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Building the Lost Boys

Chapter Text

"I told you not to come in here anymore." Max could barely keep the scowl off his face. David smiled, as did the other Lost Boys, but they did as requested and left the video rental store. Back out into the night, back to hunting. Max looked back at Lucy, the scowl still resting on the corners of his lips. "Wild kids."

"Oh, they're just young. We were that age, too, once. Only, they dress better!" Lucy brushed off the scowl with her soft, mild laugh. Max couldn't help it. She was perfect. An angel, heaven-sent. The perfect mother...

"You've got a generous nature. I like that in a person. My name is Max."

I've been watching, while you've been coughing
I've been drinking life while you've been nauseous
And so I drink to health, while you kill yourself
And I've got just one thing that I can offer

It was later. The Boardwalk was still full of people, mostly with teenagers and adults having a good time, the kiddies all gone to bed. Max sat in his convertible, parked on one of the grassy overlooks off the road that were nestled in the low hills above the town.

"They're just too wild! There's no question about it. They need a mother." Max seemed to be talking to himself, and pretty much was, as the corpse of the brunette in the passenger-side seat wasn't talking anymore. Her glassy eyes stared down at the Boardwalk and the sea's ever rolling waves. "They need rules, a firm hand, guidance!"

Max sighed and wiped his bloodied lips on a Kleenex he pulled from the glove compartment. It was beginning again, as it had before. The Boys always got reckless, were careless and wild. It didn't matter what century the world was revolving around in. It was a fact: boys needed a mother.

And I won't preach to you but here's a caution
You'd better understand, I won't hold your hand
But if it helps you mend, then I won't stop it

His own 'father', Max remembered, had faced the same challenges when raising his brood. Thankfully enough, Camellia had come along and fulfilled the need. She had been a good 'mother', caring and kind. It surely belied the cold-blooded killer beneath those exquisite porcelain features, but women were a lot different in the 19th century compared to the women of today. All this talk of breaking the glass ceiling and women's empowerment and equal rights. It did get on Max's nerves after a while.

"Lucy's different. A lot like Camellia. Kind, generous, caring! Look how she helped that lost little boy! Saved him from the wolves, as it were." Max chuckled to himself. The 'wolves' prowling Santa Carla were of his own creation, but still...

Drown if you want
And I'll see you at the bottom
Where you'll crawl, on my skin
And put the blame on me so you don't feel a thing

Max was tired. Not just physically, but mentally. He was tired of covering for the Boys. Hiding their kills, paying off the cops and political officials of the town to keep their existence under wraps. It was a drain on him financially. It was time to get them a mother.

And her name was Lucy. Sweet, sweet Lucy Emerson...

Chapter Text

"Ow!" David rubbed his head vigorously, again, trying to rub away the pain. It was the third time today he'd smacked his head into the cave ceiling. Max had really failed in teaching him the ropes of flying.

That, and a whole lot of other things.

And with the morning dawn
Moving right along
I couldn't buy an eyeful of sleep

He'd been a vampire, fully, for two weeks now. Not only was he still trying to get the hang of flying, but he'd also gotten a bit of a 'sunburn', getting caught flying in way late instead of being safely back in the cave before sunrise. David assumed his new supernatural senses would give him a head's up when the sun was rising.

So far, no. It was all trial and error.

And in the aching night under the satellites
I was not received
Built with stolen parts
A telephone in my heart

David was lonely. Without stating it aloud or in words, Max had charged David with finding companions for the long nights. To make his own brothers using that ornate bottle full of blood, the one kept on the shelf in the cave.

Seemed easy, right? Not so much. David was still new to Santa Carla! How was he to find friends in the first place, let alone make them into vampires? Especially if he was only able to hang out during the night hours!

Someone get me a priest
To put my mind to bed
This ringing in my head
Is this a cure or is this a disease

Still absentmindedly rubbing his head and wishing for ice, David picked up a tome Max had stuffed in a box that he'd give to the boy after leaving him to live in the Cave. It was old, that was for sure. David was afraid the pages would crumble in his hand but they held together. Yellowed with age, it seemed to be some type of children's book. The text was written in ink, but far more fancy then anything David had ever seen.

And in the after birth
On the quiet earth
Let the stains remind you

"Ew!" David dropped the journal suddenly. It took him a moment to realize the bloody stains were dried, probably decades old. Looking around, realizing he was alone, his tough facade returned. David usually wasn't squeamish about anything, especially blood now. But something about that stain...

Trying again, recovering the book from the dirt floor, David settled down on the dilapidated loveseat and started to read. Oddly, the story was about a boy alone on an island... looking for friends and a family, just like David... But he flew via pixie dust, instead of being a vampire. Nor did Peter ride a motorcycle.

You thought you made a man
You better think again
Before my role defines you

David felt a new sense of purpose after finishing reading Peter Pan. He felt above and beyond the rules of the city, of the world, of man. Maybe Peter Pan and his Lost Boys were just like vampires: a totally different species. They had made their own family, their own rules, and forged an existence all on their own.

And in your waiting hands
I will land
And roll out of my skin
And in your final hours I will stand
Ready to begin

"All right, Max. You get your wish." David smiled, returning the storybook to the box, and rising from his chair. It was time to find his gang: The Lost Boys.

Chapter Text

David was bored. Another Saturday night, the sun long down, and the Boardwalk crowded to capacity. With this many people, there just had to be someone out there who would make a perfect member of his gang. Who would be the first new Lost Boy?

Of course, this was difficult, considering David wasn't great on people skills, and how do you approach someone and ask them to join the legions of the undead?

Lighting a cigarette, he continued to balance on the railing of the Boardwalk, looking dark and ominous to the passers by. Parents who passed by him automatically prayed their children would not grow up to look like that scruffy punk in the oversized trench coat. Especially with that filthy smoking habit.

David sighed and was about to give in and go get some 'dinner' when he heard a swell of cheering coming from the crowd. Apparently there was a concert on the beach tonight. Hundreds of teenagers were crushed in a huge mass against the outdoor stage.

"Let's hear it for Psycho Voodoo Mummies!" A stagehand was shouting into the mic, announcing the band. The entire band rushed the stage, crowding onto the tiny platform. They were all dressed up in a lot of spandex and makeup, with ratted hair sprayed within inches of its life.

David rolled his eyes. A local band. Ugh.

The show started but the band was just bad. Well, David took that back. The front man slash singer was bad. Really bad. Suddenly, there was a commotion and a tall, lanky blond guy jumped onstage. He wrested away the microphone from the singer. David's interest perked up.

He was standing at the rock
Gathering the flock
And getting there with no directions

"Is it just me or did we come here to night to ROCK!" The lanky blonde roared into the microphone, causing the sound system to produce major feedback. The crowed roared back its approval. The original singer clawed at the blond guy, trying to take back the mic. The band, stunned by the turn of events, sat motionless, watching to see what was going to happen.

With a hard push, the Psycho Voodoo Mummies' front man took an unplanned nosedive over the front of the stage. The lanky blond, his hair a wild mane ratted and teased into an enormous mess, smiled darkly and turned to the band. He seemed to tell them something, with a lot of hand gestures. Almost immediately they kicked into an impromptu rendition of the Kiss hit "Rock and Roll All Night", with said blond singing.

And underneath the arch
It turned into a march
And there he found the spark to
Set this fucker off

David smiled, greatly amused. The blond had balls, that was for sure. And he could sing, better then the sorry excuse for the front man of Psycho Voodoo Mummies. He wasn't Gene Simmons, but the crowd didn't care.

He said set it off
Set it off now children
Set it right
Set it off
Set it off now children
Set it a fire

With David and the crowd watching, the lanky blond ripped through several hair metal cover songs. The tight white jeans hugged his legs and butt, the fishnet shirt exposing his bare chest beneath. The calf-high black boots were snug as his pants, laced tightly. But the piece de resistance was the old thrift store tuxedo jacket the blond wore over the fishnet shirt, complete with tears, rips, and tails. The lights made the safety pins and chains attached sparkle. He was almost a caricature of a gentleman gone wrong. But he played the crowd just as much as they fed his need for attention.

He lay in need of some attention
And there he played his card
Going into shock
The last thing that he said was
Set this fucker off

The world seemed to stop. This guy, who had the audience captive in his hands, impressed David. He wasn't above taking control of a situation, he commanded attention, and he could make chicks swoon. What more could David possibly want in a gang member?

Everything is all right
All we need is some direction
Every time the wind blows
Everything you don't know
Turns into a revelation

Around midnight, the Boardwalk security came over and broke up the concert. The lanky blond posed on stage, a few camera flashes going off, before jumping down into the sand. Smiling, he made his way through the throng of people, which suddenly scattered as a bleached-blond dude made his way towards him. David's presence seemed to instantly part the crowd, and as he reached the blond they fell into step alongside each other.

"You made quite a splash this evening."

"Thanks, dude."

"My name's David." A gloved hand shot out. He took it, shaking heartily.

"My name is Paul Swafford. Are you some kind of talent agent or something?"

"No. I'm something better. Tell me, have you ever read Peter Pan before...?"

Chapter Text

He hated it. Hated it so much!

House is haunted
I just wanna go for a ride

Out and on before I set this room alight

Dwayne flew down the gravel road towards nowhere, anger pushing him as much as his feet pushed along his skateboard. He couldn't see though the fury, his vision teary as the wind whipped his hair into his eyes.

Left alone forever and for crimes unclear
With my patience gone
Someone take me far from here

He couldn't take his dad's abuse any more. It was just too much. It was bad enough seeing him sit around day after day, drunk, but when the name calling and yelling started, it was all Dwayne could do not to punch him.

It had never been like this before Mom died.

Clearly more than I can bear
Drag me off
Before I set my world on fire

He stopped short, the gravel spraying out under his wheels. This was farther then he'd ever run before, into the woods by the railroad tracks. Crap, he thought. It was getting dark fast and he was out here without a flashlight.

Picking up his skateboard, he headed back in the direction of the house. He really didn't want to, but he also didn't want to be alone out in the woods. They didn't call Santa Carla the 'Murder Capital of the World' for nothing.

As it grew darker still, Dwayne realized he'd gotten lost at some point on the road. Weary, he pushed his way through an overgrown tangle of bushes and came upon an old railroad bridge over a crevasse. He didn't hear water running; peering over the edge, he couldn't see below, the canyon filled with fog.

No what for's, only a can
Of red, says danger on it

Dwayne sat on the edge of a tie, his legs dangling out over nothing. What would it be like to jump, to fall, to crash on whatever lie below? To find darkness, the end, eternal blackness? It sure would piss off his old man. Dwayne chucked the last of his cigarette, watching it disappear into nothing.

"Nice evening, isn't it."

Dwayne whipped around, catching his balance before falling off the tie. "Who's there?"

A guy, who looked to be around his age, was standing about five feet from him. He was almost like a ghostly apparition. All Dwayne could see was his face and hair, which were both funeral lily white. He looked as though a giant black coat had swallowed the rest of him. "I'm David. Call me curious, but what are you doing out here? Not many people come here, especially at this time of night."

"Nuthin', really." Dwayne turned back to face the emptiness below him. He could hear the other guy's boots on the ties, walking closer.

"I'm David."

"Dwayne Gonzales. You new to Santa Carla?"

"You might say that."

"Thought so, 'cause I haven't seen you around before."

"Nope."

Dwayne lit another cigarette. What was this weirdo guy doing around here? Did he hang out on this bridge like some kind of troll? Was he one of those sicko, mass murdering types?

"Ever read Peter Pan, Dwayne?"

Dwayne cocked a brow. Okay... maybe David was just high on something. "Um, my mom might have read it to me, a long time ago. Wasn't it a cartoon movie?"

"Probably. Disney exploits everything." David lit his own cigarette and sat down beside Dwayne, his huge black boots dangling over the side of the tracks. Dwayne noticed the silver spurs buckled onto David's boots and raised a brow. "More importantly, do you remember the Lost Boys that Peter hung out with?"

Dwayne shook his head. He really should get up and leave before this weirdo said anything crazier...

"Well, they were boys who made the pact that they never wanted to grow up, never wanted to play by anyone's rules but their own. They held all the cards, you could say."

"So?"

David smiled. It was creepy, with the way his face glowed so pale in the moonlight. "You want to play by your own rules, Dwayne? I know you hate your father. You hate how he treats you."

Dwayne choked and coughed. "How the hell did you know!"

Out and gone
The sun will never set tonight

"In time, Dwayne. Come with me. Become a Lost Boy..."

Chapter Text

Marko Powell sat on the beach, in his good suit, staring out at the setting sun. The waves lolling in and out, lapping at the sand. Ever moving, ever changing, ever carrying on.

A guy wasn't suppose to bury his best friend at seventeen.

I could read your thoughts
Tell you what you saw
And never say a word
Now all that is gone
Over with and done - never to return

Oh sure, he knew it had to have happened before. But it wasn't suppose to happen to him and Jackson. Especially not during their favorite pastime: surfing. Oh it had been a glorious day, the breakers were strong and steady... if only they hadn't paddled out so far! Marko cursed himself; he'd always been the one who played it safe and stayed well within the limits of the beach, knowing what lay farther out was pretty uncharted. Rocks just below the surface, rip tides, driftwood coming in from sea after storms.

And of all days he had picked to play on the edge.

Jackson paid the price.

I can't tell you why
People die alone

No one blamed Marko. Jackson had willingly gone with him. It was just an accident. One that probably could have been prevented but hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

I can tell you I'm
A shadow of the sun

And so Marko sat, getting sand on his good dress pants, staring out at the water that had taken away his best friend in the world. He dug his bare toes in the sand, seeking out the last of the warmth, a slight breeze building up. A storm was coming in, still far off the coast. The sun sank lower, drowning beneath the Pacific.

Staring at the loss
Looking for a cause

It was dark when he heard the sound of steps on the sand. It was a soft noise, but considering there was no one else near him for a good distance, it carried enough to be heard. Plus there was the matter of his personal space being invaded.

"Hello." The voice was low, gravelly from too many cigarettes.

"Look, I'm sorta in the mood to be alone. No offense or anything-" Marko felt snappish. He turned his head, his long blond curls sliding back over his shoulder. The bleached-blond guy looked like the Grim Reaper in that oversized trench coat. "Oh wait, am I dead? Is this where you tell me I drowned and Jackson didn't?"

The other guy raised an eyebrow slowly, clearly not sure what Marko was speaking of. "Oh, the trench coat. Sorry, not the Reaper. Close but no cigar."

"What do you mean 'close'?" Marko was the confused one now.

"Mind if I smoke?"

"No."

David lit a cigarette. "I'm sorry about this Jackson guy. Can't say I knew him."

"He was my best bud." Marko turned back to the ocean.

And never really sure
Nothing but a hole

"Ah," David nodded. "Sorry, man."

Marko brushed at his face with a sleeve. Stupid tears, it was a bad time for them to show up now! Why not at the funeral? That would have been a more appropriate time, instead of in front of this weirdo punk.

To live without a soul
And nothing to be learned

David sat on the sand, far enough away not to freak out Marko but close enough to be heard over the wind. That is, after a long bit of silence.

"How old was he?"

"Seventeen. Same as me."

"Sad."

"Yeah."

More silence. David had gone through two more smokes before Marko piped up. "You know, why are you still here? I told you, I was in the mood to be alone."

"Oh. Well, I came to ask you a question, really." David folded his gloved hands in his lap. Marko just stared at him. "Have you ever read Peter Pan?"

"Oh geez, you're that weirdo who's been hanging around the Boardwalk, asking people if they know about the Lost Boys from Peter Pan, aren't you!" Marko threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes.

"I'm that well known already?"

"Well, it is really creepy, dude... a guy your age into a kid's book..."

I can tell you why
People go insane
I can show you how
You could do the same

"Creepy?"

"Yeah, creepy." Marko rolled his eyes again. Clearly this guy had a loose screw.

David was silent a moment, lips pursed. "Tell me why."

"Why what? Why it's creepy?" David nodded. "Well... I dunno. I mean, from what I've heard you talk about staying young forever and having fun, making your own rules and stuff."

"What's creepy about that?"

"Well... uh..." Marko trailed off. He really didn't have an answer. "I guess it's 'cause we're all gonna grow up eventually, be adults, be productive in society."

"Most of you will. I won't."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

David shifted a bit. "It would be really easier to show you. I mean, words really can't do it justice anymore. I'm kind of into visual demonstrations."

Marko smirked. "What guy isn't?"

"Shut up."

"Hey, you came to me, not the other way around!"

"Fine, sorry. Really. Do you want to see what I'm talking about or not?"

I can tell you why
The end will never come

Marko sighed. There wasn't really anything left to do here. He couldn't say goodbye nor did he have it in his heart to sit and mourn the rest of his life. Jackson would want him to live life.

"Okay. Show me."

"Not here."

"Where, then?"

"Just a little ways away, not far."

"My bike's up at the Boardwalk. Will I need it?"

"Yeah. Mine's up there, too."

Marko rose, dusting off the sand from his pants. Shouldering his suit jacket, he studied David. "I didn't catch your name."

"David."

"Marko."

"A pleasure, Marko. You won't regret this."

I can tell you I'm
A shadow on the sun

"We'll see about that. Hey dude, what'd you have done to your teeth? They look wicked!"

Chapter Text

This was it. His gang was assembled. Everything was nearing completion. David smiled as he rode down the dirt path at full tilt, the other three boys following behind on their own modified bikes. Nothing could stop them now!

I was on my way to the center of the sun

When I lost my wings and I fell into a crowd

"Just up here!" he called over the roar of the souped-up engines. The other boys nodded and came to a stop just behind David's bike.

Where no one could see
And no one would be around

David rubbed his gloved palms together, grinning. The others really didn't know why he'd brought them here yet; it was too exciting to just blurt it out back at the cave. He had to make it perfect, memorable. Marko nervously glanced at Paul, who looked towards Dwayne. Dwayne didn't notice; he was too busy trying to figure out where the music was coming from.

"Okay, boys," David smiled, motioning them in a huddle. "This is the moment you've been waiting for, working for, dreaming of."

"We're going to get laid?" Paul grinned, getting chuckles from everyone but David. Paul noticed the leader wasn't laughing. He shut up quick.

"Just over that hill is a summer camp group. They're camping out for the night." David smoothed his beloved coat and flicked away invisible dirt.

"So?" Dwayne cocked a brow, unimpressed.

"They are the last step in your initiation, boys."

Marko frowned. "What do they have to do..."

"Oh, I get it." Paul grinned. David nodded, his grin a reflection of the blond's. Dwayne's eyes sparkled with recognition. Lastly, Marko caught on and that child-like grin spread across his features.

"Finish them and then you'll be just like me." David smiled, eyes glowing and fangs showing.

I am a virus, I live in silence

The summer campers never knew what hit their camp. It had been peaceful, cheery, and lighthearted. Then, in a heartbeat, a wash of gore and bloodshed; thoughtless, wanton slaughter.

Marko grinned, finishing off a camp counselor who had been his first meal. She was as sweet as the wine his parents had let him have at his birthday when he was fourteen. He licked his fingers, savoring the drops.

Paul howled happily as he cracked the heads of the two pre-teen boys together, immensely enjoying the smacking sound of their skulls. It warmed him through to bone and marrow, as the rich blood poured down his throat.

Dwayne roared, tackling the lone elder male counselor. He went down with a thud, like a sack of meat. Another roar pierced the darkened sky as Dwayne found his jugular and drowned himself in the life fluid.

Where no one survives
And no one can hear the cries

David watched over like a parent witnessing their child take their first steps. The boys, now his brothers, were his equals. Finally! He had got them this far; he would get them through decades of un-life. As each of the boys dropped the last of the emptied bodies to the ground, he clapped loudly, the sound echoing off the surrounding trees. "Bravo, boys, bravo!"

And just like the heathens thinking
On our feet we believe in God
And with one step, two steps
Three steps towards the graveyard

Chapter Text

She was kidding herself. This time she'd done it, really was going to be punished. There was no way her mother would ignore this.

Right?

Judith Star Abramowitz had officially run away from home. It wasn't the first cry for attention in her short life: she'd broke curfew, shoplifted from the corner store, cut school classes, gotten into a fight with another girl at school, and been escorted home in a police cruiser. None of it had gained her mother's attention.

Her mother was too busy with her newest flavor of the week. This time it was a younger guy, maybe ten years her junior, who whispered sweet nothings in ears and brought along cheap chocolates when he came to pick her up on dates.

Star wanted to puke. For as long as she could remember, there was constantly a new man in the house, sometimes two a week if her mom was depressed over a breakup. It would have been worse had she had siblings but she was an only child. Star didn't know where her father was, or who he was, for that matter.

All she wanted was attention from her mom, to be noticed, to be told she was loved. But her mother was off chasing her own desire for attention. Too busy for the girl child she'd given birth to when she was just a child herself.

So on her 16th birthday, Star used the cash the newest boyfriend had stuck in a tacky birthday card, plus what she'd saved up, and purchased a bus ticket West. The money ran out as she hit the very edge of the West Coast, right on the Pacific Ocean.

Santa Carla.

So let me make an offer
I'm only trying to help
You can make your load
Just a little lighter

Star wandered the streets of Santa Carla. It was a sleepy town, a tourist town really, with the humongous Boardwalk hugging the beachfront. Star wished her mom was looking for her. She made effort to go out of her way to walk past every cop she came near, hoping there was a missing persons notice and they would recognize her from the grainy photo her mother had provided.

It hadn't happened. Did her mother even have a recent photo of her daughter? Star couldn't remember.

The sun was setting. Star rubbed her arms, wishing she'd packed a jacket. Wasn't it always supposed to be warm in California? The money was all gone, and she was gonna need a place to sleep. Should she beg? She'd seen some very dirty street kids asking for change. Star eyed her own clothes. She had been going through a very gypsy-like fashion phase and the tie-dye and jeans the street kids were wearing were rags compared to what she was dressed in.

She turned and headed back in the direction of the Boardwalk. Maybe she could find a job that would give her an advance, so she could get a motel room. Or if she couldn't she could start begging there. There were tons of people crowding the Boardwalk.

One already had eyes on her.

It's time to see
You got to live if you wanna believe
You can be

Her first stop was at the ticket booth, to ask if there was a list of stores that were hiring. No such luck. She stopped in every store that seemed like it might need to hire a worker only to be turned away. She didn't even stop in the comic store. Ew! Comics!

Something ran smack into her legs, nearly causing her to trip. Tangled in her skirts was a dirty ragamuffin, a mop of hair, and grubby hands.

"Hey! You need to watch out!" she said, untangling what she discovered was a little boy no more then seven.

"You were in my way!" the kid complained back.

"What's your name? Where are your parents?" Star realized the irony in her questions.

"Laddie. And I ranned away." He pouted, jamming his hands in his pockets, not looking up at the dark haired girl.

"You ran away?"

"Yeah, I hated my parents. Always telling me what to do." Laddie looked up into Star's face.

"I ran away too, Laddie."

"Really?"

Star nodded. "Only now I'm out of money. Where do you stay?"

"Under the Boardwalk, though I'm thinking of leaving there. The bigger kids are bullies." Laddie wiped his nose on his sleeve. He wore a jacket much like something off the Beatles' Sergeant Pepper's album cover.

"Is that where most of the street kids stay?" Star hoped not. It looked cold out there by the water.

"Some. Some sleep in the park. Can't sleep on the Boardwalk anymore. Security guard is a big meanie. You hungry? I know where to get some food." Laddie suddenly brightened, realizing he knew more then a big kid for a change.

Star nodded, took Laddie's hand and was lead off down the Boardwalk towards the hot dog stand. Somewhere close by, the roar of motorcycles pierced the night.

***

"Lookie what we have here!" A blond with a slash of a mouth cackled. Star was picking at the remainder of the hot dog she and Laddie had shared. It was old, and the bun was stale, but it was food.

"A shy girlie and her little brother!" A bigger, dark haired boy with a well-defined chest followed the loud mouth blond into the alley.

"Leave us alone!" Star called back as she pulled Laddie closer.

"Boys, that's no way to treat a lady." The first two stepped back as a bleached-blond boy in a black trench coat came forward. He grinned, a hint of wickedness in his eyes. He was swallowed alive by the coat, and his hair glowed white in the dim light. "You're new. I've never seen you in town."

"Please, go away. We don't have anything to give you." Star put an arm around Laddie, who munched away on his half of the hot dog, seemingly unafraid.

"Like we would mug such a pretty face." David clicked his tongue and shook his head, and the Boys laughed menacingly. "Laddie, please do introduce your new friend."

"This is Star. She's real nice. She shared a hot dog with me!" Laddie jumped down from the crate they'd been sitting on. Star stared at the little boy.

"You know these guys, Laddie?"

"Yup," Laddie nodded and walked to the dark-haired boy, who gave him a low five.

"Star, huh." David grinned and walked towards the girl. "Tell me, Star, do you know the story of Peter Pan?"

Star stared at the blonde. "Uhhh... is this some sort of joke?"

"No."

"Well, yeah, I know the story. Why?"

"We're looking for a Wendy."

Well I know you got problems
I see it in your eyes
But if you want to live
To see the morning
Give it up to your brother

Chapter Text

I am not your autumn moon
I am the night

We prowl the Boardwalk, like the lions of the Serengeti. Our prey walks on two legs instead of four but is just as oblivious to us. Families on vacation; local teenagers who've come to escape their parents' gaze and have fun. Transients, staying long enough to find another ride down South to the concrete jungle of Los Angeles.

All are equal in our eyes. All pulse with life, with blood. Everything we need to survive on.

Sometimes I don't think the others take it as serious as I do. This... being this is a gift. It's not just for fun; it's not just to stay young forever. It was not given so we can own the town, like greedy kings.

It was given so we might be a family.

Friends and liars don't wait for me
I'll get on all by myself

We are a family. Much like the sovereign heads of foreign countries, we were installed to govern and rule Santa Carla proper and its citizens. Our judgment is law, and our justice is swift. We take care of our servants and they serve us by giving their lives.

We're deserving of such loyalty, such sacrifice, right?

I am not your blowing wind
I am the lightning

I think Marko understands. When I talk about our jobs, our importance in the food chain of life, he listens intently. Dwayne does sometimes; it's hard to tell a lot of the time what he thinks of his new 'life'. Paul... What can I say? Paul loves the benefits.

Star is reluctant and holds Laddie back in her arms. It's only a matter of waiting. I have time on my side. She'll see the light, if you pardon the expression.

No one would ever suspect us. We're too young looking and though we're considered troublemakers no one would ever peg us for a murderous bunch of vampires. We're just 'wild kids', as Max loves to say.

Who need a real mother.

Long and weary my road has been

Max brought up his plan to me a few nights ago. He wants to find a woman who can be a mother to us, guide and nurture us, 'like all boys should have.' He doesn't think Star is fit for the role, and I'll admit he's probably right. I just think Max's lonely.

I was lonely, before the Boys. I suppose it's only fair to Max.

Just don't call Thorn 'Nana'.