The sun had set as Colt and Cass arrived at the partly deserted Novac. Inky blackness covered the land with the moon shining brightly and casting long, dark shadows. The town was quiet and asleep. The only source of light was from the main office of the Novac apartments. They strode past a deserted gas station and a small Brahmin ranch and walked into the main office to rent a room.

An old woman, Colt guessed she was in her early sixties, was sitting behind a counter in a semi-square to his immediate right. Cass went to sit on a chair that was a part of a waiting room arrangement and listen to the radio as Colt arranged the room.

"Ah, some new faces in town? I'm Jeannie May Crawford. You can call me Jeannie May," the woman said as she stood and stretched out her hand. Colt shook her hand. "Welcome to Novac. Would you like a room or…"

"Yes," Colt answered bluntly, "we just want a room. It's been a long couple of hours."

"Oh, I understand," Jeannie turned around to the wall and pulled a key off of one of the hooks, "it's tough out there in the Wasteland. Especially since the NCR took Hoover Dam and are making constant troop movements," she set the key on the counter, "Ten caps a night."

Colt dug into one of the pouches on his belt and pulled out a handful of caps. He counted out twenty and put the rest away. He dumped the twenty caps on the counter and took the key. "We'll be staying two nights."

Jeannie nodded as she scooped up the caps and put them away. "As you walk through the open gate, go up the set of stairs to your left and your room is the fourth door down. Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, ma'am," Colt nodded, tipping his hat to the lady and he walked out the door with Cass following. They walked through the gate and turned to go up the stairs on their left when a door in front of them opened. A man stepped out of the far room and was striding across the motel's parking lot. He was wearing a white shirt, faded green pants, and a red NCR beret. Colt tipped his hat to the former NCR trooper, as he did to Jeannie May, but the man ignored Colt. He walked past, without a second glance, and strode towards the dinosaur that overlooked a small strip of 93.

Colt ignored the man's attitude and walked up the steps, with Cass, and along the patio. Walking past boarded up windows and doors with peeling red paint, they came to their room four doors down. Colt whipped out the key and unlocked the dark red door, twisting the cold brass knob to open it. He stepped over the threshold in to the muggy and humid motel room first and switched on the lights. Sickly green wallpaper was pasted to the walls, some of it torn in places. A window was next to the door and it was boarded up with decaying two-by-fours; no light was able to enter the closely nailed together wood. There was a single queen sized bed in the middle of the room with end tables on both sides. Bright blue covers and two white pillows rested on the worn out bed. In front of the bed was a broken Pre-War television sitting on a small table; what use it was to them, Colt didn't know. Off to the right, next to the door and in front of the window, was a small table with a radio and a small dining chair with torn, pale leather cushions. At the back of the room was a door leading to the bathroom, which consisted of the regular toilet, bathtub and sink.

Colt and Cass laid their weapons and bags on the bed. Cass made a beeline for the bathroom.

"I'm gonna take a bath," Cass said as she opened the door, which made a loud screech. Colt looked at her, nodded and sat on the rough, leather dining chair. "Unless, you want one first."

Colt looked up, "Nah, I'll be fine. I'm just gonna watch the door. In case any Stallions or anyone else decide to make an appearance."

Cass nodded once as she disappeared into the bathroom. After a few minutes, the water in the bathtub turned on and Colt felt the room, instantly, become exponentially more humid. Colt ignored the humidity and picked up the M16 assault rifle that he found in an Old War military base. There was a large stockpile of the standard issue, Pre-War military weapons there. He stole one of the slick, black assault rifles for himself and notified the NCR military about the rest of the stockpile. They generously paid him with a large sum of NCR money, which he had changed into caps when he got close to the Mojave Wasteland.

Colt ejected the curved clip out of the rifle and dug into one of the pouches that decorated his belt. He pulled out ten 5.56mm rounds and began reloading the clip with the brass bullets. After the clip was refilled, he slammed the clip back into the rifle and pulled the bolt back, loading the rifle's chamber with a brand new bullet. Colt switched the rifle's safety on and leaned it against the wall in a corner next to the bed. He then cleared off the bed and put both bags and Cass' shotgun in the same corner with the assault rifle. He sat back down in the chair and switched on the radio to Radio New Vegas.

"Mr. New Vegas here," the voice of the radio broadcaster called out as the radio switched on, "with the news. First, we have a wonderful bit of news in this dull, dull world. The NCR has taken Hoover Dam and pushed Caesar's Legion back into Colorado. General Oliver, who lead the battle for the NCR, declared that 'this was an enormous victory for the NCR and more victories are sure to follow as we push Caesar and his Legion farther and farther back into Colorado'. General Oliver also went on to thank a mysterious wanderer, our old friend the Courier, who helped NCR forces push back the Legion."

Colt pulled out his engraved lighter and his pack of cigarettes. He took out one of the cigarettes, stuck it in his mouth and lit it. After a few second of inhaling tobacco and nicotine, Colt removed the cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. "Thank you, Courier," he said as he placed the cigarette back in his mouth and inhaled more tobacco.

"The Courier," the radio broadcaster continued, "Who has made quite a name for himself around the Wastes, helping people from Searchlight to Zion Canyon, moved into the Legion's forward base camp, with the help of a group of NCR Rangers, and killed Caesar's current Legate, Legate Lanius. With that, Caesar's Legion is currently without any military leadership and is in a full retreat. They abandoned The Fort, their over watch position of Hoover Dam, and are retreating back into Colorado. The NCR will raise their flag at The Fort tomorrow with the NCR's president, Kimball, in attendance along with other major NCR political and military leaders.

In related news, reports say that major NCR officials are talking about annexing our wonderful city, New Vegas, into the NCR before the month is out. That's all the news we have time for. Now, I leave you with a song that's my personal favorite, 'Ain't That a Kick in the Head'." The broadcast was cut off for a split second, but continued when the song began to play.

Colt puffed out another plum of smoke and then drew his revolver. He laid it out across his hands, inspecting it; it was dull in several areas. Colt turned around and began to dig into his bag and pulled out a bottle of polisher and a white rag. He uncorked the bottle, pressed the rag against the opening, and dipped the rag over and over again, soaking some of the rag in the polish. He began to rub the gun with the part of the wet rag, polishing it.

The water running in the bathroom stopped. After a few minutes of silence, Cass stepped out of the bathroom still in her torn blue jeans, faded pink plaid shirt, hat and rose pendant. She threw her jacket on one of the nightstands. Colt ignored her and continued to polish the revolver. Meanwhile, Cass slipped into the bed, underneath the covers and laid her head against the head board, looking up at the ceiling. After a minute or two, Colt felt her eyes shift from the ceiling to him and revolver.

"So," Cass began, "can you tell me what the Stallions actually did to have you track them half way across the southwest?"

Colt stopped polishing the revolver. Silence engulfed the room for a whole minute before he answered, "I already told you; they destroyed my livelihood. Now, I'm just trying to repay the favor."

"Colt, there's more to it than them destroying your ranch or shop," Cass said in a sincere tone, "They did more than that. I've traveled all this way with you. The least you could do is tell me exactly what they did."

Colt heaved a heavy sigh and set the revolver down on the table, the rag underneath. He removed the cigarette and began fiddling with it in his hands in an uneasy and unsure manner. He didn;t want to tell her the story... but she did come all this way with him. He d=owed her an eplanation.

"My family," Colt said as he held his head down and began his long story, "owned a ranch in the NCR. Spiritson Livestock n' Crops. We supplied three of the largest NCR states with food and other essentials. We helped a lot of people; a lot of good people. But…" he froze for a minute, his fists clenched tightly. Colt destroyed the cigarette he was holding and felt the burn of the embers, but ignored them. A cool tear cascaded down his face as he continued, "One day, when I was nineteen, I was away at Shady Sands, buying medical supplies that we were low on and that's when the Stallions came to the ranch. They burned the farmhouse, the barn, and the crops. Hell, they even burned the livestock," Colt wiped away a cold tear that was falling down his face, "Then they gathered my family and the ranch hands in the Brahmin pen, lined them up, and… shot them," Colt gasped, holding back waves of tears, "I got to the farm just as the gang was leaving. Do you know what they were doing as they left? They were laughing. Laughing at me as I broke down and cried. Laughing at the pile of bodies in the Brahmin pen. They laughed…" Colt turned and looked at Cass, another tear in his eye. Even though he was sorrowful, he had fury and fire in his eyes, "Now, I'm hunting them and I'm going to kill them. Every last one." He wiped the tear away, took another cigarette from the pack and lit it. He puffed out another cloud of the black smoke and continued to polish the revolver. "You reap what you sow; force answers force, war breeds war, and death only brings death. They want death? Then death is what they will get… and it will be brought to them by my hands."

Silence dominated the room once more. All that could be heard was the radio playing songs and the squeaking of the rag rubbing the polisher on the revolver. The anger still burned in Colt. He showed it by harshly polishing the revolver and the movements he made. Cass continued to watch Colt polish the weapon and noticed the anger he had towards the Stallions. Cass broke the silence, trying to change the subject from the past… but, the revolver was apart of Colt's past.

"Where'd you get that revolver?" Cass asked, still watching Colt.

Colt continued to polish the gun and puffing out smoke, "Where'd you get that pendant?"

"I asked you first."

Colt's mood changed and he let out a smile at Cass' childish antics. It didn't matter; he was glad that the subject changed from a painful past to a story he took pride in telling. He puffed out another plum of smoke.

"I got the revolver from my father and the lighter from my mother. They've both been in my family for generations. Every first born son is supposed to get the revolver from his father and the lighter from his mother when he turns eighteen. Luckily, I turned eighteen a year before the ranch was raided. Otherwise, I wouldn't have either," he finished polishing the revolver, laid the rag aside and took the revolver's handle in his right hand. He then picked up the silver, engraved lighter in the other hand and held them up for Cass to see, "You see, my great, great, great, great, grandfather, before the War, stole a block of silver from a mine he used to work at. Then, he took the block of silver to a gunsmith who made a chunk of it into a .357 magnum revolver and engraved the stars on the barrel and the eagle on the handle. There was a little bit of the silver left over, so, he had the rest made into a lighter and had the same eagle on the revolver's handle engraved into it. He gave it to his wife. That's how the tradition started.

They're two of a kind; made from the same block of silver. You can't have one without the other. The eagle," Colt pointed to the engraved eagle on both heirlooms with his thumbs, "represents the Spiritson's free spirit. Hell, that free spirit is the whole reason why my grandfather was able to have the damn things made... its also what made him legally change his name to Spiritson. My grandad was never fond of the name O'Rielly. Anyway, every Spiritson has a free spirit; it's in the genes, I guess. We've all been known to go out into the world, do what we want, and make names for ourselves. If you don't have a free spirit and you're name is Spiritson, then you're adopted," Cass let out a small smile at the joke. Colt did as well, "And the first born son, to continue the tradition of the father giving the revolver and the mother giving the lighter, gives the lighter to his wife when he's married. That's the whole story of these two of a kind items."

Colt set down the lighter. He turned and began rummaging around in his bag once more. After a minute of searching, he pulled out a small pipe cleaner he used to clean his weapons. He opened the revolver's cylinder and shoved the pipe cleaner up and down the barrel, cleaning it out. Colt was the one who broke the silence this time, "Now, can you tell me where you got that pendant? Ever since we left the Mojave Outpost, that thing has shined the damn sun in my eyes."

"This thing?" Cass asked as she picked up the pendant that was resting on her chest. "My father gave it to me. Goes along with my name 'Rose of Sharon Cassidy'."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Wow," Colt said, surprised at the short story, "I thought there'd be some kind of ancient tradition revolving around that pendant. Kinda like this revolver and lighter."

"Nope. My father gave it to me because of my name."

Colt nodded as he continued to clean out the revolver's barrel. He inhaled some more of the tobacco and blew out another cloud of smoke. "It's a nice pendant; very beautiful. It brings out your eyes."

"Thanks, but that flirting will get you nothing but a black eye," Cass remarked as she smiled.

Colt scoffed, "Your loss." He had begun to hum along to the song on the radio while cleaning the gun's barrel. He interrupted his humming with another question for Cass.

"Hey, Cass, what happened to your parents?" he stopped cleaning the revolver for a minute and turned around.

"My parents?" Cass started to mess with the pendant around her neck and continued her story in a low voice, "Well, my mom was a tribal and my dad was a wanderer. One day, my dad found my mom and they hit it off. Luckily, my dad was a horny old bastard or else I wouldn't be here."

Colt raised an eyebrow, "That's one way of putting it."

"Yeah," Cass smiled, "That's what everyone says. Anyway, after a while, they settled down. Well, my mom did. When I was young, my dad left for the East. We never saw him again. My mom became sick after that, but, she managed to live long enough to get me through my teens. After she died, I was on my own."

"Must've been a hard life. How'd you ever get along at such a young age?" Colt turned back around and continued to clean the inside of the revolver's barrel.

"I just traveled from place to place. I imagine you did the same."

"Yeah. Just traveling from town to town. It was in a bar in Hub where I heard about the Stallions fleeing NCR territory and coming here. So, I followed them into the Mojave. That's when I met you. But enough about me," Colt said, sick of remembering his past, "please, continue. How did you make money to support yourself?"

"Well," Cass said, continuing her story, "after I visited a town enough times, people got to know me more. Then they started asking me to deliver packages to other settlements and paying me money to do so. That's how I got started in the caravanning business; it just built up around me."

"I guess it got pretty big after that."

"Pretty damn big, yeah."

"You've must've met a lot of people on your travels."

"Yep," she stopped playing with the pendant and looked at Colt, "but no one quiet like you."

"Are you flirting with me, Miss Cassidy?" Colt asked as he stopped cleaning the weapon, turned around again and smiled.

"No, but if you take it as anything other than words, you're going to get that black eye I mentioned earlier and that stupid grin's going to get wiped of your face," she answered. She eventually cracked into a smile, "But, there's something about you… I don't know what it is."

There was something about Cass... Colt didn't know what it was either until their eyes met. A connection was created; a connection that sparked embers as numerous as the stars. He didn't know what it truly was, but it was strong; stronger than the atomic bombs that dropped on the Mojave centuries ago. Unfortunately, Colt broke the connection, but, the embers still burned as he readied for bed.

Colt holstered his revolver and discarded the pipe cleaner to the floor. Removing the cigarette from his mouth, Colt smothered it in an ash tray and turned off the radio before Mr. New Vegas could start another news broadcast. He put the pack of cigarettes and the engraved lighter back in the pouch he pulled them out from. Then, he unhitched the clasp that was tightening the chest plating to his torso, allowing him to take deep breaths. He removed the chest plate and shoulder pads as one, stood up and draped the torso piece over the back of the rough, leather chair.

Then, he began to disassemble the rest of his armor as he sat on the bed. He mulled over many things as he did so. Even though they had a connection, Colt still wanted to know why Cass followed him. More importantly, he wanted to understand why they had this connection in the first place. He didn't even know how he felt about it. Colt didn't rightfully know the answers to these… well, except for how he felt about it… and it felt right to him. He couldn't answer what made her follow him or why they have this connection, but it all felt like it was meant to happen; that it needed to be. He knew better not to question it further… him meeting Cass was the only good thing to happen to him after his ranch was destroyed and his family was killed. Their meeting was the only ray of light in an entirely dark room.

Colt set the armor that protected his calves and knees on the dining chair's seat cushion. Then he rested his leather utility belt on top and slid his boots underneath the chair.

"Well," Colt said as stretched his arms out, "I think its time we get some sleep. We have to check out that lake bed tomorrow," he yawned as he got underneath the covers.

"Yeah," Cass said as she rolled over, putting her back to Colt, and turned off the light on the nightstand.

Colt turned off the light nearest him and closed his eyes, so he could get some sleep. The connection between him and Cass was strong and the imaginary embers still burned on the bed… but it wasn't strong enough to keep away the same nightmare he's had since the day he discovered the destroyed ranch.

He was standing in a field of black ash and rubble. His hands and face was covered in the ash and soot. He had shifted through the rubble, looking for something, someone who may have survived… but he found nothing. Ahead of him was a Brahmin pen, but there were no Brahmin inside. Instead, there was a pile of lifeless forms. A pile of bodies; men and women innocently murdered. Colt felt cold and he collapsed to his knees. A group of men were walking away from the pen. They wore black jackets and they laughed at the people they killed. They laughed at the teenage boy sitting in the rubble. They laughed… Colt pushed his hands to his face, trying to wipe away an endless wave of ice cold tears. Nothing could take away the cold; the coldness he felt for the loss of his family and friends.

All of a sudden, his body was flushed with a warming sensation. The ice cold left and it was replaced with a warm feeling. Colt opened his eyes from the nightmare; Cass had pressed her body against his and she wrapped her arm around his waist. Colt smiled, a warm tear fell down his cheek, and he placed his hand in hers. He closed his eyes and fell asleep once more. This time, he dreamt of a small farm. There lived a man, a woman, and their two children; a boy of eighteen years old and a girl of five. The son had just received a revolver from his father and a lighter from his mother. The little girl was wearing a rose pendant.

A/N: Okay, I may have tinkered with Cass' character a little bit, but it all sets up for the rest of the story. Oh, and I may have taken a little quote from a game/book I like. Yes, the quote "You reap what you sow; force answers force, war breeds war, and death only brings death" came from Metro: 2033. It sounded like it applied greatly here and that it would fit beautifully with the rest of the story, so, I put it in... that basically means, for knowing the quote, Colt has read and is a fan of Metro: 2033 ;)