Every step is an agony. Every breath taken is one closer to my last. Every thought I have circles back to one point, back to the reason that keeps me going even in this fading state.

Dante.

Just one last time, even if I am to die, I must see him. Just one last time, even if it kills me, I must hold him. Just one last time, before I fade away entirely, I must fight him. I must defeat him, once and for all, and then I will be satisfied. Then I can finally let go.

I stop to lean up against the faded brick façade of the closest building to me, letting my eyes close momentarily, and feel for Yamato. Her energy is like a brilliant star, pulsating with a wordless song that is so close and so very loud, as if she were right behind the wall I am resting against. I double-check, just to be certain it isn't a trick of the mind, then open my eyes and look up. A flickering neon sign that reads Devil May Cry is poised above the entryway of the building I have fortuitously chosen to stop at, and I almost give a snort at the ludicrous name. Instead a coughing fit wracks my body, nearly making me double over as pain lances through me.

It takes several minutes for the coughing to subside, and even longer for the pain to recede to a dulled throb that seeps through every bone, muscle, ligament and tendon in my body. My breath comes out in a rattling wheeze as I force myself to straighten up, gripping at the space between the bricks for support, then slowly make my way towards the entryway. I pause at the foot of the steps, three short ones that may as well be Mount Everest, and stare up at the equally faded double doors. If I can just make it up these steps, make it to Yamato, then I can…

I grit my teeth and climb the stairs with a tight grip on the wrought iron handrail, not even daring to stop when I reach the doors. They are foolishly left unlocked at such a dark hour and swing open at the slightest touch, revealing a near-pitch black space that is decidedly foreboding. I stumble through the doorway and into the yawning abyss right as my body gives out from the exertion. Sharp pain flares through my knees first and then my head when I fail to catch myself.

Everything goes hazy, my vision threatening to fade and a ringing in my ears, and then a familiar and warm scent washes over me. A scent that stirs my demonic blood and has me struggling to cling to consciousness as footsteps thud down a set of stairs and over to where I'm sprawled out. "Dante," I wheeze out and blindly reach out for the source of that scent, for my brother. A sharp inhale sounds over me as my fingers brush against a worn fabric and then it vanishes, my fingers closing around air. Just as quickly, before I can begin to question my own sanity, a warm hand clasps around mine.

"Vergil?" Disbelief. Fear. Anguish. Happiness. Hope. All of those emotions layer over one another in my brother's scent as his other hand comes to grip my shoulder and he pulls me up onto my knees. I can't help the pained gasp that I give at the unexpected movement, causing worry to filter into Dante's scent. "Oh, shit, you're hurt!" He lets go of my hand, but not my shoulder, and pulls off the threadbare cloak I am wearing to inspect me for wounds. He pauses at the sight of me, breath catching in his throat, as the unmistakable scent of tears perfumes the air. "Vergil."

I had only glimpsed reflections of myself maybe once or twice, but I know how unpalatable my own appearance is. Veins blackened, skin cracked and flaking away, my eyes an unearthly glowing crimson, all of me being held together by my demonic energy. I can just barely make out Dante's face in the darkness, roughened by the passage of time and leaving me to wonder just how long it has truly been. I know that I cannot be certain of most things, but I had been…maybe my sanity has left me after all. This could just be a fevered dream or hallucination of some sort, playing out in my final moments.

Dreams and hallucinations are not warm and pulsing with life, however, and Dante is so very warm as he wraps his arms around me and draws me to him. I slump into his hold, face pressing into the crook of his neck where I can sense that pulsing flow of life running through him. Take it, my demon whispers, and I give it no other thought as I latch my mouth onto the tender skin of his throat. My brother goes stiff with a soft gasp and before he can react any further I bite down. His blood fills my mouth and I gulp it down, barely registering the taste that would have made it obvious that there is something very off and very wrong with my twin's life essence. It is tainted with something foul, something that my body rejects immediately and violently. I push away from Dante and barely manage to turn away as the blood comes back up, along with what little bile there is in my stomach.

I can just make out the soft curse that Dante gives as he finally reacts, an arm circling around me to keep me upright. What energy I did have left is spent, my vision swiftly blackening as I succumb to unconsciousness.

Nothingness greets me, all of my senses muted, and I have to wonder if this is what death is like. A vast emptiness, no real sense of self.

This state of almost not-being is shattered as energy pulses through me and I am dragged back into the grips of wakefulness with the taste of blood on my tongue. A cut and bleeding wrist is pressed to my mouth while a hand is at my throat massaging it to force a reactionary swallow. The blood itself is human, potent and laced with a power that feels as if it is revitalizing me.

"He's awake, Dante," a vaguely familiar voice sounds from my side and the wrist is pulled away. My vision doesn't even start to focus enough when the presence, human and female, moves away from me. "You better hope shit doesn't go south again because I'm not donating any more of my blood to him. Not after the shit he put you through. And don't you even think of thanking me for this!"

"Yeah, yeah. I owe ya for this, Lady." Dante sounds particularly exhausted and it shows on his face when it pops into my clarifying field of view. He's been crying. Blood still stains his neck, dried and smelling of whatever foulness taints it.

"And you'll owe me for cutting your utilities back on and getting you caught up on your rent," Lady, if that is her name, mutters as she leaves the room.

"Where…" My voice trails off and I lick at my lips, cleaning away the traces of blood still clinging to them, as I tear my gaze away from Dante's face and try to sit up to take in my new surroundings. He just as quickly pushes me back down onto the bed I've been put in, with just a light press of his hand to the center of my chest.

"You need to rest." There is worry in his voice, his tone soft. "You…it was pretty bad. You're still in pretty bad shape." He looks away from me, lower lip pulled between his teeth and the scent of tears on the air again. "You're dying."

Though for now that imminent death has been held off, if only for a while longer. "I am aware." His gaze flashes back to mine, despair and desperation flickering through those pale depths. "Temporarily undone by the woman's blood." As it should have been undone by his blood, and the realization clicks for him, my brother pressing a hand to the bloodied side of his neck.

"Do you need more? I can get more!" He doesn't wait for a response, just takes off and leaves behind the scent of his tears and the essence of fire.

I have been left to my own devices, it would seem, because his presence and the woman's are both completely gone when I let my senses spread out. Somewhere below Yamato sings her wordless song and I actually find myself pausing at the thought of going to retrieve her. I had been ready to take her back earlier, to use her on myself, but then my brother's face springs up in my mind, with that agonized expression etched into it and there is an indescribably painful twisting in my chest.

So I wait for Dante to return.