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When everything went to hell people panicked. They made stupid decisions and weren't prepared for the future. To them, there was no longer any future. The Dixons weren't them though. They didn't panic. They didn't make stupid decisions. They prepared, they gathered what they could use, and they had one goal; survive. The Dixons didn't have it easy growing up. Merle and Daryl lived in the bad part of town with an alcoholic abusive father and a neglecting and selfish whore of a mother. They didn't have it easy. They had to fight tooth and nail to survive. They made sure to learn early on that nobody was going to help them, so they had to help themselves. The brothers learned to hunt, to track, how to survive.

The brothers promised themselves that they would never let their children suffer from the same pain. They still didn't have much, but they had a roof over their heads, warm beds, food on the table. They made sure that their children knew that they loved them and would only protective. They also made sure that their children were independent, they didn't want them to suffer for even a moment.

The five Dixons have been staying with a group just outside of Atlanta for a little over two months now. The group wasn't much. It consisted mostly of women and children. The few men that were among the group didn't have much sense of survival. When the Dixons got there the group was half-starved, half stupid, and closing in on death. The leader of the group is a man named Shane Walsh. He used to be a cop in the old world, but he was no boy scout. He didn't know how to get clean water, how to hunt for food, even making a fire was difficult for him. It was the Dixons who taught them to keep their fires low to keep walkers and other living people from finding them and possibly killing them. It was the Dixons who taught them to boil their water before drinking it. It was the Dixons who hunted and brought them fresh meat. And what do they get in return? White trash, that's what the group calls them. They look down on the Dixons, treat them like dirt. If it wasn't for the Dixons then this group would be dead already.

Daryl never let it bother him. He doesn't care what people thought of him. He didn't care how other people looked at him. He wasn't much for attention, so he preferred to just fall into the background and let Shane Walsh act like he knew what he was doing. Merle was more volatile than Daryl. He often picked fights, talking shit, and being his usual asshole self. His daughter wasn't any better. Harley was more likely to rip a person's eyes out than to give them the time of day. Tommy was more like his dad, preferring to be all but invisible. Most people don't even realize Tommy is there half the time. The kid barely says a word around people that aren't his family. Then you have Noah. Noah is every bit his father. He is violent, short-tempered, crude, and he had very little patience, especially for the group he was with. Only his family seems to get a pass from him.

Today seems to be an especially bad day for Noah.

The Dixons had only two tents. One tent Daryl and Merle shared, while the other was the tent that the three kids shared. Of course, they weren't really kids. Noah and Harley were close to twenty-five, while little Tommy had just turned seventeen before all this shit started. They were closer to being grown adults, but that didn't mean they always acted like it.

Noah hadn't gotten much sleep when Harley dropped her heavy work boots right onto Noah's head. "What the fuck?!" Noah growls as he sits up, rubbing his now throbbing head.

"Where the hell did you put my fucken bag, Noah?" Harley snaps. The twins were always fighting. They both were too much like their father and that volatile nature often caused the two to snap. Most days end with one or both of them with cuts and bruises.

"How the fuck should I know. It's your shit."

"I need that bag, Noah."

"And I need my fucken sleep, Harley."


"Go fuck yourself, you goddamn bitch. I don't have your fucken bag."

"I'm gonna fucken kick my foot so far up your ass that every time you walk my foot will be kicking your ass."

"Don't even fucken try it Harpie." Noah growls, throwing off the covers of his blanket and standing to face his sisters.

"Where did you put my bag?!"

"I don't have your fucken bag!"

"Where is it?!"

"It's too early. Stop fighting." Tommy groans as he buries his face under his pillow. Harley growls and throws a punch, hitting Noah right into the nose, causing a sickening crack to sound and for Noah to go stumbling back, right onto Tommy. "Ugh, Noah."

"You fucken bitch." Noah jumps onto Harley, taking the both of them down.

"Get off me, you cocksucker!"

"Eat a fucken dick, whore!" Tommy huffs and sits up.

"Dad!" Noah goes to grab Harley's hair, but before he can grab the blonde silk he is pulled off.

"Goddamn it, Noah!" Noah struggles against his uncle, throwing his elbow back and hitting Daryl right in the throat. Daryl grunts, but doesn't let go until they're both out of the tent and Noah is handed off to Merle.

"I had about enough of this shit." Merle growls as Daryl drags Harley out next. "Fuck, what did you do to your brother's nose?" Merle turns Noah's face turns him and looks at his son's nose. It was cocked at a bad angle and bleeding like a stuffed pig. "I'm gonna have to fix your nose."

"No shit." Noah drawls, still breathing heavily and extremely pissed.

"Alright, hold still." Noah grunts as Merle repositions Noah's nose, causing it the bones to make a sickening cracking sound as it's fixed. "That's going to swell up soon." Merle huffs and looks towards Harley. "How many times did I have to tell you to not break Noah's nose. The kid's nose is never going to look right if you keep breaking it."

"He stole my bag."

"I didn't do shit." Noah snarls, fighting against his father's grip once more.

"Hold the fuck still. Harley you touch Noah one more time and that's it girl. I don't care what he did don't touch your goddamn brother and Noah if I even see you lay a hand on your sister I'll be the one breaking that fucken nose of yours." Noah growls, but allows himself to relax in his father's grip and stops his struggling. "And what bag is it your looking for Harley?"

"My purple one."

"It's still in the truck. You never took it out." Harley has at least the decency to look embarrassed and a tad ashamed.


"Opps?! Opps? Oh, I'm going to-"

"You're not doing shit. I'm separating you two from here on out. Harley, you're staying in my tent and Noah just stay away from Harley and go get some ice on that nose. I think the old man has some in that junker of his."

"I fucken hate you." Noah snarls before shoving his father's arms off him and storming for the rv. His day has already gone to shit and it isn't even noon yet. He ignores the people staring at him as he walks up the steps of the rv and heads inside. He never really liked the rv. It was always so cramped and hot in it. He felt like he was stuck in a mini toaster with the setting up high.

"What on earth happened to you kid?" The old man asks as he walks out of the back bedroom.

"Walked into a fist." He says, his voice dripping heavily with sarcasm.

"Oh, well sit down. I'll get some ice for that." Noah huffs but does as the old man asks and takes a seat by the window. "Here use this to clean that up." Noah takes the mirror and wet towel from the old man and begins to clean up the men.

"Causing more shit, Dixon?" Noah feels his hands clench to fists as he looks up to see the smug cocksucker, Shane Walsh standing in the doorway.

"Fucking more widows, Walsh?" Noah grins as he sees a flash of anger spark in the man's dark eyes. "Is the bitch keeping you nice and warm? I didn't think her loose diseased baring pussy was all that welcoming, but then again I ain't into skeletons."

"Watch your fucken mouth, Dixon!" Shane snarls.

"What are you going to do about it, Walsh." Noah growls. "Just because my sister can kick my ass doesn't mean I can't kick yours."

"I got some ice for that nose of yours." Both Noah and Shane look over towards Dale who is staring at them with concern and unease, holding a towel of ice in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. "Everything okay here?"

"Just fine, Dale. See to it that the kid gets looked after. Hate to see his face be damaged for good." Noah could hear the threat lacing his words, but it only made him shoot the other man a dangerous grin.

"Oh, don't worry, Shane, I am known to inflict more damage than recieve it. Dixons don't stop until the other person begs for death." Shane gives one last glare before walking out of the rv.

"Here take these. This will help with the pain."

"I'm fine. I ain't no pussy. Save that for someone who's dying." Noah says as he takes the ice from Dale. "Thanks for the ice." Noah's voice is rough, while his accent is even thicker. It's an obvious sign that his temper was still racing through him.

He walks out of the rv and makes his way to the woods. He needed the escape. If he didn't get out into the woods then there was a high chance that Noah would kill someone. "Hey, Noah, you know a lot. You think you could help me sort out the mushrooms I picked. Help me get rid of the bad ones." Noah takes a sharp inhale as he looked at the petite blonde beside him. Amy wasn't subtle nor innocent enough to have anyone not catch the hint. The pout of her lips, the cocking of her hips, the way she pushes her breasts out a bit. Noah knew exactly what it was she wanted. That was the one thing Noah didn't get from his father. He wasn't some pussy chaser. He could give less than a fuck about the women at this camp and care even less about sex. He had more important things to get done.

"Got shit to do." Noah grumbles, moving around Amy and making his way once more to the woods.

"Oh, but it'll only take a second." Amy makes the biggest mistake she could ever make. She touches Noah. Noah freezes as he feels her fingers wrap around his arm. He slowly turns to look at her, his blue eyes almost black with barely contained fury. He speaks in a soft-spoken, but rough voice. Anyone who knew Noah knew that that voice was a warning. "Get your hand off me. Now." Amy stares up at him with that same innocent face. Her eyes big and unblinking, her lips pouting, and her hand only tightening.

"I didn't mean anything-"

"Amy." Noah growls. "Let me the fuck go." Amy gasps at his sharp tone. His words shook with the effort to keep from punching the bitch right in the face. "Now!" Amy lets him go as if she half expected him to punch her. He wanted to. He really did, but he knew his dad would kick his ass if he saw Noah raise a hand to any women even this whore of one. "You touch me again and it'll be the last fucken thing you do." With that said, Noah took off for the woods, even more, ready to draw blood. It was fair to say Noah was officially done with today.

Everyone stayed clear from Noah as he moved passed them. He didn't stop moving until he had walked a good half a mile in the woods. He finally stopped and allowed himself to take in a much-needed breath. His still throbbing nose taking in the scent of the forest. He allowed to calm him and he felt his exhaustion finally kick in. He was running on very little sleep and he could very well just lay down in a bed of grass and drift to sleep.

Noah moves to a nearby tree, one with sturdy branches, and swung himself up. The second he got himself into a comfortable position he was dead to the world.


Tommy watches as his cousin stormed off. It wasn't surprising to see Noah angry. Noah was always angry. Mix that with the Dixon temper and you get a very violent Noah. Tommy was actually impressed when Noah didn't punch Amy. Tommy all but stopped breathing the second he saw the blonde touch Noah. He could practically feel the very tension and anger surge through Noah. Most days he would go after Noah, calm him down. While Harley only ever fueled Noah's anger and set him off, Tommy was always the one that could Noah down. Tommy, like his dad, was the sweet one. He had a way about him that made it possible to calm any Dixon. A gift that many of his family used to calm down the most explosive Dixon. Today though, Tommy knew Noah was way passed saving. It was best to wait until he cooled off before approaching him. Tommy would only get his lip busted or his nose broken if he went after him now.

"Is he okay?" Harley asks, her concern for her twin brother clear as day. Harley and Noah may often fight, but that didn't mean they didn't care about each other. Family was everything to a Dixon and Tommy have seen Harley lose her shit more times than he count over Noah. Harley and Noah were exactly alike, but they looked nothing alike. Noah was a Dixon through and through. He had the Dixon temper, the Dixon's cerulean eyes, the Dixon's chestnut hair, the same tall burly figure. Harley might have the temper, but she looked in every way like her mother. The same platinum blonde hair that fell in straight thick silk down to her butt. The same rich tan skin. The same small thin frame. The only Dixon thing she had for appearance was the blue eyes. Tommy couldn't very well say he was any better. He was in fact worse. He had messy raven black hair, storm gray eyes, and a thin willowy frame that was in every way his mother. He didn't look a Dixon at all, but when put next to his father no one ever questioned that he is Daryl's son.

"Are you going to go after him?" Harley asks, causing Tommy to glance at her.

"I'm gonna let him cool off some. No point in going after him when all it'll serve me is a fight."

"You think he'll be okay?"

"Yeah, he just needs to cool off. Give him some space." Harley nods, humming softly in response.

"I'll ask him later if he wants me to knock the bitch out."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate the offer, but I think Merle might have something else to say." Harley snorts and glances over at Tommy.

"Please, dad will back me up." Tommy shakes his head.

"Don't go getting yourself into any shit." Tommy makes his way towards his father who is sitting by the small campfire that they have by their camp, sharpening his hunting knife. "Hey." Tommy smiles, taking a seat by his dad.

"He good?"

"Will be." Daryl nods, his eyes going to Tommy, eyeing him over. Tommy stares him over in return, his thumb going to his mouth.

"You doing okay?"

"'M fine."

"Tommy you need to tell me if you ain't."

"I'm fine, dad." Tommy says with more instance. Daryl stares at him for a moment longer before nodding.

"Don't forget your meds, Tommy. And make sure to eat and drink something. You can't take them on any empty stomach."

"I know." Tommy pops two white pills into his mouth, accepting the bottle of water from his father, and draining it in a few big gulps.

"I need you around, Tommy. I can't be stuck with Merle and his mini-mes." Tommy snorts, a smile on his face. He can see the tension in his father leave him at Tommy's smile.

"Don't worry, dad. I ain't going anywhere."