I don't really care about,
If you love me, if you hate me,
you can't save me.

*Avril Lavigne*

Our method of executing the plan was one I was not very keen on, but I kept that to myself and went with it. Vergil had tactfully found a rift in Metropolis for me to venture to. He accompanied me until we were outside the boundaries of the city, and turned to me with stony resolve.

"This is where we part ways," he stated.

"Can't I just go through the hellgate?" I asked, purposely avoiding his searching gaze by glaring off toward the country side in the far distance. If he expected this to be a warm goodbye, he was in for a reality check, though there was an ember of guilt that threatened to catch flame inside of me.

Don't give in to ill human sentiments, I thought fiercely. I wasn't going back on my word. I was going to help free Sparda. It was none of their business what other plans I had of my own.

"We've been over this-"

"I know, I know, it's supposed to look like I'm trying to sneak into Hell. I got it," I talked over him impatiently.

"If you stick to the plan, no harm will come to you," Vergil added almost chidingly.

"So you say," I grumbled, patting down the girdle locked around my waist. I had my orbs, I had plenty of Holy Water, a few spells I'd snuck from Kat's collection, and Blade had been helpful enough to lend me one of his twin set of daggers. I'd warned him not to expect it back, but teenagers are all the same: they think they know better. Oh, you'll be back. Well, no, I'm probably going to die, but hey, I guess your opinion matters, too.

"I'll be there with you every step of the way," Vergil was saying.

"All the way from the human realm through Kat's psychic form, yeah, I know." Not very comforting at all, and it only made things more complicated for me.

There was a storm whipping up clouds of dust on the horizon and the gales whipping around us carried sulphur with it. I knew behind that storm was a legion of demons out for my blood – all power hungry, insane, and each more motivated than the next to get to me first. I was trembling inside, every fibre of my being that had been burning to play the hero was now shaking in terror. I glanced briefly at Vergil when he took my hand in both of his, before returning my gaze to the approaching storm. For once, in a long time, I wasn't afraid of the demon hordes.

All my terror was directed at Sparda. The fear of the other demons paled pathetically in comparison.

"…my mother has always acted in the best interest of our family."

I didn't quite know what to say. If Vergil caught on that I wasn't 100% focussed on the mission at hand, he'd pull me out. "She hasn't changed a bit," I grasped at straws. "Well… maybe she's a bit more hard-ass than I remember."

"My point is that she would not have so readily agreed to get you involved if it posed too great a risk."

I let my breath out slowly and quietly. How ironic that he'd finally imply that I am part of his family when I'm about to go on a suicide mission. Ha. What a funny world.

"She wouldn't have agreed to it at all if she knew I'm the one who put Sparda there in the first place," I pointed out lamely, and sucked in a breath of air when Vergil started speaking again. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

"Remember, stick to the plan. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah," I muttered and turned toward the stairwell beside us that led down to the old abandoned subway. "See ya."

My footsteps echoed through the dark, lonely place as I descended to the platform below. I didn't have to look back to know that Vergil had already teleported and that I was well and truly on my own.

Stick to the plan. Things always seemed so simple when you put it down in bullet points.

The rift was easy to find. I pulled the hood of my coat over my head and tried to make myself look even smaller as I stepped into the rift. It was one I didn't frequent much because the place was always packed to the brim. It was no different this time. I made my way across the vinyl floor and past the large and intimidating bodies occupying the stools at the bar and the booths to my right before anyone could get a good look at me. In and out, discreet and silent, nothing but a shadow passing through.

I wasn't happy to be back in Hell. Considering my last encounter with its inhabitants less than a day ago, I had no misgivings that things were going to get tough, real fast. I entered the hellhole on a lower level – the level right above the one where Sparda was held prisoner, to be exact. Although Jason and Eva had gone over the safest and quickest route with me about fifty times, I knew the way by heart. Soon enough I was crossing the rocky terrace, keeping my hands jammed firmly into my pockets and righting myself whenever the ground beneath me breathed. I reached an archway that led to the deeper caves, and pulled my shoulders in even tighter as I made my way through. I got past the guards without a hitch – thanks to Imara and Eva's spells. I'd thought the guards would hear me, but they gave no sign that they had. I hoped Kat's spells were as strong and effective, I thought as I instinctively ran my hand across the small vales attached to my girdle.

Still, I breathed into their unexpected minds that they ought to leave and not return to this level until I said otherwise. A ghost of a whisper, and they did my bidding without question. So it wasn't part of Eva's plan, but it was definitely part of mine. Three less obstacles in my way.

What I hadn't been prepared for was making it all the way to Sparda. I'd thought Mundus would have apprehended me by now. That was the plan, after all, to catch his attention and divert it far away from Sparda once I'm taken captive; the perfect circumstance for Sparda and Eva's allies to free him, the perfect time for me to pull a fast one on everybody.

Maybe I was too discreet. Maybe I could still get Sparda out of here by myself. It would butcher the entire plan, but did that really matter if they still got what they were after?

I went down into one of the caves, my steps sure and light, and paused in front of the bulging matte wall at the bottom. I stared at it for a second, recalling how disgusted everyone had been when I revealed to them that Sparda wasn't just chained down in a cave in the bottom slums of hell. He was chained down in a cave inside of a bottom feeder. A lesser demon with no intellect, and no purpose other than being miserable and coating its cave with slime for all of its existence.

I reached out and touched the wall before me, flinching briefly at how cold and wet and soft it felt. The bottom feeder turned its boneless neck toward me. It bared its rows upon rows of teeth at me, like a silent rabid dog snarling savagely.

"Let me in."

The bottom jaw dropped to the ground so abruptly that there was no way I could have stopped the surprised shriek from my lips. I closed my eyes for a second, berating myself for being so jittery – where was Mundus anyway? – and then carefully made my way through the enormous, gaping maw. There was absolute blackness inside, yet I could make out the yellow and red muscles and veins of the walls. Phlegm hung from the ceiling like heavy spider webs and acidic fluid sizzled and sloshed around my booted ankles. I didn't have to walk too far inside.

Sparda was hanging limply by his outstretched arms, beneath the left rib rack of the demon. There were old cracks in the bone from which he hung, and the flesh of the demon had begun to attach itself to Sparda's limbs. I paused in front of him, having to look hard to see if he was still breathing. His eyes opened slowly when I leaned in closer, and the look in them fuelled the terror I was battling with. Red, glazed, and slightly mad.

We stood face to face for what felt like a long time. Finally, I managed to control the fear of both demon and human instincts tumbling inside of me, and took out the dagger from my belt. The chains that had once been there to tie him to the rib bone hung aside. Sparda's wrists had become so thin that they had probably slid very effortlessly from the enchanted chains. Unfortunately, by that time, the demon's flesh had already spread down the length of Sparda's forearms, it seemed, binding his body within its own.

I ignored the voice beseeching me to put him out of his misery as I brought the sharp blade up. It would be the humane thing to do. It would be a mercy. He's practically gone already, Cora. If he survived his escape, how long would he really live? And if he lives, what kind of life would he lead? He'd never be the same. What use would he be to mankind?

I grit my teeth and sliced unceremoniously at the flesh and skin just above where I thought his own arm ended and the bottom feeders' began. I flinched at the fountain of blood that came spurting down on both of us. After several more half-blind slashes, Sparda dropped to the ground with a painful thud. One of his wings was half torn apart, the other completely missing. One of his legs didn't look like it was even completely attached to his body anymore; it lay bent beneath him like a rotten, broken piece of meat.

He was in critical shape. He'd be worse in human form, but I needed him in human form if I was going to manage to get him out of here. His bulky, broken devil form would be far too heavy, as I discovered whilst dragging his unconscious body toward the mouth of the bottom feeder in a bid to save him from the burning liquids on the floor.

I had to hoist him over the rows of teeth and fell forward with the dead weight of him. Luckily we avoided getting impaled by said teeth, if only barely. I knelt up beside him and pulled the orbs from my girdle. Purple, blue, gold, green, white – I couldn't remember which would be most useful, but at the look of him, anything and everything was probably worth a shot. The colours blended one into the other as the orbs were absorbed by his body.

Fortunately, they got to work right away. I could see his flesh begin to heal, painfully slowly, but still far faster than any human could. I sat back and watched as he started to come to.

"What are you doing?" Vergil had demanded when I went rummaging through his laboratory at headquarters.
"Looking for these," I said, finding the orbs all placed safely in a secured glass cabinet.
"You'll have no need for any," Vergil countered with a frown. "I won't let any harm come to you."
"Then let me take them as a comfort rather than a necessity."

I couldn't not bring them, knowing what to expect, knowing in what shape Sparda had been the last I saw him. I couldn't tell Vergil, either. I'm sure they all had their own ideas of what condition Sparda would be in. None of them had seen how mutilated his human body had been when Mundus got hold of him in the human realm, though. Hopefully this would help to make it look less severe.

I took out the vales of potion and tipped the contents down my throat when Sparda opened his eyes, dazed and filled with a quiet suffering.

"You," his whispery voice cracked, turning his head toward me.

"Turn your devil trigger off," I said curtly.

"Why?"

The word hung between us painfully. I knew what he was really asking. Why did I turn on them; why was I helping him now, why did I let this happen at all.

I looked away. "Now, before it's too late."

When I looked back, he'd returned to his human form. If he looked any older than I recall, I couldn't tell beyond the welts and bruises and sagging skin. Despite the magic working in repairing his more fatal injuries, he was still in a precarious condition. His leg, for one, looked far more disturbing in human form than it had moments before. Strips of muscle and skin hung like streamers from his thigh, and the distinct scent of human decay made my eyes water. If there had been an infection, the magic would have cleared it up. It hadn't mended the injury itself. For another, he looked like a skeleton with a rag of skin pulled on.

At least he'd be a breeze to carry, I thought, and felt a tremor of revolt at the thought somewhere in the back of my mind. Not now, petty human feeling.

I threw him over my shoulder like the bag of bones he was and trudged over to the cave wall where Vergil had said the veil between the worlds were thinnest. Using the still-wet blood that had crashed over us before, I traced the symbol that would pierce the veil and open up a portal.