Michael fully intended to leave the house but coming off the stairs, he found his path to the door blocked. He paused only a beat before closing in on the individual in his way.

"Get out of my way, Doctor Harmon," he said with a scowl that meant business.

Ben didn't move but he opened his arms to his sides, a gesture intended to convey his desire to talk. "Michael, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to leave. What are you doing?" Michael countered, tucking his shirt in before closing the last few steps between them.

"I meant with Constance," said Ben. "With Vivien. With Father Jeremiah."

Michael's lips pursed briefly, and he glanced away. He wasn't prepared for such a blunt encounter. Ben saw the moment of weakness and dove at it. It could be his only chance.

"Do you even have a plan?" Ben pressed. He put a hand on the young man's shoulder and felt him twitch.

Michael didn't look at him but stared off broodily into the side room.

"I know you don't want to hurt Vivien," Ben went on, trying to lay down some quick psychological floorboards. "She's your mother."

The statement chafed and Michael pulled away from the man. "No, she isn't. She might've birthed me, but she lived here all this time and never ONCE—" He pulled a sharp breath because his throat was constricting, and his eyes and nose were starting to burn with tears. When he spoke next, he tried to sound calm, but his throat was still too constricted to sound normal. "She's never been a mother to me."

"You're wrong," Ben said with grim confidence. "She wanted me to take you from this place." He flinched at his own failure. The memories still hurt as much as ever. "I was going to but by the time I tried, it was too late. Ghosts in the house strangled me. They wanted you but Constance got to you first."

Michael had heard threads of that story but that was more detail than he'd heard before. He sniffed as the held-back tears made his nose run. "And Vivien just let her take me."

"We were dead, Michael," Ben implored, reaching for him again. "You needed a living adult to take care of you—"

"I don't need anybody!" Michael exploded. He shoved the man away, making sure to connect with the spirit's essence in case the ghost doctor tried to phase out.

Surprised by the sudden, sharp pain that came with the push, Ben was easily swept to the side. He staggered and sat down hard, clutching his chest. He felt like he was having a heart attack and no amount of telling himself that he was dead would stop it.

Michael left the house, slamming the door behind him.

—

The tires of the car squealed on the old, broken pavement as Michael tore around the corner with the gas pedal to the floor. He swung wide, clear across three lanes before straightening out. But even having to correct for his wild driving wasn't enough to take his mind off the encounter with Dr. Harmon.

Tate must have told him about what happened in the attic. Which was stupid because it was all just bullshit anyway. Stuff he had spouted just to screw with Tate since nothing else seemed to get through to him. Now Vivien probably knew, too. That bothered Michael, though he didn't know why. Frustrated, he punched the dashboard a few times.

It was in that distracted moment that he took his eyes off the road and didn't see the large shape that loomed in the fog before him. The sudden impact slammed him forward, into the steering wheel. The world went black.

—

The sound of the hissing radiator was the first thing Michael registered. Next came pain. Lots of pain. His chest and right leg hurt too much to move. Something on his left side felt like it was grinding inside him. He smelled the strong scent of gasoline. Fog had crept in through the busted windshield, hazing his view of the crumpled front end of the car. The engine was almost in his lap.

He tried to open the car door, but it wouldn't budge. Trying to put strength into the motion only brought him more pain. He tried to grasp what had happened, but he hadn't seen what he hit and currently it was a dark mass in the mist. It wasn't moving. It was too big to be another car and the wrong mass to be a truck.

Pain made Michael's head swim. He forced himself to think through the agony. If he could heal others, surely he could heal himself. He had never tried to fix himself on purpose before and he had always suspected his return from the dead had more to do with the Dragon than it had to do with his own self-resurrecting abilities. It was time to find out.

He drew a painful breath and shut his eyes but trying to focus through the pain was extremely difficult. He found himself almost passing out, so he opened his eyes again and just tried to fix the damage that way.

Nothing happened. The pain didn't lessen. He wanted to groan but he didn't want to attract the attention of anything that might be hunting in the fog. He knew he couldn't fight off anything in the state he was in.

Helplessness gave rise to anger. He was supposed to be a living god and yet he couldn't even solve the most basic of curves life was throwing at him. His family was a wreck and now so was his car. The rage ignited him, kickstarting his system. The familiar warm rush of power flowed through him only this time it was his injuries the energy targeted.

Feeling his tissues knit at high speed was a bizarre sensation. It itched but on the inside, in places he couldn't possibly scratch. That soon passed into an electric feeling. In just a few seconds, he felt whole again. Better than before, in fact, as the energy had fixed a number of minor accumulated issues. He was able to pull himself up through the broken windshield where he rolled off the smashed hood of the car to land on his feet in the street.

The damaged headlights flickered on the fog, casting eerie motion over the otherwise still shape ahead. Whatever he hit hadn't moved at all. Either it was dead, unconscious, or something that had never been alive to begin with.

Already he could feel his hunger growing. He knew in just a few seconds he would be ravenous. His healing powers always demanded blood. He was torn between investigating shadowy form and finding a food source. He hated to leave the scene uninvestigated but the idea of gorging himself uncontrollably on some random thing from the fog was too gross. So, he abandoned the mangled car to hunt down something he could stomach.

…

One week later…

Nox was a higher-end nightclub in Sin City. The city was what remained of Las Vegas in the aftermath of the apocalypse. Within the solid concrete walls, one could almost believe the world outside hadn't ended. Diffused lasers cut through darkness in time to an old song by the Cure. Cigarette smoke hazed the air. Glasses clinked as rich patrons sipped exotic alcohols. Two iron cages held dancers, a boy and a girl, both virtually nude and beautiful in their rhythmic throes and contortions.

Zoe had been in the city for nearly three years and found it to her liking. The club scene provided her with plenty of sustenance and her powers insured she only dealt with the wealthiest men. Over the years she had refined her hunting skills and diet, so she didn't have to kill them. It was like eating lite, but it spared her conscience and kept her in a steady supply of men who thought she had simply fucked them senseless.

It had been a good night. Zoe felt a little tipsy from glutting herself on that last client. He had been exceptionally prime, clean and sweet. She hoped he would become a regular. After changing from her strappy black leather lingerie into more comfortable street clothes, she lit a cigarette and headed for the club's back exit.

The pinboard next to the door boasted no new job leads; just a flyer for the upcoming zombie fights. Championship zombie-fighting wasn't Zoe's thing, but it always brought in a rush of new clients. She shoved through the back door and stepped out into a hot night.

"Ah, here she is at last."

Zoe immediately recognized the man's distinct German accent, unchanged after so many years. She turned around, toward the source, and saw him leaning against the wall near the door. He was dressed all in black and was barefoot, his long blond hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. He looked exactly like she remembered.

"Pietre," she said. "It's been a long time."

"Indeed, it has, my dear," he agreed. "You remember Tisi, Alec, and Meg?"

He made a slight motion with his left hand and the albino triplets seemed to fade from the shadows, flanking her. None looked as old as they should, but they all looked quite a bit worse for wear. Meg especially looked unkempt and hollow-eyed.

"Uh. Yeah," Zoe acknowledged. She was starting to sense this wasn't a friendly reunion. "What do you want, Pietre?"

"Direct as ever," the warlock smiled. "Very well. We will play your way. I want the Daggers of Armageddon."

Zoe hadn't thought of the relics in years. "O…kay. Why?"

"That hardly matters," Pietre said, still smiling. He moved closer to her. "Where are they?"

Zoe stood her ground though she felt a strong urge to step back. The man had always given her a case of the willies and it was even worse now than it had been back in the coven. Of course, that place had been ensorcelled by several generations of witches. Now, Zoe was out in the open, on her own. She could handle human men. She wasn't sure what her odds were against a warlock and his coven.

"The Daggers are safe," Zoe said carefully. "Tell me why you want them, and I'll tell you where they are."

Pietre chuckled. "Such a playful thing," he said, as though he was watching an exotic species of animal cavort. "I want them because they are mine. I only meant for you to borrow and use them, not for you to run off with them."

"You should have been more specific," Zoe smirked. She pulled a last hit off her cigarette then tossed it on the ground.

Pietre's patience reached its limit and he lashed out, catching her by the neck with one hand. The triplets crowded in, ready for anything.

"Where are the Daggers?" Pietre demanded.

His grip was iron around her throat. She clawed at him ineffectively. He was allowing her air, but she didn't want to be restrained. She tried summoning some fire and even felt a bit of a sizzle start at the hem of his coat, but he put it out effortlessly.

"So predictable," the warlock chided. "Just like Madison. You know what that means, children?" He was addressing the albinos now. "Most likely the Daggers are with their pet. What was his name?"

"Kyle," Tisi supplied eagerly.

"He doesn't know where they are," Zoe insisted. "Let me go and I'll show you. I promise."

Pietre gave her a scrutinizing look then smiled. "The promises of a succubus to a man are a petty thing indeed. How about this for a deal instead?" The triplets drew in closer to them, forming a tight ring around her along with the warlock. "How about we take you back to Fiona and you can tell her where the Daggers are? Yes?"

Zoe lowered her chin, trying to loosen his grip that way but he only tightened his hold. "Fiona's dead," she grunted. "We killed her."

His smile widened. "Don't be so sure."

She lashed out with a kick aimed at his shin, but he sidestepped the blow. The triplets were on her in an instant, binding her with ropes that had been ensorcelled for that very purpose. She cursed at them and tried screaming for help, as weak as that was, but Pietre silenced her with a quick sleep spell.

"It won't last long," he warned the trio as they hustled her into the back of the unmarked black van. "Makes sure she's secured inside the pentagram. Triple-check everything before she wakes. We surprised her this time. We won't be so lucky again if she gets free."

...

Author's Note:

If you haven't read my Season 3 AU story, Zoe's segment should just about catch you up to speed on that side of things. I had fun with Sin City. I might have to write a stand-alone story about the city sometime in the future. Seems like a happening place full of interesting things and people.

So Michael can heal himself now. He's almost very-nearly invincible by practical standards. If there's a second coming of Christ or an emergence of Superman or something to save the world... it better do it quick!

Next time: Michael's birthday is right around the corner and things are getting weird in the Montgomery Mansion.