Warning- This chapter gets pretty violent.

Chapter Twelve

When Carol woke up she didn't open her eyes right away because of the intense pain in her head. She wasn't sure what had happened. She knew that one minute her and her group had been walking through the woods and the next she had been hit with a pain so intense she had blacked out.

She cautiously opened one eye and then the other, blinking rapidly in the rain. It took a few moments for her vision to adjust to the dark. She was standing up and at first she didn't understand how that was even possible. Then she realized that she was being held upright by ropes. Her arms were bent back, wrapped painfully around a huge tree trunk, the rough material digging into her wrists. Her feet were bound with rope wrapped tightly around her ankles.

Through the rain and the gloom she could make out tents spread throughout the camp and realized that she had made a grave mistake going after these men in the dark. She had made a horrible call and her girls were probably paying for it. She strained her eyes and saw that there were four women tied up just like herself. From here she couldn't make out faces, only forms. She wondered if the girls that her and the others had been looking for were even here. Carol almost hoped they were dead. Death would be better for them than what these men would do to them.

She winced, turning her head as a bright light was suddenly shining right in her eyes. She heard a low chuckle and then the snap of the light turning off. She blinked but the sudden brightness had temporarily blinded her. She kept her mouth shut, knowing that anything she said would only set the man off and she needed time to think of a way to get them out of this. She blinked rapidly needing her vision back because she was starting to feel panic claw up her spine and she needed to be calm. The complete lack of light was disorienting.

She stiffened when she felt someone's warm breath blow over her neck. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Open your eyes," a male voice growled next to her ear.

She obeyed, opening her eyes. She was surprised to see that she had regained her vision and could now see much better because of the large flashlight sitting on the ground, the light shining towards the tree branches spreading out above them. What she refused to look at at all was the man in front of her. She kept her gaze pointed down at the light.

She winced as a rough hand grabbed her jaw and angled her head so she had no choice but to look at the man in front of her. Half of his face was in shadow but that didn't matter. She could see well enough now to make out even the shadowed features in the dark.

"Why the hell were you and your friends so close to our camp?" He asked, his breath blowing across her face.

She shook her head. "Just passing through," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He dropped his hand from her jaw then produced a knife that he held next to her eye. "I'm not fond of liars," he muttered.

She focused on the blade that was poised in front of her, his wrist angling it so she had a clear view of the sharp point mere inches from her left eye. "I'm not lying. We were in the city when we heard gunshots. We moved out before the walkers showed up. That's it. We were just trying to get somewhere safe." She hated how afraid she sounded but she couldn't mask her fear. She remembered Cassidy's scars and swallowed hard. Was this the man that had given them to her?

He watched her as she eyed the knife and then she cut her gaze back to his face. He was rugged looking but younger than she expected these men to be. This man didn't look like he was any older then twenty five at most, but there was a hard edge to his eyes that she could make out, even in the gloom. He smiled as she took in his face. He had a deceptively nice smile, boyish. "You look like you might like what you see," he growled as his eyes raked over her.

She held his gaze as steadily as she could but she didn't say a word. Anything she said was going to be wrong and she didn't want to set him off. She flinched when he used the knife to pop the top button of her shirt. He didn't stop there. One by one, the buttons were flicked away by the knife blade until her shirt was hanging open. Her breasts were still covered but she had never felt more exposed than she did in that moment.

The cold steel pressed into the hollow of her throat but the man's eyes were back on hers. He slid the blade down the center of her chest and then leaned in until his nose was next to the skin of her neck. He breathed deeply. "You're gonna be a real sweet piece. I can already tell," he said, his voice rumbling.

Now she did close her eyes, wishing she hadn't been so stubborn. Wishing that she had brought Daryl with her, or even Merle. She knew that this man wasn't going to make this quick. She was going to suffer and her friends were going to suffer and just like before, she wasn't going to be strong enough to stop it from happening. She had become so self reliant, but she wasn't unbreakable.

As the blade drew a slow path down her stomach, her fear was overridden by a strong sense of regret. Daryl had opened up to her like he never had before, trying to let her know how sorry he was for leaving, telling her that he was coming back for her. She had thrown it back in his face because she was filled with so much anger. And now, if she did survive whatever this man's plans were for her, the only thing she would have left to offer him would be a broken shell of a woman.

She fought back the tears in her eyes, and prayed for a miracle, even though she wasn't expecting one.

~H~

They were almost there when the rain finally decided to subside. Daryl registered the fact that the sound of the rain beating down on the leaves above had turned almost instantly into the shrill song of tree frogs. If he had been alone, and not on what he truly believed, was a life or death mission, he would have paused to savor the sound. They usually brought him a sense of peace but tonight the shrill cries of the small frogs was nearly background noise.

"What are you gonna do if we're too late?" Merle asked, sounding hesitant.

Daryl clenched his jaw. "We ain't." He couldn't think of that right now. He refused to believe that those men were doing to her what they had done to other women. She'd been through enough already. Surely fate or God or whoever the fuck was in charge of the mess that was now their world, wouldn't be so cruel.

"You're right," Merle muttered. "She prolly ain't here in the first damn place."

Daryl didn't respond because it wasn't true. She was there. He could fucking feel it. It was like a magnetic pull and he felt like he wasn't moving fast enough. The mud sucked at his boots as he rushed forward, ignoring the burn in his lungs and the ache in his legs. Ignoring Merle's pained grunts and labored breathing. Ignored the stinging pain in his side.

When they topped the last rise he could make out a faint light further ahead, the artificial blue white light of one of the high powered flashlights that were packed away. They only used them when building a fire was impossible.

He finally slowed down when he was close enough to see the tents. As far as these men knew, him and Merle were still a part of their group. There would be nothing suspicious if he walked right into the clearing like he owned the place. Him and Merle had done it a thousand times. He tried to mentally prepare himself for what he might see once he stepped out of the trees. Tried to tell himself that whatever was happening to her, he would deal with it. He would deal with it with his sanity intact.

But goddamn, he had just now got her back. Had just started working past those walls she had slammed into place and if he hadn't gotten here in time, if he hadn't been able to prevent something horrible from happening to her, he'd never forgive himself. And she would never be the same again. All would be completely lost.

"Fuck," Merle muttered as they walked towards the tents.

Daryl's eyes had been scanning the camp but all seemed quiet. But on the outskirts, where the trees became thicker, he saw movement. There were four women tied up and from his vintage point Daryl could tell that they were at least still dressed. He saw Merle stepping up to a couple of men that were huddled together in front of one of the tents. Beyond them, he saw more movement on the other side of the flashlight that was pointed up into the trees.

There was a man there. From Daryl's vintage point he couldn't tell who it was. His feet were moving before he even told them to. When he was a few feet away, his body blocking the meager illumination from the flashlight, the man turned.

Daryl knew him well. His name was Nick, he was young, cocky, and as mean as they got. He sneered but Daryl barely registered the look on the man's face because he couldn't take his eyes away from the woman tied to the tree.

Carol's head was pressed against the trunk of the tree, her mouth covered with tape. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and her breathing was ragged. Her shirt was open but she wasn't exposed just yet. His eyes traveled down and he saw that he had interrupted Nick in the middle of unfastening her belt. His fingers lingered on the leather strap.

"Can't you see I'm a little bit busy here, Dixon? Take your ass somewhere else. We hit the jackpot, pick a tree and get your own whore."

At that Carol's eyes snapped open. The blood was pounding so hard in Daryl's ears that all he could hear at this point was a steady roar, like he was next to a raging river.

"Did you hear what the fuck I just said to you?" Nick barked, going back to work on the belt. "I called this one already. You know the fucking rules."

When her eyes met his he could read the relief in hers and though they had just been dry, they swam with tears that quickly spilled over. That was what did it. The relief was clear but he could also see humiliation there. Pain. Fear. Helplessness. He had seen all of those things in her eyes before but not like this. It was all too much and something in him snapped and suddenly the only thing that mattered at all was that he put himself between her and anything that would ever put that look in her eyes again.

His better judgment was lost in that look. He slid the rifle off his back. His eyes sliding down to where Nick's hands were now working her pants open. The rifle fell to the forest floor and without a second thought he grabbed the man, slamming him onto the ground, face first. Nick grunted and then instantly tried to buck Daryl off, but there was no use. Daryl had an edge. He was running on rage, his adrenaline roaring through him, making it easy to forget that he was still barely healing from a stab wound. Making him forget about the exhaustion that had been plaguing him.

"Get the fuck off me! You can have her. I'll take another one!" Nick grunted out. The man didn't understand that he wasn't ever getting up off the ground again. Didn't understand that Daryl had every intentions of taking his time. He wanted the piece of shit to feel it all, for as long as Daryl could make him feel it.

Daryl rolled Nick over, jerking his arms down to his sides so Daryl could dig his knees into the man's forearms, pinning them there with his knees, all his weight bearing down. Nick cried out in pain but the sound was cut off as Daryl's fist slammed into his face. Nick was stunned but regained himself quickly, struggling to get his arms free as he turned his head, like that could deflect the next blow that smashed his nose.

Daryl detected movement off to his side but he ignored it. Nothing mattered at the moment but the threat and Nick was the threat. Images of the man tearing at her clothes flashed into his mind and he growled in anger and frustration. He moved down slightly, freeing Nick's arms and the man was able to do nothing but hold them over his face, a meager attempt at protection, but Daryl was finished with that part. While the man sobbed into his hands Daryl laced his fingers together, raised his arms over his head and then slammed them down like a sledgehammer into Nick's soft abdomen.

Nick squealed and tried to roll away but Daryl gripped him by the throat, stilling him as he looked down into his ruined face. Daryl went for the knife in his boot, no longer feeling like dragging this out. He wanted the man dead. Dead and unable to rape and torture and murder. He wanted to wipe all traces of him away like he'd never existed. But then Nick's eyes focused on him, his lips twisting angrily.

"Just as well," Nick spat. "She ain't the only bitch here I can wreck. Looked forward to hearin' her scream though. Doubt you got what it takes. I was gonna make her scream real good." He laughed, blood spraying from his ruined lips.

Daryl stared down at him, those disgusting fucking images slamming into his head again. He gripped the knife hard.

Looked forward to hearin' her scream though. The man's words pounded through his skull. He'd have raped her. He'd have made sure she was hurt bad before he would have ever stopped and the sick piece of shit would have taken pleasure out of every scream, every pained cry. He could see it happening in his mind. The images flashing like he was flipping through a picture book. Her body ruined, her eyes vacant, lost. Everything she could have become simply gone. What those images did to him then he wasn't sure, but something changed in his mind...

He moved off the man, used his foot to jerk Nick's legs open wide and then swiftly slammed the blade up between his thighs as hard as he could. It was exactly what Nick had in mind. Violating her until she was hurt so bad she'd pray for death. Well, now Nick could get a little taste of what he'd wanted to dish out.

Eyes bulged as a piercing scream shattered the night. Daryl twisted the knife and then jerked it back out of the man's body before pushing it in again, twisting hard and jerking it upword. He pulled it out after that and then sat up on his knees.

Through the haze he could hear his brother retching somewhere off in the distance. Nick was rolling, screaming, flailing and whimpering pitifully but suddenly his body was being dragged away and then the sounds suddenly stopped. Someone had put him out of his misery. Daryl stared at the knife in his hands, the blood covering the blade and the handle, his fingers. It fell into the dirt in front of him.

As the adrenalin washed away he felt like he was about to pass out. What the fuck had he just done? Sure, the man had needed to die but...

He was on his knees, gasping for breath when he felt a shaky hand brush through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead and he raised his eyes. Carol was free now, though he didn't know how, didn't care how as long as she was okay, standing in front of him. Her eyes met his, her hand gripping the back of his head as her fingers dragged along his scalp. Her shirt was ruined but she had taken the time to tie it, keeping it in place. He brought his hands up to her hips, his forehead resting against the warm skin of her stomach as he pulled in ragged breaths. There was movement all around him but he wasn't able to put much thought into what was happening. She stood there, cradling his head against her but he didn't know for how long. When she urged him to his feet he stood up but letting her go wasn't an option.

He didn't have to worry about that. Her arms went around his neck, her body slamming into his hard. Her face turned into his throat and a shudder ran through her frame so he tightened his hold on her. He looked up and was surprised to see Merle dragging the bodies of the other men. Cassidy, the woman that wanted him and Merle dead, was helping him. There were other women, further off by the trees but all Daryl could make out were their shadows. They were too far away and he was too fucking tired to bother with a head count anyway.

She ran her fingers into his hair as his forehead dropped to her shoulder. He turned his head, breathing in the familiar scent of her and forcing himself to focus on the warmth of her body and the fact that she was very much alive and intact. At the moment, that was all that mattered. He had gotten to her in time and everything was going to be okay. He repeated those words in his mind over and over like a mantra.