AN…Just want to say a major thank you to everyone who takes the time to review. I'm very open to hearing your theories or ideas for this story, so if you're inspired by anything, please let me know!

Chapter Six

Michonne slept the deep sleep of the drug-induced unconscious as Buffy kept watch. She felt mildly claustrophobic in the cell and the chill in the air from being somewhere with such a small amount of natural light bit icily at her flesh. Spike was safe, wandering around the tombs that had no light at all, killing more zombies for this group they'd found themselves amongst, making this haven more safe for all of them. She relaxed in the chair, her hands shaking a little as she raised them to cover her face, and she breathed deeply. It was a breath of freedom, and at that ironic thought, she couldn't hold in the laugh. Freedom in a jail cell; God must be laughing his ass off. Relief was in the absence of moans, locked far away from her now so that Buffy could finally, finally close her eyes and not fear an attack. Not fear another bite.

A presence at the door cleared their throat in warning and Buffy's eyes snapped open. She had a good feeling about these people—for the most part. There were one or two reasons for a niggling worry to settle on her shoulders—Michonne being one of them—but this woman that stood before her now, with her serene calmness and motherly nature, set Buffy completely at ease. She couldn't quite pick Carol's age, the short, grey haircut at odds with her smooth, unlined skin, but she was betting this woman had experienced much in her life, enough that Buffy felt like she identified with her more than the other two girls she'd met: Beth and Maggie. Maggie was probably closer to her in age, but it didn't take long for the slayer to realise that she wasn't that twenty year old girl anymore who was always mired in personal melodrama. Where the first flush of love meant everything in the whole world.

Not that she had a handle on her emotional life these days. Rubbing shoulders with Spike so closely without the clear understanding between them of what they were to each other, made it all the more difficult. But she accepted it, and knew that they'd probably bumble along together forever without anything being settled. Buffy had recognised the very same lack of resolution of feeling between this Carol and the crossbow slinging redneck they'd saved from Woodbury: Daryl. Seen it in the way the woman had run to him, stopping short of flinging herself into his arms, the smile they shared and the longing in their eyes that neither had the courage to act upon.

Carol stepped inside the cell and smiled in that soft way Buffy was quickly realising was her natural inclination. "You hungry?" she asked, jerking her head back to the table set up outside the cell. "I've got some food for you and your friend."

"Oh, I'm so hungry I could eat a horse, but I think Spike might pass. He doesn't really eat human food, unless you've got some spicy chicken wings or flowering onions hidden out there somewhere."

The explanations and introductions had been made as soon as they'd arrived at the prison, but Buffy knew that the thought of a vampire in their midst might take some getting used to—despite the zombies walking around making it screamingly obvious about the existence of other supernatural mysteries in this earth.

"It's nice to have some new people around," Carol said softly instead, and Buffy appreciated the decision to not focus on the vampire and admired the woman anew for not freaking out. "I'm glad Rick decided to trust you enough to bring you back here."

Buffy's lips formed a genuine grin. "I'm not sure we really gave him a choice. Sorry about the Merle thing. We kind of took that one out of his hands, too."

Carol darted a peak over her shoulder, making sure they were alone, then entered into the cell further, looking nervously at the sleeping Michonne before deciding to risk sitting on the end of her bed.

"I want to thank you for that. Rick's had a lot to deal with and maybe making decisions right now isn't the best thing for him to be worryin' about. And…thank you…for Merle. I know no one is happy he's here—except for Daryl, maybe—but I'm glad he is. Daryl needs his brother, if only to know what kind of man he is."

Buffy eyed Carol warily, deciding how far her opinion would really weigh in here. She was so used to calling the shots and knew she had no right to deliver her opinions to this group of people who'd scraped through this harsh world and managed to survive this long without any supernatural powers to fight their way through.

"I don't know either of them, obviously," she started, suddenly deciding that if she could confide in anyone, Carol was her best bet, and she was so tired of not having a friend she could confide her heart to. Spike didn't count when the majority of her thoughts were ones she'd purposely concealed from him. "But…I think Merle might surprise you. He's a lot of bark, and probably a lot of bite, but I think he really loves his brother. I think a lot of his comments, the insults, are a bit of a smokescreen, you know?"

Carol's eyes lit up and completely transformed her face, leaving Buffy momentarily blitzed at how truly lovely she was. "Don't I know it," the older woman confirmed, and then laughed. "I hope you're right. Not sure Daryl could stand to lose him again." She contemplated Buffy, her eyes narrowing slightly as she smirked. "Your vampire seems like an interesting man."

"We've…been through a lot together." That's all Buffy could commit to for the moment.

Carol nodded, obviously knowing how that worked, especially these days.

"You've been alone this whole time?"

"Yup." Buffy sighed, finally grasping that they were not out there by themselves anymore. They had people to form a bond with, food to eat, a more solid chance at surviving this hell on earth. For the moment she refused to allow submission to the pain that she'd probably never see her friends or family ever again.

"We were sent on a mission to retrieve Michonne, take her to London to the Academy so she could learn about being a Slayer. Spike and I had been in the city for a week searching, and then we were just driving out of Atlanta when the bombs hit. I'm really not sure how we even got out of there without realising there were zombies everywhere, or why I wasn't infected. I guess being a slayer gave me some kind of protection, and maybe Spike already being dead meant he repelled them somehow. Doesn't matter. When our car crashed, we learned about them soon enough and we've been on the run ever since. We only stopped for a little while, about a month ago."

Carol was onto her the second she stopped talking, recognising that something had happened that Buffy was reluctant to mention as soon as the slayer broke eye contact.

"What happened a month ago?" Carol's voice dropping low and quiet, somehow sensing that whatever it was, it was big.

Buffy held her gaze, her own green eyes troubled and pained. "I was bitten."

She knew the news would be frightening—especially to people who knew what the consequences of a bite would be—but it still hurt to see Carol flinch away from her, her back hitting the bar at the end of Michonne's bed, preventing her from falling off the end. The woman covered her mouth, tears springing to her eyes and then she closed them, took in a deep breath and shook her head as if trying to shake off the fear or a memory or whatever else it was that held her in its grip.

"How…?"

Buffy watched as Carol struggled, struggled against some inner demon the slayer could only guess at. The woman opened her eyes, the tears receding and courage reared up instead.

"You survived," Carol breathed, wonder now creeping in past her natural defences. "Where were you bit?" After the initial shock, her curiosity was evident.

Buffy considered for a minute, knowing that admitting to being bitten was a huge risk and if she'd said it to Rick she'd probably have been shot between the eyes before he'd even asked how long ago it had happened. It was dangerous to trust people these days, but Buffy figured it was also dangerous not to. Without a word, she stood and turned, brushing her long, dark blond hair to the side and stripping back the sleeve of her top. The wound had healed in a jagged line from her neck, across her shoulder and down her back—she'd not just been bitten, she'd been mauled.

"It's a miracle she made it," Spike said from behind them, making them both jump at his stealthy appearance. "Didn't expect her to. No one else has, as far as we know."

Carol observed the turmoil he tried to hide but his face shifted through so many expressions that it would have been impossible not to see how much fear he'd harboured at the thought of losing Buffy. The slayer smiled at him, reaching forward and catching his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Added benefits of being a slayer: immune to zombie bites," she giggled and Carol marvelled at her ability to laugh about something that must have been incredibly traumatic for the pair.

"Let's not test the theory a second time, Slayer. Don't think my poor old heart could take it." Before he could say anymore, could reveal how deeply devastated he'd been through that time, he was gone, leaving Carol to study Buffy carefully.

"Old?" Carol asked, her brow crinkled in suspicion. "He looks barely older than thirty."

Buffy laughed, snorting suddenly as she looked at Michonne stirring a little in her sleep and tried to reign in her amusement. "Just like Merle, looks can be deceiving. Spike is about…a hundred and thirty-seven now, give or take a year or so."

Carol's eyes widened, her mouth forming a silent 'wow'.

"How long have you been in love with him?" she shot back and Buffy nearly fell off her chair. It shouldn't have surprised her that the woman would have been as observant of her and Spike as she'd been of Carol and Daryl. For some reason she'd thought Carol wouldn't be someone who would talk so quickly about matters of the heart, but maybe she'd been surrounded by such a blatant display of affection between Glenn and Maggie for so long—Buffy saw the signs of young love, even if they were a little more distant with each other since Woodbury—that she was starving for some other kind of relationship to take her mind off her own lack of one. Not that Buffy had missed the sly glances she aimed at Daryl, or the care she went to make sure he ate. Spike had already told her how he thought things stood between the two, and Buffy could see it now, plain as day. She almost laughed, seeing another pair so obviously in love with each other but with no courage to expose themselves in case they got hurt. It'd be funny if her own lack of courage didn't hurt so much.

"Too many years to count," Buffy admitted sadly. "I only got him back just before all this happened. He thought it was better to stay away, and…well, I don't really know why he came back. I was just so glad that he did and then Giles was sending us over here to get Michonne and I guess I never really had the chance to just stop and think about it and work out what I wanted to do."

Her expression was haunted, remembering what those years without him had been like. Zombies aside, this time she'd been able to spend with Spike had been the highlight of her decade. They were together, working side by side to stay alive, just like old times, and yet neither of them seemed to be able to get to a point where they were fully exposed, hearts laid bare.

"How about you?" Buffy asked, an evil angel propped on her shoulder. "How long have you been in love with Daryl?"

Like a deer caught in headlights, Carol blinked rapidly, whipping her head around to look behind her out of the cell. Seeing no one, she let out a relieved breath.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," she denied, chin up and back straight. Then an evil glint in her eye clued Buffy in, that here was a secret they would share between them, and no one else would be the wiser. "Daryl and I are just friends."

"Yeah," the slayer said, smiling with her new co-conspirator. "Friends. Just like me and Spike. We are so a couple of cowards."

Carol snorted, getting to her feet and putting an end to the little heart-to-heart. "Let's go get you some dinner."

Buffy glanced once more at the sleeping Michonne and shrugged. She wasn't going to do anything but waste time watching over the newly located slayer. She was out like a light and Buffy's belly was grumbling loudly, ordering her to follow Carol toward food.

"I hope you guys don't want me to help with the cooking," she said as an afterthought, shuddering at the very real possibility she'd be forced to come up with something inventive with whatever food supplies she was given.

"I'll second that," Spike called from the steps at the other end of the room, amusement making his blue eyes twinkle. "Slayer can ruin a cup of water if you make her pour it."

"Hey!" She stood, indignant, hands on hips and staring at Spike with a frown on her lips. "I can totally pour water. It's putting stuff in it I have a problem with."

Merle's huff of laughter from the opposite corner of the room had her swinging around and pinning him with a glare. "Well, what was yer mamma doin' all those years, not teachin' ya'll how to properly take care of a man?" He eyed her up and down and by the grin that split his face, she could see he liked what he saw. Pig.

"My mom," Buffy said while slowly walking toward Merle and sliding into a seat at the table near him, "couldn't teach me something she didn't know." She shrugged, the memories of Joyce and her glasses of wine over Chinese or Pizza making her smile wistfully. "We had a lot of take out."

"Hey," Spike countered, looking a little affronted. "Joyce could make a mean hot chocolate, and those tiny little marshmallows were pure genius."

Buffy giggled. "Oh yeah, those took some real skill. She totally knew which store to buy them from and everything."

They shared a happy smile, remembering Buffy's mother and happier times when they'd all been so young and relatively innocent. Except Spike—he was never young and a resounding no to the innocent.

Carol placed a steaming bowl of something that looked interesting in front of Buffy and the slayer moaned out loud. All the men sat up a little straighter at the sound, except for Spike who was used to being in a perpetual state of arousal around her anyway.

"Oh my God, how long has it been since we had hot food?" Buffy asked, diving straight in and not even questioning what it was. She'd long ago had to get used to the meat that Spike provided—though she drew the line at having to skin the things, and even with an open fire and a chunk of meat on a stick, she still managed to do little more than char the edges.

Spike looked at how thin she was—not quite gaunt as Buffy always seemed to exist on little more than air anyway, but still smaller than was healthy for her. So he was pleased she had an appetite and he only hoped they could sustain a food source now in order for it to continue .

"Must be a couple of weeks since I've been able to catch anything," he confirmed, barely being able to look away from her as she attempted to slow down after the first few spoonfuls, fixated on her throat as she swallowed each mouthful down, moaning like it was the first meal she'd had in months.

Heavy boots echoed from beyond the gate, indicating someone returning from watch. Rick stood and went to unlock the gate, letting Daryl in and Glenn and Maggie out to take his place on watch, all of them packing serious heat. Daryl strolled over and sat down, gave Carol a nod of acknowledgement as she set a bowl in front of him and he tucked into the food. Everyone watched him finish within a matter of minutes, stand to pass the bowl back to Carol and then lean against a wall, eyes piercing as they settled on Rick.

"Got new people, need a new watch roster," he said and Buffy watched as the two men had a longer conversation through looks alone. Whatever passed between them, Buffy still recognised the level of distrust they'd be foolish not to have for them, and decided to meet them half way.

"How about Spike patrol with Daryl, and I'll team up with Carol?"

"Buffy," Spike protested as Daryl stepped forward, making his disagreement obvious with a resounding, "Hell no."

"You saw what she did on the way back, Rick. Carol's not goin' out there alone with her." Daryl stood his ground, not even flinching when Spike swept to his feet and stared down his nose at the scruffy, dirty, crossbow wielding idiot, finger stabbing the air in front of him as he made his point.

"She wouldn't hurt a fly, you pillock. Your girlfriend is safe as houses."

"Spike?" Buffy pulled on the sleeve of his duster, dragging him out of Daryl's personal space. "It's okay. They'd be stupid to trust us. You know that, and if the roles were reversed, you wouldn't trust them, either."

"Who says I bloody trust them now? Still got to sleep with one eye open in case I cop a stake to the chest. And this idiot," he pivoted and pointed to the one-legged old man who looked like he was in the running to be the next Kris Kringle. "He bloody cracked open the good book while Merle and I were talking weapons and fixing up that nifty little knife on his stump." Spike looked horrified, not expecting to be bombarded with religion on the inside of a prison.

"A bible won't kill you, Spike," Buffy giggled, and Spike relaxed.

"No, but the bloody cross on the front might burn a bit," he admitted, sheepish as he backed off. Turning back to Daryl and shooting him a well-earned glower, he clamped his hands on his hips and pursed his lips. "Who do you suggest, then? Slayer could kick all your arses right over the fence, so whoever it is better be someone you don't give a crap about."

Daryl and Rick did that weird invisi-conversation thing again and in some freakish ability no one could comprehend, they came to a decision.

In perfect unison, they offered up Buffy's new watch partner. "Axel."