Never would I have ever thought I would see my twin, who had cleaved so tightly to his humanity, partake in something that is distinctly demonic. It is shocking, almost unbelievable, and I can't help but stare after him as he leaves the bedroom to put the blood away. I also can't help but picture the way his expression had twisted with anger as he made his irrefutable accusation. The underlying hurt marked with something more, something buried deep within. Something that I had indelibly caused by my leaving.

I can't even begin to fathom what else there might be to have caused those feelings in my brother and I don't even have long to dwell on it. Dante reappears, a wan smile on his lips that fails to cover up what has already been exposed to me. He approaches me, barely making a sound as he walks, and pulls me onto my feet. I am steadier than before, the blood cocktail having helped at least a little, but Dante slings an arm around me to take the brunt of my weight.

"Seems like the blood did something for ya," my twin notes as he guides me across the bedroom to another door that, when opened, reveals a surprisingly tidy and clean bathroom. His scent hangs thicker here than it does in his bedroom, a sweet, cinnamon-y musk that stirs my instincts and my blood even in my weakened state. "Just lemme know when ya want more. Got enough to hold ya over for a bit."

"How, exactly, did you manage to acquire the human blood?" A cooler filled to the brim with it, no less. Dante doesn't even meet my eyes at the question, head tilted down so that his hair hangs in his eyes while he steers me across the chilly tile floor to the tub. He seems intent on avoiding giving an answer, the lines of his body going rigid. "Dante."

"Don't worry 'bout how I got it. Just worry 'bout gettin' better." He lets go of me long enough to plug up the tub and turn on the hot water before he busies himself with removing my clothes. My twin is intent on doing all of it by himself, batting my hands away the instant I try to aid him, all while keeping his gaze downcast.

It is probably for the best that I let him assume control over everything involving my care. I do not want to, letting him have complete control over me rankles me in a way that makes me want to lash out, but he is not Mundus. He had freed me from that demon's control, from the daily torment that had been visited upon me, and he only wants to help. So I swallow down the urge to claw at him, to bite him and make him submit to me, and I let him help.

"We'll probably have to burn these," Dante murmurs as he deftly undoes the fastenings of my vest and slides it off of my shoulders. It lands half pooled around my feet and is quickly joined by my pants. My gloves are very nearly an afterthought, though they don't join the pile on the floor. How curious, for him to set aside my gloves as if there might be some purpose in keeping them. "You can wear somethin' of mine til we can get you new clothes."

Wearing something that he has worn, something steeped in his scent, is incredibly appealing, enough so that I almost want to tell him to not bother with getting me something new. I am in no position to make demands, however, so I will let him do as he sees fit. This is also part of letting him care for me, another aspect of control that I have already decided to yield to him. There is one thing, however… "What became of my coat?" It is the one thing I had already been stripped of when I had awoken and I hadn't seen it in his bedroom.

"Gonna try an' see if I can salvage it." I find it touching that the one thing he would try to save is my coat when it honestly should join what is to be burned. I don't expect him to give a reason why and trying to pry anything out of him is proving difficult. So I let the point lapse as he checks the water level in the tub before shutting the water off. "Let's get you in that tub now."

The water is hot, scalding if the curls of steam rising from its surface is anything to go by, but I sink down into it with Dante's aid. He hardly waits for me to adjust to the temperature, immediately reaching for the washcloth and soap. I can't suppress the flinch nor the soft hiss I give as he brings the hot, soaked rag across my chest.

"Sorry." Dante says it quietly as he withdraws the washcloth momentarily, letting it cool before he starts washing me. He is gentle, keeping the touch of the cloth light while his mouth twists into a faint frown. "I shouldn't have made the water so hot."

"It's fine as it is." Weakened as I am the temperature is just at the edge of tolerable and unbearable. I've already adjusted to it, however, the heat sinking into my body and making me realize how cold I had been prior. "It feels nice."

"I'm glad." Dante's voice is still subdued, still quiet, but he manages a faint smile. One that doesn't quite reach his eyes. I can't stand the sight of these empty smiles on my brother's face.

"What did I do that hurt you so much?" There has to be more to it than just the fact that I had left and judging from how quickly Dante's expression goes carefully blank I'm almost certain of it.

"You…" Even with his expression woefully blank I can acutely feel the pain rolling off of him. It runs deep, deeper than I can fathom, and I hate that I am the cause of that pain. "Don't worry about it anymore. It's all in the past."

Even though I expected such an answer from him I am still displeased by it. Pressing further won't yield anything except more of this closed-off-ness from Dante. Besides, he had already answered my question earlier. I hadn't stuck around. I can only guess that something terrible had happened after I had left him in the way that I did at Temen-ni-gru, not when he had struck me down at Mallet. It is the only thing that makes the most sense.

"Lemme get your hair and then you're all done." I let him ease me back to wet my hair, my eyes closing with a soft, involuntary purr as his fingers card through it. He spends several minutes massaging the shampoo into my hair and scalp, the quiet in the bathroom broken by my purrs and the occasional sloshing of the water.

I haven't felt so at peace since we were both eight years old, his presence and touch granting me a sense of safety that has eluded me for the past thirty-five years. I only wish that I could perhaps do the same for him, to heal whatever pain I had caused and give him that same sense of peace and safety. To be able to do so I need actual answers, ones that he may never provide me with. If he won't then the woman might.

"C'mon, Verge, time to rinse," Dante finally says as he withdraws his fingers from my hair. He eases me back down and carefully rinses the shampoo lather out, his expression slowly becoming pensive. After he's done and he's helped me sit back up he pauses, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. He looks caught on the edge of wanting to say something, his gaze skittering away from me as he seems to try to work up enough courage to give voice to whatever it might be. "I know you want answers…and that you won't stop until you get those answers. This probably sounds silly cuz it's been twenty-four years, but I need time. Not a whole lot, just a few weeks to get myself sorted out."

Going behind his back is probably the worst thing I could do when he seems to be willing to talk, to give me the answers I want. I put the notion out of my head and clasp a hand around one of his. He doesn't expect it, giving a slight start at the touch, but he doesn't pull away either. "I will wait for however long it takes, Dante."

My brother gives a bitter and broken laugh, his hand tightening around mine. "'fraid I won't get as long as I'd like but you have a right to know, so I'll try not to take too long." He pulls his hand free then reaches into the tub and unseals the drain. "Now let's get you dried off and into something warm."