Disclaimer: Buffy The Vampire Slayer was Created by Joss Whedon and is property of many companies but not me. The Walking Dead was created by Robert Kirkman and the show, which is the world I am referencing in this, is shared with Production Creators Frank Darabont and Angela Kang.

Arthur's Note: About 4 - 4½ months out. I have written some things in-between the last chapter and this one, but they did not add much to the story in the way of movement or y'all would have had an update about 3 weeks ago. Since then, the 2020/2021/2022 Ick got me and I was out for the count for a bit, but I have survived, thank my youth because I am not a healthy person. Anyway, onward.

Trigger warning for Shane being… Shane, y'all already aware of the possibility and probably wondering why there hasn't been more in this story already. We will be breaking out of winter soon

[18]

The farmhouse gave the group a good many things; food for the winter, the ability to grow and raise more in the spring, safety from the weather. What it lacked was growing more obvious by the day.

Other than milking the cows and mucking the stalls, the days had come to a crawl. The horses did not take long to brush, the hens laid on a schedule now that the coop had been reinsulated and everyone was careful to keep the sink empty to prevent any creepy crawlies from making their way in for crumbs. In the corner of each person's bedroom the clothes continued to pile up despite the ability to cold wash in the tubs, water rationing until the snow would melt again in Spring beyond their necessary drinking or cleaning.

Sensitive to the sweat on her own body and the stale air permeating the room, Lori shifted in bed, symbiote expressing displeasure by following the motion with a wave of nausea. Hand running along the small protrusion they calmed down and she moved from bed with one hand along the wall for balance, heading for the faint light spilling under the door to the hall. Opposite the room, a lantern burned low on the table that housed the downstairs night light and she left the bedroom door ajar as she headed for the kitchen. Socked feet kept her toes from freezing, the boards quiet between their room and her destination.

That afternoon's tea was cold in the mug where she had left it, unconcerned with discoloring the cup if it saved them from having to brew fresh for another sip. The house seemed still, chilly even in the flannel over her night shirt as she leaned forward to look beyond her reflection to see if she could steal a glimpse of her husband's perch in the barn. Those on watch rotated position and shifts; someone on the front porch, and another in the barn. Dale usually volunteered the second part of the morning shift, an early riser, relieving whoever watched from the house while Daryl liked the loft above the cattle to himself, closing his eyes for a few whenever someone came to relieve him. No doubt they were both awake this evening, regardless how warm the bovine made the place.

The brunette smiled as she moved away, without heat to fog the glass or fluorescents to dilute the natural light the outside the world was frozen but for the passing of shadows, clouds caught between the snow and the faint light of the stars. No matter what she thought she could not make out their figures from the distance and she doubted they could see her in the darkened room. Throat clearing, she made to take another sip when awareness washed through her, hair along the back of her neck prickling before she could identify the concern.

The man's frame was larger than her own, filling the air behind her, firm hands running up her shoulder blades and over the thin muscles along her neck. Seeing his face take shape in the reflection beside her own, Lori fought the urge to turn around, spine stiffening, "A little early for Dale to relieve you, isn't it?"

"I saw you through the window, wanted to make sure you were ok," the space behind her opened a bit, pressure relieving as he took a step back, "the baby. You having trouble sleeping?"

Lori had been careful to keep their interactions to minimum, always avoiding being alone for too long, ensuring if she was it was only when Shane was away. Looking down she pulled the bag from the water it had saturated, tying it on the sink beside two others to dry out, "I'm fine, we're fine." Reaching for her elbow once her hands were free, she scratched at her skin, nails coating with a fine layer, "Hard to sleep alone."

"Yeah, I remember," the air felt thick in the moments after, "He's been taking a lot of shifts out there lately. I was wondering, if you might've told him about us." As she turned around to look directly at him, her hands on either side of herself along the counter, his gaze dropped down and up again, "About whose baby that really is. Seems to me that'd be the kind of thing he might want some distance from."

Though there was still a step between them, the weight on Lori's chest made her feel sick, a thin layer coating the inside of her cheeks, "Shane," in the time it took her to clench her hands in together, ringing the agitation from them, the man had moved forward again, filling her space and taking her mouth under his. Alarmed, Lori recoiled in the strong embrace that wrapped around her, small bump keeping his chest from crushing against hers as she tried to pull back, "Shane!"

This time there was no booze to blame his actions on, or the desperation of her being suddenly beyond his grasp. The panic was immediate as the thought flooded her even though he made no move to act beyond a kiss, the invasion still the same, unwanted. Beyond him the light shifted in the hall momentarily, small frame casting a thin shadow before Carol's sharp voice saved her, "Just what is going on here?"

[Break]

Raised voices woke the light sleepers on the second floor, disoriented with the sound out of place given the time but not panicked as they were all belonging to the group. It was not until the sound of a slamming door did anyone move to investigate, Dawn meeting Tara's gaze from across the hall as she exited T-Dog's room. Tabling Dawn's minute blush for later, the two women moved down the stairs, the living room more than a few degrees cooler than the reminder of the house following whoever had exited in a hurry. Outside, heavy boots passed the boards before something struck the side of the house between the front door and window. Judging by the loud grunt the perpetrator was already regretting the action.

Fresh light bloomed in the kitchen, Carol's voice softly urging the kids back to bed while Lori sat in one of the chairs at the table, paler then usual. Leaning down beside her, Dawn caught her attention as Tara got the gist of what had happened by the time Dale came in from the mud room door, "Is everything ok? Shane left in a hurry." Looking from one woman's face to the next bewilderment turned to concern,

"What is it?"

By the time Rick had determined no one was going to come out to the barn to advise there was no danger and Daryl had given the clear that he would cover him as he stalked in the dark to the house, Dale was stepping back out the house to meet him, "Where's Shane off to? Is everyone ok? Lori? Carl?"

Dale's palms faced him open and wide, gesturing to calm down in thick gloves, "Everyone is safe, they're alright." Watching as Rick looked in the direction his friend's tail lights had disappeared the older man sighed, "but that," whiskered lips pursed and struggled against a word he discarded, "Shane cannot come back here Rick."

The shreds of friendship he had been grasping strained the muscles of his chest, brows furrowing, "We've been through this-"

"He attacked Lori, Rick, assaulted her in the kitchen." When the officer moved to pass him, Dale grabbed his arm but was shaken free, kept out of the house only by his leaning forward on the door he needed to open, "Carol is with her, and you need to hear this. That man, that is not your friend anymore Rick. Before this he may have patrolled with you, you may have grown up together, but Shane is not that man anymore and if you want to keep your wife safe, he needs to go."

Only when Rick acquiesced did Dale straighten from his position leaning against the storm door and let him inside.

[Break]

By morning Shane's belongings were packed and on the porch as his Jeep made it's way up the drive. Arms crossed across his chest, Rick stood in front of the steps, face a dark storm of emotions with Glenn behind him. Inside the door, T-Dog kept the living room clear though the rest of the house would be able to hear any yelling regardless of the space.

Thick fingers gripped the steering wheel until the skin was white enough to see through the glass as Shane stared at his ex-partner, the man whose wife should have been his. Another day he could get out of the car and apologize, say he did not know what got into him and that it would not happen again, but not today. Today it hurt to look at Rick, fighting the urge to reach for his glove box he saw Rick shift in response to his look in that direction and stilled. Behind Rick, Glenn straightened, and Shane grit his molars together, taking a deep breath before exiting,

"So that's it then? After all I've done for you, for the group?" At his words, Glenn drew closer behind Rick, standing over the two bags the Deputy had packed his life into before picking up Lori and Carl and getting them to safety. His shotgun waiting at the railing, unclear if it was for his collection or to be used against him.

"You know why."

Lips pursing, gloved hand running over his face, Shane moved for the house, Rick angling his body to stop him from proceeding, "I want to see her."

"She doesn't want to see you."

Gesturing, Glenn was unable to stuff his hands in his pockets as he normally would, cap keeping his hair from moving around his face as he shook his head, "Come on man, don't make this worse."

"Worse?" He glared at the other man who had assisted him in keeping the group's supplies up, someone he thought would have appreciated his skills, "You're sending me out there with nothing. You're sending me away from…" The words would not make their way out, rubbing his chest, "you think that's right?"

Rick looked back at Glenn, nodding for him to give them a minute, the young man's eyes widening, imploring him to reconsider. Nodding again he turned into the house, leaving the screen door open to head out at a moment's notice. Inside T-Dog looked up from his place on the couch, hands swinging out at his sides as he wondered if he needed to take his place. Shaking his head Glenn moved to by the window to keep an eye out on them muttering, "Wanted a minute alone."

Watching, Rick stepped closer to their ex-guide, leaning forward to talk to him lower than they could hear, and the other man's face was hidden from view. When Rick pulled back, Shane's eyes belonged to a different person, T-Dog heading to go out when Glenn's hand caught his shoulder, "Wait."

Stepping back, Rick grabbed Shane's bags in one hand and gave them to him, guiding him the Jeep as he grabbed Shane's shotgun. "He emptied that, right?" Glenn looked back at T-Dog at his questioning, watching as Rick waited until Shane was seated to move it into the backseat through the window. By the time Shane pulled back out of the driveway they were standing at the door, waiting for the moment they felt was coming, unsure if they were relieved, or uneasy when it did not arrive.

[Not too far, elsewhere in Georgia]

The Sportsman's Deer Cooler was all but empty when they found it, tables shoved to one side of the room opposite the freezer door, hooks left bare in the cooler itself. Beyond the once cold storage the delivery room shelves were bare except for a few boxes and half empty soda bottles. Michonne had sipped sparingly on the flat beverages until they were empty, refilling the bottles with snow and slipping them into her jacket against her body. Though the process left her shivering, it kept her hydrated, something her partner seemed not to struggle with.

While they stopped travelling, other than to pillage the surrounding buildings, Michonne found why she did not need to share her provisions within their first week together. Spike spoke of the group he had been searching for, not his own though he spoke of them as well, but the people he was hunting.

"Heard them call themselves The Living," picking his fingers, he snorted at the name, "Pricks think they have a name they can do what they please. Drive around looking to take the work of others." He looked at her, eyes warning, "Find you alone, do the same they did those women."

Michonne had thought of the women she had come across, how drawn in on themselves they had been. Weathering the dead was hard enough without the remaining dregs of humanity stealing their will from them. The encampment she had followed their attackers too had been dealt their justice before she arrived, and she quickly pieced together the oddity she had noticed in some of their deaths.

Though they did not spend every waking hour together, their schedules at opposite ends, she knew enough to determine he had not eaten any of their provisions at the end of their week together. She did not need to attach herself to someone that was determined to end his own life, and set to finding out what, if he was, eating. Seeing his face when she did come upon him eating was not as surprising as it would have been before the outbreak, though her blade was still in her hand when he looked up at her.

Silence had stretched between them until he decided she was not going to strike against him and finished the animal he had found, licking his palms and fingers clean as he watched her, "I'd've already done it if I were going to, bird." While the sentiment may have been true she found herself sleeping further away from him for a few nights after until the men he had been talking of found them.