when the third oldest sister doesn’t play about her baby bro. 
Tw: mentions of Diana Ross
What’s worse than a daughter who’s called a shame to the family? A daughter who doesn’t give two shits.
You, y/n Jackson, are the third-oldest sister to Janet, Randy, Marlon, and Michael. But the youngest among the others.
You were quite the handful, especially to Joe, who tried to be aggressive and scare you.
And what did you do? You talked back.
He tried to scare you; he tried to intimidate.
When he tried to put his hands on you, you hit him, which shocked him and most of your siblings. But one brother looked at you with such amusement.
Michael.
And how did it come to you to hit him?
It came from when he was forcing you to dance and sing, you were forced to wake up at 5 am, along with your brothers, who were about to go to another bar for their performance.
Your curly Afro was messy, and your eyes were heavy with sleep. You complained, and when you complain, you don’t stop til you get what you want.
Joe had had enough and sat up quickly, which startled Michael.
He raised his hand ready to hit you, and you moved back and then raised your hand and smacked him across his face.
Joe gave up on trying to make you work like the others. Meanwhile, Michael was the star of the family, working 9 to 5 at the age of a kindergartener.
You would’ve been in your room listening to some soul music before Michael bussed in your room with a bright smile.
“Y/n!” He exclaimed with that smile that made you relax further into your bed.
“Yes, Mike?” You called out softly, and he jumped onto your bed and brought out his favorite book.
“Can you read this to me?” Michael’s eyes were a little weary, scared of your reaction. He knew you usually say no to some of the things that are asked, except for your mother or your other favorite brother.
But you could only chuckle and boop Michael on his nose.
“Sure, Mike. Cmere.” You grabbed the book he wanted you to read for him. Michael’s weary look melted away, but pure fear before excitement as he scooted over to you.
And that made the bond between you two closer.
If you were in a room, he’d be there. If you were to leave cause you didn't find anything interesting, he’d walk after you after a few minutes.
Jackie called you “big sis general” one time. Funny, but it was true to how you strictly ran things.
When Michael was getting older, you started to realize how crazy people were for him.
Especially one old hag that seemed to hate your every living being , since Michael looked at you with pure admiration as his big sister.
You did have a small singing career, one that you did by yourself and had your own management with people you trust.
So imagine how you felt when Diana Ross ignored you and walked past you during an interview called “the two biggest women of music”. You held back every curse word right there. But she sure didn’t ignore Michael, who looked nervous but flustered by Diana. Michael was young, and she’s old, trying to flirt with your baby brother?
“Oh, so that’s how the bitch wanna play?” You thought before a smile crossed your face.
It’s after the interview that you cornered her in her dressing room. You were leaning up against her door as she was doing her makeup. She didn’t notice you at first before you started talking.
You smiled at Diana with a nice smile, “Hello, Diana.” You said in that tone as she stiffened before looking at you with a forced smile on her face.
“Hello… y/n.” She said, looking at you with hatred in her eyes. And your voice was the same; the only difference was that you held it more composed.
“You see, Diana. I’ve been noticing how you’re acting weird around Michael. And if I catch you bein’ weird to my baby brother.” You stepped close to her. “I may have to beat your ass.” You stepped back, turning your back as your slicked back curls bounced with each strut as you exited.
That’s all you said before leaving with Michael, following you from afar, clearly oblivious to what his older sister did.
Summary: There was never any hope of saving Michael Langdon, never a chance to stop the apocalypse. The Antichrist was already too intertwined with his destiny when the reader met him all those years ago. But Mallory can go back and make things right and when the reader travels with her, an opportunity sparks to try and make things right after all.
Words: 3.2K
Warning: NONE!
A/N: I’m back again with another update! In our last chapter Violet Harmon was released from the Murder House and there was an unexpected, unwelcome visitor waiting for Y/N. What is Y/N’s history with Cordelia and the Coven? And what will Cordelia and Michael make of each other this time around?
Michael has enough sense to take Violet upstairs the second we enter the house. Michael practically drags the girl by her sleeve, rambling about showing her his room and where she could possibly sleep. Cordelia sweeps into the living room, removing her hat and glasses. She sweeps a finger along the shelves as she passes by.
‘Clean.’ She remarks, ‘What’s changed?’
I keep quiet, not wanting to give much away till I know why she’s here.
Cordelia fixes me with hawk eyes when I don’t answer, ‘Do remember I am your Supreme, Y/N. I can make you talk if I must.’
‘Why are you here?’ I demand, ‘I have done everything you asked. I’ve kept you updated, I’ve sent you copies of my accounts to prove I did buy a house-’
‘Because I’ve had enough of the theatrics.’ The Headmistress answers, ‘I want to know what happened to you and so do many others. I come to see if perhaps finally you are working on uncovering your heritage or manifesting your powers but instead I find you playing house with a teenage boy.’
My insides squelch, ‘How long have you been watching me?’
‘One of my girls saw you in the area.’ Cordelia deposits herself in an armchair and crosses one leg over the other, ‘She said how the two of you were quite…taken with each other.’ She watches me as I stand stoic facing her. ‘I’ve known you long enough to know someone like you isn’t capable of love-’
‘You don’t know a thing about me.’
‘Is that so?’ Cordelia glowers at me, her tone filling with ice. She takes a breath, her voice a mere tremor, ‘How you wound me. You above even my mother could so precisely plunge a knife into my heart.’
‘And I’m the one with theatrics.’ I glance upstairs, knowing Michael and Violet are trying to listen in. ‘I am working on a project. It’s…classified.’
’Nothing is classified from me.’
I feel her against my mind, pushing against the walls I’ve constructed over so many years. Prying for information, looking for a gap she can slither past. ‘Stop it.’ A weight pushes against me, with more power behind it than I’ve felt in a long time. I let out a gasp as Michael, broken and bruised lying in the middle of the road springs to the front of my mind. ‘That is an invasion of privacy!’ I thrust my hands out, pushing both Cordelia and the armchair back a few paces.
But she’s already seen too much. Neither of us speak as Cordelia digests the information she saw. I don’t know how much she gleamed from that picture, but the Supreme rises and walks over to the window. She looks out first at the suburban row of houses and then her eyes fall on Mrs Greendale tending to her petunias. ‘Myrtle would be so disappointed.’
I can feel the moisture in my eyes at the mention of her name. How I miss Myrtle Snow more than anyone else on the entire planet, ‘That isn’t fair.’
‘He must be one special boy.’
‘He is.’
Cordelia turns back to me, ‘No boy is special, Y/N.’ She lectures, ‘Especially when it comes to magic. You know this.’
‘You’re mistaken.’
‘Perhaps we should let him demonstrate then.’ Cordelia’s voice rises, loud enough for Michael to hear. ‘After all, you have done so much for him.’ She’s outwardly challenging him and I beg Michael doesn’t take the bait.
Silence rings throughout the house, punctuated only by a weed whacker.
‘Regardless of how vital you deem this project, you’re wasting coven funds.’ Cordelia’s tone cuts through me, her barb about Myrtle still ringing in my ears. ‘I won’t continue to finance some doe-eyed fantasy of home-educating this boy’s magic. He can attend Hawthorne, like all other Warlocks. I’ll contact Ariel at once to have a meeting with the both of you.’
She moves back towards the door, evidently finished with our discussion. I have to chase her, my footsteps falling behind her heeled ones as we re-enter the hallway. ‘That isn’t an option.’
She pauses, ‘Your opinion isn’t my concern.’
‘You aren’t sending him to Hawthorne.’ I repeat, my hands balling into fists. ‘Those Warlocks will fill his head with egotistical, dogmatic and misogynistic views about not only us witches but who we are as women.’
Cordelia’s eyes drift from me to the top of the stairs. Michael stands there with Violet, watching the scene unfold below. She then notices my hands and the protectiveness that flows between Michael and I. ‘Who is she?’ Michael asks, ‘Why are you fighting about me?’ There’s an exhaustion in his voice and I can’t blame him.
It’s been one hell of a day for all of us.
‘My name is Cordelia Goode.’ The Supreme remains where she is, ‘I am the Headmistress of Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Ladies’. She makes sure to stress the last word.
‘The one from TV!’ Violet thuds down the stairs, ‘I saw your interview. You’re a witch too!’
Cordelia nods and I put my hand out, blocking Violet’s path on the stairs, ‘She isn’t a friend.’ I warn her.
‘But you’re both witches.’ Violet points out, ‘Did she teach you? Is this like a Professor Snape thing?’
I don’t answer, but Cordelia laughs. ‘Well I don’t brood over my potions that’s for sure.’
‘Why are you here?’ Michael keeps things on track. He hasn’t moved, but his chest puffs out ready to fly into action.
‘You have magic?’ Cordelia asks him, ‘I’d like to see it.’
Michael’s eyes flash to me. He’s waiting for my approval, but I don’t know what is best for him. I’ve trained him well, as far as I’m concerned but Michael could show Cordelia a little too much.
Is that a risk I can take, knowing what becomes of them in the future?
Michael sweeps down the stairs and past me. His boots clunk on the floorboards as he leads the way into the kitchen. Cordelia follows behind, then Violet and I bring up the rear. No one speaks as Michael removes a glass tumblr from one of the cabinets and places it down on the breakfast bar. Cordelia seats herself right before him, as if Michael is about to perform a kids magic show. Violet takes a seat too, she is the only one showing her true expression. Violet bounces a little, thrilled at the idea of seeing some more magic.
Cordelia hardly even moves, she sits statuesque as Michael inspects the glass and then turns it over the bottom facing upwards. His hand slides like liquid as he moves his hand above the glass, rising upwards. The Tumblr follows the movement of his hand, rising slowly into the air as if on strings.
I remain behind Violet and Cordelia, keeping a careful eye on the Supreme witch. She remains unmoved, but Michael’s only displaying basic magic at the moment. Violet however, lets out a gasp of intrigue. Her reaction is enough to build Michael’s confidence. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as smoke appears in the Tumblr, curling round itself as the glass rotates upwards. The second the tumblr is floating, right side up a flame bursts into life inside the glass. Cordelia twitches as the glass gently returns to the surface, the Supreme leaning in a little closer for a better look. Michael’s fingers reach in and snuff out the flame.
’You have…impressive control.’ Cordelia praises, ‘It is rare to see a male with so much precision when it comes to his craft.’
‘Thank you.’ Michael preens, his orbs never straying from Cordelia. I’m sure he can feel the immense power the Supreme radiates, just as I can. He knows she could be a fierce friend or extreme enemy already. Michael’s hands fold behind his back as he draws himself up to his full height, ‘I’m sure that is enough to meet your Mallory.’
The air leaves my body as Violet springs up from her chair. She showers Michael in praise, picking up the tumblr to inspect it. The smell of smoke lingers in the air as Cordelia sits there, stupefied at Michael’s revelation.
Mallory.
I have completely forgotten about her.
‘You have talent.’ Cordelia rises from her seat, ‘It is rare to meet a Warlock capable of Clairvoyance.’
‘I can do many things.’
But Michael’s arrogance has Cordelia’s head snapping back to him, ’Bragging, will get you nowhere in my Coven. I am highly aware that it is Y/N’s tutelage which has taken you to the level you are at now. Not your own power alone.’
Silence rings as Cordelia seems to tower over Michael. Despite him being taller, Michael shrinks under the intensity of her gaze. For a moment, both Michael Langdon and Cordelia Goode glower at each other, an unspoken display of dominance happening between the both of them. ‘Perhaps you should let me prove that I am more than a rival to your Mallory.’
I try and search through Cordelia’s mind, trying to unpick a flash or glimpse of Mallory. What has she told Cordelia? Does the Supreme already know everything about Michael?
Is this all a test?
A laugh tinkles through the room, rising from Cordelia. ‘You believe you could be the next Supreme?’ She goads, ‘I’m sorry, but it simply is not possible.’
‘And yet you had no idea yourself of the true power you were capable of.’ Michael remarks, ‘Were you?’
‘My power was smothered by my mother.’ Cordelia answers, ‘You are being encouraged by Y/N. They are very different cases.’
‘All I ask is the chance to prove myself.’
Violet watches the two as if she’s watching the Wimbledon finals. She nibbles on a nail, sliding back to stand beside me. ‘Who’s Mallory?’ She whispers to me, having seen how quiet I’ve become.
I don’t answer her, but I know it’s time I got involved. ‘Well you’ve seen it now.’ I raise my voice to get their attention, ‘Do you deem him special enough to have your attention?’
‘I’ve seen all I need to.’ She says, ‘For now. However, my decision remains the same.’ She raises a finger, sensing the rush of fury that sparks from me. ‘You will not challenge me, Y/N. I don’t care who you think you are.’
‘So it’s what…Hawthorne or nothing?’ I demand, I can see nothing but Cordelia. The rest of the world has blurred, I’m not even aware of Michael stepping over to take me by the forearms, trying to pull me away from my verbal attack. ‘You’ll take away everything I have built here.’
Cordelia makes for the door, ‘Don’t guilt-trip me, Y/N.’ Her voice caries a bored tone, ‘I thought perhaps you had changed. I thought Myrtle’s passing was the push you needed to find yourself. That I might have allowed.’ She stops by the door, ‘But I won’t continue to allow you to live in a fantasy.’ She regards Michael, ‘Does he have talent, yes. But it isn’t talent that can be coaxed by me, or even yourself. Robichaux is simply not equipped to have a boy stay amongst the girls and Mallory has already undertaken the test of the Seven Wonders.’
The news rocks my world. It’s no surprise to hear Mallory is the next Supreme, that was something I already knew.
But to have already proven it to Cordelia…what is her angle now?
Is Mallory biding her time? Poisoning the witches further against the Warlocks? Mallory knows firsthand how the Warlocks tried to end the witches. But will she use that knowledge to her advantage?
Cordelia watches me carefully, Michael’s hand is against my back. Subtly there, just in case I need him. Violet has remained in the kitchen, sensing the danger in the air. ‘The funny thing Is,’ Cordelia begins, ‘I always thought that if anyone would be my successor, it would be you.’
I swallow, ‘That…isn’t possible.’
’Myrtle believed otherwise.’ The front door opens and Cordelia steps outside, ‘But Myrtle believed in many things I thought absurd.’ She walks towards the road, a black SUV pulling up outside the house. The back door opens as Cordelia glances over her shoulder, ‘It was nice to meet you, Michael. Give your sister my regards.’
‘I won’t let you go.’ My voice is firm, my hands clasped together on the dining table. Michael sits opposite, Violet beside him.
‘I don’t see the harm.’ Michael says, having already been over this I can tell he’s getting weary. ‘I’d be progressing. Isn’t that the whole point of this?’
I look around the room, my eyes landing on the laptop. Michael’s spreadsheet sits open from one of his accounting clients. Those are the little details I’d miss. Bringing Michael to Robichaux would spell disaster, I couldn’t trust what Mallory or Cordelia may do.
The risk is just too great.
’So lemme get it right in my head,’ Violet says, playing with the sleeve of her cardigan. ‘These warlocks are the same as that woman earlier, but they aren’t as powerful as witches.’
‘Not generally.’ I answer, ‘Cordelia always liked to remind us how testosterone interferes with their connection to their magic. I assume it’s something to do with arrogance, but I’ve seen many a witch fails because they were too cocky, so I’m not certain how much I believe that.’
‘Isn’t that kinda…backwards?’ Michael asks.
‘I think it’s awesome.’ Violet grins, ‘Women have been behind men since like forever, it’s cool we finally have something we’re just naturally better at and no one can dispute it.’
‘That’s the exact problem.’ I remind her, ‘The warlocks resent the witches because they are inferior.’
‘I don’t like this.’ Michael pushes away from the table, ‘It should be up to the individual, not some whacked generalisation.’
I don’t answer him. Flashes of the past flitter through my mind and I make sure Michael cannot slip inside and catch a glimpse. But I can’t get the image of Ariel Augustus burning alive out of my mind’s eye.
I can’t ever forget that day.
‘You do agree.’ Michael has taken my silence as me disagreeing. ‘You like how it is.’ He glowers at me, ‘Makes sense. You’re teaching me, I’m below you. Maybe there are things you aren’t showing me.’
There’s a beat as I register what he’s just said. ‘You ungrateful brat.’ I hiss, my nails dragging along the table. ‘After all I’ve done for you, all I’ve taught and shown you-’
‘Yeah, but there’s also a reason Cordelia came chasing after you.’ Michael retaliates, bearing down on the table his hands flat on the surface. ‘So, what aren’t you telling me. Who is she to you?’
‘No one.’ I say immediately, ‘A mentor from my past. Cordelia and I….we’ve never seen eye to eye.’
‘No offence but that’s kinda obvious.’ Violet says, ‘She looked like she wanted to strangle you.’
I keep quiet, the pressure from both of them starting to get to me. Both Michael and Violet wait, matching expressions of suspicion staring at me. It suddenly hits me just how similar the two can be at times, the family resemblance is striking. ‘We were rivals.’ I admit, the words rushing out of me. ‘I was somewhat close to Cordelia’s mother before she died and Cordelia rose as Supreme. That was maybe the biggest offence I could commit in Cordelia’s eyes.’ My eyes drop to the table, ‘I know there are things I’m not opening up about regarding Robichaux.’ I say, ‘But everything I have done is to help you, Michael.’
‘Why?’
I take a breath, ‘Because despite what Cordelia thinks she knows, you are special.’
Michael and Violet exchange a look, ‘I know that.’ Michael says, a small smile back in place. ‘I’ve always known I was different.’
‘I just don’t want someone to poison you.’ I murmur, glancing towards Violet.
She takes the hint, ‘I’ll go order some takeout or something.’ She excuses, practically running out of the dining room.
Michael takes a seat as the atmosphere changes between us. His hand slides along the table and takes mine in his, ‘I’m not ungrateful.’ He begins, ‘Don’t accuse me of that.’
‘Sorry.’ I whisper, ‘I know you aren’t but…Michael I’ve…heard about the warlocks vendetta. If they see how powerful you are they will use you against us. Whatever if they turn you against me?’
Michael blinks, ‘You have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?’
‘What?’
A sad smile blossoms across Michael’s face, ‘When I was still with Gra…with Constance she had this idea to read me Shakespeare. Something about making me smarter alongside the classical music thing.’ I watch him lose himself in the memory, ‘I always remember Romeo and Juliet because it was so beautifully tragic. I’ve always thought my life may turn out like something from a Shakespeare play.’
‘We are not Romeo and Juliet.’ My tone is firm, ‘Let’s get rid of that idea right now.’
‘We belong to different sides, Y/N.’ Michael murmurs, his hand still in mine. ‘You with the witches and I should be trained by the warlocks.’
‘The warlocks don’t know what I know.’
‘And what do you know?’ Michael’s eyes pierce mine. ‘You knew to save me, you knew exactly where I’d be and that you could bring me back.’ I keep quiet, ‘I feel your fear whenever I mention things like this.’ He continues, ‘Y/N, I cannot imagine spending my life without you. I’m used to sleeping beside you, hearing how your voice lifts when you scold me.’ He grins, ‘I like how your jealousy rises when I work for the neighbours.’ Michael’s fingers squeeze mine, ‘Whatever fate we have that ties us to each other, I will always back you. You have saved me time and time again. I can never thank you enough for that.’ His eyes glimmer, ‘Maybe it’s time to let me go.’
‘No!’
‘Well not go,’ Michael amends. ’But, let me try something for myself. I’ll never make mistakes if I don’t have the chance to try. Whether that’s at Hawthorne or facing this Cordelia woman or being away from you.’
I can feel the tears swimming in my eyes, ‘I can’t let you go.’
He smiles softly, ‘I didn’t think you cared about me beyond me being your project.’ He admits, ‘I was so guarded because no one ever just wants me for me.’
‘I do.’ I insist, ‘Michael, there are so many bad people in this world.’
‘I think I might be one of them.’ His voice is so faint I only just hear him.
The revelation of his words crashes over me like the swell of a tidal wave. Michael’s own self-awareness mirrors my own terror. I’ve sunk my claws into him and clutched him so tight I’ve suffocated him.
I’m holding him back.
How can I expect Michael to grow into the man I love if he doesn’t have the experiences that made him who he was back in the Outpost?
‘I don’t want us to become enemies.’ I say, ‘I don’t want to see you again and you look down your nose at me. I couldn’t take it.’
‘I love you.’ The words ghost over me and chill me to the bone.
‘Don’t, Michael.’
‘I love you.’ He repeats it, firmer and stronger than the first time. Michael crosses over and kneels down before me, prostrating himself for my judgement. His blonde curls fall into his eyes as he looks hopefully up at me with those penetrating blue eyes. My hand can’t help but stroke his cheek, Michael leaning in to just rest his face against my palm.
‘Hawthorne.’ I agree, feeling myself fill with trepidation. ‘If it’s what you really want...I won’t stop you.'
Ok, I'm actually on my period right now and I REALLY need to read how baby Michael would take care of me...
oh hello!! sorry to hear about your period they are they uh.. worst.
you’re in the mood for baby michael? i got you. that boy is under appreciated.
I think if he learned about how much pain your periods put you through he’d do anything to make you feel better.
Also, young Michael would hover. A Lot.
After bringing you a cup of tea for your cramps, he’d linger around the couch with you. You’d lay your feet on his lap and he’d keep asking for reassurance that you were okay.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can do?” his eyes flickered on you.
“Michael, I’ll be okay. I go through this every month.” you laugh softly as you watch his cheeks blush pink.
“‘M sorry.. just wanna make it easier for you…”
“C’mere,” you move the blanket off your body and pat your tummy.
You see him hesitate, “Come lay with me,”
He gently lays across you, his head resting on your chest. His warm body applies a nice amount of pressure to your lower abdomen.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, a soothing motion that always helps calm him.
“I promise, you’re helping me so much just by being here.” you kiss the top of his head.
Michael smiled into your shirt, before tilting his head up. “I love you..”
“I love you too, baby.”
I also think that if you were super cuddly / touchy during your period - he would love it.
Taking a shower? He’d come in with you and wash your whole body. He’d get down on his knees, and clean your thighs and legs, softly placing kisses on your tummy as water washes over you both.
Watching TV? He either lays on your chest ^ like spoken about earlier OR
he pulls you on to his lap so he can place his large (!!!!) hands on your tummy.
I think we can all agree that a little blood doesn’t scare the antichrist.
SO.
if your period puts you in a certain mood 👀 he’d want you to let him take care of business.
“Lay back..” he kissed your lips quickly, “Let me take care of you..” he mumbled against your jawline.
He’s not like older Michael who makes you submit to him -
He coaxes it out of you. With soft lingering touches and kisses that leave you wanting more.
Soon enough, you’re pleading and begging for any release.
He’d be happy to oblige by removing your panties and attaching his lips to your dripping core. OOOF
Soft and slow.
Where older Michael is confident and sensual, younger Michael focuses on making sure you feel good the whole time.
His gaze meets yours as he reaches for your hand. His tongue picks up the pace as you raise you hips off the bed.
He doesn’t stop until you cum and collapse on the bed.
But like I said, whether its during sexy times or not;
While you’re on your period, Michael is all about you and pleasing you.
I meant to have this done a little faster for you but got distracted smh
I Fell out of Heaven to be with You in Hell Part 2
Sub!Michael x Reader
Summary: Reader experiences traumatic flashbacks of Michael’s past when they are intimate, so they consult his Ms. Mead. Little bits of humour in the beginning. The sex starts closer to the middle if you just wanna skip to that part. lol
First part can be found here.
Warnings: sub!Michael x Reader, young!Michael, fem!reader, smut, fingering, sexual intercourse, mention of post traumatic stress, mention of disassociation, talk of Christianity and demons, dirty talk, sexual tension, humour, fluff.
Word count: 4K.
Side note: I based the sex part off of my own personal experiences with boyfriends(two that is) I was in love with. Even the post traumatic stress part. My first boyfriend had an episode in the middle of us doing it and it really sucked... Anyways! *sigh* Can you tell I’ve been single for far too long? Cause I can lmao *I need help*
One late night, in your room, you and Michael were in a pretty heavy make out session, when all of a sudden you were seeing flashes of a little blonde boy inside of your head. He was holding a bloodied, mangled cat and he was crying. An older lady, you assumed who was Constance, was scolding him but you couldn’t make out what she was saying. As if on cue, Michael abruptly pulled away, eyes wide with fear and shoulders tensed.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry! I didn’t know that was inside of me.”
You gaped. This never really happened before, you seeing intimate, hidden memories of his past. Memories he chose to bury deep. Memories he had long forgotten. You remember him telling you once, how his childhood was a blur, how it was too painful for him to deal with and how he somehow forced himself to forget most of it. This broke your heart. You loved Michael so much and couldn’t bare to imagine him in that much pain where he basically had to disassociate with it.
“Baby, it’s okay,” you soothed. You caressed the side of his face and lovingly took his hand into yours. It easily engulfed yours and you gave it a reassuring, affectionate squeeze. His shoulders relaxed.
“Why is this happening to me, (Y/N)?”
You paused. Ever since you two became sexually involved—which was months after you guys started dating, you would see instances of him when he was younger. They happened abrupt enough where you could only see flashes of his face and that was it. Never like this. This is was a full on scene and this was the first time you saw someone else, and Constance above all.
“Mmm, maybe it’s because—you know, that we’re intimate now?” You wondered out loud.
“But I don’t wanna remember those things,” he weakly spoke. His eyes started to water and his bottom lip quivered. Your heart sank. You scooted closer to him and wrapped both of your arms tightly around Michael, right away he buried his head into the crook of your neck and started to lightly sob. His body shaking against yours. You could feel his pain. It was too overwhelming. All you could do was to hold him close and tight. And you never wanted to let go. You absolutely hated seeing this beautiful young man of yours being rendered into a hopeless, broken little boy.
“Please make it stop,” his voice was muffled by your neck and it hitched as he sobbed harder. You felt so utterly helpless. He was in ruin.
“Shhh, it’s okay, Michael,” you kissed the top of his head and started to gently rock him back and forth. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay?” You felt his long arms hug you harder, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.
“I love you, (Y/N),” he was still sobbing into your neck, his tears soaking your sweater. You had to figure this out, whatever it took.
The next morning, the both of you sat nervously at Miriam’s kitchen table. Despite breakfast being his favourite, strawberry French toast, Michael didn’t touch his food. He coyishly played with his fork, knowing that he had to talk about something embarrassing with the one person he considered the closest thing to a mother.
Miriam sat down across the table and quizzically looked from you to Michael, who was clearly not scarfing his food down like usual. “What’s the matter? You love French toast, more than my first husband did.”
You apprehensively put your arms on the table and started playing with your fingers, not knowing where to start.
“Uh, we sort of have a problem...” you spoke hesitantly.
Miriam’s eyes bulged and she exclaimed, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“What! No!” You and Michael both shouted in unison, quick to defend the obvious. You turned to Michael and he looked scared shitless. His face was pink. Clearly his dear Ms. Mead must of found out about the two of you having sex.
“Oh, dear Dark Lord!” she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily with relief, hand on chest in exasperation. “I know there’s supposed to be a backup, but that’s not for years, not until after you won the witches—”
“We keep seeing flashes of my past,” Michael cut her off. You could see him shifting in his seat, not wanting to say exactly how and when these flashes occurred. You took notice and cleared your throat.
“When we… er, are together-together,” you did air quotes, not wanting to say the dirty word in front of her. After all, she was your close friend and you were technically banging her adopted son. “We end up seeing memories of his childhood, the ones he forgot about...” You darted your eyes back down to your hands, closely examining the dark nail polish that was chipped.
Miriam was quiet. This made you nervous so you quickly looked up and she was deep in thought. She suddenly stood and walked around the table to her altar. You could hear books and trinkets being shuffled around until you heard what sounded like a heavy thud and something hefty being pulled out from underneath a heavier object. You turned and saw her holding a large, threadbare book that was titled in Latin. You only spoke English so you had no idea in hell what she was reading. She flipped through a few pages until she came across something that made her go, “Aha!”
Michael grabbed your hand under the table and squeezed hard, you gave him a reassuring look, hoping his Ms. Mead found the answer.
After she was reading, she explained how is father wanted him to remember his past. How it would fuel his powers and make him stronger, and the only way this were to happen was by being with you. When she said that you blushed. You knew Michael was special, but you? What’s so special about you?
She continued on about some Christian mumbo-jumbo that you had trouble following, but what you could get out of it, was that somehow you were the incarnation of Lilith or Awan or one of those demonesses; you were put here on Earth to shepherd Michael, the Antichrist towards full reign and terror of the Apocalypse.
You were stunned into silence. Michael was still holding your hand, albeit they were sweaty, he still held on tight. With the book still in hand, Miriam made her way back around the table and took a seat. Her head turned from you to Michael, then back to you, awaiting a response. She slapped her hands down on the table, startling you both.
“Well, I think that solves that there kiddos.”
Still nothing. Just shock.
Miriam heaved her chest, “C’mon, it’s not like I didn’t know what was going on!” Your cheeks flushed harder. “It was bound to happen, I just wasn’t sure when.” She laughed and you could feel Michael’s horror.
His mouth fell open, and shaking his head, he quickly said, “It’s not like that,” he suddenly stood up and you were forcefully yanked out of your seat as Michael still had a Terminator grip on your hand and you awkwardly stood up, trying to find your balance. “We love each other.” That last bit came out louder than he intended and his voice cracked mid-sentence.
You and Michael loved each other. You just never told anyone.
Miriam’s whole face beamed with joy at those words and before you could react she was hugging you both, her one hand in Michael’s hair as she playfully ruffled it. This was literally the most awkward sex conversation you ever had. You normally pride yourself on being comfortable with your promiscuity and sharing details with others, but this, this was weird and uncomfortable.
As soon as Miriam let go of the overly enthusiastic embrace, she grabbed her coffee mug and left the room, humming to herself. You and Michael—with his now messy hair, just stood there, gaping at each other. What the hell just happened?
It wasn’t until later that Miriam mentioned to you over coffee, how she found a condom pack in Michael’s jeans one day when she was doing laundry and how it made her smile. You spat out your coffee.
What the fuck.
You had to gently put it to her how yes, you two are close friends but discussing you and Michael’s sex life was off the table. She just laughed at this and said, it’s not like she bore him when he was a child. You had to sigh and just remind yourself to be, very, very vague about these things around her. The last thing you wanted was to picture Miriam standing in the corner of the room as you and Michael went at it. The thought of this made you shudder in horror. Why did you guys have to go to her? Why couldn’t you just pick one of the other Cardinals at the Church for advice? Ugh.
Unfortunately, this whole incident put sex off the table for a few days.
A few nights have passed and Michael was over watching Netflix with you. He was laying on the couch with his head in your lap and his hand conveniently resting on your thigh. You guys were watching The Omen 3, Michael had insisted on it. He was eager to devour every bit of pop culture that detained any reference to the Antichrist. You thought this was so adorable. He also insisted you do the same, after all, you were put on this earth to solely serve him. This gave you all sorts of warm fuzzies.
He was the Dark Prince and you were his companion. His partner in crime, as cheesy as it sounds.
And your dark prince was being mischievous. As he was slowly rubbing his hand on your thigh, it was gradually getting closer, and closer to in between your legs. You had no intention of stopping him, as this little abstinence period had you craving him more than ever. A dull ache had grown down there and you could feel your panties getting damp.
His pace was torturous so you moved his hand with yours up into the spot where you desperately wanted to be touched. With his head still facing the TV, he smiled.
“You’re such a little shit,” you teased and this only caused his smile to broaden.
You slightly parted your legs to make room for his large hand and he eagerly stroked you, lightly grazing the fabric of your underwear with his fingers. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, stifling a moan. You swore you could just cum right then and there just by his simplest touch.
Michael continued to gently caress your heat, feeling it get hotter and more moist with each delicate stroke. He was reveling in this. Your eyes scanned his body and you could see a thick bulge form in his black jeans. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged. He was so good to you.
He suddenly stopped and you pouted. His head turned up towards you and with a breathy voice he said, “Take off your panties.”
While still sitting down, you hitched up your skirt and slide them off in one fluid motion, not wanting to waste any time. Michael sat up and just as they were off, he scooted himself next to you and his hand was back on your thigh. His soft, cushiony lips crashed into yours and it was like the first time all over again.
The same zap of electricity washed over your body, and you could literally feel the chemicals inside of your head crashing in waves. It was ethereal.
You pulled away slightly, your parted lips grazing his as the heat radiated between you. Catching each other’s breath in your own, you hovered your lips over his, taking him in. You let a hand rest on his upper arm, feeling how long and lean it was, how the veins seemed to protrude. It never ceased to amaze you just how hot Michael was.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Michael breathed. This sent shivers down your spine. He always made sure to never let you forget just how beautiful and hot he thought you were.
You moaned at those words and sank your lips into his in a passionate exchange. His hand roughly squeezed your thigh, marveling at your softness. He started to stroke your leg, inching closer to that certain spot. All of a sudden you could feel his fingers slide delicately in between your folds, revering in your hot wetness. You let out a long moan into his mouth. Michael was always so eager to please you. When the two of you first started having sex, he was so eager it was almost aggressive. You had to stop and chide him, telling him to slow down and how his eagerness was hurting you. You had to teach him, which was expected since you were his first (and by the sounds of it, his last), how to pleasure you properly. He was a fast learner . His eyes would go big and hungry like, earnestly drinking up every ounce of criticism you offered.
Now he was such a good boy to you, you didn’t even have to tell him. Also mind you, he started to develop his telepathy around this time so he was obviously using that to his advantage. You didn’t mind this, since it served you well. You’ve had a number of sexual partners in the past, but they all paled in comparison to Michael.
Michael was phenomenal in bed and partly because you were madly in love with each other. You knew that being in love always amplified sex to a whole new level. You’ve been in love a couple of times, but never like this. Michael was your twin flame. He was your person.
The kissing started to become more wet and sloppy, and fast as he quickened the pace down below with his fingers. He was fondling your clit and you could feel your arousal heightening. Not wanting to climax so soon, you put your hand over his to stop him and pulled your face away.
His mouth was still parted, his lips slick with saliva, red and swollen with lust. He slowly opened his eyes and they were so dilated they almost looked black. Without saying a word to each other, you both went upstairs. You took his hand and guided him to your room. All the lights were off except for a string of pink Halloween lights that strung above your bed. You laid your hand on his chest and softly pushed him onto the mattress. He moved to where he was sitting with his back against the headboard. He knew too well that this was your favourite position.
You suddenly straddled his lap, lowering yourself onto his still clothed erection. A pulse of energy shot between your legs and up into your core. You aggressively moaned and you could feel his whole body shudder with pleasure. Michael wrapped his strong arms around your waist and up around your shoulders, greedily burrowing his face into your chest. You gently rocked your hips and you could feel him sigh with ecstasy into you.
Arching your back, you pressed yourself deeper into him, letting his hard length stroke you through his jeans. His breathing hitched. The friction was making you so wet, you could feel the fabric of his pants become soaked with your juices. Michael gently lifted your sweater above your head and removed it, leaving you only in a thin t-shirt. He nipped at your breasts through the fabric and the tender area around your nipples, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you. Your hands found his hair and you affectionately pulled on his curls, letting him know how good of a job he was doing. He softly growled, you were all his and he wanted nothing more than to be suffocated by you.
In between nibbles he would look up towards you for approval and you would reward him with a deep, lustful kiss, your hips still humping him with an intoxicating pace. You could feel his member start to twitch. You stopped and removed the last upper article of clothing, exposing your tender breasts to him. He aggressively cupped them with his mouth, obscenely moaning with hunger for you.
The only sounds in the room was of the bed squeaking and two of you panting heavily, with the occasional sound of a wet, sloppy kiss.
You sunk your lips into Michael’s when all of a sudden you saw a flash of red, then you saw a beautiful, older lady—sprawled lifelessly on a couch, with a scotch glass loosely in her hand and a cigarette in the other. Then you saw what looked like Michael, but he was dressed much differently, he wore khakis and a colourful striped shirt. He was holding the older lady and crying for her to come back, how he was sorry. Constance?
You stopped and opened your eyes. Michael’s eyes were still closed and tears were spilling down. He didn’t open them and with such vigor that you never experienced with him before, he pulled you in closely. He kissed you with such tenderness it made your head start swimming again with chemicals. You felt this pain but you also felt this enormous gratitude he had for you. Even though he was suppose to be the antichrist, the amount of incredible warmth and love that was radiating out of him was absolutely divine.
Michael never kissed you like this before. No one ever kissed you like this before. It was on such a different level, the gulf between you and reality was palpable. You felt like your whole being was levitating into the heavens and Michael was right there with you. Or more like hell, if you may.
“Thank you,” he whimpered into your lips, his voice sounded different. It was needy and wounded and grateful all at the same time. You could feel his body shaking with emotion. Despite all of this, neither of you wanted to stop. You and Michael were too far gone and wrapped up in the moment.
Still having your legs around Michael, he shifted your bodies where he was laying on top of you in the missionary position. Your second favourite position.
In between heated kisses, Michael removed his shirt. You slid a hand down his smooth chest, across his abdomen and onto his now soaking wet jeans. Despite the emotional turmoil, he was still rock hard. You squeezed the shaft of his member through his pants and his jaw slackened as a loud moan erupted from him. He buried his face into the side of your neck and started softly gnawing on your skin, leaving the faintest of bruises. He nipped and kissed his way up to your ear, where he nibbled the earlobe. You squirmed under him. He knew all of your weak spots down to a T. You could loudly hear his heady breath in your ear and it only made you want him more. You couldn’t take it.
“I want you inside of me, Michael,” you exhaled. With that he gave you a long, profound kiss before he slid off his jeans and boxer briefs. His erection sprung out and was drenched in a combination of your wetness and his pre-ejaculate. He dug into his jeans and pulled out a condom. Without breaking eye contact with you, he slipped it on. He lined himself up at your sultry, swollen entrance, gently pressing into your opening just the way you like it. Your head fell back onto the bed, mouth opening and closing. Michael cradled your head in his arm and pressed his forehead into yours. While looking deep into yours, his eyes bore those same holes as they did when you first met him, down right into your soul. His hips bucked forward and he slid into you, filling you right up with a burst of sensation.
“Michael!” You loudly gasped, no matter how many times he entered you, you were always taken aback by the severe amount of pleasure and how he seemed to fill you up just perfectly. As if you were made for each other. Two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.
With unwavering eye contact, he slowly pumped himself into you, making sure to feel every inch of your innermost walls. He began to pant and whine with each thrust. Your hands wrapped around his smooth, soft back. You could feel how his body temperature was rising. Sweat slicked his hairline and a bead of moisture fell onto your face. You opened your mouth, letting yourself taste him. The taste and smell of his pheromones inebriating you.
The tip of him hit your cervix and you yelped with delight, your fingernails digging into his porcelain skin. You dragged them down his back, making sure to leave scratches. Michael arched his back and obscenely groaned. He loved it when you marked him, it always gave him loving reminders how he belonged to you.
Michael pressed his mouth into the side of your face and panted, his voice hitched with ecstasy, “Can I go faster, baby?” You nodded and as he quickened his pace, you let your hands slide down to his ass and you clutched his cheeks, wanting to feel his hips buck in and out of you with each push.
Your bodies were entangled with each other in perfect harmony. Each breath, each kiss, each stroke of his penis sent you closer over the edge. Now all you could hear were the wet, pounding sounds of your bodies, laboured breathing, and the smell of each other’s sweat. His moans turned into blissful whines as he was nearing his climax. There was not a sweeter sound in the world.
“You’re such good boy, Michael. I want you to cum for me,” you exhaled. Your voice heavy with lust.
Just as you spoke those words, your whole body tensed and your vision blurred, you were seeing stars. Your whole body was on fire and you could feel this thunderous wave of energy course through your being. You tightly wrapped your legs around Michael and squeezed your inner, spongy walls around him. Feeling this enormous amount of energy being released from your core and into Michael, your orgasm was so intense, not a sound was to be heard, despite having your mouth wide opened. All you could do was hold onto Michael and ride out this high with the man you love.
Right as he felt you clench around his length, Michael’s jaw slackened and his lips parted further, making a perfect O. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the vibration of his groans inside of your body. Both your bodies tensed with rapid concessions of pleasure.
“(Y/N),” he whined as the last wave of his orgasm washed over him. He went limp in your arms and rested his face on your chest. Both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. You could feel his heartbeat race a mile a minute through his chest, like gears of a clock. You ran his hands through his soaking wet curls and kissed his damp forehead.
“That was incredible!” Michael gasped after he finally caught his breath. His arms were loosely wrapped around you and he just basked in the glory that was you.
After several silent minutes of lying in a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and crumpled sheets, the two of you properly got under the covers for the night. Michael was worn out and had his back to you, already fast asleep and snoring softly. Usually he never got this tired after sex, but considering the traumatic recollection of the night, him crashing out completely was a given. You snuggled up to him, wrapping an arm tenderly over his waist. You kissed his shoulder.
With a smile you said, “Goodnight, my antichrist.”
Imagine it being you sent back in time, being the future supreme, not Mallory, and deciding on a different plan.
(a/n: I’m writing this because OUR BOY DESERVED BETTER!)
I heard Cordelia’s plan but even as the future supreme I couldn’t condemn someone to death before they did the things that made them deserve it. I fell into the tub of dark water taking me back to a time before Langdon knew what he was. He could be changed and I knew it. The others were far too scared but I knew that if we killed him we were just as bad as he was. I parked in front of the infamous murder house once I arrived in 2015. I watched as this scared little boy fled from the house next door. His grandmother trailing behind him yelling at him to get out. This was when I exited my car.
“Hey, are you alright?” I asked approaching him. He looked so scared and innocent.
“W-who are you?” He replied.
“I’m a friend, someone who can help you.” I gave a soft smile.
“Why would you want to help me? I’m a monster my own grandma doesn’t even want me.” I took his hands in my own.
“Because I’m different too. I’ve been there before. And I know a place that can help you too. Because no one is all bad. My favorite author once wrote. ‘We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.’ So are you in?” I asked and he smiled letting go of my hands briefly to wipe away his tears. He nodded eagerly.
“I trust you.” He replied.
“Alright come on we’ve got a long trip ahead of us. But first you need shoes and a good meal okay?”He nodded following me to my range rover. We stopped at a shoe store, then a little cafe, and then to the airport.
“Where are we going?” He asked once on the plane.
“New Orleans, there’s a school there, mainly for witches but I teach there and I think I can get our supreme to make an exception.” I explained. He nodded remaining quiet for the remainder of the flight. Once in New Orleans I drove down to the academy. I knew my past self wouldn’t be there now that I had changed the future.
(a/n: GO with it, we don’t know how the whole time travel thing works in this universe)
I got out of the car but noticed that Michael was hesitant. “It’s alright, come on.” I said putting out a sense of hope, comfort, and love. Something I knew the poor boy had never really received. He hesitantly got out of the car. I took his hand in mine and led him towards the door. Kyle greeted me.
“Where have you been (y/n)? We were worried.” He said.
“I’m alright Kyle but I need to speak with Cordelia. Is she here?” I replied.
“In her office, and your friend?”
“Oh, this si Michael he’ll be staying with us if my talk with Cordelia goes well, Michael this is Kyle, he’s a good friend, a brother to me really. He’ll help you get settled later and help you learn the house.” I explained. “But first we have to meet with Cordelia, she’s the supreme. The head of all the witches and warlocks. Come on.” I said and he followed me up the stairs. “Cordelia?” I knocked.
“Come in.”She said and I nodded to Michael and he followed me. “(y/n), I’m so glad you’re back, who’s your friend?”
“This is Michael, he’s gifted but I don’t think Hawthorne and Ariel wouldn’t be good for him, I don’t trust that SOB, he’s too advantageous.” I said making sure he didn’t quite hear that last part. She smiled at the naive young boy.
“Hello Michael I’m Cordelia. It’s nice to meet you, I trust that you will do great things here. (y/n) has never steered me wrong with a charge before.” She said to him. I could tell she was sending good emotions to him just as I was. He smiled and I couldn’t help but feel proud of what I had done.
“I’m just grateful that someone can help me (y/n)’s been nothing but kind to me. The only one who has ever been kind really.” He said sending me a sad look.
“Well, we promise you, no one will ever treat you unkindly here. Shall we begin?”She asked and he smiled as did I. We were going to have a new future, a brighter one.
(A/N: anyone know where that quote is from? 10 points to anyone who knows!)
Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandom: Supernatural
Ship: Gen (Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael & Raphael)
Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Protective Michael (Supernatural), Young Michael (Supernatural), Young Lucifer (Supernatural), Young Gabriel (Supernatural), Young Raphael (Supernatural), Angst and Humor, Before Lucifer's Fall (Supernatural), Sibling Bonding, Good Older Sibling Lucifer (Supernatural), Good Older Sibling Michael (Supernatural)
Wordcount: 3897
Summary:
That time Michael fell into a black hole and none of his siblings could get him back out.
Michael was on alert from the moment he heard Lucifer calling his name.
"Michael!" High and panicked, matched with the rhythm of his wings that Michael would know anywhere. "Michael!" Lucifer almost collided with him, but Michael turned and caught him instead. They still tumbled backwards, but Michael held onto his brother tightly until they'd stopped spinning. Lucifer was hyperventilating against his chest.
"What's wrong?" Michael asked. Lucifer's wings tucked themselves under his own. For all his panic, his feathers were settled, and Michael liked to think that was because of his presence.
"Gabriel," Lucifer said. Then he made a choking sound and hid his face in Michael's chest again. He shook, and Michael tried to soothe him. When his voice was steadier, Lucifer continued. "We were racing each other, and- I should have stopped him, Michael, I know I should have-"
"What happened?" Michael made his voice firmer. He tried to sound like their Father. He wasn't sure his impression was very good.
"We looped around one of the black holes. Gabriel dared me to fly closer, and then I dared him to beat my record, and it kept going until- Michael, he fell in! I couldn't grab him in time!" Lucifer's voice was anguished. Michael ducked his head to nuzzle against his little brother's hair. Lucifer and Gabriel were reckless, yes, and they made each other worse, but even they knew not to go near black holes. They weren't supposed to get close to anything The Darkness held dominion over. Especially not now. She and God were having another fight. (Michael wasn't sure they were ever not fighting about something these days. He was just glad he and Lucifer could never be like that.) He released Lucifer reluctantly, making sure to kiss his brother's forehead so that he'd know Michael wasn't upset with him. Gabriel needed help. He came first. Michael could scold them both later.
"Take me there." Lucifer nodded. He led the way quickly, darting through space like the light he was named for.
Michael heard the black hole long before they saw it. The hum made his grace vibrate in warning. Michael reacted to Her the same way, and maybe that was why, out of all of them, She tolerated him trailing after Her the least. Gabriel and Raphael, She let do as they wished. Lucifer, She even liked the company of at times. Michael had never been welcome in the same way. That was fine. His Father consoled him, gave him more duties to fulfill to keep his mind off of it. The hum grew louder and louder, and Michael steeled himself for Gabriel's sake. He had hoped when Lucifer said they were playing near a black hole, he meant one of the smaller ones. The imposing void before them disagreed. Michael caught up to Lucifer, halting him before either of them can fly too close. Even still, he could feel the gravitational pull dragging at his primaries. They were safely beyond the event horizon that ate planets whole. Lucifer peeked from behind his wing at the black hole and then up at Michael.
"Stay here," Michael ordered. Lucifer nodded. Without allowing himself to hesitate, Michael dove in closer. It was easy to move in, but the few moments he pulled back, he could feel how much more difficult it was getting. He struggled to flap his wings, but he kept moving in. "Gabriel!" he called. It was useless; Gabriel wouldn't be able to answer back, but if he could hear Michael in there somehow, know that his brother was coming to help him, maybe that would comfort him. Michael beat his wings harder, more and more of his energy going towards keeping himself from being dragged in. He flew closer. His wings ached with every drag, and he wasn't sure he could-
The rhythm of wings that Michael would know anywhere, behind him. Michael forgot everything he was doing, all his focus jumping to calling out to Lucifer to go back. Before he could even turn, though, he was shoved forwards by a sudden collision. Michael fell into the dark.
~~~
Lucifer was still laughing by the time Raphael and Gabriel arrived. Raphael first, wings practically buzzing they were flying so fast, and Gabriel next, grinning broadly at Lucifer. Lucifer whooped, ducking past Raphael to spin Gabriel around. "Good job running interference, little brother!" Gabriel joined in on his laughter, while Raphael looked at them both in horror.
"What are you talking about? Michael-" Lucifer bumped them with another wing.
"Is fine," he said. "It was all Gabriel's idea."
"Learned from the best," Gabriel said. Raphael was still frowning at them, and Lucifer stuck his hand in their closest wing, rucking the feathers up the wrong way on purpose until they shook it out of his grasp. Apparently, all that following around and emulating Michael had made them pretty good at replicating Michael's 'frustrated and disappointed' look, although on Raphael, Lucifer found it much more adorable than annoying.
"You pushed him in!" they accused. Lucifer flicked a wing dismissively.
"That was the whole point," Gabriel said. "I distract you so that you and Michael can't work together to think of a more reasonable response than a one-angel rescue mission" — Lucifer really was so proud of him. And Michael would be, too, once he got over being pranked — "and Lucifer gives Michael the sob story we cooked up to lure him in. Then-" Gabriel mimed a shove. Lucifer couldn't contain another laugh. He'd almost ruined the whole thing from the start by breaking character when Michael was asking him what was wrong. Luckily, Michael didn't see through the act. He'd looked so surprised when Lucifer pushed him in.
"And what if he's stuck now? Really stuck?" Raphael demanded. They sounded genuinely worried, and Lucifer did his best to stifle his laughter. He laid his wing over theirs, drew the one he'd gotten messy close to him. Raphael tried to shake him off again, but he ignored them and started combing their feathers back in place.
"Michael's fine. He'll come barrelling out any minute now," he said, completely sure of himself. It wasn't like anything could ever hurt Michael. The idea was impossible for Lucifer to fathom. It was Michael. Raphael begrudgingly settled down.
They waited.
And they kept waiting.
Gabriel started getting nervous first, to Lucifer's surprise.
"Luci-" he started.
"He's coming," Lucifer interrupted him. "He probably waited this long to get out to get back at us and make us worry." Gabriel relaxed, trusting him.
They kept waiting.
"Luci..." Gabriel said again, anxiety creeping back into his voice. Raphael was starting to tense under Lucifer's hands, too. Their feathers were fluffing up. Lucifer's own were beginning to mirror that, and he tried in vain to get that automatic response under control. Michael was- He was playing a prank in return. That was all. He was going to come out. Lucifer stared at the wide tear in space, listening to the constant growl of it. He focused, trying to hear the reverberation of Michael's grace underneath it. Lucifer could always hear him, no matter how far apart they were.
He couldn't now.
He sprung forward, far enough to feel the pull of gravity on his own feathers, and shouted, "Michael! This isn't funny!" No response. "It was a joke, Michael! Come out right now! You're scaring our little siblings!" The shake in his voice admitted that it wasn't just them, either. Nothing came from the black hole, no sign of Michael anywhere. Lucifer turned back to Gabriel and Raphael. They were huddled together, shining twin eyes gazing up at him, looking for an answer or a plan, and Lucifer didn't have one. This wasn't supposed to happen.
Lucifer's first thought was to ask Michael what to do.
Gabriel and Raphael were still staring at him. He couldn't tell which of them had started shaking, if it wasn't both of them.
"We'll get him out," Lucifer said. He looked back at the black hole and then at his siblings again. "We'll get him out," he repeated, forcing confidence into his voice.
"I think we should get Dad," Gabriel said, quietly.
"No, we can do this ourselves. We-" Michael hadn't been able to pull himself out. What if Lucifer couldn't either?
No, he would. But...
"Raphael, stay here, and if we need help, then you go get Dad." Raphael nodded. Gabriel disentangled himself from them, clasped hands the last things to come apart. Raphael's lingered where Gabriel's had been for a moment before they pulled it back. Gabriel stood in front of Lucifer.
Lucifer could see now that it had been him shaking.
"We'll pull him out," Lucifer reassured. "Don't worry. He'll be reprimanding us in no time." He knew Gabriel would believe him. That Gabriel would follow him, circling the black hole as though they could find a weak point to break through. Lucifer could feel the same difficulty flying around it as Michael must have. He could hear Gabriel close behind him at all times as they wove closer and closer. He beat his wings harder, but he still had strength to spare. Michael had gotten closer than this. He had, too, though he'd used the momentum of pushing Michael to break free again that time. He went closer, forgetting for a moment that Gabriel would be only a wingbeat behind.
And Gabriel was younger, and not as strong a flier, and when he found he couldn't break free of the gravity of the black hole, he began to panic. He beat his wings frantically. It was no use. Lucifer saw Gabriel get dragged past him, flailing wildly to break a grip neither of them could see. Lucifer didn't even hesitate to plunge in after him. The void yawned open before them, hungry enough to swallow two more archangels whole. Lucifer reached for Gabriel. He missed. He knew that in a few more seconds, he wouldn't be able to pull himself free of the black hole's gravity, let alone himself and Gabriel. He couldn't let Gabriel fall in, too. Lucifer grabbed at him one last time. His hands slid through Gabriel's fluffy feathers, unable to find a grip. Then, at the wrist of his wing, Lucifer managed to hold on. Gabriel kept fighting, unable to tell that Lucifer was helping him escape, but with heavy beats of his own wings, Lucifer was able to drag them both back. Each movement was exhausting, made worse by having to carry Gabriel back, but Lucifer never let him go.
When they were a safe distance away again, (they failed, Lucifer thought, they failed) Lucifer noticed that Raphael was nowhere to be seen. For a horrible moment, he thought they might have followed him and Gabriel in when they saw Gabriel struggling, and that they'd fallen in without him even seeing it happen. He calmed himself by making sure Gabriel wasn't hurt — messy feathers aside, he was fine — until he could think straight. Raphael wouldn't have jumped into danger like that. They would have gone for help. Would have gone to get-
He was here.
Raphael had come back with Him, and they came to roost beside their brothers. They batted Lucifer's hands away from Gabriel. He gave them space. Raphael might have been younger, but they were already a better healer than him. Not that that was saying much. Lucifer was best at making messes.
God went past them, and Lucifer only looked at his back, at the black hole, once before he forced his eyes back to Gabriel.
The three of them waited.
They stood when God approached again, soldiers in a line.
God had carried Michael back among them, and He set him down beside Raphael. Michael looked terrible. His wings, held tightly against his back, were in shambles, feathers bent and disorderly, more than a few missing completely. He held himself stiffly under their Father’s gaze, as he inspected Michael for any serious injury Himself. Raphael's wings twitched, but they didn't speak up to offer their assistance. After a moment, their Father stepped back to look at all four of them. Gabriel’s wings trembled, and Lucifer extended his own to cover them without dropping his Father’s gaze.
“Whose fault is this?” He asked. Raphael looked at Michael, but he didn’t look back, keeping his eyes on their Father. He waited, and the four of them said nothing. “I asked you a question.” Gabriel shrunk further back under Lucifer’s wing. Raphael kind of looked like they wanted to do the same, or to retreat behind Michael, but they were too far away.
It had been Gabriel’s plan. Strictly speaking, he should be the one their father disciplined.
But he’d already paid the price for it, in Lucifer’s eyes. He was terrified he’d actually gotten Michael hurt. He’d nearly gotten sucked in himself trying to get Michael out. His wings were still shaking, upsetting the feathers on the underside of Lucifer’s wing, but Lucifer didn’t move. He was older, he was their Dad's favorite, and he’d gotten in trouble more times than Gabriel had before his little brother even existed. He could weather any punishment doled out.
“I wa-“ Lucifer started.
“Lucifer warned me not to get too close.” Michael interrupted. He met Lucifer’s eyes. Lucifer shut up.
“Did he?” Their Father pressed. “Michael, if something happened…”
“I made a mistake.” Michael stood his ground. “My siblings tried to help me.”
“Gabriel and Lucifer did try to pull him out,” Raphael said, to bolster Michael’s lie with truth. Lucifer was equal parts surprised and proud. “I told them it was a bad idea, but they tried anyway.”
“You’re lucky neither of you got trapped as well,” their Father said, “and that if you did, Raphael had the sense to stay behind.” Raphael smiled a little. Their Dad sighed and managed to give the impression of rubbing the bridge of His nose in frustration without actually doing it. “And you’re sure that’s all that happened, Michael?”
“Yes.”
God looked over them all, one by one. Lucifer still refused to look down. Raphael did. Gabriel hadn’t met His eyes the entire time. Michael did look away, briefly, but he turned his gaze back, standing up straighter. There was no doubt in Lucifer’s mind that their Father didn’t believe a word they’d said.
“Alright,” he said. “Don’t play near the black holes again, my children.” There was a chorus of yes, Lord’s from all four of them. He glanced over them again, sighed louder this time, in a way that Lucifer thought might be purposefully dramatic, and left. Gabriel finally peeked up.
“Are we not in trouble?” He asked. Lucifer tilted his head at Michael in question.
“You lied to God’s face.” He felt the need to state, in case Michael didn’t realize what he'd just done. Michael’s wings flapped once, and he grimaced, like the movement hurt with his feathers so crooked.
“I did not.” He argued. “I said I made a mistake, and I did. I believed for a minute that you could think about anything other than mischief.” His voice was lighter than Lucifer had expected. Raphael snorted a quiet laugh, and Lucifer understood Michael’s game. Lucifer scowled at him. Michael rolled his eyes.
“Well, I suddenly can’t remember how to groom your wings,” Lucifer retorted. “After all, if all my knowledge is solely devoted to mischief-“
“I imagine it takes up a lot of space, Lu,” Michael said with joking condescension, for the most part. He only ever called Lucifer that when he was upset, and despite them playing up the argument to entertain their little siblings, Lucifer felt a twinge of guilt. “And with a mind as small as yours…” Michael was cut off by Gabriel starting to giggle. Raphael joined in a few seconds later. It felt more like a release of nervous tension than anything. Lucifer huffed, feathers puffing up in what he could play as annoyance, but was more fueled by the way Michael's smile dimmed when Gabriel and Raphael weren't looking.
~~~
Michael winced again as he tried to fix his wings. He couldn't get the angle right to do this without pain. He was pretty sure some of the feathers he was trying to salvage couldn't be, but the thought of pulling them out all by himself in his nest made him want to curl up and ignore the ache as best he could instead. At least it kept his mind away from the dark. He shivered. On the outside, it had been so loud that his grace rattled, but inside, it was like someone swallowed up all the sound, even his own calls for his brother. There had been no way out, only constant crushing pressure, and him, battered around at the center. No angel was meant to be in a place like that. He'd clung to his Dad for the first time since he was a fledgling when He came for him, shining merciful light down on Michael and scooping him up in his arms.
(Michael wondered if his Dad ever missed that, the way Michael sometimes missed having to carry Lucifer through the stars, long before he was old enough to fly between them on his own.)
Michael tugged on another feather and stifled a whimper. He wasn't really hurt. If he was, God would have healed him.
There was a familiar beat of wings behind him. One Michael would know anywhere. It stopped before it came to close, giving Michael time to turn and address his brother.
"I..." Lucifer trailed off. He'd looked so bold before their Father today. Now, he only looked like Michael's little brother. The one he'd raised. The one who should never feel unwelcome in Michael's nest. But Lucifer was hesitating now. Michael tried to stretch his wings to greet him, but a shock of pain made him recoil instead. "Michael?"
"I'm not hurt," Michael said aloud, echoing his earlier thoughts, "or God would-"
"He was distracted," Lucifer interrupted with casual blasphemy. Michael let it slide. Lucifer came closer. When Michael didn't do... whatever he was expecting, he let himself into Michael's nest. A few of Lucifer's feathers made up the nest's decorations, the cast off down of a fledgling and full-grown quills. (Raphael and Gabriel's were there, too, though far less numerous than Lucifer's.) Lucifer reached for the nearest of Michael's wings, and Michael shut his eyes, waiting for more pain. It never came. He felt Lucifer's expert touch comb through his feathers, able to right them better than Michael could alone. He started by ordering Michael's primaries, until most of them flared out straight and perfect, but soon, he was petting along the whole of Michael's wing.
Michael's eyes were still shut, though now from relaxation rather than a futile attempt to avoid pain, when Lucifer said, quietly, "are you angry with me?"
Michael considered that.
"Exasperated," he said, "but not angry." Some of his feathers still ached. Michael knew they had to be plucked. He wasn't looking forward to it. Not even Lucifer could make that painless.
"I'm only 'Lu' when you're angry." Michael chanced flicking him with a wing. It hurt, but it was worth it. "Ow!"
"We were acting," Michael teased. "I don't think you're only made of mischief either."
"No, but you might be," Lucifer grumbled. Michael hugged him.
"I could never be angry at you, starlight," he said, the softness of a different nickname causing Lucifer to melt into the hug. Lucifer had the warmth of the stars in his grace, too, or maybe he was that lovely a reflection of God's love. (And maybe, Michael's secret proud heart said, a reflection of his as well.)
Michael had lied to God for him today. It didn't sit easily in his grace. He tried to reassure himself that it was only a small thing, that their Father hadn't even been that upset. He would have called Michael's bluff if He was. Still... Michael bumped his head against Lucifer's.
"Don't ask me to do that again."
"Do what?"
"Choose you over our Father." Lucifer hummed.
"Alright," he agreed, "but only because now I know you'd pick me."
Those words filled Michael with a fear he could not name. His small disobedience today had shaken him so badly that he knew he could never do it again, not even for his brother.
"Promise me?"
"Yes. Promise. Can I go back to grooming your wings now?" Michael let him go. Lucifer kept preening him, and Michael tried his best to let his discomfort fade away.
It wasn't long before they heard the flurry of more wings, so close together that Michael couldn't have picked them out if he tried. Raphael and Gabriel never looked more like twin creations than in flight, and even when they landed a little ways away from Michael's nest, they were almost on top of each other.
"I told you so," they both said to the other. Lucifer laughed. Gabriel pointed at him. "No, I did, he's here."
"And I'm right, too. Michael's wings got damaged. I could tell." Raphael looked at Michael, putting on a more professional voice. "I'm going to heal you."
"I'm sure you will." Raphael's professionalism needed work. It broke under a smile. Soon, their younger siblings were clambering for room in the nest as well. Michael waited for Raphael to begin plucking his feathers, but instead, he felt their grace very meticulously seeking out Michael's injuries. He shouldn't be surprised anymore that when Raphael meant to heal, they aspired to do as their Father would, to regrow and soothe each broken feather. It was harder work than they anticipated, and though they got through most of the damage, they had to stop. Lucifer rubbed their back, his hand trailing into their wing. "That's enough," Michael said. "You don't have to do any more."
"I do," Raphael insisted. "This wouldn't have happened if I was with you-"
"Hey! That's my fault!" Gabriel butted in.
"He's right," Lucifer said.
"See? Lucifer says-" Gabriel turned on his brother. "You're not supposed to agree!"
"...You admitted to it?"
"You're supposed to tell us neither of us did anything wrong!"
"No, Lucifer's right. This is definitely your fault." Michael said, nodding. He kept up the act until he actually saw Gabriel look worried, and then he pulled him close. "But you're forgiven." Gabriel loved cuddling even more than Lucifer did, and once Michael had his arms full, he knew he wouldn't be leaving the nest anytime soon. Which gave Raphael ample opportunity to pluck a feather. Michael grunted in pain, but Gabriel nuzzled into him and Lucifer pet his other wing. The second pluck wasn't as bad. The third one hurt even less. The last one was negligible, and when Raphael finished putting the pulled feathers to the side, Michael opened his arms again and they fit into the space opposite their twin.
"No room left for me, as usual." There was the smallest flash of jealousy across Lucifer's face. Michael was well aware of it. Of course Lucifer loved their siblings, but he had gotten very used to being Michael's only little brother. He wasn't good at sharing.
"There's always room," Michael said. He shifted the younger angels around to give Lucifer a spot.
Michael hoped it stayed like this forever.
(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)
Summary: There was never any hope of saving Michael Langdon, never a chance to stop the apocalypse. The Antichrist was already too intertwined with his destiny when the reader met him all those years ago. But Mallory can go back and make things right and when the reader travels with her, an opportunity sparks to try and make things right after all.
A/N: It has been eternity since I posted an update I know! But it’s finally here, after the dramatic events of the last chapter, Michael and Y/N face an uncertain future. All their hard work could unravel before their very eyes as the Murder Hosue come to terms with Michael’s actions, meanwhile Violet has her own plans in mind for Y/N. I hope you enjoy we’re gonna get real juicy soon!
‘He defended us all.’ Violet’s hand slams down on the breakfast bar, ‘You cannot be serious.’
‘It’s still murder.’ Ben looks from his daughter to his wife, ‘We have to consider the ramifications of that.’
‘It wasn’t necessary, Violet. Vivian insists, ‘We made a vow to stop evil things happening inside this house. Even if it was Constance who started it.’
‘Exactly, so why is Michael getting the blame?’ Violet counters, ‘He didn’t point a gun at us. He protected us from the psycho bitch.’
I remain quiet. It’s not my place to speak during this domestic. My eyes have been rooted on the knife resting in the kitchen sink, the blade still coated in blood. Constance hasn’t dared to show herself since her death, but I know she’s in the house.
She’s avoiding me.
‘What do you think about all this?’ Violet rounds on Tate, her eyes eager for support.
Tate hesitates, ‘Your parents make a point, Violet.’
She staggers away from him, ‘After everything you’ve done?’
‘That’s why I’m saying it.’ Tate says, pushing away from his place by the pasta arm. ‘This house made me do awful shit. I don’t want Michael going down the same path.’
Violet looks to all of us, before finally she stares at me. I don’t meet her eyes because I don’t know what I can say. The decision has been made for me, despite Michael’s valiant efforts.
All that good behaviour for nothing.
Violet speaks to all of us, but the emphasis is meant for me, ’Fuck all of you. I’m going to see if he’s okay.’
She leaves the room without another word, her footsteps echoing up the stairs as she goes. No one speaks for a while, even when Moira pops into the kitchen and starts washing the blood off the knife. She slots it back with the rest of the set and leaves again with just a small smile towards Vivian.
I can feel disappointment curling in me like bitter smoke. I worked so hard to help Michael. To give him the life he craves with his family. I swallow and down with it goes my lingering whisps of resentment. I could have stopped Constance. I’m a fucking witch. Michael shouldn’t have stepped in. He didn’t need to.
‘I’m sorry it has to be this way.’ Vivian rests her hand over mine, ‘I know you only have his best interests at heart.’
‘You can’t reconsider?’
Vivian shakes her head, ‘Personally, I hate the bitch. Once I was dead Constance told me all about some cupcake plan she had. Blames me and Violet for her daughter wanting to be pretty, some bullshit.’ Vivian heaves a deep sigh. Her usually serene expression wrinkles and the blemishes of age just creep in for a moment. ‘My concern is for my son.’
‘We want him to grow up away from this house.’ Ben curls his arm round his wife’s shoulders, ‘He shouldn’t have us lingering over him, drawing him back to the past. He needs to move on.’
Ben Harmon, for once in his psychiatric career has given some good advice.
‘You both deserve to.’ It’s Tate who finishes it off, before disappearing.
‘Gone to see Violet, no doubt.’ Ben sighs and then the moment is broken.
Vivian nods, ‘I need to check on Jeffrey. It’s been…ages.’ She smiles at the realisation, ‘Peaceful.’
‘I’ll go to Michael, then.’ I offer weakly.
They both ignore me, or simply don’t hear. Ben and Vivian head straight for their baby, answering the cries that swell up from the basement.
As I climb the stairs, the chill of lightly quelled rage hits me again.
How dare she.
How fucking dare she?
I want to exonerate Constance’s soul myself. In that moment I wish Michael knew he could melt people’s souls, banish them forever. I want Constance Langdon stripped from the fabric of this timeline, from this world.
I take a wrong footing and stumble. It’s enough to bring me out of my thoughts. The chill hasn’t quite left me, but somehow I feel lighter.
Dread courses down my spine.
It’s the house.
Sentient and alive, encoring all my most grievous and sinister thoughts. It urges me to act on them, to hunt for blood.
To kill.
‘MICHAEL!’ I’m running now, my feet thundering up the stairs. I tear down the landing to Ben and Vivians’ room when Violet, Tate and Michael appear in the doorway. I just catch myself before I run into them. ‘Sorry.’
‘We thought she was back.’ Violet says, ‘What has you so freaked now?’
I did make a mistake.
Maybe there is no way in any timeline that Michael can be happy with his real family. The house will always corrupt him, unless I get him out.
For good.
‘We need to leave, Michael.’
The boy’s eyes widen, ‘What…no! No we just got here!’
‘I know baby, now we need to go.’
‘NO!’ Michael looks outraged, ‘I did it to protect you. I saved you, you have to see that!’
Violet and Tate disappear and I don’t blame them. I take Michael’s face in my hands, urging him to look at me, ‘I know you did. Thank you so much Michael, but now we need to get you out of this house. I need to keep you safe.’
‘I can keep myself plenty safe.’ He retorts, pushing away from me and back into the room.
‘Michael, please.’
‘I’m staying here.’ He sits down on the bed, ‘I want to see my Mom and Dad.’
I walk towards the bed, my approach cautious. ‘They are worried about the effect of this house on you.’
‘Don’t care.’
‘Michael.’ My voice snaps and Michael’s eyes jump to me. It’s rare I get truly angry with him, ‘I appreciate what you did for me back there, but that doesn’t mean you have the entire say on what we do. Your parents and I have discussed-’
‘Oh so now you’re any surrogate Mom again?’ There’s a glint in his eye, a warning. ‘And here I thought you were warming up to me with that kiss.’
For a moment I’m stunned. Too speechless he would bring that up at this moment.
‘So it did…mean something?’ The tough act falters, Michael’s voice lilts up at the end.
He’s…hopeful.
‘What do you want to do?’ I sit down beside him, ‘You want to stay in a house with the ghost of your Grandma? She could try and kill us-‘
‘I know Ben and Vivian want me gone.’
He’s rendered me speechless again.
‘They…don’t.’
‘Violet told me.’ Michael’s nose twitches, fighting back a sniffle. ‘I know it was wrong to murder her. I know that. But I…don’t wanna lose them.’
I pull him to me, Michael’s head falling against my chest. ‘You won’t ever lose them. They’re always going to be with you.’ I find myself clinging to Ben’s words, ‘But you’re never going to grow if you stay stuck here with them. You understand that, right?’
When Michael pulls away my shirt is sticky with blood. Constance’s blood. I fight down the urge to vomit as I wait for Michael’s answer. He considers my words, head tilted to the side like a puppy. He leaves us in silence for a very long time, his eyes taking in every inch of the room. ‘Tonight.’ He proposes, ‘I want to stay tonight and I want them to come visit us every Halloween.’
I smile at the idea, no doubt Tate’s idea, ‘Deal.’
⏱⏱⏱
We skip dinner, Michael seems to just collapse on the bed as if all his energy is spent. I fetch two shirts from Violet’s room, based on the punk rock bands they both belong to Tate. I turn round and pull my top off, slipping on the borrowed one. I slide my arms inside and undo my bra, pulling it through and arm and then off. I can feel Michael watching me the entire time. When I turn back and approach the bed I can see he’s kicked off his jeans and shirt, he’s lying there in only his boxers on top of the covers.
My eyes fall to the shirt dumped on the floor and he answers before I can, ‘Too hot in here.’
I let it go tonight. I climb into bed and rub my face as the days trauma crashes over me. My back aches fiercely and I have to tell my jaw to relax itself, to stop my shoulders hunching as I sink into the bed and roll onto my side. I am very aware I’m lying in bed in only a thin top and my knickers.
I count.
One, two, three.
Michael presses himself against my back. His arm falls on top, protective and strong. I can see the faint outline of muscle in his arm, probably from mowing the lawns of our nosy neighbours for extra money. His breath falls in tiny puffs on the back of my neck, warm and tingling as goosebumps arise and my skin sings from the amount of contact we have.
Anticipation wafts around us both as I tangle my legs with his and close my eyes.
We wait for ten minutes like that, me counting every second to see if Michael is asleep. To hear the telltale sign of a snore, a snuffle or even breathing.
I turn back over, and Michael’s too close. My nose bumps against his and I can’t even really see his beautiful eyes anymore. It’s dark, but I can feel every inch of him against me, his hard angles and soft stomach as my hand runs up before I can stop it. My fingers slide up naked flesh, up his chest between his pecs and push some of his hair behind his ear.
He presses his lips against mine, arms pulling me closer. Every atom in my body sings as Michael takes his fill of me, drinking in everything I give him as together we take one steady breath. Our lips are back on each other’s half a second later, Michael’s hands secure against my back.
I couldn’t escape him even if I wanted to.
And why the hell would I ever want to?
‘Goodnight,’ He whispers, breathing mingling with mine when we break apart again. He keeps his arms where they are, close around my body as his eyes slip shut. It’s intimate and gentle as I feel Michael’s arms relax as sleep finally takes him.
I don’t want to move. I want to bask in him and keep him as close to me as I can. Shield him from this house of evil and keep him firmly in the light.
I still can.
Sleep drags my eyes shut, my being grows heavier. ‘Please be here when I wake up,’ I whisper, ‘Don’t go anywhere. Stay right here with me.’
I don’t expect him to answer, but a blue eye creaks open again, ‘Forever.’
It’s the creaking of a floorboard, right by my side of the bed and the opening of a drawer that jolts me awake. I roll out of Michael’s arms and come face to face with Chad.
His mouth twists with a smirk, ‘Guess I win the bet. You are fucking him.’
’No.’ I stammer, feeling myself heating up.
Chad chuckles, ‘Okay Princess, you can live in your little world of denial. Just remember how old he is, yeah?’
‘Why are you here?’
He holds up a letter, ‘Delivery boy. Sadly my life has wound up with doing the Harmon’s dirty work.’
‘It’s from Vivian and Ben?’
I reach for the letter, but Chad slaps my hand away. ‘Not for you.’ His eyebrows raise, Chad tilting his head towards the other side of the bed. ‘For him and it’s private. Keep your nose out.’
He disappears before I can ask anything else. I lie back on my pillow, but sleep won’t come to me. Curiosity burns within me, wondering what on earth is so private it must be written down.
Why I’m not allowed to know.
Is it…about me?
Michael lets out a soft moan, his hand feeling along the covers. I catch his hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze and he settles.
He is so fucking young.
When I look up again Violet is there, just watching from the doorframe. ’Chad came down bragging about how he freaked you out.’ She whispers, sitting cross-legged before me. ‘Came up to check you weren’t already grabbing your stuff.’
‘It wasn’t nice to wake up to.’ I admit and Violet smiles.
‘Dramatic asshole.’ I will miss Violet’s humour, probably more than anything else in this house. ‘It’s not about you.’ She adds, catching my eye-line. ‘The letter, it’s just words of wisdom I think. Memories and stories, family lineage stuff. So he can pass it on when he’s old enough.’ Violet’s becoming lost in thought, ‘Dad’s idea. Carry on the legacy and all that alpha need to procreate bullshit.’
‘I don’t think you’re quite on the money there, but I get you.’
She hesitates, Violet’s eyes jump to Michael, and then to the open door. ‘Will you…come with me?’
I feel compelled to help her, and not due to the house. I slide out of bed and put the pillow close for Michael, his arms coil around it and for a second I feel bad for it. For how tight he clings onto it, as if he wants to smother all the life from it. I follow Violet downstairs and outside, it’s then I realise where we are going.
‘Violet-’
‘I have to know if it’s possible.’ She insists, opening up the crawlspace. ‘Please, I’m begging you.’
Her eyes are big, round brown orbs that penetrate me. I do not want to see what she wants to show me.
‘There aren’t…anymore things in there-‘
‘I cleared it out.’ Violet grimaces, ‘If it’s my final resting place then…I wanted to make it somewhere…nice.’
It’s macabre, but somehow I understand her. I go first, Violet closing the door behind us and we’re plunged into darkness. Shivers creep up my spine as I crawl, trying to convince myself this is a perfectly normal thing to be doing. I can’t see a thing, it’s pure black as we crawl. The only sound I can hear is Violet thudding along behind me.
‘It’s just ahead.’ She calls and I nod, despite knowing Violet won’t be able to see it.
Finally, we emerge into a wide space. I get to my feet and make room for Violet who takes my hand in hers. There’s a glow up ahead, yellow as we cautiously approach.
Violet rests below us. Her body is bent, resting on top of a single old mattress. Her eyes have almost disappeared only flecks of eyeballs left in her current state of decomposition. Candles have been set around her, bathing the place in flickering light. Her head rests on an old pink pillow.
‘It smells of…flowers.’ I wrinkle my nose at the overwhelming smell.
‘Plugged in five of those room fresheners I got last Halloween.’ Violet explains, jumping down to approach her own body. ‘I knew you’d throw up if I didn’t have them on.’ I feel the urge to vomit still. The sight before me burned into my memories, ‘I know no one should ever have to see this.’ Violet carries on, ‘But…please. I need to know.’
I inch my way closer, pressing my lips together. There’s a zap from above us that makes me jump a mile into the air, ‘Shit.’ Violet curses, ‘Forgot about the bug zapper.’
‘What the fuck!’ I can’t hold it back any longer.
‘Gotta stop the flies somehow.’ I turn back round, ready to go back to Michael. I’d rather take the house over this. ‘No please!’ Violet’s voice catches, ‘You’re a good witch. I know you are and you’re crazy powerful. Please, just do a spell. Tell me if you can.’
I thrust my hand out, stepping closer and closer but I keep my eyes shut. Violet lets me, I think she believes I’m focusing but it’s more to block out the sight before me. A vibration tickles my fingers, like someone is lifting them upwards. It’s warm as the sensation trickles up my arm and along my synapses.
‘I think…we have to bury you.’ I explain, opening my eyes. ‘Somewhere away from the house to free you.’
’No, Tate would never let us leave with me.’
I take in just how desperate she is, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. ‘I…don’t think I can do it any other way. That’s just…how it goes.’
‘No please you have to try.’ Violet insists, ‘I’m the only person who has their literal body here. It wasn’t take by the cops or buried somewhere. I’m still…..flesh there has to be something different. Like how you brought Michael back.’
I hold my breath as I suck up my courage and approach the head. ‘What will your family think, if I do this?’
‘They want what is best for me.’ Violet insists, ‘I won’t be dead anymore, I’ll be alive. Tate’s good with that but, we want to still be able to see each other.’
‘You should leave and never come back.’ I tell her, ‘Do not stay here, get out of LA.’
A smile graces Violet’s lips, ‘So it is possible?’
I bend over the corpse, cup my hand against the side of my mouth and focus. I think about Violet Harmon, about the spirit before me, melding back with her body. Of healing and rejuvenation and restoration. I can feel my energy sapping as I connect with her and whisper the words into her body, ‘Vitalum Vitalis.’
Violet surges upwards, she coughs and gags and I slap her hard on the back. She spits out a wad of congealed spit and blood as two white pills shoot out of her mouth. She convulses before me and I take a good step back, her bones twitching spider-like as colour returns to her body. Eyeballs re-grow where they should be, doe-eyed brown appearing amongst the white.
I don’t approach her as Violet heaves air in and out of her lungs. My eyes rove around the crawlspace but there is only one Violet before me.
‘Holy fucking shit!’ Violet whispers, her hands running down her body and through her newly grown hair. She turns to me and she too has that same expression Michael wore.
She looks at me as if I’m God.
‘Glad I could help.’ I murmur, fighting back a yawn as a wave of exhaustion hits me.
Violet gets steadily to her feet, still spitting stuff out of her mouth. ‘You okay?’
‘Tired.’ I offer, pushing my hair out of my face. ‘Didn’t expect to be doing this today. Or that it would work.’
Violet grins, ‘But it did. I’m back.’ She too looks round for another trace of herself, ‘I’m really fucking back!’
The candles extinguish in one fell sweep. The room plunges into a icy cold and then there’s the sound of footsteps approaching. Someone crawling towards us.
‘Move.’ I order, ‘Now. How can we get out of here?’
Violet runs to the crawlspace where we came from, ‘It’s the only exit.’
‘Something is coming that way.’ I tell her, ’Something or someone is pissed at us. At me.’
It’s the house. Furious I dared to disobey its rules.
Violet hoists herself up and bends over to give me her hand. Seeing no other option I take it and boost myself up. A man stands before us, clad in a suit of rubber. ‘Oh fuck off!’ Violet screams, ‘Don’t you dare!’
‘She needs to die.’
The man brandishes a knife and I act on instinct at once, the Rubber-man struggles against his own compulsion as I turn the knife back on himself. He holds the knife to his throat, the blade wavering dangerously. ‘It’s strong.’ I bite back, ‘I won’t hold him for long.’
Violet rips the knife out of the Rubber-man’s hand and brandishes it at them. ‘Show yourself!’
The Rubber-man stands there, still held under my grip. He makes no attempt to remove his mask, ‘DO IT.’ I urge, pushing more magic into my concilium.
‘Fuck this.’ Violet moves before I can stop her, she sinks the knife into the man’s chest and he bellows in agony.
‘VIOLET!’ I bellow, my fears spiking as I surge forwards and rip the mask off the Rubber-man.
It’s a guy I don’t know. Tanned skin, longish hair and some stubble. His necklaces jingle as he stares from me to Violet, blood seeping from his stab wound.
Whoever he is, he isn’t Michael and for that I’m relieved.
‘Travis.’ Violet tugs the knife out of his chest, ‘What the fuck?’
‘You what the fuck?’ Travis thunders back, ‘You just stabbed me, crazy bitch.’
‘You attacked us!’ Violet insists, she signals for me to move and I obey her at once. I take off down the crawlspace as fast as I can. Violet follows just behind me and when we’re both out of that hellhole I lock the door, sealing Travis inside.
‘He collapsed from the injury.’ Violet says, wiping the knife on her cardigan.
’So what he’s already dead.’ My voice pitches as my fear spills out, ‘He’ll just come back or the house will send someone else to kill us.’
Violet blinks, ‘The…house?’
‘What’s going on?’
Ben and Vivian have appeared, they stare at me and Violet as Tate too appears.
‘Travis attacked us-‘ Violet begins.
‘No the house attacked us.’ I can see Michael hovering just behind Ben, ‘It knew we were meddling and decided to try and stop us.’
‘See I told you guys.’ Tate nearly does a fist punch in the air, ‘This house is fucked. It made me do all the evil shit it wasn’t me.’
‘That’s why we have to go, now.’ I say, keeping my eyes on Michael.
He bows his head in defeat and that’s all I need to start marching towards the front gate. I take Michael’s hand, pulling him along with me. He doesn’t say a word, simply lets me take him to the car and put him in the passenger seat.
When I turn back, Violet is on the cusp of the house. She stands just inside the gate, staring out at the road and our car. Her freedom within her clutches at long last.
‘She’s back.’ Michael breathes, ‘That’s where you went. You brought her back.’
I nod, my eyes trained on Violet. I can’t hear anything from where I stand, the car-door open as Ben and Vivian approach their daughter. They pull her into their arms and hold her tight, I’m sure Vivian is crying as they let go. Tate takes a step forwards and then stops himself.
I turn away, it isn’t my business to watch as I turn back to Michael. ‘You okay?’
‘Woke up and you’d gone.’ He gulps, ‘I thought… thought you’d left without me.’
I sit in the driver’s seat and reach across to take his hand, ‘I wouldn’t ever do that, okay?’
Michael nods, ‘I’m starting to learn.’
He sends me a soft smile, ‘And I still get Halloween here.’
I don’t answer that, when I turn back Violet has crossed the road and is walking round the car. She sits in the backseat, ‘Can I stay with you guys?’ She asks, ‘Till I can get a job?’
‘Sure.’ I answer immediately, as Michael stares at his half-sister.
‘You’re coming with?’
Violet nods, ‘Y/N right, I can’t stay in that house. I’ve got a second chance too, not about to ruin it.’
I turn on the engine, and accelerate. I don’t look back, but Michael and Violet crane their necks to get one last glimpse of their family. I feel like some kind of child-napper, stealing them away even if it is for their own good. There’s complete silence on the drive home, no one knowing exactly what to say.
Naturally, it’s Violet who breaks it. ‘I still can’t believe Travis tried to kill us. Fucking Travis! He was always cool.’
‘Not him,’ I remind her, ‘The house.’
‘Yeah yeah.’ Violet sulks, leaning back in her seat.
‘Who’s Travis?’ Michael pipes up.
Violet smirks, meeting Michael’s eyes through the rear-view mirror. ’You’re Grandma’s ex-boyfriend.’
‘Ew.’ Michael mutters, his face one of disgust. I laugh before I can help myself and it breaks the tension as Michael launches into telling Violet about the neighbours and how he does the taxes. His eyes dance with pride as he boasts of finishing Mrs Water’s accounts in under an hour. Violet’s eyes are glazing over but she does her best to nod along at the appropriate moments.
I fill the time thanking my lucky stars. Michael may not have got exactly what he wanted, but he’s earned a sister. That’s probably the best result that could have come from everything. Violet’s already hatching plans to attend a boarding school and finish her education. ‘I’ve been dead for what, four years? So that means my mind is like nineteen while my body is still fifteen. So I’ve got mad brain-power and will ace all my SAT’s and easily get into whatever college I want-’
But as I pull into the driveway, I can no longer process a single word from Violet or Michael. The sun just creaks over the houses, illuminating the front lawn in patches of sunlight. Our refuge beckons us forwards, inviting and picturesque if it wasn’t for the woman standing on the front step. Her blonde hair is down, shining in the sunlight. Today she wears Louboutins, worn only for special occasions as she turns to face the car. Her expression is hidden behind black sunglasses and a wide hat.
‘Wait in the car.’ I order Michael and Violet as I step out. If I had to choose a moment for face her, I would never in my craziest dreams have picked now. Perhaps it’s the surge of adrenaline from Travis’ attack, maybe it’s the magic that flows stronger through my veins than ever. It could be the responsibility of the two people in my car whose lives I’d put before my very own that makes me walk right up to Cordelia Goode and tilt my head up to look her in the eyes.
Her crisp white blouse ripples in the wind, Cordelia’s arms are folded in front of each other. She makes no movement but a small smile at my display of fortitude as she blesses me with a shrewd smile. ‘Well, someone certainly has been busy.’
Summary: There was never any hope of saving Michael Langdon, never a chance to stop the apocalypse. The Antichrist was already too intertwined with his destiny, too far down the wrong path when the reader met him. But Mallory can go back and make things right and when the reader travels with her, an opportunity arises to try and make things right after all.
Words: 2.8K
Warning: Swearing! Character Death! (for a sec)
A/N: I put out the feelers a bit ago asking whether anyone would be interested in this as a series and I’m so excited to have started writing it! I’m hoping to keep most of the events canon, even the parts we saw in the Alternate Timeline. This series will explore a non-Antichrist Michael, guided by the reader as they show him that there’s always another path to take. But it’s not going to be easy. My first series and I hope you all enjoy 😘
(Banner by @michael-lives-on)
It’s the welcome tingle of wind on my arms that tells me I’m back.
I’ve done it.
The warmth of a sunny day in LA embraces me and as I push myself into a sitting position my fingers catch in the grass. My hands drop to my stomach where my soaked dress has dried. There’s no evidence of my trip through time but my own now drying blood, covering most of my front. The stab wound in my stomach is healing quickly, becoming just a scar underneath the torn fabric and I’m lucky to have escaped with something relatively minor. But the reminder of what I’ve lost will be there long after all this is over.
I may never see my Michael, the one from the Outpost again.
I can’t help but think I was never destined to have a child, to find something good and happy with Michael and for the briefest of moments I ask myself what is the point in continuing to pursue this relentless mission? Is it not better to appease whatever fate has planned and let Mallory do what she came here to do? To move on and start a new life, because whatever happens next, I know that neither Mallory and I will let the apocalypse happen a second time. By travelling back we’ve already changed things, the lives I touched even for the briefest of moments will be forever altered. If the Antichrist is destroyed, the timeline skews irrevocably and everything we do from now on could have lasting consequences.
I don’t have the luxury of wallowing in my self-pity for long. I have a choice to make: find Mallory or find Michael? Both can’t be too far away from my current position, because Mallory’s spell has brought us to a moment where the Antichrist is at ‘his most vulnerable’. I don’t think about what she’s planning to do when she finds him, it’s an obvious answer.
To my left is the cemetery where we laid Moira to rest, which is now in the future, meaning I’ll still find the old maid inside the Murder House, should I go there. It’s just a few houses up from where I’m standing, looking to be in slightly better condition than during my visit in 2017, but not by much. The iron gates are firmly closed, the entire house projecting to the neighborhood that it does not want to be disturbed by anyone. But the grass isn’t so dead and one of the upstairs windows is open, letting in the sweet breeze and it’s that detail that draws me back to the house.
I catch sight of a dog walker, his poodle nosing at a flowerbed. He scans me and then points at my clothes, “You in a play?” He offers, “Halloween ain’t for couple months yet.”
I just run, incapable of forming a credible excuse as to why I look like I’ve been massacred. My feet pelt down the sidewalk, the Murder House looming larger as I get closer. I won’t be able to do shit all if I can’t blend in, waiting for Mallory to make her move. I reach the front gates, looking out for both targets as I go. The fact that neither of them have shown up yet is getting to me, and I fight down the sinking feeling that I might already be too late.
I grit my teeth and the Murder House gates fly open, clanking as they ricochet from the force of my telekinesis. I run to the door, which flies open in a similar fashion to the gate and despite knowing a whole manner of things could try to kill me the moment I’m inside, I step into the house. I’m met by the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs and then shocked faces of Ben Harmon and Tate Langdon appear.
Tate pushes forwards, taking note of my bloody appearance. “What happened?” He asks, “Which one of them did it?”
“You can see us?” Ben’s more cautious, he remembers what they are.
Tate halts, “Can you?”
“Yes.” I say, looking between both of them. “I know who you are, I can see you and your son is in danger.”
Both men glance at each other. Perhaps it hasn’t ever been said out loud to them before, the idea of sharing a son, that Michael belongs to both of them.
I press on, “I need a change of clothes.”
“Slow down,” Ben says, “You’re covered in blood.”
“I’m not hurt.” I insist, “But I need new clothes, now.”
I pray they just help me and don’t keeping asking questions. I don’t know how much time I’ve got. Ben surges towards me, “You can trust us, if someone in this house has hurt you, then you need to let us help you.”
“You need to help me.” I say, “It’s not the house or anyone in it.” They aren’t convinced though, “If you don’t Michael is going to die.”
The ghosts of the past travel across their faces. Ben’s eyes go moist with tears, Tate’s fists clench.
“Good,” Tate hisses, “I’ve heard what he’s putting Mom through.”
“He’s your son, Tate.” Ben reasons.
I push past them, it’s taking too long. I run upstairs ignoring the indignant sound that come out of Tate’s mouth. The men give chase, shouting questions as I quickly locate Violet’s bedroom and fling the door open.
Violet Harmon screams, book dropping from her hands. I pay her no mind and start ransacking her closet for clothes that’ll work. “What the fuck is going on?” She demands, as I find a pair of jeans that might fit me and seize the first shirt I can find.
Ben and Tate stop in the doorway as I start stripping, “Jesus Christ.” Ben curses, “What is going on?”
I turn to the men and put all my attention on Tate. With just a little influence, he starts relaxing, muscles going slack against the door. “Go and look out for Michael. You tell me the second you see him.” He follows my command at once, his own feet carrying him away to the nearest vantage point.
Ben and Violet are motionless as I turn to Ben ready to do the same, but he starts talking before I do, “You don’t need to do that.” He says, “I don’t know what you are exactly, but we’ll help you because ironically, we do not condone murder in this house.”
I give them a chance, not because they can do much to help me, but because technically they’re my family too. Violet’s jeans are halfway up my legs and I make quick work of pulling them up and buttoning them, “My name is Y/N. I’m a witch.”
Violet recovers first, “Like the ones from the news?”
“What I just did on Tate, that was magic.”
Violet looks at me in awe. “Cool,” She says.
Ben however, is still having trouble. He looks as if he’s working through a challenging math problem, eyebrows furrowed and mouth moving silently.
I smirk, “You looked the same way the first time we met.” I tug down Violet’s shirt, check my scar has fully closed and make sure I look somewhat normal again in the mirror. “I don’t blame you. You were a psychiatrist, right? A man of logic and reason. Magic always befuddles you people.”
Ben shoots me a pointed look, “I’d remember meeting a witch.”
“Would you?”
Violet’s grinning. It’s probably the most excitement she’s had since her death. She’s vibrating with energy, fingers clenching and unclenching. “What do you need us to do?”
I beckon for her to follow me, “Set up the living room for a patient. If Michael’s hurt we’ll need to be ready to jump into action.”
“Why what’s going to happen to him?” Violet asks, “What are you gonna do?”
I check on Tate, Ben and Violet trailing after me. He’s doing his job, looking out at the house across from us. “Anything?”
Tate shrugs. “That’s where he lives with Mom. But there’s been nothing so far.”
I look to my three helpers, “Will you go and set up?”
“What about you?” Ben asks.
“I need to do this next part on my own.” I tell the trio, “Whatever happens, stay inside the house.”
Tate scowls at me, “As if we have a choice. And I’m not doing anything till you give me some answers.”
I level him with my best glare, “I’ll just make you do it for me then.”
Tate barges up to me, but Violet comes to my rescue, “For god’s sake Tate, there’s a real life witch who needs our help and your son’s life is at stake.” She snaps, “So get your ass downstairs before she mind-controls you again.”
Tate is speechless. He stares at Violet, completely stupefied.
Realising her mistake, Violet closes her mouth and there’s a moment of awkwardness. She collects herself and then brushes past us all, disappearing downstairs. Tate glances to Ben and with a small nod of encouragement, Tate immediately follows Violet.
Ben remains with me. He peers with me out the window for a minute and we watch the front door open. “There he is,” He says.
Sure enough a slight, young teenager has just stepped outside. I’d recognize that floppy golden hair anywhere – my Michael, younger than I ever knew him, but he’s still alive and that’s what matters.
I race downstairs and I’m about to open the front door again when doubt takes over, inhibiting me with my hand on the door handle. If Michael sees me, then what? I haven’t been able to plan further, not knowing where the hell Mallory is. The other occupants of the Murder House have started to come out of hiding, intrigued by the commotion I’m making, but none offer their help.
I move to the window next to the front door and watch as Michael makes for the Murder House, right towards me. He steps out into the road and before I can do anything to stop it, a car slams into him. My scream has Violet, Tate and Ben all running to my side, their hands full of towels. I take no notice of them and yank the door open, right as the car reverses and runs Michael over again.
I know who’s responsible and I scream her name till my vocal chords blister, “MALLORY!”
The car stops and for a wild moment I think she’s heard me, but it’s not because of me. Constance Langdon has also stepped outside, having witnessed the collision. Dread fills me because I can’t intervene, not now. I could never save Michael while Mallory is here. The rising Supreme will not rest until he’s dead, she won’t give up, and if I save Michael now at this very moment, Mallory will not only end the son of Satan, but me too.
I slump on the front porch, my legs giving way. The pain ricochets from where I land, but no one pays me any attention. Constance us watching the SUV, but my eyes are rooted to the torn up body lying motionless in the middle of the road.
There’s nothing I can do.
The car begins to accelerate again, the engine roaring as it bursts forwards for the grand finale. Mallory hits Michael for the third time with extreme force and I know it’s the deathblow. Michael rolls like a rag doll, limbs snapping and bending in all the wrong ways. The car doesn’t slow down this time, just continues to drive away as if it was never responsible in the first place.
Hatred spirals in me, so all consuming I don’t know what to do with it. I want to incinerate that car, exact vengeance and end Mallory’s life.
But I can’t. It won’t reverse what’s happened. Mallory is a good person. She never wanted her destiny, just as Michael never wanted his. To end her life would accomplish nothing. It wouldn’t help me feel any different.
I watch Constance approach Michael’s body and hide myself behind the hedge. She kneels down and takes his head in her lap. Michael’s clutching at her, his mouth moving but I can’t make out what’s he’s saying.
Constance looks towards the house and I duck down so she doesn’t see me. Violet appears beside me, making me jump. “You have to help him right?” She pleads, her eyes full of tears. “You’re a witch.”
“I don’t know how.” I admit, “I’m too late.”
A tear makes its way down Violet’s cheek, but her expression is fire. “No, I don’t accept that.” She says, “No more death. Go over there. Heal him, bring him back, do what you have to.”
“I can’t do anything while she’s there.” I say, keeping an eye on Constance. “I don’t know what she’ll do.”
“She’s a bitch.” Violet says, “She’ll leave him to die.”
“She’s his Grandma.” I reason, “She must love him?”
But my statement comes out as question and Violet doesn’t have an answer. No, Constance was in love with the idea of raising the perfect child and when Michael turned out not to be that dream, she wanted nothing to do with him. Violet and I peer round the hedge as Constance shoves Michael off of her and heads back into the house. She doesn’t turn back, if she had she would have seen us gawping at her from the hedge.
My mouth falls open in horror, but Violet just says, “Told you.”
But I’m thinking about her previous words and the beginnings of an idea are swirling. I know I’m going to see him, I know what I’m going to do, and my feet carry me automatically over to Michael Langdon’s broken body.
I’ve got to try.
It’s so much harder than I thought it would be, as I approach him and the urge to run hits me, to not watch. He’s gurgling, crying in confusion and pain and it’s so pitiful that I’m crying again and I can’t speak as I watch him choke on his own blood. His beautiful face is marred with deep wounds, cuts crisscross over his skin and bruises have burst onto his neck and chest. He searches for someone, for anyone to help him and finally those blue eyes fall on me. Michael tries to reach for me, his voice only capable of the tiniest whimpers, but he can’t. He doesn’t have it left in him and I sink down beside him in the middle of the road.
He scrabbles at me and I take his hands in my own, tears rolling down my cheeks as he pleads with me, voice cracking on every note.
“Help me, please.”
And I know what I have to do, as I reach out and brush away the blonde curls that have stuck to his forehead, matted with blood and lift his head into my lap.
I have to let him die.
“Please.” He begs, and maybe he is asking for me to end it. Maybe he can still sense the magic between us and it’s so hard to keep looking at him. The guilt is too much. I see the anger flitter across Michael’s face, that I would stay by his side but not help him, but he can’t hurt me anymore and I fight to keep my face neutral. He struggles with his words, “I’m sorry.” I wait for him to finish, my fingers threading through his hair. He continues to cry, fat tears rolling down his plump cheeks, still a little round with youth. They disappear into his ears, dripping onto Violet’s jeans. He’s so young as I wipe away his tears the moment they come.
“It’ll be better soon.” I whisper, “I promise.”
“I don’t want to go.” He presses, “You have to save me.”
I lean down to kiss him, still so familiar even though in this lifetime we have only just met. I can feel his life-force leaving his body and Michael panics, taking in a sharp stab of pain, “I’ll be so good.” He vows, “I’ll stop. I know I can.” I grip him harder as I fight with myself and my risky, crazy choice. “Please.”
I hush him, rocking him back and forth as much as I think he can take. “I will,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his forehead.
Michael’s hands go slack in mine, and when I pull away I know he’s gone.
My vision’s a blur, awash with tears, my shoulder heave at having lost him a second time. I steel myself, gripping his hands tighter in my own till my hands start to go numb. I move my lips over his own, covering his body with mine and breathe into his mouth.
