We Are Bulletproof

Wary of the machine and its rumbling and shaking, Cain was all too glad to move away from it—but only after Minh began to move away from it too. He clutched his rosary close and sank down onto the bench with his head lowered to study the tips of his dirty runners. There was a funny little hole on the side of it; when he wiggled his foot, he could see a socked toe peeking out.

He did keep an ear open to what they said, though. Slowly, he lowered the rosary and studied it. It was new, shiny and pretty—one of the things he bought at the arts fair not long ago. "...for you..." Then he laid it gently across Minh's leg—the one closest to him—and went back to looking at the hole in his shoe. Minh wasn't asking him what he was doing here, but that was why he came.

God told him...

God said to him in a dream.

Minh needed that cross more than he did. Temptation was everywhere. Sin was everywhere—even in this room. The town was steeped in darkness and Cain knew it better than anyone; he sensed it with the gift that God had given him. He was here, today, for a reason and he couldn't leave until he had carried out His word and His will. It just had to be so and Cain was a faithful messenger, a loyal follower. When he saw a light that shone its way through the darkness, no matter how dulled and how tired and weary that light was, he had to save it.

Cain moved as one with Minh to the nearest washing machine, like his miniature shadow. He was good at that—blending in, becoming background furniture. But he helped! He handed Minh a sock that had fallen out of the hamper and fed him articles of clothing to be put into the large metal contraption. Cain knew what it was but he had never used one before. Back home, it was washing boards, tin tubs and lines strung up between tree branches. Cain's job was to take in the washing and fold it and put it all away—useful skills in the back woods, but not so much here in a world of machinery and technology.

As introductions were handed out, he kept silent. Cain's name held a particular brand of taboo with those of faith; the story attached to it wasn't a pretty one and sometimes he felt self-conscious about it. If only he had been named Peter or Paul... His mother used to say, in that cold and detached tone of hers, that he would one day live up to his name.

The devil was inside of him, she said, and that was why she gave him his name.

"I'm Cain." He directed that to the ground, in his barely-there whisper. Then, as a nearby machine shuddered violently into its spin cycle, he started and scooted closer to Minh, eyes wide as he stared at the contraption. That thing was possessed! Cain's free hand went to his worn messenger bag and he pulled out a small string of beads, at the end of which was a wooden cross.

Just... just in case the devil was in that thing.

Whew! Now that the man was covered up some, Cain felt it safe to emerge. Slightly. He still held on to Minh's wrist and he still stayed behind him, but Cain peeked out and offered up a slow-forming, gentle smile. God didn't direct him to do anything--the voice inside was quiet--so Cain knew that this wasn't one of those lost lambs that needed his help.

But Minh...

After their last encounter, Cain received a Message. That was why he was here--he had a reason for coming.

However, Cain didn't immediately respond to the man's question. He wasn't comfortable around strangers, though Minh was a stranger, but... but not really a stranger. It was complicated! If Isaiah were here, Cain would have spoken through him. Since Isaiah was nowhere around, he tugged on Minh and said, in a voice barely loud enough to hear, "Tell him I'm from England, please."

There was a saying that God was always watching but... Cain hoped that He wasn't watching right now. With his eyes obscured by the holy bible, Cain was spared another glimpse of the other man's indignity. His nervous babbling, however, only made the situation worse somehow. Cain was by no means an innocent child but he didn't see other men naked all the time, either. Not in this day and age, anyway, not unless one purposely sought them out (which Cain emphatically did not).

"It's okay..." He shifted slightly closer to Minh, and then ducked behind him to use him as cover. The bible went down as Cain effectively hid behind him, tentatively reaching out to latch onto his wrist for safety This was probably not going to make Isaiah--his brother--happy. All those warnings about sinful folks out here and the inherent danger of these strange townspeople had fallen largely onto deaf ears but Cain was starting to regret coming out here alone.

"Um. Do you want me to get you a-a bigger towel?" The hotel management had to have larger towels that could wrap around a person better. Cain didn't know any place that only gave out hand towels to their guests.

"So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body..."

Cain closed the small study bible in his lap and breathed out slowly, letting the passage sink in fully as the old, rickety bus trundled slowly towards its destination. He glanced up through the grimy window, then down at the slip of paper wedged between the pages of the bible. Giving a start, he yanked on the stop cord and eased into the aisle, and finally hopped briskly off the bus after it came to a full stop.

He let out another breath, but this time a nervous and shaky one. The address was right; this was the place. It was one of two hotels in town, the other being the Moonlight Inn which was now closed. Cain ventured forward a step, then backwards one, then forward. He worried his lower lip as he slid into the brightly lit lobby and... then he realized that he had no plans extending beyond this point. Would he sit in the lobby and wait? Or wander around until he somehow bumped into the person he was looking for?

Cain gripped his bible tightly between both hands. God would lead him. Yes. He placed himself in the hands of God and... sooner or later he would find him! He set off down an arbitrary hallway, sneakily bypassing a locked door because someone was exiting from the other side. Cain was smiled at benignly by a woman; he ducked his head shyly and avoided her gaze. Wandering around and around, eventually he came upon a new corridor and—gasp! A glimpse of a familiar figure!

"Minh!" Cain hurried down the hall and just as he turned into a room marked laundry, he skidded to a halt. "Oh!" The bible flew up like a physical shield and Cain hid his eyes behind it as his face flamed red. Who—who did laundry naked?!

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!"

"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..."

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.

"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.

"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!"

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.

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."

"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?"

"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 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?"