A/N: OK – you know the drill… dedicated to J
This is the first time I've done any fan fiction so I hope that you like it.
I've tried to keep it in line with DMC cannon - so this technically should fit in between DMC1 and 2.
Yeah DMC belongs to Capcom... lucky things!
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The alleyway stank of old flesh. There were demons loitering in the shadows but they didn't come out to play, much to Vergil's disappointment. He was getting more agitated and stressed with each step that he took. The alley was dark and long, but he knew it like the back of his hand. It was a long time since he had passed this way. The walls were a darker colour than he remembered and there was more graffiti on the walls. Someone had sprayed that the end of the world was nigh over the windows of a shop. Vergil shook his head. Just what had happened here? He had seen enough aftermath for a while.
Ash hung in the air like a thick soup. As he walked further down the alley he looked back, convinced he saw a flash of red. Demon maybe being a little bolder than its counterparts perhaps? Maybe a figment of his imagination. The silence was deafening, all he could hear was the whisper and murmur of lost souls in his head and the slow trickle of blood running in the gutter. Of course to the untrained, or un demon ear it would be perfect quiet, quiet contemplation of a graveyard quiet, to Vergil the sounds of an abattoir.
He turned the corner in the alley to come to an open space. He could have gone the long way round and come up the road to the building, but he liked the shadows of the alley. He still felt conspicuous after the episode in the train station about being in the open, and something about this place was sending his demon senses into overdrive.
He glanced out of the alley to make sure that the place is deserted. And one end of the road he knew was the tower. He could still feel the pulsing presence of the portal contained by it. It has a hypnotic quality to it and he was half compelled to make his way towards it. No. Not this time. That was the old Vergil, back when he was weak. He has to be strong and resist the call. It was always going to be hard when he returned, but he didn't realise the call would be this strong. But maybe it was because of what lay at the other end of the street. He knew he was making excuses. He had a destination, he was just scared. He snorted to himself and frowned. He was the son of the Legendary Dark knight Sparda. He had nothing to fear.
Stepping out of the alley into the road he looked up at the building. He gasped his knees almost gave way. How did this happen, what on earth had done this. Correction he thought, what in hell's name has done this.
The building was standing, barely. The windows were all grimy and covered in dirt. The front door was hanging off by the hinges and the shop window had a large crack in it. There was a wooden sheet holding the window pane in it seemed. Vergil came closer and stopped on the thresh hold. What had gone on here? The pool table was broken, rather crushed by some immense weight and even the desk was smashed. Vergil put his bag one of the chairs that seemed to be have survived. The chair broke into a cloud of dust. Vergil coughed and backed away. He bumped into the jukebox. He had stocked it full of their favourite CDs just for him. It was broken. The CDs scratched and dented. Most of them laying on the floor. Vergil bent to pick one up. It was so destroyed he was unable to read what it had been.
In horror he threw the CD away. His reflection in it was pale and gaunt. He looked physically sick. He leant on the remains of the desk choking back the urge to scream. This desk had held so many memories. He opened a draw and found the letter opener that his father had left. It was not inscribed to him. With great power comes great responsibility, use it well, my Son. Vergil didn't realise that he was gripping the letter opener so hard until the blood began to pool on the floor. He gasped and dropped it. The cut on his hand healed as he watched. Considering he had spent a large amount of time in this place there was not many possessions in the main office. All the hunting trophies had fallen off the wall and blood was splattered everywhere. Oh please no, thought Vergil, don't let it be his.
The stairs beckoned. Vergil tried to push the doors closed, the last thing he wanted was some dark creature slinking in and catching him off guard. The doors would not yield. Then again there was probably more in here to be scared of than there was out there. Pull yourself together he thought. You have to do this. You have to know the truth.
The hallway was dark. The walls were pitted with bullet holes and battle scars. Vergil was surprised, no one had managed to get this far before. Normally the area was well defended by no only brute force but wards and enchantments. Was this his fault? He wouldn't have gone if he had known. Then again, considering the circumstances he might still have done just out of spite. In each room was broken furniture, more signs of struggle and disrepair. His parents room was in tatters. The large bed had been hacked at and long scratches adorned the head board. It was still useable it seemed, but the springs were coming out the mattress and feathers all over the room. There was blood in here as well, much of it he could sense was demon blood. In certain circumstances although the body returns to the abyss the aftermath remains.
Vergil turned from the room with regret, there was nothing he would have been able to do to stop this destruction. Some of it must have been from the 'fall out' which he assumed by now was another large portal becoming opened, from the amount of damage that the house had sustained it seemed to be filled with large demons which were powerful enough to rip through.
The last room beckoned. This was his room. He almost didn't want to look. He was frightened to what he was going to find.
He quickly checked the bathroom on the way. The sink had been shattered and dark marks were all over the shower curtain. He reached out and pulled the curtain back. The bath was full of darkness, black thick scum. It had not been used for days, maybe even weeks. A sound alerted him to a presence. He tensed and listened intently. After a few minutes he decided that is was nothing more than the building shifting in the ever relentless pull of gravity.
He could no longer hold it off. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the threshold. The door was pitted and scared. Claw marks were on the outside, like something was panicking to get into the room, or maybe desperate to get what was inside the room. The door was stuck. It seemed to be locked. Strange, Vergil thought, all the other rooms were open, including the front door. With a hard shove the lock popped open and Vergil stumbled into the room. He dusted off his jacket and realised that a kick would have been more efficient if there was something in the room. Luckily it was deserted.
This was his room. Their room. It looked the same as it had the day he had left. Then his gaze shifted from the memories to the present. The room was indeed deserted. The bed was shattered. The posts broken and laying in a heap. The wood splintered and dusty. Vergil bit back a growl as he saw the blood spray against the walls. This was not demon blood. This was blood that he knew well and it was the ying to the yang that flowed through his veins. Everything in the room was in tatters. His clothes that he has left behind were in shreds across the floor. The sheets from the bed had been ripped and feathers were everywhere. They may be half demon but they have a bit of taste. The silken bed sheets were soaked in blood, both demon and otherwise. The sofa they lounged on while watching movies was in pieces. The cushions at either ends of the room. The velvet drapes torn from their runners, claw marked and crumpled like dying butterflies. The TV had been trashed, ripped from the wall and the screen broken, most likely by a foot. The walk in closet was also soaked in blood.
On the floor was the tattered remains of a red coat. Vergil bent to examine it. It was covered in demon entrails. The red had soaked up the blood and was almost black in places. The leather was in shreds. Vergil tenderly picked up the coat and held it. This was where he had made his last stand. To guard the family home it seemed. They had overcome him. As far as he could tell the demons must have consumed him. The amount of blood in the small room could easily have been enough to show this was where he died. He found it ironic that just his coat was left. None of his weapons were near by, but then maybe they had been lost to him before. Vergil glanced about, there was no bullet holes or sword marks in here or the bedroom. Maybe they were in other rooms, most likely not. Most likely the demons had taken them with them.
Vergil perched on the edge of the bed, well what was left of it. He held the coat closer and stared at his hands. If he had not left he might have prevented this. They had sworn to protect each other for ever when they were children. Then their mother was taken from them. Vergil had fallen to the side of darkness while the other had tried to compensate by trying to destroy the things that stole her away. His father sacrificed his power to end the war. And he couldn't bare the thought of it any more and was consumed by his rage. He had caused the rip in reality to become a floodgate and had managed to turn himself inwards away from everything.
He hadn't wanted to hurt him. He had gotten in the way and when it was too late he tried to save him. He hadn't deserved to be saved. When he had come back he had welcomed him back with open arms. Vergil hung his head in shame. This was all his fault. He should have been here when he was needed. When he was crying out in pain. He should have stood by his side and gone down with him.
His knuckles where white and tight. He was gripping the shreds of leather so tightly it was cutting into his skin. He relished the pain. He deserved pain. What had he expected? The town had been turning into a ghost town when he left all those months ago. Most of the towns people had moved on or out. Maybe something in the air made them uneasy. Humans were strange creatures. They could deny the existence of a hell dimension, even when the proof was sticking out the ground. Some of the fanatics had wanted to preserve the tower. They were sure it was some forgotten religions temple. They were half right he smirked to himself.
The sun was weak here. The window in the closet was shattered and the sun pooled on the floor. Vergil focused on the floor. Something was not right. Maybe the fact that his family home was just a shell of a building now. No it wasn't that. Something else. It would come to him later.
He put the leather scraps in his pocket and trudged back down the stairs. His bag forgotten for the while. His heart cracked a little in his chest. He had given him that bag when they were children. He had wanted to see the world, he was the ambitious one. He was the one that was looking for the power. The other just wanted to stay at home and fight the good fight. He had opened his business and it was successful. For the time Vergil had returned from the hell dimension he had fought side by side with him against the dark hordes he himself had unleashed.
It had been good for a while, but it had not been enough. Every time Vergil looked at him he felt only guilt that he had let him down. He had let the family down, what would his father think of him, and his mother.
A dry sob escaped from him as the weight of what he had come home to burrowed deep into his soul. He collapsed into the leather chair that used to sit behind the big oak desk. Where the only person left in the world that he cared for had sat. Where he would no longer sit. Where Vergil thought that his heart would break and the ground would swallow him up.
Vergil buried his face in his hands and wept. He wept for his father, his mother, his brother, but, he wept most for the love that he had lost and would never find again.
He wept until he was exhausted and fell into a fitful sleep as the sun started to set in the distance and the shadows grew longer. The demons had come out of hiding, yet they kept a wide path around the premises, they knew somehow who was in there and they knew they should be afraid.