Author's Note: Hello again lovely humans, I'm back. Get ready 'cause this ride is about to get a lot more intense than ever before. Beth is starting to welcome some significant changes in her life, and she'll need to put her big girl shoes on. I couldn't be more excited, though.

We just hit 100 followers! This is amazing!

As always, thank you all for the incredible reviews. It honestly pushes me to write more and hopefully better every day.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I'm a mere player.

It was barely a house.

The roof was full of holes and dirty. There was a missing piece of the wall being replaced by a big metal square. In the old world, nobody would want to live in such a place. However, they no longer had the privilege of choice, so that house— if one could call it such — was big possession.

Daryl said he spotted movement from the inside. And so, unless Daryl Dixon was wrong, human beings were living in that dumpster.

"What are we going to do?" She whispered from behind the bush, where she was hiding.

It was stupid to whisper, she knew. There were from a distance where she would have to scream to draw attention, but Beth chose to be extra careful.

"I somehow doubt that there will be something in that place worth taking," Merle pointed out, not impressed.

"Five people are living there, at least," Daryl informed, sizing the house up. "They have to eat and protect themselves."

"Five?" Merle questioned, incredulous. "You've got to be shitting me."

In response, Daryl only shrugged.

"That cannot be healthy," Beth commented, all too aware that they weren't in any position to judge other groups. Especially one with a house. At least they had something to protect them from the elements.

"It's better than what we have," Daryl stated darkly, voicing her own thoughts.

"So, we raid it?" Beth asked, panicking internally at the thought of facing other humans.

Beth hadn't seen another human face since Jonathan, other than the brothers. In fact, if she ever saw one again would be too soon, in her opinion. However, Beth was aware of how unrealistic she was being; sooner or later she would have to face her fears.

"From what I could tell, they never leave the house all at once," Daryl informed, serious as ever. "We'll have no choice but to kill someone."

And yet he spoke with such ease that it made it look like they were about to take a walk in a park, as opposed to killing innocent people.

"Perhaps is better to surprise them at night, while they are sleeping?" Merle suggested, also very casually. "We'd have more people to get rid off, but it would be faster."

"Do you think they take watches?" Daryl asked, analyzing the house critically again.

"We should assume so, just to be safe," Merle said. "Although they don't look like the sharpest tools in the box."

And so, they carried on, seamlessly, forming a plan to attack those people, while Beth watched in silence.

It was a clear night, she noticed. Not the scenery one would picture for a slaughter. However, in the new world every night was a dangerous one, so maybe it wasn't so strange after all. If one closed one's eyes and listened carefully — something Beth avoided at all cost — the noises could be heard. The screams, fading in the distance.

Any minute now Beth would join the brothers for their raid. She would not only face humans and steal their food, but she would also kill them for it. That was not how she envisioned her life.

Nevertheless, Beth was grateful. She had Daryl and Merle, and that was a lot more than what most people got. Sure, they were quiet and rude — sometimes even downright brutal — but they tried with Beth, and she could tell.

Ever since they got together again after him, they were extra careful with her. Beth was fine ignoring what had happened, not allowing herself to cry or get angry, but she couldn't deny that she was physically hurt, and the brothers were tending her wounds in their own way. Even if nobody acknowledged it.

The walked ahead, clearing the path for her; they stopped walking the minute her breathing got labored; they made sure she always had enough water...

It was all very flippantly done. If Beth hadn't been paying attention, she might have missed, but she was so attuned to them that she couldn't help but notice.

They always had an excuse, of course. Dixons don't have feelings; they couldn't. So Beth smartly kept her mouth shut, knowing that her acknowledgment wouldn't be appreciated. Which all came down to that moment, in the calm night, where Beth was readying herself to kill.

She wasn't doing it because of the food or the supplies — although they needed it. Beth was going to do it for them. She was going to be useful, perhaps for the very first time.

Maybe then, someday, the brothers would appreciate her too.

XxXxXXxXXxXxXXxXXxXxX

Beth rested against the door, trying to control her out-of-control breathing. She promised herself there would be no freaking out and Beth intended to keep that promise. Check the room, that was the order. She could do that.

Gathering her courage, Beth held onto her knife strongly and stepped forward, pushing the door open and readying herself for the attack. An attack that never came, though. Bizarrely enough, ignoring the fight happening around her, was a woman screaming and hitting on a small child. A very young girl — she couldn't be older than six. Beth took the scene in; the woman was clearly drunk and out of control, swinging an empty bottle around in her dirty hand, and the terrified child — cowering on the floor.

Rage burned through Beth's insides like never before. She unconsciously stepped closer, making a dull sound against the floor and drawing attention from the despicable woman in the room. Her face twisted into a frown and her hands didn't stop twitching.

"What you want, bitch?" She slurred, struggling with the words.

Beth wanted to answer, but the words couldn't get past her dry throat. The anger was making her impulsive, and it left no time for words.

Beth ran and raised her arms, ready to plunge the knife. But the woman stepped aside, smashing the glass bottle on her ribs, making Beth double in pain. She took the opportunity to kick Beth's calf with surprising strength.

"Fuck off," She cursed angrily.

As Beth tripped, she used the woman's arm to steady herself, causing her to lose balance, fall to the ground, and drag the youngest Greene with her. As they rolled on the ground, the woman grabbed her hair and pulled, hard. Beth yelled, dropping the knife and kicking around. Beth heard a protesting moan and wasted no time. The second her elbow connected with the woman's nose, blood immediately started to pour out. She used that moment of distraction to grab her knife and drive it through the drunk's stomach.

Her responding scream was like music to Beth's ears.

Not willing to give up, the woman tried to reach for Beth's ankles, but she moved out of the way, pulling the knife with her. The next second had Beth jumping down and plunging her dirty knife into her head — right between the eyes.

The woman's eyes widened before her body fell to the ground with a soft thud. Beth got up, cringing at her blood-covered arms, stopping only when a quiet crying sound registered in her mind. She turned to see the child hidden behind a chair, obviously afraid.

"I'm sorry you had to see this. You can come out now," Beth soothed, not moving. "I won't hurt you."

The following silence stretched for a few tense moments before the girl poked her head out, asking softly:

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise. You can come out," Beth reassured, her heart aching for the young child.

The next second the girl ran and hugged her legs, her whole body shaking with fear. Beth crunched to check for deep wounds but, the moment she did, the girl jumped into her lap and began to cry, so she hugged her and got up, steadying the child in her uninjured side.

"Shh, you're okay now," Beth tried to calm her. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."

That was a promise to herself. Beth would allow no one to hurt that girl.

Suddenly the brothers rushed into the room, weapons drawn. The child in her arms screamed, clutching her side.

"They won't hurt you."

Merle was looking at the child; jaw clenched and clearly angry. It probably wasn't difficult to imagine what had happened in that room. He moved forward, taking her knife out of the woman's skull and cleaning it on his pants before arranging it back on her's.

"We're keeping her," Beth stated, trying to sound as confident as she could.

"Yeah, I figured," He agreed, a strange look crossing his face. "What's your name, kid?"

"I'm..." She hiccupped. "...Luna."

"That's a lovely name," The praise slipped out of Beth's mouth. "I'm Beth, and this is Merle and Daryl."

They both nodded in greetings, synchronized. It was really amusing the awkward way in which they did it, and Beth had to suppress a smile.

"Did you get everyone?" She asked, remembering where they were.

"Yeah," Daryl confirmed, lowering his crossbow. "They made too much noise, though, we need to grab our stuff and leave."

"They have a lot of food in here. Too much, actually." Merle said darkly. "We'll need to prioritize."

"Guns?" Beth tentatively asked, knowing better than to hope for the best but not fully able to contain her expectations.

Even if her aim left much to be desired, it was still better than her fumble with a knife. Besides, Beth liked to put as much distance as possible between her and any person trying to harm her, and the knife made it virtually impossible.

"Sorry, kiddo. No such luck," Merle crushed her hopes a lot more politely than one might have expected, but it was a negative nevertheless.

"Shit," She cursed her bad luck.

"Cursing in front of the kid now, are we?" He asked, enjoying her frustration.

Six months ago she wouldn't have. Scratch that, three months ago she wouldn't have, but now Beth simply shrugged. She was aware that the child in her arms probably heard more curse words in her short life than Beth ever would — despite the brother's terrible influence.

"Let's go," Daryl rushed, already turning around and heading towards the direction the food probably was stored.

Beth gave herself a moment to absorb the scene: The dead body on the floor of the woman she killed; the child in her arms, hiding her head on her neck; the brother's calm demeanor; and her own bloody body.

Life was shaping up to be quite crazy, and Beth didn't completely understand why a foreign excitement rushed through her skin, raising the fine hairs on her arms and neck.

AN2: So... Surprise?