𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚡𝚢𝚜𝚖 ➳ 𝚝𝚠𝚍/𝚜𝚙𝚗

8. Day 320 - 322

In the end, it hadn’t even been a fair fight. The plan was executed flawlessly, the Governor's men forced to retreat within three hours as Dean and his people pushed them back with a ceaseless onslaught of bullets. 

Beth had done a fantastic job of packing the cars that Dean and Michonne were using for cover with an assortment of guns, a substantial amount of ammo for each firearm, plus water and food so neither of them would have to come out from behind their ample cover.

Fortunately, there had been no injuries outside of a few scrapes and bruises.

When Rick took a group to go after the Governor -who had fled like the coward he was after murdering his own men in a fit of insanity- they had come back with the abandoned occupants of Woodbury. Apparently Andrea was dead, she had been bit and had been in the throes of a sweltering fever when they had found her. They did her a mercy, Rick putting a bullet through her brain to make sure that the woman would never become one of the walking dead.

So, in summary, not only did they have to take care of themselves, but now they had a whole community of sheltered folks to worry about too. They had their work cut out for them, that’s for sure.

“Dean! There you are! Come on, dad’s about to make an announcement!” Carl’s demand snapped the brunet out of his reminiscing, Dean rolling out of bed with a sigh.

“Do you know what the meeting is for?” The brunet inquired, curious as to what their leader was planning. Unfortunately, it seemed the boy was just as clueless as Dean, shaking his head.

“No, but I think Hershel does. He’s been smug all morning.” Carl pouted, unhappy about being left out of the loop. Dean ruffled the boy’s hair, chuckling when Carl squawked and ducked away with an exasperated scowl.

God, this kid reminded him so much of his little brother that his chest ached.

“We’re gonna find out what all this is about soon enough.” Dean assured, perking up when he spotted Daryl hovering in front of the barred door that led into the cafeteria. It looked like he was waiting, the brunet grinning when what exactly the younger redneck was waiting for occurred to him.

“Hey Daryl.” Dean greeted, the younger Dixon mumbling a low ‘Hey’ in return as he swiftly unlocked and opened the barrier that separated Carl and the brunet from the rest of the group. Dean was sure to thank the man as he passed through the threshold, pleasantly surprised when Daryl didn’t immediately brush it off like he usually would.

Carl led him to where the others were lingering, Daryl following behind like a silent shadow. Dean immediately spotted Rick, who gave him a respectful nod that he returned, trying to hold back his grin. These were his people and he felt that here, with them, was where he belonged. Rick surveyed the chattering group for a moment, probably checking to make sure they were all present, before rapping his knuckles on the metal table next to him, the noise quieting the room so that he could be heard.

“I know that I once said that this wasn’t a democracy, but now I need your help. I’m putting together a hierarchy that will assist me in keeping everything straight. Now, I’m not stepping back, I just can’t do this alone anymore.”

“Then don’t, that’s what we’re here for.” Dean blurted and Rick glanced at him, a grateful smile curling onto his lips.