A/N: I don't know if I'll keep posting updates on this site, the fandom seems kind of dead over here. I am planning on updating every Saturday so I don't get burnt out.

And to the only person that reviewed the first chapter, accusing my of writing pedophile fanfiction, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Chapter title from "when the party's over" by Billie Eilish

Enjoy!

The next day, Beth insisted Daryl take her and Dooley to the stream they had come across so the dog could get a bath. Daryl wanted her to stay at the house and rest her ankle some more, but she stubbornly met his eyes and told him that if he didn't take her, she'd go by herself. Daryl reluctantly agreed.

They set off for the stream and Dooley trotted beside Beth, tail wagging, tongue hanging out of his mouth in a way only a dog can grin. The clearing was untouched since they'd left it. The walker Daryl had put down still laying off to the side. Before stepping into the water, Beth pulled a cup out of her backpack and then instructed Dooley to join her. The dog whined a little, skittering side to side like he was nervous before he dipped a paw into the water.

"I know it's cold, but you'll get used to it," Beth assured Dooley.

She heard Daryl grunt something about the dog not understanding her, but she ignored him.

Dooley slowly made his way into the water and came to stand at her side. She praised him quietly and used the cup to pour the water over the dog's back. She scrubbed as much as she could (and as much as he would let her) at the dirt in his fur and the matted spots. Some of the matted areas, if she got too close, Dooley would shy away or growl softly. Beth did her best to clean him where she could, even if it was just water. She hoped that they could find some shampoo or some other soap to clean him better. But for now, this would have to do.

When she decided Dooley was as clean as he would get, she got out of the water and he followed quickly, shaking the water from his fur.

"Still an ugly mutt," Daryl said.

Beth gasped loudly, covering Dooley's floppy ears even though she was smiling. "Don't you listen to him, Dooley. He's just jealous. You're the handsomest guy this side of the Mississippi."

Daryl scoffed.

The trip back to the funeral home was quick. Daryl wanted to make sure he could get something for them to eat before he lost any daylight. He made sure Beth was safely inside the house with Dooley before closing the front door behind him.

"Don't let anyone in," he'd said. "I'll knock two times and then two more times."

Beth locked the door behind him and then went about to find a towel or blanket to dry Dooley off with.

"I wish I had a comb to work out those matted spots," she said to Dooley. "I wouldn't do that without some soap, though."

Dooley's mouth worked, almost like he was trying to bark. But all that came out was a short whine and his tongue flopped out over his teeth.

"Come on, let's see what we can have with whatever animal Daryl gets for dinner."

Beth led Dooley into the kitchen and pulled out a jar of pigs feet. She removed the lid and held one out for the dog. "Sit."

Dooley spun around and looked up at the treat.

Beth laughed. "Good enough, I guess. But we'll work on that."

Dooley scarfed down the pig foot and whined for a second. Beth gave in, feeding him one more, before closing up the jar and putting it back in the cabinet. She pulled out a jar of peaches and a bottle of cola and then placed her hands on her hips.

"Well, now that that's done…" she sighed, looking around the kitchen.

Beth was starting to think that whoever lived here wasn't coming back. Even though it was only their third day here, it just didn't seem normal anymore for people to be away for more than a day. The funeral home was open and out there for anyone to come in. The door hadn't been locked and the food had been in plain sight. Even though Beth had never known the residents of the funeral home, she felt sympathy. She hoped they were okay.

She took a deep breath, shaking her head to stop that train of thoughts. If she let it go too long, she'd start to think about their family, and then she wouldn't be able to stop. She told Dooley to follow her as she walked down to the visitation room. Daryl had continued to sleep in the casket (Beth didn't know how he could do that, it gave her the heebie jeebies) and she had claimed the corner by the piano. She sat in that corner now, opening her journal on the floor, and starting an entry.

A page and a half later, she heard two knocks at the front door and then another two knocks a beat later. She got up and got to the door as quickly as she could on her injured foot.

When she opened the door, Daryl held up two squirrels. "Couldn't find your rabbit."

Beth rolled her eyes and shoved his shoulder. She caught the amused quirk of his lips as he ducked his head and started to dress the squirrels on the porch.

"Found a pitched tent not too far from here," Daryl said, eyes trained on his task. "But it looked abandoned. Didn't have nothin' to take."

Beth sat down on the porch steps and gave Dooley a scratch on the top of his head. "I used to love campin'."

Daryl didn't respond, but he shifted his body so he was facing her more.

"I'm sure you've been campin' before," she said softly. "You know so much about all this."

"Had to learn."

She didn't have to ask what he meant by that.

Beth chewed on her bottom lip, thinking of her favorite camping memories, even though it made her heart ache with the loss of her family. "We went campin' a lot in the summer, but in the winter, me, Maggie and Shawn would build a fort in the livin' room. Linin' all the dinin' room chairs up and puttin' sheets and blankets on top of 'em. Pile all the pillows in the house underneath it and we'd watch movies and eat our favorite snacks."

They were both quiet for a moment before Daryl spoke, "What's your favorite movie?"

Beth breathed out a laugh. "The Sound of Music. I would give almost anythin' to see that movie again, even though I could probably just quote the whole thing from start to finish."

"Never seen that one," Daryl mumbled.

"It was a musical, I can't imagine you would've enjoyed it all that much."

Daryl chuckled. "Nah, never was into that stuff."

"What was your favorite movie?"

Daryl stopped what he was doing for a moment, looking out at the cemetery. "Dunno, never really thought 'bout it, I guess. Didn't watch a lotta movies growin' up and didn't have time to watch any when I was grown."

Beth hummed thoughtfully. "I'll bet you were a John Wayne kinda guy. Daddy and Shawn were always watchin' his movies."

Daryl shrugged a shoulder. "Mighta seen a couple of his movies, but I don't really remember any of 'em."

He stood up, wiping the blade of his knife on his pant leg. "Let's get these cooked."

Beth went inside to get the food she had pulled out of the cabinet to be eaten with Daryl's kills. She couldn't help but remember the John Wayne movies she'd watched with her father and brother; and then, she couldn't help but compare Daryl Dixon and John Wayne. Both strong and capable men, quiet most of the time, but loud when they need to be. And handsome in their own rugged ways. Beth stopped in the kitchen doorway, her cheeks growing warm.

"No," she scolded herself. "Not even goin' there."

After dinner, as the sun was starting to set behind the trees, Beth was throwing a stick for Dooley to fetch. The dog seemed to be enjoying himself, running off to retrieve the stick and coming back to play tug-o-war with it instead of giving it back to Beth so she could throw it again. She decided on the fifth throw that she was going to head inside before it got any darker. Daryl had gone in almost immediately after eating their meal, telling her to call him if she needed him.

Beth knew walkers were still out there, but they had only seen a few since stopping at the funeral home. Even though she'd rather they never saw any again, she knew they couldn't let their guard down. She wondered if there would ever be a time when they didn't have to worry about the undead sneaking up on them.

She walked into the house, with Dooley on her heels, and locked the door behind her. She poked her head into the kitchen but didn't see Daryl. Assuming he was already laying down in his casket, she slowly made her way into their sleeping quarters.

The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks. The chairs for the visitation were lined up across from each other and blankets and curtains from around the funeral home were draped across them, with cushioning from caskets piled beneath the canopy.

For a moment, Beth was speechless. When she saw Daryl nervously shift, she forced herself to say something. "What's all this?"

"Got saltines and peanut butter, and I can't do nothin' 'bout a movie, but maybe you can tell me 'bout your favorite movie." He mumbled, hiding behind his hair.

Beth felt a sudden rush of fondness for the man, so strong she felt like she was choking on it. "I'm not gonna sing all the songs."

"None of 'em?" He asked, sounding almost disappointed as his shoulders relaxed and they both got comfortable on the casket linings.

"Maybe I'll sing Edelweiss," she conceded, patting the spot next to her, and Dooley spun around in several circles before settling down, head resting on her knee.

Daryl spread some peanut butter on a saltine, keen blue eyes focused on her.

"I'll do my best to make this all make sense," she said, tucking some hair behind her ear self-consciously.

"If you mess somethin' up, I won't know any different," he shrugged.

"Fair enough," Beth laughed softly. "Alright, the movie's about Maria, a young woman studying to become a nun in Austria. She's hired to be a governess – a nanny – to the seven children of a widower, Captain Georg von Trapp…"