I wish I would have met you,

Now it's a little late.

What you could have taught me,

I could have saved some face.

They think that your early ending,

Was all wrong.

For most part they're right,

But look how they all got strung.

That's why I saw hey man, nice shot.

What a good shot, man.

That's why I saw hey man, nice shot.

What a good shot, man.

Nice shot.

Vash walked beneath the setting sun, desert sand beneath his boots. He was still bleeding from various wounds, bruises forming on his face. His sunglasses were firmly planted across his nose. The streets of Santa Fe drew closer, the churches, businesses, governor's office... he knew them all by heart. His gun swung by his hip. His mind focused on one thing, and one thing only. Knives. Knives was waiting for him here, ready for the final battle. The final duel. Vash's last fight, no matter how it ended. A wind blew the dust across his face, sticking in the blood that trickled down from a cut near his eye. Vash passed through the outskirts of town and began to walk down the main street, coming up on the general store.


Knives could feel it. Today was the day. Vash was coming. Knives leaned on the outer wall of the church he had been sleeping in since he first felt Vash's presence. It would all be over before anyone would find the bodies. Knives took a deep draw on his cigarette and blew a smoke ring. He wore two guns now, both on the same belt, the right slung low, the left properly at his hip. The man with no name's hat still sat on his head. The tobacco ember nearly burned his lips as it crawled up the paper. He dropped the stub in the dirt and ground it out with his boot heel, and started to walk towards the town square. Soon, very soon. He watched a young girl pass by on the sidewalk. He pulled the brim of the hat over his eyes as he passed her, his left hand hanging onto it, his right silently, unnoticeably pulling the hammer back on his gun. His mind filled with the vision of drawing, putting a bullet between her eyes before she even saw her insignificant life flash before them. The rush of the kill, true euphoria. No. Not yet. As she continued past him, he eased the hammer forward again, pulling the hat brim back up and reaching into his jacket for another cigarette. Vash. He understood that Vash was no insignificant. Vash was the only one west of the Mississippi that stood a chance of bringing down Knives, he understood that. It wouldn't happen. He struck a match across his teeth to light the cigarette. Taking another long draw, he turned the corner from the general store onto main street, and there, walking into town, was Vash. To the passerby, he seemed to be crying blood. Knives tossed his match in the dirt before he strode out into the middle of the intersection. Although the street was wide, Knives gave the impression of blocking Vash's path every bit as well as a brick wall. For a moment, they both said nothing. Then, Knives smiled, the paper still clenched between his teeth.

"So, you're finally here, brother."
Vash did not reply. Knives squinted. The sun was setting behind his brother, making it hard to really see any definition. The red of the sky nearly matched his coat. Blood red.
"What now, Vash? Care to come into the saloon for a beer? Maybe a hamburger? I'll buy."

Vash still did not reply. The blood from his eye dripped down his chin and into the sand.

"Still as silent as ever."
The girl he had passed earlier rounded a corner, a basket full of groceries in her arms. So... beautiful. Knives grinned.
"How about I loosen your tongue?"
Knives' right hand moved in a perfect mirror with Vash's left. Knives drew and fired. The girl did not have time to realize he had moved before the bullet was streaking towards her head. Vash fired as well, compensating perfectly for the wind, distance, gravity, and speed of his target. Sparks appeared to explode out of thin air a foot away from the girl's nose. She screamed and dropped to the dirt. Anticipating his brother's action, Knives had already fanned his palm across the hammer, turning the revolver and readying a second shot. He squeezed the trigger before the girl's basket had touched the ground. With a bang that was almost indiscernible from the first, even with the flames and smoke of his first shot hanging around the muzzle of his gun, the girl fell, dark blood dripping from a hole between her now-empty eyes. Vash gritted his teeth and turned the gun towards Knives. Knives spat his cigarette out and ground it under the heel of his boot as his left hand went for his other gun. It was the beginning of the end.

A man has gun.

Hey, man, have fun.


Nice shot.

Vash fired. Knives dropped backwards, the bullet ripping a hole in his vest but leaving him unharmed. He pulled the hammers back on both his guns and fired. Vash turned his body to the side, backpedaling towards the general store, the bullets passing harmlessly through the space he'd been a moment before. Knives hit the dirt and came up in a roll, sending more bullets after Vash, shooting out the window of the saloon behind him. He backpedaled back to the barbershop across the street and rammed the door open with his shoulder, ignoring the screaming people inside. He smashed the window overlooking the street with the butt of one gun and aimed with the other. Vash dove through the glassless window of the saloon. A man lay on the floor, screaming as blood poured from his gut, the impact of one of Knives' stray bullets. The other patrons and the bartender cowered beneath tables. Knives fired from across the street. Another bullet tore through the wall. A woman fell from her crouch, clutching her leg. Both the brothers snapped their guns open, spent brass falling around their feet. Throwing in fresh bullets with a practiced reloading trick and closing the breach of his gun with a flick of the wrist, Vash fired at Knives, carefully aiming so that no innocent was behind his brother. Knives ducked, the bullet taking off his hat and dropping it on the barber shop floor. Knives returned with another shot, shattering a whisky bottle. They were going to get nowhere like this. Vash moved first, dashing across the street, emptying his gun again as Knives followed him, both barrels blazing. They took cover inside the next two corner stores, Vash crouching inside the general store, Knives having mistakenly dived into the sheriff's office. He quickly disposed of the sheriff before the overweight man could even register what was happening. He eyeballed a wanted poster with Vash's face on it, and put a smoking hole in that, too. The real Vash leaned around the doorframe of the general store, sending a few shots towards Knives. Knives leaned around the doorway of the sheriff's office, firing back and driving Vash away from a shooting position. He holstered his guns and gave a sly look behind him. A sheriff's office always had the right tool for the occasion.

Vash smashed out a window to shoot through, waiting for Knives to show his face again.
BOOM!
Vash swore as he dropped to the floor, the terrified cashier whispering prayers and the few customers covering their heads as a flurry of shotgun pellets filled the building, tearing open cans and jars. Liquid began to run across the floor towards Vash. Knives fired again, tearing the back wall even further apart. Knives continued firing as he ran out the door and began crossing the street, pinning Vash down. Once the gun was out of shells, Knives tossed it to the dirt and drew his revolvers again, raising the left towards the store. Vash popped up and fired at Knives, the bullet snapping the gun in his left hand over his shoulder and into the dirt. Knives rolled onto the porch as Vash fired again. He reached into the vest for his matches. Seizing one, he dragged it along the butt of his gun, lighting the tiny flame. He threw it over Vash's shoulder. It hit the floor, covered in strawberry preserves, oil, and gasoline.
BOOM!

I wish I would have met you,

I wish I would have met you,


I wish I would have met you,

I'd say nice shot.

The store ignited in a fireball, throwing Knives into the street. He stood, patting his singed clothes to make sure he wouldn't catch aflame. He looked up at the smoldering remains of the store. He could hear screams from inside as the occupants no doubt fought a futile battle for their lives. Knives smiled and took a cigarette from inside his vest, along with another match. He struck the match on the butt of his gun and raised it to the paper.

Bang.

A bullet passed by his ear, close enough to blow out the delicate match flame. Knives' eyes widened as he looked at the burning building. Vash stood clearly in the center of the flames, tongues of fire licking around his boots, his gun held level with Knives' head.
"Impossible."

Bang.

Vash stepped through the window, seemingly unaffected by the flames around him. His coat had been badly singed, blacked and in threat of bursting into flame. Knives knelt in the road, clutching his shoulder, blood running up his arm, his eyes twitching with the pain. He looked up at Vash, whose face was still every bit as grim and unemotional behind his sunglasses as when they'd begun.
"How did you...?" Knives trailed off. He reached for his gun, clumsily pulling it halfway from the holster before Vash struck. Seizing Knives' gun with one hand, he slammed Knives across the face with his own, sending his brother into the dirt with a broken nose, his gun sliding from it's holster and bouncing out of his reach. Knives sat up, his eyes still showing the shock he felt, blood gushing from his nose. Then, his face went from shock to an animalistic rage. He reached for his boot, gripping a hidden knife. He raised it, leapt to his feet, and with a scream, brought it down. He plunged it into Vash's shoulder and withdrew it again. Vash did not move or so much as grunt as more blood stemmed from where the knife had struck. It had sliced through the bone, passing dangerously close to Vash's heart. Knives let out a short bark of a laugh as he took a step back from his brother, still holding his shoulder, wavering on his feet.

Meryl sat beneath an oak tree, watching Orion fly across the heavens. Moonlight fell across her face, fallen leaves lay around her. A fire burned across the river. The din made by Julius' family was oddly gone, and she felt that it was for the better. There were two things that would happen as she waited. Either Vash would return to her, or Knives would step from the bushes to kill her and everyone he saw.

I wish I would have met you,

I wish I would have met you,

I wish I would have met you,


I'd say nice shot.

Vash pulled the hammer back on his revolver, bringing it to rest against Knives' forehead.

"It's over, Knives."

Knives closed his eyes and leaned against the barrel.

"You're right Vash. I was a fool."

Knives chuckled. Then he began to laugh. He lifted the knife behind his head, threatening to stab Vash again.

"Don't do it, Knives."

Knives began to laugh harder.

"Don't!"

One of Knives' hands went for the barrel of Vash's gun, the other began to lower the knife at Vash's heart. He pulled Vash's gun down to his own heart.
"Knives!" Vash yelled, scolding his brother for what he knew was the last time. Knives laughed still harder.

Bang.

With a final bullet, a thousand families were avenged. Souls that watched the battle cried both for joy and sorrow, and as Legato fell towards Hell, he saw another that he recognized falling above him.

Knives' body fell back into the street, and Vash watched as the last of his manic glee disappeared from his eyes. The knife fell from his hands and rolled into the dirt. Knives Millions was dead. Vash silently holstered his gun. It was over. Vash reached out for the sense of emptiness he had expected, the sadness he'd felt at the taking of a life. It was there, but now... something held it at bay, something beautiful, a wall made of light.

Love. He realized it was love. Not just his love for Meryl, but what it had taught him. Love for her, but love for Knives as well, love for everyone, love for the world. It held back his sorrow, held back his pain, and for that he was grateful. Vash the Stampede walked back out of Santa Fe the way he had come, leaving the town, never to return.

Meryl watched the road intently. A lone figure appeared, trudging resolutely onward. She stood.
"Vash?"

She received no reply.
"Vash! Vash, is that you?"
For a moment, fear wrenched her gut. It wasn't Vash. A laughing face flashed through her mind, an evil, maniacal Vash that came to kill her. Or it could be Legato, who was coming to take her with him to the land of the dead...


"Meryl..."
"Vash!"

She ran to him, throwing her arms up against his chest, holding her head against his blood-soaked chest. He struggled to wrap his arms around her.

"Vash, Vash, Vash, I'm so glad you're alive."
Her own tears began to mix with Vash's blood. He kissed the top of her head, his pain seeming to melt away with her touch.

Beneath the stars, they stood like that for eternity.

The End