Vamps Behaving Badly

Title - Vamps Behaving Badly.
Author - Rina
Rating - R to begin with, NC-17 later chapters.
Disclaimer - Don't own the Boys. Wish I did. Warner Bros and Joel Schumacher do.

Summary - What if Star did what David wanted and made her first kill of Michael Emerson, instead of falling in love with him? What if Sam, his mom and Nanook fled the creepy beachside town and moved back to Phoenix, therefore none of the same events occurred as in the movie? What if the vamps didn’t meet grisly ends at the hands of the Frog Brothers and all are still very much alive, or rather, undead? What if Laddie stayed with the gang and grew up? What if Max got tired of his Boys misbehaving and relocated to another town and found himself a nice wife, promptly making a new well-mannered vampire family, only this time with easier-to-control girls? What if the pack was left to their own devices with no head vampire to control them?


WARNING - If you’re expecting a nice romantic little Star/David fic, please go back now before you’re traumatised for life! This Alternate Universe series is full of SEX and VIOLENCE, it’s full of SLASH, (boy/boy pairings), but it is also loaded with HET (boy/girl pairings) too. If either of these match-ups aren’t what you like to read in your fic then you’re shit outta luck, bud, so go read something else. Only continue if you are broad-minded enough to accept ALL forms of sex between all forms of couples. If you’ve read my other Lost Boys fic ‘Initiation’ and ‘Little Lost Boy’, then you have some idea of the bloody depravity you’re in for! ;)

Author’s note: There are NO original characters, no unfamiliar faces. I am only using the characters in the movie and moulding them to fit into my warped Lost Boys universe, including my versions of Vampire Star and grown-up Laddie. Yes, STAR features heavily. While I know Star is not everyone’s favourite character, I do think that if she was a full vampire she’d be a lot cooler. That’s what I’ve done with her here. Given her some fuckin’ balls and a taste for blood!

If you’re still reading, step inside the cave! Join us. Be one of us…

Prologue.

The story is set six years later. Because she killed Michael, Star is a changed woman, sassier and sexier, and has come to accept the blood-drinking lifestyle, even enjoying it. Laddie waited until he matured physically and passed puberty before he made his first kill otherwise he would have been stuck in the body of a ten year old boy for all eternity. On the night of his sixteenth birthday was when he tasted human blood for the first time. And he liked it. He is a valuable member of The Lost Boys and a handsome young man, although Star still clucks over him in a motherly way. The fang gang are still flying around Santa Carla, terrorising the locals, riding their motorcycles and feeding on anyone stupid enough to be out in the open at night time. The surf Nazi gang that used to wage war on the boys have long been wiped out. The Frog Brothers realised they had bigger fish to fry than trying to eradicate a small, insignificant vampire motorcycle pack so they went to the root of the problem, Washington, where ghouls, vamps and werewolves were high-ranking members of parliament and there they began their own monster slaying business, happily exploding and imploding the enemy, playing big-boy Rambo and getting paid for it. Grandpa is still stuffing animals and wearing Windex while wooing the widow Johnson.

The Lost Boys still rule the town of Santa Carla, murder capital of the world.


***

Part 1.

The vampire gang was walking along the sandy shore line after feeding on a bunch of hapless people camping on the beach further up. It was a typical violent Lost Boys feeding frenzy, with blood spurting everywhere, scalps torn off and corpses dismembered and thrown onto the campfire as well as into the ocean itself, bobbing in the waves like misshapen buoys. Since she was the only girl and cared about the state of her clothes, Star had perfected the technique of feeding without making a mess, cleanly and efficiently, but the guys revelled in it like pigs in mud. They didn’t just like to kill; they loved it. When they boys fed, it was a like a pack of rabid dogs upon a small flock of sheep. Five minutes earlier, they had all washed their faces, throats and hands in the sea, rinsing off the blood and gore. Everybody was sated and their bellies were sloshing with red fluid. They were making their way back to the sunken hotel before the sun came up. David was the only member not present. He had taken a trip to Los Gatos to visit Max and The Lost Girls, as Max referred to his four adopted vampire daughters. He sold the Santa Carla video shop and opened a huge new store there, in Los Gatos, and he and his undead wife Beverley ran it. Max seemed contented playing Dad to his girls while the boys were happy he wasn’t bugging them anymore. He used to be a shoulder-pad wearing killjoy when he was in Santa Carla, always telling them what to do, what not to do. The other guys just thought he was a massive dork and liked annoying him but David was hatching a secret plan to stake Max and get rid of him so that he could be the head vamp.

Though Max had created him and they shared a teacher/student bond, David didn’t dig being the understudy. He didn’t want to be second or follow commands. He wanted to branch out on his own. Because Max didn’t have the charisma or the street-cred that David did, he had given the peroxided teen-vamp orders to recruit new members for the pack. While David had done so, he had also deliberately chosen boys that were not meek or docile, but headstrong rebels, boys that would listen to him instead of Max, boys that he could take control of, planning on launching a full-scale attack on Max’s house to destroy him. Max was an elder and very powerful so David would have needed as many boys as possible to back him up if he was going to succeed. But since David let his jealousy override his orders and made Star kill Michael instead of recruiting him and Sam into the pack, Max had lost his chance to make their mother Lucy his wife and as such had given up on disobedient David and the wayward boys, taking his hell-hound Thorne and high-tailing it out of town. As he had gone to Los Gatos, essentially leaving David in charge, there was no need to kill him anymore. David was top dog around Santa Carla and that’s just the way he preferred it. It was funny but David got along better than ever with Max now that he was in another city and made these little visits on a twice-yearly basis to catch up with his former mentor and father figure. He also dug the attention Max’s four enchanting daughters paid him, even though they were kind of like his step-sisters. Not that he was ever gonna tell Star that.

It was now defunct but David hadn’t kept his Max-extermination plan to himself. He let Dwayne in on the scheme because Dwayne was David’s lieutenant and he knew the Indian hated Max’s guts. It used to be visible in Dwayne’s eyes, when the gang went into the video store to pester Max and Maria. If looks could kill, Max would have imploded on the spot. There was something about those opaque plastic-framed glasses Max wore that grated on Dwayne’s nerves. Additionally, the guy had bad teeth as well as bad taste. He’d wear two types of different-coloured checks at once! Anyone with an eye for fashion would know that was a no-no but not Max. Max was the most unfashionable, unattractive man he’d ever met and Dwayne wondered who the fuck made him a head vampire. What kind of vampire owned a frigging VIDEO store anyway? He was a disgrace to their race, whining about them keeping in line and being well-behaved. What’s the point of being a blood-drinker if they couldn’t have a little fun? They didn’t need a father, like Max had kept saying. Or a mother. They loved being feral and having the freedom to do whatever they wanted. Like that night. Max wouldn’t have been pleased with them slaughtering more mortals in such a slapdash, haphazard way but he wasn’t there, was he? And neither was David. Without their ruthless leader there to intimidate them, the boys were feeling lighter and freer, bubbling with mischief.

Before they fed, the pack had hidden their bikes in their usual spot, a small cave in a rock wall on the other side of the buried hotel they called their home. They couldn’t ride their bikes right into the hotel – apart from some rickety wooden stairs and a footbridge there was no way for them to get across and into it, unless they wanted to fly their motorcycles over which was a gargantuan pain in the ass, so they had to keep their machines somewhere handy for them to use at dusk when they awoke from their day-long sleep. They always flew out of the old hotel, over the ocean to get to the parking cave, started their bikes and then rode up the beach to wherever it was they wanted to go, usually the boardwalk to hang out, eat Chinese food, smoke and harass humans. It was a fun life and nobody really bothered them. Even the security guards gave them a wide berth, knowing how their buddies tended to disappear whenever they tried to bustle the motorcycle-riding punks off the boardwalk. There was something about those boys that gave them the heebie-jeebies. They figured it was better to leave the kids be than end up another picture tacked to the Missing Person’s board.

As they leisurely strolled along the beach, feeling too bloated and lazy to fly, Dwayne, who was in command when David was absent, headed the pack, arguing with Marko over whether his lairy patchwork jacket was just too last decade to wear now. Dwayne’s view was that the clothes would give him away as being a vamp and not only that, he was stuck in a time warp. The 80’s were over, man. Marko had astutely cut off the unflattering kinked rat-tails of his hair, leaving the lovely golden curls on top, tossed out the Village People cowboy chaps he used to wear over his jeans, the fingerless hobo gloves and the questionable, navel-revealing crop-tops but he obstinately refused to give the jacket up, even though Dwayne, Paul and David had changed their usual attire to fit in with the times. Dwayne swapped his bare-chested black jacket and jeans male-stripper look for leather pants and a form-fitting red top that showed off the build of his torso and conveniently hid any traces of blood. Since he was a Native American and the vainest of the group, he wanted to keep his glossy black hair long and often pulled it back into a ponytail. With the new threads and polished appearance, he looked like a top-class hustler and if he was ever short of dough, he could always become an escort and hire his tanned ass to the lonely, dateless women of Santa Carla who, incidentally, thought he was quite a fox.

Paul had reluctantly given up the filthy motorcycle pants and knee-length boots but instead of choosing the lame high-waisted, pleated trousers and bright-coloured collared shirts that were all the rage in the early 90’s, he went for timeless faded blue jeans, Doc Marten boots and a denim jacket over a tight white tank top. The tank tops were something from the past decade he’d clung onto and had a whole stack of them back in the cave. He liked the way they showed off his toned arms. Investing in some serious anti-frizz serum, Paul kept his hair long also, the smoothing product making his mane much less crazy and bouffant than before. Star made him buy it after she discovered how it tamed her out-of-control brunette corkscrew tresses. There just wasn’t enough room in the batcave for two lots of big hair, plus the Twisted Sister look was seriously dated. With his new sleeker, straighter blond locks, blue eyes and denim, Paul still looked like the surfer he was, though he only surfed at night.

David had lost the porcupine mullet and the moth-eaten calf-length coat but, like a typical vampire gang leader, he still preferred to wear all black and the colour, or lack of it, highlighted his chalk-white skin and the short stubble growing on his jaw, chin and upper lip. He clipped off the straggly bits of hair at the back of his neck and with a bit of styling gel his platinum ‘do was more Billy Idol than Billy Ray Cyrus. He discarded the earring and replaced it with a tongue ring, mostly for Star’s benefit. For all his neater, trendier, artier appearance, the boys knew underneath that David was still the same cold-blooded killer he’d always been and they never lost their awe and respect for him. He could still reduce them all to quivering piles of pudding with one piercing look. All the boys had gotten rid of the excess jewellery, rings and bracelets but they still had earrings, just not the dangly 80’s type they used to favour. Marko had a simple diamond stud, Paul had a silver ring and Dwayne sported a ruby teardrop in his lobe. To match his red top, of course. The costumes and the hair might have modified but the boys were still unchanged inside.

Star had also moved with the times and updated her wardrobe but she still retained a preference for Gypsy-inspired outfits, usually an embroidered, beaded top with flared jeans or suede pants and pointed-toe boots. She also splashed out on a tiny semi-precious stud for her nose. Her earrings were the chandelier type, lots of swinging crystals and silverwork. Seeing as she was surrounded by guys every day, she turned a tad tomboyish and tended to avoid wearing skirts or dresses like she used to. Anyway, it was easier to fly when she didn’t have skirts billowing up around her ears and showing everyone her underwear. Much more dignified too. The old Star used to wear skirts every day of the week but she wasn’t her anymore. She didn’t even recognise that person and would never want to be that person again. That person, the old Star, was not very likeable and she freely admitted it. She was a whiny, scared little bitch. But no more. Becoming a full vampire was the best thing she ever did. Being a kickass night-stalker beats being a weak, snivelling half-human. This way, she got to stay young and beautiful and tough forever. Nobody fucked with her now. Because she killed and fed along with them, the boys didn’t treat her like an unimportant girl as they once did in the past. Sometimes, they overstepped their mark and reverted to cheekiness but on the whole they normally treated her like their equal. They treated her like one of the boys and she liked it that way. She couldn’t believe that once upon a time she wanted to take Laddie and run away from the pack. That was before she accepted what she really was and where she belonged. She belonged here, with the pack and would never leave them now. The cave was her home. The boys were her family. David was her leader.

She was still lovers with David but cracks were starting to show in their relationship. It started when he made her kill Michael. True, she had to kill SOMEONE to become a full vamp but why did it have to be that particular boy? He was a major hunk, with curly brown hair and indigo eyes and a body to die for. When they met on the boardwalk, there were instant sparks between them and because of her he was subsequently drawn into the pack. At the time, Star didn’t want Michael to become what she was, a confused, conflicted half-vamp and she tried to warn him of what was happening. Dismissing her warnings, Michael had swilled David’s blood out of the bottle and the initiation had begun. Witnessing Star’s increasing infatuation with the newcomer and not liking it at all, David decided to get even with her and told her she had to kill him. She didn’t want to but in the end she obeyed and did it, one night when Michael came looking for her in the cave. He was upset and demanded to know what was happening to him. Understanding the warring emotions that he was dealing with, she wanted to make love to him but instead of doing that, she let her bloodlust take over, sank her teeth into his throat and drained him dry. She killed him. She killed him because that’s what David wanted. Discovering how liberating and empowering being a fully-fledged vampire was, Star had no regrets about making her first kill. Except for one. And it was a big one. That it had to be Michael Emerson. She often wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t done it. She felt that she and Michael could have fallen in love and been very happy together. She cared for David a great deal but knew deep inside that he wasn’t the one for her; that he wasn’t her soul mate. To be truthful, the cracks were showing long before she met Michael. David was highly possessive and could be very cruel and cold towards her. Meeting gentle, caring Michael had given her a glimpse of what her future could be like. It made her believe that there was possibly another man out there that she was meant to be with and it wasn’t David. She could have had a wonderful life with Michael.

But she’d never know now. Michael was dead. And perhaps it worked out better anyway. Perhaps if she HAD fallen in love with Michael and not killed him, things would have turned out drastically different and not in a good way. What if her falling for Michael had thrown the whole pack into disarray? Perhaps she WOULD have taken Laddie and run away with Michael. At the betrayal, David would have come after them and slaughtered the whole three of them. She’d be dead and so would Laddie. Or it could have jack-knifed in the other direction. Perhaps in trying to help her and Laddie, Michael and Sam could have enlisted the services of the infamous Frog brothers and killed everyone in the gang. Perhaps her actions could have meant the end for David and the boys. Perhaps she could have been responsible for their very deaths!

Again, she’d never know.

That was ancient history and it was no use dwelling upon. It was over with and couldn’t be repaired. This was her present and honestly, it wasn’t an unpleasant one. Her life of darkness was enviable and many a human would kill for it. Not only was she immortal and could fly but she was part of a close, protective and wildly fun vampire coven. Though she was undead, she wasn’t DEAD dead and neither was Laddie or any of them. They still had pulses so that was enough proof of life, however unconventional their lives were. Star was unspeakably glad she hadn’t caused any of the boys to die. She loved all of them with all of her heart. They were her kindred. Her siblings. She smiled as she looked at the younger male loping along beside her.

Laddie Thompson. Once a big-toothed, unremarkable little boy, he’d grown into a tall, beautiful sixteen year old with a lean body, shoulder blade-length brown hair and perfectly-proportioned features. With his photogenic looks and beguiling cobalt eyes, he could have been an actor in a teen soapie or a mannequin for Calvin Klein underwear. Dwayne the Indian was the dark, sultry, handsome one, pint-sized Marko with his cherubic, round-eyed face was the angelic one, and Paul with his tall frame, male-model facial bones and stunning blue-grey eyes was the pretty one. Or at least he had been until Laddie grew into his teeth.

***

To be continued...Here's how it works: You tell me you want more, I give you more. Simple. :)