The Devils Cry Ch 1-6

[eiahmon]

Title: The Devils Cry Chapter 6
Category: Devil May Cry
Rating: PG-13
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 daughter’s dreams of a place that Dante doesn’t want to remember make him recall things that he had once tried so hard to forget as the skeletons in the Sparda family closet come out to play. Lost family history is revealed, and people once thought long gone return.
SPOILER WARNING!!!: Spoilers for all three Devil May Cry games.

6.

Four days went by, and Alastair and Dante were frantic. The sedative tea that let Vergil sleep peacefully was losing it’s effectiveness, just like Rachel had warned that it would. There were breaks between Mundus’ attacks but those were becoming shorter and shorter, and each time Vergil’s screams became more awful to hear, filled with more agony and horror every time.

Dante and Alastair took turns staying by him, trying desperately to soothe him, but they couldn’t even wake him up. The nightmares were awful, if his shrieks and screams were anything to go by. They could smell the guilt as it rolled off of him, and that scent became stronger whenever he was dreaming, giving them a pretty good idea was what he was dreaming about. Also when he dreamed, the aura around him changed, and Dante had no problem identifying the dark and dirty feel of Mundus. If Rachel was right about the whole power between parent and child thing, which she appeared to be since Dante had tried to block the connection and had failed, then the only person who could help Vergil was dead -

Are you sure about that, Dante?

- and the only thing they could do was hope that Mundus would stop before Vergil went insane. They had reached their four day limit, and they weren't sure how much more he could take.

******

PAIN.

That was all that he was aware of. Nothing but PAIN.

He gritted his teeth and tried not to scream as the skin was flayed from his back. He could hear Mundus laughing behind him, and he wasn’t sure which he hated more: the torture that he was currently undergoing, or that arrogant, pompous LAUGH! He so wanted to cut the devil’s tongue from his mouth. No wait, that wouldn’t work. He would still be able to laugh. Cut his vocal cords out? Ah, now there was an idea...

The multi-tailed whip stripped another section of skin from his back, reminding him that he had another problem to worry about. Like not bleeding to death or going insane again. Because of the collar around his neck that was completely repressing his demonic side, he healed at a normal human pace and had lost his ability to survive what would otherwise be mortal wounds. Before, Mundus or one of the other demons would heal him, as they didn’t want him to die. Now he wasn’t sure if they would heal him or not. Mundus had said he was going to destroy the human side of the Sparda family, and since he was already down here, well, they might as well start with him.

Though, despite the pain he had been in, he had noticed something that intrigued him. He could sense a faint trail of power leading from Mundus to somewhere unknown. If he was on the verge of unconsciousness, he could actually see the thin ribbon of black magic that wrapped itself around Mundus and trailed out of the room. He cried out when the whip struck him again, causing his vision to gray out around the edges. He was going into shock from the pain, several broken bones from an earlier beating, and the blood loss.

He glanced over in Mundus' direction, and he noticed that he could see the ribbon again. Curious about where it went, he was surprised when he moved closer to it. He looked behind him to see himself still chained by the wrists, being held upright, his eyes glazed over and his chin resting on his chest. He looked down at himself, wondering what was going on. He remembered vaguely that he had done this before to escape pain. Shrugging, deciding to take advantage of it while he could, he went over to the ribbon. He could feel the malevolence radiating from it, and he shivered. Reaching out, he carefully touched it and was surprised to see that it was the mind connection that Mundus had mentioned earlier.

The link that connected him to Vergil.

He would not be able to sever it, since he was in no shape to fight Mundus physically, but he should be able to block it. Reaching out with his own mind, he touched the ribbon, then immersed himself in it. The malevolence nearly overwhelmed him, nearly sending his soul fleeing back to his body. But he got a glimpse of what Mundus was sending to the young man, and he steeled himself. He reached out again and mentally stopped the one way flow from Mundus, sending instead something else entirely.

 

******

It was Dante’s turn to watch while Alastair was out picking up a pizza, when Vergil began to thrash and scream. He reached for the teacup to see that it was empty and cursed, knowing that he would have to go downstairs to refill to cup and leave Vergil alone. He thought briefly about tying the young man down, but he quickly dismissed that idea. Vergil was a traumatized young man, not a insane prisoner, and besides, he could just easily break the ropes. Dante leaned over the bed to gently try and shake him awake, but before he could, Vergil began to calm. His thrashing lessened and stopped, and his screams quieted to soft sobs then stopped altogether. After a few moments of quiet, he did something that shocked Dante. He smiled. Scratching his head in confusion, Dante took the opportunity to go downstairs and refill the cup, though he was fairly certain that it would no longer be needed.

******

Vergil had felt his heart fill with dread when Adele’s living room had materialized in front of him again. Once again, he was the one tearing the innocent humans apart as they screamed and begged for mercy. Tears ran down his face in streams, and he screamed along with them as he tried desperately to convince himself that he had done nothing wrong.

I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!

Once again, Adele appeared screaming hurtful words at him, and without hesitating, Vergil sliced her head off with the Yamato, still screaming at himself.

This isn’t me!

A hand abruptly came down on his shoulder from behind, and he spun around to kill that person too -

- and found himself staring at his dad.

No, he realized, not his dad. While this person had a strong resemblance, there were differences between them. Most notably was the suffering that was etched into every line in this man’s face and was shown clearly in his powder blue eyes. His face and hair - also silver white - were thinner and lines of pain were drawn around his mouth and eyes. He raised the Yamato - how dare this stranger interrupt him ?- only to find that it was not longer in his hands. The stranger now was holding it, cradling it almost lovingly, though his eyes never left Vergil’s blood soaked form.

“Who are you?” Vergil demanded. The person smiled slightly at the question, and Vergil suddenly felt the bloodlusting rage that had filled him drain away, leaving him calm and very tired.

“Who am I?” the stranger asked “Didn’t he tell you?” And suddenly, Vergil did know who he was.

“Uncle Vergil?” The elder Vergil frowned slightly at being addresses as “Uncle” but he nodded all the same.

“How? What? Why are you here?”

“Eloquent as the man that raised you, I see. To answer your question, these nightmares are being caused by Mundus playing on your guilt, and I am here to put a stop to them.”

“Mundus is causing these?”

The elder Vergil nodded again. “Yes, and only one who has the same Sparda blood as yourself can put a stop to them. So I am here. They will plague you no more.”

Vergil sagged with relief, fighting the urge to cry. “Thank you.”

“What happened to Adele’s family is not your fault, and she will come to realize this. If she doesn’t, then she is a fool, and you will be better off without her.”

“But I-”

“I know that you care about her. I know what it means to lose someone you care about, but if she cannot accept that you were not at fault, then she is not a person that you want to waste your life on.”

“I should have told her.”

 

His uncle shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe you should have. But since the legend of Sparda is so well known in that town, since he once lived there for a while, she should have been able to figure it out from your looks and your surname. She probably did know and chose to ignore it. That town is well aware of the risks involved in associating with a Sparda. If she foolishly thought that nothing would happen if she became close to you, then that is entirely her fault. Not yours.”

The elder Vergil’s face contorted with pain for a brief moment, and he faded a bit.

Vergil looked at him in alarm. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Looks like I have stayed here too long.” his uncle replied “Remember what I have told you, and I.... have to know. Has Dante told you the truth about me... and you?”

Vergil nodded.

“All of it?”

“He told me everything.... Father.“ The elder Vergil looked stunned at that for just a moment, then his face relaxed into a smile that wasn't sardonic or sarcastic, but a true smile.

“Good, I hate it when he takes credit for what I have done.” He smirked. “He was always good at that.” Another flash of pain crossed his face and he faded nearly out of existence. “I have to go now.” He reached out and gently touched the side of his namesake’s face. “I’m glad I got a chance to see how you’ve grown and how you turned out.”

Vergil looked down at himself, expecting to see blood and gore caking the clothes he had worn to the day in Paris. Instead, he was in his hunting clothes, and they were clean and free of blood. His hair was clean and free of tangles and pulled back into its usual tail. The Yamato too was back in it’s sheath on his right hip, and no blood stained it. He looked back up to see a contented half smile on the face of hid dad’s twin as he faded out and disappeared.
Adele’s living room began to fade out and dissolve...

...and he cracked his eyes open to see his dad and sister leaning over him.

“You back with us now?” Dante asked anxiously.

“I believe so.” he whispered, his voice dry and hoarse from what he guessed was hours of screaming. Alastair let out a relieved sob and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying her head on his chest.

“Don’t you,” she began “Don’t you ever, EVER do that again? Do you hear me, Vergil Achida Sparda? Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

Vergil let out a dry chuckle as his dad pulled Alastair off of him. “I won’t, I promise. Now um Dad, I could use some help with something.” He tried to sit up and found himself almost too wobbly to do it.

Dante looked at him, concern flashing in his eyes. “What is it?”

Vergil glanced over at Alastair, but it was obvious that she wasn’t leaving the room. “Um, I have to go to the bathroom.”

With a relieved laugh, Dante shooed Alastair away, and helped Vergil out of bed and to his feet.

******

Though by no means was he over his shock, grief, and guilt, Vergil was able to join Alastair and Dante downstairs for a quick dinner of pizza, salad, and Pepsi. Much to his chagrin and despite his many protest, his dad had insisted on carrying him down into the kitchen. After fussing over him and checking to make sure that his mind was still in one piece and functioning properly, Rachel left for home, but not before making them swear to call her if anything else came up.

Vergil was reluctant to bring up the visitor he had had in the dream, knowing that his dad avoided talking about his brother whenever possible, but he knew that if he didn’t bring it up, the knowledge of what had happened would drive him crazy. He also felt a faint sense of disapproval at his minor show of cowardice and realized that the elder Vergil was still around, blocking the pathway that Mundus used to send him the nightmares. That disapproval gave him to push he needed to open his mouth to speak. Only to close it again. He didn’t have the slightest idea on how to start. Fortunately, Dante spared him from having to figure it out.

“Vergil,” he began “What did you dream about that made you smile less than a minute after you were screaming your head off?”

“Uncle Vergil came to me.” he replied, twisting his napkin in his hands.

“What did he say?” Dante asked gently, guessing that the subject was a little touchy. He was also struggling to hold his shock over his brother visiting his son in a dream.

“He said that he was there to stop the dreams.” Vergil said, not looking at them, staring down at his napkin instead. “He said that he could do that because he and I have the same blood. He blocked the connection and said that the dreams would never bother me again.” Dante smiled.

“What else did he say?” Alastair asked eagerly “That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“He said that.... He....”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Dante cut in, giving Alastair a dark look. Alastair huffed.

“Fine.’ she said and returned to her pizza. Dante nodded at Vergil, and he smiled a weak smile in return. After they were done, Alastair said she was going to take a shower and hit the sack. Vergil and Dante tidied up the kitchen, and were putting the leftover pizza away when Vergil suddenly spoke up.

“He asked me if you had told me the truth about him and me.” He said it so quietly that Dante had to strain to hear him. He waited a moment before answering.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that you had told me everything. He smiled at me.”

“He smiled?” Dante was beyond surprised. He couldn't remember if his brother had ever smiled a true smile, yet he somehow knew that he had. He kept his surprise hidden though. He didn’t want Vergil to think that he didn’t believe him.

“Yeah. He said he was glad that he had gotten to see how I had turned out.” Vergil paused for a minute. “He said that it wasn’t my fault.”

For once Dante was in complete agreement with his brother.

“He’s right.” he said, putting a comforting hand of Vergil’s shoulder “Rachel had said that Dad had lived in that town for almost half a century. They had to have known about him. I’ve encountered demons that had never met him before, but they knew that I was related to him simply by looking at me. They knew that you were a relative. There is not way they could have not.”

“Oh!” Vergil dropped the empty pizza box that he was holding.

“What is it?”

“Adele -” Vergil had to swallow another lump in his throat. "- gave me something. She said it belonged to Grandpa Sparda.” One of Dante’s eyebrows went up.

“That book?”

“Yes, where is it?”

 

“I put it in the weapons room.”

 

“Let’s go get it. I need to look at it.”

Dante nodded. “Alright.”

Throwing the pizza box in the garbage, Dante wiped his hands off and followed Vergil out of the kitchen. He was dreading going into the weapons room again. When he had gone in there to put the book away, the Yamato had still been putting of the blue smoke of his brother’s power. He had forced himself not to look at it while he placed the book on an end table, not wanting to go anywhere near the cabinet. He hadn’t told Vergil yet about the sword’s antics, though Dante supposed, his uncle coming to him in a dream might explain why the sword was acting up. Then again, it might not. That sword had always been temperamental, even when Sparda had carried it.
Dante followed Vergil through the small hidden door and was surprised to see that no smoke was coming from the cabinet. The Yamato had evidently calmed down.

Vergil made a beeline for the book where it was resting on the table. He carefully picked it up, wincing at the dried blood on the cover and pages. He gently opened it, amending his initial assessment of the book’s age. It had to be at least a thousand years old or better. The faint feel of his grandfather’s power swirling around it explained why it had survived for so long is such good condition. Careful not to crack or split the old pages, he slowly flipped through, unmindful of his dad hanging over his shoulder. It took him a bit to figure out what the book was about, as it was written in the ancient language of demons, a language that he knew, but seldom used. The ink that the demonic runes had been written in was faded to the point of being illegible in places, and he saw that, towards the back of the book, were pages where his grandfather had obviously begun to rewrite some of the faded words so they wouldn’t be lost. Several pages towards the end of the book, the writing abruptly stopped in midsentence, like Sparda had dropped his pen to take care of something important. It did not pick back up. Vergil assumed that his grandfather had still been working when he died. Something bothered him about his grandfather’s death, something that didn’t seem quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Ignoring it for now, he continued his perusal of the book.

“Any ideas?” Dante asked.

“Not at the moment.” Vergil replied “Are you any good at the demonic language?” Dante laughed softly.

“No,” he said, chuckling “I’ve barely used it since I taught you and your sister. I imagine that you have a better grasp of it then I do. Is the whole book in that language?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmmmm,” Dante leaned it for a closer look. “That’s my father’s handwriting. He wrote this big thing?”

“If the book is as old as I think it is, then he had plenty of time to do it. I think it’s a least a thousand years old, and he used his own power to keep it preserved.”

“I can feel him around it. Wonder what is in it? I gonna scream if it’s his diary or something.”

Vergil smiled. “But imagine what his diary could tell you.”

“I wouldn’t feel right delving into his private life, even if he is dead.” Vergil felt that sense of disquiet again. “Besides what else could it tell me that I don’t already know? What he and Mom didn’t tell me, Rachel did.”

“I’ve wondered why he defected in the first place.”

“He couldn’t keep going like he had been under Mundus’ command, so he decided to rebel. What else is there to know?”

Vergil shut the book and laid it gently on the table. He turned to face his dad.

“Think about it.” he said “Grandpa is a powerful, high level demon. He is one of Mundus’ favored. This we know. We also know that any perceived failure on your part would result in some very painful punishment if you were one of his. Now, Grandpa was one of the favored so we can say that he probably didn’t screw up often, if at all. Now, if he didn’t mess up, and if he was favored that meant he was going to be very well taken care of. I know from my studies and traveling around that Grandpa wasn’t the only demon to defect. Most of them that did, it was learned, did so because they were afraid for their lives because they had screwed up one too many times for Mundus to keep them around. So for what reason did Grandpa defect?”

Dante thought about it for a second. “He didn’t have one.”

"Exactly! Grandpa had NO reason to give up his comfortable position. He knew that if he did, his life would have been forfeit, and that he would be hunted for as long as he lived. Not only that, but he would have brought dishonor on his family. Not that most demons would have cared as demons usually don’t think too highly of humans, so what would make him want to give up everything for them?”

Dante looked at Vergil thoughtfully.

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while, Vergil.” he finally said after a few moments’ silence. Vergil grinned sheepishly.

Behind them, the hidden door opened and Alastair poked her head in, her head still wet from her shower.

“Sorry to interrupt.” she said “But we’ve got an emergency call.”

 

“What have we got?” Dante asked.

“Hordes of Misha have taken up residence inside a school. They want them cleared out by the time school starts tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, they don‘t want any bullet holes, so it‘ll be Devil Arms only.”

“A school?” Vergil said “How in the world is the district going to pay us?”

“Us?” Dante turned to face him. “No, no, no. You are staying here and getting some rest. You are not going out there.”

Vergil growled. “Oh yes I am. If you leave me here alone with my thoughts, I’ll go crazy. I wouldn’t be able to keep what happened -” His voice cracked. “- out of my mind.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Dad....” Vergil was getting a little ticky. And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he felt that his uncle - no, his father - was too.

“He’s got a point, Dad.” Alastair chimed “And besides, the Misha are estimated to number in the hundreds. We could really use his help. And to answer your question, bro, it‘s a wealthy private school in an even wealthier, private neighborhood.” She grinned.

Dante growled; he hated it when they double teamed him like that. But, he had to concede that they did have a point. It wouldn’t be healthy for Vergil to be here all alone with his guilt and grief. The busier he was kept, the better.

“Alright.” he said. “But when we get home -” He turned and pointed at Vergil. “You WILL be going straight to bed, young man.”

Vergil nodded, grinning.

“You two get your gear and let’s go. Vergil, you had better take the Rebellion.”

“No, that’s alright. I’ll take the Yamato.”

“It’s been acting up lately.”

Vergil shrugged. He had a pretty good idea of why that was so, and if he was right, then the sword would behave again for him. He strode confidently over to the cabinet, his father assuring him that the Yamato would mind.

“Unlock the cabinet, Dad. I need to get my sword.”

Knowing that there would be no convincing him otherwise, Dante walked over and spun the combination. Once the lock was open, he stepped back and let Vergil open it up.

Vergil reached in and easily picked the wrapped sword up. He unwrapped it and drew it from it’s sheath, looking over the blade. Satisfied that the sword was ready for action, he closed the cabinet doors and walked calmly out of the room. Dante looked over at Alastair, who shrugged and followed her brother out. Not bothering to relock the cabinet, Dante sighed and followed her.

******

Hours later, when they returned home, tired and hungry - Misha were a pain in the neck to fight - they breakfasted on the leftover pizza and climbed into bed. As Vergil nestled under the blankets, he felt Mundus reaching out to torment him again, only to be blocked by his father’s calming presence.

Chapter 5 -- Chapter 7

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