"It bothers me that the school is for wizards, Father," Vergil drawled, voice low. He was standing in the living room in his jeans and button up blue shirt, watching his father, Sparda, run around, packing. Vergil stared grudgingly at the burnt mark the paper left on the once prestine coffee table. Sparda sighed, stopping his hectic run. He looked at his son with a very fatherly(or as fatherly as a guy with a monocle can) scorn.

"Vergy-" "DON'T CALL ME THAT!" "-I know Dumbledore. It's a great school! I'm sure you'll enjoy it!" Sparda encouraged. His dark grey vest was wrinkled from the little happy dance he did when the barn owl had delivered the message. Sparda and Vergil were in a similar bind as Dante and Nero: no jobs. So, the enthusiastic Hell General welcomed the mission with open arms. Vergil, not so much.

"I'm twenty five. How can I attend school if I've already graduated college?" Sparda sighed in a very mocking manner. Vergil, in response, partially unsheathed Yamato with his thumb.

"Magic, my son. Magic. Now!" The Devil clapped his hands, startling Vergil. "Go on and pack! This is not up for discussion." Vergil grumbled audibly as he trudged to his room, shoulders slumped. He slammed his bedroom door in a very uncharacteristic display of childishness.

"Very mature! Keep slamming the door like that and you might knock this apartment to the ground!" Sparda yelled. The purple clad man waited, then smiled smugly as Vergil did nothing. He lifted a bright blue vest to fold when Vergil opened his door and shut it nicely. Sparda smirked.

Vergil, instead, was frowning deeply as he folded his clothing. It was all the same, really. Black skinny jeans(Dante introbuced him. They were very comfortable and tucked into his boots with no trouble), blue shirts, underwear, and what not. He stuffed his shaving kit into the leather suitcase and a picture of all four of the boys. Unlike Dante, Vergil couldn't stand the loss of his mother. Seeing her picture sent waves of pain over him. So he chose to not keep a reminder of what he failed to protect.

He shook his head as he closed the trunk, seizing the handle and lugging it down the hall effortlessly. He rolled his eyes as Sparda came into view, sitting ontop of his in hopes to squeeze the overstuffed suitcase into a more acceptable size. Vergil set his bag down to cross his arms and glare condescendingly at his oh-so-mature father.

"You'd think a Hell General would have more dignity to use two bags rather than childishly sit atop one," he drawled icily. Sparda widened his eyes a bit at the coldness of his eldest son, but nonetheless frowned innocently.

"Being a Hell General doesn't mean I have to be mature ALL of the time!" Sparda exclaimed. Vergil rolled his eyes before walking over and attempting to push the suitcase closed. His brows furrowed as it hardly budged.

"You're never mature. You're dance reminded me of a certain fruit dance executed by a farce of a grim reaper on one of those pointless cartoons Trish watches," Vergil grunted, now pushing with his elbow. Sparda wiggled a bit, glaring.

"Did not."

"Did, too."

"No, I didn't! You're being a hypocrite!"

"No, just proving my point." With that, Vergil managed to snap the trunk shut, almost pitying it. Almost. The blue clad devil picked his own trunk up and walked to his father's purple packard. Though the color left much to be desired, he enjoyed the smoothness of the ride this vehicle provided.

"Let us go. Unfortunately, we must meet up with my idiot twin and underachieving half brother before making our way to the Leaky Kettle," Vergil all but ordered. Sparda narrowed his eyes at this, tossing their bags carefully into the back.

"Cauldron. Leaky Cauldron." Sparda growled as Vergil simply shrugged and slipped into the passenger seat.

"Let's just go. Time wasted is time for me to rethink my decision in accepting this mission." With that, and a well deserved whack to the head, the Dark Knight Sparda and his rather irritated son left Brooklyn to Capulet City International Airport.

First, thank you deathbykitsune, Knight25, and tigerwar for taking the time to read this ridiculous story. It makes my day to know that people still enjoy the original Dante and welcome wacky crossovers like this. I know this chapter was a little short, but I needed it out ther. Sparda may seem like a manbaby, but as his character isn't too deeply explored, I was hoping to make it so that his overlall Dante like behavior is simply a coping tool. Dante's is strawberry sundaes, Vergil's is world domination, and Sparda will have a main thing here. Let's face it, in this wacky family Nero appears to be the most normal. How odd it is to say that! Thank you guys and please review! Loves!