A/N: I think I came across somewhere which presented the theory of Dante being a depressed individual (I just can't remember exactly where). This puts the Dante I usually portray in a completely different light, and if Dante is a depressed man, then where do we put Vergil? This chapter is a little different from the previous ones, and it really leaves a space for consideration: that maybe the Dante and Vergil that we thought we knew and liked might be more than just 2-D men and hide more than just their demons beneath their surface.

[Standing Still]

Vergil stood on the other side of the window, never daring to look over. He had made the decision so many years ago, and even if he were to be forced to admit that his decision had ultimately been foolish and regrettable, Vergil still remained with the resolve that he would not go back on this foolish decision. He had come so far; there was only so much left of the road that he was walking on before he fell off again –this time for real and forever.

The sunlight shone on his back, casting his shadow through the window on the floor of the dusty offices of Devil May Cry. If the sombre lone proprietor of the joint ever thought to look up from the magazine that he was perusing, he would have seen Vergil clearly on the other side of the window, gaze stuck adamantly on the floor outside.

But the red-clad demon hunter never did as such, and thus neither did the blue-clad half-demon look up to meet eyes. Vergil stood for a full minute, and decided that it was enough. He had risked enough.

He turned away from the window without a second word and started down the walkway that he had taken only minutes before. Vergil did not pay much attention to the scenes around him until he reached a café nearby. Blinking in surprise that his instincts had brought him here when his brain had been swimming with sombre thoughts, Vergil spied a pair of little boys playing on the sidewalk. One boy was obviously older than the other, but they had similar features that pinned them down undeniably as brothers.

Vergil watched as the older and taller brother stop the younger one from crossing the road, holding on to his little brother's hand tightly in his own small ones as he watched the cars zoom pass on both sides. Vergil waited along with the boys as the traffic cleared, and then the boys began to cross the road, hand-in-hand. The little brother's bright eyes tagged on everything around them with the wide-eyed wonder of a young child, while the older brother's gaze kept alternating between looking up and down the road for any chance of cars passing.

The simple act of the elder brother bringing his younger one across the road made Vergil melancholic. The utter trust of the little brother shone completely in round brown eyes, completely unaware and uncaring of the fact that he was putting his life completely and undeniably into his elder brother's hands. The trust was clear, and so was the care that the elder brother put in.

Vergil could not predict how this pair of brothers would grow up to become –or how their relationship would turn out –but it reminded him a moment of he and his brother. Dante and he had once been like that. Dante had trusted Vergil with the whole of his heart while Vergil watched up and down the road for cars. Even though they were technically the same age, Vergil had been minutes older and mentally matured much faster than his twin brother, hence making him the elder brother figure between the both of them. In the beautiful past, Vergil and Dante had been trusting, loving and caring.

Now, it was impossible. Too many things had happened between them. Too many of those things had been his fault, actions on his side that now, as a grown-up, he could not understand. He had been going through a rebellious phase, and without a parent figure around to keep him in reign, his thoughts had gone completely down the wrong road.

In terms of emotional growth, Dante had matured much faster than he ever had.

A small toot of car horn took Vergil out of his reverie, and he snapped his icy blue eyes to the car that had pulled up on the sidewalk right in front of him. Focusing eyes on the driver, he quickly recognised the owner of the small green Smart Fortwo.

"Morrison." Vergil greeted, feeling the word come uncomfortably. Vergil had been in his own world for too long and had not been forced to speak in a long time. His voice sounded weird in his ears, though he made sure not to show it on his face to avoid to have to explain even more.

"I thought I recognised you from far." The middle-aged man replied with a friendly smile and wave. "I was on my way to Devil May Cry, but since you are here, do you want to do a job?"

"What kind of job?" Vergil questioned suspiciously with a small frown. By now, he had begun to learn that whenever Morrison brought a job to his brother, it tended to be something of a higher level as compared to what normal demon hunters did. The easy jobs were always taken up by the freelance demon hunters out there in the market.

The high earning, big-scale jobs were the ones that Dante swept up.

But of course, Vergil knew as well that even though his brother swept up these jobs, the man tended to either squander it away almost immediately on unhealthy pizzas and strawberry sundaes, or have it completely taxed by Lady.

"There has been something strange going on in the news press down at town. They have a printer that suddenly only prints in red ink that looks suspiciously like blood, and no matter how they programme it, it only prints the words 'demons' and 'uprising'. The workers were freaked out and turned the power off, but the printer continues to work and print those words repeatedly even without electricity."

"Maybe it is just a bad joke." Vergil suggested. "Someone trying to close the company down?"

"Yes, but someone tested the printed pages. It was not red ink. It was blood." Morrison answered. "The workers tried to move the printer to the dumpster, but when they took the lift back up, it was there again in the printing room, still printing the same words in blood."

It was honestly beginning to sound a little demonic.

"Why a demon hunter, though? Humans are not knowledgeable enough to differentiate between supernatural beliefs and demonic happenings. Who told them that it was the work of a demon?"

"I believe one of the workers mentioned the happening to the freelance demon huntress Lady. She sent me on my way to tell Dante to get on the job, but since I met you..." Morrison continued, fading off at the last bit with a hopeful expression.

"I'll do it." Vergil answered, pulling the door of the car open without invitation. "Make payment like the usual; pay off Dante's debt with the woman."

"Got it." Morrison didn't even bother protesting about his uninvited entrance of the car, waiting patiently for Vergil to close the door before the car rolled off easily. It was a practice that the elder man was used to; neither of the Sparda brothers liked to travel to the sites of their job alone. As some form of extra incentive to do the job, Morrison had always needed to be their chauffeur and bring them right to the doorstep of the place.

"Why are you still doing this?" Morrison finally dared to ask after five minutes of complete silence, waiting for the light to turn green before he chanced a look over to the man sitting on the passenger seat. The man sat so differently from his twin brother. Dante had always been extremely relaxed in the car, going so far as to even putting his foot up on the headboard. Vergil was completely different; sitting straight with his hand still clutching on to Yamato, shoulders tensed and ready for a fight anytime, eyes completely pinned up front.

"I thought I told you to never ask me that question ever again." Vergil answered in a tone that was so stern that Morrison immediately snapped his eyes back on the road in front of him, afraid that Vergil would sense him looking.

"I'm sorry." Morrison simply mumbled his quick apology, regretting that he had let the question slip unchecked from his lips. It had been exactly what had been swimming in his mind, and his lips had formed the words even before he realized it was being said at all.

"He is further into it than before." The sentence came out of nowhere, filling the silence of the car at the next red light.

"I'm sorry?" Morrison repeated, this time in a slightly different tone.

"He is walking down the same road as I am, except that I'm further on this path, and I'm trying to push him back."

"What path?"

"Solitude. Depression." Vergil's reply was short, but the heavy silence that punctuated behind the words almost choked Morrison with its weight. Afraid of speaking any longer, Morrison put the car back in drive when the lights turned green, almost glad that he had an excuse now not to speak anymore while he drove. But driving did not stop his mind from wandering.

Depression? The elder son of Sparda was saying that Dante was on the road of depression, and that Vergil himself was already further down this path? Morrison did not claim to be a psychologist, but Dante did not seem like a particularly depressed man. At least not in the way Dante acted.

Then again, that was the scary part of depression, wasn't it? It was always hidden. Even Vergil had confirmed himself to have depression, and Morrison could not sense a single thing from the interaction so far.

"We are on the same boat; him and me." The words came again from the silent son of Sparda. "He is just more human and more afraid of hurting his friends. Keeping yourself detached so as to protect the people around you; it's been tried and tested. It works, but it comes at a cost."

"What cost?" Morrison could not help himself again.

There was another long uncomfortable pause that made Morrison almost glad that they were nearing the location of the demonic activity, which meant that he could be done with this awkward, dangerous and uncomfortable conversation that was taking a toll on his lifespan.

"The cost of losing yourself. Falling to the lure of killing demons to let loose yourself, then keep yourself empty when you deal with everyone that matters. Looking for power so as to be able to control yourself better, and becoming hungry, desperate to keep yourself sane."

The words opened up a scary insight to the man's life that Morrison was completely unprepared to get a glimpse at.

"Thank you for the ride." Vergil's last words were terrifyingly normal but Morrison could not manage a word more before the man was out of the door.

Eerie dead silence met Vergil as he knocked, then let himself into the building that had its lights all turned off. Inside, he could easily see an abandoned office that showed evidence of previous hustle and bustle. But now it was a ghost town, as papers and whatnots were left strewn on tables, cubicles left in their disarray. Not a single soul was in sight, and there was good reason, because even in the deserted silence of the office, Vergil could still hear the sounds of printing going on up the stairs –presumably in the printing room.

"I thought it would be something like this." Vergil announced from where he stood in the doorway leading to the printing room, seeing everything clearly with his demonic sight. It couldn't be seen with the naked human eyes, but Vergil was not blind like the humans. He was half demon, and that meant that he saw the imp demons clearly, jumping and dancing around the printing machine.

The demons paused in the middle of their jumping, looking at each other with the clear confusion. It was quite obvious that the sad demons assumed that he was a human and could do absolutely nothing to them. It was to the demons' disadvantage, as Vergil stood calmly.

"I have no needs for beings like you. You guys are not the ones I'm here for." Vergil announced with quick decision. Besides, a job intended to be given to Dante Sparda would never be so easy. There was definitely a catch or another. These bunch of low-levelled demons were only the beginning, and Vergil was impatient to get to the root of the problem.

It took him exactly one attack to move from one side of the room to the other side, slicing everything in his path before guiding his sword blade back into its sheath with nothing but a satisfactory click. The thrill was not there; the satisfaction of killing demons and letting loose the other side of him was not yet achieved. There was more; there had to be more.

As a half-demon, it wasn't even hard at all to sense out more. The demonic power was impressively strong in the storage. In fact, it was so strong that Vergil paused for a moment outside the door to the storage room. He could feel the demonic power shooting beyond the charts, but as he stood near it, he began to realize that there was something wrong... something wrong with the demonic power that he was sensing.

And then the muffled sounds of gunshots came, and Vergil's heart sank. Morrison had lied.

Or maybe Morrison hadn't lied, but the freelance demon huntress named Lady had decided to go straight to the red-clad demon hunter herself.

Dante was definitely in the room just on the other side of the door. There was no questioning it.

Vergil's fingers itched. He could just open the door. If he opened the door, then everything that he had been struggling alone with would be gone just like that. Those years of regretting, those years of painful silence in his life, of watching and waiting, of standing still on the other side of the window... they would be gone.

As long as Vergil got to meet his brother again.

The thought ran through his head over and over again, and his hand hovered over the doorknob. He could still hear the gunshots going off, the splatter of demon blood and juices all over the floor. The scuffle, destruction of shelves and general sounds of chaos could easily be heard on the other side of the door.

But as loud as those sounds were in his ear, the sound that was the loudest for him was the incessant thudding in his heart.

Maybe he could do this. Lose all his determination and open the door. Pretend that nothing happened between them and go straight back to his brother's side. He knew that Dante would forgive and accept him immediately. It was simply the way that Dante was; simply the way that Dante had been taught by their mother.

But at the same time, Vergil held himself back. What was the point of going back to Dante's side? He was going to lose it one day. He might have all of his faculties back now. He might have his rational thoughts back now. But he was like Dante in every sense; and even worse in some. He was like Dante: he ran the risk of losing himself to his demon and becoming a mad half-demon that killed everything that moved just to answer his bloodlust.

But Vergil had more than that. Vergil ran the risk of losing his faculties again, to once more become the brainless, mindless servant of Mundus that he had once been. Dante might have killed him once to save him, but there was no saying if it could happen again. It could happen anytime, and if Dante took Vergil back, it would put Vergil in the perfect position to harm his very own little brother.

And that was something he had sworn to himself to never do again; controlled or uncontrolled.

That swear ran through him mind once more, and Vergil's determination ramped up a notch as he pulled his hand back just before it could make contact with the door knob. He had kept it up for so long. Staying away from Dante for the rest of his short life might get a lot harder as the days passed, but Vergil was determined. He had sworn to himself.

Vergil took a step back, clearly intending to silently back out from this place so that there would be no traces of him here. Even if Dante checked the printing room to find the dead demons, Vergil would be long gone by then. He had a good head start if he left now. There was no way Dante would be able to chase after him if he left now.

He hadn't taken another step back before the sound of a loud thud appeared, and Vergil blinked, crossing his eyes to look down at the metal tip that pointed at him right between his eyes under his nose.

He recognised that sword tip.

"I know you're there." Vergil heard the words muffled from the other side of the door. Through the frosted glass, he saw the physique of a man that was his twin brother standing there.

Then, just like that, the determination that had drove him to take his first step away from the door was gone just like that. His feet remained rooted on the spot, staring at the silhouette through the frosted glass, waiting, wondering. Did Dante know who it was standing on the other side of the door? Or did Dante just know that there was someone on the other side of the door?

Was Dante going to open the door, and see him standing there? He watched the silhouette with held breath, wanting to run away yet wanting also to stay on the spot if Dante ever opened the door. If his brother did anything of that sort.

"I don't know why you are here. I don't know what you are doing here. But if you are really the man I know you are, open the door." Dante's instructions once more came from the other side of the door, but Vergil neither moved, nor talked, nor breathed. Vergil didn't dare to do anything at all.

"Are you going to remain like that forever? I've been waiting for so long. I've seen and heard and felt you around, but you never had the guts to walk through that door. How many times must you stand on the other side of the window? How many times are you going to hesitate on the other side of the door?" Dante continued when Vergil made no reaction at all, and the realization that maybe Dante had actually been waiting for him struck through him like lightning. What if Dante had never been passively living his life, waiting for the next mission so that he could let go of his inner demons? What if Dante had been waiting for something... and that something had been him?

"How many times more are you planning to do this, Vergil?" Neither of the brothers moved, and with the door and frosted glass in between them, Vergil was glad that his brother could not see his expression. If they were at Devil May Cry all over again, he was sure Dante would have seen everything clearly as bright as day.

"How many times are you going to just be standing still? I don't know what's holding you back, but if you stand still and never walk forward, you will never get anywhere. If you continue standing still on the other side of the door, I'm going to start walking forward and leave you behind."

The fear was instantaneous. It came down with such terrifying strength that every muscle of his body tensed without his control. And the few muscles that controlled his free hand flexed. His fingers wrapped around the knob and turned.

Dante Sparda stood on the other side of the doorway, an expression of silent satisfaction hung upon his face when he stared at his brother, the man that had always been standing on the other side of the window, looking in but never daring to walk in or talk.

"Finally, your first step. How does that feel?" Dante asked, but it was as if a mute spell had fallen over Vergil, because no words could make it past his parted lips. He could only stare.

"Come on, Vergil. I've been the only one talking."

"Dante..."

"Yes?"

"I might lose control one day and hurt you."

"And so will I." Dante answered casually with a shrug, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his sword and pulling it free from the door. "That's why I've been keeping away. Morrison told me. You were right. If I'm falling into depression, then why don't you help me out? Humans like Patty and Lady cannot survive me. Trish doesn't stay long enough to do anything. You're the only one left with the slightest chance of surviving me, and it's going to be the same likewise."

"Then... You mean to say that you accept me? Even after all that I did to you?"

"I don't remember you having done anything to me except to make me wait for you." Dante replied, fitting his sword on his back and once more stuffing his hands into his pockets. "But you've taken the first step, haven't you? You're no longer standing still."

"I... I didn't mean to..."

"You didn't want to be left behind, did you?" Dante chuckled softly, stepping out of the room and brushing past his brother. It was ethereal; the fact that Vergil had been staring at the man through the window, over a distance for so many years and now their shoulders were touching each other. There was no glass between them this time; no windows and no doors between them. "It is surprising, though. I didn't think you were the kind to be afraid to be left behind."

"I didn't... I just moved..." Vergil's weak protest was a strong indicator of what he had really felt at that crucial time.

"It doesn't matter, does it? You opened the door. You took your first step." Dante gave a pat on his brother's shoulder in soft praise. "So you'd better keep walking forwards with me."

"But..."

"No more standing still, Vergil." Dante grinned, and it was all bright once more. He had missed this look. Neither he nor Dante had smiled in a very long time, and it was a refreshing look that Vergil hadn't realized he had missed at all.

"No more standing still." Dante repeated, and Vergil blinked in surprise when Dante laughed and suddenly took off in the opposite direction. "But how about you start by chasing after me?"