TWENTY-SEVEN: demons

There was something to be said of this world on the subject of demons. Though they might not exist in the reality of time and space, inside the mind of a lover, friend, or family, they caused the most severe kinds of pain. The pain of self-doubt or pity, fears that eat away at the heart and soul.

Just as they were appearing within Meryl now, while she watched Vash turn about in a fitful slumber. No, not slumber. He wasn't asleep, yet at the same time, he wasn't fully awake, either. Hallucinations filled his mind, and Meryl knew they were painful and frightening simply by the way he moved, by the occasional cries and shouts and sudden intakes of breath while he was placed into some form of hell that he couldn't escape.

He called out, opening his eyes to look at her. She wasn't sure if he had really seen her or made focus on her image, but she knew that in the least it had caused him some momentary ease. Tension crept along in him as he drifted from the world, leaving Meryl to fret over his sudden ill-ease.

What Demons haunt your dreams, Vash?

She watched over him like a mother would for a sick child. Her senses were firmly tuned to the world around them. She looked to Milly with a pained expression, but he called again for her softly.

This time, the word sounded as though it pained him even to speak it. Shock filled her soul as tears flowed down the soft contours of his cheeks. She gently reached up, wiping the streaks away though more followed. Her hand was soon damp with his tears. Tears he cried for his pain, because of her.

"I'm still here, Vash. I won't leave you. I'm still here." Her hand slipped down along his arm, gently squeezing his fingers when she found them. "I'm still here. And I won't leave you. I'll never leave you."

Terrible visions plagued her mind and she closed her eyes on the horrible pain that crept over her features. Somehow she had known those blissful moments of yesterday and the day before had been a mistake. She had been willing to take that risk with her heart to be with this man through it all, in life, death, and sacrifice, but she hadn't wanted this. She chosen the sacrifice to be her own, not his. Whether it was a painful end or the happiness they deserved, she hadn't stopped to think of what such things might do to Vash.

Here, seeing him in so much pain, she realized the scale of her grievous error by the pain and fear etched in every taught muscle, every clenched tooth, every stricken tear, every hurtful cry. Her death would cause more damage to this man then she had ever realized. Again, the everlasting question rang in her thoughts: how could so much misfortune fall into this one man's lap?

He had been without Rem for 131 years now. He had lost a man who had been his only brother just three days ago. Over the years, his life must have seemed to him to be one enormous mistake. It must have haunted him more deeply than anyone had ever been haunted. From each drop of blood, there must be a thousand souls screaming torturously in his thoughts.

By proclaiming her feelings for this man she had added yet one more obstacle he would one day have to overcome. It was yet one more problem she had dumped onto his lap. She closed her eyes tightly as a tear streaked down her face and caught itself in the sunlight before it fell from her jaw line to the hand she held weakly in her own.

I'm sorry, she thought blindly. I'm so sorry.

She wondered how Milly had been able to deal with the pain, to still go on and smile though the weight of the world had rested so squarely on her shoulders the day of Wolfwood's death. Meryl couldn't imagine life without this man, yet it came to her so bluntly that she was no more than a pawn in someone else's hateful scheme, used to hurt him in ways that were no less than cruel and unusual.

She knew without a doubt that while his would heal and he would once more gain the devil's hand, his soul was also broken and that was something not so easily repaired. Meryl doubted it could be fixed at all after the things they had gone through.

Looking up at the sun she frowned and swiveled her head to examine the desert for any clear place they could go that might not seem so readily apparent to the others. They had to get him out of this heat, out of sight before whoever had attacked him returned with reinforcements.

"We need to find cover," she said absently. Her face was void of any obvious emotion. She refused to leave Vash's side. Not unless he asked her to, not unless he needed her to. Though she was sure he wouldn't ask that of her. Not this time. Meryl shook her head. She had to get her mind off those horrible feelings stirring in her gut. The most important thing was to get Vash to safety.

Then, Meryl could plan.

Shelter came in the form of a tiny canyon no less than 50 yards to the west, something that had been invisible from their position where they had found Vash. Stryker carried their fallen comrade every inch of the way, and Meryl had carried Vash's gun. He had insisted that Milly carry his shotgun for protection; it had much more of a chance of protecting them than her stun gun if they were attacked. Milly swore to protect them all as she would protect her children.

Within the shelter of a small cave, really nothing more than a roof of stone where a low cliff hung over them within the narrow gorge, Milly tended to Vash's wounds. The legendary outlaw was awake and talking, a good sign, but he said nothing of the situation he had faced while he was alone. It worried Meryl a great deal, though she couldn't find the words to tell him so.

The evening passed them by and soon fell into night. Vash seemed less distraught by the day's events as he spoke to them, leaving none out in his moment of relief, insistent that he was okay. Meryl sat next to him, and he crushed her hand in his own, not realizing how much he was hurting her. The scars that covered his torso were bare, so Milly could more easily find the fresh injuries from the day's events.

"She's not human," he whispered, staring to the ground. She's a plant, like Knives and me. A pure born. I'm sure of it."

Milly gave Meryl a look. "A pure born?"

"It means we're in a lot of danger," Meryl said quietly.

Stryker cast her a sidelong glance. "She's not a clone," he muttered, staring into the night from the entrance of the cave.

Pure, meaning that he and Knives hadn't been unique in the world, meaning that now Vash would be pitted against brethren that didn't completely share his genetic structure, and meaning that stakes had now risen to a new level. Vash was pitted against his sister.

Vash didn't complain. He could be a compulsive whiner, but not today. This situation did not require complaint. It required action, whether he was healed or not. He could feel the presence of his enemies somewhere out there, to the north of their makeshift camp.

Stryker had decided not to make a campfire, as it would only draw outsiders toward the light and possibly lead the enemy their way. Heat was out of the question. Milly worked diligently on Vash's wounds, washing them thoroughly and using the last of Vash's liquor, which he had bought in the bar on his first night back with the former insurance girls. He didn't flinch when the alcohol touched his wounds. He felt the pain, and at any other time, he might have reacted, though the reaction would have been simply for show. It was his lone disguise to show the world he was human.

Another lie that he was forced to live. He wasn't human; he was a plant. Yet it was a lie he longed for people to believe. Rem had once said that he was more human than anyone she had ever known, and he suspected Meryl felt the same way.

"Mr. Vash, how are you feeling?" Milly asked as she bandaged the last of his wounds, being sure to dribble the last of the alcohol on the inside of the gauze as she pressed it against his flesh.

He smiled wearily. "Not too bad, actually," he lied, meeting the girl's eyes with his own. His smile widened at seeing the glow in her eyes. Maybe it wasn't such a lie after all. She always could make him feel better, even if she shared his pain.

Meryl sighed. The small cave offered little to them but a shelter away from watchful eyes. She stared out into the winding gorge, but saw nothing more than the narrow walls rising into the darkness. She thought back to the walk across the desert, following just behind Stryker as he carried Vash. She had covered the droplets of blood the fell from Vash's wounds to hide their path as best she could across the sand. She had vowed that if they were found, it would not be by the blood of the man who led this trek.

Later, when she felt his grip go lax in her hand, she moved. Rising to her feet to return to her post near the rock face. Her eyes drifted to the Fifth Moon, the only satellite fully visible between the walls of the small canyon. The vast rock seemed to be in morning, just as she was, feeling the pains that struck so hard she could scarcely bear them, like the punishing bullet holes that riddled Vash's flesh.

She leaned a hand over the cool rock's surface. Despite the chill, she had removed her cape. A single derringer waited in her boot, at the ready should danger strike. It was uncomfortable, but she refused to walk around without it. Her head drooped like a dying flower, her teeth clenched tightly against the pain and impossibility of the situation. Only two night ago there had been so much hope in her heart; now it was replaced by the relentless pain of defeat.

The cross she bore around her neck offered no solace as it once had, when she had loved the man who had given it to her, during a time that seemed so long ago. She tossed a glance back to watch Milly as she double-checked his wounds before taking a place beside him and closed her eyes for a brief but well-earned rest. Vash still looked to be in a painful peace and she turned away to hide the pained expression that caught in a glint against the moon's faded glow.

They were so different in so many ways, and yet none of that had mattered until now. It burned her deeply to think of leaving, but if she went, perhaps she could at least eliminate one problem. The cost would be high, she knew. Her life, that was so precious to the man even before he had recognized his love for her, hung in the balance. but she wouldn't go alone; she would take with her the comfort in knowing she had ended just a measure of his suffering.

There was something about this woman Vash had told them of. If she was pure, as he had said, that would mean she was very much like him. She feared that would mean he might see her as a relative somehow. This would only mean that a new obstacle lay before him, similar to the fact that she knew she was up against a man that had raised her, praised her, and sent her off into the world. She couldn't risk that for anything, not for Vash. Surely there could be some way of making such a problem nonexistent. Surely she could spare Vash's heart once more. But search as she might, she could not think of a single solution to her dilemma.

She would have to stick to the plan she had already formulated in her mind. She possessed the key to the world around her neck, which mean her father was at the very center, perhaps waiting for her to come. It sent shivers through her that signified the end was only beginning. Not the glorious ending she could only wish for, but a catastrophic, climatic collision course with the end of time itself. It was a darker night for her soul then the desert and Meryl felt herself signing the agreement she had made with the devil. It was an agreement she knew she was obligated to fulfill.

She stood there a long time, gazing to the Fifth Moon. She never said a word.

He lit up one last time as he stared to the heavens.

The night was silent, but even here, at the mouth of the cave, Stryker could hear Vash's soft breathing as though it were equivalent to the rough, complaining groan of his bike engine. Around him, the world was at peace, but in truth, chaos rained down on the whole of existence. He didn't fully understand any of this, but he was a part of it nonetheless. He was a clone, a being that never would have existed without Vash and Knives. He was dealt a crushing blow when his foster parents had been killed, though now he realized that he would never have become a part of this without their sacrifice.

It was just something that had to happen, and the thought made his heart freeze in his chest. He'd wandered across Gunsmoke for three years now, seeking to end the suffering of so many innocents. His primary target throughout those days had been the man laying behind him now, the man clinging to a hope that Stryker had once thought irrelevant. It must be so hard understanding that no matter how much love was shared, the two of them could never live a normal life together. It was an impossible dream saturated by nightmares.

Vash the Stampede was a man willing to stake his life on the philosophy that no one ever had the right to choose the fate of any other individual. Stryker had lived by the gun for three years now, taking lives when he deemed it a necessity, taking lives to protect the innocent. It had been so easy. If the danger proved to be unavoidable, all he had to do was squeeze the trigger and put it all into God's hands. Vash refused to make that choice. Maybe it's all for the better, Stryker thought, though he had yet to understand.

A pure born? Milly had asked, no doubt curious to what Vash had meant by his choice of words. Meryl's answer had been dubious and straightforward: It means we're in a lot of danger. He didn't respond, though he heard her as clear as day. He watched the darkness outside wrap around the canyon and slide ever deeper into the cave. Soon it would be impossible for the girls to see at all, though Stryker could see clearly even in the shadows of night. He'd always had great vision, and now he understood why.

He felt so sorry for them, for the pain they had endured their short years together, but that did not mean he didn't envy their friendship, as well as their relationship with the one and only Vash the Stampede. He wished he had such a caring friendship that it transcended family.

He listened to it all as the night moved on, watching the starlit sky. There was nobody out there, at least, none that he could sense, and his senses were topnotch. This night, everything was going smoothly.

He tossed the butt of his cigarette out into the night and turned away from the mouth of the cave. He saw Milly sleeping next to Vash and decided not to risk disturbing either of them. Instead, he looked to Meryl, who stood at the opposite end of the cave's entrance.

She sat there, offering a small smile when their eyes met. He moved over to her. He could see the lie in her smile, but he didn't say so out loud. Instead, he approached. "How're you holding up?" He didn't sit, not yet. He couldn't sit without an invitation, especially seeing that faraway look in her eyes.

She sighed and gestured with her head for him to join her, and he accepted the invitation without a word. Together they sat in the darkness, gazing up to the Fifth Moon. Finally, she spoke, her voice as distant as the look in her eyes. "I'm not sure that's the question I should be answering," she said. "I'm more worried about him then anything else. I don't want to lose him again."

"I understand."

"I don't know that you do, but I'm glad you're with us all the same." She smiled, touching his shoulder. "Without you, he would be dead. Thank you. I'll never forget that."

He worried for them all, because he was beginning to understand the danger these people were in. He remembered the bounty hunter from before who had made an attempt on Vash's life. The man who had scampered away with his tail between his legs. Stryker wondered how many people had actually turned tail that quickly from Vash the Stampede. From the rumors he'd heard, the answer was simply "a lot."

"Of course I worry for him," he said, picking at the dirt with his boot. "It's just that you're the one awake right now."

She had to smile, shaking her head.

They fell silent, staring out over the shadows of the night. Stryker was only all too eager to watch over them as though they were family, especially with Vash in that dreadful condition. He knew Vash would come out of it all right in the end; he had whenever he had sustained all the injuries in his own life. Originally, he had thought it to be no more than luck, but now he was certain that life meant for him to continue on.

Maybe he was predestined to find them and bring them hope. It didn't really matter, so long as they had each other. Stryker would be with them until the end, a bodyguard in their hour of need.

He reached over and grabbed her hand. "He'll survive Meryl. You know that. He'll be just find in the morning and we can continue on our way." He gauged her and smiled. "You just have to trust in yourself, that's all."

Meryl looked down at his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before she let it fall and pulled herself away from him, peering back out into the desert. "You're wrong, Sean. He'll wake up tomorrow and physically, he'll be just fine, ready to go sign his life away for the simple sake of saving the very people who hate him and bruise him. And why? It won't change anything. It never really has. He'll still be the bad-guy in the end."

She wiped the tears from her eyes. Stryker slunk away, stricken by her words.

"Physically he'll be the same old Vash, but in the real ways that truly matter, he'll be broken. He's broken in his heart and spirit, and it feels me with shame. He doesn't deserve any of it, but he bears their sins as if he loves them when in truth none of them give a shit about him." She paused, letting a tear trickle down her cheeks to the sand and into her lap. "It pains him in ways I'll never be able to understand. His biggest fear is that letting the people of this world die and he can't do anything about it. Every bullet he fires is a bullet that wounds him; every flame of life and he dies a little inside. All Milly and I can do is follow him and comfort him as best we can. Should something happen, it's just another nail in his already sealed coffin. Don't you see, Sean? Nothing about this miserable existence is simple."

Stryker lowered his eyes, clinging to her every word, seeing the truth in everything she had to say. He saw through the shell where she hid her soul, sensing the grief that shattered her heart into a thousand shards. "He means more to you then I could ever know," he said quietly.

She nodded. "He means more to me then I'll ever understand."

He sighed. "Aren't you a little cold?"

"I'll be alright."

"Meryl, I'm sorry."

She nodded. "I think I'm going to go get some sleep."