AN: Hell, I felt inspired to write a DMC3 Christmas fic, so, here you go.
...On another note, I thought today was Christmas. My stupidity baffles me sometimes. XD

Disclaimer: I don't own DMC3

Any normal person might’ve perhaps felt a little remorse at being alone around this time of year. That remorse was absent in his eyes, for he saw it only as a weakness; he chose that one feeling, that one bit of sadness, an emotion that he should never, ever reveal.

Maybe it was because that feeling used to be absent from his heart.

It was raining on Christmas Eve, a freezing rain that pounded against a mass of silver hair. His eyes were hidden beneath the tresses, icy cold eyes, downcast to the ground. The man was numb to the cold; his blue overcoat kept him warm enough. The stranger...he was not dressed like a normal person would. He almost looked like an aristocrat in appearance.

He knew not whose doorstep he sat on, nor did he care. For Vergil did this every year on Christmas Eve. He knew not why, but he did it. The half-demon raised his hollow eyes to the rain, Christmas lights blurred among the falling water droplets.

And every time he did this, he felt a pang in his heart that would cause him lower his gaze, once more. His memories would traverse over to when he was younger, when he was actually happy. But when that would happen…he’s just forcefully push them away, claiming they made him weak.

But he still did not know why he continued to do it.

Vergil didn’t even budge when he heard footsteps approaching. For a normal person, this would have been nearly impossible to hear over the pouring rain. Then again, Vergil wasn’t actually normal. And whoever it was…they were nervous, anxious, scared, maybe? Vergil couldn’t really concentrate on the feelings, for his were running amuck in his mind.

They stopped right in front of him.

He vaguely wondered for a second or two if this house belonged to the stranger in front of him. His Yamato was next to him, however, and if necessary, Vergil would waste no time in eradicating the intruder if they so asked for it.

“…Vergil?”

Now this made him look up. He raised his emotionless eyes slowly, as if to take in this appearance, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Pink boots…as soon as he saw those he was absolutely sure of their owner. He held his gaze firmly onto two different colored eyes, causing the possessor to slightly move backwards a step. She held an umbrella over her head, and was continually biting her lip. It was her, all right, that girl…Lady, was it? The one with the scar on her nose, Arkham’s offspring…

She bore the same clothes from their previous encounter, but Vergil thought nothing of it; Lady didn’t seem the type to accessorize, after all. She kept staring at him, making Vergil’s temper slightly rise.

“Why are you here, woman?” he hissed lowly, taking extra care to emphasize woman as if it were pure venom. What surprised him is she did not make any movement to leave; perhaps he had underestimated her?

“…Why are you here alone?” Her question was uttered so softly, Vergil was thankful he had sensitive hearing. For a second, he thought only about remaining stoic and silent, just to see how long she’d remain there, but he changed his mind and spoke with a short tone:

“Why are you asking? Does it really matter to you if a demon is alone on Christmas Eve?” Oh, how he regretted those words as soon as they left his lips! He cursed himself a thousand deaths as he realized he just let out what he had been holding in, barely, over the past few years. Vergil hoped to whatever god that was out there that she did not catch on.

The gods must’ve hated him.

Her sympathy that flashed on her face made him seethe with anger. Sympathy…sympathy from a human? His hand slipped right to his sword, a motion Lady did not take notice of. At least, he thought she hadn’t taken notice of.

Lady, with eyes lowered to the ground, sat next to Vergil, positioning the umbrella so it provided shelter to the pair. Neither said a word, and Vergil’s hand slipped from the hilt of his sword. There was just silence, two quiet souls lost in the rain, lost in loneliness.

“…I’ve always been alone for Christmas, ever since my mother died…” Was he supposed to feel sorry for her? Or was this just a way of a human’s attempt to relate to him? “When she died, my father shut himself up in his lab. I’d just sit alone outside in the rain, just like this, and-”

“Are you trying to make me feel bereavement that you have no company on…this night?” he cut her off so harshly that a look of hurt flashed across her face. She said nothing…and the silence was unnerving to Vergil. Vergil watched wordlessly as she dug her boot into a puddle of water, a pitiful way of a human occupying himself when he had been shunned. Lady slowly got to her feet, hopping off the step with a cat’s grace, despite the wet cement. She looked at him sadly, rain pouring down around her.

“You know…Vergil,” he flinched, inwardly, “I-I’m, well, what I mean to say is…if you don’t have a place for the night, you could, er, stay at my house…” He said nothing, just continued to stare at her. Emotions…emotions caused only trouble, death…he could not bear it…

…But for so long…for long he had been alone, by himself….

She held her hand out.

And he took it.