hello you lovely people! I'm afraid to tell you that this might (pretty sure it will) be the last but one chapter. There's one last chapter that will be set in Woodbury, to set up the next story, but after that Damnation will be done! And I'm pretty sure I'm gonna post the last chapter tomorrow! Noooooooooo. But before all that there's more Connaryl interaction after all the Woodbury chaos. Hope you like it and thanks for all the latest reviews! I love you all =)

setting: episode 16 "Welcome To The Tombs"

Damnation

Chapter 67 - Blood

The war was supposed to be over, but it didn't really feel like it. The remaining members of the prison had decided to leave their old home to head back to Woodbury with the others. There were many reasons for that. The prison was overrun with walkers again because of the noise they had made with all the guns and grenades. There was some damage to the walls and fences, and it would take way too much time to put everything up again. Then there was the fact that the prison was a dirty, dangerous place. One that was too big, one that you could never really control. They had wounded people like Daryl and Connor, and it wasn't exactly a safe place for Judith either.

Then there was the more obvious reason,that it was necessary. They still didn't want another survivor camp so close by, no matter if they had stopped shooting each other for now. Rick, Andrea and Connor saw a chance in the fact that most of the strong fighters including the Governor and his henchmen were dead. Woodbury had not been able to assign a new leader yet, and they wanted to make sure that there wasn't going to be a Governor.2. And they could only achieve that by staying there and keeping an eye on things until they knew what they were going to do next. The group wasn't really sure about their decision, but they still wanted to leave with the residents of Woodbury. They knew that they would be far from safe in this town, but everyone had to kind of agree that actual beds, walls, electricity and running water were far better than living in prison cells.

Woodbury didn't exactly trust the prison group either, but they weren't soldiers, they weren't military, they weren't psychos for the most part which was definitely a good thing. They were civilians after all, and since they all knew Andrea and trusted her more or less it actually helped a lot. Rick still told everyone of his own group to keep their weapons ready, to keep an eye out on everyone just to be safe. It was kind of surprising though. Now that their former enemies had seen baby Judith and Carl, heard all the gruesome details of the Governor's deeds and as soon as they had seen all the injuries, death and misery they were actually rather kind to them. At least the majority of people like the women.

Rick insisted that they should keep each their belongings to themselves, just so that no other fight over food or anything like that would commence. Since they had destroyed most of the cars from the other group they got another bunch from the parking lot, and once again no one would stop side eyeing each other the entire time while getting ready for the journey over to Woodbury.

Connor sighed.

This was going to be a nightmare.

He headed for the part of the prison yard where they kept their things and cars. It made him angry to see that Daryl was still on his feet, moving things and bags and ignoring his fresh wound completely. He walked over to his friend and then grabbed the heavy bag which Daryl was trying to carry inside one of the trunks.

"Whoa whoa, hold te fuck up. Yer not gonna carry that thing" he warned his friend and then threw the bag inside.

Daryl stood there and pressed his hand to his chest for a moment.
He was very pale and it was obvious that he was still in much pain, but Daryl wouldn't be Daryl if he wouldn't deny it.

"'m fine" the hunter growled and turned around to head for the next bag.

Now that he was somewhat back on track more and more bits and pieces of what had happened the day he had been shoot were coming back. He was in pain which made him bitchy by default, but he was also pretty upset if he was honest. Now that all the drama was gone, now that the Governor was dead and Woodbury wasn't such a threat anymore his mind was forced to process everything that had happened to him. He was forced to process his brother's death although he didn't want to. He thought that all these months of hearing Connor whine about it had prepared him for a life like this, but truth was that he was far from that.

He had never been able to truly picture what it felt like to be the only one left of your family. He had lost his mom a very long time ago and didn't really feel anything about it anymore. He had lost his father to walkers last year and if he was honest he had been relieved when that happened. He had lost his uncle half a day later and put him down, but all of that had never really mattered, because Merle had always been out there. Somewhere. He had been alone pretty much all his life and he had been fine with it, but just because he had known that his big brother was still out there. Whether that bastard had been in Atlanta or Woodbury or Sedalia. He had always been there.

And now? Merle wasn't there anymore. He would never be able to look forward to another reunion ever again. He would never ever be able to get annoyed by his stupid brother again. All he had left now was his motorcycle. Just that. He wanted to be angry but somehow couldn't. Because there was no one to be angry at anymore. Not the Governor, because he had slaughtered that son of a bitch. Not the walkers, because they had not killed Merle. Not Rick or the others, because Merle had made that decision all on his own. All that was left now was the pain in his chest and apart from that the emptiness in his heart and stomach. He hated that feeling, so he forced himself to fill it with something. And that something was the only thing he could right now, the only thing he had always been good at:

Be angry at Connor. Blame him.

Because that bastard had put that idea in Merle's head. Because he had not looked after him when they had been alone. Because this asshole had been jealous of his brother, because he had said that he wanted him dead. He knew it wasn't fair. He also knew that Connor was anything but guilty. He knew about all the things his friend had done for him after he got shot. The driving like a madman, the running and fighting walkers,, the bringing him back here and taking care of him and making sure he was alright.

But there was no one else to blame, so he blamed his friend and turned his back on him, walked away from him with an annoyed grunt. The hunter headed for his motorcycle- Merle's motorcycle- and tried to put his stuff on there, so he could get away from this godforsaken place. Just like any other time when he had been hurt and pissed Connor wouldn't just leave him alone though. The Irishman followed him and tried to take the second bag from him.

"Come on, man. You just got shot. You should rest" the blonde suggested and tried to put a hand on his friend's back to guide him to one of the cars, but Daryl tried to shrug him off and kept going.

"'m said I'm fine."

"Just let me fucking help yer fer once, you asshole!" Connor suddenly snapped, which made his friend look at him.

"You need t'fucking rest. Those stitches ain't made of steel and it doesn't take much t'split them. We just put you back together, alright?
I listened to you last time you asked me to take a rest, so don't be such a fucking princess about it and listen t'me fer once."

Daryl just snorted and looked at his friend through narrowed eyes.

"Yeah of course. You listened to me and stayed. And look what fucking happened."

Connor froze right then and there and looked at the hunter in surprise. Daryl regretted his choice of words, but they were kind of true.
He sighed and turned around again.

"Just wanna be on my own" he said and started walking and this time a bit faster, but Connor kept following him even now.

"It wasn't yer fault, alright? And it wasn't my fault either. It was no one's fault but that sick fuck's. He killed your brother and shot you, not me. It's over now, and you shouldn't strain yerself too much. Just..just get yer ass in one of the cars over there and rest. I'm gonna leave you alone then. I can put yer stuff together, take yer bike and fol.."

"You ain't touching that bike. You don't even look at it" Daryl interrupted him as he stopped walking and looked his friend right in the eye.

"I said 'm fine. Think you got it last time when we were in a situation like that and you wouldn't leave me the fuck alone when I asked yah to.
Don't you ever get anything in that stupid thick Irish head of yours?"

Connor looked back at him with pain in his eyes, while he was still trying to control his anger because Daryl could be so fucking stubborn sometimes. He just wanted to help him and look after him, why would that asshole never get that? It had been so easy with Murphy compared to all that shit now. Murphy had always welcomed him to look after him, and he still was way too used to that role to lay it down now. He was the protector. He was the big brother. He was the one who took care of shit and knew shit after all. And Daryl needed to fucking get that.

"I just don't want ye ta shut down again. Just look at you, man. You came so fuckin far. Yer a different man compared to when I met you. Just..stop this shit. Don't make it worse. I know what it feels t'lose yer brother just like that, but shutting down and falling in some fuckin hole won't help. I just wanna keep you from all this."

Daryl pressed his lips together, and that not just because of the anger but also because of the pain in his chest that came from both the bullet wound and losing Merle like that.

"It ain't nothing like you losing your brother" he countered and Connor let out a gentle sigh while staring down to the ground.

"Brother's brother, Daryl."

The hunter shook his head and pointed at his friend with an angry growl.

"No it ain't. You had your chance to save yours. You had him all your pathetic life and you were there when it happened. You got t'say goodbye to your brother.
I never got to do that!"

By the time he was finished he was yelling the last sentence at his friend, because the frustration and anger over his brother's death fully took over his body.
Connor just looked at him and let him talk, so Daryl kept going.

"I wasn't there when it happened, and I wasn't there in time to safe him. And the last things I ever said to him were how you were so much better than him, and how I wanted the old him back instead of taking the brother that was standing right in fucking front of me. He died thinking he got replaced by someone like you!" he snapped and shoved the Irishman hard.

The sudden movement sent a sharp and hot pain through his chest and made him wince and cough. The hunter lost his balance and would no longer use his hands to shove his friend away, he grabbed his leather jacket instead and tried to keep himself upright. Connor caught him with an awkward grunt and tried to keep him steady. Daryl tried to move away at first, but the pain was really bad by now, to a point where he didn't want to move an inch.

"What'd I tell you, you fuckin moron" Connor muttered and wrapped an arm around his friend's waist to help him get to their Hyundai.

Daryl wanted to complain, insult his friend and tell him that he was alright, but the pain was actually so bad that he couldn't speak at all. The wound didn't feel like last time he had been shoot. Last time there had been an arrow stuck in his side, and there had been two superficial wounds on both his temples, but this was a wound right in his chest, close to his lungs and whatever guts he had stuck in there. It felt like a piece of extremely sharp and hot string was slicing his insides, and although he was kind of used to pain he had to admit that it really fucking hurt.

Only an occasional grunt escaped his mouth but other than that there was nothing, until Connor managed to open the backdoor of the car and put him in the backseat.
Although Daryl hated to admit it: sitting was actually nice. Yeah, that asshole was kind of right. Resting felt good.

Connor crouched down next to the car and adjusted the hunter's position until he had made sure that his friend was comfortable enough. Daryl just stared straight ahead, through the windshield and at the walkers and crosses down the hill. He was exhausted, he was tired, but right now he was just sad. And he was too exhausted to hide it. He finally gave up struggling and fighting and let Connor do whatever the fuck he wanted.

"You seen your bro right after he died?" he asked after a while and Connor looked up after ruffling his blonde hair.

"What?"

"First night after your brother died..d'you see him?" Daryl asked but still wouldn't look at his friend. He just stared blankly at the field.

Connor looked at his friend for a while and studied the expression on his face.

"Didn't sleep fer three days after that. Or more. I don't know anymore. The days, maybe even months after that day are a bit of a blur t'be honest" he said and then looked in the same direction as Daryl. "I pretended he was there after a while. Kept talking t'thin air and all that. But I didn't really see him until I meet you people. Got worse when I met you. Til I saw him almost every day" he went on and looked at his friend then.

"Why'd you ask?"

Daryl wouldn't say anything to that for a very long while as he just kept staring and had to think about what he had dreamt just before waking up.

"Do you think he was real? Like, really real?"

Connor let out a gentle snort.

"What, like a ghost or something?" he asked and chuckled, which made Daryl angry.

The older of the two friends sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know. Could be. Could've been a really good memory, too."

He stared in the general direction of the crosses where he had buried Murphy's knife and rosary. Even now he felt a dull pain in his heart, even now half of his body felt like there was something missing, like a phantom limb. Although he missed his brother like hell and thought about him and even talked to him every day he wasn't in such agony anymore.

"No matter what it was, it was nice t'have him with me fer a bit longer, but I'm also relieved that it's over now."

Daryl nodded and replayed these last moments over and over again, when he had last seen Merle. On the field. In the infirmary. By the car. Maybe this had been a memory. Whatever it had been, it had saved his life. It had kept him going when he had been about to just give up and stop fighting. And it had woken him up when that bloody walker had been about to eat him. Daryl frowned and automatically reached for the rosary he was still wearing. Connor noticed it and smiled because of it. The hunter let out a gentle exhausted sigh and then took the rosary to get rid of it.

"Better get your freaky thing back. All the 'walkers ain't attacking me' bullshit don't suit me" he growled and handed the rosary over.

Connor took it and moved his thumb across the wooden surface, and the remark made him frown and tense.
He put the rosary around his neck and figured that this would be the time to tell Daryl what had happened after that shot and surgery.

"Well actually...I think it's not the rosary's fault, that is" he muttered and Daryl turned his head to look at him.

"What?"

Connor took a deep breath and nodded.

"Aye. I think it's my blood."

Daryl frowned and just stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Connor moved his arm, the one he had used for the transfusion. He pulled the sleeve up to show the ugly bruise from his own attempt to take the blood after all the others had left. He then pointed at Daryl's arm, and after freeing his friend from his sleeves the hunter could see the bandaid on his own arm.

"Hershel cleaned te wound and got rid of all the fragments, but those little fuckers put loads of tiny holes in your blood vessels. You'd lost too much blood by the time he was done with the surgery, and when it got worse and worse we decided ta do it. No one knew yer blood type, and I happened ta be type o negative."

Daryl kept looking at him, shock rushing over him. He was suddenly well aware of all the blood that was flowing and pumping in his body.
Connor rubbed his forehead awkwardly, as he still remembered the whole thing all too clearly.

"We gave you some and you seemed ta be doing good, but then shit went wrong and you had a seizure. Hershel couldn't hear a heartbeat or feel you breathe, and everyone thought you was dead. So I threw them out and kept pumping my blood in yer arm. Because that's the exact same fucking thing that happened t'me when you people thought I was dead after I got bit. The fake death, the wide eyes and being like stone shit, that was exactly like that."

Daryl finally managed to look down on his arm and grabbed it. He could still feel his blood flowing and suddenly felt extremely awkward. There was stuff inside him that wasn't his. He had someone else's blood inside of him. He had Connor's blood inside of him. It made him shiver and he had to pull a face. He hated that knowledge because it embarrassed the crap out of him. It was way too intimate, way too strange and new for him. No one had ever cared about him so much that they were actually willing to give something of themselves and put it in..He shook his head and got angry. Goddamn fucking leprechaun and what that fucker did to him and made him think about.

"Could've killed me and turned me, yah moron" he growled and massaged his arm.

Connor smirked.

"And here you are."

They kept looking at each other and Connor grinned more and more, knowing that his friend was super embarrassed right now.
Daryl looked away with another gentle growl and moved his sleeve back down.

"Looks like we're blood brothers now" Connor went on and chuckled.

"Shut up" Daryl muttered, because he still hated the mention of the word "brother".

He took a closer look at the walkers and sighed.

"So yah basically sayin I'm some freak like you now? Immune or some crap like that?"

Connor shrugged and got back up to clean his jeans from all the dirt.

"Dunno. Why do ye think we wanna head fer Woodbury next? Fuckers over there know shit."

"Yeah. It's not like yah moron just blew them up with grenades and threw them at walkers" Daryl muttered but Connor didn't seem to have heard him, because he was talking to Glenn for a moment.

Daryl shook his head and eyed all the people from Woodbury, mistrust growing inside him with every face that he saw. He recognized some of them. Some of those blood thirsty fuckers that had been standing there cheering while this Governor wanted to make him and Merle... He froze right there and shook his head with an angry growl. No. There was no Merle. Merle Dixon had died. Even better: Merle Dixon didn't exist. There was just him. He was just Daryl. But still. He didn't trust anyone from Woodbury, he didn't want to go back there, no matter how much of an good idea and comfortable place it really was. He liked it dirty. He liked the woods around him. He liked having to hunt for his own foot and sleeping close to a campfire or inside a tent. This whole new beginning in some stupid town was a stupid idea, and he just knew that there was going to be some serious trouble.

The hunter let out another hiss when he felt another sudden stinging in his chest and looked down on himself to check the wound. It annoyed the crap out of him that it wouldn't stop aching. He rubbed his chest a bit and then leaned his head back to close his eyes. He knew a good method to fight the pain, because he had been doing it a lot back then. He just needed to close his eyes, and pretend it wasn't there. He just needed to picture being somewhere else. Maybe his favourite day-dream: hunting somewhere up in the hills. With no undead pricks staggering around. No. Just him and his crossbow and knives, maybe hunting a deer and sleeping under the dark and open sky. Smelling nothing but the trees and earth and rain instead of all the shit and gore you had to smell these days.

There was nothing but him and nature, nothing but... He snapped his eyes open with a violent start when he heard the whispering of people close to him. He turned his head in shock to check if Connor had heard it as well, but his friend and the others were still busy talking and arranging things. The hunter scratched his nose awkwardly and turned his head to see where the noise had come from but didn't really see anyone. He tried to shrug it off. Maybe he had fallen asleep again. Maybe it had been a dream. When he looked back at the fence right in front of him he startled once more because he could see the walkers who were just standing there. Just standing. Staring right at him. They didn't shake the fences, and when they moved their mouths there were no groans coming out, there were actual whispers.

He turned his head once more to see if Connor really didn't react to that weird stuff, but no one seemed to notice it at all. And he didn't exactly notice it either. Unless he was staring right at them and concentrated on it. It took him a while, and if he was honest then he had to admit that it scared the crap out of him. But he still believed to hear actual words coming out of their mouths, and after listening up for a while he thought that he could understand them. It was a sheer chaos of words and mumbling, but there they were, three very distinct phrases.

Help us.
Join us.
So hungry.
Join us.
Join us.