Chapter Text
With a bright flash of blue, that momentarily distracts Dante from killing the last Empusa he is wrangling down, Vergil decimates the nest full of eggs they have found in one of the abandoned houses.
"This does not seem a particularly noteworthy event," Vergil comments, neatly sidestepping a spray of viscera with a bit of teleportation.
So fussy. Dante grins at him from the other side of the road, sadly outside the splash zone. He is very tempted to goad his twin into a wrestling match right in the middle of the mess, just to get the joy of hearing Vergil grouse about having to touch disgusting liquids. That's always so funny and may distract him from his skittering thoughts. Ambling through all these painful memories of theirs is admittedly starting to take a little bit of a toll on him. Enough so that he is beginning to toy with the idea of calling it quits. There is still so many points in their lifes that they could fix, but he would really like break from all these memories.
"Mhm," he belatedly answers Vergil's implied question when his brother looks over suspiciously. Oops, silent too long. "Wonder where we even are right now. For sure not in Redgrave or Capulet. Or even Fortuna."
They are wandering through the wreckage of a town, dispatching any creepy crawlys skittering about. Dante genuinely has no idea when or even where they have landed this time and neither does Vergil. It's strange. Their portaling has always plopped them right in the middle of life changing events up until now, even if they still have only barely a handle on actually targeting it properly. It's a lot more guesswork than anything else, building these pathways through time. But it kind of seems that this is their first fluke. Seems to just be a random demon hive he probably hunted down in the past and promptly forgot about. He's pretty sure he feels his own energy up ahead and there is an underlining malevolent presence permeating the air that's somewhat concerning, but other than that there is nothing of note here that could tell them when they have landed.
"Wanna check out on that energy output further ahead? Pretty sure that's where I am right now."
Vergil simply nods, shaking the Yamato out as he turns. He also very deliberately steps over a large puddle of what Dante thinks is Nidhogg goo. So very fussy. Dante would try to trip him into it but there is unease bubbling up in his gut that he can't place right and it's distracting. He disappears the Dante into the ether with one last slash to decapitate the Empusa he has held prisoner till now.
They are turning the corner of another building when the presence of his other self abruptly disappears, leaving no trace of himself behind. Huh. A portal, maybe? To cut off so sharply? Dante has entered many a portal on his hunts, though, so that doesn't narrow the timeline down any either. Two towering sky scrapers come into view around another corner, a dark red light pulsing between them, a small concentrated rift to hell.
Oh. Right. That finally jogs the braincells enough.
That weird, insane business man trying to fuse himself with the newest big bad that crawled out in Mundus absence. Or something like that. If he remembers that right. What was his name again? A something. Adam? Arthur? ... Actually, did anyone ever tell Dante the name? If yes, he definitely forgot it by now.
The redhead, Lucia, was with him back then, right. She kept in contact with him for some years afterwards. Brought good business when she found something too much to handle on her own. But that fizzled out pretty soon once she realised he wasn't a very social or even engaging person. Probably for the better. He was quite far from his best back then, after all.
Dante's mood sours on his tongue and the unease slowly bubbling in his stomach ever since Mallet island grows large. He comes to a stop staring up at the portal, suddenly arrested by something he can't, won't, name.
If the sudden disappearance of his own energy was the younger Dante stepping through the portal to hell, then Lucia is probably around here somewhere. He doesn't know what she did after he went to go fight the newest demon king. An inherently forgettable demon king, as aptly demonstrated by the way Dante can't recall a single thing about it right now.
The aftermath, though, is a very different beast.
He remembers that all too well.
Wandering hell for months, maybe even years. Lost and tormented and incapable of escaping his own guilt. Still harbouring some forsaken hope to find even a trace of Vergil's old path, something to remember him by not as that broken corpse Dante left him as. Searching for even a fragment of his twin in an useless bid to alleviate even a tiny bit of the shame and grief consuming him.
All for nothing in the end. Nothing there for Dante to find. He returned to the human world empty and utterly defeated when he couldn't handle being down in hell for any longer. More convinced than ever of the curse of his own existence. The years after that are an endless sea of pain and numbness in his memories, blending into each other until he cannot properly tell them apart any more. He was a broken thing, going through the motions at best, half a step before the grave.
Remembering how bad off he was at this time is-
His breath hitches.
This hunt had nothing to do with Vergil. Nothing with Sparda, even. Just a power hungry man and a power hungry demon, forgettable and unremarkable.
But suddenly Dante can't stop thinking about it, can't stop remembering. Like a dam breaking open to remind him of all the many failures of his youth.
Vergil's lifeless face when the armour crumbled under his sword, intermixed with breaking the armour apart with aching fingers.
The cut searing into his hand and the spray of blood as Vergil fell off the tower all jumbled up with seeing it blow sky high and little Vergil's snarl about it.
Urizen's taunting words, V nearly stabbing him with the Sparda, the way Vergil towered above him when he reformed.
All those years he has seen his brother around the shop as Dante talked to nothing but his own mind, incapable of handling the loneliness and drowning in enough alcohol to kill anyone else. Broken, hellish mirages never more than a pale imitation of the real thing, when Vergil was long dead, dead at Dante's hand-
Like a switch the old feelings surge up, stirred from the thousands of reminders of the past few days adding up into a maelstrom. It's like being here makes it all real again, no matter that Vergil is right behind him, alive and well and-
Is he?
His insides freeze. Is he? Is he?
Dante throws his head around desperately, eyes frantic as he searches for his twin's abruptly elusive presence. Vergil was a step behind him. He knows Vergil is there. Right? He catches himself on a a nearby wall when he is suddenly, horribly nauseous, vertigo making him sway.
Where is Vergil? Where is Vergil? Dante can't find him, he can't see him anywhere, is he-? Dante thought- but he can't seem to find- was it all just a-
"-listen, Dant-?"
A voice rises over the loud ringing in his ears but the meaning of the words slips away, refusing to register as he looks widely around, eyes flittering all over the place. Nothing, there is nothing, he is all alone, no no no-
His breath stutters in his chest, his throat abruptly closes up.
Some part of him knows what is happening. Knows that he is having a panic attack, brought on by the sudden memories of this time and all the visceral reminders of what they have endured. Eva told them about it, after first Vergil and then Dante succumbed to one right after the other, a few weeks into their abrupt return to childhood. The first of many as they both finally felt save enough to begin working through what happened.
He knows that his twin is right there with him, trying to talk to him, that he just has to reach out to touch. No matter what his eyes tell him. Vergil is right there. He needs to calm down and breath but there's a disconnect between his brain and his body, and he can't make himself reach out, frozen in terror.
He pants for breath and sinks all the way down to his knees as weak legs give out under him. Fine. Sitting. That's fine. The painful landing only makes his chest tighter. His legs are twisted uncomfortably under him, his palms sting for a fleetingly bright moment where he scraped them trying to break the fall, but he can't move to get more comfortable. More vertigo makes him sway to the side but something is there to stop him from falling, so he just... sits. Wheezes. Tries to claw some awareness and breath back from this horrible storm inside him. There is a voice that's telling him to breathe, but his lungs refuse to work. His throat is locked tight and all he manages is another hoarse cough when he tries to follow the counting instructions.
He really needs to pull himself back together. Vergil is right there, the reasonable part of his brain whispers, neatly drowned out by the wailing of all the rest. Too damn busy drowning in fear and trying to remember how to breathe. So he sits and struggles for air and waits it out.
It takes far too long to calm down, he really should be better at this by now.
"-Love seeketh not itself to please,
Not for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.-"
Vergil's voice finally manages to filter into his fraught mind and Dante latches onto the familiar rhythm of the poetry. He forces his breath to match the hypnotic staccato of the stanza and slowly his throat opens up enough for deeper breath. He stays there, listening to his brother recite poems so comfortingly familiar. Focuses on the carefully steadying hands Vergil has on his arms, warm focus points in the slowly waning storm of his mind.
When his twin comes to the end, Dante's breath is calm and he blinks blearily through the hazy mist that has settled over him.
"Dante?" Vergil asks, and he looks up into his eyes, feels himself drawn into a warm gaze.
Reflexively Dante draws on the mask of the lackadaisical man, trying to shield himself under that knowing gaze and make that worried furrow between his brother's brows go away. It's stupid and utterly unnecessary and actually a bit insulting to his twin, really, but he can't help it right now. He opens his mouth to say something, brush away what just happened, but Vergil swiftly beats him to it.
"Brother."
It's all it takes. Dante blinks, closes his mouth with a grimace and falls forward into him instead.
Strong arms pull him tight, steady and right there where they have been the whole time. Vergil lifts a hand to the back of his head, pulling him even closer. It's the most grounding thing Dante knows, the one thing that will always, always mute his spiraling, dark thoughts. Still, he can't help to try to reassure his fretting twin. "It's fine, I'm fine-"
"Don't lie to me, brother."
Dante's jaw clicks shut. He bites his cheeks instead even as a helpless smile dances at the corners of his mouth despite himself. All the carefully crafted pretence that has gotten him through a lifetime of pain and it crumbles so very easily under his brother's touch. He stays silent and swallows all the stupid deflections back down. Buries his head in his brother's throat instead, and simply breaths in tandem with him.
Always Vergil is there to pull him away from any ledge he finds himself teetering on. Even those he himself only notices too late. Perhaps especially those. He is so lucky to have him now. He dearly hopes he does the same thing for his twin.
Above his head Vergil sighs. It ruffles his hair and Dante's lips twitch again.
"It's been too much. We did too much too fast," Vergil says, discontent but matter of fact.
Dante pushes more of his weight into him and the arms grow tighter in response. Still, with an unhappy hum he has to concede the truth. It echoes his own thoughts of before, after all.
"'s not your fault." His voice is too rough from the knot that's stuck in his throat. He swallows against it.
The warmth of Vergil's embrace makes the exhaustion from the emotional nosedive grow bigger.
His twin sounds so very unhappy when he answers, "I should have noticed the toll it's taking on you. Especially after Mallet Island."
"Not everything's your responsibility or fault, Verge," Dante mutters back, sneaking his arms around his brother's waist to hug him back properly. "You had your own memories to deal with. And I am very good at hiding things. Even from you."
His twin grunts even more unhappy but even he has to concede to that. Dante tries to pull back enough to make eye contact but Vergil won't let him, hand firmly keeping his head pressed down. Probably for the better with the way his vision is kind of swimming a little bit.
"It doesn't matter," Vergil mutters, "We will take a break after this one. Go home and rest."
Dante grinds his forehead into his shoulder, rubbing tears away into the leather of the blue coat. That sounds like a lovely plan, actually. Both of them desperately need a break. The uneasy knot in his stomach lightens a little bit. This wild goose chase through time is all well and fun, but the emotional whiplash of it is giving Dante anxiety. As aptly demonstrated by his breakdown just from being reminded of the darkest period of his life.
He nods against his twin's throat. "Yeah, sounds good."
Vergil stays silent, digging his fingers deeper into Dante's back, pulling him impossibly closer. They don't shake. Vergil never shows such outwards signs of his disquiet. Both of them desperately need a break. Dante knows exactly what kind of stupid thoughts this all is bringing up in his brother's head. They are alike in that, after all.
He digs his own knuckle into his twin's kidney until Vergil grunts. "Stop feeling so damn guilty. This is not your fault."
"Hm. I am the source of much of the strife that befell us both."
Annnnd there it is.
Parading through much of their lives to get a front-row seat of all their worst choices from an outsider perspective with little to no preparation for it isn't the best for the mind, turns out. Dante is too tired to refute his twin's point right now. Still.
"I'm so gonna argue with you on that, when I feel better," he mutters exhaustedly, "Just you wait. Gonna prepare proper arguments and all that debating stuff you love so much. Cue cards. Alphabetically sorted."
Vergil snorts but doesn't bother acknowledging the threat. Dante narrows his eyes. He is so going to do it now. There will be an excrutiatingly long lecture. Vergil isn't the only one that can do those. Probably. Maybe. Dante's never done one before, so he doesn't quite know if he has the endurance for it. It always looks tedious from the outside, but he will pull through for this. He's been on the receiving end of enough, he figures he has the experience at least.
Wait actually. There is an expert in their family for this. With Dante very handedly demonstrating he still has a nasty habit of trying to hide things, and Vergil's need to hoard all the blame he can get his paws on, maybe they both just need a proper lecture from mam.
But that's all for later. Dante is too tired to think more about it right now. Stupidly emotional upheavals and revelations always leave him desperately needing a nap. His whole body feels like lead. It's good they don't have a strict timetable here, he thinks as he nearly drifts off in his brother’s arms.
"You go get Nero," Vergil says, after what feels like hours. "I will go deal with the demon." And Dante's younger self, he doesn't add.
His mourning, lonely, deeply fucked up younger self.
Dante twists his mouth but can't think of a proper argument before Vergil steamrolls on, determined.
"You spared me Nelo Angelo, I will spare you this. We will meet in the shop. I'm sure Nero will love the monster heads on the walls."
Damn Vergil for being so good at arguing. Dante squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment, knowing it's probably the best course of action and hating it all the same. He chews his cheeks until they nearly bleed. "You sure?"
Vergil is likewise silent for a long moment. When Dante finally looks up in search of an answer there is a smirk crawling over his face.
"Really, between whatever lurks in hell and Nero, my job will be far easier than yours," Vergil says with a mockingly arched eyebrow and Dante stutters out a helpless laugh.
Unbelievable.
"You-"
"I doubt Nero is any less willfull at eleven than he was as a teenager," Vergil continues mercilessly, probably remembering the shouty kid he had to deal with in Fortuna.
Nero did have quite a lot of loud and violent opinions about what was happening. Opinions backed with many a drop kick, clearly his most favoured way of communicating with any blood family. It's rather amazing to see how much his nephew actually mellowed out after his rebellious teenage years. Dante kind of didn't notice the first time around, what with the gradual change.
He snorts and bumps his forehead into Vergil's shoulder, retaliation and thanks both. His brother has gotten frightfully good at helping him through these episodes. They are so much easier to deal with with Vergil there, to help with the overwhelming, intrusive thoughts that sometimes still sneak up on him even now. He would have been crippled for days before all this, when he was on his own. And his brother is right, of course. Nero should be picked up and Vergil is more than enough to deal with the demon king, especially together with the other Dante. His twin's presence will help this time's Dante a lot more than he himself. It's selfish, but Dante is really, really glad he doesn't have to see his younger self right now.
"Ok," he breaths into the little shelter they make, lifting his forehead to press against Vergil's own, a small, genuine smile sneaking onto his lips. "Yeah ok. Promise me to be careful?"
"Always," Vergil murmurs back just as low, before he presses their lips together, a lingering kiss full of comfort and warmth.
Dante pushes all his love into it, all the ways he is so very thankful to be able to have this now. They can bask a bit longer in each other's presence and the rare calm moment. Recover properly. There is nothing urgent to be dealt with right now, no race against a clock to stop the newest catastrophe to be averted.
----
Finally, when he feels able to face this past of his again, Dante gets up and offers Vergil his hand. He feels much lighter already, even if he has to part from his twin for now. Soon they will be back home. He can handle this last bit. They both can.
He gives Vergil a lingering kiss as goodbye before he jumps up and triggers, beating his wings twice to gain height. With a loop he takes off, fast and hard in an effort to outrun the jittery feeling about having to leave. The reassuring weight of Vergil's gaze on his back follows him until he dips down on the mainland and finally goes out of sight with a last look back.
They are in France, if he remembers right. A little island on the west coast. It will take him a few hours to reach Italy and the island of Fortuna. Maybe he should get a Sundae along the way. He's already missing his twin and could definitely use a pick-me-up. At least he has the monster skulls to look forward to.