Disclaimer: I do not own Lost Boys nor reap any benefit.

This is...complicated, ironically. It's not like anything I've ever written before and I don't really know how to handle it.

I like it though...I hope you do too!

"Edgar, so help me God, you better open this door."

Sam had the routine down to a pat. He would pull up to Edgar's trailer every day around noon, sometimes a little later because he was an important guy, he had things to take care of. But still, he always came in nice blue car as the sun beat down on the scrap of metal that imprisoned his best friend.

"I'll give you to the count of three, bub," Sam warned again, lowering his head while he spoke, as if it made him the slightest more intimidating.

Edgar never answered. He'd knock three times, always three, but Edgar never answered. Then Sam would get back in his car, nice and toasty from the sun's rays and drive home until six, when he would return and knock to no avail.

Then he'd go home only to do it again in the morning.

To be frank, Sam had gotten sick of the routine. He had gotten sick of losing to Edgar's stubborn attitude and having the door to his trailer permanently cemented against him.

So as the hot sun resumed the position of heating the outside of Sam's car, Sam continued pounding his fist against the door.

"I'm not going anywhere, Edgar," he shouted with a determined relaxed attitude. "We can do this all night, buddy. You're coming out of there eventually."

This time there wasn't even movement, the house remained stationary.

"Fine, fine…I see how it is," Sam surrendered, backtracking down the stairs, his eyes still planted on the steel door, wearing the bright red marking that read "Danger: Keep Out".

And there was danger inside, just not of the violent variety. He knew Edgar had lost Alan to vampires months ago, just abruptly taken form his life.

There hadn't been a trace of him, like he never even existed. Edgar had told Sam that much when he'd originally gotten back, when his eyes had been downcast and hollow, caught in the eerie yellow glow of the dim lighting of his trailer.

And then Sam had tried to come back, but the door was closed, shutting Edgar off from the world that he believed had completely betrayed him.

Yes, there was danger that lurked behind that door, but not the kind of danger one expected. It was more of a self-destructive kind of danger.

One wrong word that Sam let slip past his chapped, trembling lips could send Edgar into the break down that was hindering behind the cold steel walls. His slip of the tongue could shatter Edgar's protective glass shield easily.

Yes, there was danger, but Sam was willing to do anything for his friend. He owed him that much, if not more.

And Sam stood, with his hands in his pockets, a few feet from the door-giving the illusion he was gone. Edgar was perceptive, but even he had to check to make sure Sam was gone out of some human politeness embedded into his instinct. And Sam had positioned himself just so so that if Edgar looked out the window, he wouldn't be able to see him.

Opening the door was the only way to prove Sam had actually left him in his solitude. Sam couldn't help but give a sideways smile to his cleverness.

It was rare when he could outwit Edgar.

Sure enough, the door of the little trailer opened-at first a sliver which eventually evolved into a full six inches of blackness, of the emptiness of the trailer.

Like an animal, Sam pounced-slamming his palm on the door, holding it open. His old jeans scraped along the dirt as he thrusted his entire being into keeping the door open-not that Edgar was trying to fight him and slam it shut. He seemed more surprised that Sam was even still there waiting for him.

Sam looked up at Edgar, trying his best to wear a smile over his gasps for air. He was out of shape, he noted with a deep inhalation as he looked up at Edgar. His friend looked the same, he knew it was Edgar, but something was different. He looked tired and unkempt; he had stubble on his face, his long blonde hair was greasy, pulled back from his face with a thin rubber band. He had dark circles under his eyes, noticeable even as he stood in his doorway, cast in shadow.

"I thought you left," he whispered, his voice confused-like Sam could never have tricked him, fooled the vampire hunter.

"Gotchya," Sam said over his gasps, pushing himself off the ground, keeping his hand firmly on the door. He kept his eyes on his friend. "Can I come in?"

"Nothing ever stopped you," Edgar muttered, retreating into the shadows and leaving the door open for Sam. Sam quickly jumped into his home, shutting the door behind him.

Phase one complete, now to jump right into phase two.

"Okay, Eddie," Sam encouraged jokingly, clapping his hands together as his fallen friend sat back on his bed. Sam tugged on the blinds, tearing them open and filling the room with light.

Edgar winced, Sam smiled at him sadly. "It's time to let some day in here."

"Is that why you came?" Edgar muttered, looking at his friend through angry, skeptic eyes. "To open my curtains?"

"First of all, these are blinds," Sam offered lightly before taking a seat across from Edgar on a squeaky, old chair. He kept smiling at his friend gently, shrugging his shoulders. "And secondly, it was also to shed some light on your situation."

Edgar was highly unamused. "Don't you have better things to do then come in here and be a fucking comedian?" he sneered, not taking his eyes off of Sam, though there was no anger inside of him.

Just a desperate, saddened desire for Sam to leave him alone in his darkness, allowing him to brood in peace. But Sam was not one to back down when he knew he was needed.

Even if Edgar didn't want him around, he needed him.

"No, you appreciate my humor, or you did," Sam offered as Edgar laid back down, his silent way of dismissing Sam from his duties of being a friend.

Sam sighed, sitting on the corner of Edgar's shitty, old bed. He was almost scared the thing would snap and both of them would fall to the floor.

It fit it's owner-hard, worn-and would crumble at the slightest pressure.

"I came to check on you," Sam asserted gently, lightly patting his friend's leg. He cracked a small smile. "You can't even fucking call a guy?"

"Fuck you," Edgar shot back, not moving away from Sam's touch but clearly not accepting it. "I haven't called because I don't want company?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sorry to interrupt your fortress of solitude, Batman, just felt the world could do with some sav-"

"Shut up," Edgar muttered, his voice defeated as he closed his eyes, the mere hinting of the word ripping at his brain, tearing through his memories of darkness that had filled his months like a rabid beast. Flashes of red, of white-of everything to the soundtrack of growls and screams.

The ferocious monster clawed at his brain and his eyes, almost jubilantly.

"Don't fucking say that word."

Sam put his hands up in defeat, nodding once or twice. "Okay, okay…you win, bud." He sighed, looking at the mass on the bed, searching for any sign of life, of hope. "But you should at least go outside. It's nice out."

He would have mentioned how Edgar was looking a little pale, but he was scared it was too sensitive of a subject.

"There's nothing out there for me," Edgar muttered in reply, slowly opening his eyes, looking at the streams of sunlight through the cracks in his blinds. He bent his knees, drawing them a little towards his chest. Only his own body heat kept him warm, gave him comfort in the cold world that he was stuck in.

He'd lost all feeling in himself, he just lived in a constant state of confusion. Every breath he took felt forced, almost scripted, as he tried to figure out what was going on around him. He felt hollow, chapped and broken, just lying in wait for things to return to normal and to make sense again.

"Thought you'd say that," Sam offered, pushing himself off of the bed and sitting back in his little chair. "Look, man, I just came to talk with you and make sure you're alive."

"I don't want to," Edgar stammered, still watching the sunlight trickle through the blinds.

Sam chuckled abruptly, adjusting his jacket in the awkwardness of the situation. "Don't-don't want to what?" Sam inquired, sitting up in his seat and pulling at the wrinkles in his coat. The bed creaked as Edgar rolled over onto his back. The chair snapped under Sam.

The fan kept whirring in his trailer. Sam coughed into his hand.

"Nothing," Edgar grumbled, quickly pushing himself into a sitting situation. He looked over at Sam, his eyes unreadable and stained with a fake confidence that Sam couldn't even see through fully. "I just don't want to talk."

Sam irked an eyebrow. "That attitude's not scaring anybody."

"Why not?"

Sam laughed lightly, leaning back slightly onto the bed. "Please, Edgar. You couldn't scare me if you tried anymore. You're old," he offered with a shrug. "You've become predictable."

Edgar sighed at the pathetic gesture of humor. He looked down at Sam and rolled his eyes.

"You haven't even seen me for about four months. How could you know me so well?"

Sam shrugged. "We're friends."

Edgar pushed himself out of the bed, completely avoiding eye contact with Sam as he brushed by him and went to his fridge. "Things change. People change."

"You, my friend, never-"

"I've changed," Edgar asserted roughly, turning and giving Sam an emotional stare that seemed almost cemented on Edgar's face, like he was still made out of stone.

Sam was silent. Edgar continued.

"Everyone changes, you said so yourself," he whispered spitefully, running his hand over the bumps in the old, cracked wood plank that represented a mantle in his shitty home. There were photos that lined the thing, old trinkets and memories that smelled like dust and mold.

Things changed, even memories. What good were they if change was inevitable and everything became tainted with time?

Edgar sighed shakily, sucking in his lower lip and biting down on the skin so hard he felt it pull. What good was life if change was inevitable?

Sam nodded slowly, thinking of a new plan on the spot; anything to coax his friend back into the real world, away from this little metal prison.

"How was the move back?" Sam asked calmly.

"Fine," Edgar muttered, his voice wet with tears and a feigned gruffness. He turned and looked back at his friend. "Nobody wanted to buy this piece of shit."

"I like it," Sam said politely, kicking his foot on the ground. "It's, um," he looked at the dust covered floor, the old shag carpet that was frayed on the edges.

The whole place had this musty smell, this sweat and blood scent mixed in with something that smelled like burning carpet. It almost made the place homey, but not enough for Sam. This seemed more like a sentence than an enjoyable stay, more like the creepy motel room from psycho.

His eyes darted to the opposite corner of the room, where he was sure he had just seen some furry, little life form crawl for safety.

He swallowed. "Cozy."

Edgar looked around the place with a skeptic eye, then back at Sam.

"If cozy is the new slang for piece of shit, then…yeah, I guess," he muttered, peering out the blinds again, looking for something or someone to provide a distraction, to give Sam an excuse to leave him alone and let him brood.

Again, the dead feeling took over his body, and he wondered quickly who would ever come to see him, besides Sam.

"How's your family?" Edgar asked quickly, tearing away from the blinds so quickly they rattled.

"Dead," Sam answered coolly, looking up at Edgar with wide grey eyes, inviting him in to his own troubles to pull away from Edgar's.

Or give him something to relate to in order to get him to divulge everything in his soul.

Edgar took bait, but only for the role of listener. "That's a shame," he consoled as best he could, by looking away like he was distracted by work, to give the illusion he had no emotions to hinder him.

Sam almost laughed, shaking his head as he sat back on the bed. Edgar was so predictable. "What happened to L-"

"Michael," Sam corrected quietly, but not emotionally. His eyes were still on Edgar, still just as inviting. "Michael bit the big one."

This took Edgar by surprise and he unwillingly looked at Sam with this concern, this empathetic worry furrowed in his brow. His tone was wistful as he started to speak, inquire further into Sam's personal histories. Maybe they were more alike than he had originally perceived. "How did he-"

"No vampires," Sam interceded with a small smile, holding his hand up to stop Edgar from continuing. "Car accident. Killed him and Star."

"Oh," Edgar whispered, retreating back into his shell, consumed again with his invisible work-though his face held a scornful brooding, especially in his eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Hey, no big deal," Sam said, waving it off with his voice. His eyes quivered, revealing some humanity and awkwardness as he recalled his older brother. "We never got along all that well anyway."

Edgar looked over at his friend, scratching the dry skin on his shoulder and sniffing to fill the awkward silence. "You seemed to get along pretty well when I knew you."

Sam smiled weakly, almost smirked as he muttered. "Hey, man, people change."

Edgar winced.

Sam continued, clasping his hands together and looking at the ground. "I mean, I cared a lot more about him than he did about me."

Edgar tensed at the familiarity of the situation, the feeling that someone you only wanted the best for wanted nothing to do for you.

Sam kept his stare steady. "Like, the whole brotherhood thing," Sam continued solemnly. "It kind of stopped after the whole saving the day incident of 1987."

"I'm sure he cared about you," Edgar murmured wistfully, distracted by his own memories, his own linked feelings. He was trying to convince Sam, himself. His eyes bore into the wall like it was a movie screen, as past dialogues with his brother, his own understanding of their relationship played in front of him like a film.

"He did," Sam agreed, his gaze still set on Edgar. "I know he did…but it was in his own way, not my way. My way meant…I'd do anything for him. His way meant…convenience?" he grappled with the word for a moment, looking at the floor. "And to me," Sam shrugged, scratching the little indent between his skull and neck on the back of his head. "To me, that meant he never cared as much."

"Yeah," Edgar said with a small nod, drawing his knees to his chest, the last memories of his brother's life replaying over and over in front of his eyes, how he felt his brother pulling away…like he knew the inevitable. "I get that."

Sam smiled slightly. "I thought you would get it better than anyone."

Edgar nodded, looking back at Sam. "I guess I never changed that much."

Sam shrugged, pushing himself off of the bed and walking over to Edgar, his same, calm smile still plastered on his face. "You're just my friend. I can read you like a book," he laughed, gently hitting his friend's knee with his palm. "Listen, man, I know you're not really feeling the whole talking things out-"

"It's no one's business but mine," Edgar muttered quietly.

"At least come outside with me," Sam whispered encouragingly. "The world isn't out to get you, man."

Edgar looked at him.

Sam opened the door slightly, so just enough of the warm desert air slipped into the trailer.

"Things change."

Edgar pushed himself through the door, followed by Sam. The sun was warm, and it heated his skin and burned his eyes.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt anything.

Sam knew how to handle him.

Maybe they were closer than he'd originally perceived. Maybe he had just become a predictable mass of nothing that Sam could read easily. Or maybe he had changed.

Maybe Sam had changed, their relationship had changed.

Edgar could feel, that's all he knew. Sam had given him something now to feel, to hold on to and grasp and use to go forward. Sam gave him someone; someone to protect and to care for…almost a substitute brother in some insane aspect.

Edgar only hoped he could be the older brother for Sam that Michael never was, filling the gap in Sam's heart like Sam tried to fill his.

Maybe they had more in common than he thought.

The sun scorched their skin, burned the sand beneath their feet.

Edgar gave Sam an attempt at a smile.

Sam laughed gently, putting a supportive hand on Edgar's shoulder. "Baby steps, man. That's all it is."