Not claiming anything because the last guy that did got his throat ripped out.
He should have known better. After all, he was a Dixon. There ain't nothing he could touch that didn't turn to shit.
He should've left the minute he knew Rick and the others were safe inside the prison. He should've tracked that asshole Governor to the ends of the earth, made him pay for what he'd done to Glenn and Maggie and Andrea. He should have killed him for Merle.
The weight of his brother's death pressed down on him. He'd tried. For the first time in his life, he'd turned away from his brother's lead and made him follow. He'd tried to show him that life was better with these people, that it didn't have to be like before. There were people that could be trusted. There were people who were good.
Instead, Merle had acted like a Dixon and screwed everything up. But Daryl couldn't help thinking that maybe if he'd gone with Merle instead of coming back to the prison, his brother might still be alive right now.
Except she wouldn't be.
Not that it mattered. Everyone he cared for was dead. Only some of them might still be walking. And, eventually, he'd have to put them down. The way he'd had to end Merle.
He'd been stupid to let his guard down. Not just against the Governor. He'd been stupid to care. He was stupid to think that he deserved the trust that Rick placed in him. People like him didn't belong with good people like them. That kind of thing just didn't happen in the real world, not even the messed up world they were living in now. He was a Dixon. He was supposed to live on the outskirts, the wrong side of the tracks. The outside of the fence. He was supposed to watch from afar while they planted their crops, shared their meals, sang their songs, and learned to smile again. That life wasn't for him.
She belonged there. Her and her blond hair and her wide eyes and her damned optimism. Of all the people he could have ended up with, it had to be her.
Maybe this was his penance for failing to keep her father safe. Hershel had been a good man. The best of men. They had all been good people. Sophia, Dale, Lori, T-Dog, Andrea, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, Carol, Carl, and Rick. And his Lil' Asskicker. They were dead because of him. He'd failed them. He'd failed them all.
But he'd be damned if he let his guard down again. He would watch over her, for her father. He would keep her safe, for Rick. And he would follow her back down the road, looking for survivors that weren't there, if that's what it took to keep her beside him. But he wasn't going to let her in. He wasn't going to care. Not even when she cried her eyes out like she did on the tracks earlier today.
It'd be easier this time. Not like after Sophia. Carol wasn't here with her patience and understanding and forgiveness. Rick wasn't here to build him up, make him feel useful, make him feel like part of a team. There was only this slip of a girl who grew up in a loving home with a loving family. She'd lived a sheltered life, even after the dead started walking. It would be easy for him to shut her out. Girls like her didn't have anything in common with guys like him. And when he found good people who could take her in and keep her safe, he would be gone from her life. It was better that way. He was a Dixon. And Dixons always fucked things up.
He just wished she didn't smell so much like Judith.