School was starting in a week. Still no word from the Frog brothers. Come to think of it, Mike hadn't even gotten any phone calls from his girlfriend yet, either. But mom had at least started getting interviews, which meant she was out of the house half the time. As far as grandpa was concerned, the old man was still only vaguely aware they were even there as long as they didn't break any house rules. Which meant he could finally get Michael to take him to check on the Frog brothers.
Mike was in the kitchen making one of his patented gross-ass protein shakes when Sam went to plead his case, "So, Mike, I was thinking that maybe you could take me into town, I gotta check on the Frogs. Haven't heard from them in days and, well, I'm worried."
"Yeah?" Michael asked, disinterested as he plopped two raw eggs into the blender. "Tried calling them?"
"Every day, a couple times a day, so will you help me out?"
"You think maybe they just don't wanna talk?" Next came a spoonful of peanut butter.
He rolled his eyes, "What's it gonna hurt to check? Come on, please, they helped save you from becoming a vamp."
Michael sighed, digging through the fridge and pulling out a few more ingredients. Milk. A banana. An avocado. A...Sam nearly turned green when he saw his brother snatch up a package of raw liver and eyeball it.
"How can you drink that shit?"
He glanced over at Sam and shrugged as he dropped everything into the blender. Even the liver. "I'm gonna have to swing by the market and grab some more meat later. I think mom was planning to use this for dinner…" When he began to pulse the concoction into a drinkable slop, Sam was on the verge of gagging. Little droplets of congealed blood dripped over the lid. "Doesn't taste great, but it's good for muscle," Michael told him, as if that explained why he'd decided to guzzle a raw meat milkshake today for lunch. He never put meat in it. Everything else but the kitchen sink...but...ugh, there were still little clotted chunks dripping out of it when Michael poured it into a glass.
Sam gagged, "Alright, fine, but you're checking the store, the house, wherever I wanna go if I have to watch you drink that."
Michael rolled his eyes at him, lifting the glass to his lips and chugging it down. He finished it in record time, wiping the last bits from around his mouth and licking it up. "You could've just looked away, dork."
He scowled, "I think that's the first time I've seen you use raw meat in it."
"I was trying something new," Michael replied, rinsing the glass out in the sink. "Alright, come on. But we're making this fast. I don't have a bunch of cash to burn right now for a little joyride, okay?"
"I'll give you my comic book money, let's just go."
"Oh, you mean dad's 'don't hate me' stipend he sent you last weekend?"
"Yeah, that." He rolled his eyes, heading outside, "Comic shop first, then their house if we have to."
"And after that?" Michael snorted as he snatched his keys from the kitchen counter and followed Sam outside. It was a little chilly today, but he wasn't about to grab that jacket. Actually, maybe he'd just hock it while he dropped Sam off at the shop for a couple of minutes. Too many bad memories. Just like the earring he'd tossed in the garbage.
"We'll see what happens after that."
"Hold on…" Michael went back inside the house to get his jacket, slinging it over his shoulder before he came back outside. "Okay, let's go."
Sam got on behind him, at least Mike could see reason, unlike mom.
"Hold my jacket for me," Michael instructed him before he started his engine.
"Why don't you just put it on?"
"Just do it."
He rolled his eyes and took it from him, "Fine, weirdo."
"Alright, hold on."
They couldn't get to the boardwalk fast enough for Sam. He was worried about the brothers, really worried, but this should help. He would go there, they'd be fine, maybe their phone was broken. He wouldn't be this paranoid if they could've just...seen the dust after they offed those bloodsuckers. And why would they have all just gone 'poof' after only a few minutes? It just wasn't setting right with him.
The moment they pulled up outside he was off the bike, scowling at closed shutters, "The fuck?" Why would they be closed? He looked back at Mike, "We gotta go to their house."
Michael stared at him hard, "Sam. It's over. Why are you freaking out? Maybe they're just closed today, huh?" He didn't even sound like he was convinced about what he was saying.
"Because we didn't see their bodies, there was no ash, nothing. Just, let's go, okay?" He sighed, why couldn't he get it? It was like he was trying to pretend nothing had even happened. Sam felt like he was talking to a brick wall.
"Fine," Michael sighed, holding out his hand for his jacket, "I'm getting cold. Hand it over and we'll get going. Gonna need some directions. You know where they live, right?"
He nodded, handing the coat over, "Yeah." He got back on the bike, giving him directions. If they weren't there...well, they'd have to go to the hotel, "Here." He pointed, full of nervous energy. The place already looked like something out of a monster movie. But knowing grandpa's interior decorating tastes, Sam was able to appreciate the lake of totem poles and creepy sculptures on the front lawn.
"Alright," Michael climbed off of his bike. "Go kiss and make up, or whatever, and make it fast. Mom's probably going to be heading home soon, and she'd wring my neck if she found out I took you for this stupid little joyride today."
He hopped off, heading for the door only to visibly deflate when he saw a note pinned to the door.
Went on vacation, be back in a few weeks.
That's all it said, a stupid short letter, "Mike…" He walked back to him, "We gotta go to the hotel."
Michael lowered his eyebrows, his expression unreadable for a second before it quickly smoothed over, "why? Having a tea party there, now, Sam? This is getting ridiculous."
"I have to know, okay?! Please!" He was starting to panic.
The silence stretched into a minute before Michael finally gave a curt nod, indicating his bike, "come on."
He wanted to get this over with. The last place in the world Michael ever wanted to go again, other than the old man's workshop, was that fucking death trap. Yeah, maybe the time before last, he'd gotten lucky with Star, so it wasn't as if he didn't have some lingering fondness for the place. But going there would just make the nightmare he'd had last week that much more real. It would make the fear scratching at the back of his brain, needling him, bugging him, have some kind of substance. Yeah, maybe it wasn't healthy to bottle this up like he was trying to do, but the alternative...obsessing about it, like Sam was...that would only drive him crazy.
He didn't want any more dreams, and frankly...he didn't want to believe Sam was right about this. He went around in circles in his mind, debating about what to do as they rode there, while the wind picked up and whipped at his hair, stinging his eyes. Or maybe it was the sun. He was stubbornly refusing to shield himself from the light, though. No matter how sensitive his eyes had become. Maybe a lingering side effect, maybe something worse, he just wanted to ignore it.
Pulling up just outside, Michael kept an arm over his brother's shoulder to keep Sam from dashing ahead of him, "you going to be okay, Sam?"
He nodded, "I gotta know, if...if they're dead." He didn't want to think of the Frog brothers as dead. He looked down the stairs, "Come with me?" His voice was quiet.
Michael strode ahead of him, holding up a hand to make sure Sam kept his distance, "it's not safe here. Place looks like it could fall apart at any second. Vampires or not, I don't want you getting hurt," he whispered softly, picking his way down the steps. Sun was up. Vampires were long gone. There was no rush, beyond the unholy wrath of mom if they broke their personal curfew.
Sam followed him, there was no way he was staying behind. He followed him exactly, "Not gonna get hurt."
The further they picked their way down the steps, and the closer they got to the cave, the more uneasy Michael became…
Lub-dub…
Oh god…
Lub-dub...lub-dub…
His heart...he could hear it beating. Sam's too...Michael squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun overhead. It felt like it was getting stronger, the closer they got. He drew to a stop, grasping at his chest and kneeling down at the end of the steps. "Shit…" He gasped, taking in a deep breath.
Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub…
"Mike?! You alright?" He took the steps two at a time, coming to a stop beside him, "Hey, man, come on, you're scaring me more than I am."
"It's nothing…" Michael closed his eyes, "I think maybe...maybe I'm having a panic attack." Granted, he had never had one in his life, but he didn't doubt a trauma like what they'd been through couldn't have somehow triggered it. "We should go," he rasped.
Sam glanced into the hotel, "But…" He trailed off with a sigh, "Fine, fine, let's go."
David stretched slowly as night fell. He had felt Michael show up, had felt him make his way to the entrance of the hotel. If he had just come a little closer, come into the hotel with his little brother, this could have all been over. He was pleased though, that Michael had left. He had an idea that would be a lot of fun and it involved some of their favorite things. Kidnapping, murder, all the good things in the world.
He hummed softly, "Boys, we had a little visitor while we were sleeping. I think it might be just about time." He moved to the entrance, looking out over the water. With those little instigators taken care of, they hadn't even had to worry about moving from their sleeping spot. After all, Michael would never let his little brother come in here alone and coming himself, well, that would bring him to David. Of course Michael didn't want to do that.
Marko stretched his arms below his head and yawned, "are we taking care of them all tonight, or-...?" He was the first one to be injured, and he'd missed the main party. There was no love lost from Marko on the Emersons or the Frogs. He'd been the one to take the first bite, actually.
"We're gonna wait a couple more days. We'll go get Michael then." David replied "Let him enjoy his last few days of freedom before we come for him."
No one argued his point. They all wanted this to last. Like cats batting at a half-dead mouse, they wanted to hear the screeching until it died out. Michael was the end game, getting him to feed, to fall, that was what they were going for. It was fun to watch him scamper around while the boys waited for the perfect moment in which to take him out. They wouldn't have to wait too much longer. Michael was already falling, they just had to be there when he hit the ground.
There was nothing as satisfying as corrupting someone like Michael, so very determined to do what was right in the face of the impossible. They had all been there, once, after all. The pesky thing about having a soul was that you never really reached your full potential until it was gone. When all was said and done, he'd thank David. They just had to show him the way things were done, how much fun it could be without a conscience. Humanity was overrated anyway. If Star had a little bit more fire in her, they might have even wanted to keep her too. But...well...David didn't much care for catering to a princess anyway. That's what she'd easily have become, if things had gone according to Max's little arrangement.
"I'll get the playpen set up tonight," Dwayne remarked dryly as he unlatched his feet from the perch and sailed down to the ground.
"Alright, let's make sure everything is ready. This is going to be a blast." David grinned, "Sweet dreams, Michael. We'll be seeing you soon."
"Do you think this is a joke?!" Lucy exploded, slamming her purse on the table and glaring back and forth at her sons while her father snuck behind her and slipped from the room. "Do you think I don't do things for a reason? That I'm just...that I'm someone you can walk all over, just because I'm not as tough as your father?"
Michael guiltily averted his eyes as he sat at the table with a glass of cranberry juice, "it was Sam's fault, mom…" He'd started the bus, kicked the engine into high gear, put a brick on the accelerator, and dived out before throwing his little brother right in front of it.
Lucy turned her angry gaze on her youngest, "Sam...how could you?"
"But, what? What'd I do?!" He whimpered, looking up at her.
She turned back to the fridge, yanking a package of ice-rock solid liver and dropping it on the table, "I took that out to defrost for a reason. Now what do you think we're going to do for dinner tonight, hm? There's no more tuna! Your grandpa ate the last of the cereal!"
Sam looked at Michael, "I didn't do it, he did it! Blended it into his shake!"
Lucy raised her eyebrows in alarm, "you mean to tell me that you went out and bought another package, then? Then you tossed it in the freezer and decided to pretend nothing happened? You left the house when I explicitly told you not to?"
Michael glared at Sam, taking a noisy gulp of his juice and remaining silent. But his eyes pretty much said it all…'you are going to get it when her back is turned.'
"It was fine! I went with him, we went straight to the store and back." He grumbled, at least he could stick up for him.
"I'll make pancakes, mom. We can have breakfast for dinner…" Michael finally suggested, lowering his glass. He cringed. It tasted way too sour.
"Oh, okay. Pancakes. Pancakes will just change the fact that neither of you decided to at least consult with me before you broke my trust. Great. I'm glad we can just solve everything with breakfast food…" Lucy sighed, exasperated as she ran a hand over her head. Then she took a deep breath and stood there for a moment while she tried to think. "I know it seems a little crazy that I want you boys to stay at home right now, but I asked you to. This is a two-way street. I need you to respect my decisions, even if you don't agree with them."
Michael grabbed at his chest, flinching as he felt the overwhelming wave of industrial-strength mom guilt washing over him. "I'm sorry, mom. Sam's sorry too. But I'm sorrier."
"You're going to make pancakes. But you're not stopping there. You're making eggs and bacon, too. I also expect fresh squeezed orange juice," Lucy told them both, her frown finally melting into a slight smile. "Just don't do that again, okay? Don't leave the house without telling me, that's all I ask."
"Alright, promise." Sam smiled back slightly before looking at Michael, "I'll do the OJ."
He gave him a two-fingered salute in response as he slumped at his chair, "sounds good to me. Just don't burn it, huh?" He snarked. Sam could figure out a way to burn anything.
He rolled his eyes, "I won't, promise." He punched his arm, "Asshole." He whispered so mom wouldn't hear.
"Hey, watch your mouth," Michael admonished, standing up and leaning over to ruffle Sam's hair, despite his best efforts to dodge him. When Lucy left, he snatched up his half-empty glass and strode over to the kitchen sink to dump it out, "I think things are going to get better, Sam. We just need to try to put that 'stuff' behind us, huh?" He didn't really believe what he was saying, but maybe some day he would.
He nodded, "I think so too." He didn't really believe it either but he hoped, he hoped it would get better.
"I think I'm gonna go take a nap before we start cooking," Michael yawned. "That trip took a lot out of me. Don't let me forget to hock this stupid jacket tomorrow, huh?" He slipped it off, belatedly realizing he was still wearing it.
Sam scowled, "Alright, don't be too long, okay? You don't want me to burn the house down."
After dinner, Michael could almost believe what he'd told Sam. It had been nice, just sitting together and chatting. Kind of like the days before they moved to Phoenix, when dad 'worked late nights', so he wasn't around to start a pointless argument. He was pretty sure that nap had screwed up his sleep schedule, though. Getting close to nine, and he wasn't even remotely tired when he went upstairs to take a hot bath. No bubbles. No singing. That was Sam's domain of weird, not his.
The water was so hot, it fogged up the mirror. Even long after he'd drained the tub and gotten dressed in a pair of boxers and a white sleep shirt. When Michael drew his hand towards the doorknob, he couldn't help but glance nervously towards his fogged-up reflection. All of the steam made it look blurry and faded...he couldn't help but shiver at the sight. He could swear he was developing a phobia of mirrors these days. On some level, he was kind of scared to look in one.
He forced himself to turn away, ignoring the nagging feeling that the fog shouldn't be quite that thick...he shouldn't look quite that...blurred...he was going to follow his own advice to Sam, even if it killed him. He'd make himself turn a blind eye to those lingering fears and feelings every step of the way until he really believed there was nothing left to be scared of. Maybe he'd borrow some valium from mom. Just for tonight. Unfortunately, he'd decided to make a habit of it for the next two nights as well.