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Secret Fires by konel

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Story Notes:
Pairing: David/Michael, PAST Michael/Star, David/Star
Warnings: Blood, Gore, Drugs, Sex, Explicit Language. Rate NC-17
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Not an hour has passed and yet Grandpa Emerson, in his haste, is loading the bodies of the boys and their sire into his truck. Not a falter in his step, a sight of unease to his face. He hoists each still body up, tossing them into the bed of his car, as if they were merely a sack of festering week-old garbage.

Michael Emerson watches from the sidelines as he spits on them for good measure, like he’s done this town a good service. Maybe he has, maybe he hasn't. Michael knows he believes he’s rid Santa Carla of what he considers to be true scum of the earth. After all, they are a dark force that has no place among them, a darkness that makes even the light hide and weep.

You see these boys, these seemingly so young boys, paid a harsh price for a life of immortality, O’ glorious immortality.

They gave their lives, were asked to embrace death and reject life, and before life had even begun for them.

“Sleep all day. Party all night. Never grow old. Never die. It’s fun to be a vampire.” This is what they were promised, what they desired. And who wouldn't, I ask? Any young girl or guy at Michael’s age would at least be tempted, would they not? Oh with them being the stereotypical, under-developed, dumb, reckless, and hormonal angst-ridden teenagers. Well the slogan rang true, for a while at least.

In the long run, however, immortality in return became unkind. After what they gave up, it still transformed them. Took the boys and morphed them into a picture of Satan, in the form of that of a child.

Beautiful and mesmerizing, “vampires” are. Yes, truly beautiful, yet killers all the same. They murder, to cling to the very thing they give up. Drink the blood of the innocent, to sate the hunger and the thrill, to ultimately tame the beast inside of them. It was sick, and Michael refused to partake in any part of it. His body, no—his entire being lashed out and rejected it, even while the demon’s blood flowed through his very veins.

Yeah, Michael knows all this because he was once one of them. Half of what they were, at least. He refused to participate in the traditional “first-kill” that turned you completely. It was never his idea to embrace immortality, however. Got suckered into handing over my soul is what he’d like to say happened.
You see, Michael Emerson was the new kid on the boardwalk. A young punk—a senior in High school from Arizona, with hopes to take up a minimum wage job in this quaint little California town. Had an idea to fix up his bike and get himself a sleek leather jacket, maybe find a summer love, you know with it being a new territory and all.

That first night on the boardwalk you could say he got more than he originally bargained for. It all happened so fast, it starting with a pretty young thing—Star, a beautiful young girl that suited his taste. Come to find out later she was merely bait for Michael, and he was the prey. Well, she being as pretty as she was, he definitely fell easily into the hands of the demon. Trotted after the girl like the dumb, love-sick puppy he was, and straight into the circle of The Lost Boys.

No matter the pain these memories bring he’ll never forget the first time he saw them, the first time he saw him. He was beautiful, striking white-blond hair, fierce blue eyes, all clad in leather, with a bad-ass smirk to match the look. He had it all, everything Michael had ever desired in his grasp. Trivial things he supposed—Looks, friends, a bike, doe-eyed Star. His name Michael came to know, oh very well, was David. David, the definition of cool, the king of this world’s undead.
Even now Michael can still feel the bond, the influence these fuckers had on him. The blood he drank from him may have sealed the deal, but it was this unnerving pull these boys had that had led him astray, left him to his own demise. Of course, he is no longer a vampire. What, with Max, the sire being killed. When the head vampire goes, they all fall with him, and Michael, Star, and Laddie had been set free.

This was just how it had to be. Michael was just simply not a Lost Boy. He had a great family, a future, and a new love.

No, never a Lost Boy. Never was, and never would be.
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