*New chapter, yay! Hope all is well with everyone and thank you for reading. Like I said last time, things are going to get much darker for Aria, starting with this chapter. I wish I could say that there are happy times to come, but there are not, just more fighting. With that, please enjoy the new chapter. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.*
Aria's POV
Fear.
A simple emotion that makes your heart race, palms sweat, and skin ice cold. It can paralyze you, kill you. Fear isn't a friend. It is an enemy, the greatest one you'll ever meet. The only way to beat it is to face that fear head on. But I think that's bullshit. No, the way to defeat what you're afraid of is to become it. You become the bigger, scarier monster; make yourself the top of the food chain so others will fear you. If you're at the top, you have nothing to be afraid of. It's like being the great white shark of the ocean, the black bear of the forest, and the king cobra of the desert. It won't be you cowering on the ground begging for mercy. No, you'll be the one standing over your prey with hunger in your gaze.
The angel blade drips red, pooling on the brown earth. My chest heaves, the dull ache of all those punches beginning to throb. I glance beside me to see Cas, a pit growing in my gut at the fear in his angelic blue eyes.
Who cares if he's scared of you, he's alive because of you.
I wipe the blade on the dead angel's clothes, sheathing it as I ignore my friend's terror. "You need to be more careful, Cas. Do you understand?" My back is turned to him, searching the area for any other threats. It's been a nonstop battle; walkers and fallen angels. If, and I mean if, Sam and Dean are still alive, they must have it twice as bad.
Cas doesn't answer, continuing to watch me with a deep look of concern. His trench coat is gone along with the suit, all replaced with practical clothing; jeans, thick soled boots, and layers. He might have some angel juice in him, but he might as well be human; which means that he needs to start acting like one.
"You can't take chances out here. These angels may have been your family before, but now they're your enemy. They want you dead, Cas. Don't fucking hesitate next time."
I wipe the sleeve of my shirt under my nose, painting it red. It's not busted luckily, but my head is throbbing, jaw aching, and body sore. The angel doesn't acknowledge my words, his face pinched in worry still, staring at me like he can see my soul and understand what has happened to me.
It's the same look every day for the past few weeks. He wanted to find Sam and Dean, but we've got nothing to show for our efforts except several of close calls and a trail of dead bodies. The boys aren't alive, nobody is. A month has passed since the prison, and not a single sign of our people. If we haven't found them by now we never will. That's a fact. There are too many variables. Sam and Dean would have found us by now, the group...well, they're not strong enough to battle angels and demons, don't know how much more powerful an angel can be.
We're wasting our time out here, risking our lives chasing ghosts. Cas needs to see that so I can do my damn job and keep him alive. I fix him with an empty stare, voice void of empathy and sharp as a blade, "Tell me you understand." The creases of his forehead deepen. "It's not a hard answer, Cas. Either yes or no."
"Yes."
"Good. Let's keep moving. We got a lot of ground to cover today. "I start moving through the forest, the crunch of underbrush my only indication that the angel is following me. He wants answers about what changed me, something I don't have.
Who I am?
It's me, who I've always been. I didn't know that until now, but it's true. My whole life I've been pretending to be someone I'm not. This cold, calculated facade isn't a mask. The smiles and jokes of that caring girl before was one. I wanted to hide behind that mask again for Cas, to avoid his questioning looks, but it is not possible. The monster is done hiding in the shadows, embracing his new role.
Orange leaves decorate the floor of the forest, fall in full bloom. I remember lying out in the backyard of my rustic home in North Carolina, watching as the crisp colored stars swayed down to the earth in a silent dance. I loved that, being able to lie at the edge of the woods and have a front row seat to nature's life; watching it slowly fade into the frigid cold that hid the shining sun behind overbearing grey clouds, destroying life.
Much like now, I have the best seat in the house to the natural occurrences of the world, because I'm the killer, the bringer of the endless winter for all monsters. There will be no spring, no new beginning, not once I'm through with them. They need to pay, every last one of them; walkers, angels, demons, humans. All of them have made me into this thing, breathed life into the darkness that sits in every soul. And if it's the last thing I do, I'll make sure they all suffer for that.
"Aria...what happened after we went missing?"
The question brings me up short, quieting the storm of thoughts in my head to allow grief to sing its sorrowful song. I shut my eyes against the sting of tears, trying to keep my promise to myself and not think about everyone I've lost, but it's a losing battle. The memories fight their way forward; Olivia, Daryl, Crowley, the virus, all of it. God, does it hurt too.
A heavy hand falls on my shoulder, yanking me back into the present. Cas stands in front of me, watching with the kind of concern Sam and Dean show me. The kind that makes my heart break a little more whenever I see it, the same distraught look Daryl watches me with when I'm falling apart.
Which I am. I'm a complete fucking mess and despite Cas's naivety of human emotions, he knows the one's I'm trying desperately to hide because I taught these to him so that he would understand the brothers and I.
He grips both my shoulders, a gesture similar to Dean when he wants answers. But I can't. This isn't about me anymore. It can't be, not if I want Cas to stay alive. So, I bury it deep down like I always do, dig the graves deeper and bigger to fit all the shit I put on myself, and I forget about it, letting all that crap die away.
Cas sees it, of course he does because, again, he's seen me do it. Those cerulean eyes sag, knowing that I'm closing up as he pulls his hands away, letting them hang limply at his sides. "I'm sorry that we were not there."
Apologies mean nothing to me, not when I should have been there to help. Instead, I was uselessly stuck here on earth with no way to them.
"We need to keep moving."
I brush past my friend, letting autopilot set in as I do what I do best; hunt.
Daryl's POV
"I'm gonna leave a thank you note."
The idea is ridiculous, not something I would have ever considered back in the old world either. First come, first serve and all. I scrape the sides of the jar of grape jam, asking a quick,
"Why?"
"For when they come back."
And that's Beth for you, the girl who's always hoping. I thought that would get her killed, but the girl is strong, always has been. She just never let that spark in her die, not like the rest of us did. Mine was snuffed out before I had a chance to save it.
"If they come back," she adds, "Even if they don't come back I still want to say thanks."
Now the whole thing doesn't sound so ridiculous because I get it. Aria used to talk about what little gratitude they got for saving people's lives. Most of the time it was an insult and a threat to call the cops, but never a single thank you. I think one or two of those would have made her life a lot easier, taken away some of that guilt she carried.
My shoulders slump with the thought of her, reminding me why it's just the two of us again. There's nobody left, nowhere to go. We're all each other have. Beth still thinks the others are alive, but I can't. This girl has changed my mind on a lot of things since the prison fell, but that's one thing I can't change my mind on. Aria would be here otherwise, Rick, Carl, Glenn, Maggie, they would all be here.
I scoop up some jam, thinking of the opportunities here. The place is boarded up, clean, and stock full of food. Sure, the people who live here are probably crazy, but this place beats camping in the woods. We trusted the Woodbury people after everything and so many other strangers, who became our friends. We could do the same with these people.
"Maybe you don't have to leave that." Beth stops her writing looking over at me unsure. "Maybe we stick around for a while. When they come back, we'll just make it work. I mean, they may be nuts, but maybe we'll be all right?"
Those big blue eyes shine with joy, her lips pulling up in proud smile. "So, you do still think they're good people around?"
I shrug the question off because I really only believe there is one good person left. The good ones always die, always, but not Beth, not as long as I am around.
"What changed your mind?" she questions eagerly, waiting for the answer that changed my cold heart.
I was a dick in the beginning, going back to my old ways because the new me couldn't do shit. I let people in and they all died. All I got in return for being a good person was pain. But Beth pushed past that front, forced me to face the facts, and reminded me of why I became the man I wanted to be.
'Aria.'
She gave me hope, and like her, Beth did the same thing. I wouldn't be alive right now if it wasn't for her.
"You know," I comment offhandedly, scooping another mouthful of jam into my mouth.
"What?"
I wish I could just say it, admit that this kid did something I thought only one other person on this earth could do. "I don't know," I mumble, dropping my gaze to the jar in my hands, scraping the sticky food from the glass sides.
"Don't, 'I don't know,'" she mimics, rolling her eyes. "What changed your mind?"
Those bright baby blues stare at me eagerly, the single word on the tip of my tongue, but unable to slip free into the silence.
You.
So fucking stupid. How did I ever believe that I could watch out for her? I let my guard down again, and now she's gone. The last good person in this world, the last tie to my family is dead because I wanted to feed some mutt. It's all my fault, just like Aria and everyone else, all their deaths are on my head. I stopped Aria from shooting the Governor, let that war happen and got all my people killed in the process.
What's the point now? I was right to not believe. All hoping did for me was kill the ones I cared about. I fuck everything up, just like my old man said. The fuck was right after all. I fought tooth and nail to be someone different for Rick, Carol, Beth, Aria, all of them. But in the end this is what I am, a good for nothing sack of shit who can't do a damn thing right.
Hell, I couldn't even be the husband I wanted to be for Aria. No, I went and screwed that up with Olivia. I destroy all the good that walks into my life. I don't deserve it anyway. Those people were good to me, looked up to me, but they shouldn't have. I'm nothing but a low life that had a bigger low life for a brother. Beth knew that and she still followed me around, thought that I was better than that, but I'm not. If I was she would be here now, not gone in some car, lost.
And god I tried so fucking hard to find her. Mile after mile I ran until I couldn't fucking go any more because of a fork in the road. I have no idea if the people who took Beth went left of right and no way to even check, just like I didn't know how to fix things with Aria after Olivia. I never did fix our relationship, and again I tried so damn hard to get her to forgive me, but the damage was done. It doesn't matter how hard I try it will never be enough. I'm a failure. I couldn't save Sophia, Merle, or Hershel. Their deaths are on my hands.
"Boo hoo, pick your prissy ass up off the ground and go find them. I taught you how to track little brother, even if you ain't as good as ole' Merle, you could still find those people."
That asshole would knock me on my ass if he was here now, but he's not. Aria would do the same thing, and if she was here I would be willing to keep fighting. Any one of them, I would pick my ass off this ground and keep moving, but they're not here so there's no reason.
Beth was my last hope and now she's been taken. I've got nothing left to fight for, not when I'm alone. There's a reason why I told Merle we needed people because this world kills the lone wolves. It's not designed like that. The walkers aren't a threat alone, but in groups they are; same as people. If everything else needs a group to survive how the hell am I supposed to do it alone?
I hear the boots long before they reach me. Their weapons clack against their bodies as they stroll up to me. Black boots, jeans, and the muzzle of a rifle are all I see from my head's hung position. The others circle around me, like wolves, cutting off any route of escape. I don't stand a chance against these men. I don't even allow myself to entertain the idea. But then again, maybe they aren't human, could be demons. A silent curse slips past my dry lips at that thought. Humans will at least consider making my death peaceful, demons won't.
"Well, look it here," an older gruff voice comments, making me lift my head just a bit, but not enough to see the speaker's face. My gaze swivels around slowly, taking in what I can from my senses as to how many men there are. I come up with six or eight, but unless I lift my head and take a look I don't know for sure. The man with the black boots steps forward, and I don't care if I don't have any hope in life, I'm not going to die in this world without a fight.
I tense, balling my fist and swing as the man leans down towards me. My fist connects with his face, and I'm up in seconds, crossbow in hand, sights aligned with the man's head as he lies on the ground. The others all tense, cocking their weapons and laying them on me, but I only watch the leader as he calls out to his men,
"Damn it, hold up!" He's an older man, with salt and peppered hair that's tied at the nape of his neck in a ponytail.
"I'm claiming the vest," a voice declares from behind me, my finger itching to lodge an arrow in that asshole's head for the comment.
"Hold up," the leader sternly comments, now sitting upright, wiping a hand under his bleeding nose. It stains the white mustache of his beard, priding myself in that nice right hook.
I hold my ground, unwavering, brow cinching together as the man below me starts to laugh.
Jesus, is the man nuts?
He continues to chuckle as he pulls himself to his feet, wiping at his bloodied nose again. I watch each step, finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire.
"A bow man," the leader comments fondly, "I respect that. See a man with a rifle could have been some kind of photographer, soccer coach back in the day, but a bow man's a bow man through and through."
The man's got a point, but I don't dare give him the pleasure of a comment, keeping all my focus on the men around me. I'm not stupid, but if these men attack, I'm taking as many as I can down with me. They're not demons; at least I don't think so. Almost positive I would have been pinned to the ground as soon as I nailed the leader.
The guy goes on, holding my stare, "What you got there? Fifty pound draw weight? I'll be donkey licked if that don't at least fire three hundred meters per second." He waits, as if he expects me to comment and join in like we're old pals, talking about our weapons collection. "I've been looking for a weapon like that myself. Of course, I would like on with a bit more ammo and minus the oblongata stains," he jokes, earning a few soft laughs from the other men.
"You get yourself in some trouble, partner?" the man behind me quips, making me decide right then that he'll be the second man I kill after this guy in front of me.
But the joking ceases as the leader goes on more seriously, telling me exactly what I already knew when they all walked up,
"You pull that trigger, these boys are gonna drop you several times over, is that what you want?"
Do I want to die? Hell no, but what are my choices? I've got no one and I ain't going to make it on my own.
"Come on, fella, suicide is stupid. Why hurt yourself when you can hurt other people?"
And that right there makes the perfect sense in the world. How many times have I been hurt? Is it wrong to want to get some damn revenge?
You're better than that and you know it. There's no one for you to get revenge on. You're the cause of your problems.
"Name's Joe," the man introduces, waiting like he knows I'm going to cave. And he's right. I drop my crossbow, muttering my name as I keep my gaze on the leader. He nods, pleased, and I finally take a look around me.
Eight men stand in a circle, giving me slight nods of their heads in welcome. They are bad people. That much is obvious. It's in their stares, the antsy shifting of their feet for some kind of fight. But they're people. It's something to keep me going for just a while longer, maybe enough to find something worth believing in again. Otherwise, I'm going to be what my old man was after all, because that's exactly what these men are.
What the hell am I getting into?
Aria's POV
"I've always enjoyed the change of the seasons. Before I came to earth again, I often yearned to come back and watch the phenomenal change."
Cas never used to be this talkative, you had to fight to get the man to speak to you, and more often than not all you would get in return were one worded responses. Now, he's talking my ear off. Part of me is annoyed with it, but also grateful. It's keeping me out of my head, away from the tormenting thoughts.
"Thought you spent most of your time in an autistic man's heaven?" I question plainly, remembering our talks during the hunt for Purgatory that he conned me into helping him find.
"Well, yes, that's where I spent most of my time, but that was only one season. Besides it is different watching someone else's memory than your own." A drawn out sigh leaves the angel, "I guess now I won't have to worry about that since heaven locked down."
"We'll fix it, Cas. Always do."
There's no conviction behind those words because I don't believe we will. I don't think we can. Heaven, earth, it's all doomed because of us. Somehow we played a hand in this; either because we never killed Crowley or because we defied our destinies, or a dozen other scenarios. This is our fault, one way or another, and we've got no clue on how to fix it.
The dead underbrush crunches under my boots, birds and cicadas singing there songs above us, letting their voices carry up into the afternoon sky. We need to find a place to crash for the night, so that we're not camping out here again. There are too many threats being out in the open like that, threats that put Cas in danger. At least in a house or building I can get a bird's eye view of the place, catch any threat coming near us. During the night in the woods you are completely dependent on your senses, hoping they don't fail you.
"Aria, may I ask you a question?"
"Shoot," my answer quick, mind distracted with our surroundings.
"What happened to your wedding ring?"
I halt, coming to an abrupt stop, and spin on the angel in a rage, grabbing him by his jacket roughly. It's a quick flash of fear in his gaze, that is replaced immediately with a blank mask, knowing that I'm about to blow up.
So, I do because I can't keep this up. The constant string of questions about the others, what happened when they were missing. Why does everybody have to pry? Is it so hard to leave what is unsaid, unsaid? I jerk him towards me with bared teeth, a low snarl ripping from my chest,
"Stop asking questions about them, about what happened."
Those blank features twist into defiance as he grips my hand, yanking it away from him,
"No."
My hands slam into his chest, sending the angel back several steps. A current of rage crackles under my skin, vibrating down into my bones.
Cas stands unfazed, squaring his shoulders, ready to take whatever I give, and that only makes the burn in my veins hotter. "This is not the Aria Redford I-"
"That you know, Cas?" I bark, cutting him off with scoff, "You're right, it's not because the person you knew was someone fighting against who they were meant to be. This is me! So, save me the cliché monologue on how to be good and be better than this."
He grabs my shoulder as I turn to walk away, and I tear out of his grasp. "You are not a bad person, Aria. I have seen bad souls and you're not one of them. You're grieving…"
My sharp laugh has him trailing off, "Have you seen what I've done? I don't kill Cas, I slaughter. And your excuse for that is because I'm grieving?" The monster hums in my veins, settling in my chest with a fire, the hot smoke exhaled through my having breaths.
"I do it because they deserve it. I do it to save you and send those fuckers a message. I do it because I want to! Not because I'm grieving or hurt. This killing is of my free will and desire."
He struggles for words, fighting desperately to convey what he believes, but I know what I am. I've accepted the dark and what comes with it. I turn my back on the angel once again, moving fast through the woods, trying to expell the lingering hum of the monster through my harsh steps. The forest thins out, a road coming into view. Cas hollers for me, his boots crashing through the underbrush just as fast to keep up. But that crackle of fire under my skin is still going strong. I need something to take it out on or else Cas will be the victim, and it won't be a pretty ending.
You have to protect him from yourself.
My boots smack against the grey asphalt road, nostrils flared as my breath flies from me. A piercing scream rips through the silence, startling me. I turn fast on my heels, looking into the woods at Cas, but find him safe, albeit picking up his pace to reach my side in worry. Yells sound from the right, and I watch two girls break through the woods on the opposite side of the road, bleeding heavily as they drag one another along. Cas starts forward right away, taking off in a sprint.
"Damn it, Cas," I growl under my breath, running after the angel.
The girls call for help, barely keeping upright as they stumble. Walkers stagger out behind them and white hot adrenaline races through my body. One, two, three, they keep coming until a dozen flood the road, grabbing for the hurt women. Cas is running right into the danger zone only armed with a hunting knife and gun. The walkers bear down on the girls, screaming for a god that won't save them.
The yards between us and the walkers close, and before I know it, Cas is there, driving his knife into the back of a walker's head. My breaths come in short pants as I push my legs to close the last few feet, reaching the angel in time to yank him back from the walker coming up on the side of him. I drive my knife into an older walker, most of the skin on his face peeled off.
"Aria!"
My gaze cuts to Cas, but it wasn't for help it was a warning. One that comes too late as those decayed teeth sink into my shoulder, drawing a yelp from me as I shove it back. Cas starts towards me, knife in hand, but I lose sight of him because that violent humming is now a screaming, one that makes everything red.
My shoulder burns, protesting with each slice of my machete, the only thing tying me to what is happening as the monster rampages. Thick blood sprays my face, the growls turning to choked groans as I put them down for good. It's all instinct, moving like a choreographed dance as I kick and slice, massacring the monsters that have taken so much from this world.
I grab the remaining oily strands of the walker's head, yanking him off the dead girls, and tear into him. The machete finds purchase easily through his back, piercing his chest as I kick the back of his knees. He falls to the ground, jerking around as I force the blade to cut up through his chest cavity, creating a giant hole, watching as the coagulated blood pours out. I yank the blade out and slam it down through the corpse's head, finally satisfied as that burn in my veins fades with a heavy breath.
"Don't move!"
My gaze jerks up from the corpse below me to find a group of four men, varying in age. The youngest can't be more than a year or two older than me, the oldest at least ten years older. They look fairly put together, except they have few supplies, like these walkers caught them off guard and they had to make a quick getaway. The older man is looking at the walkers, particularly the two girls in the middle of the carnage, throats ripped into, and faces eaten.
I glance behind me at Cas to find him safe, but that doesn't ease me. One of the younger men, sandy blonde hair and a thick beard, aims his gun at me, ordering,
"Put your weapons down."
The others are afraid, holding their weapons close to them. But their gazes aren't drifting anywhere else in fear, just me.
They're a threat.
"We don't mean you any harm," Cas defends when I don't move. I'm not going to either.
"I don't care! Put your weapons down!"
"Randy, watch the volume!" a man with glasses comments, stealing frantic glances around us.
"Shut up, Neil!" Randy growls, holding my empty gaze, "What happened to them?" he questions roughly, eyeing the two dead girls with sorrowful eyes.
"We were trying to help them."
Randy's attention shoots to Cas, training the rifle on him. Without question I step into the line of fire, making the man tighten his hold on his weapon. "I said don't move."
"Then don't aim the gun at him," I growl, the ferocity of my words not lost on the four men as they shift back. My grip tightens on the handle of my blood soaked machete. Randy's gaze hardens, hiding his fear behind the tough man front. "Your friends were bit when they came out of the forest. We tried to help, but were too late. So, why don't you lower your weapons and go on your way."
It's not so much a suggestion as it is an order. The longer we stand out here in the open, the bigger the target we become. These men only have to worry about walkers, and the occasional group they run into. We have to worry about that too along with demons and angels. Standing like this in the middle of an open road is painting big red targets on our backs.
"I don't believe you," he accuses, the other men fidgeting as the tension between our two groups increases.
"I don't give a shit. Your friends stumbled out of these woods soaked in blood with walkers on their asses. They were dead no matter what we did. We risked our damn lives for them, and it was a waste."
It's the spark that makes the tension explode. Randy charges forward, fueled with blind rage and grief. The others call out to him as he swings, but I catch his fist, knocking the handle of the machete into his face with a satisfying crack.
He clutches at his nose, stumbling back and I advance, Cas calling for me. But I won't stop. They are a threat or baggage we can't afford to carry around. Randy brings his rifle up, swinging at me. I lean back, missing the hit to the face as I catch the rifle, dropping my blade, and using both hands to knock the gun back into his face. He drops to the ground, rolling on his back with a pained moan.
He doesn't get a break from my assault though. I've already proven my point, but he pointed a gun at Cas, at me. The others were never a threat just this asshole who needed to remember to never underestimate someone. My fist cracks against his jaw bone, pain sparking in my knuckles. A gunshot freezes my cocked arm, eyes shooting up at the old man who's got a pistol aimed at me.
"What the hell, Bill!" Neil cries, frantically looking around at the forest on either side of us.
Randy takes advantage of the distraction, sneaking in a right hook that knocks me on my ass. He's on top of me in a second, trying to get a hit in while I block his fists. He manages one last punch before being tackled by Cas. The two roll around, trying to gain the upper hand over one another. Randy wins and lays into the angel relentlessly.
It's game over then. My machete is in my hand and then buried in Randy's chest before I can recognize my own actions, but they aren't mine. No, it's the monster. The one willing to go as far as possible to keep Cas alive. I free the blade, kicking Randy off the angel before turning to the shocked men.
Groans of the dead sound from behind them, the stumbling figures careening in between the thick trunks of the trees. A body plows into me, slamming me into the ground with a warrior's cry. Bill tries to wrap his hands around my throat, scrambling to get past my frantic blocks. Those large hands grip my neck, squeezing as I scramble to grab the knife at my hip, choking at the lack of air. My fingers wrap around the handle and I drive it into the side of Bill's neck, bright red blood spurting out as I yank it free.
I barely catch my breath before a walker tumbles down on top of me. The dead woman gnashes her jaw together, hands gripping at my shoulders, trying to find purchase. My arms quake, barely able to keep her struggling form away. I drive my knife through the side of her head, quickly rolling out from under the dead body.
Cas is fighting off his own walker, Neil and the other guy, struggling with their own. The angel drives his knife through the top of the corpse's head, meeting my concerned gaze before a choked cry draws my attention to the two men. Neil has abandoned his friend who is now being attacked by two walkers. The rest of the dead flood out of the forest, larger than the group that attacked the girls.
"Run!" I order Cas, grabbing him and shoving him forward, down the road and out of the throng of walkers. I pick up my machete, slicing the frontal lobe of a bony corpse before following the angel. The man's cries finally cease, replaced with the roar of the dead as they trail after us.
Railroad tracks disturb the smooth road leading into town, the metal rails leading into the woods. "This way," I breathe out, running down the tracks and cutting into the forest from there. Dead leaves crunch under our running feet, low hanging branches cutting at our faces. The cocking of a gun freezes me, yanking Cas to a stop as I shove him behind me.
Neil approaches from the right of us, a small handgun poised at my head. "You killed my friends!" I glance behind us, seeing the horde coming closer and closer, their swaying figures bobbing in between the trunks of the trees. Neil stomps towards me, tears streaming down his face, lips curled back in a snarl of grief and anger. "Do you even care?!"
I meet the watery brown eyes behind his glasses, "No."
With that I lunge forward, knocking the gun from his hands, landing a fist to his gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He coughs violently, hunched over, gasping for air. Cas comes at me, trying to pull me off the man, but I shrug the angel off, shoving Neil into the oncoming path of the walkers. Their snarls of hunger pull the man into action as they start to swarm him. He pushes and shoves his way out of their grasps, stumbling into a clearing. The walkers are relentless, even as Neil snatches up a branch, trying to defend himself. But it's pointless. Dozens of walkers surround him, tearing him apart.
"HELP! PLEASE, HELP ME!" Neil screams right before a walker sinks their teeth into the side of his face, ripping his eye out.
"Let's go, Cas." I start forward, circling the clearing, listening to the man's constant stream of pleas.
A hand grips my bicep, pulling me around to meet fiery blue eyes. I yank my arm free of the angel, fixing him with a daring glare. He didn't believe me when I said it, but this is who I am. I'm not a good person and now he understands that.
"Aria?"
The voice makes me whip around, eyes blown wide in awe.
"Rick?"
