Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mary Jude Winchester, better known as MJ, is trekking through the dense woods of Georgia when she hears it; at first she thinks it’s a Zombie, but then she realizes it’s the sniffling sound of someone crying and not the ragged snuffling sound of an animated dead. She runs towards the sound to find a young girl barely seven or eight panting harshly through her tears as she scrambles away from a group of six zombies; it’s obvious her legs are tired as they wobble beneath her.

MJ surges forward, Angel Blade sliding into her hand. “Hey fugly, over here!” she shouts. As they turn towards her she grins, “Yea, I smell good don’t I? I taste even better; come on!” They lunge towards her at the same time as she does; her blade slices through their heads and body parts like a hot knife through butter, with speed and skill honed over her entire seventeen years. When number five falls she sees that number six is still chasing the small girl; “This way!”

The little girl lets out a loud sob as she turns sharply towards MJ, barely escaping the last zombie’s swipe of mangled fingers; the zombie follows her and as soon as he’s close enough MJ slams her blade up through its chin and straight into the brain, killing it for good instantly. When MJ turns around the little girl is curled up in a ball on the ground sobbing; the little girl has strawberry blonde hair and is wearing a blue t-shirt with a rainbow on it, khaki capris, and sneakers.

MJ crouches down next to her with a sympathetic smile. “I’m MJ; what’s your name?”

“S-Sophia,” she sniffles finally looking up; she has pale blue eyes and a smattering of freckles. “Thank you.”

“No problem; are you hurt?”

“I’m tired and hungry.”

“All right, I’ve got a few cans of soup; that should be good on an empty tummy, but first let’s find some shelter.” She slips the camouflage colored rucksack off and turns her back to the little girl. “Climb on, you’re probably too tired to walk; there’s a house not far from here.”

Sophia climbs on, arms wrapped securely around the older girl’s neck; MJ slips the bag back on over Sophia, to protect her from anything that attacks them from behind, and rises back to her full height, stooped slightly for balance. She walks for an hour and a half until they finally come across a lone farmhouse; she jars Sophia awake seeing as the little girl had fallen asleep only twenty minutes into their journey.

“I’m going to clear the house,” MJ warns as she lets her down. “You stay out here with the bag; if you see anything I want you to scream and use the bag as a shield, got it?”

Sophia nods, though she’s doesn’t look too happy about it.

MJ leaves her on the front porch and heads inside. She finds a body, but it looks like the owner of the house just took his own life, luckily with a shot to the head; she closes off that room and goes to get Sophia.

The house owner had boarded up all the windows so MJ just secures the two doors that lead outside and the one to the cellar before she starts working on their food. Sophia sits in the kitchen with her as she starts a fire on the old wood-burning stove, rinsing out a pot from one of the cabinets with a bottle of water to be safe.

“Here, pick out which one you want.” MJ offers her open rucksack to the younger girl, showing her a small multitude of canned soups.

Sophia shuffles through the cans, looking at all the labels to see the variety at her disposal before finally picking one; “Minestrone?”

“Good choice, a nice rounded soup,” MJ grins. “My favorite personally,” she winks at the young girl before taking the large can, enough for two people comfortably, over to the counter next to the heating stove. She pulls out her Swiss-army knife and opens the top, pouring the soup into the pot before tossing the empty can to the side; she cleans off a long-handled ladle and stirs the soup a bit before letting it sit to warm. She fishes around in her bag until she finds her last grape Gatorade and offers it to Sophia, “You need the electrolytes; sorry it’s warm.”

“Thank you,” Sophia smiles happily as she takes it.

“Take it slow and easy, don’t chug;” MJ warns. “The same goes for the soup, take your time and savor it.”

Sophia nods in understanding, sipping the purple Gatorade.

“So, why are you out here alone, Sophia?” MJ asks as she leans back against the counter next to the stove.

“I got separated from my group when some Walkers chased me, Rick found me and told me to hide but another Walker came,” she frowns at herself and picks at the label of her drink. “I tried to go back to the group but I got turned around and lost. I managed to lose one at a small river, and dropped my doll, but more found me; I’d been running forever when you found me.”

“You were with a group, any family?”

“We lost my dad a couple weeks ago; it was just me and my mom.”

MJ stirs the soup idly. “Do you know where you lost them?”

“On the highway; we were going through the cars there for supplies when a herd came through.”

MJ nods, “That’s not far from here, but it’s getting late; you should get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll head for the highway and look for your group.”

Sophia grins brightly, “Thank you, MJ.”

“No problem, kid.” MJ pulls two metal bowls from her rucksack, gives them both a quick rinse, and then ladles soup into each; she sets the full bowls on the table in front of Sophia and pulls two spoons from her bag as well. They eat at a sedate, unhurried pace, MJ explaining that there’s more soup if she’s still hungry after that bowl is finished.

“Why are you alone?” Sophia asks between bites.

“I got separated from my family, just like you, but I’m confident we’ll find each other again.”

Sophia nods. “I am too; if you’re this kick-butt on your own, I bet your family is just as awesome.”

MJ smirks in amusement.

They finish off the soup and clean up before trouping upstairs; while Sophia gets some sleep on the bed, MJ watches outside through the space in the boards over the window. Through the night a few ‘Walkers’, as Sophia called them, wander past the house, but none of them venture within thirty feet of the front porch and she doesn’t hear any sounds indicating any scraping at the back door.

In the morning MJ lets Sophia wake on her own; they have a breakfast of chicken noodle soup before setting off. Sophia’s legs are still weak from running all day yesterday and half the day before so she rides on MJ’s back the same as before, with the rucksack shielding her back from any attacks.

It takes three hours to reach the highway; it’s luckily empty of Walkers for the time being. Sophia remembers some of the vehicles they passed so she’s able to guide them to about the place she lost her group, but she becomes upset when she can’t see the RV they had.

“Look, there’s a note on that car.” MJ points at an older yellow car; the note says ‘SOPHIA STAY HERE, WE WILL COME EVERYDAY’, and there are supplies sitting neatly on the hood of the car.

“So we should just wait?” Sophia asks.

“That’s not safe.” MJ frowns; she lets Sophia down so they can scoop the supplies into the rucksack before she returns Sophia to her back. “They can’t be far if they plan to come by everyday; they must be at a nearby farmhouse.”

“Do you know the area?”

“Kind of, I do know of one farmhouse that’s still inhabited though; the Greene farm, it’s not far.”

Sophia makes a noise like she’s unsure.

“They obviously took the vehicles with them; if they’re not there we’ll come back here.” MJ assures her.

“Okay,” Sophia hums, satisfied.

MJ takes the quickest route through the woods to the Greene Farm, they meet two Walkers along the way but MJ dispatches them easily and carries on; they’re not far from the house when they hear another rustling in the foliage. MJ hides behind a fat tree and listens, but the steps aren’t shuffling like a Walker, they’re more like the steady precise steps of the living; she and Sophia peak around the tree’s width to see a man with dark hair, a sleeveless plaid shirt under a tattered black vest with dingy worn wings on the back and a crossbow dangling at his side.

Sophia bounces in excitement on MJ’s back. “Daryl!” she calls happily.

The man spins on his heel in surprise, his face dirty and eyes naturally squinted. “Sophia?”

MJ steps out from behind the tree since the crossbow isn’t automatically aimed at them; Sophia told her all about each person from her group, she only knew to be wary around the one called ‘Shane’.

“Shit,” Daryl curses under his breath as they approach each other. “You had us worried sick, girl.”

“I’m sorry,” Sophia mutters sadly. “This is MJ; she saved me. She gave me food and Gatorade, and she kept watch while I got to sleep and protected me!” she chirps proudly, bouncing on the older girl’s back.

“Thank you,” Daryl offers a hand in gratitude and MJ let’s go of Sophia’s leg briefly to accept it.

“I didn’t think it was safe to sit and wait on the highway, so we came looking for you guys.” MJ explains. “Took the supplies you left for her.”

Daryl nods. “Come on, let’s head back and reunite you with your mom.” He waves them to follow and MJ falls into step with him.

When they reach the farm people start calling to Daryl from a distance, voices all curious; MJ narrows her eyes as the first person to greet them is a muscled man with a shaved head charging towards them like bull, MJ draws back to fall behind Daryl who straightens his back and scowls at the other man.

“Are you crazy bringing outsiders here?” the man snaps, getting right up in Daryl’s face.

“Back off me, man,” Daryl shoves him back.

Several other people are inching closer, though none of them look threatening; a man in a battered county sheriff’s uniform with dark curly hair breaks through the crowd, heading straight for them with an unhappy frown on his face. “What’s going on? Shane, back off Daryl.” He mutters, yanking on the muscled man’s shoulder.

“She found Sophia.” Daryl snaps at Shane.

At the sound of her name Sophia’s head pops up from MJ’s shoulder. “Rick!” she chirps happily.

MJ kneels down to finally let the younger girl off her back; as soon as Sophia is free there’s a happy cry of her name and she looks up to see an older woman with short graying hair running towards them.

“Mommy!” Sophia runs to the woman, the two of them crashing into each other happily.

Several other people scramble over to greet the young girl.

“Thank you,” Rick mutters with a sort of awe in his voice as he holds out his hand to shake.

MJ politely takes it. “No problem, I’m just glad we found you.” A moment later she’s smothered in a hug by Sophia’s over-enthusiastic mother repeating the words ‘thank you’ over and over.

A blonde woman pries her off with an apologetic smile.

“Oh, we scooped up the supplies you left for her on the highway, where can I put them?”

“Don’t worry about that.” Rick shakes his head, “Please join us.”

MJ scoops up her bag with a frown. “I don’t think our greeter wants me here.” She jerks her head at Shane who’s still kind of glaring at her and Daryl. “Wanna dance, Curly?” she quirks an eyebrow at him in challenge.

Daryl huffs a laugh. “I like her.”

“How old are you?” Shane asks with an insultingly amused look on his face.

“Old enough to make you dance, Elmer.” She winks at him.

He takes a step forward but Rick throws an arm over his chest, an amused smile painting his face. “She’s got fire; besides she saved Sophia, you thought she was dead and wanted to give up.” He says in a stern I-told-you-so voice.

Shane scoffs and stomps away.

“Dude ain’t gonna kill me in my sleep, is he?”

Rick shakes his head.

Daryl elbows her arm, “Just don’t go on any supply runs alone with the guy.”

Rick scowls at him, “Shane isn’t like that.”

“Sophia says he’s started scaring her ever since you joined the group; I trust kid-instinct.” MJ shrugs. “Dude looks unstable; trust me, I know what it looks like.”

“C’mon, I’ll show you around,” Daryl smirks and leads her away.

Daryl walks her around the tiny camp they’ve set up in the front yard, introducing her to everyone; Sophia’s mom, Carol, takes her bag and sets it near their stuff, offering to do any of MJ’s laundry, which she declines. Daryl tells her about the people who live in the house and how they ended up staying here instead of waiting for Sophia on the highway; he then showed her around the rest of the farm, when they reach the wells MJ pauses next to the first one and frowns at the covering.

“What?” Daryl frowns at her over his shoulder when he realizes she’s stopped following him.

“There’s a zombie in this well, er, you guys call them Walkers, right?”

Together they remove the busted cover of the well and Daryl whips out a flashlight, shining it down the well.

“What up, Shamu?” MJ calls down the hole, frowning as the overweight Walker hisses and growls up at them, swinging his arms at them futilely. “How did that dude fit down there?”

“Well shit,” Daryl curses. He flags down a few people, including Rick, Shane, Andrea, Glenn, and T-Dog; “Walker in the well.”

“Shit.”

“We gotta get it out of there.” Andrea mutters.

“Um, no,” MJ shakes her head. “You either seal it off, or leave it open like this and hope more of them fall in there.”

“No, we get it out of there before it contaminates the water.” Shane growls at her.

“Fuck you, Crazy Pants; don’t jump down my throat just because you don’t like outsiders.” MJ snaps back at him. “Not only is the water already contaminated but it’s softened Shamu’s body; you try to pull it out of there it’s just going to fall apart. You were a cop before all this, right? Didn’t you ever see a floater? Water makes the body’s tissues soften and bloat, dumbass!”

“All right, that’s enough,” Rick muttered, the voice of reason. “She’s right; we’ll seal off the well and let Hershel know.”

“What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Oh hey Maggie; there’s, um, there’s a Walker in the well.” Glenn greeted with an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.

MJ looked up and frowned at the newcomer, that was not Maggie Greene, that was Bela Talbot; she could see the wear from Hell weighing on the woman’s soul, she wondered how long the woman had been topside. Bela had been a bit of a clairvoyant before her time came up, so MJ flexed her wings to see if her senses were still intact or if they’d been damaged in Hell; Maggie doesn’t make any notion she realizes, interestingly enough Daryl and Rick both finch and look around as if they caught something out of the corner of their eyes.

“Wha’s a matter with you two?” Shane scowls at them.

“Bugs,” Daryl shrugs, though he’s frowning like he doesn’t believe the excuse himself.

Rick doesn’t look convinced himself, but nods in agreement. “Yea, must be.”

Shane frowns and glances around like he expects a Walker to pop out at them, though there’s nowhere nearby for one to hide.

“Guess we’ve got to seal it off, huh?” Maggie frowns, grimacing down the well at the Walker.

“We’ll take care of it; reinforce the other while we’re at it so this don’t happen to the other one.” Daryl assures her.

“Thanks; I’ll let Daddy know.” Sighing in exacerbation she turns and heads back to the house.

“Here five minutes and I already get to earn my keep.” MJ smirks. “We got supplies to reinforce it, or do we get to play lumberjack?”

Shane glares at her before stomping off.

MJ leans over and elbows Daryl in the arm, “Did ya piss in his cheerios every day this week? You can tell me;” she jokingly whispers.

Daryl, Andrea, and Glenn all chuckle while Rick gives them a reprimanding frown.

“I get my smart-ass from my Daddy.” MJ grins; she flexes her wings again just to mess with the two men.

Daryl swats at nothing. “Wish Walkers would get a taste fer bugs, god damn it.”

“MJ, Daryl, can you two take care of this?” Rick asks.

“You got it, Sheriff.” Daryl nods.

The others disperse and the two get to work, moving quickly and efficiently.

Chapter Text

MJ has perimeter Walker patrol; she stands just out of reach as the Walkers gnaw on the chain-link fence and uselessly wiggle their fingers at her, but she’s not paying any attention to them. She stares over the Walkers’ heads at the woods where a Wendigo sits in a tree, out of reach of the Walkers that may disturb it, and watching the people inside the compound mill about their daily lives; MJ wasn’t even aware Wendigos could climb trees, but desperate times and all that.

The Wendigo blends into the trees, its body covered in moss, tree bark, and leaves, but she can see it like a beacon; its’ watching them with a desperate hunger in its’ beady eyes. Finally it seems to feel her eyes boring into it and turns to look, locking eyes with her, when they do, her eyes flash with Grace in warning; the Wendigo flinches away, getting the message. It turns as if to leave and then pauses, glancing at its’ own stomach as if it gave off a pitiful growl of hunger, the Wendigo glances back at the prison; MJ’s eyes shine brightly with Grace in angry warning, and it finally gets the message. She watches it leave, as quick as it is, until it’s well out of range; she smiles to herself when she realizes it’s headed in the direction of Woodbury and wonders if it will bother with a civilization that doesn’t have trees to hide in.

She already knows the Walkers are unperturbed by any show of her Grace and doesn’t bother trying; she already has her Angel Blade out so she goes back to work jamming it into Walkers’ heads to thin the crowd pressing on the fences. As she makes her way down the row toward the thicker crowds she frowns as she finds the remains of rat carcasses, a few Walkers down low enough to try and reach for them and failing.

She turns around, looking for someone in the yard whose attention she can get. Finally she sees Daryl, crossbow slung over his shoulder at the ready; she waves lazily, to show it’s no emergency, until she catches his attention. She mimes tipping an invisible hat to show she wants to talk to Rick; Daryl nods in understanding and jogs towards the fields where Rick is working.

MJ continues thinning the crowd until the two men finally reach her.

“What’s up?” Rick asks.

MJ points to the rat carcasses and body parts strewn across the ground just inside the fence like the Walkers had been eating them and dropped pieces. “Someone is feeding the Walkers; it’s why they’re crowding this area. They’re like animals at a zoo; they manage to get food in a certain spot, they’re all gonna crowd that spot.”

“Shit,” Daryl curses, pacing the area and finding more than a few pieces of evidence.

“What’s worse; they’ll either start climbing each other and eventually manage to get over the fence, or they’ll break it down with their weight.” MJ explains.

“Any ideas who’d do this?” Rick asks with his hands on his hips, frowning unhappily and looking haggard.

“Try the little sociopath in D Block,” MJ suggests. At the twin bewildered looks she receives she rolls her eyes at them. “Lizzie Samuels, she thinks the Walkers are people; she knows enough not to get too close or let them bite her, but she names them and tries to talk to them.” She shakes her head, “This isn’t like Hershel and his barn, she doesn’t think they’re just sick and we’re waiting on a cure, she thinks they’re still people and there’s no talking her out of it; does not compute.”

“Damn it; what are we supposed to do with her then?” Daryl frowns.

“Lock her in at night,” she shrugs.

“She’s a liability,” Daryl announces with a frown, not looking happy with his own assessment.

MJ frowns too, it had been on her mind but she’d managed to avoid killing anyone living so far and didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death, even if what Daryl said was true.

Rick heaved a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “I-I’ll take care of it; I’ll talk to her father to make sure she’s locked in at night, maybe we’ll increase the guard at night as well. Would you two work something out to thin this crowding here?”

“Yea, leave it to us, man.” Daryl agrees.

“We should check inside the prison as well, if she’s feeding the ones out here, maybe she’s doing the same to the ones inside the walls.” MJ suggests with reluctance to the idea of the possibility.

Rick’s jaw clenches unhappily but he nods. “I’ll have Michonne and Tyreese check it out.” He takes one last look at the line of rat carcasses before turning to head back in and take care of everything.

“Any ideas?” Daryl mutters grumpily.

“Maybe if we were willing to sacrifice some livestock,” MJ purses her lips in contemplation. “That inmate that led Walkers back here, we could follow his lead; maybe find a couple deer to sacrifice, a bear if we’re lucky, make some noise to draw them in?”

“Sounds good; I’ll let Mags and Delivery Boy know we’re headed out.” Daryl nods and heads toward the watch tower to do just that.

MJ takes out a few more Walkers to lighten the load against the fence until they can get someone to cover. A little twitch of her fingers brings the rat remains out of the Walkers’ range before she collects them to get rid of the bait drawing them in; she’ll take them with and chuck the remains well away from the fences.

They grab the quietest vehicle they have, the Hyundai SUV, and set out. It takes them a while, but they actually manage to find a bear; it’s an adolescent, but still a decent size and it has managed to find a rather secluded spot without any Walkers nearby. They kill it with a shot to the head through a silencer and then set up the noise maker to attract the Walkers; MJ is handy with her hands and manages to manipulate a car horn, with attached battery, into a controllable alarm that they could turn on and off with a key fob. Once their trap is set they catch a few more smaller animals to make a trail, all gamey creatures they couldn’t eat themselves like foxes and skunks, and even one sickly looking coyote; once a good trail is set they get a good distance away and turn on their alarm before getting even farther away. The alarm is a mix of one long blaring car horn and an insistent start and stop or a panic alarm; they wait an hour before heading back to the prison.

When they get back, they can still hear the alarm blaring in the distance and the crowds around the fences have thinned considerably; happy with their work they share a happy smirk and make their way inside.

Rick and Michonne greet them as they climb out of the SUV.

“Good job, guys,” Rick congratulates, looking pleased.

“Took a page outta our inmate buddy’s playbook; lure them with food and noise.” Daryl shrugged.

“Grabbed some supplies while we were out,” MJ announces, circling around to open the trunk. “Siphoned some more gas, found some more ammo, found some more clothes,” she lists.

“Found some bottled water too; girl knows how to pull off a miracle.” Daryl jerks his head at MJ to indicate she’d found the water.

MJ just smiled because she hadn’t found it so much as conjured it; they’d ‘found’ several full packs of unopened water bottles locked in the trunk of a car like the previous car owner had been hoarding it.

“Why don’t you go on all the supply runs from now on, you seem good at sniffing out the good stuff,” Michonne jokes as she helps Daryl unload the cases of water that fill the backseat.

“She’s also good with her hands; she rigged that alarm with a car horn, battery, and one of those car remotes.” Daryl tells them all.

MJ scoffs. “Ain’t nothing special,” she mutters in embarrassment.

Michonne laughs, “The two of you are so modest; is it a country thing?”

“The two of us? What did I do?” Daryl harrumphs.

Michonne only rolls her eyes, grin still lighting her face.

“Michonne has a point though; the two of you, Carol, Hershel and Beth, you’re all modest to a degree.” Rick agrees as he helps MJ unload the trunk by grabbing the tanks of gas while she handles the three duffle bags that rattle to show they hold the ammo she spoke of.

“But not Maggie, she’s kind of a spit-fire.” Michonne adds.

Carl, who’s wandered over amid their conversation, frowns in contemplation. “Hey MJ, where are you from anyway?”

“Well, my family are marauders, but they all pretty much originate in Kansas; my family goes back there every time a baby is due so we’re all rooted there.” MJ answers; she grabs another duffle bag, this one holding clothes instead of ammo, and tosses it at Carl. “Make yourself useful, Munch.”

Huffing, the boy wanders closer to grab another bag.

“So, does that mean your family would be in Kansas now?” Michonne asks.

MJ shakes her head. “They lost me in Georgia, they won’t leave the south until they find me,” she says with solid assurance in her voice.

“How’d things go here?” Daryl asks Rick as they lug supplies around.

“Surprisingly well; her dad agreed to lock her in at night, we’ll increase the guard at night, and MJ was right about the bait inside.”

“We found a couple rats tacked to boards at the end of some hallways,” Michonne explains.

“I think her dad is going to try to talk to her, but I think you’re right; I don’t know how much good it will do.”

MJ shrugs.

Chapter Text

Rick and Daryl are both inside, one of the rare days where they’re both off watch duty for the night; they’re sitting side by side on a bench with a foot between them. They’re conversing lazily with the others; watching Carl and Beth play with Judith at the table next to theirs while Hershel talks with Carol at another table; Maggie, Glen, and Michonne are out on patrol for the night.

MJ wanders in, her heavy boots making loud clomping noises on the concrete floors; she pauses in the doorway to take in the occupants before drowsily wandering over to Rick and Daryl. She squeezes into the space between them, hooks her arms through each of theirs and drops her head on Rick’s shoulder with her eyes closed.

Neither man pulls away from her but they share a frown of confusion as the teen has never been overly affectionate, she was a lot like Daryl when it came to affection; the others in the room look over at them with the same troubled confusion.

“MJ?” Rick asks cautiously.

“Sorry; I’m homesick and you two remind me of my parents.” She mumbles sleepily before switching her head to Daryl’s shoulder.

Rick takes a moment before switching into dad-mode; he slips his arm from hers and instead wraps it around her shoulders, his free hand reaching over to hold her hand. Daryl frowns but still threads his fingers with hers, he then shuffles closer so she’s comfortably squished between them.

“Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done; lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more…” Beth sings with a look on her face like she’s having trouble remembering the lyrics. She shrugs at the confused looks she gets; “She says it’s like her family’s theme song.”

“Once I rose above the noise and confusion, just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion; I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high…” Rick’s rough voice hums the lyrics softly.

“Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man, though my mind could think I still was a mad man; I hear the voices when I’m dreaming, I can hear them say…” Daryl mumbles, sounding reluctant in his participation.

“Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done; lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more…” everyone but MJ choruses as the teen smiles happily with her eyes still closed.

“Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season; and if I claim to be a wise man, well, it surely means that I don’t know…” Carl grins at Judith as she watches him with rapt attention.

“On a stormy sea of moving emotion, tossed about, I’m like a ship on the ocean; I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say…” Carol hums.

“Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done; lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more… Carry on, you will always remember, carry on, nothing equals the splendor; now your life’s no longer empty, surely heaven waits for you… Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done; lay your weary head to rest, don’t you cry no more…” they all sing together with a final note, even MJ joins in.

“Thank you,” MJ murmurs; she squeezes both men’s hands and heaves a sigh. “I’m gonna go crash now.”

“Yea, I think you’re overdue.” Rick agrees, squeezing her hand back.

Both men gently help push her to her feet as she stands with a drowsy wobble; when she continues to wobble as she walks Daryl climbs to his feet and guides her to her bunk, seeing as it’s on the second level. When Daryl returns he plops back down on the bench next to Rick.

“I swear that girl doesn’t sleep for a week and then she just crashes; it isn’t healthy.” Carol shakes her head.

“Ain’t nothing we can do about it; she’s stubborn.” Daryl reminds them.

“Did she eat?” Hershel asks.

“I saw her sucking on one of those military food ration packets a couple hours ago.” Beth tells them. “I don’t know how she does it; even if we are limited for choices, those food ration packets are nasty.”

“Some people acquire a taste.” Daryl shrugs, “I think she told me once her grandfather was a Marine; passed down his teachings, that’s why she’s kind of a survivalist like me.”

“Makes sense,” Hershel nods.

“I think I’ll like her family; they got good taste in music at least.” Daryl mutters.

Beth pauses a moment as she reaches out and strokes the thin hair on Judith’s head. “Do you think we’ll find her family? MJ seems pretty confident.”

“I don’t know,” Rick shakes his head sadly. “They didn’t have any meeting points, at least none that she’s mentioned; there’s no telling if we’ll ever find them.”

“She’s a good kid; I hope we do.” Carol smiles sadly.

“I wonder what she meant when she said you two remind her of her parents.” Carl piped up, looking at Daryl and his dad.

The two men shrug, having no answer to that; MJ didn’t talk too much about her family in detail, they didn’t even know their names or how many family members she had.

Chapter Text

They’d all just returned to the church after their supply runs when Abraham ducked towards Rick. “Someone’s coming up the road.”

Rick nodded and signaled everyone to hide and get ready; those inside ducking low and watching out the windows while those outside ducked behind whatever they could find for cover.

“Holy shit,” Daryl gasps. “That’s MJ.”

When they realize it, they all tumble out of their hiding places; Tara, Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene look on in confusion.

“MJ!” several voices called out in excitement as they run towards her.

She jerks, turning on her heel before colliding with Daryl first. “Shit, talk about a sight,” she mumbles into his shoulder; she exchanges tight hugs with everyone, even managing to get her hands on Judith.

The Father smiles nervously and politely bows his head in greeting to her.

“What up, Padre?” she salutes him with her free hand as she holds Judith on her other arm. “So where did you guys run off to? Came back to the prison to find a war zone; followed the first trail I could find until I couldn’t anymore, just kept going.”

“We all headed towards Terminus,” Rick tells her.

“Wow, I put way too much faith in you people; a lure like those signs can’t be anything but a trap.”

“Yea, we learned that the hard way; but thanks for the vote of confidence anyway.” Rick grumbles.

“Lose anybody?”

“No, thank God.”

“Did bring us all together though,” Daryl points out. “When the prison went we all got separated into groups; I lost Beth along the way though, she got taken.”

MJ nods, waiting until everyone is inside and the doors are closed behind them before she turns to fully face Rick, looking him straight in the eyes. “You’ve got shadows.”

Rick frowns, looking at the shuttered windows. “Daryl felt eyes on us the other night.”

“Two sets,” MJ tells him, handing Judith off to Carl. “Leave any survivors in Terminus?”

“The place was getting overrun, we didn’t stay to clear it; we were more focused on all of us gettin’ out alive.” Rick shakes his head, both in answer to her and at himself.

“Well, one shadow is a group, probably Terminus survivors, the other is a single; neither is getting close, probably wait ‘til dark, pick ya off.”

“Shit,” Daryl curses.

“I’m here now, Pocahontas; they have no idea what they’re dealing with.” MJ smirks.

“Oi, watch it!” Daryl points at her in warning but there’s no heat behind the threat. “Feathers,” he grumbles teasingly.

“Is it still epic?” she teases back.

“I hate you,” Daryl narrows his eyes at her.

Maggie hisses to get her attention and nods, grinning.

“Awe shit; how many people you talk to? Mind ya fuckin’ business!” Daryl swears at them as they snicker back at him.

“What?” Rick asks.

“Nothing!” Daryl snaps. “Damn it…” he grumbles.

“Inside joke,” MJ assures, waving off Rick’s confused look. “So what’s the plan?”

“Well, if they’re planning to pick us off the plan is we stick together, especially while the sun is down.”

“Bob, c’mere,” MJ points at him and waves him closer.

Confused, he approaches her.

She reaches up and drags a finger over his forehead, giving him a meaningful look. “Good?”

“Yea, thanks.” He mutters in embarrassment, stepping back.

Daryl frowns, getting it, he smacks the other man upside the head; “Dumbass.”

Later that night, while they’re all eating and relaxing MJ sits against the front door; it’s the only way in or out and she’s not letting anyone past her in either direction.

After Abraham’s speech Carol wanders over and slides down next to her.

“You okay?” MJ asks with an encouraging smile.

“Yea,” Carol answers with a crack in her voice.

“Is there a reason you don’t feel like you belong? Is it because of Sophia?”

Carol shakes her head, but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re all surviving; I assure and guarantee when the time comes none of you are going to Hell, not even Shane or the Governor.” MJ tells her. “It takes a truly evil soul or a bad trade to make the shit list into Hell; Crowley would hate you people.”

Carol chuckles. She pauses a moment to look out over the group all laughing and chatting. “Is what Abraham and Eugene say true?”

MJ frowns, but shakes her head. “Humans didn’t do this.”

“Can humans fix this?”

MJ pauses a moment before she answers; “My family can and will.”

“If humans didn’t do this, what did?”

“A douche-bag Angel with a God complex and a bad plan,” MJ mutters crossly. “We can’t really explain why it’s happening, but we know what, and we know how it started.”

“And that is?” Carol wonders.

“Metatron sealed off Heaven and Hell; normally when you die your soul either goes up or down or it attaches to something because you’re not ready to leave,” she explains. “But with Heaven and Hell sealed not even the souls can get in, they’re all trapped here in Limbo.” She shakes her head sadly. “As soon as the soul leaves the body, they reanimate; we don’t know why, but that’s what’s happening.”

“It takes a while for the change.” Carol mutters in confusion.

“It takes time for a soul to truly let go; the body may stop living, but the soul is always reluctant to leave.” MJ explains. “But now they’re just trapped here.”

Carol glances around the room a moment as what the teen is saying dawns on her. “Who is here?”

“Shane and Lori, they seem to be attached to Rick and Carl;” she jerks her head in their direction. “Sophia is here,” she claims as she flicks her eyes over Carol’s shoulder where the young girl’s spirit is standing.

Carol claps a hand over her mouth and chokes down a whimper.

“She’s content; she’s not afraid anymore.” MJ assures her; Carol nods to show she understands. “Merle comes and goes; I’m not sure where he goes when he leaves but he swings by every once-in-a-while to check on Daryl.” She smiles sweetly, “Think the big lug’s got a soft spot for Judith; I keep catching him watching her with a little smile on his face.”

Carol smiles fondly herself, looking over at Daryl who’s smirking at Judith and letting her tiny fist squeeze his finger. “So does Daryl,” she chuckles.

MJ nods in agreement.

“What about the others?”

“Hershel went back to the farm where the rest of his family is; I think he trusts Rick and the rest of us to watch over Maggie and Beth. Dale is back at the farm too; Amy stayed with Andrea, but they’re both back at the farm too now. T-Dog is still at the prison; I’m not sure he realizes he can leave, or maybe he just doesn’t want to.” MJ shrugs. “Michonne has lost people, they’re here with her; Tara’s sister, her niece, and her girlfriend are all here with her.”

“And Tyreese’s girlfriend, Karen, the one I killed?”

“Back at the prison, I don’t know why.”

“Lizzie and Mika?”

“At the prison with their dad,” MJ assures. “You aren’t a bad person, Carol. Karen didn’t even blame you, she understood; and the girls…Lizzie was sick, we already knew that, we just didn’t expect it to get that bad.”

“What are you girls talkin’ ‘bout?” Daryl grunts as he slides down the door on the other side of MJ. “If she’s talking about me, she’s a fuckin’ liar.” He warns Carol who chuckles at him.

“Your secret is safe with me, Maggie, and Beth.” MJ smirks at him.

“Ain’t a fuckin’ secret…ya told Beth too?”

MJ laughs. “I didn’t tell them; it was a mutual observation we all had and at one point discussed.” she tells him. “And for the record, Beth brought it up.”

“Son of Bitch,” Daryl mutters.

“MJ was just telling me the truth about what’s going on.” Carol tells him.

Frowning, Daryl catches Rick’s attention and motions him over; no one seems bothered by the small meeting going on in the back of the church as MJ once again explains everything to Daryl and Rick.

“Merle here now?” Daryl asks quietly.

MJ shakes her head. “I think he’s outside checking on our shadows; Shane is out there too.”

“Those two are working together? That’s a scary thought.” Rick murmurs, trying to make light of the situation. “What about Lori?”

“She’s over by Carl and Judith,” she jerks her head. She grunts uncomfortably when Shane’s spirit returns by walking through her.

“Do they know they’re dead? Do they know you can see and talk to them?” Carol asks.

“Yes on the first question, I’m not sure about the second.” She mutters because none of them have tried to talk to her or any of the others, almost like they don’t expect anyone to respond. “One way to find out,” she shrugs. “Hey; you don’t like it when people walk through you, don’t walk through us, ass-hat.” She snaps at Shane’s spirit.

Shane turns around and frowns down at her. “You can see me?”

“I can hear you too, jackass; can’t you see my wings now that you’re beyond the veil?”

Shane frowns at her a moment. “Merle’s keeping an eye on them, but those cannibals are getting antsy.”

“Shit; that means I gotta take a walk.” MJ mutters crossly.

“Tell Rick I’m sorry.”

“Nobody holds grudges against the dead; you went crazy, which happens in apocalypses.”

“Would you just…” Shane rolls his eyes.

MJ turns and looks Rick in the eyes. “Shane apologizes.”

“I don’t blame him for anything,” Rick shakes his head. “I wish things had turned out differently.”

When Shane opens his mouth to say something MJ shakes her head. “I am not the mediator to anyone’s ‘bro-moment’.”

Shane arches an eyebrow at her, looking amused. “You don’t seem to have a problem when it’s Daryl and Rick.”

“Dude, did you just…” she grins at him. “Something you want to share with the class?”

Shane scoffs. “Stop making everything gay.” He mutters before turning and walking over to Lori.

“Talk about over-compensation,” MJ mutters to his back.

“What?” Daryl asks.

“Your epic-ness carries across the veil, and you are not alone.”

Chapter Text

“FJ, Katniss,” MJ nods her head in greeting to the two as she approaches.

Rick has an amused smile on his face, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he nods back in greeting.

“The fuck ‘id you just call me?” Daryl scowls.

“Katniss, an archer in a popular teen-rag; they were planning on some movie adaptations before the world went to shit.” She shrugs and grins meanly at him, “Would you prefer ‘Robin Hood: Leather Edition’? ‘Pocahontas’?”

Daryl grunts at her and rolls his eyes.

“Did you just call me ‘Farmer John’?” Rick asks with his voice tinged in amusement.

“Yes,” she readily admits. “Oh, Pocahontas and John Smith!”

Daryl yanks a carrot out of the ground and throws it at her.

“Hey, hey!” Rick scolds, though there’s a chuckle in his voice. “You two are like squabbling siblings; food is not for throwing.”

“You don’t understand the concept of a food fight, do you?” MJ asks even as she throws the carrot back at Daryl. He throws it back and they just end up whipping it back and forth at each other as hard as they can.

Rick’s efforts to stop them are in vain so he resorts to drastic methods; he takes a handful of loose soil in each hand and throws it at the two, raining them in dust and awkward clumps of dirt. “All right, now,” he starts as they both freeze; the carrot dangling by its stem over MJ’s shoulder as she prepares to wing it at Daryl once again.

Rick is stopped abruptly in his speech as a splatter of mud slaps him harshly in the face.

MJ’s muffled chuckles break the abrupt silence that briefly falls over them.

Rick swipes as much of the mud off as he can with a quick twist and flick of his wrist; he glares at the two through the slop dripping off his brow over his eyes.

MJ’s arm snaps forward like a slingshot and the carrot whaps Daryl harshly in the chest with a small poof of dust.

“That’s it,” Rick announces; when he turns to grab more fistfuls of dirt Daryl and MJ both scramble for their own ammo. The carrot weakly smacks Rick in the back before dirt and mud starts flying between the three; there are a few roaring war cries and indignant squawks, but mostly the air is filled with playful laughter.

Hershel, Carl, and Carol stand at the top of the hill watching them; Carl laughs as Hershel and Carol look on in amusement.

“Well, at least they’re having fun,” Hershel tisks.

Carol lets out a chuckle as she nods in agreement.

“I would have expected Daryl to throw the mud at MJ, not my dad;” Carl laughs.

“Me too,” Michonne agrees as she comes up behind them, letting out a chuckle at the spectacle down the hill.

“He also threw the carrot at Rick,” Hershel points out.

“They’re washing those clothes themselves,” Carol announces.

The fight ends when Daryl decides it’s a good idea to tackle Rick into the mud and ends up tripping MJ while doing it; the three of them end up in the mud laughing and weakly flinging mud at each other.

Their four observers deem it safe and wander down the hill, smiling in amusement at the three.

“Having fun?” Michonne asks, snorting at their appearances.

MJ, who’s lying on her side in the squishy mud, sit up and grins at them; half of her head is slicked in mud and her hair drips wet plops back into the mud-pit where she sits.

“Glad I ain’t wearin’ my vest,” Daryl huffs, “It’d be a bitch to clean.”

“You guys are cleaning those clothes yourself,” Carol tells them.

“Yea, yea,” Daryl grumbles, mud-caked hand waving her off.

Rick sits up with a groan and rubs his chest with a grimace. “You play football in school or something, Daryl?” he grunts and scoops up another handful of mud to weakly splatter on the other man’s hip in protest to the pain he’s feeling from the tackle.

Daryl just grunts back at him, “Gettin’ old, Rick?”

Rick mutters unhappily; he reaches over and smears mud on Daryl’s mostly clean face in retribution while the redneck splutters at the treatment. “Call me ‘old’,” he mutters.

Carl laughs.

“Yea, who you callin’ ‘old’, Gramps?” MJ snickers.

“That’s it,” Daryl practically dives over Rick to try and pounce on the girl; she lets out a bark of laughter as she slips in the mud while clamoring to her feet to get away.

Rick let’s out an ‘oomph’ as Daryl practically lands on him when he slips in the mud trying to chase after the teen; he wraps his arms around the redneck’s torso and twists to halt any further fight. Daryl’s feet drag uselessly through the mud as he tries to push himself towards MJ who’s lying in the mud just out of reach and clutching her middle as she laughs.

“Okay kids; that’s enough,” Carol pipes up with a grin.

Rick let’s out another ‘oomph’ as Daryl suddenly goes limp on top of him.

“Why do I think this is your fault?” Hershel asks as he gingerly lends a hand to help MJ to her feet.

“Because she started it,” Daryl grumbles childishly into the mud over Rick’s shoulder.

“Do you two need help?” Carol asks.

“Oh,” Rick sighs, “Yes, please.”

It takes a stern look from Carol to get both Carl and Michonne in the mud with her to help the two men up. Daryl’s shoes refuse to find traction in the slick so it’s a chore getting him up without him falling back onto the ex-sheriff; he ends up using Carl as a crutch to get out of the mud-pit and back on to solid ground. When both men are finally out of the mud-pit, MJ is already halfway up the hill back to the prison.

“I’m ‘a get you one ‘a these days,” Daryl calls after her.

MJ spins around to give him a mocking salute, mud-wet hair slapping her neck and cheek; she turns back around and continues her way inside to clean up.

“You two hit the showers; I’ll bring you some clean clothes.” Carol says in her best mothering tone as she shoos them towards the prison.

“Carl, would you finish in the garden for me?” Rick asks as he wrings as much mud from his clothes as he can.

“Sure,” Carl agrees with a nod.

“I’ll help,” Michonne offers.

Daryl spits to the side with a grimace and drags his hands over his arms and face to clear away as much mud as possible.

“Go on, you two,” Hershel shoos them insistently.

Carol swats at them to finally get them moving.

Chapter Text

Rick is sitting by himself on one of the benches outside; fists clenched over his knees, teeth grit, and head bowed as he takes deep breaths to calm himself.

Everyone is giving him a wide berth after he just exploded, yelling at Daryl of all people about his kids; Daryl had been spending more time with Carl and Judith than Rick himself had managed and something had just snapped when he’d seen Daryl gently rocking Judith while Carl seemed to be excitedly telling the archer a story.

The wooden bench creaks as another body joins him, sitting directly beside him; he glances over to see MJ staring straight ahead at Michonne who’s showing off her blade to a small group of curious kids.

Rick heaves a sigh. “I know what you’re going to say,” because MJ is the wise voice of reason in their group, oddly enough, but she’s always quick to side with Daryl and himself first; he believes that given the choice between them she’d side with Daryl first.

“I don’t think you do,” she says in a thoughtful sort of voice.

Rick tries to shake off the tension in his body, shaking out his fists and instead crossing his arms over his chest; he straightens up and stares blankly ahead like the teen beside him is doing. “I owe Daryl an apology.”

“Well there’s that,” she hums, “But that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Yea?” he murmurs.

“I don’t think anybody but me has really taken notice,” she starts. “Have you ever stopped to think about Daryl and Sophia?”

Rick frowns, not sure what she’s trying to say.

“Daryl looked everywhere for her, he was insistent that she was still alive out there somewhere and we were going to find her; maybe a little hungry, maybe a little dehydrated, and a lot scared.” She shrugged one shoulder. “There was a point where even Carol had given up most of her hope about finding Sophia alive, but not Daryl; he went out day after day and nearly got himself killed retrieving her doll.”

Rick nods at the memory, but he’s still not quite sure where she’s going with this conversation.

“And Judith; while everyone else was grieving our losses he just scooped her up and took care of her,” she tilts her head and peers up at him. “I mean, yea, there’s such a thing as a natural but…”

It takes a moment before what she’s hinting at clicks into place and honestly it’s like a light bulb going off in his head.

MJ smiles and claps him on the thigh, just above his knee, and then pushes herself back to her feet. “There’s also that whole thing about respecting your elders, ya know.” She flashes a grin at him before wandering away.

He watches her leave, brow furrowed in thought. After she’s long gone he wonders where he can find Daryl; quick calculations tell him Daryl should be on watch in the tower now, he gets to his feet and heads that way.

“Hey,” he calls gently from the doorway.

Daryl doesn’t spare him a glance and only grunts to show acknowledgment.

There are two chairs in the tower for when Glen and Maggie share watch, so Rick takes up the empty chair. “I owe you a serious apology, Daryl; I’m sorry I snapped at you. This world we’re living in now…” he shakes his head sadly. “Carl’s growing up so fast and I feel like I’m missing it, that isn’t your fault…”

“Ain’t your fault either, Rick,” Daryl assures with a grunt. “That kid a’ yours is growin’ too fast. He’s stubborn, don’ wanna listen to no one,” he shakes his head.

“Yea, he hit his rebellious stage a little early, but he is at that age.” Rick agrees.

“Don’t worry about it; I get it man,” Daryl waves off his concerns and flashes him a quick smile to show no hard feelings.

Rick nods in appreciation and pauses a moment before continuing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“Did you have a son or a daughter?” he asks carefully, not sure if this will be one of Daryl’s buttons or not.

Daryl’s head whips around and he stares at Rick with hard eyes, guarded but curious.

Rick shrugs. “I had a little help from MJ finally putting the puzzle pieces together but its kind been right there for a while; you with Sophia, you with Judith. You don’t have to answer; I get what a sore subject it can be.”

Daryl turns back to his watch and they sit in silence for a long stretch of minutes. “A son.” He finally murmurs in a soft voice. “I didn’t really have friends growin’ up; I stuck close to Merle and his friends were my friends, but in high school there was this girl…Lucy.” A fond smile quirks his lips as he gets lost in his memories. “She was stubborn about wanting to be my friend; I tried to push her away because Merle gave me shit about bein’ friends with a girl I ain’t fuckin’ on the side, but she was almost like a damn stalker. She was the only friend I had my age and despite Merle and my dad, she stuck around; then one night, a few years back, we got drunk and one thing lead to another…” he twirled his wrist and flushed a little, not willing to say the words; Rick thought his embarrassment was kind of cute. “It’s not that I didn’ want anythin’ to do with the kid, just didn’ want him around Merle ‘r my dad, but she understood that and we had this weird joint-custody-thing goin’ on.” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

Rick doesn’t say anything, afraid if he does Daryl will lose his nerve to tell the story.

“When shit started goin’ down I went to find them; her place was ransacked, no bodies but there was blood.” He shakes his head at the memory. “I searched every damn inch of that po-dunk town lookin’ for ‘em; I looked at the livin’ and the dead. Finally Merle convinced me they weren’t there, they’d a’ got out long ago and headed to Atlanta like everyone else, so that’s where we went too; then I started lookin’ everywhere for ‘em there too, until the city became overrun and we had to leave. I still look for ‘em wherever we go but I think I’ve mostly given up hope at this point; mostly look for ‘em in the Walkers now if I’m honest.”

Rick nods sadly in understanding.

“His momma named him Markus; he’d be the same age as Carl.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, maybe a good twenty minutes pass before MJ’s parting words niggle at the back of Rick’s mind. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure,” Daryl raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“It’s something MJ said to me,” he starts to explain.

Daryl scoffs. “That girl is evil; don’t listen to anythin’ she tells ya.”

Rick smiles because he knows the relationship between the two is like that of feuding siblings; they rib each other good-naturedly but screw with either of them and the other will drop you like nobody’s business. “Are you older than me?”

Daryl honestly looks baffled at the question. “I don’t know; we ain’t exactly sat down and exchanged information,” he scoffs. “I don’t even know your favorite color,” he mutters with a teasing smirk.

Rick laughs, “I’m forty-one; and for the record it’s green.”

“Blue,” Daryl returns with an amused huff; “And I don’t know how she figured it out, but she’s right.”

“You’re older than me?” Rick asks, astounded. “Seriously?”

Daryl bobs his head in agreement. “Forty-five; and for the record Merle had almost twenty years on me, he was pushin’ sixty.” He pauses to look at Rick’s wide-eyed astonishment. “And we were half-brothers, different mothers.”

“Holy shit,” Rick mutters for lack of anything else to say.

Daryl laughs at him.

“What’s your secret? Squirrel meat?” he asks in jest, still wide-eyed and his thoughts still reeling.

Daryl laughs again.

Chapter Text

The Governor had shown up in a truck with four men, claiming he wanted to ‘talk’ with that car-salesman smile on his face; his men stayed in the truck and kept the Walkers at bay.

Rick had frowned, but made his way down the dirt driveway while the others stayed on the pavement by the prison, though they left the gate open and Daryl stood at the ready.

Rick stepped outside the fence to talk with the Governor face-to-face; negotiations seemed to be going arguably when MJ saw it. The Wendigo was stalking the trees, getting closer and closer by the second.

She startled Daryl when she shot past him, running down the dirt path at full speed; Daryl chased after her, hissing her name and trying to call her back since he couldn’t close the distance to catch her.

The Governor caught sight of her first, frowning unhappily; two of his men turned their attention, and weapons, on her instead of the Walkers.

Rick whipped around at their averted attention and frowned, waving her off. “MJ, everything is fine, go back!” He calls to her in his sternest, most commanding voice.

She shakes her head as she continues to run, “Get away from the woods!” she yells in a panic.

“MJ, go back, it’s covered!” Rick yells.

“Get away from the woods!” she calls again, crashing into the front gate and scrambling to get it open.

That’s when one of the Governor’s men turns and squints into the woods; when he catches sight of the Wendigo his eyes widen. “What the fuck is that?”

The Wendigo leaps from the cover of trees on inhuman feet; its’ face is drawn like it’s emaciated like one of the Walkers, with small beady eyes, sharp teeth set in its’ gnarled face, and long sharp claws at the ends of its fingers. It tears into the first man hanging out of the open jeep, unhindered by the wild shots the four men land amongst its lanky seven foot tall frame.

“Daryl, get Rick!” MJ orders as she dives for the jeep; she’s hoping she’ll find a flare in the truck, otherwise she’ll need to use her powers to kill the Wendigo.

Daryl, although wide-eyed, doesn’t delay in following the order as he grabs the frozen Rick and drags him back to the gate and through it; at this point the others have gotten closer and Maggie and Carol open the gate to let them in before securing it behind them. Daryl has one arm thrown over Rick’s shoulder and across the other man’s chest, his crossbow frozen at half-mast in his other hand; Rick has both hands clutching Daryl’s arm, his chest heaving in fear and adrenaline. Maggie and Carol stand stalk still by the gate, waiting to leap and let MJ back inside; everyone else stands there in stunned, wide-eyed silence and watches.

The Governor briefly backed up against the chain-link fence in fear but he shakes himself and starts moving forward, shooting at the beast.

When the Wendigo tears its’ attention away from tearing at the men in the truck to focus on the advancing Governor, one of the men in the truck is dead and two are badly injured; Carlos, the Governor’s right hand, is the least injured.

Carlos, cradling his shredded arm to his chest, turns his attention to MJ who’s still digging through their truck. “What are you looking for?” he hisses at her.

“Flare! Do you have any flares or a flare gun?” She asks frantically.

Frowning in confusion, he shakes his head, “Why?”

“Kill it with fire,” she answers. “Son of a Bitch,” she swears. She turns toward the Wendigo as it lifts its’ arm to slash at the Governor for a second time, “Hey fugly! I thought I told you to leave!”

It whips around and lunges at her, allowing the Governor to stumble hurriedly towards his truck and men, clambering inside.

A few people inside the prison fences scream her name in fright as the Wendigo slashes at her; as its’ claws tear into her skin, leaving five deep lines from her right shoulder all the way down to her left hip, she realizes this isn’t the same Wendigo she saw and scared away the other day, which means the woods are most likely crawling with supernatural creatures finally coming out of hiding to forage for food.

She doesn’t even flinch at the wound, her eyes flashing with Grace to let the creature know exactly what it’s dealing with, but the Wendigo is so mad with hunger it just slashes at her again.

“I warned you.” She claims; she reaches out a hand towards it and snaps her fingers; with a flash of bright white Grace the creature lights aflame.

 It screeches in terror and agony as it swats futilely at the flames, its’ body already crippling and charring until finally it collapses in a heap; it quickly burns down to ashes.

When MJ looks up the Governor’s jeep is long out of sight; their dead man lies in a mangled tangle of limbs a few feet from the pile of ash that was the Wendigo, Walkers have already started heading for it to feast. She turns and heads for the gate, unsure if they’ll let her in, but they do, looking as if they’re on automatic as they do so.

Once she’s safely inside the compound several people open their mouths to ask questions, many of them pause, unsure what to ask or where to start; Maggie finds her voice first, staring at her with wide eyes. “You’re a Hunter.”

MJ nods, “And I know who you are.”

“What the fuck was that?” Daryl finally manages to spit out; he and Rick are still clinging to each other, their bodies still frozen in shock.

“It’s called a Wendigo; only way to kill them is with fire.” She shrugs like it’s an everyday occurrence. “I chased one off the other day, just before I found the rat carcasses, but this one was mad with hunger; it didn’t want to heed my warning.”

“Where’d that fire come from? You just snapped your fingers and there was a spark of bright light and suddenly the thing was on fire…” Carl murmurs, sounding lost.

“There is a lot of explaining involved; maybe we should go inside?” MJ suggests.

Rick clears his throat, seeming to finally snap out of his stupor as he disentangles himself from Daryl. “Yea, let’s have this conversation…at least closer to the prison. We need to stay out here to keep watch; we shouldn’t exclude anyone from the conversation just to stay out here to watch the perimeter.”

“That’s a better idea.” MJ mutters; she finds herself shying away from them, not sure how they’ll react not just to the explanation of the supernatural world, but to her role in it as a Hunter and a Nephilim.

They end up in the cushioned grass, sitting in one big circle; MJ finds herself seated between Daryl and Maggie, though at a distance.

Finally, she rubs her hands together with nervousness and begins, fidgeting the whole way. “So, the undead are not the extent of the ‘things you never thought could exist’.” She begins. “Every story has a root of truth to it; every mythical creature you’ve ever read or heard about either exists now, or did at some point in time,” she pauses. “Oh, except unicorns; I’m not sure who’s ass those came out of.” She chuckles nervously. “Um, there’s a small community of people called ‘Hunters’ who know about the supernatural and make a living out of hunting it down and killing it.”

“So all supernatural creatures are bad?” Carl mutters.

“Most,” MJ answers. “There have been a few over the years that have opted not to harm humans.”

“Chupacabra?” Glenn pipes up curiously.

“Fugly little things, but they only go after goats and sheep.” MJ assures. “You guys seem pretty accepting.”

“Well, we are living in a world where the dead come back to life.” Carol smiles sweetly at her.

“Why is this the first time we’ve seen anything like that?” Sasha asks.

“When this all started, the supernatural creatures of the world didn’t know what was going on either, so they went into hiding, but now time has passed and they’ve gotten hungry.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Daryl grumbles.

“Um, what about Heaven and Hell; the Bible?” Beth asks cautiously.

“Heaven and Hell, Demons and Angels, God and the Devil, all of them really do exist; but the Bible is an interpretation of the Word of Man, not God, so it gets a lot of stuff wrong I’m sorry to say.” MJ twiddles her thumbs a bit. “And I’m also sorry to tell you, God is MIA and most Angels are giant dicks that couldn’t give two shits about humanity; most being the key word there.”

As everyone mutters quietly to each other Hershel looks like he wants to argue, but isn’t sure what he wants to say.

“I’m not really one of Hershel’s daughters.” Maggie suddenly announces, making everyone suddenly silent.  “In late two-thousand-eight Hershel was coming home from a vet call and found me on the side of the road; he took me in and made me part of his family. For the first six months I couldn’t remember anything; I had horrible nightmares where I’d wake up screaming myself hoarse, but I could never remember what the dreams were about. After those first six months memories started returning to me, getting triggered by the littlest thing.” She frowns sadly at Hershel and Beth in apology before she continues. “My name was Bela ‘Abby’ Talbot, my father was abusive and my mother never did anything about it. When I was fourteen I met another young girl on the swings in a park, and at the time I didn’t know she was a demon; I sold my soul to her to kill my parents. In two-thousand-six my contract was up and the Hell-Hounds came to drag me to Hell; I still don’t know how I ended back up here.”

There was silence around the circle.

“An Angel dragged you up, I know that much; why, I couldn’t tell you.” MJ tells her.

“An Angel?” she asks with a sniffle.

“Do you have a mark anywhere? Like a hand-print?” MJ asks.

Maggie shakes her head.

MJ frowns.

“How do you know it would leave a mark?”

“You’re not the first to be dragged back topside. I suppose it could have been Crowley, he did bring my great-grandfather back, but he’s kind of hands on with his investments; you would know by now why you were brought back if it was him.” MJ mutters aloud thoughtfully.

“Crowley? But he’s just a crossroads Demon,” Maggie frowns.

“He upgraded to King of Hell when Sam and Dean put Lucifer back in the Cage.” MJ explains.

“You’ve lost the rest of us.” Daryl announces.

“So, what was that flash of light?” Carl asks, changing the subject.

“Oh, I’m not completely human,” MJ fidgets once again. “I’m what’s called a ‘Nephilim’.”

“Like from the Bible?” Beth chirps.

“I’m the two point oh version, completely safe,” MJ assures. “I’m half human, half Angel of the Lord.” She fidgets amongst the awkward silence that follows. “Now that everyone knows…Hershel, do you want your leg back?”

“You can do that?” Hershel asks in awe.

“Yes; but before you ask I can’t cure the bitten or anyone that’s already changed, though if you’re just shot in the head I can bring you back.” She fidgets again. “Oh and Rick, you weren’t going crazy, Lori was haunting you; all the lost souls are still here actually, they don’t have anywhere to go.” MJ finds herself rambling. “This actually all started because an Angel named Metatron sealed off Heaven; the souls don’t have anywhere to go so for some reason instead of just wandering Limbo they’re going Zombie, it’s a weird coping mechanism, we can’t explain it.”

“Wait,” Daryl barks. “All this is because some douche Angel sealed off Heaven? Why’d he do that anyway?”

“Because he’s a douche,” MJ stated in a sort of ‘duh’ tone. “He was trying to make himself God, he failed.”

“My mom is still here?” Carl asks in a small voice; he has Judith cradled in his lap.

MJ pauses and glances around to see if she can spot Lori amongst the multitude of wandering lost souls on the prison compound; most of the spirits she see’s are inmates and guards. She spots T-Dog first; he’s hanging out on the paved driveway of the prison, wandering in circles and looking lost and bored. She sees Sophia wandering the garden; her hands are clasped behind her and she looks like she’s humming as she swings her body a bit. Oddly enough she sees Shane next, he’ll most likely follow the group wherever it goes; he’s walking the perimeter, watching the few Walkers pressing against the fences. Finally she spots Lori in one of the windows of the prison.

“She’s inside.”

There’s an awkward shuffle from the group at the thought that people they can’t see are watching them.

“Do we know anyone else hanging around?” Carol asks cautiously; her eyes flick around as if she expects to suddenly be able to see someone.

“Sophia is looking at the garden; she looks content.” MJ tells her in a soft voice.

Carol smiles, eyes watering as she looks over to the garden.

“T-Dog is wandering the pavement; he looks bored.” She points up the driveway toward where she can see him pacing back and forth; they all turn to look as if they can see him too. “Shane is here.”

“He is?” Rick asks, his voice sounding strained.

“Since he didn’t die here at the prison he’ll probably follow the group around,” she explains. “He’s walking the perimeter.”

There are also two men with a toddler standing behind Michonne; she’s noticed that they follow her everywhere. Late one night while Michonne was actually sleeping MJ had talked to them; they said their names were Mike and Terry, and the toddler’s name was Andre.

“Can you talk to them, or just see them?” Daryl asks.

“I can talk to them; I avoid doing it during the day so you guys don’t think I’m crazy.”

“The Governor had a daughter; have you ever seen anyone around him?” Michonne asks.

“The spirits I see hanging around the Governor don’t look happy; I think they’re all people he’s killed.” MJ shrugs.

“Who have you talked to around here?” Beth asks.

“Mostly Sophia; I lectured Lori when she was haunting Rick, but otherwise I don’t think they realize they can talk to me.”

Chapter Text

MJ was frowning at the woods as they walked, she was afraid something like this would happen; when the Walkers first started appearing all other supernatural creature went into hiding. Now though, enough time had passed that now the supernatural creatures were getting hungry, and fighting them off would be harder than fighting off a Walker.

“See something?” Daryl asks.

“No,” MJ shakes her head with a frown, because that’s what worried her; she could sense it watching them and following them, but it was keeping a distance, probably planning its next move.

Ten minutes later a woman’s voice screams in terror before calling frantically for help somewhere in the trees, making the entire group stop and tense.

“No, leave it; keep going.” MJ urges.

“Someone’s calling for help,” Eugene mutters like they can’t all hear it.

“It’s a trap; just keep moving.”

“How do you know that?” Abraham frowns.

“Dude, I know you don’t know me, but back off.” MJ snaps at him. “You want to go get eaten, be my damn guest, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“She’s got a point, if there’s a herd of Walkers on her, we don’t want to call attention to ourselves if we can avoid it.” Rick mutters. “Let’s keep moving.”

MJ feels eyes on her and turns to see Maggie staring at her with a calculating look; it’s understandable, MJ has always been the first to jump in and help someone she didn’t know, and although they’ve all been jaded by now it hasn’t seemed to phase the teen.

She walks straight up to MJ and looks right into her eyes. “Why?”

MJ cocks her head as she reads the woman’s mind to see her train of thought, when it lands on the supernatural she makes her bright blue eyes flash briefly with Grace; Maggie’s eyes widen and she falls back a step.

“W-What is it?” she whispers as they fall into step with the group as they begin moving again.

“Wendigo,” MJ answers.

“And what are you?”

“Nephilim; I’m a friendly.”

“I imagine if you weren’t you’d have killed us by now.”

“Super friendly; I’m a Winchester.”

Maggie’s hands shake a moment before she clutches one of MJ’s in hers, squeezing it tightly.

Chapter Text

They’re trooping down the train tracks at a relaxed pace when Rick stiffens, though he keeps moving; there is a group several feet ahead of them, appearing as they round a bend in the tracks.

Daryl frowns, “We could detour off the tracks to go around them, deal with them if they follow us.” He suggests.

MJ, who is behind the two men towards the back of the group looks forward from where she’s watching the woods for Walkers. “And if they do…” she trails off as she squints at the other group. A moment later she surges forward; Daryl and Rick both make a grab for her when she goes to pass them but she sweeps passed them just out of range. “Daddy!” she calls happily.

Dean, at the head of the group rushes forward, scooping her up in his arms as they reach each other; as she wraps her arms around his neck he wraps one arm around her back while the other cradles the back of her head.

Sam catches up at a trot, touching MJ’s shoulder as if checking to make sure she’s actually there.

The two groups meet in the middle of the tracks, watching each other with interest.

When Dean finally releases her she quickly turns to hug Sam next. Dean steps forward with a relieved smile on his face and offers his hand to Rick first, “Thank you; I’m Dean by the way.”

“Rick, and we should be thanking you; your daughter has saved us plenty of times.” Rick responds as he shakes the other man’s hand.

“Lollipop!” Gabriel chirps excitedly; he grabs her as soon as Sam let’s her go and swings her around.

“Whoa! Uncle Gabe,” she chuckles.

Chapter Text

It was a mad house.

Everyone had gotten separated in the scramble to escape the monstrous hoards of Walkers.

Most of their group had managed to get on the roof where the Walkers couldn’t get them, even if it did trap them like rats.

Rick glanced around at who had made it up there when he realized amongst the missing was Carl, who’d been carrying Judith, and Daryl; he whips around wildly as if they’d suddenly appear, like he’d somehow overlooked them. “Carl!” he screamed frantically; “Daryl!”

“Dad!” Carl’s voice came from below at a distance.

They all look over to see the three on the ground, cornered against a solid wall. Carl is clutching Judith tightly to his chest, covering her as best he can with his back to the encroaching hoard so that Judith is shielded by his body and the wall; Daryl has his back against Carl’s, facing the Walkers, a gun in one hand and a knife in the other as he takes out each one that gets too close. But the Walkers greatly outnumber them, and there’s no way to get to them; it’s only a matter of time.

Seeing this, Rick chokes on a hysterical cry; his choices are to either watch them die, or die with them.

MJ grabs his arm suddenly, her face set in a confident resolve. “Rick, do you trust me?”

He studies her face a moment, not sure what she’s planning. “Yes, of course.” He answers resolutely.

She whips around and takes off down the awning that leads straight to Daryl and Carl on the ground. “Daryl!”

“What?” he snaps irritably as he kicks one Walker back while he stabs another in the forehead; his gun has long run out of ammo.

“Do you trust me?” she screams to him as she thunders down the awning’s roof.

“Hell yes!” he calls back.

Rick watches, as soon as Daryl answers her, he blinks and she’s gone. He’s about to look around, see if she dove into the crowd of Walkers and he missed it, when he hears a fluttering sound like a flock of birds taking off next to him; he turns to see Daryl blinking dumbly, Carl holding Judith with his eyes still squeezed tightly shut, and MJ slowly releasing her grip on each of their arms and stepping back.

“What-?” Beth gasps; that’s when Rick realizes they’re all staring with wide, confused eyes.

Rick shakes it off to wrap his arms around his children in relief; he takes a moment to check them over for bites or scratches, he does a quick visual check of Daryl as well before turning his attention to MJ.

She’s stepped away from them all and she’s watching them warily, like she expects them to attack her.

“How did you do that?” Rick asks calmly; he places a hand on Daryl’s shoulder mostly to assure himself that the man really is there, just like his kids.

“Zombies aren’t the only supernatural thing to exist in this world,” she murmurs, her eyes serious as she meets his. “I am what’s called a Nephilim; I am half human, half Angel of the Lord.”

“Ya got wings?” Daryl murmurs, the question clearly saying ‘how come I never noticed?’

“My wings are invisible to the human eye.” She explains followed by a sound like rustling feathers. “Because I am only half Angel, my powers are limited; but I have always done everything I can to help you survive.” She drops her head in shame and frowns at her own feet. “I may have been able to do more for you if I had told you sooner; I can heal bites as long as the fever has not yet set in, and I can bring back the dead as long as they have not gone through the change.”

“You weren’t around when we lost most people,” Rick reasons after a moment of silence.

“Always with the wrong people at the wrong time,” Sasha scoffs.

“Hey! She’s not lying, she did everything she could to protect us when she could; she’s been vital.” Rick snaps in his Leader-voice.

“She’s right though,” MJ murmurs. “If I had been in the prison with them, I could have saved Lori and-“

“We lost Lori and T-Dog at that time; he sacrificed himself to save Carol and we’re not going to spit on his memory with could-haves.” Rick states. “The same goes for Lori; it was her or Judith and she chose Judith.”

“I was sleeping when we lost Dale.”

“You’re still half human; you need your rest just like the rest of us, don’cha?” Daryl huffs at her like he’s mad she seems to be trying to get them to hate her.

“If I’d told you all sooner I could have made stronger walls the Walkers and the Governor couldn’t have gotten through at the prison.”

“Could ‘a, should ’a, would ’a,” Daryl scoffs. “Shit happens.”

MJ opens her mouth to say something else, brow furrowed, when Beth leaps forward and wraps her arms around the other girl.

“It’s okay to be scared; we’ve all seen what humanity is capable of at this point.” Beth murmurs in a soothing tone. “You don’t scare us; we won’t hurt you.”

Maggie strolls over and joins her sister, wrapping her arms around both of them. Carl is next, holding Judith with both hands; he leans against the girls, putting his forehead against MJ’s shoulder. Michonne sheaths her katana and joins them, then Daryl and Rick, and slowly everyone else joins the group hug until MJ is smothered in the middle grinning stupidly and clinging back to them.

“Okay, enough of the chick-flick moment, all of us smell.” MJ complains a moment later.

“Amen.” Daryl huffs as they all start disentangling from each other with amused chuckles among them.

“Can you get us out of here?” Michonne asks, glancing over the edge of the roof at the monstrous hoard surrounding the building.

“I need a destination; flying blind is never a good idea.”

Chapter Text

They’d managed to tie everyone up and snag MJ’s Angel Blade.

Gareth was twirling the blade in his hands teasingly, thoroughly inspecting the strange weapon as he stood over a bound and dazed MJ; the rest of Rick’s group sat bound and gagged and tossed in a pile like useless rags.

“This is interesting; where did you find it?” Gareth asks in a mocking voice. He shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. I think we’ll take this one first; you seem to make the most trouble.” He points the blade at her threateningly. “Arm, leg, or torso; anyone want to call dibs?”

“I’ll take your head,” a timbered voice claims as the thick barrel of a heavy-set gun touches the back of Gareth’s head.

Gareth freezes. “You pull that trigger it will go straight through me and into her,” he warns.

“She can take it.”

“It will hit her heart.”

“She’ll live.” The gun cocks threateningly. “You won’t.”

“There’s only one of you; there’s five of us.”

“Learn to count.”

Gareth flicks his eyes up to see each of his remaining people held at gunpoint, weapons already dropped to the ground and hands up in surrender; they each send him apologetic looks. He reluctantly drops the Angel Blade to the side and raises his hands in surrender.

“Balthazar, this one first,” the timbered voice demands.

A lean framed man with short dirty blond hair and patchy facial hair wandered over and roughly grabbed Gareth’s hands, zip-tying them together before knocking the man on his stomach and doing the same to his ankles; he then tied his ankles and wrists together in an imitation hogtie. Once done with Gareth, he moved on to the next, and then the next.

The first man tucked his gun away in the back of his pants, under his shirt, then scooped up MJ’s Angel Blade and tucked it beneath his belt at his side. He pulls out a hunting knife and turns MJ on her side and cuts her bindings. “Darlin’?” he asks as he cups her cheek.

Her eyes flutter a moment. “I’m okay, Daddy, just woozy;” she murmurs.

“All right; lay still and it’ll pass.” He assures her. He stands and heads towards the rest of the group; cutting Rick and Daryl free first, he hands them each a blade so they can free the others together.

Gareth scoffs where he’s hogtied. “You’d have shot your own daughter?” He goes ignored.

Once everyone is free Daryl and Rick hand their borrowed knives back to MJ’s father before going to collect their own weapons where the Terminus survivors hand piled them. A quick round of introductions is made; MJ’s father’s name is Dean, the others are Sam, Cas, Gabe, Crowley, and Balthazar.

“You’ve got excellent timing,” Rick praises.

“Apparently,” Dean agrees as he helps MJ sit up and slowly rise to her feet. “What did he hit you with?” he mutters as he gingerly pets her head, checking for injuries.

“I don’t know; a semi?” she mutters with a wince as her head rings.

“I do not believe a semi would have done much harm,” Cas states as he approaches them, shotgun held at his side.

“I’m only half, Papa!” MJ whines.

“A semi would even knock you on your ass, Cas.” Dean huffs.

“Clocked ‘er with this,” Daryl states, scooping up the battered-looking gold flute and tossing it over to Dean.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Gabe yells.

“Fucker clocked me with your Horn?” MJ snaps angrily.

“Where did you find this?” Cas demands in an almost thunderous voice.

“Not good?” Daryl mutters.

“It’s the Horn of Gabriel; it’s a weapon of Heaven, that’s the only reason it hurt me.” MJ replies as she rubs the back of her head.

Chapter Text

MJ is sitting outside with a bunch of other teenagers and women; the girls were either washing or mending clothes while MJ and the boys cleaned and sharpened weapons. The others are all chatting about Rick and Daryl, all of them swooning in some way or another; MJ finds herself chuckling at them and shaking her head.

“Daryl is cooler; nothing against Rick or anything, but Daryl’s way more badass.” One of the boys is saying.

“Dude, that’s just cause he’s younger,” one of the other boys starts to say.

“That just makes him more eligible,” one of the twenty-something girls from ex-Woodbury smirked saucily causing all the females to burst out in giggles.

“He’s not that much younger than Rick,” one of the boys scoffs.

“He’s not.” MJ hums.

“See, MJ agrees with me.”

“No, I mean he’s not younger than Rick; Daryl has four years on Rick.” She explains. She understands where they’re coming from; Daryl has a young face, much like her own father, and can better pass off as being anywhere in his thirties than his actual age, while Rick can only pass for his real age or a couple years younger.

“No way!” is shouted at her in several incredulous voices.

She smirks as she bobs her head. “Rick is forty-one, Daryl is forty-five,” she tells them. “Merle was fifty-nine, by the way.”

Several people mutter to each other and themselves in disbelief and doubt.

“Oi,” Daryl barks as he approaches them, causing an awkward silence amongst the group.

“What?” MJ snaps back playfully.

“You making those arrows you promised me?” he grumbles.

“Yea; I gotta smooth ‘em out.” She mutters; “Unless you want to shoot yourself in the eye.”

“Daryl, how old are you?” Beth blurts out before clapping a hand over her mouth.

“What the fuck?” he grumbles irritably.

“Cranky old man,” MJ teases.

“Ain’t that fuckin’ old,” he snaps, giving her a playful shove.

“Older than Rick,” she hums.

“Don’ start that shit again, damn it!” he shouts before stomping off.

“For the record?” MJ calls after him.

“Older ‘n Rick, younger ‘n Carol; otherwise mind ya fuckin’ business!” he barks over his shoulder.

“Told ya so,” MJ smirks.

Chapter Text

MJ and Daryl are sitting in the guard tower on duty on a lazy, comfortable day. They’d been sitting in a comfortable silence for the last half hour when MJ noticed Daryl watching Carl and a few of the other kids playing in the grass a good distance from the fences.

“Do you miss him?” MJ asks in a quiet, cautious voice.

“Miss who?”

“Your son,” she answers just as cautiously.

Daryl whips his head around to stare at her and she throws her hands up in surrender.

“I wasn’t reading your mind or anything like that; it’s just…souls tell stories,” she shrugs a little helplessly. “When they’ve had offspring they shine a certain way; I can’t explain it.”

Daryl nods, but doesn’t say anything right away. “I’m kinda glad he didn’t live to see any of this shit; didn’t have to live through any of it,” he murmurs quietly. “He’d be Carl’s age.”

“How’d he die?”

“Had leukemia; his mum got in a car accident drivin’ him to chemo, didn’t make it.”

MJ nods.

“Will I see him?” Daryl asks; his rough voice so quiet she barely understands him.

“Yea, not too soon though,” she gives him a faint smirk.

“His mamma named him Markus; he was nine.” Daryl rasped, mostly to himself. “So he just missed all this shit going down.”

The two of them are quiet for a few moments after that.

“Shit, did we just have a fuckin’ moment?” Daryl gripes.

MJ throws her head back and laughs.

Chapter Text

Daryl and Rick had gone on a supply run to a nearby building to scrounge up anything they could when a small swarm of about thirty Walkers practically pounced on them. They’d managed to get mildly separated, each of them on one side of the lawn; for whatever reason more of the Walkers were converging on Daryl than they were on Rick.

Daryl had just slammed his blade into one Walker’s head when he heard Rick yelp his name in alarm followed closely by a hot, rank puff of breath on the back of his neck from a too close Walker that had somehow crept up on him. Daryl whips around, stumbling back a step to get distance, and the Walker’s head explodes; a long bladed machete splitting its skull. Daryl blinks, and follows the blade to see its wielder.

The man with the machete is somewhere around Rick or Daryl’s age, maybe younger; he’s a couple inches taller than both of them at six foot one, and certainly the ‘prettiest’ man Daryl’s ever seen outside of a clothing ad. He has light brown hair cut short in an almost military cut; a straight nose, a strong jaw, high cheekbones, plump lips, and hard green eyes. He’s wearing worn jeans and a black t-shirt layered under a stiff gray-blue button-up, layered under an army green cargo jacket with dark brown work boots.

Daryl gives him a slight nod. “Thanks,” he grunts.

“No problem,” the guy grunts back in a voice almost just as gruff as Daryl’s.

Soon Daryl finds himself back to back with the other man as they take out the remaining Walkers. When the last one falls, Daryl checks on Rick first; he’s struggling to wedge his blade out of the last Walker’s head.

“Rick, you good?” he calls to the other.

Rick grunts, wobbling back a step as he finally pulls his knife free. “Yea; you?”

“Yea,” he nods before turning to the newcomer, “Thanks again, man; Daryl.”

“Dean,” the guy tells him with a nod in greeting. He takes the hand Rick offers as he ambles over to them.

“From around here?” Rick asks.

Dean shakes his head. “Not really, I’m looking for my daughter; we got separated a while back and I’m not quitting ‘till I find her.”

Rick nods his head. “I get that; I was in your position a few months ago.” He shares a look with Daryl; a short, silent conversation. “Listen, we have a camp and it’ll be dark soon; if you need a place?”

“Actual sleep and shelter would be awesome, but…we just met; you really trust me?” Dean frowns at him. “Monsters I get, humans are crazy; unpredictable.”

“Don’t we fuckin’ know it,” Daryl grumbles, thinking about the Governor.

“I just gotta ask you a few questions.” Rick explains.

Dean nods in understanding.

“How many Walkers ‘you killed?”

“Haven’t been keeping track; keeping my family safe has been a bigger priority than tallying a score board.”

Rick nods his understanding. “Where’s the rest of your family? They’re not with you?”

Dean shakes his head. “I parked them somewhere safe and went out on my own.”

“How many people ‘you killed?”

“That’s not a number I like to dwell on, but I only kill the living if they threaten my family.”

Rick nods. “You can come back with us.”

“We’re in a prison, so you make a wrong move and we can lock ya in at night,” Daryl assures him half-jokingly.

Dean chuckles and gives an impressed look, “Deal.”

They scoop up their supplies and make their way back to the Hyundai before heading back to the prison; Dean does not have a vehicle.

“No use missing her ‘cause I drove past her,” he reasons when Rick asks him about it.

When they reach the prison Dean helps them unpack their supplies and they head inside where Rick briefly introduces him to everyone.

Dean is shaking Hershel’s hand after being introduced when an incredulous voice calls out from the doorway to the cells; “Dean?”

Dean turns and his eyebrows practically go into his hairline, “Bela?”

“Oh my…” she gasps before charging him, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging to him desperately.

As the handsome newcomer returns the embrace Glen frowns unhappily and suspiciously.

“Shit,” Maggie swears breathily as she clings to Dean like he’ll disappear if she let’s go.

“What the hell?” Dean murmurs with a humorless laugh as he holds her; finally he pries them apart to hold her at arm’s length. “How the hell are you here?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember,” she shakes her head. “One minute I was-“

“Should we be having this conversation in private?”

“No, they all know,” she assures him with a sniffle and a slightly hysterical laugh. “We were attacked by a Wendigo a couple weeks ago.”

“Well damn,” he smirks.

“Yea, I’d never seen a Wendigo before.”

“Not many people live to; the few we’ve taken care of over the years have all been in dark caves.” He shrugs, “So, you don’t know how you got topside?”

She shakes her head and explains how Hershel found her and made her one of his daughters, and how it took her six months before she started remembering things, and even then she still didn’t remember how she was brought back.

“That’s weird,” he frowns; “I mean Cas brought me and Sammy back and he ended up leaving a mark on both of us; ‘course he healed Sammy’s mark but not mine, proud bastard.” He rolls his eyes.

“You were in Hell? Both of you?” she gasps.

“Sammy died; I sold my soul to bring him back and they gave me a year.”

“But ten years is the standard price,” she frowns in confusion.

“Winchester special,” he smirks ironically. “Anyway, a year after Cas dragged me topside Sammy willingly jumped into Hell in order to put Lucifer back in his cage; Cas went down and got him soon after.” He shrugs again like it’s no big deal. “We’ve both spent our fair share of time in Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory; fun times.”

“No offence, but ‘m glad ‘m not you,” Daryl huffs.

Dean chuckles, “Don’t blame you, man.”

“What are you doing here? Where’s Sam?” Maggie asks.

“He’s with the rest of the family; keepin’ watch. I’m out here looking for my oldest daughter,” he explains.

Maggie raises an eyebrow and looks impressed. “You have a daughter; and an oldest daughter, at that?”

“Sammy and I have five kids each; I’ve got four daughters and one son, and Sammy has three sons and two daughters.” He pauses a moment before he looks her right in the eyes. “We got into this weird tradition where we named all our kids after people we’d lost; my youngest was named after you, Palmela Bell,” he chuckles, “We call her Mel Bell.”

Maggie smiles softly, touched. “I thought you hated me.”

“That’s why it took four kids,” he teases.

There are voices at the door as MJ and Michonne return from their own supply run.

“Mary?” Dean whips around.

MJ blinks dumbly a moment. “Daddy!”

Chapter Text

MJ frowns at the Terminus sign, wondering if anyone is actually stupid enough to fall for it; but then she comes across the sign from Maggie to Glen and rolls her eyes. She follows the tracks and heads to Terminus; when she arrives she circles the place to get a read on it.

She hides in the trees when she sees armed gunmen leaving the main building and approaching a train car; they wrestle Rick, Daryl, Glen, and Bob out of the large metal box before hogtying them and dragging them inside.

She sighs, rolling her eyes; these aren’t people, they’re a community of Ghouls, just a smarter form of Zombies in her opinion. She rounds the building to the front gate and lets herself in, leaving the gate unsafely unlatched so Walkers may follow her inside; she’s greeted by an older woman, smiling invitingly as she stands in front of a sizzling grill.

“Welcome to Terminus,” she greets. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Sorry, I don’t do cannibalism,” MJ refuses. Before the woman can respond MJ’s Angel Blade slides into her hand and she quickly decapitates the woman without a second thought; she stabs the head for good measure before swiftly moving on to the next. She manages fifteen kills before she hears voices and shuffles quietly up next to a doorway to listen.

“I said, what’s your count?” the lead Ghouls hums demandingly.

“Um…” another Ghoul answers dumbly.

A heavy sigh, “Just go up and count it when you’re done here,” the lead Ghoul scoffs.

MJ steps in the open doorway, Angel Blade hidden. “Interesting operation you’ve got going here.”

The lead Ghoul is wearing a male in his mid-to-late twenties with a sinister look on his face as he turns to regard MJ with a raised eyebrow. “Who are you?”

Glen’s shoulders slump in relief as he sees her; Rick and Daryl wiggle in their bonds, both looking just as happy to see her.

“I’m a guest; ain’t it proper to introduce yourself first?” MJ asks with a haughty air. She moves into the room, strolling closer to the trough the seven men are bent over; “These men do something bad to you?” she queries.

The lead Ghoul pulls a gun out of the back of his pants and points it at her.

She just smiles at him. “You know, this isn’t smart; it draws unwanted attention.”

“Does it?” he chirps in a humoring tone.

“It always does,” she tells him. “When Ghouls go off their regular diet.”

The lead Ghoul pauses a moment before chuckling, “Well look at that, we’ve got ourselves a Hunter.”

“I don’t get it; in this day and age your regular diet will just walk right up to you, why make it harder on yourselves?”

“Because meat is always better fresh.” He smirks, “And you’re not very smart, coming here alone.” He chuckles as he pulls the trigger.

MJ’s head snaps back from the trajectory, she even wobbles back a step from the force, but it doesn’t do much more than that; she cracks her neck and rolls her shoulders as the three Ghouls, and the four living humans, gape at her. Though she has a nickel-sized hole in her forehead just above her left eyebrow, she’s completely unfazed by the wound as she grins wickedly at the Ghouls. “I’m not just a Hunter, I’m a Winchester and I’m not human,” she slides her bloody Angel Blade into her hand threateningly.

The Ghouls gag on the scent of their fallen brethren on her blade and each take a cautious step back; the Ghoul with the metal bat drops his weapon with a loud clang and tries to make a run for it. A quick flap of her wings puts her in his path, her blade slicing through his neck like a hot knife through butter.   

Chapter Text

They’re raiding houses in a small neighborhood for food, supplies, and possible shelter that can hold all of them and they haven’t really seen any Walkers; they’re not sure if that’s worrisome or not.

When they round a corner into a cul-de-sac there’s one Walker standing in the circle; its back is facing them, listing to one side as it sways slightly in place.

Rick shakes his head. “It’s just one; leave it,” he mutters.

MJ inhales sharply when it whips around, charging them as soon as it spots them.

“Shit!” Daryl yells; he swings his crossbow up and fires. They’re all fearful and amazed when the ‘Walker’ dodges to the side to avoid the arrow and continues charging at them.

“That’s not a Walker! Run!” MJ yells urgently, pushing the others and putting herself between them and it.

With a roaring hiss it pounces on her just as her Angel Blade slides into her hand; it clatters noisily on the pavement as she hits the ground, the blade rolling just out of reach. She keeps her forearm across its throat as it tears at her; its eyes are wild and opaque, and it’s practically foaming at the mouth as it roars in her face.

“MJ!” Carl yells in a panic.

“No!” she yells back, grabbing hold of it as it lurches on top of her, intent on the other people present that it momentarily forgot about. “Back off!”

They hesitate, but when Carl makes a move towards her Rick wraps his arm around his son’s waist and backtracks; the others reluctantly follow suit though they don’t go far.

With its alternate prey too far out of reach it focuses back on MJ, twisting its head to the side to try and bite her arm; without having to hold it back from lunging at the others she takes her other hand and slaps it on the monster’s forehead, using her Grace to kill it. It slumps limply against her; its empty, burned out eye sockets staring at nothing. She shoves it off with a grunt just as the others scramble back over.

Daryl kicks the limp body before leaning over and stabbing the corpse in the head for good measure. “What the fuck was that?”

“A Croat,” she answers in exasperation, scooping up her Angel Blade.

“Further explanation is needed, please,” Michonne frowns.

“We have to get out of here first; these things usually travel in packs.” She grumbles as she climbs to her feet.

“Shouldn’t we do something?” Glen asks.

“These things aren’t like Walkers who are just out for food; some Croats may eat you, but most just want to pass on the infection,” she explains. “And trust me, it’s advanced because they don’t start out looking like they blend in with Walkers; we have to get out of here.”

Chapter Text

It’s an average day at the prison; everyone is going about their daily chores and for once there are no supply runs needed.

Rick, Daryl, and Michonne are just inside the gates taking inventory on their weapons, Tyreese and Sasha are thinning the Walkers around the perimeter, Bob sits in the watch-tower, Carol and Beth are mending clothing, MJ and Carl are tending the animals and the garden, while Maggie, Glen, Hershel and the others are inside going about their own business.

Suddenly, Bob leans out of the watch-tower and yells to the yard that there are cars approaching fast; no one manages to move fast enough.

The Governor pulls up with two armored trucks and about a dozen men; they’re all firing wildly into the prison before the vehicles have pulled to a complete stop.

Everyone at the prison scrambles for cover as the bullets start flying; but Rick watches like it’s all happening in slow motion. He watches as the Governor aims his gun, but doesn’t fire it wildly like his men, he carefully eyes the yard like he’s looking for a special target; in the garden where they’d ducked down in the tall crops Carl jumps to his feet and makes a run for the make-shift barn that houses their gathered livestock. He watches as the Governor catches sight of the preteen, a smirk quirking his lips as he takes aim; “Carl!” Rick yells in alarm, Daryl grabs his arm and holds him back from escaping their cover.

Despite all the gunfire around him, he hears the Governor’s shot like it’s the only one; he watches as at the same time that shot goes off, MJ tackles Carl to the ground and shields his body with her own. He breathes a sigh of relief and doesn’t worry about them a second longer; his happy exhale bringing the slow-motion to an end as bullets wing past him in his hiding place.

Finally, less than two minutes later, the two trucks drive off with a bit of cover fire; it’s all over almost as quickly as it started.

Rick does a quick visual scan; there are a few scratches, most are shaken, but no one seems badly injured. Hershel hobbles out of the prison to check on everyone; Glen and Maggie are already outside having hurried out to help amidst the gunfire.

“Is everyone okay?” Hershel asks as he makes his way towards Rick.

“Yea, I think we’re good.” Rick nods back. He finally turns toward the yard to see MJ and Carl still motionless on the ground; MJ curled protectively over his son’s body. He approaches them, unhurried, with Daryl on his heels. “Carl, you okay?” he calls.

“Yea, just bruised,” Carl’s muffled voice answers, wiggling beneath MJ.

“It’s all clear now,” Rick assures as he reaches them just as Carl finally gets free; MJ lies on her side. Despite Carl’s assurances, he still pats the boy down for injuries.

“Dad, I’m fine,” the boy grumbles, swatting weakly at him.

“MJ?” Daryl murmurs cautiously; he kneels down behind her and reaches out, brushing the hair from her face and freezing at the sight.

Her eyes are closed, and her face is slack as if she were asleep, but just above her right eyebrow is a hole the size of a silver dollar coin; the wound is frayed around the edges, but otherwise it’s a clean-looking exit wound.

Daryl wraps his arm around her shoulders and lifts her to cradle in his lap; his other hand gingerly feels around the back of her head until he finds the dime-sized entrance wound at the base of her skull behind her left ear. He looks up at Rick, feeling helpless.

Rick is holding a wide-eyed Carl to his chest, looking at MJ with the same look of hopelessness on his own face.

“No!” Carl yells, jerking in his father’s grasp.

Rick clings tightly to his son, like he’s looking for support more for himself, eyes shining.

“MJ?” Beth calls; Hershel, Maggie, Glen, Carol, and Michonne all approaching cautiously like they’re afraid. Beth collapses on her knees next to Rick, opposite Daryl, and sniffles loudly; she reaches out and curls her fingers around MJ’s limp hand. “She can’t…we haven’t found her family yet and she was so sure,” she mutters weakly.

They’re all quiet, like a silent vigil, until Rick finally clears his throat, though his voice still comes out sounding strained. “We have to, uh…Carol, would you take Carl inside please?”

“Rick and I’ll take care of it,” Daryl croaks out; he shuffles a bit until he can slide his free arm under MJ’s knees and lifts her up, rising to his feet.

Carol and Glen flank Carl, while Maggie and Hershel do the same for Beth, and they head inside at a sedate pace.

“I’ll cover the fences,” Michonne mumbles sadly before turning to relieve Sasha and Tyreese, sending them inside with the others.

Rick reluctantly goes to get the shovels while Daryl heads over to their mini-graveyard; he gingerly lays her in the overgrown grass before shuffling over a few feet and waiting for Rick.

While they work in silence the sun starts to set and Rick pauses to lean on his shovel and frown at the sunset; sensing Rick wants to talk, Daryl stops shoveling as well and waits.

“The Governor was aiming for Carl,” he states simply, voice croaking.

Daryl nods his head, “That’s how she is…was,” he grunts. “Everybody else comes first.”

Rick nods sadly in agreement.

“She knew, just like any of us do, that your kids come first,” Daryl tells him. “MJ’s favorite thing in the world was family; she told me once, ‘family don’t end in blood, and family always comes first’.”

“Sounds about right, especially in a world like this,” he agrees, gesturing at the Walkers clawing at the fences.

They fall into silence, lost in their own thoughts.

“You know, there’s a couple of us in this group that I just can’t see us losing all that easily,” Daryl announces. “I thought she was one of ‘em.”

“I did too.”

After another beat of silence they mutually start digging again.

Neither of them noticed that while they worked the wound in MJ’s forehead slowly shrunk and healed, neither noticed when she started to breathe again, and neither of them noticed when she started to move.

They both noticed when she let out a groan like someone waking with a hangover.

They watched, cautiously, as her face scrunched in pain and her eyes finally fluttered open; dumbfounded in shock that her eyes were still a bright, clear blue and not the milky opaque of a turned-Walker. They’re doubly surprised when she speaks.

“Shit, that hurts.”

“MJ?”Rick calls cautiously, both men holding their shovels like weapons.

She rolls her head to the side to look at them and frowns, before what she’s seeing registers; the two men standing waist-deep in a grave with shovels held up like weapons at-the-ready. She slowly sits up, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’ve got some things I need to explain.”

“We’re listening,” Michonne says as she comes up behind the men in the half-dug grave, her sword drawn.

MJ takes a deep breath before she begins. “There are more than just Zombies out there; even before all this happened there’s been more out there than anyone was aware of. All those stories about monsters and mythical creatures…every story starts with a grain of truth; even Heaven and Hell, Angels and Demons, God and the Devil.” She shrugs a little helplessly, not good at having to explain these things to people who haven’t had some supernatural encounter to help them believe. “There is a small community of people called ‘Hunters’ who know about the supernatural and spend their entire lives making a career out of hunting and killing those creatures, specifically the ones out to harm humans. Rick, as an officer did you ever have a case that didn’t make sense?”

Rick pauses to think before nodding. “There was a famous case around the precinct about a string of murders that looked like animal attacks, except for their missing hearts; a couple feds came in and a few days later the murders stopped and the feds disappeared.”

“Those feds were Hunters, and the murderer was a werewolf.” She bobs her head. “Not all supernatural creatures are evil, but most are.”

“Where’s God in all this shit?” Michonne scoffs.

“MIA,” she shrugs. “Truthfully Angels are mostly douche-bags that couldn’t care less about humanity, the key word there being ‘mostly’; there are a couple good ones.”

“What are you?” Daryl asks.

“I’m called a ‘Nephilim’; I’m half human, half Angel of the Lord.”

“There’s more than one kind of Angel?” Michonne asks.

“Well, there’s Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones of Ophanim, Dominions of Lordships, Virtues of Strongholds, Powers of Authorities, Principalities of Rulers, Archangels, and Angels.”

The three seemed at a loss of anything to say; finally Rick shuffles a bit and blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “So, those Feds weren’t Feds?”

“No, they were Hunters,” she assured. “Do you remember anything about them? Maybe I know them,” she shrugged.

“I didn’t really deal much with them myself but they did leave a bit of an impression,” Rick admits, now leaning on his shovel instead of wielding it like a weapon. “I remember they were both over six feet. They were both attractive because the women around the station were fawning over them long after they’d gone; and Shane complained about the ‘pretty one’ for weeks after, apparently the guy was real cocky and said something to set Shane off.”

MJ bites her lip, trying to hide an amused smile.

“Someone you know, I take it?” Rick asks.

“My dad and my uncle,” she says with a huff of laughter. “My dad is the cocky, pretty one.”

“I believe that.” Daryl snorts in agreement.

Chapter Text

MJ has been debating about what to do with the Governor since they first crossed paths; she’s always known he was a loose cannon waiting to go off. The final straw is when Maggie and Glen are kidnapped; while the others pile around a make-shift map to plan out their assault with Michonne’s help, MJ plans to take matters into her own hands.

Of course, she gets halfway to the gate and Carl stops her.

“Where are you going? It’ll be dark soon,” he points out with a frown. “Aren’t you going with my dad and the others to save Maggie and Glen?”

MJ shakes her head. “I’m gonna do some hunting; I’m feeling antsy.”

“I can go with you,” he offers a little too eagerly.

“Stay here and protect Judy; I won’t be too long.”

Finally the younger boy nods his consent and lets her go; following her to secure the gate behind her. She’s a little unnerved that he watches her until she’s out of sight, but lets it go; as soon as she’s clear she flaps her wings and lands just inside the Woodbury gates, thankful she got a good look at Michonne’s map before heading out.

She follows some soldiers into a secure brick building, down to the basement, and tucks into a dark corner to watch.

Merle marches past her, looking troubled and disgruntled; there’s yelling and a lot of scuffling sounds coming from the room he just exited.

The soldiers are crowded around the other door like they’re watching a peep-show, making MJ narrow her eyes in suspicion.

Five minutes later the Governor and the soldiers leave, snickering amongst themselves; two soldiers stay behind to guard the doors.

MJ slips silently from the shadows of her hiding place, slinking up behind the first guard and with a simple touch he drops in unconsciousness; the other guard jumps at the sound of his colleague hitting the floor, but has little-to-no time to react as MJ scoops up the downed man’s rifle and bashes him in the face with the butt of it.

She scoffs at the ease and opens up the door Merle had vacated; she finds Glen standing in the middle of the room panting for breath as a dead Walker lies on the ground.

“Mozel tov,” she chirps; he jerks at the sound of her voice, spinning around to face her with a defensive stance. “Down, Short Round.” She smirks in amusement.

He huffs. “We have to get Maggie,” he barks.

“Slow your roll; she’s next door.” She shoves the rifle into his hands and turns to the other door; they find Maggie clutching her shirt as she huddles in the furthest corner.

“Maggie,” Glen sighs in relief. They hug tightly, gratefully reunited.

“What happened to you?” Maggie asks as she gingerly touches his bruised eye.

“Merle.” He snorts in disgust.

“Hey, party poppers and reunion sex later, we have to get out of here.” MJ snaps at them even as she riffles through the pockets of the two downed guards for weapons for the two. She hands two pistols and their spare ammo to Maggie, as well as the extra magazine for the rifle to Glen; each of them also gets a large hunting knife. “Nobody is going to be a hero, understand? I got in silently, that’s exactly how we’re going to leave, comprende?”

The two nod, much more eager to leave than to get themselves killed trying to exact some revenge.

“Are Rick and the others waiting somewhere for us?” Glen asks.

MJ scrunches her nose, positive plenty of people are going to have ‘words’ with her about her actions. “They don’t know I’m here; they’re still at the prison planning out your extraction.”

“MJ,” Maggie starts in a reprimanding tone.

“Not now, okay?” MJ waves her off, “Let’s get out of here.”

They quietly follow her lead, ducking this way and that out of sight; finally MJ get’s them to the fence where they’ll make their final escape and they’re startled by yelling back by the town square.

“They’ve escaped, find them!” the Governor’s voice booms after them.

“Wait, what about Andrea?” Maggie whispers suddenly.

“Son of a Bitch,” MJ swears. “I’ll get her, you two get back to the prison.”

“But…”

“Go, damn it!” MJ shoves Glen over the fence first; he lands with an ‘oomph’, luckily there are no Walkers around. Maggie frowns at MJ one last time before following her fiancé over the fence.

MJ waits until they disappear into the surrounding woods, in the direction of the prison, before turning back into Woodbury to search for Andrea.

She finds the Governor’s place despite the soldiers scrambling around; she curls her lip at the wall of fish tanks with decaying heads inside, all of them moving. “Cue the Twilight Zone music,” she mutters. She finds a small girl-Walker chained in the wall; she puts her out of her misery with her Angel Blade to the girl’s head.

She finds Andrea in the basement, in a similar predicament she found Glen in, but she wasn’t as lucky as the Korean man as she has a bite mark on her shoulder.

“Hey,” Andrea smiles weakly at her, panting in exertion.

Frowning, MJ pulls the gun from the back of her waist band and shows it to her; “You or me?”

“I’ll do it,” Andrea nods, struggling to sit up better.

MJ hands her the gun, watches as she puts it to her temple, and pulls the trigger with an echoing bang. She scoops up the gun, clicks the safety back on, tucks it back in her waistband, and heads back out.

She finds Merle first; he’s leaning against a building, staring at his new ‘hand’ and brooding. With a simple touch to his arm she sends him out of Woodbury; she plans to obliterate the town and, though she’s not fond of Merle as a person, she doesn’t want to be the one to kill Daryl’s brother.

The Governor stands on a small stage in the center of town, looking like a dictator as he surveys his men scurrying about looking for their escaped hostages; she heads straight for him at a leisurely pace.

She waves with a mocking smile when he spots her. “What up, eye-patch?”

“Well, look what we have here,” he chuckles with a wave of his hand.

She’s unheeded by the soldiers so she hops up on the small stage with the Governor and smiles politely at him. “Howdy, stranger; I’m here to put an end to this,” she glances up at the slowly setting sun. “Preferably before dark; it’s scary out there at night, don’t cha know?”

“All by yourself?” he scoffs.

MJ hums, “Yup; got my people out just so I could deal with you unworried for their safety.”

A shot is fired and MJ’s head snaps to the side; there’s a moment of silence as she lists to the side before she shakes it off. “Please don’t do that.” She mutters at the soldier who shot her, his eyes wide as he stares back at her.

“You…” the Governor takes an unsteady step back as she cocks her head curiously at him; the bullet hole in her temple mending before his eyes.

“I am a messenger from God,” she states, her eyes lighting up with Grace as the shadows of her wings light against the ground behind her. “You have sinned, Philip Blake; you shall pay for your misdeeds. But do not worry; you shall not be going alone.”

With that her Grace bursts forth in a blinding white light, enveloping every last inch of Woodbury. When the light dissipates the inhabitants of the once-thriving town lay about as empty husks, their eyes burned out and their brains melted to nothing; there’s no worry they’ll reanimate as Walkers.

Heaving a sigh she flaps her wings and lands just outside the Woodbury barrier and starts heading for the prison.

About an hour after dark has fallen there’s movement in the woods ahead of her and a moment later Rick is pointing his pistol at her; he sighs in relief a moment later.

Rick envelopes her in a hug, happy to see her in one piece.

“Are you outta yer damn mind?” Daryl snaps, standing on Rick’s left.

Rick finally releases her from the hug only to hold her at arm’s length. “Daryl’s right; you could have gotten yourself killed. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she rolls her eyes. “Glen and Maggie are fine, everybody is fine.”

“You are not fine,” Rick snaps in his best fatherly tone. “Don’t you ever do something like this again.”

“Where’s Andrea?” Maggie chirps.

MJ shakes her head. “By the time I found her it was too late; the Governor locked her in a room with a Walker and it took a chunk out of her before she managed to kill it.”

Rick runs a hand over his face and sighs. “You go back to the prison; we’re going to take care of this…”

“There’s nothing to take care of; the Governor is dead and so are his men,” she mutters as she shakes free from Rick’s hold, suddenly feeling like she doesn’t want to be touched. “Merle got out safe,” she tells Daryl who only nods with a frown.

“I need to see it with my own eyes!” Maggie demands in a stressed voice.

“See it in the morning when there’s better light, his body isn’t going anywhere.” MJ scoffs uncaringly. She shuffles around all of them before continuing back to the prison; she at least wants a chance to pack her things before they see what she’s done and lynch-mob her.

Daryl marches up behind her and grabs her in a hug; she squeaks, startled.

“Double D?” she questions softly.

“No matter what you done, we ain’t gonna judge you,” he mutters into her hair. “We ain’t gonna abandon you, and we ain’t gonna chase you off.”

“Daryl’s right,” Rick agrees in a soft voice, crouching in front of her and holding her hands gently in his. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of to protect our people; whatever you’ve done, the Governor was a bad person and he needed to be put down.”

“And the rest of the people in Woodbury?” she asks quietly.

Rick responds after a beat of silent thought. “We can’t trust any of them, there’s no telling where their loyalties lie.”

“It hasn’t been that long, how could you have dispatched the entire town anyway?” Glen pipes up in a tone that’s meant to be comforting.

MJ wriggles in Daryl’s arms, wanting to get free, but both Daryl and Rick stubbornly refuse to let her go; huffing a sigh she rolls her eyes at them. “Will you let me get my shit before you run me out?”

“We’re not going to run you out.” Rick assures her.

She gives him a look that says ‘Really?’ and huffs again. “Even when I tell you I’m not human?”

Chapter Text

MJ is on watch when she sees two men walking towards the prison fences; she narrows her eyes, wondering which of the Governor’s men they are, but when she recognizes them she tumbles out of her chair. Scrambling to her feet she hurries out of the tower, sending a confused Bob up to take her place.

“But where are you going?” Bob mutters even as he climbs the stairs up to the tower.

“I have to take care of something, just take over for me,” she snaps at him. She slips out the front gate and sneaks through the woods until she’s behind the two men.

“We know you’re there,” the dirty blonde man hums; he arches an eyebrow as he glances over his shoulder at her.

The other man, slightly shorter and with dark hair and a haughty look on his face, scowls at her like she’s beneath them. “It is an abomination, brother.” He scoffs.

“I can see that,” the blond man agrees.

“Oh shove it up your asses,” MJ snarls, Angel Blade at the ready. “What the fuck are you two doing topside?”

“The way we understand it, Metatron set us free with his little spell.” The blond man smirks.

MJ curses the non-present Angel, “I knew that douche-bag got the spell wrong.” She glances at the two men cryptically before dropping her defensive stance and smirking at them. “You two are human.”

“To an extent,” the blond huffs; “That doesn’t mean we’re no threat.”

MJ snorts and rolls her eyes, putting away her blade. “Put your silver tongue away, Uncle Luci, I’m not scared of you.” She folds her arms over her chest and leans back against a tree. “And Uncle Mike, your high-horse ran away a long time ago; get the stick out of your ass and join the rest of us on planet ‘Free Will’.”

“You impudent little abomination,” Michael growls; the only thing that stops him is Lucifer’s hand on his arm.

“You were right about that ‘to an extent’ remark; take a gander,” she offers with a wave of her hand. “I’ve got Grandpa’s personal seal of approval.”

The two Archangels eye her cryptically a moment before Michael looks livid and Lucifer looks interested.

“Who are your parents?” Lucifer asks with an air of interested curiosity.

“I’m MJ Winchester,” she tells them with caution, wondering what kind of reaction that would get her.

“A Winchester?” Lucifer’s eyes light with interest; Michael looks just as interested.

“Yea and your interest makes me paranoid,” she tells them honestly; her Angel Blade slides back into her hand and she takes out an approaching Walker with a scowl.

When she turns back both men are directly in front of her; Lucifer gently cradles her chin in his fingers and Michael runs a finger through her hair.

“Well the eyes don’t give it away,” Lucifer murmurs as he tips her head up to get a better look at her face.

“Nor the hair,” Michael murmurs; “They both have this medium brown color with light highlights.”

Lucifer tisks, “Look at the lips and the freckles; she’s yours.” But he doesn’t let go of her. “Which Angel do you suppose mothered this one?”

“The way I understand it, that fledgling was quite proud of his work restoring my true vessel,” Michael hums, still eyeing her features critically.

“Castiel,” Lucifer offers in answer.

“Can I have my face back?” MJ grumbles.

Finally they release her; Michael looking like a proud father and Lucifer looking intrigued.

“How is Sam doing?”

“You’re really curious?” she scoffs. “You two broke him in the cage.”

“We were bored and he put us there,” Lucifer shrugs uncaringly. “We vented our frustrations.”

“Well he’s got Nephilim kids too,” MJ tells him.

“With whom?” he wonders with narrowed eyes.

“Uncle Gabe; Grandpa brought him back because he tried to help Dad and Uncle Sammy stop you two.” She grins mockingly at them. “See, the moral of the story is ‘Winchester good, you guys stupid’.”

“Well, you’re certainly Dean’s daughter,” Lucifer huffs, though he looks amused.

“Listen, as grand as this family reunion is, I am the only one here,” she explains. “I got separated from my family a few months back so you have to go; you can’t stay here.”

“We’re not leaving,” Lucifer shakes his head.

“You’re the first family we’ve come across,” Michael tells her.

“Then how’d you get your info?”

“It wasn’t like this when we were first hurled topside; it took some time to get like this.” Lucifer explains.

“Besides, we’ve reformed; we want to help the Winchesters fix this,” Michael adds. “Assuming that’s their plan.”

“Yea; saving the world, the usual.” She shrugs, “I still can’t have you here; I’m with a group of humans that know nothing of the supernatural.”

“We’re not leaving; we go where you go.” Lucifer tells her with finality.

MJ grits her teeth at their stubbornness but reluctantly makes a decision; as much as she’d love to stay with Rick and the others to continue watching over them she can’t have these two particular uncles hanging around them, it wouldn’t be safe, so she has to leave with them instead.

“Stay here, I’ll go get my stuff.” She demands before spinning on her heel and heading back into the prison, happy when they don’t try to follow her.

Rick and the prison’s ‘council’ are sitting in the tall grass relaxing together for once; Carl, Beth, and Judith are there as well while the adults seem to be talking about the crops they have and the supplies they’ll need on the next run.

Daryl squints into the sun as she approaches them with determination. “Ain’t you supposed to be on watch?” he asks.

“Hey MJ,” Beth smiles up at her as she cuddles Judith in her lap.

Carl gives her a jerked nod in greeting as he shakes a rattle in his baby sister’s face.

“I love you too, Double D,” MJ smirks mockingly at the archer before turning her slightly nervous attention on Rick (because no matter what system is in place they all know Rick is ultimately in charge). “I have to leave,” she blurts in a rush.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Daryl scoffs as if she told a bad joke.

Rick frowns and motions her closer, taking her hands and gently pulling her down to sit between himself and Daryl. “What’s going on?” he asks her in a gentle fatherly tone.

“I have to leave,” she says again like a mantra.

“Is this about finding your family?” Carol asks.

“Kind of; I just can’t stay here.”

“Who were those men you were talking to in the woods?” Hershel asks.

“The Governor’s men?” Maggie asks with a tinge of paranoia and suspicion in her voice.

MJ shakes her head, “Technically speaking they’re my uncles.”

“Well that’s great news, sweetheart!” Carol chirps; but then she seems to notice MJ’s downtrodden appearance and frowns. “That’s not good news?”

MJ heaves a sigh. “I come from a large family; a lot of the members of my family aren’t blood, those are the ones we like,” she smirks in humor. “My papa comes from a really big family; lots of brothers and sisters, and I mean lots.” She insists. “There are only a select few of them we like and trust, those two are not on that list; nowhere near it in fact.”

“And you want to go off with them?” Rick asks incredulously before shaking his head, “No way.”

“They’re no danger to me; it’s people they’re a danger to.” She explains. “They’re trying to get on my good side so they won’t outright attack anyone; but they’re more likely to stand by and watch a Walker take a bite out of you and then mock you for it then watch your back.”

“You can’t tell them to leave?” Hershel asks.

“Stubborn runs strong in both sides of my family; they won’t go anywhere without me.”

The group all silently exchange looks until they’re all looking to Rick for the ultimate decision; he looks to Daryl and after a moment their silent communication seems to come to an understanding.

“Let them in.”

“No, you don’t understand how dangerous they are…”

“We’ll cover each other like we always have and we’ll keep an eye on them; it will be fine.” Rick assures her.

MJ lets out a reluctant grunt, “I’ve been keeping a really big secret from you guys.”

They all frown at the seemingly abrupt change of subject.

Chapter Text

Beth is standing in the hallway, shifting uncomfortably under the stern gaze of Officer Dawn and the lecherous gaze of Officer Gorman; Dr. Edwards stands on her left, Noah on her right.

“We all do our parts here, Beth,” Dawn says sternly. “This is for the greater good.”

“Lady, I can smell your pile of shit from the other side of the damn city,” a voice scoffs down the hall; footsteps echoing in the hallowed halls with it like a soundtrack in a horror movie.

When the owner of the voice steps out of the partial shadows of the hall Beth’s eyes light up and she bounces on her heels once before rushing forward, throwing her arms around the other teen.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” Dawn snaps in alarm, glancing around to see if this new girl let any of the undead in with her.

“You got any stuff?” MJ asks Beth instead, completely ignoring the others in the area as if they aren’t there.

“No,” Beth shakes her head, unable to wipe the ecstatic smile off her face. “I’m so happy to see you.”

MJ reaches for the blonde’s face with a frown, gingerly touching the scratch on her cheek. “Don’t be too happy; haven’t been able to shake my fan club,” she mutters.

“I’m even happy to see them,” Beth laughs.

“I asked you a question,” Dawn demands as she marches up to the two girls, her expression livid.

Gorman happily sidles up beside her, lecherously eyeing both girls now.

“I heard you, I just don’t care.” MJ tells her with a bored expression. “I don’t talk to kidnappers.”

“We saved her,” Dawn grits out.

“That twitchy hand of yours comes near either of us and you’re going to lose it,” MJ warns her with narrowed eyes. “Beth is able bodied; she’s up and around and she knows she’s got people out there,” MJ says calmly. “So the only reason she’d still be here is if you were keeping her here; that makes you kidnappers.”

“We saved her from Rotters,” Dawn insists like it’s the only thing that matters. “We saved her, gave her medical care, food, clothes, and shelter; she owes us.”

“Typical humans,” Lucifer’s voice echoes down the hall in an amused scoff; he and Michael stand leisurely at the other end of the hall, leaning against the locked double doors that lead to the elevator shaft. “No such thing as doing something out of the goodness of your hearts; everything comes with a price.”

“She’s exactly what’s wrong with humanity,” Michael hums in agreement. “It’s humans like her that are the reason this species failed and continues to crumble.”

“It’s humans like her that are the reason the remains of this pitiful species are killing each other,” Lucifer adds.

“Says the dude who started a war,” MJ points out. “Though he’s right; who are you to decide who has meaning and who doesn’t?” she asks, tucking Beth behind her. “Welcome to the Zombie Apocalypse, sweetheart; your shiny badge and your freshly pressed uniform don’t mean jack-shit here.”

“We’re saving lives,” Dawn starts to say through clenched teeth, hands white-knuckled on her utility belt.

“What a grand society you’ve got going; it’s been a year since this all started and you have four cops, a doctor, and two kids who don’t want to be here,” she smirks mockingly. “You’re awesome,” she gives the woman a mocking thumbs up. “Beth is part of my people; she’s family, so she’s leaving with us.”

“She owes us her life,” Gorman pipes up, taking a threatening step forward.

“Do you not see the two dudes at the end of the hall?” MJ asks, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “Back off, pedo-slime; or you’re going to have sausage for your next meal,” she threatens.

“Tiny sausage, I’ll bet,” Lucifer chuckles mockingly. “She’s becoming my favorite, even if she’s one of yours.” He tells Michael.

MJ resists the urge to roll her eyes at them.

“Noah is coming with us,” Beth demands. “He’s been here a year, he’s paid back his debt plenty.”

MJ nods and motions the other teen over; he hobbles a wide circle around the adults until he too is safely tucked behind MJ as well.

“Go,” MJ says with a slight jerk of her head.

Beth nods and grabs Noah’s arm to lead him back to the double doors where Michael and Lucifer stand; she throws a glance over her shoulder at Dr. Edwards but she doesn’t trust him enough to extend the invitation of escape to him as well.

“Much obliged,” MJ tips an invisible hat mockingly at them before turning on her heel to leave.

She feels Gorman reach for her, but doesn’t flinch because she sees Lucifer already moving; she turns her head leisurely to see Lucifer holding the lecherous man against the wall by his neck, Gorman’s face already turning red.

Dawn quickly pulls her gun and aims it at the back of Lucifer’s head. “Put him down! Do it now!” she demands in a bark as Dr. Edwards backs away from the conflict.

MJ chuckles, “You pull that trigger and you’re only going to piss him off.”

“I’ll kill him,” Dawn insists, gun trembling in her hands a bit.

“Did you notice when he insistently called you ‘human’ and when he spoke of ‘humanity’ like it was a cockroach?” MJ drawls. “I’d like you to meet my uncle, his name is Lucifer.”

Lucifer turns to stare Dawn down with his eyes glowing eerily with Grace; the shadows of his tattered, still-healing wings lighting the hallways.

“The Lucifer,” she adds.

Chapter Text

“Guys, there’s somebody coming up the road.” Tara calls; while the others are fussing over Eugene and Abraham is having his mental meltdown she’s been keeping watch, because somebody has to.

It’s a single person, luckily not moving like a Walker, coming up the road the way they came; she can’t see much detail, but she knows it’s a girl and she’s possibly in her late teens.

Abraham doesn’t move from where he’s kneeling on the side of the road; she doesn’t know if he’s mentally conscious enough to register the possible threat, or if he just doesn’t care.

Glen stands, leaving Eugene to Maggie and Rosita; he raises his riffle and shuffles over so he can see past the stalled fire truck. After a moment of studying the approaching figure for threats he lowers his weapon and blinks dumbly.

Tara, watching him to follow his lead, frowns in confusion.

“Maggie,” Glen calls weakly. “Maggie,” he calls again when she doesn’t answer.

“What?” Maggie answers with a little snap.

“It’s MJ,” Glen replies breathlessly, a smile starting to bloom on his face.

Maggie scrambles to her feet and nearly plows into Glen to see around the fire truck and see for herself; she grins ecstatically, a happy laugh bubbling out of her throat. “MJ!” she calls, “Help!”

The figure breaks into a run.

“Oh,” MJ slows to a stop when she reaches the back of the fire truck, a hand over her nose and mouth and the other waving in the air. “Who ripped one?”

“Come here, we’ve got a man down,” Maggie waves her closer.

MJ trots forward and rounds the front of the truck, instantly kneeling beside Eugene.

“He got punched in the face a couple times,” Glen explains.

“Is that all? Wuss,” MJ scoffs in his face before touching two fingers to his forehead.

Eugene’s eyes roll and he lets out a wheeze and a cough before blinking dumbly up at the sky.

MJ rises to her feet and glances up the road, raising an eyebrow at what she sees. “Who started the Walker farm?”

“We don’t know, haven’t gotten any closer than this,” Glen explains.

Maggie pounces on the younger girl, wrapping her arms around her and clinging to her desperately. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to? And what the Hell happened?” MJ huffs but doesn’t push her away. “I go out on a damn hunt and come back to find anarchy! Everybody’s gone and there are trails leading every-which-way…”

“The Governor attacked,” Glen explains solemnly. “He took Hershel and Michonne captive and tried to use them as leverage; when Rick tried to reason with him he killed Hershel, knocked down the fences, and attacked. We all got separated.”

“I-I was with him,” Tara murmurs, shuffling uncomfortably. “I didn’t know what he was.”

“And what’s all this?” MJ asks gesturing at the other people around them.

“We met up with Rick and the others at Terminus,” Maggie starts.

“You went to Terminus!” MJ yelps in surprise. “Wow, I put way too much faith in you people,” she scoffs. “Those signs might as well read ‘Come To Your Death, We’ll Kill You For Free!’ I mean, if they don’t scream ‘It’s a Trap!’ I don’t know what does.”

Glen huffs. “Seems you and Daryl are the only ones lacking faith in humanity at this point; he only went because he met up with Rick, Carl and Michonne and that’s where they were headed.” He shrugs, “I get the impression Rick only went because he figured he might find the rest of us there.”

“That’s my Rickyl,” MJ grins in satisfaction.

“Rickyl?” Glen wonders, looking to Maggie for answers; she only giggles into MJ’s hair in response.

“Anyway, we blew Terminus and ended up in a church; Rick and the others stayed behind because Daryl and Carol ran off somewhere, they’ll join us once the others return.” Glen shuffles a little uncomfortably. “We were headed to D.C.”

“I lied to them,” Eugene pipes up from where he’s seated on the ground. “I told them I was a scientist and I had a cure for all this, they just needed to get me to D.C.” he explains. “I figured it was safest there, but I’m not strong enough on my own; too scared to even kill one of those things, can’t fire a gun proper.” He scoffs at himself, shaking his head.

“The first clue was the mullet; don’t matter the state or the function, no facility would allow that haircut,” she chirps. “Business in the front, party in the back,” she grins in approval at him. “Chin up, chunky.”

“People died protecting me,” Eugene mutters in a pleading voice.

“Everybody dies protecting something in this world, that’s how it’s been since even before the Zombie apocalypse,” she tells him in a reprimanding tone. “Welcome to reality, where immortality is a myth and everybody dies, just like everybody poops.”

Abraham appears on the other side of the truck, head bowed and fists clenched. “They didn’t have to die; if we hadn’t been following a false lead in the first place,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

“False or not, they died protecting someone, how dare you spit on their memories.”

“He didn’t deserve to be protected!” Abraham shouts.

“Who the hell are you to judge anyone’s worth in this world?”

Chapter Text

Not long after meeting Noah, Beth meets another boy in the hospital wing; his name is Markus. Markus in the same age as Carl, with a similar stubborn attitude; he’s got shaggy, dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes. She’s not quite sure what he does; he’s pretty good at avoiding the people in uniform and at first she wonders if they even know he’s there, but then one day she hears Officer Gorman barking his name down the hall.

Markus is almost like a shut in, the way he skitters around and avoids the others, but then she realizes, after watching him a bit, it’s not that he’s shy or afraid, it’s that he doesn’t trust any of them; the only one’s he gets within arm’s reach of are herself and Noah.

One day, after Dr. Edwards dismisses her she finds Markus sitting in her room, on her bed, twirling a green lollipop in his fingers; he offers it to her as soon as she gets close enough.

“Officer Creep stole yours,” he mutters in explanation. “I got others if ya want a different flavor.”

She smiles sweetly at him, glad she shut the door behind her when she entered; she sits on the bed beside him. “Is there a blue one?”

He nods, digging in his pockets with the loud crinkle of plastic; he pulls out two fistfuls of cheap lollipops and dumps them on the bed between them. He picks out the first blue one he sees and offers it to her, “Blue Raspberry.”

Instead of saving it like the first one she quickly unwraps it and pops it in her mouth.

He unwraps a red one for himself before stuffing the others back in his pockets.

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

Markus snorts. “I’d like to see ‘em catch me.”

It’s not long after this that the three teenagers make an escape; Markus steals a gun for himself and a gun for Beth, and a long pipe for Noah as a weapon against the Walkers, he’s also smart enough to steal a flashlight to get them through the basement.

She knows their gunshots in the basement alert the adults so she knows they have to move fast once they make it outside. Their ears are ringing from firing the guns in enclosed spaces but they plow on.

Beth’s plan is to make a run for it and take their chances in the Walker infested city; she knows Rick’s group made it through a few times before making it to her family’s farmhouse. What she doesn’t expect when they stumble out into the sunlight is to see MJ standing in the middle of the parking lot gaping at them.

MJ shakes it off before she does and dives for one of the cars, waving them over; Beth doesn’t hesitate and the boys follow without question.

“MJ, I’m so happy to see you,” Beth cheers; she knows she shouted it but the ringing in her ears makes her own voice sound distant.

“Get in the car!” MJ demands as the vehicle roars to life.

Beth ends up in the passenger’s seat while the boys climb in the back.

With a squeal of tires the car jerks back out of its parking space; MJ cranks the wheel and wrenches the gear shift, the car protesting the rough treatment with a groan, and as the car lurches forward three uniformed cops hop into their path with guns pointed at them.

“Seriously?” MJ scowls.

“They kidnapped us and have been holding us prisoner since,” Beth says, not sure why she was saying it.

Gorman is dead center and makes a show of cocking his pistol.

“Bitch please,” MJ scoffs. She grins meanly, and Gorman has a nanosecond to register why before she floors the gas pedal; the other two officers manage to dive out of the way but Gorman goes up and over with a clattering rumble as he rolls over the length of the car.

The gates slam open with a clatter and a terrified yelp from Beth.

“That was awesome,” Markus gasps from the backseat, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“Um, this is my friend MJ,” Beth introduces a little breathlessly. “This is Noah and Markus.”

MJ bobs her head, squinting into the rearview mirror at them. “Hey squirt, what’s your last name?”

Markus narrows his eyes at her. “Reed,” he answers slowly.

“Reed…?” she wonders as if there’s more.

“Reed-Dixon,” he mumbles finally.

Beth gasps, hand clapping over her mouth, she looks at MJ with wide eyes for answers; the brunette is smiling smugly.

“Thought so,” MJ nods. “Stick with us kid; we got a surprise for ya.”

MJ drives them out of the city and onto the woodsy back roads like where Beth had been taken from in the first place.

Noah had shared his story of how he’d ended up in the hospital wing with the doctor and the small assembly of crazed cops; he and his father had been in an accident and they had saved him, leaving his ‘too injured’ father behind. “They just knew he’d fight back when they tried to keep us there,” he mutters morosely.

“What about you, kid?” MJ asks.

“They saved me and my mom from a herd,” Markus explains. “Only reason we got cornered was ‘cause my mom was injured back at our house before we got to the city; looters trashed our house, tried to take us, but my mom chased ‘em off with a shotgun. The doc took a look at her, but he said she had internal bleeding he couldn’t do nothin’ about…she was at the bottom of that pile in the elevator shaft.”

“We’ll get the others, go back, and kill them,” MJ assures, brow furrowed in anger.

“Others?” Beth asks cautiously.

“Our original group all got out; Maggie and Glen are fine.”

“Oh, thank God,” the blond girl gasps. “What about Judith?”

“Yup; saw Rick swaying with her.”

Beth closes her eyes with a soft smile gracing her face, before something occurs to her; “Wait, you ‘saw’ them?”

MJ just nods. “When I saw you were missing I decided to find you first; no use dragging everyone around aimlessly while I look for you.”

Beth takes this answer without complaint and relaxes into her seat.

“Um, we’ve got a tail,” Markus points out.

MJ glances in the rearview mirror with a scowl. “Everybody buckle up and hang on.”

Chapter Text

They’ve invaded Woodbury to save their people; they managed to collect Maggie and Glen, but lost Daryl and MJ along the way.

Rick has just finished threatening Michonne over them losing the two when they hear the roar of the crowd and the Governor’s voice struggling to be heard over the noise.

They watch as Daryl is shoved into the ring with Merle, the older man’s loyalties questioned; MJ has a dark hood over her head, arms bound behind her, and held in place by the Governor’s right hand, Carlos.

The Woodbury residents cheer for blood to be spilled as Daryl and Merle circle each other, Daryl’s eyes constantly darting over to check on MJ.

Merle lunges and the two brothers beat on each other, obviously a ploy if their exchanged glances are anything to go by.

While the crowd is distracted by the show, even more so when a few of the Governor’s men drag in Walkers on catchpoles, no one is really paying attention to MJ, not even the man holding on to her.

MJ feigns shuffling her weight from one foot to the other when really her foot is carefully drawing back; in a quick succession of movements MJ hooks her foot around Carlos’ ankle and drags it back, kicks the back of his knee, hip checks him, and then slams her shoulder into his, effectively knocking him on his ass. She ducks her head and rolls into a somersault, bringing her cuffed hands from her back to her front and rips the hood off her head; someone grabs at her and she throws her elbow into his nose harshly before ducking into a sweep and knocking the man off his feet.

Carlos grabs her, and she lets him, dragging her back out of the circle as the Dixon brothers fight off the Walkers being shoved in their faces.

The Governor throws a reprimanding glance over his shoulder; “I said watch her!”

“I got it; sorry,” Carlos grumbles crossly, holding her around the waist.

As soon as the Governor refocuses his attention on the ring MJ bring her feet up, Carlos is standing with his feet apart for balance while he holds her off the ground, a mistake, as she hooks her feet behind his knees and jerks them forward at the same time she throws her head back; his knees buckle and he lets out a yelp as his nose breaks with a sickening crack.

Everyone is too engrossed in the fight to notice, even the Governor standing less than five feet away.

As soon as they hit the ground MJ rolls off the man, lurches to her feet, and jumps on the Governor’s back; she throws her cuffed arms over his neck, pulling tight while she hooks her legs around his waist to tightly anchor herself to him. “Now!” she shouts as the Governor flails and struggles, grasping futilely at the metal pressed harshly over his windpipe.

That’s when anarchy erupts.

Rick and his group jumping into action, at the same time the Dixon brothers stop faking and start fighting back.

The Governor collects himself enough to force MJ’s legs off his waist before jerking forward to toss her up and over his head; she’s expecting it, her feet hitting the ground hard, she tries to twist to face him but he has a hold of the link in the cuffs between her hands and with a jerk she hits the ground.

When he goes to lean over her, her body lurches for force, swinging her legs up to hit him in the face with both feet; she drops her legs and rolls into him so her back is to his chest and their hands are in front of both of them. She then throws her body back into his and with force and leverage tumbles him over her head this time; as his back hits the ground he releases her bound hands.

“MJ!” someone calls, a male voice, calling her attention to the retreat of her people.

She turns towards them, seeing the whole Prison group plus Merle in the shadows making a retreat over the fence as most of Woodbury burns around them. Rick and Daryl are waving her over; Glen and Maggie watching her with wide eyes, waiting for her to join them and grinning at her previous actions with the Governor.

MJ takes a step towards them, body coiled to break into a run towards them; she doesn’t see the Governor climb to his feet, pulling a gun off a nearby downed soldier, and point it at her.

None of them notice until it’s too late; none of them notice until the shot rings out.

“No!” they all scream.

Daryl jolts forward, intent on going to her, but Rick grabs him, hugging around his shoulders. Rick closes his eyes and presses his forehead to the back of Daryl’s head, mourning briefly, before he bodily drags the archer toward their escape; Daryl fights him the whole way and it takes both Rick and Merle manhandling him to get him out of Woodbury. Once they’re over the fence Daryl reluctantly stops fighting and hurries away from Woodbury with the rest of them; Rick keeps a hand on him the whole way anyway.

When day starts to break they’re a safe enough distance away to stop and relax a bit.

Daryl marches up to the first car he sees and starts punching it, roaring angrily the whole way.

Maggie lets out a choked sob and curls up next to the fender of their awaiting Hyundai, Glen gently curls around her for comfort.

“What’s goin’ on?” Merle snaps irritably, confused.

Daryl whirls on him and punches him across the face, knocking him to the ground with one hit; he lunges like he’s going to land on him and start wailing on him but Rick grabs hold of him again; arms going around his chest, Rick drops his head against Daryl’s shoulder.

“Daryl stop,” Rick murmurs, voice sounding tired and worn.

“She was worth a thousand of you,” Daryl says darkly. “Screw blood; if I could do it over again I’d throw you to the Governor and a herd a’ damn Walkers to save her.” He kicks Merle’s leg, the only part of the older man he can reach. “Rick was focused on Maggie and Glen, MJ was the only one willing to help me get you!”

“It ain’t his fault, Daryl,” Rick mutters in a ‘you know that’ sort of way.

Merle, for once in his life, keeps his mouth shut.

“Let’s go home.” Rick announces, slowly easing his hold on Daryl in case the man decides to lunge at his brother again.

“He is not coming with us!” Glen demands as he points at Merle.

“This is not up for debate,” Rick says sternly in his best ‘leader’ voice. “We are all going back to the prison; and because none of us trust Merle, we’ll lock him in a cell and keep an eye on him.”

Merle grumbles but doesn’t outright object to the plans and they all grudgingly climb into the vehicles and head back to the prison to give everyone else the good, and the bad, news.

Chapter Text

Tara leaves with Abraham, Eugene and Rosita; they’re insistent there’s something, help, in D.C. Rick’s group isn’t so sure; they’ve seen the broken shell that is Atlanta.

Tara goes with them because despite what they may say, she knows Rick’s group doesn’t trust her; and she still has hope, she wants to believe in Eugene.

“So what now?” Maggie asks, still clinging to her recently returned little sister.

“We find somewhere else to settle down,” Glen shrugs.

“We might as well have followed them; broken off on our own as soon as we find somewhere good.” Sasha huffs, staring after the long disappeared bus the small group had taken off in.

“I have somewhere we can go,” MJ pipes up with a frown marring her face.

“Ya don’ look happy about it,” Daryl observes.

MJ shrugs. “I was hoping we’d have run into my family by now but it’s been a year,” she scoffs and shakes her head; “A whole year. So I figure we can go back to the bunker and wait for them there; they won’t give up looking for me, but maybe, after so much time, they’ll check to see if I’ve finally gone home to wait for them.”

Rick nods.

She sees the resigned, almost downtrodden look on his face and smirks at him. “I did say ‘we’; you guys are coming with me. I trust you guys, you’re family.”

“Is there room for all of us?” Rick asks, “And what will the rest of your family say?”

“My family is cool; weird, but cool,” she chuckles; “And there is plenty of room. The bunker is set up in the woods near a dam and there’s a supernatural barrier set up so you can’t find it unless you know it’s there, not even the Walkers. There’s plenty of room for everybody to have their own room if they wanted it; there’s also food, electricity, and hot, running water.”

“Sold!” Maggie cheers and several people laugh.

“If you’re sure?” Rick asks cautiously; when he receives an assured nod from MJ he glances around at the others to see they’re all in agreement. “Then let’s go.”

A happy cheer erupts from the group and MJ laughs. “All right, group hug!” she calls. Once they all crowd together, packing in tightly, she glances around at them all; “Is everyone touching someone else?” When she receives a chorus of agreeable noises she nods in approval. “Brace for the head rush,” she warns before grabbing hold of the two people nearest her, Rick and Carol, before transporting them all with a flap of wings.

When the group realizes the scenery has changed they all slowly unpeel from their huddle and look around, finding themselves in a stone-walled building with a more welcoming feel than the prison ever did. There’s a short set of three-tiered stairs in front of them that leads into a large room set up like an old library; stuffed-full bookshelves line the walls and long tables surrounded by chairs with classic green lamps line the center of the room.

“Old school,” Carl mutters.

MJ shuffles herself to the front of the group and looks around to see if she spots anyone. “The lights are on, that means someone’s here,” she mutters. “Weapons down,” she adds when she hears a few of them rustle their weapons.

There’s a pitter-patter of small feet hurrying towards them followed by a reprimanding male’s voice. “Don’t run towards it! I said to go hide in your room while I check it out!”

MJ’s eyes light up, “Uncle Gabe!”

“Shit,” the voice swears. “MJ?” Gabriel scrambles into sight, doesn’t look twice at the group with her, and plows straight into her; he scoops her up and twirls her around happily. He drops her back to her feet and grabs her face between his hands, “Thank Dad you’re okay. You’re mom has been driving us all nuts; been extra clingy ever since you disappeared, smothering your brother and sisters.”

MJ laughs happily.

“Cassie!” he suddenly yells into the bowels of the building. “MJ is back and she brought friends!” he flashes a quick grin at the group; “Oh, hey Bela!”

“I knew it was you,” MJ grumbles. “And she goes by Maggie now.”

“I don’t sign my work like Cassie does,” Gabe says agreeably.

“Thank you,” Maggie says with a shake of her head.

Castiel comes hurriedly into the room and automatically grabs MJ and smothers her in a desperate hug.

Gabriel shakes his head at them before turning back to the group. “I’ll get you folks settled real quick and then I’ll go get the boys.”

“Balthazar or Charlie can show them around; you should go get Sam and Dean.” Castiel’s deep, gravelly voice rumbles into the crown of MJ’s head.

Chapter Text

“Well I thought I heard familiar voices.”

They all whip around, guns poised for attack, before the face that goes with the voice registers and they lower their weapons in awe.

MJ stands by the entrance to the empty warehouse, stance slack in confident ease and a sniper rifle strapped to her back; she’s a little dirtier, her clothes a little more worn and torn in places, but she’s got a lazy grin lighting her dirt smudged face.

Rick starts marching towards her first, his bow-legged strides eating the distance quickly despite being the furthest from her; he wraps his arms around her gratefully, a relieved sigh he hadn’t known he’d been holding all this time releasing with a happy huff. “I’m so happy to see you’re all right,” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“C’mon Officer Friendly, don’t get too chick-flicky on me,” she mutters teasingly into his chest, but she’s holding him back just as tightly.

Finally he releases her and she automatically turns into a waiting Daryl.

“Double D, you switched to mud baths?” she chirps as his mud-black hands wrap around her. “Worryin’ about your pores in the middle of the damn Apocalypse?”

“Speak fer yourself, dust bunny,” he mutters back good-naturedly, stirring up a cloud of dirt off her as he pats her shoulder.

When they finally separate she waves at Sasha and Tyreese before taking a glance around the warehouse, specifically eyeing Noah and the three captive cops. “What’s all this then?”

“You’ve got perfect timing,” Rick tells her, he then explains the situation to her; how Beth is being held prisoner, and now they have an injured Carol on top of things.

“Tell me the layout, I’ll go get ‘em,” MJ nods.

Noah starts to shake his head but it’s the female cop that pipes up with a scoff.

“You’ll never get in there by yourself; and your friend Carol is comatose, how do you expect to get her out?”

Noah shakes his head again, “She’s right; Beth and I left together and I only barely got out because she distracted the Rotters and the cops that came after us. They’re armed, and there are a lot of them; you’ll never get in there by yourself.”

MJ just smirks at him. “You must be new,” she says mysteriously before turning to look at Rick expectantly; “The layout?”

Rick walks over to where he’s drawn out the floor plan in the dirt. “They’re on the fifth floor of the hospital,” he explains, telling her about the guards and the wards and anything else that may help her along the way. “Watch out for Officer Dawn,” he tells her seriously.

“Which one is Beth’s room?”

Noah shuffles over and points it out reluctantly. “This is suicide,” he mutters.

“You’re just turning it into a three-person recovery mission instead of two,” the female officer scoffs haughtily at them.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” MJ tells them as she moves over by the windows where the three captive officers can all see her. “Hey, eyes forward,” she calls; when they’re all looking at her, even Noah, she grins at them. “It’s cute that you think zombies are the extent of it,” she winks, and with a rustle of feathers, she’s gone.

“Showoff,” Daryl snorts.

“W-What the hell was that?” Noah gasps pointing at the empty space MJ occupied mere seconds ago.

“Our Guardian Angel,” Rick answers, his lips quirked in amusement.

“You gonna freak out ‘bout it, I’m ‘a tie you down too.” Daryl threatens.

Noah gulps, and sinks to the ground against one of the beams, wide-eyed but silent.

MJ lands in Beth’s empty room, though the door is propped open she landed around a corner out of sight and breathes a little sigh of relief at that. She hears footsteps and tucks herself tighter around the corner, further out of sight.

“Beth,” a male voice calls a bit down the hall. The soft footsteps stop and some slightly heavier ones approach at a small jog before coming to a stop, presumable in front of Beth. “How is the woman in two?”

“Still unconscious, but she’s made it this far; she’s strong.” Beth’s soft voice answers.

“Yea, I hope you’re right,” the male voice murmurs back; after a moment’s pause of awkward silence, his footsteps recede.

Beth turns into her room and closes the door behind her with a haggard sigh.

“Tough day at work?” MJ chirps softly as she peeks around the corner with a grin.

Beth’s eyes go wide in surprise before she lurches forward and wraps her arms around the brown haired girl happily.

MJ returns the squeeze before pulling away and looking at the blonde girl seriously, she frowns momentarily at the scratches marring her face and then at the cast on her wrist.

“M-Most of this is from when they saved me from Walkers,” she explains, worrying her good hand over the cast before pointing to the scratch on her cheek, “This is from when Dawn slapped me.”

Scowling unhappily at this news she reaches up and presses two fingers against Beth’s forehead, healing all of the blonde’s wounds and removing the now-useless cast. “Let’s go get Carol and get out of here now.”

Beth nods, a happy grin taking over her face. “She’s in room two, her door is closed.”

“Perfect, where’s room two?”

“The other end of the hall, same side of the hall, third room from the end,” Beth explains.

“Take this,” MJ murmurs as she hands her a 9mm with an attached silencer and a spare clip. “Can you use that all right? The silencer adds a bit of weight,” she explains.

“No, this is good.” Beth shakes her head, tucking the spare clip in one of her front pockets.

“Need to grab anything?”

“Just Carol,” she assures.

MJ places her hand on the blonde girl’s hip and flaps her wings, landing in Carol’s room beside the unconscious woman’s bed; she automatically places her hand on the older woman’s forehead, it takes a couple seconds longer than healing Beth had, but a moment later Carol’s eyes are fluttering open.

“Did I miss anything? Any aches or pains?” MJ asks with a soft voice and an encouraging smile.

Carol shakes her head as she sits up, “Daryl…”

“He’s fine, just waitin’ on us like the Mother Hen he likes to pretend he ain’t,” she grins teasingly at the redneck’s expense.

“Footsteps,” Beth warns in a harsh whisper as she listens at the door.

“Let’s go,” MJ waves the young girl closer as Carol climbs to her feet. The door starts to silently open, Beth’s gun poised expertly in defense, but as soon as MJ’s hand touches her they’re gone in a flutter of wings; they land in the open warehouse, greeted by happy sighs of relief.

Beth drops the gun just in time for Daryl to wrap his arms around her, grateful to see her again; the relief hits her too, and she ends up crying into his chest as she clings back to him just as desperately.

Rick wraps his arms gratefully around Carol, murmuring a quiet ‘Good to see you’.

They all tense as a door slams open at the other end of the warehouse and two men barge in, weapons drawn but pointed at the ground; both men are over six feet and obviously both fit and combat trained.

MJ isn’t at all fazed as she grins and waves to them, “Daddy, Uncle Sammy, I found them!” she chirps excitedly like a little kid talking about Disney World.

Both men sigh in relief and sheath their weapons. “Darlin’, we just found you, don’t run off like that; I’m not losing you for another year,” the shorter of the two says in reprimand as he approaches.

“Too damn happy to care,” MJ grins, a happy laugh bubbling out of her throat.

Beth sniffles as she finally pulls away from Daryl, “You found your family?” she asks with happy, wide-eyed awe.

MJ bobs her head, “The original, and the new,” she grins brightly as she flicks her eyes around Rick and his people.

“We’ve got more people waiting outside of town,” Rick assures both MJ and Beth.

“I’m Dean and this is my brother Sam; thank you for taking care of my daughter all this time.” MJ’s father says gratefully as he extends his hand to Rick.

Rick shakes both of their hands happily. “More than happy to,” he assures. “I’m Rick; that’s Daryl, Beth, Tyreese, Sasha, and this is Carol.”

MJ notices the three cops are eyeing them, like they’re memorizing their names and faces, and tisks at them. “You think you get to remember any of this?” she asks teasingly.

Sam marches over and frowns at the three captive cops. “You’re not going to leave them here, are you?”

“Nah; gonna stick ‘em in the ringleader’s office for her to find at her convenience.” MJ shrugs.

“They’ll come after us,” Noah murmurs worriedly.

Dean shakes his head. “We’ll be long gone,” he assures without elaborating.

Chapter Text

Maggie keeps letting out bursts of agonized screams as she and Daryl hover over her little sister’s prone body; Daryl’s face is pinched and his head is bowed. Glen holds Maggie as she rocks violently in her grief while the others stand around looking lost; Rick holds in his own grief to watch his people’s backs as they all grieve.

A figure trots into view a distance away and Rick’s hand tenses on his gun, prepared to pull it, when he notices the figure isn’t moving like a Walker; when he squints he recognizes the figure in the distance as it turns to move in the opposite direction of them, hope blooms in his chest. “MJ!” he screams, frantic and relieved in so many ways.

She whips around to face him as several of their group jerk at the mention of her. She points at them, talking to someone Rick can’t see, and then she disappears, reappearing in front of Rick with a rustle of feathers.

“Beth,” Rick says simply jerking his head toward the blond girl’s limp body.

Daryl and Maggie look up imploringly at her, hope filling both their eyes.

“Shit,” MJ swears; she suddenly whips around and points at Rick, “My dad and my Uncle are right behind me, don’t shoot them.” She warns before shuffling around Daryl and dropping to her knees beside him where he still cradles Beth in his lap. She places one hand over each wound, the entrance under Beth’s chin and the exit at the top of her head, closes her eyes and concentrates; the others all watch with bated breath as the warm glow of her Grace outshines the sight of the wounds.

Rick’s attention is averted at the sound of footsteps and he glances up to see two men, both over six feet, approaching them with weapons lowered; Rick can see some of MJ’s features in the shorter of the two, assumes this is her father, and gives the two men a welcoming nod.

They all watch as the glowing of MJ’s hands slowly dims and she gently pulls her hands away, revealing missing wounds and unblemished flesh, even the two scratches on Beth’s face are gone, not a scar left behind. A moment of frayed nerves, clenched teeth, and bated breath, and Beth’s chest starts to rise and fall with a tiny shudder; a moment after that her eyes flutter open.

Maggie lets out a sobbed cry of relief and pounces on her sister, wrapping her in her arms and babbling into her tangled blond hair; Daryl gives a little laugh of relief and wraps his arms around MJ, she happily clings back to him.

“What was that?” Abraham asks cautiously, looking to Rick for answers.

“I thought your group knew about MJ?” The taller of the men, MJ’s Uncle, asks, cocking his head.

“They’re new,” Rick shrugs. “MJ was a part of our group almost from the beginning,” he explains to Abraham and the other confused faces. “She’s not completely human.”

“Welcome to the real world where Zombies are the least of your worries.” MJ’s father shrugs. “And you shoot my daughter, I will kill you,” he warns with narrowed eyes as Abraham’s hands twitch on his weapon.

“Daddy, be nice.” MJ reprimands as she pries herself from Daryl’s grip. “I’m God’s granddaughter,” she announces seriously.

“Can you trust all these people, Darlin’?” her father asks.

MJ looks to Rick, who in turn looks to Glen, who’s spent more time with Abraham’s crew; Glen nods and after a moment Beth vouches for Noah.

“Let’s go home then,” her Uncle shrugs.

“I’m Dean and this is Sam, by the way,” MJ’s father announces, shaking Rick’s hand in delayed greeting.

“Home?” Rick asks.

“MJ says you people are family,” Dean answers as if that’s all that needs to be said.

“Completely safe with food, electricity, hot running water, and real beds,” MJ bounces excitedly in place.

Dean nods in assurance. “We’ve got enough room for everyone to have their own room; queen beds for the adults, fulls for the kids, and we’ve got cribs too.”

“And there are a couple full-blooded Angels on the premises so no one goes hungry and there’s no real need to go on runs,” Sam adds. “Though we understand how some people can go stir-crazy staying in one place so nobody is locked in, you’re free to come and go as you need.”

Chapter Text

The shuffling of grass and the crunch of gravel are eerily loud, they even seemed to overpower the sounds of surrounding wildlife; the chirping crickets and frogs, the buzz of flying insects, and the distant call of some birds. A few heavy pants of breath break the near silence, footsteps drawing to a stop with an abrupt scuff of gravel; she closes her eyes, holds her breath, and listens.

She smiles faintly to herself, happy that for once she’s actually alone; she makes her way off the deserted train tracks, heads a few feet into the woods, picks a sturdy tree, and climbs. The first eight feet of the tree are bare, making it difficult to climb, but she manages it; she climbs the jungle-gym of branches another thirteen feet before settling on a thick branch solid enough to hold her weight comfortably. There’s another branch even with her head when she settles her back against the tree trunk and she rests her head against it to save herself an uncomfortable crick in her neck later; stretching her legs out in front of her and folding her hands in her lap, she finally closes her eyes for some very much needed sleep.

She wakes six hours later, two hours shy of what she needs to be fully energized for another week without sleep; she glances down to see six zombies clawing at the bottom of her tree and frowns. “I’m up-wind, how did you fuckers find me?” she grumbles irritably under her breath. She’s not sure what woke her at first, then the zombies turn all in one direction and an arrow slices straight into one of their skulls’ dropping that one quickly.

She follows the trajectory back to a small group of people made up of men, women, and children; they’re all dirty and tired looking, and also severely battle-worn. She watches as they work like a well-oiled machine to take out the other five zombies without using any guns.

The biker with the crossbow has wings on the back of his vest, and it makes her smile, even as he retrieves his used arrows from the downed corpses. Then he turns his head up toward her, squinting at her; she blinks a little dumbly before slowly raising her hands to show she isn’t holding a weapon, she soon has the entire group looking up at her.

The leader of the group, a man with dark curly hair and beard, wearing a black jacket with wool lapels frowns at her. “They chase you up there?”

“No, don’t know how they found me up here.” she answers.

“You alone, sweetheart?” a woman with short gray hair asks.

“Yea; got separated from my family,” she tells her.

“Hope you’re not headed to terminus,” the biker harrumphs.

“Not that stupid, and neither is my family.” She scoffs. “Those signs basically say ‘come to your death: by humans instead of zombies’.”

“Smart girl,” a stocky redheaded male snorts.

“You can join us if you like; there’s safety in numbers.” The leader offers. “I’m Rick, this is my son Carl and my daughter Judith, this is Daryl, that’s Carol, Glenn and his wife Maggie, that’s Michonne, Tyreese and his sister Sasha, Bob, Tara, Rosita, Eugene, and Abraham.”

“MJ,” she offers politely before turning to climb her way down. She drops the last eight feet and lands on her feet in a crouch next to Daryl. “Which way are you guys headed?” she asks as she straightens.

“The end game is D.C.” Abraham answers.

“But ultimately we’d like to find the last member of our group before heading that way,” Rick mutters with a meaningful look at the redhead.

“Why D.C. if I may ask?”

“Eugene here has the cure for all this,” Abraham claps the chunky guy with the mullet on the shoulder proudly.

MJ frowns, but doesn’t voice her opinion.

They quickly troupe back onto the tracks and continue moving; MJ stays at the front with Rick and Daryl, she’s not stupid enough to think they fully trust her.

“Where’d you lose your family?” Carol asks, making polite conversation.

“In the woods; couldn’t say where for sure, GPS is useless now-a-days.” MJ shrugs.

“When did it happen?” Maggie asks.

MJ frowns in thought, not at her question, but there’s something about Maggie that bugs her. “Maybe a month, maybe a little longer,” she turns to glance at Maggie over her shoulder and catches Judith’s eye; she grins and makes a face, causing the baby to giggle happily and wave a fist at her. MJ smiles sadly at the baby.

“Siblings?” Carol smiles.

“And cousins,” she nods.

Chapter Text

Nicholas had shoved the revolving door enough to wedge his foot into the opening, and despite Glen and Noah yelling at him from the other side of the door, he concentrated on trying to escape himself. He completely missed the newcomer until his toe was harshly kicked and he tumbled back into the enclosure; luckily his enclosure doesn’t budge backwards to feed him to the Walkers inside the building.

He blinks and looks up into the bright blue eyes of an eighteen-year-old girl who’s scowling at him as she holds the door steady.

“MJ?” Glen gapes dumbly at the teen.

“Miss me, Short Round?” She flashes him a cheeky smirk. “I’ll barricade the Pussy,” she looks Nicholas in the eyes with a staying look. “He makes a wrong move and I’ll feed him to karma.”

“Right,” Glen nods numbly, mind still reeling from the teen’s reappearance. “Noah, help me break this glass.”

Noah nods hurriedly and together they use the butts of their guns, handgun and rifle alike, to hammer the glass; it takes half a dozen hits from each of them to even crack the glass.

“Oh for fucks sake,” MJ grumbles; she checks over her shoulder for any incoming Walkers before yanking a hatchet from the back of her belt and swinging it. It embeds in the glass, sending out a spider-web of cracks that encompass a good section of the window.

A couple more good hits from Noah and Glen finally break the glass and the two climb free.

“I know it’s been said before, and it will probably be said again, but I have never been so happy to see you.” Glen grins a little crookedly, still huffing in exertion.

“Of course you are,” MJ chirps proudly. She finally steps back from the revolving door, watching detachedly as Nicholas struggles a moment before finally pushing the door open enough to stumble free.

While MJ takes a two-by-four, from seemingly nowhere, and secures the revolving door however temporarily, Glen catches Nicholas with a harsh right hook and drops him in the process.

“Where’d you pick up the Pussy and how is he still alive?” MJ asks.

“We joined a community, they recruited us,” Glen explains.

“Are they all chicken-shit?” she asks, gesturing to Nicholas’ out-cold form.

“I’m starting to wonder,” Glen huffed with a roll of his eyes. “They’re definitely sheltered; the main reason they recruited us was because we know how to survive out here.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” MJ mutters.

Glen jerks his chin at the prone form, “He already got one person killed because he was too scared to stick around and help.” He shakes his head, “Son of the town leader and I’m going to make sure she knows how all of this went down.”

“If she doesn’t banish him we can always Old Yeller his ass on the next supply run,” she snorts in dry amusement, “Pull a Shane.”

Glen nods in agreement. “Noah, you cover us; MJ, help me drag this idiot to the car.”

MJ quietly curses at the unconscious man as she grabs his feet and helps Glen haul the man towards their stationary tan van.

The driver’s door opens and Eugene climbs out hurriedly to open the back for them.

“I’ll drive; Noah, you cover him, MJ, would you help Tara?”

“Sure.” MJ agrees as they all climb in and Glen starts up the van and pulls away from the building. “What happened to her? Chicken-shit?”

“Aiden was firing at a Walker in full combat gear, we didn’t notice the grenades on its vest until it was too late,” Glen explains. “The blast threw Aiden back and he was impaled on some broken metal shelving; Tara was knocked into some shelving and hit her head pretty bad.”

“Has she regained consciousness at all?”

“No,” Eugene answers.

MJ nods absently as she places her hand on the makeshift bandage wrapped around the woman’s head; Glen is the only one of this group who knows MJ’s secret so she shields the healing shine of her Grace with her body, healing Tara only just enough to take her out of danger. “She might have a concussion when she wakes, but she’ll make it;” she assures them as she does a cursory check of the woman’s pupils.

“This is Eugene and Noah, guys this is MJ; she was with us almost since the beginning.”

“Yea, about that; why’d you leave Georgia?” MJ asks, sounding both exacerbated and scolding.

“Sorry, but when the Governor attacked the prison we all got separated; we were lucky we found who we did and we’ve still lost people since. Eugene said there would be safety in DC and he was right.” Glen shrugged.

“First of all, you are about twenty minutes shy of DC, and second, Atlanta wasn’t safe why would DC be an improvement?”

“Well, why did you head north?” Glen asks with no other answer for her question.

“You guys are family, I followed your trail,” she answers in a ‘duh’ sort of tone.

Glen is silent for a while, both touched at her words and guilty that none of them tried to look for her.

Nickolas groans, but before his eyes can flutter open MJ kicks him in the head and sends him back to sleep.

“We lost Bob, Tyreese, and Beth.” Glen states solemnly.

The rest of the drive goes by in silence.

Chapter Text

It was a rather quiet day; Michonne, Daryl, MJ, Tyreese and Sasha we’re on perimeter control to thin the crowds at the fences while Maggie and Glen sat in the watch-tower. Rick, Carol, and Carl were working in the garden and with the animals they’ve collected while Beth sits in the nearby grass with Judith enjoying the sun.

“Cars!” Glen yells down from the watch-tower suddenly.

Beth scoops up Judith and runs back toward the prison to get inside for cover; Carl follows her to cover her back; everyone else prepares for an attack.

Three dusty cars roll down the dirt path leading to the front gates; luckily they didn’t look like anything the Governor would come armed in. Taking up the rear of the pack is a blue mini-van that sounds like the engine has been modified for speed, in front of that is a newer black Charger, but leading the pack is a sleek black nineteen-sixty-seven Impala; the train of cars stop a few feet from the gate and look like they’re about to turn around when MJ comes running at the gate.

She slams into the gate and bangs on it frantically to get the head driver’s attention.

The driver’s door of the Impala is thrown open with a creak and a handsome man in worn jeans and a blue plaid button up pops out of the vehicle. “MJ?”

“Daddy!” she cheers excitedly. She throws a quick glance over her shoulder at Rick as he comes up behind her for permission; he gives a curt nod and she starts opening the gate.

The three cars pull in quickly so they can slam the gate closed behind them before any Walkers follow them in.

As soon as the cars pull to a stop the Impala’s driver’s door swings back open and the man jumps out, rushing to meet MJ and wrapping his arms around her in a desperate hug; one arm around her back while the other hand cradles the back of her head.

The rest of the vehicles doors start popping open and people start climbing out; none with weapons at the ready.

The back doors of the Impala omit four kids, three girls of the ages twelve, seven, and three and a boy of nine; they instantly pile on MJ and the man she called ‘Daddy’, crying her name excitedly. The dark haired man in a tan trench coat who climbs out of the passenger’s seat rounds the car at a sedate pace and stands back to watch them with a content smile on his face.

Out of the Charger comes a tall man with lengthy brown hair and another, shorter male with slicked back hair; the man with the slicked back hair climbs in the backseat and reemerges with a female infant about Judith’s age, another girl and boy of the ages eight and five respectively tumble out after him and instantly cling to the tall man’s legs.

Out of the Mini-van comes a red haired girl in her early twenties, an Asian boy in his late teens, and an older male who was slimly built with dirty blond hair; two young boys of fifteen and eleven climb out of the sliding side-door behind the older male.

“Kevin is still alive!” MJ laughs jokingly, squatted down in a big hug with the four kids from the Impala.

“Wha- Why do you say that?” the Asian boy sputters.

“Dude, you’re totally our black guy in this horror movie;” the short man with the infant on his hip scoffs.

“Daddy, that’s Rick.” MJ can’t wipe the happy grin off her face as she jerks her head towards Rick.

“Dean,” he tells him as he shakes Rick’s hand. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

“Don’t mention it; your daughter has saved our butts more times than I can count.” Rick assures him. “We’ve got room if you’d like to stay?” he offers.

“We actually came here with that intention, didn’t realize the prison was already occupied; we were about to pull away and find someplace else when I saw MJ.” Dean explains. “Sammy, come here.” Dean calls.

The tall man with a kid attached to each leg waddles closer with some difficulty, pausing only momentarily to pat MJ on the head as he passes; he shakes Rick’s hand as well.

“This is my younger brother Sam.” Dean introduces.

“And these are my kids Beth and Robbie,” Sam huffs down at the kids on his legs who only giggle up at him in response.

“Dog-pile on MJ!” the short man calls, causing the two kids to release Sam’s legs and scurry over to join the pile of children forming on top of MJ.

Chapter Text

Rick is down on his knees, face and hair slick with blood, and revolver in his hand keeping the crowd at bay as he shouts; he’s staring down Deanna but he’s speaking loud enough for the small crowd to hear his message.

Carl hears the pounding of feet on the pavement and turns to see that not only are Daryl and Aaron back, but they’ve got two new people with them; his eyes widen when he realizes one of the new people is MJ and she’s heading the charge.

“Rick!” MJ calls as she gets within a few steps of the outer ring of onlookers.

Rick turns, gun swinging with him, but he barely turns halfway before MJ plows into him; her arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand coming up to cushion his cheek before it slams into the pavement, her hips twist mid-air and she jerks her leg out, kicking the gun from his hand and sending it skittering across the road to stop at Michonne’s feet. As soon as the gun is clear from Rick’s hand MJ drops the rest of her weight onto his back; the hand she’d used to protect his face from the harsh cement pulls free so she can press her forearm across the back of his neck.

There’s a stunned silence as everyone pants to catch their breath.

“Hey there, Officer Friendly; you cool?” MJ asks in a friendly tone.

Rick shuffles slightly so he’s laid out like a perp under her; feet shoulder-width apart with toes pointed into the ground, arms out away from his body and bent to ninety degrees at the elbow, palms flat against the ground. “Yea,” he croaks out, as if the levity of the situation is finally registering with him.

“All right; you wanna tell me what happened?” MJ questions reasonably.

Rick murmurs quietly to her about Pete hitting his wife because it’s not his place to announce Jessie’s problems to the entire town.

“He attacked me!” Pete yells, air wheezing out of his bloody nose.

“Shush, Drunky, I wasn’t asking your opinion.” MJ snorts dismissively at the man. “And Dude, it’s like two o’clock in the afternoon, why do you reek of cheap beer already?”

Pete just scowls at her.

“Okay Rick, here’s what we’re going to do,” she says announces calmly. “You are going to go with Daryl and Carl to get cleaned up and patched up and take a damn nap, understand? And to ease your mind a bit we’re going to lock Drunky in an inescapable room until we can come up with a reasonable, unanimous way to deal with him; cool?”

“Yes.”

“I need you to repeat it back to me Rick.”

“I’m going to go with Daryl and Carl, clean up, and clear my head.” Rick responds.

“Good man,” MJ pats his shoulder and finally climbs to her feet.

Daryl approaches and helps Rick to his feet, giving a nod to Carl and the boy moves to flank his father’s other side.

Rick pauses a moment to hug MJ and kiss the crown of her head, “We missed you; it’s good to see you.” He pulls away and allows his son and Daryl lead him away in a sad imitation of a frog-march.

“Michonne, you got Drunky?” MJ asks.

Michonne nods, motioning to Rosita and Aaron to help her.

“Cole, can you go with them too?” she jerks her chin at the stranger who’d been standing back behind Aaron and assessing the situation.

“Just like yer daddy,” the man shakes his head with an amused smile but follows Aaron and the two women.

The teen finally turns to Deanna and her family, marching closer and standing before the woman with her hands at her side in a non-threatening manner. “You must be Deanna?”

“I am,” the older woman agrees, chin held high.

“I’m MJ and I am a naturally blunt person so I’m just going to say this outright,” she explains; “You suck as a leader. You knew about this, but like a typical weak-willed woman you stood back and hoped it would go away on its own. You’re probably thinking the answer is exile, but you’d be wrong; we’ve tried that before a few times, sometimes you’re lucky, but human beings are naturally spiteful and one of these times you’re going to exile the wrong person and it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass.”

Deanna opens her mouth, to object by the look on her face, but MJ hold up a hand and shakes her head.

“You think we haven’t tried to settle down before? If Rick’s group wanted to be out there, they would be; Walkers didn’t stop us from settling, people did. Your faith in humanity needs a reality check. We’ve also come across communities that banned weapons before, that didn’t end well either and I guarantee it does not make me or any of Rick’s group feel welcome or safe. If you don’t trust Rick anymore, we’re a package deal.” She announces with finality on the subject. “You’re sheltered, you have no idea.”

Deanna is silent a moment, assessing the teen thoughtfully. “Jessie and MJ please come with me; the rest of you return to your days.”

Jessie glances over to find her son Sam in the crowd and catches Carol’s eye; Carol gives her a silent nod of assurance that she’d watch over Sam while Jessie goes with Deanna.

Chapter Text

Daryl and Aaron sat in the car in silence, each mentally debating their options; Aaron opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat at the sound of the wet slice of flesh outside the car. He exchanges a look with Daryl, wondering silently if this is the people they were warned about in the hastily scrawled and hidden note, but a moment later the Walkers are clearing off the car and the two steel themselves, weapons in hand and they’re charging out in unison.

There is a black man in a tan coat with a long smooth stick, beating off Walkers with both ends of it, and a teenage girl of about eighteen with light brown hair and a strange looking blade in her hand.

They finally all stumble past the gate and get it closed, Daryl taking out the lone Walker outside the gates with a quick shot of his crossbow like a knee-jerk reaction.

The black man glances at the Walker as it drops behind him and gives Daryl a grateful nod of thanks; Daryl nods back and turns to look at their other savior.

Panting a little, her jeans are worn with ragged holes in the knees, frayed and discolored at the feet, her cream-plaid button-up is worn thin in places and is splattered in blood both fresh and old; there’s a bit of fresh blood splatter across her left cheek, and there is a gory chunk of flesh tangled in her hair just below her right ear, but her bright blue eyes are grinning happily.

“You’re immortal, aren’t you?”

“Just a fellow badass,” she smirks, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around her.

“One of yours?” Aaron asks.

“Thought we’d lost ‘er,” Daryl answers. “One of ‘em hocked a loogie on ya.” He tells her as he shoulders his crossbow and reaches for the chunk of flesh stuck in her hair.

“Hazard of the job,” she shrugs, trying to watch his progress out the corner of her eye.

“Um, I’m Aaron and this is Daryl,” he mutters, flustered.

“Morgan,” the black man nods in greeting; “She’s MJ.”

Chapter Text

Michonne keeps glancing over her shoulder as Scott manages to keep the two Walkers trying to pounce on him at bay, kicking and shoving at them, but she and the others are too busy fighting off the rest to help him, though Tobin is trying.

A sharp whistle gains the attention of a few of the Walkers and for a brief moment Michonne wonders if Sturgess had second thoughts, but instead of the bang of a gun she hears the wet slice of a blade through soft flesh; without looking over she wonders why Rick would come back.

Michonne and Glenn finally dive for the, now two, Walkers pawing at Scott and quickly take care of them; Tobin takes out one last Walker and they all pant in exertion, taking the few seconds they can to come off the adrenaline high.

Finally they all look over, expecting Rick to be their savior; instead they find an eighteen-year-old girl with light brown hair and bright blue eyes, a strange blade in her hand and a grin on her face.

“MJ?” Glenn gasps in disbelief.

“Hey kids; miss me?” she grins teasingly.

“Shit,” Michonne swears; she sheaths her blade quickly and scurries forward, enveloping the younger girl in a desperate hug.

MJ lets out a huff of laughter as Glenn joins the hug, coming up behind the teen and wrapping his arms around both of them.

“Okay, I love you guys, and it’s great to see you, but it’s also hot.” MJ muffles into Michonne’s shoulder.

They reluctantly separate, smiling at each other.

“Friend of yours, I take it?” Heath pipes up.

“Old friend,” Glenn nods.

“Where are my boys?” MJ asks.

Glenn chuckles and shakes his head; Michonne snorts, a grin fighting its way onto her face. “Daryl and two more of our group are leading a huge herd away from home,” she explains. “A few broke off and Rick went to get a vehicle to catch the break-away group and lead them back to the herd.”

MJ purses her lips, “Rick went off by himself?”

“He can handle it,” Glenn answers.

“What are you guys doing?”

“Trying to stay ahead of the break-away herd,” Michonne tells her.

“What happened to you two? Get bit?” MJ asks of Annie and Scott.

Annie shakes her head, “I twisted my ankle running earlier.”

“Got shot,” Scott answers curtly through clenched teeth.

Chapter Text

Glenn frowns at the half-scarred face of ‘D’ and the gun he’s pointing at them when something behind the man catches his eye. At first, Glenn thinks it’s a Walker shuffling down the incline and heading towards them, but then he realizes it’s a person sitting in a tree; the branch is high enough to avoid the weak stretching-reach of a Walker, but low enough to be within eye line.

For a moment, he thinks it’s another member of ‘D’s’ team, but then he recognizes the figure.

It’s MJ.

She’s wearing the same worn jeans and blue plaid shirt he’d last seen her in back at the prison just before the Governor’s final attack, when she’d gone off on her own to hunt for food and check the perimeter for any nearby Supernatural threats.

She smiles and wiggles her fingers at him in ‘hello’; he quickly glances around at the other men with guns on them so he doesn’t draw attention that he’s not staring at ‘D’ but over the man’s head instead.

When he returns his gaze to her, as the men slowly inch their way closer, she inclines her head to ask if they need help; he closes his eyes and counts to five before he opens them again to indicate they have no plays and need the help.

She takes one finger and scratches the side of her nose, then holds her hands together as if in prayer and lays her head on them to indicate sleep, next she scratches the side of her nose with two fingers before drawing a single finger across her neck to indicate death.

The men have shuffled in close enough now that ‘D’ demands their weapons; with a put-upon sigh Glenn reaches up and scratches the side of his nose with one finger before moving as if to hand over his rifle.

MJ’s hands extend out in front of her, and as she flicks her gaze over each man she snaps her fingers; all at once the men’s eyes roll back into their heads, they go suddenly limp, and drop like marionettes with their strings cut.

Michonne tenses up, still gripping the handle of her katana, prepared to draw; rolling his eyes Glenn bumps her shoulder and jerks his chin towards MJ. Michonne blinks owlishly as the teen waves cheekily before dropping down out of the tree and heading towards them.

“Trouble magnets, the lot of you; how’ve you survived these months without me?”

“Pure dumb luck,” Glenn tells her with an amused smirk and wraps one arm around her in a hug.

“By the skin of our teeth,” Michonne adds, squeezing the teen happily in greeting.

Chapter Text

“You…Are…It…” Negan stops, pointing the end of his bat at his chosen victim; a grin stretches his lips.

Before anything else happens a gun goes off, the loud crack of the shot echoing in the eerily quiet clearing; Negan’s right shoulder jerks back at the impact of the bullet and he grunts, but he never loses his grip on Lucille.

Every gun goes up but Negan puts up his good hand to stay them before gently prodding his new wound, sneering at the blood and the hole in his fairly new leather jacket.

Out of the shadows of the forest where Rick’s group had entered the clearing comes a slight figure, gun drawn and pointed steadily at Negan. His attention is caught as the torches lighting their meeting finally reveal a young girl of about eighteen in jeans, combat boots and a blue plaid shirt; hard, deep blue eyes are focused on the man with the bat.

She stops about ten paces away from the line of kneeling people.

The area is quiet again, every gun poised on the newest arrival.

“Tell me, is it irony or karma? Being shot with your own gun,” she asks, turning the gun in her hand to the side so he can see the profile. “Colt M1911A1 with an engraved slide and ivory grips, forty-five caliber with a standard seven-round magazine, right?”

Negan clenches his jaw, staring her down a moment; he lifts his left hand and motions for his men to put their guns down. “Was,” he finally says.

“Am I a ‘was’ too?” she asks with narrowed eyes as the gun drops to her side.

Negan doesn’t answer her; he decides he’s standing too close to their prisoners and takes a step back, covering by centering himself in front of the young girl where she stands behind Rick and Maggie. “What are you doing here?”

She moves forward, stopping when she’s even with Maggie and Rick’s feet, pressing her ankle against the sick woman’s. “Why ‘Lucille’, why not ‘Mary’?”

The bat visibly jerks in his hand and he bares his teeth. “Turn around and leave now; no harm, no foul.”

“I. Want. To. Know.” She annunciates, raising her voice an octave; “Why Not ‘Mary’?”

“Why are you here?” he repeats.

She stares him down, almost like she’s going to wait for him to answer her question first before she spreads her hands gesturing to the line of people down on their knees. “I’m collecting my people; they aren’t supposed to be out after dark, you see. So, I’ll take my people and all of their stuff of course, and be on our way.”

Negan shakes his head slowly, like he’s disappointed; “That’s not how the world works anymore, MJ.”

She tucks her chin in slightly so she can glower at him, “Like you really know, Grampa.” She hisses. She tucks the gun in the back of her pants, shuffling her shirt so it’s covered before stepping forward, squeezing Rick and Maggie’s shoulders as she stands even with them.

Rick lifts his hand to touch hers, squeezing her fingers briefly before just resting his hand on hers; Maggie tips her head to the side leaning her fever-hot, sweaty face against the young girl’s cool hand and wrist.

“This world isn’t so different,” MJ says evenly. “Do your men know? Do they know how to protect themselves from what’s really out there?”

There are several outraged noises from the crowd at the insinuation that they can’t protect themselves.

“Shut up!” Negan snaps and the crowd goes quiet.

“These aren’t Soldiers, Colonel, these men are bullies with guns; and you know what bullies are? They’re cowards that pack together. You have an army of cowards.” She steps forward again, now just two strides separating herself from Negan, and lifts her chin in defiance the same way Abraham had done moments before. An ironic smile lighting her face, “Do your men, with their twitchy trigger fingers just itching to fire at me and shut me up, do they know how to defend themselves from me?” The blue of her eyes flares a bright white for the briefest of moments that only Negan can see.

Negan doesn’t say anything, just stares her down.

“You were family once, you are blood, but that doesn’t mean you’re still family.” She tells him with no remorse. “But because you were family, once-upon-a-time, I will grant you a small courtesy;” she takes a half step forward and leans in like she’s going to tell him a secret, but her voice is still loud in the quiet clearing. “The world hasn’t changed, it’s just been hiding. Right now a pack of Werewolves is circling this clearing, waiting for their moment, and when they take it your men are going to scatter like the cowards they are; ‘Every Man for Himself’,” she grins a little manically up at him. “But they won’t get far, you know why? Because faster than they can think, they’ll be picked off by the Wendigos waiting in the wings. Quite the feast you’ve gathered for them, I’m sure they’ll be grateful to the Once Great and Powerful Hunter John Negan Winchester.” She bares her teeth at him in a snarl, “Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

Rick, trusting MJ, climbs to his feet; Abraham stands with him, pulling Maggie weakly to her feet as well. Glenn jumps to his feet and rushes to Maggie’s side while Michonne and Rosita help Daryl to his feet; Sasha exchanges a wary glance with Eugene down the line and then Aaron beside her before all three of them stand uneasily at once. Carl practically jumps to his feet but then seems unsure what to do with himself.

“My people have immunity; you are not one of my people. We will be taking our things and leaving now.” She gives a low whistle, “Uncle Benny, Cole, grab our things; everybody in the bus.” She flicks a smile over her shoulder and gestures Rick and the group towards the RV.

A man comes out from behind the RV; wearing black jeans, a dingy white Henley and a black Peacoat with a black newsboy-hat pulled low enough to put his eyes in shadow, he flashes a grin at Negan as he goes straight for Dwight with Daryl’s crossbow. The other man, in gray jeans, a black v-neck and a black cargo jacket with a rifle in hand rounds the opposite end of the RV and goes for the man who’d led the group that first stopped the RV on the road.

Glenn has scooped Maggie up into his arms, getting her off her feet; Rick puts a guiding hand on the Korean man’s back and, keeping his eyes on Negan, carefully makes his way towards the side door of the RV. Carl trails close behind his father as he helps Michonne walk a reluctant-for-help Daryl towards the vehicle as well. Abraham stands straight-backed, waiting for the others to go ahead of him.

The man with Daryl’s bow tries to put up a fight, but Benny is obviously stronger, attempting to pull the weapon from Dwight’s grasp with a bored expression on his face.

Cole is having an easier time, pulling weapons from the men who neither make it easy nor put up too much of a fight.

“These people are crazy! Fuckin’ Werewolves and Wendigos! Are ya kiddin’ me?” Dwight snaps, wrestling with the man in the hat. In the struggle the crossbow goes off, the arrow going uselessly into the ground with a ‘thunk’ at Negan’s feet.

“Oh, and one Vampire,” MJ adds cheekily.

Benny hisses in Dwight’s face, baring razor-sharp teeth; the blond lets out a terrified scream before the Vampire lurches forward and sinks his teeth into his victim’s throat. He yanks the crossbow from Dwight’s weakening grasp and tosses it away, before pulling his meal close as if holding a lover; Rosita scoops up the crossbow before hurrying towards the RV. When he finally pulls away and drops the blond like useless trash his face and neck are covered in blood, the collar of his shirt beginning to stain; he tilts his head back with a grin curling his lips, basking in his own ecstasy with sharp, bloody teeth on full display. “Brother, that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout; blood bags just don’t have that kick,” he murmurs with a thick New Orleans accent.

“Uncle Benny, you have to clean up after yourself now, remember?” MJ arches a teasing eyebrow at him, smirking.

Nodding, Benny pulls a strange blade from inside his jacket; the weapon looks like a sharpened blade-shaped black stone lanced to a bone. He brings it down on Dwight’s head like it’s a machete, hacking most of the way through the skull with one swing.

The other men, frozen in terror, have relinquished the rest of the weapons that belong to Rick’s group to a slightly overburdened Cole who grumbles his way to the RV; he nods gratefully to Abraham as the redhead lightens his load. Abraham is the last to load into the RV, leaving only MJ and Benny outside with the Saviors.

“Keys please,” MJ holds out her hand expectantly.

“So this is Dean’s Old Man, huh?” Benny hums as he strolls closer. “I expected…more.”

Negan glowers at the Vampire, tightening his hold on Lucille; “What do you know about my son?” he hisses.

“More than you,” Benny smirks.

“Keys, Grampa!” MJ insists impatiently.

Negan grits his teeth and with no warning swings the bat, swooping it narrowly over MJ’s head and aiming for the Vampire.

“Whoa…!” Benny ducks back with an amused grin.

“No killing my Godfather!” MJ yells; she grabs Lucille out of the air mid-swing, the barbed wire shredding the skin of her hand but she pays it no heed, attempting to jerk the bat out of the older man’s hand and kick him in the stomach at the same time. “Benny, inside!” She demands.

Benny doesn’t hesitate, leaping into the RV and slamming the door closed behind him.

MJ lets out a roar of anger and a burst of blinding white light bursts from her body; it rocks the RV, throws Negan and every other man off their feet, some of the unluckier men lay lifeless on the ground with their eyes burned out.

Negan sits up on his elbows and stares at the teen standing over him.

Her grip around the thick of his bat is tight, blood dripping steadily from her fingers; she’s seething above him, chest heaving, eyes bright with an unnatural glow, and the shadow of fully extended wings showing in the flicker of the still lit torches of the clearing. “Go Back To Hell.” Her voice, though steady and clear, has an effect like a siren and an earthquake going off at the same time as the men all flinch away and the ground rumbles around them, trees shaking like they’re scared. “Run!”

It takes a moment after their heads stop ringing for the Saviors to understand the instruction was for them and they quickly scatter into their vehicles and flee, kicking up clouds of dirt as they floor their gas pedals; for the moment, uncaring for their fallen.

MJ tosses the bat down, the barbed wire scraping the side of Negan’s face. “Stay on your side of the line.” She jingles the RV keys in her hand at him before stepping over him to join her people in the large vehicle.

Chapter Text

Negan straightens from drawing a black line across Carl’s thin, pale arm, smiling at his own handy work. When he demands Rick be the one to cut his son’s arm, the ex-deputy looks incredulously up at him, shaking his head in disbelieving fear. Just as Rick opens his mouth to plead for his son a quiet voice interrupts the near silence of the clearing.

“What are you doing?” the voice of a female teen asks.

Negan looks up at the voice and huffs a sigh, shaking his head. “This doesn’t concern you; go back-“

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she shouts. She moves forward angrily, “What-?” she falters, stumbling to a stop. “Rick?”

Rick lifts his head shakily and finds himself looking up at MJ, her bright blue eyes wide in her surprise. She looks the same as she did the last time he saw her at the Prison, she’s even wearing the same blue-and-gray plaid shirt and worn jeans; her hair is a little longer, reaching mid-chest instead of just past her shoulders.

She dives forward, sliding to a stop on her knees in front of him; she grabs his face, smearing the blood on his face looking for a wound, letting out a little exhale at finding few. A shaky hand sweeps the sweat-drenched curls back off his face and she gives him a little smile; the look on his face must clue her in because her face drops as she looks around them. A slightly bloody hand touches her own face as she takes in the bodies.

Rick ducks his head to hide a smile when MJ’s eyes suddenly go steely and she slowly rises to her feet; she turns her gaze on Negan, “Explain this to me.” It’s nothing short of an order.

“This is business,” Negan tells her without repentance; his look challenges her to defy him.

She cocks her head jerkily, narrowing her slightly glowing eyes. “Business?” the pebbles at her feet tremble at her voice, but no one but Rick and Carl notice.

“I’m in charge; Rick needs to learn that.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two stare each other down and then MJ moves very suddenly and faster than anyone can react; her left hand reaches behind her, pulling a gun from the back of her waistband and swinging it around, at the same time her Angel Blade slides into her right hand, seemingly falling out of her sleeve and into her hand. The Blade comes up, viciously stabbing Negan in the left side of his gut, the movement so forceful the tip protrudes from the man’s back; at the same time she pulls the trigger of the gun in her other hand without looking and Simon drops to the ground with a jolt.

MJ leans into Negan, teeth bared as her lip curls back in anger. “Blood don’t make you family,” she growls into his face, eyes flickering back and forth between bright blue and blinding white. “I’m in charge now!” She says loudly so her voice carries across the clearing even as her eyes don’t leave Negan’s face; “And I’ll be damned if I let you or anyone else hurt my family.” She yanks the blade from his gut with a twist and watches as he stumbles back, clutching his new wound.

Negan looks over to see his right-hand-man on the ground with a hole in his forehead.

MJ tucks the gun away with a stiff casualness, but keeps the bloody blade in her hand. “Now-” she jerks unexpectedly as an arrow embeds in her shoulder with a meaty thunk like someone punched her.

“Fuck,” Dwight swears as he attempts to reload.

MJ turns to look at him, eyes wide in a slightly manic surprise. “Did you just shoot me with Daryl’s crossbow?” she asks. “You should be pissing yourself! Begging for your life!” She lifts her left hand and snaps her fingers at him, the sound sharp and wet-sounding from the blood still slicking her fingers from touching Rick’s face; Dwight explodes where he stands.

There’s a startled shout of horror from the rest of the Saviors and they all take a fearful step back from where Dwight once stood.

“Now you should be running.” MJ tells them all darkly, her eyes glowing steadily.

The Saviors don’t hesitate, terror driving them as they scramble for their vehicles, uncaring as the weapons they’d stolen from Rick’s group force themselves out of their hands and to the ground.

One man braves getting close enough to drag their wounded leader away; Negan locks eyes with the teen until he’s forced to look away.

The last vehicle leaves, kicking up dirt in its wake.

As soon as the clearing is quiet again MJ jolts into action, the blade disappearing from her hand as she dives towards Glen’s body first. She drops to her knees harshly; letting out a shuddering breath she wipes her hands on her thighs before hovering both hands, fingers spread wide, over the gory mess that once was the young ex-delivery boy’s head.

She inhales sharply, holding back a sob, and squeezes her eyes shut; a warm bright glow radiates from her palms. The glow becomes so intense it hides the gruesome sight from view; the group sits on the ground waiting with baited breath.

Slowly the light dims until it disappears altogether, in its place Glen lays whole once more; his eyes fly open with a gasp and a sigh of relief goes around the group even as Maggie attempts to scramble to her feet to get to her husband, even MJ looks relieved at her own feat.

MJ crawls her way over to repeat the process with Abraham.

Once both men are breathing and whole again MJ moves on to healing first Maggie, then Daryl, and then Eugene.

“Come here, Carla,” MJ says teasingly.

Carl just huffs a laugh and nearly plows her over as he wraps his arms around her, clinging to her like she’ll disappear again.

MJ smiles into his hair; when she pulls away she rips the make-shift eye-patch off his face, he blinks two eyes up at her owlishly. She laughs at him, “Who’s next? Form a line.”

Rick grabs her a little roughly, hugging her desperately. “Never leave us again,” he murmurs into the hair at her left temple. “We thought you were dead, we thought we’d lost you.”

“I’ll handcuff myself to one of you at all times.” MJ mutters into his shoulder.

Rick lets out a little puff of laughter, “That’s all I ask.”

“You said Negan was blood?” Daryl asked, standing close with his crossbow hanging loosely at his side. “And I’m gonna need that bolt in your shoulder back.”

MJ snorts. “Love you too Double D,” she smirks. “And the crazy dude with the bat is my grandfather,” she adds absently. “Just yank it out,” she gestures at the arrow still protruding from her shoulder.

“Negan is your Grandfather?” Sasha asks loudly.

“Yup!” she chirps. “John Eric Negan-Winchester; his mom remarried when he was nine, but he dropped the ‘Negan’ when he turned eighteen and just went by ‘Winchester’,” she shrugs and then winces at the pull in her shoulder. “At least until he died.”

“What?” Abraham asked.

“You’re new; it’s a really long story.” MJ says as if she’s just realized there are people here she doesn’t recognize.

“We have a lot of catching up to do.” Rick assures.

Chapter Text

“You…Are…It…” Negan grins down the length of his bat as Abraham sat tall; chin held high in defiance. Negan planted his feet firmly, raised his bat, and froze at the sound of a gunshot.

“So how do you want this to go?” An eighteen-year-old girl asks loudly as she marches into the crowded clearing, gun held high in the air over her head where she’d shot it to gain their attention. She’s dressed in worn, torn, and mostly faded blue jeans and a nearly thread-bare blue-and-gray plaid shirt; the sleeve cuffs of her shirt are unbuttoned and flop loosely around her wrists, her heavy black work-boots make surprisingly little sound as she moves into the clearing. Her wavy light brown hair reaches mid-chest, parted down the middle and braided over her right shoulder; bangs frame her oval face, clear blue eyes seemingly large in her smallish face.

Negan straightens up, bat coming down to rest on his left shoulder, and he looks part amused-part annoyed. “And who might you be?”

“The cavalry, duh,” she rolls her eyes. “So, how does this go? I want my people, I want their shit, and I never want to hear from you or your people again; so do we do this easy? Or hard?” she asks even as she tucks her gun away in the back of her waistband.

Negan snorts and jerks his head at one of his men in the crowd.

Rick turns to look over his shoulder and his eyes widen in surprise; “MJ…”

“Don’t worry Rick, I got this.” MJ grins at him.

“Do you really?” Negan asks.

 The muzzle of a gun presses against the back of MJ’s head, to the right of the base of her skull; the hammer is pulled back with an audile click.

“There’s one,” Negan grins down at Rick with a slight incline of his head towards MJ.

The gunshot goes off.

MJ jerks forward with the momentum of the shot, but at the same time her right arm swings out; her fingers catch in the shirt of her shooter and she pulls them together so they’re face to face. Her left cheek was blown out by the shot, taking out a good chunk of her lower jaw with it; plenty of her teeth are missing or badly damaged, the top of her tongue shredded and singed.

She pulls him close enough that their noses nearly brush; her right cheek pulls back like she’s trying to grin at him while he curses and fumbles to pull back the hammer of the revolver again, hands shaking.

“Here there be monsters,” she slurs at him, her voice a quiet threat.

His eyes widen in fear as he realizes her wound in knitting itself back together right before his eyes.

Her eyes widen in manic glee, “Have at thee.”

At her words the forest around them comes alive with roars and growls like a herd of hungry wild beasts was suddenly awakened; figures leap out of the forest and the treetops, pouncing on the Saviors with deadly accuracy.

The Saviors yell out in fear and agony as sharp teeth and claws tear into them, guns go off at random but none of their attackers seem fazed.

MJ shoves her shooter away and he screams out as he’s caught by a human-shaped creature with sharp claw, long canines, and glowing golden eyes; it grins down at him before those sharp teeth go straight for his throat. His scream chokes off with a gurgle like so many others.

MJ turns and grins at the slack-jawed Negan. “Sorry Grandpa, but I don’t like what you’ve become; perhaps third time will be the charm,” she shrugs at him and then inclines her head. “Go for it, Peter.”

 Negan whips around just in time to see a man in a black wool trench coat with slicked-back brown hair stand tall on top of the RV; his fingertips sharpen into claws and his eyes flare bright gold before he suddenly leaps, diving straight for Negan. Negan swings his bat, but just a little too soon, only scraping the man’s face; the man is healed before he even fully lands on top of Negan.

Rick hurriedly climbs to his feet, looking frantic for a moment before MJ pats his arm.

“Relax Farmer John, they’re under strict orders; ‘Saviors only’.”

“Maggie needs help,” Glen says hurriedly as he fumbles to his feet, skirting around Negan and his Werewolf attacker to get to his wife.

“So does Daryl,” Michonne pipes up.

“’M fine,” the archer snaps, swatting at the woman as she tries to help him to his feet.

“You all look like over-toasted crap,” MJ announces bluntly. “Everybody in the bus,” she motions towards the RV. “Michonne, you line them up from greatest to least and I’ll get to everybody.”

“Did you call him ‘Grandpa’?” Sasha asks, pointing towards Negan.

“Yes,” she confirms without hesitation. “It’s a story for later; it’s a big complicated thing. I’ll tell you guys the whole story later, including how ironic it is that Peter is doing the deed; we’ll catch up, we’ll laugh, we’ll cry, we’ll have a chick-flick moment and be done with it. Now into the bus before somebody’s luck runs out and one of you catches one or two of these stray bullets flying around. Shoo!” She scoops up Negan’s bat and uses it like she’s directing traffic.

Chapter Text

Negan has just threatened to shoot Olivia if the missing guns didn’t show; Rick is panicking slightly as he tries to think of a way to respond when he hears the pounding of feet on the pavement behind him as someone approaches at a run.

Rick had been expecting one of Negan’s men to come running up with even more bad news and make a bad situation even worse.

Rick does not expect to be very nearly tackled as a slighter, shorter body plows into his back and spins him around; when he’s facing Negan again he blinks, and looks down into bright happy blue eyes.

“MJ?” he blurts out in surprise.

“Yup, somebody finally called me.” She reaches up and scratches the beard on his left cheek. “Yer gettin’ scruffy again, FJ.”

“Well,” Negan pipes up, calling attention back to him. “Who’s this?”

MJ spins on the toe of her right foot to face the new voice and ends up blinking wide-eyed at him; “Holy Crap.”

“MJ,” Rick hesitates a moment by clearing his throat. “This is Negan.”

“Hello there, ‘MJ’. Nice to meet you,” Negan says in his usual smug-humor tone of voice.

MJ returns his smug grin with one of her own. “Is that right? And what’s going on here, ‘Negan’?” she gestures to the men still piling guns into the back of the truck.

Rick grabs MJ’s arm and squeezes to silently tell her to back off.

But Negan just chuckles, “Rick and I have a little agreement that entitles me to half their stuff. I’m just taking my half.”

“Looks to me like you don’t know the definition of ‘half’.”

Negan’s female soldier takes a threatening step forward but Negan holds up a hand to stop her, grinning; MJ doesn’t even acknowledge the other woman.

“I decide what’s ‘half’, that’s how this little arrangement works; right, Rick?”

Rick avoids eye contact as he nods in agreement.

“Somebody hasn’t been told the new rules,” he arches his eyebrow and looks pointedly at Rick.

“I’ve been gone for a while,” MJ grins condescendingly at him. “But I still managed to bring you a present.”

“Did you now?” Negan returns her tone with one of his own.

MJ steps towards him, dragging a hand over Daryl’s shoulder as she passes him on his way back into the building for another load; she stops just a couple steps shy of the man in the leather jacket and smiles brightly up at him. She reaches out and pats the middle of his chest, “Wait for it.” She turns her head over her shoulder and shouts, “Daddy!”

They hear someone jogging closer from the same direction MJ had appeared. Negan looks up and the smug smile instantly drops from his face when the person rounds the truck.

He’s about the same height as Negan, a little younger, tall and broad in the chest, legs slightly bowed; wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, with an open dark blue over-shirt, and an army-green jacket over that. He has a handsome face with MJ’s high cheekbones and full lips; close-cropped brown hair and day-old stubble on his jaw.

“Dean,” Negan breaths sounding like he was just punched in the gut.

“Dad,” Dean nods in acknowledgement. He steps up and places a hand on top of MJ’s head; “Darlin’, go help your uncles.”

“‘Kay. Bye, Grampa!” MJ gives Negan a cheeky smile and wave before she turns away. She grabs Daryl’s hand as she goes to leave; “This is one of mine,” she mumbles as she drags him away. Everyone is too busy staring at Negan and Dean to stop them.

“How…?” Negan starts.

“That was going to be my first question, actually.” Dean says gruffly.

“That…?” He gestures in the direction MJ just disappeared.

“My firstborn,” Dean nods. “We lost her a couple years back and Rick’s group found her, took her in, and kept her alive. What are you doing here?”

“Son,” Negan starts.

“No, you know what? Don’t explain it to me ‘cause no matter what I say you’re not going to listen to me.” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “But I know someone you’ll have a hard time justifying it to.” He jerks his head to the right and Negan turns to look.

“Mary?”

The blond woman, dressed nearly matching Dean, frowns up at him. “John, what’s going on here?”

Rick watches in amazement as Negan actually stutters trying to find the right words. “I-I…”

MJ runs back over with two men following leisurely at her heels; one man dressed in a solid black suit with a purple silk tie, the other a taller man with reddish-blond hair, sunken blue eyes and bored expression on his face. She reaches back and takes the taller man’s wrist, dragging him with her as she heads into the building where a couple of Negan’s men are still gathering up the last of the weapons.

“What…?” Negan points after MJ and then at the man in the black suit whose now standing at the back of the truck.

“We’re killing all your men,” Mary tells him harshly, “But I’d still like an explanation, John.”

MJ stomps back up the stairs with a grimace on her face, splattered in blood and chunks of flesh. “I think Uncle Luci is actually getting bored with killing humans; all he did was explode them.”

Dean growls unhappily before stomping towards the stairs. “Lucifer!”

“Crowley, what are you waiting for?” MJ asks the man in the suit.

“I was thinking it might be more fun to torture a few instead.”

Dean comes back up the stairs, dragging Lucifer along by his elbow. “Fine, but take Lucifer with you and share.”

Lucifer grabs the girl at the top of the stairs, pulling her along like it’s nothing even as she struggles violently; she even raises her gun and shoots him in the side but the man is completely non-pulsed.

“Wait…!”

“What’s the matter, dad? Did you want a little mercy for your men?” Dean snarls at him as he passes, heading for Rick; he shakes his hand in proper greeting. “Sorry we weren’t here sooner, the Angels had a little trouble pinpointing your prayers, but we do have Glen and Abraham with us. They’re helping us round up the ‘non-residents’.”

“We also have Beth and somebody she requested named Noah, and someone named Denise.” MJ pipes up as she steals a purple handkerchief out of Crowley’s pocket and starts wiping her face with it.

Chapter Text

Eugene and Rosita lay in the mud for a good hour or more after the herd had passed; afraid it would circle back towards them, and silently panicking over the talking Walkers. Nearby they hear the squish of mud and the rustle of clothes and they tense up again.

“Herds passed, you’re clear.” A woman’s voice announces.

Rosita shifts her eyes to the side to see a woman in her mid-twenties looking down at her expectantly; dressed in faded jeans and a black v-neck with heavy work-boots, she has a shoulder holster and a machete hanging from her left hip. She’s pretty, with a roundish face, high cheekbones and big blue eyes; she’s got medium brown hair, bangs framing her face and a braid resting over her right shoulder.

The woman raises her hands in a placating manner. “Saw you dive in; he’s injured so I figured you’d need an extra hand.”

Rosita glances up at the road before cautiously sitting up, wiping at the mud on her face. “You alone?”

“Yea, eight years I’ve been up and down the coast looking for my people, starting to wonder if they headed west.”

“Eight years by yourself?” Rosita asks incredulously.

“Mostly,” she shrugs. “My name‘s MJ.”

“Rosita,” she says cautiously; “This is Eugene.”

“Those Walkers spoke,” Eugene announces.

MJ smirks, “You’d think that, but you’d be wrong. They’re a group who call themselves ‘The Whisperers’; they wear the skins of the dead and walk amongst them. They mean trouble.”

“Shit!” Rosita hisses.

MJ nods, glancing up at the road; “I’m not sure what they do for food; they might be cannibals for all I can tell, the way they live their lives amongst the Walkers like they do.”

Rosita climbs to her feet, sloughing off as much of the mud as she can. “That explains why the herd seemed to take a u-turn straight for us; spooked our horses.”

MJ wanders over to help Rosita lever Eugene back to his feet. “I know how to recognize their territory markers, I can steer you clear of them. Which way you headed?”

“I reckon we should be steering clear of where we came from, then?” Eugene asks with a little hiss as he steadies himself on his feet with the shovel as his walking-stick.

“Yea, it’s a good idea for now. They won’t scoop any supplies you left behind unless it’s a weapon, so you could go back for it later if it’s important.”

MJ starts leading them away, opposite the road and into the thick of the woods.

“Well the good news is they don’t move any faster than the Walkers.” Rosita grumbles as she helps Eugene hobble along.

“No, but they’ve got better hearing, and they have the ability to redirect a herd without any noise; and you can distract a herd,” MJ huffs.

They crunch their way through the foliage for about twenty minutes before Rosita breaks the silence again.

“You said you’ve been searching for your people for eight years? How do you know they aren’t dead or something?”

MJ lets out a little laugh, “Those stubborn S.O.B.s? No way. They’ve been through shit like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I might,” Rosita responds with a snort. “The world’s gone to shit; people are even worse assholes than they were before too.”

“I’ve heard some stories and seen some shit myself,” MJ nods. “We had a decent place south of here but some asshole with a God complex decided if he couldn’t have what we did, and rule over it himself, no one could. I was out by myself hunting for food and maybe some supplies, when I got back the place was on fire and covered in Walkers; giant gaping holes in our fences, building half destroyed.” She shook her head, “I checked every Walker, found the asshole but none of my people. Found a trail, followed it north until I couldn’t anymore, then I just kept going and going.”

“Shit,” Rosita muttered for lack of anything else to say.

“They’re resilient fuckers,” she grins back at them over her shoulder.

She walks them out of the woods and up onto a road where there’s a 2006 Honda Pilot waiting for them; at first glance it looks like any other vehicle abandoned on the side of the road, but a closer look shows some much more recent wear.

“Have a seat in the back and I’ll take a look at your knee,” she offers as she opens the back door of the vehicle. “You wrench it running?”

“No, I fell from a height of approximately ten feet, give or take.” Eugene answers as he climbs into the vehicle per her request.

Rosita stands lookout as MJ checks him over, pressing and bending his injured knee and listening to him hiss and grumble.

“I think you just bruised it pretty bad, twisted the joint at the worst.” She frowns at his knee, “Let me just,” she presses into the back of his knee and he lets out a little sigh of relief.

“That is amazing,” Eugene states matter-of-factly.

MJ grins up at him, “I just pushed on a pressure-point; it should alleviate the pain and reduce some of the swelling.” She turns toward Rosita, “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

Rosita purses her lips and debates with herself for two and a half minutes before giving a reluctant nod. “Our people probably won’t be happy about it, but you come with useful information.”

MJ nods, rounding the car to the driver’s side while Rosita takes the passenger’s seat and Eugene settles himself in the back.

Rosita directs the way until they’re slowly approaching the main door to Alexandria, she hangs her head out the window to signal up at the guard on the gate; it opens, and they slowly pull in to see Gabriel and Aaron waiting for them. They all open their doors at once; Eugene is still using the shovel as a crutch as he hobbles away from the vehicle, and while Rosita approaches the two men and the growing crowd MJ stays next to the car.

“More people?” a man in the growing crowds snaps angrily; he receives a glare from Rosita in response.

“She has vital information we need,” she insists. “We have a new threat,” she adds more quietly.

Aaron turns and nods to one of the men behind him, who in turn runs off.

“Our security officer will like to speak with you,” Gabriel smiles pleasantly at the new woman.

“That’s fine,” she agrees.

They all wait around in awkward silence before approaching horse hooves disturb the quiet; looking at the approaching figure means looking into the sun, so MJ just keeps her eyes on Gabriel and Aaron while they wait.

“What’s this?”

MJ’s head snaps up just as Michonne slides off the horse. “Well fuck me, if it isn’t Mulan.”

Michonne is stunned silent and frozen for a moment; she recognizes the nickname, but it takes her a moment to reconcile the face before her with the seventeen-year-old she knew briefly eight years ago. “MJ?”

“Up and down the eastern seaboard for eight fucking years and here you are.”

Michonne opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out as she steps over and wraps her arms around the brunette.

“I like the new do, very new age emo.”

Michonne laughs into her shoulder before reluctantly pulling away. “God, you are a sight for sore eyes.”

MJ grins, “Looks like you’ve got some stories to catch me up on.”

“Michonne?” Gabriel intones.

“This is MJ; she was with us…since before myself actually.”

“Maggie and them still around?” MJ asks.

Michonne opens her mouth and then closes it, pausing a moment, “We’ve lost some people; Maggie is still alive though, yes.”

She nods, “I found Hershel’s body, gave him a proper burial before I moved on to try and find you all.”

“We should…we should sit down for the rest of this talk.” Michonne decides. “You want to see Judith?”

“Ju-ju-bee is still good? I found her bloody car-seat.”

“Tyreese got her out,” Michonne nods, guiding MJ back towards her house.

Chapter Text

They stand in formation several feet behind the new wall, waiting and watching as the hoard creeps out of the woods and draws nearer, headed straight for them. Daryl stands at the front, idly swinging the flail mace to get himself used to the weight as he watches the dead finally approach their first line of defense, Eugene’s single line electric fence.

Just after the hoard presses enough to snap the line, a sound breaks over the quiet hum of the Walkers’ groans. “Hey! Over this way, you smelly bastards!” a female voice yells over the din, immediately followed by the sound of ACDC’s ‘Back in Black’ blaring over the open field.

Daryl can see a shift in the hoard, the majority of them turning towards the sounds rather than the silent fence. Then he sees movement out of the corner of his eye and turns the see four figure heading for the fence as far from the hoard as they can get, a male and three females; he’s about to call attention to them, thinking they’re Whisperers when he recognizes two of the females as Connie and Magna. He turns and pulls Kelly and Yumiko out of the line-up and over to them as the approaching figures reach the fence-line.

The other, blonde, female stands guard, rifle pointed at the herd and picking off any Walkers that venture in their direction; the male helps the others over the fence. Connie comes over the wall first, taking the offered helping hands from Daryl and Yumiko; Daryl feels her squeeze his hand quickly before she’s pulling away to hug her sister. Magna comes over the wall next and goes straight into Yumiko’s arms.

Daryl watches the man tap the blonde’s shoulder before climbing onto the wall, he then pulls out a hand gun with a silencer and covers her as she climbs up and over the wall herself; Connie and Magna are both there to help her down. Finally the man holsters his gun and hops down off the wall.

Daryl is about to ask what’s going on and who these people are, but just as he opens his mouth the man finally turns to face him and he’s left gaping a moment. “…Rick?”

Rick Grimes smiles back at him, “Hey, Brother.”

Daryl hugs his long-lost brother-in-arms tightly, reluctant to ever let him go again, but he can still hear the Walkers and the formation behind him fighting them back off the wall. He pulls away with a clap to Rick’s shoulder, “It’s good to have you back, Brother.”

“Bag of grenades?” the blonde asks, offering up an open back-pack between the two men.

Rick reaches in and grabs a grenade, Daryl follows suit. “This is Claire, MJ’s sister.” He offers.

“Then out there, the music…?”

The ex-Deputy grins, “Who else do you know that crazy?”

“Besides you and me? Just her,” Daryl huffs back.

They each pull their pins and lob their grenades as deep into the herd as they can.

Before they can reach for more something rains down on the wall, splattering both the dead and the fighters there.

“Smells like Christmas trees!” Jerry yells out.

There’s a moment of confusion before it clicks in Daryl’s head and he’s yelling for retreat; people are confused but follow the order just in time to avoid the flaming arrows that come down in the same area; and then everything is on fire.

Daryl grabs Rick’s arm, “You stay close, I’m not loosing you again.”

Rick nods, “I’m with you.”

“Ladies, please, you’re making the rest of us jealous of your Epic Love Story.”

Daryl looks over his shoulder to see big, clear blues eye smirking at him; her entire person splattered in gore. “That goes for you too, Pest, stay close.”

“Sure; now can we move like shit’s on fire, or would you like to spend a few more moments gazing into each other’s eyes?”