Travel hopefully in life.

It's Halloween and I have no self control, so I started noodling with a Kidnapped AU based on the movie Lost Boys. Translating a bunch of Jacobites into 1980s punk vampires is going to be a challenge, but the movie is cracky enough that I think I can probably get away with a certain amount of hand-waving.

Anyway, here's a little snippet for you. Oh! And also, Davie's mom is still alive, per the narrative of Lost Boys. I've called her Helen, like they do in the play, but may change it to Grace later, who knows. And yes, Davie's dog is named Campbell.

ETA: Swapped the snippet out for the updated version I redid last night because I like it far and away better.

It's a damp, dreary morning in the Scottish Borders when the Balfours set off for Edinburgh, a looming bank of thunderheads spitting the misty drizzle that so often precedes a proper storm.

The deluge breaks behind them as they go, like a curtain dropping on their old life. David Balfour isn't the superstitious type, but it's difficult not to see ill tidings in it.

Bad enough that he has to leave home at all, but to do so under such an inauspicious sign seems like the universe is adding insult to injury. A bolt of lightning splits the sky at their back and a faint rumble of thunder rolls out to bid them farewell. Davie's dog Campbell, a wiry-haired mutt of slightly larger than middling size, growls in reply, though he doesn't bother to so much as raise his head from where he's sprawled across the backseat, the great lazy beast.

It's only an hour or so to Edinburgh along the A68, but time seems to pass like treacle, stretching by them thick and slow.

It isn't until they're twenty minutes or so into the trip, tooling along under the cloud-streaked sky, that Davie's mother, Helen, finally interrupts the quiet that's blanketing them like a shroud. She leans forward and turns the radio on, flipping through station after station. She keeps flicking glances at Davie out of the corner of her eye as she goes, no doubt hoping that he'll express some little interest in one of them.

Not bloody likely.

Davie hasn't said a word more than the occasional affirmative or negative since they finished loading up the last of their boxes into the trailer before they left the Borders, and he doesn't intend to start now.

" - Conservative leadership re-elected for a third consecutive term - "

"No," Helen says, wrinkling her nose as she turns the dial.

Bzzzt.

" - over your shoulder, I'm walking - "

She hums in disapproval and twists again.

Bzzzt.

" - every time I look at you, falling stars come into view."

"Oh!" Helen perks up. "I love this one! It's from my time." She winks at Davie and starts swaying back and forth in her seat, crooning along with Michael Holliday and his sugar-voiced backup chorus. "Yes, that's just why you're so starry-eyed. That's just why you're so starry-eyed. When we touch I hear angels sing!"

She reaches over and squeezes Davie's arm. He shoots her a black look over his shoulder and shrugs her off, settling his chin into his hand and leaning so his temple touches the window.

Helen deflates with a sigh, straightening up and settling her hand back on the wheel. She stares out the windscreen while Michael Holliday continues warbling about how all his dreams are coming true. After a few seconds, she presses her mouth into a flat line and reaches out to stab at the button on the dash.

The car descends back into silence, only the rush of the wind through the cracked windows and Campbell snoring in the backseat serving to score the scene.