A/N: Variations on this have been done before, but this story's a bit unique in that it's going to put a lot of focus on the hows and whys of Daryl's connection to the MacManus brothers. It might not just be a random coincidence this time through! Also, this story was started about a year ago, at the beginning of season three, but characters and information gained throughout that season will be incorporated into the story, so even though this takes place between seasons two and three of The Walking Dead, spoilers through season three are included.
Summary: Following the events of the season two finale, the survivors of Hershel's farm have spent months on the run, just trying to survive the long winter. When they encounter a half-delusional stranger with skills to spare, the group must decide whether it's worth the risk to keep him around. But what is the stranger's connection to Daryl, and how does this all relate to the brother the man believes himself to have lost?
Pairings: More or less canon
Warnings: Violence and profanity in keeping with the source material.

Trinity
The three shall spread their blackened wings and be the vengeful
striking hammer of God. – The Boondock Saints

Prologue

They had been chosen to bring order into a world of chaos. They hadn't realized just how demanding their calling would become.

Murphy let out a whoop of triumph as another demon fell, the handle of his bowie knife protruding from its skull. He flashed his brother a grin, which went totally unheeded, before stepping forward, bracing his foot against the creature's back and dragging the weapon out.

It was raining across the slick tile floor, blood tinging the puddles a pale pink.

"That's eight," he shouted over the sound of the spray. "How many a those fuckers we see outside?"

Connor, head bent and whispering into his cross, didn't respond right away. While he waited, Murphy took the opportunity to impale a shambling demon that had finally noticed the commotion and made its way over from the Bed and Bath section to try for a bite. Kissing the wooden cross, Connor rose from his knees, peering around the room at the fallen.

"Was seven, wasn't it?"

"If it was seven then why'd I get nine, genius?"

Connor shrugged faintly, tucking the cross back under his shirt.

"We," he corrected, "got nine. And I took the first five, so unless my math's a bit off, that'd mean I got one more than you, doesn't it, baby brother?"

Murphy shot Connor a look that suggested he would've cuffed him if they'd been standing in arm's reach of each other.

"Shut it, that's only since you made me track down the fucking sprinkler system." He leaned down, wiping his knife clean on the last demon's jeans absently, before rising. "You really think it's going to count, anyway? Blessing sprinkler water?"

Connor shrugged again faintly, eyes flicking across the bodies.

"Best we got these days, isn't it? Not these people's fault that demons made 'em rise up after death. Least we can do is try and purify them, send 'em on in peace." Fuck, Murphy hadn't been off on his count. They'd gotten a good enough look at the pack on the street before deciding to draw the fight inside, and there'd definitely only been seven. Which meant either another group of the things had come shambling up Main Street awfully quick, or this store hadn't been as empty as they'd hoped. It was a dark building and they'd stayed toward the front. Who knew how many more were hiding out in a back room or up a random aisle in the darkness?

Murphy, meanwhile, had made his way over to the register halfway up the aisle, and had started searching around for a key in the counter.

"Well, now that we're in a store we can restock a bit, aye? Though I've got to say, still feel strange about taking them. Theft from a public place… edge of the line a bit, isn't it?"

"Shopkeepers all long gone or dead." Connor had drawn out his gun, eyes flitting toward the darkened back of the store. It seemed to stretch back forever all of a sudden, shadows swallowing the space like a physical presence. It was a huge outlet; who knew how far back it stretched? It'd been a mistake to come in here.

"Murph, leave it this time alright? Let's just get out of here."

"What, you late for an appointment or something? Hold on, I got the key."

"Murph…"

"Look, you're right, I know. Their souls still deserve rest, and it's hardly stealing if money's not a matter to this world anymore." The sharp jangle of the register opening made Connor wince.

"The blessed water'll do with these. Let's go."

Finally, Murphy seemed to pick up on his tension, looking up with a frown.

"Fuck's wrong with you, Conn? We're not just to-"

And then he froze, eyes going huge, and Connor knew he'd guessed wrong. The darkness ahead hadn't been the thing to fear.

"Conn, move!" He dove forward without thinking, even as Murphy drew his gun and started firing off rapid shots toward the entrance behind him. Murphy wasn't a poor shot, and Connor knew even before looking that they were dealing with more than a lone threat.

He managed to hit the ground in something resembling a roll, and twisted back to his feet already firing. At some point, maybe hearing the sprinklers or the pair's own shouts, what looked like at least a dozen demons had found their way to the shop's entrance.

"Christ," Murphy wasn't smirking now, voice tight with concentration as Connor continued to back up to get in line with him. "Like a fucking tour bus unloaded here. Where'd they come from, anyway?"

"More worried about our new exit strategy." Connor risked a glance toward the back. Fucking stores, never thought to stick in a window. The back was completely shrouded, but there were more crowding in on the entrance every second and they didn't exactly have infinite ammo.

"Well, you're the master planner, brother. Plan."

"You only say that so that I can get blamed when you find yourself eaten." Connor's first gun clicked empty. Murphy laughed; it sounded thinner than usual.

"I'm just thinking about your scrawny hide. Don't go getting yourself bitten and making me shoot you." His next shot yielded a useless click, and he cursed. "We moving then or not?" Connor gritted his teeth.

"We're moving. Stay close, and listen for breathing."

And they fell backward into the darkness as the horde swept in.