Dante's Angel (s) {Dmc Fanfiction #2}

Part 15

(Part 15)

He waited anxiously for something to happen. He waited, while he fought fiercely. By any rights, he should be focused on his task at hand. Killing demons, slicing them apart with his sword, pulling them apart with his bare hands, kicking them down with his demonic abilities...

His brain could not get past the fact that all he thought was about her. Was she doing fine? Was she okay? Was she in trouble? He wished to all ends of the earth that he could drop everything and go to her side. He would just hug her, tell her that everything was alright, and that she didn't have to be afraid. He would kiss the life out of her, and face anything together with her.

He swore that he wouldn't blame her. He swore that he wouldn't even raise his voice at her. He wouldn't send her those silent emotionless looks that displayed his displeasure. He swore to himself that he would never do those things, but there was no one around to hear it. There was no one around to know what he had decided.

There was no one around to know how close to insanity he was.

It was almost by pure effort of recall that Vergil remembered Leah's best friend. He had long given up trying to cajole the secret out of Sasha, and could only resort to the one other person in the whole of Limbo that he knew his girlfriend would tell her secret to. It had been rather hard to travel to Fortuna at demonic speed, contact Nero to force the young man into letting his capable partner for a 'short break'.

Trish had suspected nothing when she packed her bags, but Vergil had been responsible and instilling the idea of 'coming back for a visit' in her mind.

There were many things that the son of Sparda could do. He could manipulate strong, independent demons like Trish into doing things that he wished her to do. He could place subtle hints in her life that reminded her of Dante. He could place hints that took root in her head, to motivate her to come back to Limbo City for a visit. He could guide her to the bar nearby Dante's place, and pretend to be surprised to meet her there. He could implore her to visit Leah, to influence the woman to get the secret from his lover.

What Vergil could not do was open his god-damned mouth to ask Leah what the secret was.

It was pathetic, and he hated himself for every second of it. He channelled his hatred to the poor demons who had been foolish enough to cross his path. Limb from limb, he tore each demon apart with savage rage at himself. What kind of a fool, and a coward was he? How could he still bear to call himself Leah's lover when all he had done was to avoid her since her hospitalisation?

How could he think of having a future with Leah when he couldn't even control himself, when he could only make Leah cry quietly alone at night? How could he dare to claim to love Leah when all he did in those nights that she cried quietly beside him... was only to stay absolutely awake and praying for her to find some peace? He never dared to turn around, never dared to face her crying expression, never dared to comfort her.

The demons were gone in a blink; obliterated. And still Vergil had the primal rage and need to do something. To inflict some pain, to do something that could make himself a little less disgusted at the shameful self he had become. With a roar of anger, Vergil punched through a nearby wall, his knuckles sinking into the cement, plaster and brick. The pain was nothing. Nothing compared to the fire that licked his heart.

"Someone's being an angry little bastard." The calm, cool and collected tone of a demon huntress who knew what she was doing sounded in the empty alley.

Vergil didn't move, spending all his efforts on regulating his breathing, trying his best to not let his anger radiate from every pore of his skin.