ON  CHRISTMAS  DAY by C.V. Puerro

It was well after midnight when Vin quietly mounted the stairs, up to the second story of the boarding house. Normally he turned right at the top, the direction in which JD's room lay, but tonight he took a left and made his way to the far end of the hall. He double-checked the room number in the sallow, low light of the hallway lamp, and then gently twisted the doorknob of room number four.

Using one of the many skills he'd learned while living with the Indians, he crept silently inside, closing the door behind him. Then he stepped out of his boots and peeled off his clothes before moving to the end of the double bed. A very faint stream of moonlight was shining in through the window, illuminating the bed; Vin was disappointed to find it empty.

Chris's patrol was to have ended at midnight, with Ezra taking the next shift. Even though he'd been reminded, it was more likely than not that Ezra had stayed too late at the saloon again: "Just let me finish this last hand of poker," he'd say, if confronted. "I'm winning." He was always winning, to hear him tell it.

Vin slid under the covers, pulling the blanket up to his chin, and waited. In his mind, he played over his lunchtime conversation with Chris, and Vin couldn't help but wonder what holiday traditions he and Sarah had shared. Vin didn't have any of his own, none that he could recall his family ever practicing, and he'd always avoided other people's families at Christmas time. For the first time since he was young, Vin allowed himself to ponder on the things families did together to celebrate. Then, he began to wonder what it would have been like to spend Christmas in the Larabee home with Sarah and Adam ... and Chris....

He closed his eyes, picturing stockings tacked to the mantelpiece, above a blazing fire, a huge pine tree filling the room, decorated with strings of popcorn, nuts, and winter berries, and surrounded by boxes tied with string and colored ribbon — like something out of a picture book. He couldn't see Sarah, but he could hear her in the kitchen, and he could almost smell what she was cooking: gingerbread and turkey. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Adam laughing. And then there was Chris, a cheroot hanging from his lips, the brim of his black hat pulled low over his eyes, and his long legs stretched out, propped up on a stool in front of the hearth.

Chris.

Vin walked over to him, feeling the warmth from the fire on his bare skin. The man pushed his hat back to gaze up at Vin before reaching out and running a hand up his leg. The other hand followed, caressing his skin, gently, almost hesitantly. Soon, both hands encircled Vin's waist, and then slid behind to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer. Vin lolled his head back, allowing the pleasure to wash over him. Then he felt Chris's soft tongue licking at his cock, slowly wetting the entire length from base to tip....

Slowly, Vin's eyes opened; the dream of the happy Larabee home was gone, but, he realized with a smile, the sensations along his cock remained. A moment later, a moist heat surrounded his tip, and then very slowly began to envelope the entire length of his hard shaft. Vin gripped onto the sheets, fighting the urge to thrust, to speed the action and release the building tension the only way he could.

"Chris," he finally moaned and the sound seemed to echo off the walls.

Suddenly, cold air struck his bare body as the sheet and blanket were tossed away. Vin sat up to find Buck plastered against the footboard at the far end of the bed, the moonlight illuminating his horrified stare. A moment later, they both heard the sound, boots on the hallway floorboards, and then the door swung open.

Chris Larabee stepped into the room. He stood stock-still for less than a heartbeat before closing the door behind him. Only then did he look from Vin's naked form to Buck's.

"What in HELL is going on?!" Chris demanded through gritted teeth.

Vin didn't know what to say. He really had no idea what had happened, or why. He waited for Buck to say something, but all the man did was squint his eyes shut, as if willing the world to simply disappear.

Chris seemed to be the only one with words. "Vin? Did JD have too much laudanum to be able to satisfy you tonight?" It was a harsh statement and Vin felt the sting. "Buck? You gone through all the women in town and now you're starting in on the men?" Even in the faint moonlight, Vin could see Buck cringe from the blow of Chris's words.

When only silence filled the small space of the room, Chris said one last thing: "The two of you had better be dressed and out of here by the time I get back!"

Chris didn't need to place his hand on his gun for emphasis; Vin understood, and he suspected Buck did as well. Chris turned without another word and left, closing the door so quietly behind him that Vin wasn't even sure he'd closed it at all.

Vin hopped off the bed to check, throwing the lock to be certain. Then he grabbed his clothes and, turning his back to the bed, began to dress.

As Vin pulled his long johns up over his hips, he heard Buck's voice, small and unsteady: "Whadda ya doin' here?"

"Me?" Vin couldn't believe the man's question. "What're you doin' here—" Oh, my God! Then a cold sweat washed over him as all the sensations came flooding back. "You.... What the ... what the fuck were you doin' to me?!"

"Vin ... I-I didn't mean to ... I didn't mean ta touch you like that," Buck began to protest. "I thought.... You weren't s'posed ta ... I didn't know it was you."

"Who else would it be?!" Vin demanded, but the answer came the moment the words passed his lips. "You thought I was Chris...." Vin stared hard at Buck, waiting for a response, but none came as Buck simply hung his head. "What's goin' on, Buck?"

Buck shook his head slowly from side to side, but remained silent.

"Tell me," Vin growled, a sudden flash of anger sweeping over him at the thought of what Buck would have done had he not woken up when he did. "God damn it, Buck!" Vin rushed across the room, grabbing the man by the shoulders and shaking him. "TELL ME."

Buck slowly lifted his head, and Vin saw the glisten of tears that filled his eyes. Vin loosened his grip on the man, stunned by the pain he saw there. Then, suddenly, Vin was on his back, pinned to the mattress with Buck straddling his hips.

"Nothing happened," Buck insisted, his voice low and menacing. His fingers dug painfully into Vin's shoulders, but Buck didn't seem to notice, if he even cared. "Say it," Buck demanded, but before Vin could speak, Buck's mouth was covering his and Vin could taste the whiskey.

Finally, Vin was able to twist his head to the side, breaking the kiss. "You're drunk," he spat. Then he felt Buck's full weight on top of him, as the fingers digging into his shoulders disappeared, and the man's hands came up to the sides of his face. Buck held Vin's head firmly, forcing another kiss on him.

The man's bristly mustache scraped across Vin's lips as Buck pressed for entry, finally managing to force his tongue inside. Vin struggled to resist, struggled to push Buck away.

No longer caring if he hurt the man — the drunkard — Vin bit down on Buck's tongue as he dug his fingers into his ribs. Buck lurched back, giving Vin just enough of an opportunity to roll off the mattress and plant his feet on the floor. Buck's hands were instantly upon him again, twisting his arm so painfully behind his back that Vin feared it would snap. Then, Buck shoved him up against the wall. His hand came around Vin's waist, tugging at his long johns, easily pulling them free of his narrow hips. Then his fingers snaked around Vin's flaccid cock, squeezing the flesh as if he were milking a cow.

"Y'were here fer him," Buck accused, the words noticeably slurred. "Y'were gonna fuck him. Like ya fuck JD. Like yer gonna fuck me."

Buck tried to pump Vin's still limp dick as he pressed his weight against Vin's back, moving his hips up and down against Vin's ass. "Fuck me," he insisted.

The words in Vin's ear were a harsh whisper, a desperate plea, but all Vin could do was stand there, stunned by everything that was happening. The only words filling his mind were Chris's, sounding over and over, until they drowned out everything else: What in HELL is going on?!

Finally, Vin nodded his head. "Okay. Okay, Buck," he said, though he was having a difficult time catching his breath. "I'll ... fuck you." His voice sounded so small, so weak with defeat.

"Do it," Buck whispered in his ear, though he did not release Vin. Instead, Buck's hand slipped down Vin's cock to cup his balls, a little too roughly, even under normal circumstances, to be pleasurable.

"You want it hard and fast?" Vin asked, swallowing painfully, as Buck squeezed again. "Or nice and slow?"

"H-hard," Buck insisted. "Slowww."

Then Vin felt Buck ease off a bit, his hand releasing Vin's sac, passing once more over his limp cock before sliding around to his ass. Buck rubbed his hand roughly over the soft skin, then slipped his fingers into Vin's crack, moving them up and down.

"Haw-rd ... 'n' ... sl-slow," Buck repeated.

"Need you on the bed, Buck," Vin told him. "Need you lyin' down."

Buck nodded after a moment, finally releasing Vin and staggering toward the bed. Vin spun away from him, throwing himself to the floor and grabbing for his gun. He then rolled into a sitting position, with the barrel pointed straight at Buck, who was now lying on the bed. Vin held the gun on him as he waited for the man to react, but Buck did not move.

Slowly, Vin got to his feet. He took a single step toward Buck, nearly jumping when the man began to snore.

Vin then moved across the room, placing his gun on the dresser, but not taking his eyes off Buck. He pulled his long johns up over his hips again, this time fastening the drawstring, and then he slipped into his pants, boots, and shirt. He pulled on his jacket and then secured his gun belt around his waist. Finally, he grabbed his gun again, aiming once more at Buck as he neared the bed, though the man gave no indication of waking.

Vin picked the bedcovers up off the floor and tossed them on top of Buck. He unlocked the door, pulled it quietly open, and slipped out into the hall.

Beside the door, he saw something he hadn't seen when he'd arrived earlier — an empty bottle of whiskey. It was so out of place, Vin knew he wouldn't have overlooked it, which meant, it had to belong to Buck. And, from the man's behavior, Vin could only guess that Buck had downed most of the bottle right there in the hall, right before he'd entered Chris's room. That was the only way to explain why the alcohol had hit him so hard and so suddenly.

But, what did Buck want with Chris? He and Chris were old friends ... they went way back ... before Chris had ever met Sarah.... But, no, that didn't explain anything. Buck had bedded more women since arriving in this town than most men bedded in their entire lives. It just didn't make any sense.

So, what did Buck want with Chris? Had the cocksucking he'd received really been meant for Chris? No. It wasn't possible. Because, if it was, that would mean....

Vin quickly headed down the stairs and out into the street. Looking up, he could see the window of the clinic was dark. JD was undoubtedly asleep from too much excitement and a good dose of Nathan's laudanum. Not that Vin really wanted to see JD tonight, not after what had just happened.

No, there was only one person Vin wanted to see right now. Only one place he needed to be. Vin headed for the livery and, as soon as he saw the empty stall, knew his instincts were correct.

Less than half an hour later, he was reining up outside the small cabin. He swung himself out of the saddle and was hitching his horse to the railing when he heard Chris's voice.

"What the hell was that?" the gunslinger quietly demanded as he stepped out of the shack and onto the porch.

"Wasn't nothin'. That's what I come ta tell you. Ain't nothin' 'tween me and Buck. Never was, never is, and never will be."

"Then what were you two doing, because it sure didn't look like you were pitching horseshoes."

"Damn it, Chris. Figure it out. It was YOUR room. We were both there to see you. The lights were out. I didn't know it was Buck, Buck didn't know it was me. Gave us both a fright quick as we figured it out — my heart's still poundin'."

Chris sighed as he paced away from Vin, down to the far end of the porch. He turned but did not walk back; instead, he leaned against the railing. Silence hung in the air between them for a few long minutes.

Finally, Chris spoke. "This can't happen."

"It didn't," Vin protested. "Nothin' happened 'tween me and Buck—" but Chris interrupted him before he could explain everything all over again.

"Not the two of you. Us. You and me. We can't do this anymore, Vin. It's wrong. And it's over."

Vin quietly nodded his head, and then began to untie his horse. It just didn't feel over, not for him. As he removed the reins from railing, he felt Chris's hand on his. He looked up to meet dark eyes, unreadable in the dim moonlight.

"Why were you in my room tonight?" Chris asked, his voice hushed, barely audible above the gusty breeze now stirring the treetops.

"Same as always," Vin whispered back. "Pondered on what you said to me this afternoon ... figured you were tryin' to tell me you didn't wanna be alone tonight. Turns out, I didn't wanna be alone either. Hell, Chris, I still—"

Vin felt the man's fingers tighten around his own, pulling him close and chasing all thoughts from his mind. Then an arm wrapped around him and warm, sweet lips met his. The wooden railing dug painfully into Vin's stomach, but all he cared about was the feeling of Chris's lips against his own.

Long moments later, Chris pulled away just enough to say, "Unsaddle your horse, then come inside. We gotta talk." Before Vin could open his eyes, Chris was gone and he was alone again.

He quickly unhitched Peso and walked him to the corral that housed Chris's horse; he'd recently added an enclosure off to the side, which Vin entered. He topped the feedbags and made certain there was enough water for the two horses before he headed back to the cabin.

As Vin walked across the yard, he glanced upwards. A small tendril of smoke was being pulled from the stovepipe that served as a chimney. He noted the thickening clouds in the sky. There was a storm brewing, Vin knew; he could feel it. He just didn't know how bad it would turn out to be.

Soft, silent snowflakes drifted down from the gray clouds to blanket the small cabin in white. Inside, early morning light dimly filtered through the frosted windows, barely illuminating a small table topped by an empty, overturned whiskey bottle and two tin cups. A small, cast-iron stove radiated its warmth into the small room. A wreath of pine boughs hung forgotten from the knob on the door and from the pegs on the wall beside it hung two gun belts.

In the bed, beneath a goose-down, patchwork quilt, lay two souls. One was awake, staring at the rough-hewn planks of the ceiling as if trying to imagine they were made of the very snow that covered them.

With a deep contented breath, Chris finally turned his attention to his companion. He idly ran his fingers through the man's soft hair until blue eyes fluttered open.

"I used to have a little red rooster that'd wake me up on Christmas morning," Chris said quietly. "It just doesn't feel like Christmas without him." Vin rolled onto his side and placed his warm lips against Chris's in a deep, moist kiss. Then he pulled away, smiling. "I've got a cock that'll crow for you."

Chris raised his eyebrows in both surprise and question. Then he slid his hand beneath the covers, down the length of this companion's body.

"You wouldn't be hiding him down here, would you?" Chris's fingers brushed against firm flesh, releasing a small moan from the man beside him. "Could this be him?" he asked as he gently wrapped his fingers around the shaft, and then slowly stroked over the warm skin.

Vin closed his eyes as a wide smile played across his open mouth. Long, languid breaths began to fill his lungs with crisp morning air, and Chris could see a faint blush spreading over his naturally pale features. Vin scrunched his eyes tighter as Chris continued caressing his flesh while using his other hand to knead the coarser skin of his balls. Vin's breath was quickening and Chris knew his partner was enjoying every measure of attention being lavished upon him.

Chris reached down toward the floor, where a small clay pot sat; he lifted the lid, and then scooped out two fingers of lanolin. Then he threw back the covers before smearing the grease over the length of the man's flushed penis, slowly coating every inch. He reached back between his own legs and spread the residue over his tight hole.

He kissed Vin firmly, allowing his tongue to delve deep before sitting up and straddling his partner. Chris slowly lowered himself into position as Vin maneuvered his cock against Chris's hole. Chris breathed deeply, forcing himself to relax in order to take all of Vin's length inside. As Vin's flesh penetrated deeper and deeper, Chris could barely control the shudder that through over his body.

There was something about this man lying in his bed. Something so right. It wasn't like anything Chris had ever experienced in his life; as much as he loved Sarah, they'd never shared anything like this. It was as if Chris were empty without Vin here to fill him.

Once Vin's flesh was buried deep inside, Chris began to move his body up and down the long, firm shaft, reveling in the incredible sensations that filled him, that seemed to radiate directly from Vin's hardness through him, warming his cold and lonely body.

"Vin, I...."

"Shh, pard. Just let it happen."

Chris leaned down again and kissed Vin, slowly, allowing his tongue to graze Vin's, to taste the man's lips and mouth. He didn't think he could ever want anything more than this, didn't think he would ever need anything more.

"Merry Christmas, Vin," he said as he continued to move his body over Vin's, thrusting the man's cock deeply into himself until he felt Vin shudder beneath him.

"Cock's gonna crow, Chris," Vin managed to say between soft moans. "Must be Christmas day."

They were both breathing hard now, cutting off further conversation between them. Chris threw his head back first as a violent shudder lashed across his body. He shoved himself down hard onto Vin's cock, pulling up, and then pressing the man into him. Chris moved again, ramming Vin deep, until his loins began to erupt in nerve-shattering explosions. He shot cream-white cum onto Vin's belly as his entire body clenched and bucked against the spasming muscles.

On the edge of his ecstasy, he was still aware of Vin, his head pressed against the pillow, a broken cry torn from his lungs as he thrust sharply up, driving his erection deep in a maddening rhythm that Chris knew would rend them to pieces if the pleasure didn't kill them first.

Gasping for breath, Chris finally collapsed beside Vin; every nerve and fiber of his being was raw and on fire from their coupling. Vin wrapped his arms around Chris and squeezed, as if the cum he'd shot into Chris had failed to take with it all the pent-up tension in his body.

After a while, Vin carefully slipped out of Chris's arms, trying not to wake him. He pulled on his long johns, jacket, and boots before easing the door of the cabin open.

Outside, the ground was covered in white. He pulled his coat close as he breathed in the crisp, cold air. Everything was so brilliant: the sky a clear blue after the storm, the trees dusted with snow that sparkled in the early morning light.

Vin stepped off the porch and immediately sank ankle-deep into the snow. It was incredible. It rarely snowed this far south, and when it did, it was never this deep. The storm last night had been a fierce one, though Vin had barely heard it over the yelling he and Chris had done. Not that they'd solved anything. At least Vin now knew what the hell was going on with Buck.

Never would he have guessed that man's inclinations. Not after seeing him chat up the ladies so often or after the way Buck had reacted to catching him and JD that one time. However, he could see how the man might be confused; feeling something society and religion tells you isn't right is a hard thing for anyone to reconcile.

That still didn't justify Buck's behavior. Or his actions. The man had crossed a firm line last night, only Vin didn't know what he was going to do about it. He wasn't going to tell Chris, that was certain. Vin didn't know what Chris would do, and he didn't want to find out, but, beyond that, it wasn't his place to tell. If Buck felt like confessing to Chris, that was his business.

Vin made his way into the outhouse, slipped his long johns low in the front, then took his cock in hand. He sighed when he finished relieving himself, then he shook the tip dry before pulling his long johns up, over his now-cold skin. He bundled his jacket close as he headed back to the cabin.

Inside, he stripped, and then eased himself under the covers, again being careful not to wake Chris. They'd had a late, late night, and an early morning: Chris deserved to sleep. But, when he glanced over at the man, he found green eyes staring at him. Vin smiled, and then snuggled just a bit deeper into the pillow.

"Chris?"

"Hmm," the man answered with a lazy smile.

"You ever wonder who invented the pillow? What man thought it a good idea ta stuff hay or feathers inta a sack and tuck it beneath his head?"

This question made Chris laugh. "Reckon it was someone who lived a long, long time ago."

"That's too bad, 'cuz I'd sure like ta thank him," Vin said, smiling back.

"This from a man who thinks luxury is sleeping inside a wagon."

"Most men don't appreciate what they have 'til it's gone," Vin explained, though there was no bitterness in his voice. "I've never had much and what I did have, well ... I often didn't have it long. Guess I'm in the habit of appreciatin' what I have while I have it."

"Well, that certainly does explain a lot," Chris nodded. "But it still doesn't explain why you don't like Christmas."

Vin turned his head away from Chris. He didn't want to talk about this. Chris scooted up close behind him, slipping an arm over his waist, placing tender kisses in his hair and on the back of his neck.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Chris finally said.

Vin then pushed himself back against Chris's warm body. He wanted to be held closely, tightly. He hated thinking on it, though, in truth, the pain had faded over the years, to the point where he hardly felt it anymore. But he wanted to feel it; it was the only Christmas tradition he'd had year after year, and it was all he had left of his childhood.

"My ma died when I was a little feller..." he began, but quickly faltered.

"You were five, right?"

Vin nodded his head, surprised Chris remembered. "She'd been sick for a while ... I don't remember much, just her bein' in a lotta pain for too long. Sometimes she didn't even know me. But even seein' her hurtin' like that ... guess I was selfish ... I didn't want her to die, couldn't see it as a release from the pain. I know now that it was, but at the time...."

"No one wants to lose someone they love, Vin. And you were so young.... You needed her."

Vin nodded. He'd missed her so much for the longest time. "But it was Christmas. She died on Christmas day."

"Vin...."

He shrugged his shoulders. "After that, I got moved around a lot. And Christmas ... it was always the day she left me, the day I lost everything."

Vin allowed Chris to roll him over, bringing them face-to-face, and he allowed Chris to hug him. Vin pressed his cheek against Chris's bare chest and listened to his heart beating strongly.

He shouldn't need this. He wasn't a child anymore. But, no one had ever made him feel this safe, this secure — not since before his ma had gotten sick. Not anyone. Not until Chris.

He was quite content to continue lying in Vin's arms, lying in silence, listening to the snow melting with the rising sun, but the morning was quickly passing.

"Come on, we better get ready," Chris said.

"I think I'm just gonna stay right here, iffn you don't mind."

Chris watched as Vin snuggled deeper under the covers. "I don't mind, but I think Josiah might." Somehow, Mary had talked the former preacher into giving a sermon today, the first one in the renovated church. Chris heard Vin sigh, but the tracker made no move to rise. "Vin?"

Vin's hand snaked over and began to caress his thigh; Chris stopped him. They had to get going or they would be late. He wouldn't do that to Josiah.

"We have to go, Vin."

"You go. I'll be here when you get back." Vin smiled, but Chris didn't buy into the act.

He couldn't force Vin and he wasn't even going to try. Vin wasn't a child, after all; he could make his own decisions. Chris leaned over to place a kiss on Vin's brow, but Vin moved at the last moment and their lips connected.

The kiss was warm and moist. Chris felt Vin's arms gently encircle his neck, as his tongue shyly tasted his lips. Chris nearly lost himself, nearly fell deep for what Vin was offering. He could easily spend the morning in this man's embrace, snuggled beneath these warm covers, thinking of nothing outside the walls of the cabin.

But he realized that was probably Vin's intent. He pushed himself away, rolling out of bed.

"Stay here, then. I'll tell Josiah ... something."

"You don't need to make excuses for me," Vin said defensively.

"Wasn't planning to. You don't want to go, that's your business."

Vin just nodded, but there was no hint of a smile on his features as he looked away and stared up at the ceiling. Chris turned his back as he searched for where he'd left his undergarments. They were tossed over a chair. He slipped on the long johns and then the undershirt, before pulling on his cleanest pair of trousers. Then he opened one of the chest drawers, searching for his best shirt.

"Chris," Vin said quietly. When Chris turned around, Vin was kneeling at the foot of the bed, looking like he was freezing his bare ass off. He was digging through his saddlebag. "Here. Wear this."

Chris caught the shirt Vin tossed at him, and then stared at Vin's lithe, naked form as he crawled across the mattress and tucked himself back under the covers. Then Chris looked down at the shirt he held: it was bright red.

"You want me to wear this? To church? On Christmas?"

Vin nodded. There was no humor in his expression; this wasn't a joke.

"Why?"

"Just 'cuz. Be like I'm there with you, iffn yer wearin' somethin' of mine," he finally explained.

Chris had to wonder, though, if there wasn't more to it than that. He glanced back at the open drawer; it contained several clean shirts, two of which were the least worn of all he owned — they were both black. He would have chosen one of them; he would have worn black to Josiah's Christmas sermon. He wondered if Vin had guessed and if that was the real reason Vin had given Chris his spare shirt.

"How about you wear the red one, and I wear the dark blue one you had on yesterday?"

"Told you, I ain't goin'."

"Fine," Chris gave in. Then, before he put the shirt on, he held it up to his nose. He could smell a hint of soap and leather, but no trace of Vin's scent and Chris was a bit disappointed. But he pulled it on, not surprised that it fit; he wasn't much bigger than Vin and the tracker tended to wear his clothes a bit on the loose side.

When he finished buttoning the shirt, he held his arms out, waiting for Vin's approval. Vin just nodded. Chris stepped to the bed and leaned over. "I'll be thinking of you."

Vin reached up and pulled Chris down into a soft kiss, followed by a tender nibble on his lower lip. "I'll be wantin' you when you get back."

"Then I'll be back real soon."

When Chris arrived in town, he was surprised to find that he was early for Josiah's service. He decided to head upstairs to Nathan's clinic to look in on JD, but Buck saw him first and stopped him before he reached the stairs.

"Chris, I gotta talk to you."

"Can't this wait until later?" he asked. Chris wasn't ready to have this conversation with Buck. He didn't want to feel guilty for sleeping with Vin, but he couldn't deny the hypocrisy of the situation. "Josiah's gonna start his sermon real soon...."

"I know, but I gotta say this now."

Chris just nodded; he couldn't very well stand there making excuses. He followed Buck over to the jailhouse. The place was empty, which Chris figured Buck already knew.

Buck closed the door, then leaned against it, as Chris found a seat on the edge of the sheriff's desk. He waited. Buck had insisted on this, so he'd let the man have his say, however long it took him to say it.

"Last night ... I, uh, I came to see you ... I thought it was you ... I-I was ready...." Buck swallowed hard as he stared down at his feet.

Chris wished he had some whiskey — or maybe some coffee — to offer the man. Standing there, Buck Wilmington resembled a whipped yearling, and it hurt Chris to know he was at least partially to blame.

"It shoulda been you. I was ready to do what you asked, do for you what you've done for me. Only it was Vin. I didn't know. Not until ... until after I'd—"

Chris waited. His stomach was a hard knot, and he had a feeling he knew what Buck was driving at, though Vin hadn't said a word. Vin hadn't wanted it — he'd sworn there wasn't anything between him and Buck.

But had Buck wanted it? He'd kissed Vin that once, he'd admitted to it.

Did Buck even know what he wanted?

"Chris, I'm sorry. I-I didn't know he was gonna be there. He shouldn'ta been there...." Buck's voice was tight and, as he looked up, Chris could see the strain in the man's wide, blue eyes. "I was confused, angry ... drunk. I didn't mean it...."

"I know," Chris finally said when Buck failed to continue. "I know, Buck."

However, Chris still didn't know exactly what had happened. Vin had said there was nothing between them. Buck said he hadn't meant it. Neither statement made things any clearer. He needed to know what had happened, but how could Chris demand a straight answer from Buck? How, after he'd accused the man of infidelity with Vin and had then bedded the tracker himself? At best, he was a hypocrite; at worst, he'd look like a petty, jealous bastard. While he probably was all of those things, he didn't feel like admitting it to Buck today.

"Chris, I don't know how to fix this. Ain't something that's easily forgiven," Buck began again.

Chris knew the truth of the words — what he himself had done with Vin, what he'd allowed to happen last night, this morning.... He couldn't undo it. It was as bad, if not worse, than whatever Buck had done.

Buck and Vin had denied having feelings for each other, but Chris couldn't say the same. He had feelings for them both, deep feelings, feelings that sometimes pushed him toward the edge.

He ached for them, both of them, but — and Chris was trying to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to speak the words — he ached for Buck out of need, out of desires and urges not yet satisfied. The same couldn't be said for Vin; Vin satisfied Chris, every time they were together, and that made Chris ache even more.

"Things happen sometimes, Buck. Sometimes it's out of our hands to do anything about it. Even if you own up to it, take responsibility for it, doesn't mean that'll make it right."

Buck opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Ezra. Buck stepped aside and let him in.

"Um, uh, gentlemen? Excuse me. I don't mean to interrupt, but I do believe Josiah is about ready to get things under way. Yes, well ... I, uh, thought you might like to know."

"Thanks, Ezra," Buck said, not closing the door when Ezra tipped his hat and headed up the street. "Don't think we oughta be late for Josiah's big day."

Another missed opportunity to sort things through with Buck. Chris wondered if this would be their last opportunity. He was getting too old for this shit.

Without another word between them, Chris followed Buck out the door.

Vin made his way slowly into the church, which was packed with people; there wasn't an empty space on any pew in the house. Vin scanned the crowd for familiar faces. He immediately caught sight of the red shirt Chris was wearing. Vin's stomach clenched when he saw Buck seated there beside him. And, when Buck leaned close to Chris, Vin's stomach twisted; he took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that threatened to riot within him.

He looked away, scanning the rest of the church. Nathan and JD were seated near the front. Vin had sat with JD the night before, but they hadn't talked. Nathan had dosed him pretty heavily with laudanum, wanting the kid to rest as much as possible, knowing he would get little rest today. Vin still felt badly that he couldn't bring himself to talk to JD; he hadn't meant to say anything to anyone, but he'd broken down this morning and told Chris about his ma. It now seemed unfair to JD.

Nettie and her niece sat beside the kid; Casey was leaning over and chattering at him, looking like she was teasing him about something — not quite annoying him in the same way she used to. Vin liked Casey, but he felt a bit sorry for her because of the way she felt about JD; the kid wasn't quite capable of returning her affections, and she was too young to understand that what she was feeling wasn't really love — at least Vin doubted it was.

Toward the middle of the church, near the center aisle, sat Ezra. Vin was surprised to see that he had somehow managed to drag his sorry ass out of bed at this ungodly hour — as the southerner would undoubtedly term it — to sit and listen to Josiah's sermon. Beside Ezra sat Mary and Billy; Vin idly wondered if the newspaperwoman had had anything to do with Ezra's presence. She could be quite persuasive, and persistent, when she felt strongly about something.

Vin leaned against the jamb after the doors were closed behind him. He still wasn't sure he wanted to be here, but Josiah was his friend. It was a significant thing that the man had agreed to give this sermon. Former preacher, Josiah kept telling them all. Now just a carpenter with a gun, he'd insisted. Somehow, Mary had convinced him.

"There is no one else," she'd probably said. "There aren't any circuit preachers willing to travel this distance on a regular Sunday, let alone on Christmas." Which was true. Like it or not, Josiah had chosen to restore this church and that made him — by default, in the eyes of pretty much everyone, despite the gun he carried at his side — this town's minister.

Vin felt he needed to be here for his friend; for the man who'd willingly and skillfully watched his back; for the man who'd been there for him when it had come time to hunt down Eli Joe's gang; for the man who'd freely given him advice on many things since they'd known each other. Vin had endured pain for his friends before, pain worse and more immediate than this.

Ultimately, he didn't want to disappoint Josiah. However, that didn't mean he had to join the congregation. It didn't mean he had to trap himself in one of the pews, or even along one of the inside walls. No, he'd stand in the back. Josiah would see him there; he would know Vin had come to support him. It would have to be enough, because it was all Vin could give today.

Josiah stepped to the podium, setting a piece of paper upon it, and then looked up at the crowd. Vin met his eyes immediately and smiled; he could tell Josiah was nervous, and he wondered when the man had last given a sermon before so many people.

"Wel— uh, welcome," Josiah began a bit unsteadily. "This is the, uh, first service to, uh, to be held in this church — there's still a good deal more work to do.... However, today ... today is a special day: Christmas, the day the good Lord chose to send his Son to Earth, to us. Today, we have gathered here not for ourselves, but for Him, our Lord, our Savior, to thank Him, for all the blessings He has bestowed upon us, for all that He has given us throughout our years—"

Suddenly Vin found himself outside.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't stand there and listen to Josiah praising the God who had taken his mother from him. It wasn't that Vin felt angry — he didn't. He didn't think he ever had, not even when he'd been small; he'd only felt alone, abandoned. Now, Vin just felt hollow.

If only he could yell, scream out the pain and let it go, but he couldn't; he'd never been able to. It was something that simply sat deep inside of him, like a bit of undigested bread. Vin rarely ever noticed it, but today he couldn't seem to ignore it.

He hadn't cried in years, in ages, but he'd felt the tears welling up while he'd been standing there, listening to Josiah's resonant voice. Vin had found himself staring at the back of Buck's head, remembering what had happened last night, how the realization of Buck's intent had caused a deep fear, and how that fear had frozen him in place. For a moment, Vin had felt helpless, as helpless as he remembered feeling when he'd been pulled away from his mother bedside, never to see her again.

He sat down on the steps. He wanted to leave. He knew he should — he had a sinking feeling it would be best for everyone if he did — but his feet would not move. He couldn't even bring himself to retreat as far as his wagon, to hole up there until this day was over....

When the sermon finally ended, and the notes of the last hymn faded, Vin forced himself to his feet. He didn't want anyone to see him sitting on the steps; they'd ask questions he didn't feel like answering, questions that were none of their business, so he made his way around to the side of the church. He'd wait there quietly and then blend into the crowd as everyone was leaving.

As the townsfolk began to stream out of the building, Vin stepped forward, but then caught sight of Buck. Their eyes met and Vin took an unsteady step backward; his stomach knotted and a now-familiar fear washed over him as Buck made his way over.

"Vin, I gotta tell you how sorry I—"

"You EVER touch me again, Buck Wilmington ... I swear, I'll kill you," Vin growled low, his shaking hand resting on the butt of his gun.

"You gotta believe me. I never meant—" But when Buck reached out a hand, placing it on Vin's shoulder, Vin struck out, his fist connecting hard with the man's jaw. Buck spun, and then dropped, landing face down on the ground.

Vin's foot was instantly on top of Buck's back, pinning him down. Vin pulled and cocked his mare's leg in one fluid motion, placing the barrel against the base of Buck's skull. Vin's reaction had been so quick, so spontaneous, that he couldn't even recall having taken a breath.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by people. Josiah grabbed Vin from behind, pulling him off Buck, while Ezra disarmed him.

"What're you doing?" Nathan asked.

When Vin pulled his eyes away from the back of Buck's head, he saw JD standing in front of him. The kid's eyes were wide and his mouth was agape.

"Vin ... it's Christmas."

Vin couldn't believe what JD had just said. The stupid simplicity of it.

"As if Christmas fixes everything," Vin accused, and was angered when JD began to nod. "Because no one goes hungry on Christmas. No one's cold, or alone, or sick. And no one ... no one ~dies~. Because nothing bad ever happens on CHRISTMAS," he spat at the kid's innocent-looking face. Then Vin twisted out of Josiah's grip and snatched his gun from Ezra as he stalked away.

"Vin!" he heard the kid call after him, but it was Chris who appeared by his side moments later.

"Thought you were staying home," Chris said, not even trying to slow their pace as they continued to walk away from the church.

"That's your home. All I have's a wagon."

"You've got more than that. We all do."

Vin didn't answer. He didn't want to think about it. He'd thought about it too much for one day — one lifetime — already.

"Buck tried to tell me what happened last night," Chris said. "He thought you were me—"

"Yup."

Chris nodded. "So, why were you trying to kill him? It was just a mistake last night. Wasn't it?"

"He was drunk. Musta downed quite a bit of whiskey right before walkin' inta that room." Vin shrugged. "After you left—"

"You didn't?" Chris's voice held nothing but accusation. "You told me nothing happened."

"No, I didn't. I told you there was nothing 'tween me and Buck — and there ain't. But what he did last night...." Vin set his jaw. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. It was over. It was finished. Buck — a sober Buck — had been warned. Now there wasn't anything else to be done about it.

"I'll kill him, Chris. If he ever touches me again. I swear it."

"It isn't gonna happen again. Whatever happened. I promise," Chris said. "This whole thing has gotten out of hand. I'll talk to Buck, make sure he understands."

"Yeah, you do that," Vin said, but somehow he didn't think anything was going to change. Whatever was happening between him and Chris, whatever was going on with Buck, they didn't seem like easy things to sort out, not given how they'd all acted last night.

"I mean it, Vin. We can't do this anymore. It's gotta stop. All of it. I'm gonna go talk to Buck, and I suggest you talk to JD. It's over and I want everyone clear on that."

Vin stopped dead in his tracks.

Over. Just like that.

What they'd shared this morning, him and Chris, it wasn't love after all. It was what it always had been: easy comfort. He'd been a fool to think this man could give him anything he lacked, could fill voids created so many years ago. He was a fool to think anyone could.

"Fine. You want me to put an end to this, I will." Vin turned and headed back up the street.

He was still angry — angry with Buck, angry with JD, and now he was angry with himself. He knew better than to get this close to people. How many times did it take getting burned to learn not to stick your hand into a fire?

But, as much as Vin wanted to, he just couldn't be angry with Chris for trying to put out the flames.

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