Of butterflies and spiders

By Timberwolf220

Summary: Vash tries to explain to Wolfwood what butterflies and spiders are

-XX-

No one has the right to take the life of another

Rem Saverem

-XX-

"Let me get this straight," Wolfwood said, enunciating each syllable, "A butterfly is like a bird with tiny wings right?"

I sighed and sat down. We've been over this for hours now and I was getting hungry! Meryl left some donuts, but they got over so quickly. And to think this whole thing happened because I muttered under my breath, "Knives, spiders can bite."

Wolfwood, being the characteristically sharp priest he was, caught the sentence and asked me what the hell spiders were. And then I began to explain the basics of each creature, but Wolfwood, who lived all his life on a barren desert planet, couldn't grasp it. Plus, you needed a lively imagination and Wolfwood was a realistic man.

But this was a lot harder than I expected to be.

"Something like that," I keep forgetting that in this environment, there were no insects. They would survive an instant in this heat. It made me sad sometimes. There were no butterflies here and I had liked butterflies, though Knives was the most fond of them, There were perfect creatures, ones that lived for spreading beauty, he told me once, that's why they were so beautiful. I liked that analogy, except I didn't realize how far it would drive him away from me.

I wish he was still here, like he was before. Holding me close before going to sleep, whispering comforts in my ear, "We'll get through this," everytime Steve got particularly violent. There was no one on this planet that I was ever that close to. Except for Wolfwood.

The gunman priest at this moment was staring at me. I smiled and motioned him to sit down. Taking a long metal rod, I silently drew a picture of a butterfly onto the sandy ground. In the back of my head, I remember my hands fumbling with a rare pencil Rem had gotten with her from Earth on the blank white paper (even rarer than the pencil itself!) and Knives peering at the picture with liquid eyes.

"Rem! Rem! Look, it's a flower! A flower!"

There was bright laughter, "Very well done Vash!"

"It is, isn't it? Knives! It's a flower!"

Deep mirth, the kind that bubbles slowly, but still as beautiful as the previous one, "And I've never seen a flower so beautiful before Vashu…"

Vashu…

I blinked from my thoughts when I felt a weight on my back. Wolfwood was leaning over me; his blue smoky eyes open with awe.

"Wow…" He breathed, "Is that what they look like?"

I looked down on my drawing. I was out of touch obviously because the lines were vague and weren't straight. But it served as a reasonable drawing and Wolfwood was taking it in. I smiled at his expression of wonderment. It was a feeling that didn't decorate Wolfwood's face often. I wish it did.

"So that's a butterfly," Wolfwood said, turning to me, "But what's a spider?"

The spider had to die to save the butterfly, an eerie whisper drifted through my head. I winced and looked away and replied softly, "They're creatures that eat the butterflies."

"Eat the butterflies, huh?" Wolfwood murmured softly, "Is that why you don't like spiders?"

I hesitated, "It's not that I don't like spiders," I said calmly.

I just don't like what they symbolize to Knives…

He nodded, even though I haven't spoken to him. Wolfwood has an uncanny ability of picking up unseen messages. I suppose that's why he never asks, never needs to know what I am and who hunts me. Because he already knows.

"Spiders hunt the butterflies, right?" Wolfwood said suddenly, "But then…what do butterflies hunt?"

I gaped at him, "What?"

"Well, they have to survive somehow," Wolfwood pointed out, "So what do they hunt?"

I ran my mind over whatever Rem ever told me about butterflies, "Umm…flowers?" From what Rem told me, the butterflies spread the flowers and then they die. She always thought it was the most admirable thing to do.

Wolfwood blinked, "Flowers?"

I groaned. I keep forgetting that there so much I knew that the people here will never experience. Wolfwood would never see flowers or spiders or butterflies. It was a depressing thought. I'm sure Rem must be crying in Heaven for their loss.

"They're plants, like trees except smaller and prettier," Yes, that seemed to be the best way to phrase it.

"Oh…" Wolfwood said, running his hands down his cross. His love for that weapon disturbs me sometimes, but then I am constantly reminded that my own weapon was given by my brother who wants to destroy all mankind. Who am I to criticize?

"Things all die eventually die in the end anyway," Wolfwood said, "We only pretend that we're stalling the inevitable. It's a fool's thought."

"Wolfwood…"

"It's true and don't you dare say otherwise," Wolfwood cut me off with a wave of his hand, "Understood?"

I nodded slightly, feeling queasy.

"By the way Vash…"

I looked up. His eyes were filled with an indescribable feeling. It made me less queasy, but still apprehensive. Wolfwood was behaving oddly…as if he understood the situation of the spiders and butterflies.

"I think spiders can be beautiful too," Wolfwood murmured.

I smiled, my heart filled with a strange sense of gladness. Wolfwood always had a way of putting my fears to rest. In a way, I believe Wolfwood is making me stronger.

"Yeah," I said, laying a hand on Wolfwood's shoulder and leaning my head on it, "I think they are too."

The sand blew across my drawing of the butterfly, leaving nothing but the dust at our feet.

-XX-