One-shot for now. I had this idea come to me a few weeks back when I first decided to give this show a shot. The rating is pretty much just for language, (come on, it's Daryl). I thought about making this into a full-blown story but for now I just wanted to get this idea out of my head so I could get some real sleep. Let me know if I should continue this or not. ;) Any flames will be crushed and you can bet your ass Daryl will seek you out.

Additionally, the title really has no obvious bearing on this chapter (or maybe it will for some people if you think about it). It would be more suitable to a full-blown story. It's actually a line from a song on Ellie Goulding's album coming out on October 9th titled "Only You", and I just really liked it.


The Only Animal I Couldn't Fight

The first time he saw her she was crawling.

He had been out hunting for the group at the quarry once he realized they would soon be running out of the snacks and supplies they had on them when they first started traveling. It was only a matter of time before they started bitchin' and moanin' about the lack of food, and then what would they do? He wasn't a fuckin' moron, he knew that most of them only spent time outside when it was deemed fun. This wasn't a picnic or backyard barbecue, so he knew when they realized their predicament they would come to the one man who looked like he had been livin' off the land all of his life. He also had a powerful need to get the fuck out of there when their jawin' just became too much for him to handle anymore. There was only so much talkin' a man could take, and most of them didn't have anything important to say anyway.

Swinging his crossbow up onto his shoulder, he pursed his lips into a thin line when he heard a faint rustling coming from nearby. He hadn't seen any tracks around, so he knew something was moving towards him and at an achingly slow pace. All signs pointed to a walker, but they hadn't been so unlucky to see any geeks up here just yet. Their untouched haven, he scoffed in his mind. These people didn't have any clue that the world had turned to shit and it was only a matter of time it would catch up to them.

It always did.

Stepping cautiously through the trees, he stayed low and made sure to avoid anything that might announce his presence to something that might want to make a meal out of him. Not today, asshole, he thought to himself. Not Daryl Dixon.

He paused as he the air grew silent. Now ain't that somethin'? he thought to himself. He couldn't hear anything now. There were no movements, and no sounds. As if whatever was there was trying to be quiet. That definitely ruled out the possibility of a walker - that and the fact that he didn't hear any heavy breathing or moaning or smell decaying flesh. That only left two possibilities - a human or an animal. He had a pretty strong hunch it wasn't an animal, not this close to the survivor's temporary home.

Human it is, then.

Only question was who the fuck was it?

Not lowering his weapon (because you just couldn't be too careful in this fucked up new world), he moved closer to the source of the sound and whipped around some bushes to look down a slight hill that lay beyond the foliage. His narrowed eyes opened slightly as he took a moment to fully comprehend what he was seeing.

"The fuck?" he breathed out to himself as he kept his crossbow trained on the crumpled figure. Darting his eyes over her form, he noticed a few things pretty quickly. One: what clothing she did have on was tattered and dirty. Two: she showed no fear as she looked up into his eyes with a steely gaze. Three: she was covered in a lot of fuckin' blood, but was somehow still alive and kickin'. Gripping his crossbow tighter, he clenched his jaw and watched her carefully.

"You bit?" he asked her harshly, not wasting any time. Her eyes held his as she mustered up enough strength to answer him.

"Everything but," she finally whispered in a southern accent. Louisiana, maybe?

Everythin' but, he thought to himself.

"Lotta blood to be sportin' for someone who ain't been bit," he argued with her, observing to see if the woman was desperate or stupid enough to lie to him. He couldn't spot any bites on her, but then again he couldn't see everything.

"Like I said," she continued, wincing as she spoke, "everything but."

The woman made no move to push herself off the ground. He knew she had been running for a while, but looking at the blood trail behind her he could see she had only just started crawling. The blood loss was getting to her, and he saw her pale skin shine with sweat. Her eyes were starting to droop, and she looked about ready to pass out. Fuck, he thought to himself. Take it upon yourself to provide for that weak-ass group only to add someone else to the mix.

His thoughts were interrupted as she looked away from him and stretched her hand out to grasp the foot of the hill in front of her. Raising en eyebrow, he was surprised to see that this woman was fighting to get as far as she could and that she wasn't expecting any help from him. It was then he noticed that her right arm was covered in vertical and horizontal cuts, crisscrossing over each other in some sort of sick pattern. Most people would assume her to be a cutter, suicidal even. But it was clear that this girl wanted to live. Someone who fought to survive did not unleash pain on themselves of this magnitude. Tilting his head at her, he still aimed his crossbow and listened as she wheezed at the effort of pulling herself forward. The pathetic sight usually would have annoyed the piss out of him, but something about the situation just didn't sit right with him. He watched her as she began to pull herself up the hill slowly, and he shook his head at the spectacle.

Her long brown hair was tangled and he could spot dried blood at the back of her head. She had been struck by something at some point, but not enough to cause a concussion since she still retained some lucidity. He could see that she was practically covered in light freckles, but that they were swimming in the blood that coated her thicker figure. She wasn't a twig like that Grimes woman, but she wasn't a couch-dweller either. He could see the muscles working in her arms as she looked to finally be pushing herself back up onto her feet. Crawling obviously didn't appeal to her anymore and he wondered if it was due to pride or not.

She managed to stand again but swayed dangerously on her feet, and he thought she would tumble back down the hill in the next moment. Upon standing, he could see that there were many more cuts on parts of her legs, her collarbone and even a fairly deep one in her stomach. Inhaling a somewhat sharp breath at the sight, he was amazed that she even got back on her feet. Stubborn had been a correct guess on his part. Hell, him and Merle had been through some pretty tough shit of their own. Stepping forward, she shakily dragged one foot behind the other, just focusing on staying upright more than anything else. Following her, he finally put his crossbow up and stepped forward cautiously as she began to teeter about 12 steps later. Falling forward, he reached out and gripped her upper left arm, the one that hadn't been covered in red slashes. Immediately, the girl grabbed onto his wrist for support as her gaze became unclear. Exhaling, he realized she had hit her limit and was pretty close to shutting them brown eyes of hers.

They stood there awkwardly with her trying to clear her head while he argued in his own. A part of him wanted nothin' to do with this. It would be so easy to leave her here. It would be like he had never come out here to begin with. But the larger part knew she needed some fuckin' medical attention and pretty damn fast. Whether he liked it or not, she had just become his responsibility. And he couldn't ignore that he was a tiny bit intrigued about this woman and what she was doing out here in the woods. His decision made, he knelt down and swung the girl up into his arms. Her eyes flashed open and looked at him with that same puzzled expression he knew he must have made when he first saw her. Not wanting to make any eye contact, he moved back towards the camp as if he was carrying firewood and not a living, breathing human being. The girl kept her mouth shut and her head fell against his shoulder with a gentle thud.

He had assumed she had passed out but as the quarry came into view, he was startled when she spoke.

"I just need a moment to rest," she breathed out softly.

I just need a moment to rest, he let the words replay in his head. It was such a simple statement, but not one he had expected. Not thank you, or where are you taking me? Instead, the woman sensed his hesitation and she was rather saying she didn't want to put him out, inconvenience him. She didn't need help or medical aid. She just needed to recover her strength and she'd be on her way.

What kind of position must she have been in before to assume she would be cast back out into this walker-infested world? Frowning to himself, he picked up speed once her breathing became steady, indicating unconsciousness. Arriving at the quarry, he cursed himself for not mentally preparing for the barrage of questions that were sure as shit going to be fired at him.

Lori was the first to notice as her hands flew up to cover her mouth and those big eyes widened comically. Her gasp drew the attention of that curly-headed fuck, Shane, who was almost always attached at the woman's hip. The man strode over to him and looked the woman over for bites.

"Ain't a dumbass," he barked at the cop. He had made sure to check her for bites before he picked her up and made it his mission to bring her in for care. Shane's jaw clenched, but he continued to look over the girl. Lori was now at the man's side, her wide eyes still assessing the shorter woman that laid limply in his arms, her head still resting on his shoulder.

"Stop starin' and fuckin' do something, already," he said angrily. These people needed to be good for something, and he watched in slight satisfaction as Shane motioned him to Lori's tent and held the flap open for him to enter. Lori followed behind, a bewildered Andrea close at her heels as they began to move around. Lori had placed a blanket over one of the small cots and Daryl carefully lowered her onto the top of it. He noticed now that Lori had a bowl full of water and a rag ready to begin cleaning the girl and seeing what they were dealing with. Andrea had pulled out what little they had to clean out and disinfect the many angry wounds that littered her body. Turning, he saw Carol meekly enter the tent with supplies needed to sew up the gash on her stomach. They moved quietly and quickly, all the while sharing confused glances with each other as to the identity of the woman and what had happened to her.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and Daryl immediately swatted it away, annoyed as he looked up at Shane. The man jerked his head outside and he nodded, following him out of the tent and into the open. Everyone was gazing at the tent, wanting to be let in on what was happening.

"Ain't a show for y'all, so mind yer own business," he paced back and forth angrily, hoping to shoo them away. Attempting to pick up where they had left off before the redneck had stomped into camp with a bloody woman, Daryl turned to face Shane who was scrutinizing him closely. "What?" he hollered at the cop.

"What happened?" he asked him calmly, wanting to regain control of the situation but knowing it was near impossible when it concerned a Dixon brother. He watched as Daryl ran the back of his hand against his mouth and spat on the ground, still pacing as his eyes darted back to the tent.

"Found 'er crawlin' around in the woods, what's it to ya?" he snapped at the man. Lowering his eyebrows, Shane looked to be deep in thought as he followed the man's pacing with his eyes.

"Do you happen to know what she was doing out there?" he inquired, causing Daryl to roll his eyes.

"Didn' get a chance to ask 'er," he muttered condescendingly. Backing up away from him, he began to take his leave, "ain't answerin' anymore of yer stupid questions." Heading back out to the woods to hopefully find them some food and not another straggler, he threw his gaze to the tent once more before disappearing. She'd survive, he was fairly sure, but he didn't want to admit that thought left him mildly pleased. This woman was different from everyone else in the camp, but that didn't mean she would be useful. She could be a bigger pain in the ass than anyone else there. Growling, he pushed through the forest attempting to distract himself from the woman that so annoyingly invaded his mind. He didn't particularly like the inner struggle of whether or not he wanted her to survive and what that would mean for him in the long run if she did.

Just another fuckin' day, he grumbled to himself as he put much needed distance between him and the newcomer.


A/N: Sooooo... story? Or leave it be?