A/N: This fic contains non-graphic descriptions of caniconally discussed physical, verbal, and emotional child abuse.

prologue.

The sun was sinking low over the horizon. Soon it would be dark out, and they had only begun stepping into the woods. Daryl shifted the crossbow on his shoulder, too heavy, but Merle insisted he'd carried the same weapon even before he turned Daryl's age.

"You gotta learn to look after yourself, little brother," he'd said. "Catch, hunt, defend."

When he'd said 'defend' the word came out with a faraway look Daryl couldn't decipher, but it still sent a shiver up and down his spine.

"It's dark," Daryl did point out. Obvious and stupid, but maybe Merle hadn't thought this through.

"Not for a while yet," Merle said. He briefly turned to look at Daryl, a few paces behind, over his shoulder. "And you gotta learn how to do this in the dark. That's when it's most important."

That made sense to Daryl. He kept walking, readjusting that damn crossbow every few paces as it became lead weight on his shoulder. Merle had two guns slung carelessly over his shoulder and hadn't slowed down one bit.

"Where are we going?" Daryl asked, trying hard to keep the breathlessness from his voice.

"Anywhere you can find something."

Damn. "And what if I can't?" He already knew the answer before it came.

"Then we keep going."

Deeper and deeper into the woods, until even if the sun had already sunk into the ground, the coating of trees made it too hard to tell. Only a few faint streaks of red-yellow light shone through.

"Daryl."

Daryl whipped his head back down to look at Merle. Merle nodded and Daryl's eyes followed the direction to where a deer stood, ears pricked and on high alert.

He yanked his crossbow into position, loaded a bolt, and fired. It missed of course.

"Daryl, you stupid shit!" Merle yelled as the deer bounded further into the woods. "You don't even know how to aim proper yet."

"Then what about all those lessons, huh?" Daryl threw the crossbow to the ground. He was sick of it, anyway. Always digging into his arm, his shoulder, his back.

Merle walked over to him and starred down, looking about ten times taller and a hundred times angrier.

"How do you think I afford that?" Merle said. He picked up the crossbow and sat it on his shoulder. It didn't look like it weighed anything. "And those lessons? Basic Crossbow 101, brother, and you didn't follow any of it!"

"I'm going back," Daryl said. He didn't have to stay here and listen to this shit. He was still good with a gun, hit the target every time, and how was a crossbow more versatile anyway? Waste of time.

Merle's hand gripped around his shirt sleeve and held him steady. "No you ain't. Do you think I'd waste my time dragging your ass out here if this wasn't for your own good?" He shoved the crossbow back into Daryl's arms. "Now try something easier."

It was fruitless to try and get away. Merle was faster, better. And he was right - he wouldn't bring Daryl out here if there wasn't a good reason. Daryl suppressed a sigh.

"Okay," Daryl finally said. "Like what?"

The smile that split over Merle's face made up for the stupidity of this whole ordeal. Merle wordlessly lifted his rifle into position and pointed it toward a tree.

"What do you see?" Merle asked.

It was too dark to see anything apart from the outlines of plants and trees, but Daryl kept watching. Bore his eyes right into that tree until he saw something shift on the bark.

"Yeah?" Merle asked. His voice stayed quiet, lifted only by the soft breeze around them.

"Yeah," Daryl said. As his eyes adjusted further, he could see that it was fluffy and grey. "Squirrel."

Merle lowered his gun an inch and shrugged his shoulder toward the tree and the squirrel. "Well, go on."

"What good's killing a squirrel?" Daryl asked. "One's hardly enough and it's too dark to find more-"

"Shoot it," Merle cut off. "We're not eating 'em. You're learning to shoot 'em."

The squirrel hadn't moved from it's position on the tree. Daryl wanted it to. He waited for a gust of wind to burst through the woods and send everything running. But that didn't happen.

"You've watched me shoot before," Merle said. His voice was still quiet, reassuring. That was odd enough that Daryl couldn't think of anything to say back. "Same thing here."

And what if he missed? Daryl swallowed and lined the crossbow up, one eye squinted and the other directly on the target. He'd kill this and then...and then what? He didn't know. Merle hadn't told him.

"Come on," Merle said. "Learn how to look after yourself. You gotta do that. For me."

Merle was just looking out for him. Like always.

Daryl took a breath and released the bolt. It scored right through the squirrel's body and was met with hollers of praise from Merle.

~/~

chapter one.

Merle was in juvie again.

Daryl wasn't sure the exact reason this time, but it was for either drug dealing or busting the teeth of that guy in town.

Daryl actually hoped it was the latter, because he wasn't prepared for some pissed off bikie to come storming up into the mountains and pick his revenge on Daryl. Daryl had seen the blue and black marks on his brother and Merle could fight; Daryl still hadn't learnt everything, still wasn't entirely prepared.

"Your brother's no good," their dad had said the night following the sentencing. Then, almost as an afterthought, added, "And neither are you."

It didn't hurt Daryl nearly as much as he thought it should, and life went on more or less the same despite the gaping hole that should have been filled with Merle and was still healing from the loss of their mom.

When their dad turned harder to booze, Daryl took to stealing ones and twos from the pockets of his discarded jeans and figuring out his own way to survive.

It wasn't like Merle had gone completely; his voice was still in the back of Daryl's mind, reminding him how long food would last in the fridge before spoiling and how to fix the septic tank when it decided to bust itself again. Most of all Merle was there telling him he'd be out soon, so don't worry, don't fret, and - above all else - don't leave.

::

"Hey baby brother."

Daryl cradled the phone closer against his ear and didn't even try to stop the smile that pulled hard on both sides of his mouth. "Merle."

"You sound so surprised," Merle said. "You thought I'd get killed?"

"No," Daryl said. Too quick. Rationally he knew Merle could look after himself, but he also knew Merle was a big talker who'd sooner cuss you out than sit by meek.

"It ain't my first rodeo," Merle said. "You coming down to see me this weekend?"

"Dad..." he trailed off. Merle could fill in the gaps. Since Dad hadn't been up the first time Merle was locked in the slammer, Daryl didn't know why his brother thought it would be different this time around.

"I asked if you were coming to see me."

Daryl snorted. "You think they're gonna let some kid in?"

"Prison's for keeping people locked in, not out," Merle said. "Tell 'em your parents sent you to be scared stiff outta getting involved with the wrong crowd."

Daryl could practically hear the air quotation marks around 'wrong crowd'. He and Merle were the people parents tried to keep their own kids from interacting with.

"I'll try," Daryl said. He took a moment and closed his eyes before adding, "But I'm not bringing you any drugs."

"Did I ask for you to?" Merle snapped. "Can't I just wanna see my brother?"

I don't know. "Yeah," Daryl said. "Sorry. I'll try and get there, okay?"

"Good." It was a false happiness Merle was putting on. Daryl knew that, but he'd take it. "You really think I don't miss being there?"

"No," Daryl said. "I mean yeah - I'm sure you miss being here."

"Three more weeks." That time it was real positivity. The counting down of the days. "And we'll finish up your training, okay?"

"Okay."

Just then the screen door slammed shut and Daryl jumped with it. The phone clenched tighter in his hand and Merle was saying something but it sounded far away.

"I gotta go," Daryl said, or at least thought he said. The words didn't really leave his throat or reach his ears.

Merle's voice still came through. It sounded concerned for the first time maybe ever. "Daryl?"

Daryl pressed the phone back into it's holder and stood up, walking further down the hall to where his dad was still tugging off his boots.

"You know what your no-good brother cost me?" his dad asked. He didn't wait for an answer; Daryl doubted he was even expecting one. "Doing fucking drugs all up and down Ashville. Got people riding my ass 'cause you and him can't control your fucking selves."

Daryl didn't think it would help any to remind his dad about the bags of white and pink pills stashed in the main bedroom, replaced even after the whole house went up in flames.

"Daryl!" his dad yelled. "You minding me?"

"Yeah," Daryl said. "You want me to get you money?"

The second boot was yanked from his foot and he stood up, walking over to where Daryl had stayed fast against the wall. He was almost taller than Merle, but not quite. The physical differences were appearing more and more each day, and Daryl was sure that, when Merle returned, he'd tower over his father. For both of them.

"And how do you expect to make anything?" his dad asked.

"Hunting," Daryl offered.

"Hunting?" His dad's face screwed up and came down even closer. Daryl could see every line, wrinkle, and blocked pore. "You don't know nothing about hunting."

"Sure I do, Merle-"

A hand came out and slammed against the side of Daryl's face, knocking his head into the wall. He bit down on his to tongue, tasting blood, as his head began to feel heavy and ring.

"You don't know nothing about hunting," his dad repeated, and this time Daryl just nodded.

::

Daryl stared hard at the fist-sized hole in the door of his room. There was an almost identical one in Merle's.

"You gotta learn to look after yourself, little brother."

That was enough to make up his mind.

::

It was colder out in the woods than Daryl had expected for late March. The denim jacket he had on was too small and tattered, second hand from when Merle got it and almost a decade older now. But the shoulders were still thick enough to take the brunt of the crossbow and stop it from digging into his skin. He'd decided to give hunting another go. A few other goes, actually - in the weeks since Merle had been gone, Daryl had made it habit to come out into the woods, just walking and trying to figure things out while he ignored the ache of angry red welts on his back.

This time he'd decided that he would find something - a deer, a squirrel, even a mouse - track it down, and be back in time to catch a ride in order to see Merle that weekend. At least he'd be better able to hunt by the time Merle came home - and he could make a little extra money on the side, help out a bit. Get their dad off their backs.

He steadied himself against a particularly jagged area of rocks and looked out over it. Down below was the rushing of a river and, further east, it offset and began to pool into a lake. He and Merle had camped out there before, on one of the first times he let Daryl actually try shooting with a gun. Eventually they'd just given up and gone fishing, catching nothing but snags and junk. Still, it was better than the alternative had ever been.

Daryl made his way carefully down toward the bank. There were deer prints embedded into the still-moist dirt, but he saw nothing as he shielded his eyes against the still-glaring sun. At least he had more sense than Merle when picking a time to come out here.

The river curved sharply and Daryl went along with it. The tracks came closer together until there had to be a group or four or five, depending on what way he looked at the trodden-over prints. They went up again, into the thickets of trees. Daryl followed. Maybe he'd find enough meat for the next few months.

::

He was further into the woods than he expected, judging by lessening sound of the river and darkening of the sky. He'd lost the deer prints a while back, and was now scouring the trees for signs of further life. At least until the toe of his boot caught on the edge of a sharp fall. There was that stomach-dropping, heart-lurching moment and then Daryl was facing dirt.