Scraping.

It was a sound that haunted Glenn's dreams. Not the moans, although Lord knew that those were bad as well. No, it was the scraping, the slow dragging of leaden, half-dead limbs across concrete. It was akin to the modern day version of nails on a chalkboard, the sound of exposed bones scratching against the sides of cars and buildings. It was this that would jolt Glenn awake, heart galloping, a scream dying on his lips as he realized that he was still in his tent, that he wasn't surrounded by geeks. The only way he survived it, the only way that he hadn't just snapped and shot himself was because, when it was in his dreams, Glenn could escape from the scraping. He could wake up and if he focused hard enough before he shut his eyes again, he could dream of days gone by, where his only priorities had been delivering pizza and hitting on girls.

But this; this wasn't a dream. This was all too real.

One minute, everything had been... well, sane. They had been picking their way through the labyrinth of cars blocking the highway, fingers stroking triggers, eyes peeled for stray Walkers. He had been with Daryl, stepping over debris and bodies alike with nonchalance, both looking ahead for signs of trouble. To be honest, Glenn had been more concerned with how hot it was; even for Georgia, the day was a scorcher, leaving sweat to drip into his eyes. While he was wiping it away, he had smacked into Daryl, who had turned around with a racial slur on his lips.

Then they'd both seen Grimes coming towards them, his already pale face devoid of all color.

"Quick, under the cars!"

That was when Glenn heard the sound. It echoed up the highway, blocking out even the sound of his terrified breathing. He couldn't see the Walkers yet but they were coming; dozens, maybe even hundreds of them from the amplified scraping penetrating his ears. He couldn't move; every single last of his nightmares was coming to life, bearing down upon him and he was absolutely paralyzed.

He never thought that he'd say it but thank God for Daryl. The man practically tackled him, shoving him under the nearest car before crawling under himself, cursing once under his breath before falling silent. For a few seconds, the sound seemed to fall away and all Glenn could hear was Daryl's breathing, seemingly as loud as a freight train in his ears.

Then the scraping came back as a roar, surrounding Glenn on all sides, piercing his brain. He wanted so badly to just curl up into the fetal position, to slam his hands over his ears and pretend that he was a child again. He had never felt fear as intense, even when him and Rick had been wandering the streets of Atlanta covered in guts. At least then, they'd had an escape plan but if one of them made a noise, if one of the kids whimpered a little too loudly, they were all going to die.

He was terrified. His body was trembling so hard that he was almost certain he was going to jitter right out of his skin. Beside him, Daryl seemed just as calm as ever, breathing slowly, eyes open and flicking back and forth. Up to this point, Glenn had been staring straight ahead but now he made the mistake of turning his head slowly to the right. Lori and Carol were two cars away but in between, all he could see was legs and feet, all gray and maggot ridden, somehow still managing to walk. Pairing the action with the noise somehow made it even worse; as he heard flesh scraping against concrete, he could see someone's bare heel dragging along the ground, leaving skin behind.

That did it. Against his will, a scream bubbled up Glenn's throat but even while he was thinking that they were all dead, a hand slammed over his mouth, effectively cutting off any sound. Glenn glanced sideways, one tear leaking from his eye. Daryl merely glared at him in response before slowly closing and reopening his eyes. Glenn got the hint and shut his eyes, letting his forehead rest on the hard concrete. Daryl's arm was heavy around his neck but it was almost a comforting weight; it was odd but, even though he could still hear the sound inches from his ear, as long as his eyes were closed and that weight was on him, he felt safe. For the first time since everything had gone to hell, he actually felt completely and utterly safe.

He didn't know how long he laid there, breathing through his nose, unable to smell anything but the rich musk of Daryl Dixon. The flow of Walkers was starting to slow to a trickle and eventually, they completely stopped. Even then, although Glenn flicked his eyes back open, neither man moved from their position. If anything, Daryl's arm seemed to tighten slightly, pulling Glenn closer to him. It was only when Glenn realized that he couldn't really breathe that he pulled away, sucking in a deep breath through his trembling lips.

"Jesus kid, you nearly-"

"Thanks Daryl," Glenn whispered, cutting the other man off midway. For a moment, Daryl's face stayed twisted with irritation before slowly morphing into a weird combination of smile and smirk.

"You're welcome, I guess." Glenn couldn't help but wonder why the words sounded so strange, yet so good coming from Daryl's mouth and he realized after a moment that he was staring. As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't.

Sophia's scream split the tension like a railroad spike and Glenn had no more time to think about the incident until that night, when he was reclining in the front seat of the RV, waiting to fall asleep. He could just barely see Daryl standing outside by the guard rail, taking first watch even though he had just barely gotten back from searching for Sophia with Rick. In the dark, Glenn thought that he could see Daryl's head swivel towards his general direction, but he couldn't be certain if it was reality or wishful thinking. To be honest, it didn't really matter to him.

He had no doubt that the dreams were going to come that night; it was almost guaranteed after the events of the day. But, as he took one last long look before shutting his eyes, he had a feeling that he wouldn't have to imagine the time before to get himself back to a safe place where sleep was within his grasp.

All he would have to do was remember the feel of that arm around his neck, of the warmth of Daryl's body so close. That was all he needed now.