A/N: Right, first of forgive my mistakes if any! This is my first devil may cry story. I originally wanted this to be a one shot but I see now it needs more to it, wouldn't you agree?... Though I'm not sure where this story will lead yet! So the summary might change later on and rating and that... Who knows might get freaky with incest! Lol, what's weird. I will involve more characters later on, like Lady or Nero, you know. I have a feeling this story will contain slash some how. Not sure on the incest thing, or it might not even contain slash! You tell me readers! What do you want? Anyway moving on with the story!

Warnings: Graphic scenes, lots of blood, mentions of rape. RATED M

Fixing Vergil

The Violinist

It was a song full of remorse, sadness and sorrow in a sort of beautiful and delicate way. It reminded him of angels falling, maybe even dying. He would have thought only a demon would have had the audacity to play a deep song out in the open such as that; demons really knew how to write a song. They would take absolute pleasure from writing such music, music to lure their prey. He also took pleasure from listening, but only partly, let's say about half-heartedly, keeping his circumstances in mind. When he did reach the top of the stairway he pondered for a moment whether to make an exciting entrance or enter 'normally' not that he knew how too in style.

He decided to kick the doors down, and step in as calm as ever, treating his previous action like it was the norm. Both guns out, aimed directly at the violinist. His smirk falters; he knew something like this would happen. He just knew, though he was surprised it happened now, of all times. "Where'd you learn to play like that?" he asked, he needed not to start with 'hello', nor ask his name and give his in return. They weren't on those levels anymore; it would be ridiculous if they were.

"A song mother used to play to us as little boys, when we still shared the same bed, you wouldn't remember," oh he remembered well, how could he forget? No one forgets a bed partner especially if they were special.

"What makes you think that?" He never lowered his aim, and the song kept playing in the room. Such a beautiful song, it demanded all of ones attention and received it effortlessly. It definitely succeeded in luring Dante all the way here; he gave it credit for that.

"I just know." He made the first move, Dante I mean. He shot at him, one bullet after another; merciless like the demon-hunter he was. Vergil kicked the table in front promptly, shielding himself from the bullets coming his way; he wasn't a fool when it came to Dante's fighting style. He knew what to expect, and he was ready for it, he made sure of that. Vergil kicked the table once more; charging it Dante's way, and he pulled out a sword, not his favoured but a useful one at least.

Dante clashed the blade of his rebellion into his nameless weapon, having already leapt over the table to charge at his brother. Both fists held tightly on the hilt, pushing down on Vergil's own sword. "Eager are we?" Vergil taunted, his struggle was evident in his voice, but he made up for it by breaking Dante's stance. He threw him down to the floor; Dante sprung back up immediately. He wasn't ready to loose to his brother just yet. Gun pointed in his direction, he pulled the trigger without another thought, he wasn't letting him celebrate his small victory just yet.

"How many years has it been Verge! And here you are, forcing yourself back into my life!" He was on the edge of triggering into his demonic form; he couldn't keep his cool with the situation anymore. This was Vergil; the brother he thought was positively dead. How could anyone keep their calm with a situation such as this one?

'CLASH'

'CLASH'

'CRASH!' Vergil sprawled over broken fragments of shattered wood; he ached everywhere though he still refused to drop his pride. Dante had thrown him across the room, and he crashed through the hard wooden wall into the next room. It was a powerful throw, fit for a demon. He spat blood, stabbed his sword deep into the creaking floor and pulled himself up from there. This was getting serious.

Of course, it was. How could he forget? Dante had abandonment issues... Why wouldn't he be serious? He did abandon him after all. In a way.

He focused on Dante now, ending his thoughts there. His eyes were mad with anger, his demonic side showing through and it was all directed right at him. Vergil lifted one corner of his lips, delighted to see the inhuman side of his darling brother. "What is this Vergil?" Using his full name now? He was beyond impressed. "Why are you here?" He sneered.

"I think you know why I'm here Dante," he sneered back, a perfect scowl on his face. He held his sword, tight, becoming tense and a little shaky even? He was preparing himself for the next blow. For the worst to happen.

"No, I really don't." Charging, they collided into each other, meeting half way this time round. Dante thought of many reasons why Vergil would be here. Was it the amulet? Or was it his sword... His brother was in love with power; it's all he was ever after, nothing more nothing less. He didn't care if they were brothers, he didn't care at all.

And he knew that now.

"AHHH!" This time Dante got the upper hand. Vergil's useless sword cluttered to the ground far from reach, his arm sliced open from his strong thrust. Blood shot up, imitating a fountain; spraying on his own face. He clutched the gaping wound and grimaced, he didn't expect to be hit like this so sudden; he thought he was better than that. Vergil was panting now, out of breath. Dante got better over the years it seems, or was it something else? "Do you give up?" Do you give up? He met his brother's eyes, questioning his words. What did Dante mean by that? "Not like I could kill you anyway," he mumbled now, turning his back on him with his sword resting on his shoulder.

How dare he? Turn his back on the enemy like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

Vergil rushed for his sword out of pure frustration, ignoring his throbbing pains in his arm. The moment he held it; it was out of his grasp once again, and this time it was diving straight into Dante's back. He would not tolerate Dante's behaviour towards fighting him. Was he serious or not? Do you give up? What was that suppose to mean! Of course he didn't!

Dante hitched in his breath, the blade sticking out of his torso, like something had grew out of him, and created its own exit out. How could he possibly miss it? He began to pull at the lengthy blade, pulling it out from his insides. Crimson red splattering everywhere, such a beautiful colour to paint the walls with. It took a lot of effort doing this, Vergil knew the feeling; and it was painful; no doubt about it. He groaned loudly when he got it out, allowing it clatter to the floor. "That." He paused, mulling his words over in his head first. "Was rather sneaky of you Verge," is what he mulled over?... Recovering from the excruciating pain as he said it. "Not your style bro," was it now? A lot could change in many years. "Though it hurt like fuck." He had to admit, good on him.

"It's not Yamato," Dante knew that already. Though it held similar qualities, he could never mistake his brother's sword for another. "Where is it," he demanded his tone hateful enough to make the youngest of children cry.

Dante laughed, chucked at his brother's words. "Yamato?" He knew exactly where it was. "Didn't you die with that sword?" Die, he had to throw the word in there. He was obviously insulted that his brother never told him he was alive all these years. Sensitive as ever Dante. Dante grabbed the abandoned violin and bow, throwing it Vergil's way without even looking. Vergil caught it of course; he wouldn't allow the instrument shatter into pieces now would he? "Stick with that, you play great brother," Vergil shook his head slowly; it was only a matter of time until he fainted. He could feel the light headedness; the feeling of sinking into oblivion was coming to him again. Did he mention how peaceful it was? To faint when he was in pain.

And he was gone. A switch turned off, just like that.

Dante watched him fall; he contemplated something in his mind before he made further action. "What happened to you Verge," he whispered into the damaged room, he made his decision. He strode on over to his brother, picking him up and threw him over his shoulder. His fighting skills were off, his healing powers weak... Vergil changed, changed for the worse. "What did those demons do to you...?" He could only imagine.

And whatever they did, it worked. That's what he gets for cutting his hand away all those many years ago.