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[palebluewords]

The Sanctuary

Summary: You've found yourself in the fabled Sanctuary. Now that you are in the wolf's den, what more will you discover?

Part Six of Dead Weight: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

A/N: Phew, it's been a while! I don't know if or when I'll update again, but this is a story I've been circling back to over the past couple years when I've gotten the inspiration and it means a lot to me that anyone's read it. If you've read in the past two years, thank you :)

There was a moment of silence as you took in Michael’s words. He had not only thwarted the witches again, but also isolated you from joining forces with them. Both of you were now beyond their reach. From the smirk on his face, this was the plan all along.

“You son of a bitch!” you roared, letting your control slip. In the skylight, lightning streaked across the night sky, and a bellow of thunder shook the room. Michael quickly steadied himself, relishing in your fury. “They were right there! Why did you-”

“Oh Miss Y/L/N,” he tutted. “Did you really think I would leave you behind? You’re the most valuable export from that hellhole.” Mead, overcoming her shock at her new surroundings, returned to Michael’s side.

“Michael,” she murmured. “What’s so special about Miss Y/L/N that we couldn’t kill her with the others?” Michael regarded her respectfully as he answered.

“I have my reasons, Mead. Right now, we have to prepare our newest addition to the Sanctuary for her introduction tomorrow morning.” You stumbled to your knees, aghast.

“But,” you sputtered. “What about the witches? They’re still looking for you at the Outpost-”

“You’ll forgive me if I'm in no rush to participate in their little last stand,” Michael dismissed your concerns.

“But, you wanted them dead! After everything that’s  happened-”

“They will get what’s coming to them, believe me. But right now, there’s more pressing developments to attend to, now will you please stand up?” Slowly, you rose to your feet, staring him down. Looking at him, you noticed how different he looked now that you had abandoned the harsh lighting of the Outpost. Here, the moonlight made him look ethereal, a ghost who looked through you in the last living garden in the world. You tore your gaze away, chilled.

“What do you plan to do with me?” you asked, voice low. “Because I assure you, you won’t be able to stop me from leaving here.”

“Oh please,” he scoffed. “Drop the theatrics. I left your friends in Outpost Three to waste, the world outside remains ash and dust and God on high still doesn’t want you. There’s nothing for you outside of this Sanctuary.”

“Then why the fuck did you bring me here?!” you spat at him.

“All in due time, but I can assure you it’s not nearly as nefarious as what you’re thinking.”

“This is cheating!” you exclaimed, causing another strike of lightning. “The Outpost…that was supposed to be where everything was settled, you knew that damn well when Cordelia was at the doorstep!” Michael laughed.

“Cheating, Miss Y/L/N, really?” Then, with the controlled force of a conductor, he swung his hand up toward the skylight, and metal paneling came out to cover it up, closing out the view of the storm you had brought on. Now the light was much dimmer, Michael all but a specter against the darkness. “Do you really expect me to play by your rules? You don’t even know what they are. As it happens, the little showdown you and Cordelia had planned for me was merely an inconvenience that I didn’t have time for. I was anxious to return home.” The last word fell out of his mouth awkwardly, tripping you up. Of all the words he could have used for this place, why go for that? 

You shook your head, your frustrations finally taking their toll. What were you even doing anymore? 

Your path has become more and more oblique, with no hope of an end to your mission on earth. Time and time you’ve sought to prove your worth, and you’ve failed. You began to cry.

Michael froze as Mead stepped back, repulsed. You hid your face in your hands, quietly sobbing. Then, with a short roar, you sounded a thunderclap that vibrated through the room. This is what you’re reduced to, wailing in the stronghold of your enemy, your hopes of joining forces with your only allies shattered. You heard Michael shuffle toward Mead before speaking.

“The door out is that way, if you see anyone, ask for Josephine and tell her I’m here.”

“Michael,” Mead prodded. “Are you alright with this one?”

A pause before his answer. “Of course I am, just get Josephine and this will all be taken care of.” Mead stayed a moment, before finally obeying her orders and quitting the room. You wiped your eyes, useless creature you were.

“Oh,” Michael’s voice taunted you. “Come now, angel. How is this going to solve your problems?”

“Damn you,” you seethed. “I was supposed to be with them! I was there to help them beat you and you ruined it.”

“If it’s any comfort,” Michael lilted. “You could never have won. Cordelia was never any match for me, why do you think she never tried to take me head on herself?” Hearing him say this made you halt your crying, having remembered all the cards in your hand.

“Not just Cordelia,” you sniffled, your voice clear and low.

“I’m sure she had all the other remains of her coven along for the ride as well,” Michael said dismissively. “But it still doesn’t matter. They’re all easy pickings to me. I would have destroyed them just as I did the rest.” You lifted your head, your eyes staring vacantly up at him. 

“Of course,” you said. “I remember.” Then, adding before Michael could ask. “I was there, you know. When you attacked Miss Robichaux’s academy. I escaped with Cordelia. I felt you there.” Another pause. You couldn’t see Michael’s face in the dark, but you could guess he was keeping his guard up as he took this in.

“You really are her friend, then,” you could picture the smirk playing on his lips. “And you kept it to yourself so well. I guess it makes sense now, I suppose I felt you too that day. I felt something...unpleasant. Of course, I didn’t realize it was you then. It’s a shame you took off, it would have been a delight to meet you in the waking world then.” You scoffed. “Alright then, who else managed to leave with you? I can’t quite remember who all I did away with that day.” This comment made your lip curl in disgust.

“Oh you know,” you said. “There was Myrtle, and Madison, who I know you’ve met. And these other two witches who were fairly newer. Coco and Mallory were their names.” You smiled at him. “One of them was going to be the next Supreme, you know. How convenient that you took off, giving her all the more time to build her powers.”

Dead silence. You couldn’t help but chuckle at what you’ve dropped on him. Serves him right for walking out on his own reckoning. He has to miss out on all the revelations that come with it. Finally, he spoke again.

“I suppose I’ve come to accept that you’re going to keep surprising me,” he said slowly. “But to think that Cordelia managed to fool me…and Coco Vanderbilt of all people-!” Was he actually…embarrassed? You were fully grinning now.

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think the ruse was intentional on her part. I think Cordelia wiped their memories before the apocalypse…but yes, you had a very powerful Supreme under your nose, and now you’ve left her behind to continue to plan your downfall. Scary, isn’t it?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “And to think, you could’ve eliminated that threat this whole time, but I guess I was just too interesting, wasn’t I?”

“Angel,” Michael seethed at you. “As troubling as you want this news to be, I’m not changing course. If your witch friends still want me, let them try and find me again. Until then, make yourself comfortable.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed. “If you really think that I’m going to just sit here-” The door to the garden reopened, letting the outside light break inside of it. In stepped Ms.Mead, trailing behind a tall and slender woman. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose braid that fell over her shoulder, and she wore a light blue nightgown. She looked between the two of you, the sleep falling away from her eyes, confusion taking its place.

“Michael,” she whispered, a slight accent on her voice. “Is this-?”

“Josephine!” Michael greeted, immediately painting a smile on his face. “How good to see you again. This is Y/N Y/L/N of Outpost Three.” He took you by your shoulders- you flinched at his touch, but the fabric of your dress protected you from any real sting- and walked you over to them. “Our newest neighbor. Would you be so kind as to show her to one of the empty rooms? Preferably one of the ones in the west side of the facilities.”

“O-of course!” she responded, looking at you with wide eyes. Michael stopped just at her side to give his last order.

“Oh, and when you’re done: fetch de Flores and tell him we need to speak. It’s most urgent.” Josephine nodded, and he walked off. You watched him as he disappeared down the hall.

               With that, Josephine hurried you through the halls of the Sanctuary. You were equal parts impressed and disgusted by the marble walls and pillars. The bright white, in contrast to the dim yellow of the outpost, was both refreshing and blinding.

       Eventually, you were ushered into a bedroom, one of the most beautiful you'd ever seen. If not for the lack of windows, it would have been indistinguishable from a bedroom in a palace. In lieu of windows, however, were detailed paintings that looked to be of Renaissance persuasion.

    "I believe these are one of the more special rooms," Josephine remarked as she scurried out. "Congratulations. Make yourself at home." Hearing that word made the hairs of your neck stand. With that, she was gone.

      You took in the room. The fully furnished sitting area, the four-poster king bed, and the biblical painting of Adam and Eve in the wall all made you want to vomit. What a hell you've placed yourself in, and worse yet, you know you've only scratched the surface of it. You were in completely uncharted waters, and on Michael's terms.

You could not stay here. You resolved to go at that moment. Whatever was outside the Sanctuary was outside Michael’s reach also. You would rather wander the scourged earth haplessly than live under Michael’s watchful eye, waiting for the board to move again. You sat on your plush bed, and used your powers to lose an hour. You blinked once it was done, then changed out of the Purple dress. As unideal as the white nightgown laid out on your bed was, the purple dress was ten times worse for moving around. You stripped off the dress, put on the nightgown, and then put the purple jacket over it to feel less exposed. Then, you set out into the Sanctuary to find an escape.

The place seemed even more like a maze without Josephine to guide you through it. You mused that if Gabriel was here, he could use the angelic omniscience that you still lacked to chart a course out. Alas, you were still of that different, lesser make. You would have to search on foot.

A fruitless endeavor. The grand halls seemed to swallow you immediately, the bright lights teasing you around every corner. You passed the supposed ballroom what seemed to be a dozen times. You saw the ceiling in it and thought it must stretch for miles.  Painting after painting seemed to repeat so much that soon enough they started to blend together. Every time you thought you were trying a new path, you found yourself in the same godforsaken hallway outside the ballroom. Eventually, you couldn’t take the circles anymore, and walked inside, looking for any other paths to take. At the far end, you saw a set of double doors and scampered over to them. You pushed them open, and found an empty kitchen.

Empty, except for a teenage girl and small boy sat up on the counters with food in their hands. Their heads snapped toward you, the girl assuming a defensive demeanor at the sight of you. She looked you up and down, evaluating you.

“Are you the newcomer?” You steeled yourself against the door.

“Yes, I am,” you looked around, searching for an excuse for being here. “I stepped out of my room and couldn’t find my way back.” The boy looked at you impassively, neither believing nor disbelieving, he just looked right through you.

“What part are you in?” the girl asked you, still watching you closely.

“The west part?”

“Back out the large arches, take a right, you’ll find it among all the doors.” She stared at you, silently commanding you to leave. You bowed your head, desperate to get away from her cold gaze.

“Thank you,” you stumbled out of the kitchen, beelining in the direction she told you to go. Who was that?! You're stomach turned, a sensation you'd only experienced in the past because of Michael. There was something in the coldness of her gaze... Good or bad, it wasn’t natural. As you crossed the ballroom again, you saw Michael's shadow dance against the hallway walls. As you entered, you saw him walking toward you.

"Michael-" you began.

"To bed, angel," he dismissed you. "Nothing for you to do now. You should get your rest." 

“Are you doing this?” You asked. “With the hallways? I’ve never been lost like this.”

“Could be the sleep deprivation,” but as he smirked, you knew your true answer. “Goodnight, now.” And with that, he turned and walked away from you. Without thinking, you spat at his back as he walked by you. He only chuckled. "Yes, better get some sleep." You watched him disappear around a corner and huffed. You knew how to go nowhere but back in the direction of your room. A bird in its gilded cage. Very well. To bed, then.

You enchanted your door behind you and fell asleep in your comically large bed. You dreamt of the garden and the stars you hadn’t seen in so long.

---

The next morning, you awoke to a gentle knock on your door. You knew immediately that whoever it was, it wasn’t Michael. Nausea induced by his presence aside, he would have had a much grander way of making himself known. Adjusting your nightgown, you opened the door to Josephine.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she greeted curtly.

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Josephine, how can I help you-”

“Mr. Langdon wanted to ensure that you didn’t miss breakfast,” she interrupted. “He was very adamant that you meet some of the others.”

“Others,” you repeated. “How many other people are living here?”

“On this level or in the whole Sanctuary?” She took your stunned look as answer enough. “Throughout the complex are two-thousand people. Mr. Langdon has appointed leaders to multiple units of the Sanctuary to oversee their goings-ons. Beyond the facilities we have multiple radiation-controlled cities in-progress  that we are using to rehabilitate those out there who survived the nuclear blast. Those are currently at six-thousand, with more arriving every day. In our unit, the Eden unit, we have two-hundred. Mr. Langdon oversees this unit.”

“That’s…quite an operation.”

“Mr. Langdon is a dedicated man,” she shrugged. “Will you join us?” You thought for a moment. So far, everyone you’ve met seems oblivious to who Michael is, or at the very least accepting of it. You had to wonder what Michael’s aim is to pack this place full of seemingly harmless people. What did he want with them?

“I will,” you answered. “Just give me a moment to get ready.” You closed the door. After freshening yourself, you searched the wardrobe of the room.

You would only be a little embarrassed to admit to the sigh of relief you breathed when you saw a selection of clothes beyond the Victorian era and the purple monochrome. The clothes here were normal. The range was casual to formal and modern day to items that couldn’t be associated with fashions earlier than the 1960s. Whatever Michael was up to here, it at least wasn’t playing period dress up with human dolls. You wondered if it was so he could stand out more, with his bold makeup and clothing. A wolf among the sheep.

You settled on a flowing white top and a pair of flared- would you believe it- jeans. You reopened the door to Josephine, finally taking to note her own beige maxi skirt and brown sweater. Almost like being in the real world again. “Ready.”

Some of the hallways Josephine took you down were all too familiar from your accursed walk the night before. You felt yourself tense as you remembered how Michael’s magics had disoriented you. Today, you could make out the twists of the halls perfectly, assuring you he had let his little hexes fade. The halls also didn’t hold the same foreboding energies as before. Along the ceilings so you could see little skylights letting sunlight in. None of them were so grand as the one in the garden, but you relished in seeing the blue of the morning sky again.

Finally, Josephine brought you to a large set of doors. “I hope you’re awake by now,” she muttered, as she lifted the giant knockers and slammed them three times before opening them. “Look sharp.” Your eyes widened at the site.

A sea of two-hundred faces, all sat at long feast tables, all turned to look at you. Stupefied, you looked around. You saw a litany of groups and families and couples sat together, looking at you as the strange new outsider. What kind of place was this? At the back of the room, you could make out the outline of Michael’s form, sitting at a head table, with Mead’s dark figure sat at his side. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and you could see he was wearing a plain, white shirt with billowing sleeves. A far cry from the Outpost regalia. You could tell he was looking at you, and you just knew he was smiling. After a moment, he rose.

“My friends in Eden,” he boomed. “As you all know I have been on an expedition to our smaller outposts to rescue the survivors housed there. It was to my dismay that I found them all overrun and destroyed.” Hearing this, you remember the smile on his face when he had told your fellow survivors at Outpost Three the same news. “But I found hope in my last stop, one person who could live with us in our Sanctuary and join us in rebuilding the earth. An exceptional and compassionate young woman whose heart, like all of ours, longs for the world before the nuclear winter, a most excellent addition to our mission. Let us all welcome our newcomer, the lone survivor of Outpost Three, and all other outposts, Miss Y/N Y/L/N!” With this, you were enveloped in thunderous applause.

“Lone survivor?” you asked Josephine.

“What else would you call it?” she asked you. “Come, he wants you at the front table.” With that, she led you across the sea of well-wishers, all smiling kindly at you. Michael stared at you the whole way. It felt like an eternity before you were finally standing before him, feeling like an animal being sold to the slaughterhouse.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Michael greeted you. “I’m so glad you could join us.” Your eyes grazed over the rest of the table. From the right of him, you could see Josephine going to take a seat, as well as a little girl next to them, beaming at you. To his left, you saw two empty seats,  next to them a woman dressed in bright greens and yellows, and a large man dressed in a simple plaid shirt. Meanwhile, Mead stood behind Michael’s chair, not even bothering to pretend to eat.

“I didn’t know that I could refuse,” you said. At this, the unnamed man chuckled, and the brightly dressed woman smiled at you.

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint us with your wit,” Michael continued, unfazed. “Do come and sit, your food is coming soon.” A moment passed, and you realized that he meant for you to sit next to him.

“I don’t know that I’m hungry,” you told him.

“But of course,” he said with complete ease.. “How could you ever find your appetite after those cubes in the outpost? But this food is real, I must insist you indulge yourself.” Seeing there was no tactical way to make him relent, you climbed the platform step and sat yourself next to him. Your companions to your right were quick to introduce themselves to you.

“Glad to have you,” grunted the man in plaid. “The name is Roger Richards. I’m the unit planner for the Sanctuary. I design the infrastructure.” You inclined your head.

“So you designed these skylights?” you asked. He nodded. “They’re wonderful.” His eyes glittered with pride.

“They’re actually pretty basic in design,” he said. “I just thought that these people would need some sunlight.”

“Roger loves to be modest,” tittered the woman next to him. “I’m Phoebe, I’m the overseer of agriculture. I heard from Langdon you tried one of our apples already?” Your stomach crawled at the memory of the poison coursing through you. You forced on a weak smile.

“Oh yes,” you said. “It was such a relief to have a taste of the world before.”

“Well,” she smiled. “Then you will like the Sanctuary.” At this, you couldn’t force yourself to agree. So you smiled again, and pretended to turn your focus to the food you had no stomach for. Your gaze kept flicking to Michael next to you, happily digging into his breakfast. You wanted to smack the cutlery out of his hands.

“Josephine is Head of Operations,” he said without looking at you. “She sees all of the in-between and nitty gritty of the Sanctuary. She also oversees the nursery.”

“Who’s the little one?” You asked him, stomach churning while looking at the painfully oblivious little girl.

“Rebecca, she’s a rescue. Are you going to eat?”

“I told you,” you said. “I’m not hungry. What do you mean ‘rescue’?”

“She’s a survivor from the nuclear wastelands,” he told you. “An orphan from the fallout. Now she sits as a symbol of hope for us all. Isn’t that inspiring?”

“Hope,” you repeated, too tired to laugh at the suggestion. “Just what kind of a sick game are you playing with these people?”

“All in due time, Miss Y/L/N,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to spoil it too early.” Then his gaze flitted to a man approaching the table, dressed in black robes. Your heart leapt a moment, mistaking it for Satanic attire. Once your panic subsided, you looked closer and realized with dread that rather than the anarchic black and red of the Satanists, this man donned a familiar vestment of black and white… he couldn’t be…

“Ah,” Michael smiled. “Father de Flores, good morning.” You looked at Michael in shock. “This is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Of course,” said de Flores. “It is my pleasure to meet you at last.” You opened your mouth to speak, to scream, anything to warn this man of the demon in his midst. Michael clamped his hand on your shoulder, purposefully grazing a finger over some exposed skin on the nape of your neck. The sting of his touch was enough to shut you up. You could only nod as the man took his seat next to you.

Michael removed his hand, and you watched as he flexed his fingers in pain. A moment invisible to all but you. He lifted his eyes to meet your accusing gaze.

“Oh angel,” he whispered the nickname for only you to hear, before speaking again at full volume. “You really must see the chapel that Richards designed. It is truly something to behold.”

[palebluewords]

Crash (1996)

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American Horror Story: Apocalypse | Michael Langdon

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Halloween

Summary: The time has come for Veneable's ball, but with more pressing matters at home, it's unlikely you'll be in attendance. Turns out you're not the only one planning to skip.

Part Five of Dead Weight: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

A/N: And that is IT! These are all the finished chapters of Dead Weight~ Sorry for the flood, but thank you if you gave it a look! I hope to have more out soon, and I especially hope you guys enjoy what I have so far :)

The next few days were all too quiet. You somehow alienated Mallory, Coco along with her, and all the other survivors were either in the depths of despair or anxiously awaiting the Halloween party. You heard nothing more from Michael, either, which you hated most of all. It was one thing to be constantly at his beck and call, but it was another entirely to be lying in a wait for him. Every moment that he would have spent toying with you was now a moment where he was deliberating on you and Mallory, a thought which frightened you.

And what’s more, he’s rattled you. He accused you of being a demon, and now that you’ve finally had your taste of holy water, you could offer no defense for yourself. All you could do was look at yourself in the mirror and wonder. What were you really? Was your whole purpose a lie, just to give someone else the assurance that the catastrophe of the world would one day be righted? Where the hell does that leave you?

Worst of all, tonight was the night of the goddamn Halloween Ball. The fact that you had to deal with Veneable’s power grabs along with the threat of Michael was the ultimate insult to injury. You weren’t yet sure if a knife could kill you, but the idea of being stuck in the Outpost with her any longer made you seriously consider giving you a try. You had half a mind not to go.

The only thing in your power to do at this point was pray. Pray for Michael to drop dead, pray for the earth to return to its original state, and pray for Veneable’s tongue to fall out of her mouth. The irony was not lost on you, praying to a God that had forsaken you. But the dream of Him was all you had now. He may never accept you as one of His own… but He could stop Michael, so why doesn’t He?

As the Halloween party approached, you also remembered to pray that, should you die, you wouldn’t be damned to hell just for existing. The fires of hell sounded bad enough on their own, you couldn’t stomach the idea of meeting Michael there.

---

You were surrounded by eyes. Everywhere you looked, up, down, behind you and in front, they stared at you. They were unblinking, and you knew that they hated you. Somewhere, you could hear Gabriel begging, but couldn’t see him.

“Of course she looks wrong now, ” he said. “And I accept that that’s my fault. But you, you can fix her! And we’ll have something to fight that thing below!” The eyes said nothing. You walked toward the closest one, curious. As you approached, Gabriel’s voice grew more faint.

“She’s wrong,” he said again. “But…she’s good! She’s practically a child, a perfect blank slate!”

“That’s not for you to decide,” a thousand voices rang out all around, distant and near. You jumped, but then looked at the eye again, staring at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to be here. But I want to help-”

“Silence, abomination.” Gabriel’s voice was completely gone now, it was just you and it, them, Him. “Every moment you spend here is a sacrilege, and I can bear it no longer.” With that, the eyes all blinked, and you found yourself hurtling downward. You don’t remember screaming, it all happened so fast. One second, you’re in heaven, the next, your body has formed a crater in the earth.

---

A few hours before the party, you decided to chance a reconciliation with Mallory. You asked around with what greys you could find, and found her staring at the fireplace in one of the main corridors. It would have been disconcerting, had you not already suspected what brought this on. You piped up;

“You better not let Veneable catch you. I’m sure she wants all hands on deck for her little party.” Mallory gasped, then relaxed slightly when she saw it was you. Her shoulders stayed tight.

“Y/N,” she greeted curtly.

“Can we talk?”

She looked back into the fire, deliberating. Finally, “say whatever you want.” You sighed.

“I know I’ve done some things that have made you uncomfortable,” you mumbled. “And I’m sorry for that…I didn’t mean to make trouble for you with Langdon, or Coco-”

“It’s a little more than that,” Mallory snapped. “You know that already. You seem to know quite a bit.”

“Like what?” you asked, feigning incredulity.

“Look Y/N,” Mallory huffed, facing you again. “I don’t care what you’re hiding. I’m sure it’s none of my business. But I’d appreciate it if you'd stop treating me like I’m clueless, and I’d especially appreciate it if you stopped trying to drag me into your weird shit with Langdon.”

“What,” you sputtered. “What about Langdon?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she said. “When I came to you about my interview, you were like, egging me on about talking to him. And then when I talk to him, he’s going on about you -”

“He talked about me?” you interrupted, color draining from your face.

“Well yeah,” Mallory said. “Well, I guess Coco too, but he seemed to really not like you.” She closed the distance between you, whispering “he asked me if I ever thought about killing you, and if I would if it would benefit me.” Oh, that son of a bitch.

“Oh,” you said quietly. Then, trying to deflect, “He asked me weird shit too, though. He was trying to get me to throw everyone else under the bus-”

“Look Y/N,” Mallory stopped you. “I don’t care. I don’t. I’ve got my own shit to figure out, and I don’t need to worry about whatever game you’re playing with him. Just promise me you won’t drag me into that shit again.” You wringed your hands, embarrassed.

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” then she looked you up and down. “You might want to start getting ready for the party. Veneable might have a conniption if people don’t follow the dress code.” She nodded at you, then skirted out of the room, leaving you alone.

---

You decided to make a special point of not dressing up. You wore your usual purple dress, and with it you were to sport a plain black domino mask, with some silver lining. If Veneable has a problem, she could shove it.

You thought back to your conversation with Mallory. Well, at least you had something of an understanding. But you were again questioning if you were doing any good by being there. All you’ve done was draw Michael’s attention, and you were probably only still in play for as long as you were able to hold it. And what with his radio silence, you felt something horrible was on the horizon.

As you buttoned your jacket, you heard a knock at your door. You sighed, was Veneable seriously coming to collect you all? You grumbled as you opened the door, only to have the wind knocked out of you when you found Michael instead, smiling at you with his hands tied behind his back. You gasped, and he drank in your surprise with smug amusement.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he greeted. “I do hope that that’s not the costume you’re planning to wear tonight.”

“What do you want?” you spat at him. He held one hand out, as though to stay you.

“Relax angel,” he said. “I’m not here to fight. At least not right now.”

“I should hope not,” you sneered. “After the last time, I don’t know if you’re up for a round two.” Your remark seemed to bounce off of him with little impact. “Why are you here then?”

“Maybe I just wanted to speak to you,” he said. “Did you ever think of that?”

“Oh yes,” you scoffed. “Because you find me so interesting to talk to.”

“But of course, angel.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Well we’re talking,” you said. “So why don’t you just get to what you came here for?” Michael smiled at you.

“I’m unable to attend Veneable’s little soiree tonight,” he said. “But given that I had some hand in the event planning, I thought I’d deliver your party favor personally.” He produced a bright red apple. Your eyes widened at the sight. It’d been so long since you had something as mundane as an apple, you could hardly remember the taste. You quickly grabbed it from him, a wry joke about the Antichrist offering you the fruit flashing through your mind, but you quickly forgot about it. How sad that even after your dinner, you’re still so unused to having real human food again.

“How did you-?”

“Come on Y/N,” he smirked. “I think you know well enough by now that I’m a man of means.” You shut up, not wanting to know any more about how he came by those ‘means’. You palmed the apple, admiring its beautiful redness. Michael watched you intently. “Well, go on.” He encouraged you. “Try it.”

You looked at him, suspicious of his intensity. Slowly, you raised the apple to your lips, and took a bite out of it.

It was delicious. Heavenly, even. Going for so long without a pleasure as simple as an apple made it all the sweeter. You swallowed it, and actually felt more sustained with that one little bite than you ever had with those loathsome cubes. But, when you felt the bite hit the bottom of your stomach, you got a crawling feeling in your body. One, that in the body of the mortal, could have been quite serious. Deadly, even. You gave Michael an unimpressed look.

“Nice try,” you said. “But it’s going to take more than poison to get rid of me.” Michael, undeterred, stayed smiling.

“Had to give it a try,” and with that, he walked away from you. “Have a lovely night, angel.”

You watched him down the hallway. The little sickness in your stomach subsided, replaced with a feeling harder to name. God forbid you ever admit it, but these little titfortats you had with Michael were beginning to be… fun . You shook off the feeling. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t last. However things went, it would likely end with the demise of one of you, and you weren’t ready to return to Heaven just yet. You retreated back into your room.

Trying to calm the ants in your stomach,  you laid down, resting your eyes. The party was happening in a matter of minutes, but you couldn’t be bothered with Veneable. You would rest here, and if she had a problem with it, she could come and get you herself. The more you’ve had to deal with Michael, the more convinced you were that that woman wasn’t capable of hurting a fly.

---

You awoke with a start. Weighing upon you was a feeling of unspeakable dread. This was a dread you felt only twice before in your short life. Once, in the hours before the bombs fell. The second time, right upon Michael’s arrival to Outpost 3. Something terrible was happening, or about to happen. You had to find out.

Stumbling from the bed, your first thought was the other survivors. How long had you been out this time? You checked the time. Two hours. You ran to the library, not at all encouraged by the fact that you ran into no other living person on the way there. When you reached the grand door, you found it shut, unusual enough without the sense of doom hanging over you. With a wave of your hand, they thrust open, exposing the carnage inside.

“ No! ” you screamed, clasping your hands to your chest at the sight. Everyone was dead, decaying in pools of their own vomit. Gallant, Emily, and good God, Mallory . You looked down and found an apple had rolled away from one the bodies, the same brilliant red as the one Michael had gifted you. That motherfucker -- you were ashamed that you didn’t see something like this coming. Of course he didn’t have that just for you, what an arrogant fool you were.

Desperate to right the situation, you ran over to Mallory and grabbed her in your arms. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, and she looked completely sick ridden, of course she did.

“Mallory,” you whispered. “I need you to live. Right now .” Racking your brain, you remembered Gabriel’s incantation to recall life. You had only seen him use it once on a dead bird, but it was all you had. “ Creatura dei, meo mandato: respira iterum. ” You stared at her, and she stared up, still dead. “ Respira iterum! respira iterum , dammit! Mallory, please!” But she gave you no reply. Your friend was no more. You sobbed over her body, eyes roaming the rest of the room at the dead all around…before noticing the missing parties. Coco, Ms.Mead, and Veneable. If Coco was still alive…there may be a chance for the witches yet. You rose, giving Mallory one last parting look, and made your way to Michael’s office. The fun and games were over.

As you made your course, you summoned your powers, feeling the electricity pulsate out of you. If Michael still wanted to see the extent of your powers, you had every intention of showing him. You used your powers again to open his doors, storming inside.

“ MICHAEL, ” you shouted, stopping short at the scene before you. Veneable dead on the floor, a bullet wound in her chest, and Michael locked in an embrace with a sobbing Ms.Mead. You saw his shoulders tense up before he broke away from her, wiping his eyes as he faced you. Somehow the most jarring part of this was seeing the tears staining his face.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he greeted you with sarcastic enthusiasm. “You certainly have an impeccable sense of timing.” You looked back at Ms.Mead, gawking at the gun in her hand. Does that mean she…?

“What,” you stammered. “What have you done with her?!”

“I’ve done nothing to Ms.Mead, I assure you.” The venom with which he said it…you didn’t think he could be offended. “She’s returned to where her loyalties truly lie.” You looked again at the body of Veneable.

“But…she’s always been loyal to Veneable . She’s always done everything she wished of her-”

“Ah, angel,” Michael returned to Mead’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder. Mead on the other hand, still looked somewhat disoriented, but she glared at you the same way she always did in your near two years of knowing each other. Michael smiled at her like one would a prized pet. “But it was by my command that she was so obedient to the late Miss Veneable. Her true allegiance has always been to me and my father.” That was the word that gave you the connective tissue. Father . But if she was a Satanist…

“My God,” you exclaimed. “She’s…but she couldn’t… that woman died. ” Michael smiled at you.

“You’re much sharper than I gave you credit for, angel. But it’s true, I’ve restored to the very Miriam Mead that those witches took from me.” You shook your head. This was some kind of trick, he was trying to distract you, he had to be. Mead was Mead. She was a cold, callous woman, but she wasn’t involved with him . Somehow he’s influenced her, as he did with Gallant, but that wasn’t the most important matter at hand.

“Where’s Coco?” you spat at him, resummoning your powers.

“I would expect her to be in the pile of bodies my Mead amassed in the library,” he replied. “Did you somehow miss that on your way here?” Mead raised her gun at you.

“Michael,” she called to him.  “Should I…?”

“No, Mead. I’m afraid that wouldn’t do any good. Miss Y/L/N’s not like the others. She’s a special one.” He quit her side again, approaching you as if you weren’t clearly ready to strike at any given moment.

“You’re lying,” you hissed. “She’s not with the others, and she wouldn’t have just missed that party, I know her.”

“Angel,” Michael rolled his eyes. “I feel like despite all we’ve shared with one another, we’re still at square one. I have no absolutely no use for Miss Vanderbilt. She’s a vapid shell! I’ve made it clear to you time and time again that you are one of the only people of interest to me in this pit. Yet here you are, coming in here, hurling your threats and insults like a bat out of-” He stopped himself, smirking. “Forgive me for the expression. I truly didn’t mean it.”

You studied him. What was the game here? If he’s taken Coco, then he must know that she’s more than what he’s just said she is. Why, after everything else, would he play dumb now? You had to end the line of questioning here, lest he realize something.

“Then what about the others?” you deflected. “Weren't you going to take any of them to your precious sanctuary?”

“Did you really believe that? Those people? There were all weak willed morons. Either too pure to have any inclination toward evil or cowardly to act on any inclination they had. And then here comes you-” He halted his speech, and you whipped your head toward the door. You felt it too.

A powerful force was approaching the Outpost. A group of witches, and you knew exactly who.

“Cordelia,” Michael breathed. When you turned back to him, he was already standing back with Mrs.Mead, hands clasped firmly on her shoulder. His eyes flashed angrily toward you. “I should commend you for keeping this beyond my notice. You truly convinced me that you had nothing to do with her.” You smiled at him, dispelling your powers in respect to Cordelia’s arrival.

“Your day of reckoning has come, Langdon.” At this, he laughed.

“Oh no. My business is well and done here. It’s time I move on, and with no passengers beside my beloved Miss Mead, I can leave before those witches even reach the door.” A shimmer glanced across their forms, and you realized: he was transmuting .

“No-!”

“Goodbye, angel. I’m sorry to leave you like this. I would have liked for us to get to know each other better.” He and Mead flickered, and you knew that in seconds he would be beyond your grasp.

“Not so fast, you son of a bitch!” You launched yourself at him, gripping tight onto his shoulders. At first, the fabric separating the two of you helped to prevent the usual burn of his touch, but then there was a bright flash, and an invisible force pushed at you, bumping your head into the crook of his neck. You shouted in pain, and looking at Michael, you saw a grimace that indicated he wasn’t enjoying the experience much himself. Yet, there was also a note of satisfaction that shook you. The force subsided, and you fell away from him to the ground.

“What-!” You looked around. You were no longer in Michael’s office, but some kind of indoor garden. All around you were plants bearing fruits and flowers. You were amongst a row of different fruit trees, and above of you was a gigantic skylight showing you the night sky that you hadn’t seen since the apocalypse first started. There were so many stars, you couldn’t for the life of you grasp how it was possible to see them after all of the nuclear fallout. You saw Michael, dusting himself off from the travel, smiling down at you.

“I’m glad I could persuade you to join us, Miss Y/L/N, really. For a moment, I wasn’t sure I convince you to come with.” With that, you realized you had been tricked.

A pit growing in your stomach, you asked him; “where are we?” Though, you already suspected the answer.

“Angel dearest, we’re in the Sanctuary.”

[palebluewords]

A Demonstration

Summary: In which you get show off your powers, at the expense of Michael.

Part Four to Dead Weight: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A/N: Whoo! One more to go and I swear I'll be done for the night!

You nearly leapt out of your skin. All your protective wards had been for nothing, and what’s more, he made it all the way to your bedside without your knowing. Without thinking, you ran to the fireplace and threw the letter into the flames. You watched as it burned into nothingness, knowing it didn’t change the state of things. Not only had you caught Michael’s attention, but now, in the wake of learning what you really were, you suspected he may be fixated on you for the time being.

You ran into the shower after burning the note, as though it would get rid of any trace Michael left behind. Absentmindedly turning up the heat, you tried to think through the implications of this new development. Michael had said he wasn’t curious about Mallory, which may mean that you could serve as a good distraction from her true identity. On the other hand, he said he could handle her, which may mean he planned on making moves to take her out of the picture. For all you knew, he might have tried something since your last meeting.

So where does that leave you, angel dear? Your very purpose here is to thwart Michael’s plans, but you still don’t know what they are. The world has already been decimated, and he claims to everyone that his interest lies in the rebuilding of humanity. Of course, that’s probably bullshit. But then, it could be true if he’s trying to rebuild it in his father’s unholy image. But what would your task be then? To kill whatever sliver of humans Michael permits into his new world? Not terribly far off from the scripture may dictate…God knows that’s the closest thing you’ve got to an instruction manual as the cast out angel.

By the time you leave the shower, steam has completely filled your bathroom. As you got dressed, a knock sounded at your door. You opened the door to find Mallory, slightly pale in the face, standing before you.

“Veneable’s called an emergency meeting.”

When you arrived at the library, you saw Coco sitting on the end of one of one of the couches, Gallant was sitting on the opposite side looking...glum, to say the least. You felt a pit grow in your stomach, now knowing the real story of what happened between him and Evie. You met Coco’s eye, and gestured at Gallant questioningly. She rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her, which you didn’t hesitate to take. You had to fight back a smile. Perhaps this is the return of the Coco you met all those years ago.

You looked at the other Purples. There was Dinah on the couch opposite you, and her son stubbornly standing behind her rather than sitting down with her. Timothy and Emily were standing on the other side of your couch, clinging together like frightened animals. Michael, of course, was absent. He hadn’t bothered to mingle with everyone as a group since his arrival, no point in doing it now. As you thought about him, Veneable entered the room and loudly thrust her cane into the floor, calling your attention. Everyone looked at her, uneasy. Her expression, for whatever reason, was less severe than usual.

“These last several months have been difficult for all of us,” she began. “And perhaps, in my efforts to keep us safe, punitive measures have been taken too far.” Ain’t that the truth , you thought, remembering the infamous “stew” from your first days there . She went on: “I believe now what we need is a moment of celebration, camaraderie.” Dinah glanced at her son at this, and you looked around to see if anyone else was picking up on the irony. Of course, they didn’t how, typical- You caught yourself. This place was making you more cynical. God willing you’d be out of this here soon, one way or another. It was just a matter of whether you would find your way out in a burst of triumph or if Michael would walk you out himself to execute you.

“Which is why this weekend, as a gesture of goodwill, we will have a Halloween soiree.” On either side of you, Coco and Gallant squealed at each other, while you kept your eyes trained on Veneable. “In the style of a Victorian masquerade ball.” Oh, come on! Could this woman go a minute without her stupid Jane Austen shit? It’s bad enough that she makes you sweat in those stupid outfits day in day out, now she’s graduated to throwing parties to suit her own fancies- Oh, there you go again. God, what was going on with you?

“We’ve all lost track of time a bit,” Veneable went on. “And this festive occasion is the perfect opportunity to remedy this. And I encourage you all to use your imaginations to create what I’m sure will be exquisite costumes.” And then, with that sickly sweet smile: “Attendance is mandatory.” Ah, there it is. While the Coco and Gallant began to buzz with excitement, you watched Veneable’s exit closest. This is certainly the most generous you’ve seen her be since your arrival here, which is exactly why you didn’t like what was going on. Of course, it was clear to everybody that Michael’s presence made her fear for her position, so perhaps this why just an assertion of her authority over the Outpost. Suddenly, Coco grabbed your hands.

“Oh Y/N,” she exclaimed. “You have got to plan costumes with Gallant and me.” Out of nowhere, Gallant was with the two of you, him and Coco twittering away about the preparations that needed to be made for the party. You mused to yourself how such a mindless distraction could make Coco forget her annoyance with Gallant, and Gallant his grief over Evie. A sign of the times, you guessed.

Still, you allowed them to drag you off. Mallory was at your heels, still looking like she’d a ghost. You couldn’t say for sure why that was, but you of course had your guesses.

--

In Coco’s bedroom, she and Gallant reminisced about Halloweens of times long gone, while you feigned polite interest. You yourself had only experienced a handful of Halloweens before the apocalypse, and while you found the tradition of trick-or-treating cute, you didn’t see the fun in dressing up. In fairness, you and Gabriel didn’t have time to bother with buying costumes, nor did you have the imagination to use your shapeshifting abilities to conjure yourself one. Your Halloweens were spent inside, handing out candy to children that came by, the rest of night devoted to casting wards to prevent the intrusion of demons and ghosts.

You eyed Mallory handling Coco’s shoes in the corner of the room, and floated closer to her. “Hey Mallory.” She acknowledged you with a brief glance.

“Hey Y/N.”

“How was your interview?” she stiffened.

“Oh you know,” she said, voice hollow. “Pretty sure I’m getting left behind here, but trying not to think about that.”

“Ouch,” you frowned, trying to mask your worry. “Sorry. I’m sure it’s fine, though.” Mallory glowered,

“It isn’t.”

“Mallory!” Coco scolded. “Why are you molesting my Loubs?” Mallory’s eyes flitted toward her.

“I was just thinking I could use the spikes for a mask,” she answered flatly. “You’ve always hated this pair, you haven’t touched them for years.” You had to mask your disbelief. She hadn’t worn them since before the bombs fell and she still saw fit to bring them to the Outpost?

“Well, have you ever heard of something having sentimental value?” She turned around. “Besides, I don’t think dressing up is really for you grays.”

“That’s not fair Coco,” you admonished her. “Mallory’s one of the only grays that’s around us all the time, per your request. Why shouldn’t she enjoy the party with us?”

“Good luck getting that past Veneable, Y/N dear,” Coco scoffed. “I don’t know why she’s got such a hard-on for Halloween. It’s not like we’ve celebrated anything since we’ve checked into this hellhole. The closest thing we’ve had to a Christmas feast was Stu.” You grimaced at that as Gallant agreed with Coco, whose eyes then widened. “Wait, what if this is just an excuse?” Then she gasped. “Oh, my God. They’re using the party to announce who’s going to the Sanctuary!” Mallory stalked toward the doorway as you watched them. “Okay,  we have to rethink this whole look. I think it’s too much. I don’t want to rub it in for the ones who don’t get picked! No offense, Mallory.”

“I didn’t think I was going anyways,” Mallory said.

“I think the ones who are going already know,” Gallant said gently to Coco.

“What do you mean?” Coco looked at him crossly. “Did Langdon tell you something?”

“Well,” Gallant said. “Let’s just say our one-on-one was very illuminating.” Coco scoffed.

“Oh Gallant,” she exclaimed. “Come off it. I already told Y/N that you screw-”

“Wait,” Mallory said. “Did something weird happen to you, too?” Your face went pale. Part of you wanted to stop Mallory from going on, from giving herself away. Another, selfish part of you wanted her to continue, to find out what exactly happened. Michael never told you what exactly transpired between the two of them. The selfish part won out.

“What are you babbling about?” Coco squawked. “What did he say to you?”

“It wasn’t anything he said...it was, uh, a feeling.” Mallory looked up. “I think I set the room on fire.”

“What? Like you knocked over a candle or something?”

“ Coco ,” you growled, your voice unexpectedly sharp. The trio all looked at you with shock, and you had to swallow before speaking again, more calmly. “Just let her finish.” You attempted to give Mallory a reassuring smile, which didn’t get rid of the look she was giving you. “Go ahead, Mallory.”

Mallory stared at you for one more moment before quickly looking away, disconcerted. “What I meant was, like, flames shot out of the fireplace and went everywhere. I know this is impossible…but I think I made the fire with my mind.” Seeing the incredulous looks of Coco and Gallant, she went on “maybe it was the blast, the radiation. It did something and now I’m like the Dark Phoenix.” Aaand here was where she lost you, as well. The Dark Phoenix? At this point, you wondered just how far Cordelia’s mind wiping spell had gone on these two.

“Wait,” Gallant said. “So are you saying you have superpowers now?”

“Is that so crazy?” You cut in, arms crossed. “Stranger things have happened around here, haven’t they Gallant ?” Your pointed look silenced him, though you felt his wide eyes on you as you turned away. It gave you a strange satisfaction. Coco paid this exchange no attention as she got up and stalked toward a candle.

“Well okay,” she said. “There’s a fire right there, bitch. Do it again.” Mallory gulped.  “Come on, prove it! Make flames shoot out everywhere!”

“Coco-” you started, but she held up a hand.

“Buhbuhbuh!” she tittered. “No input from you, tagalong. I wanna see what Mallory’s capable of.” You watched as Mallory stared at the flame, but nothing happened. “This is lame, Mallory, even for you. And why are you even touching my stuff? Evie’s room is full of crap you can use, so what don’t you search your powers and see if you can make yourself disappear? ” She looked at you. “You can go too, you’re harshing the vibe.”

Mallory stalked out, and you followed on her heels. In the hallway, she was already leagues ahead of you. “Mallory, wait!” It was then that she turned on you.

“You knew, didn’t you?” she accused.

“Mallory,” you sputtered. “What are you talking about-”

“ Langdon ,” she said. “All that warrior bullshit you gave me after your interview was one thing, but back there…” she trails off, before glaring at you again. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but from now on, keep your distance.”

“Mallory,” you repeated. “I only want to help you-”

“I don’t want your help,” she hissed. “You have an agenda. I don’t know what it is but I do know that I don’t want anything to do with it.” With that, she stormed off, leaving you open mouthed in the hall.

--

You hid in your room after that, going over what happened over and over again in your head. Something you did in Coco’s room drove Mallory off, but what? Were you too encouraging of her showing off her powers? Or was it when you snapped at Coco? You remembered how she looked at you, but thought she’d quickly forget about it. As you paced, you felt yourself become detached from the flow of time, but you paid it no mind.

Something in the way she looked at you reminded you of Cordelia the last time you saw her. How she seethed at you when you weren’t delivering on Gabriel’s promises. Were you really so detrimental to the witches? If so, what were you even doing here?

--

You screamed as Gabriel reset your other leg. He winced. “It’s alright,” he soothed. “It’s alright. You’re almost all together again.”

“Why did He do that?” you whimpered. “What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, reaching for your right arm. “This is all my fault. You guessed right, I wasn’t supposed to be in His workshop.”

“Why did you do it, then?” you cried. “Couldn’t you have just asked?” At this, he chuckled.

“I did,” he said, lightly grabbing your elbow. “But he refused me, and I disobeyed him still, because…I was scared.” He reset your arm.

“Scared of what?” you wailed. “What?”

“His name is Michael,” Gabriel said. “Now, your other arm.” He grabbed you, he clicked you back into place, and your screaming continued. “So far, you’re the only effort anyone’s made to stop him, and He condemned us for it.”

--

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock at the door. Suddenly, time began moving at the snail pace of human comprehension again. You opened your door to a gray you didn’t know.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she greeted. “Langdon has requested that I come and fetch you for him.” She paused before adding “and he wanted me to tell you that you’re late.”

“Late?” you scoffed. “He never gave me a proper time.”

“It is nine o’clock, miss.” Oh shit.

“Right,” you said. “Well, okay. Shall we?” The gray led you to Langdon’s office, and quickly ran off, leaving you to enter on your own. You took a deep breath before pushing the doors open. You found Michael lazing in a lounge chair. He barely lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he said. “How nice of you to finally join me.”

“Pardon me,” you said. “It’s just that…time moves a little differently for angels, is all.” True, but of course you didn’t mention that it was something you had some control over. “If I’m not careful, I can lose it pretty quickly.”

“Should I be offended then,” he smiled. “That it was so easy for you to forget our engagement?”

“Absolutely not,” you said. “Especially given the fact that I never agreed to your dinner.”

“Nevermind then,” he ignored you, hopping from his seat. “I’m in no mood to start off with an argument. Your food is over there.” He gestured to his desk. You rolled your eyes as you walked over, then stopped when you noticed the steam rising from your plate. The food was still hot. You fixed Michael a quizzical look.

"Come now Miss Y/L/N," he chided you. "You didn't really think I'd make you eat cold food, did you?"

"That was decent of you," you said, for you were completely at a loss of what else to say. You sat down at the desk, only to further surprise.

You'd be loathe to admit that the theme Michael was going for was lost on you at first, it had been a long time since you had food that wasn't one of those disgusting cubes. On your plate was venison, paired with lentils and sycamore fruit. With it all was a glass of water, but you were more taken with the actual bounty before you.

"Where did you get all of this?" You asked him. From the look on his face, it was clear he enjoyed your surprise.

"The sanctuary keeps a fine stock of food," he said. "Now, don't tell anyone, but we even have a garden. In it we grow everything you could ever imagine. It's quite a sight, even you might enjoy it." You chuckled at this, knowing there was no way in hell you'd ever see that place. "You'll forgive me for eating my share without you." He sidled up to his seat across from you.

Still speechless, you sat down. You fumbled with your fork at first, like you didn't know what to do with it, and then you dug in. It was delicious. A year and half without food like this...a small groan escaped your mouth, in spite of yourself. Aghast, you looked quickly at Michael, who feigned a clueless smile. Bastard.

"You had this the whole time?" You asked him, knowing the answer. "And you didn't-"

"Miss Y/L/N," he mused. "Haven't you learned anything about me? Why on earth would I share this with the people out there?" You glared at your plate, a guilt coming upon you, much to Michael's chagrin. "Oh come now, you aren't going to go on a hunger strike on me, are you?"

"Why are you giving this to me?" You asked him.

"Because I invited you to dinner," he replied, boredom setting on his face. "I have some sense of decorum, you know."

"And you invited me to dinner," you repeated, reaching for your water. "Because there's more you want to know."

"Precisely," he said, his eyes tracking your movement. "Now that I know what you are, I'm interested in your exact nature." You scoffed at this as you sipped from your cup. What else was there to know? When you swallowed the water, you felt it immediately. Your insides screamed at you, causing you to fall out of your chair, throwing it all up on the floor, your few bites of dinner with it. As you coughed and sputtered, you saw Michael in your periphery, towering over you.

"Is the food not agreeing with you, angel?"

"What," you hacked. "What the hell is that?" Michael patiently tapped the outside of your glass.

"Why, holy water," he said plainly. "But that couldn't be it, could it? After all, you're an ang-" You shot your arm out and grabbed his ankle, holding on despite the pain shooting through your arm as a result. Hissing, Michael shook you off, stepping away from you.

Fucking bastard!" You spat. This is the first time you've ever come into contact with holy water. Gabriel would use it for his own rituals, but you never touched it. You should have known Michael had some kind of trick in store, the fucking-

"What's the problem?" He seethed. " You say you're an angel."

"I am!" You cried, watching as he began to circle around you, taunting you.

“But God didn’t create you, did he? You were made by one of his archangels, an act of rebellion that got you expelled from His Kingdom," you looked up, and saw the grin crossing his face. "It sounds familiar, doesn’t it? After all, what is the name we give to Lucifer's creations? You can't even stomach holy water…Are you sure you’re not a demon?”

You hated him. You hated him, you hated him, you hated him. You wanted nothing more than to grab his throat and tear it out. God, what was he doing to you?

"Why...are you…doing…this?" You choked out.

"I'm getting the measure of you," he sneered. "And so far, you're disappointing." You stumbled to your feet, taking his words in. Around you, the candles started flickering, just enough that the room twinkled.

"Pyromancy," he laughed. "Childsplay for adept witches. Even the little gray could do more than that. Show me something more!"

"Fuck...you…" Outside, a loud roll of thunder sounded, shaking the entire room. Michael looked up, ecstatic.

"There we are!" He exclaimed. "I knew there had to be something more. What else, angel, what else?"

You stumbled toward him, feeling the electricity coursing through your body, glowing out around you. You wanted to make him hurt so badly. Michael squared his stance toward you, ready.

"Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I certainly hope you don't think you can electrocute me to death." You stopped short. Of course not, you had to think. You looked at him again, before lunging at him. You grabbed his throat and forced him to look at your face. His eyes went wide, he clawed at your hands, but you were too strong.

"How about this then?" You said, before using your powers to open his mind to yours.

The first thing you noticed was how blue his memory was, so stark to his yellow lit form in the Outpost. You were in a bedroom. You felt cold, so very cold. In the doorway you saw an older woman, screaming at you. "Monster, monster!" You smiled as you shifted your own features to match hers. Michael gasped (more of a wheeze) at the sight of you. You tilted your head at him, inquisitive.

"Your grandmother, Langdon?" Only now, with him writhing under your hand, did you notice that his touch was barely a sting to you in this moment. Until Michael finally covered your face with his hand, and you screamed, releasing him.

You fell away from each other. You returned to your original form, panting, clutching at your face as the shock of his touch faded. Michael staggered to his feet, facing you. " Get out. "

"But Michael," you taunted. "I've shared so much with you tonight, and you have yet to do anything to impress me. "

"I won't ask you again," he spat. "Get out of here before I kill you." You didn't press the issue. Collecting yourself, you strode out, head held high.

"Goodnight, Langdon." You let the door slam shut behind you.

---

That night you dreamed not of Michael, but his grandmother. Her screams and hateful eyes followed you all throughout the night. You also saw glimpses of Mallory, raging at you and cursing your name. The memory of Michael's fear also floated before you, and you relished it, sick as it made you feel.

---

Chapter 5

[palebluewords]

Quid Pro Quo, Angel

Summary: A new revelation leads to yet another confrontation with Michael, and a chance for some common ground.

Part Three of Dead Weight: Part One, Part Two

A/N: Copy, paste, you know the drill ;)

The next morning, you chanced another conversation with Coco, who happily obliged you. As you tried to read a book across from her in the library, she was on top of you like a schoolgirl. Telling you all about how she needs a companion to substitute Gallant, who is still being such a drag . As she told you, you glanced at Gallant, who sure enough, was sitting all by his lonesome, again. You felt for him, you could only imagine how difficult Evie was to live with. And then for her to do what she did to him…

You noticed Timothy and Emily sitting together, more despondent today than their usual high-school couple act dictated. They seemed sapped of any energy, like they had seen a ghost. You nudged Coco. “What’s gotten into them?” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, who fucking knows?” she said dismissively. “Their whole ‘wasteland, baby’ thing is irritating as hell, I try to tune it out. Like, just say that you’re horny, we all are.” You chose not to comment on that.

“Where’s Mallory?” you asked her. She shrugged.

“Off in her interview with Langdon,” she said, before rolling her eyes. “Poor thing, she doesn’t stand a chance. She’s a complete dud.” Your heart quickened. So the interview was today? You remembered Mallory’s fear, and hoped she was alright. After all, you knew even better than she did how much hung in the balance with her interview. You looked around, trying to discern who still needed to see Michael, when you noticed someone conspicuously missing, making Gallant’s moodiness somewhat more ominous.

“Hey, where’s Evie?”

--

You made up an excuse and quickly left the library after learning the fate that befell Evie. Something about the story gave you an inkling about Michael’s purpose in the Outpost. It’s definitely not a coincidence that she would just drop dead after everything that happened between her and Gallant, something that happened in wake of Michael’s arrival. He must have killed her, or gotten Veneable to do it somehow.  Considering how he supposedly slept with Gallant, it wasn’t impossible. In fact, there’s no way he wasn’t involved, you were sure of it.

You were going to your room to be alone with your thoughts, and maybe brush back up on the angelic magic that Gabriel had taught you. At the moment you were feeling… a little underprepared. The fear was forming a pit in your stomach that told you needed to expend some energy. Maybe a little work in something as simple as divinity would ground you. Who knows, maybe you could divine what happened with Evie? You stepped into your room, but when you went to shut the door, someone else’s hand beat you to it, slamming it shut.

Michael flexed his hand over the doorknob, glaring at you. You jumped away as he stepped toward you. “Hello again, Miss Y/L/N.” He spoke with that usually playful lilt in his voice, but his face was completely expressionless.

You cocked your head at him, throwing up your defenses. “Langdon? What the fuck are you doing in here?!” You held your hands up in warning, but hoped to God you wouldn't have to use your powers.

“I think you know,” He was almost upon you, and your whole body started screaming in protest. It was nothing like when he unlaced your corset, as if everything you did to overcome his effect on you was for nothing. You threw out a hand in warning, and he stopped coming toward you, but didn’t drop his threatening stance. As he halted his approach, the pain in your body eased, but you still felt a nausea hanging over you as you engaged him.“Mallory the witch , I’m sure you know her?” He tilted his head at you.

Your heart skipped a beat. She gave herself away somehow. Oh God, what could this mean for Mallory, or the witches’ plan? You must have done a poor job of hiding your distress, as Michael saw it clear as day.

“Ah!” he raised his eyebrows, gloating. “You do! That’s perfect. I suppose she must be with you then?”

“I’m not telling you shit!” you spat at him. His eyes flashed dangerously.

“I’d be careful Y/N,” he warned. “I don’t like it when people toy with me, or don’t you remember our first meeting?”

Your screams from that day echoed in your mind, causing your defensive stance to falter. You shook your head, desperately trying to rid yourself of the pain coursing through your body. “Fine!” you cried. “Fine, what is it you want from me?”

“Well you see Miss Y/L/N,” He chanced another step toward you, and you took another step back. “I thought I’d wiped out the last of the witches when I had this world bombed to hell. Yet here’s one hiding right under my nose, and from the looks of it you’re quite familiar with her. Which tells me you must have been real buddy-buddy with some witches before coming here.”

“Your point?”

“My point being,” he said through gritted teeth. “That you may be working with old enemies of mine to undermine me. Would you deny you’re here to do just that?”

“Who says I’m here to undermine you?” you challenged. “Maybe I’m still trying to save you.” He scoffed, but you went on. “I’m glad you mentioned our first encounter, because you’re not gonna have that kind of luck with me again. I’m stronger than I was then, Michael Langdon, and you don’t want to see just what kind of fight I can put up.”

He smiled at you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say he seemed almost... excited by what you’ve said. He walked to the other side of your room, still maintaining a healthy distance from you, and said “My, Miss Y/L/N, you are just full of surprises.” With his back to you, he added. “So be it, we can drop the hostility for now.”

He dropped into one of the antique armchairs by the fireplace in your room, resting his chin on his fist. “So then, Y/N,” he said, an insincere smile on his face. “Is there anything else you might want to tell me?” Yeah, right. You lowered your hand, eyes narrowed.

“Yes,” you said. “I preferred your hair shorter.” He laughed mirthlessly.

“Now now, Y/N,” he leaned in closer. “I’m trying to be civil, like you want, but not if you’re going to be so militant. So, is there anything else I don’t know about what’s going on here?” Your heart quickened, but you covered for it by rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

“There are a great many things you don’t know, Michael Langdon,” you said. “But as for Mallory, no. My involvement with her here is pretty minimal.” This was the truth, Cordelia had made sure of that.

“Hmm,” Michael squinted at you. “ Not sure I believe you. But I suppose that it won’t matter in the long run. I can handle the witch. What I really want to know more about now is you .” You blinked.

“Me?”

“But of course,” he mused, and then, expression darkening; “You walked out of your interview. I would like to finish where we left off.” You looked at him. You had to be careful with Michael, as he was clearly past the point of playing cat-and-mouse. But, you couldn’t let him keep the upper hand, not after all the work you’d put in to reach this point.. Feigning poise, you walked over to the edge of your bed and sat down.

“Fine,” you said. “But this won’t be like your interviews with others.”

“Obviously not,” he said.

“What I mean is,” you went on. “It won’t be so one sided. I have some questions of my own.”

“And you think I’ll answer them?”

“If you want me to answer yours,” you cocked an eyebrow. “Trust me when I say that getting into your little sanctuary is a low priority for me.” You leaned back, propping up on your hands. “So I want a little more tit-for-tat.”

“You’re so curious about me?” he asked, smiling. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

“So you agree to my terms?”

He considered you for a moment. “I suppose,” he said. “After all, what harm could it do? At the end of the day, I can just leave you here.” You grimaced at that. “Is this the part where I say ‘ladies first’?”

“If you insist,” you said. “Let’s start with a softball question. Did you kill Evie?” Immediately, he started laughing.

“I let you ask me whatever you want,” he said. “And you choose to start with that?”

“It’s a fair question,” you tapped your fingers on the mattress impatiently. “The first purple to die since we got here, then you arrive, and under some pretty mysterious circumstances, she’s dead. Now, everyone knows she’s dead, but no one will say what exactly happened. One might say they don’t know themselves. So, did you do it?” Michael looked at you with a lazy smile, half-squinting at you. It wasn’t his usual smirk that he put on to make you squirm. This smile was an easy one, you didn’t like it much more. You flicked your eyes to your feet and back to him, to see that he’d lost interest in you. He leaned back in his seat, back to his usual cool demeanor.

“No,” he finally answered you. “I didn’t kill dear Evie.” Then, with a tilt of his head; “would you like to know who did?” Your eyes widened. So Evie was murdered. But if it wasn’t Michael, then who in this Outpost could it have possibly been?

“Who?”

“It’s my turn now,” Michael said. You balled your fists. This didn’t go unnoticed by Michael, who found it greatly amusing. “Rules are rules, Miss Y/L/N, and unlike you, I have some very important questions I want answered.”

You glared at him. “Fine then, go on.”

“What in the hell are you?” Then, “pardon the expression.”

“What do you mean?” you asked him, staring at him dumbly.

“Come now Miss Y/L/N,” he droned, bored. “There’s no need for this. I know you’re not a human, and you’re certainly not a witch.”

“Says who?” you gave him a coy smile. “I knew about Mallory, didn’t I?”

“You’re not like any witch I’ve encountered,” he said calmly. “I need only grab your hand to prove it.” The very threat of his touch sent a chill down your spine. You straightened your posture, trying to conceal your reaction.

“Well then,” you said. “Maybe I’m the newest Supreme. It would explain my aversion to whatever you are, wouldn’t it?”

“And what am I?” he stopped himself. “No, don’t answer that. You still owe me the answer to my first question.” He smiled at you, tilting his head. “But…you know, don’t you?” You grimaced. “You do. Oh my, my, my, you do! What a relief, one more pretense we can drop.” He scooted the chair closer to you. “And if you know I’m the Antichrist, then you’re more than a human, and I still refuse to believe you're a witch. So then, Miss Y/L/N, out with it!” Your shoulders slumped. You were caught, and all too easily. There was no point in lying, he’d know.

“Would you believe it,” you said softly, staring at the ground. “If I told you I was an angel from Heaven?” Silence. You sat there several moments, waiting for him to say something, anything, but nothing came. Finally, you looked up to find him staring at you, his expression hard and blank. You bristled under the weight of his gaze. Still, he stared at you.

“You’re not how I had imagined angels to be,” he finally said.

“Well,” you replied. “I’m of a different make.”

“How intriguing,” he said. “I’ll have to ask you more about that . But alas, it’s your turn.”

“Right,” you said, voice shaky. “Well…who killed Evie?”

“Tsk tsk,” tutted Michael. “Really, still with this, Miss Y/L/N? Very well, Gallant did it.” You gasped.

“No!” you exclaimed. “Gallant woul- you had something to do with it, didn’t you?”

“My turn again,” he said. “You said you were of a different make, explain that to me.” You cursed yourself, wringing your hands.

“It’s a bit difficult to explain,” you began. “The best way I can put it is… I wasn’t made by… God , as it were…” This got his attention, he leaned over in his seat.

“Well, then I suppose I need not be so star-struck by you. But if not God, then who?”

“I think I’ve answered your question,” you said. You thought about your next question. There was no point in revisiting Gallant and Evie now, it was clear he would answer you on that bit by bit just to waste your time. Besides, you could reason for yourself that he influenced Gallant somehow, whether by magic or other means. You would have to be satisfied with what he’s told you for now. “The end times, as we live them. Did the Cooperative help you bring that about?” Michael leaned back, enjoying the strong front you were presenting him.

“Oh, who says that I brought this about?”

“Please Michael,” you laughed, forgetting yourself. You saw him stiffen, but you didn’t know why. “When we first met I knew you were headed in that direction. You’re the Antichrist. So, did they help you?”

A pause. “They did,” he said. Then, to your surprise, he expanded on his answer. “The Cooperative is, in fact, a collection of the world’s most powerful people, who had all sold their souls to the Devil in order to get to where they are. They felt a little obligated to bend to my will.” He clasped his hands together. “Now who, or what, made you?”

“Another angel,” you answered. Then, you added “Gabriel. You met him once.” If Michael was opening up more, maybe returning the favor would get more information out of him. You watched his eyebrows knit in confusion before he finally remembered.

“The angel in the forest,” he chuckled. “And here I thought I had been hallucinating. If that was another one of your attempts to win me over, I’m sorry to say that now it looks a little half-assed. I mean, look at the lengths you went to.” You grimaced, you reached again for Gallant, now that Michael seemed willing to share more.

“How did you get Gallant to kill his own grandmother?” Michael sighed, smiling idly at you.

“It was easy, really,” he said. “I simply put the screws to him. I knew he hated her, I just had to get him riled up.” You dared not speak, not wanting to forfeit your turn. “So, I conjured an illusion, and made him believe we slept together. Then I denied him, and then tricked him into believing Evie was me with the same illusion.” He watched your expression for a reaction, but you gave him none. Disappointed, he returned the conversation to you. “So you’re not like other angels, which may explain a few things. What does God think of you, you who are not even of His divine Creation?”

“He…” you started. “He doesn’t approve. I know that much.” You crossed your arms. “He cast us out.” Michael’s eyes sharpened.

“My,” he said. “You just keep getting more and more interesting. I suppose it’s your turn now.” He’s openly giving now, you noted.

“Why did you do it?” you asked him, then went on to avoid more push-and-pull from him. “Why did you end the world?” Michael hummed.

“Just boredom I suppose,” he said. “And I figured that as the son of Lucifer, it was probably something I ought to do.”

“You mean you weren’t sure?”

“That’s two questions now Miss Y/L/N,” he chided. “Now tell me, if you know, why is it that we have such an adverse reaction to each other?”

“I don’t know…” you began. “I think though… that it’s because we’re diametrically opposed. Angel and Antichrist.”

“You think,” he repeated. “Well, your friend didn’t have any such effect on me, brief as our encounter was. Though you did say you were a different kind.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” you said.

“And I believe you,” he said. “Your next question?” You stared at him.

“Gabriel told me very little about you before you were found by the Satanists,” you told him. “I’m genuinely curious what your childhood was like. Did you always know you were what you were?”

“No,” Michael said, breaking eye contact. “In fact, I was raised by my grandmother.” No elaboration, and no question to follow yours. He stared into the fire, as if he saw something in it that you didn’t. Without warning, he stood up. “Well, I think I’m satisfied for now, but don’t think we’re finished here, angel.” You ignored the nickname.

“But-!” You started. “What do we do now? You know what I am.”

“Yes,” he said. “And still there’s much to be discovered. But, all in due time.” He strode to the door. “Goodnight, Miss Y/L/N.” With that, he was gone. You finally relaxed, but you couldn’t settle the uneasy feeling that hung over you. Almost everything was out on the table now, you can’t fathom why he hasn’t tried to kill you yet. Unless this is a trick, and he’s going to catch you by surprise? You stood up and waved your hands above your head, muttering protection spells to sanctify your room. If nothing else, it’ll rid what remained of his presence there.

White lights emitted from your body and sank into the walls and floors of your bedroom. God willing, they’d keep Michael at bay if he decided to return and eliminate you from his grand scheme.

You sat up in your bed for hours after that, waiting for him to strike. He never did. Finally, you couldn’t fight your weariness any longer, and you succumbed to sleep. For the first time in a long time, you slept without any nightmares. You rested long and well, and when you awoke the next morning, you found a note neatly placed at your bedside.

“Come to my room for dinner, I have more I want to ask you. -M.”

---

Chapter 4

[palebluewords]

Getting to Know You

Summary: The time has come for your interview with Langdon, are you prepared to face him a second time?

Part Two to Dead Weight (Part One Here).

A/N: Still doing the ole copy-and-paste from AO3, but do let me know your thoughts on the story! All feedback is appreciated, especially as I plot out the rest!

“My name is Langdon and I represent the Cooperative,” you took one quick look at him before averting your eyes to the floor. He looked nothing like the scared little boy you’d met just a few years ago. He no longer wore those tattered clothes you first found him in, but fine red clothing that emphasized his status above the purples and the greys. His short, curly hair was now long and straight, maturing him. And his eyes, those terrible eyes, were highlighted by red eyeshadow. He looked like a completely different person from the boy who had almost murdered you, he was much more reserved and controlled. This version frightened you more. Your skin grew hot and you knew it was the symptomatic of the sickness his presence would bring you. You could only hope that that was the extent of the effect now. He paced around the lot of you, arms tied behind his back as he continued.

“I won’t sugarcoat the situation, humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here was crucial to the survival of life on earth. The other outposts have been overrun and destroyed. We are assuming they’ve all been eliminated.” We… you wonder who else might be working with him, if he’s to be believed.

“What happened to the people inside?” one of the other purples asked.

“ Massacred, ” the tone of his voice made you look up at him, and you saw a hint of childlike glee in his eyes. “The same fate that will befall almost all of you.” Mallory perked up from her spot by the door.

“ Almost all?”

Michael answered without missing a beat. “Knowing this could happen, we built a failsafe. The Sanctuary. It has security measures that prevent it from overrun. The sanctuary will survive, so people populating it will survive, therefore that means humanity will survive.”

“Who’s populating it?” Gallant asked him.

“That’s classified,” Langdon said sharply. Then he announced that he would be interviewing every individual in the outpost to determine their worthiness to be brought with him to salvation. As the room burst with questions and protestations, your heart stilled. Would he recognize you then, if he hasn’t already? Moments later, Langdon began his conclusion. You saw his feet stop in front of you.

“I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you,” Michael said. You looked up and met his gaze. He leveled you with a cold stare, his eyes holding no recognition, or anything for that matter. For all you knew, you were an insect to him, just like the others. Michael quit the room, and everyone fell into chatter about what this meant for them all. You weren’t listening, your ears filled with white noise. Every hair on your body stood up as you ran back to your bedroom to hide. Dammit, you weren’t ready . Despite the training you did with Gabriel, Langdon’s presence still activated a strange feeling in you that made your skin crawl. At least you didn’t faint this time , whatever good that was.

That night you had another round of nightmares of his fiery eyes.

-

For three days you managed to avoid any run-ins with Michael. He seemed to enjoy stalking around the Outpost between interviews, watching you all squirm in his presence, but he made no moves toward any of you. You tried to distract yourself with the others whenever he was around, but it was a futile attempt to calm yourself. As you pretended to listen to the dronings of the likes of Coco and Gallant, you could feel his stare burning into the back of your neck. Finally, it was your time to be interviewed.

A timid gray knocked on your door one day to inform you of your meeting, and you, wracked with fear, begged them to accompany you all the way to Michael’s office. Maybe it was pity, or some lingering memories of how you tried to help the grays in the past, but they agreed, and walked you into Michael’s office. It would be the first time you would interact with Michael in the waking world, you realized as you entered.

“Mr.Langdon,” the gray squeaked. “Miss Y/L/N is here for her interview.” Langdon was standing in front of the fireplace, his back to you. He looked at you over his shoulder, waving the gray away, which they gladly obeyed. You were alone. His movements were slow as he turned to fully face you.

“Ms.Y/L/N, please have a seat,” you don’t think twice before scampering to the nearest chair. He walked over to his desk, standing over the file folder on top of it. For a moment, he only looked at you, but you weren’t sure if he was really just looking. It felt as though he was already trying to catch you in a lie before you had even said anything. You cleared your throat.

“So, um, what happens here?” you asked him. Michael smirked at you.

“Now Miss Y/L/N,” he said. “We get to know each other.”  With that, he launched into his spiel. “I’m not going to tell you what criteria I'm using to grade you. Things you may feel are helpful may be hurtful, things you may think compel rejection may be just what I am looking for. If you lie, I will know. If you try to trick me, I will know and this interview will be over and you will die here,” he tilted his head at you, leaning his hands on top of the desk. “Are we clear?” He said all this in a way that led you to believe that he’d said this speech a million times already. It almost amused you.

You looked in his eyes, and felt just the tiniest prickling sensation under your skin. You nodded, and he smiled. “Good.” He walked to the other side of the desk to sit down. “I understand that you’re here because of your DNA tests?” He clasped his hands in front of him as he awaited your answer.

“Yes,” you sat with a straightened spine, trying not to seem as vulnerable as you felt. “I had a friend whose family had this like, genetic disorder. You know, hereditary type of thing. He was scared to get tested alone, so I tested with him.” You lied through your teeth, praying that your angelic powers would cloud his perception.

“Judging from the information I have about your tests…” He ran a finger over the file on the desk. “He must have been predisposed to about thirteen different diseases,” he quirked an eyebrow. Of course, Gabriel had you test multiple times to make sure you got on the Cooperative’s radar. You should have known that would come up.

“Well, he had a pretty messed up family.” He grinned at you, making you want nothing more than to get up and leave. But that wasn’t part of the plan.

“You’ve been stuck here for quite some time,” he observed. “Seeing the same people every day, eating the same food…” The word food hung in the air like a joke awaiting a response, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

“It’s been tough, the monotony of it all,” you admitted. “But I have to believe that things will get better if I wait it out, you know?”

“Painfully optimistic.”

“I have no choice,” you told him.

“And what if I decided to leave you here to die?” he challenged.

“Then…I’d have to make a new plan.” He leaned back in his chair.

“You must consider yourself quite versatile,” he remarked.

“Not really,” you said. “I just see the situation for what it is. You take me or you don’t, either way the world outside stays the same, and it’s that world that I care about at the end of the day.” He grinned at you.

“A bleeding heart,” he commented. “You’re certainly more generous than your fellow survivors, wouldn’t you say?” He was baiting you into speaking badly of the others, that much was obvious. You weren’t biting.

“These are hard times,” you said with a shrug. “I can’t blame them for how they cope with everything.”

“My, Miss Y/L/N,” he mused. “I can’t seem to get a negative comment out of you about anything.” He mocked you, thinly veiling his annoyance. You had to fight back a smile, smug that you were getting under his skin, even if just a little bit. He rose from his chair and began to walk toward you, making you nervous.

“Is that what the interviews are for Mi-ister  Langdon?” your nails dug into your palms. You’d almost called him Michael out of habit. “Getting us to throw each other under the bus?” If he noticed your slip-up, he didn’t notice it.

“I hardly need the bitching of those outside this room to make up my mind about who goes to the sanctuary,” Langdon paced behind you. “My goal here is to find out more about you , yet you seem resistant about telling me anything.”

“What is there to tell?” you asked. “Right now we’re only making small talk.” You heard his pacing halt, and your breath hitched. Perhaps you were starting to have a bit too much fun.

“Alright then,” he said. “Straight to the point, then.” Suddenly, his voice was coming from right behind you. “Your medical tests yielded some rather fascinating results. You were in absolute perfect condition. Yet your records had no history of vaccinations, or any history at all, for that matter. You read like an anti-vaxxer’s wet dream.”

You were careful not to address the vaccinations, as there was no way around accounting for their absence, so you let the anti-vaxxer comment lie. “So?” you asked. “I was lucky to go through life physically unscathed. I don’t see how that could be a negative.”

“Maybe something is missing from your examinations,” Langdon was standing just to the right of you now. “Stand up, and take off your dress.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his. He was no longer smiling. “Absolutely not.”

“Don’t flatter yourself about my intentions,” he said dismissively. “This process also requires a physical examination. After all, you might be hiding some life threatening ailment right now. What if I selected you and you dropped dead on the trip over? That would be a waste of energy on my end, wouldn’t you agree?”

At that, Cordelia’s words swam through your head “ we can’t have any dead weight in play here ”, making you grip the arm of your chair tighter. You felt Langdon’s hand lightly grab the back of the chair. You quickly wiped  away the memory.

“Alright then,” you said, rising from your chair. You stood face to face with Langdon, holding up your arms so that your elbows were at your waist. “Be my guest.”

His eyes flashed. He had not been expecting that, it seems. But of course, he quickly recovered, looking at you with his usual half smile. He walked behind you and began to undress you. First went your jacket, then he made short work of the lacing on your corset. Now your back was exposed. You thought you heard him gasp, but you couldn’t be sure. What’s his game here?

Then you felt it. His finger brushed up your back slowly, it felt like a hundred tiny knives stabbing into you. You shivered, hoping to God that you didn’t give yourself away. By the way he quickly retracted his hand, you know he felt it too. At least the effect you touch still had an effect on him, too. One small degree of protection. You suddenly felt the fabric of his shirt press against your back.

“What are you?” he whispered into your ear. You tilted your head ever so slightly toward his.

“A survivor,” you uttered softly. “Just like everyone else here.” You craned your neck and saw that he was staring intently at you. His hands clamped down on your shoulders, and you felt a pain shoot down your arms. You were too stunned to yelp. He turned you towards him, a lock of hair falling in front of his face. Your back arched and you writhed in pain in his grip.

“We both know that isn’t true,” his eyes were wide now, desperately imploring you. He wasn’t angry, only pleading. His face was inches away from yours, you could see fear in his eyes. Seeing him like this, you were reminded briefly of the boy that you had met in a dream years ago. Your heart panged at the memory, how lost he had been then, only to become more lost than ever. Part of you wanted to drop the act and offer him salvation all over again. Tell him that he was saved now and there was still time to right his wrongs, if he would just take your hand like before.

And then you remembered what happened that first time he took your hand, the screaming and the knives and the fire. You pushed yourself away from him, eyes cold. “I don’t think I understand you, Mr.Langdon.” Your eyes fell to your jacket, thrown on top of his desk. You grabbed it and hugged it to your chest, your corset still loose around your torso, you made for the door.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Michael called. “Our interview isn’t over yet.” You turned to him, a fierceness you hadn’t known in a long time coming upon you.

“I’m afraid it is, Mr.Langdon,” you said with deadly finality. “Good night.” You went through the door and let it fall shut behind you.

You stormed down the hallway, desperate to get back to your room. You were so riled up you didn’t even notice Miss Veneable until you almost took her out running into her.

“Apologies, Miss Veneable,” you mumbled, mind still swimming. She glared at you, and was about to make some biting remark when she took in your appearance. Right, your corset was still loosely hanging off your torso, your jacket clutched to your chest the only thing holding it in place. Her eyes widened at you, and panic overtook you at the implications of the run-in. “Don’t tell me Langdon hasn’t done physical inspections of everyone else.” Your tone was indignant as you spoke. At this, she recollected herself.

“Of course he has,” she spat. “But you may consider fixing yourself before wandering the halls like that.”

“But of course, Veneable,” you said in a bored tone. “I’m headed toward my room to do just that.” You breezed past her. You heard her huff from behind you, but barely registered it. You were done with everything for today.

When you finally made it to your bedroom, you locked the door behind you and collapsed onto the bed. You didn’t realize until you were laid down how weak your legs felt, you might have buckled if you didn’t get there soon enough. You sat up, replaying the interview with Michael in your head, unsure of what to do next.

He knows you’re not what you’re pretending to be, that much is for sure. Whether he recognized who or what you were, was another matter. Your hand reached toward your back, remembering the prickling sensation of his touch. There was also the matter of if you had just made an enemy of him… You shook your head. You already tried allying with him a long time ago, it was out of your hands if he still wanted to fight you now.

Still , you thought. There was the matter of going undetected. It was such a stupid plan. Not knowing what Michael’s endgame beyond the apocalypse was, Gabriel threw you into this outpost with the hopes you’d just figure out how to undermine him and reverse the damage he’s done. You sighed, wondering why God didn’t kick the man out of His Kingdom sooner. If you were any indication, he was a lost cause when it came to thinking ahead.

--

Your eyes open slowly, startled by the blinding light of the workroom. You looked down and saw a man hunched over in front of you, sewing your legs onto your body, muttering under his breath. You looked around the room and saw needles and threads and all sorts of sewing supplies, all thrown around haphazardly. Someone must have been in a hurry.

You look back down at the man and clear your throat. His eyes shot up in surprise.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed, and then laughed to himself at his word choice. “You startled me, I thought someone...it doesn’t matter.” Hastily, he returned to his handiwork. You returned to your look about the room.

“Who are you?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“I…” he said, trying to remain focused on the task at hand. “Am...Gabe - erm, Gabriel, officially. I’m an angel.”

“Angel,” you repeated slowly. It felt like a word you should know, but you couldn’t make any connections. You blinked, you supposed it would come to you later. “Is this your workshop?”

Gabriel laughed, but you couldn’t see what was so funny about what you said. “No, no it’s not mine,” Gabriel said. “It belongs to the big man.” He looks up and sees your confusion. “Don’t worry, it will all come to you in a bit...I think.”

“Oh…” your eyes fluttered, still bothered by the lights. You started to feel sleepy. My, how long have you been alive, just a few minutes? As you drifted off, you barely willowed out the words “Are you not supposed to be here…?” The last thing you heard was Gabriel’s nervous laugh.

---

Before, you’d thought all of Gabriel’s improvisations were brilliant, when really they were just desperate. And now you were the one locked in a bunker with the Antichrist, what sense did that make?

You jumped at the sound of knocking on your door. Your heart raced, praying it wasn’t Michael coming to finish what he started, or worse, Veneable coming to hammer home her lectures of decorum and respect. Quickly, you threw on your jacket and hugged your arms to your stomach to keep your corset up. “Coming!”

You opened the door only a crack, and were surprised to find Mallory standing on the other side. She looked at you with her big, brown eyes and you could see that she was on edge. You were caught off guard, as you mostly stayed out of Mallory and Coco’s way so as not to interfere with their mission, so you weren’t sure why Mallory wanted to speak to you. “Oh hey, Mallory,” you said casually. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” her eyes darted past you, silently requesting entry. After a moment’s hesitation, you nodded, opening the door more widely to allow her access.

“I’m sorry I’m a bit indisposed at the moment,” you told her, gesturing to the state of your corset. Mallory looked at it in alarm.

“Did Langdon…?”

“No!” you interjected. “Well yes , but not like you’re thinking. He said it was part of some physical examination, but I think he just wanted to see if he could psyche me out.” Mallory nodded in understanding.

“I can relace it then,” she offered. “I should probably have an excuse if Veneable or Mead come looking for me.” You nodded and uttered a soft “thank you” before sitting down at the edge of your bed. You shrugged your jacket off and let Mallory get to work on the corset.

“So Mallory,” you said, gathering your hair over your shoulder so that’s out of Mallory’s way. “You wanted to talk to me.” Mallory wisely took her time with the lacing, deliberately drawing out the process.

“I still haven’t interviewed with Langdon,” she said. “I wanted to ask Coco about how it would go, but…” You understood. Coco is a bitch , you thought. You tried not to think so poorly of her, knowing that that wasn’t who she truly was, but God was it difficult. The girl was like the stereotypical mean girl of some half-baked TV show without the memories of her coven.

“So you wanted to ask me what to expect?” you asked. You felt the bottom of the corset tighten.

“Yes,” Mallory breathed. You sighed. You couldn’t help Mallory, only because Michael would know about it, somehow. Besides, what use was it to help Mallory impress him if she was eventually going to help stop him?

“Look Mallory,” you started. “I would tell you everything, but then Langdon would know you got help, which wouldn’t end well for you. But I will tell you not to try to lie to him when answering his questions. Just give him the honest truth, but be careful about giving him more than that, you know what I mean.”

A moment’s silence. “Yes.” You could tell Mallory was disappointed that your advice was basically worthless, but it was all you could offer her. There were so many things you couldn’t tell her, and not just about the interview, about everything. But you couldn’t fuck up her mission like Cordelia thought you would. You had to stay out of the way as you figured out what to do about Michael, and that meant lying to Mallory’s face every time you spoke to her.

“But you definitely shouldn’t be afraid of him,” you chanced one risky comment. You looked over your shoulder and saw her staring incredulously at you. Chuckling, you looked forward again. “I mean it. I know you’re supposed to blend into the background as a grey, but I see you, Mallory. You’ve put up with more than any of the Purples in here,” Mallory was midway up your corset by now, completely silent. “And you survived the nuclear apocalypse, for God’s sake. Pile Coco’s shit on top of all of that, you’re a warrior compared to everyone else here. And Langdon isn’t any different from the Purples, with all his glitz and glam.” A total lie, but one that suited the moment. “So don’t let him get to you.”

Alright, you may have been stirring the pot here, but you couldn’t handle Mallory playing the role of the doormat any longer. She was the next Supreme, afterall. Something had to give eventually, even if it was just not letting Michael fuck with her the way he wanted to. Besides, you would have liked to see how he would take it. You shook off the thought. God, you were starting to think more like Gabriel now. You felt Mallory finish up your corset and retract her hands from you, and turned to face her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful to you.”

“It’s fine,” Mallory said, not meeting your gaze. “I’m just glad I got someone to talk to me. Everyone else around here either has a stick up their ass or their own head.” You smiled at that. “I wish we could talk more. But with Coco and Veneable…”

“I understand,” you said, touching her arm. “But we should talk more, when we get the chance.” She looked at you, and for the first time since you arrived at the Outpost, you saw a glimmer of the real Mallory bubble to the surface. The Mallory who was warm and open, instead of withdrawn and put upon.

“I’d like that,” she smiled as she said, then after a moment remembered where she was. “I should go now though. Before Veneable looks for me.” She started toward the door.

“I understand,” you said. “And Mallory,” she looked back at you. “You’ll be fine.” She nodded once at you before walking out. Now completely alone, you thought about what time it must be. You’d spent most the day in your room before finding out about the interview, but it couldn’t have been that late already. Six o’ clock at the very latest, in which case, which meant dinner was probably set out. Still, you felt weary. You rubbed your eyes and forced yourself out of your bedroom, deciding to go be with the other purples for now.

---

As it happened, you had just missed a very eventful dinner. You entered the library to find everyone in a tense silence, with Gallant seemingly at the center of it all, sitting by himself in a dejected state. You saw Coco checking out her nails and scurried over to her, careful not to get so close that she would tell you to buzz off.

“What’s gotten into the rabble?” you asked, attempting to be conversational. Her eyes flicked up to you, unimpressed. Thankfully, she was feeling generous that day.

“Good to see you’re still alive,” she said. “Gallant got down with Langdon last night. Evie saw them and ratted on him to try and guarantee her spot in the Sanctuary. Veneable punished him, and Gallant and Evie fought about it over dinner, so naturally the mood’s kind of down right now.” She looks at you again. “I’m surprised you hadn’t heard about it.” Seeing that she was in a good temperament, you took the seat next to her.

“I was busy in my own interview with Langdon,” you told her. At this, her interest in you peaked, as her mouth parted and she leaned closer to you to whisper. As if to make it even more conspiratorial, she clasped her hands over yours.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “How was it?” Then, before you could answer, she went on. “I’m pretty sure I sealed my spot when I had mine. I mean, talking to Langdon, I could tell there was something going on between us, you know? And he clearly has gotten like, super lonely in this nuclear winter if he went for Gallant. Now that that’s out of his system, I can make my move.”

“You like him?” you asked her. Maybe it was the harsh lighting of the Outpost, or the him-nailing-you-to-a-tree-and-burning-you-alive of it all, but you failed to see the appeal. Coco gave you an incredulous look.

“Uh, yeah ,” she said. “Whatever, more for me anyways. Do you think you’re getting to the Sanctuary?” You grimaced, definitely not . Given how things ended with Langdon, you would be lucky to live to see the day Michael abandoned you here with the other rejected candidates. Coco saw your doubt, and in an uncharacteristic act of charity , said; “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure you’re in.” Surprised by the compliment(?), you looked at her, but she was already back to staring at her nails.

“You think so?” you asked her. She shrugged.

“Well, young people are the future, aren’t they?” she said matter-of-factly. “And we need to repopulate the earth, and didn’t you get in here because of your DNA? If that’s not what’s being taken into account in those interviews, then what else could there be?” You stared at Coco, mouth agape. Without knowing you, she had just led you back to an important question whose answer had been eluding you.

What was Michael looking for here? You sank back into your seat, sitting in silence with Coco until you retired to bed later on, still worrying over what that man was up to.

---

You’d been here before. A blood red sky and black gnarling trees. You were knee deep in mud, your heart was pounding. Overhead you heard a hawk screech, but when you looked up, you couldn’t find a single one in sight. The wind picked up, blowing your hair in all different directions. You stumbled around, trying to find somewhere to take cover. After ducking behind a tree, you saw firm land up ahead, and staggered towards it. Thunder rumbled above you, and you were soon drenched in rain.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the clearing. For some reason, when you tried to hoist yourself onto the grass, your legs turned into lead. You had to crawl up on your elbows at a snail's pace, groaning in frustration all the way. When you were finally out of the mud, you keeled over in exhaustion, panting heavily. That’s when you felt it.

It was just a small pit in your stomach, but it told you everything you needed to know. You snapped your head upward, trying to see where he might be coming from. You wouldn’t let him catch you this time, this time you would get away. It turned out Michael had no intention of coming near you.

Your eyes landed on him a good fifteen feet away from you. He looked different than the rest of the dreams, now he had his long hair, drenched as it was in the rain. He was breathing heavily, as well, but he wasn’t nearly as haggard as you were. No, he had a wolfish grin on his face as he stared down at you, as though you were his next meal. His eyes had a mad gleam as he inclined his head toward you.

Nothing else happened between the two of you as you stared at each other, for the message was clear. The game was on.

---

Chapter 3

[palebluewords]

Dead Weight: The End Times

Summary: You are an angel who has had the misfortune of a violent encounter with Michael Langdon. Still feeling the burn of his magic on you, you join forces with Cordelia's coven to bring him down. But then the apocalypse hits, and you find yourself at Outpost 3. Will you be prepared to face Michael again, and right the fate of humanity?

A/N: Helloooo! This is a wip I've posted to ao3 under the handle awayiwillfly that I'm currently transferring to this new blog. It's a slow burn enemies to lovers! Hope you enjoy it! (literally doing this transfer to avoid facing my current writer's block ahahaha)

The sun was beginning to set, and no attention was paid to the flaming girl sitting in the last booth of the diner. Well, flaming was an exaggeration. The flames died out days ago, now there was only smoke. She stared ahead with empty eyes, with nothing to drink or eat. She was covered head to toe in soot, her hair stood up and sizzled, and her nails were filthy. Just as no one took notice of her, she didn’t seem to take notice of the world around her. She didn’t even so much as turn her head when two women, one blonde-haired and one red, dressed all in black, approached her table. The blonde woman touched her hand to the table.

“Are these seats taken?” You stared out the window.

“Nope, go right ahead.” The two women shared a look before sitting down before you.

“I’m Cordelia Goode,” the woman began. “And this is my friend Myrtle Snow.”

“I know who you are,” you said. “You’re the Supreme. I could sense your magic coming my way from eight blocks down.”

“And we know who you are, dear,” the other woman, Myrtle mused. “Or what , at least.” A waitress came over to the table. She had a beautiful smile and a sunny disposition. You read the name ‘BETTY’ on her nametag, plastered over a square drawn in the shape of the establishment’s road sign.

“Hello there!” she greeted, flashing a nearly blinding smile. “I’m Betty, and I’ll be taking care of you girls today, can I start you off with some drinks?”

“Just water for me, thanks,” Cordelia said with a polite smile. Betty quickly jotted it down.

“Got it,” she said before looking at Myrtle. “And you?”

“I’ll have a pink lemonade,” Myrtle said, she turned back to you. “Will you be having anything?”

“Coffee.”

“And a coffee, if you don’t mind.” Perplexed, Betty wrote down her order.

“Alright…” she read over the order. “I’ve got a water, lemonade and a coffee, I’ll be right back.” She hurried away, and Myrtle focused back on you.

“Is it common for fallen angels to be invisible to humans?” she inquired with genuine curiosity. For the first time, you made eye contact, and your face broke into half a smile.

“Only to those we don’t want to be seen by,” you straightened. “And I’m not fallen , per se. Just…” you rubbed a thumb over the soot on your hand. “A little wounded.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Cordelia said. “Your friend came to us and told us what Langdon did to you.” You stiffened at the mention of his name, clenching your hands together tightly enough for your nails to dig into your skin.

Your body screamed at you to move, but with the knives pinning your arms and legs to the front of the tree, you didn’t dare. Tears flowed from your eyes as you looked at your attacker, who looked at you with death in his eyes.

“Please,” you begged. “You don’t have to do this.” He smirked at you, tilting his head.

“I know.”

And with that, you were engulfed in flames.

“When did Gabe come to you?” you asked the two of them. “I’ve been so in shock, I couldn’t tell the time.” Cordelia looked at you with pity.

“He came to us yesterday,” she said. “But he told us it took you three days to come to.”

“Right,” you laughed bitterly. “Three days. This,” you gestured to your still sizzling body. “Is what still remains after three showers. You can’t imagine how I must have looked when he first saw me.”

“It’s a miracle you’re still here,” Myrtle remarked. “I thought hellfire was deadly to an angel.”

“Well,” you said. “I’m not like the angels from the Book.”

“Which is why we need your help,” Cordelia said. “Michael is still out there, and we know he’s planning something. Something terrible.”

“You mean the end times?”

“Here are your drinks!” Betty returned to the table and set Cordelia’s water in front of her, gave Myrtle her lemonade, and then, with a little uncertainty, also set your coffee in front of her. “Will you girls be having anything to eat?” Myrtle eyed you.

“Scrambled eggs and bacon,” you said.

“Just some scrambled eggs with bacon, please,” Myrtle smiled. Betty nodded and wrote it down, before telling them that their order would be out soon. She quit your table and again the attention was back on you.

“Do you have a plan?” you asked them, grabbing your coffee and taking a sip from it.

“We have one in the works,” Cordelia explained. “A witch with amazing power, our next Supreme.” She leaned over the table. “Nothing is set in stone yet, but we think it’d be in everyone’s best interests for us to join forces.” You tilted your head. “If we can bring angels to our side, we may stand a better chance against him.”

“Gabe did tell me you could help,” you mumbled. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“We have a school in New Orleans,” she said. “For witches. We can take you there and help you heal from your injuries, and you can stay there with us to help us prepare for the end times.”

“And you really think you can stop the Apocalypse?” you asked.

“I think your best chance is with us.” Betty came back around and set your eggs in front of Myrtle. She left again, and there was a beat of silence.

“This witch you mentioned,” you said suddenly. “She’s really as powerful as you say?” Cordelia smiled.

“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” she said, a proud smile on her face. You thought about it for a moment.

“Alright,” you finally said, smirking. “Let’s go to war with the Antichrist.” Myrtle smiled and pushed your food in front of you. As you eagerly dug into your meal, the two women shared another look, this time with high hopes for their plans going forward.

-

You had been staying at Robichaux for only a couple of weeks and already you were nearly restored to your former self. The witches performed healing rituals on you that healed your burns and knife wounds completely and helped you completely remove the remaining traces of the fire. Myrtle commented on how refreshing it was to see your true face, without the layers of soot and grime.

You met the next Supreme, Mallory, and you could see what Cordelia was talking about. You could sense the power that resided in her, so much of it still untapped. You hoped that she could unlock the rest of her powers in time to face Michael. The other witches were also kind to you, Zoe and Queenie invited you to their classes, and always tried to include you as if you were one of their own. Madison even had lent you some clothes to wear when you first arrived, which from the surprised looks of the others, you took as a rare gesture. You assimilated quite easily among the witches, but you still felt uneasy. The burns were gone, but you still felt them in your dreams, and the man who gave this trauma was still out there, and planned to wreak more havoc. Without a proper plan in place yet, you were afraid of him coming to claim his revenge on the coven, and finding you with them. Such concerns are what brought you to Cordelia and Myrtle one day in a frantic daze.

“I have to leave,” you told them, sitting in one of the room’s loveseats. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done, but I’m out of my element here-”

“Y/N dear,” Myrtle interrupted. “What’s happened that you must leave us now? You’ve been doing so well here.”

“Nothing’s happened exactly,” you stammered. “It’s Michael… I know he hates you because of what happened with that…cultist woman. It’s only a matter of time before he comes for you all, and finds me here. I don’t think I’m prepared to face him again.”

“Oh Y/N,” Cordelia smiled reassuringly. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Don’t I?” You asked her. “I mean, it’s not like we keep a low profile here. He’s probably planned it all out by now, and is just waiting for the right moment. I’m no match against him, and given what happened the last time-”

“Y/N,” she said your name again, touching your arm as a comforting gesture. “Do you know what Zoe and Queenie are teaching the others downstairs right now?” You nodded, eyes still wide from your outburst. “They’re reinforcing the aura shields around the manor. These shields act as a protection against any that would wish us harm.” You relaxed somewhat, but still doubt lingered.

“So how protected are we?” you asked her.

“Extremely,” she said. “With those shields, any human, demon or other will find it impossible to step through our front door.”

And with almost perfect timing, screams rang out from downstairs, followed by gunshots. You jumped as the door swung open to reveal Mallory, the color completely drained from her face, Madison and Coco helping her. “He’s here.”

You stood up, and suddenly you felt it. His presence, somewhere beneath you, laying waste to the coven. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and your stomach wrenched. You thought you might vomit. You heard shouting, and someone saying your name, but you were too far gone. Your knees buckled beneath as you tumbled to the floor, which only added to the panic around you.

-

You woke up in the swamp hideout hours later to shouting and crying. You blinked as you saw Myrtle go between Madison and Cordelia and talk them down from fighting. Cordelia was shouting, and Madison crying. Cordelia took notice of you, and suddenly seemed to forget about Madison. She turned on you, furious.

“And what about you ?” she accused. “Neither you or your fucker friend told us that the son of bitch could erase souls !” Your eyes widened in shock. Is that what became of all the girls left at the coven? Your stomach lurched at the thought.

“I had no idea,” you stammered. “I swear I didn’t know! Gabriel must not have known either, or he would have told us-”

“If you don’t know anything, then what are you good for?” she spat, closing in on you. “You’re still nothing more than that roasted piece of shit we brought home with us! You promised to help-” She is stopped by Myrtle, who pulls her away from you.

“We can’t turn on each other now,” she said. “None of this will bring back our girls. They’re gone, dear.” At this Cordelia broke down sobbing.

“No, ” she fell into Myrtle’s arms. “No please. There must be something we can do!” Her words came out as choked sobs as Myrtle patted her back, like a mother comforting her child.

“Maybe there is,” Myrtle said. You sat up from the chair you were placed in.

“What happened ?” your voice was weak and hollow, Coco immediately came to your side.

“Hey, honey,” she said with a sad smile. “A lot’s happened while you were out.” While Cordelia and Myrtle took Mallory into the bathroom and Madison ran into one of the bedrooms sobbing, Coco filled you in on the death of the Coven, Cordelia trying to get the girls back, and Madison’s omission of Michael’s ability to erase souls.

“Y/N,” she said with an earnest look on her face. “I know you’re still messed up from having him near, but I need to know; what else don’t we know about him? Don’t the angels have books on preparing for the Antichrist or something?” Tears stung your eyes, both from the loss of the coven and from the stress of the situation.

“I’m not that kind of angel,” you told her. “We’re just as in the dark about Michael as you are. We didn’t even know where he was until he ended up with that cult. We have nothing .” You cried, you couldn’t help it. You were in over your head, you were the least fit to have a hand in stopping the Apocalypse, you weren’t like the other angels, who had been good at this for millenia .

“Hey, hey! It’s okay,” Coco hugged you as you cried in her arms. You bawled like a baby. Cordelia and Myrtle came to you because they thought you could help , but really you were powerless. You could barely conjure a simple illusion, let alone fight the Antichrist. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Coco jumped and you looked at her with a confused expression.

“Is there anyone else that knows about this place?” you asked her. Before she could answer, Madison reentered the room.

“No one that should be here right now,” her expression darkened as she approached the door. Slowly, you got up to follow behind her, Coco in tow. There came no additional knock. Madison pressed her ear against the door to listen for the intruders.

“Do you hear anything?” Coco asked, and was immediately shushed. Madison looked at you, and you could see the fear in her eyes. You reached for the doorknob, and it felt unusually warm. The warmth came from magic, a magic you knew too well. It was  safe.

“I know who it is,” you said to them. “We’re not in any danger.” The two gave you incredulous looks, but you held your ground. Madison moved away and you opened the door to your friend on the other side. He stood with his hands at his sides, but you could see them twitching from nervousness. His eyes widened at the sight of you.

“Gabriel .” You said breathlessly. He gave you a relieved smile.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You waited outside with the others while Myrtle and Cordelia talked to Gabriel inside. Mallory had a towel draped around her shoulders, still drying off from the bathtub experiment with her powers. While the younger witches spoke to each other in hushed voices you listened through the door to the conversation being had inside.

“She doesn’t fit into our plans at this point,” Coredelia’s tone was short. “You promised me someone with abilities that could combat Michael’s, but I haven’t seen anything of the sort.” She took a deep breath and began again in a more understanding tone. “If her powers were affected by what Michael did to her, I understand, we could have helped with that. But circumstances being what they are, we no longer have the time or resources for training her. As it is, she’s dead weight to us.”

“She’s not dead weight,” Gabriel’s tone was calm, but you could detect a hint of annoyance that hid beneath the easy coolness. “She’s still recuperating, sure, but believe me when I say that we know what we’re doing by putting her in the game.”

“Do you?” Myrtle inquired. “She mentioned how young she was compared to the rest of you. Why not send one of the more experienced angels to take on the Antichrist?”

“Because she’s from a different make, and when the time is right, she will deliver on our promise to bring him down.”

“Different make ,” Cordelia scoffed. “She fainted the second he showed up at our doors!” Chills went up your spine at the mention of his effect on you, and brought you back to what he’d done to you when you first met.

-

“In his dreams? ” you asked Gabe. “I’ve never done anything like that before, why can’t I just approach him, in real life?” You sat in your bed as he paced through your room.

“Because he’s constantly surrounded by those black robed heretics,” Gabe answered in a bored tone, beginning to look through your records. “This is your only way to get him alone, to convince him without anyone else whispering in his ear. You shook your head, but shrugged your shoulders in surrender.

“Fine,” you said. “So how does this go? Do I mutter an incantation or something?”

“Leave the incantation to me,” he said, coming to sit by your side. “I just need you to lay down as if you’re going to sleep, and I will get you to where you need to be.”

You nodded. Then, after taking a deep breath, you laid down on your back and shut your eyes. Gabe hovered a hand above your body.

“Pater noster, qui es in caelis…” he began.

You knew the scene without having ever seen it. Gabe told you about it after he had finally located Michael. He  was reliving the worst day of his life, the day his caretaker was burned at the stake. He tore through the forest in a daze. You weren’t sure what the woods looked like at the time, but you could tell Michael’s memory had twisted it into something far more ominous. The sky was blood red, and every tree was black and gnarled and twisting over him. The ground was muddy. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess, his clothes dirty. He would whirl around at random points, as though in fear he was being followed. Not entirely paranoia.

“God loves you,” you heard Gabe’s disembodied voice reverberate through the memory. The boy shouted and fell to his knees. He covered his ears and tried to drown out his surroundings by screaming.

“ Stop it, STOP!” he held on to the last word, his screech tearing through the wood and sky.

Now was the time.

You placed your hand on one of the trees, returning the color to its original brown. You stepped towards Michael, each step causing grass to grow from the mud. Restoring the good to nature, just as you were to do to him, You looked up at the trees, watching as they twisted away from him, letting the now blue sky to shine on him. He was now only crying quietly, his hands falling to the ground before him. You called out to him. “It’s not too late, Michael.”

He paused, and looked up at you.

So it’s true, you thought to yourself. He was beautiful. His eyes were a brilliant bright blue, even brighter with the redness around his eyes. He gasped at the sight of you. You stood over him, letting him have the chance to speak first.

“Who are you?” his voice wavered, he was like a child. Perhaps that’s really all he was. After all, you... You quickly dispelled the thought as you knelt before him.

“Someone who wants to help you,” you told him. He looked at you, mouth agape. This poor boy was clearly and utterly lost. Your heart ached for him. “If you’ll let me.” Tears flowed freely from his eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” you gave him a sad smile.

“There’s nothing you have to do,” you assured him. You looked toward the sky, eyes lost in its expansiveness. “You thought there was a path laid out that you had to follow, and denied yourself your own free will.” He broke eye contact with you, wiping furiously at his tears. He knew this, of course he knew. But what else could he do? He had nothing left, nothing but the task at hand, terrible as it was. “I know you’re frightened, but I also know you’re strong. You can stop this if you try.” He looked back at you

“I want to,” he whispered, and you knew he meant it. “I want to try.” At this, you gave him a full grin.

“Then you will,” you held your hand out to him, offering salvation. He looked into your eyes for a moment longer, before taking your hand.

You screamed before he did. You stumbled back as the burning sensation went from your arm to your whole body, the impact knocking you to the ground. The agony coiled through you like a snake. You looked at Michael, who shouted out in pain, holding his arm to his chest. He stared at his hand in horror, before fixing a deadly gaze on you.

"What are you, ” he gritted out. All the ground you’d tread with him was gone, and in you he saw an enemy.

“I-I’m only here to help!” you repeated your mission statement, but it was no use. Michael got to his feet, and whipped his hand toward you in one fluid movement. Suddenly, you were no longer on the ground. You yelped as you found yourself levitating. You flew backward what felt like a thousand feet before you collided with the base one of the trees with a booming thump . You wailed in pain as he moved you in the small space between the tree and its neighbor. He conjured knives and flung them into your hands, suspending you above the ground. Your screams echoed through the sky and earth as Michael stole toward you.

Your body screamed at you to move, but with the knives pinning your hands to the tree, you didn’t dare. Tears flowed from your eyes as you looked at your attacker, who looked at you with death in his eyes. Your panicked eyes flicked to his hand, which he had raised to deliver the finishing blow.

“Please,” you begged. “You don’t have to do this.” He smirked at you.

“I know.” And with that, you were engulfed in flames.

You awoke back in your bedroom, still aflame. Gabriel shouted your name and it took several incantations to put you out. You laid still, unanswering as he assured you that everything would be okay, and then you were out.

“So his demonic presence overwhelms her,” Gabriel said. “I’ll train her to overcome that.” You moved away from the door, not wanting to hear any more. You sat down with the others, who have now fallen into an uneasy silence, the deaths of their sisters weighing heavily upon them. The feeling of loss among them was so tangible you could taste it on your tongue. Eventually, the door opened, and Gabriel walked out alone.

“Say goodbye to your friends, Y/N,” he said coolly. “It’s time for us to go.” You and your friends looked at each other with surprise. Your heart sinking, you hugged them all goodbye, and fell into step with Gabriel.  Before you exited, you heard another voice.

“Y/N,” you turned and saw Coredelia, watching you leave. Here you noticed the red around her eyes, and the grief weighing heavily upon her. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier, and that we have to part way here.”

“It’s alright,” you replied, head bowed.

“Good luck out there,” she said. “At this point, that’s all we can ask for.” With that, Gabriel nudged you gently out the door. You walked in the dark in silence for a few minutes, but eventually you had to know what else was said between your two mentors.

“So we’re out then,” you said to him, your tone neutral, a careful disguise of your hurt and disappointment. You hadn’t known Coredelia long, but you didn’t expect her to toss you to the side like that. Gabriel looked at you, eyebrows raised.

“Now, what gave you that idea Y/N?” your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“We’re leaving,” you said. “And Cordelia said just back there I wasn’t showing the potential we promised.” Gabriel smirked at you, and you paled as you realized your mistake.

“Eavesdropping, were we Y/N?” he did not chastise you, but focused again in the direction he was walking. “It’s true, Cordelia doesn’t think you have what it takes, but I  reminded her that we would all stand a better chance if we had as many people fighting him as possible. So she kindly let us in on some of her plans.” He balled his fists, and suddenly you were no longer wandering a dark swamp but the well lit streets of Los Angeles.

The two of you found yourselves a cafe and sat outside with some hot chocolate and brownies. Gabriel, ever the sweet tooth, dove greedily into his snack, you stared impatiently at him as he ate it. He met your eyes, and nodded.

“Right,” he said, pushing his plate away from himself. “So Langdon has Outposts built for his followers in the apocalypse, and your friend Coco Vanderbilt has the money to buy her and Mallory’s way in. Cordelia is going to wipe their memories so Michael can’t sniff out their real purpose being there. Cordelia doesn’t have any role for you in her plan, but she did tell us about this so we could have the chance to formulate a plan of our own.”

“And have we?” you asked him.

“Most assuredly,” he gave you a shiteating grin. “The Outposts, in addition to letting in the wealthy, gives out free passes to people with a specific, perfect DNA. And it’s guaranteed yours will check out, because of well...you know.”

My perfect, heavenly genes, you thought dryly. “So how much time do we have to prepare?” You took a sip from your mug as you awaited your answer.

“I can’t really say,” he sighed. “A few years at most, probably.”

Perfect. Heavenly.

-

And so, three years came and went. Three years where you refined your abilities, and you were stronger than before. You were better at using your magic to manipulate the world around you. You were even getting the hang of shapeshifting, somewhat. The more classical angelic abilities, such as wings and teleportation, eluded you though. At home you mostly used magic for convenience. Opening doors, summoning ingredients and cooking utensils for the recipes you cooked… typical, mundane magic.

However, when out of the house you took advantage of your ability to perform some heavenly miracles. Nothing too big, of course. Just things like a crying child being reunited with the stuffed animal that their mother thought they’d lost at the park, a drunk girl suddenly regaining the sobriety to track down her friends at a club, and a man double-checking his pockets to find that he had enough money for that coffee and muffin that he wanted, after all. Well, there was also the matter of you using your powers to stop a pedestrian from getting hit by a semi-truck, but that was only one time. Performing these deeds made you feel good, but you also felt guilty. All these people were going to die when the day of reckoning came, and what you were doing meant precious little if you weren’t going to be able to prevent that.

Still, you couldn’t help but reason that you could at least make some of their remaining days a little easier, and that you would ultimately be able to save them all. You hoped to God that you could save them, but…it’s unclear if your hopes matter much to Him.

Gabriel took you to get tested for a litany of diseases at a highly ranked hospital for the sole purpose of “getting you in the system”. It was such a meticulous, harebrained plan that a part of you didn’t think it would even work. But to your surprise, it did. When the news announced the nuclear oblivion headed your way, men in suits came to collect you right on schedule.

You felt when the world ended in a different way from the other survivors. It was as if your soul had died as you felt billions of lives be snuffed out, you had to plug your ears to block out the sensation. It only sort of did the trick. The experience had left you weakened and distraught when you arrived at the Outpost, which did not impress the matron, Ms.Venable. She sneered at your grief before she gave you the rundown of the workings of the Outpost. You were uncomfortable being handed the standard purple attire. Had you known that people would be forced to work under you, you would have chosen to be a Gray, you thought. It would have been the angelic thing to do. And God, what was the point of creating an aristocracy in a nuclear wasteland?

When she introduced you to Ms.Mead, you felt odd, like that was a name you’d heard before. But, you couldn’t make a connection, and were soon distracted by everything else around you. Such as the other survivors.

You hid your disappointment well when Coco and Mallory didn’t recognize you, and maintained a healthy distance once Coco made it clear they would have nothing to do with you, you having failed some secret test when you approached them. You were friendly with Emily and Timothy, though they were too involved with each other most of the time to spend any real time with you. And you found everyone else too self-involved to carry on a conversation with.

The next eighteen months were lonely, indeed. You butt heads with Ms.Venable over the treatment of Greys frequently. You said to her on multiple occasions that it's immoral for all the Purples to stand to the side as the very people who keep their safehouse running are treated like dirt. Venable informed you in no uncertain terms that she wasn't inclined to change anything, or put up with your badgering any longer. The other Purples, content in their cushier positions, failed to support you.

So you attempted to rebel quietly, helping a Grey whenever there wasn't anyone watching with chores. Eventually, it was Mallory who approached you to ask you to stop this, telling you that you were putting them in a difficult position that could get them in trouble with Veneable. You were so embarrassed by your tunnel-vision that all you could do was nod your understanding and scamper off.

The worst part of living in the Outpost was the nightmares. It was as if something about the place triggered your subconscious into dreams of running away from Michael, who would always be just a few steps behind you. A prominent image in these dreams was his blue eyes glaring from beneath his short blonde curls, grinning down as he closed in on you. Lately they'd grown worse, more vivid. Now when Michael cornered you, you could actually feel his hand roughly gripping your chin as he forced you to face him. Over time, his eyes grew more wild, more intent, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant he was closing in on you in the waking world.

The dreams made you feel terrible, like disaster was just around the corner. One particular morning you woke up in tears after yet another new development in the dream. This time when you were captured, you struggled against Michael, trying to pull yourself away, which only made him grasp tighter. Crying, you craned your neck away, and felt his breath on your cheek as he whispered two words.

“Got you”.

It really wasn’t as bad as the rest of the dreams, but it shook you to your core all the same to hear his voice in it.

Still reeling from the nightmare, you decided later that day that you’d stay up that night. You joined the other Purples in their usual daily moping. It was clear that everyone was reaching their breaking point. They were all restless, more so than usual, who knew what would happen if this went on for any longer? This observation led you to believe that change was, in fact, on the horizon, ready to catch you all off guard. This, along with your dream, was why you were only half surprised when the siren sounded to signal a breach and everyone shared a look of concern. All your suspicions were confirmed when you felt a small, but palpable wave of nausea overtake you.

Michael was here, and it was time to face him.

---

Chapter 2

[palebluewords]

hey all, just created this blog and am going to be moving all the currently published chapters of my fic Dead Weight to here, so apologies in advance for flooding the tag!!