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Dean was four years old the first time his world ended in fire and ash. He was thirty the next time it happened in war and blood. And he was still thirty when the world finally ended for good in death and decay.
That time, though, it happened for everyone else as well.
His family had died stopping one apocalypse, and after, alone and hopeless, Dean had driven backroads across the country and tried to figure out if Lisa and Ben would take him in. He made it all the way to their house, sitting outside in the dark like a creeper, before he decided that no, they wouldn't.
Because who could actually want the half-feral husk of a broken man he had become?
He regretted it now the dead were walking. When he had gone back to find them after, there had been nothing but an empty house left. No blood though. Some clothes gone. Cupboards emptied out. He could only hope they had survived.
There had been no one left to help him stop the second apocalypse.
No time to research. No time to prepare. One day, life was normal, and the next, the dead were walking. There were no signs. No warnings. No weird activity.
Just there and gone.
A fucking candle in the wind.
So he didn’t know if this civilization ending event was related to the first one, some last fuck you from the bastards they had somehow managed to beat — whether that be angelic or demonic — or if it really was a government fuck up that had spread the virus.
Despite the fact that Dean had killed him, sometimes he thought that this was Zacharial's revenge. He could still remember seeing the emotions in the angel’s eyes as he burned out; wrathful, furious, shocked. Zach had been smart, and petty. Dean didn't doubt he had some type of fail safe with the croats so that he could still win.
But that was Dean's paranoia talking, and either way, supernatural or government fuck up, it didn't matter because whatever the reason, the dead were walking. Stumbling around. Biting people. Spreading their virus. Like vampires. Like werewolves. Like every creepy crawly monster Dean had spent his life hunting.
Only this time he was outnumbered a few thousand to one.
It had been a long couple of months.
He had spent the first few weeks trying every spell, sigil and summoning he could think of while holed up in Bobby's. No one answered. Not one of those sons of bitches. Like they had pulled back and locked the doors behind them. They had finally left humanity alone, and all anyone could do now was survive.
And Dean had survived. No matter what.
Even when he didn’t want to anymore.
Maybe Cas was still somewhere out there looking after him. Considering some of the fucked up shit he had lived through, Dean thought it might actually be possible. But no matter how much he prayed, Cas never appeared. Fuck, Dean missed him.
And the world had gone to shit faster than even Dean had expected.
Psychos. Rapists. Murderers. Fucking cannibals.
He had put down who he had to and saved who he could. Kinda ironic that all the shit his dad had forced down his throat made him almost unkillable now. Kinda depressing that even at the end of the world Dean was still hunting.
He hadn’t tried to set up a community, not like he had in Zach's reality with the croats. Refused to stick around anyone for too long. He didn’t think he could face losing anyone else. And this world was built for nothing but loss. He tried to link people up where he could, trained them a little in how to stay safe, and then he sent them on their way.
Being alone was better.
Being alone was safer.
Being alone was all he wanted, now.
***
He was hunting for food when the little girl found him.
Two croats were chasing her, arms out as they tried to grab her. Their groans bounced off the trees along with her stuttered sobs. Dean had been using a crossbow the last few weeks; guns were too loud and bolts were easy enough to make. John had long trained him in every type of weapon and had drilled him in crossbows and bolts for a year when he was fourteen.
John might have been a bastard but he sure as fuck made it so Dean knew his way around every weapon available to him.
Dean didn’t wait for the croats to get closer; he shot the first one through the eye, reloaded with a grunt of effort, and shot the second one through its forehead. The girl kept running, straight into his stomach and started sobbing into his filthy t-shirt. Her little fists clung to the material, shaking violently.
Dean froze.
No one had touched him for longer than he cared to remember. He hadn’t let anyone get this close in months. It took him too long to realise that he should respond. He gently placed one hand on her blonde hair. It shone in the sunlight, damp with sweat. He didn't move. Didn't try to soothe her. Was just there. After a while, he felt the shuddering sobs slow down until she finally pushed herself off him.
She was young; maybe eleven or twelve. She had on cargo shirts and a blue t-shirt with a rainbow on it. They looked clean, well cared for. The same thinness that haunted everyone now scarred her face but she didn't look malnourished. She hadn't been alone long.
He was suddenly achingly aware of the beard on his face, the smell of croats guts on his clothes and the mountain man hairstyle he was sporting. Nothing about him screamed safe anymore. His very visible weapons cache — knives, guns, the crossbow, a goddamn machete — probably wasn't helping either.
She wiped her face dry but didn’t meet his eyes, instead hunching her thin shoulders in and curling her hands into her t-shirt. “Sorry,” she whispered eventually. Her voice was hoarse. The words shook like leaves in the wind. “I’m sorry.”
He crouched down; he used to hate when his dad towered over him when he was scared. “I’m Dean,” he said softly, partly because he didn’t want to scare her any more than she was, and partly because he hadn’t spoken since he’d saved that group of women a few days back and he knew his voice would be rough. “Where’s your mom?”
She shook her head and burst into tears again. “I don’t know,” she said around her quiet sobs. “We were on the highway and there were loads of crashed cars and then the walkers came and I tried to hide but they almost got me so I ran.” The words tumbled out of her, tripping over each other in their haste. “Rick found me and told me to stay put but more walkers came and I had to run. I had to. But I don’t know where I am and I don’t know how to get back to the road. I want my mom.” She sounded so devastated that Dean felt his stomach churn.
“Okay, sweetheart, okay.” He put his crossbow onto his back, settling it over his pack, and tried to smile like he used to when he was comforting Sammy. “I can get you back to the highway. What’s your name?”
“Sophia,” she whispered.
He nodded. “Have you been running for long?”
“I don’t know,” she said around a wobbling bottom lip. “I just ran.”
He reached into his leather jacket and pulled out the large bag of M&M’s he had found in an abandoned car the day before. “You eaten?”
She shook her head.
“Why don’t you nibble on them while we get you back to the highway, okay?”
It took her a minute but she finally accepted the bag. “Rick said to keep the sun behind me.”
“That gives us a direction to head towards,” he said even though he already knew the way. “Great work.”
She blushed and looked into the bag. “I haven't had chocolate since we left home.”
“Well, that's all yours then. I already ate my fill,” he lied. He had been saving them for a special occasion. Guess this was it. “You tired or you okay to keep going?”
“I want to get back,” she said, voice stronger than it had been so far. “I want to get back to my mom.”
“Alright then, soldier,” he said with another Sammy smile. “Let’s start marching.”
***
They’d been walking for a while when they heard the gunshot. It echoed through the forest, casting birds up into the sky with an explosion of noise. They both froze. They hadn’t talked since they started moving but Dean knew he would have to break the almost comfortable silence now.
“Would your group fire a gun?”
Sophia nodded.
“We can head towards that, or we can head to the highway.”
She just stared at him, eyes wide. There was a little bit of melted chocolate smudged on the side of her mouth and it made her look that much younger.
“I think we should head to the highway,” he said when it seemed like she wouldn't speak. “They’re probably looking for you. Even if that was them, they’ll head back to the road once it gets dark.” Dean didn’t want to mention that if it wasn’t them, it could be someone hostile. The shit he had seen these last few months; no way he was risking this little girl to it. “So, I vote highway.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“You okay?”
She nodded but she looked exhausted. Her skin was pale, eyes red rimmed, and mouth bitten to pieces. She was shivering slightly, probably from the adrenaline crash, and had been dragging her feet for a while. Dean should have said something sooner.
He took his crossbow and pack off his back and slung them across his front, shifting the machete sheath to the side so it wasn't hitting his face. His knives would be enough for now, and he had a gun if they were in real trouble.
He crouched down. “Hey, climb up.”
“What?”
“You’re tired. I’m not.” He did his Sammy grin again. “I can carry you, and with my long legs, I can get us to the highway even quicker.”
She stared at him for a long time before she nodded.
“You need to get down, you tap my cheek, okay? If you don’t want to speak, that's okay. I know what it’s like to not want to talk.”
She nodded again before wrapping her skinny arms around his neck. He hoisted her up onto his back and tried not to notice how goddamn light she was. This world wasn’t built for children. It wasn’t built for anyone. Not really. Not anymore.
They did move faster once Dean was the only one walking. Sophia wasn’t that much extra weight. Nothing he couldn’t grit his teeth through when he started to feel the burn in his thighs and the ache in his arms. It took him a while to notice she was asleep. He only did when her head dropped onto her shoulder and he could feel the puff of her breath across the side of his neck. It made her more of a deadweight but at least she wasn’t holding herself tense and scared anymore.
They reached the highway just as the sun was setting.
Dean was pretty sure he knew the traffic snarl she had mentioned. It was what had driven him from the road originally. He no longer had the impala. He had hidden her away near Bobby's when the worst of it had happened. Too much chance of her being damaged or stolen or destroyed. He didn’t want to risk her. Not that last piece of home that he had.
Now he mostly walked, sometimes he stole bikes or cars if the weather was bad enough, but he liked the freedom of it. One day he would get the impala back when the world had calmed down again and drive like he used to. Maybe the car wouldn't feel so fucking empty then.
He found the nearest mile marker, orientating himself before setting off at a brisk pace down the road. It took him another two hours to reach the snarl and by then full dark had fallen. He hadn’t seen any croats, or walkers as Sophia had called them; she had been able to sleep undisturbed.
There was no one waiting.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
If those bastards had left her behind, he would hunt them down and kill them himself. He looked around, pleased when he noticed the water truck, and then he found the note scrawled across a windscreen in white paint.
Sophia stay here. We will come every day.
There was a pile of food and some water waiting as well.
So, at least they hadn’t abandoned her completely.
The car was unlocked so he opened it and gently tipped the still sleeping girl onto the seat. She mumbled for a second and then curled into herself. He reached around and lowered the seat back so that she wasn’t sleeping straight up. He didn’t have a blanket so he shucked off his backpack, pulled out his leather jacket and then covered her with it. He shut the car door and sat up on the hood.
He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Not when he had a kid to protect.
***
The next morning, he heard the car door open but he didn’t move. If Sophia wanted to come out, Dean didn’t want to scare her. Dawn was just climbing over the horizon and he felt sick with the exhaustion. He couldn’t sleep yet though. Not until he got this little girl back to her mom.
She crawled out of the car slowly, arms wrapped around herself as she glanced around the road. She had put on his leather jacket; she looked so small in it, he almost wanted to cry. How was anyone meant to protect her in this new, violent world?
“Morning, sunshine,” he said with forced joviality. “Your momma left you a note,” he nodded at the windscreen, “and some food.”
She rushed around, eyes filling with tears when she read the words. “Do you think they’ll come back?”
“If they don’t, we’ll start looking for them. They can’t have gotten too far if they’re planning to come back every day.” At least he hoped as much. “You hungry?”
She nodded, wiping her eyes on his sleeve. “A little bit.”
“Alrighty. Let’s see what I can cook up.” He handed her a bottle of water. “Drink that for me, will ya? Think you’re probably dehydrated. I should have given you some yesterday.” He shook his head and pulled as silly a face as he could manage. “But I was just so thrilled to meet you, I forgot.”
She giggled and took the bottle. “I am a bit thirsty.”
“Knew it,” he said with an exaggerated sign. “I am a failure of a person.”
She shook her head, face suddenly serious. “You saved me.”
“Nah,” he said, starting to gather together tinder at the edge of the road. “You managed to outrun two walkers until you got to help." It was always easier to call the croats whatever the other person had named them; zombies, runners, fools, deadz, and now walkers. It kept people calm. "You saved yourself. I’m just a lucky shot.”
“Mr. Daryl,” she said, watching him as she slowly sipped her water, “uses a crossbow too and he can shoot a squirrel in the eye every time. I hadn’t eaten squirrel before all this but he shared it with us at the quarry.”
“That where you were before?”
“We were there for a while but then a herd came and my daddy, well,” she shrugged, somehow not looking particularly put out. “He was kinda mean to me and my mom.” She shook her head. “I’m not really meant to talk about that, about him.” She picked up some of her own tinder and added it to his pile without meeting his eyes. “Then we went to the CDC but that blew up. And now we’re here, I guess.”
“Lucky for me.” He set the tinder on fire and settled two cans of beans into the low flames. “I get a new friend and you get to try my famous lukewarm beans.”
“I like beans.” She hunched down beside the fire and warmed her hands over it. “We ate a lot of them at the quarry.”
He should have realised she was cold.
The air was still chilly with the sun only climbing its way up into the sky. Dew wet the grass around them and tendrils of mist clung to the trees. He rooted through his bag and pulled out his kettle. He poured some water into it and put it on the flames as well. He only had one cup so he put it on the ground and ripped open one of the few hot chocolate packets that he had left. Once the water boiled, he filled the cup and stirred it until the chocolate powder had dissolved.
When he looked up, she was watching him. Her eyes widened when he handed the cup to her.
“Careful now, it’s hot.”
“I can’t… I mean… It’s yours.”
He shook his head and pulled the tins of beans out from the flames. “Don’t like hot chocolate. Too sweet for me,” he lied. Again. He fucking loved hot chocolate. It was one of the first things he raided in every shop.
Ignoring her sceptical look, he ate his beans quickly, burning his tongue as he did. Once he was finished, he washed the spoon and put it in the other tin. He put that in front of her as well.
“For you as well. They're hot too. Don’t burn your tongue like I did.” He stuck his tongue out and she giggled again. “Need to slow down when I eat, I think.”
“Mama always says we’re meant to savour our food. She says it tastes better that way.”
Dean smiled softly. “Your mom sounds like a smart lady.”
Sophia beamed at him. “She’s really smart. Daddy always said…” she trailed off. “He didn’t think she was so smart but I always knew she was. She always made sure we had enough food, and no one saw… Well, no one saw. And she always helps me with my homework, or at least she did.”
“Not much homework now, eh?” Dean grinned. “That’s one benefit to the end of the world.”
She smiled again. “I like homework. I like learning things.”
“You and my brother Sam would have gotten on great. He went to college, was gonna become a lawyer.” Dean shook his head. “Smartest one of the family.”
“He died?”
“Before all this. Got caught in the middle of someone else’s family feud.” He cleaned the dishes they’d used with a mostly clean rag and dumped them by his backpack. He spent longer than he should sorting through it to make sure everything fit right. When he glanced back up Sophia was staring at him.
“I’m sorry for asking,” she whispered.
“Nah, you did nothing wrong.” He zipped up his bag. “Just makes me sad is all.”
“I don’t get sad about my dad being gone. Is that bad?”
“Hell no.” Dean had less than a half painted picture of the type of man her dad had been and he didn’t like it. “Some people aren’t worth being sad over.”
“I’d be sad if my momma died,” she said fervently. “I’d be so sad.”
“There you go.” He stood up and kicked dirt over the fire. “You wanna check if there’s anything left in these cars? Gotta fill up the bottles too.”
She glanced around, trepidation pulling her eyebrows together. “We were doing that when the herd came. That’s how I got lost.”
Yeah, that would definitely make her shoulders tense and her little face pale.
“We won’t split up,” he promised. “And you can keep look out on top of every car I search. Keep us safe.”
She bit her lip, staring up at him for a long moment before she nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Can I lift you up?”
She froze again. “I can just climb.”
“Alright. I’m gonna spot you though. Make sure you don’t fall.”
“You can hold my hand,” she said as she scrambled up onto the hood of the first car. She took the hand he held out and used it to guide her up onto the roof.
“Great work,” he said in a tone he hadn’t used since Sam had been at least three feet shorter and about twenty years younger. “So the thing you have to know about being on watch is not to focus too much on any one part of the scenery. You’re gonna carefully walk in a square around the roof, not too close to the edges now, and keep moving your head. Got it?”
“I can do that.”
He watched Sophia for a minute, making sure she was being careful as she walked up and down the roof. Once he was certain she wasn’t gonna fall off and hurt herself, he used his crowbar to open the trunk of the car. There wasn’t much in it; some clothes, a few tins of food, and some half empty bottles of water. He piled everything in the center of the road and moved to the next closest car. Once he got everything that was useful from the cars nearest to Sophia, he helped her off and they repeated the process for a few more hours. Once they finished, he helped her off her final car and started separating supplies into his pack and the school bag he had found.
“Books,” he said to her when she crouched down next to him. “Figured you could learn some stuff, if you wanted.”
She opened one of the books, flipping through the pages. “I think it might be too hard for me.”
“Nah, you’re super smart. And with your mom’s help, you’ll be flying in no time.”
“I dunno know if I’m that smart.”
“You can only try, I guess. C’mon, we better drink some water.”
He poured the stale water out of the bottles they had found and led her over to the water truck. Together, they filled the bottles. It was hot now. Too hot really. She still had his coat on but she had to be drowning in sweat at this point. The horizon was a hazy mirage and he doubted they would be able to see a herd before it was on top of them. But they had no choice but to hang around.
Her people had to come back for her. Searching for them in this much farmland could take weeks.
“Lunch?” he asked when they had drunk their fill and finished refilling the bottles. “I think I have more beans, and I might even have some chocolate pudding in my bag somewhere.”
Sophia’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Chocolate pudding is the king of puddings, Soph.” He didn’t know where the nickname had come from. Only that it fell out of his mouth as easily as if it had been Sammy in front of him. “I wasn’t gonna face the end of the world without it.”
She giggled again. “I’m a bit hungry,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to use up all your supplies.”
“Can always get mo—” he froze when the roar of a motorbike echoed down the road. Dean grabbed their bags and carefully took Sophia’s hand, pulling her behind a van and holding his fingers to his lips. “Any of your group have a motorbike?” he whispered.
“Mr Daryl does,” she replied just as quietly. “He drives in front of us.”
The roar of the engine cut off right by the car with the note. Boots hit the gravel with a rough jerk and a quiet curse echoed across the silent highway.
“Sophia?” A deep growl of a voice called quietly. “Ya momma sen’ me. She’s real worried. Ya here?”
“That’s Mr Daryl,” Sophia whispered, hand tiny as it gripped Dean’s fingers. “He’s with our group.”
Dean winked at her with a grin like his heart wasn't pounding in his chest before he called out, “Hey.”
The boots froze midstep. “Who're you?”
“Dean,” he snarked instinctively. “We’re coming out. Me and Sophia.”
“Keep yer hands up when ya do.”
Dean rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at Soph, just to make her smile, and slowly stood up with her held behind him. When they emerged from behind the van, a crossbow was pointed at Dean’s face.
He grinned and said with no small amount of sarcasm, “Heard you could shoot a squirrel through the eye every time.”
Daryl glared at him. “Sure as hell can shoot ya from here.”
“You sure could,” Dean said as he examined the other man.
He had on thick canvas trousers and a flannel shirt with ripped off sleeves. A leather vest settled over his broad chest. Dean couldn’t help but notice how thick his arms were. His dirty blonde hair was wet with sweat and grime. His eyes were sharp, fluttering between Dean and Sophia, judging him, and measuring the distance between them. His arm didn’t waver no matter how long he held up the heavy crossbow.
For the first time in a long time, Dean felt the stirring of attraction.
He pushed it away; that sort of shit didn’t matter now. Especially not with a man who had a weapon pointed at his head. Especially not after Cas.
He bit his lip, pushing the thoughts aside and evaluated the situation. He knew what he had to do but he wasn't totally sure he was making the right move. Except there was no way Daryl was gonna trust him, not until he was sure Sophia was safe. Maybe not even after.
“Soph, you wanna go over to Daryl and make him feel a bit more comfortable?”
She glanced between the two men, eyebrows furrowed. She shook her head. “I want to stay with you.”
Hands still up, Dean crouched down slowly, keeping his eyes on Daryl as he did. “Soph, sweetheart. Go on over to Daryl. He’s not gonna hurt me. He’s just worried about you. Right?”
Daryl nodded, lowering the crossbow slightly. “Just wanna ge’ ya back to yer ma. Not gonna hur’ anyone.”
Dean almost believed him. Except for the fact that although Daryl may have lowered his crossbow, he hadn’t taken his finger off the trigger. “Go on. I’ll be okay.”
Her eyes darted between them one final time before she nodded and walked over to Daryl.
“I’m okay, Mr Daryl,” she said once she reached him. “Look, Dean gave me a backpack and he found me some schoolbooks and gave me food and water. And his coat.” She held out her arm as if the oversized leather jacket wasn’t the first thing Daryl would have noticed. “I’m a bit warm but I liked it and Dean said I could keep wearing it until it got too hot.”
“Nice of him,” Daryl grunted. “Gonna head back to camp now. Say bye to your friend.”
“Yeah, man, no offence,” Dean said, slowly rising up from his crouch, “but I’m not letting her out of my sight until she’s back with her mom.”
Daryl shifted but didn’t bring the crossbow up. “If I brin’ ya back to camp, ya can’t leave until we let ya. Don’ know ya. Don’ trust ya.”
Dean ground his teeth together. He'd dealt with this before, and as much as he hated it, being around ppl, getting to know them, only to have to leave them again, he could do it if it meant knowing Sophia was safe.
“I’m not giving up my weapons.”
Daryl frowned. “Rick’ll decide tha’.”
“Please, Dean,” Sophia said quietly but with very little hope that she would actually get her way. “Please.”
That was what decided it for him. No kid should feel that hopeless. Even in the middle of the apocalypse. Especially in the middle of the apocalypse.
He nodded. “Alright, Soph. I can come with you.”
She grinned, brighter than any of the ones before. “And we can ride on Daryl’s bike, right?” She glanced up at Daryl. “No one is allowed on it but him.”
Daryl grunted and finally hung his crossbow off his shoulder. “Best get goin’. Your momma is missin’ ya.”
They all walked over to the gleaming Triumph parked by the edge of the road. It was a bit dusty, sure, but overall it was as well cared for as the impala had always been. He trusted Daryl a tiny bit more — not only had he come looking for Sophia by himself but he had a well-cared for crossbow and a bike he clearly loved. Things Dean could respect about a man.
Dean raised an eyebrow when he saw it. “Dude, this is nice.”
Daryl ducked his head and shrugged. “Ma’ brother’s.” He twisted his crossbow so it rested across his chest, unloading it as he did, before he threw his leg over the bike. “Girl, you sit behind me.” He pulled his belt free, and once Sophia was settled, he looped it around them both like a seatbelt and closed it. “Hold on the buckle. Tap me if ya need me ta stop.”
Dean climbed on behind them, barely managing to grip the seat before Daryl was off. He would have been pissed except for the roar of the engine, the power beneath him, and the wide road in front of him; it all reminded him of Baby. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.
Daryl's broad shoulders tensed just a little at the noise but he didn’t slow down.
They weren’t travelling for long. Barely fifteen minutes after they had climbed onto the bike and they were pulling onto a dirt road. It took another few minutes for them to reach what looked like, at least to Dean, a house out of a catalogue.
The white facade shone in the afternoon light. A wraparound porch with columns spaced evenly around it made the house almost regal. White lacy curtains hung in the big windows. Green fields stretched out behind it and flowerbeds gave pops of color to the front.
Way too nice a place for Dean to ever exist in. Maybe too nice for him to even exist beside.
People were running towards the bike; two men with the posture and general arrogance Dean recognised from every law enforcement asshole he had ever met, a woman with a shaved head that shone gray in the sunlight, a Korean kid, a black man, an old man, a blonde woman.
Felt like the start of a joke and Dean was the punchline.
“Mom,” Sophia screamed, waiting impatiently for Daryl to open the belt and then practically falling off the bike in the haste to get to her mom. Daryl steadied her before she could; a thoughtless touch of his hand that straightened her up before she could realise she was unsteady.
Dean got off the bike and took a step closer to Daryl. He nodded his head at the two men charging their way. “Pigs?”
Daryl snorted. “Yeah.”
“Fucking peachy.” He wrapped his hands in the strap of his crossbow, leaving them in full view of the cops and away from the two guns strapped on his waist, the machete on his back and the knives on his thighs. “You could have warned me about the cops.”
“Ya still woulda com’.”
Dean shrugged. “Wanted to make sure she was safe.”
“Watch out for the bald one,” Daryl said quietly as Sophia dragged her mom over to them. The pigs arrived at the same time. “Nice welcome home party,” he snarked as they pulled their guns on them. “That’s the third time you’ve pointed that thing at my head, you gonna pull the trigger or what?”
“I’m not gonna shoot you.” The man put his gun back in its holster. “Jesus, Daryl, you actually found her.”
“Who’s that?” The bald one asked, ignoring his friend’s relief and eyeing Dean. Those brown eyes held a look that Dean knew too well — a hunger for violence and a glee to deliver it. “Why’d you bring him back here, Dixon?”
Sophia glanced between the four men, eyes darting in the same way they had in the forest. Dean winked at her, pleased when the tension went out of her posture.
“Mom, this is Dean,” she said quietly. “He saved me from two walkers.”
Daryl and the bald cop were sniping at each other but Dean ignored them and smiled at Sophia's mom. “She did all the hard work. I was just in the right place.”
Sophia blushed. “He gave me chocolate, loads of chocolate, but not too much chocolate,” she said like she was afraid Dean would get into trouble. “And then he let me sleep in the car and made me breakfast. We were gonna make lunch but then Daryl found us. Oh, thank you, Mr Daryl. I forgot to say that.”
Daryl ducked his head again at the attention. “Just Daryl.”
“I’m Carol,” Sophia’s mom said to Dean. She was a classic beauty; all sharp edges and soft skin. “Thank you for looking after my girl.” Her voice broke but she recovered quickly with a cough. “Are you hungry? We were just about to eat.”
Before Dean could answer, the brown haired cop was breaking up the conversation by not so subtly edging his way into the circle. He didn’t even seem to notice that he had pushed Carol and Sophia out. Dean glanced at Daryl and saw that he had seen the slight too; his eyes were narrowed with disapproval.
Carol didn't react except to pull Sophia into her body.
“Hey,” the bald one said and both Daryl and Dean’s attention jerked back over to him. “Answer me. What the hell were you thinking bringing him back here?”
Dean did not like that tone one little bit. “I wasn’t leaving Sophia. Not like I gave Daryl much of a choice. Wanted to see her get back to her mom. Make sure she was safe.” He looked the bald one up and down. “She safe here, man?”
“You can go fuck yourself.” The bald man bristled. “Rick, we need to keep the camp protected. Lock him up. Decide what to do with him.”
Rick examined Dean with calm eyes. “You found her?”
“Two croats were chasing her. Killed them. Brought her back to the highway. Kept watch. Fed her. Returned her to Daryl.”
Rick nodded, expression calm but eyes picking up everything. “Why’d you want to come back here?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “You think I’m letting the girl I protected go for anyone but her mom? She might have trusted Daryl, she did trust Daryl, but no offence to him, I didn’t know him from fuck all.” Dean clenched his hands around the strap to keep them in place. He wanted to rest his hand on his guns like most of the camp were doing as they watched the conversation silently. “I’ve seen the worst of this new world. I wasn’t risking her.”
“Thank you,” Carol said into the silence that followed his little speech. “I’ll make you food. Something to thank you properly.”
“You don’t gotta. Got my own supplies. Gave Soph some too.” He nodded at the backpack on her shoulders. “Water. Food. Might find it useful.”
Sophia grinned. “He found me schoolbooks too, mom. I think they might be too hard for me but he said you could help. Will you?”
Carol’s expression softened into something so filled with love it made something ache deep in Dean’s chest. “Sure, baby. I can do that.”
“He seems decent,” the Korean man said. “I’m Glenn, by the way. That’s Andrea. Dale. T-Dog. Lori and Carl are in the house. Maggie, Beth, Hershel and Jimmy are in the house as well. Patricia too.”
“Shut the fuck up,” the bald one snapped. “Stop telling him how many of us there are. “
“That’s Shane,” Glenn said with a roll of his eyes. “And Rick.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Daryl said suddenly. He shifted when all eyes landed on him. “Brought him back. Makes him my responsibility.”
Rick nodded, one sharp movement. “Alright. Daryl will keep Dean with him. Attached at the hip, you got me?”
“Gotta park my bike,” Daryl said, clearly done with the conversation.
He jerked his head and Dean followed him, ignoring the argument that broke out behind him. Shane had some choice words to say about the situation. Dean ignored them.
Daryl didn’t bother climbing back onto his bike. He just pushed it slowly across the field, around the RV and camp to what had to be his tent. It was further out than the others, set up in a position where he was close enough to hear what was going on but far enough away that it wouldn't be overwhelming.
Dean immediately approved.
Daryl kicked down the stand and checked the bike over for marks. “You go’ a tent?” He didn't look at Dean when he asked.
“Yeah, but you sure you don’t wanna share?” He asked, smirking. “Keep the pigs happy?”
Daryl ducked his head again, a hint of pink across his cheek. “Stop.”
Thrilled with that result, Dean laughed. “I'll set up next to yours.” He lowered his pack onto the ground. “You’ll hear me if I try to do anything.”
Daryl grunted his acquiesce and sat down in front of his tent. “You sleep last night?”
“Nah. Didn’t want to until Sophia was safe. Once my tent is up, I plan on crashing for at least twelve hours.” His thigh muscles ached from hiking with Sophia on his back and his knee complained as he bent down to pull out his supplies. “Christ, I’m getting old.”
Daryl snorted. “Your wha’? Twenty five?”
“Well, thank you for that.” Dean grinned, posing with one hand under his chin. “I’m thirty. You?”
He didn’t look up from his crossbow as he spoke, checking the wires and pulling wax out of his bag. “Thirty three.”
“I would have guessed younger. Twenty three, maybe.”
Daryl gave him the finger. “Merle always says I’ve’a baby face. Wouldn’ shu’ up ‘bout it for years.”
“Merle?”
“Ma’ brothe’. Rick cuffe’ hi’ to the roof an’ he cut his han’ off to escape.” The more upset Daryl seemed to get, the more he dropped the ends of words. He still hadn’t looked up from his bow but he wasn’t doing anything with it. Just staring down at it. “Bu’ no one can kill Merle but Merle so he’s ou’ there.”
“Rick did what?” Dean snapped, heart thumping in his ears. “If anyone did that to my brother, I would have taken their goddamn head.”
Daryl shrugged. “Wen’ bac’ for him. Rick did. Was gone.”
Dean watched him for a long moment, saw how his shoulders got more and more tense under the attention, before he finally forced himself to look away. He dug his tent out from the side of his pack and threw it on the ground. It was only a tiny one man pop up, something to use for shelter if it was raining or he was staying in the same place for a few days. Mostly he preferred to sleep out under the stars. Easier to hear anything approaching.
His sleeping bag was tied to the bottom of his pack so once the tent was up with a lazy flip of his hand, he grabbed it off his pack and rolled it out. Daryl was watching him when he crawled out of the flaps but he glanced away quickly, so fast Dean just barely got a flash of blue. It struck him that he hadn’t seen Daryl’s eyes yet; the man always looked away or tipped his head at just the right angle to miss them. Dean, suddenly, desperately, wanted to see them.
This time he was the one to look away.
“I’m gonna sleep, man.” He sat at the entrance and took off his boots, lining them up so he could slip them on quickly if he needed to. “You’ll keep watch?”
“Attache’ at the hip,” Daryl replied with a smirk.
Laughing, Dean crawled into the tent and was asleep in minutes.
***
Dusk had fallen by the time he roused himself from a deep sleep filled with nightmares; Cas exploding, the crack of Bobby’s neck breaking, Sam falling into the cage, his mom on fire, and his dad lying lifeless on the hospital floor. Walkers interspersed the memories; stinking, rotting, bleeding, groaning.
He crawled out of the tent, shoved his feet back into his boots and squinted in the dim light. He shivered in the chill air. Sophia still had his jacket. He was pretty sure that it was her jacket now. He grabbed another flannel from his pack and shuffled over to the small fire Daryl had lit.
“Sophia brought ya food.” Daryl nodded at a plate resting just by the embers. “Migh’ be hot still.”
“Thanks, man. I’m starving.”
“Than’ Sophia and her ma.”
Dean grinned around the spoon in his mouth. “You catch the meat for this?”
He shrugged. “Wen’ this mornin’ befor’ I went to find Sophia. I was gonna fin’ her. I just had to get food fer everyon’ first.”
“Don’t need to explain yourself to me,” Dean said, stuffing a piece of bread into his mouth and talking around it. “I can already tell most of these people have no clue what to do when everything goes to shit. You have that look about you.”
Daryl eyed him suspiciously. “Look?”
“Like you know how to handle yourself.” Dean slurped down the last of his stew and put the plate down beside him. “You went searching for Soph.”
Daryl stared at the fire. “I didn't do anything Rick or Shane wouldn't have done.”
Dean snorted, not quite able to believe that. “Daryl, no one else was on that highway with you. You went searching for the girl alone and I bet you would have kept searching until you found her. Rick. Shane. Neither of them were out there looking.”
“Carl go’ shot. Rick’s kid. They had stuff ta do.”
Dean shook his head. “Bull. Sophia is just as important as Carl.”
“Shane…” Daryl trailed off, staring over at the big house with furrowed brows. The farm was calm, quiet. Most people seemed to have settled around the fire in front of the RV. The house lights shone like a goddamn light show in the falling dark. “Wen’ ou’ las’ nigh’. Medicine run or somethin’. For Carl. A farmhand wen’ wit’ him. He came back. Farmhand didn’. Said the walkers go’ him.”
Dean froze. “But?”
“Shane had the farmhand’s gun.” Daryl was staring at the fire, shoulders tense. “Shaved his head this mornin’. More aggressive toda’.”
“Guilty conscience.”
Daryl nodded.
“Watch out for the bald one?”
Daryl nodded again. “Yeah. Watc’ ou’ fer him.”
***
Daryl had a watch that night so Dean joined him on top of the RV around midnight.
He hadn’t had a chance to see if the others knew anything about keeping watch but Daryl at least knew what he was doing. He ignored the chair and walked the length of the RV, gesturing at Dean to do the same on the other side. Something had loosened in the man since he had admitted his suspicions about Shane. Like, as much as he would never admit it, he was relieved to not carry the burden alone.
Dean was happy to share in it; he knew how it felt to bend under the weight of secrets you never wanted to own.
The night passed slowly; neither of them talked but the company was still nice. Glenn came up to relieve them about four am, grumbling and half asleep. He fell into the chair, eyes scanning only one horizon.
“Hey,” Dean said, crouching in front of him. “You can’t sit on watch. You gotta move around the roof, all four corners, over and over. Need to be watching the whole camp. Not just part of it.”
Glenn squinted at him, clearly still half asleep.
“And you shouldn’t be doing it alone either. C’mon, up.” Dean stood up, grabbed his arms and pulled Glenn out of the chair. He nodded at Daryl. “Grab that, would ya?”
A tiny grin graced Daryl’s lip when he picked up the chair. “Gonn’ teach us all how ta survive?”
“Well, not you.” Dean smirked at Daryl and watched as he glanced away. He turned back to Glenn. “Should have two people on watch at all times. How are you gonna alert anybody if you do see something?”
Glenn blinked at him. “It might be too early for me to compute this.”
“Walk every corner of the van. Never stop moving. Head one eighty.”
Glenn nodded and repeated the words.
Dean grinned at him. “Good. Tonight is the last night you do it alone. We’ll do up a proper roster tomorrow.”
Glenn scrubbed his hand through the back of his hair. “Don’t think Rick and Shane will be too impressed with you taking over camp like that.”
“Just want to keep everyone alive.” He slapped Glenn on the arm and laughed when the man winced. “See you in the morning.”
Daryl snorted and followed Dean down the ladder, chair hanging awkwardly from his arm. They walked back over to their tents together, silent but comfortable. Dean glanced over once, watching as Glenn followed his instructions; a dark shape pacing back and forth, back and forth.
Daryl was watching him when he looked away. “What were ya before all this?”
“Drifter, mostly.” It was the easiest way to explain his life. “Travelled the country doing jobs with my brother.”
“But you did something else too.” He said it like it was fact. Like he could read it off Dean's skin, and hell, maybe he could. He'd already proven himself to be observant. “Somethin’ violent, I'd wager.”
“Like what?” Dean couldn't help but ask, curious despite himself.
Daryl shrugged. “Dunno. Act like some of the soldiers I met. Seen a war. Just ‘bout survived it.”
“All types of wars,” he finally said and then changed the subject with little to no finesse. “You think you’ll sleep?”
Daryl examined him for one more moment, not that he'd be able to see much in the dark and shrugged. “Be up at dawn to hun’.”
Dean laughed quietly. “Meaning I’ll be up at dawn to hunt.”
“Nigh’,” Daryl replied with a smirk in his voice before climbing into his tent and zipping it up.
“Night,” Dean replied after a long moment spent wishing he could climb in after the quiet man. See where the night might take them. Painfully grateful that Daryl hadn’t pushed him for more information. “Night, Daryl.”
***
Daryl did in fact wake Dean up at dawn with a kick to the foot. “Git,” he said as Dean scrubbed at his face. “Huntin’ time.”
“Fuck off, man.” Dean groaned and rolled over so his back was to Daryl. “I need sleep. It can’t be more than half six.”
“Half five.”
“You got coffee for me at least?”
Daryl snorted. “Not yer servant.”
He heard Daryl come into the tent and felt him crouch down beside him. The space was so small that Daryl's knees rested against Dean’s back; two warm pinpricks through the thin t-shirt he had ended up in, overheating in his flannel and canvas trousers. He didn’t move. Didn’t want to risk losing the tiny bit of connection.
“Can’t we just sleep in?” Dean asked into the folded up shirt he was using as a pillow. “Let the pigs hunt something.”
Daryl huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh. “They’re too loud. Scar’ the game off.”
Dean turned slowly, like maybe he was dealing with an easily spooked animal, whether that was him or Daryl he wasn't sure, and settled down on his back, staring up at Daryl’s blue eyes. There were flecks of green in them that kept the memories of other blue eyes away.
“You sleep?” he asked
Daryl nodded. “A bit. ‘Bout as much as you.”
“What we hunting?” Dean asked so he wouldn’t reach out and touch. Daryl had a wild sort of beauty to him that made Dean want to be soft with him, and he didn’t think his hands knew how to do that anymore. “Bear? Elephant? Cow?”
Daryl ducked his head but Dean saw the smile that tilted up his lips. “Squirrel. Rabbit. Maybe a deer if we get lucky.”
“Been a while since I got lucky,” Dean said with his own smirk.
Daryl rocked back on his feet, a flush of pink across those sharp cheekbones. “Ya comin’ or wha’?”
He dragged his eyes up Daryl’s arms and across his chest. “I mean, not yet.”
“Stop,” Daryl said, cheeks burning. “I’m givin’ ya five minutes.”
“And then?”
“I’m shootin’ ya.”
Dean laughed and sat up, bringing him even closer to Daryl. It wasn’t even intentional. Neither was how he heard Daryl take a short shuddering breath when Dean turned his head towards him, faces inches apart. He could feel Daryl’s breath on his lips. He closed his eyes and let the heat of him, the closeness, seep into his skin.
This time it was Dean’s breath that shuddered. Loudly.
Daryl moved quicker that Dean thought possible as he climbed out of the tent. “I’ll ge’ breakfast.”
Dean scrubbed his face with his hands and then screamed into them. Quietly. He hadn't felt anything like this attraction since before Hell. He didn't know if he liked it, or if he even wanted it. It felt sudden and overwhelming and too much.
“Fuck,” he muttered before he made himself get up, get dressed, and face the goddamn day.
***
They didn’t talk as they hunted.
Which honest to god suited Dean, because for once in his life, he didn’t have a smart quip or movie quote to release the tension that was building between them. Dean wasn’t sure if Daryl was angry at him, or interested in him.
Other than the weirdness between them, it was actually the nicest morning Dean had spent in months. He let Daryl lead which meant all Dean had to concentrate on was being quiet and holding anything that Daryl shot. He didn’t let Dean shoot anything, snorting the first time Dean offered and rolling his eyes before shooting a squirrel Dean hadn’t even noticed.
They saw no croats, heard no groaning or shuffling feet. The only noise was that of the forest; birds chirping, the rustling leaves, the musical flow of a nearby stream. If it wasn’t for the stench of death that saturated the world, Dean might have forgotten that it had ended. It helped that Daryl moved with a confidence that made Dean feel safe in a way he hadn’t in a long, long time.
He knew that he could protect himself, but after a few hours following the man, he knew that Daryl could as well.
Dean didn’t know why he trusted him, when he trusted no one anymore, not even himself. Especially not himself. Didn't understand why he wanted him so much, but he did, and he did.
It was the end of everything; Dean was done trying to rationalize his attraction to men. He had lost so much time with Cas because he had been so scared to just try. They had barely even managed a kiss. Cas hardly understood what he was feeling, being an angel of the Lord and all, and Dean hadn’t wanted to even consider what it meant about him, what he had been pushing down his whole life, to try and rush Cas along.
One kiss the night before the graveyard and then Cas was dead.
Now, Dean didn’t care about the bullshit his dad had filled his head with, and he didn’t care what anyone else thought about him, and he barely even cared what he thought about himself. He had hated himself ever since he crawled out of Hell. Liking boys wasn’t gonna add that much extra to his sundae of fucking self-loathing.
The only question was if Daryl was interested, and Dean wasn’t gonna rush him to give an answer. Just because Dean had become fucking zen or whatever about his queerness didn’t mean everyone else had. Shit, Daryl probably grew up hearing the exact same stuff that Dean had, and the apocalypse probably hadn’t changed the voices in his head.
And it had barely been twenty four hours. Just because Dean felt this weird instant connection and zing of attraction every time he looked at Daryl didn't mean that Daryl felt the same way. Hell, maybe Dean had just been alone for too long and was clinging onto the first safe person he had met since Michonne.
He pushed the thoughts away, and then for safety sake, he locked them in an iron box and threw away the metaphorical key.
The sun was high in the sky by the time they got back to camp. They had barely said two words to each other in all that time, but some of the tension had eased between them. Daryl led the way over to the fire. Dale was up on top of the RV, sitting on the seat and only looking in one direction. Dean tapped Daryl’s side and nodded up at Dale.
Daryl snorted. “Best ge’ that rota started.”
“Right after we feed the whole camp.”
Darly had already field dressed the mix of animals so all they had to do was deliver it to Carol at the fire and then they were free.
Only Carol insisted that they sit and eat food with a charm that was hard to deny. “This is going to make a great stew. Thank you,” she said as she took the meat from Daryl and then handed them both a bowl of thin broth. “Sorry there’s no meat. But there is some bread and cheese. Beth dropped some down. I’ll make you both up some sandwiches.”
“You don’ have ta,” Daryl said. “Sophia eaten?”
Carol’s face softened. “Yes, Daryl. She ate a sandwich and some soup. And now she’s doing the school books that Dean got her. I appreciate them by the way. And everything you have done for us.”
Dean shrugged, swallowing down the hot bowl of soup gratefully. The porridge Daryl had gotten them hours earlier was long gone and his stomach was growling. “She did most of the work.”
“And you have improved her confidence immeasurably by insisting that, trust me.” Carol handed them their sandwiches. “Glenn said something about setting up a proper watch roster. I would like to be on it. I think Andrea would as well. We don’t want to…” she trailed off as Shane stalked over to the fire.
“Where have you two been?” He snarled. “And why are you feeding him?”
“Hey,” Dean snapped. “Don’t talk to her like that.” He didn’t like the way Carol had shrunk when she had seen Shane coming and he liked it even less the way she curled her shoulders like she was trying to make herself disappear when he had shouted at her. “Have a little respect.”
“Don’t you talk to me about respect, boy. I’ll have you on your ass quicker than you can think.”
Dean put his sandwich in his empty bowl and stood up to his full height. He was a couple of inches taller than Shane and he could see the twitch of annoyance when Shane realised. Sudden warmth graced his back; Daryl had stood up too.
“How about this, Five-0? You start treating everyone in camp a little goddamn better and I won’t put you on your ass, sound good?”
Shane jerked forward, fists twitching and mouth curled up in a snarl. “I’ll fucking—”
“Shane,” Rick called out, striding down the stairs of the big house. He had his hand on his gun and a concerned expression on his face. “What’s going on?”
Shane took a step back and swallowed all that rage down, burying it some place where no one would be able to see it. Where Rick wouldn’t be able to see it. It was obvious to Dean, in his bunched muscles and his wild eyes, and he was pretty sure it was obvious to Carol and Daryl. And not just because they had seen behind the mask.
“Hey, guys,” Rick said, slightly winded from rushing across the long garden. “Everything okay here?”
“Just dandy,” Dean said with his most sarcastic smile. “Daryl and I were just talking about setting up a watch rotation. Get two people up there at all times. Remove the chair. Train people in how to do it proper.”
Shane scoffed. “You’re not part of this camp.”
“Great,” Dean said. “I’ll be on my way then.”
He had only taken one step before Rick had his hand up. “You know we can’t let you go. You seem like a good man, Dean, but we don’t know you.”
“Well, I’m not staying here when y’all are walking around with your heads up your asses.” Dean gestured to the open fences. “There is no protection here. No walls. Nothing. You don’t just have zombies to worry about. You have people too.” He glanced over at Shane and he knew from the way Rick’s eyes narrowed that he had noticed. “You might be willing to risk your group's lives but I’m not.”
Rick nodded. “Fine. Set up your watch, but Shane’s right, this isn’t your camp. It isn’t really our camp. This is Hershel’s farm and he’s already pissed that we’re here. He wants us all to hand in our weapons.”
Dean laughed. “He can come and take it from me.”
“Dean.”
“Rick. It’s a goddamn apocalypse,” he said with all the sincerity he could muster. “Watch me hand over my weapons while the dead are walking.”
Rick put his hand on his belt buckle. “My son needs to stay here to recover. Hershel said that there’s been no walkers here. We’re safe here.”
“There is no safe, Rick. Not anymore. If Hershel wants to have a conversation with me about my weapons, he is more than welcome, and I will tell him all about the fucking cannibals I met coming into Georgia.”
Rick’s face paled. “Cannibals?”
“We’re less than two months into this thing and people are already eating other people,” Dean hissed, suddenly aware that Sophia was only behind the thin door of the RV. Daryl’s hand landed between his shoulder blades and the sudden warmth took a little of the edge off his anger. “Walkers are only the start of our problems. I’ve seen women…” he shook his head, a lump choking him. “My weapons are non-negotiable and yours should be too. There is no more safe, Rick. Let go of the idea.”
Before anyone could reply, he stalked off, sure that Daryl was only a few steps behind him.
***
Dean stalked down the length of the stables, throwing himself down on a bale of hay and leaning his forearms on his thighs. He stared down at the wooden floor, covered in dust and straw and dirt. Daryl’s mud-stained boots appeared in his eyeline. A rough hand landed on his head. Blunt nails scratched over his scalp; Dean fought back the shivers rolling up his spine.
The touch was everything he wanted and too much all at once. He had no idea how Daryl could be so comfortable with it when he knew, just from watching how he interacted with the rest of the camp, that he didn't like to be touched. He kept a distance, moving subtly enough that he was always out of touching range, out of grabbing range.
Dean wondered if Daryl's dad had taught him that particular skill. Like John Winchester had taught it to Dean.
“I was driving when it started,” Dean finally said. “Had been for a while. Drifting. Everyone I loved was dead so I just drove.”
Daryl took his hand back and crouched down in front of him. “What did you see?”
“So much fucking bullshit, man.” He closed his eyes, avoiding Daryl’s gaze, even though his eyes were narrowed enough that Dean couldn’t see them properly. “Those first few weeks, people went insane. I walked into a clearing one night and there were these three guys eating a woman. Eating her.
“One of the dudes was still in a suit. Like these were just normal guys when the world was functioning, and the minute they were able to take the leash off, boom, fucking cannibalism.” He scrubbed his hands over wet eyes. “And she was naked, man. Messed up. They had raped her, and then eaten her.”
He tried to swallow down the bile crawling up his throat but he failed and gagged instead. Daryl shot back as Dean vomited up the remains of his lunch. His stomach ached as it rebelled against the truth that had been suffocating him for months now. He spat once he was sure he had gotten everything up and then lay his head back on the bales stacked up behind him. The hay scratched his neck and scalp; it wasn’t nearly as pleasant as Daryl's rough touch had been.
Daryl walked back over, kicked straw, dirt and sand over the vomit, and then sat down next to Dean. “Wha’ else ya seen?”
“More murder. More rape. Some slavery. A dude up north had tied up his croat daughter in his back room and was running a town like it was nothing. Acting like some sort of hero. Blocked up the town. Couple of guards on top of the wall. Townsfolk pretending like the world hadn’t ended.” Dean glanced down at his hands to make sure he couldn’t see the blood smeared on them. “Put his daughter down. The heads of his enemies that he had in fucking fishtanks. Killed him. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch. Was the right thing to do. Left some women in charge of the town. Made sure they knew what they were doing.”
“Ya didn’t stay?”
“Been down that path,” he muttered, thinking of the future world Zach had shown him. “I don’t want to lead. I don’t want to be in charge of someone. A partner, maybe. I did that before with… Well, I’ve worked with…” He shook his head. “I dunno if I would again. Too easy to lose people.”
“Merle lef’,” Daryl said suddenly. “Coulda come back to camp. Coulda found me. But even in the middle of all of this, he left me.”
Dean nudged his shoulder. “Fuck ‘em. Leaving us behind to bury them.”
Daryl huffed out what could have been a laugh and what could have been a sob. He was silent for a long moment and then he said, “We need to sort out the camp. Can’t keep leaving it ta chance.” He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. “Everyon’ moves in pairs. No ‘ceptions.”
Dean stared at the long lines of Daryl’s throat, fascinated. He swallowed; his throat dry and rancid after the vomiting. “You think they’ll accept that?” he asked after a too long pause. “I’m a stranger, and you’re a redneck.”
Daryl huffed out the noise Dean was starting to recognise as a laugh. “Pfft.”
“Dean?” Sophia stood at the entrance to the stable, looking around at all the horses Dean hadn’t even noticed until now. Some situational awareness he fucking had. “Are you okay? I heard shouting.”
“All good, Soph.” The place smelt like horse shit, and fresh hay. Barely a hint of his lunch splattered at his feet. “Don’t suppose you have any water on you?”
She shucked off her backpack and rooted through it until she pulled out a bottle. She walked over to them and gave it to him. “I thought that I should keep it with me,” she said, pointing at the strap. “Just in case anything happens.”
“That’s real smart, Soph,” Dean said, glancing down to make sure the vomit was hidden. “But make sure you’re refilling your supplies every day; fresh water and fresh cans. Clean clothes. I’ll get you a knife. Daryl and me, we’ll show you how to use it.”
Sophia’s eyes widened. “A knife?”
“Be good fer ya,” Daryl said. “Keep ya safe.”
Dean gargled some of the water and spat it out before swallowing the rest of the bottle. “Hey, so, no one is going anywhere by themselves from now on, okay? Want to keep everyone safe.”
“I can stick with my mom, or stay in the RV with whoever is on watch?” she asked it like she wasn’t sure if that was the right answer.
Dean nodded. “That’s a good plan, kid. You’re really smart, you know that? Plans. Thinking ahead. Looking out for yourself.”
Sophia blushed, and then shrugged. “My da—” she shook her head. “Thanks,” she finally whispered.
Dean glanced over at Daryl. The other man had a furrow between his eyebrows as he stared at Sophia.
Dean sighed. “Let’s gather everyone up. Have a little meeting.”
“Are we inviting Beth and Maggie? Maggie owns one of these horses, so does Beth.” Sophia glanced over at the horses, longing scrawled across her expression. “I never saw a horse before coming here.”
Daryl stood up and waved at her. “I’ll show you how to pet them, if ya wan’?”
“Really?” Sophia’s eyes widened but she broke into a wide smile. “Yes, please.”
Dean watched as Daryl guided Sophia over to the closest horse, a black mare that snorted the closer they got. Daryl stroked her nose, muttering words Dean couldn’t hear, until the horse stopped its huffing and calmed back down. He reached out his hand and took Sophia’s, softly, gently, and guided it towards the animal.
“Gentle,” he whispered as Sophia stuttered a little when she touched it. “It’s more scared of you than ya are of it.”
Sophia giggled when the horse breathed out on her hand. “Oh,” she said with another one of those bright grins. “It’s so soft, but not.”
“Maybe one of ta girls will let ya ride one.”
“Really?”
“Dean’ll ask.”
Dean snorted. “Sure will. I’ll persuade them.” He stood up slowly so as not to freak out the horse and dragged more straw over the stain on the ground. “Let’s go call that meeting. Get everyone safe.”
This time he followed Daryl and Sophia from the barn.
***
It took a few hours to get everyone gathered in Hershel’s sitting room. Half of that time was spent convincing the old man to let them into the house at all, and about the importance of the meeting itself. But eventually they were all there, sitting on the couches and armchairs, leaning against the walls and in Shane’s case against the staircase, arms crossed and a sullen glare on his face.
Rick was standing behind Lori’s chair, and man, it had taken long enough to get both of them away from a still unconscious Carl. Eventually it was only Hershel’s insistence that the boy was sleeping, and Carol leaving Sophia with him, with a promise to call them if anything changed, that got them to come.
Dean has been properly introduced to everyone as they came into the house and he figured he had a good enough read on all of them. Was pretty sure who would give the most resistance and who would be willing to change.
Rick, Shane and Hershel were his biggest obstacles.
“Right,” Dean said when everyone had finally shut up. “I know you don’t know me, and some of you definitely don’t like me, but I’m here to tell you that you are being goddamn stupid.”
“Son,” Hershel said with the authority of a preacher. “I won’t have the Lord’s name taken in vain in this house.”
Dean managed not to roll his eyes. “Dead are walking. Pretty sure God has abandoned us. But—” he said loudly when Hershel opened his mouth again, “this isn’t a time for a philosophical discussion on whether or not angels are giant dickbags. Which they are by the way.”
Daryl coughed, not loud but enough to drag Dean back on track. Hershel glared at them both but he didn't say anything else.
“Anyway,” Dean continued, “you’re all acting like the worst thing out there is the walkers. It’s not.”
Shane scoffed. “And what should we be more worried about then the flesh eating monsters?”
Dean shrugged. “The flesh eating humans for one.”
Everyone froze.
“What?” Glenn exclaimed, eye wide. “What the fuck?”
The blonde girl, Beth, sobbed, only once, before burying her head into a soft looking pillow.
The whole room was soft; pale colors; old, worn couches with blankets over the back; way too many cushions; soft rugs over dark wooden floors; picture frames of family members going back generations. Generations had come through that front door. It had a history Dean would never understand, would never experience. He kind of hated it.
Maggie wrapped an arm around her, shooting a glare Dean’s way. “Could you please think before you speak?”
Carol stared at him horrified. She opened her mouth and closed it again.
When Dean just stood there, not taking it back, not denying it, tension, thick and uncomfortable, settled over them all like a too heavy blanket on a summer’s night.
“You can’t be serious,” Andrea finally said. “You can’t actually think that’s true.”
“Saw it with my own eyes,” he said gruffly, swallowing down bile. “Three men. One woman. And they hadn’t just eaten her either. The shit I saw out there. Sometimes the walkers were the easiest part.”
Dale took off his hat and curled it up in his hands. His face was pale and his mouth was slack. T-Dog stood frozen beside him, face stricken.
“Bullshit,” Shane snapped. “No one turns into a monster that quickly. No one.”
Dean stared at him, long and hard, until Shane glanced away. When he looked over, Rick’s eyebrows were furrowed again like again he hadn’t missed that exchange but his expression said he still didn't understand what was going on.
Dean raised an eyebrow at him.
Rick stared back for a long moment before he said, “What exactly do you suggest?”
“Two people on watch at all times. Proper watch. Not this sitting down, half asleep shit. Perimeter patrols as well. Nobody goes off alone. Ever. Two people together at all times. Even if you’re taking a dump.”
Andrea scoffed. “Charming.”
He ignored her. “We’ll switch up partners. Make sure everyone knows how to take care of every part of camp.” Dean hated the feel of all those eyes on him. Not quite trusting but not not believing him. “Kids get two adults. Can’t buddy with a kid. Me and Daryl are already attached at the hip, by orders of Rick.” He pulled out the sheets of paper he and Daryl had spent an hour working on earlier in the afternoon and laid them on the table. “Chores. Patrol. Shooting practice. We’ll be using the crossbows for now. Easier to make new bolts.”
Shane strode over to the paper and ripped it up. “Why am I on cooking duty three times a week?”
“Everyone pulls their weight,” Dean said. “Everyone learns to protect themselves and everyone does the chores. There are no slaves here. No servants either. No gender roles. No bullshit.”
“Here, here,” Maggie said. “I’m certainly not cleaning up after the menfolk while they protect the homestead.”
Patricia coughed delicately. “I would prefer to be in the kitchen than out in the hot sun.”
“Look, I’m not going to make you do any of this,” Dean said. “These are just suggestions — important, necessary suggestions — but you can choose to do whatever you want. You all just need to be aware of how dangerous this world is.” He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes darting over to Daryl for a minute. He nodded, tiny and barely perceptible, but there. The simple movement settled something in Dean's chest. “We’re completely exposed out here. We need fences. Better fences than the ones we have.”
“You are guests on my land,” Hershel snapped. “I decide what changes we make to it.”
Dean swallowed back his scream of frustration. “And I assume you don’t want to put up higher fences. Keep any monsters out.”
“Those people are sick,” Hershel snapped.
“Yeah, I wasn’t talking about the croats.”
Everyone looked uneasy at that.
“Me and Daryl will take first watch tonight. Dale and Andrea take the second. In the morning, we’ll meet again. Anyone with any ideas on how to improve this plan can let me know then.”
“This is a lot of demands considering you strolled into camp yesterday.” Rick stared at him, hands curling on the back of Lori’s chair. “We’ve been doing just fine.”
Carol snorted and then looked shocked that she had.
Rick glanced over at her. “If you have something to say, now is apparently the time.”
Carol seemed to instinctively shrink in on herself but then she met Daryl’s eyes and straightened back up. “Just fine?” Her voice was quiet but strong. “We barely survived the quarry. A lot of us didn’t.” She glanced over at Andrea and back to Rick. “The CDC was a deathtrap. Ford Benning almost lost me Sophia. Dean is right. We’re all acting like this is some extended vacation and it’s not. It’s not.” She stood up abruptly and left the room on silent feet.
She didn’t leave the house though so Dean let her go.
“Everyone read the plan. Sleep on it,” Dean said into the silence that followed Carol's exit. “We can meet up again tomorrow and make any adjustments people think we need to.” He nodded to the room, and left.
He didn’t admit it to himself but relief flooded him when Daryl followed.
***
The meeting the next morning wasn’t much better.
Hershel didn’t think he should have to take precautions on his own land; didn’t believe that he wasn't safe. He also didn’t want anyone in the house mixing with the group anymore. Filling their heads with stories about monsters. Wanted the whole group gone as soon as Carl was healed up enough to travel.
Dale didn’t want Andrea spending more time with Shane; he didn’t say that in so many words but the implication was clear which pissed off both Andrea and Shane. Carol wanted to be paired up with Daryl or Dean. Rick wanted the people closest to camp to have the freedom to move around alone and keep the ‘stronger’ people to patrol the perimeter. He didn’t think the other jobs needed to be split so eveningly.
Not one of the women liked that.
Once the argument between Rick, Andrea, Shane and Maggie faded into silence, Glenn said, “I think it makes sense that everyone learns every part; doing runs, keeping watch, killing walkers, the running of camp, how to stretch out supplies. If someone gets separated, they’ll need that to survive, and if someone dies, we need people to be able to step into their position. It's just good planning.”
Dean stood in the corner, watching the discussion. He was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed the Greene family tensing when Glenn mentioned killing walkers.
“There’s got to be a compromise here,” Dean finally said. “Glenn’s right. Everyone needs to know every part. For your own protection as much as everyone else’s. Can you guarantee,” he said, glancing between Rick and Shane, “that you can be all places at once? Protect everyone all the time?”
Andrea snorted. “They definitely can’t.”
“We’re doing our best,” Rick said. “Me, Shane, Daryl, T-Dog, Dale. We are protecting everyone to the best of our ability.”
“And why, pray tell, do you think it’s the men’s role to protect the women?” Andrea snarled. “You think we don’t have a right to learn how to protect ourselves? If what he says is true,” she jabbed a finger in Dean’s direction, “then we have a hell of a lot more to be worried about than walkers.
“And we,” this time she gestured to the women in the room, “have more to worry about than any of you men do. You can’t be there to protect us all the time. You certainly weren’t there when walkers killed my sister or when Sophia had to run into the forest to escape. What would have happened if someone other than Dean had found her? What would they have done to her?”
Carol stood up abruptly and left the room again. Two out of two. Dean was just hitting all of her triggers. Fuck.
Andrea’s lips thinned and she crossed her arms but she didn’t take back what she had said.
Rick looked pale. Lori was visibly shaking. Beth was sobbing again.
Hershel glared at them. “I don’t want this sort of talk in my home. If we give into hate, we are already lost.”
“Ain’ ‘bout hate. ‘Bout reality.” Daryl leaned against the wall between two windows, arms and legs crossed. He had knives strapped to both of his thighs and his crossbow hanging over his shoulder. “Don’ matter what your God preaches if the people coming at ya ain’ never believed in Him to begin with.”
Hershel thinned his lips. “I will not lose my faith now, son.”
“Not your son,” Daryl said, curt but not aggressive. That was written all over his body.
Dean shifted, one foot and then the other. Daryl caught the movement like he was meant to and relaxed back into the wall.
“End of the day, you need to learn to protect each other and yourselves. If you don’t want to,” Dean shrugged. “I’m only here until I’m not and then you’ll be back doing things whatever way you want.”
“I want to learn,” Andrea said.
“Me too,” said Carol from the doorway by the stairs. “I want Sophia to learn as well.”
“Carol,” Lori said, sounding aghast. “You can’t mean that. She’s a child.”
“She almost died once because she didn’t know how to survive. I don’t ever want her to… If someone gets her… If someone is going to hurt her…” She shook her head. “I want her to always be able to fight back, and to know even through the worst experiences, through the worst that men can do to her, that she did everything she could to defend herself.” She scrubbed her eyes roughly. “If I can’t stop the harm happening to her, I want to know I did everything I could to prepare her to protect herself.” She finally met Lori’s eyes. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” She left the house with a sharp click of the front door.
Dean glanced over at Daryl but he was already moving. “Glenn,” he said, once Daryl had shut the front door again. “Daryl said you were strongest at runs. Would you be willing to train people? One at a time. Maggie, you’ve done runs as well, right?”
Maggie nodded, ignoring the glare from Hershel.
“Would you be willing to help him? I really do want to set up the buddy system. Two people together for every one being trained.”
“Yes,” Maggie said definitively. “If it’ll help keep people safe, I’ll do it.”
“Glenn?”
He nodded, looking a little dopey as he dragged his eyes away from Maggie. “Yeah. I also want to learn to shoot though. I can but I don’t have much experience.”
Dean nodded. “That we can do.” He looked over at the Greene family. “Does this place have another way in and out? Or is it just the front road?”
Maggie glanced over at her dad before she said, “There’s a road through the trees. We built it so we’d have easy access to the Miller’s farm during planting season. To help each other out. There’s a gate.”
Dean nodded. “Let’s move the vehicles to the back of the house, facing that gate. Keys in the ignition. Enough food and water to last us two weeks on the road.”
He ignored the jolt of lightning down his spine at the realisation he was including himself in the planning. He wasn't staying. He was just doing what he always did — helping people learn how to survive and then he would leave again.
“Lori,” he said, “can you figure out how much food and water we’d need and make sure we have enough?”
Lori’s eyes widened a little at being addressed but she nodded decisively. “Me and Patricia can do that.”
“Keep the water fresh, okay?” When she nodded, he said, “Jimmy, can you make sure that each of the vehicles have spare gas?”
Jimmy nodded. “Sure.”
“We’ll be doing shooting practice every morning. Mandatory. Kids as well as adults.”
“Son,” Hershel interrupted.
“Not your son,” Dean snapped back. “Look,” he finally faced Hershel. “The quicker these people can survive out there, the quicker we’ll all be off your land. And a God fearing man like you isn't gonna send a bunch of women and children out to die, now are you?”
This time Hershel was the one to storm out. Patricia followed him with a shake of her head.
Shane finally broke his silence. “I’m not cooking. I’m not cleaning. I’ll teach shooting. I already know how to do runs.”
Dean made sure to keep his voice as friendly as possible when he said, “We appreciate you being willing to teach people how to shoot. Since you won’t be cooking or cleaning, you won’t be eating with the group and no one else will be doing your laundry. You can do your own runs for food as well.”
Shane bristled. “Go fuck yourself, man. Carol, Lori, Patricia. They’re good at that sort of thing, cooking and cleaning.” He took a step forward, arms crossed and biceps bulging. “Dividing the labour to people’s strengths makes sense.”
“There are no fucking servants in this camp,” Dean snapped back, “or was I mistaken about the type of people you are?” He straightened up and knew they could all see the danger coiling its way through his posture. “Was I mistaken? Because then this is a very different conversation we’re having.”
Rick stepped forward. “Alright, let’s all calm down. Dean is making some good points. We do all need to know how to survive. But Dean, Shane is right too. We need to divide the jobs to people’s strengths. Carol knows how to cook. She’s happy to do it.”
“Have you actually asked her if she wants to cook for the whole camp three times a day, and do everyone's laundry in between?" He looked around them all; some of them glanced away from the anger in his expression. He hoped they were ashamed. “Because as far as I have seen, she’s the only one doing any of that in this camp. Lori has been with Carl. Patricia cooks for the house. Not the camp. Shane? You haven’t done a single watch since I got here.”
“I’ve been keeping the camp safe in other ways,” Shane snapped back. “Looking after Lori and Rick. Checking maps to see where is safe to go next.”
Dean sighed. “And you think that’s keeping people safer?” He glanced over at Rick. “I understand your son got shot. How hard that has been on both of you. You’re doing your best but, Rick, the rest of them can’t sit around waiting for you to get back on top form and lead them. They need to be able to rely on themselves.”
Rick stared at him, eyes narrowed as he took in the sincerity in Dean’s tone, before he nodded. “You’re right. Everyone needs to be able to look after themselves in every way. We can draw up the roster like you said, get people training.” He ran a hand over his face, looking suddenly exhausted. “I’ve got to go check on my son.”
Shane glared at him, and then Lori, as they walked past him, and then he slammed his way out of the front door. Silence settled on the room again. Dean was suddenly exhausted.
“Anyone have any experience with making rosters? Keeping a group running?”
Glenn held up his hand. “I was a supervisor in my old job.”
“You were a pizza boy,” T-Doy said with a smirk. “I was a youth organiser with my church. I can wrangle people.”
“Can you two work together? Figure this out? Partners, runs, cooking, laundry, watch, perimeter checks, shooting lessons, and anything else you can think of?”
Glenn glanced over at T-Dog who nodded.
“Yeah, we’ve got this,” Glenn said. “We’ll have it to you by this afternoon?”
“Make it tomorrow. Get input from Carol on cooking and laundry. Maggie on any farm chores that they might need help with. Hershel, if he’ll talk to you. Daryl will need to plan around his hunting. Ask if he’s willing to teach people, okay? And then anyone else who wants to contribute. Everyone gets a voice, okay?”
T-Dog nodded. “We’ll catch up with you after lunch tomorrow. You and Daryl will probably be hunting again?”
Dean nodded. “After lunch is good.” Just as everyone was starting to get up, he said, “Oh, and Maggie?”
“Yeah?”
“Better if you keep the lights off after dusk. Damn house is like a beacon in the dark. Makes it harder to keep watch, and will draw in humans and walkers.”
Maggie stared at him, mouth agape for a moment, before she finally snapped it shut and nodded. “We’ll keep them off.”
Beth nodded. “I’ll talk to daddy and Patricia. Make sure they understand.”
“I can help with the chores list,” Jimmy said. “I’ve been working here since I was twelve.”
“Great.” Dean walked over to the front door, hand on the handle, before he looked back. “I know you’re all exhausted. I know it has been one thing after another since this all began, but I swear to you, I swear to you, I’m gonna do everything I can to keep you safe.”
He left before any of them could reply. Daryl and Carol were sitting on the porch steps, and although he nodded at them, he kept walking. He wasn’t shocked when Daryl fell into step behind him, following him back into the forest.
***
Daryl sat next to him in front of the lake. They were hidden by long grass, and surrounded by Cherokee roses. The water lapped at the muddy shores. The blue sky seemed to stretch on above them forever, and the sun’s hot rays burned the back of his neck where his head was hanging between his knees.
“Ya okay?”
Dean wasn’t sure what he was going to say until the words poured out of his mouth. “I’m tired, man. I’m tired of this job, of the killing, of all those evil sons of bitches. I spent my whole life fighting evil, dragged across the country by my obsessed father, and now, here at the end of the world, I’m still fighting to protect the little good humanity has. I thought—” he trailed off and stared at a dragonfly zipping across the surface of the water. “I really thought that everything I had seen was the worst of it.
“I thought that everything I had done in…” He couldn’t say Hell because that would make him sound insane; everyone who knew the truth about his past was dead and buried. “I didn’t even realise that I still had faith, you know? In people. In humanity. And then, the world ended and what I’ve seen is almost worse than all that other shit. Everything I saw growing up, it was nothing. All those monsters, nothing. Not compared to what humans can do to each other.”
Daryl didn’t reply. Just lit a cigarette and handed it to Dean.
Dean really appreciated the man’s silence at that moment. It didn’t feel judgemental like Sam’s sometimes had, or disappointed like his dad’s always did. He took a long, calming drag of the cigarette and passed it back.
“This one time, maybe five years ago, my brother got taken from outside a bar. I hunted down the fucks who had taken him, thinking they were… Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Turns out they were human. Cannibals. Living out in the sticks, taking one or two people a year.”
“Jesus,” Daryl muttered softly.
Dean shook his head at the proffered cigarette. “Got my brother back. Pretty much blacked that hunt out of my memories. Just for my own sanity. And then my family is dead, and then the dead are walking, and I leave Bobby’s because I’m outta food in all directions and I know that I can help people.
“Been helping them my whole life. Raised like warriors,” he quoted sarcastically and ignored the confused look Daryl shot him. “So I head out, thinking how bad can the croats be, ya know? They aren’t even fast like…” he remembered the ones in Oregon and the ones in that stupid vision quest Zach sent him on that ran and worked together and were almost coherent in their violence. “And almost the first thing I come across is that clearing and those men. I’m so tired, man.”
Daryl snubbed out the finished cigarette and fiddled with the dials on his crossbow. “There’s a lot you’re not telling us, eh?” Somehow the us sounded like me. “Bu’ it’s all wrapped up in your kin so I ge’ that. Just if you stayed, with… us, you wouldn’t hafta face it. Alone.”
“I can’t lose anyone else,” he said softly.
Daryl stared out at the lake. “M’ brother is the only person that ever stuck around. ‘Cept for ma daddy and the less sed ‘bout him. When Merle left, I was gonna go ‘fter ‘im. Didn’t. Figured bein’ with people is better than bein’ alone.”
The only noise for a long time was the lapping of water, the rustling of leaves, and the pawing of an animal in the undergrowth somewhere by the banks of the lake. Dean scrubbed his eyes dry. Sitting here made all the rest of it seem almost impossible. On a day like this, with the sun shining and nothing but the forest around them, the water and grass and roses drowning out the stink of the dead, it almost felt like the world had never ended.
“They’re already looking to ya. Trust ya more than Shane. More than Rick.” Daryl glanced over at him and then away just as quickly. “I trust ya. More than them.”
“But why?” he asked plaintively.
Daryl was silent for so long that Dean figured he wasn't getting a reply but finally he said, “Had a crossbow pointed at yer face. Didn' blink. Didn' flinch. Didn' leave her neither.” He ran his fingers along the feathers of a bolt without looking away from the lake. “Rick left her in ta woods. He left Merle on the roof. Shane, ya met ‘im. Nuff said. You kept Sophia safe.
“Then the first thing you did in camp was try and fix it. Keep us all safe. Not looking out for yerself like Shane. Not lookin’ out fer yer family first like Rick.” He shrugged. “Ya care about people even when yer trying not to. Yer worth following.”
Dean ignored the curl of warmth in his gut. He glanced to the side so Daryl wouldn’t notice the small smile that lifted his lips. “I’m just doing what my dad trained me to do. Saving people, hunting things, the family business.”
“Wha’ age were ya when he started training ya?”
“Five or six maybe. My mom died in a house fire when I was four and we were on the road from then.”
Daryl stiffened beside him. “My ma,” he coughed, clearing his throat. “She died the same.”
“What?” Dean couldn’t help the way his head shot around. “Your mom died in a fire? What age were you?”
“Eight.”
Relief flooded Dean; he knew the yellow eyed demon was long dead, had seen his dad crawl his way out of Hell and hold him long enough for Dean to kill the demon himself. He still couldn’t help the jolt of fear that shot up his spine at the thought of more kids out there with psychic powers. Even if their powers would be defunct now.
“I’m sorry,” he remembered to say too late.
Daryl shrugged. “Long time ago.”
“Yeah but you never really stop wondering, do you?”
“Wonderin?”
“What your life would have been like if they had survived?”
Daryl didn't reply; neither of them spoke again for a long time.
***
The next two weeks passed slowly but efficiently.
Having been given a goal, everyone settled down and concentrated on their training. Glenn and T-Dog kept everyone on target, kept the camp moving when they weren’t training others. Dean ended up overseeing it all in a way that he had never wanted.
People just kept coming to him for answers, and with Rick distracted helping Carl get back on his feet and with whatever cold war was going on with him and Lori, and Shane seeming to be avoiding everyone but Andrea, although the dark looks he threw Dean’s way every time their paths crossed kept Dean on guard, meant that apparently Dean had been promoted to leader of the fucking group.
Every time he complained to Daryl about it, the man just smirked and continued following him around, apparently still keeping them attached at the hip.
It all kicked off early one afternoon almost two and a half weeks after Dean had arrived.
Glenn spent the morning practically dancing on the spot and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Dean was willing to wait and see how long it took the kid to break, and he was actually pleased to see that it didn’t take long. Glenn pulled Daryl and him aside after lunch and led them over to the barn set furthest away from the house.
He paced in front of it for a few moments before he spun around and announced, “The barn is full of walkers.”
Daryl froze, deathly still.
Dean wanted to scream but he kept his voice calm. “What?”
“I didn’t mean to find out,” Glenn said, almost beseechingly like he thought he was in trouble. “It just happened and I think we should tell everyone and let them make the decision, but somehow, you two are leading the group now so I figured tell you first, right?”
“I’m not leading it,” Daryl said quietly. “He is.”
Dean ignored him as he gritted out, “Why is the barn full of walkers?”
“Hershel thinks they’re still alive. He thinks that a cure will be found and they’ll all come back.” Glenn sighed. “His wife and stepson are in there, and their neighbours too.”
“Jesus,” Daryl muttered.
Dean strode over to the barn and examined the lock on the door. He hadn’t been close to it before, had had no real reason because Hershel had said that all it held was broken bits of farm equipment, but as he stepped closer he could hear the desperate groans of the dead inside and see how clean the chain and lock were. Obviously new.
“Fuck,” he roared. “Why does everywhere have to be fucked up? Can’t one fucking person just not be fucking insane?”
Glenn snorted a noise that was not quite a laugh. “Yeah.”
“We telling ‘em?” Daryl said, nodding over to where the group were still gathered after lunch.
“We have to,” Dean said, following Daryl’s eyes. “Some things aren’t worth keeping a secret.” Secrets had driven him and Sam apart. Had made it so he barely knew his dad. Had killed too many people in his life. “Might as well gather everyone. Let’s keep it in group at the moment. Hershel is making rumblings of us leaving again now that Carl is up and walking. Glenn, I know you and Maggie are close, but just keep it to us for the moment, okay?”
Glenn nodded but he didn’t look happy about it. “If she asks, I won’t lie, but I won’t tell her either.”
Dean clapped him on his shoulder. “That, my friend, is a fair compromise.” He sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”
***
Everyone took the news about as well as Dean had expected. That is they were pissed and scared and, in Shane’s case, practically frothing at the mouth. The only person missing was Rick who had gone off with Hershel earlier to try and convince him to let them all stay, and the kids who were up in the house with Beth and Jimmy. Dean was more annoyed he'd had to call everyone back from watch to tell them all at once. He hated leaving the group unprotected.
They were still discussing it when Rick appeared from around the house, leading a walker by what could only be called a goddamn leash and Shane lost what little hold he had over temper.
It was chaos after that.
Shane shot the walker Rick was holding, shouting all the while about what was dead and what wasn't. He busted open the barn and then everyone was shooting. Hershel was on his knees. Beth was sobbing and Maggie was holding them both. Patricia and Jimmy looked on horrified as the group put every last walker down.
Daryl stood beside Carol, guiding her hand and showing her how best to get headshots.
Shane was roaring, pacing, dangerous.
Dean stood back and let them, keeping Sophia and Carl behind him. They had run from the house along with everyone else once the shooting had started. He hadn’t even met Carl properly yet, but anytime he tried to push past, Dean held him back. Sophia didn’t try; she held onto the back of his shirt with one hand and had her knife in the other. Dean was glad to see it. He knew the little girl had something fierce in her, some bravery and strength that she didn’t even know she owned, and he was determined to get her to recognise it.
By the time the shooting stopped, Dean’s ears were ringing.
No one moved for a long moment.
Once he realised that no one else was going to talk, Dean cleared his throat. It was a weirdly loud noise considering the roar of gunshots that still felt like they were echoing across the farm. “Get into the farmhouse. That noise is going to draw every walker for miles down on us.” He didn’t mention humans. Not when he had two kids clinging to him. When no one responded, he shouted, “Now. Move.”
People reacted this time; putting guns in holsters, shaking out hands, refusing to meet each other's eyes, as they trooped over to the house, silently. Daryl walked beside Carol, pausing when she reached for Sophia. The little girl went running to her. Carl slowly followed when Lori gestured for him. Rick stood on the opposite side of the killing field and stared at Dean, disgust and grief warring on his face.
Hershel was nowhere to be seen.
Only Shane strode across the field like what they had just done was something to be proud of.
Dean counted; there were twenty two bodies rotting on the ground. The stink of them was almost overwhelming. He swallowed convulsively.
Near the barn there was a sturdy looking horse trailer, still attached to a tractor. Dean strode over to it and hotwired it without even thinking of looking for the keys. He parked as close as he could get to the bodies and climbed down.
Rick had already opened the back of the trailer.
Neither of them talked as they loaded up the bodies. Daryl joined them eventually and helped them with the last ten. The sun had started to drop down below the trees before they were finished.
“Burn ‘em?” Daryl asked, finally breaking the stifling silence. “Somewhere away. Back field maybe.”
Dean shook his head. “Wait until they find their own people. If what Glenn said was true, they might want to bury them all. We’ll give them the dignity of that choice.”
Rick nodded, looking a bit shocky around the eyes. “Shane,” he said and then nothing else.
“Yeah,” Dean said. “That is a problem that needs sorting.”
Daryl didn’t say anything but Dean could see the agreement in his face.
***
“Hershel’s gone,” Glenn said the minute Daryl stepped into the house. “Truck is gone. He must have left when we were all shooting, or maybe after.”
“Shit,” Dean muttered, shoving his hands in his hair. “Okay. He probably went to the nearest town. Everyone else okay?”
Glenn shook his head. “Beth, she’s not responding. She’s like catatonic or something.”
“Jesus,” Rick said from behind Dean. “What else can go wrong?”
Dean sighed. “Alright. Daryl and I will go get Hershel. Rick, Maggie and Shane will patrol outside the house. Glenn, T-Dog and Andrea will cover the upstairs windows. Carol, Dale and Jimmy will cover the downstairs one. Lori and Patricia will look after Beth and the kids.” As he had talked, the others had crowded into the hallway. “Switch up your watch every three hours. Fresh eyes keep people safe. Everyone has two weapons at all times; a gun and a knife.”
Pale, scared faces stared back at him.
“You’ll find dad?” Maggie finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.
“We’ll do our best.” It was the only thing he could promise. “Keep them safe, okay? I get back and I expect everyone to still be here.”
Maggie nodded, determination stealing over her face. It suited her better than fear. Reminded Dean of Jo.
He buried that memory as quickly as it had risen. “Everyone knows their jobs?”
It took a moment but they eventually started nodding.
“Rick’s in charge until Daryl and I get back.” The back of Dean’s neck got hot at the casual implication of his leadership. He expected scoffs, some arguments, but there was none. Just more nods of agreement. He was pretty shocked that Shane hadn’t gotten his back up and started an argument just for the sake of it but maybe the other man had a little common sense left and knew this wasn’t the time. “We’ve been training for this. You’ve all got this.”
Rick stepped forward and took out his gun. “Everyone to their positions. I’ll make sure Patricia brings around food and drinks in a while. We all know the whistle for walkers and the one for people?” More nods. “Alright then, let’s go.”
Rick turned to Dean. “Bring him back,” he said before he followed Shane and Maggie out the front door.
Dean finally glanced at Daryl. “Ready for a hunting trip?”
Daryl didn’t bother replying. He just started for the door.
***
“He a drunk?” Daryl asked as they drove the borrowed farm truck down the thin backroads. “One of them recovered ones?”
Dean gripped the steering wheel. “Think so. Dry house. All the Godliness bullshit. Bet he has one of those coins, or more than one.”
Daryl shoved his muddy boots up against the dashboard. “He gone to get drunk?”
“Seems like.”
Daryl sighed. “Yeah.”
The rest of the drive they made in silence. The town was pretty clear of walkers which Dean appreciated. If they needed to have some bullshit chick-flick moment, at least they didn’t need to be watching their backs the whole time.
When they turned onto mainstreet, Daryl pointed silently at a truck Dean recognised as belonging to the farm. Dean spun a three sixty, making sure the truck was facing the way they came and stepped out. He had his machete on his back and his crossbow hanging off his shoulder. Two guns were strapped to his thighs and knives on his hips. Daryl was just as much of a walking armoury. Dean appreciated that about him. He also appreciated how Darly was as much on alert as Dean was, checking the angles as they walked across the street.
The building had two massive windows on either side of the glass doors. No cover. No protection. Dim light made the lone figure sitting on a stool at the mahogany bar almost poetic. A bottle of whiskey rested by his left elbow. An empty tumbler at his right.
“You were right,” Hershel said, staring at them in the mirror on the wall. “About those people. About them being dead. All that talk about God abandoning us. You were right.”
Dean met Hershel’s eyes and shrugged. “Never had much time for God in my line of work.”
“There’s no hope,” Hershel continued as if Dean hadn't spoken. “No humanity. You were right.”
“Doubtful.” Dean didn't like the desolation in Hershel’s voice. “I’m rarely right about anything.”
Hershel snorted. “Son, you’ve led those people with more care and smarts than anyone else in the group.”
“Not your son,” Dean said, less heated than usual. “Can we go back now? Your daughters are worried.”
Before Hershel could respond, Daryl whistled, low and long. The signal for people coming. Dean strode over to him, ducking low and watching the two men as they headed down the sidewalk to the bar.
“Bet there’s booze in here,” one of them said without any care for how loud he was being. “Camp’s been shit since those bitches got away.”
Daryl glanced at Dean when he stiffened.
“Shit,” Dean muttered. “We have to get out of here.”
But it was too late; the two men slammed into the bar and walked right into their raised crossbows.
“Howdy, fellas,” Dean said with a bright smirk. “How’s your day going?”
Daryl shot one of the guys in the hand when he reached for his gun. The man screamed and fell to his knees. He was wearing a grey cutoff t-shirt with the words Straffon across the chest.
“I wouldn’t,” Dean growled when the other man moved towards him. He had incredibly beady eyes and thinning hair. “Sit.” He gestured to the stools. “Now.”
Beady eyes scurried over to the stool and Dean took his weapons. Daryl took Straffon’s gun and kicked him in the hip until he got up and shuffled over to the stool next to his friend. Hershel had watched the whole exchange in silence, and although he was pale and sweaty, Dean was just glad he hadn’t reached for the bottle again.
“No need to get aggressive, man,” Beady eyes said, glaring at Dean as his friend sobbed beside him. “We’re just glad to meet other people who are alive.”
Hershel stood up. “Let me help him.”
Dean shook his head. “I know the camp these fuckers are from, and trust me, you do not want to be anywhere near them.”
Beady eyes frowned. “What do you know about our camp, man?”
“I know what you were doing to those women.”
Both men froze but Beady eyes recovered quicker, sneering at him. “You’re the one who let them free. Hell, man. They were just pulling their weight. We protected them. We deserved a little taste afterwards.”
Dean cocked his crossbow. “You better watch your mouth or the next one is going through your eye.”
“Fuck you, man,” Straffon whimpered, no strength in the words. “You can’t just kill us.”
“The way I see it,” Dean growled, “as long as I have a weapon and you have none, then I can just about do anything I want. Wasn't that what you told those women? Wasn't that how you controlled them? I talked to them after I freed them. Saw their injuries.” He shrugged. “I can put two monsters down. Been doing it my whole life.”
Daryl stepped up beside him. “Are there more of you ou’ there?”
“No, man. It’s just us,” Straffon said between quieting sobs. “I swear. We were just trying to get more booze for camp.”
“Shut up,” Beady eyes snapped. “Don’t tell them shit.”
“Where’s your camp now?” Daryl asked. “How many of you are there?”
Hershel stood suddenly, wavering just slightly when he got to his feet. “We should leave. Let these men go.”
“Sorry, Hershel. But these men aren’t getting out of here alive.” Dean tried to gentle his voice when he said it but he knew there was a steel beneath it that allowed no doubts. “Answer his questions and you’ll get to live a little bit longer.”
“Fuck. You.”
Clutching his hand, Straffon started sobbing again. “We were just trying to survive, man. Just trying to get by. Those ladies, they lived because of us. They were happy to do their part.”
Revulsion flared through Dean; he pulled the trigger and shot Straffon through the eye. He reloaded quickly and turned his crossbow on the other guy, ignoring the nausea crawling up his throat at the easy way he had just taken a life. Even if it was a scumbag rapist.
“I freed those women,” he snarled at Beady eyes. “I saw what your type of help was. Now answer our questions or you’ll get a bolt in the eye too.”
A gunshot rang out, breaking the window further away from them. The shattering glass broke the standoff. The man shoved off his stool and lunged for Dean, knocking him on his ass and punching him. Dean’s head ricocheted back against the floor with a thump.
“Dean,” Daryl shouted.
Dean swung, dizzy but conscious, and knocked the man back.
“Find the shooter,” he grunted as the man grabbed his shirt. “I’ll deal with him.”
The man laughed, spitting blood in Dean’s face before he caught him again with a vicious punch. Dean hit back hard; a jab across the ribs and then a sucker punch under his chin. He heard the man’s teeth clack together as his head jerked back. Dean pulled up his crossbow but the man got both hands on it and pushed it down. With a furious roar, Dean pulled his hand free and elbowed the man in the side of the head.
He glanced up to see Hershel scrambling back.
“Watch out,” Hershel shouted as a bottle smashed across Dean’s face.
Dean dropped down on one elbow with a grunt, desperately swiping blood from his eyes. When he glanced back up, the man had Dean’s crossbow aimed at his head and a gun pointed at Hershel.
“I’m gonna put a bolt through your eye, boy, and then I’m gonna find those women you freed and drag them right back to camp and we’ll give them exactly what they deserve for leaving.”
Hershel was frozen, useless.
Dean stared up at death and suddenly, desperately, didn’t want to die. For the first time since his family had left him, he realised that he wanted to live. He wanted to help keep the people around him alive. He wanted to stay with Carol and Sophia. Glenn. Dale. Rick. Lori. Carl. T-Doy. Fucking old man Hershel and his daughters. Patricia and Jimmy.
Daryl.
He wanted everything the other man was willing to give him.
Anything the other man was willing to give him.
A bolt landed in Beady eye’s forehead, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Dean snapped his head around; Daryl stood in the doorway, encased in the glowing yellow light of the sunset. He looked almost angelic, but without being a giant, raging dickbag.
Then, Daryl stepped into the bar and he was himself again.
“Man,” Dean said, smiling brightly with the relief of being alive, “am I glad to see you.”
“Gotta go,” Daryl said. “That bullet’s gonna attract every walker from here to goddamn Atlanta.”
Hershel rested heavily against the bar. “I want to get back to my girls.”
“Wonderful,” Dean said, snatching his crossbow free of the dead man’s loose hold. “Let’s get back then before some other shitshow starts.” He glanced over at Daryl. “You got the shooter?”
Daryl nodded as he pulled their bolts free. “Was a kid,” he said quietly. “Got him in the eye.”
Dean took his bolt but he held on to Daryl’s hand. He couldn’t help but notice how perfectly their callusses lined up. “Thank you.”
He wasn’t sure what he was thanking him for: the bolt, saving his life, for being the most reliable person Dean had had since… Well, he honestly couldn’t remember. Cas had come close. Sam should have been the solid foundation of Dean’s life but he kept leaving. John too. Bobby was a father figure, and he was there more than anyone, but he had always had other things going on. Dean was a priority but he has never been number one on that list.
Daryl, though.
He barely knew Dean, and yet, he kept following him into shitshow after shitshow with no hesitation. Daryl's footsteps may have been silent but they were always there.
Daryl squeezed his hand once and let go. “Let’s ge’ ou’ of here.”
***
The drive back was silent.
They had run into some walkers getting to the truck but nothing that couldn’t be dealt with quickly. Probably managed to avoid the worst of them.
The road ahead of them was pitch black; they had lost the whole day. Dean didn’t have the lights on for fear of attracting Walkers, or worse, so he had to drive well below the speed limit.
He hated it as much as he always thought he would.
Hershel was conked out in the back of the car, probably sleeping off his hangover. His snores were the only thing breaking through the quiet. Dean had one hand on the steering wheel, and the other on the shiftstick. Daryl was staring out the window, boots back up on the dashboard and crossbow in his lap.
Dean flexed his fist; the knuckles were bruised. Daryl’s hand slipped off his lap. Without looking away from the window, Daryl linked his fingers with Dean’s and gave them a soft squeeze. Neither of them spoke for the longest time.
“Don’t…” Daryl took a soft, almost shuddering breath. “Don’t die. Nex’ time, jus’ take the shot.”
Dean rubbed his thumb along Daryl’s pinkie. “Next time I will.”
Daryl nodded. Dean drove.
They eventually got back to the farm, only letting go of each other when the house came into view.
***
Rick was waiting on the porch, He was pale in the moonlight and his bottom lip was bitten to shreds. “Patricia was visiting Otis’ grave,” he said when they were in hearing distance. “She snuck out the back door. No one noticed. Walkers got her.”
Hershel rushed up into the house, calling out for Maggie and Beth as he did. Shane and Maggie walked around the corner of the house just as he disappeared inside and she chased after him with barely any acknowledgement for the rest of them. Shane followed her but not before throwing a vicious glare at Dean.
“The others are still on watch,” Rick said, scrubbing his hands through his hair. It was already wild; he had probably been doing it for a while. “We tried to fight them off but by the time we got to her…”
Dean nodded but there was nothing to say. He walked up the stairs to the house and was met with more calm than he expected. Everyone was still at their posts; there were tears, grief and pain, but no one had abandoned what they were meant to be doing. He wasn’t used to the pride that filled him. All the training was paying off even in the worst of situations.
“You okay?” He asked Lori when he found her in an upstairs bedroom, watching over a sleeping Carl and Sophia. She was the last person he had to check up on.
She had a gun and knife like he had said and sat near the window, watching. She rarely spoke at the training sessions, and seemed uncomfortable to even be there, but after Carol's speech she had agreed, and had agreed to let Carl be trained as well. And now, even after the worst day they'd had in a while, she had her hand close to her holster like Dean had taught, was still alert enough to turn the second the door opened, other hand on the knife handle.
She shrugged. “They heard her screaming.” Her voice was hoarse, empty and a little bit broken. “It took a long time for them to fall asleep. I didn’t want to leave them. Carol didn’t either but she went to cover Andrea so she could get some sleep.”
Dean nodded. “Do you need anything?”
She shook her head.
“You wanna go to sleep? We didn't see any herds on the way back. Those few who got Patricia were probably it. We only need a few people on watch now.”
She covered her face with her hands and nodded. “Sleep would be good. Did you find Hershel?”
“Yeah. He’s okay. I think he’s with Beth.” Dean walked over to the door. “Go to sleep, Lori. I’ll send Rick into to you.”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Please.”
Dean nodded, well aware that something was going on there but not interested enough in finding out what it was. Marital problems, probably. Something that would sort themselves out, hopefully.
He knew he should give her some comfort but he was so goddamn exhausted. His face hurt, his fists and ribs too. He just wanted to curl up somewhere defensible and sleep.
Instead, he said, “I’ll put him on first watch.”
“I’m pregnant.”
They both froze. He had been so close, could see Daryl leaning on the wall outside, eyebrows raised. He had clearly heard what Lori had said and was very carefully making no noise. Dean shut the door over again, making sure Lori wouldn’t see him.
He didn’t bother to offer her empty congratulations. He could already tell that this was eating her alive. “When did you find out?”
“Today. Thought maybe I was last month, but hoped it was the stress of, you know, the end of the world.” She laughed humorously. “Glenn stole me a pregnancy test. A lot of pregnancy tests.”
Dean was almost proud that Glenn managed to keep a secret. Almost. “What are you going to do?”
“I wanted Glenn to get me Plan B but I don’t know if I can… I don’t know whose it is,” she whispered.
Dean wanted to react, wanted to groan and bitch and fucking complain about this soap opera bullshit, but instead he kept his face placid, and asked, “Shane?”
She nodded. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I thought Rick was dead. Shane told me he was dead. And then after Rick came back and I ended it, in the CDC, he attacked me. He was drunk but he… He tried to force himself on me.”
Dean worked very, very hard not to react. He tried to embody Sammy and instead he took her hand between hers. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook his head. “Scratched his face. Got him off me. He was drunk. I don’t think…” She shook her head. “I’m not making excuses for him, fuck that.”
Dean almost laughed. “I didn’t think a good Southern lady like you knew that sort of language.”
This time she managed a smile. “What are you going to do?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’m scared of him. I’m scared of…” She looked away, eyes shining in the moonlight. “He’s not safe but Rick won’t listen, or maybe he will. I haven’t tried. How do I tell him that I’m pregnant with his best friend’s baby and said best friend attacked me?”
“You don’t have to. It’s your baby first and foremost. Fuck anybody who tells you differently. You body. Your baby. Your choice.” He squeezed her hand and refused to compare the soft skin to how rough and real Daryl’s had felt. “I’m on your side. Daryl too. Carol. Glenn. All of us will back any choice you make but this is your choice. Anything you need; violence, protection, Plan B. You sleep on it and let me know.”
She smiled, small but less tense than before. “Thank you, Dean. I appreciated it.”
He stood up and squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be downstairs.”
He left her to sleep and went to figure out what the fuck he was going to do about Shane and this fucked up bullshit he had landed himself in.
***
The knife scraped rhythmically over the whetstone and echoed out over the quiet farm.
Dean sat on the front steps of the porch and let the familiar motion calm the furious rage that beat like a heart inside of him. Daryl sat smoking on the step above him. His knee pressed against Dean’s bicep. That one circle of heat brought him more comfort than he would have ever admitted.
The house behind them was silent; everyone else finally sleeping. Rick and Shane were on watch at the back of the house, but with the amount of time since the shooting party in front of the barn, and the attack on Patricia, Dean had felt comfortable letting the rest sleep for a couple of hours.
It was the darkest part of the night, and Dean still buzzed with the adrenaline of realising that he wanted to live. Still burned with the anger of what Shane had done.
“Wha’ we gonna do ‘bout him?”
Dean put his knife back in its sheath and held out his hand. Daryl’s knife landed in his palm with no hesitation. “Hold a kangaroo court and let the others decide. Banish him with some supplies. Or we could fucking kill him.”
Daryl hummed. “Three options.”
“Lori might want us to leave it be.”
“Can’t.” Daryl leaned forward on his knees, face almost in line with Dean’s. “Too dangerous. Know men like ‘im. Send him away? He’ll come back, prove he’s the biggest man. Let the others decide? He’ll charm ‘em.”
“Option three it is then.”
Daryl shrugged. “Two an’ three. Others need to b’ included or ya’ll lose ‘em.”
“Lori can decide what she wants revealed. We need to talk about what happened with the barn. Tell them about the bar too.” He checked the sharpness of the blade against his thumb and then handed it back to Daryl. Turning, he leaned his forehead against the ball of Daryl’s shoulder. “This day is so fucking fucked. Wanna watch Tombstone and drink some beer?”
“Call for takeout?”
“Cheeseburgers and pie.”
“Pfft. City boy can’t handle his squirrel.” Daryl’s hand pressed gently against Dean’s head like he was unsure if it would be welcome. When Dean pushed into it, he scratched his blunt nails against Dean’s scalp. “Snake is my favourite.”
Dean closed his eyes and let shivers play along his spine. “You’ll make me some?”
“Yeah. I’ll make you some.”
Tears filled Dean’s eyes; he blinked them away. He wanted to say something but he couldn’t quite figure out how to articulate the warm feeling in his chest, how, for the first time in too long, he didn’t feel alone.
Eventually he pulled away and wiped his eyes as surreptitiously as possible. “You think there’s gonna be any more walkers tonight?”
“Nah,” Daryl said with so much confidence that Dean couldn't help but believe him.
***
They decided to bury their dead the next afternoon.
Dean vetoed burying everyone; it was too much work for too many people. He allowed close family only. Him and Daryl left T-Dog to organize gravediggers, and they took the other bodies out to one of the fields on the edges of the farm to burn. It took them a few hours, and the worst stench Dean had ever been exposed to and that was saying a lot, but finally the bodies were destroyed.
“You smell,” Sophia said when they dragged themselves back to camp after. Her nose crinkled up in a way that was ridiculously adorable. “Really bad.”
Dean laughed. “Yeah, Soph, we do. We’re gonna go find a hose to wash ourselves down.”
“You will not,” Carol said, coming out of the RV. “Go up into the house and have proper showers. The funerals are this afternoon and everyone needs to be dressed appropriately. I left clean clothes for both of you in the bathroom upstairs. Shoo.”
With a huff that was probably a laugh, Daryl turned and strode towards the house. Dean winked at Sophia and followed him.
Although Dean half-expected to be refused entrance to the house, especially since they weren’t just there for a meeting, no one stopped them. There were murmuring voices from the kitchen, some hushed argument that Dean wasn’t too interested in, and Jimmy sat at the bottom of the stairs, eyes red, but he still managed a weak smile as they walked passed. Dean ruffled his hair and grinned when the boy squawked.
He gestured for Daryl to go first and then slid down the wall outside the bathroom. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the cool air and the silence for a while.
A door opened down the hall from him. He let his eyes slide back open.
“Hey,” Andrea said.
He nodded. “Beth okay?”
“She’s talking. Suicidal. I tried to help but…” she shook her head. “Everyone is pretty mad so you might as well hear it from me. I left her alone. Let her decide.”
Exhaustion swept through him. “What she do?”
“Tried to kill herself.” Andrea looked up to the ceiling, eyes bright. “She had to make the choice. She had to want to live or she was never going to make it. I just gave her the opportunity.”
He nodded. “She chose to die?”
“Sort of. She’ll live. I think she scared herself." Andrea tied up her hair with quick fingers. “I think she’ll fight to live now.”
“You think?” He shook his head. “You don’t get to play extreme psychology with a member of this group. You don’t get to risk a sixteen year old girl who just lost her whole family on a whim, ya hear me?”
“What do you know about it?” she snapped. “How many people have you lost?”
“Everyone.” He didn't look over when the bathroom door opened but he could feel Daryl's eyes on him. “Ask anyone here. You’re not the only one who has lost people, Andrea. You don’t get to test people’s will to live. Especially not when they are goddamn children.”
Andrea nodded. “She’s asleep now. Lori will be up in a minute.”
“Better stay with her until then. Just in case she wakes up and your experiment wasn’t as successful as you think it was.”
Andrea flinched but she hid it quickly. “Sure.”
“What’s tha’ ‘bout?” Daryl asked when Dean dragged himself up.
“I’ll tell you when I don’t stink of death.”
He tried not to notice how good Daryl looked with his hair neatly brushed back, wet along the collar of his grey shirt. The leather waistcoat he had on made his already broad shoulders look even wider. Dean licked his lower lip as he dragged his eyes down Daryl’s body. Daryl shifted in his boots and Dean’s eyes shot back up to his face.
“I’ll wait here,” Daryl said into the heavy silence between them. His voice sounded rougher than usual. “Git.”
With a sharp nod, Dean stepped into the bathroom. The room was steamy and damp. He tried not to think about Daryl being in here, naked, only moments before. That would not lead to a productive shower, and it had been so long since he’d had a hot shower.
The spray was like heaven. He groaned when it hit his shoulders and he rested both hands on the tiles and dropped his head down. He knew the water was limited, time was limited, but fuck if he cared right then.
When it started to cool, he grabbed the closest bottle and scrubbed himself up, washing away weeks of filth. The water slid down his body in dark, bloody streams until it eventually turned clear. He washed his hair with some vanilla smelling stuff that felt silky between his fingertips and as it ran through the strands of his hair. He didn’t bother with conditioner.
By the time he stepped out the air was cold on his pink skin. He dried himself roughly on too soft towels and shoved on the clothes Carol had left for him; his only pair of navy jeans, a black t-shirt and a dark green flannel. He ran a hand over the rough stubble growing over his too sharp jawline, months of not enough food making every part of him more prominent, more lean, more feral dog than house cat.
Daryl was leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom when Dean stepped out. He did his own examination, eyes lingering over Dean's thighs, his chest, his shoulders, before he stepped forward and very slowly ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, fixing it into something respectable.
“Ya’ll do,” he muttered before turning away and leading them both down the hallway.
***
Dean stood at one end of the funeral gathering, and Daryl stood at the other. They both had their crossbows ready but they were the only ones on watch. Dean had made an exception this one time, letting everyone off their jobs so they could mourn. Him and Daryl could keep track of any threats.
Hershel led the service, voice strong and steady. “Grant us, with all who have died in the hope of resurrection—”
Dean tried not to think of the irony of that considering they were in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. He tuned out the rest of the words and instead concentrated on the sound of the breeze through the leaves, the few birds still left that chirped in the trees, and the way the grass in the outer fields undulated like the currents of the oceans.
He kept scanning the horizon from the house to the barn to the forest and back again.
Nothing moved. Nothing shambled out with death’s hunger pushing them forward. Dean couldn’t help but think of that old man in the diner in Chicago. Couldn’t help but wonder how he was coping with this new world order. The reapers must be losing their minds. Tessa would definitely be losing hers. He had tried to summon them both when this all went down but neither had responded. Maybe they deserved to lose their minds a little.
A chorus of amens rang across the clearing.
Dean took one last sweeping look and turned to face the gathering. Carol was crouched down and hugging Sophia. Rick, Lori and Carl were all huddled together like a functional family for once. Dale and Andrea were holding hands over one of the graves. T-Dog had his head bowed in prayer, or respect. Beth was crying into Jimmy’s chest, and Maggie into Glenn’s. Hershel stared down at one of the graves, eyes wet and face shining. Shane was off to the side, arms crossed and face blank.
He met Dean’s eyes and raised an eyebrow. A smirk played along his lips.
Dean fought the urge to stalk over to him and punch him by glancing over at Daryl. Daryl who had his finger on the trigger of his crossbow and was watching Shane taunt Dean. Daryl who hadn’t relaxed once and was ready to kill a man for Dean.
He let his shoulders lower and walked over to Daryl instead. “You okay?”
He nodded. “I don’t like ‘im.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll deal with him soon.” He stepped up besides Daryl, shoulder to shoulder, and watched as the others gathered around and talked quietly. “They all going back to the house?”
“Carol spent the morning cooking. Reception or sumtin’.”
“Very civilised,” Dean muttered, watching Shane walk towards the house with his arm around Andrea. He glanced over at Lori; she was watching Shane as well, face pale. “I want to punch him so fucking bad.”
“We keeping watch?”
“RV’ll do. Quiet. Hopefully it’ll stay that way.”
Daryl snorted. “Not now ya said it.”
***
For once their luck held and the rest of the evening remained quiet.
Carol brought food down to them around sunset. Lori walked with her, knife in her hand. She climbed up the ladder first and took the tupperware boxes off Carol, handing them to Dean as she watched Carol climb the ladder.
“We can take over watch while you eat,” she said with a small smile. “Carol packed the food for you. Bit of everything.”
“Figured you’d both be hungry by now.” Carol pulled cutlery out of her pocket and then laughed when she noticed they were both eating with their fingers. “You two were made for each other.”
Dean’s ears felt hot but he was hopeful that no one would notice in the setting sun. “Good food,” he mumbled through a full mouth.
Daryl hummed his agreement.
“Anything happening?” Lori asked, eyes never leaving the horizon. She was good; pace steady as she walked up and down the RV, head swivelling back and forth, aware of her surroundings but also keeping track of the people around her.
“Nothi’,” Daryl said around a slice of bread. “Everyone ‘kay?”
Carol nodded. “Lots of tears but I think everyone needed this. Thank you,” she said, “for keeping watch and letting us grieve.”
“Ain’t nothing,” Daryl said, switching out Dean’s salad for another one of the mini burgers. Dean was pretty sure he had heart eyes. “Cheeseburger,” he said with a shrug. “No pie though. Maybe if we ask nice, Carol’ll make us some.”
Carol laughed. “Maybe if you ask real nice,” she said with a wink.
Daryl flushed and looked down. “Stop.”
Carol and Lori laughed but Dean felt the flickerings of something unidentifiable low in his gut; he should be the only one who made Daryl flush and mumble. When Daryl glanced up at him through his eyelashes, Dean threw on a devil may care smirk and winked at him.
Daryl choked on a bite of chicken. “I hate ya all.”
Lori laughed, bright in a way Dean had never heard before. She seemed different out here. More relaxed away from the pressures of juggling Rick and Shane.
“Want me to make them stop?” she asked, still smiling.
“S’okay. ‘ll jus’ ignore ‘em.”
“Defintely the best defence,” Lori agreed with another happy laugh. “Do you guys want to head up to the house? Me and Carol can keep watch for a few hours.”
Dean raised an eyebrow at Daryl. He shrugged in response.
“If you don’t mind? I could do with a few hours rest.” Dean gathered up the tupperware and stood up. He held his hand out, and when Daryl grabbed it, he pulled him to his feet. “We’ll send someone out in two hours. Been a long day. Gonna have short watches tonight. Let people get some proper rest.”
“Who’ll be letting us up?” Lori asked.
“Glenn and Maggie.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Dean handed Daryl the boxes and went over to Lori, making sure that neither of the others could hear him when he said, “I need you to think about what you want to do about Shane. We can kick him out of camp, can have a meeting about him, or kill him. We don’t have to tell them what happened between you two. Not any of it,” he insisted when she blanched. “I can't guarantee he won’t though. He seems like that type of jackass.”
She bit her lip and scanned the horizon again. “If you kick him out, he’ll come back. He won’t just leave.”
“I know.” Dean rubbed his hands down his face. “I just didn’t want to lead with the shoot him in the head option.”
Lori laughed darkly. “Could you drive him far out and leave him with supplies?”
“I’ll have a look at the map. See if there is anywhere that might work.” He glanced over at where Daryl still stood by the ladder and at Carol who was walking the RV and minding her own business. “Think about what you want. Let me know.”
She wiped her eyes suddenly. “Thank you for not judging.”
“Nah,” Dean grinned. “You did the best you could with the knowledge you had. I’ve made much worse decisions with way more information and it wasn’t even the end of the world then. Well, maybe once or twice.”
Lori laughed. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“Wanna hug it out?”
She looked up at him in surprise, examining his expression, before she nodded. Dean wrapped her in his arms and managed not to flinch at the way her whole body folded into his. He had gotten used to Daryl’s small touches, to how they were fleeting at first and now happening more regularly and for longer times, but this was almost too much.
He held her for as long as she needed though, skin crawling by the time she let him go. He kept his expression measured when she pulled back. She wiped the tears off her face quickly and smiled again, more brittle than before.
“I’ll let you know in the morning.”
***
Most people were still up, talking quietly in the light of candles when they got into the house. The curtains were heavy enough to block out the light so instead of making them blow the little flames out, he just gave out the watch shifts and waved off the offers of joining the group.
Hershel directed them to a room at the back of the house and he led Daryl quietly down the hallway, ignoring the whispers that followed them. A mattress and a couch were shoved into the small space and not much else. He thought it might have been a reading room because there were still piles of books in the corner.
He gestured to the mattress and folded himself into the couch. Daryl pffted and grabbed Dean’s wrist, pulling him over to the double mattress. He sat down on it and took his boots off. Dean watched him for a second before doing the same. His bones ached from carrying bodies all morning and from listening to people crying all afternoon.
“This day feels neverending,” he muttered, lining his boots up beside Daryl’s. “I just want to sleep for a year.”
“Try a coupla hours firs’.”
“Yeah.”
Daryl lay down, still dressed with his crossbow and his knife in reaching distance by the mattress. Dean set up his crossbow in the same way on the other side but stuck his knife under his pillow, before he rested his sore body down on the soft bedding.
“Fuck,” he groaned when his head his the pillow. “I haven’t slept in a bed in months.”
Daryl huffed out a laugh. “Nee’ some time alon’ wit’ the mattress?”
Dean flipped onto his stomach and shoved his hands under the pillow, making sure the knife wouldn’t stab him in his sleep but was close enough to grab if he needed it. Sleep was already pulling him under when he mumbled, “Nah, would rather have you here.”
He didn’t hear if Daryl replied. He was already asleep.
***
Dean woke up with his face pressed into his pillow and his hand resting on Daryl’s chest.
He could feel Daryl’s heartbeat beneath his palm. They were lying so close together, heads at the edge of their pillows, that Dean could feel Daryl’s breath on his lips. He was warm, and he was comfortable, and he felt safe in a way he hadn’t since before he made the deal to save Sam’s life. Longer. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this safe.
He knew it couldn’t last, could already hear people moving about outside, but right now, he had no interest in moving. He let his eyes flutter shut again and listened to Daryl’s breathing; smooth, calm, repetitive. It was still dark enough that Dean felt no real push to get up. Someone else could deal with the responsibilities of running camp this morning. Dean was going to lie here for as long as Daryl would let him.
He didn’t quite fall back asleep but he dozed for an indeterminable amount of time. He barely registered the sun lightening the room, or when Daryl’s fingers slipped between his, palm rough on the back of Dean’s hand. He hummed in acknowledgement but kept his eyes shut. Daryl leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Dean’s.
More time passed; slow, syrupy, stretched out like taffy.
Eventually the noise outside became too intrusive; Dean was forced out of the comfortable haze he had fallen into. Daryl groaned when Dean sat up, and turned onto his side, burying his face into Dean’s hip.
“No,” he muttered. “Slee’.”
Dean laughed, low and warm. “There’s probably eighteen problems that are impossible to solve without our input.”
Daryl stiffened suddenly and then rolled to his side of the mattress. He pushed himself up, cheeks pink, avoiding Dean's eyes. He threw his legs over the edge of the mattress and shoved his feet into his boots.
“Daryl.”
He shook his head, back muscles tense enough that Dean could see them through his thin grey t-shirt as he shrugged his leather vest back on.
Dean wanted to sooth him somehow, but Daryl’s whole body screamed that he didn’t want to be touched, so he curled his hands into fists to stop himself.
“Gonna go huntin’. Be back ‘fore sunset.”
“Alone?”
Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’ll be safe? You’ll…” The next words were lodged in his throat, sharp like knives, but he forced them out. “You’ll come back?”
Daryl finally looked at him although he still didn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “‘ll come bac’.”
Dean nodded, hating that he had wrecked this easy thing they had by being too clingy. He forced a smirk into his lips.
“Maybe sneak out before anyone can get on me for giving you special privileges.”
Daryl didn’t smile but the tightness around his eyes loosened just a little. He nodded, grabbed his crossbow and was gone before Dean could think of anything else to say.
He didn’t bother lying there any longer. The bed seemed impossibly empty now. Cold, even. He laced up his boots and shoved his knife into its sheath. Once his crossbow was hanging off his back, he headed to the kitchen where he could hear the hum of conversation.
He slipped into the room quiet enough that no one at the table noticed and filled a bowl up with the still hot porridge sitting on the hob. He scooped some jam into it, leaned on the counter and started eating.
Sophia sidled up beside him like she wasn’t sure if she was welcome. He tilted his head at the counter and she pulled herself up onto it.
“Daryl went out by himself,” she whispered.
He nodded, spoon hanging from his mouth, and she giggled. “He needed a break. Too many people. Too much of the time.”
“I thought we weren’t meant to go off by ourselves.”
“We’re not,” Dean agreed, “but Daryl is well trained. He can protect himself.”
“Like you can?”
“Yeah, like me. Sometimes you need time by yourself.” He scraped the last of the porridge from his bowl and glanced longingly at the pot. “Think anyone would mind if I had seconds?”
She shook her head. “Everyone already ate.”
“Did you have enough?”
“I got toast too. Mom made bread. She’s on watch now.” She glanced around. “Beth had nutella but she only gave it to the kids.”
“Sweet,” Dean said. “I haven’t had nutella in forever.”
Sophia’s face lit up. “Wait here.”
She hopped off the counter and ran over to Beth who was sitting at the table. Except for the funerals, it was the first time she had been out of her room in days. She was pale, almost translucent in the morning sunlight, but she smiled softly at whatever Sophia was saying to her, pointing her to a sideboard. Sophia grinned brightly and raced over to the cabinet. She pulled something out and ineloquently hid it behind her back.
“Close your eyes,” she said when she got close to him. He did. “Okay, hold out your hands.” He did and she placed a cold glass jar in them. “Okay, okay. Open them.”
A jar of nutella sat in his hands. Sophia was grinning brighter than he had ever seen.
He grinned back at her. “I can have some?”
She nodded. “I asked Beth and she said I could share with you. I can make you toast if you want?”
“That’d be so good, Soph. Thanks.”
She practically skipped off to set about making him toast. He washed his bowl while she worked, and then proceeded to clean every dish in the sink. Beth dropped some more over to him, not quite avoiding eye contact but not managing to make it either.
“You doing okay?” he asked her quietly. “Do you need anything?”
“Can you take me shooting? Daddy doesn’t think I should. Maggie thinks it’s too soon. But if I have to… If I’m going to survive this, I have to be able to protect myself. Protect them.” She tilted her head towards the table where Jimmy and Carl were playing cards. “Unless you're going to tell me I’m too fragile as well?”
He shook his head. “Let me check where I’m meant to be this morning, and if I’m free, I can take you. All of you.”
She didn't smile but the tension in her shoulders loosened. “Thank you. I’ll get the rest of the dishes.”
By the time Dean had finished all the washing, Sophia was carrying a plate of toast over to him. It was covered in a thick layer of nutella. He dried his hands and took the plate from her with a grin.
“Thanking you kindly, Ms Sophia.”
Her grin brightened. “You’re welcome.”
“You coming out training with us today? Carl, Jimmy, you too.”
Carl’s whole face broke out into a grin. “Really?”
Dean nodded and took a bite of his toast. “Everyone meet me outside in fifteen. Let whoever is in charge of you know where you’re going. In pairs,” he called after them as they scrambled off, running to find whoever they needed to tell. Even Beth and Jimmy seemed to have forgotten that they were meant to be too cool teenagers. “I need to make sure I’m not on watch for the next two hours,” he muttered to himself, finishing his toast and washing his plate. He grabbed three cups of coffee and headed for the porch.
Glenn was sitting on the porch, scribbling into a notebook when Dean went looking for him. Dean put a cup down in front of him and another in front of the chair T-Dog usually sat in.
“Morning,” Glenn said when Dean sat down beside him. They'd been having meetings every morning for weeks, usually after Daryl and Dean got back from their morning hunt, to discuss the coming day and so Dean knew where everyone was at all times. “Oh, thanks.” He grabbed the coffee and took a long drink. “I needed that.”
“Where's T?
“Maggie and Hershel needed help moving something heavy in the barn. Said they'd keep him with them today.” Glenn stacked his papers together like he did every morning, all official like. “Figured I'd pair with you since I saw Daryl disappear into the woods an hour ago.”
Dean just rolled his eyes at the unspoken question, divided the extra coffee between their cups, and looked at the papers in Glenn's hands. “What you got for me today?”
He handed Dean his copy of the day's rota. He looked over it and tucked it into his pocket. They tried to keep as much variety as possible everyday to make sure people didn't get bored and lazy. They had about ten different rosters now that they worked between and that Glenn kept safe. Dean always gave his back at the end of every day; paper was a luxury they wouldn't always have.
Once Dean settled back in his chair, Glenn said, "Watch last night went well. You did right keeping them short. People needed the rest.”
“Should we switch to two hour shifts at night?”
Glenn shook his head. “Maybe every now and again, but the longer shifts are better. Means longer sleep cycles for the others too. We can switch out sometimes but I think we should leave it for now.”
“Sounds good, what else?”
“I’ve been looking over the caculations Lori and Patricia had done on the food we’d need to survive the winter before, well,” he glanced over in the direction of the fresh graves and shook his head, “and we need to start doing runs if we’re going to last.
“We have a lot of food stored and the animals, of course. But I’d feel more comfortable if we had more. Especially with… well, you know, right? Please tell me you know. I cannot keep this secret for much longer, and like, is she even going to be able to keep it a secret?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know about Lori, but no one else does, so maybe keep your piehole shut?”
Glenn pretended to lock his mouth and then tuck the key in his pocket.
“Jesus, you fucking nerd.” He ruffled Glenn’s hair just to hear him squawk. “You need anything else from me this morning? I was gonna take the kids shooting.”
“Nah,” Gleen said. “You were meant to be hunting with Daryl but apparently it’s okay for him to go off by himself and no one else. You guys get in a fight?”
“Nah,” Dean said, ignoring how his hands were clammy and his heart beat a little faster. “He just felt a little claustrophobic. Too many people. Too much me.” He shrugged casually to show how completely unbothered he was by that.
Glenn snorted, clearly not fooled. “You know, except for Merle, he never really had any time for any of us. He gave us squirrels in the quarry, kept us fed, unlike Merle who was a fucking piece of work, but he never wanted to join us.
“Even after Merle left, he kept his distance. Kept us fed but he stayed separate. Was a little better in the CDC, yeah, but I'm pretty sure that was just the whiskey.” He picked up the pen and started doodling hearts on the edge of the page. “When Sophia went missing, he was the only one who believed that we would find her. Carol, she wanted to, but she had suffered so much with Ed, I just don’t think she had it in her.”
Dean’s heart hurt at the thought of Carol — strong, unshakable Carol — whose shots were getting better every day, having no hope of finding the kid she clearly adored with every inch of her.
“What are you trying to say, kid?”
“I’m saying Daryl isn’t sick of you. I don’t know him that well but he hasn’t been like this with anyone. Him and Merle barely seemed to get on. They were stuck together like glue but Merle treated him like shit. Called me Chinaman.” He shook his head. “I’m from Korea.”
Dean laughed at the pure disgust in Glenn's voice. “Are you comforting me?” Amusement was a warm cat curled up in his gut. “You looking out for me, Glenn?”
Glenn shrugged. “Seemed like you were a bit worried.”
“I wasn’t,” Dean lied.
Not having Daryl with him felt a little like knowing he had forgotten something but not being able to remember what it was. Every time he glanced over expecting to see the other man and saw nothing, he felt another prick of something being just not right. The whole sensation was making his skin crawl; he only knew the man about three weeks, he didn’t want this. He wanted to be alone. It was safer. It was…
He wanted to say better but even he couldn’t manage to lie that well.
“It’s okay to find someone in all of this.” This time Glenn was staring across the field to where Maggie was directing Hershel and T-Dog. They were carrying something long and square between them and Dean could hear T-Dog bitching. “It sort of feels weird, like you should feel guilty, but you’re still allowed to find it. You’re still allowed to love, I guess.”
“I feel like I should have mentioned no chick flick moments.”
Glenn rolled his eyes. “Feel your feelings, dude. Don’t let the toxic masculinity ruin your life.”
“Daryl would never make me talk about my feelings like this.”
Glenn laughed, bright and easy. “God, you too are perfect for each other.”
“We’re not anything. We’ve just barely figured out being friends.” Dean stared out at the forest, wishing Daryl would walk out with a bussel of squirrels and that confident slope of a walk. “We’re both used to being alone.”
“Yeah, well,” Glenn said as the kids poured out onto the porch, giggling and pushing each other. Actually acting like children for once. “Be alone together. It’s way better. Trust me.”
***
He let Glenn take the lead on the shooting and he checked the bolts he and Daryl had spent all their free time making the last few weeks. They had about a hundred now, and they worked in both their crossbows despite them being slightly different makes.
They usually didn't talk when they carved; just sat together with the noise of sandpaper and the scrap of the knife between them. It was as close to peace as Dean could get these days.
Glenn was a great teacher, making up competitions for the kids and fixing their mistakes without them even really realising. Nothing like how John Winchester had taught Dean; he always knew exactly how much of a fuck up he was by the time John was finished with him.
Eventually he was called in to pull back the crossbow wire; the kids weren't strong enough, and Glenn’s arms had flaked out. He gave out encouragement and grinned when Sophia hit the inner ring for the first time. Carl wasn't a bad shot and Beth had some familiarity around guns. Jimmy was not great but he made up for it in determination.
The morning was so peaceful, he almost didn't notice Shane striding across the field like he had a rocket up his ass. Almost.
“Carl, your daddy know you're out here shooting?” Shane shouted the words louder than they needed to be.
Beth jumped in shock and almost dropped the crossbow she had been about to shoot.
Dean was just glad the first thing Glenn has taught them was trigger safety, and that Glenn had remembered everything Dean had taught him weeks ago about the exact same thing.
“Hey, man,” Dean hissed, “shut the fuck up shouting. We're closer to the trees here. You know we have a volume rule.”
“You and you're fucking rules,” Shane growled, stalking over to Dean and shoving a finger in his chest. “This was my camp before you came along. Before Rick took over. I kept these people alive through the worst of it.”
Dean kept his hands down near his knife and his expression blank. “Worst of it is only starting. All I'm trying to do is keep these people safe now.”
“Like you give a fuck about anyone's safety but your own. Probably planning on robbing us as soon as our guards are down.”
Dean shook his head at Glenn as the man took a step forward. Carl was pale and shaking, glancing back and forth between Shane and him. God, he was so fucking young.
Shane was still glaring at him, violence coiled through every one of his muscles. He was just barely maintaining that mask of his. It made Dean's decision easy — get the kids to safety.
“Alright,” he said, forcing himself to take his eyes off Shane against his better judgement, “how about we call that a day on the shooting practice, yeah? We'll head back to the house and get some food.” He grinned to ease some of the fear settling down on what had been a peaceful morning. “My arms hurt from pulling the crossbow wire back, over and over and over,” he continued with exaggerated cheer and a wink. “We’ll have to make sure Glenn puts you guys on the roster for more lessons though. You're all getting good.”
Shane was still glaring at Dean when he snapped, “Carl, come here.”
“You're not his daddy,” Dean said, low and warning. “He's going back with us. You wanna come with us, great. You wanna go back to your partner, even fucking better. But those are your only two options.”
“I'm not taking orders from some blow in. Not anymore. Lori would be pissed if she knew you were down here teaching her son to shoot.”
“Mom said yes,” Carl said from beside Sophia. She had her hand clamped around his wrist which seemed to be the only thing stopping him from stepping closer to them. “I asked her because Dean said we had to and she agreed. She said it was a good idea.”
Shane swung around. “Lori gave you permission. What about Rick?”
“He's on perimeter watch. I thought you were meant to be with him.” Carl shrugged. “Do you not think I'd be a good shot?”
“Nah, man. That's not it. Just thought you were down here without permission. Didn't want Dean getting you in trouble.” The change in personality was almost jarring; Shane went from practically frothing at the mouth to almost concerned in less than a second. “Let's get back to the house. I'm sure your mom's made something good to eat.”
Carl grinned, either used to personality changes in Shane, or completely oblivious, and shook Sophia off.
“C’mon,” he said to her. He didn't seem to notice how pale she was. “Let's go get lunch.”
Jimmy and Beth followed, uneasy, but not nearly as bad as Soph who was practically hyperventilating.
“Stay with him,” Dean said to Glenn. “We'll follow you up.”
Glenn nodded and put himself between the kids and Shane. Except for Carl who was chatting away to him like nothing had happened. Shane was replying with laughs and jokes; it made Dean a little sick to the stomach to watch.
Once they were far enough away, Dean kneeled in front of Sophia. “You gotta try and breathe for me, kid.”
Sophia gripped Dean’s hand, eyes wild and fingers shaking. “I… can’t…”
“Alright, sweetheart, that’s okay. I’m gonna put your hand on my chest, okay?”
She nodded.
He slowly pulled her hand into her chest and took slow exaggerated breaths. “Just follow me, Soph. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” She managed a few stuttering breaths, tears wetting her cheeks. “Amazing job, Soph. You’ve got this.”
It took longer than Dean wanted under the heat of the sun for her to finally get her breathing regular again but he kept scanning the horizon to make sure nothing crept up on them. He hated that she cried the whole time but there was nothing he could do until she got her breathing back to normal. Once she did, she threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his chest.
“You’re all right, sweetheart. You’re all right.” He wrapped his arms around her carefully, trying so hard not to break her tiny, fragile body. “Let it out, Soph. I’ve got you.”
When he did another scan of the area, Carol was waiting a little way back. Heartbreak was scrawled across her expression. He tilted his head in invitation but she shook her head, eyes wet with tears. She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth and used it to quiet her own sobs. Dean didn’t draw attention to her, just held Sophia closer and let her purge whatever she needed out of her little body. Carol seemed to be doing the same.
Dean scanned the horizon again, and when he glanced back at Carol, Daryl had her wrapped in a hug from behind, whispering in her ear as she sobbed. He slowly lowered her to the ground, letting her lean forward and almost heave the grief out of her.
Soph was starting to quiet in his arms, weighing more heavily on him like she was too exhausted to hold herself up.
“Sorry,” she whispered into his shoulders. “Shane is…”
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, cupping the back of her head, half to comfort her and half to make sure she wouldn’t see Carol. “Shane is scary when he gets loud.”
“Like my dad.”
“My dad got loud too. I never liked that.”
She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Can we go find my mom now?”
“Sure,” he glanced over at Carol. She had mostly managed to get it together but Dean waved at her and Daryl to head back to the house first so she could wash her face. “Can we hug for just one more minute?”
She tightened her arms again and settled into the cradle of his legs, growing heavier and heavier until her breathing relaxed completely.
“Soph?” he whispered.
She didn’t reply, fast asleep. Between the walk to the shooting range, the morning of shooting, and the panic attack, it made sense the kid would have knocked out. He shifted gently until he was sure he could pick her up without waking her and then did just that. He hoisted her up and shifted until he was sure she was comfortable, and then he headed back to the house.
It reminded him of the day he found her.
So much had changed since then, and he wasn’t sure all of it was good. Daryl was probably pissed at him, Shane was definitely unstable, angry, at the very least, but almost certainly homicidal, and he had no idea how to help Lori or Carol. He couldn’t even help Soph. All he could do was calm her down and help let her sleep.
He had no words to help her feel better about her abusive fuck of a father because he had no words for himself about his own abusive fuck of a father.
Sophia slept through him passing her over to Carol in the RV. She mumbled a little as she settled but Carol ran a soothing hand over her hair and she settled again.
“Thank you,” Carol whispered as Dean stood up, “for everything.”
He shrugged. “Wasn’t anything special. I’ll make sure someone brings you both food in a bit.”
She nodded and pressed a kiss to Sophia’s hairline.
Dean left, silently.
Daryl was waiting for him on the porch to the house with Glenn. Dean glanced around instead of meeting Daryl’s eyes; Dale and Andrea were on top of the RV, and he could see Maggie, Hershel and T-Dog still out by the well doing something that was probably important and necessary.
Lori sat by the RV doing some laundry with Beth. Jimmy and Carl were with them, wringing out the clothes as they were handed them. Shane was meant to be walking the perimeter with Rick so hopefully he had headed back to him. He was nowhere in sight anyway.
“Shane?”
Glenn shrugged. “Carl realised that Rick didn’t have a partner without Shane there so that sent him scurrying back to Rick quick.”
“Beth? Jimmy?”
“They’re okay,” Glenn said. “Beth was upset so Lori asked her for some help to distract her.”
Daryl didn’t look at Dean when he said, “We nee’ ta do somethin’ about ‘im.”
“I’ll get Lori to make a decision today and we can follow through tonight.” Dean didn’t look at Daryl either. “This can’t go on any longer.”
Glenn glanced between the two of them. “I think I’m gonna help Lori with the laundry. Why don’t you two talk?” He cheerfully jumped down the steps of the porch and left them alone.
Daryl sighed and leaned his arms down on the wooden rail. “Ya wanna talk?”
“Not really,” he replied, walking up the steps and leaning down beside Daryl. He left enough distance that they didn’t touch. “I’m sorry.”
“Fer wha’?”
“This morning.” He let his head drop down between his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have… I made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have…” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
“Told ya to sleep in the bed with me.”
“Didn’t tell me to cuddle up with you like a goddamn clingy morning after.” Dean forced a chuckle out. “I’m not some bunny boiler. Know we’re not… Anyway, let’s just forget it happened, yeah?”
“If that’s wha’ you wan’.”
Dean didn’t know how to read his tone, or understand what was hidden under his words, so he just nodded. “We good, man?”
“We were always good.” Daryl pushed himself back up. “We should eat. Get bac’ ta work.”
Disappointment clawed at Dean’s chest but he pushed it away. “Catch anything? I can make something.”
“Lori has it cookin’.”
Daryl walked down the stairs and towards the RV without looking back.
Dean eventually followed him.
***
“I need you to make a decision,” Dean said to Lori twenty minutes into their perimeter watch. He was meant to be with Daryl but had switched out so that he could have some time alone with Lori. “I know you don’t want to. I know this is a shitty situation but I can’t leave him wandering around any longer. Not after scaring the kids. He’s getting more erratic. I need to do something.”
Lori wrung her fingers together and then ran them through her hair. “What do you want to do?”
He put a hand on her elbow to stop her walking. “I want to call a meeting and lay it all out in front of everyone. No warnings for anyone in advance. Give them the three options and see what happens.”
“That will be messy.”
“Yatzi,” Dean said with an impish grin. He let the smile drop off his face. “Some people haven’t seen him yet. Andrea. Rick. They don’t see what we see. I need him to react truthfully and I need them to understand exactly who he is.”
“He could hurt someone.”
“Daryl would shoot him in the eye before he had the chance.”
She laughed a little wetly at that. “You would, you mean.”
Dean shrugged because it was true and it would prefer not to have Daryl do any more killing for him. As much as the man had tried to hide it, Dean knew he had been upset about killing the men at the bar.
“If I wanted to leave, or if people vote to have him stay, do you know somewhere I could go that would be safe?”
He wanted to tell her he wouldn't let Shane stay but the truth was if these people wanted to keep Shane then Dean would let them. Only he would be gone by the next morning and he'd bring whoever wanted to go with him.
He nodded. “Yeah, I know a safe place. I'd get you, the baby and Carl there. Get you set up. You've got options. I'll give you options.”
She squeezed his hand and some of the tension released from her shoulders. It made her look younger. “If you think killing him is the right thing to do, I trust you.” Her eyes widened like she hadn’t meant to say that. She shook her head. “I do though. I have no idea where you came from but I am so glad you found Sophia and stayed with us. Rick was…” she glanced over at the forest just beyond the fence they were patrolling. “He wanted to lead the group. Keep people safe. It’s who he is. But Carl needs him more than ever. I need him. And everyone else needs you.”
“I don’t want to be needed,” Dean admitted weakly. “I just want to be by myself.”
Lori reached up and gently rubbed the hair off his forehead. It was an intensely maternal gesture and it made something sharp and painful cut through his chest.
“You’ve got this look in your eyes.” She stared at him intently. “You’re lonely and you’re in so much pain you don’t know what to do with yourself and I’m pretty sure it started before all of this.”
He took in a shuddering breath. “My dad died, and a few years later my brother, best friend and surrogate dad died. That was about six months ago now.”
“Jesus, how are you still upright?”
Dean huffed out a wet laugh that sounded a little like Daryl’s. “A lot of booze before, ya know, night of the living dead. And now, I help people where I can. Stop evil as much as possible.”
“Do you consider Shane evil?”
“What he did to you in the CDC,” Dean shook his head. “I don’t like it when people cause pain to other people. I don’t like…” He tried not to think about Hell, about how much he liked it, how it gave him a place to put his own pain. No matter how many people he saved, no matter that he had saved the whole goddamn world, that knowledge would always be with him. He had hurt people and he had liked it. And now he hated anyone else who liked it because he hated himself. “He’s dangerous. Not evil. I’ve met real evil, and Shane would quiver in the face of it.”
“You have some stories you could tell, couldn’t you?”
“You wouldn’t sleep for a week,” Dean said with a small smirk. “C’mon. We better keep moving otherwise the boss’ll have words.”
She laughed that bright, easy laugh. He had yet to hear it in front of anyone else. “Yeah, Daryl is the real hardass.”
Dean ducked his head to hide his blush and started moving. “Shut up,” he muttered and checked the fence ahead for any breaches.
***
Dean caught up with Daryl after his watch.
The man was sitting outside his tent. A cigarette hung from his lips and his hands flicked with quick, confident movements as he sliced the skin from a squirrel. His head was down so his hair hung in front of his eyes meaning Dean had a few moments to examine him. Daryl was wearing another shirt with the sleeves cut off and every sure slice of his knife made the muscles in his forearms and his biceps bunch up in a way that made Dean’s mouth a little dry.
“Hey,” Dean said as soon as he saw Daryl’s shoulder tense like he knew he was being watched. Because of course he did. “Lori gave her blessing to hold the meeting tonight.”
“Good.” He didn’t look up from his work. “Ya tellin’ Rick?”
“Nah. Better he sees it in person.” Dean crouched down opposite Daryl. “Are we okay, man?”
Daryl nodded without looking up. “Fine.”
He swallowed the sick feeling in his stomach and nodded. “Alright then.”
Daryl finished the last squirrel and tied it up beside the others. “Need to get these to Carol. She wants ta cook ‘em fer dinner.”
“I’ll walk over with you.”
Daryl shook his head. “Bette’ rest before tonigh’. Gonna be a tough meetin’.”
“Yeah,” he said, failing to keep the hurt out of his voice. He coughed. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”
He crawled into his tent, not bothering to take his boots off, and didn’t try to listen to Daryl walk away. It wasn’t like he’d be able to anyway; Daryl had too much skill to let someone hear him as he left them behind, and Dean had plenty of experience at being left, he didn’t need the practice in listening.
***
After dinner — a tense, quiet affair — everyone trouped up to the house, muttering among themselves as they tried to figure out why another meeting had been called when everything was going so well. Shane was bitching to Andrea, loud enough for everyone to hear, about how they never had to have this many meetings when he was in charge.
Dean rolled his eyes, missing Daryl by his side. The other man was walking with Carol and Sophia; they looked like a perfect family. Especially when Sophia laughed and Daryl did his version of a smile. Glenn caught Dean’s eyes and looked between him and Daryl with wide eyes as if to say what the fuck?
Dean rolled his eyes again, this time at Glenn, before taking the steps two at a time and heading into the sitting room. The Greenes and Jimmy were already gathered together, waiting. As they set up, Sophia disappeared into the bedroom with Carl, Beth and Jimmy. Dean had decided that they weren’t going to be present for any of this.
Hershel had agreed and so had Lori and Carol. The kids not so much but one look from Dean and they had settled. He had no idea what to do with that sort of authority.
Dean stood by the fireplace and waited for everyone to get settled in their usual places. Shane stood by the stairs as always with his arms crossed and his eyes locked on Dean. Daryl was by the window, crossbow hanging casually at his side but it was clear from his stance that he was ready and waiting.
“This isn’t going to be the nicest meeting,” Dean said, dragging his eyes away from Daryl without meeting his eyes. “And it might come as a shock to some of you but it has to be said. It has to be sorted out.”
“What’s going on, Dean?” Rick asked from behind Lori’s chair.
She was almost curled in on herself but she nodded when Dean glanced over at her.
“Shane,” Dean said.
Shane’s eyes narrowed. “What about me?”
“You’re a problem.” Dean stood tall, let his body language do the talking. “You’ve been scaring people. Acting erratic. Putting us all in danger.”
“Fuck you, man. I saved these people. I kept them safe. And then you stroll in and take over, acting like Mr Fucking Important.” Shane strutted forward, confident as he ever was, but his hands were fisted at his sides. “Just because I don’t want to waste my time cooking when I could be out protecting my fucking fami—” he cut himself off with a violent finality.
“Who’s family?” Rick said, voice cold in a way Dean had never heard before. “I appreciate you helping them when I wasn’t there, Shane. You know that. But I’m back now. And you are family, of course, you are, but they aren’t your family.”
Shane clenched his jaw so tight that the muscles stuck out. “I didn’t mean it like that, Rick. I just meant that I kept them safe when you weren’t there to do it, that’s all.” He dragged his eyes off Rick’s and glared at Dean. “What the fuck right do you have to, what? Put me on trial like this.”
“He’s right,” Andrea said. “This isn’t fair. You’ve completely blindsided us. None of us were expecting this.”
Lori scoffed. “If you haven’t seen it, that’s not our fault.”
Andrea raised an eyebrow at her. “You, of all people, aren’t going to defend him?”
“Lori doesn’t have to defend anyone,” Dean said. “Shane is erratic. He’s becoming violent. What he did at the barn could have gotten someone killed. Shouting at the kids yesterday was unacceptable. Refusing to work with the camp. Refusing to pull his weight. Otis not coming back.” Dean had had to ask Lori the name of the farmhand that Daryl had told him about and she had almost fainted with the shock of Daryl’s theory. “And not to call you all fucking naive, but if you can’t see that this is going to escalate even more, well.”
“Escalate?” Shane roared. “Fucking escalate? Who the hell even are you, man? What right do you have to bring this up? Who gave you the goddamn authority?”
“It’s not about authority,” Dean said quietly but firmly. “This is about everyone’s safety which is why everyone gets a say. So, two options; you leave, or I put a bullet in your head. You chose to leave and then decide to come back, I put a bullet in your head anyway.”
The room erupted with an explosion of noise.
“We don’t kill—”
“Shane hasn’t even done—”
“I’ll fucking kill you if you tr—”
“Everyone calm do—”
“Guys, guys, gu—”
Daryl’s whistle cut through the mayhem, shutting everyone up as they all turned to look at him in surprise.
“Everyon’ shut up. Dean’ll give ya all a chance ta talk if ya just shut up and let ‘im.”
Dean tried not to feel bitter relief that even after everything he'd done to mess up their friendship, Daryl still had his back.
He nodded when everyone, but Daryl, glanced his way, and said, “Shane, why don’t you sit down and let us discuss this. You ain’t staying in this camp, that's already decided, but I’m not going to make other people stay either. Everyone is here by choice. We’ll send you out there with enough food and water to survive. Weapons too.”
“Dean,” Rick said once everyone had settled again. “I don’t think expelling Shane is the right decision. We need as many able-bodied men as possible and Shane is one of our best shots. He has done more for these people than most, and more for me than everyone. And he’s my best friend, I can vouch for his character.” He startled a little under the glare that Dean shot him — so much for Rick understanding what dealing with the problem meant. “I know that Shane has been acting irrationally. I know that he hasn’t been behaving right but I thought we were going to talk to him about it. Not vote him out like this is some sort of reality TV show.”
Lori stiffened but didn’t say anything; Rick didn’t notice.
“Thanks, man,” Shane said in that snake charming voice of his. “I really appreciate the support. I’ve fought for this group. Made sure to keep the camp running at the quarry. Tried my best to keep people alive. I know I failed,” he said, glancing over at Andrea with a deep sorrow on his face that Dean didn’t believe for a minute. “I know and I carry it with me. I’m doing my best,” he wiped his eyes, “but I’m struggling under everything we’ve lost. I know it’s been making me short tempered. I know I’m failing.” He dug his heels into his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Bullshit.”
Shocked eyes shot to Dean’s face.
“I’ve known men like you my whole life.” Dean stared directly at Shane, unflinching. “And I know exactly how fucking charming they can be. How fucking charming I’m sure most people in this room think you are. But I’m not fooled. Daryl is not fooled. Neither is Carol or Glenn.” He didn’t mention Lori, didn’t want to force her into the limelight. “You can sit there and cry your sad boy crocodile tears all you want but you aren’t fooling us.”
Shane’s eyes darkened but he managed to keep his face calm enough. Dean had had enough run in with cops to know cop face when he saw it. He wasn’t fooled.
“This is insane,” Andrea said. “Making him leave the camp is a death sentence.”
“And we don’t kill,” Dale said. “That is not who we are. If we go down that path, well,” he clenched his hat in tight hands, “the world we know may be gone, but keeping our humanity? That is a choice.”
“I say we vote,” Glenn said. “Without Shane in the room for protection from reprisals.”
Shane snorted.
“I think that might be for the best. Shane, why don’t you go sit on the porch while we figure this out.”
“I’ll go with him,” Andrea said. “I’m voting for him to stay anyway.”
“No,” Daryl said.
Andrea glared at him. “Excuse me?”
“Everyone stays and hears everyone out,” Dean said. “Otherwise your vote doesn’t count.”
T-Dog, who had been sitting quietly on the windowsill, finally stood up. “The vote is a good idea,” he said quietly. “Too much of this group had its decisions made for them. Especially by you two.” He pointed at Rick and Shane. “Since Dean came along, the group has been working cohesively. Everyone has jobs and everyone has a say. Everyone gets training now. I trust Dean. If he thinks this is something we need to address then I think we should take that seriously.”
“Seconded,” Glenn said. “We’ve all chosen Dean to lead us, and so far, he’s been doing it better than anyone else. And it’s not just him,” Glenn crossed his arms. He was standing beside Maggie, shoulders touching. “I’ve noticed it. He upset Sophia so much today, she ended up having a panic attack. That is not acceptable.”
“So I scared a scared little girl,” Shane snarled. “She’ll grow out of it.”
“You sound a lot like Ed,” Carol said in a cold, harsh voice. “How is she going to grow out of it, Shane? You going to bully it out of her? Beat it out of her?”
Shane leapt to his feet. “Fuck you,” he growled, stalking over to Carol. “How fucking dare you compare me—”
Before he got too close a bolt landed in the ground by his feet.
Daryl had his feet planted and had already reloaded his crossbow. It was aimed at Shane's head. “Any closer ta her and th’ next one goes through yer eye.”
Carol had a knife in her hand as well. “I will not hesitate to stab you.”
“Shane, man, sit down,” Rick said. “This isn’t helping your case.”
Shane glanced around, seeming to realise that half the people in the group had their hands on their weapons and the other half were staring at him in something like horror.
“I’ll be on the porch,” he growled and stalked out of the room.
“Look,” Dean said into the silence that fell after Shane had slammed the door, “I know we’re all scared of becoming something that we’re not, of doing something that can’t be undone, but that doesn’t mean that we get to shirk our responsibilities to those children, to this group, and to everyone’s safety. Shane is a danger and at least half of us can see that. The rest of you need to decide what you think.”
The conversation was less loud this time. Less violent. But no less intense. Dean listened to them go back and forth; discussions about forgiveness, and God’s will, about the logistics of sending Shane away, and the possibility of him coming back. No one talked about killing him.
Dean and Daryl didn’t look at each other. Not once. Dean pretended like he didn’t care. Pretended his chest didn’t ache with missing a man less than half a room away.
Finally Carol stood up. “This is getting us nowhere. We didn't ask for this.” She looked to Dean with something like an apology in her eyes. “You can't ask us to decide something like this. You’ve been out there, Dean. You understand this world better than any of us. Please decide... either of you, both of you…” she pointed to Rick but left Daryl out of it. Protecting him, probably. “But leave me out of it. I cannot do this and then look Sophia in the eye."
Dean nodded. “If that is what people want, I can make this decision. I can do that. I wanted this to be fair, but Carol is right, I have been making these types of decisions for far longer than this shitshow of an apocalypse has been going on.
“You need someone to make the hard decisions for you, I can do that. You need someone to get their hands dirty, I can do that too. But I never, never want to take the choice away from you. I never want to treat you like children.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Anyone who doesn’t want a part of this can leave now.”
Lori stood up. “Dean knows my position on this but I will say this much. If Shane stays, I go.” She didn't wait for anyone to reply; just left the room without a backwards glance.
“Lori,” Rick said, looking torn between staying and going. He stared after the empty doorway with desperate eyes. His knuckles were white with how tightly he was gripping the chair in front of him. “She can’t… I can’t…”
Carol stood suddenly. “Sophia and I will go wherever Lori and Carl go. We’re not leaving her alone.”
“I wouldn’t leave her…” Rick started but it didn’t matter because Carol had already left the room. “I wouldn’t,” he said quietly.
Silence fell for a few moments before Hershel stood. “I have also been around men like Shane. I have seen as that darkness eats them alive, and how they will always, always, find someone to take that anger out on. Now I have spent little time with Shane, but if what Dean said is true about Otis, then I want that man off my property by tomorrow morning.”
Rick shook his head. “Shane would never—”
“He did,” Daryl interrupted. “You saw him after. He’s been getting worse since that night.”
Dean watched Daryl; how tense his shoulders were and how his fingers moved up and down along the line of his crossbow. “I didn’t know Shane before,” he said, “but I trust Daryl and I trust that he is right.”
Hershel nodded. “So do I.”
Daryl didn’t acknowledge either of them but Dean saw how the tips of his ears flushed when he tilted his head down.
Glenn glanced between everyone and said, “Everyone has to see how he has changed since Otis died.”
“He saw a man eaten to death,” Rick snapped. “Of course he’s changed.”
Dale took a step forward. “We cannot kill him. If we do that, we lose everything we are. We lose our most basic humanity.”
“You lose everything you are, maybe,” Dean said, trying to keep his frustration and shame out of his voice, “but I have killed many people and will probably kill many more.”
Dale’s eyes widened as Dean spoke.
Dean didn’t look at anyone else, didn’t want to see the disgust currently scrawled across Dale’s face. “Your experience is not my experience. The things I have done to survive, the things I have seen,” he shook his head. “Dale, you seem like a good guy but you have no idea about this world and you’re not going to survive if you don’t catch up.”
Rick stepped forward, hands out like he was calming a wild animal. “Let me talk to Shane. Let me see what he has to say. Just let me talk to him.”
“I think it’s a bad idea,” Dean said.
“You’re talking about killing a man,” Andrea said. “The least you can do is your due diligence and see if he can be saved first.”
Dean knew this was a bad idea; like he had known Sam meeting Lilith in that motel room was a bad idea; like he knew saying yes to Micheal was a bad idea; like he knew going to Ben and Lisa was a bad idea; like he knew falling for Daryl was a bad fucking idea.
Still, he asked, “Everyone wants this? Let Rick try to talk to Shane one more time?” Enough people nodded that Dean shrugged. “Just so you know if Shane stays, I’ll be leaving with Lori and Carol. Anyone who wants to join us will be more than welcome.”
He almost strained his neck not looking over at Daryl.
***
After sorting out watch and having a quick chat with Rick to let him know he had until sunrise to have his conversation with Shane, he went to find Lori.
She was sitting outside the kids bedroom, listening through the cracked door as they compared stories about the grossest zombie they had seen. Carol sat opposite her, eyes closed and head tilted up to the ceiling. She wasn’t asleep but she was calm, chest rising up and down. She didn’t move when she heard Dean’s footsteps but her hand shifted over to her knife.
Dean appreciated that. “Just me,” He said as he slid down the wall next to Lori and nudged her with his shoulders. “You okay?” he asked quietly, making sure that the kids wouldn’t hear. “You need anything?”
“You’d leave with me?” she asked with an almost smile. “I was listening from the hall,” she said in response to his raised eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t want people.”
He shrugged. “Some of you are alright.”
She laughed quietly. “You, my friend, are as soft as they come under all those flannels and scowls.”
“Friends, eh? Guess that means your pretty soft too.”
“Nah,” she held up her knife, managing an almost passable twirl. Not nearly as good as Jo but she would get there. “I’m the toughest one here.”
“Think that might be Daryl,” Carol said.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “You’re probably right.”
“Where would we go?” Carol asked, without opening her eyes. Dean felt the trust in that gesture down to his bones. “Lori said you know a place. A safe place.”
Lori didn’t look at him as she put her knife back into her sheath but Dean could tell she was desperate for the answer as well.
“We have two options. The first one is Woodbury. It was messed up when I found it but I cleared the bad out and left a group of women in charge. I found Michonne on the road.” He didn’t mention how she had been slightly insane with grief at the time. She had managed to get a hold of that in the short time they had travelled together so it wasn't like it mattered now. “She helped me take down the Governor and stayed behind to help run the place. They have doctors, schools. Not the best defenses but hopefully they’ll have fixed that by now.”
“What’s the other option?” Carol asked.
“There’s a prison a few miles down the road. I wasn’t able to take it by myself but we could. All of us. And it would have an infirmary. Food. An armoury. Walls and fences.” He quieted down when the kids went silent and then they all burst out laughing. Carl said something that made them laugh even harder. “Downside, there is a hole in the side of it, but once we fixed the gap in the fence, we could clear everything out.”
“If they kick Shane out,” Lori asked, “do you think we should stay here?”
He shook his head. “Not if Hershel keeps refusing to let us add protection.” He shook his head again. “No, I don't. I don’t trust this area. Those women I helped free? The men we met in town? That camp was close to here. Too close for me to ever feel comfortable without real walls and real protection.”
Carol finally looked at him; her eyes were dark and serious. “I don’t want a man making decisions for me again. Not ever.”
Dean nodded because he understood more of what Carol had been through now. Glenn had told him a lot of what had happened at the quarry and he'd seen enough between her and Sophia to know the scars that would probably always remain.
“But you have proven quite a few times that you listen when people speak, when women speak, so I’m willing to listen when you speak.” Carol fiddled with the knife sheath on her thigh. “I’m willing to see Woodbury but I would prefer that Sophia was behind real fences while she learns how to protect herself. I want my daughter to know at least some safety. Even in this world.”
“I want Carl to have the same, and this little bean,” Lori said, hands on her stomach, “but I would also like to be near a doctor. Being pregnant in all of this, it’s terrifying.”
Before Dean could answer, before he even knew what he should say, Glenn came pounding up the stairs.
“Walkers,” he gasped out. “A fucking giant herd of them.”
Dean was on his feet before the words even fully registered. “Get the kids,” he shouted as he took the stairs two at a time, clattering down and landing heavily. He found everyone on the porch, watching the far fields where at least a hundred walkers were stumbling towards the house.
“I’m not leaving,” Hershel said. “This is my home. I will die defending it.”
“Then you’ll die,” Dean growled. “And your girls will die, and everyone here will die. We can’t take a herd that big. They’ll tear the damn house down.”
“I’m fighting.”
“You don’t even have a gun.”
“This is a farm, son. I can get myself a gun.”
Dean shrugged. “Fine. Anyone who wants to fight and die, go ahead. Anyone who wants to keep living needs to make sure the vans are stocked. We need blankets, clothes, and as much food as you can fit.”
Glenn, Dale, Andrea, and Maggie disappeared into the house without question. Beth and Jimmy stood in the doorway, clutching hands and staring at the herd in fear. Carol had Sophia pulled into her chest. Lori was doing the same with Carl. Rick and Shane were nowhere to be seen.
Daryl stood by Dean’s side, hand on his crossbow and eyes on the horizon.
Dean ignored the urge to step closer to him. “Get the kids out of here first,” he said gruffly. “I’m not letting them get hurt.” Pale faces stared back at him. “Who’s coming with us? Who’s staying?”
“I’ll go with Lori, Carol and the kids,” T-Dog said. “The church van is stuffed full. We won’t fit much else into it except people. Where are we meeting?”
Dean closed his eyes for a second. “The highway where you left the note for Soph,” he finally said. “The Miller house is too close to the herd.”
He turned to Lori and Carol. “That alright with your two?”
“Rick isn’t here,” Loro said, hands wrapped around Carl. “You’ll find him.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She nodded. “We’ll go then.”
“Mom,” Carl whined but Lori shook her head.
She glanced at Carol who nodded and said, “We’ll go. But you better come after us. Both of you.”
Daryl nodded but didn’t speak.
“We will,” Dean promised even as the words made his guts squirm. He grabbed the map off the porch table and circled Woodbury on it. “If we end up lost, tell Michonne Dean sent you and tell her I said, saving people, hunting things, the family business. She’ll trust those words.” He turned to Hershel. “Are Jimmy and Beth going with them or are they staying here?”
The to die hung in the air between them.
The groan of walkers was getting louder.
Hershel glared at him but the tension finally went out of his frame. “We’ll leave. We’ll go. But one day I am coming back to my home.”
Dean nodded; there were no promises he could make to guarantee that. “You know the house best,” he said to Hershel. “Grab every medication, every useful weapon, every bit of warm clothes, anything you think we’ll need for winter. Daryl and I are going to find Rick.”
Daryl finally looked at Dean; he didn’t meet his eyes. “Bike?”
“Yeah.”
A gunshot rang out across the fields.
Everyone froze.
“Shit. Move,” Dean shouted. “That is going to rile them up. You all have ten minutes and then you’re out of here. No looking back. I don’t care who is missing. Got it?”
They nodded, faces pale and drawn.
“Go,” Dean ordered and hated that he sounded like his dad. “Get to safety.”
Daryl was already on the bike, engine roaring and Dean was just grateful he had moved it closer to the house.
The second Dean threw his leg over it, Daryl took off. Dean didn’t care about the noise of his guns now. In fact they were a benefit because they drew the walkers to them and away from the others.
They crisscrossed over the fields, shooting whenever they had a clear head shot. They shouted Rick’s name, over and over, waiting each time to see if he replied. It was only when the barn went up in an explosion of burning yellow that they found him. Rick raced down over the roof of the RV that was parked up alongside the barn and jumped down, racing towards the house.
Dean tapped Daryl and the man turned the bike in the direction of the house.
It was surrounded by walkers, groaning and shuffling, pushing into the walls and making the house scream under the weight of so many bodies. Daryl maneuvered around them with expert skill as Dean searched for Rick.
“We have to go,” Daryl shouted over the noise as reaching hands almost dragged him off the bike. “Dean, we have to go.”
“Go,” Dean shouted over the noise of the engine and the growl of the dead. He sliced at the reaching hands, holding on to Daryl with just the strength of his thighs. “Get us out of here.”
It took longer than Dean wanted to break free of the stragglers but eventually they roared away from them and raced up the same road Daryl had driven them down a little over a month before. They pulled out onto the highway, barely avoiding the last few remaining walkers, stumbling down the dirt road that led to the farm.
The highway itself was clear.
They didn’t try to talk now. Dean’s arms were shaking from the last few rounds and his thighs were spasming from trying to hold on. Praying that he wasn’t crossing a line he rested his hands on Daryl's hips, and when he wasn’t shaken off, he leaned forward and rested his head between Daryl’s shoulder blades. His whole body was shaking with adrenaline and exhaustion and a little bit of fear.
He didn’t trust in God, and he sure as hell didn’t believe in those dickbag angels, but if there was any piece of Cas left that was still out there, Dean prayed that he had kept his people safe. Because Dean knew now that he had people, that he had a responsibility for those people and that he wasn't leaving them.
Despite his best intentions, Dean had become a leader in the middle of the apocalypse just like he had always been fated to do.
Fuck the angels. Fuck the apocalypse. Fuck all of this.
When Daryl tapped his thigh, Dean blinked wretched tiredness from his eyes and lifted his head, heart pounding. He so desperately wanted everyone to make it. When Daryl stopped, Dean squeezed his hips once and got off the bike. He didn’t look back as he walked over to the group, not wanting to know what expression Daryl’s face held.
Dean knew he had crossed another line with the man, but he needed some comfort. Just for a few short minutes.
“Everyone make it?” he asked as soon as he got close enough to the group.
The expressions on their faces told him that they hadn’t.
“Who?”
“Jimmy got bit,” Maggie said, voice breaking. “We had to put him down.” She rubbed tears from her eyes. “He asked us to.”
Beth sobbed into Hershel’s chest. “We got almost everything we needed,” he said, sounding hoarse and tired. “Jimmy managed to get us some more fuel. Got bit doing it. That boy was a hero. He saved Beth.”
As little as Dean had known him, he knew Jimmy had been a good kid.
Dean pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and took a shuddering breath. A warm hand landed between his shoulder blades and he let out a shuddering breath. Daryl was right there in the same place he had been for weeks. Dean let out a wet breath and then tucked the pain away.
“Okay, we need to move. Get somewhere defensible for the night.” He glanced around at the heartbroken and exhausted faces staring back at him. Shane's was missing but he didn't have the energy to figure out where he was right now. “Maggie, you’ve done the most runs around here, where do you suggest?”
Maggie stood up from where she was leaning against Glenn. “There are a couple of empty farmhouses, but with that herd, it’s probably better to move further away. Honestly? I’d suggest we stay out in the open, near the woods but also somewhere defensible." She glanced at Hershel. “Are the ruins of the old Maguire place still there?”
He nodded. “Should be.”
“That’ll put a wall at our back but is close enough to the road that we can move quickly. It’ll be warm enough for tonight to be outside.”
Dean nodded. “You know how to get there? Can lead the cars?”
“Glenn can drive. I’ll direct.”
She headed for the pickup truck and slowly everyone followed, setting themselves back up in the cars they had arrived in. Dean glanced at Daryl, who nodded at his bike. He got on the back but he didn’t dare lay his hands on Daryl again.
He didn’t know if he would be welcome, and he didn’t think he would stop if he was allowed to touch the other man again.
***
They set up camp in the stone remains of a very old house. Only two walls still existed but it was exactly as good as Maggie had said. They set up sleeping bags and lit a fire with the walls to their backs and then parked the cars in front of them to make another barrier. Dean set T-Dog and Dale up on the wall for the first watch with Maggie and Glenn on top of the cars.
Everyone else settled down to eat; Dean was just glad that he had made them keep the cars stocked. No one was going to bed hungry tonight.
The adrenaline had slowly seeped out of the group and the tears had started. Lori held Carl into her side, despite the boy's complaining, and glared at Rick across the fire. Beth was cuddled into Hershel. She hadn’t stopped crying since Dean had finally declared the all clear and let people settle down for the night. Daryl sat to Dean’s right, Soph to his left and Carol beside her. Andrea leaned against the wall, below where Dale sat on watch, and was clearly already half asleep.
Only Rick paced, back and forth. “What are we going to do?” he finally snapped. “The farm was safe. We were safe. We can't stay out here. Not with women and children. What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to follow Dean to Woodbury,” Lori said.
“Dean?” Rick scoffed. “Dean? The man who pushed my best friend over the edge? The man who swanned into camp a month ago and has done nothing but take it over since then? Why should I trust him?”
“Rick—” Dean started but Rick interrupted.
“I killed my best friend for you people, for Christ's sake,” Rick shouted. “I thought we would talk to him. I thought when you said we would deal with it…” He pointed his finger at Dean. “I trusted you. I thought you knew what you were doing. But he wouldn't listen. Not after what you did. He gave me no choice.” Rick scrubbed his eyes viciously. “He was my friend, but he came after me. My hands are clean.”
Dean pushed himself up. “We’re going for a walk. C’mon.”
Rick glared at him for a long moment and then nodded curtly.
Daryl stood up too. He shrugged when Dean glanced at him. “Ya’ll ge’ lost if I let you wander in the woods at night.”
Dean could have argued but he wanted Daryl there. He was starting to realise that he always wanted Daryl by his side. He just shrugged instead and led them away from the camp. He felt the eyes of the watch on his back until he disappeared into the treeline.
Dean stopped in a clearing and leaned against a tree, crossing his arms. His crossbow hung off his shoulder, his machete sheath dug into his spine and his hands could reach his knives and guns in barely a movement.
“Rick, man, I’m sorry about Shane.”
Daryl stood on the other side of the clearing, crossbow halfway raised and eyes checking the trees. They kept flashing back to Rick every few seconds.
“Maybe you’d be better off without me as well.” Rick didn’t bother looking at Dean as he spoke. “You think you can do better, Dean? Let's see how far you get. My family’s lives are in your hands. My best friend is dead because of you.”
“Your best friend is dead because he took a swan dive off sanity and straight into crazy town.” Dean kept his body language calm, kept his voice even. “Rick, I never wanted any of this. All I have is a GED and a give ‘em hell attitude. But here we are. You wanna shout and rage and bitch, go right ahead, but while you’re doing that, I’m gonna be getting these people to safety. You can decide if you want to come with us, or leave.”
“I can’t drag Carl and Lori off in the middle of the apocalypse.”
Dean grinned bitterly. “Yeah, I don’t think Lori would go with you.”
Rick ran his hands through his hair. “I killed my best friend.”
Dean thought of Cas exploding, of Bobby’s neck cracking, of Sam falling into the pit. “It gets easier,” he lied. “You’ll always have to carry it but it gets lighter the longer you do.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I’ve killed people before, and some of those people meant more to me than you would ever know.” He pushed himself up off the tree. “Rick, it’s the end of the world. We keep our people safe for as long as we can. That's all we have left.”
Rick took a shuddering breath and nodded. He didn’t say anything else. Just turned and walked back to the camp. Daryl followed him but Dean stayed where he was, staring up at the sky and trying to figure out how he got here. He missed his family like a physical ache in his chest. He missed Sam and Bobby and Cas. He missed his shitty dad. He missed hunting small time monsters and driving his car and sleeping in shitty motel rooms and eating terrible food.
A branch cracked to his right.
Dean had his crossbow up before he had even really registered the sound.
Daryl almost grinned as he stepped out of the trees. “Good to know you aren’ completely useless.”
Dean gave him the finger but didn’t bother relaxing back against the tree. Adrenaline made his heart pound. He was acutely aware that they were alone, completely alone with no chance of interruption, for the first time since that night. Dean didn’t know how to categorize the feelings in his chest.
Daryl huffed out a laugh, and then said, easy as anything, “Been avoidin’ ya.”
“I know.”
“I woke up tha’ morning and ya were righ’ there. Right there.” Daryl wasn’t looking at him; his eyes were still moving, back and forth. Always checking. Always on alert. “And I wanted ya more than anythin’.”
Dean took a shuddering breath. “Daryl,” he whispered.
He shook his head. “I don’ know how ta do this but I don’t want ta lose ya. Not before I’ve even had ya.”
Dean dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and prayed to Cas that he wasn’t misunderstanding what Daryl was saying.
When he took his hands away, Daryl was in front of him.
He walked Dean backwards until he hit a tree, and then he kept coming.
The heat of his body pressed into Dean’s, filling in the cold places he had started to learn to live with. Hard muscle pressed up against him; he felt like he might lose his mind with how good it felt. He dragged his hands down Daryl’s back, scraping his nails along his flannel shirt and pulling him closer. The tree bark was rough against the back of Dean’s neck and Daryl’s lips were rough on Dean’s, but still somehow, gentle.
They didn't go further than trading soft close mouthed kisses but Dean couldn't help gripping Daryl’s hips, desperately afraid that Daryl would disappear if he let go.
Dean shifted his leg and Daryl groaned into his mouth.
Dean’s knees went embarrassingly weak.
He had no idea how long it took them to stop; all he knew was that his lips were tingling by the time they did. Eventually though, Daryl pulled back and then stepped back. Cold air filled all the spaces his body had been.
Dean wanted to pull Daryl back into him. “So, that is a thing we’re doing now.”
“Suppose so.”
“And you’re okay with us doing it again?”
Daryl shrugged again but then he darted forward and kissed Dean again. “See how we feel.”
Dean grinned as they started back to camp, grin growing every time their elbows bumped off each other. He had no real idea what they were, or how long he would be able to keep Daryl for, but if he had learned anything, it was that he had to hold on to the good for as long as he could.
Just before they reached the light of the camp, Daryl touched his wrist. “Are ya ever gonna tell me what ya did before all this started?”
Caught off guard, Dean asked, “Why?”
“Because of what you said to Rick,” he said as he glanced around the trees, “about having to put down people you loved. All that training your daddy made you do. How suited you are for this world. You ever gonna trust me with that?
Dean eyed him, knowing how much it had taken Daryl to ask a question like that. “I’ll tell you but it’s gonna be a lot to take in. You’re probably gonna think I’m insane.”
“Dead are walking. Can’t get more crazy than tha’.”
Dean grinned suddenly. “You ever seen a chupacabra?”
“Once,” he replied quietly. “But no one believed me.”
“I believe you,” Dean said as sincerely as he could, “because chupacabras are real, and the fact you’ve seen one, might make my story a little easier to swallow. Once we’re settled in Woodbury, I’ll tell you everything, and you can tell me how sane you still think I am after.”
Daryl huffed out a laugh and led them back to the camp.
***
It took them a few days to reach Woodbury but they were lucky.
No herds. No people. Barely even any bad weather.
He didn’t recognise the man and woman guarding the wall but he did recognise his wall design. He left everyone but Daryl hiding in the trees and walked up the road leading to the town, hands up and away from his weapons.
“Hey,” he called as soon as they noticed him. “Michonne still running this place?”
Two guns were pointed his way. “Who’s asking?”
“Dean Winchester.”
“Holy shit,” the man said. “Are you actually Dean? Michonne told us all about you.”
Dean shrugged. “She around?”
The woman turned and whistled a short, sharp sound that echoed down the street. It took a few minutes and a bit of back and forth before the gates opened. Michonne strolled out, katanas strapped onto her back. She walked straight up to him and punched him. Dean took it with an easy laugh and waved off the crossbow Daryl had already raised.
“No, man,” he said, wiping blood from his lip. “I deserved that one.”
“Yeah, you did. Skipping out in the middle of the night without a goodbye. You’re lucky I didn’t run you through with a blade.” When he’d straightened back up, she hugged him. Violently and at great length. “Screw you, Dean Winchester. You could have called.”
“Tried,” he said, pulling back with a grin. “Would you believe I lost my phone? Dropped it down a hole.”
“I have heard that holes are the real danger out here.”
Dean grinned brightly. “Love what you’ve done with the place. New walls are a nice touch.”
“Yeah, well, a drifter told me how to better protect ourselves.” She glared at him. “Then he drifted away.”
“I have people for you,” he said, instead of addressing that. “They need somewhere safe.”
She grinned. “We have room.”
“They have training.”
Michonne smirked. “I’m not interested in finding people,” she said in a gruff voice. “I’m a sad little lone wolf.”
Dean rolled his eyes and pushed her. “Is that meant to be me?”
“Dunno,” she said with an innocent smile. “Introduce me to your group.” She eyed Daryl with an interest Dean didn’t like; she glanced between them and her smile widened. “Introduce me to your bodyguard.”
Dean didn’t blush but he ducked his head just in case. “This is Daryl.” He was already backing up. “I’ll go grab the others. ”
It took a few hours for everyone to get set up, get apartments sorted and supplies exchanged, tours given and people put in on watch duty, for Lori to see the doctor and finally tell Rick about the pregnancy, which led to a very long conversation between them that Dean was glad to avoid. Eventually everyone was settled and Dean managed to escape the constant questions and decisions that needed to be made.
He knew even as he was sneaking off that Daryl was following him.
It was barely two minutes after he had sat down on top of the wall that Daryl sat down beside him. They sat quietly beside each other and looked over the empty streets beyond. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, knees brushing and crossbows resting down on either side of them. Daryl was a warm heat down Dean’s side; he wanted to bury his face in his shoulder and sleep.
Gold and umber light made the sky glow in front of them as the sun set. The leaves were starting to turn orange and fall off their branches. They were rolling over the black tarmac like litter.
Everything was calm.
Everything was quiet.
Dean let the feeling wash over him, revelling in it, before he said, “I was thinking of taking the prison.”
Daryl glanced over at him. His blue eyes glowed in the dimming light. “How many people do ya think we’d need?”
“The main group would probably be enough.” He ignored the fizzle of something that filled his chest with how easily Daryl backed him up. “But Michonne will probably want to come. Might have some people that want to come too.”
“Take a few days,” Daryl agreed. “Then go check the prison ou’.”
“Yeah, we’ll go by ourselves first. See what we’d need to do.”
They were quiet for a little while longer before Daryl said, “You got a room here?”
“Michonne kept me one. Insisted I had somewhere to come back to.” He’d told her not to bother when he left but she’d shown it to him earlier. She’d decorated it for him. Had made him a home when he thought he would never have one again. When he had seen it, he’d hugged her again, tight and too long with some desperate ache that neither of them would ever admit owning. “Over by the town hall. You?”
Daryl shrugged, ears tipped pink. “Carol offered me one in her new apartmen’. Said I could have the secon’ bedroom if I wante’. She and Soph would share.” He stared at the trees, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “Was thinkin’ maybe I’d stay with you. If ya wanted.”
“I want,” Dean said too fast and then overcorrected by shrugging and saying, “I mean, yeah, sure, whatever suits.”
“I want.” Daryl’s hand inched over until he had wrapped his fingers around Dean’s. “How long do we have until our watch ends?”
“Soon enough,” Dean said. “But I’m pretty okay here, with you.”
“Yeah,” Daryl agreed. “Here ain’t so bad.”