Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead.

Summary: "If I get bit, you promise me that - no matter what anyone says - you'll take care of it." DarylGlenn, oneshot

Okay! Here's just a little fic. It's slightly AU. The group is at Herschel's but they've found Sophia, Carl is still bedridden, and all that jazz. It's basically based on the typical zombie movie premise of "If I get bit, you better shoot me" and all that. Not terribly original, but I just really wanted to write this scene. Thanks so much for reading!

Vows

The whole thing happens in just a minute or so.

There's a scream, the sound of tearing flesh, and the shot that rings throughout the empty air, followed by another one. The group races over to the sound and finds that there is blood everywhere, coating the trees and the grass and every surface around the place.

Shane lays on the ground, unmoving and bloody, a gaping hole in the side of his skull. Several bite marks adorn his thick arms. The gun is still in his hand, still smoking.

No one asks what happened. That much is fairly obvious.

"Oh…my God," Lori murmurs, her hands covering her mouth.

The kids aren't there, and that Daryl thinks is a blessing. He can't imagine what would have happened if Carl was out there with them, or Sophia. He sees that Lori has collapsed into Rick's arms, and Rick himself is barely fighting tears. The whole group is solemn, and he feels Glenn sidle up to him, but says nothing.

"What…what do we do?" Lori gasps between distressed sobs. Daryl doesn't have to think twice as to what they mean.

"Bury him," Andrea's taut voice comes out of nowhere. "Properly. What else?"

Rick, ever the voice of reason, says, "Yeah. Yeah."

The task of moving the body is easier said than done. No one seems to want to carry the body of their fallen comrade. Daryl volunteers for the job, as well as Rick. Everyone else gives them a wide berth as they make their way closer to the farmhouse. The stench of the dead permeates the air that was once clear of such smells. For a while, it seemed that Herschel's farm was the only place that didn't wreak of Walker, and now that very air has been tainted with the rot of a Walker and the death of their friend.

They decide to bury Shane next to Otis. Everyone pitches in to dig the hole to lay Shane's body to rest. Lowering him into the ground is another thing altogether, and it causes Daryl's skin to crawl in a completely different way.

As soon as his body is in the grave, everyone says their words of parting to him. Dale takes up the duty of filling the grave and then putting a good amount of rocks over it to match Otis'.

It's nighttime when everything is done, and Daryl feels that he needs a shower more than anything else right now. He strips himself of his bloodstained clothes and throws them to the bathroom floor. Against the pristine floor, the clothes look as dirty as a curse word being used in a church house.

Daryl finds himself scrubbing harder than usual. The bottom of the shower becomes a mixture of brown and rust-red colors as the grime is washed from his body. He uses every kind of soap in the place, even the girly smelling ones, just to get the stench of Shane's corpse off of his body. He doesn't know how long he stays in the shower, but he finds that he doesn't care. He takes his time, changes into the cleaner clothes provided to him by Rick, and moves to put his usual clothes in the sink to soak.

He's caught by surprise when he hears something move in the bedroom outside.

He doesn't have his any weapon with him, but he knows that he can always disable whatever it is with his hands if he needs to. Tense as a bowstring, he walks out of the bathroom.

And comes face-to-face with Glenn.

The boy is kneeling over to pick something up - it looks like a slightly broken vase that he had obviously knocked over - when he hears Daryl exit the bathroom. Daryl looks over to the bed and sees that the covers toward the edge of the bed are wrinkled and bunched in places.

"Sorry, I…was just waiting…"

"For a while, looks like it." Daryl nods his head over to the disheveled bed.

"I might have fallen asleep for a bit."

"Then you decided to break these kind folks' vase?"

"Well, I didn't really decide - and it's not really broken…but uh…"

"What do you want, Glenn?"

Glenn blinks for a moment and then walks over to the bed, "You were in there for over an hour. I didn't realize you took girl-showers."

On a normal day, Daryl would give some kind of snarky in response, but he can see that Glenn is on the verge of losing it. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to talk."

This causes Daryl to raise an eyebrow. "Since when do you want to talk to me?" He doesn't want to feel flattered, but there it is.

"Since now…since…"

"Shane?"

"Y-Yeah…" he stutters. "Cause of Shane."

"Go on," Daryl drawls. He finds that he is still standing, rather than taking a seat next to Glenn. He leans against the wall and crosses his arms.

"I want you to kill me."

Daryl chokes on his own saliva, sputters and coughs and thuds his chest with his fist. Suddenly, Glenn is up and beside him, hitting his back with a closed fist as well. Daryl tries to ignore the fact that Glenn is touching him - because, really, it doesn't bother him at all - and finally gathers himself.

"The hell are you asking me to do, Chinaman?"

"I didn't mean now," Glenn says, looking down at his feet. Daryl can see the faint flush to his cheeks. "I mean if I become like Shane."

"…if you get bit…" Daryl doesn't want to even think of that.

Glenn nods, "If I get bit, you promise me that - no matter what anyone says - you'll take care of it."

Daryl inhales a breath that's shakier than it's supposed to be, and runs a hand through his damp hair. He's not sure what to say for the longest time, so he's silent, until Glenn speaks again.

"I just…don't think I could do it myself. Like Shane did."

The comment is out of Daryl's mouth before he realizes it, "And you think I can?"

Glenn looks startled for a moment, not expecting that question, and he takes off his baseball cap for a moment before running a hand through his hair. He hastily puts it back on as if he feels exposed without it. "I thought…I thought you'd be the only one who would."

Somehow, this insults Daryl. He steps closer to him, so close that their faces are inches apart. Daryl ignores the fact that this is the closest he's been to anyone in a while, and that all of his nerves are screaming at him to run away, to back away and just give Glenn whatever he damn well wants. But he can't. He can't have Glenn thinking that it would be just that easy for him to do it. To kill Glenn when he wasn't even a Walker yet, to have to look into those bright, innocent eyes and pull the trigger - all because Glenn wanted it.

That didn't mean Daryl wanted it. He didn't realize how heavily he was breathing until he was right in his face. Daryl can smell the sweat and grime coming off Glenn and realizes that he must have headed straight here after the burial. He looks at Glenn and meets his eyes before saying what he needs to get out, what he has been needing to say for the longest time.

"You overestimate me." The words are growled, completely rough, no smooth edges whatsoever. He feels Glenn start to shake a bit and grasps his wrist, surprising himself at his forwardness, "Like it would be easy to do that to you."

"I just thought - "

"You thought wrong."

Daryl shoves Glenn's wrist away from him as if it had burned him and gives him distance once more. Glenn's face is flushed, and he looks as shocked as Daryl feels right about now.

Glenn is more tactful than Daryl once thought, for he doesn't ask any other questions. Daryl stares at him, looking over that damned baseball cap and raking across his face. He isn't sure what possesses him to say the next thing, but he finds that he does.

"I'll try," he says, watching as Glenn tenses for a moment before relaxing. "But only if you do the same for me."

And just like that, an array of emotions cross Glenn's face before landing on one that Daryl knows well - sadness. "I…"

"And you can't, huh?" Daryl says, a hint of cockiness in his tone. "Figures."

"I…I'll try."

Daryl knows what he hears in Glenn's voice - he knows it as a feeble attempt to look stronger than he is. He knows that Glenn is no more capable of shooting him than he is of shooting Glenn.

"So, deal?"

"D-Deal…" Glenn says, and somehow he look sadder than he had when he came in there.

Daryl gives him a slight smile then, nothing much, just a twitch of the lips. "Been a long day. You need to sleep. And a shower. You're stinkin' up my room."

"Can I use that one?" Glenn asks, knowing that Daryl was one of the lucky ones who had a bathroom attached to his room.

"It's not my shower, Chinaman. But I doubt they'd mind."

Glenn smiles at him, "Chinaman, really?"

Daryl rolls his eyes and shoves him roughly in the direction of the shower.

Glenn laughs, walks off to the bathroom, and closes it with a click. A few seconds later, the shower starts and Daryl finds that thought soothing as he leans back on the bed and folds his arms behind his head. He stares up at the ceiling and tries to not think of the seriousness of the situation that he had just been a part of.

He doesn't like to think of Glenn being bit by one of those things. He tries to push it to the back of his mind. He tries not to think of the scenario leading up to when he'd have to put a bullet through his brain. But he has to. He's told Glenn that he would do his best. And he would. He knows that if the time came, he'd have to grant Glenn the same courtesy Daryl would expect if he were in the same situation.

He just hoped that it would never come to that. That luck would somehow be on his side and that Glenn wouldn't fall prey to those creatures.

But then, Daryl was reminded, if luck had been on anyone's side this whole thing wouldn't have happened in the first place.

End.