February 1446 Prague, Kingdom of Bohemia

It was an easy silence, one they'd shared hundreds of times before. The only sound was the scrape of a knife on a plate. Abel eating after Waking, looking tired. His poor Abel was so tired lately, that Apple of his gave him so much trouble and annoyance sometimes. Cain looked at him with a wry smile, "Good job on that," he said, only slightly sarcastic.

Abel looked up at him, his eyes hooded, he said nothing. He looked in one of his moods. Damn kid acted too old for his own good sometimes. Cain knew better. He was just a kid, still getting a feel for this sort of life, these sorts of deaths. The time before Cain had found him in Cairo didn't count. He'd been lost then, a rough cut stone. Cain had put him in his pocket and polished him up as best he could. Still had some work to do on that though.

"Don't give me that look," Cain frowned deeply at him. Abel just continued to eat.

Cain picked himself up and went over to behind his brother and crossed his arms across the top of his head and leaned on him. "What is it now?" he asked. Abel just made an annoyed noise. "C'mon, tell me."

"Get off," and Abel pushed him off.

Cain stared at the back of Abel's head, confused. What was with him? He wasn't usually so moody, even after Waking. He leaned down, put his arms around his shoulders, head next to his. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing, get off," Abel pushed him again.

"No. Tell me," Cain insisted, squeezing him. "Its better to just come clean than to fight me, you know that," he said.

"Fuck off. Get off," Abel shoved him and Cain let him go. But he didn't understand.

He went around to his front and crouched next to the table Abel was eating at, "Did I do something?" he asked, honestly confused.

Abel's amber eyes were sharp when they practically glared at him. Abel had so many sharp edges sometimes, too things far too seriously. Centuries had passed and his brother was still so sharp, too sharp. Cain still hoped those corners would round off like his had so just brushing against people wasn't painful. He knew how angry Abel was at those weak, normal, mortals, how much he hated them. Hated them because they could do the one thing he couldn't: die. He didn't understand why Abel wanted to die. They were literally made in the image of the gods, eternal, unable to stay sick, and came back from death, nothing could stop them.

All of Abel's sharp edges came from that though Cain chided himself. He'd been the same way, before finding peace in his gift. He'd been angry and bitter and hateful and sharp all over. Abel would round out eventually.

He hoped so anyway.

"No," Abel said.

"Then why are you angry with me?" Cain asked, drumming his fingers on the table top.

Abel's gaze was hard, like he was trying to cut Cain with his eyes, "You will though," he said.

"What?" Cain asked.

"The Apple… I saw the future," he said.

Cain blinked, "Really? That's amazing! What did you see?" he asked eagerly. Personally he didn't bother with those toys anymore. Not worth his time. They'd given him this gift and he left them alone. Abel was obsessed with them. But he was a man of long burning passions, hate, and love, and it was all so adorably mortal.

Cain knew it wasn't worth it, everything you could love or hate would one day die. He didn't love, he didn't hate, he was a shapeshifter who took on the role the world needed at the time. He'd known, befriended, and loved, saints. He'd led armies. He'd courted princesses and princes alike with a cunning tongue. He'd explored the unknown worlds both old and new. He'd sacrificed himself… countless times for those who needed him and watched those who did and didn't deserve it burn and die. But they all shriveled up and died in the end. There was no point in loving or hating something so strongly as Abel did.

Except him of course. Abel was forever, like him. And he loved him. That was the only word for it. He felt delight when Abel was around like he hadn't in centuries before, and grew warm when he managed to make the serious man smile. It was a brotherly love sure, but Cain loved him with ever ounce of his ability. He'd give everything to see his brother happy too.

"I saw you," Abel said, "You did… a bad thing," he said.

Cain frowned, "What did I do?"

"You killed a lot of people," he said.

Cain frowned deeper, "But we do that," he reached out and grabbed his brother's wrist lightly. "We're warriors, we sometimes kill people."

"Do you enjoy it?" Abel asked.

"No," Cain said, he didn't enjoy much. It was all so much the same, an endless blandness that all swirled together into endless days, everything blurring into itself. Cain had a good memory, but rare was the event that marked itself in his memory. Finding Abel in Cairo was one of those times.

"The killing I saw you do. You were enjoying it," Abel said. "And you told me you were bored, and it was entertaining. You were killing women."

Cain's face was slack, "I would never," he said.

"I saw you do it," Abel said.

"No you didn't," Cain scowled. "You saw a scenario that could happen. I haven't done anything. When is this supposed to happen?"

"In a few hundred years," Abel admitted.

Cain snorted, "That's a long way away, brother," he offered Abel a smile. Abel didn't smile back. "Don't concern yourself with it so much. The future isn't set in stone. You know that. Whatever you saw was a dark future."

Abel blinked at him, his mouth tight. "It was the only one I saw," he said. "I remember, before I killed myself under the strain. I was looking for him-" ah yes, Abel's allusive hero. He didn't know the man's name, or what he looked like. But he knew when he'd be born, what year. He knew where and when he'd find him. "So many possibilities," he continued, his voice sounding far off. "And you killed all those women in every. Single. One."

Cain frowned, "Why would I do that?" he asked, "You know I don't hurt women unless I can't help it."

"You said… you were bored."

"I wouldn't do that," Cain said firmly and stood up. "You know me, would I?" he demanded.

"The man you are now might not be the one you will be then," Abel said.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Cain demanded.

"Are you?" Abel stood as well, he had to look up at Cain. "You're going to hurt innocent people and you probably will before that too," he looked torn then. "I can't stay and watch you become that man I saw in the Apple."

Cain blinked, "What?"

"I'm leaving," Abel said and Cain felt his face go slack a moment. "I can't stay with you if you're going to become… that. So I'm leaving."

"You're leaving me?" Cain asked.

"Yes," Abel said.

Cain went and hugged him, "Don't do things without thinking, Abel," he said, like Abel was prone to do at times. Doing before thinking, acting on his first instinct that wasn't always the right one.

Abel didn't hug him back and eventually Cain let him go. "I am thinking," he said and shrugged Cain off. "And my name isn't Abel."

"I know that, but you're my brother-

"I'm not your brother," Abel said. "The Assassins are my brothers. You're my friend, and Assassins don't have those."

Cain's mouth went tight, "So you're just…leaving. After everything I've done for you-

"You've helped me," Abel said, "But I never asked you to. You helped me on your own free will, and on mine; I'm doing what I have to for me now. I still obey my tenants, and I can't kill. But I'm not going to stand by your side and watch you murder innocents either."

"Abel-

"My name is Altair," he said firmly. "And this is goodbye."

Cain couldn't move. He watched Abel give him one last pained look, clearly not liking having to do what he thought was right, and then turned and went to his room to get his things. Cain sat in his chair at the table a sudden disappear washing over him. Abel was leaving. Leaving him. His perfect, eternal, brother, was leaving him. He was alone again.

He looked up when the door opened, "Abel," he called before he could leave. "I'm here if you need me."

Abel swallowed, "I told you, my name is Altair, and I don't need you anymore," and the sound of the closing door was finalizing. Cain sat there, unmoving, until thirst and hunger made him get up, and it was only under protest that it had to continue to live. The next day Cain did something he hadn't done in centuries.

He killed himself.