Here's a quick little peek into Daryl's brain during the beginning events of 'Judge, Jury, Executioner'.

A lil' dose of Caryl drama anyone?

Please enjoy, I own nothing of course. If I did, well...I'd be hanging out with Norman. ALL THE TIME. ;)

"….I ain't like that. Please, you gotta believe me…"

Daryl's foot made contact with the boy's side again and the tremor through his body was as satisfying as the howling sob that ripped from the kid's mouth.

'Randall' was no longer in his field of vision, the old shed disappearing around them as a venomous image seeped into Daryl's brain:

The kid's gang roaring onto the farm, thirty men or more, guns cocked and loaded and pointing from the windows of their trucks, ready for slaughter.

Rick and Shane ducking for cover and finding themselves surrounded, their attempts to put up a good fight completely worthless in the face of so many enemies.

Gunshots blasting, blood spraying into the air as every human being on the farm that sported a dick went falling back with holes in their chests, Rick's boy crying out before finding a gun pointed at his head as well.

Hershel's girls screaming over his body and Glenn's swift feet buckling out from under him at a hail of bullets as he tries to reach them.

Andrea killing her share before running out of ammo and being snatched by that pretty blond hair into the back of a truck, curses spilling form her through grit teeth.

Women sobbing around the land, Randall's boys laughing and whooping in their victory…

Carol staring at him as he lay bloodied and dying too, worthless as shit to stop a group of men from grabbing her arms and dragging her shocked form towards another vehicle. The terror echoing her knowledge of what would happen to her in their camp, her eyes haunted and wet and her mouth silently screaming at him to both live and help her…

His knuckles burned and the wave of pain ran up his arm as he made contact with the kid's face again, his movements practically instinctive by this point. He'd hit the punk a few more times, try to split every part of his lips, try to blacken both eyes to the point of swelling shut.

Maybe if he was lucky, the little fucker would choke on his own teeth.

"What did you do?"

"We had a little chat."

He watched her eyebrows crease at his response, saw those eyes roll just slightly and the look she cast his way before turning her back on him.

Daryl caught the flash of disappointment, the tiny hint of concern (and fear?) in her gaze. He wasn't about to justify his actions to the woman, not after Randall's confessions in the shed.

But his teeth sank down into his bottom lip regardless.

He snuck a glance at her retreating back, watched her wander away to ponder his violence on her own.

Any other day, any other moment, her reaction would have pissed him off. That twinge of fear would have sent him kicking something in a rage and avoiding speaking to her for days on end.

But not today. Today Daryl was content to have her look at him in any way she wanted.

As long as he didn't have to see her stare at him in terror as thirty men dragged her away from him forever.