Chapter Text
The wallpaper needed to be replaced.
It was stained, a little ripped up, peeling here and there in the corners. Ugly as sin, too. With its faded yellow and what had to have once been little pink flowers that too had faded away to mostly unrecognizable blotches.
This was not the first time that Wolfwood had noticed the atrocious state of the walls here, or the way that some spots in the kitchen floor had somehow managed to become water damaged out in a little house outside the limits of a town that barely had enough water running to fill the janky pipes.
It was just that the wallpaper was the most interesting thing he could stare off at in his mostly futile attempts to ignore the waves of stress that Vash was currently dumping all over the room.
Tearing his eyes away from a splotch on the wall that almost kind-of looked like a bird if you squinted and turned your head, he glanced back over at Vash to take stock of the current situation.
Pacing.
Because what this place needs most is a hole worn into the floor, and what Vash needs most is a broken nose when he inevitably trips on the warped wood and falls flat on his dumbass face.
“Come on, Vash.” Livio spoke up, shooting a glance over at Wolfwood that was probably meant to ask for help. “Settle down, nothing bad’s gonna happen, you know that.”
Vash faltered in the back-and-forth he’d been keeping up for the past god knows how long now.
Neither Livio nor Wolfwood had needed to ask when Vash had come back in from his morning practice, skipped right over breakfast, and went straight into whatever physical chores that needed to be done. Everything that his overly extensive routine consisted of and their work for the day was done before even ten in the morning, and Vash still had nervous energy to spare.
The same flavor of nightmare who knows how many nights in a row now.
At the very least he could at least be glad that Vash was at long, long last talking about whatever the fuck it was at any given point in time that happened to be setting him off.
This one should have been easy to deal with. It was a better one than the dreams about July. At least, it seemed that way at first. Better than those, better than the ones about the Fall, better than the ones that left Vash alone listening to dust settle and church bells ring and ragged breaths that came to a sudden halt with no one around to help him bury a body that he couldn’t go on without.
After all, in this one all that happened was the sprout of wings and feathers and big sharp teeth. So he’d scared some people a few years ago. This planet moved on fast. It just wasn’t on anyone's mind this far down the road from it. Meryl wasn’t afraid of him, not anymore, hadn’t been in a long, long time.
It’d been a long damn time since Wolfwood had been uneasy around him, too.
Not a single person that actually mattered would ever be scared of him again. He knew how to control his Angel Arm. What were a mass of feathers and some glowy lights in the face of that?
“No,” Vash said, predictable as always as his eyes dropped to the floor. “I don’t know that. I didn’t want to do it before, I don’t know how I did it - it just happened. So-” Wolfwood tuned it out to the best of his ability, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. I’m dangerous. Vash would claim in several more words than he needed to use. I shouldn’t be here. It’s a risk. I should just leave. God forbid anyone make that same claim of Knives, though. He was dangerous. Vash knew it. But he was “trying” so what did it matter?
Fuck off.
Though, actually… “If you’re so scared of looking like you’ve been tarred and feathered,” Wolfwood cut in through Vash’s guilt trip of things-that-had-not-yet-happened-and-probably-would-not, “why haven’t you just learned how to control it?”
Livio looked away from them both, doing his best to try to blend into that hideous wallpaper as if it’d save him from whatever bitch fit that might just break out between the two of them.
Vash blanked at him. “How am I meant to do that?” His arms were crossed tight over his ribs, the fingers of his metal hand digging in hard to his skin. He was halfway into a spiral - but if nothing else Wolfwood’s suggestion had been enough to halt it for now.
“I don’t fuckin’ know.” Wolfwood shrugged. “Ask Knives-”
“No.”
“-or just try? Let ‘em loose and figure it out from there.”
“Let them- WOLFWOOD!” He echoed those first two words quietly, and then he looked mad. Good, mad was good. Mad was better than guilty and mopey. “What kind of suggestion - you know what could happen if I just ‘let go.’ I could hurt someone! I could-”
“Figure this shit out and stop worrying and being a pain in my ass about it?”
“It might not be a bad idea.” Livio decided to be brave and back him up. “It’s not like it’d be anything like your Angel Arm, right? What’s the worst that could happen, realistically? If you’re a good way away from anyone you wouldn’t end up sharing memories or what have you with anyone.”
“I don’t…” Vash started, trailed off, and let his arms go back to his sides. “The point is that I don’t know what the worst case is, you get that right?”
“Only one way to find out.” Wolfwood said.
“No.” Vash said, standing his ground and trying his best to make it sound final.
“Okay, fine.” Wolfwood relaxed, leaning back into his chair until it made a warning creak. Not a single damn thing in here that didn’t need replacing. “If you don’t know what could happen, ask Knives. He probably knows, after all he’s the one that-”
“I’m not asking Knives!” Vash raised his voice, and then immediately dropped it back down to a mutter when there was a creak from upstairs. If Knives was waking up the last thing he wanted was for him to join in. “He’d get all smug about it.”
Quiet for the first time all morning save for the gears turning in Vash’s head.
Wolfwood knew surrender was coming. At this point he might as well be able to count it down. Three… Two…
“Fine.” Vash slumped into one of the empty chairs. “But I’m not doing any experimenting anywhere near here or near town. And if something goes wrong - it’s your fault.”
Wolfwood stared at the finger that's been shoved in his face as if it or the statement it was meant to reinforce was actually any sort of a threat.
Nothing would go wrong.
And he’d take the blame, that wasn’t an issue. No matter what Vash said now the issue in assigning responsibility and blame would be in getting the little shit to let go of it for anyone else to take instead of keeping it to himself to add to his giant dragons’ hoard of the stuff.
“Fine by me.” Wolfwood raised up a hand to smack Vash’s away. “You ready?”
Vash blinked his big owl eyes at him. “Now? But the suns are-”
“I don’t exactly burn easy," He had the long-lasting effects of his vials to thank for that, "and if you even can it’d be news to me. We’ll take water, it’s not a problem. So… Now?”
Vash let out a long, slow breath that sounded like it had emptied out every last little bit of air he’d had in his lungs, and finally agreed.
“Now!” Wolfwood called out from where he stood leaning back against his bike to where Vash stood several yars away on the flattest bit of sand around.
The new orphanage and the tiny little collection of houses that made up their village was barely a smudge on the horizon, and with any other nearby towns and settlements on the other extreme it meant the odds of any travelers passing this way was slim to nothing.
Perfect place for an overgrown toma chick to learn to fly.
Or something like that.
Wolfwood waited.
Vash stood still.
Nothing happened.
They waited a little more.
The suns moved overhead, the double shadows of the dunes and the stones jutting out from the sand grew just a little bit longer.
Wolfwood made himself comfortable on the ground, and when Vash was standing still and doing… whatever that was meant to be with his arms got boring, he found a little sand worm wiggling its way just under the surface of the ground to watch.
Sadly, worm trails were not exactly the most riveting things. “Hey, Blondie!” Vash’s head snapped back towards him. “What’s the holdup?”
“I don’t know how to do it on command!” Vash yelled back, frustration cutting his temper down short.
Wolfwood waited. The sky had gone all orange and pink.
He’d missed lunch.
This idea wasn’t fun anymore.
Vash slouched down on the ground, head held up in his palm.
“Give up?” Wolfwood shouted.
“No!” Vash groaned and fell flat on his back. “I’m not going back until something gives.”
Cool. Fun. Good. If Vash stayed out all night then it’d be up to Wolfwood to either drag him back home or to stick it out with him. Going home alone would serve to do nothing but earn him dirty and/or disapproving looks.
Besides, even if he left his own conscience would only allow him to get halfway home at best.
Not that he’d admit that to anyone but himself.
“Just let gooo~.” Wolfwood groaned as he let his head fall back against his bike, ignoring the thud of his skull against the metal.
“You want me to let go?” Vash shot back up, pushing back up on tired legs. “Fine, fine! I’ll let go. We’ll just hope for the best!”
With that, he really did just let go, popping the lid off of the plant-y, feather-y, jar that held powers that refused to allow him to only crack open enough to peer into and hope to understand.
And, as it would turn out, just letting go was not exactly the best idea that Wolfwood ever had.
It wasn’t bad at first.
Two great, big wings spread out on either side of Vash - a span great enough to lift him from the ground if he so wished for it.
But they did not stop there.
Small feathers sprouted from his cheekbones and spread down his jawline, peppering the space under his eyes and around his brows.
Long feathers unattached to any wings pushed out from his collar and coat sleeves.
Then came the other wings.
The rest of it burst forth in a single instant, too fast for Wolfwood to track, too fast for him to prepare for.
Wings spread out, feathers branch and grow in every possible direction, spreading out over the sand like roots traveling through the earth.
They split out of the ground, brushing against Wolfwood’s skin, wrapping tightly around his exposed wrist, tight around his pants leg.
With that first, gentle contact of root and feather adrenaline hits like a drug, spreading cold through his veins like a contrast dye.
Each nerve, every single impulse firing through his mind ordering him to get up, to run, to fight, to do something-
He sees nothing but feathers. He can see Vash through them all, fighting and losing to gain back control.
He’s looking at himself through unsteady eyes, struck dumb on his ass in the sand.
He feels the tendrils of Vash’s presence dig into his brain, searching and sorting through memories, through emotion, through thought by no conscious action on either part. Vash feels the terror coursing through Wolfwood’s body and mind, and it compounds into his own, spiking up higher and higher with a sound like a siren, pitching up until it’s all that can be heard - until it is only on the barest edges of his awareness.
This is exactly what he was afraid of.
This is exactly what he wanted to prevent.
Wolfwood feels Vash’s thoughts more than he hears them. There’s something else, something hidden deeply away beneath everything else, but the closer he gets to seeing what it is, panic mounts one last time, and then vanishes completely.
Alone in his mind once more, he watches as everything that had burst forth out of Vash draws back, dissipating from view. Heart beating faster than what has to be safe and normal, breathing hard, each exhale shuddering out, fingers dug deep into the sand, grit stuck under his nails.
He can’t see any wings, no feathers, no roots, no lights.
Just a cloud of dirt and dust.
Gradually, the cloud of sand settles, much of it coming to rest where it had been before, and the light wind blowing away what remained.
In its place where Vash had stood, there was only empty space.
Wolfwood is left speechless, looking but not comprehending the sight before him.
Vash was gone.
The only proof to be found that he had been there at all were the clothes left on the sand. His red coat splayed out and nearly empty. Boots left upturned on the ground, prosthetic filling one sleeve while the other moved in time with the bullet hole-ridden coattails in the breeze.
Terror rendered him mute.
Panic ran through his limbs.
Wolfwood knew what happens to Plants when they die. He knows that they don't leave behind remains of any sort - save for the energy collected if a last run is forced.
He rose onto shaky legs. Waiting, watching, hoping for something to happen that made all this make sense-
Vash couldn't have died. After everything he'd survived, something like this wouldn't have been enough to take him out for good.
It couldn't. It just couldn't-
The desert was silent, a single monotone ring the only thing Wolfwood could hear as he slowly forced his legs to carry him closer.
If this was his own fault - why did he have to suggest this? He's encouraged the idea, convinced Vash to follow through with it - why did he force Vash to do something that scared him so badly - something that had torn every last scrap of power from his body-
Arriving before the coat that lay still on the ground, he finally noticed what was out of place.
There was a big lump left smack in the center of the torso. It shifted, moving side to side - then went still.
It then sneezed. The entire lump jolting with the sound, Wolfwood jumping just as it did, his nerves frayed and left on edge-
Shaking it off, the lump kept moving, shuffling further down the coat and sending Wolfwood scrambling backwards until it finally poked out between two of the shredded tails.
It looked at Wolfwood.
Wolfwood looked right back.
He had no words to speak.
It was a giant mass of golden feathers. More wings than any living being needed to have, poking out from several different parts, consisting of different sizes and shapes, all moving together in a way that was almost repulsive.
And in the center of the front of the lump was a little face, partly hidden under a handful of feathers that fell in front of it.
The creature shook, and they fell away.
Two beady little eyes blink up at him, a tiny little mouth pulled into a tiny little upside down v of a frown. “Spikey?” Wolfwood asks, voice scarcely audible to even himself. It had to be Vash - there was no other option. But all the same, “That you?”
The creature, for lack of a better word, screeches in response. “VA!”
Wolfwood stares.
The creature stares back.
“Can you talk?”
“Va!” It yells again, thankfully pitched much lower this time.
Okay, so. To summarize what Wolfwood now knows:
- Vash is now what appears to be a Thomas chick dunked in radioactive waste.
- He does not seem to be capable of human speech.
- He is probably okay?
Vash takes a good look at himself, stretching his neck (is that his neck? Does he even have a neck under all that mess?) around to peer at his sides and back. He twitches a pair of the wings that protrude from his sides, and that little head snaps back to look at Wolfwood again, all shock and perplexion in a mirror of what Wolfwood must imagine that his own expression is made of.
“Lord above, what the fuck.” Wolfwood asks no one in particular.
Vash makes an odd little grunt, as if to agree.
It was that sound that tipped Wolfwood off into hysteria. A little hrm and big black eyes staring off into the middle distance, wondering what the fuck he was gonna do now. Perhaps rethinking all of the day’s choices. Maybe every choice he’d ever made in his one hundred and fifty odd years.
At least until he wasn’t. Drawn back to the present by Wolfwood’s snort.
Beady eyes narrow.
Wolfwood tries, fails, and gives up on trying to reign in his expression. “Out of all the weird shit I’ve seen you do-” He starts, and stops. What could he even say? What has Vash ever done that he could even compare this to?
“You look like a chick touched a live wire.” As the last word left Wolfwood’s lips, he began to laugh. The creature’s face scrunched up in tiny, indignant fury, which only served to make it worse. It was like a cartoon - he couldn’t help his reaction!
Wolfwood laughed, and laughed, and laughed until his head hurt. Until his sides hurt, until his lungs ached. Until he found himself doubled over in the sand, tears streaming down his face as he fought for enough air to fill his lungs, enough to keep speaking, to keep digging his own grave. And still, he could not stop. “Like they tried to revive a chicken, and it came back wrong!” He’d seen Vash angry plenty of times, he’d seen Vash’s fake anger, the kind that came from poking fun and from insults that dug under his skin. He’d seen the true, petrifying coldness that came when some poor soul had truly found a way to dig in where it hurt, and pull all of that suppressed rage to the surface.
But this?
This was something else entirely. That frown pulled down further, his eyebrows - were those eyebrows? - the feathers that sat above two scrunched-up eyes bunched down low, and the feathers across his body stood on-end like a scared cat.
He couldn’t take it. “Like a pomeranian fucked a feather pillow!”
With that, Vash was off with a terrible shriek. He sprung from where he’d been oh so patiently enduring Wolfwood’s bullshit, kicking up a cloud of sand from where his hind legs (were there legs? There had to be legs.) pushed against the ground.
He made impact directly on Wolfwood's gut, knocking him back flat on the sand, and forcing out the hard-won air from his lungs. “Ough - Hey, Spikey! Stop!”
Vash did not stop. “VA!” He screeches, “Vava!”
Was that meant to be intimidating? Threatening?
Because it was neither. The brief respite Wolfwood had been gifted by taking Creature to the gut ended as Wolfwood broke out into a fresh laughing fit.
“Stop!” Wolfwood cried, grabbing onto Vash by his sides, asking not for relief from the attack but for a gift of air before he died of asphyxiation. “Needle-Noggin, please-”
Sharp little fangs dug deep into Wolfwood’s wrist.
That did the trick. “OW!” Wolfwood yelled right back, trying to rip his hand away but Vash only dug his fangs in deeper. “I’m sorry! Jesus god, I’m sorry!”
Eventually, Vash’s bloodlust was satisfied. He settled himself on Wolfwood’s chest. Still giving him that tiny, evil glare while Wolfwood, still flat on his back, held his hand up over his face to check the damage.
Several little pinpricks, none bleeding all that much. Not dangerous, but certainly painful.
He set his wrist back down, and lifted his head up enough to regard the creature that had made himself comfortably loafed over his lungs. “So, are you gonna change back?”
“Va.” Not an ear-piercing yell this time, small mercies.
“Is that a can’t or a won’t?”
“Va!” Vash said once more, and Wolfwood let his head drop to the sand again.
“I don’t know what that means.” He groaned. “One va for the first, two va for won’t.”
“VA!” And we have returned back to the shrieking.
“Fantastic.” Wolfwood sighed deep, and pushed himself to sit up straight. Vash slid backwards, not fighting gravity in the slightest until he came to rest on Wolfwood’s lap. “We’re gonna need help. Think Knives’ll know what to do?”
He was given a tiny, venomous glare as Vash bared his needle-like fangs.
That shouldn’t be cute.
Why was that cute?
“Don’t give me that look, what other choice do you have?” Vash let out a big huff of breath, several wings flapped out once. Did that mean something? Oh, well. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Vash made yet another little grunting sound as Wolfwood wrapped both hands around his middle and began to lift him up. “Let me just… Up you go - HEY! The hell is that for?”
Slowly, Vash removed his teeth from what had just a second ago been Wolfwood’s one unbitten wrist.
Little bitch.
“Maybe you haven’t noticed but you’re a bit small to walk home, aren’tcha?” Accepting that he was probably going to be bitten no matter what, Wolfwood kept on moving, pushing himself up off of the sand and letting Vash hang like a sack from where he’d shoved him up under his arm. Halfway to his bike, he stopped. “Actually - should I be worried about you going flying out of the sidecar?”
“Va!” Another huff. It sounded tired this time. Did this transformation drain him? Or was he just sick of Wolfwood’s shit?
“I’m serious!” Hefting Vash back into both hands tucked under his front legs (Arms? Limbs of Dubious Nature), he held him out not unlike how you’d lift up a human infant. Or a small dog. “You’re made of fluff and weigh like… nothing. You weigh less than that damn cat Livio keeps feeding.”
There was no sound that joined the great big huff of air that escaped Vash this time.
He’d pay for that later, he knew, but for now he seemed to be in the clear.
“Can you wait here for a minute?” Wolfwood asked as he set Vash down on the seat in the sidecar. There was a motion to the Creature that Wolfwood interpreted as a nod. “And keep still? I don’t want something to try and carry you off.”
“VA!”
“God above.” Wolfwood chose to ignore that while he went to gather up Vash’s discarded… Well, everything.
Stalking back out to where Vash had been during the power burst, he tried not to think about what was going to happen as soon as they made it home.
Vash, thank goodness, was just where he's left him. They stared at each other, Wolfwood trying to figure out the best way to pack all this up, Vash daring him to get his fingers into nipping distance.
Finally, Wolfwood settled on a plan. He dumped Vash's clothing overtop the Creature that Once Wore Them, and set his arm boots on either side of him, letting his arm and gun settle in the footwells. “Here, I’m just gonna… weigh that down. Can you breathe?”
It was small, a little muffled, but the shape underneath the whole mess shifted and there was a distinct "Va."
There. That works.
“Okay, good." Wolfwood settled himself on his bike. "Screech if you need me to stop, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hear you over the wind- Christ."
That comment triggered a new wave of vicious screeching.
Turning the engine on did, in fact, drown out the angry little Thing in the side car.
He just had to make it home.
Answers, explanations, and band-aids could come later.