Daryl hung up the phone one last time as the final ring ended and it went to the automated voicemail. He'd been calling the direct line to Beth's motel room for about the last five minutes, but there had been no answer each time he redialed. In hindsight it was probably for the best. He didn't exactly have a great update for her.

Like he said he would, Daryl had done straight to the shop after he finished nursing his hangover and had been working on that stupid truck ever since. At first, he thought it would be a simple fix, but within the first ten minutes of working, he became far less confident. Her entire engine had seized; and he had confirmed that when he pulled out the dipstick and not a speck of oil could be found on it.

With that information, Daryl knew what he had to do, however, all the "simple" fixes he knew weren't didn't do a damn thing for him. Which meant he had to pull apart the entire goddamn engine. So there he was, standing in the middle of the shop, covered in grease and surrounded by engine parts; but he had nothing to show for it.

He figured the engine was down for the count. But maybe Merle would take a look at it and see he if he could see anything different. Aside from picking the cheapest booze, Merle was pretty damn good at fixing broken things. Things broken with motor vehicles, that is.

Daryl wasn't going to wait for his brother to show up though, it was his self-proclaimed day off, after all. But he knew where he was likely to find him. The one phone number Daryl did know was Lorrie's. He'd seen it flash across the tiny phone screen too many times, warning him about his drunken brother, to not know it. He dialed the number and waited. The moment Lorrie picked it up, he could hear his brother howling in the backround.

"Hello?" Lorrie spoke over his brother's laughter.

"Hey, Lorrie, it's Daryl."

"Oh hi, what do you need?" She asked.

"Do you think I could speak to the idiot for a second?"

Without another word, Lorrie handed the phone off to Merle, who was laughing, even as he spoke. "Whatta you want, Darylina?"

Daryl rubbed his temples. "I need you to come to the shop and take a look at the truck."

"Why?"

"'Cause the engine is probably fucked." Daryl spat out. Merle burst out into an even louder laugh that, for some reason, made the hairs on the back of Daryl's neck stand up.

It sounded like a I know something you don't know laugh; and even though there wasn't a lot Merle knew that Daryl didn't...it was always something frightening.

Merle spoke again, but this time, it was to Daryl at all. "Blondie, you're gonna wanna finish the rest of that."

"MER –" Daryl yelled into the phone, but the line went dead before he could even finish his sentence.

. . .

Fuck. That was one of the only words Daryl could think as he tore into town on his motorcycle. What the hell was Beth doing at Lorrie's and what the hell was she drinking? And how did she get tangled up with Merle?

God, he was like a virus.

If you were left alone with Merle for too long, he'd take every opportunity to drown you in liquor, cigarettes…and other things. Sometimes, Daryl though it was a game for his brother, to see how fast he could corrupt someone; and Beth, with her doe eyes and seeming need to prove something, to either herself or someone, she was like the ultimate undertaking for him.

For a while, Daryl let his brother mess up his own life, and whosever he could dig his talons into. Merle left a path of destruction and chaos wherever they went and Daryl followed. But, unlike some, Daryl had come to his senses; and now he'd taken responsibility for Merle. He wasn't about to be left accountable for a drunken minor being thrown into his path by accident.

As he came closer to the bar, Daryl eased up on the gas. He knew Merle had guessed he was coming and he could still hear the motorcycle from a mile away, but he didn't need to draw any more attention to the bar. It wasn't unusual for people to see his bike outside of Lorrie's, but if he tore in there with guns a blazing on his brother, someone was likely to call Rick. He wanted to give his brother shit, but Merle didn't need another goddamn thing on his record; and Lorrie sure as hell didn't need a reason for Rick to finally have the bar shut down.

Daryl quickly, but trying to remain nonchalant, parked his bike and marched into the bar. He guessed he was going to have to pull Beth off the bar like a drunk college girl while his brother whined and Lorrie offered him a beer. The scene he walked into however, was not that.

First, there was his brother. Merle, for what was maybe only the fourth of fifth time in his life, was standing completely still. His eyes were wide with what was seemingly panic, and he looked like he wanted to run for the hills. Then, there was Lorrie. She had a bottle of vodka in her hand, looking at a half empty glass on the counter, questioning on whether or not she should fill it. Then, finally, there was Beth. Her eyes were just as wide and panicky as Merle's. The only difference was she sitting there crying very silent tears.

"What the hell did you do?" Daryl asked, he heard his voice falter a little. He didn't exactly know what do with crying girls either.

"I- I just told her what you told me and she started cryin'!" Merle stuttered out. "She hasn't said a damn thing. She just sat down and started cryin'!"

Daryl looked to Lorrie, hoping she knew what to do. She was after all a girl, and a mother. But Lorrie just shook her head and finally filled the glass. "Common, Merle."

"Where are we goin'?" Merle looked at her with relief.

"Anywhere but here."

For once, Merle didn't have to be told twice and the two quickly exited the bar through the back door. Leaving Daryl alone with Beth; whose watery eyes were trailing from him, to the glass on the counter then to the cellphone in her hand.

Daryl stood just as still as his brother. Not too sure what Lorrie expected he could do that she couldn't. She was a nice girl, but she probably didn't trust him enough to say shit. At least that's what he thought until she opened her mouth slightly. She spoke so quietly that, at first he didn't hear what she said.

"What?" He asked.

Beth spoke a little louder. "I'm so screwed."