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When Vergil woke, it was to his brother’s presence not in his room, but already downstairs. It wasn’t unheard of for Dante to be up before him. After so long in Hell, and decades spent piecing himself back together after what Mundus did to him, Vergil’s body had no concept of time. Sometimes he would sleep through the night and be woken when sunlight filtered through the blinds in his room; other times he’d fall asleep sitting up on the couch in the lobby of the office, book open in his lap and afternoon light shining cheerily. Most times, he didn’t sleep for long; a few hours at most. Nightmares dogged his every step when he slept. Luckily (or rather, thanks specifically to V’s familiars) he had enough of a grasp over his mind that he was able to tell when he’d slipped into a nightmare, and was able to throw himself out of them with only a racing heart and a silent scream threatening his lips.
Other times, he’d woken to Dante shaking him with concern glinting in his tired eyes.
He didn’t like those days.
Today, though, seemed to be off on a good note. The eldest Sparda son woke as the sunlight glinted off the suncatcher hanging in his window. It was a gift from Kyrie and Nero, a delicately pieced together butterfly made of multicolored stained glass and copper wiring, scattering the morning light across his face. Blinking blearily, Vergil’s first instinct was to locate his baby brother.
Some mornings the Devil Hunter would be in the kitchen making breakfast, others he’d be asleep at his desk, appearing as though he hadn’t bothered to go upstairs. Vergil knew that Dante had just as much trouble sleeping. Nero had told him he suspected Dante had insomnia. From the tidbits they’d exchanged about his brother, both men were worried. Nero had said that Dante always answered the phone, day or night (as long as the power was on). Nero had called at different times just to test his theory. He’d only caught Dante actually admitting to sleeping twice over the last 5 years. He’d apologized profusely both times, but the older man had just waved him off.
Vergil had noticed similar behavior in the six months since they’d returned from Hell.
His twin’s sleep schedule was nonexistent. When asked about it, Dante always blamed his job, throwing around the “no rest for the wicked” and “demons never sleep” excuses. Vergil did what he could, but Dante was just as stubborn and bull headed as he was. No amount of wheedling or ribbing would get Dante to admit when he needed help.
So, some days, when Vergil decided his brother had been awake for too long, he took what he liked to call the Dante approach.
He’d bodily drag his brother to his bed, where they’d curl up together like they had when they were children. They’d lay there, sometimes cuddling close; others, on either end of the mattress but still sharing space, hands a hair's breadth away, reminding the other they were there, they were together, nothing could separate them again.
Both of them slept better close to their other half.
The older twin wasn’t too keen on touch. Having been in Mundus’s tender care for the better part of a decade, touch without violence was an almost foreign concept. Oh, Mundus played his games with gentle touch as well, some days delicately cupping Vergil’s face and wiping the blood, grime and tears from his cheeks, giving the cambion a brief reprieve from the pain. But always, the pain would return. The almost kind treatment made the pain worse.
Which was Mundus’s goal, of course.
But certain people had made their way onto Vergil’s list of safesecureprotected. One being Dante, the others being Nero and, unsurprisingly, Kyrie. He could exchange casual touches with his brother, despite their tendency to talk with their fists. Nero and he had worked hard to establish a routine of touch, keeping sparring to specific areas, designating violent touch to only then and there, allowing them to get used to kindness from the other outside of that. Kyrie had a more difficult time. Despite her inherent kindness, Vergil had not spent much time around full blooded humans.
The first time she’d touched him when he wasn’t ready, he’d startled so bad he’d warped across the room.
Since then it had been a brief touch to the shoulder, a light tap to the arm, recently graduating to a light shoulder bump as they washed and dried the dishes together at their last family dinner.
Eventually, the Dark Slayer knew that she would graduate to more than just touching his arms. He appreciated her patience and grace, not expecting such kindness from a human.
But, he supposed, that’s part of the reason he’d failed in all of his endeavors to garner more power. Disregarding the strength of humanity.
Speaking of….
Slowly, Vergil spread out his demonic senses, pinpointing his other half. Dante’s demonic core was at a low crackle, like embers simmering, waiting for someone to throw more wood on the fire to be devoured.
Seemed like Dante had fallen asleep at his desk again.
The elder twin took advantage of not waking from the throes of a nightmare and stretched languidly. Spine popping in several places, Vergil rolled to sit up, running a hand through his hair roughly. The strands snagged in a few places, reminding him that he’d need a haircut soon, or he and Dante would end up looking even more alike. Secretly, that pleased him. Life had taken them on extremely different paths, and the wear and tear to not only their bodies, but their
faces
had allowed them to drift away from the identical look they’d sported growing up. Dante had aged much more than Vergil had, the laugh lines and crow's feet the most noticeable. However, the minute, almost undetectable scars from Mundus littering Vergil’s body also set them apart.
Even demonic healing had a limit.
That’s not to say Dante didn’t also have scarring. The older twin had seen the scars dotting his brother’s torso, proving every time he saw them that Vergil had failed his little brother in every way possible.
Another presence in the office caught Vergil off guard. He was up and on his feet, Yamato in hand before he recognized the sharp, luminescent aura of Dante’s foster daughter, Patty.
The Dark Slayer let out a breath he barely remembered holding.
Dante’s demonic presence had spread out to shield her even in sleep.
He hadn’t interacted with the girl much. Young, loud, and bubbly, she was everything Vergil wasn’t . They had little to speak about, and Dante had told him a few of their “adventures” while they slaughtered their way through Hell. But she was Dante’s daughter in all but blood, and even then he had marked her as family in the eyes of demons. Blood ritual adoptions were rare, the kind that the two had performed was rarer still, and Vergil had yet to be able to figure out whose idea it had been.
Patty being not just a sorceress, but a Lowell sorceress, she had access to knowledge that the elder Sparda knew had been squirrelled away. Sorcerers all hoarded their knowledge, most discoveries kept to one family or faction and everyone else left to puzzle out how it worked.
But Eva had been a witch, and a powerful one. Sparda’s line wasn’t the only powerful bloodline the twins hailed from. Eva could’ve been the lead matriarch of her coven, had made near countless discoveries, was a sought after craftswoman for those who knew to look for her.
And she’d taught her sons as any witch would.
Dante had always had a talent for magic.
Suffice to say, Dante or Patty could’ve suggested the ritual.
Though, Vergil suspected it was Dante who truly insisted on it. His baby brother’s protective streak was a mile wide.
Taking another deep breath, Vergil released his white knuckle grip on Yamato, leaning her back against his nightstand. There is no danger here, he reminded himself. Patty is family.
Rolling his neck to work out the remaining tension, he eased his bedroom door open, deciding not to get dressed quite yet. Despite the brief fear of a stranger in the shop, the morning had so far been a good one. If his brother was still asleep downstairs, then the Dark Slayer would take advantage of a quiet morning.
Padding down the stairs, Vergil avoided the creaky one three from the top. Casting his gaze over the lobby once it came into full view, he froze. Dante was indeed still asleep, but not at his desk as Vergil had anticipated. Instead, the younger twin was laid on his back, his tall form stretched fully across one of the couches, one arm hanging off the edge. His other arm was curled protectively around Patty’s shoulders, as the young woman laid squished between her foster father and the back of the couch, head positioned so that her ear was pressed right above Dante’s heart, their legs tangled together.
Both of them were clearly in their pyjamas. Dante’s even had cartoon pizza slices on them. Patty’s had ballerinas.
Dark blue eyes zeroed in on the older twin almost immediately.
Vergil tipped his head slightly at her, and continued to make his way to the kitchen. With practiced ease, he made his favorite blend of breakfast tea, making as little noise as possible to avoid both waking his brother and angering the blonde spitfire.
Once his tea was steeped and sugar added to his liking, he crept back out to the lobby, grabbed the book he’d been reading from the coffee table, and settled into the armchair that sat next to the couch his brother and niece were on, facing the doors to the office.
Soothed by both proximity to his other half and the quiet sounds of the city waking up around the shop, Vergil sank back into reading.
It wasn’t for long though. He could feel the blonde’s eyes flicking to him every once in a while, staring for a moment before she either closed her eyes once more or glanced off to study some other part of her view line. Eventually, the constant eyes-on-him-but-not made his skin crawl, so he slowly closed his book and met Patty’s stare head on.
Light sky blue met dark ocean blue, and the older twin raised an eyebrow.
Patty’s lips curled a little bit in dissatisfaction.
Vergil tipped his head towards Dante.
A quiet but defeated sigh left Patty as she closed her lids once more.
“....Has Dante told you about his fight with Abigail?” Patty’s voice was so low, his demonic hearing was the only reason he caught her words. She reopened her eyes, and there was a distant look in them.
Curious as to where this was going, Vergil shook his head.
The girl hummed lightly. “Not long after we met, maybe seven or eight months, the seal holding Abigail was broken. My family was the keeper of the key for generations.” She huffed. “There was a lot of planning and scheming that went into it, but long story short, in the unsealing Dante got sucked into the demon world.”
Vergil pursed his lips. He knew his brother had been to the demon world more than once, even getting stuck there for two years at one point. Rage and old grief curdled in his gut.
“I had a piece of the key in a necklace at the time. I’d just watched Dante, the first adult to genuinely care about me, disappear, and I was a child . I guess in my fear I activated the small piece of the key, and I tumbled into the demon world after him.”
Shifting slightly, Patty tightened the arm she had thrown around Dante’s midsection. “I was far enough behind that whatever happened, happened. But the necklace led me to Dante and kept me safe. I hardly remember running through the brush, I was so desperate to find him. Once I stumbled onto him though….” Here, Patty closed her eyes, and took a breath, pressing her ear to Dante’s chest more firmly.
Throat tightening, the older twin flicked his gaze back to his sleeping brother’s face.
“Whatever happened, Dante lost . I don’t know if maybe something with traveling through the seal threw him off balance, or if he’d just been exhausted. He’d already been having a shitty few weeks leading up to the whole situation, and I still don’t know if he’d actually slept in the few days beforehand. Maybe it was a combination of everything. But–” His niece’s voice cracked.
Her eyes snapped back open, as if banishing whatever she was seeing in her mind’s eye. Their eyes met briefly, and Vergil could see a gathering of unshed tears beginning in her eyes.
“The demons had crucified him. Arms and legs pinned, with his own sword impaled through his heart. I think they took some sort of sick joy out of it. After all, there are still places in the human world that worship Sparda like a god. Wouldn’t it be funny if two gods got their sons crucified?”
She sniffled wetly.
A shiver wracked the eldest Sparda son’s body. No. No, it would not be funny . He could smell the salt of Patty’s tears in the air, though she refused to let them fall.
“He was surrounded, too. Split off onto a lake of living shadows. Sometimes I can still hear them braying for his blood. He’d already lost so much of it, it was hard to believe he had any left. I leapt out to him, and tried to pull Rebellion out of his chest. But I wasn’t strong enough. Even now, I don’t know if I’d be strong enough. Rebellion is heavy.”
Vergil resisted a snort, anxiety clutching at his guts. Rebellion would be heavy to a normal human girl. But he knew that thanks to the blood adoption, the sword would always be light in her hands. She would be its inheritor one day, just as Nero would inherit Yamato.
Dante had made sure.
He suspected there were things his brother had yet to tell Patty. Their time in Hell was still fresh in everyone’s minds, and most of the people in their lives refused to let the two of them out of sight. It was common to find one of their group in the shop during the day, and about half the time at night. The twins had finally convinced Lady, Morrison and Trish that they didn’t need to be babysat. Nero, Kyrie and Patty though, they saw the three of them often. Patty was the one who lived in Capulet, so she came over the most between school and magic lessons and research. Half the time she did her research or homework right there in the lobby.
Once, Vergil had overheard her on the phone with Nero. From what he could tell, they’d been discussing whether or not Nero and Kyrie should pop in for a surprise visit to the shop that week. Patty had talked his son down, but only just.
“I couldn’t free him.” Patty’s whispered words struck something in the older twin’s heart. “I could only beg him to come back. He was so cold. He wasn’t breathing. Rebellion was through his heart and all I could do was beg .”
Sharp blue eyes cut to Vergil, and he could see a deeply familiar fear in them. “I swore I would never be that helpless again.”
Nodding in understanding, he leaned forward a bit, eyes drifting back to his brother’s face. He looked younger as he slept. The stress of making sure his bills were paid, of keeping up the mask of the fool when he wanted nothing more but to collapse, smoothed out. Dark bags under his eyes finally lightened, just a bit.
“You won’t be,” Vergil spoke softly for the first time. “I can already tell that you’ve been working hard to become more powerful. The blood adoption ritual that you and Dante performed will continue to help with that.”
The blonde narrowed her eyes slightly. “Dante tell you that?”
“He told me about the ritual, yes, but even if he hadn’t, I would be able to tell. He made you not only his family, but mine and Nero’s as well. To any demons you encounter, you’ll smell like Sparda kin.” He hummed. “It was a dangerous choice, but I understand why the two of you made it. You would already be targeted by demons just for knowing him for a long period of time. By linking you to us by blood, it allows you to utilize some demonic traits.”
The young woman’s gaze turned contemplative. “I knew I’d get an increased healing factor. That was one of the main reasons Dante agreed in the first place. The heightened senses, those are nice. Increased speed. A deeper well of power.”
The Dark Slayer smiled slightly. “Yes, the heightened senses are nice. You are a sorceress in your own right as well, correct?”
“Mhm.”
“Then it's likely that one day you’ll be able to perform Dante’s Royal Guard technique.” Patty’s eyebrows shot up.
“I thought it might’ve been possible, but I wasn’t sure.”
“He would teach you, if you asked.”
That seemed to stun the blonde into silence for a few moments. She tightened her hold on Dante once again, tilting her face so her nose was pressed into his chest. The movement prompted a small snore from the Devil Hunter. Both of them froze, not wanting to wake the other man if they could help it. He so rarely slept for this long.
Once Dante seemed to settle back into slumber, Patty continued, “regardless. When I found Dante nearly dead, a demon grabbed me and ripped me away from him. I thought that was the last time I’d see him. But he’s the Legendary Devil Hunter. He always has something up his sleeve.” She huffed lightly. “I don’t know how he did it, but he freed himself. Forced his way back through the seal, and did what he says he does best. Killed a bunch of demons.”
Vergil leaned back in his chair. He knew Dante had defeated Abigail. During their odyssey through Hell, several of the higher level demons they’d encountered had mocked him for it, stating that they would be the one to defeat him. While his twin tended to call himself to the center of attention, he allowed very few details to slip out.
It was infuriating.
Mulling his niece’s words over, the older twin leaned his chin into his hand, eyes back to studying his baby brother. Cataloging where injuries long healed could have landed. Which of the scars on Dante’s body that he didn’t know the origin of could have come from Abigail? Faint and silvery with time, Vergil found he didn’t know where most of them had come from.
Another failure to add to his tally.
“Hey.”
Vergil’s eyes slid back to the young woman. The sun was well and truly up now. Light from the windows crept closer and closer to Dante’s face, and if no one closed the curtains, then he knew the light would hit the younger twin’s eyes and wake him, whether the other two were quiet or not.
“You know he doesn’t blame you for any of it, right?”
Vergil’s eyes darkened. “He should. ”
Patty sighed through her nose. “That’s just not in his nature.”
Voice laced with old regrets and confusion, he said “I know.”
Seemingly satisfied with that, Patty’s eyes slid half closed as she settled further into his brother’s chest. Vergil picked up his tea, long gone cold, and used a small spark of demonic energy to reheat the contents. Thankfully, Dante didn’t stir at the use of his power, the two of them so used to one another that it was barely a blip on his radar.
Turning everything Patty had told him over in his mind, Vergil allowed his eyes to unfocus. Dante was an enigma, one that, as children, he knew well. But in these last six months, the older twin had come to learn that he… has very little relevant knowledge of his brother. The ten months they’d spent in Hell allowed them to become acquainted with one another physically, but both of them were terrible with their words. But ten months was a long time, and they’d had to talk eventually. Once they did, it was a long few weeks of irritating each other, stepping on each other’s toes, and learning how to even speak to one another without causing pain.
When Dante had learned that Mundus had stolen most of Vergil’s memories from their childhood, the younger twin had detailed every memory he could recall. He described their father’s warm presence, his outright dorkiness, the sense of safety he’d always provided. Their mother’s gentle touch, her stubbornness, the way her laugh had sounded like bells ringing throughout the house. Sparda’s poor attempts at cooking, Eva relegating him to chopping the fruits and vegetables.
How they’d run out to the woods surrounding their home, sometimes finding a blackberry or raspberry bush, and gorging themselves on them before running home for dinner.
An ache formed in his chest, and Vergil found the need to move, to shake off the grief and longing for memories stolen from him. Casting one last look over to his brother and niece, he noted that Patty had fallen asleep. She, too, appeared younger than her 19 years in sleep. Her mouth was open slightly, and small snores reached his ears.
Smiling to himself, the Dark Slayer replaced his book on the coffee table and stood, tea still in hand. As quietly as he could, Vergil closed the heavy blackout curtains over the window that threatened to wake the two. Satisfied that they would be getting more rest, he made his way into the kitchen and began pulling out ingredients for breakfast.
French toast with strawberries and whipped cream would be sure to put all of them in a good mood.