Disclaimer: I don't own Lost Boys nor reap any benefit.

I'm sorry this is still sad! I promise, PROMISE happiness is just around the river bend!

Edgar sat at the gravesite of what were the remains of his best friend. He never visited graveyards anymore except on two separate occasions; once with Sam to the joint funerals of Star and Michael and once with Lucy to the funeral of Sam.

He'd worn a black shirt, he remembered.

It had rained. Lucy had held onto his arm with all the strength she could. It had just been those two and the priest in the graveyard that day.

And she had whimpered, Edgar had heard her. "He was such a good boy," she had whispered. "Such a good son."

Edgar had tuned her out after that. He couldn't remember all of what Sam had been in order for him to remain strong, to cement himself as Lucy's rock. He was all she had anymore, and he wasn't even that much to her. He had been the one to take her son away. Edgar had staked him, he had killed him.

He heard that high pitched scream come out of Sam's mouth. He had watched him writhe on the sand, bleed and lurch forward and finally stop moving all together. Edgar looked at those blue eyes that once conveyed nothing but happiness and life, and now were empty shells. They were hollow.

And Edgar had cried, he remembered. He cried at the loss of the one person who always stood by him, who had the audacity to hug Edgar, who had the nerve to drag him out into the cold light of day and forced him to enjoy the little joys life had to offer. He had cried at the loss of the one man who still cared about him.

He cried at the loss of an opportunity to say goodbye.

Edgar didn't know how much this visit would help, but he had thought long and hard about the impact of what could happen. It had only been a week since Sam had been buried, and the guilt of never giving his friend the proper farewell had eaten away at Edgar's insides until it had become too much.

He had to say goodbye. This was the only way he could think of.

Stretching his arm, he brushed his fingertips against the cold marble. He jerked back, drawing his hand into his chest. The stone was too cold, too hard and unfeeling to be Sam's new home. It wasn't right, it wasn't a good fit.

Edgar could see Sam looking at the slab of marble and smirking as he shook his head. "Who would live under that?" Edgar could hear him say with a joking dismissive tone, putting emphasis on the word 'that'. "No way, man. No way. I wouldn't be caught dead in that thing."

How ironic the situation turned out to be, Edgar thought with a bittersweet smile.

Edgar would have hugged him now. He never wanted a hug. Sam had tried multiple times on various occasions to give Edgar a hug. Sometimes he had been sincere, sometimes he had been joking, knowing Edgar's discomfort with human touch. Edgar had always made a face and pushed him away, sometimes he'd hit him too, almost like he was punching sense into him so Sam would never do that again.

Edgar would hug him now if it would make him smile, if it would remind him Edgar did care. He had never stopped caring.

The screaming, the fizzing. The blood had stained the sand.

Edgar swallowed his tears. Alan had been gone for awhile now, Edgar was used to having Sam now to help him through. Sam had been his rock initially, when Edgar was too broken to think or move. Sam had patted his shoulder and told him it was going to be okay, and Edgar had lashed out at him, telling him he didn't know what it was like. He had no idea.

Sam was empathetic enough to understand. Sam would nod and agree, but he was just there for Edgar. He just wanted the best for his friend.

Edgar felt a tear fall down his cheek as he looked at the dates on the gravestone. The time was too short, the numbers were too close together.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to the rock in front of him.

He half expected Sam to come out from behind a nearby tree, smiling just like always and ask Edgar what the hell he was doing. Edgar would be astounded and Sam would just give him a happy yet confused stare.

"Yeah," he would say as if it were obvious. "I'm here? Kind of confused as to why I wouldn't be."

Edgar half-wanted that to be true.

He just sat there and stared at the grave, looking at what had once been his best friend.

All he wanted was Sam back. He didn't understand why Sam had slipped through the cracks and had fallen. All Edgar ever wanted was to keep them safe, keep everyone safe. With a shaky breath, Edgar questioned his efficiency as a hunter, as a friend.

How would everyone that stayed so close to him…die? And how could he let them? In a matter of years, Edgar had allowed his best friend and his brother to fall victim to vampires. When had the job taken over his life so that his friends could die around him while he stayed three feet away? Edgar choked on the tears he couldn't swallow.

Why had he forgotten all that mattered?

He could see Sam smiling, snapping next to him as he stared off. "Yo, Edgar," he would call out, smirking as he placed his head an inch away from Edgar's ear. "Anyone home in there?"

There was a bouquet of roses next to the grave that Lucy had placed there only yesterday. Edgar had driven her down, but he hadn't left the car. She was too old, too fragile to go by herself. The loss of both sons in a matter of three years took an immense toll on her. Edgar tried to fill the role of caretaker.

He owed Lucy and Sam that. He could take care of Lucy.

"My Sammy would like these," she said softly in the car, looking at the flowers, not at Edgar. She ran her finger over the petals. "He would like these, don't you think?"

Edgar had been silent as he looked out his front window. Sam would like those, he would appreciate the gesture.

Even if he hated them, Edgar knew Sam well enough that Lucy would never know. Edgar could see Sam, smiling politely, saying "Thanks, Mom" quietly as he gave her a one armed hug.

Edgar hated that he could visualize it. He hated that he could see every action Sam would perform knowing he'd never get to move again. He would never hug his mom again, or give that small sad smile when Edgar wanted to kill someone. And the worst part was, it was all Edgar's fault.

Screaming, bleeding, writhing on the ground. And Edgar had stood there, unable to take it back.

Sam had left a post-it on Edgar's fridge. It had a smile on it and what Edgar needed to buy when he went shopping. It was the last thing he had given to Edgar.

Edgar folded it twice. He kept it in his pocket. He never bought the items in hopes that Sam would notice and buy them. He'd come into Edgar's trailer, shaking his head but still smiling.

"You owe me," he would say as he dropped the groceries on the table. "No vampire hunting is worth me being a maid."

And Edgar would look at him and say, "I'm sorry."

He looked at the grave in front of him.

"I'm sorry."

He could hear Sam downplaying it, putting up his hands in front of him and looking Edgar in the eyes, calm and happy and saying.

"Hey, man, it's cool. We're good…this," he would say, pointing between the two of them. "This is good. We're tight. It's fine."

And then he would open his arms for a hug.

Edgar would do anything to accept that hug from Sam. He'd do anything to hear those words.

He took a shaky breath as he looked up at the sky; the clouds were slowly rolling by, releasing drops of rain.

Maybe Sam was up there. Maybe he was crying too, and every drop of rain that hit Edgar meant that Sam knew. That Sam was watching over Edgar and he heard his thoughts, his words. Edgar never thought he was weak until the drops began to hit his face. Edgar wouldn't cry anymore. He would shed tears, but there was no heavy breathing, there was no noise.

Edgar remained still and solemn as tears rolled down his eyes.

His tears mixed with the rain.

His tears mixed with Sam's tears. Edgar looked to the sky.

He didn't want the rain to end. He didn't want to let go.