Chapter 12
Revelations
Devon didn't know where she was or what had happened. All she felt was immense pain, like someone sticking his finger through her ringing ears right into her skull to stir her brain madly, like a bowl of baked beans.
"Come on. Wake up, sleepy head." It was him.
"Pesh..." It was barely a whisper, if anything at all. The voices were in her head, Devon realized, her own and his. It ached to think, let alone move a single muscle.
"Yeah. Who else? Now, wake up. You need to wake up, now." He begged with his beautiful voice, so piercing it made her heart clench. And it left no doubt, that something had gone severely wrong. One second she had been in the car with Nero, the next everything went upside down, before plunging into a cold darkness.
"I'm trying, really. Give me a moment."
"We don't have a moment." He sounded urgent and pleaded with all his might. "He won't survive this."
He who? Then it hit her. "Nero..."
"That one, yes."
Devon didn't know where to focus first, her limbs felt like a tangled mass of searing flesh and in addition, her mind threatened to slip from her grasp like sand through her fingers."I'm so tired...please..." And she still forced her eye open, scared out of her mind, when she saw him on all fours, screaming at the floating mass of white feathers and dull voices. "Pesh, help him...I can't do anything, not like this." Everything hurt, so much it made her sick to the broken bones. "Whatever you do. Just please, help him."
And then she was pulled back into a numbing warmth, that soaked into her skin and bones.
Pesh had taken over control. Of her body. And of the situation. "I can't believe, I'm doing this. He's a demon..." Pesh clicked his tongue at her, sounding slightly disgusted as the word rolled off his tongue. Things where definitely going somewhat astray in these times he had woken up to. What in the heaven's name had the world come to?
"He's more human than that, and you know it."
"Stop arguing, I'm doing what I can under these limited options." He bickered back, and Devon found herself smiling, she couldn't hardly take him serious anymore. That snotty tone added up it to by far and wide.
"Just do whatever." The retort was accompanied by a pinch of amusement.
"I got it." He remarked irritated, but his voice softened, feeling her weakened state all too much as he forced his life energy to form a version of himself around her, weaving it together with glowing light, until he felt the cool air and the wet rain on his skin, first time in centuries. And it felt damn good. "Just rest and sleep for a little while. Nothing's gonna happen to him."
But Pesh couldn't help the last jab, before Devon would loose her conscience in order to heal painlessly. "You still realize you almost died again, if it weren't for me. He's not really that useful, demon or human."
Devon huffed at how difficult he made this, plus he seemed to awfully enjoy himself no less, judging by the funny sneer that came through. "Be nice to him. He's the closest thing to a friend I had in a long time." Devon still tried to reason, but Pesh was already on the move and yelling at him, in between his whispers towards her.
"I know, I know. Now shush. I need to concentrate and after that, tell him how he fucked up royally." After that everything had went silent around Devon and Pesh was out.
He had no time wondering about anything, but defended and then attacked to the best of his rusty abilities, which proved more than sufficient to beat his own race, that had tried to kill without any traceable remorse. He was disgusted by this and his rage unbound, he cut through them, showing what an ancient soul and one of their oldest brethren was capable of - even in this hilariously weakened state.
The demon-human hadn't suffered that badly and Pesh was sure he would survive, seeing his cursed blood working it's designed purpose. He could stand and already fight back. Good for him. If he only would have found his guts earlier. Pesh wasn't too sure how much he affected the human body, but the hybrid saw it, making a show out of it in telling Pesh so.
What an idiot. But it would seem, he was Devon's idiot, so he would have to deal with it. His host was more precious than anything else. And maybe him and his companions as well. Pesh knew it was their doing that made his awakening possible, unwillingly so and because of that even more respectable, for it showed heartfelt, noble and true intentions.
He had to give them credit, no matter the race they hailed from. These were really strange times, where angels killed humans and demons sided with the weaker race to protect. Pesh found it was hard to wrap his head around it to begin with.
But when he handed Devon over to Nero, he felt a vast sadness and guilt wash over him. There was something in Nero's eyes, that yet again sparked Pesh's curiosity. Was it remorse? So deeply rooted and massive, that it could last for a lifetime and further?
But before there was anything happening to prove to Pesh, if he was right or wrong about his guess, a ripple went through the air. Something, or rather someone, had disturbed the fabric of the world's invisible barrier. It was unsettling how it went through the earth like a foreboding tremor of something far greater coming through, than those minor pests from earlier. Something big and powerful. Was it good? Or was it crazed, like the others?
Before Pesh could think further, more people showed up, with the angel finding out, that there still were more demons around the half blood and not the hostile kind either. He couldn't wait to find out more about all of this. Last time he had checked, there had been a gruesome war between Heaven and Hell. But it appeared that this had been a very long time ago. Humanity was still there, but with those present in their middle, carrying the mixed blood, he didn't know, if that was good or bad. And if the angel race was so determined to kill, Pesh couldn't help but to get a very bad feeling.
Devon peeked from behind Dante at the old man, that Dante had called Danzig so fondly with a relieved sigh to boot. Devon knew she was right to assume it was the Danzig Nero had told her about. A wise man, that might knew how to separate her from Pesh, if it was possible at all.
Devon glanced at him with a baffled expression, if anything he looked plain. His hair was gray and in slight disarray, sprouting thickly from atop his head and lead down to bushy, old fashioned sideburns. She saw deep lines of a long life carved into his skin, that was more ashen, than holding a healthy, rosy color. If anything, he looked tired and matted. Compared to him, Dante, his twin and Nero were the epitome of otherworldly capability, now that she thought of it. Powerful and filled with gleaming pride, that'll make one go blind, if looking to closely into their eyes. But Danzig just seemed tired to her.
His tattered, washed out black clothes hung loosely from his tall and very thin frame, she presumed he must have been close to starving at some point. Yet his croaky, but full voice did not show what he might have pinned down on his narrow shoulders, which seemed to have slumped under an invisible weight.
Dante's hand left her and he strode towards the new arrival to the already cramped house, widening his arms, which was mirrored as they both gave each other a short, firm hug. Dante looked like holding back though, not wanting to grind the old man into dust. And after they shared a heartfelt, quick embrace, pat on the back included, they gave each other a once over, both now grinning widely and Devon saw the relief in both faces.
"My dear boy." The affection it carried let it slowly sink in, how much Danzig had missed Dante. And Dante found himself transferred back right to the moment, where he first had met him, as it always felt, when they hadn't seen each other in a long time. The lonely boy on the streets, no father, no mother, no brother to cling onto, had been nothing more than a shriveled up body, lacking anything that a growing child should have and needed to survive, let alone one that was half demon. And from the thirty something eyes, it was this boy that stared back at Danzig with so much respect and love, the old man was sorry for having left months ago and without a single word.
"I apologize," Danzig said with a bow of his head, knowing it was the least he could offer. But Dante simply patted his shoulder. "You're here. That's all that matters."
"I heard you." Danzig informed the hybrid, who was mildly confused at the remark.
"Oh, so it did work after all? Well, what a nice surprise." Dante ruffled through his hair, not knowing how to react, because Danzig was scrutinizing him with a wary look.
"What did you do? I hope nothing dangerous or stupid?"
Dante could only chuckle, now fiddling about with his coat, eyes turned upwards, before rolling in their sockets.
"Why do you even have to ask? Though, this one goes entirely to Vergil, I have to say."
"Don't pry. You two will end up bickering, if you do." Danzig didn't miss a beat in his reply, though in the back of his head, it suddenly clicked together.
"Not that he can actually hear it, so I have to take up the opportunity." Dante shrugged, still feeling the telltale burn in his guts from his earlier outburst about the incident. And Nero did nothing but add up to his burning stomach acid bubbling up until he could taste the bitterness in the back of his throat. What a mess.
Dante huffed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather pants, to keep from wringing and breaking his own fidgeting fingers. "I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later."
"And how is our youngest one faring?"
"Please, don't ask." Dante finally turned, starting to get bothered by all the questions. If he had been here, he would have known.
"I see. Well, one problem I can solve for you. I saw Vergil on my way here. He didn't notice me and I'm sure, he wouldn't have bothered if he did-"
"Where?"
"In his usual spot." Danzig replied nonchalantly, before meeting Devon's gaze, finally. And there and then, without warning, he found himself speechless.
"Oh, this is Devon. I found her and took her in." Dante made it sound incredible simple, which immediately popped up a few questions. Nothing was ever simple with Dante. And the way she looked, it was hilarious to believe for one second, it was anything other than utterly complicated.
Devon awkwardly waved one hand at the old man, as his keen eyes landed on her. She did not see the force coming, with which it hit her - hard. His eyes were strange and she felt uncomfortably exposed under his gaze. The swirl of gold in brown went unnoticed by each of them, though. Yet, the bell in her head gave of a single light sound, which Devon acknowledged with a strange feeling of something bigger in the room, than her eye could see. But here it was, a power her weak form wasn't able to grasp, but Pesh was.
Danzig cleared his throat, astonished and thus lacking words. It would seem Dante had done a good deed once more in taking in such a pitiful creature. The first thing he naturally noticed was the bad state her face was in. And something itched in the back of his head. There was something off about the woman, but his inner vision seemed obscured. He knew Dante well enough, to assume he was very well aware of the unnatural force inside this human body, which made it over the more intriguing.
Finally, Danzig remembered to peel off layer by layer of his black lumps, happy to be able to shed the dirty clothes altogether. With the last layer unwrapped, Dante chuckled. "Now there's the Danzig I know."
"You wouldn't have thought, I'd walk around like a beggar willingly, did you?" The old man's eyes gleamed with mischief to him, revealing his expensive suit, one of so many, he was too lazy count any more.
And with the change of outer appearance, his posture seemed to change as well, as he stuffed his hand into the pockets of his dark and richly adorned blazer.
"No, of course not." Dante admitted, before he and Danzig turned their attention back to the young woman.
Devon stared back in a baffled state. She had not seen a suit, that looked so awfully expensive in her entire life. All those different patterns made her dizzy. But they went so well with each other, which came as a surprise. It looked like velvet and satin and other stuff she didn't know the name of, or couldn't quite remember.
Dante came over to her, face inching closer to find out the reason for that bewilderment that had caught a hold of her tongue. Devon inadvertently shoved his face away, for he was way too close for her liking. Dante puffed his cheeks out and upon contact, when Devon pressed her palm against the side of his face, he made a loud farting noise through pursed lips.
And it worked. Devon's eye focused back on him, at first displaying a comical display of horror and then she laughed. Dante really was one of a kind. In many and various crazy ways.
Dante knew the old man's stare all too well. It could hold you captive for as long as he deemed fit, searching for answers to questions, Danzig already had on the tip of his tongue, as far as Dante could tell. If anyone could unriddle the mystery of the celestial being trapped in a human body, Dante would put his money on his mentor.
Danzig closed the distance and held his hand out, meaning to great her properly, and like a lady deserved in his opinion. As soon as she offered her hand, Danzig breathed a kiss on the back of it, like a true gentlemen out of a book or a story she had heard somewhere in another life.
Mildly befuddled, she just watched and became amused, when he raised her arm and on her own accord she did a twirl on her heels, like she offered a dance and accepting it altogether with a giggle. This Danzig had a complete different feel to him and she couldn't think why, but this seemed like the appropriate way to react and just go with his gallant mood.
"Danzig." He introduced himself properly. "It is an honor. You're quite the beautiful lady, aren't you."
Devon had nothing to say to that, it came without warning. No one had ever called her that, actually. And he seemed genuine about it either. What a character.
There was one word in the back of her head, and the voice that whispered wasn't her own. Chivalry it said. And Devon knew, where Dante had supposedly learned how to act the way he did around her. Danzig was a gentleman from head to toe, so much she could guess, funny enough.
Dante watched from the sideline with a very amused face, tongue in cheek to hide his grin. Danzig had a knack to get along with just everybody it seems. He could adjust to people like clay, molding his speech and gestures to fit each single one and make them as comfortable as possible. If this was only a rare gift or something he did completely on purpose and had mastered the ability from zero to outstanding, even Dante couldn't tell.
When he had been found by Danzig, that one day he'd never forget, he still marvelled how the old man had become everything Dante had ever wanted. An easy listener, a guiding hand on his back, pushing him forward, a punching bag for sour moods, a mentor befitting his heritage, a guardian for an unprepared teen and the most important thing now, a dear friend who had earned his trust in every way possible.
Danzig stared at Devon, harder than he'd normally do, but the only one noticing it was Dante. Something was off, but since his mentor didn't address it, Dante ignored the odd feeling in his guts and opted for keeping his mouth shut. For now.
The old man let Devon's hand slide off, but there was a strange longing, he couldn't yet pinpoint exactly. It vibrated in his innards and his head. He swore he could hear a faint bell. But that was from so long ago, he couldn't even remember for it was buried deep in his soul, it couldn't be. Not here.
Long gone.
Long lost.
Nero chewed on the inside of his cheek and his shoulders slumped, as he trudged along the hall way, wanting to find out what Dante had meant about his bedroom needing to be cleaned.
His poor mind was till spinning in the after effects of what had happened though, going so far to almost stub his toe on the door upon entry, which was strangely lying in the floor. At first Nero cursed. At the door and himself. And his busy mind, replying everything that happened until it came to a screeching halt.
The moment, he had leaned down to kiss Devon and how she had practically jumped out of his grasp.
Damn, that had hurt like he didn't know it ever could. But what the hell had he been thinking to do something like that anyway? He understood, that he had been relieved beyond doubt, but that did not justify anything.
Not this.
And now he was here, sulking over everything, not knowing what to do or what say. Neither to Dante nor to Devon. And where the hell was Vergil anyway, when you needed him?
Nero sighed and then Nero finally registered the chaos around him in the dark.
Just wow.
"What the hell...?"
He slowly made his way further in, making scrunching noises with his boots from all the broken glass and he beyond relief, he didn't pull them off, like he usually did, when he entered the shop. He saw the shattered mirror laying on the floor, the destroyed furniture, nothing was standing anymore.
A noise behind him made him turn on his heels. War leaned against the door frame, observing Nero with mild amusement.
"What happened here? Did you do this," Nero asked confused by his sheer presence, while scratching his bringer, which reacted to the imposing creature with a slight itch. Not unpleasant enough to be a bother, but not pleasant enough to ignore.
"The ritual went wrong." War informed him, indifferently so, as if this was an every day occurrence.
Though War had been through worse, so Nero didn't hold it against him, but the urge to stare, he couldn't fight either. "Ritual?"
"The binding of the mirror, Dante wanted to use to track Danzig down. His brother disrupted the spell and well..." He motioned around. "We had a few visitors." Like citing a boring poem in an unperturbed voice, that ground down on Nero's bewildered mood as it was.
"Damn." Nero muttered, getting the full picture and why Dante had said he would have been needed. But that was joke right? They seemed to have handled it pretty well. Not for the bedroom though.
"Nothing to worry about." War assured him and stepped inside, crushing the debris even more with his heavy boots. The noises ground down on Nero's already inflamed nerve ending. He clenched his bringer. "What did Vergil do?"
"I can't say, what befell him. He looked very distraught and just vanished." War explained further, inspecting the knocked over and broken shelves on the floor, before picking up random things to lay them on the only thing that survived the fight, a wooden drawer on the opposite wall, from where the mirror had been.
"Do you know where he is?"
"Nay."
Go, figure. Yet, Dante had seemed awfully calm and didn't even mention the fact that his brother had disappeared. So, maybe he hadn't been pissed off just because of him and Devon, but because of Vergil as well. However, this was all pure speculation, yet Nero wished to see Vergil, but now was not an option. Also, the red rider was in a favorable mood and Nero strangely found himself compelled by the creature, that veered in temper from his gloomier brother. His presence was calming actually.
"I've been charged to clean up behind you." Nero informed the rider, who gave him a puzzled look. "My apologies."
Nero gave off a small laugh. "It's alright. I do take my punishment like a man." He waved the rider off and walked over to the window, attempting to repeat the same procedure from before and just throw everything outside.
"Punishment?" War wasn't aware of the fact, that Nero had to be punished for something.
"It's a long story."
"I have time." War remarked, seeing Nero jump off the ledge of the window and a few screeching noises later, he came back in. The rider gave another puzzled look and peeked outside to see what Nero had done and his eyes fell upon the container under the window, understanding what the boy was about to do.
War flexed his hand and gave his gauntlet a brief shake, not minding to give Nero a hand. Death was brooding heavily and War welcomed the distraction by the younger version of the twins. He kind of had taken a liking to the impulsive pup. And right now, he didn't want to be in his brother's company and the foul mood he had been in since Dante had apparently failed his task to find Danzig.
With mild astonishment, Nero watched War haul various things through the window, without having to look. He grinned to himself at that, and was kind of surprised at how gentle the rider named War could be, going so far as to help him with this puny task to clean up.
Who would have thought?
So, in return, he obliged and told him about his assumed error and how he disobeyed a direct order.
"You got off easy, kid. When I once opposed Death, I lost my hand." Nero stopped dead and stared at him, then at the gauntlet, than back. "For real?"
War held his limb up so Nero could have a closer look. "He had this made for me after that. And our quarrel ended. I was at fault, he had been right."
"That's it? You weren't mad?"
"Oh, I was. But when you have done wrong, you have to make it right. And I know, he felt remorse for the deed. But I would have killed one of our own, if he hadn't stopped me. It was justified."
Some new light was shed on the riders and their story, which reached so far back, that Nero's head spun upon receiving this information the night, they had waited for Devon to recover.
"Well, that's one hell of a story right there." And it made Dante and his qualms pale in comparison.
"True." War chuckled.
They fell into a silence, walking in opposite circles to clean up furthermore and Nero was grateful he had someone to talk to and help actually. His mood wasn't as sour anymore. Everyone seemed to have their own small problems and burden to carry. And War did it with so much dignity apparently, that it didn't interfere with the bond he and his brother shared. The red rider had a lot of understanding or so Nero assumed. He had been wrong and he had accepted it.
"Did Dante say anything after this?"
War paused, a strange expression on his face. "Not that I know. He yelled for you in between the fighting, but that was all."
"He did?" War nodded and shrugged. "We were able to handle it though. No scratch was made."
Nero didn't understand a single thing. But War did. "He was concerned for you. And the other one."
"I could have handled it as well."
War chuckled at his cocky remark. "Sometimes it can't be measured with rationality. He cares. Maybe cares too much?"
Nero's mouth opened at him, gaping, which yet again made War chuckle. The boy was clueless, wasn't he?
And Nero shook his head. It did make sense. Dante always put everyone first and didn't care about himself much. War saw this clearly and Nero felt ashamed, it was indeed something entirely Dante. "You really think so?"
War threw a few more things out, before turning to him again. "I do. I know a thing or two about people acting one way and meaning the other. My brother died for me, though he'd never openly admitted just how much he cared. Dante is a bit different, but still good at masking his concerns. He carries a lot on his shoulders and aren't you his friend and should help him make it lighter?"
It was a truth, that Nero didn't want to hear. But being told straight to the face by the rider did it for him, something clicked. He never wanted to cause problems. Only that they stood as equals. But equals didn't treat each other like this. Nero knew, he was at fault, it was just so hard to admit. Yet, here stood War, spelling it out for him.
"He doesn't want me to. All I get told is to sit tight. Why doesn't he trust me?"
"That's not for me to answer. You should ask him yourself, if that is what you think." War's advice came easy, but with much reason. If he was asked a question, he answered as truthfully as he could, but making decisions for others was not within the small confinement of his code of honor.
"You're probably right." He would have to go and face the problem head on, if Dante would finally allow him to talk.
War suddenly perked up, and Nero felt it too, both a sharing a haunted look, letting everything fall and War first, swiftly dashing out of the room, with effects like an earthquake, like Nero didn't know he could, as he followed the tall red figure towards the source. His blood boiled under his prickling skin.
Nero crashed into War at the top of the stairs to the living room, but hastily shoved the mass of rider aside, not acknowledging Death, who stalked up behind them to see what this commotion was all about.
Time seemed to freeze, when Nero leaped down and was held back by Dante, who he just realized was there, too. All his blue eyes could focus on was Danzig holding Devon's hand.
"What's going on?" The fear in his voice was evident and Dante felt his initial anger dissolve with hearing it. So concerned.
Nero tried to shake his arm loose, but Dante held his upper arm like damn clamp. "Watch." He jerked his head towards Devon and Danzig, the glow now clear as day, and the feeling that Nero had upstairs, heightened. The most curious thing though, Nero noticed, he knew it. He knew it from Pesh. That sickening hope and unbearable courage, he knew he didn't deserve, bubbled up from inside.
Nonetheless, he followed Dante's gaze. His mouth opened, yet he was stunned into a stupor, tingling nerves over-flooded with a deep sense of foreboding.
A truth in Danzig's eyes, that swirled in rich gold.
Devon gave Nero a short pleading look, as she became aware of how everyone had seemed to gathered around, wanting to apologize. For what she didn't even know, but her heavy heart was about to break. The moment she had taken the hand of the old man in a proper greeting, it went haywire. Like her mind, her soul. Everything seemed to unbearable heavy and all she asked for was forgiveness.
Devon's eye spilled the tears, that had built up under the pressure of all the feeling inside. She didn't know anymore, if these were her own anymore. "Whose feelings are these? Mine? Yours?"
And as the bell started ringing, more chimed in until it became a choir deafening to her ears. Her eye watered even more under the painful sound, ringing like it was the last day of judgment. It brought Devon to one knee, pleading with all her might to let it stop.
And Nero heard it all, and it sounded to him like a mirror breaking and glass shards flying everywhere. It cut him mentally. He tried to lunge forward, wanting nothing more, but for Danzig to stop, whatever it was he was doing.
Dante jerked him back, able to guess every move from Nero's still sore muscles. Dante trusted Danzig. And it was enough to keep him still. And Nero with him.
"It's okay, kid." How one could sound so assured and commanding, making Nero's resolve crumble along with his worries, was beyond him.
Everything would be alright. And suddenly, by three words uttered, he believed. He wanted to. He had been the one, to tell Devon in the first place, that Danzig would know something. And something clearly was happening.
Yet, Nero couldn't remember a single time, he had ever felt this power coming from Danzig. Not one time. He was told, he was no human, yes. But no one knew exactly, what he was either and if the twins knew, they never let shine through.
Many pairs of eyes watched the transition there and then. One long and well guarded secret was revealed and another one, shrouded in time long ago, was found.
They found each other. Found each other after all those years of hopelessness, that Danzig had spent searching for him.
The moment, the old man had touched Devon, he had felt the familiar glow. Now was only one thing left to confirm it.
And so he called forth the angel, he had known for as long as the Heaven existed. His dear brother and companion, long lost and buried deep under rain and stone it would seem.
If this was fate, Danzig couldn't have asked for a much happier one, than being granted this moment, where he saw his brother again after years of punishment, they both had endured apparently. But Pesh was given the more crueler fate. Danzig felt his tears sting and fall free. So long. So much time had passed.
And tears streamed down Devon's face as well, as it slowly turned into the Pesh, who cried and sobbed like a small boy, finally finding light after a long dark night plagued by vicious nightmares.
And Danzig felt like the morning sun hit his face for the first time, standing upon the highest tower of the White City and looking out beyond the pale with his brother by his side, to relish in the warm light of a peaceful day in Heaven when the realm had been young.
Though Pesh didn't remember Danzig to look so old, he had felt it right away. And with the power of another in the same room and the touch of a hand as strong as his own, from virtue to virtue, he was able to manifest. Not out of fear this time, but out love and the bond, which had never been severed, not by his punishment nor time that had passed.
To behold such a sight, of two angels, who had fallen low on Earth, pierced the heart of every being in the room and they fell into a solemn silence upon being able to witness, what not many had witnessed before. Old and young at the same time. Power and kindness. Heart and soul, brighter than the sun could ever shine and making them happier with feeling of a deep love seep out from them, into the stone and brick, into the wood and plank, into the air around and into their own bodies. Everything and everyone soaked it up, like yearlong dry deserts, finally granted with a cataclysm of rejoicing rain.
Greens and golds. Blues and whites. Bells now ringing, hailing from a realm, only the pure can set foot on, many pictures were conjured into each heart, not all happy, but from happier days, making the heart leap and frantic all the same.
Nero felt like having the opportunity to hold Kyrie's hand one last time and being able to say sorry.
Dante felt his brothers embrace, his mothers voice telling both of them, how much she loved them.
Every person in the room had a powerful memory or a wish unfulfilled and in the grace of the two angels, were able to dream their innermost thoughts, even if only for a short while. A blink of an eye with a wink of pure happiness. It was all they got, sadly.
It was as beautiful to experience as it was frightening. Because it was like getting broken and mended together, only to come face to face with the plain truth, that it was only hazy picture in their minds, a reaction of the heart to the virtues before their very eyes, which they all wiped in disbelief, and all there was left, was to wait for the stinging pain in their chests to subside.
For Nero, the angels he had encountered earlier, paled in everything to being exposed to this. And by the look on Dante's face, he didn't know either, that Danzig revealed himself to be one of them.
As for Dante, he licked lips and then clicked his tongue. It all fell into place now. There never had been a doubt, that Danzig was something powerful and always had been. But him being an angel only now made sense. Why he knew Lucifer so well. Why he knew everything and had a damn solution and wise words to spare.
Old might not even be a sufficient word anymore to describe Danzig. Ancient was more like it. An ancient soul in the human world, giving himself an occupation as trader, to which Dante had never had rhyme or reason to offer, but Danzig could bet his angel ass on it, that Dante had a lot questions and right there and then he wanted them all answered.
But Dante, nor the others saw Danzig any longer. Not the Danzig everyone knew at least. But the Danzig Pesh knew. As tall as he was, but the slim figure no longer seemed like a birch in a storm, but like the storm itself. A storm of golden and brown wavy hair reaching to his thighs, a face that grew younger and hard lines softened and eventually vanished, the longer each person looked. The bulky nose slimmed and was chiseled to a sharper version. His lips thickened and straightened, like his overall posture. The old man had disappeared and an older Pesh version stood tall and broad in his place.
And Dante did not find anything, that equaled his persona, except for the other angel in the room. He couldn't believe his father figure to look his own age at all. No way. Old man his ass.
"Pesh. I was looking so long for you. So long." New Danzig wept through closed eyes, as he held Pesh by his arms.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The blonde boy replied under heavy sobs, resting his forehead on Danzig's chest, while the old man moved his right hand to Pesh's neck and kissed his golden locks. "I didn't know, if the curse befell you as well. I just assumed, but since you disappeared on that day, where we were about to face our punishment, I thought you might have met a more gruesome fate. I asked our siblings. I asked the wardens, no one knew what had happened." Danzig cried out of sheer joy, trying to comprehend, that this was truly his youngest brother he held here in his arms centuries later.
He felt the soft hair under his chin and warm skin under hand, the heavy breaths against his body, with which Pesh exhaled his sobs. He even felt the wet tears soak into the fabric of his clothes.
It was real. It was all real.
But it made him wonder about the day, Pesh had vanished.
They both held each other, until the initial shock wore off and the tears finally subsided and dried. One last crushing embrace, which Pesh received gladly, they smiled at each other.
Danzig told the younger man to calm down and tell him everything that had happened, while the rest of the room still sat in astonished silence to the revelations and turn of events, as both told the story, of how they had been punished for the interaction upon first contact with the young human race. And Pesh was finally able to fill in the gaps, that he had left, as he vanished and Danzig, along with his remaining siblings, had been cast out of the realm forever.
Pesh had returned to the city, to ask for forgiveness and plea for the souls of his siblings, the seven manifested virtues, the highest rank of angels. He made many valid reasons known, as to why they had ascended to earth, curious for the new and young race of mankind. But the Creator, jealous of the love the angels had shown for them and certainly thinking it diminished the love for him.
But the circumstance that truly infuriated him and brought his wrath down on the seven angels, had been that he saw his creation tainted. Altered into something he did not see fit. They learned already too much in so little time, ready to wage war among them, and pinned this crime solely on the angels.
This he told Pesh, that he and his brethren may suffer for these actions and see the full consequences of their tampering and forever be damned to live with this regret. That they had taken something pure and innocent and in their pride had modified their course of evolution throughout the ages to come.
The Creator had turned from the human race, not able to take away what the angels had unleashed. And Pesh cried bitter tears, seeing his fault, but pleaded still for his and his siblings to be send down and make amends.
The Creator laughed at his naive request, for it would take forever to right every wrong that followed in their wake and premature eagerness to teach humanity. It would be a menial and futile task. So many humans, giving birth, living and dying in a mere blink of an eye for the immortal beings and in their hasty lives their knowledge exceeded by far and wide for they had so little time on earth, before their souls were collected and reborn, that they learned, eagerly passing it on a mere flash in their short lifespans.
Pesh still cried, but now openly opposed his Creator. He would still want to try. And for his vain words he was cursed. For his unrelenting will to still wanting to help the tainted humanity, the Creator had forsaken and doomed already to become their own worst enemy with the angels at fault.
"If you so want to be with them, I grant you this one wish you voiced so fiercely. And your siblings alike. None of you should ever venture beyond the sacred walls of the White City again. This is the verdict your existence will forever be bound to by my will. You will exist within the confinement of humanity, never to return."
The other virtues were simply banned from the realm, but Pesh awaited a more cruel fate, for his disobedient try to plea for forgiveness and persuade the Creator to grant absolution.
He took Pesh's soul from his living body, and it withered and decayed into ashes and dust. No trace of the beautiful angel of compassion had been left, but a naked flame, hurting the unveiled eye in it's purest form of existence. The Creator, in his sardonic wrath, adhered the uttered plea in a twisted sick sense and planted the soul into a human, weaving a curse to never be able speak and see. Only to feel the human life being consumed, by the very being inside, to wither and die and adding up to all the regrets the angel needed to endure.
Then his soul would be bound to the next being, having to watch the same thing happen. Over and over and over. Until the worlds would cease to exist.
Even when the judgment day came early and Death and War fought for it's preservation, the curse wasn't broken. The human with the angel soul at that time lived to see another day and then everything was amended by Death as he redeemed his brother and the reality started anew, like the apocalypse didn't happen. That was the doing of the Council, still not knowing, the Creator had left them for good.
So, Pesh traveled the earth half asleep in a haze. The curse was a tricky thing, for it accounted many circumstances to actually trigger the soul into coherent thoughts. It had to be met with the same compassion it stood for. And further on, the human had to endure all the bad things the world had to offer, shortening the life span drastically by always meeting an untimely end, whether by accident or from the divine being burning away the life from the inside, neither of those outcomes the sleeping angel inside could prevent, even if holding the actual power to it.
It would take ages for Pesh to finally be embedded in the very body, that could withstand this curse of madness to be drawn in by it's magic. A string of mere coincidence it would seem, as he finally awoke in the city of rain and stone. Capulet City was the most doomed and wretched place on all earth, yet strangely a place that harbored and nurtured souls of the righteous, ready to conquer all of the billowing mass of nefarious and wicked hearts.
And so it happened, he became aware of the most untypical being, that his host could have come across. A hybrid, harboring an evil menace inside his undying body. A golden heart beating in his chest, loud enough to rouse him from his deep sleep. A most unlikely creature, curious blue eyes, searching for something within he did not yet know, it was there yet.
Like opposite ends of magnets, they drew each other in, not knowing why. But the blazing soul inside finally had found it's liberator, among the most unlikely beings that walked the face of the earth. Only two existed. And Pesh awoke, meeting the demon hunter they called Dante. Greatest warrior on earth. Strongest being to boot. And the brightest and keenest soul he had ever came across. For a demon-human mix.
Though no one could see past the mask of humor and charm, Pesh could feel it vibrating deep within. The sole drive of a passion rooted from a tormented soul and the loss of a brother. Twice.
Making his amends to right the wrongs of father and son alike. A heavy burden to shoulder and yet he did so without a solid complain. Showing compassion for others and selflessness no less. Saving Trish, because he would not see one life wasted for him. Saving his brother from depth and torment alike. Saving Nero from himself. Pesh saw it all within the hunter.
And the first being in years to care for the woman who had stubbornly so, giving up on life, until she found out, that maybe not everything had been her fault and was not in her powers. It happened because the curse triggered on every turn, worsening things and defiling them beyond recognition.
But Dante proved to be the obstacle that finally made Pesh blaze into awareness, ready to safe the life of the being harboring and nurturing his consuming fire with a fierce drive to live. Even if the intention was buried under rubble and dust that had crumbled down on it for many a year. The better half 26. Which was not even long enough to take a breath for an angel. Pesh, feeling sorry for all the pain his curse inflicted, called forth the life force of his own, feeding it to the soul and rose her from the dead under the watchful blue eyes of the twin, that just seemed as tormented as his brother.
Everyone stared at new Danzig, who stood in all his dignity at the centre of the living room, while everybody else had taken up a seat - Nero as far away from Devon as possible, for it seemed Dante had taken it up to occupy her for the time being. He gritted his teeth at that, but on the other hand, thought it for the better.
The further away he was, the lesser he would have feel that ominous presence of cock angel inside her. Or at least, that's what his itchy arm was telling him, though it could be the proximity to the riders, that had taken spots with him on the couch.
Everything did not sit right with as soon as he had spotted them both at Dante's desk, with her in his swivel chair and him leaning against it next to her. He couldn't get it out of his head, but at the same time cursed himself for even trying. He simply felt remorse. And even now, it would seem that Dante and Devon shared something else, that he hadn't seen until now.
Or his brain was playing tricks on him, for he felt deeply distraught, at how he could have forgotten about Kyrie for the first time, as he had been with Devon. It nagged on him and he didn't know, as to feel sad or angry. It bubbled inside him and he finally came to the conclusion, that he was mostly mad at himself and for having Devon pushed at him by Dante only to get her pulled away, the second he showed up and, purposefully or not, took up all the spotlight.
Yet, his memories and wishes had been forced out and he had to feel the pain of loosing Kyrie all over again, as if he could forget anyway. But this had felt so real, not like a dream at all. His anger, as he had to face this and having it ripped from the darkest place he could find and drag it out into plain daylight, hadn't vanished. It was cruel, yet he had only to blame himself. Or Devon. Or them both. He wished for the first time, Dante hadn't brought her in at all. Because he wouldn't have to blame himself any further and feel guilty about that silly half kiss, he now was glad about didn't really happen. How could he ever face Kyrie and Credo, if he had a chance like the conjured up dream had suggested, with having betrayed her? The answer was simple. He couldn't.
Nero subconsciously gritted his teeth. However, he was relieved, that Devon didn't get the chance to address the issue between them, if there was an issue at all left. So, Nero told himself to simply forget it ever happened and was able to calm his burning conscience. It simply wasn't right. It would never happen. He wouldn't let it.
Danzig had been talking and Nero only slightly paid attention, still worrying where the hell Vergil was and why no one cared. Truth be told though, the older twin did this sometimes, when he felt like it, only to just pop back up. And Dante never bothered, because he seemed to trust him and know he would turn up eventually.
But what War had revealed earlier gave the situation a different aspect. Why had Vergil been mad in the first place?Something only Dante might knew.
"The White City is our enemy as of now. Azrael has fallen, killed by his own. The angels look towards earth for revenge it would seem. The Crowfather seems to believe this as well. And who knows what Hell is up to?"
"Is the Crowfather alright," Deaths asked, showing some worry for the old wise man, who had supported him in every way possible. The Tree of Life and the Well of Souls were now left to his watchful eyes only, though even in death, he still held a lot of power as Danzig had confirmed. A wielder of ancient magic and a secret in itself he was.
Danzig furthermore had told them of his venture to the Eternal Throne and his bargain with Draven, which was a surprise to almost everyone and a proof at how much Danzig actually thought ahead in his wisdom. Yet again, Death voiced out his approval and acknowledged it as obligation to let Draven have his place, if he truly heeded the call to arms, when it would come.
"Well, it's official now. A new Council has to be formed, for the power of the old one must be inherited. Or we could seal it away, but to what end? Only to have the worlds at war once more over it. The balance must be preserved." Death droned, with all eyes wide on him, except for Danzig's.
Dante laughed from behind his desk. "Who would be so suicidal and do that? For all I know, the last Council didn't stand a chance to you and your lot."
"It was corrupted beyond redemption. We are not." Death replied harshly, defending his decision. "It is necessary. And after we have moved the Vault of Abominations to a more secure place with the help of Danzig, we will have to find people worthy and willing to take up this surmountable task. And we have to see to it, that Azrael did not perish in vain, as he might had fallen for this and by the betrayal of the angels no less. This is a crime, that cannot go unpunished. He was a noble soul and always in tune with the balance, adhering it with utmost loyalty."
"I vote for Dante." War piped up, in a voice so devoid of mockery, it earned him a few raised brows. That now was a thing to always be remembered. All eyes turned to Dante, who held up his right hand as veto.
A deep silence crushed the room, before Dante let out a throaty groan. "Wait a second."
He was ignored by Death, who gave War a warning look. This wasn't the time to argue about a topic he wanted to push back to a later and more suitable time. First and foremost the vault issue had to be solved, with everyone else, not needed for that, dispatched to seek out how these angels had found a way to travel to Earth. But the answer he already could guess and it only needed confirmation. "War. Not now."
"Who says, I want to be on that Council of yours?" Dante talked right over Death's growl.
War turned his head away from his brothers fuming eyes, and went on, ignoring Death altogether. "It is not a matter of want. It is a matter of obligation. The most powerful beings, who have sworn themselves to protect, should heed the call and do what they must."
"I never pledged myself to anything," Dante muttered.
"So, you're doing this for your own sake? The better." War couldn't help, but chuckle.
"I'm doing this because, that's what I can do." Dante shrugged, feet on the table and arms crossed over his cheat, to come off as unimpressed as possible.
"And there is your answer then," the Red Rider concluded satisfied from armored head to foot.
Dante sighed, casting his eyes down. "Not a chance. This is all yours, buddy."
"We will see, if you can turn your head away, when the first onslaught of both heaven and hell hit the human world without protection of the council."
"I just don't see, why you can't form it without me."
"Because it needs people like you, able to feel compassion and remorse and judge and act accordingly. It is hard to come by any powerful souls these days, that has not suffered from corruption."
"Enough." Death barked at War and Dante alike. "This will have to wait, until we have everyone assembled."
"Huh. Now, I'm really curious." Dante all but spat sarcastically, slightly unnerved and utterly overwhelmed about War's proposal. Dante really couldn't see himself in such a position. He held enough responsibilities already and didn't need the problems of all creation on top of it. He was a demon hunter, nothing more. If he indeed had pledged himself to anything, it was this occupation and nothing else.
And sometimes he wished that the only responsibilities he had, was choosing between double cheese on the pizza or not.
Hell and Heaven could rot for all he cared. Plus, he thought, that the riders were more fit to fill in those excruciatingly big shoes. He couldn't even fill his fathers, not that he ever tried. Or did he?
"There's another thing, we need to worry about." Danzig veered their attention away from Dante and towards Devon.
Nero could only stare at the things that unraveled before him. Dante was held in so high regards to be offered a position of unimaginable power, once granted by the creator himself. And deep in his heart, Nero knew why.
Because Dante was a good person. Simple as that. And it seemed, that simple was a magic thing these days. They could argue about him all day and still sum him up in one word at the end of it.
Kind.
Dante's motivations still were lying somewhere in the dark, as to why he did what he did. Yet, Nero knew, that Danzig had made a great impact on him. And the old man was just as mysterious to him. Yet, he never tingled his demon senses nor did anything that roused suspicion altogether. And Nero knew, he was sitting in the middle of events, that determined the fate not only for them but apparently for everything that was ever there and would be.
He heaved a sigh, feeling very small in this moment, a pebble under their shoes. But he was aware he wanted to do something as well. His conscience demanded it from him. He credited it to Kyrie and Credo, who both had shaped him into the man he wanted to be. And Dante and Vergil had taken up the rest to cement that determination in his soul, which wanted righteousness and goodwill to spread about. But under it all, he felt like he belonged here, even if he felt small compared to them. Then he needed to grow, simple as that.
If they'd only let him. And he'd prove to them he could. He knew he was a goodhearted person. They had told him over and over until he believed it. He deserved to live, even if others that deserved it too, didn't survive. It was his responsibility to keep their memory and honor it. And that he had learned from Dante as well, who had given him everything and asked nothing in return than to be a good person.
Easy as that.
Nero met Dante's eyes and as if the older hunter could read the sadness in his heart. He just gave Nero a subtle nod, which he returned. Was it all good? Were they okay?
It would seem so. And Nero felt relief wash over him and calm his mind and unknot the tangled mess in his stomach he didn't know he had up until now. And wasn't Dante one to protect them all. If there was a vote, like War had him assume, Nero would give his to Dante without question. He had pulled him out from deep desperate times. He couldn't see, why Dante wouldn't manage to do this for a whole world. Yes, Dante could do this. If he wanted to.
Danzig's loud voice pulled them all in without a warning. And it still needed some getting used to to, because it sounded well oiled like a new hinge, not croaky and squeaky any longer, not to mention, he had turned from old geezer, to commanding and condemning handsome, at least by evaluating the stares he received from all women in the room.
"I was presented with a riddle a long time ago. A very long time ago, where the world had just been born into it's splendid existence. I was punished for my love along with my siblings. At last, I have found my brother. And we won't see this world fall. We still don't know exactly what the curse is made of, but we are able to finally summon all the virtues now that Pesh is with us."
Dante stared at the remnants of the former tower of devils, pinpointing his brother right underneath the top peak in one of the many stone windows. Motionless as it would seem and no Yamato in sight. Good.
Dante left the bike where he stood, feeling very much unhappy he had to take it in the first place. Dante was not happy about the car being wrecked. On that note, he also was not happy that Nero had taken it without him knowing. He was not happy, that Vergil still occasionally lingered around Temen-ni-gru. Dante felt the air heavy and thick around him. He was not happy about that either.
Dante was not happy at all. With anything at this moment and with a disgruntled noise, he began the steep climb, which gave him time to think. Not that he wanted to to.
Danzig had very much kept a huge secret from him the entire time. And why? Dante didn't know. His gut feeling told him, the former old man must have had his reasons, yet Dante couldn't help to be pissed, even so he knew he shouldn't. His inner devil had another opinion about that, though.
Dante remembered the violent outburst, thank to the nuisance right above his head. And he also knew, his brother was nothing but a stranger to him after all. Whatever caused Vergil to leave, Dante had no clue. For the better half of six month, when Nero had arrived wet, undernourished and a straight mess overall, he thought things would finally turn out fine. But what he remembered of Vergil was nothing compared to the person he tried to share his life with right now. He thought he knew how Vergil ticked, but that was apparently not the case.
Vergil was a brooding walking ghost. Yes, he did join in on jobs, more than willingly actually, but that was just it. They rarely talked, like really talked about things in general. It was only a current situation, that arose or nothing. Vergil lived secluded from him and Nero, though he was a bit more accessible to the younger man, which had surprised Dante, after Vergil's initial attempt to break Nero after the fall of the false savior.
In the end it went well, under the difficult circumstances, because Dante had harshly refused to end another life. Vergil's, Nero's and that of an innocent host. Hadn't Vergil agreed upon this, Dante would have still subdued him, this was the plain truth. Maybe Vergil had agreed because of that. It was a common trait they shared, a stubbornness, which rivaled everything else.
Well, it was a given, Vergil had changed and Dante could only assume, what he had endured. And he simply had nothing to talk about, for the last ten years he had spent in the depth of hell itself. And Dante had stopped asking altogether, when Vergil refused him answers.
All he knew, Dante coaxed from Nero, who had a pretty sharp insight in his twin, courtesy of having to share his body with him for a while until their thoughts bled into each other and Nero hadn't been sure, if he had been still himself, or if it had been Vergil's wrath he felt driving through his mind and guts like a corkscrew. And it had added fuel to the fire, the rage that came from seeing his girlfriend die, her brother and almost himself.
Dante wished he could have been the same, that he had been for Nero, but Vergil's pride was much stronger, than to turn to his brother and confide in him. He always resorted to to keep quiet. And there was the reason, Dante was pissed at Vergil. At Danzig and at Nero. They all let Dante wander around in the dark. Dante hated it from the bottom of his heart. And when War dropped the bomb on him, he wanted to yell at all of them to stop assuming, that he'd be willing to always pick up the pieces behind someone. Yet, and here he almost laughed, he'd always find himself jumping in head-first.
Fortuna was thanks to Lady and Trish, but Dante had never second-guessed their choices. Especially Trish knew, that Dante wanted to find Yamato so badly, because he always wished to find a way to save Vergil impossible at it may had seemed and though his twin had always given the impression he never wanted to be saved.
No thanks. No word of gratitude, but hey, on the bright side he never left, though Dante had given him the choice. And Vergil had spited him, giving his best sneer, that he still needed to remember so many things, it was best to stay put.
Did Vergil figure things out? Did he find, what he had been looking for, whatever that was? Was Dante no longer necessary? Was it that? He would soon find out hopefully, though he was afraid. Did he want to find out? Or rather chain his brother to his side forever? If their was a solution, Dante would have given it, but no more sacrifices. Not from him, nor from anyone else.
Dante arrived at the top, where Vergil stood on the ledge of a broken window, relatively calm, looking over the fast asleep city.
Dante felt like walking down memory lane and it certainly didn't help to improve his mood, as he balanced along the tricky edge of the broken tower to occupy another window next to Vergil, who didn't even appear to have taken notice. But that was just Vergil's way of saying to leave him the hell alone.
Well, tough luck.
"Vergil." Dante acknowledged, as he sat down and let his legs dangle over the ledge, watching tiny pebbles fall over the ledge and into the depth below.
"I'm done with this." Vergil growled out of nowhere, Dante couldn't see his brothers face, yet he could perfectly envision it nonetheless.
"You kidding? Like you could go anywhere." Dante snapped back, not in the mood to flaunt his usual coolness around. He was done with it as well, and Vergil would figure this one out quick enough. Dante had a temper, yet he was so much better at suppressing it at this moment.
"And that's exactly the problem. This isn't the way I'm supposed to be. At your mercy." Dante sighed at his brother, as he admitted the gist of his problem. Dante should be glad, Vergil opted to spill the beans rather then to enshroud everything in unnerving silence, but Dante could only stare at the world below. A world, where they both belonged, and he didn't give a damn how.
"Vergil, I had no choice. It was the only option available at that time," Dante sounded impatient, and the underlying warning reached Vergil effortlessly. His brother was a master at disguising his feelings, just like he himself was. But when Dante grew frustrated, Vergil could hear it vibrate in his voice, as much as he wanted to hide it. Or maybe he didn't want to any longer. Of so, that was a change.
"Was it really? Or did you want to calm your guilt and have your brother back? Because, I don't care." Vergil was testing his brother. Why he wasn't even sure.
Dante almost thought the same. What did Vergil want to hear? That it had been a mistake? "You don't mean this. Should I just have sent you back to hell then? Is that what you want?"
"You knew exactly what I wanted."
Dante rubbed his face and wiped the raindrops off while he did, before he tried to catch a glimpse of his brother. But all he saw, was a bit of coat, waving in the wind and dripping from the damn rain. Vergil probably stood with his signature straight back, unblinking and immobile like a statue of impeccable, but cold hard stone. "Yeah, I couldn't let that happen, you know this. You would have ripped Nero apart and left his mind in shambles. And he didn't deserve it. Not that I believe, you would have done it in the first place."
"Don't be so assured. You said it yourself, I was going crazy. And I would have taken the boy over eventually. All you had to do was turn away and let me."
Dante couldn't believe his ears, so he did the only reasonable thing, he laughed, yet there was no glimpse on any happiness in it. "You don't believe that. You'd never done this to Nero. Because you know, he deserves better."
Vergil finally moved, his hands behind his back ruffled through his wet hair to put it back in place, while he gritted his teeth at Dante and his insufferable assumption, Vergil would care."I would have given him peace. And he wouldn't have to suffer like he did. It would have been quick and painless." Maybe he did. Nero would have been better off dead than this winy mess, Vergil had to endure for month, with sleeping on the kitchen next to the humming fridge, because the noise had seemed to calm somewhat down to finally fall asleep among the trash, that had littered the kitchen, top to floor at this point.
It had been awful to experience someone so in a disarray and out of control, Vergil wanted to kill him at some point and free him from a life of torment and guilt. One night, Vergil had rested along Nero in his mind, he had a strange dream, which was curious in itself, for Vergil never had dreamed a single time since Temen-ni-gru. And from that night forth, Vergil had the same reoccurring dream, loaded and enhanced through Nero's guilt, of the fateful night and the attack on their family mansion. And his little self cradled Dante in his arms, whispering his name over and over, trying to calm him and his screams,a s they watched it all burn. Their mother, their life, everything they had knows ascending in embers and bitter smoke, until ashes rained down on their heads, as they had fallen asleep from exhaustion and cold.
And Nero had see it all, and thus he was reminded of Dante. And how strangle close he had felt to the hybrid, almost like knowing him. This familiar feeling had spurned Nero on, to finally pack and leave. What had been left anyway? Nothing but silence, sadness and two graves.
Vergil couldn't assess the consequences at that time. But now he could. He should have taken action and never would have ended like this. Where he still found the strength and that little ray of hope, he could end his own suffering, was beyond him. Yet, he had endure ten years in hell, so wasn't he stronger than this? Wasn't his pride still there?
"Vergil..." Dante sighed at him, as he softly spoke his name. Maybe there it was. The hope he he had. Though he still felt bitter about it, he of all people should know better. Dante had tried to find him ever since, did he not? It took him long enough, but Vergil knew better than to give up hope.
"Spare me your pity, your remorse. I don't want it. But, I can't live like this either. I'd rather die than be in this incomplete state forever."
"You always said, you were incomplete in the other state." Vergil's eyes went wide, finally peeking around the stone wall, that separated them from each other, much like he did peek from time to time through the world and state that separated them as well. Vergil was still here, while Dante had progressed. But who said, it was over? It never was over, until he wanted it to be over. And that day would never come, that was what Vergil's pride told him right now. Maybe the years in hell had dulled his emotions down, but sometimes they flickered, like tiny stars in an else pitch black dark. If he squinted hard enough, he could see it. And Dante still believed him, after all he had done. Did Vergil think it was foolish for his brother to act like this? Why did he never gave up? Because Vergil never had given up, either, maybe that's why.
But the bitter taste from ash and sulfur never truly left him. This world seemed as gray and ashen as the next to him. And he blamed it on Dante and the state he was in. A being neither here nor there. In between and never truly somewhere at once.
"Maybe. But I will never find out now, if I truly and still feel like this. You are the picture perfect knight in shining armor. And for you to despise your demonic side and all the power that came with it, right now you're doing a shitty job of upholding that appearance. Admit it Dante, that night I changed everything for you. Without relying on your devil's power, you would have joined me shortly after in hell."
"You changed the both of us. And all I can say, I'm still not happy about it. But I can make the best of it, which I am. Pops would have wanted this."
At this, Vergil snarled suddenly. It never occurred to him, Dante remotely cared about him. It had always been a touchy subject, Dante tried to dodge like vegetables on a pizza – fiercely. Last time Vergil checked, Dante insulted everything their father had done with words, though when Vergil looked closely, he wanted to sneer back at him. Dante's actions truly spoke a different language.
"Don't you dare talk about him. You never gave a rats ass about him all those years and you still know nothing. Don't make it a matter of heritage now. This is all you. You and your savior complex. It's sickening."
Now it was Dante's time to drop the friendliness. Vergil and his damn pride, he sucked off the memory of their father was as sickening as his own so called savior complex. Not to mention it reminded him of Fortuna, and there was nothing further from his mind than to end up like that geezer. He wasn't the type that wore crazy well. It clashed heavily with his uptake of laziness and the flawless depiction of it.
"What would you have me do then? If I release you, you'd be going straight back to hell. Besides, this town needs protection or it just would go to hell itself and drag everybody with it."
"I don't care. The angels have every right to get rid of it." Vergil's temper flared with Dante's words.
"Not on my watch, Verge. I like being here." As if Dante needed anything to justify his actions. Danzig raised him better than this. A job, their father should have done, but only abandoned them for all he knew at a crucial time no less. But every story has different sides. And Dante involuntarily had learned a thing or two about Sparda. And there were many things that still didn't sum up in his opinion. But he didn't feel like addressing any issue concerning right now and regretted immediately for bringing him up. Vergil always had a weak, and blind, spot when it came to him.
"We'll see how that turns out, won't we, " Vergil admonished darkly, and adding a huff for good measure.
"So, you're gonna stay," Dante asked, while carefully getting back on his feet and dramatically dusted himself off. As if he ever cared, how he looked anyway.
"You say it, as if I had a choice." One last jab, but even Vergil sounded tired at this point.
"You do. I'm always giving you a choice, brother, if you hadn't noticed." Dante made it past the wall, that had separated them, looking Vergil dead in the eye, while he spoke. And his brother didn't blink, when he replied.
"Don't expect me to thank you. You don't know what it's like. I though I could accept. I did. But not anymore. Not when everyone's moving and I am stuck like this." In Vergil's defense, Dante expected nothing less from him. And it wasn't in Vergil to break his character so easily. Whatever had been before Temen-ni-gru, this was a different world and a different Dante to Vergil. He always was on his toes around him, mainly because there was some fierce in Dante's eyes now and then, that Vergil still tried to figure out.
"What do you want me to do then? Fight me?" It was meant random, and they way Vergil averted his eyes, he knew he had won. But Vergil wasn't handing his defeat over without a last sting. Another thing, Dante remembered. Though naturally, the wound on his had healed, twice, but at times like these, he still felt the pain, though it traveled to his chest more or less.
"Don't be foolish. I'm nothing but an echo of my former self. I couldn't beat you. One snap of your fingers and I'd be at your feet." If Dante didn't know better, he could have sworn Vergil sounded almost amused.
Dante grinned to himself, as they stood next to each other, eyes scanning the distance, than to look at each other. And Dante felt his heart a bit lighter.
Whatever Vergil had done, Dante never found it in himself to hate him. Or even stay mad for long. He was his brother. And there had been a time, they truly had been close and nearly inseparable. Yet, Dante knew after all that happened, they may never make it back to that time. Though, it wouldn't keep him from trying.
And with that, Dante knew he had been too harsh on Nero. But he was such a damn kid, that still didn't know half of what's like to be a hybrid and have the Sparda blood flowing through his veins. A man hated by an entire realm, so they needed to be prepared always and ever. And Nero had a lot to learn. Yet, when Dante could go so easy on his twin, he could be going a bit easier on his little brother by heart as well.
Vergil might be the wiser out of the two of them, but Nero had guts and fire. Things Dante equally shared, but also had many years to shape and beat his inner devil into submission and his feelings at bay. Nero didn't. That was the whole problem. And he was sure, Nero still had that inner devil somewhere in hiding. They only needed to find it.
Nero only needed guidance, that should have been the first and foremost thing. Dante might not be a good teacher, he would leave that to Vergil, but he cared a lot and would kill for Nero. He was only sad, that the boy seemed to forget from time to time.
All they had was each other.
"You know I wouldn't. That's not my style. If I want to beat your ass, I beat your ass fair and square. Or you mine." Dante slapped Vergil's shoulder, hard enough to almost make him fall off the tower. "Just so you know, I will find a way."
Dante thought, Vergil never really understood the risk, the ritual had posed for each of them. And Dante purposefully hadn't revealed, that the spell had affected them both. The one defeated was to true into a devil arm, but the fight had been real, just because Vergil didn't know what would have happened to Dante, if he had won. For a second, Dante had wished for Vergil to win. But who could guess, what Vergil hid in his heart and if it had been reversed, what he had done with having access to Dante's powers.
They had grown so exceptionally over the years, Dante himself was still surprised, how Nero had been nothing but a toy, a pesky fly if he'd go so far and call him that. But after learning his story, it had made sense. But still, even Yamato couldn't hurt Dante severely enough anymore, though there had been a time, where that sword would have been able to cut him in half, if Vergil had wanted it to.
"Stop acting so high and mighty, Dante. I will bid my time and wait for my chance to reverse this on my own. I don't need you and your powers. Now leave me. I'm tired of talking."
Dante didn't blink, as Vergil vanished. Probably ready to return home, broodingly no doubt, but at least dry and warm. Vergil did liked the comfort of his attic after all. Solitary or not.
Dante stared into the night sky, countless raindrops hitting his frame as he stood motionless and for a few more minutes. And in these few minutes, even Dante found comfort in solitude, not wanting go home, for the moment he entered, he knew he would get hit with a flurry of people and problems.
As he lowered his head to gaze down into the depth, asking himself if he should just jump, not feeling up to the tedious climb back down. Damn this thing was still mighty and high, even as a ruin.
He went so far as to ponder seriously over it and the very tempting fact to finally catch a decent nap, while his body would heal from the countless fractions he would receive on impact. It would hurt like hell, no arguing there, but he would pass out eventually. He chuckled at himself - crazy might run in the family after all.