FicWad

It had happened so fast, Dante had only had time to react and fire, and, admittedly, his aim had been a bit off. But he'd taken the fucking ghoul out, by God, and but good. True enough, he wouldn't have, had it not gotten the jump on Vergil and taken him down, and as he stood there, barrel still smoking, arm trembling a bit, that should have been his first priority, instead of standing there, gaping at the spot in the air where it had stood. Vergil was down, and out for the count, it seemed, but in the end, he could only blame himself, when he came to. It had been his idea to search underneath the city of St. Augustine, and Dante had been more than reluctant, still shaken from what had happened back in Georgia. But then, a good little brother didn't let his big brother go alone, so he'd traipsed along after, and that was what it got them.

Dante picked his way over the bones littering the ground, making his way to where Vergil was slumped against the sewer wall, the streak of blood that had been left behind after Vergil had hit it and slid down not comforting him in the slightest. But he was breathing, his chest rising and falling with a regular, if slow, rhythm, Dante noticed, as he reached him, putting the fingertips of one hand against his neck to feel his pulse as he used the other arm to lift him away from the wall.

His back was a mass of deep, angry, and bloody clawmarks, where he'd gotten hit before being tossed, and Dante visibly winced, glad Vergil wasn't conscious to see it. For all that he bitched, that was his brother that was hurt, and it pissed him off that he didn't know how to resurrect the fucker to kill it again, because it had made Vergil bleed. Dante was the only one allowed to do that. But it was going to be fine; Vergil was insanely tough, and Dante knew that, and he'd heal (in fact, at the ends of each mark, it already looked as though his flesh was stitching itself back together at preternatural speed), and he'd be pissed as hell that he'd had a jacket and shirt ruined. Vergil was weird like that. Half the time Dante wondered if it was some kind of cover up for looking weak, but he never pondered on that for too long.

"Dammit, Vergil, now I gotta haul your fat ass out of here." But it was said without venom as he dropped his hand from Vergil's throat, shifting around to get a good grip on him and get Vergil's limp form over a shoulder in a fireman's carry, before straightening to his feet. "I'm putting your fat ass on a diet." It was said with a huff, because really, Vergil wasn't all that light, and as dead weight he was insanely heavy, and insanely cumbersome. Dante supposed it had a lot to do with them being the same height, or some other such nonesense. He didn't much care. As far as he was concerned, getting Vergil back to their room and seeing what he could do for the marks on his back was first priority. Everything else, including his own bitching, could wait.

It didn't mean he didn't bitch in his head, as he slogged through the sewers, back to the point they'd entered at. It was outside of town, on an abandoned stretch of lonely road facing the ocean, and not much else, and unearthly quiet when Dante finally reached the outside again, into the sunlight. That was surprising, because it had been so dark, underground, and Vergil being hurt like he was made it seem all the gloomier; walking out into the light just felt odd, after all of that. It blinded him a moment, and he stumbled, tightening his grip on Vergil's limp form, because if he dropped him, and Vergil found out, Dante knew he'd never hear the end of it. He supposed for things like that, Vergil bitched just to hear himself bitch, because the bastard was in love with the sound of his own voice. Oh, it didn't matter that, as far as tonal quality went, he and Dante just weren't distinguishable from one another. No. It was because, as Vergil would say, the elder twin had /class/, and a way with words.

Except not, as far as Dante was concerned. He just sounded like a pretentious ass half the time. Okay, more like all of the time, but that wasn't the time to debate Vergil's use of his giant, nerdy-ass vocabulary.

It was when Dante was moving to prop Vergil up in the passenger seat that he noticed the red staining the back of Vergil's hair, as well. And, to be honest, with hair like theirs, as white as could be, he failed to understand how he'd missed it from the get go, but he supposed the mess that was Vergil's back had been distracting. Vergil was going to have one hell of a headache when he came to, which meant he would be in a fine mood. Really, Dante couldn't be more thrilled about that, at all.

Once Vergil was secure, Dante shut the passenger door and walked around to the front of the car, wiping the blood from his hands on his jeans. It was going to be a pain in the ass, getting Vergil back to their room without anyone seeing him, and seeing the mess he was in, and they were a long way away from the hotel, too. Dante hoped and prayed he remembered the way, because with everything, the last thing Dante needed to do was stop for directions.

He slid into the driver's seat, and glanced over at Vergil, slumped as he was, head leaned against the seat at a sickening angle, with him being completely slack, before flattening his mouth into a straight line and turned the key in the ignition, keeping silent. It wasn't like he had anyone to talk to, after all, with Vergil out like he was, and he didn't really feel like talking, anyway. That gnawing worry about why they were really on the roadtrip that had caused this whole mess was back, chewing at his spine with a vengence, and really, he didn't have time to give in to it then. Vergil's state of being was far more important, as weird as if felt, being the one to completely take charge. Usually it was the other way around, so handed that responsibility, Dante found himself a little unsure on his feet. If he did something wrong, he'd never hear the end of it. If he did everything right, Vergil would seethe and stew over it for all eternity, having to let his little brother assist him, even though there was no possible way Vergil could have walked out of that to begin with.

It was just weird, however, that everywhere they went, something like that happened. Neither one came away completely unscathed, and places where Dante figured it would be the last place on earth he'd have a run in with the paranormal always ended up throwing him some curve ball or another. It was Vergil's fault, of course, but at the moment, he didn't even have the heart to bitch at his brother's unconscious form, even if he'd never know it. Vergil would, by some intuition, know Dante was displeased, anyway, even if he wouldn't know the specifics, and that would give him more fuel to call him a big, fat, wibbling baby, which wasn't true. A wibbling baby wouldn't have been as steady as Dante was, or as calm and collected. So Vergil could blow him.

The drive back to the hotel seemed to take forever, in Dante's opinion, without Vergil's bitching to fill the silence over the engine. Proof, really, that even if Vergil pissed him off to no end, he did serve some purpose in Dante's life, even if it was just to distract him from worry and road hypnosis. But that was okay, because Vergil would be fine. He always was, and he always bitched at Dante after the fact, telling him he was nothing but a distraction in situations like the one back in the sewer. That was okay, though, too, because that bitching meant Vergil was at a hundred percent, which was all that mattered, in the long run.

At least that time they had a room on the bottom floor. That was something Dante was grateful for, when he finally found the hotel and stopped the car and climbed out, already getting the key card to their room out and ready before retrieving Vergil from the car. He was still heavy. Not like Dante had expected him to magically become as light as a feather or anything, but it didn't change the fact that the fat ass needed to go on a diet. He did. He could deny it all he wanted, but Dante would swear up and down his fucker of a brother had love handles.

And no one was around, either, to see him carry his bloody brother across the parking lot, to the door that would take them down a hallway to their room. Another small blessing. It was hard, manuevering enough to get Vergil through the door without banging him around in the frame, but Dante managed it somehow, though he himself took a couple of slams. That was fine, he was a big boy, and he could take the ache that started in his free shoulder after the fact. He wasn't the one with his back ripped open, after all.

He wasn't even aware of the blood dripping from Vergil's limp and dangling hands, as he made his way down the hall, to their room. A few seconds later, and he'd keyed inside, once again doing a little dance to get Vergil through the door no more scathed than he already was, before moving to drop him (in reality being very careful not to jar him further, but it soothed Dante's ego to think he just dropped him) on the bed, after kicking the door shut behind him. It was a fucking mess, no two ways around it.

However, once he'd done so, and dropped the key card on the bedside table, he went to work prying Vergil out of his jacket, and then his shirt, wrinkling his nose at just how heavy both were from blood, the edges of the rips in the backs of both growing stiff with the drying blood. A look at Vergil's back, however, confirmed it was healing, just as normal, as did a check of the back of his head. His skull felt a bit...Pliant, but it would seal itself back together in no time, as Dante would very well know, being the recipient of several head wounds just like it, and he would be as good as new in no time. Satisfied, Dante left him there on the bed to sleep it off, before picking his way to the couch, to catch a nap. It wasn't like either one had been getting much sleep, since leaving home, after all.

However, the illusions that all would be well was shattered when Dante flailed awake from a nightmare, almost knocking himself right off of the couch in the first place, before hearing a groan from the direction of the bed. He'd known Vergil would wake up with one bitch of a headache, hadn't he? It almost made him snicker, because it /served the fucker right/, it did, for making Dante worry, and then take care of his ass (as minimally as that had been, because with them, there wasn't a whole lot that could be done for wounds except to just let them heal).

He pulled himself upright, before starting for the bed, finding Vergil slumped against the headboard, a hand over his eyes. "Yo, Verg, you alright?"

"Fucking...What the fuck." The first clue that all was not well, though Dante, honestly, wasn't surprised at such language coming from Vergil after waking up from what had happened. It probably felt like an elephant had stamped all over his head in stiletto heels or something. The second clue came when the hand was dropped, and Vergil blinked around a moment, looking wide-eyed and baffled. Well, of course he was. He'd gotten knocked out in a sewer and woken up in their hotel room. Had it been Dante, he'd have been confused, too.

"The hell am I?" A moment was taken, as his eyes cleared and zeroed in on Dante, who'd stopped at the foot of the bed, waiting on him to start snapping at him. "...Who are you?"

"Uh huh, very funny, Vergil." It was rare, for Dante to use Vergil's full name, which should have told the elder twin Dante didn't find it very funny at all. That wasn't the route Dante had expected Vergil to pull. "I know your head hurts, but you keep that shit up, and I'll add to it by knocking your fucking teeth down your goddamn throat."

"I...What?" Vergil, honestly, was a damn good actor, because he seemed genuinely confused, until his brows drew downward into a frown. "Look, fucker, I dunno who the fuck you are, but if you want to start shit, we'll start shit, comprede, babydoll?" It was said as Vergil scooted to the edge of the bed and rose from it clunkily, making more noise than Dante supposed Vergil ever had. "Scrawny stick bitch like you can't be that much damn trouble."

"Fucking /excuse me/?" Just what the hell did Vergil think he was doing? "Okay, who the fuck are you and what did you do with my brother, 'cause I ain't laughing, Sparky." Really, a joke was a joke, but Vergil was taking shit too far. Instead of Vergil being Vergil, he was stealing Dante's shit? Oh, no, no, no. That wasn't going to fly with Dante at all. "I'm serious. Cut that shit out. You had your fun."

"...Brother?" It wasn't just the tone, or the words, that was off completely, Dante began to realize. It was the body language, as well. Vergil never stood less than ramrod straight, like he had a pole up his ass, but as Dante watched, a hand went to Vergil's head, his weight shifting one side as he slouched a bit. "The fuck do you mean, brother?" He glanced up again, catching his reflection in a mirror behind Dante, before plodding over toward it, still holding a hand to his head. His steps were clunky, completely out of character for the elder twin, and Dante just watched, a bit weirded out, as Vergil paused before the mirror and gave himself a once over, before turning back to Dante.

"Dude. You look like me!" Like it was some new and amazing discovery. However, it was the use of the word 'dude' that threw Dante off completely, and he approached slowly, waiting for Vergil to suddenly drop the act and punch Dante in the face or something.

"Uh...Yeah, Vergil. That tends to happen with identical twins? That whole...You know, coming from the same egg thing and sharing a womb for nine months together? You know, twins?" Make that very weirded out, as Vergil squinted slightly and leaned forward a bit, listening intently to everything Dante said.

"Twins, huh? ...What's my name, again? Uh. What the fuck's yours?"

"Vergil." It was beginning to dawn on Dante, what could have possibly happened, though he was more inclined to believe Vergil was just fucking around and jerking his chain. "I know you didn't forget your own goddamn name. You're too fucking in love with yourself to." It was answered with a blank stare, before Vergil reached up and ruffled his own hair, in exactly the manner Dante would have, and that was creepy. "Vergil. It's me, Dante. Just nod."

"Dante. Dante and Vergil? What, like the two fucking poet dudes?" Vergil made a noise of disdain, waving a hand at Dante, as though dismissing it as stupid. "Yeah, okay, that's pretty fucking queer. Anyway, so we're twins? That's pretty fucking awesome. I always wanted a twin. Who's older?"

"Uh...You are. By all of fifteen minutes, jackass. I mean it, stop fucking around." Dante, admittedly, hoped and prayed what he was thinking wasn't true. It was too much. Vergil was /stealing his shit/, and while he'd always wished they didn't snipe at each other as much as they did, that was just too weird, seeing Vergil act like...Dante himself. And that was what it was boiling down to. "You're weirding me out, dude, c'mon."

"Why? I mean, if we're brothers, what's to be weirded out for, huh? Especially twins, right? Don't tell me that whole thing about a psychic connection's all bullshit. That'll totally take the piss out of it." Vergil clopped a bit closer, as though looking for the differences between them, like he'd never seen them before. Which was funny, because Vergil never failed to point them out (and how Dante was inferior) at every given opportunity, and having him so close, when Dante could feel nothing malevolent or even just bitchy coming from him was creepy as hell. "We're not too shabby, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Oh, how Dante wished Vergil would drop the fucking act at that point. It wasn't funny; most of all, it wasn't funny because Vergil was nailing Dante so perfectly, right down to his own annoying mannerisms that he did just to piss Vergil off, like blow at the hair hanging in his face, or getting far too close for comfort because he knew it made Vergil's skin crawl, and his OCD to kick into overdrive because Dante was 'filthy'. "Dude, back up, seriously. Way too close for comfort."

Vergil let out a snort, folding his arms, but not moving back an inch. "Some twin you fucking are." He wasn't even pushing at his hair, Dante noticed, when he very well knew Vergil couldn't stand his hair hanging in his eyes. Which had always raised the question as to why Vergil didn't cut it shorter, but Vergil had always told Dante to mind his own business, the creepy fucking stalker. But that wasn't the point; Vergil's creepy ass behavior was. "So. What are we doing here?" Vergil paused, looking around the hotel room, frowning thoughtfully. "We on some kinda trip, or what."

"Uh, yeah, genius, it was your idea." What the fuck. No, seriously, what the fuck. "Remember? Leaving the shop? The shitty hotel in Mississippi? The skeleton in Georgia? Dopplegangers on the beach a little further up the coast?" Dante took the initiative and took a step back, only to be followed, and have the distance between them closed even more by Vergil. Way to get into someone else's personal bubble, seriously.

"Shop? Skeleton? What the fuck are you talking about?" Vergil leaned forward a bit, until the were almost touching, before backing off completely, clunking heavily to the mirror once more. "We're not on the lam or something are we? 'Cause that shit would not be kosher."

"Not unless you failed to tell me something before we left." Well, at least Dante had gotten out there, that he thought Vergil was up to something, even if Vergil didn't respond. It had made Dante's skin ripple, really, when Vergil had leaned close, and he rubbed at his own arms, concealing the fact that he was, in fact, hugging himself. "The skeleton, Vergil. The possessed one that attacked me, remember? And you did the whooshy ghost sword thingy that you won't show me how to do and shit? Yeah? Ringing a bell there, partner?"

It was met with a blank stare in the mirror, before Vergil broke out in a true, honest to God toothy grin. "Man, quit fucking with me. Be serious. Really, why the fuck are we here, then?"

That sealed it. All was not right. "Vergil. Brother. Please. I'm begging you here. Drop the fucking act and talk to me. I admit, okay? You got me freaked out. Happy? C'mon, you know you want to take a potshot at this. C'mon. /Please/." Vergil gave him a look in the mirror eerily like any of Dante's own unamused ones, before turning to face Dante once more. "Vergil. C'mon. Tell me how you'll be better than me, 'cause I'm too fucking human. Please?" It was almost hopeful, really, the way Dante said it, taking a somewhat cautious step forward. "C'mon. I'm wibbling over here. Tell me how I'm the worst excuse for a nephilim you've ever seen."

"You some kinda masochist or some shit, dude?" Vergil leaned his weight, first to one hip, and then the other, folding his arms across his chest once more. "The fuck is a nephilim. I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Dent. I'm calling you Dent. You call me Verg, it's fair game."

Dante glanced up at the ceiling, asking for guidance, before returning his gaze to Vergil, still not wanting to believe it was serious, and just some act Vergil was pulling. "Only the thing you take the most pride in, you twat. You know, half-demons? Hello? I'm serious. Stop."

"Dude." Vergil went wide-eyed, before leaning close once more. "No shit? Half demons? For real?" He looked thoughtful for a moment, before unfolding his arms and reaching out, gripping Dante by the shoulders so he couldn't pull away. And, just from that, it was obvious he didn't know his own strength, because that shit hurt. "Wow. That's fucking awesome, but listen. I dunno what it is that has you so damn antsy, 'cause you're acting like I'm about to rip out your liver and wear it as a hat or some shit, but chill. We're not in any trouble, right?"

"Not unless you didn't tell me." Dante tried to extract himself from Vergil's grip, but the fact was, without Vergil paying attention, he didn't have a chance in hell of doing so.

"Good! 'Cause, uh, I don't remember. But as long as I don't think we are, and you don't think we are, I say we break out the booze and call it a day. 'Cause, dude." Vergil nodded toward the bed, where the covers were stained with his blood. "Something tells me we don't need to call room service for that, anyway. So let's just...Relax. Or something. Have a little fun."

To be honest, Dante wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that. "Vergil. You don't drink." Unfortunately, that was the only thing he could think to say, and it was somewhat faint, at that, as he leaned back as far as he could in Vergil's grip.

"Says who. What kind of pussy don't drink?" Vergil let Dante go, and clopped back a few steps noisily, before looking down at his own feet, scowling at the boots there. "What kinda pansy-ass motherfucker wears shoes like these? Look at these fucking sissy ass pants. What the fuck. Who the fuck buys these things? Our mom or some shit?"

Dante paused there, rubbing at his shoulder where Vergil's fingers had dug in hard enough to leave bruises without him even realizing it. "Vergil. Our mother's dead. You buy your own clothes. You're the pansy here."

"Uh...Huh." It was obvious he didn't know what to say to the first part. And, like Dante would have, he completely ignored it, instead. "Yeah, well, not anymore. These things are fucking stupid looking." He stopped for a minute, eyeing Dante. "Gimmie something of yours."

"Huh." At that point, Dante had to admit maybe Vergil wasn't faking. Because Vergil wouldn't have said that, even for the sake of a joke. "You're fucking kidding. You gotta be."

"Uh, no?" He reached out, making grabby hands in the air. "Clothes. Now, please. So I don't like some stupid yuppie motherfucker or something. Help your big brother out like a good boy, huh?"

Dante, quite honestly, had no idea what to say. "Vergil, I dunno even know if they'd fit you, dude. I'm a lot skinnier than you." But he nodded to his bag anyway, taking another step backward as he did so. "Just...In there."

"See, and that's what a good brother does. Helps his poor, retardedly dressed twin out. You're totally a life saver, you know that?" It was said as Vergil toed off his own boots and dug around in Dante's bag at the same time, before letting out a whistle. "Now, see, this is what I'm talking about. Catch, little bro." He tossed the bottle of Jack Dante had hidden away in there, for emergency purposes, over his shoulder, and Dante scurried to catch it, because if there ever was an emergency situation that required alcohol, that would be it. "Now. We have booze, I have clothes, everything's good. We should, like, order pizza. Or, like, are we flat broke or what?"

It was at that point that Vergil started shimmying out of his pants, and Dante, trying to look as casual as possible, turned on his heel, making like he was working on the bottle to get it open. In truth, he was, but he certainly didn't want to see Vergil naked/, either. "Nah, you're the one with the cash. Hence you and them sissy-ass clothes." He was trying, really hard, to stay calm, because he didn't believe Vergil was faking anymore. He truly didn't, not when he glanced over his shoulder to find Vergil fastening /his worn pair of jeans before tugging on one of Dante's simple black tshirts. It was so...Weird, like truly looking in a mirror, because he and Vergil had taken great strides to make sure they looked anything but identical.

And yet there Vergil was; his hair down, in the same messy way as Dante's, wearing Dante's clothes (Dante was surprised they fit), looking for all the world like a Dante /clone/. It might have seemed silly, for an identical twin to be shocked at just how much alike he and his brother were, all things considered, but the fact was, Dante had never seen him as such, not even when they were children. Even then, their parents had instilled the concept of separate identities in them, even if they still worked as a unit, as twins were wont to do.

"Huh. Well, then! That totally works for me. Besides." It was said as he came out of nowhere behind Dante, plucking the bottle right out of his hands and making off with it as he clunked around to the couch. "Big brothers should totally take care of the little ones. C'mere." Vergil flopped down on one side of the couch and patted the other, leaving a still gawking Dante standing there a moment, before he shook his head and approached slowly and cautiously, like one would a wild animal. He was afraid Vergil would snap to at any minute, and, God forbid, accuse Dante of doing something dirty and wrong and that only Vergil would do. Like getting him drunk for incestuous reasons or something, which, as far as Dante was concerned, was a no-fly zone.

"Uh, Verg, I'm gonna be a downer and say this really ain't the best of ideas." But once he was close enough, he found himself in Vergil's grip (it really sucked when the idiot had no idea how strong he was), and Vergil tugged him onto the couch next to him, damn near ripping his arm off, to hear Dante tell it. He flailed and set himself to rights, scooting to the far end of the couch away from Vergil, because really: He did not want to be there when Vergil straightened out of it, because oh, he would, of that Dante had no doubts, because that was just the way his luck ran, and he knew Vergil would be pissed as hell when he did so, and blame Dante for everything.

That was always the way it went.

"Y'know what? You're damn uptight. Here." The bottle was thrust into Dante's hands, with a nod. "You need to loosen up, man, stop acting like I'm gonna eat your face off or some shit, alright? Seriously." And Dante, honestly, could do nothing but take it, considering that was his emergency bottle and he didn't want to see it go to waste or anything. But of course he was acting like Vergil was going to eat his face off, because /he would when he regained his goddamn senses/. And, oh, Dante was going to hurt for it, he just knew it.

"Dude. In the bubble again." Sad, really, that that was all Dante had to say on any of it, though. Because, really, Vergil was entirely too close for comfort. And short of kicking him away, that was the nicest way Dante had to get him to back the fuck off. "Seriously, personal space. You're totally trashing that barrier."

"Oh, shut up." It was said as Vergil slapped Dante lightly in the forehead, and though, while that wasn't nearly as hard as it normally would have been, at least the action itself was familiar. "Drink up and stop being such a tight ass, man. Or don't you know how to have fun? What, you scared you gonna get cooties or something 'cause I touched you?" It ended with a snort, as Vergil leaned closer, practically looming over Dante, and that was a situation he never wanted to be in, Vergil in his right mind or not.

"Probably 'cause you do have cooties." Dante brought up a knee, moving to lever Vergil away to give himself a little breathing room, wondering if, as he took a swallow from the bottle, drinking was such a good idea, given the circumstances. But he was /going to stay calm/. That was the most important thing. He just had to remember that Vergil wasn't himself at that moment, and he had to be /patient/, no matter how fucking irritating and clingy the bastard was being. Even if the entire situation was Vergil's fault to begin with.

"Besides," he said, pushing Vergil further away, "you might wanna back up, before I get the wrong idea, you dig?"

Unfortunately for Dante, however, it seemed as though Vergil took that entirely the wrong way. Dante, obviously, hadn't meant that as an invitation, but oh, Vergil seemed to take it as one, and Dante found himself in a precarious position, his knee pushed aside to make room for Vergil, right there between his thighs. No, definitely not something he'd been expecting to happen, though it just figured that Vergil was dirty and wrong even when he was out of his head.

"Dude." It was said as Vergil braced himself on the arm of the couch with his arms, just over Dante by no more than a foot, and really, that was just too damn close. His arms, unfortunately, were pinned between them, where he still clutched the bottle like a life-preserver, and prayed silently to any and everything good and benevolent to get his brother off of him before he had to hurt him. He didn't want to do that, but he would, by God, if he had to. He would.

Okay, sure. Dante was a little panicked. Who wouldn't be? But he was looking for an opening to get Vergil off/. If his arms had been free, he could have gone for his guns, which were on the coffee table to one side of them, and pistol-whipped the fucker into oblivion, and hope that was enough to make Vergil /right (or as right as Vergil had ever been) again.

His eyes darted, once, in that direction, and Vergil's own followed, before he let out a low whistle. "And see, I think there's a whole lot you're not telling me, bro."

Dante squirmed, trying to get a foot up to prop against Vergil's thigh to push off of, only to have Vergil release the arm of the couch and shift one hand to brace against Dante's chest (and that shit hurt), and one to hold him still. It made the panic worse, but his voice was remarkably level, as was his gaze, when he met Vergil's eyes. It wasn't his brother. Maybe...Hell, even if everything that had happened hadn't, that still wasn't his brother.

"I know about as much as you do right now." He took a breath, still searching without being obvious for an exit. "You never tell me a damn thing, you know that? Drag me here, drag me there, get me in all kinds of demonic shit I want no part of, and now look. Look what's done happened." He shifted, finding his arms free, and moved to put the bottle aside on the floor for safe-keeping, getting ready to make his move. He'd just clobber the shit out of Vergil. It would hopefully knock him out, and then Dante could figure out what to do next, though tying Vergil up for a while was definitely in the plan.

"Blah blah blah, are you always such a goddamn stiff?" Not exactly the answer that Dante had expected, even if it was something along the lines he himself would say. It was followed with a snort, before Vergil bent over him again, the front of his hair barely brushing at Dante's nose. And he made a promise, right then and there, he was never going to physically harass Vergil again, if the current mess was ever resolved. He wouldn't! He'd be a good boy and keep his hands to himself and not antagonize, because this was not fun.

Dante tried to pull back, but trapped there between the couch and Vergil as he was, there was just nowhere to go. He couldn't lean back, he couldn't move forward, and his wrists were in Vergil's monkey-like grip, and the fucker was too damn strong for his own good. Yes, he was panicking, because things were...Well, they were taking a turn for the worst, and with him like he was, Dante had no chance at all to fight it.

He visibly cringed when Vergil leant down, Vergil's cheek brushing his own. "You need to learn to loosen up, you know that? There's no secrets between twins. Always heard there weren't any taboos, either." It was ended with a soft, low laugh that was anything but comforting, as far as Dante was concerned, and he felt his teeth clench, as he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Vergil's tongue swipe up the side of his face. He was never going to do that for laughs again, either, because that was violating. Dante would be the first to admit it.

There wasn't any hiding the fact that he was struggling to get away, squirming as he was to find a way to get out from under Vergil, because no, that was wrong. And Vergil's laugh just pissed him off. He snarled and started prying his hands from where Vergil had trapped them against his chest, bearing his fangs and feeling the shift from blue and white to red and black in his eyes. Every time before that, he'd never been aware of it, but now? Oh, now he was.

And it worked, to a degree, as Vergil took notice and jerked back, as though he'd never seen an eye trigger before. "What the fuck," was all the other twin gave, as he backpeddled a moment, before leaning forward once again, giving his own snarl. "Please." It was said with Vergil's own flash of fang, as though he'd just become aware of them. "You think something like that's gonna scare me? Think again, little bro."

What Dante didn't realize was the fact that, unbeknownst to him, and to Vergil, with all the high-strung, restrained emotion and panic floating around, they were simply feeding one another's demonic sides. It was what was making Dante so angry, and Vergil so determined to force Dante to loosen up, if he wouldn't do so willingly. It didn't help that, unwittingly, that blow to the head was pulling on the darker, more subconscious impulses Vergil's own demonic side had, possibly even without Vergil's knowledge when he was in a stable frame of mind. Those needs to dominate and control the situation, especially where Dante was concerned.

Vergil's other hand released where he'd been holding Dante down by his hip, and Dante found himself slammed back hard against the arm of the couch, his skull cracking against it in an amazingly painful way, enough to get his vision to fuzz over, before his hands were pinned there next to it, wrists bent back so that he couldn't flex his hands at all. He swore to God Vergil was trying to break them, and that would suck.

But his legs were free, and that was all that mattered.

Which was why he brought one up, his boot digging into Vergil's thigh with no concern at all with how bad it had to hurt. Of course not. His brother was trying to molest him, and that meant all nice bets were fucking off. He was going to kick that fucker in the face. He was, and he snarled viciously, bringing back his foot to do just that.

Vergil might have been the really flexible one, but Dante wasn't all that far behind, after all.

It was a very amused laugh that Vergil gave, which, if Dante took the time to think about it, reminded him a hell of a lot like Vergil in his right mind: Laughing at Dante because he was trying to fight Vergil, or something. Well, damn straight he was. His manly virtue was in danger from his /own brother/.

But that was fine, because Dante let his kick fly free, for sure he was going to get Vergil right in his big damn forehead, but then...Dante forgot that Vergil was fast. Even like that, or especially so because he had no control over it, he was fast, and Dante found his ankle caught and yanked back, trying to free himself. Of course, the arm that had been let go for that immediately darted for one of his guns, and he grabbed Ebony by the barrel as he was yanked forward by his leg. It was draped over Vergil's shoulder, and if that didn't set off major alarm bells, nothing would, and he struggled to pull himself upright, determined that if he had to pop his other shoulder out of socket to do it, he would.

His leg was caught, and so was his arm, and he let out a noise of frustration, because the whole thing was really starting to suck a whole lot. "Go to fucking hell, Vergil." His eyes were still that unnatural black and red, growing ever deeper in those colors, and he wasn't aware of it, but dark, veiny lines had started up his neck and across his hands. A sure sign he was truly, honestly pissed off.

But what was he supposed to do? Vergil was a fucking monster, when it came to strength, and with him being so...Out of his goddamn head, Dante was pretty much screwed. Literally and figuratively, it looked like, and he couldn't say he was too fond of that idea.

But Vergil, obviously, was through playing around, and moved forward to pin Dante's squirmy body down with his own. It wasn't very awesome, either, because Dante was stuck anyway, with his leg over Vergil's shoulder, though he was flailing it as best he could, to try and at least get one hit in with his heel; if not Vergil's head, than maybe his shoulder or ribs. And Vergil was heavy, too. Hadn't Dante always said he was a fatass? It was a struggle just to breathe, being bent like that with the added pressure of Vergil's weight.

But he literally saw red, when Vergil leaned closer and gave him a wide, fangy, feral grin before he ducked closer, running his tongue across Dante's lips. That did it. It did. And he guaranteed, when Vergil moved in for the 'kill', so to speak, he didn't expect Dante to be so receptive to it. Of course, the minute they were close enough, Dante lashed out, digging his teeth into Vergil's lip and biting down, hard enough to draw blood, before yanking backward. He was determined he was going to make Vergil /hurt/, because kidding around and violation were two very different things.

Vergil gave a growl, and pulled backward, making the mistake of letting the arm holding Ebony go. It was obvious he was going to retaliate, and Dante braced himself for it, all the while gripping the barrel tight, before bringing it down, not sparing Vergil any of Dante's strength, on Vergil's temple.

It hurt, it was obvious, with the way Vergil lurched and stopped tugging back, and Dante released Vergil's lip before scrambling in that moment his brother was slack, to plant the foot that had ineffectually hanging over Vergil's shoulder right in Vergil's face, knocking him off. He supposed that was the good thing there: Vergil didn't have the skills at the moment to back up that strength, whereas Dante did, and he wasn't afraid to use them.

As far as Dante saw it, there was only one way to fix that situation, as he scrambled from the couch and backward, as Vergil started to push himself upright again, still dazed.

"You little twat." Vergil spat to the side, to get the blood from his cut lip out of his mouth, before reaching up to finger his temple lightly, where Dante had hit him with the butt of the gun. "What the fuck."

"Yeah? Say goodnight." Dante didn't hesitate, as he aimed and pulled the trigger. He never even heard the gun go off, and barely felt the jolt of it in his head, before he saw the bullet collide with Vergil's forehead, almost in slow motion. The bloodsplatter it left behind, as it tore out the back, left little to the imagination, as far as what kind of damage it had done, and Vergil sat there a moment, half-crouched where he'd been preparing to stand, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he tumbled from the couch, hitting the floor with a thud.

Dante thanked his lucky stars their side of the hotel was practically deserted and that is was the middle of the day. Had it been during the evening, the cops would have been crawling the place faster than Dante could have gotten them out.

Then next hour or so was spent tying Vergil up with the rope in the trunk of the car and cleaning up the hotel room, because God forbid room service find the mess they'd made when they left in the morning. And he was convinced they would be leaving, and that Vergil would be fine. If head trauma had brought on the problem, head trauma would fix it. That was always how it worked on tv, anyway, so it was worth a shot.

And when the cleaning was done, Dante sat on the end of the couch, opposite to where he'd propped Vergil against the wall, guns in his lap. His right was closed around Ivory, fingers twitching over it, as he watched every twitch Vergil gave, ready to plug the bastard again if he woke up pawsy.

Half an hour after he'd started his watch, Vergil stirred for the first time in a significant way, giving a noise of both pain and disgruntlement, before he blinked himself awake and tried to move his arms, only to find them pinned to his sides. He said nothing, but his expression gave away the pissed off confusion he felt at the situation, before he looked up, finding himself staring down the barrel of the lighter colored gun, Dante's red and black eyes just beyond. "...Dante."

And Dante didn't hesitate. "What are the Unsacred Texts of the Koton. Tell me, Vergil. Or I swear to God, I'll give you a new goddamn breathing hole." He had to make sure it was Vergil, otherwise he would, in fact, shoot him again. There was no way in Hell he was going through that again.

"A fucking hoax. And if you don't untie me, when I do get loose - and make no mistake, wibbler, I will - I am going to take that gun, and I am going to shove it /up your ass/." Vergil's own eyes darkened to match Dante's own, but it was something he'd done on purpose. Dante knew that much, because Vergil just...Had better control over that part of himself.

"No sir. We're not done here. Name three magical texts. No using the Necronomicon because that shit doesn't count." Dante slid his finger over the trigger, because it hadn't been there before. And he made sure Vergil saw it. "Now, Vergil."

Vergil gave an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes even though the action caused his head to throb. "Oh, Dante." It was patronizing, the tone of his voice. "You do realize if you shoot me, I won't /die/, correct?"

"Yeah." Dante's finger twitched there. "But it'll hurt like a bitch."

"Untie me now, Dante, or I'll do it myself." For emphasis, a shard of icy, cerulean blue appeared over Vergil's head, forming itself into a transparent sword. Dante wavered a moment, eyeing the phantom sword, before lowering Ivory to the coffee table before him, moving to slowly deposit Ebony next to it.

"You're not gonna...Try to rape me, are you?" It was said as he moved to stand, and Vergil's answering look told him exactly what Vergil thought about how retarded Dante was being. "I mean it."

"Yes, Dante. Oh, woe, you know how I lust for you. Fucking retard, /untie me/." Vergil squirmed, trying to work his hands to the knots holding him. "I have no idea what you're babbling about, but rest assured I wouldn't touch you through a rubber glove. /Now/."

Dante wasn't entirely convinced, but something just...Felt different. And that was the only reason he moved to comply. Well, that and the fact that they couldn't leave the hotel with Vergil tied up like that. He didn't want to have to explain that one to the cops, or anybody, ever. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

But when he reached Vergil and yanked the knife he carried in his boot out to start sawing through the ropes (he could tie awesome knots, but he'd be damned if he could undo them), he made sure he was leaning away from Vergil, just in case. He didn't want to get pulled in and molested again.

"So, tell me, wibbler. Just why am I tied up?" Vergil glanced over his shoulder, to where he could see Dante as he worked. There was annoyance there, but Dante didn't care. It had been for Vergil's own good.

"Uh, let's not talk about that right now." Seriously. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash Vergil's trying to rape him. The knife slipped through the last few strands of the rope, and Vergil's arms came free, and Dante skittered backward, just in case.

Vergil started for his feet, rubbing at his wrists, before it clicked what he was wearing, and he picked at the shirt a moment, before glancing up at Dante, one eyebrow sharply arched.

"Uh, yeah, it's best not ask."

"...Agreed." If anything, at least Vergil wasn't pushing it. "The ghoul? I assume it's either dead or back in hiding now, yes?"

"I got it." It was said as Dante kept backing away, up until his back hit the wide window looking out onto the beach. Vergil nodded, more to himself than anything, before making his way over to their bags.

"Fine. I'm going to go shower and get out of these disgusting, shaggy mutt tainted clothes. Be a good boy and see about dinner." With that, he gathered up his things and started for the bathroom, leaving Dante to breathe a sigh of relief.

He never thought he'd say it, but he'd definitely take his Vergil over what had happened any day.

It had happened so fast, Dante had only had time to react and fire, and, admittedly, his aim had been a bit off. But he'd taken the fucking ghoul out, by God, and but good. True enough, he wouldn't have, had it not gotten the jump on Vergil and taken him down, and as he stood there, barrel still smoking, arm trembling a bit, that should have been his first priority, instead of standing there, gaping at the spot in the air where it had stood. Vergil was down, and out for the count, it seemed, but in the end, he could only blame himself, when he came to. It had been his idea to search underneath the city of St. Augustine, and Dante had been more than reluctant, still shaken from what had happened back in Georgia. But then, a good little brother didn't let his big brother go alone, so he'd traipsed along after, and that was what it got them.

Dante picked his way over the bones littering the ground, making his way to where Vergil was slumped against the sewer wall, the streak of blood that had been left behind after Vergil had hit it and slid down not comforting him in the slightest. But he was breathing, his chest rising and falling with a regular, if slow, rhythm, Dante noticed, as he reached him, putting the fingertips of one hand against his neck to feel his pulse as he used the other arm to lift him away from the wall.

His back was a mass of deep, angry, and bloody clawmarks, where he'd gotten hit before being tossed, and Dante visibly winced, glad Vergil wasn't conscious to see it. For all that he bitched, that was his brother that was hurt, and it pissed him off that he didn't know how to resurrect the fucker to kill it again, because it had made Vergil bleed. Dante was the only one allowed to do that. But it was going to be fine; Vergil was insanely tough, and Dante knew that, and he'd heal (in fact, at the ends of each mark, it already looked as though his flesh was stitching itself back together at preternatural speed), and he'd be pissed as hell that he'd had a jacket and shirt ruined. Vergil was weird like that. Half the time Dante wondered if it was some kind of cover up for looking weak, but he never pondered on that for too long.

"Dammit, Vergil, now I gotta haul your fat ass out of here." But it was said without venom as he dropped his hand from Vergil's throat, shifting around to get a good grip on him and get Vergil's limp form over a shoulder in a fireman's carry, before straightening to his feet. "I'm putting your fat ass on a diet." It was said with a huff, because really, Vergil wasn't all that light, and as dead weight he was insanely heavy, and insanely cumbersome. Dante supposed it had a lot to do with them being the same height, or some other such nonesense. He didn't much care. As far as he was concerned, getting Vergil back to their room and seeing what he could do for the marks on his back was first priority. Everything else, including his own bitching, could wait.

It didn't mean he didn't bitch in his head, as he slogged through the sewers, back to the point they'd entered at. It was outside of town, on an abandoned stretch of lonely road facing the ocean, and not much else, and unearthly quiet when Dante finally reached the outside again, into the sunlight. That was surprising, because it had been so dark, underground, and Vergil being hurt like he was made it seem all the gloomier; walking out into the light just felt odd, after all of that. It blinded him a moment, and he stumbled, tightening his grip on Vergil's limp form, because if he dropped him, and Vergil found out, Dante knew he'd never hear the end of it. He supposed for things like that, Vergil bitched just to hear himself bitch, because the bastard was in love with the sound of his own voice. Oh, it didn't matter that, as far as tonal quality went, he and Dante just weren't distinguishable from one another. No. It was because, as Vergil would say, the elder twin had /class/, and a way with words.

Except not, as far as Dante was concerned. He just sounded like a pretentious ass half the time. Okay, more like all of the time, but that wasn't the time to debate Vergil's use of his giant, nerdy-ass vocabulary.

It was when Dante was moving to prop Vergil up in the passenger seat that he noticed the red staining the back of Vergil's hair, as well. And, to be honest, with hair like theirs, as white as could be, he failed to understand how he'd missed it from the get go, but he supposed the mess that was Vergil's back had been distracting. Vergil was going to have one hell of a headache when he came to, which meant he would be in a fine mood. Really, Dante couldn't be more thrilled about that, at all.

Once Vergil was secure, Dante shut the passenger door and walked around to the front of the car, wiping the blood from his hands on his jeans. It was going to be a pain in the ass, getting Vergil back to their room without anyone seeing him, and seeing the mess he was in, and they were a long way away from the hotel, too. Dante hoped and prayed he remembered the way, because with everything, the last thing Dante needed to do was stop for directions.

He slid into the driver's seat, and glanced over at Vergil, slumped as he was, head leaned against the seat at a sickening angle, with him being completely slack, before flattening his mouth into a straight line and turned the key in the ignition, keeping silent. It wasn't like he had anyone to talk to, after all, with Vergil out like he was, and he didn't really feel like talking, anyway. That gnawing worry about why they were really on the roadtrip that had caused this whole mess was back, chewing at his spine with a vengence, and really, he didn't have time to give in to it then. Vergil's state of being was far more important, as weird as if felt, being the one to completely take charge. Usually it was the other way around, so handed that responsibility, Dante found himself a little unsure on his feet. If he did something wrong, he'd never hear the end of it. If he did everything right, Vergil would seethe and stew over it for all eternity, having to let his little brother assist him, even though there was no possible way Vergil could have walked out of that to begin with.

It was just weird, however, that everywhere they went, something like that happened. Neither one came away completely unscathed, and places where Dante figured it would be the last place on earth he'd have a run in with the paranormal always ended up throwing him some curve ball or another. It was Vergil's fault, of course, but at the moment, he didn't even have the heart to bitch at his brother's unconscious form, even if he'd never know it. Vergil would, by some intuition, know Dante was displeased, anyway, even if he wouldn't know the specifics, and that would give him more fuel to call him a big, fat, wibbling baby, which wasn't true. A wibbling baby wouldn't have been as steady as Dante was, or as calm and collected. So Vergil could blow him.

The drive back to the hotel seemed to take forever, in Dante's opinion, without Vergil's bitching to fill the silence over the engine. Proof, really, that even if Vergil pissed him off to no end, he did serve some purpose in Dante's life, even if it was just to distract him from worry and road hypnosis. But that was okay, because Vergil would be fine. He always was, and he always bitched at Dante after the fact, telling him he was nothing but a distraction in situations like the one back in the sewer. That was okay, though, too, because that bitching meant Vergil was at a hundred percent, which was all that mattered, in the long run.

At least that time they had a room on the bottom floor. That was something Dante was grateful for, when he finally found the hotel and stopped the car and climbed out, already getting the key card to their room out and ready before retrieving Vergil from the car. He was still heavy. Not like Dante had expected him to magically become as light as a feather or anything, but it didn't change the fact that the fat ass needed to go on a diet. He did. He could deny it all he wanted, but Dante would swear up and down his fucker of a brother had love handles.

And no one was around, either, to see him carry his bloody brother across the parking lot, to the door that would take them down a hallway to their room. Another small blessing. It was hard, manuevering enough to get Vergil through the door without banging him around in the frame, but Dante managed it somehow, though he himself took a couple of slams. That was fine, he was a big boy, and he could take the ache that started in his free shoulder after the fact. He wasn't the one with his back ripped open, after all.

He wasn't even aware of the blood dripping from Vergil's limp and dangling hands, as he made his way down the hall, to their room. A few seconds later, and he'd keyed inside, once again doing a little dance to get Vergil through the door no more scathed than he already was, before moving to drop him (in reality being very careful not to jar him further, but it soothed Dante's ego to think he just dropped him) on the bed, after kicking the door shut behind him. It was a fucking mess, no two ways around it.

However, once he'd done so, and dropped the key card on the bedside table, he went to work prying Vergil out of his jacket, and then his shirt, wrinkling his nose at just how heavy both were from blood, the edges of the rips in the backs of both growing stiff with the drying blood. A look at Vergil's back, however, confirmed it was healing, just as normal, as did a check of the back of his head. His skull felt a bit...Pliant, but it would seal itself back together in no time, as Dante would very well know, being the recipient of several head wounds just like it, and he would be as good as new in no time. Satisfied, Dante left him there on the bed to sleep it off, before picking his way to the couch, to catch a nap. It wasn't like either one had been getting much sleep, since leaving home, after all.

However, the illusions that all would be well was shattered when Dante flailed awake from a nightmare, almost knocking himself right off of the couch in the first place, before hearing a groan from the direction of the bed. He'd known Vergil would wake up with one bitch of a headache, hadn't he? It almost made him snicker, because it /served the fucker right/, it did, for making Dante worry, and then take care of his ass (as minimally as that had been, because with them, there wasn't a whole lot that could be done for wounds except to just let them heal).

He pulled himself upright, before starting for the bed, finding Vergil slumped against the headboard, a hand over his eyes. "Yo, Verg, you alright?"

"Fucking...What the fuck." The first clue that all was not well, though Dante, honestly, wasn't surprised at such language coming from Vergil after waking up from what had happened. It probably felt like an elephant had stamped all over his head in stiletto heels or something. The second clue came when the hand was dropped, and Vergil blinked around a moment, looking wide-eyed and baffled. Well, of course he was. He'd gotten knocked out in a sewer and woken up in their hotel room. Had it been Dante, he'd have been confused, too.

"The hell am I?" A moment was taken, as his eyes cleared and zeroed in on Dante, who'd stopped at the foot of the bed, waiting on him to start snapping at him. "...Who are you?"

"Uh huh, very funny, Vergil." It was rare, for Dante to use Vergil's full name, which should have told the elder twin Dante didn't find it very funny at all. That wasn't the route Dante had expected Vergil to pull. "I know your head hurts, but you keep that shit up, and I'll add to it by knocking your fucking teeth down your goddamn throat."

"I...What?" Vergil, honestly, was a damn good actor, because he seemed genuinely confused, until his brows drew downward into a frown. "Look, fucker, I dunno who the fuck you are, but if you want to start shit, we'll start shit, comprede, babydoll?" It was said as Vergil scooted to the edge of the bed and rose from it clunkily, making more noise than Dante supposed Vergil ever had. "Scrawny stick bitch like you can't be that much damn trouble."

"Fucking /excuse me/?" Just what the hell did Vergil think he was doing? "Okay, who the fuck are you and what did you do with my brother, 'cause I ain't laughing, Sparky." Really, a joke was a joke, but Vergil was taking shit too far. Instead of Vergil being Vergil, he was stealing Dante's shit? Oh, no, no, no. That wasn't going to fly with Dante at all. "I'm serious. Cut that shit out. You had your fun."

"...Brother?" It wasn't just the tone, or the words, that was off completely, Dante began to realize. It was the body language, as well. Vergil never stood less than ramrod straight, like he had a pole up his ass, but as Dante watched, a hand went to Vergil's head, his weight shifting one side as he slouched a bit. "The fuck do you mean, brother?" He glanced up again, catching his reflection in a mirror behind Dante, before plodding over toward it, still holding a hand to his head. His steps were clunky, completely out of character for the elder twin, and Dante just watched, a bit weirded out, as Vergil paused before the mirror and gave himself a once over, before turning back to Dante.

"Dude. You look like me!" Like it was some new and amazing discovery. However, it was the use of the word 'dude' that threw Dante off completely, and he approached slowly, waiting for Vergil to suddenly drop the act and punch Dante in the face or something.

"Uh...Yeah, Vergil. That tends to happen with identical twins? That whole...You know, coming from the same egg thing and sharing a womb for nine months together? You know, twins?" Make that very weirded out, as Vergil squinted slightly and leaned forward a bit, listening intently to everything Dante said.

"Twins, huh? ...What's my name, again? Uh. What the fuck's yours?"

"Vergil." It was beginning to dawn on Dante, what could have possibly happened, though he was more inclined to believe Vergil was just fucking around and jerking his chain. "I know you didn't forget your own goddamn name. You're too fucking in love with yourself to." It was answered with a blank stare, before Vergil reached up and ruffled his own hair, in exactly the manner Dante would have, and that was creepy. "Vergil. It's me, Dante. Just nod."

"Dante. Dante and Vergil? What, like the two fucking poet dudes?" Vergil made a noise of disdain, waving a hand at Dante, as though dismissing it as stupid. "Yeah, okay, that's pretty fucking queer. Anyway, so we're twins? That's pretty fucking awesome. I always wanted a twin. Who's older?"

"Uh...You are. By all of fifteen minutes, jackass. I mean it, stop fucking around." Dante, admittedly, hoped and prayed what he was thinking wasn't true. It was too much. Vergil was /stealing his shit/, and while he'd always wished they didn't snipe at each other as much as they did, that was just too weird, seeing Vergil act like...Dante himself. And that was what it was boiling down to. "You're weirding me out, dude, c'mon."

"Why? I mean, if we're brothers, what's to be weirded out for, huh? Especially twins, right? Don't tell me that whole thing about a psychic connection's all bullshit. That'll totally take the piss out of it." Vergil clopped a bit closer, as though looking for the differences between them, like he'd never seen them before. Which was funny, because Vergil never failed to point them out (and how Dante was inferior) at every given opportunity, and having him so close, when Dante could feel nothing malevolent or even just bitchy coming from him was creepy as hell. "We're not too shabby, huh?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Oh, how Dante wished Vergil would drop the fucking act at that point. It wasn't funny; most of all, it wasn't funny because Vergil was nailing Dante so perfectly, right down to his own annoying mannerisms that he did just to piss Vergil off, like blow at the hair hanging in his face, or getting far too close for comfort because he knew it made Vergil's skin crawl, and his OCD to kick into overdrive because Dante was 'filthy'. "Dude, back up, seriously. Way too close for comfort."

Vergil let out a snort, folding his arms, but not moving back an inch. "Some twin you fucking are." He wasn't even pushing at his hair, Dante noticed, when he very well knew Vergil couldn't stand his hair hanging in his eyes. Which had always raised the question as to why Vergil didn't cut it shorter, but Vergil had always told Dante to mind his own business, the creepy fucking stalker. But that wasn't the point; Vergil's creepy ass behavior was. "So. What are we doing here?" Vergil paused, looking around the hotel room, frowning thoughtfully. "We on some kinda trip, or what."

"Uh, yeah, genius, it was your idea." What the fuck. No, seriously, what the fuck. "Remember? Leaving the shop? The shitty hotel in Mississippi? The skeleton in Georgia? Dopplegangers on the beach a little further up the coast?" Dante took the initiative and took a step back, only to be followed, and have the distance between them closed even more by Vergil. Way to get into someone else's personal bubble, seriously.

"Shop? Skeleton? What the fuck are you talking about?" Vergil leaned forward a bit, until the were almost touching, before backing off completely, clunking heavily to the mirror once more. "We're not on the lam or something are we? 'Cause that shit would not be kosher."

"Not unless you failed to tell me something before we left." Well, at least Dante had gotten out there, that he thought Vergil was up to something, even if Vergil didn't respond. It had made Dante's skin ripple, really, when Vergil had leaned close, and he rubbed at his own arms, concealing the fact that he was, in fact, hugging himself. "The skeleton, Vergil. The possessed one that attacked me, remember? And you did the whooshy ghost sword thingy that you won't show me how to do and shit? Yeah? Ringing a bell there, partner?"

It was met with a blank stare in the mirror, before Vergil broke out in a true, honest to God toothy grin. "Man, quit fucking with me. Be serious. Really, why the fuck are we here, then?"

That sealed it. All was not right. "Vergil. Brother. Please. I'm begging you here. Drop the fucking act and talk to me. I admit, okay? You got me freaked out. Happy? C'mon, you know you want to take a potshot at this. C'mon. /Please/." Vergil gave him a look in the mirror eerily like any of Dante's own unamused ones, before turning to face Dante once more. "Vergil. C'mon. Tell me how you'll be better than me, 'cause I'm too fucking human. Please?" It was almost hopeful, really, the way Dante said it, taking a somewhat cautious step forward. "C'mon. I'm wibbling over here. Tell me how I'm the worst excuse for a nephilim you've ever seen."

"You some kinda masochist or some shit, dude?" Vergil leaned his weight, first to one hip, and then the other, folding his arms across his chest once more. "The fuck is a nephilim. I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Dent. I'm calling you Dent. You call me Verg, it's fair game."

Dante glanced up at the ceiling, asking for guidance, before returning his gaze to Vergil, still not wanting to believe it was serious, and just some act Vergil was pulling. "Only the thing you take the most pride in, you twat. You know, half-demons? Hello? I'm serious. Stop."

"Dude." Vergil went wide-eyed, before leaning close once more. "No shit? Half demons? For real?" He looked thoughtful for a moment, before unfolding his arms and reaching out, gripping Dante by the shoulders so he couldn't pull away. And, just from that, it was obvious he didn't know his own strength, because that shit hurt. "Wow. That's fucking awesome, but listen. I dunno what it is that has you so damn antsy, 'cause you're acting like I'm about to rip out your liver and wear it as a hat or some shit, but chill. We're not in any trouble, right?"

"Not unless you didn't tell me." Dante tried to extract himself from Vergil's grip, but the fact was, without Vergil paying attention, he didn't have a chance in hell of doing so.

"Good! 'Cause, uh, I don't remember. But as long as I don't think we are, and you don't think we are, I say we break out the booze and call it a day. 'Cause, dude." Vergil nodded toward the bed, where the covers were stained with his blood. "Something tells me we don't need to call room service for that, anyway. So let's just...Relax. Or something. Have a little fun."

To be honest, Dante wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that. "Vergil. You don't drink." Unfortunately, that was the only thing he could think to say, and it was somewhat faint, at that, as he leaned back as far as he could in Vergil's grip.

"Says who. What kind of pussy don't drink?" Vergil let Dante go, and clopped back a few steps noisily, before looking down at his own feet, scowling at the boots there. "What kinda pansy-ass motherfucker wears shoes like these? Look at these fucking sissy ass pants. What the fuck. Who the fuck buys these things? Our mom or some shit?"

Dante paused there, rubbing at his shoulder where Vergil's fingers had dug in hard enough to leave bruises without him even realizing it. "Vergil. Our mother's dead. You buy your own clothes. You're the pansy here."

"Uh...Huh." It was obvious he didn't know what to say to the first part. And, like Dante would have, he completely ignored it, instead. "Yeah, well, not anymore. These things are fucking stupid looking." He stopped for a minute, eyeing Dante. "Gimmie something of yours."

"Huh." At that point, Dante had to admit maybe Vergil wasn't faking. Because Vergil wouldn't have said that, even for the sake of a joke. "You're fucking kidding. You gotta be."

"Uh, no?" He reached out, making grabby hands in the air. "Clothes. Now, please. So I don't like some stupid yuppie motherfucker or something. Help your big brother out like a good boy, huh?"

Dante, quite honestly, had no idea what to say. "Vergil, I dunno even know if they'd fit you, dude. I'm a lot skinnier than you." But he nodded to his bag anyway, taking another step backward as he did so. "Just...In there."

"See, and that's what a good brother does. Helps his poor, retardedly dressed twin out. You're totally a life saver, you know that?" It was said as Vergil toed off his own boots and dug around in Dante's bag at the same time, before letting out a whistle. "Now, see, this is what I'm talking about. Catch, little bro." He tossed the bottle of Jack Dante had hidden away in there, for emergency purposes, over his shoulder, and Dante scurried to catch it, because if there ever was an emergency situation that required alcohol, that would be it. "Now. We have booze, I have clothes, everything's good. We should, like, order pizza. Or, like, are we flat broke or what?"

It was at that point that Vergil started shimmying out of his pants, and Dante, trying to look as casual as possible, turned on his heel, making like he was working on the bottle to get it open. In truth, he was, but he certainly didn't want to see Vergil naked/, either. "Nah, you're the one with the cash. Hence you and them sissy-ass clothes." He was trying, really hard, to stay calm, because he didn't believe Vergil was faking anymore. He truly didn't, not when he glanced over his shoulder to find Vergil fastening /his worn pair of jeans before tugging on one of Dante's simple black tshirts. It was so...Weird, like truly looking in a mirror, because he and Vergil had taken great strides to make sure they looked anything but identical.

And yet there Vergil was; his hair down, in the same messy way as Dante's, wearing Dante's clothes (Dante was surprised they fit), looking for all the world like a Dante /clone/. It might have seemed silly, for an identical twin to be shocked at just how much alike he and his brother were, all things considered, but the fact was, Dante had never seen him as such, not even when they were children. Even then, their parents had instilled the concept of separate identities in them, even if they still worked as a unit, as twins were wont to do.

"Huh. Well, then! That totally works for me. Besides." It was said as he came out of nowhere behind Dante, plucking the bottle right out of his hands and making off with it as he clunked around to the couch. "Big brothers should totally take care of the little ones. C'mere." Vergil flopped down on one side of the couch and patted the other, leaving a still gawking Dante standing there a moment, before he shook his head and approached slowly and cautiously, like one would a wild animal. He was afraid Vergil would snap to at any minute, and, God forbid, accuse Dante of doing something dirty and wrong and that only Vergil would do. Like getting him drunk for incestuous reasons or something, which, as far as Dante was concerned, was a no-fly zone.

"Uh, Verg, I'm gonna be a downer and say this really ain't the best of ideas." But once he was close enough, he found himself in Vergil's grip (it really sucked when the idiot had no idea how strong he was), and Vergil tugged him onto the couch next to him, damn near ripping his arm off, to hear Dante tell it. He flailed and set himself to rights, scooting to the far end of the couch away from Vergil, because really: He did not want to be there when Vergil straightened out of it, because oh, he would, of that Dante had no doubts, because that was just the way his luck ran, and he knew Vergil would be pissed as hell when he did so, and blame Dante for everything.

That was always the way it went.

"Y'know what? You're damn uptight. Here." The bottle was thrust into Dante's hands, with a nod. "You need to loosen up, man, stop acting like I'm gonna eat your face off or some shit, alright? Seriously." And Dante, honestly, could do nothing but take it, considering that was his emergency bottle and he didn't want to see it go to waste or anything. But of course he was acting like Vergil was going to eat his face off, because /he would when he regained his goddamn senses/. And, oh, Dante was going to hurt for it, he just knew it.

"Dude. In the bubble again." Sad, really, that that was all Dante had to say on any of it, though. Because, really, Vergil was entirely too close for comfort. And short of kicking him away, that was the nicest way Dante had to get him to back the fuck off. "Seriously, personal space. You're totally trashing that barrier."

"Oh, shut up." It was said as Vergil slapped Dante lightly in the forehead, and though, while that wasn't nearly as hard as it normally would have been, at least the action itself was familiar. "Drink up and stop being such a tight ass, man. Or don't you know how to have fun? What, you scared you gonna get cooties or something 'cause I touched you?" It ended with a snort, as Vergil leaned closer, practically looming over Dante, and that was a situation he never wanted to be in, Vergil in his right mind or not.

"Probably 'cause you do have cooties." Dante brought up a knee, moving to lever Vergil away to give himself a little breathing room, wondering if, as he took a swallow from the bottle, drinking was such a good idea, given the circumstances. But he was /going to stay calm/. That was the most important thing. He just had to remember that Vergil wasn't himself at that moment, and he had to be /patient/, no matter how fucking irritating and clingy the bastard was being. Even if the entire situation was Vergil's fault to begin with.

"Besides," he said, pushing Vergil further away, "you might wanna back up, before I get the wrong idea, you dig?"

Unfortunately for Dante, however, it seemed as though Vergil took that entirely the wrong way. Dante, obviously, hadn't meant that as an invitation, but oh, Vergil seemed to take it as one, and Dante found himself in a precarious position, his knee pushed aside to make room for Vergil, right there between his thighs. No, definitely not something he'd been expecting to happen, though it just figured that Vergil was dirty and wrong even when he was out of his head.

"Dude." It was said as Vergil braced himself on the arm of the couch with his arms, just over Dante by no more than a foot, and really, that was just too damn close. His arms, unfortunately, were pinned between them, where he still clutched the bottle like a life-preserver, and prayed silently to any and everything good and benevolent to get his brother off of him before he had to hurt him. He didn't want to do that, but he would, by God, if he had to. He would.

Okay, sure. Dante was a little panicked. Who wouldn't be? But he was looking for an opening to get Vergil off/. If his arms had been free, he could have gone for his guns, which were on the coffee table to one side of them, and pistol-whipped the fucker into oblivion, and hope that was enough to make Vergil /right (or as right as Vergil had ever been) again.

His eyes darted, once, in that direction, and Vergil's own followed, before he let out a low whistle. "And see, I think there's a whole lot you're not telling me, bro."

Dante squirmed, trying to get a foot up to prop against Vergil's thigh to push off of, only to have Vergil release the arm of the couch and shift one hand to brace against Dante's chest (and that shit hurt), and one to hold him still. It made the panic worse, but his voice was remarkably level, as was his gaze, when he met Vergil's eyes. It wasn't his brother. Maybe...Hell, even if everything that had happened hadn't, that still wasn't his brother.

"I know about as much as you do right now." He took a breath, still searching without being obvious for an exit. "You never tell me a damn thing, you know that? Drag me here, drag me there, get me in all kinds of demonic shit I want no part of, and now look. Look what's done happened." He shifted, finding his arms free, and moved to put the bottle aside on the floor for safe-keeping, getting ready to make his move. He'd just clobber the shit out of Vergil. It would hopefully knock him out, and then Dante could figure out what to do next, though tying Vergil up for a while was definitely in the plan.

"Blah blah blah, are you always such a goddamn stiff?" Not exactly the answer that Dante had expected, even if it was something along the lines he himself would say. It was followed with a snort, before Vergil bent over him again, the front of his hair barely brushing at Dante's nose. And he made a promise, right then and there, he was never going to physically harass Vergil again, if the current mess was ever resolved. He wouldn't! He'd be a good boy and keep his hands to himself and not antagonize, because this was not fun.

Dante tried to pull back, but trapped there between the couch and Vergil as he was, there was just nowhere to go. He couldn't lean back, he couldn't move forward, and his wrists were in Vergil's monkey-like grip, and the fucker was too damn strong for his own good. Yes, he was panicking, because things were...Well, they were taking a turn for the worst, and with him like he was, Dante had no chance at all to fight it.

He visibly cringed when Vergil leant down, Vergil's cheek brushing his own. "You need to learn to loosen up, you know that? There's no secrets between twins. Always heard there weren't any taboos, either." It was ended with a soft, low laugh that was anything but comforting, as far as Dante was concerned, and he felt his teeth clench, as he squeezed his eyes shut as he felt Vergil's tongue swipe up the side of his face. He was never going to do that for laughs again, either, because that was violating. Dante would be the first to admit it.

There wasn't any hiding the fact that he was struggling to get away, squirming as he was to find a way to get out from under Vergil, because no, that was wrong. And Vergil's laugh just pissed him off. He snarled and started prying his hands from where Vergil had trapped them against his chest, bearing his fangs and feeling the shift from blue and white to red and black in his eyes. Every time before that, he'd never been aware of it, but now? Oh, now he was.

And it worked, to a degree, as Vergil took notice and jerked back, as though he'd never seen an eye trigger before. "What the fuck," was all the other twin gave, as he backpeddled a moment, before leaning forward once again, giving his own snarl. "Please." It was said with Vergil's own flash of fang, as though he'd just become aware of them. "You think something like that's gonna scare me? Think again, little bro."

What Dante didn't realize was the fact that, unbeknownst to him, and to Vergil, with all the high-strung, restrained emotion and panic floating around, they were simply feeding one another's demonic sides. It was what was making Dante so angry, and Vergil so determined to force Dante to loosen up, if he wouldn't do so willingly. It didn't help that, unwittingly, that blow to the head was pulling on the darker, more subconscious impulses Vergil's own demonic side had, possibly even without Vergil's knowledge when he was in a stable frame of mind. Those needs to dominate and control the situation, especially where Dante was concerned.

Vergil's other hand released where he'd been holding Dante down by his hip, and Dante found himself slammed back hard against the arm of the couch, his skull cracking against it in an amazingly painful way, enough to get his vision to fuzz over, before his hands were pinned there next to it, wrists bent back so that he couldn't flex his hands at all. He swore to God Vergil was trying to break them, and that would suck.

But his legs were free, and that was all that mattered.

Which was why he brought one up, his boot digging into Vergil's thigh with no concern at all with how bad it had to hurt. Of course not. His brother was trying to molest him, and that meant all nice bets were fucking off. He was going to kick that fucker in the face. He was, and he snarled viciously, bringing back his foot to do just that.

Vergil might have been the really flexible one, but Dante wasn't all that far behind, after all.

It was a very amused laugh that Vergil gave, which, if Dante took the time to think about it, reminded him a hell of a lot like Vergil in his right mind: Laughing at Dante because he was trying to fight Vergil, or something. Well, damn straight he was. His manly virtue was in danger from his /own brother/.

But that was fine, because Dante let his kick fly free, for sure he was going to get Vergil right in his big damn forehead, but then...Dante forgot that Vergil was fast. Even like that, or especially so because he had no control over it, he was fast, and Dante found his ankle caught and yanked back, trying to free himself. Of course, the arm that had been let go for that immediately darted for one of his guns, and he grabbed Ebony by the barrel as he was yanked forward by his leg. It was draped over Vergil's shoulder, and if that didn't set off major alarm bells, nothing would, and he struggled to pull himself upright, determined that if he had to pop his other shoulder out of socket to do it, he would.

His leg was caught, and so was his arm, and he let out a noise of frustration, because the whole thing was really starting to suck a whole lot. "Go to fucking hell, Vergil." His eyes were still that unnatural black and red, growing ever deeper in those colors, and he wasn't aware of it, but dark, veiny lines had started up his neck and across his hands. A sure sign he was truly, honestly pissed off.

But what was he supposed to do? Vergil was a fucking monster, when it came to strength, and with him being so...Out of his goddamn head, Dante was pretty much screwed. Literally and figuratively, it looked like, and he couldn't say he was too fond of that idea.

But Vergil, obviously, was through playing around, and moved forward to pin Dante's squirmy body down with his own. It wasn't very awesome, either, because Dante was stuck anyway, with his leg over Vergil's shoulder, though he was flailing it as best he could, to try and at least get one hit in with his heel; if not Vergil's head, than maybe his shoulder or ribs. And Vergil was heavy, too. Hadn't Dante always said he was a fatass? It was a struggle just to breathe, being bent like that with the added pressure of Vergil's weight.

But he literally saw red, when Vergil leaned closer and gave him a wide, fangy, feral grin before he ducked closer, running his tongue across Dante's lips. That did it. It did. And he guaranteed, when Vergil moved in for the 'kill', so to speak, he didn't expect Dante to be so receptive to it. Of course, the minute they were close enough, Dante lashed out, digging his teeth into Vergil's lip and biting down, hard enough to draw blood, before yanking backward. He was determined he was going to make Vergil /hurt/, because kidding around and violation were two very different things.

Vergil gave a growl, and pulled backward, making the mistake of letting the arm holding Ebony go. It was obvious he was going to retaliate, and Dante braced himself for it, all the while gripping the barrel tight, before bringing it down, not sparing Vergil any of Dante's strength, on Vergil's temple.

It hurt, it was obvious, with the way Vergil lurched and stopped tugging back, and Dante released Vergil's lip before scrambling in that moment his brother was slack, to plant the foot that had ineffectually hanging over Vergil's shoulder right in Vergil's face, knocking him off. He supposed that was the good thing there: Vergil didn't have the skills at the moment to back up that strength, whereas Dante did, and he wasn't afraid to use them.

As far as Dante saw it, there was only one way to fix that situation, as he scrambled from the couch and backward, as Vergil started to push himself upright again, still dazed.

"You little twat." Vergil spat to the side, to get the blood from his cut lip out of his mouth, before reaching up to finger his temple lightly, where Dante had hit him with the butt of the gun. "What the fuck."

"Yeah? Say goodnight." Dante didn't hesitate, as he aimed and pulled the trigger. He never even heard the gun go off, and barely felt the jolt of it in his head, before he saw the bullet collide with Vergil's forehead, almost in slow motion. The bloodsplatter it left behind, as it tore out the back, left little to the imagination, as far as what kind of damage it had done, and Vergil sat there a moment, half-crouched where he'd been preparing to stand, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he tumbled from the couch, hitting the floor with a thud.

Dante thanked his lucky stars their side of the hotel was practically deserted and that is was the middle of the day. Had it been during the evening, the cops would have been crawling the place faster than Dante could have gotten them out.

Then next hour or so was spent tying Vergil up with the rope in the trunk of the car and cleaning up the hotel room, because God forbid room service find the mess they'd made when they left in the morning. And he was convinced they would be leaving, and that Vergil would be fine. If head trauma had brought on the problem, head trauma would fix it. That was always how it worked on tv, anyway, so it was worth a shot.

And when the cleaning was done, Dante sat on the end of the couch, opposite to where he'd propped Vergil against the wall, guns in his lap. His right was closed around Ivory, fingers twitching over it, as he watched every twitch Vergil gave, ready to plug the bastard again if he woke up pawsy.

Half an hour after he'd started his watch, Vergil stirred for the first time in a significant way, giving a noise of both pain and disgruntlement, before he blinked himself awake and tried to move his arms, only to find them pinned to his sides. He said nothing, but his expression gave away the pissed off confusion he felt at the situation, before he looked up, finding himself staring down the barrel of the lighter colored gun, Dante's red and black eyes just beyond. "...Dante."

And Dante didn't hesitate. "What are the Unsacred Texts of the Koton. Tell me, Vergil. Or I swear to God, I'll give you a new goddamn breathing hole." He had to make sure it was Vergil, otherwise he would, in fact, shoot him again. There was no way in Hell he was going through that again.

"A fucking hoax. And if you don't untie me, when I do get loose - and make no mistake, wibbler, I will - I am going to take that gun, and I am going to shove it /up your ass/." Vergil's own eyes darkened to match Dante's own, but it was something he'd done on purpose. Dante knew that much, because Vergil just...Had better control over that part of himself.

"No sir. We're not done here. Name three magical texts. No using the Necronomicon because that shit doesn't count." Dante slid his finger over the trigger, because it hadn't been there before. And he made sure Vergil saw it. "Now, Vergil."

Vergil gave an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes even though the action caused his head to throb. "Oh, Dante." It was patronizing, the tone of his voice. "You do realize if you shoot me, I won't /die/, correct?"

"Yeah." Dante's finger twitched there. "But it'll hurt like a bitch."

"Untie me now, Dante, or I'll do it myself." For emphasis, a shard of icy, cerulean blue appeared over Vergil's head, forming itself into a transparent sword. Dante wavered a moment, eyeing the phantom sword, before lowering Ivory to the coffee table before him, moving to slowly deposit Ebony next to it.

"You're not gonna...Try to rape me, are you?" It was said as he moved to stand, and Vergil's answering look told him exactly what Vergil thought about how retarded Dante was being. "I mean it."

"Yes, Dante. Oh, woe, you know how I lust for you. Fucking retard, /untie me/." Vergil squirmed, trying to work his hands to the knots holding him. "I have no idea what you're babbling about, but rest assured I wouldn't touch you through a rubber glove. /Now/."

Dante wasn't entirely convinced, but something just...Felt different. And that was the only reason he moved to comply. Well, that and the fact that they couldn't leave the hotel with Vergil tied up like that. He didn't want to have to explain that one to the cops, or anybody, ever. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

But when he reached Vergil and yanked the knife he carried in his boot out to start sawing through the ropes (he could tie awesome knots, but he'd be damned if he could undo them), he made sure he was leaning away from Vergil, just in case. He didn't want to get pulled in and molested again.

"So, tell me, wibbler. Just why am I tied up?" Vergil glanced over his shoulder, to where he could see Dante as he worked. There was annoyance there, but Dante didn't care. It had been for Vergil's own good.

"Uh, let's not talk about that right now." Seriously. The last thing he wanted to do was rehash Vergil's trying to rape him. The knife slipped through the last few strands of the rope, and Vergil's arms came free, and Dante skittered backward, just in case.

Vergil started for his feet, rubbing at his wrists, before it clicked what he was wearing, and he picked at the shirt a moment, before glancing up at Dante, one eyebrow sharply arched.

"Uh, yeah, it's best not ask."

"...Agreed." If anything, at least Vergil wasn't pushing it. "The ghoul? I assume it's either dead or back in hiding now, yes?"

"I got it." It was said as Dante kept backing away, up until his back hit the wide window looking out onto the beach. Vergil nodded, more to himself than anything, before making his way over to their bags.

"Fine. I'm going to go shower and get out of these disgusting, shaggy mutt tainted clothes. Be a good boy and see about dinner." With that, he gathered up his things and started for the bathroom, leaving Dante to breathe a sigh of relief.

He never thought he'd say it, but he'd definitely take his Vergil over what had happened any day.