Only Blood

The amusement park stretched out before us, a graveyard of twisted steel and faded memories. I followed Daryl’s lead as we stepped through the broken gates, the once-welcoming entrance arch barely standing.

Rust and ivy devoured everything in sight. Vines wrapped around the skeletal remains of a rollercoaster that loomed in the distance, its tracks buckled and sagging. A carousel stood frozen mid-spin, the painted horses locked in an eternal gallop. Their glass eyes gleamed dully beneath the pale light of the morning sky.

“Well,” I murmured under my breath, the weight of it all pressing down on me. “This isn’t where I expected to finally end Negan.”

Daryl kept walking, his eyes sharp and scanning every corner like the rides themselves might lunge at us. His crossbow rested loosely in his grip, but I knew better than to think he wasn’t ready. Daryl was always ready. “Yeah... His idea.”

The ground was filthy, littered with scattered debris. An overturned popcorn cart rusted in the dirt, its once-bright red paint now a dull orange. Torn banners hung limply from bent poles.

We waited, crouched low behind the warped steel barrier of the old bumper cars. The once-colorful carts sat abandoned, half-buried in weeds. It smelled like rust and wet earth. My knees ached against the cracked concrete, but I didn’t move.

Daryl was still, his jaw clenched tight. He hadn’t said much since we arrived, he didn’t have to. I could feel it radiating off him - that coiled tension, like he was waiting for something to snap.

Trusting Dwight with our lives was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

Then, in the distance, the low growl of an engine cut through the silence.

I saw it first - an old, rusted truck rolling past the broken-down concession stands. The engine sputtered as it pulled to a stop.

Dwight.

The bed of the truck held a motorcycle, a quick escape option should he need it. He killed the engine, but he didn’t get out. Not right away.

“Here we go,” I murmured, observing how tight Daryl’s knuckles fingers curled around the crossbow.

We waited. Seconds stretched. Dwight finally opened the door, climbing out nervously. He scanned the park, his face twisted with the kind of tension only possible in a situation such as this. He was afraid. He should be.

Daryl rose first, his movements steady and deliberate. He didn’t raise his crossbow, but he didn’t lower his guard either. I followed, staying just a step behind him. Dwight froze when he saw us. For a moment, none of us spoke. The only sound was the creak of a rusted sign swinging in the breeze.

“Do it,” Daryl growled, as we neared Dwight, his eyes burning into him.

Dwight's hands twitched at his sides, like he was wondering whether to change his mind. But then, slowly, he pulled a walkie from his belt. I could see it in his eyes - the flicker of doubt. He was scared of Negan. But I could also see something else. Regret.

“Now,” Daryl said impatiently.

For a heartbeat, Dwight didn’t move. Then he pressed the button. His voice came out hollow. “It’s Dwight. I’ve got something at the amusement park ten miles out. You’re gonna wanna come see this.”

The static crackled. Then that voice.

Low. Amused. Twisted.

Negan.

“That so? Better be worth my time, Dwighty boy.”

My stomach tightened. His voice made me feel sick. The kind of voice that slithered under your skin, mocking and dangerous.

I felt Daryl stiffen beside me.

“It is,” Dwight answered.

Another pause. Then, “I’ll be the judge of that.” Before the walkie went silent.

Dwight lowered it, his hands shaking. I didn’t miss the way his fingers clenched it like it might somehow protect him. But nothing would. Not if he crossed us.

Daryl’s voice was poisonous, dark. “If you’re lyin’…” He trailed off, but the unspoken words hung heavy.

There ain’t gonna be a next time.

“I’m not,” Dwight said quietly. “I want him gone.”

I still didn’t know if we could trust him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But Daryl had a plan, and him - I trusted more than anything.

“Won’t come alone.” Daryl muttered, turning to me, but not fully taking his eyes off Dwight. “Gotta get ready.”

The two of us moved quickly, disappearing into the shadows of the amusement park, leaving Dwight waiting for Negan’s arrival. The faded lights of the Ferris wheel towered above us like a sad monument. The rusted skeleton of the rollercoaster twisted in the distance, swallowed by vines. The wind whispered through the empty booths and shattered stalls, the ghost of laughter still echoing somewhere deep within the bones of this place.

But there wouldn’t be any laughter today.

Only blood.

We were going to make sure of it.

~

Daryl and I stayed low, our bodies pressed against the splintered wood of an old shooting gallery booth. From here, we had a clear view of the park’s cracked, overgrown pathways.

As we heard the faint sound of an engine approaching, Daryl surprised me with a brief kiss, like he couldn’t resist doing it one more time – just in case.

“I love ya.” He said firmly.

“I love you.” I told him back.

A truck came into view. Black, dirt-caked, and hulking like a predator. My heart started hammering as we watched it approach from our positions, readying our weapons.

The crunch of tires on gravel set my teeth on edge as the vehicle entered the park, drawing closer to Dwight. To us.

He was here.

Daryl’s crossbow was drawn and ready, as was my gun. We’d waited for this. Every agonizing second spent in that shack, every uneasy breath in the dark - it all led to now.

The truck’s engine sputtered as it rolled to a stop just in front of Dwight. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on. Daryl didn’t move. Neither did I. Not yet. We’d only get one chance.

Two burly men exited the vehicle first - broad, silent, knives in hand - Daryl was right about the Saviors being out of ammo at Hilltop... There was no other reason they wouldn’t have their guns.

This was good.

Negan climbed out slowly, scanning around. Even in the overgrown wreck of the amusement park, he made sure to stand like he owned the place. The smile on his face - that damn smug grin - made my stomach twist. And then there was his stupid bat, gripped tight in his hands. It’s barbed wire gleaming.

The sight of him made me grit my teeth.

I hated him. I fucking hated him.

The way the Saviors flanking him carried themselves riled me up even further - like they thought they were untouchable. Like the air shifted for them.

Negan tapped his stupid fucking bat against his boot like a king surveying his domain. And in his mind, that’s exactly what this was, just like everywhere else.

His kingdom. His rules.

Or so he thought.

He dragged his eyes over the park, the worn leather of his jacket creaking with every step. “Well, would ya look at this?” He swept his arms wide, like we were standing in some grand attraction. “Boys, I think we found ourselves a little trip down memory lane.”

Dwight plastered on a forced grin, the one that never quite reached his eyes. “You ain’t gonna believe this boss,” he said, his too light voice carrying through the empty lot.

Negan chuckled, stepping closer. “Well, hot damn. That better mean something good, Dwighty boy.” He licked his lips. “Dragging me out here to this dump?” He glanced at the two men with him – their knives gripped, both scanning the ruins like they expected the shadows to bite. “If this is a waste of my damn time, well, you know how that’s gonna go.”

Dwight nodded, hands twitching at his sides. “It ain’t gonna be.”

My stomach knotted tighter. Daryl’s eyes flicked to mine, just for a second. A silent confirmation. I gripped the gun in my hands, the cool metal grounding me. We’d planned for this. Dwight played his part. Now it was our turn.

Negan took another step forward.

We didn’t hesitate.

The twang of Daryl's crossbow split the air. The bolt flew, clean and fast. It hit the Savior to Negan’s right before he had the chance to react. A gurgled cry escaped his lips as he crumpled, the sound barely louder than the rustle of dead leaves.

At the same moment, I stood from cover, gun already leveled. My shot rang out, sharp and unforgiving. The Savior on Negan’s left jerked back, a dark bloom spreading across his chest. He hit the ground hard at the exact same time as the other idiot, his knife clattering uselessly beside him.

That part was over in seconds.

Negan spun, his bat still in his hands, his face twisted with something I couldn’t quite name - shock, maybe. Rage. But before he could move, Dwight had his gun aimed at him.

Negan’s grin faltered just for a split second. He flicked his gaze between Dwight and the weapon, that calculating gleam flashing behind his eyes. “Well,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement despite it all. “Ain’t this somethin’?”

Daryl stepped forward, crossbow trained dead on Negan’s chest, I was right by his side, my gun raised. My hands were steady. He wasn’t getting out of this. Not this time.

Negan’s grin widened sickeningly as he looked between us. “Well, ain’t this just precious?”

But Daryl and I weren’t wasting time with the bullshit speeches you see in movies - where the antagonist spouts self-indulgent crap when they should just get the killing over with, usually allowing the target time to get away.

Negan wasn't getting away.

Daryl released his bolt. Negan ducked, throwing himself back behind the truck. I shot at him repeatedly as he did so, Daryl released another bolt at the same time, but Negan was too fast. He was out of sight.

Dwight was closest, and with shaking hands, he released one bullet, two, three, four, five, six as Negan never stopped moving, running from behind the truck to take cover behind the carousel.

Dwight’s gun clicked. He was out.

He looked furious with himself.

Negan's voice came from the distance. “You really think it’s that easy, Dwighty boy?” A menacing chuckle. “And to think, I was going to make your backstabbing ass my second in command."

Daryl and I were moving, heading in the direction of Negan’s taunting voice.

We found him still standing tall behind the carousel.

The tension in those moments was like a living thing - coiling, tightening. Daryl’s crossbow stayed leveled on Negan, the gleam of the bolt like a promise. But Negan didn’t flinch. His grin was gone, replaced by something more dangerous. Calculating.

“You two really think you’re the heroes here, huh?” Negan’s voice was low, mocking. “Comin’ in all righteous - judge, jury, and executioner. I mean, shit. I’m flattered.” His hands twitched around his bat, but before Negan could move, Daryl let another bolt fly.

The asshole twisted just enough. The arrow grazed his side, tearing through leather and flesh. He stumbled, clutching his ribs. A growl of pain escaped him, but he grinned through gritted teeth.

“That all you got?” he spat, moving backwards quickly toward a rusted rollercoaster track.

Daryl didn’t answer. He fired again.

The second bolt shattered against the metal side of the track. A miss. My stomach clenched.

It wasn’t like Daryl to miss - ever. But the mere sight of Negan had him shaking with rage, plus Negan’s snake-like movements made him a difficult target. The man moved like he was made of liquid.

Daryl’s face stayed stone cold, but I saw the flicker in his eyes.

He fired one last time. Empty.

The click of the empty crossbow felt deafening. Negan’s grin widened.

“Well,” Negan gave a mockingly sympathetic shake of his head. “Ain’t that a bitch.”

My hands tightened around my gun. But then a sharp click echoed through the air. My chest tightened. I'd fired too many times already. I was empty.

Negan’s eyes flicked between us. “Now that’s a damn shame.” He laughed, the sound infuriating as he clutched his side. “But hey, now we can have some real fun Daryl..." His eyes flicked to me. "Then I’ll be makin’ that pretty little wife of yours my own.”

Daryl didn’t wait. He threw his crossbow aside, the metal clattering against the asphalt. His boots pounded forward, and then he was on Negan.

The impact was brutal. Daryl’s shoulder slammed into him, knocking him back. They hit the ground hard, a tangle of limbs and fury. Dust kicked up around them as Daryl threw the first punch - a savage right hook that sent Negan’s head snapping to the side.

I froze. Every instinct screamed to help. But I didn’t move.

This was Daryl’s fight now and I knew it.

“Don't you fuckin' look at her!” Daryl snarled, his fist connecting with Negan’s face again. Blood spattered across the pavement.

Negan grunted, his hand lashing out, grabbing Daryl by the vest. He twisted, slamming Daryl onto his back. The air left Daryl’s lungs in a harsh gasp. But he didn’t stay down.

“You think I’m the bad guy, Dixon?” Negan sneered, blood dripping from his split lip. “You think you’re any different?”

Daryl drove his knee into Negan’s gut, rolling them over again. His fists rained down, one after another. “I ain’t nothin’ like ya!”

Negan laughed through the pain. His face was swelling, but he grinned anyway. “I save people.”

“Fuck you!” Daryl roared, slamming him down again.

Negan’s laughter twisted into a growl. He bucked beneath Daryl, flipping him over. His hands locked around Daryl’s throat. Daryl’s fingers clawed at Negan’s grip, his face turning red.

I took a step forward, instinct clawing at me to interfere.

Dwight moved at the same time.

“No,” I barked, throwing my arm out to stop him.

He froze, eyes darting to me. “He’s gonna kill him!”

"No. He’s not." I shook my head, though my chest ached with fear. “Daryl needs this.”

Dwight’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t move any further.

Negan’s hold on Daryl tightened, his teeth bared. “You know,” he grunted, “I liked you, Dixon. Real shame you had to go and piss me off.”

Daryl’s face contorted with effort. His legs kicked, and with a fierce grunt, he twisted - reversing the hold. He slammed Negan’s head against the pavement with a sickening thud.

“Shut up,” Daryl growled, his hands tightening around Negan’s collar.

Negan spat blood, his laughter weaker now.

Daryl hit him again. And again. Each punch felt like it reverberated through me. Negan’s face was bloodied and swollen, but still, he grinned. “Can't kill me... I’m a goddamn cat.”

Daryl’s fists rained down over and over, the sound of bone meeting flesh reverberating through the abandoned amusement park. Negan’s laughter finally died down, replaced by wet grunts and ragged gasps. But still, Daryl didn’t stop.

I stood frozen, the distant creak of a rusted Ferris wheel groaning in the breeze. Dwight lingered just behind me, his eyes flicking between Daryl and the mangled figure beneath him. His feet shifted like he wanted to jump in, but I shook my head.

There was no stopping Daryl now.

Negan had pushed him too far.

Daryl’s face twisted with buried rage. Every swing, every blow, was months of suffering unleashed - the loss of Hershel, Abraham, Denise. His captivity. Negan ordering his men to kill me. Our baby.

“This what ya wanted!?” Daryl seethed, his voice raw. He grabbed Negan by the collar of his jacket, dragging him up just enough to slam him back against the cracked pavement. “Huh?!”

Negan sputtered blood, his smile mangled but defiant. “Bet your wife thinks you're a stand-up guy right now, Daryl,” he choked out. “My man shot her real good, huh?”

Daryl paused in disgust for half a second, but then his fists clenched tighter. “She was pregnant!” He cried out, not bothering to hide his emotion.

Dwight's gaze flicked to me, looking surprised, maybe sympathetic.

I ignored him.

Daryl drove his fist into Negan’s face again. And again.

The pavement beneath them darkened with blood. Negan’s head lolled to the side, but Daryl still didn’t stop. His knuckles were cracked, smeared crimson. Every breath he took was ragged, but he kept going. A low, guttural sound escaped him - somewhere between a sob and a growl.

I wanted to move. To reach out. But I couldn’t. I knew this wasn’t something I could stop. Maybe I shouldn’t stop it.

Negan was dying. And I wasn’t sorry.

Dwight shifted beside me, uneasy. “He’s done, Dixon,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. “He’s already dead.”

But Daryl didn’t hear him.

“She,” Daryl snarled, the word breaking free like a curse. Another punch. “Was.” Crack. “Fuckin’.” Blood splattered with every word. “Pregnant!”

Negan’s face was unrecognizable now, swollen and pulped. His body jerked limply with every hit. Daryl’s strength was failing, his shoulders heaving, but he didn’t stop. Not until the sickening sound of bone against bone finally gave way to silence.

The world went still.

Daryl knelt there, his bloodied hands trembling. He stared down at the lifeless form beneath him, chest rising and falling with shallow gasps. Negan’s empty eyes gazed up at the grey sky, his twisted grin gone. There was no satisfaction in his death. No victory. Just the weight of everything he’d done.

Daryl’s hands fell to his sides. He didn’t look at me. Not yet. His shoulders slumped, his knuckles dripping. For a long moment, none of us moved. The distant creak of the amusement park rides was the only sound.

Finally, I took a hesitant few steps forward. I dropped to my knees beside him, reaching out. My fingers brushed the blood-matted strands of his hair as he stared blankly at the ruin of Negan.

Slowly, Daryl’s head turned toward me. His eyes, glassy and pained, searched mine. The anger that had consumed him moments before was gone. All that remained was exhaustion.

“It’s done,” I murmured, though the words felt empty.

Daryl gave a single, small nod. I moved and wrapped my arms around him from behind, and I held him, the heat of his body trembling against mine. Blood smeared across my arms, but I didn’t care.

His body didn’t relax. He didn’t move or speak. But it didn’t matter. It was over.

Dwight lingered nearby. He didn’t say a word. His gaze remained fixed on the lifeless corpse of the man who had once ruled us all.

Negan was dead

He couldn't hurt us anymore.

A/N: Sooo, major plot divergence. I loved Negan's character, but I could never get on board with Rick letting him live after everything he did.

Besides, Daryl was never going to let him away with what he'd put Athena through.

Hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to know your thoughts. ❤️