Hershel is in his element. Before all this, he had obviously spent time in the company of hybrids, because he doesn't look even remotely shocked at them dragging a wolf and calling out for him. He accepts the fact that it's Daryl easy enough, and it's a relief, because at least one person accepts Daryl in this form.

So he pulls out the arrow and stitches Daryl up with practised ease, cleans the wound and watches the unconscious wolf.

"The bullet just grazed him." The vet informed them, "He'll wake up soon."

"You've been around Hybrid before, then?" Glenn asks with a glance towards Daryl, hand ghosting over the wolf's coat, but never making contact. Rick watches the action with a rueful smile, glad that Glenn seems accepting even though Rick isn't sure if it's a good idea to accept him with open arms.

"Yes. My step-son was one."

Glenn nods and looks sympathetic, his hand running through Daryl's fur. The Asian looks almost surprised at his own sudden confidence to touch the wolf, but then looks pleased with himself when Daryl doesn't wake to chew his arm off.

T-Dog sighs. "So what're we gonna do with him? Shane seems pretty intent on putting him down." Shane snorts, looking at the wolf with immense distrust in his eyes and disgust on his face.

"That's not going to happen." Rick says. "It's still Daryl, even if it is a wolf. We've lost too many already, and Daryl isn't going to turn on us." I hope. Rick adds the last part silently, because he's honestly not sure on whether to trust Daryl or not.

"So do we just keep him around like some lapdog? Hope he rolls over and lets us give him belly rubs? Sit when he's told to? That ain't going to happen, Rick, you know that. You wanna keep him around Carl? Around Lori? He could hurt them!" Shane argued, voice rising in frustration. "He ain't safe."

Hershel cleared his throat, lips pressed in a fine line. "Did you not trust Daryl before you knew of his Hybrid status?" He asks, ever being the voice of reason.

All four of them nod - although Shane is a little reluctant - because Daryl had proved himself time and time again to them, an asset.

"So what's changed?"

"Are you blind?" Shane asks, sounding incredulous, gesturing at the wolf. "He's one of them."

"And?" Glenn interrupts. "It doesn't change a thing. It's still Daryl."

'It still Daryl.' It felt like Rick had heard that a thousand times in this one day, and he glances at the wolf and he has to wonder, is it really still Daryl?

"They're dangerous." Shane says, dragging out the words as if he's talking to a five year old who just refused to understand. "You can't tell me that you ain't seen the news, that you ain't seen what they can do."

"That doesn't mean they're all like that." T-Dog says. "The news shows the worst side of everyone, no matter who they are."

Shane sighs loudly, and he's vibrating with frustration and distrust. He turns to Rick, "And you think you trust him?"

Yes. The words catch in his throat, rubbing his throat raw. He tries to choke them out and he can't. He wants to, but he remembers, and he remembers and he remembers.

He knows why Shane doesn't like this, because he knows that Shane remembers too, and he can't blame the man for that.

"I think I could." He says eventually and he hates himself for it, because he wants to trust Daryl, because Daryl trusted him, but everytime he even tries to think about trusting the hybrid, the memories wrap around his mind and tighten like a vice.

"You think? That's not good enough. It's either you do or you don't." Shane tells him, expression hard and thunderous, and for a moment, Rick forgets that he's supposed to be the leader.

"I trust Daryl. I don't know if I can trust this Daryl." He admits, and Hershel's angry but silent, slips out of the room without a word.

"But it's still Daryl." Glenn says quietly. "You've trusted Daryl to watch your back time and time again. There's no difference."

But there is. They all know it because it's staring them in the face. The difference is that he's not fucking human, he's never been human and he lied. He kept his status a secret and it doesn't bode well with Rick, makes that pit of uneasiness bury deeper in his stomach.

"He didn't tell us." Rick argues quietly. "He should've told us."

"He shouldn't have to." T-Dog reasons. "We should've known. Merle was a hybrid, and we should've known from the beginning that Daryl was too."

And he's right and Rick knows Shane hates it, because he hates it too because he hates himself for not checking, for not asking Daryl. It would've been so simple, just to ask. And in a way, it was obvious.

Daryl was different to the others in the group, and they had all just assumed that he'd been raised differently, with different customs and mannerisms because Will Dixon was a shit father and they all knew that as well as they knew that Daryl was a hunter, but it should've stood out to them, should've been clear.

There were times where Daryl would leave the camp, under the pretence of finding fresh meat, but rather than a few hours, he could be out there for days, and he'd always leave the camp tense and frustrated, but he always came back calmer, and the nights when the moon was full was when Daryl seemed to be happiest, and the days of the new moon seemed to put him in a bad mood.

And if they had just looked, they would've realised.

"I think we could learn to grow to accept this." Glenn says. "Daryl is useful as a human, but I bet he's even better as a wolf."

And they all have to agree.

Daryl awakes with a jolt and a snarl, pulling himself away from touching hands despite the pain that creeps up his side and suddenly flares, because what mattered was that somebody was touching him, and he didn't like that.

His eyes snap open, and he sees Carol sitting there with a vaguely shocked expression, hands held up and away from Daryl's fur, and she starts talking soothingly. "Daryl," She says, and her voice is a melody, it's soft and it's nice against his ears, never grating like the other's seemed to do occasionally. "It's okay. Relax and I'll go get Hershel."

Daryl can't help but growl, because he knows he's injured, and if she gets Hershel, Hershel will want to check his wound, will want to touch him and Daryl doesn't want that, isn't sure that he can handle himself if the old man's hands get too friendly, but Carol's up and out of her chair, walking out of the room and paying no heed to him, and it frustrates him.

He twists, nosing at the bandages on his side and growls again, and he wants them off, he wants them off now, but the position he was in didn't quite allow for him to reach it with his paws or teeth, and he knows – he fucking knows – that if he moves, he'll run the risk of passing out from the pain, because the pain hasn't quite dulled down yet, not in the slightest bit. In fact, it was pulsing, sending shocks up his side and he feels wrong.

He feels vulnerable.

And then Hershel is in the room and Carol is standing in the doorway, and he doesn't like that either, doesn't like that she's unknowingly blocking his only chance of escape if he can figure out how to move without feeling like there's a fire burning his side.

"Daryl, I need you to calm down." Hershel says and his voice is soothing too, but it's not like Carol's, it's rough and it doesn't grate on his ears but it chafes and it's enough to annoy him, but he forces himself to stop growling. "Good." Hershel says. "Now, I need to know that you're not going to bite me if I check these bandages."

Daryl stares at him. He doesn't make a sound, doesn't move his head in affirmative or not, so Hershel figures that he might as well try, knows that Daryl won't do any undue harm if it comes down to it.

So slowly, he peels back the bandage and looks at the wound, and with a hint of a smile, he looks up at the wolf, makes eye contact. "Your healing has already kicked in. You'll be back on your feet in no time."

And it's reasons like this that Daryl loves being a Hybrid even if he hates it.

Hershel is nothing if not efficient. He easy cleans the wound and takes care of it, puts new bandages on in record time, and only one does it hurt enough for Daryl to lash out, his mouth grabbing at Hershel's finger, teeth leaving indents, but that incident is forgotten as suddenly as it happens, because Hershel understands.

Daryl might not like Hershel, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't respect him, because the man just understands, because nothing pisses Daryl off more than people pretending to understand. He didn't ask questions, didn't yell at Daryl for not telling him, for not warning him like his pack would.

And then Daryl remembers.

His pack.

They were going to be so mad at him, he knew that. That was, if he still had a pack. It was possible that they had kicked him out because he had breached an unspoken rule of security, but Carol shifts her weight and Daryl is reminded that she's still here. She's not yelling and she's not looking at Daryl like some mangy mutt.

She looks at Daryl like he's Daryl.

He appreciates that.

Hershel leaves soon enough, telling him to stay put for at least another day so his body can deal with the wound, but the vet doesn't have to tell him that, because the accelerated healing didn't take care of the pain, it made it more prominent, and Daryl's not even sure that he wants to move right now.

He wants to talk to Carol, make her understand but he's tired. He's so tired but he's alive, and if Carol was here, the rest of his pack had to be around somewhere nearby.

So he decides to let it go and just sleep.

This chapter is a lot shorter than I hoped, and there was absolutely no action and I apologise immensely for that, but the next chapter will definitely have some action going on.

Guest: Thank you, I'm glad. And no, there are no plans to turn Daryl into an omega. He's an alpha through and through in this story.

TheViscountess: Thanks Jake. Now stop it.

-Aerotes.

x

(Again, you could say that this is edited, but you'd be really wrong.)