"David, wake up!"

"Michael?" David questioned, straining to open his eyes. He fumbled to reach out to the voice of the body next to him, but there was no body to match the voice. In fact, there was suddenly more air than mattress, and with a sweep of his hand over his surroundings he realized there wasn't even a mattress at all.

Strange. Had they moved down to the cellar?

"You've been sleeping for ages, man."

"Christ," David yawned, eyes preening open despite the uncomfortable pull of his eyelids. "What time is it? We shouldn't—" he suppressed another yawn, surprised at his exhaustion. Feeding Michael took it out of him, but he would have to make do. For this to work, they had to keep moving.

"Alright. I'm getting up…I'm getting up, Michael."

Except, he was really up, feet shifted and secured tightly to the ceiling. "What the fuck?"

"Yeah, what the fuck, boss?" Marko chimed in, amused by David's confusion. "Who in the hell is Michael?"

"Michael's my—"

Marko?

"Your...what, boss?" Marko said quietly, confusion twisting into curiosity.

"David," a new voice spoke carefully, "tell me you didn't pick someone else up last night. You know like, picked UP." The tone was laced with disapproval, and David immediately recognized it to be Paul.

"Marko?" David rasped, closing his eyes shut only to reveal the same picture when he opened them. "Paul?"

"Uh, who else?" Marko grinned, reaching forward to press his palm against David's forehead. "Man, I know we don't really get sick, but you lookfucked up. What kind of shit did you drink?"

"I'm—I'm fucking dreaming. This isn't—"

"Aren't we enough for you now?" Paul pressed on, stepping forward from wherever he was perched in the darkness.

David couldn't help but stare, trying to make sense where his mind seemed to fail him. They looked good, they looked restored—Alive. Real. Here, with him.

"—But this is a dream—"

"Okaaaaay," Marko drawled, engulfing David's field of vision once again. "We're ignoring Paul's buzzkill! I came to tell you I got the stuff you asked for, you know, the pixie dust?" He winked at the end of his declaration.

"The—shit—what?" David ground out, scrubbing a hand over his face. The name sounded vaguely familiar.

"What the hell are you—what is any of this? Oh. Yeah."

David had forgotten, since it was a street name. The kind of name that threw off cops, while enticing the user to believe it wasn't just some jacked up shit made in some abuser's kitchen. He had sent Marko on a run to get drugs. How long ago that had been, he couldn't tell.

Before David could really dwell on it, Marko was leaning in, close—too close. His intent was immediately noticed, and although the act felt familiar, expected, David couldn't help but pull away before Marko's lips reached his.

Marko frowned, a harsh contrast to his usual ear-splitting grin. "You know, you used to always kiss me back."

His words unnerved David, so much so that he dropped rather clumsily from where he was perched on the roof of the cave. After he regained his footing, he immediately turned to comfort the sullen boy.

His boy. His marko, who he had denied a basic act of his admiration. How could he—

"Jesus, Marko. Give it up." Paul interrupted, rolling his eyes. It broke David's temporary stupor, but the movement made his head spin. "How long ago was that? When you were a newborn? Get over it. Whether you like Star or not is irrelevant. David chose her, and we should respect that."

And surprisingly to David, Marko's demeanor shifted. He straightened up, frown retreating till it was a tight smile, and although he still looked defeated, the apology that resulted seemed sincere.

"Sorry, boss." Marko offered, scratching at his nose in what could only be masked shame. "I guess I'm the buzzkill. I should know better."

"Ah, no." David started, beginning to feel confused again. He looked between the two boys, but they didn't seem to share his sentiment. "I mean, you don't have to apologize."

Marko nodded curtly, still not quite meeting his eyes, and David couldn't stifle the way his hand mechanically reached out to ruffle that curly mop and ease his disappointment.

"Thanks…kid." He commended softly, grasping the bag of drugs in one hand. And, sure, it felt like dead weight, but it also felt like something, a little too real. "I'm just going to…walk around, yeah? Clear my head."

"Uh, whatever." Marko agreed, stepping aside to make a path for David.

He walked dumfounded down the windy path, all too aware of the stares the younger boys bore as he made his retreat. So, they too, had noticed something was off.

Unfortunately for David, the hotel was just as he remembered, making him all the more unsettled.
Even the typical surly faced Star was poised in the middle of the room to complete the picture.

"There you are. Was beginning to think you were going to sleep into the next night."

Dwayne.

"Oh," David shrugged, humoring the comment, "guess I must have been really fucked up."

He then feigned disinterest, making a show not to really look at Dwayne. He knew it would hurt the boy, who, though quiet and solitary, often sought and relished his attention.

No, that was wrong. He wouldn't hurt, he thought. Couldn't, for he wasn't really Dwayne, but merely a dream with a message he refused to appease. Not when the dream brought Dwayne, his beautiful creation, back and bumbling endearingly like he had on the day of his rebirth.

David cursed silently as dream Dwayne lingered beside him, fumbling with a ragged end of his shirt when the silence stretched and turned awkward. He needed a distraction, needed to wake the fuck up, but the more he pinched his arm, the more hopeless the whole situation seemed. His mind was fucking with him, even going as far as to supply blood that pooled as a result of his defiant scratching.

"So. Is that why you're all agitated? I mean, I thought you knew. They're kind of showy about it."

"What?" David bit out, angry that he couldn't manipulate his dream despite his realization.

"Oh, uh—Paul…and Marko."

David grit his teeth as he addressed the pair who had unknowingly taken up his line of sight. Marko lay at the farthest corner of the lobby, resting upon a couch better suited for the dump. Paul, who was positioned behind the furniture, was carefully running his knuckles up Marko's spine, then against the muscles of his shoulders, until he reached the base of his neck where he finished with a noogie. Marko seemed irritated by the other's playfulness, until he craned his head up to look into Paul's eyes. Whatever he saw there, seemed to comfort him, as Marko smiled toothily, and made a go at shoving the bigger boy off.

"You're gay as all hells sometimes," Marko laughed, and David had to really strain to hear it, he realized, since the words were meant for Paul alone.

It didn't seem to bother Paul really, and he was able to catch Marko's fists easily, although it was apparent Marko wasn't intending a fight. By the third punch thrown, instead of releasing Marko's hands as he did before, he twisted the younger around until he was flush against him, and, in a slow-moving gesture David was sure was going to turn out to be a kiss, Paul bit him, hard, at the base of his throat.

"Ow! You fuckin' piece of—," but Paul took off running the second his fangs released from the sun-kissed skin, and Marko was happy to chase after him.

"What?" Paul teased, always a step further it seemed, from Marker. "Just claiming what's mine, again. I told you, I get every other freckle."

"Yeah, but I said no biting, you dickhead." Marko huffed, trying his best to kick at Paul in the hopes he'd lose his footing.

"Haha. Come the fuck off it, you little shit, you know you love it."

"Bitch," Marko retaliated, "you damn well wish!"

When David didn't reply, Dwayne continued, even though it was obvious his attention was held elsewhere. "Listen, is everything alright? Paul and Marko said you're acting strange."

Huh? David paused, eyes twisting to study Dwayne briefly. When had they said that?

"No, I'm fine really, just—" But he couldn't stop looking.

"Jealous?" Dwayne smirked, and although David knew him too well to think it anything other than a joke, he found him to be a little too smug.

"Just confused." David countered. Though the situation was becoming slightly foreboding, and it didn't escape him. "But it doesn't matter. Because it's a stupid. Fucking. Dream."

"Marko will always be yours, you know. You should appreciate him more, considering all that he does for you. Kid really has it out for you." And as nice as the thought was, it enraged David. He knew Dwayne heard him when he referred to this as a dream, and he felt he was going to go crazy for it. "—but, guess there's something about Paul too."

"Of course there's something about Paul." David snarled, his resolve crumbling completely. Paul was the most sincere, and the most caring of the group. He didn't know how he didn't realize his brother's interest before. He should have been there to cheer them on.

"He is Jealous of Star, though." Dwayne motioned to her, seemingly ignoring David's unusual bit of rage. She was perched on the bed, threading her fingers through Laddie's long hair. Humming some tune, unknown to him, yet beautiful all the same, and he found the sound pleased him so much, that a whoosh of red hot air escaped him, and a smile couldn't help but grace his face. She was beautiful, and he didn't feel guilty for thinking it. He had always had a sense of pride about turning her, even if she was different, even if maybe, she wasn't a brother. She was motherly, and he liked the way she had a certain intuition about her, cooed over the boys, and lectured them over dumb shit.

"I wish she'd let go of him." Dwayne blurted out. He seemed embarrassed by his words, and turned fully to David in hopes to clarify. "I mean, I know what I did, what I took was wrong—"

No, David thought, upset that Dwayne seemed to regret his own. Had he always felt…?

"—that he was too young to know the loss—but" and David disagrees, he had been young and alone, they all had been, but they needed this.

"But Laddie is my problem now. She doesn't need to mother him. We don't…" And he paused, as if to check David was still listening, before pressing on, determinedly.

"I know what Max says, but we don't need a mother."

And although, for the majority of his undead life, he would say he agreed, the emotions Dwayne spurred from him now could only be connected to dread. It made him sick to hear it, sick that Dwayne regretted Laddie, Dwayne regretted Star, Dwayne possibly regretted—him?

"I know it seems that way," and David is careful with his words, for once in his life. "that we already have so much. We almost have everything, so what else could we possibly need?"

God, he felt bile rise in his throat at his own words, the horrible twist of Dwayne's lips downward only adding to his retching gut. When he had changed Dwayne it had been a spur of the moment thing, sure. Laddie had been the same. Though he was their problem now, he was hardly a problem at all. He just was, Laddie, and he was theirs, and there he would stay.

"If you really think that, then why do you need Michael?" And David was pulled from his thoughts immediately.

"What did you just say?"

But before he could get a proper answer, Star was kissing him. David was unsure of how she moved so stealthily, how she had appeared at just the perfect time to block him from Dwayne, but there she was, and suddenly she's all he can see, feel, and taste.

"Star," David called out, uneager to implore her. "Wait." And he tugs at her hair in hopes she'll release him, because he wants to see Dwayne, and he wants to see Paul and Marko. But pulling on her hair just makes him feel wrong, so very wrong again, as it feels too much like Michael's.

She does release him, and in the background he can feel rather than see Marko's irritation, Paul's itch, and Dwayne's dismay.

After regarding his request for a moment, she leans back in after no further instruction. Though her lips seem more different. Chapped, maybe? Tense and firm, yet somehow, still eager?

Like Michaels.

Michael, Michael—Michael, Michael, Michael. It's always about fucking Michael.

"Wheres Michael?" He demanded, holding her at arm's length. Dwayne didn't deny his existence, so—

"Who?" Oh, how he'd never thought he'd hear those words coming out of those lips.

"You sure you're okay boss?" Marko butted in.

"Yeah, I thought you slept a little too long, but maybe you didn't sleep enough." Paul joined in.

"No. No, I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming. And we are not doing this."

"This?" Paul motions about the air, confusion crinkling his brow.

"I don't—" David sighs out.

"See something we don't?" Dwayne questions, folding his arms.

"No, nothing, I—"

"You never talk to us, boss!" Marko complains.

"Yeah, like, you never consulted us about Star." Paul nods.

"I needed help, with Laddie." Dwayne starts, and it's more than David can take, but the boys continue.

"Yeah, Dwayne needed you, and I needed you," Paul continues, looking from David to Marko, " y'know, with him."

"Shut up, both of you." His head is pulsating at this point, and he knows his fangs are out, and the blurring of the corners of his vision is indicated his eyes have transitioned too. "I gave you a gift, Dwayne. You gave it to Laddie, and Paul, you gave it to Marko."

He talked faster, so as to not be interrupted. "You loved it, you all fucking loved it. Because we all had nothing, and now our something is everything. We have fun, right? We go out, we kill, we feed, we party, because that's who we are, it's who we always will be."

"Sh Sh Sh, David," Star consoles, taking David's face in her hands. She laughs softly, and it eases his piss-poor mood slightly. "Nobody is attacking you, alright? We all love you."

"Yeah," And the voice seems to come from Paul, Marko, Dwayne, and Laddie all at once. "We just wish we could go back to the way it was, before."

"Before Michael?" David corrects, suddenly realizing where the conversation is going.

"Before Michael." Star repeats, completely stunning David.

"But, you picked him. It was you, Star. You wanted him, and you got him."

"No, David," she chuckles, giving him a matter of fact look, "you picked him."

It should be wrong, but it's all too right.

"Oh, all of you, fuck off."