Chapter Text
BLOOD POURED ITS WAY down Vergil's back like a waterfall. It stained his once brilliant blue coat a dark red so deep that it was almost black. It tore in places to expose still healing flesh, pink and gory, knitting itself together in a painstakingly slow motion. The Yamato hung limply between his long, pianists fingers, arms too weak to lift it up and fight off anyone who wanted a second round.
"Damn." Dante stumbled up beside him, looking as worse or nearly as bad as he did. He held no weapon other than his gun and had been unwillingly stripped of his shirt and red leather jacket. Claw marks and bullet holes riddled his body like wicked artwork to the point where there was no skin visible beneath all of the blood. "When did the humans get their hands on angel blessed weapons?"
"They've always had it," Vergil exhaled lowly. His breath fogged in the air. "I'm certain they've never had proof to use it before now."
Dante swept his wrist across his nose. The only clean spot of skin on his hand came away bloody. "Huh. Would you look at that? Not healing as fast as I usually do. You?"
"Faster than you, it seems," Vergil answered. Several shallow cuts on his chest had already healed to faint pink lines. "But I wasn't the one taking hollow bullets filled with holy water to the chest, either, so there must still be some in your blood."
Dante choked out a laugh and reclined against a brick wall. "Didn't know I had enough blood left to make a difference."
"Well, well, look what we have here."
The sound of heels against pavement had Vergil turning around, Yamato raised, even though he was shaking hard enough that he couldn't hold it straight. His entire body rebelled against the action, pleading for him to let go and hit the ground face first, but Dante was behind him, breathing shallowly, and just barely clinging to the wall.
A sharp, black laquered fingernail pushed Yamato's blade to the side. Tingles and sparks, not entirely unpleasant, began crawling up his arms and shoulders and darted down his spine. His devil side, though tired and exhausted, rose to the surface of his consciousness to taste the air and the Identity of the new arrival. Dante's sharp inhale behind him confirmed his suspicions.
"Madame Yulara," Dante croaked, greeting the Mistress of Hell with a half assed bow. "I would greet you properly, but I can't exactly move my hand without letting my organs spill out on the sidewalk."
Madame Yulara--dressed in little else but what could only be described as strips of leather and lace--laughed lowly. Her long auburn hair brushed her hips as she shook her head in amusement.
"Dear Dante, I know you would if you could," she sighed. She glanced at Vergil with an unusually concentrated green gaze, then looked back at his brother. "You're in bad shape, aren't you, sweet boy? Your brother as well."
"Humans with blessed weaponry," Vergil explained when Dante began a rough, chest heaving cough. "I'm unsure of how many hits he took."
"I see." Drumming her fingers against her lips, Yulara reached over and pressed her palm against the wall. Where there were once bricks there was now a black door with a red neon sign upon it.
Hotel Lilith.
"Come inside," Yulara said urgently. "We will get you healed up in no time. In the meantime, while you recover, you can stay here. Free of charge."
"Your hospitality is not unwelcome," Vergil began,"but I insist that we--"
"Nonsense. I owe Eva more than I can say," Yulara rolled her eyes. "The least I can do is help you two boys. Now get inside."
"Thanks, Madame Yulara," Dante mumbled tiredly. "You're... the best."
"I know I am, darling."
Vergil, supporting Dante with what strength he had, followed the woman inside the hotel. The atmosphere quickly changed from the humid, somber tone outside to an electrically charged dry heat. Devils, half bloods, and Fallen alike resided within the room they had entered, all of them following the twins with their eyes and ears.
"In here," Yulara told him, gesturing to another door that she held open.
Inside was a room littered with surgical grade steel and white curtains. A steel table was put in the middle of it, equipped with restraints of various kinds, and had stirrups not unlike that of a gynecological exam chair. Judging by the faint smell of blood, Vergil could only guess it doubled as a birthing chair as well.
"Lay him down there," Yulara ordered. She busied herself by pulling out fresh scalpels and a giant pair of medical grade pliers. She laid them out on a tray and filled a syringe full of morphine. "This might not help a lot, but for now he'll need it."
Vergil laid his brother out on the table as she told him. She made quick work of restraining him to the table. When he caught her eye, she said,"I don't want his devil coming out and trying to get a taste of the doctor."
"You aren't doing it yourself?" he inquired.
"Hell no," she said dismissively. "I'm not qualified for demonic surgeries. Do you think you can control of your devil if it decided to come out right now?"
He highly doubted it, but one look at his brother lying prostrate on the exam table made his mind up. "Of course."
"Good." Yulara stuck her head out the door and yelled something that was smothered by the loud music pounding in the other room. Dante groaned, his words unintelligible. "Damn, wearing off too soon. Need a horse tranquilizer. No, better be an elephant dose."
She produced a second syringe from a drawer. It was the size of half her forearm and had a needle longer than her finger. She emptied its contents into Dante's thigh and the half devil slumped back, mouth open, oblivious to the world.
"Here."
Vergil found himself pricked with a smaller syringe before he could blink. "What..?"
"Xanax. I need you nice and relaxed when the doctor comes in. Don't look at me like that, it's to protect the doctor."
"Who is the doctor?" Vergil demanded.
Before she could answer, the door flew open. Vergil's devil nearly seized when the scent entered the room and pushed past his nose.
"Sorry! I was asleep!"
Sleepy eyed and with hair as bushy as a raccoons tail, a woman stood in the threshold dressed in what looked like a too short nightgown over a pair of scrub pants that looked too big for her. Her feet were bare and she had thrown a furry robe over her shoulders in apparent haste.
"[Name]," Yulara sighed in relief,"right on time."
Vergil held on to his chair tight enough that his knuckles popped. His devil tested the boundaries of his control, sluggish and weakened by the medicine, eager to sink its teeth into the young woman at the door but not out of rage, like he'd been expecting. It was brought on by a shot of lust strong enough to knock him off his feet. He knew what it was; heard rumors and read books, but never knew if it was true. Dante, responding unconciously, twitched on the table.
A female devil.