Chapter 7
There were a great many things in the world that Michelle didn't understand: demons, handicapped parking in front of gyms, self-help books. She was no stranger to confusion, especially with the events of the past few days. Her world had quickly turned upside down, and while a part of her yearned for the simplicity of her prior ignorance, she couldn't deny that life without either of the demonic twins would have been extremely boring.
In light of that, she was determined to take things as they came instead of upholding any expectation for what the demonic realm had in store for her. However, of the myriad of things that perplexed her every day, none did so greater than the elder Son of Sparda. He never spoke or said much, but his presence was altogether more noticeable and commanding than Dante's.
She could easily look at Vergil and imagine what Sparda would have looked like.
When she had encouraged the brothers on their hunt of Xericos, she had never anticipated that she would actually be brought along. Dante's encouragement for her presence had not surprised her, but Vergil's agreement was another thing.
"Better that Dante be able to keep an eye on you," Vergil explained. The nonchalance of the statement told Michelle how much Vergil didn't care to keep an eye on her. He made it plainly clear that she was Dante's responsibility.
Incidentally, or as one would expect, it was the opposite.
Vergil felt out of his element, though he would slit the throat of any creature that dared bring attention to the fact. Though the hunting of demons was something he occasionally enjoyed recreationally, doing so occupationally had him at a strange loss. It only served to broaden the rift that existed between his younger brother and himself.
The elder son walked behind his brother and the human woman, observing their interaction. The girl was almost completely unaware of her surroundings – the sort of inattention that was so common for her species. It struck him as odd that someone who had been continuously targeted by beings of the netherworld would be so foolishly oblivious to their environment. Vergil had met a great many humans who he considered imbecilic, yet even they had the common sense to feel fear.
It would have been a smarter decision for the two sons to hunt the demon down and leave the girl with some other protector for the night. She would not be a distraction, and the job would ultimately get done faster, yet Vergil understood the futility of this. Dante's inability to keep her adequately safe up until now was the catalyst for the decision to bring her along. Though what Dante failed to realize in an altogether unsurprising capacity was that the girl was more of a liability than he realized. She could barely walk straight; the limp in her step was more pronounced than ever after having to walk on it for so long.
Their pace had already slowed to accommodate her injury. Vergil was not a man prone to rushing, but the speed was starting to pick away at his nerves and patience. It was probably a combination of being sedentary for the past decade or so, having been under Mundus' control and unable to move about on his own free will, that caused his impatience.
Dante, normally so impatient and eager to get to the action – a personality trait that Vergil couldn't honestly say he didn't possess as well, such was the demon blood within him – was as calm as could be. There was an obvious reversal of roles at work, and Vergil didn't care for it.
It also hadn't escaped his notice that the girl seemed to be making a conscious effort to not look his way. It bothered him in a way that he couldn't comprehend as he felt the beginnings of a migraine.
A flutter across his senses had Vergil reaching for the hilt of his sword. It was instantaneous, almost a feather-like brush of mental energy against his own. It was ominous, quiet, hidden – so he knew it didn't come from the girl on accident. Dante hadn't noticed the presence yet; his senses weren't honed in the capacity that Vergil's were. Vergil's senses probed the surrounding area as his stride lengthened to reach the duo that managed to get further ahead during his musings. His aura slid through the nooks and cracks of the pavement and buildings, scouring the environment for that tell-tale flutter of awareness. If the creature hadn't gained corporeal form yet from traveling through the nether, it could possibly be anywhere.
"Dante," Vergil started, catching up to the two easily. The younger son did not pause in his conversation with Michelle but glanced up quickly to meet Vergil's eyes. The ice blue held knowledge that Vergil did not expect.
He knew.
It was then Vergil realized that Dante had probably known for quite a while. The area had already been searched and probed before they had even walked through it; Dante had done so already. Normally, Vergil would rationalize that it was a mere precaution, but to have done a job so thoroughly?
He felt two things at that moment: inadequate and irate. Inadequate for not being able to sense the beings that he was living amongst almost his whole life and irritation for allowing Dante to make him feel that way.
When had Dante gotten so adept at dealing with demons?
When did Dante become so perceptive and, for lack of a better term, mature?
Vergil felt nostalgia seep into his veins like a drug as he recalled his youth when Dante could never surpass him. The younger son of Sparda certainly tried, but Vergil had trained much closer to his father in their childhood. The many rivalries and battles the two had in the past always ended the same way – with Vergil being victorious. The elder brother was worldlier, more intelligent, and more strategic; it was a concoction of these things that made him such a difficult opponent for Dante in the past.
It left a strange feeling in Vergil to see his brother, usually so foolish and naïve, to be better prepared and more aware than him.
Dante had certainly aged.
He could not deny that a part of him – the small, decidedly familial part of him that his father had attempted to instill in both sons – was proud of his younger brother. Proud, and a little resentful.
In a way, Vergil felt cheated out of witnessing that growth. Differences and goals aside, he had always felt like the ultimate challenge that Dante needed to overcome; that should Dante ever be able to defeat him, the younger Son fo Sparda could very well be undefeatable. It seemed that belief Vergil held in the past was a reality, as Dante had easily overcome Mundus and saved the world countless times.
But where did that leave Vergil?
It was the first time in his life that Vergil felt inconsequential like he had outlived his purpose. He had no goals; no end-game. He lost his ultimate battle to gain more power, and his younger brother did not need him, either as an adversary or a pillar of support.
The rivalry still existed, as a bond of brothers necessitates, but the real fight had all but left.
Vergil felt hollow, disconnected.
Lonely…
And he hated every second of it.
It was bad enough that he had lost that final fight to Dante ten years ago, but to lose against the Demon Lord that his own father had been able to defeat brought forth bitterness. He spent so many hours with his father in their youth, training beside him to embrace that strength, and yet he was the one faltering and weak.
"Are you okay?" The girl's voice interrupted his thoughts, forcing his attention away from his inner conflict. He stared at her stoically, taking in her worried hazel eyes and concerned expression. A perusal of the immediate area showed him that Dante had taken to scouting ahead of them – another tactic that Vergil was surprised to witness.
He scoffed lightly, placing his hand on Yamato's hilt. Sparda would have been either extremely aggravated by Vergil's inattention or unbelievably amused that his older, more serious son kept getting lost in thought. Vergil wasn't sure which response would be worse.
And the girl was still looking at him. He hated that look. It made him feel… human. He didn't want her concern or curiosity – that meant that she was willing to learn, and he did not want her to learn anything about him. He wasn't like Dante; his empathetic ability was far less honed and had no real explanation. He would have preferred to be left alone, rotting in that basement until he felt that redemption had come for him.
He hated seeing this girl as something that could possibly redeem what he viewed as his greatest failure.
He was about to tell her so when she did something he did not expect.
She smiled.
Slow and languid, it bloomed on her face like a spring blossom. At first, Vergil thought Dante had returned, yet the younger devil was still absent. The smile was for him and him alone.
Why?
"What are you staring at?" he growled softly. The timbre of his voice dropped an octave as he stared at her pensively.
She laughed lightly, more of a chuckle than anything else. The mirth was reflected more in her eyes than her voice, and she crossed her arms as she met his gaze head on and confident for the first time. Vergil had never seen this personality from her. She wore it much better than meek and afraid.
"You really are just a bully, aren't you?" she inquired mirthfully. Her chin was raised ever so slightly, almost defiant like she was daring him to contradict her. "It took me a while to really figure it out. After everything that's happened, and everything you've put me through emotionally, you've never actually hurt me, have you? For all your threats and warnings, you haven't done anything."
"It would be unwise to assume as such," Vergil warned. Every action he had made up until this point had a purpose, whether the girl attributed such actions to "bullying" or not. For the most part, his intention was to show her the frightening aspect of the demonic world. The fact that she bothered him less due to fear afterward was an added bonus.
It seemed he would get no reprieve this time.
"Dante told me that you're more like Sparda than he is." Her statement was bold, unrepentant, and completely true. She and Dante must have been talking about it earlier while he was deep in thought. Although true, her words piqued his interest.
"What are you getting at?" This time, he was genuinely curious about what she would respond with.
"Well," she started lazily, staring up at him. "Sparda gave up his power to save humanity and chose to marry a human woman. He was a full-fledged demon who chose to save the weak race of humans." She pinned him with a challenging stare. "You told me that I should be afraid of you because you're a devil, yet all this threatening – the warnings; trying to frighten me into a corner and reduce me to tears? – actions I've only ever seen in humans."
The satisfied and knowing expression on her face should have angered him. On anyone else, it certainly would have. Her words, however, made him pause.
Curious.
It intrigued him – her expression and tone. Her words held a riddle that only she knew the answer to, and it caught his attention. That was not necessarily a good thing; Vergil wasn't patient enough to deal with riddles, and certainly not one from a hormonal human woman, yet he couldn't help the slightest quirk of an eyebrow that bespoke more interest than anything he could have retorted with.
"Tread lightly," Vergil responded softly. His voice was mercurial and dark, yet not threatening. "Catching the interest of a demon is a disastrous mistake, especially done of your own volition."
"What are you talking about?" He did not answer her immediately. He drew Yamato slowly, carefully, to ensure she knew that he had no intention of striking her.
His eyes never left the blade.
"Being a port key? That is a trick of fate; a calling you have no control over," he answered.
Saying things that caught his attention, whether intentionally or not, to provoke him into action? That was another thing entirely, and Vergil was not the type to take things sitting down. He was far too competitive and dominant for that sort of thing. For better or worse, in much the same way as those words she spoke to him in that library, she had caught his interest.
"There's nothing I can do about that now," she responded. "All I can really do is my best to stay alive and count on you or Dante to be there for me."
"Relying on others makes you weak." The small, indecipherable smile was still on her face.
Damn her.
"I don't know about that. You'd be surprised, I think, to find how much strength you and Dante give me…" she trailed off slowly, brow furrowing in confusion.
She glanced at Yamato briefly before her hazel eyes started scanning the area. Vergil surmised that she could sense the demonic entity in the area – perhaps a little too late. If that devil had decided to gain form, and the girl was on her own, she would surely be dead. Although, he had to admit there was a part of him that was impressed that she could sense the demon at all.
Even those with heightened awareness had a hard time sensing demonic activity, especially an entity attempting to hide.
Her eyes trailed back to him. Worry coated her expression as she stared at him. It didn't escape his notice that she never once looked for Dante – another curiosity. Her eyes remained focused on him, trusting him to be her protector should anything happen.
For once, he accepted that notion without a scathing remark.
She stepped closer to him as he surveyed his surroundings. The sun had dropped below the horizon, masking the city streets in an unnatural darkness. The moon was full that night. It was something that did not escape Vergil's careful observation. Full moons were notorious signs of demon activity, hence why humans had so many horror stories and myths surrounding the concept.
The moonlit glow cast itself over the pavement and sidewalks, bathing the derelict streets in the slightest unearthly glow. To any outsider, it might have looked like a peaceful night. Anywhere else, it might have been.
"Is that…? Am I sensing a demon?" Her words were whispered reverently. It was probably the first time she sensed a demonic presence in her life.
"Yes." There was little point in lying to her. She would be able to sense them much more from here on out.
"It's not Xericos, is it? No, it wouldn't be, would it? He probably knows how to mask his energy." She learned quickly enough.
"Not Xericos, but someone under his command. The presence has been following us since we began. Dante knew, and is tracking down the source now." He twirled Yamato slowly, eyes surveying the area for any telltale signs of disturbance.
"I could never sense demons before," she started. "Why can I sense them now?"
"An instinctual habit, now that your Port Key blood has come to fruition. It senses the danger." She appeared to absorb that for a moment before shuffling the slightest bit closer to him. Her scent wafted through the air, suffocating him. Did she intend to kill him? "You'll be sensing them quite a bit now; it'll get stronger as your blood awakens further."
"I am human, right?" she asked breathlessly, looking to Vergil for comfort. What did he know about comfort?
What did he know about being human?
"Yes," he answered slowly. "You are human – as weak and meager as always."
Yes, Vergil considered humans weak and meager, especially by demonic standards. He was no better off, however, so where did that put him? A weak demon was almost more pathetic than a weak human. Humans were bred weak, reared to be weak. Demons held higher expectations, not bound by petty morality or mortality.
And he was weak by demonic standards.
A tick started in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.
Self-depreciation. Father would not be proud.
The girl stared at him a little while longer before she turned her attention to the sidewalk. She stared down at the cracks pensively, lost in thought. Dante was still nowhere to be found – why would that surprise anyone? His attention span wasn't the best, so Vergil wouldn't dignify the situation with surprise.
"Tell me about your father," the girl muttered suddenly. Her eyes shot up, staring into Vergil's ice blue resolutely. "I want to know about your father from your perspective."
"Why?"
"Dante has his own personal beliefs about his father, but he went from resentment to acceptance since living among humans. He doesn't really care for him, and chooses to focus on the memories of his mother," she explained. "You, on the other hand, lived among the demons for most of your life. You must respect and revere your father to some degree. At the very least, you wanted his power for yourself, which tells me a lot. But I want to know what you personally think about your father and the decisions he made."
"Time and place," Vergil stated simply. This was not a discussion he wanted and while he had no intention of really getting into it, he was correct in his words that it was not appropriate to talk about then.
"No better time and place than here and now." She grabbed his arm lightly, grasping him at the elbow. "I don't know what's going to happen from here on out. You and Dante are diligent protectors, but I still have to contend with my lack of knowledge and experience. I could die today – I could die years from now. Wouldn't make a difference. I want to know what you think of your father."
Vergil's eyes traveled over the small hand grasping tightly at his elbow. There was some strength in the hand, but not much. It was the type of strength you expected from a human woman her size. Fragile, dainty, yet with a strength to them that bespoke maternal care and affection - they reminded him of his mother's hands.
Sentimental nonsense...
He could easily have torn away and thrown harsh words in her face to get his point across that now was not the time but knew she wouldn't listen.
"My father was elite among my kind," he deadpanned.
"Naturally, you mean demons."
"Humans as well," he added as an afterthought, "that goes without saying."
"Ok-aay," she drew out, "but that doesn't tell me what you think of him."
"His power was such that I wanted it. My father could have gained a foothold in the demonic realm and usurped Mundus, yet he didn't. Wasteful."
"He wanted to protect humans; he had honor enough not to destroy a race simply because they were weaker." Vergil couldn't deny the validity of that statement, but there was more to it than that.
"Physically," Vergil corrected.
Michelle paused, furrowing her eyebrows. "What?"
"Humans are physically weaker," Vergil observed her for a moment before sighing in aggravation. "Why do humans go to war?"
"Resources?" Michelle guessed timidly before her eyes widened slightly. "They want what others have."
"Resources are not a good enough reason to warrant mass bloodshed or at least humanity likes to philosophize that. The real reason is much more basic and instinctual: you may covet what someone else has, but your real concern is how they plan on using what you want."
"Fear," Michelle guessed. "The demons fear humans?"
"Instinctually," Vergil proposed. "Demons are stronger than humans physically, but a majority of the demons attempt to gain their abilities through spiritual or holistic means, to put it in human tongue."
"So, they're physically stronger but spiritually weaker? That seems arbitrary. When you showed me your aura, it felt a thousand times stronger than anything I could have projected."
If Vergil were less controlled, he might have felt embarrassment from the subject reminder. "Humans give off their aura constantly. They have no control over it. As such, they are less attuned to human auras. The only reason demonic auras seem so overpowering is because you are not used to sensing them."
Michelle stared at him thoughtfully, absorbing everything he said. "Humans can't hide their auras like demons can, so what is the purpose of a demon even allowing their aura to escape?"
"Hiding auras is not something a demon knows at birth, it must be taught," Vergil responded. In the case of half-devils such as he and Dante, it was even harder. And for them... Vergil really did not want to get into the specifics with the girl. It would be impossible for him to describe to her the intimacy of sensing another's aura or the sensation of a personal release of one's own. Again, Vergil felt almost embarrassed.
Thankfully, she seemed to catch on to his unwillingness to continue explaining. "Seems fair enough. Humans can't hide their auras, and demons need to be taught to hide theirs. Humans can't hide theirs because of its strength, and demons have to hide theirs, or else they'll be hunted and killed?"
Vergil nodded slowly. "More or less. A system of checks and balances. Mundus desired to reign over the human domain to control the humans and harness their spiritual ability. My father was not keen on the idea."
"Evidently," Michelle chuckled, "but knowing that, why did you want to embrace your demonic heritage? Dante embraced his human heritage, and gained the spiritual fortitude to fight demons; his demonic ability is all physical like you said. The 'checks and balances' doesn't really apply to either of you. You're the best of both worlds, aren't you? Why choose only one side?"
How could he explain his innermost thoughts, desires, and insecurities to this small slip of a girl? The reality was that he couldn't. There was nothing the elder Son of Sparda could say that would make her comprehend the course of his actions and why he took them.
Dante might have understood on a deeper level why Vergil had desired what he did, but that was an unspoken agreement. The twins had never decided to delve into that particular subject; both of them preferred to pretend those events that happened ten years ago were simply a dream.
Dante had lost his brother that day.
Vergil had lost his dignity.
While Dante had managed to recover what he had lost that day, Vergil's loss was of a greater caliber.
"Nevermind," Michelle mumbled, understanding dawning on her slowly. "It's not important."
"I made my choice," Vergil said simply. "That is all."
She nodded once before returning her attention back to the street. Vergil observed her as he casually sheathed Yamato before scanning the area for Dante. His aura was faint, burning. Normally, Vergil would assume that he had retreated far from their location, but Dante would know better.
Then the smell hit him.
Blood… much like his own. He attributed the slight moment of panic as a familial response coupled with undue surprise.
What sort of devil could make Dante bleed?
A/N: Oh my word. Am I still alive? Craziness.
One quick little update (and a haphazard excuse thrown together): I've been through one hell of an emotional hurricane the past year, and my 2015 ended horrendously. It took me months to get out of my funk. By that time, it was May and I made the decision to move to New York City with my aunt to attend NYU as a means of emotional avoidance. That was over this past summer. In July, I reunited with an old friend of 7 years that I haven't seen in 5. We bonded really quickly, and I decided to move to Massachusettes with him at the end of August, and here I am.
This chapter has been typed up since summer of 2015, but with everything that happened, I never got around to posting it. I am now adjusting to life in Massachusettes, the first time in my life I've ever lived outside of the State of New York. It's been a learning experience, and while I can't guarantee concise and quick updates, I am certainly still here.
It sucks when life gets in the way.
