(A/N: Another day, another chapter! :) It's time to see what plans Bree made with Harry and the plans Negan has in store for Bree!

Dearest reviewers...

An Amber Pen: Harry's just a teddybear! :D ...And a drug addict! Lol, no he really is a sweet guy, deep, deep, deeep down! :)

umbrella0326:
Aw, you're always giving me awesome feedback! I'm glad that you like how I'm writing Negan. He's really easy for me to write for some reason! And you're absolutely right-I haven't put a really concise description of Negan down so I apologize! I'll go back in and add one into Ch. 3, when Bree first meets him! :) Haha, yesss, Butch and Negan are about to find out exactly what's going down...

Ch. 6: Negan – Wedding Party

"A freakin' party? You've got to be freakin' kiddin' me."

When Butch tells me that there's some kind of party going on in the basement of the factory, I've got to admit—I don't believe him. Sure, I like a good party every now and then. Who doesn't? Booze, pretty women, drugs, music: my favorite things. Sometimes I'll even round up all of my beautiful wives and have them put on a show for the guys. It relieves a little stress, puts everybody at ease.

But the folks around here are a bunch of deadbeats—they wouldn't know a party if it swung and hit them in the face. All they do is scurry around like freakin' field mice, wondering where the heck their next meal is going to be, barely lifting their heads to talk to one another.

Butch, the old boy, is as stoic-faced as he's ever going to get. Brown-skinned, wide shouldered, and as big as a freakin' boulder, Butch is the type of henchman I like having at my side.

"I kid ya not, Leader," he replies.

I consider his words while running my fingers through Amber's beautiful, glossy hair. She's still sound asleep on our bed. She's been asleep for a long time, actually. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she popped a few sleeping pills.

"There's music and everything down there," Butch tosses in.

"Music!" I jump up from my seat now, a big grin on my face. I straighten out my black biker jacket and run a hand down my stubbly chin. "Now that's something I've got to see. Take me to it."

Butch obliges. I follow him out of the room after blowing a kiss to Amber. We walk down the dilapidated corridors. Rats and roaches scurry past our feet in droves. The sorry suckers don't even have the decency to keep to the darkest shadows. They slither over rocks and our shoes like they own the place.

"By the way," I grunt while flicking some dust off of Lucille's prickly form. "Did you ever find Baby? I need to ask her something."

Baby is the nickname I gave to little Bree. Dirty Dancing is a freakin' awesome flick and guess who Bree reminds me of? The little sweet-faced Baby, that's who. Intelligent in books and complete idiots when it comes to anything else, but cute as h #$: that's Baby and Bree in a nutshell.

Anyway, the plan is simple: Bree Evans is about to become wife numero diez. I've got nothing big planned. There's no need for a ceremony, or flowers, or the ring, or the sappy confessions. Remember: I've been through this crap nine times already.

It's more of a business deal, ya see. I bring the intended woman to my room and lay out what I'm offering in exchange for her to become my wife. The girls get 24-hour protection from the brain-eaters, the best quarters in the factory, and free stuff. Who doesn't like free stuff?

If they don't agree, the alternative is to join the freakin' rat race with the rest of this place.

See? I don't just take the girls. That's a big no-no in my book. My women have every right to decline my offer. It'll just be total hell on earth for them if they do.

Butch and I round a corner and start heading down a flight of stairs. Our heavy boots slap out a beat against the gray steps.

Tap, tap, tap, tap...

"Oh-ho, you are gonna love this, man," Butch chortles. "She was with Harry."

"The electronics dude?" I ask incredulously. "This is gonna be good. Don't tell me Baby went back for round two with the drug-head, did she?" I laugh. "That would be an interesting fight to see, wouldn't it?"

Butch gives a shrug. "Didn't look like they were fighting. She was chasing after him like a puppy, actually. They were talking up a storm in some little alleyway when I found them."

I wave off his suggestive tone. "The girl probably wanted some more gadgets. You know how kids are with their phones and ! #$. Rotting their minds away and all that stuff…. Hey." I pause my descent down the stairs and lift up ahand. Butch stops and looks over his shoulder at me. I lift one finger in the air and twirl it around in circles.

"Listen to that music," I chuckle. "Looks like you were right. Somebody is throwing a party." I give a false pout. "Can you believe that we didn't get invites? Guess we're just going to have to crash the darn thing."

A grin spreads across my face as we make our way towards the basement.

-o-o-o-

"Well, put me on a spit and roast my #$!"

Butch and I stride halfway into the room, grinning at the ethereal scene before us. We stop on the outskirts of the dancefloor and simply look on in amazement. I fold my beefy arms over my chest and laugh.

Just look at my people, my low-down, good-for-nothing people, partying like they're at Mardi Gras in freaking New Orleans. Even old people are moving like they're young again. And whoever put on this little shindig is smart, too. The music is loud, but not quite loud enough to draw in the dead. I could barely hear it from one floor up.

After a few more minutes of watching, I decide it's time to break it up. I cup my hands around my mouth to form a makeshift megaphone and shout above all of the noise, "HEY, FOLKS! How's the party going?"

A hushed silence, save for the music, takes command of the basement. The dancing stops almost immediately. People shuffle from foot to foot and glance nervously at one another. The thumping bass from the boombox continues on without its dancing followers.

I step through the stunned crowd with Butch behind me, still chuckling to myself. "Come onnn! Why'd you stop dancing? Don't let me spoil the fun!" I drawl.

Suddenly, someone steps into my path. I look down and take in the 5 foot form of Baby. Instead of the fearful look I expect to find on her face, she looks like she's about to burst with excitement. Her brown eyes are twinkling and she can't seem to be able to stand still.

"Do you like it?" she asks with a bright grin. She gestures around at the different things used to create the party atmosphere. A pair of battery-operated strobe light boxes send streaks of green, purple, and blue light everywhere. Streamers hang from the ceiling and some people were even hitting a freakin' beach ball around. The red and white plastic inflatable is rolling around forgotten now.

The giant black boombox pouring out house music is situated in the back of the room, atop a foldout chair. Tables loaded down with refreshments organized in colorful arrangements are pushed to the sides of the room.

Bree looks back at me, still brimming with excitement. "This place is always so… dreary. I wanted to do something to see people smile again."

It clicks. The music, the excited eyes, the cerulean MP3 player dangling beside the boombox…

"Awwww," I coo, punctuating with a chuckle. I tilt my head and smile at her. "You set this up, Baby?"

It's almost too cute. Lucille was really itching to smash someone's head in for disturbing the peace of the Sanctuary, but she wouldn't want to hurt such a cute face, now would she?

Bree nods and gestures at Harry, who has come up to stand beside her. He winces and looks at the ground when my eyes move over to take in his ugly form.

The dude looks like a reject from American Horror Story. Gaunt rat face, dirty orange-yellow strands of hair hanging from the bottom of his pale, sore-ridden face, and eyes that look as hollow as the inside of a dead tree. He resembles one of the Meat Puppets more than a human being.

Drugs are bad, kids.

Harry sniffs and stares at the ground, too much of a coward to actually meet my gaze as I observe him.

"Harry did a lot of the work, too," Bree says with a bright grin. Her grin shifts into a smug smirk and she nudges Harry in the side with her elbow. "He's alright, when he wants to be."

I can't help but to notice the small smile Harry sends in the direction of Baby. Now, I'm not a jealous man, by any means, but something really irks me about seeing Harry look at her like that.

I guffaw and slap a hard hand down on Harry's shoulder. He flinches but manages to make subtle eye contact with me.

I wink at the shivering man. "Nicely done, Spongebob Wetpants," I croon. I give him another slap on the shoulder that causes him to stumble backwards. Bree catches the frail man's arm before he can fall. I laugh again and wave my arms around the room at the rest of the people. They're still frozen like the statues of Narnia.

"What happened to the party? Carry on, people! Raise the roof, dust the floor, do whatever the heck your generation brought to the dancefloor and left to die."

After a while, people do start dancing again. Harry hurries away and gets lost in the crowd and some pretty little filly catches Butch's eye. He darts after her, leaving me alone with Bree.

The party continues on around us but I stay focused on the young woman in front of me. I take notice of her outfit now: a black V-neck shirt paired with a rose-colored cami, jean shorts over a pair of long, brown legs, and a headband made out of plastic white and pink flowers nestled atop her black, curly hair. D #$, she's adorable.

She wrings her small hands in front of her before looking up at me with hopeful eyes. "So," she draws the word out like she's blowing a bubble with gum. "Do you…. like it?"

I scratch at my chin and pretend to mull it over. "What would you do if I said no?"

I'm unable to keep a straight face when her jaw drops.

"I'd be a little mad, since I did this for you!"

This catches me by surprise. I stop twirling Lucille and let her hang at my side. I observe the fidgeting, shy girl in a new light.

"For me, you say?" I chuckle off to the side and then lean a bit closer to her. My voice is volumes lower when I ask my next question. "Why would you do something like this for widdle ol' Negan, huh?"

Bree's neck starts to darken. The excited look shifts to nervous embarrassment. She grabs at her arm and shrugs. "I…. Well, I wanted to say thank you. You brought me here and saved my life, so…. I wanted to do something for your community. To say thanks." She chews at her bottom lip as she awaits my response. Her mouth is pushed over to one side and her eyes keep jumping from my face to the floor.

I'm a little stunned at first, to be honest, but I recover quickly. I take Bree's chin in my free hand and draw her lips against mine in one quick movement. I cover her soft lips with my own in a kiss. She tastes exactly like I imagined she would, like the sweet candy she's always eating and fruit-flavored gum. I'm not surprised when she doesn't really respond to my kiss. She looks as inexperienced in this stuff as a newborn is to walking.

I pull away and savor the shocked blush that has flooded over her entire face. Eyes as wide as her mouth, Bree tries to utter out something, but I think I made her mouth stop functioning. I smirk at her and kiss her again before she can speak, claiming her lips a little longer this time. She never does relax, the poor thing. She stays as stiff as cardboard. I smile when I draw away this time, but keep my face close enough so that our noses are still touching. I can feel her soft breath against my face. She looks up at me, eyelids fluttering from... Shock? Infatuation? Likely the latter.

"I love it, Baby," I tell the reeling girl. Then, I decide to just go ahead and pop the question. You only live once, right?

"Will you marry me?"

If I were one of those really smart, intellectual types, I'd say that the face Bree Evans makes at this moment would be described as "shocked". Or "utterly astonished". Something big, like that.

"What…?" Her brows dig together towards the bridge of her nose and she tries to laugh. She shakes her head, trying to come out of the daze the kiss put her in. "Wh-What are you talking about, Negan?"

"You and me, girl," I sing while lightly tapping my index finger against my heart and then her collarbone. I bring my finger up to her chin, forcing her to look me in the eyes. "Let's do this. Be one of my wives."

She's still frowning up until the moment she realizes that I'm being serious. Then, her eyebrows raise higher and higher until I think they might climb right off of her forehead and disappear.

"You're…" She blinks. "You're being serious?"

I nod. "I wouldn't kid around about this, kiddo. Marriage is still a big deal to me, you know."

Bree suddenly pulls away from me and the blush that rose to her cheeks when I kissed her vanishes. She shakes her head.

"Negan, that's crazy." She spits out a laugh. "I'm only twenty. I barely know you, to be honest, so even that kiss was out of line. But, I'm flattered—"

"I'll give you time," I cut in with a tight smile. Okay, she may be cute but this chick is pushing my buttons. The leader of one of the last safe places on Earth gives you the chance to be his wife and you don't immediately accept? Maybe she's not as bright as I thought she was. The obvious answer to my question would be a "yes".

Bree tilts her head some. She looks concerned. "No, Negan. I don't need time—"

"Listen, Baby." I grab Bree's shoulders and jerk her to me so that she's certain to hear every word that's about to leave my mouth. The younger woman tries to lean away from me, as if she's scared. Hell, maybe she should be. I don't take rejection well.

"If you don't accept this, your life is going to turn into a living nightmare. The only reason you're living so cushy right now is because of me. I tell those vendors to pamper your skinny a&# with food and clothes and everything a girl could ask for. I could make that stop. I could make sure that you have to struggle to get every crumb you're ever going to shove into your mouth. You know the only thing a girl like you has to offer the vendors around here? Your body. Now, maybe you should stop acting like a little girl and think like a woman. I'm your best bet at survival here."

Bree blinks but doesn't say a word. Her face seems to be frozen in that wide-eyed, horrified expression it's had for the past five minutes. I'll admit, it must be a lot for a girl to take in.

I hug the small girl to me, wrapping my arms around her body, and get a good whiff of her hair.

Strawberries. I exhale and then pull away from her. I give her a happy grin and a slap on the back.

"But hey! Don't feel pressured into anything, Baby. It's your choice. I'll come looking for you later to get your answer."

I release her. She stumbles away from me and nearly hits the ground but just manages to stay upright.

I give her a wink. "Great party, by the way. Enjoy yourself."

I turn and leave her then, still feeling her soft lips against mine. It's been a long time since I made a girl blush like that. Almost puts a skip in my step. The girl can't deny that she likes me. Her answer will be yes. The answer is always yes.

But, there's another woman on my mind now. Amber hasn't been acting like herself lately. Maybe a party is just the thing to perk her up.

"Amber-baby!" I sing as I burst into our room. "Daddy's h—"

The greeting dies on my lips. Everything inside of me, every last little molecule that makes me up, comes falling apart as I take in the sight of Amber, my most precious wife, wrapped up in the arms of another man—her ex-husband, Mark.

CR: Uh-oh. Things are definitely about to get real, you guys. Stay tuned for the next chapter, in which Sanctuary officially becomes a nightmare.

See you then! ;)