From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who's read (and is still reading) this story so far. Every comment means so much to me. :) This chapter has been more or less "complete" for months now, but I didn't feel very confident to post it. I also wasn't sure yet where exactly I want this story to go. I think I've worked through those problems, so here's to hoping for a regular update schedule from here on out. ;)

"Hey, David?"

Michael's voice cut through the silence that had fallen between them, snapping David out of his own mind. David was sitting on the ground with his back against a thick tree, an arm resting across one of his knees, while Michael finished digging up the graves. They'd switched places at the brunette's insistence when he had almost reached his limit. He wouldn't be able to recharge just by sitting down for a half-hour or so, but it was a nice excuse to gather his thoughts and plan his next course of action. "Hmm?"

Michael's expression was pinched. He wasn't digging anymore; David didn't recall when he'd stopped. The hole was very large at this point, as his two brothers had been buried right next to each other. Maybe Michael just needed a break. David sure had. "Where're you gonna keep them, while they…you know."

For a moment David considered whether to tell Michael—not for lack of trust in him, but rather a strong distrust in the friends of his nosy little brother. Michael must have noticed his hesitation, because he added, "I'm just curious. Is it the hotel? You're probably moving back in there, right?"

Michael was oddly curious about where they'd be staying, wasn't he?

David trusted that he wouldn't betray their location, accidentally or otherwise. "Probably not. If those kids suspect we're back, they'll go to the hotel first. Marko is at Max's right now. That's where we'll all stay." He could practically hear his family screaming at him from beyond the grave to shut his mouth. They would probably think he'd completely lost his mind to be putting his faith in Michael again so soon, but David just couldn't shirk the impossible hold that the boy had on him.

Michael's eyes widened. "Wait, M—Wh—You didn't tell me he was alive too!"

Oh, that's right. It was strange now, to think that just a few hours earlier he'd been concerned that Michael or someone else in his family might try to send him back to the grave. He supposed he'd been a little paranoid—but you couldn't be too careful when everything you had left was at stake.

"Didn't I?" He'd told himself he wouldn't play any mind games with Michael, but that didn't mean he couldn't fuck with him a little bit here and there.

"No! What—" Michael stopped himself short and shook his head when he noticed David's partially-hidden smirk. "Wow, so this is actually happening. You're all coming back."

"That's the plan," he drawled as he surveyed the ground around his feet for no reason except that he didn't have anything else to do. Well, he supposed he could watch Michael instead… That might be more interesting.

"So…" David lifted his gaze when Michael spoke again. "If you're staying at Max's, then I should probably tell you that Sammy went there before with Mom. He might remember where it is, and I think he's still friends with the Frog brothers…" Michael trailed off and eyed David with thinly-veiled concern. "Could that be a problem?"

David was officially glad that he told Michael their housing plans. He would have to sit on this new information, maybe revise their plan. "Could be. I might have to kill all three of them just to be safe. You understand, right?"

The color drained from Michael's face and David's faux-serious expression cracked. Michael breathed again in relief. "That's not funny."

David rolled his eyes. "Sure it's not." He honestly couldn't care less what Michael's brother knew or who he hung out with. David had never harbored ill intentions toward Michael's family, and if it wasn't for Max, he and his brothers would have left them alone completely.

As for those young slayers, David would have to think on what should happen to them. In the past, they'd been a fun nuisance to watch from afar. So blinded by their need to destroy vampires they couldn't spot a real one if it bit them in the face. They'd never been a real threat—not until…well, that day. And only with Michael's help.

David was suddenly stricken by the thought of history repeating itself. How foolish he would look, how painful it would be, if Michael broke his trust again.

The brunette suddenly asked, "What about Max? He sort of…caught on fire. There's no body left. Are you gonna try to bring him back, or…?"

David tensed. He didn't want to talk about Max. He didn't want to even think about Max, but he knew that was inevitable. Truthfully, Max occupied probably half of all his thoughts, and drained just as much of his energy.

Max would be back, eventually. He didn't have any way of actually knowing that, except for the unmistakable gut feeling that he'd never be able to get away so easily.

"Er, sorry," Michael mumbled after a lack of response. "I didn't know if you were, you know, close or anything…" Michael stabbed the dirt to begin digging again, but his eyes held a question that David was most definitely not going to answer.

It fell quiet for a moment; the only sound between them was that of dirt being tossed onto a rather large mound of even more dirt.

When the shovel scraped something solid, Michael prodded it with the metal tip. It sounded hollow.

David was on his feet in an instant and dropping down into the large hole. He stared down at the thinly-covered coffin, absently aware that Michael was staring at him. "Door number one?" Michael asked rather shyly and hopefully.

David's eyes were slightly widened and overwhelmed when he made eye contact with the flushed human. One of his brothers was in there, just inches below his feet. Dead, but there.

He squeezed his fists, just once, when they felt too light and unsteady. The makeshift coffin was still partially weighed down by layers of dirt, but Michael seemed to be as tired as he was, so he would just have to muster the strength to pull the lid off anyway.

"Watch out."

Michael hoisted himself out of the grave. David brushed off dirt with a gloved hand until he found a corner where nails met wood. The seam was imperfect; the lid was just slightly wider than the base.

Digging himself out of his own coffin, having his first meal in a year, nearly bleeding himself dry to bring Marko back, and now digging up these graves in the same night meant that he was almost completely spent. Almost.

He grabbed onto the edge of the lid and pulled with a force that normally would have been effortless. The wood slowly began to splinter as he strained himself. Eventually it did break, and the rest of the lid followed in uneven chunks.

When he was done, he gazed into the open coffin from a semi-crouched position. His eyes flickered to the old blue sheet that was draped over the body. Strange. Whose idea was that?

Above him, Michael stirred uncomfortably. David partially removed the sheet and immediately felt light-headed. He swayed to the side, reaching out to catch himself on the solid ground that was now at waist height.

He understood the sheet. Paul was nightmarish, his body just a skeletal horror show with exposed tendons and organs. There was something very textbook-like about it that could have been fascinating—after all, none of them had ever shied away from gore—but given whose body it was, it was possibly the most disturbing sight that David had ever laid eyes on.

"Jesus Christ…Hey, are you all right?" Michael crouched to be able to place a hand on David's shoulder.

David leaned away and raised his hand to reject the gesture. "Just get the other one," he said tersely—then rubbed his forehead when he realized that he might have just unintentionally referred to Dwayne as the other one.

It took him a long moment, but Michael eventually went to work again, albeit more slowly this time. He kept glancing over at Paul, and at David.

Paul wasn't even recognizable except for his jacket and jewelry. He always liked to wear those stupid spikes on his wrist. Sometimes he would try to poke Dwayne with them, make him bleed a little. To them, a few spikes were like papercuts that healed within seconds. He only did it to annoy their quietest brother, and to subsequently get on David's nerves. Paul always liked doing that. Whenever David snapped at him—for anything, really—Paul would just laugh like everything in this world entertained him. He had no fear of David, or of any authority. Paul was the only one who would freely hang on David's shoulder in public and make sarcastic, over-the-top facial expressions to the others whenever he felt that David was being especially moody. That being said, Paul was always the first to defend him, physically or otherwise. The tall, disruptive blond would step in the way of a threat with the speed of a pouncing cheetah. As much of a pain in the ass as he could often be, he would have gladly laid down his life for any of them. He had a very selfless nature—a rare trait in a vampire.

Not that any of that mattered, considering he was deader than a hyena's leftover dinner scraps. David had only had a quick glance of the body, but even with his head turned away and his eyes closed, the image still haunted his mind. He felt ill.

He was on the verge of splitting at the seams, but he held himself together with all the strength he could muster—strength that he then expended on opening Dwayne's coffin.

David stood above-ground with Michael, gazing down at the open coffins, unable to look away from the oddly-shaped form in the second one. Dwayne was in pieces. Weirdly fitting, considering how David felt that his relationship with Dwayne was likely damaged beyond repair.

Dwayne had a strong, passionate nature underneath his quiet persona. He was actually very much like David in many ways. They both had introverted qualities, but while David looked for ways to control a situation, Dwayne was content to sit back and take opportunities as they came along. He was patient. Aloof by default, but secretly very opinionated. His comments were a mix of carefully considered statements and wry humor.

He and David seemed to understand each other best when they were shedding blood together. Whenever they tore through their rivals with the kind of ferocity that made rivers run red, Dwayne would look at him with wide eyes filled with admiration, his breathing exaggerated and his body rhythmically tensing and relaxing as if his very being was singing yes.

Dwayne encouraged a more domineering side in David, but the brunette, perhaps paradoxically, never felt inclined to lead anyone. He never threatened David's leadership—only needed reassurance that he was better off with his brothers than on his own. Or perhaps he just wanted to make sure their leader didn't falter.

David would say that he had faltered, but that was a gross understatement. He'd tripped on his own sword and stabbed himself in the eye.

Seeing Paul and Dwayne like this, he felt like his world was tearing once more. He had to get his shit together.

"What now?" Michael asked after what felt like an eternity, turning his head to watch David.

"Go home. I'll take care of the rest."

Michael's brows pinched. "Are you sure?"

He tilted his head to look at Michael then, directly into those steel blue eyes, and placed his hand on the taller man's shoulder. He could feel Michael's warmth through his glove, could practically feel the blood humming in his veins. Michael's eyes darted to the cool hand, then back to David's steady gaze. "Thank you, Michael."

Michael's expression went very soft. David allowed his eyes to briefly glance over the features of the brunette's face, from his sad, regretful eyes, to his flushed cheeks, to his slightly parted lips. Michael was going to say something. David didn't want him to.

"Go home," he repeated. The corner of his mouth quirked. "Tell your brother I said hi."

Michael snorted, rocking away from David a bit as if to break himself away from whatever moment he'd been having. "Yeah, sure." He half-turned as if to leave, but hesitated. "I'll see you around?"

David came close to a genuine smile, but it still held remnants of a smirk. "We'll catch up sometime."

Michael left with his hands in his pockets, glancing over his shoulder only once before he was completely out of sight. The small smile vanished from David's face. He cast his face to the dark sky and closed his eyes, listening for Michael's footsteps to disappear.

He breathed, tight and shaky, as his eyes drifted to Dwayne's dismembered body. A familiar coldness gripped his spine.

Calling on Marko had always been as simple as breathing. David only needed to want, and his brother would respond. In his mind, he imagined finding a taut, bright yellow string down the middle of an endless hallway with no walls or ceiling. He ghosted his fingers along the thread just as he'd always done.

For the first time since Max made him and Marko a pair, David felt overwhelmingly alone and lost in that dark corridor. He sucked in a sharp breath and brought himself back to reality, in the woods near Michael's house, standing above the remnants of last year's carnage. The feeling lingered.

Marko's unceremonious landing snapped David out of his strange thoughts. "You rang, Sally?"

The familiar presence was such an overwhelming relief that he almost buckled at the knees from exhaustion. Nonetheless, he avoided eye contact, preferring to focus on the soft dirt at the foot of Dwayne's grave. "Come here, will you."

Marko tilted his head but skipped over. "I don't suppose Michael's in there?"

Don't sound so hopeful, David almost mumbled, but he held his tongue because this was no joking matter. Marko seized up when he found his place beside David and saw for himself what his brother had been up to.

"They were almost torched," David supplied, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to say. He half-expected that this would be the beginning of the end, so to speak—that Marko would never be able to look at David the same way again, now that he knew the gravity of what had taken place last summer. It was David who led them into that house, after all. "Michael buried them."

Marko's snort was quiet, and so misplaced that David's eyes snapped towards him. "What."

For some reason that forced a louder snicker out of the younger vampire, which he failed to stifle with his sleeve. David frowned, utterly confused. Marko pursed his lips to contain his laughter, and when he met David's eyes, some of his amusement seemed to die off. "Sorry, but you're not really 'with it' tonight," Marko spouted off, making an insulting gesture by his head.

David's eyes narrowed. "Forgive me for having a long fucking day."

There was a myriad of conflicting emotions that crossed Marko's face before he was back to that knowing smile of his. "All I'm saying is of course it was Michael. Everything is because of him." David breathed in to protest that, even though he knew Marko was being intentionally enticing at this point. "Sweet, sweet Michael…"

"Stop."

"So humane, so human—eugh."

"Can we please focus?"

Marko hummed. "Right." He walked the perimeter of the grave until he was standing on the opposite side, studying their brothers' corpses like he wasn't even a little bit disturbed. They did lead a morbid lifestyle, but something was amiss here. "Too many parts," he said, pointedly looking at Dwayne's pieces. "We might drop something." If his point wasn't clear enough, he mimed trying to awkwardly fit all of Dwayne's body parts in his arms.

Surely he was pretending to be unaffected…or maybe David had been so worked up over all of Marko's possible reactions that he couldn't accept that maybe Marko…didn't care?

David leaned over, hands on his knees. Every minute he felt closer to splitting open at the seams. He distracted himself by looking into Paul's casket. "You're gonna be so fucking disgusting to move." Sorry, pal.

There was a moment of silence before Marko beat him to it. "Wheelbarrow?"

They locked eyes.

They were going to need so much goddamn family therapy after this.