A/N: The lyrics in this chapter are taken from the song "To Be Treated Rite" by Terry Reid. If you ever watched The Devil's Rejects you'd recognize it. You can also hear it on YouTube, which I highly recommend. It's a beautiful song and the lyrics fit so well with The Walking Dead it's uncanny.

Disclaimer: Like it or not, The Walking Dead does not belong to me.

Oh we are what we are when in danger

And we are as we stand head in hand

When a friend brings to light

On a cold silver knife

You can stare your fate right into his hands

Into his hands

Daryl had either trained her well or Lia was an excellent student. Once she reached the site of the overturned cube van she found Daryl's trail without much trouble. The sun sank lower and lower as she followed the trail's winding passage through the woods. After a while she noticed a pattern; Daryl was searching the area in a widening spiral. With this in mind, Lia figured she might be able to head him off. She cut a straight path outward until she no longer saw any sign that Daryl had passed through, then began tracing a path backward from the direction she knew he would be heading. The sun sank below the treeline and the light took on a gray quality before she heard a man's voice calling faintly.

"Merle!"

Lia's pace quickened. She came to a standstill the moment he came into view, as did he when he saw her. He looked exhausted. His raggedly cut hair was plastered to his skin, his face was red from exertion and too much sun, and his sleeveless shirt was soaked through with sweat.

Daryl scowled at her. "The hell 're you doin' out here?"

"It's getting late," Lia responded, "You shouldn't be out here on your own."

He stared at her, then started walking. "I ain't goin' back," he said as he passed her.

Lia trailed after him. "I need to tell you something."

"Merle!" he called out, ignoring her, "Merle! You out here?"

"You need to hear this," she persisted.

"What I need 's t' find my brother."

"He's dead."

Daryl hesitated for a second, then kept going. "If he's dead I'll bury 'im."

Lia swallowed nervously. "Not 'if', Daryl. Your brother is dead."

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. "What th' fuck are you talkin' about?"

Lia took a breath. She held her hands out as she began to explain, "About a week before your people showed up, the lookouts saw a white van driving by. It was moving erratically, like the driver was drunk or something, then it swerved off the road altogether and rolled into that trench. We weren't sure if the driver was infected or hurt, or if he was even still alive, but we needed to be sure.

"Jessie was closest to the crash. She knew she should've waited for the rest of us, but" Lia shrugged sadly, "she wanted to help. I was jogging towards her with a bunch of the older kids when I saw her disappear into the trench. A few seconds later I heard her screaming and I ran ahead of the others and reached the trench first. I saw Jessie on the ground with a man on top of her. He was hitting her and trying to rip off her clothes." Lia swallowed thickly. "I saw that his right hand was missing. The stump was black and I could smell the gangrene even from where I was. I couldn't understand half the stuff he was yelling. He was delirious. But what I did understand was some of the most hateful things I'd ever heard.

"I didn't want to risk shooting him while he was on top of Jessie, so I jumped down into the trench and used my club. I wish I could say I tried to just knock him out, but," her expression hardened for a moment, "he was hurting one of my kids. I swung my club as hard as I could and saw his skull cave in. Then he just...fell over."

Daryl stared, his expression a mixture of distress and disbelief. When Lia finished her tale, he shook his head emphatically. "You're lyin'. That never happened."

Lia fixed him with her sorrowful gaze. "Why would I make this up?"

"It wasn't Merle," he clung to his denial, "It wasn't him. He ain't dead."

"Who else could it be? He was driving the same van. He was missing a hand-"

"I don't know!" Daryl shouted, "But it wasn't him! You don't know it was him!"

Lia pressed her hand to her mouth as she forced herself to go over that terrible day, to sift through the details for some clue that would convince him. Her eyes welled with tears at the memory of her club smashing into the man's skull, and the lifeless stare of his eyes when it was over. She pulled her hand away. "He-" she sniffed, "He had a bracelet on his left wrist. A big one made out of leather. It had a charm attached to the back. A cross." She illustrated this by tracing a cross on the back of her own wrist.

Daryl's face twisted with grief. He doubled over, hands on his knees, fighting back the sobs that threatened to shake his entire frame.

Lia felt a tear run down her cheek and wiped it away with her hand. "I'm sorry," she said.

Daryl looked at her and the rage she saw made her blood turn to ice. Then he abruptly straightened and pointed his loaded crossbow at her. Lia gasped, held up her hands. Daryl pulled the trigger-

-and the arrow flew past her shoulder and struck something behind her with a meaty thunk. Lia spun around in time to see a walker no more than three feet away topple over with the arrow between its eyes. Another was already shambling towards her, and more behind it, all groaning in hunger. Perhaps they'd been drawn by Daryl's earlier yelling, or maybe there were just so many infesting these woods it was only a matter of time before some of the creatures stumbled onto them.

Lia grabbed up her bow and let fly with an arrow without having to think about it. The nearest walkers fell to her and Daryl's weapons, but there were still many more coming.

Daryl grabbed her wrist. "Run, goddamn it!"

They ran, dodging clusters of the dead, but no matter where they turned there were always more of them, groaning and reaching for them. At one point Lia was yanked back when a couple of walkers grabbed hold of her quiver of arrows. Daryl ran over and smashed the butt of his crossbow into the face of the one about to bite her. Lia dropped her bow and twisted out from the quiver's shoulder strap. She snatched up her club from her belt and struck the second walker's skull. The aluminum club clanged dully and she realized the walker had a metal plate in its head.

"Oh, come on!" She hit it on the other side of its head and this time heard the familiar crunch of breaking bone. She ran on while its body fell.

Lia didn't know where they were going. She followed Daryl's lead, hoping he was taking them to a place of safety. They fought the entire way. When Daryl ran out of arrows he pulled out a handgun that he had tucked in the back of his belt. No point in worrying over noise at this point. He fired round after round, clearing a path for them through the groaning mob. The ground suddenly fell away, and Lia saw that they had circled all the way back to the overturned van. With no other options in sight, she and Daryl leaped into the trench, tucking and rolling when their feet hit the bottom. Above them, the leading walkers tried to follow only to lose their uncertain balance and go tumbling over the edge. Not that the fall would stop them, only slow them down.

Daryl and Lia regained their feet and scrambled over to the van. They clambered up the overturned cab and Daryl yanked open the driver's door. Lia dropped into the cab, followed by Daryl, who let the door slam shut above them. They squatted in the cramped confines of the van's cab. Daryl eyed the cracked windows and crawled over to the opening leading into the van's hold. Lia followed. They had enough room to stand up, at least, but the opening meant the walkers could still get to them once they busted through the windows. The first of them were already at the windshield, battering it with their fists. It was only a matter of time before one of them picked up a rock and started smashing. Lia made her way to the roll-up (now roll-sideways) door in the back in the hopes of making an escape only to hear dull thuds and muted groans on the other side of the thin metal barrier. Lia slumped down into a sitting position, knees drawn up, forearms resting atop them. Her hand still clutched her aluminum club, stained with reeking gore which dripped onto the wall-now-floor between her shoes. The same club, Daryl realized, that had ended his brother's life.

He knelt and set his empty crossbow down, then pulled out the handgun's clip to see how much ammunition was left. Nothing in the clip, only the bullet in the chamber remained.

"How many?" Lia asked.

Daryl slid the useless clip back into the gun and sat back on his heels. "Two."

Lia smiled wanly. "Lucky us."

Their eyes met and the same wordless thought passed between them. No one wanted to end up among the walking dead.

There was the sound of shattering glass. Two walkers had climbed up to the driver's side and busted out the window. They were now wedged in the window frame, both too stupid to pull back and let one in ahead of the other. The windshield was a mass of spiderwebs, bowing in under the mob's relentless onslaught.

Daryl scooted across the floor until he knelt in front of Lia. Her eyes looked down at her dusty shoes. A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. "I'm sorry I killed your brother."

Daryl reached out and gently wiped the tear away with his thumb, then brought his hand to the back of her head. Lia's back straightened and she lifted her head. Daryl brought the barrel of the gun up beneath her chin. The metal was warm from its earlier shooting. Lia raised her eyes to meet Daryl's. There was no blame in them.

"I'm sorry y' had to," he said.

Lia closed her eyes. There was an explosive gunshot. Her eyes flew open and met Daryl's equally astonished look. There was another gunshot, and a third. Outside the van.

They jumped to their feet and started banging their fists against the metal door.

"We're in here!" "Get us out! Help us!"

Behind them, the windshield finally toppled out of its frame and walkers began pouring in. Daryl whirled and fired off the last round in the gun. The lead walker's head jerked back as its black brains sprayed over the ones behind it. It's body then dropped and was trampled by the eager mob. Lia swung her club at the nearest attackers while Daryl grabbed up his crossbow and used the butt as a bludgeon. They heard a rattle and glanced over their shoulders to see the van's cargo door slide open to reveal Shane and T-Dog, both armed with rifles.

"Get out here!" Shane yelled.

Lia and Daryl dashed out between the two men who backed up firing their weapons as they went. Lia found a rope dangling over the side of the trench and used it to help her scale up the loosely packed dirt of the sloping wall, followed quickly by Daryl, Shane, and T-Dog. Above them, over half a dozen others covered them with bows and guns. Glenn and Jessie, Marco and Rick. Even Nana was there, wielding a shotgun with her usual aplomb. Once everybody was on level ground they ran to the two waiting vehicles, Shane's jeep and the faded yellow truck. They all piled into the vehicles and sped off, leaving the shambling dead behind them.

Lia, riding in the back of the jeep, looked back at the mob and was surprised to see only a few hundred walkers. After what they'd been through, she expected a thousand at least.

"They're gonna head straight for th' building," Daryl remarked.

"Let them," Nana responded coolly, "We've dealt with bigger swarms. When they surround the place we'll pick them off with our bows. They'll all be gone within a day."

Jessie, seated beside Lia, leaned over and gave the woman a relieved hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright," Lia assured her, "I...I wouldn't have made it without Daryl's help."

The girl pulled back and stared at her. "Does he know?"

Lia nodded, eyes stinging from more than the dry wind. "Yeah. He knows. He saved me anyway." She turned to Nana in the front seat. "How did you find us, anyway?"

"We heard gunfire," the old woman explained, "and the lookouts saw you and Daryl being chased."

Lia smiled and looked towards the yellow truck running beside them. She thought she could see Daryl's tousled head through one of the back windows.

The two vehicles skidded to a halt by the building. Lia caught a glimpse of Daryl as they all hurried to the crowd waiting anxiously for them. Quickly, the situation was explained and everyone went inside to make ready for the approaching walkers. Just like when Rick's group first arrived, they barred the steel-reinforced doors, shut and drew the curtains over the first floor windows, and situated themselves throughout the upper floors with their bows and arrows.

Lia was once again crouched at the window in her room, this time with the smaller bow she normally took along on supply runs. When all this was over, she hoped to find the bow she'd dropped out in the woods. She hated to lose it.

A noise behind her made her turn. Dale stood in the doorway with an armload of arrows. Distributing ammo was a task usually performed by the smaller kids, freeing up those who were old enough to use weapons. However, the people of Rick's group, though mainly adults, had little or not experience with archery, so they contributed in other ways.

"Thanks," Lia said, accepting a brace of arrows from him and setting them within easy reach.

Dale peered out between the iron bars of the window. "See any of 'em yet?"

"Not yet," Lia answered, "They're not exactly known for their speed."

The older man nodded. "So, you and Daryl have your private chat before it hit the fan?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We, uh, we talked over some things."

"I don't mean to pry..."

The corner of Lia's mouth quirked in wry amusement. "But?"

"But I heard the others found you two in a white cube van that looked awfully familiar. We had a van just like it not too long ago, before someone took it."

Lia sighed, still gazing out the window for signs of movement. "I really think you should discuss this with Daryl. It's not my place to say anything."

She felt a warm hand pat her shoulder and looked up into Dale's kind bearded face.

"It's alright," he smiled, "This does clear up a few things, though." A final pat, then he left the room to continue handing out arrows. Lia swallowed a lump in her throat and turned back to the window.

The walkers came at twilight. The archers were only able to kill a few dozen before it was too dark to aim, so they waited for dawn and spent the night trying to ignore the moans outside. Once morning came, the slaughter commenced in earnest. And slaughter it was, for the archers had the advantage of shelter, distance, and height. The walkers didn't stand a chance. But it was a time-consuming process. Killing a few hundred walking dead could take all day. People worked in shifts to alleviate fatigue.

Daryl was positioned at one of the third floor hall windows, dropping one geek after another with well-aimed shots from his crossbow. He was in the process of drawing back the bowstring to reload when that voiceless instinct told him there was someone behind him. He turned to see that blonde girl, Jessie, standing a few feet away with a bow in her hand and some arrows in the other.

The girl licked her lips nervously. "I'm here to relieve you."

Daryl stared at her, then turned back to his crossbow. "I c'n go a while longer."

"That's what you said when Lisa came to take over. You've been at it for eight hours."

He didn't answer. He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. From the corner of his eye he saw the girl shift from foot to foot. He knew if he ignored her long enough she'd go away, just like the last kid.

Instead, Jessie gathered up her courage to speak. "I wanted to thank you for savin' Lia."

Daryl shrugged.

"'Specially after what she told you 'bout your brother."

He looked at her in surprise. "You know 'bout that?"

"Yeah. Me 'n' Nana. She told us after..." She touched her face in the same spot where Lia had been hit.

Daryl looked away in guilt. He picked up an arrow and loaded it into the crossbow. "'M sorry for what Merle did t' ya," he mumbled.

Jessie blinked, surprised by his words. "It's okay. I'm...I'm okay." She took a couple of steps closer to him. "I'm sorry you lost your family. I was alone, too, 'til I came here." She looked down at her scuffed sneakers. "You could...You could stay here, if you wanted. I think Lia would like that."

Daryl snorted.

Jessie finally had the confidence to stand beside him at the window. The taller man gazed down at her. His blue eyes were scary-intense. Jessie swallowed. "You really oughta take a break."

"I c'n go a while longer."

Now it was her turn to snort. "You sound like Lia. She's always pushing herself too much. Nana's the only one who can drag her away from whatever she's doin'. Maybe I should get her."

Daryl smirked at that. "Awful stubborn, ain't ya. Guess you ain't gonna just walk away."

Jessie shook her head.

Daryl sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Now that he wasn't focused on shooting geeks, he could feel how tired he was. "Fine. I'll go."

Jessie smiled. She watched him unload his crossbow and head down the hall before taking over at the window. There were fewer walkers milling around down there. Most of them were sprawled on the pavement with arrows in their heads. Jessie drew back her bowstring and sent an arrow into the skull of a creature that was once a middle-aged woman, adding to the fallen bodies.

When the last walker fell, the real unpleasantness began. They needed to dispose of the bodies. In most cases, burning was the preferred method. But there were far too many corpses to do this safely, plus the smoke was bound to draw the wrong kind of attention. So the living set to the task of loading bodies into vehicles and driving them out to a mass grave the military had already dug months ago but never got the chance to bury. By the time they were finally done it was nightfall again. Everyone was exhausted, sore, and filthy. They crowded the bathrooms to wash away the stink, all modesty forgotten for the time being. For once, no one complained over the lack of hot running water. The cold water relieved everyone's heated skins, and liberal amounts of muscle-rub eased sore backs and shoulders.

Lia couldn't remember ever being this tired. She barely had the energy to take a few bites of the sandwich someone handed her and drag herself to her room. She flopped down onto the mattress. For once sleep did not elude her; she was out the second her head touched the pillow. There were no dreams, thank goodness. When she woke the next morning, she knew from the angle of the light that it was late. She could hear the sounds of children playing outside, and when she went to the window she saw all the kids running around as if none of the previous day's horrors ever happened. She envied their resilience.

Nana intercepted her the moment she arrived downstairs. "Take a seat and have some breakfast before you fall over again."

Lia's stomach growled before she could think up a protest. Resigned to her fate, she allowed the old woman to lead her to a chair and fetch her a plate of biscuits and gravy.

"Canned gravy is just not the same," Nana sighed apologetically.

"It's fine, Nana," Lia said. In truth, she was eating too fast to even taste it. The exhaustion of the previous day had given way to intense hunger. She wolfed down her breakfast in minutes and guzzled down a large glass of Tang. Nana insisted on taking her dirty dishes.

"Sit down, for heaven's sake! You're always running yourself ragged."

Lia couldn't help but grin at the old woman's chastisement. "Look who's talking."

Nana arched a thin eyebrow. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." She walked primly away.

Lia sat back and watched the others who'd chosen to relax in the lobby rather than outdoors. Andrea and Lori were playing with baby Aidan on a blanket on the floor. Casey and Cadence were playing Battleship at a small table. A handful of kids were going at one of those role-playing card games. Dale was lounging in a sofa reading an old fishing magazine he'd found somewhere.

"Looking for someone in particular?"

Lia jumped. She hadn't noticed Nana's return. "Um, like who?"

The old woman smirked and nodded towards the open door. "He's out there fiddling with that motorcycle of his."

Lia tried to look casual as she nodded, stood, and strode out the door. She blinked in the sun's bright glare, wishing she'd brought her sunglasses. She wandered over to the cluster of parked vehicles and found Daryl's pickup. He'd unloaded the motorcycle from the truck's bed and was kneeling beside it with a set of tools doing something to the engine. His hands were black with grease and sweat darkened the back, front, and underarms of his sleeveless T-shirt. He glanced at her as she approached, but kept his focus on his work.

Lia shoved her hands into her pockets. "Nice bike," she said, a vague compliment from someone who knew absolutely nothing about motorcycles.

Daryl set a tool aside, picked up another. "Used t' be Merle's."

Lia bit her lip and withdrew her hands from her pockets, wiping the sweaty palms against the thighs of her jeans. "Could you come with me for a sec? I wanna show you something."

Daryl sat back on his heels and looked at her with an unreadable expression. "Show me what?"

Instead of answering, Lia turned and started to walk away. She heard a growl of irritation, then the sound of footsteps. Daryl caught up and walked beside her, clearly annoyed with the mystery. And who could blame him, since all the things she'd revealed to him so far had proven unpleasant.

They circled the building and walked out into the neighboring unpaved lot. It wasn't long before they reached their destination. Daryl recognized the place from his wanderings; it was the little cemetery established by this community of survivors. A row of graves covered with stone cairns to keep out scavengers. At the head of each grave stood a metal post with a wooden plank attached crosswise, looking more like a road sign than a cross. Most of the planks had names etched onto them: Owen, Mia, Joshua. Most of the graves were tragically small.

Lia pointed at one of the markers. "Bryan used to be the oldest kid here. Sixteen. He was bitten during one of our supply runs and threw himself off a building so he wouldn't turn. Made sure to land on his head." She indicated another, its marker blank. "Baby Aidan's mom. We never learned her name."

Daryl followed her silently, wondering what the point of this was. Lia led him to a grave that lay a distance from the others. It, too, bore a marker without a name. Daryl took in Lia's solemn expression as she regarded the grave. "Who's in this one?"

Lia took a breath. "Your brother."

Daryl stared at her, at the grave, and back. "You buried 'im?"

She nodded. "I buried him."

He looked down at the grave. Slowly, his face changed as the grief rose up in him. His self-control disappeared. A sob escaped him, then another, and soon he dropped to his knees, head bowed. The sight brought tears to Lia's eyes. Most people would have left him to mourn in private, but she knew somehow that Daryl didn't want to be alone. She knelt beside him and, after a second's hesitation, laid a hand on his shoulder. If anything, the contact made Daryl's weeping more intense, as if she'd released a floodgate. After a while Lia leaned in and rested her forehead against his shoulder, letting her tears of empathy and guilt spill down her cheeks.