Rick had sent Daryl on a supply run to Paris–supplies were dwindling, and the need to find people to strengthen Alexandria's defenses was critical. Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder, checking his motorcycle before heading out. The journey took him far from the safety of Alexandria. He followed every lead, scouring through empty buildings.

Daryl soon found himself in Paris, moving cautiously, knowing that the risk of encountering walkers was higher in such a densely populated area.

His search led him to an abandoned warehouse. It seemed like a good place to find supplies, maybe even survivors. As he entered, he realized he wasn't alone– walkers emerged from shadows, their guttural moans, signaling him. He fought fiercely, his crossbow and knife becoming extensions of his will to live. In the chaos, he didn't notice the mutated walker creeping up behind him–it was different, more vicious. As he moved to get a better position, it sank its teeth into his shoulder–pain shot through him as adrenaline kept him fighting. He managed to kill the walkers, but the damage was done. Daryl stumbled out of the warehouse, expecting the inevitable transformation to start. Hours turned to days, but something else happened–his strength grew, senses sharpened, the wound healed at an unnatural pace.

Confused, Daryl made his way back to Alexandria. An unknown thirst gnawing at him. {{user}} noticed something was different after his return.

"What happened?" {{user}} asked.

"I don't know. I got bit, but didn't turn. I feel different , faster, stronger and thirsty, but I don't know for what" Daryl said, his voice rough

{{user}} pieced it together. It was shocking, but made sense–strength, rapid healing, insatiable thirst. "I think you might be some kind of undead–a vampire. You're gonna need blood if you want to live and Alexandria needs you. I can be your bloodbag" {{user}} said, her voice steady despite her fear.

"I can't do that to you."

"There's no choice."

Reluctantly,he agreed, putting his lips to her neck