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A Devil's Cacophony

Chapter 3: To the Innocence Inside

Summary:

Dante and Vergil rekindle their bond.

Notes:

...There was no intention for "bromance" or incestuous insinuations, I swear (not that in any other case I would be against such a thing, it's just not meant to be in this fic). Rather, I was actually inspired to do this interaction between Vergil and Dante from seeing interactions between my older and younger brother, in the old days...

*Sigh* The good old days...

Chapter Text

The moment he caught a glimpse of the blue-clad figure on the couch, arms crossed and eyes closed with his ōkatana resting against his chest, he somehow knew exactly what his older brother was inevitably waiting for.

...Hell no.

Ignoring his presence, Dante continued down the stairs and then walked around the banister to the side of his desk and into the chair, letting his feet rest heavily atop the wooden surface. His twin didn't as much as twitch from the sound. Naturally.

Swiping his beer from where he left it, he leaned back in his seat and drank, eyes closing in what was an obvious attempt to ignore his brother's presence. "Attempt", of course, being the operative word...

"You are ignoring me, Dante."

Frowning, irritated he wasn't even allowed a few minutes of peace, Dante remained silent, but cracked an eye open. Vergil still hadn't moved.

"Don't delay the inevitable."

He shut his eye, letting the bottle hit the desk with unnecessary force. "No."

A sigh. "...I assure you, I'm not looking forward to this, either."

"Good. Drop it." He hated how uneasy he sounded with his repressed anxiety beginning to creep up within him, but couldn't care enough. The issue at hand overruled everything.

He heard movement as his twin asked, "You would deny this, despite how healing would be for us both?"

At this, he hesitated, having only thought of the negative aspects to melding, none of the good.

When they were young, they inadvertently had psychological melds all the time, and only really became aware of the experience when their father told them how important it was for them to continue doing it. Being demonic twins, they could share their thoughts, feelings and even their experiences with a simple touch or telepathy. Of course, as children, they didn't notice it was something only they could do, even when they noticed it was impossible to accomplish with their mother or father. Indeed, it seemed healing for their souls; Dante vividly recalled how fractured he felt when he was alone after their mother was killed and he ran at his brother's order...Being unable to sense and connect with his twin, his other half, was...

He slowly opened his eyes and glanced at his brother, who stared back, patient and...dare he assume he caught worry in those identical blue orbs? Sighing, knowing that if such was so he was already losing this battle, he muttered, "...I don't want to share anything..."

His twin slightly nodded in understanding, briefly closing his eyes with a sigh of his own. "There is...much I've done that I'm not...proud of, either, Dante. But I believe this is the most effective method to dispel this evident tension between us." He gave a pointed glance, eyes slightly narrowing. "...And I think I can speak for us both when I say you would rather do this than speak of our experiences."

Strange as the idea may have sounded to someone else...Vergil was spot on. Dante loathed the simple thought of speaking about what had happened to him during his childhood and pubescent life. No, there was too much that was too difficult to say that imagery and feeling would bring to focus and make clear. It was a connection only those who once shared a single organismic body could convey.

After a moment more of hesitance, Dante swore to himself before standing out of the chair. He downed his beer, then approached the opposite side of the couch and sat, but he didn't face his twin, whose eyes he could feel watching him closely.

His mouth felt dry, despite the lingering taste of the alcohol, and he found himself hesitating once again. Fortunately, his brother understood; he waited patiently, moving Yamato to rest against the couch's side.

"Promise me," he suddenly blurted, only noticing the words had left his mouth after the fact.

"Pardon?" Vergil raised a brow, turning to him.

Swallowing his sudden apprehension, which returned regardless, Dante continued to look down, hands tightly clenched in his lap. The mere thought of what he was going to bring up from the repressed and vivid memories in his mind was enough to render him timid, fearful. "...Promise me," he repeated quietly, "that...you won't judge me...after."

Vergil observed his younger brother's tense and defensive—no, frightened demeanor. This was a completely different and disheartening side to his brother he had an inkling he was going to see more of, whether it disturbed him or not. Just what had happened to him...? "Myself, as well," he softly intoned, causing his brother to glance to him. He kept a leveled expression, but sincerity broke through. 

Wasting not a second more, he offered his hand, as if awaiting a handshake. He watched the familiarity flash on Dante's face with a private smile; they always held hands as children...Other emotions then crept into Dante's expression: worry, hesitance, absolute refusal, willingness, relief, and even slight joy. For a moment, Vergil considered Dante's likely refusal once more...

Instead, Dante finally reached out and began to offer his hand as well, then faltered briefly before placing his hand on his brother's arm, grasping it. Vergil followed his gesture, and both of their eyes closed.

-:AD'sC:-

Dante experienced his memories anew, and Vergil saw and felt them in succession; perhaps his younger brother's desire to be done with them aided this process. As such, they bombarded his psyche, one horrifying experience after another, atop another, layered over another, and were too much for him to handle.

"Enough!" he exclaimed, breaking away from Dante's grasp. Eyes snapping open, he met the sight of his younger brother shaking, something he hadn't noticed during the time his senses were stuck in the experience, and there was a visible sheen of sweat upon his skin.

Eyes hazed with fear and horror briefly met Vergil's own, and then they tore away. Dante's unsteady rise to his feet broke Vergil out of his shocked and horrified stupor, and he was quick to rectify his actions. He grabbed his brother's wrist, causing him to flinch, and in that next second, he was standing, his hand moved to rest on the trembling shoulder.

"I need to see the rest," he said, trying and failing to keep the demand out of his voice, but a fierce desperation had grasped at him.

Eyes widening, Dante slowly looked his brother in the eye. In those identical orbs, there wasn't a hint of scorn, disgust or anything antagonistic, only fear, concern, mortification...and empathy.

However, the electric blue was faintly rimmed with a telltale red of rage. At them.

His body gave out and he collapsed back onto the couch, slumped and suddenly so exhausted. He avoided his brother's gaze, hating the feel of the eyes scrutinizing him with his experiences so fresh in his psyche. "...Why?" he whispered.

Gently, Vergil placed his hand back on his brother's shoulder as he sat back down, this time directly beside him. "I need to know how you survived," he responded with vehemence on his emphasis on "survived". He couldn't believe the otherwise neutral, sociable and playful man he had become familiar with was once...that. His own brother had experienced...that. "...I need to know what happened."

Dante glanced at him again, eyes half-lidded with anguish, but he was evidently surprised...and thankful.

When their eyes met, Vergil allowed the rage to gradually seep into his expression. "...And did you kill them?" he questioned, barely suppressing his growl.

Head turning to face him, Dante's expression rapidly darkened, and he merely stared his brother in the eye, wordlessly answering the question.

Yes.

Hell yes, he had.

He slaughtered them all.

-:AD'sC:-

Afterwards, Dante sat comfortably on his side of the couch, sipping on a new bottle of beer while Vergil slowly drank a glass of wine. The twins sat in comfortable silence, mentally reviewing the information settling in their minds.

Dante could still feel the sting on his back from his brother's pain, the unnatural heat ingraining the demonic symbol into his very body. He shuddered, shifting slightly with the desire to remove the cloth from his back, expose the raw skin to the cooler air...but it was in his mind. Mostly. It hadn't physically happened to him...but it may as well have. It would be some time before the images and experiences from his brother's time serving Mundus fully settled.

Likewise, Vergil attempted to cool his tongue with the saliva in his mouth, coating it, as even that warm liquid was colder than the stinging, searing heat upon the muscle lingering from his brother's own marking. If it weren't such a repulsive, degrading and simply traumatizing reminder of their pasts, he imagined Dante would be joking about how ironic it was that they, identical twins, were branded with near exact symbols from...

...Regardless, for the time being, Dante was thankful the harrowing trip down memory lane was over. But Vergil...

The elder twin was unhappy and dissatisfied. There was something nagging at him, something pressing and important. His younger brother's experiences had brought forth a plethora of feelings and thoughts he believed he was unable to give mind to since the day he was forced into Mundus' service...

For the first time in many decades, he felt a bit more...human.

He glanced over to his twin, swallowing his pride. There was no room for that, not now. "Dante."

"Yeah, bro?" Dante took a swig from his drink before looking over. The expression of remorse and...shame?...upon his brother's face took him for a loop, and he was about to comment before freezing in realization. He wasn't going to like this...

Vergil briefly closed his eyes, but it wasn't from the knowledge of what he was doing or what he was going to say. Instead, it was with the knowledge that what he was going to say and do should have happened decades ago.

"I'm sorry."

The bottle in Dante's hand nearly slipped out of his grasp in his shock, his eyes going wide. "Sorry"...? He couldn't remember the last time he heard those words, that word, from his brother...

His gaze slightly lowering, a telltale sign of his unease, Vergil continued, "I...haven't been the older brother I promised mother I would be."

If Dante thought the surprises were over for the night, he suddenly realized he hadn't seen a thing. He remained quiet, staring at his brother in stunned silence and anticipation, slowly letting his bottle rest on the table in front of them.

A thoughtful, introspective expression steadily formed on Vergil's face. "...You remember that day, Dante. We were growing apart, even then, but were still rather close. I wouldn't promise you, a half-devil, yet I had promised our fragile, human mother." He smiled wryly, gaze lowering further, and shook his head in deep sorrow and self-deprecation.

For decades, he explained, he hadn't so much as searched for his younger twin, unlike what had been done for him since before Dante was enslaved. All of those decades Dante suffered in unspeakable ways...and he had only scourged the planet looking for power, both knowingly and unknowingly working for Mundus' whims, killing thousands of innocents to do it, manipulating scores of people. He so easily gave himself over to evil...and for what, in the end?

He was so blinded by that fear, brought to light when their mother was killed, that foolish desire; even after learning Dante was alive, his motives didn't change. And when they met, both while Dante took the alias Tony and when atop the Temen-Ni-Gru, he had known something was wrong, and yet, he brushed it off. Perhaps due to their severed link or his own corruption, he hadn't so much as an inkling just how deeply scarred and unstable his own twin was. Worse yet, he hadn't even made an attempt to find a reason—any reason—why, or even showed curiosity, despite sensing something amiss.

During this entire confession, Dante remained silent. Quite frankly, he didn't know how to react to...all of this. This wasn't something he would have imagined coming from his brother's mouth. He could sense the sincerity, not just through their budding link, but in his voice and through his mannerisms. The tightly shut eyes, the shaking of his head when a particular memory ate at him, the shame upon his face and in his voice...

It was...

"Nothing to be sorry about, Verge," he interrupted, sensing his twin would have listed every wrong he'd ever committed in his life if he didn't do so. He kept his expression neutral, apathetic, staring forward at nothing in particular. "And if there was something to apologize for, I forgave you the moment I sensed you, saw you, in the ruins. That you were alive."

At this, Vergil raised his head, brows furrowing. Much as an annoyingly demonic part of him found it demeaning to be confessing his weaknesses and mistakes, his mind instead focused on how foolish Dante was being...for the umpteenth time.

Calmly, nonchalant yet overshadowed by evident sorrow, Dante continued, "The moment Mom was killed...It...That set the stage and course for our very different lives. Nothing could have been done about it..." He shrugged, a gesture made to seem indifferent. Unaffected. "So, there's nothing to get emotional about, Verge. We're alive, hell, we're spiking 300 years. I've recovered" —he pointedly ignored Vergil's expression of disbelief out of the corner of his eye— "and you're no longer a power-mongering devil. Everything worked out."

He intended to end the conversation right there. In his mind, there was nothing else more to say. But instead, Vergil shook his head, eyes briefly closed. He then motioned Dante closer with his fingers. In Dante's eyes, he didn't look too happy. But the younger twin decided to humor his brother, making a face as he moved a whole seat over and awaited the inevitable hit to the back of—

His breath suddenly hitched, body and mind frozen in absolute astonishment.

Vergil...

His brother...was...hugging him.

It was a warm hug; naturally, of course, as a creature of the underworld (even half ones), they gave off more body heat than a human. But this was that warm and the other warm: ardent; Vergil meant this hug. He felt...like Vergil's little brother, again. All at once, he was pointedly reminded how he had often felt smaller in comparison to his brother despite being identical twins, just because of his own mental imagery that Vergil was older. Against his will, he began to tremble, scarcely daring to breathe, as if it would or could ruin the moment.

"I never forgot your words," Vergil murmured, placing his hand behind Dante's head, "on the Temen-Ni-Gru, how many years ago, now...? Just as I knew there was something bothering you...there was something about the way you said that. It never left me, brother."

-:AD'sC:-

The curtain of white hair kept most of the expression hidden, but Vergil was sure his younger twin wasn't smiling, despite the mocking, scornful tone of his voice.

Dante parted his hands out at his sides, as if awaiting an embrace, and asked, "How 'bout a kiss from your little brother...?" He remained in that pose for a moment or two, watching his older brother's brows furrow, before letting his hands fall to his sides. It figured. Vergil wasn't the same anymore. You would think his experience with "Gilver" was enough of an indication that their bond was lost. Fine, then... "Or how about...a kiss from this?" In a second, he drew his beloved guns from their holsters on his back and aimed them forward at their sole target, a bitter snarl curling his lips over his teeth.

-:AD'sC:-

"Only now, Dante, do I realize what you were trying to say...and I am sorry for neglecting you and being so foolish." Vergil glanced at his younger twin, sensing he was still in shock.

It was so clear, now, painfully so. Dante had wanted comfort. Such a simple thing...In many ways, Dante was still a child during that time, especially mentally. He wanted comfort, to be comforted by family, his brother, by someone who wouldn't do what was done to him. The hug was so many...many decades late...

But never forgotten.

His trembling worsening, Dante dug his nails into the couch, fighting to prevent himself from losing his composure. But all of this...all of that...his brother's sincerity, so tangible to him he could feel it against his skin, the comforting warmth...

It brought back the bruised and broken child from out of the depths within himself.

The child could cry.

The mental barriers, so diligently erected, collapsed, one atop the other. The tears flowed freely, gratefully, for the first time in many decades. He immediately embraced his older brother, clutching onto him as if he were an anchor to the world. The child within him cried, each fallen tear in turn healing the shell that once was.

His body had nearly gone limp from sudden, forceful exhaustion. So, overwhelmed he was from the impact and relief that Vergil was alive, exhausted from the injuries he sustained on his last job, and countless more...he didn't have the mind to be self-conscious that he, a grown man, had begun to weep openly in his brother's arms.

Slightly shifting, Vergil planted a soft kiss upon his brother's forehead. This action caused the sobs to lessen, and then cease within only a few short minutes. Their link was complete, allowing him to sense there was another part of his brother currently in control of his subconsciousness: the child his brother once was that never had the chance to be.

Dante then moved, curling against his brother's side, nearly climbing onto his lap. He hid his face against Vergil's chest, continuing to cling to him the way a child would if afraid, eyes closed tightly. Knowing this was all necessary, and more than willing to comfort his younger, broken brother, Vergil held him close, resting one hand atop his head and his other arm wrapped protectively around his body.

They stayed that way, in perfect silence, for nearly over an hour. Vergil's eyes had also closed, and his fingers combed through Dante's hair, an extra comforting gesture reminiscent of the affection they were shown as children. Finally, Vergil sensed the child within his brother slowly, peacefully, fade away, lulled to slumber before joining his collective being, at long last.

A low, sleepy and contented exhale emitted from his twin, and his eyes opened as he gently broke away. It was Dante again, whole, complete. He sat beside him, upright, his eyes clear and focused despite having cried so hard. A touch of uneasiness was in his expression, but one glance to his brother's face and it dissolved to a large, thankful smile.

"Vergil...I sure as hell am glad to have you back," he chuckled, the undeniable sound of sincerity in his voice.

Vergil smiled back, placing a hand on his sibling's shoulder, and gave a reassuring squeeze. "Likewise," he acknowledged. "And thank you, Dante, for reminding me what it means to be human."

It took over a hundred years, but at long last, the Sons of Sparda were truly brothers once more.