Alright guys what's up? This is a new little pet project I was thinking about, I wanted to give it a try and see what you guys thought. This is a walking dead/bloodborne crossover. It will employ some unique ideas, that I haven't seen in the limited walking dead crossovers yet. Let me know what you think, as I said this is just a pet project so expect updates to be sporadic at best.

Pairings: Strong Daryl/Beth. Then, Merle/Carol, Rick/Lori, Glenn/Maggie, others if I feel like it


Daryl holds the spirit of a hunter. For his whole life, he's dreamed of a nightmare, a world much worse then even a one filled with walkers. Sophia, Dale, T-dog, Lori, Merle, Hershel, Beth... After so much pain and loss, Daryl starts to believe it's best to just give up. Maybe it'll be like his dreams and he will escape this nightmare. Before he can do it though, his past life as a hunter of Yharnam comes rushing back. He remembers the nightmare, and all that he suffered through, and he also remembers his ascension, his defeat of Gehrman and the Moon Presence. He suddenly realizes that this world of the walking dead, is just like the scourge of the beasts. When he reopens his eyes, he finds himself standing before a roadsign, and he hears the words of a ghostly voice, "Well brother, let's get goin'." What will the world be like, with a Daryl who knows the future, and knows of the past. What will he do now that the tools of a hunter have been returned to him, and he's regained the time needed to save those that he loves. And more importantly, why is he human again? And what is that whispering at the edge of hearing. He knew deep down that he wasn't human, he was one of the great ones, so why, was he in this mortal shell?

Cliches/Warnings: Strong Independent Daryl. Hunter Daryl. Great one Daryl. Hunter tools in walking dead. Lemons. Limes

Fear the Rotting Blood

Chapter 1

Daryl Dixon moved silently through the forest, he had found deer track about a half hour ago. He hoped he would find a buck, that would really be something to raise the spirits. Of course knowing his luck that damn thiny was probably already being eaten by a walker.

Daryl took another step and heard a loud boom in the distance, the boom of thunder. A storm was closing in. He'd have to get back soon.

It had been about three days since they left Terminus. Since they lost Beth. The thought still stung at him. Just the thought of that bullet tearing through her skull, ending her life… it was too much for him. Daryl felt his knees weaken and he had to stop and lean against a tree for support. Why did she have to die? Damn it all… Beth was far to perfect for this world. She was to good for it. She was an angel walking through hell, with a worthless scrub like him. He blamed himself for her death… if only he hadn't lost her in the first place. If only he had been more careful. But he wasn't and because of him, she was taken to that fucking place. The place where she lost her life. Daryl knew Maggie blamed him. He didn't hold it against her. She was hurting and she needed someone to blame. It was his fault after all, if he had been more careful with her, kept her closer, she wouldn't be dead now.

Daryl's heart clenched in his chest… he had tried to protect her, tried to keep her safe. He kept telling himself after she had been taken, that when he found her, he would tell her how he really felt. She was to perfect for a guy like him. An Angel. She was far to good, to ever love a worthless redneck like him. But he was still going to tell her. Tell her how she drew his gaze. How her presence pushed back the nightmares. He'd noticed it a long time ago, back on the farm, after they had all moved into Hershel's house. Whenever he'd talk to her, or spend any amount of time with her, that night there would be no nightmares, only happy dreams, usually of her. She made his nightmares go away, and he loved her for that. But he never got the chance to tell her, and now… he never would.

Ya know… as he leaned against the tree, feeling tears build in his eyes, he wondered how this fucking world of death and misery could ever have been worse then his nightmares.

Ever since Daryl was little he had, had nightmares. Terrible dreams of a world of monsters. A city of twisted spires, and living nightmares. The scourge of beasts. He had those nightmares all the time… they were never very clear, but he always remembered them perfectly. His father despised him for waking him with his constant screams. His dreams were so horrible, and he would remember the pain of being attacked. A claw gouging out his insides, a dog like muzzle clamping down on his shoulder, a giant wielding a brick, slamming it into his skull. Dogs biting him. Mutant birds pecking at his neck and stomach. Alien monsters using magic to try to kill him.

Daryl hid it well, but after those nightmares, his fear of death, and the dark, and monsters… it all went right out the window. His father's beatings did nothing to him. Sure they left their scars, but it was nothing like the pain of being burned alive by a giant flaming dog, or having your brain sucked out by a tentacle-faced abomination.

He thought back to the group at camp, they were all getting hungry and needed food. He offered to hunt… but he couldn't focus. He wondered idly if the storm would be bad, if maybe it would claim his life and free him from the nightmares of this waking world. Daryl hung his head as tears drifted down his face. He only really had three people left now, that he truly felt something for, Carol, Glenn, and Rick. Everyone else he had ever cared for or loved was gone. He had failed so many people… Sophia, Dale, T-dog, Lori, Hershel, and now Beth.

As he thought of those failures more tears fell from his eyes, and he felt the temperature drop sharply. Rain started to fall as another crack of lightning pierced the air, followed by a bone rattling boom. He suddenly felt his hand gripping at the grip of the handgun in his waistband.

If he died right now… would he reawaken, like he did so often in his dreams? He didn't know… he thought about those back at camp… they needed him… but he didn't know how to help them anymore. All he ever did was fail them, he wasn't a leader, he couldn't protect them, he was just a hunter. He brought them food… but Rick could do that. He had taught Rick how to hunt, and Rick would teach others. He knew they'd be fine without him. He couldn't stay here anymore… Beth was the only thing that made the nightmares bearable in this hellish world… now she was gone. Daryl felt the gun in his hand, felt the barrel press to his temple.

He wanted this to be over… if was to hard. No matter what he did… he always failed them. If only he could go back, and stop himself from making all of those stupid choices. If only he could save them…

"You can." A smooth voice stated.

Daryl's eyes snapped open. There standing before him was a ghostly familiar sight. A figure clad in black leather. A long dark duster, and dark leather pants, with a mask covering it's face. It wore a feathered cap, one he recognized as the cap of a hunter. In his right hand, he held a familiar weapon, the Burial Blade, the weapon of old Gehrman, in his left he held what looked to be an old Flintlock pistol.

Daryl wondered for the briefest of moments if he had fallen asleep. If the nightmares had claimed him once again.

"Not this time. I'm afraid." The man stated, answering his thoughts.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl finally asked as he aimed his pistol at the figure.

"A memory… but one you needed." The hunter replied as it slammed the end of the Burial blade onto the folded pole on his back. The pole extended and the blade took it's scythe form. The figure slowly advanced as it slid the pistol into a holster on it's side.

Daryl remembered this from his dreams. He remembered old Gehrman, and his attempt to free them from the nightmare after slaying Mergo's wetnurse. Daryl, had a good idea what the hunter was going to do with that scythe.

"You gonna kill me?" Daryl asked as he lowered his pistol. He had already accepted death, at least this way, he might get to meet Beth in heaven. Suicide was never a good option, but it was looking mighty tempting a moment ago.

"Yes. And no. I cannot free you from the nightmare. But… you don't want to truly be free, do you? You want to change things… and you must. She wasn't meant to die. And you can save her this time… you can save them all. You will remember this time. Remember the dreams, remember this nightmare. Remember the walkers, and Yharnam. This time… you will awaken as a hunter. No… this time… you'll be something more." The hunter stated as he placed the scythe at Daryl neck.

"What do you mean?" Daryl asked, knowing in his heart that this was to good to be true. Knowing his luck he was probably dead already. Or a walker. Maybe this was what they thought of while they shambled around, trying to eat people.

"You know… this time… don't neglect your past. Find what you need, and fulfill her desire." The hunter answered.

"What? Who's desire? The fuck are you talking about?" Daryl asked, getting a little frustrated.

"Haha… awaken, Daryl Dixon. You are one of the Great ones, do not let this nightmare conquer you. You are greater then it. The scourge of the beasts, we survived so long ago, was a much greater task then this. So go and fulfill your desire, and remember the old blood." The hunter replied and then with a swift motion, the hunter swung the scythe back, and then forward.

Daryl's eyes snapped shut, knowing this was his end. However, he felt no pain. He only felt a warmth. The rain had been freezing cold, and yet now… he was warm… and dry.

"Hey brother… Let's get goin'?" Daryl heard a voice. He opened his eyes to see himself standing before a roadsign, it stated that Woodstock was about ten miles down the road. Daryl's eyes then shifted over to where he had heard the voice.

He almost started to laugh, as he saw the grouchy face of his brother staring back at him.

It only took a moment of staring at his brother, before Daryl Dixon did something he hadn't done since before the nightmare of dead, began. He started to cheer and holler and laugh.

"The fuck happen, to you?" Merle Dixon asked, as he watched his brother cheer like he had just kicked the winning goal in a soccer match.

"Holy Shit… that son of a bitch did it! I'm back..." Daryl stated as ran ran his hands over his face and hair. Both were shorter, and more trimmed. Just another ounce of proof that it wasn't the apocalypse yet.

"Okay… what the fuck did you take, and where can I get me some?" Merle asked as he watched with slight amusement at his brother's antics.

"Oh dammit Merle, you don't know how fucking happy I am to see you brother." Deryl stated happily as he enveloped his brother in a bone crushing hug.

"What the fuck is wrong wit you? And get off me! Dixon men don't hug." Merle shoved him off and gave him a confused look.

Daryl stared back at his brother for a moment, still grinning like an idiot, before Merle's words settled in and he remembered his situation.

"Where the fuck are we?" Daryl suddenly asked, he knew where they were, and he actually remembered when they were to. This was just before the apocalypse began. Or at least this was before he had heard anything about it on the news.

"Kay, seriously, the fuck are you on, boy?" Merle asked as he shook his head.

"I don't fuckin' know. The fuck did we do yesterday?" Daryl asked, in reply. But he did remember what they had done, and they had actually been in a bar fight. He knew they had also, had there truck stolen and were walking into Woodstock to talk to a friend of Merle's to get a new one.

Daryl knew they had about three weeks till they started hearing about the dead on the radio, and started to see them on the streets.

Merle just gave him a look before slapping him upside the head and turning to continue down the side of the road.

Daryl simply chuckled and followed after him. He was positively giddy to be here. And luckily Merle would just write this off as some drug induced episode. Good ole Merle.

From there things continued just how Daryl remembered them. A few hours later, he acted like he was 'coming down' from whatever he was on. Merle gave him a tongue lashing for taking something, that he didn't know what it did. Daryl took it just fine. He was just happy to have Merle back.

That night Daryl, dreamed of Yharnam. Though this time the dream was clear. He remembered the blood ministrations. He remembered awakening in the clinic. He remembered getting eaten by the scourge beast, and awakening in the hunters dream. He remembered fighting the cleric beast and Gascoigne, and then… he woke up.

The next morning Daryl sat in bed, in the motel he and Merle were staying at. He was thinking of what the hunter, his past self, had said to him. 'Fulfill her desire, and remember the old blood.' he had no clue who 'her' was. However… the hunter did only show up after Beth had died… so maybe? Then of course there was 'remember the old blood' he knew that was a trade off of the Byrgenworth adage of 'Fear the old blood.'

He knew why he needed to fear the old blood. If used in large quantities, you'll become addicted and then turn into a beast. But then again, if used in mild quantities such as only when injured, it is actually a damn miracle, as it can heal pretty much any injury. If it had just stayed at that, then the blood ministrations would have stayed a miracle. But the people got greedy. They started to want the blood even when they weren't hurt. They started drinking it, more then even alcohol.

As he was sitting there, Daryl began to wonder… could he create the blood? He could just barely remember from a few of scattered dreams, that the old blood was blood mixed with the blood of great ones. But… he was a great one wasn't he? He couldn't remember.

From there things continued. Every night Daryl would dream more of Yharnam and the scourge of the beasts. Each night he got further and remembered more. It was a week before he and Merle would first notice the walking dead, when he began to wonder if he could experiment with creating his own quicksilver bullets. One day while Merle was out, Daryl took a tiny piece of silver from their stash of stolen or pick pocketed jewely dipped it into a small shotglass he had put some of his blood in.

He had hid the glass and let the ball sit their for several hours. When he returned all of the blood was gone. and to his immense surprise and satisfaction, it now look to be covered in some sort of liqued. He had to wonder if he created quicksilver bolt tips would they do anything to a walker. Eh he had it, if he needed it.

Still with those thoughts he sat back and contemplated the future. It would still be a few months before he and Merle finally met the old group out in Atlanta. Until then, Daryl would let things play out normally. Though he would definitely be working on Merle's attitude, the last thing he wanted was for his brother to be chained to that damn roof again.

Daryl shook his head and stood as he heard Merle entering the apartment. He knew it was time to go. They were going to be heading home. 'Only one more week' Daryl thought. Only one more week until the nightmare for him, began again.

-To Be Continued-

Alright what do you guys think? I just had this idea yesterday and wanted to get it out there, let me know how you like it.