Title: Brutal Love
Rating: R/NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Vash/Wolfwood, Vash/Knives, Meryl, Millie, Legato, etc.
Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, its characters, etc. All belong to its respective owners - Nightow, etc.
Warnings: m/m, rape, language, violence, incest
Summary: The showdown with Knives is inevitable. When it comes down to it, will Vash be able to take out one of the few people he ever trusted? And how did Wolfwood slip under his radar?

A/N: Not a great summary, I apologize :) Title comes from Green Day's "Brutal Love" off the album "Tre." I think the song fits this fic well. Feedback is awesome, but not necessary; I just hope you enjoy it as much as I love writing it. :D

Lightning lit up the room, prompting Vash to put his index fingers in his ears to dull the loud boom of thunder that was sure to follow shortly. It did, and he sighed tiredly. By his count, he'd been lying in bed for a good two hours with no luck of sleep.

Maybe Wolfwood is awake too.

His bare feet silently walked him to the next room over from his at the April City Inn. He knocked quietly, not really expecting a response, but was happy when one came.

"Who is it?" he heard through the sound of the muffled pouring rain outside.

"It's me."

A brief moment passed before his comrade opened the door. He gestured for Vash to come in, and the Humanoid Typhoon took the invite graciously.

"Can't sleep either?" Wolfwood asked as they went to sit down at the table. A bottle of Wild Turkey and two glasses were already there as if the priest had expected company.

Vash let out a small laugh, nervously rubbed the back of his head, and took a seat across from the other man. "Yeah, I guess so. I wasn't sure if you'd be awake or not. Sorry to bother you."

Wolfwood poured them both shots and handed one to Vash, who took it absentmindedly. "It's no bother. Better than being alone on a night like this, if you ask me."

"Yeah, it's really storming out there. Haven't seen something like it for awhile."

They each downed two shots before setting the glasses aside. For some reason, Vash could not seem to meet Nicholas' intense gaze. He stared at the floor, and although his outward composure was calm albeit a bit uneasy, he inwardly wondered what the hell he was feeling – why was his heart racing? It wasn't surprising that he had grown to consider Wolfwood a close friend and ally. In numerous circumstances, his life was preserved because of the priest fighting alongside him. It seemed a ridiculous notion to consider those feelings of immense camaraderie as anything but that. Yet for some time now, his heart had been attempting to sway him otherwise. There was something else there, some emotion he had buried a long time ago that was being drudged up to the surface, with Nicholas D. Wolfwood being the cause. Whatever it was, he'd never tell the other man; he didn't much care for feeling embarrassed and ashamed. He himself didn't even know for sure what it was to put a label on it.

So why did this feel different from any other time he had been alone with the preacher? Something was off, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. Danger? No. He trusted this man even though he hardly knew a thing about him. A trap? Not a chance. The tolling weight of loneliness? Maybe. The desire to be in the comfort of someone else's arms during a raging storm? Very possible. A want to deepen and strengthen his friendship with this man? Definitely.

Sighing heavily, he put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand.

"What's on your mind, Mr. Vash the Stampede? Do you need a portable confessional?"

Vash smirked and at last locked his gaze with Wolfwood's. "Nah, I'm not one for telling secrets."

"You sure have a lot of them."

"I could say the same for you, Mr. Priest." He spoke the last two words with sarcasm.

Wolfwood chuckled. "What can I say? I had a previous life before becoming a man of the cloth."

"Care to share it with me?"

"I like to keep my secrets too." He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket hanging from the back of his chair for a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag. "Yours seem to run deep," he said while exhaling upward.

"How could you tell?" Vash asked dully.

"Like I said before: your smile doesn't reach your eyes."

"You just don't know what to do to get me to really smile," he replied with a sheepish grin.

"Enlighten me."

"Maybe another time."

A clap of thunder rattled the window pane as the storm continued to rage outside. Nicholas noticed the other man shiver almost imperceptibly and wrap his arms around himself as if in a protective embrace. The shot glasses were filled once again, though Vash didn't drink his right away.

"I'll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours."

Vash looked at him, searching Wolfwood's expression to see if he was joking or serious. The latter seemed to be the case. "Alright." He let out a deep breath as he tried to think of something to share with this man that he had yet to share with anyone else. "I'm….I'm looking for my brother," he finally stated quietly. "He's my twin, actually. We were separated many years ago."

Images of him and Knives flashed in his head. Playing in the green grass without a care in the world. Flames and red shooting stars. Cold, heartless blue eyes staring at him before a clenched fist slammed in to the side of his face. A possessive embrace, fingers trailing down his back. Hands roaming over his bare torso before gripping his hips. Moans, whimpers, whispered words. Tears filling his eyes as he was forced face-down in the sand, crying out as his body was intruded upon by his brother.

Vash jumped and gasped at the feeling of something on his cheek. It was Nicholas' thumb, wiping away the wet tracks left in the wake of a few tears.

"Must be pretty painful to be without him," Nicholas spoke gently. The hurt in his comrade's green eyes contradicted everything he had known. What he'd really wanted to ask was what the hell was wrong with him and how could he seem to still have feelings for a brother as destructive and callous as Knives?

"Sorry," Vash apologized, embarrassed. "Didn't mean to drift off like that."

"It's fine. You two must've been close."

"We were….for a time…." There was a brief moment of silence, during which Vash threw back his shot. Finally, he prompted, "And you?"

"I was trained at an early age to be an assassin. It was the only life I knew until I decided no more. I made it my duty to help kids in need. It's why I started the orphanage and took on the duties of the cross. It's also why I see things quite differently from you." The quizzical look on Vash's face made him continue. "You believe in never killing. You strive to never take another life. Maybe you were taught that way. For me, I was taught to kill at any cost. Now, I just do it if a situation calls for it."

"Maybe someday that'll change."

Wolfwood laughed. "Well, if it does, I'll let you know."

Lightning flickered, thunder following several seconds after.

"Guess I should go back to my room, try and get some sleep," Vash mumbled.

"Up to you. You can stay the night if you want."

Wolfwood's eyes conveyed complete sincerity and even what appeared to Vash to be an invitation. Not since his brother had been by his side had he slept quite so near another person. Or with another person.

"Come on, Vash. You know as well as I do how lonely a life like this can be. And for all the womanizing you do, I doubt you've ever taken a lady up on an offer."

"Don't be so sure," Vash retorted, annoyed at how smug the priest was. It surprised him, though, how easily this man always seemed to be able to read him.

Before he knew what was happening, he was being hoisted to his feet and backed up against the nearest wall. There was fear, excitement, and pleading all wrapped together showing in his bright eyes. Wolfwood's gray-blue ones were clouded with lust and a saddening sense of aloneness. When a hand went beneath his shirt, Vash half-heartedly pushed it away.

"Don't," he whispered.

"Vash-"

"You won't want to see."

"See what?"

"Just….stop."

Accepting that the man's skin was off limits – for now – Nicholas moved his hand down and grinned wickedly at feeling what he had hoped for. A low groan escaped Vash's parted mouth as the priest rubbed against his hard member.

"Nicholas….stop," Vash weakly protested.

"How long's it been?"

"That's none of your business."

"That's what I thought. Just give in. Quit denying what's only natural."

"You're drunk."

"Nowhere close."

Vash closed his eyes and tilted his head back. He inhaled sharply from the pleasurable tingles shooting throughout his anatomy, at the sensation of hungry lips kissing his neck.

"Please….stop…."

Again, Wolfwood tried to touch Vash's bare flesh. This time, the Humanoid Typhoon pushed him away and headed for the door.

"We both need some sleep," the blonde offered lamely.

He didn't make it far before he was being spun around and warm lips were pressed against his. For several seconds, he was frozen, stiff against the preacher's close body and eyes wide as he was kissed. He hadn't had contact like this since Knives. Hadn't felt one hand on his back, bringing him as near as possible to another person, and the other on his round backside since Knives.

Vash snapped out of his memories, shut his eyes, and surrendered. Their mouths worked feverishly with one another's as they lost themselves to kissing each other. He had underestimated just how much he longed to be touched again. And Wolfwood's touch was exhilarating.

The top button of his shirt was undone, and he pulled away to keep Nicholas from doing any more. The priest gazed at him impatiently, but there was real confusion and concern as well.

"How bad could it be?" he asked.

"Bad. It's….not something I like other people to see."

"That why you don't take women home?"

Vash's green eyes flickered with hurt, making Nicholas regret the jab at the other male's pride. With great hesitation, the blonde began to unbutton his shirt. He slipped it off, letting it fall to the floor, and swallowed the nervous knot in his throat. He observed Nicholas' reaction, watched the priest survey his tremendously marred flesh. It was difficult to judge just how the other man was taking the sight; for the most part, he seemed rather unphased, more surprised than anything.

At last, Wolfwood purred, "I don't mind," and guided the outlaw to lie down on the bed. Everything was happening so fast, yet it felt as if time had slowed whenever they touched. While their lips ravished one another's, Vash shakily undid the buttons on Nicholas' shirt and removed it. He let out a whimper as the preacher moved to suck on his neck and felt the tie being undone on his pants. Was this really happening? Was he really going to let it happen? Surely if Knives were here, he'd be appalled. He'd snarl in disgust at his brother fornicating with a human. To him, humans didn't even deserve to touch them.

In this moment, Vash had never known such ecstasy.

He raised his hips for Wolfwood to remove his last article of clothing. Slight worry overtook him as the dark-haired man ceased all of his actions and merely devoured the naked sight below him with his eyes. It would've been a lie to say Wolfwood was not completely attracted to Vash the Stampede. Even though scars adorned the gunman's legs as well – and he would later discover the man's back too, making his skin almost like a patch-work quilt – Wolfwood found him unbelievably appetizing. He wanted to know every inch. He had a fierce urge to claim this man tonight.

"Stay here," he said, getting up to go rummage around in his dufflebag.

"Everything okay? Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. Just need something….ah! Here it is." He returned to the bed, setting a little bottle of lubricant on the nightstand nearby. "Never know when I'll need it for a beautiful lady, or in tonight's case, a beautiful man." He grinned at seeing the Humanoid Typhoon blush and smile innocently.

"Hope I don't disappoint."

"You never do."

Wolfwood forged a trail of kisses from Vash's forehead down to his nipple. The blonde gasped and squirmed as Nicholas circled his tongue around it. He closed his eyes, reveling in the intense pleasure coursing through him. Teeth gently bit and lips sucked on it while a hand slid down his stomach to tease his erect cock.

"Nicholas," he breathed, "I-"

He was hushed by his comrade's mouth on his. Tentative arms wrapped themselves around the person above him. His heart was racing; he wondered if his friend could hear it, the way it thudded so violently in his chest. Was Wolfwood this nervous? It didn't seem to be the case. The preacher acted as if this was nothing new, and it was that notion that made Vash suddenly envy him. The only being he had shared such intimacy with was his own dominating brother; even then, the majority of the time it had been against his will.

After a number of minutes, Wolfwood pulled back. Vash watched through half-opened eyes as the other male stripped himself and wet his erection with the lube. The gunman was trembling, causing Wolfwood to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whisper, "Relax."

Vash nodded. "Right. Relax."

He parted his legs, allowing the priest to settle between them, and let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Have you done this before?" Nicholas asked.

"What? Me? Well…." He noticed the preacher's raised eyebrow and an expression that told him his friend read him like a book. "Yes. It's been awhile though."

"I'll try to take it slow."

Vash brought his knees as close to his chest as he could and never let his gaze stray from Woolfwood. The last time he had been in this position, silent tears had dripped from his bruised and swollen eyes while he tried to look at anything other than the possessive, pitiless expression on his brother's face.

"You make me do this," Knives spat as he roughly thrust in and out of his twin. Vash let out a feeble groan as he was forcefully struck by Knives' fist. "Look at me! It's your fault!"

Once the assault was over, Vash laid where he was, staring emptily at the blue sky above him. He didn't bother putting on his clothes; the wind felt good against his sweat-sheen skin. Knives stood nearby with his back to him.

"When will you learn? It's not like I enjoy hurting you, brother. I'd say you're no better than them, but you are," Knives stated coldly. "Why don't you see it? We can wipe them out, rule this planet."

He turned around to find Vash had not moved. He sighed, went to kneel beside the prone form, and brushed his fingers through his twin's spiked hair before trailing them down to caress Vash's cheek.

"I'm sorry," Knives said with great affection. "Forgive me. I love you. You know that."

Vash sat up and took the offered embrace. They held each other securely.

"We're all we need," Knives whispered in his ear. "You and me. Forever."

Vash shut his eyes tightly, tensed, and emitted a noise of pain as he felt Wolfwood enter his body. The priest only went until the head of his cock was inside the other man. He'd wait as long as it took for Vash to loosen up before going any farther and would take it as slow as need be.

It was a few minutes when the outlaw finally breathed, "Okay."

What seemed like an hour to Wolfwood went by before he was completely inside Vash the Stampede. He rocked forward slightly, eliciting a tremulous moan from the blonde. With vocals like that, Nicholas knew it wouldn't take long for him to orgasm. The sound of Vash's whimpers and murmurs of pleasure drove him wild with lust.

Vash wrapped his arms around Nicholas' neck, grabbing a handful of the preacher's hair as his body moved with every thrust the preacher made. It was nothing like he had ever experienced. Even the most tenderest of moments with Knives didn't seem to compare with what it felt like to be claimed by Nicholas. There was pain, but ecstasy made him quiver from the strokes the priest's fingers performed on his cock.

Lightning lit up the room and the two horizontal forms moving in unison on the bed. Their breathing became ragged and heavy, their skin hot against one another. Nicholas' propulsions grew more powerful as he neared his peak. He pounded in to Vash's body vigorously and began to moan with the gunman. He had expected it to be good; he hadn't prepared for it being incredible.

Warm fluid splashed on to Wolfwood's hand as Vash climaxed. He followed soon after, stopping abruptly and spilling himself deep inside the other man. Vash whimpered as he felt his comrade's member twitch within him, held on tightly to the priest, and wrapped his legs around him. For the first time in a long time, he felt safe; he didn't want to let go.

Thunder clapped outside, and the two men simply stared at one another for a small while. They were panting, bodies spent and tired, but utterly sated. Vash swallowed hard before he pulled Wolfwood's face down and kissed him tenderly. Caressing the outlaw's cheek, Wolfwood at last drew back, untangled himself from Vash's hold, and laid down beside him.

A lengthy moment passed as they rested in silence, listening to each other's breathing and the rain continuing to pour. Once their hearts had slowed, Wolfwood shifted to grab something from under the bed. Vash gazed at the ceiling, still recovering slightly from the exertion. His eyes widened slightly at the undeniable feel of a cold gun barrel against his temple.

"Don't move," Wolfwood ordered quietly.

"Wh-….What are you doing?"

"I've been hired to kill you….by your brother."

Vash let out an audible noise of surprise. "Knives….How….Why?" he asked with evident hurt present in his voice.

"His orders. He wants you terminated."

"I….I trusted you…."

Wolfwood closed his eyes briefly, hating how horrible he felt and how much pain he was obviously causing the man who he considered a friend.

Before he had time to react, Vash was sitting up and glaring at him angrily. His trembling voice gave away the betrayal and sadness hiding behind the intense green eyes.

"You planned this," he spoke softly. He didn't appear to care that Nicholas was up now too and had cocked the gun, still pointing at his head.

"It was a way I knew you wouldn't have your weapon anywhere near you, a way I'd know you'd be defenseless."

"So you go ahead and use me before you kill me?"

"I didn't plan for it to go as far as it did."

"Of course you didn't," Vash replied icily.

Not showing any concern to the possibility of Nicholas ending his life, Vash got up from the bed and put on his clothes.

"If you're going to do it, then do it," he said curtly, his back to Nicholas the whole time.

"Vash-"

"Just do it!"

Nicholas' aim followed the blonde as Vash hurried to the door. The entrance was slammed shut behind him, and with a heavy sigh, Nicholas lowered the gun.

"Damn it," he muttered.

Furious and heart-wrenching tears poured down Vash's flushed cheeks as he returned to his room. Through his blurred vision, he found and packed his belongings. He changed out of his clothes in to his regular gear and coat.

The night was cold, making his breath show whenever he exhaled. The rain fell from the sky with the intensity of a shower on full blast.

Like a ghost, he disappeared in to the pitch black, headed for the empty desert.

At the sight of the first sun's rays, Wolfwood dragged himself to the room next to his. He had been awake all night, regretting ever trying to do what he was contracted for. Whether he liked to admit it or not, he had grown to have some strong feelings for Vash the Stampede. They defended one another. Worked like a well-oiled machine when in combat, as if they had been doing it for years. The two of them had spent numerous days and nights with no one but themselves to keep the other company, to keep each other alive. They had their arguments, but many laughs as well, just like old friends.

When it came down to it, Vash was his only friend, the only person he trusted without question. And he broke whatever trust Vash had placed in him the moment he aimed the gun at him.

Wolfwood sighed, raised his hand to the door, and knocked lightly.

"Vash, it's me. We need to talk." He cringed inwardly at how cliché he sounded.

No reply.

"Come on, Spikey. Open up."

Silence.

He tried the doorknob to see if it was unlocked and was taken aback when he found it to be the case.

"I'm coming in," he announced before entering the room.

There was no one there. No duffle bag. No red coat hanging nearby. Nothing.

Don't tell me you left during that storm last night, he thought to himself. You have a death wish?

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

There were three towns near the one he was at now, but they were each at least seventy iles away. Not only did he not know which the Humanoid Typhoon picked to travel to, he had a sickening feeling at the image of the blonde lying in the sand having collapsed from exhaustion and dehydration while the buzzards encircled him, waiting for the rest of his life to drain out.

How was he supposed to find that idiot in the middle of the open desert?

"I'm sorry, Vash," he whispered remorsefully.

In the protective shade of a small cave, puffy green eyes stared vacantly out at the blowing sand. His body had ceased its violent shivering, and the pained tears that had flowed down his face were done too. The shelter wasn't very big; it allowed him to extend his bent legs only so far, though for the most part, he had been curled up in to a ball to keep warm. And to comfort himself.

By his estimate, he had traveled three iles during the night before his body didn't seem to want to move anymore. He was beyond tired, though sleep had refused to overtake him.

He was quite familiar with betrayal. And people pointed their weapons at him on a regular basis. But Wolfwood….That was the one person he didn't expect either of those to come from. Wolfwood was the only person he had let get so close to him since….

"We're all we need. You and me. Forever."

Vash closed his eyes tightly as he began to cry quietly. Knives had been the most important person in his life; in a way, he had felt Wolfwood had filled that position as of late. Now, both worked against him and wanted him dead.

He exhaled a shaky breath before he crawled out from the shelter. The suns were high and hot. Nothing but sand stretched in all directions around him.

Heaving his duffle bag on to his shoulder, he set off towards the west, not knowing how far until the next town; at the moment, he simply didn't care.

Despite it being a pointless endeavor in his mind, Wolfwood rode around in the open desert for several hours before calling it quits. If only he knew which direction Vash was headed, it'd be more possible for him to catch up to the Humanoid Typhoon. The next day he searched north for the most part, only venturing slightly to the west.

Something in my gut tells me Johnson City.

He downed the rest of his beer, settling on leaving in the morning.

A fire burned steadily, wood crackling and hissing, keeping the lone person almost comfortably warm in the middle of nowhere. Vash never understood how it could be so sweltering hot during the day and then so bone-chilling cold at night.

He sat with his legs held to his chest, the flames dancing in the frames of his yellow glasses.

"Don't move," Wolfwood ordered quietly.

"Wh-….What are you doing?"

"I've been hired to kill you….by your brother."

In that moment, everything he had known seemed to dissipate. He truly was wholly alone in this world. Perhaps he had become too trusting of people. Just another reason for Knives to scorn him and the human race itself. His brother had warned him. The idealism and optimism Knives had so despised remained, however, and now he wondered if maybe his twin had been right to distrust everyone but the two of them.

He trembled a little at remembering the feel of Nicholas' hands on him. The way the priest kissed him, moved inside of him. In that shared intimacy, he forgot everything: the inevitable war with Knives, the emotional burdens he carried, the memories and pain from which his scars had come from. Nothing had mattered the instant he stripped his clothes and gave himself up to the other man. He had always felt safe – well, as safe as one could feel with a merciless mass-murderer after him – when Nicholas was with him. Lying on his back, hugging his friend to his naked body, he had felt….free. Salvation. Love.

Dim embers flew as he tossed a short log on to the burning pile.

"Nicholas," he mumbled softly.

Five days had passed since Vash had departed without him. Nicholas scanned the area around him as he rode his bike through the barren wilderness towards Johnson City. He hoped to see any sign of the gunman, to see the man's long red coat fluttering in the wind.

Nothing.

It was late afternoon by his estimate. He leaned back against his motorcycle, having stopped for a break to stretch and to smoke.

"Idiot," he muttered, frustrated. He didn't like being worried over someone he really knew nothing about, though still cared so much for.

He stomped on what was left of his cigarette when he was finished and began to ride again. Was there a point in continuing to search? What were the odds he would even come across him?

Flying through the desert at fifty iles an hour, something suddenly caught his eye thirty iles from where he had just stopped. Off toward the left in the distance. Red flapped in the breeze. Vultures were circling in the sky.

"It can't be."

Hurriedly, he steered towards the flowing fabric. Sprawled out face-down was Vash the Stampede.

"Vash!"

Wolfwood knelt beside him, rolled him over, and brushed the sand off the blonde's face. Vash was unconscious, though still alive, prompting the preacher to shake him and call his name.

"Come on, Spikey."

At last, Vash's eyes opened halfway. Everything was blurred together, yet he could make out a dark-haired figure hovering above him. There was a voice as well; it echoed in his ears as if the person was far away. Cool liquid splashed on to his forehead. Suddenly he felt something pressed against his lips. He opened his mouth and made a sound of delight the instant water flooded inside. He lifted a quivering hand to hold the bottle to him as he drank greedily.

"Okay, that's good. Don't want to have too much at once," Nicholas stated after a handful of seconds and pulled the canteen away. Vash audibly protested feebly and reached for it again, but Nicholas tossed it towards his bike.

"Alright, Spikey, let's get you out of here."

He stood up, swooped Vash in to his arms, and carried him to the motorcycle. He set him down gently in the side car, loaded the blonde's duffle bag behind his cross, and started the engine.

The words all seemed to meld together, but Vash could at least discern his name from the person who had discovered him. At the time being, he had no energy to put up any sort of fight. Did he really need to? Whoever it was seemed to want to help him. He had no choice but to place his trust in this man.

Hearing his name one more time, Vash's head fell back as he succumbed to unconsciousness once again.