WARNING! Contains Yaoi, meaning man-on-man sex! WARNING!

Whoo-hoo! I am back people, and I feel great! I finally finished revising the first chapter of Dreams of Sweet Demise, but we’ve still got a ways to go, so hang in there for me. I appreciate the support given to me, and I am going to try hard to make sure you guys are satisfied. So without further ado, I present the first revised chapter! -

Disclaimer: …….Fine. I don’t own Devil May Cry or any of its people, objects, or ideas, but I do own Elk. He’s just a cute little uke, ain’t he?

It is said that twilight is the bridge between worlds. A bridge connecting light and dark; a covenant kept alike by humans and their counterparts. However, it is the nature of darkness to engulf light; the reason why men so subconsciously fear the dark. With the covenant having been broken, there is no longer any haven for man. Yet twilight is also a representation of life; our own darkness threatening to overpower the light which we so desperately keep dear. Demons do not care for our transgressions though- righteous or not. As creatures of our universe, we can only live by our nature. As such, it is only natural for demons to take all they desire- just as surely as the dark shall smite the light as the moon rises and the sun sets every day...

"WHOO! Hey, pretty lady!" "Yeah, baby, come on back here!" Various men catcalled to the lithe girl figure that ran past them and into the rain's mist. "Leave me alone!" She cried back, tears stinging her eyes. Their voices grew dimmer, but the beating of her heart echoed within her being, and her tears poured all the more steadily. The rain fell so coldly; so penetrating, that the girl searched desperately for an alley or a nook to find shelter in, if only for temporary relief. Finally she found what she sought, and she darted into the darkness, slipping from poor traction and fell onto her knees, gravel tearing skin beneath faded denim covering. Curling up into a little ball, the girl sobbed into her breast, knees tucked up to her abdomen as she thought back to the fight with her father... No, his father. For she was a boy; a boy who looked like a female.

"Dad! What are you doing?!" "I'm doing whatever the hell I please!" "No, you can't! Those are mom's things!" "I'll do whatever I like! If you can be a faggot, then I can be a jackass. Seems fucking fair to me!" "Dad...no...please, not her things!" "Shut the hell up, Elk!"

Gods, he could still hear him in his head!

It had been raining all day, but in the midst of the night, the rain had turned ominous; a veil of darkness that concealed and obscured the twisted ways of the city and brought a sense of hopelessness to its denizens. At some point the light mist had turn into showers of water and had cleansed the street from any garbage that had littered its surfaces. Now the accumulated rainwater had gathered into small alleys similar to the one Elk was in, and the boy shook with cold and despair. Shifting to his knees, though they protested as the skin cracked and bled once more, he lifted doe-like eyes with long, elegant eyelashes to the building not so far from his alley. It was a tower, foreboding in appearance and dark in nature. Different levels of the tower jutted forth, some being wider or larger than past layers, until leading to the top where it appeared seven pillars formed some sort of sacred ground.

As he looked upon the tower, Elk's hair curled inward to his shoulders, despite the black ribbon that held it into a long ponytail; a blanket of ivory sticking to a soaked shirt several sizes too big. By some notion, he felt the need to go to this tower. /It's strange, but...I'm at the end of my rope here./ And this was true. Elk had neither money nor the means to protect himself, other than his gift... Still, he could not fight, and the possibility of rape was not appealing. Once again shifting, Elk got to his feet, casting one last glance at the tower. /I can't go there...not yet./ A small frown crossed his face. Why couldn't he go there yet? For some reason, he knew it wasn't his time to enter that...hellhole. Yes, that's what it was. And he realized with a start that the tower wanted him for some dark reason. Elk's bottom lip trembled, and he stifled a low moan that came from deep within. Where had this sudden fear come from?

Elk shook his head, trying to clear this dread that had suddenly engulfed him. That tower had to be evil; Elk knew this for sure now. He turned to flee, hair swinging behind his back like some banner being waved, and saw a shadow emerging from the mist just beyond. Elk felt fear once again in his heart, and knew that whatever was approaching carried a great hatred with it. Just as Elk had known the tower was calling for him, he knew this figure was seeking the tower for foul purposes. Once again Elk turned to flee, but then a man stepped forth from the mist, and his heart seemed to stop beating.

Doe-like eyes were fixated on this man, unable to pull away from this god that had appeared from the night's embrace. /My gods...he's.../ Elk could not finish his train of thought as he watched the man lift his head, sapphire eyes burning with a deep fire as moon-colored bangs swept into a proud-lined face. /Beau.../ Even as he watched, the man lifted a gloved hand to his head; one sweep and his hair was slightly spiked back, revealing his face and eyes more clearly than before.

A tiny gasp escaped Elk's lips; the man was looking right at him! He could feel his cheeks burning, and still the man looked at him. Why couldn't he look away?! Oh, he was embarrassing himself badly and now the man looked angry. Elk felt ashamed now, and finally he did look away, but he could feel the man's eyes on him. /Is he still mad? What did I do?/ He heard the man's footsteps grow heavier as he neared him, and it did not help that his heart decided to add to this little orchestra by pounding faster and more loudly. Elk felt his knees give the order before his mind could. He ran swiftly away from the man in such a manner that befitted his namesake.

Vergil watched as the girl ran from him, and a single gloved-hand rested on the hilt of his blade, wondering with dark delight if he should strike her down. The agony of humans was very appealing, and surely her agony would be just as satisfying? But no, he had no time for such things. Arkham was waiting for him, and the preparations were nearly complete. A cold smile flit across Vergil's face as his thoughts raced as to how he should welcome his twin to his hell. As he pondered over various things, Vergil returned to the tower site where Arkham awaited calmly, book in hand as usual. The older man looked up as he approached, and Vergil noted with disgust the way Arkham's wound twisted and festered in its unnatural way.

"Vergil," the man acknowledged, nodding his head towards the half-demon. Vergil ignored him for a moment and turned his attention to the tower's entrance gate, appraising every detail within the ancient stone. The very pores of the cold, stone blocks that made the tower seemed to radiate evil, and the statues surrounding the small courtyard now appeared more sinister than before-the very messengers of the tower's ominous might. When the seven bells rang throughout the lands, the tower would finally be complete and would serve its purpose.

Distantly, Vergil heard Arkham address him, but he did manage to catch what was said. He curtly replied, but even he soon forgot what he answered, for his mind focused back on the girl he had seen. Something seemed off…..Not the girl herself, but something within. She could not be normal, and this…disturbed Vergil. The thought made the half-devil frown, and for some reason, the very idea that a human could possess strange feats angered him. This called for investigation.

Bars had always been comforting to Elk. When his mother had been alive, she had been a barmaid, and had used to bring Elk with her so he wouldn’t be alone at home. Now the faint smell of Schnapps and vodka helped to ease the boy’s mind, and he could almost feel his mother within his heart. /…Hurts, mom. It really hurts./ Things just weren’t the same without her. First his father had given up on life, then he tried to sell his mother’s beloved things, and now here Elk was- alone and freezing. Elk couldn’t go back home, especially not after what his father said after he admitted his sexuality.

The bar was dark and deserted, left in such a state that one would have thought it had been left alone for years, if not for the recent puddle of gin on the hardwood floor. Bittersweet music filled the room, almost as if it were calling for the euthanasia of the night so as to let the hope of the morrow penetrate the ambience of despair. Elk certainly could use some hope, if only to make it through one more day. In such despair, Elk wondered if love were truly a thing meant to be grasped, and not something that could be dangled over one’s head.

His mother had loved him, this he knew. His father, however, was a different story, and might as well have been dead for all the love he gave Elk. Such loneliness, and it was killing him. All he had now was himself, and his accursed gift. An oxymoron, but the sad truth, because he hadn’t even been able to save his mother. Elk shifted to an upright position, and he hissed as he knee cracked and bled anew. With a small sigh, Elk lifted his hand to his knee, and felt the power rush out before he could command it. Vision dancing, and feeling slightly light-headed, Elk watched as the skin mended itself neatly.

Yes, his accursed gift of healing. Well, maybe minor healing would be a better title for it, seeing how his mother lay buried in the cold, merciless embrace of death. Tears burned in Elk’s eyes, and he struggled to keep them back, but was soon distracted by the sound of another entering the bar. The pain flowed easily, and racking sobs soon overpowered the easy breaths taken before, even as Elk managed to recognize his guest.

“G-go away!!” He cried, body shuddering in distress. Blue eyes menaced him, and Elk felt his next words die upon his lips. Not only were the man’s eyes cold, but the very appearance of him was enough to silence the boy. Elk felt prone and overexposed in his current state, especially since wet clothes clung to his skin, leaving much to the imagination of others, as well as the very fact that his figure was womanly.

It was a slight surprise to Vergil that his protégé was a boy, but only slightly. After all, in the mist caused by the rain, details had been very distorted, so one could easily understand Vergil’s mistake. However, it was not the boy that interested him, but the power he dimly felt coming from the boy. /A remnant of something else./ Vergil’s eyes narrowed as he appraised the aura, and eventually determined it was not a threat. What he felt appeared to be strangely gentle, not hostile. Perhaps Arkham would have other uses besides identifying the mechanisms of the tower….

The boy was easily frightened, but it irked Vergil that he would have the audacity to speak out against him. Still, it took little effort to silence him, and Vergil smirked inwardly, thinking himself able to overcome the boy’s will. “You,” he said. The boy met his gaze, fear sparking in his chocolate-colored eyes. The dominance Vergil felt empowered him, and he gestured for the boy to come to him, unveiling the katana at his side so as to convince his quarry. But apparently threats were not enough.

Vergil was quite shocked and enraged when the boy shook his head “no”. “Leave me alone,” came a quiet plea. The boy was soaked from the rain, and he shivered from cold as his white hair curled inwardly towards his face. His eyes pleaded with Vergil, so pitifully and distantly familiar to Vergil that it angered him. Such open display of weakness…

Lip curled in rage, Vergil took a sinister step forward before darkly commanding, “Come. NOW.” The boy still shook his head, but Vergil’s eyes registered movement as the boy began trying to crawl backwards. The urge to finish the hassle was so deep, but Vergil contained himself, an ounce of curiosity preserving his train of thought. A clawed hand released the hilt of his katana, and he darted forward, seizing the boy in an iron grip. The boy gasped and struggled, but was again silenced, this time by the nails that dug into his face and tore thin strands of flesh from his cheek. A sick moan elicited itself from the boy’s lips, mostly in shock that Vergil had slapped him so harshly and in such rage.

“Listen to me,” Vergil hissed, his left hand finding purchase in delicate strands of ivory hair. The boy whimpered in pain, eyes tearing up as he felt the blood that began to trickle down his face. “You will listen to every word I give you, and you will be silent until I say otherwise. Understand?” Vergil tugged the boy forward, nose to nose with the youth. The other’s head bobbed in agreement, not daring to reply for fear of harm. Vergil sighed half-contentedly, and he released the boy’s hair, only to backhand him across his face sharply.

Brown eyes alit with shock before dulling as conscious thought was lost, and the boy slumped forward in Vergil’s arms, fragile form resting against the man’s own trained body. A stirring found its way into Vergil’s body, and his brow furrowed as he took in the face of his prisoner, feeling strange and appalled at the comfort he found from having the boy in his embrace.

After note: Yeah, I reread the original edition of my story, and I almost died. I’m serious, I was so tempted to grab the gun and end it all right there. I’m very picky about how I write, and when I know I get better, I usually can’t stand my old works. But a lot of people really like my old stories, and many encouraged me to retype them. So I gave it a shot, and I feel happier now that I’ve tried again. I can’t wait until I finish the whole story, which I never did finish typing on the old edition. So sorry to my fans!

By the way, in case any of you read my Chris x Wesker story, Eclipse Point, I found one review to be hilarious. It was some person that was trying to discourage me, but I was actually inspired by it. One of my purposes in writing is to now piss off as many hypocritical Christians as I can! MWAHAHAHA! Just kidding. My family is Christian, and I do believe in God, but I don’t think God meant that you couldn’t love the people you love. I think people have a right to be gay, especially if you truly love someone. I think somebody misinterpreted the Bible or something. But seriously, just leaving a review to piss someone off is wrong, and you should actually read a story before hating on it. And I did leave a warning at the very beginning that the story contained homosexual material. Can people get in trouble for doing that? I mean telling somebody to go to hell and all for just expressing ourselves through writing?