Brother Never Cry

Summary: My take on how Vergil becomes bad, Dante becomes responsible, how the events of DMC3 transpired. Ignores DMC1 completely due to ignorance of the game.

Disclaimer: Capcom owns everything I'm writing about except the plot, the weird wax demons and assorted OCs.

Thanks to:

loveaswellashateforever: Hiya! I've noticed you've taken your story down…how come? All you need is a beta and editor and your story will be as right as rain. Thanks for reviewing all my other stories as well.

The comfy Tyrant: Aw, I'm no genius…though I liked being called one as much as the next person (grins).

Sutremaine: Thanks for the info! The Saturday after my last chapter, I went shopping with some friends and I spotted a comic store…and I got the manga. After that, I found another store somewhere else and now I own Evil Woman. Couldn't get the rest coz I didn't have 'nuff money…sigh. Can't wait to get my hands on the last two…

ShadesofBlood: I take pride in my cliffies. That'll probably be the last one, though. This story is nearly finished, I'll just need to tie it all up.

BladeMaster16: You're welcome. You've helped me mucho as well with your reviews. Heh…I made Vergil really evil and creepy, didn't I? Poor Verge…he did it only because I made him…

Vergil (sporting large lump on head): You can say that again…

Shut up and remember whose mercy you're at. At least I didn't put you into a DanteXVergil pairing, so be grateful. Now go and lay the table.

Vergil (grumbles): Slave driver…(shuffles awkwardly away due to the numerous large white bandages covering him)

(Insert Evil Author Chuckle here)

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Chapter Seven: Picking Up The Pieces

Two identical faces beam into a camera, blue eyes alight with the joy of living.

Flip.

Two boys in a playground. One sits on a swing, the other stands behind, hands on his brother's shoulders. They smile.

Flip.

A birthday cake, with nine candles on it, Mint chocolate, with rainbow sprinkles and icing that spells out, 'Happy Birthday, Vergil & Dante!'

Flip.

A golden-haired woman, arms around her sons, who smile at her adoringly.

Flip.

Prom night. Hair falling into his eyes, Dante waves at the camera, clad in a tux, arm around a pretty girl.

Flip.

Graduation. Looking serious in black robes, the twins stand together, scrolls in hand.

Flip. Flip. Flip.

Dante's first date. Camping in the mountains. A holiday in Italy. More birthdays. Vergil receiving numerous awards and scholarships. Dante's disastrous first and only attempt at fishing. Vergil laughing his ass off. A lifetime of shared happiness and brotherly love, held within the worn covers pf the album, the leather old and stained from use. Staring at Eva's laughing face, knowing that she could only exist for him, there, on paper thereafter, Dante felt numb. There was a hole in his heart. He could feel it whenever he thought about his mother, now returned to the earth after so many long years. He would never see her again, vibrant and animated, he would never receive another hug, hear another word from her. He saw her in his thoughts and reached out to her, only to have the precious illusion crumble and be reminded, oh so cruelly, that she was lost to him forever. His eyes burned as he closed the album and carefully set it aside.

Hermissa picked it up, her fingers tracing over the peeling gold letters, Memory Lane, stitched into the cover, her silent gaze offering both sympathy and comfort. Dante sat amid the mess of his room, shoulders hunched and shaking just the slightest bit, prematurely white hair spilling over his face and hiding his expression.

Hermissa didn't know all the details, but what she did know shocked her enough to resist her natural impulse to pry the rest out of Dante. It'd been nearly a day and a half since she'd found Dante sprawled and unconscious in his backyard, cut and bruised up, but nothing too serious. Still, the hospital had kept him under observation for about a day. He'd clearly gone through a lot since he'd left her house, and he was only discharged once the staff had felt that he wasn't in danger of becoming mentally unstable from his ordeal. The police had been notified, and Hermissa had sat through the questioning with Dante. She still couldn't believe it. Vergil had always been nice to her, so calm and collected. She couldn't imagine the stress he must have undergone that had broken his unbending, rigid will.

"Aren't you going to bring that with you?" she asked softly, patting the album she cradled in her hands. Her voice jerked him out of his reverie, and he gave her a blank look before the raw emotion crashed into his eyes like a tidal wave. She saw his jaw clench and his head shake firmly. "No. Keep it if you want." He turned and yanked out a drawer so forcefully its contents spilled onto the already swamped floor, covered with clothes, books, socks and goodness knows what else A faint red glow arrested Hermissa's attention as Dante pulled out a necklace with a red stone set in gold formerly concealed in a pair of knobby socks. He looked at it with an unreadable expression before putting it around his neck. Hermissa was surprised. She'd no idea that Dante had that kind of taste in jewelry.

"My mother's," Dante sad in explanation when he saw Hermissa's raised eyebrow. "She gave me this amulet on my fifteenth birthday…told me to take care of it…it was one of a pair. Vergil…got the other one." His brother's name escaped his lips reluctantly.

"Dante…" The girl's ached for him, as it had been doing ever since she'd heard his incredible story about how his confrontation with Vergil, that had ended in a massive sword fight and Vergil's departure from his life. Gazing at Dante, slumped over in a pose of utter and complete defeat, she went over to him and put her arms around him.

"They'd never catch him, you know." Dante's voice was hollow.

"Pardon?" Hermissa blinked.

"Verge," Dante said in the same emotionless voice. The Chief had been convinced enough by Dante's account to write out a search warrant for the wayward twin and send officers to investigate. Right now Vergil's room had been blocked off while samples were taken, and a officer guarded the house in case Vergil tried to return.

"He won't be found if he won't want to. And if he is, he'll be better than any team they can send after him," Dante continued, a hint of unconscious pride in his voice. "They won't catch him," he repeated.

"Dante," Hermissa said. She'd let the album fall into the floor in her haste to go to her boyfriend, and it had fallen open to a photo of Dante and Vergil after a school trip to the Observatory. Standing in front of the college, Dante flashed his confident smile, so different from who he was now, arm around Vergil's shoulder, his face as always serious and reserved, but it seemed to her that the corner of his lips were quirked, and there was a hint of laughter in his eyes. She knew that photo. She had taken it. And she had thought, as she aimed the camera that day, about how rare the love the two brothers shared was, and how she'd never see it anywhere else again.

Lying, in pieces. Its sharp ends stabbing Dante in the heart whenever he thought about his brother. Hermissa steeled herself to open those wounds, because she knew that those hurts would fester if ignored and forced to the back of the mind…

"Do you still love him?" she asked softly, her tone begging him to confide in her and unload his misery, but also filled with affectionate understanding. If he would not share with her, she would not press. Dante remained silent, struggling with his emotions, while Hermissa waited with infinite patience.

"Gods, yes," Dante blurted out, looking almost startled at the words spilling from his mouth in an onslaught of pain. "How could I? How could I not? He's my big bro and always will be. He's my twin. We made a promise, you know. To protect each other. And he broke that promise and threw it in my face." He paused for breath, then went on as though compelled. Hermissa's embrace tightened as he spoke, each word a serrated barb dragging through his heart and out through his lips. "I hate him. I love him. I feel guilty for hating and loving him. I wish I could stop loving him. Just like how he stopped loving me. It would make things so much easier…" The last few words escaped in a gusty sigh.

"But you know what, Hermissa? I don't hate him for killing those two people. Hell, I'd even thought of it myself. Those were the two sonafabitches who killed my mother. And we both loved her so much. Maybe Vergil even loved her more than I did. No, it was the fact that he did it without regret, without sorrow. I might still have forgiven him then. That's how much I love him. But he said such things to me, such terrible things, Hermissa, that…" The girl could feel his whole frame shudder as he fought to control himself.

"That I knew that the world wouldn't be safe from him until he's dead."

Half-embarrassed by his outburst, Dante drew away from her slightly and bowed his head, letting his hair hide his face again. He fiddled with his collar while Hermissa absorbed what she had heard. It appalled her. It touched her.

"And who's going to make sure…?" she asked, unable to hide a hint of rebuke in her tone. She immediately chastised herself as Dante stiffened. "I'm so sorry…I shouldn't have…"

"Hermissa. Sweetheart." Dante rested his chin on her head. "You're a wonderfully understanding person, and I love you. But…I'm the only person for this. The only person who can stop him. And I will. I will," he reaffirmed, his voice breaking. "even if it kills me to do it." He sighed, low and soft. "That's why I want to leave, Hermissa. This—this is the world you deserve. Safe, and untainted. But I'm not that way. I'm going to follow Vergil into the darkness. And it's dangerous there, filled with things you couldn't imagine…" He looked at her with a sad smile. "I want you to promise me one thing."

"Yes?" Hermissa had never heard Dante sound so serious before.

"Forget about me. I…I'm hardly normal, Hermissa. I should have realized that from the start. I tried to live a normal life. Middle school, college, university…what does it all matter now? Vergil and me, we used to talk about what we'd be when we grow up. He wanted to be a doctor. But it's an impossible dream. We are what we are, and I can't change that. Please, Hermissa. Promise me. Find someone else, get married, have children, be happy. Forget about this poor sod."

"Dante!" Hermissa exclaimed. "How could you ask something like that! I thought you'd thought better of me." Her voice softened, as Dante looked rather bewildered. "I still don't understand, Dante, and maybe I never will. But I suppose you have some good reason for doing all this, and I trust your judgment. Maybe I'll take your advice. Nevertheless, you were my first love, and I'll always remember you. Don't ask me to forget the happy times we were able to share together."

Dante kissed her in reply. It was a long, passionate kiss, and through it he apologized to her, and said goodbye, and a dozen other things that he would never be able to convey in words. Hermissa tasted his tears, warm and salty, as he broke the kiss and buried his face into her hair.

"Christ, I'm pathetic," he said thickly.

"No," Hermissa said. "You're human, like the rest of us. You have a human heart." She didn't notice the change in Dante's expression as he raised his head and gave her a strange look.

"Vergil…he didn't want to be human…" he mumbled.

"What was that?" Hermissa asked, giving him a comfortable smile.

Dante looked at her straight into the eye. "I wish…I wish a lot of things," he said. "And one of them is staying here with you, and forgetting. But like my father, I can't forget and pretend everything's all hunky-dory." He zipped up his suitcase, and gazed around. "I'll miss this place." Even as he said it, he realized that it wasn't true. What he would be missing would be, in reality, all the happiness and innocence associated with this house. A house the Spardas had called home, a house where a bond had been built over years and broken in a single night.

Hermissa stood up and pushed a pathway through the debris strewn on the floor with one foot. "What're you going to do with all this stuff?" she asked, wrinkling her nose as her shoe encountered something particularly disgusting.

"Throw it away," Dante said indifferently. "I don't care about any of it, anymore. Jeremy will take care of the real estate stuff for me. I just want to get out of the country as fast as I can."

"Will you…" Hermissa hesitated, "Will you let me visit you someday?"

"I don't think that'll be a good idea." Dante said, hefting his meager luggage with one hand. He'd taken a few clothes, some books he really liked, money, a laptop, and of course Rebellion. All else he'd left behind. His textbooks, notes, posters of rock stars and teams, they all belonged to a previous life he had no intention in returning to. When he saw the hurt on the girl's face, however, he relented somewhat. "One day, Hermissa. When I'm ready. When I've done what I left here for. I'll write to you."

And Hermissa had to be content with that.

They took a taxi to the airport. It was a quiet sendoff, with only Hermissa and her parents present. Dante had not told his other friends of his departure, and they would probably only find out from Hermissa when he was far away.

Hermissa's mom fussed over him, and her dad gruffly patted his shoulder when the time for his flight neared. He waved as he walked through the glass doors of the terminal. Hermissa waved back, her face shining with tears. He had a bit of trouble explaining Rebellion, but at last security let him through after he said that it was a valuable family heirloom, which was pretty much true.

The plane took off at three. As the airport receded in the distance, Dante faced front, determined not to look back again. The plane flew serenely on, bringing him nearer and nearer towards his new life. Dante smiled for the first time since last night, as he took the first step in rebuilding his shattered life.

It was time to pick up the pieces, and make a new future.

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He would never have been caught dead in a place like this.

Which was exactly the reason why he was here, hunkered in a corner of this seedy little bar of dubious reputation, enduring its sleazy patrons, pounding music and cheap beer. The air stank of stale cigarette smoke, vomit and sex. On the dance floor wanna-be punks with Mohawk cuts grinded with skinheads, chicks in tight leather pants wiggled their butts to the beat, along with several other disreputable persons who looked as though they belonged behind bars. Drugs, murder, prostitution—it was all just another night in the all-so-aptly named Ninth Level.

Vergil scowled threateningly at an approaching female who was practically bursting out of her skimpy top and miniskirt, as he had scowled at any other intruders in his personal space the whole night. She got the message and disappeared to find some other more willing customer. Vergil wished he was anywhere else, but likely his pest of a brother had already notified the police. He'd be a walking target if he so much as stuck a toe into his usual haunts. He took a sip of his drink, gagged and spat it out again. He'd bought it only because he would have been thrown out if he wasn't a paying customer. Ordinarily Vergil wouldn't have cared, let alone step inside, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself while he figured out his plan of action.

Books, he told himself. He needed books, to find out how, exactly, his father had sealed the gates of hell—and how to unseal them again. Lost in thought, he didn't register the man sitting down next to him until he had made himself comfortable. Vergil glared and turned away, not fancying any conversation.

"Vergil Sparda, I presume?" his neighbor murmured in a low voice. Almost instantly, Vergil's head whipped around and he stared at the other man suspiciously. He couldn't help noticing that the man was unusually tall, even taller than him, with a clean shaven head. There was something odd about his eyes…

"Who wants to know?" Vergil asked coolly, his hand already closing around Yamato's hilt, and his body tensed for action.

The man chuckled. "Peace, friend. News travels fast in the Underworld. Now, am I right in thinking that we have the same goals?"

"And what would they be?" Vergil shot back, purposely not giving any definite answer. Nevertheless, he was interested. He was getting major vibes off this seemingly fragile human…vibes that were decidedly demonic in nature.

"I am an expert in demonology," the man said. "For years I have known of the existence of demons among us. I became dissatisfied with my life…my weaknesses." His hand clenched. "I spurned humanity. I sought to become a demon. But for that to happen…" The man turned his eyes on Vergil, and for the first time he noticed that they were mismatched; one blue, one red, both glowing with eerie luminance in the dim lighting. "The gate to hell must open."

"Why should I trust you?" Vergil asked flatly, after a moment of silence. The man smirked a bit in reply. "For now, it should be enough that you need me to help you find the seal, and I need you to open it. But this is not a suitable place to talk."

"I'm a felon. I've got little choices," Vergil said brusquely. The man smiled in triumph. "So, you agree that we should work together?"

"I haven't agreed to anything yet." Yamato was now out of its sheath and pressing against the man's midsection. "We will talk," Vergil said. "And for now, that is all that I will promise. Should you attempt to double-cross me…"

There was hatred, but also respect, in the man's eyes as he nodded; the respect that creatures of the Underworld offer their fellows when they recognize the darkness within one another. Vergil sheathed the tachi sword again in a fluid move. "So that we understand each other."

"Oh, I do." The man smirked. "By the way, my name is Arkham."

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"What do you mean, I need my brother?" Vergil sat back and glared angrily at Arkham. He'd hoped that he would never have to lay eyes on that spineless human-lover again. However, Arkham was nodding, reinforcing what he had just said.

"Surely one son of Sparda is enough!" Vergil said bitterly. He was aware that he sounded childish and jealous of his brother, and the fact just made him angrier than ever.

"Sparda intended to pass the key to hell to his eldest son, I surmise." Arkham said in his annoyingly oh-I-am-so-superior voice. "But instead, his wife gave birth to twins…so he solved the problem by dividing the key between you. You have half of the key, and Dante will not give up his without a fight. To him, as to you, it is the last gift from the mother you both loved so much…"

Vergil gritted his teeth at the mockery in Arkham's tone, but forced himself to hold his temper in check. He could always kill Arkham….after Temen-ni-gru was raised, and the gate to the demon world open.

"I imagine that my presence would be a strong enough bait," he said coldly. "No doubt he will feel that it is his duty to rid the world of my menace or some other such nonsense."

"My thoughts exactly." Arkham smiled at his 'partner' nastily.

"It'll be a family reunion you'll never forget."

Vergil wanted to grab the book in Arkham's hands and throw it into his face. Instead, he clutched the amulet that hung hidden beneath his long coat. It pulsed in his hand like a living heart. Beating to the same rhythm that the amulet probably hanging around Dante's neck was.

"Don't miss me too much, Dante," Vergil whispered to his absent brother.

"We'll see each other again soon enough."

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Author's Ending Note: 10/11/05: Pretty lousy ending, I know, but I couldn't think of any other thing to add. And I suspect Dante was too mushy in the first part of this chapter. Strangely enough, two nights ago I had a dream that my own mother was dead. She isn't, thank God. I used the feelings I felt in my dream in this chapter when Dante was looking through the album. It was a horrible feeling, and I don't think I did it enough justice. It's impossible to. I did my best, though.

Anyway, this is the last chapter. Yeah. But before you groan in disbelief at the totally pathetic ending, it's not over yet! One more epilogue to go before I close the curtains on a wonderful piece of work that I had a lot of fun writing. Thanks to all you guys for your support.

T. Axile.

COMING SOON: EPILOGUE—A CRAZY PARTY

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