Graven Images by Diamondback

Another hour had passed, and the shady patches in the forested areas deepened into dark wells framed by foliage. J.D.´s stomach was growling again, but he chose to ignore it and keep his attention on the landscape and Buck flanking him some twenty feet away, weaving in and out through threes and brush.

No more tracks had turned up, though occasionally J.D. saw something that he wanted to take as a sign—some flattened grasses, perhaps, or a broken limb that indicated someone or something had passed this way—but then he was afraid it was only wishful thinking on his part.

While his eyes searched across clearings and past trees, his mind wandered to what Ezra had said to Mary Travis to deter her last night. Whatever it was had worked. J.D. had learned some tracking skills from Vin, maybe it was time he learned some smooth talk from Ezra. Might be a good idea for future Casey emergencies, especially if they were going to get married, which he was still considering despite all that had happened in the last two weeks—and despite Buck´s hounding him that peacekeeping and husbandry didn´t mix.

Perhaps another hour had passed, and he´d noticed Buck had ridden further ahead and was no longer flanking, when a loud whistle summoned him. J.D. picked up his pace and galloped through the trees, weaving in and out diagonally until he´d closed his path with Buck´s and he could see the older man´s back ahead, sitting up in the saddle as Buck rode quite well for someone handling the reins primarily with one hand.

Picking up speed, he caught up and rode along side. “What is it?”

“Barn ahead,” Buck said and gave a nod forward.

J.D. looked on where the woods thinned into a completely overgrown pasture, and the rear of what indeed was a barn, its shady side facing them and covered in green leafy growth. As they rode closer, the green proved to be a full expanse of poison ivy that had long since taken over the shady side. Buck slowed his horse to a halt, and J.D. followed suit. Everything from tumbleweed shoots to devil´s claw and chicory plants had wedged themselves into the lower corner of the barn´s side, and the pastureland beyond looked like a haven for snakes. Nature was definitely working to reclaim the area. Buck dismounted and held up a gesture for J.D. not to follow.

“Stay put,” he whispered and handed his reins over.

J.D. blinked and nodded. He watched Buck draw his Peacemaker and hold it ready while he waded forward through the grasses, making his way around the barn, stepping high and wide occasionally to avoid some obstruction that was out of J.D.´s line of sight. In the silence, J.D. noticed no birds were singing in this area of the woods, and the horses grumbled uneasily. His own mount cocked his ears back irritably and gnawed on the bit, teeth grinding and tongue slathering. J.D. absently patted the animal´s neck and looked past the barn into the pasture. Beyond the surrounding hills, the sun hung low, indicating they had roughly another hour of full light before the blue yonder became a muddy haze. His gaze went back to Buck just as the tall gunslinger disappeared around the far side of the barn, which J.D. assumed was the front. He didn´t know the Claytons´ property, and while he and Casey were given to exploring, they didn´t tend to trespass if they could help it, even on land not currently occupied.

A moment later Buck came back around the corner and hurried toward the horses, sheathing his gun and throwing glances back toward the barn. He paused one last time to get a calculation on the sun and then reached up to take his reins from J.D.

“Kid, you need to go back and get the others.”

“Chris and Vin are. . . here?” J.D. stammered. “You mean we actually found ‘em?”

“You ride like hell back. Especially make sure you find Nathan and get ‘im back here.”

“What about you?”

“Stayin´ with the plan. I´ll keep watch, aw´right?”

J.D. nodded, his heart racing as he looked at the back of the barn again.

“Hurry on.” Buck waved him off. “We don´t have a lot of light left.”

Nodding, J.D. steered his horse about, threw one more look toward the eerie shade of the barn, and gave a jab with his heels. His horse was more than happy to comply.

In the kid´s wake, Buck stroked his horse´s nose and blew into the wary animal´s velvety nostrils. “It´s allllllll-right,” he crooned and gently tugged the reins to lead the horse a little further away from the barn. Once the reins were secured to a low limb along side brush that made for good horse trail snacks, he turned back for the barn and approached again.

Taking the same careful steps over craggy rocks hidden in the grasses and the leathery ruin of several dead cactus pads, he made his way around the barn. The ivy had grown across the top of the barn and draped down over the door, where direct sunlight had dried it out and left a rustling veil of curled and crispy leaves. Inside, however, the veil provided ample shade, even with the sun at its current angle. The grasses from the pasture had grown past the threshold to the point where the shade began, and the musty odor of old hay permeated the hot interior. Buck walked straight to the back of the barn, beneath the loft, which was still well stocked with old bales of hay now turned gray with mold. In the last stall, he found them again.

Vin lay still and shirtless on his back, white skin like milky marble in this dull light, his hair strewn about his head and sprinkled with little bits of hay and leaves. His silken lips were parted, showing the slightest hint of long teeth.

Chris lay heavily against him, using Vin´s chest as a pillow, his shoulder tucked into the crook of Vin´s arm. His hand rested spread over Vin´s lower belly, as if he´d been ready to sneak his fingers beneath the waist line of Vin´s trousers, but instead he had passed out before he could go any further. Chris´ own pallor was also pale but far less luminous - strangely more deathly than Vin´s - with dark circles under his eyes, and his lips were chapped and cracked.

The sight stabbed at Buck with little needles of worry. He couldn´t make out whether or not Chris was breathing. Guessing that he wasn´t at risk of Vin awakening yet, he crept forward drawing his knife. He avoided the vampire completely while he lowered the knife and angled the sharp edge out, away from skin, and the flat side of the blade beneath Chris´ nose and the slight part in his lips. A few seconds later he caught a tiny glimpse of moisture on the blade before it evaporated. He waited. Again warm breath collected on the blade and vanished. Buck withdrew the knife and backed away breathing a sigh of relief that hurt like hell in his tight chest.

Lowering himself to his knees, he stared at the two men: one dead, one close to it: graven images tangled around each other with whipcord limbs, faces still and peaceful in love and death.

It was the most beautiful thing Buck had ever seen.

-7-7-7-

The horse´s hooves were like thunder to his ears as J.D. sped through the forest, weaving in and out of trees and avoiding rocky juts where the land sloped and the trees thinned. He used those trees to tell the time, estimating how much had passed by the slant of shadows which grew longer and more obscured. He was racing those damned shadows and losing. The sense of desperation grew, his heart beat faster, and his vision darted over the landscape with the hope of catching sight of any of the others. Upon reaching an expanse of clearing, he reined to a stop and looked around, noting the rolling hills to the north and woodlands to the south. This was where they had all broken up to continue the search. He hoped the others hadn´t gone too far south as he gave the horse´s rump a smack and galloped down through the little plain toward the trees.

“NAAAAAAAAAA-THAN!” he yelled, hoping his voice carried far enough that the healer would stop moving and perk up. Sweat had gathered around the inside rim of his hat and a fat rivulet broke free to leak down between his eyes. It tickled like hell, but he focused on riding. He shouted at intervals, alternating their names until finally he let out a shout of, “EZZZZZZ- RAAAAA!!!”

“J.D.!” a call finally answered. “Over here!”

He steered toward the sound of the voice and found himself coming upon the stream but further north of the point they´d first encountered it. Ezra was galloping toward him, and to J.D.´s relief, Josiah and Nathan plodded out of the trees and up along the embankment behind the conman.

As they rode closer, Ezra´s eyes examined the younger man´s anxious state. “I take it from the pace of your breath our hunt is successful.”

“Won´t be successful if we don´t hurry up,” J.D. gasped out between breaths. “Buck´s with ‘em now, in a barn up on the edge of the Clayton property.”

Nathan took out the jug from the saddle bag, gave it a fresh shake, and secured it again. “Then let´s go. Ain´t long before we lose the sun.”

With that, they all gave a shake to their reins and galloped off.

-7-7-7-

Why the hell did he put himself in these situations? Buck wondered as he sat back on his haunches and continued to stare at the two men in the bed of old hay. First he´d chosen to vampire-sit with Vin last night, and now here he was again. Well, the decision had more reasoning behind it this time; J.D. wasn´t suited to wait here. The kid would have grown too nervous and agitated, and he also hadn´t experienced what it meant to have a one hundred and seventy pound Vin Tanner dive at him with fangs and claws. And then, Buck had to admit, the moment he´d seen the two in the hay, he had decided to give them a little bit of privacy. No one else had to see this just yet, and J.D., after all, didn´t understand the full reason why Vin had chosen to return to Chris for blood when he could have been roaming the countryside working his way into remote farm houses to prey.

Buck tilted his head and examined Chris´ sleeping face, which could look downright childlike - despite the lines around the eyes and mouth - when relaxed and not scowling. A sun-streaked lock of hair stuck to Chris´ temple, and there were a few scratches on his face, no doubt from running into tree branches and briars in the middle of the night. Served the determined fool right, Buck thought and shook his head in partial amusement. He wondered what had been going through Chris´ mind last night when he had broken Vin free and disappeared into the night with him.

A scratchy and disgruntled twitter sounded from the barn rafters, startling Buck and sending his heart into his throat before his nerves settled again and he damned himself for being so on edge. He looked up into the round and reflective eyes of a screech owl, not much bigger than a fist, which regarded him irreverently before it turned, boosted from its perch, and flew under the veil of ivy in the doorway. Buck watched it glide away and stared past the veil at the last remaining daylight peeking through the vines and the vertical cracks in the barn´s aging walls.

It was getting particularly dark in here, and Buck didn´t want to have to guess when Vin´s eyes opened again. He stood and looked around, finding the barn still held some of its old wares. There was a pitchfork in the corner near the entrance, a shovel, and a hatchet. Several rusted horseshoes were hung along the top of one of the stall gates. Hanging from a nail near the door was an old lantern, its globe coated in crust, and it´s reservoir and frame rusted. Buck gave it a try anyway and found it sloshed when he gave it a shake. Just enough kerosene in there to provide some light in this dilapidated excuse for shelter. He felt into the pockets of his coat and came up with a few spare matches kept on his person for just such an occasion. Striking the head against the large hinge in the barn door, he soon had a tiny, crackling, and temperamental flame glowing within the globe. Lantern in hand, he used a foot to shift aside the hay and clear a spot down to the dirt where he could sit the light. Then he sat and waited, pondering how the elixir of ash water would be delivered to its patients. Likely, the only choice would be to force it down their throats, and that wasn´t going to be pretty.

Buck bowed his head and took a few long, slow breaths, concentrating on staying calm as the sun´s lower edge dipped behind the horizon. The golden light cast ragged patterns through the ivy veil, and he watched those patterns crawl up the wall. The instant he heard hooves beating closer outside, he rose and hurried from the barn to stand at the corner.

Nathan was in the lead, thank God, and slowed his horse only enough to dismount, neatly pulling the jug from the saddle bag as he went. While Ezra, Josiah, and J.D. secured the horses, the healer was already running to meet Buck.

“This way,” Buck said in a partial whisper and gestured Nathan into the barn. “Hurry, we´re going to have to separate ‘em.”

“Huh?” Nathan murmured and frowned as he followed Buck to the back of the barn and turned the corner to look down into the stall. The lantern light was not angled specifically on them, but the tangled figures were clear enough to see. Nathan took a breath, knelt, and put the jug safely aside. He stared briefly, and Buck guessed why.

“He´s alive. I already checked.”

Nathan blinked and looked up at him. “All right, Buck, can you help with that shoulder of yours?”

“Whatever it takes,” Buck replied and knelt behind Chris. Gritting his teeth as he worked his arm out of the sling and his shoulder joint throbbed, he reached down, removed Chris´ hand from Vin´s belly, and gently rolled Chris away from his lifeless companion. Chris murmured an objection, and his brow knitted. Nathan reached down to help, and together they eased the unconscious man onto a greater mound of hay only a few feet away.

They finished the move just in time for J.D. to come through the door, pause to search the place, find them, and come hurrying toward the rear stall. Ezra and Josiah were soon to follow.

“So, which one´s first?” J.D. asked a little too loud and Buck gave him a harsh “shhhhhhh.” The kid´s wide eyes stared at Vin, and he nearly sprang out of his skin when Ezra spoke sharply in his ear from behind.

“Makes a comely corpse, doesn´t he.”

“That ain´t funny, Ezra,” J.D. groused back.

The conman proceeded to Nathan´s side. “I wasn´t trying to be funny, Mr. Dunne.” He looked at Chris. “If we can rouse him enough, we might want to feed him the mixture now.”

“I agree,” said Nathan and he took the jug and inched his way closer. “Buck?”

Buck nodded and lifted Chris´ head. “Chris, buddy, wake up.” Tangled, damp waves of blond curled around his fingers and he touched at the clammy skin on Chris´ cheek, giving a little pat. “Chris, wake up.”

Chris´ eyes rolled open slowly, and he muttered something incoherent. The others gathered around as close as they dared, watching with concern, throats tight with anticipation.

“Come on, Chris, wake up. . .” Another pat and he got another murmur. “We´ve got something to make you well.” Buck leaned his head down close, lips to Chris´ ear. “Something that´ll make you well, and maybe Vin, too. Now ain´t that worth something to ya?” He sensed, somehow, that Chris heard him, but hearing and acknowledging were two different things. The non-response sent chills through him. It was as frightening as sitting in the clinic alone with Vin. “Come on, Chris. . .” He gave another pat, and the heavy head turned slightly, the lips parted and huffed a tired breath. It was all the sign Buck needed. He nodded to Nathan with a glance at the jug.

Nathan gave the mixture one final shake and held the opening to Chris´ mouth. He tilted carefully, until the jug was almost fully on its side, before a flood of blackened gritty water issued from the vessel and into Chris´ mouth. It was too much at once and washed back out.

With a cough and a jolt, Chris came to life. His body bowed upward and his arms out, weak, but still fast enough to startle the hell out of the five men gathered around. Ezra stumbled backwards and came down on one knee next to Vin, while J.D. scrambled out of the stall, and Josiah closed on Chris´ other side to help keep him pinned. With a shout Chris tried to struggle, then broke down coughing.

“That´s good, that´s good!” Buck said encouragingly. “That´s it, Chris.”

“Nooooo. . .” Chris rasped between coughs, and tried to bolt up right and reach across the way. “V. . . Vin. . .”

Ezra gaped as he watched the head regulator pull and push against Buck and Josiah as they propped him up, and Nathan force fed him another mouth full of the mix. Grimacing, Ezra watched Chris try to spit it out, but some of it went down. How much was enough? he wondered. Young Stefan had not revealed that.

Then something occurred to Ezra as he realized that the lantern appeared to be the only illumination left in the room. No more sunlight filtered through the veil. With a start Ezra reeled around and looked down to find Vin staring calmly back at him from where he lay.

In the first second, Ezra´s heart skipped a beat; in the next, his breath caught; in the next, he opened his mouth to sound the warning, but Vin cut him off. The vampire sprang up and swung the back of his hand across Ezra´s face. A solid CRACK sounded from Ezra´s jaw and he let out a yelp.

The movement got the others´ attention as Buck and Josiah both whipped their heads around. Chris reached a grasping hand out from between them and gruffed out, “Viinnnnnn!”

Vin bounded to his feet, answering the call, baring his fangs as he faced the group.

“Keep him cornered!” Buck fought to keep Chris pinned into the hay and the stall corner.

“Oh my. . .” J.D. uttered as he got his first dose of Vin fully awake and coiled to strike. “. . . God. . .” He stared, blinking wide, frightened eyes as his mouth bobbed open searching for something else to say.

“Kid, get away from him!” Buck shouted.

The drained opalescent hue of Vin´s eyes glowed in the dim light, rings of white fire accentuated by the glare on his brow and the curl of his lips over those teeth. A long, low snarl rumbled out of his throat. He stood slightly crouched, stepping from side to side, ready to spring at any instant, and J.D. had somehow managed to be the closest target. With an abrasive wild cat shriek, he dove at the kid, fingers curled into claws and reaching out.

“J.D., goddammit, MOVE!” Ezra took two hurried, long steps, and shoved J.D. back where he hit the wall with a THUD that threatened to bring down the barn loft as hay rained through the cracks above.

J.D. now out of reach, Vin grabbed the next closest thing: Ezra. His jaws gaped wide open as he plunged his teeth into the side of the conman´s neck.

Ezra cried out and managed to hoarsely shout, “Get him off me! Get him off!” He pushed against Vin´s chest, unable to detach as he felt the cold lips on his skin suck in a mouthful of blood.

In the commotion, Buck did the only thing he could think to do. He threw himself on top of Chris, eyes tearing as the pain in his shoulder reached a new, muscle-tearing high. “I got ‘im!” he cried to Josiah, who took the hint and rushed to the other side of the struggling conman and vampire.

Ezra stumbled about furiously, trying to shake the thing feeding on him.

Beneath Buck, Chris let out a miserable groan and reached toward Vin. “Vin. . . no. . . please. . .”

“Let us help him, Chris,” Buck hissed desperately, eyes tearing in pain and sadness. Gradually he felt the struggles, weak though they were, drop off, and he heard a weary sniffle.

“Vin. . .” Chris murmured and closed his damp eyes as if he could take no more. In the dark corner and the musty hay, Buck shifted to the side and cradled his old friend´s frail body. There were grimy streams of the ash water lining Chris´ chin, and Buck dabbed it away with a thumb.

Meanwhile, J.D. had recovered from his toss against the wall and rushed to help Josiah as he attempted to pry Vin away from Ezra. Nathan hovered close by, light on his feet, hugging the jug as he protected the precious mixture from flailing hands and kicking feet. The struggle was moving dangerously close to the lantern which, if kicked over, would send the entire barn up in flames and then saving Vin and Chris would be pointless.

“I have him!” Josiah announced as he wove one arm around Vin´s neck and pulled out.

Ezra gasped as the teeth came free of his throat and he stumbled back. J.D. grabbed one of Vin´s arms and clamped on tight as he put all of his weight into keeping the vampire from making his way toward the exit.

“Come on now, Vin,” Nathan spoke, easing closer, the more Josiah and J.D got a better hold. “Don´t be this way now. We might can fix this.”

Ezra´s blood dripped from Vin´s lips, adding a greater look of malice to his vicious snarl. He lurched forward suddenly, baring his teeth in a resistant, angry roar.

A few feet away, the conman stood doubled over, a hand clamped to the side of his neck. The blood had stained his collar, ruined his cravat, and his neck throbbed. He could feel the little irritated puckers of flesh where Vin had bitten him, and at first anger moved him - anger that this THING really was no longer his friend, and Vin Tanner was long dead. Then Ezra clamped down on the hot emotion dizzying him. A quick glance up and he assessed the situation: Vin was on the verge of shaking Josiah and J.D. off of him, Buck had to remain with Chris to ensure the crazy man didn´t try to crawl after his vampire lover and injure himself further, and Nathan had to hold onto the jug so he couldn´t very well aid in restraining Vin.

Ezra took a breath, swallowed down the angry lump in his throat, and with a determined shout, spun toward the heart of the commotion and lunged forward, straight into Vin with a forward tackle.

The clutch of men went over, all shouting, Vin attempting to bite, claw, and kick. Ezra landed on top, pinning the vampire, while Josiah and J.D. remained to the sides.

“Now, Nathan!” Josiah´s voice was strained and gritty. Sweat glimmered on his brow and he pressed down on Vin´s wrist, putting all of his weight into it. Sprawled across Vin´s body, Ezra shoved his forearm under the vampire´s chin and muscled hard to keep that fanged mouth away from any skin.

Vin hissed ferociously, the gleam of red and spittle lingering on his lips. His body twisted beneath, a solid force of corded muscle and cold skin, no less different than wrestling with a mountain lion.

Nathan stumbled around the pileup looking for the best way in. He decided to go from the head, where Ezra had Vin´s face angled upward, and the vampire´s mouth was gaping wide enough. Giving the jug a swirl, he dropped to his knees, staring at the dagger-like tips of the fangs touched with crimson. Beyond the sharp barriers, Vin´s blood-sated tongue flicked. Hands shaking, he held the jug up over Vin´s head, attempting to aim for the mouth, and tilted it. Vin jerked against his captors, but Ezra´s forearm remained firmly lodged beneath his chin. Ezra strained a little forward, forcing Vin´s chin up, angling his lips closer to the spout on the jug.

The elixir poured out in a torrent that spilled against Vin´s teeth, splashed across his cheeks. As he roared outrage, the liquid pooled into his mouth to be unexpectedly gulped down. A new scream unlike they´d ever heard before emitted from deep within the vampire´s chest. Strained within itself, it sounded strangely like two entities crying out together. Its higher pitches caused pain to the ears, and everyone winced.

In his place seeing to Chris, Buck turned away from the sound, while Chris looked head on into it, tears a free flow from his eyes, one hand reaching out across the hay toward the poor struggling creature that had been his friend and more.

Scowling at the din, Nathan poured a little more from the jug. It drained almost perfectly straight down and directly into Vin´s throat, where it cut off the terrible sound and smothered it down into a gurgle. Vin tried to toss his head, and some of the sooty liquid coughed back out in little spats that dotted his white skin. His eyes flared blue-white one last time then clamped shut tightly as if closing out the world. For a moment Nathan despaired that the alleged “cure” was not going to work.

Then abruptly everyone realized at the same moment that the struggles had ceased. Only random shudders ran through Vin´s body, but he otherwise lay still, eyes closed, and gradually his face relaxed, and his mouth slowly closed, hiding away the fangs. A marbleized pattern of red and black clung to his lips. As Ezra dared back off, and released his hold against the vampire´s throat, Vin coughed and attempted to twist sideways, but it wasn´t in struggle.

“Let him go,” Ezra urged gently and watched. All leaned in closer for a better look, and Buck, still holding Chris, craned his head up to try to see over J.D.´s shoulder.

Once free, Vin curled into a fetal position and shivered, his wild hair strew about his head and shoulders as he coughed and a weak and sickened whisper of, “Oh. . . God. . .” came out. They were the only words he would utter at that time. After a moment he drew in a grating breath, and his eyes opened, crystalline blue and soft, gleaming wetly as his brow knitted in a look of loss and distress.

“Vin?” Nathan whispered and dared reach down to carefully touch at an upper lip. He nudged it up just enough to see that the canine underneath was not long and sharp but exactly as it should be: a simple tooth. Nathan let go, and cupped his hand against his friend´s face as he bowed his head and silently prayed.

Josiah joined him.

Vin still said nothing as the dams in his eyes flooded. The rivulets washed past the black grit left by the ash water, and his eyelids sank wearily to half-mast as he shuddered again.

Ezra suppressed an emotional shudder of his own. “Gentlemen,” he said softly but with great relief. “I believe those are human tears.”

-7-7-7-

Vin lay in the dark of his hotel room listening to the rains pound the tin roof above and the narrow balcony outside the window. Piano music came muted and jangling from somewhere nearby and the odd late night rider plodded by in the street below. Restless, he tossed to the side. He´d not undressed or turned down the covers. Only his shirt was unbuttoned and his suspenders loosened to hang about his hips. If he didn´t manage to doze off soon, he´d go down to the saloon for a couple of drinks. Yep, maybe some good hard whiskey would drive Saul´s face from his mind and help him sleep.

Why the hell hadn´t he kept Saul out of the rain? The young man had been so insistent, and Vin knew that sooner or later a tracker had to face the elements and deal with them. But rather than take Saul´s money and take him out on the trail, he should have ordered him to march over to Potter´s store and purchase an oiled slicker instead.

Sighing, Vin rolled over again, back to the window, and stared at the faint crack of light under the door from the hallway. He considered Chris´ words: “It´s not your fault. Damned fool knew he was sick and didn´t have the sense to stay out of the rain. Even when you told him to.”

But how much, Vin tried to recall, had he really warned Saul it was best not to go out in the rain with that cough? Sighing heavily, he simply stared at the crack, trying to blank his mind. He focused on the sound of the rain. It went from a dribbling noise to a roar; then it dropped off again only to pound harder a few minutes later. Centered on the inconsistent rhythm, Vin finally dozed. As his eyes closed, the light from under the door remained burned into his vision for a moment before it, too, faded and he found comforting darkness.

He jolted fully awake when a loud bump issued from somewhere else in the hotel. The piano no longer played, and the light under the door had gone out. Only vague atmospheric light penetrated the room from the window, and Vin noticed the rain sounded particularly loud and less muted. Actually. . . He blinked to allow his eyes to adjust further to the darkness. Actually, there was a damp draft in the room that chilled his back.

Rubbing his eyes, he rolled over and blinked until his vision fully adjusted and he could see the muddied illumination of the clouds, but also he made out that the window appeared to be open with the lower pane raised and lodged in place. Wind blew in rain drops that splattered randomly on the floor. He thought he´d locked that window, but what troubled him most was that it had definitely been closed when he´d drifted off.

As he frowned, rubbed his eyes, and started to sit up to go close it, he noticed the slight outline of one side of a figure standing near the opening. The faint light defined a shoulder and arm, and a hip, and the slightest outline of a hard jawline, but the rest of the figure was shrouded in the darkness of the room. Vin´s nerves jumped to life and his hand flailed out to the bedside table where he kept his mare´s leg. He barely gripped the stock on the Winchester before the figure moved on him faster than he could comprehend.

It dove on top of him with the weight and strength of a man, and a cold as ice hand wrapped around his throat and shoved his head back against the wall. A second frigid hand grabbed his and pinned it to the bed, while with his free hand Vin pushed out, trying to put distance between himself and the intruder. The heel of his hand pressed against a stout shoulder that didn´t budge in the least.

He gasped for air as the hand squeezed just enough to strain his windpipe. Musty smelling breath ghosted over his cheek in the dark. He tried to kick, but his legs were pinned under the weight of the intruder. Then abruptly the grip on his throat loosened. Vin gasped and continued to shove against the attacker. If he pushed any harder, he´d be going backward through the wall.

Then a voice, rustling and hollow, whispered in the dark. “Vin. . .”

Vin froze and for a moment only felt his heart in his throat. He swallowed it back down and uttered back with squeaky surprise, “Saul?”

He had to be dreaming, he thought. The figure in the room had not felt real to begin with. It couldn´t have been Saul. He´d beaten himself up so much this afternoon over the whole thing, now it was coming back around to bite him in the ass and haunt his dreams.

”You were such a good friend to me, Vin,” the voice whispered again, accompanied by that moldy breath. The hands never let go. One remained firmly clenched around Vin´s wrist, the other clamped his throat and kept his head against the wall. Tiny, icy needles pricked at his skin as he felt the intruder lean closer, sniffing at the hair cascading around his face.

”This ain´t happenin´,” Vin uttered back. “You ain´t real.” But the declaration had no effect. The phantom still held him down, and he didn´t wake up. There was a shifting and the sound of movement as Vin felt the breath move down over his chest, and he cringed. “Oh, God. . .” he hissed prayerfully. He tried to push his head forward and drop it back against the wall. If he managed to pound enough, maybe he´d get the neighbor´s attention. Someone was bound to complain about the noise, get up and come pound on the door, which surely would frighten off the intruder (Or better yet, wake me up, Vin thought). Maybe they would even go get Chris and demand he do something about it. Vin tried to lean forward slightly but couldn´t get enough distance to really give the wall a good loud knock. Goddamnit. He writhed and grunted desperately, still to no avail.

”Can´t we still be friends?” the thing in the dark asked gently. The voice was right, and the accent was right. . . but what was happening now. . . couldn´t be right. Vin gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt a chilly wet tongue paint at his right nipple.

”Oh, God. . . no. . .” he pleaded and squirmed against the weight. The sensation sent strange zings through his body and he shivered violently. “You ain´t. . . real. . .” he gasped one more time, but he still didn´t awaken.

A soft murmur of, “Mmmmmmmm. . .” vibrated over Vin´s skin and he braced himself, suppressing tears of denial that any of this was happening. He felt the brush of hair on his chest and that tongue ringing incessantly around his tightening nipple.

Then suddenly pain erupted around his pectoral area and the sensitized teat. Vin bowed up with a gasp and tried to scream but the hand on his throat cinched up just enough to cut it off into little more than a scratchy groan. He felt sucking and pulling at his skin and warm wet leaking out. The pain dropped away abruptly and turned into a shudder of pleasure unlike he´d ever experienced before. It flooded his mind, shutting away the urgency of the situation, and all of his woes over Saul Han´s death disintegrated away.

Gradually his body relaxed and waves of dizziness consumed him, sent him - and his fear -spiraling down into the most welcome darkness.

He floated for a time, vaguely aware of the voices around him, recognizing them, yet too detached to put names to them. His inner vision looked into a void, consuming, peaceful and beckoning. Instinct told him that way laid the path to final rest. All he had to do was accept it and take that final step off the cliff into nothingness. But he didn´t feel whole enough to do so. He would be leaving some piece of himself behind, and it took little convincing for him to back away from the void and drag himself up through the mires of consciousness where he felt the harsh and frightening dump back into his body.

Returning to life was rebirth in its most traumatic form. Everything hurt, from the tips of his fingers to his torso, to his gums. His heart throbbed against his ribs, each beat sluggish and excruciating. Then above it all his stomach lurched as he smelled. . . bacon?

He pried open gummy eyes and blinked up into the shadows of barn rafters. A brilliant beam of sunlight flickered at him through a crack in the barn wall, and he sniffed the air again. The voices persisted, scattered around him, and from somewhere close by, he heard the crackle of a fire and the sizzle of smoked meat frying.

The smell was both delightful and sickening. Delightful because he knew he loved bacon and he recalled that he hadn´t had it for a while now, then sickening as the greasy aroma knotted him up inside.

Vin groaned, rolled onto his side, and vomited into a scattering of hay to the side of the thin bedroll on which he had been lying. The place spun as he retched and convulsed, spitting up a nasty black substance that left grit on his tongue and teeth.

Suddenly familiar faces were hovering over him. A hand held his head up to help him empty his stomach, and when the convulsions stopped, he was helped back onto the bedroll. Buck was sitting to his side, and Ezra near his feet. Rolling his head to the side, he looked across the barn floor to see Chris lying opposite him, sound asleep.

“Welome back, pard,” Buck said softly.

Vin opened his mouth to speak but only a crackle of a sound came out. He tried to swallow, but the ashen taste was too strong, and he felt like his throat had withered into jerky. “Wa. . . water. . .” he managed to croak out.

“That we can provide,” Ezra said and readily held a canteen to Vin´s lips. It went down smooth enough, but failed to alleviate the dryness. Nathan rose from where he had been keeping vigil by Chris and came over carrying a clay jug that Vin felt he´d seen before. Oh yes, he´d seen it. . . the thing flashed before his eyes as if it were dangling over his face. . . tilted in Nathan´s dark hands. . . about to pour its contents into his mouth.

“I think I get it,” Nathan said, primarily speaking to Buck and Ezra. “Sometimes charcoal is used to draw out poison in the stomach, and most vaccines are made up of dead specimens from the diseases they cure.”

“So,” Ezra asked dryly, “dead vampire ashes both cure disease and draw out the curse?”

Nathan nodded. “It´s your turn, Ezra.”

The conman´s brows knitted in a pathetic plea. “Burn my body when I die and scatter it to the four winds,” he blurted out. “But please, oh please, don´t make me drink that grime.”

“Ezra, go take your medicine,” Buck said patiently and cocked a wry grin. “It ain´t that bad.”

Ezra glared mildly at Vin, muttered, “This is your fault,” and stood to look Nathan evenly in the eyes before he took the jug and marched away with it.

“I´m gonna watch you take that now,” Nathan insisted, hot-footing it after the conman to oversee that the cure was taken.

Vin tried to grin, too, but his lips burned and he coughed. Buck helped him take more water and he settled back down to gaze around the rest of the room. Josiah and J.D. were near the entrance, and had dug a little fire hole in the ground. The smell and sizzle of bacon came from there, and while it still unsettled Vin´s stomach, he found it an immense comfort. “How long have we been here?” he rasped.

“Two days,” Buck said. “J.D. and Josiah went back into town and picked up some supplies. We´re set to stay however long need be until you and Chris are ready to leave.”

“Chris. . .” Vin started to sit up but collapsed as his abdomen clenched tightly.

Buck gave him a healthy pat on the shoulder, and even that hurt a little. “Jeezuz, Vin, just lay still. Chris is gonna be fine. He took the cure, too, and he´s restin´. But you—“ He shook his head in disbelief. “You had the longest climb to make. Looks like you´ve made it, hoss.” The gunslinger´s sapphire eyes twinkled with warm delight as he seemed unable to stop smiling. It was a sight that told Vin everything was going to be all right, and entrenched though his body was with pain, it was GOOD pain—pain that told him he was alive.

And, he thought as he admired the sleeping face not eight feet away, Chris was alive, too.

Right now, that was all that mattered.

One Week Later

Gray morning light filtered through the cabin´s windows and onto the bed where Chris sat up against the headboard with a blanket across his bare shoulders and a fresh copy of the Clarion in his lap. Buck had just dropped it off, along with another few days worth of supplies and a bag of coffee, which Vin was all too eager to tear into. Nathan would come by later on his rounds, check on Chris for the hundredth time, and deliver any other news that hadn´t yet made it into the paper. For now the stead was quiet. . . except for the sound of Vin rattling pots and pans in the little kitchen corner. The tracker, alive and well and feeling too damned good for Chris to keep up with, was looking for a second tin cup to serve the coffee.

Chris drew in and savored the aroma of the fresh brew and read aloud over the light racket of clinks and clanks. “As premature burials are not uncommon, Mr. Jackson reported he was troubled declaring Mr. Tanner dead. While there were no signs of life when dressing the body, he says he noticed that the blood issuing from the wounds remained fresh.”

“Good one, Nathan,” Vin commented over his shoulder as he finally found one cup under the table. He held it up and gave Chris a suspicious look.

“Uh, yeah, I threw a few things,” Chris admitted.

Vin smirked slightly, shook his head, and carried the cup to the stove where he wiped it out and then set it alongside its partner while he waited for the coffee pot to finish percolating on the iron top. He crossed his arms over his naked chest, leaned against the table corner, and listened to the rest of the carefully concocted story.

“Mr. Jackson determined that a third day exhumation should be performed, with the permission of Mr. Chris Larabee, on whose property the gravesite was located. Mr. Tanner´s body was found to have no apparent signs of decay. Miraculously, he proved responsive to Mr. Jackson´s examination, and was immediately removed to the Larabee home for treatment, where he was to remain pending his recovery. There his life hung in the balance for days, but Mr. Jackson says that he held out hope.”

“And Ezra came up with this?”

“Yep,” Chris gave the paper a flip to upright its corners. Wonders certainly never ceased. Apparently, as the remaining regulators had been acting so peculiar during the period of Vin´s return, it wasn´t hard for the conman to come up with some story why. Mary, God love her, had swallowed it whole and also agreed that it was a good idea to keep Vin´s “miraculous survival” a secret until further notice. Ezra had emphasized to her that Vin´s life was very fragile and he could still die anyway, so best to give him all the time he needed to heal and for Chris to act on Nathan´s instructions for Vin´s care. Chris´ alleged “hard night of drinking,” which had incapacitated him, had been—according to Ezra—“brought on by the tension of the situation.” It further explained why Josiah and Ezra had been gone all of that next day—they were “out at the Larabee stead filling in for Chris.”

“The man definitely speaks with a forked tongue.” Vin returned to the stove, poured the cups full of steaming black brew, and turned back with them in his hands to stare fretfully at Chris.

“Covered all the ground, didn´t he?” Chris remembered telling Nathan once of hiring a cheater that you never knew when you´d need one, and though Ezra had indeed demonstrated the usefulness of that philosophy in the past, he had proven well worth his weight in gold now.

“What about the judge?”

“He pardoned Nathan of any malpractice,” he noted from the article. “Travis played dead once, remember?” He reminded Vin and narrowed his eyes slyly, recalling that said situation had not exactly been a legal ruse, especially for a judge to pull off. Folding the paper and putting it aside, he added, “We backed him up then. Maybe he´s just returning the favor.”

Vin still looked uncertain as he put the cups aside to cool for a moment, wiped his now-warmed hands on his trouser hips, and approached the foot of the bed.

Chris´ eyes roamed up the course of the other man´s body, from the trouser creases around the crotch, to the hollow of Vin´s navel and his lean abdomen, up to his chest and the long hair that draped across his shoulders. There were still silvery gray streaks amid the bronze waves, lingering signs of what Vin had been through. Chris figured they would help serve the Seven´s deception well. Vin had otherwise cleaned up quite nicely after his encounter with undeath, and while his skin still held a slightly chalky pallor, he was far ahead of Chris on recovery. He had first complained of bodily soreness and moved stiffly, and it had taken a couple days for him to keep down solid food, but now he was up doing chores and ate readily any vittles on the table. If only he´d rub all that damned worry from his face.

Though, Chris had to admit, if he were to be introduced back to the town after having been mistaken for dead (or in Vin´s case literally dead) he´d be a little shy about it, too. For now they had all determined to wait and see what the public response was to the Clarion report, but Chris had a good feeling about it. Travis had not only excused Nathan, but he´d stated, for the record, that even though Ella had not succeeded in killing Vin, the attempt counted against her, and she would have still hanged for Sarah and Adam´s deaths. Especially, Chris thought, for Adam´s. Children were so often claimed by natural causes (illness, harsh winters - hell, anything), but murder. . . that was harder for people to let go.

He glanced away from Vin, momentarily guilty to look at the object of his affection while thinking about his dead son. He did still mourn Sarah and Adam, but no longer in the same way as before. They would want him to move on. They would want him to be happy. Wouldn´t they? Blinking away the sting in his eyes, he swallowed and looked back at his happiness standing before him, and he reached out his hand.

Vin slowly took it and sat down on the edge of the bed. Chris scooted carefully over to make room, reached up to stroke back a long lock of golden brown hair from Vin´s face, and tucked it behind his ear alongside one of the gray streaks.

“Do you remember any of it?”

Vin´s breath hitched slightly, and he stared downward, lost in thought for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally admitted. “Yeah, I do.” It seemed no easy task as he pondered it further. “Everything felt like a dream. . . well, a nightmare.” He shrugged. “I felt like I was looking down a dark tunnel, but I could never reach the end of it. Nothing really made sense, but I knew what I wanted and needed. . . the blood, I mean. . . and I couldn´t stop myself from taking it.” Pain and regret washed over his face, bringing out little lines and creases that momentarily aged him. “I couldn´t stop myself from taking from you, even though I knew it would kill you.” He closed his eyes tightly. “And the hunger I felt. . . It was all through my body. I. . . I can´t explain it. I just. . . I´m so sorry I hurt you.”

Chris´ hand swept to Vin´s cheek and cupped it, felt that it was warm. He recalled how cool and stiff the skin had felt that first night Vin returned to him, when he´d been too drunk to deduce that Vin should not be here. . . Vin should have been in his grave, quiet and at peace. But here he had been, a gorgeous specter on Chris´ porch. Whether it was real or not, Chris had allowed himself to sink into the dark embrace unquestioning, until he didn´t want out of it, didn´t want to be saved. “How do you feel now?” he whispered.

Vin opened his eyes and stared back. “Like I died,” he said huskily, “and then came back.”

Chris nodded. “The others understand all of this better than I do,” he confessed. “All I knew was you had come back. I didn´t care how. I still don´t.”

Vin´s hand crept up from the edge of the bed to rest on Chris´ chest, his fingertips absently tracing the ridge of the collar bone. “The night Saul died. . . I don´t know what happened, exactly. . . I felt like he somehow. . . touched me.” Chris clearly remembered that night, though it had been months ago. At the time, he´d been busy staring at Vin´s sharp profile damp with rain and seen nothing to indicate a curse was being passed from Saul to Vin. Vin frowned deeply, looking away as if to grasp the fragile memories and pull them more clearly to the surface. Chris could see the frustration building on the younger face. “Then he came to me. . .”

Chris´ brows rose and then immediately sank into a frown of his own. “Huh?”

“I couldn´t remember it after it happened, but after the cure. . .” He pondered again, leaving Chris tense and wanting to hear it all; if Vin took a second more, Chris felt he´d start biting his nails. “He got into my room one night, and attacked me. He bit me.” Vin took another long pause, swallowed so hard Chris saw his Adam´s apple jump, and then reached up and touched his right nipple. “Here.”

Heat washed over Chris´ face—the heat of jealousy. Staring at the area in question, he could see two tiny pearly scars that matched the marks left on his own neck, arms and inner thigh. No, he stopped himself. It was stupid to be jealous. Vin had not asked to be attacked, and certainly not bitten there of all places.

“I didn´t remember it right after it happened, but when Nathan poured that stuff down my throat. . . it somehow came back to me. That attack from Saul. . . I´d never been so afraid in my life.” Then Vin leaned closer, his gaze roaming over Chris´ face with such intensity, Chris felt as if an invisible touch prodded gently into his skin. “But nothing scared me more,” Vin added with a slight tremor in his raspy voice, “than when Ella shot me. I knew I was dying. . . and I thought I´d never see you again. I didn´t want it to be the end.”

Chris blinked at that, at a loss of words, and wanting nothing more than to clutch Vin to him. The tracker´s lips were hovering close to his own; he could feel the warm, living breath. “It´s over,” he whispered back. “It´s finished, Vin.”

“Yeah.” The murmur sounded lost, perhaps still a little scared of what lay ahead. For a long moment the silence was deafening, and then Vin´s brows knitted with a look of partial amusement. He obviously wanted to lean away from all this talk of death, and who could blame him? “Don´t I remember you asking me to finish something?” he husked, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

Chris couldn´t suppress the creeping smile that peeled back his lips, or the elation as his heart jumped. “Finish it,” he whispered back, and in an instant, Vin´s lips covered his. A hot tongue probed between his lips and teeth and Vin´s hand grasped the back of Chris´ head holding him in place. Chris cupped Vin´s face in his hands, his thumbs caressing the sharp angles of the jawline, pads feeling out every little rough whisker stub and the smooth skin around it. The kiss deepened, hot and slick, and then dropped off abruptly as Vin pulled back and stared with a frown of uncertainty.

“You really want this?”

Chris blinked at the question. Had not giving his blood, and his demands in the woods, indicated that he goddamned well wanted it? He was about to give the short answer, and then he realized why Vin might ask that. The tracker had died and become something not human, not himself -even if a piece of him had remained - and in that state he had acted on pure animal instinct and dark desire. Chris´ submission had not been forced, but he hadn´t exactly understood what was happening nor had he cared; no opiate could have had such power over him. As a result, they had both been headed down a path of pure destruction that, Chris now assessed, could have grown into plague-like proportions; the entire town could have suffered. It really did all seem like a dream now, and Chris had to wonder did each of them have his head planted squarely on his shoulders now. To pursue this meant living a secret life, which he was pretty sure Buck, at least, knew about. The others weren´t much of a worry, but the rest of the town could be if word got out. On the other hand, they were already keeping one huge secret concerning Vin´s resurrection from the dead. . . what did one more matter?

So. . . hell yes, he wanted this.

As an answer, he reached up and caressed Vin´s right nipple, instantly raising the dark pink flesh into a tight little bud. “He bit you here?” he husked.

Vin cringed back as if tickled and grabbed Chris´ hand. With a breathy chuckle he replied, “Yep. . . right there.”

Chris pushed himself away from the headboard to lean down and brush his lips over the area. The blanket slid from his shoulders, leaving his naked skin to tighten at the morning chill. He heard Vin hiss breath through his teeth and felt the other body shiver against him. Briefly he felt their recent roles reversed. Figuratively speaking, he could have fed on Vin. He sucked and nipped at warm flesh, moaned insatiably against Vin´s chest. The very tip of his tongue found the tiny puncture scars and massaged each one, leaving his own mark in wet kisses. He then licked his way up through the shallow cleft between the tracker´s firm pectorals. Vin threw his head back, exposing his neck for Chris to kiss until he´d made it back up to the chin. His cock jumped inside his trousers and he prodded anxiously into Vin´s crotch to see if he, too, reacted.

His hand cupped against a warm bulge and Chris stroked gently, provoking an anxious groan as Vin´s hips rocked gently. “I´ve never done this before.” He meant that to mean not with another man, but he was shivering and anxious, and words just didn´t come out quite right.

Hot breath ghosted into his ear. “Then I guess we´re both virgins,” Vin whispered and his hand found the top button on Chris´ fly. They fumbled for an amusing moment, opening each other´s trousers, and then they stood hurriedly to shuck them off. Vin wriggled his hips slightly so that his pants loosened and slid down, but Chris felt a wave of dizziness and moaned.

“Whoa,” Vin uttered and quickly caught Chris against him. “Chris?”

“I´m fine.” He sat back down on the edge of the bed and took long slow breaths. “Stood up too fast.” Nathan had been on his case not to strain. Not to do anything, really, until he truly felt up to it. Well, he felt up to this, if only his body weren´t still so weak. Never had Chris any idea that it could take so long to recover from blood loss, and right now his patience was suffering more than his body.

Vin knelt before him, looking up into his eyes. “Then let´s just take this slow. A little at a time.” He helped Chris raise up his ass enough to slip the trousers the rest of the way down, exposing Chris´ half erect prick, then slid them off and deposited them along side his own at the foot of the bed.

Chris leaned back on his hands and stared down at the pair of mischievous eyes smiling back at him. There was so much life in them now, when before they were almost white, their blue too pale and eerie, unfathomable as to whether there was still a soul in there or not.

Vin ringed his thumb and index finger around the base and pumped up gently. “How´s that?” he whispered.

The result was instant sensation as Chris felt the hot blood—thin though it ran in his veins—fill his rod little by little. “That´s. . . that´s nice.” He watched Vin´s calloused hand rise then fall, and as his groin throbbed, he felt as dizzy sitting as he had standing. “Heh,” he murmured as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

“What?”

“I think all my blood´s gone to my prick.” Then he gasped sharply as the warm slickness of Vin´s mouth engulfed him. His eyes sprang open in surprise as a new charge of pleasure shot through him, and then his lids drifted to half mast and hung there in drowsy bliss. Vin was so careful sucking him, plunging down, lips in a loose silken ring that tightened before he drew slowly back up again to the head. His hips rocked forward of their own volition, fucking that wonderful hot mouth, his senses twirling a merry dance as sweat beaded on his brow. Eyes closing completely again, he forgot there was a world beyond the space around the bed. He heard his own moans as if disconnected from them as he teetered quickly toward the edge. He balanced there in a state of exquisite agony, before his hips thrust forward and stiffened with the first explosive pulse. His hips dropped, rose, and he came again, crying out as each thrust produced a new wave of fiery passion. Instead of blood, Vin consumed his seed, draining him completely, until he stiffened one last time and collapsed onto his back gasping.

Vin took a moment, his lips pursed as he swallowed, before he rose from the floor and leaned over his lover to kiss Chris´ navel and spiral his tongue around in the dew of fresh sweat. Chris felt a stupid smile creep across his lips and opened his eyes to stare up at Vin´s face. From this angle, the window light fell directly on Vin´s head, illuminating his hair with streams of gold and silver and casting off soft brown, feathery eyelashes.

If Vin had been ethereal in his unlife, he was just as much - or more - now restored to human. Chris reached up a quivering hand and caressed the chiseled cheek. “I want you inside me,” he husked.

Vin´s already swollen and rosy cock lay against Chris´ lower belly. It flexed as if in response and his hands massaged and tweaked Chris´ overly sensitized nipples.

“On the table. . . “ Chris gasped out. “. . . some of that. . . balm. . . balm Nathan left here.” It was the only thing he could think of to ease Vin´s passage.

Vin straightened, looked toward the tin, and nodded. He stood and retrieved it quickly, leaving their bodies no chance to cool down. Returning, he slid back in between Chris´ spread legs and fumbled the tin open. An herbal aroma rose from the balm, like warm sweet hay. Vin scooped out some on the end of his middle finger and, moving slowly, worked his way up under Chris´ ass to find the tight ring of muscle tucked in the cleft his cheeks. It was such a strange sensation as Chris felt the finger penetrate slightly, rubbing in the balm; he gasped and fought the natural urge to clench up. This, he realized, was going to be awkward, but a greater feeling loomed that if he didn´t have Vin inside him soon, then he´d feel half-fulfilled for the rest of his life. The finger moving inside him slid out then in again, and Chris stuttered out little shocked breaths.

“Ssshhhhhh.” Vin´s breath blew across his lower belly, tingling through the dirty blond curls of pubes, while the tracker kept one hand extended, continuously stroking at Chris´ left nipple. He pulled his finger out, took up another dollop of the balm. The wonderful natural smell permeated the entire bed area as it warmed on his hands and he once more eased his hand between Chris´ ass cheeks and stroked inside, this time penetrating with two fingers. They stroked in and out, hooking gently upward until they rubbed against his inner zone and a sharp, tickling sensation made his cock jump anew. Chris swiveled his hips in a circle, instinct moving him to find that perfect spot again. Vin moved in a rhythm, the balm heating and growing slicker and more fragrant.

Gradually Chris felt himself relax as he told his body this was a welcome invasion. Tension melted out of his hips and when he felt the fingers leave him, he missed them. On his knees, Vin ran the balm over his member and murmured an anxious growl as the shaft gleamed slick and ready. He aligned himself, and Chris could feel the thick head press against his opening. Vin´s eyes met his, questioning without saying anything.

Are you ready?

Chris nodded and felt his hole pucker against the new and much larger intrusion. Vin slid in a little at a time, and Chris´s body wanted to bow up at the initial pain that sent spasms through him. “Don´t. . . stop. . .” he hissed through his teeth. It was more of a command; he didn´t want Vin concerned about his pain; he knew it would subside, so they had to keep going. He focused on a large bead of sweat as it swelled out of Vin´s hairline and made a rivulet down the middle of his forehead where it found the bridge of his nose and hung there sparkling in the sunlight like a great diamond embedded between his brows. Vin pushed a little deeper, and the bead fell free. It splashed on Chris´ tight, arching belly and in that second, Chris felt consumed by the reality that he and Vin were one. The pain disintegrated as Vin´s cock head cleared the opening and the shaft moved further inside, rubbing against that rapturous wall that sent rivers of warmth ramifying throughout Chris´ loins.

Vin groaned and closed his eyes as he readjusted Chris´ legs to circle his hips, giving him better access. He eased out slightly then thrust back in, threw his head back, tossing his silver- gold locks over his shoulders, and staring straight up into the sunlight. “God. . . so. . . tight. . .” the tracker gasped and tremors traveled up his body from his groin. “So. . . damned. . . tight. . .”

Through the veil of heaven clouding his vision, Chris gaped at the reflection in Vin´s blissful eyes; he bathed in the different shaded shards of blue and imagined diving through the dark of the pupils wherein he could see Vin´s soul completely bared for him. He saw the being of light, genderless and magnificent, that had fought through an unfathomable darkness to return to him, so willful as to elude even the grave.

With a burst of new strength, he pulled his legs in and lassoed Vin closer. Vin cried out as the tightness and friction claimed him, and his hot cum spewed up into Chris´ body. At completion he shuddered and gave one last great thrust accompanied by another surge of heat.

Vin heaved for breath as he leaned forward and collapsed over Chris´ upper body, and his hair fell around Chris´ head in a veil. They kissed again, oceans of euphoria descending on both as Vin gingerly unsheathed his member from between his lover´s legs, trailing wet stickiness. They readjusted in the bed and lay tangled around each other for a moment before the coolness of morning engulfed them again, drying the sweat and forcing shivers.

“I think our coffee´s done grown cold,” Vin commented. He sat up and swooped the blanket up into the air so that it billowed down over top of them, covering them head to toe, creating a cocoon that smelled inside of sweat and sex. He resettled and rested his head on Chris´ chest all but purring as he did so. “Not bad. . . for a couple of. . . virgins,” he husked drowsily.

Chris smiled to himself and nuzzled his lips against the crown of silken hair. “Not at all.” He worked his tongue in his dry mouth and swallowed to dampen his raw throat. “As far as first times go. . . it was beautiful. Besides, we have all the time in the world to perfect it.”

“Yeah. . .” Vin murmured. “Forever. . .”

They lay in silence for a long moment, and Chris realized Vin had fallen asleep when his breath came leveled out and slow. The tracker´s nose gave a tiny repetitive whistle that was rather soothing to hear.

Smiling to himself, Chris closed his eyes and soon sleep claimed him, too.

Epilogue

“Vin Tanner, don´t you dare get out of that chair,” Nathan´s voice griped. What was so amazing was that he hadn´t even turned around. He and Chris were currently facing Tiny as they handed off the horses they´d rented to haul Vin´s buckboard into town.

Vin guessed the healer had eyes in the back of his head. Just to test the theory, he eased one foot off the foot runner on the wheelchair and touched the toe of his boot to the ground.

“Hey-hey, I see that. . . Nathan!” Buck´s teasing voice came from behind and Vin twisted around in the seat to glare up at the tall gunslinger.

“Tattletale,” Vin grumbled and crossed his arms. He´d been sitting all the way into Four Corners, hidden in the back of the wagon, and now he was sitting in the clinic´s wheelchair because he had to look like he was still recovering. Vin understood completely why they should keep up the ruse, but it didn´t keep him from feeling jumpy. He had too much energy built up over the last two weeks out at the stead. The rest of the Seven, particularly Chris and Nathan, had been strict that he stay indoors to avoid being seen by anyone who might happen across the property; certainly there had been some curious eyes since Mary´s article had come out. After all, a man who had barely survived a shotgun blast to the chest should not be up sprinting around or riding his horse across the hills. Chris, on the other hand, had worked up his strength riding and walking across the property, inspecting the now empty chicken pen, and feeding the horses. It wasn´t fair, damn it.

“Looks like yer patient there´s a mite bit impatient,” Tiny said with a deep chuckle.

“Yep.” Nathan grinned. “He´s just a little tired of being still.”

“Wonder I don´t have bed sores,” Vin grumbled, just for effect.

“Bored, huh?” Tiny chuckled again and shook his head incredulously. “It sure is good ta have ya back, Vin.”

“Thanks, Tiny,” Vin called to him with a gentle—but not too energetic—wave.

Taking the reins, he led the horses into the livery, and Nathan and Chris turned to stroll over to the chair and its disgruntled occupant.

“So where´re the others?” Vin asked. Buck, Chris, and Nathan had been his escorts into town, but he hadn´t seen Ezra, Josiah, or the kid in over a week.

“Saloon,” Chris said and took his place behind the chair to push.

Vin´s nerves were already running a steady hum under his skin and his heartbeat quickened. The others claimed the gossip about him had settled down, and for the most part it had been good gossip. No one seemed to be holding it against him for not being actually dead, and the story about Nathan double checking to make certain he hadn´t made a mistake had saved face for the healer as well. Still, Vin couldn´t help but feel strange facing the world again.

As they headed out of the livery yard and up the thoroughfare keeping close to the boardwalk, he noticed eyes turning his way, and the occasional finger pointed toward him. Gloria Potter was standing on the boardwalk in front of her store, with ole Mr. Conklin down front speaking to her. Her gaze rose to see Vin and for a second she froze, surprise on her face, then that melted away and her eyes warmed, cheeks rising as she sent him a big smile. Vin raised his hand from the armrest and gave her a gentle wave. Conklin noticed her attention shift and turned around to see what had brightened her face. He squinted through his spectacles, blinked, and then Vin nearly did keel over dead because the old fart smiled.

Looks like a possum in specs, Vin thought. He recovered, smiled back, and muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “Am I seein´ things? ‘Cause I think Conklin just smiled.”

Strolling alongside the chair, Buck smirked and gave the old man a casual wave as well. “Believe it or not he was at your funeral,” he said quietly.

“Really?” Vin looked up at him in shock and raised an eyebrow. “Who else was at my funeral?” It was a genuinely curious question, but the others were too amused by it to take it seriously.

The chair´s wheels ground along, and Vin made sure to wince convincingly when Chris hit the occasional bump. Further up the street, Vin was visited by various others, received pats on the shoulders, and shook hands. He continued to play that he was all weak-like and recovering; sometimes he held a hand over his chest as if still pained where he was shot. The ride wasn´t so bad after all, he decided, though his face was starting to hurt from smiling.

At last they arrived to a small crowd outside Digger Dave´s, where Mary Travis stood on the boardwalk smiling down at him. She looked pretty in the afternoon sunlight and wearing an airy white dress with little flowers embroidered on the skirt. “Hi Miz Travis,” he greeted her.

She looked like there were tears in her eyes as she stepped down from the boardwalk with Billy trailing close behind her. “Vin. . .” She said and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek—just a tiny, discreet peck.

“Howdy, Vin!” Billy chirped.

“I bet you were at my funeral,” he said happily, provoking a snort from Chris, while Mary´s brows knitted in confusion.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“Yeah, Vin, she was.” Buck bowed his head and shook it, the front brim of his hat swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

“Don´t mind him,” Chris told her. “He´s still figuring out what to do with the rest of his life now that he´s got it back.”

“Oh,” Vin said with a smile, “I know what I´m gonna do with it, all right.” He was relieved Mary didn´t ask him what, as “Fuck Chris day and night” would probably not be received well.

Then Ezra appeared in the batwing doors and stepped onto the board walk. “Ah, the man of the hour has arrived.”

“You ready to go in?” Nathan asked.

“Yep, ready as I ever will be,” Vin replied, and let the healer, and Chris, help him out of the chair and walk him up the steps. “See you later, Mary,” he called after her, knowing she likely wouldn´t follow them inside.

“You enjoy yourself, Vin.” She smiled sweetly. “And. . . welcome back.” Then she swept off gracefully through the crowd leading Billy along. The child kept glancing back, wide eyes taking in the man everyone was talking about with such amazement.

Ezra stepped aside to allow Vin and his handlers through and went to help Buck hoist the wheelchair up onto the boardwalk where they set it to the side of the doors and out of everyone´s way.

For a moment, dark blotches danced before Vin´s eyes as his vision adjusted from sun-bright outdoors to dim interior, and an uproar of cheers and claps met his ears. He blinked the blotches away and found the small crowd all standing from their tables, cards and shots momentarily forgotten as they greeted him. The familiar smell of old polished wood, sweat, stale smoke, and spilt beer met him.

Behind the bar, Dave polished glasses and smoked a fat cigar. He put down the glasses and secured the cigar between his teeth to free his hands so that he could clap and cheered out a gruff, “Vin!”

Carefully Vin raised a hand and touched the brim of his hat, nodded to the bartender as well as a few of the patrons, and then allowed himself to be guided toward one of the Seven´s favored corner tables where he saw J.D. and Josiah waiting. Everyone else gradually settled back into their seats and resumed cards and drinking. As Vin looked about, his gaze happened to glance over the floor where he´d fallen when Ella shot him. His eyes darted back to the spot, focused, and little chills prickled all over his back under his coat. The floorboards still bore the remnants of blotchy dark stains, and he didn´t have to guess where they had come from. Blinking heavily, he looked away and to his friends at the table.

Buck pulled out a chair for him and Chris helped him ease into it before taking the closest seat and signaling the bar. Vin threw more smiles around as his eyes met Josiah´s, then J.D.´s. Nathan sat down next to the kid, and Buck settled down on Vin´s other side from Chris. They were certainly quite a crowd to be circling one little table.

It took a few seconds before Vin wondered where Ezra had gotten off to, and then a hand passed in front of his face. He recognized the frilly ruff around the wrist, and then the hand tipped and a small trail of horse feed spilled onto the table in front of him and formed a neat pile.

Vin´s smile dropped as he stared at the grains and glared. Without looking over his shoulder, he snapped, “That ain´t funny, Ezra.”

“Simply an examination for lingering symptoms, Mr. Tanner,” the conman said as he slid fox-like into the last vacant chair and propped on his elbow to observe. The bastard was really having fun with this; Vin could tell.

A moment later, a full virgin bottle of Red Eye clomped down on the table, Dave´s thick hand wrapped around the neck. “On the house,” the bartender announced to them and regarded the pile of grain with a raised brow. “Just so´s you be sure to frequent this here establishment,” he added as he smiled toothily at Vin. Then he sat seven fresh shot glasses down.

“You ought to get him to clean up that stain,” Buck said and winked.

Vin winced first, then shook off the comment as simply one of Buck´s ways of dealing with the morbid—humor—and Buck had a right, too. He had been there by Vin´s side through some of the darkest hours, even fed him when the hunger had grown to excruciating proportions, and risked bringing the curse on himself as well. Yeah, Vin figured, Buck could joke.

Dave guffawed, slapped Vin on the back, and pulled the potent- smelling cigar from his mouth to blow a perfect smoke ring into the air. “Buck, you´d be amazed how much business that stain´s brought in ever since that article in the Clarion.” He walked away chuckling, all seven sets of eyes watching him go.

Vin turned back to face the group and stared incredulously. It wasn´t uncommon for a death in a joint to bring in more business, but so bizarre to think that in this case it had been his own.

“You´re famous,” J.D. said happily and gulped from the half-empty glass of milk in front of him. A white mustache painted on his upper lip, he added, “Next thing, Jock Steele will be back to wanna tell your story.”

“Good God, I hope not.” Vin still hadn´t let the grain thing go as he glared at the pile and then at Ezra. The conman´s green eyes were alight with amusement and his gold tooth beamed back a perfect fleck of light when he smiled. Then just as quickly, the smile faded and those eyes became deadly serious.

“This fame could have its price if the Hans hear of a man returning from his grave to the community,” Ezra reminded them all. J.D.´s enthusiasm faded and Vin´s frown etched its way deeper into his brow as he added this new consideration to his annoyance with Ezra´s grain joke.

“We´ll be ready for them,” Chris said with a low and warning timbre in his voice.

“Let´s hope,” Josiah added, “that Saul´s brother that helped us out. . . Stefan. . . will side with us then, as well.”

“Wish I could thank him,” Vin said, “for tellin´ you about the cure.”

Stroking at his mustache, Buck inclined his head toward the grains and frowned. “Tell me somethin´, Vin.”

“Yeah?” Vin started to reach for the bottle, got his side nudged by Chris, and backed off. Chris muttered a grunt and took the bottle to uncork it and start the celebrative pouring.

“When you were. . . well, in the condition you were in. . . what was with the counting thing?” Buck looked genuinely perplexed. “I never seen the like.”

“Um, well. . .” Vin pondered how to explain it. Certainly there were images in his mind—memories—of picking up one grain after another along the alley path below the clinic steps, counting each as it tucked into his palm. It was like looking through a haze, as had been the entire experience of vampirism. As he had told Chris, the world didn´t make a lot of sense. There was only him, his desires, and the hunger. Everything else seemed to spin, inconsistent, and dark. The grains, strangely, had an order to them that fascinated him. Vin scratched at the scruff on his chin and ran a fingertip through the pile before him, leaving a trail. “I guess it was my mind´s way of connecting to the world,” he said. “Seemed like the only logic I could fully understand. . . counting, I mean.”

Buck continued to stroke his mustache and nodded to himself as he considered the answer. Vin noticed that while Buck was no longer sporting a sling, he still moved his shoulder with care as he tossed back the round Chris had poured him and planted the glass back down firmly on the table. Another flash of memory struck Vin: of going over the railing outside the clinic and Buck falling on top of him; it hadn´t really hurt, but he couldn´t help but feel a little guilty that he´d instigated the attack that injured his friend.

“Maybe it was your higher self trying to get an anchor on things,” Josiah suggested.

“Higher self?” Ezra raised a brow at the preacher.

“You mean like my soul?” Vin stared at him.

“Exactly.” Josiah threw back his drink and swallowed.

“You think I was damned?” Vin asked abruptly. Even he hadn´t expected the question to come out, so it was little wonder the others appeared to squirm uncomfortably in their chairs. This time he took the bottle before Chris could shoo him away from it and poured the preacher another and Buck one, too.

Josiah shook his head. “Well, now, that depends on what you think of as damned.”

Vin´s eyes darted to Chris, lingering for a moment as he relaxed in the cool green of his lover´s eyes and then he gestured toward the empty glasses. “Yeah, I was damned,” he said as he looked back at Josiah, “I have no doubt, I´d have just gone on feeding. Once Chris was. . . through. . . I mighta moved on to someone else, and then another. . . and they´d just all have become like me—“

“Vin—“ Chris tried to interrupt. As many discussions as the two of them had had all week, Vin knew Chris was still tenderly concerned for his feelings on the matter.

“No, I gotta say this,” Vin insisted and looked around the table. “I wanna thank all of you for having the guts to. . . to do what you did. You didn´t just save me. You saved a lot of people whose dyin´ would have been on my head.” He reached down and ran another line through the grains diagonally with the previous path, creating a lopsided cross. “And I know this is gonna sound weird, but I gotta thank Ella, too.”

Chris straightened in his chair and a frown of confusion sank deep between his brows. His eyes grew shadowed as if it were previously forbidden to say the woman´s name.

“See, there´s this kinda. . . good thing. . . that came out of her. . .” Vin leaned forward and lowered his voice to be sure no curious ears overheard. “Some good came out of her killin´ me.”

“What the hell was good about it?” Chris scowled. Vin looked at him with utter calm and gave a small smile as he thought, She brought us together. Chris didn´t hear the thought, but Vin saw that the smile he offered coaxed the irritation from Chris´ face; the deeper lines smoothed out, and he waited patiently for the explanation.

“If she hadn´t killed me when she did, I´d have just carried on with Saul´s curse on my head, and I´d never have known it. Years down the road, who knows where I´d be? Where would the rest of you all be?” He paused to study their eyes, all serious, including Ezra who stared at his untouched shot and traced a fingertip delicately around the rim of the glass. “I could´a died later and come back, and time might´a passed we weren´t all here together. I wouldn´t have had you all to take care of me.” And damned if his throat didn´t tighten up. He took a breath, fought back the wave of emotion that swelled up within him. “I couldn´t ask for better friends,” he finally finished. “I know I´ll never have friends as good as all´a you the rest of my life.”

An uncomfortable silence fell among them as other eyes angled toward the table, a head or two bowed, and they all had to recover.

“So,” Vin finally said as he lifted his glass, “to my friends.” My brothers, he thought and added, “And to livin´ again.”

They all followed suit, lifted their shots and struck the rims against each other over the center of the table. A soft clink, a jostle, and the amber liquid splashed up into the air and fell again to be intermingled among their glasses. With happy cheers, they drained their shots and slammed the glasses down on the table with a perfectly timed CLUNK.

Having not tasted whiskey in weeks, Vin caught his breath and exhaled invisible fire. Then he smiled at Chris and swore he felt a hand brush briefly over his knee under the table. A glint of mischievousness danced through the head regulator´s eyes before he took the bottle away from Vin and poured another round.

Vin held up his glass for another toast, and while he continued to cheer with the others, quietly he considered his good fortune. He and Chris would never be separated again by silence, jealousy or misunderstanding. After death had failed to keep them apart, the little things were just that: little things.

And wherever she was, Vin hoped that Ella Gaines and her demons were finally reconciled.

FIN

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