#post!verse

It had been a few years since Mike had supposedly been killed. And he nearly had, too, by that useless meth cook all those years ago. Somehow it hadn't turned out that way, and now here he was, standing tall, all the way back in Philadelphia. He ran under a different last name now, and was using Michael instead of Mike when he introduced himself; this was all just a precaution, because he still hadn't heard on whether or not Walter White had bit the bullet.

If Giles had been awake, he might have been able to defend himself against the cloud if black smoke that poured through his window. At least he would have tried, though the flask of holy water on his bedside table would have at best staved off the inevitable. Once possessed, the watcher made his way into Adam’s room, and with very little trouble pulled him upright enough to tie his hands behind him. It was lucky that Giles kept shackles that could hold the antichrist, which Adam had insisted on.

Once the young man was detained, he made his way into Willow’s room, where Icarus had joined her in bed. He held a hand tight over her mouth and nose, intending to force her deeper into unconsciousness, but instead she roused. The witch broke away long enough to wake Icarus, whom promptly teleported away at her command. Cursing, Giles grabbed the witch by the hair and threw her against the wall, knocking her out.