Kicking his feet over the edge of the cliff, Michael sat silently, squinting into the sea mist and biting back a wave of dizziness. Clutched in his palm was something he should have thrown away weeks ago, but hadn't been able to really think of how he'd do it. Seemed like a pretty big gesture, for some reason, even if it was the product of a drunken mistake. He lifted the earring up and let it catch in the weak moonlight filtering through the mist and fog.
What was he even doing here? This was stupid. Maybe grandpa had made a good point about finding a hobby. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if he followed through with his plan tonight to jump. It made him physically ill to think about his family right now.
He took a deep breath and hurled the earring into the air as if he were pitching a fastball, taking his first real step to move on. From here on out, he was pretty much hoping he'd go back to normal. Or a semblance of it, anyway. But even when he was sure the scrap of jewelry had met its new home at the bottom of the bluff, he didn't feel any different. Still the same. Still just as lost as he was before, and just as scared. It was a pointless gesture. A grand one, maybe...but still pointless.
Michael ran his hand through his hair, lowering his head. It was now or never, he supposed…
"You really going to take a header off a cliff?" David's voice echoed through the night, drawing his attention behind him. There stood the blonde in all his glory, examining something between his fingers, "It would be such a waste."
Michael stared back at him, willing his imagination to take a hike and leave him alone for once. This time, however, he didn't disappear. Climbing to his feet, he slowly turned to face him, edging as close to the edge of the bluff as he dared without falling. Bits of dirt crumbled beneath his heel, but he remained standing, "you're not real," he stated flatly.
He raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly, "I'm not, am I? He stepped forward and Michael saw what was between his fingers, moonlight glinted off the earring, "Could have fooled me. Not real. If I'm not real, what does that mean for you? Think you've lost your mind? Gone crazy? Or maybe it's wishful thinking. If you're hallucinating, doesn't that mean you want me to be here?"
He scowled, willing himself to take one final step back and end this stupid conversation with what could only be a ghost at best and, as he said, a hallucination at worst. Only, Michael definitely did not fucking want him to be there, "maybe I already jumped," he replied, "maybe my skull's cracked on a rock down there, and this is just a final nightmare before I'm dead."
"Is that what you want to be real?" He asked, "Do you want someone to find your body, split open and bloody on the rocks? Tell me, Michael, what do you really want?"
He wanted this to be over. He wanted to stop thinking about them. He wanted to turn back the clock and tell himself to stay in Arizona with his jackass of a father, if that's what it took. He wanted to stop caring. "I want this to be over," he replied, glaring at David with all of the bravery he could muster. On the one hand, if...if he was somehow real, alive and standing right in front of him...Then Michael was just an easy meal talking to a predator with a pretty good reason to eat him. On the other, it was just a pointless exercise to prove to himself just how crazy he really was. What did it really matter? "I want to die."
"Do you want to die, or do you want to live?" He questioned, watching him intently.
Michael was getting pissed off, now, "I already told you, asshole. I want to die. So why don't you just fucking kill me if it's such a big deal, huh?"
He rolled his eyes, "Why? Why do you want to off yourself?"
He faltered, "I can't handle the guilt anymore…I don't trust myself..."
"What if the guilt was gone? No more pain, no more suffering, no more wondering what would happen if you let loose? Do you want me to kill you or do you want me to help you?"
If he could get out of this without dying, spare Sam and mom the pain, of course he'd leap at the chance. Now he was seriously beginning to doubt whether he really was arguing with thin air, and not the devil in the flesh, but it wasn't possible. Michael had killed David himself, had seen him die. So, he really didn't see the harm in admitting it, "I want help, but I don't think you can do that," he sighed, lifting one of his feet and spreading his arms as if he were about to take flight, falling back, letting gravity do the rest.
A very solid hand clamped around his forearm, pulling him back and up into a quite real body. David's face was inches from his own, golden eyes boring into him, "I'm going to help you, Michael. You want to taste death? I'll give it to you." Sharp fangs slid into his skin, they didn't rip or tear like he expected David to do, but hot blood bubbled up from the wound, spilling into the vampire's mouth as he began to drink. Michael struggled to shove him away, but he might as well be punching a brick wall for all the good it did him.
He tried to summon up a cry, a scream, and all he could do was gasp in pain. It fucking hurt. "St...stop…"
Slowly he pulled back, dragging his tongue over the wounds, "Stop? I thought you wanted to die." He whispered against his ear before ducking his head down to lick at the wounds again.
He'd taken a lot; Michael had to dig his fists into the vampire's coat just to keep standing, "no," he rasped weakly, his head falling to the side, "changed my mind…"
"Tell me what you want." His voice was soft, "Tell me."
Each breath rattling through his chest was laboured and fast, black spots clouding his vision even as he tried to find the words, "I wanna live…"
"You wanna live? Live with the guilt of what you want to do or do you want me to fix it, to take it all away?"
Michael closed his eyes, hating himself for even considering it, but...if he kept on like this, sooner or later he was going to go crazy (if he hadn't already) or try something even dumber, maybe even lose his temper on a bad morning and hit Sam too hard, possibly worse. He wanted to be strong, make the right choice and spit in David's face, or kill him all over again...that wasn't going to change things, either. "Take…" He licked his bottom lip and took another deep breath, "take it away…"
David smiled against his throat before pulling back. Slowly he slit his wrist holding it up to him in offering, "Take it." He said softly, holding it close to his lips. Michael sent up a silent prayer or plea for forgiveness, and then he opened his mouth, and he drank.
It wasn't like the first time, drug-addled and drinking from a tacky wine bottle. There wasn't even a hint of cheap wine lacing the blood that spilled past his lips. It was rich, heady, and he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his hands around his arm and holding it firmly in place. David made no signs of trying to pull away, to stop him from drinking as much as he wanted. It was ambrosia, the drink of the gods, and he couldn't get enough. The more he had, the more he wanted. It was cathartic. Every ounce of anger and tension he'd been carrying with him seemed to melt away, and all that was left behind was the blood. Then, there was nothing.
David stood over the unconscious brunette as he laid him on the ground. He'd have to get him back to the hotel soon but for now he just wanted to watch. All that fire, all that stubbornness, it was disappointing to see it go. The kid had fought so hard to be human but in the end being a halfling had taken it's toll. Not everyone could handle becoming human again, well, at least not the good ones. Ones like Star, well, they were too stupid to realize what they were missing. They didn't have a killer's instinct, not like Michael did. He looked so peaceful with blood smeared along his lips.
"Well boys, come say hi." He grinned into the darkness, had left the boys out of it until he was done with Michael, it wouldn't have done any good to show that all of them were still alive after all. He didn't need that much of a scare.
They appeared through the fog and mist, grinning madly and laughing amongst each other. "Bit melodramatic, wasn't it?" Dwayne remarked, standing over Michael and eyeing him curiously. He was still very much dead to the world, while the blood took its time working through his system. The second time around was going to be a lot rougher than the first. All of the little changes he'd been put through already were going to be packed into the span of a few hours...it was going to hurt.
"So are we done waiting around," Paul asked hopefully, nodding back into the darkness, "gonna do some payback?"
"Gotta wait until he feeds, then we can see about payback." David stated, watching as Michael curled in on himself, the pain making itself known.
"Bets on how attached he's gonna be to his brother!" Marko grinned.
Dwayne shook his head, "I don't want to go back to that house. Meet them all on our terms, makes for a cleaner kill," they'd barely even managed to come back, after all, if the comic shop kids didn't have such shitty aim with Marko, and David had gotten pinned on wood instead of bone.
Michael let out a sharp gasp, wrapping his arms around his knees as he began to shiver violently.
"I'll take that bet," Paul piped up. "Bet he tears him limb from limb...like a string cheese stick…right down the middle" he cackled.
"We can talk about it more at home." The bleach blonde knelt down and picked up their newest brother. Unknowingly, he burrowed his face closer to his maker, inhaling his scent. David let out a soft hum of pleasure before taking to the air, holding him close against his chest. Totally worth it.
"The whole stretch, Stacy. All blocked off...they don't know if it was sharks or what," two girls strode into the comic shop, the chattier one flinging the door open so hard, she nearly broke the bell off. "Daddy says they were all real good swimmers, too, but there was lots of liquor...totally wild party…" She wrinkled her nose, snatching up a comic and glancing at it, "you think Dustin would like this one? It's only a buck fifty..."
"Probably, so, sharks? How'd they find the bodies then? Did they just like wash up on shore or something?" She snapped her gum, looking over the other girl's shoulder.
Alan leaned against one of the racks, momentarily distracted from staring at the second one's backside in favor of their conversation. He frowned and jerked his head towards his brother at the counter.
"Well, like," the first girl popped her gum, reaching up with two neon pink nails to pick the destroyed bubble from her lips, "they were all torn up and stuff...it's real nasty...you ever seen Jaws? It's like that grody stuff they keep in the buckets...everywhere...won't even let the news crews get any good pictures." She leaned in closer, tucking her gum back in her mouth, "and they said...like...it happened a couple times before. That's why daddy doesn't like us going out at night," her eyebrows shot up, "spoooooky…"
Edgar cleared his throat, quickly scribbling their number on the back of a vampire comic he had nearby.
There was a buzzing in his ears. No, maybe it was crashing...water...waves. Michael groaned, struggling to sit up. He could feel damp sand beneath his jeans, and he was pretty sure he'd just been hit by a fucking freight train. Everything hurt. He cracked his eyes open, pressing the flats of his palms to his forehead and trying to will his massive headache to go away. What happened?
Had he jumped? Survived? Was that whole conversation with David just a concussion dream? Slowly, he pulled his hands away from his forehead, and flinched when he moved his head to the side. There was a deep ache in his neck, an itchy feeling...he touched a hand gingerly to the skin there and felt two very clean but prominent wounds...bite marks.
"...Shit," his voice sounded rough, cracking from the sheer effort of talking. From one moment to the next, he didn't know how he managed to summon the strength to climb to his feet, stumbling down the shoreline. Something was pulling him though, calling to him...a feeling in his gut told him he'd feel a lot better if he just followed whatever it was. A scent. A sound...why was it so bright out? The stars were blinding.
His leg muscles were screaming at him to stop, but he kept on going until he saw them...a group of guys chilling out on the beach, maybe six of them...laughing and smashing foaming beer cans together while the surf came up to wash the pads of their feet in the sand.
He could practically hear David's voice in his head, urging him forward, "You'll feel better, just do it."
He didn't have enough time to regret, or curse himself, or even think about what he was doing. The beast, so much stronger than it had been the first time, came roaring to life. There wasn't much room left for anything but his hunger now, and soon peals of laughter became horrified shrieks, and finally choked coughing when the first one Michael managed to get a hold of christened him with a spray of blood from the artery in his throat.
Shouts of joy rang out over the screams as Michael took his first step into the world of pack life. Michael painted himself in blood, it was just as he imagined it would be. It wasn't long before the others joined him, came close as he continued to feed. One of them, he wasn't sure which, licked the blood off his cheek, growling softly. He relaxed, though he held his victim a little bit closer, having no intention to share it just yet.
The guilt was gone. The anger. The fear. He got what he wanted, though maybe not in quite the same way. Fuck, this felt so good, he didn't even know why he'd fought it in the first place. When he finally released his spent victim, Michael felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He was feather light and riding the high. Dizzy, he leaned towards the one who'd licked him, a deep purr of contentment emanating from his chest.
Strong fingers slid through his hair as that wicked tongue slid over his skin again, catching the escaped blood, "You're perfect like this." Another trail of blood was lapped up.
Michael pulled back, his eyes half-open from lethargy, "what?" He squinted at the speaker in question, David. He could barely stay awake right now...wanted to just curl up in the sand and relax. Something told him that wasn't a very good idea, though.
"Come on, let's get back," he paused, "I'll lick the rest of the blood off you."
He nodded sluggishly, climbing to his feet and brushing some of the pink sand from his jeans, "mmmh…" that was pretty much the extent of his vocabulary at the moment as he leaned against David for support. "Feel funny," he yawned.
He chuckled softly, "That's alright, come on." He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him toward home.
Lucy shoved open the door to her father's workshop, fixing an earring into her ear as she did so, "dad, did Michael come home last night? He's not in his room, and I really wanted to talk to him today."
He scowled, taking a swig of milk out of the carton, "Dunno, thought he was up there. Want I should go check?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, "dad," she pointed a finger at the carton in question, "now you know mom didn't like you doing that, why are you doing it to my milk?" She sighed, "I already checked. He's not upstairs. I was hoping you'd seen him…" Lucy shook her head, "I'm going to head to work, but if Michael shows up, tell him to give me a call, okay? I think I may know someone selling a spare box spring."
He let out a grunt, taking another drink out of spite, "I'll let him know."
Lucy looked upwards and prayed her mom was looking down and planning to chastise him on judgment day, but for now, she'd just buy an extra carton of milk on the way home. Skim, if that would keep his hands and mouth off of it. "Thanks, dad. Do you want me to pick anything up on the way home? I noticed you were running low on cookies."
He nodded, "Cookies and root beer, I'm almost out of both." He stated, "The good kind, not the cheap stuff."
"Your doctor told you to cut back on that, so this is it for the week, okay?" She closed the door to the workshop and headed to the kitchen to grab her purse, squinting through the kitchen window on her way out. There wasn't a sign of Michael's bike outside, so that meant he must have gone out...she just hoped he hadn't spent all night doing something silly. God knew she should have just convinced him to go to school anyway, at least to keep him out of trouble. At least Sam wasn't as much trouble as Michael was becoming. It was upsetting, the phase her eldest seemed to be going through. They used to be so close before the divorce...and...well, the vampires. Unfortunately they didn't make books for coping with recovering from that particular problem. She honestly didn't know what to do. Maybe she could look into a psychiatrist, Michael was smart enough not to talk about the vampires but maybe talking about loss and change would help him.
It was a school holiday, and Sam was probably still in his room. Maybe she'd talk to him too, see if she could get them both into counseling. The whole family needed help, though Michael was definitely in need of a lot more than she could give him on her own.
As she was driving away, she faintly heard the phone ringing. Hopefully dad would get it.
"Sam?" Edgar practically shouted over the phone, and no doubt his brother was standing right by him to listen in.
Sam rolled his eyes, "What?" He grumbled, "Do you know how early it is?"
"Sam. We might need back-up...there's some serious shit going down…" He growled ominously.
He scowled at the phone, "What do you mean? What kind of stuff?" He didn't dare swear with grandpa there.
"On the beach. There's been...a murder...blood and guts...all that crap...all over...we think it could be vampires, and we're gonna need your help. Maybe even your brother...for muscle. Can you make it down to the shop today? We're gonna start investigating as soon as possible. Before sunset..."
"We don't wanna be on the menu!" Alan chimed in, loudly.
"I'll be there…" He looked up the stairs, Michael wasn't there, where was he? "I'll try and get Mike too but he didn't come home last night I don't think."
There was an uneasy silence on the other end of the line, before Ed finally cleared his throat, "uh...your brother doesn't go swimming at night a lot, did...does he?"
"What? No, I don't think so, unless he's stupid, which he is, but pretty sure he wouldn't do that."
"No, you can't step past the line. You're not cops, you're not forensics, so no," the police officer directed them away from the massive streams of yellow tape. He looked like he'd been practicing that line all day, and there was a big enough crowd nearby to prove it.
"We got a right to see what's happening in our community!" Edgar shouted, nudging Sam, "right, Sam? Tell him."
Sam looked at him wide eyed, "It was just a shark attack, right? Why can't we go in there?"
He sighed, "that's not how crime scenes work, okay? Could be sharks, could be a bunch of maniacs, I don't know. We're not done, and anything you need to know will probably show up on the news sooner or later. I'm sorry, you're just gonna have to get your sick kicks from one of those trashy slasher flicks you kids are always watching."
"This is stupid, come on Ed, Alan, let's go do something else." He had every intention of finding another way in of course. It would just take a bit of creativity.
Later that afternoon, when Lucy got a call from the local police about her youngest son, unfortunately for Sam, she was far from happy.
"What on earth were you thinking?" She scolded him, "are you trying to act out for attention? Is that what this is? Honey, is this a call for help?" She was squeezing the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had turned white. "What sane human being plays Red Rover by a police line?!"
He looked down at his lap, "It wasn't as bad as they made it sound…"
Lucy sighed, focusing on the road ahead of her, "I had to leave work early today because of this."
"Mom, I'm sorry, I just...What if…" He sighed, "It won't happen again."
She nodded, seemingly satisfied, "good. You haven't seen Michael today, have you? I need to talk to him."
He shook his head, "No, haven't seen him since last night."
"I don't…" Her eyes flicked over to him, "I don't think it would be a bad idea for us to go to some family counseling together. Michael seems to be having a lot of trouble lately, and I think you have a few things you probably need to get off your chest, too."
He looked up at her, "What if they're not dead?" He asked softly, now the Frog's paranoia was wearing off on him.
"...What?" She pressed a hand to his forehead while the other remained steady on the wheel, "Sam, is that why you acted up today? Because you've been having bad dreams? You think they're coming back for you? Honey...they're dead. I don't know much about...well...those things...but I know when someone is dead. They can't come back to get you, I promise."
He shook his head, "It's just a feeling and then the bodies on the beach, it wasn't sharks mom."
She pulled her hand away, just as they arrived at a stoplight. "I'll start looking for a therapist tomorrow." By now Lucy was getting visibly distressed. In her eyes, this was bordering on an unhealthy obsession. "I'm sorry I ever met that awful man."