setting: between episode 2 "Sick" and episode 4 "Killer Within"

Damnation

Chapter 16 - Arrival

eight weeks after the farm incident...

"Where the hell have you been?" Daryl snapped as he watched Connor come up the stairs.
His friend was carrying their scouting bag, and the hunter widened his eyes even more when he saw that the Irishman had company.

"What the fuck, where did yah get this thing from?!" he exclaimed and pointed at the animal that followed the Irishman.

It was a black and white Shetland sheepdog that followed the blonde wherever he went.

"It's not a thing, it's a fucking dog. Found 'im on my way inta town" Connor muttered as he entered the upstairs level and make his way past Daryl. He entered the room they used as their hideout for the winter and put the bag down, and when the dog wouldn't stop nudging his leg he turned around and started petting him with a smirk. The hunter had followed them inside the room and was eyeing the two of them with an angry frown, and when the dog started barking he got even angrier.

"You ain't keeping him, he's too goddamn noisy!"

"The fuck 'm gonna do! He was all alone out there, look how fuckin happy he is!" Connor said and pointed at the dog's wriggling tail.

He stroke the dog and got something what looked like dog treats out of his pocket.

"Shush, Hannibal. We don't want them ta hear us now, do we? Aye, there's a good boy!"

Daryl raised an eyebrow and frowned even more as he watched his friend play with the dog.

"Hannibal?"

Connor nodded with a grin and patted the dog's back.

"Aye. He reminds me of our sheepdog we had back in Ireland. Just te same good boy as you are, yes you are" he said to the dog and grinned even more.

Daryl just stood there and watched without saying anything. He hated how Connor still wouldn't stop talking about the past. How this was supposed to be doing him any good was beyond him. He tried to make his way to their bag to see what Connor had brought with him.

"Seriously, I don't think this is a good idea, how are we supposed to feed him? We're almost starving ourselves, yah dumbass."

The Irishman suddenly grabbed the bag to keep his friend from opening it.

"He was all alone out there and kept following me, what te fuck was I sapposed ta do? I brought some dog food from te store at the town center with me. Don't worry. He's gonna do us good. Fellas like this one are eager ta help ye with the hunt. You can't imagine how much our dog helped me and Murph back at te farm."

Daryl got angry because his friend wouldn't shut up about Ireland, but he was even angrier at Connor because he had gone on his own.

"You went to the town center? Are yah fuckin stupid, it's too damn dangerous out there yah moron! There's walkers everywhere!"

"Oh fuck you, what are they gonna do? Bite me?! They don't attack me. Get over it."

The Irishman sat down next to the dog who obviously enjoyed all the attention he suddenly got from people. For just a moment Daryl watched the two of them and the dog looked back at him with his big blue eyes. The hunter had always wanted another dog himself, he gave his friend that, but he seriously couldn't understand how Connor thought they could actually take care of the animal. They had hardly any food, winter was coming, and they couldn't risk his barking all the time. They needed to be quiet to make this place work, why wouldn't his friend get that?

"I found us some more supplies. Bitta food and water and bandages and shit" Connor muttered after a moment.

"Yeah, not to mention the fucking dog" Daryl growled and turned around to head for the door.

"I'm gonna check the doors and windows before we crash for the night. And get that thing to shut up, will yah."

Connor was sitting on the old and dusty couch whereas Daryl was sitting on the carpeted floor. The hunter was cleaning his crossbow and kept looking at the dog every once in a while, because the animal wouldn't stop staring at him. He was sitting right in front of him, tail wriggling and heckling all the way through. It seemed like he was especially interested in Daryl's red rag which he used to clean his weapon, and although the hunter tried his hardest to fight it – he actually thought that the little bastard was cute. He looked up to see how his friend was doing. Connor was reading that old paper again like it was some sort of stupid ritual. He sure as hell knew every headline by now, every sentence, every dot, but somehow the Irishman kept reading it over and over again.

"Today's Christmas" the blonde said about ten minutes later and Daryl looked up again.

"What?"

Connor nodded and turned the page without looking at his friend.

"Aye.'ve been keeping track of time. Kinda. Today's Christmas Eve."

Daryl snorted and started sorting his arrows.

"So?"

Connor shrugged and searched the pockets of his jeans to get out his cigarette pack.

"Nothin. 's just why I went inta town. I spent some time inside the church. 's where I found this little fella" he said and pointed at the dog.

Daryl shook his head.

"Christmas don't mean nothing these days. Stuff like that'll get yah killed. Don't do that shit again."

Connor looked up with an annoyed frown.

"We can't just ferget traditions like that just cos the world's gone ta shit. People've been celebrating the birth of Christ fer hundreds and hundreds of years now, Christmas is a celebration of life and joy and obedience and family and positivity itself. It would be a disgrace and fucking disrespectful nat ta keep doing it. "

Daryl looked up with an angry snort.

"What is there to celebrate if there ain't any people left and we're starvin? There's dead people walking all around us, we're gonna get ourselves killed if we don't adjust to this situation, and it ain't like no stupid prayer or any of that shit's gonna make the whole thing any better. What are yah gonna do next, walk back into town and drag a fucking tree with you? And greet santa while yer at it? Grow up, gotta focus on survival. 's all that matters now."

"Oh fuck you" Connor said and got up all of a sudden. When he headed for the door both Daryl and the dog watched him leave.

"Hey, where yah going?"

"I'm having a fucking smoke outside" the Irishman growled and left the room.

Both the dog and the hunter kept looking at the hallway, then the animal started whimpering and turned his head to look at Daryl.
The hunter looked back at him with an annoyed frown and shook his head.

"What? Don't look at me like that" he growled and the dog started liking his nose and rested his head on his paws. He wouldn't stop whimpering.

"Someone's gotta say it!" Daryl tried to reason with the animal, and then got up with a huff. The dog got up as well and finally ran after Connor.

The hunter headed for one of the windows and tried to have a look outside. He could see Connor down there, and he was walking around the driveway with a smoke in his hand. The Irishman turned around when he heard some barking. He knelt down with a slight smirk to greet the dog that had followed him downstairs, and Daryl had enough. He stepped away from the window with a growl and turned around to let his gaze wander around the room. He frowned when he noticed the having scouting back again. It looked like it was packed with stuff, and he wondered why Connor had not shown him all his findings yet.

The hunter looked out of the window once more to make sure that his friend was still busy with his dog, then he walked over to the couch to get the bag. It was heavy. Daryl opened the straps and had quite some trouble with the bag, but after some fiddling about he finally managed to open it. He frowned even more when a large green tube-like thing fell into his hands. It was wrapped in a colorful thing that looked like a blanket or something like that. He got rid of it and took a closer look at the strange tube thing. It was large and green and there was a rope tied around it like this was supposed to be holding it, and when Daryl noticed the camouflage duct tape that closed the one end of the tube he finally got what it was supposed to be. A quiver. Daryl turned his head to look out of the window again. The color, the stupid rope and the general self-made feel of it all told him everything he needed to know. Connor had made this thing himself. He inspected the object one more and then shook his head with a gentle snort.

"Moron."

"..fuckin walkers all over the place again.." he heard Connor mutter about five minutes later and turned around in surprise.

He had not heard his friend, who had come back upstairs and was now standing in the doorway with the smoking cigarette still in his hand.

"Hey, what te fuck" the Irishman complained and pointed at the open bag.

"The hell's this?" Daryl muttered and showed his friend the tube. Connor approached him with an angry frown and tried to take it away.

"Nothing. Ye weren't sapposed ta fuckin see it yet."

The younger of the two kept it out of the blonde's reach and looked at it again.

"'s a fucking quiver that is. Now give it back. It was sapposed ta be a christmas present. . But how are ye supposed ta know, being all anti- and never-ever-Christmas" Connor growled and headed for the window to open it so the cigarette smoke could get out.

Daryl eyed the object and frowned.

"I never got any presents before" he muttered and turned the quiver around once more.

"Yeah that's what I figured when I heard yer fucking attitude all te time. Came across this Robin Hood Fan Merchandising Store, figured that you need one of those. "

Connor smirked after a moment and turned around so he could lean against the window sill. He folded his arms and watched how his friend put some of his arrows in it.

"Just shitting ye. I did it myself when I found this tube at this building site close to te church."

The hunter tested the quiver's stability and nodded with a silent "huh", then he frowned and looked at his friend.

"Green, though? Yah trying to turn me into a leprechaun now?"

Connor chuckled.

"Shut it. Ye don't get ta complain. Ye can always put it on ebay."

"Ha. Ha." Daryl countered and looked at his present again.

He still didn't really know what to say.

"So what now. Do ye like it? You can always give me yer crossbow and that thing if you don't want it."

The hunter snorted.

"Yah wish. It's okay I guess."

His friend snorted as well and looked away again.

"Wow. Aren't ye the grateful and cheery one."

"Shut up."

He eyed his present a bit longer and Connor came closer to pick the colorful blanket up.

"What do ye think about this one then?"

Daryl looked up and frowned.

"What's that?"

"It's a fucking poncho" Connor explained and then put it on. He posed with a massive grin on his face.

"Like Clint Eastwood. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Like in those Spaghetti Westerns. Yer gonna look like a fucking badass with that and yer crossbow.
Figured ye'd need this fer the winter, considering how yer always freezing yer ass off."

Daryl couldn't fight the smirk that broke through. He huffed and got back on his feet.

"I ain't gonna wear that shit."

"Yes you fucking are" Connor countered and got rid of the poncho again.

He then knelt down when he noticed that the dog was nudging his legs again and started stroking his head.

"Or maybe 'm just gonna give it ta you, aye? We don't need that ungrateful fucker, do we? No we don't..."

Daryl put the quiver down and just watched his friend and the dog for a moment. He searched his
his jeans awkwardly and scratched his nose.

"I got nothing" he muttered and felt guilty.

Connor waved him off and got back on his feet so he could prepare his sleeping back for the night.

""Don't matter. I don't need anything. I appreciate the fact that ye got this ugly face" he said and turned his back on Daryl.

"Besides, I already got my present. 'm gonna keep te fucking dog."

now...

Once they were inside they had to realize that the mansion really wasn't so untouched at all. Just like many of the other houses they had come across during the past year the furniture inside the house had been thrown over and searched. Looters had taken anything with them that had been somewhat helpful, or back at the beginning when things like this had still mattered, valuable. The heavy mahogany table that had once stood in the entrance hall had been knocked over, a vase that had once been placed on top of it had fallen to pieces on the expensive parquet. Wooden stairs led right up to the second level, and when Connor turned his head he could see an old and beautiful wall clock standing there in the corner. It had stopped working some day at nine past eight. Both men scanned the entrance hall. Daryl nodded and so did Connor after a moment. He started walking and looked at the chandelier on the ceiling.

"Well then, sure looks bit more inviting than our shabby ol' prison, don't ye think?" he asked and smirked at Daryl.

The hunter snorted and started walking.

"Give me stone walls, guard towers and fences any day" he answered, raised his crossbow and headed for the room to their right.

Connor sighed and eyed the entrance hall for a little bit longer. He had never been inside such a nice mansion before, and it was a nice change for now. He was getting really tired of all the blood and greyness of it all. The walls around him were painted in a colorful yellow, and although some of the furniture had been knocked over the place still looked beautiful.

"Hurry up.."

"..we ain't got all day, dumbass" Connor finished the sentence in perfect unison with his friend. He was used to Daryl's grumpy commands, so he didn't even waste a second on actually replying something. He headed for the room on the other side of the entrance hall, which had obviously once been the common room. The seat upholstery of the couch and armchairs had been sliced and ripped apart, and several bottles and cans were lying on the ground. The Irishman could see that cigarette butts were lying all over the place, and there was a massive burn hole in the carpet in front of the fireplace. Connor startled when Daryl entered the room and spoke up.

"Found anything?" the hunter asked and the Irishman shook his head. He pointed at the broken couch on the other side of the room and grinned.

"Found a comfy couch though. Now ye can draw me like one of yer french girls" he said and waggled his eyebrows at his friend.

Daryl rolled his eyes and left the room again.

"Come on now, we still got a shitload of other rooms t'search and it's getting dark."

The complex consisted of a two-story main building, which was located at the center of the property. Two wings were attached to the mansion, and after searching the rooms of the main house both men came to the conclusion that they would be way faster if each of them took one wing on their own. Much to their surprise neither Connor nor Daryl had found anything useful yet, including crutches. Whenever they looked out of the windows they could see that the sun was setting by now. Connor was searching the north wing, which was pretty much the recreational center. He found the dining hall, hair dresser and spa, but just like anywhere else anything useful had been taken already. When he looked outside the window of the dinning hall, which was facing the backside of the complex, he could see a park and the parking lot, which seemed to be the solution to the strange lack of bodies. He could see a smoking pile of bodies somewhere at the very end of the parking lot, and a track of dried blood indicated that they had been dragged out through the backdoor that connected the dinning hall with the park. The Irishman shook his head. "Hallelujah" he murmured and decided to head back to the entrance hall.

Daryl had picked the wing with the staff rooms and kitchen, but apart from rotten food and obvious signs of looting and people who had used the complex as temporary hideout there was absolutely nothing there. He was on his way back to the entrance hall and already wanted to call it a day, then he saw some old crutches lying on the ground by a door he had missed the first time. The hunter knelt down and took them with a relieved sigh. Now he finally had the excuse he needed to get the stupid leprechaun's ass back to camp, and if Connor still didn't want to head back then he would have a nice thing to hit his friend at least. He threw his crossbow over his shoulder so he could take the crutches and head back. The hunter walked around the corner to enter the entrance hall and nearly dropped everything. Five men were standing in front of him, the entrance door wide open behind them. They looked just as surprised, and in a matter of seconds the strangers pulled their guns. Daryl didn't have any time to take his crossbow, so he grabbed his hunting knife and gave them a death glare, being well aware of the two men that closed in on him and slowly positioned themselves behind him. The hunter eyed them and turned his head every couple of seconds so he could look at all of them. One of them, a man in his mid-thirties with shoulder long blonde hair and a bandana, stepped forward and eyed Daryl head to toe, chewing on something that looked like a tooth-pick. The man suddenly grinned in a way that suggested that he wasn't one of the good guys.

"Nice blanket" he said and pointed at the hunter's poncho.

The other men around Daryl started laughing. The hunter narrowed his eyes and glared at them. Each member of the gang was wearing the same sort of leather jacket. Some of them had tattoos all over their chests, arms and necks. They all were even dirtier than Daryl, with missing or black teeth and a terrible scent. The man with the longer hair came even closer to the hunter, and it became pretty obvious that he was their leader. The man pointed at the open door and chuckled quietly.

"This yours?" he went on and pointed at the Hyundai, which was still parked right in front of the door.

"Yah don't look like no guy who's driving around with no car that's for menopaused bitches" another member of the gang, a slim bald guy who was wearing no shirt under his leather jacket, said and the others laughed.

"Course Jimbo, just look at the blanket" a more muscular man with a beard and even longer hair said in a deep throaty voice and the gang laughed even more.

Daryl tried to head for the door, but the leader of the group placed himself in front of him, still laughing.

"Now hold on, blanket. Why don't yah tell us a little more 'bout yourself, huh? Any particular reason yah broke int'my house all by yourself? World out there's dangerous, especially when yah all on your own.." he chuckled and shoved Daryl when the hunter tried to get past them. It took the hunter a second to let the information sink in. All on your own. They don't know 'bout Connor yet, he thought, but got angry as soon as the leader of the group touched him.

"Get your mits off me!" the hunter spat and swung his knife around, trying to attack the three that were standing right in front of him.

The men dodged his blow and just laughed, and it took just a slight movement of the leader's hand and the two other men behind Daryl darted forward and grabbed him. One of them grabbed him by his arm and yanked it back so the hunter was forced to drop the knife, whereas the other wrapped an arm around his neck and put him in a headlock. The redneck could feel how they grabbed his crossbow and took it away from him. A second later the third member of the group, a younger man with short blonde hair and a massive tattoo on his neck, appeared in front of Daryl, taking a closer look at the crossbow.

"Phat thing, man. Nice" he said and inspected the weapon. The hunter nearly exploded.

"Get yer filthy mits off that, yah shitface! 'm gonna kill yah!" Daryl yelled and fought the grip of the other two men, who were obviously enjoying the whole thing.

The whole group was still laughing and taking all his weapons, whereas the hunter got more and more furious. No matter how much he struggled and how hard he fought, they wouldn't let go. Quite the opposite, the grip around his throat tightened even more. Where the fuck was Connor?! The leader of the group took a look at Daryl's crossbow as well and then approached the hunter with a grin on his face.

"Now, now. This ain't the way t'greet the owners of the house yah scumbag just broke in to, don'tcha think, blanket?" he said and got so close to Daryl's face that the hunter exploded even more.

"Fuck you" he answered and spit right in his face.

In a matter of seconds the whole gang stopped laughing and looked at their leader, who was slowly wiping his face. He gave Daryl a death glare and didn't say anything. Instead of lashing out and punching their captive in the face the man got up and headed for the door to close it slowly.

"Well, just your luck, blanket. I'm in a good mood right now" he said and turned around once the door was shut behind him.

A dark smile spread across his face after a moment of just staring at Daryl.

"You've arrived just 'n time for diner."