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.”
