Assassination's note: Yes, I've seen Vergil's Downfall, but I'd rather think of what would have happened if he hadn't gone down the, I need more power, path.

A little forewarning, some of what happens in here is a little vindictive. But keep in mind that the betrayal Vergil feels is still fresh and most people are extremely sad or angry or both until the hurt stops. Then they can think more clearly. However, in this fic, the 'think more clearly' doesn't happen. It focuses on the freshness of emotional pain. Not to mention it kind of shows just how much Vergil doesn't know about Dante. Since in the game it was mostly just 'go here, do this, do that' with little time to actually have them sit down and talk to catch up.
Also wrote this in one go with a quick skim over. I'll probably see some errors later and fix them then.

Russian translation by Voskhodov here: ficbook readfic/5935636

In a way, Vergil wished he didn't care as much as he did for Dante to begin with.

Perhaps if he hadn't, if he'd snuffed out the feelings of a childhood remembered, had barricaded himself as Dante had and blocked out all the joy he'd felt when he finally found him...maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much. This betrayal, loneliness and pain. The fact that Dante chose the humans over him, his own flesh and blood. Had chosen to damn a potential greatness before it even flourished.

He placed a hand over his chest, putting pressure on the wound Dante left, in an attempt to slow the flow of blood. His glove was wet and sticky, soaked in crimson and thoroughly destroyed. He limped up the staircase to his apartment and occasionally slumped against the wall to catch his breath.

This almost hurt just as bad as Dante running him through with Rebellion. A close second, because the injury was taking what seemed like forever to heal. Maybe it was too deep, too jagged, to scab over and seal itself shut instantly.

Each time he had to stop, it gave Vergil time to remember just how it had come to this.

It was his fault, that he was sure of. He wasn't vain enough to believe he was entirely blameless. He'd blundered when Dante and Kat looked at him as if he were a monster and Dante asking if they'd be like Mundus. That's when it went south. It had to be.

Vergil had expected them to be on board with the idea of ruling. They'd be fair, not do what Mundus had done, let the humans roam free and protect them. Respect them. Not subjugate them to oppression. He didn't think he was being obtuse, but they didn't seem to see things the way he'd envisioned.

Maybe he shouldn't have called the humans 'subjects.' It was rather medieval and wasn't a word one should use to persuade.

However, Dante...

Dante seemed to decide that Vergil was nothing but the scum of the earth. Thought that he had every right to be upset and angry.

As far as Vergil recalled, since the beginning, Dante didn't care about what happened to the city. Didn't give any second thoughts to all the wrongness going on and would have walked out if Vergil hadn't told him that he could help Dante remember his past. Even then, Dante seemed to just stick around for the ride. His brutality and his thirst for destruction then put toward a good cause.

He only stayed because he had no where else to go.

He may have formed a bond with Kat, but Vergil had cared for her first.

Vergil had given both of them a home, asked if they would join him and fight the good fight.

Dante simply sat around, ramped up a reputation of sex and violence. He didn't stop to consider he could do more and yet there he was, getting upset and angry for no reason. And it did nothing to soothe Vergil's ruffled feathers from the accusation he'd thrown at him.

He didn't understand why Dante couldn't see that humans were exactly as he'd described. 'frail,' 'like children' and 'needing protection.' They didn't work how they did, couldn't survive fighting the demons that now roamed the city, they needed to be educated and taught how to survive. Just as Kat had.

Perhaps that's the second time he messed up. Calling Kat 'useful' had seemed, now that he thought back on it, heartless.

Vergil cared for her as well. Could they not see this? Even if he'd been so focused on taking Mundus down, thinking all the pieces were in place to call 'checkmate,' he still cared.

Apparently they weren't able to see past the future he'd thought of them having, but with both Dante and Kat twisting it up into a grotesque, warped version.

How dare Dante get upset when he hadn't cared for anyone besides himself for all these years after their father separated them.

It was the first time their swords crossed and the clash of steel rang through the air.

That was his third mistake.

Vergil may pick up Yamato every once in a while, but Dante had gone into Limbo millions of times over the years. He may be brash and graceless when he fights, but Dante's merciless. When it comes down to it, Vergil was no match in any regard. He could hold his own, but he'd be overpowered in no time.

He should have known better than to trust in Dante completely after Dante remembered that they were brothers. He shouldn't have believed Dante would stay by his side.

Should have known Kat wouldn't stay either.

Apparently family meant nothing in the end.

It's all Vergil really wanted since he remembered having a mother who would run her fingers through his hair and hum a lullaby. How he had a father who would chide them whenever they broke something during a mock spar. Remembering Dante holding a hand out to help him up off the floor with a smile full of teeth.

His adoptive parents did nothing of the sort. He simply existed, life cushioned by money and left to his devices.

Lonely.

He'd been so lonely, and all he had was his memories of his family to give him comfort. Now that's all he had since Dante made it perfectly clear he wanted him dead.

Vergil curled his fingers into a tight fist, clutching tight to the fabric of his jacket and pushed himself onward. A small trail of blood was left behind, barely noticeable the further up he went. He soon reached his apartment and reached into his pocket to pull out the key. Unlocking the door and opening it, Vergil stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

He locked it, both out of habit and because anything that tried to break it down would then alert him to its presence.

He trudged over to his couch and turned, placing a hand on the arm as he slowly lowered himself down. Gritting his teeth, Vergil swallowed and leaned back with a soft sigh. It still hurt to move and he wasn't sure at this point if he was anywhere near done healing. He released his death grip on his jacket and unbuttoned it, peeling it off to then drape over the arm.

Vergil grimaced at the sight he was greeted with. His shirt was worse off than his jacket and he knew it couldn't be salvaged. The smell of blood was strong and Vergil was more than happy to get his shirt off. Only to see that his worry wasn't unwarranted once he saw the damage done to his chest.

The wound was still dripping some, mostly stitched back together, but as he gently prodded around it, Vergil knew that there was a possibility it might become a scar. Highly unlikely if he looked back on all the others he could have had, but the chance was still there.

He just hoped it wouldn't.

Not if it would constantly remind him of the pain he's endured since his 'family' tore at the seams. A grisly reminder of something very dear being lost.

He placed his hand over it and closed his eyes as he took deep, steadying breaths.

If only he hadn't cared so much.

Then maybe it wouldn't hurt this bad.