Author's note: A portion of this was inspired by some nightmares I had back in November after my grandmother's funeral. Obviously none of the intimate parts. But nothing is freakier than talking to or seeing someone in your dreams right after their funeral.
He could feel the rough press of towel fibers against his back, and water licking at his feet before drawing away and coming back again to repeat the process.
There was a warm yellow glow behind the darkness of his eyelids, as if he were being bathed in sunlight. Michael twitched, and sighed. There was a slender, soft body pressing into his side, nestling under his arm. The heat of a long mane of hair entwined in his hand. Hot from lying out in the sun the whole afternoon.
The sun? Suddenly, his dead heart shuddered to life and begin to hammer in his chest, and he opened his eyes wide in fear. And he awaited the burning pain of fire to engulf his body...
But none came. The body beside him merely shifted and sat up. Michael gazed into the soft eyes of the girl he had seen dead, and borne again into an empty shell...but she was not howling. Nor was her face drawn into a permanent vicious mask of grimacing teeth.
"Michael? Is there something wrong?" Star placed a hand under his chin and gently rubbed her thumb in circular motions.
"What? No...I'm fine..." He croaked, still unsure of what was happening. Maybe the whole year had merely been a nightmare, and it only felt real because he was half-awake. He awaited the relief that should follow, when awareness of reality would seep back in, and he'd remember waking up the day after the fight to head off to the beach with Star in tow. But it didn't come. He didn't remember doing that at all...he only remembered David.
"I was getting worried about you. You were crying in your sleep," she moved the hand that held his chin and reached up to wipe away tears from his cheek. She drew back, her fingers smeared in blood.
"It's a waste of a good meal," she remarked and placed her hand to her face, drawing her tongue across her fingers to lap up his tears.
"Star?" Michael began to panic anew, rushing to raise himself on his elbows...but she simply pushed him back to the ground. She still looked the same. Sweet and soulful. The very same vision he'd first seen on the boardwalk before she drew him into darkness against her own will.
"Why didn't you let me stay dead, Michael?" She asked, leaning down and nuzzling her head against his bare chest.
"Star...I couldn't...I didn't know this would happen..." He struggled for the right words. An apology seemed pointless, given the circumstances.
"You're just like David, Michael. Only thinking of yourself, and no one else. The day you killed a man, everything that was good in you died. All that was left behind was what David made. You are a monster. You drove me to suicide...if you'd just let me go...I might have still been alive. If you'd just let me go even when I died, I'd be free. You trapped me, Michael. Please let me go," she whispered against his chest.
He wrapped his arms tightly about her shoulders to keep her from rolling away. Slipping off and disappearing forever. She didn't know what she was asking him to do. She couldn't know.
"I'm not like him, Star. I love you!" He insisted, stubbornly, though his words sounded hollow even to his own ears. Did he really love her anymore? Or was he chasing the memory of what love felt like?
"You're one of us now. You have no heart to love with, Michael..." It wasn't Star speaking now, but David.
Michael looked up to see the blonde monster hovering above them, a blackish-red mass throbbing in one gory hand. Michael's beating heart. The sun behind him had faded into a red haze, painting the surf that still continued to lick at Michael's feet the color of blood.
Looking down at Star, all he could see was a ravening beast licking around the torn chest cavity that had once held the muscle.
The scream that tore itself from his lungs echoed well into the waking world, and there was an answering howl from a distance. The cry of Star, hungry, and irritated to be disturbed from her sleep...
"Shit, Michael!" David exploded, shoving him away. Losing his balance, he was sent hurdling towards the floor below. He barely had enough time to recover, and came close to a very nasty collision.
Michael crouched on the ground, panting. He was shaken by the dream, more so than he should be. But then again, he hadn't had a dream in over a year. It was part and parcel with being dead. None of them could dream, that he knew of.
"Are you coming back to bed?" David hissed from above, irritable and grouchy. Michael gazed up at all of them, who were equally as upset to have their sleep disturbed. Should he tell them about it, or-...no. He'd keep the dream to himself. Preserve it like a treasure. Something told him that if David learned of his dream, he'd try to take it away, just like he took everything else.
"Sorry...I just forgot I was sleeping upside-down..." He called out weakly, rising to take his place on the perch again. It was a pathetic lie, but none of them were too terribly interested in what he had to say. David was the only one still awake, waiting to resume their position together.
Before he closed his eyes, Michael ran a hand along his chest, and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no gaping hole...or at least...not anymore.
"Hey mom, seeing as Ed and Alan haven't been back in Santa Carla in so long, I was thinking we could go to the beach," Sam peeked hopefully around his mother's bedroom door as she made her bed. Edgar and Alan were huddled behind him as emotional guilt back-up.
"After what you pulled last night?" Lucy snorted. "I don't think so. No, you're going to mow the lawn, vacuum, clean both bathrooms..." She paused, biting her bottom lip. "...and tidy up Star's room. When she comes back, I want her to feel welcome." Lucy proceeded to smooth the bottom of the bed comforter as she said this. There were probably a thousand meanings behind that last statement.
Sam pulled back and sighed.
"Sorry, guys. I tried my best. We'll just have to finish investigating later..."
"What do you mean 'later'? We're cleaning Star's room. Your brother's room. The same place you saw him last..." Edgar smirked. "There's probably a few clues in there..."
"After a year?!" Sam asked, incredulous. They just didn't give up!
"You ever heard of 'cold cases'?" Alan asked, crossing his arms, and looking for all the world like he was trying to intimidate rather than convince Sam that snooping in Star's room was a good idea.
"What are those?" Sam rolled his eyes.
"Cases that got cold," Edgar rasped, crossing his arms as well.
"Okay. Thanks for clearing that up. Listen, I'm going to mow the lawn. You guys can-"
"Clear the room. Got it," Edgar spun on his heels and left, closely followed by Alan.
"Wait, hold on! If we're going through her stuff, I'm gonna keep an eye on you!" Sam rushed after them. He was oddly protective of Star. She'd lived with them a whole year, and she was a sweet girl. She deserved a little privacy and respect. Knowing the Frogs, they'd tear the room up if he wasn't keeping an eye on them. All in the name of misguided vampire hunting. He was really struggling to understand their trains of thought on this one.
Thorn paced the lobby anxiously, whining and scratching at the dirt in certain places.
"Did you take him out, Marko?" Paul asked, lounging on the couch and tucking a joint into his mouth. Even if it felt like the span of time between dying and being brought back to life was only a few minutes, he really felt like he had a lot of catching up to do with Mary Jane.
"Huh? He takes himself out, Paulie. He's a hellhound, for crying out loud," Marko rolled his eyes as he hovered upside down on the cave ceiling, a pigeon nestled in his hands.
"Well there's gotta be something wrong with him," David drawled, lazily pushing his wheelchair back and forth with one foot as he sat in it.
"He wants to go somewhere," Dwayne supplied, turning a page in his copy of 'War and Peace.' Much like Paul, he felt he had a lot to catch up on. His drug of choice just so happened to be Tolstoy at the moment.
"Michael, take Thorn for a walk!" David shouted behind him. Michael was leaning against the wall tossing a baseball into the air when the command was issued. He rolled his eyes and flipped his maker the bird before patting his knee to get Thorn's attention.
"C'mon," Michael called out to the dog, who happily dashed towards him...and then through a large hollow in one of the cave walls.
"Shit..." He murmured under his breath and dropped the baseball so he could take after him. The passage was just wide enough for him to fit through, but it was still uncomfortable.
"What's that all about?" Marko wondered, letting the pigeon in his hands fly free and crawling across the roof to grab another. Each bird would receive his equal devoted attention.
"Probably smelled something," Paul snickered. It wasn't really funny, but he was pretty stoned at this point.
"Could be something dangerous," Dwayne added, looking up from his book. This gave them all a moment to pause. The silence was interrupted by a high-pitched laugh from Paul.
"Maybe we should follow them..." Marko hovered to the ground, one of his pigeons still tucked into his hands as he stroked it.
"They're fine. There's nothing dangerous here. Nothing dangerous to us. Thorn and Michael can take care of themselves," David closed his eyes and continued to move his wheelchair back and forth.
Michael's scream and Thorn's vicious growl rang through the air at that moment, putting their relaxing evening to an end.
"Oh, right...there's Star..." Marko trailed off, a sly smile hovering on his lips.
"Oh, goody! I haven't seen her since she ran off with Mikey!" Paul clapped his hands and jerked up on the couch.
"...You don't want to see her," Marko laughed.