A/N: So... yeah. I went and did the thing I swore I'd never do. I... wrote an OC Boondock Saints story. Yeah. I did that. But here's the deal, guys. Whether you love it or hate it, and if you liked my other stuff, I doubt you'll hate it, this is... my last Boondock Saint story I'll be doing. I'm very sad about this but... I'm running out of ideas and I've... actually been offered recently to do some of my own original stuff. And... I think I'm going to try it. Anyways, this is my last shindig on here. I hope its worth a read.

Full Teaser: "I can't stop you. It's not my place. I can't argue with you, because I'm not God and maybe he really DID send you on a mission. And I can't tell you I disagree with what you're doing because if you believe so strongly in it, who am I to tell you you're wrong? But I can't lose you, either. I can't do it. So promise me this. Promise me you'll come home."

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Alana Dyer and any other OC's seen.

Prayers of the Faithless

People at Walmart

Candra Hastings

You really can meet the most interesting people at Walmart.

Alana pushed her cart down the long, almost barren aisle. A snow storm was supposed to be coming and people were stocking up. Her sharp grey eyes roamed the empty shelves. It looked like they'd been picked clean by the people who'd managed to get there before her. She sighed as she continued down the way, looking for anything that sounded edible.

She had the very last of the basics. Milk, squished bread, some dented cans of soup. She even was lucky enough to grab the last few boxes of T.V. dinners. Now, she just hoped that her lucky stars pulled through to spare her a can of cocoa powder. Because who get's snowed in with no cocoa?

Pushing her cart through the store, she came to where the cocoa would be. Someone in heaven must've been smiling down on her because there on the shelf was the very last can of cocoa mix.

Alana smirked at her good luck. Her fingers had just brushed the can when they bumped into a stranger's tattooed fingers. She retracted her hand, eyes moving from the word inked into the pointer finger, up the arm and to the icy blue eyes that stared back at her.

"M'sorry," the owner of the eyes said in a beautiful, rich Irish accent. "Go ahead."

Alana shook her head, long golden brown curls bouncing with the movement. "No, it's yours."

The young man smiled softly at her. "Really, I insist yah take it. I'd just as soon go an' see if they have any Guinness left."

Oh, yeah. Irish alright.

Before Alana could respond, someone came from around the corner. He was tan with spiked blond hair and he was also obviously Irish. "C'mon, Murph! How long does it take ta' get your stupid cocoa?" the blond grumbled to the first man.

Murph, the one with darker, shaggier hair shot the blond a dirty look. "I was busy makin' a new friend while yah had your big nose in the movie section!"

Alana had to suppress a grin at the boyish attitudes the young men held for each other. The blond man spotted her and came to the other's side. "Well, Murphy, don't be an ijit! Introduce me," he said, patting the other man affectionately on the back.

"I would if I knew her name!" Murphy snapped back playfully at the blond.

Alana barely could hold back a giggle at seeing these two good looking Irishmen act like children. "My name's Alana," she interrupted them, offering her hand first to Murphy and then to the blond. Both had warm tattooed hands, latin on their trigger fingers.

"Connor. Nice ta' meet yah," the blond grinned. "Sorry if my twin here was givin' yah a hard time."

Alana stifled a laugh from the half-hearted glare that Murphy had trained on Connor. She came to the darker brother's defense. "No, not at all! He's been a perfect gentlemen."

Connor smacked his brother on the back. "Well that's a first, innit?"

"Oh, just shut your hole, Connor. She doesn't wanna hear yah tellin' stories," Murphy shot back.

"Did you say twin? You guys are twins?" Alana asked curiously. It sure would explain the familiarity the two shared.

"Yes, ma'am, we are," Murphy responded to her before Connor could get a word in.

"Fraternal, but twins," Connor added.

"That's so cool!" Alana said in awe. "I've never met twins before." Especially cute Irish ones.

"We're honored," Connor teased, making a slight bob of his head in a mock bow.

Alana felt the conversation running dry, much to her dismay. Had it just been Murphy or even just Connor alone, she'd have been bolder in conversation. But the twins together were a bit intimidating. They radiated energy that only the two shared.

"Crazy storm, huh?" Alana asked. She mentally face-palmed. Really? The weather?

"Aye, that it is," Connor agreed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black peacoat. She took notice that he and Murphy wore matching outfits. Yep. They're twins.

"Hope yah don't have far ta' go," Murphy said. "It's already startin' ta' snow pretty good out there."

Alana frowned. "Really? It wasn't supposed to start for another hour."

"It was comin' down hard when we came in about ten minutes ago," Murphy informed her.

Alana sighed. She wanted to keep talking to Connor and Murphy. They were very nice and it was funny watching them interact. But still, she had to make it home before the roads got too rough. "I'm sorry, but I have to go," she apologized. "It was nice meeting you two." She spared and extra smile for Murphy. "Thank you for the cocoa."

"Any time!" Murphy called after her.

"Be safe, lass!" Connor added.

Alana took her purchases to the front of the store. She went through the self checkout line to save some time before heading out to her car. The twins had been right. It had really snowed. She had to wade through an inch or two of snow before she actually made it to the quant vehicle.

The drive home took longer than normal because Alana drove slowly, cautious of the slick ice on the roads. She felt her car slide a few times, but she stayed calm and focused, allowing her to reach her driveway.

A driveway that had a sickly familiar car parked in it.

Alana pulled in, half considering leaving. She would've had the roads been in better condition. But as of now, they weren't safe to drive. So she decided to try and make it inside before he could get a chance to stop her.

She grabbed her bags in one hand, preparing to make the dash to the door. She clutched her keys in the other when she saw his car door start to open.

Without another thought, she ran. Ran like the devil was chasing her.

She huffed in the cold air, sucking it into her lungs, making them ache with exertion as she sprinted. She could hear him right behind her, slipping in the snow as he called her name. She blocked the sound out, only focusing on unlocking the door.

Alana had never been as relieved as she was to spin around and lock the door in his face behind her. She breathed, trying to calm her racing heart as he pounded on her door.

"Alana! Alana, baby, come on! Let me in!" his deep voice commanded her.

"Go away, Jase! I'll call the cops if you don't get out of here!" she yelled back through the door. Her heart was in her throat, choking her as she dared to defy him.

"Baby," he called, his tone waning of patience.

"Go away! Now!" she screamed back. Because there was no way he was ever going to touch her again.

About ten minutes later, he did go. Still, Alana sat, back pressed against the door, as if barricading herself. She tried her best to hold in the tears.

She rubbed her eyes, telling herself not to cry as she got to her feet. She sniffed a little, trying to compose herself as she went to her tiny kitchen and put away her groceries.

Alana took out a T.V. dinner and put it in the microwave before pulling out the cocoa mix. The memory of the friendly brothers pulled a smiled at the corner of her lips, even though she felt a little sad at the idea that she'd probably never see them again. Boston was a big city.

The microwave dinged. Her dinner was ready. Alana took her food and steaming mug and sunk down into her comfortable recliner.

She set the tray and mug on her coffee table as she hunted her remote. She found it hiding in the cushions of her couch. Alana reclaimed her spot in her chair and her food before clicking on her T.V.

"And here in South Boston, we've had yet another murder by the men who've been dubbed The Saints."

Alana considered turning the channel and finding something else to watch. She didn't really like to watch the news anymore. Recently, it had all become depressing, broadcasts about murders and thefts and other horrible things. But for some reason, she was interested in this story. She'd heard of these men called The Saints before. For some reason, they didn't bother her nearly as much as the other news did.

Maybe it's because they kill killers. Maybe it's because of them, people like Jase aren't walking around anymore hurting people. Maybe it was a lot of things. Point being, The Saints of South Boston didn't bother Alana Dyer. And while she didn't mind them, she wasn't about to go out and buy a 'Boston Loves the Saints!' t-shirt, either.

Instead, she would sit in her locked house, watching That 70's Show, eating microwaved turkey and sipping on a cup of hot cocoa.