Hey guys :) So, I think that this chapter has to be dedicated to MntlCaSe, who left me such a nice review about twenty seconds before I was about to update this! Thanks again for all the other reviews, I really appreciate them. Hope you all enjoy this chapter.

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They stayed on the side of the road all night.

Huddled together in the cars, most of the group tried to sleep, despite the overwhelming sense of fear and despair that hung over them. Carol cried quietly for an hour or so, and Beth was huddled up in Maggie's arms all night, but no one was dead, and Daryl couldn't bring himself to care beyond that.

Daryl stayed up all night, sitting on the hood of one of the cars, his crossbow beside him and stared out into the darkness.

He needed Dean. The air was cold, but his blood ran hot with anger and a need to do something. But his bike was running low on gas, and the group was barely holding themselves together, and he couldn't leave them, not just yet.

So he just sat there, holding onto his crossbow with loose fingers, and narrowed his eyes.

The others had tried to divide the night up into watches, but after the first two people tried to take over from him, Daryl managed to convince them that he wasn't going to sleep anyway. It ended up being just him, alone, as the sun began to rise, and the frigid air became more bearable.

Jimmy was the first to wake, and he emerged quietly out of the front seat of Hershel's car, and crept over to where Daryl was sitting. He folded himself down onto the ground, and sat with his head resting against the license plate.

"Rough night?" Daryl grunted out, his voice hoarse and cracked.

The teenager let out a bark of a laugh, and ran a hand over his face, "Very funny."

Daryl watched as Jimmy stared blankly into the distance, much the same as he himself had been doing for the whole night. The kid couldn't have been more than seventeen, and the innocence that Daryl had noticed in him early on seemed to be long gone.

His clothes were splattered with blood and dirt, his hair messed up from the tidy hairstyle that he had used to sport, and his hands were flipping the pocket knife open and closed. Open and closed. Open and closed.

"Ya even know how ta used tha' thing?" Daryl asked gruffly, nodding towards the small weapon that he had given him. Jimmy shrugged, and mimed a stabbing motion with a blank expression on his face. "Nah, I mean properly. Go on, stand up an' fuckin' do it."

Jimmy glanced down at the knife, an unreadable expression on his face, and seemed to be debating whether or not to follow Daryl's directions, "Whatever." His tone was dull and quiet, one that Daryl had heard himself use too many times, when he couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

He watched as Jimmy stood, arms handing listlessly at his side, and squinted at him, "Get inta a proper stance, legs apart, like yer a fuckin' tree or something. Yeah, that's right. Now pretend that yer stabbing someone—no, ya gotta aim higher than tha'. It's gotta be th'brain." The teenager actually followed his instructions, frowning in concentration as he braced himself, and listened carefully, "That's good. Ya gotta stand yer ground, otherwise yer gonna tip yerself over on yer first kill. Tha' ain't gon' be no good if yer taking down several at a time."

"Why are you doing this?"

Daryl did another scan of the area for walkers, and looked back at Jimmy, seeing the devastation all over the kid's face, "Don't need no more casualties. If yer gon' be with us on the road, yer gon' need ta learn how ta protect yerself properly."

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When Rick stumbled out of the car, he was surprised to see Jimmy moving through a number of defensive techniques, while Daryl sat on the hood of one of the cars, and watched.

"What's going on here?" He asked as he walked over, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Jimmy turned quickly, and his face changed instantly. The grim smile that had been on his face, one that Rick knew symbolised pain but also a sliver of happiness at the same time, switched off, and Rick was left staring at an expressionless Jimmy. He scowled, and stuffed the pocket knife into his pocket.

"I need ta leave, Rick," Daryl hopped off the hood of the car with more grace than Rick had expected, and grabbed his crossbow, "I havta find Dean, I havta. I left him with Andrea and T, they were leavin' first an' I couldn't take the kid on the bike."

Rick nodded slowly, "I know. They probably took the backroads, so we'll have to retrace their—"

"No, I have ta go now. Kid's gon' be freakin' out by now, an' I promised that I'd come get him. I jus' need some more gas, an' then we can arrange somewhere ta meet up when I find them. I stayed the night cause everyone needed ta be safe an' reassured, but I ain't waitin' around no more. I'll go huntin' now, get some food, but then I have ta go."

He watched the look on Daryl's face, as the man cut him off and took a step forward. The guilt on his face was so clear and undisguised that it left Rick speechless for a moment.

"Okay, we appreciate it, Daryl."

Then Daryl turned swiftly, and was stalking into the woods that lined the highway within a few seconds, "Won't be gone fer more than an hour." He muttered, and then disappeared into the treeline, crossbow aimed and ready.

Rick sighed heavily as the rest of the group started to emerge from the cars and head towards them. He looked over at Jimmy, as the boy retreated back a few steps, until he was leaning against the car, "Did Daryl teach you anything useful this morning?" Jimmy grunted, and shrugged, gripping the pocket knife tightly again. Open and closed. Open and closed.

The action seemed to ground him slightly, and Jimmy kept repeating it. Open and closed, open and closed.

He was distracted by the repetitive motion of the knife when Lori came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his chest, "What's the plan?" She whispered, and he took a deep breath, before turning back around to the rest of the group.

"Daryl has gone hunting, to see if he can find something for breakfast," The unsure faces looking at him made Rick want to falter and hesitate, but he pressed on, "Then he's going to go find T-Dog, Andrea, and Dean, while we find somewhere to hole up for a while. Look, everyone, I know that things seem impossible right now. We lost some good people back at the farm, and nothing that I say is going to make that any better. But we have to keep going. We have to press on, and survive. I know that we can do this."

Rick watched out of the corner of his eye, as Jimmy went to put an arm around Beth's skinny shoulders, but she shrugged him away. The look on his face was completely crushed, and he stepped back another few steps. The pocket knife came out again, and he stared at the ground carefully, while Beth huddled up closer to Maggie. Open and closed, open and closed.

"Okay, everyone, lets gather up all our supplies, see what we've got left."

The result was pitiful. They had one tent, three sleeping bags, a sweater or two, a couple of hand guns, and a painfully small amount of food. Not nearly enough to go around. There looked to be more supplies in the packed saddle bags on the motorbike, but no one wanted to rifle through Daryl's things while he was off hunting. Rick swallowed hard, and composed himself. If they were going to make it through this, he needed to stay strong.

He sent a few people off to gather firewood, staying as close to 'camp' as they could, and the rest got to work dividing up the last morsels of food. Carl was still wandering around in Daryl's spare shirt, and trying not to stare longingly at the food.

It was only when everyone had eaten their share of the crackers and cereal bars, that Rick realised that none of them had put any food aside for Daryl.

Rick prayed that Daryl would come back with some game.

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Daryl stomped through the trees, six squirrels hanging off his back, impatient to get back to the road.

He had to leave, had to find Dean. Daryl had done as much as he could for the group, had saved Carl, watched over them, and now was fucking feeding them. Dean needed him now, and he wouldn't stop until he had located the kid, and he was in his arms.

Rick greeted him with a smile of relief when Daryl tossed the string of squirrels at him, and grabbed the gas can off the ground. "There's a cabin a mile or two in that direction," He pointed vaguely as he filled up the gas tank of his bike, and secured his crossbow on his back. "River close by as well."

Then Daryl sorted through the saddle bags, tossing two bottles of water and a blanket at Carl, without looking at the kid.

He started up his bike, taking a second to nod at the group members, all of whom were standing around and staring at him, "I'll be back in a day or so with the others. Don't get eaten by walkers."

Daryl was speeding back in the direction of the farm a minute afterwards, heading towards the back roads that he remembered seeing on one of the maps a few days ago. He didn't wait for any thanks, or anything else that the group would have to say to him. He didn't care.

He just had to find Dean.

That was Daryl's sole purpose then, the whole reason that he was still breathing. He just needed Dean, just needed to hug that kid again and never let him go. Daryl refused to entertain the possibility that T-Dog might not have been able to protect him, couldn't even contemplate the thought of not seeing his kid again.

Because that was just unacceptable, and not an option.

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Andrea glanced through the window of the car, to see Dean still curled up on his side, fast asleep.

"What are we going to do?"

The man opposite her sighed, and ran a hand over his bald head, "I don't know. But we can't head back towards the farm, we just can't. A herd that big… that's just suicide." They stood in silence for a few more minutes, unsure of what to do, "Maybe we should hunker down for a day or two, give Daryl a chance to find us."

"For all we know Daryl could be dead. Of course I'm not going to say that to Dean, but we have to think realistically here. We didn't see him get out. There had to be over a hundred walkers, and we left him there." Andrea wiped at a tear in her eye, and tried to keep her voice down, "For all we know, the whole group could be gone."

Neither of them looked inside the car again, otherwise they would have seen Dean, tears streaming down his face, head resting against T-Dog's jacket, just listening. The kid curled himself up into an even tighter ball, and chewed on his thumb, body shaking slightly with sobs.

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So, I hope this chapter was okay! I may have sacrificed a good grade in my chemistry test tomorrow to write this, but… I regret nothing. I have bigger exams coming up soon, but I'll try my best to have another chapter of this up during the week. Would love to see some feedback from you guys, it really helps me to write faster! Thanks for all the alerts and favourites as well :)

Review…?

Thanks for reading,

ArmedWithMyComputer xx