A/N: I DO NOT own any part of The Walking Dead. One review per chapter please. I am so sorry for the wait, I've been in school and extremely busy! I'll try update once a week with each episode, but no promises. I'm not sure what this whole Carol/Daryl thing is either, but I don't like it. Thank goodness that's something in my control here . I notice some of you don't care for Michael. Don't worry we'll be saying goodbye to him very soon, although I quite like him. Well, here's chapter three, enjoy!

Southern Hospitality

2 Days Before Wildfire

Daryl wiped the back of his hand across his brow, removing droplets of sweat that had begun to bead on his skin. Standing up, he wiped his oil-covered hands on a rag, he threw it over his shoulder, looking down at his brother's bike.

"Should be good to go, just needed a little tune-up." Daryl said to Merle as he approached, exhaling a plume of smoke. The two brothers stood tensely as Merle looked down, then swung a leg over the motorcycle and took a seat.

"Good. Now to go-" Merle began, stopping as the sounds of a running engine grew closer and closer. Looking up, Daryl narrowed his eyes as an orange pickup truck barreled up the hill, bumping and bouncing all the way to the shabby House of Dixon.

"Who the fuck is that?" Merle barked, and Daryl remained silent, sharing his brother's sentiments. No one ever came to the Dixon home, no one besides cops and whores that was, and neither the former or the latter drove a vehicle of this sort. As the truck came to a halt, Daryl began to walk slowly, freezing in his steps as the door swung open and none other than Everheart's girlfriend climbed out.

"Hot damn. Now who might that be?" Merle growled, and Daryl turned for a moment, shooting his brother a harsh glance before returning his sights to the intruder upon their property.

She was clad in a pair of jeans that hugged her hips, skimming over slim thighs and cupping a noticeable rear end. Tucked into cowboy boots, Daryl observed her waves which she had tucked behind slightly pointed ears, each covered in rings from top to bottom. She sported a t-shirt which had some sort of sports team printed on it, glancing up at Daryl with those disgusting puppy-dog eyes.

"Hey, I know we got off on a bad foot and I thought I'd stop over and-"

"What the hell you doing here?" Daryl barked, cutting her off. Immediately she stopped in her tracks, face freezing and coloring slightly in a way that gave him much satisfaction. It felt good to watch her sugary-sweet smile slide right off of that pretty little face. He had seen the expression before, a condescending a smug expression that boldly said: "I'm better than you, and I know it".

"W-well I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. Things got out of hand and I know Michael can be an asshole to you. I made some things as my way of saying sorry." She breathed, looking slightly nervous. Before Daryl could respond however, Merle appeared, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

"Y'all two know each other? Why don't you introduce me to your friend?" Merle breathed obnoxiously, leaning against Daryl in a way that made him immediately shrug out of his touch. Breathing a grunt of disgust, he found himself once more filled with contempt for the girl who stood before him, a little buxom bitch.

"Hi, I'm Scarlett. I'm Mike Everheart's girlfriend." She said, extending hand. Merle raised his eyebrows in return, reaching out to grab it firmly.

"Yeah, the one I supposedly roughed up. Glad you saw things differently." He stepped in, he said, squeezing her hand tightly. Daryl looked between the two, watching her face only to find that her smile never faltered, a cold grin plastered across her face.

"It was an accident, and I don't even know who it really was. I hope there's no hard feelings. I've got some baked goods in the truck."

"Now how could I have hard feelings towards a pretty thing like you? Merle replied, his voice filled with a slimy bravado that threatened to make his little brother cringe. Wrinkling his nose he glanced at the intruder once more, wanting nothing more than to boot her off his land.

"You're trespassing. Got no place being on my land." Daryl growled.

"Look, I'm just trying to-" she began, but he cut her off promptly.

"Don't need your goddamn charity. Now go on, get." He threw his arm out, turning his back so he wouldn't have to look at her anymore.

Much to his satisfaction, he heard her boots crunch in the dirt, and the car door slam viciously.

"I thought he was wrong but maybe Michael was right, you are just an asshole. Fuck you." She growled, taking a basket wrapped neatly and nicely in plastic and shoving it into Merle's hands. Merle jumped back in confusion, and Daryl allowed himself to throw one last look at Scarlett who stopped, as though waiting for him to say something.

"I said get off my land, or I'll make you!" he exclaimed. This time, she responded by raising her hand and offering a silent and simple middle finger. Shaking her head, Daryl watched in a mixture of amusement and anger as she got into Everheart's truck and peeled out without so much as another glance. He had to hand it to her, she refused to show nothing less than ferocity, and Daryl respected that despite the fact that he still wanted to knock her off her feet, preferably with the back of his hand.

The sound of crinkling caught his attention, and turning his head, Daryl found Merle digging into the basket, grimy hands pulling out a large muffin.

"Got that ass and she can cook. You've got a lot to learn little brother but hell, you don't want her I'll gladly take her. Got them nice tits too, you can tell she's a little freak."

"Shut up." Daryl snapped, clenching his jaw. He wanted to hear nothing less than what his brother wanted to do to that little bimbo. That must have been exactly what she wanted too. No girl walked around dressed like that with pure intentions, she was a whore, that much he could tell from a mile away.

It was so easy for women. All a girl like her had to do was puff out her chest and bat her eyelashes, and get whatever she wanted without doing a damn thing to deserve it. It disgusted Daryl, more than anything. Where were the real women? Women that could stand on their own two feet without getting weepy at the drop of a pin. All of his life he had managed to stay away from the opposite sex, and he planned to keep it that way.

"Baby you alright?"

Scarlett nearly jumped out of her skin, a folded shirt flying out of her hands and onto the floor as Michael entered the room, two beers in hand. Spinning around, she glanced at her boyfriend nervously, for the first time that day.

"Christ you scared me." She breathed, partly trying to hide her guilt from what had happened earlier that day. She still had not told Michael of her trip to the Dixon home, and certainly did not plan to. It was perhaps knowing that her boyfriend was right however, that made her feel all the worse.

Daryl Dixon was no good, that much was evident. Never in her young life had Scarlett seen someone so resistant to simple human kindness. It took a man who was truly an asshole, to find fault in an act of simple kindness and assholes were people Scarlett truly did not like.

She wanted to go back and give him a piece of her mind, send the palm of her hand across his cheek and show him that she wasn't just a dumb slut. It was evident in the way he looked at her, that was how he saw her, judging before knowing the truth inside. It was infuriating and frustrating.

"Sorry about that. You all done packing?" Michael asked handing Scarlett a bottle of Bud, and she accepted it, grateful for his neglect to delve any further into her flustered emotions. Glancing down at the duffel bag on the bed, Scarlett picked up the dropped shirt and slipped in.

Tomorrow she would leave for her stay at the university, getting to know the campus and town a little bit. It would certainly be a nice break from a place where she was now beginning to see the very same people each and every day, and Scarlett relished the opportunity to be around the hustle and bustle of the city once again.

Taking a sip of her beer, Scarlett swallowed down the carbonated liquid before sitting down on the bed, crossing her legs and sighing. A part of her was anxious like a preteen on the first day of middle school. Would people like her? These would be people Scarlett would live with a see for the next four years, it was important to make social connections of some sort.

Back at Syracuse she had failed in balancing a social, school, and work life, talking to only her roommate and those around her. She felt cut off from the community of such a prestigious university that held so many, and because of that was more alone than ever.

This would be a fresh start, a new opportunity. Scarlett was completely and utterly alone now, cut off from her parents who refused to support her in her dream. All she had was Michael, and each and every day she feared he would realize that he was too good for her.

"You look nervous." He commented, sitting down beside Scarlett on the bed and letting his knee brush against her own in an innocent and sweet gesture that caused her to smile. Looking up, she glanced into his dark eyes and shrugged.

"I guess I am." She replied honestly, taking another swig of beer.

"I don't know why. You give yourself absolutely no credit Scar. You're so damn amazing and you don't even realize it."

"Stop. Being flattered isn't going to make me feel better." She shook her head.

"You're so damn frustrating. You're beautiful, smart, talented, funny, and the nicest girl around. Everyone here loves you and that's after how many days? You need to stop worrying and look at the good things about yourself. I know you want to be perfect, but there's no such thing. You're pretty close though."

At this Scarlett remained silent. Michael always had a way of saying exactly what she needed to hear, while making it seem 100% honest. Whether he truly believed the things he said she did not know, but it was just what he needed.

"Why are you so good to me?" she breathed, staring at him. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his own, not wanting to let go.

For some strange reason, things felt different. As Scarlett found herself in Michael's arms, it seemed as though they were parting forever, rather than just for a few days. Squeezing him tightly she refused to let go, leaning in and kissing him passionately.

Nuzzling her head in his chest, she inhaled deeply taking in his familiar scent. It filled Scarlett's nose, wrapping around her and making her feel safe. All she could think about was feeling his naked body against her own, having him pumping inside of her slowly.

The thing about fucking with Michael was…well, it wasn't really fucking. It was perhaps the only fault Scarlett could find with him. He was tender, gentle, as if making it a point to be as caring as it could, but that was the very thing.

Scarlett didn't want to be caressed. She didn't want the romanticism, she wanted to be taken and freed, violently even. She wanted to be taken control of, held down and fucked all sorts of ways.

She was too afraid to ask, to let Michael know that her deepest desires lay with brutality, but the simple fact was with each time they had sex she was becoming less and less satisfied, less and less excited. It wasn't until their fifth time together that Michael had even brought her to a climax, and now, she was beginning to dread the up and coming days where she would be forced to fake it.

Right now though, that didn't matter. Scarlett wanted to feel Micheal inside of her, and wanted to be close to him. She could not explain why or how, but it was as if the world was coming to an abrupt end and she needed to say her final goodbyes.

It was a strange, ominous feeling that she couldn't shake, even as she laid beside him hours later, trying to close her eyes and go to sleep. It was paranoia of the worst kind, brought about by something Scarlett didn't know.

Brushing it off, she closed her eyes and settled into the body beside her, preparing for a new day.

1 Day Before Wildfire

Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder, tucking a squirrel into his bag carelessly before ducking under a branch. Crouching near the ground he peered beneath a mass of branches, before looking down at the grown and trying to determine any nearby prey.

He didn't need food, there was still meat sitting at home, but with his free time Daryl found himself unable to stay inside. With a day off from work he was antsy for some reason, and could think of nothing but being out in the wilderness where he felt at ease.

He was unnerved, uneasy, and couldn't put his finger on it. It was strange, as if there was a storm brewing in the air. Something big was coming, and it put him on edge like no other.

The sound of a subtle voice in the wind stopped Daryl in his tracks and he glanced around, looking for its source. It was faint, perhaps further than he thought, yet the fact remained that someone was here in his woods, more specifically in the 2-mile radius he remained exclusive to since childhood.

He wasn't sure what had drawn him to that spot to begin with, but for years now it had become home. After years of hunting, the area had become a place of solitude, alive with nothing but the birds and insects. Once in a while a buck came by, but for the most part large animals stayed away. As just as well, because it gave Daryl a place to sit down and relax, recoup, and stare up at the stars in the sky when the world seemed at its worst.

The thought of anyone disturbing his sanctuary immediately set his hairs on end. His territorial nature sparked, causing a deep grumble of dissent within Daryl's belly. Whoever it was, they wouldn't be there much longer.

With silence and agility, he clutched his crossbow in his hands. Darting in and out of fell branches, Daryl made his way through several yards of foliage then stopped in front of a thin tree trunk covered in knife marks.

Grasping at the trunk tightly, he swung his crossbow over his shoulder once again then hitched himself up, immediately finding footing in the small indent that had formed over the past years. Hoisting himself up he climbed, lifting himself up onto a branch and steadying himself before looking down the clearing near a stream he used to bathe in occasionally.

Squinting, Daryl found glanced into the clearing only to find himself staring at the last person he wanted to see: Scarlett.

She stood next to the stream-his stream-clad in nothing but a bra and panties. Wringing out a mass of wet hair Daryl simply stood and stared, frozen in his footsteps as thousands of thought flew through his head at once, each more overwhelming than the last.

First and foremost there was the fact that she was standing here before him, very much unclothed and very much oblivious to the fact that she was being watched. It wasn't as though Daryl had never seen a woman unclothed before, in fact, growing up in the Dixon household he had seen plenty of the women his brother and father brought around. Yet this was different.

Her body was lean with well-defined muscles, yet not in a masculine way. Her abdomen, completely flat with subtle curves on the sides that led to curved hips and strong thighs. It was strange, the way she maintained such feminine attributes while still having such a lean body. Daryl could do nothing but stare, especially as Scarlett arched her back, running her hands through her hair and thrusting out her large breasts, barely contained by a black lace bra.

It was…strange. Growing up Daryl had never been interested in porn rags, and remained fairly secluded so talking to girls never really presented itself. Besides that, he had no real interest in the fairer sex. Why should he? Women were nothing but trouble. Dramatic, superficial messes with no concern about anything besides their looks and the most trivial things.

He couldn't look away though. Daryl was…curious. He was intrigued by the way Scarlett's breasts pushed up against her bra, and as she bent down to shake out her hair he wondered what it would be like to see her completely naked.

Then, there was the fact that she was in his spot to begin with. How did she know where this place was? Why was she here? Why couldn't she just mind her own damn business and stay out of his life? Every time he turned around, she was intruding with her baskets of muffins and her incredible body.

Incredible?

He froze at the thought. Had he really just described her body in such a way? Swallowing, Daryl continued to observe as Scarlett slowly dressed, sliding on a pair of jeans. Spinning around, she reached down to grab her shirt and he Daryl found himself faced with the thought of her backside, which was just as nice as the rest of her.

Clad in revealed panties, Daryl wondered would it would be like to reach out and touch it. It looked soft, and he couldn't shake the thought of cupping and squeezing her ass in his hands.

Quietly, she began to sing and although Daryl could not make out the words she mouthed her voice was beautiful. Sultry tones dominated a husky voice. Had he heard her voice without seeing her, he would have been entranced. She sounded like one of those Hollywood actresses of old. Daryl never got to see movies much as a kid, but sometimes when he would go into town he'd allow himself to stop and listen in through the open window of Jim Hanson.

Hanson was a bitter Vietnam vet, staggering around the town stinking of booze and obsession with the previous century. He took pride in nothing but his uniform and his old movies, shacking up in his house each and every day muttering to himself. Daryl had only come across him once, however the fellow seemed to have a sort of respect for an outcast such as himself. He gave Daryl a bag of apples and sent him on his way, warning him to never trespass on his land again and Daryl never did again.

Leaning in slightly, he allowed himself to ignore everything but the sound of her voice, listening intently and forgetting the details of the entire situation.

"…Looking everywhere haven't found him yet, he's the great affair I cannot forget, only man I'll ever think of with regret…"

Without thinking, Daryl lifted a hand and swatted at a nearby insect which threatened to land right between his eyes. The moment he shifted, he suddenly lost his footing, and the familiar branch that had supported him for years gave way, sending him cascading to the ground.

"GOD DAMMIT!" he screamed as his crossbow slammed violently into his spine. Rolling on his side, Daryl tried to catch his breath, his entire body jarred from the 15-foot-fall. Stunned and angry, he pulled himself onto his feet and glanced up. The branch that had broken hung dangerously, swinging limply as if waiting to become detached and impale Daryl right where he lay.

Crouching down, he tried to stop the singular massive ache that resonated throughout his bones, and knew that come morning it would be ten times worse.

"So, you treat me like shit then spy on me. Something you want to tell me?"

That voice. No longer was it husky, beautiful, but this time sent a flare of ire through Daryl's body. Frowning, he forced himself to look up at her. Her face was full of irritable amusement, as though she though he was getting some sort of thrill out of watching her.

"No one is spying on you. This is my place." He shot defensively, feeling his face redden slightly.

"It's a fucking forest. How exactly does it constitute as your property?" she snarled, her face becoming more vicious than Daryl had seen. Immediately, the seemingly vapid girl he had come across was gone, and he found himself facing a formidable opponent. It was as if she had shed her sweetness like a second skin, the way her eyes danced with fire and her voice dripped with ice.

"I been coming here since I was a kid." He retorted.

For a moment, Scarlett simply stared at Daryl before snorting in such a condescending way that he wanted to reach out and slap her. Instead though, he simply stood as she brushed past him, tossing her wet locks over her shoulder like some sort of princess.

Watching he retreat, Daryl could think of nothing better than never seeing her again. But there was still the small part of him that accepted her, even wanted her around just so he could have someone to swap insults with. She held her own and he liked that, even though she was an insufferable bitch.

As he continued to watch her walk away, his eyes immediately flew to her backside and again, Daryl wondered how it would feel. What would her body feel like in his hands.

"Fucking sick." He muttered allowed, completely disgusted with himself. He didn't want to think about such things. Without another word, he reached back and clutched at his crossbow, storming away in a haze of confusion and frustration.