Give Me Love --- Michael Langdon [[Book One Complete]]

Part 2

Amy wasn't sure what time it was when she was woken up. Her long lashes fluttered open and it was still dark.

"No, no, no..." she heard, making her sit up in bed. Her blue eyes scanned the area as they adjusted to the dark until they landed on the other bed. Ah yes, he was here. He was thrashing in bed, the moonlight illuminating his face. She could see his furrowed brow and his wet cheeks and she rolled her eyes. Of course, the Antichrist had to be a fucking baby. And she was bunking with someone who had nightmares. Yay . She sat there for a moment longer hoping it would pass but it didn't. She heaved a sigh as she got up, rubbing her tired eyes. She had class early the next morning and she needed her fucking sleep. She stood over him and blinked down at his sleeping form. For someone so evil he looked oddly human when he was having a nightmare. He was shaking his head frantically, clawing at his chest.

"Michael, wake up," she said softly. He didn't respond and she pursed her lips, tapping his face lightly.

"Asshole, wake the fuck up," she hissed. Still no response. She perched on the end of his bed and tapped his face a little harder. A squeak left her lips when he sat upright in an instant and both his hands were around her throat. This time he was squeezing her so hard she couldn't breathe. His eyes were completely black and her blue eyes widened with horror as she clawed at his hands desperately. He suddenly let her go, his eyes turning blue once more as he looked at her with wide eyes. She sucked in air greedily, coughing slightly as she rubbed her tender throat.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean..." he started sobbing and all she could do was look at him incredulously. What the fuck was even happening? She knew the tears were genuine as he scooted away from her and tugged harshly at his hair. She hadn't expected him to feel bad for hurting her. Didn't he enjoy that kind of thing? He was almost hysterical and she blinked at him. She didn't expect the Antichrist to be so emotional or even feel bad for anything. It was only more confusing for her.

"It's fine. Stop being such a little bitch," she huffed, her voice hoarse from having the life choked out of her.

He sniffled, wiping his eyes as he looked at her and she stood up.

"Just go the fuck to sleep," she ordered harshly as she walked back to her bed without a second glance. She was perturbed honestly. It wasn't the fact he had choked her or even the black eyes. That was to be expected. What wasn't to be expected was how human he was. How he was like a young boy. She hated that a part of her wondered if Cordelia had been right. That he hadn't meant the things he'd done. That people had led him down this path. That he could be saved. It couldn't be possible. He was the son of Satan . She could still hear him sniffling as she lay in bed and she tried to ignore it. If they were fake tears it would be more reassuring than this bullshit. She just wanted some peace. She wanted her own room back. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to go back to sleep. For some reason, she felt a little more sure he wouldn't just kill her in her sleep. Twice now he'd had the chance and hadn't taken it. He'd even managed to snap out of whatever the fuck that was with the black eyes.

When she woke in the morning, she glanced over to find Michaels bed empty and made. The clothes he slept in were neatly folded in a pile by the pillow. She wondered if he'd left in the night but she knew he hadn't. She didn't know how but she knew she wasn't that lucky. She had woken up late, no doubt because of being woken in the night. She quickly got herself dressed in a black wrap dress and combat boots, tossing her wavy hair up in a haphazard high ponytail. She glanced in the mirror and her throat was bruised. She could have easily run to Cordelia and told her how the boy tried to strangle her, not once but twice. That even the black eyes made an appearance. But not only would Cordelia think her point was proven that there was hope for him when she learnt that the first time she had provoked him and he hadn't hurt her, and the second time he had turned into a crying child when he realised what he had done. But she also felt... what? Bad? She didn't know. Seeing his reaction after choking the shit out of her made her wonder about him. Enough so that she ended up putting foundation over the marks and hiding them. She still didn't like him. She was still wary. But she didn't think it was time to send a mob with pitchforks just yet.