Alan jerked up, clutching his handful of pencil stakes defensively. He and Sam were preparing to hunker down behind some comic racks when they heard Edgar's scream.

"How did they get in?!" Sam yelped, grouping up with Alan with a sharpened pencil clutched to his chest.

"They've been planning this for ages," Alan pointed out, eyes wide and anxiously staring towards the beaded curtain. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. They couldn't just let his brother fight whoever or whatever was back there alone. He couldn't lose anyone else to those things.

"Sam," Alan whispered, directing his attention to his friend and fellow hunter, "we've got to go back there and help him. I'm going to go in first, but you stay behind me and wait for a signal if I need you."

Sam screwed up his features, looking back towards the entrance of the shop where the grating had been pulled down and locked securely. Alan had to hand it to him. The kid had stuck by them longer than anyone else who'd found out what was really hiding under the veneer of Santa Carla's live music and beach party scene. It had only been a few months, sure, but a record was a record. Not to mention - - he'd lost his brother. Just like Edgar and Alan had lost their sister. They'd stick together tonight. Put Michael Emerson to rest, for Sam's sake. But first there was Edgar to worry about.

"What's the signal?" Sam hissed, snatching some of Alan's sharpened pencil stakes as he held them out as an offering.

"Help," Alan replied.

"Help with what?"

"No, if I say help, that's the signal."

"Seriously?! What kind of signal is that?"

Alan ignored Sam's hissed outburst and crouched down, army crawling towards the beaded curtain at the back of the shop. He could hear a scuffle and some grunting. Edgar was probably holding his own just fine by the sound of it, but there was only one way to find out.

The strings of the curtain above him clacked and rattled as he parted them, tacky flashes of red-lit plastic casting a pattern of dots over his back. He debated whether it was smart to call out to his brother, as he glanced around the back store room. Through a path behind a line of metal shelving, he could see Edgar's feet dancing back and forth as if he was in an intense fight. Alan crawled around the corner of the shelves with his pencil stake at the ready in one hand.

That was when it happened.

Something heavy came sailing towards him, smacking Alan hard in the face and pushing him to the ground.

"Back off!" Edgar shouted, just as a box of comics spilled out over Alan, dazing him.


They lounged on the roof of the shop together, the scene below a thought passed between them. It was Marko's turn to take the wheel, his claws firmly dug into Edgar's mind as he crafted the illusion of the Frog brother's dirty secret come back to life. Without being eye to eye, it wasn't quite as simple to fuck with a human's head. Marko had to focus, which meant he'd be more vulnerable if the others weren't keeping tabs on him.

Paul kept Marko's head in his lap, idly twirling the smaller blonde's curls while he pressed a cigarette to his mouth. Unlaced. For this special occasion, they were all going to be sober. Nothing could go wrong tonight.

"So how does this work?" Michael asked, leaning back on his elbows beside David. They'd ended up sharing their meal tonight after all. It had eased his irritation with the older vampire somewhat.

"We take turns, dig into their heads a little, find out what makes them tick," David explained. He had his gloves off, laying on his chest. His hands were clasped above his head, claws extended.

"So it's like the maggots," Michael said, the hard feelings over that joke long forgotten once he'd figured it out.

"Nah," David shook his head. "It's much worse."

"The maggots were easy," Dwayne explained. He was sitting opposite Michael, fiddling with a switchblade he'd nicked off his meal that night. Occasionally he'd push it into the roof sheeting slowly and firmly. It sliced through like butter.

"Eddie," Marko cooed, "I'm so cold. My skin won't stay on! Hug me."

Michael held back a laugh, imagining the scene that was playing on in the building below. He'd expected something a little bloodier tonight, but this game had it's own charm. It was all Paul's idea, too.

"We'll just break them," he'd suggested on their flight to the comic shop. "Twist their heads until they don't know what's real or not. If they run outside, we eat 'em. If not, we keep fucking with their heads whenever they're on the boardwalk. Sooner or later they'll crack."

Michael looked up at the night sky. The lights on the boardwalk hadn't gone out yet, but he could still see the stars. It was a good night.

"You'll get a turn when Marko's done," David remarked, eyes closed as he continued to lie on the rooftop.

"I will?" Michael asked, surprised. "I don't know how."

"You'll learn. I can help with that," David replied, one eye cracking open as a slow smile crept over his features. "I'll help you with a lot of things tonight, Michael." He added in the younger vampire's mind, a thought shared between the two of them.

It took him a moment to mull that over.

"David?" Michael finally asked, nervous to broach the subject.

David didn't respond, but he was listening. Casual on the outside, but very obviously interested. The energy between them always seemed to have an intensity to it. From the very beginning.

"What do you want?" Michael pressed on. This shouldn't make him as nervous as it did.

"Not much. Blood every now and again. Booze. Music," David replied slowly, as if he was pondering each idea, "you."

There it was. The obvious and the not so obvious. Everything up until tonight hadn't really been a hint from David so much as a demand. He was always touching Michael. Close to him. Guiding him. Some of it he'd assumed went with the territory of being pack, but then he was never quite so intimate with the others. A couple of nights they'd all shotgunned good weed together in giddy fits, sure.

Then there was that kiss. The night they'd gone for a swim. Yeah, okay. David wanted him. Michael wasn't stupid.

He noticed then that both of David's eyes were open now, staring back at him. Observing him. Like always.

"Since when?" Michael asked, stalling for time. He wasn't sure what to say. He'd very nearly killed David before, after all. There was a slight pang of guilt in his chest over that whole experience. He could admit it now.

"Always," David replied. "Maybe since Star caught your eye and brought you to us. Maybe when you thought you could take me in a fight at the bluffs. Does it matter?"

Michael sat up, shaking his head, "I guess not."

"What about you?" David said aloud. He wasn't going to wait for answers anymore. Michael felt Paul and Dwayne's eyes on him. If Marko weren't sobbing quite literally like a little girl in that moment, he'd have no doubt been watching him too.

This was a fucked up way to turn up the pressure. Maybe if he hadn't brought up the subject or asked about it, he could've bought himself a little more time. Now he couldn't wait any longer. They couldn't lie to each other. It was quite literally impossible. Michael didn't even try.

"Yeah," he admitted. His eyes focused intensely on David's, nerves relaxing and anxious thoughts fading into the background. It was easier to admit than he'd realized. "I want you, David…"