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The Devils Cry Chapter 2-10
Author: Eiahmon
Category: Devil May Cry
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.
10.
“This is so weird.” Alastair muttered under her breath as she, her uncle, and father trooped through the castle.
“What is weird?” Vergil asked quietly.
“This place is too empty.” Dante replied “That’s what.”
“It isn’t right.” Alastair agreed “If I were Mundus and I knew that there was a large unguarded gate under this castle, I would have the place swarming with lesser demons trying to keep anyone that came in here away from it.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to attract attention.” Vergil suggested “Wasn’t an entire village slaughtered near here? Maybe when the humans took notice, he thought that we would too, and he decided that it would be best to leave the place undefended.”
Dante smacked himself on the forehead. “Why in the hell didn’t I think of that?”
Vergil smirked. “Because you are the little brother, while I am the big brother.”
“Hey now..” Dante started, but he trailed off. “When was the last time we bantered back and forth like this?”
Vergil paused, his face thoughtful. “Truthfully, I have no idea. Certainly not since Dad died.”
Dante sighed. “I missed this more than I realized bro.”
Vergil nodded. “Me too.”
“I hate to break up this touching moment.” Alastair said impatiently “but we do have a gate to find.”
Dante coughed, and Vergil shrugged his shoulders, both trying to hide their embarrassment. “Right.” Dante said “Let’s go then.” Vergil smirked.
“Any idea where this gate is?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Dante replied “I can think of no place where a gate would be specifically hidden.”
Alastair rolled her eyes; sometimes parents could be so stupid. “Well duh.” she said “How many gates have you two seen, or used? Several? Tell me, where were most of them located?”
Dante and Vergil smiled sheepishly. “Ground level.” Dante said. “Or lower.” Vergil added.
“Right.” Alastair said “So we find the basement. We find the basement; we find the gate. C’mon, let’s go; we don’t have all day.” She walked away, not waiting for a response. Dante and Vergil shook their heads.
“You can tell that she’s your daughter through and through.” Vergil pointed out.
“Trust me, I get reminded of that every day.” Dante replied with a wry smile. With a small chuckle, he followed his daughter down the dark corridor. Rolling his eyes, Vergil followed.
*****
Sparda sat down, looking warily at his former wife. He knew with a certainty that he was not going to like what she was going to say.
“Well,” he said impatiently when Atalia remained quiet “what is it?”
“It’s about something else that your brother has done.” she said quietly “And something that someone else did in response to his actions.”
Sparda’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.” he said shortly.
“Do you remember the LeFant family?”
“Yes, I gave them my book. What about them?”
“About a year ago, Luxian slaughtered the entire family, everyone but one person, an eighteen year old girl, who escaped because she was out in Paris for a day with her boyfriend. When they returned to find the dismembered corpses of her family, she made the same mistake that I made all of those years ago and blamed her boyfriend for what happened, without really giving him a chance to explain himself.” Atalia closed her eyes; she had been such a fool then.
“Continue.” Sparda said gently.
“Your grandson, Vergil, was the boyfriend that took the blame for what happened. He had held off telling his girlfriend, Adele, that he was related to you, fearing that she would break it off with him if she knew. When her family was killed she blamed it on him and his inaction in telling her the truth. The breakup devastated him, and Mundus used the opportunity to send the child horrible nightmares, nightmares that were only stopped by his father blocking the connection.”
Sparda’s eyes narrowed. “She blamed him for not telling her, when it should have been obvious that he is a relative of mine.”
Atalia nodded. “Yes.”
“Then she is a fool, and he is better off without him.”
“We have told him that, but he still feels guilty over what happened. And we can all tell that he still loves her and wants her back in his life.”
Sparda sighed; he knew that feeling all too well. When Atalia had joined him in the human world, she had stayed close to him just long enough to pick up the language and learn her way around humans, then she had left to live her own life. The two of them had not even tried to patch things up between them. The breach between them was permanent and could never be repaired.
Atalia rose from her seat and leaned forward and kissed Sparda lightly on the forehead. She then swept out of the library to go visit her family.
Sparda sighed again, and rose from his chair. He still had research to do, and time was running short. As he walked back over to the bookshelves, he glimpsed a small stack of books sitting on the table near where Atalia had been sitting. On top of the stack was a note
Thought that you might need these. Hope they help. Atalia.
A smile curving his lips, Sparda sat down and started to read.
*****
“Where in the hell is that damn gate!” Dante snarled in frustration as he, Vergil, and Alastair combed the castle’s large basement.
“It’s not down here.” Vergil said, inspecting a few dust covered crates that were stacked in a corner.
“It’s down here.” Alastair replied with certainty “I know it is.”
“How do you know?” Dante wondered skeptically.
“Because in those damned dreams, I could always hear a rumbling coming from somewhere below the castle. That gate IS down here; we just need to find out where.” She looked over at the two men. “Do you two remember ANYTHING from when you lived here as kids?”
Vergil shook his head. “It’s a complete blank. I can’t remember anything.”
Dante leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t really remember anything either, but I can feel things trying to break through. I’m willing to bet a year’s pay that when they do, I’ll probably pass out.”
“Well, if there is nothing to find going down,” Vergil said “then we have to go up.”
Dante stepped away from the wall. “Sounds good to me. Frankly this place is starting to give me the creeps. It’s too damn quiet.”
Vergil smirked. “Wuss.”
“Hey now, I resent that remark. Don‘t make me kick your ass.”
The elder twin rolled his eyes. “Like you ever could before?”
“Hey! I stomped you plenty times back on the Temen-ni-gru and Mallet Island.”
“They don’t count because I don’t remember.”
“How damn fair is that?!”
“Will you two just get moving!” Alastair snapped. The twins’ argument was abruptly cut off as her words echoed loudly against the bare stone walls, making them wince in unison.
“Methinks the lady is scared.” Dante said, raising his right eyebrow.
“Methinks you may be right.” Vergil added, raising his left eyebrow.
“Oh, piss off, the both of you.” Alastair growled, stomping back up the steps to the upper floors “Get your asses up here!” The brothers chuckled and followed her.
They came out behind a frayed tapestry in the main hall. Dante brushed a stray cobweb from his hair and looked around, seeing the main staircase off to their right.
“Going up then?” he said lightly, his voice shaking slightly and betraying his sudden nervousness. He didn’t know why, but he knew that going upstairs would break the block on his memories. He looked over and met Vergil’s gaze, and the two silently communicated their thoughts like they had when they were children. Dante knew immediately that the block on Vergil’s memories was far stronger and would likely survive mostly intact, no matter what they saw. Swallowing hard, Dante walked towards the staircase, not waiting to see if his brother and daughter were going to follow him. He had to see the rest of the castle; he had to reclaim what he had forgotten.
Once at the top of the stairs, he paused, unsure as to where to go.
“Go straight.” Alastair said quietly from somewhere behind him. Nodding, he went straight ahead, through a set of double doors and into a comfortably furnished room. Dante stopped just inside the door, taking in the shelves of books, the two small toyboxes in one corner, and the child size table and chairs beside the toyboxes.
“Mom refused to get rid of them.” he said quietly “Even after we became too old to use them anymore. The four of us used to spend our evenings in here, talking, playing games, or just doing our own thing and enjoying each other’s company. Remember, Verg?”
Vergil shook his head. The last year or so were the only memories that were clear in his mind. Everything else was either a foggy haze, like the Temen-ni-gru, or gone altogether, like his childhood and Mallet Island. He looked around the room, seeing the knick knacks that were scattered about on various shelves and on the fireplace. He assumed that his mother had collected them, but he couldn’t remember. He let his gaze wander over the walls, seeing the family portrait over the fireplace. There he and Dante were, seeming to be no older than eleven or twelve. There was their father, his hair slicked back, his clothes elegant and impeccable. He wasn’t sure, but he had the strangest feeling that his father always dressed in such a way. And his mother...!
Vergil let out a strangled cry and staggered back away from the fireplace. He knew that face!
“Vergil!” Dante cried, seeing his brother’s fear and distress “What is wrong?!”
“N... n...no! Not her! It’s not her!” Vergil turned and fled the room “Keep her away from me!”
Dante and Alastair spared one alarmed glance at each other before they chased after the elder Sparda twin..
Vergil tore down the hallway, ignoring the burning in his lungs, not paying attention to the protests of his still weak leg muscles. He did not see his surroundings, he did not realize that he was fleeing down an empty hallway in a potentially dangerous castle. He only knew that he had to get away from that face. The face that he still saw in half remembered nightmares, the face that had tormented him for years. He did not hear his brother calling for him; he did not hear Alastair shouting for him to stop and wait for them. All he could hear were the screams in his head, his own screams, emitted as the owner of the face inflicted endless pain and suffering on him, laughing as she did so.
Mommy, please stop! he had wailed then Please don’t hurt me anymore! But the face had only sneered at him and laughed as its owner had beaten and tortured him for hours on end.
Running blindly through the corridors, not noticing the tears that were falling from his eyes and flowing back into his hair, he came to a door and stopped for only a second before pushing it open and running in. He knew somehow that this room would be safe, that no one could hurt him in here. He threw himself onto the bed and buried his face in the dusty pillows, before breaking down into sobs. He didn’t hear Dante and Alastair run into the room a moment later. The next thing that he was aware of was strong arms gathering him up and cradling him like a child. He wrapped his arms around that person’s neck, seeking some form of comfort, laid his head on whoever’s chest and wailed. He barely noticed the soothing words that were murmured, the hand that stroked his hair, or the fact that he was being gently rocked back and forth. The only thing that he was aware of was that he felt safe, really truly safe.
After awhile, his tears dried up and the strain of running and crying began to catch up with him, and he began to fall asleep in the person’s arms. He heard two voices speaking, something about letting him rest here for a while as he was laid down on the bed.
“Rest Vergil.” a voice said soothingly “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Vergil, he thought vaguely as he drifted off. That’s me. My name is Vergil.
*****
Sparda snapped his head up just before it hit the book with a thud. He blinked his eyes, reminding himself forcefully that full demons like himself didn’t need that much sleep. Of course, spending nearly half a century imprisoned with regular torture sessions for several of those years would force him to sleep more often, but he was going to ignore that little fact. He had too much to do and not enough time to do it.
“You should go to bed, you know.” a voice said with amusement, startling him so badly that he nearly fell out of his chair. He spun around to look at the doorway to the library to see his grandson standing there, casually leaning against the doorframe, an amused smile playing about his lips.
“You scared the hell out of me, Vergil.” Sparda said with a half relived sigh that it wasn’t anyone that he would have to fight. Like Luxian for example.
The young man smirked. “Wouldn’t that make you cease to exist or something?” he asked. Sparda looked at him for a moment, before he broke into laughter at the joke.
“I suppose it would.” he said with a smile. He gestured to the chair next to him. “Why don’t you come in and sit down.”
Vergil strolled in and sat in the offered chair. He laid his head down on the table and sighed.
“Are you alright?” Sparda asked.
“I’m okay. I’m just a little worried about my father and my dad.”
“I assume that when you say ‘dad’ you’re are referring to Dante?”
“Yeah, he the only parental figure that I can remember. I would hardly call Luxian the parenting type.” The three quarter demon shuddered.
“No,” Sparda hissed “One wouldn’t, would they?”
“I assume that you’re not happy with your brother right now?”
“That would be the understatement of the century. The only reason I haven’t killed him for what he did to you and your father is that our father would not be able to bear losing another child.”
“Another child? Did one of your brothers or sisters die?”
Sparda nodded. “My sister Areceli was killed just after my defection.”
“Why?”
“To set me up.”
“Set you up? How? Why?”
“To keep my dear-” Sparda voice practically dripped sarcasm “brother under Mundus’ control. If Luxian believed that I had killed our beloved baby sister, then he would do whatever it took to bring me down, even going as far as to murder my wife and kidnap my son.”
“Yes, Luxian is a bastard. So what are you going to do about him?”
“I don’t know yet. And now, let’s get off of this subject. Tell me about your father and uncle.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How has your father been since his escape?”
Vergil shook his head. “Not so good. When he came back to us, he was so frail and weak, it seemed that a good gust of wind would break him in two. He had horrible nightmares that kept him awake all hours of the night and day. He could barely eat without making himself sick, and we often had to force feed him to keep him from starving himself. For several weeks he hid up in his room, only coming down when I forced him to. He was just so scared.” Vergil swiped at a tear that had decided to appear. “He didn’t like to be touched, and he would sometimes just burst into tears at random moments for no apparent reason.”
Sparda winced. “How is he now?” he asked, afraid of the answer, but hoping that things would be better for his older son.
“Some things are better. He’s gotten a little stronger, but he’s still fairly weak. The nightmares have slacked off some, but they haven’t stopped. He really hasn’t gained any weight, and he still looks sickly. He still dislikes being touched, but he will let me and Alastair touch him if he has fair warning that we are there. He is a little scared to let Dad touch him.”
“And I take it things are not good between your father and uncle?” Sparda asked. Vergil snorted. “Probably not now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dad and Alastair were at the office when the house was attacked. I herded my father into the weapons room, and I fought them with everything I had, but there was just too many of them. One of them got me,” He rubbed his chest where he had nearly had his heart torn out. “and I fell back into his arms. I lost consciousness right after that. I know that Dad will blame him for me getting taken. Dad has been somewhat hostile towards him ever since he came to live with us.”
“Why?”
“For things that he has done.”
“The Temen-ni-gru and others?”
“Yeah, even though he really can’t remember them. Dad doesn’t buy what Auntie said about something having been taken from Father, and that that something is responsible for his behavior.”
Sparda looked sharply at his grandson. “Did she say what was taken?”
“No, why?”
“I will be back shortly.” The Sparda patriarch rose from his chair and strode angrily from the library. He followed the hallways to his brother’s room, his thoughts running in furious circles. He knew what had been taken from Vergil; it was the only thing that would cause such a radical personality change.
He reached Luxian’s bedroom and kicked the door down.
“LUXIAN!” he roared, causing the younger demon to sit up in bed, suddenly wide awake. He caught sight of his obviously enraged brother standing in the door and gulped nervously. Things were about to become painful for him...
Sparda marched over to his brother’s bed and snatched from under the blankets by the collar of his shirt.
“Where is it?!” he roared “Where did you put it?!”
“I d, d, don’t k, know what you’re talking about.” Luxian stuttered.
“Don’t lie to me! You know full good damn well what I’m talking about! Now, tell me where you put it, or so help me, I will gut you inch by damned inch! And you WILL be conscious the entire time!” He twisted the collar of Luxian’s shirt in his hands, squeezing the younger demon’s neck and allowing him only the barest amounts of air. He then summoned their father’s Ensouled to hand. Luxian’s eyes boggled out at the sight of the sword and the murderous glint in Sparda’s eyes.
“Mundus has it!” he screamed as Sparda brought the sword up “It’s in his throne room!”
Sparda let go of Luxian’s shirt, letting the younger demon fall to the floor in an ungraceful heap. The sword disappeared so quickly from sight that Luxian wondered briefly if it had ever been there to begin with. Sparda smiled at him, a smile that held no warmth, only promises of future pain.
“Good boy.” he said “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, get back into bed, go back to sleep, and none of this ever happened. Understood?”
Luxian nodded, knowing that protesting could very likely get him killed. Sparda smiled again and walked out of the room without another word.
*****
Vergil blinked and opened his eyes. He groggily sat up, sneezing twice as he did so, causing him to wonder briefly why he was covered in dust. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and only succeeded in kicking up more dust and making himself sneeze again.
“It’s about time you woke up, bro.”
Vergil sat up and looked over in the far corner of the room to see Dante sitting there in a chair by the cold fireplace, his sword over his lap. Then Vergil remembered why he was in there: the painting, the face, the fear.
“It wasn’t her.” he told himself quietly “It wasn’t her.” He started to shake again. He heard Dante get up from the chair and come towards him. His brother’s hand came down gently on his shoulder.
“It was Mom, Vergil. Do you remember her?”
Vergil shook his head; he had no memories of that face other than the ones of being tortured.
“She never would have hurt you, Vergil. She never did hurt you. She loved you.”
Vergil shook his head. He couldn’t believe it; he wouldn’t believe it, not until he had some proof of it. Until then, he would keep his distance from that face. It was the only way he could be sure that she would not be able to hurt him again.
The door creaked open, Alastair’s head appeared. “Is he awake yet, Dad?”
“Yeah,” Dante replied “he’s awake.” He looked over at his brother. “Are you ready to go, Verg?”
“Just a moment.” Vergil said, trying to collect himself and stop his shaking. After a few moments, he had himself under some semblance of control, and he climbed off the bed.
“Let’s go.” he said quietly. He walked towards the door, but Alastair’s voice stopped him.
“What happened, Uncle Vergil?” she asked “What did you see?”
“I... I can’t speak of it now.” he replied “I just can’t. Please don’t ask me again.” Then he pushed her aside and stepped out into the hallway. She looked at Dante, who shrugged. Alastair shrugged back, and followed her uncle down the hallway. Dante followed.
The trio continued down the hallway, and Dante noticed that they seemed to be retracing their steps from earlier, going back towards the family room where Vergil had panicked at the sight of the portrait, or rather, at their mother’s face in the portrait. He didn’t know if Vergil knew where he was going or if he was just walking blindly. So when Vergil suddenly stopped, Dante was a bit surprised; did Vergil remember something?
Vergil reached out and lightly touched the door in front of him. There was something about this room that was special; he couldn’t remember exactly what at the moment....!
“This was our playroom.” he said quietly. Dante looked at him.
“Do you remember something, bro?” he asked. Vergil shook his head.
“No,” he said “It’s a feeling, like I’ve been told about it but never actually seen it before.”
“I’ve seen this room.” Alastair added “In my dreams.”
“Then let’s go in.” Dante said.
Vergil nodded, and lightly pushed against the heavy oak of the door, causing it to swing open on hinges that squeaked only a little. Taking a deep breath, he stepped over the threshold, with Alastair close behind him. Dante went to follow them, but paused. He could feel his memories pushing against the barrier that held them back. He didn’t know if going into this room would destroy that barrier, but he had no doubt that it would at least weaken it considerably. And, after forty-five years of having no memories of his childhood, he wasn’t sure if he wanted them back. If things had been so bad that his mind had blocked them out, did he really want to remember what happened here, the night his mother had been murdered?
“Dante? Are you coming?”
Well, he told himself, If your brother can face it, so can you. Steeling himself, Dante walked inside.
Chapter 9 -- Chapter 11
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