A/N: Lowkey did not fully proof read this but it's Christmas Eve cut me some slack lolol. Also Merry Christmas (if you celebrate that kind of thing). This chapter is dedicated to DifferentlyMe who PM'ed me and asked for this to be updated lol. Thanks for reminding me that this story existed. PS: FUCK THAT SPN FINALE.

Episode #12:

Something's Not Quite Right

"I am haunted by my

Decisions and memories.

All I ever wanted was the home

I never had growing up,

But all my chances

Have escaped

Like sand through

My fingers."

–Unknown

The drive was the entire opposite of fun or enjoyable. There was an edge that hung in the air and everyone in the Impala sat stiffly. Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and his eyes darted to the rear-view mirror every few seconds. Sam shifted in his seat so his back wasn't to the three men and he kept his gun in his lap at the ready. The Winchesters were not the trusting type, and the apocalypse did nothing but deepen that paranoia.

"So…" Hank broke the silence and Sam saw his brother stiffen even further. "Where are you boys from?"

"Nowhere." Dean snapped. Randall, the youngest of the three, shifted nervously in his seat. He kept his eyes to the floorboard the entire time. The other man, Ryan, who sat in the middle just looked bored.

Sam nodded to Hank, "How big is your group?"

"Oh, I'd say about thirty-ish." Hank answered with a friendly smile and Sam tried not to noticeably lock his jaw. His eyes darted over to his brother just as Dean looked to him. The same thought being shared without being spoken.

It would've been difficult for a group that size to amass, and big groups like that were hardly the safest. In fact, their whole plan was to find Madison and Castiel and then drive up to Bobby's place. Just them. Probably Gabriel too, but only because they wouldn't be able to physically stop the archangel.

"Hey." Dean mumbled and brought the car to a stop. Sam glanced out the front at the blockage of cars on the highway. It was a maze of broken and hollowed out vehicles with debris and blood splattered amongst the ground.

"The town's just past this little traffic hold-up." Hank waved forward. "There's a little path off to the right that I think you can drive down. Your car is a little wider than ours."

Dean hesitated for a second, considering something, before carefully driving the Impala off to the side. Sam knew realistically that the Impala was not the ideal car for their situation, but Dean was already on edge with their friends missing. There was no way he was going to bring up ditching the Impala too.

They began to weave through the maze of cars slowly. Dean and Sam shared another look with one another. The longer these men sat in the car the worse they felt about the entire situation. All their years of hunting had gifted them both with a sixth sense, and right now that sense was telling them something was very, very off about these men.

Sam couldn't help but look away from them to observe the graveyard around them. It was depressing to say the least. His eyes landed on one car that had a collection of water bottles, some Gatorade, and canned foods. The back window had the words 'STAY HERE, SOPHIA. WE'LL COME BACK EVERYDAY' written in bright orange paint. An unsettling feeling came over him. Whoever Sophia was she was obviously lost, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was even still alive.

"You guys lose someone?" Sam questioned.

"No." Randall spoke up, his eyes still set on his lap, "We spotted it a few days ago. Someone, uh, someone must have been passing through."

Sam nodded once. It seemed like everyone was losing somebody these days. At least those people, whoever they were, had a general idea about where Sophia was. Him and Dean had nothing but Gabriel's reassurance that they were alive. There was no other clue or hint to point them in the right direction. He just hoped they were safe.

"Clark." Dean said and he looked over at his brother. Dean nodded once, "Do you think she still has the knife?"

"The one you gave her?" Sam questioned. Dean nodded again and Sam could see the panic hidden under his stoic features. Before Madison left for Texas, Dean had given her the demon killing blade just to be safe. "I'm sure she still has it. We didn't find it."

Silence settled between them and the Impala finally broke free of the graveyard. A minute or so later, Hank leaned forward and pointed to the left, "There's a path up ahead you can turn down."

"I thought you said ten miles past a town." Sam replied skeptically. This dirt road was barely even that.

"It's a, uh, it's a shortcut. Takes us right to camp." Randall mumbled.

Dean and Sam shared a knowing glance and things moved quickly from there. Dean slammed on the breaks then both brothers whipped around with guns raised. Hank and Randall looked startled, but Ryan still didn't even look fazed. Dean motioned to the door, "End of the road. Get the hell out."

Hank nervously held his hands up, "Listen fellas, we mean no harm—"

"Shut up. Get out." Dean growled.

Ryan suddenly began to laugh, and it put ice in Sam's veins. He readjusted his grip on his gun just as Ryan's eyes began to glow blue. Tattoos, glowing a dark blue, began to form on his skin as an arrogant smirk graced his lips.

"Oh, you Winchesters are good." He chuckled. "I knew all this would just be a waste of time. Should've just jumped in."

"Djinn." Sam breathed in panic. Ryan dove forward with arms outstretched. Sam fired his gun, just as Dean did his, but then a hand made contact with his forehead and everything went black.

The room was filled with a warm light. Morning. Late in the morning too based on the shadows on the wall. Daryl usually didn't sleep in this late, but he supposed his injury probably had something to do with it. He sat up cautiously, expecting a flare of pain from his side, but felt nothing. In fact, he didn't feel sore anywhere. Sitting up completely he reached for his side, looking for his wound, and his eyes drifted over and froze in place.

"Sunshine?" Daryl's voice was gruff and hoarse. His hand fell from his side in shock and worry. Tori was sitting straight, curled up into herself, with her arms tightly hugging her legs. Something wasn't right though. Her pretty eyes were blown wide in terror and she was covered head to toe in splotches of blood and grime. The clothes she had on were the same she had when he first met her and his eyes drifted further to the bleeding wound on her shoulder and the blood pooling into the white sheets under her.

The shock and worry turned into a sharp panic and he felt his heart rocket out of his chest. Daryl scrambled to grab Tori, to do something, but his outstretched hand froze midair. Would she even want him touching her? Would she just sneer and slap his hand away? Daryl's hand curled up into a fist and he breathlessly spoke, "Tori?"

Her terror filled eyes suddenly snapped up to meet his. There was a wound over her right eyebrow that let dark, red blood drip down over her features. Daryl felt unsettled. He felt like the entire world around him was tilting on an axis and he didn't quite understand it.

"Daryl." Tori whispered desperately. "Daryl."

He watched helplessly as Tori reached out to him. Her dirty, shaking hand grasped at his shoulder. The few times Tori had touched him felt different than this. Usually the touch was soft and warm, but right now all he felt was a sharp chill run down his spine. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Daryl reached up and set one hand over her own, "Don't move. I'll—"

"What'll you do, little brother?" Merle's cruel voice barked out with a laugh. "You can't do a Goddamned thing! Your little bitch is a goner!"

The voice came from behind him, but when he snapped his gaze over his shoulder he was only greeted by empty space. Or was it? The shadow on the floor began to churn in odd movements and Daryl watched as it climbed the wall only to separate itself off of it. A dark, figure shaped shadow formed. It had no features, but Daryl watched as the figures head tilted to the side.

A disjointed, flat voice spoke from the space around the shadow, "You cannot kill me in any way that matters, wanderer. Your ancestors failed and so shall you."

"Daryl?!" Tori's sharp voice snapped him back to attention.

He whirled around and only then noticing that she had yanked her hand away to scramble to the edge of the bed. Daryl had never seen Tori look so weak, so vulnerable, and so afraid. It was like the light he valued in her had been completely sucked from her body, leaving only a scared husk in the wake.

"Don't let me die. Don't let me die, please, Daryl, please save me. Please don't let me die." Tori pleaded desperately. Tears poured from her eyes, mixing with the blood on her face, and her breaths were a collection of shaking gasps and sobs.

"I—I—" Daryl began, but it felt like there was a stone stuck in his throat. Before he could help or offer any kind of comfort, a graying face appeared behind her with the sickly, familiar groan of the dead. Decaying fingers curled around Tori's neck, and Daryl suddenly recognized the features of Rick on the face of the walker. He wanted to scream, he wanted to lunge forward and pull Tori into his chest, but all he could do was pathetically stare in horror. The walker version of Rick buried his mouth into the crook of Tori's neck and a spray of bright red blood burst from her broken skin. He finally lunged forward, "TORI!"

Daryl startled awake.

His side was hot with pain while his head throbbed with the quick beat of his heart. He quickly sat up, ignoring the screaming pain from his side, and tried to suck in as much air as his lungs could hold. Daryl's eyes darted to where Tori was sleeping still. The first word that came to his mind was 'peaceful'. Tori looked peaceful. Her light brown hair fanned around her soft features. Most of the dark bags that had been plaguing her were gone now.

Daryl leaned toward her, he couldn't help it, and he reached out to brush the hair away from her shoulder revealing nothing but clean, smooth skin along her neck. No wounds, no blood. He released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. His finger traced the unbroken skin with relief before leaning back.

What the actual fuck had that been about? Daryl didn't dream very often, and he had nightmares even less. As a kid, he had been plagued with terrible night terrors, he remembered that, but at some point they just faded away. They no longer haunted him. It was around the time Daryl had also chosen to close in on himself and separate himself from the world around him.

Were those the kind of nightmares Tori had been having though? If they were, he understood why the woman was such a mess. Daryl let his eyes drift around the room. They lingered on every shadow, waiting to see movement, but nothing happened. The room around them was still and quiet. Despite having nothing around him, despite knowing it was just a shitty nightmare, something still felt wrong. There was an eerie feeling around him. It felt like someone was watching him. Daryl shoved aside the feeling, knowing it had to just be a lingering feeling from his nightmare, and tiredly rubbed a rough hand over his face.

The door cracked open, making him jump, but when his eyes landed on Hershel all he did was pull the sheet up to cover his torso. The older man had a fresh roll of bandages in his hand. His eyes took in Daryl and then drifted to the woman beside him.

"I wasn't aware she was spending the night in the house." Hershel said in the same tone of displeasure that he usually used. Daryl noted that the man basically disagreed and disapproved of most of the actions from their group. His voice almost always held that tone, "The bed may help her, but the two of you needed a full night's—"

"Ain't nothin' happened." Daryl sneered. The thought that someone like Tori would pay someone like him any sort of mind was laughable in itself.

Hershel nodded, "I need to check and redress your wounds. Unless you would prefer Tori to do it?"

Daryl glanced over his shoulder to look at her sleeping features again. Despite the talking and his startled movements, Tori hadn't even flinched. She needed this sleep more than any of them assumed. He looked back to Hershel, "You do it."

Hershel nodded, pulled the chair over, and went to work. Daryl gritted his teeth and focused on a spot on the wall while the man pulled and yanked on his wound. His mind drifted back to the woman lying beside him. Daryl hadn't known Tori for very long at all which is why it was so startling how quick she had wormed her way into his head. Hell, he couldn't even put a finger on when it all began. Maybe it had been when she volunteered to go to Atlanta to find Merle? Or maybe it had been seeing her vulnerable side at the CDC? Daryl, honest to God, had no idea. What he did know was this: Tori touched a softer side of him. A side that he thought he had buried in the Georgia woods years ago. Daryl spent most of his life carefully constructed a ten-foot wall around himself, to protect himself, but Tori blew past all of it without blinking a damned eye.

Sunshine was an apt name for her, much better than Doc, and as much as he hated to admit it, Daryl liked having her around him. Tori's bright smile and kind words brought him a comfort he hadn't felt in a very long time. Daryl wasn't naïve though. He knew he liked having her around, but he also knew that he didn't trust it. Daryl didn't trust Tori. He couldn't. Having people leave his life had hurt in the past. To the point where he realized by refusing to let anyone in he'd never have to face that kind of hurt again. Tori claimed to care, claimed to want to be there for him, but her leaving was inevitable. The more Tori got to know him the sooner she'd be to running. It was only common sense. Everybody left him so why would she be the exception?

Daryl knew it was coming. She was too soft to withstand living so close to someone as rough as him. Even though he knew what was going to happen though, he couldn't bring himself to separate himself. If Daryl was a smart man, he'd push Tori away before more damage could be done. He wasn't a smart man in this case though. Every laugh, every smile, every soft look she gave him was bringing his walls crumbling to the ground. When Tori left him it would hurt like hell and he would only have himself to blame at this point.

"Seems alright." Hershel hummed. "No stressing it. I'd suggest a day of nothing." Daryl frowned at the suggestion. He was not good at doing nothing. Hershel stood and motioned to Tori, "Let her get as much rest as possible."

Daryl nodded, mumbling a quick thanks under his breath, and watched as Hershel left the room. After a moment, he pushed himself out of bed to cross the room and grab his shirt. It was a mess, covered in blood and dirt and a hole where the bolt had pierced through him, but it was better than nothing. Daryl was more concerned with covering himself than he was getting dirty. Tori had talked a good game last night, but he couldn't stand to let her actually see the scars. It'd be the first step in her leaving. He could imagine the pity that would fill her eyes and she wouldn't look at him the same anymore. She'd treat him like a broken piece of glass and Daryl wouldn't be able to stand it.

The sound of movement made him look over to see Tori beginning to stir. She rolled over a few times before her eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused at first, but finally her gaze drifted over to him and a small smile brightened her rested features, "Morning."

I felt awake. I felt rested. Never again would I ever take a full night's sleep for granted. I sat up in bed, Daryl was still standing across the room, and I stretched my arms over my head. Through the entire night, I hadn't had a single nightmare. I hadn't even dreamed at all. There was no way that was just a coincidence. That was because of Daryl. He chased away the bad dreams like medicine.

"How'd you sleep?" Daryl asked. His voice more gruff from just waking up.

I continued to stretch, a wide grin on my face, "Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I feel fantastic, Daryl." It was the truth too, not some white lie to protect the ones around me. Not only was I rested, but there was no sickness or hole in my chest. I only prayed the feeling would remain once Daryl's presence left me. "How about you? Sleep ok? I didn't snore too bad, did I?"

"Good 'nuff." Daryl replied shortly.

My eyes narrowed at his words. There was a bitter undertone and I could see the exhaustion on his features from here. I slid out of bed, "Oh God, did I actually snore? Kick you or something? You look exhausted."

"Said I was fine. Don' worry 'bout it." He was lying, but I wasn't sure why. I crossed the room to grab a fresh shirt out of my bag. Daryl moved to sit back on the edge of the bed, and I could feel his curious gaze on me. Finally he spoke up, "What did you…nevermind."

I whipped around with a shake of my head, "No, ask."

My hope was that if I encouraged him to open up more he might actually do it. I never wanted him to be afraid to ask me something. Daryl rolled his question around his head a few times. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before speaking, "What were your nightmares 'bout?"

"Oh, uh…" The question caught me off guard.

"Don' have to answer if you don' wanna."

I shook my head and set my clean shirt down, "No, it's fine. I had a lot of different nightmares. They were filled with these—these monsters. I mean, the things I've seen… walkers have nothing on them." Daryl's jaw clenched. "But mostly it was just a lot of death. Sometimes my own, sometimes…not my own. I preferred the former. There was also always this…this shadow—"

"Shaped like a man?" Daryl suddenly asked.

My blood ran cold and it felt like a truck had slammed into my side. The look on my face must have been answer enough because Daryl nodded once. This wasn't possible. How was Daryl having my nightmares? My fists clenched, "You had a nightmare?"

"Jus' a coincidence."

I wished I could brush it off like he had, but I couldn't. Ever since finding Castiel on the side of the road, I found myself questioning the authenticity of coincidence. I shook my head, "There's no such thing. I gotta go."

"Where? Hershel said you needed to take it easy." Daryl replied.

"He should've said that to you." I said back, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder, "Besides, I got shooting lessons with Officer Walsh and Officer Grimes today."

When I said Rick's title, Daryl stiffened for some reason, but he didn't offer me an explanation. He just nodded once, "Good. 'Bout time you learned to handle a gun."

"You know, you could always just teach me to shoot a crossbow." I smirked at him, trying not to let the news of his nightmare plague me. I didn't actually wanna learn how to shoot the weapon. I'd stick with my knife and a gun, but Daryl's reactions were always priceless.

He scoffed, "You couldn' even pull back the string to load a bolt."

Daryl was 100% correct, but I still threw up one arm to flex my biceps, "You questioning these bad boys?"

A feeling of triumph washed over me when Daryl's lips twitched up into an amused smile. I grabbed my boots to pull them on, and then stuck my knife into the side of my right boot like I always did. Daryl spoke up, "You're gonna hurt yourself like that. Need a holster."

"I'm fine. It works, don't it? Thanks again for letting me stay here, Daryl."

He nodded once and I quickly rushed out of the room. I took hesitant steps away from the room, waiting for exhaustion to slam into me, but it never came. The black was still there. It lingered around, trying to pull me down, but I had enough energy today to ignore it and brush it away. A small smile filled my face, but it was short lived. Sleeping beside Daryl had been the cure, but I couldn't do it again. Not at the cost of his own energy. The black couldn't haunt me last night so it chose to latch onto Daryl instead. I didn't know how that could even happen, but it did and I'd never let it happen again.

I walked out into the morning light and a chill spread across my skin when the wind blew past me. It was much cooler out this morning than it was yesterday. The Georgia heat had finally begun to simmer down. The thought of a freezing winter, and us all out on the road, terrified me, but I quickly shoved the thought away.

"Tori."

I stopped at the edge of the camp to see Castiel sitting at a picnic bench alone. With a grin as my greeting I walked over to sit with him. He had on a white button up shirt, jeans, and now the tan trench coat I had found him in. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something about it felt right. It was like a part of Castiel was missing, but now with the trench coat he looked whole to me. I wondered why that was.

"Morning, Cas. Nice jacket."

"Carol found it in the RV and washed the blood from it."

I nodded, "She's very good at getting rid of blood stains. It looks good on you, man."

"You look well."

"I feel well." I replied with a chuckle. "What about you?"

Castiel shook his head, "I did not have a good night." My eyes widened and before I could ask if he was okay, he continued, "I had a dream last night. I know what it is. Sort of."

"What? The—The black?" I whispered back. Castiel nodded and he spoke a word. It wasn't English, and I couldn't name the language it was in. The sound he made was guttural though, from the back of his throat. "What language is that?"

Castiel shrugged, "I do not know. The important thing is, I know how to get rid of it."

At his words, I felt the black angrily bristle against my skin. It was sharp and cold. I ignored the sensation, "How?"

"We need the blood of the wanderer."

I blinked in confusion, "The blood of…of what?" Castiel didn't reply. He instead pulled something out of his coat pocket. It was some kind of bracelet. The twine was tied around a small, flat bone. "What the hell is that? Is that a bone?"

"Yes. It's a piece of skull from a squirrel. I needed the femur of an aged cat, but this seemed like it may work as a short term replacement." Castiel answered nonchalantly. Like what he said wasn't entirely bonkers. "The wanderer is Daryl. He was supposed to bleed over the bone, but I used some of his bandages from yesterday to make the twine. I hope it will be enough. I would've asked him, but to be honest I find the man quite intimidating still."

I leaned forward, "Cas, do you realize how insane this all is? Bones and blood and the black? Why is Daryl the wanderer? What the hell does that even mean?"

Castiel shook his head, "I don't know. I don't remember. I just know that this will work. I spoke some words of Latin over it while making the bracelet."

"Well, yeah, of course." I scoffed in disbelief, "A spell wouldn't be complete without that, right?"

Castiel was quiet and I felt bad. He was just trying to help. It wasn't his fault that all of this was batshit crazy. Spells, monsters, and unrecognizable language? The wanderer? The black? I knew it was crazy, but I wished it scared me. If it scared me, like it would a normal person, I'd feel better. The issue was, this made sense. This didn't stun me into a state of shock. It was all too easy for me to accept the things Castiel was saying.

"I'm sorry. I do appreciate this, and you, Cas. I don't know what I'd do without you." I gave him a soft smile. I held out my left wrist to him, "Should we test it out?"

The black was screaming against my skin and it took all the energy I had to not flinch. Castiel returned my smile and slipped the bracelet over my wrist. As he tried to tie it, his fingers brushed against my skin turning black. He flinched but didn't stop in his movements. The moment he got it tied it felt like the wind was knocked out of my lungs. It was like someone had slammed a hammer into my chest.

The black was gone. I couldn't feel it on my skin anymore. Still, I could feel it hanging in the air around me, but it couldn't touch me. It couldn't touch me. Castiel reached out to hold my hand and it didn't cause him any pain.

"Oh my God. Oh my God." I breathed, a small laugh bubbling from my lips, "Oh my God, Cas, it worked!"

I jumped up from the table, Castiel followed my movements, but he seemed confused when I hurried to his side to pull him into a tight hug. He didn't tense, and he slowly wrapped his arms around me too. That was when it hit me. I had suspicions and deep inside I knew that Castiel was familiar to me, but hugging him here? He was my friend. I had known him before. This was familiar.

I pulled away from him and stared at the odd looking bracelet on my wrist, "I think I need to cover this up."

"It would bring up many questions."

With a chuckle, I dug through my bookbag to grab an old dark blue bandana. I folded it up a few times then wrapped it around my wrist to entirely cover the bracelet. While I was at it, I also grabbed a plaid shirt to pull over what I already wore to keep away the morning air chill.

"Thanks again, Cas. You coming to shooting practice today?"

"I am not sure yet."

"You should. It couldn't hurt." I replied as we walked deeper into camp. I greeted Carl and Carol as we passed them, then paused to look at Castiel. "Hey, do you know Sam and Dean?"

His eyes widened and he didn't immediately answer. The question hung in the air around us. It was the million dollar question of our lives. Who the hell was Sam and Dean Winchester, and why were their names so important to me? Castiel finally shook his head, "I—I don't know."

"Yeah." I mumbled. "Me neither."

Glenn was standing at the edge of camp with a pair of binoculars held up to his face. For the past ten minutes this was all he had done. He stood at the edge of camp, away from the others, nervously staring at the time bomb that was the barn. It looked so innocuous in the daylight.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned in time to see Maggie walking toward him. She had on a black t-shirt, jeans, and a look of annoyance on her features. She was also holding a tan, woven basket filled with something. She shook her head at him, "Could you be more obvious?" Glenn let the binoculars fall, they hung around his neck, and Maggie dropped the basket at his feet. It was filled with peaches and a single bag of jerky, "Here, enjoy."

"Are you trying to buy my silence?" Glenn whispered, he glanced down then back to her, "With fruit?!"

"Of course not." Maggie said quickly. She sheepishly motioned to the basket, "There's also jerky."

Glenn groaned, "Will you please tell me why your dad has a secret barn full of walkers? It's creepy."

"Shh." Maggie shushed him and glanced around.

"I mean, you have to know that, right?"

"Shh!" She shushed him again, "Will you just trust me?"

Glenn's features fell and he shook his head, "I suck at lying. I can't even play poker. Didn't you see me get slaughtered the other night? Carl beat me for crying out loud."

Maggie grabbed his arms, "You have to keep this to yourself. You have to. Please."

The young woman sounded desperate, and Glenn watched helplessly as she marched away from him back to the house. He couldn't keep a secret to save his life, but he also didn't want to let Maggie down. But on top of that, he also didn't want his group to be eaten alive in the middle of the night by a barn of secret, creepy walkers! Glenn scooped up the basket with a groan and tried to swallow his discomfort.

T-Dog was struggling to get the RV's canopy pulled out while Dale watched from the trailer's door. The damn thing just would not fold out. Dale called out another instruction and T-Dog shot him a look of annoyance. He opened his mouth to ask the older man if he wanted to do this himself, but he was distracted by a familiar, cheerful voice.

"Morning, guys!" Tori chirped.

He glanced over his shoulder to see the woman smiling brightly at them. There was color in her cheeks again and energy in her eyes. T-Dog glanced over at Dale and they shared a knowing smile of relief. Tori looked alive again. Thank God.

"Good morning, Tori. You look terrific!" Dale greeted warmly.

"Yeah, who would've guessed that all it would take to put a little pep in her step was staying up all night with Daryl Dixon." T-Dog joked.

Dale's eyes were blown wide open, Tori shot him an amused glare, and T-Dog just smirked, "Wait, I didn't know—"

"We're not and nothing happened." Tori replied. She came over to help him struggle with the canopy, "I just slept in the house, but not in the way T is thinking."

Relief flooded Dale's features, but neither of them questioned it. T-Dog knew the two of them weren't involved, but he also knew that there was something there. He got a vibe from the two of them. Either Tori was into Daryl or Daryl was into Tori, or they both were and they were just too chicken to admit it. It was something though.

"Hey." T-Dog called out.

Tori grabbed the other end of the canopy, her arms stretched way over her head while standing on her tip-toes, "I don't think I want to speak with you."

He chuckled at the smile on her lips. With her help, he was able to yank the canopy out and put the legs in place. They took a step back to admire their work. T-Dog noticed a blue bandana wrapped around her left wrist, "What's up with that?"

Tori glanced over at him and he motioned to her wrist with his head. She held up her wrist and rolled her eyes at him in good nature, "What? I'm not allowed to accessorize?"

T-Dog laughed. He had missed her sass. It was always so light and playful. He, again, found himself being thankful that Tori was back to her usual self. He wasn't sure what it was that finally got her to have a good night's sleep, but T-Dog hoped it stuck around. After a couple minutes of talking, Glenn suddenly marched over with a pained look on his face. He stopped in front of Dale first.

"Dale. Peaches for you."

"Mm. Thank you." Dale replied taking one from the basket.

Andrea walked out of the RV at that moment, calling out a morning greeting that everyone chorused, but Glenn just stared at her blankly while she left the area. Tori glanced over at him and T-Dog nodded in agreement. The Korean was being weird as shit.

"Thanks, Glenn." Tori said while taking a peach from him.

"You look better, Tori." Glenn sighed, his worried features melting into a brief moment of relief, "I'm glad."

T-Dog took a peach as well with a nod of thanks. Glenn just stared at him. He tilted his head slightly, "Sup?"

"Nothing!" Glenn's eyes widened. "Nothing's up! Why?"

Everyone just stared at each other before Glenn turned on his heel and stalked away stiffly. The group of them just continued to stare at him for a few moments. Tori finally spoke up, "That was…strange."

"He's strange." T-Dog replied. Dale and Tori chuckled in agreement, but he could still see the look of worry in Tori's eyes. A few seconds passed before Castiel wandered over. He nodded to him, "Hey, man. You just missed Glenn. He's passing out peaches."

"I caught him first actually." Castiel reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a peach, "He seems unusual this morning."

"See." T-Dog laughed, "Even Cas noticed."

After talking to Dale, T-Dog, and Cas for a while longer, I left them to find something else to do. There had to be a chore or task that needed completing. There was always something around camp. The shooting practice wasn't happening until a little while later so I had time to kill. The plan had been to head over to Carol since she was the one coordinating most of the chores and ask her what she needed help with. As I passed a large, gnarly tree, my right foot suddenly went through the ground into a hole up to my shin, and I was barely able to catch myself before falling and breaking my ankle.

"What the…" I mumbled in annoyance. I steadied myself against the tree and went to pull my foot out only to notice that my foot was stuck. "Seriously?"

This was just embarrassing. All I could think about was how if I had been being chased by a walker this would be how I died. A foot stuck in a damn hole while an undead corpse chewed on my face. That was just mortifying. I grabbed under my knee with both hands and tried to yank my foot out before someone could notice my shame and humiliation.

I tugged it a few time unsuccessfully and on the last forceful tug my foot came out with a sharp flash of pain. I fell back on my butt, my boot still in the hole, and I noticed a line of punctures by the side of my ankle going up a little past it. Somehow—Somehow, the knife in my boot had managed to turn just right so when I pulled my foot out the serrated side dug into my skin.

"Oh, you gotta be shitting me." I mumbled under my breath. The black wasn't on my skin, but it hovered around me and all I felt from it was a smug triumph. Had that damn thing caused this? I pressed my lips together in annoyance and hissed as the wounds began to sting. My blood oozed from the 5 punctures and dripped down my leg to soak into my white sock.

"What the hell?" I glanced over my shoulder to see Shane jog over to my side. He knelt down beside me, "You alright?"

"Yeah, just got my foot caught."

"How'd this happen?" Shane helped me stand.

I rolled my eyes, "It's kind of embarrassing. Can you grab my boot?"

Shane glanced over at the hole. He reached down, and with ease, pulled the shoe from it. Shane also grabbed my knife before motioning for me to follow him. He led me toward the truck, glancing over his shoulder at me every so often to make sure I wasn't toppling over. Walking was fine though since it was just a flesh wound. Of course, if I had the kind of luck where this shit happened maybe he was just making sure a meteor wasn't falling from the sky to crater me into the ground.

Rick and Jimmy were standing at the hood of the truck looking over a map they had stretched out. Shane tossed my boot forward and it hit Rick in the side of his shin. He glanced down curiously before looking up to meet our gazes. Both glanced over at me, so I gave them a smile, "Morning, Rick. Jimmy."

"Morning." Rick replied in surprise. His eyes traced my features, not leaving them, and I tilted my head curiously at his dedicated gaze.

Shane set my knife on top of the map and then turned to me. He slapped the hood in front of him a few times, "Come on." I walked toward him and set my hands on the hood to try and jump up. Shane set his hands on my hips and helped me hop up and get situated. He turned to Jimmy, "Hey, kid, grab me the first aid kit in my bag. It's on top of my sleeping bag."

Jimmy left and Rick's eyebrows scrunched up in worry, "First aid kit?"

I held my leg up and his eyes darted down to my bloody ankle, "I goofed."

"Wanna share the story now?" Shane questioned while peeling off my damp sock.

"Remember how my boot was in the hole?" I asked. He nodded and I glanced at the two of them before sighing, "Well, my foot got stuck in it and when I yanked it out the knife stabbed me. I keep it tucked into my boot remember?"

Shane let out a bark of laughter, "You shitting me?"

"Aw, don't laugh." I pouted and lightly pushed him in the shoulder, "I'm embarrassed enough."

Rick, who was grinning himself, chuckled, "You need a holster for it. I bet Daryl has—"

"Don't tell Daryl!" I cried out. They both shot me a curious look. I twisted my lips in even more embarrassment. "He scolded me for keeping my knife in my boot like that. Like, literally just this morning he told me I needed a holster and I told him I was fine."

Shane's entire body shook with another round of laughter and even Rick was laughing along with him. Jimmy came back with the kit and Shane took it from him. I held my hand open to him, "I can do it."

He pulled the kit back slightly with a smirk, "Should be thanking me."

"Thanks, Shane." I sang with a roll of my eyes. Shane chuckled again before handing it to me and I pulled my leg up to start wiping the blood away and cleaning the wounds. I didn't want to use too many medical supplies, but I needed to clean the dirt away just in case. The last thing I needed was for this to get infected and then I lose my foot over something so damn stupid.

A loud whistle made me jump and I looked up to see Shane waving, "Hey, peach man! Over here."

He was obviously talking to Glenn so I focused back on my wounds while the Korean wandered over. I used just one piece of gauze, unfolding it so it'd cover all the wounds, but that left it a little thin. I really didn't think this would bleed for much longer though.

"The creek flows south, past that farmhouse Daryl found. Maybe Sophia dropped the doll there an' current brought it downstream." Rick spoke from my other side as he motioned to locations on the map.

"So what? You think she took this road here and then went North?" Shane questioned.

"Yeah." Rick turned to Jimmy. "What's up that way?"

The young boy rubbed the side of his face in thought, "Uh, a housing development. It went in maybe ten years ago."

"Take a run up there after gun practice." Rick said. "I'll hold down the fort here, but take back-up. After what went down with Daryl, I don't want anyone going out alone. We stay in pairs."

Glenn finally made his way over and held out his basket in greeting. The same look of shocked worry was written all over his face. Shane didn't pay Glenn a glance and grabbed a peach, "I'll take suggestions on a partner."

"See how they do on the range and then take your pick." Rick suggested while grabbing a peach for himself. He glanced at me, "Victoria, you going later?"

"Yupp!"

"Good." He replied and bit into his peach.

Shane chuckled, "Yeah, I wanna see how little miss hunter here does. After you tossed that gun together in the RV I'm expecting some real talent."

Rick gave both of us a curious look, "Huh?"

"I'm showing Andrea how to clean a gun, right?" Shane held his hands out to make motions while he told the story. There was an amused smirk still on his lips, "Tell Tori to come on over and learn something. Well, she walks over, plops herself down, and throws the gun together without batting an eye."

I awkwardly shrugged, "Just came to me, I guess."

"Hopefully shooting will too." Rick nodded. It was only then that the three of us realized Glenn was still standing by us just staring. His gaze was focused intently on Rick. I furrowed my brow in worry. His behavior had been odd earlier, but now it was downright worrisome.

Shane coughed to get his attention and Glenn jumped at the sound, "My binoculars."

"Yeah…yeah." Glenn shifted the basket to one arm and pulled the binoculars off from around his neck. He handed it over, stood there awkwardly for another beat of silence, then nodded, "Ok, bye."

Rick and Shane shared an amused look, but I just shook my head, "He's been like that all morning."

As I continued to stare after Glenn who looked like he was still in a daze, Beth and Patricia made their way over to Rick. From the sounds of it they were asking to join in on the shooting lessons, but Rick was hesitant since Hershel had ripped him a new one for including Jimmy in anything. I worked on putting away the items I had pulled out from Shane's first aid kit. Shane took it from me, I gave him a thankful smile, then I watched him walk past the truck to head toward Carl who was leaning against the RV in his father's wide brimmed sheriff hat. It looked like he was carving a stick with a knife.

"No offense, but I'll ask Hershel myself."

"We understand." Patricia nodded then the two blondes walked away.

Rick turned back toward me and he picked up my boot to hand back to me. I set it beside myself, pull my bloody sock back on, then pulled the boot on over it. Rick quickly rolled up the map and he finished just in time to watch me stick my knife into my left boot. He lightly smacked my thigh with the rolled up map, "Really, Victoria? Really?"

I glanced at him to see his face drawn in amused skepticism. I chuckled with a shrug, "It was a one in a million accident. What's the chances of it happening to me again, huh? Besides, it's not like I can fit it into my pocket."

Rick shook his head, but his skepticism turned to a warm smile, "I'm glad you're feeling better. You look really good."

"I know." I used my hand to flip my hair over one shoulder.

He chuckled, "We were worried for a minute there."

"Yeah, I know." I repeated, but this time my voice conveyed my gratefulness. The group had been worried about me and that showed me they cared. It truly did mean a lot for me. "I really appreciated that."

"Course. We're family, ain't we?" Rick smirked.

I rolled my eyes, "You spoke to Andrea, didn't you?"

"She may have mentioned something about it over the fire last night." Rick hooked a thumb in his belt and glanced over his shoulder once before focusing back on me with a smile, "So, the two of you are second cousins?"

"Oh, yeah." I nodded. "Dale is the grandfather, Glenn's the little brother that always sticks his foot in his mouth, Carol's the motherly aunt that dotes on anyone in a 12 mile radius, and T-Dog is the annoying ass, older brother that won't stop teasing me."

Rick laughed, "And me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I held a hand out to point at him, "You're the black sheep of the family."

"Oh, am I?"

I slid off the hood to land on my feet, "It's the sad truth. The others didn't want to tell you, but I think it's about time you learned."

"Hmm, right, thank you for that." Rick nodded with a chuckle, "What are you?"

"Huh?"

"Where do you fit in? Who are you?"

It was a simple question. A really, really simple question. It completely threw me for a loop though. Who was I? How did I fit in here? I gnawed on my lower lip in thought, desperate for an answer, but nothing came to me. Rick tilted his head at me slightly, noticing my apparent panic, but I was metaphorically saved by the bell when Lori loudly exclaimed in the camp. Rick hurried over to where she was and I trailed behind. The issue was that Carl had been found holding a gun. The kid picked it up from somewhere, Shane found it on him, and Lori lost her GD mind about it. An entire argument befell the camp where everyone picked a side on whether or not Carl should learn how to shoot properly. Like Rick and Shane, I thought Carl should learn to shoot. We lived in a world where, unfortunately, he couldn't just pretend to be a normal kid. Lori could stick her head in the sand and act like Carl was a normal kid, but in the long run it would only cause him harm. Of course, I never voiced this opinion since she actively looked for reasons to hate me.

Lori pulled Rick aside to talk and I watched them for a moment before a hand hooked through my arm and dragged me back. It briefly startled me until I noticed it was Shane tugging me along, "Help me pack the cars?"

"Yeah, sure." I chirped.

I worked alongside him to move the bags of guns and ammunition into the back of the truck. We also threw in a box of old cans and bottles to use as targets. Shane nudged me as we shut the tailgate, "You nervous?"

"About shooting?" I questioned and he nodded. I gave him a small shrug, "Not really. I think it'll be like the knife thing. Muscle memory or whatever."

If I sounded arrogant about it, I didn't mean to. It was truly how I felt. Before I had gotten shot in the woods, I had been concerned what shooting meant for me. My past was sketchy at best it seemed, and I was fearful of what being a good shot could mean. Right now, though? This group needed as many people who could handle guns well as possible. Also, plus side, if I proved I knew how to shoot I could go with Daryl into the woods to look for Sophia and maybe keep his ass from falling down cliff sides.

"Well here's to hoping you weren't a lousy hunter." Shane said.

Yeah, here's to hoping.

Daryl had moved from the house to his tent way earlier in the day, and now, like Hershel had suggested, he just sat inside of it dying of boredom. He was not the kind of man who enjoyed being idle. Especially when there was so much that needed to be done. This was almost worse than the process of getting shot.

He had changed into a sleeveless blue button up, but left the top few buttons undone since his tent was a little too warm. The breeze this morning had been nice, but as the afternoon rolled in so did the heat. Daryl was leaned back, propped up on his sleeping bag and pillow, poking a bolt through the tent's mesh window. So far, there were four holes, but before he could make five someone pushed into his tent.

"Hey." Andrea knelt down. Her tone was nervous and her fingers were fidgeting around the book she held in her hand. Daryl kept his gaze on her, non-flinching, and Andrea cleared her throat before coming a little closer and holding out the book, "This is not that great, but…"

Daryl took the book from her and flipped through its pages.

"What? No pictures?" Daryl joked.

His words had lessened the tension and Andrea let out a breath of relief. She nodded once, "I'm so sorry. I feel like shit."

"Yeah, you and me both."

"I don't expect forgiveness, but if there's anything I can do—"

"You were tryin' to protect the group. We're good." Daryl cut her off and tossed the book aside before readjusting himself on the sleeping bag. His lip curled in pain when the movement jarred his injury. Daryl shook his head and pointed the bolt in his hand at her, "But hey, shoot me 'gain an' you best pray I'm dead."

Andrea couldn't help but let out a laugh. She shook her head once after a moment, "Wow. I can see why you and Tori get along so well."

"What'dya mean?"

"Tori…she said something kind of similar." Andrea shrugged. "She said it a little nicer, less blunt, but same premise. Safety of the group and all that." Daryl shrugged and felt awkward under the blonde's gaze. She just kept staring at him and apology aside he was about to kick her out with his boot. Andrea chuckled, "You know for future reference, I think you and Tori are nice together."

Daryl's eyes widened, but before he could argue she slipped out of the tent. He rolled his eyes in annoyance and threw the bolt across the tent. People were dumb as shit and nosy as hell too. Stuff like this shit was aggravating. Rumors and gossip about shit they don't know about. The woods were so much easier. Daryl grabbed the book that was brought to him and flipped open to the first page.

We had driven out about ten miles from the farm into a large field. It was far enough that nobody was worried about the noise shooting would bring. I helped the others set up the bottles and cans along a broken wooden fence. Then Rick and Shane lined everyone up about thirty feet away and handed out weapons. Rick set a handgun into my palm.

"It's a glock 22. Be careful." Rick said. I gave him a smile and nod in return.

While Rick and Shane began to explain further, I just stared at the weapon in my hand. The weight and feel of it was familiar. Holding the gun felt a lot like pulling on an old glove. It fit. I glanced to Jimmy who was on my left and Andrea who was on my right.

My eyes drifted back to the gun one last time and I heard Dean's familiar voice murmur at the back of my mind, 'You're good, but when I'm done with you, you'll be the best. Shooting circles around, Sammy.'

The chuckle that left my lips was involuntary. The others began to fire around me while Rick, Shane, and T-Dog walked around giving instructions. I rolled my shoulders once then lifted the gun to take aim. The moment my sights lined up with the light blue bottle placed in front of me everything shifted.

Suddenly, I wasn't looking at a bottle. Instead, there was a mob of crazed people rushing at me. I lowered the gun with a gasp and the bottle was still there. It taunted me. I bit down on my lower lip, lifted the gun again, and there they were. A mob of angry, roaring people clawing and racing toward us. At the back of my head I heard Dean's voice, but it wasn't a warm reminder. It was a sharp memory.

"Take them out! I'm working on the spell!"

Gunshots rang out around me, maybe the memory maybe the group, but I watched as the people racing toward me fell to the ground dead. A single bullet hole in the middle of their foreheads. My gun lowered again, leaving me in the field, and I felt breathless as my hands shook. There was a cold sweat at the back of my neck. What the hell? What the hell? Had I killed… The people in that memory weren't walkers. They looked angry and crazed, but they looked human. What had I done?

"Hey, come on, man. Don't give me that gangsta shit." T-Dog scoffed. I looked over to see him correcting Jimmy. The young boy was holding the gun sideways, but at the scolding he corrected himself. Rick and Shane wandered over, three shots later and he hit the can.

Shane clapped T-Dog on the shoulder and Rick turned to me. He glanced down the lane then back to me, "You haven't hit it?"

"She hasn't fired a shot." T-Dog replied.

Shane barked out a laugh, "What happened to all that big talk?"

"I was wrong." I said quickly. "I—I can't do this. I have my knife, it'll be fine."

Rick shook his head and argued, "You need to know how to shoot, Victoria. What if you get into a tight spot and need to use a gun?"

"Even Carl's fired a shot." Shane mocked in amusement. He waved me off, "Just give her a minute to settle down."

Shane moved past me to Andrea. I hated that. I liked Shane well enough, but I hated being brushed off like a panicked little girl. It was the same thing Lori tended to do to me. It was like they were happy when I failed. They took joy in when I was losing. Like they were superior to me somehow.

"Don't get discouraged." Shane said to Andrea. "You'll hit the target eventually."

"Who said I didn't?" Andrea replied. She motioned to a fence even further back where there were three bullet holes inside the letter 'O' of 'No trespassing'.

I turned back to my bottle, frustrated, and lifted my gun while Shane and Rick congratulated Andrea and invited her to an advanced class after. Again though, all I saw was a crowd of people, but the people had changed. Now it contained familiar faces. Dale, Glenn, Castiel, T-Dog, Rick, Daryl...

When I lowered the gun, Andrea shot me a smug look. It fell into the same category as Shane and Lori. It made anger boil in my gut and it took actual effort to not tackle her into a fight. Rick squeezed my shoulder, "I'll come back down after I help Carl."

Rick left alongside Shane, but T-Dog stuck around to help Jimmy a little more. I flipped the safety on and made the decision to just give it up. That was the plan at least. Andrea stalked over to me, "Looks like sunshine ain't so perfect after all."

I didn't know what it was. It could've been her mocking the nickname Daryl had given me. It could've been the look of smugness in her eyes. It could've been the tone of her damn voice. I don't know. Maybe it was a mix of all three. All I knew was that it pushed me over the ledge I had been toeing. I snapped a glare at her, she chuckled at my anger, then I lifted the gun again.

There was no crowd, only bottles.

I flipped off the safety and then fired seven shots quickly. The blue bottle shattered, three shots nestled into the hole of the letter 'P', and the last three fit into the hole of the letter 'G' in that same sign. Then without blinking, I dropped the remaining clip so the magazine fell to the ground and stripped the weapon in my hand dropping each piece just as quickly.

"Damn." T-Dog whistled.

I turned to Andrea, "Don't call me sunshine again."

Andrea's smug smile had turned sour, and I didn't wait for her to reply. I stalked over to the truck and sat down on the tailgate. The anger and frustration had melted into confliction. It seemed like every time I took a step away from my past something reared up and tackled me from behind. What the hell was I back then? Obviously not an ED Physician. Spells, weird skills, the black, weapons, and now murder?

Was I a murderer?

And how long would it be until I cost the life of someone in my group?

Even if it disgusted me now, what if my memories came back and suddenly, I didn't care about them as much? The sound of knuckles rapping lightly on the metal behind me was startling. I glanced over to see that Rick had wandered over to me. He came around to the tailgate.

"Mind if I sit?"

"I don't even know if I'm allowed to be sitting here technically." I mumbled. Rick jumped up to sit beside me anyways. "How'd Carl do?"

Rick nodded, "He did well. I'm proud. I hear you did pretty well too." I shrugged again, not knowing what else to say. T-Dog probably told him since I doubted Andrea would sing any praises about me. Rick nudged me with his shoulder, "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I… I wish I knew." I replied with a disappointed chuckle.

There was a pregnant pause where we just watched the others begin to pack things up. Shane and Andrea moved toward the other car that was brought with us so they could check out that housing development. Rick was the one to break the silence.

"This has to do with your past doesn't it?" He asked. I looked over to meet his kind eyes. Rick nodded once and his gaze didn't waver, "Are you starting to remember more?"

"I get…I get flashes. Little things."

"Did you…" Rick paused, trying to find the words, "Did you see a memory about the gun? Something that made you not wanna fire?"

I felt my lips twitch into a sad smile as he hit the nail on the head. Rick was an observant guy. I shook my head and turned my entire body, so I was facing him. I sucked in a sharp breath, "Rick, what would you do… What if—What if I wasn't a good person? What if I was dangerous?"

His eyes widened marginally, shocked at my words, but that was the only tell he had. Rick let the words roll around in his head before pushing off the tailgate. My eyes followed his form as he moved to stand in front of me. One hand rested on either side of my legs as he leaned his weight into the tailgate. Rick shook his head, not letting his eyes waver from mine as he firmly said, "You are not a bad person, Victoria."

"Rick—"

"You are not bad." He repeated. "I have met bad people. My entire career was based around bad people, and you? Maybe you've made a mistake, who the hell hasn't, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that you are a good person."

"Hey Rick! We're all packed up!" T-Dog called out. Rick glanced over at him with a nod then looked back to me. His words hadn't settled the war in my mind, but the confidence he had in me warmed my heart. Rick had so much faith in me. For that reason alone, I was determined to never let him down. To never prove him wrong. Rick smirked, "You probably don't want to attend the advanced class, huh?"

I set a hand on his chest to push him back so I could slide off the tailgate. I shook my head, "I don't plan on picking up another gun unless one of the group member's lives depends on it."

"And if your own life depends on it?"

"Well", I nudged him with my elbow, "You'll protect me won't you, Rick?"

Rick gave me a small smile, but I could tell that he wasn't overly happy with my answer.

"You hit like a girl."

At his words, another punch was slammed into Dean's face. After half an hour of this, Dean wasn't even feeling any specific pain. His face just ached. It throbbed with every beat of his heart. Warm blood still dripped from his nose and the gashes left on his skin. The dried portions of blood itched, but his hands were tied behind his back with thick rope. He didn't know where he was. It seemed like some kind of shed, there was only one small rectangular window on the wall across from him and one wooden door behind him.

Sam wasn't here and that worried him the most.

He didn't know where his brother was.

"How many people dream of this?" His attacker cooed. It wasn't the damned djinn, Ryan. Instead, it was a thickly built man with dark skin. Dean had no idea what the guy was, but he knew he wasn't human. "With it being the end of the world, it seems you Winchesters are out of a job! What're you gonna do now?"

"We were thinking of maybe going into modeling? I got a mean blue steel." Dean retorted. His eyes continued to dart around the room looking for some kind of escape. The guy's fist slammed into the side of his face again and this time it took Dean a second to regain his bearings.

The man chuckled while Dean tried to get his vision to unblur, "Funny." He wiped the blood on his fist to his white t-shirt and grinned, "Keep giving me lip, Dean. That might make up for the fact that your brother can't even speak at all right now."

That was all it took to have Dean seeing red.

It was no secret that Sam was his weak spot. Just like it was no secret that Dean would rip apart any man or monster that threatened his brother. Dean's jaw clenched, "I swear, if you put a finger on him I'll fucking kill you."

"Big talk." The man sang. He leaned over to scoop something off the ground. It took Dean a minute to recognize what it was. The small picture of Madison had fallen out of his jacket pocket. "And who is this? Sara Lee?"

Dean was still vibrating with anger. He didn't feel pain anymore. Only homicidal rage. The man pocketed the picture with a sly smile, kicked his boot into Dean's face sending him sprawling to the ground, then stalked out of the shed leaving Dean to bleed on the floor alone.