Anything recognizable is the property of the appropriate owners. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.
Note: I have not seen past Season 4, Episode 9: After.
Carol turned out better at making him appear human than he was over the next weeks. She made casual mention to meals he took out of sight of the others so they wouldn't notice his lack of eating, and she tended any wounds without alerting the others so they would remain oblivious to his accelerated healing. For his part, Daryl brought all kills straight to Carol so Lori and Maggie didn't have a chance to wonder why everything seemed oddly bloodless upon butchering or possessing strange marks. Not that the scrawny brunette would have known what fresh killed meat should look like in the first place. No one wondered about how Dixon had the uncanny ability to spot walkers and prey, or the strength required to draw the crossbow without using the toe loop. Then no one batted an eye when the weather began turning towards fall and he was the only one without a coat until Carol dropped a corduroy and leather bundle in his lap without saying anything.
The ruse would have continued as it was, but they failed to consider how the changing seasons would affect Daryl's source of sustenance. Winter descended steadily and with it came a decline in his hunting success. And without continuous fresh kills, his strength waned. Dixon was being slowly starved as his kills grew smaller and farther between, expending more energy than he was collecting from their gamey blood. Animal blood wasn't as satisfying as human blood and despite his best wishes, Daryl couldn't help listening to the thrum of Carol's heart against his back as they rode on the motorcycle and eventually resorted to huddling close together next to the fire at night.
Not that the cold bothered him the same way as it did the others. Cold didn't gnaw at his skin, but it made him stiff and lethargic, taking more energy to continue moving as the temperature dropped. No wonder his cousin Scud had always stuck around temperate areas. There sure as hell weren't many vampires in Alaska. Carol did double duty sharing her heat when it could be hours without really moving much as they wandered on the bike, not really sure what they were looking for. Unsurprisingly, the amount of time they spent together drew eyes and Daryl heard at least one whisper about the way he gravitated towards the short haired woman rather than huddling with T-Dog and Glenn. The Grimes' and the Greene's kept close together, making it the logical pairing, otherwise Maggie would get jealous of Carol snuggling Glenn when she couldn't due to her father's rules.
And honestly, Daryl preferred the cook to just about anyone in the group and she didn't ask awkward questions such as why his hands were always icy cold. Add to that the limited space inside the vehicles and seemed like someone was always left outside without cover which worked just fine for him. Since a tent would be too much hassle to set up and too slow to exit should walkers show up, Daryl would make an impromptu lean-too out of a tarp wrapped over the motorcycle and insulated with any spare blankets and sleeping bags. The slowly cooling exhaust would heat the plastic burrito and the sleeping bags insulated them from the cold. Even though Daryl didn't put out any of his own heat, they were usually warm enough until the morning chill would rouse them to start chores before everyone else awoke. At least the zombies seemed similarly affected. Walkers sheltered in buildings moved quicker than those outside, and there were almost no sightings during the first snowfall.
But when a deep nor'easter blew in, Daryl knew he was in trouble. Not only was the snow falling hard and fast with no hope of hunting anything down, the temperature continued to drop to seemingly arctic levels, making his hands unable to grip and anyone who was able to fit, huddled in the cars. Carol did what she could, secretly slipping extra hand warmers in Dixon's pockets, but they only had so many and they would run out of heat long before the storm was over. So she threw out any thought of propriety and Daryl's preference for personal space to lower the zip on her sleeping bag. They usually remained in separate bags side by side, but the weather called for more drastic actions, so Carol fumbled in the dark for his zipper.
Daryl didn't immediately understand what she was doing, having spent weeks ignoring her wiggling around in a fruitless bid to get comfortable on the lumpy ground, so he nearly yelped when her hand cupped his cheek, feeling like an iron brand. But soon the heat of her palm faded from scorching to soothing and he leaned into her warmth. He wanted to feel more of Carol's burning heat, but the cold and lack of blood had starved him past the point of lethargy to practical helplessness and the hunter couldn't even unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to ask for more. The observant woman didn't need to be told though, withdrawing her hand to rearrange their insulation for a moment before shuffling closer to the freezing man. Dixon practically moaned in pleasure as Carol pressed herself against his side, her warmth burning him through their clothes and sinking into his skin.
Normally any unnecessary physical contact was strictly shunned, but the warmth was glorious and Carol ran her hands over his arms and sides to warm him through the thick jacket. Daryl finally drew up the energy to dislodge his stiff arms enough for Carol to reach the snaps on his coat and for a moment he was colder than before, but then she slipped her arms inside his jacket and wrapped them around his back. The hunter buried his face in her slowly lengthening hair, breathing in the scent of her, trying to draw everything into himself in a desperate bid to remain functional in the frigid weather. As the snow continued to fall, insulating their tiny shelter further, Carol shared every degree of warmth she could, tangling their legs silently until they were sharing one sleeping bag and he could feel her small breasts against his muscular chest.
Now Daryl was still decidedly male despite some differences in physiology, and he wasn't immune to cuddling a woman, especially one he had spent so much time with lately. Before long, Carol's body heat thawed the hunter enough that he started thinking easier, particularly about all the reasons he should extract himself from the situation immediately. But the thought of losing her warmth made Daryl clutch her closer, twisting his fingers into her clothes until he brushed the bare skin at her waist. The shock of his icy fingers on her skin made Carol twitch and hiss in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, the shaggy haired woman maneuvered in the limited space so more of her skin was exposed and pressed his work calloused hands against her back. Feeling smooth skin under his palms made Dixon hyper aware of everywhere they were touching, so he cast around for anything to distract his libido and instead focused on his breathing to keep his body from reacting.
Unfortunately, with his heightened senses it didn't help the situation any. Daryl could smell the smaller woman, everything from the soap she used on their clothes any opportunity she got, to the natural musky scent of her skin under a light layer of sweat. The entire space was full of her warmth, invading all of his senses, including his ears with the hummingbird fast beating of her heart. He was entranced by the rush of blood under her pale skin, calling out to his hunger, making him ache with want. Carol would let him overwhelm her, she wouldn't scream if he pinned her down and nuzzled into her throat before biting down and filling his mouth with her rich blood. God, Dixon wanted to, needed to feed, wanted to consume the shaggy haired woman completely, but he resisted. Carol trusted him and, somehow he trusted her too and that was too rare to squander for a quick meal.
Pulling back enough to face the hunter in the pitch dark, Carol felt his arms tighten uncomfortably around her narrow shoulders. "You're starving, aren't you?"
Dixon's arms quivered as he struggled not to crush her against his chest but that was answer enough. "You need to feed."
"I - I can't." He finally managed to croak out.
"What'll happen if you don't?" Carol didn't stop caressing anywhere she could reach, making sure he was warm enough.
Daryl didn't want to answer the question, didn't want to even think about it. That was the stuff of nightmares. Vampires could go longer without feeding than a human could, but dehydration would stiffen their joints and one of two things would happen. The strongest would simply dessicate and dry up until their body was either destroyed, or someone else fed them. But the vast majority started losing their minds, going crazy until they were little more than feral beasts that would attack anything with a pulse and there was no coming back from that. The bowman hadn't known anyone strong enough to resist the insanity and he was little more than a fledgeling himself, so there was only one possibility if he didn't feed.
"I'll go crazy and kill everyone." He finally whispered back.
"You can't go on like this." The short haired woman's breath puffed on his face, smelling of life and warmth.
Oh how he wanted to do exactly what she was implying, but drew on a well of stubbornness. "I don't think I'd be able to stop." Daryl finally confessed.
"Are there any other options?"
Yet another thing he wished for. But as his father said, "Wish in one hand and shit in the other; Guess which one fills up first?" The hunter couldn't bring himself to voice his answer so he shook his head like a coward, wanting to run away from Carol's open acceptance of his unnatural condition.
Even before he became a vampire, women didn't typically give him a second glance, always drawn in by Merle's flashier personality and the veritable pharmacy in his pockets. So he was doubly out of his depth and his usual method of keeping everyone at a distance failed him. Not that Daryl really knew why he tended to stick to human conventions when he was by all accounts the superior being so he could have justified treating the group like his personal buffet.
Carol startled the younger man when she slid one of her hands from his waist, up his chest, and brushed the untrimmed beard under his chin. She carefully felt along to cup his cheek again, just resting quietly to let him make the next move. Daryl kept himself breathlessly still, well aware of just how close her bare wrist was to his mouth, her sleeve having fallen back. All it would take is a twitch of his head and he could bite easily through her thin skin to the veins full of blood. But all the concentration on remaining motionless didn't help as his traitorous body shifted just enough to brush the corner of his lips against her pulse point.
His lips were chapped and his breath was unusually cold on her skin, but Carol continued to lightly pet the untrimmed hair under her hand, letting Daryl make the final decision. It was oddly intimate to her to have his lips on her wrist. Ed never touched her like that as he believed she existed solely for his pleasure and the short haired woman wondered what it would be like to kiss the hunter. For all the time they spent together, she didn't know very much about Daryl, only what she had overheard from Merle or concluded second hand. Such as his skittishness about physical contact and his fierce possessiveness of the few things that he considered his. Knowing what she knew about him being a vampire, however, made it a lot more understandable, otherwise she would have wondered why he had never made a pass at her.
Daryl's mouth moved slightly against her wrist, just enough that the tip of his tongue barely touched her skin, making Carol hold her breath in anticipation. Would it hurt? Would he stop, or would she die? It was sobering to think she might be taking her last breaths, but she didn't pull away. Even though weeks had passed since the short haired woman had decided to leave the group, her justifications hadn't changed. No one bothered to offer her the pick of the scavenged supplies, or checked to make sure she had boots fit for the weather and she was no better at taking down walkers despite the cold. So if her last act was to save the one man who might see everyone else through this living hell, that seemed a worthy cause to die for, ridding them of her liability and strengthening Daryl.
It was how she resolutely let him take the last step that decided it for him. No one had really given him choices, not even about if he wanted to be a vampire or not, so having the choice to deny his nature and fade away was precious. Not that he would have made that choice. He had always been a survivor, and this was no different, but for once he wanted to survive not just for himself. Carol deserved better than she had gotten from life and the group, which is why he had started keeping some of his finds back from the others, lest someone else would have taken her thick sleeping bag or boots and she always gave up her portions if anyone expressed hunger after their servings. Daryl slipped her granola bars and chocolate on the bike and made sure she didn't get left behind by the others.
Part of him knew he had to stay strong to protect her, but the vast majority of himself wouldn't admit why, chalking it up to simple kindred spirits and shared history and secrets. But reasons stopped mattering when he threw caution to the wind and grabbed her arm and turned to press his mouth fully against Carol's pulse. He paused long enough to feel the thud of her heart against his tongue, expecting it to race out of control, but it only jumped and then remained fast but steady even as he carefully bit into her flesh. The slightly older woman gasped quietly at the foreign sensation, but she didn't pull away or complain when Daryl began to suck earnestly at her wound.
He was in heaven. Even before the turn he had shied away from the trouble that feeding on humans usually brought, so it had been years since he had really satisfied his hunger and Carol was so much sweeter than he remembered the transients he used to feed on to be. She filled him from the inside with her strength and from the outside with her warmth and caring until he was floating in a perfect bubble of contentment that even the weather couldn't dampen.
The first coherent thought that penetrated the fog of blood in his brain was the weight of Carol's arm across his chest and where she had pinned his other arm. Slowly, he realized that he had rolled away from the smaller woman to his back, pulling her wrist with him and she had slumped against his side. Something in the back of his mind told him it was a bad thing that she was so still and he lessened the suction on her wrist while he puzzled through the euphoric rush still buzzing through his body. Then it dawned on him how they had found themselves in the position they were in and Daryl wrenched his mouth away from her wrist.
"Carol?" He whispered hoarsely, acutely aware of her blood still coating his teeth but she didn't answer. "Fuck." The hunter shook his head to clear away some of the drug like high after not feeding properly for so long.
Fortunately, he could hear her heart struggling to continue pumping and Dixon knew he had to stop the bleeding before it was too late. He cursed himself for his carelessness and brought Carol's wrist back to his mouth, barely resisting the urge to continue feeding. Instead, he bit his own tongue, just enough to lathe his blood onto the wound and carefully felt for any permanent damage to her tendons, only breathing a sigh of relief when the bleeding stopped but her heart kept pumping. Most vampires didn't bother with keeping feeder pets and healing them, preferring the subtle change in the blood as fear and trauma made the flavor of the blood sharper, right up until death, but the others would surely ask questions if she turned up dead with a bite mark on her arm.
Carol still didn't stir, but her breathing was even and her pulse steady, so Daryl figured he hadn't gone too far, but it was a near thing. He shifted the smaller woman so her feet were tucked over his to raise her legs and shuffled about in their cocoon to cradle her limp form against his chest where he could listen for any change in her condition, not that he would have been able to do much about it. But it was still a slight distraction from the annoying voice in his head that sounded a lot like Merle.
"Good job, Darlena." Phantom Merle sneered. "First ya let her in on yer secret, and now yer healin' her? Pathetic. Weak. Good for nothin' like Daddy always said. Shoulda just drained her dry. That's all a little mouse like her is good for. That and for putting out. But you ain't done nothin'. Shameful."
Daryl bit down hard on his tongue again, taking a little thrill in being able to silence his brother's voice for once. Merle didn't have any say in his life any more, likely dead and definitely gone, so he wasn't going to let his memory take his place. Since he was unable to sleep, the hunter listened to Carol's unconscious breathing and tried his absolute best not to think about anything.