The windows to Max’s room open with a thud. Michael climbs through them. Max looks up and sees his friend’s haggard face. “Hey,” Michael greets him. “What’s wrong?” Max eyes him worriedly. “Nothing,” Michael responds and starts to pace up and down the room.

“Nothing? You sure you’re okay?” he asks again. “I’m fine! Just tired that’s all,” Michael responds brusquely. He seems distracted.

“Isabel around?” Michael asks. “She went to Albuquerque with Mom and Dad. She’ll be back tomorrow,” Max relays to him. “I wanted to talk to her,” Michael tells him.

Max raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” “I wanted …” he tails off in frustration. “Is this about what happened that day? At the museum?” Michael responds with silence. “Michael, that wasn’t your fault.” Max assures him. “I know how you must feel but you saved our lives. Pierce was trying to kill us,” Max adds.

“No, you don’t know how I feel! You have no idea what it’s like!” Michael rages. “There’s this thing in me, this … killer … and I can’t stop it!”

“It’s not who you are!” Max tells him. “How do you know that? How do you know I’m no better than Nacedo?” Michael accuses. “I just know, Michael.”

“You don’t understand. You’d never understand,” Michael continues to rage. “Michael!” Max puts hand on his arm. “No! You want to sweep everything under the rug, pretend that nothing happened. Well, it did, Maxwell! I killed someone!” “Michael!” Max calls out as a frustrated, Michael climbs out the window.

He stalks back to his apartment and plops down on the couch. He throws at forgotten couch pillow at the wall. Hours pass again until sleep calls him.

“Nooooooooo!” Michael screams. A flash emanates from his hand, shooting towards his enemy. His enemy falls. “He’s dead,” the sheriff tells him.

The prone figure on the floor gets up. “Hello, Michael,” a softly menacing voice whispers. “Pierce!”

The ghost strolls lazily towards him, a smirk painted on his face. “You! How?!?!” Michael blurts out the question. “How did I survive? Good question. I didn’t!” Pierce smiles. “Guess I have you to thank you for that!”

Michael reels from the fact that a walking, talking Pierce was now in front of him. How the hell did that happen?

Pierce flashes him an evil grin. “Lots of thing can happen … in dreams.”

Suddenly, the room shifts. Michael finds himself in the middle of the White Room, strapped to a gurney. Pierce hovers above him. Michael struggles to free himself but to no avail. “This time, we’ll do it my way.” Pierce wields a surgical scalpel, its silver gleam sparkling like demon eyes. “Nothing too quick and painless. I like taking it slow.” Michael looks at Pierce with burning eyes. “And who knows, you might enjoy it!” Pierce smirks. “Of course, there is something to be said for quick and painful.” With that, Pierce makes a searing incision on Michael’s upper body. Michael feels a hot, searing pain above his heart and looks down to see a river of blood gushing forth.