Chapter 5: No Good Feelings Between Friends

A/N: Alright, another update whoo!  *punches air* I'm wired, I just had a frozen coffee and I'm feeling fine!  Anyways, for all you that reviewed THANK YOU!  And for all of you who I KNOW didn't read the REAL chapter 4, do so please!  I'm sorry it didn't show up as another update.

            Oh and I'm sure you're wondering about that Wolfwood decision…

            *Drum roll*

            No freakin' monkey WAY you're going to find out NOW!  *Classic villain laugh, gets pummeled with rotten vegetables*

            Just go read the chapter *removes rotted, smelly tomato from ear*

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"Dumb boy, getting into trouble up to his ears and expecting me to pull him out of it," Sting grumbled as she straightened her black jacket over her preacher's outfit and buttoned it up, adjusting the collar and looking in the mirror.

            Reflected back to her was the image of a small, white-haired, scarred preacher blind in one eye and short in stature.  Damn, living all my life looking like a man has made it so I'm acting like one, I cuss and grumble like some old fart drinking beer in the local saloon, she thought, shaking out her hair and running her hands through it so it stood up.  For a finishing touch she drew a knife and sheath from her nearby duffle bag and slid it in her boot.

            But at least you're alive, the woman told herself before walking toward the bathroom and opening the window there.  Glancing out she sighed; she'd have to lower herself onto the small ledge that went all the way around the building and then jump from there, which only made the fall ten feet or so.  Momentarily she wondered how Vann had accomplished his task of getting onto the roof.

            Shit!

            Dust stirred up as Sting's boots met the ground with a 'thud' and as she rose to her feet, stomping her foot in anger and shaking her hand, where a cut had formed on her palm from a splinter in the wood.  A line of blood appeared but she quickly wiped it away.

A tall figure appeared at the end of the alley and the light from the above moons reflected off of a pair of yellow shades.

            "Nice glasses, Typhoon, maybe I'll borrow them sometime," she said, stopping to stand before him, arms crossing.  "The Inn's within walking distance, I'll go in first and then you and… damn, where's Knives?  Did he back out?"  (A/N: I love Vash's shades!!  They are SO cool!  *squeal*   Okay I just had to put that in.  PS: I love his coat too!  And don't ask why he's wearing the glasses at night; I just wanted to write them in somewhere lol.)

            Vash shrugged.  "I thought he was right behind me."

            "Seems my bluff didn't work as well as I had thought," Sting murmured, "oh well… maybe you two would draw too much attention and seeing how you are the most wanted man on Gunsmoke please try not make a scene.  I checked this Inn out earlier and it's a bounty hunter powder keg… you would be the spark to set a fire to the whole thing."  (A/n: Alright, this Inn is not to be confused with where Vann and Sting were watching Scar through the window.  Different place.)

            "You still haven't told me how you know this Scar guy," the outlaw said as they started walking.

            "Yes I did, he was an old partner of mine, he betrayed me, I thought he was dead, and now he either one: wants to make peace or two: wants me dead," she replied.  "And no, neither of us are wanted in the same sense as you.  No one would give money to catch us… maybe some people I was and he is associated with but even now the authorities don't have a clue who to pin the award on and I don't think they'd trust mercenaries and bounty hunters to go after him… sometimes they're more crooked than the actual criminal."

            Vash sighed.  This was going to be a fun.  "Anything you want to warn me about this guy?"

            Sting crossed her arms.  "I already noted before that he's got the strength of ten men but he carries a revolver and sometimes wears gloves with small steel plates on the knuckles.  He's got the patience of a saint but the temper of a demon and even if he isn't as accurate as some men I know you should still watch out.  He's old, I'm not sure how old, but old... just don't let that fool you.  He's got the spunk of men half his age."  She smirked a little.  "But none of this should be a problem for the great Humanoid Typhoon, eh?"

            "Well, I can see why you were partners with him," the outlaw replied, scratching at the back of his head.  "He's not bulletproof or anything too, right?"

            Sting laughed.  "No."

                                                *                      *                      *

            "Don't see many of your type hanging out around here," the bartender said, wiping down a glass as he stood in front of Sting.

            "Yeah, I'm sure you don't," she replied, yawning.  She had yet to see Scar let alone hear him, which would give him away in a second; she'd know his booming baritone of a voice anywhere.

            "Can I get you anything?"

            "Water."

            "Just water?"

            "Ye-"

            "Nah, c'mon, bartender, pour the good man some whiskey, on me!"

            Sting stiffened at the voice and grunted when a large hand clapped her on the back, jolting her forward slightly.  She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye.

            He was tall, nearly Vash's height with a barreled chest and shoulders wearing a gray, collared shirt with navy blue pants.  His hair was white, much like her own, but the product of age not genetics and constant exposure to sun, his entire face was scarred and badly disfigured, and the hand he laid on the bar had a tattoo across the back of it of a skull and a pair of crossed guns.

            Speaking of the devil, she thought, watching as the bartender poured a shot glass full of the bronze liquid and then sat it down in front of her.

            "I'm supposed to keep my body clean," she spoke in the hoarse rasp she always tried to imitate as Sting the Preacher, "and not indulge in the things of the world, such as drink."

            "I won't tell no one," the man replied, leaning down close to her ear, "your secret's safe with me."

            Sting's eyes narrowed.  "My secrets are safe with no one, including you… Scar."

            A smirk twitched at the corner of the man's thin lips and a large hand was placed on her back.  "Why don't you take up a seat with me in the corner there and we'll talk about lots of things in life?" he boomed, haphazardly throwing the much too curious bartender a glare.

            It wasn't like she had much of a choice, the hand on her back steered her out of her chair and across the room to a cleared corner and glancing slightly to her left she caught sight of Vash, who was talking loudly to a bunch of women.

            I should've tied Knives up and dragged him here, at least he'd be somewhat paying attention and if it meant being able to shoot someone he'd help, she thought, slipping into a wooden chair at the corner of the room as Scar sat across from her and leaned in close across the table.

            "What are you doing in that ridiculous getup girl?" he hissed.

            "Makin' sure I don't get a bullet in my back compliments of an 'old friend'," she replied calmly, crossing her arms.

            "You saying you don't trust me?"

            "I'm saying I'd much rather take my chances unarmed against every drunk in this bar," Sting snapped back, "and don't you dare act hurt, you know you deserve it."

            Vash caught Sting's movement from the bar to the corner table and noticed the large man 'escorting' her, not that he was hard to miss.  Frowning a little he watched as the two fell into heated discussion and with a loud 'thud' the man slammed a fist into the table.  Sting didn't so much as jump but she shifted slightly as if progressively getting more an more uncomfortable.

            While the woman looked unsettled something was picking at the back of Vash's mind.

            To your left, brother, the small human trembling so hard the table he's sitting at is rattling.

            Knives?!  Vash looked around quickly, ignoring the girls sitting around him and spotting his platinum-haired brother near the doorway, sipping at his Scotch, burning a hole into the table with his cold stare.

            I told that spider I would come, didn't I?

            The Humanoid Typhoon might've argued with that if Knives wasn't liable to get up and leave if he did.  He looked around for a second and finally spotted the man Knives had pointed out, blinking once.  Knives thought that guy was capable of something?  He possessed much the same features as a broomstick with mop-like (A/N: my second cleaning tool simile in the same sentence lol, alright, by all means continue) dark hair that rested askew across his forehead.  He wore a dark black cloak across his shoulders and, as Knives had said, was shaking so violently that the table he was sitting at rattled.

            But why would Knives think he's a- Vash's thought was cut off as the man shifted and his hand was revealed grasping the handle of a revolver.

            He watched as, in one swallow, Stick-man finished the rest of his drink and rose to his feet, drawing the gun.  In that same instant something hit him.  There were six other men in that room wearing those exact cloaks… including the man Sting was sitting with.

            Sting!

            Sting would have the rest of that night to wonder exactly what went on in the two seconds that she heard Vash's voice shout her name, a woman scream, and a gunshot, making several other people yell in shock.  She barely had time to glance over her shoulder and spot Knives holding his revolver level with a man who was now slumped in a heap on the floor before someone whisked her off her chair and behind the bar.  Gunfire erupted split seconds later.

            Behind the bar she was sitting beside Vash, who was crouching low, the bartender, who had caught one of the stray bullets, to his right on the floor.  She couldn't tell if he was dead or not but assumed so by the open-eyed shock that was frozen onto his features.

            "You know what, Typhoon, I really want to know how you and Knives do that," Sting said, jumping as something landed beside her and found it was Knives, wiping away some blood seeping from a graze mark on his temple.

            "Gee, Knives, you really must not be up to speed, one already grazed you," Vash teased, grinning at his brother, who scowled.

            "Shut up and start shooting," the Plant snapped.

            "You can kill the others if you want but leave Scar alive," Sting hissed, lifting her hands to cover her head as bottles of liquor that had been resting on the shelves behind the bar shattered and fell down onto them the floor.

            "What a waste," Vash murmured before he and Knives raised them guns level with their shoulders and stood up in unison.

                                                *                      *                      *

            Sting felt very useless between Knives and Vash's sharp shooting and disappointed in herself that she was playing 'damsel in distress'.  For a moment she regretted accepting the Typhoon's offer to help her out as only the Humanoid Typhoon could but realized that if he hadn't been there to cover her she'd probably be dead.

            And Knives… well… she was just grateful to have him around.  For whatever Vash lacked in maturity and seriousness he definitely made up for… maybe made up for a little too much but it was nice to know someone like him was around- even if he did creep her out as no man before had.

            He seemed… different.  But who was she trying to kid?  She was sitting next to the walking, breathing, and, sometimes unfortunately, talking natural disaster's brother.  Of course he was going to be different.

            There hadn't been many of the guys to begin with and between the two blonds there were all down in a matter of seconds though lots of rounds were wasted between the two sides.

            "I will never get use to the sound of gunshots," Sting grumbled as she rose to her feet after she was certain everyone that could cause them harm were out of the picture.  With her coat flowing behind her she vaulted over the bar quite effortlessly and surveyed the damage.

            Seven men wounded.  The woman approached one such unfortunate soul and lifted his left hand to examine a tattoo on the back of it.  A skull set over crossed revolvers.  Her eyes trailed from the hand to the black cloth of the cloak splayed out over the wooden floor.

            "That's significant I take."

            Sting looked up to find Knives' intense eyes burning a hole into the back of her skull.  She rose uncertainly to her full height, which compared to the two men she was with wasn't much, and sighed.  "Yeah, significant," she murmured.  "I'll explain some other time.  Right now… I'm just trying to get over nearly getting killed, not that you care of course, I'm sure you would just click your heels if I'd gotten shot."

            The blond man said nothing but she hadn't really expected him to.  To him it was probably either A. a waste of breath or B. having to admit she was right and that he would actually be quite happy if she died.

            She doubted if it was anything else.  Gritting her teeth she approached Scar's unconscious form.  He had a bullet wound in his left shoulder and another on the top of his thigh but he was still breathing so she could assume it hadn't hit anything vital.

            Vash was watching her earnestly when Sting finally looked up to him.  "You okay?" he asked.

            She laughed.  "Between you and Knives how couldn't I be?"

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            The gunshots had naturally drawn the sheriff and his crowd but by time everything had settled and they could walk in Sting, Vash, and Knives had snuck out the back, Vash carrying Scar's unconscious form over one shoulder as the woman lead them through the twists and turns of the alleys between the buildings and then out onto the dust road again.  They were some distance away from the Inn now and closer to the hotel, which all the inhabitants had emptied out of to go and gawk at the scene.

            "I doubt it'll take long for all of that to get back to me," Sting muttered, running her hands anxiously through her hair.  "We'll have to leave soon and Stampede, if you plan on helping me you'll have to be ready to leave by dawn, I figure that's all the time we got left.  Between now and then I'll explain a little more about all of this."

            "You swear?" Vash asked.

            "Yes, I swear," she replied, waving a hand.  "Do you plan on having those girls come?"

            Vash stared at the ground.  "I don't think I could shake them off if I wanted to.  But I can try."

            Sting looked displeased but nodded nonetheless.  "My truck is on its last limb, the closest town from here is probably a day or so."  Her eyes focused coldly on Scar and both narrowed.  "We'll clean him up and wait for him to wake… I want to have a talk with him then."

            "Do you think the other people in there are okay?"
            "Did either of you miss?"

            "No."

            "Of course not, spider."

            "Then no one else got hurt."

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            "Oh, thank God you're back," Meryl breathed, hand over her heart as the three walked in, her and Milly rising from where they sat at one of the tables.  "Someone told us what was going on and we were worried."  She frowned at the man slung over Vash's shoulders.  "Who's that?"

"The bastard known as Scar, son of a bitch," Sting snarled, before stomping up the stairs, motioning for Vash to follow.

            "Oh, Knives, you're bleeding," Milly pointed out worriedly.

            He scowled at her.  "Just a graze," he ground out before heading upstairs as well.

            Vann watched as Sting walked into their room, pushing the door shut and pulling her coat off, muttering long strings of vulgar curses under her breath.  If someone listened to her in a bad mood they didn't have to wonder where he got his mouth.

            "It didn't go over well?" he asked.

            She didn't reply and instead collapsed onto her bed.  The boy walked over quietly and sighed when he spotted that she must've fallen asleep before her head hit the pillow.  Rolling his eyes he undid her boots and slid them off and folded the sheets, which she was lying on as deadweight, over her as best he could.

            "G'night, Sting," Vann whispered.

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            Sting flinched as someone shook her roughly from sleep and opened her good eye, staring up into fierce blue eyes gazing down at her.

            "Wake up, spider."

            "Knives, what the hell?"  She blinked rapidly trying to adjust to focus on him in the darkness.

            "You said you wanted to leave before dawn, the brat has the truck loaded and your 'friend' is still unconscious and waiting in the bed."

            The woman sat up, rubbing her eyes.  Her feet were bare: Vann's work.  He was always there to take care of her.  She smiled fondly for a moment.  "Where's Vash?" she asked, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and groping around in the darkness for her boots.

            "To your left, spider."

            Sting frowned and moved her hand left slightly and met with the hard leather of her shoes.  "How'd you see that?"

            "I'm not half-blind."

            "Now that was cold."

            "And the truth," he replied in a monotone before turning from her and heading for the doorway.

            "Hey, you, wait, where's Vash?"

            "My idiot brother is saying good-bye to those spider women."

            Sting raised an eyebrow a little but shook it off.  If Knives couldn't be nice to his own brother it wasn't her problem.

            Meryl's eyes opened wide as a hand over her mouth woke her and she was prepared to fight but found aqua blue eyes staring at her in the darkness.  She sighed in relief.  "Vash?" she hissed.  "What are you doing here?"  She sat up a little and reached for the lamp on the bedside table, turning it on low.  Milly was sleeping in her bed on the other side of the room but she slept like a rock and Meryl didn't worry too much about waking her up.

            The shadows cast by the light danced over the outlaw's features.  "Well, I know you hate it when I leave without saying good-bye so…"  He trailed off, scratching at the back of his neck and hoping to God she wouldn't fight with him.  What was he thinking?  Of course she was going to fight him!  This was Meryl!

            "You can't leave, not without Milly and I, it's our job to follow you!"

            "I know that's your job," Vash replied, "but this is dangerous and I don't want anything to happen to you… o-or Milly!"  He added the other insurance girl's name hastily, blushing a little in the darkness of the room.

            "You keep saying that but nothing has happened to us yet," she replied.

            "Yet," he whispered softly.  In his mind he went over how many things could've happened to them.

            She glared at him a little bit.  "Vash… do you honestly believe that you telling me to stay behind is going to make me stay behind?"

            "I was hoping so, it worked once."

            "Well it's not working again!  I never know when I'm going to see you when that happens… whether or not you're…" She trailed off.

            Vash looked earnestly at her.  "What?"

            "Still alive," she murmured.

            "You care?" the outlaw breathed, staring at her in confusion.

            Meryl gave him an incredulous look.  "Of course I care," she snapped.  "Do you think I like watching you leave to only God knows where and not knowing if I'll ever see- mmph!"

            Her words were stopped short by his lips upon her own and for a moment she went rigid with wide eyes before her shoulders relaxed and her eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his soft caress.  It stopped almost as soon as it began and once she got around to opening her eyes again the door was shut, the lamp was off, and Vash the Stampede was gone.

            Damn him!

A/N: Okay, so that was five.  IMO that gunfight sucked (what gunfight?  There wasn't enough written in that part for anything to be considered a gunfight!!) and that mush at the end could have gone better, all things I wish to maybe make better if they're to reoccur so, er… you know the routine!  Read and REVIEW!!