Author's Note: I want to say up front that I am not completely familiar with the original Halloween series. I've just recently watched the Rob Zombie remake. What I know about original Halloween I've learned through Wikipedia and Youtube. This story just came to me iat around 1:oo am after a night spent skimming through the archives and I had to get it out. So I apologize in advance for any OOCness, though Michael will be somewhat OOC since he's going to be "cured." Any comments or suggestions about the story are most welcome. I'll even take flames, so long as they're not too hot.
That being said, let's get on with it...
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the voices in my head. John Carpenter owns the rest.
Bitter Cure
When the chanting stopped, when the candles flared bright blue then snuffed themselves out, when the cold gust of wind blew through the room and ruffled her hair, Laurie knew the ritual was over. Michael still lay in the center of the pentagram where they had bound him. A soft pearly glow was slowly dissipating from his body.
"It is done," said the High Priest. He beat his staff against the ground one, two, three times, then made a gesture with his hands as if he were brushing away moths. "Thurisaz has left him. So mote it be."
"So mote it be."
Those formal words repeated by every Druid in the circle sent shivers down Laurie's spine. She really wasn't sure if she believed any of this shit, that her estranged brother suffered from an ancient curse which drove him to kill his family or that these white robed wackos really had the power to cure him. But she had reached the point where she was willing to try anything if it meant she didn't have to spend one night a year fleeing in terror from a crazed psycho with a knife. Besides, she had a daughter to worry about now.
Catching Michael had been an ordeal all by itself. Laurie had used herself as bait since she couldn't have lived with it if anyone else had died just for being in Michael's way. She had run screaming through the streets like a demented banshee with Michael in hot pursuit, his damned butcher knife held high. She'd half expected to feel the knife slashing into her back before she made it halfway to the abandoned warehouse where they'd set the trap. But she had made it and when she'd come bursting through the door with Michael hot on her heels, her new friends had been ready with their tranq guns. It had taken ten shots of elephant tranquilizer before Michael had finally collapsed. They'd had to pry the knife from his fingers. Laurie had stood nearby the whole time they were chaining him up, biting her nails and telling them to work fast. She knew from experience how tenacious her brother could be.
Now it was over. The Druids had done their thing, said their mumbo-jumbo, and blown smelly incense around. It was over and she could have her brother back sane and whole and without those pesky killing urges. Little Jamie wouldn't have to be scared of the Boogieman anymore.
Right?
"You may approach him. It is safe now," said the High Priest, motioning towards Michael.
You really don't know him, do you? Laurie thought. At least he's still chained up. I might have a ten second head start if I have to run for it.
Slowly, she walked towards the spot where Michael lay.
She got close enough to where she could see the rise and fall of his chest. Aside from that telltale sign of life he was motionless. They hadn't tried to take his mask off. It glowed eerily in the wan light of the few remaining candles. Every muscle in Laurie Strode's body was tensed to run as she stood over the prone body of Michael Myers.
His eyes snapped open and focused on her. She took a step back, overbalanced, and fell to her knees beside him. She had barely started scrabbling away from him when his mouth opened and a gurgling noise came from his throat.
It took a massive amount of effort to ignore the self-preservation instincts yammering at her to run. Her heart pounded in her chest as she leaned in closer, and heard Michael say in a small, weak, croak of a voice.
"Laurie?"