*Aria escaped, woohoo! Now, it's time to see the damage Oriax left. This chapter has lots of surprises. I would say more but then I'm spoiling it for you.
Let me know what you think so far! I always enjoy reviews :)
Thanks!*
Daryl's POV
I sit at the cold metal table, the meager breakfast lying untouched in front of me. I feel empty like all emotion has been sucked out of me.
Aria was my shadow, an unwavering constant in my life. And this unknown? It's worse than seeing her die. It eats at me every second of the day. Worse than even that, the most difficult fact to swallow, is that I left her there. I left Aria with that Governor and it's my fucking fault.
I get why Rick is going nuts. This grief, this blame, it's unexplainable. I keep hoping it's going to get better, that tomorrow morning the pain will be a little less but then I remember and it's like being hit in the face with a cement brick.
'I'll come back.'
An inaudible sigh slips pass my lips as I stare down at the clumpy oats. Her words are haunting me, making it all the harder to move on. There's so much that I want. I want to hold Aria one last time. Tell her I love her and then show her how much. I want to see those evergreen eyes that hold my future, one that I only saw with her in it.
"You got to eat something," Carol tenderly orders as she takes a seat next to me.
I don't acknowledge her, but I force the flavorless oatmeal into my mouth, not wanting to disappoint the woman. She's trying her hardest to not let me give up and I know it ain't easy for her. Carol's hurting just as bad as me. As bad as we all are. Aria played such a big role in all of our lives. She's been our mentor, friend, family, protector.
Looking at my group, I can't help the pride welling up in my chest. Beth is feeding baby Judith, a giant grin on her face. She loves that little girl like she's her own sister, which Judith basically is. We are all just one big extended family. I can't help the joy that brings me. These people are my family. I trust them with my life and I would die protecting any one of them.
But not everyone is here.
Rick catches my eye, the leader sitting at one of the tables with his son. Neither are talking, Rick's gaze glazed over. The man is beside himself. I know he feels guilty as hell for letting Aria sacrifice herself, but she told him to make it back to his family and protect them. The only problem is that he failed part of that family. We're all suffering, all asking the same questions that I ask every second of the day:
Is she alive? Are they torturing her? Will she come back like she said she would?
The room is silent except for the hum of light conversations and clacking spoons that echo off the cold stone walls. I finish the tasteless breakfast and sit, staring off at nothing as I let blame and doubt play a nasty game inside my head.
A blaring ray of sunlight pours into the room as the prison door is ripped open. "Guys, get out here quick!" Glenn shouts from the door.
I leap up from the table, loading an arrow as I bolt up the stairs. Rick follows with Maggie, Merle, and Michonne. Glenn stands by the gate, straining to get a look at whatever through the mob of walkers.
"What is it?" Rick asks worriedly, struggling to see the threat.
"I saw someone coming out of the woods but I couldn't get a good view," Glenn answers, worry also heavy in his voice. Each of us readies our weapons, not sure if this is another attack or what.
Rick takes the rifle from Glenn, climbing up on one of the picnic tables to see out over the field. I climb up next to him, searching for the enemy. Instead, I find a lone figure struggling up to the prison gates. Walkers encircle the stranger and I watch them lash out, taking down the dead that gets too close. Their movements are sluggish, delayed. They reach the gates, taking out another corpse as they finally look up to us.
My heart leaps into my throat and I'm already jumping down from the table as Rick mutters a silent,
"Holy shit."
I rip the large gate open, picking off the walkers that fall into the prison grounds. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, the rest of the group yelling and shouting but I don't hear them. I'm focused solely on the five foot five woman still desperately fighting off the overwhelming sea of walkers. Gunshots sound around me, covering my blind spots. I sprint down the gravel path, firing arrows at the ring of dead circling the only woman I've ever loved.
"Aria!" I scream between a lungful of air. She takes out another walker and then suddenly collapses.
Nononononononono.
Panic races through my veins, legs pushing even faster as I chant over and over,
She's still alive. She's still alive.
Walkers circle around her lifeless form but are quickly picked off by my arrows and the bullets of the group. Sliding to my knees, I slide to a halt beside Aria, gathering her up in my arms. She's limp in my hold and I frantically clear her face of her dirty brown locks. My jaw clenches, shooting pain radiating up into my temples.
Her face is a wreck. Sickening bruises and dried blood paint her features. Her left eye is swollen shut and her cheek is puffy, the cuts there oozing fresh blood. A crimson trail drips from her nose down her split lips. I can hardly recognize my girl.
I check her pulse, fingers pressed to her neck searching for that steady beat. Finding it beating as it should, a quick sigh of relief escapes me. But it's short lived because now I need her awake. I need to tell how much I love her, to know if she can forgive me.
"Aria?" I give her a gentle shake in my arms, hoping it will stir her. Instead, her head rolls into my chest with no response. "Aria, come on girl. Wake up."
The rest of the world is a blur. The others are shouting, their voices growing closer as the gunshots become fewer. All my attention, though, is on Aria.
"Please girl, wake up. Please," I beg, my eyes burning with unshed tears as my voice grows tight. I just want to see her smile one last time. Hear her speak those three simple words.
She stirs in my arms, sluggishly opening her eyes, and the weight on my shoulders lifts. "Hey, hey, you're safe. I got you," I murmur gently, running a soothing hand over her head, brushing her hair out of her face.
Her one good eye finds mine, a faint smile tugging at her busted lips, "Told you…I'd…come back." I grin, nodding like an idiot at whatever she says because she's okay now. Aria's back and I've got her, and I ain't gonna let anything else happen to her.
Slowly, I watch her slipping back into unconsciousness and I give her good shake, pleading, "No, no, come on, babe. Stay awake."
A whimper leaves her, struggling to do as I order. The rest of the group is still taking out walkers, giving me an extra moment to look over my girl. I regret my decision immediately.
She's dressed only in an oversized flannel that is coated in dirt and blood. Her bare legs are covered in bruises and vicious wounds that are oozing red. I'm afraid to see what is hiding under the thin fabric.
I'm going to slit that fucker's throat.
"Hang in there just a little longer," I murmur, shoving my rage aside for the time being as I slip my arms under her, lifting her off the ground into my arms.
A cry of pain slips from Aria, bringing me up short, but I have to get to Hershel. "Sorry, darling," I whisper, moving fast, and trying not to jostle her too much. Rick and the rest rush to my side, freezing in their approach when they see who it is.
"Is that Aria?" Glenn gasps, eyes wide as he takes in her state. I ignore them all, though. Right now, I need to get her help, need to know that the damage isn't as bad as it looks.
"Stay with me, girl," I mumble the whole way as I run up the gravel path and storm into the cell block. The old man's name echoes off the stone walls as I enter the dark prison, "Hershel!"
Vaguely, I catch sight of him and the rest who didn't follow us outside. But I don't stop, moving right to C block and slipping into the first empty cell I spot. There is a chorus of concerned voices that follow the rushed clacking of Hershel's crutches.
I lay Aria down on the cot gently, panting as I notice that she's knocked out again. "Hey, Aria, open those eyes, girl. Come on." Her one good eye slips open, evergreen irises dazed. I brush her hair back, afraid to do anything else because I don't want to cause her more pain.
Hershel steps in; Beth, Carol, and the rest of the group all gathered behind him. The old man is unfazed unlike the rest of our group who stares in shock. "Beth, get water and towels. Carol we're going to need the med kit and any medicine we have available." The two women take off, stirring everyone. They back away, giving Hershel his space to do what he needs to.
He settles down beside Aria on the bed, getting to work right away. Aria's breaths are labored, wheezing with every strained inhale. Her eyes are shut, battered features tight with pain. I stay in the corner of the tiny cell, out of the way. I take Aria in more carefully now, cringing with every injury I spot. It's worse than I've ever imagined, reminding me too much of my old man's vicious beatings.
Carol and Beth hurry into the cell, arms full of supplies. "Is she gonna be all right?" Beth asks, her face pinched in worry.
"I'm…still breathing…Greene." Aria's gasped words startle us and soft grins frame our faces.
"Aria, I need you stay awake for me."
Her eyes flutter, struggling to fight off unconsciousness, "Do my best."
The old man nods, worry lining his features as he begins to gently assess her injuries. Trained hands start at her head and work their way down. Carol kneels beside the bed, wetting the towels before she starts tending to her. She cleans Aria's bruised body, the blood caked to her skin. Slowly, the red washes away, but underneath is worse. Her skin is a paisley pattern of green blues, plum purples, and sickly transparent yellows. Brutal cuts line her legs, stab wounds littering her thighs.
I'm in awe of my girl with every moment as I take in all the damage. She fucking made it back here like this. It's a miracle.
"You still with me, Aria?" Hershel questions. Her eyelids flutter open painfully as she forces a shaky reply,
"Yeah."
Aria's breaths are shallow, her split lips are pressed tightly together, brows knit together in obvious discomfort. I watch, my attention torn between her and Hershel's care. He grabs her right arm to roll up the sleeves when a high pitched yelp billows out of her. I'm behind the old man in a second, hovering. Aria struggles to catch her breath, Hershel and Carol sharing uneasy looks before he gingerly cradles the arm in his lap, uncovering it. A whimper escapes Aria and I start pacing, chewing on my raw cuticles.
Her wrists are mangled and infected, rubbed raw by whatever they used to restrain her. Then there's the swelling. Her forearm is black and blue, swollen and awkwardly angled. Blood fills my mouth as I tear the skin on my thumb too far.
Hershel checks her other arm, noting the odd angle her thumb is hanging at. I clench my hands, fire burning through my veins as my dull nails dig into my palms. Guilt nestles in my chest and wreaks havoc, ripping me apart.
"It looks like your forearm is broken and your thumb is dislocated," Hershel starts with a sigh, "I have to set the bones and pop your thumb back into the joint."
Her eyes snaps shut, a ragged breath leaving her, "Do it."
She grips the bed sheets desperately as Hershel examines her left hand. There's no countdown or warning. He moves the thumb back into its joint with an eerie pop. Aria groans loudly, jaw clenched as she fights to breathe through the pain. Not wasting a second, Hershel cradles her broken arm in his hands and with a quick flick of his wrists, sets the bones back in place. A shrill scream of agony fills the cell as Aria shoots up in bed.
The old man keeps ahold of her arm and she sits hunched, breaths fatigued as silent tears pour down her swollen face. Carol wraps it the best she can, the white gauze weaved in between her fingers and wrapped up above her elbow. It's the best we can do to immobilize it.
I'm going to make that piece of shit pay for this.
And I will. I'm going back to that town and putting an arrow through the Governor's eye. I don't care what it takes. He will suffer for what he's done to my girl.
Aria gingerly lies back down with a hiss of pain. Hershel stitches up her wrists where it is needed. But no matter what, a scar will be left behind. The skin there will always be darker, acting as a painful reminder.
Carol and Hershel work side by side, doing the best they can to help her. They clean and stitch, wrap and soothe until all that's left is what is hiding under the flannel shirt. I'm dreading this moment, knowing that my thin line of control will snap when I see the damage.
"We got to cut the shirt off," Hershel explains simply and Aria's face pales. Carol grabs the scissors and her whole body goes rigid. She's absolutely terrified and seeing her trembling has my heart breaking.
The scissors cut up her sleeve, Aria's breaths growing more ragged, verging on hyperventilating. Hershel stops and I finally step in. I can't sit here on the sidelines not helping.
"Hey, easy, darling, just slow down," I soothe, stepping in between the two as I cup her jaw, running my thumb soothingly over her cheek. She shakes her head, lips trembling. A few tears escape and those evergreen eyes meet mine.
Pure fear sits in those dark irises, drowning in the emotion. My stomach knots up tight, more worried about what is hiding beneath this shirt. And I'd leave it if I could. We can't, though. We need to treat her obvious broken ribs, check for signs of internal bleeding. So, the shirt has to go and taking it off normally will only cause her more pain. This is the easiest.
I wipe a stray tear away, tracing her bruised jawline. "You trust me, right?" She nods slowly, breaths still panicked. "Just keep your eyes on me then."
Carol hands me the scissors, those forest eyes glued to my ocean ones as I start. They're not the eyes of the woman I know. They're broken, utterly vulnerable depths that unnerve me. It's too similar to what I saw reflected in the mirror as a kid. Her left hand clutches at my shirt, fighting to focus on me as I cut.
A string of comforting words leaves me in a whisper, making quick work of the sleeves. The mangled skin of her left shoulder is revealed as I finish with the left sleeve. It's red with infection, skin frayed from the way the stitches tore, making the wound messier than original.
The memories rush forward as I'm forced to remember how those men held her against her will, pushing that walker on her.
She suffered through that bite all alone.
I swallow hard with the thought. She didn't have anyone there to tell her the hallucinations weren't real, no one there to ground her to the present and not her horrible past.
I look away from the mark, moving to the buttons on her shirt and opening them carefully. Reaching the last one, Aria's hand clenches tight in my shirt, knuckles growing white as she starts to hyperventilate again. I meet those forest eyes finding them filled with shame, tears spilling down her cheeks. She looks away, staring off into the corner of the cell, refusing to meet any of our gazes. Undoing the final button, I open the shirt, and bile burns the back of my throat.
"Oh my god," Carol mutters under her breath. I'm frozen, unable to do anything other than stare. Across her abdomen, the word 'pet' is carved into her skin. The lines of each letter are jagged, leaving the skin puckered and in need of stitching. It was purposeful, meant to scar.
But what has me frozen in place, has my hands trembling in rage while lung-crushing guilt crashes over me, is the person behind the word. This isn't the Governor, not all of it at least. No, it's something so much worse. Because that single word is reserved for only one monster.
Oriax.
This is the work of the demon who thrust her into this life originally, the same one who took her family from her and scarred her for life; physically, mentally, and emotionally. And somehow that abomination got a hold of her again.
Aria bites her torn lips, fresh blood dripping down her mouth. She stares off into space, not here in this cell anymore but lost to the monsters in her head.
I know I should do something, anything, but I can't. The truth is there is nothing I can say or do to make this better.
I'm still frozen at her bedside when Hershel finally takes control. He threads a needle and gets to work on stitching the horrid three lettered word. His fatherly blue eyes are blank slates, being the professional he is. I stand behind the old man, watching over his shoulder.
This is your fault.
Carol places a towel over her breasts trying to give her some privacy as she starts to clean the blood from her torso. Massive bruises appear from beneath the red, only making me sicker to my stomach. Her entire right side is a deep purple, some spots black and others a shadowy blue-green. That side also fails to rise in sync with her left, meaning she's got at least two ribs fractured in the same area.
Hershel finishes stitching her stomach and a few other cuts that needed it. His brows knit together in deep concern as he listens to her chest with his stethoscope. But we all know there ain't shit you can do for broken ribs. All we can do is hope that she doesn't develop pneumonia.
"Aria, we need to sit you up," the old man explains in reluctance. He knows she's hurting and sitting up is only going to aggravate those ribs more.
More tears fall as she barely nods her head. Carol grips her gently under her arms and helps her into a sitting position. Aria gasps, chin tucked to her chest.
There's a sharp intake from Carol before she moves to sit behind Aria, tears pooling in her gray eyes. I come to her side and my legs nearly give out on me. Aria's back is nothing but a mangled, bleeding mess. The skin is raw, a giant scab that is splitting open. There's nothing to stitch because it's all superficial but mostly because there's nothing to stitch back together. The skin is literally scratched off.
"Wire brush." Aria's breathless words hit me hard and I look away, resting my head against the rough stone wall.
I can't do this. I'm being torn apart from the inside. Rage has my veins sizzling and grief has me spinning down a dark hole with no end in sight. Then there's blame and that's not stopping anytime soon because every minute Aria is hurting I will only curse myself more.
All you had to do was go with her.
Aria wavers, Carol steadying her as Hershel looks over her back. He sighs after a moment, settling back beside my girl and digging through the black medical bag. He frees a bottle of rum, apologetic,
"Aria, I have to clean this."
She lifts her head, catching sight of the bottle. A switch flips inside her and Aria shakes her head violently, panicking as she struggles to back away from Hershel. Carol tries to stop her from moving, gripping her from behind gently but it only makes her freak out more.
"No, don't. It's fine. It'll be fine," she breathes, gasping, broken arm cradled against her chest.
"Sweetheart, it's infected. If we leave this, you could die," Carol explains and a choked sob escapes Aria. Her head drops to her chest and she leans forward, giving in so easily.
Carol and Hershel switch spots. The older woman cradles Aria's head against her chest, speaking reassuring words that fill the small room as Hershel unscrews the cap. The sobs rack through my girl, bruised body trembling.
Hershel hesitates before tipping the amber liquor over the wound. My eyes snap shut as Aria's body arches, a choked scream torn out of her. I clench my jaw tight, pain radiating up into my temples as she sobs through the agony. The old man finishes and the two help Aria to sit up straight. They wrap her torso in gauze, leaving her back uncovered to let the skin breathe for the time being.
"Pain pills?" Aria asks, struggling even more now to keep awake. She can hardly hold herself upright anymore, the pain and exhaustion getting to her.
"Soon, Aria," Hershel offers apologetically as he helps her lie flat on her back. Her head lolls to the side lazily, eyes flickering open and closed. Carol leaves in search of clothes to cover her up. I stay against the wall, watching the old man check both of her legs. It's more wounds that require stitching and colorful bruises. He tugs her boots off and her left ankle is the size of a softball.
A weak whimper escapes my girl as he checks for any unnatural sounds or movement. "Nothing is broken," he murmurs, grabbing more gauze as he wraps the joint, giving her some much-needed support. And it's a small relief after all that I've seen today.
Carol steps back into the room with a pair of baggy sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. She stands next to me, letting Hershel finish his assessment as he grabs a small penlight. He pulls open her good eye, shining the light into the green depths. Aria moans, rolling her head away from the old man.
"What's your full name?"
It takes longer than it should take for her to answer and those forest eyes grow heavier. "Aria."
I chew on my lip, anxiety eating at me because it's another injury. She's definitely concussed as Hershel probes more,
"What's your last name?"
Her brows cinch together, another silence dragging on before she answers, "I want…sleep."
"You can in another minute, but can you tell me where you're at?"
Aria's lips curl up slightly, eyes slipping shut as she breathes, "Safe."
Hershel gives her a gentle shake but she is out. He checks her pulse, letting out a long breath, "She's got a concussion most definitely. We need to keep an eye on her, watch the way she's breathing. When she wakes we'll try and get some food and pain meds in her. Maybe after the meds kick in we can try to get her to take deeper breaths. If she doesn't, we have to worry about pneumonia setting in. I'll have Glenn and Maggie go to the infirmary and see what kind of medication they can find. We don't want any of these wounds getting infected."
I nod along, watching in relief and guilt as my girl is finally out of misery for the time being. Carol starts to dress her as Hershel packs his medical bag and stands up on his crutches.
"Don't beat yourself up, son. There was nothing any of us could have done," the old man offers, leaving without a response from me.
Carol gets her dressed, draping a light blanket over her. She hesitates at the entrance of the cell, her gray eyes on me in worry but I never take my eyes off Aria. So, Carol leaves and I set my crossbow against the wall as I take a seat on the hard floor. Aria's fatigued breaths fill the quiet, reminding me that despite how she looks she is still alive.
Time passes, the cold seeping into my bones from the stone floor. I don't know how long it is before Rick shows up at the cell. Wordlessly, he hands me a small plate of beans and rice. I take it but put it off to the side not hungry. I don't think I can eat anything right now, not after what I've seen.
Rick slides down the wall next to me, watching Aria fight in her sleep. Her faces screws up, breaths growing ragged and then she calms, the nightmare passing. We sit in silence for a long time before I finally break it.
"It wasn't the Governor."
"Who was it then?"
I stare down at my hands, picking at my torn cuticles, an edge to my voice, "The same demon that tortured her before."
"Daryl…I'm sorry," he murmurs, the guilt heavy in his voice. It's killing both of us because we both left her. "I tried to stop her, man. I did."
And I know that. I know that she made Rick choose between his children and her, an ultimatum that wasn't fair. It doesn't ease the rage burning inside me, though. Because in the end, I have to live with the fact that I left the woman I love behind with a psychotic dictator and the monster off her nightmares. All I want to do is go back to Woodbury and bury that demon knife in Oriax's chest, to slit the Governor's throat for what he did. I want someone to pay for the pain that my girl is in.
"I know what you're feeling. You want revenge and I promise you, we will get it. But she needs you, Daryl. Right now, that's all that matters."
Aria whimpers, hands balling up into white knuckled fists. My vengeance calms a bit, seeing her so distraught even in her sleep. Rick is right. All I can do at this moment is be here for my girl. I left her once and I ain't ever gonna leave her again.
Judith's cries sound through the prison, reverberating off the stone walls. Rick glances out the cell door, listening to his daughter.
"You should go."
Rick hesitates before nodding. His hand hovers near my shoulder, wanting to give me some support but not knowing if the gesture is welcomed or not. Instead, he lets his hand fall to his side, turning last minute at the cell door,
"Make sure you eat."
I heave a heavy sigh in the leader's absence, looking at the cold food that he brought. Food is the last thing I want to think about but I know I ain't been eating since Aria stayed behind. I also don't want the food going to waste and if Aria was awake, she would chew my ass out for not taking care of myself.
So, I force the cold food into my mouth, eating without tasting. When I'm done, I leave the plate on the desk in the cell, not willing to leave Aria's side yet.
The prison is devoured by the dark of night, the only source of light coming from the sliver of moonlight filtering in through the dirty windows. Knowing sleep will not be coming tonight, I stay sitting against the wall, my mind wandering. The hours tick by, eyes drifting shut as I listen to the silence of the cell block.
Rustling bed sheets have my worn eyes peeling open. Aria shifts in the bed, a slew of pleas escaping her in a gasped whisper, "Please, no don't….No…" I watch helplessly, hoping the dream will pass soon like all her others. Sure enough, a minute later her begging ceases and the cell grows silent save for her ragged breaths.
I stare out the cell door, watching the barely visible night sky through the barred windows. My eyes begin to drift shut yet again, seeking relief, and then Aria screams. It's blood curdling, echoing off the stone walls and ringing in my ears. My heart twists in my chest and I leap off the floor and towards her.
This ain't like any of her other nightmares. Aria flails in her sleep, fighting for her life it seems and she screams endlessly for her torturer to stop. It's like she's reliving that hell.
I grip her biceps, trying to pin her flying arms without hurting her. "Aria, you're safe! It's just a dream!"
But my words are lost on her as she continues to thrash around in the bed. Little Ass Kicker's cries sound over Aria's shrill screams and I struggle to calm her down. Not seeing any other option, I pull her upright, locking her against me as I muffle her screams against my chest.
"I'm here. I'm here, girl. It's me. You're safe. I'm not leaving you," I murmur in her ear as she struggles against me, tears soaking my shirt.
But her weak body can only fight for so long. The exhaustion hits her quick and she slowly goes slack in my arms, cries quieting down to scared whimpers. Aria never wakes, though, falling into another peaceful sleep for however long.
Shadows creep over the cell floor and I look up to find Rick and Merle. Judith is cradled in her father's arms as he rocks her back and forth gently. Those ice blue eyes are swimming in sorrow as he meets my stare. He gives me a stiff nod, wordlessly letting me know that he's here if I need him. It's strange how in one day our roles switched. I went from trying to talk Rick off the edge of insanity to him doing the same for me.
Merle stays, though, watching me and my girl. Aria fists her hand in my shirt, clinging to me desperately. Her swollen face is tucked against the crook of my neck, breaths uneven against my skin.
"You really love her?"
I look at my brother, seeing him staring at us with a look of fascination. Glancing down at the woman in my arms, I nod.
Aria is everything. She's the reason for my strength yet can bring me to my knees. She is the first and last thought my mind has morning and night. I don't deserve her but, god, I can't stop wanting her. She gave me the confidence I needed to be the man I wanted to be. And Aria could leave me, she could easily find someone better because she deserves better, but she doesn't. She wants me just as bad as I want her. That's what I know with every fiber of my being and sitting here, I ain't got a clue how to explain that to Merle.
"Never thought I'd see my baby brother in love," he comments with amusement, teasing as always.
"Didn't really think it myself," I answer honestly, still trying to understand how I could have ever lived without this woman in my arms. Aria moans, hand fisting tighter in my shirt, nails scratching against my chest. I grip her hand, hoping it gives her the strength to fight off those monsters in her mind.
"You got yourself a fighter there, little brother." Meeting that matching ocean stare, I see that rare look of pride and love.
We Dixons ain't exactly been dealt a fair life, relationships being one of the unlucky culprits. We both didn't want to get close to people, what good was it when everyone left? So, Merle slept around, getting what he wanted without the strings attached and I remained in solitude. But that's different now and I'm changing the Dixon name. We can be happy despite all the shit we've suffered. We just got to find the right people.
I hum in agreement, knowing that Aria is more than a fighter. She's a damn warrior, a tenacious and unbreakable one.
Merle leaves without a word, already reaching his limit of comfort for the whole touchy feeling thing. Sighing, I lie Aria back down and instead of going back to the floor, I curl up next her. Carefully, I rest my arm over her stitched abdomen, pulling her close, her grip on my shirt unwavering. I yank the blanket up around her, running my hand through her hair, murmuring,
"I got you, darling."
Sleep comes eventually, throwing me into a fitful slumber filled with nightmares. Aria's night ain't much better, her pained moans pulling me out of my light sleep.
Hands shake me and my eyes shoot open, hand already reaching for the knife at my hip. "Easy there, son," Hershel's tender voice reassures and a breath of relief rushes from me.
Rubbing my eyes, I look around and note the bright rays of sunlight pouring into the cell. Aria moans, shifting next me and I realize her hand is still balled up in my shirt.
"What time is it?" I ask groggily, trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes. I don't even remember falling asleep.
"Don't worry about that. Why don't you go get yourself some food, take a break for a while. I'll keep an eye on her," the old man offers, settling down on a stool right beside the bed.
Glancing down at my girl, I debate. The last thing I want to do is leave her. I've spent enough time apart from her. But I also have a responsibility to this group. Aria escaped Woodbury which means we need to be prepared for another possible attack and not just from the Governor. Oriax could come after her. We need to fortify this place, ward it and be prepared. I ain't gonna let that monster get to her again. Not this time.
Pulling myself free of her tiring grip, I ease myself out of bed. Aria immediately grips the sheets where I was lying, like holding onto anything that is me will keep her safe. I chew on my lip before grabbing my crossbow.
"I'm gonna take watch. Anything happens, come and get me."
The old man nods and I leave, sparing one last look at my girl before I'm off.
Aria's POV
Black dots dance in my vision. Another hit to the ribs and I feel the bone snap. I bite the inside of my cheek drawing blood, holding back my cry of pain. Red drips down my forearms from the torn flesh at my wrists. My feet scrape against the blood spattered ground, trying to keep my swaying body still.
"Where is that angel of yours again, sunshine?" His voice still that of a slithering snake, making my skin crawl.
My brain beats itself against my skull, the pain making it hard to concentrate on the demon's words. The dagger digs into my thigh, leaving a trail of red in its wake. The burn of the cut is hardly noticeable until fire sears up my leg. I can't hold back my cry of agony, forced back into the moment.
"There she is!" Oriax bellows, voice bouncing off the walls. His hand is gloved as he pours salt into my freshly cut leg and I grit my teeth through the pain. He grips my chin, the rubber scent of the glove filling my nostrils as he forces me to look into those soulless dark eyes.
"Now I thought we had something special? Those six months together I really got to know you, pet. Then you leave me and I find you with some redneck…knocked up."
'What?'
My mind struggles to process this fact, panic bubbling up inside me. This can't be happening. But it all makes so much more sense; the vomiting, fatigue, the body aches, they are all signs.
An evil grin spreads across Oriax's lips. "You didn't know? Milton tested your blood and found that little surprise. I can feel it too, the little soul. It's so pure, so innocent." He coos, rubbing my bare stomach.
I spit in his face, the demon's grin falling as a sinister look overcomes him. "Stay the fuck away from me," I snarl, wishing that I could better hide how much pain I'm in. I'm not going down without a fight, though. I'm not just protecting myself anymore.
Oriax wipes his face clean of my bloodied spit, a slow wicked smile creeping up on his thin lips. The door opens behind him and four men step in. I watch their eyes glaze over to a jet black and my stomach sinks.
"Boys, take her down and teach her some respect."
They nod, one of them grabbing the remote control and lowering me on my on my feeble legs. My body collapses under its own weight, leaving me in a heap on the floor, my chest burning and my shoulders aching.
I barely catch my breath when the first boot slams into my back. The wind is knocked out of my empty lungs and I choke violently. The blows continue ferociously, leaving me a broken, bloodied mess. It is fists and feet, unrelenting and brutal. I drift in and out of consciousness, struggling to stay awake because I can't die here. But any effort to fight back is useless.
Blackness comes and I'm yanked free of the comfort, rough fingers digging into my jaw. My drooping eyes meet Oriax's, his snarled words ripping me apart,
"Can you feel it? Can you feel the loss?"
My heart races in my chest, breathing ragged as I wake. Instant pain blooms behind my eyes and I squeeze them shut. Then the brutal throb of my chest registers, tears springing free as I try to breathe.
"Glad to see you're awake."
Panic again sears through me and I whip my head to the side to see the speaker. My head spins and I groan, swallowing hard against the burn in the back of my throat. I wait for the nausea to pass before slowly opening my eyes again.
Hershel sits on a stool, crutches resting against the wall next to him. His white hair is pulled back in a ponytail, his beard still just as long as I remember. Those fatherly baby blue eyes are warm as I meet them, struggling to remember what all transpired.
You escaped.
I grin, wincing as pain explodes across the left side of my face. "Glad to be awake," I rasp, letting my eyes fall shut once more. The sunlight pouring into the cell has my head throbbing like a bass drum. But relief sweeps through me, easing away the last traces of panic. Hershel is alive.
He lied.
"How are you feeling?"
"Morphine would be great but I'll settle for a bottle of jack and vicodin," I answer honestly, wincing from the pain that comes with speaking. The truth is that everything hurts. Any movement is impossible.
"I'll talk to Rick. See if they can't find something stronger." Hershel grabs his crutches, making to leave but I don't want to be alone. I remember what it was like in the hospital after the first time. I don't want to think about what I just endured.
"I'm fine, Hershel. You can get them later. Just sit and relax, I'm sure you didn't sleep with me screaming all night."
His baby blue eyes watch me carefully, scrutinizing as I try my best to mask my pain. But he relents, sitting back down. I can't help but smirk in victory. The scabs on my lips pull with the grin, my fractured cheekbone aching.
My eyes drift shut once again, sighing as I ask, "What's the prognosis, Doc?"
"From what I can tell your left arm is broken. Your thumb should be fine in a few days and the stitches in your wrists can come out in a week. The bite in your shoulder is going to leave a nasty scar from the way the stitches tore. Your cheek bone is fractured, you have three broken ribs and your ankle is severely strained."
"You forgot the concussion," I mumble, knowing that the old man is leaving a few specific injuries out.
Don't forget about the miscarriage.
Tears burn my eyes, a lump lodging itself in my throat. I try to bury it, shove it down into those deep dark holes of my mind. I can't deal with this all yet.
Hershel remains quiet, patient as he lets me control the conversation. The silence carries on, though, because I'm not sure what to say. Everything is too fresh and I'm afraid that if I open my mouth, I'm going to lose it.
So, we sit in silence. As my body grows more awake, new pains begin to surface until everything is one pulsating throb that nearly takes my breath away. My muscles grow tight with the pain, mind begging for a reprieve from the agony but the concussion still has me dizzy, unable to sleep as the world spins.
"They're all dead, pet. I killed every last one of them."
Bile burns the back of my throat, threatening to spew. Then anxiety hits me, heart hammering against my ribs.
Who's all alive?
I know Oriax lied. I know he did because I'm here at the prison. But I can't help the doubt that is plaguing my mind, making me question everything. All of this could be fake for all I know, a sick dream that my fractured psych conjured up to cope with Oriax's torture. Or I'm finally dead and this is Oriax's way of torturing me in Hell like Sam thought Lucifer was doing to him.
There's only one way to find out, though, and that's to see it for myself. Gingerly, cringing with the simple movement, I sit up.
"Aria, you're in no condition to be up right now," Hershel chastises, leaning forward on his stool to help me lie back down.
"I'm fine," I grunt, stifling a pained groan as I manage to get my feet flat on the floor. The room spins, breaths ragged and painful.
"You are not fine," he snaps, still managing to keep that tender note in his voice.
I meet those soft fatherly eyes, pleading with him, "I need to do this."
I'm desperate. After everything I went through, I have to see for myself that they are all alive. This couldn't have been done in vain. Sighing, Hershel relents, knowing that even is he says no, I'm going to do it either way. At least he can watch me now and be there if I croak.
Drawing in a deep breath, my ribs protest and the scabs on my back stretch open as I push myself up on my feet. The world tilts, the onslaught of agony that pulses through me crippling. I stumble, feeling myself falling and hands grip my shoulders steadying me.
I gasp for air, taking a moment before I open my eyes to see Hershel standing on his crutches, his grip unwavering on me. He shakes his head in disproval and I smirk, patting his hand gingerly. Scabs rip open, warm blood oozing from the wounds. Muscles protest vehemently and my stitches pull at every small movement.
You can do this, Aria. You made it all the way here this fucked up you can make it a few more feet.
Glancing down at myself, I notice I'm dressed in a long sleeved shirt and baggy sweats that hang low on my waist. I test my bad ankle, gripping the bunk bed for support with my good arm. Compared to my other injuries, the pain is nothing so I rule it as good enough.
Hershel still has a supporting hand on me, gripping my bicep. I grin, fighting not to sway on my feet from the dizziness,
"I'm starving." My stomach grumbles with the admission, clenching with hunger. I don't remember the last time I ate, honestly. The old man smiles softly, letting me go as he follows close behind me.
This walk isn't long but as I stand wavering by the cell, seeing the distance, I'm wondering if I can really do this.
You can. You have to.
I force myself to take the agonizing deep breaths my lungs need and start forward. Fire sears up my stomach from each breath, the movement pulling at the stitches there. Sharp, crippling pain shoots up my ankle into my hip with every step. Every muscle protests, burning from the small exertion of walking. My head throbs unbearably, the dizziness only getting worse, forcing me to cling to the cell doors as I continue.
Hershel follows, keeping pace with me as he watches my efforts with sharp eyes. I gasp for air, seeing the old man reaching out to stop me but I wave him off. I just have a little farther to go. Sucking it up and grinding my teeth through the agony, I stumble the last few feet, clinging to the barred doors of the common room.
My heart swells, tears spilling down my cheeks. I take everybody in, grinning like mad.
They're all alive.
I grip the prison bars tightly to hold myself up as I watch everyone move around, oblivious to me. Beth sits at a table with Carl next to her, the two of them playing with Judith. Carol and Maggie sit together at another table, sorting ammo while Glenn, Rick, Michonne, and Merle talk heatedly over a map. Hershel gently squeezes my arm as he steps into the room. Carol looks up as he enters and those gray eyes land on me.
She sucks in a sharp breath and all eyes snap to her following her stare and landing on me. Awe paints all their faces as they take me in. My tears are endless, the lump in my throat making speaking impossible.
This is real. You made it out. You escaped him.
I stumble forward, legs nearly giving out on me. Everybody moves at once, Carol at my side in a flash, gripping me under my arms. She tries to move me but I stop her, gripping her arm and tugging her against me in a weak hug.
It catches her off guard before she slowly wraps her arms around me, minding my injuries. "You're alive," I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut as Oriax's words fill my head. She nods, pulling away with a bright smile, wiping some of my tears away.
"We're all here."
I look around and Carl stands behind Carol. He springs forward, arms wrapping around my waist tight. I smooth his hair back with my good hand, my broken arm cradled against my chest.
"I killed the little boy just as I killed your baby brother. I drove the knife through his chest, letting him choke on his own blood."
My hands shake as I wrap my arms around the young Grimes, feeling his chest rise and fall and reminding myself that Oriax's words were just lies. Carl looks up at me, his smile reaching his young ice blue eyes. That hardened mask is still there, hiding behind the immense relief. He almost lost another piece of his family.
"I'm really glad you came back."
"Me too," I mumble tightly, my words thick with tears.
Carl lets me go, stepping back and Maggie is right behind him, wrapping me up in her arms. Her tears stain my shirt and I bury my hand in the back of her shirt, holding her tight. "I'm so sorry," she mumbles but I hush her,
"It's not anybody's fault, Maggie. It was my decision."
She nods, drawing in a deep breath, calming herself down as she pulls away, holding me in her arms. "We stay together from now on," she says, not leaving much room for me to argue with the look she fixes me with.
I squeeze her hand, "Together."
Glenn steps up beside her, head bowed. Maggie moves aside, giving Glenn and me a moment. His bruising is almost all healed, now a pale yellow color instead of the hideous black and blue. The guilt he's carrying is weighing him down and I know it's my fault he feels that way.
"Please don't do this, Glenn," I plead. What happened was out of all of our control. If I knew, Oriax was there…things would have been different.
Those dark brown eyes meet mine, heavy with guilt. I reach out, pulling him into a hug. Everyone is blaming themselves for what happened. The room is so heavy with guilt I feel like I'm drowning.
"We're going to kill him," Glenn deadpans and I shake my head, wanting to focus on this moment for as long as possible.
"Can my friend just hold me?" Glenn shuts up after that, giving me a small squeeze and releasing me.
Looking around the room, I notice the rest of the group. Michonne gives me a brief nod and Beth whispers into Judith's ear while looking at me with admiration and joy. Merle steps away from Rick, heading towards me.
I grip the cell bars tight, giving myself some support. Panic begins to creep into my veins. We didn't get along prior to him going missing in Atlanta. I just hope that we can start from scratch because a lot has changed from the days at the quarry. The older Dixon rubs the back of his neck nervously, looking anywhere but me.
"What you did for my brother and me...I,um, thanks for that."
"You protect family." Merle finally looks at me, our eyes meeting. I know how Merle and Daryl are about family because it's just how Sam and Dean were. It's all you got, no matter what.
Rick stands in his same spot, watching my interactions. A weight sits on his shoulders. He is weighed down so heavily with guilt I can imagine him being crushed like a pancake beneath it. His lips curl up in a warm smile,
"Welcome back."
A thousand emotions run through me. It's a lot to take in after everything. The tears start again as I ramble, "I thought they killed all of you."
The ex-sheriff comes forward, explaining, "The Governor attacked the prison. Killed Axel, but we're all still here."
And even though I can see that they are all alive, those words are what really stick with me. It's an audible valium, all the panic and fear leaving me. That sick son of bitch didn't win. Rick sees my relief and pulls me in for a hug as a choked sob escapes me.
You're safe. You made it back to your family.
I ease out of our embrace, so proud of everyone here. They didn't need me to survive. As long as they are together they can handle anything. The prison door creeks open and my heart starts racing, stomach fluttering.
Daryl steps in, crossbow in hand and his winged leather vest buttoned up over a long sleeved shirt. His eyes are trained downward, shoulders slumped. Those long strands of brown hair are windblown, body worn down. He steps off the last step, finally lifting his head up. Those ocean eyes find mine immediately.
I try to hold back my tears but it's no use. I was afraid I would never see him again, that the last memory I would have of the hunter would be him fighting desperately to save me. I thought that I had lost him forever and that terrified me more than Oriax. Because this group is my family but my home is Daryl.
The hunter stands frozen in place, those dark navy eyes wide, mouth slightly ajar. And there's no way to explain how I feel. Because the tears aren't sadness but profound joy, and the butterflies in my gut aren't nerves. They are excitement for the man that I love to hold me in his arms and make me feel safe again.
"Daryl," I breathe, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. A sob escapes me and then he's there, my hunter wrapping me up in his strong arms.
He squeezes and my body protests but I ignore it. This is what it was all for. It was for him. So, all that matters right now is Daryl holding me.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I sob, clutching him desperately.
Daryl shakes his head, face buried in my neck. A tear slips down my collarbone and I try to hold him tighter, to take away some of the pain I caused.
"I love you, Aria. I love you so damn much," he murmurs eagerly, like I'll disappear before he can get all the words out. But he's never going to lose me, not again.
"I love you too."
Daryl is frantic, overjoyed as he grips my swollen face, brushing my tears away before pressing his lips to mine. It's a paradox; sweet, tender, and sends my heart a flutter yet rough, ravenous, and steals my breath. He pulls away just as breathless as me, pressing our foreheads together as his thumb traces my lips.
"I ain't letting you out of my sight," he swears with a stupid grin on his face.
"I'm not going anywhere," I promise, his grin contagious. His hand fists in my hair, holding me tight and I bury my hands in his vest. There isn't anybody else. It's just me and him holding onto to each other for dear life.
I could live in this moment for eternity but the world is not so merciful. That all too familiar flutter of wings fills the acoustic prison, and I stiffen. A chorus of sharp breaths sound before that gravelly voice is filling my ears,
"Hello, Aria."
The rage is instantaneous. Adrenaline pours into my veins, numbing me. There's no more pain only the need to beat the shit out of a friend that was supposed to have my back. I spin around, pinning Cas to the wall, my good arm pressed against his throat as I rave,
"WHERE WERE YOU?! I PRAYED TO YOU FOR MONTHS! MONTHS, CAS! NOT A SINGLE FUCKING PRAYER ANSWERED!"
Yanking him towards me, I slam him back into the wall, his head smacking into the stone. My chest heaves, a part of me knowing that this is a bad idea but I don't care. I trusted Cas with everything. I needed him and he's left me time and again. He doesn't get to keep doing it anymore, not after this. There's no excuse after what I endured.
"DO YOU KNOW WHERE I'VE BEEN THE LAST WEEK? DID YOU HEAR ANY OF MY PRAYERS?"
"Aria, please-" the angel tries but I cut him off.
"FUCK YOU, CAS! I NEEDED YOU AND YOU LEFT ME! AGAIN! I WAS ALWAYS THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEEDED SOMEBODY! EVEN IF I DISAGREED WITH YOU, I STILL STOOD BY YOUR DUMBASS! YOU KNOW, WHY? BECAUSE YOU ARE FAMILY!"
Those cerulean eyes drop, hurt swimming in those bright hues. I don't care, though. He abandoned me. Tears slip down my already wet cheeks, the angel's shoulders slumping as my voice breaks,
"Family, Cas. You're my family and you just left me; left Sam and Dean."
I stagger back, the rage slowly ebbing away with the admission. Cas has always been there for us and I always tried to return the favor. After all, me and him were all that stood between the Winchesters and their destiny. But now, despite all that history, all that shared agony, I can't look at him.
I believed in Cas. Even though he did terrible things sometimes, he was still a good angel. His heart was always in the right place. We were all guilty of doing what was wrong for the right reasons. Castiel was my friend, family, but now it's all gone. That loyalty is gone. You don't abandon your family like he did, not after all we've been through.
"Aria, it's not like that."
"What do you want, Castiel?" I question caustically, ignoring his desperate plea to defend himself. Without looking at the angel, I know he's devastated.
"I need your help."
My shoulders slump and all my aches come back tenfold with my rough movements. The adrenaline is gone now and the onslaught of agony takes my breath away. I can't help but brace myself on my knees, struggling to catch my winded breath. Out of my peripheral, I see Cas step towards me. I backpedal immediately, giving the angel a death glare as I growl,
"Don't come near me."
Confusion and hurt paint his features, "I can heal you."
"I said no, Cas. You didn't come when I needed you. I don't want to inconvenience you now."
My words are harsh and I know they cut deep for the angel but he deserves it. I'm tired of lying to myself. The reality is that I don't matter to the angel. He never changed. Castiel is still the heartless bastard I met initially. Because if the angel truly cared, he would have rescued me from Oriax's hell.
"What do you need?" I ask curtly.
"It's difficult to explain," he starts, his voice low and broken.
"Just spit it out."
"My Father has returned and sent me to put you on a mission."
"No."
Cas stares at me in shock, "What do you mean 'no'?"
"No, I won't help you."
"Why?"
"Well, here's for starters. God left Heaven and let the apocalypse start. Now, He's back and wants help? No, He can fix his own problems. I'm done."
"Please, let me explain," Cas pleads desperately.
"What? You trying to tell me you know why millions of people are now dead corpses that want to eat the living? You want to explain to me why if God is back he doesn't just fix this? Or how about the fact that He didn't send a single fucking angel to my aid after everything I sacrificed for you and your kind? Why should I help someone who lets the world burn around them?"
The room is heavy as my questions hang unanswered in the room. I hold that cerulean stare, daring him to give me an answer that is worthy. But the silence is shattered by the flapping of wings and then there is a voice, one that I thought I would only ever hear in my memories,
"She's got a point, Cas."
My heart pounds in my chest, limbs shaking.
It's in your head. They aren't real. You're just hearing things.
But as I look around at my group, I see their stunned faces and know that I'm wrong. Slowly, I turn, my world threatening to go black at the sight before me.
"Hey, Aria," Sam greets, his voice soft and sweet. Dean stands beside him, the two wearing faces of uncertainty and apprehension.
They look exactly the same as they did. Both wear their signature plaid shirts with their worn jeans and work boots. The rough stubble still shadows their sharp jawlines. It's as if nothing ever happened to them like they were here the whole time.
How can this be happening?
The lump in my throat grows, making speech impossible. Tears burn my eyes and it's all too much. I sway on my unsteady feet, staring at the two men who dragged me out of the darkness.
They are angels.
Sam takes a step forward and I take one back. The look on his face rips my heart to shreds and I shake my head, hand over my mouth to stifle the brutal sobs that want to escape.
You prayed. They were angels and they ignored you.
This is worse than Castiel. It's those four months after escaping the demon all over again. All it does is make Oriax's words true and that kills me inside because he was right, I'm all alone.
"Aria, please let us explain."
"Explain what?" I gasp, the tears spilling down my cheeks. "That you were fucking angels and you never once came to help me? What happened to always?"
This isn't real.
I'm hyperventilating, my mind teetering on the edge of a full melt down.
"Nobody cares about you, darling. Not your angel, Castiel, or those Winchesters. You are nothing but extra baggage to them. Useful only when they need you."
"We never left you," Dean tries, those emerald eyes pained as he begs me to listen but I can't. Oriax's voice is screaming in my head and that's all I can hear.
"Bullshit!" I snarl, chest heaving. The agony in my soul is too great to feel the ache of my other injuries.
"It's true, Aria."
"If it's true then where were you? Where were you five days ago? Huh? You say you never left me but I sat in a torture chamber for five fucking days praying for somebody to save me! Nobody ever came!"
"Here again and nobody to come and save you, my dear."
"We tried to help you and we did help in the end," Dean defends and I shake my head because it's all lies. There's a hand on my lower back, avoiding the worse of wire brush's damage. I lean into that touch, needing the support.
"The place was warded against us, Aria. As soon as you jumped over the wall we were there," Cas jumps in.
I spin on the angel, growling with fire in my eyes, "Nobody helped me. I fought my way through those woods half conscious. I alone did that and I remember that."
The helplessness and defeat wash over me, all of it overwhelming in this moment. I almost gave up and died in that field. The only reason I got up was because of Sam and Dean's voices, because I was afraid of disappointing them. And all this time, they were angels who watched on the sidelines and watched me struggle.
Sam's hazel eyes spark in eagerness and he takes another step towards me, "If you remember that then do you remember hearing my voice, Dean's voice pushing you on, guiding you?"
My heart stutters in my chest, eyes growing wide as I stare at the younger Winchester. Those voices are inside my head. Nobody knows about them except me.
"How do you know that?" I question, utterly shocked.
Relief washes over Sam. "It was real, Aria. It was us speaking to you. This whole time, we've been by your side, helping when we could. Don't you see that?"
I'm overwhelmed, no longer sure who I'm supposed to believe. I look to Dean and Cas, seeing the truth in their gazes but how the hell is that even possible? Those voices were in my head. I've heard of angels showing up in your dreams, but never while you were awake. The only exception was Anna but she was an angel. Not even Lucifer or Michael could do that and they were archangels.
"How?"
Sam and Dean share a quick look, but Cas's gravelly voice cuts through the silence, "Because you were chosen."
That hand on my lower back presses more firmly against me and Daryl steps up beside me, southern drawl gruff, "The hell you mean she was chosen?"
"God chose one angel from Heaven and four of the strongest souls on earth to become the new archangels."
Those bright cerulean eyes pierce through me, Cas's words slowly processing through my overburdened mind. It's Rick's uncertain question that has my mind piecing it all together,
"Aria's an angel?"
I want to laugh at the absurdity of this, demand the real reason but Cas is all business, once again that heartless angel that did as he was told. The group's stares bore into me, shocked, unbelieving.
This isn't happening.
"An archangel," Castiel corrects, "God graced her soul so that the day she dies she will be able to use her full ability and guard the earth from evil."
This isn't real. This isn't real.
"You said four souls. If Sam, Dean, and Aria are three of them, who is the fourth?" Rick questions, breaking the heavy silence.
I can't take my eyes off Cas, wondering who else could have been forced to suffer this fate alongside us. His gaze shifts from Rick to right behind me, his gravelly voice as condemning as a judge's gavel,
"Daryl Dixon."
Not a single breath is taken in that split second, all of us shocked by the angel's answer.
"What?!" Daryl, Merle, and I all ask in unison.
Looking up at the hunter beside me, I see the disbelief written all over his face. Those ocean eyes are drowning in a sea of questions. But I can see the fear, the uncertainty of what this title brings and I can't take it. Ever since Daryl came into my life, I've been trying to protect him from my world. Now he's being dragged unwillingly into it.
Not if I have a say.
"No." I limp up to Cas, jabbing my finger in his face. "No."
"I can't change what has already been done," the angel defends. I look into his pure eyes and, without a second thought, punch him as hard as I can. White hot pain shoots through my hand, feeling as though I just shattered every bone on impact. The pain only fuels my rage, though.
"Aria!" Sam calls out, but I won't stop. They don't get to come back and drop this on me and my family. If they want to ruin my life, fine. But I will not let them ruin their lives, especially not Daryl's.
Ignoring my injuries and the Winchesters, I shove Castiel hard. He takes every hit. Even as I back him up against the stone wall, Castiel takes my shoving. Every hit fueled by my betrayal, hurt, and rage. It numbs me, letting me do the damage I want.
Arms wrap around me, yanking me back, and I find my voice again, screaming, "Why do you have to fuck up everyone's lives?"
"It's a blessing," Cas states automatically, watching me with saddened eyes.
"It's a fucking curse! Don't feed me that bullshit!" I bark, not bothering to struggle against the firm hold around my waist.
"Aria, stop!" Dean snaps, finally coming to Cas's defense as he steps into my line of sight. Our green eyes meet and I glare in hate.
"Tell me, Dean, how do you really feel about being pulled into yet another life you didn't want?" I look over to Sam directing the question at him too. Both brothers remain silent, though. "What did you say over and over again, screw destiny? Screw what Heaven planned for us? How can you look at me now and tell me you are okay with this?!"
"Aria, you don't understand. There is a much bigger picture here. I...I can't say that either of us were entirely thrilled but we all knew that our job would never be done," Sam tries reasoning.
"I did! I wanted to die and be with my family, not spending eternity doing God's dirty work!"
Cas steps around Dean, his voice harsh and final as he snaps, "There is no out, this is your duty. You were chosen, Aria. It is your destiny now to guard the gates of Heaven, to protect humanity and you will accept."
You're just a puppet on a string.
My world is crashing down around me. All that I have fought for; free will, the safety of my family, it's all being taken away. I tried so damn hard to protect everyone that I loved from life and now the one person I love most is being forced into this brutal and dangerous world. Cas's words kill the fight in me, my shoulders slumping and tears burning my eyes.
"Easy, Cas," Sam chastises at the bluntness of the angel's words.
"We don't have time for this," Cas persists, all traces of his humanity gone again. It's the cold and calculated statue from all those years ago.
"She's adjusting, damn it!" Dean snaps.
I lean into the person holding me, finally feeling the full impact of my actions. Agony sears up my arms, every breath like breathing in pins and needles. Sam, Dean, and Cas see the instant change in my demeanor. Their expressions soften, apologetic as the tension between the three dies.
Tears spill over, wetting my cheeks and I beg, my last resort to save Daryl from this cruel life. "Fine, fine, I'll do it. Please, just leave Daryl out of it. Leave them all out of this please?"
The angel's hearts break at my pleas, but they don't get a chance to mend what they've done.
"We're done here," Daryl growls with finality and I realize he's the one supporting me. Without another word, the hunter lifts me up into his arms and walks us into the cell block. My sobs are brutal, my pleas relentless as I'm carried away because they can't do this to Daryl, to me. Haven't I given enough?
Daryl climbs the steel steps to our cell. He brushes aside the privacy curtain and lays me down on our bunk. The pain is excruciating, making it hard for me to decide if the tears are all from the crushing defeat or from my injuries. Daryl checks me over, hands as gentle as can be.
"I'm sorry," I whisper shakily, knowing that if I was never involved with him, he wouldn't be in this situation. I'm poison after all.
He grips my chin, meeting my eyes, that southern drawl thick, "Don't. I know exactly what you're thinking and don't. I don't regret one damn day being with you. We'll figure it out."
I nod, knowing that Daryl deserves so much better. The tears come harder, another sob escaping and he lies down beside me, holding me tight while running those calloused hands soothingly through my hair.
This is too much. My mind is walking a thin line between sanity and insanity, teetering with the recent events and new revelations.
You destroy everything you touch.
This time, I believe it.