//
Five Years Later-2017
"I've told you this a million times. You're my psychiatrist," Tate spoke in frustration as he sat across from Ben Harmon in the study. "You're supposed to help me."
"I have helped you," Ben told him. "We've had daily sessions going on for years now."
"I feel like the only reason you're talking to me is 'cause your wife refuses to talk to you," Tate snapped.
"Let's leave her out of this," Ben told him in a calm tone.
"Well, then, let's talk about your son," Tate said. "'Cause that's what I really need your help with."
A handsome boy with curly brown hair and charming yet soulless brown eyes exited a bedroom nearby, moving swiftly with grace as he stared ahead with a blank expression.
The only other movement he made was raising his left hand to place a lit cigarette between his lips before inhaling.
"Peter, please, talk to me," Tate pleaded his ex-boyfriend.
"There's nothing more to say..." the boy uttered, that sentence alone being the most Tate has heard from him in years.
As Peter exhaled his cloud of smoke, his ghostly figure breezed by Tate who yelled after him, "You're the only thing I need!"
But once again, he was ignored.
"It's torture," Tate said. "Can you just talk to him?"
"What do you want me to say?" Ben questioned. "You set fire to your mom's boyfriend, you shot and killed over a dozen kids in high school, you helped kill his parents, plus you impregnated his mother," Ben listed off. "Any one of those things would be reason enough..."
"I'm different now," Tate replied. "Yeah, I'm...You know, I'm dead and-and I'm hot, and I know he has feelings for me."
"You're not so hot," someone spoke. Ben and Tate stood up at this as they saw who entered the room. "That's right, you can see us, and we can see you," Madison Montgomery spoke, entering the room with a man beside her.
"Who are you?" Ben asked.
"I'm Behold Chablis," the man answered. "This is Madison Montgomery. You are Ben Harmon. You killed yourself in this house several years ago after your wife died in childbirth."
"What are you talking about?" Ben questioned. "I didn't kill myself. I was murdered."
"What the fuck is going on here?" Tate snapped. "We decide when we want to be seen."
"Not anymore," Madison told the blond. "You're looking at two powerful witches. And the spell we cast is just a small demonstration of what we can do. So, if you don't want any more disruptions, you're gonna have to answer some hard questions about Michael Langdon."
A heaviness fell over the room at the mention of that name.
"What are you gonna do, make us more dead?" Ben asked, tauntingly.
"Even people protected by magic aren't safe in this house. I'd watch my ass if I were you," Tate told them before walking out.
Madison sighed. "Look, it's really important. Our coven bought you a goddamn house so nobody will come to bother you ever again."
"Sorry, you got me at a bad time, I'm busy," Ben replied.
"You're dead. What do you have to do?" Behold questioned.
"I got to look out the window and cry while I masturbate. It's my daily thing."
As Ben walked out, Madison turned to Behold. "Okay, I know it's weird, but I kind of feel for the guy. Should we try to help him?"
"You mean the tear-jerker?" Behold asked in doubt.
Madison cringed. "Ew, no, the other guy. Sounds like he's stuck in a nightmare, trapped in this Amityville reject with the one thing he loves but can never have. It's a romantic tragedy." As they walked out of the study, near the stairs, a red ball with teeth marks on it slowly rolled down the stairs and towards the living room, slowing to a stop. Madison slowly approached, picking the ball up. Suddenly, she was tackled to the floor making her scream, "Get the fuck off of me!"
Behold approached, holding his hand over the spirit, ready to make it disappear with just magic. "Be gone!"
A hand closed around the man's wrist before he could do anything. "You don't want to do that," Peter Harmon told him.
"You'll have a house full of spirits coming after you," someone else spoke. "And they aren't all as gentle as this one," Billie Dean Howard added.
Peter released his wrist before squatting in front of Beau who got off of Madison. Peter's lips upturned into a kind smile. "Hey, buddy, you want to play?" he asked.
"Play!" Beau exclaimed to which Peter picked up his red ball, tossing it towards the kitchen which Beau ran after.
As Madison stood, she looked over Peter and Billie. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
"The tear jerker's gay son," Peter answered, crossing his arms.
"Peter Harmon," Behold answered.
Peter nodded, semi-surprised the man knew. "Actually, yeah."
Madison looked to Billie who answered, "A friend of the house and its residents. They don't take kindly to strangers."
"You ain't dead?" Behold asked in shock.
"Oh, honey, I'm one of the few live ones they let come and go," Billie answered before looking at the blond. "And you are Madison Montgomery."
Madison smiled. "Oh, have you seen my movies? I have fans everywhere."
"No. I've known a few Montgomerys in my time, but it's not every day that I see a witch," Billie answered.
Peter raised eyebrows, looking at his living friend. "Sorry, did you say 'witch'?"
"You're fucking ghost and you have a hard time believing witches are real?" Madison asked Peter.
"When someone says it out loud, yeah," Peter answered.
"What are you?" Behold asked Billie.
"Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars," Billie answered.
"So, you're like a shitty Ms. Cleo," Madison stated.
Peter snickered while Billie questioned, "Excuse me?"
"Now, who do you think you are, coming in here, swanning around, spewing vulgarities?" someone spoke, coming downstairs making Peter roll his eyes.
Since her death, Constance isn't exactly Peter's favorite person in the world but she wasn't a bad drinking and smoking buddy.
"We're the new owners. Who are you?" Madison questioned.
"I'm Constance Langdon," Constance answered. "And this... is my fucking house."
***
Downstairs, Constance, Billie, and Peter stood in the kitchen with Madison and Behold.
Constance glanced at the two witches and chuckled, "Well, you two are the most unlikely pair. But, on the plus side, your spawn will have beautiful skin."
"They're witches, Constance," Peter stated, sipping from his glass of scotch.
"It's magic, not marriage, that connects them. They won't be moving in," Billie added.
"Well, now, that is disappointing. I guess I can't expect you to go running down to the Korean to get me my Crown Royal and Virginia Slims?" Constance said.
"You drink Crown Royal?" Madison asked. "You're dead."
The trio laughed. "It's true that this side of the mortal coil makes it impossible to get a good buzz going, but, well, old habits die hard," Constance stated.
"But new habits can also form for the living dead," Peter added, raising his glass as if making a toast before drinking.
Moira O'Hara cleared her throat as she entered the area. "It's done. As demanded, the living room has been tidied yet again," she told Constance.
"We'll see about that," Constance replied about to exit but looked to the witches. "I won't be but a moment."
"It'll be more than a moment," Billie told them as Constance followed Moira into the living room.
"This is a daily ritual for them," Peter added, filling up his glass once more.
"Usually, I'm not the one to judge, especially the dead but should you be even drinking?" Madison asked. "You're, like, 15."
"17," Peter corrected. "And I'm not getting any older so..."
"We need information on someone who used to live here before," Behold spoke.
Peter hummed. "Lived here before?" he asked. "Everyone who's lived here before is dead."
Billie looked to the teenager. "Peter, they mean-"
The sound of a glass breaking made the boy sigh as he, Billie, Madison, and Behold follow after him.
"You ladies all right in here?" Behold asked Constance and Moira who just kept walking.
"It is so hard to find good help," Constance stated.
"That poor woman," Billie remarked, sitting on the couch. "In a house filled with tragedy, she might be the saddest soul of all."
"Even sadder than me and that's saying a lot," Peter added, also sitting down, crossing his legs, and had his glass resting on his knee.
"Oh, shut up," Constance told the pair.
"All right," Billie agreed.
"Make me," Peter remarked.
"Look, we need the hot goss on a guy who used to live here, uh, Michael Langdon," Madison spoke.
At the mention of that name, everyone froze.
It was then, Peter placed the glass down on the table, turning to Madison. "Why do you want to know about Mikey?" he asked.
"Mikey?" Madison questioned.
"We have nothing to say about him," Billie spoke before Peter could explain who Michael was to him.
"You did raise him, correct?" Behold questioned.
"Yes-" Peter began.
"I said we're not talking," Billie repeated, giving Peter a slight look.
"Oh, pipe down, Billie," Constance stated. "I know more about that boy than any woman, dead or alive. But I don't spill a drop of tea for free, kiddos."
"Self-interest," Madison stated with a hum. "That's something I can get behind. What do you want?"
"To remove that insufferable cloudy-eyed ginger from these premises permanently."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Constance."
"You want us to fire the help?" Madison questioned.
"Well, if you really do have witchcraft at your disposal, then why don't you just abracadabra that goddamn bitch out of my afterlife, huh?" Constance said. "Bless me with some peace and quiet. And then we can talk about Michael all you want."
Peter suddenly nodded, a new thought taking over. "She might actually have a point," he stated before looking at Constance. "But nothing painful or...whatever is worse than death."
Constance chuckled. "Even dead, you're still very soft for some bitch-"
"She's my friend," Peter snapped before turning to the two witches. "Nothing awful. Give Moira a choice, she wants to leave. Is there anything you guys can do to..."
"We can...do one thing for her," Behold told him. "Nothing bad or painful for her."
"That's all I want. And then, I'll tell you everything about my brother," Peter concluded.
***
Peter stood in front of Moira as Madison and Behold had found her bones and were taking her to a new place to be.
"So this is it?" Peter asked her. "Another person I care about...gone."
Moira gave him a smile, her hand lightly touching Peter's cheek. "Peter, I will not be gone forever. You know where I'll be. You're more than welcome to visit when Halloween comes."
"I will," Peter promised before he pulled Moira in a hug.
Moira returned the hug, her arms wrapping around the boy.
Moira cared about Peter like a son. He defended her for when Constance would nag her for little things and for that alone, she was grateful.
Moira pulled back to give Peter one last smile. "Take care," she told him softly.
"You too," Peter said, returning the smile. "Take care of your mother."
And within the blink of an eye, she was gone as Madison and Behold left with her bones.
***
When Behold and Madison returned, they sat across from Peter in the living room.
"So what do you want to know?" Peter asked.
"Everything," Madison answered.
"We're leaving no stone unturned," Behold added.
"Okay..." Peter said before grabbing a cigarette out of his shirt pocket. "Well..." Madison flicking a lighter on before leaning forward to light Peter's cigarette that was resting in between his lips. He took a long drag, smoke leaving his mouth as he spoke, "The first time I actually saw Michael was when he was first born..."
As Constance walked towards the kitchen, she passed by Peter to which his eyes scanned over the beautiful newborn.
"The moment I laid eyes on him, he had to be one of the most beautiful babies I had ever seen," Peter spoke. "But the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew I had to protect my little brother from harm."
"How are you related to Michael?" Madison asked.
Peter hummed. "He's my brother. Well, half-brother actually but still my brother nevertheless. We have the same mom, the dad..." He let out a forced, dry chuckle. "You can say I know his dad pretty well. He's my ex."
"So you're the boy the blond was talking about," Behold stated.
"I guess so," Peter answered. "He's done a lot of bad shit so, therefore, I dumped him. The asshole knocked up my mom."
"That means technically, you're like Michael's brother/step-dad?" Madison asked.
Peter cringed. "Mikey's just my brother, thanks." He continued, "I didn't see him for years after he was born but when Constance died, I saw him-very grown. Like, maybe, late teens..."
2015
Michael walked into the Murder House, looking around the area as he saw Constance come here earlier. "Grandma?" he called but heard nothing. He barely walked up the stairs before calling once more, "Grandma!" He turned and saw familiar hair in the living room. He walked back downstairs where she was. "Grandma?" It was Constance lying back on the couch but she wasn't breathing or moving.
Peter suddenly appeared, sitting on the stairs, watching the boy carefully. Hearing him call Constance 'Grandma' and looking at his appearance, Peter knew right away, this was his living half brother.
"No," Michael whimpered, beginning to cry as he knelt beside Constance's dead body. "Grandma," he called, lightly shaking her, hoping to get a response. "Hey. Hey, wake up. Hey, wake up." That's when he sobbbed, hugging Constance, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault." Michael lied Constance back on the couch, pushing her hair out of her face with shaky hands as he spoke, "Hey. Grandma."
Peter felt like a sudden weight on his chest-a pain, pity for Michael losing his loved one but also anger. Boiling anger at Constance for leaving a young boy behind to fend for himself.
"The spirits in this house can't be seen unless they want to be seen," Ben spoke, sitting in a chair across from Michael who turned to look at him.
"She doesn't want to see me?" Michael asked in a heartbreaking tone.
Peter felt his anger rise as he realized Constance not only tried to look for an easy way out, she wanted to hide from her grandson.
"I'm sorry," Ben replied.
And suddenly, Peter was gone from the stairs and standing beside his father. "But it'll be okay," Peter tried to reassure Michael, not really having any other words at this moment.
Michael's ocean eyes moved to Peter. "Who are you?" he asked them both.
"Someone who wants to be seen," Ben answered. "Someone who wants to help. If you really want to change, I think I can show you how."
"I'm your brother, Michael," Peter answered. "Peter. And I want to help too."
"I'm a monster," Michael said. "Why would you guys want to help me?"
"Because I can't help but think of you as my other son. Even though you're not, really," Ben told him.
"You're my brother, no matter what," Peter said, moving to kneel beside Michael, looking over his features as the young boy watched him. "Do you need a hug?" Peter asked softly.
Michael immediately gave a nod before turning to wrap his arms around Peter like a child, hiding his face in his brother's shoulder while Peter rubbed soothing circles in Michael's back as he whispered him reassuring things to calm him.
"That day, Michael talked to my dad but I waited for him outside the study. As soon as their session was over, Michael immediately looked for me, like he just needed to see me. The rest of the day we hung out so he could forget about Constance and it worked until the night came..."
Michael followed Peter up the stairs as they reached the top.
"Okay, you can choose where you sleep," Peter told Michael. He motioned to the almost empty room across the hall. "You can stay in here or..."
Michael barely glanced in the room before asking, "Who used to sleep here?"
"Our sister, Violet," Peter answered. "She's hardly in there anymore and I haven't seen her for a long time so it's yours if you..."
"You don't see her anymore?" Michael asked in concern to which Peter nodded. "Why?"
"I don't know why," Peter answered. "I see her sometimes, not often anymore. I think she hates me."
Michael frowned. "Why would anyone hate you?" he questioned. "You're nice to me."
Peter smiled at the compliment but he said, "Violet looks for any reason to hate anyone so it's not really shocking." He pushed open the door he was standing by, flicking on the light to which Michael stepped into the room, looking around. "This was my old room. You can stay in here too or in some of these other rooms down the hall-"
"I want to stay in here," Michael told him.
"Are you sure?" Peter asked. "The other rooms are bigger."
"I like this one," Michael stated.
Peter smiled. "Okay, bud. All up to you," he stated before pausing, "Well, good night."
"Peter?" Michael spoke before Peter could walk away. "Can we talk for a little bit longer? Sometimes Grandma would tuck me in but..." He paused. "I just want to talk."
Peter nodded, entering the room. "Yeah, we can talk," he answered, pulling out his desk chair to sit in while Michael plopped on the bed.
"Where's Mom?" Michael asked Peter.
"She's..." Peter began. "Somewhere in the house, I don't know where but she's here."
Michael nodded in understanding. Maybe she just didn't want to be seen by anyone.
"Can we play tomorrow?" Michael asked like a child.
Peter smiled again. It was hard not to, his little brother was just so endearing, it reminded Peter of a simpler time.
"Yeah, I'm not busy," Peter answered, running a hand through his hair. "What do you want to do?"
"I have video games," Michael answered. "I can bring them over."
"Okay," Peter agreed. "But you have to let me win."
Michael pouted his bottom lip. "But it's no fun if I let you in."
"It's fun for me," Peter replied with a shrug.
"But that means I can't win and that's not nice," Michael said, lying back down and the bed, pulling the comforter closer to him.
"But you're being nice, Mikey," Peter stated, nearly laughing.
Man, Peter forgot what it was like to have a sibling that wanted to hang out and be with you for hours but he enjoyed it. Michael had this childlike innocence and intelligence to him that made Peter so drawn, already so protective.
The moment he met Michael, it felt like fate. Like, there supposed to meet a long time ago because in the instance they both met, they already cared for one another.
"We talked for an hour that night. About some of the most random things we could think of. Seeing Michael, the only light in this house, smile and laugh somehow made the world so much brighter. I barely knew this kid and I already felt connected to him as if I've known him for years. And somehow, I think he felt the same way too..."
As Michael's eyes were beginning to get heavy and his words became slowed, Peter knew he was tired.
Peter stood up to pull the comforter more over Michael who was still falling in and out of sleep, watching his older brother.
"Go to sleep, Mikey," Peter whispered. "We'll talk tomorrow. Okay?"
Michael nodded wordlessly.
"Good night, bud," Peter told him.
"I love you so much, weirdo," Michael uttered before closing his eyes with a yawn. "Good night."
Peter didn't know how to respond. His half brother he had only known for a day already said I love you.
Peter did love Michael since the day he was born and he knew how to express it but didn't know how to say it.
Peter lifted his gaze towards the hall where ghostly Constance Langdon stood, watching Peter take care of her grandson.
"When I was about to leave, Constance was there, watching us. I couldn't read her expression but she watched me as if she was satisfied someone was looking after Michael, even if it wasn't her. But I hated her. Michael said he'd done some bad things which was why my dad and I were trying to help him change. But all I saw was a scared little kid who wanted to be good and loved. Constance took love away from him the moment she took her life. After that, Michael and I hung out like the way I used to hang out with my sister. I probably even more fun with him. I got up to make him breakfast, lunch, dinner...after he did the shopping of course. I never ate with him, he would always eat, smile and we'd talk at the table. When we played games, we played The Floor Is Lava, we played his favorite video game, built forts together, I taught him a handshake...I don't think I've ever had that much fun, even alive. He even protected me when I didn't need him to."
Peter was lying on the edge of his bed, his head dangling over upside down, staring at the TV screen as his fingers quickly pressing the buttons on the gaming remote.
"Go left," Michael told his brother, sitting next to Peter on the floor, also with a gaming remote in his hand.
"You're left or my left?" Peter asked hurriedly.
"Upside down left," Michael quickly answered.
"I'm going-"
"No, not that way!"
"Mikey, you're gonna get me killed!"
"Go right-"
Both boys groan as their PC characters die.
"Mikey," Peter huffed, putting the controller on the floor.
"You're the one who keeps accidentally killing me," Michael stated.
"You keep getting in my headshots," Peter stated.
"It's not my fault you have terrible aim, Pete," Michael remarked.
Peter gasped, playfully, holding a hand over his chest which Michael giggled at. "That hurt me, Mikey."
Michael stood up. "Don't play without me. I have to use the bathroom."
"Okay. Hurry."
As Michael exited the room, Peter sat up, standing to which he walked over to his desk, looking at the stack of games his little brother had brought over.
He had his back turned to the door, he didn't notice someone sneaking through the door, carrying a knife in her hand.
As she was a foot away from Peter, she raised the knife in the air, ready to kill-
When a hand tightly enclosed around her wrist making her drop the knife which made Peter turn around.
There Hayden was, ready to kill Peter once more until Michael had stopped her, getting her to drop the knife before curling his hands around her throat.
"You don't get to hurt my brother again," Michael practically growled.
Michael knew that this was the woman who killed Peter and he was pissed.
"He's not your...brother," Hayden choked out.
"You're wrong," Peter hissed. "We are brothers. And you're lucky you're stuck here, or else, I will gladly get rid of your ass."
Michael listened to that sentence carefully. All he wanted to do was make Peter happy.
Michael released Hayden, shoving her towards the doorway before dropping his hands, palms facing up as his fingers slowly began to curl into a fist.
Peter suddenly flinched as he felt heat hit his face but watched with wide eyes as a bright fire surrounded and burned Hayden's soul, making her scream in pain.
Hayden's soul began to burn in hellfire until finally, Michael relaxed his fists and Hayden's soul crumbled to nothing but ashes.
Michael nearly fell to the floor on his knees if it wasn't for Peter quickly shaking his shock away, and catching him. "Hey, it's okay, you're okay," Peter whispered. He pulled Michael over to sit on the bed beside him. "What was that? What happened to her?"
"She's gone from this house. Forever," Michael whispered tearfully. "She doesn't belong here. I didn't want her bothering or hurting you anymore." Some tears fell from his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?" Peter asked softly. "She's gone."
"Because I scared you and I don't want to hurt any more people even if they are bad," Michael whispered.
"I'm not scared of you, Mikey. I'm more than thankful you got rid of her," Peter replied, wiping his brother's tears away with his thumb.
Michael's blue eyes searched Peter's expression to see nothing but calmness now. "Really?"
Peter wore a smile to reassure him. "Yeah. And you can be a better person, you already are. I promise, Dad and I got you."
Michael grinned, hugging Peter to which the Harmon boy returned it, giving his brother a light squeeze on the shoulder.
Michael pulled back and said, "I don't want to play video games anymore. Can we watch a movie, Pete?"
"Sure, you pick," Peter replied.
Michael gave him one last smile before standing up and searching through Peter's movie collection which the Harmon boy stayed in place on the bed, unknown that Michael's biological father was watching the two interact with envy.
"He protected me even if he knew that a bad part of him would take over. He's not a bad person. It doesn't matter what my dad or Constance says. He's not. I know he isn't. I wanted to give him everything that I couldn't have, be the best brother I could be. But..." Peter trailed off with a sigh.
Michael sat in Peter's room, his finger trailing over the rubber mask he had found in the attic.
He jumped when Tate asked, "What are you doing? Stay away from my shit."
"He was just exploring," Ben spoke, entering the room.
"He's fucked up," Tate replied before turning back to Michael. "You stay away from my shit, you understand?"
"I just want to be like you, Dad," Michael spoke softly.
Tate's gaze flickered to Ben before back to Michael. "Who told you that?" he asked, his tone angered.
"Other spirits. They whispered to me," Michael uttered.
Tate rushed forward which made Michael jump but Ben held Tate back. "You didn't spring from my nutsack, got it?!" Tate yelled.
Peter suddenly appeared in front of Michael, defensively. "Get the fuck away from my brother," Peter snapped at his ex-boyfriend.
"You're fucking defending him?!" Tate nearly yelled, enraged that Peter was only talking to him, just to defend his spawn. "He's not even your brother!" Tate stared down Michael. "Not even I could create something as monstrous, as evil, as you."
"Fuck you, Tate," Peter growled before pointing to the door. "Get out."
Tate backed away from Ben but looked down at Michael. "You stay away from me," he said one last time, glancing at Peter with betrayal before finally exiting.
Both Ben and Peter looked at Michael who frowned, eyes shining with tears and heartbreak before he turned away, lying back on his bed.
"Peter," Ben spoke.
"I got him," Peter replied.
Ben slowly nodded before exiting.
Peter sat beside Michael who was still turned away but Peter lightly placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Mikey..." he spoke softly.
Michael didn't look at him, only whimpered, laying his head in Peter's lap and began to cry.
Peter only rubbed his back, not saying a word because when you get rejected by your birth parent, Peter couldn't imagine what gut-wrenching emotion Michael must've felt.
"After that, he started turning away. From my dad and..." Peter paused. "And from me. We stopped hanging out that much and he pushed me away. The darkness he tried to avoid was trying to swallow him whole. I was losing him. God, help me. I found the one person in this that made feel less...dead and I was..." He let out a harsh breath, trying not to whelm himself with emotion. He cleared his throat. "I was clinging on for anything even when another person gave up on him..."
Peter watched from upstairs as he saw the new couple move in-two women carrying in boxes.
They seemed nice but deep down, they're just another nice family they'd have to scare out before anything bad happens.
As he saw the woman, he learned to be Grace, carry in the last box, he watched Ben close the front door that was left open.
"They seem nice," Peter spoke to his father as he walked downstairs. "Is it just us scaring them out?"
"Yeah, I mean, you haven't talked to Violet, have you?" Ben asked.
"No," Peter answered. "Mom?"
Ben shook his head in response.
"Maybe Moira can help-"
The sound of screaming made Peter stop speaking.
They both ran into the study to see Rubber Man removing his knife from Grace's body and staring down Grace who was on her knees.
Both Harmon ran forward. "No!"
It was too late, Rubber Man jammed the knife in Elizabeth's skull, her body falling limp, dead as the knife was removed.
Peter gaped. "Tate, why would you-" he uttered.
The Rubber Man suddenly looked up at Ben and just with a nod, Ben was flung effortlessly back into the wall.
And that's when it felt like Peter was dying all over again. There was a heavy weight on his chest and he couldn't breathe when he realized only one being in the house can do that.
"No..." Peter pleaded quietly.
The Rubber Man slowly unzipped the mask, revealing the emotionless face of Michael to his brother.
Peter felt paralyzed. He couldn't move or speak. For the first time, he feared Michael.
"Those were good people," Ben said. "They deserved a chance."
"They don't belong here," Michael spoke for the first time. It was scary how much he reminded Peter of Tate.
"Because of what you did, they'll be here forever," Ben replied.
"What's happening?" Grace asked, her spirit standing as well as Elizabeth's. "I don't feel right."
Peter found the courage to finally talk. "You didn't have to kill them, Mikey," Peter said. "I know you. This isn't who you are. Y-Y-You're my brother but I consider you my best friend."
"You're scared of me," was all Michael told him.
Peter tried to shake his head in response but Michael didn't buy it.
The mask fell from Michael's hand, palms facing up as his fingers slowly began to curl into a fist.
Fire surrounded Grace and Elizabeth's souls, burning until they were screaming painfully.
Michael relaxed his fists and their souls crumbled to nothing but ashes, making Peter flinch.
Michael fell to the floor on his knees but Peter didn't catch him like last time.
Ben forced himself to stand and approached Michael who stared up at him.
"I never could have helped you," Ben told him. "It was foolish to try."
Tears fell down Michael's cheeks.
"I saw what he did right before my eyes. And I was scared, yes. But I just thought the emotional connection Michael and I had-the bond we built. I wasn't okay with what my dad said."
"Leave him alone, Dad," Peter spoke, walking over to stand in front of Michael defensively. "Don't give up on him, please. Not you too."
"It's hopeless, son," Ben replied, somewhat shocked that Peter was still protecting. "He's hopeless and you know that."
"If that's true..." Peter trailed off. "Then I'm not your son." He glanced back at Michael before back at Ben. "And I'm fucking hopeless too."
"Peter, knock it off," Ben snapped.
"No!" Peter exclaimed. "If you won't look after him or help him, I will. You turn away from Michael, then I turn away from you."
Ben didn't say anything for a moment. He didn't expect Peter to turn away from him. He wanted his real son to be on his side. But clearly, there was nothing Ben could say to make this right.
So Ben turned away from them and walked out, not looking back.
Peter sighed sadly before offering a hand down to Michael who took it, standing up.
Neither of them said anything or moved for a moment until Michael threw his arms around Peter in a tight hug that he needed.
Peter hesitated at first to hug back but he wrapped his arms around Michael.
"He did try to be better after that. For me. We started hanging out again, he tried to smile but I could still tell he was hurting. Weeks passed, and then strange things started to happen. A murder of crows would encircle the house every day. Inside it was sweltering hot." He paused. "And then they came. Devil worshippers. I wasn't there for the whole introduction but when I saw them by the stairs, talking to him...he smiled. A true genuine smile more than others I ever seem him wore. Something changed in Michael. It was like they opened a door and they showed him his true path."
"Why didn't you stop them?" Madison asked.
Peter ignored the welling of tears stinging his eyes as he looked at Madison. "He didn't need me anymore. And I tried so hard to protect him, be there when everyone else just turned their backs. I felt...weak like I couldn't do anything. I know the moment he talked to them, he wouldn't listen to a damn word I said. I, uh..." Peter began, wiping vigorously at his eyes before any tears could fall. "I saw him eat the heart of a poor girl and he...enjoyed it. I was scared of him before but I was terrified now. All I saw was pure evil. That innocent kid I knew was dead-" Peter blinked away more tears. "That night was a terrible storm. Hail as big as rocks, rain of blood. I was terrified, yeah but I still confronted him because I was still holding onto anything that was still there."
"Mikey, you can't trust these people, they're bad people. They're bad news," Peter told his brother. They were both in Peter's room, who kept pacing while Michael just watched him.
"Is it so bad these 'bad people' just want me to be myself?" Michael asked.
His tone was unfamiliar. It was cold and firm.
"This isn't you. I know you," Peter replied.
"Do you really?" Michael asked coldly.
"I do," Peter answered. "You're Michael Langdon. You love playing chess, your favorite food is pancakes, you love the color red and your favorite movie is Back To The Future. I do know you and I care about you."
"If you care so much, why won't you let me be who I was born to be?" Michael questioned.
"That's not who you're born to be, I don't give a damn what those dipshits say."
"No, you know it's who I am but you're in denial," Michael stated.
"So what if I am?" Peter fired back. "I'm supposed to look out for you. You're my brother-"
"I am not your brother!" Michael screamed.
Peter flinched but spoke anyway, "So what? After this, you're just not my brother, not my friend..."
"No."
Peter could feel his emotions going out of control, stirring up like a terrible storm that was very much on the brink of breaking what was left of Peter Harmon.
"What is it with you Langdon men?" Peter asked, more to himself than Michael. "You guys just make me care about you for a long ass time and then you...leave or break me."
"I'm sorry," Michael apologized but there was no sincerity. They were just words. "I'm leaving early tomorrow. And I won't be returning. Ever."
It felt like everything around Peter was once again, shattering. Every bit of happiness built up wore away, leaving nothing there but a sad spirit.
"You can't so this. My family hates me now," Peter spoke, his voice cracking, tears spilling over. "You're all I have left."
Michael's eyes trailed over his half-brother. All he saw was a boy who had dealt with nothing but pain and looked like he was on the verge of collapsing.
In a sense, Peter was right. Michael was the only family Peter had right now but everyone would forgive him. It was his family after all but that family...it wasn't Michael's. He was unwelcome.
Michael didn't say anything, only slowly approached Peter who watched him with watery, unsure eyes. He opened his arms out, offering one last hug.
Peter knew that it was a pity, departing hug but he accepted it anyway.
He hugged Michael tightly who returned it hesitantly, patting his back as Peter held in his sobs that were trying to escape.
"I love you, goof," Peter told him.
For a moment, Michael felt pity for breaking Peter all over again but...this was just the way things had to be.
"I love you, weirdo," Michael replied. For a moment, his voice showed true sincerity as if Peter was hearing those words all over again. Michael did mean it but it only made it harder to leave.
Michael parted from Peter, giving him a short-lived smile. "Goodbye, Peter."
"Goodbye, Michael," Peter replied.
Michael turned away, pulling the bedroom door open and walking out.
The moment he did, Peter hunched over, leaning on his knees as his breathing got heavy as if his lungs were going to collapse.
His eyes flickered to the Polaroid picture on the desk. It was Peter and Michael, sitting in the kitchen with a stack of pancakes in between them, both were grinning happily at the camera.
And that's when Peter let out the most heartbreaking sobs that made his body tremble, tear after tear pooled down his cheeks.
Just like last time, his legs gave in to which he fell to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest so he could wrap his arms around his legs as if to hold himself together from falling apart.
Unlike last time, none of his family came to comfort him. He was all alone that night.
"Michael was gone," Peter told Behold and Madison. "I don't know where he went. I don't know who raised him after he left..."
"After everything, you still care about him?" Behold asked.
"I do," Peter admitted. "And I made that pretty damn clear with my family even after he left. At least, they're all talking to me again." He looked at the two witches. "Are you going to kill him?"
"Is that the only way to stop him?" Madison asked.
"I wouldn't know. I didn't kill him or at least try to," Peter answered, sipping from his now complete empty scotch glass. "Are we done now?"
His cold exterior was now back as he remembered that Michael would never return.
***
As Madison and Behold tried to exit the house, Behold called, "Madison. Madison."
Madison turned to face him. "Look, I know it sucks that the guy you put your hopes into turned out to be the Antichrist, but you are not stopping me from telling the council."
"I wasn't gonna stop you," Behold replied. "I never would have fought for Michael to be Supreme if I had any idea about who he truly is. We just wanted a leader. But he is clearly not that. What if we can't stop him? What happens then?"
"I don't know," Madison answered honestly. Her eyes flickered to Peter who was practically inhaling his cigarette, barely exhaling any smoke. "Give me a second," Madison told Behold before approaching the boy.
Peter noticed her and sighed. "What else do you want from me? I told you everything."
"I don't need any more information about Michael," Madison told him, sitting beside him. "I think we got enough on him, anyway."
"Then what do you want?" Peter asked.
"Seems like you're having a hard time. And not just about Michael," Madison explained in a soft tone. "You and that Tate guy have a real angsty thing going on."
Peter's face fell more at the mention of that name. "We don't have anything. He's a bad person," he whispered. "He's a monster."
And there it was. The Peter Harmon who was head over heels with Tate after so many years.
"He didn't seem like a monster to me," Madison replied.
"That's because you don't know him. That's what he does, he makes you feel sorry for him. You can't imagine what it's like to know all of the horrible things he's done. And..."
"And still be in love with him?" Madison asked.
Peter didn't deny it because it was the truth.
"It's torture," Peter answered, ignoring the tears stinging his eyes. "Every day. The afterlife is supposed to be peaceful but it's fucking awful especially when you can't stop thinking about the one person he's ever loved."
"I've done some bad things I'm not exactly proud of in my life and my second life," Madison admitted. "But those were my choices. I think what happened to Tate was different. He wasn't the real evil here."
Peter paused. "What does that even mean?"
"It's like this house used him as a vessel to create something way, way worse," Madison answered. "My guess: any evil inside Tate left with Michael."
Peter hummed. "I wish that were true," he said.
Madison gave him a smile. "Maybe you just need to see the truth for yourself."
She opened her palm out before blowing a soft smoky substance in Peter's face before leaving.
Peter only blinked back his tears, his chocolate brown eyes flickering into the blank space in front of him.
He didn't know how to explain it but Peter saw everything from Tate's eyes. It was different this time. He only saw all the good things Tate has ever done and every emotion he also felt.
He saw how Tate would protect Peter from other spirits when he was alive, their kisses shared, Tate trying to bring Peter back to life after his death, the heartbreak when they broke up, his therapy sessions with Ben, Tate protecting Vivien from being killed by Michael. And finally, he saw the last memory.
His eyes never left Peter who still inside laughing and genuinely smiling with his family yet never glancing towards the window.
"I'll wait," Tate responded, a small smile nearly growing on his lips. "Forever, if I have to."
When his normal vision returned, he had a ring of clarity hit him.
He stamped his cigarette out against the wall next to him before dropping the butt nearby.
"Tate?" Peter called, his eyes lifting to the second floor.
Right there, Tate appeared, looking back at Peter shocked that after so many years, he called out to talk to him.
Tate left the railing, walking downstairs as Peter stood up.
As Tate stood feet away from Peter, the boy gave a smile. "You saved my mom. You tried to be better..."
Tate met his eyes, glossing over. "I'm so sorry for everything, Pete," he said with sincerity.
"Me too," Peter replied. "I'm sorry for defending Michael when he was the real evil. Not you, Tater."
"You don't need to be sorry," Tate replied, his voice cracking. "It was all me."
Peter only gave him a look that was full of nothing but love.
In response, Tate returned a small smile.
"I love you, Tate. And I never stopped," Peter told him.
Tate cupped his face, kissing him, putting as much love as he could into the kiss which Peter returned fervently.
Kissing him felt like nothing changed. Like they were still in love just as much as they were before. It was just like the first time they really kissed. Peter never knew how much he needed this kiss until now. Just as the first time, both of their hearts were beating so fast, it felt like they were up in the clouds for a small moment. It felt like Peter had waited for this moment day after day of seeing Tate, he was all he thought about.
Tate's mind was occupied by Peter. His voice, his eyes, his smile. It overwhelmed him so much as to how this boy could make him so weak and vulnerable.
They finally pulled back, Peter's eyes fluttering open and a smile growing on his face as Tate had his forehead resting against his. "I missed this," Peter uttered.
At this sentence, Tate pressed a quick kiss against his lover's lips, wearing a happy grin.
Outside, Behold and Madison watched them interact.
"You're really nothing but a softie, aren't you?" Behold asked.
Madison scoffed. "Whatever. I just thought I'd help two gay ghosts get laid." She glanced back at the couple. "At least someone's gonna get a happy ever after."
"There's not gonna be an ever after for anyone if we don't find a way to stop Michael," Behold replied, getting into the car.
Madison got in on the passenger's side before rolling down the window and motioning the Murder House gates that slammed closed as the car drove off.
And that's how Peter and Tate's story ended.
Together in their own piece of forever.
***
And this is the end of Tag You're It.
We'll stick to his chapter as their ending instead of that other timeline because...Peter and Tate deserve a happy ending.
Murder House is over but now we have Asylum and 1984 and who knows, maybe I'll write a few other seasons like a Coven or Freak Show or Hotel 😉...
Tom Holland is pretty much part of American Horror Story now and no one can change my mind.