Hope you enjoy!
These characters do not belong to me, not matter how much pocket money I offer Capcom. On a brighter note, Dante is a sexy beast, and Vergil is totally bang-able.

Ciao! TehOdd1 xoox

Gritting my teeth against the pain in my chest, I ducked and lunged at my Master's sword.

He was panting- a rarity in itself, and his footwork was becoming sloppy.

I thought I was going to win. I felt it in the air, in his strikes, in my sweat. I was gonna win.

I slashed and took a calculated step forward, before jumping back and deflecting a blow that might've rendered me helpless a few years ago.

Pushing against his un natural strength, the sweat on my forehead slipped down my face and I let out a little grunt of frustration when he didn't budge.

"Come now, Rachel." Master Vergil panted quietly. "You know better than to use strength against me."

I growled and sliced down at his hand - hoping he'd drop the sword.

He didn't, and it was a lowly move on my part, but I was annoyed as all hell and I wasn't going to lose again.

I brought the sword up, and struck down, only to have it clash with his.

My arms vibrated violently. Every inch of me was burning, aching, to stop. To admit defeat. But I would not. Not when I was this close to winning.

"Give up." he said, pushing me back.

I stumbled over my shaking knees, honestly exhausted, but took a deep breath and spat through my teeth : "Never."

I lunged again, feigning a strike to the right, then feigning left, then finally ducking and collecting his feet from underneath him with a kick.

He took the fall gracefully, landing on his back. How someone can actually fall gracefully, I'll never know. He just did it.

I held the sword to his throat and ripping the mask off my head, sweaty and flushed, but smirking in victory.

"Admit defeat." I panted.

His very rare smirk settled into place. A single piece of hair fell onto his forehead, sticking to the skin and he sat up a little.

"Would you really kill me, Rachel?" he mused, pushing his throat into the blade. A little blood slipped down his throat, and dropped onto the floor.

I backed up a little, then held steady.

"The situation?" I asked, still panting hard.

"Right now. If I were to pose a threat to you, would you kill me?"

"Would you kill me, Master Vergil?" I panted, raising an eyebrow. "Honestly?"

I knew he would be honest - we had no secrets. I told him when I needed to fight my anger away, and he would help me; so long as I told him , or clued him in if I was hurt in the process. He thought me fragile, and I hated it. Hated it with a fiery passion with the depths of hell.

"The situation?" he prodded dryly. I saw his hand twitch for his blade and on impulse kicked it away - when suddenly the world was spinning and I was flat on my back, with my Master's foot on my armed hand, smirking down his nose at me.

The breath was knocked from my lungs- I struggled not to choke on my tongue.

"I... Want marriage." I coughed, sitting up slightly and tugging my armed hand. "And you refuse him my hand."

He looked amused, raising his eyebrow.

Twisting his heel on my wrist, I slammed my teeth shut over a scream and glared up at him. A muscle under my right eye twitched.

"We both know you would just marry him, if you wanted it." he smirked. "If you really wanted him."

I snorted. Fair enough. "Okay...I'm pregnant!" I hissed as he stomped on my forearm.

I lifted a leg and swept it around, which he jumped over but left my hand briefly, which I scooped up to my chest- leaving my weapon behind.

"And you refuse to let me have the baby."

He grimaced.

"Heaven forbid you do get pregnant," he began morbidly.

I bit my tongue and lashed out, seeking to punch him in the face but having him deflect it, I lifted a leg to kick him in the chest but he took my ankle and squeezed it (gently for him I'm sure), to which it cracked painfully.

I fell to the floor, then turned and dived after my sword.

I it swung at him, relishing the feeling of the metal beneath my palm. I was empowered. I could win this.

"Then I would advise you not to have-" he ducked under my blade then sent an uppercut punch into my jaw, sending me flying back. I felt the side of my head collide with the brick wall - which hurt a helluva lot, let me tell you - and my internal organs slam against my ribs, which were half imbedded in the wall.

I slid downwards, seeing my blood paint the bricks ruby red, then collected myself, hurting and bleeding and-

"-the child, unless the father of which agreed to help you out-"

"I don't need help!" I spat, spitting blood. I lunged again, then dropped to my knees, sliding across the floor and cutting open the back of his knees.

He gave a small, impressed 'Oh', then fell backwards, to which I had him pinned under my sword for the second time that night.

I panted, half doubled over, with a split lip, throbbing ankle, a wrist screaming bloody murder, my ribs aching - almost like my lungs were bruised - and my head spinning.

"Give." I half choked.

He smirked.

"I suppose I could kill you, if I really had to." he mused aloud. "It seems you are getting better with your sword, and if you should lose your temper I might just have to fight for my life."

His smirk widened.

"I give."

I blanched.

"What?"

"Pardon," he corrected calmly. "And I said, 'I give'."

I blinked stupidly for a second, my spinning head not calculating properly, then grinned. "I win?"

"Yes, Rachel." he sighed, getting up. "You win."

I punched my hand into the air, dropping my sword, whopping for joy, when my throbbing ankle complained and I stumbled into a wall.

It didn't help the room was going fuzzy, either.

"Are you alright?" he was at my side momentarily. "Did I-?"

"Drunk on victory!" I grinned up at him, hoping he didn't notice just how tightly my hands were clenched into fists. I sheathed my sword, strapped to my back, wincing as my shoulder hurt.

He raised an un-amused eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

"And when I tell you that you are to walk home...?"

I felt myself pale, and cleared my throat, looking around awkwardly.

"I'll..." I paused, trying to weasel my way out of his accusation. "Challenge you to a re-match?"

He shook his head.

"Where does it hurt, Rachel?"

"I'm not hurt." I replied, putting some weight on my sore ankle, and crossing my screaming wrist under my arm.

His eyes narrowed and I fought very hard not to wince.

"You do know I will get it out of you." he said dangerously.

"There's nothing to 'get'." I made quotation marks in the air with my not sore hand- his pale one snatched my sore wrist in an instant.

He squeezed, and pain shot up my arm so fast and so bad I fell to my knees, wincing.

"Nothing, eh?"

"No." I replied through gritted teeth. Blood trickled down my chin.

He frowned.

"Your lip is swelling rather rapidly." he said calmly. His deadly 'I'm-going-to-hurt-you-soon' calm.

"It's just a bruise." I winced and fought back against a scream as he twisted my arm- a small yelp left my lips.

"You have a rather large bump on your head. You might be concussed."

"'Might', being the operative word." I wheezed.

He sighed, and picked me up, holding me to his chest like I weighed nothing.

"Master-Vergil-!"

I struggled in his grip half heartedly- I was grateful he could carry me up the stairs.

"Rachel." he warned in his 'I-will-seriously-leave-you-down-here' voice. Yes. He had those kinds of voices. Speaking from years of experience, I stopped struggling, cradled my hand to my chest and huffed my displeasure.

Something in my ribs cracked.

I winced again, my jaw dropping open and letting out a small groan.

"What did I do?" he asked coolly, after he had kicked the door open and locked it again.

He crossed the paddock, frowning at the flies and mozzies that attacked us, and when he approached the car, repeated his question.

"You didn't do anything," I replied, inspecting my wrist, "I was stupid an I twisted my ankle. Then I ran into a door and whilst I was falling hurt my wrist, too."

He scowled at me, putting me in the passenger's side and buckling me up.

"I can do my own belt up, thanks!" I called as he closed the door.

My Master had a way with swords- and a fantastic taste in cars.

We were riding in a schick car, that he had built by hand in 1964. The best parts of the best cars, in black. He called it his 'Chariot'; I loved this car.

I manuvered my shirt out of the harness that strapped my sword to my back , spitting into my flimsy tee as Master Vergil got in the car and gunned it down the road.

I had several nicks and cuts on my arms, from close calls with the katana. Most stung, but not as much as when I would have to limp up to the shower and wash them.

I bled into my shirt instead of the seat. I was inheriting this car when he died...If he died. I think he's invincible, actually.

Master Vergil's eyes left the road for a second, checking over me, then he slammed on the breaks and practically tore my arms off my torso to look at the bruising on my side and back.

"Rachel." he growled, turning me to face him.

I tried to be impassive, but I never did perfect his poker face. Well, I did, but that was reserved for very important things when I wasn't in so much pain. I sighed, and winced as his nails dug into my shoulders.

"What?"

"When," he demanded coldly. "did they get there?"

I shrugged but winced again.

"A few days ago." I tried to look into his face but I felt so bad I looked out the window.

"I told you," he seethed, practically throwing me back in the seat, resulting in my head slamming against the window.

"I have one rule!" he roared, gunning the engine and throwing it into gear.

Actually, he had all sorts of rules. Like, you must take your shoes off when you go upstairs or on any carpeted areas. You may only watch the T.V for two hours a day, the other five hours you aren't at school, you must dedicate yourself to training or homework. Your training must be carried out in a fashion that works every bone and muscle in your body. I won't have you any more breakable than you are now. When watching T.V, you may not watch stupid cartoons but documentaries. (Even then I shall annoy you about it.) But I wasn't about to tell him that.

"You tell me when I hurt you, Rachel. You have to tell me! I'm not a psychic, I'm half demon!" He lectured, hands disfiguring the wheel as he gripped it.

"Easy on the wheel, Master, I can't fix the un-fixable-"

"What if I broke something?" he continued as if I had never spoken. "Stupid, insignificant human, you are FRAGILE TO ME!"

His eyes were burning, as he sped down the makeshift road to our house. Dirt was creating such a big cloud around our car, I couldn't see two feet in front of me.

We lived on two acres of land, with sixteen and seventeen acres on either side. My Master liked his space and privacy.

"No more sparring!" he bit out, his top lip curling up.

"What?" I arked up, sitting up from my slouched, 'yes-I'm-going-to-accept-this-quietly' demeanour. "You can't do that!"

"Yes I can." he spoke through gritted teeth.

"The whole point of you keeping me alive is to train me! To pass on your legacy!"

"I'm not going to kill my own apprentice!" he snarled, eyes flashing. "I have worked far too hard to ensure you stay alive."

"You won't!" I groaned, running a hand over my face. Apparently I had a good few cuts there too, because they stung something chronic. "I'm tougher than you give me credit for, Master, and you know I'm tougher than just a mere human!"

"You don't heal like a demon, Rachel. You don't possess the speed, or the strength. So be. Silent." he said dangerously.

"I didn't mean like that." I hissed, as he went over a bump and upset my ribs. "You said it yourself, I'm getting better with the sword?" I wheezed angrily.

He nodded once, sharply. We both thought it better if he said little right now.

"And when have you ever let 'just a human' beat you? Never! So I am alot tougher than any other human!" I finished triumphantly.

He considered this, slowing his speed down to park at the back of our house.

Calmly, he got out of the car, opened my door, un-did my seat belt and stepped back.

"Walk." he commanded.

I eyed the space from the car to the back door - he had parked further away than normal. He always tested me like this. God, I hated it so much.

I glared up at him, narrowing my eyes. "You don't think I can make that?" I said dangerously, gritting my teeth.

"I know you can't make that." he said calmly, smoothing the front of his jacket out.

I turned a little too sharply and heard something click in my neck - which means if I heard it, he defenetly did.

"Fine."

"Go ahead."

"I will." I said sourly, picking my legs up and throwing them out the door like they were numb.

Which, unfortunately for me, they were not.

I bit the inside of my lips and groped the seat, squeezing my eyes shut as pain induced spots popped into my vision. Panting a little, I stood, half doubled over, leaning on the car for support. I watched my feet the entire, gruelling process of walking around the car to get to the other side, sliding along the bonnet for aid.

Master Vergil took a step every time I did. He seemed to be in no hurry, watching my every move like a hawk.

I looked at the space between the house and me, and half snarled my frustration.

Normally, it would've been about thirty steps to walk.

Now, it would be sixty limps of fire shooting up my leg. And I didn't think that my head would last that long either.

"Are you watching the grass grow," he taunted, stepping up to my side, "Or are you thinking of asking me for help?"

"I'm watching the grass." I said coldly, shooting him a look. "It's ever so much fun, care to join me?"

"I'll have to." he replied just as coldly. "I'm waiting for you, I might as well be waiting for-"

I took a step before he finished, pushing myself off from the car defiantly.

Good. I was doing good.

For a second I turned, giving him a totally deserved grin, and grunted as I swayed. He tried to grab my arm but I wrenched it away, narrowing my eyes at him.

"I can do it myself." I said, swallowing the bile on my tongue. I felt so exhausted and sick, it wasn't even funny.

He kinda shrugged one shoulder, and retracted his hand. "Suit yourself."

I took another agonising step, then another, then another.

Panting, I doubled up, feeling my abs twitch and shoulder throb, spitting out cusses into the floor.

"Must you be so vulgar?"

"Must you...Stink?" I tried, shooting a glare at him. "Yeah. I went there, fool."

He smirked, and folded his arms across his chest, raising a very 'Intrigued-but-still-mad' eyebrow.

"Shut up." I sighed.

"I didn't say-"

I took a step but half collapsed, grunting between clenched teeth slightly.

My Master fell to his knees and had my arm around his shoulders in seconds. I didn't even see him move.

"Fine." I said through gritted teeth.

He held a finger to his lips, his eyes trained on the house, which currently stood only a few steps away. I had done well, to get where I was now.

There was someone in our house, I could see the silhouetted shadows moving around.

It didn't bother me at all that someone was in the house.

It bothered me that someone was in my house. And that they had gotten past the varied traps and spells my Master and I slaved away at installing.

They must be demons.

Oh joy. My first un-planned, un-backed encounter.

Whilst mortally wounded.

Lovely.*

*please note: heavy sarcasm.