Sequel to Brotherhood of Saints...

"Hello, pet. Did you miss me? No? What a shame because I missed you. And this time, we're going to have so much more fun!"

AN: Yes, I'm back with my new baby. So have fun and prepare for the angst. This story has been personally approved by Sean Patrick Flanery (Connor MacManus).

Disclaimer: I own nothing but original characters.

Warning: This chapter is rated T for Teen. Will be M for Mature in later chapters.

Demons of Saints

Fights and Flames

By Candra Hastings

It had been eight years since the day that Murphy's heart had stopped beating. And though he'd been brought back and so much had happened to both MacManus brother over that span of time, he sometimes couldn't help but remember those three days of hell that he'd experienced.

Though his wounds had healed and his scars had faded, there were days that something would remind him of those three days that he'd been separated from his twin. The three days that'd he'd been tortured mercilessly. The three days that had almost cost him his life.

Maybe it would be the click of a lighter when he wasn't prepared for it. Sometimes, he'd rub at the sore muscles in his neck and would feel the round scars from the cigarette burns there. Other days, he'd be by his brother's side, sweeping the floors of the Hoag prison, and he'd bend down to pick some trash from the floor. His sleeve would sometimes ride up a little and expose the pale white rings that encircled his wrists. Or maybe he'd just notice that the little finger on his left hand hadn't quite healed right and was slightly crooked, the same as one of his ribs.

He knew Connor noticed. Connor always noticed. He'd seen him in the mornings when they'd wake up in their cell for the day watching his younger twin as Murphy quickly yanked a shirt over his head, hiding the slightly protruding rib and the scar from the healed stab wound from his brother's watchful eyes. Though he was grateful that he and Connor shared a cell instead of being separated, he hated the sad, almost guilty look that would haunt the light in his twin's blue eyes.

They never spoke about it. They'd already hashed out all their emotions about it a long time ago when they'd returned to Ireland to live in peace with their father. Their Da had noticed the stiffness that his darker son had moved with for those first few months of recovery. Though they hadn't ever told him what had happened in great detail, he knew enough to understand that Murphy had survived something that would effect him forever.

But they wouldn't be ever able to tell him the whole story because he'd been dead for about a month now. Connor could still remember that horrible day in great detail. The bullets had flown and none of them them had been spared. He'd watched as his father fell to the ground, blood pouring from his body. He'd seen the ever-selfless Murphy run to his aid, not hesitating to throw his own body over his father's, earning himself a few bullets.

Connor had known that going in there was a deadly mission. He knew that they were all at risk and that it was a possibility that they would all die. Still, seeing his father bleeding out, Connor knew that though the old man's death would hurt him, that he would survive the loss.

However, seeing Murphy's blood being spilt had effected him in a way that he hadn't felt for eight years. So much of his brother's blood covered the floor. Suddenly, Connor was eight years younger and was begging with God to take his life in exchange for Murphy's as the EMT's had fought to save his twin's life. That same feeling of helplessness consumed him.

Connor knew that he couldn't survive losing Murphy. So, ignoring his own wounds, he shot every man in the room dead and went to his brother's aid. Murphy was strong, though. He'd helped Connor carry their dying father to the other room in order for them to complete their mission as Louie's body went still when Noah MacManus pulled the trigger. And then he'd passed, in what had seemed an almost peaceful moment.

Then the police had shown up. They'd given themselves up without a fight. They still had each other to live for, and they were in no condition to fight back. Connor knew though, that had Murphy died with their father, that he wouldn't have hesitated in taking down as many of them as he could've before they'd have put an end to him. Just to join Murphy.

They'd come to the Hoag only a month ago. Though their sentence was still being determined, they knew that they wouldn't be leaving this prison any time soon. So after they'd healed up enough to be released from the medical care cell block into the actual prison, they'd silently promised each other to always be together.

They were the Saints. Killers of killers, deliverers of evil unto God. And they were surrounded by evil, evil that all wanted them dead. Alone, they'd be picked off easily, but together, they were left untouched for the most part. Their name had struck fear into the hearts of the other inmates and had kept them at bay for the time being. How long would their reputation protect them? Not forever.

The twins had both been put on cleanup duty after lunch. Because many of the guards were on their side, they found that they were always assigned the same tasks so that they were constantly together. They thanked God in heaven for that blessing because they knew as soon as they were separated from each other for more than a moment that the protection of the Saint name would be gone in the blink of an eye.

Murphy'd swept the floor relatively clean and Connor had bundled all the trash bags together. The floor still need to be mopped, but the dump truck would be there for pickup in a few minutes. Murphy noticed the dilemma at the same time as Connor.

"Go on and run it out," Murphy told his twin. "I'll finish up here by the time yah get back."

Connor frowned. "Are yah sure?" he asked. He didn't like it. Though he would only be running out the door, he would be gone at least a few minutes. A lot could happen in a few minutes.

Murphy shrugged carelessly and let a smile find place on his lips. "Yeah, just hurry on up. I'll be fine without yah being a mother hen for a few seconds."

Minutes. It would be minutes, not seconds. Connor wanted to point it out, but he knew better. Murphy hated to be babied, but Connor just couldn't help it some days. He felt the responsibility, the protectiveness that came with the title of brother.

"Alright," Connor agreed while picking up the bags. "I'll be back soon."

It wasn't soon enough.

Connor had practically jogged out the door before dumping the trash and heading back into the mess hall. He couldn't have been gone more than two minutes. But those two minutes were long enough for something to happen.

When he walked back to the hall, he could hear the sounds of a struggle. Murphy was spitting curses at someone in several languages while Connor could hear someone else speak in english. "Hold him down!" a deep voice commanded.

Connor was flying into the room when he felt two pairs of arms weave through his, holding him in place. Connor tried to rip away from them, but they'd had the element of surprise. Instead, he could only watch as Murphy brawled with the two prisoners trying to grab onto him.

While both MacManus brothers were excellent fighters, Connor had always been a little stronger while Murphy had always been just a bit faster. The two attributes had balanced them out in fights against each other, but Connor was usually able to get the upper hand on anyone, while Murphy was just too fast to strike at.

However, there were two of them and one of Murphy. Still, Murphy was holding his own, lashing out with punches while dodging theirs. One prisoner tried to get a hold of Murphy's arm, but the Saint ripped away from him.

Connor felt a fist knot in his hair and one of the men holding onto him yanked his head back, threatening to tear his eyes away from watching Murphy. "Hey, Saint! Look what I've got," he called to the darker twin.

Murphy did just as they wanted and looked Connor's way, eyes wide with worry when they locked onto Connor's. "Con!" he yelled before the two he'd been scrapping with managed to get a hold of Murphy. He tried to shake them off, intending to free his brother, but a swift hit to the face stilled him.

"Murph!" Connor called for his brother, trying once again to break away. The result was a punch to a gut that had him gasping for air.

The twins locked eyes from across the room, both afraid for each other and not for themselves. They both knew they were in trouble, but they weren't going down without a fight. They both watched the prisoners holding them, trying to guess what would happen next.

"Which one should we start with?" one holding Connor asked. "This one's got some fight."

"Yeah, so does this one," one of Murphy's captors growled while glaring at the twin. "Broke my nose."

Both Connor and Murphy smirked for the darker twin's small feat.

The one with the bleeding nose noticed and growled at Murphy, yanking his head back by his hair. "You think that's funny? How funny will it be when I-" he paused, something catching his attention. "Well, look here," he said, nodding at Murphy, handing off the arm he secured to the other prisoner holding the twin. "Looks like someone already got ahold of you."

Murphy couldn't help but flinch when the prisoner reached out and traced a finger over the cigarette scars. Connor noticed his twin's anxiety and was livid. "Leave him the hell alone!" he spat, trying to get to his brother.

"Make me," the prisoner grinned before punching Murphy in the face, hard. Murphy recovered from the blow quickly and spat blood at his attacker.

The prisoner's eyes lit up with fury. "You'll pay for that. I may just have to have a smoke break for myself."

Murphy steeled himself, his eyes staying locked on Connor's wide, fearful ones while the inmate dug into his pocket, pulling out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He forced himself to not blink when the lighter clicked, igniting the drug.

Though Murphy didn't appear scared to the other prisoners, Connor could see in his eyes that he was terrified. A rush of strength flowed through him, much like the day he'd dropped the toilet on Ivan's head. As the inmate moved to burn his brother, Connor let out a furious roar and ripped away from the iron holds the men had on him, seeing only his brother and the color red.

Before Murphy could be burned, Connor was across the room and had taken the man to the floor. He straddled him and wailed on his face until his knuckles bled.

Murphy had managed to slip the grip of the single prisoner holding onto him. He in turn punched him in the face and was about to take defense against the men who'd Connor'd broken away from when the guards came in.

"Everyone put your hands in the air!" a guard in the front commanded. Murphy had to tap Connor's shoulder to get him to listen before following orders. His twin followed suit, dismounting the prisoner.

Each of them involved in the fight was cuffed and those who'd been injured, Murphy and the one who'd tried to burn him, were all sent to the infirmary. Connor was lead to a new cell, the guards following the rule that if you were fighting you were sent to solitary. However, many guards secretly liked the Saints. Though they couldn't allow the twins to share the same cell for the next day, they did put them across from each other so they would be close by.

Murphy was brought in an hour later, his faced bruised and a split lip still bleeding. He walked with a slight limp, but it was nothing compared to how the other inmate had to feel. Connor hadn't worked someone over like that for a long time.

"How yah feelin', Murph?" Connor asked his brother after the guards had removed his handcuffs and left the cell block.

"I'm fine, Con," his twin replied darkly. "Just fine."

"Yah don't sound fine," Connor shot back, wishing so badly that they were in the same cell together so he could pat his twin on the back or ruffle his hair. Anything to give him the affection he needed.

"Well, I am, so shut it," Murphy snapped. He sighed and laid out on his bunk, hand over his face so Connor couldn't see him wince, though his brother had noticed anyways. "How are you?"

Connor could feel a bruise or two forming, but he was fine. And he knew Murphy was a fast healer physically, but mentally was another issue entirely. Connor couldn't know his state of mind because unlike Murphy, he didn't bare the scars his brother did. He'd never suffered like Murphy had.

"I'm great," Connor told him.

Murphy searched his eyes before nodding to himself and sitting up. He pulled off his shirt and Connor couldn't help but train his eyes on the nasty scar that marred his brother's chest. He hated that raised white mark and wished with everything in him that he could erase it and all the other scars Murphy had received from his three days of hell.

Connor looked away before Murphy could catch him staring. He knew Murphy hated the feeling that his twin was babying him. Murphy was tough and he'd recovered so much over the past eight years. But still, sometimes, you could see in his eyes that he was just a bit damaged still.

Connor watched as Murphy lied down, trying to get the rest his sore body needed. Ever since they were kids, Murphy had never been big on sleeping. He was too energetic and loved to be active at all times, day and night. However, ever since Rocco had died all those years ago, Murphy had slept even less.

Connor never really had a problem sleeping. He knew that he would get no rest tonight, though. With Murphy locked in a cell across from him, he felt wrong, like part of him was missing. Until he could touch his twin again, to physically feel his presence, he would get no rest.

Still, Connor didn't want to worry his brother because if he did, he knew Murphy wouldn't get any sleep either. So he laid down as well and turned to face the stone wall, trying to keep images from his mind from all those years ago. Rocco being killed right before him... Murphy being stabbed and his heart giving out... He shivered and pulled his thin blankets over his head.

"Hey, Con? Yah still up?" Murphy asked quietly.

"Yeah, I'm up."

"Do yah think Romeo's okay? I mean, we're gonna be stuck in here all day tomorrow. Yah think he'll be alright on his own?"

Connor chewed on his lip as he thought. "Yeah, I think he'll be fine. Romeo is tough. He can take care of himself. Plus, it's only a day. We'll be back to keep an eye on him soon enough."

Murphy hummed a little, as if soothed by his brother's response. He didn't want to be responsible for another Rocco. Romeo had been so loyal to them, and Murphy considered him as family, like an odd cousin or something. An emotional cousin, but family all the same.

"Connor?" he asked again.

"What, Murph?" came the weary reply.

Murphy almost didn't say anything, but he felt he needed to say something to his brother. "I just wanted to say thanks. For, yah know, today. For not lettin' that wop... well, yah know."

Oh, Connor knew. No one touched his brother and walked away from it without a little hell from Connor. "Any time, Murph. There was no way I'm gonna let anyone hurt yah like that."

"Still, thanks, Con. It means a lot."

"Anytime, Murph. It's what brothers are for. Now shut up and go to sleep before yah pull a Romeo and start cryin' on me."

Murphy snickered. "Alright, Con. Is breá liom tú," he said in Gaelic so the other inmates wouldn't understand. I love you.

"Is breá liom tú, freisin, Murph," Connor replied instantly. I love you, too, Murph. Ever since he'd almost lost his brother, Connor had made an effort to tell his brother those words when the time called for it. Because though Murphy knew, he just needed to say it sometimes.

"Lights out!" a guard called from down the hall just as all the lights in the cell block went dark. Lights out meant that all conversation was supposed to end, but usually he was able to get away with holding late night conversations with his brother. But because Murphy was separated from him for the night, that wasn't an option. It bothered Connor to no end.

He felt very alone.

B~D~S

Just as he predicted, Connor didn't sleep a wink that night. It was late into the night when he could hear his brother's even breathing of sleep hitch and he knew that Murphy was having a nightmare. Perfect, just perfect. The one night he couldn't reach out and comfort him, Murphy had a nightmare.

And then Murphy started sleep talking and Connor about went insane with not being able to do anything but listen to his brother suffer from his fears of the past.

"Screw yah," Murphy hissed in his sleep. Connor sat up and looked over at the dark shape of Murphy in the opposite cell. He was confused. Murphy never sounded so angry in these types of nightmares. He was usually just whimpering in pain, saying things that never really made sense.

"Screw yah, sir," Murphy ground out. It was then that Connor understood than unlike dreaming up terrors of those three days that Murphy was actually reliving his experience. He didn't know know how he knew, but he just did. And Connor had front seat tickets to the pain his brother suffered.

"Screw... Yah," Murphy repeated again, slowly this time. Right after, he hissed a sharp intake of breath, as if something had hurt him.

"Murph," Connor called softly. He wanted this to end. He didn't want to hear this.

"Not... not gonna tell yah. Gotta... gotta keep Connor... keep Connor safe."

Okay, he'd had enough of this. Connor got up and pressed his face against the bars of his cell, getting as close to his ailing twin as he could. "Murphy, get up!" he snarled.

Instantly in response to his brother's tone, Murphy shot up in bed. Connor couldn't really see his face in the dark, but he could tell from the sniffles that Murphy was on the verge of tears. Something had shaken him up that much.

Murphy's head whipped around in the dark. He couldn't see a thing, and he believed that he was back in that warehouse, tape pressed over his eyes as the blade cut into him time after time as they asked where Connor was.

His whole body trembled as he tried to collect himself. Connor called out to him in the dark, snapping his mind back to the present. "Murph, you're fine. I'm right here, brother."

"Connor?" he asked. He had to make sure, because it was so dark... he just couldn't tell.

"I'm here and you're just fine, Murph."

Murphy relaxed then. He trusted Connor so much that if he said everything was okay, then it was. "S-Sorry. Did I wake yah up?"

Connor shook his head and Murphy could just barely see it. "Naw, I couldn't sleep. But what was all that, Murph? Sounded like yah were talking to someone."

"It's the dark," Murphy told him, totally honest. "Guess it just got to me. Dreamed I was... there again. They... covered my eyes and I couldn't see. Their boss was askin' about yah and I wouldn't tell 'em anythin'. When I woke up, it was dark and I just... I..."

"Yah thought you were there again, didn't yah?"

"Yeah, I did," Murphy admitted. He saw that his brother was pressed against the bars of his cell. Murphy got up and mimicked him, both of them sliding to ground, backs against the wall for support as they pressed against the bars that kept them apart. It was as close to comforting each other as they could for the night.

"Well, you're safe here with me. Those people are dead now. I made sure of that. All but her, that is, and Smecker told me she wasn't gettin' out of jail anytime soon."

"Just like us, eh, Con?"

Connor smirked a little. "We'll get outta here soon enough, Murph. And we'll take care of each other, just like always."

"Yah know, I haven't told yah since yah came and got me all those years ago, but I meant it. Yah really are the best brother I could ask for," Murphy told Connor.

"Thanks, you too," Connor replied lamely. He didn't really feel like a good brother. A good brother wouldn't have allowed his twin to be taken in the first place.

Murphy could feel his unease. "Even if yah do call me names while tryin' to do CPR on me," Murphy said in a teasing tone, trying to get him to relax.

Connor balked. "Yah heard that? I thought yah were dead!" Connor said indignantly.

Murphy grinned. "'Course I heard yah, yah idiot! Was really the only thing I could do at that point."

Connor snorted. "I should tear yah a new one for scarin' me like that!"

"Like it was my fault!" Murphy cried. "It was your rope that did it!"

"Oh, here we go again with the rope! Why do yah hate my rope so much, Murphy? Why?"

"Can you two shut the hell up?" some guy called from a cell down the way. "It's the middle of the night! You all can play Dr. Phil in the morning!"

"Screw you!" the twins said in unison, both grinning wryly at each other. It was that look that confirmed that no matter what happened, as long as they had each other, they would be just fine...