Author's Note: Thanksgiving means being thankful that I finally got off my ass and updated. I'm including myself in that. I was feeling rather stuck on this chapter because there were some major plot points that I had to decide on before I could write it. We're entering the last major arc of the story now, and I didn't want to write myself into a plot hole. Hopefully I haven't. :)

One last disclaimer: this chapter might make your head explode at the end. I apologize in advance. And I promise it will eventually make sense.


Chapter Twelve

Haunted

It seemed to Karasuma as if they were traveling through a cloud. Milky whorls of dense fog had been swirling outside the windows ever since they came within a mile of their destination. The region was rather mountainous, and she knew that misty mountaintops were more than just a cliché, but the obscuring fog still struck her as a bad sign. Similar fog had surrounded the area where Beatrice opened her gateway into the underworld, after all, and they had encountered no other fog in their trip until this point. Perhaps she was simply being paranoid, but at this point, she couldn't think of a good reason not to be.

"What's my next turn?" she asked Michael who was still struggling to tame the awkwardly folded map he had stitched together from computer printouts.

He attempted to fold a no longer necessary part of the map out of the way, but the paper fought him at every turn. The fact that he was sandwiched between Sakaki and Vergil and Robin on the middle seat didn't help his efforts any either since he was going to great lengths to avoid disturbing Robin's slumber and consequently kept inadvertently elbowing Sakaki instead. Sakaki, in turn, howled dramatically at every slight. "Right on the next street…I think," he replied finally with less certainty than she would have liked to hear.

"Does any of this look familiar to you?" she asked Dante. She had asked him to ride up front with her when they got close to their destination because she had hoped he could help her navigate, but he was doing a dismally disappointing job of it so far.

"Maybe. But what difference does that make anyway?" he grumbled irritably. "I don't know anything about this place where you made reservations, so why would I know how to find it?"

Taking a deep breath and trying to hold on to her fraying patience, she replied with forced calm, "I thought that maybe you could figure something out from the street address. Besides that, the website said this hotel is converted from some sort of historical house, so it's very likely it was around when you lived here."

"That was a long time ago."

Dante frowned severely out the window and she marveled--not for this first time during the trip--at his acerbic demeanor. She had concluded from their closeness during the last half of the flight that he and Trish had made up finally, but judging from his continuous sour expressions and the distant look in his eyes he still had plenty to angst about. She imagined that Vergil's presence had quite a bit to do with his mood, and the clearly unpleasant memories that returning to his hometown had unearthed were not helping either. Still, it was dispiriting to see his normally irrepressible personality so subdued.

"What's the name of hotel again?" Sakaki asked.

"The Monarch," Michael replied. "And according to local lore, it's haunted."

"That's just superstition," Karasuma countered quickly. "It had a high rating on Trip Advisor and none of the reviews mentioned anything about ghosts. Besides that, it was the only place I could find rooms for all of us, so we're just going to have to live with it."

"I hope Solomon's not there waiting for us," Doujima said from the back seat with a sigh. "They could have intercepted you making reservations."

"We'll just have to see."

The road snaked through a thick grove of trees and past an ancient, gothic church, stone spires swallowed by the thick fog less than halfway up and stained glass lit only dimly from within. She glanced at Dante, thinking that surely this was a landmark he could not have forgotten, but she regretted looking at him when saw the deep scowl twisting his features.

"We should be getting close," Michael announced above the rattle of his unwieldy papers.

Slowly, the shadowy bulk of a large structure began to materialize on the murky horizon and Karasuma slowed when she saw the wooden sign swaying slightly in a breeze next to a paved drive. The words were painted in gold and black and a stylized butterfly was perched on the curve of the "h" in Monarch, the double meaning of the word emphasized by the outline of a crown bordering the sign.

"I guess this is it," Karasuma said, turning into the drive and following it as it arced up the hill toward the monstrous house. The structure was still little more than a nebulous shadow when she sensed Dante stiffen beside her.

"Stop the car," he hissed with such command in his voice that she obeyed without thinking.

"What's wrong?"

Doujima leaned forward in her seat. "Is Solomon here waiting for us?" Doujima asked anxiously.

"If they are, I certainly can't see them," Sakaki commented, peering through the window on his side of the vehicle.

"Something's not right. Everyone stay in the car," Dante ordered, opening his door and dropping down to the pavement. Karasuma watched him with fear tightening her chest, shivering at the cool, moist air that slipped inside before he slammed the door behind him.

"What does he think he's doing?" Karasuma snapped, not even trying to repress her annoyance. Dante was not exactly the secretive type, but he had been irritatingly inscrutable lately and it was reminding her of a certain witch hunter they had left behind in Japan. Would it have killed him to explain himself?

To her surprise, Vergil was the one who answered her question. "This is not just any historical house," he said crisply, his voice icy calm. "This is our house—the house where Dante and I grew up."

"I thought you said your house had burned to the ground," Karasuma countered.

"It did," Vergil replied simply.

"Then how do you explain--"

"I can't," he interrupted with a sharp edge to his voice.

"Maybe someone rebuilt it," Michael offered uncertainly.

"Perhaps. But I am not going to simply sit here and wonder about it."

"Dante said—" Sakaki began awkwardly, but hesitated when Vergil turned an icy glare on him.

A cruel twist to his lips, Vergil said, "Dante's orders mean nothing to me. If you are content to follow them, then stay here as you long as you like, but I imagine that it will make little difference to anything dangerous out there whether you are inside this vehicle or not."

Karasuma considered his words, thinking about her frustration with Dante's unexpected overprotectiveness and wondering why Dante seemed to think they were incapable of taking care of themselves now anyway. They weren't just any civilians out for a Sunday drive. They made their living fighting dangerous beings.

She caught Trish's eye in the rear view mirror. "Trish? What do you think?"

Smiling wryly, Trish unhooked her seat belt. "If this place is a trap, then we're already in it, and if we're in danger, then cowering in here isn't going to keep us safe."

Vergil glanced at her with a raised eyebrow as if he hadn't expected her to agree with him.

Her mind made up, Karasuma threw the Land Rover into park. "That's good enough for me."

She looked back as she slid out of the car, watching Vergil attempt to deposit Robin on the seat so that he could make his way to the door. Despite his efforts, she continued to cling to him desperately in her sleep and refused to relinquish her hold when he tried to pull away. Half crouched in the minimal space between the seats, Vergil frowned fiercely and ungently tore her fingers away from his shirt. Robin awoke with a start, gazing up at him with wide green eyes as he pushed her back on the seat and turned toward the door without pausing.

Karasuma considered checking on Robin, but noticed that Michael had hung back as well and was already talking to her. Deciding they would be all right together, Karasuma turned her attention back to the house. Moisture clung to her skin as she walked through the fog, sending shivers down her spine as she watched the hulking mansion gain solidity before her with every step. The structure was imposing even aside from its supposed impossibility, grotesque gargoyles sneering down from the rooftop and thick stone walls carpeted with ivy framing tall, dark windows.

Dante was already standing at the front steps, his back turned to them and his hands clenched at his sides. His brother reached him first, and Dante seemed to sense his presence since he growled, "Is this why you suggested coming here?" Spinning on his heel, he leaned menacingly toward Vergil, his voice unnaturally gruff. "Were you leading us into a trap from the beginning?"

Not visibly concerned by the violence in Dante's eyes, Vergil glanced back at him casually. "Where's the trap? So far, I have yet to see any obvious signs of danger."

"You mean, aside from the huge fucking house behind me?"

Vergil shrugged. "It is an illusion. It has to be."

"Why would someone create an illusion if they didn't intend to use it as a trap?"

Tilting his head and regarding Dante serenely, Vergil replied. "I had no more idea what to expect here than you did. And this is far beyond what I could have expected. Perhaps it is a trap, but even if it is, do you have any better ideas about where we should go next?"

While Dante was still considering his response, the front door swung open with a whine and an elderly woman stepped out onto the porch. "Oh my," she gasped, stopping short when she saw the twins on her doorstep. "Pardon me. I was just coming out to pick up the mail. Are you guests?"

"We have reservations," Karasuma explained quickly, stepping around the brothers and smiling kindly at the woman.

Her eyes still focused on Dante and Vergil with an expression that could have been awe, the woman shook herself slightly and took a step back into the house. "Are you Ms. Karasuma?" she asked as she turned to Karasuma with a dazed expression.

"Yes. I know we're a little later than I expected, but we got lost."

"Oh, not a problem. Please, come inside." The frail woman ushered them into the marble entryway with a pleasant smile dividing her creased and hollowed face. "Right this way and we'll finish up the paperwork so I can show you to your rooms." Her eyes drifted back toward Dante and Vergil and Karasuma couldn't decide whether she was more distracted by their good looks or their intense expressions. Either way, Karasuma was glad that they were managing to keep their mouths shut for the moment at least.

"Thank you," Karasuma said, graciously following after her.

Pausing beside the brothers, she murmured, "Whatever is going on here, I think we'll find out more by playing along for the moment than by arguing." She couldn't tell if they agreed with her or not, but she turned her back on them anyway, deciding they would do whatever they wanted in the end regardless.

-----------

Trish watched the grandmotherly woman make her way gingerly up the stairs to the next floor, Vergil following in her wake. Wondering briefly whether the owner of the Monarch would be safe in Vergil's company, Trish considered following them at a distance, but thought better of it. Surely even Vergil had some scruples.

When they were gone, Karasuma held up the keys Mrs. Schartz had given her. "Now we just need to decide how to divide up these rooms. She said that there are three doubles and a single."

"Robin and I can take one of the doubles," Doujima said quickly, snatching at a key with one hand while she wrapped her other arm around Robin's. "Right, Robin? It'll be like a slumber party." Robin blinked up at her uncertainly, but Doujima didn't seem overly concerned by her reaction.

"And Michael and I can take another double," Sakaki said, watching Doujima closely as he grabbed another key. "We can look up porn on the internet."

Doujima's eyes flashed angrily at him, but Karasuma jumped on his statement before Doujima could say a word. "That's disgusting, Sakaki," she said sharply. "At least I know Michael's better than that, aren't you Michael?"

Blushing fiercely, Michael nodded and turned away. "Let's go, Haruto. I bought some new video games before we left."

"Just remember," Karasuma called after them, "we're here for a reason. We're not on vacation."

Distracted by the melodrama, Trish almost forgot to be anxious until she realized that there were only two keys remaining. She glanced at Dante who was leaning back against the wall and staring at one of the doors with a distant expression. Though she knew what kind of arrangement he would prefer, she was not sure she was ready for it.

"That's my old room," Dante said quietly, nodding at the door across from him and Trish breathed a silent sigh of relief.

Karasuma held up a key. "That's the single."

"Then, I guess we're sharing, Karasuma." She tried to hide the eagerness in her voice, but she could feel Dante looking at her and knew he had heard it despite her attempt.

"Actually, I would rather be as far away from my old room as possible. Would you mind taking it?"

"Not at all. I wouldn't mind having a room to myself," Karasuma said with a smile, glancing uncertainly at Trish. "Here's the key to the other room."

Though Trish couldn't be sure that Karasuma had picked up on the tension in the air, it seemed that she must have realized Trish was less than pleased by the situation judging by the way she hurried off down the hallway to her room. Still, Trish imagined Karasuma thought she was doing a good thing by encouraging them to be together; she probably thought it would help them to work out whatever was bothering them.

Dante was staring down at the key in his hand. "You're not okay with this, are you?"

Plucking the key from his palm, she shoved it into the lock and opened the door. "It's fine," she said more stiffly than she had intended.

The room was elegantly decorated, though a few homey touches like the basket of fruit on the dresser and the paintings of butterflies adorning the walls helped to make it feel less formal. Still, her attention settled immediately on the large bed at the center of the room with discomfort, and part of her mourned the fact that a week ago she would have been looking at it eagerly.

"Trish," Dante said softly as he followed her through the door, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "I can talk to Karasuma if—"

"It's okay, Dante," she said sharply, taking a step away from him and shutting the door behind them. Dante never acted this uncertain, and it bothered her that she had made him so hesitant.

She could feel him still watching her closely, could feel his concern like a weight on her back. "Okay." He pulled their suitcases over to the dresser. "I think everyone is planning on getting a little sleep while we still can. We've already wasted half the day driving, anyway, and I don't think anyone got much rest on the trip."

Nodding, she looked at the bed again, telling herself she was being stupid. She had shared a bed with him more times than she could count. What was she afraid of? The question already had an answer, and she knew it though she didn't want to admit it. She was afraid of herself. Afraid she would react instinctively again and hurt him.

"You should rest," he said. "I want to investigate this place a little more."

She turned to him in surprise. "Dante..."

Avoiding her gaze, he said with a stilted smile, "I couldn't possibly sleep right now anyway."

He left the room before she could find a way to respond and she sat down on the edge of the bed with a strange ache choking her chest.

----------

To Vergil's relief, the interior of the house was not as disturbingly familiar as the exterior. Though it was arranged exactly the same way, the conversion into a bed and breakfast changed its complexion enough that he could ignore the similarity with enough effort. Nevertheless, every so often, he would encounter an artifact he recognized, a picture frame or a vase in the places he remembered them, though the paintings and flower arrangements had changed.

"Here it is, dear." The elderly woman who owned the Monarch stopped at a set of heavy mahogany doors Vergil recognized immediately, but he wasn't sure how he felt about sleeping in his parents' bedroom. Unlocking the door and pushing it open with a thin smile, the woman stepped aside so that he could enter the room. "This is the master bedroom. It's the best room in the house," she said proudly.

Vergil was having a hard time not showing his shock. The room was exactly as he remembered it; every detail from the golden tassels tied about the velvet curtains to the candelabra perched on the mantle was as it had been when he had last stood in the room. He knew it was impossible—just as the entire house was impossible. Some powerful magic was at work here, using his memories as inspiration and modifying whatever structure they were actually standing within to match.

"Have you ever visited this town before?" the woman asked quietly, offering him the key to the room.

Taking the key reluctantly, he countered, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason, really. Just a lonely woman's overactive imagination, I suppose. I thought perhaps…but no. That would be impossible." She waved one frail hand dismissively and turned toward the door.

"What do you mean?" Vergil asked, curious in spite of himself.

She smiled wistfully, eyes crinkling as she focused on him again. "You just look like someone."

"Someone you know?"

"Oh, goodness, no!" Her laugh sounded like dry leaves crunching underfoot. "There's just an old portrait downstairs in my office. It came with the house when Roger and I bought it so long ago. You resemble the man in the painting."

"I see." Though Vergil knew that this was simply one more element to the illusion, it still bothered him. "I'd be interested in seeing it."

She nodded. "Come by the office later and I'll show you." Glancing around the room, she added, "I'm going back down to the front desk now. Let me know if you need anything."

Vergil turned slowly on his heel, surveying the room warily and trying not to look too closely at the plush bed at the center of the room. He wasn't sure how he had ended up with the largest room in the house, but he imagined he would be getting little sleep in it regardless. The thick carpet made hushed whispers beneath his boots as he crossed the room, his fingers grazing lightly over the carved wood post at the end of the bed.

The door snapped shut, and a smile tugged at his lips. He had been expecting Dante to track him down ever since they parted ways in the foyer; their argument outside the front door was still unfinished, after all. "Are you jealous that I got the best room in the house, brother?"

"This is the only room that suits you, Vergil. You have grown far beyond that quaint bedroom in the east wing."

Vergil started at the unexpected voice, turning sharply to face the pale figure standing just inside the room with one long-fingered hand resting against the door. "Lucifer," he breathed.

"You've done well, Vergil. For a short time, I actually believed you might betray me, but it seems you know better than to do something so foolish."

Looking away from the demon's fathomless eyes, Vergil squinted into the light pouring through the tall windows and tried to hide his apprehension. "Is that why you went to the trouble to create such an elaborate illusion? I brought my brother here as you requested. I imagine escape is no longer an option, so why continue the fantasy?"

Lucifer crossed the room slowly toward him, but the carpet did not make a sound beneath his feet. "You have done as I asked, Vergil, but that does not mean I trust you yet. I still require more proof before I will give you the place at my right hand. And the seal on my body has not been broken yet."

Vergil scowled. "You could lift the seal at any time. Why do you delay?"

Chuckling softly, Lucifer stopped beside him. "Surely you've realized by now that I require the living blood of Sparda to break the seal. Until you and Dante complete the ritual together willingly, the seal will remain unbreakable. There is no other way."

Vergil crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the bedpost. "So, we still need Dante. This illusion is for him, then. It will keep him off balance, and if he's off balance he will be easier to manipulate."

"Yes." Lucifer smiled faintly. "You already surmised as much before, did you not? That is why you made love to his woman…to destroy his sense of equilibrium." He leaned toward Vergil and traced one slender finger along his jaw. "Though I have to admit your boldness surprised me."

Repressing the shiver of revulsion building at the base of his spine, Vergil murmured, "Are you going to tell me where your body is sealed, or are you going to continue dragging this out?"

His smile widening, Lucifer took a step away. "I must admit that I am enjoying myself quite a bit. It has been a very long time since I've had any kind of diversion." Caressing the soft duvet spilling over the foot of the bed, he added, "And I can't help but wonder how long you will be able to continue denying your desires. It could be interesting to find out."

Vergil's eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's difficult to see the two of them together, isn't it?" Lucifer mused. "Perhaps that was the real reason you tried to create a division between them."

Ignoring Lucifer's implication as well as the anger building up within him, Vergil turned his back on the demon and approached the window. "Are you really willing to delay freeing your body any longer than is necessary? You can only survive so long in this world with your power halved as it is."

"I have all the time in the world," Lucifer answered mildly. "And your relationship with your brother intrigues me. No. I will let you discover where my body is hidden and how to free it on your own."

Vergil shook his head, his hand clenching on the smooth wood of the windowsill. "I don't understand why you would take such a senseless risk."

"I've already told you, Vergil. I'm testing you."

"To see whether I can withstand the temptation?" Vergil's anger burst out of the cage he had carefully constructed to keep it restrained. "I have lived my entire life with the temptation and never given into it. Is that not proof enough?"

An arrogant confidence shading his pale features, Lucifer said softly, "You forget. I am the tempter. My wish is for you to give in to your desires. Holding yourself back only makes you weak, and I refuse to keep such a weak servant at my side. If you will not claim what you want, then I may not have a use for you after I have regained my power."

Lost momentarily in the thrall of Lucifer's eyes, Vergil forced himself to look away through sheer force of will. "Taking what I want will only make tricking him into breaking the seal that much more difficult."

"Perhaps. But you have three more days to decide."

Vergil blinked in surprise. "Three days? I thought you had all the time in the world."

"I do." Lucifer blinked languidly at him. "But you do not."

Turning away, Vergil listened for the door to open, but it did not make a sound. Nevertheless, he knew he was alone again.

He was running out of choices—that was, if he had ever really had any choices in the first place. Pressing his forehead against the glass of the window, Vergil closed his eyes. Three days.

----------

Robin sat on the top step of the stairs leading down into a crumbling courtyard. Though most of the house seemed to be in relatively good repair, this courtyard had clearly been losing a battle against nature for a long time, stone railings and sculptures veined with cracks and slowly being strangled by vines. Even the fountain at the center of the space was beginning to disintegrate, the spray of water gushing weakly from a flower at the top that was missing half of its petals.

Clutching her cell phone, Robin punched in Amon's number again. She didn't need to raise the phone to her ear to hear it ringing. Staring at it fervently and waiting, she willed him to pick up this time. Again, it went to his voice mail, and again she hung up. She had already left him two messages. A third wouldn't make him call back any faster.

She could sense him only distantly, could feel that he was alive, but little more beyond that. It was more than she had been able to feel when he was in the underworld, but it was no less frustrating, especially since she now remembered all of the reasons why he was so important to her. While she wanted him to find his daughter—understood that he would never be able to forgive himself if he didn't—she was also afraid of how things would change if he did find her. Would he decide to take care of her himself now that her powers had awakened? Though Robin knew she was being selfish, she couldn't help wondering where she would fit in his life if that were the case.

Cupping the cell phone between her hands, Robin looked up at the sun sparkling through the tall pines on the horizon. It had painted the sky in brilliant ruddy hues that made the trees look as if they were on fire and she shook the mental image away, afraid that she might inadvertently make her vision a reality without meaning to. She was distracted and did not fully trust her own control at the moment.

The door creaked open behind her and she looked back over her shoulder, surprised to find Trish stepping out onto the veranda. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, hugging her arms to herself as a brisk breeze swept through the courtyard.

Robin shook her head and watched as Trish settled herself on the step beside her, noting the exhaustion written into the woman's features. Recalling the conversation she had had with her a few nights before and how tired she had seemed then, Robin wondered if she had been able to sleep at all since she returned to the human world.

Before she could say a word, Trish murmured, "Pretty sunset, isn't it?"

"Um…yes. It is."

"I guess you were probably wide awake after sleeping through the trip, weren't you?"

"Yes." Thinking about the trip reminded her of the way she had woken up, trying to burrow closer to the warmth and safety of the arms that had been holding her and thinking they had belonged to someone else entirely. Opening her eyes to find Vergil's cold expression only inches away had jarred her awake immediately.

"I tried to take a nap, but I couldn't sleep either. This place is unnerving." Trish shivered and drew her knees up to her chest.

"Something about it is strange," Robin said with a thoughtful nod. "It feels wrong, but not in the same way as the gate on Osorezan felt wrong. I can feel a strong source of power here, but either it is not as evil as the power I felt coming from the demon realm, or it is better concealed."

"I feel it too," Trish agreed. "And my gut says it has something to do with Lucifer. When the demon world and the human world intersect, time and space often react strangely."

"Do you think this really is Dante's old house?"

Trish hesitated. "I don't know. But even if it isn't, it's a good enough replica that it is almost the same thing."

"Being here is painful for him," Robin said without thinking. "It must bring back a lot of memories."

Trish was watching her closely, she realized, bright blue eyes scanning her expression. "Probably." Quickly changing the subject, she asked, "So, what were you doing out here, anyway?"

"I was trying to call Amon," Robin replied sadly, looking down at her phone again.

Smiling gently, Trish asked, "You're worried about him, aren't you?" Laughing suddenly, she amended, "But that's a pretty useless question, isn't it? Of course you're worried about him."

"I am," Robin answered quietly, thinking again about their late night conversation. "But that reminds me. I've been meaning to thank you. You were the only one who told me the truth about Amon, and I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your honesty."

"I'm just glad it worked out," Trish replied with a shrug. "With Amon, it's hard to tell. I wasn't sure if I was helping or simply creating more problems by suggesting that you talk to him."

"Maybe you should talk to Dante," Robin found herself saying, though she immediately regretted the words when she saw the way Trish stiffened in response.

Forcing a smile, Trish asked, "What makes you say that?"

"He's troubled. I can't make sense of his emotions, but they make me anxious."

Trish looked away, her counterfeit smile dissolving into a frown. "I'm afraid I'm to blame for some of them. It seems like all we've done since I came back from the demon world is argue."

"Why?" Robin asked in concern, leaning forward to get a better look at Trish's face.

Biting her lower lip, Trish said carefully, "There's something he deserves to know—something I should have told him right away. But I can't say the words. I can't find a way to explain it that won't make things worse."

"It seems to me that not telling him the truth is worse than whatever it is you might have to say. You told me the truth about Amon when no one else would. Surely he would rather know the truth than wonder about it, just like I did."

"I don't know. This is a pretty terrible truth."

Frowning, Robin clutched at her phone again. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

"Oh, Robin." Trish turned to her again with a smile, but this time it was more genuine. "I don't want you worrying about this too. But, if you want to help, maybe you could try to talk to him and cheer him up. It might make more difference coming from you."

"I will try, but…I think he needs you more right now than me."

Considering this silently, Trish sighed and looked back at the horizon. "The sun's set already," she said finally. "We should go back inside. It's only going to get colder."

----------

Dante stepped into the quiet of the office, unsurprised to see his brother next to one of the bookcases, a crumbling tome splayed open reverently in his hand. The room might have been converted into the business office for the owners of the Monarch, but it still looked enough like his father's study to make Dante pause. Gently nudging the door shut behind him with his boot, Dante rested a hand against the smooth, aged wood while watching his brother's silent silhouette. His fingers slid down the varnished door to the knob and turned the lock.

Vergil's lips curved into a humorless smile. Without looking away from his book he said quietly, "Wanting to keep me all to yourself, brother?"

Crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the door, Dante commented, "Business hours are over. What are you doing in here? If grandma catches you rummaging through her stuff, you'll be sorry."

Ancient paper rasped in the quiet as Vergil delicately turned a page. "Unless you failed to notice, these are not her books. They belonged to our father. Besides that, I actually had an invitation to come in here—unlike you. She thinks I look like the man in the painting." He nodded toward the large portrait hanging above the mantle. "What do you think?"

Dante frowned as he looked at the familiar painting, feeling as if his father's disapproving gaze was almost as real as it had been when he was alive. "You may look like dad, but that doesn't mean you take after him in any way that matters."

Sidestepping Dante's insult, Vergil asked with a sigh, "Did you come here for a purpose, Dante, or were you simply bored?"

Dante honestly didn't have a good answer to that question. He was trying to give Trish her space, and his feet had somehow led him to the one place he should have known he would be able to find Vergil. Although, he had to admit that part of him was itching for a fight, and talking with Vergil was almost guaranteed to end up that way. "What do you think?" he asked finally, repeating Vergil's previous question back to him.

Vergil turned another page, his eyes scanning rapidly over the thin, spidery characters scrawled over the paper. "I think you must have a purpose. A place so full of knowledge and learning as this one would not interest you otherwise." He snapped the book shut abruptly, pursing his lips as he slid it back into place on the bookshelf, his fingers tracing over the worn spines of other books lightly before pausing on a volume at the end of the shelf. His fingers caressed the gold-leafed binding gently as he added, "I trust you did not come here for a fight. You know I would refuse to fight you in this place."

He couldn't help but smile; sometimes his brother knew him too well. "I don't know about that. I could always hold a few precious books ransom and make you beg."

Vergil's gaze sliced through the air toward Dante, icy blue sparking through slitted eyes. "Stop acting like a child. I already told you that I did not know what to expect when we came here, but I am trying to make the best of the situation regardless. This infantile desire of yours to prove yourself against me will have to wait."

Pushing himself away from the door with a shrug, Dante wandered farther into the room, trying to keep the bitterness from his face. "Always writing all the rules, aren't you?" His jaw clenched unconsciously as he paused next to Vergil. "I don't see the point. After all, when have I ever followed the rules?"

Regarding Dante neutrally, Vergil answered, "Never. Not even when breaking the rules worked to your disadvantage."

"So," Dante said softly, reaching behind Vergil to pull a book off the shelf, his lips hovering over Vergil's ear as he continued in a hushed tone, "found anything interesting yet? Or are you even really looking? You probably already know the answer, but you've got to make it look believable when you decide to share it with us, right?"

Vergil did not react verbally to Dante's proximity, but his breaths were shallower than they had been, his lips slightly parted and his shoulders tense. Dante smirked, resting back against the desk behind him and flipping open the book. He had learned long ago that invading Vergil's personal space often won him a glimpse of weakness from his brother; he didn't really know why, but he could only assume that Vergil was uncomfortable with uninvited physical contact. To his knowledge, even their mother had never so much as hugged Vergil—but then again, their mother had always seemed a little frightened of him.

"I'm growing tired of constantly having to defend myself to you," Vergil said, visibly composing himself as he watched Dante flip roughly through the book. "I wish you could realize that we're on the same side this time."

Dante snorted. "Are we?" He wasn't even looking at the pages as he flipped through them, but he enjoyed annoying his brother with his irreverence for the age of the book.

"I have cooperated with you from the moment I stepped into the human world. I have shared with you what I know of our enemy's weakness, and I have even allowed these humans to tag along though they are little more than dead weight."

"How magnanimous of you."

Vergil's piercing blue gaze sharpened. "Do you even know what that word means?"

Slapping the book shut with a palm on either cover, Dante glared up at Vergil with a vengeful smile. "You bet your pretentious ass I do."

Vergil raised an eyebrow. "Pretentious. Now there's a word that cuts both ways. I realize looking at me is a little like looking in a mirror, but you can't use that insult on me without applying it to your own image as well. If that ostentatious red coat isn't a pretense, I don't know what is."

Dante's smirk widened, though it was tempered by more than a little bitterness. Stroking his fingertips languidly over the soft leather of his jacket, he replied acridly, "Ah, come on Verge. This is no pretense. I just look good in red, that's all."

Something was burning in Vergil's eyes, and yet his expression was even frostier than before. "My point--before you derailed it with your flaunting of higher vocabulary—was that I have been nothing but accommodating since we began working together. I have given you no reason to doubt my intentions, and I don't understand why you continue to question me at every turn."

Tilting his head and shaking it minutely as he placed the book down on the table next to him, Dante said earnestly, "The only thing I will ever trust about you is your ability to disappoint me."

Vergil actually flinched; it was a brief reaction, but Dante's quick eyes caught it easily. Squaring his shoulders, Vergil retorted, "I've never looked for or needed your approval. It's unfortunate for you that the reverse is not true."

Shrugging mildly, Dante smiled again. "I stopped looking for that a long time ago—as soon as I realized it wasn't worth shit."

A short sigh rushed out of Vergil's lips, and the jut of his jaw indicated that he was beginning to get truly annoyed. "While bantering with you is always a captivating pursuit, it is also a futile one. These erstwhile games are becoming more tedious with every repetition."

Dante's smile tightened. "Are you testing my vocabulary, brother? You're using even more snobbish words than usual."

Vergil blinked apathetically at him. "Do I need to find you a dictionary?"

Chuckling softly, Dante said coyly. "What good would that do? You can't actually expect me to know how to spell all of those tired, old words."

Vergil pursed his lips. "I suppose I expected you to have at least a basic grasp of phonetics, but it seems I've overestimated you again."

Pressing his hand over his heart, Dante smiled mockingly. "Ouch."

Narrowing his eyes, Vergil shifted his weight to one foot, regarding Dante closely. "Why are you prolonging this pointless conversation, Dante? You have done nothing but trade insults with me, yet you wouldn't have come here without a purpose. Are you simply avoiding the inevitable, or do you truly enjoy arguing with me enough to lock the door behind you to ensure we aren't interrupted?"

Leaning back against the heavy desk with his palms resting against the cool wooden surface and his fingers curling over the edge, Dante let the smile fade from his lips. "It's my turn to write some rules."

"Oh?" Vergil's brow arched sardonically over his hostile gaze.

"I don't know what you did," Dante said dispassionately, working hard at keeping the anger out of his voice but hoping Vergil wouldn't notice just how hard it was for him to do so, "but I know you did something to Trish when you were in the demon world."

Vergil's expression twisted with conceit and he raised his chin haughtily. "I can't say I'm surprised that she didn't tell you what happened, although I find your phrasing regrettable. I didn't 'do' anything to her that she didn't allow to happen."

Though Dante had been living with the reality for several days that something had happened that Trish wasn't telling him, he hadn't expected that hearing the confirmation of it would be so painful. His repressed anger burning too hotly for him to hold it back any longer, he snapped, "Don't even try to cast the blame on her. Admit it. You raped her, didn't you?"

Though the blush on his cheeks was faint, it seemed all too obvious against Vergil's pale skin. "I would not have touched her if she had not desired my touch."

"Is that so?" Dante growled. "I'd like to know how you came to that conclusion. Because if she wanted you so badly, I don't think she would be walking around like a wounded bird right now."

"Maybe you should ask her why," Vergil replied icily.

Dante did not know if his brother really was perceptive enough to know just how much that comment would hurt him, but it didn't matter anyway. Vergil was playing him like a violin and he was allowing him to do it. Taking a deep breath, he managed to reign in his anger enough to say softly, "Just so we're clear, I know you think you're untouchable, but I've learned a few things since the last time I beat your ass. I'm letting you off the hook for now because I don't have another choice, but I'll find a new choice real damn quick if you even look at her again."

Vergil's lips tightened in contempt. "Your bravado, as usual, is suffocating. Can you do anything but make ill-mannered threats?"

Closing the distance between them in a step and gripping Vergil's throat through the silk of his cravat, Dante shoved him back against the bookcase with a visceral smile, enjoying the way his brother recoiled from his proximity. "You'd be surprised by what I can do."

"Still too slow, Dante," Vergil whispered, and Dante felt the cool tip of a blade slip between the open folds of his coat and press against the thin material of his shirt. It irked him more than a little that the blade was his own, a knife he had hidden in a sheath at his thigh. As much as Dante hated to give his brother credit for anything, he had to admit he had some serious talent. Unfortunately, that talent was getting in the way of Dante's attempt to intimidate him.

Trying to regain at least a shred of his pride, Dante replied, "If I were really trying, you'd know."

"Oh, you're certainly trying enough as it is. My patience is nearly at its limit." The tip of the blade traced a path down Dante's chest and over his stomach, the touch light enough to keep from tearing the fabric, but firm enough for Dante to feel the menace of the blade clearly.

"Careful with the shirt," Dante murmured.

"I am always careful. Perhaps you should be more careful with your threats."

"Yeah? Well, maybe you should be more careful where you stick your dick."

Vergil blinked slowly in response, his lips twisting with distaste. "Your vulgarity subverts your point, Dante."

"Funny, I thought rape was a little more vulgar than crude language."

Tensing beneath Dante's grip on his neck, Vergil's nostrils flared. "You throw that term around recklessly for someone who hasn't bothered to learn the whole story."

Leaning close enough that their noses were nearly touching, Dante glared into Vergil's narrowed cerulean eyes with a ferocity he hoped his brother could feel. "As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter what the story is. You won't manipulate me into doubting her." His hand tightened on Vergil's neck and Dante considered finishing the job, crushing his brother's neck right here and now and ending this feud before anyone else had to suffer.

Vergil's eyes drifted shut and Dante started when he felt his brother's cool fingertips against his skin, pushing his shirt up over his abdomen. He was too surprised by the action to react before the cold steel of his own blade plunged into his stomach and twisted. Stumbling backward, Dante felt the heavy desk scoot a few inches over the floor when he landed against it, his backward momentum encouraged by the press of Vergil's weight as it pinned him down.

"I spared your precious shirt, Dante," Vergil snarled, "but you can spare me your ingratitude."

Panting for air, Dante gripped the dagger still buried in his stomach, but Vergil's hand caught his before he could pull it out. "I thought you didn't want to fight me here," Dante yelled in Vergil's face. "Might get blood on some of your archaic books."

His face set in a stony grimace, Vergil roughly caressed Dante's cheek with his free hand, whispering, "If it's your blood, dear brother, I might forgive it."

Dante kicked him in the shin and threw Vergil off of him with a grunt. "You are one sick fuck," he managed between gasps for air as he pulled the dagger out and pressed his other hand against the wound.

Vergil shook his head, straightening his coat and putting his hair back in order. "Trying to reason with you is a waste of time, Dante. You only understand brute force."

"I think I understand a few other things," Dante murmured, feeling the flow of blood slow beneath his fingers and knowing the wound was already healing.

Turning away abruptly, Vergil said quietly, "For what it's worth, your threats are unnecessary. I have no intention of touching that woman again. She bores me even more than you do." He glanced back at Dante over his shoulder, his expression indiscernible. "Now, leave me."

"I don't follow your orders." Dante knew his childish retort was not really helping his cause since he had absolutely no desire to stay any longer, but the reaction was too deeply ingrained to be ignored.

Vergil sighed deeply, looking away again. "I know." Something about his tone made Dante ache inside; Dante hated this traitorous feeling even more than he hated his brother.

"Enjoy your books," Dante said sourly, meticulously wiping his bloodied hand on the book still resting innocently on the table. "I hope you get a paper cut."

His boots rapped harshly against the floor as he crossed the room to the door, but his sensitive ears still caught Vergil's faintly murmured words, though he wished that they hadn't.

"Just keep hating me, Dante."

---------

Nagira whistled tunelessly as he navigated the dreary hallways of their hotel. Juggling two cups of steaming coffee in one hand while trying to open the door to their hotel room, he managed to make it inside without spilling a drop, though the plastic lids on the Styrofoam cups were mostly responsible for the achievement.

He had escaped the room after their early morning argument to give Amon a chance to cool down. It was certainly not the first disagreement since they started working together, though it had been one of the fiercest yet. "I've got coffee," he announced with forced pleasantness as he entered the room, hoping the peace offering would help to soothe Amon's fraying nerves.

Amon nodded vaguely, his cell phone pressed against his ear and his gaze distant.

Sighing, Nagira placed Amon's coffee neatly on the table and took a seat on the end of one of the beds. Though Amon refused to acknowledge weakness, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that he was wearing down; the fruitless weeks of searching on top of all of the turmoil he had been through recently was pushing him to his limit and Nagira knew it was inevitable that he would eventually break down. No one could keep going this way forever.

"Yes, I know." Amon said sharply into the phone. "I will find her. Just buy me a little more time with headquarters. I feel like we're getting close."

Nagira shook his head and took a sip of coffee, hissing when he burned his tongue. They were no closer to finding her than they were to finding the lost city of Atlantis, but it was admirable of Amon to maintain such a positive attitude.

That had been the subject of their argument that morning, in fact. Nagira had suggested that Amon take a break and let Solomon search for her themselves. He wasn't making much progress on his own, and he had already gone through the stress of rescuing his daughter. She was safe now, thankfully, and well protected, but that victory had cost Amon more than he was willing to admit. Even exhausted as he was, though, Amon had refused to give up and insisted that he could not leave this task for anyone else. Nagira figured that this girl must really be special. Otherwise, so many people wouldn't be after her, or willing to risk so much to find her.

"No," Amon said with a hint of frustration. "She's still not answering my phone calls. But we are at a hotel in the town they said they were going to. If they aren't still here somewhere, then we'll find out where they went." He paused, his knuckles turning white as his hand clenched on the phone. "I'll give you an update on my progress tomorrow."

Sipping carefully at his steaming coffee, Nagira asked when Amon had hung up the phone, "That your girlfriend?"

Amon scowled at him as he reached for his coffee. "She is not my girlfriend."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Watching him carefully, his grey eyes narrowed, Amon commented, "You know, if you're so unhappy with this situation, you can go back to Japan. I don't need you here anymore."

Nagira felt emotion clench at his heart and he took a deep breath. "I've come with you this far. I'm not running away now." He shook his head. "I just never thought I would be on the same side as Solomon—it kind of goes against everything I've ever believed."

Scoffing at him, Amon turned toward the window, the coffee cup raised to his lips. "Simone is safe now. And you know that Zaizen was the one responsible for her capture, not Solomon. As far as your beliefs go, I think you know as well as I do what's at stake now. We have to find her."

"Yeah. So you've said," Nagira replied sourly. "Whoever this Robin is, she must be really powerful to have everyone in such an uproar."

"It's about more than just power," Amon said quietly.

Studying Amon's profile, Nagira considered his statement. He couldn't figure out what it was in Amon's voice that unsettled him, but whenever Amon talked about Robin, Nagira had the feeling there was something he wasn't saying. He found himself wanting to find her at least as much as everyone else did, if only to figure out why Amon's eyes looked so troubled whenever he said her name. Anyone who could get to Amon like that was someone Nagira wanted to meet.


Author's Note:

Please refrain from throwing sharp objects at me. Seriously, it will make sense in the end. And it will be cool (I hope). I know it's a terrible way to end a chapter, but if you're beginning to think I never make any progress in this story (which I sometimes worry about) then just remember that we found out some important things in this chapter. What exactly happened between Trish and Vergil all those chapters ago is starting to come out finally. And Vergil, in case you forgot, is not necessarily a good guy. I'm sure you didn't forget, but still… One thing about Vergil though, he's very careful not to lie--he twists the truth like a flimsy twist-tie, but he doesn't really lie. Also, Lucifer is starting to get involved again and it's a safe bet to guess that he will be the end boss.

A couple random notes for any nerds out there who might actually care…

Trip Advisor: I'm a fan of The Office and I couldn't help thinking of Dwight's Beet Farm Bed and Breakfast and his obsession with reviews on Trip Advisor.

Business hours are over: Another Flight of the Conchords reference. Look up "Business Time" on YouTube and you'll know why I can't but crack up at this line even though it wasn't meant to be funny in context.

Also, the scene with Vergil and Dante in this chapter was something I wrote at least six months ago and had been waiting impatiently to write my way up to. If it feels out of the flow of the rest of the chapter, that's probably why. I had to practically rewrite it to make it fit as it is, but I liked it too much to not put it in somewhere.

Anyway, I hope you're all still with me and willing to come along to the end of this story--because it's actually in sight now!