He could still remember the smell of burning flesh and the heat of the fire on his face. It hadn't been his fault. If Sarah hadn't let something happen to Adam - his son, damnit! - then he wouldn't have lost control that way. He'd only realised he'd gone too far when the screaming stopped, his knuckles raw and split, covered with a mix of his own and his wife's blood. In the end there was nothing he could do except torch the place. It was easy for Buck to be sympathetic, after all who wanted to think his best friend was some kind of maniac? He'd accepted the explanation that Chris had given, painting someone else with his own obsessive madness, and never asked more. It was a good excuse, made him look if not innocent, then at least much less guilty and a darn sight more like someone who would be the object of a mix of pity and fear. He liked the fear best, of course, but it didn't help to let that show. Sometimes, when the craving got too much, the bottle called his name and he jumped right in - things a sober man couldn't do, a drunk would be forgiven. At first he'd worried about the others, how they might not follow Buck's lead, might not let him be top dog the way Chris needed to be more than he needed to breathe. It hadn't been hard to convince them, in the end, much easier than he'd hoped or feared it would be. Buck's little lapdog was happy to go along with whatever he wanted, Josiah was easy enough to manipulate into a bottle of his own, while Nathan was just happy not to be hanging from the nearest tree and would do whatever it took to keep things the way they were. As for Vin and Ezra - one misplaced word from Chris to the right lawman could have Vin joining Nathan, if he was lucky, while Ezra was just greedy enough for whatever he could get for Chris to play him however he liked. Those men on his side, doing his bidding, and the town was his. And if that ever changed, he could always make it burn.

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