Spoilers TM1,2
Wolfwood...
The instruction had been so simple. Get Vash to Carcasses. It had taken a lot of wheedling, nagging, bike wrecks and downright stubbornness but he had finally managed to drag Vash across the isles of sand. He watched the haunted expression on Vash's face as he regarded the monument in the middle of the town. He felt a twist of nausea then, a revulsion at what he had done to cause that reaction in his friend. He had done the right thing, Vash needed to see this place. He knew the rumours, if the legend of Vash and his brother was anything remotely like the truth, then Vash must have seen such things before. Why did he take it to the heart every time? Surely he had some sort of barrier up? Didn't everyone? Wolfwood knew he did, else he would have succumbed to despair and given up on life. Sometimes Vash was simply confusing in his reactions, and it would be up to him, Wolfwood to needle the reason out of him. He pondered why Knives had given the Eye of Michael this peculiar assignment – to watch his brother. What services did he expect from them except assassination? Why did Knives want Vash watched at all? Wolfwood had an inkling of the answer to that question, the man was so bloody stubborn, he needed to be poked and prodded in the right direction. For all his talk of confronting Knives, he did tend to wander in the opposite direction and end up in scraps helping people instead of fighting the greater fight.
Wolfwood was not entirely surprised when Rei-Dei stepped out and challenged Vash. It was somewhat pleasing to give the cocky samurai a level stare as he told him to keep out of the death match. The alarmed expression on Vash's face when he realised they knew each other was more of a concern, but fortunately Rei-Dei and his challenge distracted the man. Wolfwood leaned on his Punisher, pondering Rei-Dei's sanity. Honestly, a sword against a gun? He hoped the battle distracted Vash enough. Probably not. He kept forgetting - even having spent time in the man's presence - that he was Knives's brother, and that meant that he was clever, even if he did channel his intelligence into empathy and magnanimity. Oh, no, Vash would not forget that slip of Rei-Dei's. Wolfwood grimaced; he would have to bluff or pretend ignorance if Vash asked him again how he knew Knives.
He was somewhat surprised at the fight. Vash being the pacifist he was, dodged and tried not to fight. But Rei-Dei fought dirty. Not in his fighting style, but in his timing and nature of his taunts. Wolfwood had loosened the holster that held his pistol when he'd heard the threat. They knew of Vash's secluded home. That sort of threat did not sit well with Wolfwood, it was fine to attack a man and his integrity and to allow him to defend himself and his honour. But it was way below the belt to attack a man's home and those he loved. He felt his heart twist, he knew he should not be surprised, he knew that sort of betrayal intimately. It was why he defended the orphanage so passionately. He was impressed at the adaptability of Vash and his fighting styles, taking on a blade with ingenuity and cool use of his gun.
It was as Vash walked away, with his back to Rei-Dei that Wolfwood noticed the man twitch. No, he would not give him a chance to strike his friend. He had twisted honour enough in embroiling Vash's loved ones in this, he would not be given the chance at the cold treachery of a back stabber. It felt good to shoot him. One less deadly assassin to worry about, and some people would live now that he was dead. Only, Vash did not seem to see it that way, the way the man strode over and smacked him through the face, sending his glasses spinning. Wolfwood lost it. He'd dragged his sorry backside over to the town to help him understand the gravity of the situation, hell they had even received a hint that Vash's friends were in danger, why such bitter ingratitude for taking out a very clear threat? He punched Vash in the face, sprawling him out on the ground, and lectured him in a way the man would understand. He knew what bothered Vash, the killing. Gah, but the man was weirdly trusting and too soft hearted. How had he lasted so long without falling to despair, he did not know. Then somehow Vash turned it around that he, Wolfwood did not understand. What did he not understand? Treachery? Betrayal? Dying? He whipped out his pistol and shoved it in his friends hand and pointed it at his own head. He was so angry that giving his own life would be worth it to allow Vash to understand how to protect himself in this bloody world. Oh, but then he did it again, turned it around again. How did the seemingly air-headed fool, have this strange depth to his philosophy? He did not know how to answer this time. But he was sure of one thing, Vash had somehow cemented himself as one of the people he honestly, deeply respected. In his ragged, patched heart, this was not comfortable, but it eased a deep pain he had long carried.
