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"So what did Muramasa want?" I asked Vergil after carefully waiting out the tense air about him. He'd returned several minutes after myself and slowly lowered himself as elegantly and soundly as always into the deep, violet, velvet chair across from my place on the matching couch. We'd shared silence. Occasionally he'd cast a sideways glance to the sleeping forms in the recliner, but for the most part he'd sat in thought, staring into the kindling, warm fireplace. I could clearly see the flames reflected; dancing softly in his glassy eyes.

He didn't answer at first then breathed, "Nothing in particular," He rested the right side of his face against his hand, pressing two fingers into his temple and ogling me before averting his gaze again to the fireplace. If it was nothing, then why not tell me?

"Oh," I said.

Something faintly resembling one of his trademarked smirks was threatening the corners of his lips. So I thought, anyway, for it blanked all at once when his eyes met mine again.

"What?" I asked laughably.

He shrugged.

"What does that mean?" I impersonated his shrug. What was so amusing?

He shrugged again, clearly on purpose. My chest was beginning to feel tight like a yawn. What was he hiding that was so funny?

"Fine," I lifted my arms in defeat and turned my head away, folding my arms across my chest in a classic, childish pout. When I glanced at him sideways the way he'd been stealing looks at Nero, I saw him smiling with his eyes and a slightly upturned corner of his mouth. His fist covering the rest of his lips.

"What?" I yelled, instantly retreating in on myself and looking hastily to Nero in fear of waking him. The kid slept more than any infant I'd ever seen. Whether a thunderstorm loomed directly overhead or in the deadest moments of the day, he could sleep soundly. It was something I'd envied as of late, as I could not sleep so comfortably with the threat of recent events looming at the back and forefront of my mind. From the devil Lord that Dante had exterminated for me several months back to Asmodious' most recent appearance, I'd been lacking of a purely sound mind. It was something I'd desperately attempted to disguise around Vergil. It wasn't so much my fear of worrying him, as not much ever really bothered him, but my fear of appearing weak before him. Someone who desired strength so much and respected such strength would have probably thought my fear trivial.

Playing the fearless demon girl wasn't always so easy. I had my fears. I had my limits. I also had my guises to cover them. That "unshakeable" confidence that I all too often boasted before him helped make me feel less powerless when beside him. Someone as dominating in presence as him often made me feel inferior and far too often, unworthy.

Looking at him I was always faced with that doubt. That it was all a dream. Could it really be possible that this man was mine as I was so completely his?

"I feel proud as your mentor. You managed to convince Muramasa so easily. When I fought him, though I did manage to walk away unscathed, it took me longer to land a hit. His guard is what could be said to be flawless," Vergil finally enlightened, talking around the fist.

"I really thought I was going to die at one point. I may have scratched him but I didn't get away without some wounds of my own. That's something only you can brag about," I peeled my blue tee up to show him the deep gash in my side. I wasn't as fast a healer as the twins, and the gash had made little improvement since the first and last time I'd checked it. The one between my shoulder and neck had little to show for progress as well. It burned something terrible and stiffened my left arm till the point of near immobility, "His guard really is impeccable. He's so quick to add to that," I praised the devil swordsman with sincere respect. Something I didn't too often offer to demons as they were either attempting on my life and child or murdering my parents.

"But you were too. We haven't trained in so long I was beginning to wonder if your skills were dulling," He admitted. Somehow I felt my success with Muramasa wasn't the full dose of amusement that was tickling him.

"To be honest I was too. I was beginning to regret daring him to attack first, but I wanted to size him up first, not the other way around. I'm glad to see I haven't lost anything these past few months,"

"That doesn't mean you can slack off," Vergil warned.

"I know," I answered with a sigh. In honest fact, practicing the art of the sword had been my solace since Vergil took me under his wing. In the beginning I'd been his new hope for a tool he could use at his disposal once trained right. Now though, it was hard to say where that line could be drawn. He'd never really made much use of me other than… well… that. There were times I wondered just what he did find so attractive about me. I cussed like a sailor, disagreed with his goals and dreams, and wasn't of much use except for as a sparring buddy on a good day. There was of course that façade of confidence that I forced to burst at the seams. I was arrogant, a loud mouth, and had even kissed his twin brother. The one he had no qualms with killing, much to my heartache. His lack of the smallest shred of a family bond truly tore at my heart. Eva had been his world. A true mama's boy, they both had been, but Vergil had been especially close with her. So much so that losing her had set him on this dark path for power. He'd allowed and accepted his demon half as a result of it, and strove for a power that could defeat the Demon King himself, my supposed "father".

What I'd kill to erase that fact. My "father" was no more than a sperm donor that I could have done better without. I'd much rather have had a human, ordinary dad. At least then I wouldn't have the trifling obstacles I faced now. The controlling of these ridiculous powers that took immense concentration to grasp the slightest hold over. How Vergil had mastered all aspects of his demonic parentage and the abilities it entailed, was amazing, and quite frankly, beyond me. At least with normal parents I could have finished high school and fallen in love with a not so cruel man as the one I did love.

Still, the thought of a world without Vergil and Nero seemed too impossible to imagine. Trying to picture such a world where I was married to another and "happy" with a human life, seemed the more impossible feat than my current picture of Vergil sitting before me, smiling with all his devilish, dark gleams. That in itself was hard enough to picture, as the sight of him was nearly blinding with all his regal, otherworldly airs and charms. Once again the need to reassure myself he was real and here overwhelmed me and wasn't appeased until he spoke again.

"You look deep in thought," He stated. If only he knew.

"I could say the same about you,"

"Do I look so deep here?" He grinned again.

"Not just here. All the time. It makes me want to know what's going on inside that villainous mind of yours," I watched, trying not to let loose the wide smile I felt as his brow lifted curiously.

"Villainous?" His asked quizzically with a broadened grin.

"Villainous." I confirmed.

"What's so villainous about achieving one's goals and dreams? Don't humans always say to follow your dreams?"

"The dreams that don't include the mass genocide of the human race by the hands of demons," I replied flatly.

To that he laughed, lightly, as if it were only to a mental joke, "Regardless, it's going to happen,"

"You've made that very clear. On a number of occasions might I add," I retorted sharply.

"My intention is not the annihilation of the human race," He attempted to justify, but the reasoning fell on deaf ears.

"It may not be your intention, but as a result of the choice, it will happen," In most arguments, his logic outwilled my reason, but in this particular banter, I felt the reassuring pat on the back of logic.

"This is true," He said, as if he were still waiting for a reason. His nonchalance was almost chilling.

"And you're still this deadset, huh?" The question was more less just a reason to talk, as I couldn't allow such cold words as his to be the end of the conversation.

He frowned, condescendingly and poked a fragile nerve somewhere inside that I barely managed to keep contained. The fired urged to smack that expression from his face ticked away inside me, and he noticed it too.

"If you glare like that you'll get crow's feet," He taunted and I gritted my teeth against whatever tantalizing retort I could spin off. A few of which went somewhere along the lines of his hair and age. Neither of which were really personally thought of as material for insult, as I loved his white hair about as much as I loved his frosty blue eyes and cold humor. However his "humor" wasn't all that impressive given the subject. People's lives were at stake over this endeavor he pursued. Not just mindless, lesser demons conjured from dust. These were real, living, functioning lives that he was threatening by unleashing Temen–Ni-Gru. His cold humor was icy as compared to all the other times. Not the slightest regard to those he'd be destroying. They were humans just like his mother.

I didn't care to be around such attitude at the moment, "I'm going to the pool," I said, rising to leave.

"Don't forget a suit this time," Was all he said. He didn't have to remind me. I remembered full well our first time wrapped together. The first time he'd made love to me. The images rose unbidden almost every day. Instead of a lack of swimwear though, I was more concerned about the shoulder that still throbbed. I could force it to move if I could handle some pain.

As Vergil had once said, I had been beaten with crowbars before. I wanted to think a little more pain wouldn't kill me.

He really was cheeky. It was hard not to smile. I grabbed the aqua blue bikini at the bottom of my lingerie drawer and stepped into the bathroom to change and grab a towel. I left, walking briskly past him so as not to show him the persistent grin tugging my lips.

…

I'd almost forgotten the needle point feeling of plunging yourself into a body of chilled water. That feeling of laying out in the sun for so long then jumping into the pool to cool yourself was ten times worse than the feeling I received while jumping into the mansion's underground pool, but nevertheless, the feeling was there. I cut through the water, clumsy and uncoordinated at first before finally finding my stride. Swimming had always been my favorite form of exercise since I hated to exercise anyway. Swimming was fun, and refreshing. Every time I went under I felt like a new world was opened and I was the only one in it. The only conversation there was the loud gurgling of the water around me that pounded in my ears, or the sound of my own heartbeat. Sound did travel faster and better in water, but you never knew just how much until you were under it yourself.

The chlorine was a stinging wake up call for my eyes and wounds and I chastised myself for ignoring the goggles strung on the towel rack by the entrance or waiting at least until my cuts were more superficial. However with Nero asleep and Vergil ….being Vergil, I could finally find a peaceful moment away from all the reminders of what was really out there lurking and searching for me and my child's demise.

Instead my thoughts drifted to the curt Muramasa, whose crimson eyes held something I couldn't label. Something prideful that I had felt wasn't directed solely toward himself but toward another. However there hadn't been anyone present at the time for him to be proud of, other than himself. It wasn't as if he was my mentor, or Vergil's. So that pride that wasn't just his only sent me in spirals of confusion in regards to the real object of his affectionate pride. While fighting I hadn't been able to deny the strange, fluttering familiarity that came every time our swords crossed. Like some age old story that I'd forgotten wanted to be retold. I'd never met the proud demon, but every moment our eyes locked and our swords touched, I hadn't been able to help but faintly feel we had.

It was vexing to say the least. The feeling of wanting to know but unable to. If there was anything I'd ever had any form of real trust in, it had always been my gut. And my gut told me there was more to Muramasa than I had previously led myself to believe. I wouldn't have felt so drawn and familiar with him if there weren't a reason. Perhaps I'd simply seen that same stubborn and prideful light in his eyes as I had seen in my own all my life. Or perhaps it was the curve of his lips that seemed so familiar. Like Asmodious' when the creep wasn't grinning so freakishly. The same as Abadella's who I had pulverized just the day before. Perchance it was simply coincidence, or an overthought of my roaming imagination.

There was no way such vile creatures as them could have been spawned from someone as honorable and set in the old ways as Muramasa. Something told me any child of Muramasa's would not behave in such fashion as them.

I came up for air, alarmed by a sudden shift to the mansion's atmosphere that all too well resembled the shift that had occurred just the past night. I whipped my head around, searching the shadows for the uninvited one. I tried to focus on Nero's aura, and was given some semblance of relief to know he was safe as before. Vergil's had vanished entirely. Probably left, I assumed. There were other things he could tend to in town, I was sure. Perhaps to finally release the seventh and final seal he'd been avoiding.

However the invading presence was the more important matter now and I began to cautiously doggie paddle back to the shallow end as the small arm movements proved more tolerable for my arm. If only I'd brought a weapon with me. What little control I had over my powers only seemed to serve me well when I lost control of myself, which didn't serve me well at all. Handling Abadella had come as something of a miracle. I couldn't recall using my powers that well before. The only power I did have an impressive hand on the reigns with was my shadowing and short distance teleportation. The rest seemed to have a mind of their own, which had always bothered me. In the sense I didn't feel the powers were mine most times.

Someone like me, who'd been raised human and oblivious to my devil parentage couldn't possibly ever achieve the greatness that Vergil and Dante had. How pathetic. With all my "power" I was still nothing more than useless.

"I don't know where you are, but you might as well come out," I cast the warning to whatever or whoever it was that was skulking just out of my range of senses. Whoever it was seemed to heed it.

To my right I heard the scuff of a boot and I my head jumped quickly in its direction. My eyes finally made out the light of two yellow eyes drawing closer from the changing room's shadows until a body was visible along with them.

Asmodious.

"What do you want?" I sneered.

"Let's not ask questions we don't want the answers to, my dearest sister," His voice, less course and wild than the night before, answered velvety. Seductively. It was no wonder he was the patron of lust. Even I was transfixed momentarily in surprise by his smooth voice before just as quickly drawing back in repulsion for even acknowledging the fact.

Our resemblance was hard to deny. The same eyes, almost the same shade of hair (his was darker. A silky shade of pitch black), the same leanness to our forms despite his broad shoulders which I happily did not share, and the lips that I'd just credited similarity to Muramasa's, I realized were also my own. How I hadn't noticed before was amazing. He was my male counterpart. The fact was made all the more clear when I felt a humming lull deep in my blood that called to him as my brother.

He was definitely my brother. There were no doubts with just the sheer sight of him. Anyone could see it. From our eyes to the way we stood, hands tucked into the front pockets of our jeans or placed solidly on our hips. In his case he was doing both; something else I did.

Yet we couldn't have been from farther ends of the moral spectrum. Someone so indiscriminate with partners –not even against his own blood sister- couldn't be said to sit high on the moral totem pole. Willing to kill a baby, to rape his sister. I could only see him as crazed.

"Then what should I ask?" I quipped, not wanting to step out of the sheltering water. It made me feel less exposed, and hidden from his lusting, yellow eyes that made my stomach flip over at the thought.

"Depends on what answers you want," He said playfully drawing nearing to the edge of the pool.

"What are you doing here?" I repeated myself, which elicited a disappointed frown that was only half as serious as I wish it had been, "Are you here for my son, brother?" I emphasized the last word grimly.

"I like the way you say that. That open hostility is quite alluring. Why don't you call my name that way?"

"You'd like it too much," I hissed.

"Right you are," He admitted, squatting at the edge of the pool to peer down at me hungrily. Any other woman who found herself being looked at in such way may have swooned, but I wanted to claw those eyes out so he couldn't sear me with such a gaze. A gaze that made me sick to my stomach because of the reality of it. Because he was my brother, who was looking at me in a way a brother shouldn't. Not only that, the very threat he posed to my son made me want to tear his throat out just seeing him.

"You're messed up," I managed, just barely, to contain the snarl that threatened to curl my lips.

"You could be too, if you'd just let me," He offered innocently, as if he were only trying to sell girl scout cookies.

"In your dreams,"

"Always," He purred and I vomited in my mouth I was pretty sure.

"If you value your life, you will leave me alone. Whether by my hand or Vergil's, I won't let you live if you so much as threaten my son or me again," The threat wasn't empty, but my body was. If he tried something now in my current state, I wouldn't be able to ward him off, and judging by the way his eyes took in the wound on my shoulder, he was aware of it too.

He smirked, "The only hand capable seems to be out at the moment,"

"He'll be back shortly," I bluffed. I had no idea where he'd gone, let alone when he'd be back. I was beginning to feel the tight hand of fear squeeze itself around my heart, "And when he is, he'll kill you,"

"I'd like to see that," He laughed.

"I would too," I added, plastering another frown to his face, this one more sincere.

"So cold," He shivered.

"So fed up," I retorted, "I'm tired of this game our father is so joyously playing with me,"

"Mundus has his good points," Asmodious said both seriously and sarcastically is such a combination was possible.

"Humor me,"

"For one, he marked both you and me as his own children despite not having any real relation to him. Through that mark you got the power over the elements. Without that mark you wouldn't have been able to burn my clone or barbecue Abadella. Don't you think he's been fairly generous?" He answered with all the sincerity the world could offer. I was so mesmerized by his conviction that the words didn't sink in for a good, long moment.

Mundus… wasn't my father? My power over the elements wasn't my own? Was he for real? All this time I'd fretted and worried over nothing? Despising the fact that I looked like my evil father had all been in vain. Vergil had worried too. Was he saying that all the worry, hate, and self-loathing had been for nothing?

No, the hate hadn't been. My hate was still the same. He'd still murdered my mother, but then who was my real father?

"Who…" I started.

"You really want to know? I'm sure you know your good friend of the forge you summoned just a while ago," He gleamed.

"No…"

"Oh yes, sister. The very same. Muramasa is our father,"

Though the confusion was almost nauseating, the flutter of relief was almost as equally gratifying. Mundus wasn't my father… but Muramasa was?

How-

Before I could finish the thought Asmodious flicked his wrist and I was pulled from the water by some invisible force and slammed into his chest, waking a terrible soreness in the cut from my side. I went to jerk away but he grabbed my wrists painfully and I gasped, gritting my teeth as he forced me to my knees.

"Abadella really holds no flame to your dark beauty, my lovely Sarla. I've often dreamt of the day I would meet you. The nine months in the womb is a little hazy," He chuckled.

"What?"

"You don't know that either, huh?" He said amused, "Aunt Maryse really did hide it from you,"

Aunt Maryse?

"Poor thing. You've been raise completely in the dark haven't you?"

"I don't understand-"

"I suppose you wouldn't. It's no wonder you and I are so different. We've been raise from opposite sides of the tracks," He knelt down in front of me, taking both my wrists into just one hand and pulling me closer until he leaned in to my ear so close I could feel his warm breath, "Poor Sarla. You don't even know who your mother is,"

"Let go!" I shouted, wiggling and jerking as much as I could, but he was far stronger. He held me in place with such ease with only one hand and the other pressed lightly to the small of my back. I cringed at the touch, and felt hot tears pricking my eyes. I wanted to get away but I was held to the spot by his shear strength. I wanted to run to Vergil and throw myself in his arms and never leave them. I wanted him to replace Asmodious' soft but cruel touch with his own tender caresses. I wanted Vergil!

"I can't do that, Sarla. Not now that I've finally found you. My other half,"

"Stop saying those things! It's sick! I'm your sister!" I yelled, unable to hide the shuddering of my crying and trying to pull away even harder, putting all the strength I had into it. Still, he was unbreakable.

"Why not? It's true. You're my twin. My other half," He said it so simply. Like it was the most simple concept in the world. I wanted to scream. He wasn't just my brother. He was my twin as well? How he could think it made the situation any better?

"Exactly! I'm your twin! What part of that is okay?"

"Every part! You're mine! You have been since the beginning!" His voice finally rose, angry irritation finally revealing itself in both his tone and the strength of his hand clasped around my wrists. I gasped again, hitching a breath.

"I'm Vergil's…"

"And where is he now?" He spat vehemently.

I wanted the tears to stop. I wanted to scream.

"Unhand her," Vergil said coarsely, disgust and venom pouring from his words. I didn't see him, but when I looked up, I saw the gleaming, silver point and edge of Yamato slipped intimately under Asmodious' chin and a glaring, furious Vergil killing Asmodious with his eyes.

Asmodious paused, never taking his eyes from mine, then released me, "I guess you were right. He is back rather soon," I sensed regret staining his voice. He stood up, turning to face Vergil, who never let up Yamato's deathly caress along Asmodious' throat, "I won't quarrel with you, today," He said.

"A wise decision," Vergil said icily.

"I said today, Son of Sparda. I'll be back," Asmodious' reply would have fit any horror film, but even that thought didn't lessen the chill his words scattered throughout my body. I shivered.

"Why not settle it now?" Vergil challenged.

"I'm afraid I'm ill-equipped. I came only to speak with her. I had no intention of fighting today," Asmodious answered.

"Well you saw how that worked out, didn't you? Touch her or my son again and I'll kill you where you stand,"

"Why not do it now?" This time Asmodious dared.

"I won't fight an unarmed opponent. I'd rather enjoy defeating you seriously," Vergil paused then grinned demonically, "Then carve your heart out,"

Asmodious grinned in answer, "I couldn't agree more,"

"Good, then remove yourself before I change my mind,"

"As you wish, Vergil," Asmodious purred again, then quickly vanished into shadow the same way I could. If anything proved we were siblings it was that. We shared similar abilities, even if some of mine were borrowed.

Vergil sheathed Yamato after sensing my brother's presence was completely vanquished then gently grabbed me by the elbow and lifted me to my feet. He looked at me hard before drawing me to him. I couldn't have been more happy to see him. I wrapped my arms around his waist the way a child embraced their mother after getting lost in the grocery store. He did the same in turn, resting his lips atop my head. Holding my quivering, sobbing body, he said:

"I'm sorry,"

I didn't even bother hoping those words were his own like I always did. I didn't even bother trying to reassure myself it was real. There was nothing more real than the scent of his cologne, the wideness of his firm chest, the safety of his arms around me. I couldn't have been more sure he was there than right then. So hearing his apology, I didn't bother to say something smartass in return, or to question him how deep he felt.

"You're here," I whispered, "That's all I care about now,"

His arms tightened and he kissed the top of my head, "Still, I'm sorry," He murmured.