A/N—Disclaimer: I don't own Lost Boys. The movie, and all the characters and happenings contained within it, belong to whoever owns Lost Boys. And it's not me.

Many thanks to everyone who has followed/favorited this story! And also, a HUGE thank you to lost boys luvr, AutumnKrystal, Wolves in the Forest, Angu Maaka, and one anonymous Guest for reviewing this story. I've tried to answer all reviews, but some people either have PMs disabled or are anonymous. To those I couldn't answer-another thank you for reading this. Thanks to everyone! I really appreciate it.

All eyes were on Paul: Dwayne's dark ones, brooding and slightly worried—David's grey, clouded, unreadable—and Marko's darker grey eyes, still sparkling with enthusiasm, still young and innocent and free.

"Paul—"

"Can I put him to bed?" The words were hard in coming, but he forced them out. He didn't want Marko to see Max's wrath. Even though the boy was used to seeing the flickers of vampirism on their faces, he'd never seen it accompanied by true anger.

Max ignored him. The man's face was incredibly dark, his eyes practically spitting out his ire. They feared his visits for a reason. He generally found a reason to be mad at them, and if he found a genuine reason to be so, his wrath was inevitable and absolutely miserable for them.

"Read to me?" Marko asked as Paul put him into his bed—they'd dismantled the crib about a year ago.

"Not tonight," Paul murmured, tucking him in and kissing his forehead. But Marko was adamant, even crawling out of bed and pulling out his most recently favorited picture book. He looked pleadingly at the older boy.

"Not tonight," Paul repeated, easing the book from Marko's hands and putting it back on the shelf. "I've got to go work, okay?"

"Okay…"

He tucked Marko in once more and sat by him for a few minutes, until he fell into a light sleep, and then he crept from the room, back into the battle zone.

"—A CHILD!" Max was roaring, towering over the two other vampires in his fury. "YOU TOOK IN A CHILD! BESIDES BEING TOTALLY, COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY, WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE FAMILY—"

"There isn't a family," David cut in right as Paul said "We're his only family," and Dwayne insisted that "Marko doesn't have any family anymore."

Max stared at the three of them, and once again growled, "Explain…"

David and Dwayne looked at Paul, and he whispered, "We're his only family. His mother is dead—look!" And he turned and pulled the family photo album from underneath a table stacked with various objects, slipping the notice from the paper out of the front and handing it to Max. "She was his mother. She died three years ago, and she left a newborn son. She…she was crazy. She ran from the hospital, and I found her in an alleyway. She asked me to take care of him…and I did."

Max's eyes narrowed even more, and his voice was low and unnaturally smooth when he spoke. "Get rid of it."

Paul's heart stopped.

"What?" It was David who spoke. "I—what? We could use him, you know. To get Star, that young woman you wanted us to get. She knows Paul and Marko from the Boardwalk, and we could lure her over with him—" Was his voice frantic? Paul wasn't sure. It couldn't be. David hated the child. Why would he grasp at straws to keep him?

"No. Kidnap her like you've kidnapped every other person I've told you to get. You never cared about luring them in before. Hold her down and make her drink the blood if you have to—you've done it before. But get rid of that child."

None of them spoke, not daring to risk interrupting Max.

"I'm coming back three years from now—I don't like the three of you well enough to come back sooner. But I'm warning you. If I come back, and that kid's still here—if I hear around the shop that you've still got it, that you've disobeyed me—"

"Please…" It came out strangled. He hadn't planned on speaking, but the word had been dragged from him. The pain in his chest was horrid, and every childish sign of Marko's presence around the hotel was haunting him, taunting him.

"NO! Get. Rid. Of. It."

Max spun around and left.

They didn't speak.

Paul sank onto one of the couches and tried to put the newspaper notice back in the photo album. His fingers were numb, and he didn't seem to have the strength to lift up plastic cover.

"We have three years," David said.

"Why do you care?" Dwayne asked, and for the first time Paul heard a hint of resentment in his voice.

David sat next to Paul and replaced the notice, though he didn't put the album back. He flipped through it, looking at all the pictures. They were bad quality, nothing special, but Paul had pictures of every stage of Marko's life. He had photographed him sleeping, playing, reading, eating, crawling, walking, running…

"After three years Marko starts to grow on you," David muttered, snapping the album shut in a last second attempt to hide his admission.

They sat in silence for a little while, and then Paul said, "And what happens when they see him on the Boardwalk?"

"They won't," David answered. "No more Boardwalk for Marko. We'll keep him here—he can play outside on the beach when it's dark enough for us to watch him. But keep him on a regular sleep schedule. Don't let him start sleeping during the day. We'll send him to school once he's old enough to go, and he can stay here and study, and…" he nodded. "We can pull it off, if we're careful."

Paul choked on his own tears, and he buried his face in his hands, hoping they wouldn't hear him.

David had come around.

They could keep Marko, if they were careful.

He stood up, wiping his eyes, and grabbed a book from the table.

"I'm going to go read him a book," he said. "He wanted one earlier." Sure enough, the door slipped open at that moment, and Marko poked his head out.

"Is the comp'ny gone?" he asked sweetly. "Read to me, Paul?"

Paul waved the book at him and smiled. "Yeah. If you go get in bed, I'll read a quick story to you."

Marko squealed and rushed about, giving a swift hug to each of the boys before dashing into his room and leaping on the bed (which he wasn't supposed to do.)

The deception had begun.