He wasn't exactly sure what time it was as he heaved himself up the stairs toward his bedroom, nor did he quite care. After spending most of his night lounging around, he'd fallen asleep sometime around dawn and was woken up by the sound of his phone ringing off the hook. Again. The idiot old woman on the other end of the line didn't quite understand him when he told her he wasn't the kind of exterminator that killed termites, causing him to spend the better part of what felt like hours trying to get his point across before he finally lost his patience and hung up on her. Sure it was rude, the lady was someone's grandmother, but she just wasn't getting the damn message. He was certain she would just call back, but as he lingered outside of his bedroom door there was nothing but silence in the office. He couldn't explain to himself the strange hesitation in his body as he grabbed the handle to his door, trying to will himself to just push the damn thing open already. But…what if she's naked? What if she-

What if she, what? Open the damn door and go in anyway. Since when has the thought of a naked female ever bothered you before?

Rolling his eyes Dante slowly pushed the door open keeping his eyes on the floor. He hated when his darker half had a point. It made it all the more difficult to ignore. The thought of Evie being naked in his bed shouldn't have phased him in the slightest. If it were any other woman he would have jumped at the opportunity. After all, shy and modest were two words that he could never use to describe himself.

Ignoring the odd sense of uncertainty that welled up in his chest, he forced himself to look up at the bed. There was no denying the wave of disappointment that washed over him when he saw her curled up on his side of the bed…fully clothed. Well, that was anticlimactic… Even from the doorway he could see how she was shivering, her knees pulled up against her chest like a child. Groaning he shuffled up to the end of the bed and jerked the comforter over her.

"You really are a pain, Evie," he sighed softly, turning toward his closet to grab a shirt.

It was then that he saw what time it really was thanks to the alarm clock sitting on the end of his dresser, almost two thirty in the afternoon. He wasn't sure if it was just her strange schedule or something more that allowed her to sleep so much, but he couldn't help but notice she was sleeping even longer than he did some days. The only thing he could figure was that she was mentally exhausted. It was easy to forget sometimes that she hadn't lived the life he had. There were days he wondered if he's ever see something that would actually get to him. Since the attack on his family, nothing seemed to even turn his stomach anymore.

"Dante…"

His entire body froze, his hand gripping a random shirt in the closet as he waited to see if she was waking up. When she didn't continue he found himself glancing over his shoulder, but all she had done was shift under the blanket. He turned back to the closet, pulling his shirt off of the hanger, trying to ignore the nagging curiosity that had crept up in his brain. She was dreaming about him? He suddenly found the task of pulling on a shirt far too boring to even focus on, staring at her out of the corner of his vision with fascination.

She had stretched out under the blanket, pushing her hands up almost as if she were trying to shove it off her body. But it was obvious that even though the blanket wasn't that heavy, she was losing the battle. It would have been slightly adorable if it weren't for the troubled look on her face. Was she trying to push him away? Or something else? It was then, as he was trying to imagine what she was dreaming about that she sat upright in the bed so suddenly that he almost flinched.

"No!" she shouted, eyes wide with fear.

He couldn't help but frown at her, wondering what the hell was going through her brain. Maybe she thought he was trying to sneak into bed with her? Or maybe she was just embarrassed that he was standing there watching her sleep. Either way he decided to deal with it in the only way he knew how : joke about it.

"First you bitch at me yesterday for not having a shirt on, now you're bitching I'm putting one on? Make up your mind woman," he sighed, watching as her eyes jumped over to him.

She just sat there staring at him as he pulled the shirt all the way down over his body. He could see her open her mouth, almost as if she was trying to speak, but the words never came. It was like her entire body was shaking, too violent to be cold chills, and when tears started to fall down her cheeks he thought she might actually be in some kind of pain. Rushing around to the side of the bed he grabbed her by he shoulders tightly, trying to see what was causing her to shake.

"Evie, what the hell? What's wrong?" he snapped, shaking her lightly thinking maybe she was still stuck in her dream somehow.

The only response she gave him was a shake of her head which he found incredibly unhelpful. Wrapping one arm around her lower back, he hooked the other up under her knees and scooped her up off of the bed. Her hand instantly reached up to grip the front of his shirt, clinging to him for dear life. He was thankful that at least she wasn't kicking and screaming. Not that it would have done her much good, but he was sure restraining her would only make things worse. Carrying her down into the main room, Dante plopped her onto the couch, pausing just long enough to pry her hand away from his shirt.

"You want something to drink?"

Again she only nodded her head in response, irritating him even further. Shaking his head he ducked into the kitchen, weaving around the edge of the counter to avoid knocking over the tower of pizza boxes stacked up and went straight for the fridge. He knew before he even opened the door that she wasn't going to be happy with what he brought her, but she was just going to have to deal with it. Reaching around yet another empty pizza box he grabbed the last two cans of beer out of the fridge and headed back into the main room. She still seemed to be out of it, not even looking up as he approached her. She had pulled her shirt back to reveal her shoulder, studying the smooth pale skin so intently that she only glanced up when he cracked one of the cans open for her.

"Thank you," she croaked, taking the can from him.

"You mind telling me what the hell that was up there? I left you alone to sleep, just went in to get a shirt and you flip out on me. Wasn't like I was trying to sneak into bed with you," he scoffed, leaning back against the pool table to give her some space. Now that actual words were being exchanged he wanted answers. If she was having some kind of breakdown he at least wanted a little warning.

"No, I don't want to talk about it," she breathed, taking a small sip from the can. "Ugh! What the hell, this is piss in a can!"

He watched her glare down at the can, then up at him. Piss in a can was a little hard, but the again he had expected some kind of protest.

"Is it even past noon?" she asked, sitting the can on the floor.

"It's almost three. You were out for a little over twelve hours…"

"What? Twelve hours?"

Shrugging his shoulders he took a drink of his beer, watching her closely in case she had some kind of weird outburst again. He knew all too well that the human mind could be a fragile thing. He'd seen many people break in the face of demons, unable to handle the shock, but he had been sure Evie was stronger than that. She hadn't been at all phased when weird things had happened when they were kids. But maybe it was just too much all at once for her to deal with properly.

"Seriously Evie, you got a medical condition or something? Epilepsy maybe? Probably should have told me if there was a medication back at your house that you needed to, I dunno, live?" he mused, trying to get her to actually talk.

"You really want me to talk about what happened up there?" she demanded with a dark frown.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to talk about it."

"Alright fine. You want me to talk about it. Tell me Dante, where is Vergil now?"

Although he had been expecting the question to come up eventually, it didn't stop the strange tug on his heart when she said his twin's name. Thankfully it was easy to keep the emotion from registering on his face as he stared at her overtop his beer can. He had no clue how Vergil had anything to do with whatever was happening to her, but he decided to go ahead and bite just to get it over with.

"That's a good question and if you figure out the answer, be sure to let me know," he shrugged, taking another drink of his beer.

She seemed honestly shocked by his response, leaning forward to scoop the can of 'piss water' off of the floor and took a rather large swig. He had to suppress the snicker that nearly escaped him at the face she made as she swallowed the drink, almost like she was drinking bleach.

"You mean to say," she breathed, frowning up at him, "that you don't think he's dead?"

"Couldn't say for sure. I mean, I was suppose to be dead too and here I am."

She narrowed her eyes at him, swirling the beer can in her hand slowly before she brought it back to her lips and drained the rest of it in one chug.

"So, not only is she a bartender, she can drink to? I'm impressed," he chuckled, sitting his half empty can on the edge of the pool table.

"Yeah, well I'm used to the hard stuff. I don't see how you can drink that crap," she shuddered, making a small face as he pushed away from the pool table.

"Well, you should have said something sooner babe. Let's see..." he chuckled, stepping closer to the couch.

He couldn't ignore the way Evie jerked back away from him as he leaned down reaching for the cushions. Part of him wanted to ask her if she thought he was going to hurt her, but he just shrugged it off and dove between the cushions, searching for his hidden stash.

"What are you-" she mumbled, but stopped short when he pulled his hand back out connected to a half empty bottle of whiskey.

"Trish'll throw it out if she finds it," he chuckled handing her the bottle.

She reached out toward him hesitantly, pulling the bottle away from him by the cap to avoid actually touching him. She didn't seem to have an aversion to the label on the bottle, screwing off the black cap and bringing the bottle to her lips to take a hearty swig. Again, she made a face like she was drinking bleach, sighing sharply as she screwed the cap back on.

"So what does any of that have to do with Vergil?" he muttered, watching as she settled her eyes on the bottle in her hands, refusing to look at him.

"I've been having weird dreams with him in it," she confessed, sighing softly.

"Like, back when we were kids dreams?"

"No. Recent. One in your old house and last night, I don't even know where I was. It was more like a castle, I guess. I don't know it was just weird."

"Well, what happened?"

"It's a little difficult to explain. I mean there was a day bed, I think, and he just came out of no where!"

"A day bed?"

There was no mistaking the soft pink blush that dusted across her cheeks and it finally hit him. She'd been having dreams about Vergil, not him. Those kind of dreams. He was honestly a little shocked, Vergil had spent all that time shunning her, how could she possibly like him? Dante couldn't help but think that it was a little unfair. He was the one who had taken the time to set up an elaborate scheme to keep an eye on her, he was the one who had saved her life on more than one occasion, and she was having dreams about him? It just wasn't fair!

"So what you're saying is…you got it on with my brother, in your head?" he asked, trying to hide the irritation in his voice. Pure bullshit…

There had been a point in his life when he had remembered the house being a lot larger than the structure before him. The lawn had been green and lush once, but now it lay in patches of brown and yellow decay. Even the front walkway was chipping away. It was as if the entire structure had died. The clouds in the sky hiding the moonlight and casting a black shadow over the façade like a death shroud. All that stood out to him was the garish faded tap barricading the door and the lingering scent in the air. A scent that had drawn him to the steps of his childhood home despite his disgust for the place. Dante…

Scoffing, the elder twin moved silently to the front entrance of the old house, clutching the prized Japanese blade at his side as if it were an extension of his very body instead of a weapon that he wielded. Reaching up with his right hand he wrapped it around the white silk covering the handle and flicked his left thumb up to push the blade marginally out of its sheath. To the average passerby, it would have appeared that the man on the porch hadn't even flinched as the faded tape blocking his way simply severed of its own free will and fell away from the opening silently. While in reality he had made one swift cut to the offensive material and slid the blade back into it's home with a soft clink. With the path clear he stepped forward into the house, his long blue coat fluttering behind him as the stale air pushed past him. The fact that the house was in ruin didn't seem to bother him at all as he moved over the dust covered floor toward the kitchen.

There was almost a tangible aura that his twin had left behind, calling out to the very blood in his veins as he retraced his younger siblings steps. He hardly glanced at the outline on the floor, or the blood smeared everywhere before he turned back down the hall and headed for the stairs. He moved through the house like a ghost, headed straight for his old bedroom, trying to recall exactly how the dream had happened. He could remember seeing the girl so vividly that he nearly expected her to be standing there in the middle of the room as he stopped in front of the open door. It had been years since he had seen her, but there was just no mistaking that face.

At first he had just dismissed it as some passing memory trying to work it's way out of the past, creating a generic image of what he assumed the girl would look like now to mess with him. He'd spent a lot of his time trying to suppress the memories of his past, refusing to acknowledge any of the fleeting pains that came with remembering the attack. Human emotions were useless and weak. Scoffing he turned on his heel, heading back toward the master bedroom. As he passed the shattered frames on the floor he couldn't help but notice all the pictures were missing. Dante's scent lingered heavily in the hallway, indicating that his sentimental little brother had been the one to collect them.

A small shuffling noise behind him caused him to pause, glancing over his shoulder to see the demon wraith that was huddled against the back wall of the hallway in fear of him. The metal scythe gripped in it's bony hands was lowered to the point of dragging across the floor, indicating that it had no intention of attacking him. Part of him relished the fear he instilled in the beast, while the other half was just disgusted with it's weakness.

"She wasn't there, was she?" he muttered, his voice low and cold. The wraith shook it's head deftly, metal clinking against the wood floor as it cowered. "It would appear my little brother is dead set on keeping her away from me."

Stepping into the master bedroom he ignored the trail of dried blood, moving to his mother's old dresser to see the broken picture frame laying face up next to her belongings. It had once contained a photo of his father. He didn't care what it took, he was going to achieve the power that was rightfully his. And despite his aversion to humans, he had a use for Evelyn and her obvious talents. Whether or not Dante realized it, she was special in her own little way and he didn't mind manipulating that gift to benefit himself. Now it was just a matter of taking her away from him, which given her attachment to him, would not be easy. Luckily, he had no problem with using force. She didn't need all of her limbs to serve her purpose…