I been running since the day I was born

I'm the definition of warn

shed a tear for each soul set free

but that's what happens when you dance with me

pity the man that stands in my way

I'm a nightmare even in the day

I'd be wise with which words you say

'cause they could be the last breath you take

Go ahead, baby-doll me

Well I ain't nobody's baby

baby, I'm an outlaw

Call me a criminal maybe

Baby I'm an outlaw

You know I ain't evil but I ain't a saint

Can't help it, I was born this way

-baby Outlaw, Elle King.

Lauren

I force myself into a saunter. My stomach is rumbling from hunger and my skin is crawling from that fey bitch. She had so much tightly packed magik about her person. Clearly, she thought I was much more of a threat than I did. I don't even remember killing her brother. That thought stops me in my tracks. Granted I don't really remember half of the time I spent in the fey courts. I was high-on magik-a lot of the time. I know I had done some pretty awful things, but mainly, they were done because I had been ordered to do them.

Blinking, I glance over my shoulder. The fey are leaving the hanger. Next to the fey woman I see her brother. Dusky skin and vibrant blue hair twisted with thorns. There's a gash along his neck. He looks at me, eyes solemn before he follows his sister out. Watching him walk, the memory fires off. Gerrik. His name had been Gerrik. He had bested the princess's best musician. He had been talented. My fey mistress had demanded I mangle his hands before killing him for the offense. Fuck, that had been bad business. The whole thing had been senseless, but the fey are head screwed. They're all half nuts like that.

"How many of them did you kill?" His voice slides into my ear with an air of appreciation. I turn my gaze onto Vergil, who's half leaning over my shoulder.

"How many have you killed?" I ask back. I wait but Vergil only chuckles as he studies me. He turns his attention to the retreating fey.

"You're not asking the right questions Lauren," he says casually. My nerves are pinched and as usual, Vergil just wants to titty twist them even more. What is it with him and pushing things to the breaking point?

"Were you one of those kids who melted their plastic army men with a magnifying glass?" I ask him abruptly.

"No," Vergil said briefly. "Exactly how messy were you?" he demanded, undeterred and still smirking, "That you earned a grudge like that?"

"When you fucked up my life did you care how messy you were?" There's a hard edge to my voice. I'm not as amused as Vergil is. Ignoring him, and the answer I know will never come, I stalk towards the cafeteria.

"There you are Lauren." I stop again, turning to face Vergil. Riddles and ramblings. First Raziel and Loki, now Vergil.

"Excuse me?"

"Before you at least had the decency to pretend you were still a good human," Vergil steps up to me. "I see you've finally dropped that pretense." I want to say something witty and biting, but honestly, Vergil never pretended to be a good guy. He never had a family whose opinion he wanted to keep. Which is fucked because at least Dante is biologically his brother. I never had any biological relations and yet I tried. I tried so hard to be good for them. I study Vergil for a second before dismissing the thought.

"Ok, not toy soldiers, then," I pause. "You liked broken things. Old machines. Maybe or… um... anything you could take apart." I guess as I offer Vergil a smile. 'Liked'. Right. Not much has changed I guess. "Am I right?"

"Are you?" Vergil retorts. I shrug.

"What you get for nothing is nothing. You're the one who thinks everything has a price."

"Most things do have value," he allowed, that smirk still on his mouth. "I have answered one of your questions," He reminds me. Fair point.

"I was high as fuck when I killed her brother," I say flatly. "Am I right about the broken machines?" Vergil raises an eyebrow at that.

"You've killed people without bothering to remember them?" I sigh and turn away again. My stomach hurts. Vergil falls into step next to me.

"Hey brokeback, get off your high horse. Don't even pretend like you remember half the demons you've killed."

"Perhaps. Demons are not people though." I shoot him a look.

"Neither are the fucking fey," I say shaking my head. At that Vergil quietly chuckles. The cafeteria greets us. A wall of noise roars from the crowd gathered as breakfast is rationed out. Carefully I step in line and Vergil follows me.

"You've ruined your innocent image," He says. At that I turn to him.

"Are you serious?" I pause, realizing that for all intents and purposes, Vergil is baiting me. He's wearing a shit eating smirk. I scowl at him. "Do you even know what brokeback is from?" I demand, narrowing my eyes at him. Vergil tilts his head to the side, silent but still smirking. Yeah that's right cowboy, yuk it up. At least some of us have the time to watch movies and have a life.

"I'm not telling you," I add, annoyed. At that Vergil chuckles. I'm silent for a moment before another thought occurs. "What happened to your horse?"

"Demon," Vergil replies flatly.

"Whatever," I roll my eyes. "What happened to it?" The smirk fades a moment and Vergil's face goes blank.

"It died," he replied shortly.

"What?" I demand. "How?" For some reason the fact that Vergil had frickin hell horse-excuse me 'demon'-is just….I can't wrap my head around it. The fact that his hell horse is dead is kinda sad...but obviously it must have been dead. I've never once laid eyes on it. I guess some part of me was hoping Vergil had, I dunno, set it free after a term of service or something.

"That upsets you?" Vergil raises an eyebrow. "Not the dead fey you can hardly remember, but the fact that my demon steed is dead."

"Not upset, just surprised," I say slowly. "How did it die?"

"Dante ended Greyon," Vergil replied. I go quiet, absorbing that. Dante killed Vergil's horse demon thing? I guess he is a demon hunter, so it would make sense. Plus Dante and Vergil don't really get along. Not really.

"How many of them did you kill?" Vergil draws me out of my thoughts. We have been following the line breakfast line. I spoonful of oatmeal lands on my tray, waving off the next spoonful, Vergil looks at me, a calculating look in his eye.

"What are you really asking?" I demand, holding my tray. "You should just say what's on your mind," I add, "Because us talking in circles around each other is getting old." Turning away I weave through people until I find an empty table to sit at. Vergil sits across from me, his hand on the table top. I pick up my spork thankful there are no forks around.

"Why do the fey want you dead Lauren?" Vergil asks after a long moment. For a moment I stare at him, struck by deja vu. Has he asked me that question before? I scratch at the scar at my temple before turning my attention to the oatmeal. It's mushy, lumpy and formless in my mouth. I force it down the hatch, considering my next words.

Angels are meant to serve, Raziel reminds me. He's somehow sitting next to me. He has both his elbows on the table, his hands pressed against his chin as he studies Vergil with will o wisp eyes. There's a gaping chest wound marring his clothing. Divinity is bound to the hands of god, he adds. It's a warning. Talking about this is a no no. Or at least talking about it directly is. I wonder why that is…. As if reading my mind Raziel, turns those ethereal eye sockets my way. As the hands of god, we may not disobey god's will without consequence. I pause, staring at Raziel. So ASH would know...if i broke silence...or something like it? I sigh. Okay then.

"Why did you kill me 10 years ago?" I ask Vergil quietly. I already know why, just as I know Vergil can't really say anything specific. He can talk in circles around it, but I will never hear the exact reason fall from his lips. I look up from my oatmeal. The dead are milling around us. One of them wanders past Vergil, spilling pussy black fluid on the ground from a gaping stomach wound. I look at my oatmeal, my stomach rolling. This doesn't look that great any more. Vergil studies me, silent now. I force myself to shove the oatmeal down the hatch in two large spoonfuls. I feel like I'm going to puke.

"I thought we were done talking in circles," Vergil says softly. I shrug.

"You're the one who puts prices on everything," I remind him again, around a mouthful of food. It might be unfair, but if Vergil can't answer the question I have one hell'uva way to cock block him from any information if I want to. Something I think he knows.

"I can pull out a cigarette and attempt to light it for old time's sake," I say, pushing my tray aside. My stomach rolls. I think I might puke. I look down at the table and force myself to take a deep breath. My stomach gurgles. Groaning, I rest my forehead on my arm and stare at the floor. It's the only place I can't see the dead.

"You don't know how many of them you killed," Vergil says softly. There's no amusement in his voice. Sure, now he's not laughing.

"No," I agree just as quietly. Nor do I even know why I did it half the time, not that I'm admitting that to anyone. I was just a bozo on drugs doing whatever mind fucked thing I was told to do. Which I didn't like. Then Vergil came around and I did whatever he asked me to do because….why not? It was interesting and well, Vergil threatened me into it and before I knew it shit was just spiraling out of control. Then I spent 10 years just...I don't know...reeling? Circling the drain like the rest of the later part of my life.

"Neither do I," he admits. I snort.

"Shocker," I say dryly. I lift my head up, propping my chin on the top of my hands. "You are one unlucky charm." At that both of Vergil's eyebrows go skywards.

"Has it occurred to you that you're the unlucky one?" At that I laugh, exasperated and hopeless.

"There is no way in hell I'm the unlucky one." My stomach churns. I take another deep breath, groaning, as I return my staring eyes to the floor.

"You think I'm unlucky?"

"I know you are."

"Explain." I swallow hard and return my gaze to Vergil.

"What did you play with as a kid? The plastic army dolls or the broken machines?" He studied me for a moment, coolly. I wait.

"A watch," Vergil retorts after a moment. "It was my mother's," he adds. I blink. Swallowing I nod. Vergil tilts his head to the side. He waits.

"You're the unlucky one," I say, "Because Dante hogged all the luck. Always has and it pisses you off." Vergil shakes his head, brushing me off as he taps his fingers on the table top. I glance over to my spent spork. Its no nowhere nearby. Good.

"You just got tired of being unlucky and wanted to curse me with it," I add flatly. It's not wrong. I do think Vergil is unlucky, but I'm not sure how much I can say due to ah...god's consequences. "Everytime I meet you my life gets infinitely more fucked up."

"Is that luck or coincidence?" Vergil demands. At that, he has my attention. I push myself up with a sigh.

"And what's the difference if the end result is the same?" I demand back. At that Vergil smirks.

"If I'm unlucky then it makes all the difference." I snort.

"Maybe it's a coincidence and we're both unlucky," I shrug.

It isn't, Raziel says. I glare at him, before shaking my head a turning away. I pluck up my tray and scoot to the edge of my seat.

"Are we done playing 20 questions?" I pause, tray in hand.

"Is that what we are playing?" Vergil asks. Wordless, I shrug. No. We are not. We are not actually playing some lighthearted fuck around family friendly time wasting game. Not really. Nothing we ever do is fun like that. Impassive, Vergil studies me. "I have nine more questions left."

I blink.

"Seriously? That many?" I think. "How many do I have left?"

"Two."

"Oh fuck you." At that Vergil tilts his head to the side, a smirk on his mouth.

"Is that an offer?"

"I think you have eight questions left now." I retort.

"Eight questions?" A voice echoes. Turning I take in Trish, who's wearing sweats and has her hands on her hips. She's looking between Vergil and I with slight confusion. She turns her attention to me. "We had plans today," She reminds me.

"Right," I get to my feet.

"It's nine," Vergil says, rising to his feet as well. I roll my eyes at him. Typical.

"That's not how the game works."

"I didn't think we were playing games," he replies impassively. With that Vergil turns away. I watch him walk off. I have a feeling that wasn't just a statement but a warning. 20 questions huh. How is it I never got any answers to the questions I wanted.

"What-" Trish starts.

"Don't ask," I say flatly.