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"Mike!" Micky cried. He only realized how truly scared he was when he heard his voice crack.

Peter and Davy were temporarily blinded from the light so Michael left them alone for the time being and ran to Micky. He started to undo his restraints, starting with the ones bounding his wrists to the stone slate.

"Mike—" Micky whimpered.

"Shh, I'm gonna get you out of he—"

"Mike, look out!"

It was too late. Michael cried out as Peter lunged at him from behind, knocking him to the ground. The Angel struggled under Peter's weight, but it was no use.

"I'll take care of you later," Peter smirked. He stood up—and stomped his foot down on Michael's leg, instantly snapping it. Michael screamed and curled into a ball. Angels healed quickly, but Michael would be down long enough for Peter to get down to business.

Michael's cry of pain echoed in Micky's ears as he frantically struggled against the restraints. He caught sight of the big butcher knife in Peter's hand and cried out, struggling even more.

"I don't think so," Peter smirked. He pinned Micky down and slowly carved the butcher knife into Micky's chest, outlining the shape of the heart. Micky screamed and thrashed around, which only resulted in getting blood absolutely everywhere. He was already bleeding heavily.

Then, slowly, he stopped struggling. A final gasp of breath left Micky's lips and he leaned his head back, body relaxing.

His eyes fluttered once, twice, before shutting for good.

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