Author's note: Rated for graphic depictions of violence.

This takes place about four years after when the events of the show began

XxX

Chaos. That's the only way to explain what the stadium has turned into, pure and utter chaos.

The girl clinging to his arm lets out a little shriek as Gordon, or what used to be Gordon, lunges at her with his fingers spread wide and his mouth snapping. Daryl kicks his knee as hard as he can and hears a distinctive pop. Off balance the man staggers and falls to the stage but he gives no other indication that he has felt his knee dislocate. He drags himself across the floor towards them as the screams around them begin to change from those of fear to pain.

"What's wrong with them?" his companion cries, her shrill voice seeming to only draw more attention their way. Daryl ignores her as he shoves away another shambling person, this time one of the road crew he'd lost at cards to just the night before. Guess he didn't need to worry about paying him that fifty bucks back.

The crowd begins to start surging up onto the stage, bloody hands clawing and pulling themselves over the edge. Daryl swears and shoves another thing away as he scans the stage wildly. Once again, he tries to shake his arm loose but she just clings to him like a barnacle. Still cursing he uses his free hand to slip his taser from its holster. He wishes he had the crossbow he always took hunting but wishing never did him any favors and his bow is too far away to do anyone any good. Daryl is going to have to work with what he has which isn't a whole hell of a lot.

The grip on his arm tightens to a painful level and he turns back to snap at her to let go only to get blood splattered across his face as she begins to scream. It takes Daryl a moment to realize what he is seeing.

The bassist is chewing on her neck.

She stares up at Daryl with pitiful brown eyes and he staggers as he finally manages to pulls his arm free.

There is nothing he can do to help her now.

There is nothing he can do to help any of them.

Still blinking blood from his eyes Daryl takes a shaky step backwards and swears as hands begin to claw at his back. He raises his fist as he turns, already halfway through a swing when he recognizes the wide blue eyes looking up at him.

Unlike the yellow and filmy eyes of everything surrounding them hers are still miraculously clear.

Daryl drops his fist to grip her elbow, pulling her after him backstage. If they can make it out of the building, they might just stand a chance.

"We gotta go Beth."

She nods numbly and follows him at a run through the crowd on the stage ripping each other to pieces. They are picking their way through the tangled equipment backstage when it occurs to Daryl that this is the first time in four months she's done what he said without argument.

XxX

With Merle back in jail for the foreseeable future Daryl knew he needed to find something to occupy his time and bring him in a little bit of money. He'd been hoping for something with cars, even if it was just pumping gas at the local station. He'd asked Caesar to keep an eye out for him but the other man seemed to have different ideas about what kind of work he should be doing.

"Bodyguard? Seriously?"

"Don't give me that look man you'd be good at it."

"At what? Protecting some old white guy whose so rich he doesn't even wipe his own ass?" Daryl shook his head as he rolled his eyes. He could think of a lot of jobs he'd do before he resorted to that.

Caesar threw a wadded napkin at his head that Daryl swatted away easily. "Course not. I got something way better lined up for you."

Daryl looked at him over the lip of his bottle, curious despite himself, and Caesar grinned, knowing he was interested now. He pulled out his phone and tapped something into it before swinging it around to face Daryl. A picture of a pretty girl with an acoustic guitar stared up at him.

"Beth Greene, heard of her?"

Daryl shook his head no. He figured she had to be some country singer judging by the boots she was wearing and while Daryl didn't have anything against country music the most current music he listened to had been recorded in 1998. She was probably still using training wheels back then.

"Country singer from right here in Georgia. Friend of mine is in her band. Rumor has it her daddy's pushing her to get someone to look after her." Caesar shook his phone in front of Daryl as if that would tempt him to take the job.

"I ain't a babysitter." Daryl grunted, finishing off his beer and hopefully this conversation.

"No but you'd be a damn good bodyguard. One look from you and nobody would fuck with her."

Daryl rolled his eyes. He wasn't that tough looking but Caesar would pull out all the stops, including flattery, to get what he wanted.

"No thanks." he grunted, pushing back his stool and getting to his feet. He should've known better than to ask someone for help. He'd always known you had to do everything yourself. He wasn't sure why he had let himself forget that, even momentarily.

Caesar leaned his chair back on two legs and stared up at him with a smirk, "Don't you at least wanna know what it pays?"

Daryl looked down at Caesar and from the smug grin on his face Daryl knew he was going to regret asking.

He was right of course, but even Daryl could never have guessed just how much he would grow to regret that moment and all of the moments since.

XxX

Gesturing for Beth follow after him Daryl creeps carefully down the hallway to her dressing room. His hands curl around a piece of pipe he'd ripped off the stage as they were fleeing. The sweat on his hands is making the metal slick and Daryl is worried if he has to use it, it will swing out of his hands and be useless.

A tap on his back captures his rambling thoughts and he looks over his shoulder at Beth who is pointing behind them at a security guard ambling their way. Daryl can see the blood on his neck from here and knows without seeing his eyes that whoever he used to be he is one of those things now. Thankfully these things don't seem to be too fast, Daryl ignores it and gestures for Beth to head into her dressing room. With one last apprehensive look over her shoulder she does.

The room is untouched. For a moment Daryl almost lets himself pretend this is all a bad dream, that all of those monsters out there aren't real at all. Then he catches another look at Beth and notices the blood splattered across her dress and reality falls back around him.

"You hurt?" he asks gruffly, feeling a bolt of terror course through him and fighting to keep it from his voice. If she dies, he'll be the only one left and Daryl doesn't want to be alone with only those freaks for company.

Beth shakes her head as she begins to gather some things haphazardly, like she's not even aware of what she's doing. "It's Abby's." she whispers.

Daryl swears softly as he watches her blink back tears stubbornly. Abby, Beth's manager, was good people. He doesn't say anything in response. He doesn't know what to say and even if he does, neither of them has time to mourn her right now and who knew if they'd even be able to get out to mourn her later?

Double checking that the door is locked Daryl begins to pick through the room, putting anything that could be useful into a pile while he looks for a bag. The sound of a zipper catches his attention and he looks over at Beth, startled to see her slipping her dress off her shoulders. Daryl spins around to face the wall as his face heats up.

"The hell you doing?" he grunts suddenly very fascinated with the painting on the wall of the city they're in, inspecting the Golden Gate bridge bathed in light and trying to pretend she wasn't undressing mere feet away from him.

"You expect me to fight those things off in a dress?" Beth huffs. Daryl can practically hear her rolling her eyes. Lord knows he was used to seeing it.

She has a point so Daryl ignores the sound of her getting dressed behind him and keeps picking through the racks of her costumes, hoping he'll find something useful. A worn blue backpack is sitting on the floor, nearly hidden by the clothes. Daryl grabs it and dumps it out, shoving tattered notebooks aside as he sorts through its contents.

"Those are coming with us." Beth says. Daryl looks up as she kneels down in front of him, gathering the notebooks into her arms like they are precious things. Recognizing her handwriting on the corner of one of them Daryl realizes that to her, they probably are.

Still though, it was just more weight to carry and for what? "Ain't no one gonna wanna hear your precious songs no more girl." Not if the rest of the world looks like the inside of this stadium.

Beth's eyes flash and the smile she gives him is more a baring of teeth. "Don't worry Mr. Dixon, I won't be singin' any songs for you."

XxX

"I take my daughter's safety very seriously as I'm sure you can understand." Hershel Greene leveled him with a look that made Daryl nod along even though he didn't have any daughters and his parents sure never gave a shit about him so no he didn't understand at all really.

"Gotta do what's best for your girl." Daryl muttered sagely, trying not to look as out of place as he felt in the clean room.

He'd agreed to the interview Caesar had set up for him and he'd expected to interview at some big studio in Atlanta or maybe a fancy restaurant and even score some free food. He hadn't expected to have to drive nearly three hours out into the sticks to an old farmhouse.

But hey, at least he still got a free meal out of it.

Hershel nodded and steepled his hands together and watched Daryl eat his chicken silently. He tried not to make it look like he was eating his first real meal in...well shit he couldn't remember the last time he ate food that didn't come from a gas station or a dollar menu or that he hadn't killed himself. Maybe the last time Caesar's girl sent him to the bar with arepas?

"Your daughter been tourin' a while now?" Daryl asked, wiping his hands on a napkin to look somewhat civilized, hoping to distract the other man from the way he was eating like a starving man.

"This is her second tour."

"She have a bodyguard on the first?" Daryl asked curiously although what he really wanted to ask was why the hell did she need a babysitter to go play country music to drunk rednecks.

Hershel shook his head and sat up straighter in his chair. "The truth is Mr. Dixon." Daryl shifted uneasily in his seat at the name, he'd never been called that before in his life and if it always made his stomach twist up like he was about to lose the food he just ate, he didn't want to be again. "We had a bit of an incident at an interview last month. I worry it might repeat itself on tour and I am unable to leave my practice for that long to keep Bethy safe myself."

"What kind of incident?" Daryl asked as a hurricane swept into the room.

At least she looked like a damn hurricane what with her big blue eyes blazing at her father and her blonde hair tumbling out of its braid. Ignoring Daryl completely she crossed her arms over her chest and stared her father down. He looked back at her silently and completely unsurprised as if he had been expecting this. Daryl shoved another bite of food into his mouth with an uneasy feeling he was being ambushed.

"It was one girl Daddy and she's sick. She didn't realize she was doing anything wrong." the woman said stubbornly. Hershel was shaking his head before she finished talking. This was clearly an old argument.

"I know that doodlebug but she's not going to be the only one." the woman who Daryl knew to be Beth spluttered and began to protest but Hershel rose his voice to talk over her. "She was in your dressing room Bethy. Yes, she was harmless but the next person may not be."

"Got a stalker huh?" Daryl asked looking between the two of them as the pieces clicked into place.

Beth huffed and turned a megawatt glare onto him. He damn near recoiled at the heat in her eyes. "She wasn't a stalker." she snarled. "She was-"

"Sick, yeah I heard." Daryl went to take another bite before looking down and realizing his plate was clear. Fighting back a sigh of disappointment he placed his fork down on the table and turned to Hershel. "How much you paying?" Caesar had told him a number but he'd been wrong before.

Hershel looked over at him curiously. "I haven't decided you have the job yet."

Daryl shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "I ain't decide I want it yet."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Hershel's mouth as he turned to look at Beth. "You're the one he'd be working for; do you think he'd be a good fit?"

Beth didn't spare Daryl another look as she hugged her arms tighter around herself and glared at her father. "I don't need a chaperone Daddy."

Hershel opened his mouth to respond and placate his daughter but before he got the chance Daryl cut in, repeating what he'd told Caesar days ago, "I ain't no damn babysitter." Both of their heads swiveled to look at him but Daryl kept his eyes trained on Beth. She was the one he'd be hired to protect so hers was the only opinion that mattered.

Her pale brows lowered as she surveyed him for a long moment. Daryl stared back stubbornly, keeping his languid pose and barely resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest and mimic her posture. After several minutes of what felt like the staring contests he and Merle used to get into Beth let out a long sigh and dropped down into a chair.

"What are your qualifications?" she asked the begrudged tone in her voice as loud and clear as the glare she sent her father.

Two hours later Daryl left the farmhouse with a job and a plate of leftovers.

XxX

They both know that they can't just stay in the dressing room and wait for those things to find them. Daryl had accepted long ago that he was going to die young but being ripped apart is not a way he wants to go. Deciding to make a run for the tour bus is easy for Daryl once Beth tells him she has a key. Not so easy is getting her to agree with him.

"There could be other survivors." She argues, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

Daryl doesn't look up from breaking the top off the vanity table. "Everyone out there is dead."

He looks up in time to see Beth shake her head furiously. For a moment he thinks she's fighting back tears but when she locks eyes with him all he sees is fury. "You don't know that."

"They might as well be!" Daryl snaps, dropping his hold on the table to step closer to her. Mindful of the things that might be outside of the door Daryl fights to keep his voice somewhat quiet as he spit, "Even if they are alive what the hell do you wanna do? Go back into that mess and try to find them? Hell no blondie. We stay here, we'll be dead too."

Beth glowers at him but in the end, she says nothing else, turning to take her anger out on the table they are ripping apart. They continue working in a silence that, despite everything happening outside, feelings comfortingly familiar.

There isn't a whole lot of supplies in the dressing room but they gather anything useful. Some snacks, a small first aid kit, a few bottles of fancy water. They break apart the table as quietly as they can, each armed with a long metal leg wickedly sharp at the end. Not for the first time Daryl wishes Hershel would have let him carry a gun but he was adamant that he didn't want guns around his little girl. Too bad, a gun might just save her life now.

Beth shifts her bag, stuffed with the food and her damn diaries or whatever, higher up on her shoulders. Daryl offers to carry it but she shakes her head and pulls it onto her back like he's going to yank it from her.

"You're a better fighter than me." is all she says as she tucks her jeans into her boots. She's right so Daryl doesn't bother arguing with her, but still it is good to know she has some common sense when it comes to end of the world situations.

Because that is what this has to be. There is no way to come back from people ripping each other apart with their bare hands and teeth, none that Daryl can think of anyway.

"Stick close to me." Daryl mumbles as they stop before the door.

She nods mutely, clutching her weapon in one hand and a large key ring in the other. She carries an extra bus key in her bag so that she can go onto the tour bus whenever she wants without having to find the driver. A small mercy for them now since it gives them somewhere close by to go to get away from whatever the hell the stadium has become.

The door opens soundlessly on its hinges and Daryl flexes his hand on the beam casting a look up and down the hallway. The lights flicker in a nauseating way but there is nothing there but them and a few blood splatters by the turn to the stage. Daryl takes a small step outside and beckons for Beth to follow him. The heels of her boots click softly on the floor and Daryl grits his teeth together to keep from snapping at her. If they survive this, they'll have to find her shoes that make no sound or train her how to walk like a ghost like him.

For two turns they see no one else, living or dead or whatever in between hell those people are all stuck in. Rather than relaxing with each empty turn Daryl's muscles only tense up tighter. He is sure that he'll turn a corner and see an army of those things waiting for them.

Somehow, they make it to the door leading outside without running into anything. Daryl realizes with a sinking feeling in his gut that everyone must have gone out to the stage and the crowd. That's where the meat is after all and whatever those things are they seemed hungry. He feels sick with himself for thinking of human beings as meat but it is easier that way. He doesn't have time to grieve for a bunch of people he doesn't know and never will. Right now, he has to get them to the safety of the bus and then figure out what the hell is happening.

Beth and him hover by the door for a moment as he tries to listen through the heavy steel for sounds outside. All he can hear is Beth's ragged breathing and his own blood pounding in his ears. Daryl shuts his eyes tight and tries to listen past it but the door is too thick. He opens his eyes to find Beth staring back at him nervously, without thinking he reaches over to squeeze her arm in comfort. She lets out a shaky breath at the contact before she nods and steps closer to him.

Daryl feels like he should say something before he opens the door and throws them to whatever wolves or monsters are waiting for them. He's never been the best at speeches and judging by the side-eye Beth gives him he really should leave the words to her when what comes out his mouth is, "Good a night to die as any."

Before either of them can overthink it any longer Daryl swings the door open.