a/n – Hello my fellow Bethyl fans out there! You know, when I first wrote Angels Lost in Darkness it was just after the Season 3 finale and I think I was one of only a handful of people on the dinghy that was "Bethyl". Hell, it didn't even have a proper name at that point. (I'm still kind of partial to Deth but whatevs). Then Season 4 happened and suddenly our little dinghy was sinking fast from all the fans who suddenly fell in love with Daryl and Beth and jumped onboard the "SS Bethyl" and I have been rejoicing and soaking up all of the great fan-fics out there.

The word vomit that I have posted below takes place in Season 4 just after the prison falls and I know there are like a 150 other stories out there with the same scenario but I just couldn't help throwing in my two-cents. I was going to post this as a separate story from Angels Lost in Darkness and really I probably should, but so many people had followed the original story that I thought it wouldn't hurt to just throw this one in with it. But just to stave off any confusion, A-side and B-side are in no way connected plot-wise.

This story is in no way complete – I will update it when I can but there will definitely be long gaps between chapters.

Angels Lost in Darkness (B-side)

They've been running for forever it seems. The groans from the walkers, the gunfire, the screams, the tears, all a distant memory as the sun beats heavily down on her. Every bone, every muscle, every nerve in her body is screaming at her to just stop. But he's still running and she can't lose him.

She can't lose him too.

Everything is a blur around her; the golden grass, the blue sky, the trees, just a blur of color as he gains ground and she starts to fall behind. She struggles to stay focused on the man in front of her. Her eyes fall to the wings painted on the back of his leather vest, keeping them in her line of sight as her mind wanders to Heaven and angels and her Daddy and all of the dead around them.

She's not paying attention to anything but those wings painted on leather. Her thoughts running wild as she tries to come to grip with what's happened and tries to push it down all in the same damnbreath. She doesn't see the dip in front of her until her ankle is twisting and she's already hit the ground, her hands barely catching her in time before her nose can crack against a dull gray rock. She just lays there and listens. Listens to Daryl's steps getting fainter as he continues to run and doesn't bother looking back. She doesn't make a sound as her fingers curl into the dirt and her eyes close, her body finally finding respite amidst that tall yellow grass.

xXx

He doesn't know what makes him look back when he reaches the edge of the field where the yellow grass ends and the tree line begins, but he does, and she's gone. He stops and listens but all he can hear is his own blood thrumming in his ears. His eyes scan the field for any sign of her but he finds none. His breathing slows as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, silently debating if he just keeps moving forward, or if he tries to find the girl. He thinks he'd be better off without her, pretty sure damn knows it. But his feet betray his thoughts and he begins weaving his way back through the tall grass, being mindful to stay on the same path from which he just came.

He's ready to give up when he finds himself mid-way back through the field. Has done a pretty good job convincing himself that she's decided to run off on her own and leave him behind when he almost kicks her in the damn head. He digs the toe of his boot into her ribs and she lets out a little groan.

"Givin' up," he says and he's not sure if it's a question or just simply stating the obvious. Either way she doesn't respond, just keeps her fingers curled into the dirt and her eyes closed. He lets out a huff and runs his dirty hand through his greasy hair as his eyes scan the field around him. He convinces himself to just leave her; to walk away and just let her be. He doesn't need her. She'll only slow him down. She's just another dead girl. She doesn't know how to survive, doesn't know how to fight, doesn't know how to kill. The only thing she can do is take care of a damn baby, and she couldn't even do that right.

'Cause Judith's gone.

He looks down at her lifeless body and frowns; nudging her again with the toe of his boot eliciting another, slightly louder groan this time.

"I'm leavin'," he says but his feet don't move and he's about ready to scream at them to just take a fucking step when her head turns and her eyes flutter open and she looks up at him from the corner of her eye.

"So leave," she says her voice hoarse from all the screaming and crying she did not all that long ago. He lets out another huff, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side as she so easily calls his bluff.

"Get up," he orders.

"Leave," she orders right back.

He wants to. He really does. But instead he kneels alongside her, pulling her into his arms, and throwing her over the shoulder that doesn't have his crossbow hanging off of it and begins his trek back to the tree line.

She doesn't fight him when he picks her up and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Just lets her body go limp against him 'cause she doesn't have any fight left in her. She figures they're at least a few miles into the heavy denseness of the woods when she starts to hear Daryl's breathing become more strained and feels his usually long stride get a little shorter.

"I can walk," she mumbles just loud enough for him to hear but he doesn't stop, doesn't say a word. "I ain't helpless," she adds for good measure.

"Sure 'bout that?" he asks and she definitely picks up a tick of sarcasm in his tone causing her to finally squirm a little against his hold.

"Sure enough," she says as firmly as she can muster while being held like a damn rag doll.

His steps finally stop and he lowers her to the ground probably a little rougher than necessary. She immediately feels a sharp pain shoot from her ankle up her leg but she's not about to start complaining; not when he doesn't even give her a chance to change her mind because he's already started walking again.

She does a pretty good job keeping up; hobbling along behind him with a bum ankle, not that it matters none. He hasn't spared her a second glance since he'd put her down.

"Where we goin'?" she finally asks. They've been walking for hours, circling through the woods with no end in sight. She knows he's a tracker but she hasn't seen anything worth tracking and she's starting to think that all his circling is just an attempt to tire her out and lose her. He doesn't answer her, doesn't even acknowledge the fact that he may or may not have heard her.

"Daryl!" she yells just loud enough to piss him off. He stops and turns suddenly, pinning her down with an icy glare. She hesitates for a moment, trying not to put too much weight on her swollen ankle. "We gonna find them?" she finally asks and it could just be her exhausted mind playing tricks on her but she swears his glare softens just a little. His only response however, is a non-committal grunt that leaves her shaking her head in frustration as he turns his back to her once again and renews his trek through the forest. Her eyes drift up to the blue sky peeking through the tree tops and she can see the sun is creeping its way toward the western horizon.

"It's gonna be dark soon Daryl. We're gonna have to stop eventually," she says, quickly growing annoyed with his constant silence.

"We'll find a spot to set up for the night," he grumbles and veers off to the left, moving away from the beaten path.

xXx

When he said 'find a spot' she thought for sure it'd be an abandoned house, or a cabin, or even a shed. Something with four walls and roof at least. Nope. The only thing Daryl Dixon found was a clear patch of ground large enough for them to set up a small fire and lay down for a few hours without having to brush elbows.

"Can you start a fire?" he asks. She nods, already clearing a spot in the center of their patch of ground that's going to be their home for the night.

"You got a match?" she asks, 'cause yeah she can set up a camp fire, but she's not trying to rub two damn sticks together to get a spark. He grunts in response, digging through his pockets till he finds his book of matches and tosses it at her. She catches it one-handed and for like a second she's really proud of herself because she never really had any hand-eye coordination, but she decides to bite back her grin when she sees him looking at her with a glare that doesn't exactly scream 'nice catch Beth.'

"Gonna try to wrangle up some food," he grumbles as he hands her his buck knife. "You see anything more'n a couple walkers come through you run n' don't look back. Y'hear?" She nods again as she takes the knife from his hand and sets it next her before resuming her task of creating fire.

Afternoon slowly turns to dusk as she waits by the fire that took a little longer than she had expected to set up. She wasn't looking forward to returning the book of matches back to Daryl with only two matches left in it after too many failed attempts of trying to light a small pile of dry leaves and sticks.

Her stomach rumbles as her eyes scan the surrounding trees for the hundredth time, looking for any sign of Daryl's return. She's starting to think he decided to leave her, go off on his own, when he finally appears through the shadows.

"Gotta couple squirrels," he says as he tosses his bounty next to the fire. Her eyes follow his steps as he moves to where she's sitting and grabs the knife that he left her. She just about jumps right out of her skin when his fingers haphazardly brush against her thigh. "Sorry," he mumbles as his own hand retracts with the knife in lightning speed.

"'S Okay," she mumbles as he sits down on the opposite side of the flames and makes quick work of skinning their dinner.

It's not till after their meal, when they're both just sitting and staring at the fire because it's just the two of them in these woods and not nearly safe enough for them to actually get any sleep, that the silence is broken once again.

"You think they're alive?" Beth asks as she picks at her fraying shoe laces. She refuses to make eye contact with the man sitting across from her because her eyes are rimmed with tears and she doesn't want him to see her weak.

"Don't matter," is his only response as he uses the blade of his knife to clean under his nails.

"Of course it matters," she responds with more conviction than she thought she could muster. He merely shrugs.

"They ain't here so what's it matter if they're alive or not?" Her mouth just about hits the ground.

"So what? You're just giving up? Just gonna leave them out there? Not even gonna try to find them?" He raises his eyes and stares at her for a brief moment over the slowly dying flames.

"They ain't here Beth," he says again, firmly, as if that alone should explain his motives.

"We can't be the only ones left," she says under her breath, her eyes finding his over the fire but he doesn't answer, just meets her heavy gaze with his own.

"Go to sleep Beth," he finally says when her pleading stare becomes too much. With a huff, she lies on her side, her back against the flames and Daryl lets out a long lingering sigh as he tries to push any thoughts of their now fragmented group to the back of his mind.

xXx

It's been three days since the prison fell and Daryl and Beth were forced to run. Beth's ankle seems to be on the mend as she finds it easier to keep up with Daryl and his long stride as they continue their trek through the woods. They haven't spoken but maybe two words to each other since that first night by the camp fire and the silence that is stretching between them is becoming pregnant and heavy like the humid Georgia air.

Daryl finds a spot for them to set up camp for the night, another clear patch of ground nestled in between two large oak trees. Beth lets out a long sigh, wondering if this is going to be her life now; following Daryl with no sense of direction or purpose and too much silence. He gives her a look but remains mute as he sets down his crossbow and gets to work on building a fire. Beth sits cross-legged on the ground and pulls a fist-full of berries that she had collected earlier that day out of her knapsack and pops a few in her mouth as she watches Daryl get their camp settled for the night.

xXx

The hair on the back of his neck bristles whenever he feels Beth's eyes on him. They always seem to be on him, following his every move. It's always a weighted gaze, expectant, like her fate rests in his hands, like he's her keeper.

It does.

He is.

And he hates it.

It makes him uncomfortable, being alone with Beth in the woods with no hope in sight. He's not sure what to say so he stays silent, thankful that she seems to have chosen to do the same. It makes it easier to almost forget she's there.

Almost.

He finally settles on their patch of ground, his back resting against the thick trunk of one of the oak trees and watches Beth eat a fistful of berries under a hooded gaze. He takes note that she doesn't offer him some, but lets it pass as he lights a cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs until it hurts. His eyes finally close when the cigarette and the fire is long out, his back still resting against the trunk of the oak tree, Beth curled into herself, as close as she can get to the slowly dying embers.

xXx

She awakens to the touch of Daryl's rough hand on her shoulder, shaking her as he curses under his breath.

"Christ girl, wake up. Wake up!"

"What?" she mumbles sleepily. She sits up and tries to raise her hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes but Daryl's tucked his hand under her arm and is pulling her up before she has the chance.

"Walkers," he hisses, pulling her along as he grabs their meager belongings, tossing her her knapsack and throwing his crossbow over his shoulder.

"How many?" she asks.

"Too many."

The inky black sky lights up suddenly with a bolt of lightning and a clap of thunder that makes Beth jump and Daryl's hand tighten around her bicep in response to her jittery behavior. She lets out a nervous giggle when she realizes that she's more scared of the damn thunderstorm than she is of the herd of walkers getting a little too close for comfort.

"We gotta go Beth." She nods and falls into step behind him. Not trusting her eyesight in the dark, she keeps her arm in front her, her hand barely grazing but keeping constant contact with the leather of his vest.

She can hear their groans getting closer.

"There's a road just up ahead a bit," he says because she's sure he can hear it too, and they'll be able to move a lot faster when they don't have to worry about roots and dips in the ground. "Almost there Beth." His voice is reassuring against the groans of the dead and the claps of the thunder but for some strange reason she feels a lump growing in her throat and tears start to blur her eyes and it all distracts her for a second because she's suddenly falling forward.

She lets out a yelp of surprise, her outstretched hand desperately grasping for the leather of his vest but he must've gotten a few steps ahead because all she feels is air and then the hardness of the ground hitting her chest knocking the wind out of her.

"Shit, Beth." She hears him curse as he loops back around to where she fell. His hand once again wraps around her arm as he pulls her up and drags her to the edge of the forest. They've finally reached pavement, solid ground, and Beth almost weeps in relief. "C'mon," Daryl says as he pulls on her arm and falls into a quick jog. She does her best to ignore the pain in her chest and loud claps of thunder that makes the ground shake beneath their feet.

Does her best to ignore the way her skin burns where Daryl's touching it.

But she's slowing down, and he's practically dragging her down the road, and she can hear the groans again, knows the walkers are getting closer.

"Just go Daryl," she finally yells over a rumble of thunder. "I'm just slowin you down." She tries to pull her arm from his grip but he refuses to let go. He stops running and turns around to face her, sending her a glare that sends a shiver straight down her spine.

"Givin up," he breaths as he continues to glare. Beth starts to think that the glare is screaming betrayal.

"I'm already dead Daryl," she argues, trying to pull her arm free once again, but his grip only tightens. "You don't need me." He blinks after a long moment then finally shakes his head, turning on his heel and once again pulling her along with him.

"Daryl! Stop!" she yells but he simply ignores her. "I hate you Daryl Dixon!" she half cries as she continues to pull against his vice-like grip, her heels digging into the pavement as he continues to drag her down the road. His steps come to an abrupt halt and he's on her in a second, the grip on her arm impossibly tighter as he struggles to reign in his rage.

"Hate's good Greene. You hate me with all you got. But I ain't lettin' you die out here. Not on my watch." His voice is low and dangerous and Beth feels herself shiver under his icy glare.

"I ain't your responsibility," she whispers. He shakes his head once.

"They're comin," is his only reply and once again begins their desperate escape down the deserted stretch of highway. She doesn't fight him this time, just struggles to keep in step behind him until the glint of a car off ahead in the distance catches her eye. Her pace quickens and she's almost right beside him now.

"You see that?" she breathes and he grunts in response.

"I see it," he says, and his hurried jog turns into a full blown sprint as they race to the possibility of salvation.

"Locked," Daryl curses as Beth catches up to him and moves to check the doors on the other side.

"Shit!" she screams, and she feels that lump in her throat come back as the small glimmer of hope is snuffed out.

"Here," he says at the rear of the car, pulling the hatch to the trunk up. "Hop in," he continues, looking at her expectantly but she doesn't move. "Now Beth," he says again, harder this time. Finally her feet move and she's clambering into the small space, Daryl quickly behind her, pulling the hatch down just as the groans of the walkers close in around them.

Beth's breathing is short and raspy, her palms sweaty, as Daryl sits across from her seemingly cool, calm, and collected, with his crossbow at the ready while the dead bump, and groan, and stumble around them.

"Quiet girl," he hisses, his head not moving, but his gaze quickly darting to her, sending her a silent warning.

"Tryin," she hisses right back, but her rasps don't get any quieter and if anything she starts to fidget even more than she was before, the side of her boot brushing against his thigh making him press himself even harder against the sharp metal.

"The hell's your problem?" he asks, his eyes watching her like she's a feral cat or something; ready to scratch.

"Claustrophobic," she breathes as she rubs her sweaty palms against the denim of her jeans.

"What?"

"Don't like small spaces," she tries again and his shoulders pull up slightly.

"Thunderstorms and trunks, anything else you scared of?" he asks.

"You."

Beth bites her tongue but it's too late and the small space between them seems to suddenly get impossibly smaller. She sees his body go taut in the pale glow of the moonlight seeping in through the small crack of the trunk as she holds her breath and he clears his throat.

"Beth I…." he starts but she doesn't give him a chance to finish his stumbling apology or whatever else he might have to say at this moment.

"I didn't mean it," she blurts, her voice hitting an octave that it hadn't reached in days.

"I ain't never known you to say somethin' you don't mean," he says lowly. His eyes dart back over to her but she remains mute, her sapphire eyes looking lost as they sparkle in the moonlight. "I ain't gonna hurt you Beth." She takes a deep breath and her jittery hands still for a moment in her lap.

"I know that Daryl," she whispers, her eyes lowering to her hands.

Daryl chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, half tempted to just drop it there but Beth seems to feel the need to explain, taking in a deep breath in an effort to calm her frayed nerves.

"I know you're pissed that you're stuck with me. Feel like I'm a burden to you, or an obligation, or whatever," she trails off as her eyes rise from her hands up to him. "I guess I'm just scared that you're gonna smarten up and up and leave me," she finishes quite lamely, her cheeks flushed pink and she prays it's too dark for Daryl to notice. She hears Daryl take in a long slow breath as he shifts the weight of the crossbow slightly against his shoulder.

"I ain't gonna leave you Beth. Not by choice." The air thickens as silence once again falls between them, her eyes returning to her fidgety hands as his scan the dark night and roaming walkers and streaks of lightning. "You gotta promise me somethin' though Greene." Her eyes shoot back up to him expectantly. "You can't give up y'hear?"

"Ok," she breathes as she starts to finally relax against the hard metal of the trunk the rumbling thunder and the groans of the herd drifting off into the night.