[b]Ghosts of Christmas Future:[/b] [i]The Arrowhead[/i] [i]Michael Drake lay prone on his back, holding a dropper above his left eye with his prosthetic arm. He wore nothing but pants, allowing the skin of his back to touch the cold sheets of his bed. The chilly sensation was the only anchor he'd have left to reality, after he began his trip. With a deep sigh, he pinches the dropper, and let's the strange, viscous liquid touch his eye. For a second his vision was muddled, but then, he was there. He was still on his back, but instead of a dropper, he held a small child in his hands. The entire room was lit with a warm glow, which helped to show the child's light brown hair, and cheerful smile. At the sight of such a jubilant face, Michael couldn't help but grin, knowing fully well that this child was his son. The face that had plagued his nightmares now manifested itself in his happy mirage. Laughing, he throws the child up into the air and catches him, making him giggle even more, before lying him down next to him on the bed. Michael sat up, and saw a large room, full of family and friends. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, besides a window overlooking some strange, neon city. Leaning besides it he could make out Sawyer, chatting with Alpha and Winchester while he drank from a full cup of ale. Nearby he saw Archer, Fae, Arthur, Ulysses, and Jim, all laughing and chatting away to their heart's content. His smile grew as he saw all of his friends, gathered around for Christmas, but as he went to stand up and join them, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. A warm, soft hand, that he could've identified even in a dream... Celina looked just as beautiful as ever, with her black hair ("hadn't it been white?", a thought gnawed at the back of his mind) and pale green eyes smiled at him. She opened her mouth, but Drake couldn't make out the words. He didn't need to. All he wanted to do was to reach out and touch her once more. She began walking towards the group, and with a charming grin, gestured for him to come with her. She called out, and the group looked at her, and began to walk towards the tree. Michael picked the toddler off of the bed and joined them in front of an ancient Polaroid camera, one of Drake's first salvages. He took one last look at his wife, his child, and his friends, before joining them in grinning for the picture. There was a flash of light, and then, nothing. He woke up sitting at the edge of his bed, staring at the cold, grey wall of his bedroom. The dropper with the hallucinogen lay on the floor besides him. His room was so dim, so barren, compared to the warm room he had just been in. His wife, his friends... they had all felt so real. It took him a moment to remember that his friends were dead, and that his wife had attempted suicide, popping pills that had killed their unborn child, that he had just held in his hands. Her hair had been black, instead of the white it had turned after she turned herself into a monster. His vision turned blurry, and for a moment, he thought that he was hallucinating again. But sobs began to rack his body, and all he felt was tears streaming down his face as he dreamed of the Christmas that could have been.[/i] [spoiler]Closed. Open for feedback. [/spoiler]