Well ain't this a fancy setup. The upload getup has changed since I've last been on here. It's been like, 38-ish days since I've updated (since, looking up, I see the last chapter has a life of 52 days on the site). Where the hell did the time go? Probably into my homework. Blah.

Speaking of which. I juggled a huge ass paper and this chapter in a desperate attempt to get both done tonight. And in the end, the chapter got done, and my paper remains unfinished. Eh.

Seriously though. A few days I was like, "I think it's been a few weeks since I've updated. I should probably wrap up that next chapter." Nope. It's been a lot longer than just a few weeks. Thankfully though, I already had a good start on the chapter, so all I had to do was scrap a scene (a HUGE scene - like, I lost a thousand fucking words -_-) and fudge together an ending. And this is what I ended up with.

I'm so exhausted right now. I better get some love for this.

Just kidding. No forced reviews. But if you do review, you get a cookie of your choice...~~ squiggle squiggle. Tentadoras, am I right. XD

With the sun high in the sky and shining as brightly as it can in the middle of January, Dwayne was out like a rock. Michael was pretty sure no amount of poking or pushing or shouting would wake him up. At least, that's how it was for Michael. Once he closed his eyes every morning, he was out cold—completely dead to the world until nightfall., which made it even stranger that (for some reason) he had woken up in the middle of the day.

A part of him was tempted to try forcibly waking Dwayne up, but at the same time, he remembered how blind he had been when first waking up a little bit ago and the giant headache that had formed deep in his skull. The clock in the kitchen downstairs read 1:25 when he had gone to duct tape his sunglasses. Yes, Michael's dilemma could wait for another five or six hours.

He mindfully covered Dwayne up again and began collecting his clothes—his shoes and jacket, at least. His first decision was to leave his underwear where it was; his second was to toss it into his closet back in his old room, which he swiftly executed. Sighing, he backtracked to his mother's room and quietly closed the door. It was almost an instinct for him to do so; he didn't want Dwayne to be left out in the open, even though technically anyone could come in and open this door and he'd be vulnerable all over again. It was just…well, seeing him in an easily accessible place was a little nerve-wracking for Michael. It was probably some stupid coven-mates-instinctually-want-to-protect-each-other thing (ugh).

Michael found himself wandering throughout the house while his mind buzzed with dozens of chaotic thoughts and questions. He tried not to dwell on this whole…situation, but it gnawed away at him until he thought he might truly panic. It wasn't that he was…repulsed by the idea that he probably had sex with a man. Michael wasn't homophobic, unlike his ultra-masculine father, who had made it a point to harass any male who dressed or behaved in a remotely feminine way. No, it wasn't that Michael thought such a thing was wrong…but…what? What bothered him so much about this? Was it that he knew Dwayne and had to live with him and was worried this would change things? Maybe? God, the fact that he wasn't necessarily grossed out didn't mean he was gay, right? Yeah, he was fine with other people being into the same sex, but that didn't mean he was chill living that lifestyle himself… No, he liked girls. Right? Right.

His head spun, and for some reason, he found himself in the kitchen, hovering over the phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a business card lying on the counter. After picking it up and inspecting it, he realized it was Max's business card; Michael had received it after getting a job at Max's store. And before he even thought about it, he was dialing the number on the card. It was as if a part of him instinctually wanted to reach out to Max for help, even though Michael honestly had no clue how there was anything that could be done to help him right now, aside from finding out why he'd blacked out last night, and why no one had bothered to tell him that the sun doesn't affect vampires for some reason.

The phone didn't ring for very long before a feminine voice answered. He was caught off guard, and she'd spoken so quickly that he missed everything she said. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that a woman named Maria worked at Max's store too.

Dumbass.

"Uh…Maria?"

She paused. "Yes?"

"It's Michael."

"Michael!" She remembered him in a heartbeat. He was almost sure she wouldn't; he had applied and been hired on the same day, spoken to her for only a minute, and then left. (Did he even show up to his first day? Or was that the day he spent holed up underground as his body changed from mortal to immortal?) The fact that her memory didn't have to be refreshed, despite all the people she probably saw in any given day, brought a small smile to his face. "What's up?"

"Is…Max there?"

"No, he just left. Other business to manage and such. And I think he was going to the bank, too." A small part of him was relieved that Max wasn't there. What was Michael doing, anyways, trying to call the man who seems to be the cause of all his troubles? "Want me to leave him a message?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, I'm good… Hey, do you have his house number?" Probably not, but he suddenly had the strong urge to contact Sam and make sure nothing freaky or bad had happened last night. With all these vampires in his life, Michael felt as if it was only a matter of time before his brother ended up someone's snack—or turned. And he was growing increasingly suspicious that something had gone down and he just didn't remember it. Why else would he be here, of all places? (And he refused to think that the reason he had come here was because he wanted a more private place to shack up with Dwayne.)

"I sure do," she chirped. He could hear the shuffling of papers. "Ready for it?"

"Hold on." He quickly rummaged around all the nearby drawers he could reach without putting the phone down. It took him only a moment to find a pen, click it, and poise it against the back of Max's business card. "'Kay, go ahead."

She rattled off the number and he copied it onto the card. He thanked her quickly but wholeheartedly, and she made a comment about seeing him soon before hanging up. Michael sighed and swiftly dialed the new number, praying that it would be Sam who answers.

"I did it, I'm sorry and I should be punished."

"We know it, we accept it, and you will be."

Sam laughed out loud—a laugh that was accompanied by a big, open-mouthed smile—before stuffing another forkful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth. He'd missed out on so much television in his life, so he'd been watching shows all day. Or, ever since he'd woken up, six hours ago; it was only three o' clock.

The TV guide that had been so readily available beside the television when he first started channel flipping told him that he was watching The Cosby Show. He'd only watched two episodes, and it had taken him a little bit to figure out which character was which and what their relationships were with each other, but once he got that all straightened out, he was able to sit back and enjoy. And even though he didn't have much to compare it to, he swore it had to be one of the greatest shows he'd ever seen. Key words being one of them, because a half an hour later, he found MTV.

Suddenly, his whole entire world flipped right-side-up.

Okay, exaggeration. But it was a ground-breaking discovery on his part.

The first music video he watched was "Welcome to the Jungle" by a band called Guns N' Roses, and it was…wild. There really was no other word to describe the video. It was a mash of guitars and out-of-control hair and a really energetic lead singer. Sam liked the song, but he took the time to let the music itself sink in before he got into it. Before he knew it, it was over, so he took the opportunity to set his bowl of macaroni and cheese aside—although, in the process of that, he missed the title of the next song.

The opening scene was at night—with a big moon lighting up the sky, and tall buildings and open water in the background. A girl weaseled her way into the video, looked up at the sky mysteriously, and the funky-as-shit music started. A few seconds later, Sam blinked in confusion.

Was that a lion?

She was saying he made her feel…he made her feel…shiny and new. Okay, cool.

"Like a virgin—touched for the very first time!"

His mouth dropped open; he was completely unprepared for that line. And then he slowly grinned, because…did she seriously just say that? At least he was alone. It'd be pretty embarrassing if a slumbering vampire jumped out of the floorboards and demanded to know what the hell he was watching (and honestly, Sam wouldn't even have an answer).

And just when he was about to laugh at the awkwardness something like that would bring, the phone rang—a blaring ring that made his head snap in the direction of the phone and freeze. The phone was right next to him (though there must be several phones in the house, because he could hear a lot of echoing going on), resting on the table at the left end of the couch. Sam hesitated. What kind of people would be calling a household of vampires in the middle of the day? Eh, maybe one of Max's business buddies. Hopefully not a telemarketer. He reached for the remote, muted the TV, and lifted the receiver. The ringing stopped and he cradled the curved phone against his face, tentatively asking, "Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Mike?" His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "How are you calling me right now?"

"Sam, I'm at Grandpa's."

"Wait, what?" His voice rose and he leaned forward. "Why are you there? I thought you came back this morning or something."

"That's why I'm calling." He heard Michael exhale sharply. "What did we do last night?"

"You mean after we ate? That really gross raw steak you had made you sick or something. You looked like you were gonna puke so Dwayne took you outside. And then Star and David left, and Paul drove me home." He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized he just called Max's house his home. Bad word choice. He pressed on though, hoping Michael missed it. "I thought maybe you…needed something…and Dwayne was gonna help you out… I don't know why you're at Grandpa's. Hey, how are you awake, anyways? It's not even four yet." There was silence on the other end. "Mike? Is something wrong?"

"No. I mean…maybe. I don't know." He sighed again. "I need to go. I'll see you soon."

"Okay… See you when the other nocturnals come out."

"No, I'm…coming over now."

Sam paused. "Right now?"

"Yeah."

"Whoa, slow down. I don't think that's a good idea—"

"I'll take my bike; it won't take me long."

"Yeah, that sounds good, but you know…won't you combust once you go outside?" And wasn't Dwayne there with him? Or did Dwayne make it back last night and only Michael didn't?

"I'll be fine. I just…need to get out of here." He paused for a beat. "I'm on my way."

"Mike, don't—" The call ended. Sam sighed in exasperation and slammed the phone back onto its cradle. He had to trust his brother—that for some reason the sun wouldn't hurt him, maybe for a similar reason he was awake so early, but…goddammit, what if Michael was really, really out of it after whatever happened last night and he bursts into flames as soon as he steps outside?

Sam sighed for the second time and turned the television off. Well, since it was almost four, he should probably change his clothes or brush his teeth or something…

His butt had been glued to the couch for so long that it was difficult to leave, but after some inner struggling, he was on his feet and about to head out of the room when—

"Oh my god!" he shouted, annoyed that—yet again—he'd jumped at the random apparition of someone. "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"Keep your fucking voice down," Marko hissed. He stood in the entrance to the living room, arms crossed over his chest and sprouting the same sunglasses as always. Shades covering such an important section of his face always make it difficult to determine his expression, which Sam could find kind of funny in any other situation. Because, you know, it's hard to portray anger through your mouth, and if it wasn't for Marko's sharp words, he wouldn't even look angry at all. But Sam couldn't find humor in that right now, because he was angry too. Angry that he kept being snuck up on, whether it was intentional or not. And angry that…someone was angry at him? "You're so loud. It's hard to sleep."

Sam scoffed. "I thought you never sleep."

"I don't. But you're disturbing the others. So shut up."

"Who do you even mean by that?" Sam couldn't help it; his voice didn't lower in volume because he couldn't stomp out his irritation just yet. "Max and Star and David are practically never here during the day. Mike isn't here. I don't think Dwayne's here either. So if you're just talking about Paul—"

"I'm not talking about him! I'm talking about the fact that Dwayne can never fall asleep until noon because you make so much noise, and I've had the worst fucking headache for forever and you're so loud—"

"I used to get migraines all the time, pal. I think you'll be fine." His train of thought instantly switched from the initial argument though, because a fraction of a second later, he was asking, "But hold on, what kind of headache? Like, a too-much-strain-on-your-ability kind of headache?"

If only Marko's expression was decipherable behind those sunglasses. "What?"

"Do you get them a lot? By 'for forever' do you mean you literally have it all the time?"

"Sam, I don't—"

"'Cause that's what I used to get—all the time. And I don't know if it's because my head was never relaxed or if my head was never relaxed because I had a constant headache—"

"What—?"

"And I always wondered about all this kind of stuff and it really sucked you know and I know you don't like me that much, but if you think about it we probably have a lot in common—"

"Stop!" And just like that, Sam did. He snapped his mouth shut and instantly regretted going off on this tangent at all. As much as he annoyed Marko, and as much as Marko was starting to annoy him, he didn't want to grate on the vampire. After spending so long thinking he was the only one in the world with all his "issues," he just couldn't help himself. He was starved for information or reassurance or…anything that would allow him to speak about his ability to anyone who might remotely understand. And clearly, Marko didn't share the same desire to talk. "Sam." The blonde vampire spoke slowly and deliberately. "We are nothing alike." Sam could feel himself deflating into nothing, like a popped balloon. "Keep the noise down." After that last demand, the person who Sam felt was the only one in the world he shared so much in common with, turned around and left.