"Can you just," Michael sighed, slapping away David's preening hands, "sit still for a damn minute? I said I was fine. Also, may I remind you, this was your idea? What the hell are you all anxious for?"

"Can't remember the last time I left Santa Carla." David murmured, licking his index finger and thumb once to tame a stray piece of Michael's hair, one which hid the scar tissue that was formerly David's bite. He played it off as mere annoyance at the newborn's unkempt state, but in reality he felt a swell of adoration at seeing his mark.

"Yeah? Well," Michael began slowly, hoping his calm demeanor would elicit a truthful answer, "I can't remember what happened last night, so."

He jogged forward to keep up with David's newly upbeat pace, eyes darting around to take in the scenery. He couldn't say he had ever traveled inland to where it was wooded, not by choice anyway. It made him nervous, now more than ever, that a crunching branch could produce another demon quite like the one he was currently shackled to.

"You passed out again." David half-shrugged, looking at Michael as if he was asking the most incredulous question in the world. "You can't expect to exert that much energy without my blood."

Michael didn't feel all to content with David's answer. He remembered enough to recall his own miscalculation of words, one which had left the duo heated in more ways than one.

"Your blood, huh?" It hadn't occurred to Michael that David would ever be quite this accommodating, if that's what you would call it. It was hard to deny that he had, at one point, fit the term of what David believed to be a brother. Connection or not, Michael had taken more than he had given, and destroyed more than he had made. Yes, there had since been moments shortly after David's re-awakening, where Michael believed David would unearth that surefire revenge. Though nothing quite as brutal as he had imagined as of yet. In fact, besides a few unwanted and unwarranted touches, David could be considered well behaved.

He had unearthed his plan to leave Santa Carla as soon as Michael had woken. Though his eyes told Michael that there was no room for negotiation, the tension the two still held couldn't help but bubble up, make room for disagreement.

Why are you doing this, David? A weakened Michael pleaded, voice roused with sleep.What do you want from me? Where are we even going to go?

Can't I go see my family, just one last time? I just want one more moment with Sammy.

-He's my brother, David. You said it yourself, that means-

"I know what that means," David sighed, teeth grinding in frustration.
"But Sam took that from me, took you from me. After I fought to get it back. After Max."

"But I shouldn't mean this much to you," Michael reasoned,"so why can't you let me go?"

David curled and uncurled his fist. It was truly miraculous his patience had lasted so long. He knew the second he saw Michael that he was pure spitfire, but he had hoped with the incentive he had produced he could be swayed. After all, he was sure his ties to the boy ran deeper than blood, and that the influence between them had formed by at least some mutual interest.

"Well, Michael. Why couldn't you?"

Michael Emerson wasn't really what David considered an ideal mate. It was weird sometimes to think that vampires sought out an eternity with one specific partner, considering the failure rate of marriages in the human world.

After David first turned, he didn't have much incentive for this particular goal. His sire was at a point in his life where his desires for such a thing were translucent however, which meant those under him were to keep their focus on Max's fixity of happiness, bringing his dream rather than their own to the realms of reality. Sure, a family alongside Max seemed like a fine idea, but there wasn't much room for opposition when you were an underling. David would like to say he had some power, and it was true he did over the Lost Boys, but the hierarchy never ended with him.

Though a good portion remained mere circumstance, Dwayne's position was produced by David's need for authority, as well as consistency. He constantly found himself unhappy blindly following Max, who managed to remain cheerful despite his never ending failures in the endeavor that was love. It left David without a mother, and half of the time without a father as well. Not that he truly considered Max to be the fatherly type. He couldn't even picture what a father would be composed of, thinking back on his blur of the life before. Yet he could gather that Max was probably the closest, if not best alternative to the ache that seemed to remain in his dead heart.

David wasn't frightened when Max returned one night after an escapade in Seattle, and discovered a boy, who appeared to be no older than David. His newly torn shirt was damp with darkened blood, skin slick, and dark eyes dull, void. Though obviously startled under the circumstances, Dwayne's body was turned inward toward David, undoubtedly submissive. He didn't move much, and occasionally looked around the room with feigned interest, but never at the emerged Max. Dwayne seemed accepting of his compromised state, for he didn't cry, but his hand shook unbearably, and his focus seemed slight.

"You turned a mere snack?" Max finally said, disappointment eminent, but not overwhelming. He seemed genuinely curious about David's actions rather than vexed.

"He's not just a snack," David chastised, eyebrows knitting in expressive annoyance, "he's mine."

Max laughed openly and unabashedly. He wasn't careful when he grasped Dwayne's face to better exam him, and his eyes spoke wonders that his feelings stated the boy beneath him was sub-human.

"He looks quite frail. You realize you need to leave something in him if he is to be reanimated."

"I got carried away," Was all David could say, and his tone was apathetic to say the least, "but I want to keep him."

"Well, as what, exactly?"

And suddenly, David wasn't so sure.

When he had spotted the boy, he had presumed him road kill. The incident was quick, and David had to be even quicker to act. A couple of teens, wired on god knows what, had deemed Dwayne and a boy, who couldn't possibly be older than nine, an easy target for a mugging. David wasn't sure what made Dwayne look illegitimate in terms of strength, as his size alone promised capability. Though, the boy was tackled first, and being propitious bait, had Dwayne down and out in seconds. His plea bargain was fair enough, a broken record along the lines of "I'll give you anything," and "you don't want to do this, not to him!"

Which did work, to a certain extent. The leader faltered slightly, and the grip he had on the baseball bat he had conjured up loosened. This Dwayne saw, and after a quick motion to his younger companion, the two tried to overtake them. The boy, with a quick bite to the hand that enclosed him, managed to break free and slide behind Dwayne.

After Dwayne wrestled the bat from his opposition, the element of surprise on his side, a couple of wild swings sent two of the muggers running. Though one still stayed behind, the most disgruntled of the trio, and although reluctant managed to squeeze the trigger of his concealed gun.

The boy was put down first, and Dwayne's scream did little to ease the situation. Instead a second fire rang out, and this time the smell of blood was so strong David's fangs emerged instantaneously. By the time he arrived physically on scene, it was obvious the younger dead, and Dwayne on his way out.

David held Dwayne carefully, inwardly fighting to decide what to do next. It felt wrong to dig into him, but there was just so much blood, and it could end his suffering—

"What are you?" Dwayne strained to get out, fingers twisting every which way to hold onto David.

He had momentarily forgotten the appearance of his unearthly identifier, and managed with discomfort to retract his fangs.

"Your eyes, they're—"Dwayne struggled, but David understood enough to dismiss him.

Dwayne was able to relax ever so slightly in David's hold, but the inevitable was finally recognized.

"…Is he?"

David could only nod, which for a moment, seemed to kill Dwayne before the blood loss could.

"—It's all my fault, and now I'm going to die, all because I thought I could—"
David had heard enough, the need to rip into Dwayne going beyond animalistic urges. Though Dwayne cried out, and David undoubtedly caused more suffering, he couldn't stop the sudden need to change Dwayne. Somewhere, in untapped, unattainable memories, Dwayne's experience felt all too familiar, and David needed to remedy the loss that was being mirrored within him.

He drank till he was full, which was cutting it very thin considering, but was able to pull off in time to set to work. A couple of well-placed bites didn't provide immediate results, but David was sure as he hoisted Dwayne up that the kid would be alright come dawn.

Maybe Dwayne could be his mate. Maybe his new brother, who would be able to give David that happiness supposedly only a family could bring, or so Max said. For all David cared, Dwayne was going to be the start of something, and Max—no—nothing in the world was going to take this new beginning away.

"Of course you're going to drink my blood. What the hell else are you going to live off of? I'm not betting my money on some unsuspecting couples having a sex rendezvous in an old abandoned cabin."

"Well, I don't know," Michael grumbled, annoyed that they were discussing his future eating habits at all, "A deer or something?"

"I'm guessing you haven't experienced what animal blood tastes like as a vampire."

Michael stopped short, remembering the first time the craving got too bad, and the first blood of a rat.
He hunched over, chest beginning to heave.

"Jesus, Michael. You're not going to throw up, not again. We've barely got enough blood in you as it is."

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He waved him off, signaling that he was good to keep walking. They had traveled dozens upon dozens of miles as it was, and he wasn't willing to prolong his time spent with a folklore monster in the woods. "Just go ahead of me! I'll catch up."

At this, David stilled completely, his gaze catching Michael's.

"Oh, fuck off," Michael motioned again, wishing for once that he had an ounce of David's trust.

"I'm not going to run off, alright? Where the hell would I go, anyway? We've gone too far from Santa Carla at this point, I couldn't find my way back, even if I wanted to."

David remained impassive, uncertain.

Michael sighed, "Believe it or not, is wasn't a walk in the park convincing Sam and his moron friends that I wasn't just some ruthless killer. I doubt I'd have the same luck come round 2."

"Well I would chase you, you know. If you ran."

Michael believed that, for sure.

"Yeah, I get it, David. Look, I'm not thinking about that anymore. I sort of, you know—"

He looked at David hopefully, as if his mind would supply the rest of Michael's unfinished thought, but David just waited patiently for its conclusion.

"I need you." His mouth finally resolved, and he regretted it the moment he said it. For something flickered in David's eyes, maybe not noticeable to those who didn't know him. Something was changing, and David's eyes held the promise.