Chapter 3

Meanwhile, the power had come back on, much to Vergil's relief, not that he showed it. Indeed, his face remained the same, cold, expressionless and somewhat bored. The only thing that might have given away his state of mind was the fact that he was slouching, yes slouching against the back of the couch. His eyes slid over lazily towards the clock and his eyebrows raised, silently questioning his brother's absence. Surely he would have been back by now? The mission hadn't seemed particularly dangerous, and Dante had behaved in a carefree manner as he had left the building. Surely that meant that it was a job that wasn't worth worrying about? Or maybe Dante was acting out of a false sense of bravado?

He wordlessly began to worry about his brother's whereabouts, anxious and concerned. He bit his lip gently before getting up, his movements silent and deadly as they always were. He began to slowly, deliberately pace about the room, finding it in times of great stress to have a strangely soothing effect, finding it an aid in sorting out his memories and his thoughts.

He was ashamed of himself, ashamed of his mad lapse into darkness, angry at his own insolence and pigheadedness, his own stubbornness and refusal to listen to any voice that provided some kind of semblance of reason. As a result, he had isolated himself, and had even distanced himself from his own brother, his only surviving member from is family. He had mercilessly refused to hear him, to recognize him for who he really was; not just a worthy opponent, but a brother to be proud of. Loving, caring, gentle and kind, with a deep soft-heartedness hidden underneath a rough but ready exterior. But above all, Dante was a worthy friend, not that he had ever told him he considered him as one.

Yet because of his own shortcomings, and because of his obsessive quest for power, he didn't know a damned thing about him.

He didn't know much about his habits, nor his likes or dislikes, not even his hobbies. He had been shocked by his eating habits but was also surprised by his extensive library in demon slaying and exorcisms and ghost hunts and the like. After all, he was meant to be the book worm, not Dante.

He also had no clue as to how Dante acted when in a grossly dire situation, when faced with a mission that was extremely dangerous, that carried a high risk of death. Or maybe he just acted light-hearted when he knew the mission was a "piece of cake" as his brother would frequently say. Maybe he really did know what he was doing. Either way, he had no idea how to find out. All he could do was simply sit tight and wait. Unless he went out, found his scent, sniffed out what direction his brother had taken, turned into a demon when no one was about (which was damn near impossible) and fly, still following the scent until he arrived at wherever the hell his brother was. It seemed more or less plausible, and he couldn't care less as to whether a few humans ended up having a heart-attack after seeing him in all his demonic glory. Besides, humans were stupid. They deserved it.

Decided, he swept up his coat and shrugged into it before reaching under the couch, pulling out his beloved Yamato before standing and stretching himself, pulling on his black boots. He quickly looked into the mirror, running a hand through his hair, sending it into little spikes.

He strode towards the front door, his pace somewhat hurried after he had reached into the top drawer of Dante's office desk, pulling out his glove from several years ago, noticing the rip that he himself had caused. It was still red in areas, where the blood stains had never washed out. Then again, the stains were not the only thing that had failed to fade away. Only a few days earlier, he had noticed something amiss on Dante's palm. He had yanked his younger brother towards him, demanding him to come and sit down beside him. He had turned his hand over, so then the palm was facing up and had immediately frowned slightly when he saw the scar that had marked him.

And to think that he had caused that scar! Had even gone so far as to spill his blood!

It was with these regret filled thoughts in his head that Vergil walked towards the door, reaching out for the door handle, steeling himself before pulling it open. His regret immediately scattered and fled as soon as he crashed straight into his twin, who merely stared at him out of sheer bemusement.

'Holy shit!' Dante exclaimed. Vergil reeled before regaining his composure. He secretly hoped that maybe Dante wouldn't have spotted the worry that had momentarily made it's way into his face and had settled into his eyes. He needn't have worried. 'Man, your hearing is abnormal and that's coming from me!' Vergil merely shrugged stiffly before noticing that something was not quite right. He frowned at his younger twin before raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

'Dante?'

'Yeah?'

'Where is your coat?' Dante blinked at his brother before frowning back at him.

'He's wearing it. He was cold and I couldn't carry him home naked, could I?' It was Vergil's turn to blink at him before he lowered his gaze so then it rested on the pale-skinned vampire. His lip curled in scorn.

'You're not seriously planning to bring that into the house, are you?'

'Why not?'

'I refuse to let it into the house.'

'Verge,' Dante lowered his tone as the vampire stirred slightly in his arms, gritting his teeth slightly in pain, revealing his fangs. 'He's not a dog, okay? He's not some animal that you can just kick to the curb, and it sucks that people do that kind of thing to cats and dogs anyway. He's a person.'

'Wrong. He was a person once.'

'Makes no difference. He still bleeds and can feel the way we do.' Dante pushed past him and walked into the living room. He turned his head to look back at his darker twin. 'And why the hell are you going out in your PJs?'

Vergil looked down and scowled. His coat was on, and his boots were on, but true enough, he was still dressed in his pyjamas. He growled at the offending garments, as though that would make them suddenly disappear.

'Where are you planning to put him for the night? We don't have a coffin.'

'In all honesty, I don't think he'll want a coffin.'

'Then where?'

'He'll be sleeping with me,' Dante said simply. Vergil frowned, feeling that his brother was being naïve.

'And pray tell me, why is the couch not good enough for him?'

'He's been through a lot and I want to keep an eye on him.'

'He could kill you as you sleep, Dante.'

'He won't.'

'Vampires are strange creatures, Dante. They're dangerous. You don't know what-'

'No, Vergil! You don't know!' Dante paused before lowering his tone again. 'You weren't there. You didn't see what I did. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two brothers. Dante cleared his throat sheepishly before trying to change the subject. 'Vergil?' His brother gave no verbal response, merely staring at him, a stony expression on his face. 'What does "kaa-san" mean?' The blue clad twin blinked in astonishment, the surprise more than evident on his face, forcing him to speak.

'It's Japanese. It means "mother".' He watched as Dante's face suddenly softened. 'Why? Where did you hear that?'

'It doesn't matter now, Vergil. Good night.' Vergil watched as his brother padded away. He made as if to call him back but then thought better of it, knowing that he had lost. He cursed their stubbornness that he had inherited from their mother, Dante's refusal to distrust any creature he perceived to be good. Still, Vergil knew that only time would tell, that only time would prove one or the other correct. And he would wait patiently; he was an expert at biding his time. He could only hope that he would be able to step in when things took a turn for the worse and hit rock bottom.

---

Meanwhile, Dante had placed the vampire on his bed and was pacing about the room, frowning.

'Sorry to say this but I don't think you can sleep in my trench-coat. I'll need that tomorrow. I guess I can always see whether I have some old clothes I can give to you.' He pulled a face as another thought entered his mind. 'But you're not going commando in my clothes. I'll just get you one of Vergil's boxers. I'm sure he'll mind but that's exactly why I'm giving them to you.' He returned a minute later with a bundle of clothes in his arms and started to dress him, trying carefully not to hurt him. He paused as the vampire stirred, groaning weakly before opening his eyes to stare dazedly at him. Dante blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then he recovered himself and grinned at him. 'Hey. So you've rejoined the world of the living, right?' The vampire continued to stare at him before nodding slowly, offering a timid smile of his own.

'Thank you,' he whispered softly, lowering his gaze slowly. Dante's lips quirked upwards into a beaming smile.

'I couldn't just leave you there. There's no need to thank me.' The vampire cautiously shifted his gaze again, his hazel eyes meeting with cobalt blue. 'So what happened anyway?' The vampire recoiled slightly, turning his head away, taking in his surroundings before looking back at him.

'Forgive me if I seem rude, but I do not yet feel ready to tell you, Mr…'

'Dante.'

'I will tell you if I ever feel ready, Mr Dante.'

'Just call me Dante. I hate formalities.' The vampire blinked before nodding again.

'Dante.'

'Better.' A silence fell between them before the vampire shyly watched him again.

'Reiko.'

'A pleasure.'