A/N: Wow it's been a while since I updated this story, hopefully I'll be more consistent with chapter updates from now on. I'm really enjoying writing a fic in this style and I'll be the first to admit that I adore Logan, she's so much fun! Anyway please let me know what you think, reviews really encourage me to continue with it. Big thanks to all those who read, follow, favourite and review, it means so much! And a huge thank you to my beta Calcifer179 who is the biggest help when it comes to all my fics, but especially this one. Hope you all enjoy it! :)

6.

"No way man! I ain't sitting in that car for another minute with that bitch!" The redneck yelled, making no attempt to hide his words from the said "bitch" who was grinning at them both from her perch on the back of the truck.
"She's yer goddamn daughter Merle! You need to deal with this."
"I don't know her from Adam. Enough is enough!"
Daryl rubbed his eyes tiredly and tried to block out his brother's venting. The situation with Logan and Merle was only growing more and more tense the further they travelled down the highway. Logan was constantly antagonising her long-lost father, whether deliberately or unintentionally the younger Dixon brother was unsure, but it was definitely getting to Merle.
"Land ho!" Logan called out, pointing down the road to what appeared to be a petrol station in the distance. They'd pulled over so that Merle could "use the facilities", and likely snort a small amount of coke he had hidden in the glove box of the truck, much to Daryl's chagrin, while he was at it, and none of them had complained at the opportunity to stretch their legs. The plan was to keep heading towards the mountains, an area the brothers were familiar with from their childhood, but they needed fuel and the food was already running short thanks to the flame-haired teen's ferocious appetite.
"Hope they still have some smokes!" Merle mused aloud, rubbing his stubbled chin.
"Cause nothing is better in the apocalypse than emphysema!" Logan joked with a wink, leaping from the tailgate of the truck and walking to the cab. She had done most of the driving since they had picked up Merle, it made things a lot easier if they had Daryl in between them. Not that the girl seemed bothered in the slightest by the presence of her estranged father, or the way he treated her.
Merle jeered under his breath, shooting her a vicious glare and waiting for Daryl to climb into the cab of the truck, sliding across the bench seat so that Merle could be seated as far away from Logan as possible. The young redhead always drove maniacally; she had obviously been taught how to drive by someone other than her calm and collected mother because she treated the vehicle like she did her weapons, as just another extension of herself that she utilised mercilessly. With her speeding down the highway, Daryl gripping the seat with both hands, they pulled up at the old petrol station within minutes, skidding to a halt.
"Fuck girl, you want every undead son-of-a-bitch on our arses?" Merle grumbled, opening the side door and jumping out quickly.
"Um yeah. Pretty much," Logan said, smiling sweetly and retrieving her newly acquired machete from beneath the seat. It had been a few days since they had gotten the older Dixon brother from the Fontana jail and the young girl had seized every zombie killing opportunity as a way to better herself with her weapon. And even Merle had to reluctantly admit that she knew how to wield it.

Merle stayed at the truck, leaning wearily against the side of it with a look of sheer boredom, his rifle by his side and a hunting knife in his hand, while Daryl and Logan approached the building. Daryl walked with practiced ease, pacing towards the front door as quietly as he would while stalking prey in the woods. Logan practically skipped to the large, glass door, her gait silent, but far quicker than her uncle's and she pulled the door open and bounded inside without so much as a backwards glance. The redneck knew she could handle herself, Hell, over the past week or so he had seen her take down more zombies than seemed possible, but he also knew her recklessness could get her killed. It was as if she saw herself as totally indestructible, her viciousness offsetting her natural disadvantages of being small and physically weak. More than once she had come a hairs breadth away from being taken down by a attacking undead and with that thought and a low hiss he entered the store after her.
It was dimly lit, the only thing illuminating it was the natural light that peeked through the slightly dirty windows. He'd been surprised that the shop hadn't been locked up, although when he stepped inside and saw evidence of looting and a few smashed panes of glass he understood that it was a likely reality that whoever had been working at the time had not even thought to lock the front door.
"Logan! Where are you?" He half whispered into the gloom, stepping over rubbish and various items from the shelves that had been tossed to the ground.
"Hey Dare," she greeted, popping her head out from an aisle up ahead, taking sips from an energy drink clasped in her hand.
"Oh yer the last person who needs caffeine," Daryl grumbled, pulling various packaged foods off the shelves and chucking them into the bag slung over his shoulder.
"There's more than caffeine in this my friend. I'll be buzzing for sure," Logan grinned happily. She still had her hair tied up in two dinky ponytails on the top of her head, which gave her the appearance of a slightly deranged doll. She was wearing his old t-shirt again, the one that hung to her knees, although she had tied it in a side knot so that it sat baggy on her, but tight across her narrow hips. Her leggings were now looking grubby, grass and dirt stains had turned the black to a dull brown and her tall boots were moderately scuffed. She was a tiny sprite of a thing and moved restlessly towards Daryl, still drinking from the can in her hand;
"We should probably check the place out…"
"Ya mean you didn't look for zombies?" The redneck cried, dropping the bag of chips he held in one hand to the ground in surprise.
"Redbull," she motioned, shaking the now half empty can in his face as if it were an explanation, "Hello, priorities?"
"Shit..." Daryl muttered, gripping his crossbow closer to his shoulder and raising himself above the line of shelves that ran down the centre of the room. The building did appear to be clear, although Daryl knew better than to take anything for granted and he carefully paced the inside of the gas station, his niece tracing his steps with nonchalant indifference.
The interior seemed free of zombies, but the hunter eyed the door at the back of the building coolly, unsure of whether it was worth going through to what was presumably the store room.
"Could be bulk packs of water and shit in there man…" Logan stated, as if reading his thoughts. Daryl grunted and raising his crossbow in one hand, turned the doorhandle quietly. The door creaked open with little resistance, opening up into a dirty and mostly empty back room. Boxes littered the floor and wall mounted shelves and a few fridges lined the back wall, spaced evenly next to another door which had the word 'Exit' marked above it in what at once been a neon sign.
Daryl ignored the everything else bar the young Asian man who was standing in the centre of the room with his hands raised in a gesture of peace.
"Don't shoot!" He cried out, his voice slightly strangled in fear as his eyes soaked in the view of the younger Dixon and the redhead standing in the doorway.
For a moment the only sound was Logan taking the last sip of her energy drink and dropping the crumpled can to the ground while Daryl kept his crossbow pointed at the boy who was starting to break a sweat in panic.
"Please, don't shoot," he repeated, lowering the small knife he had been holding aloft and laying it on the ground next to him, "I'm just here getting supplies, same as you."
"You alone?" Daryl hissed, dropping his weapon only a fraction.
"Yeah, yeah I am. I have a group, we're set up nearby, but it's just me here by myself…"
"Oh way to spill your guts Jet Li!" Logan laughed, "We could be anyone. We could be rapists! Or cannibals! We're probably cannibals…"
"How'd you get here?" Daryl asked, rolling his eyes at his niece.
"I've got a car, parked round back," the boy gulped. Daryl thought he couldn't be older than twenty-four and he wore a baseball cap pulled firmly over smooth black hair. He appeared to be genuine, and with slight reluctance the redneck yanked his crossbow down, causing the Asian man to noticeably relax.
"You best not be lying," Daryl growled in warning.
"Why would I lie? Saw you have another man outside with your truck too, I'm not that stupid."
"Anything worth taking back here?" Logan asked, eyes darting around the gloomy room. She didn't appear bothered in the slightest by their discovery of another survivor, the first they had seen since their run in with Scout and Noah.
The young man shrugged slightly and gestured to his discarded back pack by his feet;
"I took most of what was worth grabbing, but there are some more bottles and stuff if you want…You're, uh, welcome to come back to my group with me. We're always looking for more people. Safety in numbers and all that." He rubbed his face awkwardly and watched while Logan dove for a nearby box, shoving a few Redbulls into her small bag.
Daryl considered the offer and appraised the boy further. Safety in numbers was right. But whether his family would be able to be part of a group was another question.
"What's yer name kid?" Daryl asked, eyeing some cartons of cigarettes with interest before piling as many as he could fit into his own pack. Hopefully they, along with Merle's stash he had been keeping hidden on the motorbike would keep his brother happy.
"Glenn Rhee," he replied shortly, "You?"
"Daryl Dixon," came the grumbled answer as the hunter shifted his crossbow over his back and added some bottles of water to the now heavy bag, "And this is Logan Lehane." The girl grinned at Glenn, stuffing a chocolate bar whole into her mouth.
"My brother, Merle, is the one out by the truck. We'll follow you, come see this group for ourselves. Any funny business and we'll do what we need to do." The young man nodded in acknowledgment of Daryl's threat.
"It's a good group, women and children there too. We're protected up at the quarry, got weapons…"
"Good, hope you guys know how to use them." Logan's grin widened and she brandished her machete menacingly.
"Back down Loges, we ain't got time for yer shit. Now out you go Chinaman, we'll follow you." Glenn gulped and nodded, retrieving his knife and bag as they headed out the front of the petrol station. A heavy onslaught of loud rock music flooded over them as they exited the building and Daryl groaned loudly. Merle had been leaning into the truck to fiddle with the knobs of the old radio, turning the song up full, a small tank of petrol resting by his booted feet.
"What the fuck Merle, turn that shit down!" The younger Dixon yelled, rushing for the truck.
"What?" Merle countered, cupping his hand around his ear, "Gotta speak up Daryl!"
"You had a go at Logan for drawing attention to us and now yer going to get us killed!" He silenced the radio with the twist of a button and they all stood in the silence, each listening intently for any sign of danger. And it came. A low chorus of rumbling growls that appeared from every direction as every zombie in the surrounding area encroached on the gas station.
"Shit," Glenn exclaimed, dropping his bag near the pumps and fingering his knife, "Look what you did?"
"Who the fuck are you kid?" Merle leered, stepping menacingly towards the boy, "Hey Daryl! Who is this chink?"
"No time for that Merle, we have to get out of here," his brother retorted, throwing his pack into the back of the truck and checking to make sure his crossbow was loaded.
"No time for that either man," Logan cried, gesturing to a group of zombies that were almost upon them, barely feet away on the road. Several more had appeared from behind the gas station and were presuming a slow, steady shuffle in the direction of the survivors.
"How many?"
"Doesn't look like much, maybe two each. Can you fight Short Round?" Merle asked, once more rounding on Glenn, who was looking slightly squeamish, but nodded mutely.
"Grab yer rifle Merle and stay by the truck. Logan…Shit where's Logan?" Daryl span almost comically in a full circle before spotting the girl egging two zombies on and leading them back into the building behind the group.
"Forget her man; she can handle 'em! We need to kill these sons-of-bitches!" As if to emphasise his point, Merle gripped his hunting knife and ran in the direction of one of the zombies that was now upon them, driving his weapon hard and fast into its skull. Glenn had turned a funny shade of grey, but seemed to be managing to hold off an infected by himself, hitting it continuously with his elbow until it dropped heavily. Daryl felt a swell of grudging respect for the young man as he plunged his knife into the assailant's temple, causing it to spit black blood all over the concrete beside it.
As he felled a zombie with a well-placed arrow his thoughts returned to Logan and he seized a quiet moment when no undead blocked his path to race towards the store front. He heard the sound of a shelf toppling, the loud clanking of cans on stone floor and a small yell from his niece before he made it to the door. The shelves had fallen during a scuffle between the girl and a zombie, but it's body and the storage unit now blocked the entrance way to the building and Daryl knew he wouldn't get inside before Logan was taken down by another attacker that was slowly backing her towards the store counter. He peered over the shelving unit and called out his niece's name, hoping to distract the still fumbling zombie's attention. Logan stared at him with wide eyes, and glanced towards her machete which he now noticed lay beyond the shelf and in the centre of the store, out of his reach and behind the undead creature that was now dangerously close to the unharmed girl. She clutched her shoulder tightly with one hand, alerting Daryl to what he assumed was some sort of wound and he only prayed it wasn't a bite, but his eyes were pulled away from her when he was forced to draw his knife and relentlessly stab a zombie that had suddenly growled behind him. Its fetid breath seemed to stain his clothes when it lunged for him, but despite his surprise the hunter was faster than the walking corpse and it only took one quick movement for him to send the zombie sprawling to the ground.
"Come here you ugly bitch!" Logan cried, and Daryl watched, unable to help the girl as she ducked beneath the counter, urging the zombie to follow her. All its thought processes seemed to focus around its insatiable hunger and it flopped to its hands and knees, half crawling and half dragging itself under the bar of the counter. With a war like cry and a strength Daryl hadn't known she possessed the redhead pushed the store's old fashioned cash register off the bench top and it slammed down on the head of the snapping zombie, just as it wrapped a hand around her bony ankle. The cash register emitted a "ker-ching" as it connected with the creature skull and the zombie's body twitched for a moment before its moans cut out, it's entire top half hidden under the metal register. With a groan Logan bent down to pry the dead fingers off her ankle and returned to grasping her shoulder, which Daryl was thankful to see wasn't bleeding. Behind him he heard Merle give out a whoop of delight, as the final sounds of the zombies trailed off. Without speaking Logan stepped over the body in front of her, ducking under the counter again and shuffled over to her machete, gingerly picking it up with her good arm.
"You'll have to go round the back, get out through that exit. I would have come to help you that way, but pretty sure the door only opens from the inside," Daryl spoke, hoping his words were sufficient explanation and apology.
"I handled it," Logan muttered, but her voice sounded sharp and almost fearful as she turned around, heading for the store room.
"We're all good here little brother. Chinaman wasn't half bad with that pokey knife of his…" Daryl faced his brother who was wiping a bead of sweat from his red face and watched as the young Asian man approached them, crossing his arms over his thin chest;
"My name's Glenn and I'm Korean," he mumbled, not quite meeting the eyes of the rednecks.
"Whatever," Merle shrugged, clearly buzzing from his kills, "Where's the girl?"
"Heading out the back, this door got blocked off…"
As if on cue Logan's fluffy red head poked around the side of the building and she eyed the gathered men cautiously before grinning, a smile which didn't meet her eyes.
She ambled towards the truck, stowing her machete underneath the seat and hopped in after it, drumming the steering wheel with one hand.
"She okay?" Glenn asked, showing a surprising amount of concern for the young girl.
"Hurt her shoulder I think, when she pulled down on one of those zombies…"
"Walkers."
"What?" Daryl asked, idly readjusting his crossbow and wiping the gore from his knife on the shirt of one of the nearby bodies.
"We call them Walkers, the group I'm in. Zombies sounds so…unreal."
"Well this is real," Merle spat, turning on the ball of his foot and stomping in the direction of his daughter and the truck.
"We'll come and check out this group of yers I think, might be safer there," Daryl murmured, shooting Glenn a quick glance and watching the smaller man gulp in nervousness before nodding slowly. Logan had had a damn close call and the hunter knew that she really was badly hurt, she needed time to heal up, and they needed to stay safe.
He offered to drive the truck, take over for Logan who refused to mention the pain in her shoulder and arm and glared at him when he questioned her ability to drive;
"I'm fine dude, it's just a sprain. Best to keep it moving, loosen it up."
Daryl wasn't totally sure if that was in fact advisable, but something in her tone told him it was best not to argue and so he slid into the middle, Merle taking his usual seat next to his brother after he had stowed the gas can in the truck bed.
They tailed the car, Logan driving unexpectedly cautiously and favouring her right arm, for what felt like about twenty minutes before they turned onto a dirt road that appeared to be leading them straight into the hills. Daryl and Merle sat in silence throughout the entire drive, the older Dixon smoking with his elbow balanced on the open truck window. Every now and then the quiet was punctuated by Logan commentating her own driving under her breath as if she were in a slow race, her voice barely a whisper above the dull roar of the engine.
Soon a campsite loomed into view, a white RV standing proud at the forefront, surrounded by assorted tents, cars and gathered people. Glenn had pulled the Toyota to a stop, leaving a wide berth for Daryl's truck and was busy talking to several individuals, gesturing his hands wildly to emphasise whatever he was discussing with them. Most of the people stopped what they were doing to watch as the truck rolled in, Logan pulling in to a stop abruptly just beyond the edge of a few tents.
Before Daryl could reconsider whether meeting this group was truly a good plan, the young redhead had hopped out of the vehicle, clutching her machete in her right hand and pulling her left shoulder back so it sat more comfortably. He sighed exasperatedly and shot Merle what he hoped was a warning look, before following his brother out of the truck.
"Well hello," came a greeting, voiced by a broad shouldered man with curly dark hair and a look of fleeting worry in his eyes, "I'm Shane. Welcome to camp, it's good to see other survivors."
Merle sneered at the offered hand and eyeballed the people gathered, noting it was a group of about fifteen, all of various ages, genders and ethnicities.
Further introductions were hastily made, although the group quickly caught on to the fact that the brothers weren't ones for pleasant conversation.
"Who's in charge here?" Merle asked, after names had been exchanged, "Would that be you?" He rounded on Shane, appraising him.
Shane puffed out his chest in a typical macho stance;
"In a manner of speaking. We all work together here." The older redneck snorted derisively and busied himself in lighting another cigarette, only partially avoiding blowing smoke all over the other man.
"You're more than welcome to stay with us, as long as you want," the white haired man named Dale announced, raising an eyebrow towards Shane, "You can camp here if you want or…"
"We'll figure something out," Daryl drawled, "Ain't about to start sitting around the campfire and seeing 'Kumbaya' with y'all." Logan tittered merrily in the background and stared at the groups younger members as if sizing them up.
"Can you do any hunting with that crossbow of yours?" Shane asked, pointing at the weapon hanging off Daryl's shoulder.
"'Course, it ain't decorative."
"We'd really appreciate it, if you end up staying. Fresh meat would do everyone some good; only so far canned vegetables can get us." A few of those gathered nodded in earnest, clearly excited at the idea of more food.
"We'll see…maybe if we're staying."
Shane nodded and turned his attention back to the tall brunette woman and small boy who were standing over by the RV, watching the entire exchange with questioning stares.
"Staying wouldn't be such a bad idea little brother," Merle uttered when the other group members had returned to their duties, "Seems safe here. Plus there is the potential for 'fulfilling our needs'"
"What the fuck are you getting at?"
"Looks like they're well set up here, if everything goes to plan we can rob 'em blind and hightail it out of here. Hit the road and head for the woods like we planned. Can get supplies from them all without having to lift a finger. They've got, what? A handful of men, looks like mostly women and kids. They wouldn't even know what hit them." Daryl considered his brother's words, inspecting the group set up more closely. He had no desire to hurt, or even rob anyone, but they'd be better off on their own in the long run. This would just be temporary. He nodded once and called out to Shane;
"We're going to set up our tents now, over there by the woods. I'll go hunting tomorrow if ya want."
The man seemed surprised by the rednecks offer, but didn't question it and merely sent a small smile his way, before entering into deep conversation with the Asian boy about what food he had managed to collect.
Logan was showing little interest in the campsite or the residents, but did quirk an eyebrow in Daryl's direction when he had declared their intentions to set up camp. He remembered how she had described herself as not 'playing well with others' on their first day together and he felt a twinge of worry at what her interactions with the group might lead to. Merle was an arsehole, plain and simple, but no doubt these people could handle one arsehole. Would they be able to deal with a psychotic teenager too?

Logan had claimed the smaller tent for herself, and set it up with no comment except the odd wince when she used her left hand, simply throwing her bedding and belongings, bar the machete, into the tent door and sitting down gracefully on a fallen log. She seemed almost overwhelmed by the presence of so many strangers and Daryl wondered for a moment if maybe she was battling with an introverted side of herself. That was until two blondes approached them, looking very 'All American Girl' with bright eyes and glowing fair skin.
"Hi there!" The younger of the duo ventured, flashing perfectly white teeth, "I'm Amy and this is my sister Andrea." The other blonde, who looked to be in her early thirties smiled at the Dixons and Logan with slightly forced enthusiasm. Merle, who had pulled the truck closer to their chosen camping area and adamantly refused to assist Daryl in setting up the larger tent, leered at her seedily, taken his time in looking her body over.
"We were wondering," Andrea started, ignoring Merle's obvious appreciation for her figure and turning to address the teenage girl, "If you wanted to come down to the quarry with us to wash your clothes."
Logan grinned widely and let out a small laugh;
"Sorry Vanilla, I'd really love to, but I don't want to."
Both sisters eyes widened in surprise and Daryl saw Andrea bristle at the young girls chosen nickname for her.
"I know it's a bit anti-feminist, but we try to distribute the labour around here…"
"Well oki doki then, you both just run along and do that," Merle suddenly interjected, "Although you can stay if you want Sugar Tits." He winked at Andrea who glared disgustedly at him before dragging Amy away back to the main camp.
"You two make quite an impression," Daryl scowled, finishing with the tent and wiping his hands on his jeans, "Ya know yer gonna have to help out around here Logan, now let me have a look at that shoulder."
"If you've got some zombies that need slaying man you send them my way. Vanilla and White Lighting over there can keep all the pantie washing to themselves," the girl smiled, reluctantly pulling up the sleeve of her t-shirt to reveal the bruised and swollen looking shoulder bone and allowing Daryl to prod it gently, declaring it badly sprained. Merle chuckled despite himself and flicked his cigarette butt jokingly at the girl who was kicking the dirt in front of her lazily, clenching her teeth as her uncle located the first aid kit in his tent and set about strapping her shoulder. He motioned for Merle to turn around while he asked Logan to lift her shirt and helped her pry the injured arm out of her sleeve. Daryl was shocked, but almost glad at seeing his brother hesitate in taking his eye off the injured girl, a flash of concern flickering in his blue gaze before he huffed and headed for their shared tent. It was nice to see him warm up to Logan, although Daryl suspected it was only because he knew they'd have to stick together now that they were a part of a larger group. Dixons didn't do much, but they definitely looked out for one another.