Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry.
This is the end of the Angel Trilogy and the last fanfic I will post until at least the end of November, as I am doing NaNoWriMo. Well, if things to well there might be one or two oneshots (I am amenable to bribery, by the way).
I was thinking about it, and I've decided there's a whole lot more I can do with this story. I was planning on ending it on a semi-cliffie like the other parts and just being evil and never continuing, but I think I may make this the Angel Series. What do you think?
Oh, and Heracles is the more correct spelling of Hercules. He was named after the goddess Hera in hopes she wouldn't kill him for being proof her husband had cheated on her. Again.
I'm very sorry this is so late.
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Heracles
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Vergil sat at the desk, waiting for Dante and Trish to get back. Things were heating up: he remembered Trish, who was still in-training, always going out with Dante. Now, they went out separately, so that someone would be here if another person called with an emergency.
Night had fallen two hours ago, just after Vergil woke up from his first sound sleep in ages. Here, where Dante was, was safe.
Well, if he wasn't safe here, he wasn't safe anywhere, but that way lay madness.
Mundus was still out there, and Dante and Trish had both left. Trish had gone out first, Dante staying with him. Vergil had been grateful: they'd done it that way before, Dante watching over him as much as possible, but… though he was still uncomfortable in his brother's presence.
He'd missed him.
Now Dante was gone. Vergil had overheard the conversation, and it sounded very bad.
Vergil watched the phone, ready to answer it if anyone called. Dante had told him they needed to keep Mundus guessing where he was, to keep that he was here a secret. No going out on missions, they'd smuggled him inside the building.
The phone rang, and Vergil answered.
It was a trap.
A mother, her children under attack, husband already killed… it was too much like that night. First Trish, then Dante… the only one left to answer was him.
The person he had been before the tower would have coldly calculated that this was an attempt to see if here was here, and if he was capture him and bring him back to Mundus. The person he had been when he worked with Arkham would have hung up the phone on the whimpers and not told Dante about the call.
But he wasn't that person anymore. That pride… Mundus had broken it. He was nothing, tainted, a failure, those humans were worth more than him.
No, Dante cared for him more than for some random humans, Dante had always been foolish and emotional. But Dante wouldn't want to trade human lives for their lives. Vergil would have spared him the choice.
But he didn't want to be the sort of person who could ignore people, just let them die because he was a selfish coward.
He'd wanted to be like Father once. Dante had told the truth when he said Vergil would never be like Father.
But… Vergil didn't want to disgrace his name anymore.
Foolish Dante, not sealing him in.
No, Vergil was always and ever the foolish one.
There were only two demons, ones that looked like Cyclops yeti, one horn and purple-furred. They were eating the corpse of the father in front of the door to the room he heard the family hiding in. Saving them for later.
One slice with Yamato was all it took: he displaced, giving them no warning. He displaced away again immediately, kept moving.
Nothing attacked.
He could feel minor demons in the air, and the spirits of the one he had just killed. They whispered his name.
So. Mundus would soon know he was here.
He went back to Devil May Cry. Dante would be anxious if he came back and found him gone. Though the real reason was that he was afraid now. More afraid.
They followed him, joined by others, until he reached the wards. None of them made bodies. It was obviously just to unnerve him at no risk to themselves, he didn't have any technique that would hurt the ones without bodies. They were no real threat.
He hid his shivers.
When Dante came back, Vergil thought, sitting on the desk so it was between him and the door, he would have to tell Dante what he had done. He had stupidly blown his cover even when Dante had told him not to. He should have… claimed one of Dante's devil arms and sent it? No, he had no right to them. Not even to Beowulf. Even Yamato was rightfully Dante's, and Yamato was sealed and couldn't take human form.
Still, there must have been some other option. He should have thought of it.
While the demons had finished their meal and ripped the mother away from her children. She was the next biggest.
He had disobeyed Dante. What if this was the final straw? Vergil had done so many horrible things, and if Dante couldn't trust him, would he throw him out? Kill him and take him as a devil arm?
It would be… nice to sleep like that. To help Dante, to not cause Dante pain, to not have to think about his guilt, to think at all. Peace.
But being a devil arm was an honor. Why would Dante ever use him? He had used him on Mallet, but that must have been the joy of rediscovery. Dante had been so happy to find him, even though Vergil had…
When Dante came back, Vergil took a deep breath and told him he had disobeyed, and Mundus knew now.
Dante had to pry the details out of Vergil, who hung his head.
Finally Dante smiled, shrugged it off. "They would have found out anyway. Don't worry about it."
Vergil dared glance up at him and saw happiness, approval.
Dante had no reason to approve of him. He hadn't done it because of… he didn't know why he had done it. While he traveled, he had avoided demons instead of killing them when he sensed him. Surely people were dead because of his inaction.
He'd killed people. He'd hurt Dante.
Making up for it was an impossible labor.
But… but he'd wanted to at least, at least try.
He smiled at the undeserved approval and Dante hugged him. He was stiff at first then relaxed into it.
He'd been hugged when they were children, and before he'd remembered. He wished he'd never remembered.
But… if he never had, then he would have always been a burden. He wanted to help Dante, do what he could to make up for everything. Even if it would never be enough, he would. He had to.