Disclaimer: Don't own The Walking Dead

AN: Remember when I said that I was planning a Walking Dead story that I wrote the oneshots in preparation for? Yeah, well, this is the prequel oneshot to that. I figured with the show on hiatus, I do this to fill the void until the show comes back.

What the story essentially will be is The Walking Dead story, but with changes.

What those changes are is something you'll have to read for yourself to see. What I will say though is this: Some characters will live past their time and some will die earlier. And that's just the short version.

Anyways, this is Daryl and Merle on the onset of the outbreak, running into problems and establishing the status quo of the Fic I have planned. The purpose of this oneshot is to set things into motion.

There's some references to the Survival Instinct video game in here.

Enjoy

Blood and Tears: Crossroads

Daryl wasn't sure this was a good idea.

He was currently holding position on a dirt pavement, a wide and empty field behind him with only weeds to provide something else to look at aside from the dull brown that threatened to consume him. In front of him was a one story building built with red bricks, a chain link fence Daryl could easily hop, and a small outdoor parking lot.

The diminishing sunlight shone past the rooftop as he bent on a single knee, his chest rising up and down slowly as he glanced at the building and around the little parking lot in the distance through the scope of his crossbow. Daryl deciphered the building as a clinic from the white cross that was on the metallic door not far from his position, maybe just a few steps once over the fence. Five cars stayed parked in the outdoor lot, the owners either abandoning them or not making it out of the building.

That, or they were one of the handful of Walkers that were shimming around the parking lot. Their moans and groans amplified in the descending scenery. The eery silence of the small town he and Merle stumbled upon didn't make the noise any better.

Daryl grumbled when he remembered what Merle had suggested to him once they passed this building, "Could be supplies there, baby brother. Supplies for both personal and practical use." Daryl hadn't even been given a chance to argue. Merle had all but shoved him out of the truck they stole after he crashed the army jeep he found at Firesign Stadium into a tree while he was high. He almost sent Daryl through the front windshield, hurting his knee in the process. Wasn't anything bad, but it irritated his performance. Amongst the wreckage, Merle had emerged from the driver's side laughing his stoned ass off and saying they should do it again.

Fuck that.

Occupying a truck that they found after a gruelling half hour of riding Merle's motorcycle that somehow survived the crash, they drove towards Atlanta after hearing about it on the radio. The city was supposedly safe and that was enough for them to at least check it out. They had been driving for a few days now, low on just about everything from ammo to food. That was why Daryl hadn't really tried to argue with Merle about raiding this clinic for supplies; not that Merle had given him a chance to even attempt to do so.

Merle went to watching his back from any Walkers that may be around while he scoped the place from the back entrance. The front was a no go with Walkers seemingly guarding the place from intruders, not that the back was anything to write home about. Daryl just wanted one place that wasn't overrun with Walkers. One or two was fine. One or two dozen? No.

Damn his drug addict brother for putting him in this predicament and damn himself for not finding much while he and Merle were separated from each other after the incident at Jake's Bar. Actually, Daryl would say to hell with Merle's biker gang for taking his shit and making shit harder for them.

Speaking of the drug addict brother of his, he decided to grace Daryl with his oh so pleasant voice, as if his ears weren't suffering enough from the moans and groans of the Walkers, "How's it look?" He asked as he peeked over Daryl's shoulder, his rifle held in both hands.

Daryl shrugged, "Could be worse..." He responded, "But it's not something we can get through on our own."

"Where's the confidence, boy?" Merle asked. "Don't tell me you're pussing out." He shook his head.

"Not pussing out, just being smart." Daryl defended himself. "Didn't go through all that shit I did trying to find your ass just to die by being dumb." He lowered his crossbow. Merle started sneering, signalling the beginning of a rant. "But," Merle raised an eyebrow. "You won't shut up if we don't do this, so let's work on something."

Merle laughed, "You know me so well,"

"And I cry myself to sleep for it."

Merle held a hand over his chest, "Now you're gonna make me cry." Daryl flipped him off after setting his crossbow down on the dirt field. "Let me borrow your crossbow," Daryl shot him a skeptical look. "Just for a second. Need to know what we're dealing with."

"Two dozen," Daryl answered. No way in this hell was he letting Merle use his crossbow. Asshole already stole it from him once and pawned it to his even bigger asshole biker buddies for meth. Merle's days of associating with the weapon had long ended. "Too many to fight head on with just the two of us."

"So what's the plan?" Merle was fine with fighting them all. He wasn't scared of no walking corpses. There could be two-hundred and he would still charge in swinging for what he wanted. But, for the sake of not hearing Daryl curse him out for being dumb, helps hear what Daryl has to say. His plans worked when they traveled to Jake's Bar.

Daryl reached inside his dirty jeans pocket, pulling out a small firework he saved from the stash they stumbled across while at Barksdale. Merle laughed upon seeing it, "Lookie there."

"Since fighting them all at once is suicide, we'll have to distract them to get inside..." He slung his crossbow strap over his shoulder. He pulled out his lighter, holding it under the fuse that stuck out from the bottom of the firework. "When I light this, I'll throw it to the right," he pointed towards the far end of the lot. "Then, once it goes off and the Walkers rush over there, we'll hop the fence and slip inside the door there." He explained.

Merle shrugged, "Kinda boring."

"Man, shut up and get ready." Daryl hushed him, hovering his finger over the ignition switch. Merle held a hand up in surrender before moving to the left side of the fence where the Walkers were the lowest in numbers. The Dixon's shared a nod before Daryl lit the fuse. He quickly threw it over the fence and towards the right side of the lot. Not two seconds after it hit the ground, the firework went off in a loud ignition that had every Walker in the lot heading towards it. Daryl even caught one or two from the front circling around to walk towards the source of the noise that had them enthralled.

Daryl crouched as he walked towards Merle, gritting his teeth as the pain in his knee resurfaced. Merle saw this, looking down to Daryl's knee as it wobbled with every step he took until Daryl stopped just next to him.

"What the hell happened to you?" He asked.

Daryl shook his head, "Nothing. 'M fine." He assured. He looked to his right to make sure no Walkers were making their way back, missing Merle's look of concern. "K. There ain't nothing coming back. We hop the fence, go in, get your shit, then we go." He relayed the plan. "I'll go first." He took a good jump, grabbing the top of the fence and hoisting himself up so he temporarily crouched on top of the fence. He grimaced when he guessed what was gonna happen next. He bent his knee as he jumped, rolling to the side when he landed on the concrete, breathing in deeply through his nose to try and dull the pain.

"Shit," Merle voiced from behind the fence. "Looks like you need the stuff more than I do, baby brother."

Daryl waved him off. "Just get over here before the Walkers come back." Daryl turned his head to watch and make sure that the Walkers stayed over by where he tossed the firework. Again, he missed Merle's brief look of concern.

Merle shouldered his rifle before he hopped the small fence himself, landing near Daryl. He armed himself with his rifle again while Daryl did the same with his crossbow. Daryl took point as Merle brought up the rear, circling around and ducking behind one of the five cars in the lot. Daryl took a peek around the corner before leading Merle behind the wheels of a brown pickup truck. The door inside the building was next to the front of the truck where Daryl was hiding behind. Daryl took another glance around the corner to see that there was a Walker torso on the ground by the door. Its back was turned to them as it tried to crawl towards where Daryl had tossed the firework. Daryl couldn't find its legs anywhere, not that he really cared one way or another.

"Poor bastard must've been trying to get away," Merle whispered as he quickly took a glance himself, seeing that there was a large bloodstain that flowed from the door down towards where the torso laid. "Hell... Even I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Daryl remained silent as he examined the torn dark blue shirt of the Walker, turned even darker by the amounts of blood that had seeped into the fabric of his clothes. Wherever his legs were, Daryl didn't doubt whatever happened to him was a slow and painful demise. Sighing, he took aim with his crossbow and shot the Walker dead with a bolt through the back of the head.

"How kind of you," Merle commented. He double checked to make sure that no Walker heard Daryl. To his relief, the crossbow proved why it was such a useful tool to have in this type of situation. "Let's go."

Daryl nodded. He pulled his bolt from the back of the Walker's head, pressing his back to the wall next to the door as Merle occupied his old spot behind the front wheel. Daryl held his arrow in one hand while his crossbow was held in the other. He shared a look and nod with Merle as his hand holding the arrow encircled around the door handle. He took a few deep breaths before he flung the door open, letting a relieved sigh grace his lips as no Walker came face to face with him. He motioned for Merle to follow, the elder Dixon circling around the truck and over the Walker corpse as he entered the clinic with Daryl. The door slammed shut, bringing attention away from where Daryl threw the firework and back to where the Walkers were standing not two minutes ago; sealing the exit as unsafe and a no go for a return trip.

Inside the clinic, Merle had his back pressed against the door as Daryl set the arrow back into his crossbow, freeing his hand to grab his flashlight. The clinic had definitely seen better days. Where Daryl and Merle were standing, they seemed to be in the back where the doctors here would take patients. There was four rooms, two on each side of the door, and a closet that housed the equipment for medical use. The lightbulbs above them flickered slowly, blinking in an additional expansion of the hallway with every second the light stayed on. Daryl sped up the process by turning on his flashlight, now able to see all the discarded garbage on the floor and blood on the walls. Daryl shined the light down the hall, seeing that there were corpses spread out at the edge and no doubt continuing past the corner he was glancing at. He turned to the other side to see a barricade of metallic carts and wooden desks pressed against the door that rounded off the back of the clinic. What almost shook him was the message written in blood.

Dead Inside, No Supplies, Keep Walking.

"Fuck!" Merle groaned out as he read the message. "What does that asshole mean no supplies?" He walked closer until he was practically burying his face in the door. He shook his head. "Fuck that. I ain't believing this shit until I look for myself." He entered the room farthest to the left, leaving Daryl to his own devices.

"Dumbass," Daryl muttered. He glanced back over at the room Merle disappeared to, sighing before he turned the other way and slowly descended down the hall. He held the handle of the flashlight in between his teeth as he raised his crossbow. He kept a steady pace in case the legs of the bodies ahead of him decided to stand up. He placed his back to the wall, taking the flashlight out of his mouth as his crossbow fell to his side. He took a breath, quickly moving around the corner to see what lied behind it.

He shined the light down the hall, seeing the main entrance. The double glass door had long since cracked and was being blocked by the vending machine. It didn't do much to help as Walkers were easily shuffling around the waiting room like they owned the place; which they technically did. Daryl counted three. One was laying against the wooden receptionist desk, another was walking in circles, and the last was kneeling on the ground eating what looked to be a dog. Daryl had to hiss a little.

The light he was shining down the hall did a great job acting as a beacon for the Walkers to know food was nearby for them. The Walker that was walking in circles stopped to head his way and the one leaning against the desk turned its head, stood up, and followed. The Walker eating the dog was ignorant to Daryl's presence.

"Damn it." He growled as he set the flashlight away to regain a good handle of his crossbow. He aimed for one Walker and then fired an arrow, hitting the Walker in the forehead as it fell back in a thud in a satisfying 'whoosh' sound. He pulled back the wire on his crossbow. He grabbed another arrow from the holders on the side of his bow and set it in perfectly. The Walker had reached him, pressing all its weight into Daryl; unluckily hitting Daryl's injured knee with its own. The sudden jolt of pain had caused Daryl to fall on his back, making sure he held the Walker tight by its shirt collar so he could control where the dead man landed. The Walker was clawing for him, growling mere inches away from Daryl's face.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' he repeated to himself. His crossbow fell away from him during the fall, less than an arm's length away from where he landed. Daryl could've normally just grabbed it if not for the excess baggage on his chest. The smell of the decaying flesh hit his nose a lot rougher than normal, causing him to gag out loud from the horrid smell. He needed a plan. Now.

He felt his bum knee grow lighter, signalling the Walker moving as it crawled closer into Daryl's chest; lips almost touching base with his own. Saying to hell with it, he pulled his leg back under the Walker; knee bent as best he could before he rammed it into the Walker's chest with a powerful kick. The dead man jumped a foot before landing on the cold floor as Daryl scurried back up once he retrieved his crossbow.

He aimed again and fired, hitting the second Walker in the eye as it fell back with its friend to the ground.

Daryl huffed as his knee ached and burned from the power of the kick. "Punks..." He reloaded his crossbow again before setting forward. He took his two arrows back, keeping his eyes on the Walker that was eating the dog. His crossbow lined up with the back of the Walker's head as he shuffled forward. Holding his finger on the trigger, he pulled back as his arrow soared through the air and impaled the Walker through the skull; its large husky form falling on top of the half-dead animal. Daryl solemnly shook his head.

He stepped forward now that the coast was clear. He retrieved his arrow and reloaded his crossbow for a fourth time in the last minute. He glanced towards where the front desk was, taking in the scattered remnants of paperwork the secretary was working on during her last visit. Daryl hoped she wasn't one of the Walkers he just killed.

He raised a curious eyebrow as he took clear note of a pill bottle on the desk, standing perfectly amongst the wreckage of paper. Daryl stepped towards it, his guard still up in case something jumped out of the wall and at him like some sick alarm system. He stopped right in front of the desk, grabbing a hold of the pill bottle that seemed to pose for him in the diminishing light. Looking over the label, he saw it was Carbohydrate pills. In other words, pills for someone that had low blood sugar. Merle couldn't take these. He'll probably give himself some kind of sugar induced heart attack.

Before he could set the pills down, he heard rather loud thumping. For a split second, he thought it was an earthquake. What made him stop thinking that was the familiar moan and groan of a Walker amongst the thumping. He aimed his crossbow back towards the front door, catching something in his peripheral vision as he did. Coming out of the left side of the clinic was a rather large man turned Walker. He was wearing a blood and dirt stained white wife-beater with blue jeans that had just as much if not more dirt and gore. His dark hair and beaten face was a mess, indicating the length of his death and subsequent revival. The hole in his neck indicated where he had gotten bit, his loud thumping echoing over the moans that escaped his rather dry and crusty lips. He saw Daryl and began his walk towards him. Sighing, Daryl took aim and fired for the fourth time since he and Merle stepped inside this beaten up clinic. The Walker fell back onto the ground with a large smack; Daryl swearing he saw the other dead bodies jump up.

"Holy hell!" Merle made his acquaintance known once again, Daryl almost brandishing his knife towards him. "Someone liked Thanksgiving weekend."

"Not funny," Daryl grumbled. Although, the turn of the head and biting of his lip seemed to say otherwise. He composed himself. "Find something?"

"Asshole who wrote that was right." Merle shook his head. "Not a pill bottle to be see-" he saw what Daryl was holding. "Watcha got there for ol' Merle?"

"Heart attack pills," Daryl held it up. "Carbohydrate pills. For someone with sugar level problems. You get the clap, not the withdrawal of sugar. Taking these is probably not smart."

Smart and Merle didn't go together since the elder Dixon snatched the bottle for him. "I'll save it for a final high then. I think it'd be smart to start a rainy day fund." He slid the pill bottle into one of the pockets on his vest.

"With the amount of drugs you already have, you ain't gotta worry..." Daryl took a beat. "We good?"

"Suppose so." Merle nodded. "That asshole seemed to be right about the lack of supplies here. I ain't gonna waste any more time adding to my savings."

"I thought you said that you should start a rainy day fund?"

"I need an immediate high a hell of a lot more, baby brother." Merle corrected. He checked what ammo he had inside his rifle before nodding. "Let's get to the truck."

Daryl followed behind his brother as they ran out the front door now that it cleared up a little bit. Merle decided that he was done being quiet and fired two shots into two Walkers as he and Daryl rounded the side of the building. Daryl ignored his knee injury, occasionally doing a one legged hop to regain a little feeling in his bum knee before he ran with both legs again. He and Merle hopped the fence again, continuing their sprint towards their truck that they left a steady distance from the clinic. It wasn't far. Thirty seconds of continuous running and they were there. Daryl was relieved. No more having to work against the throbbing in his knee.

Daryl took to the driver's seat, starting the engine up before he and Merle drove on the road back towards the clinic. Merle, being the jackass he was, flipped the building off.

"See ya, motherfuckers!" He shouted at the top of his lungs as the truck zipped on by.

"Man, shut up!" Daryl glared at him. Merle gave that asshole condescending smirk of his before he examined his new bottles of 'medication'. Daryl shook his head before turning his eyes back to the road. He hoped Merle enjoyed them pills. He better because Daryl wasn't running another errand for him unless the asshole is shot or stabbed; and even then he might just tell Merle to walk it off. It would be sweet payback for all the times as kids.

Shaking his thoughts, he immediately formed a new one. Safety. Would Atlanta really be safe? Would it or will it just be like every other backwash neighborhood he rummaged through the two and a half weeks he'd been surviving in this hellhole. He had to admit. This was still more pleasant than when he was younger. At least Merle was with him now.

With a glance over at his side-mirror to the Walkers shuffling towards them, Daryl drove off down the road towards Atlanta with Merle right beside him. The Walkers in his rearview mirror faded the further he got down the road. Hopefully, they would fade for good once they got their asses to the supposed sanctuary that was Atlanta.

End of Blood and Tears: Crossroads

This was a look into what my upcoming Walking Dead story is. This was a prequel to set up future conflicts and to establish the setting and themes.

Once the actual story comes out, the events of this oneshot will make a lot more sense in hindsight. It's gonna be a fun trip and I hope to have as many folks as I can for the ride.

I love the Dixon brothers. They'll definitely be major players. That I can say without spoiling too much.

The rest of the series will have the "Blood and Tears" title, but with a different tagline for every season. Season 1 will be titled: "Blood and Tears: End of Days". Alert me to know when it's uploaded or keep an eye out.

Hope you enjoyed the story and drop a review to let me know if I got Daryl and Merle right. I wanna make sure they don't seem horribly out of character. Follow me on Tumblr for any news on the series. Link is on my profile page. There's some tidbits already on the story.

Hopefully I'll see most of you for Season 1!