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Summary:

"You appear older."

Damn you, Vergil.

"Yeah... I'm... 30 now."

"Over a decade..."

He knows what's coming next, can practically feel the question oozing from Vergil.

"What of me?"

Dante bumps into Vergil from 11 years ago amidst his fight with Mundus.

Notes:

hey everyonee another dmc fic lolol this time with this time travel NOT fix it. just angst here sadly. i wanted to quickly write something up cuz this has been hogging my brain for the past few days so if it's a little messy i'm sorry!

i haven't played dmc2 so i don't know much about what happened there but i heard that dante goes back to hell in the end sooo that's a bit of context for this fic. if i'm completely wrong about that just assume dante's there cuz he's dante and he's always doing some shit lolol

anyway hope you enjoy and happy new year!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Dante's boots sloshed through the thick and murky blood of the Underworld. He does not know how long he's been walking, only that it's really starting to piss him off.

How the hell did he even get down here? One second he was fighting some demons in some random tower, the next a bright flash blinds him and he's somehow here. Not that it's a problem, Dante's just grown tired of these tricks and wants to go home already. It's quite boring when there aren't any Lady's to tease or Trish's to gossip with.

(Or Vergil's to fight with.)

He's almost about to turn around and pick a different route (not that there're any roads) until the sound of movement and liquid splashing reaches his ears.

Something is coming.

He readies Ebony and Ivory, careful not to make any noise to alert the incoming demon.

It feels like an eternity until a figure appears in the darkness, slow and sluggish. It's definitely not a regular demon, humanoid in a sense, but Dante isn't taking any chances. Ordinary humans (Dante reminds himself—because while he is human, he is by no means ordinary) don't make it this far in Hell. He immediately cocks his gun and aims it directly ahead.

The sound causes it to freeze. Seems like it didn't even notice he was there.

He is just about to fire his rounds.

"Dante?"

This time he's the one who freezes. He almost missed it, believing it to be a trick his mind played on him, until he hears it again.

"Is it really you? Or..."

A voice he hasn't heard in years but remembers all too well. Vergil, his brother's voice. Someone seriously had to be playing tricks on him, because his brother is dead he killed him himself how is he here—

The figure stumbles into view and Dante fights the urge to drop his guns right there.

"...Are you just another hallucination created by him?" He sneers, and there's no mistaking that tone. Somehow Vergil is right there in front him, drenched in blood and clutching the hole in his side in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

He looks different, nothing like Dante now despite being twins, and it's then he realizes Vergil's younger, the same age of the night when the Temen-ni-gru was risen.

He can't tell if this is real, a hallucination, a dream, whatever it is. Dante breathes in, "Vergil, it's me."

A flash of rage flickers in his brother's eyes, and before he knew it Vergil was charging at him with the Yamato in hand. Dante blocks quickly, too quickly for his liking, and he hates how easy it is to push him back.

Vergil's scowl deepens, and for a second Dante sees pain in his eyes, "If you think dressing up as my little brother will defeat me you are sorely mistaken, Mundus."

The name of the (former) Prince of Darkness fills his stomach with lead, and he almost loses his balance at the accusation. Dante relaxes and merely steps away. He won't cause any more harm to Vergil. He doesn't think he can bear it.

"Dante isn't here. He's in the human world, I made sure of that. Your little mind games won't do you any good," Vergil's glare hardens and he raises the Yamato, but it does nothing to hide the thickness of his voice; how it almost seems like Vergil is upset—or worse, regretful— over it.

"How long have you been fighting him?" He barely recognizes the words coming out of his own mouth.

Vergil's face shifts, and Dante knows it'll take more than that to gain his brother's trust. Dante sighs and holsters Ebony and Ivory, raising his hands up in surrender. He keeps his eyes downcast, finding it harder and harder to look his brother in the eye each passing second. "I don't wanna fight you, Verg." He can't help but find that hypocritical.

"...How are you here?" Vergil's strained voice comes out.

Dante doesn't know how to answer that. He has a hunch that it's some sort of time travel, but can't— won't— say that in front of Vergil.

For now, he'll feign ignorance, "Just as clueless as you are. I don't even know if this is real or not." He tries to keep his tone light, prevent the conversation from straying to his brother's future too far.

"You appear older."

Damn you, Vergil.

"Yeah... I'm... 30 now."

"Over a decade..."

He knows what's coming next, can practically feel the question oozing from Vergil.

"What of me?"

Expecting it didn't weaken the blow any less.

Dante swallows the lump in his throat.

Should he tell him? Would he even believe him? What would it even change? Vergil's here, the gates to Hell are closed, and his fate has long been sealed. Dante knows that. Dante knows because he sealed it for him.

What would he even tell him? That he failed to defeat Mundus and was practically dead for the next decade? Hell, Dante himself doesn't even know what Vergil faced after falling into Hell.

Would that even deter him? Knowing Vergil, it wouldn't stop him in the slightest. It would only push him further. Dante can't tell if he likes or dislikes that.

The only thing he knows is you're dead you're dead and I killed you and I didn't even know it was you and I'm sorry Vergil I'm so sorry

His older brother (because no matter how old Vergil is, he will always be Dante's big brother) stares at him, and if Dante's silence serves as an answer, Vergil doesn't show it.

The ground beneath them rumbles, and Dante knows his time's almost up. He is almost here. And judging by his condition, this may very well be Vergil's last moments as himself.

The thought frightens him and he reaches out, hoping praying Vergil takes his hand this time.

(Please Vergil you don't want to do this come back home with me don't leave me all alone again—)

(I miss you)

He wants to say all those things and more. He wishes things were different. But he only croaks out a small "Vergil."

"Dante, go."

He shakes his head, "No, you don't know what you're doing, please."

His head snaps, agitation clear, "I'm completely aware—"

"You won't win, Vergil, stop it!"

He's barely able to gauge Vergil's reaction before his vision— or the scene— starts to warp. Panic sets in and he runs towards his last chance at saving him at least once in his pathetic life.

"Take my hand—!"

Just like that day, Vergil slashes the Yamato through his palm, and Dante's world goes white.

He's back to where he started.

The two amulets suddenly feel heavier than before.

Notes:

just some extra notes:

- vergil's fight with mundus is never really touched on and the only thing we know is he loses badly. for this fic to work i kinda imagined vergil getting hit with something (that hole in his side) and trying to hide from mundus to heal. it seems a bit ooc for vergil butttt had to do it for the fic (also some more bias on my side cuz i would prefer if vergil held out against mundus for at least a little while and wasnt just one shotted)

- on the time travel itself, i still have no clue on that LOL. i was initially debating on it being some kind of dream/hallucination and not straight up time travel, so lets just assume some demonic shit happened in hell and sent dante a decade back

- i hear a lot of things (good and bad) on dante's personality in dmc2, so if thats also ooc I sincerely apologize LOL i was aiming for his dmc1 + 2007 anime characterization with dmc2 settings

that's all, thank you for reading!