I have not abandoned Apocalyptic Love, I just want that one to stay somewhat cannon, and since we haven't seen what's happened to Beth, or Daryl yet, I don't want to update it. So, hopefully this will tide you over until I can update it.


Daryl followed Joe and his group back to the abandoned building they were calling home for now. He looked around and sighed. Holes in the walls, ceiling, rats running around. He'd rather be back at the morgue with Beth and dead bodies.

Beth…Daryl wasn't giving up his search for her in any way. He was going to find her, but right now, he wasn't any good to her. His legs were still burning from running all night. He was too damn weak. He needed food, water, and sleep, then as soon as he got the chance, he was going to sneak away. He knew Beth was still alive. He refused to believe anything else. She was strong, and she'd wait for him to come get her.

"Think fast." Joe threw a water bottle at him and despite being so exhausted Daryl caught it with ease. "We got an extra spot you can sleep in," he informed him, indicating to the empty sleeping bag. Daryl wasn't stupid enough to ask about the previous owner. Instead, he grabbed the sleeping bag and pulled it over to his own space.

Daryl drank half of the water bottle as he watched the men in the group. They all looked like they had fleas. While using his hunting knife to open an can of peaches he'd been saving for a long while now—he'd planned on giving them to Beth—he watched as Joe and two other men walked into a side room. What are they hiding? Daryl was about to get up to investigate, but Joe came back out and Daryl decided not to push his luck.

He climbed into the sleeping bag, his hand wrapped around his knife across his chest, his other hand on his crossbow. He may have come back to this shit hold of a base camp, but he was a long way from trusting anyone. He closed his eyes, hoping sleeping would drag him down instantly, but he wasn't that lucky. An image of Beth, sitting at the piano and singing came to him instead. His gut clenched as he thought about he. It was his fault she'd been taken. He should have followed her out of that damn window. He didn't know what he was thinking. Now, he didn't know where she was, all he knew was that he needed to find her.

He rolled onto his side and tried to push the picture of her from his head. In the morning he'd go hunting, get what he needed, and slip away without anyone noticing he was gone. He was going to find Beth, even if it was the last thing he did. Daryl wasn't a man of faith, and he wasn't stupid despite being a high school dropout. He knew there was something there between himself and Beth, but he wasn't about to call it love, not yet. He saw what that did to Glenn and Maggie. But, he knew Beth meant more to him than a friend, or a little sister. He was a sick son of a bitch if he ever acted on it, being nearly twice her age, but in the world they lived in now? Hell, age didn't matter two shits anymore.

He sighed and closed his eyes, letting sleep drag him down, vowing that the next day he'd slip away from the group of men that had surrounded him and continue his search for Beth. And if she was hurt? Nothing was going to protect the sick sons of bitches who took her.


Beth hurt. He whole body was covered in bruises, cuts, and scrapes. It had been days since she'd seen Daryl—at least she thought it had been. Her sense of time had gotten so screwed up. She didn't even know if Daryl was still alive. All she knew was fear, pain, and desperation. The men who had kidnapped her had brought her back to the abandoned building they were calling home and had chained her to a pipe, given her a dirty mattress with broken springs to sleep on, and had cut away all of her clothes. They'd given her a threadbare blanket, but it didn't keep out the cold or the wet. She was always cold, always shaking, always hurting. She was afraid she was running a fever.

The heavy door opened, flooding the dark room with light, causing a broken whimper to fall from her lips. She coward in on herself, shivering and fearing what they would do to her next. Joe crouched in front of her with an evil smirk on his face as he looked her over. She'd given up trying to hide her body from him. "You're losing weight," he commented as nonchalantly as if he were discussing the weather. He reached out and patted her leg. "We'll have to bring you more food."

"W-why?" she managed with a dry throat. "You're just going to kill me."

Joe and the two men who'd entered the room with him laughed. "Kill you? Sweetheart, do you know how hard it is to find an attractive woman during this apocalypse? We're going to keep you around as long as we can." He stood up and looked at his men. "Do what you want, but remember, keep her quiet."

Beth didn't fight when they approached her. She didn't fight when they stuffed an old rag into her mouth. She didn't fight as their hands touched her body. She didn't fight as they spread her, impaled her, violated her. She didn't have any fight in her anymore. She wished they'd just kill her, it would be kinder. Sadly, she knew they weren't kind, and she knew Joe had told the truth, they would keep her around as long as they could, just so she could satisfy their needs. They would bring her food, and she would eat it. They would keep her hydrated, and they would keep her healthy enough to do what they wanted her to do and she wouldn't fight anymore.

Her only saving grace was that these men didn't seem to have any stamina. It was over quickly, and they would call her names, pull the rag from her mouth, and leave her alone in the dark. Except, today, one of them made a comment about some kind of initiation that was going to take place later, she figured they'd found someone else to join their group, and she was the initiation rite. Once the door slammed shut behind them she curled in on her side and let the tears fall from her eyes, keeping the sobs shaking her shoulders silent. She wanted Daryl; she wanted to be wrapped up in his arms, safe somewhere, alone. They'd only had that one night, but she knew that something between them had changed, and then she was ripped away from him. Her crying got harder as she thought about him and how much she missed him. Alone, in the dark, she sent up a silent prayer to a god she didn't think was listening anymore.


Daryl picked up the rabbit and pulled the arrow from its body. "I've been out here since before the sun came up." This dumb redneck was pissing him off.

"You see, the rules of the hunt…don't mean jack out here." Daryl rolled his eyes and threw the arrow into the woods. "Now, that rabbit you holdin' is claimed…boy." Daryl was starting to get pissed off. He wasn't a boy no more and this dumb ass was looking to get his ass kicked. "Claimed. Whether you like it or not. So, I is you, I'd hand it over. Now. Before you get to wishin' you never even got outta bed this moning."

"It ain't yours," Daryl growled looking him dead in the eyes. He'd had enough of this backwater fuck.

"You know, I bet…there's a bitch, got you all messed up." That froze Daryl in his tracks. He glanced back at him. "Hmm? Am I right?" Daryl reigned in his anger and started to leave again, but that stupid ass couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Got you walkin' around here like a dead man, who just lost his self a piece of tail. Must have been a good'n." This dumbass was pushing his luck. The loss of Beth was still fresh, and he still wanted to get away to find her.

Fuck this idiot. Daryl thought, his hand going to the knife on his hip and flipping open the strap holding it in place, his hand palming the cool metal. He was giving the dumb redneck one more chance. "Tell me somethin' was it one of the little uns? Cause they don't last too long out here." That was it. No one talked about Beth that way. Daryl pulled the knife from its sheath and turned, swinging on the dumbass. What he didn't know was that they weren't alone. He was ambushed and tackled to the ground, three of Joe's men on top of him.

Daryl swore at them as they dragged him back, unarmed to the base camp. Joe was waiting for them with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. They threw Daryl into a circle, all of them surrounding him. Joe went on, talking some bullshit about rules. "Alright boys, let's initiate him." Joe stepped back as someone punched Daryl in the gut, he doubled over, the air forced out of his lungs.

He fought them off the best he could but when it was five against one, the odds weren't really in his favor. Before they were done, he had a few broken and bruised ribs, a busted lip, a black eye, and a few other bruises and cuts. He was kneeling on the ground, coughing and spitting up blood. "You're doin' good son," Joe said as he walked off. "We just have one more thing for you to do." His voice got louder the farther he got. Daryl heard a door open and then it was quiet. Daryl stood up on shaking legs, holding his side that had been kicked until his ribs broke. He looked over to the open door and watched Joe back out, his vision swam, running red as his heart stopped in his chest and his stomach wretched.

Joe was dragging Beth, naked, her hands tied together with a zip tie, and an old, dirty rag in her mouth to keep her quiet. Her body was covered in dirt, blood, bruises, cuts, and things Daryl didn't want to think about. She looked over at him and he nearly died. There was nothing left in those eyes. That fight that he loved about her, that kindness…it was all gone. Her eyes were just empty. She stared at him, and Daryl ran to her, pulling her into his arms.

"So you like this one?" Joe asked, smirking as he watched Daryl cut her hands free. "I'd be careful if I were you, she's a scratcher."

Daryl looked at her and slowly eased her down to the ground. Joe stood behind him. Daryl risked a glance over his shoulder. He was going to have to be quick. Fighting against the pain, Daryl spun on his heels and pulled Joe's gun from his holster and shot him in the dead. Without thinking about anything other than protecting Beth he started to pick off the others, one by one. They got smart quick and before he'd taken down most of them, they started firing on him, but they were shit shots. From Joe's dead body, Daryl pulled the knife and threw it, sinking it deep into the skull of another man as he shot the last two.

He was panting, the red in his vision starting to fade. "D-Daryl…" He grabbed the cleanest blanket he could find and dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapping it around her body. As soon as she was covered he picked her up and carried her over to his sleeping bag.

He didn't say a word to her, what could he say? He was sorry? What good would that do? It wouldn't erase what had happened to her. Hell, he couldn't even look her in the eye. He emptied his bag out onto the ground and started pulling out what medical supplies they had. "Not enough," he mumbled, mainly to himself. He got up and walked over to the dead men's bags, empting them and taking what he knew they would need, medical supplies, food, water, whatever they had. He'd check the bodies later.

Daryl knelt down in front of Beth again and started washing her body first, staying away from sensitive areas that would have her pulling away from him. He'd turn her back and let her handle that later. He carefully washed her legs, her arms, never straying too close. He washed her neck, her shoulders, her face. Without asking, she turned around, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders so he could wash her back. Once he had her somewhat clean, he handed her the rag he'd been using and started to turn. Beth reached out and grabbed his wrist, panic lining her blue diamond eyes. "Don't…please."

Daryl frowned. "I ain't goin' nowhere sweetheart, just, finishin washin' so I can take a look at you're wounds."

She looked down, reject in those eyes, but she nodded. Daryl turned his back, and he'd wished he'd left the room. He could hear her washing her body; he could hear the whimpers as she went over those sensitive areas that had been abused. It made him want to kill those fuckers all over again. When she told him she was done, he turned back around and knelt in front of her again.

He looked at her wrists first; they were raw and red from the ropes and zip ties that had been bound so tightly around them. He growled and looked around in the medical supplies. There wasn't much there that was going to help. He settled for just wrapping them, hoping to keep them clean. He then started cleaning the cuts on her arms and legs and shoulders. He put medicine on them and cut bandages from gauze. He found some salve to put on her busted lip and he frowned as she winced. "I'm sorry baby girl," he whispered, looking her over to see if there was anything else he could do for her.

Seeing that there wasn't anything else he could really do for her, Daryl stood again. "I'm gonna see if I can find you clothes." He started looking around. It didn't surprise him that there wasn't anything in her size or any girl clothes at all. He found something in the smallest man's bag and brought it back to her. It wasn't going to be flattering, but at least she could cover up until they could find some more clothes. He brought the sweat pants and hoddie back to her and turned his back again as she dressed. He heard the whimpers she tried to swallow as she stood and lifted her legs.

He wasn't expecting it, so when her tiny arms wrapped around his back, he jumped. "I'm sorry, I just…" He turned around and pulled her against him, holding her close. She didn't need to be explaining herself to him. He held her for a long time, and didn't care that she needed it, because honestly, he needed it too.

"C'mon, let's get you outta here." Daryl packed up his bag with everything he could fit in it, grabbed everything he could off the dead men, and scooped Beth up into his arms. There was no way she was in any condition to walk. He carried her out and gently put her in the car. He drove away and followed road signs to a town. As soon as he came across a store that sold women's clothes, he parked. "Stay here; I'm gonna go clear it." He grabbed his crossbow and walked up to the doors, opening them and looking around. Once he'd cleared it, he went back to the car and gently picked Beth up, and took her inside. "You see somethin' you want, you let me know," he told her as he carried her around the clothes.

He stopped when she told him to, held her while she looked through the clothes she liked, looking for her size. When they got to the bras and panties, Daryl hid the blush on his face under his long hair and tried not to pay too close attention, but when she picked up a sexy red number with black lace…his heart skipped a beat and a heat he hadn't felt in a while stirred inside of him. Get a hold of yourself Dixon, the damn girl's just been raped. Once she had everything she wanted he carried her to the dressing rooms and gently set her down. "I'll be right outside."

He walked out of the room and left Beth to change in peace, without his eyes. He was trying to prepare himself for what was going to happen. He'd never had to deal with a woman who'd been raped before, tears made him uncomfortable, but…this was Beth. He wanted her to feel safe; he wanted to see that smile on her face again. He was just afraid how long he was going to have to wait until he saw it again under her broken halo.