You should probably watch at least the first two or three seasons of this show before reading this, just saying.

In hindsight, Rick should've expected it.

And at first, he did. He assumed that because Merle had been one of them, Daryl would be too, but after weeks of being in the same company, he saw no signs of the hunter being one of them. Despite his anti-social personality and seeming hatred for most other people, he was human.

It kept him up at nights sometimes, kept him worried. He had seen it in Merle, saw it with no doubt in his mind, and everyone in the camp verified it. Merle was one of them. No doubt. He knew that it didn't skip people in families. It wasn't like one child getting brown eyes and the others getting blue, it was if one sibling was one, the others would be too. There were a million possibilities that could've explained it. Maybe Daryl had been adopted, but that didn't fit. The brothers might not have been identical, but they were too similar, they had the same stubborn set of their jaws, the same eyes, the same arrogance. The next possibility that came to mind was that they were half-brothers, and he settled on that and ignored the uneasy feeling of doubt resting in the bottom of his stomach. But after a while, it becomes nothing more than a thought resting in the back of him mind.

It's when he's with Daryl when their horses startle, Daryl's horse is rearing up and throwing the hunter, and galloping off in terror. His own horse beneath him is startled, whinnying out and rearing slightly in distress, but settling after snorting and backing away. He takes a moment to quickly evaluate the situation, looking for a threat, for walkers. He's relieved when all he sees is a snake and he takes a moment to just breathe, because near-death experiences were coming far too often these days.

His next priority is making sure Daryl is alive, because he expected to hear angry curses at the horse, but there isn't any. He turns, and looks for the hunter and the sight makes him blink once slowly, twice, a third time. He shakes his head, and takes a long swig of water, and blamed what he was seeing on a heat induced hallucination, but the sight is still the same. He closes his eyes, begs for it to be a dream, because surely there was not a wolf where Daryl Dixon should be.

But when he opens his eyes, the scene isn't any different. The wolf is curled in on itself breathing sharply and growling, blood coating the light brown coat, and it doesn't take a moment for Rick to realise that there's an arrow embedded in the wolf's side.

He dismounts quickly, kneeling down next to the wolf with the intention to help, because even if it was a Hybrid, it was still injured. And he didn't have a doubt in his mind that it was Daryl, for he had checked over the ravine, and there was no sight of the man, and the wolf just seemed to scream 'Daryl Dixon'. And it was still the same person he trusted, even if he was now a hybrid.

Hybrid. He remembers the stories about them, the creatures being vicious and angry, attacking for no reason. They were horrible creatures, unnatural. But the wolf next to him isn't attacking, isn't ready to kill. In fact, it just looks determined, just looks like Daryl, and Rick forces himself to forget the tales, because this was his friend.

The wolf – Daryl – growls at him, catches Rick's hand in his jaws when they come to close to his wound. His teeth are a blunt pressure on Rick's limb, and the sheriff reaches tenses begins to reache for his pistol before he stops, and reminds himself again that this was Daryl. This was his friend, and that Daryl - despite his tendency to be a complete and utter dick - wouldn't ever hurt him.

It's a test, he realises. Daryl's not putting any pressure behind the bite, teeth barely even touching the flesh, and Rick knows that if Daryl wanted to, he could easily crush Rick's hand and have it for breakfast, but he doesn't. It's a test of Rick's trust.

He forces himself to relax and grabs his gun. He ignores to vicious snarls and the sudden pressure on his hand, because he pushes the gun away, out of reach and he knows it's his stupidest fucking idea to date because this is a forest, and walkers weren't the only threat, but he knows that gaining Daryl's trust is the most important thing right now. Instead, he uses his free hand to slowly reach for the wolf. Daryl growls around Rick's hand, but doesn't move, his grip on the hand becoming looser, but Rick waits, twisting in hand in Daryl's fur. It's long and shaggy and coarse, but it's not unpleasant, and Daryl lets him, releases his grip on Rick's hand, and huffs, and Rick knows that if Daryl could speak right now, he'd be telling Rick that he 'ain't no fucking dog.'

Rick grins briefly, both at the thought and the success of passing the test. He places his trust in Daryl to not eat him, despite the fact that Hybrids were tricky creatures. They were quick to anger, and lashed out. They had the strength to take down a fully grown man with ease and crush his skull, and make a human into lunch.

But it's still Daryl.

So he gently pushes at the wolf, tries to get it to uncurl around the wound, and when it does, Rick sucks in a sharp breath. It had to hurt, and he wasn't sure if the arrow had struck anything vital. He now knew the reason for the sudden transformation. Wolves were often forced to change forms when they were injured. It was just easier for their animal side to deal with the wound, and it helped them heal quicker. But, with the faster healing or without, Daryl was injured and needed Hershel.

"Daryl, I have to get you back to the farm." Rick says, tries to sound soothing. "But I don't think I'm strong enough to carry you." The wolf makes a sound that almost sounds like a scoff, and Rick can't help but smirk, because Daryl was a Dixon, and Dixon's weren't pussies, and they never got carried, anywhere, no matter what the situation.

So, he watched the wolf slowly and painstakingly pull himself onto his paws, and Rick hesitates, tries to decide whether or not to pull out the arrow. He knew that it could cause significantly more pain for Daryl while he walked f it was still in his body, but there was the possibility of blood loss if he removed the arrow, and he didn't need the wolf collapsing on him. He wasn't lying when he wasn't sure he was strong enough.

Daryl was small for a hybrid, but that didn't mean that he wasn't the size of a puppy. He was easily the size of a German Shepard, if not a little heavier and a little bigger, and Rick wasn't keen on lugging something that big back to camp.

Daryl looks at him, waiting for him impatiently, and it strikes Rick that this wolf is exactly like human Daryl, with slightly less words and more hair, but still Daryl in almost every sense. The wolf stares at him, and then looks towards the way they were heading, stepping forward in that direction, and it takes Rick a moment to register, wondering if Daryl had lost his impeccable sense of direction as a wolf, but then it clicked, because it's obvious that he intends to go after Sophia.

That wasn't happening on Rick's watch. He could already see that the wolf walking slowly, limping and he was in no shape to look for the little girl, no matter how much both of them wanted to. He was going to put himself in risk, and there was the chance that he wouldn't come back to camp, and that didn't sit well with the sheriff, because not only was Daryl valuable, he had become something of a friend.

"Daryl." He says, his voice is stern and warning. Daryl pauses, stares at him in a challengingly manner, head cocking to the side, as if he was asking 'and what are you going to do?'.

Rick forces himself to stand up taller, puffs his chest out and standing proudly. His days in the police force taught him how to handle these situations, and for a moment he finds himself wishing that they had given him a crash course in surviving in a zombie apocalypse, but he shakes that thought away, because he knows even if he had a centuries worth of training, he'd still be as unprepared as he was that day he woke up in the hospital because there was absolutely nothing to prepare anyone for this kind of situation.

"Daryl. You're coming back to camp with me where Hershel can look at that wound." He asserts as much dominance in his voice as he possibly can, tries to sound like the leader he is, the alpha he would be if he was a hybrid, and it works, but Rick knows he's done wrong immediately.

There's fury in Daryl's eyes, tension in his shoulders, and he looks ready to fight, but it's obvious that he's used to having an alpha commanding him, because he backs down, the fire leaving his eyes. He bows his head in submission, turns and refuses to look at Rick as he starts to walk back to camp, and Rick doesn't understand why that hurts him so much.

So he sighs, and grabs the reins of the horse and follows after Daryl while leading the horse. He stays far enough away, because Daryl's angry now, and despite his trust, he doesn't want to be near an angry hybrid, because he was raised somewhere where humans never fully accepted hybrids, considered hem unnatural. They said that they were vicious without reason, ruthless murders, but he had never seen those qualities in Daryl, not towards people. Sure, he could be violent towards walkers, but he had never attacked anyone in the camp.

He felt conflicted. He trusted Daryl the Human with his life, with the life of his family, but he didn't know if he could trust Daryl the Wolf. He's not quite sure about how this is going to change the dynamics of the group, but he knows it'll be drastic, because he knows that there will people who will turn their noses up at Daryl, fight to get him away from them. Others will accept him, he knows that, but he still worries.

He's brought of his thoughts when he sees Daryl's steps falter, and he realises that they've covered several miles now, and they were close to camp. But the wolf looked exhausted now, and he wasn't sure that Daryl would be able to make the rest of the trip back home, but he knows for a fact that his own arms would protest greatly at the weight of the wolf, and the horse constantly shied away from Daryl, leaving them with very few options, and bringing Rick to a certain conclusion.

They were fucked if they didn't keep going on, because judging from the height of the sun, it was late afternoon, and he didn't want to be out here in the dark, knew there was very little chance for them at night, and he has to choke back the guilt he feels because Sophia has been out here for the night, and will be again tonight, and it makes him feel sick.

He presses his hand into Daryl's back and forcing him down gently. The wolf looks pissed off, but resigns, rolling onto his uninjured side. He lets the exhausted wolf rest for a while, watching the sun slowly descend, and he's worried.

As if the wolf sensed his worry, or perhaps shared it, he opened his eyes slowly and pushed himself to his paws and slowly walks on, his steps wavering. Rick runs his hand over the horse's head, whispers to it before following after the wolf and walking next to him, twisting his free hand in the fur again, trying to give as much as support as he can without making it obvious.

Daryl does notice, tensing and shaking his fur a little bit, but allows for the support. He's unsteady but he's walking, and they're getting closer now, the farm in sight, and though Daryl is shaking with the strain, he gets to the border of the camp. There, he collapses, yelps when the arrow is jolted, and forces himself back up, and Rick can't help but feel so fucking proud of his strength, because he knows that if he had been in that situation, he'd be dragging himself by now, ready for death.

Shane and Glenn run to them, their guns in their hands, ready to neutralise the threat, and Rick sees the exact moment they realise that he's got a hybrid standing next to him. Shane's gun raises, pointed at the wolf.

"You better have a good fucking reason for bringing a mutt like that here." He growls, and Daryl growls back. Shane's finger twitches on the on the trigger, and he knows he has to explain quickly before they lose another member of their group. He steps in front of Daryl, protects him.

"Shane," He starts, stops and glances back at the wolf. Daryl looks grim, and he knows just as well as Rick that there's a high chance of him being slain on the spot. There was no soft spot in these people's hearts for hybrids.

He sighs, steeling himself to break the news. They'd have to go through him first before getting to Daryl, because he was truly a valued member of the group, despite his species, going out almost every day looking for Sophia, bringing fresh meat for the group.

"It's Daryl. He's a hybrid." He says bluntly.

The shock is evident in everyone's faces, Shane's gun lowering the slightest bit. He shoves Rick out of the way, scrutinising the wolf. There's a look of disgust on his face, and he looks ready to aim at the wolf and kill it. This time, it's Glenn who stops him.

"Shane, if Rick is right in saying that this is Daryl, then he's still a member of the group!" He argues. "He hasn't hurt any of us."

"But he could!"

"But he hasn't." Rick says, his voice stern. "He's valuable, and now he's injured, and we're going to get him to Hershel before he dies anyway.

Shane looks ready to argue again, but before he can start, there's the sound of a gunshot, and there's a yelp.

And Daryl's on the ground, motionless.

I know what you're thinking.

"wow this is a terrible story with terrible writing."

Yep.

But I am in love with the idea of werewolf!Daryl, and I need something to do before I start NaNoWriMo.

So enjoy, if you haven't died from shock because this is the first time I've posted a new multi-chapters story since July last year.

Hoping on updating soon, because I doubt that I'll post at all during November.

-Aerotes

x

(Also, you could squint and say that this is edited, but you'd be wrong.)