A/N—Disclaimer: I don't own Lost Boys. Everything belongs to its proper owners, and I own nothing.

Notes: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update this. The semester started out dull and really rocketed into a large amount of papers—and then my hard drive crashed just a few weeks ago. Surprisingly, a week without MS Word was what I needed to get me in gear. So here's the long awaited next chapter!

Thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers and followers. This is for you!

Merry Christmas Eve!

Max knew from the moment he entered run down hotel that his boys had failed to get rid of the child.

It was still too clean, and while apparently they'd worked at hiding the toys and books, Max could still see stray items that they'd forgotten or that the child had brought back in. And there was light…the curtains had been drawn back to let in light.

"Boys…" he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "What a way to welcome me back after an extra year's absence. You're hiding from me…and you still. Kept. The child." By the time he finished speaking his voice was a growl, rising in volume as he felt his anger begin to manifest itself in fangs and angry red eyes.

Paul was the first to appear. While he held no child in his arms this time, Max could feel the nervousness emanating from him. His blonde hair was even more tousled than usual, and his brown eyes were panicked. He was visibly shaking.

"Where's the child?" Max was too tired and too irritated to beat around the bush. "I told you—I told you four years ago—to get rid of it."

Paul opened his mouth and choked out "The ch—?"

"Don't lie to me!" Max snapped. "You had more than enough chances! You had four years to get rid of it, when you could have disposed of the thing the moment I was gone! Why did you keep it?"

Paul tried to speak, but words were failing him, and he ended up just gaping at Max, looking as helpless as the victims that they claimed.

"David! Dwayne!"

"They're not here…" Paul whispered.

"Where are they?"

"They went out."

Max sucked in a deep breath. "Did they take the child with them?"

Paul didn't answer. His eyes were bright, and he swallowed far too convulsively for anything other than tears.

"Enough of that!" Max barked at him. "Did they take the child with them?...Of course they did. They're running…you must have won David over enough to get him not only to try to persuade me to keep the kid, but to deceive me." He sighed. "I've asked you multiple times now, Paul. Why didn't you get rid of it?"

Paul looked at him, and suddenly the words came out. "Why shouldn't I have kept him? He had no family, and…and he was three! He was just old enough to know that I was…that I was Paul, and that David and Dwayne were who they were, and that no matter whether we said we loved him or not we took care of him and we always came home! Was I supposed to leave him? Abandon him?"

"You didn't have to leave the child alive."

"So I was supposed to kill him?" Paul was weeping now, eyes wide with pain and terror. "After three years…I was supposed either abandon him or kill him?" He sank onto the couch, his hands shaking more violently than the rest of him.

"You were given orders. You defied them, and you deceived me. Purposely."

Paul nodded. "I did."

Max glared down at the young man.

"I told you to get rid of it." He repeated the words slowly, watching Paul wince at every pause. "You didn't."

"I c-can't," Paul sobbed, tears shining in his eyes.

They stood and sat in silence for a moment, Paul crying, Max struggling to contain his anger. Finally Max spat out a few sentences.

"Get David and Dwayne. And tell them to bring the child with them."

"You're supposed to come back. And bring Marko with you." Paul's voice was wooden, and he sounded defeated.

David nodded. The old baby monitor (the only thing they'd managed to grab for communication as they fled) crackled in his hand. It shouldn't have worked after so many years, but luckily Paul had been a battery maniac and had replaced them only a few uses before Marko outgrew the monitors and Dwayne convinced Paul to let the child sleep without constant supervision. Behind him, Dwayne was seated by the entrance to the Boardwalk, helping Marko with first grade math. The little boy was incredibly sharp, and after only a few repetitions of the facts he had it pretty much down. But Paul had spoiled him (they all had), and he liked to have company.

"Is he mad?"

"Yes. He…he as good as said that we should have abandoned Marko or…or killed him." Paul sniffled every once in a while, and David shook his head.

"We didn't do it. Get a grip, Paul. Looking soft isn't going to endear you or Marko to Max. Get a grip, and just try not to argue with him until we get back with Marko."

"Yeah," Paul muttered. David heard him blow him nose, and the sound made the monitor crackle even louder with a very distinct sneezing sound.

"Excuse you!" Marko chirped from where he was finishing up his math homework, and Paul gave another weak sob.

"Get a grip," David repeated, and turned off the monitor before Paul lost it or before Marko decided to abandon his work and give him "Hello Paul" schpiel, which would enrage Max.

"Pack it up, Dwayne," he hollered. Dwayne nodded and closed the book.

"Time to get on back, kiddo. Paul's gonna want your help with dinner after he gets done with company, and you need a break anyway, before you get too smart."

Marko hopped up enthusiastically. "What are we making?"

"I dunno. Choose, and I bet Paul will let you make whatever you want."

"Yeah!" Marko shrieked, imitating Paul's signature phrase as he scrambled into his seat. For a moment he seemed to be three again. Dwayne started up the bike.

"Let's get going."