Chapter Nine Summary: Romeo and Connor find Anna and run her down. Connor finds Murphy in the trunk. Connor unties him and wakes him up. They're happy with each other until Anna, still alive, shoots at Connor. Murphy takes the bullet in the back to save him, leaving him to bleed out in Connor's arms...

AN: I want to say thank you for all the love and support these stories and myself have gotten from this fandom. Thank you all for the kind words and inspiration! Shout out to by best friends, VeritasVamp and BBC.

Tid Bit: Listen to Demons by Imagine Dragons while reading this.

Demons of Saints

Demons and Brothers

By Candra Hastings

She'd never meant to kill him. That had never been her intention. She'd been ready to get rid of the brother, the one that kept them apart. But her pet had moved in front of the bullet meant for him and had taken the shot instead.

She watched his bloody body fall into Connor's lap. The fairer twin had no words. Only a horrified expression consumed his features. He didn't even look at her. He didn't care that she still had a gun. He only had eyes for the body in his arms.

"This is your fault," Anna told him. "If you hadn't come, this wouldn't have ever happened. This is all on you."

And Connor looked up at her, eyes wide and blue with a sadness that she'd never seen before. But she'd felt it. It was the same look in her eyes when she'd seen the bodies of her family.

His eyes looked dead. Soulless. Like he had nothing left in him. Like he believed her.

And she wanted him to believe her because in all honesty, she blamed herself. And she didn't want to be responsible for her pet's death. Because to her, he didn't look like he was going to make it.

She raised the gun level with Connor's eyes which were trained on her. She expected him to beg. She expected him to ask to spare him. But he didn't, he just continued to look dead. He held no fear in his eyes. He simply looked down and pressed his forehead to his brother's.

He didn't flinch when she took him in her sights. He welcomed it. Here with his brother bleeding out in his arms, he had nothing to live for if Murphy didn't make it.

So he took his last few precious moments with his brother. He held Murphy's cold, wet, broken body while he waited for it all to end.

When the shot rang, he tightened his grip on Murphy. He wanted to be able to leave this world with the person that he'd entered with. But Connor felt no pain. He didn't feel the bullet rip into his flesh and burry itself his muscles. He didn't feel it because it hadn't been Anna who'd shot.

Connor pried his eyes away from his brother just long enough to look up and see Anna's bloody form falling to the ground. The light left her green eyes and finally, they were rid of her. Romeo stood behind her body, gun raised. His bullet had struck a path through her black heart, leaving her nothing but a dead demon.

"Connor? Murphy?" he called to them as he rushed to Connor's side.

"Romeo," Connor croaked out. "call for help! Now!"

"I already did, man! They're on the way."

"Murph, yah hear that?" Connor shook his brother, trying to keep pressure on the wound. He shook Murphy awake, those blue eyes flickering open, but remaining unfocused. They looked, but they didn't see. Murphy moved to say something, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was blood.

Blood. So much blood. It poured in rivets from his chest. It leaked a trail out of his mouth. It flowed like a river from the bullet wound. It pumped out through Connor's fingers, staining them as the blood ran and ran, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in his brother's body.

"Help is comin'," Connor tried to encourage him. "Just need yah to stay with me now. Stay with me," Connor yelled when Murphy's eyes closed again. "Please, Murphy! Just stay with me, Murph. I'm so... So sorry. Please stay... God, please don't take him! Please..."

And as Connor begged his brother to live and for God to save him, Connor couldn't help but feel... cracked.

B~D~S

Grief if a terrible thing. It consumes. It smothers. It kept those in the MacManus apartment from speaking much for the past few days since...

Connor sighed as he chugged on his second beer. He wanted more, wanted to get that buzz that took over and would soften the blow of the past few weeks. But he needed to stay sober. It would be wrong to be drunk today. Not appropriate.

Romeo came in. He'd been crying. Connor could see it in his red rimmed eyes. But Connor didn't have the heart to tease him. He was too... He just couldn't. Besides, that had always been Murphy's job.

"Hey, Connor. It's uh... It's time for the... the funeral."

Connor nodded and scratched an itch on his bare chest as he sat up from his place on the couch. He could feel a grim reminder of that day two weeks ago when he and Murphy had been taken captive. The raised scabs marked his skin from where Murphy's bound hands had clawed wildly at his chest while Connor had held his head under the water.

"You know, you don't have to go if you don't want to. I would understand," Romeo offered.

"No," Connor shook his head. "No, I'll go. I just need to get ready. Give me a bit."

Romeo stuffed his hands into his pockets. A moment later, he pulled them out, a piece of paper in his fingers. He looked at his, a sad light in his eyes. "You know, Murphy gave me this. He wanted... Wanted you to have it."

Icy fingers wrapped around his heart as he reached out and took the piece of paper. What on Earth could Murphy have written for him? It seemed Romeo knew because he backed away with a nod and left Connor to read his mysterious note alone.

With shaky hands, Connor opened the paper to find that it was a letter addressed to him and only him. When his eyes skimmed over the first line, he realized what this was, and why Murphy had written this.

It was his goodbye.

You know I'm awful with talking about feelings. But I'm doing my best here, so bare with me. I just wanted you to know how much you meant to me and that I loved you. You really were the best brother that I could've asked for, Connor. You always did you best for me. I'm really glad you were the big brother. I don't think I could've done anywhere near as good as you did. So know this, deartháir, no matter what happened to me, I want you to know that I love you, and I want you to do one last thing for me. Don't blame yourself. I know you will, but this is my choice, not yours. And live. Live for me, Connor. Take your time and live your life until the good Lord calls you home. I'll be waiting.

Connor clutched the paper in one hand while he wiped his tears away with the other. All that had happened and Murphy would leave him with that? Did his brother actually think that he could just move on, and not blame himself for what had happened? For what he'd done to his brother?

Connor went back to his bedroom to get ready for the funeral. Today was going to be hard enough and that letter hadn't helped at all. He tossed the paper to the bed as he pulled on his boots. "You're right. You are awful with feelings."

Blue eyes met Connor's as he struggled to sit up, bandages and stitches pulling at his abused skin. Murphy groaned more in annoyance than pain when he saw what Connor had tossed at him. "You weren't supposed to read that," he mumbled, sleep still clouding his voice.

"Yeah, not unless you died. Which you almost did," Connor shot back.

Murphy shrugged, his body protesting the movement. "Yeah, but then I wouldn't have to listen to yah complain about it."

Connor looked at his brother, really looked at him. Even though he'd just gotten out of the hospital two days ago after being in their care for two weeks, he still looked horrible. Bandages wrapped around his chest, offering padding to the cuts on his chest and the bullet hole in his back. He was still a bit pale and sometimes he still coughs when he couldn't breath well, still working up the water in his lungs. And Connor had barely left his side through it all.

But he didn't have nightmares anymore. No, it seemed that Anna's death had soothed that issue for Murphy. But Connor seemed to have taken his place. He'd wake in the night covered in sweat. All through the night, Murphy drowned in his arms and it was all his fault.

He'd even woken Murphy in the night a few times by accident. Connor would call out his name in his sleep, begging for forgiveness. Connor hated waking his injured brother while he was sleeping and healing. Murphy never acted like he minded, though. He'd just crawl into Connor's bed, curl up next to his twin and whispered that it was all okay.

But it really wasn't. Connor didn't know if it ever would be okay. Maybe Murphy had gotten over what Connor had done to him, but Connor wouldn't ever forgive himself. Connor sat down next to his twin.

Murphy looked at him funny, like he'd done something wrong. Connor didn't know what it was until he looked at where Murphy's eyes were fixed. It was then that it dawned on him that he'd never seen the marks, what with being in the hospital and sleeping half the time since he'd got home.

Murphy reached out, eyes wide, fingertips gently tracing the claw marks on his brother's chest. "Did I... Did I do that?" he asked.

"Yah didn't mean to. It wasn't your fault."

"I did that when..." When he'd been drowned. They didn't need to say the rest. "You know I don't blame yah, right, Con?"

"You should. I drowned yah, Murph. Tortured yah. It's my fault you're so roughed up."

"She was going to kill us," Murphy argued, his voice rising with frustration. "Yah-" he coughed up a fit and Connor instantly patted his back, trying to help his brother through the mess that he had caused.

"I'm alright," Murphy whispered after a few heavy breaths. "They said that should be stopping soon."

"It should've never happened in the first place," Connor objected.

"Well, it did and I'm fine, so stop whining about it! Please, Connor. Stop the pity thing. It's driving me nuts. We're both fine, so we should be thankful."

"Yeah, I hear yah, Macho Murph," Connor whispered half-heartedly

Murphy sighed. "What will it take? What can I do ta' get yah ta' stop this?" It was then Murphy saw the tears streaming down Connor face. His brother couldn't seem to look at him, and that bothered him. "Con, look at me!"

And he did. It was a desperate, pleading look. "I'm so sorry, Murphy. Please forgive me. I'm so, so sorry."

Murphy instinctively wrapped an arm around his brother. "I did before yah even did it, Connor. Really. We're both okay and she's dead. We'll just move on."

Connor nodded and pulled away from Murphy, afraid the contact would hurt him. "Are you sure yah wanna go ta' this funeral? I mean, we loved Doc, sure, but I don't think he'd want yah hurtin' yourself just to go see him."

Murphy nodded and managed to get to his feet. "Yeah, I'm goin'. Doc was good to us. Least I can do is get up an' go see 'em. 'Sides, I need ta' get outta this room or I'm gonna lose it."

As Connor and Murphy both pulled on black T-shirts, Connor decided to break the tense mood. "Yah know, I'm still pissed at yah for takin' that bullet."

"Be pissed," Murphy said simply. "I did what I wanted to, so get over it. Count it as payback if yah want for the whole drownin' thing."

Connor laughed. Though it still bothered him, having Murphy forgive him had made things more bearable. "Alright, I'll do that."

"Yah know, Smecker called," Murphy informed him. "This mornin'. I didn't tell him anything. He said he wanted to talk later so I figured we could tell 'em then if we wanted to."

"What did he want?"

"He said that he had a job for us."

"What kind of a job?" Connor pressed, already liking the sound of this.

Murphy grinned at his brother, feeling a weight that had been on him for ten years lift. Finally, they could go back to being easy with each other. They could get back to their mission. A mission that was calling.

"Con, how do yah feel about dirty cops?"

"I think lyin' is a sin," Connor grinned back.

"I happen to agree with yah there, my dear brother."

"We're going to need some more rope."

"You and your stupid rope."

And they laughed as Truth passed Justice a cigarette. They were ready for their mission. They would do it as Saints. As killers. But most importantly and always first, as brothers.