Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The suns beat down upon his back, his shoes sinking into the sand as he crossed the endless expanse of the desert. Black clothes sucking in the warmth and increasing it tenfold. The only thing that would provide any shade was the large cross that weighed heavily on his back and shoulders. The weight of his sins. A thing that he would carry with him for as long as he was able to draw breath into his lungs. A reminder that he could barely be called human anymore.

His bike had broken down many iles back… How many iles back was it again? Under normal circumstances he would have been able to keep track of how far he had traveled, but his head was foggy. His vision speckled with the bright, fluttering lights that danced before the oases that were taunting him, forever remaining the same distance away no matter how many steps he took toward them. His legs were screaming, burning with lactic acid that had built up long ago. Muscles taut as they strained to push forward against the resistance of the sand. If he could just keep moving, surely, luck would look down upon a poor sinner and give a small blessing. The Punisher planted itself into the ground and caught him as he fell to his knees, his back now resting against the very thing that had been causing it to creak and ache. Dehydration… What a stupid way to go out. 

The priest let his eyes shut slowly, the tension in his neck releasing as his head slumped forward.

Darkness…

And then there were voices. Someone poked the crown of his head. “Quite a well prepared dead guy.” Should he be offended by that? Well, maybe he could play a fool and make them let their guard down.

He snapped his head up and tensed his torso to make it seem like he had just been startled awake. “Well, praise the Lord, hello!” If he wasn’t so thirsty, surely he would be sweating bullets. His voice scratched out of his vocal chords and cracked in odd places like he was prepubescent again. It seemed that his innocent act had worked, considering all the people that had gathered around relaxed and helped him onto the bus that was heading to Mei. His eyes immediately gravitated toward that blood red coat. Oh, how fate works in mysterious ways. 

That was how he met him. Vash the Stampede. The man that he had been sent to guide. To keep an eye on. To bring to his demise.

It took Wolfwood by surprise to hear that he was the one that made the bus stop for him. Even more so that every passenger seemed to either be too dumb to recognize him or had no lust for the bounty. It helped that the man certainly didn’t exude an air of danger. If anything, he acted more like a complete goon. It was his smile that betrayed that image, along with those eyes. All of his anguish, his fears, and the sheer power that he held rested within those blue eyes. Yet, in his heart he held far too much kindness for those that didn’t deserve it.

He learned that the girls were traveling with him as part of their job for an insurance company. Keeping an eye on him and reporting any destruction that was caused by the human disaster. Such a strange job for some insurance workers. But, seeing the stun gun fall out of Milly’s dress when the strap broke and the flash of many derringers from under Meryl’s cloak was enough to tell him that they could handle their own if they really needed to.

 When the bus stopped again for everyone to stretch their legs, the driver pulled Wolfwood aside. “Look, pal. I gotta make a living here too, n’ I can’t have ya riding for free. Fare is $$100.” They both crouched down, using the side of the bus as cover while he dug around his pockets to pull out his wallet and empty its contents onto the sand. Hissing a breath between gritted teeth, he could tell just by a glance that there was no way he could afford it. The driver raised a brow at him before turning his gaze back to the money, counting it for both of them. “1, 2 ,4, 6, 8… Doesn’t matter how many times we count it, you don’t have enough.” 

“Come on, driver. I still need to be able to eat later. Please count it one more time.” He tried to give a weak smile, though inside he felt his anger building. It really was too good to be true to think that he would be able to at least get to a small town or nearby village for free, especially after getting scraped off the desert floor. As the driver shrugged and began counting again, his eyes wandered only to meet those sky blue ones. Vash was leaning against this side of the bus as well, watching them. Or rather, watching him. When he realized that Wolfwood had noticed and was staring back at him, he offered that empty smile and raised a hand in greeting.

His attention was snapped back when the counting stopped, “- like I said, you don’t have enough. Look, tell ya what, I’ll let you ride for $$80. Take it or hoof it.” $$80? That will leave me with only pocket change. Well, guess I really don’t have a choice here. 

He tried to force a grin and clasped his hands together with a laugh. “Gee, Mister, that would be just great! Thank you for your generosity!” He smirked and quickly scrambled up to the top of the bus where all of the luggage was stored, his resting within easy reach. Play the part. He’s watching you. I have to keep his guard down. With his prop in hand, he jumped down and placed a model building onto the driver's head. “As a treat, I’ll let you use this confessional, free of charge! Surely you have something to confess. Maybe a sin or three.” 

Clearly unimpressed, the confessional was shoved back into his arms and the man left in a huff. With a sigh, partially relieved that he wouldn’t actually have to try and act like a priest, he slumped back down against the warm metal and scooped his change out of the sand. 

“That a part of your trade?” So you really were watching me. 

“Nah, just picked it up for a bit of added income.” Wolfwood rose to his feet and pulled a battered cigarette out of his breast pocket. I really should try harder to keep the pack from getting crushed like that. It took a few tries to get a match to light, but when it finally took he shut his eyes and pulled until the tobacco caught flame. The smoke slowly curled in his lungs and he expelled the noxious gas slowly, savoring that gentle burning feeling in his chest and throat. “The church kinda doubles as an orphanage. Taking in kids from abusive homes or that have nowhere else to go.” He contemplated putting the used match back into his pocket to dispose of it properly for a moment before tossing it into the sand. Not like it really matters anyway. “Gotta make money to keep hungry mouths fed. Figured I could try to monetize the service somehow and set off.” If only it were that simple. If that was his whole life’s purpose. That would be something he could feel proud of.

The priest’s attention was pulled away from the conversation when he heard the voices of two small kids begging their mother for some food. I know that pain. The pain of unending hunger. The way it feels like your stomach is full of knots and makes your whole body hurt in turn. Taking as much in as he could, he did one last drag before throwing the half-used cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his shoe as he walked over to the family. He crouched down so that he was at the kids’ level and pulled out some small meal bars. 

“Hey there, heard you were hungry.” He tilted his head to the side and smiled to try and seem friendlier. He held out his open hand for them and pointed to each bar. “Here, see. This one… is yours. This one… is yours. And this one…” I really am a monster… If only I could - His eyes quickly flicked to the mother’s face. She was just as hungry as the children. It was clear as day in the way her cheeks were sunken in. I’m sorry. He hooked his thumb toward himself, “... Is mine. It isn’t much, but I promise they are super tasty. Think that will tide you over?” The kids gave a pleading look to their mother, searching for permission before happily taking the snacks. The mother gave a small bow of her head and a quiet ‘thank you’ before leading the children back toward the bus so they could sit inside. 

Returning to full height, he made his way back to the shade. Vash looked on with a smile. Genuine. Beautiful. Angelic, even. It pulled at his heartstrings to know that that was how he should always look. “So you can smile.” Wolfwood was almost as shocked as Vash was when those words fell from his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it wasn’t something that he wanted to take back either.

“What’s that?”

“Your smile. You seem to default with one on your face, but it is so empty it makes me want to cry. All it does is cover the pain you feel.” Just like me. I hate looking in the mirror when I look at you. Another cigarette was produced. Another match is added to the sand. Smoke floats into the air only to disappear. The nicotine calms him down and brings him back to center.

“Huh. I didn’t realize.” Vash’s hand slowly moved to his cheek, touching it gently before turning to cover his mouth.

Wolfwood shifted closer so that he could kneel beside the wanted man. He reached out and grabbed his wrist, the leather warm and weathered to hell and back. He forced him to pull his hand away. “Don’t hide it. It suits you more than you know.” It was odd. Why didn’t he want to let go of Vash’s wrist? There was something comforting about it. Something that made him feel at home. It has been a long time since I last had any human contact, huh? Maybe it is starting to take its toll. But Vash also seemed to be growing uncomfortable and gently pulled his arm away. The priest’s fingers lingered, letting the leather slide out from his loosened grip. He took a deep breath through his nose before turning his head away to take another drag, the cherry lighting brighter with the pull of oxygen before dimming once more. Awkward silence wrapped around them. Neither of them quite knew what the other was thinking about.

Then a scream ripped through the silence.

Danger had caught up to them. Both men quickly got to their feet, giving each other a knowing look before rushing off to find out what had happened. Clearly they weren’t the only ones concerned as other passengers had also gathered around the fallen man, one calling for a stretcher. The smell of burning flesh was the first thing that hit Nick’s nose. Then the sight of the cauterized shoulder, angry red blood trying to escape out in pinpoints but failing to spill. What the hell? 

Mechanical whirring could be faintly heard in the distance before a gunshot rang out. Vash had his gun drawn and smoking. “Everyone, on the bus! Now!” It became a free-for-all. Startled passengers pushing past one another as they tried to get through the tiny door. Milly fired her stun gun at another as it peaked over a dune, the large cross knocking it back. Her, Meryl, Vash, and Wolfwood were the last ones to get on as they watched the lost technology seemingly unbury themselves from the sand. Vash was mumbling to himself as the bus hurtled through the wasteland, swerving wildly when gunshots hit the sides. And then, the worst happened.

“Has anyone seen my child?”

You have got to be kidding me. The mother was frantic, calling out her child’s name and looking around the bus. The way everyone cast their eyes to the metallic flooring was enough to know that they all had the same thought. A child had been left behind with those machines.

Vash and Wolfwood talked in unison, determined to go and do the most reckless thing they possibly could. “Keep everyone here safe, I’m going to find the child!” The innocent shouldn’t have to die alone. They shouldn’t have to die unnecessarily. He leapt off of the bus without a second thought. Rolling, sand getting in his eyes and mouth. As the momentum was spent, he managed to find his footing and slide to a halt on one knee. To his right was that bright red coat. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to save the child.”

“Same here.”

Vash raised a brow and pointed at his coat, noticing something he had clearly failed to, “Without a weapon?” 

He patted himself down before looking at the bus that was already far ahead. The Punisher rested like a beacon up top. “Shit…” How could I be so stupid. What did I think I was going to do, negotiate with them? Use the word of the Lord to convert them to peace-loving robots? Wait… He felt a brief wave of panic and did one more search. Something far more important could have fallen out when he took that tumble from the moving vehicle. He reached his hand into his suit coat once more, this time going for the hidden pocket toward the bottom right side. His fingers brushed against something smooth and cool. And another. 3, 4, 5, 6. All there, thank God. The last thing I need would be to dig through the sand for these. He pulled his hand out from the pocket and tried to give Vash a convincing sheepish smile. “Guess you’re right.”

Vash tossed him a small knife with a smirk. “The least you could do is be prepared to defend yourself.” Clearly he trusted Wolfwood’s reflexes with the way he threw it. Had he not caught it, it would have found its new home in his side. And thus, they were on the move to intercept the machines and save the innocent. For love and peace.

Using the knife as a mirror, Wolfwood looked over the sand dune they were hiding behind. “There are quite a few of them… I don’t see the kid anywhere, though.” When he turned his attention to his companion he hadn’t expected to see such an odd sight. The Humanoid Typhoon was laying on his stomach, his head turned to the side with a pained expression like he had a stomach ache. “What’s wrong with you?” Don’t tell me… This has got to be a joke.

“I got shot in the gut by the leader of the Bad Lads three days ago.” The wound is acting up because you threw yourself out of a speeding bus. Guess you can’t really do much about that. He’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t impressed that the blond had been able to hide that fact until now.

“You got shot by…” What was his name? Would I even know it? “...the leader of the Bad Lads? You really do lead an interesting life.” But now was not the time for them to be shooting the breeze and telling stories of their past exploits. A child’s life was on the line and if they didn’t get moving soon… He rolled from his back to his knees, staying low so that he wouldn’t be spotted. “We gotta go.” 

“You listen and yet - “ With Vash protesting and whining behind him, he started his way down the dune. The machine turned its long neck toward him, the camera seeming to adjust its focus. With a leap, he brought the knife down on the top of what could be considered its head. He felt the resistance wrack through his bones before he felt metal give. The knife blade snapped and shot away, not even a scratch left where it had connected. He fell to the ground, sand parting around him like a cushion as he looked up at the mechanical beast. I may not have a weapon, but there is always a backup plan. Subconsciously, his hand had already found its way into that hidden pocket again. His fingers hooking around one of the vials, separating it from the rest. More of those machines were beginning to move, trying to converge on the black suited sitting duck. What sounded like a single gunshot rang out and all of them buzzed and sparked as a hole was blown through each of their heads.

“You make a great decoy!” Vash called out to him happily as he reloaded his gun. He was ready to let his guard down as well when he saw one rising from the sand behind him gearing up for its shots. Wolfwood gritted his teeth and threw what was left of the knife with deadly precision, whizzing past Vash’s ear and hitting its weak point before it could fire. His arm screamed in agony from the force that he put into the throw just to make sure that it would reach the target.

He smiled back as he straightened himself out. “And that time you were the decoy, Spikey.” 

“Huh, I guess so. Nice support.” Vash then turned on his heel and ran across the sand, firing at another group of machines in the distance. It didn’t take long for them to find the child as she stumbled out from behind the now unmoving hunks of metal. Thank God.

They both let out a sigh of relief and stopped in their tracks. But for some reason, the horizon kept moving, rising up. “Quicksand!” The needle head next to him cried out and continued yelling as they began to sink faster into the ground. No, this isn’t quicksand. It’s like something opened beneath us and is sucking the sand in!

Wolfwood took a deep breath as his head was pulled under. The light slowly faded from his vision as they were plunged into darkness. The only sound now was the rushing of sand around them. It felt like an eternity. Then his body flopped onto the ground and he sucked a sharp breath in. Hard metal floors. There was just enough ambient light from some of the modules on the wall for him to make out a vague outline of Vash and see the coat as a deep maroon. “A ship? How long has this been buried beneath the sand?” 

His companion had already started to walk through the hall they had fallen into. There was an air of confidence to his stride, like he knew exactly where he needed to go. The sound of his boots making contact with the metal beneath them reverberated off the walls. Wolfwood checked his pockets again while his back was turned before catching up.

Just as he was about to overtake him, Vash stopped dead in his tracks. The sound of his stomach growling broke the tension completely. He turned to look at Wolfwood expectantly. Those bright blue orbs wide and threatening crocodile tears. He’s so cute. The priest raised his hand in defeat and brought out the meal bar that he still had. He tried to break it in half, but the weak point was in a weird spot. He tried to pass off the shorter end to Vash, “Here. Can’t have your stomach giving us away.”

“Wow. You know, with the children you were much more generous.”

He shrugged and pulled his offering away, bringing the tasty treat closer to his mouth, “Guess you don’t want it then. Suit yourse-” His hand was clasped between Vash’s suddenly. His grip was firm and the leather brushed against the back of Wolfwood’s hand in a way that made his hair stand on end. Vash tugged at his arm, causing him to stumble closer.

“I am eternally grateful for your kind offering.” Vash then opened his mouth, his eyes closed as he waited for the treat to be given to him. This guy… He’s gonna make me lose my mind. Wolfwood pressed the bar against Vash’s tongue and dropped it. His mouth snapped shut and he let out a satisfied noise as he chewed. “Theesh really are good! Where do you get ‘em?”

Wolfwood nearly dropped his half as the question hit him like a punch in the gut. How did I get these? I feel like they were always there. He tried to calm down. Think. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to have forgotten about something like that, right? People forget about these kinds of things all the time. He forced a nervous laugh and ran a hand through his hair, casting his gaze downward. “You know, I can’t remember. Must have been from the last town I stayed in.”

Relief washed through his veins when Vash seemed to accept that answer without a second thought. They continued along the path toward the gaping threshold and a large, circular antechamber. The catwalk they stood on gave them a good view of more of those machines waiting below.

“Are they protecting something?” 

“They have to be. Otherwise, why would they be operational?”

“So what’s the plan?”

Vash held out his gun for Wolfwood to take. He gave a thumbs up and confident smile, “I’m gonna jump down there to distract them. You shoot them down before they get me, okay?” Trusting someone you just met with your life? There must be something he isn’t telling me.

“What makes you think I know my way around a gun?”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have jumped out of the bus to save the kid. But if you don’t want to, then you can be the one to go down there and I’ll shoot.”

He had him pegged. He looked down at the silver gun in his hands. Vash’s gun. Something about it being entrusted to him made his heart skip a beat. “I’ll shoot.” Focus on the job. Keep Vash alive. Play your part, priest. He put a hand on Vash’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “May the light of God shine down on you… It’s something the Big Guy likes to hear in times like these.” He bit his tongue, feeling stupid for trying so hard to pass off as a devout priest. When he had committed so many sins, who was he to ask for the aid of God, even on the behalf of another?

“Does it work?” 

“It does if you believe it to…” Unfortunately, I gave up on believing in it long ago.

“Okidoki then.” Vash gave him a small wave and then vaulted over the ledge, his coattails flaring out around him as he fell to the ground below. 

All of the machines immediately turned their sights on him, the whirring sound of their internal guns preparing to fire all sounding at once. Steady now. He let off three shots as he began to run along the catwalk to keep his sights on Vash. The path changed, the catwalk looping around a large pipe. He worked his way around to follow closely from above. Vash was dodging shots gracefully, his coattails flowing around him like ribbons. It was like watching a dance. His flexibility was on full display as he turned and leapt around. Just as Vash was surrounded by five of those things the gun in his hands clicked, empty. He didn’t give me any spare ammo. How could he be so dumb? 

Wolfwood couldn’t stop himself. His body started to move without his permission, preparing to jump down and fight with his bare hands. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, his vision narrowing as that urge began to build. Fight. Fight. And then his inner voice became something different, something darker. Fight. Kill everything if it means you can protect Vash. Who’s voice is that? Why can’t he remember? It felt like someone else was feeding their thoughts directly to him. 

He clutched at his head and snapped his eyes shut, desperately holding himself back as his muscles pulsed against the strain. Blood was pounding behind his eyes. A relentless pressure started to weigh down on him. It hurts. Make it stop.

But when his vision rushed back to him, Vash was still standing. The machines were all destroyed and smoking. So he had another gun on him. He hadn’t heard any gunshots, but that must have been because of that urge blocking his senses momentarily. Wolfwood breathed a heavy sigh of relief and rested a hand over his still rapidly beating heart, willing it to calm down. He watched Vash continue into a control room, choosing to wait outside the door for him to finish whatever he felt the need to do in there. 

His hand found its way to that hidden pocket again. Still seven there. So that was just an aftershock or side effect - something else - and not from taking one without thinking. He shut his eyes and rested his back against the wall, arms crossed as he tried to focus. Who are you? Can you hear me even now?

Protect Vash. Give me Vash. It couldn’t really be considered an answer to his question, more like an errant thought that just happened to get through to him. It played on repeat, but was so distant that he didn’t hear it unless he really tried to tune in on it. 

Banging and screeching metal noises started to come from the ceiling and drew his attention away from the strange voice inside his head. The main lights of the room were suddenly cut, leaving him with only the emergency lights to rely on. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to it, just in time for that red coat to appear in his peripheral. 

“Ready to go then?” 

He kicked his leg off of the wall and tucked his hands away into his pant’s pockets, figuring that even if there were any machines left over, whatever Vash was doing in there would have deactivated them. That strange noise was still coming from the ceiling, though, and right when he finally chose to look up was when he saw a metal slab falling. Coming right for him.

Lucky for him, Vash reacted quickly and dove toward the priest. It both knocked him out of the way and left him on his back with a long leg between his, gloved hands on either side of his head, and plush lips painfully close. Their noses were almost touching. Hot breath hitting his skin. The light from the newly opened hole in the roof acted as a spotlight on the two men. Emergency lights like blue stars above them. For a moment, Vash’s eyes were narrowed in that serious expression he had when in a fight before going wide in shock. It finally dawned on him exactly what position they were in. 

“Ah… hhh… I-I just… heh. Saved you?” He continued to laugh nervously as he carefully peeled himself away. He felt Vash’s leg brush against his ankle as he scooted back, sending a shiver up his spine. That… felt odd. Why did his legs feel like jelly? Maybe he really was starting to lose his mind. That would explain the strange voice in his head too.

“Heeey, you guys okay down there?”

“Mr. Vash! Mr. Priest! It’s us! Milly and Meryl!”

“Hey, Insurance Girls! We’re over here!” Vash tried to wave them down, hoping that they would be able to see them in the dim light that engulfed them. Vash then knelt down and offered a hand to Wolfwood, that goofy grin and a light dusting of blush on his face. “Looks like we won’t have to wander around looking for a way out. Lucky us, right?”

“Yeah… Lucky us.” He accepted his hand and was pulled to his feet once more. 

They climbed up the rope ladder that was dropped down to them, Vash in front. It gave Wolfwood the perfect view to see how nicely his pants hugged him whenever the tails of his coat swayed to the side. He tried to look away and focus on the rope instead, feeling the blood rush to his face, but his eyes kept wandering back. I’m not looking at his ass, I’m just making sure I don’t miss the next rung. Yeah, that’s what I’m doing.

As they finally crested the makeshift exit of the ship, the suns assaulted their vision and the heat of late afternoon reached them. The girls immediately began doting on the crimson clad bean pole, leaving the priest alone with his thoughts as the group clambered back onto the bus.

Wolfwood hadn’t realized that he had shut his eyes, but they shot open when the vehicle lurched and jostled suddenly, forcing him and many of the other passengers awake. His body was turned slightly to the side so that his back could rest against Vash's chest. It seemed that he didn't mind as he yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, wiggling in the seat and against Wolfwood like he was nuzzling back under a blanket. The priest slowly peeled himself away so that the only parts of their bodies that continued to make contact were their knees. Vash must have felt the seat shifting and began to stir awake fully, making several cute little noises in the back of his throat as he stretched an arm above his head. 

“Come on, just a bit longer?” He pawed at Wolfwood’s shoulder, beckoning for him to return to his previous position. As he expected, when he looked over at his newly found companion he saw closed eyes and a pout. It reminded him of the way some of the younger kids back home would act when he tried to wake them up. And then those eyes that held the expanse of the sky within them opened to lock onto his. A moment that lasted for only a few seconds felt like minutes, but Vash was the one to avert his gaze first. His head whipped around to look out the window, then back toward Wolfwood and the girls, and then back to the view outside. “Something doesn’t feel right…”

Wolfwood leaned over Vash’s shoulder so that he could get a better view outside as well. The twin suns had started their descent on the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and bloody reds. There was no movement; even the wind itself had stopped blowing. The loose sand on the ground was undisturbed. No footprints. No treks from a wagon or truck. Nothing. Where has everyone gone? Bingo? There was no point in waiting around in the safety of the moving tin can any longer. He was the first to make his way off, bee-lining to get The Punisher free from the tethers that bound it to the top. Keep your guard up, Nicholas. If there is anyone here, they probably have their aim set for anything that moves. The bus rocked beneath him as the weight distribution was disturbed. 

The civilians seemed to pay no mind to the bizarre atmosphere that hung heavy over Mei as they went along their way. It was like they were in on what was going to happen upon their arrival. On to live their lives as they always did and find their way into the buildings as fast as their legs would carry them.      

Eyes trained on all of the buildings surrounding them, he clambered down to connect his feet with the bedrock. The leather strap that he carried his cross by had already found its way home, digging into his skin. Vash, Milly, and Meryl were the last ones to disembark and just as they had taken their first step away the doors swung shut and dust was kicked up by tires that searched desperately for traction. The four of them were alone in the middle of town. That was a catalyst for disaster. The signal had been given as the bus honked four times in rapid succession.

Gunshots started raining down in their direction, aiming mostly for the brilliant red target. Wolfwood turned on his heel so his back was to the spray, bullets slamming against the Punisher and leaving a golden rain of sparks behind him as he put his body in front of Vash who, in turn, was trying to shield the girls. Slamming his makeshift tower shield into the ground, he crouched behind it and used his shoulder to keep the cross propped up. “Alright, Spikey, got a plan?”

“Wait for them to run out of ammo?” When he looked over his shoulder to give his disapproval, he was met with that goofy grin that completely disarmed him. There were already less guns firing than before, mostly because of several of the stun-gun’s crosses being fired at the open windows, leaving those inside stuck under the massive weight. Meryl had already started running for cover in an alleyway, keeping herself low to the ground as she moved. 

One stray shot managed to ricochet off the left side of the cross, grazing Wolfwood’s cheek. Another managed to find the edge of his shoulder, leaving a tear in his suit and shirt. I would rather not just wait around for the possibility of them not having boxes of ammo set aside for this. The clip was released, causing a chain reaction along all the other belts that kept the cover snug on The Punisher. It was nice to know that, for the most part, everyone trying so hard to gun them down were piss-poor shots. 

“Wait a minute! Hey now, put that back down! Whatever happened to ‘Thou shalt not kill’?” What rich words to hear spill out of the humanoid typhoon’s mouth. The one that was known to leave senseless destruction in his wake, even if it wasn’t entirely his fault. “Wolfwood, they’ll need to reload eventually! That’s when we will be able to negotiate!”

But he could no longer hear the blond man’s pleas. His blood was already singing in his ears like a raging flood. Adrenaline building steadily. Don’t lose yourself. “It’s just going to be a warning…” That didn’t sound like his voice. It was monotonous. Dead. Like a stagnant black ooze that fell from his mouth. His sights were trained on a middle-aged man in a wide brim hat that had stepped into the center of the window wielding a shotgun. Someone that looked like he could be in charge of this whole thing. His gun was trained on Vash, and the Punisher was trained on that man. The world slowed around them. No, I need to… 

Pull the trigger, Wolfwood. 

If it was the will of God speaking to him, then who was he to disobey as a clergyman? If God was the one to force his hand, then so be it. Vash’s guttural roar ripped through his very soul, but his finger still squeezed down on the trigger against his will. Shock painted his face when he realized that the golden angel’s sudden outburst had made him redirect his aim, forcing the barrel to spray bullets in a diagonal line along the wall of the building instead.

The gunfire immediately ceased.

There were no longer any light emotions painting Vash’s features as he shoulder checked Wolfwood on his way past. His eyes reflected the anger of the sky above them. Like he was looking down on an insect. Watching him stand tall, hands up in surrender, voice feigning innocence as he called out to all of the townsfolk, Wolfwood felt sick. Like he was trying to breath through a straw underwater, his chest heaving as he wheezed. He couldn’t even hear what Vash was saying to them, his ears ringing and his vision blurring too much. Maybe… I’m still dehydrated. He could make out the vague shape of Meryl joining him to also call out to those who would listen. The cross was growing too heavy to bear. He couldn’t hold it up anymore, nor could he stay standing. His vision tried to focus, pulsing, before fully fading to black. Like a doll that had been thrown aside, he fell limply to the ground.

Useless. I’ll have to try harder next time.

Wolfwood pried his eyes open, the only light to greet him that of a lone lamp beside him. He was tucked into a bed, his upper half bare save for his rosary and the bandages around his midsection. The iron cross was cool against his sweat streaked skin. The room was uncomfortably barren, nothing decorating the walls and minimal furniture around. A small table in the corner, a nightstand with a bowl of water and dish rag. The Punisher was wrapped and propped against the wall that faced the foot of the bed, though it wasn’t as nice as he would have done it. The suns had long since set, the world outside the only window in the room, dark and quiet. What happened? Weren’t we in a fight? Beside him Vash seemed to be sleeping in a small wooden chair with his arms crossed over his chest. His hair seemed to be a little more limp, like the gel had started to give out. When he tried to sit up, all the air in his lungs rushed out suddenly. There was an uncomfortable pull in his muscles. It was like he had been…

“Shot in the stomach… And two in each of your sides. I hadn’t realized it either until you collapsed.” He hung his head now, looking at his folded hands which rested tensely on his lap. The stains of dried blood were still on his gloves. Guilt was eating at his heart. Don’t blame yourself. Don’t. I should have listened to you. Not- Vash looked so broken like this, absolutely nothing like the look he had before Wolfwood fainted. 

He began to think that maybe the human disaster’s belief in peace was his religion, which was why he had done everything he could to stop him from shooting, even if it was to protect the two of them. Now, with Wolfwood injured, it must have felt like he had committed the most egregious sin. It made him feel even worse when Vash raised his head, the now dried tear trails still staining his cheeks. There on his lips was that smile that held all his sorrow. 

“They said that they couldn’t find any that didn’t pass through, though, and that…” He cut himself off, like there was something they told him that he hadn’t come to understand yet. Wolfwood had a feeling that he knew exactly what it was, too. His hand instinctively brushed over his stomach and sides, the bandages that covered them still soft and free of the wet stick of spilt blood. That the wounds had already closed. So I must’ve still had some of the drug in my system from a previous time. I wonder how recent that had been then. Same day as my bike broke down? It answered a lot of questions that had been swirling around for some time now and only left more in their wake.

Now was not the time to get introspective. Right now, he needed to do something to make the man beside him stop fretting. “Hey, now. No need to look at me like you’re staring death in the face. If the doc says that I’m fine, then all’s well that ends well.” He tried to prop himself up again, this time making sure that he was mindful of the way his muscles stretched. Throwing the blanket aside, he turned so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed facing the downtrodden blond. “So, what’s the verdict with the townsfolk?” If we need to get out of here, better to do it in the dead of night. 

Vash perked up quickly, getting back to his old self, or at least doing a great job of pretending to have recovered with Nic’s words of encouragement. He puffed up his chest like a proud bird, giving him a thumbs up, “Taken care of! We are free to stay in town for now. They will even cover a few nights for us here while you recover.” 

His shoulders were starting to relax and things were starting to feel less tense in the room. Good. See? Everything is okay. Vash slid himself from the chair to sit next to the priest, the bed creaking in protest of the additional weight. He started getting that wistful look on his face again. His voice became much softer. “When Meryl told them that the bounty was no longer valid, they all seemed to regret what they had done.”

“Well, most people wouldn’t feel too good gunnin’ a stranger down for no reason at all.” Nic had been awake for long enough now that the daze was finally starting to clear. 

Unfortunately, that also made his teeth start to itch with the need to have something between them. Another side effect of the drug? Maybe. A result of his terrible coping skills through chain smoking? Definitely. His clothes had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and he wasted no time in getting a filter locked between his teeth. The smooth wood of a matchstick was twirled between pinched fingers. 

Vash stopped him before he had the chance to light it up, plucking the match from his hand before it was struck. Blue eyes full of disapproval met with cold steel ones. “Would it kill you to wait a bit? You're injured.” 

“Well, if the bullets didn’t kill me, a little smoke won’t do me in.” 

He could see Vash’s jaw clenching, like he was rolling his next counter around in his mouth. A tendon flexed in his neck as he swallowed. But nothing came. Instead, a dissatisfied sigh spilled from his lips and the match was returned to him. “I really would prefer if you ate something first…”  

Wolfwood made quick work to chase his light. The smoke wrapped around his insides like a safety blanket. Vash stayed right by his side, watching him intently. Analyzing him. Taking in every detail of Wolfwood's exposed chest like he had him on a table prepped for dissection. Is he looking for the scars? Strangely, his cigarette didn’t fill him with that sense of comfort it usually did. It just made the burning knot of unease deep in his gut all the more palpable. 

The longer those blue eyes pierced through his being, the dirtier he felt. Like there was a permanent stain on his soul that could never be washed away. Something that couldn’t be seen but tainted his presence. He could feel every particle of sand that stuck to the long dried sweat and general grime from the day’s travel. He needed to redirect the attention on him toward something else before it drove him mad. “Can’t really eat something if there’s no food in here. Care to grab me a bite?” I need a shower. Wash away the filth and clear my head. 

Vash seemed hesitant to leave him alone, but slowly removed himself from the mattress. "I'll be back, then. Just… Promise me you won't keel over again?" He stood before the door, looking over his shoulder with those crystalline eyes that brimmed with concern for him. Wolfwood gave a dismissive wave like a child shooing his mother out of his bedroom, which seemed to be enough for the other to leave him to his own devices for a time.

He remained seated on the soft mattress until the sound of Vash’s footfalls thumping outside faded completely. Just in case. For all I know he could still be suspicious of me. Not that he had been showing many signs of suspicion toward him or his behavior. In fact, the amount of inherent trust he seemed to put in people was what unnerved Wolfwood most about the blond. He had such a strong belief in the hidden ‘good’ that resided in everyone. Like he could rehabilitate even the worst of murderers. We need to break him of that. 

He shook his head vigorously, dark hair slowly peeling itself away from his sweat drenched forehead. There it was again. That voice he felt like he knew, yet couldn’t recognize no matter how hard he tried to push through the holes in his memory. 

“Stress. Must be from stress.” His voice cut through the silence, but it didn’t help to make him feel alone as he would have liked it to. Instead, it further instilled that feeling that someone or - something - had its eye on him. 

He forced his body to rise from the bed, his vision swaying for a moment as his inner ear struggled to keep up with the sudden movement after such a long rest. Paranoia led him into the bathroom, checking the small space for any signs of tampering. What kind of tampering he was looking for he had no clue, but it was something he felt compelled to do. Once he was satisfied, he shut the door and locked it. Not that he felt a need for privacy, but because the idea that he could get ambushed in the shower without a way to defend himself had wormed its way into his mind. 

The water came bursting out of the showerhead when he turned it on. There was a slight brown tint to it, not an uncommon sight, though it seemed to be lighter than he normally would have seen. Impressive for such a small town to have the water to spare. Unless it’s recycled and used as drinking water after. Gross. It slowly began to heat up as well, producing a thick steam that slowly conquered the expanse of the space with its haze. He peeled all his clothes away slowly, discarding them haphazardly on the tile. Maybe he could convince Vash to wash them for him later with the way he was so insistent on doting on him. 

Blood stains crusted and tinted the blue-black of his suit pants burgundy. The bandages fell on top, slightly tinted grey from use. Beneath was only the faintest sign of injury, something that had to be actively looked for to even see against his dark skin. He ran his fingers over each of the new nearly circular indents, noting the slight difference in texture between them and the unscarred surroundings. His rosary was treated with care, gently placed on the counter after being turned over. The back had an engraving on it, “Property of the Eye of Michael”. Yes, that is all you are. Property, a tool, a weapon. 

He felt like a hole opened beneath his feet and swallowed him. A deep pit found its root behind his heart. He was breathing steadily and yet he was suffocating. Impossibly small again. When had he gotten so tall in the first place? No, he was but a child. We molded you. Made you into something far stronger than you ever were. You took the first step on your own. I only wanted to help give you a push. A dead body. Bitter hatred for the cadaver that used to stare down at him. A weapon was clenched in his tiny hands. Someone came for him later. Then he was forced under a spotlight. Shadows surrounded him, loomed above before that blinding backdrop. Needles found a vein, tore his arms apart. His own blood began to boil, burning him from the inside out. While he was still on fire they would all force him up and throw him around. Make him run, pound him into nothingness and then keep grinding his bloodstain under their boots. 

When he was able to stand on his own again, they would hold an apple out for him, but never allow him to take it. He wanted nothing more than to tear that crimson skin apart between his teeth. To feel the cool juices fill his mouth and quench his thirst for life as he swallows pale flesh. I just want to live. Let me live! 

That is what I am doing. I’m allowing you to live. But Life has its price.

His senses slammed him back into reality. The pull of it forced his head to lull forward before it snapped back and he gasped for air, his hands resting on the countertop spread wide to hold himself up.  

Closing his eyes, he crossed the threshold to the shower. The water pounded against him, loosening his muscles slowly with the force. It burned deliciously on his skin, reminding him that he was still alive. That, come tomorrow, he would still feel the heat of the suns on his back. That he was still human in some sense of the word. He pushed the memories back down, for once wishing that he could just forget them in their entirety. Of all the memories he still had, those were the ones that he wouldn’t mind losing so much. Yet the only solace he was offered was that they would bury themselves again, waiting for the next chance to catch him unawares.  

He forced his thoughts to switch gears while he had the space to think about a plan. So, I just gotta convince Vash to let me travel with him to wherever he is going. Should be simple enough. A priest with no destination in mind deciding to stick close to a man with a bounty… No, that sounds stupid. It’s basically a death wish. He definitely needed an excuse. What would even be a good excuse for him to make? He scrubbed at his face in frustration, thinking that maybe if he relieved some of the tension building in his brows it would make the thoughts flow better. Ok. Ok. Think. He is nothing more than a pacifist. Maybe go with the angle of someone needing to keep an eye on him to keep buildings from collapsing when he runs. No, that’s what the girls are doing. Shit. I mean, my actual reason for wanting to follow him is to protect him. Should I just be honest, then? 

Honesty. It was something that filled him with dread. To admit feelings that he didn’t fully understand. It was so deep-seeded into his being that it had rooted itself onto his bones and etched the words into his heart. Protect Vash . The mantra that he always heard as the steam rose from his skin and the drug coursed through his veins, and the first urge that he would have when the fog in his mind cleared and God spoke to him. The thing that he heard on repeat when the world grew silent. Yes, just tell him the truth. He will trust you. He clicked his tongue and tilted his head back so that the water’s force would be against his forehead in an effort to drown out the voice again, his bangs slowly falling limply to the side with only a few strands managing to hold their ground. 

I want to protect him. For him to trust me. I want to see that smile again. The real one. His thoughts began to meander away from thinking about what to tell Vash later to the many different sides of him that he had already had the chance to see. And then to the way they had fallen in the lost tech. Further than that. He closed his eyes to chase the images his mind was blessing him with. Vash on top of him with his eyes narrowed, the blacks of his pupils almost overtaking the blue. His heart started to beat heavily, blood rushing to his face and southward. 

He was wrapped in warmth, the feeling of water tapping his skin transformed into Vash’s hands exploring his body. Mapping every inch of him until there was nothing left untouched. Positions flipped, him on top of Vash. The bright sky within his eyes wide with shock and then long lashes fluttering closed. Vash’s cute lips parting slightly as he let out heavy puffs of breath. The contrast of heavenly white skin slowly being dusted pink under his touch. His hair gel giving out so that golden locks fell over his face and fanned out on the pillows like a halo of sunshine. Soft sheets being balled into his fists as he slowly lost himself in anticipation with each kiss Wolfwood placed on his skin, trailing butterfly-light down his torso.

His fingers brushed along his happy trail until they found their way around his hardening cock. He gave a few tentative pumps, trying to push back the awkward feeling and focusing on his fantasies. It’s been a long time. It couldn’t hurt to indulge this once. The water was beginning to lose its burning edge, so he didn’t have much time left if he wanted to take care of himself before his muse inevitably came back to check on him. That pleasurable heat began to swirl and pool in his stomach as he found his rhythm. It took everything in him to hold back the noises that were trying to claw free from his vocal chords, keeping everything muffled to short puffs of air. Vash would be so perfectly tight around him, would be calling his name with each thrust he gave. “Wolfwood. Ah- ah- W-wai~ I can’t- so close~ Fuck, Wolfwood~” He couldn’t help himself, his hips instinctively trying to thrust into his own hand like he was living his fantasy in real time.

“Wolfwood!” 

The call of his name was his unraveling. It was the real thing, calling out for him, muffled behind the door and rushing water. It wasn’t full of lust or need or hunger; there was a jovial ring to it, a teasing question hidden within what could be taking him so long. The evidence of his shame swirled down the drain. He shut the water off. The thought of being in the shower any longer than he already had filled him with bitter embarrassment. He ran his hands over his face to collect the water that clung to him and flicked it away.

Wolfwood didn’t bring a change of clothes in, nor did he want to force back on his pants while he was still damp. His only options: put back on the sweat drenched boxers he had in the heap or strut out in nothing but a towel. The latter was slightly more appealing if only for the fact that he may be able to get a rise out of Vash. Another gentle rap at the door, “Wolfwood! Is everything okay in there?”

“Yeah, just… give me a minute, Spikey.” They are both guys. It isn’t like it would be weird for him to be comfortable enough with his body to not worry about clothes fresh out of the shower. He’s already seen me half-naked. Maybe even more than that if he was in the room when the doctor was looking for other injuries. 

The towels were a tad short for his liking and the material was closer to fine grit than a cotton rag, but it did the job it was made for. He focused more of his effort in getting his hair to stop dripping, ruffling it aggressively against the cloth. The residual heat from the day would surely make the rest of him dry in no time at all. When he wrapped it around his waist it became clear just how short the towel truly was. It just reached mid-thigh, enough to cover him but not enough to leave anything to the imagination - especially so with him still half-hard. Lord have mercy… Nothing I can do about it now. Hesitantly, he unlocked the door and allowed the humidity to rush out to mix with the dry air of the main room. 

Feigning confidence, Wolfwood stretched his arms behind his head and puffed out his chest; his spine cracking loudly in response. It felt amazing, a satisfied groan rumbling low in his throat as he returned to neutral. Vash was still standing right outside the door, only a foot between them now that the barrier had been opened, his hand posed as if he were about to knock again. The steam billowed around them, seemingly embracing them. Brilliant blue followed a droplet of water as it crested over his pec and meandered down to his waistline, disappearing into the crisp white towel. His eyes continued traveling downward. And then stopped. An eternity passed before his gaze snapped back up to meet Wolfwood’s eyes once more. 

“I- Uh… I…” His face was red as a wildfire, eyes darting about the room to look anywhere but at him as he chuckled and rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. 

“You?” Wolfwood exhaled long and slow. 

“I made you soup! For dinner. So you can eat.” He continued to sputter out more nonsensical words, doing everything he could to draw attention away from what had just happened. And yet I can see that you keep looking, Spikey. Quick glimpses back to the arc of the fabric. To the crest of his hips. To his chest. To the puckered scars that had grown more prominent with the heat and humidity. He can feel his own blush beginning to creep back into his cheeks. 

“Uh-huh… You enjoying the view, Blondie? You seem to be eatin’ me up right now.”   Mentally, he celebrates his own wit. Fuckin’ smooth as silk.  

Vash hid his face behind his hands and turned on his heel, quick steps leading him back to the bed. With a dramatic groan, he threw himself onto the mattress and rolled onto his side. It pulled a proper laugh out of Wolfwood. Who knew I could still laugh like that. He went to sit next to the body that was slowly trying to become one with the sheets. As promised, the steaming bowl of soup had replaced the bowl of water that had been on the nightstand before his shower. Yet even with his stomach growling in protest, a cigarette was the thing that found his mouth first. 

Muffled whining reached his ears, “Can’t you put some clothes on?” 

“Need to clean ‘em. Dirt and sweat ain’t nothin’ new, but the blood might make people nervous.” His cigarette danced happily between his teeth as he spoke, the filter slowly molding itself to the shape of his canines as he offered a toothy grin. The words helped jumpstart the crimson clad fool into gear as he launched up to gather the shirt and suit coat from the end of the bed. “Aw, you hate seeing my body that much?”

“That’s-! I don’t- You’ll catch a cold!” 

“Well, guess you’ll have to make me more soup then.” Wolfwood removed the cigarette from its place between his teeth and set it on the nightstand, pulling the bowl of soup onto his lap. It was already luke-warm at best. Broth, some vegetables. It looks extremely watered down. This hotel must not have much available. Or maybe Vash just didn’t want to use too much of what they do have on hand. Seems like something he would do. 

He swallowed a spoonful and felt a wave of emotions begin to crop up. It reminded him of something. A familiar taste. Waves of comfort washed over him and that burning ache of longing to go home settled into him. He cleared his throat and shoved more soup down as if that could drown the feelings that the first spoonful had brought up. 

He could hear Vash still rummaging around in the cabinets by the time he’d emptied the bowl. Cute little sounds of accomplishment reverberated out from the small room each time he seemed to find what he was looking for. By the time he had made it over to lean against the doorframe, Vash had positioned himself right in front of the shower with a large basin and washboard, slowly watching it fill from the spray of the showerhead. His coat had been draped on the counter, his figure in view for the first time since they had met. Tight leather hugged his sides to accentuate the natural curve of his waist, the metal ribbing only aiding in the appearance of an hourglass figure. But then… Holy shit. Poking out from underneath he could see that some of the plates that he thought were part of his clothes were grafted directly onto his skin. 

Ivory white marred with craters and valleys of peony pink; interwoven with steel grey lattices and bolts. Humanity has poisoned an angel and left their mark. Why would you want to protect everyone - spare every life - when people have done this to you? Such vile, disgusting things. I hate them. Look at what they have done to you, Vash. When his gaze shifted to Vash’s left arm, there was a thunderous wave of guilt and regret that he didn’t understand. It felt disembodied, like a sympathy pain that made him grab hold of his own arm. What horrors have you endured? Do you remember them?

Blissfully unaware of the presence of his companion in the doorway, Vash started to hum a tune that Wolfwood had never heard before. It was alluring and gentle, saturated with sadness and longing. It echoed throughout the room as if he were humming in a round with another person. He held up the soiled suit coat to examine the worst of the damage, his grip loose yet firm on the fabric before plunging it into the lightly browned water. His movements were smooth with practiced precision. 

Wolfwood cleared his throat to alert the blond to his presence, causing him to snap out of his peaceful state with a small yelp. Water splashed up and drenched his front as he applied more force into the downward thrust on the washboard than he had intended. He looked over his shoulder and squeaked out, "How long have you been standing there?" His hand instinctively began to rub at the back of his neck, head cocked to the side and that doofy grin plastered across his face.

“Long enough. What was that song?” Vash’s expression immediately dropped, though he fought to keep a smile on his face to hide behind. The change in mood hit him like a punch to the gut. I knew it couldn’t have just been a song you like. I shouldn’t have asked. You look so broken now.

“It’s an old song. One that someone very close to me used to sing all the time.” The sounds of splashing water and the ringing of the washboard started in a slow crescendo as he busied himself with his task once more. He’s running again. 

Wolfwood stepped further into the small space, sitting down beside him. He was careful to make sure that his modesty was kept, fussing over the cloth that covered his waist to make sure that nothing would show when he shifted. He gently nudged Vash with his shoulder to offer a small reassurance. “Teach it to me. It’s really soothing.” 

The priest shut his eyes and took a slow breath, waiting patiently for the song to start up again. The melody drifted in, followed by the echo from the acoustics of bathroom tile… and then a harmony that rose up from deep in Wolfwood’s mind, hesitant and half-hearted. It felt more distant than any of the other errant thoughts that had reached him as of late, like it was doing everything it could to not be heard.

The more he relaxed, the more the music began to work as a lullaby for him. Even with all of the rest he had gotten while he was unconscious it was hard to ignore the nagging aches and the pull of sleep at his mind. His head began to lull to the side, finding a pillow in the boney shoulder that slowly moved up and down as his companion tried to carefully finish the task he had taken upon himself. 

Wolfwood must have drifted off farther than he had intended. Vash had shifted away, causing his head to jolt down before his eyes snapped open and he involuntarily stiffened. Vash panicked, “Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck. Didn’t think you would sing me to sleep, Blondie. How long was I out for?”

That fluttery laugh filled the air as he looked at the wall like something interesting decorated the barren space, “Only a few minutes, honestly. I was able to finish washing your clothes just fine. You did make it a bit harder, though.” He pointed to the damp clothing that had been haphazardly thrown over the shower rod to dry, which included his coat as red as blood amongst the black and white.

Vash left the room for a moment to rummage around the bedroom before returning with a pair of grey sweatpants, still laughing like a fool. “You know, I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner! You can just wear these for tonight while your clothes dry. They’re adjustable.” He continued to look anywhere else in the room, presumably so that Wolfwood had the privacy he needed to at least get the pants on. The towel dropped to the floor as he stood before shimmying his way into them. They got caught on his hips before he loosened the bow at the front so the waistband was allowed to expand enough to crest them.  

Now that he didn't have to be wary of every small movement he made he started to adjust all of the clothes on the rod so that they could dry more evenly. The sudden silence was deafening after the room had been filled with noise for so long. “So, where is your room? I don’t expect you to watch me all night now that I’m up and moving.” Not that he was complaining. It felt nice to be pampered every once in a while, though for someone he barely knew it would be better if it were a pretty woman instead. On the other hand, Vash did make for a cute nurse. With the clothes properly arranged on the makeshift line, his next task was to return his rosary to its home around his neck. 

“Ah, right. Well, you see- uh, about that-” 

“Spit it out already, needle-noggin’” 

He watched as Vash took a dramatic breath, squaring his shoulders back and puffing up his chest before releasing it in a slow huff.  “They only offered us two rooms. One for the girls and one for us? A-at least, that was how we saw it! Sorry we didn’t ask you if that would be alright, I mean we only just met and all but you were kinda… well, you know. So… Yeah. This is our room?” The words came out in a flurry and rather than his usual cadence, his voice pitched up as if everything he was saying was a question for Wolfwood to decide what to do with rather than a statement of their situation. So the only reason you have been so insistent on being here is because there isn’t much of a choice if you want a bed tonight. Wait… 

He pushed his way between the lanky figure and the bathroom doorway to look at the hotel room once more. Two shoddy wooden chairs, a small table, something that wants to be called a couch but barely even qualifies as an upholstered chair, and nightstands on each side of… a single double wide bed. Unless we want to get worse sleep than we would on the ground outside we have to share it. The realization of this made his shower thoughts and subsequent deed come trickling back into the forefront of his mind. He was going to sleep in the same bed as his current afflatus of desire.

But his hopes started to crumble away as he watched his companion begin to gather the few pillows on what could have been his side of the bed to form a makeshift futon on the floor nearby. He even stole the seat cushion from the couch to act as a mini mattress. For the second time this day, Wolfwood found himself grabbing the man’s wrist to stop him. “What do you think you’re doing? No way I’m letting you sleep on the floor.” If anyone is going to, it’s gonna be me. After what I did - what I almost did. How I hurt you by trying to paint the town red.

“But you need the bed more. You’re still injured.” 

“No, I’m not. Just sore.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. It’s only going to make you even more so in the morning.”

“And there is no reason why that should put you on the floor. It just makes it so you wake up sore, too,” He gave a sly smirk before opting to tease a little, “‘n then who’s gonna take care of me? I’d have to take care of you instead.” 

Vash deflected it quickly with the shake of his head. His gaze cast down to the floorboards as guilt painted his features. “I say you get the bed. I’m the reason why-"

There was no way in hell Wolfwood was going to let him finish that thought. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t stop his temper from flaring up to a fight response in the blink of an eye. Because he was trying to say what the both of them knew. The very thing that had been causing tension between the two ever since Wolfwood had regained consciousness. 

“You’re not the one that fucking shot me, Spikey. Hell, it ain’t even the townsfolk’s fault. I let my guard down and got too into my own head. It’s my own damn fault I got shot.” In a huff, he started to scoop all of the pillows that Vash had meticulously placed on the floor and threw them haphazardly back onto the bed. “There is plenty of room, so get your ass in the bed.” 

He hoped that the burning he could feel in his face hadn’t manifested in a way where it would be noticeable. If it was, then hopefully Vash would be dense and assume that it was from his anger rather than how embarrassed he was to be insisting that they sleep together. Why am I pushing for this so much? Why do I feel like I need to keep him close, even as we sleep? It was deeper than just a longing to be close to him. Deeper than his need to protect him for the sake of his mission. More than that instinctual need for human connection after being alone for so long. It was because for some reason it made him feel like he had finally made his way home. He refused to let that be ripped away from him again. 

Vash stared at the pillows with reluctance before his gaze shifted back to Wolfwood’s face, his eyes searching him for something - maybe his own hesitation to the sleeping arrangement? Finally accepting defeat, he sighed and sat down on the edge to begin work on removing his shirt and pants. Both articles of clothing seemed to be mildly complicated for removal. Between all of the belts and clasps, there was so much that had to be unlatched and pulled apart, but he made quick work of it. Once he had fully released himself from his own confines he dove beneath the sheets to hide himself from Wolfwood's gaze. His head barely poked out from beneath the blankets. "Can you get the lights?"

He couldn't help but roll his eyes, who else would turn them off when you're already tucked in. "Planned on it." He slowly made his way around the bed to turn off the lamp that was within arms reach of the outlaw. When he looked down, those sky blue eyes stared back at him before quickly ducking back under the covers. He couldn’t stop himself from letting a small huff of a laugh escape before returning to his side of the bed to get himself situated. The covers felt slightly cool on his skin as he pulled them up to rest under his arm. He turned to face the wall, doing everything he could to give the man beside him as much space as possible. 

It didn’t take long before Vash’s breathing became steady. Gentle, sleep coated noises occasionally escaped from him. Wolfwood laid as still as he possibly could, waiting for sleep to find him once more.

He had no idea how long he had been laying there in silence. Their surroundings were dark enough that it made it hard to differentiate between his eyes being open and closed, the weight of his eyelids the only thing he had to go off of. The bed creaked as the weight distribution on the mattress changed. He could feel the warmth of Vash’s torso press against his back and a leg forced between his thighs. Vash was muttering something, a slight whimper in his voice and breath heated and heavy against Wolfwood’s skin. Goosebumps formed as he tried to shift away, only to feel an arm wrap around his torso and pull him closer. The leg began to shift higher, brushing against him while Vash’s face nuzzled between his shoulder blades. Shit, this is bad. What the fuck could he be dreaming about?  

It didn’t take long before a soft moan floated through the air to answer his question. No, maybe I was just imagining it. It could be that he is dreaming of food or something. There are plenty of things that could cause a sound of pleasure similar to that. Yeah, he could convince himself of that. Sleep coats the voice and can make even the most innocent of noises sound sexual. His mind was just projecting and making him believe that Vash was dreaming of him the way that he had imagined Vash earlier. Though, the more Vash moved against him the harder it was for him to ignore his growing arousal at the situation he had now found himself in. 

He could feel the other’s hips start to move against him. The breaths were growing more ragged by the second. “M…re. Pl…se.” The words were muffled, but the way Vash was squirming made it painfully difficult for him to continue convincing his imagination that the blond wasn’t dreaming about him. He tried to look over his shoulder just to make sure that he was still asleep but was only able to make out the vague shape of tousled locks of hair. 

Okay. No reason to wake him since it doesn’t seem like a nightmare, but… Fuck, there is no way I can sleep like this. If it wasn’t for the death grip around his waist he would have moved to the floor by now, but unfortunately any move he made just seemed to make his bedmate coil around him tighter. What was it that they used to say about boa constrictors? Should he just treat this like a snake attack? He tried shifting his legs first so that his thighs would no longer be forced apart. 

“Mnng. Wolfwood.” 

Wolfwood froze. He couldn’t tell if he was freezing or burning up as his body involuntarily shivered. His heart was attempting to hammer out of his chest. Ok, no. I have to wake him up. He kept his voice hushed, just in case he didn’t need to fully wake him to get this torture to stop, “Spikey.” 

The response he got was electrifying. There was a sharp intake of air before it was slowly released back out across his skin in a soft groan. Vash squeezed impossibly tighter, like he was trying to crawl into the priest's torso and make them one being. There was additional warmth between the two of them where Vash’s hips pressed against Wolfwood’s ass. If it wasn’t for the layer of cloth that kept everything contained Wolfwood would have kicked him awake and forced them both to clean up. He could feel his own cock gently weeping and the growing wetness between his thighs and the front of the sweatpants he was borrowing. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. 

Just as suddenly as everything had escalated it ended. Vash groaned again - this time coated with mild irritation and discomfort - as he released his grip around Wolfwood’s waist. It took him a moment to weasel his left arm out from underneath the priest, but once he was freed he rolled over so that their backs were to each other. The bed creaked as he squirmed around for a bit, ending with his butt in the crook of Wolfwood’s lower back before he let out a content sigh. 

It was a long and restless night, but the morning slowly, finally, crept in through the window. The thoma in the corral outside could be heard squawking and kicking up dust. Neither Wolfwood nor Vash could look the other in the eye until late in the afternoon.

Chapter Text

Every day with Vash felt special. It was almost domestic in a way, the way he would give that soft, gentle smile that hid the decades of suffering from view. The way he would say “Good morning” to all that crossed his path like he was just another civilian living a simple life. How he would play with the local kids like he had known them all their lives. Even the little things would make Wolfwood’s heart flutter. His glasses slowly sliding down his nose. The happy little noises he would make while eating. How his eyes would go wide if something confused him. Vash’s nervous laughter when he didn’t quite know what to say in response to something. Vash’s scent, which smelled of sunshine, sand, warmed leather, and something floral. His mind was almost completely overtaken with thoughts of Vash. Vash. My precious Vash.

They had grown a lot closer as friends over the past two days. They both offered to work for one of the local restaurants part-time, mostly because the owner was a pretty little thing and her situation pulled at their heartstrings. It never got terribly busy, but she seemed to appreciate having the company and extra hands to make sure that everything was spick and span.

While Wolfwood would busy himself with the stove, Vash would bus tables and attempt to entertain the few people that did come in. Thanks to the open kitchen, he could watch as the man danced between tables while he worked. It always amazed him how easy it was for the blond to become quick friends with everyone he spoke to, almost like he was just catching up with family that he hadn’t seen in years. There he goes, trusting anyone that smiles back. They will betray him sooner or later. They will use him for their own gain once his guard is down. But… Maybe he does know all of them? With all of the Dead or Alive posters plastered everywhere, he has to stay on the move. What would stop him from meeting a few kind hearts on his travels and establishing relationships along the way? I wonder if I have anyone out there that knows me… That misses me.

A gentle voice came up from behind Wolfwood, “Hey, are you okay? The rice is going to burn if you keep daydreaming, you know.” 

“Ah! Got lost in thought, I guess.” He wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve, forcing his brain to refocus on the task before him and started tossing the rice in the wok again. Luckily the boss had come by when she did or he would have needed to throw out this batch.             

But they could never completely escape their pain. When there was no longer anything that could distract them from reality they would go drinking together, the two of them desperate to forget what their lives were really like outside of these quiet moments. Before someone looking for the bounty made their way into town. Before there was any danger. When all was love and peace.

Wolfwood would force his chair to be right beside Vash’s. A bottle of whiskey, normally the cheapest one available, resting perfectly between the two of them. A friendly battle to see who could drink the most of it and leave the other one high and dry. Laughter. Warmth. Happiness. They all seemed like such foreign concepts to them and yet came so naturally when the liquid found purchase in their veins. Sometimes, Wolfwood would forgo pouring it into his whiskey glass and pull straight from the bottle, much to the protest of his companion.

“Come onnnn, Mr. Priest! You’re supposed to share!” It was so cute to hear him whine like that, his hands outstretched toward him and petting at the side of the bottle. He smirked as he let go, the bottle now completely drained of its contents. He waved his hand to call for another as Vash flipped the bottle upside down, his tongue hanging out waiting for the last drop to fall from the rim. His shoulders slumped as he gave up in the pointless endeavor, “Shouldn’t you be drinking wine or something? ‘Blood of Christ’ or whatever?” Those blue eyes looked up at him as the man draped himself over the tabletop, holding his cheek in one hand as the other drew circles, tracing the eyes in the wood.

“Whiskey, wine, I feel it’s all the same in the end. A vice humans use to feel just a little closer to God.” It would have been an impressive comment if his words weren’t slurred together and nearly unintelligible. It made him wince, his head still clear enough to register how he sounded but not enough to be able to correct it before his thoughts left his mouth. His muscles were finally relaxed, making him sway slightly in his seat while he struggled against the gravity that pulled so harshly against his now loose body.  

Meryl watched the two men in distaste while Milly laughed at nothing in particular. The insurance girls were far more casual with their drinking, mostly due to Meryl’s insistence that Milly didn’t try to keep pace with them when all of them had first started drinking. The boys quickly returned to their nonsensical babbling at each other once the next bottle had been brought over to their table. The barmaid gave the girls a quick glance and shrug as if to apologize for giving them more before returning to the bar. Meryl sighed as she rubbed at her temples, seemingly doing anything she could to stave off the headache that would inevitably develop later. “Seriously, shouldn’t the two of you slow down a little? I don’t think I can handle another night of carrying you all the way back to your room.”

Milly laughed and put her hand on Meryl’s shoulder, shaking her slightly, “Aw, lighten up, Meryl! Look at how much fun the two of them are having. I think we should try to write a book with their shoes!” She quickly drained her own glass just to try and emphasize her point, much to the disappointment of her senior. The boys both started cheering, which made the bar around them also erupt with noise as other drunken sods joined in for no reason other than because they could. 

“Woo, yeah, Milly!”

“You go, girl!”

“Slam down another one!”

“Chug, chug,chug! Hey, how ‘bout we all race?”

A chorus of voices quickly started whooping as they all raised their glasses. The barmaid bustled about to top everyone off with the same kind of beer, not caring what everyone was drinking before hand. Someone did a countdown before and the bar suddenly dropped a few decibels. There was laughing and a slowly rising ‘oooh’ from those that chose not to participate as the glasses around began to empty down gulping throats. 

Vash was the first to slam his cup down on the table with a happy puff of air. He was followed quickly by Milly and Wolfwood who practically tied. Several bodies fell over without finishing, spilling whatever was left and then clawing their way back into their chairs.

Meryl made a show of her annoyance by groaning and putting her head down on the table. She buried her face in folded arms as if blocking out any and all of her vision could transport her to somewhere more relaxing than this.

"Wow, Mr. Vash! You can drink really fast! You beat everyone here!" Milly's face was beginning to turn rosy as the quick intake slowly worked its way through her system. She slumped over with a pleased smile plastered across her lips, her cheek finding the table as she hummed. "I feel like a fluffy kitten. A bowl of milk, please~." 

Meryl sighed and got up from her chair. "Alright, Milly. We should probably get you to bed before you pass out." She started rubbing circles across the larger woman's shoulders. She was met with soft laughter and wiggles for her attempts. With a bit of effort she managed to get Milly to her feet and helped to support her as best she could. “You two better take care of yourselves tonight. I won’t be coming back for you.”  

The boys both raised a hand in acknowledgement and clinked their glasses together before downing another shot of whiskey. They couldn’t help but laugh as the girl’s stumbled their way out of the bar, the batwing door proving to be a challenge to get past as Milly tried to saddle one of them instead of pushing it open. The other patrons also seemed to get a kick out of it and those that weren’t two sheets to the wind offered their assistance.  

“Well, Needle-noggin’, this’ll likely be our last bottle for the night. Don’t think I could make it through another and manage those stairs without help.” I can’t wait to have you hanging off of me. It was hard to tell if his face was warm from the liquor or due to a blush, likely both. 

"Aww, don't be like that Wolo- Woof- Woolfwu- Woowoo-." Vash fell into a giggle fit and rested face down on the table. His hand acted as a visor when he came back up for air. "Yer name's too hard! Ish there something easier? Nick?" 

He gave an exaggerated wince and shook his head, which made the world spin for a moment. "I guess. Though it’s pretty awful." He started giggling along, Vash's laugh as infectious as the plague. God, have mercy. I don't think my heart can take it. He is just… adorable. Wolfwood took a moment to look at the ceiling, as if talking to some higher power to give him a better nickname. Something that would sound like heaven spilling from Vash's lips. Even just a vague recollection of nicknames from his childhood. Anything. Something began to bubble up. Something painful. A name that was so important to protect at all costs because of the one that gave it to him. But who gave it to him? "Nico…"

"Nico?" The way it rolled off his tongue so naturally made Wolfwood’s heart soar. He was looking at him with those puppy dog eyes, head tilted gently to the side. He practically started to sing the name, “Nico~. Nico~! It’s so cute!” Vash laughed a little before letting out a long, joy-filled sigh, his eyes trained on the priest. 

There was a long pause of comfortable silence with the two of them just staring at each other. I wish I could find the words I want to say to him. I wonder… If he feels the same. The last of their liquid courage was drained into their cups. And as they had done the night before, they gave a final toast to the bottle, the sound of their glasses clinking together ringing out above the roar of the remaining patrons. Vash babbled something out in the language of drunkards, so all Wolfwood could do was smile, nod, and laugh along.

With their final drink depleted, both left the table to resist the temptation of another round. As had happened the past two nights, Vash threw up just outside of the bar while apologizing to no one in particular, the sudden shift from sitting to moving clearly not agreeing with his inebriated body. All Wolfwood could do was rub his back and wait for his stomach to finish vacating its contents on the wall, doing all he could to not join in as the stench of stomach acid assaulted his nose. 

Vash sniffled a few times as he finished, his torso maintaining the same position as he slowly turned around. He moved so that he could put his forehead against Wolfwood's chest, the contact making warmth blossom where their skin met. He made a whining noise as he slowly raised his arms to wrap them around the priest's neck. "Woof- Nico. I can't."

"'Can't' what, Needles? Can't walk?" 

"Can't-" the next few words he said were too garbled for Wolfwood to make out as Vash rubbed his forehead against his chest before looking up at him, "-you." He had those half-lidded puppy dog eyes, shining bright in the light that leaked out of the window and doorway. Thankfully, he repeated himself, or at least continued his line of thought, “I can’t stop thinking about you. I think… I love you.” 

“I…” Wolfwood catches his words, forcing his feelings back down before it all could spill out into the night air. He isn't in his right mind. I’m not either. “I think you’re drunk. Come morning, you’ll forget about this.” I don’t want you to end up doing something we'll both regret. A part of him wants to try and hold Vash at arm's length, to physically put distance between them so that those seeds of love and comfort in his embrace can't take root. But then, there is that longing for somewhere, something, someone that he could call 'home' that makes him hold Vash tighter. He can’t risk losing Vash’s trust, and if there is too much distance between them then he will try to head out on his own again. That voice came back to remind him of his purpose. You need to stay close to him. Make him want to keep you around no matter what may happen. Just don’t get in too deep, this is still a mission for you from the Eye to bring him to me.    

Vash’s pleading brought him back from the depths of his thoughts to the present moment, “But I do! I do love you…” Vash began to straighten his back so that they could be at eye level, a pang of deja vu coursing through Wolfwood to their first adventure together two days ago. The lighting was oddly similar to that forgotten ship. The major difference between these instances was Vash’s expression being one full of longing. “Please… believe me. I can’t keep ignoring it. I don’t want to leave your side.” Vash began to move his arms from around his neck, fingertips feather light as they traced his jawline before withdrawing. “And I think… I’m running out of time to tell you…” His hands found purchase on Wolfwood’s hips, a gentle squeeze encouraging him ever closer so they could be hip to hip, chest to chest. Vash had straightened his back now, returning to his full height. Though, with the two of them so close it made Wolfwood feel impossibly small. It’s not like Vash was that much taller than him and yet now it felt like he completely towered over him.

That was the moment Wolfwood knew there was no going back. It was almost involuntary. One moment he was staring into the endless sky that rested in Vash’s eyes before his own fluttered shut and he leaned in to capture those lips, giving in to temptation. It was short, sweet as a first love could be, and left him feeling like his breath had been pulled out of him. His lips… taste like bile and the undertone of something sweet. I really should have made him drink some water first. Or even waited until we got back to the room so it wouldn’t be so… fresh.

His face must have betrayed him, since Vash quickly moved away to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. A moment of clarity must have hit him like a truck. “Oh God. I’m so sorry! That must have been gross. I’m gross. I should have waited until-” 

Now it was his turn to stumble forward and cling to Vash as he forced their bodies back together, taking fistfulls of that thick red fabric into his hands. He must have thrown himself forward with more force than he had intended to, because Vash lost his balance and staggered backward until he was up against the wall. From an outside perspective it probably looked like they were about to fight, and in a way that wouldn’t be entirely wrong. They were just a few steps away from the drying mess that had tainted the taste of Vash’s lips, but he couldn’t care less, “Shut up and kiss me, Spikey.”

The hesitation of the first kiss was quickly abandoned within this second one as they wrestled for dominance. Vash’s fingers tangled in ebony hair and gently tugged, making him crane his neck. He was being forced into submission purely through manipulation of their height difference. You may win the kiss, but once we get to the room-. Fluttering excitement and writhing nervousness erupted in his gut. If it meant that they could get to the room sooner, then he would gladly forfeit this round to the blond. He allowed himself to fall, to let himself melt and hand his wounded heart to Vash so that they could stitch it together. A gentle nip to his lips acting as a suture. Each swirl of their tongues against each other was a breath of purified air into his lungs. Wolfwood forced his leg between thin thighs, doing everything he could to get closer to the warmth of his newfound sun. Payback, in a sense, for their first night together. 

Vash whined into his mouth before pulling away, a panting mess. A single strand of saliva kept them connected before breaking. “Nico. Not here.” They both were growing impatient, but Vash was right. There were still too many patrons around, too many people enjoying the night air, too many eyes that could easily watch them even if they tried to duck away, and Wolfwood still had enough of his wits about him to keep it together until they got back to their bed.

They pulled away from each other reluctantly, Wolfwood taking slow steps backward while Vash’s hands lingered on his hips until they too finally fell away. He cleared his throat and tilted his head in a silent suggestion that they start walking. When his gaze caught those of another inebriated soul sitting against the building across the way everything in his barely rational brain screamed with embarrassment. The guy just smirked and winked, rolling a spare bottle their way with a thumbs up. Vash was the one to pick it up, tucking it away somewhere within his coat. 

They stumbled away from the light of the window, their features now illuminated only by the several moons above. The two of them would sway to and fro to follow the misperceptions of their vision with their arms wrapped around the other so that they didn’t drift too far apart. The blond began to hum something that could barely classify itself as a tune, his movements becoming slightly more excessive than those of a drunkard. 

Vash tripped over his own foot, letting out an exaggerated yelp as he flailed his free arm in an effort to counterbalance. His shoe turned on the sand and he grasped at Wolfwood in desperation. The priest grabbed his wrist and wrapped his other arm around Vash’s waist to keep him from hitting the ground. With all technique and no grace, the two had ended in a dip, as if they had been dancing together in the moonlight all this time. When the blond realized that he was no longer falling, he released all the tension he held in his core, his back bending and unwittingly deadweighting on Wolfwood’s arm. 

He could feel his grasp slipping, and while it would be funny to just drop him then and there, it also felt like it would ruin the mood completely. He gritted his teeth, “Yer heavy when you do that, Blondie!” With whatever strength he could muster into his retaliating muscles, he yanked Vash upright, the other limply flopping against his chest.

“Uwaaa! Don’t move me so fast, I’ll throw up!” Vash was pouting at him, the corners of his mouth still curled slightly like he was fighting away his usual smile. He plopped his chin down on Wolfwood’s shoulder, letting his chest heave in a mock imitation of his threat. It quickly ended in a lighthearted giggle as he nuzzled the crook of the priest’s neck, his face surprisingly cool despite how flushed it was. 

Wolfwood grabbed Vash by the shoulders and pushed him away, unable to hide a smile, “Easy now. We still gotta get back, remember?” He slid his hands down the length of Vash’s biceps before starting to saunter on. Something about the constant back and forth, the anticipation that came with them taking their time, was only helping to make this feel like the right choice. That they both wanted each other not just for the night. That this wasn’t just a haphazard hookup to relieve their individual frustrations.

Vash quickly reclaimed his place hanging off of his shoulders, all giggles and nonsensical rambling as they walked into the building they inhabited. The woman working the desk tonight had her smile quickly shift to be much more forced when she realized that it was them, having grown used to seeing the same sorry sight these past few nights. It almost contrasted the vitriol that leaked from her voice, “Enjoying your speedy recovery in the same way as always, I see.” She didn’t even wait for either of them to respond before leaving her post to do something in the backroom instead, the door slamming shut behind her.

Vash whistled before scratching at the back of his head nervously, “Wow, she’s in a bad mood tonight, huh? Normally she laughs at us a little before leaving.” He removed himself from Wolfwood’s shoulders to start his trek, holding the handrail like his life depended on it. 

There was a bit of a technique that Wolfwood had developed last night, taking the time to kick the riser before putting his foot down fully on the tread below. It seemed to work quite well; the chances of him tripping over a step or having his foot slip off the edge minimized, so he opted to repeat it again tonight. He made quick work of the stairs, only stumbling once when he had to let go of the guard rail to pass Vash. Upon reaching the top he turned around to see that the other had only hit about halfway. The way that Vash was hunched over, legs shaking with every step and taking measured breaths in concentration was hilarious. “You might as well climb up like a dog with how far you’re bending over.” 

Apparently his teasing actually offered a great idea, because Vash resorted to doing just that. He let go of the rail and climbed the steps at double his original pace, each slap of a hand on hardwood followed by the heavy thunk of his boot. He sat in front of Wolfwood with his hands between his knees, fingers curled so they were more paw-like. A big smile spread across his face. Wolfwood knelt down and ruffled his hair, “What a good boy.” A curious response came from Vash as he shuddered, face slowly trying to match his coat. Oh, I’m definitely going to use that tonight. His body started moving on autopilot, pulling Vash to his feet and getting them into their shared room without further delay. 

The door clicked closed, quickly followed by the reassuring snap of the bolt lock. Vash was pressed up against his back, hands wandering his torso in a clumsy search for buttons while lips planted kisses up his neck. His head was already swimming, every complete thought he tried to pull free quickly shattered into nothing more than carnal wants and needs. A want to take things slow and savour every second. A need to rush in and take anything and everything Vash had to offer him. A want for the world to melt away and for this moment to be his eternity. A need for Vash on his tongue. A want. A need. Nothing but desire. 

A breathy whisper tickled the shell of his ear, “Wolfwood… I need you.” Buttons finally began to fall free, the reassuring tension of fabric against his torso slowly falling loose. Vash pressed himself harder against his back and moved his hips in search of friction. Wolfwood’s temporary sobriety slipped away into the haze of drunken lust. He fell against the door using his forearms as a brace while Vash continued to tease him. Long fingers finally found a rhythm in releasing buttons, the now loose fabric sliding down his shoulders to bunch up at his elbows with Vash’s assistance. “You’re so pretty right now, you know.” Soft lips continued to worship his bare skin. It felt like a hot coal plummeted through his body when teeth grazed the nape of his neck, quickly followed by the swipe of a tongue. Vash practically purred at the reaction. 

Need would always take precedence over wants. He couldn’t allow himself to unravel so quickly. Wolfwood wasn’t sure how he had managed it, just that the room had blurred and then their positions were reversed. It really was just like a dream. His coat and shirt were discarded by the door and he had Vash pressed to the wall, fingers tangled in blonde hair while his other hand held Vash’s wrist above his head. Keeping his wrist pinned, he released the grip his other hand had and began to mirror the motions that he had received just seconds ago, but he was able to execute it with more grace. 

Unlike Vash, he wasn’t a sloppy drunk and could force his dexterity to be almost normal if he took it slow. The leather coat slid down like a dress, the crimson tails now laying in a messy heap at their feet. Vash wiggled his right arm free of the sleeve before flexing his left wrist in a silent request for Wolfwood to release him. He only needed his mouth to keep the taller male pressed against the wall in submission now, so he obliged. Each little nip he delivered down Vash's neck was met with a cute little hum of pleasure. With the red coat discarded in a heap on the floor, he was no longer with The Humanoid Typhoon. Just his beautiful angel, Vash.

Wolfwood’s hands started to trace the outline of Vash’s body, feeling every curve of that hourglass figure that he hid under his massive coat. His fingers stalled on the metal plates that were part of his chestpiece. He didn’t even know if that was the right thing to call whatever was covering his torso, but the more pressing issue was that he had no idea how he was supposed to peel it off of him. Subconsciously he pressed himself further against Vash, his hands abandoning the metal plates in favor of following the dip of his waist. Pants are so much easier for his brain to process when running at a quarter of its normal capacity.

Despite all of the belts and clasps, they were no different than any other pair of pants. They were just a lot tighter. So tight that even with the button and fly undone his hand still barely managed to slot in. Something was missing as his fingers played against bare skin. No underwear. Vash shuddered against him, moving his legs apart in invitation only to make the fabric dig into Wolfwood's skin.

It only helped to stoke the fire building. He was being denied by an article of clothing and hadn't even managed to fully touch the holy land yet. So close to heaven but it stayed just out of reach. His mind was full of half-baked ideas of everything they should be doing, how this should be playing out. His head felt like it was spinning. Desperation leaked into his voice as he tried to move his hand just a little. "Vash, fuck. I need you. I want you. Please."

Vash turned his head to look into his eyes. Heavy blush against his porcelain skin, and yet a coy look in his eyes and a smirk painted across plush lips. He hummed before looping a thumb into the waistband to shimmy them down a little lower while his other hand wrapped around Wolfwood's wrist. The ball was back in Vash's court, easily taking back control as he ground his hips back against Wolfwood, forcing his hand down so that he could finally feel more than just the base of his cock. "You're so cute when you beg, Nico. Let me hear more~."

Dizzy. Those words hit him like a truck, throwing him off balance both mentally and physically. He couldn't tell if the feeling in his chest was from the pure nervous embarrassment that cascaded through him or if it was the nausea from the excessive amount of alcohol he’d drank earlier. Vash must have noticed his expression change or something. 

The world blurred again. Maybe he blacked out for a second, maybe a minute. Either way, neither of them were standing anymore. Vash had moved him to lay down across the bed while he sat beside him. Pants still undone, cock still hard, but sans that top he had on. He was gently petting Wolfwood’s chest in an attempt to soothe him, "Are you alright, Nico? You don't need to push yourself." 

"'M fine. Jus-” There was a bubbling in his throat that forced him to stop. It took effort to swallow it back down. “Ugh, shit. Started feelin' it all’uva sudden." Wolfwood threw his arms over his face to try to block out the minimal lighting of the room for a moment. He needed to get his bearings, reset a little, get the headrush to subside just enough for them to continue. Lord knows he was going to fulfill his desire for Vash tonight and a little slip up like this was not going to put a stop to what they had started. With how concerned Vash was now, he spoke his mind despite the embarrassment that still rippled through his core to be sure that he didn’t get the wrong idea, “You’re still hard. I’m still hard. We need to take care of that.” Eloquent, Wolfwood. “I mean… I want to. Just can’t stand anymore.”

Vash helped him sit up, his vision leaving afterimages as he moved, details smudging into their new positions before returning to full clarity. How had he managed for so long if he was this fucked up? “I don’t think moving too quickly is going to be in your best interest either. I’m not interested in having you throw up while we have sex.” Vash started to undo some of the belts along his thighs. It was clear that he was still struggling from the alcohol as well, his upper body bobbing slightly back and forth, torso jolting from the occasional hiccup. After a small pause, he continued, “There is something that we can do, though. Doesn’t make us move too much, will satisfy our desires, works well enough for a first time.” With a clatter against the hardwood below, Vash was left bare before him. Inviting and radiant, with a smile like a blessing playing at his lips.  

Wolfwood got the silent message that lay in those sparkling blue eyes and did as he had since they got behind closed doors. He followed Vash's example. Mimicked his movements with his own personal flare. He could feel eyes on him, taking in every aspect of his body as if this were the first time Vash had seen him. It was akin to that of a painter watching his muse, drinking up every detail to recreate a perfect image. 

Eyes lingered, a comment slipping from his lips that Wolfwood doubted he intended to say aloud, “Fuck, you’re big.” Vash’s smile shifted, mischievous before he took action, carefully hooking his right leg over the priest’s left. He slipped his other leg beneath the right of Wolfwood and pulled their bodies close. Their cocks kissed, a gentle touch as they rested against one another. The two of them huffed out a breath in unison, the relief of finally feeling direct contact with the other exhilarating in its own way. 

Wolfwood shifted slightly, his body instinctively chasing after any sort of friction it could find, yet there was uncertainty. While he could imagine what they would do, what he wanted, he couldn’t bring himself to take action now. He had never actually been with another person before. At least, not that he knew of. Vash was looking to him, mouth slightly open and pupils eclipsing the iris. Please, take the lead. Guide me in this. His voice came out no more than a husky whisper, “Go ahead, Vash.”

The blond nodded, covering his mouth with the organic hand. There was a ripple in his throat muscles and when he pulled his hand away there was a thin strand of saliva connecting his palm to his tongue. A heavy swallow. Slowly reaching down between them before cautiously taking the both of them into his gentle grasp. His fingers barely managed to reach far enough, giving the illusion of a tight hole as he applied a small amount of pressure. 

Vash's movements started slow, methodical, and cautious. All to get a feel for what he was doing and to help spread the impromptu lubricant. Their cocks were already weeping with precum, which he would collect on the upstroke before spreading down. Wolfwood tried to hold back all of his noises, keeping them to little more than pants and hushed groans. That’s when Vash picked up the pace, his own noises of pleasure spilling out as he tried to milk them out of the priest. “Ah, Nico. Don’t- Hnn~ Don’t hold back. I want to hear you.” 

So he tried. Tried to just lose himself in the moment and let those embarrassing moans rumble out from his throat. Vash responded in kind, growing louder to overpower the squelching wet noises that emanated from his hand as he picked up momentum. Another request, this one breathy and low, “Nick- Ah! Nico. Talk to me. Is this good?” 

He’s close. Fuck. Think I am, too. Wolfwood swallowed down the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. It felt strange to not be doing anything and yet have his chest heaving. Vash adjusted his grip slightly to focus on their heads, enough of a change for it to send new shockwaves through his spine, “S-Shit. There. That’s good.” If I’m this close… I wonder if I just- Wolfwood repositioned himself slightly, leaning back with one hand acting as a brace on the bed behind him while the other took to where Vash’s once was. He set the pace as a nice middle ground. Vash’s movements staggered for a moment as he jolted and hummed out a long moan. That’s what I wanted to hear. Wolfwood couldn’t help but follow suit, groaning before letting those words he had been saving growl out of him, “G-Good boy.” 

Two words were all it took. With just two words Vash turned to putty in his hand, mewling as he chased after his peak. Both of his hands were now occupied in the task of keeping him upright while he thrust into Wolfwood’s hand. 

The two of them flopped onto the pillows, completely spent. Too warm and comfortable to clean up properly, they used one of the thin sheets to wipe off their mess and toss it onto the floor. The cleaning staff will definitely hate them now, but surely this wasn’t the first time they’d have had to wash the sheets free of their spunk. Vash snuggled against him, his body slotting against his side like a puzzle piece. His head found its home on his sternum, ear pressed up to it where he could listen closely to the thrum of his heart. He hummed in satisfaction, nuzzling into the spot. “Your heartbeat is so comforting. A sign that you are still alive.” 

“It feels like I died a long time ago…” 

“How so?” 

“Well…” Could he really trust him with what little of his past he had? Could he trust him with the knowledge that his memories could disappear at any moment should he drink that electric blue liquid that he had hidden away on his person when they were out? If he didn’t, would he ever be able to? He took a deep breath. If he was going to bare his soul to anyone, he would want it to be Vash. Now or never, and he chose now. “I… have been losing my memories. Sometimes, I get the vague feeling that I know something. Emotions associated with places, certain details clear but the rest blurry and unrecognizable, that kind of thing.”

“Well, what if I help you remember when you forget?” What? Vash rolled so that he could be splayed on top of him, their legs tangled together in an oddly comfortable array. He moved his arms to be crossed over Wolfwood’s chest so he could dig his chin into the back of his own hand while he stared up at him. “If you tell me everything that you know about yourself, when you forget I can check and see how much you remember. Then, I can help fill in those gaps for you, at least a little.” Heavens above, why have you blessed me with this perfect angel? Vash moved his hand to the side so that he could return his head to its previous position, a soft giggle escaping him as that genuine smile blossomed, “Your heart is pounding now. Does it make you nervous? Or are you so happy your heart is beginning to soar?” 

"Happy. But… Do you really want to do that?" 

Vash began to move his index finger in small circles, "Of course I do. Because I love you. How else would I be able to prove how much I truly do when you forget?" His eyes started to slowly drift close as a small kitten yawn escaped him. He started to mumble, all of his words slurring together as his body began to melt into sleep, “I’ll help you remember every time. As long as I can spend my tomorrows with you, I’ll do whatever I have to to keep you with me.”

Wolfwood could feel himself starting to drift off too, the warm afterglow helping where the effects of alcohol failed. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel the need to try and fight against sleep. He had the reassuring weight of Vash there with him.

If only their lives had played out differently in some way. If the world that they lived in wasn’t all guns and glory.

Morning had found them, and with it came the dangers that Gunsmoke had to offer. Peaceful days could only last for so long. The air itself seemed to thicken and no wind blew through the once quiet town. Windows shattered, glass flying through the air and glistening on the floor. Bodies scrambled for cover and the haphazardly thrown together group of four left the building to assess the situation. Booming voices bellowed around them. Time vanished, everything changing so quickly and yet so painfully slow. 

Smoke. Dust. The smell of gunpowder, burning skin, and desert heat. Buildings had crumbled like they were made from the sand itself. Disaster followed them, or rather it followed Vash and affected all those that stayed by his side. In the scuffle of the ambush, they had been separated, but Wolfwood knew deep down that he had nothing to worry about. The infamous outlaw would surely come out victorious. The insurance girls were great at holding their own and knew when to stay out of harm's way. But unfortunately for the priest, he didn’t have the same uncanny ability to dodge bullets that sprayed out of the end of a submachine gun or the internal voice of reason to tell him when he should cut his losses and run. He managed to evade his pursuers and duck into the rubble of what used to be a building. I can’t die here. Not yet. Coughing pushed more blood out of the wounds that riddled his torso. His pulse ripped through his being and gushed out of his skin in waves. I have to use it. I have to use one if I want to get out of this. 

With hesitant hands, he fumbled with his jacket. The cool glass graced his fingers, bitter fluid resting safely inside. Taunting him. Mocking him. He took a slow, heavy breath and placed the vial between his teeth. It doesn’t matter . Stabbing pain shot through his gums followed by the  fierce sting as he tilted his head back. It went down smooth as sandpaper, burning in a toxic way down his throat and into the pit of his stomach. The glistening shards stained red clattered to the ground and broke into even smaller pieces of stardust. The wounds began to stitch themselves shut. His heart rate increased rapidly and painfully. It felt like being struck by lightning, spine tingling, pupils blown wide before dilating to pin pricks. His head pounded as the sunlight took a frontal assault against him. He got to his feet as the world tried to pull him back down. It swayed and his body initially tried to go with it before he was able to catch himself, arms limp at his sides, head hung low. He let out a slow, deep growl of a breath that slowly turned into a dark chuckle. That all too familiar fog began to fill his head. “I won’t go down easy,” was his quiet promise to the whole damned world. He took the Punisher into his grip and stepped out from behind the rubble.

Hulking bodies stood waiting for him to pop his head out. They laughed like hyenas and readied their aim on the wolf pup that had seemingly ran off with his tail between his legs. They hadn’t expected his fangs to be bared when he reared his head again, running headlong toward them, the large cross now a battering ram. The roundest of them took the heavenly gold rain that spilled out at point blank range and then the full force of the gun connected with his mutilated torso, knocking the wind out of him as he fell back.  Now, he was the only mad man still laughing as the red juices splashed onto his face to mix with what was already dried. The smaller members of the enemy pack stood in shock, witnessing as this hellish beast in priest’s clothing moved with renewed vigor. 

He kept low to the ground as he focused on keeping any and all of his momentum. He pivoted to the right, using the turn of his torso to swing the cross around with a flourish across his shoulders. One of the arms of the cross connected with a loud crack and a jaw was broken right at the hinge. Screams began to drown out his laughter. The flat smashed into a more lithe body and sent it flying across the sand, the weapon that had once been wielded against him burying itself like a warning. Some began to flee, others wanted to prove their might and stood their ground before the impending shadow of God.

Loud thunder cracks began to sound in rapid succession. Bullets slammed against him, the holes that formed quickly closing and pushing the bullets out onto the desert floor in the process. Annoying. I'll end this. That red flare had joined him at some point, disarming a few of the betas by breaking their thumbs. He followed up by throwing his whole body into one while he was distracted staring at the injury, causing them both to tumble through the sand. His crimson ally was beside him with another one pinned beneath him, likely having done something similar in sync. There was a limp limb twisted between his claws. There was something entrancing about seeing the way that it flopped to the ground when he dropped it, bending against nature’s design. 

There was a distressed whine from the one that he was on top of, a plea for mercy that fell on deaf ears as Wolfwood focused his attention back on the target. His fists came hammering down into their skull. He felt the tear and tug at his skin as his knuckles burst open and then rapidly weaved themselves shut over and over again. Even as the face slowly morphed into something no longer recognizable as having belonged to the body it was attached to, he persisted in pulverizing it. He has too. He needs to. The need keeps building. His fists no longer feel like they are good enough. Wolfwood pulled his body to its feet and stumbled over to where The Punisher lay flat in the sand. He shoved his claws into the skull-like handle and flexed each finger to hoist it back up. 

There was a shout before Red slammed into him in an effort to knock him off kilter, to stop the mutilation of the unconscious creature. His claws try desperately to pry the cross out of his grasp. This foolish behavior needs to end. An example needs to be made.  Wolfwood tried to shove him aside, to get around him to tear into the downed prey and eat his fill, but Red just kept pushing him back. Slowing him down. Staying in his line of sight to block out the world around them. The focus on the red coat began to solidify into familiarity. Things began to blur, his head pounding in retaliation and forcing him to kneel. All of the pain came flooding to his senses, knocking the air from his lungs. 

And Vash followed him down.          

Vash had pulled him into a tight hug, holding his head firmly against his chest. The haze slowly cleared from his mind. His heart rate returned to a normal pace once more. The air stopped feeling so thick. Calm. All was quiet. He was surrounded by so much red, and yet it felt more like a field of flowers than a sea of blood. Words of encouragement floated softly to his ears. “I’ve got you, Nico. I’ve got you. You can calm down now.” He could feel the magma hot tension melt out of his shoulders, his body relaxing into the humanoid typhoon’s gentle embrace.

That was how he’d met him. Vash the Stampede. The man he had been sent to guide.

To… keep an eye on. To protect.

Bring Vash to me alive. Don’t forget.

That’s right. I want to keep him safe.  

"Can you stand? We need to get out of here. I…" He could hear Vash's voice catch painfully in his throat, his words quivering. He abandoned the initial line in favor of a new reason, "We need to get somewhere safe." He could see the discomfort with the scene laid out before them painted across Vash’s features, the red streak on his face reflected back at him in the once gentle eyes that were now clouded with fear.  

Wolfwood's gaze slowly traveled away from the man before him. Following along the path of bloodsoaked sand to the mangled… thing. It could barely even be recognized as human anymore with the way that its skull was caved in, face swollen and bloody. Its limbs lay in an unnatural array, contorted and with far too many joints. His hand drifted to his rosary. He couldn't control the shaking as he shut his eyes tight and turned his head away. For the first time in ages, Wolfwood prayed for the dead. Prayed for forgiveness for the poor soul that once walked this earth. Prayed for retribution against the monster that had torn through the sand here. What happened here? Did… I do this? "Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace." A single tear broke free, slowly traveling down his face and staining red before falling. "Amen."

"Wolfwood…" Vash called to him with a fractured heart. The priest slowly raised his head and released the burning cross from his grasp, letting it thud pitifully against his chest on its way back to its rightful place. Vash cupped his cheeks and forced their foreheads to meet. Was he going to cry? Or had he been crying with tears that had long run dry? He couldn’t tell; the suns were too bright behind him. “Don’t look… Don’t look again. We need to get going before anyone from town sees.” 

Vash gently helped Wolfwood to his feet once more, the grasp on his arm and around his waist like he was handling a wounded animal. Every move seemed hesitant, like he was concerned that the monster was still lurking, waiting for a chance to strike. Vash went to pick up the Punisher. Something in Wolfwood filled him with the energy to be able to lunge forward to grab him by the shoulder. That’s mine. I can’t let someone else carry it. “Hey, I’m alright. Let me-” 

“I know how heavy it is. You can barely stand and you expect me to believe that you will be able to lug it along on your own?” Before either of them could get another word out, two girls called out to them and came rushing over. The taller one was carrying the cloth cover while the other had all of the straps that held it in place. I know them, don’t I? Yeah. I’m just shaken up. Their names will come back to me. 

“There you two are! I was worried you had left us behind. Is-” The short girl with black hair lost her voice, her face quickly turning pale as she finally registered everything around them.  Her mouth was still open in a silent scream, her body forced her to freeze. Her eyes kept darting around, taking everything in and trying desperately to make it all make sense. 

Her friend dropped the large cloth and clung to her instead, hiding her face in the white fabric of her cloak. “M-Mr. Vash, Mr. Priest, Ms. Meryl! H-his body! W-why would it- What- How?” The boys both moved in unison toward them; Vash focusing on trying to comfort them while Wolfwood grabbed his things so that he could wrap the cross and ready himself for travel. It took him a moment to get the muscle memory to cooperate with him, the size of the cloth daunting as he kept rotating it in hopes that one of the configurations would help draw the memory back to the surface. Or maybe he always struggled with getting the cover back on? It’s not like he got in fights like these often, right? He listened in on the conversation while he set to work. 

"No time to explain. Wolfwood and I are going to leave. Please don't follow us. I can't protect you both." 

"We can handle ourselves just fine! Besides, it is our job to report-"

"I know, but why don't you go back and say that it’s too dangerous? Get a safer case or something."

"Mr. Vash, please. We like traveling with you. We want to help you erase your name!" 

"It's 'clear your name', Milly. But, she's right, Vash. We don't want people hunting you down, especially since they shouldn't with the $$60 Billion bounty no longer in effect."

$$60 Billion? How the hell did he manage something like that? Although… Wolfwood couldn't help but sneak a glance toward the remains of Mei that lay behind them, now partially crumbled and returned to the sand of the planet. If every place he comes across ends up like this, I can see why. 

He could hear the short one - Meryl - continue to complain, "If you are so worried about needing to protect others, why does Wolfwood get to stay with you?" That piqued his interest, making him turn just enough to look at the group. 

Vash had that angelic, soft smile on his lips as their eyes met. “Well… That’s because we make a great team.” There were so many words left unspoken, a deeper meaning hidden behind something so juvenile as the word ‘team’. The girls didn’t need to know. There was no reason to let them in on the inner workings of their newfound relationship. Vash needed Wolfwood just as much as he needed Vash and there was no way for them to go back to the way things were before their paths had crossed.

Meryl smirked, seeming rather proud of herself. There was a sparkle in her eye that made it clear that she had a plan, “Alright. Fine. Milly and I aren’t following you, then. We just so happen to be going the same direction.” 

“But if we aren’t following Mr.Vash, where are we going, Meryl?” And then that pride quickly melted into a disgruntled groan with a simple question from her junior.  While it was a tad comical, he didn’t care to pay close attention to the two of them banter. That guiding voice drowned out all distractions to issue his new instructions.

Bring Vash to Jenora Rock. Don’t draw too much unwanted attention. You can take your time, find a nice place to rest along the way. He’s going to need it. There was a cruel sense of schadenfreude to those final words. 

What is going to happen in Jenora Rock? His question was met with a frigid chuckle that was punctuated with the snap of the last strap needed for Punisher to be travel ready. Fine, not like he has any choice in the matter. If he doesn’t listen to the voice in his head then the only other option he has is to follow Vash around No Man’s Land until they inevitably end up right where He wants them.

Wolfwood rose from his knees, bringing the cross up with him so that it could find its home between his shoulders. "Don't care where you are heading, but we better get a move on before we lose daylight." He started dragging his feet through the sand. Away from the carnage, away from the town that had lost all of its comfort in a matter of moments, away from the destruction of buildings and the lives that had swiftly been turned on their heads. It didn’t matter to him what direction they went in because what difference would it make when he didn’t know where the nearest town or village was. Vash had brought him here just fine and before that… Well, he had survived. The details didn’t matter anymore.

A rising curiosity came with each thunk of his pockets against his torso. Sure, there was the familiar shape of a box of cigarettes and a lighter against his breast, but there was something heavier against his hip. Something that was kept in a hidden pocket of the inner lining that he didn’t recognize. Upon investigation, it was a leather pouch that held vials of electric blue liquid that almost glowed in the shade of his clothes. He didn’t dare to bring it out, there was a feeling that he should keep them hidden. Those are only to be used as a last resort. A pounding in his head made his vision blur. Bubbling nausea ascended his throat and stung at the back of his esophagus. He swallowed it down. He ran his fingers over the vials slowly, counting with each bump against them, 1, 2… 3… 4, 5. Five? He could feel that there were empty slots between some of them. As he traced the holes, he could feel where the leather had cracked to stretch around something, molded to a cylindrical shape.  

There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, but it didn’t stop him from walking, rather the lanky man that it belonged to kept pace with him. He leaned his torso so that he could be in the priest’s peripheral, “Wolfwood? Everything alright?” Vash’s brows were furrowed with concern, head cocked slightly to the side. His eyes flicked down to where Wolfwood’s hand was disappearing into his coat and then back.    

He quickly withdrew his hand and ran it over his face. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m alright. Just checking on something.” Dried blood came off in flakes, sticking to the sweat of his palm. 

Even so, Vash took his hand and smiled. He began to lead him, making them shift so they were heading more to the north. “This way. It’s going to suck today, but at least in the morning the suns will be at our backs. Plus, I think there is an outpost that we can get to before nightfall.” He set a quick pace, not one that was too difficult for the priest to keep up with but one that would not be ideal for them to maintain the whole way with the cross weighing him down.  

Vash pointed to the sand dune ahead of them with childlike mischief in his eyes, releasing Wolfwood’s hand from his grasp, “Hey, let’s get out of our heads. Race you to the top!” He took off with a goofy gait, swinging his legs awkwardly to practically hop through the sand. Maybe it was to make things a little more fair or maybe he just wanted to make himself a jester to improve morale. Regardless, Wolfwood followed suit. After a few steps of him trying to run naturally, it was painfully clear that there was too much resistance. He kept stumbling, his feet losing traction. He changed tactics to mimic Vash, turning his foot slightly outward so there was more surface area for him to push off of. It was obvious that Vash had slowed down part way so that he could catch up. His laugh was contagious as always. 

When he had gotten close enough to reach out and touch him, the crimson clad fool began running again. It started to feel more like a game of tag; Vash stopping to taunt him but always staying just ahead of him. The priest smirked when he was able to reach out and grab one of the tails that trailed behind him. He yanked it, making Vash yelp as he lost his balance and fell face first, sliding down the dune a little before resorting to crawling quickly uphill like a bug. He managed to wrap his thin fingers around the priest’s exposed ankle, giving him a taste of his own medicine. The taste of minerals on his tongue and feeling of grit in his teeth dried out his mouth, yet for once it wasn’t all unpleasant because it was part of the fun that Vash was showing him. In the end, they had tied, their legs giving out at the top of the dune. Together they tumbled down the other side, all speed and no grace.    

They laid there in the shade, Mei finally out of sight. The previous events of the day both literally and figuratively behind them. They stared up at the endless blue of the sky. Vash’s hand found his again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His laugh had dried out to little more than a wheeze before the rest of the air released in a contented sigh. “I believe it is safe to say that I won.”

“You wish. It was a draw, Spikey.” His legs were sore and pulsed with his heartbeat. Everything in him begged for a break, for rest that he couldn’t offer himself. They laid there in silence, staring up at the endless blue above and soaking in the peaceful atmosphere.  

With a groan, he sat upright and began to brush off all of the dust that clung to his sleeves. The whole motion was redundant since he would inevitably get covered in more sand and dust with a single gust of wind, but it felt wrong to leave it alone. His back had grown stiff from laying unmoving on the ground, but at least the pulsing in his legs had dulled.   

Meryl slid down the dune carefully with Milly close behind. “You two are hopeless. What would you do without us, huh?” 

“Special delivery! We figured that you two would be thirsty after you ran off. Sooo…Tada!”  Milly offered a waterskin to the boys who looked at her like she had just offered a sip from the holy grail. The outside of them were still damp like they had just been filled. Did they go back there just to fill these for us?

Meryl sighed as she watched them both completely decimate the contents. “I bet you two didn’t even think about supplies.”

Vash laughed nervously, “I mean… I have food covered, I just always forget about refilling things for water.” Meryl’s face contorted in disgust, clearly wondering how he had managed to survive this long. Her gaze then turned on Wolfwood, waiting for his excuse like she expected his to be just as unbelievably idiotic.

All he could do was offer her silence. There was no way that she would understand any truth he had to offer, nor did he have the mental energy to come up with a witty lie. All I wanted to do was run. Something bad happened back there and I must have been involved. He could see her expression quickly soften into something akin to regret before offering her hand, “I think we should keep moving. Don’t you agree?” 

Wolfwood accepted her hand, allowing her to help pull him back to his feet and brush the sand from his back. He could see Milly do the same to Vash from his peripheral, the two of them having a hushed conversation while occasionally glancing their way and giggling. Whatever gossip they were sharing must have been nothing serious. 

The merry band of four walk for hours in hopes that no trouble would cross their path. For better or worse, it seemed that they were the only souls foolish enough to attempt long distance travel by foot. The only thing that could make things interesting was the inevitable chase after a mirage or the thought that there was something waiting for them in the distance, but there was never anything there. It was hours before they were able to see the single windmill that landmarked their destination.  Just as Vash had promised they were able to reach an outpost when the first moon had breached the horizon line and stars were beginning to speckle the sky.

There were only 8 buildings in total, which made it feel awkward for them to be intruding on the inhabitant’s space. Something akin to a general store for those passing through, a few residential homes, and something that might be a Bed and Breakfast but was lacking in proper signage. There was a single well that likely acted as the town’s main source of water when they were unable to acquire any from traders. An ile from here was a rock structure that seemed to help provide shade over the buildings during the hottest hours of the day or evacuate to when there was sandworm activity. Meryl was the one to ask Vash the question that was on everyone’s mind, “Are you sure they are going to let us stay here? How do you know they won’t chase you out?”

“You just have to trust me.” He replied with his signature smile. Hidden within was that hesitation, the doubt in his own words that he hoped no one could see. Stop hiding behind that smile. All it does is break you further. Vash pushed his way into the building, a small bell ringing over their heads as they followed him into the open lobby. It was a rather small space, just wide enough for the four of them to stand comfortably side-by-side. There are three paces from the door to the presumed reception desk and hallways to the left and right that are lined with a few doors. Vash called out, "Hellooo! Anyone hooome?"   

A voice saturated with age sounded back, an older woman with a cane slowly rounding the corner with her gaze fixed on the ground. Her hair still has some auburn colour to it, though the grey was quickly overtaking it. Stress lines had been carved into her features, taking permanent residence down her cheeks and at the corners of her mouth.  "Coming! Hold your thoma, I'm coming! Welc- Vash?!" Now behind the desk and looking at the group her back straightens while she pushes her glasses up in bewilderment. She blinks a few times as if the people before her might disappear, "Is that really you? You haven't aged a day!"

"Neither have you, Ms. Isabelle." He slowly moves around the desk to pull her into a careful hug. She guffaws but doesn’t fight his attempt at a compliment as she returns the gesture.  "I brought some friends with me this time. I hope that's alright?"

The woman pinches Vash’s cheek playfully, “Nonsense, honey! I would have chased you and your lot out already if it wasn’t.” Wolfwood could feel a pang of longing settling into his chest at the sight of their banter. He tried to recall something, any kind of memory no matter how vague to explain it, yet came up hopelessly hollow. Isabelle was the first to pull away, returning her grip to the cane she had so carefully propped against the lip of the countertop as she turned her attention to the three that stood back. With a tilt of her chin, she signaled for them to follow her down the right hall, every other step accented by the cane striking the hardwood. “I assume you would each prefer a room to yourselves, but sorry to say that that won’t be happening. I only have three rooms available in this building and, if I may be a little selfish, would like to keep at least one vacant for a paying customer.”

Meryl cut in, her voice sounding mildly panicked, “Oh, no, ma’am! We had no intention in asking you to let us stay for free. We just happened to be traveling in the same direction as Vash, anyway. A-And Milly and I are perfectly happy staying together, isn’t that right, Milly?”

Milly nodded in agreement, “Right! My mama always told me: ‘never look a jolly thomas in the eyes’ and we can definitely pay any price you may give us." She was practically bubbling with excitement, swaying back and forth with each step. "If you need, I'm sure all four of us could happily share a room, too. It would be like a slumber party!”

"Now, now, girls. A friend of Vash's ‘s a friend of mine. I wouldn't feel right making you pay while in his company when I owe him so much already." Isabelle took a moment to look over all of them again, her gaze quizzical on the second passover. What exactly she was looking for was unclear, but whatever it was must not have been there. "Two rooms s’no trouble at all. We don't see many folks out here anyway. I'm sure y'all wouldn't have much fun fightin' over just one bathroom neither."

At least some people are grateful for his kindness. The doors at the end of the hall each had a number on them, likely so she could keep track of guests in a ledger easily.  The ones they would be occupying were rooms 2 and 3, the one that was to remain open in hopes of another guest somewhere else in the building so that they wouldn’t be disturbed should things go awry. The walls around the entryway to 3 had obvious spackling with most of the patchwork centralized around the doorframe. The door itself didn’t match the one across the hall, either, which meant that whatever had happened destroyed the original beyond repair. Vash runs his hand over the bumpy surface with a dejected expression yet remains silent. His words would not be able to undo the past. Isabelle rubbed his back like she was comforting her own child, “Don’t look so down, dearie. Collateral happens no matter what you do. I would like you to stay in there again, though, considerin’ your company is bound to attract some unsavory types.” 

Vash’s voice sounds so distant, so shattered even as he continues to smile, “Thank you, Isabelle.” He shuffles into the room without another word, Wolfwood falling into step behind him. He nods to her in thanks as he passes, the motion returned to him. There was a look in her eyes that flashed like a warning a protective parent would give to someone wanting to take their child out on a date, something akin to ‘break his heart and I’ll break you’. 

Wolfwood closed the door and locked it behind him. This room was smaller than the one that they had previously shared. It had all the general makings for a guest room: bed, nightstand with a lamp, a spare table and chair against the wall for morning coffee or to read at, lackluster decor to cover the walls, and a closet next to the bathroom door. However, with the lack of space all the furniture made the room feel cluttered. 

Vash had busied himself with checking the security of the singular window. The click of a lock would be followed by him yanking on it to make sure that it was doing its job properly. The blinds crashed down as they spilled beyond the sill only for him to raise them back up to cover any gaps from broken segments. He then began to prowl the walls, gliding his hand along the surface while checking up and down. “Everything alright, needle-noggin’? You’ve been high strung since we walked in.” While he hated to admit it, Vash being on high alert was starting to make him paranoid. For someone so carefree to suddenly be extremely cautious was unnerving, to say the least. The outlaw continued his trek around the room in silence, like nothing could stop him from completing this task he had made for himself. 

Two laps, one focusing high while the second focused low. It was only then that he finally began to relax. He practically threw himself onto the bed, his body bouncing as the springs pushed back against him before the energy settled. “Just needed to make sure it was safe; that’s all. Not that I don’t trust Isabelle, but there are some people that know I like to stay here that I would rather not see again.” You mean someone attacked you in this room before and they may have planted something to alert them to your next arrival when you escaped. 

When he looked down at the hardwood beneath his feet, there was a single green bug crawling toward him. Even with the wings folded against its back it had chosen to remain grounded, like it was trying to avoid detection. Like it wanted to be sure Vash wouldn’t notice it. The feelers on its head raised up toward Wolfwood like it was trying to egg him on. Disgust was not enough to describe the feeling that seared through his core as he raised his foot to grind it into paste. If Vash was worried about anyone spying on them, then… Someone uses bugs. He did everything he could to hide the urgency in his tone, but his words still came out as a hard command, “Vash, check for bugs. Any insect needs to be crushed.”

“What? No! Can’t we just let them outside?” Wolfwood had already crossed the room to look under the bed. Bioluminescent green was lying in wait in the shadows, unmoving until he reached his hand toward it. It scrambled away from his fingertips toward the head of the bed, its back pressed to the wall as it stood on hind legs in an attempt to appear bigger. Fucking twirp, get back here. “Wolfwood! Come on, leave it alone. It’s just trying to survive, just like us. Don’t kill it, please!” Vash threw himself on top of the bed and was grabbing at his clothes, each yank making him slide back slightly as his slacks failed to keep any traction on the lacquered floor. 

He finally pulled his torso out from under the bed to look up at the pacifist. “We can’t leave it!” He could feel that his hair was out of place as he looked through his bangs at Vash. A crazed man looking up at an angel, begging to be forgiven for the sins he had and was going to commit.

“Why not? It’s just a bug. It won’t hurt you if you aren’t threatening it.”

“It’s not ‘just a bug’, Needles. It’s… I don’t know, but I feel like it’s bad news.” Please, I just need you to understand. Why can’t I give a better reason to make you understand! Why can’t I remember? His eyes were starting to burn, his vision blurring around welling tears that came out of nowhere. Weakness. Fuck, he was letting Vash see him so weak when he was trying to protect him. It took everything in him to keep his breathing measured, his chest rising and falling in heavy puffs as he fought to calm himself down.

Vash’s expression immediately softened as he came down to sit beside him on the floor. “You’re scared? Are you afraid of bugs, Wolfwood?” He rubbed comforting circles into his shoulders before dipping down to crawl under the bed himself. When he emerged he had cupped hands with a soft glow of green along the edges of his fingers and a smirk planted across his lips. “You could have just said so. Don’t worry, I got it. Open the window for me, okay?” 

Don’t patronize me. You’re the one making a big mistake letting that thing go. Even so, he did as Vash asked of him. The bug quickly flew into the night, the green light slowly becoming nothing more than a pinprick before vanishing completely. The window lock and blinds fell back into place just as they had been before. 

Vash reached over to thread his hand through Wolfwood’s hair to try and guide it back into its rightful place. His face was full of endearment and love, “Let's get you cleaned up. You’ve been through so much today.” All of the grime and sand that clung to his skin became painfully obvious at the mention of bathing. Vash moved his hand down to run his thumb over the cheek that was still speckled with tiny flakes of dried blood before side stepping around him. His hand acted as a guide for where Wolfwood’s gaze should fall, keeping his head leveled to maintain eye contact as they turned. It was like a subtle request that he completely trust himself to Vash for the night. Allow him to tend to his every need and spoil him while they had the chance. Maybe I can let my guard down for now. For Vash.

The bathroom wasn't anything special. Instead of a standard shower there was a large tin tub that sat on the far end, the toilet and sink off to the sides created a false aisle for them. The walls and floor were practically the same shade of brown, the monotony of it only being broken by contrasting textures.           

Vash began to draw the water, something familiar in the way that he bent over to turn the knobs that Wolfwood couldn't quite put his finger on. Vash discarded his coat, folding it over his arm before setting it gently on the toilet lid. The sound of the water rushing out of the spigot and crashing against tin was deafening, though it quickly grew more tolerable as the bath filled. His glove was the next to go, each finger plucked individually to loosen it before it was pulled off in a smooth motion to join the pile. He looked over his shoulder and teased, "Well, are you going to undress or do I have to take your clothes off for you?"

Oh, right. This bath is for me. He took his time disrobing just to try and keep from making an awkward situation worse. Being shirtless felt fine, considering how close they are - he could at least recall that they were close, but not the details of their relationship. Were there even any details? Or is it just because they were traveling partners who can't trust anyone else with their every need? But when it came to the waist down… Vash was still practically fully clothed, even though his chest piece was rather revealing. It made him feel out of place, but there was no way he could ask for the two of them to share this tiny tub. 

So there he was. Standing off to the side in his boxers while Vash rested one leg on the edge of the bath, his flesh hand testing the water and swirling it around to distribute the warmth away from the spigot. Humiliating… Vash made him feel so many new emotions, but this one he particularly disliked. It was like he was nothing more than an overgrown child waiting for his mother to help him with this simple task of washing himself. 

The water shutting off snapped him back to the moment. Vash peeled himself away from his makeshift seat and looked to Wolfwood expectantly. “Go on. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Oh, so have we…? Vash was rather pretty and had several features that had an almost feminine allure to them. Yeah, Wolfwood could see why he would want to. Could still feel the flutter of butterflies in his chest when he looked at the blond. Something deeper than simple attraction. Something about Vash as a person that drew him in and made him want - hunger - for him. 

Wolfwood moved forward, stepping out of his underwear in one smooth motion before he stepped over the lip to slowly lower himself into the steaming water. His body adjusted quickly, muscles relaxing with the heat, allowing the tension to melt away like he was in Vash’s embrace again.     

Yet when he pulled his arm out of the water the feelings immediately shifted. Veins bulging, skin steaming, blood boiling. The few scars that did remain always became more obvious once the hot water brought more colour to the rest of his skin. They were only half a shade off from the rest of his skin most times, making them hard to spot, but now they had a slight tone of angry pink shining through. Puckered and slightly indented into his hands. The burns he received from stray bullet casings and the residual heat of the Punisher. 

His eyes continued following up his arm, along the trails that were carved in. It felt weird, like he wasn’t mapping his own body’s scars but those of a stranger. Some of them were long and thin, from the slice of a knife or razor, perhaps? Others were thicker and had the puckered edges associated with sutures and stitches. 

He watched as one of them tore open, red blood trickling out and covering his arm. 

Wolfwood was strapped to a table, arms and legs pinned down to mimic a crucifixion. Smaller. A child. He was a child. There was a thick leather strap over his neck to keep him from moving his torso too much. Human figures stood over him, a large light with many small bulbs shining down on his body like a spotlight. He was being carved open. Over and over and over and over and- he died. He came back. He died. Blue fluid leaked from the cuts in his arms and chest before they stitched themselves shut. He could watch the strands of skin reach out across the chasm like worms. Attach to the other side. Could feel the pull of it closing. His head was spinning. Vomit collected in the middle of his throat yet he did everything to hold it down so that he wouldn’t choke on it. “Nicholas. The name of a saint; how cute. So weak. Why do they insist we keep trying?” What are they talking about? “Nicholas. Nicholas Wolfwood. Nicholas. Nico-”

“Nico! Hey, Nico! Wolfwood! What’s going on? Talk to me. You’re safe here. You’re okay. Just breathe.” Breathe? Oh. Where am I? His arm was still pulled out of the water, but a lot of the colour had returned to normal. His scars were just that. Old scars. He let his arm fall back down, just like those visions - those… memories? - fall back down into the pit they had crawled out of. None of what he had seen felt real anymore. Like it was just something he had read somewhere. Vash was stroking his hair in an attempt to comfort him without giving him too much contact. He really had a talent for knowing just what Wolfwood would need. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah… I think so. Just… I don’t know.” Now that it was over, he couldn’t find the words to explain what had happened even if he wanted to. None of it made sense anymore. His brain felt kind of mushy, like it got put through a blender. “I think I remembered something. Something… unpleasant.” 

Vash’s hand moved to cup Wolfwood’s cheek, his eyes were still full of concern, “You don’t have to tell me about things you don’t want to remember. Not to say that you shouldn’t be allowed to remember the bad things, but…” He paused. It was almost reassuring to see that Vash was also struggling to find the words to explain his thoughts, “... there are some things that are better forgotten.” It felt so earnest, like he wasn’t just saying it for Wolfwood’s sake but his own as well. A quiet reminder that they were both suffering.

Wolfwood gave a short nod, “Right...” He took a deep breath and chose what he wished to share carefully. If he was going to be reminded of it by Vash in the future, he had a feeling that the less details there were, the better. Because would he even be the same person if he completely forgot his past? If he forgot about growing up in an orphanage? If he forgot that he was experimented on and willingly went to protect someone he cared about, even if he couldn’t remember who? Details didn’t matter, just knowing that those things were a part of his past was what mattered. He allowed himself to sink a little further into the water so that it stopped at his collar bone, “It was about some experiments. They were what made a lot of the scars on my arms and chest.” Easy. Simple. Something he should know without all the gory details. Telling Vash actually helped to take some of the weight off of his shoulders, too. 

“There are scars? I don’t see any.” Vash reached through the water to pull Wolfwood’s arm back out. He forced it to twist around slowly, back and forth while those blue eyes examined his skin to try and see what Wolfwood saw. “Your skin looks perfect. Not a single mark.”  No. No, that can’t be right. They’re right there. Right- He pulled his arm back so that he could look at it closely again. Maybe the light was just making them hard to see. Maybe he just needs to have a bit more steam to peer through. Maybe-

But nothing remained. There wasn’t a dent or raise anywhere on his skin. No puckered circular wounds from bullets, no burns, no incisions or sutures or staples. Nothing. Just smooth skin. Everything had healed as if it had never happened. Vash was calling him back again, “Wolfwood. Hey, don’t think about it too much. I believe you. There are definitely scars, but I have also seen what your body can do. They are there. They’re just… deeper, hidden beneath the surface.” Vash moved away to start scrounging around in the cabinets to find whatever toiletries the place had to offer their guests. 

Wolfwood had expected Vash to set everything down close enough for him to reach before making his exit, but instead he got situated as he was before and dunked a washcloth into the water, grazing his side in the process. Vash kept his voice pillowy soft, like he was treading over the hot coals of Wolfwood’s frustrations and broken glass doubts. “I remember the first time I saw your body heal. When we first arrived in Mei. You had gotten shot in the abdomen, but when the town practitioner looked you over, there were old scars right where the entry points in your clothes were. And now, since you drank that thing, those scars are gone.” He started to rub circles into Wolfwood’s back, starting at his left shoulder and slowly working across. He gave a silent command for him to lean forward to give him more access by pressing his hand to the base of Wolfwood’s neck, which caused some water to splash out the sides as he awkwardly rearranged his limbs in an effort to maintain some semblance of comfort. Vash continued his swirling cleanse. “What is that stuff anyway?”

“It’s…” What is it? The vials look like they are filled with some sort of serum or drug. And You told me that they are for emergencies only. This was the first time that it dawned on him that he had no idea what those little vials in his pocket were full of. Just that it was important for him to make sure that he always had them on him. He tried to make his thoughts reach out, What are they? What are those vials full of? But the voice didn’t chime in to tell him any further information even now that he was actively searching for an answer. 

Vash started playing with his hair again, which only made him realize that he had fallen into silence for a lot longer than he’d thought. Wolfwood returned to his original position, arms flung over the sides of the tub and head leaned back to look up into his sky patiently waiting for him to finish his thought. “I actually have no idea. But whatever it is must have kept me alive”      

Vash hummed, taking a moment to think about something as the washcloth began its trek across his pecs, slender arms draped over his shoulders while Vash’s cheek pressed against his head as if hugging him from behind. “But you also don’t remember anything that happens directly after taking it. You… lose yourself in the process. And beyond that, you forget more and more. Is it really worth it?”

Wolfwood nodded. Of course it’s worth it. It’s not like I am exactly looking to die. Especially not now. There is still so much I have to do. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. The words balled up in the center of his throat, curled around his vocal chords and refused to come out. That answer wasn’t good enough. Many people die with regrets and expect to have done more with their life, so why was it so important for him to defy death every time? Vash's words weighed heavy on his conscience, ‘is it really worth it?’ echoing through a few more times. He rolled a few more responses to the question around in his mind before finally settling on one. “If it wasn’t worth it, then I would never take it. I wouldn’t forfeit my memories in exchange for a longer life if I didn’t have something worth fighting for. A home I have to protect along with the people that live there. If it wasn't something that only I could do.” And now, I have one more thing to fight for. You. 

Vash’s hand pulled away, taking the cleansing cloth with it. For a moment, Wolfwood felt that he may have said something wrong, made Vash upset or scared or both, and spun around so that he could try to read the blond’s facial expression just to be sure. Perhaps that was exactly what Vash had expected him to do, because he still had that gentle, loving smile plastered across his lips, his body completely relaxed as he let out a loving sigh through his nose and took Wolfwood’s face between his hands. The washcloth resumed its circular motions against his once bloody cheek while the organic hand stroked the other. “You’re incredible. But please, you really need to learn how to share your burdens with others.” Vash pulled him forward, planting a kiss and breathing a promise against his lips, “Let me share your burdens, Wolfwood.” 

With that, Wolfwood was cleaned, both body and soul. Part of him was thankful that it was over. The water had turned lukewarm and was clouded with grime, and he was beginning to feel confined within the small space. But as Vash pulled away and left his side, there was that longing for things to never end. That inevitable sense of abandonment and fear that this may be the last time he could experience something like this, especially with the promise that he wouldn’t even get the solace of reliving this moment through dreams in the near future. Not in its entirety at least. 

With a groan to match the ache that had settled into his lower back from sitting against metal for so long, Wolfwood pulled himself from the water. Fuck, I’m not that old yet, am I? If there was one thing this establishment had going for it, it was that its towels were actually quite nice. Not super soft or anything, but better than most and comfortable enough to lounge in. 

Vash was standing beside the bed with a mystery bottle in his hand. No label. Nothing special about it to help identify what was waiting inside. Just a standard, opaque green liquor bottle. Acting as their guinea pig, Wolfwood spotted the hint of hesitation tugging at the edges of Vash’s smirk before he took a quick swig. Fluid, clear as water, dibbled down his chin and just as quickly as he had put the bottle to his lips it was pulled away. Harsh coughs tore out of Vash’s throat, forcing him to take a knee. 

A sputtering “Hol-ly sh-i-it” was all he could muster before Wolfwood pried the bottle from his grasp.

Whatever it was smelt horrible. Antiseptic with a hint of rotten food were the two main things he could pick out from the barrage of smells. Every fiber of his being told him that they shouldn’t drink this but there was no way he would let Vash suffer alone. He had the advantage - knowing that it would be best to take it like a bad shot - and allowed a mouthful to slide down his throat. He couldn’t taste a goddamn thing or maybe the smell and the taste were one and the same. It made everything burn and he was thrown into a similar coughing fit. His throat was on fire, nose tingling, and his chest felt tight and ached like someone had just landed a punch straight to his solar plexus. 

For a moment he thought he had stopped breathing entirely. “Wh-hat the fuck. Where did you get this shit, Spikey?” He could feel the warmth slowly creeping into his face, but not in the pleasant way it normally would when they were drinking. Was his head fuzzy from just one swig or was it due to the lack of oxygen from coughing so much?

Vash took the bottle back, immediately corking it. “Random drunk outside the bar in Mei.” His voice was rather raspy and another small wave of coughs followed his words. Vash stored the bottle away in his bag knowing that there was no way in hell either of them were going to try and drink more of Death’s Water. “I guess this is what I get for accepting mystery booze from some random guy, but maybe we can use it for something else!” Always the optimist, or maybe just an opportunist. Vash laughed while rubbing at the back of his neck. It must be a nervous tic, something that is done on reflex when he is slightly embarrassed. 

“Well, that was a bust.” Vash moved himself so that he sat on the edge of the bed. He patted the center of the mattress, an invitation for Wolfwood to take position. “Lay on your stomach here. There’s one more thing I want to do for you.”

Wolfwood couldn’t help but grimace, though he knew that Vash wasn’t planning anything sinister. Or at the very least he doubted that the blond would take advantage of him like that. “That’s ominous. Having me drink some mystery fluid and then lay face down. You into that kind of thing?” Even so, Wolfwood crawled onto the bed to sit right where he was instructed to, but didn’t lay down just yet. 

He could practically see the gears turning beneath those spikes and maybe a small plume of smoke before what Wolfwood had implied finally clicked. Never before had he witnessed someone reel so dramatically, arms waving frantically like he was iles away. “No! No, not at all! I would never! Unless…” Unless? Didn’t think he could have those kinds of desires. Or maybe I’m reading too far into it now. There was a small, uncomfortable pause as they just stared at each other. Vash's anxiety ramped up as he shook his head free of whatever thoughts were lingering. “No! I was just going to give you a massage, that’s all, I swear!” 

Wolfwood couldn’t help but laugh as he put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Relax. I believe you.” As a show of trust, he laid himself face-down, arms folded to create a makeshift pillow. A massage, huh? Don't think I've ever been treated to such a luxury before. It felt odd to allow his guard to completely fall as his eyes slipped closed and he steadied his breathing.

All Wolfwood had to go off of was touch and sound. Vash’s footsteps against the ground. Rustling off by the wall where his bag was. The shifting of the mattress beneath him, followed by sudden pressure on the back of his thighs, and then splayed fingers slowly caressing his back on either side of his spine. Trailing down slowly with a feather light touch to the edge of the towel wrapped around him. The weight lifted off his legs, but the dip in the mattress remained where it was, so Vash must be on his knees. Hands followed around the dip of his back to rest on his waist, a hushed command floating to his ears, “Lift your hips. I’m going to take the towel off of you.” 

“Huh, thought that you normally keep the towel on during a massage. Or are you skipping straight for a ‘happy ending’?” That got Vash sputtering with different excuses, not that he cared what they were. The sheer joy that he got from pulling those reactions out of the blond was what he was truely after. He did as he was asked and the offending fabric was removed. The sound of it hitting the hardwood meant that Vash had quite literally tossed it aside. It did feel nicer to have the smooth fabric of the bedsheet pressed against his lower regions.

Something clicked behind him. His mind immediately jumped to try and identify what could make such a sound, assuming the worst first before dialing back. It was sharp, but not quite like a chamber snapping shut or a hammer being pulled back. He tried to see if he could manage to catch a glimpse of Vash from over his shoulder, but barely managed to get an arm in his peripheral. 

“Relax, Nico. It's just some oil.” Just to drive home that he was speaking the truth, Vash squeezed out a stripe of the fluid down the center of Wolfwood’s back. It was cold and forced a small shiver to ripple through his body. If I find out that this is gun oil I will murder you myself. He wasn't able to smell anything different, just the strong smell of laundry detergent coming from the sheets.

The first few passes spread the oil across his skin. Smooth, gentle petting motions to feel out his muscles. That was followed by some light prodding. Thumbs digging in to search for where all of the tension was balled up. Palms applying further pressure beyond that, Wolfwood's body being pressed down into the mattress. Air was pushed from his lungs in a low groan.

The force let up a little, yet Vash's hands remained against his lower back around his tailbone. “Deep breaths. Ready?” 

What, no deep breath for that last one? Wolfwood did an exaggerated sigh through his nose before nodding. 

“In-” Vash inhaled with him. The heel of his palm drove down, grinding against the knot he had found before pushing upwards, the rest of Wolfwood's body practically being moved up from that single point.

The next groan that rolled out of him was much more guttural, “Fhhhhuuuck. Ngh, shit.”

“That's one way to exhale.”

Wolfwood pushed his upper half up on his elbows to twist just enough to look at Vash. “Fuck you.” Another slow, hard roll over that knot had him bury his face into the blanket to muffle out the pitiful noise that escaped.

He could practically hear the shit-eating grin in Vash's voice, “Maybe some other time. You should probably rest after this. Now, in-” 

Vash continued his relentless torture against that singular spot. Every upward push forced the front of him to drag against the sheets. A strange pleasure fluttered through him each time, the groans shifting in tone to match. After three more of those painful passes Vash switched to rolling the knot around under his thumbs. It gave Wolfwood the perfect chance to come back down. Well, it does feel a little smaller. Fuck, that hurts. 

Wolfwood could feel Vash shift his weight as the hands dragged up to his shoulders and worked the rest of his muscles loose. This part of the massage was much kinder than the start had been. Moans and groans transformed into contented sighs. His body was still being shifted back and forth against the mattress. Vash had moved upward just slightly to barely grind against his ass every time his hands drew back down. It was almost maddening how desperately he was starting to crave more.

Vash cleared his throat as he withdrew his hands and removed himself from his position on Wolfwood's thighs. “Alright. How does that feel?”

Ah. We're done, then. Right. Get it together, Wolfwood . He rolled onto his back and stretched, testing to see if there might be any residual tension. Shoulders moved smoothly, everything felt nice and loose, and that lower back pain from earlier completely dissolved. “Never felt better. Had no idea I could feel this good.” 

Vash nodded, his eyes looking at the wall above Wolfwood's head. “Good! That's good. I'm… Um… I'm glad you… enjoyed it so much.”

Wolfwood raised a brow in confusion before it dawned on him why Vash wouldn't look at him. He quickly threw the covers over himself and turned onto his side in embarrassment.

The lights were turned out and Vash joined him under the sheets, giggling as he wrapped his arms around the priest and pulled him close. “Don't worry. You can't control how your body responds. I think it's cute!”

That didn't make him feel any better. “Shut up. Pretend it never happened.” 

“Aww, don't be like that, Nico! If you want, I can-”

“Just… go to bed, Spikey.”

Chapter Text

It had been a long few days of travel with nothing but sand and the occasional boulder to break up the monotony of the land they inhabited. Any and all rock structures were like a godsend out so far from civilization. The shade offered relief from the ever present heat of the desert and when the winds kicked up and became razor sharp with grit they worked as shelters to save their skin - quite literally. The girls continued to track their every move, but were careful to keep much more of a distance now than they had before. Maybe it was to give the illusion that they really weren’t following them. Maybe it was so that, should trouble arise, they had deniability of being involved with Vash. 

Unfortunately, they had made it to Jenora Rock at a breakneck pace for being on foot. The large stone structure that was the pinnacle of the town loomed above them. A church resided at the very top where it would be the closest to the heavens. So that the house of God may look down upon all of His people and across the wastelands of Gunsmoke. One of the suns formed a half halo around it, casting the building's shadow over them.

So you finally made it.

God was calling for him. And something in Wolfwood told him that he needed to climb those steps and convene with Him. Alone. Surely he could come up with an excuse to sneak away from Vash for a few hours. Maybe even just peel away from him while he wandered around the town. 

He chose to start with the excuse, "Well, this is where we part ways. There is something I need to do here."

The girls had caught up to the two of them just in time to hear about his departure. Milly was the one to look at him like a kicked puppy as she asked, "You're leaving? Will you be okay on your own?"

With a smirk, Wolfwood shifted his grasp on the Punisher in search of momentary relief. "The Lord is calling to me, and I must answer. If a good wind blows, I'll see you two again, as well. May His divine protection be with you." 

Vash's response came distracted and as an expectation rather than a request, “Okay. Meet up with me when you are done. Outside of town, about 100 yarz." Just like that, the two of them began to walk in different directions, Vash moving toward the densely packed residential area with urgency and Wolfwood toward the namesake of this place. 

Wolfwood could tell that Vash was weirdly on edge, almost like he could smell danger on the gentle breeze that was blowing through. There was a distinct lack of people roaming about which made it feel as if this town had been abandoned not too long ago. As he began to mozy along, he couldn't help but keep looking over his shoulder to keep an eye on the back of that crimson coat flared out as a trail behind him. Don't worry, he'll join us soon enough. Come to the church, Chapel. 

The steps made it an arduous climb to the top. Somewhere close to the midway point was where they had stopped being maintained. There were few that bothered to worship in this day and age, it seemed. The stone had crumbled beyond recognition and Wolfwood would have to make a small leap to try and skip over those steps to land in a semi-stable spot above. He could feel his foot slip as small chunks would tumble down behind him. I swear to fuck if I end up tumbling down these fucking steps. No wonder no one comes to Your house in this town. 

There were faint voices. More than he would have expected to be hearing, considering how fucking pissed he was with trying to climb up here. For some reason, he felt like he knew who they were and the thought of those he was going to be surrounded with ticked him off. He didn't like these people, and that was satisfactory enough for him when it came to his patchy recollection.

Finally at the peak, the sky had started to take on a light orange hue, the suns slowly slipping away to make room for the five sisters of the night. There was a small crowd of people there before the church doors chatting amongst themselves. The one in a white coat with blue hair that covered one of his golden eyes looked disinterested in the conversation, his arms folded and fingers drumming away on his bicep. He was also the first to acknowledge Wolfwood once his foot hit even ground. "So, you finally decided to show up, Chapel. We've been expecting you all day." His words were pointed and scolding. Why do you keep calling me that? Isn't it supposed to be "Punisher"?

You're his… stand-in, for simplicity sake. You won't remember even if I explain everything to you now, will you? There was a snideness to the remark. But of course, He was right, so Wolfwood held his tongue - or at least did what he could to keep his thoughts to himself.

“Sorry for the hold up. Got a bit lost along the way.” He could hear the irritated growl rumble through Bangs’ throat. The kid that was there snorted like they were trying to hold back before they started cackling as if they knew everything that had transpired these past few days. Fucking twirp. You’re no better than a goddamn bug. Everyone else that was standing around seemed more bored with being forced to wait around than anything else, the conversations having minimal structure. 

An echo of gunshots could be heard in the distance. Two different guns, one sharp as a predator's fangs searching for the perfect strike to end things quickly. The other was familiar. Calm, collected, somehow gentle and perfectly measured in timing between each discharge. Vash. Wolfwood couldn’t help but try to look out across the town to see if he could manage to spot something. Anything. The light reflecting off of his gun, a tiny flash from the muzzle, a bright red spot against the muted tones of the town. Nothing. The gunfire stopped just as suddenly as it had started. Some stray shots. Silence.

Bangs clicked his tongue and turned to open the doors. “No point in waiting for her now. Dominique has failed.” They didn’t question his words, merely accepted them as an absolute truth. Everyone turned to shuffle into the cathedral behind the ‘leader’ with Wolfwood waiting a moment longer so there would be a foot between him and the rest of the group. The only thing illuminating the hall was whatever natural light could still trickle in through the stained glass windows. No one made a move to light any candles or search for a lamp, seemingly content with the atmosphere the pseudo darkness provided. Wolfwood chose to stand between a few church pews where he could keep the entrance in his peripheral.  

“So, Legato. What was the point of summoning us all here?” A man in a full white suit and pink dress shirt questioned from his chosen spot. When looking at the menagerie of people that had been gathered, he appeared to be the most normal next to Wolfwood. Finally, a name to attach to that smug bastard. 

Legato moved to take a seat on the edge of the statue of Christ that rested upon the altar. It really felt like every move he made was to spite Wolfwood personally. "Everything will be explained by 'The Doctor' when he arrives." Oh, so we make a big stink about me being late, but whoever that is gets a free pass. Fuck you, Legato. As long as Wolfwood focused on his personal mission of protecting Vash, he was all but guaranteed to get his revenge against this blue-haired bastard eventually.

It wasn’t long after everyone had grown comfortable that the doors were thrown open. "Ah, I applaud you, Legato. You did great to gather everyone here." Yeah, right. He didn't do shit. He got a harsh hiss of a warning that pierced through his mind, Patience, Punisher. Watch yourself. It is beginning to grate on my nerves. The pounding it caused made him miss the rest of what The Doctor had to say, the ringing in his ears drowning out several words, "... revive Lord Knives…. We cannot use… body, so we… your cooperation… not interrupted." It took everything in him to maintain an air of disinterest through the throbbing. 

You know your task. Protect Vash at all costs, but if he tries to stop The Doctor then you will need to stall him until I am ready.

Individually, they were given their positions to keep watch at. Wolfwood's was just outside of the cathedral. He was paired with two of the others that were there, though with the way they had spread apart made it no different than if they were alone. From Wolfwood’s post, he could see that people had started to leave the safety of their homes, now choosing to bustle about the streets in an effort to finish whatever tasks they hadn’t done before they’d gone into hiding. Store lights and street lamps started to flicker to life, the bulbs of the plants below helping to illuminate everything with their gentle glow. Light pollution made it hard to see the endless number of stars above that Wolfwood had grown accustomed to seeing these past nights. They are unaware of our presence here above them, and yet they still move with a fear for the disciples that lie in wait atop this mountain. Even I am aware of how easily I can be devoured.  

That's all that ever happened on this planet covered with sand. It devours. Happiness. Peace. Cities. Lives. It would take it all and tear it apart suddenly. Without a moment's warning. If it wasn't some group of lunatics ransacking the weak for the thrill of it, it would be the land itself through a natural disaster or unexplainable phenomenon. What was about to go down could be classified as one such phenomenon. 

Electricity jumped between lightning rods as one of the bulbs grew brighter than the others. Wolfwood could barely make out what was happening, not that what he was witnessing made any sense to begin with. The plant that rested inside writhed about as if fighting some invisible force. Its body mutated, many limbs stretching out, tiny hands reaching, feather-like structures sprouting without sense. A second body formed above the first. The plant’s stomach had swelled to an impossible size. The bulb pulsed ever brighter and Wolfwood had to shield his eyes from a light that was harsher than any sun. 

The light slowly burned out. The plant had died, and standing down with The Doctor and Legato was a man with long platinum blonde hair. He almost… Looks like Vash. As Legato dropped to one knee and bowed his head to the intruder, that strange man looked up. Right at Wolfwood. He put a finger up to his mouth as if shushing him before tapping at his temple a few times.

That voice cut into his thoughts, An excellent observation, Punisher. You are exactly right. The man opened his mouth, as if laughing while that voice in his head did just that. It laughed. He laughed. A spine chilling laugh.  

You’re -!

A familiar scream cut off his train of thought as if it were trying to finish the sentence he didn’t even know needed an ending. “KNIVES!” It was Vash, cutting through the crowd of fleeing people as if he were parting the red sea to reach this unsanctioned replica of Christ. His coat was missing, but it was undeniably him. 

Legato roared out his orders as he quickly rose to his feet, “Kill him! Kill Vash the Stampe-!” But he was cut off by a sickening crunch as the one he had been bowing his head to only moments ago slammed him to the ground. His back contorted as he crumpled into a heap beneath Knives’ foot. All those gathered on the peak stood by, watching in shock.  

“You piece of trash… Who said you could kill him?” Knives quickly returned his focus to Vash in time to dodge the shot he took. It was the only time Wolfwood had seen Vash wear an expression so dark or shoot a bullet that could kill. He continued to speak loudly, as if he wanted everyone that was bearing witness to hear what he had to say, “Oh? You’re pointing that thing at me again? Your stupid little toy?! You really haven’t changed after all! You are the same as you were one hundred and fifty years ago!” He slowly started to encroach on Vash, their conversation becoming hushed, private. The Doctor called out to Knives only to be ignored. 

They… aren’t human, are they? Knives grabbed Vash’s face and something pulsed through Wolfwood’s body. An unfamiliar feeling like air was being sucked out of him. Vash’s arm exploded out of the leathers that bound it, the decorative straps that helped it match his prosthetic flying apart. His hand merged with the gun he wielded. And continued growing. Growing. Feathers erupting from the center of his chest and along what was once his arm just as they had from the plant when Knives was reviving. A cannon with two halos was being pointed at ground level as Vash struggled against the man to redirect where it should be aiming. The Doctor screamed orders, but all he could do was stand there and watch. His feet felt like they had frozen to the ground beneath them. Vash was screaming in agony. Vash was in pain. Aren’t my orders to protect him? What are you doing to him?!

I am teaching him a lesson, like an elder brother should . He’ll just keep torturing himself otherwise. His voice - Knives’ voice - cut through the vacuum that the cannon was creating, as if his words would be able to replace the air itself, “This is your power, Vash! Channel it! Let it flow! And use it to extinguish them! Kill them and your foolish feelings for mankind!”      

Wolfwood wasn’t sure how it had happened, but Vash was able to overpower Knives. He was able to redirect the gun so that the only one that was injured was himself. The cannon fired. The earth itself trembled from the sheer force of it. Wolfwood was lucky that he had managed to convince his legs to move before it had gone off. The church was blown to smithereens. The top of Jenora Rock was missing. A single plant bulb was left unscathed, one missing and the other broken open and no longer functional. When Wolfwood was finally able to regain stable footing, he looked up. There, on the moon, was a massive crater. Freshly formed by a power comparable to - no. By the power of God. Is there a chance… That he would use that power to mow us all down with death’s scythe?  

There was plenty of rubble that he had to climb past. Swarms of people moved in on the epicenter to try and rationalize what had just transpired without context as to what had been done. It wasn’t his place, nor his job, to explain it to them. The voice was speaking rapid nonsense at him. How dare he defy me! Vash! My Vash is still fighting me! Why can’t he see? Why can’t he see that he’ll just end up torn apart like her? 

Shut up. I don’t understand what your goal is anymore. Wolfwood kept his head down as he weaved through the crowd. Most of the way through he had to create a path wide enough for him and the massive cross, but as he got toward the edge of the cluster the people seemed more than eager to move out of his path.

Find him! You must find him! We can’t let him out of our sights again! Finally, the voice said something that he could agree with. 

What do you think I’m trying to do? You think I’d let him leave without me after all that?    

Wolfwood found Vash right where he had promised to be, along with a bike that had a sidecar attached to it. He had his signature coat back on. Where did you hide it? And when did you find the time to go back and get it? Vash was busying himself with a strange project, probably in an effort to make sure that anyone trying to search for him now would be thrown off track and give up. With some red fabric he dressed up a wooden cross that was struggling to stay standing in the uneven ground. It looked enough like his own coat that should someone unfamiliar with every minute detail on it come across it they would assume that it was one and the same. 

Vash was deadpan, his face hardened in a scowl that only helped to solidify that he and Knives were related. “Let’s go. You had mentioned in the past that your bike had broken down. I’m hoping your muscle memory will help you drive this one.” He hopped into the sidecar, his prosthetic hand gripping tightly at his other arm. Nothing about it seemed different from usual aside from the missing glove. No blood. No tears. No feathers. 

Several days of silent travel. They had no destination in mind, just the need to keep moving and evade capture at all costs. Several nights of being woken abruptly by Vash's screams. Neither of them could find the energy to maintain conversation. Even if Wolfwood tried, Vash would never reply. His every motion was that of a dead man trapped inside his own head. It was like he was torturing himself by allowing the events of Jenora Rock and whatever similar events from the past to play back in his head on a loop. 

They slept on the road to avoid the eyes of the people. The eyes of the Hunters. The eyes that were always watching, waiting for Vash the Stampede to rear his head. Rumors had spread like wildfire. Everyone intrinsically knew that whatever had happened at Jenora Rock was Vash the Stampede’s fault. So, there was no other choice for them, which only led to rotten sleep every night. Sand ended up in any and every cavity and crevice as they tossed and turned in hopes of the ground becoming any softer beneath them. They had to huddle together to keep warm as the bitter chill of the desert nights pierced them to their cores, which only made things worse when they writhed about. An elbow to the ribs, a knee to the back, a heavy prosthetic flung over his face because ‘if he took it off then it would take ages to get the sand out of the connections.’ 

A week proved to be the breaking point. They were able to stop for gas briefly at early dawn, so no one was awake enough to recognize the lanky crimson wearing blond when he went in to purchase breakfast for the road. Preserved Wam meat for Wolfwood to snack on easily while driving and a bag full of donuts to satiate the sweet tooth Vash had been neglecting, plus some filtered water that took a massive chunk out of their shoestring budget. Wolfwood couldn’t stop the irritation that leaked into his tone, “Did you seriously waste money on filtered water? We could have filled the canteen at the well over there and called it good.”

“I just… thought it would do us some good to splurge a little today…” Vash sounded so tired. So defeated. It made him wince and want to take back his words. Go back in time and be grateful that Vash was still with him even when he could see how desperately he wanted to disappear and become someone else. This was the first time he had been able to see Vash act even remotely like himself, and Wolfwood had gone and yelled at him for it. 

The tension made his teeth itch. His pack of cigarettes had already been fully depleted the day prior, despite all of his efforts to ration them out for as long as possible. His eyes immediately began to scan the ground in desperation for anything. Even just a butt. Something that he could shove between his teeth just to get the faint taste of comfort woven into each breath he took. Luck smiled down upon him as he caught sight of one that had been discarded half-finished. Likely an overnight employee that was too groggy to shove it back into their pack before returning to the register. He bent down to snatch it up, only for Vash to reach out and stop him. Slender fingers wrapped around his wrist while the inhuman hand slipped something against his palm. Something that fit so perfectly into his grip. A fresh pack of cigarettes that were the same brand as the box that sat empty against his breast. 

"Please. We deserve to splurge sometimes… right?" Vash had eyes that were dewy despite the smile that he forced into place. He tried to joke around, to lighten the mood, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." He looked at Wolfwood expectantly as he maintained his hold of his wrist and hand. 

Does… He want me to let him make a confession? Here? Wolfwood took a deep breath and slowly rose from the slight crouch he had taken and Vash followed him up. He cleared his throat, brow furrowed with minor confusion as he played along, "Speak, My Child. What do you wish to confess?" 

"I have destroyed many lives without intent. People have died because of my existence. I have even forced a Man of the Lord to stay by my side despite all of that.” His eyes started to twinkle with mischief as his tone shifted to mockery, “Though, that man is terrible at following the rules, breaking many commandments and sinning himself." 

Wolfwood chose to lean into the theatrics, rolling his eyes while he gasped loudly as if he couldn't believe his ears. "Heavens above, may that man be forgiven and find his way back to the righteous path." 

"Even so, we still deserve to be happy, even as sinners. Don't we, Father? Can we be forgiven? And may we forgive ourselves?" 

Calling me out, too, huh? I guess I have been punishing myself alongside you. Wolfwood opened the box that had been gifted to him and fulfilled his craving, lighting the new cigarette in one smooth motion. He took a drag before continuing his part of the bit, "You are right. For God is the father of mercies." Wolfwood smirked as he ran his fingers over Vash's cheek to collect a tear that had broken free. "As for your penance… I shall take one of your donuts for myself. In the name of Our Lord, of course."

Vash laughed, "Seriously? A donut? No Hail Mary's or something like that?"

Wolfwood shook his head, "Nope. Donut's enough punishment for you." He then flicked Vash's forehead, earning him a small yelp in response. "You punish yourself enough already, Spikey." 

They didn’t have much longer to spend standing around. Early dawn was giving way to morning. The two happily took to their seats, the engine roaring back to life as they returned to the road. Though there was no conversation to be had today, it didn’t feel nearly as stifling anymore. The silence was welcome because at least now when Wolfwood snuck glances over at the sidecar, Vash looked like himself. Humming to himself. Eating a donut. Dancing to a song that he couldn’t hear properly above the thunderous wind. No longer an unmoving sack of flesh staring off into the distance at the never changing scenery, just his goofy Vash.

The suns were at their peak the next time Wolfwood had to pull off the road. His ass was numb from the bumpy ride, his shoulders sore from holding his arms in the same position for hours. Vash didn't seem to be faring much better as his joints cracked and popped with each stretch he did to loosen up. The sidecar made it so he could reposition himself whenever discomfort grew, but it was rather cramped for his lanky figure. Vash whined as one particularly loud crack came from his spine, "Ah ah ah ouchy. What I wouldn’t give for a cushion or a soft bed right now."

Wolfwood’s shoulders popped in agreement, "I hear ya. Still too early for us to head into any populated areas, though. Maybe if we find a place far removed from people… somewhere where they are unlikely to have heard the news." The chances of them finding a place like that was next to none, but it never hurt to have wishful thinking.

“Or an abandoned building.” It came out in a whisper, like a half-thought as Vash started walking away from the more packed sand of the makeshift road. 

“Or an abandoned building. But that would still be like finding a needle in-” Vash had already taken off running through the desert, the sound of him crunching away cutting Wolfwood off. “-Hey! Where the fuck are you goin’, Needle-noggin’?!” That’s when he saw it, too. His irritation quickly melted away in astonishment as he turned the bike to point in the right direction and started her up once more. It didn’t take long for him to be driving alongside Vash, doing his best to maintain speed so that he would be able to jump back into the sidecar without stopping. Vash flopped around for a bit as he tried to situate himself in the seat without becoming tangled in the tails of his coat. 

A five story building standing alone in the sand. All the windows were blown out. The trim was crumbling apart and the front wall had plenty of damage from taking the brunt of any sandstorm that came through. Its color was the perfect camouflage against the landscape, which made it the perfect place to use as a secret base. It only stood to reason though, that they weren’t the only ones who thought so. 

Wolfwood stopped the bike behind a mound of sand off to the left side of the structure. It was only big enough to offer cover when they crouched. He tried to see if there was any movement in the windows, but was having trouble convincing his eyes to cut through the heat haze. If there was anyone in the building, they were already well aware of the duo’s arrival thanks to him deciding to ride instead of run. “You got a plan for this, Spikey?”

Vash took a moment to look around at the sky, the surrounding sand, back at the building, and then at Wolfwood. “If it is empty, then there isn’t a need for a plan. Get in, make it comfortable, get some well needed rest.” His smile was filled with hope, but his eyes held all of the doubt that Wolfwood projected back at him. 

Wolfwood sighed and ran a hand over his forehead to wipe away the film of sweat that was building. “And if it isn’t empty? We are going to have to fight whoever is in there. What do you want to do about that?” After Jenora… I know that you won’t hurt anyone, but there is no way that we could stay safe. Anyone that takes refuge in a place like this isn’t going to listen to negotiation. 

More doubt and a swirl of sadness. But there was something else in there. Something darker. Something scary. Something distinctly not Vash. Maybe Wolfwood was just seeing things. Maybe Knives was still doing something to his head even though he had been rather quiet this past week. He spoke up, “Then we will have to incapacitate them. Remove them from the building and lock them out. Whatever happens…” Vash grabbed Wolfwood’s shoulders, his eyes sparkling as worry overtook his features. “... whatever happens, I need you to avoid drinking that fluid at all costs. I don’t know what it does, but I don’t want to lose you to it again.” Again? What is he talking about? Almost on instinct, his hand reached into his suit to feel at the pouch that they were held in. Still five vials. Still two empty slots, which may be exactly what Vash was referring to. “Please, Wolfwood. Please. Promise you won’t.” 

Do whatever it takes to stay alive to protect Vash. Was it a reminder or just his memory replaying messages he had already received? Either way, Knives had a point. No matter the cost, he had to stay alive if he wanted to keep Vash safe, because he is the only one that can. Especially now. Now that he knows and can play double agent for the brothers. “I… I can’t promise I won’t. But I’ll do what I can to avoid it.”

Vash’s face fell slightly, with disapproval or disappointment in the truth Wolfwood couldn’t tell, but he gave a nod of understanding nonetheless. 

There was nothing left to say. The two moved as one, slipping out from behind their cover to begin their approach on what was presumed to be an enemy stronghold.

Wolfwood's eyes scanned the windows. It was hard to tell if he saw something flit by or if it was a trick of the light, but after the third or fourth time spotting it he was certain of the former. He shifted The Punisher in his grasp so that he was prepared to shield the both of them when the inevitable golden rain started. Calm before the storm. They were ten yarz from the door when the lightning struck.

With shoulders screaming in protest, he held the cross up above his head at an angle perpendicular to the enemy's trajectory. Vash quickly ducked behind his human shield and started to fire off round after round into the windows. You've changed. You would never. Why are you shooting? But Wolfwood’s fears were quickly quelled when he caught Vash’s reload. The bullets were strange, still golden in the light, but the tip was black as pitch. 

With their backs pressed to the wall on either side of the entrance, Vash held one of them up and squished it a few times. “Hard rubber. It really hurts to be hit by one. Sometimes people faint from the shock of it.” He slotted it into the chamber and closed it with a snap, now ready for the main event. That cold, hardened expression had returned. False smiles and goofy disposition locked away once more. His free hand signaled for Wolfwood to ram the door in with his cross ready to fire.

Wood splintered away. Their noses were assaulted with the stale air and a cloud of dust. Silence ushered the unwelcome guests deeper inside. The floor creaked beneath their feet like it had been unaccustomed to handling any weight for a long time. Several pairs of footfalls could be heard above their heads, some lighter than others. Wuthering whistled through the walls like a bad omen for what was to come. 

Wolfwood released Punisher from her confines, the cover and straps falling to the floor in a heap. They split up at the stairs, Vash choosing to head down to the basement so that they wouldn’t be able to sneak up from behind while Wolfwood climbed upward. 

Wolfwood held the hulking cross in front of him as the stairs groaned like lost souls. On the first landing there was no one to be seen, yet several doors lined the hall, all of them slightly ajar. Light seeped in through cracks in the walls and the broken windows, yet it felt hauntingly dark. Shards of glass littered the ground before him, making a silent approach impossible. Do this his way. Incapacitate or scare them off. No killing.  

As he was steeling himself to take that first step into the obvious trap before him, his head filled with that all too familiar fog. The oppressive energy grabbed hold of his body and for just a moment, Wolfwood could swear that someone was behind him holding both of his shoulders in a tight grasp. Knives' voice came in a whisper, even with no one else able to hear. You know that this will only end one way. It’s an inevitability. The Eye made sure of that. That chilling laugh rang through the echo chamber of his skull. You’ll always be my puppet, Wolfwood. The contract was signed in blood, after all. 

While he was distracted, something poked out from one of the doors and caught the light. The sound of a single gunshot fractured the silence, the bullet grazing Wolfwood’s cheek before lodging itself in the wall behind him. The enemy was tired of waiting and - with the added push from Knives - his blood was already boiling. Fuck you. I won’t let you win. And I am going to prove it by clearing this place without killing them. 

Then you may want to use something smaller than that. Wolfwood propped the cross against the wall and unlatched the side compartments so that he could pull out a pair of the more merciful sidearms. You are just full of surprises, aren't you? The squatters would have to get past him and figure out how to open them up if they wanted to turn his own tools against him. An unlikely scenario, so he felt no remorse in parting ways with his most important possessions. 

“Alright, fuckers! Let’s dance!” Another shot found purchase in his right arm as he bum rushed toward the door that was closest to him. Easy enough to ignore, the searing pain acting as fuel for his rage. He threw the door wide open, the man behind it stumbling back with a perplexed look on his face. Wolfwood slammed the butt of one gun into his nose and fired the other into the shoulder of his gun arm. 

This room was lightly furnished. An overturned table was set like a barricade on the far end, a small communal kitchen with a bar offering another place for cover. He rolled toward the bar just as two more shots fired in quick succession. Bad move. Someone three times his size jumped on top of him, thick fingers trying to wrap around his throat. Wolfwood couldn’t tell if he was just hearing more people laughing within the room or if Knives was laughing alongside the man trying to choke him out. What he wouldn’t give to just pop this sucker between the eyes and get it all over with. Nonlethal. Nonlethal, dammit! The priest released one of his guns to grab at the thumb on his neck. With a twist, there was a sickening pop and the large beast atop him reeled back just enough for Wolfwood to weasel his leg between them and put as much force into an upward kick as possible. That was all the opening he needed to fire three rounds into the gelatinous stomach and one into each of his thighs. 

It was a narrow escape as Wolfwood scrambled out from beneath the collapsing tub of lard that fell toward him. One firearm depleted. Two enemies down. Not bad. He took to a crouch and retrieved the gun that lay next to the now unconscious beast. There was something satisfying about throwing his now empty firearm at the man’s back and watching it bounce off. 

You’re already running out of Mercy. How long are you going to play this silly game?  

As long as I can. Shuffling noises were coming from the table and the crunch of glass could be heard outside the room. More of them were converging on his location. If he wanted a chance at this, then he needed to think fast. He poked his head up from behind the bar and popped each of the remaining foes between the shoulders. They crumpled together, clutching at their new wounds in hopes that it would slow the bleeding. That gave him just enough time to hop over the bar and deliver a round-house kick to the skull.   

One room cleared, Lord knows how many more to go. A new voice called out to him. A young boy’s voice. “Nico! Play hide and seek with us!” Wolfwood’s head filled with what could only be compared to TV static. Like it was trying to play a video but the tape was severely damaged. “Hide! Or XXXX will find you!” But there was nowhere to hide in here, not unless he wanted to try and stuff himself into a small cabinet. He chose to press himself flat against the wall beside the door. Shadows flitted through the crack and projected on the far wall, the people outside passing this room and making their descent to the floor below. Guess they are going to be Vash’s problem.

“Found you!” The last person in the line poked his head in. On instinct, the priest held his breath as if that would make it so that he would slip into the wall and disappear entirely. Maybe this guy was blind as a bat or maybe Wolfwood had suddenly developed the power of invisibility, but the man didn’t react. He just stood there, staring into the room in bewilderment. Soaking in the sight of his allies laying on the ground, bloody but breathing. 

And like an idiot, Wolfwood punched him. The guy yelped and stumbled backward, hand pressed to his cheek. Before he could call out for the group to turn back and assist him, a gun was shoved into his slack jaw. Wolfwood held a finger up to his lips with a smirk before bringing his fist in a swift uppercut to the jaw, forcing him to take a bite of cold steel. The sod fell onto his ass, whimpering as blood poured out of his mouth. The priest didn’t care to stay, quickly taking off to proceed up the next flight of stairs. 

The further up he climbed, the worse a state the building was in. There was a part of the floor that had collapsed on the fourth floor that coated the whole third with rubble and debris. Several iron bars jutted from the remains of walls that rose from the ground like stalagmites.

Shots fired down at him from above. Fitting for a sinner like him. Bullets pierced skin, lodged into bone, fractured his hopes of being able to prove fate wrong and keep that promise to Vash after all. Even so, there was still one promise that he could keep. The one that he would never be able to forget.

He would protect Vash at all costs. 

Wolfwood’s rosary swung free from his breast as he tucked himself away behind the impromptu pony wall. The assailants continued to fire. Deja vu hit like a jackhammer. His fingers plucked a vial out from its hidden chamber. Did the fluid glow slightly in the lowlight or was seeing double causing such an illusion? Not that it mattered. With a flick of his thumb, the cap popped away. He hesitated, staring down at the liquid, wishing that another option would present itself. No, there was never another option. This was the only way. I'm sorry, Vash. I have to use one. I have to use one if I want to stay by your side.

Laughter rang through his mind as he ingested the electric blue serum. He could feel it instantaneously absorb and be pushed through his veins, carried on the winds of his rapid pulse. Searing pain ripped through his torso, his arms, his legs, every inch of him. The pistol fell from his grasp. Forgotten. A feeling almost akin to an itch settled itself into the root of his canines. Wolfwood hated it. Hated everything. Most of all, he hated that he could hear so many people breathing above him. They were making fun of him, weren’t they? Calling him weak, pathetic, no better than a fucking corpse rotting in the sunlight waiting for maggots to consume him until nothing remained.

The wolf couldn’t keep from hissing a breath between gritted teeth. The hunt was on. Everything had stilled, only the wind outside acting as accompaniment for the shrill ring that had settled in his ears. It took until he meandered his way over to the staircase for something else to cut through. A voice, familiar yet foreign. Good. Now we do things my way. Shall we, Punisher? 

Punisher. Right, he was The Punisher. Kill the scum that occupy this building. The Punisher nodded, stalking up the stairs to hunt the rats that were now scurrying about. A shard of glass was retrieved from the ground to act as his claws, blood slowly coating the surface as it dug into his palm. None bore witness to his ascension from the hellscape below. 

He encroached on the one closest while its back was turned. Didn't even have the opportunity to scream, its open maw quickly covered with one hand. Shard met neck, lodging between vertebrae. The only sound that escaped was a pitiful, wheezing squeak. The wolf watched as it slowly turned to face him, trying desperately to breathe as panic contorted its features. Why are you still moving? Fucking kneel. The Punisher's heel connected with the side of the rat's knee. The others turned, looking on in horror as one of their own collapsed to the ground. Bloody and broken, suffering in forced silence as its body spasmed in agony. 

There was a moment of pause. The world itself came to a halt. All eyes turned on the wolf dressed in black; his rosary catching a ray of sunlight and winking with false promises of salvation. The alpha prickled with rage, teeth bared as he demanded for those subservient to take action. The plague converged, some breaking off so the beast was surrounded on all sides. 

They jumped on him. When he threw one off another would quickly take its place. Impromptu bludgeons wailed at his abdomen and legs. Hands clawed at his neck. One twisted the rosary around its fingers and tried to use it to constrict his throat. He reached up and applied a second force downward. The string snapped from the tension, beads exploding and raining to the floor. The cross was bathed in the growing pool of blood at their feet.

The leader stood back and watched with a gun aimed at the beast’s head, just waiting for the perfect shot to open up. The Punisher kicked his aggressors back. Bit at their paws, their scruff, anything he could manage to sink his teeth into. The taste of iron overwhelmed his mouth as the numbers began to dwindle. Some scurried down the stairs with the knowledge that this was a losing battle. Others joined the pile of bodies that littered the ground. 

With a snarl, The Punisher ripped the iron pipe out of a beta’s grasp and plowed through the small crowd toward the figurehead. Whether through weakness or surprise, the rat’s aim faltered. Lead tore clean through the wolf’s shoulder. Its eyes were transfixed on the rapidly closing wound. Completely frozen in place, it did nothing to prevent its untimely death. The Punisher put all of his strength into lunging forward, the end of the pipe piercing through its eye socket, the crunch of the orbital cavity fracturing practically echoing in everyone’s ears.

The mischief scattered, their morale shattered now that their alpha was no longer there to protect them. Some took their chances and leapt from the windows, others shoved their way down the stairs. The pipe was pulled free from its fleshy sheath as he turned, the body it had momentarily called home thudding behind him. A slow laugh grew to a roar as he began his pursuit. Go ahead. Run. It will make this more interesting. 

His descent echoed through the building. Red was standing in the middle of the foyer on the first floor. Several microexpressions morphed his face as he was jostled between the last of the fleeing rats. Disgust, worry, full blown fear. Their eyes locked. The Punisher stopped in his tracks as a harsh ringing made his head feel like it was preparing to tear open. He could see Red’s face settle with relief. The ringing subsided as God breathed a sinister sigh. Oh. Look who is here, Punisher. That one deserves ‘special treatment’. He has been tainted. Take him. Show him just how vile humans can be when their desires aren’t met. Cravings were implanted. A desire to conquer Red. To feast on him. To take and take until there was nothing left for him to consume. 

They were left alone. Eyes trained on each other. Analyzing every movement. Red approached him hesitantly. Small. Hands raised in early surrender. His throat bobbed with a swallow. He spoke in hushed tones, “Hey, Nico. It’s me. It’s Vash.” Closer. Just a bit closer. The Punisher tightened his grip around the bloodied metal. Vash - no - Red hit his mark. 

The wolf pounced on his pack mate, the two of them slamming to the ground. Settled between Red’s legs, he held the metal rod across the blond’s throat. Red squirmed beneath him, placing his hands on the inside of The Punisher’s in a mixed grip. With leverage on his side, Red twisted the rod upward. The sudden jolt and slick of blood made them both lose hold. Iron clattered across the ground beyond reach. Blue eyes welled with tears as he clasped the wolf’s hands within his own so that the aggressor couldn’t wrap them around his throat. They strained against each other, fought for dominance, fought for control over the other. 

“Nico! Wolfwood! Wolfwood, please! Please, come back to me! This isn’t you! This will never be you!” Wolfwood? Who is…? It gave The Punisher pause, which left a wide enough opening for Red to crawl out from beneath his mate. I said. Take. Him. There was a shock of pain through his skull that was followed by that nagging itch in his teeth. The message was received, clear as crystal. He was finally going to take a bite of the apple.  

Red held the pipe close to his heaving chest. “I don’t want to hurt you… Don’t make me hurt you, Wolfwood.” Each step forward was matched with a step back until the blond was pressed against the wall. The Punisher lunged forward again with his teeth bared. They latched, but not into Red’s skin. Gagged by the metal rod, Red pushed it further into his mouth to force him back once more and escaped from his cornered position. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. God, please. Wolfwood!” The blond was scanning the room in desperation, but he was smart. Never turning his back on the predator before him. Never letting him out of his line of vision. Doing everything he could to keep them on an even playing field. 

Red tripped over a large white cloth that was splayed out on the ground. Sudden calmness washed over him. A leather strap was pulled taut between his hands. He took a slow, deep breath as he stared down his alpha.

The Punisher was not prepared for Red to be able to move with such inhuman speed. One moment he was prone before him. The next, the alpha had his face pressed into the ground, legs rendered useless as they were pinned at the knee, and wrists bound together behind his back. A growl rumbled from his throat as he struggled, but the blond let his head lift slightly so that he could forcefully slam it back into the cold tile. “Stop struggling! I’m doing this for your own good!” 

He could feel blood leaking from his forehead. Stars danced along the ground. Despite all of the strength he had, The Punisher was unable to slip his hands free or break the binds that were placed on him. “I won’t lose.” He managed to flip over, sandwiching his arms between his back and the floor. He could feel them fill with static before falling numb. His chest was heaving from the effort it took for such a simple movement to be completed. 

Red refused to look him in the eyes, still submissive to his alpha even as he fought to move up in the hierarchy. Another strap was being settled into place, resting beneath his pecs and pinning his arms to his sides at the bicep. A bad move. Perfect. Red was leaning forward and had to allow The Punisher to lift his torso from the floor if he wanted to complete the encirclement. That was his opportunity to strike. He bit into the blond’s shoulder, tendons moving beneath his teeth as his target began to struggle. His heart was thrumming with excitement. Never before had he felt so pleased with himself to hear someone scream in pain. I did it. I finally did it.

“Ow! Ow, fuck! Wolfwood! Dammit, let go!” A sudden force connected with the joint in his jaw. He heard more than felt the strange crunch as his mouth went slack. Then more popping and sizzling as white heat filled his face and his jaw snapped back into place. Red pulled the bond across his chest taut, forcing air out of him before letting it loosen slightly so the beast could still take in full breaths.

Still stunned from the strike, Red forced him to his feet and led him down into the basement. One hand tangled in his ebony hair to direct his head, the other grasping the binds around his wrists. “I don’t want to do this, but you’re leaving me no choice.” There was a single lantern above their heads to act as a light in this concrete box. Workbenches were pressed against the wall to the right, while several chains came out of the left wall at varying heights. In the middle of the floor lay a muzzle. Brown leather straps and a wire cage fit for a large canine of some sort that was nowhere in sight.

Red connected one of the lower chains to the strap around The Punisher's chest. It was long enough for him to stand or sit should he so desire, but only offered him a few paces in any direction. With a long sigh, Red sat himself down out of reach with a hand clasping at the shoulder that was bit. Despite the tears staining his face, the blond was smiling at him. “There. Now we’ll be safe. We can take as long as we need to rest. After the work you did… I don’t think anyone will be coming back for a while.” The blond leaned to the side so that he could collect the muzzle into his hands. He turned it over a few times to examine the composition before standing and coming close to the chained wolf. The Punisher snarled as the muzzle was placed on his face. Once it was secure, Red pulled his head forward and held the wolf so he could listen to the thrum of his heart. It was still running fast, the fear and adrenaline still in effect. A nervous chuckle puffed out as a hand began to stroke his hair, “I miss you, Nico. So relax. You’ll feel better soon. I know you will.” 

Red pulled away and gave his new pet a once over. His expression twisted as he pulled strands of hair free from a bloodied forehead. “That must have been a nasty gash. I can’t do anything about your clothes now, but I can at least clean you up a little.” There was a pause as his hand caressed The Punisher’s chest. “Where is your rosary? Did it break upstairs? Wait here, I’ll go find it.” The Punisher scoffed and rolled his neck. “Ah… ‘Not like I have a choice’, huh? You’re right, that was stupid of me.” This smile was a loaded gun. Every possible emotion blended into one ridiculous grin on the blond’s face. Pain, fear, nervousness, joy, hope… and love.

“I’ll be right back.” Red climbed the stairs, leaving the wolf alone. He tested the bonds again. No dice. Tried to put enough force into lunging forward so the chain or strap would break, but he couldn’t get a good enough start to put the force he needed into it. The straps weren’t going to go anywhere unless he could get something sharp in his hands to cut at them, and with the limit in range there was no way for him to search for such an object.   

Pathetic. I guess these are the results I get for entrusting such a task to a mutt. Though I suppose there is still use for you. Have fun playing house, Punisher.

A fog-like pressure left his mind. God must have abandoned him now, as well. He slumped against the wall and kept his eyes trained on the stairwell. If he didn’t want to keep making pointless attempts at escaping, then this was all he could do until Red got back.  

Minutes dragged on like hours. Hours felt like days. Had hours even passed since Red left? There wasn't a storm window available for him to see if the light of day had vanished or not. The lantern still burned above him, occasionally crackling before falling back to silence. The Punisher counted the footsteps that he could hear above his head until they faded. When they came back, the count restarted. 

“Ok. Um… I have some bad news.” Red finally came back down the stairs. The large white cloth was folded neatly in his arms with a mysterious green bottle and collar resting on top of it. He continued, “Well, I doubt you really care much about it right now. You might not even remember it anymore… Do you remember your rosary?” He paused to allow The Punisher a moment to process what he was rambling about. I don't give a shit about any of this. I want to destroy you and get out of here. No matter how much he wished he could respond with a complete sentence, his vocal chords still refused to allow him the luxury of screaming at his pack mate, so he resorted to a guttural growl of disapproval. The blond sighed a quiet “Guess not.” 

Red sat down in front of him and held the collar up so that he could see in the limited light. “I couldn't find all of the beads or the string, so I hope this will do. I think the cross is probably the most important part of it anyway.” The collar was made of black leather, similar to the straps that bound him. A strange cross was affixed to the D-ring. It filled him with so many emotions. All negative. Fear. Paranoia. Regret, to name a few. His chest felt tight - or tighter than it already did - and he could swear that the air was being sucked out of him. And yet something reached out for it. Some part of him found comfort in seeing it safely returned to him. It was a necessary evil that he needed to keep it with him. 

The blond settles the collar into place around The Punisher's neck. The cross makes a home for itself just below the suprasternal notch, cold metal shocking his skin and slowly sucking in heat. Red takes a step back and gives him another once over, perhaps as a way to see if anything else might be missing. There is a certain curl at his lips, a gentle twitch at the corners before they part slightly and he lets out a long, breathy sigh. There is a pitch in his voice. “That… It… Well.” Red clears his throat and tries to formulate a coherent thought. “It kinda suits you? Not that I want you to look like an animal all the time! But… I don’t know. It’s normal for a priest to wear a collar! Yeah, priests have collars… So it goes really well with your outfit.” 

A priest? That can't be right, could it? I'm a weapon. God chose me to fight his battles. If anything, I'm a saint.

The Punisher’s gaze follows Red’s every move. He’s defenseless, helpless, restrained. Now would be the perfect time for the blond to strike him down or even just leave him to rot in this forgotten basement. So why did he come back? Why did he stay? Why did he keep talking to him in hushed tones? Keep reaching out to him? Keep smiling at him? Why? Why? Why him?

Red pressed his forehead against the caged wolf's, hands cupping his cheeks to keep him from flinching away or headbutting in retaliation. “Now, I just gotta clean you up and you'll be good as new.” The Punisher's face was released. For whatever reason, that simple action had started to douse the fire in his veins. Some feeling was trying to bubble to the surface, but fizzled out before he could fully grasp it. What was that? What are you doing to me, Red?

The cork was pulled free from the bottle's neck with a squeak. A strange smell slowly permeated the air. It made his nose crinkle involuntarily as a slight burn settled into his sinuses. Red let out a sheepish laugh, “Ah, it doesn't smell any better the second time around, does it? But… it really is all we've got if we want to make sure any remaining wounds are sterilized.” He sat for a moment, unmoving, looking around him for something to pour the fluid onto for a more focused cleaning. 

Yet it was when he started reaching for the cloth that The Punisher was able to find his voice. He threw himself forward, the chain rattling as it was drawn to its full length. A thousand claws racked his throat as the words fell in splinters. “Don't. Use. That. Something else. Anything else.” He was begging over a bedsheet. How had he fallen so low? But the overwhelming need to keep it pristine save for dust or sand made the thought of it being demoted to nothing more than a large rag made his stomach churn.

Red quickly retreated, setting the bottle down so he could hold both hands up for him. “Okay. Okay. I won't use it. I'll just… hmm. I have to have something…” He paced the room for a while contemplating his options. He ran a tail of his coat through his fingers, analyzing the cloth, teasing between his thumb and forefinger before nodding. A long, defeated sigh punctuated his return to the floor. “Alright.” Red folded over himself. The edge of one crimson tail was placed between his teeth. A few strings snapped as he unfurled, followed by the sound of fabric tearing. It wasn’t a clean square of fabric, more like a drawing of invisible borders.

The mysterious fluid was unceremoniously dumped onto the rag. The smell was even worse with it no longer contained. Small gelatinous smears quickly got flicked off. “Ew. Yeesh. Had no idea a liquor could do that . Can't believe we drank this. Oh… it has been a week or so though… Blugh.” Red seemed to get lost staring at the longest glob of sludge that had yet to fall from the bottle's mouth. He shook it, and it waved back at him. There was a sound - something between a squelch and a squeak - of the back half getting caught on the inside at the bottleneck. Perhaps this gross concoction consisted of a quarter or more of the once liquid. 

Don't tell me… You can't be that stupid. Red had licked his lips. It was quick, but he had definitely done it. He was contemplating tasting it, wasn't he? The Punisher didn't know if his brows could knit any closer together with the sheer amount of disgust he felt in watching the fool play with the goop. 

Luckily he did not have to be a witness to Red's curiosity. The distraction was set aside and his pack mate shucked off his coat to take a look at the damage that was done to his shoulder. It was angry, but The Punisher hadn't managed to break the skin through his coat. There was a still oozing stab wound in Red's side that needed attention. How long has that been there? He gingerly patted at it with the rag, wincing and hissing through his teeth each time it made contact.

That fire turned scorching. Red was injured. Red was injured and he wasn’t the one that dealt the blow. It came from someone else. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other because there was nothing else he could do in this state. No other way for him to relieve the building irritation. Possessive. He was feeling possessive over Red. His pack mate. His right hand. Red was his. His chest was heaving with each breath. If only he could track down the one that had done it. If only he could break free and continue his hunt to get revenge for the both of them. 

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Wolfwood…” Red scooted across the ground on his knees, taking the wolf back into his arms and shushing him. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. It’s not that deep. I’ll be fine. Just relax. Slow breath in-” He rubbed circles into the black fabric of his back, his shoulders, his arms, as he walked through breathing exercises. There was still that ever present static in his veins, but he was getting closer to neutral again.

Red flipped the rag over and used the other side to clean the wolf's forehead. The dead air was filled with his voice, the blond sharing his next course of action aloud. “I'll need to retrieve the bike for the rest of our supplies. I might take a look around while I'm out there. See what I can find. There has to be a reason they built this place here.” 

With the blood wiped clean, Red moved his coat so that it was bundled up close enough for The Punisher to reach. And then, he left again. Ascended the staircase and went outside, the click of the door above him punctuating that the wolf was now completely alone in the building once more. White fabric folded neatly to one side of him, and that crimson fur resting on the other. 

He was so tired.

So tired…

A melody was carried on the breeze. A soft tune, one long forgotten. Nicholas wandered the packed ground. The sky and horizon were a blinding light. Details were hard to make out, like water was spilt on a crayon drawing. There were chickens gathered within a corral, surrounding a pile of grain. He stopped to observe them, a certain affinity swelling within his chest. Two chicks stood in the corner, one black as night and one the purest of white. Watching. Unmoving. Uninvited to the feast. The white one turned its head to him and spoke with a human voice, “Why did you leave, Nico? We could have all been happy here.”

He backed away, eyes trained on the little chick. “What?” 

“You always worry about the happiness of others. But what about your happiness, Nico? When will you allow yourself to be happy?” 

A red ribbon floats in front of him as the chick just keeps repeating in the same, droning tone “When will you allow yourself to be happy?” Nicholas reaches out for the ribbon, but it floats away. He chases it, hand outstretched, but it stays just out of reach. It grows bigger, longer, wider, slowly takes shape. Blond spikes, red coat, black boots. He keeps chasing it. Chasing it. Chasing him . Chasing. 

The red figure looks over his shoulder. He can’t make out any features other than a strained smile. The mouth moves, but he isn’t able to hear what it says. The ground turns from packed sand to red flowers. More and more and more. A field of red flowers that he has never seen before. The figure stops and even though he could keep approaching, finally touch him, finally catch him, Nicholas stops too. 

“I’m here. I’m waiting for you.”

The figure bursts into the same flowers that surround them, but the red coat falls to the ground in a heap.

Nicholas stands alone.

His cheek is pressed against a bundled ball of fabric. The scent attached to it is familiar, comforting, warm and floral. It is a struggle to convince his eyes to open. His torso aches and every tendon creaks and strains through micromovements as he tries to stretch. Resistance. He tries to get an arm beneath him to get up into a sitting position, but can’t seem to move it from behind his back. His wrists chafe against leather as he wiggles them against binds. “Fuck… What?” His eyes finally manage to crack open. That same coat from his dreams is the fabric pressed to his face. A thin wire metal cage sits just in front of his eyes.

A surprised, hushed voice calls out to him. “Nico? Wolfwood? Hey. How do you feel?” That voice… It’s the same. Who…? That’s right. Vash. I was chasing Vash. Vash helps him sit up, his expression a mix of overwhelming worry and relief. Tears are already spilling down his cheeks and he pulls his hands away as if he could break the priest sitting in front of him with another touch. “Wolfwood? Are you… back?” 

“What the shit is that supposed to mean, Vash? What happened?”

The spikey haired buffoon threw himself onto Wolfwood, constricting around him as he whooped and cheered for no reason at all. “Fucking hell, Spikey! Knock it off, that really fucking hurts!”

Vash was babbling at an ile per minute, high and whinny as the floodgates completely broke. “I was so worried! When I got back you were asleep, but then you didn’t wake up no matter what I did and every time I came back to check on you, you hadn’t moved, not even a little! It’s already been two days, so I was starting to think that you had fallen into a coma or something and I don’t know how I would ever-”

Wolfwood would have slapped his hand over Spikey’s mouth if he could, but he had to settle for the next best thing. He kneed him with as much force as he could muster, square in the stomach. Vash fell back dramatically, rolling back and forth as he howled before suddenly stopping with a sniffle. “That was so mean, Wolfwood! And to think I took such great care of you!” 

“‘Great care of me?’ Is that what you call all of this?” Wolfwood wiggled awkwardly to do a vague gesture at his current appearance, the chain rattling behind him aiding in showcasing his point.

“Ah. I… I’ll tell you all about it after we get out of here. There’s a place nearby I think we can stay at now.”         

That was how he met him. Vash the Stampede was slowly releasing the leather straps that bound him and leading him out of the musty basement into the light of the midday suns. He placed a reassuring hand on Wolfwood’s shoulder and smiled softly. The priest’s mind flooded with dopamine and offered only one thought.

I need to protect that smile. I need to guide him.   

Chapter Text

Wolfwood rubbed at his wrists, the phantom touch of the binds still lingering even a day later. Vash was right, the town nearby had already long forgotten the news about Vash the Stampede destroying the landmark of Julai and the two weary travelers were able to get a bed for the night at a reasonable price.

But sleep can only heal so many wounds. For Vash, it only seemed to tear them open. He kept fretting over the priest, waking him up whenever he spent too long in one position or his breathing drew too light. The first few times, it annoyed him and all he did was grumble back as he turned over. But the more he was pulled out of his slumber, the more concerned he got for the blond's peace of mind.

“Sorry… Had a bad dream. Needed to make sure you were okay.”

“Sorry, I thought I might have lost you again.”

“Sorry-” “Sorry-” “Wolfwood? Ah, sorry I-” “Ah, sorry. Go back to sleep.”

Vash had chosen to keep rather tight lipped about what had gone down in that building. They went in, split up, and then whatever had happened upstairs made him lose consciousness. But that didn't explain why he had woken in a muzzle and restrained. Why Vash had looked so scared at first. Why he had been crying. Whenever Wolfwood pressed for more details, Vash would just shake his head. “It's not something you need to be reminded of. You shouldn't have to remember anything more than that.” 

Who was Vash trying to protect by withholding the information: Wolfwood or himself?

The two of them left the hotel room with dark circles beneath their eyes. While it truly had been the best sleep either of them had gotten in ages now, it wasn’t any more restful than if they were still on the lamb making beds in the sand. They watched the sun rise as they sat in awkward silence on a bench in the town square. It was a quiet town in the morning. No hustle and bustle, no criers on street corners, no angry thoma squawking at the stablehand. Only the sound of water splashing in the fountain greeted the new dawn.

When the suns had finally changed the sky from orange to blue, children slowly gathered in the square. First one, standing alone. Tapping his foot and looking around as he waited. Then there were three, one with a ball. They were joyfully chatting about what games they would play and how excited they were for the others to arrive. And then the group filled out, six total as they started running and laughing, throwing the ball around with reckless abandon. 

Wolfwood had already finished his second cigarette and was about to light his third when Vash finally spoke up. “Is there… is there anything you want to ask me, Nico? Like… about your past?” He caught the way Vash’s hands gripped at his thighs from the corner of his eye. Vash hadn’t turned his head, his gaze fixed on the children playing in front of them.

The question seemed to have come out of left field. I doubt he means ‘the past’ as in yesterday, otherwise he would have launched into telling me about it already instead of playing mind games. So why? What exactly are you asking me? “Nothin’ comes to mind, no. I know who I am and that I’m traveling with you because we’re partners. Gotta look out for each other. That’s all I need.” Wolfwood’s lighter was giving him a hard time, sparking but never holding a proper flame. Maybe it was about time for him to get a new one. Something had put several dents into the body. Whatever had done that may have damaged the valve, too, and Wolfwood had no idea if it would be worth it to try and find someone that could fix it. 

Vash relaxed a little and slung an arm over the back of the bench, but the other hand continued to pat nervously at his thigh. A slow smile blossomed, one of reminisce, as he let a long breath out from his nose. Yet something about the expression was still sullen. That only meant one thing. Spikey had something on his mind, but couldn’t seem to find the words he was looking for. Or maybe Wolfwood had failed to respond in the way he had wanted. Vash’s arm moved to wrap around the priest’s shoulders.Wolfwood took that as a sign that he should be closer, stop being so physically distant from the blond if he was going to be emotionally so. He complied, spreading his legs wider so that they bumped knees before returning to the arduous task of convincing the lighter to catch. Flick. Flick. Flick. Like the ticking of a clock.

“Hey… Can you tell me about the kids at the orphanage? Were any of them as rambunctious as these guys? What games you would play together? Who gave you the nickname ‘Nico’?”

He finally got it to light. Wolfwood took a long drag. The smoke billowed out slowly as if it, too, were contemplative about the questions. Another drag, short and precise. “Can't remember. I know I grew up in an orphanage, but it feels like I was completely alone there. I know that can't be right, but not a single name or face will come back to me.” He rolled the cigarette between his fingers, the ash drifting to the ground. Once it hit the sand, he couldn't see it anymore. Grey lost within the sea of grain.

Vash nodded slowly. He was still watching those kids play. “You know… I don't think you've ever mentioned their names. But you would speak of them like family. You care about them, Wolfwood.” His hand gave the priest's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

Wolfwood could see that Vash was waiting for him. It was in the tension of his jaw. In the creases that drew in faint, wavered lines on his forehead. He wanted to keep poking the priest’s brain for things. See if there was anything he wanted to know. Any questions he could answer because he was going to be the bridge for the broken synapses and hole-punched hippocampus. That was the problem with being put on the spot: you never know what you want to ask about until you realize that you don’t have the answer when you need it. So Wolfwood tried to think of any scenario, anything at all, that he would need to know the answer - need the memory - to.

That’s when he realized. He didn’t have the answer to the most important thing. He stared down at his hands, past them to the bench framed between his spread thighs, past that to the ground at his feet. “So… How do I know you? Aside from us being traveling companions, I feel like I just met you yesterday. But I know you. And I have known you.” He took a deep breath and turned his gaze to the blond. No, that isn’t what I really want to ask. That’s too broad. I need to understand why I feel so many things that I can’t understand around him. The real question is- “What are we, Vash?”

It must have really caught him off guard. The man before him took a sharp breath through his nose, a choked noise coming from his throat like he had swallowed his saliva wrong. Vash looked hurt, broken, shattered, and yet a blush was slowly blooming across his cheeks. He giggled and rubbed at the back of his neck, “Well… We… We’re partners, of course.”

“And?” 

“And…” Vash whistled, like this was the toughest question he could have possibly gotten. Like he was about to give ‘The Talk’ to one of the children right now. “And.” This one was almost a statement with the way the word hung in the air. 

Vash was finally looking at him, though his eyes were obscured by the light reflecting off of his glasses before he leaned in just enough for Wolfwood to be able to see through them again. He caught Wolfwood’s chin, continued leaning in. Eyes half-lidded. Lips slightly parted. But he didn’t close the gap. He was waiting on Wolfwood. He was waiting for Nicholas to decide what ‘and’ meant to him, because he couldn’t remember. Vash wasn’t going to tell him, because Vash wasn’t going to decide for him what they were now.

His brain might not be able to remember what they had, but his body did. His heart did. Wolfwood closed the distance. Took this new first kiss and let it fill all of the hurt and loss with love. We are partners. In every sense of the word. Soft. Warm. Gentle. Vash’s kiss was all of these things. It was a shelter in a heavy wind storm. It was a gentle fire in the dead of night. It was comfort. It was love. It was home. 

It was over far too soon.

Vash was smiling from ear to ear. The blush had only gotten larger. He let out a puff of air and placed a hand over his heart as everything returned to as it was before. “You found your answer. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t relieved. Ahh, my heart might explode from how nervous I was!”

Wolfwood had to stop himself from mirroring Vash’s reaction. His heart was pounding, his face felt hot, everything felt uncomfortably warm and tingly. It felt horrible, and yet it felt right. He tried to play it off by continuing his smoke with as much nonchalant confidence as he could muster. Should he try to think of something witty to say? Should he be saying something right now?

“Thank you…” The only thing he could settle on. Words just as loaded as Vash’s ‘and’ had been. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for being so unapologetically Vash.

Though, sometimes, it was a bad thing that he was unapologetically himself. Because Vash doesn’t know what timing is.        

There was a deep breath. A perfect moment of silence. And then he asked a question to completely ruin the perfect time that they were having. “Do you remember where the orphanage is?”

Wolfwood's voice prickled. Subconsciously, he brought his legs closer together and pulled away from Vash's touch, closing himself off once more. “Why? What are you suggesting, Spikey?”

“I think you should go visit. Maybe it will help.”

“I don't even know where it is. Where I'm from.” Irritation was building. Nervousness was bubbling in his gut. He started jumping to conclusions. What if it doesn't even exist anymore? What if I'm just assuming I'm an orphan because I don't remember having parents? What if- What if- What if-

He was pulled back to Gunsmoke by Vash’s angelic calm voice and gentle hand on his cheek. Wolfwood looked into blue eyes through the gunman’s yellow lenses, the hue changing to a brilliant aquamarine. “It’s okay, Nico. I can find out where it is. You told me during the bus ride that you came from Hopeland Orphanage. Surely someone around town knows where that is.” Bus ride? Probably one of the ‘befores’ that I don’t remember… 

Vash launches off of the bench, his mind made up. Right as he opens his mouth to start on a new monologue of reassurances, a ball slams into his face. He topples over the back of the bench as Wolfwood quickly scoots as close as he can to the armrest on the opposite end. The kids all come rushing over with apologies spilling out of their mouths. 

Vash pops back up, the ball being held to his lips through suction, as he starts chasing the kids about. They scream, shrill in the way that children do when they are overjoyed and having fun. He stops and lets the ball drop into his hands. 

The ball was returned, but he stays squatting down so that he is on their level. Wolfwood watches as his partner starts talking to them in hushed tones. Sometimes he points Wolfwood’s way. They all laugh. 

Wolfwood decides to let his gaze wander away. A few adults walk the edges of the square. It seems like there is an agreement that it should be left open for the kids to have plenty of space for whatever games they desire to play. A little girl stands off in the shadows, kicking at the dirt as she watches the group. 

The priest goes to her. He approaches slowly, a kind smile on his lips as he tosses the cigarette to the ground and stubs it beneath his shoe. “Hey, kiddo. Why are you standing all the way over here? Don’t you want to play with them?”

She nods, but remains silent. Her eyes turn to the ground and she sways side to side, watching her dress fan out with each twist. 

“Well, you should head over there. They won’t know you want to play if you’re all the way over here.”     

Her frown only grows at the statement. “But that makes an odd number… and I'm not friends with them.” She kicks up more dust.

Wolfwood makes sure that his smile doesn't waver, but sighs through his nose and looks over his shoulder to the group. “That was true a few moments ago, but look-” He hooks his thumb over in the direction of Vash, who is still running around with all the kids. They continued whatever game they had been playing with ease despite the new member jumping in. “Doesn't look like the odd number bothers them much, now does it? And neither of us are even from town. Just rolled in yesterday.”

He can see the girl had started watching in awe at the lanky man running around with the children, laughing and clearly holding back to keep the game fair. 

Some points it really felt like he was overdoing it, but the children were howling with laughter when his theatrics hit the extreme. One kid threw the ball at Vash. He allowed it to hit his thigh with a loud twang of rubber. He collapsed to the ground, yowling all the while. “Aaaaaaah! You got me! I can't go on!” He reached his hand out to one of the younger boys, his voice still just as loud but with a certain raspiness layered in, “Save yourself. It's too late for me.”

Wolfwood snickered and looked at the little girl again. “So, still think they wouldn't let you play with them? Because they seem pretty eager to have people join if you ask me.”As if on cue, the ball rolls toward the pair of outliers. It taps Wolfwood’s foot before coming to a stop. He grabs it and holds it out for the girl to take. “Go on. Join them. Who knows, you could be the one they are waiting for to start a new game.”

Her eyes light up as she takes the ball into her hands and holds it close. She gives Wolfwood a quick nod before scurrying off with a giggle. He pulls a new cigarette out and clamps the filter between a toothy grin. That’a girl. Don’t let fun pass you by. The priest continued watching everyone from the shadows, the kids trying to determine if one team should get two extra kids so it is even against Vash.

Strange… something about this feels familiar. It was little more than a flicker, but it was there. A little boy with white hair. A little white chick. Sitting alone. Nicholas had approached him. Said something. Wiped tears off of reddened cheeks and stayed by his side. 

It vanished. 

Wolfwood pulls himself back to reality. Vash turned to look at him. The blond tilts his head toward the kids, a silent question of ‘What about you? You coming?’ on his face that Wolfwood quickly shrugs off. No point in having two full grown adults in play, plus it would just make the kids have an odd number of people to deal with and complicate the delicate team balance further.

A guard dog watches over its herd of thoma from the shadows, after all. 

They all were able to play for another hour before a few parents came to the square to gather their children for lunch. They talked to Vash for a bit. Wolfwood didn't catch any of their conversations, but was sure he could guess what they were about. Something along the lines of apologizing for him getting dragged into their games and making sure that they weren't giving him trouble, which of course was given a smile and shake of the head.

Wolfwood chose to spend the rest of his day doing odd jobs around town, sneaking out of the square while Vash was busy chatting. The two of them were going to need some more money and supplies so that they could leave. He wasn’t sure why they would need to leave so soon, but there was that feeling, that unknown pressure deep in his bones, that told him someone was on the hunt for them. That something bad was coming their way.

So he ran errands for people. Helped wives clean their houses. Did an elderly couple’s laundry and listened to their medical problems - though that wasn’t part of his job description, so he really just tuned them out. Got dirty helping the stablehand and was given a cut of the boy’s pay for the day, much to the kid’s dismay - he was probably hoping that the boss would have let him handle how the payment got split. By the evening, Wolfwood was helping the barmaids set tables and prepping food for the night rush that he would surely be attending as a customer. An honest day's work meant that he should get to indulge in his more expensive vice, after all.    

Wolfwood’s gaze shot to the doors when the first wave of customers started trickling in. At the head of the pack was the crimson coat that he had failed to cross paths with all day. Vash was clearly scanning the room for him, probably had been looking for him all over town for a while with how his chest heaved with every breath. The priest waved him over and he practically skipped to the table with glee. 

This was probably the most chipper he had ever seen the blond. He was beaming with pride. “You’ll never guess what I was doing all day~.”

“Oh yeah? Bet you can’t guess what I did with mine, either.”

Vash rested his chin on folded hands, a cat’s smile curling his mouth. “Okay, hmm…” He clasped his hands together in mock prayer and turned his gaze to the rafters. “You were going around town helping poor souls in need while asking for donations to the church.” 

That’s… weirdly specific. Is that something I used to do? Wolfwood could feel the confusion settle in his brows. He felt strangely uneasy, like he was an imposter in his own skin. “Uh… not… quite? I was helping people, yes, but for money and supplies for us. So that we don’t have to worry about funds and food. I figure we are going to be leaving sooner or later.”

Vash’s nervous tick returned and he tittered uncomfortably. “Ah, right. Right… Well, how much did you get?” 

“Well, we get a full course here for free tonight and there’s a chance - a small chance, mind you, but a chance - that some of the girls working tonight will share their tips with me, some Wam meat, a few bandage rolls, and a little under $$200.”

Vash whistled, unintentionally grabbing the attention of one of the barmaids as she passed their table. She was a prickly type, but relaxed a little when she realized that Wolfwood was at the table too. “Ah, sorry! That wasn’t… I didn’t- Ahhaha… well, since you’re here… can we get a bottle of whiskey? The cheapest you have, if you don’t mind?” Vash had slowly started sinking away from her. It looked like he would completely melt to the floor if she continued staring at him long enough. She huffed and scribbled something down on her notepad, passed the sheet to Wolfwood, and then stomped away.

The note read in scratchy writing “He’s cute. See why you like him so much. Tell me more about him later” with the smallest heart acting as a period at the end.

Maybe Wolfwood had blabbed a bit too much about a certain ‘Blondie’ while he was cleaning the floors. 

The priest quickly pocketed the note and let out a heavy sigh, playing it off as if he had just read an empty death threat. He steered the conversation back to where they left off. “So, what did you do today that has you so giddy?”

Vash perked up immediately, puffing out his chest in triumph. “I found out where our next destination is. And since you did so well gathering supplies for us, we could probably head out in the morning.” He lowered his voice and placed a hand over Wolfwood’s, giving him a small squeeze. “That is… If you want to. If you are ready.” 

He tried to contain himself, but the whirlwind of emotions almost swept him away. He wasn’t entirely sure how he should take the news. Should he be overjoyed? Nervous? Sad? Angry? His voice also wasn’t sure where it should land, settling on a monotone whisper. “You… you found out where it is? The orphanage. It’s real?” 

Vash slowly draped himself over the table so that he could stroke the priest’s cheek. He hadn’t realized that a tear had broken free until Vash swiped it away. “Of course it’s real, Nico. It’s in December. Not too far from here. If we leave in the morning, we can get there before the next dawn if we only stop when we need to refuel.”

Wolfwood could feel himself longing for this quiet life to never end. Longing for a future where they could live together in this cute little town and play with the children every morning just as they had today. If it wasn't for that impending feeling of dread, Wolfwood was sure that Vash would want to stay here for more than a day. He'd love to stay anywhere in No Man's Land for more than a week, but that wasn't the life Vash the Stampede had the privilege of living. It definitely wasn't the life that Nicholas the Punisher was worthy of living. 

So he accepted his fate. Vash wants him to return home and hopefully recover the memories that had scattered to the four winds piece by piece. They had no other plans. Nowhere else they wanted to go. There was no sense in them trying to push their luck and overstay their welcome. This town didn’t deserve it. Some places don’t deserve to be struck by catastrophe if they can help it. 

The bar had finished filling out, the noise level settling right where it should be. Dead air no longer existed, private conversation becoming impossible as the atmosphere of where they were invited strangers to jump in should the topic interest them. If the two of them were to discuss their plans, their thoughts, their hopes, their desires, then they were going to have to wait until they had safely returned to their temporary abode.

One of the kinder barmaids was the one to drop off the bottle of liquid courage that Vash had requested. She also slid an envelope Wolfwood’s way with a wink. “Here, hun. A lil’ somethin’ from all of us. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when y’all are the only ones really chattin’ here, ‘s a bit hard not to listen in.” She gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder and thumbs up before returning to her section as if she had never stopped.

The envelope had the bar’s name written across the front of it. Wolfwood didn’t know what he should do with it. He looked to Vash, who raised a brow and motioned for him to go ahead and open it. What waited inside was a letter folded neatly around $$100 and the bar’s business card. The writing was a perfect match to the little note he had gotten from the thorn princess. “For the orphanage. You shouldn’t go home empty handed. Stop by if you ever come back to Solstice.” There were signatures lining the bottom. The names of every member of staff that he had met today. 

The priest felt his throat begin to constrict. There was a knot that bobbed as he swallowed. They will remember me. Wolfwood quickly folded the paper back up and stuffed it and the money back into the envelope. He passed it over to Vash. “Hold on to that for me, okay?”

Vash hesitated, but took it in the end. “Are you sure? It seems pretty important.” I wonder if he can tell that it got me all choked up. The letter disappeared into Vash’s coat, hidden away wherever he stores things in there.

Wolfwood planted his elbow against the hardwood table and propped his chin in his palm. He poured them each a shot with his free hand. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t’ve handed it to you. You’re in charge of helping me remember things, aren't cha? So you should hold on to it.”

The tink of their shot glasses rang out. A silent toast to their tomorrows. For a moment, it felt like everything around them had fallen away and it was just the two of them. Vash was smiling. For once, he was just smiling.  

Their food slowly began to make its way from the kitchen to crowd their table. They picked at the trays gingerly, savouring every bite. But when it came to the bottles of booze they were downed like the two of them had never had a single thing to drink in their lives. After that initial shot, the race was on. There was no reason for them to hold back. Future Vash and Wolfwood could deal with the hangover in the morning, but they would be grateful for the amazing sleep they were going to get once their bodies made contact with a soft bed.

Wolfwood rode the haze of alcohol much better than he did the everyday brain fog he had developed. He didn’t remember leaving the bar. He didn’t remember the walk back to their room. He didn’t feel like he was present until the door had closed and he was curled up in bed with Vash. But he didn’t mind, because he knew that he had felt free the whole time. Light as a feather.

They held each other close. Vash kept whispering sweet nothings that Wolfwood couldn’t quite make out until they both had been lulled to sleep by the warmth.  

They really should have held back. 

Future Vash and Wolfwood were now present. Light had yet to start creeping in through the window. The priest was woken up by his bed mate bolting for the bathroom, his gait clumsy like a newborn thomas. There was the thud of him falling to his knees. A beat. And then the sound of Vash purging the poison that they had consumed last night. 

Wolfwood slowly peeled himself from the warm safety of the sheets. His hands rubbed the sleep off of his face, ran through his hair, and then one hand instinctively tried to grasp something that should have been resting near his naval. He pawed at the empty air for a moment in confusion. Odd… What was I reaching for? 

He shook the loose screws out of his head and stood with a groan. So, how were we looking this morning? His shirt was completely unbuttoned, wrinkled, and hanging off one shoulder. His pants had been successfully discarded on the floor right next to his side of the bed along with his suit coat. Wolfwood dug through the pockets to retrieve his lighter and a cigarette before moving over to the window. He caught his reflection. Squinted eyes full of sleep, unkempt hair with several cowlicks going in every direction, and dark bruises lining his collarbone and speckling each of his pecs.

The reflection disappeared as the window was opened. Luminescent green danced around town. It would have been beautiful if he didn't have such a violent reaction to the sight. They're coming after Vash. We need to get moving. He finished his ‘breakfast’ quickly and shut the window before any of them could come close enough to sneak in.

“Ugh… Nico, do you have to be so noisy? I feel like my head is going to fall off and roll away.” Good, Vash was finally free from his morning prayer at the porcelain throne.

Wolfwood started arranging himself into his standard attire. “Gotta make sure you don't fall asleep before we get you situated in the sidecar. Get dressed, we need to get moving.” 

Vash grumbled, mockingly repeating what the priest had said as he pulled on his pants and fussed with all of the belts. “You sure seem eager for someone who was nervous about leaving.”

“Call it ‘a change of heart’ if it makes you feel better. Hurry up.” He scooped Vash's bag under his arm and took up the giant cross. He was about to open the door and head outside before Vash grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn around. 

“What's got you so jumpy, Nico?”

Wolfwood looked around as if there were other people who might overhear their conversation in the room. “I don't know. I just have this feeling. There's something coming or watching or I don't know what, but it’s bad and I don't want anyone here getting hurt.”

That seemed to snap Vash out of his half-asleep stupor. He pulled on his coat and retrieved his bag from the priest without another word. They left their room key on the counter along with the fee for the night. The bike engine roared to life. And just as they had come, they left Solstice without a single soul to witness it.

Wolfwood went in the opposite direction of the insects. If there was a chance that the small swarm was a sign, then he was going to make sure that they didn’t run head first into it. It was just light enough for him to see any stray boulders in the desert despite the sky still being coated with night. The two moons that lingered were in their waning crescents, so it wouldn’t have been any brighter than this had they left any earlier. 

An hour of them listening to nothing but the crunch of sand beneath their tires and the purr of the engine. They came upon their first fuel stop as morning lavender was creeping across the horizon, highlighting a sandstorm’s cloud. The two dismounted and stared in awe. “Nico… It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve only seen a sunrise look like this a handful of times, but each time it feels almost magical.” 

“It is.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say and turned to start pumping fuel. His mind began piecing things together in ways that it shouldn’t. Maybe his nerves were getting to him, but first the insects outside of the hotel and now a rare purple sunrise? Was it luck or an omen? Both of these things are events of wonder, of beauty, things that normal people would look forward to seeing should they ever have the chance. But Wolfwood wasn’t a normal person.  He had been marked with death for as long as he could remember… which arguably wasn’t all that long, but still. He leaned against the bike, careful not to put too much of his weight against it. His teeth started gnawing at the inside of his cheek, looking for something to busy themselves with as his mind continued racing about. 

“Nico,” Vash stepped in front of him, planting a chaste peck on his lips, “You’re thinking too much. It’s written all over your face. Everything is going to be okay.” Says the optimist to the pessimist. Wolfwood was pulled into a hug, Vash’s hand cupping the back of his head while the other wrapped around his waist like he was fragile. “I promise.”

The pump clicked. Vash released him and turned on his heel to go pay what they owed to the clerk inside. Wolfwood turned his gaze back to the horizon where the sky had taken on its standard early morning orange. The top of the first sun was cresting, the sand cloud making it bearable to look at.

Vash came scrambling out of the small building, various objects flying behind him as they were hurled by an unknown assailant. “Drive, drive, drive, drive, drive!!”

Wolfwood all but threw himself onto the seat and brought the engine back to life in a smooth motion. Once Vash was in the sidecar he peeled out of there, Wolfwood screaming over the wind. “The hell did you do, Spikey?!” When he looked back over his shoulder the red faced shop owner was shaking his fist at the two of them while yelling something.

“I didn’t do anything, honest! He just really doesn’t like me, I guess.” 

“He recognized you, didn’t he?” 

“Well,” Vash held his own chin with a smolder, “People don’t forget a face like this easily, you know?” He followed it with a ridiculous laugh that could only be compared to repeated squawking, his face turned up to the sky. 

It was really grating on his nerves. And Vash just. Kept. Going. “You’re pissin’ me off!” Wolfwood braked. Hard. He was able to brace himself so that the bike rising onto its front tire wouldn’t throw him off, but the blond didn’t have a clue what was happening. Vash was sent flying by inertia, his laugh being cut off by a mouthful of sand as he slid on his face for maybe two yarz. The motorcycle idled. Wolfwood pulled out a new pack of cigarettes and smacked the top against his palm before taking one and popping it between his lips, his eyes never leaving the crimson worm that lay unmoving on the ground. That wouldn’t kill him… would it? Maybe that was a bit of an overreaction on my part. But… Wolfwood snorted. He was trying so hard to keep stone-faced, but it was just too funny, especially as Vash peeled himself off of the ground and he returned to the bike in silence. Sand completely coated the front of him. His expression was vacant, lips drawn in a thin line like he was still trying to process what had just happened.

Wolfwood stubbed out his cigarette and returned it to the pack so it could be finished later. There's nothing worse than having ash fly into his eye just because he was too impatient to wait for when they hit their next stop. Vash huffed out of his nose a few times, the bridge scrunching up each time. It was kinda cute. Really cute, even. 

Vash looked over and started chuckling as he rubbed the underside of his nose with his index finger. “Wow, I left quite a mark in the sand. Think that might be the farthest I have ever skid.”

“What, you get sent into the sand face-first often, Needle-noggin’?”

His laughter peaked at that, full and hearty, ending in a drawn out sigh. “Haaa. Not really, but this definitely isn't the first time and probably won't be the last.” He shook out the sand from his hair, a few of the spikes falling limp after ruffling his hand through it. A mischievous smirk graced his lips as he added, “Especially not with you driving.” 

Wolfwood got a vexatious idea of his own at that comment. “Is that so?” were the last words spoken before he revved the engine and launched. Vash was sent careening back with a startled yelp, practically flipping upside down in the sidecar just to keep himself from tumbling out.

The next several iles were filled with playful banter and laughter. Their hearts were light and their hopes were high as the journey finally started to feel more like a road trip than a death march. That’s right. We may be drifters, and Vash may be on the run for the rest of his life, but that doesn’t mean that there will always be destruction waiting for us wherever we go. We’re just going to make a stop in December and visit the orphanage. Maybe chat with the people there and learn more about myself. What’s the worst that can happen?  

For a moment, Wolfwood could swear that he heard someone else laughing, overlapping Vash’s high-energy chuckle. Strangely similar to Vash’s, yet filled with malice. He shook it off and focused on maintaining their current route.

The suns were closing in on the peak of their journey across the sky by the time their next stop came into view. It was a small town, not much bigger than Solstice, that was still recovering from a landslide that had taken a few of the buildings on the outer edge out. The offending rock face almost appeared to have been cut by something, a large chunk missing from the edge that overlooked town. Vash whistled at the sight. “That sure does bring me back. I was kinda hoping that they would have been able to finish with clean up and repairs by now.” 

Wolfwood slowed in their approach as a precaution. If Vash was the cause of the rockslide then it may be best for them to push their luck and avoid the place just in case someone gets the bright idea of starting something. The urge to point something out, call Vash a certain name, washed through his mind like water. Slow. Sweeping. But what was it? What did everyone call him?

“The Humanoid Typhoon.” Vash answered. Had he read Wolfwood’s mind or did Wolfwood accidentally say what he was thinking aloud without even realizing it? Either way, Vash seemed rather pleased despite the pain that hid within his eyes. 

“They definitely didn’t call you that for nothing. You want me to go around?” 

Vash took a moment to think. He shuffled his limbs about, testing how bad his joints were creaking from being confined in such a small space for an extended period of time. He winced when he tried to prop his legs up over the front of the sidecar. That seemed to finalize his decision. “No. If something goes wrong, we’ll just do the same thing we did at the last stop: run.” 

They did everything they could to keep out of sight. Wolfwood was the one to go talk to the store owner for fuel, of which they didn’t have much that he could purchase since the rest went to the machines that were still excavating the other side of town. Understandable, really. The interaction remained uneventful, he got enough to last them a while and returned to the back alley that Vash had told him to hide the bike in.

“How did it go?” 

Wolfwood couldn’t hide the exhaustion that the interaction had caused from leaking into his tone as he shoved the nose of the gas canister into the tank. “‘Bout the same as any other conversation between a complete stranger and a shop owner could go. ‘Haven’t seen you ‘round these parts.’ ‘Oh, where ya headin’ that you’ll need all this fuel for?’ ‘Odd that you wouldn’t want to stay longer ‘n help a small town out a little. What’s the rush for?’ You know, that kind of thing.”

Vash was using the wall to stretch, long limbs bending in near impossible ways as satisfied groans occasionally rumbled from his throat. “At least you got what we were after. Imagine if you went through all that just to be told that they didn’t have any fuel left!” 

“Eh, pretty close, though. He almost didn’t sell me this in case some guys working at the edge needed to pick some up. He was asking some extortionist prices, mind you. I practically had to get on my knees and beg just to get this much at a reasonable price. We’ll have to make another stop the next place we see or we’ll be walking for several iles.”

A voice called out from the end of the alley. A girl’s voice which was full of excitement. “Oh my! Ms. Meryl, I really did hear them. Look! Look!”

Wolfwood pulled the canister free and plugged it quickly. Someone was coming. Someone that recognizes them. But there was no way for him to turn the bike around to go down the other side quick enough for an escape, the pathway was too narrow. He grabbed at the hulking cross and held it in front of him as a barricade. “Vash, run! I’ll distract them and come find you later.”

“Hold on, Wolfwood. Easy, it’s-”

“Vash!” A short girl dressed in white was storming toward them, the tall one keeping close behind. She spoke quickly like each word was a dagger that would pin Vash into place. “How could you just run off like that! And making it so hard for us to track you down? Honestly. If you don’t like us so much, that’s fine, but it is still our job to keep an eye on you and your destructive tendencies. At least give us a better hint at which direction you went!”

Vash pushed the cross aside and stepped between the priest and the fuming girl. He pouted and placed his hands on her shoulders. “If I had left a better hint, then other people would have been able to track me down, too. We wouldn’t want me to be locked away now, would we?”

She brushed him off and stepped back with her arms crossed. “Sometimes I start to think that it would be better if you were.” 

“That’s not true, Ms.Meryl. You even mentioned a few times that you were worried someone else had found him and locked him away already.”

Wolfwood leaned the cross up against the wall and watched in silence. The tall one took notice of his gaze and waved at him while the short one and Vash continued their back and forth for a while longer. When he didn’t do anything in response her face fell and she cut the others off. “Hey, Mr.Vash? Did something happen after you and Mr.Wolfwood left Julai? Something seems off, like there is something really bothering him.” 

Vash looked over his shoulder to Wolfwood and then back to the girls. It dawned on him that he hadn’t explained anything to either party yet. “Oh! Right! Wolfwood, you probably can’t remember, but these are the insurance girls.” Vash motioned to the one with the fiery temper “Meryl” and then the sweetheart that was concerned about him “and Milly. They’re friends of ours.”          

Wolfwood allowed himself to lower his guard a little. Not much, but enough for everyone else to relax too. I guess we wouldn't be standing around chatting if they were going to rat us out to the local authorities. 

Meryl's fire was completely doused as she took a deep breath through her nose. She sounded so small. Too small. “Did… did it happen again? Like in Mei?”

Vash seemed taken aback. “You knew it was Wolfwood?”

“Well, I had my suspicions. There was no way you could have done it, Vash. You all but confirmed that in Julai. So… it could have only been him.”

Wait. Wait a minute. What did I do in Mei? His head was pounding with a pain that could only be compared to having a spike slowly hammered through his skull. But he wanted to know what they were talking about. He wanted to know why the girls were now looking at him like he had grown a new limb from his back.

Milly seemed to be in disbelief about what the two of them were referring to despite her silence. Not in the way that she wasn't able to connect the dots, but like she couldn't believe what they were insinuating.

Meryl continues to speak for the both of them. “So, he doesn't remember us at all? Why?”

“When… Sometimes he…  When he…” Vash fumbles around his words, not knowing how many details he can entrust to the girls. He settled on the bare minimum. “He's slowly been forgetting all kinds of things. That's part of why I needed to keep him with me. I am standing in for those missing memories.”

“Like amnesia?”

Wolfwood cut in this time. It was his condition, after all, so he should be the one to name it. “Think of it more like dementia. I can still recall elements of memories, just not the whole picture.” 

“But you’re still so young, Mr. Wolfwood! I’ve only heard of the elderly getting dementia. My grandmama is the only one that has told me once that I may need to start introducing myself to her again because her memory is getting foggy.”

Meryl and Milly both seemed to be staring him down. Scanning his face for any signs of a lie. Checking to see if this was all just another excuse to put distance between the two sets of traveling companions. Believe what you want. I’m not going to fight to convince you. Wolfwood turned his back on them and retrieved the cross, getting her resettled on the makeshift weapon rack they had attached to the back of the bike. Something about their prying was starting to grate on his nerves and the added commotion was only going to draw more attention to the alleyway the longer they continued conversing. All they were doing now was losing daylight. “Vash. We need to keep moving.” 

“And where are you two heading this time that has you in such a rush?”

“None of your business, girlie.”

Meryl huffed and pushed past Vash to jab a finger into his chest. “We finally catch up to you two and you think you can just ride off without us again? Not a chance. It is our job to keep an eye on Vash the Stampede and report any damages he has caused to local infrastructure back to the Bernardalli Office.”

“Meryl-”

She whipped around to do the same to Vash, who tried to shrink away from her dagger-like stare. “I don’t want to hear it from you, either, Vash! I don’t care what kind of trouble you are running head first into or what kind of danger is chasing after you this time, you’re not going to leave us behind again!”

Wolfwood rolled his eyes, taking on a snarky tone just to fuck with her. “If you’re just going to stalk us anyway, then why do you need to know where we are headin’?” 

Milly hummed in agreement and pulled her superior away so that Vash could finally get away from the wall and situate himself in the sidecar once more. “You know, he’s right, Ms. Meryl. We are just going to be following them anyway, aren’t we? So let’s mount up and join them!” Her and Vash are similar in some ways, aren’t they? Always smiling… always seeing the bright side in things. He found himself watching as they walked out of the alley, Milly still doing everything she could to quell the fire of Meryl’s emotions. Just before they dipped out of sight, she looked back over her shoulder and waved with that pure, kind-hearted smile.

Without any further delay, they returned to the road with their eyes set on December. Right as they left town, two thoma were on their trail in pursuit, maintaining a small distance between them.

Outposts and towns came and went. Whenever they stopped, the thoma disappeared, nowhere to be seen until they took off again. At one point, there was a sandsteamer that could be seen traversing the endless desert in the distance, following its course as it always would. Nothing else changed as the day came to a close, the midday heat slowly slipping away to an evening chill. Evening turned to twilight, twilight faded to night.

December was fully in view before them. Only an hour out at most. They had made even better time than Vash had first predicted. This is happening. We are really here. We made it home. I’m… Wolfwood looked to the sidecar. Vash had his arms folded, legs propped up in front of him with one knee bent. His eyes were closed and his chest swelled with even breaths. Home.

Wolfwood pulled in slowly, shutting off the engine before they fully entered town. There was no reason to announce their arrival. Vash stirred slightly, but didn’t show any sign of rising from his slumber just yet. He left him be, despite how much harder it made it to push the bike to the nearest motel. The thoma finally came up beside him. Meryl’s reins were tied to the horn on the back of Milly’s saddle. The small girl was fast asleep, cuddling the thomas’ neck like it was a plush and not a live animal.

Milly spoke to him with a stage whisper. He couldn’t help but wonder if she even realised that was what she was doing. “Hi again, Mr. Priest! It’s me, Milly. Is this where you were heading?” 

I think… she misunderstood earlier. Oh well, the sentiment is appreciated. She is really sweet. “I remember who you are, Milly.”

She clapped her hands together in excitement and let out an excited “Oh, good!” Meryl groaned beside her and Vash mumbled something, causing her to flinch as she covered her mouth and took to her stage whisper once more. “Oops. Sorry. So, is this where we are staying or are we only stopping for the night?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out in the morning.”

“Aww! Please, Mr. Wolfwood! I promise I won’t tell Meryl! I won’t tell a soul! I’m really good at keeping secrets! Cross my gut and hope to cry, spill some pudding on my thigh!”

Wolfwood snickered at that. Honestly, that variation on the turn of phrase would be perfect for Vash with how much he can pack down. “Alright. But remember that you promised, okay?” Remember this moment. If no one here remembers me, then I want you to. I want you and Vash and Meryl to remember me. Someone has to. If I can’t, then someone else has to.  

Milly nodded enthusiastically, fists gripped tight around the reins in her hands.

Wolfwood put up the kickstand and moved to stand beside her thomas. He motioned for her to lean close and whispered in her ear, “This is our stop. We should be staying here for at least a day or two before we figure out where to go next.”

He watched her open her mouth to cheer only to quickly slap her hands over her mouth and look at the sleeping form on the other thomas. Wolfwood turned to Vash, still sound asleep, and gently shook his shoulder. “Vash. We’re here. Let’s get a room so you can stretch out and sleep in a bed.” 

Vash’s eyes squeezed tightly shut as he stretched his arms over his head with a high pitched grumble originating from his throat to accompany the movement. They slowly fluttered open to reveal those crystalline blues, a warm smile slowly unfurling as the two of them stared into each other. Vash’s words came out woven into a yawn. “Yeah. A bed sounds nice.” He hopped out onto his feet as if he had never been asleep.

Milly waved to Vash before shooing them. “You two head inside. I’ll wake Meryl once the thoma are situated in their stalls.” She mimicked her lips being zipped shut and locked before throwing away the key. Wolfwood couldn’t help but smile as he gave her a small wave goodbye before wrapping his arm around Vash’s shoulders to lead him away. 

Vash’s brows knit together in confusion as he looked over his shoulder at Milly and back at Wolfwood a few times. “Did something happen between you two while I was asleep?”

“Just a little agreement between friends. Nothing for you to worry your spikey little head over.” 

“Well, now I’m definitely going to worry about it!” 

The last of their available funds were used to get their room, the only one they could afford having just one double-wide bed. When they stepped inside, Vash immediately threw himself down onto the mattress, bouncing a few times. Vash let out a content sigh and looked around. They had two nightstands, walls decorated with the bare minimum so that it didn’t feel barren, a window with curtains that were currently drawn apart, a table and chair to drink morning coffee at, and something that wanted to be called a couch but was really just an over glorified upholstered chair. The bathroom door was in the entryway on their right, with a small closet just next to that before it opened up into the main room. “Hey, Nico. Does this remind you of anything?”

Wolfwood continued to look over all the details. It was giving him a weird sense of deja vu, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. He shucked off his shoes and hung his coat in the closet before joining Vash on the bed. “I guess… but isn’t this just like any other motel room? They’re all supposed to look the same.” 

“I guess you’re right… But it reminds me of something. It reminds me of the first day we met.” You mean to tell me that we shared a room when we first met? That makes it sound like I was a prostitute or I hired you for that purpose. Please don’t tell me either of those things could be true. 

Vash launched into recounting that fateful day: it started with the bus ride to Mei. How he had spotted Wolfwood in the distance and made the driver stop to pick him up. How they saved a child together by fighting off lost tech that had come back to life to protect an abandoned ship that had been buried beneath the sand. How Mei had been waiting for Vash to arrive so they could claim the bounty. How Wolfwood got shot several times and fainted, leading to them sharing a room just like this one for several days.

Then Vash had to go and say something embarrassing about that night, “You know… you took a really long time in the shower that night, and I actually got a little worried that you had fainted.” 

Wolfwood did remember the shower. Almost as if it were a sick joke, he could also recall the fantasies that he had had involving Vash. He could feel his face heating up already. “Y-yeah... I guess I did.”

Vash was almost excited, his eyes blown wide as he noticed the blush growing across the priest’s face. “Nico. Do- Do you remember why you took so long in the shower? You do, don’t you!” Kill me. Please. For once, I think I would rather be dead. Wolfwood buried his face in his hands and groaned while Vash laughed. 

Vash got that devious little grin and pulled Wolfwood’s hands away from his face. He kept a hold on one while his other hand fell to the priest’s knee. Vash’s fingers slowly walked up his thigh. “Would… you like to relive that night the way you had imagined it, Nico? Would you like to sleep with me?” 

Who in their right mind would turn down an offer like that?

As always, morning comes. Vash rests beside him, beautiful as a painting in the early light, his skin marked with testaments and prayers devoted to his guardian angel. Wolfwood carefully leaves the bed, tucking the sheet beneath Vash’s lithe body so that he wouldn’t wake from the escape of his body heat. He placed a soft kiss on the angel’s forehead and stroked the hair away from his face.   

You deserve to sleep in once in a while. I’m sure you’re plenty tired. “I love you, Vash.” He could never say it to Vash’s face while he was awake. Not while sober. Those three words carry a world’s worth of weight in promises that he could never keep. But he meant them. With every fiber of his being, he loved Vash and would always love him no matter how many times he forgot how they met. No matter how many memories they made together that he lost. No matter what may happen, he loved Vash. 

Wolfwood gathered his clothes and slowly dressed himself before moving to the window. Just as he was about to open it for his morning smoke, he felt something. A connection of some kind. An energy that pulsed through his core and made his heart start racing as his fight-or-flight response kicked in. A looming figure stood in between the two buildings just across from their room in attire that mirrored Wolfwood’s own, down to the cross that he held at his back. And he was looking at the window. At Wolfwood.

It’s time, Punisher. This will be your ultimate test of devotion. To both myself and our dear Vash. You have to protect him. Don’t let us down. Go. Confront Chapel. It had been so long since he last heard that voice in his head. Wolfwood almost forgot that He could speak to him.

Wolfwood cast one last glance at Vash’s sleeping form before slipping out of the room, shutting the door with the softest click so that he would remain undisturbed. I’ll be back. I’ll even be sure that I am right there before you wake up. Just wait for me.

When has he ever truly had a choice? When has his life ever been his own? Maybe… somewhere, sometime, someplace else, he could make that choice. The right one. The one that would make it so that he didn’t have to leave Vash to fight this battle. The one that would allow them to live every day like the one they had in Solstice. Live every day like the ones that he lost in Mei. Together.

Wolfwood stood before the imposing man. God had called him Chapel. It seemed fitting enough. Standing behind him was a silver haired man with marks surrounding his left eye that could have been about the same age as Wolfwood. He had on more revealing attire. His top covered his arms, sides, and abdomen, yet left his chest and back bare. There was no way the leather pants he wore could be comfortable in the desert heat, but it definitely completed the look. There was something about him that bothered Wolfwood. It was the look in his eyes when he stared at Wolfwood’s face. Wolfwood had expected to be greeted with the same spine chilling confidence that Chapel exuded, but instead there was fear.                              

Are you scared? Even if you are, can’t you at least pretend that you aren’t? 

Chapel’s voice was booming, demanding respect. He spoke down to Wolfwood as if he were reprimanding a child. “Well, Nicholas. You have been dragging this mission out for a while now, haven’t you? Why?”

Wolfwood squared his shoulders and dug his heels into the ground. He matched Chapel’s energy with his response as a testament to his will. “I’m not sure what ‘mission’ you are referring to. I have been following my orders exactly as they have been issued to me.”  

“Ah, right. The mission that The Eye gave you. Yes, you have been executing that perfectly, but I’m growing tired of that. I have been trying to bring the Gung-Ho-Gun’s together for our true objective, and that includes you.” He stretched his arms out, gaze cast to the endless expanse of the sky above as he began spouting nonsense like a man driven to madness. “We must kill Vash the Stampede so that The Rapture may occur unopposed! That thing is the only one that stands in the way of the prophecy being completed.”

Wolfwood could hear God hum with interest. Trying to turn my own against my wishes? A novel idea, that. No, no. Vash must be kept alive. He must be a witness to the fall of humanity. 

“Cut the bullshit. Doesn’t matter what reason you give me, don’t give a shit who you are, I’m not going to stand by and let you kill Vash. And there is no way in hell I am going to help you do it, either!” Wolfwood released the clasp that held all the others in place, freeing The Punisher from her binds and drew her to be aimed between Chapel’s eyes.

Chapel frowned, yet remained where he was standing as he slowly folded his hands behind his back. “Really, Nicholas? Aiming the precious gift you received at the one who granted it to you? I see. Your answer is crystal clear.” Chapel snapped his fingers, the man standing behind him slowly stepping forward to stand between them. “But would it change for him?” Wolfwood felt sick as that fearful expression was still written all over the man’s face. Were you brainwashed into obedience? Or is it something else? 

“It really is you…” It was a whisper, maybe not even audible to anyone but them, but clearly they knew each other. This was someone that knew him. This was someone that Wolfwood should remember. But he couldn’t. He had never seen this man before. The two of them stood stock still in silence. 

Chapel grew impatient and sighed. “You never were able to handle the drug that well, were you, Nicholas? It’s a miracle that you even know who you are.” Chapel snapped again and the scared hound aimed two guns of his own at Wolfwood. His face may have fallen expressionless, but the fear still shined through in his golden eyes.  

Ah, Chapel’s pitting his two favorite dogs against each other. This ought to be interesting. Show them what you've got, Punisher.

Rapid gunfire echoes through the desolate town. The two fire at each other without hesitation. Just as they had been taught. Just as they had been ordered to do all their lives. They fought. They fought tooth and claw for their right to live for what they wanted to protect. They fired… and purposefully kept missing each other as Wolfwood ran in an effort to put distance between them and Chapel. I need to get you away from him. I need to know why you keep looking at me like that. Why you refuse to land a shot! He didn’t want to make it too obvious that he was missing on purpose, so he aimed for Silver’s legs and arms. Anything that could debilitate without being deadly. Only a handful ever hit their mark and didn’t seem to affect the enemy at all.

When Silver came close again, Wolfwood watched the bullets fall out of his limbs, the holes slowly stitching shut. He… He can heal! He couldn’t tell if he should be relieved or nervous about this fight with that information. It made it so that he could try to get answers, but that also meant that should things go south he was going to be in for a hell of a time. 

Stranger still, Silver was the one to speak first, his gun still trained on Wolfwood. “Do you remember the orphanage?”

Why? Why is it always about the orphanage? Wolfwood lowered his gun slightly, hoping to signal that they should talk while Chapel was out of earshot. “I don’t. Are you from there? Do you know me?” 

Something was changing. Silver looked like he was fighting himself. His arms were shaking. “You abandoned me, Nico…”

Wolfwood’s eyes went wide, his throat dried as he stood with mouth agape in shock. Nico? Wait, you’re the one that gave me the nickname ‘Nico’!?  

“You left me alone! You left us alone ! JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE, YOU LEFT US!” When Silver lifted his head again, his face had completely changed. Not in the sense that his features were any different, but they were held in such a way that it was unrecognizable as being the same person as before. His eyes were narrowed and the only thing that remained within them was pure hatred. That hatred was directed at no one else but Wolfwood. The shots turned lethal as they hammered into the priest's torso without any further warning.

Wolfwood was still reeling, his thoughts seeming to have been scattered by the peppering of bullets. His chest burned as coughs wet with blood forced their way out. Move. I have to move. Dammit, I need to run!

He got his ass in gear and ducked down an alley. Whatever was going on with Silver had thrown him into a daze. He tried to stagger forward, his pursuit slowed for the time being. Wolfwood took the opportunity that he was granted and dove through an already shattered window. Hopefully Silver hadn’t had the chance to look down the way yet and hadn’t seen where he went. Wolfwood just needed a little time. Any time he could get.  

Wolfwood’s hands scrambled for the leather pouch that contained those little blue vials. He snapped the top off one and downed it in desperation for relief from the pain, not even bothering to pull it free from its position and holding the pouch as if he was drinking water from a canteen. 

Put that away now, Punisher! He’s coming for you. You can’t lose those if you wish to survive! Crush them! Crush this foolish rebellion against me! Was God… worried? No. No, He was just issuing His commands. That’s right. Wolfwood had to end this once and for all before his time ran out.

There was laughter from outside. It didn’t sound like it could be Silver. It sounded like… “You really should choose your hiding spots more carefully, Nicholas.” He didn’t have a chance to see Chapel before the room went up in flames. He was burning. His skin boiled. It felt like never ending agony as the wounds tried desperately to repair faster than the inferno was able to eat away at his flesh. The regeneration couldn’t keep up. The window had disappeared. Everything looked the same amidst the flames. Out. Fuck, I need to get out! 

The beast changed his grip on the cross in his hands and pulled the third trigger with his ring finger. A single rocket came out, the force of it blasting him back into the wall. The structure was weak enough that he burst through it into the open street that he had started in. His skin fell off in chunks and sand stuck to his limbs as they oozed blood and puss.  

Silver was still standing there taking heaving breaths. He retrained his aim on the still recovering pile of flesh that had rolled back into his sights. Wolfwood was barely able to get his cross positioned in front of him as a barricade in time to block the next onslaught. There is no way I can get a shot in. There’s no openings. 

Make an opening. Get in there and make it so that he can’t pull the triggers.

So Wolfwood waited. Waited for the guns to pause. They would have to stop eventually to either cool off or get reloaded. Once that moment came… 

Wolfwood scrambled forward, Punisher pressed to the ground and slid across the sand as he rushed in on Silver. He pivoted to slam the cross into his ankles before rising back up. Silver tried to clap the guns together around the wolf’s head, but he pulled his Punisher up just in time for Silver’s hands to slam against the ends of the cross. 

Wolfwood growled with a smirk. “Checkmate.” He pulled the trigger, blasting one of Silver’s hands. He pulled the cross free and tried to swing it down, only for it to be caught by a third arm. It was composed of lost tech, connected to the center of Silver’s back by some sort of port. Silver held The Punisher steady.

The gunshot echoed. Everything fell still.

Chapel fell to the ground with a hole in the center of his forehead.

Both of them looked back at the body that had fallen to the ground. It was surreal. Chapel, the man so confident of his own victory, had been removed from the picture with a single bullet. 

Silver was practically in hysterics, swinging his guns wildly. Slamming them into Wolfwood’s body. And Wolfwood took it. For some reason, all he could do was laugh as he was bludgeoned by the twin guns over. And over. And over. Silver screaming all the while. “Master! You killed him! You killed our Master! Do you realize what you have done? You don’t, do you? You don’t even remember. You are so weak, so talentless that you CAN’T even remember!”

The last hit connected with Wolfwood’s jaw and sent him tumbling across the ground again. The pouch of vials flew free, landing on the ground beside him. He spat blood into the sand and continued to laugh. “That’s right. I can’t remember! I don’t need to remember shit! That bastard looked down on me. He looked down on you, too! We are nothing more than animals to them! To everyone! To this God forsaken planet! Accept it!”

Watch your tongue, Punisher.

Wolfwood looked to the sky and screamed. “FUCK YOU!” 

Silver loomed over him and placed the barrel of his gun against Wolfwood’s sternum. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Single shots. All piercing through his core. He punched the gun away and crawled toward the pouch. Bang. His spine. Bang. Bang. To each of his arms. Bang. The back of his left thigh. Bang. To the back of his right knee. He took the pouch into his mouth and bit down, splintering the glass of all three vials. The fluid slowly trickled into his mouth through the leather. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t tell if any of his injuries were closing. Nothing felt real anymore.

God said nothing. Silver stopped firing and said nothing as he stared down at the rabid dog that was clinging to life at his feet. Everything was silent save for Wolfwood’s laboured breathing.

“What… have you done?” 

Wolfwood suckled on the leather in his mouth. Despite the fire in his veins, his eyes felt heavy. His head was coated in fog.

The priest blinked. It felt like it took an eternity to do, and when his eyes opened again, Silver had changed. He was crying. The leather was no longer in his mouth and his head was resting on the man’s lap. Nick was able to pull one thing free from the fog. When he was little… When he was little, a boy with silver hair had made him rest his head on his lap when he collapsed from heat exhaustion and cried for hours. He laughed as he tried desperately to get the words he wanted to say out. They came out in a raspy breath. “Hey… Cry-baby Livio is back.”

His sobs only grew louder. “Why do you have to remember that now?” 

“Sorry… That’s the only thing I could think of. Sorry that it took so long… for me to remember. But thank you. Thank you for remembering me, Livio.”

Vash spots a trail of blood as he runs through the town of December, searching desperately for the man clad in black that was missing when he woke late in the afternoon. His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach when Nico is nowhere to be seen. Someone he doesn’t recognize stands near the splatters of crimson. When their eyes meet, he casts his face down with a pained expression. Long platinum strands can do nothing to hide the tears that fall to the sand. Vash’s heart tightens painfully in his chest, his throat feeling drier than the planet itself. He follows the red string in the sand, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in that his fears aren’t coming to fruition. 

"NICHOLAS!"

There, amongst the church pews Vash scrambled on hands and knees to cradle the priest in his arms. Blood slowly seeped its way into his leather gloves and the front of his coat. His vocal chords were taught with anguish as he struggled to choke back his tears.

"Ah, I'm sorry you had to come into the church to see such a sorry state…" Nick's voice was barely a whisper, his breathing labored. "Please, forgive me. The way you called out just now… made me really happy…" His eyes were beginning to lose their light, glazed over with death. He didn't have much longer. Vash knew that, but he couldn't accept it.

“Nico, you’re going to be okay. We’ll get you all patched up.” Hands began to pat him down, searching his suit for something. “When you are better… When you are better I will have so much to tell you.” What he could be looking for so desperately, Nicholas didn’t know. When he had finished prodding at every pocket and pouch Nick had, he screwed his eyes shut and hissed through his teeth. Tears began to fall from his eyes onto the priest's cheeks. He started to sing. It wasn’t a hymn, but still sounded like heaven’s angels were smiling down to offer their comfort to the one now homeward bound. He felt so tired. What a nice lullaby. I wish I could listen to this forever.

But there was no forever, and his time was running out. There were so many things that he wanted to know. So many questions he wanted to ask. But there was only one question that was important now as he lay bleeding out with the cross looking down upon him.

Their tears were mixing together in little trails, falling to the floor as one. With a shaky breath, Nick forced his vocal chords to cooperate with him to cut off Vash’s singing and make his final request, "Tell me just one thing…"

Silence filled the cathedral. Only the sobs of a completely broken man filled the space as the love of his life lay motionless in his arms. Nick’s final words echoing endlessly in his head. Weak, heartbreaking words.

"Who are you?"