Chapter Text
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Dwayne groaned, covering his ears. He felt around for the source of the noise, wanting nothing more than to sink back into the nest of blankets and pillo-
He went to sleep hanging from the rafters.
They don’t use an alarm clock.
Dwayne threw off the covers. He wasn’t in the cave. The room he found himself in was small, with baby blue walls and a TV stacked with VHS tapes. A desk with papers filed into neat binders sat to his left, sunlight pouring through the slots of the blinds. The room's details were hard to make out. It was like his vision was blurred.
The vampire began to panic. His heart was beating out of his chest, anxiety pounding in his head. He couldn’t get out right now! He was stuck!
He sprang to his feet and almost immediately lost his balance. He gripped a nightstand with white knuckles. He felt… taller? His head hurt. He probably wasn’t thinking straight.
Where even was he? He wanted to look out the window to get his bearings, but the threat of the sun complicated things.
What he needed to do was calm down. He breathed. In and out and in and out and
A realization hit Dwayne like a semi-truck.
He didn’t need to breathe as a vampire. Yet, he felt like his lungs were gasping for air. His heart was beating. It hasn’t done that in over 20 years.
“Holy shit.”
That wasn’t his voice. Oh… OH!
Dwayne scrambled around till he saw an open door leading to a small bathroom. He raced inside, almost hitting the back wall. He gripped the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
This wasn’t his body.
The boy looking back at him had striking red hair. Freckles dotted his pale skin like a constellation of stars. The sleep shirt he wore hung off him at an awkward angle, revealing a slim neckline and small shoulders. Big green eyes stared back at him.
Dwayne knew who this was. The events from the night prior flooded his brain, making him cringe. The fight. The store.
The (former) vampire snatched the glasses off the bedside table and rifled through the drawers filled with collared shirts and button-ups. He put on the first thing he could find, struggling not to look at himself while dressing.
He hobbled out the door. The summer heat blasted down on him. His body instinctively flinched.
He didn’t burn.
The bird chirped, singing a cheery tune. People chatted as they made their way down the sidewalk. Someone was playing music out of an open window.
For just a moment, Dwayne let himself stop. He missed this. Long sleepless days staring as the sun seeped in through a crack in the stone walls. He missed the days when he got up at the crack of dawn to catch the perfect wave, watching the sun rise over the water.
But losing the sun was worth it. He had his brothers now. He had power.
It wasn’t something he could dwell on now.
Dwayne dragged an old, red bike out to the road and began his journey to Video Max.
—-
The last thing Pete expected was to wake up upside down.
He screamed, struggling in the air till whatever was holding his feet let go. He braced to hit the ground hard.
Then he was right side up, on his feet. How? He had no freaking clue!
It was dark. There was no sunlight. He could see with perfect clarity. Walls of stone and metal loomed over him. He could hear water drip down from the ceiling. Something smelled like decay.
“Dwayne, what the fuck?”
A guy landed right next to him. Pete jumped back, yelping in surprise. The tall guy furrowed his brows. Pete knew this guy. He was a part of the Lost Boys; the drummer. Max said never to hang out with these guys. He was already on thin ice with Dwayne.
Speaking of which, where was Dwayne?
Paul snapped his fingers at him. “Earth to Dwayne.” He looked genuinely concerned.
“Where’s Dwayne?” Pete asked. “How did I get here?” He didn’t want to panic, not in front of them.
Another body landed next to him, almost making Pete jump into Paul. Jesus, when did Paul get so tall? And where did they come from?
The guitarist exchanged a look with Paul. “You okay, man?” Marko saddled forward, giving Pete a look down.
“I’m fine! I just want to know what’s going on.” Pete was getting annoyed at this point. “What did you do to me?”
“Aww, Dwayne had a nightmare.” A voice echoed from above. Pete watched as the leather-clad lead singer FLOATED down from the sky. “Rough night, eh, Dwayne?” David threw an arm around Pete’s shoulders, acting like he didn’t just pull some superhero shit.
Pete flung the blonde’s arm off of him. “WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!?” He cried, stumbling away from the three, now tall, band mates. “Why do you keep calling me Dwayne?”
He wanted to cry; the situation was just that insane. He put a hand to his chest, trying to steady himself.
There wasn’t a pulse.
Oh God, he was in Hell.
Pete did the only thing he could: run.
He sprinted. His chest didn’t burn. It was like he had infinite stamina. He dodged cracks and rocks, listening out for the sounds of life. The mouth of the cave lay up ahead. The dying rays of day called to him.
Hiss! His skin felt like it was on fire. He gasped, his brain not fully processing what was happening. Pete just watched as the skin on his hand bubbled and blistered, skin sliding off. It didn’t hurt as much as Pete thought it would.
Marko yanked his arm back. “Dwayne, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
“STOP CALLING ME THAT!” Pete screamed. The three men looked so confused and concerned. They had never shown Pete this level of respect and compassion.
A lock of hair fell over his eye. It was blonde, almost silver in color. Pete pulled at it. It stuck. He felt his head and found that his hair was a lot longer than it had been last night.
“Where’s the mirror?”
That definitely wasn’t his voice. It was firm and deeper.
David crossed his arms over his chest. “The only one we have is in the bathroom. Don’t use the one in the kitchen. It has silver.”
Pete nodded, then scuffled away. He didn’t know where the bathroom was! He passed through room after room, silently praying the band wasn’t following him.
There was a glint that caught his eye. He backed up, looking at the source. A mirror. The room it was in didn’t look like a kitchen or a bathroom. It smelled like rot and iron.
It made his mouth water.
Focus!
Pete had no reflection. He waved a hand around. No dice. Wait, his hand. It was completely normal. There was no sign of the burn.
The puzzle showed a terrible, grizzly truth.
Pete dashed down the hall into a side room. It was covered in hair supplies: spray, dye, combs, and a curling iron. Didn’t matter. It had a mirror he could see himself in. It was cracked, but the reflection was instantly recognizable.
Pete covered his mouth to stop the scream that threatened to escape his throat.
Not only did he switch bodies with him, but Pete realized in that moment that the man he loved was a god damned vampire.