Work Text:
The rumors flew
But nobody knew how much he blamed himself
for years and years
Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss
The sun had started its descent when Vash felt himself being dragged out of yet another bar. People were yelling at him, but this was nothing new. The same endless cycle as he tried to find the bottom of the bottle he currently held to him. This time, however, was different. More men came out, shouting profanities and lies. He’d never be drunk enough to touch another, never be drunk enough to erase a crooked smirk from his eyes. He slowly dragged himself to his feet as they screamed, but the more they shouted, the less he cared.
Nights were long, days were unbearable. All he wanted was to sleep. Sleep, drink, forget. He had left everyone behind with a smile, yet the words of a man who could no longer speak echoed in his mind as he did so. My smiles…. heh, whatever they may have been, I don’t think I can muster nice ones anymore…. He could hear gunshots, but he didn’t care, holding a full bottle to his chest. He felt heat in his chest, but whether it was because of the whisky or a bullet, he couldn’t tell and no longer cared.
Oh, he had tried to keep living; his brother saved his life after all. But Vash felt it just delayed the inevitable. He kept trying to hold on to hope, to warmth and the small bits of happiness around him, but it wasn’t the same. He continued his staggering steps, the ghost of a man he had once cherished dogging his every heavy step.
As the sun fell and darkness began to creep into the sky, Vash could make it out. A solitary cross standing amidst the sand and rocks, the wrapping flapping in a gentle breeze that brought with it the chill of day’s end. Vash felt his legs aching and starting to tremble, his vision blurring with unshed tears and loss of focus. “H-hey Wolfwood…. sorry I’m late….” His eyes turned down towards the ground as he finally felt the burn of the gunshot wound in his chest. “Heh…seems they finally got me. Wonder when it happened exactly?”
Vash let out a weak, self-deprecating chuckle. “Not that it really hurts. Nothing compares to….t-to…..” He shook his head and gave the cross a watery smile. “I-I managed to snatch a bottle of Bride! You know, they’ve been considering discontinuing it. I know you like it because…. we shared it back….back then…” Vash gripped the bottle tightly and threw his head back, drinking from the bottle and stared at it with glazed eyes, unwilling to look at the Punisher, turning away from it. “Yanno….no matter how much I drink this stuff, it never tastes better? Like thomas piss- don’t ask how I know what that tastes like.” Vash scowled at the bottle and then tossed it, aiming his gun and firing at it. It exploded when the bullet struck its mark.
‘Yer wastin’ good shit yanno, needle-noggin?’
“Stop…. you’re not even here…” Something about the voice in his head caused something to curdle in his stomach and he spun around, glaring at the cross. “You’re not even here to tell me off. You’re not even here to yell at me, make fun of me…. not even here to smell like smoke and that piss swill!” Vash pointed his gun at the cross and began to scream. “YOU’RE. NOT. HERE!!!!!” Four shots later his shoulders were heaving, blood pooling further from his injury, though if it was from his injury or his shattered heart he couldn’t tell anymore. “YOU’RE NOT HERE! YOU’RE NOT! YOU LEFT TO DO THINGS ALL ON YOUR OWN AND WOULDN’T EVEN LET ME HELP! WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE PARTNERS! WE WERE SUPPOSED TO LOOK OUT FOR ONE ANOTHER AND THEN YOU…. you….you left….” Vash collapsed to his knees; gun still aimed at the cross. “I…I killed for you, you know? I…. I took a life to save him….to save Livio. But you…. you weren’t there….”
Vash pulled out a rosary, one that he could remember Wolfwood leaving behind once. “I…I wanted to give this back, yanno. It was…our last night together. We simply laid there, holding one another. Sometimes I close my eyes, and I still feel you. Your lips to the back of my neck, your arms embracing me, holding me as if I was…. was precious. Worth cherishing. Worth…..worth….loving.” He choked on the last word and the tears fell harder.
“Ya were always worth lovin’ Spikey.”
“No…not like how you loved me. You loved me like…. like a human. Loved me as if I wasn’t the reason for everyone’s downfall…as if I wasn’t the reason you died.” Vash slowly laid down, head against the Punisher and rosary to his lips. “Forgive me, Wolfwood, for my gravest sin of all was making you love me. For so many mornings and nights I didn’t know you, but then you came and shattered everything. Then just like smoke from one of your cigarettes you were gone, and it was me that allowed your life to be snuffeds out in the end. My punishment…was a life without you. Sunrises and sunsets that never ended this torment. Though the world’s changing ever so slowly…I remain. I…I just want….to…..” He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footsteps approached the slumbering figure, a sigh escaping the figure and smoke curling around him. “Jesus Spikey. Ya at least coulda used yer coat as a pillow, yeah?” Blue eyes snapped open and turned to the figure. “Long time no see, Vash.” Vash’s mouth opened and closed like a fish seeking air and the figure smiled.
“W…..Wolf…wood?” The broad-shouldered man smirked and lifted his sunglasses up, his dark eyes almost twinkling with amusement. “But…. no. This isn’t possible. You…. you died.” Wolfwood raised an eyebrow at him. “No, this is just a dream, a cruel, twisted dream from my inebriated mind.” Vash stood up abruptly, taking a few staggered steps back. “You’re not real. You can’t be real! You-” A sigh slipped past the false priest’s lips and before Vash could react those same lips were on his. Warmth spread through his entire body, the scent of smoke and gunpowder filling him up. He felt like a starved man sitting at a feast and no amount of kisses and touches would ever be enough to fill him ever again. Once they finally broke the kiss, Wolfwood frowned.
“Angel.” Vash whimpered, a name spoken in soft caresses that he’d believed he’d never hear again, brushed against his lips. “Why won’t ya open yer eyes?”
“I don’t want this dream to end. Wolfwood please, don’t make me wake up. Don’t fade away like morning mist. I don’t think my heart can handle it anymore.” Wolfwood sighed and cupped Vash’s face in his calloused hands, rubbing tears from his cheeks with his thumb. “Are….are you really here? Are you here to stay?”
“…..C’mon Vash. Did ya think I’d leave ya behind?” Vash opened his eyes and the man he loved with all he had left smiled at him. “Come with me Angel. Let’s meet our tomorrows together.” As Wolfwood stretched out his hand, Vash slid his own into it, the warmth and love he felt making him feel light. “No need ta weep anymore. Let’s continue our journey, ok?” Vash finally, after so long, gave his lover a true smile.
“Y-yes Wolfwood, let’s.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey! Dummy, why ya over ‘ere, eh?”
“Mm? Oh, I finished all the chores that Miss Melli wanted us to finish!”
“Dolt!”
“Owww, why’d you hit me so hard!!!”
“Melli and the others were lookin’ for your dumb ass!”
“Hey! You shouldn’t cuss at a grave like that!”
“Tsk, whatever, dolt.” A sigh. “Don’t get all teary eyed now, ok?” The two small sets of eyes turned to the grave. “Back ‘ere again, eh?”
“Yeah…just every time I see it, I feel sad. But then you show up and that sadness seems to go away a little. I wonder why.”
“Probably cause ur an idiot.” The boy received another pout. “Yanno, I was kinda reminded of a song that told the story of this old grave.” Both boys sat down in front of it. A massive, weeping willow tree hovered above them, an old, rusted metal cross coiled in its bark and roots. “They say two lovers are buried ‘ere.”
“I heard that one! I think it’s true though.”
“Nicholas! Vash! Get you little butts back here or so help me your hides will be made into thomas shoes!” Both boys ran back to their caretaker, a song whispering in the wind.
They laid him next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang
A whiskey lullaby