Author's Note: Hey all, hope you guys are doing well. I'd like to explain one thing here by the way, the "voice" Dante keeps hearing is a darker aspect of his psyche, triggered by the trauma of his loss. It's a side he never thought existed, a sort of Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde case scenario, kinda, except this demonic darkness was unintentionally awakened. In this chapter, as Dante's madness sinks to new, macabre levels, we realize he's getting more and more detached from reality. I'm sorry if this fic seems a bit confusing sometimes, but I'm presenting you a broad spectrum of possibilities as we go, and you are free to draw your own conclusions…Until this tragic drama unfolds. I can tell you now someone's going to die. Rest assured, it won't be Dante.

Seeker: Aw, I'm so glad to have you back –hugs- Hope everything's allright. Thanks for your positive and inspiring reviews. By the way, you got close, I'm from Australia, so yeah. -grins- I think the only institution Dante could end up would be jail for killing Mary…but that's not how the story goes…All I can say is wait and see…

VergilSparda666: Yeah, it is a bit creepy too now come to think of it…Thanks for reading. –hugs-

Anonymous: You're right about Mary having a purpose, she's my favourite out of DMC girls also, but I disagree with you on the OOC part, as fierce and headstrong and reserved she might be, she's not bound to stay that way forever as age creeps in, just like Dante's not the wisecracking smartass funboy he used to be. If you're referring to the scene where she tries to jump his bones, that was his imagination. You're about to find out. Aanyhow, is Mary really dead? Just read on and find out, if you so wish.

"It is time, Dante."

The half-demon teenager raised his head from where it was buried in his mother's chest, his face smeared with the warm blood from the gashing wound that had ended Eva's life. Tears blurred iced blue eyes as Dante stared at his twin in absolute disgust.

"I'm not going!" He shouted, holding Eva's unmoving, limp body in his arms, his fingers tangling in her blood-caked flaxen tresses.

The blue clad half-devil sighed with unconcealed impatience, tearing his gaze away from his dead mother, looking towards the door, his face darkening.

"Why do you always have to make such a big drama? I grieve for mother also, but if you let your emotions overrule your reason all the time, you will never achieve power; the power of our father Sparda." Vergil glanced at his twin. "Come, Dante, they're waiting for us. We have much to do, brother." He continued with a touch of tenderness. If Vergil thought his words would inspire and motivate Dante, he was in for a nasty shock.

Dante launched himself at Vergil bodily, slamming him into the hard wall, casing the delicate framed paintings to tremble violently. He grabbed his older twin by his blue collar, his face inches apart from Vergil's, growling like a madman and glaring at him through flood of tears.

"Mum's dead, you jerk-off! She died trying to protect us from those monsters, and all you can think of is power? GO TO HELL, VERGIL!"

Vergil's eyes were burning orbs of fiery blue as he pushed Dante back with immense strength he drew upon his long-awakened devil essence. When Dante fell, Vergil kicked his younger twin in the ribs once, staring down at him coldly as Dante groaned and twitched on the ground.

"Oh, I shall, Dante, I certainly shall. But at least I will enter the gates of Hell with pride, as a dark lord just like our father was once, while you will grovel like a belly-crawling snake! That's all you will ever be, Dante, a weakling, a fool!" Vergil hissed, his hands curling to fists at his sides.

Dante moaned incoherently and rolled over to his mother, clutching her to him as if to never let go. Vergil had plunged a dagger deep into his heart, buried it deep, opening wounds that would never heal and forever fester. If power was synonymous with death and destruction and corruption of a noble soul, then his father could have it, Dante wanted no part of it.

"Get out! I never want to see you, ever again! I don't have a brother!" Dante spat angrily, his face warping into a mask of perfect anguish and perfect hatred marred with tears.

Silence.

Then a metallic sound cut through the silence as Vergil took Rebellion and flung it at his brother.

"Next time we meet, it will be under less pleasant circumstances, brother." He said, his voice lowering. "Next time we meet, that sword will be sticking out of your chest. So you'd better start putting it to good use, unless you want to suffer the same fate as our mother."

Vergil turned with a flourish of his blue trench, walking out of the door. The lock clicked into place with a soft, quiet sound as the door closed.

Dante hugged his mother still, holding her in his trembling embrace as he rocked back and forth on the floor…

He wanted to go to Vergil, turn him around and beg him to come back, that he didn't mean what he had said…That they were twins, and were not meant to be separated from one another…

"Don't go Vergil…Come back…You promised you wouldn't leave me…" Dante wept, then whispered to the emptiness; all that was left from his brother…

"You promised…"

Dante gathered Mary's dead body in his arms and went upstairs to his bedroom, kicking the door open in his usual style. He laid her on the bed very gently as one lays sacred offerings on an altar, reverently.

He stroked her dark hair, marvelling how even in death, her beauty had not vanished, but only paled as a bright red rose pales with a final sigh of season's change.

Dante filled a glass bowl with cold water and grabbed a white cloth, cleaning up the horrid wound, then wiping the blood off her face gently, slowly. He trailed the wet cloth along Mary's lifeless lips, adoring their faded cherry hue…

Then, he went to the bathroom to dispose of the soiled water, switching the electric light on.

He saw a haggard man in the mirror; wan, crestfallen, forlorn. White locks hung about a pasty skinned face, with prominent cheekbones and sunken eyes.

What are you waiting for…You have the two amulets, you have the blood of the priestess, it is time to revive that which was once revered and worshipped, so you can gain access to the demon world, and finish off Mundus.

Dante's hair stood on end, sweat ran down his face in rivulets.

"We have a crucial problem, brother. Both our blood is needed for the ritual to work, and…You're dead."

Dante was caught in a vicious circle, suffocating all that was good in him.

The original key had been our father's all along. It is the blood that runs both in our veins. You know that.

Dante took a step toward the mirror, staring into his face, which had taken on a strange, greyish tinge; his lips were a thin line of sickly blue, as pale as his eyes…

Somewhere off the distance, guns pumped through the air, followed by men screaming obscenities and the siren of a police car approaching.

A straight razor gleamed on the side of the sink, innocently.

Unable to bear to look at his reflection anymore, with all his might borne of his angst, Dante slammed his fist into the mirror. The glass shattered instantaneously, the broken shards falling to the ground at his feet.

Lights flickered, then went out.

From inside the bedroom, came a strange noise like that of a wet, heavy body of a mutilated mannequin slithering on the ground.

Towards the bathroom.

Dante's heart ceased to beat, as he listened.

Look now what you've done…

Now you'll have to kill her all over again.

Do you have the guts, Dante?

Can you kill your friend, like you killed me, brother?

Would you kill her, for my sake, for my redemption?

Or would you rather kill yourself?

Which will you choose, brother?

Reviews are greatly appreciated guys, but you already know that. -smiles-