Later that day the group had disputed about what needed to be done with Randall. It was decided that everyone would be given the afternoon to think before deciding on a choice for a vote. Randall lives or he dies. That was it. Dale made many attempts to persuade everyone not to kill the boy. When Daryl was approached by him there was a lot of off topic things discussed, such as his importance to the group and Rick and Shane. A lot of things that made Daryl question his role in the group. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made him realize just how attached he had grown to these people. Which he would never willingly admit. At least not easily.

That night the decision to kill the boy came and it was Shane and Daryl that went out with Rick to see that it got done. Which it would have, if Carl had stayed in the damn house! Daryl kicked himself in the teeth for this occurence, for if Daryl Dixon had told the boy to stay in the house, the boy would have stayed in the mother fucking house! However, since the Lori Prodigy in-the-making was there, Rick suddenly changed his mind, which greatly annoyed Daryl more than he would blatantly say. He quickly grabbed ahold of the back of Randall's shirt collar and drug him out of the barn to begin to take him back to the shed.

While being completely alone in the confines of the shed, Daryl's hand wrapped firmly around the handle of his hunting knife as he eyed the boy down. His eyes bore down on him like a Hunter about to take down a deer. He had barely even had time to get started on his task of doing everyone a favor by killing this boy, when Dale's shrill screams filled the air. In an instant Daryl barged out of the shed and was rushing towards the direction of the sound. He was the first to the scene.

Daryl saw the walker tearing the old man apart and instantly knocked it off of him before silently taking care of it with his hunting knife. He quickly rolled off of the undead corpse and knelt himself beside Dale, his eyes wide as he saw the damage that had been done in such a short amount of time. He quickly jumped to his feet and shouted. "OVER HERE! HELP!" His voice carrying loudly across the open fields to where the other survivors could hear and be able to easily pinpoint them. He knelt beside the old man, his voice softening as he lied, "You're gonna alright! Hang in there, brother."

Through time, Nora seemed to shy away from Daryl. Though she did not avoid him, she made no effort to see him. Some distance seemed to be a necessity after such a brush as that. She had resorted back to her shell and closed off the world with a cold shoulder and an absentminded wave, if anybody was lucky.

Nora had closed herself off from the group a bit more when Dale had attempted to persuade her to stand for the boy.

"I'm not playin' part in yer little rescue mission, Dale. Y'know dat." Nora chided him, knowing damn well what he was going to ask before the words even left his mouth. "I'm sorry. As much as I'd like ta, I can't."

"We're talking about a boy's life." He reminded her. Nora whipped to face him.

"We're talking about a young man wit' a conscious mind, knowingly participating in criminal activities. He raped, pillaged, plundered and pilfered. He was gonna bring his crew here to have some fun. He deserves a good hangin'." She retorted, her tone cold and cruel.

"How do you know?!" He pleaded desperately.

"Dale... yah can't be that naive to th'ways o'dis world." She made a sympathetic face and shrugged. "Look around you. Look at the paradise we got here. We got a good t'ing goin'. People on the outside will want a piece. Grass is always greener, dat sorta shit."

She immediately regretted her cruelty as her heart clenched. The shrill scream of pain and terror that ripped through the air made the blonde hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She bolted from the barn and rushed to the sound, following close behind Daryl.

"OY! OVER 'ERE!" Nora shouted to the group as she waved her arms frantically. "HELP!" But it was too late. The moment she laid eyes on Dale's mangled corpse and panic-stricken eyes, she knew... he was a goner. "Dale... Daryl, we can't..." She muttered as she knelt down on the other side of the old man, glancing back now and again to see the group rushing to the scene. "We're too late."

Daryl's gaze met with Nora's as she spoke the words he already knew himself. The truth was that Dale was a dead man. He averted his eyes from her to look at the oncoming group as they rushed over. Rick was quick to shout for Hershel, demanding that the veternarian get out there and try to save the old man. But everyone knew that that was not possible. The man could not perform miracles.

The group struggled. Tears and fear welled in their eyes as they held each other and turned their faces from the horrific sight. Rick's hand moved to his pistol as he slowly removed it from its holster, his eyes bearing a pain that no one could even begin to imagine comparing to. Daryl glanced over at their leader and he knew all too well that, even Rick couly only handle so much. The weight on his shoulders was crushing him and if he did this it would only add to the burden he carried. In silence, Daryl slowly extended his hand, his fingers moving to curl around the upper portion of the gun, as his eyes met with Rick's. The two stared at one another in a mutual understanding, before Rick willingly stepped back and allowed the Redneck to take his gun from him.

Daryl swallowed, his face blank as he lowered himself to his knee, being sure to be as respectful and delicate as well as the situation allowed him. His eyes traveled to rest upon Dale's face, his expression turning to a sorrowful one as he cocked the gun and aimed it at his head. His voice was soft as he spoke, "Sorry, brother." BANG.