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[forceedge]

Who: Sparda (forceedge) and Vergil (twins_right)
What: It's like a big family reunion here at good ol' FU.
When: I'm guessing after Dante and Vergil have their chat in that cheesy cafe.
Where: Sparda...Excuse me, Antonio's office.
Warnings: There's honestly no telling. Sparda wants to see his boy, but seeing as how he's been AWOL for decades, there'll probably

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[twins_right]

Most people would have thought better about posting open threats towards students or the dean on a school's message boards. And, if they'd been planning on carrying any of them out, they might have tried to be surreptitious about it.

Most humans, anyway.

Vergil stalked down the hall, fire in his eyes and Yamato - still, to his credit, sheathed, although he didn't plan on continuing with that state of affairs for much longer - in his hand. He'd never actually gone out of his way to kill humans; he had none of Dante's compunctions about it, but unless a human was fool enough to thoroughly get in his way he was generally content to leave them alone. But whoever this dean was, Vergil had every intention of killing him. Any threats the man made towards Dante were probably sheer bravado or ignorance, of course - Vergil knew full well no human could do much damage to his twin, if any - but that made next to no difference to him. He brooked no threats to his family, even if said threats couldn't possibly be carried out, or were so vague as to barely qualify as threats to begin with.

What sort of dean threatened his students, anyway? Vergil half suspected some sort of set-up, if only because he could tell when he was being goaded. Of course, that made no difference to him, either - even if he was taking the bait, he was confident enough in his abilities to deal with the trap it had been laid for. And he couldn't not answer such threats, even if he had wanted to; he and Dante were at odds nine times out of ten, their familial bond strained to the breaking point, but he could still at least do this. Even if Dante never knew about it, this sort of thing was what Vergil had to do in order to continue to call himself Dante's brother.

It had taken him some time to find the dean's office, thanks largely to his not being willing to ask anyone for directions, but he was finally on the right track now. He slammed through the door without warning, pale eyes scanning the room for threats before the door had even stopped shuddering on its hinges.

Ironically, it was that caution that actually resulted in his not actually seeing the man he'd come to see for a few seconds - or rather, seeing him but not processing what he was seeing. Or, rather, who. The familiar white hair and ice-blue eyes almost, for a moment, convinced him that it was Dante and he'd just been the victim of some epic prank his twin had pulled, until he realized that the man's features were older, more mature - and mature was never a word that could be applied to Dante. But it was oh, so close; the resemblance was too striking to miss, too much to wave away.

It froze Vergil in his tracks. It took quite a lot to render a son of Sparda speechless, but at that moment he couldn't even formulate a coherent thought, much less verbalize it.

Well, one coherent thought.

Father.

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And here Sparda had been expecting much more flailing and shouting and the like. It wasn't disappointing, no, but it wasn't what he'd been waiting for.

He hadn't been wrong, however, in the assumption that Vergil would come, and he rose from his chair, to his full height, reaching up to readjust the glasses he wore (for show, and replacing the monocle he'd worn once upon a time), before swinging his arms behind him, clasping his hands there.

"Vergil. I didn't expect you to...Drop in so soon." Not exactly the truth, but not exactly a lie, either. "Yet it seems my educated guess was right, does it not? Come in and stop gaping like a fish. I'd tell you to shut the door, but at this point it would be moot."

There was another pause, as Sparda slowly (he wasn't looking to provoke, after all) came around the desk, hands still clasped behind him. It was more a show to prove he was unarmed than anything, and he hoped Vergil realized that. "I'd been made privy to the fact that you and Dante were here. And, as I doubted a summons would accomplish much of anything...Well, desperate times call for desperate measures."

[twins_right]

There really shouldn't have been anything familiar about the man in front of Vergil. Sparda had left when he and Dante were still too young to remember much of anything about him as he'd been then, and frankly, it had been so long that even if Vergil had perfectly remembered his father, Sparda as he was now should have born no resemblance to those memories. But something in Vergil - and he couldn't possibly say what - recognized him. It wasn't even simply the family resemblance; even the voice went into his head and flipped all the right switches, switches that hadn't seen use since he'd been about five.

It's a trick.

The thought came to his mind unbidden, but he immediately latched onto it as his last logical refuge in a situation that flew directly in the face of all logic. And, the more he thought about it, as his mind ground itself back into motion, the more sense it made. If that girl had been trying to manipulate Dante with mentions of their family...it seemed that Dante wasn't the only one they were after, in the end.

And, damn them, they were good. This went beyond mere lies. Vergil had never given a moment's thought to what Sparda might look like if he were still alive - that sort of fanciful thinking wasn't in his nature - but if he'd ever considered it, this shockingly convincing imitation would be close. It had actually taken him in for a moment, in spite of himself and everything he knew.

He couldn't even begin to devise a punishment creative enough to inflict upon whoever had done this, to say nothing of the imposter himself. But he would simply have to make the effort.

Yamato glided out of its sheath so quickly that light flickered across the office as though the glint off the blade was trying to catch up with it. "My father," he said, enunciating each word as methodically as though he were laying bricks, "is dead. Pretending to be him was the stupidest act of your life." His fingers around Yamato's hilt were white almost all the way to the fingertips from the force of his grip. "I will see to it it is also the last."

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And Sparda simply...Cocked his head to one side. He'd been expecting this, really. He had, but it didn't make it pang any less. It was also sad, to see it. To see the distrust, and the absolute denial, no matter how he'd prepared for it.

"Vergil." It was said calmly, rationally, as he dropped his hands to his side, still watching the other closely. "I admit I more than likely went about this the wrong way, but pretending?" He spread his hands wide, opening himself completely, and very much on purpose. "Hell hasn't gotten that good yet, I'm afraid."

"I'm afraid, Vergil, there is no imagined threat to you. Or to Dante. Not here, at any rate. Question all you want, but remember who gave you the blade you plan to kill with."

[twins_right]

"Shut up." Vergil's voice was harsher, angrier than he normally ever let it get. He wasn't like Dante; he didn't let his emotions cloud his judgment, kept a level head and was the better fighter for it. However, if he was stressed beyond the limits of his usual composure at the moment, he felt it was perfectly justified.

And he couldn't stand the sound of that voice. Specifically, he couldn't stand what it was telling him, what it was doing to him on some bone-deep level. Just because it was a well-executed trick didn't make it anything more or less than that: a trick.

It was for that reason as much as any that Vergil darted forward, letting Yamato lead the way, its blade sinking into the man's abdomen all the way to the hilt with silken ease. It had always been a magnificent sword - in Vergil's own, somewhat biased opinion, the better of the two his father had bequeathed to them - and it seemed rather fitting for him to use it to kill this imposter wearing his father's face.

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Except Sparda simply glanced down, to where the sword penetrated, a red stain starting across his rather pristine white shirt, before looking up to meet Vergil's eyes, his expression almost humored. "Ow."

There was no inflection of pain at all in his voice, as he reached up to lightly prod around around where the blade entered, shaking his head. "And I was rather fond of this shirt, too. Of course, it's not like I don't have others, but this one..." He trailed off, his hand wrapping around Yamato's blade (he very well knew what blade it was, as he'd carried it for several lifetimes himself) to ease it back out of the wound.

"And here I'd thought your temper was more level. That kind of reaction is dangerous, Vergil. You're simply lucky it is I, and not someone else, that you chose to display it to. Now, are you done? Have you had your stress relief? Because there are things I must tell you, and you must listen."

[twins_right]

That Vergil wasn't able to keep the blade where it was, wasn't able to yank it upwards and outwards to fillet the smug demon where he stood, was maddening - but he wasn't quite so gone in his rage that he didn't recognize the implications. Cheap imitation or not, this demon - and it clearly was a demon of some sort - was strong. Strong enough that it could push Yamato out of its chest with all Vergil's weight and strength behind it.

However much of an affront it was that the demon had dared to take Sparda's face in an obvious ploy to throw him off...the situation might call for more caution than he'd been displaying. (Not that the jab about his losing his temper made it any easier for him to rein it in.)

As the direct attack had failed to eliminate the demon, Vergil drew backwards several paces instead, out of the man's reach, and flicked the blood off his blade in one practiced motion as he focused on cooling his anger, turning it into something colder, more calculating. Fury could be channeled, after all, could be used intelligently.

"Your very appearance is a lie," he said icily. "Why would I trust anything you have to say?"

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Sparda heaved a sigh, shaking his head. "Are we going to keep on like that? You denying my existance and me simply being a little disheartened at it? Or shall we find a decent method to prove it to you and move on, because what I have to say pertains to both yourself, and to Dante, and I well thought you would be the one to take it more seriously, given what I've seen of Dante's acting out like a three-year-old with a temper problem."

His expression changed, minutely, before returning to its formerly slightly amused state. "He reminds me of your mother, to be honest. She was always so loud and vibrant."

And then it was on to something else, as he reached down, prying the hole in his shirt open with two fingers, inspecting where the wound had been. Typically, it had already healed.

[twins_right]

Vergil rocked half a step forward at the mention of their mother before he caught himself. No, he wouldn't allow himself to be goaded into another mindless rage, if only because this demon's chiding him was so galling. "Even if you were my father," he spat, "you would have no right to speak of her." He didn't lower Yamato an inch, although there was almost something like grim amusement in his eyes as he studied the demon he was pointing it at. "So how would you propose to prove that you really are Sparda? By abandoning your family, or by dying? I'm afraid those are the only things Dante and I would find immediately recognizable about him."

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"Because you were too young to know the truth of what was happening." He'd seen that half step forward, and despite it leaned back on his arms against the desk, still leaving himself completely open. If it took letting Vergil make him a pincushion to get through to him...Well, Sparda wasn't above that.

"And you act as though I don't regret that it was a necessity. Tell me, would you rather be rotting in the grave at this moment? Because had I stayed, that would have been the truth of it. Eva very well knew what she was getting herself into, and was formidable in her own right." He couldn't hold it against Vergil, however. He'd been but a child when it had all happened, and no doubt his memory was fuzzy.

"The fact remains, whether you believe it or not, I am what I am. Curse me, spit on my name. I deserve it and more. But it doesn't change anything. And it won't change despite you denying it."

[twins_right]

"My father is dead." Vergil said the words with absolute certainty, because entirely aside from that being a fact he'd always known, always been sure of...it was something he needed to believe. "He died when I was a child. And I know this because, if he had survived, he would have come back." If this demon was trying to make him believe that Sparda had not only left their family, but had been alive all this time without ever returning to them, without even so much as contacting them for all this time...frankly, Vergil far preferred the idea that he'd been killed long ago. "And he would have been there when our mother died. Claiming he was off protecting us while Dante and I have been fighting for our lives for most of our lives isn't much of an argument - especially that day. We all would have been killed then if Dante hadn't hidden and if the demons hadn't underestimated what I could survive, and Sparda never showed up. Do you think I'll accept that he didn't come not because he was long dead, but because he was off doing something more important?" He laughed; it wasn't a pleasant sound. Vergil had forgotten what genuine laughter even sounded like. "Tell me, 'Father' - don't you think that you're just making me want to kill you more, regardless of whether you're Sparda or not?"

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"And what, exactly, makes you think I could come back?" It was sad, but the denial act had to go. The blinkered and blinded way the boy was stumbling through this had to come to an end. "There are worse things that death, Vergil, and there are things other than death that prevent what we most want, and need, to do."

His expression was an honest one, which rarely happened, because that was, even for Sparda himself, a dangerous thing to show. And it was a bit apologetic, with a side of pity. Vergil just didn't understand, did he? He didn't understand that death wasn't the only thing that could hold even a creature like himself.

"If you feel you need to try to kill me, by all means, go ahead. Others have tried. Others have come close. One almost totally succeeded, in a fluke of fate. So go ahead, if you must. I suppose that's your right, to at least try. And then I expect you to act like a man, after you've had that chance."

[twins_right]

"So what stopped you?" Vergil wasn't accepting these lies by debating this, even if he had to occasionally pause and remind himself that this wasn't Sparda, none of it was true. But the questions had been bottled up for so long, unanswered, that he couldn't hold them in check - not when confronted like this. "Perhaps even a demon like you could be restrained, briefly, while your enemies attacked our home. But are you going to tell me that you've been imprisoned from the day you left until now? I doubt anything but shame could keep you away for so long, although I suppose I can hardly blame you. I wouldn't dare show my face, either, if I were you."

Vergil sheathed Yamato, slamming it home with perhaps more force than was necessary. Again, this had no bearing on whether or not he trusted the demon in front of him, or if he would kill Sparda; he'd killed on the draw before, and could do considerable damage even with the sheath. But if they were going to continue talking, then there was no point keeping it out the entire time. "And what do you mean, 'act like a man'? Who do you think has been doing it in your place, ever since you left? Who do you think has been looking after our family when you wouldn't, or couldn't? You don't want a man; you want a dutiful, unquestioning son who will listen and obey, while overlooking the fact that you've been anything but a father. And I hate to disappoint you, but I think disappointment runs in the family."

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"There is more than one way to skin a cat, and there is more than one way to contain a demon. Even one that is considered 'enlightened'. Being enlightened doesn't change what we are at our core." He shifted against the desk, crossing one ankle over the other, as Vergil resheathed. At least he wasn't taking the time to listen before striking again. "I'd wager, for example, you have no idea how excruciatingly painful it is to be trapped on any form of hallowed or consecrated ground. How utterly debilitating it can be. At least, I hope you don't."

"That is but one method to hold a demon. Blessed objects for one such as myself only hold a minor discomfort, especially in these times. Years ago they were more than effective with at least causing grievous wounds...But that is neither here nor there. Rest assured, however, that such containment can be more than brief."

He paused, watching Vergil very closely, and very carefully a moment, his face carefully blank. "And why do you think I'm even here? If not to at least attempt contact with you and Dante? Do you truly, honestly believe I would have simply wandered off into the sunset, to allow things to befall my only offspring? Truly?"

[twins_right]

"How terrible for you," Vergil replied, without any particular inflection. It was all nonsense, from every standpoint. "I have no experience with consecrated ground, or weapons, because all the enemies of our family are demons - as susceptible to such things as we are, if not more so. So I have to question how the strongest demon of the age could be caught in a trap that would have been every bit as dangerous to his enemies as it was to himself. If you're really that determined to feed me a story, you could at least make it plausible before expecting me to believe it."

Vergil allowed himself to half turn away - he didn't trust the demon not to at least watch him out of the corner of his eye, but he was sick of looking at that face - that echo of his face. "Don't ask me what Sparda would do. I grew up not knowing him."

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"Which proves that you still have much to learn. There are humans in this world, Vergil, that are every bit as dangerous to you as a demon. But worry not. They got what they needed from me first, without learning I had procreated, which is exactly why you and Dante are free to move about as you wish." Sparda pushed himself away from the desk, moving to go around it once more.

"They know nothing of you, and I intend to keep it that way. However." Here he turned, despite the blatent intent of Vergil's actions, to watch him a moment. "You requests of keeping away from Dante? Those I cannot honor. If anything, I must blatently break them. He and I have things to discuss, given his...Line of business."

He paused. "There is much talk of him, in the underground demon network back home. Not all of it good, I'm afraid."