I do not own the Walking Dead in any shape, or form. Sorry for the long wait. School has been kicking my ass. :/ I hope you like this one. It's longer and a lot more angst. D:

Song: Sacrifice- Theory of a Deadman

Pairing: Glenn/Daryl

Rated: M for character death, language and denial.

"Daryl-" It came again, that incessant noise of some piss poor bastard barking up the wrong damn tree again. It was really starting to aggravate him, the thought that everyone was out to talk to him about his feelings, make him feel better. The thought of everyone figuring him out, thinking that in a moments span if they just kept their thumb on him, he wouldn't snap, he wouldn't try to kill himself. Well, there would be no sacrifice tonight, because he'll never break down.

Snorting angrily to himself, he didn't stop in his tracks, instead continued to walk to where he'd shot the deer. Stalking down to the tree which is had chose to rest its last precious seconds again, Daryl grumbled to himself as someone kept following him. Grasping the arrow through its head, he gave it a hearty yank. With a sickening cracking wet sound, the arrow gave way and Daryl was strapping it back into his bag before the other could open their mouth even the smallest bit. Not even a glance back, Daryl grabbed the young buck and hoisted it's head over his shoulders and soon the front legs followed.

Half dragging, half carrying it to camp, he was vaguely aware Rick was still following him and talking. Too bad Rick didn't know that every word escaped him as he threw the deer in front of the women, without a word before walking off to the pond. With every step he took, Rick was there. Seconds passed in silence, or what seemed like silence since Daryl was trying his best to ignore every heart-felt sodden shit spewing from Rick's mouth. Sentences leaked past his front and snapped the last straw.

"Look, jackass, I'm fine. I don't five a flying fuck. So why don't you saddle up on your throne and go whine and have touchy feeling time with the girls." Caustic anger flared as Daryl was close to grabbing his bow again.

A tick of his jaw and Rick sighed softly, shaking his head. "Everyone is taking this hard, Daryl. We're still a team, you know. We're still… Just trying to survive." His words were hard an awkward, almost as if he didn't know how to deal with Daryl, which would have made him laugh had he not been so angry at being coddled all of the time.

"So, what then? You think I'm not? You think just because one thing happened, I'm going to give up looking for my brother, give up on life and just end it right here? You fucking shithead, you really aggravate me. I didn't get this far just to let some fucking zombie gnaw on my brain and to have some, Holier-Than-Thou Sheriff telling me what the hell I should do!" At this point, he couldn't stop it. It flowed freely, open in the air. All the confusion and anger over this whole situation, this whole apocalypse; everything just boiled over when it happened.

It was a breakdown. Three seconds it took him to raise his arm. Two seconds it took him to ball his fist and raise it. One second it took him to punch Rick right in the mouth, in the middle of him sprouting some more bull shit about needing to deal with his feelings. Daryl didn't have any feelings to deal with. Simple as that. It happened, there was nothing he could do, and he got over it. Everything had settled back over the dust.

"I'm fine. Just shut the fuck up and quit following me." Daryl hissed and glared deeply at Rick who looked shell shocked, his eyes wide with anger and surprise. Spitting a mouthful of blood out, he took the hint and walked off, but not before leaving with some parting words.

"I hope for all of us, you're really fine. We can't survive without you."

He couldn't remember what happened after that, just blind fury that choked him and caused him to hiss deep in thought. He just remembered not really waking up, but being alert at sundown, six hours gone without a thing to remember them by. His body felt heavy and groggy, his muscles sore, his knuckles bleeding. His eyes slowly gazed over the bleeding orifices and frowned. He wasn't concerned that a zombie came, but he was curious.

Sighing softly, he roused himself from the bank and stood with little difficulty in his joints, their chorusing in refusal to get up. His eyes blurred briefly from staring into space. Feelings escaped him as he mutely scrubbed at his stubbly face. The water rushed at a fast pace as Daryl passed the remainder of the time scrubbing away dirt from his knuckles and his body.

The walk back to camp was filled with silence of the forest lying down to sleep, but Daryl's mind was ahead of him. Darkness seemed to creep inside of him, grasping hold of his brain before he could stop it, letting open the flood gates for the thoughts to rush around and wreak havoc inside of his head. Gripping his nightmares where he stored them and dragging them, kicking and screaming to the forefront of his thought. Before he could stop himself, he crippled to the thoughts raging inside of his head.

A laugh pierced his thoughts; it was a soft, trailing laugh full of delicate lips red from kisses. It was his laugh and it made him grin, kissing the tan skin of his neck, earning more laughter and slight twitching of his body. It was one of those moments that put everything in perspective for him. Everything up until that moment seemed so small compared to this; he seemed so lost compared to this moment, this feeling of having Glenn in his arms as he did now.

He wasn't one to say he loved someone, wasn't one to settle down, just a quick bang here and there, but something about the way Glenn's eyes held him and the way his fingers gripped at his neck, the way his cheeks grew red with heat. These were all things that attracted him. He wasn't sure how to deal with it, how to speak it aloud, how to feel it…

Glenn did all the work though. He read Daryl's mind, knew his feelings, knew his urges and felt the things he felt. It was almost an effortless relationship. They knew what the other one wanted at the right time, knew why the other one was sullen. It was almost perfect. Almost. It lacked those three words because Daryl couldn't bring himself to say them.

"Oh god," Daryl panted, his eyes strained and shifting to the trees, to the water, to his feet. Everywhere. He couldn't keep them still. His stomach churned and burned with the thought of what happened. The smell of the crystal clear water made his head spin as images created a scene behind his eyes; a heart wrenching one.

He couldn't breathe, the rattle in his chest and the slow, deep burn of his heart prevented the breaths to escape from his lungs into the air. Hanging over the lake, Daryl coughed, willing the air to leave his lungs and enter again, willing his heart to stop beating and willing for things to be back to the way they used to be. Breath finally found its way to his lungs and with that breath, it brought on the first stings of gags.

The water agitated his eyes and he pressed the heels of his hands against them, pressuring them into stop seeing the images. His stomach contracted and out came everything he'd eaten that day, and even last night. Acid, bits of food and his heart is what he puked up while the images taunted him.

Everything happened so fast. It was a blur. The ten was pried into; the sound of fabric woke Daryl up, catapulting him from the back of his truck. A quick survey of the camp site showed walkers. Launching into action, Daryl took his cross bow and swung at the zombies limping towards him. The first one splintered right through the eye and through the neck. Throwing his body back, he got his weapon back, kicked another in the face and looked for Glenn.

The only thing he could remember about that night is his desperation in the darkness and the fumbling over shit littered on the ground. He remembered the blood and the groaning, hungry moans.

He'd gotten through three of them before he heard the crack of gunfire and saw Glenn shaking uncontrollably with the gun limp in his hands. He had blood smeared on the side of his face, leaking from his neck. All the blood dribbling down the front of his flannel and that dumbfounded look on his face.

"GLENN!" Daryl could hear explode from his mouth as he quickly closed the distance between them, swinging his bow at another walker, watching it thump to the ground. He arrived breathless as he grasped Glenn's face, his dirty thumb stroking his cheek."Glenn, Glenn. Come on. Oi, chink. Stay with me. Stay with me." His pleads grew more desperate as the seconds raged on and Glenn's eyes lazed around, unable to focus on anything.

Feeling the pressure of the situation, Daryl smacked his cheek, trying to call to him. "c'mon chink! Stay with me. You can't fucking die now, you pansy." His teeth gritted against the emotions and he ripped his shirt off, balling it up to Glenn's neck. One of the nameless women passed by and he grabbed her by the wrist, glaring into her eyes. "Keep the shirt pressed on."

With that, he stood up to face the Walkers, looking for the one who still had a bit of his Asian dangling from his jagged, decaying teeth. He remembered. He remembered everything. How when he finally got rid of them with Rick's help, how Glenn was already gone, starting the transformation. "I can't-" Her protests were cut short by a mouth falling down upon her eye. With a sickening crunch, her face gave way to strong teeth and meat was pried from the once beautiful face. The walker sat where Glenn was, in his clothes, wearing his hat and chewing on face. Swallowing his pride, Daryl kicked the bitch aside hard enough to end her life and shot her in the head. "Fucking bitch, I told you to watch him!" Nothing could stop the emotion in his voice from leading over. He turned to Rick who gave him a sympathetic look. Gritting his teeth in anger, Daryl grabbed Glenn and hoisted him up in the air, careful of his teeth and stared into the dead eyes. He couldn't say it. Even when it wasn't Glenn anymore so instead he just shot him in the face. Right through the brain and watched as Glenn fell over.

He'd done it. Killed him that easily. Buried him. But he didn't mourn. There would be no sacrifice. These stupid fucks needed him. He wiped his mouth and spit into the water, nursing his pounding head and found his way back to the campsite. As he walked past the line of trees, he stopped at Glenn's grave and squatted, just staring at the freshly packed earth, not knowing what to say and cursing himself he hadn't said it all along. "I love you. And there will be no more sacrifices."