A/N: taking a small break from Days of Our Freakin' Camp. Pass The Porn Tea asked for more Daryl after yesterday's Glenn centric chapter so this one is for her- there's alot more of him here. Also there is a nod to Annelisa which I couldn't help sneaking in- I'm sure you'll notice it when you see it, A.

He was standing in the doorway of her cell, knife poised over his head before the fog of sleep was fully gone. She was curled in the corner, her back against the bars, her finger pointed towards the opposite corner. "Killllllll it!"

Daryl looked in the dark cell and saw nothing amiss. "Carol-" he turned to her, convinced she had a nightmare.

"It's over there. Kill it!".

"There ain't-"

"Yes there is. It was huge. And hairy," she whimpered, curling tighter in on herself.

Damn woman had finally lost her goddamn mind. He ran a hand over his face as Rick and Glenn joined them, half dressed with crowbar and bat in hand. "Whut-" Rick asks.

"Think she had a bad dream," Daryl reasoned.

"Nu-uh!" Carol insisted from her corner. "Motherfucking spider the size of my damn leg."

Rick and Glenn snorted quietly to themselves as Herschel and Maggie finally caught up with the group. "She needs to spend a little less time with Daryl," Glenn suggested to Rick. "She's starting sounds like him."

Daryl glared over his shoulder at the younger man. "I don't freak ta fuck out over a goddamn spider."

"I think he meant the swearing."

"You three starting a sewing circle or are you going to kill the damn spider?"

With a grimace in her direction, Daryl stuck a hand behind him and Rick placed a flashlight in his grip. "Fine fine." He moved into the corner, sliding the light beam up and down the wall searching for the eight legged perpetrator.

"Ah Ha!" he announced before smashing the butt of his knife on the cement a few times. Still crouched over he shined the flashlight on the knife handle, checking for damage, and stood up. Handing Rick back his flashlight, Daryl reached a hand down and help Carol up. "Better?" he asked.

Carol just nodded as he stepped out of her cell.

As the tension dissipated, Rick took in Daryl's threadbare boxers in the early light that barely cut thru the shadows in the prison and could not help but laugh. He about bust a gut, and had to lean against the railing behind him, holding his side. Daryl turned to shoot a "What The Fuck" dirty look at him when Glenn noted where he was looking and started to giggle. Soon it was the whole group, Carol was the only one who seemed unphased.

"Shut it," the man growled. "My niece gave 'em ta me for Christmas." He placed his balled up fists on his hips, just above the faded pair of Boris Badinov and Natasha Fatale boxers, the only thing he had on.

"Ve vill get Moose und squerrill," Herschel imitated a bad Russian accent through his chuckles, which made Rick collapse on the floor and wipe at the tears on his face. Daryl stomped one bare foot which might have been intimidating if he had had pants and boots on. With an unamused look, he stormed through the group, elbowing his way back to his nest at the end of the block.

"Some people," he grumbled. He heard the faint chuckles and whispers as everyone headed back to their cells. Lost in his own unchartable thoughts, he jumped when he turned to get under the covers of his makeshift bed and he saw Carol doing the same on the other side. "Jesus woman. What in ta hell are you doing?"

She gave him a half of a dirty look. "You didn't kill it," she huffed as she flopped down.

"How ta hell do you know that I didn't?"

"Daryl Dixon doesn't 'ah-ha' before a kill that's how." She rolled over, putting her back to him and yanked the blanket over her head. "Bastard."

-
A/N: I know I dated myself in this one. And I'm gonna guess if you did not get the reference to the cartoon characters on Daryl's shorts, you are probably under 35 or so...if you have time educate yourself with a bit of Rocky and Bullwinkle over on youtube, its worth it just for the glimpse of 1960s pop culture.