A/N: I don't really prefer Ninja Theory's DmC, but there is still definitely important lessons to be learnt from Alternate Dante and Alternate Vergil (like how swearing and sleeping around isn't going to make you a happy man, and if you shoot a pregnant woman, you piss off a demon king). The story presents a rather balanced fight because when you actually look at the facts, DmC Vergil (pre-DLC) and DMC3 Vergil are actually quite on equal grounds in terms of fight. This is of course debatable, but my personal bias is always DMC3 Vergil, so...

[Vergil vs Vergil]

"Things never go easy for sons of Sparda, huh?" Vergil Sparda muttered to himself under his breath, stashing yet another book back on the shelf, disgusted that the library had simply lumped a tome of demonic lore together with fairy tales of vampires and spectres. The librarians had quite literally stashed non-fiction books amongst the other fictional stories and though it should not matter to him, it still irritated him very much when it interrupted in his research. Of course, Vergil did not expect research to be as simple as sitting in front of a computer and typing 'How to open a Hell Gate' into the search bar, but neither had he been expecting to be looking for clues in fairy tales tucked in the fictional sections of libraries. His patience was quickly reaching its end as Vergil grabbed at another book named 'The Legend of Mundus, the king of demons, and Sparda'.

The title itself disgusted Vergil, and neither did the contents of the so-called 'legend' impress him. With only sparse truth scattered and hiding behind stories of grandeur and glory, Vergil became only increasingly disgusted with increasing descriptions of magnificence, and even angel-like wings on the Demon King.

Ridiculous. With patience that had clearly reached its end, Vergil slammed the book shut before another slandering word could be read, chucking it back on the shelf as if it were acid to the touch. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. He was temporarily almost tempted to burn down the author's house and publisher's building to prevent more of such sickening things from appearing ever again. In fact, why was he bothering  to hold himself back?

Feet turned away from the shelf with the clear intention to do exactly what he imagined, but Vergil Sparda was unable to make too many steps, for ahead of him was a shimmering atmosphere that he had never seen before. The only sign of caution coming from him, however, was the tightening of grip on his trusty sword by his side, finger lightly resting on the hilt of his sword.

Demons? It did not seem like it, for demons that Vergil was used to tended to appear suddenly, breaking through reality like shattering glass. This slow shimmering of atmosphere did not ring any bells of familiarity, but Vergil supposed that the demons sent his way could possibly still be on the upgrade at any time.

His preparation for a fight, however, did not reap results when someone stepped out of the translucently shimmering atmosphere, closing the portal in his wake with a hint of black-blue mist.

The man wore a tilted fedora with tufts of white hair peeking around the hairline. Stunning blue eyes and an exquisite set of model-like features held an expression of stark surprise while he scanned Vergil up and down the same way Vergil was doing to him. A body-hugging three-quarter coat hugged a lean frame with a popped collar and equally fitting pants matched his outfit. What was most striking, however, was the fact that the man held a sword that looked eerily similar to his. A little darker in colour of sheath and hilt, the katana that the man held boasted similarities to his own Yamato that Vergil could neither deny nor ignore.

"You are not human." The man spoke in a mid-range tenor, a sentence made that could easily have been mistaken as a question.

"Neither are you." Vergil simply answered. "If you are another demon sent here by Mundus, then you had best prepare to return from where you came from."

"Mundus?" The man replied with a confused expression now. "I am in no affiliation with the man completely. He is dead."

Vergil scoffed. "Fairy tales."

"I have liberated the world from Mundus's tyranny, and here you laugh in my face? Show a little appreciation." The man's answer this time was one of thorough insult, clearly unhappy at Vergil's scoff.

"If that has honestly happened," Vergil conceded, not willing to enter in a pointless argument whether the infamous demon king was dead or not, "then I applaud you with utter sincerity. However, until news of his death reaches my ears, do leave me alone with my beliefs and you with your wanted appreciation."

And since there was obviously nothing much about this man to find conversation in, Vergil took a step sidewards with the clear intention of leaving the stuffy silent library to perhaps engage in the temporary thrill and stress-reliever of killing a few demons. Or perhaps, a few lying authors writing disgusting fairy tales about Mundus, Sparda and angels.

"Wait." The same tenor voice called before Vergil could reach the end of the aisle. "If you are not human while not on Mundus's side, then where does this put you?"

"Half-demon." Vergil answered as if the question did not even need asking in the first place.

"Nephilim?" The confusion in the man's tone was strong enough to make Vergil turn around once again to face him. "I thought we were the only Nephilim left."

"Half-demon." Vergil clarified once more. "Not Nephilim."

"Then your other half is?"

Vergil pressed his lips in a straight, hard line. His demonic side was something that he had constantly taken pride in, because it hid away the most embarrassing part of him –the side of him that he never wanted to admit easily. Still, it was the part of him that had been given by his loving mother. His loving mother; who died because she had been weak as well, and because he had been too weak to protect her.

Deciding that he held no obligation whatsoever to remain in conversation with this unnamed stranger, Vergil offered no answer as he turned away, set on returning to his original intention of some casual demon hunting. He had taken not many steps, however, before he found the same shimmering space a few steps in front of him, and the man who had been left behind stepped out of the portal again.

"You did not answer my question."

"I have little intention to." Vergil answered with a steady gaze. "Step aside before you regret standing before me."

"Regret?" It was the man's time to scoff now at Vergil's words; a fact that irritated Vergil much more than normal. "If you are not Nephilim while being a half-demon, there is only one possibility left. You seem rather ashamed of that half; and yet you dare to stand before me and declare that I might even suffer a single chance of regretting?"

"Question me all you want. The next few questions you ask will only be towards yourself questioning when you will be returning to the dead embrace of your angel parent." Vergil's reply was short and precise, and there was really no more questioning his intentions when his hand carefully closed over the hilt of his katana, watching as the man do the same.

It was safe to assume that the man was equally trained in the art of Iaido. In fact, it was eerily similar in the way the both of them fought. While both parties used their different attacks at each other, Vergil recognised some of his skills being copied and used back on him. When he tried his hand at doing a Judgement Cut to trap his quarry, Vergil had to dodge a heavy Helm-breaker strike that happened seconds later, interrupting his attack. Where Vergil attempted to put his super-enhanced speed to use, his quarry dodged all of them by his annoying skill of teleportation.

Neither of them sustained any significant damage when they paused in the middle of their fight, staring down at each other. Even as the thoughts and wonders of how similar their attacks were ran through his head, Vergil could irritatingly see the same perplexed expression hanging on his opponent's face. It was slowly becoming obvious that neither of the men had expected each other to put up such a good fight as they stood silently panting and doing their best to pretend as if they were not winded in any way. The library remained in shambles, and outside, shouts and screams from terrified evacuated library-goers could be heard.

But humans were beyond Vergil's range of care or concern. Those pesky things were powerless, and though he was born half of one human, he would rather die than embrace this weak and utter pathetic side of him. As a half demon, Vergil was powerful. But as a half human, it gave him embarrassing limits; limits that he was now forced to recognise when the man straightened up to stand at his full height, raising his sword once again.

"Continue deceiving yourself, half-human. Deception is a tool of war, and you have only succumbed and lost to yourself." The man declared with a hint of a smirk when Vergil struggled a little to straighten up in kind.

"I have no needs for your preaches about war. Power and might is everything, and that is what I shall have when I stand over your dead body." Vergil declared, and was unafraid to unlock the hidden well of power inside him. With the demonic power exuding from the pores of his skin, Vergil grinned at the sudden look of uncertainty that flashed across the sharp-featured face. "If you say that my human side cannot compare to your angel half, then let me show you how our demon halves compare."

This time, there was completely no mercy within a single inch of Vergil's soul as he devil-triggered and let loose upon his sword. It barely registered beneath Vergil's realization that his opponent had apparently devil-triggered as well, but the resistance that the man was now putting up was much lesser than during their first fight. A surge of strength coursed through Vergil's arms as he swung his katana down hard at his crouching opponent. There was barely enough time for his opponent to put up his sword in defence before blades met.

The sharp metallic ring came loud in the air.

For a long time, neither men moved as the reality of their situation sank in. The blades of both swords laid side by side on the floor, completely broken in half. It was the first time something like that had ever happened. Vergil brought up his sword –or what was left of it –up for closer inspection, disbelieving of the completely clean break that he saw on it. It was impossible.

Yamato might have looked like just any normal sword on the outside, but that katana had been more than just a sword. It had been the very same weapon that his father had used to close the portal to the demon world; a sword that was infused with demonic powers. It was the sword that had been passed down to him by his father, the only sword that could withstand his frequent usage and level of intensive utility. It had been completely because he knew that Yamato had demonic powers infused that Vergil had relied and trusted on his sword to never fail him.

And now things were turning on its head, and his sword had completely broken on him.

"Incredible..." The first sound that came after the ringing of blades clattering on the floor was almost foreign in Vergil's ears. "This is incredible! You might be half-human, but your strength and skills... It is amazing! This is amazing; how is it that I was so taken unaware by the abilities of your kind?"

"It was my father's sword that you broke." Vergil replied with a growing well of anger to make up for the shock.

"So was mine." The man replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "But my father is never coming back, so no one is going to be using our swords anytime soon. Broken swords aside; I had no idea that enough demonic power could completely break a demonic sword like mine."

"My sword is irreplaceable." Vergil bit out through gritted teeth. His mind was still rationalizing to him, telling him that he might win a fist fight with this Nephilim that stood before him, but it could be disadvantageous for his long-term situation if Vergil wanted to come out of it without any permanent harm.

"Does it look like mine is replaceable?" The man answered with a frown. "Your self-centeredness reminds me terribly of my brother, and Dante isn't someone you'd like me to think about right now."

"Dante?" Vergil repeated, things suddenly clicking in his mind. It couldn't be a coincidence that he would meet a half-demon, half-angel and have Yamato broken on just any normal day. And even though the blade of his katana had broken clean off on its halfway mark, Vergil raised what was left of his sword and once more pointed at the man who had by now slowly climbed up to his feet. "I should have known that you were in Dante's league."

"Dante's league?" It was the man's turn to repeat his words with confusion. "Don't be ridiculous. Who was the man who helped him discover his true powers? Who was the man who sent him help to draw him out of his useless life and tell him exactly what he was meant to be? He should be kissing my feet." The man declared with a laugh, but Vergil heard an unmistakable hint of bitter hatred beneath that tone of amusement. Dante must have done something terrible to this man who claimed himself to the one who had helped Dante get to where he was.

"You did a fine job bringing him out of his useless life." Vergil answered evenly so that the man would not sense his utter sarcasm. He was still conflicted whether he should remain his sword pointed at the man; Vergil could simply not get a sense of where this man stood in terms of loyalty. "He has obviously gotten back to his feckless lifestyle with pizzas and ice cream sundae."

"That is ages better than alcohol and sex when I found him. He was literally living in a run-down trailer." Came the strangely defensive reply.

"Dante lived in a trailer?" I never struck him down for someone who would settle for such a deplorable choice of accommodation." Vergil answered, feeling strangely conversational. It was real strange; how he found himself constantly flickering between an unfamiliar type of comfort and caution throughout the seconds that he stood in conversation with the man.

"How our mother would be so disappointed," The man replied, sliding his half-sword back into his sheath before resting the tip on the floor, "Mother always treated him like he was her only child, and yet look who the one living in a trailer is, while the other son roams the world fearlessly to plant the seeds of his rule!"

Vergil hesitated now, incongruence filling his mind.

"We must be talking about different Dantes here." He concluded quickly, sheathing his sword since his opponent had first taken the leap of faith. "I also have a brother named Dante, but we are the only children of the family."

"How coincidental; my family demography is like yours, and both our brothers are named Dante?"

"A very irritating coincidence." Vergil replied. "One Dante in existence is enough."

"It seems as if he must not have gotten on your good side as well."

"What do you mean 'as well'?" Vergil could not help but ask, a little disbelieving of how unconsciously easy and unguarded against the man that he had become. Yet, somehow, some part of him felt a strange, unspoken connection with the stranger.

"Dante betrayed me for a girl. We fought and he almost had me killed. That foolish idiot gave up all that we had been fighting for just for a single human woman that was completely dispensable in our cause." Again; that bitter edge of hatred came, but at least Vergil now understood the source of that edge.

"Well, my Dante not only refused to gain our rightful power of our father, but also stopped my own independent conquest for it. He left me in the Demon World and made up a whole story about how we fought and I insisted on staying. He even cried crocodile tears to lend the act. When I was looking for my way out of Mundus's Mallet Island, he came along and tried to kill me again. That is 2 whole times my brother betrayed me." Vergil was not sure why he was telling a completely stranger this, but he knew that he had experienced a strange need to compare the extent of how horrible their own brothers had become against them. It almost felt as if Vergil could understand the man's prejudice and hurt anger against the man's brother Dante, since Vergil had gone through it all himself.

"We have both been badly mistreated by our respective brothers." The man agreed ruefully to Vergil's unintended admission. "Horrible as it sounds, I am somewhat glad that I have a companion who not only shares the same name for brothers, but also similar experiences. I do not supposed that there could be more similarities between us?"

"Dante was enough a similarity." Vergil answered, still feeling odd. He was doing his best to resist creating a connection with this strange man, but the unexplainable feeling that they had much more in common both nagged and unnerved him at the same time.

"How about we team up?" The man's proposal came out of nowhere, surprising Vergil where they stood in the middle of the ruins of what was supposed to be a library. Books had been tossed from destroyed shelves, and splinters of wood poked through mounds of fallen books. Vergil watched with increasing curiosity as the man seemed to spy something in the pile of fallen books all around them, walking over to pick the object of his interest up.

Vergil almost rolled his eyes at the unprecedented coincidence: the title of the book was clear to see: 'The Legend of Mundus, king of demons, and Sparda'.

"Have you read this abomination?" The man turned around to ask Vergil, though Vergil didn't really supposed he needed to verbalise his reply –given the grimace that he made uncontrollably at the book.

"Yes, I thought so too." The man agreed with a deprecating smile. "It is both ridiculous how the story of a man's bloodline and family has become so diluted in lies and imageries of a species completely different from the truth."

"My father would have rolled over in his own grave if he were able to read this book." Vergil had to admit. "The Sparda I knew would never tolerate such deplorable lies about his lineage. I was taught to be proud as a demon by him."

"Yes, Father was-" The man began, then stopped suddenly as head turned back to stare at Vergil all of a sudden with eyes wide with curiosity. "Your father?"

"Yes." Vergil frowned a little. Surely there wasn't going to be another coincidence again? "Sparda."

"That can't be..." The man mimicked his confused frown now. "My father was Sparda as well. The Legendary Dark Knight Sparda."

"Ridiculous." Vergil shook his head with firm conviction this time. "There is a limit on how far you are taking your lies."

"I have no need to lie about my lineage. I am Nephilim, and I am the proud son of the Angel Eva and Dark Knight Sparda." The man replied in something that almost sounded like a boast.

"That cannot be. My mother Eva is human." Vergil answered. "Please do not try to make up more heresy about our mothers coincidentally sharing names. With a father named Sparda, mother named Eva and a brother named Dante, I don't suppose that you are about to call yourself Vergil as well?"

The man pursed his lips, and that was the only reply that Vergil received.

"Ridiculous." Vergil repeated. "I cannot believe that you have just wasted my time. You would do better trying to copy someone else's family, because I have no time to entertain your fairy tales about you descending from an angel mother Eva and Legendary Dark Knight Sparda. Continue reading your fictions and leave me alone to deal with Dante."

"My family isn't a lie." The man refused to back down, biting out his words almost as if he were chewing them out with great force. "There has to be an explanation for this."

"Yes." Vergil answered, turning his back on the man. "Either you are badly mistaken and have to return to whichever asylum you appeared from, or you belong in an alternate reality. Neither solutions involve me; thus I ask that you not spend any more of my time since you have already spent enough of it.

"Fine then." The man replied in obvious annoyance at Vergil's flat-out refusal. "It seems that I will be reaping nothing productive from you either way. And since you have ruined my sword, I don't believe that either of us are going to walk away just like that."

"Good." Vergil cracked his knuckles and once more unsheathed his broken sword, fearlessly still placing his back to his opponent. "Come straight at me."

"I would not have it any other way."

At the end of the fight, both men knelt on the floor, their legs too tired to hold them up. Swords were completely gone and broken, and they had been reduced to using their hands and legs. Devil-triggering had been done and completed, and still both men stared at each other with fire in their eyes, wishes in their souls to conquer over each other. Vergil had never really had such a strong desire to win victorious over another individual prior to this, but it was happening now as the man who was apparently also named Vergil Sparda glared back. Both heads of white hair shone underneath the fluorescent lamp of the ruins of a library.

"The end of the line..." Vergil wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, and pushed against his knee, forcing his legs to move and keep him upright, though he swayed a little unstably even on his feet.

"How interesting..." Vergil Sparda answered as well, peeling off his blood-stained gloves and dropping both on the floor before coming up to his feet unstably as well. "Vergil Sparda against Vergil Sparda. Which one will be the one that reigns victorious?"

"The one who wins gets to decide who rewrites the legend of Sparda, and everything that happens to his sons." Vergil agreed, lowering himself into a defensive position with his fists clenched and ready to let loose.

"How apt; the history is always written by the winner." Vergil declared, clenching his fists as well. "Then we will see how writes the history this time. You or me, Vergil Sparda."

In the uncoordinated unison, both men named Vergil Sparda charged towards each other with their fists drawn back. The intention for a straight punch ran through both of them, and the force of their last ounce of strength carried them forwards as their knuckles met. A shock wave reverbed through Vergil as he found himself thrown backwards, flying through the air.

And then he woke up, on his bed, panting and sweating as if he had been fighting a man of the same name and same family.