Opening his eyes, Vash realized he ached all over. Slowly his eyes rolled over to the Priest's. Wolfwood looked unconscious, his lids were drawn shut and a strand of drool was escaping out the side of his open mouth.

Vash pushed himself off Wolfwood's crushed middle and scanned the area. The bags had been scattered everywhere, some were upside down and one had split open at the top, leaving Wolfwood's objects displayed across the hot sand. What was most ominous of the scene was not the broken bag, but the large cross that had landed up right in the sand just above their heads… the gunman didn't even dare look to see where the bike had landed.

After standing up, Vash brushed the dust off his red coat. Specks of it landed on Wolfwood's face, making his skin twitch.

On a positive note, they definitely wouldn't be running into anymore cliffs or sand dunes for a long time. The surrounding land was flatter than a pancake, but Vash could make out a tiny black blob in the distance.

"NEEDLE NOGGIN!"

The words were fierce and powerful.

Vash whirled around and realized the Priest was no longer unconscious on the ground but staring at the dirt a good distance away with his hands gripping his scalp. Immediately Vash shrunk in stature as he spotted the mangle heap of metal just feet away from the Priest. Like a dog convicted of trouble, Vash slowly made his way to Wolfwood, leaving a long trail of shuffling footprints in the sand.

Wolfwood turned to face Vash as the gunman approached. His face was contorted into a death-chilling expression, complete with mad eyes and baring teeth.

Vash tensed up, ready for an attack.

"You killed my baby!" Wolfwood barked. "How the heck are we supposed to get there now?"

"Are you sure?" Vash asked, delaying another attack. He shuffled to the heaping metal. If the bike was twisted before, it was definitely mangled now. The motorcycle was bent in ways even he knew was against its anatomy. "She might still make it," Vash said. "Look, if we just try to untangle her a bit…"

Wolfwood leaned over the bike with the outlaw.

"…and if we can patch up the wheels," Vash designated the area with touch of his foot and immediately a loud disturbing noise sounded, followed by a flaming explosion that knocked not only him, but the Priest down as well. Vash found himself with a face full of hot sand and could hear the crackling of the burning bike. Before he knew it a large mass was on top of him attacking him.

"You stupid outlaw!" Wolfwood yelled, yanking Vash's arm out of the socket. A pop sounded, and the Priest turned to pulling Vash's hair out of his scalp. "I told you not to come with me! You've killed her! Do you have any idea how long it took for me to get that baby! With the orphanage to pay for and- and- and YOU to put up with!"

"Mercy! Mercy!" Vash cried, struggling to free himself from the Priest's tackled grasp.

Wolfwood succeeded in pulling out a chunk of hair, and griped onto another patch.

"Help me! Someone help me! The Priest is murdering me!" Vash screamed louder. Finally he found the perfect moment and freed himself, crawling away at high speeds until he was smashed to the ground again.

They rolled around in the dirt like animals, so similar Wolfwood actually resorted to biting Vash's hand for the second time. Sand flew in the air and their faces.

"I'm gonna kill you, Spikey!" Wolfwood raged, pinning the outlaw against the dirt, breathing hard.

For a moment all Vash felt was a large amount of fear, but then suddenly his feet grew extra warm. They started sweating as the heat intensified.

"…and then when I'm done pulling out all your hair, I'm going to strap you to a Sandsteamer…"

"FIRE! FIRE!" Vash screamed.

Wolfwood heard the crackling behind them and his evil expression fell limp. At lightning-speed, he jerked his head and saw the soles of Vash's boots melting, and just at that moment his pants caught flame.

"FIRE! FIRE!" The Priest cried, and began scrambling off Vash, taking care to knee him in the mouth.

In a panic, both of them scurried away, Wolfwood flailing his legs madly, making the fire intensify. He could feel the heat burning his skin as it devoured the fabric.

"HELP!" Wolfwood yelled, tossing sand onto the burning pant leg.

Vash scrambled to their supplies scattered across the sand. Eyes wide, he retrieved a canteen and ran back to the Priest. He was about to poor the liquid onto Wolfwood's burning pants, when the Priest screamed louder in horror.

"GET AWAY FROM ME! THAT'S FUEL YOU IDIOT!"

Vash quickly threw the canteen, and evidently it landed by the burning bike with a small explosion. But the outlaw didn't have time to acknowledge it he had just found the bottle full of water and rushed back to the Priest. This time he turned the container upside and let all its contents flush out onto Wolfwood's pants.

The fire was eradicated, leaving little more than a wisp of smoke.

Both of them struggled to catch their breath. Vash stared at Wolfwood's leg. The fire was unable to devour the entire piece of clothing, but his leg was exposed from the middle of his shin down- even his shoes had been bitten into by the flame. A large portion of the Priest's leg was burning red and hairless.

"You almost poured gasoline on me!" Wolfwood confronted once his breath was nearly normal.

"On accident! But I didn't, did I?"

"Humph."

Wolfwood got to his feet, Vash followed his actions.

"Now I can't even give her a proper burial, thanks to you."

"Hey, I just saved your life!" Vash growled.

Wolfwood ignored Vash as he wiped sweat from his forehead. He watched the fire burn in angered silence. Everything on the bike would be useless- they couldn't even use the fuel. He then turned and looked out over the desert. The flat vast area didn't lighten his spirits. His hand moved into his pocket for a cigarette, but found nothing but a large hole.

"Curse you!" He turned on Vash. "My cigarettes are gone!"

"You almost burned to death and now you want to light a cigarette?"

"I wouldn't have almost burned to death if you hadn't exploded my motorcycle!"

"It was going to explode anyway!"

"Outlaws…" He grumbled and cast a sideways glance at Vash. "How come you didn't catch on fire?"

"My attire isn't flammable, it just melts," Vash answer matter-of-factly.

Wolfwood looked over Vash's boots and red coat. True enough; the red fabric was welded into the boots like crimson liquid frozen in place. His boots looked waxy and the buckle was dangling by a black glob.

"Glad I don't have to try and get myself out of that mess."

Vash was tired of standing and arguing idly with the Priest. He completely saved the man's life, whether or not the Priest wanted to admit it. Quietly, Vash began to gather up the bags and belongings. He wasn't going to just wait here in the burning heat, he had a reunion to get to- a reunion he promised an insurance girl he would be at. Admittedly, he had had worse than a few explosions and sand dunes.

Finally, he plopped the last bag at the cross where he had made a large pile. Somehow they needed to get across this desert, and preferably whole.

"Spikey, we can't carry all this." Wolfwood pointed out, extending his index finger toward the bunch. "You're going to have to leave some of your stuff behind."

"Okay, then let's go through and take out what we don't absolutely need," the outlaw suggested, and unzipped a dark green bag.

"Woah, woah, woah, hold up Spikey, that's my bag."

Vash reluctantly handed the luggage to the Priest. "Then you can go through it."

"I'm keeping my stuff. I've worked hard for it. You killed my motorcycle- you're the one who should be dumping stuff."

Vash glared. "That's not fair, I'll get stuck carrying half of your stuff." He pointed out.

"It's perfectly fair!"

"How so?"

"You're an outlaw, and I'm a priest." Wolfwood said, and poked out his chest with pride.

"Very observant."

"Well, a man like me clearly needs all his belongings, they're holy." Wolfwood explained.

"My, so saintly," Vash said with a dash of sarcasm.

Knowing an argument would get them no where, Vash began to dispose a lot of his items (and a few of the Priest's when he could grasp the chance, including an extra pack of cigarettes hidden in an inside pocket). He pushed the items he could part with in a small hole he had dug. He stared a fast goodbye to his razor, hair gel and other belongings, and then pushed hot white sand over the top. Whoever had first abused the motorcycle, Vash wanted them far away from their trail if he could help it.

Both he and the Priest slung and grabbed the bags. Vash made sure the Priest was the one who had to be stuck with the threatening cross. Then slowly they began to walk across the perpetual desert with the beating suns on their faces. Wolfwood felt the sweat drip down his face near his temples. A part of him was slightly relieved that his pants had turned into shorts, and he willingly took off his jacket, hanging it up on the cross.

"Spikey, I need some water, I'm dying," Wolfwood said. The motions of his tongue brought a realization that his mouth felt like sand paper.

"I thought you had the water." Vash blinked.

"Me? No… I've never had it."

"Well, I don't have it."

Suddenly an earlier memory stabbed sadistically at their minds. Vash had dumped all their water on Wolfwood's burning pants. Silence spread over them as they both remembered the scene.

"Spiiiikeeey!" Wolfwood growled.

"You were on fire!" Vash reminded. "What was I supposed to do? Let it burn up your leg and continue to your shir-"

"Enough!" Wolfwood answered, wishing to hear as little as possible of what might have happened had the fire continued. "So we're going to dehydrate out here?"

"We do have that soup- I think most of it is made of water. I know I have that." Vash stopped walking and stirred through his bag. "Aha!" He exposed the can to the light which reflected off of the tin and continued straight into Wolfwood's eyes. "And…" Vash rummaged some more. "We also have the can opener." He handed the tool to the Priest.

Resisting the urge to curse again, Wolfwood opened the can as they continued walking. Even he, a priest, had little faith they would make it across this desert.

As the Suns began to disappear over the horizon, Vash wasn't the only one disappointed with the distance they had made. The cliff they had fallen off was far from invisible- in fact he thought he could still see a slight glow over a hunk of metal. This journey was going to be a long one.

"It's almost dark and we haven't gotten anywhere!" Wolfwood growled in irritation. He let the luggage tumble out of his hands into the dirt, but the cross he removed with some reverence. "It will have to be an early start tomorrow. We can beat heat and time."

Vash put down his bags as Wolfwood lit the lantern with his lighter. Like the night before, they quickly set out their sleeping bags and made do with a canned cold meal. Since Wolfwood had decided on an early start the next day, Vash tried to quickly fall into a deep slumber, but the Priest was wide awake staring up at the stars.

"She was a really good motorcycle," he broke the silence. "I saved up for her for months- almost a year even. My other one was just old. She did a good job even though her life was short, didn't she Spikey?"

"Uh-huh," Vash said, half listening.

The stars twinkled down on the Priest. "I hope she's in Eden. I bet there are a ton of other motorcycles for her to be with there, and an endless amount of fuel. She'll be taken better care of there- this desert climate never suited her."

"Eden… do you really think there is such a place?" Vash asked. Apparently Eden was only word that had registered to his brain.

"Somewhere, but it's definitely not here. Good night, Vash." Wolfwood said, and blew out the lantern.

When Vash finally drifted off to sleep, he had a terrible dream about a motorcycle trying to run him over for revenge. Just when he thought he was done for, he was somehow transported into a beautiful place much like the rec room he used to visit with Rem. The surrounding area was bursting with green and life. Butterflies flew across the area and clouds were drifting through the blue sky. Then he saw the woman he missed so dearly- Rem was standing on a grass hill waiting for him, her hair whipping in the wind. Vash ran out to her.

"Rem," he greeted.

"Vash… you must take care of Knives, he is lost."

"How?" Vash asked desperately. "How can I convince him?"

"You must help him, Vash; you must never give up on him. Even his ticket to the future is blank. Ever since he was born, his ticket has been cursed." Rem's voice suddenly changed, it became deeper and rougher, more masculine. "That's right you're cursed! Now wake up you Needle Noggin!"

Odd…Vash thought. Her voice sounded nothing like her usual tone, yet extremely familiar. "Rem, are you alright?" Vash inquired.

"What? Wake up you- Gr! VASH!"

Rem grasped Vash tightly on the shoulders and shook him. He looked back into her irritated face until it distorted into a man's full of hushed intensity. Vash blinked his eyes, no longer was there sunshine but cold darkness.

"Wolfwood?" Vash asked.

"Of course! Who did you think it was? Who's Rem anyway? An ex-girlfriend?"

"No!" Vash shot back quickly. He could barely see the outline of Wolfwood's skeptical look. "Nevermind, what is it?"

"Sh! Not so loud. They're here."

"Who's here?" Vash asked, lowering his voice.

"Those people who wrecked my motorcycle. Sh! Can you hear them? I think they're getting into our stuff! Those filthy pigs!"

Vash listened. Wolfwood was right about something, someone was definitely nearby. He could hear the individual's breathing and movement. The outlaw stiffened and his skin prickled.

"What should we do?" Vash whispered.

"Drive them away- attack them!" Wolfwood demanded, looking very livid.

"Are you mad? Don't you remember all those footprints in the sand? The people who damaged your motorcycle weren't few in numbers, and I'm not talking about five or six, there must be at least ten of them." Vash reminded.

"But they completely destroyed her. Vash, I don't think I can live with myself knowing that the villain was in my hands and I just let them walk away to ruin more bikes- I'm going after them!"

And before Vash could utter another syllable of discouragement, Wolfwood had disappeared from view. Quietly, Vash sat up peering through the darkness. He spotted the trespasser rummaging through Wolfwood's dark green bag, and the Priest creeping forward towards him, his curved back outlined under the moons' glare. A part of Vash began to wonder if the intruder had brought anymore donuts, and secretly hoped he could get to it before Wolfwood demolished it like the last. And that's when Vash spotted it. The intruder had not come alone. Looking beyond, the outlaw caught a glimpse of other large dark masses in the distance keeping a kind of outlook. At once Vash snuck out of his sleeping bag, trying desperately to catch up with the Priest without too much noise.

"Wolfwood," he whispered out, making his way closer to him by crawling in the sand on his elbows. "Stop!"

Irritated, the Priest brought his index finger to his mouth, warning Vash to be quiet. Then he returned his gaze to the hunched mass.

"Wolfwood, look!" Vash said hastily. He sped up and finally caught up to Wolfwood, grasping his arm and pointing to the distant figures. "He's not alone, he has a whole gang- they must be bandits. They probably have a place in this area and just take advantage of travelers."

"Well, they're not taking advantage of us!" Wolfwood whispered fiercely. "They're going to regret ever touching that bike!" He wiggled his way free of Vash and continued closer at a quicker pace. When he was near enough to attack, Vash realized the Priest had no weapon- all his guns were locked inside that cross of his. Yet this truth did not stop the Priest, he drew back his empty dinner tin can and hurled it at the closest person with a sharp war cry.

Vash watched the can hit the person in what he thought was square in the back (for the darkness made it unclear to tell), and he held his breath.

The intruder let out a piercing cry that reached the rest of his gang, and like the noise was some secret code, all of them began running.

"Hey, I'm not done with you yet!" Wolfwood bellowed.

But they didn't heed his words. All of them were making a mad dash away. Vash rushed over to Wolfwood, who was showing signs of considering a chase.

"We have to go after them," Wolfwood told Vash. "Come on!" The Priest rushed forward, but Vash grabbed his arm.

"Wolfwood, it's so dark, we can hardly see. We'll get lost if we don't keep walking straight! And they probably know this whole desert like the back of their hand!"

"Grrr, I bet they do!" He answered with disgust. "How dare they take and ruin our stuff? I can't let them get away with this!"

Reluctantly, Vash said, "We'll worry about it in the morning- when we have more light." And hopefully, he added in his head, Wolfwood would be a little saner when he had had some more sleep. The gunman pulled the Priest back to his sleeping bag. "Just get some sleep."

With a yawn, Wolfwood did little to resist this idea, he was still very tired. Slowly he entangled himself in the warm comfort of the bag. Vash did the same in his, and with a sigh tried to fall back asleep.

"We'll go after them in the morning," Wolfwood said, before letting sleep take over him.

Vash agreed silently.

Author's note: This chapter was much longer, it was becoming so long I had to split it into two. So, it should be an even shorter wait for the next one, considering I have almost half of it done. Thanks for reading and reviewing!