Michael had nearly had a complete nervous breakdown after Regan miscarried, and Ms. Mead's death. Suddenly he felt powerless, scared, and exposed. He had been betrayed. One second he had become the next Supreme. The warlocks worshiped him, had arranged so he was protected and supported. Ms. Mead had stayed in the shadows, and helped him the entire time. She told him they were using the warlocks to use magic in gaining power. He trusted her, and loved her as the mother he never had. Whenever he thought of the spirit of his biological mother trying to murder him, a dull the overcame his chest. His own biological father hated him, his grandmother killed herself to be rid of him, and his birth mother had attempted in killing him when his power was just beginning to be discovered. After that, Ms. Mead took him in. She was the one who loved him, guided him, always had the right answers, and gave him the comfort he so badly wanted and needed. She told him pieces of the plan. He would gain the trust of those foolish warlocks, become the next supreme displaying his powers, and within time Ms. Mead would tell him what they would do next. She never lost her temper, she never shouted, or raised a hand to him.
No...she worshiped him.
She told him they had to be patient. That she would be at his side, and within no time he would rule the world. He would follow in his true father's footsteps, and everything would fall into place perfectly. With Ms. Mead he felt safe, at home, and loved. Ms. Mead had also brought Regan into his life. He never believed he could actually feel love, and have someone as a partner stand by his side. It amazed him how much he fell in love with Regan. How wounded, and helpless she was when he saved her from that bastard of a father, and had her accept him as what he was. She was timid, a little mousy on the outside, and amazed him by how eager she was to love him and stand by his side no matter what. Michael remembered so many nights at Ms. Mead's, his real home. He remembered laying in his double shared bed with Regan. His arms wrapped around his wife, a word that still amazed him. He still couldn't believe that he was actually married. That he had found someone who knew where he came from, and didn't treat him like some monster.
She was just like him, young mentally, naive, and needed him as much as she needed him. Most nights they would make love, and afterwards drift off to sleep in each other's arms. He remembered not that long ago laying in bed, still awake, staring down at her as she slept, feeling so much love in his heart it felt dangerous. He knew if anyone ever tried to hurt her again he would destroy them. When he learned of her pregnancy he truly couldn't have been any happier. Those brief months are busy and crazy ones as he met the warlocks and got ready for the Seven Wonders. Then everything fell apart. The warlocks who had supported him were killed, as was Ms. Mead and those bitch witches and Supreme made it impossible for him to ever bring her back. Regan miscarried, giving birth to a stillborn lifeless daughter before going into a coma.
Michael remembered wandering into the forest and nearly four days later stumbled out hallucinating, weakened, and nearly insane. He had visited his poor wife in the hospital, listening to the machines beep and click as she laid pale in the hospital bed, tubes and wires sticking out of her. He was shaking all over, hunched down, gathering her thin hand with an IV going into it. He gently grasped it with his own hands, before deeply moaning, waning more than anything than to have Ms. Mead to be here with him, to comfort him, and tell him what to do next. He wanted Regan to wake up, he wanted his daughter to still be safely growing inside her belly, he wanted to not be alone, and feel so lost... He wanted everything to just slow down and stop. He wanted Ms. Mead back, he wanted his wife to wake up, and he wanted his daughter...
He had held his lifeless daughter after she had been delivered, small, gray, like a cold dead slug. He secretly had tried to cast a spell to bring her back, to watch his tiny daughter's blueish gray color to suddenly become rosy and flushed. He so badly wanted to suddenly see life swell inside his child, as the baby started crying out, alive, warm, and healthy. Instead nothing. He had stood in the empty hospital room, feeling so small and frightened himself. He held his dad baby, eyes narrowing, focused, glaring as he concentrated deeply to try and bring his baby back. If he could do this one thing, maybe suddenly his Regan would magically wake up. Everything would somehow fall into place. He would do anything to see the look on Regan's face as her long eyelashes fluttered open, and seeing him light up as soon as he sat by her side and handed their beautiful daughter over, alive, warm, and squirming and thinly crying. Somehow even without Ms. Mead if he had his family he could figure out somehow how to deal with everything.
He could fix things, he knew he could... Instead...nothing.
He tried for over an hour tears spilling down his cheeks as he held the tiny corpse of his daughter, before finally his head ached so badly he thought he might pass out. He shook all over, his nose thinly bleeding, before he muttered an exhausted cry and lowered his head softly whispering...
The baby was dead, and Regan remained in her coma. He had visited her several times in the hospital, broken down, and worried sick. That's when he stumbled upon the cult of Devil worshipers, and these people led him to the company that could make another Ms. Mead. When Regan finally woke, he tightly squeezed her hands knowing his destiny. He promised her he would never allow anything to happen to her. Little did both of them know less than a year and a half later, he would be the one to harm her.
By violently raping her and impregnating her with his true heir.
Michael stared down the hallway at his wife. She stood heavily pregnant, her hair sweeping across her pale face as she stared at him with heartbroken exhausted eyes.
"I loved you so much Michael...so much that I turned a blind eye to what you really were, and what you were responsible for. This has gone on long enough now my darling...I can't allow it anymore."
Cordelia suddenly knew what to do, she used her powers to grab a knife, as she turned away from Myrtle, and watched from the side room just out of sight. She listened to this poor girl's voice, so broken, so defeated. Michael stared at Regan as she swayed in the doorway. Behind her as the serial back staircase, thirty or so feet down was the cement floor below. Regan stood staring at her husband, his beautiful face, speckled with blood. Suddenly his eyes went to her stomach, a flicker of concern and panic flashed before them.
Regan swayed for a hand, before her hand came from behind her back holding the sharp blade. She aimed it to her stomach.
"I'll see you in Hell darling...I'll be waiting there, with your son in my arms."
Michael suddenly knew what she was doing. She stared at him, a single tear rolling down her face as another contraction ripped through her. She stiffened a cry, lightly biting down on her bottom lip before suddenly she raised the blade and plunged it through her stomach. It made a sickening wet noise as the place punched through the tight skin of her stomach, splashing blood up in a jet spray. Michael's eyes widened, his mouth forming a perfect "O". Regan twisted the blade deeper into her, as her face crumpled in agony before she let go, blood spraying everywhere, before she swayed and fell backwards, right off the ledge, and plunging down to the hard cement floor below. Michael's eyes stayed wide in shock as he screamed...
Taking off running, boots pounding the floor, he ran as fast as he could, before skidding to a halt and looking down, his long red hair hanging in his face. Staring down, he stared and saw Regan's body sprawled out on the floor below, laying in a huge puddle of blood. Staring down, Michael began shaking all over. Breaking out into a run, he hurried down the stairs, his dinner jacket flapping behind him as he skipped two, three steps at a time. Reaching the floor, he fell to his knees, skidding in his wife's blood before he stared down at her. Shaking all over, he stared down. Outraged, he stared down at her, blood still pumping from the handle of the knife that stuck out of her stomach. Micheal's face crumpled as he gathered her up in his arms, blood soaking into his clothes and smearing against her hands and face. Cradling her, he let out a half outraged defeated sob.
"What did you do?! Why Regan...why?"
His hand went to her swollen stomach which thick syrup like blood had slowed to a trickle against his knife that protruded out of her. He felt for his son, and instead felt nothing. He knew she had stabbed him, and killed him. Their second child now gone... He firmly held his hand against her stomach which blood trickled over his thin fingers, before he stared down at her. Tears were still rolling from her half closed eyes. If he knew there was even a chance, he would have ripped his son straight from her womb that very instant. Instead, he knew it was over. He knelt there, holding his wife in his arms, his face crumbling a he shook all over.
"What did you do? What did you do?"
He softly whispered feeling absolutely hopeless as she weakly stared up at him, blood bubbling from her lips.
"Because my darling...we were meant to be dead."
She said barley above a whisper. Michael glared down, frustrated shocked tears falling from his own narrow eyes before Regan's gaze shifted, as she stared off to the side dead. A hush washed over them, before Cordelia slowly came down the stairs, her own knife in her hand. Michael slowly looked up, still holding his wife's lifeless dead body with his murdered son still inside before he could even be born.
Michael slowly gazed up, his hair hanging down, his eyes burning with hate as he held onto Regan's dead body. No, he could fix this. First he could slaughter the rest of these witches, then he could bring back Regan and his son, yes...he knew he was powerful enough to do that.
He couldn't lose Ms. Mead, Regan, and another child again...no...he wouldn't allow it.
"You haven't won anything..."
He hissed. Cordelia sadly shook her head staring down at the young girl's corpse who had been unlucky enough to have gotten wrapped up with the likes of Michael Langdon...
"You still haven't gotten it have you?"
As Cordelia continued to talk to Michael about the simple facts that there wasn't just winning and losing, Myrtle left Mallory and approached the edge of the stairwell. The sight below was shocking. She stared down at the young pregnant bride of Michael laying in a pool of blood dead. Michael continued kneeling there, holding her lifeless bloody body as Cordelia finished her speech, raising the knife she had above her heart.
"Satan may have one son...but my sisters are legion mother fucker!"
With that she plunged the blade straight into her heart. The second it happened Myrtle's eyes widened as she screamed down below...
Cordelia smiled at Michael's stunned expression before she collapsed...at that exact moment Mallory awoke, surged with strength as suddenly the water in the tub began to boil as she started shouting the spell. Within seconds her body sank down below the surface and for just a few mere moments before everything became dim, Michael stared at the dead supreme, knowing something terrible was happening. Turning his attention back to his dead wife, he squeezed her blood dead corpse against him, and squeezed his eyes shut. He could bring her back.
He knew he could...
But none of that happened. Mallory ran Michael over three times, leaving him for dead, knowing she had been able to return to a different space in time where she had prevented Michael to rising to power. She had found him when he was his weakest, and still very human. She had locked eyes for just a moment with Michael's grandmother, and saw some unspoken sense of relief and thanks sweep over the woman's eyes. With that, she threw her car into gear and drove down the road, taking a look at the beautiful neighborhood knowing at least this would give this world a small fighting chance... At that exact moment Regan, the mousey young pretty girl who worked at the library and lived with his abusive father was walking home from running to the small mini-market to get her father cigarettes. She hadn't seen the car, but instantly her eyes widened seeing the young man in the jean jacket laying in the middle of the road.
It took her a second to truly register what she was seeing, before a man walking his dog on the opposite side of the street spotted it as well.
"Oh my God!"
Regan broke out into a run and approached the body. It was bad, real bad. The young man's body was positioned in such a way she knew his legs were completely broken. The man with the dog hurried over, holding his dog taunt against him.
Regan's eyes were frantic as she knelt down beside him.
"I don't know, it must have been a hit and run. Do you have a phone?"
The man nodded, taking his I phone out of his pocket, and dialed quickly even though just looking at this poor kid he knew he was as good as dead. Regan stared down at the young man. His handsome bright blue eyes weakly stared up at her. He tried to speak but instead gurgled up some blood. Feeling her heart break for him, Regan gently brushed his bangs back with her cupped hand.
"Shhhh...don't try to talk. We're calling an ambulance...you're going to be okay."
Regan knew this was a lie, but she needed to try and comfort this poor guy. He looked roughly around her age even though she had never seen him before.
He barley whispered, blood bubbling up between his lips. Regan's eyebrows raised before she glanced over at the huge brick house across the street. "Do you live there?" The guy walking the dog, on the phone shook his head and motioned over.
"No way, that house has been empty for years."
He then continued to talk to the 911 dispatcher giving directions to the street. Regan stared down at the young man who's chest heaved. Feeling sorry, she scooted closer, and gently continued brushing his soft hair back, trying to give him any sense of comfort if he very well was going to die here on the street.
Right before Michael's heart stopped and he died, for just a fraction of a second he locked eyes up with Regan's. They stared at each other not knowing that in another life...in another timeline both had been in love and had lost two children, both damned from the very beginning. For Michael Langdon, the antichrist...a monster...this would be the closest he would ever get to feeling true love. With that, Michael shook, before his gaze went off and he peacefully died. Regan sighed, before the man with the dog stepped closer, holding his phone to his side.
"Ambulance is coming."
Regan sighed befrie reaching down and gently shutting the young man's beautiful faded blue eyes. Sighing, she continued brushing his hair back, hating that whoever did this had driven away like a coward.
"Doesn't matter...he's dead."
Regan sighed, knowing she shouldn't move the body. She felt, and saw he had no wallet. Here this stranger died before her...and she didn't even know his name.
- Thanks for all the kind reviews! Would love to do one based off 1984!