Author's note: Somewhat inspired by the awful sequels, following the lines of the alternate endings in Lost Boys 2. Also, your traditional 'I own the rights to nothing but the products of my sick imagination, and claim no authority over Lost Boys OR Gatorade'. Also, if you don't want to do the math, this is about 8 years after the events in the first film. Final note, this one is a solo story of my own.

1995, somewhere north of Dallas.

"Hey mom, grandpa. I know I got your answering machine, but I just wanted to let you guys know I'm swinging by for a visit. Yeah, I know it's short notice. I don't have much change left right now, but I'll be there as soon as I can manage. Listen, I'm gonna need to talk to Mike, too...and guys...please don't freak out. I've got some bad news-.." Sam pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of a revving engine, "can't talk much longer. I'll be there when I can. Love you." He hung up the phone with a quick jerking motion and tore back towards his car, eyes darting around in a panic. It'd be a pretty nasty scene if they caught up with him.

Michael scratched the back of his neck, leaning against the wall when Lucy rewound the tape for the hundredth time that evening to play it again.

"He probably just lost his job. It's probably not a big deal," he told her as he brought his black water bottle to his lips and squeezed. Sam always managed to take the smallest things and exaggerate them just enough to drive mom up the wall, right before coming clean. Rarely did they ever amount to much more than maybe a broken window at worst, and a lost report back in high school at best.

"Michael, he's calling from a payphone. If it wasn't a big deal, he'd have used his house phone first," Lucy rubbed at her temple, pressing stop on the answering machine and pacing back to the kitchen counter, eyeing the window nervously as she drew down the shades and strung up her rosary over the corner of the curtain rod.

He shrugged as he took a seat at the kitchen table and set his water bottle down, just when the old man lumbered in through the door, half-finished root beer in hand. With one quick look at his eldest grandson, Grandpa Emerson looked back over at Lucy, "got the room cleaned out for him. Moved the magazines out to the garage. Bet he'll be happy to see all the new friends he's got waiting in there for him," he chuckled. After Sam had come clean and told him just how he felt about those little beasties, grandpa had started making them twice as gruesome just for a laugh.

Michael grimaced, "you really know how to make a guest feel welcome, grandpa."

"Got your new batch of 'gatorade' ready in the workshop," the old man told Michael with a curl of his lip, "if you're gonna give me lip, though, could dump it in the back garden."

"Dad," Lucy scolded, then glanced back towards Michael with a weak smile as she crossed from the kitchen counter to lean down and give him a quick peck on the forehead. "Star called again today, sweetheart. What do you want me to say?"

He rolled his eyes and got up to follow his grandpa into the workshop, "same thing you always do, I guess. Nothing's changed." Michael reached back to the kitchen table and snatched up his water bottle, taking another swig from it and leaving the room. He didn't want to resent her, because he still cared about Star. Really, he wanted to be glad how different things had seemed to turn out for her and Laddie, but there was a part of him that frankly didn't. What sucked the most was the fact that he still didn't even know why.

It was the middle of the day, as he pulled into the driveway. When he saw that carved monstrosity in the front lawn, and heard the telltale sounds of wind chimes, Sam knew he was finally home. It had taken a lot longer than he'd planned, but he really had no idea how tired he'd be during the day. Maybe he shouldn't have underestimated his brother as much as he had over the years. Well, better late than never, he supposed. Sam shielded his mouth with a yawn and slipped on his shades. Then he reached over to his glove compartment and popped it open to grab a bottle of sunscreen, slathering one extra coat over his arms, neck, and face. Maybe he was stalling for time, but he was still trying to get his head together even now.

Climbing out of his junk heap for a car he'd gotten back in his senior year from their dad as a hand-me-down graduation gift, Sam slowly made his way towards the porch. Would gramps be able to tell? Would Mike? Mom? He felt like it was plastered on his face, as he wrung his hands together nervously.

Maybe this was a bad idea...maybe he should've just gone to Luna Bay instead, broke the news to Ed first. Then again, he still wasn't sure whether or not that would lead to a pointless fight wherein Ed would either turn him into a science project, or he'd inadvertently make the same dumb choice Alan had a few days-...Sam shook himself from that train of thought, raising a hand to bang on the front door several times. He didn't want to think about the Frog brothers right now. He'd worry about those respective little problems later.

The first person to greet him was not, in fact, a person at all, but a very old husky lumbering around the side of the house as fast as his paws could carry him, leaving behind a trail of suds and a very distressed-looking Lucy as she tried to yank and drag the water hose behind her. Sam opened his arms wide with a grin to greet the pair, only to immediately find himself tackled to the ground as Nanook dove in for the attack.

"Sam! Nanook!" Lucy shouted, dropping the hose to let it spray over her sandals, and plaster wet grass on her feet. She took off towards them as fast as she could, while Sam was still dealing with the husky's merciless onslaught...