God Almighty, this idea kept me up half of the night! I just felt so strongly about it, I was practically dreaming about it. It's my first Bethyl AU, hopefully y'all like it.

Here goes nothing !

Song credit - Blues, You're A Buzzkill - Pistol Annie's

How To Save A Life

Chapter One - "11:26 PM"

Each year when the summer rolls into the town of Riverdale Georgia, one could argue that the heat radiating from the sun in the afternoon sky would make just about anyone think that they were beginning to lose their mind; And when that summer heat did in fact roll around, usually during the final weeks of March, it brought equally horrendous thunderstorms right along with it.

Being that this particular evening was well into the month of July, it was no surprise that the sweltering heat from the day had worn off, and the evening storm that had been brewing in the distance had begun to blanket itself over the town of Riverdale.

This day, just like the ones before, began just as any other ordinary day would have.

The sun would rise early on into the morning just as alarm clocks would begin to go off, the residents would then likely turn on the weather channel or the local news, perhaps have a cup of coffee or two before beginning their day, even.

The small shops off of the Georgia 85 highway would open, The yellow school zone lights of Lake Ridge Elementary would begin to flash around 8:30, and a certain Riverdale resident by the name of Daryl Dixon would arrive at Merle's Auto Garage for work just as he did the day before at 9:00 sharp.

That's how things always were, and that's how things had been for a very, very long time.

With that being said, the only difference between this day and all of the days before for Daryl was the string of events that followed immediately after his dashboard clock had struck 11:26 PM.

"Go fuckin' figure." Daryl muttered under his breath, reaching blindly at the passenger side floorboard for some sort of cloth to wipe the fog off of the inside of his windshield.

As if driving in the rain wasn't hard enough, the windshield was fogging as the cool air on the outside of the truck fought for dominance against the heat that had been trapped on the inside of the vehicle; It had sat in the parking lot all day while Daryl worked, in direct sunlight as it was assaulted for hours by the relentless Georgia heat.

And if that wasn't bad enough, his old and worn out windshield wipers weren't helping the situation at all. It was clear that it was becoming damn near impossible to see anything in front of him.

He then found himself suddenly regretting his earlier decision of going to the bar to throw back a few beers when his shift had ended. His alcohol induced haze was only making him frustrated and it was making the situation at hand even more difficult.

But at the same time, Daryl Dixon being intoxicated behind the wheel of an automobile was not anything out of the ordinary.

Truth be told, drinking wasn't a new concept to Daryl. Not in any way, shape, or form.

Alcohol laced evenings at different bars in town after work were incredibly frequent to him, and usually the nights would start before the sun even went down just as his brother and himself clocked out of work.

These said nights usually dwindled down in the early hours of the next morning, most of the time consisting of copious amounts of cheap whiskey, endless bottles and cans of Budweiser, sex with a nameless and blurry faced woman, and where Merle was concerned - drugs.

When Daryl managed a brief glance at the dashboard radio's digital clock, and saw that the current time was only 11:26 PM, he really came to realize just how different things had become. Lately things just weren't the same anymore. Not after the morning following New Years Eve. After he had found Merle deceased on the bathroom floor from an apparent self-induced yet accidental heroin overdose.

He couldn't remember the last time he had left a bar on a Friday night as early as he apparently had this particular night. And he sure as hell couldn't remember the last time he ended up not completely shit faced drunk and completely inebriated on a Friday night, either.

So, almost as if it were a Dixon family ritual, rather than simply coming to terms with and dealing with the death of his brother like a normal fucking human being, he turned to the bottle in a pathetic attempt to solve his problems, and chase away these new demons as well as the old ones.

"Good evening Riverdale, hope everyone's enjoying their Friday night! We have quite the storm going on right outside of the studio right now," The voice from the radio chimed it's way through the static and into Daryl's ears.

"Stay dry everyone!"

Daryl crinkled his nose in annoyance, still leaning over his center console with only his left hand gripping onto the steering wheel, hoping he had a shop towel laying down there in the mess of cigarette boxes and empty beer cans.

"As always, thank you for choosing 107.9 Real Country, and here is your number one requested song of the evening; Blues, You're A Buzzkill by Beth Greene."

At that sentence, Daryl narrowed his eyes and glared at the dashboard radio as if it had insulted him. The last thing he needed right now was having to listen to some hoity-toity blonde chick singing about her ex-boyfriend or some stupid shit along those lines. He could kick himself for even turning the radio on in the first place, mostly because it seemed as though every time that he did, he ended up stuck listening to this fuckin' Beth Greene creature.

"That's right, Darcy!" A male voice chimed in right after, "Her show at the Georgia Dome in Atlanta last night was absolutely incredible! I have to say, Darcy, I was impressed."

Must be nice, Daryl thought bitterly just as his hand somehow managed to locate a shop towel buried underneath the passenger seat.

He shook the dirt off of the cloth and reached up to begin wiping the condensation away from the glass as best as he could. Once he managed to wipe most of it away, he realized fairly quickly that even though the fog problem had been resolved, he still had to strain eyes in a feeble attempt to focus on the road in front of him.

His knuckles were beginning to turn white as he tightened both hands around the steering wheel, all the while feeling himself become more and more agitated as the minutes passed.

The fact remaining; he still couldn't see a god damn thing.

After pressing himself forward and closer to the steering wheel in yet another desperate attempt to see the road ahead, he was suddenly way too aware for his liking, and current mood for that matter, of the voice of the young singer as it flowed through the speakers.

"Jack Daniels can't swallow you whole. Hey, Blues, you're a tough act to follow."

"Ain't no needle that can kill the pain that I feel, no smoke can clear all this air. Hey, Blues nothing comp-"

Daryl smacked his hand on the power knob of the radio with yet another pointed glare at the thing, effectively cutting off the singing that was irritating the hell out of him.

At that very moment, the flooded area around the gutters on the side of the road pulled the truck's right side tires towards the concrete sidewalk a few feet away. The truck veered to the right and the front wheel came into contact briefly with the curb on the side of the road.

He jerked the wheel to the left, trying to get the truck back between the white lines of the road while his right foot pressed itself on the break pedal by reflex.

As the vehicle slowed down, he groaned loudly as he started to come to the realization of what had just happened. He listened to the all too familiar and dull hissing noise as the front right side of the truck dropped ever so slowly.

He blew his fucking tire.

"Mother fucker!" He hissed through his clenched teeth, slamming the gear of the truck into park; And as fate would have it, only then did the torrential downpour slowly start to subside. Of fucking course, he thought as he angrily grasped the door handle and pushed it open, now it stops raining.

"Jesus Ch- perfect. Fuckin' perfect!" He all but shouted, kicking the deflating rubber of the damaged tire with the front of his work boot repeatedly.

He suddenly felt like he was on fire, a furious and absolutely livid rage taking over him as he continued his assault on the inanimate object, shouting obscenities to the truck and to the sky, letting loose his frustrations, alternating between his left and right foot to hit the damn thing over and over again.

After a few minutes of meaningless physical exertion, he tore himself away, running his hands through his hair that was completely soaked in sweat, pacing momentarily until he found himself pressing his head and his hands to the metal of a guard rail.

He winded down from his outburst slowly; Attempting to even out his breathing pattern, calm the hell down and collect himself. After a few deep breaths, he let himself lift up his head to take the time to asses his current surroundings, realizing only then just where he was at exactly.

He was at the bridge of Emerald Creek, standing on the old and narrow structure that was above the little body of water and surrounded by a dense and heavily wooded area that he usually hunted in, only two miles away from his house, give or take.

With an exasperated breath, he forced himself to walk over to his passenger side door for his tool kit, knowing he still had a spare tire in the bed of the truck for this very reason. He reached his hand out towards the rusted metal of the door handle, but retracted it, turning himself to face the wooded area and the creek when some sort of muffled noise caught his attention.

He wasn't sure at first exactly what it was. Aside from the few noises coming from the woods that consisted mostly of shrubbery being jostled back and forth by the wind, and the noises of the nighttime insects, he heard nothing out of the ordinary. He shook his head, briefly entertaining the thought that he was just starting to hear things.

He reached for the door handle again, yanking it open and retrieving the tool set and the manual jack from underneath the seat, slamming the door back again.

That's when he heard it for the second time, but unlike last time, he was able to make it out.

"Help.."

A weak voice was coming from the distance, and he wasn't exactly sure where from. He dropped the tools to the ground and walked over to the railing of the bridge. He stuck his head out and over the side of it, searching the river on the right and the left, scanning his vision over the wooded area until he cast his eyes slightly downwards.

He felt as though someone had knocked the wind right out of his chest as his eyes locked on the mangled black and silver metal off to the side and below him. The structure of the bridge made it so that the car was completely out of sight of the road, had Daryl not have blown his tire and stopped, he was almost certain he wouldn't have seen it, and would have just kept on driving.

"Help.." The strained female voice repeated.

The voice was clearer this time. Still weak and frail sounding, and by the looks of what was left of the vehicle down there, he was surprised that whoever was down there was even alive.

He jerked his head to the left as he tried to figure out what to do, his eyes then locked on a set of clear skid marks on the pavement that curved back and forth until they disappeared off and into the grass. The ground was covered in tiny Shattered fragments of glass, almost glittering in the reflection of the moon in the sky.

His initial thought was to just leave. He thought about just changing the tire and taking off. He thought for a moment that whoever was alive down there probably should not have survived anyway, and he thought for a moment that it'd probably be best to just leave well enough alone.

But he couldn't do it. A small voice of reason in the back of his head that he very rarely took into consideration simply wouldn't allow him to.

After a long moment of feeling as though he was frozen where he stood, he finally picked up his feet, almost tripping over himself a few times as he made his way to the vehicle that rested at the bottom of what might as well have been a ravine.

He dropped to his knees on the ground as he approached the side of the contorted car, trying to speak the words that had managed to somehow become lodged and strangled in his windpipe.

"Are ya alright?"

Daryl fought the urge to slap himself across the face, instantly regretting his incredibly shitty choice of words the second they came out of his mouth. Seriously? Of course she's not fuckin' alright! His mind all but screamed at him.

"Oh-oh thank God," the woman said softly, sounding somewhat relieved even though it was clear to him that she was having difficulty breathing. Her words sounded strained, and her breathing was almost as ragged as his had been just a few moments ago.

Daryl clamped up again, unable to find the right words to say, honestly not trusting his voice at all to speak to the woman who he wasn't even sure would survive whatever the hell had happened to her and the car she seemed to be trapped inside of.

The car had somehow managed to have come to a complete stop in the upright position, all of the tires seemed to have been destroyed or ripped completely off and the roof of the car had been crushed downwards. The side mirror was nowhere to be found, and the glass of the drivers side windows, along with the windshield were completely blown out. But those things were not the most concerning to him, what was though, was the front end of the car itself.

The front end of the car was crushed in so badly that he wasn't even sure where the inside of the car started or where it ended. Daryl had seen cars come into the repair bay at his work completely totaled much like this one before. Usually front end damage to this extent was almost always fatal to the driver of the car, the force of the impact would send the engine and other parts of the front end into the cab of the vehicle very quickly and very roughly.

On his hands and knees, he crawled over to the woman, peering through the space where the window used to be, tentatively moving pieces of debris out of the way as easily as he could manage to.

"What happened?" He asked as he pulled a large chunk of the grass that had somehow managed to get stuck in there out of the opening, slowly focusing on what appeared to be one of her limbs, whether it was her leg or her arm or something else entirely, he wasn't exactly sure.

"I-I- I don't know, it was raining and I lost control of the car and I spun out." She said, hissing as something unknown to him made her cry out painfully. "I don't remember anything after that," another pained groan escaped from her mouth, "I must have blacked out"

Daryl took a deep breath, trying to remain as calm as he could for her, but he couldn't help but start to feel like he was about to lose it, finding himself unable to stop his hands as they shook uncontrollably.

"What hurts?" He asked, pulling a piece of un-identified metal out, now able to make out that the part of her skin that he had seen in fact was her arm, pale and marred with small streaks of blood running all the way down to her fingertips.

"My head," she groaned, "Jesus Christ, my head. My side too- it-it- feels like it's on fire. Oh my god." The finality of her sentence became lost and incoherent as she sobbed. If Daryl wasn't already uncomfortable and about to lose it before, he definitely was now. He'd never been good with people who cry. Women, children, customers, you name it. The only thing stopping him from running at that very moment was the fact that he couldn't see her face and she couldn't see his, as it seemed to be blocked by some of the debris lodged inside the car.

He couldn't tell this woman she was going to be okay, mostly because there was no way in hell to know if she was making it out of this alive. In that moment, he was regretting the fact that he didn't own a cell phone because calling 911 was probably this girl's best shot at surviving this.

"Girl, listen to me." He said, pulling yet another piece of mangled metal out of the car. "I ain't got no phone, I'm gonna go up to my truck so i can get ya some help, I can't get ya outta here alone."

"No! Please don't leave me here alone!" She cried, her small arm reaching out blindly at him until it came into contact with his wrist and she grabbed it as tightly as she could manage to.

"The engine's wrapped around ya, I can't get ya out of here, not by myself." He said with an exasperated and shaky breath, hoping she would agree. However, it didn't have its desired effect because she only responded by gripping his wrist even tighter.

"It's dark-I-I can't see anything. Please don't leave me alone down here, please." She pleaded, desperately begging him to not go.

As it were, he didn't have many options to choose from on where to go from here. He could either go up and change the tire on his truck so he could drive and get her some form of help, or he could stay with her until another car came down the road.

Option number one wasn't any more appealing than option number two, mostly because if he did decide to leave her here and she succumbed to whatever injuries she had sustained from this crash, the girl would die alone and in the dark, terrified.

That notion alone brought Merle's face into his mind, knowing that his brother had died that way. Alone. That wasn't something he wanted for anyone to have to go through, let alone this poor woman, even though he didn't know who she even was.

"Alright." He reluctantly agreed, noticing that the grip on his wrist relaxed ever so slightly at his words. He dropped his head down, shifting to lean his back against the metal of the car.

"Thank you." The woman sniffled quietly, dropping her hand away from his wrist. "I'm Beth."

"Daryl." He offered in return, running one of his hands that continued to shake through his long dark hair.

He knew what she probably wanted to hear. It was likely something along the lines of that she'd be okay, or that he was going to help her get through this, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't bring himself to lie to the girl and promise her something that he wasn't sure was even going to happen himself.

"Stay awake, Beth." He replied finally, "Ain't gonna leave ya here alone. I ain't goin' nowhere."