A/N: I come from a family that has had it's fair share of illegal activities, drugs, abuse, etc. Aside from my baby brothers, who are still underage, I'm the only person in my immediate family who hasn't been in jail or rehab. The person I'm closest to in this world is my older sister, who, despite whatever run-ins with the law, or drug problems she may have had, has taken care of me and been there for me whenever I needed her. So, when I watched this show and grew more and more attached to Daryl and Merle, I understood why. Everything in recent episodes got me thinking. I was looking at facial expressions and over-analyzing reactions the Dixons had when talking about each other to different people. I must confess, I get pissed off when people go off about Merle. Yes, he's a racist drug using abusive asshole, but he's also Daryl's brother, and the way they talk about each other makes me feel like there's more going on in that redneck piece of shit than he lets people see. Even though my sister isn't a redneck racist, the way she is toward me reminds me of the way Merle reacts toward Daryl. So, I decided why not try to come up with little stories, going into their relationship more? I don't see Merle as a heartless dick. I see him as someone who doesn't care about much, but what he does care about, he'd give his life for, and I hope I'm not the only person who sees him like that.
This is just going to be a collection of random little stories. The chapters will not flow into each other, they're just going to be short little one-shots. I'm not sure how many there will be, and many of them will have nothing to do with anything ever mentioned in any TWD episodes. Just a warning. Thanks for giving this a shot
"Get off of me!"
Knuckles hit his jaw. It was a feeling he never got used to, but he endured it, waiting for the perfect moment to strike back, and he found it when the boy who was pinning him down looked up at something. Daryl swung his fist as hard as he could, hitting the older boy in the jaw and stunning him just enough for him to make his move to get out from under him. He pushed the boy onto his back and jumped on top of him, punching him again. He saw his own blood drip onto the boy's throat, but tried not to think about how bad he might be injured.
"There ya go, Daryl!" He looked up, making the same mistake his opponent had, and only managed to see Merle for a split second before a fist hit under his left eye. He fell back and was once again pinned down.
"You're fucking dead, Dixon." The boy began punching him in the stomach and Daryl cried out, trying to stop him. He gasped when the punching stop and the hands grasped his throat and began squeezing. He began kicking and looked for his brother.
"Don't look at me, boy, you got yourself into this, get yourself out." He shook his head. "Don't go givin' up or he's gonna kill you, Daryl. You don't wanna die, you better kick his ass."
"As if he could. He's more of a fucking pussy than you are." The boy said.
"I'll take what's left of you when he's done." Merle said calmly.
"Get ready, then, cause he's almost do-" Daryl gathered his strength and delivered one swift kick between the boy's legs, making him let go instantly. He rolled onto his side, gasping for air.
"You ain't got time for breathin', dickface! Get him!" Daryl put his whole body into another swing, knocking the boy back, then jumped on him. He held his breath and hit him over and over again, fearing that if he stopped, he'd be pinned again. He felt tears filling his eyes as he got lightheaded and he took a deep breath, hitting one more time before he felt his brother's arms wrap around his waist and lift him up. He kept swinging his legs, trying to kick the bloodied body on the ground.
"Let me go! Let me fucking go! I'm gonna kill him! I'm gonna fucking kill you!"
"Whoa, bud, we gotta get outta here or you're gonna get hauled in. Come on!" Merle put him down and grabbed his shirt collar when he tried to return to the boy. "No! C'mon!" He pulled Daryl, knocking him down, then lifted him up to his feet. The two of them ran, Daryl limping slightly. The pride hadn't set in. The only thing going through Daryl's head was anger. He was mad at his brother for pulling him away, but he followed him because he knew if he didn't, he'd get his ass kicked, and he'd been hit enough. Merle stopped running a couple minutes later and Daryl caught up to him, gasping for breath. "Lemme look at you." He grabbed Daryl's chin, making Daryl wince. "He got you good, didn't he?" Daryl turned his head away.
"I got him too."
"Yeah you did. You did good, kid. Fucked yourself, though. Dad sees this, he's gonna be pissed." Daryl looked up at him, fear in his eyes. If there was one thing he feared, it was his father's anger, and the man had made it clear that he was sick of his boys getting in fights. He said it made the family look bad, as if his drinking and drug use didn't do that on his own. Daryl's mind ran in circles as he followed Merle back home to the doublewide trailer they lived in.
"What do I do?" Merle looked at him. "Dad's gonna beat me." Merle shook his head.
"We'll keep you outta sight for a bit. Let you heal up before he sees you, then we'll tell him you fell in a ditch or somethin'."
"Not really a smart idea, is it, Merle?" They looked and saw their dad smoking a cigarette, sitting on the ground next to an old truck he'd been fixing up. Daryl instinctively moved behind his brother, who put his arm out to shield him. It didn't do any good. Their father slowly approached them and stood in front of Merle, staring him down. Merle lowered his eyes and put his head down. Their father shoved Merle aside roughly and grabbed Daryl by the chin, forcing him to look up. Daryl closed his eye and kept his mouth shut as his dad examined his face. "You gonna lie to me about this? Say you wasn't fighting?"
"No, sir."
"Merle was going to, wasn't he?" Daryl looked at Merle and his dad jerked his face back to where it was, making Daryl cry out. "Don't look at him, I'm the one talking to you."
"I was going to lie to you." Merle said. Daryl felt his heart drop, and kept his eyes on his father, knowing better than to disobey his father twice. His dad let go of his face and turned to Merle. They stared at each other for a minute before their dad looked back at Daryl.
"You were fighting." Daryl nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"I told you not to." Daryl nodded and his father was quiet. "You're in bad shape. I can't really punish you, can I? Might end up in the hospital, then I'd be the bad guy, wont I?" Daryl stared at him, unsure of what to say. "I don't want to have to hurt you. I don't even want to punish you, I want you to learn. And since I can't teach you the usual way, I'm gonna try something else." He turned to Merle, who kept a stoic expression. "I'm gonna punish Merle, Daryl." Daryl felt himself about to cry and Merle shook his head at him, warning him not to. He fought back the tears. "You're gonna go home. You're gonna take a shower and go to bed without dinner. When your brother gets home, I want you to remember why he's in the shape he's gonna be in. Because you didn't listen. And that's gonna be on you." Daryl nodded and watched as his father grabbed Merle's arm and took him toward the woods. He looked at Merle's hand, which gave a subtle thumbs up as he walked away. Daryl took a couple steps backward before turning around and heading to the trailer.
He shared a small room with Merle, which had one full sized bed. The fake wood panel walls were covered with a variety of different magazine clippings, many of which included nudity that Daryl probably shouldn't have been looking at, considering his young age, but it was normal for him. Their bathroom was tiny, with a toilet and a small tub. The only sink was in the kitchen. He went into the bathroom and carefully cleaned himself off, washing the blood out of his hair. The warm water stung, but he endured it and dried himself off before putting on a pair of clean boxers and getting into bed. It took two hours for his brother to return, and he kept his eyes on the wall he was facing, listening to his brother rustle around in the room behind him. He was scared to turn, and it was so hard to keep from crying that his body shook slightly. He heard Merle let out a barely audible moan as he slowly sat down and he sat up and turned to him. It was impossible to keep from crying when he saw his brother's face. He wouldn't be able to leave home for at least a few days. It wasn't out of the ordinary for the Dixon boys to be beat up, considering their short tempers, but there was no explaining the shape Merle was in. A wave of guilt and fear washed over Daryl and he wiped his swollen eyes.
"I'm sorry." He said, sniffing. Merle shook his head.
"No more fighting." Merle said. He sounded exhausted and Daryl nodded. "I shouldn't be letting you get in those situations. You're too young anyhow."
"Okay." Merle slowly reclined and closed his eyes, flinching.
"Go to sleep. We ain't talking about this anymore, it's over." Daryl put his head on the pillow again, wiping his eyes once more. "Anyone fucks with you again, you get me. That piece of shit from today tries to get back at you, don't fight him, just run. You're fast, you can get away from him."
"But I-"
"Don't fucking argue with me, Daryl. Why is it so fucking easy for you to do what I say when I tell you to do bad things, but when I steer you right, you fucking argue? Listento me!" Daryl cowered and nodded.
"Okay, I'll run." He said timidly. Merle looked back at the ceiling and Daryl resisted the urge to wipe the blood off the side of his brother's face. Neither of them said another word, and eventually they both drifted off to sleep. They didn't discuss the situation again, and from that day on, Daryl knew better than to come home or ask for his brother's help if actually got into a fight. Many nights were spent away from home, healing up enough so he wouldn't get smacked around for disobeying his father and brother. If there was one thing he learned from that night, it was that his actions affected others, not just himself.
