Is it okay if I use the Soulbound fic as inspiration for my own, I don't post my fucks or anything I just like writing them to read myself lol, but I wanted to ask if I could first
(A/N): Ah finally I got off my ass and stopped procrastinating lmao I'm sorry for that. I started getting really into streaming on Twitch again. I've also become a caregiver for my grandparents and I go back to college again in a month after dropping out when COVID hit soooo I've been very busy. However, I am not giving up on this or my Supernatural fic. I also do read all of your comments so if you have suggestions, I do see them!
Chapter Warnings: typical TWD violence, Shane, pregnancy talk, inconsistent southern accents, SHORT CHAPTER, NEXT IS SEASON 2 FINALE
1st Person POV:
It's been getting colder. The way the day is manageable, but the temperature drops after dark in a way that makes me shiver all night long. After the walker was on the property, the one that killed Dale, Daryl either has been at my side, or he's had Carol stay with me. He's always back by dark now though. Always next to me while I sleep to do his best to keep me warm, piling me with blankets, jackets and his thick sweats now that my jeans aren't fitting right.
Daryl moved us back towards the main camp, our tent now with the rest after he realized us being further away did absolutely nothing for our safety. But now, Hershel and Rick have been discussing moving us all into the farmhouse.
"It'll be tight, 14 people in one house." Rick says as Daryl and I approach him, Shane, Hershel, Beth and Maggie. Daryl's pace is slow, matching mine but his stride still holds purpose.
"Don't worry about that." Hershel shakes his head. "With the swamp hardening, the creek drying up..."
Maggie picks up where he left off, "With 50 head of cattle on the property, we might as well be ringing a damn dinner bell."
The older man nods, "She's right. We should've moved you in a while ago."
Rick turns, gesturing to the cars, the house and the direction of the road. "All right, let's move the vehicles near each of the doors facing out toward the road. We'll build a lookout in the windmill, another in the barn loft. That should give us sightlines both sides of the property."
Daryl's hand on the back of my neck makes me look at him, "Take what ya can into the house. Don' worry 'bout the heavy shit. Seriously, I catch ya tryin'a lift somethin' ya ain't supposed to we're gonna have words." Before I can retort, he plants a sloppy kiss on the side of my head, and he stalks off to his bike so he can ride it closer to the house.
I huff softly and grab my backpack and the duffel bag of clothes. I put the backpack on my shoulder and hold the duffel bag in one hand, the other hand on my belly. Hershel estimates I'm roughly 14-15 weeks now. Out of the first trimester danger zone, and almost halfway through the pregnancy.
"Let me help you with that, honey." I hear a voice behind me, and I turn to see Carol already grabbing the duffel bag from my hand, gentle but insistent.
"I've got it." I tell her with a small smile, not wanting to be rude but I'm tired, the cold nights full of shivering making sleep difficult. And judging by the aching weight on my shoulders (and lower back), it's probably a little obvious.
"I know you do. But you've also got that." She gestures to my barely-there bump. "I've got nothing but time, let me help you." Carol's voice just holds a simple offer, no pity, just 'I've been where you are.'
I nod and smile at the older woman, "Thanks, Carol."
"Don't mention it." She smiles back and stays in stride with me to the farmhouse, not rushing, just letting me take my time. When we get to the stairs, her hand finds my back, and she steps halfway behind me, prepared to catch me if I lose my balance I'm assuming.
Once we step inside, Hershel looks in our direction, and he points in the direction of the bedroom Daryl was kept in when he was impaled on his arrow and shot by Andrea. "You can put your stuff in there. Pregnant woman gets the bed."
"Hershel, that's not necessary--"
The older man only cuts me off with a soft smile. "You're only going to get more uncomfortable as your pregnancy progresses. At least this way your joints are cushioned and your muscles and ligaments aren't strained."
I sigh and give him a smile back. "Thank you." Carol's hand on my back again ushers me into the room. The bed is made, neat compared to when my husband looked deathly on it. I put my backpack on the bed and Carol sets the duffel on the floor.
"The men are in there." I hear Lori say to someone in the living room followed by the screen door opening and closing. I hear Hershel offer his room to Lori, Rick and Carl. Then Hershel shouting that the couch is his, assuming someone jokingly tried to take it. It makes me laugh a little before sitting on the bed.
A sharp pulling sensation on the left side of my belly makes my breath hitch, like someone hooked their finger under my muscle and yanked. My hand goes to the spot as I shift with the pain and Carol is kneeling in front of me in an instant, her hand on the other side of my belly.
"What is it?" She asks softly but concerned.
"Nothing -- it's fine." I reassure, letting out the breath I held, palm pressing into the aching muscle. "Just like a pulling feeling. Comes and goes."
Carol's eyebrows furrow, her eyes sharp and watchful, "Is it a contraction?" Fuck I hope not.
I shake my head, "N-No, I think. More like a cramp, but sharper. Quick. It's gone already."
Carol watches me for a moment, then sat down next to me on the bed. "Round ligament pain." She deduces. "I used to get it with Sophia. Felt like someone was snapping a rubber band inside me."
My head turns to look at her, "That's what this is?"
"I think so. Everything stretching to make room." She says matter-of-factly. "It'll happen when you move too fast, or stand up too quick, or cough too hard. Scares you the first few times."
I let out a soft, shaky laugh, "Yeah. It does."
Carol doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, she reaches over and gently takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. "Does it help to know it's normal?"
I laugh again, but more relaxed this time. "A little."
"Good. Then I'll keep telling you." She says with an amused grin. "You're doing fine. You're both doing fine."
I look down at my belly, the small bump hidden under my shirt. I press my hand there and smile softly, "I didn't know it would feel so weird, growing a person. Some days I forget, and then something like this happens and I remember -- oh shit there's actually life in there."
"It's strange and it's terrifying, and it's the most amazing thing you'll ever do." She pauses, then says, "And you're not alone in it."
I nod, blinking hard as I feel my throat tighten. Stupid hormones. "Thank you, Carol."
Carol pats my knee and stands up, fluffing the pillow against the headboard, "I'll get you some water. You lay down, put your feet up, that's an order."
I chuckle and she helps me lay down on my side, "Yes, ma'am."
Carol smiles at me then turns and walks out, leaving me on the bed to relax.
~~~~~~~
I didn't mean to fall asleep. Hell, I didn't know I did until I startle awake from the door creaking open. Daryl walks in slowly, seeing I'm not entirely awake yet. "Sorry, didn't know you were sleepin'." He's carrying some of our stuff, the heavier stuff he said not to worry about.
"Didn't mean to be." I mumble groggily, bringing a hand up to rub my eyes.
"Carol said you have pain." He says simply, but the worry is obvious, in the way his jaw is tight, and his shoulders are squared like he can fight the pain for me. "Said it was sharp, on yer side."
"Did she also tell you it's normal?" I ask, a hint of teasing creeping into my tone. I move my legs so he can sit down on the bed.
He nods and sits down, his hand finding my belly with ease now, no longer hesitant. Or, not as hesitant. "You sure?" He then turns slightly and starts unlacing my boots and pulling them off, setting them on the floor next to the bed.
"I'm sure."
"Would ya tell me if it wasn't?" Daryl asks as his hand finds my belly again.
"Of course." I reply softly, my hand resting on his on my belly. "I missed you."
"Missed ya too." He rubs his hand over the bump. "Glad yer okay, scared me a lil."
"'M sorry." I mumble sleepily.
He just shakes his head, then he leans down and kisses my forehead and stands up. "Go back t'sleep. I'll bring ya somethin' to eat before Rick 'n' I go take the prisoner."
I nod and close my eyes, dozing back off to the sound of his retreating footsteps.
~~~~~~~
I wake up sometime later to Daryl opening the door. The apocalypse has gifted me extremely light sleep unfortunately. He's got a tray in his hands, his crossbow on his back. "Mornin', sunshine. Brought ya a sandwich. S'chicken, ya need the protein, and Hershel says ya need the iron." He sets the tray down by my feet, then he holds out his hands to help me up.
I take his hands and he gently pulls, sitting me up and putting the tray in my lap. I just quietly take a bite of the sandwich, not quite awake yet. "Rick 'n' I are gonna go take Randall. Should be back a little after dark. You just rest up, I'll help ya organize our stuff in the mornin'." He says softly, calloused fingers softly petting the top of my head. "Can't find mah gun, s'probably in our shit somewhere."
I nod as Daryl leans down and kisses the top of my head. "Last I saw it was in your bike bag. But be safe. Come back to me." I tell him, looking up at him.
He nods instantly, no hesitation. "Always do." Then he turns and walks back out, leaving me to eat.
Some commotion catches my attention shortly after I finish eating. I quickly put my boots back on and follow everyone outside to the shed we were keeping Randall in. Daryl, T-Dog and Rick are already out there when the rest of us run out.
"What's wrong?" I hear Lori ask from my left.
"Randall's missing." Glenn replies in front of me.
"Missing? How?" I ask, a hand on my belly as I jog over.
"How long's he been gone?" Hershel questions.
"What's goin' on?"
"It's hard to say."
"The cuffs are still hooked. He must' slipped 'em." Rick says as he gestures to the shed.
Carol's eyebrows furrow. "Is that possible?"
Daryl holds out a hand to stop me, like Randall's gonna pop out and attack any minute now.
"It is if you've got nothing to lose." Rick replies.
Hershel closes the shed door, the opens it again. "The door was secured from the outside."
The panicked chatter continues until Shane's voice comes screaming from the treeline, his face bloody like his nose is broken. "Rick! Rick!"
Daryl steps closer to me, half in front of me as Lori yells back, "What happened?"
"He's armed! He's got my gun!" Shane explains as he marches up with seething rage. It's honestly kinda scary.
"Are you okay?" Carl asks.
"I'm fine. Little bastard just snuck up on me. He clocked me in the face."
Rick turns, pointing at Hershel and gesturing to the house. "All right, Hershel, T-Dog, get everybody back in the house. Glenn, Daryl, come with us."
Daryl turns to me, speaking quiet and fast. "Go inside with the others, yer gun is in yer backpack with the first aid kit. I'll be back."
Shane points at T-Dog, "T, I'm gonna need that gun."
"Just let him go. That was the plan, wasn't it, to just let him go?" Carol asks, not wanting them to go out there. I have to agree to some degree.
"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here, not on our front step with a gun." Rick retorts, gathering Shane, Glenn and Daryl.
"Don't go out there. Ya'll know what can happen." Carol pleads.
"Get everybody back in the house. Lock all the doors and stay put!" Rick yells as the four men walk to the treeline.
"Carol, c'mon." I gently grab the woman's arm, my other hand on my belly.
She turns and puts her hand on my back, like she decided she was gonna lead me instead. "Let's go, back in the house." T-Dog says as he follows behind Maggie.
~~~~~~~
3rd Person POV:
It's dark out soon after the four men separate, Shane with Rick and Glenn with Daryl.
"It's useless, gimme that light." Daryl holds his hand out for the flashlight, which Glenn hands him. The older man just grumbles slightly as the light shines on the tracks in the dirt.
"We're just back to square one." Glenn says as they step over a fallen log.
"If you're gonna do a thing, ya might as well do it right."
"There's two sets of tracks right here. Shane must've followed him a lot longer than he said." Daryl explains, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes scan over the dirt. Then he moves the light up, catching the red glint of liquid. "There's fresh blood on this tree. There's more tracks. Looks like they're walkin' in tandem."
Daryl keeps walking, an animal calling behind them. Glenn looks back anxiously, not noticing Daryl stopped until he bumps into him. "Sorry."
"Yeah, there was a little dust up right here." Daryl says as the light shines amongst the dirt, leaves and twigs. But it's clearly been disturbed.
"What do you mean?" Glenn asks from behind him.
"I mean somethin' went down."
Glenn huffs slightly, just getting more nervous. "It's getting weird."
Daryl takes a few more steps forward before seeing Randall's blindfold on the ground. "Had a little trouble." Glenn leans down and picks up the piece of cloth, holding it up before a twig snapping and some rustling sends the two men ducking for cover.
They peek around respective trees, seeing a shuffling silhouette in the distance. Daryl whistles softly, catching Glenn's attention. The southern man tosses him the flashlight, and they get ready to attack. But as Glenn rounds the tree, the mobile corpse of what used to be Randall snarls at him.
Randall lunges, shoving Glenn to the ground and Daryl fires an arrow, missing the rotting body entirely, then uses his crossbow to block Randall's lunge at him. Glenn fumbles in the dirt, looking for his machete he dropped when he fell.
Glenn gets up, grabbing Randall from behind and falling onto his back, taking Randall with him, who is just flailing and snarling. Then he rolls, pinning Randall beneath him and finally finds his machete, slamming the blade into the corpse's head. Both men stand up, panting slightly.
"Oh." Daryl breathes out, then he smacks Glenn in the chest. "Nice." Glenn pries the blade from Randall's head and Daryl kneels down, turning his face with the flashlight shining on the body. "Got his neck broke." Daryl moves Randall's clothes, lifting his shirt and pant legs. "He's got no bites."
Glenn crouches down next to him. "Yeah, none you can see."
"Nah, I'm tellin' you he died from this." Daryl points at Randall's neck.
The two men give each other looks as Glenn asks, "How's that possible?"
As the two men start to head back to the farm, they're quiet. Quiet enough that as they walk, they can hear a gunshot in the distance. It makes them freeze in place briefly.
And very shortly after, a second one. Signaling the death of Shane, then the death of his reanimated corpse.
Okay, I saw you wanted some ideas on what to do with Y/N, like how to make her, her own thing, what about this, she herself is freewill in spirit, Gods least favourite creation thats why Micheal and that disliked her so much, kind of like a Pandora's box situation, or garden of eden vibes, like her soul wasnt exactly meant to be earth, maybe Lucifer set her soul free before he fell for the first time, kind of like the greek myth of giving humans fire, I think that would be a really cool premise to make her very vital and not just a sidekick
I do have an idea for why she is pretty disliked by some of the angels, aside from being a huge reason why Cas rebels. But we wont see it until the Mark of Cain era 👀
Okay bit of a long one but it's definitely a hear me out.
After the emotional turmoil of being betrayed by Cass, and Bobby dying, Y/N just goes completely MIA. I can imagine her just having so much anger, most of it in blaming Castiel, so that anger festers and eventually her personality slowly switches, and I think it will be really good to show that switch over time from when Cass opens that gate to when that anger fully takes over once Bobby passes.
And I'm thinking while she's MIA, yeah she does a few hunts, but really what she's looking for is a way to break the soulbond or she just goes around killing angels like borderline soulless Sam
Then Castiel comes back he's alive and Sam and Dean get a job, mainly given by Cas, something is killing angels and it isn't slowing down. When they figure out who it is they kidnap her, she is very angry and tries to kill Castiel on sight. So they lock her in the bunker and Castiel breaks that wall he put up when she got back from hell, and she goes catatonic for several days, they bring in a psychic who tries to channel Y/N, ends up channeling the wrong version and a whole like 'be reasonable about this Y/N' and her being like 'This is me being reasonable' and he basically burns the psychic's eyes out, much like Cass did Pamela, turns out she couldn't break the bond, but she found out a way to use that tiny bit of grace in her soul.
So like a whole chapter could be just going into Y/N's mind/soul to try and find her true self, which is like just hold up in the very centre of it basically being held captive by this angry murderous version. I can imagine her soul/mind being a lot more complex than Sam's because she's lived so many lives, and as I can imagine a lot of biblical lives.
(sorry this is so long, I have a lot of ideas when I listen to music 😂 I love the fic so much if you don't like this idea at all, just disregard it lol)
I do have plans around this era, and some of what you said are in my plans 👀 no spoilers thooo
It would be really interesting to find out who Y/N has been through out history, since in the Soulbound AU she is one of the only instances we have of reincarnation that we know of, it would be really interesting to see that, and how it ties into the story cause poor girl really is just feeling like a sidekick at the moment, uninvited but always involved poor girl, I can't wait to see what you do with that, I'm literally vibrating for the next chapter
She definitely starts to become more front and center as Cas does. Its really hard to include a brand new character into content that already exists 😅 all human soulbonds do reincarnate unless they, for instance, sell their soul and go to Hell. I do want to include more episodes even if Cas isnt in them especially since we are almost at the Leviathans and so on with Metatron. If you have any suggestions on how to make Y/N less of a Winchester side kick please throw ideas at me
I just started reading soulbound, one of the best Castiel Fanfics I've found, I'm not that far in, just unleashed Lucifer, but I'm very excited to see how you write Cas going dark side and Y/NS reaction to it.
I love it so much, could honestly be it's own book you're such a good writer
Thank you so much! I'll be writing more soon. A lot is currently going on but its not being abandoned I promise. I have plans to finish out the whole show. I alternate chapter releases with my TWD fanfic and currently Im a caregiver for my grandparents. Im also a mom, and soon Im going back to college 😅 but I'll get it all done
(A/N): I'm sorry that this has taken so long to come out, I started focusing on streaming on Twitch more recently and playing video games. However, even though I'm doing that, I have no intention of discontinuing this book or my Daryl Dixon fic.
TRIGGER WARNING: suicide. If you or someone you know is struggling, please text or call 988.
1st Person POV:
Sam has been acting strange lately. It's scaring me honestly. Especially after he let Dean turn into a vampire. We did end up going to Scotland though to find and burn Crowley's bones, so that was a fun experience. However, we didn't burn his bones, he came and took them after he agreed to give Bobby back his soul.
Cas has been MIA since getting the Staff of Moses. It's not surprising with the war going on in Heaven but I miss him. He hasn't even called. So I've just been throwing myself into cases, including Sam's.
"I know what I saw, Bobby." Dean insists, talking to Bobby on the phone, the both of us wandering away from Sam. "He threw me to that vamp. I'm telling you, it's not my brother...Yeah, or it's freakin' Lucifer." Dean replies to whatever Bobby says as Sam grabs us food from the street vendor behind us. "'Course I called Cas. He's not answering. Screw him. I can't wait anymore...Professional? He watched me get turned!" Dean pulls the phone away from his ear long enough to put it on speaker so I can hear. "Tell him."
"What you saw... are you sure that's what you saw?" The voice of my dad, gruff as always speaks through the phone.
"Damn it, Bobby, yes. I know. (Y/N) saw it too." Dean huffs in frustration. When it had happened, the vampire had Dean pinned to the dumpster. I had just rounded the corner of the alley to see Sam just watching, his back to me instead of helping Dean. In my attempt to help, I was gifted a toss into a wall that shattered my phone.
"Well, 'you know' ain't the same as proof. 'Cause we're talking about --"
I interrupt Bobby, "-- we're talking about doing something about this, and fast. It's not just the vamp, okay? He has been different from the get-go."
Bobby sighs, "All right. I'm with you."
"Are you?" Dean asks.
"Yeah. I'll hit the books, hard. Just don't shoot him yet, all right? Watch him. We need facts. 'Cause if it ain't Sam... we don't know what it is. And if we're gonna put him down, we need to know how."
"We don't even want to ride in the same car with him, much less work a damn case." Dean complains, sounding like when we were kids and I stole his snacks.
"Get in the car. He's your case." Then Bobby hangs up the phone right as Sam walks up with a newspaper and lunch in his hands.
"Hey. I was just, uh, I was leaving Lisa a message." Dean lies, holding up the phone.
Sam looks a little confused, "With (Y/N)?"
"Oh, I was trying to call Cas first. Also no answer." I add onto the lie.
"Trouble in paradise. Still hasn't called you back, huh?" Sam asks Dean.
Dean shakes his head, "No."
Sam hands us both a foil-wrapped hot dog, "Sucks."
"Yeah." Dean and I mumble at the same time.
"You okay?" Sam asks, looking at us intensely.
I nod quickly, "Yeah, just worried about Cas, ya know?"
Dean also nods, countering Sam's question, "How are you?"
Sam blinks in surprise, "Me? Great. Here, look. Check this out. Think it might be something." He holds out a newspaper for us to take and look at. "Four people, out of nowhere, all in the last couple of weeks. What do you say?"
"Yeah. Sounds like a plan." Dean replies, handing back the newspaper.
"Let's go."
~~~~~~~
The boys and I end up at the house of a woman named Olivia, the sister of one of the victims of whatever this is. The red-headed woman comes around the corner with a picture of her sister, Jane. "I don't understand. Why would federal investigators be interested in a suicide?"
I clear my throat, approaching Olivia with my hands in my pockets. "Well, um... it's a new, more caring administration."
I can tell she thinks I'm full of crap. "Well, I already told the cops. Jane was having a really bad day, so I-I did what any sister would do." She tucks some hair behind her ear and glances back at Dean as he leans against the doorway. "I... tried to cheer her up, you know? Told her to hang in there."
"You know what a 'tell' is?" Sam asks, a cruel look in his eyes.
"Sam--" I start.
"Excuse me?" Olivia replies weakly.
"It's a poker term... for when you're bluffing. Like what you just did with your hair." Sam gestures to his own hair.
Olivia basically shrinks in on herself. "What are you trying to say?"
"You're lying." Sam's accusation makes Dean and I look at each other with surprise.
"What?!" Olivia exclaims.
"Tell us what you did to your sister." Sam presses.
The woman looks to Dean and I for reassurance. Then Sam looks at us, and the cruel expression softens a little like he had to force it. "Okay. You're right. I was lying. I wanted to tell her, 'I love you. I'm here for you.' Oh, but what came out was... 'You're a burden. Just kill yourself.' Who says that?! I-I-I just couldn't stop!" Olivia sobs, while Sam looks rather smug that he got that information out.
We leave shortly after Sam traumatizes the poor woman further. "See anything in the house?" Sam asks as we walk back to the car.
"No hex bags, no sulfur, no EMF. You?" Dean says, glancing at me.
"I got normal family photos and a snow globe from Niagara Falls. Sam?"
Sam shrugs, "A tuba and an issue of Crochet Today. So, what, already kinda suicidal?"
"Right, and then big sis's Taxicab Confession sends her over the edge. Question is, what made big sis open her big, fat mouth in the first place?" Dean adds.
"Yeah, that is the question." Sam replies with an ever-serious tone as he gets in the car. Dean and I both hesitate to get in with him but do after a few seconds.
~~~~~~~
"Hey. You got anything?" Dean asks Bobby on the phone again, peeking out the curtains anxiously, afraid Sam will come back so soon.
"I've been up all night lookin'. Nothing fits." Bobby replies through the speaker phone.
"Awesome." Dean grumbles sarcastically.
Bobby sighs, "You got anything else to go on?"
"Yeah, my skin crawls being in the same room with him. Why don't you look that up?"
"I'm working on it."
I grab the phone from Dean's hand and sit down on one of the beds, "We don't know how much longer we can do this, Dad. You got to figure out what the hell he is and fast."
"I'm trying. But, sweetheart, there's a worst-case scenario." Bobby leads on.
Dean sits down in front of me, adding with even more sarcasm, "What, Satan's our co-pilot? Yeah, we know."
"Well, that'd be the other worst case."
"Well, then what?" I ask, leg bouncing anxiously.
"Maybe it's just Sam." Bobby proposes. I can almost hear the shrug on the other side of the line.
"We gotta go." Dean says suddenly.
"Dean."
"You got a day, Bobby, and then we're handling this." Then Dean hangs up the phone and takes a sip from a beer.
"You really gotta hang up on my dad like that?" I chastise, crossing my arms over me chest.
"Jeez, you sound like Ellen. Stop that." Dean grumbles before Sam comes in, wearing his FBI garb.
"There was another one." He says, with a smile that makes a chill shoot up my spine.
Dean and I both stand up quickly from the beds, "Yeah? What?"
Sam rubs his hands together, "Dentist drilled a guy to death."
"You mean the... non-sexy kind of drilling, right?" Dean asks.
"Ew, Dean." I cringe, swatting at my brother's shoulder.
Sam is as eager as ever, like you just told a kid they were going to Disneyland. "50 bucks says he's mixed up in all the crazy."
"You think?" I retort sarcastically.
"Yeah. Let's go talk to him." Sam says.
Dean looks nervous, stuttering, "Okay. Uh... why don't you go ahead? I'll catch up. I'm gonna do a little research."
"You sure?" Sam asks, surprised at the refusal.
Dean shrugs, "Yeah. We got to know what we're up against, right?"
Sam hesitates for a long time, glancing between Dean and I before relenting. "Yeah. Yeah, good idea."
"I'll go with you." I offer, already going to grab my suit.
"Sweet, I'll meet you in the car." Sam nods once and exits the room.
"Are you crazy?" Dean asks incredulously.
"Dude, can you be any more suspicious?" I counter, "He may not be Sam but he's not stupid. He's totally onto you."
"Oh come on its not that obvious." Dean argues, sipping his beer.
"Add oblivious to the list of adjectives to describe you right now while you're at it." I sass before going to the bathroom to get dressed.
~~~~~~~
"Thanks a lot." Sam says to the dental hygienist before we walk across the street. Sam pulls out his phone and calls Dean, putting it on speaker phone.
"Anything from Marathon Man?"
"Not exactly. He hung himself in his cell before we could get to him." I explain, more to let Dean know like 'hey, I'm fine alone with whatever defected version of Sam this is.'
"Yikes."
"But he was definitely involved. Just got the scoop from his assistant." Sam adds.
"Yeah?"
Sam nods, not that Dean can see it. "Yeah. Let's say the stuff that his patient was confessing to -- I'd have murdered him, too." That doesn't mean much nowadays it seems.
"So, root canal and Russian roulette -- both of 'em, it's like they were cursed, right? I mean, people are just compelled to puke the truth all over 'em?"
"Oh, getting hit with the ugly truth, you go postal? I'd call that a curse. Do us a favor -- we're going to the morgue to check out the body. Why don't you take the dentist's office, see what you see?" Sam suggests.
"Yeah. No problem." Then the distinctive click of Dean hanging up the phone.
~~~~~~~
3rd Person POV:
Dean had just got back from a music store, his laptop open to a page about Gabriel's Horn of Truth, it looks exactly like the horn that the shop owner said was missing. The oldest Winchester reaches over for his whiskey and finishes the glass. Then he calls out, "Castiel? Hello? Possible loose nuke down here, angelic weapon. Kinda your department. You hear that, Cas?"
Dean gets up from the bed and turns, seeing Cas leaning against the kitchenette counter, "Hello, Dean."
"Are you kidding me? I have been on red alert about Sam, and you come for some stupid horn?!" Dean exclaims.
"You asked me to be here, and I came." The angel keeps his voice steady.
Dean starts walking towards Cas, "I -- I've been asking you to be here for days, you dick! So has (Y/N)! You're always at her beck and call, what the hell, man?"
"I didn't come about Sam because I have nothing to offer about Sam." Castiel replies, abashed.
"Well, that's great, because for all we know, he's just gift wrap for Lucifer."
Cas shakes his head, grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the counter and opening it. "No, he's... he's not Lucifer."
"And how do you know that?" Dean asks.
The angel pours the amber liquid into the glass, "If Lucifer escaped the cage, we'd feel it."
"What is wrong with him?" Dean presses, tone full of desperation.
"I don't know, Dean. I'm sorry." Cas mumbles.
"What happened to you, Cas? You used to be human, or at least like one."
"I'm at war." Cas turns, placing the bottle back down on the counter with a thud. He leans forward on the counter. "Certain... regrettable things are now required of me."
"(Y/N) needs you." Dean says, hoping it'll get a reaction.
"Is she relapsing?" The angel asks simply, though his concern is obvious. "I have not felt her in distress."
"No. I think. But she's having us taking case after case. And whatever is up with Sam is feeding it. They're both finding new cases not even two days after finishing one." Dean pleads, worried about his siblings, hoping his "brother-in-law" would help. Cas just sighs softly, conflicted. "And Gabriel's Horn of Truth? That's a real thing?"
Cas turns, seemingly disregarding the rest of the conversation. "You've seen it?"
"We think it's in town. Something's forcing people..." Dean trails off, as Cas has disappeared. "Oh, well, you're welcome!" He takes a swig from his glass, nearly choking on it as Cas reappears behind him.
"It isn't the Horn of Truth."
"What are you talking about? You were gone for like two seconds. Where did you look?" Dean asks incredulously.
"Everywhere." Cas replies like it's obvious.
"Right. Well, nice seeing you, anyway." Dean tells the angel bitterly, turning back to the bottle of whiskey.
"Dean."
"What?" He snaps.
"About your brother. I... I don't know what's wrong with him, but I do want to help. I'll make inquiries. And I will pay (Y/N) a visit, make sure she is okay." Then the flutter of wings signals Cas' departure again.
"Yeah. Thanks." Dean says quietly, a little more genuine as he takes another drink.
~~~~~~~
The coroner pulls the metal slab out of the morgue fridge, the rails squeaking almost painfully. I can't imagine hearing that sound all day.
"Now, I'd actually like to see all the suicides that came in this week, not just Dr. Giggles." Sam requests, then notices the hesitation on the coroner's face. "Is that gonna be a problem?"
"Well, they're -- they're already gone." The man explains, a little nervous about it.
"As in transferred?" I ask for clarification.
He continues to be very vague about what happened. "Yeah, not exactly."
"Would you like to tell me what's going on here, or should I have a little chat with your supervisor?" Sam threatens.
The coroner steps closer conspiratorially, "They're gone."
"As in... gone gone?"
The coroner just nods and pushes the metal slab back in the freezer with the same agonizing squeak.
~~~~~~~
I call Dean as Sam and I walk into the building of a woman who died in a car accident before the rest of the suicides, her body was also missing from the morgue.
"Hey, what's up?" My oldest brother's voice comes through.
"All the bodies are gone." I explain, Sam walking a few steps ahead of me. Weird, normally he slows his pace for those who are...vertically challenged.
"What do you mean, they just vanished?"
I shrug, even though Dean can't see it, "That's what the coroner said. But we got a lead. One of the missing bodies, she died a whole week before everybody else."
"Suicide?" Dean asks.
"Reported as a car accident, but no reason it couldn't have been."
"So then that would make her our patient zero, right?"
I sigh softly as Sam and I start to ascend the stairs, "I'm thinking maybe. Whatever got this whole curse thing rolling started with her. We're at her place now, corner of Burnham and 159th."
"Yeah, give me 10." Then he hangs up and Sam and I continue up to this woman's apartment.
~~~~~~~
3rd Person POV:
Dean starts to walk to the Impala after leaving the bar, his phone up to his ear as he calls Bobby. "Hey, anything you're itchin' to tell me?"
"Not really. Sorry to disappoint."
"Ah, that's all right. I'm just testing a theory." Dean explains as he walks down the street.
"Well, I'm here hittin' the books while drinking a nice glass of milk, while watching 'Tori & Dean'."
Dean's eyebrows furrow in confusion and he stutters, "Wh-- wait, w-who and Dean?"
"Tori Spelling." Bobby replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm a huge fan. Girl's a real talent."
"Oh, I guess it does work over the phone." Dean says quietly to himself as he starts to get in the Impala.
"You know what else? I get a pedicure once in a while -- this nice Vietnamese joint."
"Okay. Okay, please stop."
"This one gal, Nhung Phuong -- her name means 'Velvet Phoenix.' Tiny thing, but the grip on her. She starts on my toes, and I feel like I am gonna --"
Dean puts a stop to that immediately, exclaiming, "Whoa, whoa! Hey, come on, ma-- now I'm scarred for life. Thank you."
"I never told anyone that. Why am I telling you? Maybe 'cause you're my favorite, besides (Y/N) of course. I dunno, it's different, maybe 'cause she's a girl. Although, Sam's a better hunter. Lately, anyway. Whoa. Why the hell am I tellin' you this?!" Bobby yells.
Dean can't help but be smug at being the 'favorite'. "Because I'm cursed."
"Cursed?"
"Yes."
"How is it... that half the time you clean a mess, you end up dirty?" Bobby chastises.
Dean just smiles, "Actually, this might be the best thing that's happened to me in a while."
"What do you mean? Dean... Dean, what damn fool move are you about to --"
"I gotta go." Dean interrupts, but before Dean can hang up Bobby continues.
"Okay. But did you know my first girlfriend turned out to be a --"
Dean then hangs up quickly to save himself from being traumatized, shaking his head, "No, no! Mnh-mnh. Mnh-mnh." Then he dials Sam's number.
"It's Sam. Leave me a message."
"Sam, it's me. Listen, I'm on my way to you, but if you get this before then, give me a call back. There's a few things I want to ask you."
~~~~~~~
1st Person POV:
After texting Dean the apartment number, Corey's roommate lets us inside the apartment they shared before Corey's "car accident".
Her roommate is looking at a picture of the two of them in her hands. "So, why is there an investigation for a car accident?"
"It wasn't an accident. Corey committed suicide." Sam replies, rather bluntly, not sugar coating a word.
The roommate's voice breaks, starting to cry softly, "You know... I wondered. I-I'm sorry. I just..."
I hand her a box of tissues with a sympathetic smile, "So, you had some idea Corey might have taken her own life?"
"Well... she had been going through a bit of a hard time lately... at school. And then, um, her cat, Mittens, had just ran away." She explains, sighing softly. "But, really, it was her boyfriend. She was sure that he was cheating on her. But he was just very good at covering his tracks. Which, of course, made her completely obsessed with --"
"-- finding out the truth." Sam finishes her sentence.
The woman nods and sniffles, "Yeah."
"You mind if we check out her room?" I ask gently, not wanting to upset the woman further. The roommate nods and leads us down the hall to Corey's bedroom, letting us in and closing the door so we can look. Sam rifles through the dresser drawers then opens the closet.
I kneel down and grab a box out from under the bed. I place the floral-decorated box on the bed and open it, eyebrows furrowing in concern as I see the cat skull inside. Sam comes over and leans down, hands on his knees as he eyes the skull. He picks it up and examines it, then he sighs, "Sorry Mittens."
We don't stay much longer after that, leaving the apartment and going down the stairs just as Dean was coming up, in his normal clothes and looking distressed.
"Hey, where you been? I found something." Sam asks Dean, holding up the box in emphasis.
"It can wait. We got to talk." Dean replies, turning to walk down the stairs with us again, his tone serious.
"Yeah. What's up?" Sam asks with furrowed brows, opening the box again to look inside.
"There's a few things I want to ask you, and, uh, you're gonna tell me the truth." My oldest brother demands.
Sam turns to Dean as we reach the bottom of the stairs, "Uh, yeah, Dean. Of course. What are you talking about? Whoa. Are you saying you're..."
"Dean are you sure this is the best time to--"
Dean just interrupts me, eyeing Sam. "I asked for the truth. And you know what? I'm getting it. So, like I said, I have a few questions for you. When that vamp attacked me, why did you just stand there?"
Sam falters for a moment, and I can see the expression on his face change to puppy dog eyes, like someone flipped a switch. "I-I didn't. I froze."
Dean doesn't believe him for a second. He glances at me briefly, then back at Sam, "You froze. You have been Terminator since you got back."
Sam shrugs, his voice pleading slightly. "I don't know. Shock? And then it was too late. I feel terrible about it. Believe me. Dean... I can't lie here. Do you really think I would let something like that happen on purpose? You're my brother. H-how could you even --"
"Okay." Dean interrupts softly, still not fully believing but for the sake of arguing. "Okay. Sorry. I...I thought -- I thought I saw something. I... I guess I was wrong. It's just been a really, really bad day."
Sam nods, "Hey. It's okay. I got your back, all right? I always have."
"We both do." I emphasize, Sam usually including me in conversations like this. I give Dean a pointed look, one that asks if he believes this crap.
Dean nods subtly and rubs his forehead, his voice cracking slightly. "Thanks, guys."
Sam nods and turns, heading out to the car.
"That's not Sam." I tell Dean quietly.
"Yeah, no kidding."
"Are you okay?" I ask as we start to follow Sam out.
Dean sighs, "Lisa called back."
He doesn't need to say anything else. "Oh Dean I'm sorry." My hand finds his shoulder.
"It's for the best. We put them in danger." Dean reasons, like he doesn't know if he's trying to convince me or himself.
"That doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel." I argue gently as we approach the Impala. He doesn't answer, just gives me a slightly grateful look and gets in the driver's seat.
~~~~~~~
Dean tosses a dish towel on the counter of the motel room's kitchenette, holding the skull of the cat in his hand with furrowed eyebrows. "So this was the chick's pet?" He asks as he walks over to the dining table Sam and I were sitting at.
Sam types away on his laptop, "Well, she was obsessed."
"I think you mean crazy." Dean corrects, making me laugh softly.
Sam takes the cat skull from Dean, holding up each ingredient as he reads them off, "All right, so cat skull, uh, grains-of-paradise seed, devil's shoestring. Mix 'em well, you got yourself a summoning spell."
"Demon?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
Sam turns his laptop towards Dean and I so we can see the screen. "God. Corey was so desperate for the truth about her boyfriend's cheating heart, she went digging around. Nothing panned out, so she went looking for a different kind of help."
"Opened a door she couldn't close." I conclude.
Sam nods, scrolling the browser page, "Yeah. Now anyone in town who asks aloud for the truth invokes Veritas. And she doesn't just give it to you. She slams you with it until you kill yourself and she gets her tribute."
Dean's eyebrows raise in realization, "So, all that 'tribute' vanishing from the morgue. What do you think, uh, Soylent Green situation?"
I shrug, leaning back in my chair and fidgeting with a pen in my hands. "Gods got to eat, too. Which means we got to take her out or you're on the menu."
"All right, well, what do we know, besides crazy cat lady?" Dean asks with a sigh.
"Well, dogs are her Achilles heel."
"Naturally." Dean and I say at the same time.
He gives me a look, pointing at me like he's offended. "I hate when you do that."
"That's why I do it." I stick my tongue out at him, shoving his shoulder with my foot.
Sam rolls his eyes, calling to get our attention. "Children, children. And she was a pretty hands-on goddess back in the day. Her thing was coming down from the mountain to speak truth to the masses. She wanted more than tribute. She wanted to be worshipped."
"An attention whore." Dean concludes.
Sam chuckles a little, "If you want to put it that way."
Dean leans back in his chair with a small huff, "And what is the 21st-century version of speaking truth to the masses?"
~~~~~~~
Later that night, Dean pays a guard at the tv station to let us in and steal information from the television host that's been everywhere in this town, Ashley Frank. After stealing a computer tower, Sam puts it in the trunk of the Impala, and we take it back to the motel room.
We sit at the foot of the beds, Sam's laptop hooked up to the computer tower and it sitting on a chair in front of us.
Sam hits a few buttons on his laptop and a clip plays on the screen. "I'm Ashley --" The woman clears her throat into her fist. "I'm Ashley Frank, bringing you 'Frank Talk.' Let's do that again."
There is several hours of footage. At one point, Dean gets food. I swear I fell asleep after about four hours.
"Okay, still rolling." A voice off screen says, the sun shining through the motel room curtains.
"I'm Ashley Frank, bringing you 'Frank Talk.' Again. I'm Ashley Frank. Are organic fruits and veggies really worth the cost?
Dean sips from a cup of coffee, a half-eaten donut in his other hand. "She's creepy. I mean, the hair alone. I don't know, man. Maybe there's nothing here."
Sam increases the speed on the video. "Maybe."
"She's at least boring as Hell." I grumble, taking a donut from the box in Dean's lap.
More time passes. We all have changed clothes, Sam is still watching the footage, on hour thirteen. Dean is at the table eating a slice of pizza while I lay on my stomach on the bed, watching with Sam and also eating a slice of pizza.
Ashley Frank still speaking, still on fast-forward. "Are we -- we're spinning? Do the new rent-to-own prices...A recent trend in furniture stores...But think twice before you decide to buy --Before you make that big purchase...Okay." Sam returns the footage to normal speed as it shows Ashley outside the studio, reporting on something in front of a white picket fence. "...We'll ask the councilman ourselves." A dog on the other side of the fence barks at her repeatedly, and the woman is clearly nervous and antsy. "Are we still rolling?"
"Hold on. Check this out." Sam calls Dean over as he rewinds the video.
"Zoom in on that." Dean points to the screen. Sam complies, zooming in on Ashley's face to show an inhuman, blue glow as she glares at the dog.
~~~~~~~
We follow Ashley as she drives her red convertible out of the parking lot of the studio, all the way to her expensive ass house. It's very modern, something I could never hope to afford in this life or the next. Seems like someone should be taxed more.
"Looks pretty normal, right?" Sam asks, almost hesitantly.
"I'm sure inside it's chock full of creep." Dean grumbles as the house lights up with Ashley's arrival. Dean holds up two knives and Sam holds up a third one in one hand. "Ready?"
Sam nods, his other hand holding a jar of dark liquid, "Yeah."
"And that's...?" I trail off, unease creeping up my spine.
"Dog's blood." Sam replies nonchalantly.
"Do I even want to know where you got that?" Dean asks, looking like he needs a shot, or ten.
"Probably not."
Dean and I both cringe. This can't be Sam, he loves dogs, I doubt he couldn't even hurt one out of self-defense. "All right, let's do this." Dean sighs. We exit the car and head up towards the house. Getting inside wasn't an issue surprisingly, but what was weird is that it looks completely normal inside.
The dining room looks minimalist, but expensive as fuck. In the next room was a lounge room of sorts, a lit fireplace on one wall with two cats in front of it. "So where's all the creep?" Sam asks quietly, blood-soaked knife in hand.
One of the cats runs off, and we follow it downstairs. At the bottom is a few cat statues, and a mosaic of Veritas, the same picture Sam showed us on his laptop earlier. The cat goes into the next room, a set of sliding double doors slightly open. Dean opens it further and we continue to follow the cat.
The sight in the room is gruesome. On the right is a gurney with a mangled corpse on it, the cat munching away at some flesh. Across from the door is a headless body on what looks like a meat hook, very Texas Chainsaw. On the left is the body of the dentist, pale and lifeless, but intact.
"You came for dinner." A voice says from behind us.
We turn to see Ashley Frank, or Veritas, standing in the doorway dressed in a goddess' raiment. She waves her hand, sending the three of us hurtling into the hanging body. We land in a large basin, meant for catching blood. My vision blackens around the edges as my head cracks against the tiles, a sharp pain radiating through my skull as I fall unconscious.
Sometime later, the boys and I awake in the basin, tied to handles meant for helping people get out. I watch Veritas put the blood-soaked knives in a drawer.
"Mm. Sit tight. You're up next." The goddess grins before she turns to the corpse of the dentist. Sam gives Dean and I a look while her back is turned. I nod back and glance over at the woman as she pulls something out with pliers. "The tongue... is the tastiest part. It's where the lies roll off." Then she takes a bite out of the fucking tongue. I have to look away, gagging a little but quickly swallowing the bile threatening to spew out. "Mmm. Mmm! I cannot wait to eat yours. I mean, I've seen liars before, but you three? Gold standard." She puts the tongue down and walks away from the corpse.
"Point of professional pride." Dean says with a smirk, distracting the goddess for whatever Sam has planned.
Veritas walks around the basin, standing in front of Dean. "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you, Dean. You know what happens when you base your life on lies, right? The truth comes along and... So, while you've still got your tongue, God knows you've got an earful." She takes a step closer, sitting down next to him. "I think it's your turn to spill some. How 'bout we play a little truth or truth? What should we ask Dean first, hmm? Maybe ask (Y/N) too. Something... Personal about you?" She looks at Sam. "Hey, Dean, (Y/N), I'm curious. What do you really feel about your brother?"
Dean is hesitant at first, but her power makes him spill. "Better now. As of yesterday, I wanted to kill him in his sleep."
Sam looks surprised but gives no other emotion away. "And (Y/N)?" The goddess gives me a sickening smile.
I swallow thickly, feeling the compulsion taking over my thoughts. "He scares me now. I miss the brother I could go to when Dean got too strict."
"I thought he was a monster. But now I think..." Dean trails off.
Veritas only pushes him further. "Now you think what?"
"He's just acting like me."
"What do you mean?" The goddess presses.
"It's the gig. You're covered in blood until you're covered in your own blood. Half the time, you're about to die. Like right now. I told myself I wanted out... that I wanted a family."
"But you were lying." Veritas grins.
Dean just shakes his head. "No. But what I'm good at... is slicing throats. I ain't a father. I'm a killer. And there's no changing that. I know that now."
The goddess looks at me again and I have no choice but to talk. "I don't know what I want. Whether to continue hunting or get out. My dad wants me out, but my soulmate is a fucking angel, so I doubt that'll happen. And he hasn't talked to me in I don't even know how long. So, I just keep throwing myself into cases, hoping that if I put myself in enough danger, he'll show up."
Veritas pats Dean on the shoulder and stands up, twirling a strand of my hair as she passes me. "So, Sam walking back into your life must have been a relief. Hmm? The Larry to your Curly and Moe. And how do you feel about the band getting back together? Hmm, Sam?" She then sits next to Sam.
Sam swallows thickly, "Look... what we do... is hard." I can see Dean look over at another hook to my right, his left. "But...we watch out for each other." Dean nods at me subtly before looking at Sam. "And that's what's important. And that's it. That's the truth."
Veritas just looks confused, "No. No, it's not."
"You said yourself -- I can't lie." Sam argues.
"How are you doing that? That's not possible. You're lying to me!"
"No, I'm not!" Sam exclaims, voice rising as he gets exposed.
"What are you?" The goddess asks, then she looks at Dean and I, who are equally confused. "What is he?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really? I doubt that. I doubt anything that comes out of your mouth right now. You're not human." She insists, looking at Sam like he's dirt under her feet.
"What?" Dean asks in disbelief, his wide eyes meeting mine, both of us in shock.
She looks over at Dean and I. now a little smug. "You didn't know that? Now, that I believe."
It's then that Sam cuts through the ropes, tossing the knife to Dean. Veritas hits Sam once and he goes for the blood-soaked knives in the drawer. He gets hit again before managing to grab the knife and lunge at the goddess. But she knocks him to the floor, sending the knife clattering to the side. She straddles him and begins to choke him. Sam struggles as Dean breaks free, and he puts the knife in my hand, then he grabs the hook.
I cut at my ropes rapidly, Dean approaching Veritas from behind. He swings the hook through her back, making her turn to him as her face becomes something of nightmares, resembling a snake. Big blue eyes and fangs. I manage to cut free, quickly going over and kneeling next to Sam's head and grabbing the knife. I plunge the knife into her chest, making her gasp and her face returns to normal. I grunt and twist the blade for good measure, her body going limp and falling over halfway into the basin.
Dean and I move out of the way as Sam stands up, three scratches on his cheek. Dean has a different blade in his hand, pointing it at Sam. He goes into protective older brother mode, grabbing my sleeve and pulling me away from Sam.
"Dean, it's me." Sam pleads with his hands up.
Dean walks forward, making Sam back up around the basin. Dean's other hand still holds my sleeve while the knife is pointed in Sam's direction. "You are not our brother."
"Just listen."
"What are you?!" Dean exclaims.
"I'm me, Dean. Look, please, just let me explain."
"Why the hell should we believe anything you say?" I demand, pulling my sleeve from Dean's fist.
Sam keeps his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. You want the truth? Here it is. Here it is. God's honest." Then he points at the goddess' corpse. "She was right. There's something wrong with me, really wrong. I've known it for a while. I lied to you. Yeah. And...I let you get turned by that vamp. Because I knew there was a cure, Dean, and we needed in that nest! And I knew you could handle it!"
"Handle it?!" Dean echoes in anger.
"He could've died!" I add. "I knew as soon as I turned that corner that something was wrong with you!"
"I could've killed Ben." Dean concludes.
"And that should stop me cold. But I -- I just don't feel it." Sam sighs, pointing to himself.
"You what?" Dean asks.
"Ever since I came back, I am a-a better hunter than I've ever been! Nothing scares me anymore! 'Cause I can't feel it. I don't know what's wrong with me. I think... I need help." No shit.
I gently pry the knife from Dean's grip as he turns towards me. I set the knife down on a shelf with a small clatter. Dean's green eyes meet mine and I just nod subtly. He turns back around, looking emotional, and Sam sighs in relief, looking hopeful.
Dean hesitates for a moment, before swinging, punching Sam hard enough to send him to the floor with a grunt. Then Dean, grabs him by the collar, punching him again and again, reaching a total of thirteen times plus the initial punch. He doesn't stop until Sam is unconscious and bloody.
Dean pants heavily, then he turns to me, a desperate look on his face. "What the hell is he?"
I wish I knew. I wish I could tell Dean that that is Sam, that he's just different. I wish I could say that it's some easy explanation that can be fixed with salt and iron. I wish I could tell him anything. But instead, I say, "Let's get him to the motel."
Been hyperfixated on Rick Sanchez lately...then saw the "Calling my husband without calling my husband" videos. Ya know, where the wife is like shouting, "OH NO MY SHIRT IS DIRTY LOOKS LIKE IM GONNA HAVE TO CHANGE..." and in comes husband to see. Yeah that's Rick Sanchez-
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A COMBINATION CHAPTER OF 18 MILES OUT AND JUDGE, JURY EXECUTIONER. If you or a loved one is having suicidal thoughts, please, it is okay to seek help. There is nothing wrong with needing help. In the United States, please text or call 988 if you need help.
Chapter Warnings: typical TWD violence, mentions to sexual assault, torture, self-harm/suicide attempt, mentions of stitches, Andrea is enough of a warning, a lot of time jumps, pregnancy talk, character death, Daryl is not in the first quarter of the chapter cuz he is not in 18 Miles Out, long chapter
1st Person POV:
The sound of chopping and juice pouring fills the Greene family's kitchen as Lori, Maggie and I prepare Beth's lunch. Lori is cutting up some chicken while Maggie chops cucumber and tomato. There's a comfortable silence besides the sound of food being made.
"Rick say anything to you about Glenn when they got back from town?" Maggie asks, breaking the silence as I pour juice.
Lori puts some of the chicken on the plate, silverware scraping the ceramic. "Just that it had gotten pretty bad."
"He's not the same. Says he froze. Blames me. Says I got inside his head." Maggie admits, setting her knife down.
"He did freeze, but he came back--that's what matters. But that's not your fault." I reassure as I steal a piece of the chicken still left on the cutting board.
"Men have to do certain things, you know that--" Lori adds, turning to grab a tray and then a napkin. "And they're either gonna blame the little woman as the reason they do 'em or the reason they don't. I'll tell you something-- what happens out there happens out there. And we--we're just trying to keep it together till they get back."
"Things were good. Maybe I--"
"Glenn's a big boy." Lori interrupts, taking a cucumber slice. "He makes his own choices, and then you--do you have anything to apologize for?" Lori takes a bite of the cucumber as Maggie shakes her head, and then Lori just shrugs.
"Tell him to man up and pull himself together. Just don't say 'man up.' It never goes well." I laugh softly, the other women joining me. "But at least, in the moment he thought he was in danger, he thought of you. Not coming back to you. He cares about you and that was about as good of proof as any."
Maggie stays quiet for a moment and then says, "Let me just get this to Beth." She starts to walk around the kitchen island to grab the tray before Lori stops her and grabs it.
"You go on--I got it." We watch as she walks away.
"Seriously, Maggie, he'll come around. He just got shook up, give him time." I reassure, and she gives me a small smile.
~~~~~~~
Later, I knock on the bedroom door and open it. Beth is sitting up in bed, the food untouched on the nightstand. "Couldn't eat a thing, huh? You're gonna--" I cut myself off when I realize that her eyes are glossy and she has tear stains on her cheeks. "Hey. I know how hard it is. I tried for days to reach my parents and get them on the phone." I walk over and crouch down next to the bed. "I can only assume--"
"It's just so pointless." She interrupts me.
"Oh. You have Maggie, and your father, Patricia and Jimmy. And us. And you've gotta stay strong, you're not alone in this, sweetheart. I wish I could promise you it would be all right in the end. I can't, but we can make now all right...I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."
She looks over at me with a sniffle, "Thank you."
I smile softly and nod, giving her hand a pat. "I'll be right back; I'll tell Lori you're ready for that walk." I stand up again, a hand on the bed for support before grabbing the tray and leaving the room to clean up the food. My bump is more noticeable, at least it seems to be every day. I guess it could still be passed as bloating though.
I walk back out into the kitchen, setting the tray on the counter. I take off the glass of juice and set it aside, then I pick up the napkin and fork. We gave her a knife too, right? Shit.
"Beth?" I call as I walk back into the room. She's laying down again, covered by a blanket. I look at the nightstand, seeing if it fell. Then I check the floor. Nothing. "You give it to me, sweetheart. You don't wanna do this."
She doesn't even look at me. She just grabs it from underneath the pillow and holds it out for me. I take it, a sinking feeling in my gut. I take the knife to the kitchen and then run out onto the porch, a hand on my belly as I run through the yard to the RV.
"Andrea!" I call to the blonde on watch. "Have you seen Maggie or Hershel?"
Andrea looks down at me and shakes her head, "I haven't seen Hershel, but I saw Maggie and Glenn walk by maybe 20 minutes ago."
"Can you find her for me? I gotta get back to the house." I request urgently.
The blonde seems confused but nods, "Of course."
Then I turn and run back to the house to keep an eye on Beth.
~~~~~~~
The muffled yelling of the Greene sisters now fills the kitchen. Andrea leans against the counter. I sit on a stool at the island, Lori making me sit after I ran out to Andrea. Said brunette sits on the counter behind me. We can't entirely make out what they're saying.
"Where's Hershel?" Andrea asks with a sigh.
"He doesn't want to find out yet." Lori responds as she picks at the food Beth didn't eat. Better than it going to waste. She hands me some of the chicken, which I gratefully accept. "It's a family affair. We'll let them work it out."
"That's working it out?" Andrea replies incredulously.
Lori hops down from the counter. "When Beth stops fighting, that's when it's time to worry."
"You are being so selfish!" Maggie yells from the bedroom.
Andrea sighs and shifts her weight, "This could've been handled better."
"How so?" I inquire, already preparing for whatever dumb shit she's gonna spew.
"You shouldn't have taken the knife away."
I look at Andrea like she grew a second head, while Lori also turns in shock. I stand up from the stool, unsure if I heard her right. "I beg your finest fucking pardon?"
"You were wrong, like Dale taking my gun. That wasn't your decision." Andrea doubles down, shaking her head. "She has to choose to live on her own. She has to find her own reasons."
I scoff slightly, "Want me to tie a noose for her?"
"If she's serious, she'll figure out a way."
"Doesn't mean we can't stop her or let her know that we care." Lori interjects, putting the leftovers in the fridge.
"That has nothing to do with it, Lori. She only has so many choices in front of her, and she believes the best one is suicide." Andrea continues.
The audacity of this blonde bitch. "That's not an option."
"Of course it is. She doesn't need to be yelled at or treated like a child." Her argument only gets dumber.
"She needs a loaded gun, right?" Lori retorts. "You'll understand if I don't send you in there."
"Let's not forget a loaded gun, your poor ass decisions and listening skills got my fucking husband shot." I sneer at Andrea, glaring her down with a look that could kill.
She looks absolutely offended, "That was an accident. And I came through it."
"And became such a productive member of the group." I let out a sarcastic laugh.
"Let Maggie handle this her way." Lori says finally.
"I contribute. I help keep this place safe." Andrea says. I can't tell if she's lying or that stupid enough to think she actually does something.
Lori huffs and throws a dish towel on the counter, "The men can handle this on their own. They don't need your help."
"I'm sorry. What would you have me do?" Andrea takes a couple steps forward.
"Oh, there's plenty of work to go around. You got two pregnant women doing your damn laundry along with everyone else's." I scoff.
"Are you serious?" She asks incredulously. "Everything falls apart, you're in my face over skipping laundry?"
Lori takes a breath, trying to calm the situation. "Puts a burden on the rest of us, on me, (Y/N) and Carol, and Patricia and Maggie. Cooking, cleaning and caring for Beth. And you-- you don't care about anyone but yourself-- You sit up on that RV, working on your tan with a shotgun in your lap."
Andrea's eyebrows raise in surprise at getting called out. "No, I am on watch against walkers. That is what matters, not fresh mint leaves in the lemonade."
"Do you even know what a walker looks like? You shot my husband! Not a walker. Be fucking for real." I retort. "And we are providing stability. We are trying to create a life worth living."
"Are you kidding me?" She asks.
Lori sighs again. "Look, I went after Rick. I took down two walkers--."
"After crashing Maggie's car--." Andrea interjects, speaking over Lori.
"--Don't act like you're the only one who can take care of herself--".
"- Ever apologize for that?"
"Crashing her--" Lori echoes, trailing off. "You're insane."
"No, you are. And you're the one that's self-centered, the way you take it all for granted. You both do." Andrea argues.
"My husband is out there for the hundredth time. My son was shot." Lori steps closer, getting in the blonde's face. "Don't you dare tell me I take this for granted."
"My husband nearly died finding a little girl he had zero responsibility over. He was half dead when he got back and you fucking shot him. I got pregnant right before the fucking apocalypse what the fuck could I be possibly taking for granted?" I add, pulling Andrea's shoulder to face us both.
"You don't get it, do you?" She addresses Lori first. "Your husband came back from the dead, your son too. And now you've got a baby on the way." Then she turns to me, "Your husband is still alive even after being shot and impaled on an arrow, you also have a baby on the way. The rest of us have piled up our losses-- Me, Carol, Beth-- but you two just keep on keeping on."
"We have all suffered." Lori retorts in almost a whisper.
Andrea just continues. "Playing house, acting like the queen bees, laying down rules for everybody but yourselves. You know what? Go ahead. Go in there and tell that little girl that everything's gonna be okay, just like it is for you. She'll get a husband, a son, baby, boyfriend." She eyes Lori specifically. "She just has to look on the bright side." Then she huffs and walks away, out of the kitchen, out of the house.
"Can I shoot her?" I ask Lori, tone soft but irritated.
Lori scoffs out a laugh. "Not in public."
~~~~~~~
The sound of banging catches mine and Lori's attention later. Lori opens the door to the bedroom Beth was sleeping in, "Maggie?"
Maggie wails on the door, "She's in there. I heard glass."
I rush forward, instructing Lori, "Go find Hershel, anybody. Now." She nods and runs out. I can hear Beth sobbing behind the door. "Beth, you all right?"
"Don't do this, Beth. Don't do this." Maggie pleads, yanking on the door handle. "Open up, please." More sobbing. "God, I left her with Andrea."
Fuck. That dumb bitch.
Objects clatter as she walks away to find a key. "Where's a key?" I ask.
"I don't know." Maggie then walks back over and tries the handle again. "Beth honey, please open the door. I'm not mad. I'm not mad, Beth."
I look over at the fireplace and go grab the fire poker. "Maggie. Hang on." She moves out of the way, and I jab the poker between the door and the frame. I grit my teeth and grunt as I use it to force the door open.
The door opens, and at first Beth has her back to the door. The mirror is shattered. Then she turns, holding her bloodied wrist as she cries, "I'm sorry."
Maggie rushes in, kissing her head and placing her hand on her sister's, now crying as well. "It's okay. It's okay."
~~~~~~~
As Maggie, Lori and I walk outside, Andrea is running towards us. The blonde stops at the base of the stairs, and Maggie stands in front of her on the last step.
"Where were you?" Maggie snaps.
"I heard. Is she all right?" Andrea ignores Maggie's question, countering with her own.
"She would be if you had stayed with her. Where were you?" Maggie repeats.
"How bad is she?" Andrea rewords her own question.
"It wasn't deep." I say from the porch, holding a rag with Beth's blood on it from me washing my hands. I kept the bleeding under control until Hershel could get there.
Andrea looks relieved. "She wants to live. She made her decision."
"She tried to kill herself!" Maggie retorts.
"No, she didn't."
"My father is stitching her wrist right now!"
"She'll live." Andrea argues, moving to go around
Maggie side steps her, blocking her path. "Stay away from her. From both of us. Don't you dare step foot inside this house again."
I can't help the smug look on my face. Fuck that bitch. Andrea turns and walks away, back towards camp. Lori stops Maggie as she goes to head inside. "I'm not gonna say she was right, but Beth has made her choice. She wants to live and now she knows it...And sometimes you have to cross the line."
Maggie disagrees, clearly, but doesn't voice it. She only hums in acknowledgement and goes inside.
~~~~~~~
3rd Person POV: The next day
Randall pants on the floor of the shed where he's handcuffed, sitting in a chair. His face is bloody, swollen. In front of him, Daryl paces with a look of pure hatred. Not necessarily at the kid, but the thought that Randall came from another group, a group that shot at his people, his wife. This was probably too personal for him to be assigned to do, but he could throw a punch and get answers without killing Randall, even if he wants to.
Daryl swings a right hook, knocking Randall out of the chair, the kid is sobbing. Another punch, causing a spatter of blood on the floor. And another punch, Randall spits blood out onto the wood. "I told you--"
"You told me shit!" Daryl yells, hauling the kid up by his collar and propping him up against the wall.
"I barely knew those guys. I met 'em on the road." Randall exclaims frantically.
"How many in yer group?" When Randall hesitates, Daryl pulls his knife out of his sheath.
Randall panics, "Uh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Come on, man."
Daryl lunges forward, stabbing his knife into the wood next to Randall's leg, "How many?!"
"Uh, 30-- 30." Randall stammers. "30 guys."
"Where?" Daryl presses.
"Uh..." Daryl rips the bandage off of Randall's leg, where (Y/N) and Hershel worked to make sure the boy kept his leg. Randall screams then answers, "I don't know. I swear. We were never anyplace more than a night."
"Scoutin'? Plannin' on stayin' local?"
"I-- I don't know. They-- they left me behind." Randall replies with a pleading tone.
"Did you ever pick off a scab?" Daryl asks, pressing the blade lightly into Randall's injury. He'd hate to undo what his wife did, and have her have to redo it, but he needs answers.
"Come on, man!" Randall begs, "I'm-I'm trying to cooperate."
"Start real slow at first."
"No." Randall grunts.
"- Sooner or later, you just gotta rip it off!"
"Okay. Okay." The boy relents. "Th-They- They-They- They have weapons--" He stutters, "Heavy stuff, automatics. B-B-But I didn't do anything."
"Your boys shot at mah boys, mah wife! Tried to take this farm. You just went along for the ride? You tryin' to tell me yer innocent?" Daryl asks disbelievingly.
"Yes!" Randall exclaims, panting through the pain. "These-- these people took me in. Not just guys-- A whole group of 'em. Men and women, kids too-- Just like you people. Thought I'd have a better chance with them, you know? But... We go out, scavenge-- Just the men. One night, we-- we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters-- Teenagers, you know? Real young. Real cute." He pauses, looking up at Daryl, the glint in his eye made Daryl want to kill him then and there. "Their daddy had to watch while these guys-- they-- And they didn't even kill him afterwards. They just-- They just made him watch as his daughters-- They just-just-- just left him there. No, but-but-- but I didn't touch those girls. No, I swear I didn't to--"
He gets interrupted by Daryl kicking him in the side, making Randall yelp, "Please. Please. You gotta believe me, man. I'm not like that. I ain't like that. Please. Please, you gotta believe me." Daryl kicks him again and he screams, before the redneck throws another punch.
~~~~~~~
1st Person POV:
Most of us are gathered outside in our camp, wondering what to do with the prisoner being kept in the shed. I don't like the thought of my husband in there with the kid, or the fact that he's having to torture for information. I get why, but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
"So, what you gonna do?" Lori asks as she pours water from a kettle on the crackling fire. "We'd all feel better if we knew the plan."
"Is there a plan?" Andrea chimes in.
"We gonna keep him here?" Glenn adds.
Rick hesitates briefly from his spot next to Shane; both are bruised and beat up. "We'll know soon enough.
Footsteps approaching has Rick jerking his chin behind me. I turn to see my husband, crossbow on his shoulder and knuckles bloodied. "Boy there's got a gang, 30 men." Daryl explains, stopping to stand beside me. "They have heavy artillery and they ain't lookin' to make friends. They roll through here, our boys are dead. And our women, they're gonna-- They're gonna wish they were." Then he looks at me, eyes furious and worried at the same time.
"What did you do?" I ask softly, shifting my weight as my eyes flick to the blood on his hand.
"Had a little chat." Is all he replies before putting his not-bloody hand on my back, guiding me back to our little camp aways from the group.
"You alright?" I ask once we're out of earshot from the others.
His hand stays on my back, like letting go means Randall's group will come in and make me wish for death. "I don't want ya anywhere near that shed, y'hear?"
"Didn't plan on it." I grumble in response, not liking being told what to do but also genuinely having no desire to see that kid's face ever again. As we approach our camp, I grab a rag and a water bottle, "Sit down." He hesitates. "Daryl." I say more firmly. He grumbles slightly but sits, offering me his hand. He winces as I wipe his knuckles. They were split open in several places; dried blood crusted over the skin. Though, it's obvious a lot of it wasn't his. "You got what info needed?"
"Enough." He says simply, jaw tight as I imagine that these cuts sting.
"Was he telling the truth?"
"From what I could tell."
I sigh softly and nod, just going back to cleaning his hand quietly.
"What?" Daryl asks, his tone edged with defensiveness, a reflex.
"I just don't like that you got hurt for it." I look up from his knuckles at his face.
His shoulders slump almost immediately, his eyes shifting from mine to my belly, his free hand coming up to touch it. "Don't matter."
"It matters to me." I argue gently.
"Nah."
I huff softly and roll my eyes, "Daryl--"
"It don't." He says more firmly "If me bustin' up my hands keep you and the baby safe then it don't matter."
My face softens, "You can't protect us from everything."
"Watch me."
I snort softly, gently squeezing his hand, being careful of his knuckles. He immediately wraps his fingers around mine. "We're okay." I mumble reassuringly. After letting the words hang there for a moment, I ask, "Do you think Rick should do it?"
Daryl doesn't answer right away, which honestly already answers my question, but I let him speak. Finally, he sighs, "Ain't my call."
"But if it was?" I press. I could basically see the war in his eyes. After spending so much time looking for Sophia, after almost dying to find her, then hearing about this kid's group assaulting some poor girls.
"He ain't innocent."
"No." I agree.
"He knows where we are."
"Mhm..."
"He gets loose, gets back to his people." His voice has changed, flat, matter-of-fact. "They come here." Daryl can see the anxiousness on my face at the thought of them showing up here, doing their worst. "Ain't happenin'." He reassures.
I take a breath, trying not to think about it. "Do you think Rick can live with it?"
Daryl's head turns, eyes drifting to the others at the camp, where Rick is deciding the fate of this kid on his own. "I don't know." He sighs softly, "If he does, he ain't gonna be the same after." I huff and shift, moving to sit next to him. My head plops on his shoulder and his arm immediately finds its way around me. "If it comes down to him or us...ain't even a choice." He mutters as his hand connected to the arm around me brushes over my belly.
~~~~~~~
Later, Daryl's getting ready to go hunt. He goes almost every day now to make sure I'm eating enough for myself and the baby. He's leaned over by the remains of the stone foundation over here at our camp, getting his crossbow loaded and ready while I fold our laundry I had done a couple days ago but never got around to putting away. I planned on taking a nap while he was gone after I'm done.
Footsteps make us both look up, seeing Dale walking towards us with a stick in one hand and his other supporting the rifle on his shoulder. Daryl just scoffs, "The whole point of us comin' up here is to get away from you people."
"Gonna take more than that." Dale replies, tossing the stick to our pile of firewood.
"Carol send you?" Daryl asks, not looking up, just gathering the arrows he made.
Dale shakes his head. "Carol's not the only one that's concerned about you, your new role in the group. Or your wife."
Daryl glances at the older man before going back to his business. "Oh, man, I don't need mah head shrunk. This group's broken. And mah wife's a big girl, she can go see y'all whenever she wants. Ain't keepin' 'er here. I'm better off fendin' for myself and mah family."
"You act like you don't care." Dale says, stating the obvious.
Daryl grabs his jacket, slinging it on his shoulders, "Yeah, it's 'cause I don't."
"So live or die, you don't care what happens to Randall?" The older man asks.
"He's a threat to (Y/N) and mah baby." My husband replies simply, putting his knife in the sheath on his hip.
"We don't know that." Dale argues gently.
"Didn't peg you for a desperate sumbitch."
Dale nods, "Your opinion makes a difference."
"Man, ain't nobody lookin' at me for nothin' 'cept mah wife." Daryl scoffs again, picking up his crossbow and walking towards the tree line.
"Carol is, and I am. Right now. And you obviously-- You have Rick's ear."
Daryl turns on his heel, getting defensive. "Rick just looks to Shane. Let him." Honestly, this drama is better than anything on TV before sometimes. Besides the whole 'this kid's group is a threat thing.'
"You cared about what happened to Sofia. Cared what it meant to the group. Torturing people? That isn't you. You're a decent man. You have a wife and a baby on the way." Dale says, gesturing to me where I've been watching this whole exchange. "So is Rick. Shane-- He's different."
"Why's that?" Daryl asks. "'Cause he killed Otis?"
Dale's face drops, like he received news he knew about but didn't want to actually believe. "He tell you that?"
"He told some story--" My husband explains. "How Otis covered him, saved his ass. He showed up with the dead guy's gun. Rick ain't stupid. If he didn't figure that out, it's 'cause he didn't wanna." Daryl turns and starts walking away again, "It's like I said-- Group's broken." Then he walks into the trees.
Dale sighs and looks over at me, "You don't think he should die too, do you?"
I can't help but sigh as well, "If we let him live, and I mean 'if', his ass needs to be 50 miles or more away from me and my family. I'm not risking everyone for some guy who was in a group of rapists. I met two of the, and all one talked about was wanting to get laid, Dale. Asked Rick if we had women specifically. I do not feel safe with him anywhere near here."
~~~~~~~
It's sunset when Rick has us all gathered in the living room of the Greene's farmhouse. The only people not in the room are Beth and Jimmy. Carl walks past, going to stay with Jimmy while we all hold this 'council meeting'. Daryl and I are right inside the entryway, he stands behind me, leaning forward with his hands on the back of the dining chair he made me sit in.
"So how do we do this? Just take a vote?" Glenn asks hesitantly from where he's sitting at the piano bench.
"Does it have to be unanimous?" Andrea adds.
"How about majority rules?" Lori counters.
Rick takes a step forward, taking charge of the discussion. "Well, let's-- let's just see where everybody stands, then we can talk through the options."
Shane shrugs, piping up from where he leans against the fireplace. "Well, where I sit, there's only one way to move forward."
"Killing him, right?" Dale shakes his head. "I mean, why even bother to even take a vote? It's clear which way the wind's blowing."
"Well, if people believe we should spare him, I wanna know." Rick argues gently.
"Well, I can tell you it's a small group--" Dale sighs. "Maybe just me and Glenn."
Glenn hesitates as Dale looks down at him, "Look, I-- I think you're pretty much right about everything, all the time, but this--"
Dale interrupts him, "They've got you scared."
"He's not one of us." Glenn protests, gesturing to the door. "And we've-- we've lost too many people already."
"How about you? Do you agree with this?" Dale asks Maggie, pointing at where she stands with his hat in his fist.
Maggie also hesitates, clearly not wanting to be put on the spot like that. "Couldn't we continue keepin' him prisoner?"
"Just another mouth to feed." Daryl says behind me.
"It may be a lean winter." Hershel adds. The weather has been getting colder, many nights now spent curled up under three blankets with my human furnace of a husband curled around me.
"We could ration better." Lori suggests.
"With two pregnant women?" I counter.
"Well, he could be an asset." Dale pipes up. "Give him a chance to prove himself."
"Put him to work?" Glenn asks.
"We're not letting him walk around." Rick retorts. This is getting nowhere.
"We could put an escort on him." Maggie proposes.
"Who wants to volunteer for that duty?" Shane asks sarcastically.
"I will." Dale says firmly.
Rick puts up his hand to stop this topic, "I don't think any of us should be walking around with this guy."
"He's right." Lori shrugs. "I wouldn't feel safe unless he was tied up."
"Me either." I agree, prompting my husband to put his hands on my shoulders instead of the back of the chair.
"We can't exactly put chains around his ankles, sentence him to hard labor." Andrea adds sarcastically.
"Look, say we let him join us, right?" Shane puts forward, his tone holding the same sarcasm. "Maybe he's helpful, maybe he's nice. We let our guard down and maybe he runs off, brings back his 30 men."
"So the answer is to kill him to prevent a crime that he may never even attempt?" Dale asks incredulously. "If we do this, we're saying there's no hope. Rule of law is dead. There is no civilization."
"Oh, my God." Shane grumbles with an eye roll.
"Could you drive him further out?" I ask with a sigh.
Hershel nods in agreement, "Leave him like you planned?"
"You barely came back this time." Lori argues gently, fidgeting with her necklace. "There are walkers. You could break down. Y-you could get lost."
"Or get ambushed." Daryl adds.
Glenn nods, "They're right. We should not put our own people at risk."
"If you go through with it, how would you do it?" Patricia speaks up from where she's standing in the corner. "Would he suffer?"
"We could hang him, right? Just snap his neck." Shane shrugs.
"I thought about that. Shooting may be more humane." Rick suggests.
"And what about the body? Do we bury him?" T-Dog brings up.
"Hold on, hold on!" Dale interrupts, his voice raised, "You're talking about this like it's already decided."
"You've been talkin' all day, goin 'round in circles. You just wanna go 'round in circles again?" Daryl sasses from behind me.
"This is a young man's life, and it is worth more than a five-minute conversation!" Dale exclaims. "Is this what it's come to? We k*ll someone because we can't decide what else to do with him? You saved him and now look at us. He's been tortured. He's gonna be executed. How are we any better than those people that we're so afraid of?"
No one speaks for a moment, the weight of Dale's words hitting all of us. Then Shane opens his fat mouth like always, "We all know what needs to be done."
Rick, however, was quick to shut that down, "No, Dale is right. We can't leave any stone unturned here. We have a responsibility--"
"So what's the other solution?" Andrea speaks over him.
"Let Rick finish." Lori cuts in. Oh my God these people are going to give me an aneurysm.
"We haven't come up with a single viable option yet. I wish we could." Andrea continues.
"So let's work on it!" Dale exclaims.
"We are." Rick says calmly.
"Stop it. Just stop it." Carol interrupts softly. "I'm sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn't ask for this. You can't ask us to decide something like this. Please decide-- Either of you, both of you-- But leave me out."
"Not speaking out or killing him yourself-- There's no difference." Dale argues, desperate and seemingly on the verge of tears.
"All right, that's enough. Anybody who wants the floor before we make a final decision has the chance." Rick offers, taking a step back.
It's quiet again. Maggie and Patricia sit back down while Hershel dips his head silently. Rick looks around, waiting for anyone to speak up. Dale fidgets with his hat before trying again, "You once said that we don't kill the living."
"Well, that was before the living tried to kill us." Rick counters.
"But don't you see? If we do this, the people that we were-- The world that we knew is dead." Dale's voice gets shaky, more desperate and pleading. "And this new world is ugly. It's...Harsh. It's--it's survival of the fittest. And that's a world I don't wanna live in, and I don't-- And I don't believe that any of you do." He then gestures to Daryl and I, then Lori. "Is that something you want to bring babies into?" He shakes his head. "I can't. Please. Let's just do what's right. Isn't there anybody else who's gonna stand with me?"
It's quiet once again. Carol wipes tears from her cheeks, and Dale's eyes shine. Then Andrea nods, "He's right. We should try to find another way." Shocking. Even Dale looks surprised.
"Anybody else?" Rick asks.
Not a soul speaks up, everyone looking at each other like they're waiting for others to do it first, bystander effect. Rick turns to Dale expectantly. "Are y'all gonna watch, too?" Dale asks incredulously, voice wet. "No, you'll go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget that we're slaughtering a human being." He shakes his head and blinks back tears. "Whoa... I won't be a party to it." Dale starts to walk out, pausing at Daryl and I. He puts a hand on my husband's shoulder and nods, "This group is broken." Then he walks out with the creaking of the screen door.
~~~~~~~
Crickets chirp around me as I walk from the farmhouse to mine and Daryl's tent. I wanted to check on Beth before I retired for the night. I haven't heard a gunshot, so I'm assuming Randall hasn't been killed yet or he was hanged. I barely pass the main camp when I hear screaming. The group behind me is up quickly. Rick yelling for T-Dog to get a gun. Lori telling Carl to go in the house and lock the door.
I run with the others, Rick has his gun out. Andrea yells for Dale when Rick opens a gate. Then we hear gut wrenching screams full of pain and agony. Then I hear my husband shout, "Help! Over here! Help run!"
We come up to someone laying in the grass. Dale.
He's covered in his own blood, his stomach torn open. Another body lays nearby, a walker.
"Oh my God." I mumble in shock, shrugging off Daryl's flannel I had been wearing over my long sleeve shirt. The cold bites at me even through the sleeves as I press the flannel against the wound, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Dale groans in pain over and over, his blood just seeps into the flannel, onto my hands and the bottoms of my sleeves.
Rick is next to me, trying to keep him conscious, "All right just listen to my voice. Listen to me all right?" Then he turns and screams for Hershel. Andrea's crying from Dale's other side, my own eyes blur with tears as continue my futile attempt to stop the bleeding. Dale is just suffering; there's nothing we can do. Even if Hershel operates, Dale needs what we don't have.
"What happened?" Hershel yells, coming down to kneel in Rick's place next to me.
Dale pants, in pain and gurgling. "Can we move him?" Rick asks in dispair.
"He won't make the trip." Hershel replies solemnly.
"We have to do the operation here. You and (Y/N). Glenn get back to the house--" Hershel cuts Rick off with a firm voicing of his name, then he shakes his head. "No!" Rick screams.
All we can hear now is sobs. Andrea, Lori, Patricia, Maggie, myself while Dale gurgles on his own blood. Glenn is crying too. Daryl comes around, wrapping me up in his arms, gently shushing me as he pulls me back, not caring that blood is all over my hands and arms. My shoulders shake with sobs.
Dale lets out another pained groan as he writhes in the grass. "He's suffering." Andrea says tearfully. "Do something!" Rick pulls out his gun, his chin wobbling a little as he tries not to cry himself. He points it at Dale's head. "Oh God." Andrea sobs, turning away.
Rick hesitates, unable to pull the trigger. Daryl gently passes me to Carol, who holds me just as tight if not tighter, before taking the gun from Rick. My husband points the gun at Dale, who is lifting his head towards the barrel as silent permission to end his suffering.
"Sorry, brother." My husband mumbles, then he pulls the trigger, putting our moral compass out of his misery.
The next chapter of Till Death Do Us Part is a combo chapter of 18 Miles Out and Judge, Jury, Executioner. I wrote out the 18 Miles Out portion, now starting the Judge, Jury, Executioner part.
