Angel (Daryl Dixion x Reader)

~76~

   Glass shatters behind you making you flinch. Your body freezing up when ice cold realization corses through your veins. Oh.. fuck. You hadn't heard him coming down the stairs. Hadn't been able to catch his scent from your blood soaked shirt in your mouth smothering your sense of smell. Now that it was brought to your attention, you could smell his scent of black pepper, and earthy sandalwood. You knew who it was for certain by the three quick steps to the side. Then a familiar sounding rifle racking a heavy, deadly round into the chamber. Fully loaded and ready to fire if you so much as moved the wrong way. "How the fuck did you get in my house!?" Shane roars loudly. Your eyes slide closed at the cold hatful promise of death in your big brother's voice. "Through the front door." You flatly inform him, your shirt falling from your teeth and slipping just over your sports bra. Unable to fall farther as the blood damp, tight fabric sticks against your already rain, and sweat coated skin. He sucks in a shocked breath of surprise. Immediately recognizing your voice through the darkness of that kitchen. Even if it didn't actually sound like you at all to him. "..Sis?" Shane breathes in utter disbelief, hesitation, and confusion all wrapped up into one questioning tone. You nod through the darkness in confirmation as you drop the bullet into the glass full of rubbing alcohol with an audible tink. Not really knowing if you'd ever get to hear him call you that again. Relived you'd been able to hear it. "Ya gonna pull the trigger, or what?" You ask him as your eyes watch the clear rubbing alcohol turn pink from the threads of thick blood floating away from the cruel metal. Knowing that he hadn't lowered his lethal aim as he hadn't moved from his silently stunned stance.

Your cold sounding question must of knocked him back to some sense of reality because he moves. Even if it's just a little bit. His aim on your head no doubt, dropping. "What the hell are you doin' here?" He asks lowly. His voice so dry and icy it reminds you of the heart that you shoved down so often now, still being present in your chest. The heart that cracks even more from his dangerously hurt tone. Just like an already cracked glass trying to hold together under even more strained pressure that it cannot physically handle. You turn to him, taking him in. Finding him in nothing but black sweat pants. Seeing how disheveled he looked from sleep, or lack there of really. Physically fine from his weight that hadn't changed that much. Granted he was a touch leaner. Probably because he was drinking more than eating which tracked for him. That was what he did when he lost someone he loved. It was what he did when he was grieving. "..Visitin'." You tell him as his eyes slide down to your hand pressing the quickly soaking through gaze to your side. His eyes widen, and he almost goes to step to try and help you, but your head turns to the side. Hearing quick foot steps coming down the steps from upstairs along with the unmistakable sound of the colt cocking. Shane freezes, eyes sliding to the stairs right before the kitchen's over head lights flick on. You blink a few times at the drastic lighting change that stings your eyes some. "Sis-" Rick breathes as he freezes in his skin. Your eyes meet your twins. He was also was lacking in good sleep. "Brother." You greet back. Unable to fight the exhausted tone that over takes your voice. Especially when your eyes slide down to that lethal colt python of his. Still cocked, ready to fire and put a devastating hole in your forehead. He noticed your gaze. The blatant calm acceptance. Because if you were going to die tonight at the hands of your own brothers, you wouldn't even reach for either of the pistols at your thighs. Nor any of the cruel looking throwing blades strapped to your belt. You'd let them kill you tonight if that's what they were gonna do. If that's what they had planned on when coming face to face with you again. "What the hell happened to ya?" Rick asks as he swiftly un-cocks it and carefully sets it down on the island in front of himself. You blink at that subtle gesture of trust, then your eyes slide back to meet his. "Got shot." You admit simply, flatly. He shakes his head a bit absently as he stares at your bloodied hand. At the trails of smeared blood still all down your abdomen and side. Then his gaze slides up your arms. Then to your face. Slowly taking in the deep scars that now littered your skin. Actually able to take in all the damage now that Negan wasn't keeping a lingering, threatening presence over the whole of Alexandria. "What the hell happened to ya?" He re-asks carefully. This time with a serious sense of, you'd better fucking tell me who to kill.