Chapter Text
Beth Anne Greene was fifteen years old when the Dixons showed up in the city where she went to school. Thankfully, she lived on the outskirts, her farm being within driving distance of the city center. It meant that although the Dixons were a huge problem for the families of almost all of her friends, Beth stayed out of the bikers’ way. It also meant that the youngest Greene girl had no idea how they looked or even how old they were—just that they were dirty, rude, and dangerous. Of course, living in a small community like hers, and with friends who thrived on gossip, it was impossible to avoid hearing about them.
Most of the so-called “Dixon facts” were just gossip that no one could prove, but everyone believed them anyway. However, Beth wasn’t one for believing everything she heard, and it wasn’t like she was interested in them anyway. Actually, the girl found it strange that her friends would take the time to talk about the good-for-nothing bikers who had no respect for anyone. If Beth had her way, she would completely ignore the existence of such people. The girl had never understood the fascination most people had with evil. For her, it was the good ones who were worth talking about, not the bad. Much to Beth’s displeasure, though, if someone asked, she would have no problem remembering all of the things she’d heard about the Dixon brothers.
Once, she eavesdropped on Maggie asking their daddy about them, and that’s when she heard the story about how they came to the city to visit their uncle and stayed for good. Then there was another time when she heard Cordelia’s mom talking about some woman who got pregnant by one of the Dixons. When she told him about the baby, he gave her a knife, threw her out in the middle of the night, and told her to get rid of it and get lost. That woman tried to take the baby out with that knife the same night and ended up in the hospital where Cordelia’s mom worked the night shift. The story wasn’t told by the Dixon woman, though. She died that night, and nobody would have known how Dixon treated her if he hadn’t informed the police himself. At least, that’s how the story went, and those were the stories Beth believed.
There were also others. Many, many others. Stories about the Dixon brothers treating women like crap, beating people to death, selling crystal to school kids, selling guns to the mafia, murdering people who came in their way, and torturing those who betrayed their club. But that was only gossip. There was no proof for any of it, so the Dixons stayed in the city, free to do as they wished. People feared them, hated them, and excluded them from all the local activities—which the brothers wouldn’t want to take part in anyway—but nothing else could be done.
Everybody knew about them. However, for Beth, the Dixons were only a terrifying story, a myth told purposely to make others more alert. Then, eight months after Beth turned seventeen, Sophia Peletier, a thirteen-year-old daughter of Carol and Ed, went to school, took her usual way through the woods, and never came back. On the same evening, their community organized a search party. Obviously, Beth’s family joined in, and so did the youngest Greene. It was there, in the middle of the woods, that she met Daryl Dixon for the first time—and what a meeting it was.
It was a dark, windy night, and the forest was lit only by flashlights. They had been searching for a few hours already with no result, and Beth was getting tired. Of course, she wouldn’t tell that to anyone, wouldn’t even think of voicing her tiredness when there was a sweet, poor girl missing. However, Beth didn’t get much sleep the night before, the day in school was long, her cheerleader training after classes exhausting, and she was just feeling low after so many hours of walking around the forest.
To be completely honest, the blonde girl didn’t even notice she was slowing down to the point where she was walking behind everyone. That’s when she heard someone screaming, not too far away from the bushes on her left. It wouldn’t have been that weird to hear someone when so many people were walking around and calling out for Sophia, but this was a different kind of scream. One that sent shivers up her spine and made goosebumps appear on her skin.
Beth turned toward the sound quickly and, just like a loser she was, silently called out:
“Sophia? Are you there?”
There was no answer, but she heard the scream again, and without another thought, she dove into the forest. The first time Beth heard it, she thought it was somewhere nearby and that the source wouldn’t be hard to find. But as she started running, she realized that following a sound coming from behind so many trees could be tricky. What the seventeen-year-old realized next was that it could be dangerous too. Sharp pain shot through her foot, and when Hershel’s daughter took another step, something pulled her back. It all happened so fast that the teenager hardly registered what had transpired.
If Beth had made any sound while falling, she didn’t remember it later. All she recalled was falling face-first into the ground, scratching her hands and knees. Perhaps she did cry out after all, because just a few seconds later, a well-built man with huge, muscular arms appeared out of nowhere and knelt beside her.
“Here. Let me.” A gruff, breathy voice came, and Beth involuntarily cringed. Her flashlight had fallen out of her hands when she hit the ground and switched off, so she could hardly see the stranger’s face. It made her feel insecure and nervous. Her mind “helpfully” reminded her that a girl had gone missing on this very day. And although it was the worst-case scenario, there was a possibility that Sophia had been kidnapped, raped, or murdered by someone somewhere in this area. So it was understandable that being left alone with a man she didn’t recognize—someone she was sure wasn’t part of the search party—scared her to the point where she had to resist calling out for help. Beth was just seconds away from doing exactly that when he finally freed her foot from the snare. Her foot throbbed with pain, but she tried to ignore the wetness in her eyes or the way her throat closed, making it hard to breathe.
“Damn, girl. So many paths in here, and you had to take this one,” the man commented suddenly, making her cringe again at the deep, hoarse timbre of his voice. Even in the dark, she could see him shaking his head at her as if he thought it was all her fault.
Later, when Beth thought about this moment, she wasn’t sure what had kept her from standing up and trying to run away from the stranger. Instead, Beth just sat there looking up at him, searching his face in the dark like the stupid teenage girl she was.
“I heard someone screaming and wanted to help them. I didn’t think it would be so dangerous to run through the woods,” Beth explained in a tight voice, using all her willpower not to shiver under the measuring look he gave her. It seemed so intimate to sit here in the dark with him. And even though there was plenty of space, Beth felt as if the forest were closing in on them. It felt as if the man were caging her with his monstrous shoulders. He’s way too close, Beth thought to herself, knowing perfectly well that it wasn’t true. The man kept his distance. It was only her imagination.
All Beth got in response was a silent grunt confirming that he’d heard her, but nothing more.
The man stood up then and reached out to help her do the same.
“Come on. Let’s see if you can walk.”
Beth took his hand, ignoring the warmth that spread through her when their skin touched, and let him help her stand.
As soon as Beth found her balance, she let go of him—a huge mistake. When she put weight on her left foot and tried walking, pain shot through it again, and the man had to save her from falling once more.
Beth groaned softly, not even attempting to protest when the stranger gripped her under the arm and helped her lean on him for support.
“I don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, feeling more exhausted than ever, the throbbing in her foot making her dizzy. The warmth radiating from the stranger’s body didn’t energize her; if anything, it made her want to collapse and sleep right there, which was at least mildly concerning. She knew nothing about this man. For all she knew, he could be a psychopathic serial killer. That thought compelled her to speak: “My parents are somewhere in here. If you could just…”
Before she could finish, a scream rang out through the forest—different from the earlier ones. This one was louder, raw, and filled with anguish. It sounded as though someone’s heart was being ripped out of their chest. The sound made Beth shiver with fear. She looked up to see the man staring in the direction he likely thought the sound came from. His tense expression suggested he was considering what to do.
“Just go,” Beth said, though the idea of being left alone terrified her. It wasn’t that she suddenly trusted him, but he hadn’t hurt her so far. He’d done everything he could to help her, and unless he planned to take her somewhere else to kill her, he seemed like a decent person. Of course, her vivid imagination suggested there could still be a real psychopathic serial killer hiding among the trees. Staying with the stranger was probably safer—he could help her walk and get back to her family. But Beth wouldn’t be Beth if she didn’t care about others before herself. The man turned to her, and though it was dark, she could sense his questioning gaze. She added, “That person needs help more than I do.”
The scream echoed again, and Beth couldn’t tell if it was the sound or her words that convinced him. He nodded in the dark, then carefully extracted himself from her grip, moving slowly enough for her to adjust her footing without falling again. She was already planning her next move when his rough, smoky voice broke through the silence.
“Come on, then. Hop on.”
Beth furrowed her brow, blinking a few times before realizing he was crouched down, waiting for her to climb onto his back.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, it’s a serious piggyback. Jump up, girl. I ain’t leavin’ you here.”
So, she climbed onto his back, noticing for the first time the badass crossbow now resting on his chest instead of slung over his shoulder.
God, her father won’t be happy about this, Beth thought briefly. Won’t be happy at all—if I even see him again. She realized she didn’t even know the man’s name, yet here she was, trusting him to carry her back to her parents. But it was too late to change her mind. To distract herself, she tried starting a conversation.
“My flashlight. Aren’t we going to use it?” she asked. But the man had already started walking, and it didn’t seem like he had any intention of going back for it. His calm, steady movements surprised her; he had no trouble navigating the woods in complete darkness.
“Don’t matter. I can see just fine,” he said softly, so softly that Beth almost missed it.
“What are you, Daredevil or somethin’?” she joked quietly, letting out a nervous laugh. The man didn’t react.
“Don’t know who you’re talkin’ ’bout, girl,” he replied, his voice still low.
“It’s a character from Marvel comics. He’s blind but has superhuman senses, and he’s a superhero.”
The man grunted, following it with an annoyed huff. “I ain’t no damn hero.”
Beth went silent, realizing it might not be the best idea to keep talking. He didn’t seem interested, and she was too tired for small talk anyway.
Yet, despite the silence, Beth found herself oddly comfortable in his presence. Sure, it felt awkward being plastered to his back, his strong hands holding her legs to keep her steady. But there was something strangely comforting about it, too.
The man smelled like no one she’d ever been close to. Most of the boys from her school smelled like cheap body spray or sweat. This man carried the heady scent of leather, wood, motor oil, cigarettes, and something earthy she couldn’t quite place. If someone had described that combination to her before, she’d have thought it sounded awful. But as she breathed it in, Beth realized she didn’t hate it. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
Soon, they reached the source of the terrifying screams—and a cluster of flashlights. It turned out they weren’t the only ones who’d been drawn to this place, and they were among the last to arrive.
The brightness of the flashlights made Beth squint and blink several times before her vision adjusted. When it did, she wished it hadn’t. Her gaze immediately landed on the source of the sound: a woman cradling a small, lifeless body in her arms, screaming in agony. Beth’s throat closed up, and tears sprang to her eyes as she clung more tightly to the stranger.
The man, for his part, didn’t say a word or even flinch as they entered the clearing. He simply stood still, carrying her weight, while the scene unfolded before them. It was as though time had frozen in this awful place, where a mother’s world had just been shattered.
“Beth!? Mom, look, it’s Beth!” Maggie’s voice cut through the chaos, louder than anything else. Beth looked up to see her sister rushing toward her, their mother close behind.
The stranger jolted into motion, carefully setting Beth down before disappearing into the crowd without a word. Beth barely had time to process it, watching as he made his way to Carol. He didn’t hesitate, dropping down beside the grieving mother and wrapping her in a firm embrace.
It was then that Beth saw his back fully illuminated by the flashlights. A tremor of dread ran through her. The leather vest with wings on the back, and the name of the club written in bold white letters, left no doubt in her mind. The Feral Angels. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him—she’d rarely seen any of them up close. When she did, they were usually speeding past on their bikes, too fast to identify.
“Bethy! Where have you been? We’ve been so worried!” Her mother pulled her into a hug. Though her tone was distressed and nearly angry, Beth could sense her relief.
“I got my foot caught in a snare, Mom. What happened here? I heard screams…” Beth trailed off, casting a quick glance toward the stranger. She didn’t want her mother—or worse, Maggie—to pick up on the fact that she’d just gotten a piggyback ride from a Feral Angel.
“Your friend Amy and her younger sister found poor Sophia,” her mom said, her voice trembling. “Her mother just saw her and got hysterical. She couldn’t wait for the police—just threw herself on Sophia…” Her voice broke slightly as she added, “She was lying there on a bed of flowers, drenched in her own blood… Poor thing. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain Carol must be feeling right now.”
Her mom pulled Beth into another tight hug, and though she sounded distressed, her relief at having Beth safe was unmistakable.
As Beth leaned into the embrace, she glanced toward Carol. Despite the gathering thinning out—some people offering condolences before retreating to their homes—Mrs. Peletier remained rooted in place. The biker, the stranger who had carried Beth, stayed too, crouched beside her, an unmoving presence of quiet solidarity.
Were they lovers? Beth wondered. Her gaze lingered on them, noting Ed Peletier’s absence. Where was he? Had anyone even told him what had happened? And why wasn’t he out here searching for his own daughter in the first place?
Her thoughts were interrupted as her dad and Shawn emerged from the woods, their faces grim and concerned.
“What happened?” her dad asked, his voice steady but strained.
Beth opened her mouth, intending to explain about Sophia, but Maggie interjected at the worst possible moment, zeroing in on something Beth would have preferred to avoid.
“Wasn’t that Daryl Dixon giving you a piggyback, Bethy?” Maggie asked, her tone light but pointed, the kind of teasing that instantly made Beth want to sink into the ground.