Chapter Text
The aftermath of the incident was actually a lot easier than they thought it would be. On one hand, the house was condemned. Between Grandpa driving though the front of it and whatever the Frog Brothers did to the plumbing to explode it like that, it was a total write off. On the other, Max had creepily made Lucy the heir to everything in his will, which everyone in town thought was freakishly obsessive for a woman he was only on the third date with.
In fact, it ended up being a good litmus test for who did and did not know about Max. Those who didn't were shocked, those who did just got quiet and looked at Lucy like they knew the bullet she dodged. The Emerson’s made careful note of those people.
The Head Vampire had squirreled away a lot of funds and since Max really didn't have any other friends or family, Lucy got it anyways. She bought a nice house for her family, with an entire secondary building outside for Grandpa to do his taxidermy. Dealing with the memories was harder.
Lucy had taken to art therapy. She had a little sketchbook and pastels and colored pencils and would draw bits and pieces of the things she remembered from that night. While Sam and Michael had been tormented for days, for Lucy the nightmare had been condensed into five minutes where her entire world fell apart, and days of trying to put it back together. The drawings were her trying to break everything into pieces and hopefully put something together her mind could take.
Sammy had begun obsessively checking his reflection. He had more than his fair share of nightmares of blood and death. Of the dark-haired vampire being roasted by the electrical current and the curly-haired one shrieking and gushing blood. But the worst were the dreams where Max had succeeded in turning him and he killed Grandpa and Nanook and the Frogs. Checking his reflection in the mirror let him know it was just a dream and wasn’t, would never be reality.
Michael...Michael didn’t have that luxury. He wondered if he'd ever be free of his days passing into undeath. He woke up in a cold sweat most mornings, usually dreaming about the bonfire on the beach, seeing his new friends show their true faces (a true face he’d realized lived under his skin too), and how much he'd wanted to join in the massacre, how much he could remember having to fight every urge to fly over and drink the blood spilled on the sands. And he couldn’t even comfort himself the the knowledge it was just a dream. Even in the waking world, every time he felt a flash of anger, he expected to feel his fangs slide into place. And unlike Sammy, he flinched away from his reflection, as if sure it would flicker away again. Michael wondered if he’d even really feel human again.
Yeah, the only one who came out of it emotionally unscathed was Grandpa. And that was likely because he was already insane.
So with all of them having enough nightmare fuel to last them the rest of their lives, Michael considered it a mistake to have glanced at his mother's sketchbook when she left it out one night. The pictures were good. Some reminded him of Courtroom sketches, especially the one with pictures from the divorce. There were drawings of the destruction of Grandpa's house that almost looked like architectural diagrams, and then he turned the page and his breath caught in his throat. It was a portrait of himself, but a version of his face he had never seen before.
He'd known some of the monster inside him had slipped out when he was fighting the other vampires. He'd felt his vision sharpen, his fangs grow prominent. It's why he'd begged Star not to let Sammy or his mother see him.
But the face in the sketchbook was beyond that. His face was the same pronounced demonic shape the other Lost Boys had when they killed those people at the bonfire, the only difference being his eyes were a cold silver instead of the red and gold fire of the full vampires. That was his face. For one night, that had been his face. And his Mom had seen it, had it burned into her memory. And now that sketchbook page was burned into his.
Michael's reaction to the picture had been the very reasonable running into the bathroom to throw up and then showering until the scalding hot water turned cold, then collapsing into bed. He shouldn't have been surprised when Sammy came to check up on him. Michael's first sign of vampirism they had all missed was his suddenly inverted sleep schedule, so staying in bed all day was a cause for concern.
Sammy checked his reflection, because he was messed up too and had to be sure sometimes, and then sat on Michael's bed and tried to get him to talk.
"Were you scared? When my face changed?" Michael finally asked, voice hollow in his own ears.
"Well, yeah. I thought only full vampires could do that. So I thought you'd killed someone and we lost you." Sammy admitted.
"I did. I killed David." Michael said despondently.
"David wasn't a someone." Sammy said bluntly, but dropped the subject when Michael rolled over and refused to talk anymore.
It took a few days for the new flavor of trauma to wear off. And Michael hated his brain because it felt like the moment it did, he wanted to see the picture again for some insane reason. And you’d think after resisting the urge to drink fresh blood when it was right in front of his face, he’d be strong enough to resist this urge as well. But, because he made bad life decisions, as well as bad decisions for staying alive, he went back and looked at it again the next time his mother left her sketchbook out.
Where the first time he just had its existence burned into his mind, this time he stopped and took in the details. It was a monster, but it was very much him. And he wasn't sure if it was better or worse and his stomach twisted and—
"Oh, Michael." He heard his mother's voice as she wrapped her arms around him. He hadn’t even heard her come in. "I wish you had told me what was happening to you. I wish I could have helped."
"You tried Mom. I didn't understand what was happening." Michael admitted, the words catching on a lump in his throat. "And by the time I did, I was so afraid I might hurt you or Sam I just… I don’t know. I wanted everything to go back to normal."
"You wouldn't have hurt us." she promised him.
"You don't know that." Michael insisted. "The hunger, the desire to feed, having people smell like food, it's overwhelming. I don't...I don't think I would have held on as long as Star did. The first night, when I didn’t understand what the hunger was I almost— I think I was going for Sam. Nanook stopped me,” he confessed.
"Let me show you another picture." Lucy flipped a few pages and Michael saw another drawing of his vampire self. This one was a full body drawing of him charging forward with a vicious snarl, fangs bared and fingertips ending in wicked claws. Michael turned his head in shame, but his mother gently guided his face back to it.
"Do you remember what you were doing in this memory?" Lucy asked.
"Fighting David?” Michael guessed. “No, you didn't come back until after—" After David was dead.
"You were charging Max. Attacking someone you knew was incredibly strong and dangerous to protect Sam and I. These pictures of you like that? They don't scare me, Michael.” Lucy promised. “They comfort me. Because even after what Max and those boys of his changed you into, it was still you. And I'd like to think that if he had turned me, I'd still love you just as much."
"You would." Michael said without hesitation. "Believe me, they did love each other, the Boys. All of that night was because one of the Frog brothers staked Marko. Even though it went against Max's plan, the desires of the head vampire who controlled them, the loss of their brother... I hate that I get it. But if it were Sammy, I'd—" Michael looked out towards Grandpa's taxidermy shed and Lucy remembered her son had killed someone to protect his brother. Someone not long before he'd considered a friend. "And I’m a hypocrite to be angry he turned me, because if Max turned you and kept his promise to let Sammy go, I probably would have made Sammy drink my blood. If half-vampire blood works to make more half vampires, I don't know."
"Why would you do that, Michael?" There was no condemnation, but concern and curiosity. She was willing to hear him out, even after he’d said something so horrible.
"Because I think you'd be like me. You'd struggle with the idea of killing someone, put it off as long as you could. And the hunger would get into your head and it would only take a split second of your control slipping and Sammy... being half vampire would keep either of us from hurting him. And as long as he didn't kill anyone, he'd become human again once I killed Max. And I'd never stop trying to kill him. If not to free us, then to avenge you two."
"It's okay if you miss them." Lucy promised. Michael looked at her aghast, a mix of shock and guilt etched into his expression.
"Oh, Michael." Lucy said fondly. "It's not too different from your father."
"Dad wasn't an undead blood-sucking monster." Micheal pointed out.
"It certainly felt that way, sometimes." Lucy grumbled. "Michael, your father...wasn't always like he was. There was a time he was sweet and loving. When I truly believed he'd never raise a hand against me or you. And after what happened, a part of me wanted to believe all that sweetness was a lie and there was never anything good about him. But eventually I had to realize that maybe it was all a lie, or maybe it wasn't and something had changed. But that doesn’t change the look on his face when he held you in his arms for the first time. When we danced in the rain together during the summer of love. When he asked me to marry him. My happy memories are still something I treasure and I miss the man I loved once, even if he only existed in my mind."
She took her son's hands. "I didn't approve of your new friends, but at one point they made you feel special, like you'd found a place to belong. And while everyone else calls them the monsters or the vampires, you use their names. David. Marko. Paul. Dwayne. And it's okay to miss the people you thought they were, and maybe even actually were. The bad outweighing the good doesn't mean the good never happened. And if you want to talk about the good times with them, I'd love to listen." Lucy smiled encouragingly.
A thousand and one thoughts ran through Michael's head but what actually came out was 'I could fly, Mom."
"That sounds amazing." she said softly.
~
" -if Max turned you and kept his promise to let Sammy go, I probably would have made Sammy drink my blood. If half-vampire blood works to make more half vampires, I don't know."
Sammy froze on the steps. Did he hear that right? Michael would have turned him into a monster too, even if Max had let him go?
"Why would you do that Michael?" Mom asked.
"Because I think you'd be like me. You'd struggle with the idea of killing someone, put it off as long as you could. And the hunger would get into your head and it would only take a split second of your control slipping and Sammy... being half vampire would keep either of us from hurting him. And as long as he didn't kill anyone, he'd become human again once I killed Max. And I'd never stop trying to kill him. If not to free us, then to avenge you two."
Sammy's heart calmed down a little. It's not like Michael wanted him to be a vampire, he just didn't want to lose him. And Sammy couldn't really blame him. He remembered how weird Michael was the first night. Nanook certainly thought Michael was going to hurt him. And Michael was also planning on freeing or avenging him, so that was something.
So he kept listening to Michael talk about flying, and riding his bike with them, and Marko's pigeons, and getting his ears pierced, and Sammy felt himself getting annoyed again. These were the bad guys! Why was Michael sounding like he missed them?
And then a single thought cut through the annoyance like a knife. We killed all of Michael's friends
And it left him feeling cold. Because even if the vampires weren't exactly good friends (good friends don’t turn you into a monster and dump you home to figure it out yourself), Michael hadn't really had ANY friends back in Phoenix. And even though Sammy hated the vampires and was glad they were all dead (that would never change), it still had to suck for Michael that the first people who made him feel like he belonged did that to him. They were worse than Dad and that was the worst insult Sammy could give.
Listening to his Mom and Brother talk made it clear that Michael was mourning the vampires (sans Max, whom he had no attachment to), and also feeling horrendously guilty for mourning them.
'I killed David.' Sammy wanted to kick himself. He'd been trying to break through the funk Michael had been in ever since that night and Michael handed him the answer on a silver platter. Not 'I killed the bloodsucker who tricked me'. Not 'I killed the asshole who we thought was the head vampire'. It was 'I killed David'. ‘I killed my friend'.
And what had Sammy done? Thrown it back in his face that David wasn't a person. Stupid! He probably made Michael feel even more guilty about being sad. He needed to fix this and help Michael mourn and— and he had the perfect idea!
~
"So I've been reading about ghosts-"
"Please Sammy, I don't think I can take ghosts." Michael pleaded.
"And what I read says one thing that can cause ghosts to become unquiet spirits is if they don't have a grave or their graves aren't taken care of. So I thought 'Hey, maybe we can prevent the vampires from becoming angry spirits if we make graves for them. And we can leave flowers there and stuff, and make gravestones and just give them a good final resting place." Sam shrugged as if it were a casual idea and not him spending two days thinking of a good excuse to make graves for Michael’s friends.
"Cenotaphs!" Their grandfather barked from the other room, making them jump.
"What are cenotaphs, Gramps?" Sammy asked.
"A gravestone's what ya call a marker with a body underneath. No body, and it's a cenotaph." Grandpa grumbled. "What are they teaching today in schools?"
"Not this." Sammy grumbled and turned his attention back to his brother. Hmm, this may have backfired. Michael was staring off into the distance. Crap, did he make things worse?
"I think..." Michael's voice sounded raw. "I think that's a really good idea, Sammy."
~
Grandpa was surprisingly good when it came to making the cenotaphs. Unfortunately it was almost impossible to tell what was him being secretly on the ball and what was him being not quite sane. So they thanked him for his help and moved on.
Working on them was also a case study into Michael's emotions. Sometimes he was so gentle and tender with them, other times in nearly a rage. And it helped to know that Michael hadn't just forgiven them for trying to kill them all. That he would fight them all himself if he had to to keep him and Mom safe, even if doing so broke his heart all over again.
Stupid vampires didn't deserve Michael, Sammy thought as he carved 'Dwayne' into the cenotaph he was working on. Dwayne had been the one he killed with the bow and arrow and a little help from the electrical system. Sammy had honestly liked it better when he could have just known him as the dark-haired vampire, and not Dwayne who always made sure Laddie was safe when they took him for rides on his motorcycle.
And honestly, Michael wasn't the only one who was mad at his friends. On one hand, the Frogs hadn't been purposefully trying to kill his family. On the other, they'd almost done it anyways by pretending to be more experienced than they were and drawing direct retaliation from a group of vampires it turned out was under orders NOT to harm them. They'd been fooled by Max, and it turned out Grandpa had Max handled anyways. And the way they always gravitated towards the most violent solution had made them feel as bloodthirsty as the vampires. They certainly weren't subtle in their desire to stake Michael even after knowing he could be saved.
That...wasn't the reason Sammy was mad at them, though. Max was an elder vampire and knew some good tricks. Vampires were dangerous and you couldn't hesitate, And they didn't know Michael like he did. It was when they charged him for it. That was when they shifted from 'fighters for truth, justice, and the American way,' who just needed more experience, to feeling more like... Sammy didn't know. They'd brought danger to the Emersons, helped destroy the house, and demanded to be paid for their service. And, yes, they killed two vampires, but they were two vampires who hadn't been a threat to Sammy prior and they'd failed to even try to to identify the head vampire after the dinner. They'd gone after the one in the cave, Marco, because he was the smallest. The smallest! Alan and Edgar were pretty good at thinking outside the box. They probably could become really good vampire hunters. But Sammy wondered if they ever saw him as a friend or just a client. And he was afraid to ask.
When the cenotaphs were done, Sammy had wanted to put them up on the far edge of the property, but Michael insisted they go to the vampire's lair. It was their final resting place, it had to be somewhere meaningful for them. Sammy had wanted to snark back that they were lucky to get markers, but held his tongue. He had to remind himself that he wasn't doing this for the vampires, he was doing this for Michael.
So he made his way back to the creepy cave. It didn't seem quite as bad as before. Like the evil had died with the vampires. Or maybe it was mourning them? Maybe because he was here to honor the cave’s former masters, not hurt them? However it shook out, Sammy just wanted to be finished and get out.
They set up the cenotaphs. Michael lit some candles and put offerings of beer and smokes (of varying legality) and various trinkets from around the hotel. Sammy trusted Michael to know which ones were best to put on which marker.
They both said some prayers, but Michael didn't seem settled.
"It's missing something." Michael said.
"You knew them," Sammy shrugged. "I didn't. I wouldn't know."
"I've got it!" Michael jumped up and began rummaging through things from the hotel. He came back with a couple of tubes of lipstick. Blood red, of course. He climbed a little bit up the wall and began to write
Sleep All Day
Party All Night
Never Grow Old
Never Die
-The Lost Boys
It felt right. It felt like them. Their motto in the place they called home. "Do you think they're at rest?" Michael asked, looking at his handiwork.
Sammy liked to think they were burning in Hell. "I'm sure they are, Michael." he said instead. "They're free from the curse."
"Free." Michael tasted the word on his tongue and found it as sweet as the 'wine' David had tricked him into drinking. "Yeah, they're free now." At long last, something settled in Michael.
Sammy wanted to cheer. He knew it wasn’t over completely. Michael would have the same struggles he and Mom were having. The nightmares, the doubts. But now Michael wasn’t being split in two anymore and Sammy would tend to these cenotaphs for the rest of his life if it helped his brother move on.