Lol.

Feeling the need to read?

Good.

I'm fighting the need to write.

I will never, and have never, owned DMC. Trust me, if I did, Rachel would replace Kyrie.

Ciao! TehOdd1 xoox

Recap:

From across the hall, Nero's face was scowling as Dante left her, and the door, wide open.

He had never spoken to him like that.

He had never spent time with him that way.

He had never so much as lowered his obnoxious voice, save for when he was around the kids.

So Nero made his decision.

He hated the girl across the hall with a passionate rage fuelled from Hell's own fiery depths.

And he would make her life Hell.

I opened my bruised eyes slowly. Dante had given me a big ass vital star a little awkwardly, and then almost ran outta the room.

That had been almost a week ago, and since then, I'd healed.

Physically.

Whenever I thought of my Master, it was…painful. Like, in my chest, as if I had been stabbed and twisted my lungs around the blade, as in it was self inflicted pain. (Trust me, I'd know.)

I couldn't be angry at him. Dante. He was... nice, to say the very least, and that was something that I couldn't really account for in my life. Not that my Master was mean, he was just... Stoic.

And besides, I was used to it. Having Dante around was like having a little kid around.

But having Max around was like having Master Vergil around. A minnie Master. And I knew, in the back of my head, that this kid and I would be the very best of friends. Purely because I was used to his kind of humour, and his kind of aura.

I made my way downstairs, returning Nero's glare and winking at the twins, who struggled to close one eye back.

Trish handed me a plate of toast without a single word. I ate it in silence.

So, my predicament was, I couldn't hate Dante, even if he took me away and made my Master Vergil upset and all the rest of it. He was nice.

That goes without saying that I wasn't nice back. I tried to be hateful, and that failed. I tried to be nice, but couldn't. Weather it was because I wasn't used to the way he treated me, or because I felt that I should rightfully spit acid in his drinks when he wasn't looking, I couldn't tell.

So I found a happy medium. I teased, and I taunted and I generally pissed him off: but it was Nero that I teased and taunted and pissed off instead.

He he he.

Kid loses it, every time I call him 'Kid', so it's my secret card. I take out all my anger on him. I hate that guy with a burning passion. I don't get what I did to make him so damn mad at me, but he just tries to glare a hole in the side of my head every time I make an appearance.

I got up and left when Nero made an appearance, and I didn't hide the fact, waving my hand in front of my nose and saying: "Yep, Dom is playing with something dead again."

He scowled.

I smirked.

So I did what I normally did when Nero kicked me out of a room : I talked to Dante.

We were sitting in the longue room, eating some cold pizza and talking - well, I was more listening and nodding appropriately in the places where he stopped to breathe - where as he just went on and on and on.

"...And I said to him, I got real close to his face and said : 'It's your lucky day, punk. Now beat it.' And this demon, he starts shaking, right? And I think that maybe this kid ain't gunna run, like, he's still there minus a male appendage or two, and I'm thinkin' 'Noice. Tough guy, at last. Haven't had one of those since Trish was preggers.' So I lift my finger to go poke him in the chest, I swear, that's all I was gunna do, and he pissed himself."

"Like, literally?"

"Yeah." he says toughly, lifting his arm and flexing the muscles. "I'm kinda awesome like that."

I giggled a little. Nero snorted from behind me.

I tried my best to ignore him in front of Dante, and especially Trish. The kids thought we were playing, so they were cool. Only I had to keep a lid on the swearing: otherwise, Dom'd tell Dante, and I'd get in shi-...Trouble.

After a while of being regarded with many a tale of how Dante managed to kick ass, I was zoning out.

I couldn't stop thinking about my Master. Everything about Dante was different, like suddenly living with a woman instead of a man. You know the little things?

Master Vergil had a thirteen piece settee that simultaneously matched the walls and the carpet. Everything spelt clean and airy and fresh. We always had a supply of fruits and coffee in the house, and really, that was all Dante and my Master had in common.

An obsession with caffeine.

I remembered things, when I was with Dante, that I shouldn't have. Like the way he looked at Trish, straight in the face even though her boobs were like, hanging out. The way he would be so aloof, and then when she'd walk into the room he'd prick up, like a dog that sees food.

Only, in a more romantic sense.

My mind just picked up my memories, dusted them off, and decided to remind me of how good my life was a few months ago.

*

"... Rachel, are you listening to me?" my master's droning voice peaked, vexed.

I was eight. Staring out the window, instead of taking notes, and thinking about how nice it would be to go into the other room and keep reading Romeo and Juliet.

"Yes, Master Vergil." I replied, sending him a quick nod. "You were talking about the properties of demonic blood."

His eyes hardened, the way they did when I was about to get in trouble. They didn't really harden, they just went a little greyer than normal.

"I was talking about that subject about forty minutes ago. I am currently attempting to tell you about the lore of demonic entities."

I cringed, and straightened in my seat, swallowing silently.

"I'm sorry, Master. It won't happen again." I said solemnly.

He sighed and shut his book, placing it down on his desk and standing up. He strolled around to the front of it, and leaned against it, his arms folding over his chest.

"And what, pre tell, was so fascinating out the window?"

I looked down, my face going red. How was I going to tell him that instead on fantasizing about killing things, like I usually did, or devising ways on how to best him, I was thinking about the love of two teenagers and the drama in between?

"N-...Nothing out the window, Master." At least I didn't lie. Which he would see right through. Generally I had to go with half truths to ever think about cheating him.

Not that I ever did.

"Indeed." he said, and I heard him stand before he had me up by the collar of my shirt, pressed against the wall. His eyes swept over my face, and I stared as blankly as I could back at him, my hands limp at my sides.

"What has you so riveted in your seat that you neglect my possibly life saving information in order to study it more closely?" he growled out. "Do tell."

"Nothing worth knowing about, Master." I said, staring directly into his face. "Silly female thoughts, naturally."

"Divulge," he demanded, dropping me to the floor, and looking down his nose at me. "In hope that I will grow a better understanding with you."

I could feel my blush touch my cheeks - then break all out over my face. I dropped my head and stared at the floor, begging something, anything, to distract him.

Nothing happened. He just tapped his boot.

"I'm waiting, Rachel."

I swallowed, and mumbled : "Romeo and Juliet."

I could almost hear his cocked brow.

"Romeo...And Juliet."

"Yes, Master."

I could almost hear the raised eyebrow.

"As in... Shakespeare."

"Yes, Master." I cringed. I didn't want him to think me weak.

But then he did the most curious thing: something, that if you knew him, you would never expect him to do... He knelt down in front of me and tipped my chin up.

His eyes were no longer grey. I was off the hook.

"And here was I thinking you were no more female than myself." he said, and by then I had handle enough on his repressed emotions that I could assume he was amused. "Tell me, Rachel, what do you think?"

*

"...Rachel? What d'you think?"

Dante's voice popped my proverbial balloon. I almost got mad enough to hurl the couch at him. Instead, I sighed, and rubbed my eyes tiredly. Nero insisted on having his music on, loud enough to keep me up all night, but soft enough not to wake the kids. Or Trish, heaven forbid.

"What do I think about what, Dante?"

"Two large Hawaiian's and a medium Coke, or two large Hawaiian's and a medium Pepsi?"

"Well, I've only ever had Coke once, and it kinda hurt my teeth." I told him, rubbing the back of my neck. "Maybe you should ask Max?"

Dante's jaw was dropped and the phone slipped out of his hand, landing with a plastic-on-wood clacking sound.

"No seriously." he said, kinda mortified. "Which do you like better, Coke or Pepsi?"

"Uhm...No seriously, how well do you know Master Vergil?"

He groaned, and rubbed his face with his hand, shaking his head.

"Too well," he amended, into his hand. "I should've known. But at least tell me you have had pizza?"

"Uhm...Yeah, yeah o' course!"

And he beamed at me, going to grab the phone.

Then I added: "But they were homemade, and I was only allowed to have cheese and asparagus on it."

I believe his reaction was as such : *face palm*

"Chocolate?"

"Limited amounts. Only when I had cravings, and even then, he'd let me suffer."

"Ice cream?"

"Uh, I had an ice-cream cake for my seventh birthday...But the candle wouldn't light so Master got shitty, dumped it in the bin and we went out for sushi."

"Starburst Babies?"

"What are they?"

"Fairy floss?"

"The stuff fairy's use to clean their teeth?"

"That's not even funny kid." he said, and he actually looked a little pale. "You are ridiculously deprived."

I rolled my eyes. "How bad can it be? I mean, I'm ignorant to sugar induced highs and calories and love handles. I have a completely healthy body, Dante, and I'm grateful for it."

"But you don't even have boobs."

I cocked an eyebrow.

He shook his head.

"Wait, that sounded old man perverted, didn't it?"

"You bet your wrinkly old ass it did." I chuckled, easing back into the couch a little.

I liked being able to swear. It was a part of language I was rarely allowed to condone in, with my Master.

Ouch. See? How my heart kinda fell out of my bullet holed chest and is now currently flopping around like a fish outta water?

Yeah. Even thinking his name hurts.

"What I mean is, girls have boobs because boobs are for chicks and they're made up of like, fat right? And you wear a really tight get up, all shorts and that bra thing, yeah? And I – as a male who is clearly spoken for – noticed all the scars on your arms and legs, m'kay? So, naturally, when you have pecs…like, actual flexible pecs, I was a tad shocked."

I snorted. Then flexed my aforementioned 'pecs'.

He gaped.

"I don't care about my boobs, Dante." I said evenly, still clenching and unclenching the muscles in my chest. "How the hell would I fight with them? I don't care if Trish and Lady can, that's beside the point. They grew up with them."

He opened his mouth, probably to point out I was deprived again, but I cut him off.

"Weren't you ordering your pizza and baby bursts or something?"

Dante blinked a little dumbly. Then:

"Max," he called, a little weakly. "C'mere, Max."

Max, in red pants and a Mummy's Little Devil tee, skidded into the room and grinned up at his dad.

"What up, G?" he said brightly, white blonde hair flicked to the right side of his forehead.

Dante pointed, without looking at his son. "She's never had a pizza. Or ice cream. Or fairy floss."

"What about starburst babies?" Max asked, completely horrified. "Dad... Please tell me-"

"Never." Dante said dramatically, and Max groaned, much like his father had, and slapped his face.

"She thinks they go on pizzas."

"Well, it is a good idea…"

"Not when she thinks they're actual babies."

Slightly vexed, I got up and left the room unnoticed, as the two were discussing the injustice of my less than normal diet. I think I heard them planning to tie me down to a chair and force feed me said babies until I admitted their glory.

I whished them the very best of luck.

Making my way up to my room, I ran into Nero, who hip and shouldered me into the wall.

Instead of smashing his head into the wall to prove my superiority, I ignored him and kept walking to my room.

Dante hadn't put me on room arrest since I just found ways to break out. He said he could trust me not to run, and that I could trust he would find me, if I did.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't really think of what I was doing until I was in Dante's room, with his sock drawer open and a bunch of dank socks in my hand.

"What am I doing?" I murmured, tossing the dodgily bundled socks down.

I think I was looking for photos. I knew Dante would have one, because my Master had one, and if a person like him had one, Dante would - should, definitely have a memoir too, right? My logic is good, right?

I pulled all the socks out and found not one, but three photos that had me reduced to a shaking, simpering idiot.

I turned, completely oblivious to Dante ducking sheepishly behind the door way, followed closely by Nero. I was staring so intently at the pictures I was half scared they were going to combust in flame.

I was in my room with in that very same second.

With a shaking hand, I flicked open my suitcase and dug out my five, very much loved photographs. The only ones my Master had let me take, and keep. Until now, I didn't understand why.

It turns out they were staged much like his own were.

The first two photos, the ones that had no significance at all to Dante, was one Mira had taken, with me seven feet in the air, and my Master ready to catch me. He had thrown me up there in the first place, to see if I was scared of heights, but when he'd caught me and I laughed and asked him to do it again, he rolled his eyes.

"I do it to myself." he'd muttered.

"At least you get a good work out on you're ar- WOAH!!!!"

The next one was of my Master's spine. And shoulders. And arms.

At the time, I didn't understand why my Master had let me keep such a photo, but now I certainly did.

It was extremely flattering.

The contours of his muscled back and shoulders were in shadow, the spikes of his hair lank with sweat. He was showing me discipline, by holding himself in a very difficult pose for twenty four hours.

The pose itself was alot like the crucified Christ, with his arms out and one foot on top of the other. Supporting him were two simple metal poles he later used to teach me how to use anything to my advantage, but stick with my weapon.

The next photo, and this is where I started to feel homesick, was two boys on a swing set, the red one swung high in the air, laughing with his eyes shut tight, while the blue one gave the camera a small, shy smile, barely swinging.

There was a man with his hands wrapped around the blue one's chains, smirking at the person behind the camera, with his head cocked much like Dante's usually was. There was a flushing green tree in the back ground, a few leaves yellowing and on the floor. The sun broke through the gaps in the leaves, lighting up the magical scene.

I shuffled through my most treasured possessions until I found the one that fit the bill. My photo was almost completely white, because of the snow. It was me on a swing, wrapped up to my eyeballs in a fat purple jacket, giving the camera a little smile, whilst my Master stood behind me with a formal air, his head cocked, and a small, barely traceable smile on his face too.

That was the first time I had ever left the house. I was five years old. It was about a week after my Master took care of the bullying problem. Mirabella was at the airport, and I was sick with some cold, and 'couldn't be trusted home alone.' So he'd given the nearest Pumpkin patch worker three hundred dollars, and told her to prepare me for snow. We were waiting for Mira to land when I spotted the swing, and tried to drag Master Vergil over to it. He, of course, gave me his best 'I'm-far-too-awesome/high-and-mighty-for-such-petty-things' look, when I pulled my puppy eyes and skipped over there any way, he didn't really have a choice. Mira had one photo left on her disposable camera, and we were it.

The second photo:

A blue and red decked training arena. The walls were bare, but I spotted a fireplace to the left corner of the picture. The teenage boy in blue sweats to the left, with a white tee on, his hair slicked back and sword deflecting a blow: while the teen aged boy in red stabbed out at him, black tank top, red basket ball shorts. There was a smug look on the blue one's face. The other boy's lip was drawn up, snarling, because he knew it was another battle he'd just forfeited.

My photo was taken by Mira, so it was a little off centre. The training room, under both ground and a little wooden shack, was always cold and grey. Weapons of all sorts lined the walls - not unlike Dante and his trophies. My Master stood on the left in a perfect stance, as he did in Dante's photo, deflecting the stab with victory in his sights. He was shirtless in my photo, but still in what looked to be the same, faded blue sweats. I was the one on the right, in my tiny red short shorts and black tank, all sweaty and red. I too, looked really annoyed I'd already lost another match.

The third photo was the worst. I felt tears clog my throat up, if that can actually happen.

It was a small Christmas tree. There were a few small gifts under it and an abundance of over decorating, which looked fire hazardous. Dante had his arms around my Master's shoulders with his chin planted on his head, beaming at the camera. The teenage boy, who looked mildly pleased with the two short swords in his hand, looked up at his brother.

It really was a beautiful photo.

Freakishly like mine.

The small tree, only with a few measly decorations because we'd forgotten to go and buy them. Hey, we were studying something so important I can't remember the name of it. Shut up.

There were a total of six presents under our tree that year: two for Mira, who'd done everything Christmas wise, two for my Master, and two for me. It wasn't like my Master didn't give me presents: he gave me lots of things, all the time. But I was surprised when his present for me popped up there randomly.

I had given Mira a silver necklace with a small diamond on the end. My master gave her two giant ruby drop earrings, passing it off as : "Well I have no use for them, do I?"

(I suggested Marti Gra, only in my head. Would you be game to say it out loud?)

Mira had brought my Master a sword cleaning kit, which he was actually grateful for, and I had brought him a book, entitled: "How To Understand The Actions of Your Teenage-" but I had scribbled out every "Daughter" in the book, replacing it with "Rachel." It was so funny, trying to keep writing my own name over a title. It said stupid things like : "...And remember, your teenage Rachel is just like every other teenage Rachel out there: full of hormones and ready to do what it is all teenage Rachel's do."

Or even: "...It is not uncommon for your teenage Rachel to tack the name of a male counter part on hers, or declare her undying love to boys (or girls: see page 429) of her age."

But my fave was: "Teenage Rachel's are known for their irrevocable love of chocolate, and shiny, expensive things."

He studied it intently.

And as for me? Mira had given me a basket full of toffee, and the frilly pink dress that had never been worn. (That was to hide my toffee, although I'm pretty sure Master Vergil could smell it.)

Master Vergil gave me something I never did get over: a small blue pendant on a fine silver chain, oval shaped and plain, (giggle, I made a rhyme!) only full to the brim with magic that would call my master to me if ever I needed him. Like a kind of, radio/homing beacon. I don't think he knew I knew what it was, because when I asked him about it, he said. very plainly : "Girls like jewellery." And didn't explain.

I wear it on it's chain which sits over my heart.

The photo was exactly like Dante's, except for two short hand swords, my book was open in his lap.

I felt tears slide over my cheeks. He tried so hard for me, and I never once took the time out to say that I loved everything he did for me: or that I loved him. Not until the day he kicked me out. Not until the day that I wanted mercy from him.

I had never begged for mercy before. When he'd thrown me in the dam. When he'd beaten me to unconsciousness with a stick. When he'd made me go hungry for five days for playing with Yamato. When he'd almost broken my fingers by bending them back, demanding to know what boy had dared to call the house looking for me.

I never said to let up. To lay off.

"Oh, God." I sobbed, touching the photo with my smiling face on it. "Just kill me now. Have mercy on me, please, god."

It wasn't until Nero had said something that I realised he was in the room, with Dante leaning on the doorframe. His face was sad. Nero's face was set.

"Excuse me?" I said shrilly, getting to my feet.

"I said," Nero growled a demon growl at me, and folded his arms over his chest. "'He won't'. God won't have mercy for you. He didn't have mercy for me, and I've saved the world. So man up, you little snob, and stop the begging. It isn't becoming of you."

I was shocked. For all of about two seconds. Then I remembered that Nero was an asshole and could go die in a hole. I stood up, the forgotten photos slipping from my fingers and drifting in sad silence to the floor.

Their twin memory beside them.

"Just because you asked doesn't mean you asked nicely." I bit back, wiping my face for trace (I'm at it again!) of tears. "And because you think you've saved the world doesn't mean you've done it."

He sneered. Coupled with those horrific eyes and arm, it made for a scary picture.

"Oh yeah? And what have you done that's worth God noticing? Blasphemy? Kill anything innocent lately? Maybe a little bit of envy in the mix?"

"Well I sin like any normal. Human." I said through gritted teeth.

He bared his own, human hand closing self consciously over the wrist of his not-so-human one.

"How dare you?!"

"Quite easily, I assure you."

Dante stepped forwards.

"That's enough, both of you. Nero, get out of-"

"Butt the hell out, you asshole." Nero snapped.

And for some reason, the wounded expression on Dante's face had me arcing up something chronic.

"Nero, kid, just calm-"

"DON'T YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" Nero roared, and something breakable slid off a wall and smashed, though I couldn't be effed looking.

I was too busy glaring at the back of a snow white head.

"I'VE BEEN NOTHING BUT GOOD TO YOU, AND THE KIDS, AND PUTTING UP WITH TRISH'S BITCHING! EVEN WITH KYRIE DIEING, I TRIED SO HARD FOR YOU-!"

"Boo hoo, you pansy arse." I sneered, my upper lip lifting. He whirled on his heel at me. "Some bitch dies, big whoop. I bet she didn't just chuck you out of the house and tell you to get gone."

For a second. Just one, measly second, I felt the sorrow in the air. I felt my face flush and knew I'd gone to far. I even opened my mouth to apologise.

Then: "Yeah you're right. What, suckin' dick didn't cover the rent anymore?"

I lunged at Nero with the physical graciousness of a lethal feline and grievous bodily harm in mind. Just how I had been taught, like I had been taught to defend my Master's honour.

I caught him around the throat. He caught me around the waist, both his hands overlapping. Either I was ridiculously skinny, or he had big assed hands.

Or, you know, a combination of both.

He stumbled back and I hooked my ankles around the back of his knees, tugging, bringing him to the floor.

I was barely aware of Dante trying to tug us apart: but now Nero was punching at my ribs and face, whilst I pulled his nose up and slammed his head down. Somehow Dante got involved, and instead of tearing us apart he was throwing twice as many punches in both directions. I felt Dante's elbow whizz past my face as my knuckles collided with something vaguely feeling like a mushy rib beneath me. I saw Nero wheeze at that, but it didn't stop his punch landing in Dante's jaw, or the demon enhanced hand start to strangle me.

At first, Nero managed to keep Dante preoccupied with one, human hand, and I punched and bit and clawed at every part of his face. Then I couldn't see straight, and I tore at the rocks around my throat.

Dante noticed, three seconds too late.

I could see such a bright, warm light, and someone I knew only as Safety, standing before me, in all their billowing robed glory.

I let my last breath go with a single word, and smiled, knowing that everything was going to be alright.

"Vergil..."