I do not own DMC

...

Just kill me like you want to! Her words had remained engraved in my memory. Such a fool! If only she knew. If only ... I knew.

Knew what ... this ... feeling was. I didn't... understand. I'd buried the human side of me a long time ago. I felt nothing.

But, when I was around her ... gah, I didn't know! It was so ... frustrating! Irritating how one person could do this!

Just kill me like you want to! The little idiot! She had no idea! Did she just assume blindly?

It hurts Vergil, just make it stop! Please! I turned my gaze to the sleeping brunette in my bed. The moon truly was her ally. It illuminated her through the windows, casting silver light over her smooth, tan skin, almost having a shimmering effect. She was curled up delicately and she stirred.

"Vergil," She uttered my name so softly and low. She curled up tighter and rubbed her face into the pillow before falling silent and still once again.

It hurts Vergil...

"I know," I leaned over and without thinking, brushed the strand of hair out of her face, leaving her portrait vulnerable for me to see.

Whatever it was that made me feel things...

All I knew, was that even I admired her beauty in that moment. Even I was able to bring myself to see, that she was the most beautiful creature I'd laid my eyes on in that moment. The strange feeling was back, pressuring my chest.

This is just lust. I told myself. ... A demon emotion.

...

My vision kept dimming and I could feel the blood pooling at the surface of my wounds. Something told me I needed to get out of here. What if there were more of them? In my pathetic and pitiful condition, I wouldn't survive against another brutal attack from those lowlife sons of bitches.

My anger began to surge, giving me some unknown power. Enough to begin my crawl over the wet pavement. The rain continued to pour, limiting my already limited sight. I kept on though, dragging my beaten body over the wet ground, water running down my face, taking the place of the tears that I had held back.

I was in agony.

The only thing that I could possibly believe was keeping me alive was the hatred and the need for vengeance that I harbored for my abusers. I had defeated a few only to be caught off guard, which begged the question.

Who had taken care of the rest? I had heard the yelps and painful screams of my assailers, and I had been given a moment of relief once the beating had ceased for that period of time.

Only to be left alone in my own blood. Cold rain beating my wretched body. As if I didn't have enough weight to carry, I didn't need any pressure being put on my body. I looked out into the rain to get a view as to where I was heading, only for a boot to stomp into my view, sending a slight disturbance in the puddle of water into my face. I tried to lift my head, in what was no doubt an insignificant action. So ineffectual were my efforts to sustain some dignity in my contemptible state.

I hated myself.

More than anything I hated this boot in my face, for all it proved was what I viewed myself as in this dark hour. The slight incline I had given my head helped get a better view of my witness. With my terrible vision, all I could see was the blurry figure of a man in a long blue coat. His hair looked as though it fell over his face in the white, silver strands. At his side in his left hand he held some object. Some threatening weapon that resembled a sword from what I could tell.

He didn't say anything….. and he didn't need to.

My vision was fading to black, and my body was going numb. So what ever it was he intended to do to me, I would not see, nor would I feel, and the way things were going, I would not taste, hear, or even smell his intentions.

I heard his breath at my ear and felt its chill before I lost consciousness.

Dante? No.

... Vergil.

I woke in Vergil's room. It was night already and the moon sent rays of soft blue through the window, outlining the figure gawking out it in white and silver light, lighting him up like the heavens. If I had ever refered to him as an angel before, this was a whole new meaning. I was waiting for him to sprout white, feathered wings at any moment.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," He didn't look at me, but those emotionless words were directed towards me. I didn't know what he meant until I felt the horrid pain in my shoulder blades sear through me.

"Gah, why can't I just transform like you do? Why do I go through some slow process? It hurts!" I whined. The man in my dream who had been blurred then, was definately not blurred now. No. I could see him all too clearly.

He finally turned to face me and his face was grave. Those orbs of cold ice were so painful it almost hurt me as well. What was causing him pain? What was eating at him? Was it me? No, not even I could do that to him.

"I was dreaming ... of when you found me," I admited outright. It was weighing on my mind afterall. His brows creased and he looked puzzled.

"You were a bloody, incoherrent mess," Vergil said, "You kept slipping in and out of consciousness,"

"Incoherrent?"

"You kept trying to talk. You'd say Dante's, my mother's, and my name repeatedly. You kept saying to run when I was carrying you that night,"

I let out a breath, "I don't really remember that night. Every now and then, bits and pieces will click, and fit into my mind and I'll remember a part, but for the most part, I don't remember,"

Neither of us said a word for what seemd like ages, and he turned back to gaze out the window. He hung his head and I could see his eyes narrow as if he were irritated by something, "Do you really think I want to kill you?" He said.

Was that what had been bothering him so much? What I had said? Did it really matter what I said?

"You've avoided me for over three days and everytime I do see you, you look at me as if you're going to pull Yamato at any moment. I can only assume it's because of my father," I answered angrily. He caught it too.

"I was more angry at myself for not knowing," He said, looking up at the sky outside, "I know now that I wasn't angry with you so much as I was angry at your heritage. It just made sense to be angry with you though,"

"Yes, well your "sense" is a little off," I retorted with acid. I forced myself to move to the side of the bed and swing my legs over to get to my feet.

"Get back in bed," He commanded.

"No,"

"Sarla," He warned.

"Don't, "Sarla" me! I'm sure you can understand that I'm tremendously angry with you right now! All this time I was afraid you were actually considering the option of killing me because of who my father is. Even now, I feel like you hate me for some reason! Am I not desirable now that you know my father is the "Prince of Darkness" the almighty Mundus?" I exploded, forcing myself up on my feet and doubled over when the pain got the better of me.

"What did I tell you?"

"SHUTUP! Don't talk down to me!" I screamed more at the pain than at him.

"Well someone needs to seeing as how you don't know your place,"

"My place?" I looked at him with incredulous eyes.

"Yes, as the sick person your place is in bed, and as the healthy Master it is my job to make sure my slave is taken well care of," He was at my side in an instant, placing a hand on my shoulder and forcing me to look at him with his other hand.

"I told you that I don't like being called "slave". I'm the Master here," He grinned with chagrin at my words.

"It is not because you're not desirable," His grin widened and there was a guilty glint in those almost silvery eyes now, "It's definately not because of that,"

"Then what is your problem?" I demanded.

He was serious again as he said, "I was ... I really don't know. No matter how I look at it I can't seem to figure out what I was ... feeling," Oh shit.

He wasn't playing fair.

"Are you- Are you wearing cologne?" It was totally off base, but I couldn't help but take in the aroma of pure masculinity. The smell that was his, and then intensified by some wrongly-right cologne that was so not fair to my hormones. He looked at me funny.

"Out of all that, you caught that I'm wearing cologne?" He sighed and hung his head.

"As mature as I may appear and act, I am a teenager," I confessed.

"That aside, did you catch anything I said?"

"Something about not knowing what you were feeling," I smiled sheepishly.

"Right," He paused, "And I don't know what to do about that. I don't like talking like this so bear with me. I don't even know how to talk like this, but... I'm doing this for your sake. ...because I know you ... well you- you just like to know how I'm feeling or what's on my mind, and I suppose that you're inclined to know," He fumbled with this. He really didn't know. He was so confused it was driving him insane. He was not acting like the Vergil I knew.

"Well, you said that you've had feelings for me since we were young. Let's start there. What kind of feelings?" I was hoping he would maybe start to identify what he was feeling. It was a start, I suppose.

"What does that have to do with this?"

"It has everything to do with this. You can't even identify your emotions. He describe them but you still can't identify them. You can identify them in other people, but where you're concerned you seem emotionally constipated to the point you don't even know what you're feeling. Even if you hate your human emotions, it would seem that you need to at least know them otherwise things end up like this," I swept my hand over my body in emphasis.

He turned away and I forced him to look back at me, "It's not that simple. I don't want to know. I don't want my emotions. They only get in the way," He retorted coldly, "The only reason I'm even trying to talk to you like this is because I know you want me to. You want to know what's on my mind and how I feel about things but the truth is I don't feel. That's why it confuses me to no end when you are around and something does start surfacing and I can't name it," As deep as the conversation was getting, he still didn't give in. He still had that detached expression. That aloofness still surrounded him. What was the most stubborn was that barrier surrounding his core.

"I thought we already established that it was your feelings for me," I recalled the image of him hovering over me only a week ago and telling me he'd felt that way since childhood.

"I just assumed. I don't know. Humans always say you're in love when you feel strongly and affectionate towards someone. I don't know. I'm just assuming because I do like your presence and always have. I like having you around," He was so nonchalant.

"Well, yeah, but you can feel strongly without loving someone, so basically you need to figure out just how far you'd go for me,"

"Do you have to ask?" He answered with a question and I couldnt help myself. I leaned into him and kissed him softly on the lips. He responded immediately and it quickly climbed. His arms came around me gently and pulled me closer. My hands came to his face and I held it, ignoring the pain in my shoulders from the movement.

"This isn't like you," I whispered against him but he pulled my lips back to his. The passion flew out of us and I totally ignored my pain as I pulled him down with me so that he hovered over my body. His touch almost seemed to relax my aching muscles but I knew it was because I was simply not thinking about it. When his slowly becoming fiercer hand began to run up my leg and grab my outer thigh, I surrendered entirely. I gave in.

"Whether he's your father or not, it's not going to stop me from doing this," He pulled back and looked at me for a moment, grinned naughtily, then descended back down.

"Even if you can't say it, and I'm not too keen on saying it, I'll say it for you," I stopped him this time, "I love you, Vergil,"

"Shutup," He smirked and silenced me again.

Whether he could say it or not, I knew what it was. I knew what he would say if he could. He didn't have to say it now, hell, he didn't have to say it ever. As corny and cheesy at it sounded, as long as he stayed by me, I didn't care if he didn't ever say it, whether it would be nice or not.

Because I loved him.