Hard to Hate You // Michael Langdon

Part XII - Flashback

When I open my eyes, I am laying on concrete.  I slowly pull myself to my feet and look around.  This is most definitely pre-apocalypse; the sky is blue and I can hear cars in the distance.  

I sigh, breathing in the fresh air.  It's been so long since I've felt a breeze.

I turn back around to study my surroundings.  It seems that I'm in the middle of a dam.  A good distance away from me, there are three large stakes in the ground with heaps of charred material at their bases.  What the hell is that stuff?  It almost looks like bodies...

I turn and see Michael behind me.  "Where the hell are we?" I ask.

He appears slightly emotional, but he quickly clears his throat and composes himself.  "A dam in LA, a year or two before the apocalypse."

"What the hell is by each of those stakes?" I question.  

"You'll find out soon enough," he replies ominously.

Before I can further question him, a young man, probably just a year or two younger than me, runs into the dam.  He approaches each of the heaps on the sides, seemingly shaken, as I turn to Michael.  "Is that you?"

He nods as his younger self begins slowly walking towards the middle one, arm outstretched.  "This is a memory."

I raise a brow to question him, but he quickly reaches for me.  Before I can back away, his fingertips touch my temple.

I gasp as pain and grief overwhelm me to the point where I can't even stand on my feet.  I fall to my knees the same time that younger Michael falls to his.  Flashes of his memories of Ms. Mead flash through my mind as his sorrow drowns out all my other thoughts.

The memories eventually stop and I force myself to sit up.  I wipe the tears that I didn't even know were there from my eyes while I try to calm myself.  

I try desperately to dissociate myself; once I block out the empathy, the pain will go away too.  However, it seems to not be working as I feel my heart breaking with Michael's.

Michael slowly kneels by my side.  "Is this enough for you?" he asks.

"God, that was a lot," I mutter, trying to compose myself.

We look up to watch Cordelia Goode approaching younger Michael.  Michael tenses up from beside me upon seeing her.  I can't hear what she's saying, but whatever she says upsets younger Michael as he falls to the ground yet again.

"She was telling me that I had failed," Michael explains shortly.  "Now she's trying to get me to be good."

"Are you serious?  She's trying to get you to be good right after she killed Ms. Mead and told you that you failed?" I shake my head.  "No wonder you caused the apocalypse; she used the worst possible tactic to try to win you over."

He sighs as he looks down.

"Wait a minute," I mutter as I turn to him, an idea forming.  "You know, this whole apocalypse idea seems to just be your whole revenge at the witches.  That's why you're refusing to let the witches go; you only caused the apocalypse to kill them."

"That's not true," he denies.  "I started the apocalypse because I'm the Antichrist and that's my duty."

"But the reason why you really caused the apocalypse was because you thought it would kill the witches."  I slowly reach down and take his hand.  "Look me in the eyes and tell me that you still would've caused the apocalypse had you killed all the witches."

He looks away, refusing to meet my face.  I take his chin in my hands and force him to meet my eyes.  This is my first time to see him truly vulnerable, so I'm sure as hell using it to push my agenda.