We Are Bulletproof

Swaying idly back and forth in time to the music playing nearby, Niall perused the various art pieces on display. It was some kind of art in the park deal that they held near the end of the month every month. Niall was sort of a regular. Before he decided to stop working with his dad, his favored hobby had been this: painting. Sketching. Drawing. Photography. Hell, he even tried pottery and he liked it. He loved creation. But lately, all he had a hand in was destruction. Kinda poetic, actually, if he thought about it.

He didn't like to, though.

Instead, he swayed to some hipster's rendition of a Mumford and Sons song, knuckles pressed delicately to his lips while his eyes darted from one image to the next. The work was pooled together so there was no cohesion. One was a violently stricken piece in harsh, bright colors and then one next to it was softly touched pastels of a little girl. Niall liked that one. It sang innocence. He closed his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers and opened his eyes, grinning widely.

The closest person in the vicinity was grabbed by the shoulders and Niall leaned in. "Which one?" he asked, trying to bring his head down so that their eyes were level and he was seeing whatever his hapless victim was seeing before them.

"Which one?" he asked again, more insistently.

One of them was here.

One of the brothers, masquerading as a human, mingling with the crowd slowly eddying in and out of the park. Cain hunched his shoulders against a light wind and clutched the thin jacket to his body. A wisp of hair floated across his eyes and he flicked his head to get rid of it, though his gaze remained on the crowd, scanning it to and fro.

He was here. And Cain was going to catch him.

Being out in the crowd alone made his very soul shrink into itself but he persevered, because he had to do this all by himself. God told it to him in a vision and it had to be so. Not even his brother, his ever-present guardian, knew he was here. This was Cain's mission; this was his own special test of bravery. Just as God tested Adam, so was He testing Cain now.

He shrank away from a tent playing loud music, the sound jarring to his ears. Cain preferred quiet. Solitude. This was far from the environment that he enjoyed and he found his doubts growing, but... He couldn't quit now. Not now. Not when he had finally followed the Unclean creature to this place.

Someone grabbed his shoulder suddenly as he sidled past and, startled, Cain made to pull away. Which one? He stared at the man in silence, refusing to answer his question even as he asked again. Cain's gaze flickered to the tent, to the paintings. He looked back at the man again, his gaze a little more shrewd than his timid expression belied.

"..."

"Come oN!" Niall insisted again. The person he'd caught looked like a kid, a quiet kid. Quiet kids always puzzled Niall; he was the opposite growing up. He was the kid who slid down railings and sat cross legged in the middle of the mall to count pokemon cards. He even rode on the kid toys way past his prime. (He might even have done it last week, much to the chagrin of a screaming three year old who didn't have enough coins.)

"Just tell me," Niall said, "which one says something. Because when I look at them, they all kinda say something but sometimes it's just, like..." He mimicked a high pitched voice, "'Buy me because I'm conventional, look at this lakeside image anybody could create!'"

He placed both hands on either side of the kid's head and turned it toward an image that depicted a violent slash of yellow through a field of splashes of blues and reds and purples.

"But that... that says something else, doesn't it? It's like, like... in your soul."

Cain didn't flinch when his head was rudely grabbed but a soft gasp left him. He... He wasn't usually touched like this. In fact, no one touched him without his permission and even then, it was only Isaiah. Only his brother, who was cleansed and whose heart was pure—who had let God in so completely and utterly.

Normally, Isaiah prevented people from touching Cain or even getting near him. Normally he was the one putting out a hard hand, shoving them back and away with that dangerous look in his eyes. Normally, Cain stood back and watched in that silent way of his—the way that others called 'creepy' and 'unnatural.'

Isaiah wasn't here now, though, and Cain was alone. He didn't push the man away but inside the pocket of his jacket, his fingers tightened around the rosary. God wouldn't put him in harm's way. This was just a little setback—or maybe another test. He didn't want to attract too much attention for fear of being discovered, so perhaps he would play along now, and slip away later. His prey hadn't moved from this area; he had a little time to indulge the whims of a manic stranger.

Cain studied the painting that he was forced to look at. Yellow on blue, red, purple, orange. The colors clashed horribly, drawing the eye in every direction. One hardly knew where to look, but Cain—who was blessed with the Sight—spotted it immediately. Beyond the garish yellow and underneath the other bright colors, the truth of the piece.

Slowly he lifted a hand, the index outstretched, and he pointed to the near-invisible shape made by the absence of color. It was as if the artist painted around it deliberately, leaving the canvas blank to accentuate his piece.

"...a camillia..."

Silence fell while the boy studied the painting. Niall looked at it, too, squinting his kohl-darkened eyes at the colors as if they blinded him in their garishness. The colors had meaning but the lack of color had meaning, too. It took Niall a second to see it, to zoom in on that camellia the kid said he saw. The way the kid said it, Niall thought it sounded like Absolute Truth. Like it couldn't be anything else. It wasn't just some feathery answer plucked out of the air.

"See?!" Niall turned the kid toward him, letting out a laugh and then pulling the kid in close for a half shoulder hug. Dramatically, he kissed him on the forehead. "Muah~! Smart kid. And clever, too. Hard to see the magic in the world because of the... the distractions. The colors and the lines, they get in the way sometimes."

He lifted his free hand up to his forehead and then ran two fingers down his nose, eyes closed. But some people could see more than the human eye.

"Hey, are you hungry? I'm hungry."

He felt it then, as lips brushed against his forehead. Maybe it was a frivolous gesture—an obscene gesture—on the stranger's part, but it gave away his true identity. Cain's eyes widened, then narrowed. His breath stalled in his lungs and he gripped his rosary so tightly that the edges cut into his palm.

Sometimes, the sin was hard to see. Just like the delicate flower within the chaos of colors, the seed of the devil could deceive the senses. Cain thought that this stranger was human—albeit a highly strange human—but he was wrong. He felt it: this man was unclean. Tainted. Death trailed him and surrounded him. It had touched him and it made him unfit to live on this Earth, surrounded by the miracles of God.

Cain relaxed, however, into the stranger's half-hug. He didn't smile but he felt lighter. He was glad. This was the reason that God led him here, now he was sure. This man was the next target. Everything leading up to this moment, even Cain's original target, was a carefully orchestrated divine act.

He looked up at the stranger, into his eyes. He didn't speak for a long while, but he appraised him. Then, Cain nodded only once. "Yes." His voice was barely above a murmur but he was sure the man heard him. "Can we go away from here?"

The kid stared up at him and Niall stared back, nothing but friendly enthusiasm in his gaze. Maybe hunger, too, because he was hungry. But the kid was a cutie and Niall wanted to pat him on the head, so he did exactly that. Nobody said he had a strong sense of self control. Self indulgence, though? King of that whole mess. That was probably why he was where he was and why he was who he was. The kid wasn't smiling but he nodded so Niall took the inch for a mile and grinned.

"Yeah, there's this diner down the street where they have the best french toast. Thick, thick toast, soaked in all the stuff they say is bad for you. Syrup and butter and all that pretty powdered sugar..." He trailed off as his mind wandered off for a moment. It was probably bad juju to walk off with a kid like ten years his junior (maybe more? Less? Niall wasn't a good judge of kid ages). But Niall wasn't really thinking about that. Kid was a kid. Nothing weird was going to happen.

"Food's an art, too, isn't it?" he realized. "I guess anything can be art if you say it is."

As galling as it was to continuously be petted and touched and treated like a... a pet, Cain bore with it. Patience was as much of a virtue as anything and having gotten this far, Cain wasn't blowing his chances now. Not that the man was making it exactly difficult. If anything, he was throwing himself at Cain.

"...okay," was all he said in response to the garrulous volley of words slung his way, as he turned to follow the man out of the makeshift open market. They passed by stalls and tents hawking everything from wooden carvings to paintings to hand-made jewelry. Cain briefly eyed all of them in passing and then abruptly stopped.

"Wait a minute. Please." He tugged on the stranger's sleeve to halt him, and then turned to the kind-faced woman in the tent. Cain pointed to a beautifully carved wooden cross, sleek and shining, almost like a globule of honey in its lustre. It was simple, but cleverly made. "How much?" He asked quietly, and the woman smiled at him.

"Ten dollars, honey." Her eyes flicked up to the stranger and something like suspicion crossed her expression. Maybe they looked like a strange pair. The stranger was noticeable, ostentatious, flamboyant. And Cain... Well, almost all of their money went towards cleansing their sacrifices, and clothing wasn't exactly their top priority most of the time.

He handed over ten dollars and received the cross, which he tenderly tucked into the bag by his hip.

"Hm?" He raised a brow and stumbled to a stop, half turning to see what caught the boy's eye. It looked like a religious booth which was basically Niall's worst enemy. Hunters, a lot of them, were religious types. The kind that got blessed water to throw in evil's eyes. It was pretty intense. Some of their weapons were even shaped just like that, like the cross. Niall's older brother, Padraig had one that had wicked blades that came out. It was so stupid and impractical but he swore by that thing like it was a god itself.

"Religious, huh?" Niall said after the kid paid for his trinket. "My family really pushed that Catholic stuff. You know, the hail marys and the self flagellation. Maybe not so much actual self flagellation but we had to really think about what we did and why we did it. The darkness doesn't sleep, my old dad used to say. Probably still says it, actually. I used to think he meant himself. Old bastard never seems to sleep."

"For my brother."

Cain didn't have to explain himself but he didn't want this man to get the wrong idea. He wasn't buying it just because it was 'pretty' or anything like that. Cain had a good feeling about it. It caught his eye among all of the shiny trinkets and baubles, and he just knew that Isaiah would like it, especially since his was so worn. Ten dollars wouldn't make too much of a difference in their account.

"Ah." Religious. But he didn't know that Cain was destined. He was so painfully unaware that his blasphemy touched so close to the truth. This time, Cain did smile—a little one, but it softened his features.

"...sounds like my father." His father never seemed to sleep, either, but then... it was probably because he was so suspicious of what went on under his own roof. Cain couldn't count how many times his father would burst into the room that he shared with Isaiah, as though he expected them to be fornicating out in the open.

"You've lost your way, haven't you?" Not quite the lost sheep that had already captured Cain's heart, but close to it. Cain almost felt sorry for him.

Ohhh. Okay. Religious brother then. Niall wrapped his arms around his body as they walked, head lowered. He wished his brothers were so inclined but things got pretty ugly between them before Niall left. Everybody blamed Niall for what happened to their youngest sibling and honestly, Niall was there with them.

"Yeah..." He looked over at the kid with a smile, too. "Fathers, eh?"

The kid looked a lot nicer with a smile on his face. Less like a little robot kid and more like a real one. Plus they were bonding over shitty dads. Poor kid could probably use a better dad. How old was he again? Not that Niall was in any position to play daddy to some lost kid but he could be like, a cool uncle, maybe.

"Huh?" Speaking of lost... Seemed like they were both on that wavelength, too. Weird. "Lost my way from where? I prefer to think of it as wandering without a map. Or guide. Or, you know, anything else that marks the way and says 'this is where you go next'!"

Niall appraised the kid. "Are you lost? I mean, you look old enough to be out alone but..." The clothes. The clothes kinda made him look homeless, maybe. Lost.

Hm. Fathers indeed. Cain wondered if his father was the one who had doomed him to this life of sin. Or his mother? It was difficult to tell what type this man was, but he didn't feel right to Cain. Vampire, demon, incubus, werebeast, they all felt the same.

Off.

But even so... his smile was nice. Cain had seen all kinds of smiles and this man's was still a little childish. Gentle, though, if a bit wry. There was no intent behind it, at least none that Cain could make out. Then again, a grown man taking a young kid out to lunch...

"Did you ever believe?" Cain was ignoring the string of words and focusing in on what he wanted to know. "God." He had to elaborate; it seemed that this man needed to be walked through certain things.

"Believe?"

Oh. God. Of course. The cross and the belief thing--he should have connected those dots right away! But his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts on a good day. Was today a good day? He thought so. So far, anyway. Hopefully nobody would cuff him for walking off with a kid or anything. Maybe he shouldn't touch him. Was that wayward? God, he didn't know anymore. It wasn't like he was doing anything gross and he certainly didn't intend to.

And. There went his thoughts.

"Believe in God," he said again, mostly to bring himself back on track. "I don't know. I think so? When I was little. When I was a little kid, I think I did. Because my parents were supremely Catholic, you see, we had to say our prayers and the little ditties before meals, thanking him for it. But it was mostly out of fear, I'd say. My dad made us afraid of a lot of things..."

His voice went soft and distant, his gaze soon following. He had to wonder if it affected his elder brothers in the same way. He knew what it was like for himself and his younger brother because they were close. But there was a distance between himself and the others. Maybe they believed with all their heart. Niall had a hard time with that because there were beatings and shoutings and it was so hard for him to reconcile this good and loving being with the same one that would send him into hellfire for kissing another boy or forgetting the passage to some relic of a book that put kids like him to sleep.

"I don't know." He shook his head, as if it could shake off the memories. "But I can't anymore. God is supposed to be good but there's too much evil in the world for him to exist. I mean, if he loves us so much, why would he put us through this? Why would he even test us?"

He turned toward the kid. "I mean think about it, if I loved you, really, truly loved you, wouldn't I want to protect you? Wouldn't I want to make sure nothing bad happens to you? Why would I want to test your loyalty to me? Why would that even matter? Love's supposed to be unconditional but if you want God to love you, you have to meet all these conditions that aren't humanly impossible. It's like... like he set us up to fail from the start. And I just can't believe in that. I can't."

Unlike some of the other devout believers, Cain enjoyed listening to others explain their faith--or lack thereof. He was genuinely curious and he wanted to know why and how those others lost their faith. Something made them believe but a greater force--or temptation--made them walk down the wrong path.

He listened carefully to the stranger's every word, realizing mid-way that he didn't even know his name. Their acquaintance--for lack of a better word--was struck suddenly and without warning. But God had led Cain to this man, and He had delivered this man into Cain's hands to save. Above all, Cain was here to save souls. That was his true calling.

"That sounds like us." Was his only contribution, as the stranger's gaze seemed to focus on something in the distance. Somewhere not in the present. "Our father was like that, too."

The beatings. The fear. The rituals.

Cain lowered his head as talk turned to sacrifices. The argument that the stranger made wasn't new to him but even so, he was silent for a long while. Then, when he spoke, it was in a quieter voice still. "God tests us because He needs to know that we would put our love and faith in him over our love of any Earthly being. Only then can we truly claim to be His children. Our bodies here, on Earth, are fleeting but our faith must be eternal."

The shovel that Isaiah held scooped the dull earth with a monotonous clunk. Cain watched the bend of his back as he toiled, digging a hole large enough to hold two bodies. They laid silent and still on the cold, hard ground, covered by bed sheets.

Idly, Cain looked past Isaiah to the camillia bushes that flourished just beside the newly dug grave. Those used to be his mother's pride and joy. She tended them lovingly, almost obsessively, and Cain could remember how she took a stick to his back when he broke off a branch by accident. A bitter smile twisted his lips. Now there was no one to take care of them.

A few more scoops of earth and the shovel was thrown down by Cain's feet. He stood with almost detached calm and watched his brother heaving the bodies into the ditch. His eyes fell to the shovel. A voice spoke in his ear, a quiet whisper that he knew Isaiah couldn't hear.

Only Cain could hear God.

For the first time that night, his expression trembled. His lips parted, then flattened into a hard line. "No, God..." he whispered--or thought he did. But his lips didn't move so maybe the noise was only in his head. "Not Izzy. Please, not Izzy."

The shovel was there. He could take it. Swing. Another body to the pile. A sacrifice to God to prove his loyalty and faith. Isaiah was unclean. He had sinned. Cain's hand twitched by his sides but he didn't move. His throat worked, convulsed.

"I can save him. Let me save him, God."

"I think it's a Catholic thing. Or religious thing. Sorry. Didn't mean to assume your religion."

Crosses indicated Catholicism but not always. It could be another branch from the long branches that stemmed from Christianity. For all Niall knew, it was something new connected to the whole mythology. And yes, he considered it just that--mythology. He still had a hard time believing in anything that was made to force him into doing things out of fear. He would much rather do things out of love or just wanting to do something for people. Being told he'd take a switch to the ass if he didn't do something... it was just counterintuitive.

The kid seemed pretty devout, despite saying that the cross was for his brother. Huh. Well, maybe his brother needed it more. He could be going through a tough time right now. Niall reached out and lightly ruffled the kid's hair the way he used to ruffle his kid brother's.

"I can't. I love earthly things way too much. Like my little brother. I love him way more than any deity." And look what it turned him into. He didn't voice that part; at least he could be somewhat prudent at times.

"That's because you're selfish," said Cain placidly, and matter-of-factly. It wasn't a slight and his tone was neutral. He wasn't passing judgment on the stranger, either. Humans were selfish. Cain was selfish. Isaiah was selfish, too. It was a fact of life, but they didn't have to be bound by it hand and foot.

He smiled again, however, and this time his gaze held a little longer on the man. The way his head was rubbed was familiar. Isaiah wasn't the best at expressing himself, either, and Cain had learned to read into the gestures and touches that spoke for themselves.

"...my brother would probably say the same thing about me."

But in the end, when the Earth became scorched and when God reclaimed his children, only those who loved the divine creator could pass into Heaven. The others, no matter how deeply they loved those around them, were doomed. Cain wanted salvation; he knew that his brother did too. That was why they did what they did.

"I think... sacrifice can be love," he mused, almost more to himself. If God could promise Isaiah a place in Heaven, Cain might deliver his brother into His hands. He might... knowing that they would meet again some day.

Niall laughed at that.

"Can't argue with you there." Selfish was probably the first thing somebody might say when they described Niall. His father said it enough to drum it in there. Once upon a time, he felt intensely guilty for having any selfish thoughts. Then he started thinking for himself and stopped being afraid of deities and family and small town Catholic communities dedicated to fighting the supernatural. For once, he started thinking more about himself. And that made him selfish. And he stopped letting it define him or make him feel guilty.

For a while, anyway.

He sure felt guilty when he left home but the guilt was easily numbed when he realized vampires could suck the care right out of him. And incubi and succubi could bring intense ecstasy for what felt like a lifetime, all in exchange for some of his life. Did it even matter? His life didn't matter anymore; now all he lived for was that high. The moment when those so-called monsters used him. At least they needed him. And he liked that. He liked that need in their eyes.

"It's a brother thing," he said as he opened the creaking glass and wood door that led into the old diner. It's a brother thing. He hoped that it was. Even after all these years, he still hoped his brothers thought about him. Did they miss him? Did they care that he'd left? Or were they relieved?

"Maybe," Niall said vaguely as his gaze darted about the diner for a place to sit. At the moment, it wasn't too packed. Most of the people were out at the art fair, checking out the crafts and paintings. Ignoring the other patrons, Niall nabbed a booth towards the front and slid straight into it, patting the table.

"But I think sacrifice is for masochists and sadists. Not that I'm judging. But you--you're too young for that kind of thing." He peered at the kid. "Aren't you?" He reached his hand out to the kid. "Niall, by the way."

It's a brother thing.

Cain mused on that as they entered the diner, and a rush of warmth hit him like a close embrace. He felt the prickles against his cold-numbed skin and gently rubbed his hands together to get the blood flowing again. It was nice to get out of the cold; doubly nice to have something to eat. These small Earthly pleasures, Cain still looked forward to them (albeit with a tinge of guilt in his conscience). Maybe his father's Spartan upbringing was the cause of that.

He slipped into the booth after the man and took the offered hand. But Cain didn't shake like a dog. He held the hand and he looked at it, studied it, observed it. "Cain." The feeling intensified. This man was not human. He was almost one, but not quite, which somehow made it that much worse. That a human soul had been bent and perverted into this ungodly form was... saddening in the worst way.

Slowly, he let go of Niall's hand and tucked his hands into his jacket pockets. "I don't think I'm too young. If... if my brother had to sacrifice me, I'd want him to."

Niall watched the kid in interest as he studied his hand, wondering what he might be looking for. Did he forget to wash his hands? Were they dirty? Now he was looking at his own hands, trying to view them from another person's eyes. Long fingers, painted but chipped nails. A couple of knuckles scabbed over. Just small scabs, though. Mostly healed by now. Was that what he was taking in? Gay guy that got into fights? Niall liked to think of what his mother used to call them. An artist's hands.

Whatever the kid thought, he didn't say. That kind of person drove Niall crazy. He needed to know what was happening in his mind. What was he thinking right now? Niall leaned against the table and lightly tapped his knuckles against the table in time to the music playing over the speakers.

"Cain," he mused. "Now that's a proper Catholic name. I have a brother named Daniel. Like the one with the lion."

He looked down at his own hand after Cain let go of it, then pulled one of the menus closer even though he already knew what he was going to order. French toast! He couldn't talk about it and then not eat it.

"And that's some grim thinking, kid! Why would your brother have to sacrifice you? That's morbid, man. If he's a good older brother, he'll protect you. He'd rather sacrifice himself for you than do anything to you. That's how I see it. As a brother."

"I know the Book of Daniel," Cain nodded, recalling the countless hours spent memorizing the bible in his childhood. He could recite the good book backwards and forwards at this point. "It's a good name." A hero's name, unlike Cain, the betrayer of his own brother. The sinner who killed his brother because God favored Abel more than he did Cain. He had no idea what his parents thought when they named him, but perhaps they too were guided by God's hand in doing so.

Since Niall pulled his menu close, Cain copied him. He looked over the selection with a mounting sensation of hollowness in his stomach. It growled softly; he put a hand to his abdomen to quiet it. "It's... a brother thing." Briefly he looked up at Niall. Smiled at his own little joke. He wasn't obligated to explain anything to Niall, anyway.

"My brother does protect me." His eyes were back on the menu, perusing the pictures of pancakes and fruit. Isaiah wouldn't like him sitting here talking to a stranger, though. But he would understand--it was for the greater good. "Is Daniel the name of your little brother?"

Niall smirked at his own words being used back at him. Yeah, okay. It was a brother thing. He had to accept that as an answer if he was allowed to use it. He mused on Daniel's name, though. Daniel was the only one with an obviously biblical name like that. Most of them were named more typically Irish names. Daniel was most popular at school, though. People called him Danny and he was the cool guy who got a secret tattoo. He showed it to Niall before anybody else. But he got just about flogged for it when their dad found out.

Shoving the menu aside, Niall set both elbows on the table and regarded Cain with studious hazel eyes.

"Daniel's my older brother. I call him the cool brother, because he wasn't as bad as the rest of them. Lorcan was the little one. He was like my little duckling. Everywhere I went, he went. Oh wait, that's Mary and her little lamb, isn't it?" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed before slinking back against the shabby booth.

"Where's your brother now?"

"You have so many brothers," Cain said with something close to awe in his voice, raising wide eyes to Niall again. That many brothers. It sounded like heaven. So many people to protect and love him. A big family; a proper family, like the ones Cain read about in books. (The books approved by his parents, and later on, any book he got his hands on.)

"So you're not the oldest." It was phrased as a musing rather than a question. Cain fiddled with the edge of his menu as he thought about it--a big family. Brothers. He wouldn't have traded Isaiah away for anything or anyone, but he had always wanted to be part of a big family ever since he was little. A real family. Not like the kind that they were forced into--not like the one at the commune.

"My brother Izzy--Isaiah--is waiting for me back home." He would be now, once he discovered that Cain had left. Cain sort of snuck out while Isaiah was still asleep, drawing the blankets up over him and then tip-toeing out. He had a dream, which manifested itself into a mission. Cain sighed this time and similarly leaned back against the seat. "Are you a good brother?"

"I know, right?!" Niall started counting them off on his fingers. "There's Colm Jr, named after my dad. Then there's Padraig, you'd probably like him, he's totally into crosses and stuff. Daniel, he's the cool one I told you about. And then there was Lorcan."

He reached for a cup of coffee that wasn't there and sighed before raising his arm as high as it would go (and it went pretty high since he had long limbs) so that he could catch the attention of the diner staff.

"And nah, second to youngest, actually." Youngest now, but he didn't ever think of it that way. Lorcan's ghost was always there, resting on his shoulders. He couldn't forget about him, no matter how hard he tried.

"Can we get drinks over here?" Niall called out, batting his eyelashes. "Please?"

He glanced back at Cain as he lowered his arm. He hated that question. It poked him right in the tender heart parts. Fiddling with the menu, he shrugged but it was difficult to fully disguise the way the question made him feel.

"I wanted to be. But if I could go back in time, I'd be a better one."

"Ah?" His uncomprehending noise was delicately colored with a question. Was. There was Lorcan? Niall didn't go on to explain, instead flagging down a tired-looking waitress who seemed wholly unaffected by his flickering eyelashes. She sent him the driest of dry looks and wrote something down onto a little notepad.

"What'll ya have?"

It was Niall she addressed first, so Cain remained silent until it was his turn to speak. He asked for a milk, pointed to the pancakes, received a slightly less dry look, and then the waitress wandered away. After she had left--to yell their orders to the cook out back--Cain cleared his throat. There was no mistaking that look of regret. Cain could recognize that anywhere.

"Did something happen to... Lorcan?"

"French toast!" He clapped his hands in glee. French toast~! He could already almost taste that powdery sugar and too much syrup. Niall was one of those bastards who drowned his bread in it, so it was basically syrup with a side of toast. His stomach rumbled in irritation. He wasn't joking when he declared he was hungry earlier. "Coffee, too. Lots of cream and sugar. Thank you~"

Niall turned back toward Cain with a clueless smile, twining his fingers together on the table. But then he didn't like that Look on Cain's face. So serious. He was back to being a little robot, trying to read his mind. Niall lowered his head. Of course. He said WAS when referring to Lorcan. Of course Cain was going to CLENCH onto that. Niall slowly raised his head, raising his threaded fingers so they rested beneath his chin.

"Yes. He's... no longer with us. Probably around your age when he died." He looked away.

The similarities were almost too much to ignore. Little brother. Big brother. Brothers who loved each other, brothers who protected one another. Brothers who had regrets, who tried their best to atone for the sins of the past.

Cain didn't speak for long moments, lost in his own thoughts. A part of him went out to Niall, seeing the way that the light in his eyes extinguished when he spoke of his brother's death. It was like a part of his light went out when he had to recount his tragic loss. Cain nodded silently to himself.

"He must be with God now."

Cain's voice was firm and sure. He leaned forward until the edge of the table hit his midsection and the light that had gone out in Niall's eyes blazed in his. "He'll be waiting for you there."

Okay, the silence was really, really starting to get to him. Niall hated the silence. It left too much time to the racing thoughts and the racing thoughts weren't always nice. He looked up and searched the diner for their server. Where did she go? Where was that drink? God, he could use that coffee. Or maybe not. Was he already jittery? He didn't think so, but he was sort of knocking on the table nervously to the tune of another old pop song playing over the speakers.

Noticing that, he stopped and slid out a sugar packet. Cain leaned forward and his words made Niall rip the top of the sugar open, spilling sugar across the table between them.

"He's with God now." Colm Gallagher Sr. said as he stood stoically before the coffin in front of them. Niall's brothers all lined up beside him, one by one, from eldest to youngest. Niall stood apart from them, with his mother's arms around his shoulders as if she could stop him from doing something stupid. She couldn't. She never could. Pushing away from her, Niall kicked a mound of dirt into the rectangular hole.

"No! No he's not! There is no GOD! If there was, he never would have taken Lor! He was like, like, like the very picture of innocence so why would he want to take him?! There's no god!"

SMACK!

Niall's father stood imposing before him, all of his six foot five frame towering over his son, his fist shaking while his expression remained nothing but stone. Except those eyes. Those eyes could have killed. They wanted to. Niall could feel it, the way his father stopped himself from punching him again, until his son's face was nothing left but pulp.

"Do. Not. Speak like that before me again. Understand?"

The scar through his father's lip gave him a perpetual sneer. But even without it, Niall felt it deep in the pit of his stomach. The hatred. The regret. The desire to extinguish the life he ultimately created. Niall could feel the heat prickling behind his eyes but he blinked the sensation back. Spitting out a gob of blood, Niall grabbed his stinging cheek and turned away, striding away even as his father bellowed at him not to walk away from him.

"He's not," Niall said finally, sweeping the sugar into his hand and not looking at Cain.

In the interminable silence that followed, Cain's eyes didn't leave Niall's face. Even when those tiny grains of sugar spilled all over the table, cascading his way, he didn't stop staring. It was as if he thought that maybe he could hypnotize Niall into believing what he so fervently believed.

"He is." Cain's voice was no less certain than before. He reached out a hand, obeying some strange impulse—a little brother thing, perhaps—to comfort Niall. His hand closed over Niall's and gripped it tight.

"He's there. I know it. You know it too." It was just the selfishness and the pain and the grief that blinded Niall to the truth.

Ding!

A bell rang somewhere, dimly, and Cain ignored it but the door behind him had opened. The sound of many feet tramped inside, and mens' voices. Familiar voices, though. Cain started. Then he ducked his head and turned it so that he could avert his face, because he thought he heard Jem.

"I don't see Ken, Jem," someone said close by, and Cain shimmied further into the booth. He didn't want to be seen by them. He didn't want to be caught with this man, because that would put him into definite danger and... part of Cain thought that maybe Niall could be saved in a way that didn't involve putting him six feet under.

Niall laughed bitterly. No, he wasn't. And even if he was, Niall wouldn't meet him there. He would go to the Other Place. If not for not believing, then for his other sins. Niall couldn't even count his sins on his hands at this point. What kind of person was he? Cain didn't know. He didn't know Niall let creatures of the night have their way with him until he couldn't think anymore. They were the only thing that stopped the racing thoughts anymore. That or that street drug, prystal. Cain was a pure little kid. He didn't know anything about addiction. He didn't know about drugs and depraved sex and death. He didn't know.

And he shouldn't. Niall wanted him to stay innocent, like Lor.

His hand formed into a sticky fist, the sugar sticking to his palm and his fingers. The kid just wanted him to believe in something. He probably thought he could save his soul and set him on the way to heaven. Niall wasn't just a black sheep, he was a lost sheep and Cain was trying to shepherd him to salvation. Too bad most of Niall didn't want it, even if a kernel of him did.

The sound of a bell and several noisy boots and men pulled him out of his reverie and Niall snapped his head up at the sound of the voices. He let out a soft, amused snort.

"I used to know a Ken." He cocked his head to the side. "Come to think of it, I knew a Jem once, too."

Then he noticed that Cain was pushing himself further inside the booth and Niall followed suit, trying to tuck his six foot tall frame smaller against the wall of the booth, eyes on Cain.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Are they after you? Bullies!"

Abruptly he stood up, hands slapping the table.

"No, they're—"

Pointless to explain now, as Niall stood up so suddenly and slapped the table so loudly that even Cain flinched. The voices ceased. Cain almost felt the eyes on them, the heads swerving, the brows raising. He ducked even further down but—

"Cain?"

Cain swallowed. "Go!" He half-whispered to Niall. "You have to get out of here! They'll hurt you!"

They were all staring at him. This was nothing new; Niall was used to that kind of stare, since he was wearing a shirt that bared his midriff, a flowy blouse from the thrift store atop that, and pants tight enough to look like they could have been painted on. His nails were painted black, and then there was the kohl spread around his eyes like a raccoon. He was quite aware that people stared--that didn't really bother him.

But they knew Cain and they were bullies. They were making Cain cower inside the booth in fear and that--THAT--was not okay. NOT okay.

Niall skirted around the table and toward the group of men, not at all heeding poor Cain's warning. They were going to hurt him? Hah! Maybe! But no more than he hurt himself on a daily basis.

"What're you doing picking on a kid?" Niall asked, poking the closest one square in the chest. He didn't expect the man to grab his wrist and tighten until it made an icky cracking sound. Niall whimpered and bowed forward in pain.

"A-a-ahhhh, alright alright, you... bully," he sputtered, trying to delicately pull his arm back into his possession while also maintaining his position as defender of innocent kids.

"No! Stop! He's—my friend!"

Cain didn't speak louder than a whisper most days, so his outburst halted the rest of the hunters closing in on Niall, intent on finishing the job. He ran out of the booth—nearly catching himself on the end of the bench—and put out a hand to clutch at Jem's wrist. "Stop, he's my friend..."

The wrist looked broken, or at least severely sprained. Cain bit his lip, trying to decide how much he should say to Niall to diffuse the situation. It was all a misunderstanding, really. Niall thought Jem and the others wanted to hurt him and the others... Well, they probably wondered why a flamboyant stranger tried to attack them out of nowhere.

"They're... not bullies," he explained at last to Niall. "They're not here to hurt me." They would hurt Niall, though, if they knew that he was one of the Unclean—but Cain wasn't going to tell them that.

The guy let go of his wrist and Niall immediately nursed it against his chest, holding it gingerly with his good hand. Ouch. He was afraid to even move it in case it had broken. It definitely crunched when that guy grabbed it. He fully intended to break everything, didn't he? Shit. Niall looked up at the apparent not-bullies who were eyeing him with really unfriendly expressions, every last one of them. Sheesh. What did he do? He was just trying to stick up for a kid. Ow.

"Well, they hurt me."

Jerks. Bullies.

Then the one called Jem leaned forward, peering at Niall as if to get a better look at him. Niall side-eyed him. What? What was he looking at?

"Niall?" Jem said, then let out a whistle. "Niall Gallagher? Is that you? Shit. You grew up, didn't you?"

Somebody from behind made a scoffing sound. "His clothes didn't."

Somebody else laughed at that. Niall frowned. Hunters. It was the same Jem. Well. Fuck. His. Life.

Cain hated seeing Niall hurt. He hated seeing anybody hurt because that wasn't what God wanted. God wanted to save and forgive, not to inflict pain and torment. Only the Devil did that--and Niall wasn't the Devil, no matter how funny his mode of dress or his behavior. He was a big brother; he loved his little brother. Nobody who did that was truly evil.

He slid to Niall's side and awkwardly latched onto the edge of his shirt. "I'm sorry," was all he got to say before Jem leaned in, and Cain tensed--expecting the worst. But Jem's face cleared and he seemed to recognize Niall. Cain blinked. "Huh?" he said before he could stop himself. "You know him, Jem?"

But... but Niall was Unclean and Jem was a hunter! Of course, there were supernaturals on their side--rare, but possible. Was Niall one of them? That almost made Cain feel better about this whole situation--saving Niall now only meant bringing him back to God's side, which could be done with patience and perseverance and a whole lot of preaching.

"...you're not going to hurt him, are you?" he asked Jem hopefully, ignoring the jibes of the others.

"You are a bunch of bullies," he intoned as he pulled his shirt down to no avail. Admittedly, he was not altogether excited to be seeing Jem and his hunter team. Jem grew up nearby and his team overlapped with the Gallaghers plenty of times. Jem used to be pretty close friends with Paddy, too and the both of them were bullies and jerks. Seemed like some things didn't change. But Jem got real ugly after the whole thing came out that Niall wasn't... straight. Even now, he was looking him over like he could barely stand the sight of him. But there was surprise there, too. He probably thought Niall couldn't hang on his own.

"No reason to," Jem said, in response to Cain's question, even though he already hurt him--hello, wrist?! "He's just an ex-hunter." Jem suddenly snapped his gaze toward Cain, shrewd and intensely interested. "Why... would you ask that, though? Hm, Cain?"

His gaze swung back to Niall, who flinched.

"Did you get yourself bitten? Attacked?" Jem reached over and gripped Niall's hair to jerk his head to the side, revealing the bite marks underneath the high collar of his shirt. "Vampires? Really? What is he, Cain? He's been turned?"

"H-he's... my friend and you were--you were--"

Under Jem's scrutiny, Cain shrank back. He disliked the way that Jem now looked upon him with suspicion, as though he could see through Cain's thoughts. He doubly didn't like the way that the words were thrown at him, casting his words and motivations into doubt. Jem was hurting Niall, so Cain thought... maybe he might hurt him some more. But Jem latched onto it and now... Now...

Cain wished that Isaiah were here. Isaiah would have spoken up for him. He would have used words that Jem couldn't twist around; he wouldn't have let Jem hurt a friend of Cain's. But Isaiah was probably out looking for him now, because he'd run off at the crack of dawn to follow his visions. God's vision, sent down in the form of a dream.

Ex-hunter?

Niall used to be one of them?! But that was wonderful! Cain's happiness was short-lived, as Jem swooped in again, heavy-handed as usual. "No! He's not--not a vampire! No!" Cain couldn't be sure, but he didn't think Niall was one of those creatures. The marks on his throat were damning, but the feeling he got from Niall was different from the one he got off of vampires. "You said you weren't going to hurt him..."

Jem remembered Niall. He was sort of impossible to forget. Even as a kid, he was weird. There was something off about him. Jem's adoptive father used to say he was touched in the head and to never mind him, mostly because he didn't want to cause friction between them and the famous Gallaghers. Paddy said he was weird, too. Didn't like him, either. Sometimes they cornered Niall and they... well, they basically tortured him as a kid. Paddy said he deserved it. He was off. He was touched in the head. It wasn't like it mattered, anyway. Niall sucked at everything he did. He couldn't shoot, he couldn't use weapons. He cried any time he had to kill something.

It all sort of made sense when Colm Sr. found out he was fucking around with guys. Everything clicked. No wonder he was fucking queer. He was queer.

And he was still queer, by the looks of it. Not even a hunter anymore. He didn't deny it, when Jem said ex. And he had those bite marks. He was screwing with vampires now. Cain, he knew. He had some kind of sight, some kind of detection ability. He could feel the supers out. But he was protecting this one, so he couldn't be. Could he? Jem couldn't tell exactly but he felt like Cain was lying. Or covering up. Something.

"I'm not," Jem said, letting go of Niall's hair none-too-gently. "He likes it rough. He lets vampires bite him."

Niall pulled his collar back up but it didn't matter. The bites had been seen by all of them. They were ugly. The mark of the Unclean. Even if Niall was just a human, he had been touched by death. Disgusting. Jem would never let a vampire put its lips anywhere near him.

"Where the fuck is Ken?" Jem said as he turned away from Niall and Cain, irritated that they were still waiting on him.

All the way into Hazleton, Ken mused over his chance encounter with Gregg and the newbie, Aldon. Something just felt off about those two. He didn't mind so much the PDA or that Gregg's edges had softened since the last time they met, it was Aldon. The nervousness. It was a warning sign and Ken, he always heeded the signs.

But he also didn't want to get on Gregg's bad side, not without proof. Aldon had none of the usual marks on him and his nervousness could be a result of their job. Those vampires upstate were no joke and falling prey to them... Well, Ken would rather slice off his own neck than fall under the thrall of one of them. Blood-sucking parasites were all they were, he thought with uncharacteristic bitterness.

Still, Ken just didn't feel quite at ease around Aldon and he wished that he could have spent a little more time with him, to figure him out. But he had pressing business in Hazleton. Jem's group were on to something and Ken was here to help. Supernaturals who hunted hunters. Cute. Ken's eyes fell to the bag sitting by his feet, which contained his weapons, passed down through the generations. Nobody was going to hurt hunters while he was around.

Once the bus dropped him off at the depot, he took a brisk walk towards the diner where he was supposed to meet with Jem and his men. It wasn't far, the woman at the ticket counter assured him. Two blocks, turn left, and--there it was. Red Rocket Diner, the sign said, and through grimy windows Ken saw a group of men. He pushed through the door, let it swing shut behind him, and paused.

"Jem." Ken approached, ignoring briefly the kid and the man with the garish makeup. "What's going on?"

"Speak of the devil!"

Jem shook his head as the others turned to see Ken in the flesh. So he'd finally made it. They could use the help; the supers hunting hunters sounded funny but the number of hunters that had been killed so far were starting to actually worry Jem--and Jem was not a worrier. He was a man who took care of business and this business was getting out of hand.

"Let's get to it, then, shall we?"

Jem rubbed his hands together and then nodded toward a big booth in the back. The diner was owned by one of them so he knew he could count on the owner to keep any busybody supers out of their hair. That was exactly why he chose this location. It was one of few they could meet publicly. The owner even turned over the sign in the window to say they were currently closed before standing behind the counter with an authoritative air.

As they started toward the booth, Jem moved toward Ken and grinned.

"Guess who we just bumped into?"

"Of course. That's what I'm here for." All business, all the time. Ken had no mind for frivolities now. Once, perhaps, he believed in a more balanced lifestyle but that was all in the past now, and he was content to keep the past where it belonged--in the past. The Ken that people knew now had grown up considerably from the teenager with big dreams and fairy stories in his head.

As he passed, he cast a glance towards the obvious sore thumbs in the diner. The kid trailed along with them, surprisingly, and the other man... Underneath the panda eyes and facial hair, it was hard to tell what he actually looked like. Ken thought for a second that he recognized him but he couldn't quite put his finger on a name.

"Hm?" Jem was saying something. Ken turned back to him with a wry smile. "The loch ness monster."

Jem let out a bark of a laugh.

"Oh yes, I met the loch ness monster, finally, after all those years in the fucking UK, I met the bastard here, in the US!"

Some of the others laughed as well, which only made Jem smirk more. Nessie probably did exist at some point, but hunters had likely taken it out. Too bad. Jem would have liked a go at it for himself. Shaking his head, he thrust a thumb back toward Cain and his unwelcome dog, who was trailing behind him like some lost little sheep that didn't know what else to do with himself.

"No, mate! It's that fucking weirdo, Niall Gallagher!" As far as Jem knew, Ken was on the same page as himself and the others in regards to Niall. Niall's father never said who the guys were that his son was fucking with and Jem didn't even know if the old man even knew. Ken was a little quiet after Niall left, sure, but that was probably just because the Gallaghers were being cut down in their prime. Privately, Jem and his father were glad. It meant there was finally time for other hunter families to shine in the spotlight for once.

"That's him, in the fucking raccoon makeup, queer as ever. Our kid, Cain here, found him, apparently."

Ken cracked a tiny smile. See? He was capable of humor, dry though it was. The loch ness monster was the stuff of legends. Some trophy hunter had probably gotten to it first, though. There were ones who didn't hunt for the sake of the greater good, but for sport. For the heads of supernatural creatures to mount up onto their walls. For the pure adrenaline of hunting something that could fight back.

Ken wasn't like that, but he knew men and women like that. His cousin was one of them, too--a legacy hunter who used his skills for selfish reasons. Ken wasn't passing judgment but he thought that it was a waste nonetheless. Then again, his cousin was also the one who sold him out so he supposed that the trophy hunting was in line with the kind of snake that he was.

"What?" Jem's words stopped him in his tracks. Somebody rammed into him, he stopped so fast, and the man grumbled as he bumped past Ken. But Ken barely felt the shoulder check. He was too stunned to move and when he did, it was only to turn his head to stare, uncomprehending, at the man with the makeup.

Niall? Here? Was that really him? He looked... completely different from the kid with the fresh face and bright, cheery voice that Ken once knew. This couldn't be the same one whom he held hands with, who laid with him under the stars and whose laugh was so infectious that Ken had to join in, too. Not the Niall who collapsed into him after Lorcan's death, whose pain was Ken's pain. Ken barely recognized him--and they were once nearly inseparable.

"...Niall?" Where was he inside of this man?

Should he leave? He thought he should but the guy behind the counter looked like he might bite his head off if he asked him to unlock the door to let him out. The business was supposed to be closed, after all. Maybe Niall could just... inch over and open it himself but he couldn't tell if he should. Was he supposed to stay? He was an ex-hunter, as Jem so prudently put it. Whatever they talked about could get back to the people they were fighting. They couldn't trust Niall not to spit out what they were doing to the vampires they already knew about.

Niall shifted his shoulders slightly.

He heard the name Ken but it was a common name. It wasn't until he actually looked at him while he interacted with Jem that he realized that there was history between the two. This Ken was probably that Ken. In fact, how many Kens with an accent like that had white blond hair like that?

Niall was struck with the sudden instinct to duck into another booth, maybe even underneath a table. Ken was the last person he wanted to see right now. Seriously, things were already messed up for him. He didn't need Ken around to 1. see it and 2. add to it. It took a long time to get over him. He didn't need him looking at him and bringing the past flooding back. But too bad for Niall because Ken turned around and looked at him and Niall blinked and stared back before looking behind him, as if there was another Niall around.

Insecurity mounted the longer Ken looked at him. This Ken was hard to read now. Niall used to be able to make him laugh with his stupid jokes and his antics. Somehow, this Ken looked like he would watch him with a stone expression. No, no. He did make that joke about Nessie. There was still some of the old Ken in there. It was just that he was joking around with Jem, of all people. It stabbed Niall in the heart, seeing those two exchange smiles. The worst of his past and the best of his past. Colliding.

"In the flesh," he said with a half grin, raising both his hands in an almost shrug, then wincing and bringing his wounded wrist back to his chest like wounded bird with a lame wing. "Although I don't think I'm supposed to be here so... I think..." He stepped backward, hip brushing a table on the way out. "I'll be going now. Art in the park's still going on and I wanted to smuggle--I mean buy--a painting to brighten up the old studio."

"Get out of here," Jem said dispassionately. "You're not a part of this, anyway, ex-hunter."

Ten years ago, Ken would never have palled around with someone like Jem. His jokes were just as rare then as they were now, but he reserved them for Niall. They would fall over laughing at the stiff delivery and the horrible punch lines. The bad jokes became their inside joke.

Ten years on, however, Ken had learned to work with those in all walks of life. That meant making nice with people like Jem. There was good and bad in everyone; Jem's prejudices didn't take away from the fact that he wanted to protect people from the horrors of the supernatural. Maybe his bedside manner needed work, but as a team leader he wasn't half bad.

It was just hard to justify the way that he spoke about Niall. So dismissive. As though Niall wasn't worth a grain of his time. Ken immediately bristled at his tone and his words but the shock of seeing Niall here had yet to wear off. As Niall sought to make a hasty retreat, he stood staring at him, trying to piece together the puzzle of the man before his eyes.

Ex-hunter, Jem said acidly. In their circles it was a mark of shame. As legacy hunters, even more so. The Gallagher family was perhaps the most well-known in Ireland. Even today, their legend lived on in the descendants of the first Gallaghers, who drove the werebeasts out of Ireland. Compared to them, Ken and even Jem's families were nothing. They were peasants. But it was Jem who held his head high now, and looked upon Niall with scorn and dark contempt.

Just like Niall's family. Like his uncompromising father and his stern brothers. Like Ken's own family, who bore his presence in silent shame and disappointment. After their affair was exposed, Ken sought to distance himself. He thought of it now with a lump in his throat still. He was young. Naive. The approval of his elders meant everything to him back then.

"...wait." He crossed the room in a few strides. "Your wrist." A good hunter noticed everything, after all. "You should--get that looked at."

It was weird seeing Ken after all these years. Ten years was a long time to grow up and change. Ten years ago, now matter how weird Niall was, he wouldn't have been caught dead in makeup and tiny shirts. His father would have murdered him. Or at least punished him. His father's favorite punishment was to lock him in his spartan bedroom and tell him to pray for his damned soul. If he so much as moved an inch, it was like his father knew. So Niall would kneel there before his bed until his knees bruised and bled and he would plead with god to understand that he wasn't spitting in his face. He just...

"Why did you make me this way if it's a sin?" he cried out, gripping the sheets to lessen the pain in his knees. "Why? How is killing a part of your grand plan? You tell us not to kill people... why are we killing them? Why is it worse to love somebody? I don't understand. Give me a sign. Please, god. I need a sign. I need your mercy. I need..."

He needed something. He starved for love and affection. He yearned for it. His mother daren't show him much around others. His brothers distanced themselves. And after Lor died, there was nobody in the family he could consider an ally. So there was Ken.

Ken made everything sore better. When all Niall wanted to do was bawl his eyes out and claw out his hair and throw himself into the lake, Ken was there. They talked about it, about what happened to Lor. Ken didn't care if he let his grief show. He let him bare his soul. But it felt like a betrayal and a slap in the face when he turned away from him later, after they were caught.

That hurt. It hurt more than he could even express. And it hurt to see him now, all grown up and achingly handsome. What was that look in his eyes even about? He was Jem's pal now.

But he still broke away and noticed the wrist. It hurt like a bitch and it was turning a nasty purple color. The skin was puffing out. Definitely a break. He couldn't even really move the fingers anymore. Jem really did a number on him.

"The doctor's clinic is like two doors down. No big deal. I'll be fixed up in a jiffy." He whistled to emphasize the jiffy.

"Just let him go, Ken," Jem said. "He's not one of us anymore and he's cavorting with vampires now. He could take back whatever we say to them and warn them. Cain can go with him, if you're that worried."

"I--" could go with you, he wanted to say. He wanted to make sure that the broken wrist was set properly. Otherwise, it might grow in wrong and hamper Niall for life. It could become his disability later on. He didn't say that, though, because his hand said something else for him as it reached out and latched onto Niall's uninjured hand. Just for a moment, for a fleeting second.

Ken was aware of Jem and the others watching them, but he no longer cared. He didn't care to care. If they cast him out for this, then they were the ones losing out on a damned good hunter, and Ken knew that they needed him more than they needed to justify their prejudice and ignorance. If he'd had this kind of confidence ten years ago, things might have been different. Niall might not have fled and Ken... he might have lived a happier life, too.

"Wait for me. At the clinic." The meeting would be quick; it was just so Jem could debrief him on their progress up to this point. The young lad that had been silent thus far had sidled up, and when Ken dropped his hand, the lad's replaced it.

I...? Niall leaned forward. I what? I'm sorry? I love you? I missed you? I couldn't find a soul like you and I never will~ The racing thoughts grew wilder by the second, although some of them were a little less amusing and a little more messed up. Like I regret everything with you. And I hate you. He didn't think that was actually where Ken was going, though, because his hand met Niall's uninjured hand like he was trying to say something supportive without saying it aloud.

Typical. God, it hurt not to be able to just be open about things. Niall hated having to hide everything. Skulking around like he was ashamed of who he was. God hated him, God hated faggots and wanted them dead and burning in hell but there was no way that kind of happiness was a creation of the devil. And if he didn't believe in one, it was hard to believe in the other. Maybe he did still believe. It felt like hellfire was always right on his backside, reminding him of where he was going after all this.

"Righto. At the clinic. Can't miss it. It's the one with the big clinic sign."

He turned his gaze toward Jem and the others, whom were all settled in for their Big Meeting. Niall winked and blew a kiss in Jem's direction.

"Try not to miss me too much, big boy."

The look that crossed Jem's face was priceless. And Jem was across the room in his seat, squished between two of his guys so he couldn't come at Niall now. Tugging on Cain's hand, Niall moved past Ken and he didn't know why but he winked at him before leaving, making a kissing motion with his lips. If Ken wanted to pretend there was nothing between them, he could do it until the end of time but Niall wasn't afraid of the repercussions of being queer anymore.

"Tata, losers!" He waved as he passed the scary guy behind the counter with Cain in tow. "Have fun finding your supes without an insider."

And with that, he floated on out the door with Cain, feeling quite a bit more triumphant than he did a short time ago. But as soon as they were out of earshot of the others, he said to Cain, "It's so exhausting being me, you have no idea."

It wasn't that his thoughts were too gay to expose. They were too private. Ken wasn't... flamboyant. He had overcome a lot of his upbringing but he couldn't not still be himself, and he just wasn't the type to stand on rooftops shouting it out loud. He was more the type to wait for a quiet moment, when they were all alone, to say the words that came straight from the heart. Nothing fancy about him, no grandstanding or showy displays.

Niall, though, was all flamboyance, to the point of it being almost overdone. Like he wanted to leave no one in doubt as to his sexuality, after being repressed for the better part of his teenage years. Ken didn't say anything to his parting shots and he didn't smile when Niall winked at him and kissed the air in his direction. It felt like a bit of a mockery, if he had to be honest. Or maybe a reminder of what they used to be, and how he denied it towards the end, now thrown right back in his face.

But somehow, Ken didn't think that the gesture was completely friendly.

He slowly turned back to Jem, who looked fit to burst. He saw the lad raising his innocent, pale face to Niall and saying something to him, their hands clasped. It reminded him of the way Lorcan used to hold on to Niall. At least he had somebody here, Ken thought with a pang in his chest.

"Tell me about the hunter hunters." His tone was back to being all business again as he brushed off the unsettling encounter. He sat down opposite of Jem with his steely gaze--no less intense than Gregg's could be. "How many of ours did they get? What manner of creatures are they?"

Jem crossed his arms and sat back, a lazy smirk drawn across his face. He hadn't missed that--what Niall just did to Ken. It was a copy of what he'd done to Jem.

"Cold reception, huh?"

It seemed like Niall didn't like Ken, either. Well, good. For a few moments, Jem thought there was something weird coming from Ken's direction toward Niall, like that odd hand touching and wanting to check up on him. It was probably just past concern. If he recalled, Ken and Niall used to be friends at one point. No wonder Niall gave him such a chilly reception, then. Friends to nothing. He probably hated Ken more than he hated Jem. Haha!

Good. That made him and Ken friends, as Jem saw it.

The smirk disappeared as work was brought to he forefront. Of course. After waiting for him for so long, Ken was finally here and he was going to want to get down to business. Jem didn't remember him being quite this serious--he could have given Gregg a run for his money. But at least he still had a sense of humor. Jem couldn't even remember the last time Gregg so much as smiled, let alone made a joke. He was like a big coatrack in the corner but he got his work done. Until he disappeared. Hadn't seen much of him lately and they really could have used him.

"At least eight that we know of for sure," Jem said, now all seriousness. It was not amusing to him, finding those bodies. Those eight were all very obviously murdered by supernatural means. "Three others that we're not sure about but we have our suspicions. And Kyle here narrowly escaped some kind of death hex a few weeks ago. We've got eyes on at least two of them, but it's tough to suss out the rest of them. So we're thinking of nabbing somebody close to one of them and... extracting the information we need."

It was so much easier to focus on business and not on Niall when Niall wasn't in the room. Ken always had that ability to compartmentalize, but the shock of seeing Niall here had really thrown him for a loop. He preferred to keep his private and professional lives separate, but... people like Niall didn't always play by the rules. They didn't play fair, either.

Ken ignored Jem's remarks, but flashed him a tight smile. Sure. What someone like Jem thought didn't matter to him—unless it had to do with work. He listened intently, eyes on Jem, gaze flickering only to look at Kyle who survived a hex. Ken nodded slowly.

"The witch might be easiest to track. If he or she cast the hex, then we can follow the magic trails. How long ago did it happen, Kyle?" Ken turned his attention onto the hunter, who shrugged.

"Three weeks back, round about the old motel outside town. Was following up a lead on some weres."

"That area's not heavily trafficked?"

"Nah. Deserted mostly. Weird shit happened there 'round Halloween last year, locals too spooked to go near the place."

Ken nodded again. He reached into the bag sitting on the bench next to him and pulled out a delicate, blue glass sphere. Currently, it was cloudy. "This picks up magic trails. If we can get it to pick up that witch's magic signature, we might be able to follow him back to his home."

"Sounds like we're going to need bait, then." Jem appraised Kyle. "We know they know Kyle's a hunter, so he's likely going to be a target. Not sure yet if they've figured out who the rest of us are. We try not to hang around together in town if we can help it."

It was like painting a target on their backs. If it weren't for Rolf up front, they would have a hell of a time even meeting up in town. They all had abilities and tools for tracking supers but it was the first time Jem saw something like Ken's fancy crystal.

"Now that'll come in handy," he said. "What does it look like when magic's around?"

At the moment, it was cloudy, which he assumed meant a whole lot of nothing. Made sense. As far as Jem knew, none of them were casting any spells and none of them had any spells on them. There were various ways to tell--marks, for one thing. Magic tended to leave a mark on its target. There were also items on a person that might hold the spell, some little bag of shit or whatever.

The crystal, though, it looked like a good way of detecting the magic before it had a chance to take hold.

"It forms an arrow that points to where the witch is. I have to calibrate it to the witch's signature first, which is why that area can't be saturated with magic." But by the sounds of it, that wouldn't be an issue. Ken tucked the sphere away with his mind somewhat more at ease now that they had formed a plan of attack. He wasn't above using the witch's loved ones to get to him or her.

Given half the chance, those supers would do the same to them. Eye for an eye, as they say. There was something in the bible about turning the other cheek, but Ken didn't think that applied to demons and devils when half the old testament was ranting and railing against the evils of Beelzebub. 

"Is there a place in town I can stay? I made up some story about visiting a cousin here on the way in, on the bus. They won't suspect me."

"Good."

Jem liked that they had something so useful on their side. He knew calling in somebody from the old homestead would have its uses. He called on Paddy, too, but he was currently on another job with his family. When they were done, though, he promised to come swing by. He was intrigued by the idea of supers hunting hunters--they hadn't seen it back home. Jem thought it was interesting, too, until their numbers started dwindling one by one.

For now, they'd wait it out until Kyle was targeted again. Satisfied that they had a plan as well, he leaned back and looked at the others, trying to decide whom was safest for Ken to stay with. Who would look like a cousin? A couple of them could do the trick, coming from about the same place, same accent. But it was also dangerous, attaching the new guy in town to any of them when they weren't yet sure which of them had been found out.

"Actually," Jem said, struck with an idea as he sat up again. "Why not our old friend Niall?"

Kyle let out a snort and one of the others laughed but Jem put up a hand.

"It's not a joke, idiots. We don't know how much these supers know about any of us. For all we know, we could all have targets on our back. No point in painting one on Ken's back, too. Niall's useless but there's real history there. And Niall's not a hunter."

"You can say that again," Sean said.

"Exactly. He's not a hunter." Jem reached out and patted Ken on the shoulder regretfully. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, mate, but it's temporary. You're going to meet him later anyway, right? He's a pushover. Just tell him what's what and you're staying and what's he going to do about it?"

Are you fucking me?

Ken couldn't believe his ears. Jem wanted him to stay with Niall? After that display back there, he wanted Ken to march right up and tell Niall that he was being forced into having a roommate? Much less one who used to be his lover?

If he didn't think that God was humorless, he would have thought that this was a cosmic joke on all of them. His expression must have given him away, because Jem patted his shoulder consolingly and spoke some bullshit about taking one for the team. That was what it amounted to--taking it for the team. And Ken was more than happy to do that, but he didn't want or need Jem pitying him for having to associate with a queer. He had experienced enough of that homophobia and it was distasteful.

Slowly, Ken rose and hefted his bag over one shoulder. "I'll ask him. If he refuses, I'll take a room at the hotel in town."

He wasn't commanding Niall to clear a spare room for him and he wasn't strong-arming his way into someone's life. Ken wasn't heavy-handed like that, though he could see that Jem was. One of the others snorted and muttered something to his companion--something that sounded suspiciously like "This guy's a fucking pussy."

Then he faltered at the Look that Ken trained on him.

"I'll be in touch."

The clinic was a few doors down. Ken stood outside and peered in through the glass. The young lad was there alone, swinging his legs as he flicked through a children's book. After a few beats, Ken entered and approached him. "Where's Niall?"

"He's... in there." The lad jerked a thumb in the direction of a closed room, where presumably a doctor was looking at Niall's wrist. Sighing, Ken sat down beside him to wait. He felt the young man's gaze on him, but he didn't look back at him.

"...I think you can save him."

"What?" Ken did look at him now, frowning.

"You can save him," the lad repeated patiently. "He's a lost lamb, but you... you haven't lost your way. You can help him."

"--and then he just grabbed my arm and twisted! I heard it crack and the pain just shot all the way up to my elbow! He was so mean! I just wanted to help the little boy," Niall said tearfully as the doctor tested his arm's movement.

The doctor was an older man of Asian descent with kind dark eyes and a wisp of hair sticking up on his head. He listened to Niall's story calmly and brought his arm back down and then turned it over. After Niall bit back a pitiful whimper, the doctor nodded and gently lowered Niall's arm. Niall immediately held it against his chest and watched the doctor. If he played it up enough, he might even get the good drugs.

"It's definitely broken," the doctor said. "Come with me so we can take some x-rays."

Niall nodded and leapt down off the exam table. The doctor opened the door and Niall followed him, turning to flash Cain a big smile and a thumbs up with his good hand. Then he realized that Cain wasn't alone and he frowned. What? What was he doing here?

"Mr. Gallagher?"

The doctor's voice brought him back and Niall turned back toward him and he scuttled after him to get his x-rays. But of course, now his mind was on what Cain and Ken were talking about out there, the whole time the machine worked and the whole time the doctor showed him the pictures of his broken wrist. It was a clean break, the doctor said, he heard that part. Then it was time to get it all wrapped up.

Even the doctor noticed his silence at this point and asked him if the pain was getting to him, did he feel sick? Niall blinked. Then remembering he was playing it up, he nodded sadly. Once the cast was on and ready, the doctor handed him a prescription and told him not to play any tennis. Niall laughed too hard at that. Hahahaha! The doctor gave him a funny look and then gently took his elbow and brought him out into the waiting room to be checked out. The girl behind the counter smiled at him as he awkwardly signed his paperwork with the wrong hand.

"I'm glad your cousin came to pick you up. I was worried it was just you and the boy and you're in no condition to be driving."

Niall stared at her.

"My... what?"

"Your cousin? That's who he says he is," the girl said, pointing with a pen at Ken. Niall turned to look at him, too. Oh right. His cousin. Of course he was his cousin. Niall rolled his eyes and then smiled quickly at the girl when she looked at him again.

"That's him. My stupid cousin." He pushed the paperwork toward the girl and his smile vanished the second he turned around and started toward Cain and Ken. "Well, let's go, cousin. Chop, chop. I need some rest and relaxation!"

Mid-way through what Ken could only describe as the most disturbing conversation of his life, the receptionist asked him who he was and he gave her his cockamamie story about being Niall's cousin, in town to visit. She took him at his word, presumably because he played up the Irish brogue and--as these Americans were wont to--she assumed that since they sounded the same, they must be related.

He came back to Cain's unnerving stare, as though the lad could see straight through him. Ken couldn't understand how this young boy could speak like that. Like he thought he was some kind of prophet of God, put down here to save souls. Those were his words, too--he was here to save their souls and bring them back to God.

Ken didn't respond much to him but he seemed to have his own line of thinking. Once that was exhausted, they fell into uneasy silence. Ken thought hard about Niall being a 'lost lamb' and... really it was quite true. Niall had lost his way. He gave up hunting, started dressing like a charlatan--as his father would have put it--and he appeared to whole-heartedly resent Ken's presence in Hazleton.

That was made obvious when he came out to the reception area and saw them. Ken stood, and so did Cain, but while Can ran forward to see how he was, Ken stood back. He let Niall sweep by him, gave the girl behind the desk a tight smile, and went out the door with them. Outside, he touched Niall's elbow lightly to gain his attention--not necessary, but... he wanted to.

"Is it broken?"

"Hey, hey, relax kiddo, I'm going to be just fine, the doctor says so and he even gave me all kinds of pretty little pills to make the pain go away~!" he told Cain when he came rushing over to check on him. Poor little kid. Really, Niall felt a rush of affection for the kid despite having known him for all of an hour or so. He wasn't exactly like Lor. Definitely didn't look like him and Lor definitely didn't talk so much about god but he was around that age when Lor died and he couldn't help seeing Lor in him.

Plus, it wasn't just anybody that Niall would have stood up for. He was mostly a coward. He didn't even want to live his own life, choosing instead to let monsters have their way with him or the prystal to put an artificial smile on his face. But that didn't mean he wanted creeps beating up on kids. Which... it turned out they weren't doing but still. Freaking Jem. Ugh. Just remembering his stupid face brought a sour expression to his face.

A hand on his elbow brought him back to the present. It wasn't Cain this time. Ken's words sounded concerned but there was almost a robotic intonation to his voice, like he'd practiced leeching out every emotion in his voice. It was surprising; the Ken that Niall knew was certainly not like that. Sure, he wasn't always true to himself in public but he hadn't been emotionless. Now it seemed like he was guarding himself from giving away any thoughts he might have. Niall, realizing he'd been studying him for a long moment instead of answering, looked down at his new cast.

"Yep. I get to wear this fancy bracelet for two months, courtesy of your best friend, Jem. He likes to go hard, doesn't he? Guess not much has changed."

What went on in that head of his? What was the staring for? Ken bore up to his scrutiny but even he felt the prickle of heat in the back of his neck when the silence stretched on for far too long. Cain was quiet, holding on to Niall—a little shepherd guarding his lost lamb.

Once Niall did speak, it was all sarcasm and dry remarks. Ken frowned. "Jem's not my best friend." Never was, never would be. He was a colleague, a hunter with similar goals towards eliminating the supernatural threat. Beyond that, he was a closed-minded homophobe.

Slowly, Ken's hand slid over Niall's elbow and onto his forearm. His voice softened and he suddenly had a hard time looking at him. "...you were."

"Right," he said with a derisive laugh. Ken and Jem weren't best pals. They weren't butt buddies. Personally, Niall thought Jem doth protest too much--he was probably the most homo that ever homoed because he was downright foot stampy about how NOT GAY he was. Whoooo! Hands in the air. They had a bad ass over here, watch out, he wasn't HOMO.

The sarcasm in his race car of a mind came reeling to a screeching halt as Ken's hand moved upward and not away from the slimy homo. Weird. Not expected. Niall fully expected Ken to act just like Jem with the macho straightness. The emotion was back, no more robot. Niall almost didn't even make out what Ken said and when he did, he blinked in pure and honest shock. What? What did he just say? His brow furrowed together for a moment.

"Excuse me?"

They were best friends, that was true. He didn't know if they ever said as much but it kinda went without saying, at least from Niall's end. Since he was the lost black sheep of the family, he was generally not to be bothered with. Not that everybody was as rude as Jem and Paddy but they also weren't friendly, either. He remembered a few regretful smiles from kids who had been told not to play with him that might have otherwise. Ken had friends, though. Niall wasn't the only one. Still...

He lifted a hand to his ear.

"Say again?"

"He said you were his best friend," Cain supplied quietly by Niall's side.

Ken looked down at him and smiled softly. What a strange little old young man, with his wise eyes and his fascination with God and saving people. Cain was looking up at him too, with a mixture of understanding and pride. It was... odd. Very odd.

But if he stared at Cain, he couldn't stare at Niall. His hand was still on Niall's arm, he was painfully aware of this fact. Ken wasn't fidgety, so he didn't clear his throat or cough or make some inane remark to offset his sudden declaration. It was the truth. Ken had never felt as close to anyone as he did to Niall, then and now—especially now, when he kept himself to himself and went about his work like a machine.

"I actually heard him," Niall said to Cain. "I just wanted to hear him say it again."

It didn't look like that was happening, though. Niall didn't know what to make of Ken's arrival here or why he came to the clinic or cared that his wrist was broken or why he was still touching him. Because he was--still touching him, that is. He hadn't moved his hand away and Niall couldn't tell if he was broken or if he didn't know what else to do with the hand or if he was waiting for something from Niall.

It didn't seem like it; he was staring awfully hard at Cain and Cain was staring at him back and they were like... Niall didn't know. Maybe they were communicating through brain waves or their eyes or something that Niall couldn't see without his special eyes. Which was kind of a lie, anyway because Niall did have special eyes. His father actually slapped him when he saw it, Niall had no idea why. "Don't ever do that again!"

Niall didn't even know what he'd done until Daniel told him. It wasn't something he controlled, though, so if there was anything they were seeing that he couldn't see, he couldn't force himself to see it.

Best friends, huh. Ken said were, but that made sense. How many years had it been now? Niall wasn't good at holding grudges so he sighed and sort of deflated any resentment that might have been shielding him. He slid his arm around both Ken's and Cain's shoulders, slotting himself right between them.

"I don't know about you guys but I could use a drink!" He eyed Cain. "How old are you again?"

"Oh, sorry." Looking chastised, Cain ducked his head and appeared embarrassed, which was more emotion than Ken had seen on his face to date. Quiet lad. Very withdrawn, but not sullen. Not unfriendly. It was like he was so sheltered that he didn't know what to do or say or how to act. Like he was waiting for someone to come along and tell him to smile, or not smile, or to say this or that.

Ken was a little leery of spilling his private thoughts in front of such an innocent child, however. He knew he had a lot to answer for, and that Niall's hostility wasn't unfounded. He thought about their affair once in a while, with mingled fondness and regret. But they were children, too, back then, with the weight of the world on their shoulders, and mistakes were apt to be made. Even as an adult, Ken made mistakes. Only now, he could make up for them and apologize where apologies were owed.

To his surprise, Niall's attitude changed on a dime. Suddenly he was between them, arms around their shoulders. Was that advisable, with his wrist in a makeshift cast? What prompted this about-face? Niall was moving too quickly, Ken found, but it was better than bitter words and sarcasm, he supposed. Ken frowned at the wrist in the meantime, but Cain sounded worried when he spoke.

"I don't think... Izzy wouldn't want me to..."

"How old are you, lad?" Ken asked, curious himself.

"...sixteen..."

He looked at Niall with raised brows. "He's having a glass of soda."

Oh, the wrist was fine. The cast, it was doing its job by keeping his wrist nice and straight, so he wasn't too worried about it. Besides, it was just the wrist (which still hurt like a raging bitch, by the way) and he could safely move his elbows around just fine. He could tell Ken didn't approve of him moving it around willy-nilly by that frown at it but he was fiiiinnne, really he was fine. He just played it up for the doctors so he could get the good drugs. Which... by the way. He reached into his back pocket and handed the orange bottle over to Cain--not really trusting Ken to do it.

"Hey, be a friend and open this for me, will you? It's going to make me feel better."

He paused while he waited, eyes on that pill bottle with eager anticipation.

"By the way, who's Izzy? ALSO, come on, Ken." He swung his gaze toward Ken with a dramatic pout. "Let the kid live a little."

Then it was back to looking at Cain. Such an innocent lad. Niall smiled at him, lifting his hand slightly to ruffle his blond hair a little, lucky his bad wrist was on Ken's side.

"I was around your age when I tried alcohol the first time. Actually, no, I wasn't. I was thirteen. But you know what, in Ireland, you're just a weeeeee coupla years away from the legal drinking age. And I bet you won't try absinthe your first time 'cause I won't let you 'cause that's what I tried and I was soooooo drunk. Oh, Lordy, I was drunk as a skunk. Though I've heard the absinthe here in the states is nothin' compared to what we've got in the UK. What do you want to try? My personal favorite is rum punch but I'll drink pretty much anything straight out the bottle."

He swung his attention back to Ken.

"What about you? Absinthe?" He leaned in, voice low and husky. "We really danced with the fairy that night, didn't we?"

Ken would have read the dosage instructions twice over, and then given Niall only half the dose. Yes, he was that kind of person. The cautious kind, the one who believed in prudence and taking things slow, so as to minimize risk. That was how he managed to survive all these years as a hunter--it made him a good hunter, too.

Out here on the streets, maybe that wasn't such a necessary character trait. Still, he frowned at the bottle as he watched Cain measuring out two tablets and handing them to Niall. Niall who was urging a young, innocent lad to drink liquor and taking him down the path of unbridled alcoholism by glorifying its effects and recounting his own experiences with it.

All right, all right, not so dramatic as all that. But it didn't sit right with him that Niall was telling a sixteen year-old to drink.

"Izzy's my brother." Cain looked doubtful. He looked up at Ken as though Ken might give him permission to drink, in the place of his brother Izzy, and Ken just shook his head sternly. While he and Niall had experimented with alcohol--and drugs, yes--back in their youth, he didn't want that for Cain. He wouldn't want that for his own younger brother either, if he'd had one.

But. Hm. Absinthe. Ken didn't like what that voice was doing near his ear, either--not out here in the streets, at any rate. "We did more than dance," he muttered to Niall in a voice so low that he wondered if Niall could hear it. Why? God only knew. Because Niall had that effect on people when he smiled in their direction and slipped his arm around them and pulled them in. Ken had no defense against that and he thought that it was a dirty trick altogether.

"What?" Cain's curiosity seemed to get the better of him. "What fairy? Was it an Unclean?"

Ken cleared his throat and shot Niall a Look. "No lad. It's... a figure of speech. Never you mind. You'll have a soda, and then we're taking you home to your brother."

"No, no." He curled his hand around the two pills given to him and then grasped the now opened bottle with his fingers. Peering inside, he saw a nice, good number of pills. They wouldn't last him that long but long enough for the next big fix. Fingering two more pills out, he stuck all four into his mouth at once. Water sure would've been helpful right now. He glanced around and as they passed a girl with a water bottle, he reached over Cain and took it.

"Sorry," he said through a cheek full of painkillers. He gave her his most sad, pitiful puppy stare. "I need it more than you do. My wrist, it's killing me."

The girl gave him the stink eye but continued on her little jog while Niall stopped to down the pills with several swallows of water.

"AHHHHHHHH!" He handed the pill bottle back to Cain so he could twist the cap back on for him. "I'm feeling better already."

Then it registered that Izzy was the brother. Ah, the older brother, then? Cain seemed so small and mousy, he had to be the youngest. He was so smol and tiny and needed protection. Niall whispered the word brother to himself. Brothers were nice things to have, really. Sometimes. Cain seemed fond of his, although it sounded like Mr. Izzy was a stick in the mud. No, no, he wasn't. Would Niall have snuck off to have a drink with Lorcan? Probably not. Because he still wanted to protect innocence. Mr. Izzy might, too.

"Yeah," he said, his voice and his gaze far, far away, in the middle of the forests of Ireland, on a hill in the moonlight with a big ass bottle of absinthe and a grandiose sense of adventure. "You try first. No wait, I'll try first!" That bottle was so gone by the end of the night and so were their inhibitions. How did they even get into the lake without drowning? Their words slurred together and half of what was spoken was indeterminable. But the touches weren't. The kisses weren't. It was the first time he kissed a boy for real, that wasn't just some stolen peck behind church.

"I know."

He was still somewhere in magical Ireland with the green fairy when Cain spoke. Niall squeezed the now empty bottle of water flat and tried to toss it into the next closest bin. It missed by a mile.

"What about something light, though? Don't religious kids drink wine?"

"The sacramental wine! I had it once... It tasted nice. Like grape juice." Cain's smile was pure innocence and Ken wanted to pat his head and ruffle his hair. And tell him--still, no. Soda, then straight home. Maybe a prayer before bed, too, to erase the terrible ideas that Niall was instilling into his guileless young mind.

Although, the ideas running across his mind weren't so pure either. He remembered that night clearly, as he remembered all of their other nights together. He still had no idea where Niall got that bottle, but he suspected that it had come with the ten-finger discount. They had downed half the bottle before they realized that they were drunk, and then it was too late to do anything about it. Thinking back on it now, they could have drowned!

More heady than the absinthe, though, was Niall. Ken remembered the touches and the kisses, too. The fumbling, the drunken giggling, hands going where hands had never dared to go before. He let Niall lead the kisses because he was inexperienced and, even then, afraid. When he hit the ice-cold water, he came back to his senses a little, but even that wasn't enough to stop him.

Niall had that way about him. Some days, Ken wondered if he wasn't some sort of incubus himself, the way that he stole all of Ken's attention. He could have sat and read the bible from cover to cover, and Ken would have watched him with bated breath, awaiting each blink of the lashes and every turn of the page.

Ah. But now wasn't the time nor the place for reminiscing. "Soda," he said, realizing that his response was belated. "Soda. Then straight home. And you." He turned to Niall with a Stern Look. "You'll not give the lad ideas." If someone was trying to do this to Lorcan, the Niall that he used to know would have had none of it.

"And we're going to have a chat about those pills later, too," he added in the same low undertone, as he deftly took command of the bottle and put it away in his pocket.

Personally, Niall didn't count that blood of christ wine stuff as his first alcoholic drink. One, it was wine. That did nothing for Niall. Also, their church served the cheapest and weakest kind ever. Oh, and they only got one sip out of the special cup. What was it called again? Cradle? No... Manger? That was the thing baby Jesus was born in. Oh, right! The grail. Or was that something else? Never mind, whatever they called it, it was weak wine and a sip wasn't enough to make a person even TIPSY, let alone dead drunk.

The absinthe, though... Wow. Niall didn't touch it for years after. He and Ken were sick as dogs afterward and everybody just thought they caught some flu going around the town at the time. God, it was fun at the time, though. When they were drinking. They were so tipsy and giggly and even though they were definitely doing something naughty, they were so... innocent.

"OKAAAY," Niall said with an overdramatic sigh and a roll of the eyes. "SODA, then."

But that didn't stop him from turning to Cain and winking at him. Soda with a tiny bit of whatever Niall was having. Why not? It wouldn't get the boy drunk and he could have a taste of the big boy drinks. Why was Ken being such a stick in the mud, anyway? They were younger than Cain when they got drunk. Niall wondered if Lorcan ever got drunk. If he did, then Niall didn't know about it because he wasn't a part of it. That struck him as sad and maybe that was why he wanted Cain to have a chance at it. Lorcan, did he ever get a chance to even get tipsy? Drunk? Did he ever get to fall in love? If Lorcan told him everything--and it seemed like he did--then... no. No. Lorcan never got to really live.

Because he was too busy having to learn how to be a good little soldier for old Pop. And Lorcan was shy, painfully shy. He hated ruffling feathers. He did what he was told but he loved Niall, following him like a little lost duckling. They were five years apart and Niall could swear he remembered the day Lorcan was born. So tiny. The way he held onto his finger made him feel big and important in a way he never felt before.

He cried so hard when he died. He didn't think he would ever stop. After the funeral, when Lorcan was covered in dirt and grass, Niall came back and he wanted to bury himself alive just to be there with him. Did he feel all alone? The pain tore through him like a physical talon pouring everything inside of him out into the world. Ken found him there, just... lying there on that grave like he could just... osmosis his way inside and never come back. The last time he saw Lorcan's face, it was waxy and serene and fake. And before that, it was glass-eyed and horrified. His family blamed him but nobody blamed him more than Niall himself. Nobody hated Niall more than Niall did.

"Ahh!" he gasped when he saw the pill bottle exchange hands from the reliable one to the one that would probably deny him even one if he begged on his knees for it. Niall tried to grab for it but it was a less than graceful movement in the cast and on top of that, it made his wrist hurt. He said he felt better already when he downed the pills but honestly, it would take another fifteen or so minutes before they actually kicked in.

"You can't do this to me! They were prescribed to me for a very real injury!" He thrust his arm up so that his wrist was in Ken's face. "It really hurts!" He leaned against him oh-so-pathetically, knocking the wrist ineffectually against Ken's chest. Despite the dramatics of his actions, his softened tone revealed naked vulnerability. "...it hurts, Ken."

Niall could grouse and grouch and complain all he liked, Ken was holding fast to his principles. He didn't mind if he was called cruel and no-fun and a downer, as the kids said these days. He knew that what he did was the Right Thing--capitals included. Besides, four pills was far too much for anyone.

Still, his expression softened with Niall's voice and he gently touched the hand that rested against his chest, painfully aware of the cast and the injured wrist underneath. His fingers curled around Niall's briefly but he didn't dare apply too much pressure, for fear of tweaking the wrist, too.

"I'll say a prayer to God for you! To take away the pain!" Cain piped up suddenly, looking resolute and sure of himself.

Ken smiled. "Aye. And I will too." He glanced out of the corner of his eyes at Niall and the smile persisted. "That's two prayers, all for you."

"I told you I don't even believe in god!" Niall protested in exasperation. The kid was determined to save his soul, wasn't he? He was like one of those annoying Jehovah's Witnesses except he seemed a lot more genuine. Or maybe brainwashed. He was still young enough to believe in magic sky-daddies, poor thing. Niall wondered if god ever did anything for the kid, if there was some kind of miracle that kept him believing. Or if it was his family. The brother was being gifted a cross, so... probably. They were probably just like the Gallaghers.

Hey. Even hunters? The kid was in with Jem and his hunters, he was familiar with them! Huh. Small world.

Niall looked over at Ken to protest to him, too, the finger of the hand over Cain's shoulder pointing in his direction. But gee golly, he forgot how handsome Ken could be when he smiled. And now he was like... ten times more handsome. He looked so good. Clean, professional. He probably thought Niall looked like a stinking hobo straight off the streets. Suddenly, his hastily pulled together wardrobe felt like it wasn't enough. And the kohl was probably smudged to hell and back.

He pressed forward.

"Drinks, drinks, drinks. Drinks are my prayers." He led them straight to one of his favorite brewhouses--okay, ONLY brewhouse--on the main strip of the area. They were the kind of place everyone in town went to for dinner but there was a bar in the back for the rowdy old drunks.

As they approached the door, he let go of the two of them and pulled the twin doors open dramatically.

"I've arrived~!" he sang before hop-skipping toward the bar and placing his hands on the counter--one noticeably more gingerly than the other. "My friends and I would like your rum punch! I have to show it to my..."

He looked over his shoulder at Ken with a curve of a half smile.

"... dear cousin from out of town!" He turned back to the bartender. "All he knows is that swill we make in the ole' motherland and you know how shite that is."

"You don't have to," Ken and Cain said at nearly the same time, then smiled at each other. Prayers worked whether or not the one on the receiving end of those well-wishes believed in them. That was how faith worked, in Ken's opinion--the believers and non-believers had equal rights to forgiveness.

Despite the faith that tore his family apart--not to mention himself and Niall--Ken still believed. He believed in Good. He believed in doing good, too, and he accepted that while his sexuality put him at odds with certain teachings in the Bible, that it wasn't his father's or Jem's or anyone's place to judge him. Only God had that right and until the day that Ken met Him, he would do as he saw fit.

But that took the better part of ten years to figure out, and Ken still hadn't worked all of it out. He was still learning things about himself, but that was probably better than stagnating. It was better than hating, the way that Jem seemed to hate. Personally, Ken thought that there was much more to life than one set of rigid world views.

He sighed at Niall's chant and he sighed when Niall rushed over to the bar like salvation was just a pint away. "Ah now, don't push it," he said in exasperation as he slid into the bar stool beside Niall, while Cain hopped onto the one on his other side. "The lad will have a soda," he said immediately to the bartender, who grunted and turned to prepare their drinks.

Ken looked around first, to make sure that no obvious supernaturals were in the vicinity. Once he was satisfied that they were in no immediate danger, he relaxed and turned back to Niall. "I need a favor, Niall. I'll be in town for about a month, and Jem suggested that I... live with you while I'm here."

Owwie. Opening those doors with his usual Niall flourish hurt his wrist. Stupid Jem. He looked down at the offending wrist, willing the pills to begin their beautiful magic. Also--was Cain a little Ken? Because that was what it was starting to feel like. Maybe that was the real reason Niall was drawn to protect him. Hah! But that was... weird and creepy. They did both have that nice blond hair, though. Maybe he was protecting the past when he protected Cain. He still felt like a moron for standing up to somebody that wasn't even there to do anything to Cain. Really, he was upset with himself because it was his own fault his wrist was broken and he didn't want to admit it.

"Rum punch, rum punch, rum punch," he chanted happily as he bounced in his stool. Oh yeah, the meds were starting to trickle into his system now. He could feel it, that little tingle in the back of his head, that euphoric feeling of nothing being wrong. Plus, the rum punch was coming and oh, he loved it so. He had a sweet tooth but the rum part packed the punch he wanted so badly after running into the Past in its many forms. Like a kid, Jem, Ken. Gee, it was like being back at the ol' homestead again!

He rested his chin in his hand and watched the bartender make their drinks with stars in his eyes. Favors, huh? He side-eyed Ken. If the pills weren't working their way through his system and he wasn't sitting at a bar anticipating some alcohol, he might have been insulted. Ken only wanted to chat with him because Jem told him to stay with him? Ugh. He should have known things were too good to be true. But the ugh didn't last that long. He slid his arms over the counter in front of him, chin plopping on the counter.

He made weak grabby hands for the drinks that were taking too long. He didn't want to think about Ken using him. It hurt his heart too much and he didn't know how to deal with it anymore.

"Oh alriiiiiight," he said. "You can share my humble hovel with me. But you're not allowed to mom me." He kicked his legs out and met the lower half of the bar with a squeak of his sneakers. "I am an adult," he informed Ken quite Seriously. "Deal?"

Ken failed to mention that he could just as easily room at a hotel because he assumed that Niall would say no if he didn't like the idea. Niall wasn't shy about voicing his opinions, that was blatantly obvious. But part of him wanted to reconnect and thought that if he didn't offer up the option... then maybe it wouldn't be taken up. For a few seconds, he thought that Niall was going to refuse and his own heart sank.

What? Yes? After that look--the kind of look that reminded Ken of a broken puppy? He took his time in responding, somewhat unsure now. Was Niall only saying yes because he felt obligated to? He wasn't--Ken didn't have to live with him. He didn't want to use Niall in the first place, but having established himself as Niall's cousin, it made sense to live together.

"..no," he said at last. "No deal." Ken turned to accept his rum punch and took a sip. Yes, he struck up the deal and brought forth the idea, but... no. He was not going to 'let things slide' and he wasn't turning a blind eye to Niall's problem behaviors. Like the pills. And the drinking.

"...but you asked him first," Cain said, puzzled, with the fizzy drink in his hands.

"Hush lad."

No?

Niall blinked owlishly in surprise. But... Ken was the one that asked him! He slid back as his drink arrived and he eagerly pulled it close. Even the smell of it made him happier. Ignoring what had just happened for one moment, he drained half the pint in a few seconds. Ahhhhh, that's what he needed on top of the pills. Actually, he wasn't supposed to mix alcohol and pills but shhhh. If Ken didn't realize that, Niall was not going to be the one to tell him.

"Uh, yeah," Niall said, now definitely insulted as he righted himself and looked Ken in the eyes. "You asked. What, you can't handle me being an adult?"

He paid for that ugly hovel! With what, Ken didn't want to know. And you know, adults had the right to leave the house at weird hours and come back at weird hours. And drink. And take drugs. And go see vampires. And succubi. Or incubi. Whichever. Niall wasn't picky. Whatever would have him. Niall was being charitable, letting Ken stay with him and Ken was spitting in his eye. Jerk. Meanie. Whatever. Niall turned away and finished off the pint, smacked the counter, and cried out, "Another, sir!"

This was better, anyway. Ken didn't need to see the way Niall really lived.

"I can handle you being an adult." Ken swirled the drink; it wasn't half bad, but he preferred the 'shite' from back home more, he had to admit. But if Niall thought that this... this kind of excess was adulting, then he had his definitions all mixed up.

"I want to stay with you," he explained, all the while trying to choose words suitable for the ears of an innocent young lad. "But I won't let you adult yourself into an early grave."

Something wasn't right here and Ken didn't have to be an observant hunter to notice it. Niall wasn't Niall. The time that they had been apart had warped him and changed him into someone that Ken barely recognized and he didn't like it. Not one bit.

Slowly, he turned to Niall. Laid a pleading hand on his knee, the most delicate of touches. His eyes were sincere, and his tone, though low, was no less so. "Even if I stay at a hotel... it's still no deal." No deal to letting Niall destroy himself with painkillers and blasphemy.

Oh, could he now? Because it seemed like the opposite to Niall! Ken couldn't handle him no longer being a teenager that had to answer to family. ...which was never the case, anyway. Niall listened to them insofar as he had to but behind their backs, he was out there doing what he really wanted to, like getting drunk on absinthe with his best friend and hanging upside down from trees and leaping in ball form into the cold lake only to come spluttering up and screaming that it was f-f-f-freezing! and his balls were going to come right off!

That wasn't it, though. Ken wanted to stay, or so he said but he wasn't going to make that deal with Niall. He was going to be mom, whether he was in a hotel or in Niall's hovel--excuse me, flat. Apartment. Whatever. That meant no pills. That meant lecturing him on too many drinks--oh look, the second pint had arrived. Niall drank it like it was water--gulp, gulp, gulp. He could already feel the rum getting to him. Or maybe it was the pills.

"Nother!" he called out, delicately placing a wrist against his lips as he suppressed a burp. Oh, he was getting so scuttered today. No getting around it. All of this--the kid reminding him of Lorcan, Jem showing up and breaking his wrist, and Ken. Just. Ken. He couldn't deal with it sober.

"Yeah, well," he said with a smirky smirk, "to do that, you'd have to know where I live and I for one, am not telling you where that is now. How about that?" He tilted his head, then glanced downward. "Is that your hand on my leg?"

"You don't have to. I'll find out on my own." Ken didn't smirk--he wasn't the kind--but he smiled. That smile that Niall had to remember, the one which confidently set forth the fact that Ken was the immovable brick wall and Niall could protest all he liked, but words couldn't bring down that wall.

He, too, looked down at his hand. Once, he would have pulled it away like it burned. Now, it remained on Niall's knee. In fact, it slid up a little--not to indecent heights, but enough to bring home the message.

"Yes." Two sips in, Ken wasn't anywhere near sloshed. "It is."

Niall was very quickly heading straight into the gutters. He could feel it, the warm embrace of alcohol and drugs. It was like a warm little hug around his race car brain, encasing it and cradling it and telling him everything was going to be okay. Normally, a third rum punch wouldn't pack so much of a, well, punch, but with the combination of too many pills taken at once, it was a heady mixture. His head was already starting to spin as he brought that third drink to his lips like a thirsty man in the desert.

He was trying to ignore the fact that Ken was so composed, with his hand directly on Niall's leg and inching higher. It didn't keep inching. It did stop and it wasn't anywhere near his upper thigh or anything. But it was there and it felt a lot more like a lover's caress than a grandpa telling him to buck up, junior.

It bugged him a little that Ken was confident in figuring out where he lived but realistically, it wasn't that hard to ask anybody in town where the town junkie stayed. Hell, the bartender knew. Everybody that knew him knew where he lived--some dive off Center street, downtown in one of the "historic" buildings that used to be a Sears department store but had been converted into cheap flats--apartments. The apartments were really just low income housing for people like him, though. They were two room affairs--a main room and a bathroom. Niall had various roommates over time. They shared his couch bed with him and they soon found out three things about Niall's sleeping habits: 1. he tended to cling to his sleeping partner, 2. he invariably ended up in a state of undress at some point in the night, and 3. he had night terrors. Needless to say, not many roommates stuck around that long.

Mostly because of the last one. The first two were kinda nice if one liked Niall enough, which most did. They came to stay overnight with him, after all.

"Yer doin' my 'ead in," he said, slurring the words together in a thick Irish brogue that made his words pretty much unintelligible. But he still slid his broken wrist over the hand on his leg and turned it over, palm to cast-palm. He was so out of it that he didn't hear the doors open or somebody in heavy boots step into the brewhouse. But he sure did hear him after he came up behind him and something cold and sharp pressed against the side of his throat.

"What are you doing with my brother?"

"You did that to yourself," Ken sighed, as his fingers twitched against Niall's cast. He didn't want to hold it and hurt Niall inadvertently, although the rum punch and those four inadvisable pills seemed to have taken the edge off of... Well, they took the edge off of his edges, Ken supposed.

Before anything more could be said, someone had stormed up and Ken was first on his feet, hand flying to the weapon in his belt. "Don't--" he began, staring down the stranger and intending to have him stop threatening Niall.

"Izzy no!" Cain was on his feet too, nearly upsetting his glass. He ran up and pulled down the hand with the weapon in it. "They're friends!"

"...aye, we're friends." After a tense moment, Ken let his hand fall. He held his palms up to show that he was unarmed--for now. "We were about to bring the lad back home. Just stopped in for a drink."

Isaiah looked everywhere for his little brother when he woke to find him gone. The fact that he wasn't there and hadn't left a note (not one that Isaiah could find, anyway), left him a total and complete panic. Somebody had come for him in the night. Somebody had ripped him away, torn away his innocence, harmed him, used him. Somebody had him and they could be doing anything to him.

Cain wouldn't break, though. Not his Cain. Cain was too strong for that. He'd never let them leave him a sinner. Whatever those monsters did to him, they would find that Cain would go down innocent. Always.

Still, the pictures in his mind spurred him forward with shotgun and hunting knives in hand, ready to mow down anybody that got in his way. If it weren't for Kyle, he never even would have looked in here--in a brewhouse. His brother was in a brewhouse with two older men--one of whom was most definitely a sinner. How could he not be, with that mop of hair and those... those common street clothes? Isaiah wasn't one for fashion--he basically lived in overalls and plaid and work boots--but he sure as heck didn't think highly of a man in women's clothing.

Still, he reluctantly lowered his weapon at Cain's insistence, then cut his gaze to the blond man.

"You stopped in for a drink. With my underage brother?"

Isaiah looked fit to kill and Cain felt so awful and so guilty. He clung to his brother's arm--afraid that he might assault Niall or Ken again--and put his own body in the way, just in case. Isaiah didn't kill without reason but that look in his eyes...

"It was soda!" He pointed to the fizzy orange drink in his glass. "They wouldn't let me have alcohol Izzy! They're--not bad people."

Behind him, he felt someone moving and he looked to see Ken stepping in between them too. It looked like he was trying to shield Niall, which Cain approved of. Niall needed a lot of help.

A LOT of help.

"No harm done," Ken said easily, but Cain knew the look of a fighting man and he saw it in Ken. "Lad's all right."

"I'm okay Izzy! Really!"

His hand went to his throat. That could have been another ouchie. Why did everybody want to hurt him today? It was like he had a kick me sign on his back only instead of kick me, it said abuse me and everybody was happy to do it! Out of sheer lunacy, he reached for his back but there was nothing but that lacy, breezy blouse he'd put on that morning. Nothing tagged on the back of it. Slowly, he turned in his stool as the others talked, hearing somebody say something about how Cain shouldn't have gone out without saying anything and running off with strangers.

"Strangers," Niall drawled, with a flouncy wave of a hand with his pointer finger slightly up. (In his mind, it was all the way up and he was intelligently sitting up with his chin raised and an intelligent tone of voice...) "...are just friends you haven't made... yet."

And this was followed by a slight hiccup. Very masterful. Intelligent indeed.

Ooh. Wow. Cain's brother was actually pretty good looking. Niall turned his attention fully toward him and batted his eyelashes, leaning forward with a giggle as he reached out to run his good hand over his chest, not even caring that he was leaning against Ken to do it.

"You. Are so.... handsome." That last word came out low and husky and the bedroom eyes were out in full force. But if he expected Big Brother Izzy to like that, he was way sorely mistaken. He jolted away from Niall and brushed off his shirt like it had been tainted by his hand.

"I'm sure he's been fine with this pervert," Big Brother Izzy said. He pulled Cain toward him, not roughly or anything but definitely with some sort of... possession in his eyes. "Stay away from creeps like this, Cain. I've told you a thousand times, you don't know what's out here."

Slowly, deliberately, Ken pushed Niall's hand down. All the way down. So low down that he bent slightly at the waist to do it. No. Drunk or not, no. That was another no deal, thank you kindly, though who exactly set the terms of this new deal was up in the air.

But—no.

"He's just... tipsy," Cain whispered to his brother, after what seemed to Ken like a heart-felt apology for running off at the crack of dawn. He caught that much, and something about a message from "you know who." Ken had no interest in their private affairs; he barely knew them and even though Cain seemed innocent enough, he wasn't Ken's little brother.

Big brother Izzy seemed to be taking care of him just fine, although Ken had a suspicion that he wouldn't be sleeping soundly for a few nights. Best keep one eye open, if his precious kin was going to run off in the night. All manner of perverse creatures roamed these streets, and Ken didn't want to see someone like Cain run into one of them.

"You'd best take the lad home," he said as he caught a little smile from Cain. For what? Cain didn't appear to enjoy Niall pawing at his brother, but—had any of them, other than Niall? Whatever he felt about that, though, was now gone. He gave a little wave.

"C'mon Izzy. I got something for you from the art fair."

His hand was lowered and he let it be lowered, although he stared after the Brother with a look of longing. So handsome. Or he could be an ogre and the drinks were drowning him in good-looking juice. Alcohol. God-sent, if there was such a thing as a god. If there was, though, Ken wouldn't be lowering his hand. Niall made a small noise in the back of his throat, both mournful and frustrated and then flopped against Ken in his ever-despair.

"That's exactly what I'm doing," said Brother Izzy as he protectively shielded his little brother from any more of the nasty hobo's antics. Niall made a face at him. Handsome or not, he wasn't worth getting too weird about. Handsome guys were a dime a dozen around here. And even when there weren't, handsome guys appeared in town out of nowhere. Like this one. The one he leaned against and then sighed against and then lowered his head and sort of just hung out there.

He waved lazily at the two as they made their retreat.

"See ya laterrrr, laddie, come back when you're old enough to drink!"

That probably earned him a glare but little brother was around and big brother seemed to really like little brother so nothing came of the glare.

"It's like me and Lorcan all over again," he sighed. Then he flopped himself back off Ken and stumbled onto his stool, nearly toppling over it in the process before catching himself on the counter. He threw both elbows onto it, crossed his legs and stared at Ken.

"I normally flirt with guys that look like you," he said, giving Ken a little whirly point with the good hand. He gave his leg a few shakes and tilted his head to the side. "But now... now I dunno what to do with yooou." Another little hiccup. He threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut. "Why are you even here?"

Ken didn't appreciate being used as a prop by a drunk, but he made exceptions for Niall. He made a lot of exceptions for Niall. Maybe one too many today, allowing him to take four pills, have three drinks and try to flirt with a man who clearly wanted him nowhere near himself or his little brother.

He watched Cain and his brother until they were gone out of the bar, and out the door. Cain seemed much more talkative; Ken saw his lips moving rapidly, probably recounting what happened to him. Maybe telling his brother about the shameful display of hand on knee that happened shortly before Izzy showed up.

Once the warmth left his back, Ken turned. He held out a hand to steady Niall but Niall managed that himself, so Ken resumed his seat and also his drink. For once, he felt like he needed it and took a long pull, especially once Lorcan was brought up. Ten years on, and Ken still didn't know what to say to a thing like that.

"Hm." Guys who looked like him? That seemed significant given that Ken hadn't changed too much in the time that they had been apart. Same white-blond hair, same serious eyes. A bit taller now, though, and a little more filled out, but he couldn't seem to put on the sheer muscle mass that other hunters could. He wasn't lanky and awkward anymore, though. More like athletic, slim and fast.

And maybe he wasn't the only one stuck in the past. Ken wasn't the type to love them and leave them. His feelings were real and they were serious. Although he'd had a handful of lovers since Niall vanished from his life, he couldn't quite seem to forget him altogether. If Niall was seeking out men who looked like him then perhaps... Just perhaps...

Or maybe he meant handsome in general. Or he was drunk as a skunk and talking nonsense. That could very likely be it too.

"According to the lad... I'm here to save your soul." His lips twisted into a little smile. "Hand it over, so I can clean it."

One eye half opened to peer at Ken, then the other cracked open, too. Why. Was. He. Here. That was the biigggg QUESTION. Why was Ken in a little nowhere town all the way from the home of the hunter squad? Or was the whole squad here, was that the thing? Were they all having a swing at the mysticals that drifted around these parts? Ireland had a fair bit o' them; it made a great spot for hunting. But now this tiny, little nothing town was being absolutely bombarded with creatures.

Actually, it was a bit of a nest for them. Since Niall was no longer a hunter, he didn't care. He liked it. Maybe it even attracted him here, made him stay here, knowing a place for longer than a couple of weeks, knowing people, knowing where to score the good stuff, where to get the cheap drinks, and where to lose himself in happy... happy... happy.

The thought of having his soul scrubbed clean. Being saved. He let out a throaty laugh and leaned his head slightly back up, regarding Ken and his surprisingly devil-may-care smile. For somebody that could have been sent from heaven above, Ken could be a right demon sometimes.

"Oh, but it's a very filthy soul," Niall said in that same husky tone he used earlier. It was the kind of tone he used when he was about to pounce on somebody or when somebody was crawling over him and his arms were winding around the back of their neck to draw them closer. And then he sprang up to a sitting position, both hands on the seat of his stool as he swung his legs under the barstool. He swayed slightly, head swimming, but he smiled, serene as a newborn in his mother's arms.

"It's alright, though, Kenny. There's no more pressure when you're stained like me. Nobody expects anything from this weirdo!" He laughed, genuinely joyful that nobody wanted him to do anything anymore. No more training, no more killing, no more obedience. Just... Niall being Niall.

"And that leaves me free to do... whatever... I... want." He stood on wobbly feet, swaying back and forth in a blissful dance. "I can dance and I can siiiing~! I can be a god-damned Disney princess. Look what I'm wearing!" He shrugged the shoulders off his blouse and let it float gracefully to the floor before he clumsily kicked it aside. "And I," he said, leaning forward, close, so close to Ken that their noses just grazed each other. "Can kiss boys if I like."

Niall's eyes lit up. But he backed away at the last moment, hands behind his back like an impish child.

"Don't you see? I don't want to be saved. I don't need to be saved." 

While Niall seeemed to be under the thrall of some inner demon that spurred him on to frantic action, shifting constantly in his seat as though he wanted to crawl right out of his own skin, Ken sat still. He sat primly and with good posture, drink in hand, looking as calm as the day that he was born.

For as long as he could remember, Ken was 'the good child.' Perhaps if he'd been more of a rebel, if he hadn't subscribed whole-heartedly to his parents' rules and way of life, then letting them down by being homosexual wouldn't have ended the way it did. It wasn't in him, though. In that respect he was like Lorcan—he wasn't timid or shy, but he was quiet and obedient.

Meeting Niall for the first time was a real eye-opener for Ken. They moved into Niall's town so as to better access hunter resources, as Niall's family was an old legacy hunting family and a group had formed around them. Ken remembered being introduced to all the boys, but Niall being the only one who smiled—beamed—at him in that good-natured way of his. It was instant connection. Back then, he was too young to fall in love, but he felt something different towards Niall than he did towards Lorcan or Daniel.

Their friendship was pure. Somewhere along the way, deeper feelings stirred but always, their friendship remained strong. Even after they kissed, after they realized their mutual attraction, Ken always thought that they would stay friends forever. In his heart of hearts, through all these years, he still thought of Niall as his first and best friend. He held on to that when things seemed bleak, and in his darkest moments, to the memories of something pure and innocent.

There was a lot of bad in the world. Maybe more bad than the good that he believed in. Someone had to be here to save the rest of humanity; it may as well be them, the hunters who had armed themselves with more than knowledge. More than guns and knives, but rather, a sense of purpose. There was nothing more important than purpose to a man's life. It kept him going, kept him living.

Niall had lost that, Ken could see it plainly. He saw calmly through Niall's display—it seemed put on, a performance. Even the sultry tone came across artificial. Ken knew seduction; this wasn't it. Niall could be an attractive man but this cheap, tawdry. over-dramatic monologue left something to be desired.

Even when he came so close to Ken that they could have kissed, and Ken saw past the drunkenness and the lined makeup and the giddy high of those four pills to the unhappiness inside, he sat as though they were conversing about the weather. His heart beat faster, true, but he wasn't leaping onto a drunk man. He wasn't having a rational discussion with a man who was so plastered that he gave wallpaper a run for their money.

"Then maybe it's the other way around," Ken said at last. "Maybe I need to save you." Slowly, deliberately, he set down his mug and then rose. He side-stepped that gaudy, gauzy shirt that had floated away and he slid his hands over Niall's shoulders. Pulled him in. Lowered his head as his arms tightened around Niall's shoulders and, for the first time that day, let his calm expression fall. Maybe it was a good thing that Niall couldn't see him just then.

"Stop."

He didn't need saving. Nope. Niall was just fine. He was a fully functioning A.D.U.L.T. He could do as he pleased and who didn't want that? Who didn't dream of that as kids when they were under the thumb of their parents and the church and the organizations that ran around killing monsters? Who didn't? So the way Niall saw it, he was living the damn dream. He broke away, he left. Really, he was chased off. Nobody wanted to look at his mug anymore and he couldn't handle the way they all looked at him.

"You killed him."

"No! No, no I--I didn't--I-I-tried to--I tried..."

His pitiful cries were nothing to the ears of Junior, who stared him down like Niall was the monster. As if he'd actually been the one to pierce his little brother's heart and torture him. As if he'd used his own hands to do it. Junior stepped over the useless crossbow on the ground, sweeping it across the dusty leaves and he reached out and grabbed Niall by the front of his shirt, livid.

They all loved Lorcan. They all wanted to protect him. Lorcan, Lorcan, the baby of the family, with his inquisitive little lamb eyes and his spindly legs and his need to do everything and prove he was a part of the Gallagher clan.

"You fucking killed him, Niall! You and your fucking need to be fucking different!" Junior spat the words in his face, shaking with rage.

"No," Niall said weakly, trying to take a step backward. Ken was coming at him with that Face and those Eyes and those Arms and Niall knew exactly what he was going to do and he didn't want it. He couldn't handle it right now. He was fragile, standing on the ledge with old, unwanted memories bombarding him every time he looked at Ken, every time Ken spoke. Why couldn't he just be silly with him? Why couldn't he just down a couple of drinks, start singing too loudly with the jukebox, and joke about the stupid shit they did when they were kids? Why did he have to come here with soft eyes and sear straight through to his vulnerabilities?

"I didn't kill him, Ken," he cried as he looked up from the grave. It was cruel that the sun was shining and the birds were chirping and the grass in this dead place was so, so green. Inside, it was raining, it was soaking him in Lorcan's blood. He couldn't get the feeling off his skin, it crept into every pore and seeped into his bones. He held himself and rocked back and forth.

"Don't."

But the arms were already around him and he melted into Ken's embrace. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face down against his shoulder, willing the hurt to go back where it came from. He wasn't supposed to feel pain right now, not with all those painkillers. But his heart ached so much and all it took was one hug.

Niall couldn't even remember the last time anybody had held him close without darker intentions and it was bringing something out of him. He didn't want to. He didn't want it. But if he didn't want it, if he didn't need it, then why was he wrapping his arms tenderly around Ken's back and biting back emotion?

"You can't," he said softly into Ken's shoulder, face probably ugly-stained with makeup. "You shouldn't...."

Who was Niall carrying on the charade for?

Himself? Other people? The ones who shunned him and abandoned him when he needed them the most?

That included Ken, though. Ken who turned away when they were caught. Who pretended that they weren't what they were, that the secret smiles and kisses and touches meant nothing.

And now, he had come full circle again but he wasn't hiding anymore. He didn't have to hide anymore because--he was an adult. And adults had to live with their mistakes, with the pain, the searing memories, the loss and guilt. Somehow, life still marched on--for Ken, for the people around him--but it had frozen with Niall.

"I'm an adult," he said quietly into Niall's shoulder. Ken knew that he didn't deserve it, but he was glad that Niall hugged him back, that he could still somehow find it in him to do it. He held him closer,  tighter, feeling almost overwhelmed by his own emotions and the distance that he felt between them.

"I do what I want."

If he wanted to hug Niall in the midst of a crowded bar, then he could. He was. It felt good and it felt right. It felt like the thing to do--that he should have done a long time ago.

A sound between a laugh and a sob escaped him at Ken's witty retort. I'm an adult. It was true. Ken was an adult, too. Arguably, he was kinda more of an adult than Niall, with his clean shaven face, his tidy and respectable clothes, and a real job. It felt so strange, seeing him so much of a man and not the teenager that Niall last saw. I do what I want. A hiccupy laugh and he pressed his face into Ken's shoulder, eyes tightly closed as if that was all it took to stop waves of emotion from overcoming him.

He was so overwhelmed by just the most basic act of affection. Nobody hugged Niall. People held Niall in headlocks, wrapped their arms around his shoulders and steered him to back alleys, and obliged him when he said "fuck me". People didn't seem overly hostile here when they saw his clothing and his makeup. They thought he was an odd duck but he was just another odd duck in a whole lake of them, so it was okay. He almost blended in here, with his eccentricities.

But people didn't get very close to him and in all honesty, Niall didn't get very close to other people. He acted like he was close, with all the touching and the sweet words and the clinging behavior, and the neediness. In reality, inside, he was hollow. No, no. He wasn't hollow. That might have been easier to deal with. Hollow was what he strove for. Inside, he was broken. There were scars where he'd left Lorcan and when he'd lost Ken.

Because Ken was his best friend. Ken knew everything that Niall's little heart contained because he told him every single thing. Every silly thought, every crazy dream, every new idea--Ken knew because Niall loved him dearly, first as a friend and then as a lover. He could have lived on in Ireland if he still had Ken, that was the kicker. But he just had to be stupid and play with fire and get them caught and suddenly, Ken was not his lover nor his friend. It was the killing blow to a shitty year and Niall couldn't be there anymore. It was bad enough that there was no Lorcan at the dinner table grinning at him as he showed him his skilled shot with a gun or hiding under Niall's bed to whisper after lights out. It was made worse that Ken was there, within sight and he couldn't touch him. He couldn't even talk to him.

What was he supposed to do after that? He told Ken he needed him but Ken could do without him. It stared him in the face even now as he squeezed out long held tears, trying his best not to choke on them, to not start ugly-crying all over Ken's nice white clothes. He came back so strong and independent and capable--proof that he didn't need another person to hold him up. But Niall didn't fare so well, did he?

Willing himself to calm down, to slow his breathing and push back the swelling emotions, he finally lifted his head and swiped at his eyes, probably looking a right mess. He let out one of those shuddery little sighs that only came after bawling one's eyes out and he couldn't even look at Ken as he turned his gaze away and downward. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pathetic single key painted with gaudy pink tiger stripes and he pressed it against Ken's palm.

"...just take me home. It's off Center street, place called Cyprus Oaks. 3-B." What a fancy name. Too bad most locals called it 'Coke Oaks' instead.

Ken could be funny. He had a wicked sense of humor--an irreverent one--that hardly anybody but Niall ever saw. In front of the other hunters, Ken was the respectful, hard-working, honest young lad. In front of Niall, he cracked bad jokes and threw popcorn in the air, only to have them repeatedly hit him in the eye or on the nose. He snuck out in the dead of night and dove into the creek half-naked.

He even ate an earthworm, on a dare, and he hated it.

But after they were discovered, it seemed like the world fell apart. Ken's parents stopped speaking to him. When they needed to address him--usually in public--they kept to the bare minimum of words. Whispers started to go around; eyes that once looked upon him with admiration now sent glares of suspicion his way. There was barely veiled ridicule from those who knew and soon, even though no one knew for sure that he was Niall's lover, everyone knew that he was Niall's lover. He was the one caught in the act with him in the back woods, hands on each other, kisses melting into kisses, repressed groans and sighs heating up the night air.

Ken buckled under all of it. At first, he only wanted to distance himself until the heat died down. But every night, he dreamed of him. When they ran into each other, he wanted to throw himself at him and hug him and reclaim the happiness that once enveloped them. When things not only didn't get better, but got even worse, he pulled further away and soon, Niall was gone. Just like that, gone. Ken heard rumors of Italy, Spain, Canada, America. He tried to find Niall in secret but his roots were in Ireland and he wasn't brave enough to fly the nest.

But now, here he was. Listening to Niall's hiccuping laugh. Watching him smear eyeliner all over the side of his face, making the mask seem even more grotesque. And yet, Ken still found him endearing. His funny, exuberant best friend, who was once so full of the joys of life. No joy left in those eyes now, though. Nothing but tears and regret and pain.

Ken accepted the key and tucked it into his pocket. It would take more than his two hands to wipe away all the tears, so he didn't try to. Instead, he pulled back and stooped to pick up the discarded shirt, then reached out to take Niall's good hand. "Come on." The patrons in the bar looked at them on the way out and Ken just held his head high, looking straight ahead. It wasn't until he was outside that he spoke again.

"...you know I only came into town today, don't you? I don't know where you live." If anyone was taking anyone home, it would have to be Niall. Ken supposed that he could have called for a taxi, but he thought that a walk would help calm Niall down, so he started off in an arbitrary direction.

"God, I need a long, hot bath," Niall sighed. All he wanted to do was sink into the tub back home and just sink into the heat, letting it envelope him. Actually, he would like to just sit on the couch and cling onto Ken until he fell asleep but he didn't know where they stood anymore. Friends? Were they even that anymore? Niall had been through a full-on rollercoaster of emotions regarding Ken since the moment he realized who he was looking at.

Niall let himself be walked out of the brewhouse, feeling weirdly as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. That was what happened after an ugly cry. All the negativity escaped and all that was left was exhaustion. God. He was so emotionally exhausted. He didn't think he could handle one more swing of the mood right now.

"I just told you, dummy," Niall said patiently. "Off Center." He pulled Ken in the opposite direction and pointed ahead, as if they could sight the apartments from where they stood. They were down the hill aways, though. They wouldn't see them until they headed further down the street. Lucky for Niall--who would have been a liability behind a wheel and didn't want to waste money on transportation--it was within walking distance.

"Cyprus Oaks," he said again slowly. "3-B."

As they walked--or rather, as Ken walked and Niall stumbled drunkenly in a weaving pattern, he tilted his head back and looked at Ken for a long moment.

"Carry me? I can ride on your back! Like old times."

"I thought you were making a comment on the current state of affairs," Ken said as he gave Niall a Look--a Look that said that off-center was exactly what Niall was right now. But he said it with a soft smile, a teasing little smile, and his tone was not unkind. It was like being back in their teenage years again, the irreverence and the jokes and that little glimpse of an impish side that Niall was subjected to.

But, duly noted, he turned around on his heels and strode confidently off in the opposite direction. Hazleton was only so big, anyway; they would eventually have circled around to Niall's hovel (his words, not Ken's). As they walked, Ken was painfully aware of a pair of red-rimmed eyes on him but he tried his best not to appear self-conscious about it.

A lot of time had passed. A full decade, nearly. They had grown up, and grown apart in many ways. Niall's transformation was wildly drastic and Ken wasn't the same young man he used to be, either. Niall was still drunk, staggering into him at times and away from him at others, and Ken's mind was reeling at everything that he had been confronted with. He needed time to process everything and he couldn't do that while Niall was staring at him.

"No." Ken did look, but he Looked. "You're too old, too tall and too heavy for that." Anyway, 'like old times' was fine when they were teenagers and horsing around (and Ken did his fair share of riding on backs too) but as grown men, it wasn't quite as acceptable. If Niall had broken a leg, Ken would have acquiesced. As he had not, however, no ride was necessary. The gentle pull or push of Ken's hand in his was more than enough to guide him along the street when he wobbled.

"HA-HA. Off center, is that what you mean?" he said, inadvertently reading Ken's mind. "I've been off center since the day I was born. 'Boy was born looking like a Gallagher but not acting like a Gallagher!' Come ON, dad. Five kids, you know one's going to be all ~off-kilter~, right?"

It wasn't like his father tried to help him rebalance himself, either. He saw he was off center but his methods to push him into the center only pushed Niall further away from it. Maybe he just didn't know how to take care of a kid like Niall. Niall didn't even know how to take care of Niall, to be fair.

"Allllso," he said indignantly. "I take offense to that. I am not old and heavy, thank you very much."

He patted his stomach, which was at least lean and smooth and not some disgusting potbelly. Part of that was because he skipped meals. Not on purpose, it was just that damned racing mind of his. He just... forgot to eat sometimes. Although he'd been turned down--and he pouted at the rejection for a few seconds--he bounced back with a serene smile as he looked up at the sky and the new moon. The action was a dumb one; he stumbled briefly against Ken before wobbling his way back to his weaving pattern.

"I could be an alien," he said earnestly and in the moment, he really believed it. Because there was something he had been hiding for a while, for a long time. A long, long time. The... the rabbit thing. When he arrived in Hazleton, he thought maybe he was a shifter but there was something very, very different about himself and shifters. The rabbit form was... magic. It could float. Like a space rabbit. It wasn't a real earth rabbit. It was something else.

"I wish I was," he said wistfully, stumbling on a bit of stuck up concrete. They were over the hill now and the apartments were within sight. Niall stepped closer to Ken for some reason, like he was a shield. "That's mine," he said, pointing out an apartment that was currently darkened but the curtains were pulled open to reveal shadows of the room within. Then he pointed to the one next to his--3-C. "And that's Jordan. He's a prystal dealer. And I think he just knocked up his girlfriend so he's been upping his prices, so he says but he's probably lying."

Pointing to the one on the other side, he added, "And that's JC in 3-A. She's mean so just ignore if she says anything to you. Especially about vampires."

Niall wasn't old (older than Ken, though), nor was he heavy, but he was tall and he was fishing for pity, and Ken saw right through his attempts. Ken pulled him back when he veered dangerously away, looking up to see what Niall was seeing. The star-strewn sky. A round, pale moon. Maybe a bit of a cloud now and then, scuttling by on a breeze.

"You could be," he agreed--some of Niall's flights of fancies didn't belong on Earth. Not in a bad way, though. His mind just worked on a different plane than most people's. It was a sharp mind when Ken last knew him, and an intelligent one. But also a silly one. It was a mind that he didn't think he could ever fully comprehend and... perhaps that was all for the best. A bit of mystery kept things fresh, as they say.

He looked to the apartment building looming up before them and dutifully noted each window. Niall's neighbors sounded about right for the sort of housing that he was looking at. Low-income, cheap flats for junkies and the mentally imbalanced and poor single mothers and fathers struggling to make ends meet. It saddened him to see Niall mingling with these people, when he had come from such a revered family back home. The fall from grace seemed to have been a long, hard one.

"Now why would she tell me, a stranger, about vampires?" He lifted his brows at Niall. At the clear puncture marks on his throat, exposed now that the shirt covering it had been shrugged off--and was still in Ken's hand. Ken took in several deep breaths. Now wasn't the time to discuss that. He had a long list--and counting--of things to talk about with Niall. Drugs. Alcohol. Vampires. Hunting. Painting himself up like a raccoon. Even despite how much Niall had changed, Ken just... didn't think this was him. Not really. Not the version of himself that he wanted to be back when he was younger.

"Come on," he said as he tugged Niall down the hill and towards the apartment building. 3-B, Niall had said. The elevator was clunky, creaky and smelled like death and worse. Ken didn't let go of his hand the entire ride up, until he reached a door with peeling paint and a rusted handle. He had to fight with the key to open the lock, and as the door swung open, he gently nudged Niall inside.

"A bath, then straight to bed. We'll talk in the morning." When Niall was sober.

Oh yes, how the mighty had fallen. From a beautifully manicured garden and tall, intricate gates, and a manor with enough rooms for a bevy of boys to... this. A crumbling, low income housing structure made from an old department store. Ken probably thought it was disgusting. Niall was so far beneath him by now that it killed him a little inside.

"Because," Niall said in a tone of surprise, as if Ken ought to know. "She is one."

It was nice, being nestled between a prystal dealer and a vampire dealer. Actually, being there was how Niall sunk so low in the first place. First came the low income housing because what else could he afford on his nothing salary? And then came the temptations. Try this, buy this, have this. Oh, they love you, come back for more. Niall wanted to be loved and he wanted to be happy. Those things filled the voids inside, they quieted the vicious voice inside that told him how worthless, unloveable, and pathetic he really was.

And he was superman. On top of the world.

Niall was too drunk to notice the look cast toward his throat so he just looked up ahead and half trotted toward home. If it weren't for Ken's steady hand, he probably would have eaten concrete a few times.

"Talk about what?" Niall asked, fumbling for the light switch. Ah! And let there be light! The dim lighting revealed the main room of his place, which was less than impressive. There was the couch bed, always in bed form because Niall grew tired of popping it in and out each night. The sheets were rumpled and there were about six different blankets piled on top along with the same number of pillows. The coffee table was pushed under the window and covered in various paraphernalia of the illegal kind. Condoms still in their packaging littered the top of the television, which was one of those great big fat ones that weighed a hundred pounds.

There was no stove--Niall didn't cook. But there was a mini fridge and a microwave in one corner. There was no dresser, either--just a half open closet with clothes spilling out of it.

"The hovel, sir." Niall bowed for Ken and barely made it back up. As he let go of Ken and headed for the bathroom, he added, "Don't worry, the bedding's clean. If you're hungry, there's leftovers in the fridge." He paused at the bathroom door, though, kicking off his sneakers and resting his cheek against the door.

"Are you... staying?" Or was he going to come out of the bath to find himself alone again?

"We'll talk about the things that need talking about," was the evasive answer, as Ken stooped to pick up a few things and relegated them to the overflowing bin. He took a good look around, but he already saw enough to confirm what he already knew. Drugs, alcohol, trace evidence of the supernatural—all of the things that, as young children, they were warned against. Niall had become everything that his family stood for and against.

The place was livable, though. He noted a convenience store at the corner, and another one selling some basic household items. One or two trips ought to do it, he thought as he set his bag down on top of the couch bed. Then he looked up at Niall, with his cheek on the bathroom door, and his meaningful pause before he finished asking the question.

Ken walked over to him and gently took his arm. "Go on," he said softly, urging Niall inside. "Be careful with the cast. Don't get it wet," were his parting words, before he closed the door.

Ken waited until he heard water running, and then walked slowly over to the table by the window. He looked sadly down at all of the things cluttering it, the needles, the smears of some unidentifiable powder, the empty liquor bottles. Gingerly he picked up some of the bottles and transported them to the trash can. With light hands, but a heavy heart, he set about clearing the table and put everything that was on it into one large bag to be disposed of later. Then he pushed the clothes back into the closet, hung up the one he had brought back from the brewhouse, and made the bed. Mounded the pillows—three each—and straightened the sheets.

A cursory glance into the mini-fridge revealed microwave meals and some takeout boxes. He wasn't hungry and he doubted that Niall would want to eat, either; the hour was far too late for a full meal. Ken cleared the mini-fridge as best as he could, and then went to the bed to unpack his bag.

Weapons came out first, then the detectors that he relied on to warn him of impending danger. His gaze slid to one of the walls. 3A. Vampire. 3C. Drug dealer. The building was likely infested with the supernatural and they wouldn't take kindly to a hunter in their midst. More importantly, they might decide to target Niall, who was vulnerable and unable to defend himself. Ken's eyes narrowed into a dangerous, determined look. 3A. He'd have to keep an eye on her.

He slid his trusted blade under one of the mounded pillows and then sat down to wait for Niall to come out of the bathroom.

He couldn't tell if that was a yes or no. Ken didn't say, just urged him into the bathroom, closing the door behind Niall like he thought Niall was going to keep it open. (Well... he would have. Modesty wasn't a part of his vocabulary these days.) Niall stared at the closed door and the robe that hung on the hook screwed into the back of it. Ken's intentions were nebulous; he just sort of appeared and Niall was trying to decide if he was doing it out of duty or desire. Not like... sexy desire. But because he wanted to.

Turning to look at himself in the mirror, he let out a huge, soul-wrenching sigh. Well, he looked like absolute shit. Crying and makeup were a disgusting combination. He looked away from himself, hardly able to stand the sight of the man in the mirror, and he slowly walked over to the tub and switched the water on. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he stared into the rising water with blank eyes.

"How are you so good at it?" Niall asked, with his usual jaunty step as they cut a path through the greenery toward their favorite lake. Ken was good at being a hunter, like the others. He could have been a Gallagher, actually, if it weren't for the light coloring. They could switch places, him and Niall. Niall's dad liked Ken because he was one of the good ones and obedient on the field.

Niall didn't wait for an answer, though, because he was too busy running ahead of Ken with an impish grin. Even as he ran off, he was shedding clothes. Back then he dressed like a person, tank tops, jeans. He stumbled on the leg of his trousers but didn't trip. Niall was at least somewhat graceful and athletic from training, even if he wasn't much good at the actual hunting part.

He leaped straight into the water in his underwear, curls flying, voice echoing across the lake as he shouted wordlessly. The water was cold as he sank into it and the whole world slowed down as he plummeted toward the bottom of the lake. Niall always thought being underwater was the same as being in a dream. Floaty. Quiet. Serene. He swam back up to the surface and gasped as his head broke the surface.

"IT'S FECKIN' FREEZIN'!"

Niall made sure the water was as hot as he could get it before he threw his clothes off and slid into the bath. Another long-suffering sigh as he sank in, closing his eyes. He kept going until his face was under the water. God, it was scalding. He grasped the sides of the tub and he stayed under until bubbles issued forth, until his lungs burned. When he came up for air, he was gasping and he threw his head back. A swear softly passed his lips and he splashed his face with the water, scrubbing at his eyes.

His mind was still fuzzy and drunk, comforted by pills and alcohol but he was feeling a little more sober than he would have liked. He eyed the medicine cabinet.

Forty minutes later, Niall emerged from the bathroom, absently tying up the front of his robe. Normally, he would have tripped over the sneakers he left by the door but they were no longer there. Niall expected to face an empty apartment but Ken was sitting on the couch bed, which looked all... neat and tidy now.

"Didn't think you'd still be here," Niall admitted as he plopped onto the mattress in exhaustion. He yawned, then dropped down onto his side and watched Ken. "So... what do you want? ...did you change your mind?"

Ken stirred once the bathroom door opened and he lifted his head to see Niall. Not the painted creature with dark eyes and a fake smile-- his Niall. Even though time had passed, he saw the youth in him now and unconsciously, he smiled.

The bed jostled as Niall threw himself onto it and Ken, after a moment, turned to look at him. He remembered this face. Those curls. Niall's face was a little younger in his memories, with fewer lines, but he felt as if now, he saw Niall for the first time. He barely recognized the man in the diner earlier.

Ken remembered the way he used to laugh, as if his whole being went into it...

"No NO that's NOT how you DO it!"

Niall had a strange way of emphasizing words. Ken frowned at him, puzzled, frustrated by his lack of skill with the crossbow. He knew that good hunters had to be familiar with all manner of weaponry and he wanted to be good at this, too.

Lifting the heavy instrument, he took careful aim. A tin can on top of a wooden fence provided the target. He breathed in, held it, closed one eye...

THWUMP!

It hit the wooden fence instead and in a rare burst of anger, Ken kicked out at a dandelion, beheading it and sending the bright yellow bloom flying. He looked up, scowling, to see Niall laughing at him.

"'S not funny!!"

He remembered when Niall cried...

"I didn't kill him Ken!"

Niall was curled up on the mounded earth, as though he wanted to be there with Lorcan. As if he could no longer bear the agony and the pain. If he could have taken Lorcan's place, he might have tried.

Slowly, Ken bent and gathered him up from the green, green grass and the damp, fertile earth. He wrapped his arms around Niall's shaking body, his own grief beyond words or tears, and held him tightly.

"I know."

"I don't know." He reached out to touch the cast lightly, running his fingertips along the length of it. Past it. To warm skin.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know."

He didn't know. Ken didn't know. Niall didn't know. What were they doing? Niall wasn't sure if he should be slinging a leg over Ken and pulling him in for some romantic tryst--was that what he wanted with Niall? Or if he ought to be pushing him out the door to tell Jem that spying on Niall was pointless. All he had to do was ask for information; Niall wasn't hiding the fact that he lived in a den of supernatural entities. He even pointed them out to Ken on the way to the apartments, one was a witch, one was a vampire. Of course, he was drunk, so those types of things would slip out.

Niall stood on uneven ground with this Ken. There was something familiar about their interactions, glimmers of their past selves. At the same time, there was nearly a decade between them where things happened without the other's knowledge. Nearly a decade worth of secrets and stories that should have been shared between best friends that had flittered away with whatever took hold of their new lives. What did Ken do in all that time? Hunt, probably.

What did Niall do? Niall ran. Niall discovered the beauty of oblivion. Everything was a blur. There was the depths of depression, then there was the stealing to get by. There was the small town full of black sheep, the apartments where JC approached him for the first time and introduced him to her friends. He knew his throat was openly visible now. Ken knew; he had to--he was too smart not to. He was a hunter and he knew exactly what to look for. Niall was his lead to the rest of them, to vampires.

He looked down at the hand on his arm. This seemed to him like the prelude to something sexual. Coming from anybody else, he was certain that was what it meant. Ken, though... Did he become more open sexually in that missing decade? Because he never used to be the super sexual kind, not like Niall. He couldn't just do it any time, any place the way Niall could.

Only way to find out was to go for it. Niall reached out for Ken's shirt to pull him in closer.

"Ken, Ken, Ken," he sang as he straddled his hips. They were already half clothed, having ended up that way during a rough and tumble impromptu wrestling match after Ken called him some dumb name like Wooly or some shit. It was always dumb shit. They'd passed a paddock full of sheep and it just seemed to go from there.

"You should have been paying attention."

Ken was supposed to be the superior hunter. But now Niall was on top and it felt pretty good. He lowered his head, lips meeting Ken's with a smile. His voice went low, husky. "Now I've got you right... where... I want you..."

His nose brushed Ken's. His eyes closed. He breathed in the past. Oblivion wasn't the only thing Niall met after he ran away from his past. He met violence. Abuse. Use. Niall was an easy target; he wanted and needed and they supplied. His lips touched Ken's lips, light as butterfly wings. Nothing like the kind of kisses he used to exchange with Ken whenever he got half a chance.

"Is this going to hurt?" Niall asked nervously as he followed JC into her weird... dungeon. Seriously, what else could he call it? It was actually some underground... thing at the back of Hazleton Cemetery. What did they call these things again? Mausoleums? But it went down, stone steps that seemed to go on forever and then a long stone hallway that also seemed to go on forever. Niall was pretty sure he'd just signed himself up for some death cult torture. They were going to lure him underground and he would never be seen again.

Isn't that what he wanted, though?

Not if it hurts!

Shit, he was getting wrapped in something bigger than himself again, wasn't he? He pulled his coat closer to his body. It was freaking cold down here.

"No, no," JC said with a laugh as she looked back at him with her cat shaped eyes. "It's going to feel so good you're never going to want to leave."

Niall abruptly pulled away from Ken, letting go of his shirt and grabbing onto the front of his own robe instead.

"I don't know!" he said, immediately dragging blankets on top of himself so he could nest himself. "I want nothing! I want nothing. No, no, that's not true. I want everything that I can't have. I want my brother back. I want my parents to love me. I want to be good at something and to be needed but I'm not, I'm not!" He dragged in a breath and laid back down, covered in a blanket shield.

"I'm not. I'm not necessary. I'm like... like that stupid organ that exists just to burst. The... damn appendix. Some leftover relic. I'm a wisdom tooth, Ken! You got rid of me. You should have left it that way."

Neither of them knew. Their relationship--such as it was--existed in a nebulous place. A lot of time had passed but nothing had been resolved between them. They didn't leave on good terms. Niall ran and Ken ran and now they were together again but the tenuous relationship that they once had no longer existed.

He lowered his gaze to Niall's wrist, to the way his hand extended, grasped at the front of his shirt. He leaned in but... it didn't feel right. It didn't feel like something he should be doing. Not right now.

Not like this.

But some part of him still wanted it. Him. Niall. With his bright eyes and bright smile and everything that used to remind Ken of sunshine--blinding, intense, joyful and warm. The kind of warmth that soaked right on through him, past the skin and the flesh, down to the very marrows of his bones.

"Niall... don't..."

He didn't know if he said the words aloud or if they only existed in the throbbing of his heart as their lips touched. Ken lifted a hand to Niall's chest, to push him away, but Niall veered off himself and suddenly that warmth was gone. Niall was gone, covered in blankets, a torrent of self-loathing pouring from his lips.

Again, Ken reached for him. For his hand, to twine their fingers together. To hold on tightly, where once he let go and pushed away.

"...that was a mistake." Letting him go, forcing him out of his life, was a mistake and he had waited ten years to say it. But somehow, the words still felt trite and Ken closed his eyes to alleviate the sting behind them.

Niall shook his head vigorously.

"No. It wasn't."

But his needy, clingy little self still held onto the hand that held his. Why couldn't that decade just disappear? Why couldn't they just be back then, before everything crumbled apart? If they'd never been caught, Niall would have... he didn't know. He was still strange and marched to the beat of his own drum but he would have been with family and Ken. Maybe the whole family didn't care about him but he liked to think at least Daniel would have looked for him. It hurt too much to think nobody came after him when he left.

Because of course, like a defiant five year old, he had hoped somebody would miss him enough to come looking for him. Niall didn't exactly leave like a good little hunter. He left so many trails behind that it was a miracle that he hadn't been tracked down before this.

He understood though. The wisdom tooth had been removed, the appendix was gone and the Gallaghers could finally be the solid force they always should have been. And Ken... Ken could be normal instead of being dragged down into Niall's odd little world.

"I was only dragging you down," he said quietly, looking down at their hands. They could have been partners, if Niall only kept hunting. They were partners on several missions. Sometimes just them, sometimes with others. Niall might have hated killing but he was at least good at running and climbing. He was a biter, too. Get a hold of him and he'd bite so hard that he might as well have been a werewolf himself. He knew how to kick, elbow, headbutt. He had been taught and trained just like the others.

He just...

He didn't like it. He didn't like the violence. He didn't want to fight. Killing anything made him sick, that was something he never developed a taste for. Plus, there was the unvoiced fear that he held so close to chest ever since Lorcan died. He looked back up at Ken. Just looked at him for a long moment.

"I would've just got you killed, too."

Didn't Niall want the apology? The admission that throwing him under the bus was the greatest mistake of Ken's life? Didn't he want the contrition and for Ken to realize fully his own hand in driving Niall away?

Or were they past all of that? Was it enough to hold his hand and curl their fingers together and be without judgment? Ken sighed, a heavy and bone-weary sigh. After a moment, he laid down on his side, facing Niall.

"No, you wouldn't have." Ken's voice was firm and sure. He squeezed Niall's hand tightly as though he could bring home his point that way. Through contact--something snatched in fits and starts, in fear and in secret.

"Not everything has to be your fault." He shifted closer, until a knee bumped a knee, and he remembered the little old thrill he used to get when their legs touched in church, on Sundays.

Saying it aloud made it so real that he felt his eyes water. He... would have gotten Ken killed. Sooner or later. Even if they were never found out and they were partners and they hunted together, something invariably would have happened and Niall would mess up and Ken would be just like Lorcan. Limp and glass-eyed. The night terrors were filled with the thousands of way Ken would have been killed if they were still together in any capacity. And they didn't spare him from Lorcan's death, either. Because if it hadn't happened that night, it would have been another. Niall was a tick-tick-ticking time bomb, mistake upon mistake until the big and inevitable ka-BOOM!

Part of him relaxed, though. He blinked away that awful burning behind his eyes as he watched Ken lie down beside him. No matter the fears or the words that came out, Niall didn't really want Ken to go anywhere. His presence represented a stability that had been absent for the better part of his life out here. And he felt warm, protected by the blanket fort and the hand that held on tight like it promised never to leave again.

Ken said no. He wouldn't get him killed. His surety quelled Niall's fears, at least in the moment. His lips slowly formed into a smile, mostly hidden by blankets but his eyes might have given him away.

"I know," he said, somewhat exasperated as he fussed with the blankets to bring Ken under them, too. If he'd been on ecstasy or prystal, he would have been horny and he probably would have tried a little something-something with Ken down under. But he wasn't; the alcohol and the pills together just made him feel sleepy, coated in comfort, dreamy.

He didn't know how to make Ken understand how deeply that fear ran but at least for the moment, it was quieted.

"...remember that fart bomb I set up for Junior? But Jem broke it instead? I swear, he went blue in the face, yelling to everyone that there was a ghoul in the vicinity. 'Get Paddy,' he said, 'we're gonna take this stinker out.' All serious and his face when I accused him of just farting and blaming it on ghouls." Niall laughed, just remembering that Look. "Oh my god, he was so mad at me." He tilted his head in thought. "Come to think of it, don't think he ever did realize it was just a fart bomb."

"Right," Ken replied as blankets flew over him, enveloping him too. His tone implied skepticism, though. Same type of tone he'd take when Niall pointed behind him and yelled that there was a GHOSTIE behind him! But when Ken invariably turned, he'd be jumped onto and half-strangled with affection.

Well, there was no point arguing with a drunk man, was there? He was glad that Niall was returning to normal (somewhat). There had been a tentative smile earlier; he saw the way Niall's eyes crinkled. Ken smiled too, and slipped his other hand over their held hands.

"Jem... hasn't grown up much since I last saw him." He remembered Jem being more or less a bully. He was skilled, though, and he had enjoyed killing. It seemed to fill him with a sense of purpose--or he found one in it.

"I hope you're not planning to do that to him again," Ken said with a slight laugh, imaging a grown-up Jem insisting that a fart bomb was a supernatural and forcing all of his men to hunt for it. The more he imagined it, the funnier it seemed to get, and finally he burst out laughing.

"You're telling me," Niall complained, remembering the crack of his wrist and then the derisive comments thrown at him. Jem was still a big bully only now he was taller and had more muscle. Also, it sounded like maybe Ken hadn't seen Jem much until recently, either, which made Niall feel better. At least they weren't best friends, the way Niall assumed earlier.

"What? Tricking him with a fart bomb?" Niall asked with an irrepressible laugh. Adult Jem versus the fart bomb would be HILARIOUS, he had to admit. Innocently, he said, "No. Never. Why would I do that? I'm an adult, remember?"

But it was hard to keep a nice, straight face with Ken laughing the way he used to as a kid. Niall laughed, too. It was hard not to, not just because of the image but because Ken's laughter was so sorely missed that something in him immediately reacted to it. Some days, it was hard to make Ken laugh, when he was having a bad day with the family and things were stressing him out. But usually Niall could find it--some way to make his best friend crack a grin. Laugh.

Niall laughed so hard that he couldn't breathe, kicking Ken under the blankets for starting the whole thing. (Except he didn't--that was all Niall, wasn't it?)

"Would they really hunt for it?" Niall gasped through bursts of laughter. "I want to see them do it. Hunt for a fart bomb."

"Right," said Ken again, in the same type of tone as before. Niall would never resort to a childish trick like that. Niall who insisted that he was an adult, and therefore was entitled to doing whatever he wanted, which was the complete opposite of what adulthood really was. That Niall was definitely not above tricking Jem with a fart bomb, or some stink sap, or itching powder.

Mmhmm.

But God above, it was nice to hear him laughing again. The tension from before all but melted as their laughter mingled--although one man's laugh turned into a wince of pain when a foot connected with a shin. All in good fun, though. And fun had been sorely missing in Ken's life after Niall was forced out of it. He went through the motions of living but the world lost its color when he lost Niall. The things that he used to find joy in became painful reminders of what he once had, and lost.

Ken reached out and playfully pulled the covers up high over Niall's head. "Hush up, Poodles," he grinned. "Don't be giving yourself terrible ideas, laddie."

Poodles, Wooly, Curly, Sheepy, those were names he threw out in the past in reference to Niall's unruly head of hair. Some had better reception than others, though. Wooly got him tackled; Curly got him a coy little grin. Poodles... Mm. Poodles wasn't a fan favorite--which was probably why it stuck out in his mind all the more vividly.

"Oh, but I always give myself terrible ideas, Kenny boy," he said, the old impish light back in his eyes. So many terrible ideas. There was the time he'd decided (somehow) that it would be a great idea to try slinging cow patties at Paddy after the bastard kicked the back of his knee during crossbow training. So a few days later, while Paddy was out on the range himself with his lads, there snuck up Niall, with a tin bucket filled with cow poop. (Don't ask how the collection process went.) The mixed turds hit him square in the back and Niall immediately dived for some bushes. OOH, how pissed Paddy was. And then he found Niall because he was laughing.

A few hours later, the laughter still erupted at inappropriate times, even though Niall was laid up in bed with a bad case of stinging nettles. Paddy would have been, too, if Jem hadn't grabbed him by the arm and loftily told him that Niall had just made his own bed and he could roll in it.

"I can't believe you still remember that awful nickname. Poodles." He scoffed and blew at his hair, as if he could just let it take flight, like the dandelion head Ken kicked so many years ago. Of all the boys, Niall was the only one that had that nest of curls. It was another thing that set him apart from them but he didn't mind it so much when he grew older and people seemed to like it. Ken made fun but Niall liked to think it was because he was attracted to it.

Niall yawned again, eyes half closing. "Today has been a day, hasn't it?" After a moment, his eyes drifted fully closed, then opened again. "You think that kid's all right? Cain?" His eyes half closed again. "Hope his dad's not an uptight hunter like mine. Brother seems bad enough..."

Poodles was a sight better than what they called Niall after they discovered them in the woods. Ken's smile faded ever so slightly. He remembered the names, the looks on once-friendly faces, the disgust in his own parents' eyes. The worst of the lot was sinner. It made him feel unclean, like the ones they hunted.

Ken sat alone in the back corner of the meeting hall, hands clasping either side of the hard, straight-backed chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He looked at the backs of heads. His mother and father, their fair heads held up high despite the murmurs and mutterings that were spreading throughout the community. At Paddy and Dan and Junior, who sat with their parents, refusing to look at him. He thought maybe Dan turned once in his direction, but when he fully looked up, Dan was staring straight ahead again.

The curly nest of hair that usually occupied a space between Dan and Junior was noticeably missing.

Talk turned to their next hunt. The big one: a nest of insidious vampires in the upland moors of Scotland. It was going to be a long journey there, fraught with danger, but it had to be done. In a way, Ken was looking forward to it. Maybe if he distinguished himself, he could earn back the respect of the others. Maybe it would help fill the void, having a purpose in life again, after Niall vanished from the community.

He listened and he watched Colm Sr. taking the lead, speaking in that heavy, solemn tone of his. Tasks were assigned--way-finding, reconnaissance, supplies, security. Names were drawn from a long list and Ken listened for his. He was versatile; it made him good in many roles.

But his name didn't come up. He met Colm Sr.'s eyes and saw the revulsion there. The hardness in them. The hatred. As if he was the devil who led Niall down the path of sin. As if, because of him, the Gallaghers lost two sons instead of one.

Slowly, Ken lowered his eyes to the ground.

He nodded slowly and sighed, his own eyelids growing heavier. "Mm." Cain. That sweet, gentle-looking boy with the words of a fanatic on his lips. Speaking of saving souls, eagerly explaining to him that God wanted him, Ken, to save Niall. Back at the clinic, Ken felt unsettled. Here, thinking back to that moment, he felt it again--that sensation of something not being right.

But surely, a child like that... No, he was imagining things. Perhaps he had been unsettled by suddenly running into Niall. And now, laying in bed with him, he was tired. His mind was playing tricks on him.

"The lad will be fine. His brother loves him." Anyone could see that, by the way he stormed in. No one who didn't love their brother would have gone into such a state of anger and panic. Ken closed his eyes. "Go to sleep, Poodles."

"Yeah..." He smiled as his eyes began to close again. "He does..."

The brother might be a stick in the mud but he loved his brother, anybody could see. Maybe he wasn't even a stick in the mud. That was just all they saw of him because they were the ones corrupting the poor laddie's pure little mind. Yeah... That made him feel better, knowing Cain was out there with a brother that worried over him. Hopefully he didn't slip away without him again and end up meeting somebody way worse than a guy like Niall.

He reached up without opening his eyes to locate Ken's lips with his finger.

"Shhhhhhh," he whispered, finger pressed to what he hoped was lips. "Quiet, no momming me. We had a deal."

He was forgetting, of course, that the deal had been firmly rejected but his tired, drunken, pill addled mind didn't care. He had to get in that last word because Niall was still Niall. As sleep finally cocooned him, his hand slid from Ken's face to somewhere along his neck or shoulder. He was out like a babe.

At least for several hours, he was.

He was back at the artisan fair and instead of a little blond boy, he saw a familiar slim boy with dark hair. Cocking his head to the side, he walked over, a half smile cracking as he took hold of his shoulder.

"Lor?" he asked, puzzled but ecstatic. "What are you doing here?"

When Lor turned around, Niall recoiled.

"I should be asking you that question," Lor said, eyes half lidded and lazy. Never in his life had he seen that expression on Lorcan. Niall stared at him.

"Who are you? You're not Lorcan."

He couldn't remember the rest of it--something so dark happened next that his mind blacked it out. All he knew was that he woke up breathing heavily, crying out as he sat up violently. He raked his hands through his hair. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

I said no deal, Ken mouthed against the fingertip pressed to his lips, because as always, Niall had to have the last word. But that was okay because they both knew that regardless of how much Niall insisted, or how much Ken insisted, he would mom him. He would mom the hell out of him--literally--until his soul was scrubbed shining clean.

Ken slept as he always did--with one eye open. And when Niall jerked awake suddenly, he did too, senses immediately on alert. But the instruments that he had left scattered across the room were mute and unresponsive, and he felt no instinctive sense of danger to himself or to Niall.

"Hey," he said in a sleep-roughened voice, reaching for Niall. "What's wrong? What is it?"

"Lorcan?" His head shot up immediately, tone tearful and hopeful at the same time. The dream involved Lorcan so his sleep addled mind thought it must be Lorcan in the room with him. It wasn't, though. Even in the darkness, he could tell that much. Trying to sit up a bit more, Niall used his bad wrist and crumpled to the side with a hiss of pain, falling against the other person in the dark.

"Ow. Ow, ow, ow."

He looked down at the cast and slid his hand over it, not at first recalling why it was there in the first place. The voice beside him was familiar but he supposed that wasn't new. Just because he had frequent partners didn't mean he didn't have the same ones frequently as well.

"Nothing," he said, still stuck on the cast. God, oh god. His head, it throbbed mightily and so did the wrist. Clumsily, he tried to extricate himself from his bed partner, whispering "sorry, sorry," a couple of times as he shoved at his beloved piles of blankets in annoyance.

"God," he said as he finally got one leg over the bed. "I'm dying," he said dramatically. "What the hell did we do last night?"

"Careful, careful," Ken murmured as he eased Niall upright, helped in no part by Niall himself who seemed to have lost control of his limbs. Lorcan, he'd said. Likely a nightmare, then. Ken couldn't imagine a good dream about him, given the circumstances of his death. Once Niall seemed to have righted himself, Ken eased away and rubbed a hand over his sleep-fogged eyes too.

"Nothing. Nothing happened."

Something maybe almost happened, but it barely counted. Lips touching lips innocently. Not even a true kiss. Ken shifted off the bed and reached for the lamp by the bedside to turn it on. A weak golden light flooded the dark room. "I'll get you a drink of water. Don't get up." He crossed the room to grab a glass and filled it with water, then returned to hand it to Niall.

"Here. You all right?"

Even the weak light lanced through his eyes and straight through his skull. Flinching, Niall recoiled from the light like a cartoon vampire.

"God," he said with a wince, "what time is it?"

He didn't remember pulling the curtains closed and there was no sunshine streaming into the room so it was probably still night... early morning. Same difference. Bleary eyed, he finally lowered his hands to look at his bed partner and jerked back in surprise.

"Ke... Kenny?" he said, as if seeing a specter. He even reached out to him as Ken came over with a glass of water in hand. Although Niall took it, he was still staring up at Ken like he could hardly believe his eyes.

"Yeah..." he said, voice soft, lost in a dream. "I'm fine. I just... had a nightmare."

He blinked, expecting Ken to disappear as he woke up but no, he was still there. Slowly, Niall sipped his water, still staring at Ken as memories began to return in fragments.

"Actually," he said sweetly, "I'll be better if you pass me some of those pills from the doctor..."

There was no alarm clock by the bedside—presumably because Niall didn't have pressing places to be—so Ken didn't know the time. His watch was on the table but he was busy with the water, so he shrugged and said that he didn't know. It didn't much matter anyway; the sun wasn't up, so it was Ungodly O'Clock.

"I see," was all he said as he delivered the glass into Niall's hand, looking down at his startled expression. Niall looked like an owl, blinking, staring, eyes wide. Puzzled, Ken started to ask who else it could be before he decided that it must just be the sudden waking up that confused Niall. Maybe he wasn't completely awake.

But while Niall sipped the water, Ken gently brushed back some stray curls from his temple, in a rare show of tenderness. Niall had been dreaming of Lorcan. After all this time, his younger brother's death still haunted him and in a way, Ken wasn't surprised by that. Niall had always had a hard time letting go, and he had been closer to Lorcan than any of the other brothers. The guilt of Lorcan's death had followed him all the way here, though, after all this time. There was something so profoundly sad in that.

"...you'll not get more than one pill tonight, after the four you inhaled earlier today."

Ken withdrew his hand and, unswayed by Niall's suddenly persuasive tone, walked over to extract the pill bottle from his trouser pocket. He shook out one pill and brought it back to Niall, tipping it into his hand. "And in case you're wondering, I did count how many there were in that bottle, so don't try anything funny."

"ONE?" he all but squeaked out the word as he looked down in disappointment at the single pill in his hand. A single pill wasn't going to take away his pain! Even the kid had given him two! And--and everybody always said take two and call me in the morning so that had to mean something.

"Kenny... come on. Just one? You can at least let me have two."

He thrust the aching wrist in his direction, as if that would persuade Ken to his side, since his tone and expression weren't doing the deed.

"It really hurts." Plus, his head hurt, too but that probably had to do with the drinks earlier. He hadn't counted them but it didn't take a lot when it was paired with strong painkillers. Ken had a heart in there somewhere! He had to, the way he touched his hair a moment ago. So why the stinginess with the pills? They were prescribed by a real doctor. It wasn't like it was prystal or like... cocaine or something.

Glancing at Ken's trousers, he tried to calculate his chances of diving for it and Ken's chances of intercepting him. Ken said not to try anything funny but even if he did know how many were in there... Actually, Niall had no idea where that line of thought was going. He was still sleep addled and he felt like a truck hit him. Thinking wasn't his best suit at the moment.

"One," said Ken firmly, and his mind was all made up on that matter. That meant that the matter was Closed For Discussion. But he wasn't heartless, despite how Niall's tone, expression and posture seemed to indicate just so. He inspected the broken wrist by the dim light of the bedside lamp and gently touched along the length of the cast.

"You need it in a sling." Was the diagnosis. Niall was moving it around far too much--no wonder it hurt. It was jigging around in the cast, not getting a proper chance to set and for the bone to mend.

"You do not," he repeated for emphasis as he sat back down on the couch bed, "need another pill."

Making a face that wouldn't look out of place on an angry toddler's face, Niall threw the pill into his mouth and swallowed it. One single pill. His expression still wasn't very happy as he drained the rest of the water from the glass and shoved it onto the table beside him. Despite his childishness, Ken was still being patient, though, looking at the wrist and Niall watched him with hopeful eyes. Maybe he would change his mind about the single pill.

Or.
Not.

Niall pouted but the second Ken's butt touched the couch bed, Niall made for the trousers.

"No!"

Ken saw it coming. Saw the hand darting out, headed for the pocket with the small bottle tucked inside. His hunter senses hadn't abandoned him just because he was half-awake! Years of hunting had honed his senses, whereas Niall clearly hadn't kept up with his training.

He caught the hand as it landed on the pocket and hunter instincts kicked into high gear. Push it away. Swing his body over, the full force of it sliding over Niall and pushing him back down. He was aware of the injured wrist, however; he didn't go for it. Instead he went for the good hand and pinned it down.

"No means no, ye scamp."

"Nooooooooooo!" Niall howled as he was pinned down, struggling to get out from under Ken. His good hand was pinned, unable to try and go for anything--pills, a swing, a scratch, whatever was available. He was so close! (Not really.) Why didn't he remember he was dealing with a honed and experienced hunter? While Niall played games with vampires, Ken had been out working. Between the two of them, Niall never stood a chance.

"Why do you even care?" he asked, too tired to keep struggling. "If you weren't here, half the bottle would already be gone!"

If he never ran into Jem, he'd never run into Ken and he would never have even broken the wrist. Which, honestly, meant he never would have had those pills in the first place so meeting Ken had nothing to do with the wrist. His head spun and he squeezed his eyes closed.

Pitch black. Niall ran his hands out around him and met stone walls. Why were they so close? It felt like he was inside a stone closet of some kind. Or was that a pillar? His curiosity got the best of him and he slid his hand over the smooth stone. Suddenly, a body sank down onto his, pinning him to the hard floor. Niall's lips curved into a lazy smile and he moved his hand from the stone to something that was clearly not human.

"Fuck!" He gasped and jerked upward, eyes wide. Wait. No, he was just back in his bed with... Ken pinning him down. But he felt it. That... inhuman itch. His eyes sparked golden unbeknownst to him. With his heart pounding, he grasped at Ken with his bad hand, wrist throbbing.

A second later, there was a very assured knock on his door. Niall continued to hold onto Ken, as if he was going to get up. He shook his head violently, even as a woman's voice called, "Niall? I know you're home. I heard you shouting."

"What?"

Did Niall have to ask why he cared? Ken was momentarily taken aback and his grasp on Niall's hand slackened ever so slightly. "Of course I care," he said, almost... offended. Almost hurt that his intentions would be called into question. He wasn't here to hurt Niall. Denying him the drugs wasn't Ken's way of torturing him; one was enough. He saw the dosage and he judged that one was sufficient.

Before he could elaborate or do anything, Niall... His eyes... Ken froze. His heart began to thud in his chest as the instruments in the room suddenly burst to life, indicating that a supernatural creature was in the vicinity. Close. Right beside him.

But it had to be a mistake. It couldn't be so. Ken's mind was racing at the speed of light to process the information, all the while the instruments were going crazy around him, going out of control.

"Your--wrist," he said mechanically, as a woman's voice came from outside. The vampire. He seized on that fact--the vampire. She had to have set off the detectors. It couldn't be Niall. Not his Niall. It was--the glow was a trick of the light by the bedside.

He rolled off of Niall but he didn't go far. He took Niall with him, holding him close, in fear, to protect, in denial. "Shhh. Shhh..." Could Niall feel the painful thump of his heart? The way his throat went dry? The crack of his voice? "Niall... shh..." Ken put a hand to the back of his curly hair and pressed Niall's face into his shoulder.

The detectors were going wild. Niall stared at them, same as Ken. His heart raced but he said nothing, still hanging onto Ken like he was going to get up--and damn it, he did. No! He was about to protest but Ken didn't actually go to the door and he held Niall close, so he wasn't going anywhere. Close as they were, it was impossible not to feel the hard thud of Ken's heart. He heard it, too, as his head was cradled and he lowered it, side eyeing the door. JC could open the door if she wanted. She'd been invited in before.

"Niall?"

Another knock. There was impatience in her tone but boredom, too. JC wasn't used to being stood up and now that he thought about it, she had said something about coming over tonight, hadn't she? Niall remained silent, but his gaze went to the detectors now. Then back to the door. The doorknob twisted but thankfully, it was locked. JC could pick locks if she wanted to but she wasn't a chaser. If Niall wasn't easy for her to grab, she would move on to somebody that was.

"Suit yourself," she said. "I just thought you'd be jonesing by now."

The sound of her heels clicked away in the other direction and Niall let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Ken's hand slid down slowly over curly locks, over the back of Niall's neck. His fingertips grazed the side of his throat and he felt them, the two sunken round holes in the flesh. A vampire's bite. Maybe the woman's, the one who stood outside knocking.

He still had that knife under his pillow. It was within easy reach and if she had entered, Ken would have pounced on it. Thrown it. Speared her through the heart and then taken off her head, just to be sure that she was completely dead.

But the woman seemed to grow bored of knocking and receiving no reply, she went on her way. And Ken let out a breath too, but he held Niall even closer, even more protectively as the instruments died down to a low background murmur.

"She's the one..." His fingers brushed the holes in Niall's throat again and his heart wrenched. "Did she..."

He wished Ken didn't know. The last thing he wanted was for Ken to know that he was cavorting with vampires. If he didn't find out now, though, he would have found out when Jem outed him. And he would, because Jem loved to rub Niall's nose in his dirty deeds. Frowning, he remained as he was even after the heels had receded down the hallway. The beat of Ken's heart was reassuring, actually. Vampires didn't have the beating heart of a human being. They weren't so warm, either, and they certainly didn't cradle him gently.

Still, he closed his eyes again as Ken's fingertips found the bite marks. They were recent. Just a couple of nights ago, actually. No time to heal. Never time to heal. It was easier for her to just slide in the way she always came, her loyal dog. Maybe he should have shouted for her to rescue him from Ken but in all honesty, he didn't want them to come face to face. There would have been a fight, JC probably would have been killed and then her friends from the old ring would be on to it and there would just be all kinds of trouble.

"Don't," he said, feeling fingertips brush the bite marks again. He finally loosened his grip on Ken, which only made his wrist hurt more. Stupid cast, not doing its job. "She just..." She was just trying to live, like Niall, like Jordan, like Ken. They were all just trying to live their lives. And Ken was Ken and he was going to do his job. That was a problem.

"She's not alone."

She's not alone.

Not alone.

Ken's jaw tightened but his grasp on Niall loosened and eventually he rolled away and sat up, with a stony expression on his face. He slid his elbows against his thighs and let his head sink low, eyes closing.

She wasn't alone. Not the only one.

There was probably a nest of them around here. Somewhere. Vampires. Leeches. Parasites. His nostrils flared briefly as he took in a breath. An angry breath. Ken didn't lift his head again; he sat like that as though cast in stone.

And his voice was like stone too, when he said, "If she comes back again..." He let the threat hang in the air.

He was a hunter. And he had a job to do.

Annnnnd... there he went. Niall sighed and hid his face in his blankets. Normally, he didn't care about people's judgment of him but this was too much. Ken's opinion mattered and he probably thought he was dealing with a pathetic ghoul now. Which sort of was the truth. Niall had given himself up to the vampires, despite all the alarms that went off in his head and once he'd given himself to them, they basically owned him. Her magic was strong, too, beckoning him to come out but without direct eye contact, it wasn't strong enough to make him leave Ken's side.

What if it was, though? Ken would have thrown him away like garbage right into the bin. Or he would have gone and killed JC right then and there. He knows where she lives. It was only a matter of time. Their connection would be found, they would use him against Ken. Didn't he see any of that? Or they'd use Ken against him.

"No!" Niall sat up, reaching out and grasping Ken's shoulder. "I'm telling you, she's not alone. She's part of a bigger ring. They--they're all over the place, there's loads of them and they hate you. Well, not you specifically, but they've got it out for hunters like you. If she knew you were in here with me..."

He scrambled to sit on the edge of the bed alongside Ken, his hand dropping to his thigh--not in a sexual way but an imploring way. "You probably would have gotten the drop on her, it's true. You'd kill her and that's... she would... it's like the hydra. You cut her off but then a bunch more spring up where she was. They're like a big ant colony here. She's not the queen but she's close to the one I guess you would call the queen and he's... scary, Ken."

"I'm a hunter."

That was the naked truth. He swore an oath to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. Those who were weak, who fell prey to creatures not of this Earth. The Unclean and the Ungodly had to be banished back to hell, where they came from.

He looked at the hand on his thigh and eventually his own hand covered Niall's, but he said nothing and made no promises. Vampires were powerful if they were ancient, but so was the determination of man. Ken had hunted them before; they were troublesome sods. But he got through all right.

And this time it was personal. This time they were holding Niall under their thrall. This time they had someone so close to Ken's heart that he... He might as well have been Ken's heart.

Slowly, he shook his head. "Let's go back to sleep." Arguing about it was pointless, as it always was. Ken wouldn't be dissuaded. Niall had to have it his way. They were at an impasse here so the best course of action was to not talk about it--for now.

"Come on. Lay down. You need to rest." He squeezed Niall's hand gently and when he looked up, his expression was no longer hard.

And I need them, he wanted to add. He needed them to suck the negativity out of him, to leave him nothing but a zoned out, happy little shell of a being. He needed that so much. But he... he almost felt like he might need it less since Ken was there. At least, in the moment. With Ken there. The touch on his hand reassured him even though Ken didn't promise anything. If anything, reiterating he was a hunter was his answer. He'd hunt them, no matter how dangerous it might be.

"Alright, you... mom."

Niall sighed and he flopped back onto his side of the bed, twitching and kicking the blankets so that they covered the length of his body. As things went back to silence and Niall lay there with his tired eyes half closed and staring up at the dusty old ceiling fan, he thought back to Ken's reaction to JC earlier. The way he grabbed onto him to protect him. The way his heart thumped so hard. What was he so scared of? She obviously knew Niall so she wasn't coming to kill him. Give him the old 'bite and suck', sure but she always gave him money for it, money that was later squandered on things like prystal and other illegal substances.

Was that why? But he seemed... for once since they'd reunited, Ken seemed to drop his cool demeanor. Lightly, Niall touched the small of Ken's back.

"She wasn't going to kill me."

"You say that like it's an insult," Ken said with a smile, though he made no move to lay down just yet. His eyes traveled around the room again, at his instruments. They were quiet again, with the departure of the vampire.

...maybe it was her. Maybe they weren't reacting to whatever the hell that glow was in Niall's eyes. He was probably imagining things. The job had a habit of doing that to people, too; it made them too wary and too suspicious. Stare hard enough into the darkness and everything became tinged in shades of the occult.

"I know." He turned off the lamp and slowly laid down beside Niall, outside the covers. Ken stared up at the dark ceiling. There were worse things than death, though. Niall had to know that. He'd been through it once, laying on top of Lor's grave and crying his soul out.

"But we're partners. And partners protect each other."

Another face made in Ken's direction. Momming a guy was a total insult but Ken was back to his calm self, letting the words deflect from his armor. At least he smiled, although he still seemed tense after their near encounter with JC. If he met her, maybe he wouldn't be so worried. Did he think she was going to enter while they were sleeping? She might, actually, if she didn't find somebody suitable. Hopefully she didn't. He wondered if she'd heard any of the detectors and he bit his lower lip. Would she know the sound if she did?

Ah, darkness once more. It blanketed Niall like the pill, although the pill wasn't doing a whole lot for the wrist and the headache. It was trying to do the work of two pills, that was why! Niall shifted slightly but he didn't think he was getting away with lunging for the bottle again. He'd have to wait until Ken was properly distracted.

I know. Niall continued to stare upward, swallowing hard. She wasn't coming to kill him, Ken was saying, she was coming to do something more disgusting. Lowering his gaze, Niall curled into his mound of blankets and regarded Ken with a dubious half smile.

"We're partners now?" Niall grasped a pillow to arrange it more comfortable beneath his head. "I'm not a hunter anymore, Ken. I hate to say it, but I think you're on your own with this one."

Being used as some vampire's chew toy was the worst fate that Ken could imagine. Being food... being someone's toy, that defiled one's dignity and self-respect. It was wrong, plain wrong, and Ken didn't even want to know what drove Niall to it. But he liked to think that Niall fought against it, and that he succumbed only because they preyed upon him.

But maybe a part of him knew. The pills, the drugs, the alcohol... They all pointed to signs of systematic abuse. Ken sighed. It was too early to think about all of this. Or too late. He turned his head to look at Niall in the darkness.

"We've always been partners. You don't have to be a hunter to..." He paused, sighed again. The words felt too damning to say aloud.

If Ken came back here to get him to come back to the hunters, he would be left disappointed. Niall was in no position to save himself, let alone anybody else. It was hard enough waking up every day and finding a purpose to keep motivated to live the rest of the day, every day. If it wasn't the past, it was the things that happened in that decade between the last time they saw one another. Niall tried to have relationships, but they lasted for maybe a couple weeks, maybe a couple of months, before they were breaking up over one thing or another. Usually over Niall's addictions or Niall's tendency to cling or Niall's night terrors or Niall's irritatingly over-the-top attitude.

It was always Niall's fault and he wasn't going to argue. He knew he was scrambled in the head but it sure made every new relationship a little scarier every time. Niall still had that streak in him that wanted it to work out, though. He wanted to love and to be loved so he took the risks and damn it if he wasn't burned every single time. The hole in his heart just seemed to grow with every failed attempt.

He wasn't hollow yet but he felt like he was on the precipice. At the moment, however, he was in bed and he was warm and he was safe. And he felt like he wanted things from Ken but he wasn't ready for those things. He wanted so much to push for them but he wasn't able to articulate himself the way he wanted. So he kept his hands to himself and he toyed with the edge of one of the blankets.

"If we were always partners," Niall said, "I wouldn't be here."

"I know," Ken said with would-be calm, but the darkness hid the way that his heart rate quickened and the sudden sweatiness in his palms. That hadn't happened in a good long while, though. Only when he was nervous or anxious. And the Ken that laid in bed with Niall was neither nervous nor anxious, not even in the face of a group of weres. But somehow, this felt more dangerous.

He slowly smoothed his palm against the side of his leg. "That's why I said. It was a mistake."

Was Niall sober enough to remember? Maybe not. A lot of things were said while he was dead drunk and under the influence of the painkillers. If he didn't remember meeting Ken or falling asleep with him, he probably wouldn't remember a few things said to him so long ago.

Everybody said that that curly-haired Gallagher boy was Trouble, with a capital T, but Ken didn't know what made them say that. Even his own brothers—Paddy and Junior—made it a point to come over to his house to warn him.

Niall Gallagher was Trouble and if he, Ken, wanted to be a good little soldier and hunter, and if he wanted to get in with the 'right crowd' then he'd stay away.

But... He didn't look like Trouble. He looked friendly. Ken peeked out from beyond his parents, seated primly on the hard church pew. The priest was saying something about sinners. It was always about sinners, though. It was never about the good people, or the righteous. Always sinners, and how to not sin.

He tried to hold his bible up to hide the fact that he was looking at Niall, but somehow Niall seemed to know. They made eye-contact and suddenly Niall's face was wreathed in smiles. Ken started to smile back, before he noticed Colm Sr. scowling at Niall, and he schooled his expression back to one of neutral blankness. But when Colm Sr. looked away again, Ken smiled too—a fast little flicker of the lips.

"It was a mistake to let you go."

Damn it. Ken knew just what to say to hit that arrow straight through the heart. It was a mistake. A mistake to be his partner? Or... or... His eyes burned again with telltale emotion. Niall always had that super ability to cry on a dime, sometimes they were crocodile tears but sometimes they weren't; he was just an emotional person, alright?! To let you go. That was the part that struck him so hard. Niall lowered his gaze and tried to ignore the salty heat forming behind his eyes and in his sinuses and the way it burned in his achy little heart.

Niall perched on the fence, straddling it casually while he watched Ken training. For once, he was training alone. A little bit ago, he'd been with some of the others, including Niall's own brothers. Their return home was the reason Niall had even slipped out of the house, heading straight to the training field. To his satisfaction, it was just Ken. Niall had been watching him from a distance and had barely said ten words to him since he'd arrived. But they'd shared loads of smiles.

"If you're done, I could show you something," Niall said, oh-so-casual even though his entire being brimmed with the energy of a dozen pups.

What hurt now was knowing that Ken regretted it, too. After Niall left, how did he deal with it? Did he throw himself into the fight? Maybe he tried to follow but it was too late. And Niall never came back. Did Ken wait patiently for him to come back around, like the spoiled kid that couldn't hack it on his own? Did the families tell him not to worry about it? Maybe they even lied to cover for what happened to him. Niall had no idea what happened when he made his escape--he wanted to think it made his family think about him but after years of radio silence, hope dwindled.

"I waited for you to come after me," he confessed to the blanket.

"You are a DISGRACE! A SHAME to our family! A SINNER and a DISAPPOINTMENT! How DARE you! This FILTH! This WRETCHED PERVERSION WILL CEASE IMMEDIATELY!"

Ken had never heard his father taking that tone before. His father was generally a quiet man, well-spoken and almost a little bit aristocratic. They had royal blood in their veins, he'd heard tell. They were a legacy family and therefore, their pride was everything. Appearances were everything.

But now his father was like a madman, a man possessed. His fair, blond hair was plastered against his forehead. His blue eyes bulged. Froth worked its way around the corners of his lips and his hands were half-curled like he wanted to strangle the homosexuality out of Ken.

His father paced the dining room, back and forth, to and fro. His mother sat with a wooden expression, her eyes cold, lips pressed into the thinnest line Ken had ever seen. Thinner than the time she caught him sneaking back into his room after a midnight jaunt with Niall and Lor.

"From now on you will confine yourself to your room. When you are not hunting, you will remain there. You are also not to associate yourself with anyone outside of this family. UNDERSTOOD?"

Ken couldn't speak. His cheeks burned and his eyes burned and his heart—oh, his heart burned so much more than either of those. He was trembling too, from a mixture of shame and mortification and fear. The fear ate away at him, it clawed into his heart and clamped its cold, bony fingers around it.

"I was..." Young. Alone. Unprepared.

"Scared."

Too scared to look for Niall, when it felt like his every move was being watched. Too scared to step foot outside his own door, because the weight of those judgmental stares was like a physical hand, flattening him down and destroying his confidence and his pride. The whispers, the muttering, the revulsion that he saw in each and every pair of eyes paralyzed him.

"And I was wrong."

"I was too."

Niall never did anything as drastic as leaving the country all alone. For all the rebellion and wildness of spirit in him, he had been terrified when he stood in the airport, ready to leave. He'd been stuck in the country for a time before getting out because he needed the appropriate paperwork and there were... complications getting those. And then there was the ride to the states. And then there was the states.

All of it alone. Niall was enterprising, though. He wasn't timid and he had an easy time making friends. Some of those friends weren't really friends, in retrospect but they got what they wanted out of him and he supposed he got something out of them, too.

But it wasn't all liberation and freedom, the way he'd thought it would be.

"Scared," he elaborated, "and wrong, too."

"What'll you give me for it?" the older man asked, gaze trailing down Niall's body in semi-interest but affecting boredom at the same time. Niall blinked back at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you don't expect me to just GIVE it to you, do you?"

Niall didn't understand. He put his hands up and tilted his head to the side. "You said you had a place for me here. What do you want me to do? I can work for you, if you like... I mean... I already told you I don't have a job. I used all my money getting over here and I--"

Suddenly, he was shoved hard up against the brick wall behind the man's house. "You want the room, you give me something in return, you understand?"

Niall pressed his back as hard as he could against the wall, as if he could assimilate with it. "I... kinda? I don't know what you want from me."

"Then I'll show you," the man growled, his hand sliding over the zipper of Niall's trousers.

"I shouldn't have left," he said, still to the blanket. "But I had to. After Lor..." His voice caught and he fell silent for a moment. "And after us... after you stopped... I know they probably told you to, but when you stopped talking to me... when you ignored me..."

It broke him.

"I couldn't do it without you."

His family, the other hunters, the community. Everything became unbearable. It was stay and do something drastic like kill himself or it was run away and try somehow to collect what was left of himself and stitch it all back together.

They were both young, that was what it all came down to. They were kids, raised to kill, to become good little soldiers. A thing like that wasn't easy to accept--killing, that was. Ken wasn't born with a taste for it, the way Jem and Junior and some of the others were. It wasn't even an acquired taste.

He killed when he had to. When he came across those that posed a danger to themselves or to the population at large, then he knew that his purpose was clear. But when they were harmless and only wanted to live in peace, he let them be. No longer being part of the hunting clan meant that he could exercise his own judgment now.

Amidst the killing and the playing at being soldiers, they didn't have much time to be themselves. Ken felt the most freedom when it was just him and Niall, and sometimes Lor too. He could speak his mind without having to mind his manners. He laughed at inappropriate jokes, made inappropriate jokes himself, jumped and ran and swam and rolled around on the grass. And when he realized that he had feelings for Niall that went beyond simple friendship, he thought foolishly that he could hide it from everyone.

But the community that raised them suddenly turned all against them and it was like having the rug yanked right out from under them. They coped in different ways. Ken withdrew, distanced himself, and Niall ran. The circumstances and their immaturity pushed them apart, but necessity pulled them together again. Ken knew now what Cain had meant back at the clinic.

Niall needed him--but he needed Niall, too.

"And now?" In the darkness, he sought for Niall's face. His fingertips trailed against a jaw. "Do you still... need me?"

Living out there, amongst people that genuinely hated him, that was tough. It was easier not to care or to shrug it off when he had something worth staying for. Lorcan. Ken. They were his pillars and he felt, too, that he was their pillars. They leaned on one another for support when they needed it and boy, did Niall use up his share of that during their last year together. Dealing with Lorcan's death was hard enough to do with Ken's hand in his. It was damn near impossible when he was standing on foreign soil without a clue as to what to do or where to go.

It wasn't like he had family here and even if he did, they would have gotten wind of his past in Ireland. All he wanted to do was escape that past, the judgment, the fact that daggers charged his heart every time he even so much as heard Ken's name or voice. He didn't even have to see him and everything hurt.

But he thought now, sitting here in the dark, he sort of got it. Ken was scared, too. What was Ken supposed to do? Slightly younger than him and with more duty bound in him than Niall ever had... Of course he stayed. Niall couldn't keep resenting him for that. Tilting his head into Ken's touch, he gazed at his shadow in the darkness.

Oh, what a question to ask.

"If you only knew..."

Ken had no idea. It seemed almost unfair to plunge him into the mess that Niall had made for himself. Now all he wanted to do was take Ken's hand and tell him to run with him this time, anywhere. But he didn't know if he could do it. If it meant dropping everything he'd been using to cope, could he actually do it? Or would he die? Niall heard stories of going cold turkey and dying. He didn't so much mind the dying part but he didn't want to go out in pain. He really didn't.

Slowly, he reached out to touch the hand on his face, making sure it was real, that he wasn't dreaming again.

"...are you still going to be here in the morning?"

Would he be here in the morning? Oh, what a question to ask.

In the darkness, Ken smiled. He turned his hand and pulled Niall's down with him, to the bed, their fingers twining securely. If he squinted hard enough, he could just about make out Niall's face. Not the finer details, but the familiar shape of it, and the curve of an ear, his throat, a shoulder through the blankets surrounding him.

Niall was strong--stronger than anyone gave him credit for.

He ran, but he also survived. All this time, on his own, alone and frightened and unsure, somehow he made it. The drugs and the vampires and everything else were demons on his back but Ken was sure, in that moment, that Niall would find the strength of will to discard them. And Ken would be there, not only through the next morning, but into the day, and night, into the weeks and months--for as long as Niall needed him.

They were partners, and partners never gave up on each other.

"Hey, look. That one. It's so bright!"

Ken pointed up, straight up, into the star-strewn sky. One star in particular was feeling extra showy; its light flickered in colors of blue and red and yellow.

He tented his knees and drew the blanket up with him; his toes immediately felt the freeze and he shimmied them back under. They were laying on that little grassy knoll just outside of O'Connell's farm. Old man O'Connell was a sympathetic soul. Sometimes in the summer, they'd stop on by and he would give them drinks of cold water out of his well. Or, during the harvest, they'd come around with hopeful smiles and he'd be there with baskets of sweet, crisp apples or handfuls of juicy dark plums.

Tonight, a single light flickered from O'Connell's farm house. He was inside preparing dinner; Ken saw his shadow moving and smelled the smoke rising from his chimney. They were safe here, away from all the prying eyes, and under the blanket, their hands were clasped firmly. Ken shifted closer to get away from the cold, but--mostly to get closer to Niall.

He grinned and Niall grinned and in that moment, Ken felt invincible. Turning, he nuzzled the tip of his cold nose against Niall's cheek. "I'm callin' that one... Wooly."

"Does your mop look like a wooly sheep's coat?"

"Nae," he said, in his thickest Irish brogue, the joke being that he was making an animal sound, too. Not so much "bah" but still, it was a stupid joke, okay? They were allowed to have those, after years of knowing one another. His eyes half closed and he laughed softly into the darkness. He understood it, somehow. The reason Ken asked the question. It was his reply to Niall's question. A question with a question.

"No backing out on this deal," he said, although they had never struck any deals so far. In fact, every deal that Niall tried to assert was swept out from under him. At least the one pill was doing something, though not much. In all these years, it took a lot more of the stronger stuff to do anything for him anymore. The dangers of addiction--not that he would say that was what it was--but it did come with that damned tolerance.

Without asking, Niall drew closer, twining a leg around one of Ken's calves, resting his cheek against Ken's chest and slipping a hand over his chest. Better to sleep close. They were going to end up that way, anyway. If it hadn't been for the nightmare, he probably would have woken up this way--which was far more pleasant. His eyes closed and he could hear the thump, thump, thump of Ken's heart. A content smile covered his face.

"...I missed you, Kenny."

"Yer a right auld pair o' rogues," Old man O'Connell used to say of them, usually in exasperation when he found them creeping through his property at night. But Ken knew that he was on their side, and that no matter what he said, he would never have told their parents. O'Connell's two sons had been taken in the hunt; he lived alone in that stone farm house and Niall and Ken were the only frequent visitors there. He treated them like his own sons.

As he accepted Niall into his arms and let his mind wander, Ken thought back to that old stone farm. What ever happened to the old man? A nephew of his was supposed to come live with him, but Ken never had the chance to meet him. Patrick, was that his name? The old man talked at length about him but that was so long ago now.

"I never back out on my deals," he muttered as his lips grazed something that felt like a temple. Maybe the upper side of a face or a cheek. Ken's eyes drifted closed, too; he didn't have to say it, did he? That he missed Niall too? So much that he could barely breathe. Having Niall back in his arms again felt like the first gasp of air after a long, long time underwater. The stale breath was expelled and new life was breathed into him.

"As long as you keep your hand out of my pocket, ye auld rogue."

~~

When the sunlight shafted through the window, Ken's eyes opened immediately. Actually, this was late for him. He'd slept in; normally he was up before the sun peeked out over the horizon. Stretching his sleep-stiffened legs, he looked around, and then down. Sleeping lightly meant that he wasn't often surprised in the morning. He gazed at Niall—or, rather, Niall's puffy head of hair. Niall's face was mashed into his chest.

"Good morning," he said to no one in particular, since Niall was fast asleep and unlikely to hear him. But it felt good to say it anyway. Slowly, Ken disengaged but Niall didn't make that easy, with his death grip. He managed it somehow and slipped off to the bathroom to wash his face, shutting the door in case the sound of water wakened Niall.

For the first time in a long time, Niall slept like a baby. Beyond that first nightmare, he slept cradled in Ken's arms without slithering out of his clothing in frustration, without waking in a nightmare and not being able to distinguish it from reality. But he did cling. That was his nature. He'd always been the one that flopped over Ken or insisted on being piggybacked from place to place (even if it sometimes ended with him getting flipped onto his back or head).

He slept straight through whatever might be going on in the bathroom. It wasn't until he stretched out a leg and felt nobody that he took in a confused breath and twisted his head up, looking around the room with a pounding heart.

"Ugh..." He winced as he lowered his head and held it in both hands. He still hurt. That throbbing headache from yesterday was going to need more than a single painkiller. What he needed was something greasy and about 10 liters of water. Reaching out for the glass beside his bed, he knocked it over, finding it was empty anyway. Letting out another groan, he rolled onto his back and slid a hand through his hair.

"Ken?" he said cautiously to the room, eyes darting around. The room looked different, actually, now that he got a look at it. Nicer. Tidier. His clothes weren't spilling out all over the place now and his table.

"Whoa, whoa!" He sat up hastily, realizing that everything that had been on the table was gone. Thumping over to the table, he dropped down to his knees and felt around as if he were blind and the items had just gone invisible. No way would Niall have gotten rid of those things. Ken. He looked over his shoulder at the closed bathroom door. The fact that it was closed and things were missing said it all.

"KEN!" he shouted as he spun back up onto his feet, stumbling in his race to get over to the bathroom door.

He had the bag. The bag of drugs—pills, powders, baggies, drug paraphernalia. He had it and whatever he couldn't throw in the trash or dispose of down the drain, he flushed away. Niall didn't need these rainbow rocks. He didn't need the prescription drugs for someone named Jerry O'Hanlon. He defintely didn't need the needles.

Ken heard moving around outside, but he assumed that was only Niall waking up. He pressed the plunger on the toilet and the last of some unidentifiable white powder went swirling down the pipes. There. That was the last of it. Ken stripped off the disposable gloves—he kept several pairs in his bag—and dropped them into the bathroom bin.

Done.

Niall's frantic voice drew him out suddenly, however; he thought that something was wrong. Was the vampire back? Ken jerked open the door violently, a hand already at the slim blade at his hip. But the detectors were again silent and there was only Niall, looking harried. Ken's hand relaxed; he willed his heart to stop exploding in his chest.

"What? What's wrong?!"

"My stuff!" Niall wailed as he stalked toward Ken with outstretched, helpless hands. "All my stuff, it's gone!"

And he wasn't just reporting it because he thought some mysterious stranger crept into his apartment in the night and made off with his hard earned stuff. It wasn't JC, either. Surely she would have wanted him more than the drugs. And there were a lot of them, in various forms. And now there were... NONE! He grasped at Ken, in disbelief.

"All of it. All of it!" He stared at Ken, a step away from a mixture of real and crocodile tears. Real because that was a lot of paraphernalia he no longer had and he worked hard for it. And crocodile because the worse off he looked, the more sympathy he might garner from his dear old friend (who didn't seem to understand in the first place).

"You have no idea the things I had to do to get all that...! Please, please, please tell me you didn't get rid of it." He clapped his hands together--wince--and pleaded with Ken. "Please."

Ken wasn't sure how much he should subscribe to the wailing and the anguish and the threat of tears, but he was having exactly none of it. None of that nonsense. Niall had wandered so far down the path of iniquity that he no longer had the capability to pull himself out. It was up to Ken now to guide him back into the light and onto the path of righteousness.

"I don't want to know the things you had to do to get them," he said quietly, taking hold of Niall's hands in both of his, "and I did get rid of them. All of them. You don't need them."

Just because Niall wasn't used to hearing the word 'no' and had been living like a wild child out here in the poorest part of town, didn't mean that he should continue to destroy his own life. Ken wasn't going to wean him off of those drugs, either. Niall was going to quit cold turkey, whether he liked it or not. What he needed now wasn't a bleeding heart. He needed someone who genuinely cared about him to slap some sense into him (figuratively speaking, of course).

"You're quitting. Everything. Now put on some clothes, we're going for a jog."

Some healthy, mild exercise was just the thing. Ken let go of the injured hand and led him back out by the good hand. Also, he didn't want Niall diving for the last few prescribed pills still in his pocket.

Life flashed before his eyes, all the promises he had to squeeze out of people, all the things he did just for the next fix. Ken didn't want to know? Well, he should know! All the things that Niall had to do were horrible. Rob people, dig through trash, have sex with the most disgusting pigs he'd ever met, and the supernaturals... oh, they were only too happy to get a piece of him. The vampires liked him best when he was stuffed with prystal--they said it made his blood sweeter, more magical. Some of that magic transferred over, too. And he didn't even want to get into what happened at that club full of sex demons. Oh, lord. The things these eyes had seen!

He fit right into those crowds in his black eye makeup and his strange clothing. He was just another one of Those People, the strange people, the goths and the ravers. The clubbers. Nightlife, baby.

Actually, even being awake right now was unusual and he was tired, hungover, and feeling thoroughly shaky and twitchy. He stared at Ken, still in disbelief at what he heard. Everything. Everything was gone! Just the thought of not having those things sent his heart beating faster.

"Yes I do!" Niall cried. "I need them." He couldn't quit it all, everything. All at once. Not like this. While Ken tried to tug him out, Niall dropped down to his knees.

"No, no, no, no... you don't get it. I need them. I need them. I can't... I can't jog like this? Are you crazy?!" He hissed as he glared up at Ken. "You can't do this to me. Why are you doing this to me?"

Addiction was a hell of a demon. Ken had seen it before, when he exterminated a group of incubi. The humans that they kept were glassy-eyed and desperate, just like Niall was becoming. They pleaded with him to let them go, to let them be with their beloved masters but after a while, when the magic left their bodies, they realized what they had been reduced to. Some of them even thanked him for liberating them, so he knew that he had done the right thing.

But those humans were strangers; their pleading was easy to ignore, while they were at the height of their addictions. Niall was no stranger. When he dropped to his knees and begged and wheedled, Ken's heart shook. When he glared with anger and betrayal, Ken's heart bled but... he still knew that this was the right thing to do.

Niall wasn't logical right now. He was still under the influence—under their influence—and he wasn't capable of making good choices on his own. Ken dropped to his knees too, in front of him, and reached up to cup his face. He leaned closer, but not to kiss him. Just to look at him, and so that he could look at Ken.

"I'm trying to save you. This isn't... you. This isn't who you want to be, Niall. And I'm sorry if it hurts you now, but it's for your own good."

Ken had obviously never been addicted to anything before. Niall knew what was going to happen next because it had happened before. Oh, sometimes he didn't have what they wanted and he was left without, hands empty. If he thought he hurt now, he was going to be in a whole world of it soon.

"You don't know who I want to be. Maybe this is what I want, ever think of that? What's it been? Nine, ten years? What if I like it? And I do. Oh, I doooo..."

He tipped his head back, just thinking about being high. There was nothing like the prystal, for sure. It was like having every dream he'd ever wanted realized. If he wanted to see Lorcan, he could see him. He could be fifteen again, he could start over. Ken was there, too. And they were all friends and Lorcan grew up and Niall cried when he graduated.

His gaze turned back to Ken's, pleading with him.

"Please, Ken. You can't do this to me. Not cold turkey. Please... please! You're going to kill me. I can't do this, I can't. Look at my hands already. Look at--look me in the eyes! You know it's true!"

"I do know who you want to be. I do." Ken's jaw was tight and he just couldn't believe that Niall was telling him the truth. Addicts would say anything—anything—if it meant getting what they wanted. They would also do anything and Ken was aware of that, too. He had to be firm in the face of Niall's persuasion. Even if it broke his heart to see him like this, Ken had to keep reminding himself that he was right.

He was right.

Ken had to really think about it for a few long moments, as he swung his legs against the old wooden fence. Every time his heel clunked against the thick wooden pole, it shuddered. Kinda fun, actually, to be perched so precariously.

"Ummm... I think... I wanna be..." He tilted his fair head back to look at the clouded sky. "A spaceman!"

Niall laughed beside him, and he turned with a frown to his best friend. "Don't laugh! I can do it if I really wanna!"

"What about me?!" Niall demanded, pointing dramatically at his own chest. "If YOU leave, where am I gonna go?!"

"...you can be a spaceman too! We'll go to the moon together!"

"This isn't you," he repeated again, yet more firmly. "This isn't what you want. You want—" His hands flexed against Niall's face, pressing him into place. Forcing him to look at Ken again even though Niall was the one asking him to look into his eyes. Ken didn't see need in there, though. All he saw was the desperation of an addict and his Niall was not that addict.

"You want me. You need me. Not the drugs or the vampires or whatever else you've been with. You only need me. And I'm here now. You will quit."

Niall used to want to be so many things. Artistic things. He used to draw a lot. When he was in one of those sort of manic phases, he could draw for days and days. There used to be sketchbooks filled with the things they did together in the absence of camera phones. Niall drew forests and wild hares and delicate flowers and he drew Ken. He drew their hands together. He drew self portraits, some less accurate than others. He drew his brothers, his parents, he drew sheep, he drew goats, cows. There were a lot of farm animals in a small Irish town like Dingle.

Niall used to paint, too. There were days when he'd be covered in paint, slashed across his forehead or his nose, covering his hands. He was hands on with his work. Even when he drew, the charcoal and the lead stained his fingers black. Niall liked to sing, too. There were peaceful days out in the wilds of Ireland where he would pose Lorcan, lie in the soft, tall grass and sketch him while he sang songs their mother used to sing to them before bed.

Niall wanted to create. That was his problem. He wanted to create but his family was determined only to destroy. And they didn't see how they crushed his spirit with each year that passed, shoving him deeper underground. But at least back then, he wasn't an addict. Sure, he drank and had a smoke here and there but it was just for a good time.

Now he couldn't live without the substances and the creatures. The idea of it scared him. It shook him to the core of his being, the way it made him feel when he started coming down. Everything became so much harder to deal with. All the softened edges became razor blades. The world was louder than it had ever been and he hated it. Colors were too bright and blurred and blended. Voices chattered. A soft touch became metal rasping against bare skin. He burned alive from the inside.

"I don't--I can't--" Yes, he wanted Ken. He needed Ken. But he... he didn't understand. He didn't understand. "I can't..."

He got it. He understood why Niall turned to drugs and vampires and the like. Losing Lor, losing him, coming to this place and facing the harsh reality of the strangeness outside of their secluded clan, Niall needed something to take the edge off. Maybe it started with the painkillers. Maybe he just wanted to numb the pain. Or it could have been one encounter with a 'friend' who shared a bit of this, a bit of that. The first time, maybe it felt good to finally let go of pain and guilt and fear, to float away on serenity.

But Ken had been there too.

Ken knew the same pain, the same guilt, the same fear; he was the other half of all of that. He had been through that and he had survived. And if he could do it, then Niall could, too. Niall had to. In Ken's mind there was no alternative. There was his Niall or there was no Niall at all and he couldn't lose Niall again. He couldn't repeat history and turn his back on him again, when he needed Ken the most.

"You can." His touch was a soft touch, a lover's touch. A touch filled with love and longing and hope for something better than what they were given in life. "You have to. You can't... leave me. Can you?"

If Niall floated away into nothingness, up into the clouds to straddle the moon... then what happened to Ken? Where would Ken go?

Oh, how he wanted to believe in what Ken said, in what saw in him. He did. He really, really wanted to. And when Ken spoke so gently and touched him so softly, he thought he could believe that there was some way out of the dizzying world he'd buried himself alive inside. The problem was that he still had those lingering doubts of I can't bouncing around furiously in his mind. He couldn't. He could. He didn't know.

"Oh, that's not fair."

Playing that card on him. For years now, Niall had been what they would call... passively suicidal. As in, he hoped for death and longed for death but he didn't actually pursue it. That was fair enough, to want to die in a nice, gentle, happy way, was it not? He imagined it often: just curling up in a warm ball and closing his eyes and never opening them again.

Every time he woke up, he hated it. But he kept chasing his highs. They kept him sane. They kept his head above water when he was ready to drown in feelings that had never fully been acknowledged or dealt with. He was still running; he just found a new form of doing it.

Part of wanting to die was grief. Loss. Part of that was Ken. So if Ken was here, did that bring back a part of the whole? Did it stitch up a gaping hole that had been festering far too long? He didn't know. But he wanted to believe in Ken. He so wanted to.

"...no," he said after a moment. He couldn't leave Ken, no. He dropped his gaze, though Ken still held his face in place. Then he slid his gaze sideways. "...but I am not jogging."

Maybe it was fair and maybe it wasn't, but nothing was exactly fair in life. Nothing worked out the way one hoped or fantasized about. Theirs was a stark reality and no amount of drugs and alcohol could help them escape. When the pills and the bottles wore off, reality was still there. It was always there.

But it was a start to acknowledge that he didn't want to leave. Niall would never abandon Ken. He didn't, when their peers and elders sneered at them and called them filth and perverse and unclean. If Ken had been stronger... Niall would have been by his side. They might have weathered that storm.

Or they might not. Their relationship was one of secret trysts and lies to everyone around them. There was no telling what could have happened to them once the pressure was applied. Ken was trying to work through his past, to leave parts of it behind and to make up for other parts of it the best he could. By some miracle, he found Niall--he'd been searching in between jobs, hoping that the next lead would take him to wherever Niall was living. He'd traveled across the UK and Canada and America and God delivered Niall right into his hands.

That had to be a sign. Cain was right.

"One block." He leaned in; the tip of his nose nuzzled against Niall's. No kiss, not yet, but perhaps soon. Perhaps later, when the moment was right. Or... perhaps... just... a little... one? A... peck? And a little smile, relieved and hopeful.

"One block. Please?"

One.

Block.

A whole block!

Ken made it sound so easy but when was the last time Niall did such a thing as jog? Sure, he sprinted for his life all the time but he didn't exactly count how many blocks he ran before he was flat on his ass. He sort of stayed in shape... but he sort of didn't? It was a weird little place he was in; he was thin but not anorexic but he was no Hulk. Not that he wanted to be, thank you very much. All green and icky... He probably looked diseased when he took off those famous purple trousers. Yuck.

"One?" He didn't want to, though. Kinda hard to say no to Ken acting so sweet, though. Ooh, he had a kind of magic all his own, Ken. Why did he have to smile right as Niall was about to reject his one block idea? Like seriously, his mouth opened to say No petulantly and instead, he was struck dumb for a moment by a smile.

"Alright, fiiiiiine," he said in his most dramatically long-suffering tone. "But only one block. If you try and cheat, I'm getting you."

"I'm. Terrified."

Ken let go of him and rose, lifting Niall off the ground too. Niall could be fast. Back when he was in tip top shape, not even Ken could catch him. Right now he didn't appear terribly out of shape either, but there was no telling what the drugs and alcohol had done to him. If he couldn't make it past one block, though, then at least Ken would know how badly things had gone in the ten years that he'd been missing from Niall's life.

A block to Ken was nothing, though. He could jog for miles--he jogged for fun, too, when he needed to unwind and de-stress from a particularly trying day. But he didn't say that to Niall, because he didn't want to rub it all in his face.

"Come on, get changed." Ken had changed earlier in the bathroom into sweats and a light pullover. Even while Niall was sleeping, he hadn't felt quite right changing in the room with him. Call him a prude (many did) but he preferred to keep some semblance of decorum. Some structure and order could be what Niall needed in his life, too, and Ken was the epitome of that.

"Ha! Ha!" Niall was aware that he wasn't scary but he could still get Ken back if he cheated! Like he could sneak behind his back and find those pills or whatever he did to the rest of his stuff. Or he could... cheat back! Which was exactly what sneaking behind his back was but never mind that. He could paint a penis on his cheek in his sleep. Now he was getting into downright juvenile territory.

Which was not above Niall, even at this age. Especially at this age.

"Yeah, yeahhhhh, I am, I am. MOTHER."

He stalked over to the closet and yanked it open. All manner of interesting colors and fabrics met the eye. Floral patterned prints, knitted tops, gauzy tops, short tops, long tops, there were all kinds of things in his closet and it didn't look as if anything in there belonged to the same person. It could have been the shared closet of emo kid, a punk rocker, and a grandmother.

Niall, not a prude, pulled his clothes off right there, nudging them away from himself with his foot as he reached into the closet for a pair of shiny silver capris. Pulling them on, he eyed his choice of tops and he decided on a lavender colored cotton v-neck, mostly for comfort. He grabbed his sneakers and plopped down on the end of the couch bed to slide them on.

"You don't have to actually look like a typical jogger, you know," Niall said, appraising Ken as he yanked on one sneaker. "You look like the man on the news going 'Yeah, I found the body when I was jogging with my little yapper dog at three in the morning.'"

After his sneakers were on, Niall stood up, hands on his hips. "Alright, Kenny boy. Let's do this."

If it made Niall feel better to call him names—like mother—then all the more power to him. Ken, no longer susceptible to name-calling, only smiled to himself. Regardless of the verbal abuse, Niall was doing as bidden. And that meant that the clear-cut winner in this scenario was Ken.

Naturally, winners could afford to be gracious.

He turned away when it became clear that Niall was not changing in the bathroom, and forced his gaze onto the now-cleared table. Maybe he could buy a little camper stove for it; he would have liked to subsist on something more nutritious than microwave meals while he lived with Niall.

The rustle of cloth behind him was distracting, though. He wanted to look. Of course he did; he was still a man. But he resisted. He stared at the table and kept his hands in his pockets. "How do you want me to look?" Joggers looked like Ken. And Niall...

Ken had to force the Look off his face when he turned around. Niall didn't... look like a jogger. There wasn't quite an accurate word for what he looked like and Ken wasn't up to the task of trying to find one. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Let's get going then."

There were going to be a lot of Looks cast in their direction, he could already tell. But what did it matter, when they were together again? Briefly, Ken checked his pockets again, and then he opened the door—after another little battle with the doorknob—and stepped out into the dank, dimly lit hallway.

"Don't forget to lock the door," he reminded Niall—Ken had a lot of valuable equipment inside that he would have liked to remain in his possession.

"Not like a jogger," he said promptly. But really, he didn't mind if Ken actually looked like a jogger or not. It just made him feel better to bitch and moan about it while he dressed. Ken looked ready to jog through the streets of Hazleton and up to the forests. Really, he looked just like any proper jogger would and that was what Niall found funny. Did he do it on purpose? Or was it just how jogging people tended to dress?

Ken wasn't even looking at him as he got dressed. Hah. Seemed like some things hadn't changed. Niall used to strip down straight to his skivvies--sometimes even ditching those--when they went swimming in the lake. Niall had been stripping down since he was a kid, though. He was that boy in their family and in the neighborhood. The toddler that couldn't keep a diaper on, the primary school boy that promptly stripped everything off the moment he got home.

Really, some things didn't change. He smiled because of the way Ken cleared his throat when he turned to see him. The shirt might made of cotton but it just barely touched the top of his capris. All he had to do was raise his arms to show off a flat midriff.

"Wait." He grabbed a headband and slid it over his curls as he followed Ken to the door. Pausing only to lock the door behind him, he scoffed. "Even with the key, that thing's a bitch to open."

As they headed for the stairs, Niall leapt down half the steps and then the other half, jolting his poor headache in the process. He slid his hand over the wall as he turned down the landing and faced the next flight of steps.

"Note to self: don't jump when you're hungover." He held his head and gingerly went down the next flight. "Aren't we supposed to stretch or do some yoga or some shit before we do this?"

"That seems wise," said Ken serenely as he took the steps not like a rambunctous ten year-old. He walked—carefully, sedately. Properly. Ken did things properly, always. Except when Niall's influence stole over him. Then he might strip off his clothes (but still gather them into a neat bundle) and jump into an ice-cold lake. Sometimes he regretted his rash decisions but in general, a good time was had by all afterwards.

"We can warm up for a block, just by walking." They could stretch, too, but a brisk walk was usually enough for Ken. Besides, it was only a jog for one block—Ken didn't foresee sprained ankles and pulled muscles. It wasn't as if they were doing proper training, either. For that, he would have led Niall through a half-hour stretch.

"Here, this way." He nudged Niall down the street once they had cleared the building with a hand at his back. It felt good to be out again, in the nippy morning air. Everything smelled fresh and clean and pure, especially in a place surrounded by forests. Ken inhaled deeply and then smiled.

"I like the air here," he remarked while setting off at a brisk pace himself. "Let's jog every morning from now on. And later, we can go and buy some things for the flat. I noticed you don't even have a stove." That was clearly no way to live, according to Ken.

"Already cheating, I see..." Niall eyed Ken warily. Walk a block, he said. Walk a block and then jog a block but then what? Sprint home? Luckily for Ken, Niall did a lot of walking around downtown because he kinda had to--not owning a car or anything. He could bum rides and take the bus--which he did often enough--but walking around downtown? Not that bad. Jogging it? Another story.

But he was fine while they were walking. Kinda. His head still pounded something awful and his wrist really didn't like the abuse he'd put it through. Also, his stomach was churning a bit in a really-not-good way that the walking was either going to make better or very, very worse. He tried not to think about it as he straightened out his headband, wearing it the way a girl would and not like some 80s exercise guru.

"Oh god. Are you hearing yourself right now, Kenny? Every morning? A stove?" Oh, why did he agree to this? Why? This was madness, was what it was. Ken came along and now Niall's perfectly childlike life was being stripped from him and replaced with real, honest-to-goodness adulthood. "Jogging and cooking. What next? Should we start discussing baby names and primary schools?"

Warming up wasn't cheating and as far as Ken was concerned, the deal was to jog for a block. No mention was made of activities prior to and after the jog. He could not be held accountable for Niall's failure to anticipate that—yes, Ken cheated. But he did it legally.

He looked askance at the headband, reminded of the hippies of olden days, and then he shook his head. A stove was a basic necessity. "Stephen for a boy, Bella for a girl." Obviously, his children would attend the best primary school in the area. In a small town like this, he supposed that choices were limited but Ken had always imagined raising a family back home—in Ireland, where he grew up.

Even knowing that Niall was being facetious and poking fun at him, he couldn't help but give a serious answer. A traditional family was out of the question but Ken still wanted one. He thought that he would make for a good father. He wouldn't treat his child the way that his own father treated him.

"I find it interesting," he mused as he picked up the pace slightly, "that we haven't met for a day and you're already planning our family." If Niall could twist words around on him, then he could do the same thing to Niall.

Ugh. Niall made a face. Stephen? Why Stephen? And Bella couldn't be used seriously after that mess that was Twilight. That was the main girl's name, wasn't it? Bella... something or other. No, if Niall had to think of baby names--which he had never done before in his life--he would choose more fanciful names. Nothing so weird as Rainbow or whatever. But he thought something flashier like Seraphina or Lucifer would be cool. The face his father would make if he ever knew that name was on the table.

Maybe he should stick to naming pets, instead.

Resisting the quickening pace, Niall reached up and brushed the low hanging branches of a nearby tree. Was he? Planning for their family? He made another face.

"I'm not! That wasn't the point of what I said, you twister of words, you! You... nipple twister. Twisty fresh." Had they been kids again, Niall definitely would have gone in for a nipple twist at those words. As they were not kids anymore and there was still an awkward strain in their relationship, he settled for snapping off a leaf and twirling it in his fingertips.

"Besides, I'd be shite as a father."

Not being an avid consumer of mainstream media, Ken didn't know who Bella was from Twi-whatever. He liked that name. It had an old-fashioned ring to it. Arabella was the full name that he had in mind, with Bella as a pet name. And Stephen was a sound name for a boy, too. A good, solid name. Nothing wrong with either of those, and they didn't warrant that wry face from Niall.

Noticing that Niall was still going at a laggardly pace, he slowed—but only long enough to put a hand to Niall's back to give him a meaningful nudge. "Keep up, slacker," he said sternly for good measure, shortly before he was called a... twisty fresh.

Ken's brows shot up. Twisty fresh? Nipple twister evoked certain mental images, too, for that matter. He reached over and plucked the leaf from Niall's very fingers, and tossed it away. "Then I'll raise our children alone."

But of course, they would still be their children—Niall's and Ken's.

"And if they turn out to be right monsters, they can blame you, their absentee father figure."

"Hey! Stop being mean!" Pushing him and taking his leaf away! How dare he?! Niall glowered at him. They weren't even jogging yet and he already resented this outing. Maybe Ken liked the nice air and whatever but Niall would rather be warm in his bed, still sleeping soundly. And he wouldn't have minded Ken being there, as long as he was being sweet to him and not being pushy and grabby.

"Don't," Niall said with a frown. "Don't talk about me like that."

If he were to be a father, he'd be a shite father, it was true. But talking that way, like Niall would vanish and leave Ken alone really wasn't fair. Yes, he ran away from home and his family then but he wouldn't do that again and the thought of Ken thinking it made him feel sicker.

The churning in his stomach definitely felt like it was getting worse now. Feeling the sudden urge, Niall immediately ducked away from Ken's hand and crouched by the curb so he could let the sick out.

"...ugh..."

For a moment, he just remained crouched there, hugging his knees and staring blankly down at it. But once it was out, the nastiness inside died down, as it always did after a hangover. Retch out the poison, make it all better. Still, he felt particularly sweaty, shaky, and generally unwell.

The only kind of shite father was a father who wasn't there for his children when they needed him. There was no other kind of bad father. Even one who struggled, who didn't know the first thing about raising a kid, was better than one who vanished or one whose love was conditional upon their son fitting into a certain kind of mold.

Ken frowned too, remaining silent at Niall's rebuke. He didn't think that Niall would be a terrible father. Maybe an irresponsible one, and he would let the children run amok across the rolling hills of Ireland, but he would still be their father. Niall would probably be running alongside them, come to think of it—while Ken brought up the rear, laden with coats and shoes and whatever else they may have shed along the way.

Suddenly, Niall wasn't there anymore. He wasn't off to the hills, either; he was by the curb, emptying out his stomach. Ken was by his side immediately, rubbing his back. He paused to take off his pullover and draped it over Niall's shoulders.

"Are you all right?" He slid an arm around Niall and pulled him close so that he could rest against Ken if he needed to. Maybe Niall wasn't fit to be out yet, if a simple walk had this effect on him. "Can you go on? Or should we turn back?"

"No! I'm not all right!" He coughed against the back of his hand, that vile taste in his mouth making things worse. At least the churning had stopped. This was the part where he could just tip over and fall asleep and hope that the hangover disappeared by the time he woke up again. But he didn't. He tipped over and Ken was there so he leaned on him instead.

"I'm hungover and I'm jonesing at the same time." He slid his hands up over his knees. Part of him was so tired and unwell that he wanted to just cry like a toddler who needed a nap and a back rub. Part of him wanted to play into that side of himself and just say, no, he couldn't do it. Just bring him home and let him sleep. Sleep, sleep. But he wouldn't be able to, as tired as he was. Because he still ached and hurt and the withdrawals were nasty.

In the back of his mind, he knew he could stop them. All he had to do was go back to the building and ring up JC. She would hook him up. If Ken didn't kill her first. With shaky limbs, he made himself stand up, even though he felt his head spinning and his vision going temporarily black.

"No. No... just I ... I just need water. Water. Lots of... water."

All right, stupid question. Niall didn't look, sound or act fine and Ken was smart enough to realize what was going on before he spelled it out for him. The hangover could be cured with some water and maybe a few aspirin; the effects of the drugs, not so much.

He helped Niall to his feet and looked around. Most places were closed now but there was a corner store nearby and he saw the owner beginning to draw up the blinds and unlocking the door. "Come on, we can buy water over there." Walking slowly now, he tried to guide Niall towards the store with an arm around his waist.

Ken rapped gently on the glass of the door and the owner, an aging Asian man, hurried over to open it. "Can I get two bottles of water please?" He rummaged through his pockets and came up with a few bills that he hastily put into the store owner's hand. "Don't worry about the change."

The man nodded and retrieved two bottles of cold water from a fridge. Ken opened one and handed it to Niall.

"Is your friend okay?" The owner seemed mildly concerned, but Ken smiled tightly and waved him off.

"He's fine. Just... tired. Thank you for the water. Come on, Niall. Are you sure you can keep going?"

It was like he was hot and sweaty but shivering at the same time. Like his hands were twitchy and visibly shaky. Ants felt like they were crawling all over his skin and he felt a deep itch for something, anything to make it all go away. Nobody liked feeling like shit and knowing how easy it was to reverse this feeling made it even worse. Pills, alcohol, something, anything. Instead, he was standing against Ken, feeling faint and still determined not to collapse.

"...thanks," he gasped as he took the water bottle. Good thing Ken opened it because he wasn't so sure he could have in the moment. Dropping down to sit hard on the pavement, he greedily drank from the cold water bottle. His body relished the refreshment, even though it wasn't enough to drive it all back. His body had learned to move and work by connecting to certain chemicals that were now absent and it was making everything go haywire.

Resting his head against the back of the shop window, he looked at Ken as he slowly lowered the nearly empty water bottle.

"Yeah, yeah. It's just one block," he reminded Ken. God, he wished Ken didn't have to see him this way. This was like his worst nightmare. Okay, not even close but still. He wished Ken wasn't seeing it. Normally, he would have really played it up, feeling like shit. But he was half afraid Ken was going to give up on him if he didn't see Niall trying at all. That terrified him more than a jaunty jog while death stewed over him.

"I just need a minute."

Ken lowered himself into a crouch and ran a gentle hand through Niall's hair, pushing back some of the strands that were sticking to the side of his temple and forehead. He opened the other bottle too and set it down beside Niall, in case he should need it.

"Only one block. No cheating, right?"

Poor Niall... His expression softened as he let his hand fall, but his fingertips grazed the side of Niall's cheek. It was brave of him to try and push through, but Ken wouldn't have forced him to go through with this jog. He only wanted Niall to get out and get some fresh air; he thought it would do him some good, rather than laying in bed in that dark apartment all day.

While one block wouldn't kill him, it wouldn't make him feel exactly good, either. But while Ken felt terribly about his condition and his obvious suffering, he had to remind himself that Niall wasn't a baby. He was tough; he'd been through worse.

"Let me know when you're okay to continue." In the meantime, Ken stayed beside him and gently rubbed his back.

"...yeah."

Although the exhaustion was bone deep, Niall was glad he wasn't alone on the street like he would have been otherwise. After spending so much time essentially alone surrounded by friends that only wanted to be friends because of what he gave them, it was nice to just... exist for a moment alongside the past. The water helped. So did the strokes. There was no way he'd ever feel one hundred percent a day into Ken's rehab program but at least he wasn't shaking in some jail cell while a big lady named Marge made comments about his ass.

Niall didn't count the time. He just breathed and let time work its magic. It took some more water--sipping carefully this time because he didn't need that churning sensation coming back--before he finally nodded and got to his feet.

"I'm drowning myself in cold water after this," he informed Ken.

"Please don't," Ken smiled as he got to his feet too, though not after grabbing the empty water bottle so that he could throw it into the trash. "I'd be extremely sad if you didn't come up for air at least one time."

Not that he thought Niall would do it... but he also didn't know that Niall wouldn't. Truthfully, there was so much that he no longer knew about the man that was once his best friend, lover and confidante. So much time passed between them that the things he used to know felt like relics of the past--no longer relevant to who they were today. Of course, that couldn't be completely true, but it felt that way.

Grown-up Niall tended to play up every ache and pain (and more so the legitimate ones). Young Niall rolled through beds of stinging nettles and laughed about it before, during and after the ordeal. Grown-up Niall was dependent on so much to keep him functioning, to keep his head above the water, while young Niall needed only the brilliant yellow sunshine and the green, grassy hills of their home town to buoy his mood. Somewhere in there, a happy medium had to exist. Somewhere between the carefree youth of the past and the troubled man of the present was a version of Niall that they could both live with.

The thought was a heavy one, and it weighed upon him as he started to walk again--this time at a slower pace than before. Towards the end of the first block, Ken began to jog, but still slowly so that Niall could keep pace. "One block. Promise." He smiled encouragingly at Niall and reached out to squeeze his hand briefly.

"And if you make it all the way home... you can have a reward." Then, quickly, he added, "That's not drugs."

Ken was lucky, then. There were many times when he thought about not coming up for air but something in him always ended up coming back. Being underwater was still like being in a dream and it was a go-to when he wasn't feeling the real world. Sadly, he could only stay there for so long before his lungs began to ache for air and then he was back in the real world. Like right now. When he was on drugs, he was underwater. Now he had broken from beneath the surface and he was horrified by how loud and bright everything was. Underwater, on drugs, everything was muted and slow and easy to digest.

And here it was. It was happening. The Jog. The jogging part of their excursion. Niall was pretty sure he could handle it now but he was also a petulant child and didn't want to. But then he perked out. A reward! He put his hands together (careful now, with that wrist) and he grinned from ear to ear, about to say it--but Ken was quick.

"...you're not very good at this," he declared. When he was younger, he would have been turning this into a race. Last one to the house was a rotting vampire or something along those lines. Now Niall was just jogging along because he'd been told he had to and he was humoring Ken. But his mind was starting to reel, screaming that he needed those missing chemicals, that he needed something before he ended up a curled up ball of nothing.

Yet he was still doing it. One jolting, awful step at a time. He was jogging under heavy protest. And as they did, he saw one of his dealers packing up, getting ready to go home and go to bed, probably. The dealers tended to work late and sleep through the day. Niall made a small noise in the back of his throat when their gazes met and the dealer smirked at him, calling out, "Ni-baby, never thought I'd see the day!"

"... I'm trying something new, Kev, it's called living."

Kev laughed, then made a tipping hat motion at Ken. "Good luck, you've got your work cut out for you with this one."

"I think you'll find that I'm very good at this," Ken responded with as close to a smirk as had ever been seen on his face in broad daylight. Beat Niall to the punch; no deal on drugs. That satisfied Ken but it didn't seem to satisfy Niall—then again, he didn't expect it to. It was nice, though... seeing his eyes light up like that. Even if the happiness was in response to the prospect of loading up on pills, it was at least a glimmer of a happier Niall.

In their youth, they would have run pell mell for the hills, breathing hard and panting like dogs when they collapsed eventually. Today, they jogged slowly and took it one step at a time. For Ken, it was more like a speed-walk but he was glad that Niall was beside him, keeping up, doing his best. He remained silent during the exchange with a shady-looking character, however, and when the man tossed a humorous comment his way, he only nodded curtly.

Yes, he knew that he had his work cut out for him. One jog wouldn't miraculously bring Niall back from the clutches of addiction. Some days would be harder than others. Some days, Niall might hate him. He might fight with him tooth and nail. He might sling insults and barbs and hurtful words, genuinely thinking that Ken was tormenting him. It would be hard work.

Luckily for them both, Ken wasn't afraid of hard work.

"Almost there," he said as they neared the end of the block. Only a few steps forward and they were there, at the cross-section. Ken turned to Niall and smiled. Beamed at him proudly. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

ALMOST THERE.

Almost felt so far away but Niall could see it and it was within reach and he wasn't dead yet. Yay. He dropped to his knees in dramatic fashion to rest for a moment, then sat back on his heels. Yep, home sweet home was so close, it was within sight. Niall grinned, though, looking up at Ken. Look at them, smiling at each other like they were kids again. Warmed his cold, dead heart.

"Your reward better be worth it," he said. "Or I'm staying in bed tomorrow."

Sub-consciously, Niall didn't want to think about tomorrow. Deep down, he knew this was just the beginning, the tip of a terrible iceberg. He had to get sober a couple of times in the past and it was never, ever a pleasant experience. It got a lot worse before it got better. And eventually, Niall went back to what he knew because he was weak and the people were all around him and they knew where to find him, how to get him right back on that train. And it wasted all that time, effort, and suffering. Erased it all.

He thought Ken didn't know what he was getting into, as well. Could anybody care enough about Niall to stick with him even when he was really at his worst? Worse than anything he ever knew of Niall? Because the young Niall, his worst was nothing like the adult Niall.

Getting to his feet, Niall stretched a leg out into the air.

"I could go for ten more blocks," he claimed, "but not now. I'm too hungry. I need some greasy hash browns from Mama Betty's."

"You'll not stay in bed all day," said Ken sternly, looking down at an over-dramatic Niall who seemed inches away from kissing the ground and declaring everlasting love for it. Luckily, Niall did no such thing and only sat on his heels to catch his breath. Then over-confidence got the better of him and even Ken laughed. Ten more blocks. Hm.

"How about some toast and poached eggs instead?" He asked, but it was less of a suggestion and more of a... strongly worded suggestion, with very little by way of choice. All of that grease—hash browns, chips, carry-out from cheap food courts and restaurants—was doing more to kill Niall than the drugs and alcohol.

Ken turned for home, taking hold of Niall's hand as much to have it as to stop him from dragging his feet or running off to Betty's. "Made by these two talented hands," he said persuasively, as though it was an honor—it was—to eat a meal personally prepared by him.

Oho, yes he would so! If his reward was something lame like now go take a shower, smelly then he was definitely staying home and skipping the jogging thing tomorrow! He continued to look up at Ken, though he squinted slightly at his change of menu. Why? Why wouldn't Ken just let him have or do anything? This was going to become unbearable real fast, he thought.

"But... but Betty's..." he protested as his hand was taken like a parent taking their wayward toddler's hand. Niall stared in the direction of Betty's, which he could also see from here. It was right there, though! And they were already out! He turned back to Ken with an exasperated sigh.

"How? I don't have a stove, remember?"

Did he even have a toaster, come to think of it? There was the indispensable microwave but had he ever gotten a toaster into his place? He just ate his bread straight from the loaf. Who had time for waiting on toast? Pffft.

"I'll buy us one on the way home."

Little camping stoves were a dime a dozen, and they were a good long-term investment to boot. Ken was a problem-solver; in the face of Niall's skepticism, he rose to the occasion grandly. Stove, pan, a bit of oil. That was all they needed. He had made do with worse before.

"And when I have time, we'll go and buy some more things for the flat. I'll be here for quite a while." He paused. Looked at Niall, with his dissatisfied face and his crooked headband and his flushed cheeks, fresh off a one-block jog. But he made it. Despite throwing up earlier and looking like death, he pulled through.

Something in his heart warmed and he pulled Niall closer, hoping that the proximity would persuade him to give up some of that grouchy grumbling.

"I might even stay... forever. You won't let me waste away, will you? On nothing but microwave meals and hash browns? Hm?"

"Might wanna add a toaster to that list, then, unless you found one when you were nosing around my place, cause I'm pretty sure I don't have one."

He liked the sound of that, though. Ken staying. Or maybe he didn't. It was tricky for him to decide. On one hand, Ken seemed determined to change everything in Niall's comfortable life. On the other, he was back in his life. Be careful what you wish for? If he didn't feel like such rubbish, he would still think he was dreaming.

"Do I look like I've wasted away, hm?" Niall asked. "Is that what you're trying to say?"

He lifted his arm up and flexed it. To his satisfaction there was still some muscle in his upper arm. Maybe not as much as it might have been if he was still a hunter or an athlete but he wasn't just skin and bones!

"I'm still sexy," he told Ken. "The secret is in the drugs. You can eat as much as you want but the drugs make your metabolism crazy fast." He didn't know if this was true or not--it was just something some of the girls said to each other so he was copying them.

"I can toast bread in a pan," Ken said easily, as his thumb brushed the back of Niall's hand absently. The walk was pleasant, even if the grumbling wasn't. He hadn't heard anyone complain so much in his life—and he grew up with Niall the chatterbox!

Looking at the flexing and the muscles and Niall's attempt to prove... something, Ken laughed. Not unkindly, but amusedly. He didn't try to flex. He did put out a hand to pat Niall's stomach. Not as defined as it used to be—oh, he remembered very well how fit this body used to be in its prime.

"But I don't like drugs, Poodles. I only like you."

Niall wasn't Niall on drugs. Ken didn't much like that side of him, or the way he acted and spoke. He fluctuated between highs and lows at a blink, his emotions as erratic and unpredictable as his actions. A little of that scared Ken, if he had to be honest. There was always a fear that Niall would rebel; that he would go back to old ways. They could yoyo forever in this tug-of-war.

Ken's voice softened as he said, "Just give it a go, all right? Give me a chance to help you."

"Whaaat?" Ken was right, though. Bread could be toasted in a pan. Like grilled cheese. Why was his mind so blown by this? Probably because his mother never made toast that way; they'd always had a working toaster for that sort of thing and Niall didn't think twice about other options. The laughter, though, Niall made a slight face as his stomach was patted rather than his flexing arm. It was the arm he was showing off here right now, not the stomach!

"I can't decide if I like you or not..." Better than drugs? Maybe. It was sadly debatable because it depended largely on his mood and he had some wild mood swings these days.

The truth had already been spoken, though. That he needed him. Wanted him. Niall scuffed his sneakers on the ground, enjoying their close proximity and the silly nickname and the fact that Ken was still there. He kept thinking it must be a dream. That it was going to become a nightmare, that he would turn to look at Ken to find he was staring into the eyes of a monster. But every time he looked, Ken was still there and he was still Ken.

"I... I am," he said, suddenly nervous at the thought of Ken counting on him for something. He swept a hand over his shiny capris. "Just... don't expect a lot. Not sure you've noticed but I'm kind of a mess these days."

Niall liked him. Ken wasn't confident enough to bet on anything more than that, but like was enough for now. It got them through a rocky reunion. Maybe it wouldn't be enough to keep Niall on the straight and narrow, but... it was a start.

"I noticed." Hard to miss that little detail, as a matter of fact. If Jem hadn't pointed Niall out in the diner, Ken would have walked right on by. He wouldn't have given the man with the crazy makeup and the ostentatious clothing a second glance.

They had something to thank Jem for, it seemed.

"But you know." He slowed and pulled Niall closer, until their shoulders brushed. "I'm not giving up." Ken wasn't the type. Even from childhood, he went through with all the tasks that the adults piled onto his shoulders. He accomplished every mission, completed every hunt, trained until his legs gave out—but he never gave up.

The only thing he ever gave up on was Niall and... that was a mistake. But it wouldn't be a mistake he would repeat easily.

"I'm not letting you give up, either. You can complain and you can try to cheat and get out of this, but I'll hunt you down, Niall Gallagher." Ken smiled crookedly. "I'm the best hunter around these parts, aren't I?"

Oh, how he wanted to wriggle out from under those promises and at the same time, how he wanted to worm his way into a safe place, like curled around Ken's heart. All he wanted was right beside him. Some seconds, he was content, some seconds his mind itched for the cure. He closed his eyes as Ken pulled him closer and he immediately dropped his head affectionately to nuzzle him. Ken said he wasn't giving up and Niall wanted to believe that so badly. Once, he had given up on him and that straight up tore his world apart but although it had broken him, Niall still had a hard time holding a grudge. After all the things he had done, he wasn't one to be pointing fingers at people anymore.

"Is that so?" Niall asked, looking up with a spark of the old impish expression on his face. "Because I always thought it was all about Jem."

It wasn't; Niall grew up hearing all about his brothers. Those were the hunters he was supposed to turn to for role models. Them and his father. The Gallaghers. Legacy hunters. There were a number of those around the world but in their little hole in the woods, it was all about the Gallaghers. Niall wondered how they'd feel if they were set out in the US of A. Ken looked like he had taken to it pretty well. Jem, too. But had they met any of the US legacies yet?

After a moment, he haltingly asked, "My brothers...? How... are they these days? Do you know?"

He knew he shouldn't, but when Niall nuzzled against him so endearingly, Ken briefly nuzzled him back. This was... not bravery, but a sort of peace. Peace with himself and peace with who he was. Who Niall was. In their youth, simple and innocent gestures of affection like these had to be carefully hidden but out here, right now, they were free to express themselves. It was nice.

"Jem's a real gem," Ken deadpanned. He didn't want to speak ill of a colleague. Jem was a good hunter and a skilled one. He didn't let emotions get in the way of the job, for which Ken had much respect. (Except now, Ken was pretty emotional in his own way, but—he wasn't on the job.) A shite personality didn't mean that Jem didn't deserve credit where credit was due.

"Your brothers are doing... well." In that they were mostly unchanged. "Paddy's in the States now. We met a few times, but... he's still the same, I'm afraid. Danny boy's back home, holding down the fort. Has his own pub, too." Ken smiled fondly; Danny's good-natured personality made him a far better pub owner than hunter, it was true.

"...Junior ran afoul of some banshees a few years ago. Hurt pretty bad. Had to stop hunting. He helps Colm Sr. manage the clan but last I heard, he's given up hunting for good. Oh, but he's married now! Has a wife and son."

Content sigh. See, this is what he needed, really. Ken didn't shy away, didn't look around as if they were going to be caught because Niall was being extra affectionate. Some things never changed but it looked like some did. Finally, one that changed for the better. Niall made a hand waving motion, sweeping away the talk of Jem, even though he was the one that brought him up. No thank you. He would rather move onto greener pastures.

Of course, Paddy came up first. Niall made a hideous face in response. Of course Paddy was here. Why were they all here? Not bothering to ask if Paddy was in this part of the States, Niall listened to what had become of Daniel instead and he smiled. Now that sounded like Dan, all right. He would be a great pub owner. He always had that open smile and personality. Of all of his older brothers, Daniel was the one that acted most like one.

"Good for him," he said of Daniel. Then nearly choked to death on air when he heard what happened to Junior. It made him think that he'd died but Ken continued and his mini heart attack calmed down.

"Shit, I thought you were going to say he died," Niall admitted outright. Despite all the strife between them all, Niall didn't wish ill on his brothers. Crazy, though, thinking of one of his brothers with a family. Damn. He wondered if the son was a third. Colm the third. If he was going to be a hunter. He would have to be. Legacy. Poor kid. But then if Junior wasn't hunting then... Maybe their father was training him.

"I guess I don't get to be the cool uncle, but I'm sure Dan's doing a good job with that."

"I said they were doing well!" Ken protested. If Junior had died, he would have led with that first, rather than giving Niall the good news and then dumping cold water all over him with the bad. For the most part, all of his brothers were well. Maybe not happy, but Paddy and Junior never really seemed capable of happiness the way that normal people were.

Then again, none of them were normal, who came from legacy hunting families. Even the legacy hunters from these parts were wound up—that or they were insufferable trophy hunters.

"Danny's spoiling him rotten. So you know the kid loves him." And Junior really disliked it, but... he was still good to his son and his wife. Ken met the young boy once, when he had to go back home to settle his parents' estate. He was a nice little one, bright-eyed and good-mannered. Called him Sir and smiled at him with all the innocence of a child.

"...Danny asked about you recently. They all have. Your brothers." Junior and Paddy not as often, but they asked Ken when they learned that he was in the States, the last place that Niall was rumored to have fled to.

"They miss you."

"He'd love me, too, if he knew me!" Niall boasted. He always thought he'd make a great cool uncle. He would be the one his nephews or nieces could come to with pretty much anything without worrying that they'd be reprimanded. Of course, he would be a terrible influence for sure. Like the thing with Cain. He totally would have encouraged him to have a drink with him. Why not? The first drink was special and he wanted to be there for it. Just... he shouldn't have gone and tried to get drunk at the same time, was all.

Niall paused. The question had been stirring for some time--even before he ran into Ken. And now Ken was answering it, probably sensing that the question lingered there. Do my brothers wonder about me? Do they care that I left? Did they come after me? He smiled slightly. Good to know Dan asked about him. He expected as much from him. The rest of it surprised him, though. He side-eyed Ken. Was he just telling him that to make him feel better?

I miss them, too.

"I figured they forgot about me by now." Recently, though. Dan asked about him recently. They missed him. They actually cared. He could have hugged them and kissed them all. Despite the way they acted when they were younger, they were painted now in the rosy light of nostalgia and homesickness.

"Hey," he said, stopping and turning toward Ken. "Did you know I was here?"

"I'm sure he would," said Ken sincerely, knowing how easy it was for people to love Niall. Truly love him, because he had the gift of love in him. He loved people and things passionately—or did, once upon a time. He was genuine in his affections, too, unlike so many that Ken had met in the world, who wore so many masks that even they didn't know who they were inside.

"But I don't need the competition." That was mostly said as an aside, and as a joke. He didn't know for sure, but... a little green fairy told him that he was the front-runner in Niall's eyes. Of course, that might have been simple vanity, but maybe it wasn't.

He sobered up at the thought of Niall's remaining brothers. They missed him and asked about him, and it was clear that time had healed a lot of the wounds that Niall inflicted (however unwittingly) upon them. But there had never been real closure between them. Niall had never gone back to Ireland to fully mend his fractured relationship with them and that was as big of a divide in his relationship with his brothers as the one between him and Ken. There was ten years of making up to do, after all.

"They didn't forget about you. Your parents hadn't either." But Colm Sr. was a different beast from his sons. Ken still felt the anger in him. And the hurt. The hurt fuelled the anger and he had always been a hard man to begin with, and set in his ways. When Niall ran away from home, that seemed to have been the last straw. It hurt him down to the bone; Ken only realized this as he grew up, and grew into an adult.

When Niall stopped, he did too. "No... not here specifically. But I hoped... I searched for you..."

"I think he's the least of your worries, then," Niall said with a wry smile.

Which... was true. Niall didn't even know the boy so he was hardly competition. What Ken had to worry about was much worse than that. JC was the tip of the iceberg. Did he know that? Niall didn't think so and he was a little worried that if he elaborated on that mess, he was really going to send Ken on his way.

"Have you even considered the possibility that I MIGHT have somebody special? HM, Kenny? HMMMMM?" And this was assuming Ken wanted to be that somebody special again. Niall got mixed messages in that regard. Every time he went in close, every time he thought they might really kiss, they didn't. And Niall was pretty sure he'd given Ken more than a handful of chances to go ahead and touch him if he wanted. Kissing, touching, that led to other avenues that Ken just seemed maybe not that interested in exploring anymore.

They were probably just friends, then. Best friends, though.

Niall searched his best friend's gaze for a long moment as a surge of helpless hopefulness swelled in his chest.

"You searched for me!" he said aloud, the thought far too loud to keep to himself. Ken actually searched for him? He probably came after him too far along during Niall's journey to follow the obvious trails he'd left behind but somehow, he'd made his way here, to this little tucked away hick town. (Which admittedly had become a hub for supernatural activity somehow--Niall had no idea what was going on in the scheme of things, but definitely big things.)

Niall launched himself onto Ken, embracing him with all the enthusiasm of a big, delighted puppy.

Ken had considered it. He thought of it with a strange tightness n his chest, that after all this time, Niall was within his grasp but might not be his entirely. They could have been best friends again but that dissatisfied Ken's prudish little heart. In his heart, there couldn't be anyone else.

I'm special, he thought to himself unhappily, though he kept the feelings and the thoughts from his face. Safer to talk about other things, like Niall's family and his own long, fruitless search. The searching led him here, but fate delivered Niall into his hands.

Niall, however, delivered Niall into his arms.

Ken almost fell back, he was so unprepared to be sprung on. His arms slipped easily around Niall and he turned his head to hide the smile into Niall's curly hair. Well. That was a very satisfactory response! Even... amazing! He only wished that he had started earlier. There were signs left behind, but by the time he got to them, he was too late. Always a step or two too late.

But he never stopped searching. And he didn't stop hoping.

"...you can't." Ken kept circling back to it. Someone special. "You can't, Poodles," he muttered beside Niall's ear. "It's no good if we're not together."

Somebody had been looking for him all this time. Ken had been looking for him. He searched. He found! Niall smiled widely as he clung tightly to him. God, he was so real. So, so real. He could feel him in his arms, he could feel arms around him. He could smell him, the scent of his hair, his clothes. Breathing him in, Niall held on and he couldn't erase that stupid childish grin painted on his face.

"You searched for me..." he said again, on a sigh of content, as if his long journey had come to an end. As if he could finally rest easy for once in his life, knowing that one of his biggest anxieties never existed. Somebody cared enough to come after him, even if it took him some time to do it. He laughed, even though tears squeezed from his eyes at the same time. Why did he feel so... so overwhelmed by that revelation? Somebody wanted him enough to look. He buried his face in Ken's shoulder and he closed his eyes.

You can't, he heard, softly against his ear. It confused him enough to make him open his eyes. Can't? Niall turned his head to look at Ken, though they were so close together, his eyes nearly crossed. No good if they weren't together, he said. Niall blinked a few times, befuddled. He reached up to turn Ken's face toward his so they could look one in another in the eyes.

"Can't what? What do you mean, Ken?"

"I had to," said Ken softly, as he felt Niall pressing his face into his shoulder. In turn, he pressed his own face closer to Niall's hair, breathing him in. It was almost like a mania. Like an obsession. Once the idea entered into his mind, he wouldn't let go of it. He had to find Niall at all costs. He had to find him, had to, had to...

But Niall didn't seem to understand what he was saying and Ken didn't know if it sounded too childish to elaborate. He wanted... He just wanted Niall. A simple desire, but for a complicated man trapped in a complicated situation. But he wanted him so desperately that he had searched to the other side of the Earth for him...

Ken looked at him for a few long beats. Earlier, he had wanted to kiss Niall--even when he was being a child about jogging for one block, and accusing Ken of ruining his life by throwing away all of his drugs. Ken told himself that he would wait for the right time. The right time to speak his feelings, eloquently, persuasively, to bring Niall back to him.

But...

He had no words left in him. Ken just leaned in. Their foreheads brushed first, then the very tips of their noses. Then the lips, so softly that it barely counted. But it still did. It was a kiss, innocent and sweet.

To make things right? Was that why? Hm... did he expect to come across this mess when he set out searching for his old friend, his old lover? Somehow, Niall doubted it. With their roles reversed, Niall couldn't even say how he would react if it he had to be the one to drag Ken up off the ground. Niall was so accustomed to being the one dredged up from the mud that it was hard to envision himself as anybody's savior. But he thought he could try it, if it was for Ken's sake.

Ken had grown silent, which meant he was thinking, withdrawing into himself to search for answers. Niall normally just said whatever was at the top of his mind, good or bad. Blurting things out that way had a way of backfiring on him, though. Still, the time it took for Ken to think up a response was unnerving. Was he trying to find a way to lie to him and spare his feelings somehow? From what?

Niall twitched slightly; he was starting to think he should have left things alone. Besides, Ken didn't have to answer any of his questions. He ought to know by now that Niall said a lot of things--dumb things--that he could freely disregard. Deciding the silence was becoming too much for him, Niall started to speak: "You don't have--"

To say anything, he was going to say, but the words were headed off at the pass by Ken leaning in. They had danced this dance before already. Niall didn't move back as Ken kept moving in on him, skin on skin. Nose to nose. Then lips to lips. This was nothing like their first kiss. Although it had been messy and a bit fumbly, their first kiss had been the kind that erupted from young, first time passion. This kiss was so hesitant, as if Ken was asking permission when he certainly never had to in the past.

Funny. Niall felt like he had been on the other end of a kiss like this earlier. Only... he'd been a bit drunk. He was pretty sure. Niall's grip on Ken loosened slightly, hand rising to cup Ken's cheek and stop him from chickening out--if indeed he wanted to. Slowly, he deepened the kiss, stepping into Ken so that their bodies were flush against one another.

Ken didn't want to push things too far beyond their comfort zone. He didn't want to take advantage of Niall's vulnerability and his weakness because he could see that that was what people around him had done. Ken wasn't one of them. He couldn't ever be one of them--the users, the abusers, the takers. He didn't want to be on their level and he didn't want Niall to associate him with any one of them.

When Niall went to deepen the kiss, he let it happen for a brief moment, because he wanted it. He had waited for this and dreamt of this for so long that the desire was nearly ingrained into him by now. Love was a once in a lifetime thing for Ken. Love was his driving force to keep moving even when all the leads had died away to nothing and when it seemed so hopeless that he couldn't possibly fathom finding one single person in all the world.

The softness and the warmth of the kiss was a balm to his own cracked heart and he wanted it to last, but they weren't ready for this. Not yet. He couldn't let this happen because he loved Niall and he wanted what they had to mean something.

So with all the reluctance in the world, Ken pulled away. He let out a quiet sigh and pulled Niall in back close for another hug, in case his actions were mistaken for rejection. It was hard to pull back, with every cell screaming for Niall, but he had to follow logic, too. And logic dictated that they had to learn how to walk again, before they soared in each other's arms.

"...I'm... your someone special. Right?" he asked tentatively, as his heart twisted and clenched. "There's no one else... right?"

It was... it was the sick, wasn't it? It was because he'd been sick, wasn't it? That's why Ken was moving away and breaking the kiss off. But he drank a ton of water after! He was clean! He was... he didn't understand. Another hug followed it, though, which reinforced the thought that it must have been something wrong with the kiss itself. Did Ken not feel the familiar flutter of butterflies? Did he not feel the warmth effusing his chest? The beat of his heart... Ken's heart beat quickly when Niall slid a hand over his chest and it reassured him. Ken felt something.

I don't understand, were the words on his lips but he fell silent as Ken spoke instead. Every little piece of him bent toward that voice, waiting to hear what he had to say. He felt the rumble of his voice as he spoke, the pleasurable thrill that ran up and down his spine every time he felt Ken's hands on him. Could it just be him? Niall nibbled his lower lip, then tilted his head downward.

Huh?

Why...?

Niall's own words flittered back through his mind, challenging Ken. Have you even considered the possibility that I MIGHT have somebody special? Slowly, Niall moved back, hands sliding over Ken's shoulders and holding him at arm's length.

"Kenny," he said in a teasing tone of playful wonder. "Are you jealous? No. No, what's the word..."

Anxious.

Ken was anxious. He hadn't seen evidence of another man yet so jealousy wasn't quite the right word for what he felt, but he definitely didn't feel at ease about the idea of someone else being in Niall's life. And yet, he had to admit the possibility. Niall had been away for ten years. It would be ludicrous to believe that he had stayed true to some teenage romance-gone-wrong.

Ken himself had his fair share of lovers too, although none serious enough to warrant a real long-term commitment. Loneliness and the desire for companionship resulted in several love affairs but he was always on the move and always searching for Niall. They quickly fizzled when it became apparent that Ken's heart was elsewhere.

His heart was here. And it beat rough and hard in his chest as Niall pulled back and put him at arms' length. Niall looked amused but Ken was serious. He was dead serious. Did Niall have someone in his life? Could he kiss that way if he did? Ken's gaze dropped low and his brows furrowed in bemusement.

"...it's not..." funny. Not to him, anyway.

Jealousy wasn't the word. Ken seemed to agree, that or he was trying to say something else. So serious, though. Ken looked upset, which didn't necessarily make Niall feel good about himself. It was just a bit of playful teasing. He'd never seen a jealous Ken before or a Ken that worried that there might be another person in Niall's life. Why should he? Back then, Niall had eyes only for Ken and that was clear as the Irish skies.

There were... lovers, he supposed he could call them, although love was hard to come by. Niall wanted it, probably more than anybody he was actually with. They wanted somebody to scratch their itches until the next good-looking person come along. After a while, Niall stopped expecting anything more than one night stands and delighted when there was more. In the end, he just disappointed himself, though.

"Easy, tiger," Niall said, winding his arms around the back of Ken's neck. "My last boyfriend broke up with me a month ago and it wasn't serious. This might surprise you but... nobody takes me seriously around here. So... you've got nothing to be jealous or worried about."

"I'm not jealous," Ken insisted, because it was true that he couldn't be jealous of someone he didn't know existed for sure. Maybe people didn't take Niall too seriously, but they all took Ken seriously. In fact, they wanted it from him--love. And he couldn't give any of them what they wanted because he was already in love, and that love was as true as the greens of Ireland's hills. Maybe part of him resisted the idea of loving someone other than Niall, too.

He did feel better, however, at the reassurance. So there wasn't anyone. Niall was only teasing because that was what Niall did... and Ken took him seriously because that was what Ken did. It was the same when they were children, and so it was now. Except that there was more than doing someone's homework for a week, or chores, on the line.

After a little moment, Ken smiled. "I haven't anyone either," he confessed--not much of one, though, because Niall probably already knew that. Or did he? He didn't appear worried, at any rate. "I always wanted us to be together, you know," he said softly. "Forever." Circumstances and poor judgment forced them apart but now he was making the choice to stay with Ken and arguably, they were in a much more dire predicament than when they were children.

"Alright, alright." Not jealous. Just... jealous. Niall thought that's what it was because of the seriousness; he needed to know if Niall had a special somebody and if he did, wouldn't he be jealous? Wasn't that the word? Or was it really something else? Disappointment? Devastation? Imagine that: somebody being devastated over Niall for once. It seemed like it was always-always-always the other way around.

"I love you," Niall said, lying on his back in the hotel bed while Tomas opened his soft white robe. Once he heard the words, though, Tomas' hands stopped and he scrutinized Niall.

"Don't say shit like that, Niall."

"Why? I do. I love you."

"You're ruining the mood."

Niall fell silent. Tomas got what he wanted but the entire time, Niall's heart was elsewhere. With Tomas' callous words, the affection had tapered off and now all that was left was that emptiness. Back again. Again. And again. Tomas left when he thought Niall was sleeping and Niall cried, feeling like the crumpled up used condom on the floor.

"I think... I thought we would be," Niall said wistfully. They never said it. Never had the chance to. To say the words my boyfriend. They never got to be themselves in public back then. Niall slipped a lot, though. People usually just assumed Niall was an affectionate person--and he was--but there were those who stared into their souls and Ken never seemed to like that.

Maybe we will be.

Ken didn't give voice to the hopeful thought, as if by simply uttering it, he would forever ruin it. Their love was pure once. It was born out of friendship and it had so many years to take root and to spread. Ken missed those days sometimes, despite living in constant fear of discovery. Some days he only wanted to be young again, without so much regret weighing on his shoulders.

He didn't ask if Niall still loved him. Niall wanted him and Niall needed him, this Ken already knew, but love was a different thing altogether. Ken's own feelings had only deepened in the time that they had been apart, but he was no longer sure about... anything where it came to Niall. That made him anxious, too, though he tried hard not to show it.

Slowly, Ken pulled back and away, out of the clasp of his arms. He took Niall's hand again and resumed walking back to the shabby flat that was now home.

"You should go home and have a hot shower," Ken said, no longer willing to spill his feelings out onto the sidewalk for strangers to step all over. "I can go and buy the stove by myself." Niall still wasn't feeling well and Ken didn't want to drag him around while he did some simple errands. It seemed better for Niall to rest first, and Ken would be home before he knew it.

Ken didn't say that they would be. Somewhat of a disappointment, but Ken was still there. Best friends. Was that all they would be now? Ken probably didn't want to be with some... junkie, that was the problem, wasn't it? That was why he had to clean Niall up. So he could be with him again. Niall wasn't sure what he thought of that but it wasn't entirely positive. It made him feel lesser than, like he wasn't enough the way he was. But then, the drugs weren't the way he was, were they?

Running a hand over his face, he nodded. Yeah. A hot shower. Bath, whatever. He definitely could use some cleaning up. And it would just feel better on his tired face and his aching body. He eyed Ken for a moment but didn't beg him to stay. If he left Niall alone, that meant... Niall was alone. Which meant he could search for what Ken had discarded. It had to be somewhere in the apartment, he just knew it! And if he didn't take too much, Ken would never know the difference. Hah!

"Yeah," he said finally, "I could use a bath."

Niall wasn't really one for showers. He liked soaking in the tub and if he could, he would probably stay there indefinitely. Although that had nearly killed him a couple of times. Best not to share that information with Ken or he'd probably ban him from baths. Niall swung his arm a few times like a child.

"I need my key, though. You have it."

Ken couldn't help but feel that this discussion had ended on a highly disappointing note. Then again, what did he expect? Things wouldn't go back to the way they once were simply because they held hands in the street and kissed once. The kiss was a little bittersweet in light of that thought.

He fumbled around in his pocket for the key and gave it to Niall. "Lock the door while I'm gone. Don't open it for anyone but me, all right?" Hopefully no one would come to visit while Ken was gone. He eyed the building as they came upon it and while he hated the thought of leaving Niall alone, it had to be done. He would just have to be quick.

Ken left Niall at the door, making sure that he was inside and that he heard the lock click before he left. It would be a very quick trip. Stove, pan, some food. Twenty minutes at most.

But he didn't see the door to 3A open after he left, and he didn't see the woman who emerged from inside the apartment, heading straight for Niall's door.

Disappointment reigned as Niall was walked to the door with his key. He glanced up, but Ken waited for him to enter the apartment so there was no tiptoeing somewhere else to beg for a little extra prystal or something. Suppressing the urge to sigh, he entered the quiet flat and made sure to lock the door LOUDLY and POINTEDLY for Ken, who still seemed to be lurking nearby. Once it seemed like he finally left, Niall threw his arms into the air.

"Now where did he hide youuu~?" he sang as he started to pull open drawers, flitting from one to the next. The apartment, as mentioned, was small. There wasn't a whole lot in the way of furniture which also meant the hiding places were sparse as well. Growing somewhat frustrated, he made a beeline for the bathroom, which was the last place he saw Ken before he made his announcement. To save time, he turned the hot water on and let it run--just in case his not-boyfriend showed up and wondered what he was doing, not taking his promised bath.

But he was really raking through the bathroom cupboards and finding... nothing. A whole lot of nothing. Throwing his hands up in defeat this time, he crouched in front of the sink, his face resting against the cupboard door. Well, damn. Ken was thorough, wasn't he? Again, some things just never changed.

Then he felt it seize him. The call~ of a siren. Or, really, a vampire. But a lot of the creatures of the night had these powers--the power to lure people into their traps. He felt it before he heard it but just as surely as he had known last night, he felt her presence and recognized it before the confident tap on the door. Niall swallowed hard, remaining crouched for a moment. But the ITCH it was so unbearable.

He dragged himself up to the sink, ignored his somewhat haggard appearance, and made for the door. He didn't even bother checking the peephole. But he did slide the chain across the door. You know, just in case.

"JC," he said, as though she were an old friend he hadn't seen since... two days ago. "You gotta get out of here."

Fresh blood. Ah, nothing could surpass the excitement of a new face--especially a new human face. JC sensed that something was awry when Niall failed to answer the door for her last night, despite multiple knocks. JC generally didn't go to such lengths to procure a meal--she had boys ready and waiting and oh-so-willing for her bite.

But through the door, she had heard the beat of two hearts. One beat very fast and very hard. There was fear, too, and some other dominant emotion that she couldn't quite grasp. But more to the point--Niall had ignored her for someone else and JC just needed to know who. Then, when she saw him walking away from Niall's door just now...

Just because she was a classy lady didn't mean that she was above peeping through peepholes.

So here she was, at Niall's door again. JC was fond of Niall. He was always up for a good time and he was very reliable in that sense. A smile slowly unfolded across her lips as she tapped a long, red nail against the door.

"Why do I need to get out of here, Niall?" Her voice was dripping with honey. "Are you waiting for that handsome young man to come back? You should introduce me to your new friend, darling. Maybe we'll all get along."

"What handsome young man?" he asked, innocent as could be, although it was obvious by the way JC looked at him and the tone of her voice that she knew he was harboring a handsome new face in his apartment. There was no reason for her to think he was hiding a hunter so she probably just thought he was a new boy toy for her to play with, like... depressingly, pretty much anybody he tried to bring back home to have to himself. Unfortunately, JC was both good-looking and seductive and she didn't have to lift much of a finger to have any number of Niall's lovers wrapped around her pinky.

"Listen," he said, pointing at her through the narrow gap between the door and the wall, knowing all too well that JC could shove the door straight toff the hinges if she wanted to. He stared at her, gathering up all of his six feet to be as imposing and authoritative as possible. "That one's just... for... that one's mine, all right?"

Already weird, right? Shit. He winced inwardly. By saying something stupid like that, he was pretty sure that he just made Ken that much more desirable to her. 1. Niall wasn't really picky about sharing. 2. Niall had never referred to anybody as 'mine' because he wasn't really a proprietary type of guy. 3. And now JC was going to have a go at him and die in the process. (For some reason, it just didn't cross Niall's mind that MAYBE Ken could be overpowered--Ken was Ken. JC was JC.)

Niall sighed and rolled his shoulders before resting his face against the doorjamb (dangerous) and trying to figure out how to shoo JC away without outright saying You're going after a hunter, dear--it's bad news bears! He bit his lower lip and toed the bottom of the old door.

"Believe me, JC, I wish I could say more but you gotta go. He's going to be back soon and you shouldn't be here when he is."

Well, well, well. Little Niall had finally found someone to call his.

On the other side of the door, JC laughed a full, throaty, amused laugh. Sweet little lamb. Curly-haired angel. Blood as sweet as nectar when he was stuffed full of Prystal. Delectable.

"Oh darling, don't tell me you're serious." JC leaned against the side of the door and peered through the narrow gap at Niall's bloodshot eyes. Or, really, eye. Her tone changed to one full of sympathy. "You look tired, dear. Had a rough night?" Mm... one wouldn't have thought that such a handsome young man would be that rough, but appearances could be deceiving. Maybe Niall's new man had peculiar tastes.

"Do you need a little pick me up?"

There was more than one way to skin a cat. JC didn't need Niall's cooperation to gain his cooperation and dear, dear... she was so interested in Niall's new man now.

"Why doesn't anybody ever think I'm serious?" he asked himself mostly. Why couldn't he be serious about somebody? History dictated that he tried to be serious with a lot of his lovers, they just weren't serious back. Or they thought Niall was playing with them because for some reason, nobody found Niall Gallagher to be capable of being serious. Seriously! Sometimes it was quite annoying!

"No!" He raised his good hand to his face, wondering just how awful he looked. "Just hungover, too much of the bloody fairy, that's all."

She probably heard that shouting from last night and thought it was something else, though. Niall almost laughed at the thought of JC thinking a guy like Ken could give him a rough night. Was that where she was heading? Yes, yes. Niall could read it in the way she looked at him, that smile, the light in her eyes.

But the mention of a pick me up... Niall looked behind him for some reason, half expecting Ken to be standing there with a Stern Face. He wasn't of course. Throwing himself at the gap in the door, he said, "Oh god, yes! What do you have?"

"Mmm, poor baby." Through the crack in the door, JC ran a finger along the side of Niall's cheek. Silly thing. Why was he guarding the door like that? He had already invited JC inside, so she had free reign. She could have popped it off its hinges but that required effort--and JC didn't make an effort for just anybody.

At the mention of drugs, however, Niall perked up considerably. JC's smile was Cheshire. She reached into the top of her dress and pulled a small packet from her bra. "Here you are, darling. Enjoy." The beautiful Prystal twinkled with the promise of a good time as she slipped it through the crack to him.

"Plenty more where that came from. Come see me if you need another little pick me up~"

He would. She knew he would. The amount in the bag was enough for a brief, tantalizing taste but not quite enough to last him through the day. JC blew him a kiss and turned away.

Stove... Portable stove... Camping stove... Ken looked through the entire store before he found it, tucked away in an obscure corner. Why the hell did they put this here? It was wedged in between a laundry basket and a stack of towels. Ken frowned as he grabbed it--probably the last one in the store--and with it under his arm, walked quickly to the register.

He knew that it was irrational and daft and... utterly daft, but he felt as if Niall would vanish again if he lost sight of him. Something in him was clawing to get out, a warning or a premonition or some kind of bad feeling stirring deep inside. Ken needed to be with Niall. After ten years apart, he never wanted to be away from Niall again. He wanted his hand to hold and his smile to make him feel warm and youthful again. He even wanted the--okay, less of the complaining. Much less of that.

And maybe one more kiss, like the one they shared outside. Ken couldn't believe that happened, but he was glad that it did. At least Niall felt something for him--enough to kiss him. It was a start--the start of hope, like the seed of friendship that bloomed into something beautiful between them so long ago.

It only took thirty minutes for him to get everything, and he was soon back at the flat with bags in both hands, juggling the stove under one arm. Knocking on Niall's door proved troublesome so he tapped it gently with his foot. "Niall? It's Ken."

He looked up and down the hallway. All quiet, but the hour was still early; he didn't expect most people to be up. His eyes slid to the adjacent doors--3A and 3C--and he listened for any sounds, but there were none. Ken frowned and kicked the door again, a little louder this time.

"Niall?" Was he still in the shower? Ken hoped not; he'd be a right old prune by now. A bath then? But he must have heard the knocking. Ken kicked the door full on when he heard something clattering inside, and then a good five seconds of silence.

"Niall! It's Ken! Niall? Open the door!"

Yes, yes, yes. A little pick me up was just what the doctor ordered. Niall smiled as he hugged the drugs to his chest and then danced his way back into the bathroom. Good timing, too, because the water was getting to the point of no return. Reaching over, Niall strong armed the handle--sometimes, like the front door, it needed to be manhandled--and stopped the flow of water. Humming a sweet little ditty to himself, he tossed a bath bomb into the tub and then, looking around, checking outside the bathroom door, and around the little room that called itself an apartment, Niall made sure he was really alone. And then he sank down onto the toilet seat and slid the prystal under his tongue.

"Ahhh...." He closed his eyes and rolled his head back to take in the pleasure of prystal. Nothing quite like it in the whole world, it being magically infused. The queerest part was, it did something to Niall when he took it. It flecked his eyes with gold. Again, somebody else pointed it out to him and when he checked, he found it was true. Probably something to do with how he saw the world when he was high on prystal.

Letting out a delighted laugh, he stripped his clothes off and leapt into the bath, splashing hot water everywhere. It sloshed over the edge, too, since the water was maybe an inch or two from spilling over before he turned it off.

Sweet smelling, hot water covered him, silky and dreamy. Niall smiled widely as he leaned back and lifted his arms up.

He had no idea how long he bathed but eventually, he sank beneath the water and he was in that dream land that he loved so. He saw swirls of colors when he opened his eyes. His body floated upward. Slowly, his eyes closed and bubbles rose up. And then he breathed in. And in.

Panic overtook him even under the spell of prystal. His body automatically responded to drowning and his arms came up, hands scrabbling over the sides of the tub to pull himself up. Spluttering, coughing, and choking, he leaned against the side of the tub. Unable to breath through the water, he coughed some more, trying to get some air. His arm slammed across various items lined up along the tub and they went scattering. Niall slid out of the tub, slippery and slithery.

Finally, he was able to take in a breath of air--sweet, sweet air--and he inhaled deeply before letting it out on a watery laugh. His eyes had even teared up in the process and he laughed harder, hysterical.

And somewhere outside, he heard pounding. And...

Ken.

Shit, Ken. Niall pulled himself up with the help of the toilet, grabbing his robe and pulling it on as he stumbled out of the bathroom. Everything was still wildly colorful and swaying and he felt like a new pirate aboard a ship, trying to find his sea legs as he made his way to the front door. It felt like he bumped into everything he could possibly bump into on the way but the pounding was getting harder and he was having trouble deciphering--was it his heart or something else.

The door. He grasped at it and it took him a couple of attempts but he finally unlocked it and opened the door. Rubbing his eyes, he slid aside to give Ken room to come inside.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he said, not aware of how many sorries were coming out. "I was just... in the bath." The pounding had stopped. He lowered his hand. "Was that you?" he asked. "Banging? The door?"

Clattering and bumping came from inside and Ken was on the verge of dropping everything to break in, when the door flew open and Niall appeared, dripping water, hair plastered to his skull. Ken stepped inside immediately without answering his questions and his quick eyes darted around. The windows were closed; no sign of forced entry. Door had been locked as he instructed Niall to do before he left.

One of his detectors was whirring, though. It sat in the corner, an old instrument that he had brought from Ireland more as a keepsake than as a functioning tool. Most of Ken's detectors were tuned to supernaturals that were commonly found in America. Different creatures populated different parts of the world; ones that were useful at home in Ireland were largely useless here. But that one, it whirred and whizzed and that baffled Ken.

Maybe it was broken. It was so old; one of his great-grandfather's detectors, as a matter of fact. Probably hadn't withstood the test of time.

Finally reassured that no one had been inside the apartment while he had been gone, Ken dropped off the bags and stove and then turned to Niall. He stopped in his tracks.

"...Niall..."

Niall's eyes weren't right. Ken loved his eyes and he knew them from every facet and angle. The way they changed colors from green to gray and back again was familiar. He recalled laying in the grass together, arms and legs wound about one another, and staring into Niall's eyes endlessly. Ken loved Niall's eyes as much as he loved every other part of him, from the top of his curly dark hair to the tips of his twinkle toes.

Niall's eyes now were flecked in gold; they almost glowed. Ken crossed the room and took hold of his arms, bringing him closer, peering at him. "Did someone come in while I was gone?" Maybe someone Niall invited in? Certain creatures imparted their magic on their victims long after they were gone. Witches' potions, incubi and succubi, and a vampire's bite. Ken's eyes flicked to Niall's throat but the bite marks didn't look renewed.

"Yes?"

Ken was looking at him funny but Niall decided that it was him discovering that they were alone together once more. This time they were actually alone; maybe Ken would be more open to a kiss. So Niall smiled and started to hold his arms out for a hug. Except Ken grasped his arms and kept staring at him, pulling him in closer. Niall's smile grew. Just as he took in a breath and began to speak, Ken asked if somebody had been inside and his stare become more of a laser trying to see inside his soul. Niall tilted his head just slightly, a crack in his smile.

"What?" He laughed. "No. Nobody's been inside. I made sure everything was locked, even the... that little..." He made a motion as if he were chaining the door, unable to find the appropriate word for it at the moment. "You know, the other lock. All the locks were locked, Kenny. Nobody in here but us..."

Now he drew his arms up around Ken's shoulders, drawing him in even closer. Nobody the two of them. His fingers stroked the back of Ken's white blond hair before he leaned in for a kiss.

Niall was acting funny and his eyes were glowing. Ken couldn't comprehend what was going on and his bemusement didn't seem to affect Niall. In fact, Niall seemed... relaxed. Too relaxed. A little giddy and a little out of it, and his words sometimes slurred into each other. Ken opened his mouth to ask whether Niall heard any noises, then, but his words were cut off abruptly.

This time, he didn't kiss back, although it would be a lie to say that he wasn't affected by the feel of Niall's hands against his hair, or that he didn't instinctively want to draw him close. Ken pulled back and shook his head. "Niall, stop. Stop it. You're--" Drunk, he wanted to say. Yes, Niall was acting tipsy, but there was no alcohol on his breath.

There was something else on his breath, though. Something sweet and cloying--something that Ken had tasted before, when he was exposing himself to the supernatural drugs in this area. His hunter contacts had told him about a drug that was being shuttled out of Hazleton; everyone tasted the tiniest bit of it, just to know what they were dealing with. He hadn't taken enough to gain the full effect, but even then Ken felt its power.

Ken gently held him at arms' length. "Niall. Did you take anything while I was gone?"

If nobody had come inside then the only logical explanation to Niall acting strange would be drugs. Ken knew of drugs that witches and the like made here. Even some faes contributed, sprinkling in the dust from their wings to produce potent magical concoctions. That might explain the eyes--some drugs produced by magical means manifested in strange ways.

Stop? Stop? Why stop? Niall didn't understand what Ken wanted from him. First he showed up and he played with his feelings and said he thought they'd be together forever but he didn't let Niall kiss him properly. And he wouldn't stop with the momming, constantly on Niall for doing whatever he wanted--but Niall was old enough to make his own choices! Whether that meant kissing somebody or taking a little boost to get him through the hangover, why did it have to matter so damn much to Ken?

He didn't like being held at arm's length or being questioned or accused. He stared at Ken, clearly hurt that he would even ask him such a question! Niall huffed and moved away, ducking from Ken's arms and prancing toward the couch bed, where he dropped down, not even caring that his robe swung open in the process.

"Yes, Ken, if you must know," Niall said, pressing an arm over his forehead and looking at him in amusement. He laughed. "I took something." He crossed an ankle over his knee. "I took a bath. S'why I'm all wet." He ruffled a hand through his wet hair. "More importantly, you should be asking Niall, do you feel better? Because the answer is a resounding yes. I feel a lot better after my bath, Kenny, thanks for asking."

"I'm--"

Ken watched Niall suddenly wrench himself away and in the back of his worried, troubled mind, he felt Niall's absence from his arms acutely. But more pressing to the situation at hand was the drug working its way through Niall's veins. It was drugs. Ken must have missed something in his early morning purge. Someone enterprising like Niall probably had it stashed away somewhere and Ken hadn't caught it. A vent? A spot under the couch bed that he hadn't seen? Inside some innocuous container?

His eyes dropped to the open robe but he said nothing. He let Niall have his say, sounding hurt and offended, and it was true--Ken didn't ask how he was, or if he felt better. Ken had been worried sick that someone might have come in to prey on him and hurt him. Ken was frantic inside at just the thought of Niall in pain or Niall suffering.

"I'm sorry," he said softly after Niall had finished, walking over to the couch bed and sitting on it beside him. "Please, don't... don't be angry. I was worried. I thought that woman from last night might have..." Ken ran a hand over his face as he lowered his head. His fingers slid into his hair and he dragged his nails along his skull, to the back of his head where he clutched at his own hair in agitation.

Niall was high again, and there was no point arguing with him until he came back down from the skies. Ken turned to him and gently pulled the robes closed around his waist. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Niall."

Turning his head toward Ken as he sat down, Niall let out a soft sigh, then reached out for him hesitantly. Then he lightly stroked his back, since that was what he could reach. He'd rather caress a thigh or pet his head but this was about it from his current vantage point.

"She did," Niall said after a moment. He closed one eye and made a quiet crossbow thunk sound. Ken hit it right on target, uncannily. How did he manage to do that? Duh, right. Hunter. Maybe he sensed her. Maybe that detector that went off tattled. "She did try to come in but I kept the chain on the door so she couldn't come in."

He said it like a child waiting to be praised for his good deeds. Look at him, good Niall, not letting the vampire in for a good time! And if Ken needed proof, he could take another look at his throat, which was healing nicely, thank you very much.

"And I thank you, for thinking of me." He didn't even notice his state of undress even as Ken closed the robe in his prude way. Ken had always been like that, as far back as Niall knew him. How two people as different as the two of them had ever become friends, let alone fallen for one another, who could tell? Still lightly stroking Ken's back, he asked, "What are you so afraid of, Kenny?"

"What?!"

Ken lifted his head abruptly to stare at Niall. But Niall said that no one had come inside and... Ah. He didn't let her in. The revelation was a huge relief but Ken's heart didn't stop thudding for a good twenty seconds afterwards. That damned leech, she had tried to get to Niall again while Ken was away. In the span of only half an hour, this happened.

"Thank God," Ken sighed as he reached for Niall, grabbing him in a tight hug. Niall was fine. He was okay, except for the drugs. The marks on his throat were healing and that woman hadn't gotten what she wanted from him. Small victories. Small victories, but important progress.

But while Niall's hand at his back was soothing, his question was unnerving. Ken turned his head into Niall's damp hair. He breathed him in, the sweet, clean scent of the bath bomb. There was so much that Ken, the fearless legacy hunter, was afraid of. So much that he held close to his heart, bottled away inside.

He was afraid that he would wake up one day and Niall would be gone again. He was afraid that if he left again, Niall would no longer be with him when he returned. That he would find Niall sprawled on the bed or in the bathtub, overdosed on drugs, pale and unresponsive. He was afraid that Niall didn't love him as much as he loved Niall. He was afraid that his past actions would always present itself as a wedge between them. He was so, so afraid that he would fail.

"I'm afraid to lose..." Ken swallowed. They were alone again, finally. "To lose the only person I love."

What? What? Oh. The JC thing. Niall found himself pressed into a tight hug quite unexpectedly but it wasn't unwanted. He smiled as he was embraced. See, he did the right thing. He just... didn't tell Ken that she happened to sneak him a little something when she came by. That would be his little secret, especially since if he prattled on about how he got to this point, Ken might go kill her and wasn't there enough violence in the world without Ken beheading one of his dealers?

Now he made inane shapes against Ken's back as they embraced and he settled his cheek down against Ken's shoulder. What was Ken so afraid of? It was a bigger question than his high little mind could even fathom and yet he asked it because it seemed so... simple. Ken was obviously afraid of something. There was panic in his tone, in the beat of his heart, in the crease between his brows. Something was definitely riling him up but it seemed like it had been there since the moment they reunited.

"Mhm..." He hummed, urging Ken to finish his sentence. He was afraid to lose--yes, Niall knew that Ken liked to be Mr. Perfect. Not that he necessarily minded coming in second or whatever but he definitely had super high standards he seemed to force himself to live up to. Standards that had been created by his parents, no doubt. Niall knew a little about that, although he had since thrown away the need to live up to his parents' standards.

What Niall didn't know what to do with was that last part. The only person he loved? Niall felt the words profoundly but he wasn't sure if he fully grasped them in his current state. Blinking, he lifted his head and stared at Ken. Hands moved up to take Ken's face in his hands. It could be anyone but Ken was here and he was worried and he was constantly hounding Niall to clean up his act.

"Me?" he asked, still somewhat surprised even as he said the word and yet still, hopeful. He wanted them to be together forever when they were younger.

"Someday, we'll get out of here," Niall said, kicking his feet through the water as he sat on the bank of the lake. He curled his toes in and out. "We can go see the sights. Instead of goats and sheep, we'll see punk concerts and dance at big gala events together."

The two things were very different but he figured, so were they as a couple. He slid his hand over Ken's and leaned against him.

"We can get couple tattoos!" He laughed and kicked out at the water before winding his foot around Ken's ankle. "What do you say to that?" He turned toward Ken to peck him on the lips, smiling. "I can design them. Black sheep, white sheep. Black sheep, white goat. The real mascots of Dingle, Ireland."

Without removing his hands, he leaned forward, so their noses brushed and their foreheads touched. "If it's me, I'm not going anywhere. See? I'm right here with you."

"You."

No one came close to Niall. Ken could never forget the swoop in his stomach when he first met Niall in that big old manor, when out of all five boys lined up in a row like soldiers, Niall was the only one who beamed at him. He couldn't forget the shine in Niall's eyes as they stared at the stars together--as Niall looked into the heavens with that faraway look in his eyes, and Ken focused only on the shape of his profile and the tilt of his nose and the curve of his lips as he spoke of wondrous, strange, marvelous, absurd things.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Niall. In pleasant dreams he saw them together, laughing and running carefree and barefoot over the grassy green hills of their home. In nightmares he saw Niall as he saw his parents, laying pale and cold, drained of life. Lately, there were so many more nightmares than dreams. Lately, he felt something ominous looming over him like a storm cloud and he didn't know what to do with that feeling. It frightened him, this invisible foe preying on him.

"You. Only you. Always, always you." Ken's hands slid up to cup Niall's cheeks. His fingertips curled inwards just slightly, exerting faint pressure to keep him in place, but also to feel him. Really feel him, the damp of his curls and the warmth of his skin. Ken closed his eyes because a terrible heat was building behind them and he didn't want Niall to see it.

"I can't lose you again. Maybe you're here now but... but... What if the drugs and the... the vampires, they... " He pressed his lips together and breathed in deep to calm himself. Ken was supposed to be the composed one and the good little soldier. He was taught to keep his emotions at bay, to always use knowledge and wisdom to guide his words and actions.

But he kept seeing it. The nightmarish scene playing out before him in his sleep. Niall laying on the ground, limbs splayed. Dead. Niall, dead, never to laugh or smile or tease him again.

"Why do I have to be a goat?!" Ken laughed indignantly as he lightly bonked his forehead against Niall's. He didn't think he wanted to go to a rock concert much and his da would absolutely murder him if he ever got a tattoo. He was happy here. Here with Niall, in their secret swimming hole, all alone. He liked the feel of Niall's hand against his and he liked the way that Niall looked at him like he was the only person on Earth worth looking at.

"I don't want to be anything but... yours." It was cheesy, a totally hammy thing to say, but in that moment he believed it. Ken leaned in this time and pecked Niall on the lips. "And you can't be anything but mine. Deal?"

"I don't know how to love anybody else, Poodles."

"Hey, hey. You're not. I'm here, just like I said. No vampires, no drugs."

Well, maybe a little in the way of drugs but a tiny bit of prystal wasn't going to kill him or take him away. If anything, it made it easier to be close to Ken like this. Every touch was that much more pleasurable and even the sound of Ken's voice caressed his ears and sent a thrill down his spine. He closed his eyes and smiled, enjoying Ken's hands on him, letting his face warm to his touch. After a moment, he ran his hands over Ken's wrists, although it was slightly awkward with that damned cast he kept forgetting about.

"Niall?"

When Niall didn't answer, the front door opened. Words couldn't move through his numb tongue and he could see Jordan's sneakers when he entered, upside down where he was lying on the ground beside the couch bed. At some point, he fell off and he couldn't get up. His body didn't want to do anything and even when it did manage to move, it wasn't of Niall's own accord.

"Jaadaan..."

The name barely slipped past his lips as he stared up at him, eyes filled with tears. Jordan immediately rushed to his side and grabbed his arm to check his pulse.

"JESUS H CHRIST, Niall!" Jordan's eyes widened. "You barely got a pulse!"

He started to twitch when he tried to reach up. His vision went white.

When he woke up, he was in a hospital. Niall slowly opened his eyes to find Jordan flipping through some magazine where he sat beside him. When he saw Niall's eyes had opened, he immediately stood up and called for a nurse, then looked back over at Niall.

"Don't say anything," he pleaded, just before a nurse came in to check his vitals.

He stroked Ken's hands. Death. Ken was afraid Niall was going to take that final kiss of death and he didn't even know what Niall had been through. Somehow, he just knew. Niall wondered if he felt it, wherever he was. Did he feel it when Niall was dying? Did he feel it when Niall was so sad that he wanted to die?

"You don't have to," he told Ken. And Niall didn't have to try loving anybody else, either. It could just be them again, just like when they were young. Only now they had freedom to do what they wanted. They could hold hands in public. They could hug, kiss, stare all they wanted. And Niall knew Ken stared because Niall stared, too.

"You don't have to," he said again. "Do you know how long it took me to forget you?" He lowered his voice. "And how many people I called Kenny on accident?"

That was a lie.

There were vampires and there were drugs.

There was a vampire in the room next to theirs and there were drugs swimming through Niall's veins, making his eyes glow, tainting his breath with the sweetness of dark magic. Ken shook his head in silence because he couldn't believe Niall in that moment, when he lied to his face. When they were staring at each other, green-gray eyes into blue, and all that fell from his lips were lies.

But Ken didn't blame him; he couldn't blame Niall. It was the drugs that made him this way, and his own addiction. Ken knew a little something about addiction because what he felt for Niall felt an awful lot like it: that itch under his skin, the insidious crawling creeping craving just below the surface, for ten years. A decade of withdrawal and pain and agony, every second that stretched on like a mile, were signs of an addiction that he was hopeless against.

He shook his head and Niall's eyes shifted, from green to gray to gold to green again. Ken's vision swam for just a moment. His breath came up fast, ragged, but he was also relieved. That wasn't a lie, was it? Niall could lie about the vampires and the drugs but he wasn't lying about that--about his own lingering feelings. It was in the eyes--it was always in the eyes. The beautiful, magical, entrancing eyes that held Ken within their thrall the moment--the split, infinitesimal second--that they were first introduced.

And Niall couldn't forget him now. Not now, when Ken was right in front of him. Niall didn't need to call anyone else by Ken's name because Ken was right here.

"Together?"

Ken was nervous; he had never done anything like this before. When he thought of swimming, he thought of the community center and the crowded pool where his father taught him how to swim. It would save his life one day, he said.

Knowing how to swim was only one of many activities that Ken had throughout the day, after school concluded. He had lessons in swimming, fencing, archery and shooting. He learned self-defense and practiced martial arts. He pored over his father's tomes on the supernatural and practiced tuning the fine instruments that would detect any magic around them.

But Ken had never done this before. He swallowed hard, nervously clinging to Niall's hand. The lake looked deep. Not fathomless, but he couldn't see the bottom of it at the center, and it was cold. He looked over at Niall and something in Niall's smile gave him strength. "Together, right?" Ken asked again, and nodded as Niall nodded.

"Okay, on three. One... two... threeeeeeeee!"

"The drugs... the vampires... they can't love you back, Niall." Maybe Niall was too high to comprehend his words, but Ken had to get them out now. Something in Niall's eyes and smile, fuzzy as they both were, gave him strength. Being with Niall had always made him bolder, more fearless, more open to life in all of its glory.

"I can." He kissed Niall in desperation, pressing their lips together fervidly. "Only I can love you back. And I need you, Poodles. I need you to love me more than you love them."

"I know that, silly."

Vampires were not lovers. They were monsters. Since he was old enough to comprehend the words coming out of his father's mouth, Niall heard all about how nasty the monsters were. In all honesty, the stories scared him and gave him all manner of nightmares. The things he was taught when he was so young... Niall didn't think they should have been taught at that age. But what did he know? After all, he was just the child living in torment. The old man was the father, who supposedly knew best for his children.

Strange how Ken rebuffed his advances but now Ken was the one holding desperately to him. Niall closed his eyes to revel in the moment, smiling despite how sad he felt deep inside. There were holes inside of him, ragged, unhealed holes that Niall had nursed with rushed relationships, with sex and drugs, with passive suicide attempts. Niall's eyes remained closed as he held Ken close.

"Is that what's wrong?" he asked, voice low, as if somebody was listening through the walls. "I don't love those things, Ken. I just... need them to erase what I don't want to remember." He laughed, self deprecating as he finally leaned back and his fingers brushed against Ken's warm lips. "But it seems like the harder I try to suppress things, the harder they fight back to be remembered." His gaze fell away. "In nightmares, mostly."

"I know."

Maybe Niall loved what they could do for him; their ability to drown out the voices and the memories and to put a band-aid on the scars. But the wounds were still there, still festering beneath the surface. That wouldn't change, no matter how many vampires he sought or how many pills he popped.

Ken took a hold of his hand, lowering it from his lips. Niall had been alone, all the way out here, separated from his family and from his home. He had to face his demons all alone and he couldn't cope with them. No one could possibly blame him, a young man cast out of his home, bewildered and isolated. There was no support for them back then. Ken retreated and distanced himself and there was no one left when Niall needed someone to lean on. So he turned to vices--drugs, drink, the scavengers who took advantage of him at his weakest moments.

But he wasn't alone now, was he?

"I'm here now. You don't have to... suppress all of it. I can help you work through it, Poodles." He laced their fingers together and leaned closer, eager to help--desperate to help and desperate to make up for the mistakes of the past. "Together, right? We did everything together. We can do this, too."

There were nights when the nightmares were more real than he cared to admit. Those were the nights when he couldn't get back to sleep and he wouldn't even bother trying. Instead, he'd pull on something to wear and he'd go out. Sometimes he'd try JC's place, sometimes Jordan's. Depending on the time of night, they may or may not be home to answer. If not them, then Niall went out on his own, looking for any others that would be willing to sell him something, spend some time with him, anything--anything--to make it all stop for a while.

Something told him there would be a lot less of that with Ken staying at his place. If anything, Ken seemed like he wanted Niall to come to him instead. But what then? Ken didn't have anything to offer in the way of drugs or mind numbing supernatural skills. But... he did have the advantage of being Kenny. Long lost BFF. Long lost almost-boyfriend. Long lost everything, in a way.

Niall took in a breath and he drew a knee up to rest his chin against. Their fingers laced together did feel nice. Extra nice under the influence of prystal. Niall closed his eyes and he smiled.

"Together," he echoed. A part of him didn't know if it was true--that they could get through it together. But it was something that hadn't been tried. And in truth, Ken was part of his trauma so maybe... maybe if they mended things... He slid his eyes open and slowly peered in Ken's direction.

"I'm actually high right now," he confessed, since he'd lied about it earlier and he was naive enough to believe Ken didn't notice. (Yes, he thought he was THAT good at disguising it.) "But I really didn't let JC in. The vampire. Promise."

"I know," Ken sighed as he slid higher up on the bed to sit side-by-side with Niall, resting against him. Even in this, their bodies seemed to fit. Arm against arm, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Nothing sexual in the way that they were close, but they felt intimate.

"I'll have to tell you everything again when you're sober."

He smiled at Niall, however—a cheeky little lopsided grin. Maybe Niall would remember everything. Maybe he would only remember a portion. Hopefully the part where Ken confessed to loving him would make it. He wasn't the type to be effusive with the words, but his feelings managed to show themelves in actions. At least, he hoped so.

He thought that he had come a long way from the repressed, shy boy of long ago. The murky waters of adolescence had long since cleared into maturity and Ken was no longer bound by that terrible, consuming fear of discovery. After all, they had been discovered; the people to whom it mattered already knew. Dealing with the aftermath was difficult, but so was hiding who he was—even from himself.

"We'll take it slow. One day at a time, all right?" He tipped his head towards Niall and rested it against his, blond hair mingling with brown. The black sheep and the white... goat. But Ken preferred white knight.

"Everybody misses you, Niall." He flexed his fingers against Niall's hand, stroking the back of it absently, gently. "But I missed you the most. Finding you... that was what kept me going."

"Nuh-uh..." He denied that Ken knew but he didn't actually care if he knew or not. Everything felt so good. Blissful. His eyes kept half closing and he smiled at nothing and Ken at the same time. It was nice, being close to Ken again. It was nice just being close to somebody without knowing that it was going to go somewhere sexual. Not that Niall minded having sex but there was something comforting in knowing that being close to him didn't only hinge on being sexual. It made him feel little again, although not back when it was him and Ken, but back when he was really, really little, when his mother still sang to him and he still curled up against her in her big chair and she told him stories while she threaded her fingers through his unruly hair.

Sober. He slightly wrinkled his nose at the mention of sobriety but he said nothing for or against it. For now, he was in his happy place, doped up, close to a warm body. He didn't need anything else in life. Just arms around him and a head against his. Speaking softly. Something about slow. Something about one day at a time. Niall made some kind of agreeable humming sound in response.

It didn't seem real, that people missed him. For so many years, he fretted over how little his family cared that he had gone without warning. He hurt himself thinking over and over again--why didn't they find this evidence, that evidence, this trail or that trail? Was he not obvious enough? Were they not good enough? No, that definitely it wasn't that. So of course, that dark, ugly demon inside told him that nobody cared. That he had been right; they were living an easier life without him. Ken, too. Ken especially.

And now Ken was saying that he missed him the most, that finding him was his mission.

"I forgot how to keep going." Even now, this wasn't moving forward, was it? It was just Niall still in the same place, in every way. Emotionally, physically, mentally. He didn't know how to keep going. Not in any practical sense. And he didn't know how to find a purpose in life. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost all sense of that, of even being a person. Mostly it was just a dreamer that occasionally woke to an ugly world and then went back to the dream world, where everything felt warm and snug. Just like right now.

Ken had always heard the saying that you never knew what you had until it was gone, but he didn't understand the scope of it until Niall truly disappeared. He didn't know what he expected when all hell broke lose and their lives were completely upset, but he never thought that Niall would run away. Not just out of Dingle, but out of the country altogether.

"Niall's gone."

Ken stared at Danny, uncomprehending, as Danny paced around and around the room with his hands in his hair.

"He's gone, Ken. Run away from home. Nobody knows where he is and dad he... He won't let us look for Niall."

Ken still stared. What... did that mean? What did running away entail? Gone? Gone? He shook his head, each movement jerky and robotic. "Wha...t?" he asked at last, as his thoughts finally caught up with what Danny was trying to tell him.

"Gone!" Danny had never seemed this frazzled before. He usually took things easy; he wasn't the type to get riled up over nothing. Maybe that made things so much worse. It drove the point home more clearly than his words did.

"Gone... He... he's gone?" The chair that Ken was sitting in clattered as he shot up suddenly. All the world rushed back and it felt like it rushed back straight into his ears, creating a pulsing, deafening roar. "He can't be... gone! We have to find him!"

"We can't! Dad says he'll come back in a few weeks but..." Danny looked unsure. He bit down on his lower lip and stopped pacing, but he looked every bit as disturbed as Ken felt.

Slowly, Ken sat back down. "But he can't be. I just--I just saw him yesterday..."

It felt like just yesterday that Niall left, and Ken was stranded in a town where everyone knew what he was and hated him for it. He should have run away with Niall. He ought to have packed his bags and tried to look for him when the trails were fresh. Ken was an able hunter--one of the best. He could have caught up with Niall.

But he was still afraid; still young. Ken waited for weeks, months, hoping that Niall would return and when he didn't, it felt as if a part of him shriveled up and collapsed in on itself. The wreckage of a friendship, of a budding relationship, left a hole in his heart and he didn't know how to cope. The days ran into one another and the longer that he waited, the larger the yawning hole grew, and the more frantic his desperation grew until he--snapped. And he did pack his bags, against his parents' wishes. Against Colm Sr.'s wishes.

Ken lowered his head against Niall's shoulder. "Me too." They existed. Both of them existed in some kind of private hell, separated and alone. Ken forgot how to live and Niall forgot how to keep going. It was impossible to recover the past but it didn't seem impossible to reach for a better future when they were together like this.

"We'll learn together." One day at a time. One moment at a time.