All Hallows' Eve by Maggie Warning: Graphic violence.

Come one, come all, and ye will watch the Seven fall. They protect, they serve, but what do they truly deserve? A bleeding heart, a steady hand, where, oh, where shall I begin? I pray for you, you pray for me, but let me tell you what the Devil sees. Am I real, am I not, go check out my graveyard plot. An evil thought, an evil mind, this is what ole Satan's sought. Yes it's me, no not you, who will give the Seven's due. What to do, where will it be, just wait for me on All Hallows' Eve. ~ Maggie

"Come on, JD, let's go." Buck Wilmington stood just inside the jailhouse door and was motioning toward the Four Corner's sheriff, who was sitting behind the desk.

"I can't, Buck. I'm waiting on the stage. I promised Ms. Nettie I'd pick up the package that's suppose to be on it." Dunne shook his head at his friend. "I'll be on over to the saloon after that."

"Well, alright, but you'll miss all the fun." The gunslinger began to pout.

JD sighed, "I promise I'll be there in time for the big show, so go." The sheriff started to grin, as Wilmington whooped with joy and ran from the building. You'd think he was the kid.

Dunne slid down into his seat and grabbed the dime novel he had been reading earlier, hoping to distract himself from the party noise from across the street. It was All Hallows' Eve and apparently Inez felt very strongly about the holiday. The sheriff had just resumed reading the page he'd stopped on, when a noise on the porch caught his attention.

JD put the book down slowly and started to rise from the chair, but before he was halfway up, the window shattered in front of him. Shards of glass and window chips rained down on him. He threw his arms up to cover his face from the particles. The shower of debris abruptly stopped, but a hissing noise soon replaced it.

Dunne lowered his arms and looked toward the sound and felt his heart drop to his knees. A stick of dynamite lay only a couple of feet from him and the fuse was almost gone.

"Oh God," JD took a step toward the broken window in hopes of jumping out before the blast, but his hopes were dashed when a horrendous roar and a hot breath slammed into him, picking him up off the floor and sending him flying. The blackness overtook him but didn't last but a split second.

JD opened his eyes slowly, assessing his body for injuries. Amazing enough, there was no pain. Actually, there was a feeling of nothing. The sheriff lifted his eyelids completely and felt the bile rise at a rapid rate, for there, lying in front of his face was one of his legs oozing blood. But what really had the youth panicked was the limb wasn't attached to anything.

Dunne looked away quickly to escape the sight, but only encountered another one even more gruesome. An arm was lying a foot behind the leg, also covered in blood. The sheriff could feel himself losing control and did the only thing he knew, he screamed.

"BUCK!!!" Over and over again he yelled, but it was like an echo. There was no one else around, no sound, no nothing. So, he screamed some more. "BUCK!!!!" Then his prayers were answered.

"JD, JD!" Wilmington was bending over his friend and was frightened by what he saw. "Kid, come on, snap out of it." Buck shook the youth frantically, trying to get him to wake up from whatever nightmare was gripping him."Come on, kid, ole Buck's here." Finally the hazel eyes snapped open, but the look of pure terror that was reflected there made the gunslinger flinch."JD, you with me?"

Dunne blinked several times until the older man came into focus."Buck?" JD reached up and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Yeah, kid, it's me. You all right?" Wilmington let the youth go and sat down beside him on the bed.

JD swallowed a couple of times before nodding his head yes. "Yeah, I think so. That was the scariest dream I've ever had." The sheriff started to tense visibly as scenes from the dream started to replay.

"Easy, son. You're alright now." Buck patted his shoulder reassuringly, as he stood up. "You think you'll be okay until morning? It's only a couple more hours to sunrise." Wilmington watched panic cross the youth's features."Okay, okay, how about I just bunk here on the floor. That okay?" The gunslinger grabbed the extra pillow and blanket from the closet and made a bed on the floor.

"Thanks, Buck." JD smiled sadly, remembering the last time someone had to sleep in the same room with him because of a bad dream.

"Anytime, kid, anytime." Wilmington gave Dunne a smile, then settled down for the night.

+ + + + + + +

The seven men gathered at their usual table in the tavern for breakfast. The dawn had broke an hour before, casting a brilliant yellow light across the land, but the shadows adorning the youngest face had them oblivious to the beauty.

"You alright, JD?" Nathan Jackson leaned in closer to the sheriff, who was sitting beside him.

"Yeah, Nate, I just didn't sleep well last night." Dunne tried to give the healer a smile, but failed.

"You sure, that's all?" Jackson looked a little closer and could see the worry lines along the kid's eyes.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"I think he's fine, Nate. He had a pretty bad dream last night and I think it still has him a little shook up." Buck patted the youth's shoulder gently, before picking up his silverware.

Nathan didn't want to push too hard, knowing that all the men were as stubborn as worn out mules when it came to being fussed after. "Alright, but if you have anymore trouble sleeping, let me know and I'll give ya something."

JD nodded and Jackson went back to his meal.

They all ate in silence, which was somewhat odd for the group. They were never very talkative, but they would at least discuss the day's events. It seemed as if they were all caught up in their thoughts.

"I think I'll ride out and take a look around." Vin Tanner rose from his seat, leaving a full plate of food behind.

"You want some company?" Chris Larabee glanced up to his best friend, already knowing the answer.

"Nah, I should be back by noon. I'm just gonna go check the Samson farm. Mr. Samson's been complaining about some livestock missing." The tracker pulled his hat onto his head and started to turn.

"You be careful, Vin." The sharpshooter stopped suddenly, when he realized it hadn't been Chris who spoke, but Josiah Sanchez. Tanner glanced toward the preacher. "Something wrong, Josiah?" Vin watched the mixed emotions cross Sanchez's face.

"Not that I know of, just have this feeling." Josiah locked eyes with the other man, trying to somehow explain his paranoia.

"Alright, I'll see you boys later." Vin tipped his hat and then disappeared through the batwing doors.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Mr. Sanchez?" Ezra Standish pushed his empty plate aside and eyed the older man across from him. "Is the spirits at unrest on this All Hallows' Eve?"The gambler smirked at his implications toward the undead.

"Get real, fancy pants, there are no ghosts." Buck snorted, as he dumped more maple syrup on his pancakes.

"Ah, I agree with you whole-heartedly, Mr. Wilmington, but I do believe our preacher feels otherwise." Ezra raised an eyebrow in question to Sanchez.

"There are two things I believe in, Brother Ezra and that is good and evil. And as in the Celtic times, I believe that the evil that has died this past year may come back looking for new homes." Josiah raised his coffee cup and pondered more on what he'd just said.

"What kind of homes?" JD leaned forward to look at the preacher.

"Bodies. It is said that the Celts believe that on All Hallows' Eve, those who had died the past year sought out new bodies to live in again. But they only had until the end of day to do it and if they failed, they would be condemned to hell for eternity." Josiah's baritone voice had them all entranced in the story.

"You don't really believe that, do you Josiah?" JD stared wide-eyed at the preacher.

"No, but I do believe in the power of evil, JD. And if there is one thing evil hates, it's those that oppose it." Sanchez put down his cup and rose from his seat. "The spirits may not come for us, but I fear there is something that will." He nodded to the men and then left.

"Do you think Mr. Sanchez is being a little melodramatic?" Ezra pulled his cards from his pocket and began to shuffle them.

Larabee turned to watch Josiah cross the street and then he looked back to the others. "I don't know what has him spooked, but it doesn't matter. Just watch your backs." Chris picked up his hat and followed in the preacher's wake.

"I don't know about you all, but I'm really beginning to get a bad feeling." Buck put his fork down and cast a worried gaze around him. "A really bad feeling."

+ + + + + + +

Tanner didn't know when it happened or how it happened, but he did know it'd happened. He had the unholy pain shooting through his back to prove it. Somehow, someway, he'd been shot in the back. He'd never saw it coming. He'd never thought it possible, at least, not since he'd settled in Four Corners.

And that was your first mistake.

The voice was foreign to the tracker's ears, but their meaning wasn't. It was right, he'd made the ultimate mistake of trusting and now he was paying with his life.

Vin tried to get up, but suddenly a man appeared before him brandishing a knife.

Where the hell did he come from? Tanner looked around him quickly, but there was no where to go, no where to hide.

"I've waited a long time for this, my boy. It's time you got your due." The stranger advanced forward, causing the sharpshooter to start his journey backwards, but the bullet wound and loss of blood held him in place.

"Who are you?" Vin tried to keep his voice steady, but the man was inching closer.

"Your worse nightmare." The man laughed softly and then plunged the knife into Tanner's chest, twisting it back and forth quickly. The tracker was writhing on the ground, his mouth opened wide but emitting no sound.

Vin was trying to scream, to yell, or just to moan, but the pain was more intense then he could ever imagine. And that idea changed suddenly, when the knife was ripped from his body and then plunged into his abdomen. Instead of a back and forth motion, it began a circular pattern. Carving away pieces of flesh as if it were a piece of wood ready for carving.

As the motion increased, so did Tanner's need to die. Instead of trying to cry out for help, he began a death chant. Willing the Great Spirit to take him.

"Vin?"

Another voice, but whose?

"Mr. Tanner?"

The tracker jerked upward, pushing at the form standing over him.

"Whoa, take it easy there, son." Mr. Samson held onto the sharpshooter's upper arms, keeping him from doing him harm.

Vin blinked rapidly, letting his breathing get to normal once more. "Mr. Samson?" Tanner looked up to the man that was keeping him propped against the oak tree.

"Yes. Are you alright?" The farmer finally let his hands drop when he saw the blue eyes become clear.

"Yeah. I guess I dozed off." The tracker picked his hat off the ground where it had landed and stood up. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem. You had me kinda worried for a minute there. You looked like you were hurting." Samson stared into the other man's eyes looking for any signs of pain.

"I must've shifted while I was sleeping and a branch poked me or something." Vin smiled slightly. "I'd best be heading back." Tanner shook the offered hand and quickly mounted. The sooner he left, the farther away he could get from that tree and hopefully, the dream.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan didn't know what made him end up at the James ranch, but here he was. He looked around slowly, noticing no one was around. "Okay, Nate, you've been staying up too late again. The lack of sleep must be getting to you." Jackson snorted to himself as he turned his horse back towards town. But, before he could get all the way around, he felt it. The loop of a rope sliding down over his body.

He froze for a second, then he began struggling to get the hated thing away from him. But the more he fought, the tighter it got, until both his arms were pinned to his sides by the rope. Nathan strained his head to the side to try and see who had captured him, but emptiness was the only thing still around.

Just stay calm. Jackson took a couple of deep breaths and tried to relax. He knew panicking wasn't going to help. As he was just beginning to ease, he heard the voice.

"Well Mr. Jackson, so nice of you to join us on this beautiful day for hanging." It was definitely someone he recognized. Not from the past few years, but from his past life.

"Get this rope offa me. I ain't your slave no more." Nathan put as much strength as he could muster into his words.

"Now, Now, my dear boy, you should know, once a slave, always a slave. Maybe not to me, but to mankind itself." The man's voice began to laugh. It grew louder and louder, until Jackson couldn't hear anything but the laughter.

Please, stop. Please, make it stop.

"Nathan?"

He heard it, but was it real?

"Mr. Jackson, are you alright?"

Ezra. Nathan's eyes flew open and he was never so glad to see anyone as he was the southerner. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Ez."

A frown creased the gambler's features. "Well, thank you, but I was merely hoping to wake you so you could attend to my wound."

Jackson immediately came awake fully. "You been shot, Ezra?" The healer grabbed for his medical supplies that were on the table behind him.

"Ah, no. I'm afraid it is much more serious than that. I have a splinter in my index finger and it is hindering my shuffling." Standish stared disgusted at the wood piece sticking about a half inch out of his finger.

Nathan looked first at the man's face to see if he was conning him, then down at the limb aimed at him. The laughter started as a slight chuckle and grew from there.

"I do not see anything humorous about my pain, Mr. Jackson." The laughter only grew and that was when the argument truly began. "I am abhorred at your manners..........." the words mingled with the laughter, as they floated into the afternoon breeze.

+ + + + + + +

Buck found himself staring dejected at the young blonde leaving with another man. Oh well, there is always a red head. The gunslinger smiled and looked around the saloon in search of another companion for the evening. As his eyes leveled on a redhead near the bar, a scream broke through his concentration.

He glanced around to see if anyone else had heard it, but nobody had moved. He just shrugged his shoulders and headed toward his prey. As he got half way there, he heard the scream again, this time recognizing it as a woman's.

His survey of the crowd got the same results again, but Wilmington knew it had to be real. He looked up toward the rooms above the bar and noticed one door was slightly ajar. Giving the redhead a suffering sigh, he left on his quest for the non-existent yell.

You get up here and interrupt some cowboy's play and he's not gonna be mighty happy with you my friend. The pep talk did not sway his actions as he headed to the open door.

As he was about to reach for the handle, he heard the voice again, but not screaming, pleading.

"Please, don't. I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt my boy."

Buck pushed the door open further and felt his heart leap into his throat. A lady of the night was half dressed standing in the corner, holding something behind her back. Her face was bruised and bloody, but what got Buck's attention was the small hand that reached out from behind her.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Wilmington's temper had reached the boiling point and he charged at the cowboy who was standing in front of the woman. But as he grabbed him, his hands only connected with air. His momentum took him through the body and he landed on the floor at the woman's feet.

"You ain't gonna hurt my momma no more." The little boy's voice was muffled due to the lady's back.

"Bucklin, you just stay quiet for momma, okay."

"I didn't pay to bed no whore while her youngun watched. I want my money back." The bearded man stepped forward, this time with a knife in his hand.

"I swear I didn't know he was there, please, I'll give you your money, just leave us alone."

"It's too late for that now, honey. I want more."

Buck felt his heart quicken as the realization of what he was seeing hit him. His worse nightmare was coming true.

"Stop. Leave her alone." Wilmington jumped up and tried to grapple with man again. This time he managed to grab his hand. As the man turned toward him, the face began changing until it was JD he was looking at.

"Buck, what..." The gunslinger let go of the hand as if it was about to bite him and then felt himself falling.

The resounding thud mixed with Dunne's yelp of surprise. "Buck, you okay?"

Wilmington opened his eyes and looked around quickly until he locked gazes with JD. "Kid?"

"Yeah, it's me." JD reached down and helped the man to his feet. "Are you okay? I heard you yelling as I was walking by the jail."

Buck run a hand down his face, hoping to remove the memory of his dream. "Yeah, kid. I'll be alright. Guess those onions I had for lunch are coming back to haunt me." Wilmington tried to smile and reassure the youth, but the frown on JD's face told him, he failed.

"Something's wrong, Buck. Every since Josiah's talk at breakfast I've been feeling strange. Like somebody's watching me. And now you're having bad dreams in the daytime." Dunne started pacing back and forth in front of the window. "I just came from seeing Nate and passed Ezra on the way up. He told me he had to wake up Nate when he got there and it had looked like he was having a bad dream." JD turned from his pacing and stared at his best friend. "Do you think I'm just spooked because of Josiah?"

Buck wanted to tell his friend he was overreacting, that they had all just been working too hard lately, and hadn't gotten much sleep. But the more he thought about what JD had said and then about Josiah, then about what day it was, he knew what the answer was, "No, kid. I think something is trying to spook us and it ain't Josiah." Wilmington grabbed his hat, that had fallen to the floor and quickly exited the jailhouse. After he had thought more about what was said and then his dream, he knew there was another type of danger headed their way.

"Hey Buck, where ya going?" JD held the door open and yelled after his friend.

"To find Chris."

+ + + + + + +

The gambler was more infuriated then when he had sought out the healer's help. Not only did Nathan laugh at him uncontrollably, but he put the most unsightly bandage around Standish's finger. If his shuffling had been unencumbered before, it most definitely was now.

As Ezra started to deal his forth hand of solitaire, the batwing doors swooshed open, banging the walls behind them. Standish came to intruder a disproving scowl that quickly turned to concern.

"Mr. Wilmington, is there a problem?" The gambler immediately put his cards away and started to rise.

Buck gave the saloon a once over before acknowledging Standish. "Yeah, Ez. Have you seen Chris?"

Ezra stared at the gunslinger a moment before answering. "Yes. He muttered something about taking a ride and maybe meeting up with Vin." If the gambler's curiosity had been peaked before, it most assuredly was now. "I ask again, is there a problem?"

Wilmington didn't hide his concern when he answered. "Maybe. You been having any strange dreams or anything unusual been happening to you today?"

Ezra pondered the older man's and realized he indeed was having a problem of sorts. "Now that you mention it, I have been having trouble with the cards. I have yet to win a hand and my finger somehow developed a splinter." The gambler saw the flash of a grin on the other man's face. "Please, control yourself, Mr. Wilmington. I have already been debased by our town healer for my unfortunate accident." The last few words were said in a spat that only increased the smile on the gunslinger's face.

As Buck was about to comment on Ezra's unusual happenings, the batwing doors opened behind him. He turned to see the visitor and was overwhelmed with relief when he saw Larabee. "Chris, am I glad to see you." The gunslinger patted the leader on the back.

"Did you change your mind about your travel, Mr. Larabee?" Ezra was now standing along side the two men.

Chris gave the gambler an awkward glance. "What are you talking about, Ezra?" Larabee looked to Buck to see if he knew what the other man was referring too.

"We thought you were going to ride out and meet Vin." Wilmington felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been over at the church with Josiah since Vin left this morning." Chris saw the color drain from both men's faces. "What's wrong?"

"I think we should saddle our horses and ride out to meet Mr. Tanner poste haste." Standish pushed his way through the two as he exited the saloon.

"I'll get the kid and the others." Buck sidestepped the leader and headed in the opposite direction as Ezra.

Chris stood for a minute staring at the retreating backs. He had no idea what was going on, but if it involved Vin, he would get his questions answered later, right now, they needed to ride. He stepped off the porch and quickly followed the gambler's tracks.

+ + + + + + +

Sanchez stood staring at the podium in front of him. He had no idea what was bothering him, but he knew that it effected all of the seven. The preacher sighed and turned to look out the window. Why do you make it so hard for me, God? I'm only trying to keep our souls safe, but it's getting harder every day. I'm afraid Satan may be catching up.

Josiah knew his words from breakfast must have sounded as a dooms day premonition the moment he saw Chris step through the church house doors. Something about his stance told him Larabee needed to relieve himself from a burden. The preacher, in that instant, didn't know if he wanted that responsibility, but once the gunslinger had started talking, he realized there was no one else the man would have told.

As the story of the dream grew, so did Sanchez's belief that the day held nothing but evil for all of them. If Chris' demons had decided to take another direction in their haunting, Josiah figured so could the rest of theirs'. When the tale had finished, Josiah had no idea what to say to comfort the man. He was obviously in a great deal of pain over the dream, but the only words the preacher could offer as a comfort was, we won't let that happen, Chris, trust us.

Now, Josiah hoped they could keep the promise he made. As Sanchez turned to renew his carpentry efforts, the doors to the church opened once more. This time another face of suffering appeared, the worried face of Buck.

"Come on, Josiah. We gotta ride." Wilmington didn't pause long enough to let the other man ask why, he simply turned and vanished.

"Dear God, if this be the time for those souls to come back, I beg you to give us the strength to survive." When he had finished his prayer, he grabbed his gun, coat, and hat, and headed into the battle he was sure to follow.

+ + + + + + +

Vin had never been in such a hurry to reach one destination in his life. He had set his horse at a gallop the moment he got out of sight of the Samson place. Something about that dream had his nerves on fire. He had been living with the dread of someday getting shot in the back by a bounty hunter, but this was more violent. This nightmare had seemed more personal. As if the man in the dream killing him, knew him.

Tanner shook those thoughts aside. He didn't have time to think about that now. He was out here alone and the best time to catch a prey is when their guard was down. And that dream was having that affect.

The tracker wanted to hurry his mount more, but knew it would be too dangerous for the animal, so he settled for keeping his eyes straight ahead on his goal, Four Corners. As he topped the last ridge, the town buildings came into sight. He let out a huge sigh of relief and let his horse take it's head.

He was just passing a grove of trees, when he noticed a movement inside them. He pulled his horse to a stop, his instincts immediately kicking. Somehow he knew he was dealing with a two legged animal.

"Whoever you are, you best show yourself." Vin slowly pulled his mare's leg from his holster and loosely aimed it toward the trees.

"Easy, Vin, it's Chris." Larabee stepped from behind a tree and smiled slightly at his friend. "A little jumpy are we?"

The tracker rolled his eyes and reholstered his weapon. "You trying to get to an early grave, cowboy?" Vin slid from his saddle and came to stand beside his horse. "What are you doing out here anyway? Buck and JD drive you out?" Tanner grinned, knowing how the two men could drive a saint to cuss.

"Nope, just needed some fresh air. Remembered you'd be heading back this way and thought I'd ride back in with you." Chris stepped a little closer to the sharpshooter. "You mind?"

Vin studied his friend for minute, there was something not right about the man. "Nah, I don't mind. Could use the company. Where's your horse?" Tanner took a reflex step back.

Chris noticed the sudden movement and drew his pistol. "That's far enough, Vin." An evil gleam entered the gunslinger's eyes.

Tanner knew then he wasn't dealing with the real Chris Larabee. "Who are you and what have you done with Chris?" Vin's anger was slowly building.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Larabee is perfectly fine. I'm just borrowing his persona for the moment. It's you I really want." The Larabee impersonator cocked the hammer on the gun and aimed it dead center of Vin's heart.

The tracker swallowed hard, hoping an escape plan would pop into his head any minute. "I asked, who are you?" Distraction, yeah, that would help for a few seconds.

"An old friend. Someone who didn't deserve to die and now I'm back to reclaim my place among the living." The man snickered. "A wonderful thing, All Hallows' Eve, it gives us poor souls a chance to take back what is ours."

Before Vin could say anymore, a gunshot sounded, followed by another and then he felt a searing pain in his chest. He fell backwards and impacted with the ground. As the blackness danced around him, he heard voices. I guess the Devil finally got my timecard. Tanner couldn't help but smile at his own humor.

"What the hell you smiling at, ya damn fool? You were almost killed and you're laying there smiling." Nathan lifted the bloody shirt and sighed with relief. The gun must've kicked up when the imposter was shot and that saved Vin's life. The bullet entered in the tracker's left shoulder, just above his collarbone and then exited out the back.

"Nate?" Tanner tried to lift his heavy eyelids to see if he had been dreaming again, but they wouldn't cooperate.

"Yeah, it's me, now lay still so I can patch up your sorry hide." Jackson smiled, knowing his words lack the anger.

"Chris?" Vin jerked himself up and immediately regretted it.

"Damn, fool, stubborn jackasses, every blasted one of ya." Nate finished his tirade with a glare to the black-clad man now kneeling beside the sharpshooter.

"I'm here, Vin." Larabee felt relief when his best friend's eyes opened to meet his. "You're late." Chris smiled at the glare the man shot towards him.

"Sorry, I had a run in with this ugly, son of a bitch." Vin snorted and laid his head back.

"Well, it's like I always said, not even the Devil could be worse then Chris Larabee." Buck couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling up, as he caught the deadly glare from Chris or the mischievous smirk on Vin's face. The man was in horrendous pain, but still couldn't stop his happiness of being alive and with his friends.

The rest of the seven soon joined in the laughter, knowing that once again they had beaten the odds and survived evil's plot for revenge.

END