Chapter 19:

It has quite literally been years since I updated this fic, so if any of you are still out there and waiting for this...I'm sorry! Life got in the way, but I'm gradually returning to fic; my aim is to finish all of the WIPs I've had on the go for years before I start any new ones - so fans of Shadow Realms and Dissolution, watch this space because they're about to get finished, too!

This fic only has another two chapters in it, so prepare yourselves.

A final note: over the past few years, my writing style has changed dramatically - the result of university and getting old, I presume. I've done my best to mimic the style of previous chapters, but it was a bit of a struggle, so I apologise in advance if any of this writing is convulted in any way.

Michael's POV:

He paced and paced, his thoughts tangled and indecipherable even to himself, as he tried desperately to understand what had happened over the last few hours. It seemed inconceivable that his grandfather had returned from the dead; if it was possible, why hadn't Amelie ordered it to be done as soon as Sam died?

Every part of what Oliver had said seemed like a trick to Michael; it was a way for Oliver to save the day and destroy all allies in the process. It seemed too simple for Sam to have returned, and for one of the five to be the solution to destroying the Draug.

And yet at the same time, there was enough truth in the matter to convince at least part of Michael that Oliver was telling the truth. That the sacrifice of one of the Elders would be enough to defeat the Draug was obvious: whilst Oliver and Myrnin weren't the eldest of the vampires in Morganville, they were the most powerful, and this society seemed to rely on power rather than age. Most of the time, anyway.

It made sense that Sam would be a potential solution: if he really had returned from the dead then there had to be something different about him than the rest of the vampires—or humans—in town. After all, he had been dead for more than six months: to be walking around again was nothing short of a miracle. And with that came Michael. Blood was power, particularly within the realms of science Myrnin worked in, and any sort of tenuous blood connection with any of the four other 'applicants' would be enough to work, Michael was sure. Whilst Myrnin was strange and his inventions stranger, they worked—and if he said blood relations were enough, blood relations were enough.

Everything he had said in the office was true. He knew that none of the Elders would be willing to give up their lives to stop the Draug—they'd rather just run, as they always had before. He didn't want Sam to give up his life again, when he had already shown that he was willing to sacrifice himself for those he loved—not just Amelie, but Michael too, and Michael's friends.

That left him, and him alone, to stop the Draug.

In theory, it made sense: he was a viable option, and he had already lived far more than he had expected to after Oliver had attacked him all those years ago. Yet he wasn't alone. Sure, Shane had died, but Shane wasn't Michael's only connection. There was Eve - his wife - and he had other friends: Claire, Jonny from work, and all those people he had known at school and was gradually reaching out to again. He was young, he had a job; he had barely lived.

The selfish part of him wanted to run from town, just like Amelie, Myrnin and Oliver always had done, to say to hell with Morganville like his parents had done. The selfish part of him thought that he had done enough for the town that had done so little for him in return, so why should he be willing to lay down his life for it?

And then the rest of him realised that this was never going to be a possible option for him to take.

He had always been too kind, too caring, too stubborn – just like Sam, though he had never allowed himself to verbally recognise this. He had grown up in the shadow of a father who hated his own father, and so Michael had learned to keep Sam at shoulder's length, and to only see the bad in him – to see the fangs and the blood-drinking rather than the heart of gold and fight for equality. Michael Glass was Sam Glass's grandson, and, now, he was more than happy to admit it.

Unfortunately for him, however, this ultimately meant that this was most likely his last day.

Breathing deeply, Michael stopped pacing and collected his thoughts. He was decided on his course; now he just had some requirements of his own.

"Frank," Michael called, his voice unwavering. "Frank, please can you open me a portal?"

The ghostly apparition of his best friend's deceased father appeared before him, unspeaking and inherently unfriendly.

When realising Frank wasn't going to communicate, Michael said, "Please can you take me to the laboratory? I…I need to see my grandfather?"

Frank, again, didn't speak, but merely opened a door. It was most likely because of Shane, Michael realised, but he didn't feel comfortable talking to the ghost about it. The grief from Shane's death remained fully raw, but it was grief that he would likely never have the opportunity to fully process.

Just before he opened the door, Michael turned back to Frank. "Look, I'm sorry…I hope you know that I miss him too."

And with that, he was gone.

Amelie's POV

It felt like mere minutes since she had awoken to find Samuel Glass alive, but it was more like hours. She was no longer as tired as she had been, though she was fully aware that she was not at peak strength as yet. Magnus had drained her, in the aim of making her one of them, and though she was loath to admit it, she was certain he had almost succeeded. When she had been trapped within her own body she had not been 'dead', no matter what Myrnin thought; her brain had remained active, her body aching and complaining at the torment Magnus's bite had caused.

If Myrnin had not acted the way he had, it was very likely that she would have been a Master Draug by this point.

And now, she was finding it particularly difficult to avert her gaze from Samuel, for fear that, should she look away for too long, he would be taken from her again. It was surreal and more than a little unexpected to find him alive; it was something that, although she had begged one thousand times, Myrnin had promised was as impossible as vampires roaming the earth freely once again.

Yet, here he was. His gaze was as tightly locked upon hers as hers upon his, though they had not spoken in many, many minutes. There was no need, not really; his face told her everything she needed to know. Though she was worried as to what her expression revealed: how much about the previous six months was present upon her usual neutral expression?

Their preoccupation was interrupted, however, by the noise which accompanied the summoning of a portal.

To her right, Myrnin made a strange noise, one which broke the reverie between Amelie and Sam, and allowed her to look across at her friend.

"Who…no…" Myrnin muttered, and Amelie saw him glance across at the form of the slumbering human. Claire had fallen asleep at some point amidst her tears; the constant sniffling and whimpering had gradually faded, instead replaced by the constant deep breathing of someone who had escaped the troubles of the waking world.

The door opened to reveal Michael Glass, a visitor Amelie had not expected.

With one look, she could tell that he was troubled. In the years since his birth, Amelie had kept a keen eye on him, intrigued as to how the human bloodline of Samuel Glass would turn out. She had not been disappointed; the youngest Glass was as caring as his grandfather, although befallen with the same inability to disguise his emotions.

"Michael!" Sam exclaimed as he turned his gaze towards the portal door. "I…I'm sorry if I startled you earlier…it's a shock to me, too."

Michael shook his head, taking a step closer to the others in the room. He was more hesitant than Amelie had ever seen – though it was clearly not because of Sam. There was something more pressing troubling the young vampire.

"I know it was, I'm sorry if I seemed rude earlier. I just…it's a shock?" Michael responded. "I'm actually here on behalf of Oliver. He's asked if you could come and see him to discuss some strategy, Amelie." It was only now that Michael turned to look directly at Amelie – and she could immediately tell he was lying.

It was a combination of many things that led to this interpretation, from the slight tilt to his head to the fact that he was almost painfully pulling on the bond that linked the pair of them. How he had learned to do this, she had no idea – but the fact he was doing so meant that she knew she was not leaving to speak to Oliver.

She was leaving to speak to Michael.

It was with great difficulty that Amelie responded. "Of course – I will be but one moment," she said, forcing herself to speak with an air of disdain. It would arouse suspicion if she appeared to want to leave Sam to speak with Oliver, after all.

Her eyes met Michael's once again, and she recoiled from what she saw.

"Sam…granddad," Michael said, causing Sam to stiffen perceptibly. "I just wanted to say…it's great to have you back. I'm sorry I was such a brat to you before – I just listened to dad, when I should have really thought for myself. I'm glad you're back because…because…we'll be able to spend time together – if you want to?"

Sam's expression became immediately radiant as he lit up in a way that only Michael had ever been able to make him smile. "Yeah, I'd like that," came his response, his voice thick.

Before another word could be spoken, Michael had moved across the room and wrapped his arms around his grandfather's neck.

After about a minute, Michael let go, tears in his eyes, before he moved back towards the portal door. He was visibly avoiding eye contact as he said, "Amelie? We should probably go?"

As she left with her lover's grandson, it wasn't clear to her that this would be the last time that Michael and Sam Glass ever spoke.

Her future self taunted her for not realising this.

…

Both Michael and Amelie were silent as they walked through the Glass House, until they had reached the impenetrable attic. It had been the site of many of their previous meetings; it was the room with which she had most affinity in the house, and she was fairly certain that he shared her feelings.

"I'm going to do it," Michael blurted out as he took a seat on the red, dusty sofa. "I'll sacrifice myself. But I have some conditions."

If she had not been so old, it would have shocked Amelie, the ease with which Michael spoke of his own death. But she had been in this situation many times before, which is probably why she could make it through the conversation.

"Do you understand what this means?" She asked, her voice gentle. More gentle than she had spoken to anyone but Sam in many a year. "You are unable to return from this; it is like something we have never seen before, never dealt with before. It is not a decision you should take lightly."

He was on his feet within a moment, a movement of unrelenting anger and passion – one that reminded her so strongly of Samuel Glass.

"Don't you think I know that?" He demanded, though there were cracks becoming evident in his voice. "Do you really think I'd take the decision to leave my friends – my wife – behind if I didn't know the consequences? I am dead forever, that is what Oliver said. You cannot bring me back. You will mourn me – the town will remember, until it doesn't.

"I will be Michael Glass, the boy who saved Morganville, for this generation, and probably the one after. I will then fade from existence, forgotten by all but a select few. But do you really think I care about eternal glory? All I care about is my friends, and if making this sacrifice means that they can live…then so be it."

He sat down again, the motion almost anticlimactic, before he continued. "I'm also doing it for Sam. I'm doing it for the man who was there at a moment's notice to look after me as a child, who coped with my derogatory comments and barbed tongue without as much as looking cross. He deserves another chance, because he died to save us all without even thinking about it."

Amelie smiled ruefully, because she knew that Sam's decision to stand up against her father in that final moment was not done without thinking, for Michael was always on his mind. But she would not complicate the boy's opinions, for she would run the risk of losing her sacrificial pawn.

For Amelie may be sentimental, but she was not stupid; she would mourn the death of Michael Glass, but she would rather he die than herself.

"In that case…why did you need to speak with me, Michael?"

"I have conditions," he repeated. "Firstly, Sam cannot know what I'm doing until it's too late – in fact, no one will, other than you and Oliver. Secondly, it won't happen until tomorrow; I need to say goodbye to Claire, and spend the night with my wife – I owe her that at least.

"And lastly. I have three letters here, one for Eve, one for Claire, and one for…one for Sam. Please give them out after the danger has passed and after my…after I'm gone." He swallowed, and Amelie recognised his inability to say the word 'death'.

"Very well," Amelie replied, and held her hand out for the letters. It seemed so clinical, to discuss the death of a boy she knew so well, but this was the way of the world. In the eyes of a woman who had seen empires rise and fall, monarchies fail and republics destroyed, this hardly registered on the scale of lifechanging events.

And yet it did. Because, without Michael Glass, Morganville – her town, her empire, her world – would fail.

They talked for a little while longer about the details of the event – and of what would happen after; they talked about the colour of the Glass House door, and the difference in décor from Amelie's residency to now; they talked about absolutely nothing, and yet everything all in one go.

As Amelie watched Michael walk from the room and through the portal into her army's headquarters, she could not help but rue the fact that Sam Glass's son was not available to make the sacrifice his grandson had already decided to make.