I'd just like to say, yet again, that Vergil does not belong to me. Neither does Eva. In fact, no one here belongs to me even though I wish they did. Well guys, it's another angst fest, but I'm hoping to go for a different spin on things this time, and do something that no one else has really written yet. True, this probably is going to seem crap to a lot of you guys but hey! You can't win 'em all.

So, read, review and most of all, enjoy!

White Wings

I used to dream that I was an angel, back in a time before, when my parents were still alive, when we were all together, my mother, my father, my brother and I. I used to think that our pale eyes, and our silver hair was something out of the ordinary, something almost holy.

How wrong I was…

My father once overheard me talking to my mother, Eva, and overheard me when I told her I wanted to be an angel when I grew up. He had laughed, that soft yet majestic laugh of his. It always covered me, and made me feel safe and secure, like some sort of blanket. I had laughed too, but at the time I had no idea why he was laughing, or why he looked so sad as he had laughed. I realise later on, that it wasn't a laugh at all. It was a sardonic chuckle, and what was first thought of as positive soon turned into something negative and foul, already a poison to our seemingly perfect family life.

I'm alone now, and still alive, even after all the blows that Dante inflicted upon me. I lie here, drifting somewhere in between life and death, my human blood begging to let me die, my demon blood refusing to give in so easily. Mundus has gone, I can't feel his power anymore. Everything is silent. The only sounds I can hear are those of my own coughing, my own groans as my world moves in an endless spiral of pain.

The only thing that's left to keep me company is my own memories, which keep swimming sickeningly around my mind. Sickening not because I hate being able to remember such tender things, but sickening because I am filled with a dire sense of longing, a need to belong somewhere, a need to feel the love of my mother again.

But even as I think this, I know that my wish will never be fulfilled. Why? Because I revoked her love, I shattered it to pieces, I refused it, I discarded it and cast it away from me like a discarded toy that a boy no longer deems as important enough to play with. I did all this, and more, the day when I fought Dante, and turned to evil. The day when I was consumed by the lust of battle and blood, the day when I sought to kill Dante, all in order to regain power. When I joined Mundus.

Oh Mother, if only you were here to hear me cry your name. If only you could read my mind, and know that I love you, that I regret throwing your love away in my blind pursuit of power.

I suddenly feel the edges of my consciousness blurring, as darkness threatens to engulf me. I scrabble furiously for any type of sensation, anything that could bring me back to consciousness, anything that would let me know that I'm still alive, conscious. Black spots scud across my vision and I cry out with pain and fear. I'm scared, oh God, I'm so so scared. I don't want to die this way. I don't want to die knowing that my brother is filled with guilt, that he thinks he killed me, I don't want to die with my brother thinking I'm evil.

I'm not. I just wanted power, was that so much to ask? I just wanted enough power, maybe one day being able to revive Mother, maybe one day being able to go back in time or something, to try and stop what happened. I wanted to be a hero. But to do that, I needed power.

I can hear my breath sobbing raggedly in my chest. I try to cling to this, try to listen to this awful sound. Each time I draw breath, I chant in my mind. I want to live. I want to live. I want to live. But I can feel my strength slipping away, even as I try and chant. My words refuse to sound in my head, my vision starts to swim and become blurred, and soon I feel as though I am suffocating in a sea of black.

I feel as though I am falling, as though I am sinking into the murky confines of a swamp. Except there is no mud, instead, there is only death. I cry softly, and I'm unashamed. I don't want to die. I feel my arm reaching out for something that's not there, something that I wish to be there. I'm reaching for my mother, to take the pain away, the way she always did whenever either Dante or myself fell down and scraped our knees. She'd pick us up, soothe us with her magical musical voice. She'd reach into her box of magic tricks, and cover our hurts with a bandage. The pain would go, and we, my brother and I, we would blitz through the garden, chasing each other, challenging each other.

But the hurt is still here. It's not going away. It's getting worse.

I feel my eyes close against my will, and I feel my breathing slow. I feel my limbs become heavy with a weight that won't let me lift them. This is it…

Then suddenly, I am engulfed by a white light, and I am at peace. I don't understand what's going on. Am I living? Am I dead? Then I see the impossible, and hear the impossible.

A magical, musical voice, come to take the hurt away. A magical, musical voice. I smile to myself. Everything's going to be okay…

I reach out towards her, but no longer am I the man I've become. I'm my mother's little boy. She's holding onto me, stroking her hand through my hair. I'm crying, I'm so happy. Her love embraces me like a warm blanket, and I feel an awful sadness well in my heart.

How could I have thrown all this away?

She smiles at me, and suddenly, white wings unfold. I stare at her with wonder shining in my eyes.

White wings…

Perhaps there really was some part of my family that was holy after all.

An angel trapped in a mortal's body.

I don't care anymore, about the past and about the awful things I have done in my quest for power. None of it matters anymore. I don't need power. I don't need anything but her.

I'm home.