Chapter Text
Vergil glared at his brother. His view only interrupted by the swords clashed between them. Dante was snarling back at him. Their swords met again and again, sparks striking from the metal. He could feel the vibrations in his hands with every new hit. It felt familiar, in a way. Like he recognized the exact amount of force he was being met with. The way that it matched him, not cowering beneath him but still unable to overpower him. His body had missed these fights. Had missed the way everything else melted away as he and Dante threw themselves at each other with everything they had, no matter how big or small the argument.
He had enjoyed the brief time fighting side by side with him as well, their movements syncing up and complimenting each other. He had heard Dante’s fight with Arkham before he saw it, the obnoxious gunshots ringing far past the arena.
It had been a very long time since he had fought with anyone, not just against them. Since they were young, probably. Since when they would team up to try and get a hit on their father. How fitting, that they would be going against the one trying to claim their father’s power as his own.
Arkham was strong when fueled with Sparda’s power, although he could never dream of controlling it. Still, going against both of them meant Arkham had no chance. Even if he could’ve gotten the better of Dante, and that was up for debate, he couldn’t have hoped to win that fight.
And now Vergil was that much closer to the power he had been working towards. Dante, foolish as he was, couldn’t understand why he needed it. That was fine. Once he had their father’s strength, nothing would be able to challenge him.
Vergil rushed forward. Dante blocked with Rebellion, but he gave more ground than he had previously. Vergil took the chance, getting his brother on his back foot as he slashed and stabbed with Yamato. While the hits didn’t land, each block came later and later, inching closer to being too slow.
Dante looked winded, he realized.
He kept up the attack, not willing to back down just yet. Their feet splashed around the river running below them. He could feel the way it tugged them, though not strong enough to throw him off balance. Dante must feel it too, as he slid with the current and overstepped, his attack hurtling towards Vergil and being easily parried.
Dante looked startled as he readjusted his guard, already coming back. His range of motion was becoming more limited with every swing, and he wasn’t putting as much force in as he had been.
Vergil jumped back, putting distance between them. It was odd, the way he was tiring so suddenly. His brother registered his movement slower than he should have, sluggishly pulling out one of his guns and pointing it at him. His arm bowed as he tried to hold it steady.
“What, did you need a breather?” His tone was as mocking as ever, but small pants came out between his words.
“You should be asking yourself that.” He deflected the bullet shot at him, lower than the normally precise aim. “You seem to be getting tired.”
More shots came at him, loud and easily sent flying in other directions.
“Like hell I am.” Rebellion was stabbing towards him and he swiftly stepped to the side.
Dante came at him but his attacks were slow and lacking the crushing brute force he typically put into them. They came close, blades meeting between them, and he could see the cloudiness in the other’s eyes, fighting to keep track of Yamato’s rapid strikes.
He triggered, shoving Dante back. Perhaps he could goad him into his devil form, see if that brought his strength back.
Dante snarled. The empty vastness of the demon realm was at his back. They had switched places as they danced around, and, behind his brother, he could see where the river was parted by a jutting rock.
A flash of red signaled Dante’s charge towards him. Scales poked through pale skin. Had he been that pale a moment ago? His features flickered between forms, pinching as he struggled against something Vergil couldn’t see.
Something wasn’t right.
He de-triggered just as Dante gave out, falling face-first into the rushing water. He ran over and grabbed the back of his brother’s jacket, dragging him out of the river and onto the rock overlooking the demon world. While he was fairly sure they couldn’t drown, he wasn’t in the mood to take chances.
Despite the cool air of the underworld-and the fact he wasn’t wearing a shirt-Dante was coated in a cool sweat. He pulled away from Vergil, already back onto his feet.
“Something is clearly wrong with you.” He kept Dante cornered, nowhere to go on the small rock. “Tell me what it is.”
His grip on Rebellion was loose, no more threatening than the practice swords they used to have.
“Nothing’s wrong.” His words were mumbled. “You’re just scared.”
He snorted. Barely able to stand and he was taunting him. It was ridiculous. Vergil watched as Dante hefted Rebellion back up into a fighting stance. The gray steel glinted, even in the dim light. The blade itself was unwavering, even if the hands holding it were.
Dante swayed once, his eyes flickering between open and closed. It took longer than it should have to register what was happening. Vergil lunged out at him, grabbing at his brother as he collapsed and fell over the side of the rock.
He didn’t hit anything, didn’t grab the fabric in time, and his momentum kept him moving forward. He could have stopped himself were he really trying, but then Dante would be defenseless as he fell into the demon world below.
They landed far below, bloody water splashing around them. Vergil’s legs ached from the contact, even as his healing kicked in. He righted himself, taking in the new surroundings. It would be too far to fly himself and Dante back to the cliff, and the portal would likely have closed long before he managed it. There weren’t any demons close to them, thankfully. Still, it would be best for them to move and find shelter before anything picked up their scent.
At his feet, Dante groaned and struggled to get into a sitting position. Not unconscious then. He was thankful that some of his brother’s healing still seemed to be working. Even if it was far from normal, it was better than nothing.
“What happened?” Dante looked around, caution and confusion clear on his face.
“You fell, you idiot,” he said, crouching down next to him. “We’re stuck in the demon realm now.”
“You’re the one who opened the dumb portal.”
He grabbed hold of one of Dante’s wrists. He was cold to the touch, and he could feel the way the hand was shaking. His skin was a sickly pale and the veins stood out as an unnatural combination of yellow and green.
“Poison?” he guessed.
Dante looked down at his wrist, clearly just now noticing his state.
“Dunno, maybe?” His voice wavered even worse now.
Vergil helped him to his feet. He leaned heavily and Vergil would have to carry Rebellion as well, but at least he seemed able to walk.
They waded through the bloody water and onto the bank. His shoes and lower half were soaked through, boots squishing with each step. The sky was a solid mass of gray, offering no berings. He had no clue where to go, choosing to just go straight and hope they found someplace suitable to camp out at.
“Arkham,” Dante mumbled, seeming half-out of it, “he poked me with something. ‘Fore you cut in.”
He hoped whatever it was ran its course soon. He had no doubt that he could survive in the underworld, but watching over a weakened Dante would complicate things.
He kept them moving, casting his senses out to make sure no demons caught wind of them. It was dark, and the landscape had little variation. Everything smelt like death, his brother not excluded. His breaths were labored and shallow, but he kept going. Even if his feet were dragging and Vergil was doing most of the work.
He had planned to stay in the underworld from the beginning. With their father’s power, the hordes of demons wouldn’t pose a threat. It’s not as if he had much connection to the human world. And for the connections he did have, he would get strong down here, defeat anything that could be a problem, and return once he had the strength necessary to protect them and himself. He could still do that. He would protect Dante until this poison wore off. He would take care of any demon that came at them. He had planned to fight Mundus, to defeat their father’s enemy. To free himself from the demon’s army, which had chased him since childhood. He still would. He would just have to make sure Dante was recovered before he did.
The flat ground gradually became uneven. It was rockier, small hills and crags forming in the horizon. He could smell demons too, and maneuvered them to avoid dangerous paths. Dante was stumbling along, clearly tired.
There was a gap between the rocks. He dragged them towards it and found a small cave, capable of keeping them out of sight of anything that went by. It wasn’t particularly large, and he was close to scraping the top when he stood up, but it would work.
“Rest,” he said, laying Dante down.
Vergil took his jacket off and sat down next to his brother. With his back against the wall and his legs spread out, there were a few extra feet of room. He could see the curve of the entrance and there wasn’t any other way in or out as far as he could tell. If he needed to fight, it would be best to get out in the open where he could properly wield Yamato.
Dante’s head lolled against his shoulder. His hair tickled Vergil’s shoulder and he could still feel the sweat. If anything attacked them, he would have to remove himself from his brother’s cuddly nature, but for now it was fine.