A/N: Sorry for taking so long. This one was very difficult to write (especially without my beta! :( ). After this, I need a little happy. I might take a small break to start another Trigun fic, but we'll see. :)
I'll leave you with this: if you've stuck with this story for this long and have come along for the tumultuous, sad journey of Vash's, I'm hoping you'll continue to do so after this chapter...
Much thanks to wolf93ee for the kind review! :)
At eight in the morning, Wolfwood got the message that they were a dozen iles or so from Knives' operational hub. With a duffle bag provided to him, he packed some clothes and the like, and just before he opened the door to leave his room, he went to pick up the picture frame to look at it one last time. Giving a small smile, he voiced quietly, "I'll see you in a bit, needle-noggin," and after a minute or two, he set it down next to the man's sunglasses that he planned to leave behind as well.
While he tried to eat something for breakfast (his anxiousness was making him nauseous), Luida briefed him and Livio on what the next step was. In order to remain undetected, the two of them were being dropped off where they currently were now and would have to complete the remainder of the trip on foot.
"Remember to be careful of what you say," Luida advised, "and how you act. We'll be listening through the transmitter in your earring, but some things may be too difficult to hear, so I ask that you repeat anything of importance to us when you get the chance and a description of any place the Ark may be vulnerable for when we move in."
As they went to stand on the lowering platform, a group had gathered to see them off, including Meryl and Millie who both appeared to be quite worried. Wolfwood offered them a smile, which they returned along with waving goodbye.
"You're our best hope at the moment," Luida stated. "Good luck."
In a matter of a couple of minutes, Livio and Wolfwood were standing in the open desert and watched as the aircraft flew away from the area until it was merely a speck on the horizon.
Turning to the priest, Livio asked, "Shall we?"
Breathing in deeply, Wolfwood nodded. "Let's get this over with."
A tiny groan sounded from Vash as he woke up, and he put his hand against his stomach just as it gave a growl of its own. He hadn't eaten anything since the generous breakfast Knives had provided him with two days prior.
"Hungry," he mumbled miserably.
Unhurriedly, he sat up and stayed seated on the bed, knowing his brother would no doubt be coming to get him at any time – hopefully, with food in tow. Simply imagining all the wonderful things he'd eaten last made his mouth water and his stomach continuously cry.
It wasn't long at all before the older plant strolled into the room and appeared content at finding the outlaw awake. The absence of any sustenance caused Vash to feel incredibly despondent; his depressed mood was reflected in his dull eyes that stared at the other man pleadingly.
"We're getting ready to leave," Knives explained. Checking to ensure the metal collar was still secured around the gunman's neck, he added, "Let's go."
"Knives?"
"Yes?"
"I'm really hungry."
"I'm sure you are."
The reply didn't give Vash the impression Knives particularly cared, prodding him to ask, "Can I have something?"
"Maybe later."
"Knives-"
"Come on." He tugged on the leash strong enough to make Vash fall forward onto the floor. "I said, 'We're leaving'."
Vash's legs shook as he stood and followed his twin. It was hard to remain upright, yet he persevered through the fatigue and pain, knowing it was surely better to walk than be dragged on the ground. They boarded the aircraft ahead of Knives' followers, who all trailed reverently behind him.
Spotting the line of men filing up the stairs leading to the Ark, Wolfwood started sprinting towards it.
"We have to hurry!" he yelled to Livio.
The two of them were little more than an ile away, and even though they were running quickly, he worried they wouldn't make it in time. There wasn't a way to tell how many followers had already gotten on or how many were left; if the current person just emerging from the stationary remnant vessel was the last, they'd be too late. Waiting for the Ark to return again was out of the question.
When they reached the staircase a minute later and saw several more men approaching, Wolfwood breathed a sigh of relief.
We're here, we made it. Thank god. First part's done.
While Livio was busy acknowledging the many "welcome back's" and "congratulations'" people told him, the priest kept himself focused on the next obstacle in their way: fooling Knives.
The two of them were led by a couple of men, whom Livio addressed as Leo and Bradley and introduced Wolfwood as "John" to them, to the area of the Ark where the servants resided. A few rooms were unoccupied, and once they were alone in the one that was to be theirs, they dropped their bags on the floor and took a seat on the beds positioned across from each other.
"Well, we made it," Livio commented, echoing Wolfwood's previous thoughts. "None of them seem to suspect a thing."
"What made you think of 'John' for my name?"
"First one that came to mind. Now, what do you want to do?"
"Let's go find him. Get it over with."
A handful of people were walking by outside their room and mentioning food, prompting them to follow in hopes Knives would be around or someone could point them to him. After passing through a number of hallways, they arrived at a large room designated as the commons area. The majority of Knives' army was present, some eating a late breakfast while others just socialized at the four long tables. All at once, Wolfwood's heart seemed to stop. His gaze landed on the large throne-like chair near the front of the room, but it wasn't the person sitting in it that caught his attention; it was who was next to it that had him in disbelief. Seated cross-legged on the floor, head slightly lowered, blonde hair concealing part of his face, was Vash.
"Oh my god," Wolfwood whispered, dumbfounded.
It didn't seem possible; this couldn't be the Vash the Stampede. He appeared frail and terribly thin. His muscle tone had disappeared somewhat from the lack of physical activity and from his body eating the tissue for energy. For the time being, Wolfwood couldn't discern any new scars, though he didn't doubt their existence.
Vash….Dear god….What has he done to you?
He could feel the hopelessness, remorse, and self-blame emanating from his friend, which broke his heart and brought on a wave of guilt.
"Nick."
The preacher glanced at Livio, swallowed the knot in his throat, and nodded. "I'm okay."
"You sure you can do this?"
"Yes….let's do it."
Gradually, they began advancing across the area, and as the cheers for Livio's return continued, Knives turned his attention to the two of them and was instantly regarding Wolfwood with distrust. The blue eyes were so piercing, Nicholas almost couldn't hold his stare; however, he knew that if he didn't, it would immediately be cause for the hateful plant to scrutinize him more closely. Vash had no reaction whatsoever to his brother standing up or to the two men that came in front of them.
Extending his hand to shake Livio's, Knives greeted, "I'm pleased to see you've returned."
"It's my honor to come and serve you again, my Master."
"I trust you took care of him?"
"Yes, but he's actually the one who had the pleasure of finishing the task," Livio answered, pointing to Wolfwood.
Again, Knives' icy eyes were on the priest, surveying him up and down. "You?" he asked tartly.
"Yes," Nicholas replied in a voice pitched a bit lower than usual. At the sound of it, he saw Vash sit up straighter, yet continued to keep his head bowed.
"And you are?"
"John."
"I enlisted his help for the task to ensure it'd be successful," Livio added, sensing Knives' skepticism.
"It was an honor to do your wishes," Nicholas stated.
Knives smirked, briefly glimpsed at his twin, and then sat down. "It would delight me to hear how you made that traitor suffer."
Being fully aware the man wanted to be painted a grisly picture, the preacher decided to give him just that. "We intercepted him outside of December. After a long fire fight, we closed in. Broke his legs so that there would be no possibility of escape. Livio kept him sedated while I cut off the tips of his fingers one by one, sliced open his abdomen, carved your name into his back, and finally finished with sawing off his head. Whenever he passed out, we waited until he regained consciousness to make sure he suffered as much as possible."
During his story, a satisfied grin swept across Knives' countenance, and Vash began visibly shaking.
"We left him in the desert for the vultures to feed off of."
"Excellent."
The voice that spoke next surprised everyone.
"Did he say anything?" Vash inquired timidly, at last lifting his head to gaze at the two men for the first time. His eyes were brimming with tears, and upon seeing his devastated expression and gaunt face, Wolfwood was overwhelmed by the urge to embrace him lovingly.
Instead of physically consoling him, the priest decided to try and assuage his grief by responding with, "Yes, he did."
The outlaw stared at him with great anticipation, his heart racing.
With as much indifference as he could manage, he continued, "He said, 'Tell Spikey I love him.' Is that you?"
The tremendous amount of sorrow that washed over Vash's features was indescribable; Wolfwood wondered if he'd done the right thing in divulging his true feelings for the Humanoid Typhoon or if he'd simply made it all worse. As the blonde slowly looked to the floor once more, tears tracking down his cheeks, the preacher could discern he was bursting into pieces on the inside. It would only take two words to alleviate the gunman's emotional anguish, to say "It's me," and bring Vash a minute bit of happiness in the oppressing Hell he'd been submerged in, but it wouldn't do anyone any good in the long run.
A callous chuckle came from Knives as he witnessed his twin's reaction. "You'll have to excuse him, gentlemen. He had a disgusting fling with that piece of human garbage and ended up stupidly falling in love with him, didn't you, little brother?" He ended his sentence in a patronizing tone, and Wolfwood wanted to punch him for it. "I hope you remember it well, the last time he fucked you. You've heard the news directly from the person who killed him; he's dead, Vash. I expect you'll truly quit your whining about him now-"
Suddenly, Vash was up and lunging for Wolfwood, knocking him to the ground. He sat atop the preacher, put his hand around the front of the man's neck, and judging by the madness in his jade eyes, Wolfwood believed if someone didn't pry the plant off of him soon, Vash would forego the one rule he'd abided by his entire life and strangle him to death.
"YOU KILLED HIM!" Vash erupted angrily, stunning not only Knives and Livio from how loud and malicious he was, but the other thirty three men present as well that now watched as if it were entertainment. "YOU KILLED HIM! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!"
It took both Vash's brother and Wolfwood's partner to pull the blonde away. Repeatedly, the outlaw lurched forward to get at Nicholas, and after the third time of being unable to break free from their hold, Vash struck Livio with a clenched fist and then did the same to his twin. Wrapped up in his rage, he didn't notice how infuriated Knives was now. The older plant wiped the traces of blood from under his nose, jerked the chain to Vash's collar, and got him to his feet.
"I am fed up with you," he snarled, and Vash suddenly realized he'd committed a grave mistake. "I'm done. If you're so in love with such inferior beings, then so be it. I'm turning you over to them; let them 'love' you back, or rather show you how much they don't care for you by being the animals they are."
Vash's voice wavered as he spoke hastily, "Knives, I'm sorry-"
"Maybe this will be the lesson you've needed to learn, that they are not worth protecting." He shoved the blonde forward and announced, "For one time only, he's yours. Do whatever you want with him. Fuck him, beat him, spit on him, break his bones – whatever, I don't care; as long as you leave him alive. You've all lost something because of him – family, friends, homes, children – all because of Vash the Stampede. Here's your chance to have at the legendary gunslinger and deal your own retribution."
Wolfwood could see his own feelings reflected in Vash's panicked, apprehensive expression. Steadily, Vash turned around to face what now looked like an angry mob, and then all at once, he started running. Pandemonium broke out as the group closed in on him like a wild herd chasing its prey. The priest stepped forward with the intention of racing to the aid of his friend, yet Livio halted him and warned, "Don't do it." Nicholas glared at him irately, though he didn't advance any farther.
Lord, please help him, he prayed silently. Please do something to protect him!
From out of nowhere, a chair suddenly struck Vash, sending him sprawling to the floor. In a matter of seconds, he was being raised up by his arm, and two people held him in place as others began violently punching him. One right after another, fists collided with his face, the sides of his skull, and his stomach. Whenever his head lolled forward after a blow, someone pulled on his hair to lift it up again in order for another man to get a clean hit in. Within less than a minute, blood was flowing from his nose, leaking from his mouth and puffy bottom lip, and vivid bruises were beginning to appear.
"You're more than welcome to join them," Knives offered casually as he took a spot next to Nicholas and excitedly watched the maltreatment of his twin. "I've lost count of how many times I've had to do this myself; he just never seems to learn, though."
The priest cringed at the words, his assumptions being proven correct that Vash had indeed been abused for some time now.
Someone shouted, "Make sure he stays conscious!" before Vash was thrown to the floor, and the group concentrated more on striking his entire body with their boot-clad feet than his head like they had been. Not knowing what else to do, Vash curled up to lessen the surface area of where they could hit him and placed his arm over his head in an attempt to shield it. His bloodied face had become so swollen, he couldn't open his right eye, and he was barely able to do so with his left. From all around him, he could hear the men yelling and swearing at him; he'd done well in keeping his pain un-vocalized, though in his mind, he was crying out.
After ten minutes the servants stopped, giving Vash a glimmer of hope that they were bored and done. As usual, he was proven wrong. Gruffly, he was hoisted up, stumbled as he was dragged toward one of the tables, and emitted a small groan from being thrown against the end of it. Someone pulled on his arm and held it on top of the table, causing him to bend over to where he was lying against the surface from the waist up. He was unable to focus, to make any sort of coherent thought or realize anything other than the throbbing anguish of his entire being.
"It's been awhile since any of us had a lady," one of the men stated, untying and lowering Vash's pants to his ankles while he spoke. "But you'll do just fine. I hear you're a good fuck anyway."
Groggily, Vash lifted his head and looked around slowly, and from where he stood, Wolfwood could sense the outlaw had no clue what was about to happen to him. It'd been absurdly difficult for the priest to keep from interfering while his friend was ferociously pummeled; now, it was proving almost impossible to refrain from rushing to the Humanoid Typhoon's side to help him. Watching the stranger sensually run his hands along Vash's beaten skin made Wolfwood seethe with rage and jealousy.
For god's sakes, Vash! Do something! he thought madly. What's wrong with you?! Fight back! You're just going to lay there and take it?!
He knew he was being extraordinarily harsh to Vash by thinking such things, yet he couldn't help but feel angry at the gunman for not doing anything to defend himself, to keep them from using him. It was clearly evident the plant was exhausted, and still, Wolfwood wanted to yell at him for not putting up a struggle.
"Would either of you like to have him first?" Knives asked generously. "I'll stop Robert now if you do. My best should have the privilege of going before anyone else."
Wolfwood's hands balled in to fists at his sides; somehow, he managed to reply calmly, "No, I'm fine."
"Livio?"
"I appreciate you thinking so highly of us, Master, but I'll abstain for now."
Knives shrugged and grinned. "Very well. Enjoy the rest of the show then. Oh, and I entrust you to escort him back to his room whenever they finish. Hall E, room four."
As Knives returned to his throne, Wolfwood was quite tempted to shoot him dead; by some miracle he didn't understand, he kept himself from drawing his weapons.
"Nicholas," he abruptly heard Luida's voice in his ear. "What's going on?
"Stop listening," he mumbled firmly. "Now."
"Nich-"
"Turn it off now!"
Vash wailed loudly as he was forcibly penetrated, causing the followers to roar with laughter and whoop in approval. With several jerking motions, the man eventually sheathed himself inside of the outlaw, who clawed at the table as if trying to crawl away. His face, which was fractured in a number of places, contorted into an expression of sincere agony and underlying mortification. Each vicious thrust Robert did elicited a shaky cry from the plant, making Wolfwood feel like his heart was being pierced by a bullet with every pitiful noise. He saw Vash's legs trembling as they strained to keep themselves from buckling, and he wanted so much for the gunman to kick the male behind him, but he knew it wasn't going to happen.
You have to do something, Vash! Come on! I know you're stronger than this!
Upon feeling someone's fingers petting his hair, Vash tried freeing his arm to stop whoever it was; he was unsuccessful and merely garnered more pairs of hands caressing him eagerly.
There'd been numerous times in his life where he'd been treated like a monster, an animal – those instances paled in comparison to how he felt now. In this moment he wasn't a person; he was simply an object to be used for whatever the group desired. He wasn't a living being. He had no value. The only emotion to feel other than utter humiliation was worthlessness.
"Knives…." he began wretchedly. Resting his head against the table, he continued telepathically, "Please. Please don't let them do this. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Knives laughed, entirely amused at his twin's resilient spirit being so obviously shattered at last. "I'm sorry too, Vash. Sorry that you have to be taught this way."
"Knives please!"
"It's too late for that, dear brother."
Vash lay panting and quietly whimpering as Robert finally ejaculated inside of him. Not five seconds after the servant pulled out and stepped to the side, a few shouted for the gunman to be flipped over. Groaning feebly, Vash was completely limp while he was turned to lie on his back, his legs dangling over the edge of the table. Even though his head currently felt like it weighed as much as a cinder block, he lifted it in an attempt to ascertain if this torture was indeed going to continue. The next in line hoisted and placed the plant's legs onto his shoulders, and after glancing downward at the Humanoid Typhoon's flaccid member, the man commented, "For a legendary outlaw, he doesn't disappoint! He's hung like an animal!"
The bout of laughter the observation brought on caused Vash's cheeks to redden from embarrassment, though one could barely discern it due to the bruising and blood staining his entire complexion. Wolfwood pretended as if he had an itch under his nose in order to conceal his mouth and the string of curse words he muttered.
Displaying signs of fighting back at last, albeit quite weakly, Vash sat up halfway and swung his fist to hit his assaulter. He missed entirely and was hurriedly sedated once more. Instead of someone pinning his arm down, however, it was held upward and without warning, a solid, metal object struck his elbow with incredible force. He screamed, and just as the hammer collided with his bone again and snapped his arm, his body was invaded.
Both Livio and Wolfwood had to look away from the grotesque injury for a brief moment in stark contrast to Knives, who seemed intrigued and excited by the damage. Lifelessly, Vash's arm fell to the table's surface with a thud, and he didn't dare move it from where it landed. The current abuser pumped in and out of him steadily, arousing a pitiful, tremulous moan from him with every powerful thrust.
"That's it!" someone jeered. "Get him squealing!"
Sweat had formed on his skin, making his body sticky enough to lie in place on the table instead of moving up and down ever so slightly from the continuous propulsions. At first, the servant believed the droplets on Vash's face were perspiration, but looking more closely, it was clear they were something else.
With a cruel chuckle, he announced, "He's crying!"
"What a wimp!"
"Just like the bitch he really is!"
"Poor little baby!"
"Cry baby!"
From the corner of his eye, Wolfwood saw Livio's fingers twitch at his sides and could sense his expression was one of agitation; the name understandably hit close to home for the former assassin, and while the priest was glad to see a bit of humanity displayed, he hated the situation that provoked it.
"I don't know how much longer I can watch this," he mumbled discreetly.
"Yeah….It's sickening."
"Livio, I have to do somethi-"
"No. Stay put. We can't do anything for him. I'm sorry."
The preacher closed his eyes, though it didn't do much to block what was happening from his mind; Vash's whimpers and sniffling, the servant's grunting, and the followers' cheering kept him from blacking out the scene.
"WOLFY!"
Wolfwood jumped in surprise at hearing his affectionate name ring in his ears as clearly as if it'd been said aloud. Frantically, he opened his eyes and stared at the outlaw's face. Again, the name was repeated by Vash's voice, and Wolfwood took note that his friend's lips hadn't moved.
What's going on?! How is he doing that?! Am I just hearing things?! Deciding to try the telepathic communication method, he projected the plant's name back mentally. "Vash! I'm here! I'm here!"
There was no answer. It didn't make sense. He wasn't the same species, wasn't related to Vash, had no special connection to the blonde like the one Knives shared with him – what could possibly be the reason for his sudden link with the gunman?
When the servant was finally done, he pushed Vash's legs off of his shoulders, and the weight of his limbs dropping from such a height caused the outlaw to fall off the edge of the table into a crumpled heap on the floor. He was forced on to his hand and knees, and although he almost shrieked from the agony from his arm supporting him, he remained in the position and kept his head bowed; his damp hair shrouded part of his visage, prompting Wolfwood to move to a spot where he could better see him.
"Vash, can you hear me? Spikey!"
"Hey! Get a load of this," one of the men said, kneeling beside the plant. Taking hold of Vash's cock, he began lightly tugging on it to work him into an erection. "I'm milking a cow!"
The spectators were immensely entertained. Wolfwood wanted to vomit.
"What's a cow say?"
Vash trembled as he wept and remained silent.
Slapping the gunman's cheek, he repeated, "What does a cow say?!"
"Stop," the blonde whispered between his hitched breaths. "Please stop."
Another fierce slap. "Answer, you piece of shit!"
There were a few noises that came from Vash that sounded as if he was sobbing before he uttered softly, "Mm….Moo."
"What's that? Can't hear you!"
"Moo."
"How does the little cow go?"
"M-moo."
Extraordinary shame engulfed Vash as his body responded to the unwanted groping. Nicholas' heart ached, yet at the same time, an intense possessiveness welled within him; nobody should be touching Vash in such a manner other than himself. Despite having sympathy for the plant while he was appallingly violated, Nicholas was suddenly enraged by his friend's willingness to allow it to continue.
You're so spineless and pathetic, Vash! he mused irritably. Do you feel better about yourself? That you abided by your stupid belief of never killing? This is what you get for playing the martyr?! They don't care about you like you care about them! Why can't you see some people just aren't worth protecting?! Why didn't you let me come with you?! You wouldn't be suffering like you are now!
It took a couple of minutes before Vash tensed and gave a quivering moan as semen spurted onto the ground. There wasn't time to gather his composure; he winced at his hair being yanked upward and gagged uncontrollably from the firm cock that was shoved into his mouth. A muffled squeal sounded as another man entered him from behind. It was like a game of tug of war, rocking forward then backward, forward and backward; on occasion, the two men's thrusts synced with one another's, making Vash cringe from being squeezed between them.
"Sixty-billion double-dollars' worth of entertainment right here!" Daniel exclaimed humorously.
It was becoming more and more unbearable for Wolfwood to watch. When he saw the person in front order Vash to swallow his semen a few minutes later and then proceed to rub the tip of his dripping cock over the outlaw's beaten face, he turned away and almost threw up.
Once the other man was finished, Vash collapsed to the floor, was still for a moment, and then started dragging himself away from the crowd. They indulged him, allowing him to venture off, and gave him the impression they'd had their fun. Tears seeped out of the plant's swollen-closed right eye and flowed freely out of his left, which he tried to keep open as much as possible. It was an extremely taxing, excruciating endeavor, yet he went on with hauling himself across the area. Extending a tremulous hand, he latched onto a stranger's pant leg just as he crumpled to the ground entirely. Wolfwood glanced behind him, and his stomach dropped.
"Oh god, Spikey," he murmured discreetly.
"Toss him back, John!" Bradley yelled.
It took every bit of self-control he had to not reach down and envelope his friend in an amorous, protective hug.
"Hel-…." Vash whispered breathlessly. "P….plea-….I'm sorry…."
I'm sorry too, Spikey, he thought remorsefully.
Trying to conceal the dejection in his eyes, Wolfwood watched as his dearest friend was dragged back to the center of the crowd. Nathan held the outlaw's left leg in place as a couple of others briskly twisted his ankle until it broke, making Vash wail piteously; Knives was rather aroused by it, and Wolfwood couldn't handle observing any more of the brutalization. Somewhat hurriedly, the priest found the nearest way out, searched various rooms until he found a bathroom, and vomited in one of the toilets.
Sitting back against the stall door, he covered his eyes with his hand and wept.
Vash gasped in shock as he was suddenly drenched with cold water in an effort to keep him conscious and coherent. All at once he was consumed by panic, his memory having been triggered, and began thrashing about wildly.
"Not again!" he cried weakly. "Please, not again!"
Pretending like there'd been no frightened reaction or words muttered, Bradley pinned Vash down on his stomach and penetrated him. Knives, however, dwelled on the outburst for several minutes. It was one more piece to the puzzle of what'd happened to his brother just days prior. At the very least, he now had a good idea of what it involved.
After ten had taken their turn, there wasn't really much pain that stemmed from having intercourse. The numerous results of orgasm lingered inside of Vash, making it quite easy for the ones who still had yet to have a go with him move in and out of his body rather smoothly; there were streaks of the white fluid on the floor, finding its way onto Vash's skin as he was lugged across the area from one person to another numerous times.
It was understandable to Livio how it'd gotten to be too much for Wolfwood. In fact, it'd escalated into something so appalling, even the former Gung-Ho Gun wanted to leave; the foreign sentiment of compassion was returning, much to his displeasure.
He doesn't deserve this. Can't believe I'm saying that when I hated him for so long and wanted to be the one to finally kill him.
Vash could barely utter a sound anymore; there was no energy to do so. His breathing became heavy and at times erratic. His skin glistened with sweat, semen, and blood. More buckets of cold water were thrown on him whenever he looked to be on the verge of passing out.
If Knives was letting it continue for as long as it had, there wasn't a chance he'd stop it now; Vash surrendered to that fact and didn't bother calling to him for help again. He didn't bother saying any sort of objection anymore.
"Let me have a go with him!"
"So much for the legendary Humanoid Typhoon!"
"Vash the Stampede?! More like 'Vash the Fuck-Toy!'"
"I've waited so long to see him pay for all he's done!"
"Keep it going, boys!"
Many chose to take him from behind, and if someone wasn't copulating his mouth, he rested his head and torso on the floor to keep his arm from having to support his weight. The agonizing pain still remained, but he figured it best to stay off of it as much as possible. His knees bled and were becoming increasingly swollen, though he didn't have much of a choice in giving them a break to feel better. His throat and mouth were sore and raw, his body spent and aching.
He lost count after twenty.
As he coughed and sputtered after the present assaulter of his oral orifice pulled out, he also began grunting with the man behind him due to the intensity of the person's thrusts. He fell to the ground, leaving only his lower half elevated and exposed due to the servant's firm grip on his hips to keep his backside up and in place.
Every one of Knives' followers satiated their lust and thirst for revenge by way of the Humanoid Typhoon's body. The entire ordeal lasted nearly three hours. Once they were all satisfied, they leisurely started leaving the room, many laughing callously as they did so. Silently, Livio observed Knives stroll to his twin, who was lying immobile on his side, stare at him for a moment, and shake his head in disappointment.
"Did you learn something, Vash?" he asked glumly. "I don't want to have them have to teach you this again. This was your fault. Letting humans live, continuing to show them compassion….it will get you nothing. Nothing but more disgusting scars and torment. There is no reason to allow them to stay alive. This planet is ours, Vash. It will be our Eden; I hope you will join me at last in what I've only ever tried to give you, dear brother."
With a sigh, he turned and walked out, leaving Livio alone with the barely conscious gunman. For a minute or so, Livio contemplated what he should do. He knew his orders were to ensure the Master's brother was returned to his quarters, but the last thing he wanted to do was go anywhere near the outlaw.
Just get it over with.
He found the plant's clothing, reluctantly knelt beside him, and winced at the sight of him up close. Vash's breathing sounded as if he was wheezing – raspy and shallow – and Livio couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not.
"Hey," he began gently. "Let's get you dressed, alright?"
There wasn't an answer, though he really didn't expect one. Demonstrating extreme care, he commenced guiding Vash's legs one at a time into the dark blue pair of pants; the only indications the blonde was still awake were from the sounds of distress he made. As much as Livio didn't want to touch him more than he already was, he knew Vash wouldn't be able to walk on his own.
Cautiously, he lifted the plant to carry in his arms and said, "Now time to get you to your room."
He remembered Knives' directions, and in just a few minutes, Vash was lying on his own bed. Spotting a washcloth on the edge of the small sink across the room, Livio wet it, squeezed out the excess water, and delicately worked on cleaning some of the blood and semen from the man's face. A number of tears trickled down to Vash's damp hair, yet he was mostly quiet for the duration Livio bathed his visage.
Once finished, the former assassin stated, "You must be thirsty. Let me get you something to drink."
Not seeing any sort of dish, he had the idea to soak the washcloth once more and then returned to sit beside him again.
"Sorry, but this will have to do for now," he apologized while wringing out the water into Vash's parched mouth, though the plant didn't seem bothered; rather, he was quite grateful for anything at all.
Gazing at the outlaw, Livio felt lost. There was nothing he could do to console him or make things better. It'd been a long time since he'd felt helpless. Realizing there wasn't reason to stay, he started to get up, but immediately stopped upon feeling fingertips brush against his hand.
"Livio, right?" Vash whispered almost inaudibly.
"What?" He wasn't sure if he imagined the voice or not; on closer inspection, he could see the blonde's left eyelid struggling to open fully and that under it, the other man was indeed looking at him.
"Your name….Livio?"
"Yes….That's right."
Vash's lips quivered as he tried to smile. "Thank you."
To say he was astonished would've been an understatement. He was entirely flabbergasted, and his stomach churned. After everything that'd happened, Vash was actually thanking him? How could it be that the plant wasn't filled with hate like his brother after what'd just taken place? How was it that he could even smile and say something so kind after the horrendous violations he'd just endured physically, mentally, and emotionally? And as far as he knew, Livio was the one who'd participated in butchering his beloved friend. How did he have it in him to say those two words?
There was nothing to reply with except for, "You're welcome."
Quickly, Livio left, unable to handle being near Vash any longer. The instant he was outside of the room, he could hear the gunman begin to sob weakly.
"I need a break," he mumbled and hurried to his quarters. When he entered he was surprised to find Wolfwood sitting alone with his head bowed, hands clasped in front of him, and staring at the floor. Without a word, Livio sat on his own bed and practically mimicked the priest's posture.
It was five minutes before he broke the uneasy silence.
"I took him to his room," he stated quietly. "He's resting now."
No response.
"Can you believe he actually thanked me for it?"
Wolfwood smirked. "Typical Vash," he muttered.
"Are you okay?"
Before he could respond, Luida's voice sounded in his ear asking, "Nicholas, what happened? Was it Vash? Did you see Knives?"
"Knives isn't a problem. He doesn't suspect anything."
"And Vash?"
The preacher sighed, rubbed his face tiredly, and explained, "We, um….He's alive."
"What was all of that commotion earlier? Is he hurt?"
"Some things happened, yes. That's all you need to know."
"Nic-"
"We're both tired. Just check in with us tomorrow, alright?"
Noting the severe sadness in his tone, Luida decided it best not to press the situation farther. "Alright. I'll speak with you tomorrow."
There was a pause before Livio questioned again, "Are you okay?"
"No," Wolfwood confessed, shaking his head. "I'm not. How are we any better than Knives? We just watched it happen like he did and didn't do a thing to help him. I can't ever forgive myself for that, Livio. Ever. I failed him again."
"There was nothing you could've done. Knives would've killed you in an instant. And who knows? If you revealed who you were, things may have ended worse for Vash."
"I can't forget how he looked at me. I shouldn't have said anything to him….How many actually….?"
"Does it matter?"
Abruptly, Wolfwood stood and attempted to remember where Knives had said Vash's room was. It took him practically fifteen minutes to find it, and when he did, he inhaled deeply, grasped the doorknob, and turned it gradually. To the right of the entrance was the decrepit twin-sized bed with a sleeping Vash lying on it. His ankle was grotesquely colored and swollen, and his arm and face appeared somewhat similar. The black and purple surrounding his right eye was startling, the contusions and swelling alarming, and Wolfwood felt heartbroken.
With tears blurring his vision, he went to stand beside the bed, gazed at the plant's slumbering expression, and whispered, "I'm sorry, Spikey. I wish there was something I could do to protect you. I made the mistake of letting you face him alone once; I don't want to do that again…."
Leaning down, he placed a soft, loving kiss onto Vash's forehead and stroked the blond hair affectionately.
"I love you, Spikey. Just hang in there. We'll get you out of here. I promise."
Just as he was leaving, he suddenly heard his friend's voice in his mind like he had before.
"Wolfy."
Sharply, he turned to look at the other man, though it was clear Vash hadn't woken up.
"Vash? Are you there? It's me. I'm here. Open your eyes. Please."
Nothing.
Not knowing what else to do, the priest reluctantly left. Leaning back against the closed door, he shut his eyes and started uttering a prayer.
"Dear Father in Heaven, please be with him and give him your love. I ask that you please protect him and help him in his ordeal. Let him know he's not alone….In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."
Blue sky and white clouds were all around him. In the near distance, there was a dark outline of someone standing, and as Vash drew closer, he could discern a large cross planted in front of the person for him to lean forward on. At the smell of smoke, the plant grinned, relieved, and although he wanted to simply run to him, tackle him to the ground, and hug him, he had control enough to contain his giddiness and proceed to him nonchalantly.
"Hi there, Wolfy," he greeted cheerily. "How have you been?"
Adjusting the cigarette in his mouth, Wolfwood replied uninterestedly, "Much better without you."
The answer took Vash by surprise. "Huh? What do you mean?"
"Without all your ridiculous dribble about not killing and the trouble you cause, things are pretty nice and quiet. Just like I always wanted. The orphanage is doing great, and I don't have to worry about protecting an idiot like you because he's too self-righteous to do the dirty work himself."
"That's not it at all. It's wrong to take the life of another-"
"There you go again!" the priest yelled, turning around to face the gunman. "I'm sick of you, Vash! Do me a favor and stay the hell away from me. Go back to Knives or something."
"I…." Vash swallowed and blinked a few times before continuing. "I didn't realize you felt that way, I….I'm sorry, Wolfy."
"And would you stop calling me that?! I hate that stupid little pet name! Why do you insist on using it?!"
"You call me by different names-"
"Because you are those names! You are a needle-noggin. Your hair is spikey. I'm not your lover or someone in need of your terms of adoration! I'm not even your friend! You were an assignment. Nothing more. I've completed my mission. I got you to your brother safely. Now please, for everyone's benefit, stay there with him!"
Vash was speechless. His eyes brimmed with tears and gazed at Wolfwood as if he'd been immensely wounded. He couldn't think of anything to respond with even as the preacher started to walk away.
A hand suddenly touched his shoulder, making him jump and turn around. It was Knives, who smiled at him kindly and cupped his face in his hands.
"You don't need him, Vash," he rationalized bluntly. "You don't."
"But Knives, I-"
Tenderly, the older plant kissed his twin's lips before pulling him close to embrace him. "You have me, and I will always be here for you. He never cared about you, not like how I do."
Vash began shaking and sniffling quietly, causing his brother to massage the back of his head gently in order to help console him.
"I love you, Vash. I'll never leave you or hurt you….Do you love me?"
The blonde nodded.
"Then you don't need anyone else."
When they at last broke away from one another, Knives held out his hand. Vash glanced from it to his twin's piercing, yet caring eyes, and after a brief period, he intertwined his fingers with Knives'.
"Come on, little brother. Let's go home."
Trailing slightly behind the white-haired plant, Vash clutched Knives' hand and together, they strayed off toward the horizon.