The journey to the Saviors' compound took long hours. By the end of it, Gabriel was struggling to unpeel his fingers from the biker's leather-waist. His legs, stiff from the extended ride, crumbled underneath him the moment his feet hit solid ground.
Gravel digging into his palms, Gabriel leaned forward and emptied his stomach's contents. A chorus of laughter erupted around him, each chuckle and jeer hitting him like a dagger. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tasting bile on his tongue.
"Shit, man, was the ride that bad?" The bike's owner grabbed Gabriel's arm and hauled him to his feet. "I bet you never felt this much power between your legs before, huh?" he said with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows.
Gabriel's face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm fine," he muttered, the world swaying around him. He forced himself to remain standing, every muscle in his body protesting.
Scoffing, the man released Gabriel's arm. He stumbled backward and nearly choked on his own spittle when a familiar death-rattle hiss filled his ears. Gabriel spun around to find a gaunt face pressing against a chain-link fence. The walker was missing both of its arms, but that didn't stop it from snapping its teeth and snarling, leaving traces of its decaying flesh on the metal.
Gabriel's heart pounded as he took in the gruesome sight. The walker wasn't alone; behind it, the yard stretched out, teeming with more of the undead, filling the air with the stench of their rot.
Suddenly, the armless walker was yanked back. Gabriel's eyes widened as he took in the sight of a teenage boy pulling the walker away from the fence. Dressed in rags, the boy's face was mottled with various cuts and bruises, his hair matted and sticking to his sweaty face. A prominent black eye puffed one of his eyelids closed, the skin around it swollen and discolored.
"Sorry," the boy mumbled through a split lip, his voice barely audible, "Sherry got loose."
Before Gabriel could say anything, the biker pounded on the fence, the force of his blows making the chain links rattle violently. "Get back to work!" he barked.
Shrinking, the boy nodded. He moved with a slight limp, favoring one side. The walker snapped its teeth uselessly as it was dragged away, its head lolling to the side.
Gabriel swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Why is he in there?" he whispered hoarsely.
"'Cause he's a little asshole, that's why," the biker responded callously before lobbing a huge ball of spit on the ground. "You wanna join him? Keep asking questions like that, you'll be in there shoveling dead people's shit in no time."
The acidic taste still burning his throat, Gabriel took a steadying breath and forced himself to turn around, to face the Saviors and whatever came next. He didn't know why Negan wanted him brought here, but there had to be a reason. He could use that.
These people might laugh at him now, but he couldn't let them see him falter again. Squaring his shoulders, Gabriel locked eyes with the biker, who smirked at him.
"I appreciate your hospitality," Gabriel said politely, smiling in a way he knew people occasionally found unsettling.
The biker's expression shifted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Yeah, whatever," he scoffed.
Hands clasped politely in front of him, Gabriel allowed himself a moment to take in the sights. He knew the Saviors' numbers were great, but seeing it in person was another matter altogether. Gabriel's skin prickled as people – more people than he'd seen in years – milled about their business, many of whom looked at him with undisguised contempt. He resisted the urge to straighten his collar.
The Sanctuary loomed large and imposing, a former industrial complex repurposed into a fortress. The sprawling compound buzzed with activity, the clamor of voices and machinery filling the air. Guard towers overlooked the yard, manned by sentries with watchful eyes and ready weapons. He scanned the area, noting every bit of it to memory.
Every detail could be crucial. After all, Gabriel was brought here for a reason.
"You feeling alright, Pops?" a feminine voice called out, sounding bored.
Gabriel turned to greet the approaching Savior, a blonde woman with a neck tattoo who, as he recalled, often accompanied Dwight on tributes. He opened his mouth to offer an empty greeting, but the words died on his lips when he saw the person walking next to her.
"Rosita," he gasped.
He couldn't believe she was here, right in front of him. He hadn't seen her in weeks, not since the last time he had found her in his church, a pistol in her hands and tears streaming down her face. The following morning, she didn't show up for guard duty.
They sent people to look for her, but she'd left no trace. For weeks, the guilt had been eating away at him. He had known about the gun, had seen how ready she was to throw her life away in a desperate attempt to take down Negan. Despite their best efforts, the search parties came back empty-handed, and Gabriel was left grappling with the fear that he had failed her when she needed him most.
The look on Rosita's face was a mix of defiance and exhaustion, even though she avoided his gaze completely. "What the hell is this, Laura?" she demanded, hands planted on her hips.
Laura shrugged. "Boss wants him." She scuffed the gavel with her boot, covering Gabriel's vomit.
Rosita gritted her teeth. "He doesn't belong here."
Neither do you, Gabriel wanted to say. His mind struggled to process Rosita's presence here, among the Saviors.
Swallowing hard, he said, "Rosita… We thought you were… I thought you were dead. We looked everywhere for you."
Rosita scoffed and looked away, her teeth clenched. When she finally met his eyes, her expression was pained. "I got tired of being on the losing side," she said, her voice laced with bitterness.
The blonde woman's teeth flashed as she smiled. "You're still part of the Loser's Club, Ro." With an air of familiarity that was wholly unexpected, Laura bumped Rosita's stiff shoulder with her own. "You're not one of us yet, not until Negan says you are."
"I am one of you," Rosita spat out, entirely unconvincing.
Laura smirked. "You will be." Turning to Gabriel, she said, "She's on probation, Pops. Same as you."
"Probation?" Gabriel repeated. His gaze darted to Rosita, but she refused to meet his gaze once more.
"Special privileges," Laura replied, mouth curling into a sly smile. "You get the VIP treatment and a 24/7 escort at no cost, at least until we figure out if we like you. No weapons, though." She sighed. "Turn around and spread your arms out."
Gabriel hesitated for a moment before complying, turning around and extending his arms. Laura moved quickly, her hands expertly patting him down with professional efficiency. She checked every pocket, every seam, missing nothing. Her touch was cold. He held back a gasp when she kicked his legs apart, running her hands along each one, from his ankles to his groin. Each movement was thorough and impersonal.
The biker, watching the process with a lewd grin, leaned in close. "How's that for a spiritual experience, eh, Padre?" His breath was sour on Gabriel's face as he whispered, "You, uh, ever been this close to a woman before?"
"Don't be a creep, Dex," Laura said flatly, retrieving Gabriel's knife from its holster. She held it up, examining it briefly before tucking it away. "All clear."
Gabriel straightened his gaze. "Celibacy is not a requirement for ordination in the Episcopal Church." He smiled. "And I haven't always been a priest."
Dex threw his head back and laughed. "Holy shit," he hooted, "preacher man's got balls!"
Laura rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Alright, that's enough. Come along, Pops, Negan's waiting for you."
Exhaling sharply, Gabriel nodded. Without another word, he followed Laura deeper into the Sanctuary. She led them through a series of turns, her pace brisk and unyielding. Every corner turned revealed another layer of the Saviors stronghold. The sheer scale of it was daunting, a maze of dimly lit corridors and sprawling halls. People moved with purpose, casting wary glances at him as he passed. The occasional sound of a distant shout echoed through the corridors.
Rosita walked a step behind Laura. He kept trying to meet her eyes, but her face remained turned away, expression unreadable.
Finally, they arrived at a large, reinforced door. Before he could step inside, Laura drew his attention to a basin of water left on a table by the door. "Do your thing," she ordered sharply, arms crossed over her chest.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, confused.
Laura sighed. "You know, holy water or whatever."
Gabriel hesitated, caught off guard. He lifted a hand to touch the edge of the basin. The metal sweated with condensation, the water freshly chilled. "I don't understand," he said. He glanced at Rosita, but her expression betrayed her own state of confusion.
For the first time, Laura seemed to lose her confidence. She dropped her arms to her sides and huffed. "Dude, I'm working with the same information as you. Just get this over with." A flush rose in Laura's cheeks. "You are a real priest, aren't you? This isn't a fetish thing?"
"Why do people keep asking me that?" Gabriel wondered, cringing.
Laura scoffed before leaning closer, whispering, "While you're here, try to avoid Davey, okay?" She shuddered.
Gabriel blinked. "Noted."
"Chop chop," Laura said, gesturing towards the basin.
With a sense of foreboding, Gabriel stepped forward, dipping his fingers into the cool water. He closed his eyes briefly, muttering a blessing and making the sign of the cross over the basin. Invoking the Holy Spirit in this place felt like blasphemy.
"There," he said softly.
Laura lifted the basin and placed it in his arms. "Don't drop this," she said, giving him a curt nod. She then held her hand to the door and knocked.
The door opened a crack, revealing a short man with a narrowed-eyed expression. He looked Gabriel up and down before nodding in approval, "Get in," he said gruffly, "and watch your step."
It was a well-lit torture chamber. The thought rang oddly in Gabriel's mind.
A woman was strapped to a chair in the middle of the room. There were more people present, but Gabriel could not look away from the horrifying scene. The woman's head hung limply to the side and her body, clad in nothing but a short nightgown, was a canvas of crisscrossing cuts. Most horrifying of all, two metal stakes had been driven through her hands, holding them immobile to the chair's arms.
It didn't escape his attention that the woman was placed over a circular sigil, with what looked to be a pentagram in its center.
Was this a Satanic ritual of some kind?
The cool water splashed onto his hands as stepped inside the room, fighting to maintain his composure. The air was cloying with the metallic scent of blood.
The woman's eyelids fluttered. "Help me," she groaned.
Gabriel casted a glance at Rosita, who stood rigidly by the door, her expression unreadable.
Laura's earlier confidence seemed to falter for a moment before she straightened up, her professional mask slipping back into place. "Here he is, boss," she announced, her voice steady.
There he was, Gabriel thought numbly, staring at Negan with a newfound dread.
At the far end of the room, Negan stood by a round table, the cheery polka-dotted tablecloth a stark juxtaposition to the array of torture instruments laid out on top of it. He was wiping his face with a towel, his white t-shirt flecked with blood.
Negan dragged the towel down his neck. "Oh, this is gonna be so much fun," he intoned gleefully, flinging the towel into the chest of a nearby lackey. Turning to Gabriel, he opened his arms wide and announced, "Man of the hour!"
"H-hello," Gabriel stammared, fighting to keep his composure.
"I know what you're thinking, Father," Negan said casually as he walked slowly towards Gabriel, a sly grin blooming on his face. "You're thinking: what sort of freaky-deaky BDSM club did I walk into? And just whose ass do I gotta eat to get a drink around here?"
Negan chuckled. "Unfortunately, this isn't that kind of party." The woman flinched violently as he idled past her. Sidling up to Gabriel, he added in a theatrical whisper, "But for the record? My safeword is Saigon." He lifted a finger to his lips and winked.
"We didn't bring him here for this," a man with a smooth English accent interjected, his expression mildly disapproving.
Negan rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a buzzkill, Vic!" His grin never wavered as he turned back to Gabriel. "Man's gotta see what we're fighting for."
Hoarsely, Gabriel whispered, "What are you fighting for?"
Negan beamed. "Glad you asked!" He slung an arm around Gabriel's shoulders, the water in the basin sloshing as he pulled them towards the woman, right to the edge of the circular drawing. She shrank back into her seat, as far as the restraints allowed her.
"You see this bitch here?" Negan's arm tightened around Gabriel's trembling shoulder. "She's been staking you people out for a while." He frowned down at her. "What d'you call yourself again, sweetheart? Jada? Jadis? Jado?"
The woman's breaths came in bursts of shallow, panicked gasps. "Anne," she said, gasping. "Please, I'm Anne." She turned her tear-streaked face to Gabriel. "Father," she sobbed, "help me."
Negan let out a loud snort. "Whatever. So, this bitch, right? She's got her folks stalking your folks, and of course, your folks work for my folks. You can imagine that I'm not totally fucking cool with her folks stalking my-folks-by-proxy. You see what I'm getting at?" He clicked his tongue in disapproval and dipped his hand in the basin of water, fingers swirling in the cool liquid.
Gabriel stared at the trembling woman before him.
Negan chuckled lightly, squeezing Gabriel's shoulder. "Now these garbage people – and boy do I mean that literally – they weren't after your food, they didn't want your medicine, oh no sir. They were gonna stick their nasty, filthy, disgusting -riddled fingers up your assholes and turn y'all into more goddamn garbage people." He shuddered violently. "And no Tetanus shot was ever gonna save you from that fate."
He's insane, Gabriel thought numbly.
Negan sighed. "Saving people, that's kind of my jam. We are the Saviors. And me and my boys? We provide protection to others."
With a sudden, deliberate motion, Negan brought his hand out of the basin and flung a handful of water at the woman. "I just couldn't let that shit slide!" Negan shouted.
The change was instantaneous. The icy water steamed as it hit the woman's skin, like it had somehow turned to acid. A terrible stench filled the air.
Sulfur, Gabriel's mind whispered, his back hitting the wall with a thud. Clutching the basin of holy water to his chest, he began to pray. "Almighty and everlasting God, who art the creator and preserver of all mankind: We humbly beseech thee to keep us from all evil–"
The woman –Anne?– gave an unnatural growl as her flesh boiled, her eyes flashing a full, pitch black. Gone was the frightened, tortured woman. The thing that stared back at Negan in contempt was… something different.
"– Surround us with thy holy angels, that we may be defended and strengthened by their presence –"
Negan pointed at Gabriel. "None of that shit," he growled, expression hard.
Gabriel clamped his mouth shut.
The thing in the chair laughed, a sound that was deep, guttural, and utterly inhuman. "You kill my people? I make more." Her black eyes somehow focused on Negan as she chuckled. "I come back. Maybe I take yours."
That seemed to catch Negan by surprise. "Wait, you thought?..." He looked at Gabriel before dragging a hand down his face, shaking his head in disbelief. "Wow."
"Gabriel," Rosita whispered as she slid closer, her back pressed to the wall. Her hands found his elbow as she stared, eyes wide, at the creature in the middle of the room. "Is this really happening?"
"I am so embarrassed for you!" Negan told the woman, his voice hoarse from holding back laughter. He turned to his lackeys and chortled, "Can you believe this shit? This black eyed bitch doesn't know who I am!"
Loud snickers echoed across the room.
The creature – the demon – pouted. "Don't have to be mean."
Negan shook his head, flicking tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes. "You thought I brought him in for an exorcism?" He jerked his thumb in Gabriel's direction, chuckling heartily. "No, sweetheart, this isn't that kind of party. Besides, I got bigger fish to fry than you."
Still chuckling, he went and picked out a shiny silver blade from the table spread. The woman's black eyes widened at the sight of it.
Negan, brandishing a boyish grin, turned back to the demon. "Nah. You're just a demonstration."
He drove the knife into her chest. She screamed, sparks flying from her lips as light pulsed behind her skin.
As the light dimmed and the woman slumped in the chair, Negan gave a theatrical little bow. "Service, rendered. You're welcome."
The scent of sulfur was suffocating, filling the room with a nauseating stench. Gabriel kept staring at the woman's – the demon's – lifeless corpse, a wordless prayer stuck on his lips.
"Saddle up, Padre," said Negan, his eyes sparkling. "We got work to do."