Hey guys! I'm back for a one-shot!

I promise I'll be back soon. I just have a lot going on right now. This was written because of thexlastxfantasy, because of David-Santa and also beautiful head cannons.

I DO NOT OWN THE LOST BOYS.

"David, where ya goin?" called Paul, his curls bouncing as he rocked his head to the beat of his 'rock-box'. David turned, ever so slowly, and glared at the younger vampire with icy fire in his eyes, no explanation necessary. "All right, cool it." the extremely high vampire groaned. "No need to go all femme fatale on me, bro." he muttered.

David sighed, turning back to practically leap into the air, flying out the cave and into the cool, dark summer night.
He watched the people down at the Boardwalk, enjoying a night out on the beach. Apparently, there was some kind of party going on at the beach, since the 'Walk was closed for the night and people didn't want to go home yet. It was in the early hours of the near-morning, and it was still a while before the sun's deadly rays would touch the horizon. David made a few circles above the party, watching people throw sand into the sea and tip back beer bottles, not a care in the world.
David hated these people. They had everything they could ask for - a happy life, sunlight, warmth, love, a chance at something more than the eternal flames of hell when they moved on from this plane. He remembered something his mother told him, many years before. It was the night he became a vampire.

They were mourning the loss of David's father. He had been a trader, kind and lion-hearted. He had been cornered one night when walking home from the docks, when he had been "jumped", as the story went. David's mother had been with him all through the next day, tears staining both faces. When she put him to bed that night, she paused for a moment, and leaned down to tell him something.
"David, do you know what happens to people when they die?" she asked softly, pushing her ragged brown hair back behind her ears. He shook his head, confused. "Well, they become angels. Your father, he became an Angel of the Sea." she gave him a small smile, as though she hoped this would make him feel better.
David had only nodded his head silently, showing he understood what she said. He had already had plans to become a trader when he was a few years older, just to get a proper man to apprentice him. He was eighteen, pushing the limit, but he was sure he could find someone willing to take him on. He told his mother to let him be, and wished her a good night.
Late that night, he heard the door opening, and his mother's gasp. He shot out of bed, racing to the front of the house, where he saw his mother, frozen at the door. On the other side was someone he had only seen the morning before.
His father. He had a soft expression on his face, one hand outstretched to his wife.
"Dear, please let me in... I have something to show you. Some gold I have locked away. Please, dear..." His eyes were wide and pleading.
"Mother, remember! The spirits of the undead can return to torment the living! Don't let him in!" David had lowered his voice, authority ringing from it. His father sighed.
"Well, an invitation would have been nice, but seeing as I don't really need one..." He snarled as he lunged inside, grabbing his wife by the throat. His face changed, morphing into some kind of hellish, demonic visage. He grinned viciously and sank his fangs into her throat.
"Max..." David's mother gasped, rigid. David growled weakly, a purely human sound, and leapt at his father. Max let go of his wife, snapping her neck, and turned to David.
"You know, Son... I'm thinking of starting a family business. Want to join?" he smirked as he rushed the young man, slicing a vein in his own arm with one wickedly sharp claw. Blood seeped from the wound. Max forced his son's mouth to the cut. David could not help but suck on the demon's blood. The last thought that prevailed his conscious mind was, 'Mother lied... Father didn't become an angel. And neither will I.'
And that was the night David died.

David snorted, forcing himself out of his reverie. Max might have turned him, but he lost all similarities to the father David once knew, just as David was no longer the soft-spoken boy who was a man. They had both become ruthless killers, only taking joy in death and torture. And sex. That was pretty joyful, too. David had his eye on that chick that worked in Max's video store, which was apparently why Max didn't let him in there any more. There was one other chick, some apparent homeless gypsy girl who wore enticing tank tops and sparkling skirts.
Which was really the only reason he didn't make her a vampire. All those sparkling skirts! Who ever heard of a sparkly vampire? Total bullshit.
But still, David was mad at Max. He ended any hope of ever becoming an angel.
Not that he wanted that, but still. An eternity of gore and death wore on you after a while.
Sometimes he just wished he could die, to see what it was like after eternity.
With a deep sigh, he turned back and flew to the cave. Paul would be done with his rockfest by now, he hoped.
As he arrived, he thought to himself, 'Screw it.'
In better terms, he decided to screw Star. The sparkly skirts didn't matter, she was his. With a malicious smirk, he took off again to find the dark-haired beauty, his leather coat flapping in the wind.