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The Rebellion went flying. Having it torn from one's hand in such a matter had to smart--Vergil would know. He'd had the Yamato knocked from his hands many times when his fingers were still too small for the hilt. He knew the tenderness that persisted until his demonic healing kicked in and fixed the bruised bones.
He didn't give Dante the time to think about the miniscule stinging in the fingers of his sword hand before the Yamato was squarely shoved through his exposed abs. Vergil resolutely paid no mind to the horrible choked sound his brother made as the blade curved upward through his back--probably nicking a lung or something--and instead leaning forward in hope that some of these next words would take root in his skull instead of going in one ear and out the other.
"Foolishness, Dante. Foolishness. Might controls everything. And without strength, you cannot protect anything." Dante's hand, gripping Yamato's blade right before it disappeared into his flesh, was soaked as red as that awful leather coat he was wearing. Another few strained breaths heaved in and out of Dante's lungs as he gathered the strength to straighten just enough to meet Vergil's eyes. Vergil pushed Yamato just another inch or so into his brother's abdomen, pulling him in so that they were eye-to-eye. "Let alone yourself."
And with that, Vergil planted his free hand on his brother's collarbone and pushed, yanking Yamato free in one smooth motion that left Dante teetering backwards. Vergil grabbed the amulet from where it was dangling around his twin's neck, slashing through the arm that dared reach out and try to take it back.
Dante hit the ground with a dull thud and a splash, blood pooling beneath him and mingling with the puddles of rainwater.
Vergil gazed down at the amulet in his hand. The red jewel glittered as perfectly as it ever did, set in the pendant and held by a sturdy silver chain. The last piece of the lock. The last piece of his mother. He brought it to his forehead, whispering a promise to himself. This would succeed, and he would have the power to kill Mundus with no interruptions.
In one smooth motion, Vergil swept his rain-soaked hair back away from his face, just how he liked it. He turned away from Dante, who still had yet to move. Rebellion was embedded in the stone of the tower. Vergil plucked it up as he passed.
Dante stirred, a soft grunt of pain escaping him as he sat up.
Vergil whipped around and lunged forward, stabbing downward until two-thirds of Rebellion's blade had pierced through his brother's sternum. The wickedly sharp edge of the longsword cut through flesh and the stone below with ease. The hole in Dante's abs left by the Yamato still had yet to fully close.
The pool of red grew.
"Do you finally have it?" Arkham asked, having just arrived while Vergil's back was turned.
"Yes," Vergil said, holding back a scoff. Of course he'd have been able to take the amulet from his fool of a little brother. "Now the spell Sparda cast will be broken."
Arkham said nothing, but his gaze drifted over Vergil's shoulder. Vergil allowed himself a glance back at Dante, still lying on the wet stone and pinned by Rebellion, before turning and beginning to walk away.
He made it three steps before something roared.
Instantly, Vergil had one hand on Yamato's hilt, ready to defend himself, but he wasn't expecting the display before him.
The skull on Rebellion's hilt had opened his maw, the eyes glowing a malicious red. The roar, Vergil belatedly realized, wasn't as much aloud as it was in his head, much like how the Yamato had shrieked in fury the night his devil had been awakened. Unlike that night, however, the Rebellion had yet to launch itself from Dante's torso.
It was right about now, as the spiritual roar became deafening, that Vergil realized two things. One: Dante was screaming, his head thrown back against the stone of the Temen-ni-gru and whole body writhing in pain. Two: Dante's presence, where it was usually a steadily blazing bonfire, felt contorted, like it was attacking itself.
Vergil connected the dots very quickly. Dante was fighting tooth and nail against his devil half, and it was killing him.
"We should be going," Arkham said, suddenly very close to Vergil's ear. "We have all that we need for now."
Vergil knew that leaving Arkham to his own devices was a bad idea. He knew that deviating from their common plans would throw his personal ones out onto the table, and give Arkham leverage to betray him. But still… it was not within Vergil's plans--short term or long term--for Dante to die.
"Then go," the older twin snapped, not sparing a glance towards his co-conspirator. "Be ready. I'll join you shortly. This is too personal a matter to postpone." Vergil strode forward, stopping at Dante's side and waiting until Arkham retreated from the top of the tower. Once the old man was gone, Vergil gripped the hilt of Rebellion, eyes still glowing and maw still wide and roaring, and pulled it from Dante's chest. One last choked cry fell from the younger twin's mouth before he fell silent, save for his heaving breaths. The gaping hole left by Rebellion closed itself up within seconds. The wound from Yamato was long gone.
"Dante," Vergil hissed, kneeling down to support his brother's neck. "Dante, you fool. You have to stop fighting it. You'll die, trying to fight off your devil half."
Dante furiously shook his head, refusing to open his eyes. The bright inferno of his soul continued to twist in on itself.
Vergil's panic ratcheted up three whole levels, and his composure, always thin when it came to his brother, shattered. "WHY?" he howled. "Why, Dante, why would you rather this kill you than come to realize your full potential? To stand by my side, you must be strong. We could be unstoppable together, we could have our revenge on Mundus… Why do you resist your devil side?"
Dante hacked weakly, raising one hand just enough to squeeze Vergil's arm. With great and obvious effort, his eyes opened and met those of his older brother.
"They killed mom," he choked, and Vergil's scowl morphed into something like horror. "I watched demons kill her, and you think I wanna be one?"
Vergil clenched his jaw so hard it hurt and dragged Dante upright, holding the fool against his chest. "Where?" he asked--whispered, really, afraid of the answer.
"The house," Dante said, and his words started to come as clipped sobs. "She went looking for you because I pissed you off and when I went looking all I found was your blood and I thought--"
"Dante." The presence tucked against Vergil's chest twitched, like a prey animal putting up one final fight within the jaws of a bear.
"I'm sorry. Please don't go."
"I left you," Vergil whispered, staring out at the city beyond the edge of the Temen-ni-gru. "I left you then, but Dante, if you allow your devil side to awaken I swear on our mother's name that I will never leave you again, do you hear me? Do you hear me?!"
For three long, agonizing seconds, Dante was silent. Then he took in one more deep breath and let go with a monstrous roar. The little brother held in Vergil's arms morphed into a red and silver devil with an outpouring of energy that almost sent the two of them flying apart. Dante's wings flared and his claws dug into Vergil's back, and then as abruptly as it started, it was over. With one final wheeze, Dante's eyes rolled back in their sockets and he slumped bonelessly against Vergil, dead to the world. The convulsing turmoil of the younger's soul evened out, not to its usual brightness, but it steadied and slowly began to recover. Vergil let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The rain was still coming down, and some of Vergil's plans had been irreparably altered, but he would cope. He'd made a promise, and Dante had held up his end of the deal. Vergil would be here when his little brother woke up.