Author's notes: I was off today, so I figured nothing wrong with posting a second chappie. :)
"Mom! We're out of lentils!" Alan shouted from the kitchen pantry, digging through different flowery canisters with no luck. Any sort of grain would do, really, as long as there was plenty of it. But lentils were just so easy to clean up and store in the morning.
"Oh, baby...that's too bad," his flower child mother swanned into the kitchen, and then the pantry to stand beside him. "Why don't you use some beans, instead?"
"Those are too easy to count!" Alan argued, "they're way too big. We need something with at least a half radius if we expect this to last us more than a few hours," he insisted. And he might as well have been speaking Greek for all she knew. But his mother simply shrugged and smiled, kissing him on the cheek before gliding out as she shook her head, laughing. She probably wouldn't have understood much of what he was saying anyway, even if it did make sense. It was a Saturday night, and she was very much in her own world right now.
Alan slammed his forehead against the wall in frustration. Whether anything was going to come to their 'compound' (as Ed liked to call it) tonight or not, they needed to be prepared at all times! They'd have to swipe some cash from the till tomorrow for grocery money.
"Hey! Alan! Come in here! Those surfing jerks are on the local news!" Ed shouted from the other room. Alan rolled his eyes, continuing to dig through the pantry, for something...anything that might work instead of lentils. Maybe split peas? They were like...five years old at least...but it wasn't like the bloodsuckers would try to eat them. They were just a distraction. There was no way in hell he ever wanted to see vampires on the doorstep, but he really was anxious to know if this counting thing was true or not. It would be an incredible weapon in their arsenal if it was...
Marko sailed through the broken store window, his shopping trip finally completed. It had taken about three our four different break-ins up and down the street to find something that wasn't bedazzled or lined with strips of suede fringe. The women in this town had god-awful taste. Not to mention the unbelievable prices. A t-shirt with a sparkling cow on the front and 'Texas' emblazoned in big red letters was not worth a hundred bucks. If he was paying for any of this shit, he'd be livid.
The best he could do for jeans was a black pair lined on the pant seams with metal studs. But hey, it was better than rhinestones. Actually, he wouldn't mind taking a few of the weird fabrics here and cutting out some patches for his jacket...Marko sailed back into the shop to grab them. It took him a good half hour before he was finally satisfied, and an irritated voice interrupted his tour of the finest shopping the hick town had to offer...
"Marko, hurry the fuck up. They'll be waking up soon."
Marko snatched up a mid-waist black denim jacket he'd been debating about for Star, and rolled his eyes, "you wear them out that bad, Davey?"
"You always do this when I send you on an errand. This whole shit show would have been over six months ago if you weren't always dragging your ass!" David snapped back.
"Bitch, bitch, bitch...that's all you do. I'm coming, okay?"
"I'm kicking your ass when we get home."
The curly-haired vampire frowned, striding away from the shop over shards of broken glass. So he had Star's things. Got a few patches for himself. An antique brooch (because it was shiny.) Hell, he'd even found a pair of riding boots for Mikey so the little baby wouldn't feel left out. Not that Marko thought he'd be grateful. Judging from what he could remember, the brunette was more than a little on the moody side. Speaking of which, he really didn't want to miss seeing them wake up. It would make for an awesome show. Marko picked up his pace, darting back in the direction of the bar. He could have flown, but he didn't want to draw any attention if anyone happened to be taking a late night walk.
Michael pressed his face close to the back of Star's head, inhaling the fragrance of her hair. She smelled just like jasmine. Funny, though, he hadn't remembered falling asleep on the meadow in this position, curled up on his side with her pleasantly soft parts folded against him. Not that he minded it, of course. Still...hadn't they been wearing under-
Images flooded his mind of the last few hours. A bar. David's little proposal. A gunshot. Blood. Snapping necks. Watching in utter horror and gut-wrenching sadness as Star lost control, then ultimately giving in himself. And...Oh god...
Shame and self-disgust, thy name is Michael.
Surging up, Michael pushed away from star, who squeaked in protest, and wasn't too terribly surprised to see David perched near the booze-soaked bar, draining a bottle of beer, and taking puffs of a half-used cigarette.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" He climbed to his feet, snatching his jeans up from the ground and struggled to slide his leg into them so he could beat the shit out of David. He didn't want to do it naked, though. Not now that he really know the 'depth' of the bastard's disgusting kinks.
"Michael?" Star whispered groggily as she sat up, rubbing at her eyes. She was still wearing the lacy half-top and black bra, but not much else. If he wasn't so mad right now, he might have actively appreciated the sight. Zipping up his pants, he rounded on David with his fists drawn.
David took another puff of his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray before setting his beer aside. "Hey, I was only giving you what you wanted," he informed the brunette dryly, standing up from his bar stool and spreading his arms wide. "But go ahead, Michael. Take your best shot."
Star gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth. Apparently everything had just dawned on her too, and she wasn't too happy about it. She lowered her head, quickly covering herself as best she could. Michael may have just had his sexuality expanded in ways he'd never thought possible, but at least he had a pair of god damned pants! That was more than she could say for herself.
Michael sailed forward, fists flying, throwing just about everything he had at David. They'd agreed to spend an hour in the bar, play nice, and join the Lost Boys for good if they gave in (which unfortunately, they'd lost), but at no point did the bastard say they'd have to fuck him, too! As far as he was concerned, all bets were off now.
David didn't fight back, when Michael assaulted him, bloodying his face, nearly breaking his nose, and doing his damnedest to get a rise out of his maker. And when David decided it wasn't quite as fun anymore, he grabbed the boy's hands mid-punch, and pulled him close enough that they were pressed up close against each other in a position only moderately less intimate than the one they'd been in less than half an hour before.
"You listen to me, Michael. I'm only going to tell you once," David hissed dangerously, fangs drawn. He was still smiling, but his voice held a disturbing note of warning to it. And whereas Michael might have denied it before, even fought back and put up a front when he was only a half-vampire...there was a new voice now, pressing at the back of his mind, urging him to stay quiet if he knew what was good for him. Michael really wanted to tell that voice to fuck off.
"Me and the boys have been patient with both of you, even let you have a nice little country-wide tour for the last two years so you could say a nice good-bye to the fucking sun, since it was apparently so god damned important," David continued, twisting one of Michael's arms behind a back and chuckling when he heard the boy give out a distinct hiss of pain. He spun him about as if they were dancing, until Michael's back was pressed up against the bar counter, even more vulnerable than before. "But it's over. We made an agreement. You both lost. Now you're coming home, and you won't fight me. You and Star...you're part of the family now, body and soul. There's no turning back. Star, drop the fucking chair."
During their scuffle, Star had grabbed a chair and tried sneaking up on David to break it over his head. But now that she'd been caught, she lowered it with a sigh. "Why couldn't you just let us go?" She asked him, sitting down on the chair and leaning down to tear at one of the dead men's coats so she could at least cover herself.
David chuckled, "that's a stupid question."
"But why?!" Michael demanded, glaring up at him. He might not be fighting, but he was damned if he'd just lower his head and act as if he wasn't fucking pissed off.
"Because you're mine. Both of you. Forever."
David listened to the fledgling's thoughts after he said this, and wasn't surprised they both seemed to still have notes of rebellion in their minds. Plots. Ideas. Well, he'd just wait awhile to teach them how to read minds. Until they learned to behave, he wasn't going to make their lives any easier. He was going to enjoy breaking them.
"Yeah, man. We saw these, like...crazy dudes. Big teeth. Crazy black eyes. They were wild. Weren't they wild, brah?" One of the surfers turned away from the interviewer to get confirmation from his buddy, who simply nodded with his jaw open, neon sunglasses covering his eyes. He'd been like that the whole interviewer.
"Well, folks, there you have it," the young woman turned back to the camera with her mic held tightly in her hands. "There are monsters, in Santa Carla." She laughed. It was the same fake laugh every news reporter seemed to have perfected to a tee, no matter how ridiculous their news story. It was the laugh that said 'I don't believe any of this shit, but at least I'm on camera!' "Back to you, Hank. And remember...don't go surfing at night! Who knows what you'll run into, huh?"
The screen switched to a grinning man with an expertly shaped helmet of glistening brown hair, "hahah! Yes, Janice, that was truly...a terrorizing story. Can you imagine 'vampires' in Santa Carla, Dianne?" He turned towards his co-anchor.
"No, Hank, I definitely can't. Of course, if you're looking for a real killer this summer, let's talk about an adorable local lady who breeds and dyes all of her rabbits pink! The look...it's do die for-"
Edgar flipped off the television with a grunt, turning back towards Sam and Alan, who sat on the opposite couch with unreadable expressions.
"Ed...I thought vampires only had yellow eyes. This is bullshit." Sam shook his head. "It's fake. It's gotta be."
"...If it's real, though..." Alan gulped.
"If it's real...that means there's more than one type out there. And they're coming to Santa Carla. And if that's true-"
"...We're screwed." Alan agreed.
"And we gotta do a lot more research..." Sam added, looking down at his own notebook. Maybe if there were shit-suckers with black eyes...garlic would work on them? He hated to think this was going to be a trial and error thing, if they ran into some of them on the beach. Maybe they could just give up this hunting thing and start staying home after dark...
"Shit. We gotta get a library card." Edgar growled, throwing his head back. He hated to think about it, but...they were going to have to fan out their sources...and that meant books without pictures...