He'd been watching her sleep for a week. The knowledge it was a disturbing thing to do itched at the back of his brain, but Dwayne had done so many disturbing things over the years this felt trivial. She'd appeared out of nowhere, the way the vagrants and runaways always did, a bed made up past the high tide line up against the wind break of the boardwalk, a knife in her hand whenever she closed her eyes. Usually he spotted girls like her and felt the way he imagined a hawk did when it saw the rabbit. Dinner. If not today, then tomorrow or next week. The sweetness of the chase, the feel of the blood in your mouth. The rush. You learned to look out for the ones that had poison running through their veins, to avoid them. Addicts gave him a headache. She wasn't that. That he knew. She wasn't an addict. She wasn't dinner. He couldn't tell what she was.

"You want a pet?" David had perched on the wall next to him and Dwayne shrugged. Feelings weren't a thing he talked about. Not with anyone. Certainly not with David. "Take her if you do," David said, "but we're going."

It was half an order, but only half, so he folded his arms and let the others leave. He'd killed three people who'd approached her at night so far. It happened, he knew. You could fixate on things, fixate on people. Eternity was long and you didn't stop feeling things or wanting things just because you became a thing yourself. It just hadn't happened to him before. Even when he'd been human he'd never wanted like this. He'd say it felt unnatural, but when you stopped aging the concept of what was natural and what wasn't became far more flexible. The world had more in it than even the poets knew. Far more.

He should know. He was one of those mysteries.

She turned on the sand, uncomfortable. Maybe she could sense the predator hovering just out of sight. People did. No matter how much civilization tried to numb the senses, the hind brain knew when it was being hunted. He pushed himself up off the wall and into the air. Away from the heat rising off the concrete and the sand it got cold. Funny how you could still feel cold when you were dead.

Maybe tomorrow night he'd take her. An offer of a meal, hands spread and a story that he'd been on the run too, he knew what it was like. No funny business, no obligations. Just some take out Chinese around a fire. It would probably work. He wouldn't even have to lie because he'd been there, alone and lost and angry and ready to be turned. He could lure her with truth and then slip her some blood and she'd be stuck the way he'd been. Not that he minded now. Not that he'd ever minded.

It was good to be a vampire.

With that thought in mind he turned to where his brothers had gone and moved to join them. He'd worry about the girl later.

Later turned out to be an hour later.

It was Marko who told him. He'd come back to their lair with beer that he'd either stolen or purchased with money he'd stolen and said as he tossed the bottle over, "The cops picked up that piece you've been staring at."

Dwayne looked at him, unsmiling, and Marko grinned and took a long swallow before he explained. "Rounded up a bunch of people off the beach for vagrancy," he said. "They were herding them into the station when I went by. Part of the current clean up the town project, I suppose."

Dwayne took a long swallow and didn't say anything. They usually let the vagrants go after a night in a cell. It was uncomfortable, but no less safe than the sand most of the time and sometimes even came with a free meal. Paul must've read his mind because he said, his voice completely neutral, "They've been putting people on buses with one-way tickets out of town."

Dwayne set the beer down. He could see David put his tongue between his teeth as he regarded him, and then David said, "Well, shall we go get her?"

Bare was the back without brother. Wasn't that the saying? He stood and David smiled and then they were out and on their way.

"You gonna turn her?" Marko asked as they loped their way up the sidewalk to the police station.

"Bet he doesn't even tell her," Paul said.

"Because that went so well last time," Marko said.

David stopped in his tracks and turned to look back at the pair of them. Marko held his hands up in a false gesture of surrender and, after a long look, David turned, pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it as they kept walking. The blue and green neon of the precinct station's sign flickered as they passed under it and the pretty blonde receptionist half stood as they entered.

"Didn't you see the warning?" she asked in the sort of nagging voice she probably used when she demanded to speak to a manager because the craft store was out of the glue they'd listed in the sales flier. "There's no smoking in here."

Dwayne looked back at the door and, sure enough, there was the ubiquitous sticker: a cigarette in a red circle with a line through it. David inhaled deeply on the forbidden cigarette and then leaned toward the receptionist. He blew a long stream of smoke into her face then ground the cigarette out on her desk. "I'm sorry," he said with a smile that bared his teeth. "My mistake."

"Can I help you?" she asked with outrage she had to suppress. Humans always wanted to kill them.

The group of homeless people the police had rounded up still stood in a cluster, arms wrapped around themselves, clutching precious backpacks. David waved a hand over in the direction of the group. "I'm here to get my sister," he said. "Take her off your hands."

One of the on-duty officers wandered over. He looked them up and down with the kind of slow, assessment that judged them and found them wanting. Hoodlums. Trouble. He put his hands on his hips, one resting on the nightstick he surely wanted an excuse to use. "You have a sister?" he asked.

"So his mother claimed," Marko said.

David pointed at the girl. She'd been staring at them since they came in, but most of the entire group had so that didn't make her stand out. He snapped his fingers and jerked his head toward them in a silent command and she extricated herself and came across the room, sullen, silent, and perfectly willing to grasp at any excuse to get out of this place.

"Sis," David said with a tilt of his head. He reached a hand out to grab her arm and she neatly dodged under it and ran straight into Dwayne instead. The same shock that hit him whenever he looked at her thrummed along his skin. She sucked in her own breath and he thought she might feel it too, but she didn't say anything. She just let him loop one arm around her shoulders and all five of them looked at the cop. He could feel her shirt against his chest, could feel warmth seeping through the thin fabric. She shivered and he tightened his grip.

"Can we go?" David asked.

Dwayne could see the cop wanted to ask for proof, wanted to thwart them, wanted to do anything that made their lives more difficult. "How do I know your intentions ain't vile?" he asked.

"He's a shit hole, but he's my brother all right," the girl said.

That was as good a definition of David as Dwayne had ever heard.

"What's her name?" the cop asked.

"Cassiopeia," Dwayne said.

The cop looked at her. "I don't carry ID," she said. "You want them to go ask mom for a birth certificate or something? She probably burned it on accident while looking for drugs."

"Just go," the cop said. His mouth curled with disgust at the girl, at the boys who'd come for her, at the whole lot of degenerates and druggies that filled his town. "And don't let me catch you sleeping on the beach again, Cassie."

Marko gave a little two fingered salute, David puckered up his lips at the receptionist and blew her a kiss, and they turned and left. They were two blocks away before she said, bravado transparent, "Who are you? I don't hook, so if that's what you – "

"Want dinner?" David asked before she could go on. "I do believe Marko was just about to get takeout."

She flicked a nervous glance at Marko who shrugged. "Indian?" he asked.

"Always a good choice," David said.

"What's your name?" Paul asked.

Dwayne could feel her turn to look at him but he kept his face impassive. He'd loosened his grip on her enough she could walk but he was ready to grab at her if she fled, rabbit that she was. Or maybe not wholly a rabbit because she said, half-defensively, "Cassiopeia, didn't you say? Cassie. Cass."

"Look, Dwayne named his pet," David said. "Isn't that the sweetest?"

"Leave her alone," Dwayne said when she stiffened and David laughed. It was the genuinely amused laugh, though, not the one that tended to presage mayhem.

"She needs a bath," David said. "Handle that, would you?" and then he was gone, up into the darkness and it was Paul's turn to laugh at the horror on her face.

"Don't worry, Dwayne's new friend," he said. "There's hot water springs where we're going, and Star left enough clothes for a dozen girls, and none of us have vile intentions." He twisted the words into an exaggerated mockery of the cop's accusation and mugged a recoil broad enough to trick a laugh out of her before he, too, shot up and away and Dwayne was left alone with her. She stopped walking.

"What are they?" she asked. She seemed calm – too calm – and he knew that had to be covering the kind of shaking hysterics that drew the eyes of passers-by. People didn't fly. People also didn't tend to come and bail strangers out of trouble, not without wanting something. She was probably more worried about that than their disappearances into the night air.

"They just move quickly," he said. "Assholes."

She took a deep breath and then splayed one hand against his skin. He closed his eyes at the shock of it. It was worse, better, stronger than a touch through fabric. It was addictive. "What is this?" she asked and he knew she felt it too. That was why she hadn't run the moment they were clear of the police station. It was why she wasn't running now, despite the way her hand was shaking.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Something." He didn't want to talk about it. "Dinner?"

"It's like two in the morning," she said.

"And you're hungry."

"I meant, where will you get food?"

Oh. That. "Taste of India is always open," he said.

"Because they sell x."

"Also samosas."

Marko wasn't back yet with those samosas when they got to the cave. He had to let her go to make his way down into their lair and she inhaled before following him down into the darkness. "There's a hot water spring," he said, pointing. If he didn't send her there now, when the physical contact had been broken, he might not be able to break it again.

"For that bath," she said, then added defensively, "It's hard when you live on the beach."

"I know," he said. He'd lived on city streets, worse, he suspected, then this beach. He'd also already looked threatening enough people had mostly let him be.

Mostly.

He remembered how hard it had been.

"There's towels down there," he said. He didn't know how clean they were.

"Clothes?" she asked.

Star's old stuff was still shoved in the boxes she'd used before she'd disappeared after the Michael disaster. He tipped his head toward the pile and the girl – Cass – gave him a suspicious look before squatting down and opening up the first one. "Who was Star?" she asked as she pulled shawls and skirts and tops out one at a time. "He said her name was Star, right?"

"A girl who used to live here," he said.

"She dead?"

Always a good question about Star.

"Don't think so," he settled on. It must have been reassuring enough because she took a handful of the non-dead woman's clothes and picked her way back to where the spring was, around a corner, out of sight. He almost sagged when he couldn't see her anymore, a puppet with its strings cut. He sat, unmoving, and watched where she'd gone until Marko came in behind him tossed the paper container of samosas at him without so much as a word. Dwayne leveled a long, slow look at his brother. If his reflexes had been slower, if that box had hit him on the head, he'd have been furious.

"Don't think this is what you're hungry for," Marko said, ignoring the threat. His assessment was true enough. The idea of human food turned his stomach most days. Beer, bourbon, and blood were more his speed. Marko's too, for that matter.

"It'll do," he said. He set it down and linked his fingers behind his head, eyes steady on the corner Cass had turned. How long did it take women to bathe? He hated not being able to feel her now that she was out of sight.

"I had a bite behind the shop," Marko said, trying to watch him without being too obvious. "Worked out for me."

"I want to feed." That was Paul, one step behind Marko as usual. He settled down on one of the worn chairs and kicked his feet up. "Rescuing strays gives me an appetite."

"I want her to feed." David so rarely brought up the rear Dwayne had to wonder how long he'd been squatting in the shadows, watching them all. Since he'd arrived, probably. "Remember Max?"

"Hard to forget," Marko said. He made a whooshing noise, mimicking the fire that had roared to life around the vampire. "Oh Lucy. I love you so much, Lucy." He grabbed at his throat and pretended to die with as much drama and agony as he could fake. He'd missed his calling in the theater and Dwayne allowed a small smile to appear.

"Dying for love," Paul said with a twist of his mouth. "Not my thing."

"Mine either," David said. "This like that?"

"It won't be," Dwayne said.

"Good," he said. He handed the blood bottle to Dwayne. "She drinks or she goes."

Dwayne took it and nodded. That going would involve her death went without saying. They cleaned up their messes these days. She picked that moment to reappear, and Paul let out a low whistle. Their waif cleaned up well. Dwayne hadn't even realized Star had had jeans in her motley collection of scarves and skirts, but Cass had managed to find a pair. Paired with her own boots and one of Star's halters she looked…

She looked good enough to eat.

He'd kill anyone who tried.

She had a dirty hand towel she was still using to blot water out of her hair and he pointed to the ground in front of him in a silent order that made her scowl, but when Marko grinned in a way that showed a hint of fangs she shivered and picked her way through their cluttered junk and sat down. He might be an autocratic bastard, but he was still safety in a room filled with threats. They still had this thing between them. He handed her the container of samosas. "Eat," he said.

"Anyone else want some?" she asked, her fingers hesitating on lid.

"I already had something," Marko said.

"I'll grab a bite later," Paul added.

Dwayne took the towel and took over drying her hair as she pried open the package and picked out the first one and took a bite. She held herself stiffly between his feet as he worked his way through her hair with the sort of slow patience eternity could give you. Paul tossed him a comb and, as she ate the second trying not to look too starving or too grateful, he began to pick his way through the wet locks.

"As fun as this is," Marko said, "The night isn't over. I'm gone."

David stood and Dwayne met his eyes. A silent nod of acquiescence and David followed Marko away, a sharp gesture telling Paul to follow. There were half orders, and there were orders, and getting her to drink was the latter. Dwayne wouldn't have been able to disobey that any more than he'd have been able to slit his own throat.

"Cass," he said once they were gone. "You okay?"

"I'm not in jail," she said. "It'll do."

He took a breath, closed his eyes, and let what he was show on his face. The real him? A mask? They were all Janus, with both faces equally real and equally false. "Cass," he said again and she turned. He could hear her suck in her breath, could feel the loss when she scrambled away, dinner forgotten, not willing to lean up against his leg any longer. He opened his eyes. She'd flattened herself against the far wall. It was a bad strategic choice. It left him between her and the only exit you could reach without flying. Maybe she thought she could flee out through the back but the cave just got smaller and lower until you were trapped in darkness and dirt.

"Am I dinner?" she asked. Her voice was remarkably calm and she'd pulled out the knife she slept with and was holding it toward him. "Is that the plan?"

"Vampires," he said. David had said the litany to him. He'd heard him say it to Star, to Michael, to Marko. He'd never uttered it himself. The words had the cadence of a prayer or a promise. They were the ties that bound. "You'll never grow old. Never die."

"What's the price?" she asked.

It wasn't the response he'd expected, which was funny because that was almost word for word what he'd said to David all those years ago. What's the catch? he'd asked. Nothing came free in this world. He was bound to David in ways none of them quite understood, ways none of them questioned. She would be too. "You can't quit it," he said.

"How?" she asked.

He picked up the bottle and held it out to her. "Drink," he said. This is my blood you drink, went the liturgy if he remembered right. Church wasn't a place he could go anymore.

She lowered the knife and took a few steps toward him and he softened his features back into human, back into the sort of thing people trusted. "Do we lose our souls?" she asked.

"Do we have them?"

Another few steps.

"The church my mother took me to said so."

He shrugged. Theology said a lot of things. So far none of them had proved true but holy water did burn so maybe the priests were right and he was wrong.

Another step. "Of course, they also told me to go back home when I told them -." She stopped.

"Told them what?"

"Doesn't matter."

He was quite sure it did.

She took the bottle. "Whose is it?"

Another question he hadn't anticipated. "David's," he said.

"Why?"

"He's the -."

"Leader, right." She raised it in a salute toward the shadows. "May we be gathered into one," she said, then tipped it back and drank.

The others must have stayed present but out of sight because as soon as she swallowed he heard a hooting of delight and Marko swung back into the room, clapping.

"Sister," David said, a slightly more sincere echo of what he'd said earlier. He took the bottle out of her hand and took a swallow of his own before handing it over to Paul, who tipped it into his mouth. "Take this, all of you, and drink from it," David said. "This is the blood of our everlasting covenant."

"One of us," Paul said and wiped his mouth before handing the bottle to Marko.

"One of us," he said, raising it to her in a delighted salute. "Shit load better than last time."

"One of us," Dwayne said as he took his drink, his eyes never leaving her face, and handed the bottle back to David. He reached his hand out and she took it and that energy sparked again and he tightened his grip so much she flinched.

"Try not to break her the first night," David said.

"New blood," Marko said, almost vibrating. "Let's go."

The urge to go, to move, to let off steam pushed at Dwayne too. Letting someone in was kinetic. It made you wild. It made you want to throw yourself into the air and the sea and feel again what made you better, what made you more real, more alive, more present than the shadows that walked through this world and thought they lived. They'd done it before just to feel this, just to know they could, then watched the halfling not keep up. Most couldn't. Most didn't want to. Drinking from a bottle was one thing. Sinking your teeth into a person was another. Feeling them die under you… he loved it. He wanted to grab some witless tourist now and watch her fear grow. He wanted to play with her. Chase her through the wood and let he think she was getting away only to turn and see Marko or Paul in front of her, only to come up behind her, only for David to float down in front of her and say, "Boo." Such a mild word for the response it could get and then they'd feast.

He'd heard once that hunters tried not to shoot the running deer. That the adrenaline made the meat tougher, courser. He thought the opposite. The blood was sweeter when they died begging, when they died terrified.

He stood, ready to go, to run, to feed.

Then Cassiopeia yawned.

He stopped and she put a hand over her mouth but he could see her yawn again. "Tomorrow night," he said.

"I'm going now," Paul said.

"She joins us tomorrow," David said. It wasn't a question and Dwayne nodded. That was always the real test and, in his way, David was being kind. If you're going to have to kill her, get it over with before you're too attached.

She wasn't the first who'd taken the bottle easily enough.

She was the first who'd been his.

"Go," he said. They did, Marko looking back with a vulgar thrust of his tongue in his cheek.

She wobbled on her feet and he grabbed at her. "Long night," she said in what was probably meant as an apology. He just pulled her onto the bed that had been Star's. They'd never bothered to throw away her drapey faux-gypsy bullshit and he yanked at the scarves now with annoyance only to find she'd tied them up with surprising skill. They hung in his face and smelled of dust and the last faded notes of perfume. If he'd loved, or even liked, the woman who'd left them that scent would have made him melancholy. As it was, it just made him wrap the fabric around his fist and pull with enough force to bring it down, along with crumbled mortar and a root.

"Take your boots off," he said.

"I haven't slept with boots off in… in a while," she said. "Safer."

"You're safe here."

She made a rude noise but began to unlace the first boot. He watched her fingers pull the knot loose, then shift the leather ties out so she could loosen it. "I'm in bed with a vampire," she said. "I think that's the opposite of safe."

That didn't stop her from taking her shoes off and curling into a tight ball on the old mattress. He wrapped himself around her from behind and felt her wet hair against his face. It could have been a kiss or a missive from hell. If Star had been dust and rosewater, this one was sulfur from the spring and so much fear. Her heart beat too quickly and he could feel it thudding along his own veins into his own heart. He could taste the way her emotions filtered through her skin and into the air. He'd smelled that often enough on victims: delectable on them, hateful on her. He set a hand along her bare arm and she shivered but calmed and when she rolled and lay her cheek against his chest he tucked himself around her until her breathing steadied and she fell into the real sleep humans had. She was still asleep with the others returned, still asleep when the sun rose and he disappeared into the void of his own rest, sheltered by the cave, sheltering her.

Tomorrow would be another night.

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N – CONTENT WARNING: Story contains veiled references to childhood sexual assault. Nothing is graphic and the perp will get what he deserves, but the content is there.

Thank you to breenieweenie for alpha reading this. Her enthusiasm propelled the creation of this along at a breathtaking speed.

Lost Boys was probably one of my first fandoms, before I knew the meaning of the word. I have a ring from the carousel in the movie in my jewelry box, removed from the premises when I was a teenager despite signs on the walls saying NOT to steal the brass rings. I have no regrets. Returning to this world to write in it is… rather glorious.

To clarify the AU nature of this world: Max is dead, the boys all lived, Star and Laddie took off for parts unknown.