DISCLAIMER: All characters from "The Magnificent Seven" series are the property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide, CBS, and anyone else with a legal right to them. All other characters are the creation of the author, and the events in this story are from the author's imagination. Those characters and the story belong to the author. The author wrote this story for her own personal pleasure and the pleasure of the reader and is making no money off of it.

Rating: strong violence and some coarse language.

DEFIANT TIL THE LAST

As they reached the crest of a small hill Vin suddenly stopped and sucked in a breath, raising his hand in a sharp motion, indicating to stop. Buck immediately reigned in his horse and looked to Vin.

"What is it?" he asked.

Vin didn't spare him a glance but said quietly and with urgency, "Go. Ride hard. Tell Chris it was a trap."

Buck was about to question him further but reacted to the sense of urgency in Vin's voice as he whispered harshly, "Go-now! I'll cover you and follow!"

Buck made haste. Something was very wrong here, more than Vin was saying, but he knew as well as anyone that Vin's instincts were to be trusted. They had saved everyone's ass time and time again.

Gunfire erupted at Buck's retreating form and he heard the bark of Vin's covering fire. He gave his horse another urgent kick, hoping against hope that Vin was behind him.

Vin continued firing, watching as Buck retreated safely into the treelike below. A few riders gave chase before a shout of "Hold fire!" came in a loud commanding voice. "That wasn't him, he's still up here. Get the men back to search the hill, he's still up here somewhere."

Vin knew he couldn't make a break for it now. They'd ambushed him well, he'd give them that. He would have to make a stand here, had known it when he'd told Buck to go for help. He'd fought against bad odds before, but there were at least ten men that he had counted so far. He took his position in the harsh undergrowth and took out his knife. This was no time to be making noise.

Patiently he waited until his first assailant was within arms reach. Snaking out his arm he slit the man's throat, silently pulling him into the undergrowth with him. Another man soon followed and met the same fate then a third, who managed a short yelp before taking his place in the bushes. Vin cursed, that yelp could cost him.

"Wes?" another man called, having heard the cry of his companion and Vin almost grinned, the idiot have given away his position precisely.

He was close, only a few feet away now and Vin tensed, ready again. He was numb now, devoid of emotion, efficiently doing what he had to, what he was best at. Killing… surviving.

"C'mon," he thought to himself, "That's it…"

Another man emerged then. "Where's Wes?"

"Don't know, somethin's goin on. Where's Charlie an' Lem?"

Regardless, they both kept coming, closer, closer…

Vin had to reach a little further out from his cover to stab the first man in the heart before leaping to the stunned second man and swiftly ending his life, deeply slicing his throat, almost severing the head in the process.

Blood covered him now, hot, thick and putrid and they were alert to him. Men were heading quickly his way. One fired in his general direction.

"Alive!" he heard an order, the same authoritative voice that had called the cease fire. "Don't kill him!"

The wanted him alive, huh? That was hard to achieve when aiming at a moving target. Satisfied that he'd evened the odds some, Vin drew his mare's leg and began to run to his horse. Seeing Peso standing patiently where he'd left him, he quickly shot the man guarding him, not breaking stride. Almost within arms reach of the reins he felt a burning agony in the back of his thigh and stumbled. It didn't stop his flight and he got one hand on peso's reins, ready to use his momentum to swing himself up, but his stumble cost him. It gave the men time to get closer and it was enough for one to grab his leg before he could swing himself up.

He changed plans fluidly, turning and half kneeling and raising his gun all at once, shooting the man grabbing his leg point blank before he felt another searing pain, this time in his arm. He lost his grip on his rifle and cursed even as he reached for it.

"It's over, Indian lover."

Vin paused with his hand on his gun and looked up to see a huge man towering above him, flanked by six men. The large man was toying with a small silver knife and Vin looked down to his wounded arm to see an exact copy of that knife protruding from deep in the muscle. He knew this man by reputation, Joe Cutter was the name he was referred to. He was legendary for killing his adversaries with the specially crafted blades he kept around his belt. Vin could see at least three more of them hanging there, waiting for a chance to be let loose. Again he eyed his gun, his hand tightening on the smooth grip.

"Don't even think about it son," Joe warned, hefting his knife almost casually.

As if in confirmation, the other men raised their guns, all cocked and ready to fire and with a sigh Vin moved his hand away from his weapon in surrender, preparing himself to wait for a better opportunity. He raised his arms as best he could, indicating his surrender but before he could get his feet under him to stand another shot rang out and he found himself flung backwards by the impact of another bullet in his shoulder.

The men looked at each other in confusion, quickly finding the one among them that had defied orders and shot the prisoner. Then the men parted and Vin, now having struggled back to his knees, looked up to see the man he had first noticed when he'd ridden up the crest of the hill with Buck. The man's attention was on the cowboy that had shot him though and his face bore a look of pure rage.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted at the man who was still holding his gun aimed at Vin.

"He killed my brother!" The man said back, gesturing at Vin, clearly wanting to finish him off.

Before the argument could continue there was another shot and the cowboy was dead. End of discussion.

Still holding his smoking gun the leader said to the rest of the men, "We talked about this, you obey my orders or you die. You wanna get paid you do as I say, it's that simple. There's no room for getting personal, you're getting paid too much for that. You don't like it leave now."

The men all stayed where they were, although most avoided eye contact with their boss. They weren't going anywhere. He was right, it was damn good money and jobs that paid this well didn't come along every day.

The leader's attention then fell on Vin and all Vin could make out was the twisted smirk on the man's thin lips. It was all he could do not to shudder at that look. It was a mark of the evil the man held inside and Vin's own hatred shone through his pain infused eyes.

"I see you remember me Tanner..."

Vin stayed silent as the man looked him over, eyeing the knives sticking out of him and the blood that was flowing freely from his shoulder. He took in every detail of his face, older now than the last time they had met and no doubt tight from the pain he was feeling. It was just the beginning, that much Vin knew.

"I'm offended, Tanner. No howdy for an old friend?"

Vin almost growled. "Who could forget a sick bastard like you Merris?" His voice was low and raw, but deceptively calm.

The grin vanished. "Careful son, or I'll forget my plans for you and kill you right here."

"Go ahead," Vin replied, managing to get his feet under him and standing shakily, determined not to cower before the bastard, "Do it. I'm not a little kid you can mess with any more."

Ignoring him, Meriss turned to his men. "Where's Wes, Jackson…?"

"Dead Colonel." one of the men answered. Gesturing at Vin angrily he continued, "The bastard's like a fucking Indian, slit their throats. They didn't have a chance."

There was a short silence as the men took this in and then Meriss asked quietly, "How many?"

"Wes, Jackson, Phillips, Cobes, Tez…. Five."

Another silence. Meriss looked at Vin, not surprised but unable to hold back a grudging respect for this man and his talent either. He had been a talented marksmen from a young age, but Meriss had never realised how much potential he had really had back then.

He knew the men around him feared the long-haired Texan. He knew for a fact when he had been putting men together for this job that there were some that didn't want any part of taking him down, some out of fear and some out of respect for what they had heard about him. It was well known that he was trained by Indians and knew how to truly hurt a man if he wanted to. As slight in build as he was, he was solid and lean and moved with the graceful stealth of a predator. They had feared him before they had even witnessed his skill in killing a man first hand, based on his reputation alone. And well they should too, he thought, although none would ever admit to it.

Still, there were men that loved the hunt, wanted to be first in line to bring down a man with a reputation like Tanner's. He'd counted on them being enticed by that alone yet alone the money he was offering up. It was these mean sons of bitches that he had gladly paid to help him finally achieve the one goal that he had nurtured for too many years. Since the day a young boy had turned on him and left him for dead in an alley.

With that thought he snapped sharply "bring him to the camp, we'll head back to the property," and turned and left without a backward glance.

Joe walked up to Vin and with no ceremony and pulled the knife from his shoulder. The prisoner made no sound so he turned and moved behind him, pulling his other knife from his leg just as efficiently. Vin winced, but still made no sound. That one had lodged deeper than the first.

Vin met the man's eyes for the briefest of moments as he came to stand before him again and saw no emotion in them. He was simply a hired man, paid to do his job. It wasn't personal for him. But Vin's eyes promised retribution all the same.

He was led back to the camp. Struggling with his wounded leg he was shoved forward, falling hard before being dragged back up roughly and shoved forward again to get moving.

Three men covered him as they bound his hands and feet and threw him to the ground near an old tree, trying him to it while they packed up to move out. To the casual observer, he appeared almost relaxed, but he was watching them all intently. He silently weighed up each man as he took stock of his injuries. They were a rough lot, but they were seasoned killers, all of them. For whatever else they lacked, they could kill men with ease. They looked to know each other well and seemed loyal enough to the man paying them. Whatever their motivation they had stayed when they had the chance to leave, so they were seeing this through. And they were definitely pissed at him for killing their friends, if they were merely objectively carrying out their duty before. This was definitely not looking good.

Chris and the rest of the boys were in the saloon meeting with Travis Jones, a local rancher. He was having problems with cattle theft and they were turning over the possibilities as to who might be taking them.

Chris sat quietly, not fully able to focus on the problem at hand. His mind was on Vin and Buck who had set out early that morning to track a government officials' missing horse. What hadn't sat right with him was the way in which the official had specifically asked for Vin. He had apparently heard that Vin was the best tracker in the area and had demanded his help to find his valuable possession. Chris had asked Buck to go along, with no argument from him. They had all thought it a bit suspect the way the man had demanded Vin on the job. Buck, too, had been worried and went along willingly. If the man knew enough about Vin's reputation to know he was a damn fine tracker, there was the chance he'd heard enough to know he was a wanted man.

Buck had ridden hard to get back to Four Corners. They'd been a good half days ride away when they'd been ambushed and dusk had well settled by the time he reached the outskirts of town. It hadn't taken him long to realise that Vin wasn't following him, neither were the men, for that matter. He'd circled back and seen them take Vin and he'd known right then that it was him that they had wanted and if they'd wanted him dead, they would have done it already. He also knew that he needed help, there were too many of them for him to deal with alone. As much as it nearly killed him to ride away and leave his friend there, he knew that the only chance he had for surviving whatever they had planned for him was to get him help. This had been one big set-up and as grim as it was, Buck knew they weren't going to end it quickly given the amount of planning they'd put in place. Time Vin had, but how it would be spent was something he couldn't think about. His only thought was to get him the help he needed before it ended.

He saw the saloon ahead and once more spurred his tired horse forward.

Chris looked up as the saloons swinging doors burst open and a tired and weary Buck stormed in, his face intent as he looked for them.

The men were on their feet instantly.

"What is it?" Chris asked, straight to the point. "Where's Vin?"

"Ambush." Buck said simply. "It was a set-up, they were after Vin." Downing the drink thrust into his hand as Nathan pushed him to a chair he told them how Vin had sensed the danger and covered his escape before he was taken.

"Who was it?" Chris asked in a low voice, one that all five men knew well as indicating a calm before the storm. "Was it the government official?"

"I don't know, I couldn't make out the leader," Buck said. "There were too many of them around him. There were at least ten left when I saw Vin get taken down." He looked up at Chris who was standing above him, his body rigid and waiting for the chance to fly into action. Chris liked to have all the information he could, though, before he entered a battle. "He was hurt, on the ground, but I couldn't make much out. They wanted him alive though, I heard the order not to kill him so I knew I had to get help. There was too many of them."

Chris studied Buck's face a moment and nodded, putting one hand on his old friend's shoulder as he started moving to the door. The time for talking was over. He knew all he needed to know.

The others all moved to follow and Buck got up wearily to do the same. He knew he'd need another horse for the long ride back.

They'd thrown him over a horse, strapped down with just enough give in the ropes to let him suck in shallow, dust-filled air. Another man sat on Vin's horse, under order from the Colonel, his fear evident as he waited with certainty to be thrown off the ornery beast.

Vin had lost feeling in his arms due to the wound and the harsh bindings holding his hands behind his back and it was all he could do to concentrate on pulling in air as he was jostled and bumped with the horses movements, his chest pummelled continually by the hard saddle.

He hoped Buck had made it back. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew his friends were his only hope now. The colonel would never let him go alive. Thinking of Buck caused him to frown in thought. Why hadn't they pursued him? It was a mistake to let him ride out, surely they knew he would return with reinforcements...

They rode on through the night and Vin started to doze, he had lost enough blood to make him feel sick and weak. His mind recalled the time years before when Meriss had treated him like a son, not that Vin had had anyone to compare that too.

Vin was a natural marksmen and Meriss had spotted him out hunting one day. It had taken little to get the skinny, ragged little boy to follow him and his men into missions for the army. He convinced Vin that the people they were killing were murderer's that had to be stopped and that they were working under orders from the government to help innocent people. Vin was young and naive enough to believe that an army would only act with good intention, that they were bound by rules of honour. Meriss's strict leadership did not surprise Vin, he'd spent years with a Grandfather that had punished him for the smallest mistakes. When he had met up with the Colonel, he had believed that his life was worth little, that being beaten and abused was a normal thing to be endured. He was tired of being alone, always scavenging for food and watching his back from predators, animals and humans alike. The Colonel had never laid a hand on him, so he had stayed. But he watched what happened to men who did the Colonel wrong and remained wary.

They were camped on the outskirts of a town and Meriss had taken him with a few men to case out their next mission. Leaving them to drink in the saloon for a bit he had wandered to the livery. He always felt more at peace with animals than humans and sought out his horse. It surprised him when a man had stepped out of the shadows of a stall to talk with him. He had felt instantly that the man meant him no harm. It was in his face and most especially in his eyes. He had thought that he knew how to read people well back then… He remembered his face as he had spoken to him in the dim light of the stable. He'd told him that he knew why he was in town. He's said that he knew that Meriss was good to him and that he was loyal to him, but that his trust was misplaced. He told him that Meriss was using him to do bad things, to kill the wrong people.

Vin had gotten mad when something in the man's tone stopped him from speaking out. He'd quietly said, "Son, there have been others before you. It's not your fault. You're young and he has used you wrongly. You're a good kid, I can tell. Meriss gives you a chance at regular meals and a place to sleep, it's OK that you don't believe me and it's good to be loyal, but he's going to ask you to kill a young boy." At Vin's protesting face he held up his hand, "Just hear me out. You are here to kill a young boy and no matter how he justifies it, that boy is innocent. You, too, have been an innocent… until now. You kill that boy and you do it knowing that it's wrong. They want to punish the boy's father for getting in their way and they aim to do it by sending him a message by killing his innocent son. You do that son, you're stepping over the line…." He'd waited until Vin had met his eyes, "and I don't want to see that happen to you." Vin had been upset and was torn between protesting and asking the man why the hell he cared what happened to him, he'd never met him before, when the man had turned and said he had to go before they saw him talking with him.

He'd been quiet on the return to camp, although he hardly ever spoke anyway so nobody thought anything amiss. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he was looking at Meriss with new eyes. He had no idea who that man had been or what his agenda was, but everything Meriss said and did from that point on seemed to be slightly off centre to Vin. Had his own selfish need to belong somewhere blinded him to what was going on?

It was a few days later that Meriss told him their plans in town. Walking through the town he laid out how it would go down, who would be where during a street celebration the next day to welcome a new minister to the town. Finally he told Vin to observe a man down the street, the new minister. Next to him was a boy younger than Vin, laughing with a little girl who held his hand and looked up to him, sharing a joke. Vin's heart had begun to race. Maybe he'd known it on some level before, but hadn't wanted to believe it. Meriss was using him to kill people, and the people didn't deserve to die. He listened as Meriss told him the rest of the plan to take out the boy and remained quiet, as always, giving no indication that anything was wrong.

That night he hadn't slept well but knew what he had to do, no matter what it cost him. In some way he had to start atoning for his sins. The killing had to stop.

The celebration was in full swing when the minister took the stand at the makeshift podium and began to thank the crowd for the warm welcome they had given him and his family, standing beside him. That was Vin's queue. He looked down his scope from his position on the roof of the general store and saw the young boy, looking up at his father so proudly and with such love that it almost hurt him to watch. He began to squeeze the trigger of his rifle, slowly edging it down, barely breathing in his concentration. Finally he fired… and missed, the shot hitting barely inches above the boys' head and sending the crowd into a mad panic. The minister gathered his family behind him and began to move towards a building.

Vin leapt down from the roof and ran madly for his horse. He knew that Meriss would come after him and he had no time to waste but when he got the alley he found Meriss already holding the reins to his horse whilst seated on his own. The look on his face was one Vin would not soon forget. He'd seen it before, but never directed at him and it never ended well.

"I missed." Vin had said calmly.

"You don't miss." Meriss's eyes were so cold Vin began to sweat. "Get on your horse," he'd ordered.

Vin got up and Meriss kept his hold on the reigns as he urged his own horse forward, heading towards the podium where the minister had last stood with his family only moments before. He rode on, heading past a building and then guiding them into an alley at its side. There Vin saw the minister, trying desperately to shelter his children and wife from harm. Vin saw their eyes, round and full of fear. Fear of him. He'd felt sick.

"Finish it," Meriss demanded, and Vin turned to look at him, then back at the boy, now crying openly.

"This is wrong, Colonel. Ain't right ta kill a boy, he ain't done nuthin' wrong."

Meriss looked at him as if he'd sprouted another head. Perfect, silent obedience was all he'd had from the boy, until now. He was livid and struck out instantly, nearly knocking him from his horse. "You're disobedience has cost the whole family boy. Now we have to kill 'em all, thanks to you."

Vin was appalled. He couldn't stop looking at the children, their tears and wide eyes were destroying him. Then the minister spoke, "Please, spare my children… my wife… it's me you want…."

"I wont do it any more, I aint doin' it, this's wrong." Vin said, feeling himself being closed in, his back to the wall. His mind was reeling, trying to find a way to escape the whole scene.

Meriss looked at him a moment, his rage almost audible. Then he raised his gun and shot first the father and then moved his rifle to the wife. Before he could get the shot off he was thrown backwards and flew down to the ground. Vin lowered his smoking rifle and looked down at the man he had trusted. The shot was right in his chest, a mortal wound, but he had no regret.

"It's wrong what you do, Colonel. I aint gonna let it happen no more." He turned to the minister's wife. "I'm sorry ma'am. Get him help," he indicated the minister on the ground, writhing in pain. He turned his horse and sped the back way out of town, not stopping for anything until he was long gone and knew they weren't following him.

Following that was one of the longest years of Vin's life. He knew how to survive, had done it for years before he'd met up with the Colonel, but now that he'd known what it was like to be a part of something, he was lonely this time. When he met up with two Indian braves about his age out hunting one day, he knew he was entering into the next phase of his life. He'd felt an almost immediate sense of peace when they'd asked him to join them after some time.

Over the years he had learnt much from them about life and what was truly important. With their help he became a good man, and was able to forgive himself for the time he had spent doing Meriss's bidding. He learnt to worry about the present and what lay ahead, not things in the past that he couldn't change.

The sudden halt of the horse beneath him brought him awake. Dawn was upon them and they had halted on a rise and met with more riders who led them down to what Vin thought was a veritable fortress. There were numerous buildings and the place appeared impenetrable. He was beginning to lose hope and was determined that if he was going to go down, he would take the colonel with him.

They entered the compound and Vin was untied and pulled roughly from the horse. He stumbled and fell, weak from his wounds and the long ride and unable to use his hands to break his fall. He got to his knees but was kept there by a hard hand on his shoulder from Joe. Truth was, he didn' think he would have made it to his feet right then.

The riders dismounted outside the main stable and the colonel called over his shoulder, "You know where to put him," as he went to the main building.

Once again he was dragged up and shoved forward. He concentrated on keeping one foot in front of the other as he was led into a small building around the rear of the main house and shoved inside a door. His heart froze as he realised there was nothing in the room save for a table and chair. It was glaringly obvious that this room had been prepared just for him. It looked like it had been recently cleaned out and just the chair and the table were there to occupy the space. Like they didn't want anything else getting in the way. And the purpose of that room was also obvious. The items laid out precisely on the table told him that. This was definitely not looking good.

He was led to the centre of the room where there was a length of rope hanging from a thick beam. He'd missed that, trying as he had been to intently avoid looking at the table. Joe and two others circled him. One pulled a knife and moved to cut his ropes. His hands free, Vin's instincts had him lunging sideways, kicking the knife from the man's hand and grabbing it in one swift move as it fell towards the ground. Unprepared, the man could only gasp as Vin thrust the knife deep into his throat, kicking out at the other man at the same time and delivering a solid blow to his chest.

He was extricating the knife to use again when he was punched hard to the side of his jaw and stumbled on his injured leg. Joe followed up the blow with another punch to his head and he felt his bottom lip explode under the impact. He staggered back again before he felt an agonising burning in his shoulder where the man he had kicked had grabbed him from behind and was applying pressure to his bullet wound with his thumb. He cried out involuntarily, more a howl of frustration and was yanked forward by Joe, his arms caught and bound fast before being pulled roughly above his head and his wrists strapped to the beam by the rope. His feet barely touched the floor, forcing his arms to bear most of his weight and the pain in his shoulder had his vision blurring at the edges. The rough rope bit instantly into his wrists and he hung there a moment, breathing shallow breaths as he tried to adjust to the new position.

"You'll pay for that," the outlaw said angrily, still holding his ribs and moving forward with deadly intent.

Joe turned to leave. "Don't kill him," he said and left them alone.

"That was my friend you killed you savage bastard!"

Vin didn't speak, just kept his gaze steady on the man before him.

Disconcerted by the lack of emotion in the smaller man the outlaw hesitated, then looked again to his fallen friend and the blood pooling from his throat. He began with a hard punch to Vin's already bruised jaw and proceeded to beat the living hell out of him.

Just as the darkness was truly taking over his vision the blows stopped abruptly. He looked up to see the colonel holding the man's arm back, his face a blatant mask of outrage.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" he raged, taking in the sight of Vin's battered and barely conscious form.

Vin was conscious enough to feel the keen sense of de ja vu. The last man hadn't gotten away with it either. He took some satisfaction in that.

"He killed Bryant," the man said simply, gesturing to his dead friend. The colonel was silent a moment, when he spoke again his voice was low, deadly.

"I thought I made it clear when I got everyone together not to let this man get to you, that it wasn't personal for you," he said.

"It got personal," the man spat back.

"You're an idiot Simmons," the colonel said, pulling his other arm up to reveal his gun. He aimed it at Simmons' head and with no further preamble, sent the man to hell with one shot.

Vin had known it was coming but he still flinched as the blood sprayed his face and chest and the man dropped to the floor, clearly dead before he hit the ground.

Men came running at the sound of the gunshot. Several burst through the door and stood trying to work out the scene before them.

"Colonel?" one asked, looking at the still smoking gun in the colonel's hand.

"Take these bodies out of here," was the short reply. As an after-thought he added, "I'll say this one more time, I will not tolerate weakness amongst my men. I gave an order not to touch this prisoner and I will not tolerate disobedience."

The men looked at him silently and for a moment it looked like their would be trouble but the Colonel was nothing if not shrewd and calculating.

"Simmons' pay will get spread round the rest of you equal I full once the job's done."

And as easy as that the men stepped forward to gather the fallen bodies and drag them outside, their eyes flicking to the man hanging by a rope in the centre of the room as they left him alone with the colonel.

"Finally," the colonel said as the door closed behind the men. He moved to the single chair and simply sat, leaning back like he was in a bar after a long day.

He remained silent so long that Vin was tempted to give in and peek up at him through his hair. As it was his head was hanging down and he couldn't see through the hair over his face. Maybe Buck was right, maybe he needed a haircut.

The silence stretched on and Vin knew that the man was trying to unnerve him, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was being patient. Finally though it seemed the Colonel came to the same conclusion and rather than have the silence stretch indefinitely he got to his feet, loud enough to make sure Vin knew he was approaching him.

The Colonel was angry all right, but it was aimed at the cuts and bruises marring his prisoners flesh already. No-one was going to get the satisfaction of hurting this man but himself.

He grabbed a handful of the long hair and yanked Vin's head up to meet his gaze, startled by the clarity in the blue eyes. So the son of the bitch had just been waiting him out.

"Get on with it you gutless, sick bastard. What're ya waiting for?" Vin said in a surprisingly strong voice and the Colonel couldn't be sure but he thought he saw a slight smirk on the bloodied mouth.

He recovered quickly though. "You never learn Tanner. Even now you refuse to bend, but I will break you. I owe you that much and more. You've been a thorn in my reputation for years and I aim to make sure that ends tonight."

"Go ahead Meriss. Reputations outlive the man. Your men all fear me, they've seen how I get under your skin. They'll always know I was better'n you, that it took an army of 'em to bring me down cos you couldn't handle me alone." He looked up at his tied hands ruefully, "Least not without hog-tyin' me first." He looked back into the Colonel's eyes. "In killin' me, you lose again."

The colonel wasn't a stupid man by any means, not easily goaded, but damned if every word the bastard said wasn't true and he knew it. His anger was palpable. He'd spent years hearing about the man Vin Tanner had become. Tales and gossip followed him everywhere. Whispers of Indian learnings, of murders and gun slinging friends. He'd never taken the time to find out what sort of a boy he'd been all those years ago, had only used him where he'd needed to. Now he knew that in that quiet boy had been a quick and cunning mind.

Meriss used his free hand to backhand Vin with force before stepping back, visibly trying to control his anger. He had all night, he didn't want to get carried away and spoil his plans.

Chris and the others had ridden hard through the night, the bright light of a full moon allowing them to push on instead of having to wait until dawn to set out. They reached the site of the ambush as the sun was beginning its slow climb into the sky and were looking for signs of which way the men had gone with Vin.

"Over here!" Ezra suddenly called, crouched on the ground.

Chris and Buck moved over and saw blood covering the ground.

Nathan was searching some nearby bushes and called out, "There's a lot of blood here, a lot of scuffling around… sweet Lord!"

All six looked up sharply.

"What is it Nate?" Josiah asked, straining to see where Nathan was looking.

Chris quickly moved to Nathan's side as he peered into some undergrowth. "What's-?" His question was cut off when he saw what Nathan had, than answer plain. He moved further in and saw the bodies, piled on top of each other, 3,4,5…"Jesus," he whispered softly.

"What is it?" Buck asked, straining to see.

"Help me here," Chris said, dragging the first body out.

Nathan and Buck helped until all five dead men were lying flat on the open ground.

"What the hell happened to them?" JD asked in horror.

"It appears Mr Tanner was not taken without a degree of resistance," Ezra stated.

"How many were there if they still managed to get him after he took out five of them?" Nathan asked.

"At lease fifteen then," Buck said, for he'd seen ten left when Vin had been taken down.

"He was being quiet about it, must have hidden here," Chris said, indicating the bushes where the men had been hidden. Chris was in leader-mode, he had to be if he was to stop himself from quickly becoming insane with worry and guilt.

The men were in silent awe. Each knew that in the same situation with the odds so high against them they would most likely not have gotten so far. These deaths had been silent, cunning. They had all known that Vin was a talented hunter, but had never before been witnesses to the brutal carnage that now lay in his wake, however necessary it had been. There was a new healthy respect forming amongst them.

"This one's been shot," Nathan looked at the ravaged gut of the man closest to him. There was more of his stomach outside than in. "I think..."

Chris's mouth quirked at the obvious damage of Vin's mare's leg, but it wasn't a smile. It was more of a tip of the hat to his absent friend.

"Vin's gun?" JD asked.

"Must've shot at close range," Buck thought out loud, for it was obvious.

"Must've been out of options," Josiah said solemnly.

They were all silent a moment, taking that in, thinking what to do next.

"So now what? And who the hell are they?" Buck broke the silence impatiently. He wanted blood. He was dealing with his own guilt and anger and was growing more agitated by the minute.

"This one looks kinda familiar," JD said, studying the one they had called Wes. "Might've seen him on a wanted poster or somethin'."

"Most likely JD," Josiah said.

"Lets search for tracks," Chris said.

It wasn't hard to find the trail. There were still nearly ten riders and they had made no effort to cover their tracks.

"Lot of riders for one man," Josiah commented, meaning 'they wanted Tanner bad.'

Chris studied the ground in front of him, trying to keep his emotions in check. Getting angry wasn't going to help get his friend back, but he was worried, damn worried and the trail wasn't headed to Tuscosa. Whatever this was, it was personal and the riders were confident, not caring who followed. All he could do was pray that Vin stayed alive and as alarming as the thought was, facts were this had taken a lot of planning, so it was obvious they didn't plan on killing him quick. "Hold on Pard, we're comin, you hold on."

The door opened, casting a sliver of light on the body that hung limply inside the sparse cabin. He appeared dead already, but if you looked close enough, his chest was still moving painfully in and out.

Vin heard the Colonel approaching but didn't raise his head. He was damn tired and fading fast. His arms now took all of his weight, his legs unable to hold him any longer and the strain on his shoulder had long since stopped bothering him. He couldn't feel his arms any more and he wasn't sure if he should be grateful for that.

The crack of a whip was the next sound he heard before his head was once again yanked up. Damned if he wasn't going to just cut his hair off if he managed to get out of this mess. That thought brought a smile to his lips. That would make Buck happy at least, stop him hassling him every second day about getting a hair cut.

"Still cocky Tanner?" I'm gonna do this nice an' slow so you don't die on me too quick. I've waited a long time for this."

"Man's gotta have a dream," Vin murmured, but the Colonel heard him all the same and his jaw clenched angrily.

He nodded to the third man in the room and he stepped forward, cutting the already tattered shirt off Vin's back and dragging it down. The knife bit into Vin's skin and he hissed with the shock of it. Before the Colonel could say anything the man apologised for his clumsiness, sincerity nowhere near his voice.

"Stand outside the door," the Colonel commanded the man who obeyed silently. He couldn't afford to kill every one of them, tempting as that might be.

Vin waited, preparing himself for a pain he had hoped never to endure again. It had taken years for his old scars to fade and here it was, starting over.

No amount of preparation could have helped him from the agonising lash of the whip as Meriss toyed with him, well known for his mastership of the weapon – and his cruel use of it. Indeed Vin had seen him use it on men more times than he liked to remember.

Meriss hadn't intended to lash out so hard this first time, but sick as his mind was he took to the task with passion once he saw blood start to surface. He pulled his arm back again and again, waiting for some sound, any noise at all, to come from his prisoner. It was several minutes later that he stood silently, looking at the criss-crossed mess of Vin's back and his limp, lifeless body, and realised he'd passed out.

Frustrated he moved to the door.

"Bring me water!" he barked to the man outside.

Vin was floating somewhere in a dark, painful hell all of his own, not quite conscious and yet not completely free of the pain that consumed him. Freezing cold water thrown over him roused him again and he blinked to clear his eyes, opening them to focus unsteadily on Meriss's cruel stare.

"Welcome back Tanner, ready for another round?"

"Whatever you have to do Meriss," he said hollowly.

Meriss struck out, slapping Vin hard with the back of his hand before grabbing his jaw in a painful grip and staring into his defiant blue eyes. "You'll break, Tanner. Everyone has their limit, we'll reach yours real soon."

"That so?" Vin said. He knew he shouldn't challenge him, but couldn't seem to stop himself.

Meriss almost snarled. "I'm going to make you beg me to kill you before this is over."

Vin mustered his waning strength and gave him a hard stare. "That's not gonna happen," he said with quiet conviction.

Unable to contain himself Meriss began to pound him, punching him with painful, lowly dealt blows to his stomach and chest until Vin again passed out. The position of his arms restricted his ability to pull in air and the shorts breaths were getting to him.

When he woke again it was still dark but he was alone. He let a low moan of utter pain and desolation escape his throat, unheard by another living soul. He hurt everywhere. Why couldn't he just stay unconscious?

A short while later Meriss entered with Joe and another man Vin didn't recognise.

"Jesus, you've had a good time hey Meriss?" the man laughed, eyeing Vin with obvious amusement.

"Just do what I'm paying you to Alvis and hurry up," Meriss snapped.

"Alright, alright," Alvis said, not intimidated in the slightest. "You'll have to hold his mouth," he said, nodding to Joe.

Joe grabbed Vin's jaw and pried open his mouth. Vin could see Alvis fiddling with a vial of dark fluid and felt his panic mount. Physical pain he could deal with, as long as his mind was clear and he could focus on it, but this...

The man approached him and he began to struggle, trying to tear his jaw out of its painful hold, causing the wounds on his wrists to tear open and blood to again flow from his shoulder wound.

"Hold him still," Alvis said moving forward, having seen the same reaction many a time and looking almost bored.

Vin's struggles only increased as Joe took a firmer grip on him from behind him, one arm preventing his body from swaying and the other coming around his neck, fingers clamped to his jaw and prying his mouth open.

"For God's sake," Meriss said in frustration. He stepped forward and pistol whipped him, just the right amount of practiced force to his temple to stun him and yet keep him aware of what was happening.

Vin's jaw relaxed while they held his mouth open and poured the liquid in. He tasted the foul liquid as it filled his mouth and closed his throat to it as Joe closed his mouth and held it tightly shut. The man called Alvis covered his nose and pinched it shut cutting off his air completely.

Vin closed his eyes, out of options, not that he had had any to start with. He held his breath as long as he could, knowing this was one situation he wasn't going to be able to wait out. Until he swallowed they weren't going to give him any air. Seconds turned into a minute.

"He's a tough one hey, Meriss?" Alvis said, watching the concentration and determination on the young man's face even though his eyes were closed. He knew it was only a matter of time though, it always was.

"He wont be strong for much longer," Meriss returned confidently. "Keep the pressure on tight," he said both men holding Vin, "this outta do it", and he punched Vin in the stomach, hard.

Unable to let the forced air out Vin began to choke through the hand covering his mouth and nose. To his horror, he swallowed reflexively. Seeing this, the hands were removed from his face and he gasped for air, sure he'd inhaled most of the vile stuff as he coughed and gagged in reaction to both the blow and the burning fire down his throat.

Meriss merely smirked.

"Fuck you, Meriss", Vin gasped raggedly, struggling to get his breath back. "This the only way you can beat me? You know… that one on one… you'd be dead, an' everyone else knows it too you weak bastard."

"Nevertheless Tanner, I've won. However you choose to look at it, you're at my mercy... and soon you'll be dead." Meriss's voice reflected calm. He was controlled for once, refusing to be goaded with his victory so near in sight.

They left him then to succumb to the liquid coursing down into his stomach, soon to take a hold of his body and mind. He attempted to throw it up to no avail, a small empty heave as much as he could produce from his aching chest, not able to move his body enough to help him.