Chapter 4

Everything was entirely unchanged and no one had set foot in the building since. He stared at the dust covered floor for a while before his attention was caught by something else. Bloodstains. He gasped and slowly inched towards them, kneeling down on the floor beside them. He tentatively placed the palm of his hand over the bloodstain and swallowed hard as images flooded his mind.

Eva, his Eva. Screaming and crying as she was ripped mercilessly to shreds. Vergil racing to try and save her, to try and stop her but being pushed back, torn and bloody. Dante, hiding under the table, his eyes filled with tears, wondering what these monsters were, wondering why they had burst in upon them, even as his mother's blood splashed across his face and clothes.

The demons, pleased with their cruel work fled, and the twins had immediately run to each other and had hugged each other, too shocked and dazed to do much else but cry. Dante ran towards his mother's body, only to be held back by Vergil who shook his head, quickly regaining his composure, ever the adult. Then, even as Sparda watched, rage and hatred filled his eyes.

'We could have stopped them!'

'B-but they were too strong!'

'We could have stopped them but you hid! Dad always said that we had to be strong and be brave but you hid like a coward! We could have stopped them but you didn't help me! If we had both fought, they wouldn't have been too strong!' Vergil screamed, pushing his brother away from him. His chest heaved with every ragged sob he took and Dante could do nothing but stare at him, a wounded look on his face, as well as a new terror, terror of his elder twin.

'B-but I…I…'

'You were scared. You weren't brave at all like how Dad said we should have been!' Hurt bruised Dante's features.

'Even if we had fought, they would still have beaten us…'

'How do you know?'

'Because Dad said so!' There was a pause before Dante started crying harder than ever. 'Dad could have stopped them. Dad would have killed them easy…'

'…' Vergil shook his head in disgust, his nose wrinkling. 'We could have stopped them too.'

'NO WE COULDN'T!' Dante screamed. 'WE COULDN'T. BECAUSE WE DON'T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH THOSE THINGS!' He was shaking now, his entire body trembling with words that had remained unsaid.

'You should have been braver,' Vergil said again. Dante stared at him, his face red with fury.

'Dad said that, didn't he?' Vergil made no answer. 'Didn't he?'

'Yeah…'

'So where the hell was he then? Why didn't he come? He always said he'd keep us safe, that he wouldn't ever let anything hurt us! But where was he? He didn't come! He didn't come and save us! He didn't do anything! HE LET MOM DIE!' The door creaked open at that point, to reveal a frightened woman. Her eyes fell upon Eva's body and widened before turning to take in the two sobbing boys. She immediately rang the police and told them there had been a murder, before calling social services.

Before long, a whole host of strange people had entered their home, one of them a woman, who led the kids away into a black car. She ushered them into the back of the car before sitting in the passenger's side, motioning for the driver to pull away from the house of tragedies. The two boys looked towards each other, rage reflecting in each other's eyes.

'I'll never forgive you, Dante,' Vergil hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. 'I will never forgive you for as long as I live.' Dante's face hardened, the innocence gone from his eyes, to be replaced by a coldness that had never been there before. 'You're not worthy enough to be a son of Sparda.'

'I'll make you eat those words,' Dante growled in reply, too low for the woman at the front of the car to hear. 'I'll make you regret you ever said that to me. I will make you pay.'

Sparda slowly drew his hand away and licked at dry lips, feeling as though another part of him had died inside. If he concentrated hard, he could still smell the scent of the two boys. It broke his heart to think that Dante had hated him with a fierce passion the likes of which he had never seen before.

Well, he supposed he deserved it. He had been careless, he had left Eva and the children, even if it was unintentional. He should have taken more care, yet he had failed them all miserably, and because of his folly, Eva was dead, and so was Dante. He had started to cry again, though he wasn't sure when it was that the tears had begun to fall.

The tears had to stop. He had to focus. He had to find a way. As he stared down at the blood-stain, he was suddenly filled with a new, blinding resolve.

'I promise to you,' he whispered, his voice hoarse from grief. 'I promise to you that I'll find out who did this to you, my son. I promise. And for once, I won't let you down.'