For The Sword

For the second time in his life, Dante had no idea what he should do. He stood, hands pressed against the glass, staring at his blue-tinged brother with his mouth hanging ever so slightly open. Soulless eyes stared back at him, never moving, never blinking. He noted the slight rise and fall of Vergil’s chest as oxygen was pumped into his lungs through a mask strapped to his face, saw the myriad of tubes inserted into various places around his frail form, observed how the criss-cross of blue veins could be seen through his translucent skin.

He didn’t hear the screams of a young girl echoing through the large room, or the pitiful gurgle as they were cut short. He didn’t notice when a tall, impossibly thin man entered through a door he hadn’t seen. Dante didn’t even register the arrival of the shadow-creature he was supposed to be tracking. Time had stopped, completely, for the demon slayer. The world could end and he wouldn’t know about it.

Vaguely, from the corner of his mind Dante noticed a hand on his arm and a slight prick as a needle was inserted into his vein. He knew, deep down, that something was very, very wrong with this situation, but he was powerless to do anything to stop it. He couldn’t even figure out what exactly was wrong; every time he got close to an answer, Vergil’s prone form drew his attention back and away from the truth.

He watched as the tubes changed colour, pumping life-giving blood – his blood – into his brother. What he didn’t see was the faint glow emanating from the sword to his right, or the triumphant grin on the unseen-man’s face as the computer in front of him began to pick up faint life signs. Focussed completely on Vergil’s face, Dante’s breath hitched in his throat when those flawless eyes blinked, once, and closed. There was nothing after that, only darkness as Dante slumped to the floor.

-----

“Shit” Nero swore, gently kicking the prone form at his feet. He hadn’t expected to come across a half-dead Dante in a place like this, nor did he expect to find Dante’s comatose brother suspended in green liquid and barely alive. He assumed the man in the tank was Dante’s brother, anyway. But then, he hadn’t expected to find himself in a place like this. The underground facility was huge, and creepy, but only seemed to have four rooms; the entrance, a bedroom, the lab and that large and overly round space with the trapdoor in the ceiling.

He’d arrived just in time to see Dante collapse from blood loss. The idiot had been simply standing there, letting that creep drain every drop of blood from his veins. The old man had died quickly, never expecting Nero’s blade. The demon had followed suit, dissipating into the air as soon as his ‘master’ had fallen. He’d been a little disappointed; Nero had wanted to face the thing that had stolen his sword, particularly as he hadn’t been able to fight it the last time they had met. But it was done now, and he had two very unconscious, very attractive men on his hands, and no idea how he was going to leave with them both.

Swearing again, he set to work draining the tank of fluid before cracking it open and retrieving the elder of the two brothers from its midst. It didn’t take long, but Nero knew that every second was vital. He didn’t bother removing the tubes from either man, merely tore through each of them. He did, however, think to remove Dante’s coat and place it on the other man before fastening it up to preserve some of his modesty at least. Well, he wasn’t about to get his own coat wet!

-----

Nero huffed and panted and swore, but finally, after what seemed like far too long, he had managed to get the two men home. Well, Dante’s home, if it could really be called a home. He thanked all the gods he could think of when Trish appeared at the door, opening her mouth to say something before thinking better of it and closing it again. She ushered them inside without a word, taking Dante from Nero and setting him down on the couch. Nero followed suit, gently removing the other man from his back and placing him down as gently as possible. Trish had already started to fuss over the two men, removing the tubes and patching each small wound up as she did. He didn’t know when she’d managed to get the first aid kit, but knew better than to ask.

“Who is he?” Nero finally asked, gesturing towards the still slightly-damp twin. Trish didn’t answer immediately; too busy fussing over her two unconscious charges. Neither one had moved even an inch, but she had checked each ones pulse in turn, and both seemed strong enough. They would recover, it seemed.

“Dante’s twin brother, Vergil. It’s his sword you’ve got. But you already knew that, right?” She turned to look at him, a light smirk on her pretty face, before standing and facing the younger boy, her features knotted slightly in confusion. Nero merely nodded, so she continued. “He’s supposed to be dead, though. Long story short, Dante killed him. And don’t bother repeating this, kid; he’ll just kick your ass.”

Trish left the room at that, leaving Nero with the two unconscious men. He didn’t know why, but for some reason he felt more uncomfortable stood there with them than he did with a half-naked Vergil slumped over his back and a coatless Dante propped against his side.

“So you’re Vergil, huh?” Nero started, not liking how quiet the room had become without the bustling woman in it. “Nice to meet ya, I guess…” A twitch. Nero leaned in until he was merely inches away from the source of his interest, checking Vergil over for any further movement, and also taking the opportunity to have a proper look at the man. He really was ridiculously handsome. Though twins, there were subtle differences between the two, and Nero found that it was those differences, rather than the similarities, that made them such an enigma.

“Hng…” Vergil moaned, forcing his eyes open. Nero tried desperately to stop that little sound from shooting straight down to his groin, and failed miserably. Not moving he watched, mesmerised, as sparkling blue eyes, dulled from sleep, locked onto his own. His breath caught in his throat and for a moment, a split second, Nero understood why Dante had simply stood and accepted death for just another moment spent staring into those bottomless pools of blue.

“Dante..?” Those perfect lips barely moved to form his brother’s name. Nero felt a slight twinge of resentment that the white-haired man had called for his brother instead of him, before reasoning that Vergil had never met him before so how would he even know Nero’s name?

Vergil leaned forward, practically falling on Nero and then his lips were there, so hot, pressing against Nero’s insistently, weak with fatigue but no less demanding than at any other time. Nero kissed back, knowing that it was oh so wrong, that the older man believed him to be Dante, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. He could have stayed like that for an eternity, died kissing this man he didn’t know. It ended too soon, though, as Vergil’s lips stilled and fell away from his own. It was pure reflex that made Nero reach out and grab him before he slumped to the floor, exhausted.

Nero stood, smoothing his dark clothes with both hands, trying desperately to ignore the noticeable bulge in his pants that was making his coat tent in just the wrong way. Taking one final look at the two men, Nero fled, not bothering to close the door behind him. Standing just inside the kitchen, watching, unseen, Trish smirked. Maybe having Vergil back wasn’t such a bad thing after all, and it would certainly make the next few weeks entertaining. She just hoped that Nero would come back. Though, judging by the state of him when he left, she doubted he’d be able to stay away for very long.

That was something to worry about another day, though. For now, she had to focus on getting the two upstairs and into bed. By herself, that was not going to be easy. Sighing, she set to work. It was going to be a long night.