A scream shattered the silence as the old Victorian Manor shook right down to its foundations. The wind howled through broken panes of glass and barely hanging shutters, screeching through the interior as horrific screams echoed through the dying wood. The walls expanded and collapsed as death came to the inhabitants who'd laughed and danced throughout the evening hours. Now as the hour of midnight grew closer that laughter was turned into terrified cries of pain and rage as a shadow grew to encompass the living structure. The walls pulsated as a crimson fluid ran from the spiral staircase and into the main room, drowning any who remained alive within its domain. Demons roared their anger at having their blood feast cut short by the escape of one soul.

A soul that should have been theirs, by right, by desire, but the fight had been lost and now they would have to wait for that soul, or another dark soul to journey within their walls once more. A banshee like wail emanated from the very bowels of the only room that remained alive, a cry that only blood could silence, but that blood would not come until the time was ripe and a new harvest began.

As silence once more took over and the walls continued to fold in upon themselves the faded sign swung on its hinges, crying out its name:

The Inn Of Lost Souls.

---

The town of Four Corners was a welcome sight to the two weary peacekeepers. However, not as welcome as the sight of the saloon at the center of town. By unspoken agreement they aimed Peso and Pony for the livery and turned them over to Yosemite. The liveryman would care for the horses as if they were his own.

Larabee and Tanner thanked the man and turned towards the drinking establishment they frequented with their friends. Chris thought about their first meeting and how many times they'd made this same walk since then. The sharpshooter had quickly become more than just a friend and he was grateful for the quiet man's company. He stretched the kinks out of his back and strode towards the saloon, knowing the younger man was right beside him. Home, he thought and didn't flinch at the idea.

Vin knew where they were headed without asking and smiled at the thought of the first drink they'd had in days. He caught sight of the gunslinger out of the corner of his eyes and didn't miss the sigh that escaped the older man's throat. Vin felt it too; this town had become something more than just a stopping off point in his own journey. Four Corners was a place where he had friends, six friends who protected his back the same way he did theirs. Home, he thought as they stepped through the batwing doors into the familiar surroundings.

They spotted three familiar forms at the back of the saloon and headed straight for the table, not surprised to find two glasses of whiskey poured and waiting for them.

Chris sank onto the hardwood chair and lifted the glass. He tipped it to dust covered lips and sighed contentedly as the fiery liquid burned a trail down the back of his throat. "Thanks, Boys," he said as he watched his traveling companion do the same thing. "How are things around town?"

"Quiet, has been for a few days now," Sanchez explained.

"Long trip?" Jackson asked as he took in the haggard faces of the two men. He knew his two friends needed to wind down after the last three hectic weeks. It began chasing bank robbers, joining a posse, and then delivering the two prisoners to the authorities at Yuma prison. The telegram arrived a few days after they'd left and the healer worried whether the two men would come back in one piece. Although they looked worn out, the former slave was pleased there were no new holes that needed tending. Also, no broken bones in need of setting; in fact, he was pleased by their return and seeming good health.

"Yeah," the tracker answered simply.

"Where're Ezra and Buck?" Larabee asked.

"They went to Jasper, Chris," Dunne answered as he refilled the empty glasses.

"Jasper?" Tanner drawled. "I can see why Buck'd go ta Jasper what with all them so called loose women, but what the hell's there for Ezra?"

"They're having a poker tournament there and we all know Ezra Standish and his penchant for gambling," Sanchez told them.

"Yeah, he does like a good game of cards," Larabee agreed and looked sideways at the tracker and wasn't surprised to see a mischievous twinkle in the sparkling blue eyes. "Wanna have some fun?"

"Hell, I like that," Tanner said of the devilish light in the green eyes, an evil grin on his face as he dropped the shot glass back on the table and stood up.

"Where are you two goin' now?" the healer asked as he watched Larabee stand beside the smiling tracker.

Larabee and Tanner looked at each other and then rested their gazes on the former stretcher-bearer as they answered in unison. "Jasper."

"Jasper. That's a good day's ride north of here and you two just got back! You need to rest!" Jackson blustered.

"Northwest of here," Tanner corrected. "We're not leavin' right now, Nathan, jest gonna get some sleep..."

"And leave at first light," Larabee finished for him. "I'm sure you boys can handle things around here for a few more days. Right JD?"

"Yeah, ain't much ta do except help clear the damn tumbleweeds from in front of Mrs. Potter's store," the young easterner answered. "I swear she stacks 'em there just ta give me somethin' ta do."

"She's just trying to keep you out of trouble, Son," the ex-preacher said with a grin.

"I don't get into trouble..."

"I ain't touchin' that one," Tanner said. "We'll see ya boys in about a week, depending on how much of Ezra's winnin's we can get him ta spend."

"And whether he's already used it up bailing Buck outta jail for lewd behavior," Larabee said. "Stay out of trouble, Kid," Larabee said as he headed for the doors, the sharpshooter beside him.

"Hey!" Dunne called indignantly. "Ain't no kid and I don't get in trouble." He frowned as the two men at the table joined the other two in laughter at his expense. He knew they were teasing and finally lost the fight to look mad as is own boisterous chuckle joined theirs. "It ain't funny," he tried again.

"Sure it is, JD," Jackson said as the three men stood up to leave.

---

Chris Larabee looked sideways at his traveling companion and smiled as the shaggy head turned his way. The two men were on their way to Jasper on the trail of Buck Wilmington and Ezra Standish. They'd returned to Four Corners the day before to find out the pair were headed to a poker tournament. Both men knew Standish was probably engrossed in the tables already, but Wilmington was probably testing the so called massage parlor the desert town was famous for.

"How're ya doin' Chris? Ya need ta rest those old bones of yers," the sharpshooter teased.

"Ain't much older than you, Tanner. My bones are doing just fine," Larabee told him and the two men lapsed into the comfortable silence they'd grown accustomed to. As they rode, sipping cautiously from their canteens, the leader looked forward to the upcoming water stop. They timed it so the stage depot would provide a brief respite from the intense heat.

The two peacekeepers dismounted and walked to the watering trough, allowing Pony and Peso to drink. Both men took in the surroundings and the stagecoach that was stopped in front of the single dwelling. The driver was talking to two women and was pointing to the wheel.

"Howdy, fellas," a grizzled old man stepped out of the small building and walked towards them. "What can I do fer ya?"

"Jest passin' through," Tanner told him.

"Where ya headin' fer, Jasper or Farmington?"

"Jasper," Larabee said simply, knowing those were the only possibilities in this direction.

The old man laughed as he smacked his hands on his knees. "Ya gonna try yer skills at the gamblin' or are ya takin' some talent upstairs?" he asked, eyebrows shifting up and down as his laughter turned into a harsh cough. "Damn sand's always makin' me choke!" he swore as he looked at the two men. "So which is it?" He watched the two strangers and instantly realized they would not be giving him an answer. "Hell, ain't pryin' inta yer affairs, Boys, just always been a man with too much time on my hands and I ain't got the sense ta keep my yap shut! Go on inside and grab yerself somethin' ta eat if'n yer hungry."

The gunslinger looked at the older man and answer. "Thanks..."

"Grady."

"Grady, we're not hungry, but I'd appreciate a chance to fill our canteens before we move on," Larabee said as Tanner flipped the reins over the hitching posts.

"Yer more'n welcome ta fill 'em up, Boys. I got me some things ta do fer Tom before he leaves fer Farmington so just let me know if'n I can help ya with anythin'."

"We will. I'm gonna see what kind've supplies they got, Chris," Tanner said as he walked towards the office. He stepped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. A lone man sat at the table and the shrewd tracker kept his eyes diverted as he studied the stranger. There was something about the way he sat with his back to the wall and his eyes shifting back and forth from the door to the tracker. Vin moved to the counter, but kept watching the other patron as the man stood up and walked out of the room. He knew the type and wondered if this man had a price on his head.

Chris watched as a man exited the building and walked towards the stagecoach. Something about him didn't set right with the gunslinger and he leaned heavily against the hitching post as he watched the man's movements. The newcomer stood approximately six feet tall and red hair stuck out from underneath a wide brimmed hat. The man stopped halfway to the stage and turned to face him, but Chris didn't look away from the heated glare.

"If'n yer comin' ya'd best climb aboard now," the driver of the stage called.

Chris watched the man for a few minutes and knew there was something about him he didn't like. His instincts had saved his life many times and he knew when to listen to them.

Grady waited for the newcomer to climb into the stage before he closed the door. "All right, Tom, they're all yers!"

"Thanks, Grady, see ya in a couple of weeks."

"Just make sure ya don't ferget that bottle of whiskey ya owe me."

"Ain't much chance of that what with you puttin' that paper in my pocket. Watch yerself out 'ere."

"Always do, Tom," Grady said as he moved back and watched the stage pull out of the yard. He turned towards the man standing beside the horses. "Ya sure I cain't int'rest ya in a bowl of stew. May not be the best tastin', but it's fresh and hot."

Chris knew the old man led a lonely life in the middle of the badlands and felt sorry for his earlier refusal. He looked up to see the tracker standing in the doorway and smiled at the almost imperceptible nod of the shaggy head. "Well, now, Grady, you just said the magic words. Hey, Vin, looks like we'll be eating here instead of on the trail."

"Ain't gonna argue with that, Pard. Hell, it'll be good ta eat somethin' that ain't charred," Tanner said as he turned his gaze on Larabee.

"It wouldn't be charred if you cooked it yourself, Tanner."

"Come on you two before we end up eatin' charred stew," Grady told them, a smile on his face as he remembered an old friend he treated the same way.

Thirty minutes later, their stomachs full, their thirst sated the two men mounted up and thanked the stationmaster before following the trail north. Without realizing it both men were thinking about the man at the depot and the stage he was riding in.

Vin turned towards his riding companion and wasn't surprised to see Larabee looking at him. "Did ya see that fella at the depot?"

"Yeah, hard to miss him. He didn't look like the trustworthy type."

"I was just thinkin' the same thing. Think maybe we outta go after the stage and maybe ride along with them fer a while?"

"Yeah, I was kind've thinking the same thing. Grady said it was headed for Farmington, right?"

"Yeah," Tanner said and the two men picked up the pace in order to catch the stage.

They rode for approximately twenty minutes when Chris suddenly pulled Pony to a stop. Vin instinctively pulled Peso up beside him and watched as Larabee dismounted.

"What's wrong?"

Larabee lifted the gelding's right foot and frowned. "Looks like he's picked up a stone."

"Damn!" Tanner swore, his instincts telling him they needed to hurry. There was something niggling at the back of his mind and he knew it had to do with the stagecoach.

"It won't take me long to get it out, Vin, but I think you'd better get after that wagon."

"Ya feel it too?"

"Yeah, something about that man just doesn't set right."

"Ya sure yer okay?"

"Vin, I've dug stones out before," Larabee said in exasperation. "You need to get moving before it's too late. I won't be far behind you."

"Alright," Tanner agreed as he turned away.

Larabee looked up as the tracker eased Peso forward. "Vin," he called and waited for the shaggy head to turn his way. "Watch your back."

Tanner smiled at the concern on Larabee's face. "Thought that was yer job, Cowboy," he said as he raced away.

Chris stood for a few moments watching his friend ride northwards and silently prayed they were wrong about the man who boarded the stage at the depot. He turned his attention back to Pony and removing the tiny stone that had jammed itself in the shoe.

Help us!

Chris' head snapped up as a soft breeze floated over him, tickling at his spine, and raising the hair on the back of his neck. He was sure he'd heard a tiny voice whispered on the breeze. "Is somebody there?" he asked and looked around at the wide-open expanse of desert. He glanced towards the northeast as a shiver of dread ran through his body. Vin, he thought and finished the job at hand before mounting Pony. He knew only fifteen minutes had passed since Pony had come up lame, but something told him he was already too late. He rode hard, unaware of the sands of time whipping into a frenzy around the area he'd just vacated.

---

Vin pushed Pony harder than he normally would have, knowing in his heart he was already too late. He spotted the stagecoach ahead of him, shimmering in the heat from the brilliant orb overhead. He heard screams as he raced towards the scene and again picked up the pace. He saw the man with the red hair dragging something towards a low clump of scrub brush and hurriedly dismounted beside the stage. He spotted a young girl huddled in the far corner of the stage, her hands clenched tightly in front of her mouth as scream after scream left her throat. The driver's body hung over the side of the coach, blood dripping from his hair and the fingertips of his right hand.

"Are ya okay, Miss?" the tracker asked as he placed a foot inside the stage. He guessed the child's age to be around eight or nine and he tried not to scare her more than she already was.

"Pl...ease," the young girl cried as she bit the knuckles of her left hand. "Help Aunt Fran...he t...took her."

Tanner remembered seeing the man dragging something towards the brush and he nodded to the girl. "Stay put!" he warned as he raced towards the brush just as a blood-curdling scream erupted from behind them.

---

Chris could see the stagecoach in the distance and knew his and Tanner's instincts were right. Pony's leg was fine and the steadfast animal heeded his rider's instructions. The gelding's long legs ate up the hard packed earth in an effort to reach their destination as quickly as possible.

---

Vin pushed aside the brush in time to see the red-haired man bury a long blade between the woman's exposed breasts. "NO!" he screamed as he used his body as a missile and tackled the man.

Vin fell in a heap, just to the right of the woman and grunted as pain flared in his back. He ignored the signs of injury as he felt someone move beside him. He climbed to his feet just as the attacker made it to his own, the weapon he'd used on the woman held in front of him.

"Ya bastard, ya'll pay fer that!" the man snarled as he whipped the knife from one hand to the other.

The tracker glared at the murderer and knew he'd need to keep his wits about him. The man didn't seem very skilled, but the blade in his hand gave him the upper hand.

"What's the matter, halfbreed?" he hissed as he saw his foe's long hair. "Ya afraid of ol' Jim. Ya'd better be cause I's plannin' on taking me some breed scalp!"

Vin shifted to the left as his nemesis slashed the blade towards him, barely avoiding the razor sharp instrument. But the sharp turn twisted his back even more. He winced as he righted himself and knew the other man had seen it.

"Hurt are ya? Well this here's gonna hurt even worse when I sink it into yer gut," he slashed again, and smiled as he saw a thin line of blood on his enemy's left arm. "Gonna leave ya ta bleed all over the ground while I take me pleasure on the other young lady..."

"Ya fuckin' animal," the tracker hissed as his anger over the man's words grew to the boiling point. He let his instincts take over and used everything he'd learned from the Comanche to bring him down.

---

Chris dismounted in front of the stage, the smell of blood assaulting his senses as he spotted the dead driver. "Vin!" he shouted as he looked into the coach. Goddammit! he thought as he saw the terrified child. "Miss, I'm gonna help you. Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice soft and calm as he tried to get through to the sobbing girl.

The girl moved away from him, curling up in the seat in an effort to get away from the newcomer. "N...NO!" she screamed and struck out at him, her small hands flailing as she tried to escape.

Chris knew Vin could handle himself, and that the child needed to be taken care of before he could search for his friend. Larabee climbed into the stage and reached for her hands. She flinched away and he knew he had to be careful of the traumatized victim. Her eyes were opened to complete circles, yet he knew they were not seeing him.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. My name's Chris. What's yours?"

Again she tried to hit him, harsh sobs escaping her parched throat as she struck out at whatever horror she was seeing. He reached behind him for the canteen sitting on the seat and opened it. He smelled the contents and was relieved that it held only water and he took a small sip. He saw her terrified eyes flick between him and the canteen and held it out to her.

"Would you like some?"

He wasn't surprised when it was snatched from his hands and the child drank greedily. Her eyes never wavered from his face as her arms dropped down to her sides and more cries erupted from the small body. Chris reached out and took her hands as the canteen dropped to the floor.

"Are you hurt?" he asked as he looked over her shaking form.

Mindy's eyes glazed over as her horrific experience replayed before her.

"NO! Au...Aunt Fran...No! No! Do...don't take my aunty...don't hurt her...No!" her screams turned into soft sobs as she tried to shut out everything she'd seen, but her wayward arms continued to strike out at anything within reach.

The gunslinger knew who the girl meant and he looked at her as he reached for her hands once more. "You can trust me, Honey, I won't hurt you. Okay?"

Something about the soft tones and the warm eyes told the child she had nothing to fear from this man.

"O...kay," she sniffed, her shoulder rising and falling with each terrified breath.

"What's your name?"

"M...Mindy Lawrence," she said and began sobbing harder. "Please, help A...Aunt Fran, he's g...gonna h...hurt her b...bad. Said he w...was going to c...come get m...me when he was d...done!"

Larabee flinched as another scream erupted and pulled her close, feeling the horrific tremors that ran through her body. He ran his hands through her soft brown hair and held her close.

"It'll be alright," he said and looked out the window towards the brush.

Chris ran his hands through her mousy brown hair and held her close. "It'll be alright," he said as he looked out the window towards the brush. He felt her go limp in his arms and checked her throat. He felt a pulse, a little fast, but there and he placed her back on the seat. He knew she'd be safe until he returned and he hurried to make sure the horses pulling the coach would not be able to take off. He secured them to a thick dead branch and raced towards the sound of a scuffle behind the brush.

---

Vin circled the man, his back getting worse as he moved to avoid the blade. He knew his enemy was weakening and frustrated in spite of the knife in his hand. Vin continued to avoid the slashing blade and inflict a punch here or a kick there and the man snarled as he lashed out once more. The fight was going the way the sharpshooter wanted in spite of the pain shooting through his back.

James Clark was tiring, but he knew to give in would mean a trip to the gallows and he wasn't going to give in willingly. He slashed sideways with the knife, not really expecting to hit anything, but surprised as his enemy lost his balance and fell backwards over a dead branch. Before the younger man had a chance to react he pounced, landing heavily on the tracker, straddling him and lifting the blade over the dazed man.

"See ya in 'ell!" he screamed as he lifted the blade over his head.

Chris Larabee's blood ran cold as he heard the unfamiliar voice scream See ya in 'ell. He knew instinctively Vin Tanner was in trouble as he parted the brush and moved into the clearing. His eyes quickly took in the body of the woman and the life and death struggle going on a few feet from where he stood.

"Vin!" he shouted as he saw the knife poised over the exposed throat of his best friend. The black clad man proved why he had a reputation as a deadly accurate gunslinger as he pulled his colt.

Clark's blade began its descending arc.

Larabee's gun cleared leather and Chris realized he couldn't get a clear shot of the man's body for fear of hitting the struggling sharpshooter.

The sun glinted off the razor sharp weapon.

A steady hand rose and aimed the gun at the hand wielding the knife.

The knife raced towards the vulnerable throat.

Larabee's finger depressed the trigger and Clark screamed as a bullet struck the blade and knocked the knife from his hands. He scrambled towards the weapon, but the gunslinger's icy voice stopped him where he knelt. "You'll be dead before your finger touches it!" he snarled.

James Clark stared at the man dressed in dark clothing and felt fear take up residence in his body. He knew this man was not the type to give idle threats and he sank back to the ground. He wasn't a smart man, but he knew he needed to find a way out of the mess he was now in.

"H...he attacked me. I found 'im murderin' that w...woman!" he stammered.

"That right?" Larabee asked as he watched his friend's eyes finally focus.

"Ye...yeah...said he's gonna kill that other one too," he said, hoping he could convince the newcomer he was telling the truth, but the gunslinger's next words quickly dashed those hopes.

"That right, Vin. Did you attack this asshole?"

"Fuckin' right I at...attacked the b...bastard!" Tanner's voice was laced with pain as Larabee knelt beside him.

"Think you can keep him covered for a few minutes."

"...like lickin' butter offa knife!" he said accepting the gun.

Larabee looked at the man seated on the ground and smiled as he saw the thin rope that was holding up the man's ruined pants. "Take off your belt!" he ordered.

"Wh...wha' fer?"

"Vin!"

Tanner smiled as he eased back on the trigger.

"O...okay," Clark held his hands up before undoing his belt and pulling it from his pants.

"Throw it over here," the gunslinger ordered and smiled as the object dropped beside him. "Now turn around." The man did as he was told and Larabee pulled the arms roughly behind his back and wrapped the rope tightly around his wrists.

"Hey yer cuttin' off my circulation!"

"That's the least of your worries," the gunslinger hissed as he shoved the man back to the ground. "They'll be cuttin off the circulation to your head as soon as your trial is over. Now shut up before I gag you too."

Clark grew quiet and swallowed painfully, as he realized the black clad man was right.

He walked back to the sharpshooter and realized he was still lying where he'd been when he handed him the gun. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Jest fine!" the sharpshooter hissed, frustrated that he'd been unable to subdue Clark.

"Want a hand up?"

Blue eyes flashed dangerously as they met green and Tanner's frustration came out in the tone of his voice and the heated words.

"Said I's fine, Lar'bee!'

Chris raised his hands in front of himself, his own short temper showing as he hissed "Fine! Suit yourself!" He took his gun from Tanner's hand and covered Clark as he waited for his friend to make it to his feet. He smiled as he listened to the muffled curses from his friend.

"Lie down on your belly and don't move!" Larabee ordered and Clark quickly complied. He turned back to his friend, crossed his arms on his chest, and smiled at the look on the dust-covered face.

"Shut the hell up, Larabee!" the tracker hissed as he raised his arm for help.

The gunslinger's eyebrows rose in amusement as he looked at his friend. He knew Tanner wasn't seriously hurt, but he could see pain in the eyes, yet the sharpshooter hated admitting he needed help. Larabee also knew they needed to keep things light or what they'd witnessed would fester and Clark might not make it to Farmington.

"Are you asking for my help, Tanner?"

Vin searched the area, but didn't see anything that might help him stand and finally glared up at his friend. "'Dammit t'hell, lar'bee..."

The blond grinned from ear to ear as he reached for the injured man's arm. "All you had to do was ask," he said.

"Never needed any fuckin' help b'fore," he snarled as he rubbed at his lower back.

"Must be getting old," Larabee said and again received a deadly glare from the younger man. "Are you okay?" The gunslinger asked as he took Tanner's bandana and wrapped it around the shallow wound in his arm.

"I'm f...fine," the tracker answered, knowing the question wasn't in jest this time. He turned towards the woman and asked. "Is she..."

Larabee walked over and checked the woman's body. He knew she was dead as he looked into unseeing eyes. Why? he asked as he closed the lids and removed his duster, covering her upper body with it before returning to the sharpshooter. He looked towards the tracker and shook his head.

Tanner ignored the pain in his back as he strode towards the prone man. He grabbed the murderer by the neck and pulled him to his feet. "I oughta show ya the way a Comanche takes care of people who hurt women and children!" He struck the hated figure in the face and watched as he dropped to the ground. He felt a hand on his arm and looked into the green eyes of his best friend.

"The bastard will pay for what he's done, Vin," Larabee insisted.

"The girl?" Tanner asked.

"She's okay. A little shook up, but she said he never touched her."

"Good thing," Tanner said and turned back to the prisoner. "'Cause if ya had I woulda cut off yer balls and shoved 'em down yer fuckin' throat!"

"Ya cain't do that..."

"Wanna bet?" Larabee asked. "Shut up or I'll give him the knife and hold ya down for him!"

"But..." Clark shut up when the gunslinger reached for the knife lying on the ground.

"That's better," Tanner hissed. "Now get on yer feet!"

The three men made their way back to the stagecoach and made Clark sit behind it, in order to save the girl from seeing him.

Chris watched the sharpshooter's stiff movements and hoped Farmington had a doctor. The town was closer than Jasper and he knew it was the best bet for help. "Vin, I'm gonna check on the girl, before I bring the woman's body. "Are you okay to watch him?"

"Y...yeah. I'm fine, Chris. Jest make sure the girl stays put."

"I will," Larabee said. He moved towards the door of the stagecoach and stepped inside. He touched the still unconscious girl and waited to see if she would wake up. He stepped out of the coach and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"She's still out, Vin," he said as he reached for the blanket on top of the coach. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes." The shaggy head nodded once and Larabee frowned at the lines of pain on the younger man's face. Here," he said as he pulled the younger man's canteen from Peso's saddle and passed it to his friend. The gunslinger turned away, took Pony's reins, and led him towards the brush.

"Thanks," Tanner said as he kept watching the prisoner. He took off the cap and tipped it towards his mouth.

"Ain'tcha gonna gimme some?" Clark whined.

Vin looked at the man, disgust and anger on his face. "Jest sit there and shut up!" The tracker winced as he reached around and again rubbed at his lower back. The pain that had earlier been annoying was quickly becoming unbearable, but he could not show any weakness in front of this animal.

"Ain't no way ta treat a man..." Clark started, but a hand quickly snapped out and grabbed him by the collar.

"Yer not a man!" the sharpshooter's voice dripped venom as he glared at the murderer. "An' I might jest give ya a whole new meanin' fer the word breed! Ya got that?

"Yeah, yeah," Clark stammered as he was dropped heavily to the ground.

Vin stood over him for a few minutes, his eyes filled with deadly intent as his prisoner stayed down. He straightened his back once more and bit his lip as it caused a deep ripple of pain to course threw him. He had no idea how long he stood there, fighting back the encroaching darkness, but was shocked when he heard Larabee's voice close beside him. He turned to see a blanket covered body draped over Pony's saddle and shook his head at the violent loss of life.

The gunslinger couldn't help but see how pale his friend was and asked worriedly. "Vin, you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, just twisted my back a little," Tanner assured him.

"Well you just stay there while I get things ready. Faster we get to Farmington the faster that piece of dirt is in jail." And you get to see a doctor, he silently vowed.

"I can help ya..."

"Yeah, you can. By watching him and making sure he stays put!"

"Hey, he threatened me!" Clark whined.

"You're lucky that's all he did! Now shut the fuck up!" the gunslinger warned. "Think you can ride in the stage and keep an eye on him?"

"What about the girl and the driver?"

"Figure the girl can ride up top with me while you and that piece of trash ride inside. I can put the driver's body on Peso."

"Peso ain't gonna be happy!"

"I know, but there's no other way," he looked down at the prisoner. "Unless we tie him to the back of the stage and make him walk," Larabee's eyebrows rose as he looked at his friend.

"It'd slow us down!"

"Ya cain't do that!"

Larabee and Tanner looked heatedly down on him and hissed in unison.

"SHUT UP!"

"But..." his words were shut off as Larabee tore a strip off his shirt and shoved the material into Clark's mouth.

"Thanks, Chris, I was ready ta shoot the bastard!"

"Anytime. You gonna be all right for a few minutes?"

"Am now, ain't gotta listen to 'im spoutin' garbage anymore," Tanner said as he turned his attention back on the prisoner.

Larabee moved away from the two men, retrieved his canteen from Pony, and walked to the door of the stage. Mindy Lawrence was just waking up and he slid in beside her. He watched as deep brown eyes opened and looked pleadingly at him, tears forming in them and sliding down her cheeks.

"Aunt Fran?" she asked as she recognized the face before her.

Larabee shook his head and cradled her in his arms as the tears fell from her eyes and heavy sobs wracked her body. He held her until her body was still in his arms and lifted her chin until she looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Honey," he said as he saw the fear in her eyes. He held the canteen to her mouth and watched as she drank a couple of mouthfuls before pushing it away.

"Wh...where is he?"

"He can't hurt you anymore. My friend has him tied up outside and we'll take him to Farmington."

"That's where we were go....going," she hiccupped and he nodded his head.

"I know and we'll make sure you get there. Do you have family there?"

"N...no. Aunt Fran was taking me back home to Nana's house in St. Louis. Ma and Pa died in a raid on our farm and they said I'm t...too y...young to s...stay th...there on my o...own. I don't know how I'm gonna get to Nana's now."

"Don't worry, Mindy, we'll find a way to get you to your Nana. Now how would you like to ride up top with me?"

"He killed the driver," she said softly.

"I know he did, but he won't hurt you! You have my word on that. Okay?"

"O...okay," she said as he passed her the canteen once more.

"You just sit here for a few more minutes and I'll tell you when I want you to come out." He smiled as she nodded his head and he slipped back outside. It took nearly half an hour to secure the driver to Peso's back and make sure the horses were tied to the back of the stage. Once he was done he turned back to his friend.

"Vin, keep him out of sight until I get Mindy out."

Tanner nodded and watched his friend move to the side of the stagecoach. "Don't make a sound!" he warned the prisoner.

"Okay, Mindy, Let's get you up top. Put your bonnet on so the sun won't be too hot."

"Okay, Chris," the girl said as she slipped her bonnet up over her hair and tied the ribbon under her neck. She accepted his hand as he led her from the coach, steering her away from where Vin held the prisoner. He lifted her into the seat and smiled as he climbed up beside her. He looked over the top of the stage and shouted.

"Okay, Vin."

Tanner signalled for Clark to get up and led him to the open door of the coach. "Git down on the floor!" he ordered and shoved the man forcefully. He used the rope he'd taken from Peso to secure the mans ankles and the tied them to the seat in order to stop him from lashing out with his feet. He slid into the seat, relieved as it took some of the pressure off his back.

"You ready, Vin?" Larabee asked.

"Yeah," the tracker shouted as he slammed the door of the stage and reached for the canteen.

"Mindy, my friend is back there," Larabee explained as he flicked the reins and started the horses forward. "His name is Vin Tanner and if you get too hot or too tired to ride up here anymore you just let me know and we'll change places. Okay?"

"I wanna stay with you, Chris," the girl said as she slid closer to him, seeking comfort in his presence.

Larabee smiled as she leaned in closer and he wrapped his arm around the trembling form. He knew she was close to tears again and he hoped she'd be okay until they reached Farmington. "Would you like to help me?" he asked.

"Help you?"

"Drive the horses," he said and saw some of the fear disappear from her eyes.

"Really?"

"Sure. Just hold onto the reins with me. When we need to turn you just pull the reins in that direction," he explained and showed her how to tug on the lines. He felt her relax against him and smiled as she tugged gently on the reins and the horses obeyed her commands. He heard her soft giggle and was glad he'd gotten her mind of her problems if only for a short time.

Help us!

Chris looked around and frowned as he heard the two words repeated and again a whisper of a breeze flickered over him. He felt the girl move beside him, but realized she hadn't heard anything. He glanced around the eerie desert, but the call for help was not repeated.

Vin relaxed against the hard seat, knowing he'd feel every bounce of the coach as they rode towards Farmington. He kept checking the prisoner's ropes to make sure there was no way he'd get them undone. He sucked in a deep breath as the wheels went over a particularly deep rut. "Shit!" he hissed and stretched taut muscles as he heard laughter from Larabee and the girl. Where the hell's yer flask, Lar'bee? he thought, knowing the rest of the ride would be misery for him.

---

Buck hardly saw Ezra during the two days they'd been in Jasper. So far they'd been moving in separate circles. While Ezra made his luck at the poker tables, Buck Wilmington made his own luck. The best kind, soft curves covered in satin and ruby lips teasing him.

The scoundrel lay back against the soft pillows as two sets of hands massaged his body. His eyes were closed but he felt a glass held to his lips and he sipped at the delicious wine. He licked his lips and smiled contentedly as the hands returned.

"Ah, Darlin'... I'm thinkin' I've died and gone to heaven 'cause there's no way those hands belong to anyone but a pair of angels," Wilmington said as he opened his eyes and looked from one beautiful face to the other. Amanda and Ariana were identical twins and the two women were more than willing to share their delight in this man.

"And there was never a more beautiful pair of angels!" Wilmington said as he kissed a set of ruby red lips and turned as the other set of hands pulled him away.

"I bet you say that to all the girls, Bucky," Ariana said as her sister poured scented oil into the palms of her hands.

"Yeah, Bucky, how many women have you used your charms on?" Amanda pouted.

"Ah, hell, I assure you ladies, ol' Buck's got enough to go around," Wilmington said, sipping at the glass of wine Amanda held to his lips.

"Is that right, Sugar," Ariana asked as she rubbed the oil over his bare chest and throat.

"That's right, Darlin' just ask any of the ladies...Shit!" he hissed as he realized he'd said too much. Wilmington had grown up in a brothel and understood how rough this life could be, but once in a while he forgot and paid the price. This was no exception as a glass of cold water was dumped in his lap.

"Ah, Hell, that was cold!" the ladies' man hissed.

"Well, Bucky, maybe you can find someone to warm you up. Maybe that little Carrie is willing to share her bed with you again," Amanda said as she pulled him out of the bed. "Me and Ariana have decided we need to use our talents on someone who appreciates us for our finer attributes."

Buck shivered as he stood naked before the two women and reached for his clothes. His head spun and he shook it in an effort to clear the cobwebs. He now understood why they were upset with him. Somehow they'd found out about his tryst with the feisty redhead down the hall.

"What's wrong, Bucky, can't handle your wine?" Ariana smiled as she watched the big man sit back on the bed.

"Ah, hell, ladies, what did you do?" he asked as they lifted his legs on the bed.

"Don't you worry, none, Darlin, you just go on to sleep and things will look just fine in the morning." Amanda giggled as she rubbed his chest and tweaked the hairs there.

"Yeah, everything will be hangin around just waitin' for you to wake up," Ariana whispered in his ear.

"No hard feelin's, Bucky," Amanda said as she ran her fingers across his forehead.

"That's it just sleep," Ariana ordered.

---

Buck was slow in waking, his body not wanting to move, yet nature called and the urge was beginning to get painful. He forced his eyes open, regretting the move immediately as the light stabbed at his eye.

What the hell did I do last night? he thought as he peeled his eyelids open. He looked around the unfamiliar room and finally remembered where he was and whose room he was in.

"Ah, Hell!" he groaned as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He ran the fingers of his right hand through his hair and looked around. He groaned at the pain the movement caused. He stood up and grabbed onto the post at the head of the bed and smiled.

"So you ladies like to play rough?" he said, remembering how the single glass of wine had been his downfall. He hopped around the room in search of his clothing, groaning as he realized there wasn't a single article of clothing in the room, even the bedding and towels had been taken away.

"Oh, I owe you ladies," he said when he glanced out the window. There was no doubt that the clothing strung across the street was his. He stuck his head out the window and tried to reach his longjohns, but they were just out of his reach. He looked down as soft giggles sounded from below the window.

"I hope you're not bashful, Bucky, you see we think the ladies would love to see your assets running down the hall," Ariana said.

"Ah, come on, Ladies, you're not really going to make me go out there like this." He laughed, but wasn't sure if these two were serious or not.

"Ah," Amanda said, smiling up at the ladies man. "We are serious, Buck!"

"Yes, there's nothing more fun than seeing you run through the street buck naked!"

"Ah, Hell, ladies," he said. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Ah, don't worry, Stud," Ariana smiled innocently at him. "Help is on the way."

"Help?"

"That's right, and she should be arriving right about now," Amanda told him.

"Damn!" Wilmington hissed as a knock sounded on the door and the door was slammed open

"You ladies don't play fair!" he said and tried to find something to cover himself.

"Oh, Bucky, we play to win," the twins said in unison, their laughter floating to his ears as the ladies man placed his hands in front of his private area.

"My girls tell me ya might be interested in something I own." The woman standing in the doorway was large framed, her red hair pulled back in a tight bun, her dressing gown clung like a second skin to her ample body.

Buck felt the heat rise in his cheeks as the woman's hazel eyes raked over his bare body. Her left arm was behind her body and he knew she was holding something in her hand. He hoped it was something he could wear, but something told him whatever it was would probably heighten the color already seeping into his cheeks.

"What would that be, Ma'am?" he asked and moved to pull the small table in front of him as the woman came into the room.

"Well they said you were in need of something to cover that luscious body of yours."

"Ah, hell," Buck said as the woman held her offering out to him.

"I'm afraid this is all we have to spare, but I'm sure you will fill it out nicely," the woman said.

"Damn, I mean...ah, Ma'am, I don't think..."

"It's all I have," the woman said, her eyes raking over the handsome man standing before her.

"Can't you ask one of the men for a..."

"Oh, well, I guess you'd rather leave the room the same way as you came into the world," she laughed as she turned her body, but not her face away from him. "I look forward to you parading through..."

"Damn!" the scoundrel swore as he saw his only hope walking away. "I'll take it!"

The woman turned back and placed her hands on her hips. "What was that, Bucky?"

He knew she was not going to make this easy for him and again the heat rose to his cheeks as he crouched down behind the table.

"I'll take it, Ma'am," he repeated.

"Well, maybe I've changed my mind about giving it to you," she said with a grin, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Ah, hell..."

"Maybe if you asked nicely..."

Buck swallowed his pride and smiled sweetly at the woman.

"Please, Ma'am."

"Please, Ma'am, what?"

"Please, ma'am, can I have that..."

"Nightgown."

"Nightgown," Wilmington knew the twins were getting him back tenfold and there was nothing he could do to recover his dignity. He thought of all the times he'd been able to put one over on others, always in jest, and he realized this was the same thing, only in reverse. He finally gave into the laughter he'd felt building since seeing the dressing gown covered in large red flowers, high red collar, and a big crimson bow at the back. He stepped out from behind the table and bowed to the woman.

"May I borrow your gown, Ma'am?" he asked and lifted his head to her high-pitched laughter.

"Lordy, Bucky, my girls don't know what a charmer they're giving up!" she exclaimed as she tossed the gown high in the air

Buck grabbed for the gown, leaving himself unprotected from gawking eyes.

"Oh, my, if I was only a few years younger," she said wistfully.

"I don't think I'd be man enough for ya, Ma'am." The scoundrel winked as he wrapped the gown around himself and smiled at her. As he raced out the door. He made it to the top of the stairs and could see the crowded gambling hall below him. Normally the hall would not be so full, but with the poker tournament on it was packed day and night. He prayed Ezra Standish had already retired as he raced down the steps two at a time. Not used to running in a dress his feet tangled and he would've fallen at the bottom, but a man in a black suit grabbed his arm.

"Best watch your step, little lady," the man said and laughed when his eyes met Wilmington's.

There were not many men that the scoundrel had to look up at, but this man was one of them. He seemed to tower over Buck, and he smiled brightly as he pulled from the man's grasp

"Thanks, but I ain't no lady!"

"Well ya look mighty fine in that gown," the man shouted over the loud music.

Wilmington hurried into the street with the sounds of wolf whistles following him. He glanced at the window and saw the two identical faces watching him. He wondered how they'd managed to get inside so quickly. Must've slipped back inside while I was changing, he thought.

"Ah, Bucky, looks like someone's taken a fancy to you," Ariana laughed.

The mustached man bowed to the two women with a flourish before turning to find his clothes. His jaw dropped as his eyes came to rest on a familiar form, holding his pants and shirt. He knew the twins had managed to get his clothes off the line before they went inside and somehow, lady luck had smiled down on the only gambler in Jasper who knew him.

"Ah, shit," he swore in a low breath, "Hey, Ezra!"

"Well, Buck, I see you have decided to expand your wardrobe." The Southerner charmed, eyes glittering in devilish green light.

"Shut up, Ez, and gimme my clothes!" the ladies man snapped.

"Your clothes? I thought you were wearing them? Flowers do suit you. Although the ones on your posterior seem to expand your rather ample backside!"

"Ez, don't make me shoot ya!"

The gambler circled his friend and smiled as he stopped in front of him.

"I'm sorry, but I do believe that is an empty threat as I cannot find a place where you could endeavor to hide a gun."

"Ez!" The ladies' man grabbed for the clothes, forgetting that his hands had been holding the gown together. A loud gasp from beside him made him turn and his face blushed crimson as he spotted two refined ladies hurry away in the opposite direction.

"Ah, Hell, Ez, gimme my damn clothes!"

"Buck, the color of your face now perfectly matches the color of those flowers you wear."

"Oh, I'm gonna make ya pay for this."

"From what I see, I stand to make a fortune from this chance encounter."

"What are you talking about?" the ladies' man asked as he continued to grab for his clothing.

"Well, I'm sure our illustrious tracker..."

The dark head came up and he froze in the street.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Now what kind of friend would I be if I didn't share this hilarious moment with our mutual acquaintances. I'm sure the lovely widow would run a front page special on..."

"Ezra, I'm gonna..."

"Not to worry, Mr. Wilmington, a small monitory payment from you will ensure my silence."

"Ez!" the ladies' man snapped and was relieved when Standish relinquished his hold on the clothes. "I owe you!" he hissed as he pulled on his pants.

"Of that I am certain," the gambler smiled, his tooth glinting, "I'll expect you'll be very generous."

"Oh, Bucky, you want these?" Amanda called from the window.

The ladies' man looked up at the window as he finished pulling on his pants. He grabbed for the gun and belt as they were thrown towards him, forgetting his pants were undone until the two women laughed once more.

"Mr. Wilmington, you give new meaning to the words drop em," Standish said, no hint of a smile on his face, but the dancing green eyes betraying the serious tone.

"Ya know I really oughta just shoot ya," he said as he pulled the pants back up and made sure they wouldn't fall again.

"So what did you do to upset your lovely companions?"

"None of your damn business," Wilmington said as his boots landed beside him and he knew he would never live this down. "Thanks, Ladies."

"No hard feelings, Bucky," Ariana called.

"None, at all, Darlin'. I'm just sorry you didn't get to see just how hard things could get."

"Well, hell, come on up and we'll try again," Amanda called.

"N...No, I don't think so. Things get a mite cold around you two."

"This I have to hear," Standish mumbled as they walked towards their hotel.

"Not from me you won't!"

"Maybe I should pay a call on the two lovely ladies?"

"If ya do ya might wanna keep your clothes on and make sure there's no ice around," Wilmington said, wincing as he walked beside his friend. "And don't ever mention another woman around them or things'll turn cold real fast."

---

They'd been driving for a couple of hours when Chris noticed the girl was getting tired. Once Mindy began to fall asleep he stopped the stage and had Tanner bring the prisoner outside. He made sure the girl could not see the murderer, before bringing her down and placing her inside the coach. He covered her with one of the blankets under the seats before turning towards the tracker.

"How are you doing, Vin?"

"Jest fuckin' fine!" the sharpshooter snapped as he shoved the prisoner towards the front of the stage. "Ya git in there, Lar'bee and take care of the girl!"

"I don't think so, Tanner. You'll fall out of that seat before we get half a mile..."

"I'm..."

"A mess. Anyone with two eyes can see your back's hurting you. Now get back in there before I tie you up!"

"Ya wouldn't!"

"Try me!"

"What about the girl?"

"What about her?"

"She don't know me!"

"I told her who you were," he said as he looked inside once more. He smiled at the brown eyes looking at him. "Mindy, you remember me telling you about my friend Vin?"

"Yes," she said tiredly.

"Is it okay if he rides in here with you?"

"O...okay," she said as her eyes closed and she slept.

"You heard her, Pard. Get in!"

"Ain'tcha tired of bein' out in the heat?"

"No! Now you're wasting daylight, Tanner!"

Vin climbed reluctantly inside and Chris closed the door before he could protest further. He leaned heavily against the back of his seat and glared at his best friend.

"Next stop, Farmington," Larabee told him, ignoring the blue ice staring at him. He pulled the prisoner to the front of the coach and told him to climb aboard, smiling as the man looked at his bound hands. The blond helped him up and waited for him to grab onto the seat before he let go. Once the man was seated, the gunslinger tied his ankles and wrapped the excess rope around the sidebar of the stage, before climbing up beside him. A simple flick of the rope and they were headed towards Farmington once more.

Darkness had completely taken over as Chris drove the stage through the center of town. Few people were in the street, but he could see light in what he knew was the jail. He pulled the stage to a stop in front of it and heard a shout from behind him.

"Hey, Tom, what the hell happened? Yer four hours late!"

Chris turned his weary gaze on a white haired man in a business suit and asked. "Your sheriff in?"

"You ain't Tom..." the man said as the door of the jail opened and a middle aged man stepped outside. The light from the street fire shone off the badge on his chest.

"No, I'm not. Tom's dead. This man did it," Larabee said, nodding his head to the man beside him. "Killed a woman too."

"You see it happen?" the sheriff asked.

"No, but my friend did."

"Where is he?"

"In the back," Larabee said as he climbed down from the seat and stretched the kinks from his back. He blocked the sheriff and the other man by standing in front of the door.

"Look, Sheriff, the girl's scared. She saw what that animal did to the driver. I'll bring her out once you got that piece of trash inside a cell."

"Alright, Mr..."

"Larabee. Chris Larabee."

"The gunslinger?" the white haired man asked.

"Some say that's what I am. Does it matter?"

"No. Guess not. All right, you stay right here while I take care of the prisoner."

"Not going anywhere," Larabee said as he turned and opened the door, letting his worried gaze rest on the tracker. The fact that Vin had yet to move told him just how much he was hurt. He saw the younger man's white knuckles grasping the side of the seat and knew the he was hurt more than he'd let on. He reached in and touched the younger man's arm.

"Vin, we're here," he said softly.

"Huh," the long-haired man muttered and gasped as he moved on the seat. "Sonofabitch!"

"Easy, Tanner, just lie still and I'll see if there's a doctor here."

"No doctor! I'm okay!"

"Sure you are," Larabee shook his head as the stubborn man sat forward and eased out of the stage. "Hi, Mindy," he said when he saw a pair of scared brown eyes open and look at him. "It's okay, Honey, no one's gonna hurt you here. We're in Farmington."

"We...we made it?" the girl asked as she sat up.

"That's right..."

"You can bring her out now, Mr. Larabee," the sheriff ordered.

"Are you okay, Mindy?"

"W...will you stay w...with me?"

The gunslinger knew she'd latched onto him as her protector and for now he would let her think that way. The girl had been through so much and he didn't want to see her hurt further, "I'm not going anywhere right now," he assured her as he helped her from the coach.

"Sheriff, this is Mindy Lawrence."

The sheriff knelt in front of the girl and smiled warmly. His own daughter was ten and this child was around that age, maybe a little younger.

"Hi, Mindy. My name is Hank Thompson and I'm the sheriff here in Farmington. I know you're scared right now."

"Not scared anymore...hungry!" the girl said.

"Sheriff, can't this wait until tomorrow?" Larabee asked as he watched Tanner lean heavily against the stage.

"Yeah, that's fine, Mr. Larabee. Why don't you take her down to Molly's, that's the place at the end of the street and get something to eat. She makes the best roast in these parts and I bet she's baked some of her cookies too. Would you like that, Mindy?"

"Can we go, Chris?" Mindy asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Larabee said as she grabbed his hand. "Sheriff, can you get someone to take care of our horses?"

Thompson nodded and said softly. "I'll have Jacobs take care of them after I drop the bodies off at the undertakers. They'll be in the livery across the street. By the way Mr. Larabee, Molly's got some rooms she rents out if you're a mind to."

"Thanks, Sheriff. Vin you ready to go?"

"Yeah," the sharpshooter said tiredly, hoping for a soft bed and something warm to fill his belly.

Chris watched out of the corner of his eye as his friend moved away from the stage. He knew the tracker was in pain and he was going to make sure he saw the doctor, if it meant knocking him out and tying him to a bed. He smiled as he felt Mindy tug on his arm and pull him towards the house at the end of the street. They walked through the dark street until they came to the house the sheriff indicated. Chris opened the tiny gate and held it as the tracker walked through. He knew things would only get worse by morning, especially once tired muscles had a chance to rest and stiffen further.


Mindy held tightly to Larabee's hand as they reached the door and he knocked lightly. A soft voice told them to hold on and he watched as Tanner leaned heavily against the railing. The door opened and soft white light spilled out on the landing.

Molly Richmond shook her head at the three weary looking newcomers and opened the door further. "Well you two look worse than what my cat dragged in last night!" She said as she looked from one man to the other, before letting her eyes come to rest on the child holding tightly to Larabee's hand.

"But you look as pretty as the marigolds in springtime. What's your name, Honey?" she asked.

The child looked up at Larabee and he nodded that it was okay.

"Mindy Lawrence."

"Well, Mindy why don't you bring your Pa and your friend inside and we'll get you something to eat?"

"He's not my Pa, Ma'am. My Pa and Ma are dead and so is Aunt Fran." As she said the words, tears filled her eyes and the sobs began anew.

Chris reached down and picked the child up in his arms, holding her against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. He saw the sympathy in the woman's blue gray eyes and knew she could be trusted.

"Oh, Dear, I'm so sorry," Molly said as she ran her hands through her silver streaked black hair. "Why don't you bring her in and..." she stopped as she saw the second man sway and reached out for his arm. "Do you need to lie down?" she asked, shaking her head at the sorry threesome that had just entered her home.

"I'm fine, Ma'am."

"Sure you are," she said and turned back to the man in black. "Have you got rooms yet?"

"No, Ma'am, we were hoping you'd be able to put us up for a few days," Larabee told her, knowing they'd need to stick around in order for Vin Tanner to not only testify, but give him a chance to rest and heal.

"I have three beds. Two of em are in one room. If the little lady doesn't mind sharing a room with me there's a nice bed in there just for her."

"Thank you, Ma'am, that's fine," Larabee said gratefully, his hand rubbing the sobbing child's back.

"Have you eaten yet?" the woman asked.

"No, Ma'am, Sheriff said you might have something..." The gunslinger started, but the woman's raised hands stopped him.

"You three go sit at the table and I'll bring in what's left from supper. Won't take me long to warm it up."

Larabee smiled, knowing this woman would do anything for her guests. "You don't need to go through any trouble, Ma'am..."

"No trouble. Now shoo. Go on, get into the kitchen and sit down. That child may not weigh much, but you look like you're ready to fall down and your friend's even worse."

"Thanks, Mrs..." Tanner drawled.

"Molly Richmond, but you just go ahead and call me Molly."

"Thanks, Molly. I'm Chris and that's Vin," he said, nodding towards the tracker as they made their way to the kitchen. A large table dominated one wall of the kitchen and was surrounded by eight chairs. A basket of wildflowers sat on a white lace cloth in the center, surrounded by upturned glasses and folded napkins. Chris eased the little girl into one of the chairs and sat in the one next to her. Once more he watched his friend without his knowledge.

Vin held the sides of the chair as he sank down on the hard surface. His back grew continuously worse with each movement and he silently cursed his malady. Ain't fuckin' gettin' ol' Larabee, he thought and winced as pain shot up into his shoulders. He lifted his head and met Larabee's worried gaze as just as the woman placed a pot of coffee and two cups on the table between them.

Molly set a glass of milk in front of the child and smiled at the tear stained face. "Everything's going to be okay, Honey. You just drink that milk and Molly will have you fed in no time."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Larabee said as the child picked up the glass and drank greedily.

"You're welcome, Chris. Now help yourself to the coffee. Dinner won't be long and you can get those two to bed," she said as she hurried back to the stove.

The gunslinger watched his friend for a reaction to the woman's words, but fear filled him as no protest was forthcoming. Have to ask Molly about a doctor, he thought and saw the shaggy head come up and glare at him.

"I'm fine."

"We'll let the doctor..."

"I don't need a damn doctor. Jest need some of Nathan's rub."

"We'll see."

"Lar'bee!" Tanner hissed, but there was more pain in his words than anger.

The gunslinger reached for the pot and filled both cups with the strong brew. He shoved one across to his friend and smiled at the barely audible thanks.

Molly quickly filled three plates with the thick beef stew and reheated biscuits and placed one in front of each of her guests. She sat beside the girl and smiled as Mindy dipped her spoon into the simple, yet flavorful meal.

"When you're done with that I've got some sugar cookies," the woman told her and was delighted to see a real smile on the tired face.

Chris listened to the woman talking, but his eyes continued to study the ailing tracker. He knew by the unsteady movements that Vin was barely able to sit in the chair. Chris had to force himself not to say anything, knowing the quiet man hated being hurt, truth be told he did too. He ate his own meal and was glad when the sharpshooter finally finished his meal and yawned tiredly.

"Sounds like you need to get to bed," Molly said. "Come on and I'll show you where to bunk."

"Go on, Vin. I won't be far behind you."

Molly showed the younger man where the room was at the end of the hall. Vin was pleasantly surprised by the size of the beds and the breeze wafting through the curtains.

"If you need anything just let me know," the woman said as she closed the door behind her and returned to the kitchen.

Larabee looked up from his second cup of coffee as the woman came back. "Can you take care of Mindy for a few minutes. I'd like to go get her bag off the stage and check on our horses."

"Sure thing. Me and Mindy are gonna have some cookies. Aren't we Mindy?"

Chris was glad to see the child nod her head enthusiastically.

"Make sure you save one for me, Mindy!"

"I will," the girl agreed as she drank the last of her milk.

"You don't need to knock when you come back, Chris, just come right on in."

"Thanks, Molly. Is there a doctor in this town?"

"Dr. O'Malley. His office is at the end of the street opposite the general store. Just knock on the door and tell him you and your friend are staying here. He's a good man, Chris, and he'll be able to help your friend," she assured him.

Larabee nodded, turned and smiled at the little girl and walked towards the door. He heard Molly talking softly to the child and was relieved to know he was leaving her in good hands. He walked out the door and hurried out of the yard, making sure he barred the gate as he left. He frowned and his body tensed as a figure, outlined by the light of the street fire hurried towards him. Years of being a gunslinger in strange towns kept him on alert, but he slowly relaxed as he recognized the sheriff.

"Everything okay, Sheriff?"

"Yeah, fine, just thought you might be needin' these," he said as he passed Larabee the saddlebags.

"Thanks, I was just coming to get them."

"Also got the girl's bag here. Figured it was hers because it's full of little dresses and things."

"Yeah, guess it is hers," the gunslinger said as he threw the two saddlebags over his shoulder and continued down the street.

"Where are you headed?" Thompson asked.

Larabee knew the man was just trying to be friendly, but again his instincts were to give as little information as possible to strangers in unknown towns. He shook himself knowing this man would find out anyway. "Just have to check with your sawbones."

"Why? Is the little girl hurt?"

"No, she's fine, well as fine as any child would be after going through what she did."

"Well you don't seem to be ailin'. Must be your friend. Hope it's nothing serious."

Me too, Larabee thought as he walked beside Thompson.

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Just want to get the doc to take a look at him."

"Well, you let me know what Doc O'Malley says. Don't want to lose one of my witnesses before the judge gets here."

"When will that be?"

"He should be here Thursday. That gives your friend three days to rest up."

"You got a telegraph office, Sheriff?"

"Sure do. Just check with Tilly at the hotel. She runs the telegraph and the post office. She'll be able to help you out. But she's closed right now."

"Thanks, Sheriff."

"Nothing to thank me for, Mr. Larabee. Just take care of my two witnesses," Thompson said as he walked towards the jail.

Chris smiled as he continued towards the house at the end of the street. He looked at the general store and smiled at the tiny doll in the window. He wondered why the store would be open at such a late hour, but hurried towards it. He pushed open the door and saw an elderly couple stocking shelves.

The woman stood up and smiled at the newcomer. "I'm sorry, Sir, but we're closed."

"Oh, sorry, Ma'am, saw the light and was hoping you were still open."

"Hey, ain't you one of the ones came in with the stage. You the one who saved that little girl?" the man said as he stood up and came forward.

Larabee nodded. "Came in on the stage..."

"Well in that case we're open. My name's Julia Winters and this is my husband Frank," the woman said. "Now what can I get for you, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris frowned, wondering how this women knew his name, and remembered how news travelled in small towns.

"How much is that doll you have in the window?"

"This one?" Julia asked as she picked up the tiny figurine.

"Yes, Ma'am," Larabee answered. The doll wore a fancy white lace dress with matching bonnet over dark hair.

"One dollar. I know it's a little costly, but it comes from France and is of the highest quality."

Larabee reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. He knew he could find a cheaper doll, but something about this one seemed perfect for Mindy Lawrence and he handed the woman the money.

"Would you like me to wrap it for you?"

"No, thank you, Ma'am," he said as he took the doll from her.

"You're a kind hearted soul, Mr. Larabee," Julia Winters said of his gift for the little girl.

Not many would agree with you, Ma'am. Most think my soul is as dark as the clothes I wear, he thought as he nodded his thanks and left the store. He walked across the street and was stopped as the whispered words sounded on the breeze once more.

Help us!

Chris turned in the street, gazing up and down the darkened rows of buildings, frowning as he realized he was completely alone.

You're hearing things again, Larabee, he thought as he hurried towards the small house. He knocked at the door and waited for it to be opened. When it did he was surprised to find a man not much older than Vin Tanner standing there. The hair was much shorter, the eyes a darker shade of blue, the hair almost rusty in color, and Chris wondered if this man could possibly be a doctor.

"Can I help you?"

"Hope so. I'm looking for Dr. O'Malley."

"Well then you can quit looking. I'm Jack O'Malley. What can I do for you?"

"It's not me. My friend hurt his back and I wanted the doctor."

O'Malley was used to this reaction from newcomers. He'd graduated at an early age, but the papers on his wall didn't mean much to people in the west. They wanted experience and experience came with age. This town had given him that chance without question when he'd come in on the stage five years ago. Now his home and his patients were here.

"Where is your friend? Can he come here?"

"He's at Molly Richmond's place and I'd rather not make him have to come down here."

"Is he in pain?"

"He won't admit it, but yeah he is."

"Oh, Hell, one of the stubborn types."

Larabee had to laugh at the doctor's choice of words.

"You could say that."

"Will he shoot me if I just show up."

"No, you'll be safe, but you might end up treating two patients."

"Ah, so he'll take it out on you, will he?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Just wait here 'til I get my bag. Might take a couple of minutes while I get some extra bandages just in case your friend does decide to shoot you," O'Malley told him.

Larabee watched the doctor step back inside the house and knew this was a man he could very well grow to like. He looked up and down the quiet street, enjoying the solitude of the evening. It wasn't long before O'Malley rejoined him and they walked out into the street.

"Never did get your name."

"Chris Larabee."

"And your friend?"

"Vin Tanner."

"How was he hurt?"

"Tangled with the man your sheriff has in his jail."

"The one that killed Tom and the woman?"

"Yeah. Vin found him just as he killed her and they fought."

"Where is he hurt?"

"His back. Think he probably twisted it during the fight."

"You know you boys are heroes."

"Not a hero, Doc, just doing what anyone else would've done if they'd been there."

"Not everyone, Mr. Larabee. Most folks are too scared to interfere in things they feel are none of their business. I wish that wasn't so, but I've seen it all too often."

"Who knows, maybe some day people will help each other without needing a reason."

"I hope you're right, but I don't expect to see it anytime soon. Although I must say it is refreshing to see it when it does happen. Well, here we are. Let's go see how your friend is doing."

Larabee moved through the gate as O'Malley held it open for him. Once they reached the door he eased it open and held it for the doctor.

"Chris," Mindy said excitedly as she spotted her new friend.

"Hi, Honey," Larabee said, dropping the saddlebags and her tiny suitcase on the floor beside the table.

"Hello, Jack."

"Evening, Molly, hear you have a guest who's in need of my services."

"I do, but he's a mite ornery." Molly looked towards the table, smiling at how gentle the man in black was with the child.

"I saved you a cookie, Chris," Mindy said and passed him the sugar cookie.

"Thank you, Mindy," Larabee said, accepting the offering from the small hand. "I've got something for you too," he said.

"For me?" she asked, excitement driving some of the fear from her face.

"That's right," The blond said and handed her the doll.

"She's mine?"

"As long as you want her," Larabee assured her.

"Then she's mine forever 'cause that's how long I want her. Can I take her to bed with me?" She asked, her eyes filled with hope.

"Of course you can and I think it's time for you to get ready for bed."

"I'll look after her, Chris," Molly said, reaching for the child's hand.

Mindy's arms wrapped tightly around Larabee's neck and he felt the slight tremble of the child's body against his own.

"I want to stay with Chris," she sobbed against him.

Molly held her hand up as Larabee went to speak. She knelt beside the little girl and waited for the small head to turn her way.

"Mindy, I know you want to stay with Chris, but he needs to help his friend. Remember I told you Vin was hurt?"

"He hurt h...his ba...back."

"That's right, and he needs his friend to help him feel better," the woman explained.

"Vin ne...needs y...you?" Mindy asked as she looked into Larabee's green eyes.

"Yes, Honey, he does. I won't be far away. Molly can help you get ready for bed and when you're ready I'll come tuck you in."

"You will?"

"Course I will," Chris said as he hugged her once more.

"Now, Little Lady, let's get you ready for bed," Molly said as the gunslinger passed her the child's bag. "Vin is in the room at the end of the hall on the right."

"Thanks, Molly," Larabee said, picking up a lamp and leading the doctor towards the room. He readied himself for the blow up he knew was about to come and shoved open the door. His eyes roamed over the darkened interior until they lit on the prone figure lying fully clothed under the window.

"Ya wanna take that fuckin' light outta here, Lar'bee?" Tanner asked without opening his eyes. He knew by the heavy tread that it wasn't the woman or the child.

"Can't do that yet, Tanner, got someone who's gonna take a look at you."

"What the fuck are ya talkin' 'bout?" The sharpshooter sat up and slid his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as shards of pain ripped threw his back, up into his shoulders.

"Brought the town's doctor to take a look at your back."

"Nuthin' wrong with my back."

"Well now, Mr. Tanner, I'd say there's something wrong with it."

"What the hell do ya know about it?"

"Vin!"

"Guess Molly was right about you being a mite ornery," O'Malley said as he entered the room, but stood a little behind the gunslinger.

"Ain't orn'ry. Jest don't cotton ta folks stickin' their nose in my business. Goes fer..."

"Vin, shut up for a while will you? Look, let the doc take a look at you and we can both get some rest!" Larabee was used to the tracker's stubborn cussedness, but lack of sleep was making him a little short tempered as well.

"Was restin' 'til ya come bargin' the hell in!"

"That's not the way I saw it! You looked like you were in a shitload of pain!"

"...been worse..."

"Mr. Tanner, why don't you let me take a look at you and set your friend's mind at ease. He's been worried about you."

"Hell, Doc, ain't nuthin wrong with me!" Tanner snapped and stood up.

Chris moved to the tracker's side as he gasped in pain. He grabbed his arms and eased him back on the bed, ignoring the muttered curses and threats of being shot.

"We need to get his shirt off," O'Malley said, staying slightly back from the irate man.

"Vin, I'm gonna take off your coat and shirt and..."

"Do it m'self," Tanner hissed.

"Sure you can, but we ain't got all night! Now shut up and let me help you!" Larabee knew his friend was in more pain then he was letting on as the younger man grew quiet and let him ease him out of his clothes.

"Sorry, Vin," the blond whispered as he pulled the shirt from under the prone form.

"It's o...kay, Chris, not yer fault!"

"Are you ready to admit you need help?" Larabee asked.

"Not fuckin' likely," the tracker hissed, smiling at the look on his friend's face.

"Yeah, well, you're getting it whether you want it or not. He's all yours, Doc, and Vin," he waited until the sharpshooter looked at him. "Don't shoot the doctor."

"Don't plan on, b...but th...there's a gun...slinger m...might just get a ba...backside full of l....lead!" the Texan hissed.

Larabee smiled and turned to the doctor as Molly knocked on the door.

"You're safe, Doc, he won't do anything to you."

"Chris, Molly wants to know if you're ready to tuck her in?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," Larabee said. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Vin."

"Seems like I fu...ain't goin' nowhere," the tracker snapped, barely able to contain the curse from escaping his mouth.

Chris walked out of the room and Molly pointed to the room across the hall.

"She's in there, Chris, and she's certainly taken a shine to you."

"Yeah, I noticed that. It's gonna be hard when the time comes to say goodbye."

"Hard for both of you, I'm thinkin," she mumbled as he walked into the room.

"Hi, Mindy," Larabee said as he sat on the edge of the bed. She smiled as the child reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He rubbed her back and gently eased her down on the bed, wiping the tears from her eyes as he did so.

"I m...miss Aunt Fran, C...Chris," she sniffed.

"I know you do, Honey, but things are gonna be okay."

"Who's gonna take care of me now?"

"Me and Vin and Molly and lots of folks will take care of you until we can get you to your Nana and Papa."

"I can still go to Nana and Papa?" she asked, eyes bright with hope as she looked at the gunslinger.

"Of course you can, Honey. I'll send them a telegram tomorrow and we'll make arrangements to have you brought to them."

The little girl cried as her eyes closed and Chris rubbed her shoulder as she pulled the doll close to her chest. Memories of Adam brought a sad smile to his face, as he remembered soothing his son's fears in much the same way, only Adam had been holding a small calico horse.

"I can look after her now, Chris," Molly said as she came into the room.

Larabee looked down at the bed as to see a pair of frightened eyes looking up at him.

"It's okay, Mindy, I'll be right next door. Okay?"

"O...kay," the child said softly as her eyes closed.

Chris wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up slowly. With a weary sigh he stretched the kinks out of his back and turned to the woman who'd given her home so freely.

"Thanks, Molly, come get me if she needs anything."

"I will. Now you go see to your friend and make sure you get some sleep when Jack leaves. There's coffee on the table in the kitchen if you want some."

Larabee nodded and moved across the hall to the second bedroom. He heard O'Malley giving Tanner instructions and moved towards the kitchen. He grabbed a cup and poured himself a fresh brew and walked back to the bedroom. He waited by the door, listening as the doctor made a thorough examination of his friend's back.

"Mr. Tanner, you're gonna need to lie still for a few days, maybe as long as a week..."

"Can't Doc, I got thin's ta do that don't include layin' on m'back..."

"You don't have a choice..."

"Always got a choice, Doc, jest don't tell Lar'bee...."

"Too late, Tanner," Larabee said, the hot cup held tightly in his grasp.

"Ah, fuck, how long ya been there?"

"Long enough..." He raised a single sandy brow and unleashed a knowing half-grin.

"Shit, Chris, we's goin ta Jasper! Gonna have some fun with Buck and Ez."

"We can go to Jasper when you're feeling better..."

"Feelin' fine, Lar'bee! Be ready to ride out at first light..." Tanner tried and pushed his body upwards, crying out as pain raced through his back.

"Sure you are, Mr. Tanner," O'Malley said as the lean body dropped back on the bed. He smiled as Larabee knelt beside him, concern written across the tired face.

"Sorry, Pard, right now we do as the doc says."

"Ah, hell!" the tracker gasped as the doctor's hands ran along his lower back.

"Sorry, Mr. Tanner, but you won't be able to move around much come morning anyway. I'm gonna give you a little Laudanum to help you sleep."

"...o...kay..."

"Vin, I know you hate the stuff, but maybe it'll help you get some sleep," Larabee said sympathetically.

"...not much choice, Lar'bee..." The tracker accepted the dose of medicine from the doctor and tried to hide the pain from his friend.

O'Malley and Larabee watched until the medicine began to take hold of the injured man, easing him towards a restful sleep.

"Good night, Vin," Larabee said as the younger man finally grew quiet.

"Nigh', Ch...riss...Tha...nks....Doc," the sharpshooter slurred as the nagging pain ebbed away with his consciousness.

"Doc, is there anything I can do to make this easier for him?"

"Yes, Mr. Larabee..."

"Chris..."

"Chris, first thing you need to do is get some sleep. You look almost as bad as your friend..."

"I'm okay."

"Sure you are. Just as fine as he is. Look, get a good night's sleep. When you wake up maybe you can apply hot towels to his back to ease the pain some. There's not much you can do, but let him rest. I don't think there's anything permanent, but if he goes moving around before his back had a chance to heal, well things could get a lot worse."

"How long should I keep him down?" Larabee inquired with concern.

"A week should do it..."

"A week, ah hell, doc, give me something easy," the blond mumbled tiredly.

"He doesn't seem to like being cooped up," the doctor observed.

"Vin is a man who likes to do things himself...likes being in the thick of the action, so to speak, and there's not a better man to have watching your back."

"Well, right now, Chris, he needs you to watch his back, and I mean just that. You're gonna have to watch for any more swelling than what's already there. You're gonna need to find out from him if he's in more or less pain..."

"I'll do what needs to be done, Doc."

"I know you will. Now he should sleep through the night and I think you'd better take advantage of that bed over there. If he wakes through the night give him a little more of the Laudanum. I'll send over some herbs for Molly to make him a tea with. It'll also help with the pain and maybe let him rest a little easier." O'Malley closed his bag and stood up, moving away from the bed.

"Rest really is the best thing for him, Chris," he said.

"Thanks, Doc," Larabee said, walking the physician to the door.

"You're welcome, Chris. I left the laudanum on the table in the room. Just make sure you don't give him too much. You saw how much I gave him?"

"Yeah," the blond said.

"Good, I'll come by sometime around noon."

Larabee nodded as the man moved out into the darkened street. He stood in the open door, framed by the dim light from inside the house. The fires had nearly died down now, and darkness swept across the town with the light breeze. The aroma of honey suckle and roses tickled his senses, but was quickly replaced by another, more cloying scent. Chris frowned as he moved down the narrow path, searching for the source of the nearly debilitating odor that seemed to move with him. His stomach churned at the strong nausea that forced bile into his throat. He leaned heavily against the fence, waiting for whatever it was to pass, feeling his legs grow weak as he tried to maintain his stance. His eyes clenched tightly as he fought to quell his rebelling stomach as the scent seemed to cut off his air, squeezing his chest until his lungs felt ready to burst. His head snapped up at the sound of two familiar words, whispered on the wind.

Help us!

"Godammit, who the hell's there?" he shouted and everything stopped as suddenly as it started. The breeze that carried the sickening stench no longer moved the branches on the trees or flowers on the brush. The sound of laughter and music from the saloon made him frown. He realized there had been a total absence of sound when he walked out of the house with the doctor. The fires that were almost non-existent blazed in the center of the street, casting shadows across the buildings and alleys.

"Jesus!" Larabee hissed as he moved back towards the house. He felt a tingle of fear race down his spine, but fought it off. Chris extinguished the lamp in the kitchen. Then making sure everything was okay and headed for the room he'd share with his best friend.

He stood beside Tanner's bed for a moment, watching the slow rise and fall of his friend's body. Vin lay on his stomach. Soft snores were the only assurance that he was having a relatively peaceful sleep. Larabee lifted the blanket over the lean body, shaking his head at the whispered thanks that issued from the slack lips.

Chris sank wearily onto of the small cot, sliding his boots off before lifting his legs onto the mattress. He blew out the lamp and lay awake, listening to the soft breathing from across the room. His eyes slowly closed and sleep soon wrapped him in a soft cloak, before dreams took over and his voice joined the snoring of his partner.

Larabee's sea green eyes opened, but didn't see the room he was in. Instead he saw things he didn't understand, heard things he didn't want to hear. His breathing was haggard as terror threatened to send him deeper into the nightmare realm he was already trapped in.

"Help us!" the words left his mouth as fear shone in his eyes, yet Larabee was still sleeping, unaware that he was speaking aloud in the darkened room.

Chris gasped for air, sucking it deep into his lungs as he sat upright in the bed. His heart pounded against his ribs, sending ripples of pain into his skull. His body shook with his heaving chest and drums beat behind the closed lids of his eyes. Sweat rolled off his forehead, making a trail of moisture down his cheeks and onto his chest. Fear seemed to be the only memory he had, but fear of what, of who, was out of his reach. The darkness only fueled his fear, and there didn't seem to be any oxygen in the room. He stood on unsteady legs and staggered to the window. He grabbed the bottom and shoved upwards, gasping the air as fast as his starving lungs could take it in. He hung out the window, trying to satisfy his body's sudden need for air, hoping to quell the fire burning in his chest.

The blond had no idea how long he stayed where he was, but as suddenly as the attack happened it left, leaving him nauseous and exhausted. He stood up and moved away from the window. With shaky hands he reached for the cloth in the basin, on the table between the two beds and quickly washed the evidence of fear from his face.

God, where the hell did that come from! he thought and moved towards the tracker, sinking into the chair beside Tanner's bed. He could see the younger man was still sleeping and he sighed heavily, closing his eyes. He lifted a shaky hand and cupped his lips in it, fighting to stay awake. He couldn't remember what was so terrifying about his dreams, but he knew he didn't want to return to it.

Time has a way of defeating a man's resolve. Chris Larabee spent the day, riding, helping a small child, toting a prisoner across the Bisti Badlands, and driving a stage into Farmington. He'd also had the added worry of an injured friend, all of this fought to make his attempts to stay awake a lost cause and his soft snores soon joined those of his friend.

As dawn attempted to cover the lands with the wondrous awakening of a new day, Chris' voice cried out in the semi dark room.

Vin heard the terrified voice from beside him and frowned.

"Mu...must be some...dr...dream, Cow...boy," he mumbled before the laudanum threatened to pull him back under. He sighed heavily, hoping whatever was bothering Larabee was over. Have to find out what it is, he thought. By the time he woke the next morning, any memories of dreams and questions were gone, in the wake of the pain and stiffness in his body.

---

Chris awoke before the sun had completely risen and shifted his stiff body in the chair. He opened his eyes and looked at the still sleeping form on the bed. Vin's face was relaxed and he was unaware of showing the pain he was feeling. The blond knew his friend tried to hide how much pain he was in, but he could see it on the haggard face.

Wincing as his back protested the night spent in the chair, Chris looked out at the town. The first streaks of the Dawn had just started to spread her wings over the horizon. Bringing with her the promise of another wondrous day, and beating back the horrors that sometimes came with the darkness. A shiver ran through his body as he tried to remember the dreams from the night before, but they stayed on the edge of his vision. There, yet not there, and he forced a smile to his face as he felt a soft breeze caress his face.

The gunslinger heard someone moving around in the kitchen. He knew the sounds of someone preparing a meal. He could hear bacon sizzling on a hot skillet and pots being placed on a stove. He smiled as the aroma of biscuits, bacon, and coffee assaulted his senses, and turned away from the window. Before leaving the room, Chris checked on the sleeping man. Satisfied that his friend would be okay he walked into the kitchen, just as Molly Richmond took a tray of biscuits from the oven.

"Well good morning, Chris. Did ya sleep well?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he lied as he moved towards the table.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, Ma..."

"Told you to call me, Molly, Chris."

Larabee couldn't help, but smile at the friendly woman as she placed a cup of steaming black liquid before him.

"Thanks, Ma...Molly," he corrected.

"You're welcome. Is your friend still sleeping?" she asked, cracking two eggs into a cast iron skillet.

Chris smiled at the sizzling sound of the eggs hitting the butter and knew he could get used to this woman's cooking.

"Yeah, he's still sleeping, but not for long if he gets a whiff of those biscuits. How's Mindy?"

"She's still sleeping. The poor thing's been through so much."

"Yes, she has. She's seen things children her age shouldn't even know about."

"Sometimes there are things even adults shouldn't have to see," Molly told him. She flipped the eggs onto a plate and placed it in front of the lean gunslinger. The bacon and biscuits were already in the center of the table.

The blond smiled as the muffled, but familiar, Ah, hell! came from the room he shared with the tracker.

"Just like clockwork," he said, standing up to check on his friend.

"Well, now, you just tell him to stay in that bed and I'll bring his breakfast to him. No sense in him aggravating that back of his," the woman ordered and cracked two more eggs into the skillet.

"I'll tell him, but..."

"No buts, Chris. You just tell him it's Molly's orders if he wants bacon, biscuits and eggs. If he gets outta that bed I'll just fix him up some real thick mush."

Chris laughed as the woman threatened Tanner with the one thing that might keep him in the bed. The younger man loved to eat, but there were limits to what he considered good food. Mush was on the bottom of his list.

Hell, it's on the bottom of mine too, he thought as he hurried to check on his friends.

He pushed open the door and walked to the bed as his friend tried to sit up. "Easy there, Vin."

"Ain't nothin' easy 'bout it!" the tracker winced as he forced his body to obey his commands.

"Just lie still..."

"Can't!" the sharpshooter hissed and gingerly sat up, rubbing his hand along his lower back.

"Why the hell not?" the blond asked, shaking his head at the stubborn man.

"Why did ya think?" Tanner said sheepishly of his full bladder.

"Ah, shit, sorry, Pard!" the gunslinger said with a grin.

"Not funny, Lar'bee. Just help me git the fuck outta here for I..."

"Alright, just hang on to me and we'll..."

"We'll nothin', Lar'bee! Been takin' care've business on my own since I's able ta walk. Just git me outside!"

"No need to go outside. Chamber pot's in the corner there."

"Git!" Vin drilled, "Man needs a little privacy...wouldn't wantcha gettin' all jealous or nothin'."

"Funny, Tanner," Larabee grinned and helped the younger man stand up.

"Can you handle it from here?"

"Ain't down there I got a problem wit', Lar'bee," the tracker winced as he walked the short distance to the dry sink and lifted the lid. "Git out will ya?"

"I'll be just outside the door," the blond told is friend.

Vin knew the gunslinger was worried about him, but he hated being watched over. He nodded his head and heard the door close behind him. He hated not being able to do things for himself, yet there were times when he had little choice.

Chris waited a few minutes before knocking on the door. A muffled curse told him to enter and he shook his head at the stubborn sharpshooter. The younger man sat on the edge of the bed, tugging on his pants. The face screwed up in a tight grimace of pain as the long-haired man tried to bend far enough to pull them on. Chris was quickly at his side, catching the tracker before he hit the floor.

"Son of a bitch!" the injured man snarled as he was helped back to the bed.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just need ta git me some of that food I keep smellin'." Tanner stood up and headed for the door, smiling weakly at the woman standing there.

Molly folded her arms across her chest, blocking the exit. She frowned at the young man swaying beside the bed.

"Guess the stubborn man must like mush. Funny he didn't seem the type," she said.

"Mush, Ah shi...shoot, Ma'am," the tracker corrected as he leaned heavily on the blond.

Larabee smiled as the tracker looked disgusted. Taking pity on his friend he explained.

"Molly, Vin's gonna go right back to bed, aren't you, Pard?"

"Not if'n I gotta eat mush!"

"Well, Vin," Molly said. "If you go back to bed I'll bring you a tray of bacon, eggs, and biscuits."

"Coffee?" the tracker asked hopefully.

"Sure..."

Tanner smiled as Larabee eased him back no the bed. "Lots of sugar?"

Molly laughed as she looked at the two friends. "You're a man after my own heart, Vin...lots of sugar it is." She turned and walked away from the room.

"Vin."

"Yeah, Chris?"

"Least now I know why you can drink that shit you call coffee," the blond laughed.

"Wha' the fuck's that mean?"

"You drown the taste with sugar."

"Fuck'n ungrateful...see if'n I make ya anymore..."

Larabee just smiled at his friend, as the younger man glared at him from the stack of pillows he now rested against.

Chris smiled as the woman came back into the room and placed a tray on the tracker's lap.

"Thank you, Ma'am," the Texan drawled softly.

"It's Molly, and you're welcome, Vin. Now you eat up and go on back to sleep," the woman said, humming as she left the room.

"Slept 'nough." Vin winced as he moved on the bed.

"Got something for you," Larabee said and offered his friend the laudanum. "No point in arguing, Vin, I can see you need it."

"Ain't arguin'...just hate needin' it."

"I know," Larabee said as the tracker reluctantly took the medication.

"Thanks, Chris."

"Anytime, Tanner."

"Git yer scrawny ass out there and eat yer breakfast," the sharpshooter smiled as he dug into the meal, ignoring Larabee's indignant answer.

---

Chris checked on the tracker before heading for the hotel. He knew the sheriff would be over to talk to Vin and Molly around noon. He wanted to get a wire off to Buck and Ezra before the two men heard from the others. He knew the men in Four Corners would be wondering if they made it safe and sound. When they didn't hear from them, they'd send a wire to find out if he and Vin made it. He didn't want the two men in Jasper, and the three in Four Corners to worry about them. He walked into the hotel, and made his way to the desk. A man stood behind it and looked up over a pair of black rimmed glasses. His hair was silver, eyes grey, and the smile reminded Chris of Josiah Sanchez.

"What can I do fer ya, young fella?"

Chris bit back a laugh at being called young fella, smiling as the elderly man stood up.

"I need to send a telegram to Jasper and Four Corners."

The man turned towards the back room and shouted, "Tilly!"

"What the heck are ya shoutin' 'bout, Burt?"

Chris smiled at the woman who stepped through the door. She couldn't be much younger than the man behind the desk and Chris knew these two were married.

"Oh, why didn't ya say we had company. Are you lookin' for a room?"

"Hell, Tilly, rooms are my job. If he wanted one I'd'a taken care of 'im."

"Well what's he want, ya ol' coot."

Chris tried not to laugh at the antics of the elderly couple, but was unable to keep the twinkle from his eyes. These two must've had a hell of a marriage if their actions were any indication.

"Yer still as sassy as ya ever were and I'm bettin' I can still haul ya across my knee."

"Now don't be talkin' 'bout our...Oh never mind," she smiled and looked towards the newcomer.

"What can I do for ya?"

"Well, Ma'am, the sheriff said you were the lady...."

"Lady? Hank called Tilly a lady? Hell, man's gettin' soft," Burt said as he turned back to his paper.

Chris didn't miss the affectionate tap he gave his wife's behind, and he felt at ease in their presence.

"Don't pay him no never mind, Mr..."

"Larabee, Ma'am, Chris Larabee."

"Well, Mr. Larabee, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to send a couple of telegrams. One to Jasper, one to Four Corners."

"Four Corners," Molly said wistfully. "Passed through there once, never went back. There were more guns there than ol' Burt there's got wrinkles. Who do ya want them sent to?"

"Buck Wilmington and Ezra Standish in Jasper."

"Must be poker players if they're in that town," she leaned across the desk and whispered. "Or else they's visiting that fancy massage parlor Burt likes ta visit. Ol' coot thinks I don't know," she cackled as she wrote the names Larabee gave her.

"Yes, ma'am," Larabee said with a knowing smile.

"Who do I send it to in Four Corners?"

"JD Dunne," Larabee answered, knowing the young sheriff would make a daily run to the telegraph office.

"Okay, now whatcha want me ta tell 'em?"

"Also need to send one to St. Louis?"

"What name?"

"Rupert Lawrence," Larabee answered.

"Alright, now why don'tcha tell me what ya want me ta say to 'im?"

While she was sending the messages, his mind returned to the horrible night's events. Once more he tried to grasp the nightmares, but without success. He left the hotel and looked out over the town of Farmington, wondering why he suddenly wished they'd never left Four Corners.

A feeling of foreboding shrouded him as he hurried along the street. His mind turned to the two people who were depending on him. One his best friend; the other an innocent child who'd been forced to watch as her beloved aunt was murdered. He looked towards the house, smiling as the soft breeze carried the sweet scent of honeysuckle to him again. A frown formed as quickly as the smile and he remembered a strong sense of nausea the night before. He tried to remember why this scent would make him nauseous. Then the sheriff's voice caught his attention and he turned towards the older man.

"Mr. Larabee!"

Chris turned towards the jail and saw the sheriff standing in the doorway. He changed direction and slowly walked over to him.

"Sheriff."

"How's your friend?"

"Better. The doc says he needs to stay off his feet for a while."

The sheriff frowned as he looked at the gunslinger.

"Will he be able to testify when the circuit judge gets here?"

"Vin'll be there."

"Good. You look like you could use a coffee...got plenty." Thompson offered.

Larabee looked at the other man and knew he could trust him. He nodded once and followed the sheriff into the jail. He pulled a second chair up to the desk and watched as Thompson poured him a cup of coffee. The door to the back room that housed the cells was closed, but Chris could hear the sound of shuffling feet as Clark paced back and forth.

"Thanks," the blond said and sipped the strong black liquid. "Not bad."

"Carolyn makes the best coffee around." His eyes lifted to meet those of his guest and he smiled. "Say, have you had breakfast, Mr. Larabee? My wife has a tendency to make too much..."

"It's Chris, Sheriff, " the blond returned with a small smile, "and thanks, but I've eaten."

"Well, Chris, you're missing out on a treat, but I'm sure whatever Molly fed ya was up to her usual standards."

"She's good."

"That she is," the sheriff agreed and knew it was time to get down to the real reason he'd wanted to speak with the gunslinger. "What about the little girl, Chris? Will she be ready to testify?"

"She's frightened...misses her aunt." He noted, sipping on the fine brew.

"Think she'll be able to tell the judge what she saw?"

"It'll be hard for her, but I think she's okay to identify Clark. Just hope the judge doesn't want her goin' into detail about what she saw." The gunslinger couldn't help but feel angry at what the child would have to go through. He knew it would be like living the whole horrifying experience over again.

"Judge Spencer is a fair man. He won't let any harm come to the child, but he will want to know everything."

"Vin can tell him what happened."

"Did he see Clark murder the woman?" Thompson asked hoping they could spare the little girl having to testify.

"Haven't really had a chance to ask him what he saw."

The sheriff looked at the man seated across from him. Something about Larabee oozed danger, and he sensed the man would do anything to protect his friend. He picked up the coffee pot and refilled his cup before asking.

"Think he's up to talking to me?"

"Not sure. Doc says he needs to rest. Laudanum is helping some."

"Well, I'd like to talk to him while things are still fresh in his mind."

"Alright," Larabee said, resigned to the fact this man did need to talk to Vin Tanner sooner or later. He just wished it could have been later rather than sooner. The two men finished the coffee and stood up. They walked out of the office and Chris waited for the other man to close the door.

"What about Clark?"

"Jamie is sitting over there. He likes to call himself my deputy and keeps an eye on things whenever I leave."

"Kinda young..."

"He's 24 and knows what he's doing...just don't tell him I said that," Thompson said with a grin.

"Jamie, I'll be at Molly's if you need me!"

"All right, Sheriff!" the young man said, turning his attention back to the jail.

Each lost in thought, the pair walked towards the home at the end of the street.

Thompson nodded at the town's people and called greetings to them as they passed. He kept glancing at the gunslinger, knowing the people of the town would be asking questions about the newcomers. Most of them already knew about the murders, but not the details, and he needed to keep those secret until the judge arrived and the trial began.

---

Molly Richmond heard the door open and walked out of the kitchen. She smiled at the blond haired man and the sheriff.

"How's Mindy?" Larabee asked.

"She's doing just fine. Aren't ya Mindy?" she asked as the little girl joined her in the doorway.

"Chris, I'm helping Molly make cookies," the child said as she moved past the woman and wrapped her arms around the blond's leg.

"I can see that," the blond laughed as he easily lifted the child. He used his finger to wipe away the dough from her mouth.

"Oh, that's 'cause Molly says we need to taste it to make sure it got the right 'gredients. " Mindy said and smiled at him.

"I believe Molly is right," Larabee said and placed her back on the floor.

"Me and Molly are gonna make lots of cookies for you and Vin."

"That's great, Mindy. Now how about you finishing those cookies. I know I would love some and I bet they'd make Vin feel better too."

"Ya think so?" the child asked.

"Oh, I know he will," he looked at the owner of the boarding house and smiled as she took the little girl by the hand.

"Come on, Mindy, let's see if we can get some of them cookies in the oven."

"Can I taste the dough again?"

"Course ya can, but only if I can too," she smiled at the chuckle from the child as she led her into the kitchen.

"This way, Sheriff," Larabee said as he walked down the hall towards the room he shared with the tracker. He pushed open the door and smiled as he saw the almost serene look on the sleeping man's face. Vin was on his stomach, his hands under his head and his face turned slightly down and to the right. The gunslinger could see the towel still in place across the younger man's back. He turned to face the sheriff before easing the door partially closed. Chris was intent on asking him to come back later in the day when the soft Texan drawl met his ears.

"Quit...sneakin'...Lar'bee...ain't...sleep...in..."

Larabee frowned as he pushed the door open. Vin Tanner was a man who rarely slept deeply, but the laudanum should have kept him out for a while longer. The fact that he was awake now, was testament to how much his back was bothering him.

"How are you feeling, Vin?" the worried gunman asked.

"...fine..."

"Don't look fine."

"Still look better'n...yer...sorry...old...ass..." the tracker said, trying to lighten the worry on his friend's face.

Larabee couldn't help but smile at the softly spoken words. He walked over to his friend and sat in the chair by the bed so the younger man would not have to strain in order to see him.

"Feel like talking to the sheriff?" Larabee asked.

"He here?"

"Just outside."

"...'kay...," the tracker hissed.

"Sheriff," Larabee said, nodding to the bedside chair. He was glad to see the lawman had sense enough to close the door so the conversation wouldn't reach the child's ears.

Hank Thompson sat in the chair and studied the pale face looking sideways at him. Something about this young man struck him instantly. The accent and broken English spoke of an uneducated man, but there was an intelligence in the blue orbs. The sheriff realized there was more to the tracker than met the eye.

"What can I do fer ya, Sheriff?"

"Well, Mr. Tanner, I'd like you to tell me everything that happened when you caught up with the stage."

"Saw Clark draggin' somethin' inta the bushes...didn't know it was a woman at the time. The driver hangin' o'er the side and knew he's dead. Thar's a girl in the stage and she was cryin' and sayin' somethin' about her aunt," the tracker frowned as he tried to remember everything.

Chris could tell the sharpshooter was thinking about the dead woman and whether he could've done something to save her life. His eyes sent a silent message to the younger man. A message he hoped the tracker would understand and grab on to. You did everything you could, Vin.

"Go on," the sheriff said as the silence seemed to go on indefinitely.

"Knew Chris was comin' so I left the girl on the stage and chased Clark. Bastard had already stabbed the woman...she's dead," his voice was soft and filled with sadness as he remembered the image of the knife embedded in the woman's chest. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to ward off the image and the on coming pain. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked gratefully into a pair of tired sea green eyes. A new memory came to his mind, an image of the gunslinger sitting beside his bed, moaning as if caught in a nightmare.

"Here, Vin," Larabee said as he held a cup in front of his friend.

The sharpshooter eased painfully up on his elbows, wincing at the pain that spread through his back. He drank the offered liquid gratefully, glaring at the blond as the bitter taste of laudanum registered in his mind.

"You need it, Pard."

"Ain't argu'n...but ya coulda warned me." The tracker sank back onto the bed and waited for the discomfort to pass.

"I'll remember that next time," the blond said and moved out of the way in order for the sheriff to finish his questions.

"Did you actually see Clark stab the woman?" Thompson asked.

"Yeah, but I couldn't stop 'im. He pulled the knife back out an' we fought...tha's how I hurt my back. Twisted it the wrong way takin' that sonofabitch down...only he didn't stay down. Tha's when Chris showed up. Stopped Clark from usin' the blade on me." The tracker turned to Larabee and nodded his thanks.

"What happened then?"

"Chris can tell ya better'n I can."

The sheriff turned to the gunslinger and waited for him to continue the tale.

"I arrived at the stage, but couldn't see Vin or Clark. The child was screaming and I knew I needed to take care of her. She was hysterical and fought me at first, but I finally got her calmed down enough to find out what happened. She fainted a few minutes later and I left her there while I went to help Vin. Pushed through the brush and knew there was nothing I could do to help the woman. Clark had a knife and was about to use it on Vin. I couldn't get a clear shot of anything but his arm and I short the knife from his hand."

"Wondered why you didn't shoot to kill," the sheriff said.

"It crossed my mind, but there was no chance with him being so close to Vin and the two of them fighting."

"Okay, so you shot the knife out of his hand. What happened next?"

The blond looked at the injured man and they both smiled as they remembered what the murderer tried to do.

"Clark tried to blame the murder on Vin, said Vin attacked him. Bastard didn't know we rode together."

"Guess he was surprised," the sheriff said with a grin.

"Y...yeah....he...s...sure...was," the tracker said, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"I think that's all for today. You go on and get some rest, Mr. Tanner," the sheriff said sympathetically.

"Not much ch...oice," the Texan drawled as his eyes slid closed. He didn't feel the gunslinger ease the blanket up over him or hear the two men leave him alone in the room once more. A soft sigh issued from his lips as a final thought entered his mind before he slipped into a laudanum induced sleep. Instantly he was thrown into a nightmare. Visions of Chris Larabee's face locked in pain, his voice calling for help, yet receiving no answer. The dreams would plague his subconscious upon awakening, yet remain locked illusively beyond his reach.

Larabee and Thompson stood in front of the closed bedroom door and spoke softly, again keeping their voices low.

"Do you think Mindy could answer a couple of questions, Larabee?"

"Is it really necessary, Sheriff?"

"Well she's gonna have to answer them sooner or later."

"Later," he issued tersely, the father in him coming out. "She's been through hell and I'd hate to see her upset again."

"Alright, guess we can put it off until the judge gets here, but she's gonna have to talk about it at the trial."

"Wish there was some way we could spare her that."

"I do too, Chris. A child should not have to be put through that, but we need her testimony to remove any doubt that Clark did murder Tom and the woman."

"When did you say the judge will get here?"

"Should be here in a few days."

Larabee nodded as he turned his gaze on the closed bedroom door.

"Least that'll give Vin a chance to rest his back."

"He seems like a good man."

"He is. Saved my life a time or two."

Thompson heard the undertone of pride in the gunslinger's voice. "I hear you boys have done a fine job of cleaning up Four Corners."

"We did what had to be done."

"Yeah, well I'm sure Steven Travis would've been glad the place was cleaned up."

Larabee looked at the other man and frowned at the his words.

"You knew Travis?"

* "Yeah, I knew him when he first started the Clarion. Was there on business for Judge Spencer. Me and Carolyn visited there a time or two after that. Wasn't often enough though because of the distance." He knew Larabee was only partially listening to him and studied the face for a few seconds before continuing.

"We didn't keep in contact much, but I knew Steven and Mary went through some tough times with that paper. I'm glad she's kept it running. Heard you saved their boy's life and brought Steven's murderer to justice."

"We caught the bastards, but it was Billy who brought them to justice, least it was his testimony that did it. He's a tough little kid."

"What about Tanner?"

"What about him?" Larabee's glare turned deadly.

"Just wondered how you two became friends. I know he's got a price on his head..."

"This isn't Texas!" he snarled, his voice changing from cool to glacial as he glared at the man standing before him. It's my fault we can't prove it, he thought as a picture of Eli Joe raising a knife to Vin Tanner came to mind. He swallowed painfully as he realized that was the one time he wished he hadn't shot to kill, but Vin's life hung in the balance.

"I believe you, Chris, and if there's anything I can do to help just let me know."

"We'll handle it," he warned softly, as they walked towards the door.

Larabee's voice may have been soft, but there was no mistaking the underlying warning in it. Thompson realized he was better off leaving it alone for now. "I'll let you know when I hear from the judge, Chris."

"Alright, Sheriff. Thanks for not pushing it with Mindy," the blond said as he watched the man leave.

Thompson stood outside the door and wondered how a man's reputation could possibly be so wrong. He'd heard that Chris Larabee was a man with a black heart who didn't give a damn about anything or anyone. That was not the case, at least not from what he'd seen. The gunslinger's concern for the injured tracker and the child were perfect examples of a man whose soul was still intact in spite of his brief stint in darkness.

---

It was just past three p.m. the following day. Chris sat in the porch swing, nursing an ice cold glass of lemonade. Vin was still sleeping and he knew that was what his friend needed right now. O'Malley seemed like he knew what he was doing, but Chris wished Nathan Jackson was here. The former slave didn't have a certificate on his wall, but he did have what was needed to be a natural healer. Sometimes Jackson felt inadequate about his abilities, but the six men he rode with saw nothing inadequate in the kind-hearted man.

He took another sip of the tangy liquid and smiled as the door to the boarding house opened and Mindy Lawrence hurried out. Her brown hair was pulled back in a pony tail and her eyes were wide with excitement as she held out a plate with four misshaped cookies.

"Look what I made for you and Vin, Chris," she said, bouncing on her feet in delight as he reached out and took one of the golden brown sugar cookies. She watched expectantly as he bit into the still warm offering.

"...best cookie I ever tasted," the handsome blond praised with a wide smile, giving the pint-sized chef's eyes a sparkle.

"I made them especially for you and Vin. Molly says I'm a real good helper. She says she'll teach me how to make a cake tomorrow."

The child's words were spoken in a hurry and reminded Chris of a time when Sarah let Adam help her bake. His son had been just as excited by his accomplishment as Mindy, and Chris had forced down the burnt cookies, thinking they were the best he'd ever had. He faltered as the memory gained momentum and he realized that was the day before he'd lost his wife and son to the whims of a madwoman. The smile returned as he thought of the happiness he'd shared with his family in the few short years they'd been granted. He felt a hand touch his arm and looked into the child's soft brown eyes.

"Chris, why are you sad?"

He pulled her down beside him and took a deep breath before speaking, and watched as she placed the plate of cookies on floor beside them.

"I'm not sad, Mindy. I was just remembering something that happened."

"It must've been sad, 'cause your eyes got all wet and your mouth wasn't like it is now. I'm sad 'cause I lost my Ma and Pa and my auntie Fran," she said, tears filling her eyes as she looked at him.

"Well, Mindy, it's okay to feel sad, but you know your Pa and Ma wouldn't want you to be sad, would they?"

"N...No," she sniffed.

"And neither would your Auntie Fran, right?" Larabee held her close to him as soft sobs reached his ears.

"R...right," she hiccupped.

"Then we need to do as they would want us to. We need to smile and be happy because they'll always be with you."

"They will?" she asked, big brown eyes widening even further.

"Of course," he said lifting her up on his knee.

"When you think of them does it feel funny here?" He asked as he touched her chest.

"Feels all warm."

"That's because they are in your heart and that warm feeling is them telling you they love you."

"Really?" she asked excitedly.

"Really," Larabee nodded and felt her small arms wrap around his neck. Again he remembered Adam and the hugs he'd shared with his son. Hugs that would stay with him forever and he smiled as he felt a warmth surround his own heart.

"Who were you thinking about, Chris?" Mindy asked as she looked into the sea green eyes.

Larabee smiled as he placed a finger under her chin and answered honestly.

"I was thinking of my little boy. He was a lot like you...and loved baking cookies with his Ma."

"Where is he?" Mindy asked with childlike innocence.

"Him and his mother died a long time ago," Larabee answered, knowing the four years since their death wasn't long, yet it felt like he'd been without them forever.

"Do you get all warm here when you think about them?" Mindy asked, placing her hand over Chris' heart.

"Yes, I do," he said, a single tear forming in each eye and slipping out unnoticed.

The child smiled and wiped the moisture off his face as excited words tumbled from her mouth.

"Then they're with you too! So me and you don't need to cry no more! Right?"

"Right," the gunslinger laughed as he picked her up and swung her around. "Now why don't we see if Molly has any more lemonade and see if Vin's awake. I'm sure he'd love one of your yummy cookies."

"He would?"

"Vin's got a real sweet tooth and he's gonna love these cookies," the blond assured her as he set her on the ground.

---

Nothing moved in the desolate wastelands. No living thing grew in a perfect circle around the area where lush desert vegetation once grew in abundance. The bright colors of Apache plume, blue phacelia, desert dandelion were no longer in evidence. The heartiest cactus no longer grew in the dead soil. No animals came within the circle, no birds flew over the dead area, and not a single wildflower could be seen. Along the perimeter of the blackened area many bones could be found. Some recognizable, others just tiny reminders of the deadly ground they'd strayed into. The skull of a bobcat lay next to a common gopher, deadly enemies, yet both were taken by the evil that resided within the unholy ground. Eviscerated bodies of elk, jack rabbits, and even Mexican gray wolves lay scattered an equal distance inside the circle. Hawks, Crows, quail, owls, and Vultures dropped from the sky when entering the ring, as if they'd ran into an invisible wall. Gila Monsters, rattlesnakes, and king snakes slithered to their demise within the first few inches of the circle. There was nothing easy in their deaths, evidenced by the violent destruction of flesh, bone, and cartilage scattered in the area. Death came to anything that flew, walked, or crawled into the circle of corruption. A spot that some would call hell on earth, where evil stalked its prey in expectation of the taste of living flesh.

Yet something still lived within the grounds, something that clung to the human world, in hopes of someday finding the one soul that was lost so many years ago. The blackened sands shifted revealing a piece of debris long since dormant. The splinter of wood, the only visible remnant of the Inn that once loomed over the area seemed to shift. To come to life and twist in a small column of sand, seeking out that which had been missing since the structure had collapsed on the night of the ill fated party.

The party goers were long since dead, but their tormented screams continued to permeate the area. Succeeding in driving away even the tiny insect that came within distance of the ground the Inn once stood upon. Banshee-like wails rose and fell with the shifting sand, proof that Hell could sometimes reside upon earth. Again the splinter moved, this time pointing northeast, feeling a strong sense of light that had once been on the dark side. The ground pulsed as it felt the possibility of bringing back one who had seen the dark side, but had not been enthralled in the promise of revenge.

Demonic cries drowned out the screams of the lost souls it held within its grasp, taking power from the savaged remains that faded in and out of the darkness. Severed heads, broken limbs, ravaged, twisted bodies, rolled through the undulating ground as the promise of a new future seemed at hand.

A soft whisper escaped from the power of darkness, seeking out a soul who could help release them from their captivity.

"Help us!"

Mindy slipped her tiny right hand into the gunslinger's left as they walked back into the house. She held the plate tightly in her left, not wanting to drop the cookies that rested there. She smiled as they entered the house and went into the kitchen, where she poured a glass of lemonade for the injured man.

Chris smiled as the child set everything on a small tray. She took a few of the tiny desert dandelions from the basket of wildflowers on the table. Then she placed them in a small empty bottle in the center. She carefully poured a large glass of cold lemonade. Her tongue snuck out the side of her mouth, in her determination and widened her smile.

"Ready?" Larabee asked the eager child.

"Do you think he'll really like my cookies?" she asked, the smile slipping a little.

"Yep."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause you made 'em!" The blond said and ruffled her hair, happy to see the innocent smile return to her face. "...with an extra ingredient."

"I did?" Her wide eyes inquired.

"Yup...you put love in there."

Beaming, Mindy picked up the tray and followed Chris to his room.

---

Vin lifted his head slightly as the door opened. He smiled as Mindy Lawrence stuck her head in the door. The child looked so much better than the last time he'd seen her in the stage. He knew Chris Larabee had a lot to do with that. From the stories Buck often told them the blond was a wonderful father, and Vin saw that whenever the gunman was around Billy Travis.

"Hi, Vin, can I come in?" she asked softly, the tray held in front of her.

He smiled mischievously at her.

"That fer me?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling with devilish mischief.

"Yeah, I made 'special!" she answered as Chris moved to the bed.

"I made 'em for you," she answered as Chris moved to the bed.

"Think you can sit up a little?" Larabee asked.

Again the eyes glowed with mirth as he answered.

"Fer sugar cookies...reckon I could!"

Chris eased him onto his side, wincing in sympathy as a hissed moan issued from slack lips.

"Sorry," he said, leaning his friend back on the pillow.

"It's okay...worth it fer them cookies," the tracker said. Smiling as he saw the little girl's eyes widen in excitement.

"Chris already had his, so these are just for you," she said as she sat on the chair and held the tray in front of him.

"Did ya make the lemonade too?" Tanner asked.

"Nah, I can't do that yet. Molly made it and she said it's real sour."

"Don't go givin' none ta Chris, he's sour 'nough," the tracker said and winked conspiratorially at the child. He eyed the flowers and his heart melted. "Fer me?" He asked and she leaned over and kissed his cheek. That brought a genuine blush and gave his best friend a wide smile.

"Thanks, Sugar, they's real pretty..." Vin touched the blooms and then tapped her nose.

Chris listened to his friend talking to the girl and couldn't help but feel pride at the ease with which the tracker spoke to Mindy. The scruffy Texan seemed to melt when he came in contact with children, but this one seemed to have gotten under his skin. The gunslinger realized it probably had to do with them both being orphaned at an early age. He shook his head as he heard Mindy's laughter. Once more he saw the devilment in the wondrous pools of blue looking in his direction.

"Vin likes my cookies too, Chris," Mindy bounced on the chair in her excitement.

"Sure do," the tracker said as he bit into the last of the last cookie.

"Want some more lemonade?"

"Yep," the tracker said and accepted the glass, drinking most of the tart liquid before placing it back on the tray.

Chris didn't miss the pain hidden just below the depths of his friend's eyes. He turned to Mindy and smiled as he asked.

"Why don't we go get some flowers for Molly," he said.

"Can we?" the girl asked and stood up.

"Sure, you put those in the kitchen and I'll be right out."

"Okay," she said and turned to go. She turned quickly and made her way to the bed. Mindy bent down and kissed his right cheek, smiling as the whiskers on his face rubbed against her soft skin. She turned quickly and hurried out the door.

"You ready to lie back down?" Larabee asked, worried about the sweat beading on the younger man's forehead.

"Y...yeah," the injured man groaned.

"Here, take this first," the blond ordered and held a dose of Laudanum before his friend's mouth. The fact that the tracker took it without arguing lent credence to the amount of pain he was still in.

Larabee removed the pillows and eased his friend back on the bed.

"Sorry, Pard," he said as he heard the hiss of air being released.

"I...it's ...okay... Go...Mindy's waitin'," he ordered. He let his eyes close and waited for the throbbing in his back to ease. A frown formed as something nagged at the back of his mind. Something he couldn't quite grasp, yet he knew it had something to do with Chris Larabee. He heard the door close and knew he was alone. Sleep finally overtook his thoughts, leaving him with a sense that he was letting his friend down.

---

Chris smiled as he watched Mindy picking the wildflowers at the edge of town. In spite of their talk and the time spent with Vin, he knew the child needed to be doing things to keep her mind off her aunt. With Molly's help he'd been able to do just that. The cookies were a big hit and Mindy smiled with pride during their visit. Maybe he'd encourage her to read to Vin in the afternoons. He knew Vin was sleeping and hopefully would continue to do so, as the laudanum kept pain to a minimum.

"Chris, I got lots of flowers!" Mindy called as she raced towards him.

"Yep, I think you do."

"Think Molly and Vin will like them?"

"I think so. They're just about the prettiest things around here," he paused long enough to cup her chin, "Except you."

Molly smiled as she hugged him tightly. She took his right hand in her left and they walked back towards Molly's boarding house.

Mindy spotted Molly standing outside the house. She released Chris' hand and ran towards the woman, excitedly waving the flowers in front of her.

Chris frowned as a sudden chill ran the length of his body. A soft touch on his shoulder and a whisper in his ear caused him to spin around. His hand automatically reached for his gun as the now familiar words echoed through his mind.

Help us!

"Dammit!" He felt an icy knife run up his spine. "What the hell is going on!" he hissed and turned back as a woman's worried voice reached his ears.

"Chris, are you alright?"

Larabee looked around the open area and realized he was standing in the center of the clearing, crouched low, his hand resting on his colt. His throat constricted as a cloying scent reached his nostrils and he staggered. Unable to take a deep breath without having the foul odor cause his stomach to roll, he sank to his knees in the street. His head pounded and he fought to quell the rising tide of nausea.

"Chris!" Molly called as she raced towards him.

The gunslinger heard her call to him as if from a distance. As quickly as the feeling came over him it left and he was able to suck in a deep breath of the sweet fresh air. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned a sweat soaked gaze at the worried woman.

"Are you okay?" she asked, not liking the gray cast of his skin.

"Y...yeah, guess the sun got to me," he lied, and climbed wearily to his feet. He swayed for a second, bent at the waist. With hands riding his tense hips, he tried to shake his head clear. He blinked his eyes, staving off the weakness invading his body and slowly walked towards the boarding house. By the time he reached the front door, he felt as if his strength had been drained from him. The gentle but firm pressure on his arm allowed him to stagger towards the room he shared with Vin Tanner.

Molly steered the dazed guest towards the room, a worried frown on her face. Something about this man tugged at her heartstrings and she wondered about the sadness she felt surrounding him. She held the door and watched as he slipped into the room.

Chris turned a grateful gaze on the woman before turning towards his friend. Vin slept on his stomach, hands under his head, and his left leg drawn slightly towards his stomach. Once he made sure his friend was okay he moved to his own bed. The late afternoon sun shone through the window as Chris sank onto the bed. He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes as Molly shut the door. In spite of the early hour, exhaustion plagued the gunslinger and he drifted into a troubled sleep It was a fetid, dismal abyss where headless corpses called out for him to help them, and skeleton hands reached for his soul.

Molly stood with her back to the door and looked towards the kitchen. She'd sent Mindy inside as soon as she saw Larabee reach for his gun. His reaction surprised her as she neither saw nor heard anything that would cause the man to reach for his gun. Once he sank to the ground she'd hurried over to him and knew something strange was going on. His face had been drawn with pain, yet she knew there was nothing wrong with him, at least nothing she could see. She heard the child calling to her and shook off the sense that something was definitely wrong with her guest.

---

Buck glanced at the woman who passed him, tipping his hat and smiling a roguish grin. He knew Ezra was still sleeping, and would probably sleep for the remainder of the afternoon. The town of Jasper was filled with excitement and the gambler's luck had been remarkable. Pot after pot was dragged in by the conman during the night, until he cleaned out every man in the fancy casino. A couple of sore losers had accused the conman of cheating. Buck knew better; Standish was no match for these amateurs. The ladies man stood by his friend during the long hours at the table. He finally escorted his friend to his room early that morning, just as the first soft rays of dawn spread her delicate fingers across the sky.

Buck hurried across the street to the restaurant. His stomach grumbled at the thought of Steak and eggs, biscuits and flapjacks. He smiled as he thought of JD and how much the kid could eat.

Might just put you to shame, Kid, he thought as he stepped into the simple room. Six patrons were present, three men and three women, enjoying the ample plates that were set before them. The tables were topped with red and white checked table cloths. He bit back a chuckle as he remembered the day Ezra had gambled and lost everything, including the shirt on his back. He'd wrapped himself in a table cloth and walked out of the saloon repeating the same words, He cheated! over and over.

Buck smiled as he took a table beside the big window and waited for someone to serve him. He smiled as a woman wearing a simple dress and white apron came towards him. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her soft grey-blue eyes twinkled mischievously. The woman reminded him of Nettie Wells and he gave her a winning smile.

"Hello, Darlin'," he said, and saw the face break out in a wondrous smile, that made the sunshine pale in comparison.

"Hello, yourself...Handsome," she said, and winked at the bold rogue.

"What can I get for ya?"

"Well, I'd like a thick, juicy steak and maybe a couple of eggs, biscuits and some of them flapjacks, and a strong cup of coffee."

"Feelin' a mite hungry are ya?" she asked, as she used a cloth to wash the top of the table.

"Just a little," Wilmington agreed.

"Ya want gravy on that steak?"

"Yes, Ma'am..."

She stood up and looked into the roguish eyes, her hands suddenly going to her hips.

"Well, now, how come we've gone from Darlin to Ma'am in such a short time?"

Buck knew if this woman was a few years younger he'd be smitten with her. The mischievous look on her face, and the twinkle in her eyes told him she was a woman who would have been a hell of a lot of fun in her younger days.

"Well, Darlin'..."

"Back ta Darlin'...my, my but you certainly know how ta make a girl feel good," she said and patted his hand as a slight blush appeared on his face.

"Why don't ya just call me Daisy?"

"Daisy," Buck said with a grin. "A pretty name for a lovely lady."

"Why thank ya, but don't let my Harvey hear ya say that. He tends ta get a mite upset when I flirt with the customers. Last man is probably pushing up daisies, and I don't mean me, out back somewhere."

Buck nearly choked at her words and again had a sense of how much fun this woman could be.

"Maybe we'd better stick with Ma'am," he said as he caught a glimpse of a grey haired man out of the corner of his eye. The man stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a large knife held in his right hand.

"Daisy, yer last order's been ready fer a while. What're ya Doin'? Ya flirtin' with that poor man?" he asked.

"Ah...No...Sir...she..."

"Don't worry about it, Son. Ain't got the energy ta go chasin' after her let alone you. What's he want, Daisy?" he asked.

"What if I said he wants me?"

"I'd say he can have ya!" the man laughed as he ducked back into the kitchen.

"Well now, ain't that gratitude for ya. Woman gives some of the best years of her life to a man and he's willin' ta turn her over ta the first man comes askin' for her." She turned away from the table and hurried into the kitchen, leaving a flabbergasted Buck Wilmington staring after her.

"Don't worry about it, Mister. Harvey and Daisy are harmless. They've been married fer longer than most of us have been on this earth. Ya won't find a better cook than Harvey, and Daisy makes the best apple pies around these parts."

Buck listened to the young man at the next table and smiled at his explanation of the elderly couple who ran the restaurant. He watched as the door opened and Daisy returned with a plate of food and a cup. She placed the meal in front of a man seated beside the kitchen and then hurried towards him with the coffee.

"Harvey's cookin' yer steak and eggs now. Should be ready in a few minutes."

"Thanks you, Ma'am," he said and took a sip of the hot liquid.

"You're welcome," she said and whispered softly. "Don't let him scare ya, Son, maybe you and I could slip away a little later." She laughed as coffee spewed from his mouth at her softly spoken words.

"Oh, Hell," Wilmington said, knowing by the look on her face he'd been had. He watched her move around the room, checking to make sure her customers were okay, before returning to the kitchen. The woman's movements were easy and sure and showed none of the signs of her age. He relaxed and looked out the window, frowning as he thought of Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. He wondered if they were back from Yuma yet and decided to telegram Four Corners as soon as he finished his breakfast.

Half an hour later, his belly full, and his ribs hurting from laughing so much, Buck walked towards the general store and telegraph office. He pushed open the door and hurried over to the counter. There were two customers ahead of him and he waited patiently for them to finish. It didn't take long for the man to serve the two women and Buck tipped his hat as they walked past him.

"Do somethin' for you, Mister?"

"Yeah, I want to send a telegram to Four Corners."

"Who do I send it to?"

"JD Dunne."

"Write the message on here," the man said as he passed Wilmington a well worn slate and piece of chalk.

Wilmington frowned as he thought of the best way to compose the message. He decided on as few words as possible and passed the slate back to the telegraph operator. The ladies man watched as the man read the message and then frowned.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as the man turned away from him.

"Are you Buck Wilmington?"

"That's right," the rogue said, worry suddenly overshadowing his good spirits.

"I got a telegram here for Buck Wilmington or Ezra Standish from Farmington." He passed the telegram to the mustached man.

"Thanks," Wilmington said as he read the message.

***Vin hurt... witnessed murder...will testify in one week...Larabee***

"Dammit!" he hissed as he read the message again.

"Something wrong?"

"Yeah. Don't send that last message to Four Corners. I need to send one to Chris Larabee in Farmington instead."

"Yes, Sir," the man said as he erased the unsent message and handed it back to the ladies' man. He quickly wrote the new message and hurried out of the store. He knew they wouldn't be able to leave today, but something told him it would be important for him and Ezra to leave for Farmington as soon as possible.

Buck made his way along the street until he came to the hotel they were staying. He smiled as he remembered Ezra talking to the woman who owned and operated The Golden Touch Hotel. The gambler talked smoothly, enthralling the elegantly dressed female with his southern dialect and gentlemanly manners. It often amazed him when Standish showed a new side of himself as he'd done since their arrival in Jasper. The man could not only fleece his unwitting peers, but could talk to the ladies as easily as he could. Before he even had a chance to speak, the gambler had them registered at the best suites in the house at a discounted price.

The scoundrel hurried through the door and across the lobby. High backed chairs, with dark brown cushions were lined along one wall. He raced up the staircase and along the well lit hallway until he came to room 22. He rapped loudly on the door and waited impatiently for an answer.

Something invaded the slumbering gambler's sleep, attempting to pull him from his dreams. He fought the interruption, not wanting to give up the stack of money in the center of the table. He looked at the five cards in his hands and knew he held every gamblers dream. A Royal Straight Flush from the ten to the ace of hearts. He folded the cards and placed them face down in front of him and called the wager from the woman across from him. He knew this was a dream, yet he was about to do something he didn't think possible.

Ezra, Sugah, you should no bettah than to bet against your mothah. Read 'em and weep! Maude Standish exclaimed as she placed her cards face up on the table, revealing a low straight flush from the three to the seven of diamonds.

Again the knock came on the door, and the gambler eased onto his left side, pulling the satiny soft sheets up over his head. "Go away!" he shouted and tried to sink back into the dream once more.

Buck pounded on the heavy door, smiling as doors opened and people stared out at him.

"Come on, Ez, I need ta talk to ya!"

Ezra looked across the table at his mother as he picked up his cards. His eyes twinkled as he looked at the woman he both loved and admired as the best gambler ever born. His dream of beating her at her own game was finally at hand. He opened his cards and was about to reveal his winning hand when the incessant pounding began in earnest.

"Not now!" he cried as, like all dreams, things began to fade and he awoke with a sense of loss. He threw the covers back and glanced angrily at the door as Wilmington's booming voice was muffled by the heavy door.

"Mr. Wilmington," he hissed as he pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around his body. Making his way to the door he released the locks. "You would be well advised to cease and desist that irritating noise or I shall be forced to shoot you myself!"

"Come on, Ez, open the damn door." The ladies man pushed his way inside and closed the door against prying ears and eyes.

"What is the meaning of waking me at such an ungodly hour?" Standish asked, walking back to his bed and sitting on the edge.

"Ain't so ungodly, Ez...not for most folks anyway..."

"Mr...."

"We need to leave..."

"What unsavoury deed did you commit that would result in our having to leave these luxurious surroundings?" Standish asked irately.

"Ain't done nothin'. It's Chris and Vin."

"What have Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner gotten themselves into that would result in our need to depart these premises?"

"Got a telegram from Chris. Him and Vin are in Farmington..."

"Why would they be in Farmington?" the gambler interrupted, frowning at the thought of the ride that lay ahead of them.

"Vin witnessed a murder and needs to testify."

"Are they alright?" he asked, a hint of worry seeping into his words.

"Chris' telegram said that Vin was hurt, but he didn't say how bad. I want to leave first thing tomorrow morning. If we ride hard we can be there late tomorrow afternoon."

"Mr..." he stopped when he realized this was not the time for formality. The man standing before him was a friend and now was not the time to distance himself. The conman could see the lines of worry on the usually playful face.

"Buck, did the telegram say how badly Vin was injured?"

"No...just says he's hurt."

"Try not to worry too much, Buck. I'm sure Chris would have said if it was something serious." He turned away, trying to hide the uneasiness creeping into his own mind and felt a slight chill settle in his body.

"Ezra, you alright?"

"I assure you I'm fine," Standish said as he turned and met the scoundrel's gaze. "I'm sure Vin will be too."

"I know he will, Ez. I just have this feeling that they'll both need us this trip. I know you're having a good run of luck at the tables but..."

"But nothing. Our friends are in need of our companionship and we shall endeavor to be there for them. I shall pack my clothes at once and we can leave within the hour."

Wilmington's eyebrows rose at the conman's words and he knew there was so much more to this man than most people saw. He smiled as he asked.

"You don't mind spending the night out in the desert?"

"I can think of worse places to spend one's nights," Standish said with a grin.

"Alright, get your things together and I'll meet you at the livery in an hour."

"We need supplies."

"I'll pick them up what we need before I meet you." Wilmington said and hurried to the door.

---

The music was soft, the crystal chandelier hung from the sedately decorated ceiling high above the heads of the lively guests. Two sets of eyes met across the dance floor, seeking each other out through the crowds of writhing bodies. Long black tuxedo clad legs stepped into the melee and green eyes sought out the beauty his eyes longed to see. He smiled as he caught sight of the blond tresses framing the face of an angel. She was the guest of honor. One he hoped would agree to be his tonight. As he reached the center of the ballroom the face he had come to love stood directly in front of him. He reached out and took the white gloved hand in his own, smiling contentedly as the twinkling blue eyes met his own. The music continued, but they remained still, enchanted by each other and ignoring everything around them. A silent bond held them to each other, one that would prove beyond a doubt that they were meant to be together. This Inn had been chosen for its elegance and charm as a place where they would finally seal their bond in a lifetime of love.

Above them, unseen by the party goers, ghastly figures waited for the feeding frenzy to begin. Demons with twisted torsos and skeletal arms waited for the signal that harvesting of new blood and flesh could begin. A lone figure stood at the front, watching the two figures meet in the center of the throng of twisting, unsuspecting bodies. Red eyes glowed in anger as the couple lost themselves in a warm embrace. This woman was meant to be his, his reward for serving the darker side of life. This man was inconsequential in the midst of his wanting need, yet the man's soul seemed to be the real reward. To take that soul, strong in the fight that had saved his own soul would prove that he was stronger than others of his kind.

He turned to his silent followers, smiling as his legions of death could not meet his eyes. This was his victory, and he would celebrate in the taste of flesh and blood. He felt the Inn surrounding him, a living structure that he was linked to. His home whenever he was allowed time in the light and warmth of the living world. He felt it breath expectantly as he stepped out onto the landing and once more gazed at the couple. They would both die this night, but the man's soul would be his, a victory to the dark side as the strong soul was pulled deeper into the darkness he'd once beaten.

"The time has come, Children. The blood of those spilled tonight will feed us in the trying times to come. You will not touch the man or woman," he ordered, knowing his legion of demons would know who he was speaking of. Tonight's victory will seal my fate and place this Inn in the world of light forever! he thought.

The red eyes glowed with the promise of fire and death as he led his followers towards the delicious temptation of unsuspecting flesh and blood.

Chris knew it was a dream, but the figure standing at the top of the spiral staircase was something that caused his heart to stop and his lungs to constrict. He heard the scream surrounding him and reached for the woman he held. Not really understanding who she was, yet knowing he had to get her to safety, he dragged her towards an open door. Winged creatures flew over his head, swooping down on the screaming guests frozen in the center of the floor. They were all strangers to him and he knew instinctively they were not meant to live through this unholy night, yet he needed to free this woman.

The door loomed ahead of him, but the opening was now covered by a demonic creature. Blood dripped from canine incisors, elongated fingers were covered in the flesh of a former victim. Red eyes glared at them as the crimson lips opened and a swarm of locusts flew from it's writhing mouth. He felt them enshroud his body, yet they didn't touch him. He pulled the woman towards him, terrified by the sense that her body was being devoured. He watched as blood ran in rivulets from the tiny wounds the insects inflicted. He heard the large creature in the door, yet he ignored what it said as he tried to protect her.

She knew she was meant to die tonight, it had been foretold to her in a dream. This man was a stranger to her, yet she knew she had to tell him, someday, when his life began, he would be given the test that would reveal the fate of the world. Whether it be as it always had been, or would dark times grow to encircle the earth, driving out the good to replace it with evil. She lifted her eyes to meet his, and gasped for breath as she felt the demon's talons sink into her back, slicing slowly down, opening flesh to reveal bone and cartilage underneath.

"You must find the journal and heed the..."

Chris gasped as the creature pulled her from his arms and twisted her perfect body until it snapped in two. Its high pitched cackles sent shivers of fear down his spine, working fingers of death into his mind and causing a scream of agony to erupt from his own mouth. He saw the razor sharp talons reach for him and screamed.

"NO!" as pain erupted in his left forearm.

---

Chest heaving as he tried to draw air into his frozen lungs, Chris sat up on the bed and screamed as his eyes shot open, the sound sharp and crystal clear in the nightmare realm, yet silent and desperate in the dim confines of the bedroom he now found himself in. He searched the lengthening shadows for the evil that had stalked him in his dreams, yet he could not remember who or what the evil was. He turned his head to the bed across the small space and was relieved to see he hadn't disturbed the injured man's sleep. Slipping his feet over the edge of the bed he ran his left hand through his sweat soaked hair. The gunslinger frowned as his eyes caught sight of a stain on his arm and he lifted the shirt off his skin. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw blood seeping from a small puncture wound on his arm.

What the hell did you do, Larabee? he thought as he reached for the cloth and cleaned the wound. He winced as the damp material touched against the small hole, but couldn't remember what caused it.

"Ya alright?"

The question came from the man lying on the other bed and Larabee could not help but smile at the sharpshooter. The unruly brown hair lay haphazardly around the pale face, and Chris could tell it was time for more laudanum. He eased off the bed, frowning at the lingering weakness, and wondering what had caused it.

"I'm fine, Vin. How are you feeling?" he asked as he moved to the tiny table and picked up the familiar brown bottle.

"Better..."

"That's good, Cowboy. Got something here for you."

"Not yet....Water first...an...and food..." the sharpshooter stated, a smile curling his lips as he watched his best friend.

Chris couldn't help but return the smile as he looked at the younger man. He placed the bottle back on the table.

"Guess we need to sit you up a bit."

"Reckon it'd help," the Texan drawled.

The gunslinger eased the tracker onto his side and piled extra pillows behind him in an effort to make him comfortable.

"Thanks, Chris," Tanner said, gratitude evident in the softly hissed words. His back throbbed from the move, but he kept it hidden from his friend. Something was going on with Larabee, but he couldn't grasp what it was.

"Anytime, Vin," the blond said and they clasped forearms awkwardly. "I'll see what Molly's got for dinner."

"...okay..." the tracker muttered, frowning as his friend moved slowly towards the door. What the Hell's wrong with ya Pard? he thought.

"We'll see," the blond said and walked towards the door. He frowned as he felt a tremor race through his body. He briefly wondered what could have caused the weakness that spread through his body so quickly. Something about the experience unnerved him, but he shook it off as he opened the door to see a pair of brown eyes looking at him.

"Hi, Chris."

"Hi, Mindy," he said and scooped the child into his arms.

"Molly and me made dinner. Are you hungry?"

"I sure am, Darling, and so is Vin," the gunslinger assured her.

"Is Vin coming out to eat with us?"

"Not yet...maybe tomorrow..." he saw the disappointment in her eyes and smiled at her. "Hmm, something smells good."

"Me and Molly made dinner," she said excitedly as he carried her back to the kitchen.

"That's great!" He smiled as he placed her on the floor and a familiar aroma reached his hungry senses. There was no mistaking the meal Molly Richmond was preparing, and Chris smiled as a haunting memory returned once more. He saw Sarah standing at the pot bellied stove, her face lit with the magical smile he would always associate with a happier time in his life. He shook his head as he felt a small hand slip into his own. Chris smiled at her as she led him to the table.

"How are you feeling, Chris?" Molly asked as she placed the large black pot in the center of the table.

"I'm fine, Molly, smells great."

"That's good, Chris. Hope you like chicken and dumplin's," she said.

"Always been a favorite of mine," Larabee told her as he picked up a plate and filled it for his friend. He poured a glass of the tart lemonade and smiled at the owner of the boarding house.

"I'll get Vin settled and be right back," he said and turned back to the bedroom.

Molly watched the blond carefully. Something happened in the middle of the clearing that afternoon, yet she couldn't figure out what it was. She knew it had something to do with Chris Larabee, but why she felt that she didn't know. A shudder ran through her frame as she watched him make his way towards the bedroom.

You've got some more trials ahead of ya, Chris Larabee. Some dark ones from the feel of things, she thought. She looked towards the child sitting at the table and prayed her grandparents would be able to care for her. To give her the happiness all children deserved and all adults craved.

Chris stepped into the room, placed the food and drink on the small table and hurried to his friend's side. The blue eyes were closed, but he could tell the patient wasn't sleeping. He eased the hair back off the pale face and watched as pale lids peeled back over soft orbs.

"Bout...time...man could starve ta death," Tanner groused good naturedly.

Larabee's eyebrows shot up and he smiled mischievously.

"Could always take it back," he said.

"N...no, that's al...alright," the tracker stammered, shifting slightly on the bed. "Wasn't that...long."

Larabee pulled the table closer to his friend. He smiled as the sharpshooter's stomach grumbled in anticipation.

"Think you can manage on your own?"

"Ain't needed nobody feedin' me since..."

"The last time you were stuck at Nathan's clinic," Larabee said with a grin.

"Damn," the tracker said and reached for the fork. "Git yer dinner, Lar'bee. I kin handle this on my own."

"Alright, just call if you need anything, Vin," the blond insisted.

"I will, now git."

Chris stood up and made his way to the door. He turned and watched the tracker struggle with the simple task of eating, yet he knew better than to offer his help. The tracker was an independent man, and would take the offer as a sign that others saw his weakness.

"Ain't gonna break, Lar'bee."

"I know." Chris smiled as he turned away from the reassuring words spoken by his friend. He made his way back to the kitchen, frowning at the slight burning sensation around the wound in his arm.

---

Vin winced as he shifted a little on the bed. He looked at the meal set on the table before him and picked up the fork. His position on the bed made it awkward, but he managed to get the first forkful into his mouth. While he ate, he tried to figure out what was bothering him about his friend. Since leaving Four Corners Chris seemed to have been distracted and it was steadily getting worse.

What the fuck's goin' on with ya, Chris? he thought, his appetite slowly disappearing as he worried about his friend. He knew if he didn't eat, Larabee would just worry about him, and the was something he didn't want right now. He had a tendency to be protective, sometimes overly so when it came to his friends. Slowly, but surely the chicken and dumplings disappeared from the plate as he ate without realizing it.

When it came to Chris Larabee he had a sixth sense, and right now it was working overtime. Something was wrong with the gunslinger, but exactly what he didn't know. He placed the fork on the empty plate and picked up he glass of juice. Drinking was a little harder, but he managed and finally lay back against the pillows, gasping as sharp spasms raced through his back.

"Dammit!" he hissed as he tried to find a comfortable spot. He tried to calm his breathing, hoping the pain would recede if he did. The agony diminished slightly, and with his remaining strength he twisted no the bed until he was lying flat once more. He drifted towards sleep no a sea of pain, is soft vow falling on the silence of the room.

"Whatever's happening, Lar'bee, I'll be there!" The soft breeze lifted the curtains from the window as a dark shadow formed and wavered outside. A draft of frigid air flowed over Vin Tanner and the young man shivered in spite of the warmth surrounding him.

"You won't get him!" the tracker vowed as he slipped into an unconscious state. His dreams were filled with images of a beautiful angel with iridescent blue grey eyes and shimmering silver hair. Her voice held a soothing quality, yet the message she gave him sent shivers through his subconscious.

Only you can save him, Vin Tanner, but you will need their help!

"Need their help," the Texan drawled, but didn't awaken as the vision faded from his dreams.

---

Chris sat at the table and looked up as he felt someone watching him. He smiled at the friendly woman as he picked up his plate and helped himself to the delicious smelling meal. His mouth watered in anticipation, but his stomach churned at the thought of putting anything into it.

"Chris, are you alright?" Molly asked softly, not wanting to alarm the child seated next to the blond.

"I'm fine, Molly," Larabee assured her, in spite of the weariness seeping into his body. He knew he wouldn't be able to eat much, but he didn't want to worry the friendly lady.

"Chris, me and Molly are gonna go for a walk after dinner. You want to come with us?"

Larabee smiled at the child and hugged her to him, feeling the warmth and excitement only small children seemed to exude. He tickled her under the chin and couldn't help but laugh with her.

"Mindy, I need to stay with Vin." He saw the disappointment in her eyes and hugged her to him. "I'm so..."

The little girl pulled away slightly and smiled through her tears.

"It's okay, Chris. I know Vin is hurt...so you need to help him. I'm a big girl now... Auntie Fran said so 'cause I was the only one left..."

Chris held her while she cried, knowing this was just what she needed. He looked up at Molly and noted her eyes were also filled with unshed moisture. He continued to hold Mindy as she cried, softly sobbing for her mother and father as she held tightly to his lean frame.

Mindy felt safe in his arms and clung to him tightly as she cried. She felt safe now, but she missed her parents and her aunt. She knew she would be going to stay with her grandparents when they arrived. For now she wanted nothing more than to be held by this man who was the closest thing to family she had. She knew he was worried about Vin and she lifted her head as the last of the tears left her eyes.

"'Sposed to be a big girl," she said as she used her small fingers to wipe at her face.

"You are a big girl, Mindy..." Larabee told her.

"Not big...crying..."

"Everyone cries, Mindy," the blond said, remembering his own tears at the loss he still held in his heart. The deep sadness of never seeing his child grow up, or having his wife beside him.

"They do?"

"Yes, Honey, they do," he assured her.

"You don't," Mindy said, frowning as she saw how untrue that was. She touched her finger to his eye and frowned at the wetness there. "How come you're crying, Chris? Is it 'cause you miss your family?"

Larabee smiled at the little girl and kissed her forehead, before answering.

"Yes, Mindy," he answered honestly and sat her in the chair next to him.

"Will we ever see them again?" the child asked.

"Someday," he said wistfully and lifted her chin once more. "But not for a long time. You'll be seeing your grandparents before long and they'll need you and l...love you just like your Ma and Pa did."

"They will?" she asked, her eyes bright and hopeful.

"Of course they will. Now are you ready to eat?"

"Hmm, hmm, me and Molly cooked it."

Chris smiled as he took his first taste of the meal and knew he wouldn't be able to eat much as his stomach continued to churn. What the hell's going on? he thought as his forearm burned once more.

The rest of the meal passed in silence and Chris managed to finish off what was on his plate. The meal sat heavily on his stomach as he stood up to help clear the table. Again, a wave of nausea assaulted him, but he fought to keep is discomfort from showing.

Molly watched her guest and knew he was still feeling the effects of whatever happened in the clearing. She knew Larabee and his friend were special and wondered just what kind of test they had ahead of them. As a child, her mother told her she'd been gifted with insight. Sometimes she was able to read people and signs easily, but in this case it was just a vague sense of unease. She knew in her heart it would be a hard road for these two, yet she knew they would not be alone. There were others out there who would also become entangled in whatever evil, for that's what this was, waited for these men. She shuddered as if something evil touched her soul and turned to see a shadow fall across the window.

"Molly, are you okay?" the gunslinger asked as the woman stood frozen in place. "Molly?"

"Huh?" she shook off the icy chill and forced a smile to her face. "Sorry, Chris, was just daydreaming. You look tired. Why don't you go lie down for a while."

"I'm fine, Molly, but I'd like to check on Vin."

"You go right ahead. Me and Mindy can handle the dishes. Right?"

"Can I wash?" the child asked as she picked up her plate and brought it to the counter.

"Sure can," Molly agreed, following Chris to the room he shared with the sharpshooter. "I'll just get the dirty dishes," she said as they walked into the room.

Chris moved to the bed and frowned at the beads of sweat forming on the tracker's forehead. He saw Molly remove the dishes and heard her leave the room. He reached out and touched his friend's arm, gasping at the clammy feel of the skin. He pulled the blankets up over the shivering form and took the one form his own bed to add to the blanket covering his friend. He took the washcloth from the small table and washed the perspiration from the pale face.

The blond sank heavily onto the chair between the beds and watched the tracker as he slept. There was something tense about the set of the strong shoulders, but he didn't know what caused it. He watched until the tension left the lean body and the face relaxed in sleep. Chris touched the forehead, sighing in relief as he felt the warmth of the skin. Vin now looked almost childlike, with his arms tucked under his head and his long hair spread across the pillow.

Chris sat back, watching over Tanner, feeling the icy tendrils of fear creeping into his mind and praying whatever was happening to him would not be able to touch those he cared about. He lost track of time as he stood vigil over his injured friend. Unconsciously his right hand touched the puncture wound in his arm, rubbing against the burning itch that continued unabated.

The shadows lengthened through the room as the dying daylight gave way to twilight and finally darkness. Chris finally stood up and stumbled to his bed, sinking into its welcoming warmth. His sleep was far from warm as nightmare images began to seep into the dreams, twisting them into horrific nightmares from which he could not escape.

---

Buck rode slightly ahead of Ezra, his body weary from too many long hours in the saddle. Darkness was spreading across the badlands and he knew they'd have to call a halt or risk injury to the horses. He looked up towards the sky and frowned at the red rimmed moon. A shiver ran down his spine, and he turned to see the gambler looking at him.

"We need to stop and care for the horses," Standish said softly, his body aching tiredly.

"Yeah, guess we'd better call it a night. We can make camp over in those rocks," the scoundrel suggested and the two men rode towards the small shelter.

"Are you sure you don't want to continue?"

"We won't be any good to Vin or Chris if we ride into Farmington and pass out," Wilmington said. "We'll head out at first light."

The two dismounted in the small circle of rocks, making sure the animals were ground tied before they set up camp. The night was surprisingly quiet, the moon high overhead, and a myriad of flickering stars casting an eerie blanket from horizon to horizon. Normally both men would have noted the silence, the almost absence of life, but their minds were on the two men in Farmington.

Ezra found the makings for a small fire and soon a soft glow brightened the immediate area, a circle of light in a world of darkness. He reached for the extra canteen and the coffee pot, and began making a small meal for him and his companion.

Buck removed the saddles from both horses and brushed them down before moving to the fire with the bedrolls. He spread them out on opposite sides of the tiny blaze and smiled as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached him.

"Coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks," Wilmington said, accepting the cup gratefully and settling down by the fire.

"I'm afraid our repast tonight will be a meager one," Standish told him as he tossed a couple of biscuits to the ladies man.

"Ain't all that hungry anyway. Thanks, Ez."

The gambler knew by the tone of Buck's voice that he was more than a little worried about Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. His own fears were growing stronger, yet he could not find a reason for them. He sank onto his own bedroll and watched the man across from him. He knew of Buck's penchant for having fun in just about any situation, but when the time came to help one of the others, the ladies man could be counted on. The scoundrel was a man who could be counted on, a man whose friendship was earned, not made.

"Hey, Ez, you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Wilmington. Why do you ask?"

"You seemed like you were miles away."

"I assure you I am not planning on going anywhere," Standish told him as he settled down on the uncomfortable ground. "Unless you know of more comfortable accommodations in the area."

"'Fraid not, just gonna have to get used to it," the ladies man said softly.

"Oh, the indignity," the gambler said and closed his eyes.

Buck watched as the conman closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable. He smiled as he thought of the first time they rode together and how much Ezra Standish changed since that day he'd ran out on them, but something inside of him knew it was wrong and he came back to free them from Anderson's Ghosts of the Confederacy. Since that time he proved again and again that he could be trusted. Buck sighed heavily and lay back, closing his eyes as he settled down for the night.

The two men slept under the stars, unaware of the proximity to the circle of death they were. Neither man heard the painful cries of a Bobcat as it wandered to close to the pit of energy and was sucked into the first few inches. It's cries abruptly ended in a burst of blood, tearing cartilage, and ripping flesh. It's destroyed carcass joining the bones of previous victims. The unnatural stillness of the night returned as a great horned howl bypassed the circle, unwittingly saving its own life.

---

Vin opened his eyes and listened for the sound that awakened him. He lifted his head and used his arms to push himself upwards. He bit back a cry of pain as stiff muscles were forced to hold his body up on the bed. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he watched as his best friend struggled with an unseen foe.

"Chris!" he called, but his voice was weak from sleep and lack of moisture. He tried to sit up, but the movement sent rippling waves of pain through his body. He gasped, and sucked air into his lungs as he was forced to remain lying no the bed as his friend continued in the throes of some kind of nightmare only he could see.

"C...Ch....ris..." he called, painfully aware of his own inadequacies due to his injury. "Lar'...bee..." he cried out and heard a sharp intake of breath from across the room. "...Chris..."

The soft voice was like an anchor on a sea of evil and Chris Larabee reached for it...struggling to grab it and hang onto it for dear life. He heard the pain filled cries and knew he had to help his friend. Slowly, as if through a layer of thick cobwebs he surfaced and felt the evil retreat. His eyes came fully open and the nightmare was instantly forgotten as he sat up. The gunslinger turned to his friend, unaware of the blood oozing from the puncture wound in his arm. The ugly wound was the only remnant of the foul nightmare he'd suffered. A deadly reality left over from horrifying images he wouldn't remember for some time to come. He stood up and hurried across the tiny space, kneeling beside the bed.

"Hey, Vin, take it easy," the blond said as his eyes adjusted and he saw the lines of pain etched in the sweat soaked forehead.

"...are...ya...okay?"

Larabee's eyebrows rose as he reached for the lamp and lit the wick. "Me? Hell, Tanner, it's you that's hurt."

"...nightmare..."

"You had a nightmare?" the gunslinger asked.

" ...weren't me...ya was tusslin' with somethin'..."

"If I did, I don't remember it."

"...bad one...cried out," the tracker said tiredly.

"It's gone now, Vin. How's the back?"

"...same..."

Larabee reached for the brown bottle and poured a dose into the spoon. He lifted Tanner's head and awkwardly fed him the medicine, concerned when the tracker didn't balk at the idea. He eased the sharpshooter back to the bed and covered him in blankets once more.

"Go on back to sleep, Vin," he said as the blue eyes began to close.

"Gotta w...watch yer b...back," the younger man hissed as he shifted slightly on the bed.

"You always do, Pard," Larabee said as his friend lost the battle to stay awake. Chris frowned as he tried to remember the nightmare Vin told him he'd been having. Whatever it was it wasn't there anymore and he leaned back in the chair, locking his hands behind his head. Something wet ran down his left cheek and he brought his arms forward again.

"What the hell," he mumbled as a steady stream of blood ran down his arm and dripped onto the floor. He reached for the cloth on the table and put pressure on the wound. It didn't take long to stop the flow of blood and he wondered where the wound came from. He touched his fingertip against the puffy wound and winced at the heat he felt there. Standing up, he headed back to his own bed, his body exhausted once more.

Have Molly take a look at it in the morning, he thought as he dropped onto the mattress and quickly dropped into a dreamless sleep, his body craving the rest it needed.

---

"Hey, JD, what's wrong?" Jackson asked as he watched the younger man walking towards him. He was sitting outside the small church, relaxing with Josiah Sanchez.

"I just got a telegram from Chris."

"Did they make it to Jasper okay?" Sanchez asked.

"No. According to this they're in Farmington," the youngest member of the team said.

"Farmington? What are they doing there?" the healer inquired.

"Vin witnessed a murder and he's hurt," the kid explained.

Jackson was immediately at attention. "Hurt? How bad?"

Dunne handed the telegram to the healer and watched as he read the simple missive.

***Vin hurt...not serious... witnessed murder...will testify in one week...Larabee***

"Not serious he says," Jackson hissed. "Knowing Chris it could be anything from a hangnail to..."

"Broken bones," Sanchez finished.

"Or worse," the kid supplied. "Sent an answer back asking about the murder and if Chris needs our help."

"Good, JD, that's about all ya coulda done right now," Jackson said.

Dunne nodded and turned away from the two men. "I'm gonna check on Jake at the jail and see if he's sobered up from last night."

"Alright, JD, just make sure you let us know when you hear from Chris," Sanchez said.

"I will, Josiah," the youth said as he hurried away.

Jackson turned to the ex-preacher, frowning when he saw the older man staring at the street leading out of town. He reached out and touched his right hand against Sanchez' left shoulder, surprised when the man reacted as if he'd been burnt.

"Josiah, are you alright?"

Sanchez turned a steady gaze on his friend and forced a smile to his face.

"I'm fine, Nathan," he said softly.

"I know you, Josiah, something's eating at you. Does it have to do with Chris and Vin or Buck and Ezra?"

Sanchez stood up and paced back and forth in front of the church, his eyes coming to rest on the tree standing just to the right of it.

"I'm not sure. It could be either or all of them," the man whispered worriedly.

"Did you see your crows again?" Jackson asked. There was nothing condescending in his question and he knew Josiah would see it for what it was. The concern of a friend.

The ex-preacher stood beside the door to the church, is eyes raking over the horizon. Without realizing he'd stopped facing northeast, into the Bisti Badlands.

"I've been seeing them for a few days now. Not close up like they usually are and I'm hoping that means things are not set in stone. There's something brewing out there, Brother, and it has to do with our little family." He shivered as an icy chill ran down his spine, knowing in his heart that something evil was lying in wait for an unsuspecting victim.

"Do you want to ride out and meet them?"

"I don't think it would do any good, Nathan. Nothing's happened yet, and until it does we won't be of any help."

Jackson knew the older man was even more worried than he let on. He watched as Sanchez walked inside the church, shivering as his own eyes wandered towards the distant horizon. He knew the fact that Vin was hurt was not the cause of their unease, yet he couldn't put his finger on what was the cause. Picking up his empty coffee cup he walked into the street and made his way towards the clinic.

The healer was unaware of the large black crow that landed on the roof of Gloria Potter's store. The eyes were not black, but a crimson red that seemed to bleed from the icy bowels of hell. The head swivelled back and forth, seeking out the men who were part of a special family. One that was formed by the bonds of friendship, and not born of the same blood. For that was the only thing that could end the hope of a dark future. A true brother by blood, and for this reason Hell would soon reign over the land of the living, sucking the life from any who dared deny them this right. The eyes glowed a darker red as the crow took flight, seeking a direct line towards the circle of corruption.

---

Buck opened his eyes, groaning as he sat up, the remnants of his dreams leaving him chilled to the bones. The sun hadn't made its presence known yet, but the aroma of fresh coffee hit him. He stood up and moved towards the coffee pot, shaking his head at the sight of the gambler sitting on the opposite side of the fire.

"Ezra, ya know the others won't believe me when I tell them you were up before the birds."

"They will if you tell them about the despicable accommodations," Standish said. The truth was he didn't sleep very well at all. His dreams were unclear now, but the terror they evoked in him was stronger than he thought possible. He'd woken over an hour ago and knew he couldn't face the images from his nightmare. His hands continued to grip the cup in an effort to ward of the chill that was taking up residence in his body.

"Ez, are you alright?" Wilmington asked worriedly.

Standish thought about giving one of his blustering remarks, but something about the scoundrel's tone told him the other man would see right through it.

"I will be once we arrive in Farmington and hopefully discover they have the softest feather beds in the country," he said.

"I take it you didn't sleep too well?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" the gambler asked, trying to keep the mood light as the first rays of the sun seemed to peek over the wastelands.

"Could be the extra bags you're packin'," the ladies man said with a grin.

"If you're referring to my eyes, then you haven't had the opportunity to gaze into a mirror lately," the younger man said.

"Okay, so neither one of us had much sleep. So why don't we pack it up and head towards Farmington," Wilmington said. He stood up and frowned as he finally noticed what was missing since they'd bedded down the night before.

"Is there a problem, Buck?" Standish asked, noting the slight tremor in the older man's body.

"I'm not sure. Just listen, Ez."

The two men stood beside the fire, neither one moving or saying a word as they listened to the silence. It was the gambler who broke the silence.

"What am I supposed to be listening to?"

"Nothing...that's just it, Ezra. There's nothing to listen to. There should be some sounds out here."

"This is The Bisti Badlands, Mr. Wilmington. Perhaps that would explain it."

"I don't think so. If Vin was here he'd tell ya that an absence of sound is a sign of trouble. It usually means somethin's scared the animals away," the ladies man told him.

"Our illustrious tracker would certainly know."

"Yes, he would. There's somethin' not right out here."

"In that case might I suggest we leave the vicinity immediately!"

"Y...yeah, the faster we're away from here the better. I'll get the horse saddled while you take care of this, okay?" the ladies man asked as he emptied his cup into the fire.

"That's fine, Buck," the gambler said and began dousing the fire with sand as the older man walked towards the horses.

Glowing red eyes watched from the dwindling darkness as the two friends broke camp. With a silent caw, the black bird took flight and finished its journey to its home in the evil that permeated throughout the circle.

---

Vin opened his eyes and frowned as his sleep drenched mind tried to grasp where he was. Sunlight was streaming through the open curtains, lending a soft warmth to the room. He shifted uneasily on the bed, the memory of pain still sharp in is awakening mind. He was pleasantly surprised to find dull throbbing pain instead of the sharp agony movement usually caused. He turned on his side, puffing as he realized he was still weak and the pain was not as easy as he first thought. His eyes strayed to the sleeping man in the other bed, and something tugged at him, just out of reach of his memory. He tried to sit up, but bit back a gasp as the dormant pain grew stronger with each move.

"Dammit!" He swore as he dropped back down on the bed, sweat beading on his forehead.

Chris heard the soft expletive and forced tired eyes to open. He looked towards the second bed and realized the younger man was awake. He swung his legs over the side and sat up, moving quickly towards his friend.

"Easy, Vin, what happened?" he asked, reaching for the cloth in the basin of water on the table and handed it to his friend.

"W...wanted ta sit fer a s...spell," the tracker answered, as he used the cloth to wash the last dregs of sleep from his face.

Chris knew the younger man hated being down, but even worse was being unable to get outside. The tracker was in his element when dealing with nature, but he didn't like being confined indoors. He placed a soothing hand on the sharpshooter's shoulder and nodded slightly.

"Wait till Dr. O'Malley takes a look at you, Vin. If he says it's okay we'll see about getting you outside for a while."

"When is he comin'?"

"Said he'd be by late this morning," Larabee assured him.

The tracker nodded and studied the face before him. He'd grown to know when something was bothering Larabee and he could see in the expressive green orbs that he wasn't getting much sleep.

"What's goin' on, Lar'bee?" he asked, shifting sideways on the bed.

The gunslinger shook his head, stood up and walked to the window. He looked into the street, shivering once more in spite of the warmth of the sun.

"Chris?" Tanner repeated, finishing the question with a penetrating blue gaze.

Larabee took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't keep anything from this man, and turned back to his friend.

"I can't explain it, Vin. It's like I know something's wrong, but I don't know what it is."

"Does it have anything ta do with Clark?"

"No...don't think so. That bastard's locked up tight and can't hurt anyone. Sheriff Thompson's a good man and he'll make sure of that. Judge Spencer will be here in a couple of days and once you and Mindy testify he'll get what he deserves. It won't be long before Mindy is with her grandparents and hopefully she can put all of this behind her."

The tracker knew instinctively there was more to it than that. Larabee rarely made long speeches and the fact that he did now, worried the younger man. He watched as the blond unconsciously rubbed his left arm, as if it pained him.

"Chris, what's wrong with yer arm?"

"Huh?" the blond mumbled and looked down at his hand, frowning as he tried to understand what was happening.

"Yer arm?"

"My arm?" he asked, his eyes glazed as he lifted them to meet the sharpshooter's. "Nothing, why?"

"Ya keep rubbing it...lemme see," he ordered, reaching for the blond's arm.

"It's okay, Vin, just itchy," Larabee lied.

"Ya cain't lie worth a damn, Lar'bee!" Tanner snapped.

Chris sat next to the bed and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, wincing as the material peeled away from the small wound. He looked at it and then smiled at his friend.

"Told you it was nothing."

"Don't look like much," the tracker agreed as he probed the wound. "Looks like it could be a mite infected. Better have the doc look at it."

Larabee nodded and rolled his sleeve back down.

"Hungry?" he asked simply.

"Yer kiddin', right?" the tracker answered with a grin.

"I'll see if Molly's got any leftovers," the blond said, moving towards the door.

Vin lifted his head and watched as the gunslinger walked away from his bed. There was something about the slump of the shoulders and the unsteady gait that bothered him. Larabee was usually so graceful when he moved, but today that grace had been replaced by an unknown quality. Something he couldn't quite grasp, but vowed he would figure it out before anything happened.

---

The crow flew gracefully towards the circle, soaring high above the badlands. It's dark wings spread wide as if to capture the darkness it was seeking. It cawed loudly as it neared its domain. The head swiveled as it gazed upon the land below him. The desert foliage was thick here and it's keen eyesight spotted a gopher below it. It swooped down, hooking the tiny animal with its talons, before flying high in the air, its prey held captive in it's claws. The bird shuddered as the lifeblood flowed from the puncture wounds it caused in the rodent's body. It continued on towards the beckoning circle, dropping the dead gopher without feeding upon its flesh. The crow was satiated by the force of the fear it empowered over its prey and did not need the flesh as its children did. This killing was not about survival, but simply its way of showing dominance over a fellow creature.

It continued on its flight path until it felt the strange tingling sensation provided by the energy emanating from the other demons residing within. The creature was enamored of the lives it destroyed and kept the souls close at hand by burying the body within the walls of its home. The Inn itself would soon rise again, spreading its own dark shadow across the land, but for now it waited for his call. A call that was close at hand and one that was eagerly awaiting to be fed.

The bird dropped gracefully from the sky, the wings becoming arms, the legs elongating and taking human form. The feathers evolving into skin, as the bones strengthened and completed the human shape. The only remaining sign of the crow was the crimson eyes that glowed with an unholy light as the ground around the being began to take on a life of its own once more.

"The time is almost at hand!" the demon whispered, his words bringing the beings he thought of as children before him. Creatures with hideous deformities, and green glowing eyes slithered towards the man they called master. A creature whose heart was as black as the deepest ebony, yet cast a light over the darkened circle that burned the life from anything that entered without his permission.

"He will be brought to us before the next full moon and he will take his place at my side! Rest, my children, for soon we will feast upon the flesh of those who walk this world of light. Their blood will soon fill our bellies, their fears will give us the strength we need. We will soon rejoice in the renewal of our hold upon this land. Sleep, children, and dream of the wonders that are to come," the being said as he spread his hands and a crimson glow was cast across the horizon.

---

Molly opened the door and smiled at the man standing in front of it. O'Malley held the black bag in his hand, a gift from the grateful citizens of Farmington. The kit was a familiar sign of who this man was, and what his revered place in the community.

"Afternoon, Molly, how's the patient?" O'Malley, asked.

"He's anxious to see you...something about sick and tired of bein' stuck in bed," Molly said with a smile.

"Yeah," the doctor said as he stepped through the door. "He doesn't seem like the type to stay down long."

"Is there anything you need?" the woman asked.

O'Malley smiled as he turned down the hallway, and stopped before the closed door.

"Got any of that Apple pie you made yesterday?"

"I think I might have one piece left..."

"Lemonade?"

"I'll see what I can do," she laughed as he knocked on the door.

---

Chris sat in the chair beside the window, listening to his friend's soft snores. The younger man seemed so vulnerable with his hands on his arms and his hair spread across the pillow. There was no hint of pain in the slack features and the gunslinger was glad of that. His eyes wandered to the small bandage he'd placed over the wound in his arm and he wondered about he slight burning sensation that came from the puncture site. He wondered if it had anything to do with his lack of energy, but shook it off as a soft rap sounded on the door.

The blond stood and stretched as he made his way across the small room and eased the door open. He smiled at the man standing there and gestured for him to enter.

"Hello, Doc."

"Hi, Chris, how's the patient doing?" the doctor asked.

"He seems better," Larabee said simply.

"F...feels better," the Texan drawled softly, a hint of a smile on his face as he looked at the two men standing over him.

"Well, that's good news at least. Molly says you want to get up."

"Yeah, back's not so bad," Vin explained as he tried to move.

"Now hold on there until I get a chance to take a look!" O'Malley ordered, pulling the chair closer to the bed. He heard a small sound escape the Texan's throat and smiled as he realized the young man was indeed feeling better. He eased the blankets off the tracker's shoulders and moved it down towards his waist.

"Hey!" the younger man said as the covering was lowered and the cool air hit his bare skin.

"This won't take long, Vin, but I need to see if the swelling has gone down," O'Malley explained as he probed the injured area.

Chris stood by the window, watching as the physician explored the area around the Texan's hips. He winced sympathetically when the expert fingers touched a particularly sensitive area, and a muffled curse escaped Tanner's lips.

"Sorry, Vin, but I think you're right. The swelling has gone down some."

"I can git up?" the sharpshooter asked hopefully.

"Well, you can, but not without help. I don't want you doing anything that could re-injure your back."

"Ain't plannin' on..."

"Now, Vin, I know you're not planning on doing anything to hurt it again, but there are a few more things to talk about," O'Malley explained. "I don't want you sitting for long periods of time, start with maybe twenty minutes..."

"Twenty minutes!" the Texan said irritably.

"That's right twenty minutes!" the doctor reiterated. "I have a feeling you won't argue once you've been sitting half that long."

"Damn!" Vin hissed painfully.

"I'm sorry, but back injuries are tricky," O'Malley explained looking from one man to the other.

"He'll do as you say, Doc," Larabee assured the man, smiling at the stubborn Texan as he spoke.

"Make sure he does, Chris. Oh, the sheriff wanted me to tell you he'd like to see you when you get the chance."

"Alright," the gunslinger said as Tanner stared at him.

"The Sheriff?" the Texan inquired with a stifled sigh.

"Probably wants to let us know when Judge Spencer gets here."

"Hope it's soon. Sonofabitch deserves ta hang!" the blue eyes were filled with anger at the thought of Clark's victims.

"He will, Vin," Larabee assured his friend.

Tanner's eyes came to rest on the bandage wrapped around Larabee's left forearm. He could see a tiny circle of crimson in the center of the stark whiteness.

"Chris, Doc oughta look at yer arm," he said softly. The tone told Larabee he'd make a point of forcing the issue if the blond didn't do as he suggested.

O'Malley turned to the gunslinger and frowned as he saw the bandage. "What happened?" he asked simply.

"Don't know," Larabee answered honestly.

The doctor frowned as Larabee turned away from them and seemed engrossed in whatever he was thinking about. He waited a few seconds longer before speaking, hoping more information would be forthcoming from the tight-lipped man.

"Well, let me take a look." O'Malley indicated the gunslinger should sit on the second bed and turned the chair to take care of the wound.

Chris sank gratefully onto the bed, his energy reserve dwindling quickly as he looked into the concerned blue eyes of his best friend. He shook his head imperceptibly, but knew the tracker understood the message that he was okay. He untied the bandage and winced as once more the material was stuck to the wound.

O'Malley looked on in concern and finally reached for the blond's arm. He frowned at the red swollen area and using his finger gently pressed on both sides. A small amount of bloodied puss oozed from the wound and he looked up at the pain filled green eyes.

"When did this happen?" he asked.

"I think it was last night, but I can't be sure," the blond said as the fingers continued to press down on his arm.

"There's a bit of infection here and I'm going to have to clean it properly. Do you need something for pain?" the doctor asked, amazed at the lines of pain on the gunslinger's face.

"N...no," Larabee stammered.

"Alright," the physician said as he reached for a piece of bandage in his bag. He pressed it against the now bleeding wound and stood up.

"You keep pressure on that while I get some fresh water and carbolic," he ordered.

Larabee nodded his head and watched the man leave. He knew instinctively that Tanner was watching him and finally met the steady gaze.

"It's nothing, Vin."

"Then why do ya look like hell?"

"Doc caught me off guard's all," the blond said, smiling as he realized the younger man could see right through his weak assurances.

The two men had never needed words to convey what they were feeling and this was no exception. Chris could tell the Texan didn't believe him for an instant, but was willing to wait until he was ready to explain. Problem was Chris didn't know how to explain what was happening to him, he couldn't even explain it to himself. He looked at the door as O'Malley returned with a basin of water and some clean material.

"Alright, Chris, let's get that cleaned up," the doctor said. He set the container of water on the small table and reaching into his bag for the bottle of carbolic acid he kept there.

Chris held his arm out to he doctor, hiding the pain the movement caused. He felt the doctor cleaning the wound, pressing once more to be sure the infection was cleared out. Again his eyes met the man across the room and he smiled in spite of the worry he saw in the deep blue pools.

I'm fine, he sent.

Sure, so'm I, Tanner sent back.

"Chris, are you sure you don't know how this happened?" O'Malley asked.

"Chris?"

Larabee shook his head and turned towards the doctor.

"Sorry, Doc, what was that?"

"I asked if you were sure you didn't know how this happened?"

"No idea," Larabee told him, as the man wrapped a clean bandage around the wound and tied it off.

"Well, I've cleaned it, but I want you to come see me if it starts to show signs of the infection returning," O'Malley ordered.

"I will, thanks, Doc."

"You're welcome," the physician said and turned back to the other bed. "Do you feel like getting up for a short time?"

"Hell, yeah!" the tracker winced as he tried to sit up.

"Now, I told you to let us help you," O'Malley berated softly. "Chris, Can you give us a hand here?"

Larabee moved to help sit the younger man up. Between them they managed to get the young man seated on the side of the bed and held him in place while beads of sweat formed on the shaking body.

"Let's get you into some clothes," Larabee said.

"Can you two manage on your own, Chris, or do you need my help?" the doctor asked.

"We can handle it," the gunslinger said, watching the tracker closely.

"Alright, then, just holler if you need me," O'Malley said before leaving the two friends alone.

Vin tried to calm his breathing and ignored the sharp talons of pain in his back. He knew the doctor wouldn't allow him to move if it would cause more harm than good, and he was grateful to the strength on his left side. He turned to face the gunslinger and smiled weakly at him.

Neither man spoke as Larabee reached for Tanner's discarded clothing and placed it on the bed beside him.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Larabee asked.

"...think so..." the Texan drawled and reached for his pants. He knew it would be impossible to do this on his own and turned to his friend. He saw the smile and knew the gunslinger understood what was needed.

Chris eased the tracker's long legs into the pants and eased him up on his feet.

"Just hang onto me!" Larabee ordered and felt the strong hands clamp onto his shoulders as he tugged the pant's up over the lean, well muscled thighs and hips. He met the younger man's steady gaze and saw a slight smile on the handsome face.

"What?"

"Good thing Buck ain't here!" the tracker drawled as Larabee's hands eased him back down

Larabee nodded in agreement, realizing his long time friend would find some way to tease the injured man. Buck was a man he'd trust with his life, had done so often in fact, and was alive to prove the trust was well placed. The man also had a tendency to make light jokes and right now he had enough ammunition.

It didn't take long to get the rest of the clothes on the younger man and Chris reached for the well-worn boots. He slipped them onto Tanner's feet and stood up, stretching his own taut muscles before meeting the sharpshooter's eyes.

"Ready?"

The Tanner head bobbed once and reached for his friend's helping hand.

It took the two men five minutes to cover the short distance down the hall to the front porch. They stopped to give the younger man a chance to rest, and Chris wondered if it was such a good idea to move the tracker. He smiled as Molly passed them and held the door open. Once outside in the bright afternoon sunshine all doubts left him as he gazed at his friend. The pain was still evident in the younger man's face, but there was also a look of rapture. Something akin to pure joy in the blue eyes when he was returned to the outside world. It didn't seem to matter that they were in a strange town. Vin Tanner was in his glory, and the pain he endured seemed minor in comparison to the chance to be outside.

"T...thanks," the sharpshooter said once they'd eased him down on the chair.

"You just make sure you let us know when you're ready to go back inside," O'Malley warned as he joined them on the porch.

"I will," the Texan assured him, smiling as Molly Richmond came towards him with a glass of lemonade and a piece of pie.

"Thank ya, Ma'am," he said as he accepted the plate and the woman placed the glass on the railing within his reach.

"That better not be my pie, Molly," O'Malley warned, the grin on his face belying the severity of his words.

"Plenty more where that come from," the woman said and turned to the gunslinger. "Chris, I'll bring you out a piece as well."

"Thanks, Molly. Where's Mindy?" he asked, frowning at the thought of the missing child.

"She's sleeping, Chris," the woman answered.

"Sleeping," Larabee said, his green eyes filled with worry. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine. Just a little tired. I guess everything finally caught up with her and she gave into it."

"You're sure she's okay?" the blond asked.

Molly held his gaze and smiled at the man. She wondered what the sorrow was he kept hidden and knew instinctively this man was once a father. She reached for his arm and gently patted it as she answered.

"Yes, Chris, but if it'll ease your mind you can look in on her yourself."

"N...No, don't want to wake her," Larabee said simply and took a seat in the swing.

"Alright then," she said with a smile. "Come on, Jack, gimme a hand with the pie and I'll see you get an extra big helping."

"Sounds good to me," the doctor said and followed the woman inside.

"You worried about Mindy, Chris?"

"Yeah. Kid's been through a lot."

"Shouldn't have ta go through shit like that at her age."

"No one should," Larabee agreed. The two friends relaxed as they enjoyed the silence and the late afternoon sunshine. Fifteen minutes later, Chris smiled as he realized the quiet would be short lived as he looked towards the end of the street. Tanner's back was to them and he couldn't help but smile as he realized the cavalry had arrived in the form of Wilmington and Standish.

"...riders comin'..." the gunslinger's cool gaze observed. Horses and riders were framed by the late afternoon sunshine, yet Chris could tell both men were exhausted.

"What?"

"Buck and Ezra."

"Where?" Tanner turned towards the street and smiled at the tired looking men. "Damn, they look worse'n I feel."

"They do look a mite sickly," Larabee said as the two peacekeepers dismounted and came towards them.

"Good afternoon, Gentlemen."

"...fellas...," Tanner said, the twinkle in his eyes showing how glad he was to see his friends.

"What are you two doing here?" the blond asked gratefully.

"Well, Hell, Chris, we got your telegram and it said Vin was hurt and witnessed a murder. Me and Ez figured ya might need us to watch your backs," Wilmington said anxiously, his eyes running up and down the lean tracker's body.

"You alright, Vin?" he asked the pale man.

"Yeah, threw out my back," Tanner answered.

"How did you manage such an injury?" the conman asked, sitting next to Larabee in the swing.

"Long story," the tracker told him.

"We got time," Wilmington said, planting himself on the porch rail and wiping the dust from his pants.

Tanner looked up as the door opened and smiled at the owner of the boarding house stepped outside.

"Oh my stars!" she exclaimed as she looked at the two newcomers.

"Howdy, Ma'am," Wilmington said, standing up and doing a graceful bow.

"Good afternoon," Standish greeted a little more formally.

"Molly Richmond, this is Buck Wilmington and Ezra Standish," Larabee introduced the newcomers. "We work together..."

"Hello, Mister Wilmington..." she started.

"It's Buck, Ma'am, and that's Ezra," the scoundrel smiled as he reached for her hand and kissed it gently.

"Oh, Lordy, you're a rake for sure," the woman said with a light laugh.

"Please ignore this charlatan, Ma'am," Standish said, his gold tooth reflecting the bright sunshine as he smiled warmly at the woman.

"Well, that's kinda hard ta do when he's standing right here," the woman said, feeling a slight heat rise to her cheeks as she looked at the bold grin on the rogue's face

"We kin fix that," Tanner said.

"Indeed we can. All it takes is a hot bath to rid him of the ungodly odor he so easily wears," Standish agreed.

"Thanks a lot, boys," Wilmington said, trying, but failing to look offended.

"Well, I got a couple of more pieces of pie if you two would like one," Molly offered.

"I would dearly love to partake of your baking skills, my good woman."

"Please call me Molly, and I'll be right back with the pie and lemonade," the woman said and hurried back inside.

"Now about that long story..." Standish's keen eyes drilled the squirming patient. Then he watched the tracker and the gunslinger exchange a quick glance.

"Alright," Vin said and got comfortable on the chair.

---

"Look, will ya just shut the hell up for a while?" Thompson snarled as he moved away from his desk and over to the cell housing the prisoner.

"Ain't got no right ta keep me locked up like this. I ain't done nothin' wrong!" James Clark shouted.

"Look, just pipe down until the judge gets here tomorrow or," Thompson warned, turning at the sound of a cold voice behind him.

"Or what?"

"What business is it of yours?" Thompson asked. His eyes quickly taking in the man standing beside his desk. The black suit he wore was well tailored, a white shirt and shoestring tie added to the effect.. The shoes were polished black leather, matching the case in the man's hands. The sheriff looked into the dark eyes and frowned as he saw flecks of red shimmering in the iris. Jet-black hair was combed back from the high forehead, framing the gaunt face. There was something about this man that bothered him, but he couldn't put his hands on what it was.

"That's my client you're threatening and it will stop as of right now!"

"Client? Who the hell are you."

"My name does not concern you, but since it is a necessity if I am to see my client it is C.F. Columber I am a lawyer and have journeyed here to represent Mr. Clark against the slanderous allegations..."

"The what?" Clark interrupted.

"The charges, my good man," the lawyer explained.

"Oh!" Clark said with a grin.

"That's right. I am here to make sure no one takes advantage of you."

"I ain't got no money! The sheriff took it when he put me in here" the murderer confessed.

Columber turned to the lawman, his eyes dark, and his expression hard as he stared at the man.

"The money has been..." the sheriff began, but was cut off by the lawyer's next words.

"Money is not an object when it comes to principles. How have you been treated in this despicable excuse for a jail?" he asked Clark

"He's got the treatment he deserves!" Thompson hissed.

The dark haired man turned his attention back to the sheriff and again a smile formed on the too white face.

"Is that so, Sheriff?"

"Yes, it is!"

"Mr. Clark, have you been fed properly?"

"Are ya kiddin'? The swill they've been feedin' me's not fit fer pigs!" Clark said, pointing to the half finished meal on his cot.

Columber lifted his head and a disgusted look came over his face as he looked at the plate of stew.

"I'm afraid that will not do, Sheriff. From now on my client is to be given proper meals and..."

"Your client is charged with murder..."

"Falsely accused..."

"We got witnesses!" Thompson snapped.

"Ah, witnesses, and I suppose they are completely reliable."

"Yes they are! A lot more than that man in there!"

"We'll see about that, Sheriff. When does the judge arrive?" the lawyer asked.

"He should be here sometime tomorrow!" the lawman answered.

"Good, then if you'll excuse us I wish to speak with my client in private."

Thompson looked at the newcomer with barely constrained anger, before turning and leaving the two men alone.

Clark smiled at the straight-backed figure standing on the other side of the bars.

"Hey, thanks mister..." he froze, his body trembling, his eyes glued to the face before him as the dark eyes seemed to take on a life of their own. He backed up until his legs hit the cot and sank down onto it. His breath caught in his throat as the figure before him undulated, sending puffs of frigid air into his cell.

"W...who are y...you?" he stammered, his breath eerily visible inside the cell.

"You do not need to know my real name, but it is only fitting that you know who holds your soul in his hand."

Clark stared at the man who'd come to defend him, and swallowed painfully, gagging at the foul stench in the air.

"Y...you're..."

"Yes!" the man laughed. "I am here to protect that which belongs to me."

"I...I d...don't..." He stopped as Columber's hand came up and long taloned fingers pointed at his throat. His eyes grew wide as his air supply was effectively cut off and fiery pain seeped into his body. It offered no warmth, just a searing icy cold that attacked his mind as well as his body.

"You don't what? You don't want my help? Well, it's far too late for that since I already own you, body and soul. Rest assured you will hang after your trial, but I am in need of this farce in order to get close to a soul that was stolen from me!"

The figure shimmered and seemed to change before his very eyes. Clark had the distinct impression that he was in the presence of an evil such as he'd never known, and silently prayed as lack of air caused horrific visions. He watched as a smile formed on the face of his benefactor. He screamed as the hand clenched into a fist and his heart felt ready to burst in his chest. Somehow the figure now stood over him, towering above him, it's fetid breath scalding against his face. Its fingers did a light dance over his chest, before continuing up his neck and stopping at his temples. For the first time in his life Clark knew what real fear was. He felt painful tendrils reach into his skull, digging deep into his brain, to the very center that controlled who he was.

"Do not pretend to pray to HIM. He will not come to save you as your evil has taken too many lives. Your soul is mine and if it pleases me I will allow you to stand with me in my army of darkness. If not I will feed you to the legion of demons who will devour your flesh for all eternity!"

N...NO! the outlaw screamed inside his mind, yet the thing before him cackled as it raked a talon across his chest. He felt his mind being invaded by the evil the now pervaded his mind and body. An evil from which there would be no escape. James Clark felt enraptured by the evil he'd served all his life and finally understood that his reward was not all he'd dreamed of. He tried to fight as one final scream echoed through the horses of taloned creatures scurrying through his mind, twisting his features until they were hardly recognizable.

N...NO!

"Yes, my good man," Columber said, releasing his invisible hold on the prisoner as he heard the door open. He smiled inwardly as he realized Clark was totally under his control now, a new puppet whose strings were held within his tight grasp. The murderer would die, but that death would not release him, instead he would be a prisoner of hell for all eternity.

"Time's up!" Thompson hissed at the dark haired man.

"Thank you, Sheriff. My client and I were finished. Right, Mr. Clark?"

"I..." the outlaw choked out, icy fingers touching up against his heart and mind once more. Fear taking control as he wondered how the man was able to be inside his cell yet the doors were locked.

"Y...yeah, Mr. Columber is my...my lawyer." He breathed a sigh of relief as the searing touch left his body.

"Now, Sheriff, I wish to speak with the witnesses who say this poor unfortunate soul is guilty."

"I'll see if I can arrange it," he lawman said.

"See that you do!" the dark haired man said and turned back to his client.

Clark flinched as the dead eyes changed imperceptibly, creating an almost liquid essence of fear in them. He turned away, feeling again the dread that speared his mind and body. He heard the two men talking, but couldn't meet their eyes, as realization dawned on him. This man was evil, and he now possessed his soul. A soft sob formed, but was quickly silenced as Columber's voice hissed in his mind.

You belong to me and I will not abide such open displays of weakness!

Y...yes, Master..." he whispered, knowing to do otherwise would bring an eternity of pain.

---

"Hell, you two attract trouble as easily as I attract the ladies," Wilmington said, when the harrowing tale was completed.

"How is the child faring?" Standish asked.

"She's scared," Larabee observed.

"But she's brave," Tanner finished, wincing as his back protested his time in the chair.

"Time to go back, Vin," Larabee said, standing and moving towards his friend.

"...think so..." the sharpshooter agreed. He gazed down the street and frowned as the sheriff and another man hurried towards them. There was something in the way the newcomer walked that set of alarms inside the tracker's mind. He felt Larabee standing next to him and knew the gunslinger was also checking out the man walking beside the sheriff.

"Vin?" Wilmington called to the younger man.

"Sheriff's comin'," Tanner advised.

"He can wait!" the gunslinger said, offering a hand to his injured friend. Before the tracker could grasp it the two visitors were at the gate.

"Chris," Thompson called, opening the gate and stepping inside, without holding it for the man with him.

"Sheriff." Larabee looked at the sheriff, but he scrutinized the man standing just behind him. He frowned as his arm began to throb and his vision blurred for an instant.

"Chris, you alright?" the scoundrel asked worriedly.

"Y...yeah," Larabee said as a familiar scent assaulted his nostrils and his eyes began to water.

"Looks like ya need ta git ta bed more'n me!" The sharpshooter frowned as he watched his friend.

"Come on, Pard, let's get you inside," Wilmington suggested, grabbing Larabee's arm and easing him towards the door.

Chris felt weak and didn't have the strength to protest as he leaned on the ladies man.

"Ezra, s...stay with Vin!" the gunslinger warned sharply, and was glad to see the gambler nod in agreement.

Buck led the ill man into the house and followed Larabee's pointing finger. His fear for his friend's well being intensified as the blond continued to lean against him. He saw Molly out of the corner of his eye as they passed the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" the woman asked as she looked up from the table where she was peeling potatoes.

"Chris don't feel very well," Wilmington answered and was glad to see the doctor was still at the house.

"Let me help you," O'Malley offered as he came out of the kitchen and helped support the nearly unconscious man.

Chris welcomed the strength of the two men as his own seemed to have left him completely. His body felt weighed down as they placed him on the bed. His eyes closed and he sank into a nightmare world where birds with crimson eyes and long claws slashed at him. Where voices screamed at him to help them from twisted, ravaged mouths sunk in sightless skulls. A place where his friends could not reach him and hell was his alone.

Buck watched as the doctor began examining the unconscious man. He knew from Vin and Chris that this man was good at what he did, but in his heart he wished Nathan Jackson was there as well. Damn, Chris, what's wrong with ya? he thought.

---

"Vin, this is Clark's lawyer C.F. Columber," Thompson explained.

Standish and Tanner both heard the undercurrent of dislike in the sheriff's voice. Something about the darkly dressed man set wrong with both men. Without a word the gambler quickly moved to stand beside the tracker's chair.

Vin looked the newcomer in the eyes, noting the empty black depths seemed devoid of life, yet flecks of red warred for dominance in the irises. Something about the newcomer didn't sit right, but the tracker was suddenly unable to think straight. The sharpshooter felt as if the man was seeing through him, deep into his mind and heart, to the core of his soul. A secret place where everything he ever done or faced in life resided. He squirmed in the chair as their eyes locked in a mortal embrace, one he had to win, yet knew instinctively he could not. The man standing before him wreaked of an evil essence that soon had the young man nauseated. He fought to turn away from the gaze, before the evil could take control of who he was. He sucked air through clenched teeth as he hissed.

"That animal murdered that poor woman," Tanner rasped, clutching the arms of the chair in anger. "...and that ain't all he done t'her."

"Mr. Tanner, I will not have you insulting my client's good name when he is not here to defend himself..."

Vin's anger got the best of him and he tried to rise out of the chair. Columber's hand steadied him and the tracker's eyes widened as pain erupted along the nerves in his back. He cried out as he sat back in the chair, his breath coming in painful gasps as Standish moved in beside him.

"Vin!" the gambler's worried gaze took in the white face, the beads of sweat on the handsome face, and the tightly clenched eyes and mouth. He glared at the newcomer and shoved his hand off the sharpshooter's arm, hissing as he felt an icy fire race through his fingers.

"Mr. Tanner, I'm sure you understand that my client..."

"...is a fuckin' ani..." his words were cut off as pain erupted once more. Thick, cloying darkness began to close over him, taking with it any protests he wanted to make. He could hear his friend talking to him, but Standish's words fell on deaf ears as he succumbed to his body's demand for relief.

"It's time for you to leave, Mr. Columber!" Standish hissed as the sheriff moved in to help support the sagging body in the chair.

"I was simply doing my job," the devil whispered beguilingly, his voice soft, yet holding an icy depth that caused the gambler's body to shiver in spite of the warmth of the day.

"I'm afraid your job is despicable if you're aiming to free that murderer," Standish said. He looked up as the door opened and Buck Wilmington stepped outside.

"What the hell happened?" he asked as he saw the two men supporting an unconscious Vin Tanner in the chair.

"I'm not sure," the conman said, diverting his gaze from the lawyer. "He was suddenly in agony and passed out."

"Let's get him in to the doc," Wilmington suggested and took over from the sheriff.

Columber turned a cold gaze on the sheriff, before moving out into the street. His eyes glowed a deep scarlet as he thought of the things he'd found out by simply touching the sharpshooter's arm.

Thompson stood frozen for a second as icy tendrils crawled down his spine. Quickly shaking them off, he turned to follow the newcomer only to find the street deserted and as cold as he felt inside.

---

O'Malley tucked the blanket around his patient, before standing and stretching, to ease the kinks from his back. His examination of Chris Larabee uncovered nothing that could explain the man's unconscious state. The wound in the arm was still showing signs of infection, but that didn't explain why Larabee's skin felt cold and clammy.

Hope the hell it's not some new disease, he thought. The door opened, revealing Vin Tanner supported between the two newcomers.

"Put him on the bed," the physician ordered. He watched as the men eased the young tracker down, amazed at the care and tenderness they showed.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Clark's lawyer showed up and Vin became agitated while they were conversing. He tried to stand up and passed out," Standish explained as the doctor moved in to examine his second patient.

"I told Vin no longer than twenty minutes. This back injury is nothing to fool with and he needs to rest," the doctor explained.

"Vin was fine until Columber placed his hand on him. That's when he gasped in pain and passed out," the gambler stated.

"Ez, are you sayin' the lawyer did something to Vin?" Wilmington asked.

"Yes...no...I don't know, Buck, but something's just not right here," the conman said, as he looked from one unconscious man to the other.

"Yeah. I think you're right about that, Ez..."

"Gentlemen," O'Malley interrupted Wilmington. "I need your help here."

"What do ya need, Doc?" the ladies man asked.

"I need you to help turn Vin over so I can get a look at his back. Ezra, go ask Molly for some hot water and towels," the physician ordered.

"Right away, Doctor," Standish said and hurried form the room.

"Alright, Buck, I need you to support his shoulders for me."

The two men eased the injured sharpshooter onto his stomach. Buck winced as he heard a gasp escape from his friend, yet he knew the young man was still unconscious.

O'Malley lifted the shirt and gently probed the area. There were still signs of swelling, but he didn't think it was any worse than the last time he'd examined this patient. He looked up as Standish entered, a basin in his hand and a towel thrown over his shoulder. The doctor could tell the younger man was worried, yet he couldn't ease either man's fears for their friend's well being. Something strange was happening to the two men, but what it was he didn't know. He could treat the wounds he saw, but he knew there was nothing he could do for the wounds he couldn't see.

"Put the basin on the table," the doctor ordered. He watched as the gambler did as he was asked and took the towel. He placed it in the water and smiled as he realized Molly Richmond had the water at the right temperature.

"What are you going to do, Doctor?" Standish asked.

"I'm gonna put hot towels on his back to ease the tension. His muscles are tight here and I'm hoping if we can help him relax the problem will ease off before he wakes up." O'Malley placed the towel on Tanner's back and eased back in his chair.

"How long before we know if it helps?" the ladies man asked.

"It may take an hour or so, but we need to keep this up for a couple of hours. I've got a couple of people I need to check on, but I'm confident you two can handle this," the physician told them as he stood up and turned his attention to the second man.

"What about Chris?" Standish asked.'

"Except for the wound on his arm I can see no reason he's unconscious. I've done all I can for him. The wound in his arm is the only thing I can see wrong with him yet he's unconscious. When he wakes up make sure he eats something. He's been sick a couple of times, so I'm going to ask Molly to make him something light..."

"Oh, Hell, Chris'll love that," Wilmington said of Larabee's fondness of the light meals.

"Well, I want you to make sure he gets some fluids into him and get him to eat. He needs to build up his strength again," the doctor explained.

"Doctor, what are you not telling us about Mr. Larabee's condition?" the gambler asked as he watched the expressions on the older man's face.

O'Malley looked into he inquisitive green eyes of the brown haired man and knew instinctively this man could easily read him. He looked down at Larabee's still form and shook his head.

"Look, I don't really know any more than I've told you. Anything else is just guess work on my part..."

"Doc, what do you think is going on?" the ladies man interrupted.

"If I were to hazard a guess I'd say it has something to do with the mark on his arm. There's a mild infection in it, but Chris doesn't have any fever. If anything he seems too damn cold. I want you to keep him covered...it's the only thing you can do for him right now. I'll be back to change the bandage on his arm and check on Vin's back later today. If there's any problems before then come get me."

"We will, Doc," Wilmington said as Standish settled in to take care of the tracker. He watched the doctor leave the room and pulled a second chair up to Larabee's bed. What's going on with you two, Chris? he thought as he tucked the blankets around the sleeping man.

The two peacekeepers kept a silent vigil over their friends. They lost track of time until Molly came into the room with a dinner tray. She smiled at the ladies man and the gambler as she placed it on the table between the two beds.

"How are they doing?" she asked.

"There's no change," Wilmington said.

Molly nodded as she looked from one bed to the other. She felt a chill deep inside as her gaze came to rest no the lean gunslinger. Something about this man touched her heart, and she knew there was a fight coming his way. She looked at the tracker and knew if anyone could help him with that fight it was him. The other two men would be involved, but Vin Tanner would be the man who could save Chris Larabee. Of that, she was certain as she turned and left the room.

"Ez..."

"Yes..."

"Do you really think Columber had something to do with what's happening to Vin?"

"There's something about that cretin I don't trust. I think it would be prudent if we make sure he doesn't get close to Chris or Vin."

Buck nodded as he helped himself to one of the plates of Stew and biscuits.

"Yeah, I don't trust him either. Hopefully the trial won't last long and we'll leave this place and Columber behind."

Standish picked up his plate and settled in to watch over the two men.

---

The dream was so real, fire and ice chilled him to the bone. Red eyes and elongated fingers dominated the tiny room. He fought against there hold on him, but there didn't seem to be any way to escape the deadly mass of demonic souls. He screamed as something invaded his mind, an evil so cruel it cast him into a spiralling vortex of hatred and rage.

You belong to me!

No!

The more you fight the more rewarding this will be for me. A soul as strong as yours is worth many hours of torment. Yours is strong and will become a part of me once the earthly body has given up the fight. Keep fighting and you shall take your rightful place at my side. We will be strong, especially after you bring me the souls of your friends...

No! I won't...I can't... His protest was weak and met with demonic laughter as icy shards touched his inner core, chilling him to the bone. He struggled to awaken, to escape the horror of his nightmares, but something seemed to follow him. He knew to release the evil into the world would mean the death of everything and everyone. He fought to leave the evil behind, ignoring the hot talons that raked across his nerves. He felt the evil reluctantly release him yet, something followed him into the waking world. Two words he'd grown familiar with, yet couldn't remember why the tormented voices were calling to him.

Help us!

---

"....Chris..."

Standish smiled as the tracker opened his eyes and looked across the room. Darkness had completely enveloped the world and he was alone with the two men. Molly Richmond was a wonderful lady and Buck Wilmington was now sleeping on the couch in the living room. He placed a hand on Tanner's shoulder as the young man tried to sit up.

"That would not be advisable right now, My Friend," the gambler said.

Vin turned his head and met the worried green eyes of the man sitting beside his bed. He vaguely remembered the arrival of the two men, but couldn't grasp anything else. His back throbbed as the conman eased a new towel onto it, but the heat eased his aching muscles and he smiled.

"Ez, what happened to Chris?"

"Mr. Larabee is going to be fine."

The words did little to alleviate the tracker's worries as he watched Larabee's face. Something bothered him about the way the other man seemed to be curled into the blankets, as if trying to ward off the cold. Vin knew Chris didn't mind the cold as much as he did. Somehow this bothered him even more since the air seemed uncannily warm to him.

"Vin, he will be okay," the gambler aid reassuringly.

"Thanks," the younger man said gratefully as Larabee's eyes began to flicker.

Standish noticed the change as well and moved to the second bed. He placed a hand on Larabee's shoulder and watched as the sea-green eyes opened and tried to focus.

Chris blinked rapidly to rid himself of the double image standing beside his bed. The vision of Ezra Standish and the flashing gold tooth was a welcome one. The nightmare receded with the warmth of the other man's smile and he tried to sit up.

"How do you feel?" the gambler asked.

Larabee frowned as he tried to formulate an answer. He felt fine except for the chill he seemed to have caught.

"Cold," he answered.

"I thought that was Mr. Tanner's problem," Standish said as he eased the blanket s back over the gunslinger.

"V...Vin," Larabee stammered as he turned his gaze on the other bed.

"Are you okay?" the blond asked.

"Fine...you?" the sharpshooter answered.

The gunslinger pulled the blankets tightly around his trembling body, wondering why he felt so cold.

"Think so. What time is it?" he asked.

"It's two thirty in the morning and you two need to go back to sleep," Standish said.

"Hell, Ez, slept 'nough," the tracker said as he shifted on the bed. He was surprised by the lack of pain in his back. There was still a dull ache, but the agonizing torment he remembered was gone.

"Well, Mrs. Richmond was kind enough to leave something for both of you to eat..."

"Good...I'm starved," the tracker said.

"Mr. Larabee, would you like something to eat?" Standish asked.

"N...no," Larabee answered as he felt the call of sleep once more. He heard the two men talking softly and knew they were worried about him. Why am I so damned tired? he thought as he followed the cold trail into his troubling dreams once more.

---

Buck opened the door and looked in, surprised to see Standish whispering softly to the injured tracker. He moved quietly into the room and nodded to both men before turning his gaze towards the man in the second bed. Larabee was turned away from them, the blankets wrapped tightly around him as he slept. Once he was sure the blond was resting comfortably, he moved to the other bed.

"How are you feeling, Vin?" he asked.

"Better," the Texan answered softly.

"Ya look a mite better too. Molly's just makin' breakfast and she sent me to tell you she'd bring it in here for you and Chris."

"Tell her I'm okay. Jest need help gettin' dressed," the tracker told him.

"You sure?" the ladies' man asked, not at all convinced that the younger man was ready to move around again.

"Yeah." He looked from one man to the other before continuing. "I need ta be able ta move 'round if'n that judge gits here taday."

"Ez, gimme a hand to get him dressed before you go eat."

"Certainly," Standish said and moved to the opposite side of the bed. The two friends eased Tanner up until he was sitting on the side of the bed. They watched as Larabee stirred and rolled towards them, his eyes slowly opening as he pushed the blankets away from his body.

"Hey, Chris, how're you feeling?" Wilmington asked.

Larabee frowned at the question, wondering why the scoundrel asked him that. He shifted on the bed and slid his legs over the side before answering.

"I'm fine." He turned his attention to the injured man. "Vin?"

"I'm okay, Chris." The tracker studied the blond for a few seconds, seeing the pain flicker behind the sea-green eyes, before the older man reached for his pants and pulled them on.

"Smells like Molly's making flapjacks and bacon," Larabee said, his stomach growling in anticipation.

"She is, Chris and she's got that little ray of sunshine helpin' her out."

Chris smiled at Buck's apt description of Mindy Lawrence. They were hoping to receive word from Mindy's grandparents as to when they'd be arriving. Larabee knew the child needed them, now more than ever with the trial so close at hand. He finished dressing as Buck and Ezra continued to help the tracker.

"Ya sure you're up for this, Vin?" Wilmington asked.

"Ain't nothin' gonna stop me!" Tanner answered with a grin. He stood up, only to glad to have the scoundrel's steadying hand on his arm.

"Glad to see there's nothing wrong with your appetite," Standish said as he held the door open. "After you!" he said, bowing courteously.

"Thanks, Ez!" the sharpshooter smiled as they made their way slowly down the hall towards the kitchen.

Mindy looked up from where she was putting plates on the table. She smiled as the three men walked into the room, but her eyes lit up as the fourth man stood framed in the doorway.

"Chris!" she called as she put the dishes down and hurried towards her.

Larabee smiled as he plucked the child from the floor and her arms wrapped around his neck. He felt her tighten her grip as he saw the other men help Vin into one of the chairs. He felt her hold loosen as she pulled back slightly and looked at him.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, frowning as she looked at his face.

"I'm just fine, Honey," the blond answered as he walked to the table.

"Good, 'cause I was scared you was sick. You slept longer than Bruno did..."

"Bruno?" Larabee asked her.

"Yeah. He was a big ol' dog we had when I was little. He slept lots like you and Vin did and he...he," she started to cry and Chris pulled her into a tight embrace once more.

Chris knew the others were watching him with the child, but didn't take the time to acknowledge it. He felt her trembling sobs and wished she didn't have to testify at the trial. His eyes met those of the sharpshooter and he saw the same concern in the soft blues. He nodded slightly as he reached up and ran his fingers through the soft brown hair.

Mindy lifted her head and tried to stop the tears. Her little girl's mind told her crying was for babies, but her heart told her she needed to let the tears fall. She finally met the green eyes of the man holding her and a small smile formed as his fingertips wiped the evidence from her cheeks.

"I w...want to go h...home," she hiccupped softly.

Chris felt his heart breaking at her words and pulled her tight. His right hand again held her head to his shoulder as the sobs grew in volume. He knew she needed to do this, everybody did. His gaze quickly fell on Wilmington and he knew the other man was seeing a time in the past. A time when Chris Larabee had finally let down his barriers and cried out his pain. Although neither man knew it at the time, the tears he shed that cold December day was the beginning of the healing process for him. They'd parted ways the next day and a piece of him often wondered why he hadn't told Buck he was sorry for the things he'd said and done. A part of his subconscious had realized he needed some time alone, time to let the wounds heal before his life could be whole again.

The time after Sarah and Adam's deaths were some of the blackest times of his life. A time where his soul could've been lost forever, but salvation soared hopeful in the sky eyes of the Texan. The young man seemed to understand his own need for privacy, yet they'd probably never be able to keep anything secret from each other again. A gift was given to them that day, one that seemed to give them both what they'd been missing. A brother, not by blood, but by destiny and need. The need for a soul that mirrored the others needs. The look on Buck's face told him he understood, and he smiled at the scoundrel as he held the girl close.

"We'll make sure you get home," Chris vowed as she settled against him, her arms clinging tightly to his neck. He held her as Molly placed platters of flapjacks, biscuits, and bacon on the table. A thick jug of syrup, a pot of coffee and several cups soon followed. He felt Mindy lift her head once more and again he wiped the red-rimmed eyes.

"Feel better?' he asked softly and smiled as the brown head nodded vigorously. He eased her onto the chair beside him and accepted a cup of coffee from the gambler.

"Thanks, Ez," he said as he sipped the strong, flavorful brew. He put the cup back down and without realizing it rubbed at the bandage covering the wound on his arm.

"You're welcome," Standish said and helped himself to a plate of breakfast.

"Hungry, Vin?" Wilmington asked as he watched the tracker pile the food on his plate.

"...yep...' the Texan answered as he added another flapjack to his plate.

"Are you eating, Chris?" Molly asked as she watched the gunslinger rub at his arm. She knew by the look on his face it was bothering him, but decided against saying anything until after the meal was over. She trembled as she remembered the feeling of foreboding that crept over her when she'd seen him in the street. This man had a fight coming his way, one that dealt with things beyond her imagination, beyond this world. Whether he won or lost would depend on the men seated around the table, and their willingness to believe in the unbelievable. To act without questioning their own sanity. To go beyond the normal things in life and see past the damper that was put on the human mind. Her own sanity was questioned often enough when she was a child and she'd learned to keep her thoughts and dreams to herself.

"Molly, darlin' are you alright?" Wilmington asked, as the woman seemed to pale before him.

"Huh? What?" the woman asked as she came back to the present and stared into the pools of liquid blue set in the handsome face seated across the table.

"I asked if you were okay?"

She smiled warmly at the scoundrel as she reached for a plate. She knew there was nothing she could do to help them. She could not warn them of what lay ahead, as she didn't know exactly what was going to happen.

"I'm fine, Buck, just daydreaming. Ain't nothin' else a woman can do with four handsome men to keep her company," the woman said mischievously, smiling warmly as the gunslinger picked up a plate and began helping himself to the heaping platters of food. Eat now, Chris Larabee, Lord knows you'll need the strength for the trials ahead of you, she thought.

They ate in silence, lost in their own thoughts of what lay ahead. According to the sheriff Judge Spencer would arrive sometime later in the day. The trial would probably start the following day and that's when things would be rough for Mindy Lawrence and Vin Tanner. They would have to relive what happened when they were forced to answer the questions put forth by James Clark's lawyer.

Molly finished eating and began clearing the table. Mindy's melancholy seemed to have left her, and for that the woman was glad. Children had an ability to forget easily, yet she knew the events of the last week would remain with her for the rest of her life.

"Vin?" Larabee spoke the name softly as Mindy moved to help the older woman clear the table.

"Yeah?"

"You Want to go outside for a while?"

"Y...yeah," the sharpshooter answered.

"Ez, you give Chris a hand to get Vin outside. I'll help the ladies clean up," Wilmington suggested.

"Now you go on outside with the others, Buck. Mindy and me can handle this. Right Mindy?" Molly asked, placing her hands on her hips.

"Right!" the child said as she imitated the woman's actions and placed her tiny hands on her hips.

"Are ya sure?" the scoundrel asked.

"Get yourself outside!" Richmond ordered.

Buck bowed at the waist, causing the child to burst into laughter as he smiled at them.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said and cupped Mindy's cheek in his right hand. He turned to see Larabee and Tanner walking slowly towards the door, Standish following closely behind.

Once outside, Chris helped the tracker into the swing before turning towards the street. He knew Wilmington and Standish would look after the younger man while he checked for messages at the hotel.

"I'm gonna see if there's any messages from Mindy's grandparents. Come get me if the judge or sheriff shows up," Larabee told the three friends.

"We will," Wilmington said, sitting on the step and watching the lean man walk slowly out the gate. Something about the way the gunslinger walked reminded Buck of another time, another place and he prayed Larabee wasn't headed for the bottle again.

Chris could feel the three men watching him and he fought the urge to rub the wound on his arm. He flexed his fingers and hoped the tingling numbness was not a sign that something was wrong with his arm. He made his way to the hotel and stepped inside just as Tilly was coming out of the office.

"Ah, Mr. Larabee I was just comin' ta see you. I've got an answer from Saint Louis for you. The wires have been down and this only just got through," the woman said, handing him the slip of paper with the missive on it.

Leaving immediately...Thank you for watching over Mindy....Rupert Lawrence.

The judge had already communicated with the child's grandparents. As her next of kin, they would be needed for the trial, due to her status as a minor. The gunslinger hoped that the couple showered Mindy with the love and care she needed.

"Thank you, Ma'am," the blond said, tipping his hat to her.

"I'm sorry it took so long to get the answer, Mr. Larabee," she told him.

Larabee nodded as he made his way back to the boarding house. He stopped in the middle of the street as he felt someone watching him. An icy touch seemed to wrap around him, sucking the air from his lungs. He turned towards the jail, frowning as he saw the man framed in the doorway. He recognized him as the man who'd been with Hank Thompson the day before, yet he couldn't remember hearing the name. The man's hand was held straight out in front of him and his finger seemed to be pointing straight at the gunslinger. Chris gasped for air as he turned he locked eyes with the newcomer, yet he would not release the hypnotic glare. The man's eyes glowed red and he remembered the nightmare world of his dreams since his arrival in Farmington. This man was the center point of his trouble, yet how or why he didn't know, but he would find out.

Chris felt the world around him fading and the beaconing fires of hell rising up to engulf him. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his heart beat rapidly in his chest. His eyes continued to lock forces with the newcomer as the heat of the day grew into epidemic proportions and the town began to fade before his eyes.

Columber smiled as he pointed his finger at the man standing in the middle of the street. He knew he could kill him with a simple flick of his hand, but that would not give him what he wanted, what he craved. A man's soul was stronger when given freely, and Chris Larabee would do just that when the time came. He admired the blond haired gunslinger as the intense green eyes seared into his own red ones. He knew this man was a born leader and would add strength to his own forces.

"Mr. Columber?"

He continued to force his evil influence on the dark clad man, ignoring the voice from behind him. He knew he'd have to release his hold or risk Larabee collapsing in the middle of the street. Reluctantly he turned away from his victim and turned a cold glare on the sheriff.

Chris sucked in air as the town shimmered and solidified before his eyes. The vacuum he'd been trapped in disappeared and an abundance of honeysuckle scented air entered his body. His grateful lungs burned as the oxygen his body craved cleared his mind and pushed back the blurred vision. He watched as the man in the doorway disappeared inside, taking with him the chill that seemed to permeate the air around him. His gaze swept over the dust-covered street as two familiar words drifted past him on a soft breeze.

Help us!

Jesus, Larabee, what the fuck's wrong with you? he chided.

The gunman waited for his legs to stop trembling and slowly moved down the street. The whispered words reverberated through his mind as he sought their meaning.

Buck, Ezra, and Vin watched as the blond walked slowly towards them. The three men immediately picked up that something wasn't right, yet none spoke of the fear they felt at the pale features.

"Something wrong, Chris?" Wilmington asked when Larabee entered the yard and made his way towards them.

Larabee turned a pained gaze on the mustached man. He moved to the swing and sat next to the Texan.

"No, things look good for Mindy," the blond explained.

"They coming for her?" Wilmington asked.

"Yes, left as soon as they got the message if the telegram is indication," Larabee answered.

"They should be here in time for her to testify then," Standish observed.

"Looks that way. I'm gonna give Mindy the good news." Larabee stood and nearly collapsed as he was overcome by a cloying scent the others were oblivious to. He held his breath, praying the weakness that was plaguing him over the last few days would not manifest itself in front of his friends.

"Chris?" Tanner's drawl penetrated Larabee's stupor and the blond turned glassy eyes in his direction.

"I...I'm okay, Vin," Larabee assured him.

"Sure you are," Wilmington said as he stood next to the lean gunslinger.

"Perhaps you should lie down for a while?" the gambler offered.

"No, I'm okay...just need to do this," Larabee said simply and walked into the house.

Vin watched as the older man disappeared inside. He knew Buck and Ezra were also watching and he wondered if they sensed a difference in the gunslinger. Somehow he knew they did as the trio sat quietly and watched the dusty street of Farmington.

---

Chris smiled as he entered the kitchen to find Molly and Mindy sitting at the table. Molly was showing the little girl some sewing stitches and the child was concentrating on her nimble fingers. The brown head popped up as he entered the cozy room.

"Hi, Chris," The girl's voice was filled with excitement as she held out the piece of material for the gunslinger to see.

"Hi, Mindy, what've you got there?" Larabee asked.

"Molly's showing me how to make a blanket. I'm gonna make one for Frannie," her eyes misted over as she said the name.

The blond placed his finger on her chin and tilted her head until their gazes met. He smiled at her, knowing she'd been through so much.

"Your Aunt would be proud of you," he told her and saw a flash of hope in her eyes.

"She w...would?"

"Of course, you're a brave girl," Larabee said and smiled as Molly agreed with him. He picked the child up in his arms and wiped away the silent tears.

"Now, I've got some good news for you," Larabee said as he took a cloth from Molly's hands and washed the girl's face.

"For me?"

"That's right, Honey. Your Grandpa and Nana are on their way to get you," the blond explained and was glad to see the excitement return to the soft eyes "That's right. They should be here tomorrow."

"They gonna take me back to St Louis with them?"

"They sure are," Larabee answered.

Mindy leaned her head to the side and again met Larabee's sea green eyes. For a minute the blond saw something he couldn't read until the child spoke in a voice too mature for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and asked softly.

"Will they love me?"

Larabee held her tight and ran his hand through her soft curls as he answered.

"Sure they will, Honey."

Molly watched the two and wondered if Larabee knew the effect he had on the child. In the short time they'd been here she'd seen a side of Chris Larabee few people got to see. The man knew his way around children, whether he realized it or not. She'd sat quietly and watched the interaction between the two and now understood why Mindy Lawrence was drawn to the gunman. Chris Larabee hid this part of himself from most people, yet it was evident as soon as he picked her up. This man knew how to treat children and how to talk to them and not down to them. She turned away from the private display and walked out of the room, knowing Larabee had a fight coming and praying his friend's could help him win it.

---

Columber watched from the jailhouse as the stage entered the outer boundaries of Farmington. Although he looked forward to the trial and using the things he'd garnered from his meeting with Vin Tanner, there were other things on his mind. He looked down towards the little house, nearly invisible because of the brush and flowers in the yard. He could feel Larabee's aura as if it called out to him and a shudder of anticipation ran through the form he'd chosen. His attention returned to the stage as it pulled to a stop in front of the hotel and he smiled. A short, well-dressed man, with black hair, streaked with silver, stepped down and looked in his direction. He knew instinctively this was the judge and continued to stare until the man dropped his gaze.

Your trial is about to begin, Chris Larabee, he thought as he watched the man accept a small bag and enter the hotel.

---

Clark sat in his cell staring at the small spider that skirted the edge of the window. He'd been watching the creature since an insect had flown into its web and become trapped within the silken threads. His head tilted to the side and he watched as the insect slowly disappeared inside a cocoon of softness, yet he knew there was nothing soft about the creature's new home. He felt a chill run down his spine as he realized the insect was in a far better place than he was. At least its death would be final, unlike his own. Columber had told him he would die at the end of a rope, but that would not be the end for him. It would be the beginning of a life of misery, a life he'd garnered for himself with his first killing. He felt tears well up in his eyes and turned his gaze away from the spider and it's meal. His throat constricted and he looked towards the door, feeling Columber's icy touch surround his heart once more.

I do not abide cowards, the silken voice reached only his ears and he struggled to contain his growing fear.

"Y...yes, Master," he said aloud, his words barely reaching his own ears as he sank down on the cot once more and waited for the inevitable. The pain in his chest grew until he thought his heart would burst, but the vice like grip released him before the organ burst like a ripe fruit. He felt his eyes flutter closed as he sank into the depths of hell where he was surrounded by demons he'd never imagined existed.

---

William Spencer had been a judge in this territory for the past eleven years. He'd held court for arguments between landowners, trials involving horse thieves, and robbery to name a few. Yet none affected him more than a man or woman charged with murdering a fellow human being. He knew he didn't have all of the facts pertaining to this case, but he knew of Clark's reputation and had even presided over a case several years in the past that ended badly because the witness against Clark turned up dead. Natural causes the doctor said. Man died of a heart attack. Spencer understood the remark, but he also understood the heart attack was precipitated by the man's fear of closed in spaces. The witness was well known for this and somehow ended up locked in a cellar, sealed completely in darkness, before said heart attack occurred.

Taking a deep breath the judge placed his bag on the bed and sat on the edge. The room he was in was familiar to him as it was always reserved for him. Tilly and Burt Baker made sure this room was available when he was going to be in town. He was glad to have familiar surroundings when he needed to concentrate on a case. He stood up and walked out of the room, intent on getting things ready for the trial. He spotted the sheriff coming towards him and smiled at his long time friend.

"Afternoon, Hank," he greeted as the sheriff joined him in front of the hotel.

"Afternoon, Bill. How was the trip?"

"Dusty. I want to get this trial going as soon as possible. Burt and Tilly are setting up the lobby of the hotel. We'll set the trial to start tomorrow morning. Does Clark have council?" he asked. Trials were usually held at the hotel since it was the only place big enough to hold everyone.

"Yeah," the sheriff answered softly as he looked across the street at the jail.

"Anyone I know?"

"Don't think so. I never heard of the man although he does seem to be legit."

"What's his name?"

"C.F. Columber. You know him?"

"Not personally, but there's something familiar about that name," the judge said as they walked towards Thompson's home.

"What about the witnesses?"

"They are staying at Molly's boarding house."

"How is the child holding up?" the older man asked, knowing what the child would be going through over the next few days.

"'bout as well as you'd expect after what she's been through."

"And the other witness...Tanner is it?" the judge asked. He knew about Vin Tanner, yet he would not act on that knowledge as Orrin Travis was working on getting the charges against him dropped.

"Yeah. Doc says he'll be able to be at the trial. He hurt his back, but he seems to be doing better."

"What about the child's grandparents? Will they be able to make it in time?"

"They are on the way. Should be here day after tomorrow."

"Good, then we'll leave her testimony until they arrive. Now, please tell me Carolyn has made her Apple Cobbler?"

Thompson laughed as he walked alongside the older man. His wife was proud of her baking skills and this man knew just what to say to get her to make what he craved. Apple Cobbler was the judge's favorite. The sheriff rubbed his hand as he remembered her swatting him with the spoon when he attempted to sample it that morning.

"You know Carolyn almost as well as I do, Bill. She's got it ready and waiting for you. Wouldn't let me touch it this morning."

"That why you're rubbing your hand?" the judge asked, smiling at the sheepish look on the other man's face.

"Yeah, she rapped my knuckles," Thompson laughed.

"Good, teach ya to keep your hands off my cobbler," William said as the walked side by side.

---

Columber watched the two men stride towards the sheriff's house, before turning away. He knew the trial would not last long as he wasn't planning on putting up much of a fight. He needed to get rid of Clark and move things along. The Inn waited for its new sacrifice, its taste for flesh growing as it waited for the new soul to bring it life. He heard the cries of his minions and turned his head in the direction of the call.

Soon, very soon you will know the taste of a perfect soul again, he vowed as he turned his head towards the whimpering sounds emanating from inside the cell. He pointed his finger towards the man seated on the bed and smiled as the sound abruptly stopped. The look on his face as he exerted his power was one of rapture, yet it sent a chill through the woman walking across the street and he fed on the fear emanating from her body.

---

The following day dawned with a darkness that mirrored the feelings surrounding the trial. Gray clouds dotted the sky, rolling in until it blotted out the blue sky overhead. The heat was oppressive as nature continued to hold the rains at bay and leave the town of Farmington in the grip of a promise of moisture.

Chris walked beside the sharpshooter as they made their way towards the hotel. Vin was struggling not to show how much this was costing him, and Larabee could see the grim determination on the handsome face. He felt Wilmington on his right and knew Standish was on Tanner's left as the strode confidently towards their final destination.

The sheriff had come to them the day before and explained that Judge Spencer had set the trial for the following day at nine am. The prosecutor was a man named Joseph Mallory and was widely known for his ability to draw the truth from an accused man or a reluctant witness. Mindy Lawrence would not be testifying until the following day, and only if her grandparents were there at that time.

The four peacekeepers made it to the hotel and were not surprised at the crowd waiting to be allowed inside. A few faces were familiar to Larabee and Tanner, but many had come from the outlying areas, the thrill of a murder trial bringing out the morbid curiosity in a lot of people. They stepped into the slightly cooler interior of the hotel and waited to be led to their seats.

---

Columber looked at the man he was supposed to defend. The power he had over the man was strong, yet not as satisfying as when he lorded himself over men like Larabee and Tanner. They fought against his wishes, and were worthy of his attention. Once this coward's job was done he would be sent to live his life in his own Hell, a place where he would suffer at the hands of demons who knew how to inflict terror into the hearts of their victims. He smiled as he slipped through the iron bars and walked towards the cot.

Clark cringed in the back of the cell as the older man moved towards him. The sheriff would be coming for him once everyone was seated in the makeshift courtroom, but for now he was alone and he trembled in fear.

"You will do exactly as I say in the courtroom. You will not speak unless I wish it. You will answer questions put to you by the judge, but I will speak for you. I will defend you in my own way. And your reward will be an eternal life in which you serve those who are stronger than you. Do you understand me?"

"Y...yes, Ma...Master..."

"Good, the sheriff is on his way," Columber said as he melted through the bars of the cell once more. He smiled as he saw the terror his words caused the prisoner, but hid it as Thompson came through the door.

"It's time, Clark," Thompson said, reaching for the steel bars and wincing at the cold he felt there.

"My client is ready, Sheriff," Columber said.

"Doesn't matter to me if he is or not. Judge says he's to be brought to the courtroom." Thompson walked into the cell and secured the prisoner's arms behind his back.

"That's not necessary, Sheriff. Can assure you Mr. Clark is not going to attempt to escape."

"All prisoners are escorted to trial like this," the lawman said as he grabbed Clark's arm and led him out of the cell.

---

Chris sat next to the sharpshooter and felt a small tremor run through the lean body. The hotel was crowded with people who wanted to see and hear what the witnesses had to say. The gunslinger knew the his friend was nervous about the growing crowd, yet Vin Tanner would do what needed to be done to see James Clark paid for his crimes. They'd been informed that Columber and Clark requested a bench trial and therefore it would not be necessary to pick a jury from the townspeople.

All eyes turned to the back of the room as Thompson entered with the accused man. He led him to the front of the courtroom and shackled the man's foot to the defense table.

Larabee held his emotions in check as Columber entered and strode confidently towards his client. Chris felt the man's eyes on him and turned to meet the gaze. His own blue eyes filled with green fire as he glared at the newcomer. Something about Columber tore deeply at him, yet he couldn't place what it was or why it was happening.

"Chris, you alright?"

The gunslinger turned towards the ladies man and nodded as the lawyer passed them.

"I'm fine, Buck," he answered and knew Vin Tanner was also aware of Columber's presence. Their attention shifted to the front of the court as they were ordered to stand and the judge entered the room.

Spencer took his seat and picked up his gavel before ordering the spectators to take their seats. He took control immediately and spoke in a strong, confident voice that brooked no arguments.

"Most of you know me and understand that I run a strict courtroom. I will not allow anyone to grandstand or make a fiasco of these proceedings. I can and will have this courtroom cleared if I feel it's necessary. Now that I have made myself clear we shall proceed with the case against James Clark. The defendant is charged with the murder of Francine Lawrence and Thomas Cooke. How does your client plead, Mr. Columber?"

The lawyer stood up and faced the bench before speaking loud and clear.

"My client enters a plea of not guilty, Your Honor."

"So entered." Spencer agreed and turned to the crowd squeezed into the room.

"We will now hear opening statements from Mr. Mallory and Mr. Columber. Mr. Mallory, the floor is yours."

Joseph Mallory stood up and addressed the people of the court.

"Your Honor, I am prepared to present evidence that will prove James Clark is guilty of the gruesome murder of Francine Lawrence and Thomas Cooke. That he did knowingly and with forethought, take their lives in a vicious manner. The testimony will prove that the defendant deserves to be found guilty of this malicious crime against humanity." Mallory completed his opening statement and took his seat as Columber stood up.

"Your Honor. I will prove beyond a doubt that my client is innocent of these heinous charges and that the true guilty party is that man there!" Columber said, turning and pointing at Vin Tanner. The reaction was instantaneous as Larabee stood up to defend his friend. The crowd in the courtroom shuffled their feet and more voices joined the gunslingers.

"That's a damn lie!" Larabee snarled.

Spencer banged his gavel on the desk in front of him in an order to regain control.

"Mr. Columber, you are to keep your statement to the pertinent facts of this case and you are not to make accusations like those again! Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly, Your Honor," Columber said as he sat down next to his client. He'd gotten the reaction he wanted and would wait for the next phase of the trial to begin before dropping other bombshells on them. He turned his head towards his intended victim and felt the man's anger, and knew he'd chosen well.

Spencer turned his attention from the lawyer to the man seated next to the prime witness. He knew Chris Larabee was defending his friend, but he could not allow any more outbursts in his court.

"Mr. Larabee, you will refrain from such displays in my courtroom or I will have you banned from these proceedings. Do you understand?"

Larabee stood up and faced the judge. He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he answered.

"Understood, Your Honor," he said before sitting down.

"Thanks, Chris," Tanner whispered as the gunslinger re-took his seat.

"Mr. Mallory, are you prepared to call your first witness?"

"I am, Your Honor. I call Vincent Tanner."

Vin stood up and moved towards the witness chair. He felt Columber's eyes on him and winced as a sharp pain spread through his back. He fought against the nausea and pain as he stood in front of the sheriff and waited to be sworn in.

"Raise your right hand," Thompson ordered and waited for the younger man to comply.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, so help you God?"

"I do," Tanner answered.

"Please be seated, Mr. Tanner," Spencer ordered and waited for the injured man to sit down.

Vin could feel everyone looking at him, but was confident about what he had to say.

Mallory walked away from his desk and stood in front of the witness as he spoke to his star witness.

"Mr. Tanner, could you tell the court what you witnessed on the morning of June 18th?"

Vin tried to get comfortable in the seat as he told his tale.

"Me and Chris were on our way ta Jasper. We stopped at the stage depot to water our horses and grab somethin' ta eat."

"Was there anyone else at the depot?"

"Yes, Sir. Man named Grady who runs the place."

"Anyone else?"

"The stagecoach driver, two passengers, and Clark," the last word was said with vehemence and loathing as he looked at the man seated beside Columber.

"How did you come to follow the stage?"

"Me and Chris thought something..."

"Objection, Yer Honor. The witness cannot say what his friend thought."

"Objection sustained. Mr. Tanner you will not state what others may think."

"Yes, Yer Honor," the young man said. "We...I thought there was something strange about the way Clark was acting."

"Strange? How so?" Mallory asked curiously.

"He jest seemed nervous about somethin'. Like he was plannin..."

"Objection! Your Honor, Mr. Tanner cannot say what my client was planning."

"Objection Sustained. Mr. Tanner please confine your answers to fact," the judge ordered.

"Yes, Sir," the tracker said exasperatedly. He looked at the gunslinger and saw the confidence in the green eyes.

Stay calm, Vin, Larabee sent, and smiled thinly at the affirmative nod.

"Please continue, Mr. Tanner," Mallory said when the silence seemed to stretch on for too long.

"The stagecoach left and me and Chris ate with ol' man Grady. We finished and started after the stage. I don't know how long it took us ta catch up, but Chris' horse came up lame and he said he'd catch up with me."

"So you went on alone?" the prosecutor asked.

"Yes, Sir. I rode until I saw the coach. It was stopped and the driver was already dead. Clark killed him..."

"Objection. Your Honor" Columber hissed indignantly.

"Mr. Tanner did not witness my client kill the stage driver, did you, Mr. Tanner?"

"No, I didn't, but..."

"Then he has no right to say my client killed the driver," Columber interrupted. He could feel the tension in the courtroom, yet Larabee and Tanner did not seem perturbed by what was happening.

"Objection Sustained, Mr. Tanner, please keep your answers to what you witnessed.

"Yes, Yer Honor," the sharpshooter said softy.

"Please tell the court what you witnessed after you caught up with the stage," Mallory ordered.

"I got to the stage and saw the driver lyin' on top. I looked inside and saw the little girl. She was cryin' and said someone took her Aunt. There was a scream and I ran towards the brush. That's when I saw Clark kill the woman. He had a knife in his hand and stabbed her with it. I couldn't save her, but I had ta get him away from her and make sure he didn't hurt anyone else," Tanner said, wincing as he tried to move in the seat.

"Thank you, Mr. Tanner. No further questions at this time, Your Honor," Mallory said.

"Mr. Columber, do you wish to cross examine this witness?" Spencer asked as the lawyer stood up.

"Indeed I do, Your Honor," Columber said as he moved towards the young man. He knew this witness had sealed Clark's fate, but there were things he wanted brought out in the open. Things that would anger Tanner and his friends, especially the gunslinger.

"Mr. Tanner, can you state for certain that Mr. Clark murdered the woman?"

Blue eyes turned glacial as the tracker turned to look at the lawyer.

"I saw him kill Miss Lawrence," Tanner said, using the woman's name in a show of respect.

"So you said, but, is that the truth, Mr. Tanner? Or are you hiding something"

"Ain't got nothin' ta hide," the tracker said.

"I think you do," Columber said, standing in front of the young man and pointing his finger at the young tracker's shoulder..

Vin could see something beyond the dark irises, something that shouldn't be there. He felt a burning sensation race through his right shoulder as the man lifted his hand and pointed at him. He strained upwards on the seat, trying to hide how uncomfortable he felt. He knew if he dropped his gaze this man would consider it a victory and he couldn't allow that. He continued to meet the man's gaze wincing as a dull pain began behind his eyes.

"Is it not true that you once lived with the Indians?" the lawyer asked, catching and holding the tracker's eyes.

"Objection. What does Mr. Tanner's background have to do with whether the defendant killed Francine Lawrence?" Mallory asked.

"Objection sustained," Spencer ordered. "Mr. Columber, keep your questions to the necessary facts."

"Yes, Your Honor," Columber said, turning away from the tracker momentarily. He could feel the anger emanating from Chris Larabee and knew the blond would not stand by and see his friend badgered indifferently. He turned back to the witness and smiled charmingly at him.

Vin swallowed painfully as the dull headache began to grow behind his eyes, and reached up to rub at them.

"Mr. Tanner," Columber began again.

Chris watched the proceedings carefully, his eyes boring daggers into the lawyer's back. The man seemed to be doing something to Vin Tanner, yet he could not place what it was. The set of the tracker's shoulders and the pain evident in the blue eyes were signs that everything was not as it seemed. He fought to control his rising temper as the man continued to badger his friend.

"Easy, Chris, don't set the judge off again," Wilmington warned as placed a hand on Larabee's arm.

Larabee nodded and turned his attention back to the front of the room where his friend continued to look uncomfortable.

"Mr. Tanner, are you sure of what you seen that day?" Columber asked softly. "I mean it was hot and you had been riding for some time."

"I... weren't ridin' that long," Tanner objected, squirming as the oppressive heat invaded the courtroom. He felt tiny beads of sweat on his forehead, yet no one else seemed to be feeling the heat.

"Ah, but you'd been traveling for several days before this. You and Mr. Larabee were helping out some local peacekeepers."

"Yeah, we delivered two prisoners ta Yuma and helped catch another one," the tracker answered, shifting as the man's eyes seemed to change before him. Shifting from black to crimson to black again, causing his head to spin as he tried to meet the older man's gaze.

"So you spent a week or so resting before you headed to Jasper?"

"No, me and Chris left the next day..."

"Ah, so you spent weeks out hunting criminals, return home to Four Corners, and then leave immediately for Jasper. Weren't you tired? Didn't you need sleep?"

"Wasn't ti..."

"Isn't it true that once you caught up with the stage you were so tired you could've..."

"I wasn't tired..." he growled hostily.

"...fallen asleep on the spot and furthermore didn't you fall asleep as soon as Mr. Larabee made you get into the wagon?"

Vin found it hard to draw breath as the man stood before him, the dead eyes seeming to reach through to his core.

"Got hurt when..."

"When you attacked my client after he tried to save Miss Lawrence!" Columber took his hypnotic gaze off the tracker as he heard Larabee's shout from behind him.

"Objection, Your Honor!" Mallory shouted, but his voice was drowned out by Larabee's enraged cry.

"That's not how it happened..."

"Mr. Larabee sit down!" Spencer ordered.

The irate blond was not to be stopped as he glared at the lawyer, his words strong as his temper escalated. "Vin was hurt when he tried to save her..."

"Mr. Larabee, sit down! One more outburst and I'll find you in contempt of court. Do I make myself clear?" the judge banged his gavel until the irate blond was looking at him.

"Chris, sit down. You're not helping Vin's case," Standish said as he pulled Larabee back down in his seat. The gambler felt like he was sitting next to a coiled snake, ready to strike its enemy.

"Mr. Columber, you will refrain from badgering the witness," Spencer said as the courtroom grew quiet once more.

"I do apologize, Your Honor," the lawyer said, turning back to the tracker. He hid a smile at how pale the young man had grown and began questioning him again.

"Mr. Tanner, is it true that you were once a bounty hunter?"

"I...yes...I was," the peacekeeper stammered, his throat closing behind a dry mouth.

"Did you always bring your victims..."

"Bounties," Tanner corrected.

"Ah, yes, I do apologize. Did you always bring your vic...bounties in alive?"

"...when I could?" Tanner answered.

"Ah, but how often was that? Is it not true that there are a few questionable," he turned his gaze to court as he spoke. "Bounties."

"Objection, Your Honor!" Mallory snapped as he stood up and faced the judge.

"Mr. Columber, where is this line of questioning leading?" Spencer asked.

"It will show Mr. Tanner's character and his credibility as a witness in this case, Your Honor."

"Objection overruled, but, Mr. Columber, don't overstep your bounds!" Spencer added

"Thank you, Your Honor," the attorney said as he turned his attention back to the witness.

"Now, Mr. Tanner, is it not true that there are a few questionable bounties?"

"Like how?" Tanner's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the line of questioning.

"Do you remember a man named Brady Caldwell?" He smiled as the young man's face paled even further at the mention of the name. He watched as Tanner tried to look past him and knew he was seeking out his friend. There was something about the two men he couldn't quite grasp, and he kept his body between them.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Tanner. Do you remember a man named Brady Caldwell?"

Vin continued to stare at the man, unaware of the time passing as he tried to regain his composure.

"Your Honor!" Columber said, hands in the air as a sign of frustration.

"Mr. Tanner, answer the question!" Spencer ordered.

"I..." he tried to look around the attorney, but it seemed as if the man's bulk changed with his movements, blocking out the people at the back of the courtroom.

Chris' anger grew as he listened to the lawyer badgering his friend about old bounties. He knew nothing about Brady Caldwell, but the younger man's reaction told him all he needed to know. He trusted Vin Tanner, and knew in his heart the tracker had not done anything wrong, in spite of his reactions. He turned to the man next to him as a hand tapped at his forearm.

"Who?" Wilmington whispered and was surprised when the gunslinger shook hid head, showing his own confusion.

Larabee's gaze quickly returned to the front of the room and the pained look on the tracker's face.

"Should I repeat the question again, Mr. Tanner?" Columber asked.

"He was a b...bounty I brung in a few years ago," Tanner answered, feeling his throat constrict at the thought of the outlaw.

"What happened to him?"

"...h...he died..."

"Would you mind telling the court how Mr. Caldwell met his demise?"

"I shot 'im," the tracker whispered.

"Excuse me? I didn't hear that, Mr. Tanner would you mind repeating your answer?" Columber suggested innocently.

"Said...I shot 'im." Vin could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as the man again blocked his view of the courtroom.

"What were the circumstances behind his death?" Columber asked as he watched the pale face blanch further.

"He drew a gun and I shot him," Tanner hissed, his voice deceptively soft. The truth was the death of Brady Caldwell had filled him with guilt. He closed his eyes for a moment as nausea once more churned with the advent of the vivid memory. Brady Caldwell had been on the run for several months and Vin was close on his heels. He finally caught up with him after several weeks of trekking through the mountainous terrain in Mexico. Caldwell was holed up in an old tracker's cabin. He'd been drawing water from the well and when he saw Vin approaching he cried out his innocence. The sharpshooter had heard this from almost every bounty he'd gone after and knew it was a last ditch attempt to save their own skins.

The man had finally drawn his gun and Vin ordered him to drop his weapon. Brady's reply was a hail of bullets and he'd been forced to shoot to save his own life. The problem was Brady Caldwell was innocent, the bounty having been put out on the wrong man. He remembered his own reaction when the sheriff informed him of the mistake, and tried to assure Tanner that it was not his fault. He'd walked around the side of the jailhouse and quickly vomited everything that was in his stomach, until all that was left was dry heaves. He sank down on the ground as the guilt gnawed at his gut and left him cold inside. The attorney's voice brought him back to the present, but the cold had returned to eat at his soul. The bounty on his own head a reminder of just how easy mistakes were made and innocent lives lost.

"That's not the whole truth is it, Mr. Tanner?"

"I...yeah...it is," the Texan stammered.

"Isn't it true that..."

"Objection, Your honor. Defense is trying to put words in the witness's mouth."

"Objection sustained. Mr. Columber, you will desist in this line of questioning," Spencer ordered.

"I do apologize, Your Honor. I was just trying to show that Mr. Tanner could and would murder someone..."

"You lousy sonofabitch!" Larabee hissed. "Vin didn't murder anyone!"

Spencer banged his gavel and tried again to regain control as Columber continued to speak.

"That he took that knife and stabbed Francine Lawrence before she could..."

"...lying sack of shit..." Larabee interrupted.

"...reveal to my client, who was trying to save her, that Mister Tanner was the one who assaulted her and was trying to silence her."

The gunslinger's reaction was instantaneous as he heard the accusation made against the younger man. He leaped across the few feet between himself and the lawyer, a raging bull, seeing red before its eyes.

Columber gasped at the unexpected attack and fell to the floor as a dark figure roared over his head. He knew Larabee was a force to be reckoned with, but even in his own black soul he had not seen this.

Wilmington and Standish shook off their shock and hurried to pull their friend off the attorney. Larabee's body was like a tightly drawn bowstring as the grabbed onto his arms and finally forced the blond away from the object of his hatred.

Vin sat in the chair, his body taut as he tried to stand. He heard the judge calling for order and saw the gambler and the ladies' man pulling the blond off the lawyer. His back was on fire as he levered himself upwards, yet he knew he had to help his friends.

Columber felt a ripple of fear race through his body as he watched the tracker try to stand. The sensation was something he'd never felt before and he briefly wondered if he should continue with his plans for Chris Larabee. He turned his attention back to the witness as he dropped back into the chair. Something needed to be done to lessen the force between the two friends.

"Let me go!" Larabee snarled as his two friends held tightly to his arms. He heard the judge banging the gavel once more as the noise level in the courtroom died down.

"Mr. Larabee, I warned you what would happen if you disrupted these proceeding again! Sheriff, take Mr. Larabee into custody! Perhaps a night as a guest in your jail will give him a new respect for the law!"

"You gonna let him away with this, Judge?" Larabee asked angrily, his hands fisted at his sides as Standish and Wilmington tried to contain the unleashed tiger. He could see the sharpshooter wilting in his seat and knew the Texan was suffering intense pain. He also sensed something else in Tanner's demeanor and knew he had to get him away from Columber's intense questioning.

"Mr. Larabee, this is my courtroom..."

"Then prove it. Columber is making a circus out of this...he's twisting all the facts up..."

"C...Chris," Tanner moaned as he tried to look away from Columber's burning eyes. The fire in his back erupted to encompass his body as the lawyer refused to release his hold. He felt the last of his strength leaving him as the pain doubled and tripled in his back and head. Nausea rolled through him as he finally forced his eyes away from the deadly gaze of the defense attorney.

Columber knew he had to do something as again he felt the strength of the bond of friendship between the two men. Tanner had dropped his eyes, but it wasn't from fear, the man was injured, but still held a strength that mystified the lawyer. His almost silent call to the gunslinger sent chills down his spine and he knew he had to end things before the two men discovered his own secret. He ignored everyone but the tracker and waited until the young man's head came up again. The fact that he could still meet his gaze caused another ripple of fear, and he unleashed an invisible force that slowly engulfed the Texan.

The air around him swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors as Columber seemed to grow in size before his eyes. A foul odor permeated the air and he struggled to breath as the agony in his back was diminished by an explosion of pain behind his eyes. His tortured scream split the heated air in the room as consciousness left him and he slid from the chair.

"Vin!" Larabee rushed forward and knelt beside the tracker, worry evident in the set of his shoulders and the slight tremble in the hand that reached out to touch the younger man's throat. A soft sigh of relief escaped his closed lips as he felt the ripple of a pulse beneath his fingertips. His hand moved to lie against the tracker's chest just over the strongly beating heart.

"Doc, he needs help!"

"Just hold him still, Chris," the physician ordered as he checked the unresponsive tracker.

Larabee turned a deadly glare on the man he knew caused all of this. Somehow, C.F. Columber was hurting his friend and he would do anything in his power to stop that. He placed his hand on the Texan's heart and sent a promise through his eyes.

Columber's eyes widened as he once more sensed the ripple of light through his own dark soul. Fear mixed with curiosity as he watched the two men. Although the tracker was unconscious, he still oozed strength while Larabee's hands rested against the lean chest. He knew he'd chosen his victim well, but wondered if the unseen force the two men exuded could be his downfall. He felt the draw of the Inn and knew it was time to complete Larabee's journey to the dark world where his soul could be blackened beyond redemption. He forced his gaze away and felt the fear leave him, but resolved to move things along in spite of his new revelations.

"Order! Take your seats or this courtroom will be cleared!" Spencer shouted as the uproar in his court continued to grow. He banged the gavel again and again until some semblance of control returned and the people sat down once more. He turned his attention to the scene taking place beside his bench, and could see the pain radiating from the sweat-ridden pale features. He knew Larabee was concerned for his friend, but he would not allow him to disrupt the trial again. He watched as O'Malley examined the unconscious young man before speaking to the gunslinger.

"Mr. Larabee, I find you in contempt of court and Sheriff Thompson will escort you to the jail where you will spend the next twenty four hours!"

Wilmington couldn't believe what was happening and he turned a dark glare at the judge.

"No..." the gambler hissed softly. He knew the volatile ladies' man was as angry as he was with the turn of events, yet nothing would be served by them joining Larabee in the jail. The judge's next words proved he was right.

Spencer turned to see Larabee's friends moving towards the bench.

"Sit down! Or you will be joining Mr. Larabee in his cell!"

"Buck, Ezra, do as he says. Vin's gonna need your help. How is he, Doc?" the blond asked worriedly.

"I can't conduct a proper examination here. It could be relapse...I want him out of this court and in bed."

"Sheriff, you will escort Mr. Larabee to jail," Spencer ordered.

Thompson nodded and moved towards the gunslinger. He felt bad for what he was about to do, but there was no choice. Judge Spencer was a fair man and Larabee had disrupted his courtroom, not once, but twice, and now the gunslinger would have to pay.

"Sorry, Chris," he said as he tugged on the blond's arm.

Larabee nodded as he was pulled away from the tracker. Vin's face seemed to have relaxed somewhat and the gunslinger knew there was nothing he could do to help him. He trusted O'Malley and was confident Wilmington and Standish would protect the tracker. He turned to his two friends as he walked towards the door.

"Take care of Vin," he said to the two who followed him.

Standish said as the sheriff took Larabee out of the room.

William Spencer waited until the courtroom quieted and took a deep breath before speaking.

"In light of the circumstances we will adjourn for today. Court will reconvene at nine tomorrow morning. Court dismissed," he said as he banged his gavel on the desk. He saw Columber speak to his client before leaving the hotel.

Buck and Ezra knelt beside the injured tracker, concern evident on both faces as the doctor finished his examination. They were only slightly relieved when the doctor tried to reassure them that his patient would be fine with bed rest and quiet.

O'Malley frowned as the two men laughed at his statement, briefly wondering what he'd missed. He shook his head and once more turned his attention to his patient and moving him back to Molly Richmond's home.

---

Thompson opened the door to the second cell and waited for Larabee to enter. He admired the man for his loyalty to his friends and wished he didn't have to confine him.

Chris walked into the cell and made his way to the cot set against the back wall. The heat was oppressive as he sank down onto the rough blanket. He laid on his back, placed one arm across his eyes, and pulled one black clad leg up until it was bent at the knee. He heard the cell door close and shuddered at the thought of being confined to the jail. His worry for Vin Tanner continued to grow as the sheriff's footsteps crossed the small confines and left him alone with his thoughts. There was something about Columber he didn't trust. The man seemed to leech the warmth from the air and in spite of the heat he felt chilled to the bone. He heard a soft sound at the window and sat up on the cot.

A large black crow appeared at the window. Its feather ruffled by a non-existent breeze, red eyes burning into his very soul. He knew what he was seeing was evil in the truest sense and cried out as pain engulfed his mind and he lost consciousness.

The crow seemed to smile as it stared at the gunslinger, enjoying the pain and torment it could cause with just a look. It heard a sound at the door and spread its wings. It flew off before anyone else saw it, content in the knowledge that Chris Larabee would soon be where he belonged.

---

Thompson returned to the courtroom in time to see Vin Tanner being carried out. The young man was still unconscious, but he was being escorted by Wilmington and Standish. He nodded to the two men before moving towards his prisoner. He unshackled Clark's legs and placed the handcuffs back on the man's wrists before leading him past the throng of onlookers. He held the prisoner's right arm as they strode across the street and into the jail. He frowned as Larabee didn't move when he opened the door, but marked it down to the gunslinger's exhaustion. He knew the man was worried about his friend and hadn't been sleeping very well since their arrival.

"Get in!" the sheriff ordered as he opened the door to Clark's cell. He released the handcuffs before closing and locking the door.

Clark walked disjointedly towards his cot and sank onto the uncomfortable mattress. He didn't hear the door shut, didn't see the sheriff leave, didn't notice the man on the bed in the other cell. His mind was reeling with the words Columber had whispered in his ear before leaving the court.

The time has come for you to join my legion of demons. You will know when the time is at hand!'

Those words terrified him in their simplicity. Something big was going to happen tonight, something that would make him strong, yet he feared what it would be. His eyes drifted to the man in the next cell and he realized that nothing Columber done to him would compare to the plans he had for Chris Larabee. He lay back on the cot, knowing he wouldn't sleep, yet craving the comfort of his dreams. The remainder of the day loomed ahead of him like a dark abyss and he knew it would only get worse as he waited for Columber to make his move.

---

Vin moved on the bed, trying to remember what had happened to cause the pain in his back to return. He was laying on his back, his head slightly elevated by pillows. His instincts told him to remain where he was, yet he needed answers to his questions. He felt a hand touch his arm and forced his eyelids open.

"Doc says you need to lie still, Vin."

"B...Buck..." he stammered and accepted the cool water the ladies man held in front of his mouth. He drank his fill and tried to find his voice once more. When he did he was surprised at how weak it sounded.

"What hap...happened?"

"You passed out in the courtroom," the ladies man explained.

"Passed out?" the tracker asked, fighting to grasp his elusive memories.

"Yeah, I swear that son-of-a-bitch Columber has horns...bastard had his hooks in you good..."

"Columber...Shit...Chris... Buck, where's Chris?" the young man gasped as he tried to sit forward.

"Easy, Vin, don't try to move around yet. Doc says you need bed rest and..."

"Where's Chris?" the tracker asked, trying to bring the memories into focus.

"The judge charged him with contempt and he's spending the night in jail..."

"What? Shit! Ain't Chris' fault."

"That's not how the judge sees it, Vin. Look ol' Chris can handle himself and Ezra's gone over to check on him. You need to take it easy before you do permanent damage to your back!"

"Back's...o...okay," the tracker hissed.

"No! It's not. I told Chris I'd watch out for you..."

"Don't need..."

"I know you don't need me too, but I ain't breaking my word to Chris!" the ladies man said, knowing the tracker's stubbornness was due to his need to hide the pain he was in.

Tanner knew the older man was worried and settled back against the bed, his eyes drifting to the darkness beyond the curtains.

"How long have I been out?"

"'Bout eight hours. It's nearly seven o'clock," Wilmington explained and watched as the blue eyes slowly closed. He knew the Texan wasn't sleeping and spoke softly.

"Molly saved dinner for you. Feel up to eating?"

The injured man nodded his head slowly without opening his eyes. The thought of eating made his stomach nauseous yet, something told him he'd need his strength for whatever lay ahead of them. He continued to try and force the memories to clear, but all he could see was a black crow with glowing crimson eyes.

"I'll be right back," the ladies' man told him.

Vin heard Wilmington leave the room and opened his eyes. He'd tried again to remember the details of the trial, and was frustrated by his continued lack of success. The only thing he was sure of was that Columber was behind the things that were happening to him and Chris Larabee.

---

Darkness spread across the little town as evil untold began to take things a step further. The crow rested atop the highest tree on the outskirts of Farmington. It waited for the hour to be right and the town to be deeply entrenched in the world of dreams. Patience was something it learned during its life. Cold evil things could be drawn out, spinning a world of fear and terror around a victim. The crimson eyes radiated evil as the last of the light was extinguished from the homes. Its eyes remained on the jail, knowing that was where its attention was needed this night. Two men would soon know what nightmares were, one in the real world and one as an observer, who'd wake with only vague memories of the horror he witnessed.

The crow waited another hour before spreading its wings wide. With a feral cry it spread a grotesque shadow against the midnight black sky. It swooped low before coming to rest on the barred window of the cell housing Chris Larabee. Its eyes bored into the darkly clad figure stretched out on the small cot, sending icy tendrils that interrupted the man's deep sleep.

Whisper-soft moans escaped from deep inside the gunslinger as his dreams took on a morbid quality. His lean body turn onto his right side as he drew his left leg up and crossed it over the other. His leg slid back and forth as his eyelids flickered and opened.

Chris sat up on the bed and rested his head in his hands. Through a fog-like haze, his features wrinkling, he frowned at the deep darkness surrounding him. He looked around the cell, unable to discern the walls or the bars or the tiny window covered in iron bars. He looked down and was surprised that even his hands seemed to be completely invisible to him. A sound from the other cell caught his attention and he raised his head.

---

James Clark had lain awake through the darkening twilight, tossing and turning as the words continued to repeat in his terrified mind. Each time sleep seemed eminent; his eyes snapped open and a soft sob left the murderer's throat. The whites of his eyes were streaked with red lines as he gazed through the open windows of his cell. His hands fisted in the old blanket as he pulled it tight around, vainly trying to keep the imaginary chill from his body. He lost track of time as he lay in the darkness, waiting for whatever was to come. A sound at the window made him tighten his grip on the blanket, but the sound was repeated and he forced himself to look up.

---

The scene in the next cell was almost surreal to the blond prisoner. His eyes seemed to be frozen, as he was unable to shut out what he was seeing. The cell was bathed in a sickening cloud of crimson colored light, the nauseating strobes undulating against the stone walls. He watched as a large black crow landed on the floor of the next cell, its loud screeching cry harsh on his ears.

Chris watched, entranced as James Clark, a large man by most standards began to shrivel up before his eyes. He swallowed a cry of fear as the human form began to wither. The sounds of bones shrinking in on themselves, of skin being shrunk and discolored. He couldn't turn his eyes from the bed as hands and feet became grotesque appendages, no longer human in form. Skin became translucent, graying in color as a light fur began to cover the changing body. The eyes turned towards Chris pleading for help, but the gunslinger could not move. He could not take his eyes from the twisted form that was once James Clark, a murderer, but a man just the same. Chris watched as the smaller form turned onto its stomach and legs and arms shortened to stubs. The head changed and the nose became slightly elongated as the mouth protruded slightly. Ears appeared atop the head and a tail began to form. The gunslinger briefly wondered where the man's clothes were, but a shocking scream erupted from the newly formed body on the cot.

"No!"

Larabee heard Clark's scream of pain and terror, as his own heart beat rapidly against his chest. His hands reached up to cover his ears as the screeching cry became unbearable. Pain erupted in his skull but still he could not take his eyes away from the scene being played out in the next cell. His body felt strange and he looked down at himself, fear dissipating as he realized he was still himself. That he had not changed like Clark, and was still a human being. He stood on shaky legs as inch by agonizing inch the black beast dwarfed the mouse. He knew Clark was a murderer, but something like this was not real to him as the crow pounced onto the bed and sunk its talons into the quivering mass.

Clark heard the man in the next cell, but couldn't understand why he was so terrified. The crow with the crimson eyes was now on his chest, and its eyes seemed to be boring straight through his skull into his mind.

Not long now, James. You will be where you belong! Columber eased his talons into the man's chest, gouging deep into the flesh, shattering bone as it worked past the ribs and into the rapidly beating heart.

The murderer's eyes opened wide as his upper body seemed to be ripped open. His heart filled with an icy fluid, replacing the blood it normally pumped and turning his body cold. His arms stayed at his side as he accepted his death, knowing Columber would take care of him now. That he belonged to this creature, this demon, his new master, and that he would reap the rewards that went with it.

Chris continued to watch as the crow ripped out the mouse's throat. Tearing the flesh with its beak before turning towards him. The red eyes glowed malevolently as blood dripped from its cawing mouth, promising a similar fate in the near future. He couldn't take his eyes from the scene as the talon ripped open the chest of its victim and held a tiny beating heart in its claw. It suckled at the small organ, blood oozing from its mouth as it hopped off the cot and advanced on the gunslinger. Its body seemed impossibly long as it stood in front of the bars, the heart still held in its beak. Chris moved back, his knees connecting with the cot as he dropped down. He couldn't tear his gaze from the hypnotic red eyes set in the crow head.

Lie down, the bird ordered, the words seeming to come from inside Larabee's mind. He tried to turn his head, but pain exploded through his body as the impossible happened and the murdering crow stepped between the bars and entered his cell.

"No!" his mind screamed as his body surrendered to the nauseating spell the bird seemed to have over him. He lay back against the pillow, his eyes wide as the creature hopped onto his chest. Impossible as it seemed he felt as if the crow was crushing his chest, its weight pressing down on his ribs. Again he heard it speaking inside his head and trembled as his body automatically obeyed.

Open your mouth!

"NO!"

You cannot stop what is to come. I will own your body...your mind...your soul...I will own you.

"No!" Chris repeated, but no sound left his mouth as the crow stood over his tightly clenched lips.

You are to be marked, the crow hissed in his mind as it glared red fire at its intended victim. Its head turned from side to side as it heard approaching footsteps. Seeing its chance slipping away it hopped onto the bed, but didn't release its hypnotic stare. It used its talons to rip the small bandage from the wound on Larabee's arm and knew this second marking would work.

Chris watched as the creature before him squeezed the still beating heart and blood dripped onto the wound on his arm. He cried out as if he'd been scalded, but no sound left his throat as the red spiraled to black and his eyes closed.

The crow swallowed the last of the heart, relishing the feel of the pounding organ and the thrill of the blood it held. Engorged on Clark's sacrifice it looked longingly at the unconscious man before spreading its wings and flying through the metal bars on the window.

---

Thompson opened the door to the jail, lit the lamp on the table, and checked both prisoners. Satisfied that the two men were sleeping, he turned down the flame and walked outside. Normally he stayed in the jail when he had prisoners, but tonight something prevented that. He'd been shocked when he opened his eyes and realized how late it was. He looked into the brightly lit sky as a shadow crossed the pregnant moon, partially obliterating the orb with darkness. He turned back to the jail and stepped inside; glad to see the gunslinger seemed to be sleeping comfortably. The heat was sweltering as he sank into the chair and picked up the dime store novel he'd been reading.

---

At the edge of town the crow landed on the open window. Its head rocked from side to side as it listened to the soft cries of the man sleeping inside. That Vin Tanner was a threat to his plans was easy to see, but to kill him now would ensure the loss of his true victim.

Chris Larabee would join him and become a guardian at the Inn of Lost Souls. A place where he reigned supreme, where his power reached beyond the limits of time and distance. Where the souls once trapped provided an energy that would be his. All he needed was a source, a slave, and a soul, so strong, that it could harness that power for him. The lost souls were ensconced at the Inn and would be kept there by his demons. Columber knew what was needed and was sure things were falling into place. Chris Larabee needed to make the ultimate sacrifice in order for him to reap the rewards of owning the gunslinger. An idea began to form in the evil brain housed in the head of the crow and a soft caw left it as it again spread its wings and flew towards the circle it craved.

---

Vin's dreams were horrifyingly filled by man-sized crows with blood colored eyes and black feathered heads. He moaned as he shifted on the bed, but not because of the injury to his back. Every nightmare he ever had replayed behind closed lids. His choked cries stuck in his throat as no air entered his lungs. His mother's loving face appeared, then melted away. The rotting corpse with missing flesh leered at him from dark empty sockets. Her body showing the ravages of long years of hardship.

You did this to me, Vin. You call yourself a Tanner, but you don't deserve the name!

"N...no!" the moan became a cry of pain as he shifted on the bed. Blue eyes opened and glanced towards the window in time to see a large black bird spread its wings and fly away. His eyes closed once more as a soft whispered promise escaped his open mouth before he fell into a deep sleep once more. A nameless fear chilled him, icing him to the core. Something tried to break his soul. He pushed back with all his might. As he fell back into the blackness, he made his vow known to the evil unseen.

"...keep the fuck away...ya can't have...Chr...is..."

---

Thompson looked up as Jamie Turner shoved open the door. The young man's excited gaze went from the sheriff to the two sleeping men in the cells.

"What's going on, Jamie?" Thompson asked.

"The stage is just pulling in..."

"This early?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You said you wanted to meet it when it came in so I figured ya might want me to stay with the prisoners."

"Alright, Kid, they're both sleeping. Just leave them to it until I come back. Either of 'em wakes up before then just come get me."

"Sure, Sheriff," Jamie agreed and sat behind the desk.

Thompson hurried out of the jail and across the street as the stage pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. A man stepped down and reached inside to help someone down and he knew instinctively who they were. The woman's hair held a hint of gray, but the brown curls and soft eyes reminded him of the child staying with Molly Richmond. He covered the last few feet and stood beside them as the driver lowered their bags.

"Howdy, Folks."

"Hello, Sheriff," the man said, noting the star pinned to the man's shirt. "My name is Rupert Lawrence and this is my wife Jeannie. Can you point us to a man named Chris Larabee. I believe he has been looking after our grandchild for us."

"Oh, Sheriff, how is Mindy? Is she okay?" the woman asked, her eyes filled with worry as she asked her questions.

"Well, Ma'am, Mindy is doing very well. She's staying at the boarding house. Why don't we get Max," he said pointing to the driver. "To bring your bags inside and we'll go see her?"

"Yes, please," the woman said. She'd loved her family dearly and would miss them, but the child took priority right now. There would be time enough to face their own grief later, when they knew Mindy was safe. Her husband linked his arm through hers and they made their way down the street towards a house at the edge of town.

---

Jamie watched the two men sleeping as he picked up a deck of cards. So far neither man had moved or made a sound and he briefly wondered if he should check on them. Instead he shuffled the cards and fanned them out in his hands.

---

The crow chased the mouse, once more slamming it to the ground, before gouging at the small rodent's eyes with its talons. He watched hopelessly as the bird seemed to grow in size to become a man, only the face was evil, the eyes glowing red, the decayed black teeth protruding from hideous misshapen lips as its head swivelled towards him.

Open your mouth! it ordered, blood seeping from the corners of its mouth as the elongated fingers dug into the open raw wound in it's victim's chest. This time the beating heart was human and held tightly in the mouth of the creature staring backwards at him.

No! Chris hissed through tightly clenched teeth and backed away from the horrifying nightmare figure before him. He fought hard, pushing his slumbering body to the limit, forcing it to wake. But the harder he fought the more his mind became mired in the unreal world he was in. He turned and ran, yet his feet remained frozen in place and fetid breath reached his nostrils as the creature in human form closed the distance.

---

Jamie heard a sound from the cell where Chris Larabee lay on his side facing the wall. He frowned and listened for it to come again, but it didn't repeat and he returned his attention to the cards splayed out on the desk before him.

---

Molly wiped her hands on her apron and smiled at the child who busily mixed the cake batter at the table. She knew Vin Tanner was in good hands with Wilmington and Standish as she looked after the girl. Mindy had woken to find Chris missing and cried when she found out where he was. Molly held her through her sobs and asked if she'd like to make a cake for her friend. A knock at the door made the small head come up and a look of fear crossed the brown eyes. The older woman smiled in an effort to put the child at ease once more.

"You keep stirring that while I see who's at the door."

"Okay," Mindy sniffed as she concentrated on making the ingredients stick together again.

Molly walked out of the kitchen and opened the door to admit the sheriff.

"Hello, Hank," she greeted, her eyes swiftly taking in the couple with him. She'd always been able to read people and something about these two told her they were good people.

"Morning, Molly. This is Rupert and Jeannie Lawrence..."

"Mindy's grandparents?" she asked softly.

"That's right. Is Mindy around?"

Richmond stepped outside the door and closed it part way behind her. Once more wiping her hands in her apron.

"She's upset about Chris and I've..."

"Chris...Chris Larabee?" Rupert Lawrence asked.

"Yes," Molly answered.

"What's wrong with him?" Jeannie asked worriedly.

"Nothing, Ma'am," Thompson answered. "The judge found him in contempt yesterday and ordered that he spend the night in jail."

"Has the judge talked with our grandchild?" the concerned woman inquired.

"No, he didn't want her in the courtroom until you arrived. He'll probably speak to you both this afternoon before he lets her testify to what she saw," the lawman answered.

"We don't want her in the courtroom," Rupert told him.

Thompson nodded as he saw the deep worry on both faces. It was easy to see these two would be good for Mindy and he hoped Larabee would see that as well.

"I'll talk to Judge Spencer and see what he says."

"Thank you, Sheriff. Can we see our grandchild now," Jeannie asked.

"She's in the kitchen," Molly said and opened the door. She knew Mindy needed to see these people as much as they needed to see her. She led them towards the kitchen and stood watching he little girl concentrating on what she was doing.

"Mindy..." she started, but the need to see their grandchild was too much and the older couple pushed past her.

"Honey," Jeannie said, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Mindy," Rupert said as the child's head came up and looked at them, fear and uncertainty written on her face.

She looked up from the bowl and her first reaction was to cry as familiar eyes looked out at her from a man's face. Recognition finally dawned on her as the two rushed forward.

"...Grandpa...Nana...I's scared..." her voice became childish in her relief at seeing her grandparents. Tears glistened on her cheeks as she was picked up by her male relative and wrapped securely in his arms.

"It's okay, Honey. Grandpa and Nana are here now. We're not gonna let anyone hurt you," he said as he relinquished her into her grandmother's waiting arms.

"We're gonna take you back to St. Louis with us, Mindy..."

"B...but what about Chris, Nana? Can he come too?"

"Oh, sweetheart, I think Mr. Larabee has people who need him..." Jeannie began, but was interrupted by the child's sobbing voice.

"I...I n...need him..."

"Mindy." The girl lifted her head and looked up to see Molly standing next to her.

"You know Vin's hurt, right?" Richmond asked softly.

"H...hurt h...his back...."

"That's right and he needs Chris to help him. You wouldn't want Chris to leave Vin alone here would you?" the woman asked.

"N...no... Chris needs Vin..." she whispered, her eyes misting over as she looked at the woman standing beside her grandmother. "They need to stay together...like...brothers..."

Molly frowned, wondering where the child got that idea and knew it was truer than even she'd realized. These two men may not be related by blood, but there was something unique about their relationship. She shuddered at the thought that it might not be true much longer if things went according to her feelings.

"That's right, sweetie, and Vin needs his bro...brother to take care of him just like you need your Grandpa and Nana to look after you," Richmond explained.

"Can I see Chris before we leave?"

"Sure you can, Mindy," Jeannie assured her as she hugged her close.

"Molly, I'm gonna go see about getting Chris out of that cell."

"Okay, Hank. Would you like some coffee?" she asked her guests, and quickly moved to the stove as the child's excited voice explained why she was making the cake.

---

Jamie looked up from the desk as the sheriff entered the jail. He looked at his pocket watch and saw it was a little after ten am.

"Still not awake?" the lawman asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

"I thought Larabee was waking up, but he settled back down and went back to sleep. Clark never made a sound."

"That's strange," the sheriff whispered. Taking the keys from the peg behind the desk he hurried to Larabee's cell and unlocked the door. His eyes narrowed as the sleeping man remained where he was, facing the wall, eyes closed. he moved deeper into the cell and stood over the blond before speaking softly.

"Chris, it's time to get up," he tried, but still the gunman didn't move.

"Is he okay, Sheriff?" Jamie asked from the desk.

"Think so, just seems to be sleeping deeply. Chris," he called again, this time touched the man's shoulder.

A new voice invaded the darkness, strange, yet familiar at the same time. He reached for the voice, trying to force the nightmare about crows and mice away, but the red eyes refused to release him from their hypnotic gaze.

"Damn, he ain't waking up. Jamie, go get the doc..."

"Sure, Sheriff," the young man said and raced out of the jail as the sheriff moved to check on the second man.

---

Vin looked at the untouched meal before him, long grown cold in spite of Buck and Ezra's cajoling him about eating. He closed his eyes and tried to drown out their words as he sought out the answers to what was real and what wasn't. He knew the trial had happened, and that Columber was doing his best to get Clark off, but what about the other things. The way the man knew about Brady Caldwell. The way his dark, cold eyes seemed to bore through him, seeking out his essence and wrapping his fingers around him. A small whimpering cry escaped before he could stop it. His eyes shot open and he realized the two men hadn't heard, or chose to ignore it.

Since awakening at dawn he'd been plagued with vague memories, but couldn't quite grasp them. He knew he'd slept, but it wasn't a restful sleep as nightmares encroached on the edge of his dreams. Some managed to get through and those were the ones he was trying to remember. Somehow he knew Columber was responsible for not only those dreams, but for what was happening to Chris Larabee as well.

"Vin, you need to eat," Wilmington said as he looked at the barely touched food. He could see something was troubling the sharpshooter and knew it had something to do with what was happening in this town.

"...ain't hungry..." the tracker told him.

The ladies man knew there was no point in arguing and lifted the tray from the younger man's lap.

"I'll take that, Buck," Standish said, accepting the tray and moving towards the door.

"Thanks, Ez," the ladies man said and turned back to the injured man. "How's the back feeling, Vin?"

"...little sore...Chris outta jail yet?" he winced as he shifted his legs over the edge of the bed. As his body unwound, a tight coil inside heated up. His heart began to hammer and he felt dizzy. One face formed in his mind and his eyes darted. Something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what it was. Somehow he knew it had to do with the blond and he needed to get to him before it was too late.

"Not sure. Figured I'd go check on him as soon as Ezra comes back."

"Goin with ya..."

"Vin..."

"Somethin's wrong, Buck. Need ta see him..." the tracker hissed as he used his hands to push his body upwards. Gripping the bedpost in a deathgrip, panting heavily from the effort and feeling needles of pain in his back, he glared at the rogue. "Ya best...move aside...Bucklin...don't wanna hurt ya..."

Wilmington couldn't help but smile at what he was seeing, the blue fire shone in the eyes, evidence that he wouldn't quit. Tanner's determination was something to behold as the younger man fought to stay on his feet. That he was able to do so, despite the trembling legs revealed just how strong he felt about his friendship with the gunslinger. He reached out and eased the tracker back down on the bed, wincing in sympathy at Tanner's stiff movements. Yet he understood the need to go to their mutual friend before it was too late.

"Yeah... all right, Vin. We go, but we do it my way. Wait for Ezra to come back..."

"I'm right here," the conman said from the door. His own worries were surfacing after a sleepless night.

"Good, Vin's bustin' out...headin' to the jail. You best watch out, he's hell bent on fury to get there."

"Is that wise?" The gambler's green eyes narrowed at the hunched Texan who could barely stand.

"Probably not, but I'm not willin' to take my life in my hands. Right, Vin." The ladies man smirked.

Ezra's keen gaze went from one man to the other and he smiled knowingly as he moved to help the scoundrel.

"Point taken," he said as they eased the tracker to his feet.

---

Thompson left his gun on the desk and moved to the second cell. He unlocked the door and moved to the second bed. A sickly cloying smell struck him as soon as he got within a few feet of the cot.

"Jesus," he hissed as he saw the eyes open and staring at the back wall. He looked towards the second man and frowned when he realized Larabee was still unmoving. He knew something was wrong as he moved closer to the dead man and saw the look of horror on the face.

"What's wrong, Hank?" O'Malley asked as he hurried into the jail.

"I think Clark's dead," the lawman explained as Jamie stood just inside the door, his face paling considerably as he looked into the cell. He knew the young man was going to lose it and was glad when he turned and hurried outside.

---

Vin held his breath as each step sent a shiver of pain through his back, but he wouldn't let it stop him. One of the nightmares he remembered had to do with Chris being held entranced by a crow. Somehow he knew that crow had visited him sometime during the night as well. They made slow but steady progress down the street towards the jail.

"Something's wrong," Standish observed when a young man exited the structure and moved to the side. The sound of vomiting was clear in the morning sunshine and without realizing they picked up the pace.

---

O'Malley held his breath as he moved into the cell. One look at the bulging eyes and discolored face was all he needed to confirm that James Clark was dead. The look on the murderer's face was one of terror and he looked up as three men entered the jail.

"Stay outside!" the doctor ordered, yet wasn't surprised when the three men ignored him.

"C...Chris..." Tanner hissed, fearing the worst. Moving too quickly, his lower back exploded in pain and his knees buckled.

"Dammit Vin!" Buck grabbed him as his legs gave way and ignored the feeble protest.

"Doc, 'spect ya should take a look at Larabee," the sheriff said as Tanner was lowered into the chair by his desk.

"What's wrong with 'im!" Vin demanded, trying to push against Wilmington's restraining hands.

"Vin if you don't calm down, I'm gonna nail that hide of yours to the chair!" Buck thundered, his eyes flashing. Then he trained them on the cell where his oldest friend lie unmoving.

O'Malley moved from one cell to the other and knelt beside the blond. He eased him onto his back and frowned as he saw the bloody wound on the man's arm. The bandage was on the floor beside the cot. He felt for a pulse and again frowned at how weak it was.

"Chris, can you hear me?"

"What kinda doctor are ya!" Vin protested, still fighting. "Get him t'wake up...the hell's wrong?"

"I'm not sure. His arm must've bled during the night and he seems to be in a deep sleep," he turned back to his patient and called the gunslinger's name once more.

"Move!" the tracker ordered, ignoring the odor that seemed to permeate the air around him.

"Vin..."

"Ya know I'm right..."

Buck took one look at the intense blue gaze peering up at him and sighed. He turned as Ezra made himself known.

"Let him up, Buck," Standish supported as he watched the physician trying to rouse the blond.

"Okay," he agreed, letting Ezra flank Vin's other side. Between the two of them, they got him on his feet and helped him walk.

The shooting discomfort in his back wasn't nearly as bad in light of his friend's plight. Vin shuffled across the floor, biting his lip to warn off the cry of pain that was ready to spill. They moved sideways into the cell and moved to the bed.

Thompson grabbed the chair from his desk and brought it into Larabee's cell. He sat it beside the bed and held it while the young man was carefully lowered onto it.

"Vin..." Wilmington pleaded softly, seeing the gray pallor of Larabee's skin.

"Lar'bee!" Vin hollered, tapping the slack pale face.

The new voice sounded weak, yet it held a strength that he couldn't deny. He struggled against the crimson eyes and tried to turn his head.

"Come on, Chris, wake up!" the tracker drawled, the words heavily accented with worry. He gripped the jaw hard and shook the slack head.

The trapped gunslinger tried to breathe as he fought the hypnotic eyes glaring at him from out of the darkness. The voice continued to speak and he knew as long as he heard it he could break the trance.

"...no..." he whispered, yet it sounded loud to the three men beside his bed.

"Chris!" Wilmington bent over, tapping the black pant leg. "Rise and shine, Pard!"

"Mr. Larabee, you are not to run out on us!" hissed from between Standish's clenched teeth as the eyes began to move behind closed lids.

"That's it..." Vin sighed, moving his hand on the side of the blond's neck. The words were barely past his lips as Larabee's chest rose as his lungs expanded with the deep breath of air he inhaled.

Chris felt the weakness ebbing away with the touch of the hand on his skin. The feel of the warm fingers against his cold flesh caused his body to react instinctively. He sighed deeply as his eyes opened, knowing Tanner would be there. He smiled weakly at the strength he saw in he wondrous blue orbs above him.

"'ey, Cowboy," Vin managed, controlling his anxiety and moving his hand away.

Chris didn't want to release the hold and reached up to snag the retreating hand. He clamped weakly onto the appendage, clasping it in their own forearm grip. He didn't know how, but he knew Vin Tanner had pulled him from the shadowy depths of hell. His eyes remained locked with the tracker's for several seconds, before they closed once more.

"Good," O'Malley said as he felt the pulse grow stronger beneath his fingertips.

---

Miles away the crow neared the circle of corruption, its feather ruffled as a spark of evil lit up its eyes. He'd nearly had Larabee in his clutches, but the strength of his bond with the Texan was stronger than he'd originally believed. It had grown since the two men had joined them and that angered him. Turning back to the circle below, he watched the sands shift and undulate as if waiting for his return. He knew he'd failed for now but when the Inn reformed, Chris Larabee would be brought to him. The mark was on his body and he would soon make the journey to hell. The small heart in his mouth held the newest soul and he felt the sands moving faster in expectation of what he'd brought them. The monstrous black bird opened its beak and the beating organ dropped towards the center of death. He felt its original owner scream in fear as it neared its destination and knew James Clark had joined his legion of demons.

---

"Doc?" Tanner's single word was filled with the pain and worry that sent tremors through his body.

"He's okay, Vin, but I want him outta here. Hank..."

"Go ahead, Doc. I was comin' to release him anyway," Thompson explained.

"Alright," O'Malley said, turning to Wilmington and Standish. "I'm gonna need you two to carry him to Molly's place. Hank, think you can help us out here?"

"What do ya need?" the lawman asked as he watched Larabee move on the cot.

"Well, it's plain to see these two can't walk to Molly's on their own. Buck and Ezra can handle Chris, guess that leaves you and me to take care of Vin..."

The tracker's gaze lifted from the blond and looked at the physician seated on the edge.

"I..."

"Don't say it, Vin. You need help getting back there," Wilmington interrupted.

"Wasn't gonna say that. Was jest gonna..."

"Never mind, Mr. Tanner," Standish whispered next to his ear. "You're lacking the poker face to pull it off."

The sharpshooter knew the other man was right as Wilmington and Standish eased the semi-conscious gunslinger off the bed. He watched as they struggled with his weight until they were sure they wouldn't lose the grip they had on him.

"All right, Vin, let's get you out of here," Thompson suggested as O'Malley grabbed he right side and he took the left. He ignored the low moan that escaped the younger man's throat as he was gently pulled to his feet.

Vin clenched his eyes tightly as they walked out of the cell and across the short distance to the door. Once outside he breathed in the fresh air, sighing as it pushed away the sickly odor of death that seemed to prevail in the tiny jail. Step by step they made their way down the street towards the boarding house. The sharp blue eyes were locked on the man being helped along in front of him.

Larabee's head seemed to rest forward on his chest and Vin realized he was either unconscious or exhausted. He continued to watch until they made it to the house, not surprised to see Molly holding the door for them.

Through a lot of tricky twists and maneuvers the four men soon had Larabee and Tanner resting in their beds. The blond still hadn't roused completely, but his eyes flickered for a second, coming to rest on the man in the other bed.

"Vin," he muttered before giving in to his body's need for sleep. A need to forget what he'd seen during the night spent in jail.

"He's gonna be fine, Vin. You need something to help with the pain?" O'Malley asked.

"N...no. Just need to re...rest," the tracker said and closed his eyes.

Buck and Ezra exchanged glances before looking at the doctor for answers.

"Doc, how are they?" the scoundrel asked.

"They'll both be fine. Vin needs to relax and let the injury to his back heal. Aside form that puncture wound on Chris' arm I don't see anything wrong. I think he's just plain exhausted and needs to sleep. He's been worried about Vin and not really letting himself rest."

"That certainly sounds like Mr. Larabee," Standish said softly, not wanting to wake either man.

"Well, they both seem to be sleeping right now, so why don't we leave them to it?" O'Malley suggested and stood away from the bed. He held the door until the others were outside and eased it shut behind him, missing the soft trembling plea that issued from Larabee's slack lips.

"Help Us!"

---

William Spencer finished reading the notes from the trial of the day before. There was something about the defense attorney he didn't like and he was going to check into the man's credentials once this trial was over. He regretted sentencing Chris Larabee to a night in jail, but it was necessary that he keep a tight rein on the proceedings. He sighed heavily and reached for the cup of coffee on the desktop. He took a small mouthful, wincing when he discovered the liquid had grown cold and bitter. The trial was supposed to reconvene that morning, but he'd felt unwell and asked the sheriff to inform the others that it would start at one in the afternoon. Pushing away from the reminder of the trial he stood up and made his way to the window just as a knock sounded on the door.

"Come," he called and wasn't surprised to see the sheriff standing there.

"Something wrong, Hank?"

"Ya might say that, Bill. Clark's dead..."

"What? How?" the judge asked as he moved towards the door.

"Doc's over there checking now."

"What about Larabee?"

"He's okay. Had a little trouble waking him, but we managed to get him back to Molly's place. Him and Tanner are sleeping right now. Doc says that's what's best for both of 'em."

"Did the girl's grandparents get here?"

"Yeah, they're with her at the boarding house."

"At least the child won't need to be subjected to a courtroom."

"Yeah, ain't no kid deserves that, especially after what she's already been through. So maybe it's a Godsend that Clark is dead."

"Yes, maybe it is."

"How are you feeling, Bill?" the sheriff asked, knowing how ill the older man had looked earlier.

"Actually, I'm feeling perfectly fine. Strange how it came and went so quickly."

"You had me worried there for a while. Never seen you lookin' so green before."

"Must've been something I ate yesterday."

"Yeah...yeah, sure it was," the lawman said as they left the room to check on the dead man.

---

O'Malley shook his head as he finished checking the dead man. The cloth covering his mouth and nose did little to filter out the smell of death. Except for the usual signs that showed up on a dead body there were no marks, no bruises, nothing to tell him the cause of death. Nothing, except the expression on the man's face. The sunken, sightless eyes, set in skeletal like features, as if the man had been scared to death. The jaw were clenched tightly, the upper teeth protruding over the bottom lip, a light dusting of blood at their tips. Something had scared this man, something far beyond his own minds comprehension of terror. He'd tried to close the eyes, but had been unable to do so and covered them with coins. The problem was the eyes were so far back in the man's skull that the coins sank deep into the depressions. He'd finally given up and simply covered the man's face with a towel. A small shudder ran through him as he looked around the empty cell. What was it about this small, simple jail that could scare a man so badly he'd bite his lip in death?

He looked up as the door opened and felt a sense of relief chase back the chill that was slowly seeping through his body. He stood up and reached for the basin of water to clean his hands. He scooped up handful after handful in an effort to wash away the fear he knew would be written on his face. Finally able to push the feelings away he turned to the newcomers.

"Hank, Judge," he greeted, glad there was no hint of fear in his voice.

"Find anything, Doc?" Thompson asked.

"Nothing that could explain how or why this man died. Unless you believe a man can be scared to death," O'Malley answered.

"Scared to death?" Spencer asked doubtfully.

"Yeah... Look, Judge, there's no marks on his body, except the ones he had in the fight with Tanner, but those are old and faded now. There's no way they caused him to die."

"Poison maybe?" Thompson asked.

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Just a feeling. Look, this man died of fear..."

"Doc..."

"I'm serious, Hank. Did you get a real good look at his face?" O'Malley asked.

"No...not really. I just knew he was dead," the lawman answered.

"Well, take a look and tell me if you still think I'm wrong!" the physician snapped and pulled the cloth from the hideous face. He heard both men gasp and knew they'd been unprepared for Clark's appearance and he quickly covered the evidence again.

"What the hell could've scared him that much?" Spencer asked.

"I don't know and he's certainly not talking!" the doctor answered.

"Maybe Larabee has an idea," Thompson suggested.

"Maybe, but if he did see anything wouldn't he have called for help?" the judge asked.

"Not if he couldn't," O'Malley said, unsure of what he was getting at.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the lawman snapped.

"I don't know, Hank. Look we won't know anything until we talk to Larabee," the healer told him.

"I'd suggest we do that right now," Spencer ordered.

"It's not that simple, Judge," the doctor told him as he reached for the wet cloth once more.

"Why not?" the older man asked.

The physician wrung his hands in the cloth as he tried to control his emotions. So many unexplained things had happened over the last week, including the strange puncture wound on the gunslinger's arm, and he didn't have the answers. For a brief instant he wondered if he was better off without them. Finally he threw down the towel and looked at the other men in the room as he answered honestly.

"Because Larabee hasn't really been awake since this happened. He opened his eyes for a few seconds here and again when we put him in his bed, but he hasn't moved since."

"Are you saying whatever happened to Clark knocked Larabee out?" Spencer asked.

"I'm not sure, but something caused him to sleep through all of this and to remain in that state when we moved him back to Molly's."

"Do you have any idea how long it'll be before we can talk to Larabee?" Thompson asked.

"I'd like an answer to that as well. Perhaps we should be looking at charges of murder against him," the judge said.

"How?" Thompson asked. "There's no way in hell Larabee could've gotten from his cell into this one. Both doors were locked and I had the keys!"

"Wouldn't matter if Larabee used something to scare Clark to death," Spencer said.

"I don't think so, Judge. Chris Larabee's no murderer, at least not in this case!" O'Malley hissed.

"What makes you so sure?" the older man asked.

"Because no man could scare another man this badly!" the doctor said, pulling back the cloth to make his point. He knew he'd made his point when the two men with him turned away and walked out the door. He quickly followed them, hoping to escape the sickly odor of the corpse.

"Doc, are you finished with him?" the sheriff asked.

"Yeah, you can get the body out of there whenever you want."

"Okay, I'm going to round up a few men to bury him," Thompson explained.

"Has anyone told the child's grandparents about this?" Spencer asked

"I...no, I don't think so. They weren't there when we brought Chris and Vin in. Molly said Mindy was taking them for a walk to show them where she picked flowers and berries," the lawman explained.

"Mindy is staying with Molly right now, Judge. Maybe Molly can keep her busy while you talk with Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence," O'Malley suggested as the sheriff left them alone.

"I'd also like to speak with Larabee when he wakes up. Any idea how long that'll be?"

"Are you still considering him as a suspect?"

"Not really, but maybe he heard something. He's the only one who was there when Clark died."

"Yeah...yeah, he was. You know, Judge, there's something else that bothers me about this whole thing," the doctor said, lifting his right hand and running his fingers through his short hair.

"What? And please don't tell me it's something else that can't be explained."

"What bothers me is that Clark was dead for some time, yet Jamie didn't notice anything strange."

"Clark was turned away from him...facing the wall."

"Yes, he was, but the smell should've been enough to tell him something was wrong. A dead body has a very distinct smell, especially in this heat."

"Maybe he just didn't recognize it for what it was. He's not that old," Spencer tried, his voice soft as he tried to come up with a reasonable explanation.

"That doesn't explain why Hank didn't notice it. He's been around dead bodies long enough to recognize..."

"Maybe he wasn't at the jail this morning," the older man said doubtfully.

"Yes, he was. He told me himself he was there. Said Jamie came in when the stage arrived and stayed while he went to see Mindy's grandparents. I just can't see him missing the fact that there was a dead body in one of his cells."

"There's got to be an explanation," the judge said, his voice lacking conviction.

"Well, if you come up with one let me know. Come on, I might as well go with you and check on my two patients," O'Malley said and the two men strode towards the boarding house.

---

Buck opened the door and looked in on the sleeping peacekeepers. He knew they both needed rest, yet his worry for them kept him checking. He smiled as he saw the almost twin looks on both faces. Vin lay on his right side, facing Chris, who lay on his left side. Wilmington was always shocked by how innocent grown men could look in sleep. The pain, weariness, and any sign soft age were gone, pushed away by the hands of nature as she stepped in and allowed them to sleep without pain. He turned away and closed the door, smiling at the woman who watched him.

"Hi, Darlin'," he greeted her with a trademark smile.

"Hi, Buck, how are they?"

"Still sleepin'."

"Good, they both need it. Would you like some pie?"

"Apple?"

"Peach."

"Sounds good to..." He stopped when a soft knock sounded on the door. He watched as the woman moved to answer it, relieved to see the doctor and the judge.

"Afternoon, Jack, Judge, please come in," the woman said, holding the door pen for the two men.

"Thank you, Molly, have the Lawrences returned yet?" O'Malley asked.

"No, I'm expecting them soon though. Mindy wants to help ice the cake she made for Chris," she explained.

"Is Mr. Larabee awake?" Spencer asked.

"No, I just checked and him and Vin are both sleeping. Ain't gonna let ya wake 'em, Judge. They both need this," the scoundrel hissed, his tone slightly menacing.

"That's fine, Mr. Wilmington, but we will need to speak with him as soon as he wakes up," the older man told him.

"Why don't we go into the kitchen and I'll make fresh coffee?" Molly asked feeling the tension between the two men.

"Sounds good, Molly," Thompson said as he took the woman's arm and lead the way into the kitchen.

"I can't stay, Molly. I'll just look in on my patients before I leave."

"Okay, Jack, I'll save you a piece of pie," the woman said.

"Thank, I'd appreciate it," O'Malley said and moved to the room at the end of the hall.

---

Rupert and Jeanie Lawrence watched as their grandchild picked the wildflowers that grew in abundance at the outskirts of town.

"She's so much like Frannie," the woman said as her husband reached for her.

"Yes, she is, and if I know you she'll be loved just as much," Rupert said, lovingly wiping away the tears threatening to fall from his wife's eyes.

Jeannie looked at her husband and smiled knowingly.

"Are you saying you didn't spoil her?"

"No, I'd be lying if I did."

"Grandpa, Nana, look at all the flowers I picked!" Mindy called as she ran to the older couple.

"Those are beautiful, Honey," Rupert said, bending down and easily picking the slight girl up in his arms.

"I picked 'em for Chris and Vin. Think they'll like 'em?"

"They'll love them, Mindy," Jeannie assured her.

"Can we go back now so's I can put them in water?"

"Sure, I believe there's a cake back there that needs someone to ice it," Rupert said.

"Me and Molly are gonna do that...but will you help too, Nana?"

"I'd love to Sweetheart," the woman said, leaning towards her grand daughter conspiratorially. "I'm sure your grandpa will help eat it too."

"Will you, Grandpa?" the child asked excitedly.

"Sure will...think there'll be a piece for your old grandpa?"

"You're not old, Grandpa," Mindy said as they walked towards the boarding house.

"Well thank you, Mindy, but there's not too many around who'd agree with you on that."

"Rupert, to me and Mindy you'll always be young. Right, Honey?"

"Right, Nana," she said wrapping her small arms around her grandfather's neck and kissing his cheek. She held him tight, needing the now familiar warmth she felt when they were with her.

---

Vin opened his eyes and looked at the man in the other bed. Larabee seemed to be on the verge of waking, but the sharpshooter remained silent, waiting to see if the blond would finally open his eyes and look his way.

Chris shifted on the bed, his eyes furrowing as he struggled to wake. His body felt laden down as he moved and for a minute he thought he was back to the dark time in his life. A time when a bottle and hangover went hand in hand. When he lived to drown his memories in amber liquid and cheap women. He frowned as he tried to remember what was real and what wasn't. His eyes finally opened totally, adjusting to the light admitted by the partially open curtains.

"'ey, Cowboy."

The soft voice from the next bed brought relief from his troubled thoughts. He realized the dark times were truly behind him and his life had changed for the better. He shifted on the bed until he was sitting up and tried to remember what had happened and where he was. The last thing he remembered was being sentenced to a night in jail. A dull pounding began in his skull as he tried to remember what happened between the time Thompson put him in the cell and his waking up at Molly's. He waited for the room to stop spinning before swinging his long legs over the side of the bed and looked across at the tracker.

"Vin, you okay?"

"Fine...you?"

"Think so. How'd I get here?"

"Buck and Ezra brought ya."

"Buck and Ezra? Damn, can't seem to remember."

"Chris," the tracker edged onto his side, ignoring the dull ache in his back.

"What?" Larabee asked, rubbing at his temples. Before Tanner could answer the door opened and Ezra Standish looked in.

"Well, good afternoon, Gentlemen," he said.

"Afternoon?" Larabee asked.

"Two thirty to be more precise," the gambler said.

"Two thirty, Dammit, what about the trial?" the blond hissed, standing on shaky legs.

"Ain't no need of a trial," the Texan said as Wilmington stepped into the room.

"Chris, Vin, the judge and sheriff are in the kitchen. They want to talk to both of you," the ladies man supplied.

"Why? What's going on?" Larabee asked confusedly.

"They'll tell ya," the scoundrel answered worried about his friends.

"Something wrong with Mindy?" the blond asked.

"Mindy's fine, Chris, she's with her grandparents," the conman told him.

"Grandparents? They got here?" the gunslinger asked.

"Sure did, Pard. They got here this morning. They've been spending lots of time with her, and she seems happy they're here," Wilmington explained.

"She's okay?" Larabee's voice echoed the concern evident in his eyes.

"I assure you the child is fine. Now the question that concerns me is whether you two can join us in the kitchen or should I tell Judge Spencer and Sheriff Thompson to come back here?" Standish asked.

Larabee looked at the young man in the other bed and moved to help him stand.

"Guess we're coming out there," he answered.

"Chris, Let me and Ez take care of Vin. You go on out," Wilmington ordered as he eased the gunslinger out of the way.

Chris nodded and walked out the door, a smile quickly formed as the outer door opened and a woman held the door for an older man carrying Mindy. The child's eyes lit up as she saw him and she quickly released her grandfather's hand.

"Chris!" she shouted and ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

The gunslinger welcomed the embrace and touched her hair. He winked and then smiled at the child, relieved to see her eyes didn't hold the same underlying sadness he'd been seeing.

"Hi, Mindy, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing real good, Chris and you were right!"

"I was," Larabee asked as he watched the two newcomers.

"Yes, Chris, you said my Grandpa and my Nana would come for me and they did. Just like you said they would and they want me to go to St. Louis with them and we'll go on a stagecoach and a train. A big train, Chris..."

"Easy, Molly, let Mr. Larabee catch his breath," Jeannie said, smiling at the man her grandchild seemed to hold dear.

"It's okay, Ma'am," the blond assured her as Buck, Ezra, and Vin exited the room. Larabee was surprised to see the tracker moving on his own, albeit stiffly. The three men left them alone in the hallway and entered the kitchen. Chris could hear them talking to the sheriff and was grateful for the time they were giving him, knowing he'd want to speak with Mindy's family and put his own mind at ease.

"Mr. Larabee, I'm Rupert, Lawrence and this is my wife Jeannie. We're indebted to you and Mr. Tanner for what you've done for Mindy."

"Mindy's been helpin' out," Larabee told her.

"Is that right?" Jeannie asked.

"Sure is, she makes the best cookies," Larabee said, and smiled as Mindy giggled.

"I picked some flowers for you, Chris," the girl said and lowered her voice. "I made a cake for you but it needs chocolate icing first."

"Come on, Mindy, why don't we see about getting some water for those flowers and then we'll check with Molly about that cake."

"Okay, Nana," the girl said and turned to Chris. She smiled and pecked him on the cheek before running into the kitchen.

Larabee turned to the couple standing in the hall with him and knew they would be good for Mindy Lawrence.

"She's a good kid," he said simply.

"Yes, she is, and we'll take good care of her, Mr. Larabee," Jeannie assured him.

"I know. Just make sure she's happy," the blond said, as Molly and Mindy returned.

"Mrs. Lawrence, Mindy and I need to get some sugar for the icing. Would you come with us to the general store?" the boarding house owner asked, hoping the woman would understand the need to get the child out of the house.

"I'd love to, Mrs. Richmond," Jeannie answered as Mindy took her hand and walked towards the door.

"Molly said I can get a piece of candy if it's okay with you, Nana. Is it?"

Larabee smiled at the excitement in the child's voice before turning towards the kitchen door where Wilmington stood watching him. Before the women left he heard Jeannie's assurance that she'd buy Mindy the candy herself.

"You okay, Chris?"

"Yep," the blond answered, passing his friend as he entered the kitchen. Vin was seated on one side of the table, the chair next to him empty. Spencer and Thompson sat on the opposite side, while Wilmington, Lawrence, and Standish moved to stand at the far wall.

"Mr. Larabee, would you sit down please?" Spencer suggested, waiting while Larabee slipped into the chair beside Tanner.

"What's going on?" the blond asked.

"We were hoping you could tell us, Chris," Thompson told him.

"Tell you what?"

"Chris," Tanner's soft drawl caught the gunslinger's attention.

"What's going on, Vin?"

"Clark died last night," the sharpshooter answered.

"What? How?" the blond asked.

"That's what we were hoping you could tell us, Mr. Larabee," the judge said, his instincts telling him Larabee had nothing to do with the other man's death and that his confusion was very real.

"I d...don't..." He unconsciously rubbed his right hand against the burning sensation in his left arm. And tried to remember what happened.

"Chris?" Wilmington asked.

"I...Last thing I remember is Hank taking me to the jail," Larabee told them, confusion easy to read on his face.

"That was yesterday, Chris. We brought you back here this morning when we discovered Clark's body," Thompson explained.

"How did he die?" the gunslinger asked.

"According to Dr. O'Malley he was literally scared to death," Standish answered.

"What? That's impossible!" the blond hissed, the burning in his arm growing more pronounced. "Maybe he had a nightmare...maybe his guilt got the best of him...could be a heart attack?"

"Chris, what's wrong?" the sharpshooter asked.

"Damn arm," Larabee winced painfully.

"Let me take a look," Tanner said.

"It'll keep," the older man said, again trying to find the elusive memories. He knew something had happened during the night, that he'd seen something beyond his own comprehension and wondered if his mind had chosen to forget them. A slight shiver raced through his body as he met the sharpshooter's eyes.

"I saw him, Chris, the terror on his face was like something I've never seen before," Thompson explained.

"Never heard of a man being scared to death," Larabee said softly.

"Stranger things have happened, Mr. Larabee," Standish supplied as he brought over two glasses of water and placed them before his two friends.

"You really don't remember seeing or hearing anything, Mr. Larabee?" the judge asked.

"N...no, nothing," the blond said, turning away. He could feel Tanner watching him and knew the younger man was reading him like an open book. He turned to meet the steady gaze and shook his head imperceptibly before turning back to the judge.

"Has anyone talked to Clark's lawyer?" Tanner asked. Something about the way the judge and the sheriff squirmed in their seats told him they hadn't and his eyebrows furrowed dangerously.

Spencer looked at the lawman, frowning as he realized neither one of them had even spoken of Columber. Somehow the attorney had simply slipped their minds, yet he should have been one of the first people they spoke to, and he should be in on this meeting.

"Strange...I never even thought of him. I'll go see if he's still at the hotel," Thompson told them.

"Columber wasn't staying at the hotel," Spencer said, a slight tremor in his voice.

"He had to be. I mean it's either the hotel or Molly's. Ain't nowhere else he could've stayed," the lawman said wearily.

"Well, Tilly told me I'm the only guest they have right now," the older man assured him.

"That doesn't make sense," Thompson began.

"Nothing makes sense about this one," Spencer told them. "James Clark is dead and will be interred before long. I have a few things to take care of before I leave, but I'd like you to let me know if you remember anything, Mr. Larabee."

"I will," the gunslinger assured him.

"Thank you, Mr. Larabee. Hank, I need you to sign a few papers for me," Spencer said.

"Coming, Judge. Chris, Vin, take it easy. I'll stop by later to see if you've remembered anything."

Wilmington and Standish moved to the table and sat across from their friends, while Rupert Lawrence left the kitchen, affording them some time alone.

"One good thing comes with Clark's death," Larabee said softly.

"What's that?" Wilmington asked.

"Mindy's been saved having to testify," the blond answered.

"Yeah," the scoundrel agreed simply.

"Mr. Larabee, would you let me take a look at your malady?" Standish asked.

"Arm's okay, Ez," Larabee said as he sipped at the water.

The conman looked as if he didn't believe a word Larabee said, but let it go.

"At least Clark has paid for his heinous crime," Standish said, watching the two men who'd been through so much in the past few weeks.

"Didn't pay near enough," Tanner hissed.

"Maybe not, but there's nothing we can do about it now." Buck looked towards the door as he heard someone entering the hall. He smiled as Mindy Lawrence came running in.

"Hello, Darlin'," he said as she hurried into the room, a small bag in her hands.

"Hi, Buck, look what Nana bought for me. I got some for Vin too on counta he got a sweet tooth just like me. Don'tcha, Vin?"

"Sure do, Mindy," Tanner smiled warmly as she offered him a stick of candy. "My favorite too."

"Really?"

"Yep," the tracker answered as Molly and the Lawrences came into the room.

"Chris, you want one?" Mindy asked.

"No, thanks Mindy. Think I'd rather wait for a piece of that cake," Larabee answered, a weak grin on his face.

"Oh, okay," the girl said as she dropped the bag on the table and turned to her grandmother. "Can we ice the cake now, Nana?"

"Certainly, Mindy. Now why don't you gentlemen leave us women alone so we can get some things done. Mr. Larabee?" Jeannie called.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You're looking a little pale. Perhaps you should get some more rest."

"I'm fine, Ma'am. Just need a little air," Larabee told her as he stood up to follow the others outside. His eyes locked with the sharpshooter's and he knew Vin Tanner understood what he'd told them earlier. It remained to be seen whether this was really over or just the beginning of a new, deadlier nightmare, that would cross over into their world.

---

"Well, Doc?" Tanner hissed as the older man finished his examination.

"Things are looking better, Vin, but you need to remember it's only been a day since you collapsed in the courtroom."

"Feels better..."

"I know it does, but I'd still like you to take it easy..."

"All I been doing..."

"I know. Look I'm not saying you need to stay in bed. If anything I want you to try to move around, but take things slow. Pace yourself and listen when your body tells you it's time to rest. Take short walks around town, but make sure someone is with you."

"I'll see that he does," Larabee said from where he sat on the second bed.

Vin looked at his friend and frowned. He knew Larabee hadn't slept well and his instincts told him it had something to do with the time he'd spent in the jail. He knew Larabee was holding something inside and knew he wouldn't reveal anything unless he got him alone.

"Okay, Vin, let me help you sit up," the doctor said as the younger man eased onto his side. He wasn't surprised when the gunslinger moved to help him and they soon had the tracker sitting on the side of the bed.

"You okay?" Larabee asked worried about the tiny beads of sweat forming on the younger man's face.

"Yeah," the tracker told him simply.

"Good. Now, Chris, let me take a look at your arm," the doctor ordered, surprised when Larabee rolled up his sleeve and revealed the slightly bloody bandage. O'Malley removed the soiled material, frowning at what he uncovered. The area around the tiny wound was swollen and appeared to have been burned. The pattern of red surrounding it made a perfect circle, and he knew it needed to be drained again.

"I'm gonna need to clean this again, Chris. Just stay here and I'll get some water."

Larabee simply nodded as the physician left the room. He looked across the narrow space and saw the worry in the shaded blue eyes. He knew there was no point in telling the younger man he was okay, Tanner would see right through it. The two men remained silent as the doctor returned with a basin of warm water and set it on the bed beside the gunslinger.

O'Malley reached into his bag and pulled out the bottle of carbolic he kept there. He poured a fair amount of the liquid into the water, before replacing it in the bag. He took out a small probe and finally met Larabee's gaze.

"Chris, I'm going to clean this out and make sure there's nothing else going on in there. Do you want a little laudanum first?"

"No, I'm okay," the blond said, meeting the telling gaze from the tracker.

"Okay, just hold still," O'Malley ordered and slowly probed the wound. The pungent odor and pussy fluid worried him, but he continued to clean the infection as best he could. The fact that there were no streaks of red coming from the puncture was a good sign, yet this wound bothered him. Placing the probe on the bed he pressed at the wound until the pus cleared and blood oozed from the center.

"Sorry," he said as Larabee tried unsuccessfully to hide a groan.

"...okay..." the blond said, wincing again as the doctor dipped a cloth in the water and began cleaning the wound. Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the mounting nausea, and was shocked by the pictures flashing before his eyes.

"Chris?" Tanner hissed as he stood up and moved to sit beside the blond.

Larabee swallowed and opened his eyes to see the doctor placing a new bandage over the wound.

"You okay?" the tracker asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Larabee insisted as O'Malley finished with the wound.

"Chris, I want to check this again this afternoon, unless it starts getting worse. If that happens you come see me right away!" the doctor said, and smiled as the blond nodded and the tracker said he'd make sure Larabee came to see him. These two men had a friendship beyond his comprehension. What others said with words, these to said with gestures. He picked up the basin and left the room, feeling as if he were intruding on something private.

"Chris..."

"It's okay, Vin," Larabee said, hearing the worry in the way his friend said his name.

"Come on, you ready to go for a short walk?"

Tanner knew there was no point in pushing it, but he vowed to find out what was really going on with his friend.

"Yeah," the younger man said, forcing his body up off the bed. He made his way to the door, knowing Larabee was close behind him, his lightning like reflexes ready to catch him if needed.

---

Buck and Ezra watched as the two men walked along the path to the gate. They knew the tracker's back was better, but knew by the way he moved that it would be some time before he was completely healed.

"Ez, did you send the telegram to Four Corners?" the rogue asked, his gaze remained on the slowly moving figures as they moved into the street.

"I sent the missive this morning," Standish assured him, knowing the three men in Four Corners would be worried about Tanner's injury and the trial. He made sure the others knew they wouldn't be leaving until Dr. O'Malley said it was okay for the tracker to ride.

"Thanks, Ez."

"Nothing to thank me for, Buck. Do you think Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner are truly okay?"

"I don't know...something about this whole thing with Columber bothers me..."

"Well the man seems to have simply disappeared without a trace. Sheriff Thompson has been unable to find anything that shows the man was here at all," the conman said wearily.

"Yeah, well, I'll be glad when we can head for home."

"I agree wholeheartedly," the gambler told him, moving towards the gate in order to keep the two men in sight.

---

"Need a break?" Larabee asked as Tanner's small strides faltered.

"Y...yeah," the tracker admitted as they neared a small bench at the edge of town. They covered the remaining distance and both men sat down. Neither man spoke for some time, content just to watch what was going on around them.

"Ya ready ta talk 'bout it?" the sharpshooter asked, not bothering to look at his friend.

"'bout what?" Larabee asked, refusing to acknowledge what he thought was just a dream.

"'bout what happened ta Clark."

"Don't know what happened..."

"Ya saw somethin', Chris...ain't no doubt..."

"Didn't see nothin'," Larabee hissed, rubbing at the wound in his arm without realizing it.

Tanner heard the slight edge in Larabee's voice, yet he knew the other man needed to talk about what was bothering him. He also new the blond could be stubborn when he set his mind to something.

"Chris, ya ferget I can tell when somethin's eatin' atcha..."

"Not forgetting..."

"Larabee, I know ya. Ya cain't tell me yer not afraid..."

The blond stood up, and turned to his friend, fury smouldering in the green eyes at being so easily read.

"I'm..."

"Ya seen somethin' that scared ya, pard..."

Chris turned away, breathing heavy, his fist raised as if to strike at something and he knew Tanner was right. The dreams, if that what they were, scared him, deep down, where he hid his secret fears, yet the tracker had seen it for what it was, and was calling him on it.

Vin watched the warring emotions on the blond's face before the older man turned away. He knew Larabee had been ready to strike him, and sensed that the taut body was still in turmoil.

"What'd ya see, Chris?"

The gunslinger took a deep breath and sank back onto the bench, his eyes on the ground at his feet. He felt the tracker watching him, silently waiting for him to tell him what he'd seen, or dreamt, he didn't know what was real, what was nightmare. He lifted his gaze and met the strength in the blue-eyed Texan, rubbing at his temples as he felt a headache forming just behind his eyes.

"What'd ya see, Chris?" tanner repeated when the blond remained silent. He watched the gunslinger's throat work as he finally began to speak.

"You won't believe me, Vin."

"Ya fergitin' I grew up with the Indians...saw some things ya wouldn't believe...don't mean they weren't real."

Larabee smiled weakly as he heard the soft words and knew this man had indeed seen many things during his hard life. He nodded his head and looked down the street, aware of nothing but the man beside him and the tale he was about to disclose. He closed his eyes and began to speak.

"Thought I was awake...but...couldn't have been...Clark...he seemed to change...looked like a rat....no a mouse," the gunslinger corrected, his closed eyes preventing him from seeing the worry on the face of his friend.

"Go on," the tracker prodded gently.

"A crow," Larabee moaned softly. "It tore at Clark's chest...t...took his...heart...killed him..."

Tanner remained silent, watching as a slight tremor ran down the length of Larabee's body. He knew there was more and waited patiently for the blond to continue.

"...came into my cage...cell...damn thing...thing held...Clark's heart...told me to open my mouth...w...wouldn't...couldn't...wanted m...me to eat it...I couldn't...can't...I won't...do it." His body trembled as the air around him grew cold and he forced his eyes open.

"Easy, Chris," Tanner placed a calming hand on his friend's shoulder, and was rewarded when the green gaze turned towards him.

"It seemed so real, Vin..."

"I know, Chris, but whatever it was it's over..."

"You really believe that?" Larabee asked and saw the answer in the blue orbs. Something was coming, what it was and where it would lead, he didn't know, but this man would be by his side through all of it. He was never so sure about anything in his life.

"You ready to get back?" the blond asked.

"Yeah...looks like Buck and Ezra are headin' this way." Tanner stood up and watched as Larabee did the same. The lean gunslinger moved slowly and Vin hoped they could leave this all behind them and head for home before things got worse.

---

The red eyes glowed fiercely as the crow perched on the tree overlooking the bench. It knew the bond between these two was stronger than it originally thought, but it wasn't gonna let something as simple as faith take what belonged to it. It watched the two figures as they met up with two more and waited for them to move beyond its sight. When this happened the wings spread wide and it lifted off. It flew towards its home in the desert, to wait for the Inn's reconstruction, and the return of the soul that was destined to belong to him.

Chris stood at the end of the porch, sighing as he watched the dying rays of the sun. Two long days had come and gone since the trial and he was alone with his thoughts. Something about the encroaching darkness bothered him, yet he knew there was nothing there, except what was in his dreams. His nightmares. Only one other man knew about them and something told him Vin was living his own version of hell once he gave in to his need for sleep.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cheroot and a match. He flicked the match and touched it to the tobacco filled paper and felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He understood the feeling stemmed from the weariness seeping into his body and he knew the only way to be rid of it was to sleep.

Chris remembered the conversation with Thompson and Spencer after the failed attempt to find C.F. Columber. There was no evidence that the man had even been in town, except their own visual sightings of him. According to the people they'd spoken with Columber wasn't staying in town or anywhere in the surrounding area. The liveryman told them the man didn't board a horse there and they couldn't find anyone who'd supplied the attorney with his meals. Larabee shivered as he thought of the red eyes of the crow in his nightmares. Something about them reminded him of Columber, but he couldn't put a finger on what it was. He shook his head to clear the image of the struggling mouse and turned his attention back to the darkening street in front of the house.

The Lawrences would be leaving in the morning, taking Mindy with them. He knew he'd miss the little girl who'd wound her way into his heart, but understood Rupert and Jeannie's need to get her home. His instincts told him they loved the girl and would be good for her, and he thanked God the child would not be subjected to an orphanage. He knew what those could be like, although he'd never experienced one himself.

The sun dipped below the horizon, taking with it the last vestiges of safety. In its wake was a sense of fear, so foreign to this man that it sent icy fingers dancing down his spine. He sucked deeply on the cheroot as he looked out over the town, unaware of the man watching him from the window.

---

Vin ignored the dull ache at the bottom of his spine as he watched the older man. His own nightmares were just elusive memories now, but something told him they were a warning of something yet to come. He'd lived with the Indians and learned their ways. The spirit world was an integral part of their beliefs, yet here, in his world, few believed it. For most, evil was something in people's hearts, not something that stalked the nights, invading people's dreams, turning them into nightmares. He looked past Larabee, seeing more than the day coming to an end, feeling helpless to stop what was to come. Knowing Larabee was safe for now he turned back to his bed and slowly sank into its waiting comfort. Sleep would not come easy, but when it did a single haunting caw echoed through his dreams.

---

Chris finished the cheroot and dropped it, squishing the soft tobacco with his booted heel, before turning back to the house. He saw a shadow turn from the window and realized the tracker had been watching him. It didn't feel like the younger man was invading his privacy, and Larabee understood his concern. Taking a last look around the streets he moved towards the door, freezing as he heard the now familiar plea that haunted his sleeping and waking mind.

Help us!

I wish the hell I knew how! he thought as his feet finally obeyed his command and he hurried inside, before the chill he felt grew any worse.

---

JD hurried towards the saloon, a piece of paper clamped tightly in his fingers. He knew Nathan and Josiah were already inside and pushed open the batwing doors. He spotted them immediately and strode towards the table, a smile on his face as he sat down.

"Alright, JD, what is it?" Jackson asked.

"Got a message from Ezra. The trial is over and they'll be coming home as soon as the doctor gives Vin the okay," Dunne explained, handing the telegram to the healer. He didn't miss the look on Sanchez' face and wondered what would make the older man look so worried.

"Knowing Vin he'll be chomping at the bit to come home," the former slave said.

"I'll be glad when our four brothers are back home where they belong," the ex-preacher said, a distant look in his blue eyes.

"Josiah, you still worried about seeing those crows of yours?" Jackson asked.

"The crows don't lie, Nathan," the older man whispered softly.

"That's what you said at the Seminole village, but they were wrong then," the healer said.

"That's right...you didn't die!" the young Bostonian readily agreed.

"Maybe not, son, but many others did," Sanchez said, standing up and moving out into the street. He missed the worried look that passed between the two men he left seated in the saloon. Josiah turned towards the north and felt the call of an evil he'd known only once before. One that could tear a man's soul from his chest and leave nothing but an empty shell. He couldn't quite remember the details, but he knew it had to be defeated before it spread horror throughout the land and turned light to dark. He knew when the time came they'd have to move quickly, but until then they'd have to wait and hope their arrival would be in time. Seven was their number and in that number was their salvation, of that he was sure. Yet he had no idea why this was so. Taking a deep breath he turned towards the small church he was rebuilding and made his way down the street, needing the warmth that came from reading the scriptures on the tattered pages of his bible.

---

It was ten a.m. the following morning and the stage was being readied for the trip north. Mindy's possessions were stacked on top along with her Grandparent's luggage. The sheriff handed a small bag to the driver after explaining that it belonged to Mindy's aunt.

Chris sat outside the hotel, watching the little girl as she said goodbye to Vin, Buck, and Ezra.

"I'm gonna miss you, Darlin'," Wilmington said as he bent down and embraced the child. He felt her kiss his cheek and returned the gesture before releasing her.

Mindy looked at the man dressed in the fancy red coat and smiled as he reached out to take her hand in his. She giggled as he touch he lifted hers to his mouth and kissed it as he bowed at the waist.

"Little lady, it has been a pleasure to make the acquaintance of someone as charming as yourself. St. Louis will reap the rewards of your presence," the gambler said, smiling as the child continued to giggle before she moved away.

Her attention turned to the two men seated on the bench outside the hotel and she felt her heart beat faster as she moved to the tracker. She wanted to hug him, but hesitated because she knew he was hurt.

Vin saw the hesitation and despite the discomfort reached out and pulled her to him. Normally he was a private man, one who kept his emotions in check. In this instance he felt the need to embrace the girl who'd been through so much since they found her in the wagon. Vin knew from his own past that Mindy would have nightmares about what she saw for years to come. He hoped and prayed her new family helped her to deal with it. He reached behind his back and took the small wrapped package he'd placed there.

"Got somethin' fer ya," Tanner said as the child drew back and her eyes lit on the parcel in his hands.

"That's for me?" she asked, her eyes dancing brightly.

"Me and Chris thought ya might like it," he said as he handed her the present.

With a child's glee, Mindy tore the wrapper from the present and smiled at the leather bound journal and quill pen that went with it.

"It's a special place t'put yer thoughts 'n dreams in," the tracker said as she moved to hug him once more. He caught her chin and caught her eyes. "Sometimes, puttin' it on paper...gettin' out of yer chest...it helps."

"Thanks, Vin, thanks, Chris...Nana and grandpa can help me spell the big words," she said as tears came to her eyes.

The sharpshooter released his hold on her and watched as without another word she moved to the man beside him. He knew Mindy had latched on to Chris from the moment the man found her in the wagon. The fact that Chris was a father shone through in his treatment of her. He'd watched the two during the time they'd been in Farmington and wished he'd been given the chance to meet Sarah and Adam Larabee. To be blessed with the knowledge that only Buck Wilmington had first hand.

"I'm gonna miss you," Mindy sobbed as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Chris held her close and placed his hand in her hair. His eyes met the blue ones of the tracker and he sighed heavily. This child was leaving to start a new life, one where he prayed she'd find the love every child deserved. He felt the moisture in his own eyes but fought to keep them from showing as he eased her arms from around his neck. He smiled warmly as he began speaking.

"We both gotta be strong now, Mindy. Your Grandpa and Nana love you and they want you to live with them. I'm gonna miss you too, but I know you're gonna be just fine."

"Grandpa says he's got a big ranch and Nana says she's gonna teach me to sew and cook."

"That's great, Honey. You be good for them, okay?" Larabee told her, smiling as the older couple moved to join them.

"I will..."

"Promise?" the blond said softly.

"Promise."

"Mindy," Molly Richmond's voice called from the side of the stage and Chris could see she held something in her arms.

"You go see what Molly wants," Larabee said as she hugged him once more before running to the woman who'd helped care for her.

"Mr. Larabee, Mr. Tanner, we want you to know how much we appreciate what you've done for Mindy. If you hadn't come along she wouldn't be here with us now. We lost our son, daughter-in-law and daughter, but we still have something of them in her and for that we owe you more than we can ever hope to repay," Rupert Lawrence said.

"Rupert and I want you to know that Mindy will have the best life can offer her."

"All Mindy needs is to know you love her, Mrs, Lawrence," Larabee told the woman.

"We do, Mr. Larabee and we'll show her every minute of the day. Mindy's lost so much in her life, but she's not gonna lose either of us," Jeannie assured him.

"Tha's all she needs, Ma'am," Tanner said as he watched Mindy hugging the owner of the boarding house.

"You folks ready ta go?" the heavily whiskered stagecoach driver called from his perch on the seat.

"Mr. Larabee, Mr. Tanner, if you're ever around St. Louis please come by the farm. Just ask for the Lawrence spread and someone will point you in the right direction," Rupert told them.

"Just might take you up on that some day, Mr. Lawrence," Larabee said as Mindy stood by the side of the coach.

"Goodbye," Jeannie said, reaching out and hugging the blond gunslinger.

Chris was startled by the open show of gratitude and smiled as she did the same to the tracker. He shook hands with her husband before moving to the stage. He knew Mindy was nervous about getting on the stage, and he knelt before her. The fear was visible in the brown eyes and he knew she was close to bolting as her eyes darted from left to right.

"Mindy..."

"...scared, Chris..."

"There's nothing to be scared of, Mindy."

"What if he comes back?"

"He can't come back, Honey. He's never gonna hurt anyone again."

"But what if he does?"

"Do you love your grandfather?"

"Grandpa is big and strong..."

"Yes, he is," Larabee said, smiling as he saw the others stand back and let him talk with the little girl. "Do you think he's as strong as me or Vin?"

She looked towards the couple she was leaving with and sniffed in spite of the smile beginning to form on her face. She turned back to the gunslinger and nodded.

"He looks like papa, only papa's hair was all brown."

"And papa always took care of you and kept you safe?" Larabee asked softly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Papa and mama always took care of me, but they're gone now, and so is Aunt Frannie," the child said as the tears sparkled in her eyes.

"Where was your Aunt Frannie taking you?"

"To grandpa and nana. She said papa and mama wanted me to go there so's I could grow up to be like mama."

"So your ma and pa and your aunt wanted you to go to St. Louis and live on your grandparents' farm?"

"Hmm, hmm," she sniffed again as she watched the older couple moving towards her.

"You know the only way to get there is by the stagecoach?"

"I gotta get on there 'cause pa and ma would want me too?"

"Yes, Mindy, and you know what?" Larabee asked, smiling at the little girl.

"Wh...what?" she stammered as she turned to the open door of the stage.

"All it takes is for you to step inside and a new adventure is waiting for you."

"An adventure?"

"Sure, You'll see new places and meet new people. You'll get to try new things and make new friends. You'll get to go to a big school and learn how to read special books about far off places."

"I w...will?" she asked, excitement showing as she wiped the tears away.

"Sure will," Larabee told her as she threw her arms around his neck.

"Will you and Vin come see me?"

"I can't say for certain, Mindy, but maybe someday we'll get to take the same adventure you do and visit you in St. Louis. Until then maybe you can write us a letter and tell us all about your trip," Larabee said as she released her hold once more. He nodded as the couple came forward and took Mindy's hand.

"Nana, will you help me write Chris?"

"Of course," she said, and turned a grateful gaze in Larabee's direction.

"Thank you, all of you for what you've done for us," Rupert said as the second man held the door for them to enter.

Mindy turned to the stage and took a deep breath before letting her grandfather help her inside. She sat by the window and pushed back the small curtain.

Chris felt the tracker move to stand beside him as the family entered the stage. He knew Mindy Lawrence was going home, but a small part of him wondered what it would be like to be a father again. The driver's helper closed the door, climbed up in the seat, and the stage lurched ahead. Larabee waved goodbye to the young girl who'd lived through hell, yet was a shining example of the strength found in a child's heart.

"She'll be fine, Chris," Tanner said.

"Yeah...yeah, she will," Larabee said, certain that this was one child who would find herself loved unconditionally for the rest of her life. He watched as the stage finally disappeared, before turning back to his three friends. Without a word he nodded to the sharpshooter and smiled as the younger man understood the gesture.

"Where are you boys headin'?" Wilmington asked, laughing as the one word answer sounded from both men.

"Saloon!"

---

Miles to the south the red eyes of a single black crow lit up the circle of corruption that would soon be home to the newly risen Inn. The feeding frenzy had already started with the small tidbit it dropped into the writhing mass. The blood from the newly desiccated organ had succeeded in driving the waiting demon's into a feeding rage that would not be sated until new blood stained the dead black soil. It watched from high above as the area glowed red, waiting hungrily for the time to reform, to make whole, to suck the life from those who crossed in its path. Soon the lost souls would scream once more as new ones joined them in the helpless void of misery where they waited for a salvation that would never happen.

The crow circled, swooping low as it neared the epicenter that would soon spew out the remnants of the Inn giving birth to it as a woman gave birth to a child. Screaming out as blood poured from the open womb. Only this would not be a child, but it would be alive as the channel erupted and spit out the sand, stone, mortar, wood, and brick that would become a strong foundation for evil. The crow neared the center, its beak opening in a cry that let its minions know the soul they sought was coming closer. The reward for taking this man would be to see darkness become the norm in the world of light. This would happen only when Chris Larabee gave his soul willingly, and fed upon the blood of those closest to him.

---

Things in Farmington returned to normal as the trial faded away. James Clark's earthly body was buried in a grave outside of town, his soul however was in a hell of his own. Fire raged all around him as his victims invaded his disembodied dreams. He cried out as again and again as men, women, and children paraded around him, reminding him of his crimes against humanity. He ran...ran in long strides, but they caught him, dead fingers grabbing at his decaying skin even as their screams penetrated the barrier he tried to erect.

"Help!" he screamed as his skin burned with the holy touch of innocents. A cry that didn't go unheard, but was met with the laughter he recognized as his savior. He turned and looked overhead at a tree, so red it seemed to exude heat from every tainted leaf. Something black sat at the very top of the petrified altar and he knew he was home. He swallowed past the his decaying throat and trembled as the crow descended towards him. It swooped low and landed in front of him in the form he'd come to know. The screams of his victims were lost as a force of evil so strong it took his breath away reached out to touch him. he knew there was damage to his body, three days in the ground had taken a toll on him. His skin was dry, his mouth decaying as the smell of his own putrefied corpse permeated the air around him.

"Masstterrr...h...heeellllppp...y...yourrrr...fa...fate...ful...s...ser...vant" The air hissed through rotted gums as he knelt before the demonic force before him. His body shivered and he felt his flesh sliding from his bones.

The red eyes glowed with demonic force as the elongated finger reached for the newest member of its legion. The nails scraped against the dripping flesh of his throat, tearing off a layer of skin. The evil enigma before him eyed the thin membrane before mixing its own saliva with it and holding it before Clark's ruined mouth.

Clark knew what was expected of him and opened for the offering of his own flesh. He knew this was the sacrifice that would give his new master total control of his soul. He felt sickened by what he'd become, but understood there was no turning back. His heart had been fed to the sands of hell, to give it hope for new life. Now his flesh was being fed back to him in order to bring new life to his ruined body. He swallowed the offering, feeling the strength of his master standing over him, even has its saliva worked its magic through his veins. He felt new strength, new skin growing, dead cells rejuvenated with evil life as the form he knew as Columber reached out to touch the empty place where his heart once dwelled. A heart that held little love, and therefore did not understand the difference between good and evil. His master's hand released his chest and he smiled, knowing he now belonged to this demon...his body, his mind, and his soul could never be redeemed.

"Come, James, we must prepare for his arrival."

"Yes, Master." His words were no longer slurred through desiccated lips, his body oozed a new found strength and he knew he was where he belonged.

---

As time passed, Vin Tanner grew impatient. The memories of his nightmares had faded, but the feeling that something evil stalked them was stronger than ever. In the four days since Mindy Lawrence left town, his back seemed to grow stronger, yet O'Malley was not willing to let him leave so quickly.

"Vin, I know you feel better, and I've seen you walking with the others and I'm happy with your progress, but I'd rather you give it a couple of more days," the doctor said as the sharpshooter sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hell, Doc..."

"He giving you a hard time, Doc?" Larabee asked as he entered the room.

"No more than usual. Is he always this stubborn?" O'Malley asked as he closed up his bag.

"No...you just caught him on a good day," Larabee said, grinning at the blue glare sent his way.

"Ya ain't one ta talk, Lar'bee," the tracker hissed. The doctor's poking and prodding had awakened the pain, but it wasn't as bad as the day before.

"Chris, how's the arm?" the physician asked.

"It's doin' better, Doc," the gunslinger said. One look at the sharpshooter told him he wasn't fooling the younger man.

"Let me take a look," O'Malley ordered.

"No need...it's fine," the blond said.

"Now who's bein' stubborn?" the tracker drawled softly.

Larabee sank down on the second bed and rolled up his sleeve. He knew there was new blood on the wound, and couldn't understand his reluctance to let the sawbones look at it. Somehow it reminded him of the nightmares that waited just beyond his waking mind. He wouldn't have been surprised to find out his best friend was having the same problems remembering his dreams.

O'Malley lifted the soiled cloth and shook his head. The wound was small and should've healed up by now, but blood and pus continued to seep from it. He knew he'd need to clean it again and looked sympathetically at the gunslinger.

"I'm sorry, Chris, I just don't understand what's going on with this. You sure you've been taking care of it...not overusing the arm?" O'Malley asked, pressing the edges in order to get rid of the poison.

"Haven't been doing anything with it, Doc," Larabee winced as the man placed his fingers on the sides of the wound.

---

Vin watched the two men, his worry evident on his face. Something about the wound still bothered him, yet he couldn't quite place what it was. His mind wandered back to his days with the Commanches and a ritual he'd performed with his brother at that time. His right hand instinctively reached for the tiny scar on his left forearm and he smiled as he remembered his Indian brother. The young brave wanted to make sure they were brothers by blood as well as spirit and he'd used a knife to make a shallow cut on both their arms. He remembered how honored he felt when they'd been declared blood brothers. He shook his head and forced himself to concentrate on what the doctor was saying.

---

"All I can do is clean it again and hope whatever is causing it is over. Does it hurt?"

"Not really," Larabee answered honestly.

"Least that's somethin'," the physician said as he re-bandaged the wound. He closed up his bag and looked from one man to the other before speaking.

"Look, I know I can't keep you here, but I'd really like you to stay for at least another day..."

"Doc," Tanner hissed, not really understanding his need to get back to Four Corners as fast as possible.

"Just one day, Vin. I'd like to check Chris' arm once more," he knew he'd said the right thing when the tracker simply nodded. He turned to the gunslinger, knowing he was about to protest.

"Chris, this gives me a chance to check Vin's back once more," O'Malley smiled as he got the same reaction from his second patient. "Good, now that that's settled why don't we go see what Molly's made for lunch.

Larabee watched the doctor leave and turned a steady gaze on his friend. "I think we've just been conned."

"Think yer right...gotta keep the doc away from Ezra," the sharpshooter said, standing and walking towards the door. He felt Larabee join him and shuddered as he thought of what it would be like not to have this man watching his back. Shaking off the feeling he continued out into the hallway, following the sweet aroma of fresh bread and beef stew.

---

Long after darkness had descended over the town, and everyone else slept, a lone man lay awake. His fears and worries continued to nag at him until he sat up and retrieved the symbol of brotherhood his blood brother gifted him with. The moonlight shone through the window and glinted off the sharp blade in his hand. A blade that made a small cut so many years ago, and would do so again.

Vin had no idea why he felt compelled to cut into his arm, but he could not resist the need to do so. He looked across the room, his heart beating haphazardly against his chest as the moonlight shone on the pale face. What he saw took his breath away, and he wondered if a man like Chris Larabee could be considered angelic. For that's what he sensed in the sleeping visage, surrounded by a halo of white light. The lines in the handsome face eased with the deep sleep he seemed to be residing in and Vin knew if he was to do this it had to be now.

Looking back at the blade he placed it against his left arm. Gritting his teeth he pressed on the blade until blood welled up around the small wound left by the knife. He eased off the bed and made his way across the short distance. Vin looked at the other man, making sure his movements hadn't woke him, before he untied the bandage and exposed the wound to the air. He pressed against the outer edges of the puncture mark until a small amount of blood appeared. His head snapped up as Larabee moaned and then settled back on the bed.

Taking a deep breath, he touched his left arm to Larabee's and felt their lifeblood mix in an open exchange. He prayed what he was doing was right as he finally pulled his arm away from his friend and quickly replaced the bandage.

---

His nightmares continued to hold him, keeping him from the sweet dreams of a life he'd loved for such a short time. He felt his soul being pulled from his body, but something jolted the evil presence, driving it back and surrounding him in a warm light. He felt someone lift his arm, and something warm, life giving drove back the chill of evil that seemed to live within the tiny wound. He moaned softly, feeling as if the added strength would always be a part of him. Smiling inwardly, he sank back towards his dreams, knowing the nightmares would not intrude this time.

---

We're true brother's, Lar'bee. Nothin' can tear us apart now, he thought as he picked up a cloth from the table and cleaned his self-inflicted wound. The bleeding had already stopped as he sat on the edge of his own bed and again studied his chosen brother. He watched the sleeping man for another few minutes, before he sank onto his own bed and closed his eyes. Hoping the dreams would not come, yet feeling their nightmarish call even as he sank into the world of darkness.

---

"Time to rise and shine!" Wilmington said as he opened the door and looked from one sleeping man to the other.

"What the hell?" Larabee hissed as his long time friend's voice shook him from the realms of sleep.

"Shut the fuck up, Buck!" Tanner snapped, pulling the blanket back over his aching body. His sleep had been far from restful as crows with long talons and glowing red eyes invaded his dreams.

"Mr. Tanner, do I detest arising at such an ungodly hour myself, but if you are determined to leave this fair..."

"Ez, wouldn't use them big words if I were you. Looks like Vin's sufferin' from lack of sleep," the ladies' man warned, smiling as he watched the tracker fighting to sit up on the bed.

"What's got you two so happy this morning?" the gunslinger asked, as he pushed back the blankets and sat on the edge of his cot.

"I'm always happy, Stud, now ol' Ezra here, well that's a different matter. Maybe he needs a little ipecac," the ladies man suggested.

"Mr. Wilmington, if I may be so bold, it is you who requires a thorough purging," the gambler said, smiling as Larabee and Tanner laughed at the exchange.

"Do you two ever stop?" Larabee asked, reaching for his pants. He frowned as he looked at the bandage, remembering something that he thought was a dream. He flexed the fingers of his left hand, feeling the ease with which they moved. His eyes fell on the bandage and he fought to remember what remained just beyond his capabilities. He lifted his gaze and met the blue-eyed tracker seated across from him, knowing instinctively this man had something to do with it.

Wilmington watched as his friend opened and closed his left hand, and seemed to be testing his strength.

"Something wrong with your hand, Chris?" the ladies' man finally asked.

"No...don't think so anyway," Larabee answered.

"Is it your arm that is causing the problem?" Standish asked, moving to check the bandage.

"No...arm feels fine now," he said, his gaze still on the tracker. He finally looked down at his arm as the gambler began to untie the white material. A small amount of blood was present on the inside of the bandage, but there was none of the pus and swelling that worried the doctor the day before. Again he looked across at the younger man, sensing relief in the blue orbs.

"This looks much better, Chris," Standish said, his voice showing his surprise.

"Doc's in for a surprise when he checks that, Chris," the ladies man observed, relieved to see the wound was no longer festering.

"Why don't you two go on and eat. We'll join you as soon's we're ready," Larabee suggested.

Buck sensed the need for the two men to talk and moved to the door once more. He looked at the gambler and knew the younger man understood as he released his hold on the gunman's arm and hurried out of the room.

Chris waited for the door to close, his gaze locked on the tracker as he waited for him to speak. When the younger man remained quiet, the blond broke the silence, his voice low, and filled with awe.

"You did this?"

"Didn't do nothin'," the sharpshooter insisted.

"Vin, I thought it was a dream..."

"Maybe it was."

"Let me see your arm," Larabee ordered, not surprised when he saw the small wound in the tracker's arm. "You did that for me?"

"Did it fer us," the tracker whispered softly.

"Why? Columber?" The blond realized he'd answered his own question and nodded his understanding.

"Ain't seen the last of that bastard!" Tanner warned.

"I know," was Larabee's simple answer. The two men dressed quickly, needing to leave Farmington and hopefully the evil they sensed behind.

---

Two days later, just after sunrise, O'Malley sat on the chair and shook his head at the difference in Chris Larabee's arm. The wound that had festered the day before now showed no such problems. He looked at the gunslinger and smiled.

"Looks like your arm'll be as good as new in a day or two. No pain?"

"Feels fine," Larabee answered as he rolled down the sleeve of his shirt.

"Good," the physician turned to the second patient and waited for the younger man to lie down. He gently prodded the lower back, glad to see the swelling was gone, yet he knew the tracker would have residual pain.

Vin felt the hands pressing against his skin and although tender, the pain was nowhere near what it had been. He felt the doctor finish up and turned over in the bed.

"How is he, Doc?" Larabee asked.

"He's much better than I expected," the doctor answered.

"So we can leave today?" Tanner asked, knowing Larabee would not be willing to leave unless the physician cleared them both.

"As long as you take it easy, Vin. You boys have a long ride ahead of you. Make sure you get out of that saddle if you need to. Don't wait until your back is giving you fits," O'Malley explained, closing up his bag and standing up.

"Thanks, Doc," the tracker said, shaking the man's arm before reaching for his shirt.

"You're both welcome," the doctor said as the gunslinger made the same gesture. "Take care, boys, and have a safe trip home."

Chris watched the older man leave and turned back to his friend. He knew they were both anxious to leave Farmington and put as much distance as they could between the evil they'd sensed around them. Somehow he knew the evil was not in Farmington itself. He didn't want to tempt fate by staying in a town that seemed to be the cause of his nightmares. His hand rubbed across his chest as if he felt something heavy weighing down on it.

"Chris?" the tracker had been watching his friend and noted the grimace of distaste on the older man's face.

Larabee shook himself and looked at his friend. "Sorry, ya ready?"

"Yeah, let's go," the tracker agreed.

---

An hour later four men stood outside the livery stable checking to make sure they had everything for the journey back through the Bisti Badlands. Several members of the town were also present, including O'Malley, Molly Richmond and Hank Thompson. The boarding house owner moved towards the gunslinger, a package in her hand.

"Here, Chris, you boys might need something for your trip," she said.

"Molly, you shouldn't have..."

"It's not much, Chris. Just a few biscuits and a little bacon left over from breakfast," the woman said.

"Thank you," Larabee said, knowing she'd made extra on purpose that morning.

"You're all welcome. Now Vin you take it easy with that back of yours and make sure you stop in to see me if you come back this way. That goes for you and Ezra as well, Buck." The woman moved back as they mounted up for the long ride ahead of them.

"You boys take care," O'Malley said as they rode away. The small crowd turned away from the departing men and moved on with their lives, except for the woman who understood that what she saw could not be spoken of to anyone.

Molly stood in the center of the street, watching as the four men rode out of Farmington. She shuddered in spite of the heat, knowing the trial had only just begun for these men, and the verdict didn't look good for Chris Larabee. She said a silent prayer for their safety, knowing what was ahead would be a battle for one man's soul. She understood there was nothing she could do to save them from the evil that lay ahead, but her heart went out to them. She felt the tears in her eyes and turned away as the men finally disappeared from site.

"God go with you and help you through this trial," she whispered as the sharp caw of a crow sounded from the south.

---

The four men rode side by side as they left town, each one knowing the heat would just grow worse as they made their way deeper into the Badlands.

"Well, it'll be good to get back to Four Corners. There were a few things Farmington was lacking in," Wilmington stated, hoping to draw his friends into a lighter mood now that the trial and town were in the past.

"Ah, Mr. Wilmington, you're just upset because of the lack of female companionship," Ezra Standish said

"He's right, Buck," Tanner laughed. "The problem wasn't the lack of ladies though, problem was they didn't go fer yer animal maggotism."

"Ladies, Vin? I didn't see any ladies..."

"At least not the kind of ladies who'd give ya a second look, Buck," the soft-spoken tracker drawled.

"I do believe you're right, Mr. Tanner. The ladies of Farmington have class and we both know Mr. Wilmington is lacking in that department," Standish said as they waited for their forth travelling companion.

Buck knew his friends were teasing him and he leaned towards the gambler. "Ezra, I may be lacking in class department, but I make up for it in the..."

"...ass department," Tanner interrupted with a mischievous grin.

"The ladies like my ass...and my..."

"Forget it, Buck, no one believes that line anymore," Larabee said, smiling as the pain and fears of the last few days seemed to dissolve the further they rode from the town. They rode for two hours, the silence broken only by their own voices, as the sun reached its zenith.

"Got yer extra canteens?" the tracker asked and was glad to hear the others had filled theirs.

The area they were about to cross was known as the Bisti Badlands and Vin knew it was a dangerous trek. He knew where the watering holes were, but at this time of year they could be dried up and useless. The shimmering heat of the sun undulated across the multi-colored hills. Shallow ravines and strange rock formations spread out as far as the eye could see. The land harbored a multitude of colors that included red, gray, orange, and brown, stretching from horizon to horizon. The tracker knew from experience that the beauty of this land could easily enthral a man in its charms. He knew the bones of many an unfortunate soul lay scattered along the trail. A trail they'd made over a week ago, but this time they were taking a more direct route. One that would see them home faster than the one they'd originally made, bypassing the area where the murder took place. It would not be until much later that he realized his decision had been influenced by outside forces, ones that would not be denied.

"Vin?"

Tanner kept his eyes straight ahead, unaware that he'd pulled Peso to a stop. His eyes swung back and forth as a chill ran down his spine.

"Vin?"

The sharpshooter's sapphire blue eyes blinked rapidly and he realized he must have been day dreaming as Larabee's voice cut through his thoughts. He lifted his canteen and took a quick sip before replacing it on Peso's saddle. He saw Buck Wilmington and Ezra Standish riding a few feet ahead of them and smiled at the bickering between the two men. Some things never change, he thought as Wilmington's laughter echoed across the trail.

"Are you all right?" Larabee asked.

"Yeah, just thinking we got a hell of a ride ahead of us."

"You're not kidding. Between the heat and Buck and Ezra it's gonna be a long noisy one." Larabee waited for Tanner to start moving again and frowned as he noted the faraway look in his friend's eyes. "You sure it's just the ride that's bothering you?"

Tanner unconsciously reached behind and rubbed the dull ache in his lower back. "Yeah, I'm fine." He said and then looked at the gunslinger, a serious look on his face. "This place doesn't forgive mistakes, Chris."

"We better not, Cowboy, cause I got a feelin' things ain't over."

Larabee simply nodded as he flicked the reins and the two men followed the gambler and the scoundrel into the Bisti Badlands. The start of a journey that would see them all fighting for their lives.

---

The crow flew high overhead, its wings spread wide, its shadow moving over the epicenter of the circle of destruction. It understood that its mark on Chris Larabee had been defiled and would need to be renewed. The means would come from a new source, and this time it would not be so easily removed. It felt a ripple flow through it's body as the sands began a dance that would end with the Inn standing erect once more. Its fetid breath added to the evil that permeated the area as an ancient evil was about to be reborn, an evil that was never human, yet inhabited the walls of this dwelling, allowing it to live, to breathe, to capture and hold the souls he craved. A loud caw broke the silence as the sands shifted and began to form the living, breathing Inn of Lost Souls.

The sand whipped around the dilapidated structure, striking against the shattered windows, making little sound as the howling wind funneled it into a cloud. It rose high over the once tranquil home, rebuilding the tattered remnants of a life long since gone to dust. Cries of fear and rage mingled with the building tempest, and echoed through the harsh landscape, searching, seeking those who dared venture within their domain.

Bricks, mortar and petrified wood came together to rebuild the Inn, and bring life into the long dead walls. Columns reformed to surround the remnants of the porch and grew to encompass the front of the building, giving wake to the walls that would soon resemble how they'd looked in the dawn of their birth. Shattered windows reformed as rich tapestries were picked up by the funnel and hung where they belonged. Paintings and frames came together and were placed over the faded area's they'd once occupied. Marble and tiled floors were swept clear of dust and debris, their polished shine mirroring everything that hung above them. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings as the spiral staircase reclaimed the center of the Inn's stately lobby. The funnel rose to the second floor where the restoration began anew until the once vibrant Inn was again the picture of beauty and perfection it once was. A single splinter of wood broke away from the second floor next to a window that still didn't admit light into the room it adorned. The piece of wood was picked up with the other debris as the funnel of sand quickly dissipated and all was calm and serene.

The serenity lasted less than a minute as once more the wind howled and the cloud of sand flew out over the Badlands, carrying the slender missile in its wake. The landscape surrounding the hotel became lush with life once more as the inhabitants of the Inn reached out for the warmth of the living flesh.

---

They traveled steadily south, stopping once to enjoy the biscuits and bacon Molly Richmond supplied them with. It also gave Vin Tanner a chance to stretch the stiffness from his back and for that he was grateful. He felt Larabee watching him and turned to the gunslinger.

"I'm fine," he assured the worried man.

Larabee simply nodded and let it go. He knew the tracker well enough to see things weren't as bad as he thought, but he'd make sure he kept an eye on him.

"You boys, ready?" the gunslinger asked.

"Yeah, let's get moving," the scoundrel said. After clearing away their campsite they mounted the horses and began the slow journey back home.

The oppressive heat had succeeded in doing something nothing else could, it rendered the gambler and the scoundrel silent. The four men kept the horses to a slow but steady pace, making sure they gave the animals water as the sand kicked up around their hooves.

Vin watched the sky to the east as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something moved on the horizon and he knew whatever it was would be upon them before long.

"Something wrong, Vin?" Larabee asked as the younger man slowed his pace and waited for the others to catch up with him.

"Storm's coming," the tracker answered.

"How bad?" the gunslinger asked, trusting the younger man's instincts.

"Don't come no worse... we need ta find shelter," Tanner told them, unnerved by the speed of the force headed their way.

"Which way?" Wilmington asked as the horses grew skittish.

"Over there!" the tracker shouted, pointing to an outcropping of rock that might offer some shelter from the swiftly moving dust devil headed their way. He knew the storm was bigger than a simple dust devil, yet the word seemed to fit. He spurred Peso into a run and heard the others do the same.

---

The sand shifted and undulated, picking up speed as if it felt the nearness of its prey. The missile stayed at the same height from the ground, its pointed tip aimed in the direction of the four men. This part of the Inn sought out the soul, ready to bring him home, to where he belonged.

---

There was no time to speak, even if they could find the air to do so. The four horses raced across the hard packed sand, digging the hooves in and making the ground disappear underneath. The rocks seemed no closer than before, but they continued to ride.

Vin glanced over his shoulder and knew there was no way they'd make it to shelter. The shifting sandstorm continued on an intercept course with them and gained momentum. The hot wind beat against their skins as the first grains of sand bit into their skin.

---

Buck held his breath as he watched the oncoming storm, knowing in his heart they'd be caught in the violent maelstrom. He continued to race just to the right of the tracker, gritting his teeth against the hot air forced ahead of the sand.

---

Ezra felt the first grains of sand hit him and huddled closer to his horse. His body was being bombarded by the small grains and he briefly wondered how something so tiny could hurt so much. He followed the tracker, hoping the young man would be able to bring them to safety.

---

Chris rode slightly behind the other, the pelting sand and wind making it hard to see anything now. He prayed they'd all make it through, that they only be caught in the outer fringes of the storm. He knew that was not to be as he watched the sands surround and engulf his friends, leaving him alone in the heat and violence. He continued to ride, his body rigid as the pelting grains attacked his exposed skin.

---

Vin felt the storm reach him, cutting him off from the men he rode with. He no longer heard the sounds of Peso's hooves beating against the ground as the sharp siren like scream sounded from the storm. He felt the animal beneath him falter, but quickly right himself as the sand and other debris continued to strike him.

---

Ezra and Buck continued to ride as the tempest caught up and swallowed them whole. The air burned into their lungs, searing their throat as the tiny grains were forced into their mouths.

---

After losing sight of the others, Chris Larabee began to feel as if there was something different about this storm. The speed with which it gained on them seemed beyond anything he'd ever known. He felt lost in the sands of time, as if he'd been cut off from the others. A new sound had begun as soon as the others were engulfed in the storm and he prayed they'd be okay. The sound grew in intensity and violence, drowning out everything else around him. He wanted to cover his ears but to do so would mean releasing his grip on Pony's reins.

---

Vin, Buck and Ezra broke through the storm at almost the same instant, yet they continued to ride as if the hounds of hell were hot no their trail. The tracker was the first to pull up, realizing they'd broken out of the storm, yet he knew they were not safe here.

"Where's Chris?" Wilmington choked through the sand surrounding his throat.

"He was right behind me!" Standish shouted above the cacophony that continued around them.

"There he is!" the sharpshooter said as he watched Pony erupt from the wall of sand.

---

Chris realized they were through as Pony leapt from the gripping winds. He spotted his three friends, but didn't have the chance to acknowledge them as he tried to make it completely out of the hellish storm.

"Chris!" the cry erupted from three mouths as they watched in horror. A small arm like strand of the storm seemed to reach out and grab at the gunslinger.

Larabee felt something grip at his duster just as a fiery pain ignited in his right side. He couldn't stop the scream that erupted from his throat as his body was catapulted backwards to land heavily against the ground. He grabbed at his side, writhing in agony as whatever stabbed him seemed to be borrowing deeper into his body. He heard the others hurrying towards him, but couldn't find the energy to answer them.

"Chris, let me see!" Tanner hissed, kneeling beside the gunslinger as an unholy howl thundered around them. He pulled the gunslinger's hand away from the blood soaked duster and was shocked by what he saw.

"Jesus, Vin, it's moving!" Wilmington swore as he watched in disbelief as a piece of wood seemed to be sucked into Larabee's body.

"What is that?" Standish asked, holding tightly to the reins of the four horses.

"I don't know!" the tracker shouted above the winds.

"Take...it...out!" Larabee moaned as he felt the thing move deeper into his flesh.

"Hang on, Chris!" Tanner hissed as he tried to grip the undulating object.

---

The crow landed on the ground in front of the stately Inn, its body shifting until he stood on two legs. He watched the window that would soon house the man who's soul would be his to conquer and devour. He watched a tremor run through the newly restored structure as the ground under his feet rippled with movement. He turned to see James Clark beside him and spoke softly.

"They will be here shortly. Make sure all is in readiness!"

"Yes, master," Clark said, hurrying to do his master's bidding.

---

Vin tried to grab onto the object protruding from Larabee's side, but each time his fingers slipped in the sticky crimson fluid oozing from the gunman's body.

"Jesus!" the blond swore through grated teeth as tears filled his eyes. The pain became his world as the piece of debris crawled through his flesh, becoming part of his body in spite of the tracker's efforts.

"Vin!"

"I know, Buck!" the sharpshooter hissed as he tried once more to grab onto the offending item. The scream that erupted from the gunslinger made him cringe and he could only watch as the large splinter of wood disappeared beneath Larabee's swollen flesh.

"...Jesus..." the blond groaned, feeling his stomach churn as the object seemed to shift, before finally lying still within his body.

"What the hell was that?" The ladies' man asked, fear evident in his voice.

"I have never witnessed anything like this before," the gambler answered.

"...Vin..." Larabee's voice was low, but they could all hear the pain.

"Easy, Chris," the tracker soothed, opening Larabee's shirt to get a better look at what they were facing. He touched the puckered wound and heard a gasp from the gunman as something alive seemed to move beneath the skin.

Buck was reminded of the time he'd helped his friend deliver Adam Larabee into the world. Adam's movements had pressed against Sarah's belly, much the same as whatever had attacked Chris Larabee was doing now. Only this time there was none of the awe and excitement he'd had at seeing the life move inside Sarah.

"...d...don't t...touch...it..." the blond hissed as he felt the younger man carefully probe the area.

"I can't get ta it," the sharpshooter told them as Larabee tried to turn onto his side.

"Can he ride, Vin?" Standish asked, knowing how important it was to get the injured man out of the path of the storm that continued around them.

"Rather not, but we don't have a choice. He ain't gonna be able ta ride by hisself," the younger man said and looked at the scoundrel.

"I'll take him," the ladies man said.

"Alright, Ez, pass me somethin' ta wrap this up with," the tracker ordered.

Chris heard them talking, but there was nothing he could do, but lie on the ground. If he moved so did the object in his side, and when that happened his body felt the fiery pain that came with it. He felt it shift again as Tanner eased him onto his back once more and pressed something against the wound. He hissed through clenched teeth as his upper body was lifted and the bandage secured in place.

"Think he'll be able to make the ride to Four Corners?" Wilmington asked.

"I don't know, but we can't stay here," the younger man answered honestly.

"...get...us ou...outta...here..." the gunman rasped.

"We will, Chris. Alright, Buck, mount up and me and Ez'll pass him up ta ya."

The ladies man nodded and hurried to his horse. He watched as Standish ground tied the other three and moved to help the tracker with the injured man.

"Chris, me and Ez are gonna help ya..."

"...okay...Vin..." Larabee gritted his teeth as the two men gripped his arms and eased him up. The pain exploded in his side and he cried out, yet the strong arms held him tight.

"I'll do most of the work," the conman warned the tracker, wary of the injured back. The shaggy head nodded once as they lifted the lean gunslinger up to the ladies man.

Buck settled the blond in front of him, worried about the trembling he felt just beneath the surface. He pulled the man against him, hoping to make the ride a little easier.

"Buck, storm's getting worse, gonna need ta tie 'im ta ya!" the tracker warned, moving to Peso and grabbing the rope hanging from the saddle.

"Ez, ya git onna them fancy rags ya tote and cover yer face up!" He ordered and the southerner quickly took the veteran's advice.

The winds began to pick up once more bringing with it the pelting sands and other debris with it. The small circle of calm withered as Tanner and Standish worked to tie Larabee to the ladies' man and then to the saddle itself. Vin reached into Buck's saddlebag and retrieved a shirt. He ripped it in half, handing one part to the strong rogue, who covered the lower half of his face. Then he quickly wrapped the other around most of the gunslinger's face, the loose drape at the bottom allowing air flow from underneath, not directly. For a second their eyes met, and a silent message passed between the two men. Vin saw the fear in the sea green eyes and tried to send a message with his own. He tugged the black hat low covering the tell-tale eyes and patted Larabee's leg. Then he glanced at the ladies man and moved to mount up. He lifted his kerchief from his neck and tied it securely so only his eyes remained unprotected. He tugged his slouch hat low, protecting his eyes. With a final glance over his shoulder he signaled for them to move out. The tracker took the lead, heading them southward once more in hopes of leaving the storm behind them.

---

Columber felt the change in the air around him and his lips curled up around a row of uneven yellow teeth. His eyes flashed quickly from black to brown to red to black once more as the Inn undulated and settled on its newly formed foundations. He knew exactly when the missile entered Chris Larabee's body as the Inn itself came to life with a sound that some would construe as a sigh. He took a deep breath as the putrid scent of death and decay came to life, as if Larabee's soul was already in its grasp. He knew there was still a battle ahead, but when that battle ended the gunslinger would be by his side, a sentinel to the gates of hell. Here, in this unholy place, Columber's legion of demons would find their path to the world unchallenged. He smiled and looked to the west, feeling the soul, so strong, so pure, and moving once more toward him. A shudder ran through his frame and his skin quickly covered in feathers as arms became wings, and a crow once more stood on the ground. Unable to contain his excitement, the vile creature flew into the air seeking out the four men heading in his direction.

---

Vin silently cursed the changing winds and shifting sands that seemed to be herding them away from Four Corners. If he tried to turn west, the maelstrom grew even more violent as if something wanted them to move in one direction. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as Wilmington tried to shield his precious cargo from the tendrils of the storm that attacked them. Without warning the storm shifted once more and the four men were engulfed by the deadly force of nature. Pelting granules of sand and small stones slammed into them with more force than they thought possible. He'd long since given up trying to protect his own face as he sought the safest route out of the fury ravaging the landscape.

---

Ezra rode as close to Peso as possible, trying to offer what little protection he could to the two men bringing up the rear. He held tightly to Pony's reins as he protected his neck and face as best he could. He'd long since given up trying to keep his hat on, the winds and sand simply didn't believe he should do so. Visibility was almost nil as they continued through the howling tempest. The air was think with silt, clay and other debris and he fought to bring oxygen through his soft kerchief and into his lungs. He kept his eyes on his companions, praying they would not get separated in the twisting fury surrounding them.

---

Buck's arms felt like lead as he fought to keep his hold on the reins, his effort made worse by the wilting body tied to his own. Despite the cloth over his face, somehow sand and dust still managed to get into his mouth and nostrils. His eyes burned as he fought the stinging slap of sand, but he could make out his two companions directly in front of him. That they were fighting for their lives was obvious, yet who or what they were fighting remained to be seen. He wanted to soothe the trembling man in his arms, but there was no time or energy to do so. Everything he was, everything he had was needed to keep them both in the saddle in spite of the ropes binding them to the horse.

---

Unlike the other three, Chris Larabee was unaware of the storm growing in force around him. His mind was on the storm being waged inside his body as each step made by Wilmington's horse wedged the splinter deeper into his side. The sand striking against his face and neck didn't register as he felt the evil presence coming closer. He wanted to scream a warning to the others, but there was no energy to do so. His head sagged to his chest, and his eyes closed as he tried to fight the incoming entity.

---

The crow flew through the storm, cawing as the wall of sand parted to allow him an easy journey. It soared high overhead until its eyes bored down on the one he sought. The beak opened wide, blood dripping from the crimson eyes as it swooped down towards the four riders. It knew Larabee was being carried by one of his friends, the missile nearly incapacitating the man with a pulsating life of its own. It flew by several times before turning northeast towards the Inn, knowing its prey would soon arrive. As it soared over the horse carrying the two riders a drop of crimson fluid dripped from its mouth and it heard Chris Larabee moan as the blood landed on his forehead.

---

Chris felt something wet hit his skin and reached up to wipe it away as searing pain flared through the point of contact. His mind and body silently screamed as the piece of debris in his side moved with a violent fury, that only he registered.

Vin heard the sound, but from inside his head instead of with his ears and he looked once more towards Larabee. The storm continued to hack at him and any exposed skin tingled with pain as if scalded. Ignoring the pain, he moved to Larabee and Wilmington, stopping beside his friends. Sensing the evil at work around them he reached out and gently touched the crimson spot on Larabee's forehead. He closed his eyes and sent a message to whoever or whatever was shadowing them.

Ya cain't 'ave 'im. He's not yours...Ain't ever gonna be! Hear me ya bastard! Ya ain't gettin' 'im!

---

The crow shuddered in mid-flight as the warning sounded inside its tiny skull. It knew the voice, and it felt the foreign fear the words imparted. The surety with which they were spoken left little doubt that the man who spoke them would need to be dealt with.

Ya cain't 'ave 'im. He's not yours...Ain't ever gonna be! Hear me ya bastard! Ya ain't gettin' 'im!

The vow continued to throb through the black mind, carving away at its objective, and planting niggling seeds of doubt where none had ever been. It shook so hard black feathers flew from its body before it turned back to the four men. It had to make sure the soul did not escape again.

---

Vin felt the change as the storm picked up momentum, driving sands swirled around them in a dark stinging rain. It bit into their exposed skin, slashing across them and getting under their clothes. Vin removed his hand, knowing he had to get them out before whatever evil resided in the wall of violence caught up to them once more. He knew Larabee needed help and he began to pray for some of Josiah's Divine intervention. He motioned for the others to follow him once more and turned Peso into the thickest part of the barrier.

---

The satanic bird drew closer to the small group of men struggling against its malevolence. It dipped and swirled as the ocean of sand parted under its power. It spotted the four horses, fighting through the thickening curtain, cawing as it realized they were nearly in reach of the Inn. It was just a matter of keeping them on the path of least resistance.

He will be mine...as it was always meant to be! All I have to do is touch him and he knows I am near! he sent so only one man could hear.

---

He will be mine...as it was always meant to be! All I have to do is touch him and he knows I am near!

Vin shuddered as he felt the ripple of words inside his skull and vowed not to let anything get close to Chris Larabee. He'd protect the man with his own life if that's what it came to. Something made him look up, and despite the blinding fury he could see the shadowy outline of a huge bird. He knew what this thing wanted and he moved to join Buck Wilmington. His hands reached for the reins as darkness threatened to shut them off from each other. Words were impossible, gestures could barely be seen, yet he knew the ladies man understood the need to move. He turned them into the worst of the tempest, feeling as if he was leading them away from the evil.

---

It screeched as it felt the strength in the young man whose defiance grew stronger each time he vowed to protect the gunslinger. Tanner continued to taunt him by turning away from the direction he wanted them to go. Somehow he needed to stop this man, otherwise all was lost and things would remain as they were. He would not allow that to happen, this world was ripe for the taking and death would come to anyone who stood in his way.

---

Buck could no longer see the man he held, but the tremors running through the lean form told him the blond was still with him. He knew Tanner held the reins of all the horses as he continued to lead them. There was no doubt in his mind that the tracker would get them through, but where they ended up was another question. He knew they'd gotten turned around in the squall and where they ended up was a wild guess. One he wasn't sure he was ready to make. He held the blond close, feeling the heart beating in his chest, at the same time something moved beneath the ravaged skin on his side.

---

Ezra had never seen such a storm. He remembered his mother telling him of such a thing during one of her trips. Some people had called it a dust devil, and the gambler thought it an apt name. He knew people died during the storm she told him of, smothered by the sand and dust being blown down their throats and cutting off their air supply. His chin was buried in the collar of his red coat in an effort to keep from breathing in too much of the sickening maelstrom. Onwards he road, unaware of the danger that lay ahead.

---

Chris let his head drop down to his chest as the ride through hell continued. His body seemed to have gained weight, and he understood the sand was now embedded inside his clothes, grating between his clothes and his bare skin. It felt like he was being rubbed raw as he shifted in the saddle. He realized his mistake as the dormant missile in his side shifted with him, sending shockwaves through his body. He felt consciousness leaving him as a shadow formed above his head.

---

Vin rode steadily into the storm, knowing it had to end somewhere. He felt Peso fighting against the winds and debris and tried to pull his buckskin jackets closer around his body. He had no idea how long they trekked through the maelstrom, His head tucked down to his chest in an effort to keep the sand from cutting anymore skin from his face.

---

"NO!" the cry ripped from the crow's throat, no longer a caw, but a human voice, impossibly loud in the screaming gale. It could not happen...they would not escape. It raced through the storm, seeing the light that signaled they would soon reach safety. He could not let Tanner lead them away form the Inn. It swooped low, its claws touching the back of the sharpshooter's head, tangling in the long hair. As horse and rider raced out of the storm, the bird yanked with malevolent strength.

---

Vin didn't have time to register that they'd made it out of the shifting wall of sand, as his body toppled backwards out of the saddle. Pain stabbed through his skull as he impacted with the ground. His vision blurred as the world around him wavered and threatened to send him back into the tempest.

"Vin!" Standish cried as he leapt from his horse and moved to the fallen man.

Wilmington pulled the material from his face and looked down at the younger men. His worry escalated as he watched the gambler pull the kerchief from the tracker's face.

"EZ?" He screamed over the gale, frowning as the banshee wail of the storm began to escalate once more.

"I don't know yet!" the concerned conman shouted , grabbing his canteen and kneeling beside the down man once more. He turned his body, shielding the downed man as best he could from the violent wind.

"Vin..." Larabee's voice was weak and both men understood the danger both men were in.

"Vin?" Standish hollered , lightly slapping at the younger man's cheek in an effort to rouse him .

Two blue slits appeared, confused and riddled with pain. The jaw opened and the sand-encrusted lips tried to part. Ezra acted quickly, dabbing the gritty lips with water first and allowing them to open. He lifted Vin's head and tipped the water vessel.

"Drink this!" the southerner ordered, holding the canteen to the slack lips. He watched as the sharpshooter fought to control the pain and finally sat up.

"You okay, Vin?" Wilmington yelled over the severe wind. The shaggy head nodded once and the eyes blinked. Buck wasn't convinced and sent the southerner a silent message when he saw the tracker try to stand.

"Lie still!" the conman warned, as the Texan tried to get up.

"Chris?" Tanner muttered as his eyes began to focus and sought Wilmington.

"He's okay..." Buck shouted, guarding the body with his own.

"Dammit, need ta get outta here!" Tanner said, sensing the evil building around them once more.

Buck and Ezra exchanged a worried look when the shaggy head dropped and the buckskinned shoulders dropped in defeat. Tanner wore his guilt all too readable.

"Get your head up!" the conman shouted, noting the wind dying down a bit. "If not for your diligent efforts, we would have perished!"

"You done good, son!" Buck boomed, lending his support. "You saved all our hides.".

"Did I?" the tracker asked, worried as a new sound joined the others and a screeching wail grew to encompass them. The pounding in his skull escalated and his body swayed sickeningly. His knees buckled under the pain and if not for the conman grabbing him, he'd have fallen.

"Shit...damn storm's shifting back this way! Ez, Get 'im on his horse!" Wilmington shouted as the cacophony began again.

"Any idea where we are?" Standish asked, helping the tracker to his gelding.

"Ain't su...sure...can't tell...which...way...!" the sharpshooter mumbled as Standish helped him mount up.

"See anything?" Wilmington asked as a painful shudder raced through the lean form in his arms.

"Nothing," the gambler said, moving in closer to the tracker. "Vin, can you ride?"

"No ch...choice...t...try k...keep ou...outta storm" the Texan said as they began to move once more.

They rode onward, keeping the storm on the right, but a sudden shift in the wind brought them back into the midst of the violence. The four men moved forward, two of them unaware of the direction they were taking. Ezra kept his body as close to the sharpshooter as he could, his body taut in case he needed to move quickly. He turned as he heard Buck riding up beside him.

"Somethin' ahead!" the ladies man shouted as the sand forced its way down his throat.

"What is it?"

"Don't know...maybe heaven!" the scoundrel shouted in order to be heard.

---

The crow took on human form once more as it landed at the door to the Inn. Columber smiled as he looked towards the southwest, knowing the four men were set on the course he'd laid out for them. It worked, better than he hoped as the riders continued on an intercept course with the circle of darkness. He entered the house, watching as his legion of demons continued to move within the Inn. He looked up the spiral staircase, knowing room 17 was waiting for its new resident. For here was where Chris Larabee would reside for all eternity. A sentinel who would keep the gates open, allowing evil free reign over the world of light.

---

"What is that place?" Wilmington asked, his arms still wrapped around the injured gunslinger.

"Perhaps it's a haven from darkness," Standish said.

"Don't matter what it is. It's the only place 'round and we need ta get Chris and Vin inside," the ladies man shouted, feeling the man he held move in the saddle.

"How're ya doin', Chris?" the scoundrel asked worriedly.

"T...tired...w...where are...we?" the blond asked, searching the darkness as if something was closing in on him.

"Not sure, but there's a place up ahead. We're gonna head that way...maybe get some help," Wilmington explained.

"...okay..." the blond wilted back against the ladies' man, his eyes closing as nausea rolled through him once more.

"Let's ride," Standish said and led them forward once more. He felt the animals grow skittish the closer they got to the large structure, but kept them moving forward.

---

Chris began to struggle against the man holding him as his body seemed to burn from inside out. He heard Wilmington speaking to him, but couldn't acknowledge him. Again and again the foreign object inside him sent shards of agony pulsating through his body.

---

The Inn undulated in the exact center of the circle of corruption. With each shift of the splinter in the victim's body, the structure mirrored the move. If the animal Larabee rode miss-stepped, the missile surged deeper into his side, sealing the man to the Inn that had born it. Things were about to come full circle and the inhabitants of the Inn, both good and evil, were ready for the fight to come. A fight that would mean the difference between light and dark and the freedom of the souls that were lost within the walls.

---

The hallway seemed to go on forever, his long legs unable to cut the distance as he ran towards the figures crumpled on the floor. The screams followed him, even as elongated, taloned fingers clutched at his bare skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever they came in contact with him. Demonic manifestations surrounded him, but he couldn't let them stop him. He heard the anguished screams from souls trapped within the structure, but could not help them until he helped release the chosen one. The faith of that one soul...the faith of the world...the fight between good and evil, light and dark, depended on their success.. Something loomed ahead, something big, monstrous, overshadowing all else in the netherworld, where reality became fantasy, life and death were a matter of opinion, and evil sought it's hold on mankind.

"NO!" he thought his scream was echoed by two others and turned to see JD Dunne and Nathan Jackson joining him at the threshold of evil. Cackling laughter reached their ears as the altar on which Chris Larabee lay began to bleed. Three bodies surrounded the gunslinger, men who'd been friends in life, but he could not help them now. Blood, vomit, and feces were strewn across the dripping walls. Sightless eyes stared at them from the three dead warriors, but nothing compared to the desolate stare from the once vibrant greens orbs set in the pale, ruined face of the gunman.

He could tell Larabee still lived, but the monstrosity with fangs dripping bloodied pieces of flesh would soon tear the soul from the still body. The talons reached for Larabee's chest, digging into the soft tissue, breaking bones as it sought the beating organ within the dazed man.

"NO!" he screamed and again heard the word echoed by his two companions. He knew this was a dream, yet there was a sense of reality in it.

Larabee screamed, his body arching off the altar as with a final jerk the beast pulled the pumping heart from his body, squeezing the organ, and sucking at the blood that ran from the ravaged life force.

"NO!"

"NO!"

Josiah woke with a start, his trembling body covered in sweat, even as the word left his mouth. He knew there were two others in this town who'd suffered the same nightmare, but wasn't quite ready to face them yet. Taking a deep breath he sat up on the edge of the simple bed in the back room of the small church he was restoring. He'd never been a man prone to nightmares, but when he did have them they were usually a warning of things to come. This dream was among the worst he'd ever had and he knew his friends were in trouble. He scrubbed at tired eyes and placed his elbows on his knees as the nightmarish images ran in vivid, living colors behind his closed lids.

Memories of the anguished screams for help from souls tortured beyond humanities imagination cried out to him. They pleaded for help, they cried for redemption, they begged forgiveness for any slight they might have made in life. In death their fears had grown until it shrouded them in darkness, one so complete their souls were trapped in an evil place, where light could not penetrate. The pain and horror they felt would be with them until someone stopped the torrent of evil manifesting itself once more on the earth. There was a fight coming, and for Josiah Sanchez, that fight was now his. It became his when the evil that now corrupted part of the world had taken something of his. The family of brothers he'd grown to care for, four men now trapped in a fight that could end with three dead, and one trapped in a role he did not want...did not deserve.

Josiah stood and swayed precariously as nausea overwhelmed him. There was a fight coming, one that he needed to help his friends through, yet something was trying to stop him from getting to them. He stood in the doorway for several seconds, waiting for his body to gain strength from his determination. He made it into the main part of the church and looked to the cross on the wall over the pulpit.

"Lord, give us the strength to help our brother fight the evil that has marked him. Give Vin, Ezra and Buck the strength to keep him safe until we can join them in this war against darkness..."

"Josiah."

Sanchez turned at the sound of the healer's voice spoken from the open door of the church. JD Dunne stood beside him and he felt some of the chill leave his body.

"The time is at hand," the older man told his visitors.

"You had the dream too?" Dunne asked.

"Nightmare would be more like it, Son," Sanchez answered softly.

"We need to find them," Jackson told them both.

"How? All I could see was the shifting wall of sand when it swallowed them up, how do we find that place where they were?" Dunne said, sinking onto the pew at the back.

"JD, just as the evil is guiding the others on this dark path, there will be light to guide us to them. We have to keep faith and be strong," Sanchez sat beside the youth, pulling him close as he realized JD Dunne was going to find out what true evil really was.

"I have faith, Josiah, I just don't know if it's strong enough. Vin, Ezra, and B...Buck were d...dead," the young easterner said softly.

"Only in that dream world, JD. They are still alive, but they will need our help. We're stronger when we're together. Look into your heart, Son, you'll find there's more faith there than you know," the older man touched his chest before standing up and looking at the healer. A simple nod of the head told him Nathan was okay, and understood what they were going up against. But Josiah Sanchez knew none of them were really prepared for what lay ahead. Tonight they would pray for guidance, tomorrow they would take whatever answers they received and set out on a journey that could mean the end for not only them, but the world as they knew it.

---

They rode towards the structure, unaware of the evil watching them, seeking out their weaknesses in an effort to find the thing that made them vulnerable.

Chris continued to struggle against the man holding him. The pain in his side no longer the source of his discomfort. Each step the horses made towards the Victorian Manor lent a new fear to his mind and body. Each time he tried to speak, his mind seemed bogged down in thick mire and he was unable to put words to those fears. He sagged against Buck Wilmington, his eyes staring at the white outer walls of the two-story frame structure

There were intersecting gables with scalloped shingles. A full front porch extended to north elevation and featured turned posts, elaborate brackets and interlaced with wooden trellises, several flowers of unknown varieties were laced through the terrace. The second story porch ran the length of the building and around both sides and had the same details as the front porch. The entrance was two double oak doors framed by two large bay style windows, covered in lacy cream colored curtains. The three visible windows on the second floor featured rectangular sash windows with numerous glass panes. The shutters stood open, framing the windows and blocking the view to the inside. A small tower stood out on the eastern corner of the Manor, devoid of windows it was a stark contrast to the rest of the Inn.

Chris's eyes were drawn to the second floor, to the middle window, something moved beyond the dark panes. His vision blurred as they stopped in front of the main doors. He didn't want to go in there, but there was no way he could tell the others he wanted to leave. He tore his gaze away from the window and looked at the tracker. The younger man didn't seem to be awake and his desperation escalated as Chris tried to speak of his fears. He knew if Vin Tanner had been awake he would also feel the undeniable sense of evil that seemed to ooze from the structure. Chris could not have explained how he felt to the two men who held him and Tanner, they were too intent on getting both him and Vin out of the storm.

The storm, the blond thought fearfully. Something about the way it stayed away from the Manor bothered him. They were completely surrounded by the wall of shifting sand, yet there was none of the noise or intensity that had been with them before spotting this place. He knew Standish and Wilmington were worried about him and Vin, and that worry was making them blind to what was happening around them.

"Easy, there, Chris, you're safe now. We're just gonna get you and Vin inside and get ya both some help," Wilmington explained as he felt the lean man fighting his hold.

"...no..." Larabee managed, screaming as the object embedded in his side burned with red hot intensity. He bucked against the intrusion, nearly dislodging himself and Wilmington from the saddle.

"Jesus, hang on Chris!" the scoundrel hissed, watching as Standish dismounted and reached for the tracker.

"I'll be right back to help you!" the gambler said, wrapping his arms around the semi conscious Texan and guiding him up the steps leading to the heavy oak doors. He lifted the iron door knocker, oblivious to everything around him in his haste to get help.

The door opened easily, revealing a middle aged man dressed in a black tuxedo style suit and frilly lace shirt. His silver hair was slicked back, revealing a face that had weathered many a storm. Ezra instinctively placed his age between fifty and sixty and prayed the man would help them.

"My name is Ezra Standish...my friends are injured. We need a place..."

"...to weather the storm. I am Judge Galla Shedim. Please, bring them in and my staff will gladly take care of their needs."

"Thank you," Standish said gratefully, and turned back to the ladies man. "Buck, I'm going to get Vin inside and then come back to help you with Chris."

"Hurry, Ez!" Wilmington snapped, as Larabee continued to struggle in his grasp. He held tightly to his friend, fighting to keep him from falling.

"Buck....n...no..."

"Sh, Chris, Ez'll be right back," he said, frowning as he felt the tremble in the man's body. Something about the way Larabee was struggling sent niggling doubts through his mind, but the sound of the storm growing close once more drove them back.

"P...please..." the gunslinger cried out as the wailing banshee like screams sent throbbing pain through his skull. He knew the sound was not from the storm, but from something inside the haven before him.

"Hang on Chris," the scoundrel soothed, anxiously watching the door for Standish' return.

---

Ezra continued to take the tracker's weight as he followed the tall, gangly man deeper into the house. They bypassed several closed doors, until they stepped into a large ballroom style room. The dominant feature was an ornately decorated spiral staircase leading to the second floor landing. His expertise in the society world told him the furnishings were expensive antiques. He shook his head and brought his attention back to the injured man beside him.

"You may put him there for now," the man said, pointing to an exquisite rosewood settee, surrounded by several matching chairs and a cherry wood table.

"Come on, Vin, let's get you comfortable," Standish said, easing the younger man onto the soft cushions.

"Ez...Chris okay?"

"He's fine. I'm going to help Buck bring him in. You just sit here until we come back," Standish ordered, worried about the ashen complexion that had overtaken the normally tanned Texan.

"We do not usually have visitors, but I will have rooms readied for all of you. How many are there?" the host asked, his voice deceptively calm as he watched Standish move away from the settee.

"Four."

"I will see to it immediately," the silver haired man said. His eyes changed to red as he looked at the nearly unconscious man seated before him. You and your friends will not keep him from me, Mr. Tanner. I will deliver him to my Lord, he thought as he looked at the room at the top of the stairs. The door opened and James Clark looked down at him. A simple nod told him all was in readiness for their guests. He turned away from the tracker and took the stairs two at a time in his excitement to see that preparations were carried out to his specifications.

As soon as he left a wisp of white mist entered through the closed door leading into the basement. A scent of roses soon permeated the area, bringing with it a sense of peace that mocked all that happened within the walls of the Inn. An ethereal figure formed in front of the settee and soft fingers reached out to stroke the long hair that had fallen in front of the man's face. "You have to fight for your brother, Vin Tanner, for you and he are part of one soul."

"...one soul..." the Texan whispered.

She placed her hand on the tracker's chest, healing the injury to the young man's back, while sending him into a deep sleep. He had a fight coming and the entity knew the evil presence would block his every move, but at least now he would have a fighting chance.

"Sleep well, Vin Tanner, the time of darkness is almost at hand and it will take all of your strength to see light restored to this world you hold dear."

---

"Chris, I'm going to hand you down to Ezra. We'll have you feelin' better in no time."

Larabee tried to fight them, but there was nothing left to call on. His reserves of energy were gone, his body and mind surrendering control as the projectile burned within him. His eyes were clenched tight as his long time friend eased him down to the other man. There was nothing he could do to stop what was going to happen, but the evil that gripped his body would not invade his mind.

"I got him, Buck," Standish said, wrapping his arms around the trembling man as Wilmington dismounted and threw the reins over the hitching post.

"Here, Ez, let me take him," the scoundrel said, picking the gunslinger up in his arms as Standish hurried to open the door. Larabee wasn't a big man, but Wilmington realized he wouldn't be able to carry him very far. As soon as the gambler opened the door he returned to help with the gunslinger. Without a word the two men carried their injured friend between them, and unwittingly entered hell on earth.

"Where's Vin?" the scoundrel asked.

"On a settee in the ball room," Standish answered breathlessly as they entered the main room on the first floor.

"He okay?"

"Think so..."

"You may bring him up here. His room is ready," their host called from the top of the spiral staircase.

Buck and Ezra moved to the wide staircase, glad to see there was plenty of room for them to maneuver easily.

Chris heard the voice and forced his eyes open as they began to climb to the second floor. He shivered as the unmistakable red eyes glared down at them. He knew the face, and felt the black heart inside the body. He tried to speak, but cried out as the red eyed man smiled and pain erupted from his side once more.

"Easy, Chris, won't be much longer," Wilmington assure his friend. He looked at Standish and saw the same worry on his face as they stepped onto the second floor landing.

"In here," the Inn's owner called.

Buck and Ezra carried Larabee into the room and over to the large, high back poster bed. The blankets had been pulled back and a young crow haired woman stood beside it, fluffing the pillows, before standing back and allowing them to ease their burden onto the soft feather mattress.

"...n...no...Vin..."

"Sh, Chris, it's okay. We're going to get Vin and make sure he's settled in a room too. You just hang on a minute, okay?"

"...le...leave..."

"We're just gonna leave you for a minute, Chris," Standish assured him as he pulled the blankets up over the injured man.

"Ma'am, can you watch him for a minute?" Wilmington asked.

"Of course. I am Lillith, my husband and I will make you most welcome here. You go tend to your other friend," the woman said, her voice deceptively soft as she watched them leave.

"Is this the one?" she asked, long talons emerging from twisted fingers.

"Yes, this is the soul that will bring the darkness to this world. Our lord has seen to deliver him into our hands in order to complete the transformation," Galla smiled as the demon raked her talons along Larabee's cheek.

"He is strong!"

"That's what makes him so special."

"What about his friends?" she asked, watching the green eyes fight to focus on her.

"They are of little consequence, but until Chris Larabee's soul belongs to the darkness surrounding him, they may prove useful. We need to make sure he does not interfere."

"You know she's placed her mark on him and he is now under her protection."

The red eyes flashed with anger at the thought of the woman who's soul was still locked in the building. The woman would not be able to help this man or his friends, yet he sensed that she'd used the last of her power to heal the tracker. Her sacrifice would be in vain as the sharpshooter's soul would belong in hell once Larabee killed him.

"She cannot protect him from his friend. Once Chris Larabee is mine, the others will follow suit. I will make sure they place Tanner in the proper room. Take care of our guest, he must be prepared for what is to come."

"Yes, Master," the demon said, her voice echoing silently through Larabee's mind.

---

Galla watched as the two men lifted the unconscious tracker into their arms and carried him towards the stairs. He knew the young man was under the guardianship of the female soul who was lost within the walls of the Inn. He stood back, sensing a power from the buckskin clad form, something that was within his own soul. A strength seldom seen, yet it could be harvested when the time was right. That time would not come until Chris Larabee resided at the gates of hell. Then, not only this man, but the other two would also be under the evil that would sustain power over the world.

"Where to?" Wilmington asked.

"This way," Galla answered and proceeded up the stairs once more. At the top he turned away from room 17 and followed a narrow hallway to the very last door. He opened the door to reveal a very large, spacious room with a high backed canopy bed. The windows were covered in heavy brocade drapes that were closed until only a tiny slit of light entered the room, casting everything in lazy shadows. On one side of the window stood a highly polished six drawer dresser with an embellished wishbone mirror. A lamp was quickly lit, but the room still seemed unusually dark, but the two men didn't seem to notice as they gently deposited the tracker on top of the bed.

"Ez..." Wilmington started.

"Buck, I can take care of Vin. You go ahead and check on Chris."

"Lilith is with your friend and will assist you in any way she can. I will stay here and help Mr. Standish care for this man," Galla explained.

"Thank you," Standish said simply

"I will help you care for him. What is it you need," Galla said as the mustached man left the room. He watched as the conman eased the buckskin jacket from the unconscious man. He wanted to go to the other room, to the other man, but knew Lilith would be able to care for the chosen one. He looked at the picture on the wall opposite the bed and smiled as the eyes shifted. Clark was there, watching for their master, knowing these men could be dangerous, if not disastrous to their plans.

"Excuse me, Mr. Shedim, did you hear me?"

"I am sorry, I did not hear what you asked," Galla said impatiently.

"I asked if there was someone who could bring me some water and a washcloth and towels," the gambler told him.

"Of course. I shall see to it immediately."

Standish heard the retreating footsteps and sighed in relief. Something about this place made him nervous, but there were more pressing problems at hand. He needed to forget his own insecurities and look after the injured man. He continued to remove the restrictive clothing, smiling at how many layers the tracker seemed to be wearing.

"You always have had a problem with the cold, haven't you?" he asked softly, before pulling the thick blankets up over the lean body. He sat on the edge of the bed, wondering how long they'd have to stay in this place. Something about the beauty and richness of the place unnerved him, but he couldn't figure out why. He walked over to the window and pulled back the drapes, shocked to see the wall of shifting sand was still there. It rose and fell with the breeze, sometimes standing as high as fifty feet, while dropping occasionally to ten. There was something ominous in the way it stayed in a perfect pattern around the Inn and he wondered if it did encompass the entire area. Somehow, he had little doubt as to the force of the storm and he wondered if there was something unnatural about the way it moved.

Ezra shook off his own fears and turned away from the window. He knew some of his nervousness stemmed from a time in his youth when he was alone in an incredible mansion. The similarities were amazing and brought back some of the nightmares, but he fought to keep them at bay as he moved back to the tracker's bed.

---

Lilith studied the man lying on the bed, wondering if the dark clothing was a hint that this man really did have a dark soul. She knew he'd been marked by her master...but briefly wondered if this was another mistake. She could not voice this question...not to Columber...for as strong as she was...she was no match for the high lord of the netherworld. She looked up as a dark crow landed on the windowsill and stared at her with crimson eyes. She shivered, but nodded as a soft moan issued from the chosen one.

Care for him, Lilith, he will bring us a rich harvest. It will be ripe in blood and lead us to our rightful place in this world.

The voice was in her mind and she sent her answer in the same manner. I will care for him, Master. With your strength I will keep him here until the time is right.

His friend comes...make sure he does not get suspicious.

"Excuse, me, Ma'am, how is he?" Wilmington asked as he entered the room.

"B...Buck..."

"Hey, Chris, how are you doing?"

"...s...side h...hurts..."

"Yeah, I know." The ladies man placed a hand on Larabee's shoulder and turned to the crow haired woman standing behind him. "Ma'am, is there a doctor..."

"I'm sorry, but right now you are the only guests in our home. This Inn has been around many years, sometimes the rooms are full, but recently we have fallen on hard times."

"Damn...sorry," Wilmington apologized. "Can you help me get his coat and shirt off?"

"Certainly, What would you like me to do?"

"I'll lift him up and you see if you can ease it off of him." He released the buttons from the confining holes wincing at the blood on the makeshift bandage covering the ground in his friend's side. He knew the next move would cause more pain, but there was no other way. He lifted the trembling body forward, watching as Lilith Shedim eased the clothing from the blond.

Chris groaned softly as his long time friend held him against his chest. The burning pain in his side was almost his undoing, but he clenched his teeth and fisted his hands as he waited for the nausea to pass. His body was soon lying against the soft pillows once more and he opened his eyes when Wilmington touched his bare shoulder.

"Sorry, Pard, gotta see what's going on with your side."

"...okay..." Larabee sucked in a breath of air as the mustached man's fingers touched against the heated flesh surrounding the wound. He couldn't stop the sharp cry as the other man tried to remove the bandage.

"Shit...it's stuck..." the ladies' man swore.

"Is there anything I can do?" Lilith asked.

"Can you bring me some water and cloths?" Wilmington asked.

"Maria should already be on the way with them, but I will check to see what is taking so long." Lilith knew Maria Rodriguez would do as she was told. The young Mexican was one of the early victims of the Inn, who was now an integral part of her own personal legion of demons. Her soul was young and easily influenced with the promise of rewards of the flesh. Her brother Raul was also living at the inn, helping ready the tortured souls for the next part of the ritual which would see them residing in darkness forever. Slaves to the new power corrupting the world.

"Thank you," the scoundrel said, wincing as a set of glazed green eyes looked at him. "We'll soon have ya fixed up, Chris," the rogue told him, wishing, not for the first time that Nathan Jackson was there.

"...okay...w...where's Vin?" Larabee asked, breathing shallowly as he fought to remain conscious.

"He's just down the hall...Ez is with him?"

"...he okay?"

"He's fine, Chris, just plum wore out."

"H...hurt his b...back a...gain," the blond stated.

"Yeah...he did, but don't you go worryin' about that right now. We need to get you fixed up so we can all go home. Now why don't you close your eyes and try to sleep?"

"...okay... " he sighed painfully. "...let me know about...Vin..."

"Sure, Pard." The ladies man said, grateful when the pale lids dropped over the sea green eyes. He touched the blond's forehead, sighing as he felt the slight heat there. A shiver ran down his spine and he looked around the room, wondering why he suddenly felt cold.

---

The eyes watched from the portrait of a woman with dark hair...this was the chosen one and several minor demons fought to see what made him special. Why their master thought he would be the one to release the darkness over the earth. They did not question his choice, to do so would mean fiery hell beyond anything the mortal world had ever dreamed possible. The eyes in the picture changed from blue to green to brown to red as the demons fought for purchase beyond the room.

---

Lilith hurried down the stairs, a quickness in her step that hadn't been there in a long time. She felt the others, just at the edge of the threshold, waiting hungrily for their chance at new life. She looked up as Galla came out of the kitchen, Maria and Raul flanking him, each one holding a basin and several clean strips of material.

"Ah, there you are," Lilith said as she reached her husband.

"Is something wrong, Lilith? Has something happened to..."

"No, he is fine, but his friend is asking for the water...Maria you know where he is?"

"Yes," the smaller specter said, her body solidifying and changing as she spoke.

"Raul, you are to go to the other men. Make sure they do not interfere with our plans. They must be unaware of their fate until our time arrives," Galla warned. He stood with Lilith and watched as the twin demons, one male, and one female made their way up the spiral staircase.

"The master has chosen wisely," Galla said.

"How do you know?" Lilith asked, knowing her husband was privileged in the ways of their lord.

"Larabee has many things in his past, things that would've easily turned a normal man from the light. The fact that he was able to fight the dark influence tells of a strong soul...one that the master will defeat and make cower before him. He will not be able to resist once his defenses are worn down. The pain in his own body is just a start. He must be tested...and readied for what is to come."

"The true test will come from his friends. If we can defeat them, he will be strong. Stronger than any who have come before him."

"Yes, and that strength will help us harvest this world. Come, the master is calling us."

"What about the chosen one?"

"His friends will care for him. We must see what he wants."

"But...."

"Do you dare to question him, Lilith?"

"N...No. I would not do that."

"Then lets go and prepare things for his arrival." They walked towards a solid wall, where a shimmering gold wall sconce did little to hold back the darkness. Galla's eyes glowed with demonic evil, crimson flecks darting through the dark irises. The wall shimmered and seemed to melt in on itself revealing a steep set of stairs that seemed to go on forever. The two demons stood side by side and began to descend towards the fiery blaze below.

---

Vin became aware of a hand touching against his forehead and slowly turned towards the source of the contact. Blue eyes met green and he frowned as he looked at the conman.

"E...Ez..." he whispered softly, his throat dry.

"Vin, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you awake," the gambler said, reaching for a cloth from the basin supplied by the owner of the Inn. He placed it across the pale forehead and smiled as the blue eyes began to clear.

"Where are we?"

"A haven in the storm...an Inn of sorts."

"Inn...how?"

"I cannot explain it, My friend. All I know is it appeared in front of us as the unholy sand storm intensified," the conman used the big words he sometimes hid behind to cover his own nervous tension.

"S...sand...storm..."

"That's correct," the conman said, watching as the younger man fought to bring his memories to the front of his mind. He saw the eyes grow cold with worry and fear and sought to allay them.

"It's okay, Vin..."

"What the hell...Chris...Ez. Chris was hurt!" He tried to sit up, but a pair of strong hands forced him back no the bed.

"Yes, he is, Vin. Buck is in with him."

"Where?"

"A room just down the hall."

"I need to see him," the tracker said, forcing his upper body to move.

"Vin...you can't!"

"Like hell I can't..."

"Your back..."

"What about it?" Tanner asked, frowning at the worry on the other man's face.

"You hurt it."

"Feels fine now," the tracker assured him, frowning as he realized how true those words were.

"Are you certain?" the gambler asked as he moved to help Tanner sit on the edge of the bed.

"Ain't lyin', Ez. Back feels better'n ever. Where's Chris' room?"

"Since you do seem incredibly recovered, I shall bring you to him," Standish said. He stood beside the tracker, amazed at how lithely he stood up and moved away from the bed.

---

Buck looked up at the sound of movement just outside the door. He breathed a sigh of relief at the two men who entered the room, but frowned as he realized Tanner should not be up.

"What the hell are you doing, Vin? You shouldn't be here...Ez, I thought you were watching him!"

"I assure you I was, but our scruffy tracker seems to have made a complete recovery. Perhaps there is something sacred in these walls," Standish said, moving to the opposite side of the door as a young woman entered the room.

"I am Maria, the senora said you are in need of water and bandages?" she inquired.

"Thank you, Maria. Put them on the table," Wilmington ordered.

Vin stood beside the bed staring down at Chris. Somehow the pale, drawn features gave the usual imposing figure a fragile cast. The shirt had been removed, and he could see the nasty wound in his side. He remembered the cry of pain from Larabee when he splinter entered his body and shivered sympathetically as he knelt beside the bed.

"Ya git it out?"

"No, damn thing is embedded in there. Was just about to see if I could get to it," the rogue answered.

"...Vin..." Larabee whispered, forcing heavy eyelids to open.

"Right here, Chris."

"You okay?" the blond asked, his gaze wondering over his friend's body.

"Leastwise I'm sittin' up," he teased, his eyes crinkled in warmth.

"Your back?"

"Ain't hurtin'." The sharpshooter held the blond's gaze for a few seconds longer, knowing the older man would see the truth in his eyes.

"...good..." Larabee said weakly.

"Chris, I'm gonna take a look at ya. Think ya can stand me touchin' yer side?"

"Think so...get it out...okay?" He knew his voice sounded pleading, yet the constant burning pain in his body sapped his strength.

"Gonna try." Vin turned to see the young Mexican woman standing in the doorway. "Ya got anythin' I can give him ta help with the pain?"

"I will check with the Senora," Maria told him and hurried out of the room.

---

Anahita remembered her time with Chris Larabee, and how the short form of her name had sounded on his lips. 'Ana' he'd whispered that fateful night and she so longed to hear it again. She knew now there was nothing she could do to help this man who'd come to mean so much to her. She remembered the dance in the big hall on the night of her own agonizing death, the feel of her body being ripped in two by the demon who haunted this Inn. The man escaped that night, but would faith and light be enough to help him this time? Would his friends be the added strength needed to defeat the evil within these walls for good? Tears shimmered in her eyes, slipping from the corners to slide down her angelic face. This man...such a tortured soul, yet one that was still filled with an eternal light held the power of dark and light inside him. The time would come when he had to choose which path he would travel. She knew there were three other men in the circle of seven, and it would be up to her to guide them to the Inn. She knew she would not be around to see how this all ended, for her strength was waning and her power almost nil. This final leg of her journey would come to an end once the seven were whole again. She turned from the room, a shadowy wisp of light in the evil permeating throughout the circle of corruption.

---

Galla and Lilith stood before the high priest of the underworld. Columber's eyes were open and focused on something they did not see. The irises were an intense shade of crimson, a turbulent sea of molten lava inside a circle of white. Streaks of blood ran through the whites of the eyes until the deadly storm was turned on the two demons he'd enlisted to help him take power over the world above them.

"She has left!" Columber snapped, his elongated legs traveling the fiery path though the lakes of hell.

"Do you wish us to stop her?" Galla asked.

"Do you think you could? Do you have more power than I?" Columber spat at the creature standing next to him.

"No, Highness, I was but offering to do your bidding," Galla moved back slightly, understanding this was the most powerful of all demons. Lord and master over the darkness of hell, a demon whose power far surpassed his own.

Columber rose above them, towering over the two minions, thriving on the fear his presence had over those around him. He was the high priest of hell, the demon who sat on a throne of darkness, taking souls whenever and wherever he sensed weakness. The chosen one was far from weak, but he would beat down his defenses, take away his friends, and tear down his confidence, until he had what he wanted. He let his body return to the shape he'd chosen and still he knew he was larger in stature than the two standing before him.

"You are to make sure the three companions do not interfere with my plans for Chris Larabee."

"Yes, Highness," Lilith hissed.

"That does not give you free rein to do as you wish. I do not want them maimed or destroyed, for that would only fuel the chosen's fire. He must not be given the opportunity to gain strength from their pain. You will give them what they need to keep them here, but you will not allow them to remove the mark I have placed within him. As long as that remains within his flesh he is tied to this Inn and will take his rightful place here. Go now and see to the comfort of our guests!" Columber told them, raising a hand and waving it in front of a wall. The red stone shimmered, revealing room 17 and the men who now resided there. Larabee lay in the bed, eyes open and staring at the long haired man standing over him. Again he got the sense that these two could be a force to reckon with if given the chance, and he was briefly tempted to see just how powerful they could be together. His gaze was drawn to the two other men in the room and he realized they held a power of their own. A power that would be his as soon as the chosen one gave his soul to the dark powers of hell. He smiled, revealing blackened teeth inside bloodless lips, and watched as Larabee writhed under his unseen touch.

"Easy, Chris, Vin's just gonna take a look at you," Wilmington said, worried about the pain he saw in his friend's eyes.

Chris Larabee was beyond words now as he tried to turn his body away from his friends. The burning pain increased to an inferno of agony as he twisted away from the other's touch. He knew they offered help, but his mind and body could not comprehend why their touch seemed to increase the pain instead of lessening it. As suddenly as the deep fire ignited it was doused, but Chris could not face his friends, could not show them how much this was taking out of him. Could not show them his own weakness.

"Come on, Chris, let Vin take a look," Wilmington told him, placing a hand on Larabee's shoulder and easing him back over.

"...okay..." the blond wheezed as he struggled to remain still.

Tanner placed his hands on the heated skin surrounding the puckered, red rimmed wound in his friend's side. He ignored Larabee's sharp cry of pain as he probed the site, knowing this needed to be done in order to make the blond comfortable. He looked up from the wound and again met the green eyes so filled with misery.

"Sorry, Chris, just need ta see if'n we can take it out," the sharpshooter explained, pressing against the swollen area.

Larabee held his breath as Tanner's hands explored the wound. His stomach churned as nausea mounted and the pain intensified once more.

"Can you see anything, Vin?" Standish asked, passing the younger man a wet cloth. He could see something moving inside Larabee's side and was sickened by the way it pressed against the man's flesh until he was sure it would break through the skin.

"It's buried deep," the tracker explained.

"...c...can y...you take it o...out?" the gunslinger asked, hating the pleading quality of his own voice.

"Ain't sure...gonna try...Buck, Ez, gonna need ya ta hold 'im down."

"What will you use to take it out?" Wilmington asked.

"Gonna need ta see if'n Maria can find..."

"Gentlemen, how is he doing?" Galla asked as he entered the room, Lilith directly behind him.

"He'll be better if we can get that thing out of him," Wilmington answered angrily.

"Is there anything Galla and I can do to help?" Lilith asked softly.

"Ya got anything I can use as a probe...somethin' I can grab onto it with?" Tanner asked.

"I will check for you," Lilith told him and hurried from the room.

Chris heard the others talking, but was unable to speak as the darkness threatened to send him into a deep pit of darkness and pain. He closed his eyes, ignoring everything around him, except Vin Tanner's hand on his side, anchoring him to the world around him. The twisting moving object in his side bothered him, making him feel as if something alive was eating him from the inside out. He moaned softly and again felt Tanner's soothing touch.

---

The solemn trio rode side by side, their journey would take them north...how far or for how long they didn't know. Something was leading them, taking them to where they were needed. Josiah continued to pray for divine intervention on behalf of their friends, yet he knew this was a battle for more than just the missing peacekeepers. This battle was for the future of the world they lived in. A holy battle that could end with the world bathed in darkness, and the inhabitants writhing in pain beyond normal imagination. A deep shudder ran through his frame as they continued on towards a fight they had to win.

"Josiah, are you okay?" Jackson asked, knowing the older man was sensitive to things they only dreamed about.

"It's not me you need to worry about, Nathan. Not yet anyway...Vin, Buck, Ezra...and especially Chris. We need to pray for them...to send them our strength. The battle is only beginning...the outcome is still unknown, but it is going to take all of us, together to beat this."

"What is it we got to beat, Josiah?" Dunne asked.

"Hell, JD, we have to beat hell and all the demons who reside there in order to save Chris Larabee," the ex-preacher answered as they continued northwards.

---

Anahita's soul was anchored to the Inn, but she could sometimes escape the boundaries for short periods of time. She could travel great distances in the wink of an eye, but she could not help these men in the fight ahead of them. She would make sure they arrived for the final battle, but that would signal the end for her. Her mortal life was over long ago, but she'd chosen to stay in the hellish inn in order to be present when the man came back. The fact that he was at the inn was evidence that the great battle between light and dark would soon begin. She saw the three riders and made sure they were heading towards their destiny, smiling as she felt the older man's strength and faith. He would go far in the fight to keep the world as it was. She would follow them now, protect them from the creatures of hell in order to let them complete their journey.

---

Vin had no idea how much time passed since Maria and Lilith went in search of pain medication and the instruments he'd need. Larabee remained lying on his back, the pain evident on his face as they talked to him. The tracker looked up when he heard the two women returning.

"This is all we could find," Lilith explained as she placed several probes on the table. "I'm sorry I took so long, but I wanted to sterilize them and make some tea...not regular tea. A special blend my mother used to make when we were hurt and feverish."

"Thank ya, Ma'am," the tracker said, as Wilmington took the cup from Maria's hands.

"You're welcome, Mr. Tanner. Is there anything else we can help with?" Galla asked.

"No...we can handle it from here," Tanner told him as he watched Standish lift Larabee's head and feed him the warm liquid. He saw the grimace of distaste on the older man's face as he drank the offering, and hoped it would take away the pain he saw there.

"Alright, Maria and Lilith are seeing to making something for you to eat and also making a broth for your friend. We will check back with you shortly...but send for us if you need anything else," Galla Shedim told them, before leading the others from the room.

"Chris, we'll let ya rest fer a minute," the sharpshooter told him, hoping that the herbs would help ease the pain.

"...okay..." Larabee whispered as Standish eased his head back on the pillow.

---

"What did you put in the tea?" Galla asked as they walked down the stairs.

"It was the bark of the willow tree?" Lilith answered, smiling at the evil surrounding them. Wisps of spectral energy floated over them, tasting of the living souls within the walls, drawing strength from their essence. Weakening them without their knowledge, readying them for what was to come.

"What else?"

"There were several other ingredients that will help ensure the chosen one remains in constant pain, weakening him to the point where he can no longer fight us. We must make sure it is administered at the proper times to ensure he does not see what's happening until the time is at hand. Come, I must see to the meals and the broth for the chosen one."

---

"Chris, just hold on to me and Ez, okay?" Wilmington asked, worried about the pain and fear he saw on Larabee's face.

"...okay..."

"Chris, I wish Nathan was here," the tracker said as he lifted the probe and knelt beside his friend.

"T...trust you...do...it...do...it...God! Do it n...now, Vin..." the blond bucked on the bed as pain became his only sense.

"Do it, Vin, I don't know how long Buck and I can hold him!" the gambler hissed.

Tanner took a deep breath and cleared his mind of the pain he knew he was about to inflict on his best friend. I'm sorry, Chris...so sorry, he thought as he eased the probe into the wound.

"GOD!!!" Larabee screamed as the living thing inside him retreated from the probing instrument held securely in the tracker's hand. For a minute he thought the splinter would drill straight through his gut and out through his back, but it simply moved away from the metal, just out of reach of the sharpshooter's touch.

"Vin, hurry!" Wilmington snapped as Larabee continued to fight him.

"I'm tryin'...damn thing seems ta be movin'!" Tanner spat, once more pushing the probe inside.

"I think it is moving!" Standish observed as Tanner's gentle hand tried to reach the intruding object.

"...stop...please...stop..." Larabee grunted as again and again the embedded piece of wood evaded the probe.

"Vin, he can't take anymore...look!" the rogue cried out as the blond nearly tore away from his hold.

"The damn thing is moving!" the conman was awed by the site of the alien thing moving within Larabee's abdomen. Each thrust of the tracker's hand made the splinter move either left or right, up or down, sending violent shuddering pain through the blond.

"It has ta come out of 'im!" The sharpshooter understood he was dealing with something alive, something that far exceeded his beliefs, yet it was there. Moving under the skin, sapping Larabee's strength and his own resolve to help him. He watched as his friend's hands fisted in the other man's jacket and knew he couldn't take anymore. Realizing he couldn't do anything else he pulled the probe from Larabee's side and watched as the blond gave up the fight to stay conscious. He looked away from the sleeping face, his gaze falling once more on the wound. Very little blood was evident, yet it was rimmed with red streaks. The splinter seemed to move once more, pushing against the ravaged flesh before lying dormant in the blond's body once more.

Vin reached for the cloth in the basin of water and cleaned away the crimson fluid on Larabee's abdomen. He looked at the gunslinger's face and wondered why, even unconscious, the man seemed to be in pain. Deep lines were in evidence on his forehead, and he seemed to be biting his lip in an effort to ease his own discomfort. His gaze dropped once more to the ravaged side and he knew they'd have to wait for Jackson to get them object out. His shoulders slumped tiredly, but he would not give in to his own exhaustion.

"Vin, you did everything you could," Standish told him.

"Not enough," the tracker said softly, as he watched Larabee's hands fist in the blanket underneath him.

"What the hell is that thing?" Wilmington asked, hoping one of them had the answer, yet knowing they were as much in the dark as he was.

"I've never seen anything like it. Whatever it is seemed to be trying to get away from Vin's ministrations," the conman explained.

"That's not possible," the rogue said, shaking his head as he looked at the wound. There was nothing ominous about it now, but he knew in his heart if they tried to remove the object it would come to life once more.

"Ya saw it, Buck, we all did," Tanner said.

"Yeah, I saw it, still can't say I believe it. How do we get it out of him if the damn thing is alive?" Wilmington asked.

"I don't know. Maybe one of us could ride fer Nathan," the tracker answered.

"Vin, I don't think either of us is going anywhere until that sandstorm passes," Standish informed them as he looked out the window.

Vin turned an anxious gaze his way, before standing and joining the conman at the window. He swore softly as he saw the wall of sand, twisting as if with a life of its own just beyond the well kept landscape. There was something about the storm the way the storm seemed anchored in place, seemingly keeping them prisoner. Wilmington joined his two friends, three sets of eyes studying the writhing storm beyond the safety zone.

"There's something strange about the way it's just setting out there," the mustached man whispered.

"It's exuding qualities I've never seen before in such a storm," Standish blustered, using big words to hide his fears.

"Ain't seen one like it b'fore," the tracker agreed, studying the way the sand seemed to roll from top to bottom and side to side, yet stayed in exactly the same position. He turned back to the bed and stood straight, testing his back and amazed the pain was no longer there. Briefly he wondered if he could leave Buck and Ezra to care for Chris while he rode through the storm to bring help back.

"What are you thinking about, Vin?" Wilmington asked, seeing a new determination in the younger man's eyes.

"Ridin' ta the nearest town for a sawbones..."

"Thirty miles in the desert in a sandstorm...yeah that makes sense," was Wilmington's slightly sarcastic reply.

Vin frowned, frustrated by their inability to find a way to help their friend. Finally he looked away form the injured man and drawled softly. "Fort's close by...I can ride there. They got a doc..."

"Vin, I don't think that would be advisable. The storm seems to be growing stronger with each passing minute!" Standish exclaimed.

"Chris needs help, Ez. Ain't nothin' more ta do but get a doctor an' bring 'im 'ere," Tanner hissed, watching the gunslinger's pain streaked face.

"There's gotta be another way, Vin!" the ladies' man said, his eyes returning to the devil storm beyond the windows.

"I'm listenin' if'n ya got a better idea!" the tracker exclaimed.

"Maybe we could all ride out," the rogue said, wondering why he suddenly felt the need to escape the Inn.

"Chris can't travel, Buck," Standish supplied.

"I could hold him like before," Wilmington assured them.

"I don't know, Buck. He's lost a lot of blood and we move 'im 'round anymore he's gonna bleed out!" Tanner snapped.

"Well, if you leave for town things ain't gonna be much better. You could be stuck in that storm and killed...what happens then?"

---

Lilith stood outside room 17, listening anxiously to the conversation taking place inside. She knew she had to stop them from taking Chris Larabee from the Inn. She felt the Inn shift around her and realized the souls trapped within were trying to get through to the newcomers. Columber would not allow that to happen and she heard their anguished screams as they felt his presence in their midst. Some of the souls within the walls were strong, but they were no match for the evil that permeated the living structure. She closed off the cries of pain and returned her attention to the people in the room. She needed to take their minds off leaving and she knew the Chosen one would be the means to doing that. Closing her eyes she concentrated on sending her thoughts and projecting her image into Chris Larabee's mind.

"You must not allow them to take you away from me, Chris. Look at me...don't let them take you away. I need you! I can ease your pain...make you feel well and strong again. You want that, don't you, Chris?"

---

Chris heard the soft lilting voice inside his head and felt her presence as he slowly opened his eyes. There were voices in the room, ones he should know, but all he wanted was the soft voice that took the pain from his body. He saw her in the corner of the room, her beauty far beyond anything he'd ever seen before. Her jet black hair cascaded over her shoulder, framing her face and enhancing the softness he saw there. Her eyes were as dark as ebony, yet there was so much life in them, so much softness, that he felt lost in their depths. He didn't know her name, but he knew that he needed her, wanted her, and craved her. He struggled up in the bed, oblivious of the twisting object in his side, and the blood pooling under him. His hands reached for the vision before him.

---

Vin was the first to notice the movement on the bed and he brushed past Standish and Wilmington in his haste to stop Larabee from further harm. The distance to the bed was small and he covered it just in time to catch the blond before he tumbled to the floor.

"What the hell'd ya think yer doin'?" he snapped as Larabee struggled in his grasp.

"S...stay...her...st...stay...ne...need..."

"Ya need ta stay still!" Tanner snapped.

"Listen to Vin, Chris! Lie down and let us take care of you!" Wilmington's voice was laced with worry and fear.

"He's bleeding pretty bad again, Vin!" Standish exclaimed, reaching for the towel on the dresser.

"Put pressure on it, Ez!" the rogue ordered, frowning as Larabee continued to reach for something only he could see.

"Lie him back, Vin!" the conman ordered.

"Chris, ya need ta listen ta me!" the sharpshooter told the injured man.

---

Lilith looked towards the stairs and watched as Maria and Galla climbed the stairs towards her. She knew she'd distracted the three men from the wall erected by Columber and hoped that the meal supplied by her husband and the lower demon would be enough to keep them here until the high Priest was ready to show Larabee what was expected of him. She began pulling back her powers, knowing she'd need to renew them before long. She smiled as her husband handed her the thin broth that would be fed to the chosen one. She would make sure he drank all of the liquid, knowing it would enhance his emotions and pain, giving Columber a stronger hold over his soul.

---

Chris saw the heavenly vision fading before his eyes and renewed his efforts to get to her. His strength left him and he flopped back against the pillows, crying out as the embedded object stabbed against him before lying dormant once more.

"Vin!" Standish and Wilmington cried as they watched their friend and leader drop back on the bed.

Vin took a deep breath, finding the strength he needed to reach out and touch the gunslinger's neck. Relief washed over him as he felt the steady rhythm just below the surface.

"He's okay," Tanner said, smiling weakly as Larabee's eyelids flickered and finally opened. He waited for the glazed orbs to focus on him and wished he could take away the pain he saw in them.

"V...Vin..."

"Right here, Cowboy. How're ya feelin'?"

"...hot..."

"Yeah, ya got some fever there," the tracker said, looking up as he heard movement outside the door.

"...where...are...we...."

"Not sure...some Inn in the middle o' nowhere," the tracker answered as Vin and Buck went to help the Inn's owners with the meal they were carrying.

"Hello, my name is Lilith and I have some broth for you," the demoness said as she moved to the bed.

Chris was startled by the beautiful vision come to life before his eyes. He couldn't tear his gaze from her eyes as she moved in beside the bed. Something about her warmed him inside, yet his mind tried to grasp why it also chilled him to the bone. He wanted to touch her, but he didn't have the strength as he continued to stare as if hypnotized. His heart beat faster in his chest as she settled on the bed beside him and her hands reached out to touch his cheeks.

"You feel quite warm."

"...g...got a fever..." Larabee mumbled tiredly.

"That you do. Maria made some wonderful broth for you. Would you like to try some?" Lilith asked softly, her words as hypnotic as her gaze.

"...I...I..."

"You need to keep up your strength," the woman told him.

"She's right, Chris, you need to eat," Wilmington told him. He'd been studying the woman since she entered the room, wondering why something so beautiful lived so far from civilization.

"....try..."

"That's good, Chris. Now you three need to eat as well. I'll make sure Chris is taken care of," Lilith ordered.

"I can take..."

"Eat, V...Vin...n...need to e...eat...."

"Alright, Chris," the tracker answered, moving towards the small table where Galla and Maria set up the food and three chairs.

Chris frowned as he looked towards the younger man. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite place what it was. The sound of the soft lilting voice made him forget his thoughts as he looked back at the woman seated beside him.

"...Vin okay?"

"Vin's fine, Chris. He just needs to eat and sleep," Lilith told him as she began spooning the broth into the blond's mouth.

Chris rested against the pillows, accepting the warm, savory broth. Something tasted different, but he put it down to whatever herbs they used here. He had no idea how long it took her to feed him, but instead of growing stronger with the nourishment, his body seemed to be weaker. He wanted to pull away from the offering, but accepted spoonful after spoonful as her eyes drilled into his.

---

Vin watched as the woman cared for his friend, eating the food before him without conscious thought. He could hear Ezra and Buck eating the meal that was placed before them, wondering why he suddenly felt so tired. His gaze flicked to the window, watching the storm that remained at the periphery of his vision.

"Vin, you okay?" Wilmington asked.

"Yeah...jest tired..." the tracker answered, yawning widely.

"You and me both," Standish said, sipping at the strong black coffee. He'd been watching the woman tending to Larabee and couldn't help but wonder at how easily Chris accepted her help. He wouldn't have been surprised to find the same thoughts running through Wilmington and Tanner's minds as well. He yawned tiredly as he picked up a biscuit and nibbled at it.

"If you gentlemen would like to take advantage of our rooms I will see that they are readied for you," Galla suggested.

"Think we'll jest stay here with Chris," the tracker told him.

"Our beds are comfortable," the demon tried. He smiled inwardly as the sleeping draught they'd laced the drinks with began to take effect and Standish dropped the half eaten biscuit onto the table.

"Looks like Ez was even more tired than he knew," Wilmington observed.

"...yeah...guess so..." the sharpshooter agreed, watching as the rogue soon joined his friend in sleep. Vin knew something was wrong as his own eyes began to close and he heard a sharp cry from the injured man.

"...Chris..." he drawled, before sinking into oblivion.

---

Larabee felt he could breath again as Lilith turned her gaze from him, releasing the hypnotic hold she had on him. He watched as his friends began to fall asleep over their meals and cried out as pain wracked his body once more. The splinter of wood began to pulsate as Galla and Maria joined Lilith at his bedside. He cried out as their eyes changed and flecks of a crimson tide raced through their pupils, until it obliterated the cornea and whites as well. He tried to move away, but their hands reached for him, touching him, filling his body and mind with a pain beyond mortal imagination.

"G...God..." he cried, and was jolted as if struck by lightning.

"Your God cannot help you here, Chris Larabee. You are the Chosen One and you will soon meet your Lord and Master. The high priest of Hell will show you who you really are," Galla hissed, his fingers tracing the wound in Larabee's side, feeling the strength of the mark placed upon the lean gunslinger.

"...no..." Larabee gasped as Lilith and Maria stood on either side of Galla Shedim. The trio smiled at him, gaining strength from his misery, and he tried to turn away.

"Yes, you have come home and you have brought three wonderful sacrifices with you!" Galla continued to manipulate the embedded object, smiling as he caused the gunslinger to moan loudly as he writhed on the bed.

Chris tried to control his breathing, to supply his body with air, but the oxygen that entered his lungs burned a trail of fire down his throat. He felt consciousness slipping away as Lillith's soft voice replaced the harsh one that held nothing but pain.

"Sleep now, Chris Larabee, and when you awaken you will have no memory of this. You will not allow the others to leave or to take you out of here. You are the Chosen One and you must fulfil your destiny!"

"....chosen one..." Larabee mumbled as he slipped away.

"Well done, Lilith," Galla smiled as he released his hold on the injured side. Fresh blood rimmed the wound and he watched as his wife cleaned the area and placed a white bandage with an inverted cross embroidered on it over the wound. The cross faced inward to keep its presence away from prying eyes.

"He will sleep now, but only until Columber sends his visions to torment him. We must move the others out of the room."

"I will call upon our legions to help move them," the demon told her.

"Very well. Maria, see to their rooms."

"Yes, Mistress." The younger demoness smiled as she left the room.

"Lilith, you must replenish yourself," Galla told his wife.

"Yes, I am in need of energy. I will seek out a soul and take from it what I need."

"Why not seek what you need from one of the three at the table?"

"I would, but we both know Columber wants them left alone until the time is at hand. The Chosen One must be the one to decide their faith."

"I had forgotten," Shedim told her, his eyes darting around the room as if he feared being heard.

"You'd do well not to forget, Husband," she told him. Galla was a strong demon, stronger than most, but oft times he needed to be reminded of his rightful place. She turned her gaze from the man on the bed and walked out of the room. Her mortal body was weak and she would need to take what she needed before things grew worse. She knew the day would come when she would be so strong as to make this part unnecessary, but she would do it anyway. She enjoyed the feeling of power that came with draining a soul, and smiled as she walked towards the spiral staircase. The place she sought was below ground, off the wine cellar. There she would find what she sought. She smiled as she heard the screams and cries of those imprisoned within the walls, drawing from the pain she knew their troubled spirits felt.

---

"We need to stop for the night," Sanchez said, reining his animal to a halt.

"But you said it's important that we get there!" Dunne stated, stopping beside the older man.

"It is, Son, but it's also important that we rest and cleanse our own souls," Sanchez said, feeling a presence near them and understanding that it meant them no harm.

"Cleanse our souls? How?" the young Bostonian asked, as Jackson and Sanchez dismounted.

"There are many ways to cleanse your soul, JD. Some folks think you can only do so by speaking with a preacher or a nun or someone else involved in ministry, but that's not the case. I've been on my own a lot of years and most times there wasn't anywhere or anyone I could go to and pray. I learned a lot over the years, and one of those things was that God heard you no matter where you were. If you're willing to talk to him, he's more than willing to listen. Sometimes his answer may not always be clear, but rest assured he's heard you and is watching over you," the ex-preacher smiled as he spotted a wisp of white flickering light hovering over a circle of stones not far from where they stood. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, and darkness would soon be upon them.

"JD, take care of the horses while I get a fire going," Jackson said, watching as Sanchez walked into the twilight of early evening.

"Sure, Nate," the kid said, taking the reins and ground tying them where they could reach the water and dry grass. He frowned, wondering how Sanchez had managed to lead them to this place without even trying. The older man just rode through the day, stopping briefly to eat and read from the dog-eared bible he always carried.

"No point in questioning it, JD," Jackson explained as he watched the emotions flit across the younger man's face.

"I don't get it, Nate. How did Josiah know this was here?"

"I don't think he did, JD. Remember our dreams?"

"Yeah." Dunne answered, shivering as the images flashed through his mind.

"Do you question what you saw in them or that we have to get to the others?"

"N...no...it's just that I've never been one to pray much. Not since Mama died. I just didn't think God cared about me anymore."

"He does, JD. He cares for all of us. I think we were all brought together in Four Corners for a reason. Not just for the Seminole village, but because this day was coming. I think God took Chris' family from him so they wouldn't have to see him face the tests to come. I'm not sure, but I think whatever evil is after Chris would've used his family as a means to that end."

"Can we win against the evil, Nathan?"

"We can if we keep faith, Son, believe in what's in your heart and it'll go far to winning the battle ahead," the healer explained.

"I'll try, Nathan, just wish we knew what we're supposed to do."

"So do I, JD, so do I." Jackson turned back to watch as the older man continued further out into the desert, wondering what the ex-preacher would find out there.

---

Josiah Sanchez closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He knew something was leading them, knew they'd have to follow if they wanted to help their friends. He felt someone touch him, but not with flesh. The touch was more of a whispery hand sliding through him, touching against his heart, melding with his soul. Step after step he felt the heat of the day retreating with the chill of the night. He continued onwards, unaware of his two companions watching him from the campsite.

His legs refused to move any further and he opened his eyes. Darkness surrounded him, absolute in every way. No star shone in the sky overhead, no round moon looked down on him. Nothing seemed to be alive around him. Nothing moved, not even the breath of a wind, yet there seemed to be a chill in the air. His gaze came to rest on the whispery white puff of light ahead of him and he smiled as a woman's soft features came through and a voice whispered inside his mind.

"You must hurry, Josiah, for the time will soon be at hand. They have chosen him to be the sentinel and you must stop him before he pledges his soul and the souls of every living thing to the dark demon. Stay on the path you see in your heart and you will get there when you are needed. Keep Nathan Jackson from harm, he will be needed when this journey ends."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Anahita, and I am here to help you...all of you, but only a mortal can save Chris Larabee. My journey will end once the three of you arrive at the Inn of Lost Souls."

"Inn of Lost Souls?" Sanchez asked, knowing in his heart what the place was.

"Yes, it is an evil place and must be defeated completely this time or you and your friends, and everyone else will be doomed to live out eternity in the bowels of Hell."

"What happens to Chris if we cannot help him?"

"He will live as a mortal...a sentinel at the gates of hell. He will watch as the six of you are devoured by the demon legions...but your fate would not end there...and neither would his. Chris would be forced to make each of you a follower of the darkness. To watch as you, JD Dunne, Nathan Jackson, Buck Wilmington, Ezra Standish, and Vin Tanner become like puppets to the high priest of Hell."

"Chris Larabee has a heavy load to bear..."

"You all do, for it will be the six of you who save him...and it will be then and only then that he can face his own fight."

"We'll do what must be done," Sanchez assured her.

"I know you will, Josiah. You have a pure heart and it will go a long ways in convincing the others that what they see is real. That what you seek is through a false storm and the answers await you on the other side. I will remain with you until you reach the final leg of your journey. Rest, eat, and be strong, for the fight for mankind is very near."

"We will, Anahita," he whispered as she disappeared. He turned back to the camp, knowing sleep would be a long time in coming for all of them.

---

Chris knew it was a dream, knew it as sure as he knew his name was Chris Larabee, yet this dream was no less real. He watched as his hand reached for one of the long slender blades on the altar. Vin Tanner lay on the stone table, his wrists and ankles bound so tightly that blood pooled around them. The crimson fluid shone in the light from a thousand candles burning brightly in the chamber. He heard a voice chanting, and realized the nonsense words and phrases were issuing from his own arid mouth.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..." he shook his head, feeling the blood dripping from the mark that was placed on his forehead as he closed his eyes and tried once more to fight the power cast over him.

"You must continue...you are The Chosen One and must give us what we need. Cut out his heart so that we all will feast on his power."

Chris recognized the voice, yet could not place it. He felt the shadows moving all around him, just out of his sight, yet their power was unmistakable. Darkness began to obliterate the light and he knew he was losing the battle to remain within it. He felt his stomach churn and knew he had no choice but to obey. He lifted the knife high overhead and began the chant once more.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

---

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

Vin knew it had to be a dream, yet he could not seem to wake from it. His eyes were open and he could see Chris Larabee standing over him. He lifted his head and looked down at his body, wincing as pain erupted from his ankles and wrists. An inverted cross had been drawn over his heart and Larabee held a knife over the center of the bloody image. The tracker watched with fascination as a droplet of blood dripped from the end of Larabee's nose to land on the tip of the blade and begin to elongate until it was ready to drop onto his own bare skin. He gasped as Larabee lifted the knife high overhead and chanted in an unfamiliar tongue.

"Chris, don't do this!" he gasped as the blade began its decent towards his own body. He heard twin screams of rage and pain and his eyes drifted to the two men chained to posts on either side of the altar. They were naked, except for a strip of dark cloth wrapped loosely around the groin area. The sound of Larabee's voice brought his gaze back to the blond and he knew his life was about to be taken by his best friend, his blood brother.

"CHRIS!" he screamed.

---

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

Buck could only watch as his long time friend raised the knife over his head and began to make a descending arc towards Vin Tanner's body. He had no idea whether he was dreaming or whether this was real, but the smell of blood and flames assaulting his nostrils, spinning his senses in a sickening spiral of despair. He heard Standish fighting the restrains holding his to the two crossed stakes and knew there was nothing either of them could do to save the two men.

"CHRIS!" he screamed.

---

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

Standish shivered as he heard the hypnotic chant from Larabee, and his eyes caught on the tip of the blade as it began its journey towards the prone man on the altar. This can't be real! he thought shivering as the a drop of blood appeared on the tip of the blade. He fought against his restraints, knowing it was hopeless yet there was nothing else he could do. As if in slow motion the drop left the blade and splattered against Tanner's pale skin.

"CHRIS!" he screamed.

---

The evil watched from within as four men struggled through the dreams and nightmares wrought by the Inn itself and the demons living who resided there. Screams of pain could be heard, but not by the four men who laid in the exact same position on their beds. Arms spread wide, legs straight, sweat glistening on their chests and forehead.

Columber stood at the foot of Larabee's bed, the evil surrounding him as he chanted softly, filling the Inn with new energy as he waited for the time to be at hand.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

He smiled as three men screamed out the name of the Chosen One and Larabee showed signs of waking. His own body began to shrink until a black crow flew onto Larabee's chest and glowing red eyes invaded the blond's dreams. He continued to torment the sleeping man until Larabee's eyelids flickered and began to open.

"I have chosen well, Chris Larabee. The time is almost at hand. With those words the crow flew from the bed and out the open window. A path in the swirling, twisting sand formed and he flew through it, wanting to see if the trio were coming. They would be needed to fulfil the prophecy and defeat the power of seven.

---

The nightmares faded as the injured man shifted on the bed. For just a few seconds the evil was pushed back and pure white light spread across room seventeen. Words formed in ravaged throats as the voices cried out in unison.

"Help us!"

The lost souls watched as the words were repeated by the gunslinger and prayed that he could free them. That he truly was the Chosen One, but not the one the evil thought he was.

---

Chris opened his eyes, wondering at the strange room he was in. He felt tired beyond belief, but could not remember why. He moved on the bed, moaning softly as he was reminded of the source of the almost constant pain he was in. He closed his eyes and tried to ride out the rising tide of nausea churning through his stomach. A soft voice from the door caught his attention and he found himself lost in the dark, almost hypnotic orbs looking at him.

"Who are you?" he asked, surprised by the weak, raspy quality of his own voice.

"Hello, Chris. My name is Lilith Shedim and you are in my home. We met last night, but it is understandable that you do not remember. How are you feeling this morning?" She walked towards the bed, a tray held between her hands as she crossed the dark floor. She knew of the nightmares visited on him by Columber's power and relished the weakened spirit she felt inside him.

"...okay...tired..."

"Again, understandable. You and your friends were caught in a storm of some magnitude yesterday and you were injured." She placed the tray on the table and removed the lid from the bowl.

"I...injured?" Larabee asked, moaning as the aroma from the broth caused his stomach to rebel even more.

"That's right, your friends were very worried about you," Lilith explained.

"Where are they?" the blond searched the area, knowing something must've happened or at least one of his friends would be there when he woke up. He saw the woman smile as she placed a cloth over his chest and began feeding him whatever was in the bowl. He ate automatically, not understanding why he gave in so easily when he felt this lousy.

"They are still sleeping. As I said, yesterday was exhausting to all of you. They stayed with you until they fell asleep, Galla and I moved them to their own rooms so they could be more comfortable. Would you like me to wake them?"

"N...no...not if they're t...tired," Larabee said, as she continued to feed him the liquid from the bowl. He felt something moving inside him, and was again reminded of the wound in his side.

"Would you like me to take a look at it?" Lilith asked, placing her hand on the white bandage.

"...no...Vin will do it..." the blond moaned softly. The instant her hand touched the wound, his body began to burn. He cried out as beads of sweat formed on his brow, and Lillith's hands swept across his forehead.

"I know you're in pain, Chris..."

"...don't..." he hissed as her touch continued to cause him discomfort. He squirmed under her hands as darkness rose up to surround him and he was sent back into the nightmare realm from which he'd only just escaped.

"Sleep well, Chris, and feel the darkness where you belong," Lilith told him as she pulled the blanket over him once more.

---

They'd been riding since dawn brightened the sky, yet the three men knew the journey was only just beginning. Each man woke to the soft cry of CHRIS on the lips of the others and knew they must hurry.

Josiah led them and made sure they did not deviate from the course they were given. His eyes wondered over the stark landscape. The heat emanating from the ravaged dustbowl, with little or no life to be seen or heard. He patted the animal he rode and kept the steady pace, knowing Jackson and Dunne were following close behind. He turned slightly to the right and spotted the youngest member of the group. JD had changed since joining the family, his strength and weaknesses making him a better man than most. He turned to the left and realized Jackson also had strengths and weakness....all of them did, and it was those strengths and weaknesses that would see them through the hell that lay ahead of them.

"You okay, Josiah?" Jackson asked as he felt the older man watching him.

"I'm fine, Brother, just thinking on the journey we've undertaken."

"It's gonna be a hard one," the healer said.

"Yes, it is," Sanchez agreed turning towards the northeast once more. His eyes easily picked out a black spot high over his right shoulder. An object that seemed to be keeping pace with them, shadowing their every move.

"Josiah, is that one of your crows?" Dunne asked as he caught up to the older man.

"It's a crow, Son, but it's not just a harbinger of death. This one is death itself...a promise of hell. We won't let you have any of them...You hear me? Chris Larabee will not become a puppet to your evil!" Sanchez snarled, his voice soft, yet holding a strength the others had never heard before.

JD watched as the black bird with crimson eyes dipped towards them before flying high overhead. A loud squawk reached their ears before the bird disappeared ahead of them.

"We're on the right track," Sanchez said, taking a deep breath as he realized who had been watching them. They'd need to call upon all of their faith in order to win this battle.

"How much further?" Jackson asked.

"Unknown. I don't think we're dealing with normal times here, Nathan," Sanchez told him.

"Then how will we know we're in the right place?" the Bostonian asked.

"We'll know, Son, believe me, we'll know," the older man said, his gaze once more on the path that lay ahead of them.

---

Vin opened his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked around the room and tried to figure out where he was. His mind slowly backtracked until he remembered the flight through the hellish storm. He rubbed at his temples as more memories returned. He sat up quickly, throwing back the blankets in his haste to check on Chris Larabee.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were awake."

Tanner looked at the young woman who entered his room and recognized her from the night before.

"Maria?"

"That's right, Senor. I was just coming to see if you were awake and would like to join your friends for breakfast."

"Good morning, Vin," Wilmington said, leaning in through the door.

"Buck, where's Chris and Ezra?"

"Ezra's just gone to check on Chris. I thought I'd come get you and we'd go see if anything's changed. Maria and Lilith have brought breakfast to Chris' room."

"Let's go," Tanner stated, worried about why he couldn't remember leaving Larabee's room the night before. He stepped out the door into the hallway and realized he was at the far end of the Inn, and he knew he was under the tower. He shivered as he felt someone watching him, but when he turned towards his room he saw no one.

"You okay, Vin?" the ladies man asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Buck," he said as they reached Larabee's room. He stepped through the door and spotted the pale sleeping man in the bed. Standish was seated beside him placing a cloth over the sweat soaked forehead.

"How is he, Ez?" Wilmington asked.

"His fever's up more than yesterday," the conman told them. "Mrs. Shedim is bringing some willow bark tea and some ice."

"Ice?" Tanner asked in disbelief.

"That's correct. I was surprised as well, but then I realized nothing about this place should surprise me anymore," Standish told them as Lilith returned with the tea.

"You gentlemen need to eat and keep up your strength. I have the tea here and will get him to drink it while you partake of Maria's wonderful meal," the demoness told them.

"No, that's okay. I'll take care of 'im," Tanner told her, reaching for the cup and sitting in the chair vacated by the gambler.

"Very well. If there is anything else we can get you, don't hesitate to ask," Lilith Shedim told them before leaving the room.

Tanner reached out and touched Larabee's bare shoulder and watched as the blond showed signs of waking up. Without realizing he was doing so, the tracker slowly massaged the older man's neck in an effort to wake him. He hoped his touch would ease the blond's torment, but a soft moan told him it wasn't working.

"Ya gonna sleep the day away, Lar'bee?" He smiled as the gunslinger moved until he was facing him.

"V...Vin..."

"Right here. Got somethin' fer ya ta drink."

"...what...is...it?"

"Horse piss." The tracker grinned as he placed the cup before the slack lips. He watched the look of distaste form on the pale face as the older man fought to drink the bitter brew. Larabee drank half the cup before turning away.

"...'nough..." the blond said and shifted on the bed. The blankets slid down his chest and revealed the bandage covering the wound.

"Gonna need ta check that," the tracker warned.

"Leave it...until we g...get home."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Chris," Wilmington said from the opposite side of the bed.

"N...Nathan'll do...do it..."

"Chris, the storm is still raging outside and we don't know how long it will last. That thing in your side needs to come out post haste," Standish said, from his position at the foot of the bed.

"...it w...won't let y...you..." Larabee mumbled tiredly.

"What won't let us, Chris?" Wilmington asked.

"...a...alive...mov..ing...won't...Oh GOD!" he screamed as his body felt the shifting splinter in his side. It seemed to shift deeper and higher as if it wanted to take over every organ in is body. He felt Tanner's hand on his shoulder and anchored himself to the Texan's strength. Help me, Vin, he thought as he lost the fight to stay awake.

"Vin, any idea how to proceed?" the conman asked.

Tanner narrowed his eyes as he looked around the room. Something about this place didn't feel right, yet there was nothing he could pin down. The storm outside kept them prisoners within the walls, keeping them from seeking the help the gunslinger needed. For now they were stuck here, and he vowed to make sure nothing else happened. Shaking his head he dropped his gaze back to the injured man, unable to think beyond the pain etched on the handsome face.

"Wish I knew. Ain't sure it's a good idea ta go diggin 'round in his gut again. Least the bleedin' seems ta have stopped," the tracker explained, touching the edge of the pristine white bandage.

"Least that's somethin'," the rogue said, walking to the table and pouring three cups of coffee. He watched as Maria, and a man walked into the room.

"The Senora said you wished to have some ice," the young demoness told them.

"Yes...please..." Wilmington told her.

"Roberto, put it on the table," Maria explained. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank ya," the tracker said, wondering why he felt the need to get the two newcomers out of the room.

"Do not hesitate to send for me if you need something more," she said, following Roberto from the room.

"Vin, Chris is sleeping. Why don't you come eat," Wilmington suggested.

The tracker took one last look at the sleeping gunslinger and finally stood up. He walked across the room and sat at the table. Lifting the fork he began picking at the Mexican omelette, but the spicy aroma soon enticed his appetite until he'd devoured the meal.

---

Columber gazed out over his legion of demons. The fires of hell burnt all around them, yet they provided little or no heat. Male and female creatures were unidentifiable here in their rightful forms. Some measured less than two feet, while others measured well over ten feet tall. Some had glistening pustules covering their bodies, while others had skin as smooth as a newborn babe. There were vile creatures whose breath alone could kill the strongest of God's creatures. All were naked, as clothing was not needed to cover their flesh. His eyes came to rest on Galla and Lilith Shedim. They were two of his strongest followers and he smiled at them, a smile that held no warmth.

"The Chosen One has arrived!" His elongated hands rose above his head twisting and knotting as he opened a portal to room 17 at he top of the staircase. He heard the demonic roars of approval and smelled the lust for blood and human flesh. He watched as heads swivelled on imperfect bodies, red eyes glued to the scene in the room.

"Has he been prepared?" Columber asked, again looking at Gall and Lilith.

"He drank the potion, his body rests, but his mind is open for you, Highness!" Galla answered.

Columber panned room 17, watching as the three men seemed ensconced in the meals set before them. He knew they would remain blissfully unaware of his movements as he turned back to the man chosen as the next sentinel. His eyes their darkness, filling with liquid fire as he sent his mind in search of the weakened one so far above this chamber. He heard the hissing chant as he left the room, and the words remained with him as his demonic essence traveled freely without the weight of a body.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

---

Chris felt something invading his mind and fought against it. He heard the silken voice chanting, soon joined by others inside his head, and still he fought the exotic pull.

No! he whispered, his dreams more real than he'd ever known them to be. He opened his eyes, to find himself trapped in a nightmare realm. The landscape was littered with dead wildlife, unrecognizable in their death throes. Twisted trees, with blackened roots and red veined leaves, dropped red liquid onto the ground. The smell of death and decay followed him everywhere he turned. He knew he had to find his way out of the hell surrounding him, but no matter where he turned everything looked the same. Heat bled from the dead earth, sapping whatever moisture might be hidden within the soil or roots. He began shifting on his feet as the heat penetrated his boots and burned into his skin. The desolate landscape promised nothing and delivered less. He turned left to right, back to front as sounds finally penetrated his mind. Something was here with him, something big, something evil, something that scared him far beyond anything he'd ever known.

His feet seemed leaden as he tried to move, and he cried out as something snagged in his duster, tearing it from his body. Something warm ran down his back and he knew the sharp talons had touched not only the black material, but his skin as well. His feet seemed mired in mud as he continued to try and escape whatever was chasing him. As if in slow motion he ran ahead...stepping over the bodies where he could, but crying out when he couldn't make the leap and landing in a squelchy unrecognizable mass.

The sound returned, bringing with it more terror, more hopelessness as again the talons reached for him. This time his body stopped abruptly and he felt himself being turned. He closed his eyes, breathing in the nauseating odor that went with whatever held him captive. The words were familiar to him and he began to repeat them without realizing what he was doing.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

His eyes opened and he looked into a dark maw, filled with razor sharp teeth and glistening with blood and bile. He tried not to breath as his body was lifted from the ground until he was face to face with the vilest creature he'd ever seen.

"You are The Chosen One and you will soon take your rightful place!"

...no...

"Yes!" The taloned hand reached up and wrapped around his throat and Chris felt as if he would never breath again.

---

Mary Travis walked along the dusty street, the fresh edition of The Clarion news clutched tightly in one hand. The story on the front page was one she was proud of, yet she knew some of the people in Four Corners would not appreciate seeing the heroism displayed before them. Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner were heroes in her eyes.

"Good morning, Gloria," she said as she stepped into Potter's store.

"Good morning, Mary. Anything interesting in this morning edition?" the older woman asked, reaching for the newspaper.

"Actually, yes," the blond answered, smiling as she passed the copy across the counter.

"HOME TOWN HEROES!" the woman read the bold black headline. She looked up at the beaming newspaper woman an equal smile plastered on her own face.

"Chris and Vin saved that little girl and helped with Clark's trial. The child has now gone home with her grandparents," Mary explained.

"Oh, this is really gonna rile Mr. Conklin. It's gonna ruffle his feathers for sure. Have the others seen this?"

"N...no. Josiah came to me earlier saying they had to meet Chris and the others. Yosemite and a few others will be keeping an eye on things until hey get back."

"Did he tell you how long they'd be gone?"

"No. Josiah just told me they needed to leave right away," Mary explained, looking towards the doors as a strong wind gusted outside.

"Something's in the air," Gloria Potter said, shivering as if someone had walked over her grave.

"Yes, there is," was all Mary said. She moved towards the door, her eyes drawn to the bright orb overhead. The sun seemed to have a reddish caste to it this morning and she prayed it wasn't a harbinger of things to come.

Where are they now? she wondered as she bid good day to the storekeeper and moved quickly down the street.

---

Vin continued to use the ice to cool the gunslinger's body, but nothing seemed to work. He swore Larabee was hot enough to warm up the coldest room. The blond hadn't moved since he'd woken earlier that day, adding to their worries and fears. He looked up as Wilmington and Standish moved towards him.

"Vin, me and Ezra are gonna go see if there's a way through that thing out there!" the rogue explained.

"Ya'd best not get close ta it!" Tanner warned.

"Am I to assume you think there's something ominous with this tempest?" Standish asked, trusting the tracker's instincts.

"Somethin...jest don't know what," the Texan drawled. He looked out the window once more. His fears were well grounded as he watched the swirling maelstrom of twisting sand. It moved like nothing he'd ever seen before, the sand twisting and collapsing in onto itself only to be lifted more violently and sent even higher into the air. It spiralled left to right as if shifting of it's own volition. He knew if his two friends got too close they'd be picked up and lost inside forever.

"Yeah, that's what me and Ezra think too," the ladies' man whispered in awe of the wall of sand.

"Jest watch yer backs," the tracker ordered.

"We shall endeavor to do so," Standish assured the younger man before following the rogue through the door.

Vin turned back to the job of cooling down the gunslinger. The blond's face was pale, almost bloodless in it's sickly appearance and he cursed in frustration at the heat emanating from the lean body. He watched as Larabee's eyes began to move behind the closed lids and held his breath, hoping the older man was waking up. He was rewarded when a sharp cry left the slack lips and the eyes shot open.

---

Columber felt Larabee's returning consciousness and knew it was time to leave his mind. He repeated the chant once more, smiling as The Chosen One continued to fight him. He fled the room, smiling as he entered his body and looked out over his minions.

"He is strong and will bring us many years on this earth."

"What about the others? Is it wise to allow them to stay? Would it not be better to destroy them now?" came a hoarse hiss from a demon standing under the portal

"YOU DARE QUESTION MY PLANS?" Columber raged, fisting his left hand and sending a shock of stark red light hurtling towards the demon who'd spoken. The creature writhed under the power as the red light pulsated and grew to engulf the twisting figure until it exploded in a spray of flesh, bone and cartilage. The screams dying with the demon as its blood sizzled in the cold flames surrounding it.

"Would anyone else like to question my plans?"

"No, Highness!" issued from the writhing creatures that dominated the area.

Columber's eyes sparkled with the red light that had engulfed the lower demon and he knew there would be none who defied him. These creatures were his, they belonged in Hell, and there they would remain for eternity. He felt the lost souls residing inside the Inn and knew once The Chosen One gave over his soul, they would also be doomed to life in the fires of Hades.

"The time is almost upon us! Chris Larabee will soon make the choice between light and dark! Nothing can stop us once we dominate the world above!"

The chant began anew as Chris Larabee struggled to awaken from the nightmares that plagued him.

---

"Easy, Pard, ain't nothin' 'ere!" the Texan said, hoping to sooth the fear he saw on his friend's face.

"...s...something...Vin...chasing..." the blond's breathing was labored as he fought to remember what had filled his dreams.

"Ain't nothin' 'ere now..." he tried, but Larabee's green eyes darted left to right, searching the shadows for something only he could sense.

"...you...sure?"

"Yeah, I got yer back, Chris, ain't gonna let nothin' near ya!" the tracker vowed, rinsing the cloth in the ice water and placing it across the perspiration soaked brow.

Chris knew the younger man would try his damndest to keep that vow no matter what. But he also understood there was something here that even Tanner couldn't save him from. He glanced around the room, this time searching for two men he knew were real. Frowning he turned back to the Texan.

"Ezra and Buck?"

"Went ta check out the storm."

"No point...no way through," Larabee whispered. His eyes closed and he sank back into the nightmares once more, unaware of the worried man watching over him.

---

"This way, Ezra," Wilmington said as they exited the Inn via the main doors.

"Wouldn't it be more prudent if we split up?"

"Might be more prudent, but I don't think it's a good idea. I think we need to stick together."

"Perhaps you're right," the conman agreed, his eyes slowly taking in the extent of the storm.

"Strange."

"Did you say something, Buck?"

"Yeah, just saying it's strange how the damn thing just sits there."

"It is bizarre how it doesn't seem to come any closer, staying just outside the perimeter of the Inn itself," Standish agreed, his voice low, as if he feared being overheard by the swirling, dizzying barrier.

"It does seem to be getting higher though!" Wilmington said, walking slowly around the side of the house. He felt someone watching him and looked up at the second floor windows. The curtains were drawn, the windows closed, and he could see nothing inside.

"Are you alright?" Standish asked when the rogue came to a sudden stop.

"Yeah...just thought we were being watched."

"That does not surprise me!"

"It doesn't?"

"No. I've felt that way since our arrival," the conman told him, moving in front of the ladies man. Silence reined as the two men continued around the house, stopping several times to watch the raging wall of sand.

"The damn thing seems alive," the ladies man said, when they'd completed the circuit.

"Yes, it certainly has a malevolent quality to it."

"Malevolent?"

"Evil...malicious...vile...corrupt..."

"Oh...yeah...it does seem to be all of those. I just hope it ends soon. We need to get help for Chris."

"Yes, we do. Shall we check on the horses?"

"Might as well. Knowing Pony and Peso they're giving the stable hands a hard time."

The two men walked side by side towards the large stable and pulled open the door. The interior was dark with the only light coming from the loft at the back of the structure. Several sharp blades hung on one wall, halters and branding irons on another. Half a dozen stalls ran along the left side, and the men smiled as they heard the animals whinny softly.

"Looks like someone's missed us," Wilmington said, moving into the stall holding his big gray. He watched Standish move into the one next to him and begin running his hands through the horse's mane. He reached for some fresh hay and held it to the gray's mouth.

"At least they have good feed here," Standish observed as he moved to check on Peso.

"Probably eating better than they do in Four Corners," Wilmington agree, stepping into the stall that held Pony. He knew Yosemite provided well for the animals under his care, but he'd never seen feed so fine in his years of riding.

"Perhaps we should return to our comrades," Standish said, when they'd finished checking the horses.

"Yeah., wish there was something more we could do."

"Until this hellish gale dies there is nothing for us but to remain within the walls of the Inn." Standish led the way out of the stable as the daylight dwindled around them. This were several things that bothered him about the wall of sand. The sky above was clear blue, not a cloud in sight, yet the sun didn't seem to have passed anywhere overhead. The howling wind could barely be heard, yet the strength of the storm hadn't dissipated. Finally the thing that bothered him the most was the way the sand remained in place...not a granule seemed to have entered the Inn's domain. They made it to the door and entered the foyer once more.

---

The house seemed to breath as if its hunger was sated, but the souls within understood that the feeding had not even begun. The walls continued to undulate as darkness overtook the light of day, leaving the living structure to bathe in the absolute darkness. The land that was lush and fertile in the light of day became blackened and lifeless with the advent of night. The lost souls cried out their terror and pain as another night would be spent in the horror that permeated the interior. Millions of tiny red eyes flickered open, sighing their contentment at not having their orbs burnt by the white light of day.

---

In the shelter of the barn, four horses fought against the ropes holding them in their stalls. They felt the change in the air, the shifting from light to dark and the smell of fear surrounded them. Pony beat against the stall, Peso tugged on the ropes as their stable mates joined their struggles. A screeching sound penetrated the barn, the shrill whistle carried with it a soothing quality that affected the horses, lulling them into a sense of calm.

---

Vin looked up from bathing the heated body of the gunslinger as muffled footsteps sounded just outside the door. He didn't understand why he was so tense, but he didn't question his instincts. His hand rested against his weapon, but relaxed as Standish and Wilmington entered the room.

"How's he doin', Vin?" the rogue asked, making his way to the opposite side of the bed.

"He's hot...can't seem ta cool 'im down none," the tracker answered.

"The ice is not helping?" Standish asked.

"Nothin's helpin'. We need ta get help fer 'im!" Tanner snapped tiredly.

"Well, there ain't no way out until that damn storm ends. Me and Ez walked 'round the place. Ain't no break in it anywhere. Just seems ta sit there as if it's..."

"Waiting for something," the conman finished.

"Y...yeah," the ladies' man stammered.

"Dammit!" Tanner hissed, leaning tiredly back in the chair. His back may have felt better, but hours of sitting in this chair had done him no good. He winced and unconsciously rubbed at his lower back before looking once more at the man lying no the bed.

"Vin, you need to get some rest," Standish suggested, knowing the younger man would remain ignore his own discomfort if it meant he was helping Larabee.

"I'm..."

"...gonna go lie down and let me look after Chris," Wilmington finished with Larabeesque authority

"Buck, I don't want him left alone," Tanner gazed at the two men and knew they understood how worried he was. He could see the same fear in their eyes.

"Look, Vin, he ain't gonna be alone. You can't sit up all the time. Me and Ez can sit with him for a spell too. Now you go on and get some rest. Ezra, I'll take the first shift."

"Alright, Buck, you call me in four hours." Standish agreed

"I will," the rogue said, turning a steady gaze on the tracker. "Go on, Vin. Get some sleep. He'll need us all rested before we can figure out what to do."

"Alright, Buck, jest don't leave 'im alone," Tanner warned, standing up and moving away from the bed. He took one last look at the injured gunslinger before turning towards the door.

"I won't," the ladies man whispered as his two friends left him alone in the room. He picked up the cloth the sharpshooter had been using to wipe down the gunslinger and began talking softly to him as Larabee moaned and slowly opened his eyes.

"Hey, Chris, how're ya feelin'?"

"Buck?" the blond whispered, his voice weak and raspy.

"Right here, Pard. How're ya feelin'?" he repeated.

"...tired..."

"I can see that. You just go ahead and rest. Ol' Buck's here ta look after you." He glanced over his shoulder when he heard footsteps outside the door. He relaxed when he saw the owners standing framed in the candle light, the woman held a tray in her hands as she entered the room.

"Good evening, Mr. Wilmington, I thought maybe Mr. Larabee could use a little broth and tea."

"Thank ya, Ma'am," the rogue said, turning back to the injured man as Larabee's right hand grasped his own tightly.

"D...don't want a...any..."

"Chris, ya need to keep drinkin'. Ya lost a lot of blood and Nathan always tells us ta drink as much as we can."

"Na...Nathan h...here?" the blond asked hopefully.

"Wish he was, but he ain't. Now, I know you're not feelin' very well right now, but Mrs. Shedim has brought you some broth and tea. I'm gonna help you drink it all. Okay?"

"...guess..." Larabee said, catching sight of something out of the corner of his eye. He turned slightly, but not in time to see the shadowy figure completely. He sensed rather than saw the grotesque disfigurement at the same time Buck lifted his head and helped him sip the tea. The strong odor made him nauseous, but he continued to drink as Lillith's eyes caught and held his own. He tried to tear his gaze away, but the hypnotic flow of colors through her dark orbs kept him enthralled as he drank more and more of the offensive tea.

Buck was surprised at how easily he managed to get the liquid down Larabee's throat. Once the cup was empty he reached for the broth and began ladling spoonful after spoonful into the blond. Once the bowl was empty he placed it back on the tray and turned to his hosts.

"Thank you for your help," he told them.

"You're welcome, Mr. Wilmington. If there is anything we or our staff can do for you, please don't hesitate to let us know," Galla Shedim told him.

"You've done so much already," the rogue assured them.

"We have only done what was needed. Where are your other friends?" Lilith asked, knowing the two missing men were already in their rooms.

"Taking a break," Wilmington told her, yawning and stretching tiredly.

"You look like you could do with some sleep yourself," the demoness whispered, her soft, seductive tone holding the younger man in a hypnotic trance.

"Am kinda tired..."

"Why don't you go to your room and sleep?"

"...no...Buck...stay..." Larabee pleaded weakly, fear entering his voice as he Wilmington didn't respond to his voice.

"...am kinda...tired..."

"You need to sleep, Mr. Wilmington...close your eyes and let your body relax..."

"...relax..." the mustached man's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to regain control of his own thoughts. "...no...can't...promised Vin I'd stay..."

"You can stay, but you must sleep," Lilith warned, placing her hands against both sides of his head and watching as the lids dropped over the blue eyes.

Chris tried to help his friend as the dark haired woman placed her hands on Wilmington. He saw her smile, yet there was no warmth in it as she continued to talk in a seductive tone to the rogue. He watched as the younger man seemed to fall asleep at her touch, grateful to see his friend's face relax in sleep. He lifted his gaze from the softly snoring ladies' man and was soon entranced with the crimson ones set in the beautiful face standing above him.

"You are The Chosen One, Chris Larabee. You will take your rightful place amongst the spawn of hell," the demoness smiled, revealing a mouth filled with death and decay.

Chris winced, a soft whimper escaping his throat as the woman's breath felt like fire in his lungs. He twisted and tried to move away, but the shadowy figure he'd caught sight of earlier, strengthened and formed into a familiar figure.

"...c...columber..." he managed, crying out as the object in his side began to twist and stab at his innards.

"We meet again, Chris Larabee..."

"L...leave..."

"You want to leave?" Columber asked, moving closer to the bed.

"...yes..."

"I'm afraid that is impossible. You have been chosen, marked..." He lifted his hand and squeezed it into a fist, smiling as his victim's body arched upwards on the bed.

Chris screamed, but no sound escaped his throat. His body no longer belonged to him, but the pain was his own as Columber's fist squeezed tightly, cutting off his air supply as he did so. The splinter embedded in his body pushed against the pristine white bandage, before moving deeper into his body and lying dormant once more.

Columber continued for several more seconds before releasing his hold on the injured man's body. He smiled as Larabee dropped onto the bed, a tiny streak of red showing through the bandage. He knew the inverted cross would burn against the wound, helping to seal the damage done by the attack.

Chris dropped weakly back to the bed, gasping for air as the three figures in the room moved closer. He watched as Lillith's hand touched his side and removed the material from the wound. He lifted his head and managed to catch sight of the injury . The flesh around it was ragged and surrounded by a circle of red, yet what held his attention and sent fear through his mind was the upside down figure of a cross. He knew this was what had caused the burning sensation and closed his eyes.

Please...God...help me...

"God cannot help you here, Chris Larabee. This is my domain. You will remain here until the time comes for you to take your proper place at the gates to Hell. Until that time you and your friends will remain within the eye of the storm. You will sleep now, and when you awaken you will have no memory of what you saw. You will only remember your friend changing your bandages and helping you drink. There are many things you will need to see before the time of feasting is at hand."

Chris watched, entranced as Columber's body shrank in size, until once more he was in the form of a large black crow. The ominous bird flew up from the floor and landed on his chest, the crimson eyes bored into his own, and Larabee could not pull his gaze away.

"Sleep, Chris Larabee, for the time is not yet at hand and I must see to the men who think to rescue you."

"...no..." the blond whispered, his eyes began to close, but not before he saw Lillith's hands touch the ladies' man once more. He tried to fight Columber's hypnotic touch, but his eyelids closed as Wilmington's began to open.

"...need to get out of here...Buck," he whispered before surrendering to the nightmares wrought by the drugged tea and the all too real visions before him.

---

Lilith easily maneuvered the unconscious body to his feet and helped him back to the bed where she let him drop back to the floor. She knelt beside him, speaking softly into his right ear.

"You will remember nothing of what happened except that you changed the bandage on his wound and gave him something to drink. You will feel very relaxed and refreshed when you wake up."

Galla watched as Columber lifted his wings and flew through the open window. He moved to the bed and smiled as he placed a new strip of material over the wound. Larabee moaned and tried to move away as the inverted cross touched his ravaged flesh, but was held fast by Galla's touch on his arm. The demon secured the cloth in place before moving out of the way once more.

---

Buck shook his head and smiled at the woman who stood over him. He couldn't quite grasp where he was, and struggled to find the elusive memories. He rotated his shoulders, wondering why his body hurt so much. It wasn't something tangible, yet he felt like he'd gone a couple of rounds with one of the prize fighters he'd seen the last time he'd gone to Eagle Bend.

"What happened?" he finally asked, unable to shake the lethargy from his body and mind.

"You're in need of rest, Mr. Wilmington. You must have fallen asleep. You were lying on the floor when Galla and I came in. Perhaps you would like me to call one of your friends to sit with Mr. Larabee?" Lilith asked, helping the rogue into the chair beside Larabee's bed.

"N...no...that's okay...I'm fine now."

"Are you sure?" Galla asked, watching Lilith as she smiled sympathetically at the ladies' man.

"Yeah...feel fine now." He turned to the figure lying quietly on the bed and was relieved to see the features devoid of pain as he slept.

"Would you like something to eat?" the demoness asked softly.

""No...but I'd appreciate a coffee if that's possible."

"I shall see that there is fresh coffee available for you," Lilith told him.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"You're welcome. Would you like me to bring you some new bandages for your friend's wound?"

"No, thanks, I already changed it," the ladies' man said, missing the smile on the woman's face as she took her husband's arm and left the room. He settled into the chair to watch over his friend, shivering as he felt a chill wind on his body. He looked towards the open window and hurried to close it. He stood momentarily, watching the shifting sands, before turning back to his vigil over Chris Larabee.

---

Ezra Standish was not sure of what woke him at such an ungodly hour. He remained on the bed, enjoying the luxurious feeling of soft sheets and down filled pillows. He knew he was not in Four Corners and that this was not his usual bed. He turned on his side, hoping to return to sleep, but found himself unable to do so in spite of the comfort. Sighing heavily he slid his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, running his hands threw his disheveled hair before standing and walking to the small vanity which held a mirror and a basin of clean water. He placed one hand on either side of the washstand, and blinked his eyes in rapid succession before staring at his own reflection.

"Maude would be appalled," he mumbled, snapping around as something in the mirror seemed out of place. His eyes swept the room, wondering what his mind had been unable to register as a chill swept through his body. Taking a deep breath he turned his attention back to the mirror and splashed water on his face in an effort to clear his mind.

"Must've been a remnant of my dreams," he mused softly, reaching for the soft towel beside the basin. He wiped the material over his face, unaware of the change that came over the water in the basin. A mist rose slowly from the now frigid liquid as Standish completed his task and turned away, missing the horrid image that formed in the vapor before it dissipated and was lost to the warmer air.

Ezra pulled on his boots and hurried from the room. He planned on going straight to Larabee's room, but turned instead towards the room at the end of the hall.

---

Vin opened his eyes and knew he'd slept longer than expected. He licked at dry lips, before sitting up and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. He rubbed at his eyes, pushing away the last remnants of sleep that lingered there. He sat for a few minutes, letting his mind grasp at the memories of the last week. From the time him and Chris returned to Four Corners and decided to go to Jasper, things had gone wrong. The only good thing to come of it was that Mindy Lawrence had found some happiness at the end of her terrible ordeal.

"Vin, can I come in?"

Tanner looked towards the door and nodded to the conman, as he rubbed at his lower back once more.

"Is your back bothering you again?" Standish asked worriedly.

"No...just slept the wrong way. You checked on Chris yet?"

"I was just about to check on him, but wanted to see if you were okay first."

"I'm fine. Jest a little tired." Tanner said, reaching for his buckskin jacket on the chair beside his bed.

"What's this?" Standish asked, picking up a small card that fell from the tracker's pocket.

"What?" the tracker asked curiously.

"This fell from your pocket. Do you have any idea what it is?"

"Never saw it b'fore. What's it say?"

"My Latin is not the best, but roughly translated it means something about hell and justice, but Vin..."

"What is it, Ez?" Tanner asked, hearing something new in the gambler's voice.

"The name on the card!"

"What name?"

"Caligo Furia Columber..."

"Columber!"

"Yes, you don't suppose..."

"I don't know, Ez, but somethin' wasn't right with that lawyer."

"I agree. Vin do you mind if I keep this. Perhaps I can decipher the exact meaning of the Latin words."

"I sure as hell got no use fer it," Tanner said told him, watching as Standish put the card in his own pocket.

---

Buck shivered as if cold fingers danced on his spine. Shuddering, he quickly turned away from the bed. Nothing moved in the room as his gaze swept over the pictures on the wall. He stood up and slowly walked towards them, wondering why it felt as if the eyes followed him wherever he moved in the room. It set his nerves on end, yet he knew it had to be a trick of the artist. Or perhaps it was the way the light danced off the canvas itself that caused the illusion. He ran his fingers across several of the paintings, but found nothing that could explain why they made him nervous. He turned back towards the bed, but stopped as footsteps sounded outside the room. His hand instinctively went to his gun, even as a relieved smile was born on his face as Tanner and Standish entered the room.

"Morning," the ladies man greeted.

"Good morning, Buck. How is Chris?" Standish asked.

"He's been sleepin' most of the night. Woke up long enough for me to change his bandage and get him to drink a little. How'd you boys sleep?"

"Actually, I slept rather well," the conman said, realizing he felt as if he'd slept better than he had in a long time.

"Slep' fine, Buck. Think ya need ta do the same," the sharpshooter said, walking towards the bed and taking a seat in the chair. Larabee's face had a washed out quality to it that didn't set well with the younger man. He wanted to touch the blond to make sure he was still with them, but he couldn't do it with the two men looking on.

"Guess I could use a little shut eye. You boys'll come get me if...well you know?"

"I'll see to it personally, Buck," the gambler assured him.

"Alright...he's still got a fever and I've been using the water to try and cool im down, but it ain't working very well," the ladies man explained.

"What about the sand storm?" Tanner asked, realizing he hadn't looked outside to check on the progress of the wall of debris.

"Still there. Kept checking it through the night, but the Goddamned thing is sittin' there as if it's waitin' for something!" Wilmington answered, as he moved to the window and looked at the offending storm.

"Go, Buck, get some sleep," Standish ordered.

"I'm gone...oh, Lilith and Galla said to holler if you need anything. She's been real good about bringin' things for Chris to drink. That pot on the table holds willow bark tea with a little cane sugar in it to make it taste a little better for him," the ladies man explained before leaving he room.

"Vin, are you okay?" the conman asked softly.

"Yeah...ain't me hurtin'," Tanner answered, his hand finding its way to Larabee's forehead.

I wouldn't say that, My friend. I'd say you're hurting just as badly as our illustrious leader is right now, and I wish there was something I could do to help, Standish thought, reading the pain in the tracker's blue eyes. He understood more about the relationship between these two men than most people. Theirs was a unique friendship, one bonded by a simple look, or a single word spoken. The kind that came once in a lifetime if a man was lucky enough to recognize it for what it was. The two men worked well together and he was glad he'd taken the chance to work with them. He watched as tanner picked up the cloth and with a gentleness not often displayed washed the perspiration from Larabee's forehead.

---

Buck made his way to his room to the right of Larabee's and slipped inside the door. He closed it behind him as a wave of weariness washed over him and he sank down on the soft mattress. His body and mind were exhausted, yet he wondered if he could sleep, knowing his long time friend was in so much pain. He stood and pulled the blankets down before lying on the bed and closing his eyes. His body relaxed as his mind drifted towards sleep and he missed the changes in the room as the walls and furnishings rippled violently until the room became still once more.

Wilmington slept on, oblivious to the horror in which he slept. The mattress and bedding offered none of the promised comfort, the ladies' man wanted. The smell of putrefying flesh now permeated from the bed as spectral tendrils drifted up from below the rotted floorboards and hovered over the sleeping man. Taloned fingers formed and gently stroked the handsome face, touching the dreaming man in an effort to take some of the warmth from him. The body shivered, but did not awaken as the breath from his mouth turned cold and visible in the meager light admitted through the tattered curtains hanging haphazardly in the window.

"....ccc...cold..." the rogue mumbled through clenched teeth, but his eyes remained closed and his mind continued to be caught in dreams only he could see.

---

Josiah continued to lead the others northeast, his steady gaze taking in the distance they travelled, yet he understood they were not gaining much ground. Something seemed to be trying to delay their arrival and he wasn't sure if it was real or imaginary. He glanced over his shoulder as the loud caw of a crow reached his ears. Nothing else moved except them and the damned bird. He cursed under his breath as he felt the impossible cold surrounding him. A quick glance to either side told him his companions were unaware of his discomfort. Again he glanced over his shoulder, this time looking into red eyes that seemed a harbinger of pain and suffering, but not his own. There was something evil in the crow colored bird and he drew his gun from its holster, firing six quick shots at the hated creature. The bird simply soared high overhead, its caw one of triumph, like the laughter of a maniac who'd lopped off his own hand and relished the blood pouring from the mangled limb.

"Josiah!" Jackson shouted as the older man stared at something overhead.

"Nathan, what's wrong with him?" Dunne asked, seeing the anger and fear mingled on the ex-preacher's face.

"I don't know, JD," the healer hissed, pulling the horses to a stop as he tried to get through to his friend.

"What was he shootin' at? Ain't nothin' there that I can see."

"Josiah, come on, what's wrong? What are ya seein'?" Jackson asked, reaching for the gun clenched tightly in the big hands. What scared him was the way Sanchez continued to fire the gun in spite of the weapon being empty.

"Have to kill it...can't let it have them! Won't let him take Chris!"

"Who, Josiah? Who wants to take Chris?" Dunne asked of the cold blue eyed stranger sitting on the horse beside him.

"Apollyon...Beelzebub...Satan...the devil, JD! He's in our world right now and has set his sights on a soul that does not and never has belonged to him!" Sanchez shouted, his voice rising as he screamed at the sky overhead.

"The Devil?" the easterner whispered as if speaking the name would conjure the image. "But that's a myth...stories made up to keep little kids in line. That's what my mama told me when I had bad dreams about him."

"No, JD, it isn't." Sanchez said, tearing his gaze from the bright blue sky overhead. "Most of the stories are probably just that, but Satan is very real and he's got his claws into our friends. We can't allow him to win or humanity will never be the same."

"Satan's been around a long time...if the legends are correct and he has them..." Jackson's voice trailed off as he thought about their missing friends.

"He's going to do everything he can to make Chris give up who he is. If that happens we're not the only ones to lose. Believe me I've seen some things that are beyond the realm of normal existence and right now the fight to save Chris and the others has been laid at our feet and we cannot...must not lose!"

"We won't!' Dunne vowed, a strength in his voice hat surprised even himself.

Josiah smiled and ruffled the younger man's hair in a gesture meant to comfort. He turned his gaze towards the northeast once more and urged his horse forward, knowing the other two were beside him.

---

The Inn waited...knowing the time was coming when its darkness would spread to encompass every living creature that inhabited the world. There would be cataclysmic storms that heralded the end of light. Screams of the dying would soon become the norm as those who chose not to live in darkness were made to suffer for their decision. Those screams would feed the inhabitants of the Inn and give them what they needed to keep the light out of the sky. To blot out the heat of the sun and replace it with the icy heat of hell on earth.

---

Galla gazed at the three men in the room and knew there was something strong holding them together. He knew the High Priest would have to do something to separate them in order to work on The Chosen One. It wouldn't be long before they would initiate Chris Larabee's decent into the darkness that would enshroud his soul and blacken his heart. To do his he needed to see what hell meant, and the best way to do that would be through the men he cared about. He turned towards the stairs as Lilith joined him on the threshold, knowing the men inside would not see their ghostly images.

"They are strong!" Lilith whispered as she studied the handsome trio.

"Yes, they are, but they will not be able to help him."

"Are you so sure of that, Galla? What if we're wrong...what if he's wrong?" The words hadn't left her mouth when her dark aura was taken and twisted until screams that only the Inn could hear left her body. Hands reached for her, pulling at the tendrils of mist that made up her demonic form, taking from her whatever they could before Satan decided she'd been taught her lessen.

Galla watched as the twisted, demented body of his wife was forced into shapes he didn't think possible. He knew she would not be allowed to feast until such time as she realized who she'd questioned. Her own powers dampened by the strength of the one who controlled their very existence. He moved away as black shadows without substance moved towards her and pulled at her, dragging her through the newly formed opening in the floor. He stood his ground until they were gone, knowing there was nothing he could do to help Lilith Shedim. His gaze came back to the room and he smiled as he let his body become human again, before entering the room.

---

Vin and Ezra looked towards the door as their host entered. Neither man spoke as Shedim came towards the bed and stood opposite Vin Tanner.

"How is your friend doing?" the demon asked, his voice filled with sympathy as he touched Larabee's forehead.

"Let him be," the tracker hissed, catching the man's thick wrist and shoving it away.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to offend. I was just checking to see if he was still feverish," Shedim assured them.

"Mr. Larabee does not like to be touched," Standish explained, knowing Vin would not offer a reason for his behavior.

"I do apologize. It's just that he looks a little warm," their host explained.

"He's gonna be fine," Tanner growled, frowning as he wondered at his own crisp answers.

"I'm sure he is. I came up to see if there is anything I can do. Maybe I could sit with him while you went to get something to eat."

The steely eyed Texan didn't utter a word. Rather, he kept his jaw strong and let his gaze lock on the stranger. He moved close to Chris, took a seat, fully stating his intentions of not leaving his friend's side.

"What about you?"

"No thank you. I am in no need of..."

"Ez, why don't ya go on down. I'll stay 'ere an' make sure Chris is okay."

"I'll make a deal with you, Vin. I'll go, but only if you'll agree to eat what I bring back."

"Yeah...tha's fine."

"After you, Mr. Shedim," the gambler told him.

Vin heard the two men leave, but couldn't take his eyes off the gunslinger. Something about the way Larabee slept bothered him, but he wasn't sure what it was. His breathing seemed fine, yet there was so much heat Vin thought the blond would be breathing more rapidly, but he wasn't a doctor. He reached for the cloth once more and placed it across the gunman's head, and watched as the blond eyelashes fluttered and finally opened. Panic filtered through the pain and Larabee cried out as he tried to move on the bed.

"Chris, lie still."

"Je...sus...V...Vin!" the blond moaned and wrapped his arms around his abdomen.

"Easy..."

"...s...side...hu...hurts...God!" Larabee clenched his eyes and tried to role onto his left side and away from the pain and torment burning through his body.

"I know, Chris, but yer not doin' yerself no good by bustin' it all open agin."

"....good...tear the da...damn thing o...out..."

"I wish I could, Chris, but..."

"...no...no...buts...Vin...have to..."

"We tried, Chris. It's in too deep."

"...g...get N...Nathan..." Larabee winced and began to rock his body on the bed.

"Would if the damn storm would stop!" Tanner hissed.

"S...storm?"

"Yeah, that sandstorm is still surroundin' this place. Ain't no way through it."

"...prisoners...escape..."

"I wish we could, Chris, but there's no way," Tanner said, his anger at his inability to help his friend giving his voice an even raspier quality. He turned away, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"...not yo...your fault...hell...no one's f...fault..." the blond tried weakly.

"Can I git ya anythin'?"

"...water...thirsty..."

"How about a little horse piss then the water..."

"W...water..."

"Willow bark tea'll help with the fever and pain, Cowboy," Tanner said, moving to the table and pouring some of the warmed liquid into one of the clean cups. He hurried back to the injured man and helped him sit up, ignoring the sharply indrawn breath as Larabee sat forward.

"...god..." the blond hissed, keeping his eyes closed as he rode out the new agony invading his body.

"I gotcha, Chris," Tanner said, wishing he had something stronger to give the blond.

"...thanks...okay now..."

"I don't think so, but at least yer sittin' up." The tracker tried to add a touch of humor to his voice, but came up short as he held the gunman against him. He reached for the cup and placed it before his friend's mouth and helped him sip the tea. Even the act of swallowing caused shivers of agony to race through the lean gunslinger and Tanner knew things were bad. He managed to get most of the tea into the blond and a small amount of water followed before Larabee shook his head and closed his eyes.

"You just rest, easy, Pard, I got yer back," Tanner said, as he eased the body back .

"...always...do...side h...hurts like a son...ofabitch," Larabee mumbled as he dropped into a deep sleep. A sleep filled with nightmare images of decaying bodies twisted beyond recognition by elongated fingers and grotesque fingers ending in razor sharp nails.

"I know, Cowboy...jest wish I could do somethin' about it," he whispered as Standish appeared in the doorway, a heavily laden tray held between his hands.

"How is he?"

"He was awake...in a lotta pain," the tracker explained as he washed the evidence of spilled tea from Larabee's face.

"Getting him to drink is important, Vin, you're doing everything you can," Standish assured him as he placed the tray on the table.

"Am I, Ez? I might be able ta get through..."

"Impossible, Vin, we've been through this already. You won't be doing Chris any good by putting yourself in harm's way."

"I need..."

"You need to come eat, and then maybe you could check on the horses while I sit with Mr. Larabee," the conman ordered.

"The horses..."

"...need to be fed and since you're the expert not them I'd say it would be good for you to inspect their care!"

"Yer gettin' ta be downright bossy, Ez," Tanner said, shaking his head as he moved to the table and the gambler took his place beside Larabee's bed. The two men settled in to watch over their injured friend, neither man aware of what was happening in the room three doors down.

---

Dark crimson tendrils slipped from the cracks in the walls, floor, and ceiling. Paintings dripped blood from now empty eye sockets and mouths. The smell of centuries of death and decay permeated from every corner as the room seemed to fill with a life of it's own. One that had little, if anything to do with mortal remains.

Buck Wilmington slept on, oblivious of the crimson mist that enveloped him and seeped into his body through every pore and orifice. It entered his mind, seeking out the memories it would need to feed on when the time came. It found the most painful and horrifying pieces of the man's past and saved them for future reference, before sliding out of his body once more. The mist rose high above, watching as the man sucked in a deep breath of air before releasing it into the white mist that signaled deep cold.

The walls seemed to flicker and waver until the room returned to the image that would seem warm and comfortable when the sleeping man awoke. Finally the mist dissipated and the room grew still except for the slow rise and fall of the gentle rogue's chest.

---

It was early in the afternoon of the third day since they'd encountered the hellacious storm. Buck opened his eyes and glanced around the strange room. He rubbed at his arms, frowning as he threw the blankets off his body and sat on the edge of the bed. There was something different about the room, yet he couldn't put his hand on what it was. A shiver ran down his spine as he studied the two paintings that adorned the walls on opposite sides of the windows. The pictures depicted two women of equal beauty, with flowing brown hair and wondrous blue eyes. They were enough alike to be twins, yet there seemed to be a difference about them so subtle it was barely noticeable. Buck stood up and walked towards the two portraits and understood what bothered him about them. One showed a woman surrounded by light, her hair surrounding her head in a golden halo, while her eyes danced with a warmth that spread through him. It was the second portrait that caught and held his attention.

In this one the woman's hair shone with light, yet the darkness in her eyes was unmistakable, as was the hatred harbored in the beautiful face. Somehow he knew this woman would kill easily and do it with malicious cruelty. He studied the dark depths of the icy blue eyes, which drew him within as if it were alive. Unconsciously his hands reached up and touched the canvas. He didn't notice the tendrils of mist reaching out and wrapping around his fingers as a whisper soft voice spoke in his mind.

"Beautiful," Wilmington whispered as a inner warmth wrapped around him in spite of the cold air in the room.

---

Vin moved through the stable, checking the horses. As soon as he'd entered the building Pony and Peso's heads snapped up and whinnied at him. . The sharpshooter smiled at the greeting and couldn't help but relax in their company. He loved the loyalty Peso gave him and knew he'd earned it, much the same way he'd earned the friendships of the six men he rode with. He patted Peso's mane as he moved into the stall and made sure the animal had everything he needed. It didn't take long to check the four horses and he frowned as he realized they were the only animals in the stable.

The Texan quickly moved to the unused stalls, frowning as he stopped in front of the one to the left of Peso.

"What the hell?"

His voice sounded strange in the stable as he entered the stall. Unlike the four occupied ones, this one was in ill repair, the floorboards rotted and bent. Mildewed hay and what could only be feces adding to the foul odor that suddenly assaulted his nostrils, but that wasn't what caused the expletive. Vin moved towards the pile of bones at the back and knelt in front of the altar of bones. A shiver ran through his lean frame as he realized what he was looking at. Some skeletal structures could only be those of small animals, rodents and birds, but there were several that sent fear into his heart. A hand, the five digits still intact, lay atop the pile, the golden ring glistening as a hint of light caught it. The tracker instincts, honed from years of searching for wanted men and women kicked in and he quickly found several other bones that could only be from human remains. He pushed away as the putrid scent of decay intensified, causing his stomach to churn and his head to spin. Reaching for the barrier between this one and the one holding Peso, Vin managed to turn away from the sickening scene before him. But not before his mind caught and held the final picture that made his stomach empty. A body, its bones not quite picked clean lay sprawled on top of the deadly altar. He'd seen movement and knew the maggots were making quick work of the remaining flesh. Shaking away the queasiness that continued to roll through his body, Vin looked at the horses. He prayed they's be safe as he rushed out of the stable.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, he leaned heavily on his knees until his head cleared. Looking towards the storm, he straightened up and looked towards the house as his instincts kicked in and fear stabbed at his mind. Something was not right, and somehow he had to find a way to get them out of there before it was too late. He headed back to the house, already feeling as if it might be too late for the gunslinger, but vowing to do everything in his power to get the blond away from the evil he now felt resided in this structure. He hadn't felt right about leaving Chris' side, yet he couldn't understand why. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ezra Standish, it was something that seemed to be ingrained in him. He had to take care of things himself, much the same as he'd been doing all his life.

Vin pushed open the door, feeling a slight chill as he rushed inside and hurried to the bottom of the staircase. He paused as a soft whisper of voices reached his ears. He recognized the male voice, but the other, decidedly female sounded like fingernails being scraped across a slate board. He shivered, then took the stairs two at a time, stopping at the very top as again he heard voices from Wilmington's room. The scratchy voice spoke and the sharpshooter stood for several seconds, wondering at the dreamy quality to the rogue's answers. Something wasn't right with the Inn, and now he knew his friends were in danger from something beyond the world they knew. Shaking off his fears he walked to towards the man's room, praying that he was okay and maybe dreaming, but the sound of a cackling female voice set his nerves on edge.

---

Buck stared at the picture, oblivious of the hypnotic voice that seemed to be inside his head. His body reacted to something only he could feel as fingers danced along the length of his well toned body. Lips touched up against his and he tasted something strong, something he couldn't place, yet it intoxicated him even more than the voice. The scent of flowers assaulted his nostrils, yet there was something underlying the odor that repulsed him. He tried to pull away, but the sweet voice continued to hold him enraptured. He watched as a woman formed in front of him, frowning briefly when he realized he could see right through her. The beauty's lips moved and her words seemed to stab at his mind and he groaned as his body reacted instinctively to the woman's closeness.

"Come to me, Buck Wilmington..."

"Beautiful...an angel...who are you?"

"You may call me Angel if that is your wish..."

"Angel...suits you..." Wilmington whispered longingly as her lips brushed against his, bringing a numbness with the touch.

"Come to me..."

"How?"

"Just touch me...reach out for me..."

---

The Texan reached the door just as the big man reached for the hideous creature standing before him. Vin felt frozen in time as he stood framed in the doorway. He shivered as the cold tendrils slipped around him, wrapping him in a blanket of ice. Again the cackling voice cut through his stupor and he pulled away from the cold and moved into the room. Tanner watched as Wilmington's arms seemed to move of their own accord. He raced to the other man even as the fingers seemed to dissolve into the woman. His eyes grew wide, his Adam's apple bobbing, sweat glistening on his brow in spite of the frigid air as he finally found his voice.

"BUCK!"

"Don't listen to him, Buck Wilmington, come to me...join us..."

"Join you...Angel...need you..."

---

Chris heard the desperate cry and opened his eyes in time to see the panicked gambler race for the door. Standish stood his ground as he looked into the hall and then back towards the bed and Larabee understood why he didn't go to the other men's aid.

"That was Vin!" the blond head swiveled. "Buck...something's happened...GO!"

"I can't leave you..."

---

Vin knew he was losing the ladies' man and was desperate to get him away from the writhing apparition that held him enthralled. The creatures eyes were crimson coals set in a ghastly white face, her arms were ripe with pustules and the stench of the grave surrounded her. He reached for the older man, crying out when he felt something nip at his hand. Oblivious of the blood now seeping between his fingers, the tracker grabbed once more and was rewarded as this time his arms wrapped around the well honed chest. Teeth gritted, muscles in his neck corded, eyes filled with hatred and determination, body rock solid, Vin Tanner was a man fighting for his friend's life in a room racked with evil. The ladies' man seemed unaware of his own desperate plight as more and more of his body began to dissolve. Desperate now, the Tracker found the air to scream out one word, before he felt himself losing ground with the ladies' man's plight.

"Buuuucccckkk!" he ground out through clenched lips

---

Chris became desperate as he recognized the tracker's voice weakly crying out Wilmington's name. His eyes grew wide and imploring as he turned towards the gambler. He knew the other man was being pulled in two different directions as the younger man glanced from him to the doorway. He sat up a little further in the bed, praying he could convince Standish to go to the other man.

"Dammit...Buck's in trouble...go..."

"Chris, I don't think I can..."

A Banshee like wail reverberated off the walls, cutting off anything the gambler might have said.

"GO!" Larabee ordered, adding desperation to his pleading voice.

"I'll be back soon..." Taking one last look at the injured man, the gambler turned away, knowing whatever decision he made was going to weigh heavily on his mind for the rest of his life.

JD knew they had to stop before the horses collapsed, but he felt an air of danger and the need to hasten their journey. He didn't want to be the one to cause their delay, but there was no choice as he saw Josiah's hardy steed stumble for the third time. He rode up beside the bigger man and waited for the ex-preacher to acknowledge his presence. The man's eyes were directed straight ahead, as if entranced by something only he could see.

"Josiah, we gotta stop," Dunne said sharply, hoping to get through whatever thoughts the man seemed to be harboring. "Did you hear me, Josiah?"

"I hear you and I know you're right, JD," Sanchez said, wearily pulling the horse to a stop. His shoulders slumped as he eyed the darkening horizon and he wished there was some way they could ride through the night.

"Nothing you can do about this, Josiah," Jackson said as he joined the two men. "The horses need to rest and so do we."

Sanchez spotted the darker outline of the bird sailing high overhead and his body trembled with determination.

"We won't let you take them!" he vowed, before dismounting and leaning heavily against his horse. He watched as the bird spiraled ever higher and disappeared into the night. His faith was no longer in question as he realized the upcoming fight was a tempest between heaven and hell, good and evil, and the soul of one man stood between light and dark. He felt a soft touch on his arm and turned to see wise hazel eyes set in an innocent face, yet he knew JD Dunne was not as innocent as it sometimes seemed. The young Bostonian had learned many things before he'd joined them to protect the Seminole village, yet none of them would prepare him for the upcoming battle. Taking a deep breath he placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and nodded towards a clump of boulders that could protect them from the wind that seemed to be picking up force.

---

Vin's eyes grew wide as he felt himself losing his grip on the bigger man. Wilmington continued to stare at something only he was seeing and Vin knew the apparition was influencing his mind. The pain that had been dormant in his back came to life with renewed vigor as he fought to keep from losing his grip on the other man. Grunting from the exertion he again felt something grab at his arm and another thin stream of blood ran from a shallow wound there. He lifted his head, his eyes meeting the darkly glistening orbs set in the hideous face and renewed his grip as he felt the rogue being pulled away. He knew he could not let her win and cursed through tightly clenched teeth.

"Fuck off!"

"HE IS NO LONGER YOURS!" the demoness shrieked as she twisted around to face him.

"Ain't yers..."

"Vin!" Standish called as he raced towards the room, sliding to a stop as a scream of rage echoed off the walls. Ezra stood framed in the door, much the same way Tanner had done earlier. Shocked the gambler could only stare as he watched Vin struggle to hold onto their friend as a shadowy specter with crow colored hair and sharp talons reached for them. He saw blood on the tracker's arm and watched as a single drop landed on the floor only to disappear as if something thirsty for blood eagerly swallowed it up. The ghostly figure turned towards him, screaming inside his skull as the mouth opened to reveal rows of dagger like teeth embedded in bloodied gums. Sweat soaked through his shirt as he tried to move on trembling legs, soft sounds emanating from his suddenly arid throat.

Vin heard the soft mewling sounds and caught sight of the frozen gambler. He knew he could not hold on much longer, but could not find the strength to call to him. Their eyes met and he sent a silent plea that finally got the other man moving.

Ezra moved as if in slow motion, but soon added his strength to the sharpshooter's and pulled with as much strength as he could find. Finally, as if in slow motion the two men gained ground on the otherworldly creature and heard her scream in rage. The sound emanated from everywhere, drilling into their minds as she fought to hold onto the semi enthralled man. In a last ditch attempt the two men cried out for help!

"Please God!" The words left both men at the exact same time and they were rewarded when their plea seemed to be answered. The creature's hold loosened momentarily and an angered cry of pain emanated from her as she shrank back into the canvas she'd emerged from.

A wind, one not of this world blew strongly against the three men, sending their bodies crashing into the wall to the left of the bed Wilmington had resided in.

---

Chris tried desperately to climb out of the bed as a howling scream thrummed from the walls surrounding him. Shadowy figures closed in on him and he knew he had to escape. More movement appeared just outside his door and his fear intensified as Lilith and Galla Shedim entered his room. The female was no longer the beauty he'd first seen, but was covered in sores that oozed a pestilence that wreaked of decay.

Lilith moved to the bed as the spectral creatures formed a wall of resistance that would keep the others at bay. She looked down at the chosen one and smiled as her fingers traced along the strong jaw, stopping at the right cheek as she heard the soft moan escape his pasty mouth. She felt the house shifting, changing and watched as the offering in Larabee's body moved with it. She smiled as he cried out and his hands sought out the source of his misery. The room began to grow dark as the door slowly became solid, the window darkened, and the wishbone mirror grew to encompass the opposite wall. The time was almost at hand. A time when hell would roam the earth in the form of a legion of demons that had never before been heard of. She looked at the wound once more and reached for the gunslinger's wrists. She smiled as the eyes opened and looked at her.

"Be still, Chris Larabee, you are about to see the light....the dark light...the one that owns you, body and soul!"

NO! he screamed, his voice filled with desperation and fear as he struggled to escape the nightmarish vision that stood over him. His own cry seemed to be taken up by others and he finally understood where the voices he'd been hearing came from.

"Help us!"

---

Vin opened his eyes and forced his way to shaky legs, glad to see the other two doing the same. He watched Wilmington for several seconds, but before he could speak a new sound reached their ears. A plea so mournful it set his nerves on end.

"Jesus, was that..." Buck groaned.

"Chris!" The three friends screamed as one.

---

"Chris!" Sanchez, Jackson, and Dunne's cry echoed through the desolate landscape. They'd eaten the small dinner the young Bostonian had prepared, but only because they knew they'd need the strength. The trio had been sitting within the circle of boulders, watching the shadows dancing around them as a bitter wind sometimes blew through the narrow opening. Each man had been unaware of the trance each of them seemed to be in, but when the name was cried out, they knew time was running out. Without a word they doused the fire and readied the horses for the journey ahead. A journey that could end in darkness for not only themselves, but for the world around them as well.

---

The three frantic men raced to the door, doing a macabre dance as they tried to go through it at the same time.

"What the hell's that?" the scoundrel asked as a skull piercing scream reached their ears. It echoed through the Inn, bringing with it the sound of more screams from ravaged throats and sending each man racing towards room 17.

"Sonofabitch! Vin hissed, slamming his hands on the wall, now solid where a door should be.

"Where is it?" Standish swore as his hands traveled over the space where a door had stood earlier in the day.

"It's gone!" the tracker snapped, his hands flying expertly over the smooth wood.

A cry of pain reached their ears and an equally painful moaning keened through the walls, echoing through their skulls as the house seemed to taunt them with the life they needed to save. Their efforts to find the door became desperate as Larabee's life seemed to hang in the balance.

---

Chris cried out as the splinter in his side seemed to mirror the movement of the house. Each breath he took sent shockwaves through his nerves, and nausea churning through his stomach.

"God!" he cried out and screamed as a winged creature with the serpent's tongue floated above him.

"There is no God here, Chris Larabee. God cannot help you...you have been chosen to begin the feast of the new harvest. There will be a new order on your world. An order that will reign for a thousand years, longer if we continue to grow strong and you bring the gifts with you when you become the sentinel. The chosen one...The cherished one..."

"I w...won't..."

"Yes, Chris, you will, for you there has never been a choice. You were born to see darkness reach up and devour the light. Look into your heart and you will see the evidence there! But first! Look, Chris Larabee, look at your friends and know they will soon be given the test to see if they are as worthy as you."

Chris couldn't tear his eyes from the mirror in front of him. Three men, three friends, worked their hands along the wall as if seeking out something. He could tell they were worried and he knew they were searching for him. He tried to sit up, but his hands were suddenly wrapped by the white bed sheet and pulled up to the headboard where he watched silently as the sheet became knotted to the heavy wooden post. He struggled to pull free, his legs bending with the effort to push his body up in the bed. He watched in shock as the lower half of the bed sheet took on a life of its own and began to slither towards his ankles. His body trembled as his gaze remained locked on the surreal scene before him as the corners of the sheets wrapped around his ankles. The sheets knotted tightly before the end trailed away towards the lower post and his legs were pulled straight out from his body.

Chris heard the creature above him cackling as she watched his weak fight. She floated around him and finally landed on the floor beside his bed.

"We must make sure you can see what is happening to your friends, for they will be given several trials to overcome. Those trials will grow worse until you decide to relinquish your soul and take your rightful place. Our master will be here soon and you will be ready for him."

Chris watched silently as she lifted him and placed several dark pillows beneath his blond head. A strip of material appeared in her hands and she placed it across his forehead. Chris tried to turn his head, but was stopped as she brought the ends to the edge of the posts and secured them there. He realized he could no longer move and was forced to watch the scene in the hallway behind his room. A scene that showed just how much his three friends were willing to sacrifice to get to him.

---

"Where the hell is it?" Wilmington shouted as he moved along the wall. They'd been searching the area for five minutes with no luck. The other doors were where they should be but there was no sign of room 17 or its occupant.

"CHRIS! Shit!" Tanner cursed as no answer was forthcoming. His hands slid along the wall, seeking out any crack that would reveal the door that had been there a short time ago.

"I'm going to get someone and find out where the damn room is!" Standish told them, heading for the stairs.

"Alright, Ez, just watch your back!" the rogue warned as he moved back and searched the walls from a short distance away.

"Knew somethin' was wrong with this place..."

"Yeah, I think we all did, but right now's not the time. We gotta get to him!"

"Fuckin' door can't just disappear!" Tanner cursed in frustration.

"Well, this one's gone somewhere!" The older man began pounding on the solid wall and calling for their missing friend.

---

"He is coming!" Galla smiled, revealing row upon of blackened incisors as spittle dripped from his thin lips.

"The Lord of Darkness is coming!" the demons hissed as they circled Larabee's bed. The mirror on the wall continued to show Larabee's friends in their desperate search for an entrance. The images blurred momentarily as a shadow formed at the foot of the bed, rising as smoke from a fire as it grew to encompass the wall.

Chris swallowed painfully as he watched the grotesque fiends writhe as they began to chant. Without realizing what was happening his lips moved and the words spewed forth even as the newcomer solidified into a familiar form.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

"OMNI INSI RASHANDO SOMNI!" The screeching voice rose above the others and Chris screamed as a taloned hand reached out to touch his bare chest.

"NO! GOD NO!"

---

"CHRIS!" Wilmington and Tanner screamed as the cry of pain echoed off the walls. The frantic search revealed nothing and both men were becoming desperate.

"We've got to do something!" the rogue raged.

"We need something to tear down the fuckin' wall!" Tanner cursed as he turned towards the stairs.

"Where the hell're ya going?" Wilmington snapped.

"Saw an axe in the stable. Bust through the wall with it."

"Great! See if Ezra's found the damn owners and send him up here!" The ladies man heard Tanner's retreating footsteps and turned back to the task of getting to his friend.

"Chris! We're coming! Just hold on!"

---

Chris heard the muffled cries from his friend, but he could answer. A soft whimper of pain hissed through clenched teeth as the demon before him glowed darkly against the flickering light of the candles. An elongated finger rested against the blond's heaving chest as he stared into crimson colored orbs that set his body on fire. The demon didn't speak, yet Chris knew it was watching him, searching for some weakness in order to control his mind in the same way it now controlled his body. His gaze dropped down as he felt the biting puncture wound and he cried out. He watched entranced as a thin trail of blood crept to the top of his skin as the newcomer pressed the nail along the center of his chest. The creature continued downwards for six inches before lifting his nail and placing it almost at the bottom of the wound. He made a second shallow slash that crossed the first and Chris realized he was looking at a cross only this one was wrong. It was upside down and burned even as the demon lifted his hand.

"You now bare the mark that signifies your new position..."

"F...fuck you, C...Co...lum...ber!" the blond ground out through his teeth as he tried to draw strength from within himself.

"Do not speak to your Master in such manner, Christopher. Others have found out what happens when you try to fight my powers." The words were soft, but the threat was undeniable as Columber fisted his hand and a scream of pain reached Larabee's ears. The mirror showed the hallway, where Buck Wilmington twisted in agony on the floor his hand clutching at his chest as the demon squeezed tighter and tighter.

"L...leave h...him a...alone!" the blond cried as Wilmington's cries of pain continued.

---

Ezra searched the house, his heart in his throat as he moved through the rapidly decaying structure. The main foyer that once seemed so inviting now showed its true setting. The walls were bare, except for several spider webs. The floors and whatever furniture remained was covered in a layer of dust, so thick he could pick it up in handfuls. He trudged through the empty corridor until he found the door that would lead him into the kitchen. He pushed the creaking barrier and entered the room, his stomach churning as the stench of age and decay met his sensitive nostrils. He waved at the silken strands that covered his face as he entered the room. Darkness surrounded him and he panicked momentarily until he heard Tanner's voice calling him.

"Ezra!"

"In here!"

"Jesus, what the hell's goin' on?" Tanner cursed as he made his way towards the other man's voice. The darkness made even walking dangerous, but he stumbled along, needing to know he was not alone in the things he was seeing. Something scurried across the floor in front of him and he shivered as a huge rat crossed his path.

"I have no idea, but conditions here are definitely deplorable," Standish said, falling back on his use of vocabulary to hide his nervousness. He jumped as something moved beside him, breathing a sigh of relief when Tanner's hand touched his shoulder.

"Ya find 'em?"

"I haven't found anyone. Vin, something tells me we need to get to Chris and get him and us the hell out of here! I think I'd rather brave that hellacious storm rather than stay here in this den of evil a minute longer!"

"Ya feel it too?"

"Yes!" Standish replied softly as if to acknowledge his fears would bring them crashing down on their heads.

The two turned back the way they'd come as a scream rumbled through the now dilapidated structure. Without a word they raced along the corridor and back to the foyer. Ignoring the decrepit stairs the duo started up them, hearts racing in their chest. Oblivious of everything except the cries of pain from the man writhing on the floor.

"Buck!" Tanner called, kneeling beside the rogue.

"V...Vin..." Wilmington stammered as he wrapped his arms tightly across his chest.

"What's wrong, Buck?" the gambler asked, kneeling on the opposite side.

"Don't know...heard Chris cry o...out...feel l...like c...chest ex...plodded..."

---

"See your friends, Christopher. They've forgotten all about you," Columber told him, smiling as he continued to clench his fist.

"N...no! bas...tard...leave them alone!"

"I'm afraid that is out of the question! They have a part to perform!"

"Its m...me y...you want...let th...them go and I'll do anything you want!" Larabee insisted.

"If it were only that easy, Christopher, but alas it is not. They have to face their own trials and only when they have been deemed as worthy as you will the ceremony come to its proper conclusion."

Larabee watched, entranced as Vin and Ezra joined Buck beyond the mirror and wished there was some way he could help them. He swallowed painfully as the structure shifted once more, the splinter moved with it and he cried out in pain.

---

Vin tried to see what was causing the problem with his friend, yet Buck couldn't seem to stand his touch as he screamed each time the tracker's fingers lit on part of his body. His gaze locked with the gambler's and together they reached for their friend.

"Buck, we need to see what's going on," Standish explained.

"...no...don't...Je...sus..." Wilmington rocked back and forth as he tried to control the burning sensation racing through him.

---

Columber's red eyes glowed as the flickering candle light mirrored the movement of his legion of demons. The time was drawing close and his black heart beat a staccato rhythm at the thought of the coming feast and what it meant to them. He released his clenched fist and placed his elongated fingers on Larabee's forehead.

---

As suddenly as the pain struck it stopped and Wilmington drew his first real breath of air since the agony burst through his chest.

"Jesus..." the rogue cried as he staggered to his feet.

"Are you okay?" Standish asked.

"Yeah...don't know what that was." He turned towards the two men and studied their faces before asking. "Did you find anything?"

"We found that this place is not what it first appeared to be," the gambler explained.

"What the hell are you talking about?" the ladies man asked.

"Look 'round, Buck," Tanner ordered softly.

Wilmington's eyes widened as he gazed around the upper floor of the Inn. The walls reeked of decay and decomposed flesh. Nausea roiled through him as the vile air entered his lungs. The walls were covered in crimson colored stains and as they watched tiny slits opened and a viscous fluid oozed from them to slowly drip down the walls.

"What the hell's going on?" The scoundrel cried as more and more openings appeared.

"I believe Hell is the correct word here," Standish said, unconsciously stepping back from the wall.

"Vin, did you get that damn axe?" the older man snapped.

"No..."

"Why the fuck not?" Wilmington asked.

"Couldn't find a way out outta the house!"

"What?" Standish asked in disbelief.

"The door ain't there no more."

"Alright, we need to come up with a plan to get to Chris and get outta here!" Wilmington said, his hand rubbing at his chest as he remembered the unbearable sense of having his heart crushed.

"You sure you're alright?" Standish asked.

"Yeah...think so. Look, Vin had the right idea. We need to tear this wall down."

"I agree, but without an axe...wait a minute!" Buck cried searching the landing they stood on.

"What's wrong?" The gambler asked, as blue eyes darted left and right.

"Where the hell is Vin?"

"He's right..." the conman grew quiet as he took in the now empty space behind him. "Where would he have gone?"

"I don't know!" Wilmington spat angrily as he began searching for the second missing man.

---

"Watch, Christopher! See what is happening to Vin Tanner and know that it is only the first of many trials he is to endure!" Columber ordered.

Chris wanted to close his eyes, but he watched as the mirror shimmered and the images of Buck Wilmington and Ezra Standish disappeared. The mirror quivered until a new image solidified and Chris cried out as he watched the scene being played out somewhere within the four walls.

"...n...no..." he whispered, wishing he could help the tracker, as the young man opened his eyes to a new horror.

---

Vin opened his eyes and blinked at the unnatural brightness surrounding him. He tried to remember where he was, but his mind was not cooperating. Forcing his numbed legs under him he managed to climb to his feet and look around the cone shaped room he was in. He examined the structure, using his hands and fingers to touch the sides, but finding nothing that signalled a way out. He looked up, squinting against the harsh light beating down on him from the narrow opening twenty feet above his head. Voices reached his ears, but the words were unintelligible as he shook his head to clear it.

The tracker had no idea how long he stood there, trying to remember where he was and why he was in such a strange place. A sharp trilling screech reached his ears and he moaned softly as the murky depths of his mind cleared and memory returned. The last thing he remembered was being with Buck and Ezra and trying to find Chris. Buck had been talking and he'd turned away, looking into the most beautiful set of azure blue eyes. The child's strawberry blond hair hung down past her shoulders, as her hands enticed him to follow her. He'd been so entranced by the apparition that everything around him disappeared and he'd followed the blue eyed girl to the top of the stairs. That was the last he recalled before waking up here. For all he knew the others were dead and he was imprisoned here for all eternity.

"CHRIS! Buck! Ezra!" he screamed as he beat his fists against the close walls in frustration. Realizing he wasn't doing anyone any good he sank to the ground and surveyed the area above him. The cone was narrow, with just enough room for him to sit with his legs slightly bent. Vin knew there was only one way out and as he realized this the walls seemed to come to life with a dark putrid liquid. It leached from the wall and pooled around him, a sickening sludge that began to rise.

"Fuck!" The sharpshooter cursed as he stood to his full height and tried to lift his left leg out of the thick sucking mire he was trapped in. The muck had a horrid odor that reminded him of the bloodied carcasses of slaughtered buffalo left in the sun too long. Pain ripped through his gut and he doubled over. He turned his head to the side as a stream of noxious vomit erupted leaving him weak and trembling. He forced his fuzzy head to clear, trying to find an answer before the rising stream of bile overtook him.

---

Chris tried to move, but was held tight to the bed as he watched the tracker being slowly enveloped in the dark fluid oozing from the wall. He watched as the younger man turned to the side and vomited into the stuff. Chris began to pray, but the hand on his forehead began to burn his skin even as the muck reached the tracker's waist.

"VIN!" he cried out as the level rose even higher, engulfing the sharpshooter's abdomen as it continued to seep from the walls.

---

The Texan knew he had to do something and he leaned against the cone shape, lifting his left leg from the sludge and placing it against the oozing wall. The stench was overpowering now as more and more of it surrounded him, but he would not give up. No way in Hell this place would be his grave. He tried to lift his right leg from the gelatinous fluid, but it felt as if it was frozen in place. He fought with everything he had as the unholy tide of brackish muck reached his neck.

---

Chris felt as if his heart was being torn from his chest as he watched Vin's body rapidly disappearing. The sludge was over his chin, now, and the blond felt tears in his eyes for another life he could not save.

"Say goodbye to your friend, Larabee!" Columber smiled as the chant began once more and even Larabee's lips moved with the familiar sound.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni..."

"It won't be long now. It seems Vin Tanner was unworthy..."

Chris didn't dignify the ridiculous statement with a reply. His eyes were trained on the anxious blue eyes, just before the horrid mess from Hell swallowed him up.

"...sorry...cow...boy..." he whispered in a broken voice.

---

The sharpshooter knew there were only two choices. To give in and drown in the repulsive sludge, or keep fighting. The decision was made before the choices were completed and again he tried to lift his right leg. He choked and spat out the invading substance, groaning through grated teeth. Something touched against the bottom of his foot, yet he could not take the time to think about what it meant. Finally his leg came off the floor and stretched out with his left. He fought with everything he had and slowly began to make his way towards the top of the chimney shaped prison. Hands and feet did the work, shoring his back against the sticky wall as he lifted his head and sucked in the noxious air. Fighting his stiffening muscles and exhaustion he began to raise his body above the gooey mire.

---

Chris watched, smiling weakly as the tracker persevered once more and climbed out of the sludge he'd been trapped in. His heart leapt with joy at seeing his best friend roll his body out of the grotesque prison and onto the floor above it.

"Fuck you, Columber!" Larabee laughed as the chant grew louder. He screamed in agonizing torment as the taloned fingers gripped his blond hair and pulled sharply until their eyes met.

"Your friend may have won this battle, but the war for darkness has only just begun. Give your soul freely and without regret and I will end their lives easily..."

"...never..."

"...or I will make you take their lives..."

"I w...won't..."

"With your own hands!" Columber hissed anger evident in the glowing red eyes.

Chris felt the air leave his lungs as Columber changed into the black crow once more and perched on his chest. The eyes blazed with a malevolence such as the gunslinger had never seen. Evil resided in this Inn, but the creature before him was truly a vision from Hell. The beak moved, but the words were spoken in his mind and he cried out as the chant was taken up by the demons surrounding him. Something was placed to his lips and he drank without realizing it. He tried to spit the thick fluid out, but a hand clamped over his mouth and nose until he was forced to swallow it. Chris felt the helplessness reach out for him as consciousness left him once more.

---

The Inn was alive with the newfound energy of the legion of demons slowly undulating within the confines of the four walls. At one point in time, back when the wooden beams, floors, walls and basement were new, The Inn was a place where weary travelers could relax and rest. Unfortunately, evil had slithered into the wood, rotting inside the same beams and infrastructure. It created a vortex that allowed Hell to creep into the world of light, demons to snatch innocent souls, and Satan to give the Inn a life of its own. Blood ran from the wooden structure as it trapped its bounty, but now it was starving and finding it hard to keep its form. It needed to feed if it was to survive. It craved the bloodlust caused by the demonic forces living within and the lives the demons took. Those souls that were trapped quickly became part of The Inn, and fed its frenzied need for living flesh. Now it waited, knowing a major hurdle was the mortal man lying trapped in the bed within the walls of room 17. The room where it all started, a child's life taken while her parents were forced to watch and eventually take part in. The walls shuddered and bled as The Inn contemplated its roll in the upheavals to come. Time was running out for the trio still loose within its walls.

---

Vin lay on his back, his lungs an unwilling recipient of the brackish odor seeping up from the well of decay he'd just escaped. The sludge clung to his body like a second skin, one which made his stomach roil and empty before he forced his legs to support his body. Leaning heavily against the wall he looked into the shiny surface just inches below the lip of the well. The black mire rolled and shimmered with an evil putrescence that made his vision blur. He gave the well a wide birth, slipping with each step he took, and knowing the truth about the Inn they were trapped in. If evil were real, it resided within these walls, and had dug its talons into Chris Larabee. He would find the others and between them they would save their friend and leader, for Vin now understood Chris really was the target of the Satanic presence he felt within the Inn.

---

Buck and Ezra searched frantically for the missing sharpshooter. Neither man voiced their worries once Larabee's screams had died down and finally stopped. They'd done all they could to get to the gunslinger, but relented once the cries died down. Vin Tanner was missing now, and they needed to find him and decide what they needed to do next. The rooms on the upper floor were in the same position as they always had, except for room 17, which seemed to have disappeared.

"Ez...ra...cklin...are ya....God..."

The two men looked at each other as a bloodcurdling scream rent the air, rattling the Inn with the force of the cries. They knew who it was, and terror flooded their minds as the screams continued, chilling them to their inner core.

"VIN!" Wilmington shouted, but held his hands to his ears as the cacophony continued to reverberate off the walls. He could see the gambler doing the same thing as the screams died down and silence once more took over, but the silence wasn't absolute as Tanner's voice came to them once more.

"...plea...s..s..s...eee....God...he...help...ME!" The voice seemed to be coming closer and the two worried men glanced at each other.

"That came from somewhere below us!" Standish said, eyeing the dimly lit stairwell stretching out before them. Without a word they descended to the lower level, eyes searching the now seeping walls. Whatever it was, neither man asked, but they knew, in their hearts, they knew what they were seeing. The walls were bleeding, the smell of blood nauseating, but they could not let it stop them. Ezra took the lead, coming down the stairs slowly, clutching the rail, even as his feet slipped out from under him and he landed with a resounding thump at the bottom of the staircase.

"Ezra!" Wilmington shouted worriedly as he heard the soft expletive from the gambler's mouth. He raced down the stairs, oblivious of slippery steps under his feet. He made it to the bottom without mishap and knelt beside the moaning man. He placed his hand on Standish' chest, stopping him from moving too quickly.

"Easy...where are you hurt?"

"Ev...everywhere...I believe I've bruised every inch of my body," the gambler said, wincing as he tried to sit up once more.

"Probably, feel like anything's broken?" the older man asked as he ran his hands down the conman's body.

"I don't believe so...just bruises. Help me up, Buck!"

"Just lie there for a couple of minutes..."

"No! We need to find Vin and get to Chris."

"We will, Ezra, but not until you're ready."

"I'm ready, just help me up!"

Buck reached for the conman's arms and helped him to stand. He watched as the face remained passive and allowed himself to relax a little.

"I told you I..." the words were cut off as the gambler took a tentative step, only to cry out as pain lanced through his left ankle. He felt the rogue catch him and ease him down on the slick floor once more.

"How bad?" Wilmington asked.

"I do not believe it is broken, but I believe it may be sprained."

"Damn...okay, just sit there and I'll find something you can use as a crutch," the ladies' man ordered.

"Don't go far," the gambler muttered softly, not wanting the other man to see the concern on his face. The Inn was fast becoming a prison, one that didn't seem ready to offer them the slightest avenue of escape.

"I won't!" Wilmington said, moving deeper into the foyer in search of something they could use.

---

Josiah felt a chill run through his body that had little to do with the howling wind around them. The current of air had picked up quickly as they exited the relative safety of the circle of boulders, bringing with it a feeling of fear. Nothing else moved on the barren landscape as they rode further northeast into the Bisti Badlands. The very air surrounding them seemed thick and alive as if it had a mind of its own, and the very essence of its existence was to stop them. He turned to his right and watched as the youngest member of the seven burrowed his chin into the collar of his jacket in hopes of stopping the stench from entering his nostrils. On his left Nathan Jackson did the same, but his eyes were turned towards the ex-preacher and Josiah understood the worry he saw there. Something was trying to stop them from reaching their goal, and this was only the beginning. Whatever evil walked the earth tonight was reaching out for them, sending the message that they should turn tail and run.

Give them the strength they need to hold on, Lord and us the strength to get to them! Josiah thought as the horses continued to shy away from the heading they traveled.

Nathan knew the older man was worried, for that matter they all were. The fact they were dealing with the unknown sent shivers down his spine. He'd seen things growing up on the plantation, but none had sent his nerves on end like whatever was going on around them now. The faster they got to the missing peacekeepers the better, but something told him they may already be too late.

JD knew his two companions were worried about him, but he wasn't going to let them see just how nervous this place made him. The Bisti Badlands was proving to be a dangerous place, one that seemed to have swallowed up the four men they searched for. JD was certain they were making little or no progress, and wondered if something was holding them back, keeping them from their destination. Tucking his chin further down into his collar, JD let his mind wander over the time he'd spent with the six men he rode with, vowing he wouldn't let anything take his new family away from him.

---

"Ez...ra. B...b...uck.. Are ya....God...w...where a...are ya.. Pa...pain...h...hurts..."

Since leaving the gambler, Buck had been walking down the narrow corridor, wondering where the dim light was coming from. The screaming pleas from the missing Texan made him hurry his pace and he called for the younger man.

"Vin! I'm coming! Just keep talking, pard and I'll find you!"

"Bu...u...u...c...c...k...l...i...n...."

"Sweet Jesus help us!" Wilmington cried as the single elongated name rattled off the surrounding walls. He hurried forward, unconsciously registering the pale light that glowed around him. The candles had long since gone out and by rights they should be enshrouded in darkness, but he could see enough to make his way around. Buck had no idea how long he ran down the impossibly long corridor, but he had to keep moving. So far his search for a crutch for Ezra had come up empty, and he would soon have to return to the stairs and help the younger man as best he could. He'd also been searching the rooms, hoping he'd find Vin Tanner, but coming up empty each time. The screams and call for help had vanished and wherever the sharpshooter was, Buck prayed he was alright. Turning a corner, one he didn't remember being there earlier he came up against a dead end. Frowning he reached for the solid wall, grimacing in disgust at the fetid slime covered barrier. Holding his breath against the cloying scent he turned back the way he'd come only to find the walls had shifted once more. He cursed as he realized he was trapped in a small four foot by four foot prison, with the overpowering stench of feces and decay surrounding him. He used his hands, searching for an opening, yet finding nothing but solid wood. Buck had no idea how long he searched, but panic began to rear its ugly head as he struggled to breathe in the fetid air.

"Nooooooo!" He shouted, pounding the walls in frustration. "What do you want?" He pleaded, only to have his words echo around him, reverberating off the walls as if searching for their own means of escape from the hellish tomb.

---

Vin moved slowly along the corridor, wondering when he'd come to the end. The tunnel like trail seemed impossibly long for the structure of the Inn itself and he frowned as he realized he might not be in the same place. Sounds welled up around him, reminding him of rats scurrying from a sinking ship, and still he moved. Several times he stepped on something soft and giving underfoot, but would not allow himself to think about what it was. Once leaving the room that housed the well he'd been able to breathe a little easier, but was soon enveloped in darkness. He used his hands and pressed against the wall as a guide until he realized their was light once more.

The second thing to strike him was the moisture laden heat, so hot it felt as if the skin on his body would melt from his bones. He wiped his hand across his brow and felt the sweat dripping from his chin. Still, he wouldn't stop, he needed to find the others before it was too late. He moved his left foot forward and heard something click. Too late he realized he'd triggered something in the floor and the walls closed in on him. He cursed as he tried to find a way out, but there was no escape from the four foot by four foot prison entrapping him.

---

Ezra grimaced in distaste as he looked down at his ruined clothing. The once immaculate red coat was now covered in whatever sludge oozed from the walls. Disgusted with himself for being so clumsy and injuring his foot, the gambler slid across the floor and grabbed at the slippery railing. He managed to get his uninjured foot under him and struggled until he was standing.

"Courage, Ezra, courage," he whispered softly as he placed his left foot on the floor and eased his weight down on it.

Pain shot through the injured limb, but not as severely as his first attempt. Limping he turned and explored the area around the staircase and foyer. The once stately Inn was in total disrepair, the walls now covered with a some kind of growth he'd never seen before. Blue-green fungus sprouted from floor to ceiling cracks, death and decay seeped from every corner and he held his nose to keep from smelling the putrid odor. Searching the area once more he wondered if he should stay where he was or go in search of the others. He looked towards the top of the staircase, wondering if Chris larabee was still with them, or had been swallowed up by the evil within the once sedate structure. Turning away from the impossible obstacle of stairs he looked from one end of the foyer to the other. In the few minutes it had taken him to stand and look around the Inn had changed again. The foyer was replaced with a long hallway stretching out on either side of him.

The fungus glowed with an eerie light, casting devilish shadows across the walls and over the floor. Swallowing the bitter bile that rose in his throat, Ezra Standish felt a new emotion clouding his mind. Fear! There was no doubt about it, he was afraid of the unknown, yet Chris' words came back to him, giving him a newfound strength to battle his own insecurities. These men were his family and he would not let them down. The words came again and he smiled as he heard the softly spoken warning.

Don't ever run out on me again!

I won't Chris, you have my word! he silently vowed, taking his first tentative step in the direction he thought Wilmington had gone.

"Buck!" he shouted, moving cautiously and ignoring the dull throb of his ankle. He had to find Wilmington and Tanner before it was too late.

---

Chris moaned softly as his eyes opened to a room devoid of warmth. He tasted blood in his mouth and prayed he'd bitten his tongue, but somehow he knew that wasn't the case. He remembered the brackish taste of the thick substance he'd been forced to drink and tried to turn his head as his stomach rebelled at the though.

"...no..." he moaned softly, as his eyes focused on the large mirror in front of him. He heard movement on his right and turned to see Galla Shedim standing there.

"Good, you are awake. The master will return momentarily. He has much for you to see, but now you must drink!"

"N...NO!" the blond forced through grated teeth, amazed as he actually managed to put some strength in the words.

"You have no choice but to obey...it is the Master's wish that you partake of the lifeblood," Shedim ordered, motioning for one of the others to help him.

Chris turned his eyes as a cold hand touched his chin and another pressed his nostrils together. He remembered Jackson doing this when one of them refused to take the obnoxious horse piss. He knew sooner or later his body would automatically force his mouth open when the need for oxygen became too great. Still, his own instincts kicked in and he fought with everything he had, but the ropes kept him immobilized as Lillith's grotesque form overpowered him.

"It would be easier on you to just give the master what he wants!" Lilith hissed through decaying lips.

"...f...fuck...you..." the blond ground out, but knew he'd lost the fight as the cup was placed to his lips and he was forced to drink the crimson fluid. His stomach heaved, but a hand clamped down over his mouth, successfully sealing his lips and making it impossible to rid his body of the odious offering. He felt tears come to his eyes as his body did what it had to do and the liquid made a return trip down his throat.

"I see you still have some fight left in you, Christopher. That is good...it will make you a stronger sentinel for my legion."

Larabee couldn't find the air to answer, but his eyes glared green daggers at the satanic form now standing above him. He knew who it was, whether he called it Columber, the devil or Satan, didn't matter. This was the dark angel, the leader of the demons surrounding him and the one causing the torment to his friends.

"...stop...y...you..." the gunslinger moaned as Columber changed shape and finally sat beside him on the bed.

"I don't think so, Mister Larabee," Columber grinned, his face filled with malevolence as he looked deep into the sea green eyes. He understood what this man represented and knew he would have to use every trick in his arsenal to make him turn to the dark side. He waved his hand and the mirror shimmered and finally solidified once more showing the back of a lone, limping figure struggling through the semi-darkness.

"Ezra," the blond whispered, shocked as he watched the younger man turn around and he saw the fear in the face.

"Tell me, is he a strong man? Does he have pure morals? Will he turn to the darkness once the light has been extinguished?"

"No...none of us will!"

"I believe you're wrong. Mortal man has many weaknesses and one of them is the undeniable need to be with friends. People who understand and care for them. If I am correct, Ezra Standish grew up lacking friends and true family. What would happen if he thought you betrayed him...ran out on him and left him to face his horrors alone? Would he revert to the man he once was, the gambler who lived only to fleece his next victim of his winnings? Better yet, how much do you know about your friend? Is he even worse than you first surmised? Does he have skeletons in his closet that he would rather not reveal?"

"...we all have..." Larabee spat.

"Maybe, it's time you saw Ezra Standish for the man he truly is. Watch as he relives a point in his life I'm sure he'd rather forget."

"...no..." the injured man said, trying unsuccessfully to shut out the scene playing in front of him. The scene had shimmered and finally settled on a new room where Ezra Standish seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He knew this was only an illusion, yet he watched in stunned horror as the younger man woke up and cursed before turning towards a mirrored wall. He couldn't tear his eyes from the scene being played out in the mirrored room.

---

"What the hell?" Standish cursed softly as he turned his head from side to side. One minute he'd been moving cautiously along the corridor, searching for an avenue of escape or signs of his friends. The next he was lying on a feather mattress, comfortable and warm. He sat up and looked around him, wondering how he'd gotten there. Frowning, the gambler stood up and rubbed his eyes, wincing as pain shot from ankle to knee and back again. He waited for the pain to recede to a more bearable level before turning to survey his newest dwelling. His eyes came to rest on a large mirror that covered on wall, from corner to corner and floor to ceiling. He gasped as he realized there was something else about the mirror that made it different. This one did not reflect his surroundings, at least not the ones he was now in. Shaking in fear, his gaze was glued to the scene before him. It was a scene he'd lived and relived before, yet was one he wanted to forget above all else. He watched as the mirror image of his younger self slowly awoke and sat on the edge of the bed.

"No...no...no..." he mumbled, his voice filled with horror.

---

Chris watched in awe as a younger version of the man he knew sat up, confusion written on the handsome features. The gunslinger knew the warmth of the gambler's surroundings was not what it appeared and he understood he was truly catching a glimpse of a vulnerable and not so worldly Ezra Standish. He licked his lips, tasting the concoction he'd been fed earlier and wishing he could rid himself of the taste. His eyes were glued on the mirror as the past and present mixed in a show of horror for both him and the conman.

---

"No..." the gambler whispered, recognizing the room he was in. His coat lay across a chair and he moved towards it, even as he fought to change direction. He caught a glimpse of himself, fully clothed, in the mirror and knew he was really going to relive this all over again. He picked up the cream colored coat and turned to the door, waiting expectantly for the knock he knew was to come. When the soft sound met his ears he barely managed to keep from jumping out of his skin.

Don't answer it! he thought, even as his hand reached for the door knob and pulled it open. Standing before him was the most beguilingly, beautiful woman he'd ever had the pleasure to meet. Five feet ten inches of physical perfect, topped by a head of luscious blond curls that hung halfway down her back. Blue eyes so sensuous he felt he could easily drown in their depths, skin so soft and supple he knew he was looking into the face of an angel. A long gown of green hung delicately down her body, but did little to cover the feminine curves that made up her body.

"Ezra, Darling, are you ready?" the young woman asked, her voice soft and sensuous as she reached for her hand.

---

Chris tried not to look, but found himself drawn into the life being displayed before him. He knew it wasn't real, at least not now, but at some point in time this had really taken place and he wondered again at the fear in the younger man's eyes.

---

"Yes, Marguerite, may I say you look even more wonderful than you did last night?"

"Oh, Ezra, you're such a gentlemen."

"Mothah made sure she instilled that trait in me, and at time such as this I am grateful to her." He stepped out of the room, locking the door behind him, before linking his left arm in her right. He knew the young woman beside him was there because of him. Her beauty would come in handy tonight as he gambled for perhaps the biggest prize ever heard of. The final pot would be upwards of fifty thousand dollars, and Marguerite Delacroix would be the means to the end. After finding her working in a restaurant in a small town west of St. Louis he convinced her she could have a better life. He worked for weeks, readying her for tonight's game of chance, knowing she was the perfect diversion to at least two of the top gamblers. He would use her talents tonight and make off with the riches he so deserved.

"Ezra, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Marguerite. Do you remember what you're to do?"

"But of course. I am to pretend an interest in Mr. Davenport or Mr. Chambers depending on who seems to be winning more."

"Do you remember our signals?"

"Of course. I fold my arms if I think you have the winning hand. I sneeze if I think one of your opponents has a better one and allow you to bow out before you bet more than you should. If I see someone cheating I reach into my bag and I distract the others when you need to enhance your own hand. Oh, and before the game begins I am to pout and become angry at you for ignoring me and making me watch the game."

"Well done, My deah. I have every confidence that you can pull this off. Shall we?" Standish asked as he placed his hand on the door and entered the hotel room.

---

"Watch closely, Christopher. You will soon see who this gambler of yours really is," Columber said, his voice brimming with excitement as he saw the door open on the smoky room.

---

Ezra moved into the room and immediately his face took on a serious caste as his mother's lessons kicked in. No emotions showed on the handsome face as he took his place amongst the final players for the high stakes games. Without a word his winnings from the night before were placed in front of him and he counted to make sure the total was correct.

"Marguerite, bring me a glass of the finest brandy!" he ordered, knowing this was the signal for the young woman to go into her act.

"I did not come here to wait on you hand and foot, Ezra!" the beauty spat, moving to the opposite side of the room.

"Sounds like trouble in paradise, Standish?" Davenport said with a grin.

"Paradise seems like a cold, bleak place right now," Chambers laughed.

"There are other pleasures in Paradise, gentlemen. Such as holding the winning hand at the end of this night!" the gambler said. Ezra said the familiar words spoken so long ago, yet it was happening for him all over again. He was in St. Louis, at the Casino Hotel, in a private poker game with more money than he'd ever seen in his life. A night that would end the same way it did twelve years before, and cost him a part of his soul.

"Alright, Davenport, seems to me it was your deal," Chambers said, sliding a new deck towards the other man.

"That's correct, Chambers. Alright gentlemen, fifty dollars to see your first card...five card stud...bet after each face card and please, nothing under fifty dollars and raise as high as you like. Just make damn sure you have the funds to cover what you bet!" Davenport said, smiling as he dealt the cards and set the deck on the table in front of younger man. "Would you like to cut the cards, Standish?"

Ezra smiled as he reached for the deck and smoothly cut the deck in half before Davenport reached for them once more. He slid fifty dollars into the pot and briefly caught and held Marguerite's gaze. She was perfectly positioned to catch a glimpse of the two hands, yet remain unobtrusive to the others.

"Marguerite, that drink."

"I'm not a maid, Ezra," the woman said.

"It seems to me you certainly were a maid when I found you in that bordello!"

"Your bet, Standish!" Chambers said, smiling at the fury in the young gambler's eyes. He knew that anger would be his downfall, as it would keep him from concentrating on his own hand.

Ezra looked at the card in front of him and lifted his down card. Without a word he counted out the fifty dollars and placed it in the pot and waited for the others to ante up or throw in their cards.

"Seems like you have to get your own drink or suffer from dry throat, Standish!" Davenport said, dealing out the second up card to each player.

"Marguerite, perhaps it's time you found out the benefits of knowing an older man," Chambers suggested.

"Marguerite is quite content where she is!" Standish said, fury evident in his eyes.

"Is she?" Davenport asked. "By the way, it's your bet!"

"Two hundred dollars!" the younger man spat as Marguerite moved towards the man closest to her.

"Oh, I believe you're getting a little overenthusiastic, Standish. Are you sure about that wager?"

"Put your money where your mouth is, Chambers!" the gambler blustered and watched as the two older men laughed.

"Call!" Davenport answered.

"Call and raise one hundred," Chambers said. "Marguerite, would you please pass me a brandy?"

"Of course, Mr. Chambers..."

"Roy..."

"Roy," she said sweetly, moving to the bar and pouring the amber colored liquid into a goblet.

Ezra smiled inwardly as he plan began to take effect and Marguerite Delacroix sauntered around the room, using her feminine wiles to dupe the two men. All he had to do was watch for the subtle signals they'd worked out.

---

Chris watched as the night wore on and the young woman continued to flirt with the two men. He could tell she was giving Standish signals and understood the subtle changes as she shifted from one man to the other. Ezra continued to win, but he made sure he lost several extravagant pots in order to keep the other men from suspecting he was cheating. He'd seen Standish work before, and admired the younger man's uncanny ability to cover himself.

"Now, this is where it gets interesting. Watch closely and you'll understand why Ezra Standish does not deserve your friendship, or loyalty. He is a man who would stoop to anything to get what he wants. Look at the greed in his eyes. This is it....this is the pot that will make or break him."

---

Ezra swallowed the lump in his throat as Davenport slid his last five hundred dollars across the table and into the pot. Chambers had done the same a few moments earlier and now it was up to him to call or fold. Marguerite assured him that he had the winning hand, but he kept his face neutral as he lifted his down cards. Releasing them once more he added his own five hundred, and calculated the final pot, including the ante was eleven thousand two hundred fifty dollars. This was it, the difference between a pauper and a rich man.

"Well, Standish?" Davenport asked.

"Call," the gambler said simply. "What have you got, Gentlemen?"

"Two pair, ladies over jacks!" Chambers said with a grin.

"No good, three little deuces!" Davenport said, revealing his hole cards and reaching for the pot, only to find Standish' hand stopping him.

"Sorry, gentlemen, but it appears I am the big winner today. Three sixes..."

"Three sixes...the devil's hand!" Chambers said, eyes widening as he looked towards Davenport.

"You cheated!" Davenport hissed.

"I assure you I did no such thing!" Standish said, pulling the money towards him.

"Don't touch that!" Chambers warned.

"Gentlemen, I won this pot fair and square and I would not have guessed you two would be such spoiled sports when it comes to losing. I will take my winning s and lea..."

"You're not going anywhere with my money!" Davenport warned.

"Your money? I'm afraid you have that wrong, gentlemen. I will take my winning sand leave now," the young gambler said, flipping his arm and letting the small deadly derringer pop into his hand. "Please move away from the table while I collect my money."

"You cheated, Standish! I don't know how...but you did...."

---

"See what type of man you befriended?" Columber asked.

"Knew Ezra w...was a cheat...doesn't mean he's not trust...worthy!" Larabee tried.

"Ah, but what if he was also a murderer?"

"He isn't...judge checked us all out."

"Perhaps your friend managed to cover it up! Look at what's happened!"

---

Ezra held the gun in front of him and moved it between the two men. He could see Marguerite out of the corner of his eyes and knew she would follow him later. Davenport's face was cold with rage as he moved away from the table and grabbed for the girl. The gun he kept hidden in his jacket, at the last minute he shoved her towards the younger man.

The gambler did not understand what was happening as the gun in his hand went off and a cry of pain escaped the young woman's throat. He dropped the weapon, holding onto the woman as she began to slide towards the floor.

"....Ezra..."

"Marguerite...I didn't mean...oh God...why?" he held her in his arms, oblivious of the two men raking the money off the table.

"...it...hurts...please...Ezra...make it...stop...make it go a...away..."

"Davenport...get the doctor!"

"Sorry, Standish, we're getting out of here and I'd advise you to do the same. Murder is against the law!"

"I didn't murder anyone..."

"Maybe not, but you shot her!" Chambers told him.

"It was an accident..."

"Don't matter none if she's dead," Davenport said, hurrying towards the door.

"Marguerite, no...please...I'm sorry," Standish said, holding the woman's body close to his own. He could feel the blood running from the wound in her chest and knew she was dying.

"...Ezra...no...sorry...not your f...fault...hurts...dying...go...don't get caught...hang..."

Standish knew she was right and moved out from under his burden. He kissed her forehead and heard her soft moan as he stood up and hurried to the window. He watched the slight rise and fall of her chest as the crimson color darkened on her body.

"I'm sorry, Marguerite," he whispered as he slid the window open and ducked out on the stairs as he heard someone at the door.

---

"See, Christopher, he murdered her," Columber said, watching the blond's face as the mirror shimmered and Standish was once more within the confines of the Inn.

"No...accident..."

"Maybe the shooting was, but he left her there to die on her own. Should I show him how much she suffered? It took her two days to die and she could have been saved!"

"No...lost too much blood..."

"Did she? How can you be sure? Is this the type of man you can trust?"

"Trust him...trust them a...all!" Larabee watched as Standish slid down the seeping wall and wrapped his arms around his knees. The gunfighter knew the gambler was reliving the scene once more and knew from the way the green eyes blinked he was trying to ward off the tears. Standish would forever wear the robe of guilt over the death of Marguerite Delacroix, but it was not his to wear.

---

Ezra stood in front of the mirror and watched as his younger self escaped through the window. He knew the scene should end there, but it didn't. It continued to show the body of Marguerite Delacroix, but suddenly everything else disappeared except the bloodied form that caused such pain in his heart. Ezra had no idea how long he stood watching, but it seemed to go on indefinitely. His eyes widened in shock as the woman he thought had no chance to live suddenly screamed out his name.

"EZRA!...help me...d...don't let me d...die l...like this...please it h...hurts...pain....EZRA!"

"No...please, God, No!" He cried as the door finally opened and two men and a woman entered the room. He couldn't tear his eyes away as one man knelt beside the injured woman.

"How is she, Doc?"

"She's dying...ain't no way I can save her now." The doctor's hand touched against the woman's neck as her eyes closed. "She's gone. I could've saved her if I'd gotten to her sooner! Lost too much blood, Sheriff!"

"Wish the hell I had my hands on the miserable low life sonofabitch that left her to die like this. Ain't a man deserves to live for letting another person, 'specially a woman die like this. Bastard deserves to hang!"

"I couldn't...I didn't know...please..." Standish begged as a vision of the lovely young woman flashed before his eyes. He closed his eyes and willed the vision away, but the soft whoosh of skirts sent a shudder through him.

"Ezzzrrraaaaaaaa!"

The word came out as a strangled sound, yet he recognized the voice and lifted terror stricken eyes. Marguerite Delacroix stood before him in the gown she'd worn that fateful night, the green gown was stained red with her own lifeblood. Empty black sockets stared out where wondrous blue eyes had once been. Her face was whiter than new fallen snow, except for the crimson lips that opened to reveal diseased gums.

"Ezzzrrraaaaaaaa!"

"Nnnnnnoooooo!" the gambler cried softly as decaying hands reached for him. The cold, dead fingers touched his chin and a scream of terror issued from the conman's throat as he slowly backed away. Dropping to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes and sobs quaked through his body.

"You did this to me! You left me to die alone...EZRA!"

---

"It's not real Ezra!" Larabee cried weakly as he watched the other man's terror stricken face.

"Isn't it, Mister Larabee? Look at his face and you'll see it is all the truth. Ezra Standish murdered that woman and deserted her just as he did in the Indian village..."

"...came back..."

"But did he come back for you or was there something else that drew him back? Perhaps he found gold in that mine and wanted to keep it for himself. Was he really there to save all of you from Anderson's ghosts or was he hoping you'd all kill each other?"

"No...he came back to h...help..."

"Ah, but are you sure of that? Perhaps he changed his mind once he saw that you were already free. That you would spoil his plans..."

"No...won't be...lieve you..." Larabee moaned as Columber touched his forehead and he felt the growing agony in his side.

"I see it is time for us to see what Buck Wilmington is up to. Perhaps you would like something to drink first?"

"No!" the blond cried, clenching his teeth as he watched Galla Shedim coming towards him once more, a steaming cup in his hands as the chant began anew.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo..."

Chris could see hooded creatures surrounding his bed, shuffling closer as Shedim held the cup high over his head and Columber smiled down at him. Chris tried to turn away from the hypnotic red eyes, but was held fast by the restraints.

"Drink of the lifeblood, Christopher. Feel its strength as it enters your body."

"No..." The taloned hand clamped down on his side and he screamed as searing shards of pain shot through him.

"Drink Christopher!"

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo...Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo..."

The chant increased in both volume and intensity and Chris found himself hypnotized by the swaying mass of bodies crowded around him. The cup was placed at his mouth and he drank, his eyes widening as the thick burning liquid slipped though his lips. He felt himself losing touch with reality even as his gaze went back to the mirror and the weeping man huddled on the floor of an unknown room.

---

The three riders continued on through the long night, desperate to reach their friends before it was too late. The harder they rode, the less distance they seemed to travel. To the peacekeepers it felt like the horses were mire in quicksand and each step seemed labored.

Josiah knew that Nathan and JD were flanking him, and he realized the silence between them said everything. They were worried, bordering on scared, yet there was only a tangible hint that something was terribly wrong with the world. He turned to see the kid from Boston at the same time Dunne turned his way.

"Something on your mind, Son?" the ex-preacher asked.

"I...well...see, Josiah, I don't understand any of this. I mean I know we have to ride out here and I know Chris, Vin, Buck and Ezra are in trouble, but I just don't understand how I know it."

"Sometimes we just have to do what we know, even if it does not seem real. There are things in this world that are unexplainable, yet they are there and right now evil abounds. I can feel it with each step we take into this godforsaken land. There is something here that does not belong, and if we don't keep on this path it will reach out and distinguish the light in this world."

"But why does it want Chris and the others?" Dunne asked.

"That's something I can't really answer, JD. It might be because of Chris' past. The dark times he lived through after Sarah and Adam's death. Chris had a black soul during that times and some of the things he did may have attracted the evil..."

"But Chris ain't evil..."

"We both know that, Son, but he walked the path between good and evil and from some of the things he told me he may have crossed the line a few times, but something always brought him back. We need to be there to help him this time. To make sure he doesn't do the one thing that will send his soul to hell for all eternity," the ex-preacher explained as the sky took on a reddish cast, signaling the onset of a new day.

"Josiah, we need to rest the horses," Jackson said from the opposite side. He saw the older man nod as they drew abreast of each other once more. Neither man wanted to stop as an unholy fire seemed to stretch across the horizon. A crimson tide that warned of a bloody battle to be fought and won by good or evil. The outcome was unknown, but the trio knew they would give their lives to dispatch the evil and send it back to hell where it belonged.

---

Vin turned in the tiny prison, pounding his fists against the barrier as he called for help. The sound of his own voice was his only companion and again he kicked out, cursing the walls that held him captive. The darkness was absolute and he thought the air was running out and that this place, this small hole would be his tomb for all eternity. Forcing himself to be calm he relaxed and slowed his breathing until he could think straight once more. He remembered kicking something just before the walls closed in on him. He lowered himself to the floor and used his hands to feel his way around. His fingers came up against a leather bound book and he tried to pick it up.

Something held it down, but he was determined to pull it from its prison into his own. He pulled as hard as he could, feeling it loosen a little, crying out as red eyes appeared directly in front of his face and something sharp raked across his hand. He felt something warm and sticky on his hand and knew he was bleeding, but still he did not relinquish his hold. Cursing whatever creature was in the cell with him he pulled once more. Putting every ounce of strength he had into the effort, he nearly laughed as the book came free. He was rewarded with the screaming banshee like wail that came from the creature as it disappeared, and he held his treasure close against him. Whatever secrets it held, the demon had not wanted him to have it. A new sound met his ears and he looked up as a halo of light surrounding an angelic face appeared at the top of his prison.

"Anahita..."

"You have the answers in your hands, Vin Tanner. Keep it safe and you will find the way to defeat this curse surrounding the corruption."

"How will I know?" the sharpshooter asked as the halo grew dim above him.

"Read it...the words were written long ago...at a time when this Inn was new and filled with the promise of a wonderful future. My time here is at an end, but there are others in need of your help. You must save him and release the souls trapped within these walls. Be strong and have faith in God, for he will not forsake you!"

"No! Don't go...don't leave me trapped in here!" the Texan called as the light was extinguished and he found himself alone in the darkness once more. He knew what he had to do and forced his body to obey his commands. Ignoring the blood that dripped onto the floor, he slipped the book into his pocket, making sure it would not fall out. Satisfied he was not in danger of losing it, Vin began searching for a way out once more. He felt the evil surrounding him and shuddered at the thought of the injured man trapped in room 17.

I'll find a way to you, Chris ya jest gotta hold on 'til I do! he silently vowed as he felt along the corners of the walls, seeking a way out of the prison he was trapped in.

---

Chris heard the familiar chant whether he was sleeping or awake. It echoed through his skull, keeping him from the rest he needed and pulling him towards the shadows waiting on the edge of consciousness. His body ached, his stomach growled in protest to whatever vile concoction the creatures forced on him. He knew he was feverish, the heat in the room and the scent of death and decay making him sluggish as he tried to form coherent thoughts. Someone was calling to him, someone he trusted and he tried to reach out for him, to touch that familiar spirit. A name stayed just beyond his ability to focus, but the face was there. The blue eyes so filled with such intensity they could not be ignored. He tried to speak, but there seemed to be no energy left in him. The effort it took to fight Columber was wearing him down and he knew he didn't have much left. The words flashed in his mind. A vow from the man with the blue eyes, the man who's name he knew, yet could not form the familiar word in his mind.

I'll find a way to you, Chris ya jest gotta hold on 'til I do! Chris' head shook as he heard the silent vow and he knew he was not alone.

"...trying..." he whispered as the voices grew louder and the blue eyes disappeared. He lifted his right hand, searching for the comforting touch, but felt only a deep cold as a hand clasped his. He forced his eyes open, crying out as the demonic face hovered above him.

"NO!"

"Welcome back, sweet prince. The master will return in a moment," Lilith cackled through decaying lips, flecks of skin dropping from her putrid face.

Chris tried to turn away as her fetid breath made his tumultuous stomach heave. He felt the bile rise in his throat as she watched him. He tried to tear his gaze away, but the deadly eyes held him enthralled. He coughed as the burning liquid threatened to make a return trip and watched in horror as Galla Shedim appeared holding the cup once more.

"N...no..." the blond spat, finding the strength to fight once more as Tanner's words came back to him.

"Drink the lifeblood of Satan, Christopher," Shedim whispered.

"...Nooooo!" Larabee repeated as the chant was taken up by the writhing bodies vying for a place of honor around his bed.

"Drink...drink...drink...drink..." the single word was repeated again and again from ruined mouths and hideous faces. The swaying bodies were hypnotic as glowing candles were held high above his bed and hot wax dropped onto the blankets.

"N...no..."

"Drink of the lifeblood of Satan," Lilith repeated her husband's words as she placed a finger on his chin and forced his mouth open.

"Lifeblood of Satan!" the words came from every mouth in the room and the blond was shocked when he heard his own voice join in the chant. He tried to fight, but the restraints held him fast, making him an unwilling spectator at his own sojourn into darkness.

Chris' eyes widened in terror as the cup was placed at his lips. The thick liquid entered his mouth, covering his tongue as the noxious vapors entered his nostrils. He gagged, but could not rid his body of whatever this new drink was. The drink opened his mind and he knew he would be awake for whatever new visions Columber wanted him to experience. As if thinking about him, the demon appeared beside the bed and Chris watched the others move back as the mirror shimmered to life once more.

"Buckkkk..." the blond's strangled cry revealed the pain he felt as his best friend's image filled the wall.

---

"This can't be real," Wilmington whispered into the darkness as the room around him shimmered and solidified into something he'd rather forget. He tried to shake off the visions, but found himself unable to stop what was happening.

---

"It's no...not real, Buck...it's not..." Larabee muttered as the metallic taste invaded his mouth and Columber's laughter filled his head.

"Isn't it?. Watch and relive that night...the night that cost your family's lives. You could have been there if you hadn't been so drunk! All you had to do was refuse that final drink and you could've saved your family!"

"...no..." Chris watched as the scene unfolded and the time before the dark years replayed before his eyes.

---

"Sarah, we'll be back in three days," Chris vowed, leaning down and kissing her as Buck kept their son occupied.

"I love you, Chris, and I have something to tell you when you come home," she said, smiling as her husband looked into her eyes.

"What is it?"

"Sorry, love, you'll have to wait until you get back. Maybe we'll get Buck to take Adam fishing," the woman suggested as they made it to the corral and Larabee checked Pony's saddle.

"Faster, Uncle Buck, faster," Adam laughed as they rode back to the horses.

"Sorry, Kid, looks like your Pa's ready to go," Wilmington said, depositing the small boy on the ground.

"Can't I go with you?" Adam asked.

"Not this time, Son. I need you to look after your ma for me. Think you can do that for me?" Larabee asked as he hugged his child.

"Sure, Pa. I'll do all my chores and help Ma with hers," the child said excitedly.

"Thanks, Son, I'm glad I got someone can trust to take care of things," Larabee said, kissing his wife once more. He watched as she took Adam's hand and moved to the front of the house. He mounted up and turned to look at his family once more before turning the horses away from the corral.

Buck's eyes grew wide as he watched Sarah drop her hand to her stomach and smile at him. He knew the gesture, had seen it several times while growing up with his mother in the bordellos and whorehouses. Sarah Larabee was pregnant, and had not told her husband yet. Buck would make sure he bought his friend a drink once they reached Mexico...several if they sold the horses. Turning away from the beautiful woman and her son, Buck Wilmington smiled as he looked at his friend's back. Yep, there was reason to celebrate this day.

---

"I see you remember that day, Christopher. Did you know Sarah was pregnant with your daughter?" Columber asked.

"No...God...no..." he whimpered softly as the mirror shimmered and solidified on a new scene.

"Watch and remember what you did! Why you were not there to save them!"

---

"Well, Pard, how about a drink or two to celebrate?" Wilmington asked as they walked away from the corral. They'd sold the horses for more than they thought possible and both were elated as they moved down the street.

"It's still early," the blond said, licking at dry lips and smiling at his friend. "Tell you what, Buck, I'll buy the first round."

"Sounds like a plan to me, need to wash some of this trail dust out of my throat," Wilmington said, tipping his hat at two elderly ladies as they passed him.

The blond shook his head at his friend as they continued towards the cantina. The women had both smiled at the rogue and Chris heard one of them comment about what a handsome gentleman he was. They made it to the swinging doors, hurried inside and smiled in surprise at how clean the interior was. Several tables were empty and they quickly made their way towards one at the very back. A dark haired woman hurried to their table and smiled sweetly as she pointed to the menu over the door.

"You hungry, Chris?" Wilmington asked.

"Could go for a good steak," the blond answered.

"Me too," Wilmington said and smiled at the waitress. "We'll have two of your specials and a bottle of your finest whiskey."

"Si, Senor," the woman said as she hurried away.

"Didn't think we'd find a place like this here...kinda reminds me of a little place back in Indiana," Larabee said, smiling at the memory of the restaurant his parents took him with them when they went into town.

"Yeah, think we had one of those places too. Ma was a regular there and the lady who ran the place gave me my first job. I cleared the tables for food...but mostly to be around the owner's daughter. She was a real beauty...dark hair, green eyes..."

"How old were you?"

"Ten," the impish rogue wagged his brows. "I was an early bloomer and that girl was a real beauty!"

"Girl? How old was she?" Larabee asked as the waitress returned.

"I don't know, but she couldn't have been much more'n twenty," the rogue answered and saw the laughter in his friend's eyes.

"Ma always said I set my eyes on the older ones," Wilmington said as Larabee poured two stiff drinks. The two men stopped talking as the waitress brought their meals. Buck's mouth watered at the juicy steak, potatoes, and thick gravy. "Now that's gonna cling to my ribs."

"Yep, you know there's only one thing I like more than steak and potatoes," Larabee said dreamily.

"Sarah's chicken and dumplings," Wilmington finished. They ate the rest of the meal in silence, enjoying the quiet of the cantina, the sharing of memories, and the bottle of whiskey. Appetite sated, the two friends got a fresh bottle and took the path back down the road of years gone by. The laughed at some of the old memories and swallowed down the bitter taste only brought on by war. The hours drifted by and more liquor with it.

---

"I'm disappointed! I did not think you would stoop so low! What would your pretty wife and your boy think if they'd known the real reason you were late? To think you were indulging in the evils of liquor while your wife and boy were waiting to die!" Columber's laughter filled the room.

"...no...d...didn't..." the blond whispered, shaking his head in an effort to clear the thickening fog.

"Didn't you? Why didn't you leave when you were supposed to. Instead you sat there drinking and laughing while someone murdered your loved ones. They trusted you..."

---

Chris poured the last of the whiskey into the glasses and knew he was feeling the effects of the drinks. He lifted his glass, and waited for Wilmington to do the same as he spoke in a slurred voice.

"To Sarah's chicken and dumplings!"

"I'll dink ta that!" the ladies man said as they touched their glasses and downed the last of the fiery liquid.

"Well, fuck, Buck!" the blond said and the two men laughed at the way it sounded. I think we'd best get rooms and stay...I don't think I can walk..."

"Think Sarah'll be mad?"

"Nah! We'd fall and bust somethin' and then she'd be really mad!" the blond's words were still slurred as he stood, swayed and caught hold of the table before plopping unceremoniously back in the chair.

"Damn, ol' son, yer drunker'n a skunk!"

"Huh?"

"I don't know, just somethin' sounded funny!"

"Yeah, well, it won't sound so damn funny when you wake up with a hangover. Come on, Stud," Larabee smiled as he tried once more to stand up. "Let's get us a room."

"Sounds like a plan to me!" Wilmington said as the exited the cantina into the waning daylight. He frowned as a shadow was cast over his friend and looked up to see a large black crow circling overhead. Damn scavengers! he thought, stumbling along beside his friend.

---

"See, my dark-souled one, you drank too much and didn't make it home for your family...for Sarah...for Adam...you were selfish and looked after your own needs. It's your fault they died that day!"

---

"No, Chris, don't believe him! You couldn't have known...we couldn't have known!" Wilmington whispered, tears brimming in his eyes at the thought of what Columber was doing to his friend.

Chris Larabee already harbored the guilt for not being there and now this demon was feeding on that guilt. Buck wanted to turn away from the wall as a new scene shimmered and formed. This was something he prayed he'd forget, but the memory of it was burned into his mind, just as the fire had burned the half the soul out of his friend.

---

"Well, Stud, bet you can't wait to get home?" Wilmington said, smiling as the final rise came into sight.

"Well, Buck, Sarah and I were kind of hoping you'd take Adam fishing."

"Ah, guess you two need some quality time together. You gonna see about making Adam a brother or sister?"

"Gonna give it a shot," Larabee said, frowning as something caught his eyes.

"Something wrong, Chris?"

"Not sure...Buck! That looks like fire!" Larabee cried, spurring Pony forward as thick black smoke loomed on the horizon.

Buck followed closely on the heels of the other horse, but soon lost ground as the terrified blond raced across the expanse and disappeared over the rise. He heard a bloodcurdling scream that tore the air from his lungs and he knew he had to hurry. Cresting the hill he spotted horse and rider hurtling towards the burning house.

"CHRIS! NO!" Wilmington called. He didn't know where his horse found the energy it needed but he quickly caught up with Pony as Larabee dismounted and raced towards the house. The sound of a terrified scream rent the air and Chris Larabee's world crumbled around him as the blackened remains of the roof and walls shifted and collapsed to the ground.

"SARAH! ADAM!" the heart wrenching cries continued as Wilmington grabbed at Larabee's twisting body. "LET ME GO! SARAH!"

"Chris, No! IT'S TOO LATE!"

"NO! IT CAN'T BE, LEMME THE FUCK ALONE, BUCK!"

"I can't Chris!" the ladies man said, tears of pain and sorrow racing down his cheeks as he fought to keep the blond from entering the fire engulfed remnants of his home. The shadow of a crow sailed across the shell as the windmill in the yard turned slowly in the wind. Time seemed to stand still, but Buck knew it was an illusion and Larabee twisted out of his grip once more. Grabbing hold of the man's white shirt, Buck turned the angered man towards him and lifted his fist. Before the blond could react the fist struck his chin and he fell backwards in the dirt. A second blow connected with his chin as he struggled to sit up. This time Wilmington's tightly clenched fist did its work and Larabee was unconscious before he finished his journey to the ground.

---

Buck found himself back in the four foot by four foot cell, his clothes stained with black soot and the unmistakable smell of fire surrounding him. He heard a sound and turned to see the wall transform into a huge screen that showed Chris Larabee tied to a bed. One of the walls in the room continued to show the same scene he'd just relived in all its unholy hell. He could hear someone speaking to Larabee and immediately cursed as he recognized the lawyer from Farmington. The sleazy man looked his way, baring red glowing eyes and rows of uneven black teeth. His gaze went to the scene once more as Larabee's shocked voice reached his ears.

"Chris...no...it's not real..." he stammered as he looked into his own smiling face.

---

Chris tried to come off the bed as he watched the smile come over the mustached face. In his heart he knew what he was seeing was not real, yet his ravaged mind could not separate reality from Columber's evil mind. He closed his eyes, clenching them tightly as he heard his own laughter and slurred words. He hadn't been there to save his precious family because he'd spent the day drinking and talking. He could smell the smoke and fire, could hear the screams, could feel his own heart aching with misery as he relived the loss of his family.

Chris watched as Buck stood and turned to see a woman walk out of the flames. He knew it wasn't real, yet it tore at his heart, fed by the satanic drink he'd ingested.

"No...not real...not real...not real!" Larabee repeated over and over as his family's bodies were consumed by the deadly fire. His soul was torn...ravaged once more as he saw the new reality Columber was showing him.

"He could've saved them! But his lover would not allow that. Look at them...hear their laughter even as Sarah and Adam are burned alive!"

"No...Buck...No...please...God...no more..." The blond tried to twist away as the cup was again placed at his lips and the familiar tasting liquid entered his mouth.

---

"Leave him alone you bastard!" Wilmington shouted as his friend was forced to drink from a cup. Larabee's eyes glazed over as the thick liquid entered his mouth, leaving a crimson stain on the blond's top lip. He struck out as Chris twisted on the bed, writhing in agony as whatever was in the cup hit his stomach.

"Chris! Godammit just hold on!" he cursed, ignoring the scene as it began again on the wall of Larabee's room. He pounded on the walls of his cell, anger and fear giving him the strength he needed. He heard a faint click and felt cold, fetid air on his neck. Turning slowly his eyes, widened as the spawn of hell solidified in front of him. He took an involuntary step backwards as the creature reached for him. Desiccated flesh hung in ribbons from splintered skeletal arms. The eye sockets were empty, the nasal space hollow, clumps of hair clung to the scalp and bare skull. The mouth was a sickening mixture of flesh and teeth as the bones made grated against one another. The tongue moved and Buck could see pieces tear from the roof of the creature's mouth.

"You are m...i....n...e...!" the creature cackled reaching for him, even as its tongue flicked past it's ruined gums. The hand now held a set of manacles as it closed the distance between them.

Buck couldn't speak, the air around him filled with grotesque images and the clattering sounds of chains and moaning floorboards. He knew if he didn't move it would be upon him, but where could he go. He backed up, keeping the creature before him, screaming out as a hand came down on his shoulder and pulled him backwards.

---

Columber smiled as he stood back and watched Larabee struggle with the turmoil racing through his mind. He turned to the creatures surrounding the bed and smiled as he pointed towards the bed.

"He is ready for the final test! See that the great room is prepared! Tonight is the time of the great feast and tomorrow will herald the rise of a new day such as never been known! Our brethren will join us with the final stroke of the tarnished blade and our dark prince comes home to take his rightful place of honor! Tonight he will shed the blood of an innocent...a brother! Go...see that everything is in readiness!"

Columber turned towards the writhing blond and watched as his body relaxed. The green eyes were wide, but there was none of the light in them...Chris Larabee was there, but his mind was no longer his own.

---

Buck screamed as his body was pulled backwards and his eyes caught sight of the elongated fingers clutching his shoulders. The creature shifted so that it was directly above him while the second one moved to take its place. His body was lifted and turned, his arms twisted and pulled behind him. He fought, but the evil was too strong and they subdued him easily. An icy talon ran down the length of his spine, sending a chill deep into his bones, surrounding his mind with the horror of what was happening. Of what he was seeing and hearing as a keening wail permeated from the walls of the Inn. His body was lifted and held high above the creatures and carried out of his small prison. He tried to scream, but it felt as if the very breath he tried to take escaped before it entered his lungs.

God help me, he thought as the sights, sounds, and smells caused his stomach to rebel and his insides turn to ice.

---

Ezra knew he had to move, to put the past back where it belonged or he would never be able to face his life again. Marguerite Delacroix was dead and buried, and there was nothing his guilt would do for her now. He needed to help his friends and to do that he had to be able to think and act. The memory he relived left him feeling weak and drained, but he forced himself to stand and search for a way out of the prison that held him. He needed to help his new family, the people who were alive, the ones who helped him from what could've been a life of loneliness and desperation. A life of cheating that would have ended with him dead at the hands of some irate mark. He used his hands to feel for the walls and hoped something would open his prison and release him. He grimaced as his fingers came in contact with the barriers and something thick and tacky sent shivers through his spine. He knew there was something familiar about the cloying scent that seemed so heavy on the air. The odor could only be one thing...blood and it seemed to be coming from every crevice in the walls, slowly filling his prison. He had to get out before he drowned in the thick sludge as it engulfed his shoes, but there seemed to be no way out of this hellish prison.

---

Vin knew time was running short. Something felt wrong...something that dealt with his instincts and his connection with Chris Larabee. He'd always been able to sense when something was wrong, but there was nothing there anymore. He renewed his efforts to free himself from his prison and frowned as he felt something warm against his body. The heat was comforting, not painful, and seemed to be coming from within his pocket. He stopped his search and reached for the journal, pulling it out and frowning as he realized the book was glowing with a white light.

"What the hell!" he thought as it seemed to glow brightly in his hand and illuminated the prison. There were so many questions he wanted answered, yet right now he needed to move, to get to his friends and save them. He turned around in the cell and was surprised when the light from the journal shone on an opening barely large enough for him to squeeze through.

"Thanks, Anahita," he whispered as he placed the book inside his pocket once more and knelt in front of the opening. He pushed his body through, wincing as his sides scraped up against the wood. Finally free of the prison he stood up and leaned heavily against the wall. His senses reeled with the onset of evil forces surrounding him and he knew he had to keep the journal safe, but where. As if in answer to his question the object grew warm once more and he removed it from his pocket.

He stood in a narrow corridor, stretching far into the distance, the walls seemed to shimmer and shift, setting off an attack of vertigo, yet he knew it wasn't real. Closing his eyes he forced the sickening sense of nausea away and waited until his stomach calmed. Forcing himself to take deep breaths he opened his eyes once more and watched for some sign that would let him know he had indeed found a haven for the journal. He walked, one step at a time, ignoring the grotesque hands that formed within the walls and reached for him.

They tried to touch him, but there seemed to be something protecting him as the journal glowed brightly. A door loomed ahead, glowing with the same intensity as the book and he knew he'd found what he was looking for even as the hideous creatures moved to surround him. He reached for the handle, smiling as he felt the warmth from within. The door opened easily, revealing a twelve foot by twelve foot room. Candles glowed on the walls, a simple wooden cross was set against the back wall, a small table stood just below the cross and he knew it was the right place to put the journal. He quickly crossed the small room and placed the diary directly under the cross as the two items began to glow.

Taking a deep breath, Vin Tanner did something he seldom did and blessed himself. He'd always believed in God, but was a man who rarely showed that side of himself. Turning away from the feeling of warmth he slowly made his way across the room. This place, this safe haven would be there when he found his friends, and he would bring them back here no matter what it took. With that final thought he stepped into the corridor and closed the door. Blinking his eyes he realized he was in total darkness once more as horrid images flashed through his mind. Death had come to this Inn, but so had life and that life lived on inside the room evading the demonic presence in spite of its strength.

Vin felt the air around him grow heavy as hands reached out for him, sending shockwaves of pain through his body as they quickly subdued him. These creatures were only the beginning, the real evil was waiting for him somewhere within the walls of this evil structure.

---

Columber reached down and placed his hand upon the wound in Larabee's side. This would confine him to the Inn forever and would not be removed. He felt the splinter move and grow under his touch, yet the dark prince showed no sign of the torment it caused.

"Lilith, Galla, prepare him."

"Yes, Highness," Shedim said as the mass of demons fought each other for the chance to touch their newest conquest. Chris Larabee signaled the onset of the feast and the creatures were hungry for blood. The taste, the smell, the feeding frenzy that would be unleashed when one brother took the life of another. The hour of darkness was almost at hand, but the thirst for blood was only just beginning. Tonight would see them released from the confines of this Inn, and would set the sentinel in his rightful place at the gates.

"I will return for him shortly, but there is something I must do to make sure no one can interfere with the festivities," the high demon said, before shifting into the familiar black crow and flying through the open window.

Galla released the restraints and reached for the unresisting body. They needed to mark him and dress him in the dark robes that would hide his identity from his friends until the time was right to reveal him. He watched as Lilith stepped forward and knew the bowl in her hand contained the ritual blood of the first sacrifice made so long ago. He pulled the dark prince to his feet and smiled at the blank look in the green eyes.

"We must hurry, Lilith for I fear the hunger will consume us before we finish," Shedim said as a circle of robed figures surrounded them completely. Some hung from the ceiling, some clung to the walls, but most continued to fight for space, as if their salvation meant being close to this man.

Lilith smiled as she stepped up to the man who would release them. She placed the bowl in her husband's hands and dipped her right thumb into the thick substance as the familiar chant began once more.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo...Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo..."

The demoness lifted her hand and showed the blood on her thumb before marking Larabee's forehead with the sign of evil.

Chris could feel the evil surrounding him, but could not fight the hypnotic sway of the demons and the escalating chant from the grotesque creatures. He could not move, could not speak, could not feel, yet he understood what was happening. He screamed, yet no sound escaped as Lillith's thumb touched against his forehead. Her touch burned as she marked him and he found himself joining in the chant as his mind slowly gave in to the evil presence.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo..."

"That's right, sweet prince. Tonight is the night of sacrifice and your hand will spill the blood of your brother. Your soul will forever be blackened and your heart will no longer feel anything but death." Lilith quickly marked his chest with the inverted cross and stepped back as her husband moved forward.

Galla stood in front of the chosen one, a black robe draped over both arms.

"This is your ritual cloak, dark prince. It will be worn by you at all times and never be removed," the demon explained as Lilith took one end and stood on Larabee's right side. They lifted the cloak and eased it down over the blond head, carefully avoiding the marks Lilith had made. They eased his arms into the sleeves and sat him back on the bed.

"Soon, sweet prince," Lilith said as the gathered throng watched over their chosen one.

---

Ezra pressed against the walls, leaning heavily as he sought a way out of his prison. He had no idea how long he searched, but knew he could not quit. Too many people depended on him and he would not let them down. As if something heard him the wall seemed to crumble under his touch and he felt through the opening he made. He cried out as bright light nearly blinded him, but blinked rapidly in an effort to clear his vision. What he saw could not be real, yet he knew it was...he'd found his way out, but had landed in Hell.

"Buuuccckkkk!" Standish stammered as hands latched onto his arm and began to drag him into the candle lit room. There were so many the heat from them made him perspire as he was forced to kneel and his arms were held behind his back. Wilmington was being passed from one demon to the next, held high over head until he was dropped beside the gambler.

"Ez...Ezra...the hell's goin' on?" the ladies man asked as they were dragged forward.

"I don't know...I don't think I w...want to..."

"What the hell is it they're singing!"

"...n...not singing...chanting...some kind of chant!"

"Jesus!" Wilmington cursed as he saw their destination. The hideous creatures continued to chant, their dark robes hiding the grotesque forms as the horde pulled the captives forward. They tried to fight, but they were no match for the legion of demons surrounding them and soon found themselves kneeling in a circle of darkness.

---

They'd been riding through the hottest part of the day, making very little headway and yet they would not give up. Even their horses seemed to understand it was necessary to go on. The heat swam ahead of them giving the land a surreal quality that added to the journey they were undertaking. A journey they hoped would end in the banishment of evil, but could very well end with the destruction of the world. Josiah saw it first, perched on the desiccated trunk of a long dead tree. The eyes were wrong, yet he understood what he was seeing. This was not a simple harbinger of death; this crow represented the annihilation of the human race. He drew his horse to a halt, knowing his two companions would do the same.

"Josiah?" Dunne asked, his voice laced with uncertainty as he looked at the bird before them. It seemed to grow, stretching and melding into a new shape as they watched. The crow soon turned into a man, but the eyes continued to glow a deep crimson color as the mouth turned up into a hideous smile.

"You are looking into the face of evil, JD...remember it and never turn your back on it!" Sanchez said, grabbing the younger man's arm as JD went to turn away. "Face it, Son, for what you can face you can defeat!"

"But..."

"Josiah's right, JD, we need you...the others need you," Jackson said.

"How very true, Nathan Jackson!" the smooth voice seemed to come from inside their heads as the vile creature before them remained still. "They need you, but you will not be able to help them. Leave now and perhaps I will spare you..."

"We will not forsake our brothers!" Sanchez vowed.

"But you will arrive too late to save them and you will die with them!"

"If the good Lord means for us to die then so be it, but we will not let you have them...any of them!" the ex-preacher said.

"What can a defrocked priest know, Josiah Sanchez? Your God will not help you because you have lost faith in him!"

"That's where you're wrong, dark angel. I have not lost faith in God. I had lost faith in me! We will save the others and bring Chris Larabee home!"

"You can't stop us!" Jackson spat contemptuously.

"We're stronger than you think!" Dunne told the newcomer.

"Perhaps you are, but you will be too late...you already are in fact. Chris Larabee has already surrendered his mind to me and tonight, when the red veined moon is high overhead, and the stars begin to dim he will take the life of his brother and his soul will be mine forever!"

"NO!" Sanchez shouted as the shape shifted back into a crow and flew off.

"Come on, Josiah, JD, we need to get moving!" Jackson insisted.

"How much further?" Dunne asked as the black speck disappeared in the distance.

"Not far, Son. Satan is toying with us and has been blinding us to what we need to see. Open your minds and your hearts and let God guide us from here on. We must not let the devil control what is happening...for their sakes as well as ours!" Sanchez told them and urged his mount forward once more.

"The Lord is my Sheppard I shall not want.
He maketh me to Lie Down in Green Pastures;
He Leadeth me beside the still waters.
He Restoreth my soul;
He leadeth me in the paths of Righteousness for his namesake.
Yea tho I walk thru the Valley of the Shadow of Death,
I shall Fear no Evil,
For thou art with me
thy Rode and Staff Comfort me..." he continued to repeat the psalm, and his voice was joined by Nathan and JD's as they took the path that could lead them to Hell.

---

They dragged him along the corridor, tearing at his shirt with razor sharp claws that lacerated the flesh underneath. Vin clenched his teeth, digging in his heels in an effort to slow their journey. The mass parted, pushing him along until he stood before a set of iron doors. Each one held a carving of demonic beings standing before an altar of blood. The handles were bones, and Vin had little doubt that they were human. He stood his ground as a chant began and the doors began to swing inwards.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo. Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo..."

Again he was moved forward, his legs rubbery as the noxious scent of sulphur and something intoxicatingly sweet assaulted his senses. Candles cast a flickering light over the immense chamber as the swaying multitude continued the now familiar chant. He felt his body grow heavy, his mind dulled by whatever was in the air. A hand, oozing green fluids, clamped down on his shoulder and he stood still as a bent and disfigured creature stepped in front of him. He tried to speak, but the glowing green eyes held him enthralled as his clothes were stripped from his body and a black silk robe was draped over him and again he was led forward until the hand stopped him once more. He felt alone, defenseless and very vulnerable to the throng of on looking creatures, yet he could do nothing to stop what was happening. His eyelids were heavy and he fought to keep them open as several more hands touched him, lifting his body and lying him on something cold. He stared upwards, aware of nothing beyond the sound of the chant and the cloying scent that permeated the great room. His lips moved and he tried to speak, but nothing but air escaped.

"Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo. Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo. Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo. Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo. Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo. Omni...insi...rashando...somni...nosturum...roshindo..."

Buck and Ezra heard the difference as the chanting intensified and the demons before them parted to reveal an altar of stone and ivory. A red cloth was draped over the top, inverted crosses on each side, a black candle sat on each corner, casting an evil glow over the entire scene.

None of this registered on the two men as their eyes lit on the area on the opposite side of the altar. Vin Tanner was being led towards them, but did not seem to hear or see anything.

"Vin!" Standish called.

"Jesus! Vin! Wake up!" Wilmington shouted, wincing as something struck him between the shoulder blades. Still there was no movement as Tanner's body seemed to levitate until it was stretched out on the sacrificial altar. Buck turned to see the horror on the conman's face and knew his own showed the same terrified emotion. This was the dream he'd had before, the only difference was that Chris Larabee was nowhere to be seen. Something told him it would not remain that way for long.