I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.

the-shrewd-ravenclaw: I don't know whether or not this is a good review; "perfect" seems to be used in negative connotations :( But I will say that I am glad that you are keen for this chapter and feel emotional towards my writing. Here it is :) Hope your feelings are okay now! I really appreciate the review.

FanFicGirl10: I know, I know, I'm sorry. It was actually kind of a spur of the moment thing. As I was watching the episode Judge, Jury, Executioner and that part where Carl goes through Daryl's things came on, I had to include it, and the part where Grace decides that what Dale is doing is completely useless. I saw the scene with Carl, and then was like "Hey, this is my story and I kept Sophia alive, I totally forgot," to which I decided to kill her off because it will also reinforce and fall into how Carl becomes such a little shit in season 3. Also, I don't really think it would be right for Daryl and Grace to play parent. I contemplated that, but then decided that losing Sophia and truly crushing Carol and turning her into the hardass bitch she is in season 3 was the right way to go.

southern hickup: I know, I'm sorry. But I felt like it was something I had to do for Carl, Carol, Daryl and Grace's character development. I'm glad you enjoyed it; I appreciate the review.

Please review. I really want to know if I'm doing a good job or not.

Executioner

Carol, Carl and Lori were upstairs in Hershel's room. Lori comforted both Carol and Carl, who was muttering about how it was all his fault. Lori wondered how it could even be his fault. Yes, his son had wandered off with Sophia, but she just guessed they were going to play somewhere still within their sight. The two weren't even gone for long. And the way Grace came running out of the forest screaming her head off was absolutely crazy. Why wasn't she watching then if they were all in the same spot? Grace was a bad egg in Lori's books. She was glad that her son came out unharmed and, although sad for Carol and Sophia, grateful to God that it was Sophia and not her baby boy. Lori's husband had almost been taken away from her and then her son almost got taken away twice. She didn't know how much more she could take. In any case, one question came to mind: why the hell didn't Grace stop this from happening?

The group was on edge about the whole Randall situation. Daryl wanted him dead and gone but knew others in the group would have a problem with that solution. The way Grace was just moments before made him wonder about how she'd be when she woke up. Sad as she was then, he imagined her being angry as all hell when she woke up, especially if she spoke to Lori. Daryl saw the sheriff's wife shooting her accusing looks before the hunter picked her up and put her to bed. He knew he despised her for a reason. She was so quick to put the blame on someone else. Olive Oil should have been watching her own damn kid, not putting it on someone else as soon as something goes wrong. Carl wasn't Grace's responsibility; not now, then or ever, and Grace needed to be told that.

Rick walked in the front door and leant against the ugly, regal looking sofa. Andrea and Shane were standing together, obviously. The two must be fucking; Andrea has been with him non-stop. T-Dog was just standing next to Shane with his shoulders slumped. The Greene family sat on the couches nearest to each other. Glenn sat on the stool in front of the unused piano while Dale leant against it.

No one looked like they wanted to be there at all. Their faces were riddled with sorrow and regret, Shane looked impatient and Daryl was angry. He had to tell Grace that it wasn't her fault that those two little idiots went into the forest alone and got attacked by Walkers. It wasn't her fault. Because of them he'd have to hunt for the next two days to keep their food supplies up. Stupid snot nosed punks, thinking that they own the world.

"So how do we do this? We just take a vote?" Glenn asked gently, looking up at Rick from the stool.

"Does it have to be unanimous?" Andrea asked.

"Let's just see where everybody stands. Then we can talk through the options."

"Yeah, well, way I see it there's only one way to go forward," Shane said. There was no question to what he meant.

"Killing him," Dale was already pissed off, "Right? I mean, why even take a vote? It's clear which way the wind's blowing."

"If people believe we should spare him, I want to know."

"Well I can tell you it's a small group; maybe just me and Glenn."

Glenn looked up at Dale awkwardly and Dale's expression dropped, "Look, Dale, I... I think you're pretty much right about everything all the time but this–"

"They've got you scared!" Dale almost shouted.

"He's not one of us and we've..." Glenn almost trailed off, "we've lost too many people already."

Dale was unpleasantly surprised. He'd just about had enough of how everyone was treating this boy. Randall could be spared! But everyone just wanted him killed. It was completely inhumane. He looked to Hershel and recalled their conversation that morning. "How about you? Do you agree to this?"

Maggie's jaw clenched but she looked stressed. "Can't we just continue to keep him prisoner?" She asked.

"That's just another mouth to feed," Daryl said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It may be a bad winter."

"He could be an asset. Give him a chance to prove himself."

"Put him to work?"

"We're not letting him walk around."

"Put an escort on him," Maggie suggested.

"Who wants to volunteer for that duty?" Shane asked, clearly unamused.

"I will," Dale strongly declared, his dislike for Shane seeping into his tone.

"I don't think any of us should be walking around with this guy."

"Well we can't exactly put chains around his ankles and sentence him to hard labour."

"Look," All eyes on Shane, "Say we let him join us, right? Maybe he's helpful, maybe he's nice. Maybe we let our guard down and he runs off and brings his thirty men."

"So the answer is to kill him to prevent a crime that he may never even attempt? If we do this, we're saying there's no hope. Rule of law is dead; there is no civilisation."

Nobody missed Shane's annoyed and impatient oh my God. Daryl frowned and clenched his bruised fist. If only he could hit Shane square in the nose.

"Could you drive him further out and leave him like you planned?"

"You barely came back that last time," Glenn pointed out, "there could be Walkers, a car could break down or you could get lost."

"Or ambushed," Daryl interjected.

"We should not put our own people at risk."

"If you go through with it," that older blonde lady spoke up for the first time, "How would you do it? Will he suffer?"

"We were gonna hang him," Shane looked to Rick, "snap his neck."

"Yeaaahhhhh, I thought about that. Shooting may be more humane."

"What about the body?" T-Dog asked, "What do we do with that?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold on just a minute!" Dale waved his hands about so everyone would stop talking. "You're talking about this like it's already been decided."

"We been talkin' all day," Daryl said though a clenched jaw, looking up at the old man from under his lashes, "We're goin' 'round in circles. You just want to go 'round in circles again?" Daryl was getting real sick of hearing this old man talk.

"This is a young man's life! And it is worth more than a five minute conversation." The room was silent. "Is this what it's come to? We kill someone because we can't decide what else to do with him? Rick, you saved him! And what for? Now look at us: he's been tortured, he's going to be executed. How are we any better than those people we're so afraid of?"

Guilt. Guilty faces everywhere. But it still felt like the right thing to do. Daryl knew it was what they had to do for the safety and survival of the camp. The room was quiet for a long time and everyone stared at the ground.

"We all know what needs to be done," Shane declared; his voice oddly soft but laced with irritation towards the old man.

"No, Dale's right; we can't leave any stone unturned. We have to take responsibility."

"So what are we going to do then? We haven't come up with a single viable option yet. I wish we could and–"

"So let's work on it!" Dale felt like screaming and almost did.

"Stop it," A small voice broke through the yelling. Daryl's stomach dropped when an exhausted looking Grace stepped in through the door with a tired look on her face, "I'm so sick of everyone fighting about this. Just stop it. None of us asked for this. You can't ask these people to decide something like this, with their stupid 'humanity' and 'morals'. All of that shit is dead and gone, just like just about every human being in this world. The kid's a threat, Dale," Grace declared, staring daggers at the old man. Grace wanted to have a say in the matter. She wasn't just going to be left in the . God was she sick of him standing up for that monster, "Are you really willing to risk your life and the lives of others just for one stupid kid? Because if you are, you're a fucking idiot with no morals yourself. You're a part of this group, which means you have to protect it. Standing up for this kid is doing the opposite of that. You may as well put a gun to my head and pull the trigger yourself."

Holy shit. The room was silent. Daryl looked at Grace in a whole new way. This dark side of her never came out when he was with her, or anyone else for that matter. It's all Randall's fault. She beat the shit out of him and now she was acting all weird. Fuck. She went to speak again but Rick cut her off.

"Alright, that's enough! Anybody else want the floor before we make a final decision has the chance."

A long silence blanketed the house. The Greene's sat. Most people stared at their feet. Grace stared exhausted daggers at Dale. Rick and Daryl looked around for anyone to say anything but it was pointless. It was over. But Dale kept trying when no one else would.

"You once said that we don't kill the living."

"That was before the living tried to kill us."

"But don't you see that if we do this, the people we were, the world that we knew is dead!"

"It died when people started coming back to life, Dale." Grace said firmly. When would he fucking stop? It was over.

"Well this new world is ugly; it's harsh, it's survival of the fittest. And that's a world I don't want to live in. I don't believe that any of you do; I can't believe it. Please," Dale sounded like he was about to cry. Grace's jaw clenched as she snapped back into reality, her stomach dropped. Why did she have to say all of that? This man had been nothing but kind to her and she just tried to crush him into the dirt. Shit fucking fuck. She felt like a monster. "Let's just do what's right. Is nobody else going to stand with me?"

"He's right; we should try to find another way," Andrea suggested.

"Anybody else?"

Nothing.

Dale scoffed, tears in his old, tired eyes. Grace couldn't look away from them. "Are you all going to watch, too? Oh no, you'll all go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget the fact that we're slaughtering a human being. I won't be a party to it."

Dale trudged past Daryl and stopped next to him, placing an old hand on his shoulder, "You're right," He turned back to Grace, "This group is broken."

Grace and Daryl shared a look.

...

Shane, Rick, Daryl and Grace walked to the barn. Randall wasn't blindfolded and gagged, but his hands were tied up behind his back which provided Grace with comfort. Daryl pushed him along the dirt path towards the barn. Grace didn't feel as satisfied as she normally was when he whimpered and was scared. Now she didn't know what she felt. Randall was a threat; a dog that had to be put down, it was what they had to do. No doubts about it. There was no way she was going to sit in her tent and try to hide from it all.

Daryl kept shooting looks at Grace, concerned for her. Why the hell did she even want to do this? Sophia had been killed today and she was clearly at war with herself about how she felt towards Dale. One minute she's happy with him and helping him clean the RV, then she's barking at him to shoot her in the head and then she's all sad and quiet when he almost let the waterworks break standing up for this punk.

"Hold on, wait nononono hold on," Randall tried to get out of going into the barn but no one had a bar of it. They were sick of the shit this kid had caused – albeit inadvertently – with the group and it was time for him to go. Dale would never forgive Grace for what she said or this, but she could live with that.

Rick opened the door to the barn and was cautious before he went inside, even though everyone knew that no one could have been inside. The day they opened the barn and killed Hershel's friends and family still haunted Rick and plagued him with guilt. Daryl pushed Randall forward as Rick walked inside. Grace and Shane followed suit.

"Put him there," Rick instructed, placing the lantern on a hay bale. Daryl obeyed.

"Wait, no, wait, wait, please wait," Randal begged, but to no avail. No one was listening to him. He was done for.

Shane went behind Randall and tied a blindfold around his eyes. "It'll all be over soon," he said quietly, as if trying to reassure Randall that he wasn't going to be executed. It was all pointless.

"Why? What's going to be over soon?"

"Relax," Shane said, tying it tightly.

"Hey, wait no, wait," Randall almost started crying. Shane just shhh'd him as Rick grabbed the gun from his waist. Randall suddenly realised what was happening and started begging and protesting even more. Shane just kept trying to shush him but it wouldn't work.

Daryl moved next to Grace, whose expression was angry. Her thin eyebrows furrowed into a small frown and her jaw was set, her red lips a flat line. On second thoughts, she didn't look angry, she looked perplexed by an unknown question she couldn't answer. Grace shouldn't even be there; not after what had happened already that day. Her hands hung at her sides and she hunched over slightly, completely exhausted.

Grace's eyes opened a little, snapping with attention, when Rick raised the gun to Randall's head. Daryl grabbed her hand, hoping it would reassure her that everything would be okay. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and gave him a small smile before lacing her fingers between his.

"Would you like to stand or kneel?"

Randall started begging again and didn't look like he was going to make a decision. Daryl took his hand back and went to the prisoner. Daryl put his hands on Randall's shoulders and kicked at the back of his knees, causing them to jerk forwards and for him to fall. Daryl grabbed a handful of Randall's hair and pulled his head back, hearing him cry out in pain before letting it go and resuming his position beside Grace. He folded his arms over his chest. Randall started crying. It wasn't amusing to either hunter anymore.

Rick and Shane shared a look for a long time before Shane nodded.

"Do you have any final words?"

Randall cried and begged some more. What a waste of oxygen.

"Do it, dad," Everyone turned to see Carl, sniffling with red eyes, standing at the door to the barn, "Do it. He's a bad man. His people hurt Sophia."

Sophia. Oh God. Grace's head started spinning, filled with the children's screaming and crying and yelling. She swallowed hard and blinked back stinging tears. Daryl grabbed her hand again and pulled her towards him as Shane made his way over to Carl. "Are you kidding me? What did I say to you? What did I say to you?" Shane grabbed Carl's arm and dragged him outside.

Rick lowered his gun.

Grace let out a short breath and Daryl sighed.

"Take him away. Just take him away."

Daryl grabbed the sleeves of Randall's loose shirt and pulled him to his feet. "Get up." Grace followed Daryl out. Shane slammed his fist into the open barn door and stalked off, fuming.

So after all that, they didn't kill him, because a stupid little kid said shit and wanted to watch. That little kid is fucked up. Grace frowned and sighed, silently seething at the pointless conversation – or rather argument – everyone engaged in that evening. Grace's words had proved to be useless and hurtful now. They'd decided on Randall's fate, shitting on Dale's beliefs and morals, and for what? For a dumb little kid to fuck it all up. Dale won. He'd be happy knowing that Randall wasn't going to die. For now, anyway. Grace wanted him to die and would do it herself if she had to. Hopefully it would never come to that.

They made it to the smaller barn and Grace opened the door for Daryl to shove Randall through. He was in there long enough to handcuff him to the wall. Daryl leant forward and untied the blindfold. He looked Randall in the eye, the usual scowl set on his face. "You're one lucky son of a bitch." Randall looked up at Grace with wide eyes and started thanking the hunters. "Shut up."

Daryl discarded the blindfold at the door and closed it behind him. Grace sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "What happens now?"

Daryl started towards the camp, walking beside Grace. "I don't know. Rick will decide on somethin' tomorrow. We just gotta get through the rest of today." He sighed. "It's not your fault, y'know."

"What?"

"It's not your fault that Sophia got scratched."

"Oh... Yeah, but–"

"No buts, Dwyer. It ain't your fault. Period. If those kids hadn't been out by themselves in the forest without their mama's eyes on them, then they wouldn't have gotten themselves into that mess. It had nothin' to do with you. You just happened to find them when the damage was already done; ain't nothin' you could have done about it, so quit beatin' yourself up."

Grace was quiet for the rest of the trip, which was fine with Daryl. She was letting his words sink in.

They had just made it back to the fire when they head the screaming. Dale's screaming. Everyone ran in the direction of the noise, but no one could keep up with Grace. She ran as quickly as she could, long strides, her boots slamming into the damp earth. She whipped her knife from her hip and held it tight, knuckles white and aching.

No, no, no. Please God, no.

Grace pushed the metal gate out of the way and she cursed because it made her slow down. The cries and yelling got louder. Grace thought she heard someone yelling his name, but she couldn't quite tell from the whistling in her ears. There were little balls of light moving quickly from the house and yelling that got louder. Hissing and deep throaty croaks were the only things that she could hear when she got close to Dale. Then his shrill, terrified scream.

Grace was too late.

Daryl shot out in front of her and tackled the Walker off Dale, almost causing her to trip. Without missing a beat, as Grace dove for the Walker, they simultaneously dug their hunting knives into its head.

Daryl got up straight away and checked Dale. His skin was split in half and his organs were revealed. Daryl couldn't imagine the pain the old man was in.

"Here! Help us! Over here! Help us!" Daryl cried out, waving his arms in the air, screaming as loud as he could. He knelt down at Dale's side but didn't know what to do. He could hear Grace crying and stabbing the Walker over and over again, yelling in frustration.

The squelching of its skull collapsing more and more with every stab didn't satisfy her. It wouldn't until Dale was okay. Over and over, stabbing it in the head, until her knife was taken from her and strong arms wrapped around her small frame. She screamed in protest and kicked and flailed.

Everyone had made it to Dale at that point. Rick knelt before his older friend and put his gun away, taking Dale's head between his hands, whispering reassuring words. Shane ran his hands over his head and cursed. Andrea started crying. Glenn's heart dropped. T-Dog did his best to hold Grace and keep her from hitting him or falling out of his grip, trying to sooth her. Dale just writhed on the ground in pain.

Andrea knelt down to her old friend and Rick demanded that someone get Hershel. It's too late. Daryl and Grace knew it was far too late to save their old friend. There would be two funerals tomorrow and no one would be okay.

Grace wriggled out of T-Dog's grip and fell to Dale's side, next to Daryl, grabbing Dale's hand in both of hers. The African-American man didn't try to stop her. Grace cried, begged him to be okay. He looked up at her with wide eyes, gasping for air that he couldn't breathe.

Hershel arrived. Pointless. Their friend was gone. There was nothing they could do.

Rick suggested moving him.

No, no they can't do that. He wouldn't even make the trip. Pointless. He was dead and gone. The Walker opened him up, ripped him open like a kid opening their birthday present with malicious intent to destroy whatever was inside. He hated seeing everyone like this. Especially Grace, who took this the hardest.

Crying. Grace just kept crying. Why did that fucker in the barn have to live while Dale had to die after attempting to save his ass? This was not fair. It shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have happened.

Daryl had to end it. End his suffering. That's what he would want. That's what they all wanted. No one wanted to see their friend in pain.

Carl recognised the Walker's body, the bite marks and scratches. The face was unrecognisable. But he knew it well enough to start crying and run into his mother's arms. This was his fault. Sophia, Dale. All his fault – he knew it.

Rick knelt down again, revolver in hand. Daryl held out his hand and shook his head, placing his palm up for the gun. Rick handed it to him.

Daryl held the gun at Dale's head. Dale looked into his cold eyes and pulled his head up to push his forehead against the barrel.

"Sorry, brother."