Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or Blade II, wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: This is a response fill for the USS Caryl's 2nd fanfiction/fanart Challenge on tumblr regarding the following prompt: (Scenario #1) "AU Caryl with any of the different characters that Norm has played over the years. (ie: Replace Daryl with Scud from Blade II or Murphy from Boondock Saints.)." - As requested by karouyamisaki.

Warnings: Contains spoilers for all three seasons of the Walking Dead – particularly season one and just to be safe, all of Blade II. This is an AU/crossover fic, hurt and comfort, strong language, the usual blood, guts, and gore.

Pedestal

Chapter One

It had been easy to pull the wool over their eyes, to play the part of the greased up wrench monkey. The harmless, smart-talking fixer-up type guy that was always friendly, always generous when it came to lendin' you a puff, until the night - not two days after Rick had been reunited with his family – a group of walkers suddenly invaded camp.

By his best estimates, barely a beat had gone by between Amy's scream and the others' startled cries, but by then he'd already pulled his piece from underneath his shirt and had flicked off the safety. Doing what had always come to him naturally, surviving.

And when the smoke had cleared and those left standing started countin' their losses, to say the others looked at him differently was an understatement. Their reactions ranged from awe and surprise, to grudging respect and downright suspicion. Honestly, he'd been expecting as much. He hadn't exactly advertised that he was packing. Hell, he doubted anyone had been aware he'd even been carrying in the first place, let alone actually known how to use it.

Shit, he'd hit his first bulls eye at barely nine years old. His old man might not have been around for long, but at least the prick had taught him something worth learnin' - how to take care of himself.

He'd tried to play it off, until Shane flat out confronted him not half an hour later, crowding him against the RV until they were practically bumping chests, grilling him five ways till Sunday as Andrea wailed somewhere behind them. It was the type of sound that colored the very air around you, seeping under your skin and stayin' there, like an itch you just couldn't scratch.

He supposed it made sense in a morbid sort of way, that the sound of loss, the sound of grief and despair would be something that stayed with you. That it would feel like it sounded, something stained and dirty that wriggled underneath your skin and fuckin' stayed there.

He'd been about five seconds away from getting his ass royally handed to him when Rick and Jim had stepped in to mediate. But he'd gotten the last word, telling Shane where to stick it as Jim and Dale motioned him over towards one of the lawn chairs. Makin' noise about level heads and shit as his hackles stayed on point.

He could feel the weight of Shane's gaze drilling a hole through the back of his head. He flipped him the bird without even glancing backwards, smirking into his shirt collar as a string of angry words rose up behind him.

It wasn't exactly like they'd been handing out the guns like party favors before all this anyway. It was his piece and he had a right to protect himself. Just because 'Mr. Defender of the American Way' hadn't noticed he'd been packing heat all this time didn't mean the man's ignorance was any fault of his.

Honestly, the man seemed downright butt-hurt lately, spoiling for a fight. It didn't seem to matter what the situation was or where, Shane seemed to be nursing one hell of a grudge for someone. Either that or he desperately needed to get laid. Actually, if he didn't know any better he would say that it'd all started the day Rick and co. had returned from Atlanta. Huh.

There was a story there somewhere, he was sure of it.

He figured it was best to stay put for the time being, watching out of the corner of his eye as Rick drew Shane off to the side – either in cahoots with him or tryin' to talk some sense into him – from this angle it was hard to tell.

He slumped against the back bumper of the RV, figuring he might as well get comfortable as he lit up, closing his eyes in relative bliss as the harsh tang of nicotine settled deep in his lungs like a warm, all-encompassing blanket.

He tried not to make a big deal of it when the others trickled over to touch base, Jim, Dale, Jacqui, Morales' woman, all sending him a smile or a quick thanks before they wandered off again. There was curiosity and a whole list of unanswered questions in the back of their eyes, but at least they had their priorities straight. They didn't give two shits about the gun and his little performance, all they cared about was that they were still tickin'.

He caught sight of Sophia playing next to Carl and Morales' brood, sending her a wriggling, one handed wave when she smiled shyly at him from her seat at one of the picnic tables. Her Mama was nowhere to be seen.

He shook his head, wondering internally when he'd even started noticing.

He spat on the ground, tasting grit on his tongue as he took a draw from someone's canteen, gargling then spitting again. He let the sounds of the others fade into the background, ignoring the way Rick and Shane would glance over at him occasionally in favor of taking stock of himself.

He tried to block it out when the others started dealing with the bodies, but he failed somewhere along the line as the sound of metal scraping against bone echoed uncomfortably in the muted hum.

His mouth tightened as the piles grew larger. His teeth and tongue worried a hangnail bloody as he started recognizing faces, clothing, a scar, a smattering of freckles. Fuck.

They'd lost so many. It was like Atlanta all over again, the chaos and death that had ensued when the military blockade had failed. He'd never seen anything like it, and in all honesty, considering his history, that was actually saying something.

Like he'd said before, he hadn't hesitated. He'd had his gun out and was already shooting nearly ten seconds before anyone else. Everyone was screaming, yelling, calling out, mere shadows beyond the light of the fire until you couldn't tell who was who anymore. Until you couldn't risk shooting blind, as those on the outskirts of the main fire, those already asleep in their tents tried to make it on their own.

He wasn't sure how many times his finger squeezed down on the trigger, but he did remember the sound when the chamber finally clicked empty. Shit! He'd only had one clip!

He heard Sophia scream somewhere off to his right, but before he could even so much as pivot, a walker lunged out of the shadows, tripping over one of the folding chairs as he scrambled out of range, dropping his Glock and snapping up a half-burned two by four as the stupid fuck followed him around the fire. He swung the piece of wood like a baseball bat, feeling the thunk vibrate all the way up his arms as the walker fell face first into the coals.

He didn't wait around to see if it was going to get back up again.

He caught sight of Carol and Sophia on the opposite side of the clearing. Somehow they'd gotten separated from Lori and Carl, cornered by a group of walkers that had shambled out of the tree-line, seemingly separate from the main herd.

Rick and Shane hadn't noticed, they just kept shooting, taking down walker after walker as Lori and Carl remained sandwiched between them. He hadn't even thought about it when he'd dropped the piece of wood and zigzagged around the fire. He ducked around Morales as the man took a baseball bat to some deadhead's face, feeling the blood pepper across his cheeks as he stumbled, nearly tripping, aiming for that flash of silver as Carol wielded a broken tree branch, trying to fend off the closest walker - Sophia hiding behind her.

He wasn't sure where the daring had come from, but before he could even internalize it, he'd unsnapped the buckles of Shane's holster and lifted the man's spare firearm before either of them could say 'boo'. He'd taken down the walkers surrounding Carol and her chick before Shane could say anything, just nodding as he'd joined them, standing shoulder to shoulder for the first time as he pushed Carol and Sophia behind him, - keeping them safe as he covered their left flank.

It had felt oddly, nice - knowing that for once someone other than me, myself, and I had his back.

He could feel the warmth of her against his back, the flutter of hands, fingers, and nails before she finally settled on seizing a corner of his jacket, fisting it in her small hand until he felt like a dog on a leash. But still, he didn't baulk. Instead, he used it. Her steady presence served as a reminder of just what they were fighting for.

Rick tossed him another clip, the movement smooth and almost seamless as Shane's Mossberg blared out into the chaos; he could see people, things, moving beyond the reach of the fire. The flash from the muzzle highlighted parts of the crowd, lighting up the night as walkers fell on the fallen, ripping up screams just as easily as they did flesh as fear crawled up the length of his neck like a shiver and stayed there.

Caught in the half-light between the front of the RV and Glenn's cannibalized Dodge Challenger, Jacqui yelled. She was holding a fire axe, trying to keep a small group of walkers at bay. She was outnumbered and being pushed towards the edge of the quarry. He wasn't sure where the man had come from, but before he could so much as aim in her direction, Jim entered the fray, eyes flashing as he swung a shovel like a long sword.

But the man wasn't paying attention, he didn't see-

He fumbled in his pocket, nearly dropping Shane's gun before his hand finally closed around the last of his bastardized flash-bangs – the one that had that wicked kick at the end, nabbing both Vampire and Human as another group of walkers converged on Jim from behind. He only hoped they'd work half as well on walkers.

He just needed a few extra seconds…

When he and Blade had parted ways – not even twenty-four hours after they'd gotten Whistler back from the fangs – he'd ended up skipping town before the vampires or Big B were any wiser. It was a long story, but the not so sudden decision had involved a lot of heart to heart and him finally getting his head out of his arse regarding the whole vampire ass kisser thing. He'd hit the road before sunup, getting to the nearest airport just in time to catch the red-eye back to the good old red, white and blue. But despite how he might monologue it in his head, he hadn't exactly left empty handed.

He'd set out with a mini arsenal of sorts, half convinced he was going to be facing some sort of vampire death squad the moment he stepped a fuckin' toe out of line. But nothing had happened. Not the first mile, or the second, the tenth or the moment he'd turned off the highway and angled his van towards the airport. Nothing had happened when he'd bribed one of the baggage handlers, skipping every security checkpoint between him and his plane. Hell, he'd stepped off the plane at LAX, and before he'd even recovered from getting bitch-slapped with the humidity, he had a text message waiting from one of his old contacts, finding both her and his luggage already waiting for him out front.

God, he'd missed America.

The first thing he'd done after that was set up camp at the nearest Krispie Kreme joint and binge for the next two fuckin' hours. He'd walked out with pins and needles in his ass and the mother of all sugar rushes, but damn had it been worth it.

He'd used up the majority of the hardware he'd managed to squirrel away after getting stuck in the suburbs. He'd nearly taken out the side of a gore-splattered Burger King trying to dodge a group of deadheads. Accidentally blowing right through a parking lot that looked like the Battle of Blitzkrieg-clusterfuck-Suburbia had just gone down five minutes before he hit the curb and crashed his stolen two-seater into a smoking Humvee some ding-a-ling had left abandoned in the middle of the god damned parking lot.

Turns out the place hadn't been as abandoned as he'd originally thought.

He felt more than heard Carol's sudden intake of breath as he drew his arm back and aimed, taking a second to shout out a warning as walker and friendly alike whirled around, scattering as Jim and Jacqui threw themselves to the ground, rolling under the RV only half a second before the flash-bang went airborne.

Make papa proud.

The resulting explosion ripped through the trio of converging walkers, sending the smell of scorched earth and old death filtering through the air as bits of sod and the odd limb or three melded together - misting through the quiet like chemical rain as he took out the remaining walkers with the last of his clip.

A smug smile tugged the corners of his lips skywards as he surveyed the scene, sassy and satisfied as Jim and Jacqui peeked out from underneath the RV, wide-eyed and uncertain.

Bo-frickin'-ya! The Scudester was back in business!

A/N #2: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – There will be one more chapter after this; it should be up tomorrow so stay tuned!