Chapter 13 – Reflections Of The Past

The landing didn't even seem to phase him. The ground came up quickly, and still, all it required of him was to bend his knees slightly so as not to jar either him or Lady. His coat whirled about him as they came to their abrupt halt, Dante and Nero having clear the club some time ago and watching them descend. All the party and dance goers, along with the bouncers, had fled, probably once the gunfire and noise had started. Vergil let Lady slide down to the ground and out of his hold. She quickly parted from him, walking over to Dante.

"No problems, I trust?" his brother asked as Lady passed him, Vergil following her and stopping before him.

"None," was all he said.

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"So…where do we go now?" Nero asked as soon as they returned to Devil May Cry, beaten, tired, and honestly lost.

"We can take a look into that later, kid," Dante said, yawning upon entering and heading straight for his desk and chair, "Lady can look into any other places Deumos might like to crash."

She had only just closed the door, Vergil passing her as she entered. He saw Lady's face…well, change. He didn't exactly know how to describe it. For a second, she looked at his brother with a strange expression, and the next, she whipped around to face him.

"Thanks for volunteering me, Dante," she muttered sorely, sitting down at the nearest chair and began laying out all of her weapons, "You never cease to bail yourself out of work."

Dante didn't say a word. At the moment, he was pretending to be asleep.

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It seemed that there were now two people who filled him with questions. And it was something Vergil was unaccustomed to. Unlike his brother, he did not necessarily need a neon sign pointing directly to his destination. While Dante lacked certain subtleties and an inward sight, he had always been very introspective. If a question came up, it never went unanswered. Everything was simple, easy. Not a single problem bothered him for long. The solution was meditated on and carried out. That was all.

But what could you do when the questions only led to more questions?

Vergil was not used to such happenings. Everything up to that point had been that way.

Their father had left their home a long time ago, years before their mother had died at the hands of his brother. They had only been ten. After that, their mother turned reclusive, never leaving the house. She did not even talk as much as she used to. She did not sing as she went about her work, cleaning and caring for the house on the hillside. Neighbors stayed for shorter periods of time, afraid of intruding, afraid of staying too long. More and more of their teachers seemed to worry about the twins, wondering if they were cared. They had not known why at the time. Dinnertime was no longer filled with her laughter. A rare smile, and that might be all. Their mother seemed to have had her very soul taken from her.

He had not blamed her. Father's absence had done almost the exact same to him. It seemed that every inch of his carefree childhood had been wiped away when Sparda had disappeared. While Dante continued to be the child of the family, he preoccupied his time in becoming the man of the house. He was the oldest. With his father gone, it was his responsibility to take care of his mother and his brother. He had even begun to go about the tasks Sparda had done while he had been there, chopping wood for the fireplace, fixing things that were broken. He began to spend much of his time in his father's library, among the books. He had never had many friends. Making friends…Dante had always been good at that. He was too 'up tight' for that kind of thing.

Nothing could make his father's absence go away. The sting remained, even as he went about his new tasks. But it helped to know that Sparda would have wanted him to do this. It was his only comfort. And for but Yamato, it was all he had left to remember him.

And then, one day, their world had been turned upside down. He remembered it so well. It was forever etched in his memory, a scene that would play on just as vividly as when it had first taken place.

The flames jutted out of the windows, the heat shattering the glass even as it lay on the deck. The door was gone, in pieces on the floor as he entered. All about him, the house was set ablaze, bits and pieces of their lives and memories, of their very souls, were wasting away before him. Turning black, fading, dying, strewn ashes in the air.

Dante and his mother stood a distance away, and it was about them that the gruesome view was centered and shaped. His brother held his guns up, aimed right at his mother. He ran, stumbling over debris. He cried out. But he went unheard. The two shots rang out. And the world seemed to go crazily still until the body fell.

Vergil opened his eyes. He lay in bed, in the last room at the back corner of the upstairs of Devil May Cry. He had chosen it for his once, only informing Dante that he was retiring for the day. This he had more done to be alone than anything else. He needed time to think.

Gaining Devil Trigger was not far behind him, when he watched his mother's corpse fall to the floor of their burning home. The outrage and agony had been too much. Dante had ripped away the last life that had held them together as a family. He couldn't bear to call him 'brother' anymore. It came to him so easily.

He almost killed him. Just when he had Yamato's blade pressed to Dante's throat, ready to end his life, his brother shot him. His knees screamed out in pain, and he fell, unable to stand. He lashed out one last time as the power flowing through his body faded out like a candle in the wind. He reverted back to his human form, clothing torn, skin darkened from smoke and ash, dirty. Defeated. He couldn't even stand. Dante staggered backward, a hand covering the wound on his shoulder as he stood up over him. They stared at each other for a very long time, him with glaring, ice cold eyes, his twin with terrible, sad eyes. Whether it was the blood loss or the use of energy, Vergil fainted. He awoke the next morning, clear from the ruins of the house. Saved.

One year later, he had challenged Dante atop Temen-ni-gru. And not once, not even when they had fought together to part Arkham from the power of their father that he had stolen, not even after that had Vergil forgiven him for the death of his mother. Dante was forever marked, cursed to carry that unforgivable sin. There was no redemption.

Or was there?

The look in his brother's eye as he defended the devil, Trish…it troubled him. She had betrayed them all, clearly allying herself with the enemy. Whether she was under Deumos' control did not matter. She was an enemy. Enemies were destroyed.

Then why, why did Dante chose to save her?

Was it because she looked like their mother? Was Dante regretting the past? He barely seemed the type to be worn down by it. His brother lived his life from day to day. He did not give time to reflection to his actions, any of them. Or so he thought. And then, there was something Deumos had said. She said she had not seen Dante in thirty years. Which would mean that…

They met around the time of their mother's death. So that was the connection that Dante wished to show him. While the nature of their bond was elusive, he would have to wait until they confronted her again if he wished to learn more.

The other who made him question himself was, perhaps, the most unexpected from all. Vergil sighed to himself as he stared up at the ceiling. Despite himself, he found himself looking at the cane propped up against the nightstand beside his bed.

"What would you think of me now, Helena?" he asked aloud, to no one except it.

The human…..Lady is quite…unusual.

Devil Arm Information:

Name: Helena

Description: A thin blade bestowed with powers somewhat alike to those apparent in Yamato. Unlike Vergil's first sword, this one is neither as swift nor as powerful. However, this blade does allow him to use other abilities such as harnessing the power of the wind. Though because he will say nothing more about it, its true powers remain a mystery.