Chapter Four - Take It Like a Man

[IV]

"Family, huh?" Dante muttered to himself as he left the girl behind with her father's body.

Right, like he didn't know about family. From the way things sounded, he'd venture to guess his experiences with family were exactly the same as hers. Both had lost their mothers, for one. He had been extremely close to his mother, and he was still bitter to this day about her death. Judging by the girl's rage, he thought it was safe to assume she felt the same way about hers. Dante also didn't have a father, and now, neither did she. And they both had family members they hated, and not in the "they-annoy-me-because-I-have-to-live-with-them" way. In the pure, unadulterated, mortal enemies sort of way.

Hers was her father. His was his twin brother.

And the irony only grew from there - it turned out that their enemies were actually partners with one another, or had been, anyway. Which meant they actually had the same enemies, so she should have technically been on his side. Though he doubted she'd agree with his reasoning if he attempted to explain it to her. Half of the blood in his veins belonged to the demon race, and that was enough reason, in her eyes, to never so much as give him a chance. She had already made that much abundantly clear.

Too bad, though. She could have used his help. She was clearly more than capable of taking care of herself in general - far more capable than most humans, he'd admit it - but if she found out Vergil had been the one to kill her father, she'd undoubtedly go after him. And there was no way in hell she'd survive against Vergil. Hell, he'd nearly been killed by Vergil. He was the only opponent who had ever really given Dante a run for his money, and no wonder - the same blood, the same power, coursed through their veins. They were evenly matched.

A human girl, even one as skilled as her, had about as much of a chance of surviving against Vergil as a snowball had of surviving in Hell. He'd run her through within seconds and not so much as give it a second thought, just like he'd done to her dear old dad.

And it was Vergil who had done it - Dante was positive. The man hadn't been attacked by a regular demon. It was obvious he had been stabbed cleanly through the gut with a sword. Yamato, if Dante wasn't mistaken, and he was sure he wasn't, considering he'd been stabbed by the same sword himself not too long ago. Not to mention, it'd be so like Vergil to kill his own partner once he wasn't useful anymore. Dante didn't know what had happened between them, but he knew Vergil wouldn't hesitate for a second to eliminate anyone who got in his way. Maybe the old man had been showing signs of betrayal. Or maybe he simply wasn't useful anymore.

Dante could feel anger numbly re-sparking in his heart at the thought. He had no respect for anyone who used people like tools, or regarded murdering humans as being equivalent to squashing flies. Dante killed demons who were trying to wreak havoc on the human world - that was all. If he ever came across a demon like himself that meant no harm, he wouldn't touch it, and he found the idea of butchering humans morally reprehensible. Demons were so much more powerful, even only half-demons like himself. For him to kill even the strongest of human beings would be like a grown man punching a five-year-old in the face for running at him with his tiny fists extended. It just wasn't right. Now, the second they gained any form of demonic power, then they were free game. But up until then, no guns or swords allowed.

That's why he had made sure none of his bullets had actually hit the girl when they had been fighting. Her determination to kill him was irritating as hell, but he'd never let a single one of his bullets so much as graze her skin. It just wouldn't be right, despite how annoying and stubborn she was.

But it was more than that, really. Even if he suddenly abandonded morals the way his brother had, he wouldn't want to kill her. Knock some common sense into her, maybe, but when he thought about her, really, he felt more sorry for her than anything else. Annoyed, yes, but dominating everything else was pity. This whole situation had nothing to do with humans, and he didn't want to see her get tangled up in it. Not to mention, despite what she may think, he did know what it was like to have a fucked up family, and he had a pretty good idea what she was feeling over the death of her father. He knew, because he felt the same way about his brother.

It was the strangest thing, really. He hated Vergil. He hated everything he represented, everything he did, and everything he stood for. He represented everything Dante tried to fight against. He was going to stop him if it was the last thing he ever did, even if that meant killing him.

But despite the intense animosity between them, the truth was that deep down Dante didn't want to kill his brother. What he really wanted was for Vergil to switch sides, for things to be like they had been so long ago, when their mother had still been alive and they had been friends, like brothers are supposed to be. It was a far-fetched, nearly impossible hope, but it was one he stubbornly clung to, even though he knew it would never come true.

He would have to kill Vergil someday, he knew. Maybe soon. Maybe tonight. As much as he wanted it the other way, it wouldn't happen. And he also knew that when the day inevitably came, despite how much he hated his brother, it was going to hurt him. It would be the end of all hope that he could be close to his twin again, the end of all hope that he could actually have a family member that was alive and not complete scum. Vergil was the only shred of family he had left.

So he knew what she was feeling - relief combined with despair. That's why he had heard her voice trembling as he left, why he had watched hopelessness fill her eyes as she lowered her gun away from his face. Her father was probably all she had left, and as much as she hated him, much as she wanted to kill him, she didn't want her hope to die.

Dante sighed, trying to shake off all the depressing thoughts. So what, they both had fucked up lives. Time to get over it. Feeling depressed over his family would only slow him down, and feeling bad for the girl would only distract him. He couldn't allow emotions to make him weak.

With that thought, he suddenly had a flashback to his childhood, back when it had just been him, his mother, and Vergil. His childhood was faded and fuzzy, and he preferred not to think about it anyway, but there were a few bits of it that were still clear in his mind. He remembered how he and Vergil would always get excited when Mom ordered pizza. It was always pepperoni and olives - Dante liked the former, Vergil liked the latter. In present day, Dante scowled at the memory. Olives. The most disgusting topping ever. That should have been a sign right then. He could recall with pefect clarity picking olives off of the gooey cheese, scrunching up his face in disgust, and often throwing them at Vergil's head for good measure. Which usually erupted into stupid little fights that were over within the hour.

There had been one time, though, when their fight had lasted longer than normal. The beginning of the memory was fuzzy - Dante couldn't remember exactly what had started it, or how old they were, though he knew they were no older than six - but the rest of it was crystal clear.

The fight had undoubtedly started off as something stupid and pointless, but it had escalated into an argument about which of them was stronger. At such a young age, Dante and Vergil didn't know about their demon heritage, but they did know that they were "special". Different from other children. More powerful. Both, of course, were convinced they were the more "special" one, and on a quest to prove it, had ended up wrestling on the floor, punching and kicking at one another with determination. Since the two were evenly matched, no real progress was being made. Finally, after about five solid minutes of going nowhere, Vergil squirmed away from Dante and darted into the kitchen...

"Hey! Come back here!" Dante promptly leaped up from the ground and ran after his brother, angrily determined to prove his strength. They weren't finished yet. He knew he could beat Vergil, he just knew it...

"Come on!" Dante yelled, hot on his brother's trail. "Don't be a baby! Come out and fight like a man!"

If a bystander had overheard Dante's cries, they would have laughed. The threat sounded silly and juvenile in the high-pitched voice of a little boy, but in the young ears of Dante and his brother, it was as serious of a threat as could be.

He had no sooner uttered his menacing cry then he rounded the corner into the kitchen, and stopped cold as he saw the glittering blade aimed at his face. Vergil stood near an opened drawer, arm extended, firmly grasping the hilt of a carving knife. The look in his cold blue eyes was so deathly serious, even a grown man may have taken the small boy seriously.

Dante's stomach plummeted slightly as he narrowly avoided running his face into the sharp tip of the blade. For a moment, he was so caught off guard he didn't know what to do, and the two stood, frozen.

"That's cheating." He finally said. "You can't use a knife."

"Are you scared?" Vergil taunted.

Dante's eyes went from fearful to cold instantly. "No way! It's just not fair, that's all. If you have a knife, I should get one, too."

For a moment, both stood frozen and silent again, Dante glaring with determination, Vergil hesitantly glancing towards the cutlery drawer, arm unwavering. Finally, after a few seconds that lasted centuries, Vergil slowly reached into the drawer behind him, never taking his eyes off Dante. His hand emerged from the drawer with a regular cutting knife. The serated edge looked quite sharp, but it was nothing compared to the carving knife he was holding. Before he could so much as say a word, Dante protested.

"Hey, no fair! That one's way smaller!"

"This is the biggest one that's left."

"That's not fair!"

"Do you want it or not?"

"I want yours!" Dante suddenly reached out, attempting to wrestle the hilt of the knife out of his brother's grasp. The two grappled over it for a moment, the sharp edges coming dangerously close to their faces, and when neither could pry it from the other's grasp, Dante kicked Vergil in the shin. He doubled over in pain, and Dante ripped the knife out of his grasp, triumphant.

But he had forgotten about the second knife.

He was so busy being exhilarated by his victory that the last thing he expected was for Vergil to attack with the weaker knife, but that was exactly what he did. In a surge of rage at having been defeated, the young boy unthinkingly lunged foward, the weaker knife in his grasp, and stabbed the hand holding the stolen knife.

Dante's face went from triumphant to horrified in a split second. The carving knife fell to the floor with a clatter, and he looked down with wide, astonished eyes at the hand that had been holding it, which was stabbed in the palm near the thumb. The knife wasn't protruding from the other side, but it was in pretty deep. A crimson pool bubbled up around the tip and spilled over the blade, down Dante's arm, dripping onto the floor.

Both boys stood silent, horrified at what had happened. Vergil looked just as surprised as Dante. Finally, Dante's face scrunched up in pain and he screamed out a name.

"MOOOM!"

"Shhh!" Dante's cry seemed to bring Vergil back to his senses. He hissed at him in a low voice. "Shut up! I'm gonna get in trouble!"

"MO - "

"Stop it!" Vergil grabbed the knife and pulled it out of Dante's hand, causing him to let out another cry of pain. The wound bled even more freely now. Dante was still staring at his hand in astonishment and horror.

"See? It's out now."

The young Dante's eyes began to well up with tears of anger and pain, though anger was the dominating factor. The stab had been more shocking than painful. In fact, despite a stinging that was pretty strong, the pain wasn't anything unbearable. He grasped the bleeding spot with his other hand, trying to stop the flow of blood, which seeped through his fingers.

"I'm telling!" He wailed.

"Don't be such a baby!" Vergil demanded, wanting desperatly not to get in trouble. They had been scolded plenty of times for fighting, but neither had ever done anything this serious before. He shuddered to think of the consequences.

"I'm not!"

"You are if you tell Mom!" Vergil insisted, still speaking in a fierce whisper. "Why don't you take it like a man?"

If a bystander had been listening this time, he or she wouldn't have laughed. Despite how young the voice was, there was a certain menace to it. He was obviously playing off of what Dante had yelled at him as he ran towards the kitchen earlier, and it seemed to work. Dante gritted his teeth in pain, with a glare more cutting than the knife that had stabbed him.

Before Dante could respond, however, Eva ran into the room, having heard Dante's scream from before. When she saw the bloody knife on the ground, as well as her son grasping his hand in pain, she let out a small cry of alarm.

"Dante!" She grabbed a dish towel off the counter and kneeled down next to him, taking his wounded hand in hers.

"Vergil did it!" Dante yelled.

"It was an accident!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Was - "

The bickering stopped when they looked at Dante's hand. Their mother was gently wiping the blood away with the towel, and once the excess blood was cleared away, they saw that Dante's hand had healed itself. There appeared to be a scratch where the knife had gone through, but that was all, and soon enough that would be gone, too.

They boys looked up in amazement, though Vergil's look was more of relief.

"See? It didn't even hurt him that bad. He was just being a wimp."

"You bastard!" Dante yelled in anger, a word that his young mind considered nearly taboo.

"Vergil," Eva said sharply, a hard expression on her pretty face, "go to your room, now. I will be there in a minute."

"But - "

"Now."

Looking a bit scared, Vergil sulked off to his room. Eva put some soothing medicine on Dante's soft flesh, though it didn't really hurt anymore and he got the impression it was just for show. He remembered asking her why it had healed so quickly as she washed the blood from his arm and then the floor, and she had just said what she always said when he asked about why he was different.

"You're very special, Dante."

"How come?"

She always sighed in the exact same way, and responded with the exact same answer.

"You'll understand when you're older."

Well, Dante was older, and though he had a much better understanding now than he did before, he still didn't really know who he was. He knew that he was half-demon, but beyond that, he still felt like he didn't understand himself at all.

But it didn't matter for the moment. As he passed the ancient walls of the evil tower, all he knew was one thing - no matter who he was, he was going to do what was right. And right now, that involved stopping his brother. He could still hear Vergil's young, pre-pubescent voice taunting him in his head.

"Why don't you take it like a man?"

Dante scoffed. He pulled Rebellion out of its holster, grasping the hilt firmly in his hand. That was exactly what he intended to do. Whether the next thing he encountered was his brother, that stupid clown, or a group of the Seven Hells, he was going to take them down.

No more thinking about the past. No more thinking about his family. No more thinking about the girl.

He attempted to push all distracting thoughts away from his mind as he continued on his journey. It was time to get down to business.