Incest is nothing new to this fandom but there will be some things here that have been previously untouched. If you predict being not okay with any pairing, check the list on my profile so that you won't freak out when it happens.

This happens when the novel is happening, except their ages are made a bit younger.


Math?

Homework? He was doing homework?

He stared hard. Closed his eyes, then looked again. Yes. He was doing homework. What? His brows furrowed, and his hands automatically reached up to—

—he was wearing glasses?

"You know where the corkscrew is?" A head suddenly poked through the doorway. Dante. "Mom needs it."

Dante.

Mom.

"What the hell is going on here?" he stood up, letting go of his pen—he had been holding a sword, he had been—and strode forwards swiftly, wanting to claw out Dante's eyes though he couldn't quite bring himself to touch what had to be an illusion. Dante looked around seventeen. He himself was probably seventeen. Their mother should be dead.

"…She just wants a corkscrew, Verge."

Verge?

Dante's expression was wary. He expectedly didn't back up from the face of obvious danger, but when Vergil raised his hands—he flinched. He flinched. Dante didn't flinch, he punched people in the face. Dante also didn't know he was Vergil.

He should be an amnesic mercenary, but here he was, talking about some mundane human tool and acting like they had a family.

"Dante?" A woman's voice. A pause. "Vergil?"

They did.

God, they had a family.

He cracked Dante in the jaw and his twin went crumpling down the stairs.

Which Eva was at the bottom of.

It hadn't been a strong punch. It should've went straight through, but only served to knock his brother off balance; he watched as Dante unsteadily regained his footing, one hand clutching his mouth as he stood. Blood. He was bleeding, and he didn't stop. Like a human.

They were both human.

"Dante?"

Weak. Blind. A house fed, mindless human, had a mother to raise him and a brother to care for him. He was absolutely worthless.

He was also absolutely jealous.

"What happened?" Eva leaned over the railing, worry all over her face. Probably forgot all about the corkscrew.

Unwittingly, he remembered how she'd said alcohol blended flavours. He also remembered how Dante, as a child, would 'tell on him' and exaggerate his crimes so that he'd get more food as a comfort gift.

"Tripped," Dante said, hand and blood muffling his voice. "Hit jaw on the steps."

Apparently he'd remembered wrong.

Dante didn't look at him when Eva hustled him to the kitchen, and Eva was too busy with Dante to notice Vergil's bloodied fist. He'd knocked a tooth out. This Dante would live with that forever.

His glared deepened.

Fine. He would play this game. Without his powers, investigation was useless; he wouldn't be able to spot a demon until it started to eat him, if demons existed in this world at all. If there was something he needed to accomplish with a human shell…he would do it. He would get back to the world where his mother was dead and his brother was amnesic, but also where he had power. He would prove to whoever had forced him into this cruel joke that—

"—he's an asshole, don't worry about it—"

—that—

"—don't talk that way about your loved ones—"

Vergil shut the door.

Maybe he was just dreaming.