08 October 2016

Bloodsoaked in the Moonlight Chapter 6

Summary: In which Harry rears his ugly head.

A/N: Well guys, this is it. The fic is finished. I hope you enjoyed it. I certainly had fun writing it.

...


Daryl traced his index finger over the small scar on Sasha's tummy. She breathed in deep, her body satisfied and her heart feeling lighter than it had since the Turn. The feel of his touch was soothing, and she could almost fall asleep, right there beside the water, beside Daryl, ensconced in his solid strength, and his warmth. 
“I shoulda stopped that asshole from cutting you,” he said quietly. 
“You've gotta stop blaming yourself for the bad shit other people do, Daryl,” Sasha told him. “Let people take responsibility for their actions instead of you heaping it all on your shoulders. You don't make people do bad things, Baby.”
He wasn't able to meet her eyes but he at least nodded. She pulled on her shirt and Daryl made a little noise of regret that she was covering up. 
“You'd fuck all night long if you could, wouldn't you?” she teased, kissing him.
“What makes you think I can't?” he whispered,  putting his lips gently to the shell of her ear. Damn if he wasn't awakening something inside her with that kind of talk.
“Daryl…” Sasha said, in a playfully warning tone, when his hand went to cup her breast.
“You know, I'll bet he can fuck all night.”
Sasha and Daryl both froze for a moment, before looking up at the man who'd spoken. It was Teeth’s worse half, Harry, and he had a gun aimed right at Sasha. He used it to motion for them to stand.
“Up you go, you cute kids. It's dark out here. Why don't we join our friends at the camp, hmmm?”
Daryl got up and put Sasha behind him, which made Harry laugh.
“Awwww. Look at you, being all protective and shit. And they say chivalry is dead. Move your asses. Now.”
They had no choice but to head back to the camp. When they arrived they found Michonne, alone, with two other men. She sat with her hands testing on her knees. Her katana was out of reach. Bob was nowhere to be seen, but Daryl didn’t ask after him. If they’d killed him then it was likely his body would be nearby, in view, but since he was gone, Daryl hoped he could provide them with the element of surprise. 
Harry shoved Daryl to the ground beside the fire Michonne and Bob had built. Then he gripped Sasha and made a show of sniffing her.
“Mmmm...you smell of him,” Harry breathed, making Sasha’s stomach roll. “You smell of sex. Pussy and a man's cum and sweat all mixed together. Tell me, girl...did it feel good having this big motherfucker between your legs?”
Sasha turned her head from him in disgust but she soon felt the sharp edge of a knife at her throat.
“When I ask you a question I expect an answer,” he said. His voice was calm but she could detect the undercurrent of rage.
“Yes, it felt good,” she answered.
“I imagine it did. I’m gonna know exactly what it’s like to have his cock moving inside of me. You know how I know that?”
“No,” she said through gritted teeth.
“He’s going to replace my brother,” Harry told her. “Henry and I were everything to each other. Everything . Daryl here took him from me. It’s only fair he should replace him, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No,” Sasha said, answering his question, just as he’d commanded, only this time she didn’t give him the answer he’d wanted.
“Is that right? Want to keep him all to yourself? Selfish bitch. All women are. You think you’re entitled to anything with a dick.”
Harry shoved Sasha toward Michonne with such force she raked her face across the dry pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. She hissed in pain while Michonne tried to help her sit up. Harry knelt beside Daryl and stroked his hair back from his face.
“You got something to hide, Daryl?” Harry asked. “Or are you ashamed of something? That’s the only reason I can think of for you to hide your face behind all this fucking hair. I’m going to have to cut it. I don’t like long-haired men. It’s too feminine, and I like my men masculine and clean cut.”
He leaned forward and flicked his tongue out, tasting the dried salt on Daryl’s skin, from where he’d broken a sweat making love to Sasha. He made a sound of approval before pressing his nose to Daryl and breathing in deep.
“You don’t bother with a lot of deodorant. I like that. A man should smell natural.”
Daryl remained physically still while his mind raced on how he could overcome Harry without putting Sasha and Michonne in danger.
“Before I feel you in my ass,” Harry told him, running his hands over Daryl’s body, “you’re going to feel me in yours . I'm gonna punish you for taking him from me.”
“You think your brother was the first to try me?” Daryl asked. 
“A stud like you?” Harry questioned. “No, I'm sure plenty of men took a shot at you when you were younger. Back when you were callow and oh so tender. Malleable. Easily influenced. Henry may not have been the first, but I'll be the last. A year or so from now, after I've used you, punished you for killing him, I'll end you slow, hard. For now, some entertainment!”
Harry went to sit beside Sasha, just as Seb had that night over a month ago.  Every muscle in Daryl's body tensed. He'd just gotten Sasha back and the unfairness of it, of having her in danger from the same group of scum, just when he was able to open up to her about what he wanted with her, wanted to give her off himself, made him tremble with rage.
“Take your pick, Quinn,” Harry said.  “Which girl?”
“Don't this group have any white meat?” the other man asked.
“Don't be racist, Bart,” Quinn said in a slow, casual tone.  His eyes were roaming over Michonne.
“I saw a young blond girl,” said Harry.  “Sweet little thing, if you're into women, and I am, on occasion.  She couldn't have been older than 18, 19.”
Bart looked happy with this news. The idea of getting his hands on a young girl energized him. “Gimme the light skinned bitch.  That dark one looks too much like a gorilla.”
Unable to take it another second, Daryl jumped to his feet, ready to charge, but Quinn was quick on the draw and he had a revolver in Daryl's face before he could get two steps in.
“Don't mind Bart,” said Quinn.  “He's Old Glory through and through. Racist as fuck but he ain't worth you dying for tonight, is he?”
“Have a seat, Bart, let Quinn take over,” said Harry.  “This one here is Daryl's girlfriend. I think I'll keep her close in case he gets any ideas about starting some shit.  Y'all have at the other one. What's your name, darlin’?”
Michonne answered by spitting in Harry's face.  Bart moved in and punched her, knocking her over. When blood poured from her nose, he started jumping in place, excited, bloodlust starting to boil.  He went to hit her again but Michonne blocked and brought her other hand up, two fingers pointed, and drove them hard into the soft flesh of Bart’s throat.  He gagged and coughed, fell backward.  Harry laughed uproariously.
“Gorilla warfare!” Harry howled, and Quinn joined in, but he approached Michonne with a lot more caution.
“Leave her alone,” Daryl said, knowing it was useless. He hated this helpless feeling. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel this way since the turn. For many, the outbreak had ruined their lives. For Daryl it had actually been an improvement. He was made for this world, but these assholes were undoing everything, making him feel like a vulnerable child again.
Quinn managed to grab Michonne’s right foot. She lashed out with the other and he caught her, and dragged her closer to the fire where he flipped her over and then yanked her toward him, forcing her legs around him where she couldn’t kick him, or maneuver in his powerful grip. It was obvious this wasn’t his first rape. She tried to twist, to turn over, and finally to crawl away from him, but her hands only grasped loose soil that gave her no purchase. Quinn easily avoided Michonne’s attempts to slap at him.
For a moment her eyes met Daryl’s and he saw the fear in them. She was going to be raped and nobody could stop it. Bart had quieted from the throat punch. He looked angry, resentful, but the erection in his jeans was unmistakable.
“Get her, Quinn. Get that nigger bitch!” he said in a raspy voice. “Then I get to kill her.”
Quinn took a knife and used it to slit open Michonne’s trousers, right between her legs, exposing her.
“No!” Michonne shouted, panicking, still clawing and struggling to get away. “Stop it!  Get off me!”
She managed to hurl a handful of dirt behind her, but Quinn dodged it and started unbuckling his jeans with one hand. 
“Me,” Daryl begged. “Do this to me, not her. Do it it me !”
“Sorry, big boy, I don’t like dick,” Quinn said, and winked. He yanked his erection out and leaned toward Michonne, positioning himself.
There was only one way to save her. Daryl had to give Michonne a fighting chance, Sasha, too. To do that, he was gonna have to die. He was willing to bet that push come to shove, Harry would take the shot at him to save Quinn, rather than harm Sasha, giving her a chance at escape. His gun arm was lax. He was paying more attention to Quinn and Michonne than he was Sasha. Daryl had one shot, and he took it. He dove right at Quinn, and as soon as he did he heard a blast, felt something cut across his back, just as he tackled Quinn to the ground.
Another blast, and another one. Daryl didn’t know what was going on, who was shooting, who was getting hit. All he could see was Quinn struggling beneath him, Michonne crawling forward and grabbing her sword. Sasha was in a struggle with Harry, who was trying to shoot her but she had the gun aimed upward. It fired again, while Daryl laid into Quinn, punching him over and over in the face until he began to weaken, and then went still.
Bart screamed. Daryl looked up, saw he’d leveled his gun at Michonne but then his hand went flying as she cut it off before he could squeeze off a shot. She slashed her katana again and again, slicing him, carving him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.
Daryl could see Sasha was losing the battle against Harry. He moved to try to help her but someone else emerged from the darkness. Someone big, angry: Tyreese, her brother. He gripped Harry’s gun hand and wrenched it away, snapping his wrist in a clean, vicious break. Harry screamed from the agony while Sasha scrambled toward Daryl.
Bart’s head fell, then his body followed. Quinn moaned pitifully beneath Daryl, who was now pulling Sasha into his arms. He heard crying--it wasn’t Sasha, though. It was Daryl who wept. The relief at seeing Tyreese, Bob, and Rick rushing into the camp, guns drawn, was nothing compared to holding Sasha in his arms. She was well, safe, unharmed.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I know it’s too soon to be saying it, but damn it, I love you.”
He kissed her, uncaring of who saw, who knew. Hell, everybody had figured it out already anyway. No sense hiding it, even if he was too scared to say the words back to her.
“Get off me!” Harry shouted.
Tyreese threw Harry, bodily, toward the fire. He hit it, hard, throwing up his arm just in time to save his face. He screamed and rolled from the flames, which guttered from the impact. Daryl got to his feet while Michonne grabbed a towel she’d brought and used it to wrap around her waist and cover herself, where her trousers had been ripped at the edge of Quinn’s blade.
“You guys okay?” Bob asked, limping into the clearing.
“We told you to stay home with Dr. S,” said Rick.
“It’s a sprain, I’ll live,” Bob came back.
“How did you get away?” Sasha asked, helping Daryl to his feet. He’d been grazed again but the bleeding had already stopped.
“I went to take a piss, saw these assholes coming to the camp. I figured instead of playing hero I’d best get home and get help. Did they hurt anyone?”
“No,” Michonne said. “You got here just in time. What are we gonna do with them?”
Rick holstered his gun and knelt beside Harry. “You’re gonna tell me everything about your group. Where you are, how many men you’ve got left, everything. You’re gonna tell me, or your friend here will, or you’re gonna die a slow, hard death. Tyreese, you and Bob get Michonne, Sasha, and Daryl home. I’ve got work to do.”
“I ain’t going nowhere,” Daryl said.
“You’re hurt, Daryl,” Sasha said.
“I’m okay,” he insisted. “And I ain’t leaving.”
“I’m staying too, then,” Sasha said. “No arguing.”
Michonne made it clear she wasn’t leaving. She wanted a crack at Quinn, and when she told Rick what he’d done, he was all too happy to give her that shot.
“We’re in this together, then,” said Rick.
“I ain’t telling you shit,” Quinn said, his chin high, his eyes cold.
Harry was a different story. He was shaking, fearful, tears in his eyes. He was a real badass when he was in charge, but take his power away, and he was his real self--a coward.
“Harry’s mine,” said Daryl. “You ask your questions, Rick, and when he doesn’t answer…”
Rick nodded and rested his hand on his Colt Python. “Let’s start with something simple, then. Where’s your camp?”

...

Epilogue
The sun had set when Rick and his group returned home. They weren't alone: Nine women and three children came back with them.  They'd all had the vacant stare of people who'd been completely defeated by their circumstances.  It didn't take a genius to figure out that the “family” Peter had spoken of had actually been women they'd captured, held hostage, and raped. The children were products of those rapes. They'd been under watch by the last of Harry's men.  Three goons Rick and company had gunned down before offering the women a new home. 
It saddened Sasha to see how these women and children jumped at every noise, flinched at every move, and waited to be raped and tortured.  It was gonna be awhile, a very long while, before they came to see they really were safe now. 
Daryl left the rest of the group and came to her.  He pulled her close and kissed her.  It was long, slow, deep and tender. She sighed in contentment at the feel of his strong arms around her.
“I saved you a plate,” she said. 
“I'll have it for breakfast,” Daryl answered.  “Right now I'm tired.”
“Harry and Quinn?”
Once they'd cracked, Rick issued an order: They were to come home, prepare a team, while he, Tyreese, and Daryl dealt with Harry and Quinn. Sasha hadn’t been there to see exactly what had happened.
“Gone, for good.”
“I'm tired too,” Sasha said, relieved she’d never have to worry about Harry again.  She stroked his chest, her touch light and loving. “I’m gonna turn in. I could probably sleep a lot better if I wasn't alone.”
Daryl's mouth turned up in a crooked ghost of a grin. “Me too.  Wanna crash with me?”
She wrapped an arm around his waist as they headed inside. “Yeah. Just don't get fresh, we're going to sleep.”
“I'll be good, Scouts Honor.”
Sasha squeezed him, her heart filled with affection and love for Daryl.  “You were in the Scouts?”
“Fuck no.”


Bloodsoaked in the Moonlight Chapter 5

Summary: In which Harry and his people prove they're not all that smart starting trouble with Team Family.

A/N: I think Sasha and Daryl need some sexy time.

...


"Don't shoot him, you dumb ass! Harry wants him alive!"
"Sorry! I was aiming for the nigger," came another voice in the dark. Daryl could feel Bob bristle from the slur beside him.
"You the dick on the bike last night?" the flashlight guy said. "The one who almost ran me down?"
Daryl couldn't make out the guy's face with the glare blinding him. He looked instead to the jerk who'd shot at them. He put Bob behind him, shielding him with his body.
"That's me."
"That gray haired bitch in the guard tower the one who killed Nick?"
"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" Daryl asked in annoyance. "Like I know your group?"
"Oh, you're gonna know my group all right. You'll get a feel of all of us, a big stud like you. Move," Flashlight said. "We're gonna take care of your buddy here and then you're coming with me. We need a map of this place. I'm thinking we'll move in, call it home sweet home. Right, Johnny?"
There was no answer. Flashlight risked a glance back. Johnny was on the floor. His head rested a few feet away but the room behind him was empty. Johnny's killer couldn't be seen, but with his head removed so cleanly, Daryl had a good idea who was behind it.
"Come out or I swear to God, I'll blow his fucking head off!" Flashlight said, panicked now.
"That wouldn't be smart."
Flashlight lowered his eyes. Daryl squinted and looked down as well. Michonne's katana was peeping out from between his thighs, sharp end positioned against his balls. The flashlight in his grip wavered, his gun hand trembled. Daryl would've bet his own beloved nutsack the guy was ready to piss himself.
"Lower the gun and I won't split you like a chicken," Michonne said.
A moment later the gun lowered. Daryl knocked the flashlight from the guy's hand, causing it to skitter across the floor. He blinked, seeing spots, and his eyes hurt from trying to adjust to the dark, then he took a moment to tie his belt around Bob's leg to stop the bleeding.
Michonne sheathed her sword and took Flashlight's gun. "Come on."


"This Harry person, he's not the brightest fella, is he?" Hershel asked.
"Don't look like it."
It was full dark when Hershel came to stand beside Daryl. He had a bucket of water and some plastic cups. Daryl took one, filled it, and guzzled it down, while Glenn did likewise beside him. He could imagine how thirsty and exhausted Beth and Carol were, considering they'd been trapped in the tower all day.
"Those idiots keep bringing walkers down on them," said Glenn, shaking his head.
The sound of gunfire, screams, and snarling walkers filled the night. Daryl couldn't see much. Clouds had rolled in, blocking out the moon, but some of Harry's people were in the trees, shining lights across the prison grounds, making it too risky to run either to or from the guard tower.
The door behind them opened and Rick stepped out. His knuckles were bloodied, and he looked sweaty and tired.
"He cracked," Rick said. "There's fifteen of them around the prison grounds. There's probably fewer now, since walkers are drawn to the noise, giving them trouble. He says Harry will likely run and abandon his men if shit gets too dangerous. I'm heading to the roof with Glenn. We're gonna use the night scopes to take as many out as possible. Also, Sasha's out of surgery. She's fine."
Daryl got to his feet, energized by the news that Sasha had made it. As much as he cared about Carol and Beth, he'd been hesitant to make a move before he knew for sure she'd pulled through the operation. He felt like a stupid sap.
"I'm heading to the tower," Daryl said. "Carol and Beth can't stay there much longer. They ain't had anything to drink or eat all day."
"They're still shining lights," said Rick. "They could get off a lucky shot on you."
"I ain't got a choice, and those pricks can kiss my ass. I'm going for the night scopes. Me and Carol can make the shots from the tower better than you can from the roof. Hershel, get some food and water ready to go."


Daryl damn near died on the run to the tower.
Even with the walkers giving them hell Harry's men were still holding their own, still determined to keep Carol and Beth trapped in the tower, likely out of sheer spite. So, when they caught sight of him in a sweep of light they started shooting. Lucky for him, they missed.
Daryl climbed to the top where Beth had the trap open for him. Both women nearly knocked him off his feet in a fierce hug once he was safely inside.
"You prick, you almost got yourself shot," Carol said. He knew she wasn't really angry, just relieved.
"Eat up, drink. I brought night scopes and ammo. We need to take as many of them bastards out as possible."
"What can I do to help?" Beth asked.
"Stay out of the way," Daryl answered.
"I can shoot," Beth bristled. "You both know I can."
"Shooting people's different from shooting targets and walkers," Carol said. "You think you're ready for that?"
Beth hesitated. She was an honest young woman, and shook her head after giving it thought.
"I don't know…"
"We'll take care of it," said Daryl. "Y'all eat."
They quickly finished the venison, crackers, and water Hershel had packed for them. Then Daryl and Carol laid low, making themselves as small targets as possible, before taking aim through the night vision scopes.
"Six in the trees," said Carol. "That I can see."
"Some more lurking across the yard,"said Daryl.
"You take the ones in the trees, I'll take out three guys across the yard," said Carol.
"Fine by me. Beth, stay low," said Daryl, and then he took aim to start shooting.


It was daylight before Daryl made it back inside. He'd seen the carnage through the scope and it was ugly. He hadn't needed to shoot to kill. He'd just had to wound the guys, knock them from their perches in the trees, and the walkers took it from there. He'd shot down three men. Carol had gotten three. The rest finally fled, including Harry.
"He'll come back with reinforcements," Beth fretted.
"Ain't no reinforcements," said Rick. "Not according to Peter, here. If he does come back, we'll take care of them, too."
So, Flashlight had a name. Peter. Daryl crossed his arms and regarded him. "Where's your camp?"
"That's something I ain't tellin' ya. Don't care what you do to me. I got family there, and there's women and children."
"We got women and children, too," Daryl said. "Unlike you, we don't rape and murder for sport."
Peter didn't look convinced. "'Course you do. Everybody does. If they ain't part of the family, they're sport. Them's the rules of this new world."
"Not here," Rick said. He looked to Daryl before he spoke. "Beth, Zach, you guys go rest. We've got this."
They didn't question Rick. They just turned and left. Hershel looked to Rick, a question in mind, and Rick didn't have to say a word. Hershel knew what Peter's fate was gonna be.
"Got rid of the innocents," Peter said, watching everyone else leave the room to him, Rick, and Daryl. "The young and the old. I don't suppose there's any way you'll just let me go home?"
"After what your guys did to Daryl and Sasha?" Rick asked. "After you were gonna kill Bob, take Daryl, torture him, do God knows what else to him, and then come back to try to do the same to the rest of us? No, Peter. I'm not just gonna let you go home."
Daryl stood back while Rick took his knife out.
"Any last words?"
"Yeah," Peter said. "Fuck you."
Rick just nodded before he brought the knife down in a hard arc, driving it into the top of Peter's skull, ending him, making sure he'd never rise again. Daryl thought about Shane, what he'd think of the man Rick had become since the night he'd been forced to kill his best friend. Daryl was convinced Shane would've been proud.


One Month Later
"Whoah, slow down. You're still healing."
Sasha laughed and turned to Daryl. The sun was setting and she was glowing in the reddish gold light of the evening. She was so damn beautiful his chest hurt just looking at her.
Michonne shook her head as she set up the camp fire with Bob. Their run was a success, as far as Daryl was concerned. They just needed to get home, grab their people to come out with the big trucks to help haul everything home from the store they'd found. There had been just too many walkers for the four of them to take on.
"All my stitches are out," she said, moving off and heading into the trees. "And I'm in the mood for a bath."
"Go on," Michonne told Daryl. "Sasha's gonna need somebody to uh...wash her back."
"You mean watch her back," said Bob, feigning innocence.
"No, I didn't," Michonne deadpanned.
Daryl felt his face flush when they burst into laughter, and Sasha joined them, but it didn't stop him from following after her.
"Full moon tonight," Sasha said, looking up at the sky where she could see the moon already shining, a silver orb among the colors that were fading fast.
"You really should be careful," Daryl said.
"The bullet wasn't that deep and Dr. S says I can do everything I normally do," Sasha told him. She stopped pulling off her clothes and looked at him with a serious expression. "Daryl, we've hardly spoken since that night. It's okay if you just want it to be a one-time thing. I mean…you'd just been assaulted and maybe wasn't thinking—"
"I knew my mind that night, and I know it now," he said. "You ain't tried to come around either."
"You didn't seem to want me to," she said, trying not to get defensive—and failing. She sighed. "I know I said thank you for risking so much to get what I needed for the operation. Thanks again."
"Welcome."
Sasha knelt to look for her wash cloth after she pulled out her soap. "Damn. I forgot my cloth again."
She felt Daryl tap her shoulder. She saw him holding out his red rag. "Cleaner than it looks."
She smiled and took it before pulling off her clothes, aware of Daryl's eyes roaming over her body. She waded into the water. Summer was nearly there and the air was hot. He could imagine it was a wonderful contrast to the cold water she stepped into. She dunked under the water once she was hip deep and came up, water cascading over her body. Damn it if she didn't look good enough to jump.
Once she'd soaped up the rag, something he'd had for years before the turn and would be lost without, she began to wash off. It wasn't until she began to scrub between her legs that Daryl felt the first real stirring in his loins. Hell, she may as well have been using his own hand to scrub down there. She dunked again, washing the soap away, and when she came up she looked at Daryl.
"Get my back?"
He nodded and set his crossbow down in the grass. Sasha came out of the water and turned her back to him for him to scrub, which he didn't. Instead he dropped the soapy cloth and pulled her against him.
"No fair, you're dressed," Sasha whispered.
"You want me naked?" he asked.
"I've wanted you naked for a month."
She could feel his hardness pressing against her ass. Damn if it didn't make her moisten at the thought. That thought was nothing compared to the feel of his fingers dipping into her curls where he began rubbing her clit in circles.
"Fuck…" she breathed, leaning against him now on knees almost too weak to hold her up. "Daryl…oh God…"
She was so worked up she could feel her core turning to liquid heat at his insistent touch. The only thing she wanted, truly wanted, was to feel him moving inside her. Daryl sensed what she needed, too, because he was soon moving her to the ground, handling her like she weighed nothing; as though she was as light as air. He was so strong, so sexy. She looked into his blue eyes and moaned when she saw the lust burning bright in them. He was so gorgeous, especially when he was awash in the silver light of the moon.
Sasha's fingers fumbled with his belt while he pulled off his vest and shirt. She yanked his jeans down his narrow hips, taking his underwear with them, until his erection sprang free. She didn't wait for him to lay her back down. She sat forward and took his hardened length into her mouth, inch by inch, until she couldn't handle anymore, and was rewarded with a strangled growl of need. She gripped his hips, her mouth sounding wet as he slowly rolled his hips, moving in an out of her mouth while he buried his fingers in her soft hair. The feel of him, the taste of him, made Sasha's body feel as though flame licked every inch of her skin.
"I want you, Daryl," she said, when he pulled out.
He laid her back, his mouth covering hers, and plunged his tongue inside, tasting himself on her while he sought entrance and pushed inside, giving Sasha what she'd wanted since their first night together, giving himself what he'd been dreaming of since he'd last been inside her...