JD moaned, his face pressed hard into the soft blankets beneath him. His ass hurt, sore and wet, he flinched as a hand rubbed over his buttocks, and an unfamiliar voice laughed.

He shuddered, memory returning even as his attacker did.

A blunt thickness, too cool to be a cock pressed into his hole, and he gasped, aching so deep inside he was sure that something was terribly wrong. He shuddered again struggling to get away, only to freeze as her heard the familiar sound of a rifle being cocked.

"The thing is, sheriff," a harsh voice said quietly, "I can't rightly remember if I loaded this here weapon or not." The pressure in his anus shifted, and he realised with horror what had been forced into him.

"Shall we find out?"

JD screamed as the trigger fell, jerking away from the rifle rammed up him, but the hammer fell with a fruitless click.

"Guess I didn't load that barrel, then, sheriff." The man sniggered, then sniffed. "Damn, the kid pissed himself."

"Get off of me, you fucking bastard!" JD used the worst language he knew, culled from dockers and louts back East.

"Nah," the rifle pushed in and slid out a little way, only to fill him again. "Mind you, you've already pissed on my blankets. Guess I don't want you crapping up my gun barrel." The flesh-warmed metal pulled out of him, tearing as it pulled through his hole. The relief was temporary, as brusque hands lifted and spread his backside, and something thicker, softer and hotter stretched him open and plugged up his ass.

"Nice..." he moaned, moving with slow deliberation into and out of JD's ass, "Didn't think I'd get it up again, but you have one *tasty* piece of ass going here. They were telling me you were used to it, got done regular by them 'gunfighters." He slapped JD's butt as he slurred innuendo into the word.

JD tugged desperately at the rope tying his hands, ignoring the agony of his wrist, broken when the man ambushed him, throwing him from his horse.

"--thought you were gonna be looser, not that I'm complaining, nice tight hole you've got, feels real good on my dick; maybe they ain't fucking you like the townsfolk wuz sayin'. Or maybe they're all such pencil dicks you've been waiting for a real man--" he rammed home with considerable force, and JD's head slammed into the wall, dizzying him for a long moment, his words fuzzing into white noise. He was still talking, still moving behind him as JD's head cleared again. "--loosen you up nice, teach you what a real man is. And trust me, boy," the cock snapped forward again, and sweaty hips ground hard against JD's ass, "*you're* not one." He grunted gutturally, and JD felt the spasming of the man's dick as he came. He bit back tears, forced them down and away until he felt like ice, his skin clammy and cold, his heart and mind empty, waiting for his chance.

It came moments later. His attacker pulled out of him, leaving the wet mess of the three rapes and blood seeping out of his hole. He didn't move, didn't even flinch at a heavy hand in the small of JD's back as the rapist put his full weight on it pushing himself to his feet. He turned his head slightly, and in the one instant he saw the bloody rifle leaning against the wall, pulled his knees under him, grabbed and swung it hard at the man's knees, dropping him in his tracks. A second blow slammed into the man's head, leaving an oddly shaped indentation in the temple. He struck again, eyes cold. And again.

And again.

-----------------

Buck's stomach growled, but he ignored the quizzical look Chris threw at him. He leaned against the hitching post outside the jail, hat tipped forwards hiding his half closed eyes, slouching comfortably against the warm wood. Larabee swept the street with a comprehensive look, checking the road both ways and kept silent. JD wasn't due back yet. There was no reason for him to feel so on edge, except that for all the apparently casual pose, Buck's whole demeanour screamed lethal tension, oblivious to anything except the north end of town, where JD should appear in a couple of hours.

Chris found himself sitting forward, every sense on alert, gun in hand before he even registered the sudden bunching of muscles in Buck's back. "What is it?" He asked tensely.

Buck's eyes narrowed, and he breathed deeply. "JD."

"He's early. If he cut short--"

Buck lifted a hand minutely and the pack leader watched the road narrowly, accepting Buck's demand for silence.

JD emerged out of the morning haze and even Chris' only human eyes could see something was seriously off. JD was riding with about as much grace and ease as a tailor's dummy. His posture was stiffly erect, no sign of the fluid harmony between rider and horse that was so much part of the boy that its lack made him wonder momentarily if it was some other man riding a bay horse, wearing a bowler hat.

"Is that--?"

Buck watched as the rider came closer. Abruptly his nostrils flared and he pushed away from the post, his eyes flaring into absolute rage. Larabee gripped his shoulder hard, getting to his feet in the blink of an eye. Buck made no effort to move, and Larabee cut his eyes back to his lover.

"What?"

"Sweet Christ," Buck breathed, "Not JD..."

"What happened, what is it?" Larabee hissed urgently.

JD pulled up, Dancer jittering in place as though she felt the tension and longed to run from it. "Nothing out there. I'm going to my room." His words were clipped as though it was by main force that only they and no more broke through. Cold rage to match Buck's wildfire fury deadened his eyes, and Larabee gritted his jaw taking in the bruises on JD's face; the swollen mouth, reddened cheekbone and jaw clearly imprinted with someone's fist.

"What happened, kid?" he asked softly.

JD turned Dancer as though he hadn't heard.

"JD," Chris said inexorably, and though JD's back tensed, Dancer kept on walking towards the livery.

"Who the hell does he think he is," Larabee snapped, taking the first step towards heading towards the livery after him.

"No." Buck put a hand on his arm. "God. No, Chris." Their eyes met for the first time, and Chris felt the weight of Buck's grief and rage and hate hit him with a nauseating jolt.

He looked at JD as he disappeared into the livery. "Buck?"

"I can smell it on him."

"Smell what," he whispered, but he already knew.

"A man. Gun oil. Pain. Fear. Death."

He'd known. Rage boiled up. "Get Vin." They'd find him, backtrack the kid until they found the bastard, and then -- a wolfish smile pulled at Larabee's lips. No one messed with the pack.

"I'll do it." Buck said hoarsely. "It'll be quicker." Larabee met his eyes and knew it wasn't just the tracking that would be quicker; that Buck would without a second thought, or even a first, rip out the throat of whoever had done this to JD.

"Vin. And tell him to take Josiah." Chris held Buck's eyes. "He's going to need you."

Buck swallowed and his eyes clouded with misery, the rage banked briefly. "He won't, Chris," he said with quiet pain. "He won't need any of us. He won't *want* any of us." Unspoken Chris heard 'He'll never let me touch him again...'.

"Listen dammit," he hissed fiercely. "You get Vin, and Josiah, and you send them after whoever hurt our boy, and you go after *him*, until he remembers that we're seven, and a pack, and I'm not letting him go."

Buck's lips quirked at Chris' possessive ferocity. "Could be better done with two than one."

"Go." Chris caught Vin's eyes as he approached unasked from his wagon. "I'll explain."

Buck flicked a glance around him, and snorted quietly. The pack was gathering, Nathan wavering near his clinic, clearly not sure where to go, pulled towards JD, unseen in the livery; Josiah stalking down from the church; Ezra emerging blinking into the sunlight, all of them pulled by some indefinable tug towards the jailhouse, and Vin already staring at Larabee, eyes calculating the expressions on their faces, guessing the extent of the trouble and already swinging his gun up out of its rig.

Buck nodded, and drifted away towards the livery after JD. Nathan caught his eye and followed, medical kit in hand, his lips thinning as he figured out who they were worried about.

----------------------------

"Wait, Nate," Buck raised a hand putting it squarely on Nathan's chest when he would have rushed in to help. "You're going to have to be real careful."

"I'm always careful, Buck" Nathan sounded almost offended, and tried to take a step into the livery.

"No." He gripped Nathan's upper arm. "JD's... he was. I think he was. I smelled--" He halted as JD emerged unexpectedly, his face battered and frighteningly tranquil.

"I was raped," JD said softly, glancing between the two men before ducking around them.

Nathan closed his eyes, drew a deep breath. He watched the boy limp awkwardly away and frowned. He hurried after him, making no effort to stop him or ask questions until the boy was in his room. He pulled the door to behind him and Buck and hesitated, wondering if Buck wanted to start as JD leaned his back against the wall, staring out of the window, the whole room under his defensively wary eyes. But Buck said nothing, and Nathan needed to find out how bad it was. Bad, he thought. Very bad.

"JD--" he started, wondering how to broach it, sure that no one would ever admit twice to such a thing happening to him. "There's no shame in--" He underestimated the trust JD was willing to give his packmates.

"I'm bleeding, Nate," he said quietly, never moving his eyes from the street. "It was all over the saddle." His voice seemed to float on the air, utterly detached and emotionless. "Probably ruined the leather."

They'd seen it as they followed him, the dark stains on his pants bitter confirmation of everything they had hoped to be untrue. They locked the door, and Nathan moved towards the window. JD shifted away from him as he pulled the curtains to, his back tight against the wall, holding himself rigidly still through some huge effort of will. Buck could smell the fear coming off him, mingled with the sick pain and fear of the attack it turned his stomach, and he was abruptly grateful he hadn't eaten that morning.

"Willya let me help?" Nathan said carefully, eyes watchful, his hands open and his voice kind.

JD shrugged, the faintest motion of one shoulder. "Guess you better," he said tiredly, no fight left in him.

They exchanged glances, and Buck took a hesitant step closer, "Kid, do you want me to --"

JD's mouth trembled between a smile and tears, and he shivered convulsively. "Don't go, Buck. Please, don't go." The first glimmer of emotion and Buck almost wished for the passive neutrality to return at the sight of the pain roiling in the hazel eyes.

He took another couple of steps, standing close enough to feel JD's breathing, still not touching him. "JD?" His hands lifted convulsively, trying to offer an embrace, but uncertain of his reception. Very slowly, and carefully, as though he was afraid that moving too fast might shatter him JD leaned in, until his head rested on Buck's shoulder, his chest pressed close against Buck's torso. Buck's arms wrapped gently around him pulling him in close, safe. He buried his face in JD's hair, nuzzling kisses and licks into the soft darkness, one hand petting his back in long strokes, careful to stay well above the waist. JD shuddered and clung tightly to Buck, arms locked around his waist.

JD's eyes closed, and there was no movement in the room save the steady brush of Buck's hands, and the slow shudders rippling through JD.

"Sweetling," Buck whispered long minutes later, still stroking and petting. "JD, can Nathan touch you?"

JD nodded into Buck's shoulder but made no other effort to move.

"JD, I'm going to take off your gun belt. This is me, my hands, okay?" Nathan gently rested his hands on JD's waist, just above his belt, waiting for the boy to nod before swiftly undoing the buckle and easing guns and belt alike off with a firm impersonal touch. "There, done. I'm going to get your pants now." Both men felt the tension in JD's body, and Nathan caught the odd word as Buck murmured into his ear, his hands moving in comforting patterns on his back. "Hey, I forgot," Nathan's tone invited them to laugh at him, "we need to get your boots first, right?" Buck closed his eyes as the desperate burrowing into his shirt eased up a little, ignoring the liquid that squeezed out and dropped silently into JD's hair.

His boots were unlaced and removed, he lifted his feet obediently at a tug on his ankles, and Nathan paused, crouched at JD's feet, his eyes narrowly resting on the boy's ass.

"We've got to get those pants offa you, kid," he said firmly, as though it were no more than a leg injury that he had to look at. JD shifted minutely away from Buck and his hands slipped between their bodies unbuttoning then pushing them down a little. "Good kid," Nathan praised him, and tugged gently at the pants legs, pulling them down and inviting JD to step out of them one by one. "Good boy."

JD jerked away from him, burying himself against Buck as though he could slide inside the Two-Blood's skin, shivering helplessly. Nathan's eyes met Buck's, and they saw a promise in each others eyes to not use that phrase again, to take care of him, to hate and maim and murder whoever had done this to him. They broke their gaze, and Buck's hands never ceased moving.

"Can we get him on the bed?" Nathan asked.

"JD?" Buck asked in turn, and they waited. Some faint easing in JD's body cued Buck and he took a step away from the window, bringing the boy with him, then another, and another until his calves hit the edge of the bed. "JD, you want to lie down?" He slid his hands up to the kid's shoulders, pulling the jacket off of them and down his arms, leaving just his shirt in place. JD moved as though towards the bed and stopped. He mumbled something and Buck smiled. "No, I ain't letting go. But you got to lie down first or I'll end up falling on top of you or something, and Nate'd beat the crap outta me." There was a faint chuckle and JD twisted his head up to peer up at him.

"Okay." He let them turn him onto his side on the bed, his back towards the window. Buck moved round the bed and sank down next to him, his back towards the door, holding him close.

"JD, I'm sorry, but this ain't going to be pleasant. I've got to see what he did, put some stuff inside ya to make sure it don't get infected. I did it for Buck, that time. It's only the stuff we used to help when your ass is sore, it's only me, okay. Buck's here, and I'm here, and we're gonna take care of ya." He lifted the shirt tails away from JD's backside and gritted his teeth at the bruising already marring the fair skin. "Buck, you want to tilt him so he's flatter, more lying on you? It'll make this easier on him."

Buck shifted, pulling JD into place.

Nothing was going to make it easier on JD. The boy wept silently into Buck's shoulder as Nathan's fingers probed, cleaned, anointed and withdrew and the two men pretended not to notice, Buck still murmuring soft endearments and comfort into an unhearing ear. JD only truly heard the tone, felt the warmth and the gentle affection in every touch, and slowly his tension slackened into exhausted, pained sleep.

"Is he hurt anywhere else?" Buck breathed as Nathan retreated to rinse his hands in the already bloodied bowl of water.

"I think his wrist is broke. Might be a sprain." He wiped his hands on his pants, leaving dark smears behind before settling on the edge of the bed and gently stroking his finger tips along JD's lower arm. The kid moaned, and Nathan frowned, stroking again along the soft skin. "No. It's broken. I'll set it and splint it when we've got some laudanum into him. It'll help with the memories too."

A hand on his arm stopped him before he could reach into his bag. "Not too much. He mustn't get used to forgetting that way," Buck warned.

"It'll help."

"Not enough. I want him to live through this, not end up in an opium den, or at the bottom of a bottle," his face was set and his eyes icy. "I'll help him." He turned his eyes down to the sleeping boy on his chest, "I know how to help him."

"You might not be able to," Nathan said softly, petting JD's flanks gently. "Some people don't."

They hadn't ever told JD about Buck's time with Warwick. No one had wanted to hurt him that badly, destroy some of that boyish innocence and joy in life. And now, life had destroyed it anyway. Cold ran down Buck's back. "Maybe if I take him out to Chris's place. Away from people's eyes." He gathered him closer. "Somewhere where we can be a proper pack, and make it right for him."

"Sex ain't going to cure him," he replied, warning in his voice.

"You think I don't know that!" Buck snapped. His voice softened immediately, "Sorry, shhhhh, go back to sleep," JD stirred and then fell quiet again. "Not sex," he looked at Nathan as though he was a fool to even think it. "Love."

Nathan smiled sadly. "Well, we've enough love between us all. Maybe--"

Buck stared steadily down at his sleeping friend. "No maybe about it."

--------------------------------------

Josiah Sanchez slammed the door to the small hut open, one hand out as it bounced off the wall and threatened to ricochet into his face. "Where are you!" He roared.

Tanner's gun was at the ready, his eyes flickering for any sign of movement. The only thing in the hut though was a crumpled pile of half naked body, partially covered by a fallen chair. They exchanged a glance, and Tanner aimed at the person on the floor from a bare yard away; while Sanchez rolled it over with one firmly placed foot.

"Jesus Christ!" Tanner swore. Whoever it had been was very, very dead.

"I think our little brother avenged his own honor," Sanchez said with grim satisfaction. The face had been smashed in, so beaten that it was barely recognisable as human. And the naked genitals had been ripped off, not cut, the tearing was too ragged, and stuffed into the man's own asshole.

"Remind me never to get on the kid's bad side," Vin said with a weak attempt at a grin.

"Justice is served," Josiah said with chill precision. He glanced around the room, saw nothing worth the keeping and gestured at the door. "I think we should see to our youngest, brother Vin."

Vin nodded and holstered the sawn off shotgun against his thigh. He looked thoughtfully at the small shack, and nodded once, decisively. He gathered a handful of punk from outside, returned to the single room, and struck flint on steel until he got a spark to catch hold in it. He laid the burning material at the edge of the nearest wall, and gently fed it with twigs until the floor and wall started to burn, then backed away. He shut the door gently and they mounted their horses in silence, and rode away.

Part two

M7 Slash page

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fandoms listed herein. I am certainly making no money off of these creative fan tributes to a wonderful, fun show.