Chapter Twenty-Five - Will to Live

[XXV]

Dante wasn't sure why he bothered to take a shower before leaving for a potential demon fight, in which he'd only get dirty again, but he did anyway. Whatever the reason why, in the late afternoon he found himself standing under the warm stream of water, listening to it beat against the tub and letting it caress his skin. It was so relaxing that once he was actually clean, he just stood there for a while, half falling asleep. It was nice being in there, with nothing to keep you occupied except the rythmic tapping of the water, the white tiles on the walls, and the warmth all around. It was like a little sanctuary, secluded from the outside world.

Well, with the exception of the poster strategically placed on the inside of the bathroom door. A busty model in a bikini kept her seductive eyes on him the whole time. After awhile of relaxation, his hand drifted down and he let himself give in to her charms, as he often ended up doing. It didn't help that he had Lady on his mind, either. Now whenever he thought of her he also inevitably thought of that night, of her soft body and the way she had made him feel. He had been doing his best not to think of her the past few days, but it was hard, really damn hard. How was he supposed to forget a woman who had gotten such a strong reaction out of him? Not easily, that was for sure.

Although, he thought later as he was walking down the concrete sidewalk through the evening darkness, it became easier to avoid thinking about her when he thought of how frustrated she made him. Not that it was surprising. She had frustrated the crap out of him when they first met at Temen-ni-gru, and although she seemed to have matured somewhat since then, her stubbornness hadn't really changed. All the same, he couldn't bring himself to dislike her, or even really be angry with her for too long. He still enjoyed seeing her, as he had discovered last night. He had been a bit surprised when she'd called, but happily surprised. Things had felt rather cold and silent after she'd left, but as the days went on his anger had faded into more of a disappointment. When she had called, he hadn't found himself really feeling anything except looking forward to seeing her again.

Then actually seeing her, of course, only made those annoying feelings come back, annoying because they were powerful and he wasn't sure what they meant. All he knew was it wasn't just lust anymore. Whatever it was, it was similar to friendship (although that wasn't the exact word for it, either), so of course he had invited her to come back to his place. And of course she had said no. Because, after all, she was here on business. It wasn't like she came to see him. They were only interacting as business partners.

Pssh. Whatever. He'd get her to come around tonight. Maybe. At the least, he was looking forward to the possibility of kicking some demon ass with her; although it had been a long time, he remembered how much fun it had been the last time they fought together. In fact, maybe that was exactly what they needed; maybe after they dealt with whatever crap they'd find in that old building, maybe she'd be in a better mood, maybe she'd actually be open to the possibility of hanging out after...

He smirked to himself, removing his trusty guns from their holsters and twirling them around his fingers absentmindedly as the old building began coming into view. He was so distracted by thoughts of them fighting together it never crossed his mind that Lady could have started fighting without him, but as he drew closer to the warehouse, he realized she was nowhere in sight. And he definitely wasn't early or anything. As a matter of fact, he was probably late. He tended to be late to most things. He didn't mean to, it was just that he had always thought of meeting times as more like guidelines than things set in stone. He had figured Lady would wait for him, although in retrospect he wasn't sure why. But she had to be in there; she didn't strike him as the type that would show up late for anything.

Fine, he thought. Go ahead without me, try to take all the credit. But although he tried to keep his thoughts light-hearted, something strange was gripping at him as he drew closer to the door. The sense that something wasn't right. It was that annoying feeling he'd had for weeks now, the one that was driving him crazy. His eyes narrowed and he tried to listen intently, although he couldn't seem to hear anything.

Wait. He couldn't hear anything, not even footsteps. Either she was late and the building was empty, she was inside and standing perfectly still...or something was wrong.

He ripped open the front door and his breath caught in his throat.

Lady was kneeling on the ground, sweaty and pale, and there was a man standing near her, towering over her. His hand was raised in the air, his back to Dante. Her eyes were wide open and she looked terrified. Her body was trembling and her breath seemed to be coming in sharp gasps. Her weapons lay in a heap on the floor nearby.

All this he took in in less than a second, and he wasn't sure what was going on exactly, but in that second he registered two things - the man was a demon, and the fucker was hurting her somehow.

His arms were outstretched and he had fired a barrage of bullets into the man's back before the door behind him had even swung shut. He stopped firing as it clanged shut behind him, blocking out the light as the air filled with a sudden silence. He stopped to see what damage his bullets had done, although his arms remained stretched out in front of him, fingers waiting ready on the triggers.

The man hadn't flinched, his back now riddled with bullet holes. The fabric of his jean jacket was ripped, but Dante watched as the wounds healed themselves beneath. Okay, so guns wouldn't do a whole lotta good. Looks like this was gonna be a sword fight. Still, Dante remained frozen, waiting for his opponent to make the next move. His eyes drifted back to Lady, who was in the same condition. For the first time in a long time during a fight, he began to feel some anxiety creeping around the edges of his heart.

"Ah." A deep voice spoke. "What a pleasant surprise."

The man slowly turned around, and the smile on his face did look strangely pleasant, although sinister.

"Dante. The Dante. The son of Sparda himself. We meet at last."

He looked annoyingly calm and unimpressed for someone who had just met Sparda's son, Dante decided, but was distracted from his potential ego-stroking by a soft noise coming from Lady. Her eyes were closing now, and she was panting slightly, and then she fell forward to lay against the floor, apparently unconscious. He felt more anxiety twitch through him but didn't outwardly flinch.

"Oh, don't worry. She's fine. Just resting."

His eyes snapped back to the demon, who was staring him down unflinchingly. Dante got the unnerving feeling that his mind was being probed. Normally he could stare anyone down, but this guy was damn creepy. However, he still played it cool, lowering his guns at last and taking a few careful steps forward.

"So. You seem to know who I am. Can't say I've ever seen you before."

"We've never formally met, but I've been watching you for quite some time now."

Dante tried to ignore the slight sinking of his stomach at that eerie prospect. That would explain the bad feeling he'd been getting. He scoffed, and then grinned. "That so? Looks like I've got a stalker. Well, I hate to break it to you, but I only do chicks. Sorry, dude."

The man chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, you are just like he used to be. The resemblance is uncanny."

Dante halted. He didn't need to ask to know who the demon was referring to.

"Always running his mouth, full of all kinds of arrogant presumptions. Walked with the same sort of swagger, too."

Dante chuckled darkly, leaning his head to the side. He could already sense where this was going, and he decided he was done with formalities. "So you knew my old man, huh? Let me guess; you're here for revenge?" He stuck his guns back in their holsters and quickly unsheathed Rebellion, the sword shining in what little light there was as Dante lowered it to the ground. "Let's cut the small talk, shall we? You wanna fight me, right?" He leaned forward, getting into an attack stance. "Come on. Let's get this show on the road!"

The man didn't so much as move. "I'm afraid you have it wrong. I have no interest in fighting you, although if all goes according to plan, you will be dead before the night is over."

Dante laughed humorlessly. "You think you can kill me without a fight? For a stalker, you don't know me at all, buddy." And then he lunged, deciding he was already sick of this guy's cold grin. He charged forward, ready to impale him clean through the gut.

But he was fast. And he moved. Dante shot forward like a bullet, but instead of the satisfying collision of steel against flesh he was expecting, he found himself stabbing thin air. When his boots skidded to a halt, he heard a voice at his left.

"You're too eager, I'm afraid."

He swerved to the side to see the man standing there, calm, hands behind his back even. Damn he moves fast, Dante thought. He breathed heavily, but grinned. He welcomed the challenge - he hadn't gotten in a good fight in far too long. Instead of trying the sword again, he reached behind him, quick as lightning, and fired Ivory directly at the demon's face, knowing it wouldn't do much damage but hoping to stun him.

But he was gone, the bullet pinging uselessly against a pole as he moved rapidly to avoid the attack. Dante fired a stream of them after the demon's retreating form, so fast it was a blur, but then suddenly he realized the demon was heading towards the fallen form lying nearby on the gritty floor and ceased fire just in time. The man was still again, and there was a soft moaning noise as he lifted Lady from the ground and held her in front of himself. Her back was leaning against him for support, arms dangling lifelessly at her sides, and he held her up by a hand around her throat, pressing her head back into his chest. It lolled to the side. It all happened in a manner of seconds, and Dante's stomach plummeted slightly as he stopped firing just in time to avoid hitting her.

For just a second his eyes were wide with surprise, but this show of vulnerability was short-lived. Instead he felt a fiery sort of anger bubbling up from the pit of his chest, and he gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on Rebellion's hilt.

"I'll say it again; I do not plan on fighting you." The demon's knuckles whitened ever so slightly as his grip tightened just a bit on Lady's slender throat. Dante felt unease coating his insides. "I have a few things to say to you, Mr. Dante, so I suggest you loosen that grip on your father's sword."

Dante was breathing a bit heavily, eyes sharp with agitation, but he let out a breathy exhale of a laugh. "My sword. My father's dead." But he did lessen the grip, ever so slightly, as his eyes drifted down to Lady's unconscious form. Anger and unease simultaneously twisted inside of him. "What the hell are you doing with her?"

The demon looked down at the girl in his grip. "I could kill her quite easily, as I'm sure you could deduce. She is in a deep sleep, and crushing her windpipe would be simple enough." His hand squeezed tighter, and Dante instantly shot forward, his sword's tip now inches from the man's face. He gritted his teeth. The demon didn't flinch.

"But," he continued, and he loosened his grip, "I have no reason to do so. She is of no consequence to me. And I won't...provided that you put away that sword and behave like a civilized person."

Dante scoffed, a humorless grin appearing on his face. Ah, I see how it is. The demon was trying to manipulate him into doing whatever he wanted. Dante had had this tactic pulled on him before, but never with something so intensely personal at stake. He did lower his sword, but didn't sheath it.

"What do you want?" His voice was dangerous.

"Quite simply to speak with you."

Dante scoffed. "To speak with me."

"Yes."

Dante hesitated for a moment. Alright, I'll play your little game...for now. He didn't sheath his sword quite yet, however.

"Fine. But first." He motioned towards Lady's unconscious form with a nod of his head. "Wake her up."

"No. Our discourse is none of her concern."

Dante hesitated, trying to hide just how much he cared about what happened to her, although he had a feeling the demon already knew. "Fine. Put her down, then."

"Put away your sword."

Dante glared, about to make his demands again, but deciding it wasn't worth it. He didn't know if the demon would actually hurt Lady, but it wasn't something he felt he could risk. Putting his sword back in it's sheath was hardly a big deal, anyway, he could get it back in a split second.

So he sighed, twirling Ivory around his finger before putting it away like it was all some big game to him, and set his sword back in it's rightful place on his back.

"There. Ya happy now?"

"Very well."

He lowered Lady's limp form to the ground slowly, laying her down in a surprisingly gentle way. Dante looked at her lying there, dirty, on the ground, looked at her tousled hair and grime-covered blouse, and he felt angry. He felt like lifting her into his arms, giving her a much more suitable place to rest her head while he was playing the demon's little game. But he wasn't going to show weakness. So he let his eyes drift back to the tall man standing in front of him. His body was tense, unsure of what to expect, of what this whole thing was about.

"So just what the hell do you want?"

The man held his arms behind his back, standing upright with rigid posture. Now that they were in closer proximity, Dante eyed him more critically. He appeared to be a normal human man, from his brown boots to his sharp eyes, but he gave off the same feel all demons did, the one that let Dante know whenever one was lurking nearby in disguise. Dante wondered what his true form looked like.

"You said before that this was about revenge." The demon began. His voice was deep and smooth, but still sounded human. "But it isn't. Sparda betrayed me, it's true. He left me to rot in the deepest pits of hell, left me to watch my own race slowly fade into nothingness..." He frowned ever so slightly in anger as he spoke, his eyes distant with old memories, but he regained his calm exterior almost instantly. "But Sparda is gone now. It would be foolish of me to think I could enact revenge by harming his offspring."

Dante scoffed. "Yeah, could you tell that to the rest of the demon population? They all wanna do me in just because I have my old man's blood."

The demon ignored his comment. "However," he continued, and turned his head to face Dante, sharp eyes meeting, "I find myself fascinated by you, son of Sparda." He looked away again, and began walking forward slowly. "Half human, half demon. Drifting between both worlds, never quite fitting into either. You're one of a kind."

Two of a kind, Dante thought, thinking of his twin, but with the thought of his lost brother his heart lurched rather painfully and he didn't say anything.

"Well, not quite unique." The demon continued. "There was your elder sibling." Dante raised an eyebrow, again getting the eerie impression that this demon could read his thoughts. "But truth be told, your name is much more notorious in the Demon World, due to your making a profession of murdering our kind."

Dante continued to glare, and he noticed that the demon seemed to be somewhat amused now, as if he knew his words were grating on his nerves. "And you were much easier to hunt down. You generally stay in the same area here in this human realm; your brother, on the other hand - "

"Look, is there a point to this?" Dante interrupted. "I don't care if this is supposed to be about revenge or not, you lured me to this place for a reason. Let's skip the small talk, shall we?"

He once again drew his sword with a metallic clang. The man followed it with his eyes, but Dante spoke again before he could say a word.

"First," he pointed Rebellion towards Lady's form on the ground, "just what the hell did you do to her?"

The man smiled. "You seem quite defensive."

Dante skirted around the accusation. "I just want an idea of what I'm dealing with."

The man chuckled. "I'm afraid you're dealing with far more than you could imagine."

"You're not answering my question."

The demon's eyes drifted down to the sword held in Dante's hand, still but ready to spring into action at any moment. "You're not doing as I told you."

"Heh. That's not how I work, buddy." Dante smirked. "I don't take orders from anyone. And I didn't come here to chat, either."

So he lunged again. He knew the first swing might be futile, considering how fast this guy was, but goddamnit if he couldn't get him eventually. He'd dealt with fast demons before. He'd dealt with demons who could transport themselves around rooms before. His adrenaline with pumping, his anger was mounting, and he was ready for a nice, hard fight. It had been far too long since he'd met a challenging demon, anyway. So bring it on.

Or at least, that's what had rushed through his mind in the seconds before he began to charge. What he hadn't anticipated was to be overcome by a sudden sensation of light-headedness, of dizziness. What started out as a mere floating sensation progressed to a near blackout within seconds. Suddenly his sword had clanged to the floor, he had thudded to his knees, and he wasn't aware of any of it because he was completely disconnected from the real world.

He had no idea what had hit him. He had no idea where he was, or what was happening. All he knew was paralysis and dark. It was as if his consciousness had been ripped from his body and left to float in an endless abyss, devoid of noise, feeling, and sight. He couldn't even think coherently. But he did manage to feel two things - confusion and dread.

[XXV]

The demon stood above Sparda's son, hardly able to believe his luck. Had he really gone down so easily? He felt a thrill at the sight of it. The boy was kneeling, one hand pressed into the ground for support, the other hovering over his fallen sword. His eyes were half-closed, dazed. An empty stare. Mouth slightly open, no noise coming out. He had seen the look on the countless thousands of faces of those he had put into trances before, but this one was special. It was different. He wanted to savor it.

He could feel Dante's essence begin to overtake him. He was pleased to discover that there was fear edging the devil hunter's heart, although utter confusion was the overwhelming taste. He was holding him in a state of limbo at the moment, as he was with the girl, who was still sleeping soundly on the floor. This, he figured, had been the safest choice. With the human devil hunter, he wasn't nearly as worried - he had only cast her into a light trance, just enough to overwhelm her, make her lose touch with reality but without making her lose consciousness...that is, until Dante had arrived, in which case he did so simply to keep her out of the way.

He knew the half-breed would show up - it was why he had lured Lady back to his city.

He was genuinely interested in feeding from the female devil hunter, but even more interesting to him had been the strong feeling he had sensed around Dante's building when he had first seen her there. Dante cared for her deeply, even more deeply than he consciously realized. This was something he could use to his advantage, to make the skillful hunter more compliant to his will. It was the key he had been searching for. The opportunity had been too perfect. He knew if he lured her back to Dante's city with a shady proposition, she was bound to get him involved, and she hadn't disappointed him. It presented him with the opportunity to feed from her, but also to use her to accomplish his ultimate goal - feeding from, and destroying, Sparda's son.

Dante's reputation was so notorious he had almost been fearful the trance wasn't going to hold him, or at least not sufficiently, but the young boy had been completely caught off guard. And that was exactly what he looked like now - a young, defenseless human boy. The demon smiled, letting his eyes roam over Dante's fallen form, face twisted in confusion, heart pumping steadily, savoring the sight before he finally let his eyes close and began to search through his memories.

It was easier with Dante - he knew exactly what he was aiming for. He hadn't known any of the girl's history prior to probing her mind, but Dante's history was much more famous. Every demon in the depths of Hell had heard of the night when demons sent by Mundus had murdered Sparda's human bride...about eleven years ago it had been now. It had been a time of much rejoicing, a much-needed victory. The demons were supposed to kill Sparda's children as well, but clearly they had survived, and he knew that surely the death of Dante's mother must have been the worst thing to happen in his short life thus far. He felt a thrill rush through him at the mere thought.

Arm outstretched, he let himself sink into Dante's mind, his heart, his consciousness. He let his confusion and growing dread serve as an appetizer as he shifted through his childhood memories, searching for that night.

An inevitable effect of probing someone's mind was that they, too, would see the memories. This was a beneficial effect, as being forced to relive their darkest moments caused them anguish, and he was able to feed on the despair both from the past and the present. As he scanned through childhood memories - watching the young white-haired twins playing, sparring, fighting, watching the beautiful Eva with her sons - he felt a sudden jolt of alarm course through Dante's body. The dread grew slightly more intense. The demon felt the corners of his mouth curve up. Oh, how he wanted to watch as Dante was forced to relive the worst night of his life. It was harder to concentrate with his eyes open - it sometimes caused him to lose focus - but it was something he had to try.

He found the night he was looking for soon enough, and he didn't rush through it, letting it play out at its natural pace. He felt more and more tension filling the air, and sure enough the despair, the fear and anxiety, present in the memory and in reality. Dante began to moan and choke. He breathed deeply, feeding slowly, savoring the taste. He watched as the blonde woman ran, screamed, as her frail human form was torn apart, watched the small, thin boy hiding in the wall, trembling like a leaf with wide blue eyes. He heard the demonic growling from that night long past, and he heard the gasping and choking in the present as he stole the boy's life force. The demon had a content smile on his face. It was an incredibly, beautifully satisfying sound.

After a moment, he couldn't resist any longer, and he opened his eyes slowly, still keeping his hold on him. Dante was even more slouched over now, as if something was painfully stabbing him in the gut. He was trembling, eyes wide but staring unseeing at the ground, mouth open and struggling to suck in air. Ivory locks fell over his eyes, but some were matted to his brow.

Dante, Sparda's infamous son, was completely at his mercy. It would be so easy to kill him now. All he had to do was continue feeding until he was nothing more than a cold, lifeless body on the ground. His mission would be complete. He would be a celebrated hero back in the Demon World.

But this was too big an event, too big a moment, to end so soon. He had other plans for the devil hunter. He would kill him soon, yes, but not before getting as much out of the opportunity as he could. He wanted to remember this night forever.

With his eyes open and his thoughts distracted, he began losing his grip a little. Slowly, Dante's consciousness began rising back towards the surface, back to where he would regain control over himself and be able to fight. But he wasn't worried. Instead of tightening his hold, he let it go, letting him come back to the present. This was exactly what he wanted. He looked down at the other fallen form nearby, the girl lying almost peacefully on the floor.

He smiled.

Time to make you even more useful.

[XXV]

The real world came back slowly. It took Dante a good minute to realize where he was. He felt smothered; he was having a hard time breathing. His body was trembling violently. But these things were secondary to the horror he felt, to what he had just witnessed. It took him a moment to realize he was no longer a little boy, roaming through his destroyed old house, looking for any remains of his family. As his sight came back, he remembered the warehouse, and Lady, and the demon, and realized he was crouching, sweaty, on the floor. Only one coherent thought managed to make its way through his brain.

What...the...hell?

God, the images and sounds were still fresh in his mind. It was like he had been there all over again. He felt weakened, sick to his stomach, sad, angry, and confused.

Then he heard the footsteps of sturdy brown boots. He looked up, and simmering anger replaced everything else.

"You..." Dante managed to growl between breaths.

Clearly, the asshole had done something to him. But what exactly had happened? Nothing Dante had ever experienced before, that much was certain. He wasn't sure he had ever felt so defeated. This attack wasn't just physical; it was personal.

"I must admit, I am a bit disappointed." The man stopped walking and looked down at him, a short distance away. Dante struggled to stand, to get a good grip on his sword. "I had expected more of an effort out of you. Though young, your skills are fast becoming legendary." He sighed, though his satisfaction was apparent. "No matter. You taste delicious."

Taste? Suddenly, it dawned on Dante what was going on. This was one of those demons he had only heard about in legends, never actually encountered for himself. A soul-feeder. One who fed not on flesh, but on feelings, memories, the very essence of a person's being. Especially satisfying to them was misery and despair. Suddenly it all made sense. He felt a bit stunned at the thought, but the demon had just been snacking on his soul. God, why hadn't he ever prepared for something like this? The thought had never even crossed his mind. He had never so much as heard of anyone dealing with a problem like that...he had thought the entire race had gone extinct after being trapped away from the Human World for so long...

Dante looked back up at the demon's smirking face with renewed hatred, still feeling too weak to come to a complete stand. That goddamn fucking asshole. How dare he violate his mind in that way...

He only seemed more pleased at Dante's silent anger, and his voice was calm when he spoke.

"However...to merely kill you so easily...it would be most unsatisfying. There is still one last thing I'd like to do."

He halted, and Dante suddenly realized with a jolt that he had stopped right by Lady's form. Lady. He had almost forgotten about her. She was still lying on the ground, eyes closed, chest rising and falling at a steady pace, white blouse bright against the dark, grime-covered floor.

"What..." Dante managed to growl. His breath was beginning to return to normal. "What the hell are you doing?"

"A pity..." The demon reached down and pulled Lady upright, her back leaning against his chest for support. He was holding her, once again, with a hand grasping her neck. Her head lolled backwards, arms limp. The demon looked down at her. "She was very interesting. I had hoped to get more out of her, but alas, you arrived sooner than I expected."

Dante finally managed to slowly get to his feet, propelled by a sudden onslaught of queasy anxiety and bubbling anger. This asshole was going to hurt Lady. Not if I have something to say about it...

He brought his eyes up to meet Dante's, and smiled.

"You have a very troubled past, son of Sparda. You taste most satisfying."

Dante breathed heavily, his heart thudding, his eyes a piercing glare.

"But as delicious as past anguish can be, it is nowhere near as satisfying as the pain of the present."

With that, there was suddenly a tearing noise. The demon's human disguise was finally ripping away. Skin began to get replaced by scales, clawed feet tore apart the brown boots, and long, spear-like claws burst out of formerly-human arms. Dante began forward before the disguise was even all the way gone, still stumbling but ready to charge. The demon began to change in about a split second, and one split second later he had lifted the arm that wasn't supporting Lady, raised it into the air, and thrust forward to imbed his spear-like claw cleanly into her abdomen.

Time stopped.

Or at least, it seemed to freeze and then move in slow motion. Dante stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes widened, his mouth open in shock. He felt burning horror in his gut, as if he were the one who had been stabbed. Lady's body jerked into action, as if she were a marrionette and her puppeteer had finally decided to pull on her strings. Her arms sprang up, eyes opened, mouth gaping in wordless horror, breathing raggedly. She bent forward, cringing in pain and still managing to look stunned. Her eyes were unseeing. She was still trapped in the void. She couldn't see Dante's face, which bore the same horrified expression. Only one coherent thought made its way through his mind.

No.

Even she couldn't survive being stabbed in the gut. She was only human. He was going to lose her, just like he'd lost everyone else.

No...

Fear, anxiety and horror were replaced by a sudden, unquenchable rage. He felt hot blood pulsing in his veins, the way it always did right before going into Devil Trigger. Suddenly his fatigue was gone as he felt energy pulse through him. He stayed in human form, but he lunged with incredible force, and his cry sounded unearthly.

"HYEAAH!"

The demon moved fast, the rest of his human disguise falling away. He was so fast Dante only managed to knick his shoulder in his retreat, but he was forced to drop Lady. At least he hadn't been able to impale her all the way through, but who knew if it would matter? Dante's rage clouded his vision.

The demon was a distance away now. Lady lay fallen on the floor, but he didn't have time, he had to take out this abomination first. He could see the beast more clearly now. He had many eyes, sharp and red, and black, scaly skin. He was tall, and had those intimidating, spear-like hands, but beyond that he wasn't an enormous creature. It wasn't his physical appearance that mattered - it was his ability.

But Dante didn't care. His anger had reached the boiling point, and he was conscious of the blood pulsing through his veins. He felt as though he was going to Devil Trigger any moment, but before he could do so, he charged once again for the creature, whose shoulder had already healed from its brief meeting with Rebellion.

His anger propelled him forward. He ran, he charged...and he froze.

It was happening again. The demon had lifted his arm and suddenly his head began to feel fuzzy. The world disappeared. Everything was replaced by dark -

No.

He felt himself disconnecting from reality, but Lady, Lady was on the floor dying -

No...

- she was dying and if he lost himself she'd die, and he'd be killed as well, and he couldnt't, he WOULDN'T let her go -

NO!

- he wouldn't -

I won't let you hurt her.

His blood burned. He couldn't feel his limbs but he could feel his blood burning, and suddenly it happened. With an unearthly howl, in a burst of rage, indignation, and defiance, he Devil Triggered, his anger forcing his true form to the surface. And suddenly he could see again, he could feel again, he was in control of himself.

His true form broke the fog. It wasn't strong enough to hold him at his most powerful.

As always when he was in his devil form, everything was sharper, magnified times one hundred, yet at the same time, it all seemed to pass by in a blur due to the speed at which he was moving. He had charged again, this time like a speeding bullet, and the feel of scaly flesh under his claws, the smell of demonic blood, and the low cries of pain that reached his ears informed him he had finally gotten a good attack on his target. His rage drove him, leading him to claw at his victim with animalistic force instead of doing the more sensible thing and using Rebellion. However, his attacks still dealt powerful damage. He was tearing the bastard to shreds.

But then suddenly he was gone. He had disappeared from beneath him. Dante fell forward slightly into the open air, claws dripping with blood, and suddenly there was a powerful blow to the side of his head.

He fell to the side, head thudding against the floor. Suddenly he was back to human Dante, the blow surprising him into losing focus. His skull throbbed, and then he cried out as he felt incredibly sharp pain tearing through his abdomen. The bastard was above him, pinning him like a trapped butterfly with one of those spear-like claws.

Dante had lost track of how many times he'd been impaled in his life by now, but even though it didn't ultimately do him much damage, it still fucking hurt. He growled, realizing he was effectively trapped on the floor with the spear violating his insides. He felt the familiar, coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.

"Too hasty."

The voice above him was now nothing more than a demonic growl, sounding almost nothing like the smooth voice that belonged to the human disguise. Coughing slightly at the feel of blood in his throat, Dante looked up at his attacker, and was encouraged at the sight of what his claws had done. The demon was already healing, of course, but patches of flesh were torn away, and dark blood was splashed across the scales.

"You let emotion control you, son of Sparda. And that is where you fail."

He grimaced in pain, squirming against the floor, but then he shook his head.

"No." His voice was slightly strained, but determined.

"No?"

"No," he repeated. Emotion would be his saving grace. Emotion was what had separated Sparda from the other demons and turned him into the great warrior that he was. Emotion was what led Dante to ignore the blood in his throat and the searing pain, and think only of Lady, who was in pain she couldn't recover from. He looked up at the demon, a sick sort of smirk spreading across his face.

"Demons like you...have no emotions." He breathed out. "You don't understand them...so you underestimate their power."

"Don't understand them? Ha!" The demon thrust the spear harder, momentarily wiping the smirk off Dante's face as he grimaced in pain. "I have spent my life feeding on human emotions! I understand better than an inferior being like you ever shall."

Ignoring the indignation at being called an "inferior being", Dante shook his head again, coughing. "Observing..." he breathed out, his voice slightly strained. "...isn't the same as feeling."

There was a moment of silence that passed between the two of them in which they only stared at each other. Dante looked up at the demon's many beady eyes, solid red, blank yet somehow sharp. He could feel his blood flowing and readied himself. Normally he would have fought back sooner, but he had a feeling this was it, there would be no more words exchanged after this, and he wanted to drive his point home before this ended.

"You'll never know what it's like to care about someone else. You may have seen it," he coughed again. "But you don't know. You had no clue what you were getting yourself into."

The demon seemed to sense a retaliation was imminent, because Dante began to feel a bit light headed, and he knew it wasn't due to the pool of blood steadily forming beneath him. But he ignored it, shouldering the sensation aside and finally, slowly, beginning to rise. He was still in human form, but his tension was building, and even being close to bursting into his true form gave him more strength. His muscles trembled slightly against the strain, both of physically standing while the demon attempted to pin him, and the mental strain of holding off the fog. But the demon was distracted, trying to do two things at once, and Dante knew he was making progress when the demon drove his other arm into him with such force that he thudded against the floor, once again pinned, this time with two spears. He grimaced against the pain, but his blood only pounded more determinedly. He could taste the crimson substance trickling out of the corner of his mouth, and his vision swam, but he looked straight up at the snarling face.

"And that..." he finished finally, "is where you fail."

In a burst of light, he shot forward, a red and silver blur as he finally used his sword. His strength and the surprise of his sudden transformation allowed him to overpower the demon. Now the roles were reversed, Dante pinning the demon to the floor with Rebellion. Finally free of the demon's claws, his flesh already began to rapidly heal, sped up by his demonic form.

Everything was a blur again as the fight ensued. The demon wasn't going to give up so easily. But fortunately, his most powerful attack was his attack on the mind, and in devil form, Dante was strong enough to break free of the fog. Other than his speed, his physical attacks weren't well beyond average, and in devil form, Dante was just as fast. He stabbed, he clawed, he charged forward, sometimes he felt pain and sometimes he heard his opponent crying out in pain, and it all seemed to be happening at accelerated speed. Although during the fight everything seemed crystal clear, afterwards it would be nothing more than a blur in Dante's memory. There was no real strategy - he was powered by rage, by defiance, and by fear, fear that he was going to lose her before they even had a chance to start anything, lose the last person he had left...

It took energy out of him to stay in his true form, so even passion could only drive him so long. Eventually he flicked back to human, and everything seemed to settle back down. His body was sore. He was covered in sweat, breathing heavily. Rebellion was still grasped firmly in his hand, and the blade was coated in demonic blood. After a few heavy breaths, Dante suddenly realized he wasn't being attacked. He looked around, unsure as to what exactly had happened.

The floor, the shelves, were splattered with blood, undoubtedly from both him and his opponent. For a moment he was a bit amazed at the amount of blood, not quite realizing the extent to which things had gone while he was devil triggered. He searched the ground, and suddenly his eyes fell on the body.

The demon appeared to be a crumpled heap on the floor. Dante took a few tentative steps forward, feeling a bit dazed. Was he really dead already? Was it over so soon? Or it seemed soon...how long had it really been?

How long had Lady been bleeding to death on the floor?

That thought seemed to momentarily replace his veins with ice, and he wheeled around, searching for her body. He spotted it a little ways away. He felt his heart sink. She was still lying on the ground. Part of him had hoped she'd recovered enough to get up, start patching herself up, but she was still lying there, and what was more, her white shirt was soaked red. She was lying in a puddle of her own blood. He felt his throat constricting at the sight and a sudden panic overtook him. He began towards her.

No. I can still save her. There's still time -

"It's...too...late."

He halted. A very raspy and weak voice issued from behind him. He wheeled around. The bastard was still a crumpled heap on the ground, clearly close to the end, but still alive. They met eyes once again, Dante's face locked in a snarl.

"You will not save her, son of Sparda."

Dante shot forward, and a second later, he had crossed the gap between him and the body and planted Rebellion firmly through where he imagined the beast's heart would be. He howled in pain, then snarled defiantly, fighting against the blade, but Dante's grip remained firm, hate in his eyes. It was only a moment before his struggles ceased, and after removing his sword from the twitching body, it finally began dissolving slowly into the ground.

Dante felt a bit light headed, watching the corpse fade away. Was it really over? It had all seemed to happen so fast -

Lady.

Quickly sheathing his sword, he ran and fell to his knees by the slim body, his panic returning. He could feel her warm blood soaking his knees even through the red leather of his pants.

She was still. Her eyes were closed. Sweat still matted her hair to her brow. Her white blouse was torn where she had been stabbed, and the front was soaked red. From what he could see, the wound was nasty. God, there was so much fucking blood. In the first few seconds as his eyes roamed her, he had a horrifying moment of thinking he had truly lost her, that he was too late. Pure terror gripped him in a way it hadn't in a very long time.

But then he realized she was still breathing.

There was still time.

His mind raced through all the various medical information he had absorbed over the course of his life. He had never retained much of it, seeing as it was useless to him, but he remembered the very basics. Major blood loss equaled bad. He had to find something to use as a tourniquet. His mind flashed back to that time at the tower, what felt like so long ago now, when she had ripped gauze from one of her skirt pockets and used it stop the blood flowing from her wounded thigh. With hands that weren't quite steady, he snapped open a few of the pockets on her skirt, searching the area he seemed to remember her medical supplies being in.

He found it quickly, a large wad of the soft white material stuffed into one of the smaller pockets. He ripped it out, unrolling it and pressing it tightly against the wound on her abdomen. He felt the warm blood soaking through, getting on his fingers and gloves. He looked over at her face, his heart thudding audibly. She just looked so...lifeless. Just stopping the blood flow clearly wouldn't be enough this time. She needed professional help, and now. He mentally mapped the directions to the nearest hospital. It wasn't too far away, but still, he wasn't sure if there'd be enough time. Calling an ambulance would take too long, and so would carrying her himself.

Unless...

A plan formulated in his head, and he knew what he had to do. Rolling out more of the gauze, he wrapped it as best as he could around her slim waist, lifting her body slightly with one hand and wrapping with the other before tying it off when it had almost run out. He tied it as tight as he could, and waited a moment to see if it would hold. Blood began to soak through instantly, but it didn't seem to reach the surface. There wasn't much gauze left, anyway, so it would have to do for now. Too much damn time had passed already, he had to go now. Her breathing had gotten more shallow, and he couldn't lose her. It simply wasn't an option.

Lifting her light form into his arms, he made his way quickly towards the entrance of the warehouse. She felt limp in his arms, one of which was under her knees and the other behind her back, her head falling lifelessly against his chest where his heart was pounding. He kicked open the door and rushed out into the fresh air of the night. He ran towards the road, looking in the direction he knew he needed to go.

Just running in his normal form would never be fast enough. Calling an ambulance would take forever, especially since there didn't appear to be a phone nearby. And running in devil trigger wasn't an option - what if someone saw him? What if he crashed into someone in his hurry?

The best option was to simply go above it all.

Propelled by his anxiety over the situation, he concentrated, building up his energy until he felt his blood boiling, and then he burst into his true form, never letting her go. He ran through the long grass until he was back out into the street, looking towards the sky.

He gave his wings a few experimental flutters. He had never really used them much before, only on a few occasions, and even then he hadn't done anything more than hover a few feet above the ground. He wasn't really a demon that was meant to fly, and he wasn't sure if he was really up to the task of what he was about to do.

But he had no choice, damnit. And he would do whatever it took.

He ran forward so fast he was a blur, flapping his wings slowly before finally taking off. The first few feet were easy, but he felt himself straining a bit as he flew higher and higher. However, he managed to reach his goal with rather surprising speed, and soon he was high above the ground, level with the roofs of buildings. Holding Lady tightly in his arms, he sped forward, flying as fast as his wings would allow him.

He had difficulty staying in his devil form too long, due to how much energy it required. Flying made it even more difficult, especially since it was something he wasn't as used to, not to mention the fact that he was carrying another person. A part of him feared he would suddenly go back to being human while he was still so high above the ground. But he didn't have time to think of that. His panic drove him onward, flying like lightning across the sky.

He had no other choice.

[XXV]

Everything was darkness and pain. Consciousness was like a boat on an unsteady sea, seeming to rock slowly in and out. Sometimes everything was blank, and then suddenly she'd begin feeling sharp pain and drift towards the surface, but then she'd fade back down, until the pain woke her again. It was a disorienting dream world, one in which she remained oblivious to all except the pain and the sense that something was wrong, the desperation to do something, but the inability to even fully rouse into consciousness.

Despite being trapped in this painful state of limbo, she noticed the subtle changes around her body when they began happening. The air felt stuffy and the ground felt firm every time she half-woke, and the few times she had briefly opened her eyes, she had found herself staring up at industrial shelves and a ceiling. She went deep under for a while again, and the next time she began floating towards the surface, something in her brain registered that the air had changed. It was much cooler, and blowing slightly against her face. And the surface she was on...it felt different. Less like a flat surface, and more like something was holding her.

She floated slowly, almost gently despite the searing pain, towards consciousness, becoming more and more alert. She realized the whispering noise in her ears was air wooshing by. She could faintly make out a muffled noise in the distance, one that sounded like cars driving by. It took a moment for her brain to process her apparent new surroundings, and a moment later, her eyes fluttered slightly open.

The ceiling was gone. What she saw now was the night sky. And it was moving. She felt groggy and confused. She blinked her eyes again, and when she opened them a little wider, she saw the face of the one holding her.

Terror shot through her weak body, cold as ice. A hideous, demonic face was above her. A demon was holding her. Holding her while she was in pain, defenseless. He was probably the reason she was in pain to begin with. The demon had her and was hurting her and there was nothing she could do. She was trapped in his grasp.

For a few seconds, her eyes were wide, staring up at the face that was looking straight ahead, scaly and emotionless. Then her terror become more and more fuzzy and finally disappeared as darkness overtook her once again.