Despite its peaceful, idyllic appearance, beneath the veneer of tranquility, the Hilltop Colony saw its fair share of turmoil. There was more to running a community than feeding the livestock or keeping the dead at bay. It took a strong leader to keep the squabbling masses in line, to offer a firm, guiding hand – someone with conviction, charisma, and sheer will. Someone with the fortitude to make the harsh but necessary choices.
Where would society be without the ruling class? What was a hive without its queen?
And yes, certain privileges were to be expected, but they paled in comparison to the sacrifices made along the way – the burdens of responsibility that weighed on a leader's shoulders.
Gregory knew that burden better than anyone, even if none of them truly appreciated it.
Those ingrates! The crops, the walls, the mansion… none of it would still be standing if it wasn't for his leadership, his connections, his vision. Who was it who was most trusted by the Saviors? Who kept the place from burning to the ground? Gregory. It was always Gregory, pulling strings from behind the scenes while they whispered and conspired against him.
And now this – this betrayal. Someone had gone and whisked off that tall fella the moment Gregory's back was turned, leaving him to face the consequences. Typical.
"Gone?" Simon echoed, his breath rattling unevenly.
"N-not gone, per se…" Gregory stammered, searching for a way out of this mess. "He's simply… uh, not here."
Simon's mouth twitched. Disconcertingly, he was still smiling. His head tilted ever so slightly as he took another step closer, the sourness of his breath hitting Gregory like a wave. "Let me get this straight," he purred, his voice dangerously low, "the guy I'm looking for, the one you promised me –" He paused to cough harshly into his fist.
Was it merely Gregory's nerves, or did Simon's face seem unusually flushed?
"–simply got up and left?" Simon continued a moment later, dripping with menace. "I'm disappointed in you, Gregory. I really am. Here I thought you and I had an understanding."
Pulse quickening, Gregory scrambled to diffuse the situation. "We do, Simon, of course we do! This is all a big misunderstanding. He hasn't left the Hilltop, I'm sure of it. He's here, just not… Here. In this room… right now…" he finished lamely.
Simon's expression didn't change, except for the vein thrumming in his forehead. "Is that so?" he growled. "Because, Gregory, what I'm hearing is–"
Simon stopped mid-sentence to cough into his fist, violently so. His entire body shuddered with each labored breath as the coughing fit dragged on and on, long enough for the other Saviors to glance at one another, as if silently debating who among them would be brave enough to thump their leader on the back. Gregory stood frozen, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified by the interruption.
"You alright, boss?" a bald, muscle-bound Savior hesitantly asked.
And then, in the midst of Simon's hacking fit, came an unmistakable sound: a drawn-out, thunderous burst of flatulence. The noise echoed through the room.
The stench hit soon after.
The other Saviors held their tongues, mouths pressed tightly to rein in their laughter. Their gazes darted about the room, careful not to make eye contact with one another.
Simon straightened slowly, spittle hanging from the corner of his mouth. And then, incredibly, a slow smile began to spread across his sweaty, blotchy face. "Wowza," he exclaimed, snickering, "I did NOT see that coming."
Gregory allowed himself a nervous chuckle. "Better out than in, am I right?"
Simon bared his teeth, grinning broadly. "Well, Gregory, it seems like you and I are both in deep shit right now."
Gregory's chuckle died on his lips. "Ah, w-well, I'm sure we could–"
"Shut the fuck up," Simon snapped, no longer grinning. He surged forward, so close that Gregory struggled not to dry-heave at the overpowering stench of excrement wafting off him.
"Here's what's going to happen next," Simon growled, "you're going to go and gather up your people for me. Every single one, from the grannies to the babies, and even the good folks out there picking wheat, or whatever it is you people do. I want to see them all in the courtyard as fast as you can move them."
He patted Gregory's shoulder condescendingly, rough enough to make Gregory flinch. "And then, after you're done rounding up all these fine, hard-working people, you're going to pick five of them out from the crowd. And, Gregory, I'm not going to sugarcoat it: these people are most probably going to die. You're going to pick them out right then and there." Simon's eyes gleamed with twisted enjoyment as he leaned in, adding in a theatrical whisper, "I want them to know it was you."
For a moment, Gregory stood there frozen. "I can pick anyone?" he asked, stomach churning.
"To your heart's desire," Simon purred, his blotchy skin flushed with sick delight.
Hands trembling ever so slightly, Gregory inclined his head in understanding. This was what the call of leadership demanded – making tough choices in the face of impossible circumstances. Once more, the responsibility of safeguarding the Hilltop's future rested squarely on his shoulders.
"I'll see it through," Gregory promised gravely.
"I knew I could count on you." Simon smirked, thumping Gregory on the back as he made his way toward the exit, his gait slightly off-kilter. Just as he was about to cross the threshold, he paused.
"Bathroom?" he asked casually.
Gregory, momentarily frozen, snapped back to attention. "Oh! Ah, just down the hall and to your left. Can't miss it."
Simon clicked his tongue and threw Gregory a pair of finger guns before strolling out of the room, an off putting stench lingering in his wake.
A man in a dark overcoat stood in the middle of the crossroads. His figure contrasted sharply with the dusty, barren road. He stared into the distance, unbothered by the rifle holding him in its sights.
"What'cha think?" Maggie asked, shifting uncomfortably in the Wrangler's driver's seat. Her discomfort had little to do with the stranger down the road – her lower back was simply killing her.
Sasha gave a little hum. "He's too clean," she concluded, peering through the scope of her rifle, her upper body hanging halfway out of the passenger-side window. "Clearly, it's a trap."
Maggie sighed and rubbed the small of her back, considering their options. The crossroads was a desolate place. Weeds and wild grasses sprouted from the cracked asphalt, slowly reclaiming the road inch by inch. On one corner stood a dilapidated gas station, the headless remains of some poor soul slumped by the trashed convenience store. Signs declaring OUT OF GAS, EMPTY HERE, and COME AT ME PRICKS flapped loosely in the occasional gust of wind.
Nobody ever came this way. That was the reason she'd picked this specific route and the dang roller coaster of a vehicle. The massive sinkhole they'd passed a few miles back made folks nervous, she reckoned.
This man didn't look nervous. In fact, he seemed utterly indifferent to Maggie and Sasha's presence.
It made her uneasy. Growing up, her daddy had always warned her about crossroads. "Watch out for shady characters," he'd say as he kissed her goodnight, his beard tickling her forehead. "Never trust a quiet crossroads, sweetie."
Maggie had always taken it for a bit of harmless superstition, but perhaps Hershel Greene had simply been a man ahead of his time.
These days, there was a certain etiquette to meeting new folks on the road. It required caution and a fair amount of restraint. You didn't want to run into the wrong kind of people, but you didn't want to be the wrong kind of people, either. Out here in the open, it was easy to let fear blur the line between enemy and friend. Maggie had made a lot of enemies lately – she needed all the friends she could get.
"Keep him in your sights," Maggie instructed, making up her mind.
She shrugged off her jacket, revealing the budding swell of her stomach. At five months along, her belly had popped seemingly overnight. Even if this turned out to be some kind of ploy, Maggie had discovered that most people tended to hold their fire when confronted with a pregnant woman.
Leaning against the open door, Maggie nonchalantly rested her hand on her hip, her holster within easy reach. "You lost?" she called.
"I don't get lost," the man replied after a brief pause, sounding affronted. His voice was a surprisingly husky rumble. "My sense of direction is excellent."
Maggie arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "So why are you out here?"
"I'm waiting for someone," the man said, gracing her with the most cursory of glances. "It isn't you."
"Just being neighborly." Normally, she would've left this man in peace – he clearly didn't wish to be bothered – but these were interesting times indeed. "Who are you waiting for? Maybe I've seen them."
"That is none of your concern."
He had yet to acknowledge Sasha's rifle pointing his way. "Sorry about my friend," Maggie offered, keeping her tone light even as her hand inched closer to her holster. "Just a precaution. Lots of shady folk 'round these parts."
"Whatever makes you feel safe," he said dismissively, not bothering to look at either of them. "Is that all, or do you have any more unnecessary questions?"
Sasha gave a little snort. "Who pissed in his cornflakes?" she whispered.
"Why would anyone –" the man cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath.
He turned his face to the sky and let out a long sigh. The sunlight highlighted a faint bruise along his sharp cheekbone. He was quite handsome, despite the weariness etched into his features.
"This is pointless," he said, his voice edged with frustration. "He is not answering my summons."
"Your summons?" Maggie echoed.
"Crowley doesn't like me very much," he continued, scowling into the distance. "Which, I assure you, is completely mutual. He is truly a wretch. Although I suppose he considers that part of his charm."
"Sounds like someone I should avoid," she offered, caught off guard by the man's unexpected chattiness.
He sighed. "That would be wise."
"I don't think he's one of them, Maggie," Sasha murmured, her voice as soft as a breath. "He's just another crazy asshole."
In a flash, his sharp blue gaze fixed on her. "Maggie?" said the stranger, warmth entering his voice for the first time.
Maggie let out a gasp. She felt herself suddenly overcome by an inexplicable sensation, as if she'd been drenched in ice-cold water. It wasn't a bad feeling... but it was wholly unexpected, throwing her off-guard.
He couldn't possibly have heard Sasha's whisper from all the way over there, could he?
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"My name is Castiel," he said, smiling. "I'm friends with Carl and Enid – they're very fond of you, especially Enid. They speak of you often."
Maggie gasped. Ignoring Sasha's hissed warnings, she rushed to bridge the distance between herself and this inexplicable stranger. "Are they alright?" she asked, a tightness in her throat.
They'd heard the rumors, of course, about the Saviors rescuing Rick's kids. Dwight's inconvenient death had made it difficult to discern truth from bullshit, but when Maggie sent Jesus to find out what had really happened, he never came back.
Castiel inclined his head. "They're home."
Maggie pushed down the lump in her throat. "They're okay? All of them?"
Something tightened around his eyes. "Yes," he replied.
Maggie found herself tongue-tied all of a sudden. From this close, Castiel's eyes were impossibly blue. Her instincts screamed at her to stay on her guard, but his presence tugged at her like a gentle ocean current. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear it, but the feeling lingered, settling into her like an unwanted comfort.
There was no reason to trust this stranger, and yet... there was something there... something she couldn't explain. As his gaze held hers, something in her chest loosened, the tension inside her unraveling in a way that felt almost natural, like a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding…
"I can't believe you did that," Sasha scolded, rushing to her side. "You can't just trust any rando who says he knows you."
"You must be Sasha," Castiel offered with a polite smile.
(Maggie couldn't help smiling back at him.)
Sasha's eyes narrowed, and she turned to face him. "So what did the kids tell you about me?" she demanded, chin jutting.
Castiel hesitated. His gaze flickered away briefly, avoiding direct eye contact.
Sasha's grip on her rifle tightened. "What?" she pressed, her voice flat.
"I understand there were some, um, entanglements," Castiel began, clearing his throat. "Of a… romantic nature?" He squinted slightly.
Maggie covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh.
Sasha's mouth fell open. "Those little gossips!" she gasped. "That's what they had to say about me? Romantic entanglements?"
"I completely understand," Castiel said earnestly, adding with a wistful sigh, "Relationships can be quite complicated."
Sasha's eyes narrowed further, but her grip on the rifle relaxed ever so slightly. "Unbelievable."
"Where are you headed?" Maggie asked, her gaze lingering on the light bruise on his cheekbone. She felt a twinge of incredulity at herself for even noticing something so trivial.
"I need to find a man called Negan," Castiel said matter-of-factly, and his answer sent a jolt of shock down Maggie's spine. His gaze flicked toward the north, toward the Saviors' Sanctuary.
"You what?" Sasha choked.
He tilted his head curiously. "Do you know him?"
"Know him?" Sasha spat, her entire demeanor shifting from guarded to visibly agitated. "Are you kidding me?"
Maggie's mouth ran dry. "Why are you looking for Negan?" she asked, her voice gentle yet firm. She couldn't explain what it was about Castiel that drew her. He was undeniably handsome, but this had nothing to do with it. It was something deeper than that, something in her heart. She could fight it, she thought, but… she didn't want to.
"He took someone from me," Castiel explained, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm going to get him back."
(He looked so sad. Why was that so devastating to her?)
Sasha scowled deeply. "And you think Negan will just–"
"Yes," Castiel answered confidently.
Sasha snorted in disbelief. "It's a long walk to get where you're going."
"Yes." He sighed in frustration before inexplicably gesturing at his own body. "I'll never get used to how slow these are."
Sasha's mouth twitched and her brow furrowed, clearly unsettled. She shot a quick, questioning look at Maggie.
"We'll drive you there," Maggie blurted out, and Sasha's eyes widened.
"What?" Sasha's voice rang out in shock. A nearby flock of birds flew out, startled.
Castiel frowned slightly and inclined his head. The sunlight hit his face just so, cradling a halo behind his head. "That's very kind of you."
Sasha twitched and managed a quick, insincere smile before seizing Maggie's arm. "Excuse us a moment," she said with forced politeness, dragging Maggie toward the broken-down gas station where they could speak in private.
"What are you doing?" Sasha demanded once they were away from Castiel.
"I don't know," Maggie admitted, her voice low. "It's just – something about him. I feel like we need to help him." She glanced back at Castiel and gave him a small wave. Bemused, he waved back.
Sasha caught her hand and pressed it down. "Maggie," she began, trying her hardest to be patient, "he's a stranger who's asking us to drive him to one of the most dangerous places around–"
"He didn't ask," Maggie pointed out. "I offered."
"He's creepy," Sasha whispered furiously. "He's giving me the weirdest vibes. And you – you're acting like a –" She inhaled sharply. "Is this hormones? What – what is going on with you?"
Maggie frowned, her hand drifting to rest on her belly. "I'm fine," she insisted. "I can't explain it, but I need to help him. I have to."
Sasha pressed her lips into a thin line, clearly unconvinced. "Maggie…"
"The roads are safe," Maggie bargained. "We know all the Saviors' lookouts, it's gonna be fine. Look, we'll just drop him halfway there–" She caught herself and amended– "Two-thirds of the way there and then we'll leave, I promise. We'll be back before you know it."
"He's going to get himself killed," Sasha warned quietly. "He's going to get us killed."
"I could drop you off in Alexandria," Maggie suggested, her voice softening.
"You're serious about this, aren't you?" Sasha asked, her voice tight. "You're actually going to do this?"
Maggie glanced back in Castiel's direction and a shiver ran down her spine. "Something about this feels right, I can't explain it–"
"Fine." Sasha sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. She dragged a hand across her forehead. "Let's just get this over with."
Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to leave a comment below if you can x
Also, I've added another one-shot to the series called Hell Hath No Fury, click on my profile to check it out!