I know I have other stories and I will update them, but I wanted to start this so bad! AU, no zombies, just good ole bethyl. Here's the preface! Enjoy!

Preface:

Christmas. The one holiday besides Thanksgiving that Daryl Dixon, thirty eight years of age and not a title to his name, despised without any real reason. Perhaps it was the false sense of happiness everyone seemed to display for the few days it occurred. Or the mask of joy on the faces of people despite seeing those certain relatives they cared not to be a part of.

It didn't help that he himself had no family. Well, a brother, but Merle had another good eighteen months to his sentence and would certainly find his way back into prison one way or another. Sometimes Daryl wished he could join him. At least there'd be a bed and mediocre food to accompany it.

Atlanta, Georgia was lit up like an untamed wildfire as he made his way across the streets. He ignored the looks from passersby, knowing his rough exterior made the otherwise rich area look a little off. He didn't give a damn though. His stomach rumbled with merciless hunger and the man point of his journey tonight was to find something in the dumpsters that was at least to the level of sub par and not lukewarm.

That was one good thing about Christmas. One could always find a little something to consume. Whether it be from the soup kitchens-a place Daryl preferred not to go unless he had to-or the back alley dumpsters behind the Chinese restaurants that remained open, there was always a little something to be found. And found it had to be, the man couldn't remember when the last time he'd had something to eat.

Daryl walked on, hands shoved into his pockets as the cool, winter air blew against his bare arms. His vest provided little to no protection against the elements. But it was, at least, not too terribly cold in that part of the South. Pushing past a group of carolers, he made his way towards the park, deciding to perhaps take a rest before going much further. The muscles in his legs ached terribly and after being chased off by a few restaurant owners, he decided to wait until it was a little later to grab something to consume.

"Merry Christmas!"

He ignored the stranger's wish as he continued on. He didn't see the point in returning the expression if it were that far from the truth. There was nothing merry about his life. Odd construction jobs on the side, mostly with workers who couldn't speak a lick of English. The world was a tough place once you peeled back the layers of propaganda hope and faith left on the surface.

Trudging along, he entered the empty park, body bathed in the Christmas lights' illumination as he went. In the distance, he saw a few stragglers walking about. Couples arm in arm as they exited the only piece of true nature in the center of the city. He managed to find a bench, exhaling as he strode up to it. With a grunt, he settled down, the cool feel of the wood somewhat satisfying against his sore limbs.

"Merry Christmas," he muttered to himself, arms crossing over his chest. "And to all a fucking good night."

He allowed his eyes to close briefly, ignoring the grumble in his stomach as he settled back. Later, he promised, later he'd find something to eat. Maybe even take the damn soup kitchen up on their offer. They had beds, though Daryl was far from being social enough to sit at a table with a bunch of other "poor souls" as was the more considerate label.

As sleep began to wrap its tendrils around his tired limbs, a shrill cry of desperation immediately pulled the man from his impending unconsciousness. He sat up, eyes fixated on a far off corner of the park, further than any of the lights reached. Just barely, he could make out two forms struggling against each other. A taller one seeming to overcoming a shorter, thinner figure whose hair swished back and forth viciously.

"Not your problem," he mumbled to himself, preparing to lay back down when yet another shriek found his ears.

Daryl exhaled, mouth pressed into a firm, thin frown as he got up from his makeshift bed. Though he knew that there weren't really any good people left, himself being a prime example, he knew well enough that guilt and regret would find him eventually if he didn't aid whoever it was being attacked. Inhaling sharply, he hurried over to where the victim and the assailant were. Noting at once what they were fighting over. A bag of McDonald's.

"Hey," he barked, catching the taller figure off guard. "Let 'er go."

Without a word, the man scrambled backwards, letting the bag go which of course, caused the other-a girl from what Daryl could make out-to stumble backwards. He stepped forward, catching her as she fell. The bag crashed to the ground, stale fries and half a consumed burger scattering across the grass. Pushing the girl away, he stared at the wasted food, uttering to himself as the girl met his eyes.

"Thank you," she breathed. "He was tryin' to-"

"Whatever," he mumbled, turning away. She wasn't his concern now. "Enjoy your dirt."

"Wait," the girl called, Daryl exhaling as she hurried after him. "Wait, hold up! I..." she paused, her voice wavering. "My name's Beth! I...I don't think we were properly introduced..."

"Daryl," he mumbled. "Now if you'd leave me the hell-"

"Christmas," she interrupted. "My daddy...no one should spend it alone. Maybe," she bent down, grasping what was left in the McDonald's bag. "We could share?"

The corners of Daryl's mouth twisted into a dissatisfied frown. No matter what he said, or even did for that matter, going by how young the stupid runaway bitch was, she wasn't going to let him off easily. He merely shrugged, ignoring her relieving exhale as she trotted up to his side. It was going to be one hell of a long night. Merry fucking Christmas indeed.

Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated. Let me know if I should continue because I'm really debating it. If people seem to like it, I'll update again tomorrow. Until next time! -Jen