Follows on from Cuddling by the Campfire. Once again, I don't own the boys and make no money from these stories.

Stirring lazily, Vin rubbed his cheek against his unusually hard and warm pillow, wondering what the steady noise was that kept thudding against his ear. Awareness suddenly flooded through him as he registered the hand on his back and the body he was curled up against. His pillow was Ezra! Going by the gentle breathing, his friend was still asleep, so Vin tried to stealthily disentangle himself only to be gathered in closer.

"Hush, Vin, all's well," mumbled Ezra sleepily, the hand he'd had on his gun coming up to rub the arm Vin had stretched across the gambler's stomach. Giving the arm a light squeeze, his hand returned to cradle the Remington at his side. The hand he had on Vin's back started rubbing comforting circles. He had been automatically comforting his Texan friend whenever he became restless throughout the night, never fully regaining consciousness to do so.

Slumping against the southerner again, Vin felt his face flush with embarrassment as the previous night flashed through his mind. He remembered coming completely undone emotionally and how his heart brother had faithfully held him until he found the strength to put the pieces back together, or at least gather them up. Not once had Ezra let him go, in fact he still didn't seem to want to let go of him. Suddenly, Vin grinned as he imagined what a picture they must make lying as they were on the crumpled blankets. His grin turned into a chuckle as he thanked the powers that be that it was Ezra and not Buck that he was draped across, since the big-hearted lothario might have mistaken him for one of his lady friends. Buck's special brand of comforting would have been an awkward awakening for the two men. Sighing, he lay in the early morning sunlight and enjoyed the sense of kinship he'd found with the quirky southerner.

Unfortunately, despite how relaxed he was, his mind started to whir. Memories returned of one of his earlier foster homes, where it had been his job to wake the family's natural children after he completed his other early morning chores of raking over the banked coals and starting the breakfast fire, getting the oatmeal cooked and the coffee brewed, milking the cow and collecting the eggs. His bed had been a pallet of old blankets near the kitchen fire and he'd been grateful for it after the chilly barn he'd slept in at his previous foster family's farm.

But he could still vividly remember the longing he'd felt every morning when he'd go to wake the three boys born to the Watson's and see them curled around each other in a pile in the middle of their big bed. Every morning for the six months he'd spent with them, he'd wanted nothing more than to crawl into that bed and be included in the familial warmth of that huddle. But he knew by the sly pinches, sneaky trippings and harsh words that he received from the boys when they were awake that he wouldn't be welcomed, so he'd sadly called for them to wake up and get their breakfasts. Then he'd gone on to his outside chores, having eaten the meagre bowl of unsweetened oatmeal he was allowed as it was cooking, leaving them to their own more lavish fare and leisurely lives.

Blinking back tears, the Texan snuggled closer to his friend and sighed sadly. Even though it had been hard work and lonely, that had still been one of the better places he'd stayed after his mama had died, leaving him all alone in a harsh world. He'd not been beaten by the Watson's and Mr Watson hadn't wanted him for anything more than a slave, unlike the adults in other places he'd found himself in. That led him to darker memories of the last foster home and Mr Owens. Shuddering, he felt again the terror, helplessness and shame he'd felt as an undersized eleven year old waiting for the sound of the monster returning to the cold, dark, dank cellar that he was locked in. He was only ever released from his prison to make the evening meal for his captor. It was during one of these respites that the homestead had been raided by some renegade Indians, who had slain the monster and freed him from his living nightmare.

Ezra had been hovering on the edge of full wakefulness, enjoying the warmth of both the rising sun and the fraternal love that welled up in him at the trust Vin had shown in him. The fact that the tracker had only been able to sleep if his head was over the gambler's heart was proof of his trust. Every time one of them had shifted in their sleep, removing Vin from the comforting beat within Ezra's chest, the troubled Texan had started to slide into nightmare. Each time, the southerner had stirred and gathered his brother closer, feeling truly humbled that he was being allowed such liberties. Ezra had only been shown that level of trust twice before and neither time had ended well, but he hoped that the third time was the charm.

Vin kept most people at bay with his wild appearance and quiet nature, as well as the aura of a lone wolf that he seemed to unconsciously exude. The combination seemed to discourage most people from getting too close, and inspired a few of them to mother him, the most notable being the redoubtable Mrs Wells. A lazy smile slide over the gambler's face at the thought of the wizened old crone who had appointed herself caretaker of the scruffy Texan. After a rocky start, Ezra and Nettie had achieved a mutual understanding whereby they would outwardly despise each other whilst secretly being quite fond.

Suddenly concerned at feeling tears seeping into his shirt, Ezra tightened his hold automatically. When he heard his friend's breathing become fast and shallow, he snapped to attention. Lifting his head to scan their surroundings, he saw no external danger, so lifted his hand from his gun and used it to smooth Vin's wild hair.

"Vin? Are you alright?"

Jolting back to the present, Vin turned his face into Ezra's chest and clutched a handful of his jacket using the smell and feel of his friend to anchor himself.

"Are you alright, Vin," asked Ezra again, his accent thick and his voice still rough with sleep, turning to hold on more firmly to the shaking tracker and continuing the petting of the shaggy head on his chest.

Voice muffled, Vin replied, "Sorry, Ez. Cain't seem to let ya go jist yet."

Relaxing slightly at the sound of the Texan's pronounced drawl, Ezra kept carding his fingers through Vin's tangled hair, as he soothed, "Take your time, my friend, I'm not going anywhere."

Ezra's easy acceptance of the situation relaxed the tense tracker. Forcing his fingers to unclench, Vin then made his cramped and shaking hands smooth out the creases he'd made in Ezra's clothes. Finally, Vin managed to convince himself to let go and pushed himself into a sitting position. Pulling his legs to his chest, he hugged them as he hid his face in his knees, rocking slightly.

Sitting up with a silent groan as his back protested the night spent on dirt rather than a feather mattress topper, the gambler put his hand on his friend's back and waited for an explanation. The whole body tremors causing Vin to shudder beneath his touch worried him enormously. Finally, unable to contain his concern, he asked, "What is it, my friend? Another dream?"

Unconsciously leaning closer to the warmth of the southerner, Vin shivered violently and muttered, "Not a dream. More like a nightmare. One I lived through."

Concerned that Vin seemed to be in some sort of shock, Ezra reached back for one of his blankets and wrapped it around the slight man. Rubbing his hand up and down the bowed back, he offered, "Might help to talk it through with someone."

"Ain't never told no-one 'bout that time in my life, Ez. Some things are best forgot, I reckon," replied the tracker, clutching the blanket tighter as he desperately tried to fend off the chill that seemed to have pervaded his body.

Gently reaching into the blanket folds, Ezra hooked a finger under the Texan's chin and lifted it so as to look into the teary sapphire blue eyes. Once he was certain of his friend's attention, he said solemnly, "But you can't forget, can you? Whatever it is keeps tormenting you in your dreams and refuses to be forgotten, doesn't it?"

Fat tears welled in wide blue eyes until they fell at the slight shake of the head, sliding down pale, stubbled cheeks as pure misery overwhelmed the younger man. Reaching out to the southerner, he thumped weakly at his friend's chest before clutching at the scarlet jacket as he cried, "He won't leave me alone. Make him leave me alone, Ez. I cain't take it no more. Every year the nightmares come back. I cain't sleep, cain't eat, cain't barely breathe. I just want it ter stop. Make it stop."

"Alright Vin, it will be alright," soothed Ezra, holding his friend tight and rocking him gently, suddenly wishing that Josiah or Chris were with them. After hearing the raw pain in the tracker's plaintive wail, he wasn't sure he was the best equipped to handle this sort of crisis. But, since he was the only one here and his brother needed him, he would do his utmost to help him. "You need to tell me who it is though. Tell me what haunts you."

With that permission, words tumbled from Vin's mouth in a desperate torrent, unleashed after years of suppression. He told of the degradation of Mr Owen's attentions, the shame he'd felt as the vile man had blamed Vin for tempting him to sin with his pretty face and lithe body, the way he'd been left in pain in the cold and dark afterwards, how he'd cry for his ma night after lonely, miserable night, how he'd wished someone would come and save him, how he'd become so desperate that he even wished for death so he could leave the misery behind and join his ma. Once all the words were out, he curled up in Ezra's arms and held his breath, waiting for the condemnation and rejection he knew would come after his terrible confession.

Tears streamed down the gambler's face as he listened in anguish to his heart brother's ordeal. It was an ordeal that had been echoed more than once in his own dark childhood, so it came as no great shock to hear of the depravities of this Mr Owen. Outrage sparked in his soul though, to hear that his gentle brother had been used so cruelly and he burned with the injustice of life. But he kept a tight rein on his anger, knowing that Vin needed kindness and quiet understanding over rage. So when Vin ran out of words and clung to him, Ezra merely held his emotionally battered friend more securely and said firmly, "You did nothing wrong, Vin. That... that animal was deranged and was entirely to blame for his actions. I'm most grateful that your Indian brethren removed such a blight from the face of this Earth, though I wish they'd done it sooner for your sake. You were nothing but a sweet, innocent child who should have been cherished and protected like all children."

Taking the slight man by the shoulders, Ezra pulled him away from where he was hiding and shook him lightly, commanding, "Look at me. Vin! Look at me! You. Are. Not. To. Blame! Not at all. Understand?"

Once he'd seen the wonder in the tear washed blue eyes and seen the slight nod of acceptance, Ezra pulled Vin back into a tight hug. Overcome by his emotions, Ezra had to stop speaking and began to hum the same lullaby as the night before, hoping it would bring some comfort.

When the feared rejection didn't materialise, Vin was stunned. Instead, he found himself being rocked in an an even tighter, more reassuring embrace after being absolved of all blame. The first harsh sob of relief tore itself from his chest, quickly following by a succession of others. After some time had passed, his harsh cries softened to relieved weeping before finally he stopped with a few hiccoughing breathes. Sniffling, he basked in the loving acceptance being offered so freely.

A sudden breeze blew over them, causing some of Vin's long locks to blow over Ezra's face, catching on the gambler's stubble and lips. Blowing the hair out of his mouth, the southerner chuckled quietly as he reached up to smooth his friend's hair back down. The chuckle turned to a hearty laugh when Vin's stomach loudly protested it's emptiness.

"Feeling a little peckish, are we?"

Giving Ezra a final squeeze, Vin pulled away and rubbed his hands over his face roughly. Feeling lighter than he had in a long time, Vin echoed the chuckle and rasped, "And parched. With all the blubbing I's bin doin', it's a wonder I ain't dried up and blown away."

Making an impatient noise as he watched the tracker make an unholy mess of his dirt and tear smeared face, Ezra reached for his canteen and his clean handkerchief. Moistening it, he gripped his friend's prickly chin before quickly and efficiently cleaning his face.

Giggling like a kid, Vin swatting the gambler's hands away lightly but without any real intention to stop him. Instead he let Ezra finish before drawling, "Guess I should jist be glad yer didn't clean me up with yer spit, like my Ma used ter."

Shuddering theatrically, Ezra offered another clean handkerchief to the tracker, gesturing for him to blow his nose and saying, "Good lord, Mr Tanner, did she really? I suppose I should be thankful that neither Maude, nor any of my other female guardians saw fit to lick me clean like a cat and her kitten."

Swatting Ezra's leg as the other man stood, Vin cried, "Ma didn't lick me, ya idjit, she licked the hankie then rubbed the dirt offa me with it."

Feigning his astonishment, the gambler gazed down at the younger man, secretly marvelling at how childlike he looked with his wide shining blue eyes and innocent smile. Reaching down to offer his friend a hand up, he said, "Ah. Still, quite a repulsive habit that I'm glad to have escaped. Also, given the acidic nature of my dear Mother's tongue, I doubt I would have survived the process unmarred. Now then, what say we take care of our morning ablutions and then head back into town for a hot meal and a decent cup of coffee?"

Standing with his hand gripping Ezra's arm in the same warrior grip that he usually used with Chris, Vin turned serious again. Wanting to thank his friend, he was overcome with emotion and found himself frozen.

Curious at the prolonged hand grip, Ezra looked up into his friend's eyes and was mesmerised by the gamet of emotions that flooded them. Pulling Vin into a hug, he murmured, "Anytime you need to talk or just want company, you come find me. Promise?"

Crushing the gambler to him, Vin rasped, "Promise."