I wanted to take the time to thank everyone for all the kind reviews! I try to respond to every review I get that isn't anonymous, so if I didn't personally thank anyone, then I'm sorry that I somehow missed you!

This chapter took a while to write, and it extended for about another 800 words, but I ended up cutting the last scene out and putting it toward the next chapter. So hopefully the next update will be faster. ;)

Again, thank you all for your reviews! They really keep me motivated.

When Sam awoke around noon, Michael was up and about, which was just…wrong. It freaked him the hell out at first.

His brother was sitting at the small, round table that was positioned in the corner of the kitchen, wearing dark sunglasses and drinking coffee and reading the newspaper like he was ten years older than he actually was. To his right was a sliding glass door that opened up to the back porch, which had a nice view of the forest that began where Max's lawn ended. Sunlight was hitting Michael's hair, making parts of it shine like rustic gold.

And then there was Marko, standing over the stove and cooking something that smelled incredible. Breakfast for lunch, Sam was sure.

The scene was so calm and surreal that the blond stood in the archway for a minute, blinking and rubbing his eyes and trying to decide if he was still sleeping or having another vision or what, because…what in the world was this?

"Hey, Sam." Michael threw him a smile and took a sip of his coffee.

"Hey…" Sam slowly entered the kitchen and sat adjacent to his brother. "When'd you get home?"

"Last night. They said you already went to bed by that time." Michael smiled to himself—the biggest smile Sam had seen on him in what felt like forever. "You won't believe what happened yesterday."

"What? Where were you?" Sam's eyebrows creased ever so slightly. Michael's smile slowly disappeared and he cast a quick glance at Marko. Sam followed his gaze briefly before his eyes met with Michael's again. "What?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you later."

"So for now are we just ignoring the fact that you're not shooting up in flames?"

"It's just a side effect. Don't worry about it."

"A side effect from what? Where were you yesterday?"

"Sam, just don't worry about it."

"Well I'm worrying, Mike!" He'd been so worried last night. The least Michael could do was tell where he'd gone for hours on end, after telling his brother that he'd be home in a few minutes' time.

"Oh my fucking God," Marko ground out. He turned around, spatula in hand. "He fed last night," he said, pointing the thing at Michael. "He's undergoing side effects from the blood I gave him after he died." There. He redirected his words to Michael, then. "And I told you to stay away from the fucking window. I have no idea when it'll wear off." He went back to angrily flipping pancakes. "You know what's worse than dying from sun exposure? Not having a body to be burned at your funeral. Just saying."

Michael grimaced. "I could have told him all of that myself."

Marko shot him a look that made Sam want to run over and high five him. The look was a cross between you probably wouldn't have and stop keeping shit from your brother. Sam didn't think it was fair to unload on Michael for everything the others were keeping a secret, but to be honest, he was pretty tired of being left out of things. Apparently Marko was tired of witnessing it.

"What are you cooking?" Sam asked curiously after a moment of thick silence.

"What does it smell like?"

It smells like you have a headache again.

Actually, it smelled like sausage, bacon and pancakes.

"So vampires like regular food?"

Michael shrugged. "I still do."

"And I need a balance between blood and 'regular food.'"

"Oh. Interesting." It didn't seem like the others needed a "balance," for some reason. Maybe it had to do with the different "lines" or whatever that Max had mentioned before—the families of vampires that varied in abilities and whatnot. "Is there enough for three?" he asked hopefully.

Several minutes later, he was stuffing his face with brunch. It was easily the best breakfast food he'd ever tasted. Marko didn't stick around to eat with him, seeing as he'd munched on the food as it had cooked. He disappeared as soon as Sam and Michael sat down with their plates.

Unfortunately, as soon as Michael was done with his food, he was leaving as well.

"I told Max about the sun tolerance thing. He wants me to help out at the video store until the side effect goes away."

"'Kay. See you later." Take me with you…

The house fell silent. Eerily silent. The home wasn't scary to him by any means, because he knew the vampires who were actually asleep couldn't wake up during the day. They were out cold—dead to the world. Where were they? Beneath his feet? He looked down at the floorboards. That thought felt weird, but not intimidating. They were just…sleeping. Like humans did every night.

Max's boys weren't completely inhuman, nor were they invincible. Sam could find their secret hiding spaces and do something very horrible to them all, if he wanted to. He wouldn't, of course. Never. But…he could. The boys probably realized this, too. Was that why Sam had yet to find out where exactly they slept during the day? Were they all afraid he might do something regrettable to them?

It was tempting to explore the house and find out where they were—maybe check out the basement and poke around in there for a little while. Except…no. He shouldn't. Not only was it none of his business (they were extremely vulnerable during the day, weren't they?), but it would look incredibly suspicious if anyone found out. And Marko was still around here, somewhere, so someone would find out.

It was January 26th, the calendar said. Someone was keeping track and crossing off each day as it passed by. It must be easy to let the days—months—slip by when you're a vampire. Sam had already lost track of the days since arriving here.

He suddenly had a thought. A random thought, but a good one. He felt the need to mark one upcoming day in particular. It was very far off, but it might roll around the corner before he even realized the summer had come and gone…

With a black pen he found in a drawer in the kitchen, he marked September 15th with a little star. He didn't know what to expect on that day—if he should expect anything at all—but it was good to be prepared, right?

His visions rarely came 100-percent true, but he had little experience with weird, symbolic dreams. Better to play it safe than sorry.

For the next thirty minutes, he sat at the small kitchen table where he'd eaten breakfast with Michael. His leg shook up and down and he continuously messed with his hair, his thoughts riddled with the "vision" he'd had last night. Despite all the analysis and rationalization he attempted, one question in particular kept resurfacing.

What does it mean?

He couldn't not think about it. Even opening the fridge to stare at food didn't help distract him. Honestly, he'd been planning on keeping that vision to himself for an indefinite amount of time (probably for quite a while), but he was quickly realizing that he couldn't. It needed to come off his chest, even if whoever he told just looked at him like he was crazy.

There was only one other person awake in this house…unless he'd slipped out while Sam had been distracted by his own thoughts.

"Marko?" he called out at a volume suitable for a normal conversation. "I hope you can hear me, because otherwise I'm just talking to myself, and even I'm not ready for that level of craziness yet." He smiled despite himself. "I know you've probably got better things to do, but…" Talking like this to seemingly no one felt uncomfortable, to say the least. He fidgeted in his seat. "But you're gifted too. If 'gifted' is the best way to describe it. Personally I'd rather just call myself 'psychic' than 'gifted.' Anyways… You're probably the only person in this world I know of who can help me with this stupid stuff. Like, honestly help, and not just look at me like I need more sleep or say that my visions are one of the 'mysteries of the world' or anything useless like that." A moment of ear-buzzing silence passed. "So…yeah." Fuck. It was worth a shot. He buried his face in his hands, slightly embarrassed and feeling alone in this giant house.

"I'm not the only person in the world who can help you."

Sam's head shot up. Much to his own delight, he didn't jump—he just smiled. Marko was in the archway, and a few seconds after Sam noticed him, he approached the table and sat down directly across from Sam.

"You may as well be."

Marko frowned. His eyes weren't black anymore. They were a startling green, like the purest grass in existence, and as electric as a bolt of lightning.

They looked cool as shit, if Sam was being honest—but they also didn't look natural. He realized that Marko didn't wear his sunglasses in public to look rad. He wore them because his eyes…they were definitely not normal. The color could be normal—albeit rare—but the closer Sam looked, the more Marko appeared to be something out of science fiction, or a painting, or someone's imagination.

What was that painting called? By that one painter. Not the crazy one who cut off his own ear—the gay one. Sam didn't even know the painter's name—just that his father was a teacher and he would sometimes refer to that Renaissance guy as "the gay one" in his time. The guy's name escaped Sam's mind, and the painting was on the tip of his tongue (it wasn't the Mona Lisa; that name came to him easily), but he knew what it looked like in his head. His mind compared it side-by-side with Marko. Aside from a difference in hair color and length, the similarities were astounding.

"You're not the only psychic in the world." Marko's comment pulled Sam out of his distracted thoughts.

His curiosity spiked even further. "You know some?"

"Some vampires, yes. Very old ones. And your grandmother."

His stomach flipped. "Wait… What?"

Marko's somber expression never left. "I know you've never met her. She died well before you were born. Max knew her, though. So did David, Star and Dwayne. And my family, as well. Actually, she was very well-known in the years preceding her death."

Sam blinked. "Did…did my family know?"

"Her husband did. Her daughter was too young to understand but old enough that she didn't believe. As far as your extended family is concerned, I have no idea."

His mouth fell open. "And nobody thought to tell me this?!" Apparently his mother hadn't exactly known, so she and Michael weren't at fault here, but…but his grandfather knew, and Max knew, and David and the others, and no one had bothered to tell him that not only was Sam's problem genetic, but that his grandmother had also been an item of interest for them, just like Sam was now. Had she lived with them for a time, too? How did she die? Was it something vampire-related?

"Was it important for you to know?"

"Yes!" Sam shouted, his volume leagues above Marko's.

"Why?"

He faltered. Why was it important information? Because it was indirectly tied to him?

No, he decided after a moment's thought.

Because if I had known, at least I wouldn't have gone fifteen years thinking I was a freak of nature.

"I know where she's buried, if you want to visit her."

"No I don't want to—" Jesus Christ. "Humans don't enjoy visiting graves, all right? In case you've forgotten that over the years or something."

Marko's lips thinned. "No, I haven't forgotten. Visiting graves isn't something many vampires enjoy, either."

"Then why even suggest it?" Sam leaned forward and rubbed his forehead.

"I see things differently than most. I thought you might, too."

And now Sam felt like an asshole again—just like last night. "Is that your gift? You 'see things differently'?" It came out sounding sarcastic, but he'd been hoping for a serious response. None came. Sighing, he decided to move on to what he'd originally called Marko in here for. "My mom's been missing."

"I know."

"I saw her last night. In a vision…thing. She was…" He focused intently on the ring patterns on the wood table. "She didn't look good. And it wasn't a normal vision, either. It was like…like she was standing right in front of me, in the middle of the party." Just saying it out loud caused a weight to lift off his shoulders, but his relief only went so far, seeing as Marko didn't say anything. Sam looked up and hesitantly met his eyes. "I know it sounds weird…"

Marko sat up straight and glanced outside, through those big, sliding glass doors. "I received a letter from my sister last week."

"You have a sister?" Sam asked, his eyes widening because holy shit he just told me something about himself. Time to listen up.

Marko nodded. "I haven't seen her in several months but we're still in touch." Via some vampire thing? Sam ventured. Probably. "She has mostly the same amount of power that I have, with some variance. She knows things."

Their eyes met again and Sam nodded. "Okay. You old-fashioned vamps write letters? Why not just call?" He grinned.

"Because someone might overhear." Marko's sobriety wiped the smile off Sam's face. "She wrote an address in the letter. I finally went to it, several days ago."

"Okay…" Sam said again, the faintest sensation of dread washing over him.

"It's the place where your mother worked."

His heart did something strange in his chest. He swallowed thickly. "Worked?"

This wasn't Michael's first day working for Max, but a lot certainly had happened since the last time he helped run the video store. It took some effort to squeeze his way back into the groove he'd begun to set before. It didn't help that he was a slower learner, and quick to forget things unless hearing them for the nth time, but Maria had the patience of a saint. Her guidance prevented him from falling on his face during his shift. And Max had been gone for several hours to run errands or something, so it also helped that Michael didn't have his creator breathing down his neck.

"So do you like them?" Maria asked him at one point while she and Michael rearranged movies on their respective shelves. The store was empty, and evidently on the chilly side, too, if Maria's green sweater and red-tipped nose were any indication.

"Huh?" The Blob was in the comedy section. What in the world… He grabbed the movie and went into the next aisle to fix the mistake, while Maria continued to put returned movies back in their alphabetical and by-genre order.

"Max and his boys." Michael could practically hear the smile in her voice. "They're nice, aren't they?"

Oh. "Yeah, I guess." Wait. Was he supposed to sort The Blob with the Ts or Bs?

And now he could hear her frown. "Are they treating you well?"

"Yeah." Shit. Two things to fix at once. "Yeah, they're nice…just weird sometimes." To put it nicely.

She laughed. "I think I know what you mean. They're interesting."

"I take it they're nice to you?" I doubt all of them are…

"Very. Especially Paul."

He decided to take a 50/50 shot and randomly chose to throw the movie with the Ts. Maria joined him a moment later with a box of horror movies, which they began shelving together. "Yeah, Paul's pretty nice." Pretty meaning very. Michael had to admit that the (former) youngest of Max's boys certainly was the most overtly welcoming.

Maria seemed to sense Michael's tentativeness. She offered him a smile when their eyes briefly met. "It's probably hard for you all to warm up to each other. I know they've already accepted you, though. Max talks about you guys all the time. Apparently David and Star have taken a liking to you and Sam surprisingly fast."

That didn't sound right to him. Maybe David and Star had warmed up to Sam, but it was nearly impossible for Michael to tell if they liked him. "Actually, Dwayne's more inviting than they are."

Maria paused and titled her head curiously. "Dwayne? He's kind of quiet, isn't he?"

"I mean…no. Not really." Not from what Michael had seen.

"Huh." She smiled and resumed her work. "I think he spoke a sentence to me once." She laughed to herself.

"Really?" Were they even talking about the same person? "He's said a lot to me…"

"See? I told you they've already accepted you."

It didn't feel like it, but all right.

Max's return halted any further conversation about Michael's new family, thankfully. Michael didn't enjoy that topic very much. He wasn't a chatty person in general, though, so maybe that's why he would much rather work in tangent with Maria silently.

Sam should start working here. Michael had a feeling his brother and Maria would love talking to each other.

The hours ticked by. Five o' clock eventually rolled by, and the sun quickly departed after that. At quarter to six, the phone rang. Michael was standing right next to it behind the store's front register, leaning carelessly against the counter. He answered with only a fraction of Maria's confidence—but then again, she held the same level of enthusiasm as two procreating bunnies (slight exaggeration, but really…), so maybe the way he answered wasn't that terrible.

"Hey this is Max's Videos where you'll find all the movies in the world how can I help you?" Okay, so that wasn't the proper greeting, but he'd forgotten what to say specifically and that was the basic gist of what Maria always said to customers when they called.

"Heyyy." Oh God. His stomach twisted instantly after hearing that familiar, low voice. It was a nervous twist—because Jesus, Max was around here somewhere and could probably hear everything Dwayne might say to Michael over the phone—but the twist was also caused by something akin to…well, he didn't want to say.

Memories from last night flooded his brain—memories involving male and female strippers, tips, stalking, skin. Lots of skin. And blood. Could Max read minds? He sure as hell better not be able to.

After hesitating for a moment and anxiously scanning his surroundings (Max was in back, but was that far enough away to be out of earshot?), he responded, "Hey." It was impossible to keep a small smile away, even if what he and Dwayne had shared last night wouldn't stay private for long. Come to think of it, did it matter if Max could hear their conversation or read Michael's thoughts? Dwayne might tell the others anyway. Maybe he already had.

"I want to show you something."

He was caught off guard by the low and almost tender words that flowed from the other line. "Like…what?" More half-naked people?

"Come home and you'll find out."

Michael grinned. "Okay. Sure."