Author's notes: Well, here we are. The final chapter. I had fun with this story. Always do. I may have another story in the works right now, but it's a Charley/Jerry fic. Probably. The original Fright Night. Haven't decided when I'll start posting bits of it, but it'll happen. Also, as always, there's a concept I've got for a sequel to this fic, but I'm not sure when I may get to it. Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the story. :)

Michael lounged on the couch, one leg claiming half of it for himself and the other lazily cast over the side. Quiet night. They didn't have too many of those these days. He was doing his best to enjoy it and focus on flipping through an only moderately blood-stained car mag. Not too interesting, but the best he could do after Paul had decided to chew up the cards after a bad round of poker. Every once in awhile he'd try to catch a glance at David, but each time he tried the blonde met his eyes with a dark look. Hard to tell if he was moody or just pissed off about the cards. Or something else, but there was no way in hell Michael planned to bring that topic up. Bloodlust and drugs did funny things sometimes, and that was all there was to it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael noticed an imp-like creature leering at him over the back of the couch like he had some sort of secret, but it was just Marko. Hard to tell the difference sometimes, the rotten little cave monkey.

"Yeah?" Michael asked him testily as he lowered his magazine, "you need something?"

"I'm bored."

"Then go play with yourself," Paul suggested from the fountain, having made his tenth circle around the edge, playing a balancing act while he made an attempt to wrap one of his patented 'Paulie Cigarettes'. Could probably kill an elephant with those if you could figure out a way to get it to smoke.

Marko flipped Paul the bird, "sit and spin."

Paul snickered, jumping off the side of the fountain, "nah, I don't think I wanna know where that thing's been."

Dwayne flopped down into the vacant spot on the couch, giving Marko a side-long glance, "dude, back off. You're creeping me out."

It struck Michael how odd it was that a vampire could actually be creeped out by something, but if anyone could manage it, Marko was doing pretty well. He was back to giving him that weird leer, occasionally looking over at David to share it.

Wait. Had-had he been watching them?!

"We all were," Marko echoed Michael's suspicious thought out loud, "caught you two right after intermission. Too bad we forgot the popcorn."

He could take him. He could. Marko was small, and sure he was fast too, easily a hundred years older than him, but he was small. Michael debated whether or not he was in the mood to take that chance, when a very icy voice rang through the air.

"Marko."

It was one word, but more than enough to make the smaller vampire back off, "alright, alright. I can take a hint." Marko threw up his hands, backing away from the couch. For a minute, it didn't look like David was satisfied enough with that response. In fact, he looked even moodier than before. Then, once Marko was safely sitting beside Paul and nibbling on the thumb of his glove in a semblance of deep thought, the tension in the hotel eased. Just a little.

"I think," Michael began and lowered his magazine, licking at his bottom lip to moisten it, "maybe tonight I'm going to pay mom a visit. In person." Anything to get away from this weird vibe tonight. This week. Really, just a weird feeling in general since they'd fed together. Among other things.

David leaned back in his wheelchair, striking a match on of the handles to light his cigarette. The motion had a distinctly rehearsed feel to it. Michael hadn't actually talked about visiting his family too often, sober, to maybe he'd been waiting for this. The first night he'd killed and been taught what it was to be without his pack, the taste of isolation they'd given him when he threatened to leave was more than enough to convince Michael he needed them. They had to know he'd be back. Wasn't planning on running away. Didn't even want to.

Smoke curled out of David's parted lips, a lazy white snake slithering towards the ceiling. "Alone?" He asked, flicking the end of the cigarette. He looked relaxed now. Amused. Back to his normal self.

It was a simple enough question. One with an answer he hadn't really thought about. Would it really be a good idea to visit mom or Sam, with the others tagging along to make a scene? No way he could picture Paul behaving himself, or Marko refraining from traumatizing his little brother. Even if a bit of a scare might help keep Sam from doing something stupid, Michael wasn't too sure he liked the idea.

"Yeah," he decided aloud, "alone."

David drummed his free hand on his knee, grinning, "you think you can handle that?"

Somehow, Michael didn't think this was quite as funny as Paul, who emitted a loud cackle before Dwayne threw a moldy pillow at his head to shut him up. He jerked up in surprise, dropping his joint in the fountain, "shit!"

David didn't once look away from Michael. This wasn't a joke. It was a challenge. If he lost his temper, he was at least smart enough to know it wouldn't end well, so he bit back the urge to tell his pack leader to go to hell.

"Yeah," Michael finally ground out, forcing a grin of his own, "I think I can handle that. Can you?"

"Go on," David waved a hand, "have fun."

Really? That was it? Michael was astonished. "That's it?"

"You're a big boy, Michael. You can take care of yourself."

The condescending tone grated on his nerves, but he kept his mouth shut, and elected instead to just leave before something happened. Not that anything could keep him there. He was his own man. Yeah, alright, so he needed them, and maybe he'd go crazy if he lost his pack, but he could handle himself for a few hours. Maybe even a few days. A week.

"Michael," David called out once his back was turned and he'd almost reached the lobby entrance.

"Yeah?" Michael didn't look back, just simply stood there, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

"Don't stay out too late."

Lucy had piled the last comic from the kitchen counter into a small laundry basket before turning around to pass it to Sam, along with the shoes he stubbornly kept leaving in the downstairs hallway.

"I thought you didn't like monster comics," she remarked, eyeing the contents of the basket curiously. It all looked far scarier than what he normally read. Maybe he was going through a phase. The idea made her more than a little concerned. Everything about him worried her these days. Michael had already slipped away, and Lucy couldn't shake the worry that soon Sam would too.

"Ed and Alan keep giving them to me, mom," he told her with a shrug, "they're okay. I don't have anything left to read."

She brightened a little, "I've got a few new books from that new store on the boardwalk if you'd like to read them. You still like fairytales, don't you?"

"Uh," he lowered the basket a little, "mom, I haven't liked that stuff since I was wetting the bed."

"Oh," she faltered a little, wrapping her hands around her torso just to have something to do with them, "well, they're still there if you decide you might want to look at them."

He nodded, leaning forward to kiss her on the forehead, "alright mom. Maybe I will. Do you need anything before I go start my homework, or-...?"

"No, I'll be fine. I'll just make some tea. I could bring some up to you if you like?"

Sam shook his head, leaving Lucy alone in the kitchen. Supper was cleared away. The counters were scrubbed clean. Even with Sam in his room, the house felt so empty. Maybe she would visit Hattie tomorrow, despite her misgivings. Lucy really didn't like to think loneliness could drive her to be just as eccentric if not worse than that woman. If anything, she could at least feel a little closer to her dad's memories.

Just as she'd set the kettle on the stovetop, a loud knock sounded at the door. For a moment, her heart gave a leap. Was it Hattie? At this hour? Lord, she hoped not. Not that the older woman was dangerous, but Lucy just wasn't prepared for that level of energy at this time of night. Especially after the week she'd had at work, half of the staff deciding not to show up, her hours practically doubling overnight.

"I'm coming!" Lucy called out, shuffling in her worn-thin house shoes towards the front door. If it wasn't Hattie, it couldn't be a robber. He wouldn't knock. An odd chill ran down her spine, and for just a moment, half a second, she recalled a childhood fear of monsters in the dark.

"Mom?"

"Michael?" She whispered under her breath, and then louder, "Michael!" Lucy could have torn the door from its hinges if she were stronger.

There he stood. In one piece. Her wayward child who'd left home without a word, coming back in just the same way.

Then, with nothing else to offer but a nervous smile, he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and said, "hi."

She just couldn't be mad. "God, I missed you," Lucy exclaimed, albeit softly and with a bit of a laugh as she stepped aside to let him pass. He seemed to hesitate, looking behind him as if he expected something to happen at any moment.

"Michael?" Lucy repeated his name one more time, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shook his head, "just making sure I parked close enough. Near the light."

"Is everything okay? Are you eating? Are you coming home?" She poked and prodded at him with questions, just as he stepped through the threshold and pulled her into a tight hug. He smelled very strange.

"Have you been gardening?" She pressed, inhaling the scent of his jacket, trying to place that odd scent before he let her go and closed the door behind him. He smelled like earth and iron. Certainly not any sort of cologne she'd remembered her eldest son wearing. Far too strong. Lucy wasn't sure she liked it.

"Everything's fine, I'm eating plenty, I'm just visiting, and yeah I guess I've been digging around a little," he answered all of her questions in order leaning over to kiss Lucy's cheek. "I just wanted to see you guys."

He looked-he acted-he sounded different, but she just couldn't figure out why. It had only been a few months, surely he couldn't have changed that much?

"Hey, how about some coffee?" He suggested, nodding towards the kitchen, "it's pretty late, so-"

"-coffee!" Lucy clapped her hands together, "yes, coffee! There's some instant in the fridge, I'm making tea anyway. How long are you staying?" If it meant keeping him there, finding out why he'd left, fixing whatever had happened between them and having her son back, Lucy would make him a thousand cups of coffee. She'd raid a Columbian farm if she had to.

She rushed to the kitchen with Michael trailing behind her, stopping only when she noticed him hesitating at the stairs.

"Oh, Sam!" Lucy exclaimed, "I'll go get him."

"I can do it, mom," Michael waved her off, "you go get the water before it boils over."

"It's not-" She stopped when the distinct sound of the screaming kettle. Such odd timing.

"Go on." Michael winked at her, "I'll surprise him."

"Alright, alright," Lucy relented, "just don't scare him. He's been so nervous lately. I think it's those comics he's been reading."

Michael placed a hand on his heart, dramatically, playfully, "me? Scare Sam? Never!" He paused, "I'm pretty sure Nanook would freak out and bite my head off if I did."

"Nanook?" She laughed, "he's a teddy bear." Lucy couldn't help but shake her head as she left him to go take care of the tea and coffee. The very idea of that dog hurting anyone was ridiculous.

Sam eyed his textbook morosely, as if at any moment the numbers were going to leap off the page and beat him within an inch of his life and there was nothing he could do about it. Why was it that every time his math teachers gave him a homework and assignment, said it wouldn't be graded, then gave him F's when he didn't do it?

"Ughhhhh!" Sam groaned, slamming his head against the book. Even thinking about vampires wasn't enough to distract him.

Nanook lifted his head from where he'd been resting it on Sam's feet, looking up at him and letting out a long whine.

"What, you need to pee now?" Sam demanded, and then thought maybe that'd be a lot funner than his homework. A walk would be good, but then there was that whole thing about vampires. He really didn't want to have to explain to his mom why he was toting grandma's old crucifix out to the front lawn for extra protection. He couldn't even hide it, either. The thing was about as long as his arm.

Nanook stood up, charging towards the bedroom door to scratch at it demandingly, yapping every so often as he did so.

"What, little Timmy stuck in a well?" Sam snarked, heading towards the door to let his dog out, but he stopped short when the doorknob slowly began to turn.

"Mom?" Sam called out, surprised, "what do you-"

Nanook dashed out of the room, and Sam tried to rush after him, only to find that not only was nobody in the hallway, but neither was his dog. Then he heard the sound of a door slamming, and silence. "Mom?" Sam shouted, swearing he could taste his heart in his mouth.

"No such things as ghosts, just vampires," he told himself under his breath, "all those dead things grandpa stuffed didn't come back to claw your eyes out, it was just a dream."

He heard Nanook whining down the hall, scratching from behind a door, and slowly creeped away from his room. Sounded like it was coming from the bathroom. "Mom?" Sam repeated, "Nanook, calm down!" Maybe it was just the wind. Really strong wind. In the house.

Suddenly, strong fingers gripped at Sam's shoulders and spun him around. What else could he do? Sam bravely shrieked and used his expert fighting skills to wave his arms at the offender, flapping them wildly against a leather-jacketed weirdo.

"Hey! Calm down!" Michael snapped, grabbing Sam's wrists and ending his penguin-like assault, "it's me!"

"Mike!" Sam shouted yanking his hands from his brother's grasp, "what the hell did you do to my dog?!

"Jeeze, calm down. He tried to tackle me, so I locked him in the bathroom. Didn't want slobber on my shirt. You can let him out when I leave. How about a 'hi, how's my awesome big brother?'"

Sam huffed, "you're a buttface!" Not the best one-liner, but it got the point across pretty nicely.

"Nice to see you, too." Michael rolled his eyes. "How about coming downstairs and acting like you've got a brain cell?"

"You-" Sam sputtered, "I've got a brain cell," he replied, slumping a little, "where've you been?"

"Around," he replied, shrugging. "I'm here now, so just go with it."

Jerk or not, Sam was happy to see his jerk of a brother. Alive. Human. In the house. "Mike," he began, throwing himself into his older brother's arms and hugging him with as much strength as he could muster, "I did miss you."

Michael tensed up beneath his grip, "hey, yeah, sure," he replied, expertly slipping out of Sam's grasp. He had a funny look on his face, and for just an instant Sam could swear he looked like he wanted to hurt him. Then it was gone, and Michael was mussing Sam's hair in his typical jerk-like way.

"Hey!" Sam protested, trying to shrug that odd thought away. He was imagining it, Mike was Mike. "Seriously, meat-head, stop!"

Michael snorted, tugging at Sam's collar, "c'mon, coffee's ready. I don't want it getting cold."

"Wait, hold on, before we go downstairs I need to ask you something." Sam straightened up. He was glad to see Mike, really, but that didn't change the fact that he hadn't seen him in months! Except when he'd spot him on the boardwalk with those-"Mike, why is it every time I see you on the boardwalk, you run off? What about those creepy guys you're hanging out with?"

"My friends?" Michael's eyebrows shot up, "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never seen you out there." He was a bad liar. Three months hadn't changed that. What was he hiding?

"Sam," Michael whispered, leaning close, "I said my coffee's getting cold. Just let it go."

"Let what go?" He hadn't said anything.

"Don't worry about it," Michael shrugged, strolling towards the stairs, "I can't stay long. Let's just hang out for a bit, alright?"

Sam couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, but he kept the thought to himself, following his brother downstairs to the kitchen. Mom was already waiting at the table for them, hands wrapped around a small china cup. She looked happier than he'd seen her in awhile. Whatever it was about his brother that bugged him, he didn't want to ruin the homecoming party. Or visit.

"So!" Lucy set her cup down and clapped her hands together as they all settled into their seats, "how long are you staying? Your bed is just like you left it, and if you need a job, I'm sure I could-"

"Mom. I'm just hanging out for a little bit." Michael cut her off before she could finish, and Sam couldn't help but flinch at the crestfallen look on her face. He didn't have to let her down that fast. Could've waited.

Lucy smiled, "a-alright, I guess that makes sense," she lowered her hands into her lap, visibly deflating. "So I guess you found a job? You said as much in your letters."

Sam had read those notes Mike left them. Honestly, he hadn't really said anything about what he was doing. Where he was staying. He might as well have just skipped writing them altogether, except at least their mom still knew he was alive.

"Yeah, I guess I did." Michael shrugged noncommittally, "you could call it a job. Mostly charity. Clean-ups, pest control, that kinda stuff."

"So you're a garbage lackey?" Sam teased, drawing a dark look from his brother. He jumped a little in his seat, taken by surprise. There was that weird face again. "Jeeze, Mike, it was just a joke."

"What?" Michael straightened up, making an attempt at a tense smile, "I know you were."

"You looked like you wanted to kill me!" Sam snapped back.

Lucy looked back and forth between the pair, "is there something I'm missing? Sam, please don't tease your brother."

Michael drummed his fingers against the table. Sam couldn't look away from his nails. They looked longer. Like, longer than he'd seen them before. He'd make a joke about it, but the funny mood Mike was in made him think twice about it. There was something oddly uncomfortable about this visit with his brother, and maybe it was just him, but it was weird.

"Sam?"

Those nails were freaky!

"Sam!" Michael waved a hand in front of his face, finally getting his attention.

"Wh-huh?" Sam shook his head, "oh man, dazed out. Yeah, what?"

"You okay?" Michael asked, a cool smile on his face. Like he knew something.

"Guess I'm just tired," Sam lied, looking back at Lucy, "been a long day."

"I'm sure it has," she leaned forward to squeeze his hand. If anything, her day had probably been a lot worse than his. He could swear he actually saw the rings around her eyes through the make-up.

Michael played with the handle of his coffee mug, neither drinking it nor seeming particularly interested in the contents, "maybe I picked a bad time," he said, frowning down at the coffee. Like he had something to say, but didn't really know how. Sam knew that look. Even if he didn't really know why his brother kept giving him the death glares for no reason, Sam knew that look. Maybe his brother had changed in a few ways after he'd pulled his disappearing act, but they were still family. They'd always be family.

"Something wrong, Mike?" Sam asked, grabbing his own glass of tea. He hadn't asked for it, but mom had probably figured he'd want some when Mike showed up.

"You didn't pick a bad time, sweetie" Lucy threw out, anxious and ready to leap up if she had to in order to keep him there. Luckily, Michael didn't look like he was about to leave any time soon.

They sat together for awhile, conversation drying up before it could start. There didn't seem to be much to say. Sam thought he'd be a lot madder when or if his brother decided to show up in their lives again. He thought he'd have something to yell about, or a thousand questions and demands. Now the only thing he could even think to say wasn't exactly what Mike or mom would want to hear without putting him on some sort of looney pill. 'I'm glad you're not a bloodsucker.' One less thing to be worried about, but then again, one more. What was going to happen now?

"You should call, or visit," Lucy broke through the silence, "anything is better than letters, Michael. It really hurt me when you walked away like that. Did you think I wouldn't let you go?"

Wow, mom. Way to make everything feel all weird again. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes flicking quickly over Michael's face before returning to their mom's. Yeah, okay, he wanted an answer too, but was there a good one? One that wouldn't leave them all feeling even worse than before? This was just too awkward. Like one of those days dad came home with lipstick and perfume all over his shirt, then asking mom to make breakfast and showing it off like some kinda trophy. Except this time she was actually saying something.

Michael suddenly jerked up, staring towards the shades of the kitchen window, scowling.

"Michael?" Lucy said his name, quiet. Just a whisper. "Well?"

Sam looked towards the window, as if there was anything there. What the hell?

"I guess I just wasn't thinking," Michael finally said, continuing to stare at the window, "didn't really know what to tell you. Figured you'd get over it." Funny. Didn't sound like he was really sorry. Maybe the window was a lot more interesting than their mom's reaction.

Sam bit his lip, sure if he said anything right now, Lucy would shatter. She looked like she'd just been slapped. At a loss for words.

Then, as if he'd suddenly realized what an asshole he was being, Michael looked back at her, "I'm sorry. I've got a lot of stuff going on right now, mom." He pushed away from the table, "I've gotta take care of something."

Lucy stood up, reaching for him and very nearly knocking her tea over, "please, Michael, it can wait! Stay." She took a deep breath, "stay." She didn't mean just for a few more minutes. She wanted a lot more than that.

Michael shook his head, walking around the table and pulling her into his arms, giving their mom one of the most awkward hugs Sam had ever seen. Like he'd forgotten how to do it. "Listen, I really don't know how to talk to you guys like I used to. I wish I was better at this. I'm just not the same person anymore." Even though he was mumbling the apology into Lucy's hair, Sam heard it all.

Lucy pressed her face against his shoulder, and Sam leapt up from the table to join the hug before his brother could slip away. They were family. He couldn't just leave like this.

"What's happened to you, Michael?" Lucy whispered, "did I do some-"

"You're fine," he cut her off, "you're both fine. It's just me." He tensed a little when Sam joined them, but then quickly reached out to pull his little brother closer, "I'm sorry. I'll figure things out. I will."

It was confusing, and it hurt, and Sam wished he could do something to keep Mike there. All he could do, though, was hug his family and bite back his tears, and then bite back his fear when he caught sight of a polished silver plate Lucy had hung on the kitchen wall. Because what he saw there was just him and his mom, embracing an empty space.

David didn't remember his family very well. In life, they hadn't been close. Phantoms of bitter memories painted over by time. The closest he and the boys had ever gotten to that was the day the first television shop opened in Santa Carla, and after Max had happily gorged on the store clerks, forced them all to spend the rest of the night admiring those glass screens together with visions of the happy family they would all soon become. Shades of the head vampire's lunacy reflected back at them far better than the hazy television signals.

Watching Michael try to capture a fading taste of humanity tonight was oddly reminiscent of that. Except, of course, for a few things. Namely, he wasn't dragging the rest of his pack into the illusion, and it was getting clearer by the minute to him that coming here tonight was pointless. David knew it would. He had from the very beginning, but it was something the younger vampire would have to learn for himself. Nobody could live in both worlds, living or dead, and it was too late to go back.

Standing outside the kitchen window, he could only see slivers through the shades and screen. Spots of light and moving shapes. It didn't matter. If he wanted, David could see through the eyes of either of the humans inside, or even Michael. It was a slow process, but he found that the longer Max was dead, the more power he seemed to gather. Little things. Tastes of something more, if he only reached for it. Sooner or later, he wouldn't have a choice about it. The air out here, separated from the boardwalk and the beach, reeked of others. Not hunters. Packs, creeping in. Testing him and the boys.

"Are you done?" David demanded impatiently, his voice pressing into Michael's mind. He'd been hiding himself, masking his presence tonight, but enough was enough. There were others, creeping in, and too many to deal with alone.

"I was wondering when you'd crash the party," Michael replied, seeming to be just a little amused.

David frowned at the window shade, "wrap it up." Somehow it didn't feel like the demand had quite the same effect when they weren't face to face. He wasn't entirely mad at Michael. Irritated, yes, because this whole exercise at playing house was pointless, but most of his anger was towards the other vampires he could sense approaching. Rolling in with the evening fog. How predictable.

For a few minutes, there was no response. David could make out movement through the shades, and through Michael's eyes he saw his childe finally parting from his old family after a long, and very tense hug. Words were said, just sappy enough to make him want to gag, and finally Michael was outside. David melted into the dark, away from the house, waiting.

The look on Michael's face cooled his agitation a little. He looked, for want of a better word, lost.

It wouldn't do to alarm him. He'd pick up on the other scents soon enough, and they had time to talk. Just for awhile.

"Have fun?" David inquired, leaning against Michael's bike as if it were his own. They were a good distance from the house, where nobody inside would see them. Just as well. Something was wrong.

Michael licked his bottom lip. A nervous habit of his that always seemed to draw David's attention. "Sam knows," he shrugged, "I think. Tried not to listen to his thoughts, but he's so loud. Doesn't seem to shut up." His mouth twitched a little, dry humor in the face of a bad night, "so I guess not much has changed."

"You have," David pointed out, looking back at the house, "pretty soon everything around here is going to change a lot more, Michael. If you try to hold on, it'll only get worse." He leaned forward to press a gloved finger to the younger vampire's forehead, "trust me. You don't learn to just let go, you're gonna snap. It's not in our nature to play house. Sure, visit, talk, but that's all you can really do."

"I can make it work," Michael argued, batting David's hand away.

David rolled his eyes, "your brother smells like a rat. Even if he only hunted once, that scent never washes away. You think you can really play nice now that he knows what you are?" He leaned in a little closer, scenting at Michael. Now that he was marked, claimed, it was even harder for him to hide his thoughts from his maker. David could see the guilty thoughts Michael had the moment he came close to that little twerp inside. Grisly images of Sam Emerson, torn in half, or speared with one of his own stakes while Michael stood above him covered in blood.

That would be fun. Michael was usually a messy eater, rivaled only by Marko's penchant for wearing more of his food than actually drinking it. What a shame he had self-control; David would have loved the show.

It looked as if Michael were about to snap out a retort, the way he narrowed his eyes and focused on a spot just past David's shoulder to avoid direct eye contact or losing his temper; then something altogether different happened. Namely, he was finally picking up the scent of the others. Nothing was more repulsive for their kind than a vampire who wasn't pack. Not even hunters.

David looked around, setting aside his irritation in favor of safety, "guess we'll have to pick this up later."

Michael agreed, "alright." He straddled his bike, "but Sam's not stupid enough to come after us. No way in hell. You, maybe, but not me."

"Yeah, sure," somehow David had a feeling he was going to have to eat those words.