Author's notes: Look, if you've been following this long, you know what I'm about to say. David. Michael. Bad stuff. Not much, but still. I almost think I don't need to warn you anymore. Clearly it's bound to happen sooner or later in these stories.

Sam pressed shaking hands to the slick stone walls of the cavern, nails scraping up green bits of algae, as he climbed forward into the rising water. If he survived this, he had no doubt he'd catch pneumonia, as cold as he was by now. Shane and the others were sleeping in a peaceful heap, an inch-deep in water, dead to the world and the goings-on about them. And with the breaking of dawn, Sam was coming back to himself a little. Not enough to consider himself good as new, though; he still wanted to eat bugs and small animals, still wanted to call Shane master and lick his shoes...but the compulsion was weaker. Easier to push aside. Grandpa had said it would be a couple of weeks before the blood was flushed from his system, and he was just barely coming up on the halfway point soon. If he had to spend the whole time huddled in a stinking cavern, unable to make it to shore without the risk of being drug out by the tide, Sam wasn't so sure he'd be able to make it. And there was nothing particularly special about him to drive Shane to even care about his physical health. So he doubted his situation would improve much, if this somehow became a permanent lifestyle.

And what about the Frog brothers? Were they still back at the observatory? Were they out looking for him right now? Sam licked salt-cracked lips as his feet searched for stable footing on the sharp rocks below, continuing to edge his way along the wall of the cavern. Each step propelled him a little further into the light, and a little further away from the sleeping bloodsuckers. He was tired. He was hungry. He was cold. This really sucked...

"C'mon, Sam...you gotta do this..." he whispered to himself, just knowing his mom was probably tearing her her out right now worried about where the hell he'd gone. She'd already lost Mike. She didn't need to go through this again. That was the thought that anchored him, as the journey through the cavern grew more and more difficult with the rising water brushing up against his jeans, and the unidentified swimming creatures below became better acquainted with his ankles.

He had to think of something else. Something to keep himself distracted. A song...what song? An image flashed in his mind, the first thing he thought of...a floating cartoon bottle. Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to focus on the 'I Dream of Jeannie' theme song, something so far-removed from his current situation, he couldn't help but laugh weakly as he tried to hum the tune to himself. Yeah, he had a lot to deal with right now, but at least he didn't have to wear a pink costume like Barbara Eden on top of all the other bullshit Shane expected him to do. Speaking of which, he'd probably be mad when he woke up and not only found Sam gone (hopefully), but realized he had not in fact done any of the dry-cleaning.

"Ya gotta get outta here," Sam sighed, when it was finally bright enough to see his surroundings. He'd gotten surprisingly far. Maybe this wouldn't be too hard, after all! Steeling himself, he began to hum the tune even louder, pushing his way further along the cavern wall. It took ages. But...finally...he reached open sunlight, with the water having reached his chest. Turning his head about, Sam used one hand to shield his eyes from the harsh glow of the afternoon sun. He was...too tired to swim. Too skinny to float. And he couldn't see shore...his prune-y fingers were cut to ribbons by now just with trying to cling to the wall despite the rising tide trying to thrash him about. It would...be so easy to fall asleep. It was really tempting, too. The combination of Shane's blood and the fact that he hadn't gotten a chance to rest in over twenty-four hours now...they really were fighting against him. But did he really want to take his chances with the vampires back in that cavern? Somehow he doubted the Tommy guy, who almost seemed to be on his side (enemy of my enemy and all), would be able to do much to help protect him if one of them got too hungry to wait until they went hunting, when they could simply chow down on Sam and make another Renfield later.

Sam stopped humming and snorted to himself, closing his eyes and pressing his cheek against the cool cavern wall, pulling himself along the exit and kicking his legs in the water as the tide tried to carry him, he didn't know whether mentioning the fact that his brother was one of the Lost Boys would save him or not, but it wasn't worth taking the risk. Unconsciously, he kept his fingers stubbornly gripping the rocky wall, and pushed further. Kept going, inch by inch, despite his failing strength and consciousness, until somehow...somehow his feet found ground...and his legs melted beneath him. Just outside the cavern, there was a small mound of chipped rock, high enough above the water to keep him from floating away. Sam took a deep breath and collapsed on it, hoping the sun would keep him warm long enough to recover before he could hopefully try again. He just needed to rest. Just a bit...

What he wouldn't give for a Jeannie right now. Sam's dreams were riddled with images of pink harem pants and 60s music, interspersed with bizarre nightmares about surfing vampires, and grandpa yelling about his tv guide while the Frog brothers fought about poppy seeds. It was a very strange sleep.

David awoke pressed surprisingly close to Michael. Whether he had been the one to initiate it, or his mate, he couldn't really tell. But here they were, and it would be a good ten minutes or so before the brunette could rouse himself. Time enough two do one of two things: he could watch Michael sleep, or...he could have a little bit of fun. The decision wasn't a difficult one.

Nearby, the others began to stretch, save for Star, still as insensate to the world as Michael.

"Hey, princess, get me some cigarettes," David called down to Paul as the wild-haired vampire touched feet to ground. Paul tossed his head back and glared up at him.

"I didn't make the bet with you, David!" He snapped back.

David quirked an eyebrow, "who said anything about a bet? Get me some fucking cigarettes."

Paul snarled, taking flight from their sleeping quarter wordlessly. Unlike Michael, he wasn't inclined to start fist fights first thing when they woke up, and he was smart enough not to pick one with David. Decades of experience had taught him that was a bad idea.

"Hey, wait up! I got a grocery list for ya!" Marko mentally crowed after him, quickly following.

Dwayne watched them leave, then glanced back up at David with an amused smirk, "I'm gonna go check on the meat bags. You want anything else?" He asked.

David just shook his head, dismissing Dwayne with a wave and pressing closer to Michael, a soft growl emanating from his chest. He didn't want to spend these last precious minutes chatting, when there was something much more entertaining on his mind than cigarettes or bitch bets. The irony of having Star sleeping not more than ten feet away from them didn't escape him. It only made this that much more amusing. When with one cool hand, David reached up to unzip Michael's jeans and quickly slip beneath the confines therein, the brunette stirred and shifted against him, unconsciously pressing closer, but otherwise did not react. Though one part of him certainly did. This would be so very...sweet.

Working deft fingers, lightly at some points and much firmer at others, David snickered to himself when he pondered whether or not he would have been a great pianist, if his life had taken a different turn. Judging by the soft groans pressed into his neck, he didn't doubt Michael would agree. He didn't even need to force the boy's fangs to descend to nick his skin, or a soft tongue to glide across his neck with the same delicious rhythm with which David's fingers played on his member.

And just when it seemed he'd almost been driven to completion, David quickly retrieved his hand and zipped Michael's jeans back up, swinging down from the perch and disappearing with a small chuckle. As much as he might have enjoyed finishing what he started, it was far more amusing to leave his fledgling to wake a little bit more frustrated, and a little bit closer to an edge he didn't quite want to meet. A push here and there, and eventually Michael might even think he had a choice in the matter.

Michael finally awoke with the taste of pennies on his tongue. It wasn't unpleasant. His eyes were then immediately drawn upwards to a very obvious bulge in his jeans, and he gave a frustrated huff. It seemed like there were some things he couldn't escape, even in death. He tried to ignore the scent of David lingering on his clothes.

This had been worse than the weekend their parents left without a word, the pantries and fridge completely bare. Worse than when they'd been faced with the grimacing face of the half-vampire midget. Worse than...well, anything. Edgar and Alan had spent an absolutely miserable day in a cave they'd hoped to never return to, fitfully sleeping as best they could for ten minutes at a time, only to find themselves roused by the smallest sound of wind whispering through beaded curtains, bits of sand and rock settling on lobby walls, and the much more terrifying sound of the hellhound stirring and growling from his perch on the canopied bed. Thorne never took his dark eyes off of them, even barely able to crawl, still intent on guarding his master and pack.

They were both too emotionally exhausted to react when the vampires slowly filtered into the lobby. First, the Twisted Sister lookalike. Then the little one...how either of them had thought he'd be the best one to stake first, Alan couldn't quite understand. He was a crony, if ever there was one. And as if he'd voiced this opinion aloud, the short vampire gave him a quick glare, before re-directing his attention back at the other one, and wordlessly slinging an arm over his shoulder. They didn't speak. But...something seemed to be happening behind their eyes and lips, so...

Was the comic right? Could they read minds? Alan's lips twitched, and he shifted on the ground. He didn't know whether or not they'd even give him a straight answer if he asked, given the fact that he and his brother were even still alive was already more than any of the Lost Boys really wanted to allow. What was worse? Spending another day tied up like this, or rushing forward to Friday night, where they would both likely be torn to shreds by fishy shark-eyed bloodsuckers? He knew it was too much to hope their cousin would be of much use, given the fact that he'd been ready to skip town the last time they'd seen him before he got carried off by Shane to some unknown destination.

The dark-haired vampire, the one who'd been sniped on the Emerson's stereo, focused sharp eyes on them both, striding towards the Frog brothers and kneeling in front of them.

Alan gulped, pressing his back up against his brother and trying not to flinch away.

Cousin?" Dwayne thought curiously, glancing over at David as he fluttered into the lobby and landed smoothly on the ground just feet away from his 'throne'.

"What?" David glanced back over at him, and then Marko and Paul...who, for the moment, seemed just as fascinated by the Frog brothers now as Dwayne. "Did I miss something?"

"Oh, man...we need popcorn. Paulie, get some popcorn too," Marko cackled aloud, biting the thumb of his glove. Even more wildly amused when Edgar whimpered in fear at the sound. Paul just rolled his eyes, stalking towards the lobby exit.

"Anything else while I'm out? Diapers? A thermometer? Prune juice? Condoms?"

"...Dude, what kinda night do you think we're planning here?" Marko shook his head, "nobody's going to need any prune juice."

Edgar and Alan blanched, both believing without a doubt that only the most sinister plot could be in store for them both.