SUMMARY:

The Battle for Santa Carla has come to an end and the gang rises from the ruins beaten, battered, yet all around triumphant. But with the death of one vampire, the floodgates are suddenly reopened. What if David had met the Frog Brothers many years prior to the movie? It's a small world, after all. With a big boardwalk to boot.

Rated T for Language and Violence

Disclaimer: Still don't own the Lost Boys. Sad Face.

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CHAPTER ONE

Santa Carla, 1984.

Three years ago


...


It was gone.

Nothing more than a gutted corpse. Empty, striped, and held up by a new name, what used to be Rosco's Burger Shack—a timeless landmark of grease, weight gain, and grade-A calorie— was a shell of its former glory. David felt his lip curl the longer he stared at it. He stepped closer, ignoring the signs and sounds of ongoing construction from beyond the tarp, and peered inside. Dwyane had continued on, not realizing the other had ceased walking until he was nearly halfway down the pier.

"Hey man, what's up?" the brunet asked once he had doubled back. He glanced up at the store's 'Coming Soon' sign, confused.

A gaggle of teens brushed past them not bothering to watch where they were going and when the girls glanced back to apologize, they immediately brightened, whispering approval behind dainty palms. Dwyane grinned, flashing his most charming smile. David ignored them all, his mind somewhere else.

"You remember Rosco's, Dwayne?"

The man in question blinked before slowly turning back to take a good look at the shop's blocked-off windows. Distant shadows moved about behind a semi-transparent tarp and the noises of construction could be heard over the din of Santa Carla's nightlife.

From the corner of his eyes, Dwayne glanced back at David, perplexed. Was this another assessment or something? Being a fledge, it was quite possible he was due for another "answer-me-correctly-with-what-I-expect-to-hear" test. Dwyane cringed as memories of his turning flickered back. The blond had been damn-near merciless with his "trials of faith" and the man could only hope that he was wrong in his assumption.

The brunet quickly racked his brain for a reasonable response—something that wouldn't put him on David's shit-list before answering. "That's the...food joint with the shakes, right? I think I remember you picking dinner up from there once or twice." A side-eye from the blond had Dwayne smirking. The hidden meaning behind his statement hung in the air between them like a thick fog. Dinner that night had not been burgers and fries, but something a bit rarer. Something off the menu. "Why? What about it?"

"Didn't it used to be right here?"

Dwayne glanced down both ends of the pier, gauging out the nearby shops then shrugged. He shucked out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and popped one in between his teeth before answering. "Guess so. Ain't this the food district?" He lit a match, thinking the conversation was over, but as David continued to watch the shadows of hired help move about inside, Dwayne blinked. His hands halted mid-way to his mouth, the match still lit and burning towards his fingers. "Hey. You good, man?"

The blond glanced at him before grunting. "Let's go."

Dwayne nodded and lit the stick before waving out the flame. He began walking down the pier, trying to think back to where he had left off in their previous conversation. He stopped, however, when he realized David was once again, not behind him. He turned around just in time to see the blond reach out and open the shop's door.

"Wait, you serious?" He jogged back over, still confused over the appeal of a dilapidated storefront but a look from David had him instantly backpedaling. "I mean, don't you think it's a bit..." he gestured at the coming soon sign, "…lame?"

"What's wrong, Dwayne? Can't read?"

The man crossed his arms and sniffed. "Reading's for chumps."

"Then it's a good thing all of these books have pictures." The blond continued his previous motion, but Dwayne stepped forward.

"Wait, if this is a new store, then that means there is new ownership. Can we even go in with the whole…" he gestured widely to themselves, "…you know?"

"The sign says 'Welcome', Dwyane."

Actually, it said: Coming soon! May 14th. All customers welcomed! But tomato, to-mah-to. And as if to prove his point, David opened the door its remaining way and stepped past the threshold. When neither pain nor divine intervention struck him down, the man smirked, popped his collar, and strolled right on in.

It was time for an introduction.


...


His entrance was supposed to be smooth, compelling, dangerous. The man was a vampire after all. Everything about him was suave. Composed. Powerful.

But the moment David cleared the threshold, the blond nearly passed out as the smell of fresh paint hit his sinuses like a bus on the freeway. The man gagged, his hand reflexively snapping out to latch onto an empty display shelf for balance. His head spun. Behind him, the door chimed open.

"Son of a bitch," Dwayne choked as the fumes engulfed his own senses. "What the hell? How are these people not dead?"

The two men watched through watery eyes as the hired hands continued on with their jobs, unconcerned with the polluted air or their unconventional appearances. David waved a hand in front of his face and continued his way further in. "Just hold your breath. It's not like we need to breathe anyway."

"More like 'it's not like we need to be here anyway'," the brunet corrected, looking at him, exasperated. "Remind me again why—"

"Because Dwayne," David interjected, roughly grabbing the lapel of his jacket and bringing him down to eye level. When they were practically nose-to-nose, he sneered. "If there's a new joint setting up, then it would be important for them to know who runs this area, don't ya think?"

Fucking fledglings. Two months in and already David wanted to kill him. For real.

He let go, shoving the man back up to his height, and resumed his path down a random aisle. Though bare, the store was arranged by a maze of shelves and display cases that held little more than a coat of dust and a few smudges on the glass. Construction equipment cluttered the front counters—ranging from the usual tool assortments to out-of-place clumps of exposed wires, haphazardly thrown and tangled together. David turned towards the back wall, his eyes landing on a set of towering boxes stacked at erratic heights. Both columns leaned precariously to the left, just begging to be messed with.

Intrigued, he reached forward and pulled one of the many thin booklets out of its confinement, angling it up into the light. Bold colors and speckled font covered the surface of its front page and David scoffed before tossing it back into the top crate. Comic books. What a crock. But as he turned with the intent to leave, the labeling on the other box caught his attention. Snapping his hand forward, David grasped the first book he touched and scanned its summary.

"You've gotta be shittin' me," he mumbled while flipping it over to look at the cover. An exaggerated depiction of a vampire snarled back at him and David suppressed the urge to snicker as he studied it. "At least they got the blood right."

He glanced back into the box and smirked when he saw a wide selection of horror comics, each one stamped with a ridiculous illustration of a monster and their screaming, human victims. The blonde zeroed in on the ones with vampires as the main villains and without pause, grabbed a handful. He stuffed them haphazardly in his waistband and turned away to scrounge up Dwayne.

The brunet had sulked off, perusing down his own path through the shop. It was obvious that the man was sulking. David resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Despite what Max may have said about his potential, the fledge still had a lot to learn if he was going to run in with this crew. But who was David to question the video shop owner? While the blond may be the leader of this group, Max was the alpha of their clan—or what was left of it. And no one challenged the alpha, lest they risk an immediate execution.

And speaking of Max…

David glanced at his watch then raked a hand through his hair. They needed to get back to their side of the boardwalk before he sent out the search dogs. Literally, David thought, thinking of Thorne. The older vampire would be waiting for their routine check-in and with David's track record of time management, the blond knew his mind could not afford another tardy. Max's fetish for mental pain, punishment, humiliation was unlike any other.

Riling up the new store owners would have to wait until tomorrow, not that it was much of a letdown anyway. They were nowhere to be found.

"Can I help you?"

David jumped at the sudden voice, pausing his trek; it had come from behind him. He looked back over his shoulder, ready to tell whichever worker ballsy enough to address him to piss off. He raised an eyebrow, however, when he was met with open-air and rows upon rows of empty bookshelves. The hired help barely spared him a second glance, let alone made the effort to approach him.

"Down here, asshole."

David blinked then slowly lowered his gaze to the floor. Pale skin. Brown eyes. Bright hair nearly similar to his own—it was a kid. Dressed in a green shirt with the sleeves cut off and a ridiculous red bandana beneath long bangs, the boy couldn't have been much taller than his waist.

His upper lip began to curl the longer David studied him. "Hey. You deaf or somethin'?"

David glanced around at the ongoing construction in confusion before answering. He jerked his chin forward. "You seem a little young to be pulling wires, kid. What's it to ya?"

If the boy had been glaring before, his gaze was downright piercing as he sneered up at the older blond. His eyes flashed. "Who the hell are you? You're not a worker."

David chuckled before pulling out a cigarette and flipping open a zippo. "Solid deduction. What gave it away?" The kid squawked as the man's thumb flicked the small switch, igniting a flame.

"Hey! You're not allowed to smoke in here."

"Really?" David asked. He deliberately took a deep drag before snapping the lid close. "Says who?"

"Says me, asshole. This is my shop."

"Your shop? What are you—five?"

"Eleven. And technically you're trespassing on private property."

The older man laughed. "Private property? We're on a goddamn boardwalk. There is no private property." If it was private, David would have never made it past the threshold of the front door. He must have hit the alcohol a bit harder than he thought—was this ankle-biter actually serious? The kid gestured broadly to the area around them, his voice rising to be heard over the din of power tools.

"If you haven't noticed, the store isn't open to the public yet and we're currently not accepting any business 'til the fourteenth." He turned away and grabbed one of the boxes stacked against the back wall before continuing. "Now, I don't know who you are but if you're not a worker, a landlord, or a friend of the family then that means you're trespassing. So get lost before I call boardwalk security."

He stopped by the counter and smacked the top three times before plopping down the crate and sifting through its contents. A small head popped up from behind the island—another kid opposite in look, but identical in age. Deep, brown eyes narrowed in suspicion when they caught sight of the older male over the first kid's shoulder. "Who's he?"

His blond counterpart only shrugged in response, continuing to pull out stacks of comic books. He seemed content with ignoring the older male's presence altogether. David rolled his eyes, already bored. His gaze drifted over to the labeling on the box's front. He smirked, realizing it was the same crate that he had swiped his bounty from earlier. The blond shifted his stance to keep the books from falling out of his belt and watched with renewed interest as they continued to count the number of issues.

You're about six books short, kid. He waited to see their reactions.

The dark-haired boy crossed his arms, his eyes never leaving David's. He cleared his throat, drawing in the older blond's attention, and jerked his chin upwards.

"Hey. You can't be in here. This is private property."

David pulled the stick from his mouth and blew a line of smoke into the air. "Yeah, thanks. I already got the memo."

"Then get the hell out of here before we call the cops."

"Ooo. Threatened by a five-year-old. I'm shaking."

The blond kid suddenly whirled around and jabbed a rolled-up comic into David's chest. "Don't test us, asshole! We will call boardwalk security if you don't get the fuck out of here!"

David grinned wickedly before snatching the book out of the kid's hand with a speed only he could deliver. He thwacked the boy on the head with it for good measures before glancing over at its cover.

"So tell me," he began, ignoring the protests from the younger blond. He leaned against the counter and smacked the boy's reaching hands away. "What's a couple of smart-asses like you two doing in a fine establishment such as this?"

"I already told you. We own this place."

"Bullshit."

"It's true," the brunet snapped, reaching beneath the counter and pulling out a piece of paper. He slid it across the table and flipped it around for David to see.

"Frog Comics?" the man read aloud. David raised an eyebrow. "What kind of shit name is that?"

The brunet snatched the sheet out of his view and stuffed it back under the counter. "It's our last name, dick."

David snickered as he looked back at the booklet in his hand. "Your last name is 'Frog'? I can only imagine your first one, then. Do I dare ask for it?"

"No. 'Cause that would be creepy. Now, would you fuck off? We got work to do."

David whistled, flashing his canines. "You kiss your mother with that mouth, Blondie?"

"Eat me, shithead."

Don't tempt me.

"Everything alright over here?" The older blond smirked as Dwayne saddled up next to him to lean his forearms onto the counter. "Thought I heard someone mention an appetizing invitation."

The boys groaned. "Great. There's two of them."

"Hey Dwayne," David grinned, turning to the brunet. "I don't know about you, but I'm feeling a bit peckish right now. What do you say we grab something to eat?"

"Yeah, man. What you thinkin'?"

"Oh, I don't know..." The blonde turned to face the boys and leaned a cheek into his palm. "Something small...fresh...and light on calories..."

Dwayne smirked, letting his eyes flash yellow. "Sounds good to me."

But before they could go any further, a sharp ringing pierced through their eardrums, and David cried out as his head was suddenly racked with an onslaught of pain. The boys behind the counter were caught off guard and the younger brunet, who had been standing closest to David, actually fell to the ground, stumbling over his own feet.

On instinct, Dwayne released his vampire face, still new to its limits and the effects of their alpha's call. David moved to shift their positions, but the blond boy had already looked away, choosing to help his fallen comrade instead.

Dwayne groaned as another round of pain clawed its way through his skull. "David...what the fuck—?"

"It's Max," the blond hissed back, interrupting him. "He's calling us."

"That's one fucking phone call, man. Dude ever heard of a pager?" David winced as he felt the same sensation only ten times worse. It was always the oldest "child" that got punished the hardest. And when it came to Max, tardiness was never accepted. David grasped the counter to prevent himself from doubling over and cringed as he felt the wood beneath his fingertips crack.

"What hell man!?" the young brunet cried out as he rose from the ground along with his partner. David swiftly turned Dwayne around to conceal his transformation from their eyes, but the boys were undeterred. "The hell's your damage!?"

"Dwayne," David whispered sharply, "You need to fix your face. Now." The older brunet bowed his head and a second later, his features were back to normal though his eyes remained a bright, supernatural yellow. There was no time to fix them. It would have to do.

David forked over his sunglasses and Dwayne slapped them onto his face without question.

"Let's go," and the two men bolted from the shop. One second they were there, and the next—

—they were gone.


...


Edgar gaped as the wannabe-bikers practically disappeared from their store and a gust of wind roughly whipped the bangs away from his face. The pile of comics tumbled out of their respected stacks, scattering down behind the counter and in between the brothers like spilled confetti. "Son of a bitch" Edgar mumbled while taking in the mess. He turned to his brother, who looked just as stunned as he was. "What the hell was that all about?"

Alan shook his head. "I don't know. Drugs, maybe? They were fucking weird."

Edgar looked ready to add his own speculations but suddenly paused as he caught sight of the counter. Where the blond man had been previously standing, their new countertop was ruined. Large cracks and splintered wood stretched out across the fresh coat of paint like lightning trails, starting from one end of the veneer to the other. Edgar hesitantly ran his fingertips over the surface.

"Definitely drugs."

Beneath his hands were large dents that had been pressed one inch deep into the solid wooden surface. Indentations that looked an awful lot like fingerprints.

Ones coupled with claws.


...


Max's clipped voice spat from across the room, undeterred by the number of customers perusing his store. "I thought I told you not to come in here anymore."

All eyes instantly turned to the two men at the front counter and David froze as the words traversed through his bones and down to his core. He clenched his teeth, wondering if it was worth trying to challenge the hidden display of power. He could not; Max always had the upper hand when it came to brute mental strength. Next to him, Dwayne instantly crumbled under the onslaught of influence and immediately began heading for the exit as was expected. David ignored him and instead slapped on a condescending smirk as he turned to face the crowd. Appearances still needed to be made and as always, the show must go on.

The blond raised his hands in mock surrender and winked at the girl behind the cash register before looking every bit like the delinquent troublemaker he'd been reborn-ed to play. The barest nods from Max signaled that he was free to go—the check-in complete—and Dave walked off giving an impromptu one-finger salute in his wake. He'd probably hear about that one later, but right now, he didn't care. He'd still have the last word, even if it was unspoken.

As he exited the store, the blond felt his shoulders sag as Max's control drifted away to a faint, distant buzz. He found Dwayne doubled over, clutching at his stomach and looking as though he'd lost half his lunch.

The man groaned as David pulled out a flask and slid down the wall next to him. Neither one of them looked at each other, content with playing off the event as if it hadn't crushed their pride and beaten their resolve to dust. A truly wonderful thing about being undead was that every vampire had an alpha. A sire that had breathed immortality into them and thereby owned a piece of their souls.

Pawns for a king to command.

Turned vampires may be stronger, immortal, more powerful than they had ever been in previous lives, but never would they be free. Instead, they were forever bound to serve their master. Their alpha.

After taking a long swig, David offered some blood to the brunette. Dwayne hesitantly took the flask, downing the remaining amount.

"Hey, David?" He asked, after passing it back. "This whole vampire thing, I gotta ask...does it get any better?"

David glanced at him from the corner of his eye before looking away and sighing. Without answering, he reached into the waistband of his pants and pulled out the clump of comic books he had swiped earlier, raking his eyes down their ridiculous covers.

"David?"

The blond stood back up and clapped the fledgling on the shoulder as he made his way over to the other side of the boardwalk. "No, Dwayne. It doesn't get any better." He walked over to a garbage bin and glanced one more time at the crude illustrations before flicking his wrist and tossing every book he had grabbed into the can.

"But it certainly can't get any worse."


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Little do they know lol...

Comments and reviews always welcomed! And thanks again to the wonderful beta readers (IncognitoMe, silverhexes, YupThatsMeToo) who helped out with this chapter!

Till next time,

-P.R.