Chapter 18 : The Choices We Make

The men were still giving chase.

'Run, Kyrie, run!' She cheered herself on. 'Think… think fast thoughts! Racecars! Wiley Coyote!'

She clutched at the stitch in her side as her feet took her down paths that were misleading during the day and menacing during the night.

Past narrow alleys filled more with shadow than light; into lamp lit hawk markets, dodging merchants with oily smiles and buyers with busy scowls; past red-brick buildings, heavily graffiti-ed and windowless – Kyrie ran, mouth dry, sides aching till she could run no longer.

She pushed sweat damp hair out of her face and wondered at her luck when she realized that she had stopped in front of a cabaret. Kyrie hesitated in front of the pink neon-lit doors, gasping for breath. For a moment, she debated on whether to just run for a phone or retrace her steps back to Gloria when the sharp yells of her pursuers made her decision for her.

Kyrie made her escape - into the club.

The music beat the air like a physical force, Kyrie could feel it reverberating somewhere behind her ears and chest bone; a tribal beat. She moved through the mass of gyrating people, averting her eyes from the stage where scantily-clad women were twinned around poles.

Making her way to the corner of the room, she scanned the crowd with anxious discomfort, gasping for breath.

'Okay… okay. Okaaaaaay. Now, think invisible thoughts! Um, um, um, air! Chameleons! Plastic wrap!'

Kyrie stumble-ran for the counter, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

"Can I help ya?" The bar tender leaned across the bar top as he wiped a glass clean, heavily kohl-ed eyes openly curious.

"P-please, I'm being chased…!" She had to lean forward to hear and even then, yell to be heard. "Can you lend me a phone so I can call home and – "

"There you are, beautiful!" A large hand suddenly clamped over her mouth and she was jerked back roughly into the redhead's arms.

She made to back away, but his hand shot out to grip her wrist, a charming smile on his lips. She tried to open her mouth to protest – to scream – but found she could do nothing other than stare into the pupil-less eyes of what was suddenly the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

It wasn't that his features had changed, but all of a sudden he seemed to glow an attractive light that made it difficult for her to do anything other than stare at his face. Why had she been running away from him anyway? The man noticed her relax and his ensuing smile sent her heart fluttering.

"That's a good girl," He leaned in and his breath was sweet. "Don't worry about it, she just gets this way sometimes." The man told the bartender who gave a small shrug and moved to serve other customers. A strange hum began to flood her ears, blocking out even the insistent bass of the music. The man's voice dropped an octave lower and the buzzing in Kyrie's ears grew louder. "And now let's get some compensation for this scratch you gave me..."

He pulled her closer, and she could only watch in awe as the beautiful face came closer and closer, as his lips began to descend on hers.

A gloved hand suddenly clamped over her eyelids, pulling her back against a firm, leather-clad chest. The scent of thunderstorms filled her nose as she felt the controlled shifting of muscles behind her, followed by the distinct noise of a blade being unsheathed.

"Slayer," Came the terrified, garbled whine, gone all suavity. "I – I'm sorry! I didn't realize she was yours! I - " The figure behind her made no reply, but she felt his arm whip over her shoulders, followed by the grating of steel through bone, before a thud of something that was almost swallowed up by the pulsing music.

Someone screamed and then came the scramble of people jostling each other and running as far away as possible. All of a sudden, Kyrie found that she could move again and her knees proceeded to demonstrate that fact by trembling.

"Dante." Vergil's voice rumbled softly above her head as he dropped his hand away and turned her sharply behind him, keeping the man out of sight. "That'll be the incubus you want."

"…Is that… Kyrie?" Came Dante's incredulous voice, but Vergil was already on the move, fingers clamped with bruising strength around her arm and he proceeded to manhandle her out the club.

Outside, the streets were deserted and in the silence after the deafening music she felt her eardrums throb. A few streets away, at a deserted alley, Vergil suddenly dropped his death-grip on her arm and Kyrie crumpled to the floor. He stared down at the still girl, rage burbling in his chest at the memory of her staring so entranced at the lesser demon – so stupid as to let it touch her. He wanted to scrub at her arms, her shoulders, her lips – to do away the other demon's touch with his own if that was what was necessary. Instead, he grit his teeth and glared ice at the wide eyes that stared back.

He had wondered what he would feel the next time he saw her, and was almost glad at this excuse to be angry instead of ashamed.

"What are you doing here?" Vergil demanded silkily – furiously – she realized. "Do you really have a death wish or are you simply a bigger idiot than I had pegged you for?"

Kyrie stared up at him, chest heaving, and adrenalin pumping hot in her veins.

"You killed him." Came the whisper, unbidden from her lips. Unable to look at him, she focused her gaze on his boots, scuffed, worn and what must have once been brown leather, was now cracked with grey lines of use. There was a splatter of something dark on his toe-tip and Kyrie felt a strange urge to wipe in clean.

"Very astute of you." He replied scathingly. "But that is no answer to my question."

Kyrie fumbled for words. "I… I got lost!"

"All the way into the depths of the Underground?" Vergil was not pleased. "Kyrie…" Came the dangerous, velveteen thrum of his voice and she could hold back no longer.

"I was out with Nero's boss and was chased by some scary people!" She blurted out.

He cocked an expressive eyebrow and out came the story of her meeting with Gloria - tumbling out of her lips, hindered by her tongue, a flood of words that left an awkward silence in its wake.

"And so you decided to enter a cabaret to seek shelter." He demanded curtly.

"No…?" She looked almost embarrassed. "I didn't really mean to… I just couldn't run anymore and it was the most crowded place in sight. I was just trying to escape, until I met you… in a cabaret."She had the gall to give him a disapproving look.

"It's not for pleasure," He resisted the urge to tweak her nose. "I'm investigating the disappearances of some girls who worked here..." He trailed off upon noticing the way her shirt clung to her sweat-soaked form, at the slender shoulders that rose and fell with every shuddering breath. He tore his gaze away with a barely muted snarl. "Come. You're going home."

Kyrie tried to rise to her feet only to found that her knees had somehow locked into place. She was trembling: of the marrow rattling, stomach churning, liver quaking, shaking soul kind. Every fiber and cell was vibrating with the remains of adrenalin and fear.

She had been so scared.

Still Nero didn't come.

But, a small voice whispered, Vergil did.

Kyrie lowered her head. "I… can't stand." She was suddenly furious at the thickness of her voice, at the weakness of her for being unable to do anything but run.

A leather coat fell upon her shoulders, its heavy weight and warmth reassuring. "It was just a demon." Vergil's voice was quiet; not gentle, but neither was it unkind. "He was the incubus that had resulted in the girl's disappearing. You've dealt with demons before. You've killed them, too." He did not fail to notice her flinch. "Now, get up."

His blunt logic made her feel better and eventually, the trembling went away. Kyrie slid her arms into the wide sleeves, shakily climbing unto her feet. She stood, and gave him a small smile that was tremulous at its corners.

"Thank you." She whispered, and in that moment, Vergil's gaze was not ice but flame.

Then Dante appeared, face grim.

"One of you explain what is going on." Gone all mirth and easy-going smiles, he looked as stern and grim as a vengeful Greek god, come to bring punishment. Then his gaze jerked unto Kyrie and his lips parted in stunned surprise. "Woah. You…"

Kyrie swallowed.

"What do I feel like?" She asked, curiously.

"Like pizza, just out of the oven." He answered immediately. "Like a shot of whisky as it burns down your throat. Like…"

Like the beginnings of a seduction; the stirrings of liquid fire pooling in ones stomach and heightened electricity in one's fingertips making every caress, breath and touch as painful as it was exquisite.

Dante's adam apple bobbed.

"…Uh… nice." He finished lamely. He ran his hands over his eyes as if suddenly tired. "Damn, Vergil you sure have it rough."

Vergil didn't like the distinct tone of pity in his brother's voice.

"Why the sudden change? I've never… felt this in Kyrie before."

Vergil crossed his arms, the lines of foreboding on his face deepening. "Yesterday, I had fallen asleep and wasn't completely in control. That may have begun the consolidation process."

"'Consolidation process'?" Kyrie echoed. "Of what?"

Dante and Vergil exchanged looks.

"Go to the agency." Dante nodded. "Morrison should be arriving soon and once I speak with him then follow."

Vergil turned to the girl. "Come with me."

"Oh and Verge," He glanced back at Dante who seemed a little flushed. "If there's anything in your books about how to calm down that magnet thing, do it before I get back. It's… distracting."

Vergil didn't know whether to bark out a laugh or gut his brother.

He gestured for Kyrie to follow him and on the way back, though she stood so close her fingertips brushed his sleeve, he did not move away.

Nero awoke, head pounding and thoroughly disoriented.

There was the dull beep of machinery, familiar from his frequent check-ups with Agnus, and the scent of disinfectant was strong in the air. Had he taken a nap in between one of the tests? Sometimes he took advantage of the time it took to process results to catch up on some rest. Or maybe Agnus' long-winded speeches had actually put him to sleep? He wouldn't have been surprised either way.

Nero tried to open his eyes and found that he couldn't.

Panic overtook him then and he tried to sit up, only to regret the action as pain lanced through his whole body. His head ached to the point where Nero wanted nothing more than to cut it off. Needles must have been stuck in every crevice and dip of his brain, burrowing their way deeper inside – and his hand! Oh, his hand! It was as if someone was grinding it into a bed of skewers, white with heat. He would've screamed but that involved moving, and Nero was anxious not to repeat his earlier mistake.

There was a soft intake of breath by his right and a clatter of heels as someone approached.

"Agnus – he's awake!" Came Gloria's breathy whisper.

"Nero, can you h-h-hear me?"

Nero weighed the pros and the cons of his next action. "Wa…water." He managed to rasp.

There was an anxious clattering and something cool was pressed against his lip. He managed to take several thirsty gulps and felt immediately better.

"Tha…nks…" He managed to slur before he fell back into unconsciousness.

The second time Nero woke, the pain had retreated to nothingness – in fact, he felt great. His body felt strong, all strain, all weariness gone to be replaced by vitality he had never felt before.

He opened his eyes. Gloria's concerned face and Agnus' calculating one came into blurry view.

"How do you feel?" Gloria asked anxiously.

Nero sat up and was surprised at the ease with which his body obeyed him. He felt as if he could run a marathon – heck, three marathons in succession if need be. Ignoring Gloria's worried look, he took a long, spine-lengthening stretch and began to peel off the probes and medical instruments that were stuck on him. "Good." He admitted. "Really good. What happened?" He began to unwrap the bandages that were wrapped around his arm, only to have Gloria's gloved hand stop him.

"Your arm." She spoke quietly. "During the examination you suddenly fainted and your arm began to transform… began to pour demonic energy and possess you."

"Possess…?" Nero stood stock-still and Gloria took it as a sign to continue.

"We managed to temporarily suppress the symptoms with some of Agnus' more recently crafted medication, but there is no longer any assurance that he can keep up to your body's ability to adapt. You're developing immunity too quickly." By the horror in Nero's eyes, Gloria could tell that he believed everything. She resisted the urge to purr. The wide-eyed doe look suited him so well. "It was lucky it happened when you were at the lab. If it had occurred anywhere else…" She trailed off delicately.

"Did I… hurt anybody?" Nero's head spun with the effort to keep up with the new information. "Did anyone see – find out?"

He had never before felt more helpless.

Gloria shook her head. "I was able to subdue you; once unconscious, your body stopped the change and we were able to get you the appropriate medication. Your secret is safe."

The unspoken 'for now' lingered heavy in the air.

Nero took a deep breath. "I need to report to Credo." His voice was impossibly calm. "Agnus, is there any way to repress the next change? What about the suppressor that you were telling me about?"

Agnus steepled his fingers, feigning calm but burbling interest that made Nero want to curl his fingers around the older man's neck. He supposed this was exciting from a mad-scientist's point of view, but Agnus really shouldn't derive so much pleasure from other people's misery.

"The c-c-c-commander has been informed." Agnus replied. "As for the suppressor itself, it can no longer do you any good. The demonic energy s-spread too far, had continued in its modification of you as its host, b-b-before we were able to h-h-halt it completely. You have c-come too deeply into hold for me to say anything in absolute certainty."

As Agnus spoke, Nero shook off Gloria's arm and tore at the bandages to stare at the sight before him.

Thick leathery scales had been grafted unto his forearm like some grotesque growth, encasing luminous blue flesh that ended in talons. There were the smallest shifts in the light that pulsed in response to his frantic heartbeat, and if it weren't so utterly up close and personal he would have said there was something almost beautiful about it. He tried to move his fingers and the lined digits moved in response.

The world spun a moment and Nero found himself in danger of heaving up yesterday's lunch.

"Nero, this is an order." Gloria's voice broke through his confusion. "Stay in the laboratory for your, and everyone else's, safety."

It hit Nero then: he was possessed and in danger of being further swallowed up by whatever this thing that was taking over his body was. He was a liability and a danger to everyone.

A monster.

"B-b-boy." Agnus' stutter broke through his thoughts. "You know I take s-s-special interest in your case." He ignored the humorless snort from the younger man. "I knew that there w-would come a time when the medicine would l-loose it's effectiveness. If I can suggest an… ah, alternative t-t-treatment."

Nero's head shot up. "What is it?" He hadn't quiet managed to erase the desperation in his voice. "Whatever it is – I'll do it!"

"Y-y-you've heard of 'fighting fire with fire'? It is of the same p-principle." Agnus said. "As you know, there are many different types of powers and abilities in the demon realm. With the increase in demon presence, we've come across a specimen that may just be the p-p-perfect solution to your problems."

Nero couldn't find the words to express his horror.

"It's a symbiotic type." Agnus continued. "In return for survival in a stronger host, it offers a means of c-c-control - to the one with the strongest w-will. This demon will allow you to have some means to manage the flow and development of the changes, provided you are the more dominant mind in your b-body. Do you understand the risk?"

Nero was pale and there was something almost fragile about him as he stared sightlessly at his arm. Gloria didn't dare look away for a sudden fear that he would somehow disappear if she did.

"I wasn't going to b-b-bring it up at all." Agnus really thought he deserved an Oscar. Or a salary raise at the very least. "But due to the c-c-circumstances… I know of n-n-no other way."

"So, what will it be?"

Nero clenched his hands: both human and demonic, and opened his mouth to reply.

They arrived at Devil May Cry asthe pink neon sign had proudly proclaimed, a place that seemed to be a cross between an office lobby and an extension of Dante's house. A heavy wooden desk and a throne-like armchair commandeered the room, made of wood so dark and heavy it seemed to be carved of obsidian rock. All sorts of grotesque body parts and weaponry hung upon the walls, while a battered billiards table that looked like it had been glued back in half, a dented jukebox and half a drum set completed the room's décor.

Vergil marched in one of the backrooms as Kyrie sank on the vinyl couches in the corner of the room; grateful for the respite from the grueling pace he had set, especially after having run for so long. She slunk down deep into the leather folds of the jacket and resolved to exercise more.

Vergil had returned moments later, a dagger in hand.

"Hold this." He unsheathed it in one smooth motion, offering it to her blade first.

Kyrie blanched at the rust colored stain that traced its otherwise gleaming edge. "I, um, would prefer not to if it's all the same with you…"

He moved so quickly, her eyes couldn't follow him. One moment he had been standing before the coffee table, a reserved distance away; the next he was looming on top of her, face so close the tip of his nose near brushed hers. She heard plaster crack at the impact as Vergil's hand slammed against the wall behind her, trapping her within the enclosure of his arms.

His eyes were a clear and beautiful blue, deep and endless. She couldn't look away even if she had wanted to.

"Kyrie," He growled softly, and his breath brushed against her lips, warming her throat. "Hold the damn thing."

She shivered and wordlessly held out her hand.

His gaze never once leaving hers, he gently laid the dagger against her waiting palm.

Vergil pushed himself upright and rubbed at his temple as if that would stave the migraines away.

"Let it go and I'll sick Dante on you." He threatened, dropping unto the other armchair. He closed his eyes a moment and took a deep breath, the tired lines on his eyes and forehead shadowed against the cheap fluorescent lighting.

"You are a demon magnet."

Whatever she had been expecting him to say that was certainly not it. Kyrie's confusion was clear: "...I beg your pardon...?"

Vergil merely continued.

"There are people who go their whole lives without a demon encounter, and there are those whose lives are saturated with it. You must have realized it but your abilities have begun to awaken." He spoke quietly but Kyrie found she could pick up every syllable, every nuanced tone in the dark velvet voice. "Most humans spend their life deaf, blind and dumb – shutting out what does not fit in the definition of their ideal world, even when it may prove fatal to them. But there are some anomalies; some who are more attuned to the differences, whether by choice or chance. Demon Magnets are one of those anomalies. Humans who… feel different. Who attract demons and call attention and interest just by being. This trait often lies dormant until the target hits puberty or there is some sort of catalyst."

It was fantastical. It was ridiculous. What he was suggesting just. Couldn't. Be.

"But…" Kyrie's mouth was dry and she had to try again. "But why have I never heard about them beforehand…?"

"Their survival rate is not high." Vergil finished evenly, and she swallowed.

Of course. What else could one expect when a demon shows 'interest'?

Vergil continued. "You might have ancestry, or perhaps by some unfortunate mutation you are a holy maiden dormant. It deals mainly with purity of both bloodline and the physical sense. Have you ever had sex before?" His bluntness made her face hot.

Of course, Dante chose this time to enter the agency. He gave a small laugh as he took a seat atop the desk. "Well, this is my kind of conversation. Carry on."

Kyrie squirmed. "T-that… I… um, no, but that's…"

"Then your abilities may be especially potent." Vergil continued smoothly. "Holy maidens hold a plethora of potential for trouble. If you've read any history or mythology, you would know: they are used as sacrifices, to break and create seals, as brides and gateways as bearers of both gods and demons. Virgins in particular are prized for the fact that they're so imprintable."

"It's not as horrible as he's making it out to be." Dante decided to give Kyrie a break. "Lady herself was a candidate and had a bad run in with someone wanting to use that particular skill, but look at her now: alive, if on the trigger-happy side."

"There are many ways for these abilities to manifest. Some are clairvoyant; others have sealing, healing or summoning abilities. In your case, you are a Magnet." Vergil fell easily into his task as an instructor. "Nature runs survival mechanisms. One of which paradoxically allows the Magnet to create a bond with a Demon, who feels obligated to protect said Magnet."

His gaze bored into her own and Kyrie felt her stomach clench in sudden horror and knowing. Vergil enunciated the next words clearly.

"During your run in with the Hell Pride, you called for help and I, for a lack of a better word, answered."

"No," Kyrie's head spun. "That doesn't make sense! If what you're saying is true then that would mean that you… you are…"

"A demon, yes." He confirmed, ignoring his brother as he piped up 'Half-demon!' from across the room.

A demon? The ones that her brother and Nero had spent all their lives protecting the people from? The ones that Dante and Vergil themselves hunted? The teachings of the Order had said that there were some exceptions, but also warned that most of them were bloodthirsty, followers of evil, who killed, destroyed and dealt misery on people for no other reason than because they loved it. Those demons?

And as someone who could 'bond' with one, what did that make her?

"Can you prove it?"

Vergil had expected this request and gave a short nod. He paused a moment, making sure he was calm, methodically going through his mental defenses, tightening and reinforcing. He gestured for her to drop the weapon and Kyrie did so, seeing Dante flinch somewhere in her periphery.

Vergil had pulled off his gloves and held out his bare hand for her to take. Hesitantly, she reached out and rested her fingertips against his.

And then…

It was unspeakably complicated and laughably simple. Like the fury of revenge, the sweetness of forgiveness, the sorrow of a parting and the hope of a promise; a little like falling love. Vergil met her gaze and knew then: she felt it too. She understood. She believed.

He pulled away quickly before he could be tempted to fall deeper in.

Kyrie was more prepared for the separation this time, but still her chest heaved for air that couldn't seem to get where it was needed, aching to be whole again.

"Take the dagger." Vergil was glad that his voice had managed to remain steady.

Kyrie obeyed and tried to gather her composure.

"Actually, I had formed my own theories about this." She had folded her hands across her lap, eyes serious and dark with thought. "With your prowess with the sword and your penchant for saving people, I thought maybe… you're a hero." She met his offended look with a smile. "Other than that, we were friends in our past lives. Or even, kindred souls while we were in heaven. It may even be… be infatuation," Her voice wavered with nervous shyness, a sweet, lilting flute note. "Or maybe one of us died owing the other a favour – one that demands fulfillment even now. Or perhaps… a second onset of puberty?"

She threw him a sideways glance then, and was relieved to see the amused curl of his lips.

"Kyrie." She tried not to shiver at the way he said her name, all caress and familiarity, like an old love song in two syllables.

It wasn't fair. Every time he did this 'magnet' thing her heart would stop and she would want him more than anything she had ever wanted in her entire life. Why did he seem so unconcerned, so unaffected …?

"Puberty." She interrupted him nervously, suddenly filled with a need to say something - anything at all - to keep him from talking her knees into goop. "Most definitely puberty. Although I was most hoping that the past-life friend scenario or even the favour one would hold true. But what kind of favour would I have owed you? I mean - "

"Kyrie." Vergil looked disapproving but she continued to babble even as the logical part of her mind could only stare on, mortified.

"… I hope it was something dramatic like you saving my life. But it could very well be that you owe me something in our past life. Though I don't see myself as doing anything more amazing than baking you some gingersnaps. I'm very good with gingersnaps, you know – or at least I hope you do. Have you eaten any of the cookies I left –"

"Ky-"

"…it goes so well with hot milk or tea, and, um, could you not say my name? Please? It's very distracting and – so anyway, back to the, um, cookies - "

Dante's grin had stretched up to obscene heights and Kyrie resisted the urge to keel over and die on the spot.

"Oh! This Magnet situation wouldn't happen to have any side-effects would it? Like babbling? I'm not usually a babbler but I think I…" She seemed to give up then, resorting to burying her face in her free hand, face cherry-tomato red. "…want to die now."

"Kyrie." Vergil's voice was steel covered velvet, flashing into riposte, underlayed with amusement. "Puberty does not become you."

She raised her head and gave him a look, all deer-in-the-headlights before she burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry." She wiped her eyes. "I'm so sorry. That was really very embarrassing but I think I'm very nervous. Oh my. I'm a Demon Magnet."

Dante himself was chuckling while Vergil let out a small sigh. At least there were no further signs of denial, even if he could do without the hysterics.

"So, what else should I know?" Kyrie sat up; the remains of her blush still bright against her cheeks. "Does holding weapons do anything?"

"It's the silver that does the trick. Silver tends to negate a lot of different types of energy, if not as well as holy water." Vergil was grateful for the return of the conversation into less embarrassing territory. "There is very little other information available; we'll have to explore most of the implications of this on our own."

"So on to our proposal: come with Verge and I to an all-expense paid learning trip to find out about your Magnet-ness." Dante jumped in and explained about the plan they had decided upon so far.

For a while Kyrie was still, but Vergil understood her silence. Whatever Dante had said about choices was euphemistic at best. There was no choice here: it was go and preserve your life or stay and put yourself and everyone else in danger.

"I understand." Kyrie rose to her feet. "I'll call my brother and – "

"No." Dante's voice was unusually kind. "I doubt your family will be welcoming of such a fact. We need to get this under control as soon as possible in as safe a manner as possible and that means the less people who know, the better."

For the first time, Vergil saw fear in her eyes.

"This isn't a very good joke." Kyrie whispered. "You… You're scaring me. My brother, Credo will be furious. He's strong and smart and is the Chief of the Or – "

"I hate to break it to you, Kyrie-doll, but we're strong too." Dante broke in quickly, hoping that his brother did not catch the almost-slip. "There is no point in pining your hopes on getting someone to come and leave unharmed."

"For once, Dante is right. Your abilities may very easily be subject to abuse. To be able to summon demons can be used in a multitude of ways." Vergil seemed to slip back into lecture mode. "Tell me, what can magnets do?"

Kyrie's grip tightened on the handle of the dagger, wavering between the gap of Dante's confrontational words and Vergil's passive ones. "They pick up metal, push away and…um… they can magnetize other metals…?"

"Indeed: they attract, repel and they also polarize. In this case you can enhance. Once upon a time, I picked a fight I knew I could not win." Vergil could feel his brother's gaze suddenly burning a hole at the back of his head. "I lost, was gravely wounded, and have been weakened since. The synchronization on Saturday did something… I feel stronger. Better than I have felt in such a long time. So understand this: the greater an asset you are, the greater a liability you pose as well."

Kyrie licked dry lips. "I understand. But you need to listen as well. I told you once; my brother and I are members of the Order of the Sword. There may be someone who can help us – "

"The Order?"

Too caught up at Vergil's willingness to share, Dante realized the slip too late.

"Hey, look – it doesn't matter where the kid is from, does it?" He tried to calm down his brother. "We've got enough complications without worrying about another one."

"And you knew?"

Vergil's tone was cold and flat; Dante winced at his mistake.

"I thought I had destroyed that shameful excuse of an organization before I left." Vergil's fingers closed, one by one around the hilt of his sword. "Were the demons their fault too? No, never mind; regardless of what you say, I have no assurance what you say will be true."

Dante tried not to wince at the accusation in his tone. "Oi, don't you have bigger things on your plate right now? How about we deal with this situation first before adding another one to your already very exciting life?"

Vergil rose to his feet, Dante mirroring his action. The air in the room was charged with tension so thick, Kyrie could've cut it with a muffin.

"You're asking me to hide?" Vergil enunciated each syllable with deadly grimness. "You're asking me to put up with their presence. To… ah, that's it. You want me gone from this place because they are here."

Suddenly, everything clicked into place: Dante's willingness to help, to use his contacts to 'assist' him, the jibe about Kyrie offering a means of power – it all made sense. His brother thought him a liability and wanted him gone.

Vergil had not expected anything less, but the realization pricked him anyway and fueled his rage.

"Have you learned nothing?" Dante looked exasperated. "What happened the last time you picked a fight you could not win?"

"I am not a coward." Vergil's lips twisted into a proud snarl. "I would rather die before I let them take me again!"

"YOU WON'T!" Dante roared. "I won't let them - I won't let you..!"

Vergil brought out his sword at the same time Dante ripped Rebellion out of its sheath. The two blades met in a show of sparks and a force so strong the tailwind sent paperwork whirling all over the room and lighter knickknacks tumbling. Kyrie pressed herself against the stairwell, eyes glued to the fight.

Gone all calm and composure, the two fought as if possessed. Vergil was all speed and minute precision; her eyes could catch only the shimmering after-image of his sword as cleaved through the air: strike, parry, twist and repartee in a blur almost too quick to comprehend. But Dante was strong. Whether by skill or experience, he knew just where to position his own sword and had no qualms about bringing his guns into the fight.

With a powerful blow, Dante managed not only to knock the sword out of Vergil's grasp, but the momentum carried through to slice past his older twin's left abdomen. Vergil staggered back with a grunt and Kyrie flinched as if she had been struck herself.

At first, she thought the fight to be over, but it seemed that neither one was content with it ending just yet.

"C'mon!" With a growl, Dante flung Rebellion away, the great sword spinning once to embed itself against the wall. He dropped a leg into a fighter's crouch, jerking his hand in a classic 'bring-it' gesture. "If you want to throw a tantrum, I'll be all the company you need; hell knows I've had the practice."

Ignoring his wound, Vergil grit his teeth and leapt at his brother. The swordfight became a brawl. Both men punching, kicking, head butting, clawing – drawing blood with tooth and nail as if that would sate the anger and grudges that had been allowed to accumulate and fester for so long.

Kyrie wanted to avert her gaze but found that she couldn't: it was the bloodiest, most violent, bestial thing she had ever seen, but somehow she felt more grief than horror at the two before her.

And then it was over.

Dante had managed to grasp Vergil by the lapel and drove himself forward in a head-butt that met his older brother's face with a sickening crunch. There was a rush of blood but Dante didn't even hesitate; he rammed his elbow unto Vergil's stomach, and when he doubled over, drove his fist unto the back of Vergil's neck. The older Sparda sank like a stone.

Dante rolled his unconscious brother over with a booted toe and docked him a final punch before rising to his feet, breathing still frightfully calm and even. He moved towards Kyrie then, face a grim mask, cheek flecked with his brother's blood – but his fingers on her own was gentle as he unwrapped her grip around the knife.

Kyrie noticed belatedly that she had gripped the blade instead of the hilt, though she wasn't certain whose blood it was that stained the handle.

"Kyrie." Dante thought to threaten, began to cajole, moved to bluster and was going to resort to bluff. But in the end, all he could do was beg.

"Please. Help him."

AN: Ohmy, this has got to be the longest one yet (you can blame Vergil for having his teacher-mode on~).