The house was a blue, single-story, three bedroom with a fenced in backyard. After some debate, it was decided that Anna would take the master while Jessie took the second biggest room. The third room would act as an office.

The siblings didn't have much to take to the house – most of their belongings fit within a backpack each. The furniture, the decor, the books – all of it was already set up, collecting dust. When Anna and Jessie found the photos of the family that had intended to make this house their home, they collected the pictures and hid them away in a box in the attic. They didn't want to think about the concept of living someone else's life.

Alone in her room, Anna plugged her dead iPod into the outlet to the left of her queen-sized bed, before falling into the dark blue armchair in the corner beside the window and dumping her pack on the matching ottoman.

As she sorted through her stuff, Anna tried to ignore the ache in her chest. Daryl was supposed to be with her. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Distantly, she heard a knock at the door, and after a moment Jessie greeting whoever had come calling. Then he yelled her name and, reluctantly, she rose to her feet and made her way to the front of the house.

Standing at the front door was Spencer, holding a box. "Hey Anna," he grinned. "How are you two settling in?"

Anna approached, returning his smile as she took up the space beside her brother.

"It's a nice house," she said. "What's with the box?"

"Oh, my dad wanted to give you these," he said, passing the box over. "He put some empty journals in there, and he found a voice recorder for you," he explained as Anna peered inside at the contents.

"Tell him thank you," she instructed, her smile widening at the gift.

"You can tell him yourself," Spencer corrected. "Mom is throwing a party for you guys tonight. You should come."

"I—uh," Anna stuttered, about to tell him how much parties weren't her thing.

"We'll be there," Jessie interrupted. "Thanks."

"Great, I'll see you then," Spencer said, nodding as he left them.

Anna clenched her jaw as she turned to Jessie and glared at him.

"Why the hell did you say we'd be there?" She demanded.

"Because, we should go," he said, shrugging as he shut the door.

"You can go – I don't want to," she hissed, storming off towards her bedroom. He followed after her.

"You can't shut yourself in your room just because you broke up with your old ass boyfriend," Jessie huffed.

"We didn't—" she snapped, whirling around in a fury before pausing to collect herself, her chest heaving. "We didn't technically break up," she insisted. "We're just… I don't know," she muttered, deflating.

Jessie sighed, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I know it may be hard, but you shouldn't shut yourself out. Hell, this is probably a good excuse to get your mind off of it. And besides," he said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly, "as the newly appointed Historian, you need to meet the rest of the towns folk."

Anna took a deep breath, seeing that he had a point. She needed to establish a rapport with the people of Alexandria if she was going to have any chance of doing her job. And maybe a party would help put some things into perspective.

"Alright," she sighed. "I'll go."

.

.

Daryl listened to the rustling of leaves and the snarling of a single walker as it approached.

"I don't see it," he called back to his companions. "But it's close. There's just one of 'em," he informed as he joined Rick and Carol.

"We won't be here long," Rick assured. "So, what do you think?" he asked, turning to Carol.

"We can go in when it's empty," Carol stated.

"How is that? It's locked up at night," Rick countered

"The window. There's just a latch. I can leave it open," Carol said.

"A latch?" Rick asked, incredulous.

"Yeah," Carol said.

"What if one of those pricks shuts it?" Daryl asked – for whatever reason that he didn't want to admit to, Spencer Monroe's face surfaced in his mind at the mention of said pricks.

"Wait a couple of days, leave it open again," Carol offered.

The walker's snarl sounded again.

"It's getting closer," Daryl huffed.

"We need to do it sooner than later. Right now, they're not watching us. Not worrying about meetings like this," Rick said, hands on his hips. "We may need the guns, we may not."

"We will," Carol insisted. "Whatever way it goes."

"They're the luckiest damn people I ever met," Rick sighed. "And they just keep getting luckier."

"How's that?" Daryl asked.

"We're here now," Rick said.

"They've got a couple of footlockers just full of 9 millimeter autos, Rugers, Kel-Tecs. Just tossed in there," Carol continued. "They don't use them. They're never gonna know they're gone."

"Someone's got one now, right?" Daryl asked, looking to the pile of junk beside the rundown house where Rick had stashed a 9mm in a blender before the group arrived at Alexandria. Said gun had since disappeared.

Rick hummed, irritated by its disappearance. "Listen, the others, we want them to try."

"You, too," Carol said, shooting a look at Daryl.

"So we keep it quiet. Just us," Rick said firmly. "Here it comes," he said, nodding to the walker as it appeared from the woods.

"I got him," Daryl said, lifting his crossbow over his head.

"Hey, wait," Carol called, stepping forward. She shot a few rounds into the walkers torso before finally putting a bullet between its eyes. "We said you were taking me out shooting," she explained as she turned back to the confused men. "I couldn't go back with a full mag."

"Lucky he came by," Daryl said.

"We should get back," Rick declared. "You'll pull the latch; we'll pick our moment. Us? We don't need to be lucky," he said as they walked around the junk pile and over to the walker.

Daryl furrowed his brow as he caught sight of something.

"What the hell's that?" he asked, leaning down to move the walkers head. "Is that a W?"

They stared at the W carved in the walkers forehead and turned to each other.

"Let's get back," Rick repeated, his eyes scanning the area for threats.

Carol nodded, and the three started for the gates before Daryl split off.

"Where are you going?" Carol asked after him.

"Huntin'," he said.

"Hey, wait," Carol said, walking over to him. Rick paused not far off – still in ear shot – watching their surroundings. "What's going on between you and Anna?" She asked. "She and Jessie moved into the new house – why weren't you with them?"

"She don't need me," he grunted, not looking at his friend.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Carol pushed. "Did something happen?"

"Don't matter," Daryl replied gruffly, turning and walking away. "I'll be back 'fore dark," he threw over his shoulder, leaving no room for further discussion.

.

It felt good being outside the walls. He didn't feel so trapped. Not quite so lost. Outside, he knew what he was doing, who he was, and what he wanted. It was simple. He could focus on the hunt and not on the way his gut wrenched when he saw Anna walk with that damn pretty boy.

Leaves rustled and Daryl whirled around, his crossbow loaded and ready to fire.

"Come out," he demanded. "Now!"

Aaron came stumbling out of a bush, hands up and a rifle dangling from his shoulder. Daryl lowered his bow.

"You can tell the difference between walkers and humans by sound?" Aaron asked, amazed. "Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn't seem to be an expert at that."

"There ain't much of a difference no more," Daryl grumbled.

"That how you feel about your people?" Aaron asked.

Daryl bristled and took a threatening step towards the man. "Why you followin' me?" he hissed.

"I didn't know I was. I came out to hunt rabbits," Aaron explained. "I know why you're out here," he said. "Mind if I join?"

Daryl glared at the unassuming man with his stupid checkered shirt.

"Keep up," he snapped, turning and walking away. "And keep quiet."

The two continued in silence. Daryl kept his eyes on the trail he'd picked up, but his mind wandered, Anna's words echoing in his head.

"Or can I say there's an 'us' anymore?"

He knew he should have said something – at the very least, not walked out like he had. He also knew, however, that if he had said anything their argument would have ended a lot worse than it had. As it stood now, Daryl had no idea what was going on and he couldn't bring himself to find out.

Daryl meant what he said to Carol; Anna didn't need him – she hadn't for a while. She could take care of herself. On this side of those walls, Anna didn't need him, she wanted him. On the inside, though he'd be loath to admit it, Daryl felt like he was being left behind.

Spencer's constant presence didn't really help either.

Daryl's attention was pulled by the nicker of a horse. He and Aaron carefully made their way through the brush until they came upon a clearing. Standing in the tall grass was a solid black horse.

"I've been trying to catch him for months," Aaron said, pulling his pack off his shoulder. "Bring him inside. His name is Buttons."

Daryl furrowed his brow at Aaron.

"One of the kids saw him run by the gate a while back. Thought he looked like a Buttons," he explained. "I haven't seen him for a while. I was afraid it was too late. Every time Eric or I come close, he gets spooked," he said, taking a long coil of rope out of his bag. Daryl took the rope from him. "Have you done this before?"

"My group did. But they weren't out there long," he said, adjusting the rope in his hands, and suddenly he remembered Joe.

"...ain't nothin' sadder than an outdoor cat that thinks he's an indoor cat."

"The longer they're out there, the more they become what they really are," he said, approaching the horse slowly. "I ain't gonna hurt ya," Daryl said, his voice low. "Alright? Come on, boy. Yeah, just keep on eatin'. Yeah." he clicked his tongue. "Good boy. Yeah, you used to be somebody's, huh?"

"Or can I say there's an 'us' anymore?"

"Now you're just yours."

A twig snapped, and the horse reared back as walkers came stumbling out of the trees.

"Shit!" Daryl snapped as the horse ran away. "Come on, they're comin'," he called to Aaron, dropping the rope in favor of his crossbow.

They made quick work of the walkers before Daryl snatched the rope and they took off after Buttons.

.

"You ride horses?" Aaron asked as they pushed their way through the woods.

"I ride bikes," Daryl huffed.

"I take it you don't mean 10-speeds," Aaron muttered. "I know you're feeling like an outsider," he started. Daryl rolled his eyes. "It's not your fault, you know. Eric and I, we're still looked at as outsiders in a lot of ways. We've heard out fair share of well-meaning, but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise really nice men and women," he said. "People are people. The more afraid they get, the more stupid they get. Fear shrinks the brain. They're less scared of me because they know me. It's less and less every day," he assured. "So, let them get to know you. You should go to Deanna's party tonight."

"I got nothin' to prove," Daryl grumbled. "I met a lot of bad people out here doin' a lot of bad shit. They weren't afraid of nothin'."

"Yeah," Aaron sighed. "They were."

Roughly thirty minutes later, Aaron and Daryl came upon a disappointing scene; Buttons struggling to escape a circle of walkers. He was cornered, trapped between the dead and a barbed wire fence with no room to jump.

They watched helplessly as the walkers pulled the horse to the ground and tore into him.

Daryl winced at the way the horse cried out in pain, but there was nothing they could do except end things quickly.

"I got the ones on the right," Daryl said as he pulled his knife from his hip.

The two pulled the walkers off the horse and rammed their blades into their skulls until there were none left. Buttons' breathing was ragged as he tried to lift his head. Aaron approached him, rifle in hand.

"Go on," Daryl said when Aaron hesitated.

Finally, Aaron aimed and pulled the trigger.

.

.

Anna flattened out the skirt of the floral dress she'd found in the back of her closet. The sky was dark out and the party – which was more of a get-together – was in full swing. Anna nursed a glass of bitter wine as she half-listened to Mrs. Neudermeyer carry on about a pasta maker.

Jessie had managed to escape the conversation by joining the others as they gathered in front of the fireplace, laughing and joking about anything more interesting. Sasha had stormed out not long ago, but that hadn't deterred Mrs. Neudermeyer in the slightest. The woman wasn't so much monopolizing Anna's time as she was holding it hostage.

Frustrated, Anna opened her mouth to politely inform Mrs. Neudermeyer that she could not give less of a fuck about a pasta maker. She was cut off, however, when Spencer Monroe appeared at her side.

"Hey, Anna, I need your help with something – sorry Mrs. Neudermeyer, urgent stuff," he said, smiling apologetically at the older woman.

Mrs. Neudermeyer gave a knowing smirk between the two of them before winking at Anna, as if she knew something Anna didn't. Spencer steered Anna away from Mrs. Neudermeyer and led them through the kitchen and out to the back porch.

"Thanks for showing up when you did – any longer and—" she cut herself off, shaking her head.

"It's alright. She's obsessed with getting a pasta maker," Spencer said.

"Did you know there are three-hundred and fifty types of pasta? That's one for every day of the year," Anna said, more than a little sarcastic.

Spencer laughed and Anna took a sip of her wine, chuckling lightly to herself. She glanced around the backyard, noting how they were completely alone. Her thoughts immediately went to Daryl and how he had essentially accused Anna of being romantically involved with the pretty boy.

She shook her head, insisting to herself that it wasn't like that. Spencer was just being kind in showing her around Alexandria and making her feel welcome.

Anna suddenly realized that Spencer had said something she hadn't been paying the least bit of attention to. She focused on what he was saying, hoping that she'd catch up in the conversation.

"They'll be back in a few days," he said. "Maybe they'll have a pasta maker."

"I'm sorry, who?" Anna asked, feeling a little bad that she had no idea what he was talking about.

"It's alright. I was just saying the other scavenging group should be back in a few days. Hopefully, they'll have found a pasta maker so Mrs. Neudermeyer can finally stop talking about it," he explained.

Anna sighed, "I have a feeling even after she gets the pasta maker she's going to keep talking about it."

"Well, it's not very interesting around here. When I'm on watch," Spencer said, shaking his head. "I can barely focus, it's so boring."

"I enjoy watch. It's useful and gives me some time to myself," Anna sighed.

"I don't like being alone," Spencer admitted.

"I guess I'm just used to it," Anna muttered as she sipped her wine.

"Maybe you can join me on my shifts sometimes and keep me company," he offered, gently bumping her arm with his elbow.

Anna shrugged, "Maybe," she said, taking another swig of her wine.

"How bad was it out there?" he asked.

Anna pursed her lips. "Compared to in here? It was a nightmare. But, you get used to it – if you can."

"If you can't?"

"You don't make it," she said simply.

A minute of silence passed as Spencer digested her words.

"I'm glad Aaron found you," he finally said, taking a drink of his whiskey.

"Me too," Anna said, smiling as she drank the last of her wine.

She set her empty glass down on the porch railing and sighed. As nice as Spencer was, Anna wanted Daryl standing beside her. She wanted to talk and laugh with him like they used to, for things to go back to the way they were. It seemed that—

There was a pressure on her lips and she froze, her eyes widening in shock as she looked to Spencer's closed lids. Realizing what was happening – that he was kissing her – Anna shoved him away, accidentally knocking her glass off the railing where it shattered against the garden rocks below.

"What the fuck?" She demanded.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Her hands curled into fists and her body began to tremble with rage.

"I just—"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ever do that again." Her voice came out like a hiss.

"Anna, I—"

Certain that no matter what Spencer said she would break his nose, Anna turned on her heel before he could finish and stormed off the porch and out of the backyard.

.

.

Daryl stood on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets as he watched the party carry on through the glowing windows. He could hear the music and the laughter.

He knew Anna was there, and he knew she'd worn a pretty floral dress with her combat boots and her hair in waves around her shoulders. Seeing her like that had prompted him to shower and put on a clean, black button up. But now that he was standing there, about to face her, and he couldn't do it.

With a last glance at the house, Daryl turned and headed back to Carol's house, where he was sleeping on the couch. He couldn't help but think bitterly that if it weren't for Spencer, he'd have moved into the house with Anna. But he couldn't blame everything on him.

"Daryl."

He looked to the origin of the voice and found Aaron standing on his front porch, waving at him.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Thought you were goin' to that party over there," Daryl said accusingly.

"Oh, I was never going to go 'cause of Eric's ankle, thank God," Aaron laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Why the hell did you tell me to go, then?" Daryl demanded.

"I said try," Aaron corrected. "You did. It's a thought that counts thing."

"Alright," Daryl grumbled, starting towards Carol's again.

"Hey," Aaron called, making him pause again. "Come in. Have some dinner."

Daryl grimaced, preparing some way to tell Aaron politely that he'd rather not.

"Come on, man," Aaron insisted. "It's some pretty serious spaghetti."

Daryl stomach twisted at the mention of spaghetti and suddenly he was walking across the street and up the front steps of Aaron's house. Aaron laughed and directed him inside, where he found Eric sitting at the dining table, set for three.

"You knew I'd say yes?" Daryl asked.

"I hoped," Aaron said.

They sat down around the table and Eric dished out a plate of spaghetti. The second the plate hit the table, Daryl snatched up his fork and shoveled the food into his mouth, slurping up the noodles that hadn't quite made it.

He glanced up to find Aaron and Eric smiling between him and each other as they ate their meals slowly.

"Thanks," Daryl grunted, setting his fork down and wiping his face on the cloth napkin.

"Oh," Eric gasped. "When you're out there, if you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs. Neudermeyer is really looking for a pasta maker. And we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it," he laughed. "I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something. I really think she just wants something to talk about, so if you see one out on your travels, it would go a long way to…" he trailed off, noticing Daryl's confusion and Aaron looking at him. "I thought it was done," Eric said apologetically. "You didn't ask him already?"

"Ask me what?" Daryl said, looking to Aaron.

With a sigh, Aaron rose to his feet and gestured for Daryl to follow him. The two men went out into the garage, where Daryl found a plethora of motorcycle parts and an unfinished bike under a tarp.

"When I got the place, there was that frame and some parts and equipment," Aaron explained as Daryl wandered over to the table of parts. "Whoever lived here built them."

"It's a lot of parts for one bike," Daryl observed.

"Whenever I came across any parts out there, I brought them back. I didn't know what I'd need. I always thought I'd learn how to do it," Aaron said. "But, I get the feeling you already know what to do with it."

Daryl nodded, turning to peek under the tarp. It was nothing like his brother's, but he'd worked on all kinds of bikes and cars doing the odd job for money before the turn.

"And the thing is, you're gonna need a bike," Aaron said.

"Why?"

"I told Deanna not to give you a job because I think I have one for you," Aaron admitted. Daryl looked to him. "I'd like you to be Alexandria's other recruiter. I don't want Eric risking his life anymore."

"You want me riskin' mine, right?" Daryl asked, his mind conjuring up an image of Anna standing in the car port of the prison, watching him leave on a run, ordering him to return.

"Yeah, because you know what you're doing," Aaron insisted, stepping forward. "You're good out there. But you don't belong out there."

Daryl furrowed his brow at the assertion. Out there was the only place he'd ever felt he'd belonged. Out there with the others. With Anna.

"I know it's hard getting used to people getting used to you. And I understand right now you need to be out there sometimes. So do I. But the main reason why I want you to help me recruit is because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person," Aaron finished his speech and awaited Daryl's response.

He wondered what Anna would do if he agreed to be Alexandria's second recruiter, if she would see him off when he left. If she would want him to come back.

"I got nothing else to do," Daryl finally said, shrugging.

Aaron nodded and turned to head back inside.

"Thanks," Daryl said, causing Aaron to turn.

"Yeah," Aaron said, smiling.

"I'll get you some rabbits," Daryl offered.

Aaron laughed. "Great."