A/N: this is a small chunk of an idea I've been playing with, a crossover between The Walking Dead, Supernatural and The Boondock Saints. I don't have the energy to write it right now, so: chunks every now and then. This one is Merle/Andrea centric.

A/N 2: I'm not American (hell! I'm not even English mother tongue!) sorry for not reproducing Merle's accent, I tried and it didn't work!

A/N 3: There's no Michonne, not because I don't like her, just because I haven't read her yet and I don't know her character and I would have written her OOC unintentionally. In this universe Merle saves Andrea from the walkers in the season finale.

Disclaimer: I don't own the shows and the characters; I'm simply madly in love with them and this is my awkward way to show it!

Night watch

Sleep had always evaded Merle and now, without his pills, his war nightmares were back in full force; sleeping in the crammed camper van wasn't helping either, but there was no other way: their journey north was taking more time that planned and winter had arrived. Sleeping in the cars or setting camp meant death, besides they were constantly on the move, they couldn't spare time to put up the tents and then remove them, plus being together meant more body warmth for everybody.

Merle stood up and carefully headed for the door, fuck warmth, fuck the walkers and fuck winter, he needed out! Merle turned his head and made a headcount (this was one of the many imprints war had left on him, he instinctively controlled if all the members of his group were with him), and all the motherfuckers were in: Lori was sleeping on the lower cot with her hell spawn clutched against her growing belly, Officer Friendly was sitting with his back against the small ladder to the upper cot; Merle could outline Carol's silhouette up there, her whole body curled around the young mongrel she and Daryl had adopted. Speaking of the devil, his pantsy-ass-brother was winded into a ball on the small table under the window, hugging his crossbow. Dean was in the middle of the floor, spooned around Ariadne, who was clutching her axe; Castiel was sitting against the bathroom door, his baseball bat between his splayed legs, the MacManus twins (those creepy fucks, if you ask him) were shoulder against shoulder, both their heads thrown back, Beth was at their feet, a big blanket on her. Near the door Maggie and Glenn slept curled together and on the farthest corner, old Hershel was snoring. Peggy, Ariadne's Golden Retriever, was sitting in front of the door, her tail wriggling. Cautiously Merle dodged the bodies, patted the dog on her big head and opened the door; cold wind cut his face and he clutched the pink anorak tight and drank from the flask he kept in one of the pockets. He could hear the rustle of Andrea's blanket as she stood up to control his movements, he was tempted to flip her bird, his own way to say "Hello!" but desisted from doing so and decided to climb the ladder; he had to admit to himself that he couldn't be alone with his memories.

He reached the top of the camping van with difficulty, those were the moments he missed his hand, he used to be faster than this! Andrea acknowledged his presence with a nod; he could hardly outline her face and the rifle she had in her hands into the darkness. Feeling generous he offered the flask, she must be freezing and her watch wasn't done yet; surprisingly she accepted the offer and coughed at the strong flavor in her mouth

"Gotta be careful with that thing sweetheart. Ain't no thing for beginnigers"

"I'd drink gasoline to get warm Merle".

Since he had saved her after the fall of the farm, she had been less snarky towards him; they weren't friends (he wasn't friend with no one, he could get along with Ariadne and Daryl, when he wasn't busy being a pantsy ass around Carol, but friendship wasn't an option) but she didn't wear that disgusted expression around him anymore. The fact that she was fully capable to take care of herself was a big pro, he hated weenies with sheer passion.

"Be on watch sucks" Merle broke the silence "Always hated that".

Andrea turned her head; Rick had never allowed Merle to do watch, he didn't trust him even though he wasn't on drugs anymore. Rick justified this decision with Merle being one-handed. Truth to be told, he was afraid the redneck would slaughter all of them in their sleep. Merle didn't care, he didn't want to be an asset for the group, be one of them, he knew his place and it wasn't into the inner circle (like his little brother pretended for himself), he belonged to the outskirts. He found nothing wrong in that; being the renegade had saved his life more than once, and even maimed as he was, he could easily survive on his own. He had a plan for when this journey was over: punch Officer Friendly and then made a place of his own into the woods, far away from those motherfuckers.

"When did you do watch?"

For a brief moment Merle thought he had imagined the question; he debated internally on whether to answer on not, the wind howling in his ears

"Vietnam".

Andrea was startled by Merle's voice; she thought he hadn't heard her

"My dad was there too. Sometimes he was like he had never truly got back".

The wind screamed between them, covering the silence, cutting their faces with icy fingers

"I was sent there".

His words fell in the cold, if he wasn't mistaken, a big snowfall was coming. Andrea shivered and adjusted the wool hat on her head; they couldn't go on like this, they needed a real shelter for the night: an abandoned motel or an empty gas station. Anything but the camping van in the middle of the highway.

Andrea took another swing, the whiskey fueling her

"Why?"

Merle took the flask and drank, he didn't like remembering. Sometimes it was like Vietnam was the only thing he could talk about and think of. A sudden crave for his pills hit him and he had to look at his stump to calm himself a little; pills had handcuffed him on that roof (still, he was going to punch Officer Friendly and the nigger) and the withdrawal had almost killed him a couple times, bringing walkers to his hiding point. He couldn't afford doing drugs right now, maybe when they journey was over he could start cooking meth again.

"Robbed a liquor store, judge made me choose".

He was a nineteen years old boy with a big criminal record and no desire to be in a cell for years, he had no idea of the hell he was going to face. It had been far worse when he returned back home, if he had really made it, his head was always in the jungle, even now he was there.

"I used to wake up and go to the kitchen to drink some milk when I was a kid" Andrea got closer to him "Back home we had the living room on the right side of the stairs and the kitchen on the left. The first time he scared me, he was sitting on the couch without the lights on and the TV set on mute. I could hear this clicking sound; at first I didn't know what it was, I was just scared by it and I ran to my room. When I was under the covers I realized it was dad's gun, he was cleaning it, in a dark room. It gave me the chills. It happened again, I was thirsty and he was there, that time I went to the kitchen and drank my milk, then I returned to the staircase and sat down to watch him. He put his gun together and disassembled it countless times, like he was some kind of automaton. I fell asleep on the stairs that time and he found me in the morning."

"I did that too" Merle had no idea why he was opening to Andrea "Didn't work for me".

She said nothing, he expected her to pity him, to give him all the shit people usually reserve to folks like him, but she didn't. She took the cushion on her chair and put it on the roof of the van and gestured him to do the same, then she covered both their bodies with the two big blankets she had. There was no sexual tension in her acts, no innuendo. Besides, this world was far too dangerous to have sex in the open. Andrea didn't hug him or put her head on his shoulder, she just stayed there with her left arm near his, the rifle against the right side of her body, her eyes scanning the darkness

"The next Sunday we went fishing and dad told me he had nightmares sometimes and cleaning his gun helped him. He said I didn't have to be scared, he also told me how sorry he was, because he had been harsh with me, without a reason. He said it was the nightmare, but they wasn't a justification" Merle did some noncommittal sound "They don't authorize you being ass, too!" and she nudged him with her elbow, half-smiling.

Merle blamed it on the cold and the risk of attracting walkers that he hadn't put her in her rightful place; he loved being an asshole to those people, he had always been a nasty son of a bitch, why change now?

He hastily took the flask and drained it; look what happened to him, he had been in strict contact with them: he was becoming a pussy like his brother! Talking with Sweet Tits, opening to her like a fag. He moved to get up but she caught his elbow

"I was kidding Merle"

Was she smiling? He couldn't tell, the stars didn't shine enough to enlighten the inky darkness enveloping them.

"I knew" he gruffly answered.

She must have sensed something was off, because she left their shared warmth to grab something near her chair. The wind was howling madly and he could not grasp a sound of what she was making. She came back shivering, holding a carton of beers

"I know the rule, always higher never lower, but I only found this in Castiel's secret stash"

"You looked in the wrong one"

"There's another?" he could imagine the surprise on her face

"Try anothers. The guy has some serious shit hidden" her laugh was stolen by the wind, he smiled and proceeded to open the beers.

They didn't speak for the rest of the watch, sharing a comfortable silence. It became their habit: when Andrea was on night watch, Merle would steal some liquor from one of Castiel's stash and share with her. It didn't make his nightmares go away, or soothe her pain, but time flew and the cold was bearable. It was enough for both of them.