The Devils Cry Part 2-7

[eiahmon]

Title: The Devils Cry Part 2
Game: Devil May Cry
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and it’s characters and situations are the sole property of Capcom. I am making no money or profit off of this fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended. On the other hand all original characters and situations are mine so please don’t run off with them without my knowledge or consent.
Summary: A year after the events in “The Devils Cry”, things in the Sparda family have calmed down, well, as much as possible with them at any rate. But when strange things start happening, including a reappearance of Alastair's dreams of the unknown castle, they realized that they still have a long way to go.
SPOILER WARNING!!!: Spoilers for all three Devil May Cry games.

7.

Dante and Alastair were forced to duck their heads and raise their hands to protect them from the flying shards of demonic metal. Luxian was not so lucky and several shards embedded themselves in his face and neck, making him howl in rage and pain. A silvery mist rose from the shattered remnants of what had once been the Alastor sword and coalesced to take on a human shape. Dropping their hands, Dante and Alastair watched in shock as it solidified to form a tall, pale skinned man with waist length hair the color of molten silver, who caught Luxian’s Ensouled in both of his elegantly fingered hands and held it firm, despite the full demon’s attempts to pull it free.

“You shall not harm the father of my grandchild,” it said firmly in a commanding voice “the bearer of my Ensouled.”

“Move out of the way.” Luxian growled, trying to wrench his sword free from the man’s grip. He recognized the silver hair, which marked this man as a member of the Valters family, but he did recognize him nor did he know his name.

On the ground, Dante was frantically searching his memory. He too had seen such silver hair before, and he was trying to think of where. He glanced over Alastair, and he froze as her mother’s face, framed by silver hair, popped to the forefront of his mind. Sirce had been from the Valters family, all of which had hair the color of metallic silver, as well as the ability to control lightning and water. And this mysterious demon - Dante could sense his demonic aura - had called Alastair his grandchild. He choked when he realized that the demon was speaking the truth, and that Alastair was related to him somehow.

Alastair was thinking about something else entirely. The demon had said that she was the bearer of his Ensouled. She had always known that the Alastor sword was an Ensouled, she could easily sense the soul within, which gave the blade, and her, it’s power. She also knew that Ensouled weapons were traditionally named after their creator. That meant...!

“Alastor!” she breathed in awe, looking up at the silver haired figure that was standing between her father and Luxian. He tilted his head in her direction, acknowledging her, but he kept his eyes locked on Luxian.

“Who are you?” Luxian demanded “Don’t you know who I am?”

“You are a son of the Sparda family.” Alastor said calmly, still holding the flat of the blade between his hands “As to who I am, I am Alastor Valters, the creator of the sword you have just destroyed.”

Luxian nearly dropped his sword as his jaw fell open in shock. He had heard of Alastor Valters before, and he was a legend among the demons and humans. He had been unusually powerful for a Valters, which had been attributed to him having blood from virtually ever other demon family flowing through his veins.

“Leave now.” Alastor said “You have no business here.” He released the sword and stepped back, keeping himself between Luxian and Dante.

“I have my orders.” Luxian growled “I am to destroy the last of the human Sparda blood.”

“I cannot allow that.”

“Why are you protecting that half breed?! He’s an insult to the Sparda name!”

“I’m sure your father would think differently. Now leave; this is your last warning. I will not allow any harm to come to those whom my grandchild holds dear to her.”

Luxian snarled and raised his sword to strike the insolent demon before him.

Before the blade could touch Alastor, however, he disappeared and Luxian found himself flying across the street to land in an undignified heap several feet away. He hastily got to his feet to see that Alastor standing where he had reappeared, lightning flickering across his fingertips.

“I said leave, Luxian Sparda.” Alastor said dangerously “I’ll not say it again.”

Luxian looked warily at the silver haired demon. He was in a quandary. His orders from Mundus had been clear; he was to capture Larcersa and destroy Dante, Alastair, and Vergil. He had sent another team to capture Larcersa, so he could take care of the half breed and his daughter personally. If he returned with Larcersa, then Mundus might overlook the fact that the other three blood traitors were still living and let his father live. The news that Alastor Valters had come out of his sword might work in his favor as well. Now if he only had news on the attack on Larcersa’s home was going...

“My lord,” Perfect, Luxian thought as he turned around to face the messenger.

“It had better be good news.” he growled.

“We have the boy, Lord Sparda.”

“Wonderful. Return to the Underworld at once.” Turning back to Alastor, who was still standing protectively in front of Dante and Alastair. Raising his sword in a mock salute, he called out to them:

“We shall finish this later! I shall send your son your well wishes!” He laughed when he saw the half breed’s face lose its color as he realized the meaning of Luxian’s words.

Gathering his power, Luxian opened up a dimensional rip that would allow him to walk straight through to the location of the gate that he had used to get into the human world. Passing through the portal he saw the half breed try to run after him, only to be caught by the Valters, just before the portal closed.

*****

“Why did you stop me?” Dante snarled. “That bastard has my son!”

“Your son is more than likely already in the Underworld.” Alastor said calmly “If that is true then there is nothing that you can do for him at the moment. You have other things that must be attended to first.”

“My children are all that I have left!”

Alastor finally turned to face them, catching and holding the half demon with his gaze. Dante thought that he detected a hint of disappointment in the demon’s electric blue eyes.

“And what of your brother?” Alastor asked “Does he not mean anything to you? Your father broke long standing demonic tradition in allowing the two of you to live. Are you going to just throw that away?”

“Hold up! What are you talking about? What demon tradition?”

“It has always been tradition to kill twins whenever a pair are born. It is believed that twins bring bad luck down upon a demon family. Sparda was one of the first demons ever to defy this tradition.”

Just then Alastair shook off her shock at seeing THE Alastor speaking so calmly to her father, and jumped to her feet.

“He’s right, Dad. What about Uncle Vergil? We have to make sure he’s alright!”

Alastor smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Your heart is in the right place, child.” She looked up at him.

“Are you really my grandfather?” she asked, an eager look shining in her eyes.

“Not quite, child. My granddaughter Sirce is your mother, and I must say, I am severely disappointed in her for leaving you and for putting Mundus ahead of her child.”

“So that makes you my great-grandfather then?”

He nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well that explains why the sword always liked me so much.”

“And why it didn’t stab you in the chest like it did me.” Dante grumbled.

“I had to make sure you were worthy, Sparda.” Alastor smirked.

Alastair’s expression fell. “But now what am I going to do? I need another sword, and don’t think that any other would feel right.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, child. I can still be your weapon.” With that he kissed her softly on the top of her head, which made her start in surprise, then he turned back into mist and flew down to the shattered remnants of his Ensouled. As they watched the shards and slivers of demonic steel began to join together and reform to take on the shape of the Sword of Vengeance. The mist then gathered, and flew down into the eyes of the dragon head that made up hilt and hand guard. Dante and Alastair watched as the metal eyes blinked once, twice, then glowed with a light the color of lightning before fading. The blade crackled with energy then was still.

Cautiously, Alastair approached it, bent down, and picked it up. The sword crackled with lightning again for a moment before calming. She took a few practice swings with it before returning it to its place on her back, where it stuck, without the aid of any sheath.

“C’mon Dad,” she said. “Let’s go check on Uncle Vergil.”

*****

Vergil was lying in his godmother’s arms, shaking like an earthquake. His son.... his son was gone. They had taken him. And he hadn’t been able to do anything to stop them! He had cowered in the corner as his son’s unconscious form was snatched right from his arms and carried away. He hadn’t even tried to stop them. He had been too scared.

Dante was going to kill him.

That is, if he didn’t kill himself first.

Once the younger Vergil had been taken out of the room, the demons had pounced on him, trying to rip him apart. He had realized that they were going to kill him instead of taking him to the Underworld, and he had felt some measure of relief at that. Still his survival instincts had demanded that he fight, and he had tried to fight, using his father’s other sword, but there had been too many of them, and he had been too weak. Only Rachel’s arrival had saved him. Using her magic and an assortment of short swords and knives, she had made short work of the demons in the house. Once they had been disposed of, she had carefully pried the sword from his hand and wrapped her arms around him. He had only barely managed to keep from bursting into tears.

He felt the demonic auras of his brother and niece entering the house just as his brother called out: “VERGIL!”

Vergil didn’t answer; he knew that it was his son that Dante was calling for, not him.

“Vergil! Either one of you would be fine!” This time it was Alastair who called.
 

“In here!” Rachel called in reply.

Running footsteps echoed through the house, and Vergil huddled even closer to his godmother, hoping that she would shield him from the worst of Dante’s temper.

Alastair was the first through the weapons room door, and she stopped and stared in shock at the wreck that was once their display and storage room. Sand and bodily fluids from various demons, shattered skeletons, metal and wooden limbs, knifes, swords, and other bladed weapons, and spent gun cartridges all littered the floor. The furniture was destroyed, and weapons were knocked off the walls, which were littered with bullet holes. They only thing in the room that was undamaged was the portrait of the white haired demon.

Dante ran in shortly thereafter, skidding to a stop mere inches from Alastair. His jaw fell open at the wreckage around him, and he stared around in shock at the carnage. Then his gaze fell upon his brother and godmother, and his eyes narrowed.

Vergil shakily got to his feet as Dante strode towards him, fury evident in every movement of his body. He had been too scared to face the demons, but he would face his brother like a man. Dante walked right up to his brother and, like a year before, he punched him right in the mouth, putting all of his strength behind it this time. Vergil flew backwards and slammed into the wall, going at least part of the way through it, taking out the plaster on both sides as well as two studs.

“You BASTARD!” Dante snarled in rage “Why didn’t you protect him?! Why didn’t you stop them?! WHY!” He reached into the hole in the wall, grabbed the front of his brother’s shirt and held him up off of the floor. “You damned coward! Did you just hand him over?! Did you stand there and laugh as he was carried away?!" He gave him a hard shake. "Was all of this an elaborate scheme to get back into your master's good graces? I bet that it was; you don't even feel any guilt for all that you've done!” He shook his brother again, causing the elder twin's head to snap back and forth.

“STOP IT!”

Dante stopped his angry words as Alastair appeared and grabbed a hold of his arms and tried to force him to release his brother. “Let go of him, Dad! You’re going to hurt him!”

“The more the better! Maybe pain will show him just how much I hate him right now!” He threw his twin to the floor, and spat on his bowed head. “I want you out of my house. Now.” he said in a deadly cold voice.

Vergil slowly got to his feet, and head still bowed, he began shuffling towards the door. He only made it halfway there when his shaking legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor.

“Get up, and get out.” Dante said, his tone still edged in ice. He made no move to help his brother as the elder twin struggled to stand back up. Alastair looked at her father, aghast at his behavior before hurrying over to her uncle and kneeling beside him. She whispered something to him that was too quiet to be heard. Then she draped his right arm over her shoulders, put her left arm around him and helped him to his feet and half carried him out of the room. Dante went to stop her, but Rachel’s voice, colder than he had ever heard it before, stopped him in his tracks.

“Dante.” He slowly turned to face her, just as her hand connected sharply with his cheek. He stared at her in wide eyed shock; she had never struck him before.

“I know that you are not stupid, Dante so I will only say this once.” she hissed angrily “Just what were you thinking? Your brother comes to you, seeking forgiveness for acts that were committed years ago, that he can only barely remember if at all, I might add, and you reward his effort by striking him and throwing him out of your house?”

“But he -!”

“He did nothing! He could not protect himself, much less his son! He is too weak. What was he supposed to do, Dante? Throw himself in front of Vergil for you? They would have cut him to pieces, and his son would have still been taken. There was nothing he could have done, so stop blaming him!” She huffed. “Now, gather what you need for a few days. The wards on this house have been destroyed, and it isn’t safe here. We will go to my apartment for the night.”
 

“I am going after my son.”

“You are going to do no such thing.” she said forcefully, jabbing him in the chest with her finger “We are all tired, and I imagine that your brother is in shock over what you said to him. We are going to my place. We will get cleaned up, eat, go to bed, then we will decide what to do. Am I understood, Dante Sparda?”
Dante growled. He didn’t have time to sit around and argue with her, but he acknowledged that she had the power to force him to obey her. Such magic was not pleasant to experience.

“Alright.” he acquiesced with another growl.

“Good, now go gather your things. I am going to check on your brother.”
With a sharp nod, Dante turned to walk out of the room, when he was overtaken by the strangest feeling. He stopped, wondering briefly if Rachel had used her magic on him anyway. But no, that would have smothered his ability to think for himself, and his thoughts were clear. He felt something within him stirring, feel it tingling through his blood. That tingling quickly turned to a burn, eliciting a gasp from him and driving him and driving him to his knees. Rachel looked down at him in concern as he felt something tearing free of his body, no, not his body, his very soul and leaving. He felt the brush of Rachel’s magic on him, then she gasped.

“Your signet ring!” she demanded “Where is it?” Still trying to keep himself together, he gestured to the storage cabinet, and she ran over to it and tore the doors open. No lock could win against demonic strength. She reached in and snatched something off of the shelf and returned to him. She held out a small black velvet box to him.

“Open it,” she said firmly.

With one shaking hand, he reached out, flipped the catch, and opened the lid. The heavy gold ring with the Sparda family crest was still within, resting on folds of black velvet. The ring was glowing, shaking slightly.

Dante had come by the ring suddenly at the age of eighteen. He remembered that his father had always worn it, even when he had gloves on. He had thought that it had been lost, along with his father’s body, but when he had turned eighteen, he had felt some strange magic invading his body and settling on his soul. It had been gentle and caressing, and the ring had suddenly appeared on his finger. He had worn it for a little over a year. What had made him take it off was the look in Vergil’s eyes when he had seen it in the Temen-ni-gru. He looked like he had been betrayed. From then on, whenever Dante had seen the ring, he had seen his brother’s eyes and the hurt within them. Finally he had taken it off, and put if away, unable to look at it anymore. He never looked at it again.

“The magic is shifting.” Rachel said. The ring flashed and vanished from the box. “It seems like someone else has become patriarch of the Sparda family. I hope for your sake that it’s not Luxian.”

“Good riddance.” Dante grunted as the magic left, taking the pain with it “I can’t stand to see that ring.” Rachel popped him on the top of the head.

“You idiot.” she snarled “Whoever has the patriarchy can force you to do whatever he wants! Why do you think Vergil tried to leave the room when it was obvious that he didn’t have the strength to do so? The magic was forcing him to obey you! If Luxian is patriarch, he could order you to kill yourself, and you would have to obey!”

“Why did it suddenly go to someone else?” Dante asked, getting to his feet. Rachel fixed him with a glare. “The magic goes to someone else if it sees the current holder as unfit to head the family.”

Dante swallowed heavily. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Go get your things.” Rachel said, her voice sounding suddenly tired “We’re leaving soon.” She walked out of the room, leaving him standing in the wreckage and silence of the weapons room.

*****

Alastair was sitting on the floor next to the living room couch. Her uncle was lying on the couch, his head pillowed on his arms, an afghan thrown over him. He was asleep, exhaustion plain on his face. She reached out and gently smoothed his hair back from his face. When they had left the weapons room, she had had to force him to the couch, as he kept trying to reach the front door. When he finally quit fighting her, she had to literally carry him to the couch as his legs just refused to carry him anymore. She laid him down and laid the afghan over him and sat down beside him to watch him.

She was so angry at her father. How could he have said such things? She knew that her uncle was too weak to fight, so how could he be expected to defend her brother against a horde of demons. Just walking up and down the stairs was enough to tire him out! Sighing she laid her head on the couch beside him. She was quickly coming to love the uncle that she never knew, and she hated to see him hurt. She felt warmth from the sword on her back and knew that Alastor was trying to reassure her. She smiled a little, appreciating the gesture.
 

“Alastair.” It was Rachel’s voice. “Is he alright?”

“He’s tired, and I would be willing to bet that he’s in shock.” Alastair looked up at the auburn haired demon. “How could Dad have been so cruel, Rachel?”

“Your father has quite the fair amount of issues to work through.” Rachel said softly “He keeps them hidden, unlike your uncle here, and they boil to the surface every now and then. Unfortunately, your uncle is at the heart of many of those issues.”

Alastair nodded, turning back to her uncle. That made some sense, but still...

“That still doesn’t make what he said right.”

Rachel slowly shook her head. “No, it doesn’t. You need to go gather some clothes and whatever else you might need for a few days. It’s not safe to stay here with the wards down. I’ll stay with your uncle.”

Alastair nodded. She gently touched the side of her uncle’s face and vanished upstairs to her room. Rachel sat down heavily on the floor and put her head in her hands, wondering how things had gone so horribly wrong.

Just under an hour later, the three of them, with Vergil sleeping in Alastair’s arms, were standing in the living room, preparing to leave. Dante looked over at his sleeping brother. A few minutes earlier, he had gone to pick Vergil up off the couch, only to be stopped by a furious snarl from Alastair. Glaring at him, she had easily scooped her uncle up into her arms without waking him and waited for Rachel to join them.

“How are we getting to your place?” Alastair asked softly, so not to wake the sleeping half demon in her arms.

“I’m going to create a portal to the alleyway behind it.” Rachel asked.
Dante raised an eyebrow; portals seemed to be the order of the day. He had the power and the skill to do so, of course, but he avoided using it whenever possible. It felt too wrong, too inhuman for his liking.

“Dante,” He looked up at his godmother’s voice. “Where is that book that your father wrote?”

“In the cabinet in the weapons room. Why?”

“Go get it. I have a feeling that we may need it.” He nodded and walked off, returning a few minutes later with the heavy book in his hands.

“Right.” Rachel said “Got everything?” Dante and Alastair nodded. “Good. Off we go then.”

Turning away from them, Rachel reached out in front of her and positioned her hands like she was trying to force open an elevator door. She pulled her hands apart, tearing open a rip in space, revealing the dark and dingy alley behind her shop. She gestured for Dante to go first, then Alastair. Once they were safely through, she stepped through, and it closed behind her, leaving the living room of the Sparda house silent and empty.

Chapter 6 -- Chapter 8

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