AN: Three years later, I FINALLY update this story! PAAAARTAY! For all returning readers, I've actually revised Chapter 1 - 3 because I feel like they could've been much better.

Most of this chapter was actually written years ago, but I figured you guys have waited long enough. Enjoy!

CHAPTER FOUR

Dante prided himself on fast reflexes, but his body was still weak from exhaustion and he was unprepared for the sheer strength and speed that Vergil hit him with. The hunter barely had time to leap to his feet before his brother's clawed hands wrapped around his neck and threw him against the wall.

He hit it solidly with a pained oof and felt his head snap backwards with the impact. The shock dazed him and robbed his lungs momentarily of air. Instantly, years of training kicked into hyperdrive and he quickly dropped to the floor, rolled away, and leapt to his feet. Within the blink of an eye, he had Ebony and Ivory aimed straight at Vergil's head. He wasn't even thinking, he was just reacting.

Vergil cocked his head at the sight of the guns and snarled with displeasure. His demon side knew a threat when it saw one. "Foolishhhh..." he hissed, his scale-covered lips pulling back to reveal long, white fangs.

Adrenaline ran through Dante's veins like liquid fire. He kept his weight on the balls of his feet and scooted back a few steps, trying to keep some distance between them as Vergil approached. The rest of him felt shaky and weak, but his hands were strangely steady. This felt familiar and comforting, aiming guns at a hissing, angry devil.

Of course, just because he was related to said devil didn't meant that he couldn't be pissed. "I'll shoot, damn you," the hunter grunted, holding his aim steady, "I swear I will."

"ENOUGH." Sparda's demon vocal chords struggled to pronounce the human tongue, but the sheer rage in his voice was enough to make both twins pause.

Vergil was suddenly lifted off his feet by a clawed hand that wrapped around his neck. The half-demon shrieked and fought against the hold, but Sparda kept him out of arm's reach, speaking to him slowly in the demon tongue. Even Dante could tell that the demon lord was trying to be soothing.

"He is your brother, Vergil. Not food."

Vergil hissed back an incoherent response and flashed his fangs. He was angry -no, very angry that he was being kept from a potential meal.

Sparda let out a sharp growl from deep in his chest, the terrifying sound vibrating powerfully around the room. Dante flinched. Vergil's fragile-looking wings pressed against his back and he shrank visibly in his father's grip. Even on a primal level, he knew that Sparda was more senior and much more powerful than he was.

"He is your BROTHER," Sparda repeated, keeping that low, threatening growl in his voice in case Vergil needed reminding of who was superior around here. He kept his grip tight so his son couldn't teleport or flee. "Your twin. Sibling. Family."

Not understanding a single word, Dante cocked his guns at his brother's forehead just in case, but he could see a flicker of sentient activity in those cold, angry eyes.

"Family," Vergil repeated, slowly. "My family. Miiiine." He gurgled that last word, as if delighted at the prospective of it.

"Yes, yours. Dante is family. I am family, Vergil. You are safe."

"Safe," Vergil murmured. "My family... is safe."

"Yes. No more fighting. I need you to come back, Vergil. Come back and remember."

Vergil slowly relaxed in Sparda's claws until he hung limply in his father's grip. His pupil-less eyes were glazed and unfocused, and Sparda could sense that he was fighting with himself inside. "Come back, Vergil," he murmured, just to drive the point home. "Come back. I am here." Carefully, as if handling a fragile doll, the ancient demon set his nestling carefully on his feet but kept his grip tight just in case.

After what seemed like a year but was probably only a few seconds, Dante was relieved to see the beginnings of pale, human skin blooming from under Vergil's blue scales. Jolts of blue electricity crackled through the air and off the half-demon's body. Little by little, more pale skin began to claim the extremities of Vergil's limbs.

Dante didn't dare relax his hold on his guns, but he found himself watching the strangely beautiful transformation with bated breath. C'mon, Ver. C'mon.

It seemed like his brother's demon side wasn't backing down without a fight. A violent shudder ran through Vergil's body and he suddenly clenched his very-human hands against his head, as if he was in great pain. For a second, he seemed stuck in some nightmarish, half-human, half-demon form. He made a horrific sound then, something that sounded like a mixture of a human groan and a demon's scream.

Fascinated and horrified at the same time, Dante spared a nervous glance at Sparda. His father was incapable of smiling or even making faces in this form, so it was impossible to tell what he was thinking as he watched. Even so, the demon lord quietly shifted his clawed hands to his elder son's shoulders, as if offering silent support.

Dante shifted his attention back to his twin and wondered distantly if this happened every time Vergil transformed. His gut twisted deep inside. Was this the curse of carrying both human and demon blood? Was this something they had to live with for the rest of their lives?

He was distracted from the train of thought when he realized –with some relief- that Vergil's human side as gaining the upper hand.

More and more scales disappeared from the elder twin's limbs, and the brilliant blue light danced across his newly-formed human skin. When the blinding light disappeared, the half-demon had phased fully back into his human self.

Sparda released him immediately and watched as Vergil staggered back towards the wall, sinking down to his knees once he felt the cold stone against his back. His breathing was harsh and painful, and he still clutched his head with one hand, as if fighting back the remnants of his demon side that had struggled to overtake him.

With the tenderness of a creature a quarter his size, Sparda knelt and rested a giant, clawed hand on his son's head.

"Dante."

Dante started and found Sparda's glowing eyes focused on him.

Ah. Right. His guns.

Shakily, he lowered Ebony and Ivory to his side, but his fingers itched to pull the triggers. He felt so tense that he knew he'd blow out Vergil's brains if the other so much as twitched right now. "What was that?" he demanded, "That... thing that he did." Despite his best attempts at hiding it, his voice was strained and shakier than he wanted it to be.

Sparda transformed back into his human self in a glow of vivid, violet light. His gloved, human hand continued to stroke Vergil's hair and it was only then that Dante could see how badly his twin was shaking.

Again, the question raised itself in his mind. What the hell did Vergil do?

"Devil trigger," Sparda answered finally, standing and brushing off some imaginary lint off his shoulder. "It's possible for... hybrids that are half or are more than half demon. Controlling the morph, however, is not always easy."

Vergil glanced up from his position on the floor. He knew that was Sparda's way of saying that he wasn't disappointed, but he couldn't help but feel that he had ...failed somehow. He didn't lose control of his devil trigger very often, and he rarely lost control this badly. Phasing back to human from an out-of-control devil trigger required a ton of energy and self-control which usually left him with one hell of a headache afterwards. He seethed inside for showing such weakness in front of his inexperienced twin. "I don't lose control often," he stated quickly, just to prove himself.

Dante glanced at him, then at Sparda, still trying to grasp what they were saying. "I can do it, too?" He wasn't sure whether he sounded hopeful or worried. The sheer amount of power he had sensed from Vergil in his demon form had been incredible. He couldn't help but be jealous of it.

Something flickered in Sparda's eyes and he looked away, regretful that he brought up the topic to begin with. "It is... a complicated process, but yes, you can. If you want."

"I do." Dante's answer was swift and firm. The determination in the boy's eyes was fierce, and for a second, he looked just like Vergil usually did. I couldn't protect Mom. That... that thing is going to help me become better, faster, stronger.

Sparda looked at him for a long, long time, his glowing eyes revealing nothing. "You are not yet ready. There is much you don't know-"

"I'll learn."

Again, his father drifted off into silence, but Dante could sense the gears turning in his head. Eventually, Sparda turned to Vergil as his eldest son staggered to his feet.

Setting a hand on the boy's shoulder, the demon lord nodded in consent. "Then Vergil will teach you the basics."

Dante had thought this was going to be easy. He excelled at anything physical –shooting a target, beating the living daylights out of someone or learning a new weapon for the first time. He figured this was probably just a few months of training followed by him soundly whopping Vergil's ass in front of Sparda.

Much to his dismay, the first thing his twin did when their father declared him Dante's 'teacher' was to drag him to what only be described as a private library of some sort. It was a small, dank chamber with dim torchlight, gothic archways and the oldest looking books Dante had ever seen.

The younger twin looked around warily, feeling completely out of his element. "Where the hell did you guys get all these?" He squatted next to a pile of books that looked like they had been sitting there for longer than he had been alive. He blew some dust off the top of the front cover and ran his hand over the binding. Feels like... scales. "These books look like they're from the Middle Ages or something."

"They are. They span at least two millennia."

"Our old man collects these or something?" Dante picked up the thick tome he had been studying and flipped it open. "This is in the demon tongue. I didn't think demons made books."

Vergil chuckled. It was the closest thing Dante had heard to a laugh from his brother since their reunion. "Foolish brother," he snorted, "Father wrote most of these."

Dante looked up with a startled frown. "What? Why the hell would he-"

"Boredom, Dante," Vergil said with a shrug, taking the book from his brother's hands and placing it carefully into an empty slot on a shelf nearby, "Living for two thousand years in the human world does wonders for your free time."

Dante promptly took the same book out and flipped it open, if only to peeve his brother. "What'd he write in these? There's at least a few hundred books here."

Vergil gaze darkened and he turned to look up at the numerous novels. "Everything and anything he knew. He wrote about every magic spell he knew, ever part of the demon world he's been in, every species of demons he's met."

Dante was silent. The air suddenly felt uncomfortably thick between them, as if he had just been told some great secret. "Why?" he blurted out, "Why spend all the time to- Did he want to pass it to humans?"

"No. It was for himself," Vergil's voice became soft and strangely sad.

Dante suddenly found it reassuring that despite how strict and demon-like his twin acted, there was still a part of him that was noticeably human. We're not so different after all.

Vergil continued quietly, as if recalling a painful memory. "How would you feel if you were the only one of your kind in a world where you didn't belong? As the years went on, he feared that he would forget where he came from. Even now, he considers the demon world home. Not exactly a safe home, but still home nonetheless."

Dante was quiet. He traced his fingers down the papers. The demon tongue looked like inky chicken scratch when written, but it was strangely beautiful in its own way. Most of it was gibberish to him, but he recognized a phrase that he remembered being taught many years ago.

"Nimrrt," he mumured. He frowned; that didn't sound right. He was SURE Sparda had spoken it earlier in that battle with Vergil. "Nim...mer? Nim-chr?"

"Nimhrt," Vergil corrected absently as he searched through the shelves and pulled a large book into his arms. He flipped through it quickly. "It means brother."

"Us?"

Vergil gave him a perfectly raised eyebrow. "No. Brother, as in singular. Not two brothers. Besides, we weren't born in the Middle Ages."

Dante gave him a confused look, then suddenly dropped the book with a startled thump. "Our old man has a brother?"

"Yes, a twin, actually," Vergil matter-of-factly retrieved the book off the ground and brushed it off with care. "Why are you surprised? Demons are commonly born as twins. Just look at us."

"Yeah well, where is he?" The thought of having even more undiscovered family members was making Dante's head spin.

"Not sure. They separated after Father joined with Mundus. Sparda left his everyone he knew back in the demon world." Vergil made a pleased sound as he found another book that he was looking for and also pulled it out of the shelves. "Supposedly our grandmother is still alive somewhere in the demon world as well."

Parents, Dante realized with a jolt, Father had parents, too. It was utterly bizarre to think of demons as his relatives, but he supposed there was no other way to label them. He noticed that Vergil didn't seemed bothered about it at all and that the word 'grandmother' slipped from his tongue as easily as water.

Yamato's scabbard suddenly smacked him right between the eyes, knocking him violently out of his thoughts. "OW! What was that for?"

"For not paying attention," Vergil answered, still absently searching for books, "Are you normally this slow?"

Dante scowled darkly at him. "Bastard. You caught me off guard, that's all!" He grunted as Vergil handed a stack of four books to him, each heavier than the next. Sighing, the younger twin dumped them on the nearest table, plopped himself in the accompanying chair and set his booted feet on top of the books. "Am I supposed to juggle these or what?"

Vergil came over with one last book and promptly shoved Dante's feet off the table. "First, those are ancient books. Father spent a long time on them, so damage them and I will end you. Second, you know pathetically little about the demon way of fighting, so I would pay attention. Thirdly, you will NOT set your boots on any table within this castle because your shoes are covered in ten layers of dirt and it is a great sign of disrespect."

Dante raised an eyebrow at him. Those were more words than he was used to hearing from his brother in the span of an hour. "What's gotten your panties in a bunch?" he demanded, grinning when he saw his twin flinch at the teasing.

Glaring at him, Vergil pulled up a chair and perched at the edge of it across from Dante. He opened one of the larger books and slid it in front of his twin. "We'll start with the basics. Here's a book Father didn't write."

Dante peeked at the cover and immediately began to protest. "What? Latin? English is good enough for me, thanks. I don't need to learn some fancy-pants dead language."

Vergil gave him a supremely peeved look. "Latin," the older twin stressed, "is the last Divine Language."

Dante narrowed his eyes. All demon hunters knew this, but he never particularly cared. "Yeah, so?"

"What do you know about the demon tongue?"

"It's gibberish."

Vergil's eyes turned glacial, as if he was personally insulted by such a comment.

Scowling, his younger brother shrugged and slumped in his seat. "Uhhhh... They use it for spells. Demon spells."

"Right. Demons rely on the Dark Tongue to perform black magic."

Dante was getting really bored at this point. He wished Vergil had given him a pen or at least one of his weapons, so at least he could fiddle with something. "So?"

"So, Latin works the same way for humans. It is used to summon white magic, which can repel and heal damage caused by black magic."

...Oh. Dante leaned forward, suddenly very interested by this new piece of knowledge. "White magic? Why haven't I heard of this before?"

"Because humans are idiots, that's why," Vergil replied dryly. He pulled out another book and opened it, flipping through the pages to show Dante what looked like circles drawn with arrays and other symbols within them. "After Christianity and monotheism took over, very few humans remember how to perform white magic to protect themselves. Modern priests have holy water and some know how to perform diluted spells like exorcism, but most of the dirty work has been passed to demon hunters with weapons. Like us."

Dante took the book and eyed it strangely. "Ver… This is alchemy. None of this is supposed to work."

"Only the gold aspect doesn't." Vergil still sounded like he wanted to hit Dante for asking stupid questions. "The ancient civilizations had the right idea, with all their gods and enchanted powers. The Egyptians had quite a few white magic spells involved in their religion, as did the Chinese and the Norse. Even people in the Middle Ages had magic-based sciences -like alchemy- going for them."

Dante traced one of the alchemy circles with his finger. He had to admit that it was beautifully done, even if it did look like something that came out of a sketchy tattoo parlor. "And... what does this have to do with Latin?"

"Nowadays, all the other Divine Languages that once existed -Egyptian, for example- are extinct. The only one that was recorded well enough for us to learn in modern times is Latin, so therefore white magic can only be performed by humans who can speak Latin. Hence, you need to shut your mouth and learn some."

Dante glared at him. "But we're not-"

"-fully human?" Vergil suddenly gave a feral smile, and Dante felt the hair on the back of his neck rise at the sight. It was extremely frightening when his brother smiled like that, he decided. "No, we're not. We're half human and half demon, which means that we can perform both." He leaned back, as if pleased with himself for finally breaking the news.

Dante blinked. Then blinked again. Slowly, a matching grin grew on his face. Something I can do that Dad can't? The possibilities were already bouncing around in his brain.

"This assumes, of course, that you're going to actually study." Vergil's dry voice broke through his thoughts.

Dante sighed and looked at the massive pile of books. Oh, epic fucking hell... He reached for one of the books and winced as he felt its weight in his hands. "Yeah, yeah, I'm doing it, I'm doing it."

AN: My apologies, this wasn't the most interesting of chapters. I just wanted to create a setting with ideas I've wanted to use for a long time (like how lonely Sparda must've been for the 2000 years he spent wandering the human world by himself).

Obviously, I'm making parts of this up as I go. I know next to nothing about ancient languages, btw, but I DO know Latin is technically considered "dead". However, it's simply the easiest 'ancient' language to use for an English story. I honestly did play around with the idea of using an Asian language like Mandarin or an older dialect of it, but that would be way harder to spell out / translate. :/ (Plus, Latin is a bit more Devil May Cry-esque.)

Also, parts of this chapter ARE vaguely based off the Devil May Cry manga background. In the manga, the human world is considered 'light', and the demon world is considered 'dark'. The two can't exist without each other, but (as people have obviously seen in the games) the demon world has tried repeatedly to take over the human world.

And as always, feedback is welcome. : ) Thank you for your patience, everyone!