Author's notes: Is it just me, or is it really hard to find a fun horror flick these days? Seems like a lot of really poorly-written scripts get through with weird SFX to match. Anyway, not really relevant. But I will say Lost Boys wouldn't be nearly as good if it didn't have Schumacher behind it, or wasn't made when it was. Came out at the perfect time.

David tilted his head down with a smirk and dropped his cigarette to the ground so he could crush it under his boot heels, as Michael approached with his little brother in tow. It seemed like no matter what, as long as his family stayed in Santa Carla, the kid would always be an albatross around their necks. Most of his problems could be solved with killing. In the face of one like this, when his mate was finally on the verge of completely letting go...just wringing Sam Emerson's neck wasn't going to cut it. Somehow, some way, he'd have to convince Michael getting his family to leave Santa Carla was for the best. He had his work cut out for him.

"Brought a snack for us?" He lifted his head and smirked at the pair, Sam still squirming under Michael's grip.

"Not the time, David," Michael replied darkly. Clearly he wasn't in the mood for jokes...the headache from that shit last night probably didn't help too much.

"Careful there, you're gonna hurt him if you squeeze too tight," David replied dryly, noting the force with which Michael's fingers dug into his brother's shoulders. He probably didn't even realize how rough he was being. If his claws were out, the muscle and skin beneath would have been shredded by now.

Michael's grip relaxed and he gave his brother a very firm warning glare. Sam seemed to get the message, because he stood his ground and nervously tucked his hands into his tacky coat pocket while he kept his gaze firmly fixed on a speck of dirt near his feet. He probably didn't even know running would just make them want to chase him. There was nothing better than a meal on the go. As it was, they'd been more than fair pretending the little bastard didn't exist after his episode on the beach and what he'd done at the cave. Both times. Just thinking about it was enough to nearly push David over the edge.

"Sam," Michael said his brother's name calmly, "don't be a baby. Look up. The sooner you do, the sooner we can get this over with."

A couple passed by, locked arm-in-arm, pausing to watch the group before quickly averting their eyes and shuffling on. It wasn't uncommon for anyone who just so happened to be seen in the same places with the Lost Boys to turn up missing later. There was nothing they could do for him, even if they wanted. It took a lot of time to condition the locals as well as they had, David mused while Sam finally seemed to have gotten the hint and turned his eyes upwards to lock on his first.

David could do a thousand things just with that gesture alone. He could make the kid think larvae were hatching under his eyelids. He could make him think his skin was burning from the inside out. He could even do a million things the others couldn't, because when Max got offed, he inherited all of the power the old bastard had hoarded for himself. And man, it would be hilarious to just let his imagination run wild. But for now, he'd be good. Sam didn't know it. Hell, Michael didn't even know it either...but this was the kid's last chance. If he behaved, the worst thing that could come out of this meeting was a nightmare or two. If he got another stupid idea in his head, Michael would just have to get over it. Even if it took him a few decades.

"Nice to meet ya again, Sam. Last time we talked, Marko was pretty sore with you," David drawled, looking back at Marko, who leaned forward and licked his lips. Sam flinched, stepping a little further back, only to find himself colliding into Dwayne behind him.

David turned to Dwayne and winked, "this one's yours. Have fun."

Michael frowned, "do what you have to if it means getting him to stay home. Just don't kill him."

Dwayne looked over at Michael with a raised eyebrow, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"What? I don't get even a little of the action? That hurts...it really does," Marko feigned a sigh.

David rolled his eyes "hey, there's two more left we're still going to fuck with tonight, so you'll get your turn too."

"They're kinda boring, Davey. All they do is whine and scream. No real fight when you get them worked up enough," Paul chimed in.

Star remained silent, eyes focused on Sam. She didn't like the Frog brothers. Maybe they'd tried to save her and Michael, but they'd almost staked Laddie. What's more, she vaguely recalled them plotting to do the same to her before Michael carried her out of the hotel. No, there would be no love lost on them if they ended up dead tonight. But she had no reason to hate Michael's little brother. So David honestly doubted she'd be of much use intimidating him unless she had to.

Sam pulled away from Dwayne, spinning about to face him with a whimper. "Hey, Michael's one of you now...so...it's behind us, right? All over? We're good?" He stammered hopefully, plucking at his shirt sleeves.

"Well, Dwayne? Are you 'good'?" David asked aloud, casual as he tucked a fresh cigarette between his lips and cupped his hands over it with a lighter.

Remaining immovable, Dwayne just stared Sam down, silent.

"Guess that's a yes," Marko snickered and bit the thumb of his glove.

"They look like best buddies. Probably going to trade fashion tips and chat about boy toys pretty soon," Paul cooed.

Dwayne smoothed back his hair, and he couldn't help smirking, "you're ruining my moment."

Michael leaned in to his brother's ear and patted him on the shoulder, "they're assholes, Sam. I have to live with them on a daily basis. So just take a deep breath, say what you need to say, and we can speed this up."

David slammed a hand into his chest as if he'd been mortally wounded, "ouch. My heart. That's not very nice. Was that nice, Paul?"

"No, I don't think so. What do you think, Star?" Paul grinned.

She just rolled her eyes and replied with absolutely no inflection whatsoever, just to hurry the game up, "no. It wasn't. 'Was it nice, Marko?'" Honestly, sometimes she really took the fun out of this.

"No, it-" Marko began.

"Okay, I get it! I just wanted you guys to give Ed and Alan some bad dreams so they'd stop bugging me, okay?! I don't wanna die, I know coming out here was stupid, and I'll never do it again!" Sam exclaimed, tensing his shoulders and squeezing his eyes shut to await the killing blow.

And just to fuck with him, they all remained silent. None of them even moved while Sam waited for a response. Each passing second freaked him out a little more, giving him plenty of time to work up his imagination and really let his stupid actions hit home.

"What do you want to do, boys?" David struck up a pleasant conversation while they waited for Sam to open his eyes. Looked like he was breaking into a sweat now. The smug leader of their pack was almost proud of the way Michael remained unphased throughout. Even crossed back towards his bike to lean against it, leaving Sam standing barely a foot away from Dwayne, rushing through mental prayers and pleas.

"Give them all some dreams. I don't think reality hits home for the others like it might for this one. Show him what's going to happen if he bothers us again," Dwayne decided, crossing his arms and glancing back towards Michael.

"If that's what it takes. It's out of my hands now," Michael shrugged. "I did my best. He just doesn't listen."

"Do you know what you're agreeing to, Michael?" David glanced over at his mate with a thin smile, pulling his lips back to simply let the smoke drift slowly from them.

Michael remained pensive, finally pulling away from his bike and calling out to his brother, "Sam. We'll help you. Just...go home." He paused. "Tell mom the truth about what you did tonight, too. I will if you don't."

Long after the little twerp had disappeared through the crowd, David kept his gaze fixed on Michael. Hell, maybe the fact that his brother kept pulling stupid stunts like this was a blessing in disguise. After all, as nice as he was being, Michael owed him a pretty big favor now. He already had a good idea of what it was, too.

"Okay, so, I drew up a map on the back of my history textbook when we were watching Sam today, I've got a pretty good diagram of the front yard...tomorrow, I think we'll have to do some work around the back, figure out the layout, exactly where we want to set the trap-" Edgar looked up at Alan from across the coffee table, where his brother was just sitting on the easy chair, motionless and murmuring. He'd been like that since they got home, and it was driving Edgar crazy. He couldn't get a lick of sense out of him, and he really didn't know what to do!

"Alan! Pay attention!"

Alan slowly looked towards Edgar, and then down at the opened textbook in front of them with the crude drawings in crayon and pencil. He slowly leaned forward and gripped the edge of the book to slam it closed. "We are not going back there. Ever."

"What do you mean?! This is the perfect-" Edgar nearly exploded, when Alan jumped up to his feet and shook his head wildly.

"EDGAR. THE GUY. EATS. RAW. MEAT! HE'S A MANIAC!"

"...What?"

"I saw it. Through the window. The freaky old dude was just...he had a...thing in his fridge. A possum. A raccoon. Maybe a monkey. I don't know...it was all skinned and bloody. Then he carved it up and tossed it...piece by piece...into a blender...and he drank it like a fruit smoothie, ed! A SMOOTHIE! I think he even tossed in some instant pudding mix and garlic..I dunno...for flavor, or texture, or something..."

Edgar wrinkled his nose, resisting the urge to gag at the image in his mind's eye, "you were just seeing things."

"No, I wasn't!"

"Maybe he's on a special diet."

"What kind of diet...what...how are...EDGAR, GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD, THIS IS OVER! WE NEED TO STOP! It's like...it's like no matter what, when we try to make something up or you come up with an idiotic plan, somehow we stumble into...stuff like this! I'm not doing it anymore, okay? I'm not! You should've seen his face when he caught me watching him...he had veins all around his lips, Ed...spidery...thin blue and purple veins...they were like freaky-ass spider legs crawling out of his mouth!" Alan was stomping around the living room now, gesticulating with his hands at unseen things, practically screaming at the top of his lungs.

"Hey!" Edgar hissed, opening his book up again, "you need to cool it! You know how mom and dad get around this time of the month!"

Alan slowed to a halt, rubbing at his eyes with his hands and then muffling a frustrated curse, exhausted. Every time their mom had some aunt visiting, they'd lock themselves up in their room for like...three days...and god forbid they ever be reminded they had two teenage sons in the other room. As if it made a difference when they were acting normal by their definition anyway.

"I get it, Alan. You're tired. Not thinking with a clear head. Probably still mixed-up after that accident with those bloodsuckers...just go to bed. I'll work up some more plans and we'll talk about this in the morning," Edgar grunted, looking down at his textbook and coloring in a shaded spot with more red crayon.

And Alan, for his part, really didn't know what else to say. With Ed, everything was always 'in one ear and out the other' if he didn't have his way. Well, whatever. Fine. If Ed decided to follow Sam again tomorrow to that creepy house, he'd be doing it alone. And this time, there was no way in hell a speech about American spirit and justice would convince him. NO way!