The aged devil hunter never really was one for visitors, especially ones at 3 a.m. Yet here he was with a bloody pulp of a man at his doorstep,

First, Dante realised the man had the outline of his brother, but his face was so contorted he had to stare for a minute or two; the uncontrolled panic in his eyes was new. Second, he had what appeared to be a six inch blade sticking out of his right shoulder.

Vergil barged in and nearly knocked over the coffee table and landed with a crash. He lay sprawled out on the leather couch, blood dripping from his mouth and limbs with a frequency that couldn't be healthy. The demon's tailored garments was ripped to shreds, exposing gashes and bruises across pale skin. How could he be in such a mess? The great son of Sparda?

Vergil did not speak, his intense blue eyes seemed clouded and miserable; Yamato was gone. The blade probably somewhere unreachable at this point. The two of them said nothing until Dante broke the silence, he wasn't going to let his brother bleed out on his couch. "Vergil. What the hell happened?" He walked from the door to the couch and tried to sit his brother up, getting a weak slap in return with a guttural moan that sounded something like his voice.

"Can you talk?"

The older brother nodded, but winced as he opened his mouth; most likely a broken jaw.

"Listen I'm not letting you bleed out here, so lets get you to the bathroom and clean you up." Vergil took what was left of his energy to stand up and make his way to the bathroom, swatting away any attempt of assistance.

Dante had never been fond of Vergil but his desperate attempt to reach his home was a scream for help that he needed to answer. No one had ever beaten him up this bad, even as kids.

The wounded brother sat up slowly and coughed deeply, blood splattering on the white carpet. "Aw c'mon now I just just had that cleaned Vergil!" Vergil glared at Dante, letting out a frail snarl. He stood awkwardly, holding a hand to his ribs and another to the wall to steady himself. Shuffling to the bathroom Vergil seemed about to collapse and Dante rushed to hold him up; he did not protest.

Vergil looked into the mirror and attempted a face which looked like shock. Still holding onto Dante, he reached a hand to his cheek and flinched in pain. Dante's concern was growing; Vergil had been bleeding, a lot, and now he looked even paler. "I'm going to help you remove your clothes ok?" Vergil protested and didn't step back. "I need to know how bad your injuries are so I know if you'll die here or in a hospital. Not that they can do much for our kind…" He trailed off, using a gentleness he rarely used to pull down his trousers only to find a collection of contusions and lacerations covering his legs, not to mention the numerous scars left from long ago. Suddenly a dim green glow filled the room, symbols gradually appeared upon his legs and pulsed, swirling and crossed between the injuries. The surges of light sent waves a pain up onto his brother, causing the weakened body to convulse. This was worse than he expected. Vergil groaned trying to remove his shirt, oblivious to the blade. Dante to a hold of his wrist firmly, careful not to touch the newfound symbols. "Vergil, listen. Don't panic, but there's a blade sticking out of your shoulder." Vergil nearly jumped and turned towards the mirror letting out a low whine before sitting down on the toilet, covering his face with his hands. "I'm going to get the medic supplies alright?" Vergil nodded and glared at Dante, with what appeared to be thankfulness flashing momentarily in his frosty eyes.

Dante trifled through the massive amounts of medical equipment for when he got into unfortunate circumstances. He pulled out the bandages, hydrogen peroxide, and his enhanced Arnica and Calendula flowers, which helped for pain. Dante rushed back in and was relieved Vergil was still able to stand; even with Sparda's blood, not every wound could be healed. "Get in the tub, this is going to make a hell of a mess" Vergil grimaced and slipped into the tub, shivering from the ice cold porcelain. His milky skin mixing into the color of the sharp contrast of crimson and white focused his eyes on his brothers battered body. His lean, toned build contracted and relaxed with the pulsing of the symbols. For a second, Dante thought his brother wasn't going to survive this.

With a flick of his wrist Dante poured the peroxide onto Vergil's legs. He seethed, driving his fist onto the rim of the bathtub making a jagged crack. Dante was surprised he still had that much fight. Dante quickly patted his legs dry with beige body towel and quickly threw it to the side, it was only making the bleeding worse. He placed the Arnica flowers onto the wounds, followed immediately by the bandages. Vergil stared at Dante, his hands clenched.

After his legs were dressed it was time for the blade. Dante let Vergil take a swig of whiskey before promptly yanking the weapon out. In return Vergil let out a hoarse scream, followed by a sickening crack from his jaw; blood was everywhere. Dante took off his red t-shirt and placed it onto the wound, nauseated by the sight.