Author's notes: Almost used a quote from Lysistrata, like I'd used a reference to Orpheus and Eurydice in the last story, but all the best ones reference women. And as funny as it might be, referring to Mike as a lady on a sex strike against her husband just didn't seem to make much sense. But it's an amusing thought. They are reading an English book, by the way, so the page numbers won't really match up with the actual books. That's my excuse for not knowing it right now, because my only copy available right now is on my kindle. And yes, Falcon, you hit the nail on the head last review.

Sam yawned, stretching his arms behind his seat, before a very irritated girl behind him poked his back with her pencil. Stacy. Class bitch. He flinched at the thought. Great, now he was turning into a jerk on top of the crazy and the raw tiny animal diet.

"You're leaning on my desk," she hissed, glaring at him when Sam turned to give her a questioning look. He shrugged, returning to a sitting position and slumping a bit lower in his chair. That morning, he hadn't had trouble waking up. But the Frogs didn't know that...which was why they showed up around breakfast kitted out in their army surplus supplies as if they were ready to stake him instead of serve as living alarm clocks. He could have punched Ed and Alan for the way they made his mom freak out, acting like Red Dawn had hit Santa Carla or something.

Since the incident with Max, and definitely since Mike went on the run with his girlfriend, Lucy had been a little bit more protective of her youngest son...and a little bit more paranoid that certain fantastical things could happen, that she might not have even wasted her breath on before. Because when you find out vampires do exist, and they're more than happy to come after your family members, it tends to make an impact.

"Sam Emerson, will you read the next passage?" His English teacher, Mrs. Bloom, demanded from the front of the class. The woman who somehow always seemed to spot anyone at the exact moment their brains detached themselves from the thinking space to wonder free in the outer realms of reality, where page numbers and grammatical essays couldn't reach them.

"Uh...y...yeah?" Sam replied hesitantly, looking down at his English book.

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the sound of flipping pages as Sam tried to figure out their spot.

"Chapter twenty one, Dracula, Mister Emerson. Begin at the top of page 364."

Sam nodded, clearing his throat, "'Rats, rats, rats! Hundreds, thousands, millions...'" He trailed off, paling slightly.

"Mister Emerson. Continue." She was getting impatient.

"Right...right. Yeah. Um...'millions of them, and every one a life. And dogs to eat them, and cats too. All lives! All red...'" This part was too close for comfort. Each word Sam read was like a nail being pounded into his skull, reminding him of a sudden craving sneaking into his mind and his stomach. Rats...cats...dogs...the master would give them to him one day soon, wouldn't he? The master wouldn't let Sam go hungry!

"Samuel!" Mrs. Bloom dropped a book on her desk, causing a very loud 'BOOM' to very rudely drag him out of his mad wanderings. Sam gave her a very quick, very dark glare, to which she raised her eyebrows. "Is there something wrong with you?!" She demanded, when Sam realized exactly what he was doing and quickly looked down at his book.

"Sorry, Mrs. Bloom. Not feeling well. Ah...'all red blood, with years of life in it, and not merely buzzing flies! I laughed at him, for I wanted to see what he could do. Then the dogs howled, away beyond the dark trees in his house...' I can't do this." Sam shook his head, pushing his book away.

"What do you mean you 'can't do this'?" Mrs. Bloom asked, incredulous. "You don't have a choice. Not until you get to the end of the passage."

"Yeah? And what are you going to do about it if I don't?" Sam reeled back saucily, gazing back at her with a fierce heat in his voice. A voice that he hardly recognized. Nervous laughter filtered through the classroom. Some people found this funny, others became suddenly very aware that it was possible...just possible...that Sam, the quiet geek, very well might be one of those kids who brought a knife or gun to school and snapped without so much as a warning.

Mrs. Bloom's mouth fluttered like a fish trying to breathe in open air, and god Sam wished he didn't think of fish right then. He really should apologize for acting like a jerk, but he could hardly force his own voice to obey him. So he just...stared Mrs. Bloom down, and soon she was wordlessly pointing to the door.

"P...Principal..." She stated waveringly, tearing her eyes away from Sam's face. And...he was almost amused to realize he'd kinda scared her.

There was a bright side to being sent to the principal's, Sam mused, as he stepped into the waiting area and checked in with the receptionist at the front desk. This was the domain of the Frog brothers, and they were already sitting near a potted plant awaiting their final daily judgment.

Edgar looked over at Sam, grinning, "Sam! Smart thinking. Get yourself sent here so we don't have to wait until lunch to make a plan of action. I like that." He grunted as Sam walked over to them and flopped down in a chair just opposite theirs in the square waiting area.

"Wasn't on purpose," Sam shook his head, staring at the potted plant beside the Frog brothers. Little tiny ants were crawling over some of the tiny leaves. It was fake, but under the soft glare of the fluorescent lights above, Sam could see a sticky substance clinging to the plastic greenery...someone had probably spilled coke on it. He just barely managed to keep himself from licking his lips. Ants...very, very little lives...

"You don't have to cover. We know you wanted to see us, since we didn't get to talk much this morning while your mom drove us to school. Completely understand why you wanna keep her in the dark. Womenfolk don't need to be exposed to this kinda stuff," Alan nodded sagely at his own words as he spoke.

"Look, guys, I need to tell ya something...but you gotta promise me you won't freak out." Sam wasn't sure why he was about to tell them this, but if he expected them to help in some way, then...well, they had to know.

"Yeah? What is it? Did he come back and decide to go ahead and make you a halfie?" Edgar leaned forward with a frown, patting at his coat, and Sam didn't doubt he probably had a sharpened pencil beneath it as an emergency stake, should the need arise to do a little vampire hunting. He almost scowled...had Ed already considered the possibility of taking Sam out? At school?!

"My brother's back."

The Frogs looked at each other, and then quickly back at Sam, "so he finally nailed the suckers? Got them off his trail for good?" Edgar raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected Sam's brother to ever manage something like that off...which was just as well, really...because he didn't.

"No." Sam shook his head.

"So he's giving up? Taking one final stand in the city it all began? A fight at sunset on the beach?" Alan joined in, and Sam could almost imagine the scene playing out in the Frog brothers' head. A beach western sequence...possibly starring Yule Brinner as Michael.

"No." Sam replied, voice wavering. If they even thought for a second he'd be adding slaying his brother to their agenda, they had another thing coming. Granted, his shoulder still ached where he'd had to bandage them last night, but his jerky big brother hadn't really meant to do that. He hoped.

Edgar frowned, "...if he didn't kill them...and he's not going to...and he's not giving up..." The wheels in his brain slowly squeaked to life, and the Frog brothers gazed at each other in silent thought. They didn't look like they were quite making the right connections as fast as Sam had hoped.

"Jesus Christ, guys! My brother's a shit-sucker! A full one, this time!" Sam shouted, getting an angry look from the receptionist for his outburst. He smiled at her sheepishly and ducked his head, sinking down in his chair and covering his face.

"You're gonna need to get yourself a good sharp stake-" Edgar began the speech, to which Sam leaned over across the sitting area and kicked him in the shin.

"OW!" Edgar grunted, pulling his legs back and staring at Sam incredulously. "Calm down, rat-muncher! We're just trying to help you!"

"Why is your solution to my problems always 'kill your brother', huh?!"

Alan shrugged, "that's not true. When you got grease on your jeans, we told you club soda would clean it. And honestly, you're lucky. Sometimes I wish staking Ed would solve all my problems."

Edgar looked over at his brother with a frown, and Alan smirked, "kidding. Kidding."

"Anyway, Mike said they're gonna help me. And gramps said if I wait a few weeks, the master's blood will flush out of my system," he felt a twist in his heart at the thought. Parting with the master?! Why would he want to do such a thing? Wait...why wouldn't he? God damn it, he was getting tired of these freaky thoughts messing with his head.

"It's not gonna be too easy, Sam. I think the longer you go without seeing the...'master'-" Edgar held up his fingers in quotations as he said the last word, "-the crazier you're gonna feel. And he's probably not going to be cool with just letting his slave run off on him like that. We'll help you too, but under no circumstances do we wanna get involved with that bloodsucker you call a brother. You're gonna have to figure out a way for us to be in different rooms when you need us so we don't lose control and let our hunter's instincts take over. Trust me, sooner or later, you'll thank us if you just go ahead and give us the okay to off him," Edgar sounded way too casual about killing Mike for Sam's comfort.

Sam crossed over to the potted plant while Ed spoke, unable to control himself any longer. He quickly ripped off a few of the plastic leaves with the largest clusters of ants and shoved them in his mouth.

"UGH! GROSS!" Alan exclaimed, jumping out of his chair and scooting further away from Sam, who just shrugged.

"I ate live goldfish the night before last," he mumbled through a mouthful of plastic as he tried to swallow all the ants without choking, "this is nothing."

They sat together in a line along the side of the bridge, passing a joint back and forth, long after the train had passed for the night. Star sat beside Michael, every so often looking over at him expectantly when she'd rub at her shoulders, though she wore a jacket. He should be putting an arm around her by now, she thought to herself. Yes, he had been clingy lately, but now...now he wasn't even paying much attention to her, aside from strange little pensive looks he'd give her when he thought she wasn't looking. It had started when they got back from their hunt on the beach. Michael and David had been off alone again. Did he say or do something again to get himself in trouble?

And David, who sat on the other side of Michael, smoke drifting from his mouth while he just relaxed and soaked in the night fog brushing against his boots, he looked far too happy with himself. After they woke up, neither of them had said much. Not when they grabbed a bite to eat. Not when they took a trip to the bridge tonight. Nothing. Frankly, it was driving her crazy.

"Looks like soup," Paul remarked on the other side of Star, peering down into the fog below.

"Looks like fog," Dwayne replied matter-of-factly.

"Hey, I'm trying to make poetry here, dick," Paul retorted.

"I don't think one simile counts as a poem. One tired, over-used, unrealistic simile," Dwayne just shook his head.

Marko grinned, biting his thumb, "you read too much."

Dwayne shrugged, "and you jerk it too much."

"You mean those aren't birth marks on his dick?" Paul asked with a snicker.

Star wrinkled her nose in disgust, "you're disgusting. All of you."

Paul pressed up against her side with a dark smile, "betcha love that, don't you? Betcha got all kinds of dirty thoughts goin' through your head right now about what you'd like to-"

"Dude. Stop." Michael leaned forward, frowning at Paul. And it almost made up for the fact that he didn't have an arm around her shoulders.

Paul threw up his hands in surrender, "hey, hey, no need to get your panties in a knot. Just a little pillow talk, Mikey. Don't you like pillow talk?" He looked over at David, "hey, Davey, doesn't he like pillow talk?"

David looked over at Paul with a smirk and a shrug, "dunno. But if you were looking for some tips for Star..." he peered at her darkly, "she likes to have her hair pulled."

Michael's eyes widened and he looked back and forth at them, then Star, and he didn't need to say anything. The words were written on his face. She blushed, "you never asked." And god, she really didn't want to have this conversation right now. Not with the others sitting around with those stupid grins they always had, as if everything remotely sexual was some kind of joke. And privacy...privacy with the Lost Boys was an illusion. She'd learned that fact the hard way the first time around. It was funny, in a way, that she didn't like to discuss bedroom matters with the boys without getting horribly flustered, but that she had pretty much learned to kill people...human beings...without batting an eye, and that too far faster than she'd ever thought she would. Because she wasn't one of them anymore, and the more she fed, the stronger that conviction became in her mind.

By the time they'd begun to head for their bikes, Michael held back at the edge of the group, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. David didn't need to be told. He knew Michael wanted to talk to him. And since he didn't know about their ability to casually read each other's minds, David didn't see any reason to shatter the illusion of privacy by bringing it up yet.

"Something you wanna talk about, Michael?" David asked, walking over to his childe and running a finger tip along Michael's shoulder idly, pulling away just before Michael moved to angrily shrug it off.

"Yeah. My brother. You still haven't told me what we're going to do," Michael replied, taking his hands out of his pockets and putting his hands together to pop his knuckles. David wrinkled his nose at that. Nasty habit.

"I'm keeping an eye on the kid, don't worry," David shrugged. It was true. Thorne was pulling night duty at the Emerson property. Not that he could do too much to another vampire besides deter him with a few nasty bites, but it would probably be enough to drive the fishy fuck away long enough for David to find out he was there.

"Okay. So you're keeping an eye on him. What else are we going to do?"

David rolled his eyes, tucking a cigarette between his lips and striking a match, speaking from the corner of his mouth as he lit it, "you heard the boys. There's a surfing contest coming up. We'll find out tomorrow night on the boardwalk when it is, and we'll find him then. As long as we keep your little bro safe and far away from him, he'll be fine after a few weeks. When we kill off the nest, everything will be bright and sunny again." He took a drag from his cigarette and smirked at Michael, who seemed to be relaxing somewhat. He'd been pretty tense since they woke up. It was clear enough why. The kid hadn't slept too well, all alone in his little corner.

He could tell Michael a lot of things, explain exactly why he wasn't going to last a month, but David honestly doubted it would do much good besides piss him off. Michael really was someone who had to learn by example, not words alone. Impulsive. That was the word. Michael was impulsive. Acted without thinking. If David just came out and told him there was a lot more to the 'mating' thing than he'd let on, it would only piss the kid off. And he'd deny it anyway. Insist he was somehow stronger than his instincts. But if that were true, he never would have jumped off the bridge with them, would he?

"David," Michael ground out, and he shifted to one foot, not really wanting to ask the question he had in mind, but knowing he really probably had to. And David smirked when he listened into his childe's mind before the words were even spoken.

"A month. You gave me a month. Why is it so fucking important to you that I don't even touch her, though?" Michael demanded. And David resisted the urge to snort, because he could already sense exactly what sort of tension was bugging Michael, and the kid had it firmly in his mind that it must be because he couldn't fool around with Star. The denial was strong in this one.

"You really want me to tell you, Michael?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Damn it, David, you're starting to piss me off."

"So what else is new?" David flicked some ashes from his cigarette and looked back towards the boys in the distance, who'd climbed on their bikes and were listening to the conversation as if they were standing right beside him. "You can only live alone so long." David shrugged.

"What?" Michael shook his head, confused.

"Packs. Those help. But we're not human, Michael. We're predators. We kill. We feed. We fuck. It's a wild ride, but it starts to get to you after awhile. Eventually we all need someone even closer than pack to help keep us from completely losing our minds to the blood lust. It's a fine balance, Michael."

"What does this have to do with anything I just asked you? Are we even having the same conversation?" Michael scowled. He was getting impatient. Good. David liked to watch him squirm.

David continued talking, as if Michael hadn't interrupted him, "so we pick someone. Doesn't matter who. I picked you. Not at first, mind you. I wanted you as pack, first. But when you almost killed me..." David licked his fangs and grinned, "I made up my mind then and there. So maybe there's a little revenge involved, and maybe it's because I liked the challenge. I knew you really were a born killer, even if you didn't want to see it. Sooner or later, you were going to be mine. So...now you are." David spread his hands, cigarette clasped between two fingers on his right hand leaving a trail of white smoke as he moved, like he was casting a spell. And the way Michael watched and listened to him, it was almost as if he had. His voice was soothing. Relaxing. Michael shook himself out of it, frowning.

"I'm not." Michael shook his head. "You're just an asshole."

David chuckled, "keep fighting. You've still got the rest of the month to think what you want, Michael. Honestly, I'm just making sure you don't touch Star for your own good. Trust me...you won't like it. Not anymore."

Michael scowled, shoving past David and flipping him the bird, "fuck off, David. Just fuck right off."