How did the Lost Boys come to be? What did David really do once he discovered his sire had left him? Follows my fic ‘Blood Child: Beginnings’ but tells it from the Boys points of view. What was it like for them?
Blood Child: Origins of Rebirth
Paul ran hid fingers through his long blond hair, glancing at the many tourists wandering the Boardwalk as he did so. Why was he here? Pretty simple really. He’d ran. Like most of the teens or kids that attracted some kind of trouble he’d done the thing that seemed the most obvious at the time. Run.
He was hungry, as he had only scrounged enough money days ago for a meagre meal. Sighing, he continued his walk on this cold night, the stars no visible due to the many flashing lights of various rides and vendors.
The people didn’t seem to notice him, to look past him as if he wasn’t there. He was used to this though. He was used to the stares he got from some people, mostly guys from gangs. All he had were the clothes on his back, not much really and a pang of fear ran through him as another gang spotted him from afar. It was safe to say that they didn’t like what they saw.
These guys were looking for a little fun, although their meaning of the word ‘fun’ was to basically kick the shit out of some random guy. And these were big guys. Very big guys. They were taller than Paul, but built bigger, muscles clinging to their bones.
The leader and his gang surrounded him and Paul knew that he didn’t have a chance. One against twelve weren’t very good odds. As the first fist contacted with his face he abandoned all hope that he could get out of this. It was hopeless. Fists made contact with shoulders, torso and face, breaking the skin with their large hands. Blood dripped down Paul’s pale form as he lost consciousness, purple-black bruises marring his face and body.
Content with the damage they had caused, the gang ambled off, looking to terrorise more of the populace. Paul lay on the sands, the remoteness of his location meaning that he might not be found at all.
A figure swooped down towards the unmoving mortal, raven hair blowing in the cool breeze. He bent over the still form, checking the pulse before lifting him into his arms, careful not to damage the youth further as he flew back to safety of the cave.
David sat were he usually did, comfortable but tense. He’d swore that he’d seen his sire here, sure that he felt the old power. And he was angry. Angry that his sire didn’t want to speak to him, come see him. After all, David was his first Childe. First true child, one that was an equal and not just a minion. Angry that his sire didn’t want to see the life that he had made for himself.
He shook his head, thinking this deeply wasn’t good for him, he preferred to act rather that to reminisce. It was his job as Master Vampire to protect himself and his Childe Dwayne.
On the edge of his senses he felt the familiar aura of his Childe, and another. Mortal. He could almost smell the hot blood; almost taste the youth’s mortality. Dwayne stepped into the safety of the cave, the limp and bleeding body of a mortal in his arms. David rose, watching as Dwayne placed the mortals’ body on the floor in the centre of the cave, which just so happened to be in front of David.
Cerulean eyes skimmed over bruises marring pale and smooth skin. He traced a particularly nasty bruise on the youths cheekbone before turning his gaze to Dwayne. The raven haired vampire simply nodded and David knelt down beside the teen.
Wrapping his arms around the shoulders, David supported the limp body in his arms before sinking his fangs into the neck. Hot blood rushed into him, sating an old and ancient thirst, drinking the red, coppery liquid until the heart almost stopped beating.
Drawing away David was touched by how beautiful the mortal was. Beautiful in the sense that he was alive, not just in body but in spirit; he had felt it as he had drunk the lifeblood. Something so similar. This mortal reminded him of someone.
David sighed as he looked upon this mortal. His name was Paul that was much that he’d picked up from the youths mind. Dwayne was looking at him, the body of this mortal, and soon his gaze met with that of his sires’.
David took one last look, before tearing open his wrist and placing at the youth’s mouth. Now was not the time for the ceremonial bottle. Pain laced through him as he felt Paul draw the blood from the wound, reflexively drinking David’s infested blood.
With a yell of pain David pulled away, panting harshly as Paul’s body became paler still, and the heartbeat began to slow. He turned to Dwayne, who now knelt beside him and wiped away a single tear that had fallen.
He was weak, too weak. And he couldn’t show that weakness to his newest Childe when he awoke. He had to be strong, for his family, his sire, and for himself. And as the sun began to sink below the horizon, both vampires retreated into the cool dark, the body of Paul now laying on one of the canopy beds in the corner, lifeless and still upon the bed sheets.
Paul reminded David of someone that had once been a constant in his life, someone that was full of life and vigour. He would protect this one, with his heart and his soul, and he would keep his family safe, for that was what a Master Vampire should do.