spockthis90

[spockthis90]

A Blue Devils Raven

Here is the first part of my Vergil x OC. This has been an idea floating around my head for the last few years and has been a work in progress for a while. It is not finished but i thought if i start posting, it might make me work on it more.

Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Blood, swearing, talk of death and murder. Mentions of SA (nothing explicit and not towards characters)

Sorry if i missed anything.

The sound of their falling footsteps echoed around the empty dark streets of Mallet Island. The residents smartly safe and snug in their homes, clear from the chilled wind that nipped at her bare arms, whipped her hair and stung her nose and tired eyes. The few streetlights still working throwing their shadows across the walls and pavements as they passed. One large and intimidating, the other smaller and less intimidating. The dark sky above them threatened rain, not a star in sight, covered by thick cloud.  

Darcy followed behind her companion, her small legs tired and heavy. Returning from a job and now every part of her seemed to ache as she tried to keep up with the Dark Slayer who marched ahead of her. His long legs striding faster than hers. She kept her eyes to his boots ahead of her. Cursing the man silently as his long jacket billowed behind him in his march ahead. Calling him every name under the sun from the envy of the warmth that his jacket no doubt provided. Not really annoyed at him but herself for not wrapping up against the chilling autumn air. The bag on her shoulder, which held the books she always lugged about, and that seemed to be getting heavier with every step, slipped again and she let out a small huff. The bag thumped to the floor and the strap burning down her arm.

The job wasn’t meant to be that difficult. She wasn’t meant to get involved in the fighting. She was there for research. Reports had come in of several different demons rising up all over town and reports of dream demons attacking the locals, the last being fatal. The call had come into Devil May Cry earlier that day and answered by an eager Dante.

“Kid!” He called. His voice carrying through the office, full of hopefulness. Darcy left the kitchen to look at the handsome devil hunter she had become very fond of, sitting at his desk in his signature pose. Dirty, heavy boots resting on the scuffed wood of the desk, strong arms thrown behind his head and a big grin covering his stubbled face. His blue eyes shining with the promise of money and pizza, “We have a job, and it’s a doozy.”

“Hmm”

“So it turns out a..” he paused to look at the scribbled notes on his desk, “an incubus, has attacked and killed it’s lates victim.” Darcy blew out a breath at that. It had been a long time since she had come across an Incubus. They were known for being violent, vile little creatures. Raping men and women in different forms to secure offspring. She despised all demons but held a special hatred for those.

“Any other victims?” Dante nodded at her question and looked at his scribblings.

“Three more.” Darcy sighed again and nodded.

“So, who is going?”

“We all are,” Dante replied kicking his feet off the desk and standing from his chair. He gave her another smile, as he threw on his long red jacket that had been resting over the back of his chair. “Morrison got hold of the others, the deadweight and the motormouth are on their way,” he told her as he advanced on her. Darcy frowned up at him and slapped his chest harshly.

“Don’t call him that,” she scolded defending Nero. Her hand stinging from the contact on his solid chest “You’re just salty still that he kicked your ass.” Dante gave a loud chuckle as he rubbed at his chest where she had hit him.

“Take it easy on me, little witch, I’m an old man. Can’t be hitting me.”

Darcy huffed at him, knowing full well there was little chance of her actually physically hurting the brute of a man before her. A sly smile slipped to her lips and Dante took a step back.

“Don’t!”

She raised her hand, pointing a finger towards his chest. The static flowing through her towards her pointer finger.

“Darcy!” The whining, warning having no effect on her. Her magic crackled, the hairs on her arms standing with the static. A jolt of blue electricity shot from her finger to his chest. Dante yelped and back away further from her, Darcy threw back her head with a cackle. “So mean,” He huffed rubbing his chest, “After everything I have done for you, and this is how you treat me.”

She looked up to him again as he gave her a soft smile. It was clear for all to see that Dante had a soft spot for her. A bond between the two that had started when she was 18. Dante had been her saviour. Like many before her and many after. A friendship that had started with sacrificial rituals and the death of the coven that had tried to kill her. Darcy had been a young witch alone in the world lured by a coven with the hopes of stability and a cure to her loneliness. It was not as it seemed. The witches that took her in were practicing the darker side of their gifts and in the ritual for more power needed to sacrifice the soul of a “pure white witch”. Darcy had been chosen as the sacrifice. 3 years after joining the coven on the night of her 18th birthday they tried to kill her. Dante had been on the trail of the coven for a while and got there just before the blade sliced her throat. Killing the coven and saving the girl. Since that day he kept her under his wing, showing her the real world and how to protect herself as she made her way through it. Fifteen years later, she now had an extensive knowledge on the demonic world.

Looking up at the red devil she knew he was holding something back.   

“How bad is this, Dante?”

His face softened at her ask, “The woman’s kid found the body.”

“My gods!”

The sound of muffled rock music filled the streets as the sound grew closer to the shop. Darcy looked back to the door as tyres screeched and a door slammed. The doors burst open and in stormed a pissed off looking Nero, mumbling to himself as Nico followed into the building with a shit eating grin.

“Don’t be such a baby, Nero!”

Nero stopped and spun on Nico, tension across his broad shoulders. Darcy heard him huff and suck in a breath.

“It’s bad enough with you behind the wheel most of the time. Being chucked about in the back of the van is much worse.” Nico laughed at Nero’s annoyance, as Lady strolled in.

“At least you were a gentleman Nero, and offered the front seat,” Lady said with a killer smile as she strutted into the shop and took her place at Dante’s right side. Giving Darcy a wave and a wink.

“I never want to be that close to that man again!”

Darcy could see Dante shaking, holding back a laugh at poor Nero.

The man in question now entered the room and looked over to his son, his cool blue eyes closing to a squint.

“Well maybe if you worked on balancing your core you would have sat better.”

“Nope!” Nero yelled, “I am not taking advice from you.” Nero spun on his father and rage filled his face. Their relationship still strained, no real effort from either of them to try and form some kind of stable relationship. The tension between the two always high.

Darcy took a step closer to the arrivals and all eyes snapped to her. Nero’s shoulders eased and he rushed to her and gathered her up in his arms, lifting her from the floor and squeezing her tightly to him. Nico and Dante began loudly arguing playfully like they always did. The short commotion of the greetings hid the low growl that slipped from a throat.

“Hey Tiny,” Nero whispered into her neck, she laughed at her friend as she embraced him back. one

she had grown close too during the time Dante and Vergil stayed in hell to cut the roots of the tree. With Nero a few years younger than her, the gelled quickly. He was a great friend, funny and soft with her at times. They were probably a better pair working in the field than her and Dante. On times that she had to fight with him, it was fluid, working in sync. Nero had joked at first that at her short stature, (where the nickname started) that she could bite the demons ankles, like one of those vicious little dogs. He got a swift knee to the family jewels for that remark and ate his words after he saw her fight, they had been close friends since that day. They talked almost daily, sharing their traumas that they both were not really dealing with properly.

 After all the work they did together in the aftermath of the “Qliphoth” incident, he had asked her to come to Fortuna, work with him and Nico there but she chose to stay with Lady and Trish at Devil May Cry.

“I mean, Nero,” Trish had said from her seat at Dante’s desk, pizza held close to her mouth, “It’s an easy choice. Go with you, or work with two kickass women and give Devil May Cry a great name.”

And Trish had been right. In the months Dante had been away, business had been booming. Dante’s debts had been paid off and the shop had been repaired, cleaned and redecorated.

“So!” Dante boomed with a hand clap. Nero and Darcy broke off the hug and they looked over to him. Nero slung his arm over her shoulder and gave her a squeeze again. “We have a couple of things to do. Darcy, I want you at the last scene, see if anything has been missed.” Darcy gave a nod in understanding as Dante told the others where they were going. Darcy stood listening and could feel eyes boring into the side of her head, she turned to see Vergil staring at her, gripping Yamato tightly in his hand at his side. His cold stare left her to now pierce into his brother’s direction. Vergil, the eldest Son of Sparda. As she liked to describe him, a human iceberg, cold to the heart but the tip was not all there was. She knew there was more to the man, The Dark Slayer. She had heard all the stories but something about him just didn’t add up to her. He was never harsh or cruel to her, but he never really engaged with her. Always out or hiding in his room while she was there, they had worked together several times in a group setting and on the rare occasion alone, not that she did much when out with him as he usually took the brunt of the job. Vergil only talking to her when necessary. It was strange as, as his time as V she had been fond of him. Talking with him of poetry and spells, fascinated with his familiars. She had liked V. Vergil was a whole different kettle of fish.

Any conversation with him was stained and she hated it, she didn’t want to be best buds with him, but she did want an ease with him, it made working together all that much easier. With his introverted personality made it difficult, shutting himself away any chance he got.

 It also didn’t help that she found him magnetic, and he was probably the most beautiful being she had ever laid eyes on. She may just have a teeny, tiny (massive) crush on the man.

“Who is going with the little Raven?” Vergil asked. A loud scoff replied to his question.

“She has a name, asshole!” Nico shot at him. Nico had a problem with his little name for her. She always thought it was said in a degrading manner. Vergil looked to Darcy then to Nico. She understood the annoyance that was evident on his face. It was always how he referred to her, Nico just didn’t get it.

“I am aware of that,” Vergil sneered taking a step towards Nico, “but I will refer to her as I see fit, and little Raven it is.” Darcy was ashamed to admit that she did quite like it, it was like a little pet name that only he could use. The man hardly spoke two words to her, but she unashamedly let him away with calling her that. Nico scoffed again, opening her mouth to argue “Ravens are pests in this world, and that ain’t for shit what she is.” She raged; her hand flew to the colt strapped to her hip. Vergil took another menacing step forward. Nero shot between the two.

“Nico, no!”

“It’s not like bullets hurt the bastard.”

“Mortals are all the same, always quick to pull the trigger,” Vergil added to bait her, “There are more noble ways of fighting.”

“Vergil!” Nero turned to his father, still holding Nico back from shooting him and warned “Back off!”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll kick your ass again.” Nero dropped his hold on Nico, Squaring up to Vergil.

Darcy looked back to Dante and rolled her eyes, and he laughed. Never in her life had she rolled her eyes so much until she had met the men from the blood of Sparda. She marched in between father and son as they stared each other down and pushed at each of their chests. Nero took a step back, but Vergil seemed to lean into her touch.

“Okay, put them away gentlemen,” she said softly and looked up to Nero. Achingly aware of her hand still placed firmly on Vergil’s chest. Her head turned to Vergil who was still staring daggers at his son. She gave a light shove of his chest, and his eyes snapped to hers. As blue as ice, eyes she found to be so cold looking but would sometimes fill her with warmth. It was painfully obvious how attractive Vergil was. With thin, chiselled features. A killer dimpled smile, when it actually graced his face and eye’s that could pierce into your soul but held a thousand stories behind them.

“I can go myself.”

“Like hell you can!”

“No!”

“Don’t be foolish!”

Was yelled by the three men at the same time. She sighed and shook her head and made to move but feeling cool fingers touch her wrist stopped her and she looked down to see Vergil holding her wrist of the hand against his chest. Her eyes shot back to his as he pressed her hand harder into his chest. The room around her seemed to turn into a haze as she held his eyes. The chill of his touch spreading up the warmth of her arm. The vanilla scent of him, filling her nose and she wanted to step closer to it. His brow drew together, head tilting ever so slightly.

“Darcy, will go with Vergil.”

The statement snapped them both back to the room. Her hand dropped from his chest, and he stepped out of her warm aura.

“What?”

“Hurry up!” Vergil barked as he stopped when he realised that the footsteps behind him had stopped. He turned to find Darcy fighting with the bag she had been carrying. The annoyance of the job slipped as he looked down at the little witch who seemed ready to fall to the floor and sleep with exhaustion. He could see the muscles in her arms twitching in exertion and her legs were shaking. He even had to admit, he was tired, dog tired. He just wanted to get back to his room and sleep, sleep for days if he could.

Vergil knew something was wrong as soon as they had stepped into the building.

The air was thick, and the smell of sulphur lingered. The way that Darcy, too, scrunched her nose told him that even she could still smell it. Annoyance still rolled off him as they drew closer to the apartment of the scene. He was not happy about escorting her. Not that it was any fault of her own, Vergil was quite entranced by her, and that, that was the problem. When his humanity that was V had grown fond of the little witch those feeling has stuck when his two beings re-joined, and it seemed to still be festering in his chest. He had been convinced for a while that it was some kind of spell, but soon shook the thought of that ridiculousness. Everything about her was so pure, she would never use her gifts for something so selfish. Any magic she did use, was for good, for helping her teammates or the residents of red grave. A pure soul with a big heart.

He could remember how V had viewed her, the memories of her staying with him as he fought through the underworld with Dante. She had always seemed like a dream to him, something his mind had conjured to keep him sane in the long, tiresome time fighting everything and anything as he started his journey to rectify some of his past mistakes. The day that he returned from hell and stepped into Devil May Cry with his brother, he saw her again. Months away and his humanity and demonic side joined again, and she was the first thing he had seen, and it stole his breath. It was like he had seen her for the first time all over again. Something about her glowed to him, her deep green eyes entrapping him whenever they graced him with their loving hold. A beauty, that he found no words could really describe. Small, soft features and long, black as night hair, which shimmered in the light, looking as soft as feathers. It was where the name little Raven had come from, it had slipped so easily from his lips. He saw the way Dante had looked at him when the name had slipped, but the way her heart skipped a beat loudly in her chest made him crave to hear it again. So, he used the name over and over and over, every time the same reaction and he was addicted to the spark of joy it gave him.  Her appearance and being was what had made the name pop into his head, the darkness of her hair, her playfulness and intelligence, that was par to his. A gracious hunter that worked well in any pair. Always watchful, always flitting around. A Raven, his Raven. He could feel his heart speed up whenever he was close to her, his senses afire at her smell that was mouth-watering. His affection for her was what bothered him. He was in everyone’s eyes, not a good man, a darkness to her light and as much as he craved her presence, warmth and attention, he could not allow it. It was a daily battle within himself to stay far from her. To fight that pull she had. Hiding away from her seemed the easiest option, childish, yes, but it was working so far. When she had pressed her hand over his chest, he had leant into the touch he had craved, like her delicate fingers had reached inside his chest, easily slipping through the wall he had placed around his heart and caressed it ever so gently. He had fought with himself to fall to his knees before her and bask in the warmth she radiated.

“Morrison said most of the tenants have stayed away since the murder,” Darcy told him as the stood outside the door in the dark hallway. “They just don’t feel safe here anymore.” The building was old, but in a nicer area. An old manor renovated into apartments. She searched her bag for the key to the apartment that had been dropped off by Morrison. “I would too,” was added, mainly to herself. She pulled out the key and Vergil snatched it from her hands.

“Stay out here until I have given the all clear,” he told her opening the door. Darcy gave a huff behind him, he stepped in, and she made to follow. He swiftly turned on his heel and she slammed into his chest with an “ooft” He gripped her arms gently and walked her backward into the hall.

“Out,” Her back collided with the wall opposite the door, “Here.” Looking down at her, a frown joining her brows. He could hear her heart beat a little louder. The twitch of her hands at her side made him release her and turn back to the apartment. His fingertip seemed to burn where he had touched her warm bare skin of her uncovered arms. He looked over his shoulder at her opening and closing her mouth as if trying to come back with a fight, “Good little Raven,” He gave her a cocky smile and kicked the door closed with his foot hearing her huff again in annoyance. The smile slipped from his face as he stepped silently down the hall. His eyes and ears sharp for any clue that something was still in the apartment. The only sounds he could hear was his own heartbeat and Darcy’s muffled one through the door. The scene had been cleared day ago by the police, but he knew that some demon stayed behind in the echoes of the crime, feeding off the horrors that they had committed there.

 He stopped at a small staircase a stronger, more recent scent caught his attention, and he made his way silently up the stairs. The top floor was colder, his hand gripped the Yamato tighter as he opened a door at the end of a small hallway. His eyes scanning a child’s bedroom. The room was messy, toys and books strewn across the floor. As if the child couldn’t quite decide what they wanted to play with. Vergil stepped through the threshold and a buzz overtook his body. A heaviness. Eyes becoming unfocused, he stumbled further into the room catching himself on a bookcase. Darkness beginning to blind him, something stung the back of his neck his hand darting to the site to find nothing as he collapsed on to his knees, breathing heavily. A raspy chuckle sounded in his ringing ears, her name falling past with lips with no control, as darkness took over.   

Darcy leant against the wall staring at the door, annoyed to be left outside. She knew Dante and Nero worried about her while out on jobs, with being human and all but knew she could hold her own. On the rare occasions she did work with Vergil he was condescending about it and sometimes left her in the dirt and done all the work himself. Annoyed to be left outside on a job that was purely for info. The scene had been cleared days ago. She heard boots fall behind the door and it swung open.

“It’s clear,” Vergil told her, and she pushed off the wall and stalked past him into the apartment. The smell of sulphur thick as she passed the threshold, that caused a shiver to run down her spine. She walked down the hall, past a small staircase that led to a second floor and into a large spacious living room that was torn to shreds. Blood painting the walls and floors. Couches torn, windows smashed. Her eye’s strained in the darkening day to see anything of use. The incubus was a dream demon, which secured offspring by “seducing” its victims in their sleep, it was very, very, rare for one to attack at this magnitude. A chill passed down Darcy’s spine again as she felt a presence behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Vergil standing close to her, a little too close. Something wasn’t sitting right with her.

“What do you see?” He asked in a soft voice, His eyes scanning the room. Snapping her from trying to put a mental finger on what her body was trying to tell her.

“Not much with the lights off,” She sassed, and he gave a small chuckle. She had heard Vergil chuckle before, never directed at anything involving her, mainly from something that his “idiotic brother” had said or done. The pitch of it seemed wrong, turning to flick on the lights. She blinked harshly and looked back to the room. Her eyes scanned the mess of the room as she stepped gingerly over the pools and streaks of blood. Something under one of the couches caught her eye and she got onto her knees to look under the couch. “There is something under here,” She said lifting her head to look to Vergil who was again standing behind her and it made her jump. She knew he could move with silence, but he always seemed to have a heavier step when near her. “Move this couch,” she ordered. His lips twitched with a small smile, and the hairs on her neck rose. Vergil moved to the couch and bent to move it, with a grunt the couch slid across the floor and Darcy took a step back. On the floor, painted in chalk were some symbols inside a ritual circle.

“What are they?” Vergil asked looking down to the symbols as she walked back to his side, pulling out her phone. She frowned looking at the scribblings on the floor. She knew most of the symbols but one.

In the middle of the ritual circle was a tie of hair clippings. Darcy reached into her bag and pulled out a zip lock bag gathering up the hair and sealing it away. Something else caught her eye, she picked up what looked like a tip of a horn and placed that in another bag. “I would like to get back and search what this other symbol is,” Darcy said standing again. She turned and walked into Vergil’s chest again.

“Steady there,” He laughed holding her hips to steady her. His hands felt hot through her clothing, another twinge inside worried her and she caught her breath as she looked up at him. His face unusually softer as he gazed down at her. Her eyes met his and she gasped.

“Are you alright?” He asked in almost a whisper, Darcy nodded and tried to step away but the grip on her hips held her in place. “We should leave then.” Fear was rising in her chest as a noise from upstairs thundered through the apartment. The sound of something heavy hitting the floor above them, making dust particles float down from the ceiling. His face shifted as he looked up. Tearing his dark eyes from hers and she sucked in a breath.

“VERG...”

A hand slammed over her mouth as the dark eyes bore down on her and anger crossed the face that she could now see was not right. The nose was too long, the jaw too broad, the eyes too dark. It was a good imitation, but now the differences were obvious. Her body was lifted by a strong arm and slammed into a wall. The imitator pinned her grabbing her wrists in one hand and holding them above her head, directing the electricity of her magic that shot through her to the ceiling, scorching the paint. A long dark tail appeared behind the imitator’s shoulder, moving closer, the tip drew down her face and quickly wrapped around her neck. The hairs on the tail stung at her neck as a pressure was applied.

“Keep quiet,” It growled, drawing its face closer to her. She squirmed and kicked but its hold was too strong. It was too strong, and her body began to feel drained as the heat of its body pressed to hers. It pressed its nose into her hair and took a long smell off her. “Oh, you will do nicely.” Boots echoing down the hall made her act. She opened her mouth against the hand and bit down, hard. Blood poured into her moth as the imitator pulled away with a shout, releasing its hold, and she slumped to the flood spitting the blood from her mouth. Her arms shook as she held herself up.

“You vile little bitch,” It screamed as its form cracked and shifted. Shrinking in size to a small plump dark fury body, leathery wings unfurled from its back, horns growing on the small head. Vergil slid into the room with a snarl and the incubus turned to him, “Ah, The eldest son of Sparda.”  It looked from him to Darcy. Vergil shot his eyes to her frame as she struggled to her feet.

“Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” She huffed pulling the gun strapped to her thigh. Vergil gave a nod and turned his full attention to the incubus.

 “You are already too late Dark slayer.” A raspy chuckle passed its thin lips. It’s small burning eyes turned back to her, “thank you for bringing us this lovely, tasty added bonus.” Its tongue ran over its lips and breathed in deeply. Filling its fat nose with her scent. Darcy felt her skin crawling as it watched her.

“Us?”

“Us, me, them,” it rasped, “We are one and the same.” Darcy looked over to Vergil then back to the small demon before them. Something in her gut twisted and an unease filled her. She lowered her gun, as the demon opened its mouth to speak more.

“Enough of this!” Vergil barked cutting off the demon and moved with ease and grace towards his enemy. Unsheathing Yamato. Darcy raised the gun that seemed ten times heavier, enacting a spell under her breath, sending the power to the bullet as she pulled the trigger.

[spockthis90]

If I post a vergil x oc on here will people get supper annoyed? I read alot of x reader fics and I am going to change it. It's mainly for any feed back and if people are actually interested in reading it.

[spockthis90]

A snippets of a story.

I have been writting away very slowly and have finally decided to post a part of my story. It's written as VergilxOFC but may change it to xReader. This is my first time posting one of my stories. feed back is welcome but please be nice. There will most definietly be errors.

Thank you if you read it.

Warnings: Blood, swearing, talk of death and murder. Meantions of SA (noting explicit and not towards characters)

sorry if i missed any others.

“Hurry up!” Vergil barked as he stopped when he realised that the footsteps behind him had stopped. He turned to find Darcy fighting with the bag she had been carrying. The annoyance of the job slipped as he looked down at her, she looked ready to fall to the floor and sleep with exhaustion. He could see the muscles in her arms twitching in exertion and her legs were shaking. He even had to admit, he was tired, dog tired. He just wanted to get back to his room and sleep, sleep for days if he could.

Vergil knew something was wrong as soon as they had stepped into the building. 

The air was thick, and the smell of sulphur lingered. The way that Darcy, too, scrunched her nose told him that even she could still smell it. Annoyance still rolled off him as they drew closer to the apartment of the scene. He was not happy about escorting her. Not that it was any fault of her own, Vergil was quite entranced by her, and that, that was the problem. When his humanity that was V had grown fond of the little witch, those feelings had stuck when his two beings re-joined, and it seemed to still be festering in his chest. He had been convinced for a while that it was some kind of spell, but soon shook the thought of that ridiculousness. Everything about her was so pure, she would never use her gifts for something so selfish. Any magic she did use, was for good, for helping her teammates, her friends, or the residents of Red Grave. A pure soul with a big heart. 

He could remember how V had viewed her, the memories of her staying with him as he fought through the underworld with Dante. She had always seemed like a dream to him, something his mind had conjured to keep him sane in the long, tiresome time fighting everything and anything as he started his journey to rectify some of his past mistakes. The day that he returned from hell and stepped into Devil May Cry with his brother he saw her again. Months away and his humanity and demonic side joined again, and she was the first thing he had seen, and it stole his breath. It was like he had seen her for the first time all over again. Something about her glowed to him, her deep green eyes entrapping him whenever they graced him with their loving hold. A beauty that he found no words could really describe. Small, soft features and long, black as night hair, which shimmered in the light, looking as soft as feathers. It was where the name little Raven had come from, it had slipped so easily from his lips. He saw the way Dante had looked at him, but the way her heart skipped a beat loudly in her chest made him crave to hear it again. So he used the name again and again and again, every time the same reaction and he was addicted to the spark of joy it gave him. Her appearance and being was what had made the name pop into his head, the darkness of her hair, her playfulness and intelligence, that was par to his. A gracious hunter that worked well in any pair. Always watchful, always flitting around. A Raven, his Raven. He could feel his heart speed up whenever he was close to her, his senses afire at her smell that was mouth-watering. His affection for her was what bothered him. He was in everyone’s eyes, not a good man, a darkness to her light and as much as he craved her presence, warmth and attention, he could not allow it. It was a daily battle within himself to stay far from her. To fight that pull she had. Hiding away from her seemed the easiest option, childish, yes, but it was working so far. When she had pressed her hand over his chest, he had leant into the touch that he had craved, like her delicate fingers had reached inside his chest, easily slipping through the wall he had placed around his heart and caressed it ever so gently. He had fought with himself to not fall to his knees before her and bask in the warmth she radiated. 

“Morrison said most of the tenants have moved out since the murder,” Darcy told him as they stood outside the door in the dark hallway. The building was old, but in a nicer area. An old manor renovated into apartments. She searched her bag for the key to the apartment that had been dropped off by Morrison. “I would too,” was added, mainly to herself. She pulled out the key and Vergil snatched it from her hands. 

“Stay out here until I have given the all clear,” He told her, opening the door. Darcy gave a huff behind him, he stepped in, and she made to follow. He swiftly turned on his heel and she slammed into his chest with an “ooft” Gripping her arms gently and walked her backward into the hall.

“Out,” Her back collided with the wall opposite the door, “Here.” Looking down at her, a frown creased her brow as she tipped her head back to look up at him. He could hear her heartbeat pump louder in her chest. The twitch of her hands at her side made him release her and turn back to the apartment. His fingertip seemed to burn where he had touched her warm bare skin of her uncovered arms. He looked over his shoulder at her opening and closing her mouth as if trying to come back with a fight, “Good little Raven,” He gave her a cocky smile and kicked the door closed with his foot hearing her huff again in annoyance. The smile slipped from his face as he stepped silently down the hall. His eyes and ears, sharp for any clue that something was still in the apartment. The scene had been cleared by the police days ago, but he knew that some demons stayed in the place that held the echoes of the crimes, feeding off the horrors that they had committed there.

The only sounds he could hear was his own heartbeat and Darcy’s muffled one through the door. He stopped at a small staircase a stronger, more recent scent caught his attention and he made his way silently up the stairs. The top floor was colder, his hand gripping the Yamato tighter as he opened a door at the end of a small hallway. His eyes scanned a child’s bedroom. The room was messy, toys and books strewn across the floor. As if the child couldn’t quite decide what they wanted to play with. Vergil stepped through the threshold and a buzz overtook his body. A heaviness. Eyes becoming unfocused, he stumbled further into the room catching himself on a bookcase. Darkness began to blind him, something stung the back of his neck, his hand flying to the stinging site but finding nothing there and he collapsed on to his knees, breathing heavily. A raspy chuckle sounded in his ringing ears, her name falling past his lips as darkness took over.   

Darcy leant against the wall staring at the door, annoyed to be left outside, again. She knew Dante and Nero worried about her while out on jobs, with being human and all but knew she could hold her own. On the rare occasions she did work with Vergil he was condescending about it and sometimes left her in the dirt and did all the work himself. Annoyed to be left outside on a job that was purely for info. The scene had been cleared days ago. She heard boots fall behind the door and it swung open.

“It’s clear,” Vergil told her, and she pushed off the wall and stalked past him into the apartment. The smell of sulphur thick as she passed the threshold, a shiver passed down her spine as she passed him. She walked down the hall, past a small staircase that led to a second floor and into a large spacious living room that was torn to shreds. Blood painting the walls and floors. Couches torn, windows smashed. Her eye’s strained with the darkening day to see anything of use. The incubus was a dream demon, which secured offspring by “seducing” its victims in a form that they found most appealing; it was very, very, rare for one to attack at this magnitude. Victims of a succubi usually died from suffocation, as the demon had a sick fascination watching its offspring grow in the womb, usually while sitting on its victims chest.

A chill passed down Darcy’s spine again as she felt a presence behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Vergil standing close to her, a little too close. Something wasn’t sitting right with her. 

“What do you see?” He asked in a soft voice, His eyes scanning the room. Snapping her from trying to put a mental finger on what her body was trying to tell her.

“Not much with the lights off,” She sassed, and he gave a small chuckle. She had heard Vergil chuckle before, never directed at anything involving her, mainly from something that his “idiotic brother” had said or done. The pitch of it seemed wrong, turning to flick on the lights. She blinked harshly and looked back to the room. Her eyes scanned the mess of the room as she stepped gingerly over the dried pools and streaks of blood. A mark on the floor by the couch caught her eye. She stepped closer and got onto her knees and looked under the couch, where she saw more markings, “There is something under here,” She said, lifting her head to look at Vergil who was again standing behind her and it made her jump. She knew he could move with silence, but he always seemed to have a heavier step when near her. “Move this couch,” she ordered. His lips twitched with a small smile, and the hairs on her neck rose. Vergil moved to the couch and bent to move it, with a grunt the couch slid across the floor and Darcy took a step back. On the floor, painted in chalk were some symbols inside a ritual circle.

“What are they?” Vergil asked, looking down to the symbols as she walked back to his side, pulling out her phone. She frowned looking at the scribblings on the floor. She recognised most of the symbols as dream ritual symbols, but one didn’t seem to fit. The fact that an incubus was using a dream ritual was strange but the unknown symbol confused her more.

“It’s a dream ritual,” she told him, pulling out her phone to take some pictures, “But this one here,” She pointed down to the unknown symbol, “I don't recognise this one.” Vergil hummed in understanding.

 In the middle of the ritual circle was a tie of hair clippings. Darcy reached into her bag and pulled out a zip lock bag gathering up the hair and sealing it away. 

“Is that the victim's hair?” He asked her in a soft voice that sent a chill through her. She nodded as she got to her feet, flashing a few more pictures. The flash lit up the floor and something else caught her eye.

“Sometimes, with ritual’s like these you need part of the person to make the spell stronger,” Darcy told him, she picked up what looked like part of a horn and placed it in another zip lock bag. “I would like to get back and search what that symbol is,” Darcy said standing again. She turned and walked into Vergil’s chest again.

“Steady there,” He laughed, holding her hips to steady her. His hands felt hot through her clothing, another twinge inside worried her and she caught her breath as she looked up at him. His face unusually softer as he gazed down at her. Her eyes met his and she gasped.

“Are you alright?” He asked in almost a whisper, Darcy nodded and tried to step away but the grip on her hips held her in place. “We should leave then.” Fear was rising in her chest as a noise from upstairs thundered through the apartment. The sound of something heavy hitting the floor above them, making dust particles float down from the ceiling. His face shifted as he looked up. Tearing his dark eyes from hers and she sucked in a breath.

“VERG...”

A hand slammed over her mouth as the dark eyes bore down on her and anger crossed the face that she could now see was not right. The nose was too long, the jaw too broad, the eyes too dark. It was a good imitation, but now the differences were obvious to her. Her body was lifted by a strong arm and slammed into a wall. The imitator pinned her, grabbing her wrists in one hand and holding them above her head, directing the electricity of her magic that shot through her to the ceiling, scorching the paint. A long dark tail appeared behind the imitators shoulder, moving closer, the tip drew down her face and quickly wrapped around her neck. The hairs on the tail stung at her neck as a pressure was applied. 

“Keep quiet,” It growled, drawing its face closer to her. She squirmed and kicked but its hold was too strong. It was too strong, and her body began to feel tired as the heat of its body pressed to hers. It pressed its nose into her hair and took a long smell off her. “Oh you will do nicely.” Boots echoing down the hall made her act. She opened her mouth against the hand and bit down, hard. Blood poured into her mouth as the imitator pulled away with a shout, releasing its hold, and she slumped to the flood spitting the blood from her mouth. Her arms shook as she held herself up.

“You vile little bitch,” It screamed as its form cracked and shifted. Shrinking in size to a small plump dark fury body, leathery wings unfurled from its back, horns growing on the small head. Vergil slid into the room with a snarl and the incubus turned to him, “Ah, The eldest son of Sparda.”  It looked from him to Darcy. Vergil shot his eyes to her frame as she struggled to her feet.

“Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” She huffed, pulling the gun strapped to her thigh. Vergil gave a nod and turned his full attention to the incubus.

“You are already too late, son of Sparda.” A raspy chuckle passed its thin lips. Its small burning eyes turned back to Darcy, “Thank you for bringing us this delicious added bonus.”

“Us?” Darcy’s eyes scanned the room while the gun stayed trained on the incubi before her.

“Us, me, them,“ It rasped, “We are one and the same,” Darcy looked back to the small demon before her and an unease filled her. her gun lowering, It opened its mouth again to speak but was cut off.

“Enough of this!” Vergil barked and moved with ease and grace towards his enemy. Unsheathing Yamato. Darcy raised the gun that now seemed ten times heavier, enacting a spell under her breath, sending the power to the bullet as she pulled the trigger.

[spockthis90]

I use tumblr all the time but dont know how to work it. I have started writing a fic that has been knocking about my head for a bit. Doubt its any good, but dont have many people who get the whole "i like reading fanfics" thing. So I'll shout about it into the tinternet. Of course while writing i have to have a visual to help. So this is my set up. Maybe one day i will be brave enough to share some of my writing.