Author's Note: So I've been sitting on this story for the better part of a year, agonizing over the ridiculous plot and tearing my hair out over all of the little details. I wanted everything to be perfect and ready by the time I started posting it, but I have a bad feeling that if I don't post it now, I never will. Perhaps there will be enough interest in this story to keep me going and give me inspiration.

Some things to know: this story has some spoilers for the Survival Instinct game, which I am treating like canon. Some things may not be entirely clear in this first chapter if you haven't played the game, but fear not for things won't always be this murky.

This story an AU story, and is the beginning of a series that I haven't decided if it will be a trilogy or not. This first story is set in the world of the walking dead, but later chapters and indeed the second story will begin to hint at a crossover with another world. Stay tuned for that, but don't worry if you've no experience with that other world, it won't be necessary.

Other than that, enjoy!

"Angels surrender, killed in their tracks

Babies, women raped

Leaders on their backs

Prepare your Revolution

Is this the final solution?" – Revolution, Dr. John

If that stupid mutt didn't stop growling, Daryl Dixon was going to give it something to growl about. The noise wasn't going to help his headache any – not that anything really would. A firm knock to the skull with a lead pipe could do that to you. Still, he had no regrets really – the girl had lived after all. Given the choice between getting hit and saving a little girl's life, well there was no struggle to choose, was there? Daryl had always had a bit of a soft spot for kids despite all appearances to the contrary.

"What the fuck you starin' at old man? I told you I ain't givin' it up!"

Well, maybe she wasn't that little.

The tiny redhead with an attitude was locked in a staring contest with Merle, who had decided that since he'd helped save her life he was owed a portion of whatever was in her backpack. The dog and the girl didn't think it was a fair trade since she hadn't asked for their help at all. Daryl had been listening to the two argue for the last ten minutes. He pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, alright! Enough, already. Look, we're headin' out to either Baton Rouge or Columbia. You come with us, and we'll share supplies, alright? We'll shut Merle up, and get you to a Government Camp. That solve our problems?"

"No! Fuck off! Ain't going to some Government Camp!"

"And why the hell not?" Daryl shot a glare his brother's way. He'd wish he'd just shut his trap.

"Who do you think started all this?"

Oh hell, one of those.

She continued on, ignoring the fact that he was rolling his eyes.

"They tried to kill us! Fuck that."

Daryl gave a long-suffering sigh. "Okay. Fine. But what the hell ya gonna do? Can't survive on your own."

"Try me."

Her stubborn attitude was going to piss him off. She could give Merle a run for his money. If the angry german shepherd by her side wasn't built like a tank with teeth he'd almost consider just throwing her over his shoulder and shoving her into the truck he and Merle had acquired after they'd ditched the humvee. If they didn't come to some sort of impasse soon, he would have to leave her, as much as it didn't sit right with him. He'd done his part – the guys who were trying to rob her (and quite possibly worse) were either dead or long gone by now. She could continue on her way quite literally un-molested now. It wasn't like she was un-armed. Somewhere along her journey it looked like she had acquired a large knife and what looked like a police issued handgun – a .40 cal by the looks of it – not that it had done her any good. Still, she was a kid by all rights – despite her foul mouth – and the world was worse than it ever had been. Daryl knew she would have a rough go of it on her own, and would more than likely end up dead sooner rather than later. Her best option was to travel with him and Merle, at least for the time being. They could get her somewhere where her chances were better, and he and Merle could be on their way again.

At least, if he could talk Merle into it. Merle wasn't exactly a good samaritan at the best of times, but when it was, for all intents and purposes, "every man for himself," talking Merle into going out of his way for someone else was nigh impossible unless, of course, there was the promise of imminent violence. It had been hard enough to convince him to not just pass on by when they saw what was happening – Merle would have been more than happy to take that rather loud distraction as a blessing and hit the road.

Done with the conversation, having taken the girl at her word, Merle was looting the bodies of her attackers, shoving their half empty clips into his back pockets and even switching out his plain belt for one of their more fancy ones. Daryl shook his head. He'd never fully understand his brother's way of doing things. Glancing out the corner of his eye at the girl, he saw her scrunch up her face before returning it to a semblance of impassivity; he couldn't tell if she was disgusted by Merle's actions or if she was annoyed that she wasn't the one getting their shit.

Readjusting his crossbow on his shoulder Daryl looked around them, scanning the alleyway for any signs of movement. "Look," he started. "Been here too long already. Them geeks are probably already on their way – you comin' or not? I ain't gonna force ya, but I will tell ya yer an idiot to not join up with sum kinda group – Merle 'n' I or not. Seen a lotta tough people get taken down on their own – too many geeks swarmin' up on anyone'll take 'em out. What chance do you have?"

From the background he could hear Merle talking to himself, not quite under his breath. "She ain't got no chance. Leave 'er ass. Not yer fuckin' kid." Daryl ignored him, a feat that became more difficult by the day. The girl was squinting at him now, sizing him up.

"Why would I wanna go with you guys anyway? Young girl all alone with two grown men? Sounds like I'm just askin' for trouble." Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. If she weren't talkin' sense, he'd have been offended. She didn't even know the name "Dixon" and she was already judging them. He scoffed, out loud apparently, because she glared at him. "I'm right ain't I?" she asked.

"No, you ain't." He told her flatly. He cut to the chase, tired of going around in circles with her. He knew what she meant and he'd rather just get at the heart of the issue than play games with her. "Look Merle 'n' I may be a lot of things, but rapists ain't on the list. Maybe try a little gratitude, after all, that's probably what we just saved your ass from anyway!" He spared a glance at Merle who was now brandishing the lead pipe that had met his skull in the girl's direction.

"You think that once they took your shit they wouldn't drag you along after 'em for a lil' afternoon delight, missy? Daryl's right, we just done saved yer ass from somethin' nasty." He kicked at one of the men, right in the ass to emphasize his point before wandering down the alley a bit, checking the status of things and leaving Daryl to argue on his own.

The girl eyed him squarely. "Look, just 'cuz y'all saved me from them, doesn't mean you don't want the same privileges yourself. I mean that guy does want my pack 'n' all. " She raised an eyebrow at Merle. "What's to say he's not exactly the same as them?"

"I say." He hadn't realized it, but he had stepped into her space in his attempt to clear Merle from suspicion. He met her gaze as evenly as he could. "Look, don't know how many times I gotta say it – my brother and I, we ain't like that. Promise." He took a step back as she held up her hands, clearing showing him that she got it. He blew out a breath – the heat must be getting to him.

"The hell y'all wanna go to 'Baton Rouge or Columbia' for, anyway?" she asked, her tone slightly condescending.

"Like I said, FEMA camps. Merle ran inta some guys that said they might still be operational."

"What makes ya think they'll be any different than Atlanta?"

"I don't." Daryl informed her shortly. "I don't know nothin' about 'em, but havin' a plan – even if it ain't a great one – is better than not havin' one at all and driftin' around aimlessly." A twitch of the eyebrows and a slight shrug of the shoulders clued him in to the fact that she might be nearing to caving in. Behind him, Merle was getting impatient, gesturing at him to go. Daryl continued on. "Why?" he asked her. "Got a preference?"

She shook her head, busying herself by reaching out to that great wolf of a dog. She stroked its head for a moment before she answered. "Baton Rouge isn't an option."

"Columbia then."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"It's all the same. They're all big cities and they're all over-run. Learned the hard way, didn't we? Don't need to learn the same lesson twice."
Daryl paused for a moment, considering. "Well, if Columba doesn't work we can press on to the coast – put our backs to the ocean. There's fishin' and huntin'. Gotta be some settlement of some kind out there, eventually."

"Maybe." Her answer was hesitant.

"Look, ya don't even know how to use that gun, do ya?" She clenched her jaw and said nothing. "Like I said, ain't gonna force ya, but I ain't gonna leave without trying to do the right thing."

" 'preciate it." Daryl ignored the sarcasm in her voice. She started to say something else, probably about to tell him just how much she did know how to use that gun, but by that point Merle had approached them, no longer amused and very much agitated.

"Daryl! What the hell ya doin', son? Standing there all day flap-jawin' at some kid ain't gonna get us where we need ta be!"

"Tryin' to convince 'er to not be stupid. You ain't helpin'!"

"Ain't tryin' ta help. It's a bad fuckin' idea. We ain't takin' no kid with us."

The girl snorted. "See? He don't want me. Problem solved. See ya." Shifting her backpack on her shoulders, she made to get going. Daryl held out an arm in front of her, stopping her progress.

"We ain't leavin' 'er, Merle! No way! She's just a kid!"

"She ain't your kid is she? No! So it ain't your concern. She ain't even that much of a kid! Look at 'er! Hell back home she'd probably be married and poppin' out little ones by now. Now let's go, before the biters find us."

Deep down, Daryl knew there was some decency in his brother, but by his attitude it must have been very deep down at the moment. He wished he could stop being surprised every time Merle acted like this. He knew that the smart thing for the two of them was to just go and not look back and look after themselves, but he also knew that if he did that his conscience would eat at him. It wasn't like one extra person would doom them. And Merle had been right before; they could probably use whatever was in her pack since most of their supplies had been lost at Firesign Stadium.

"This ain't about the whirlybird is it?" Merle asked, pulling Daryl from his thoughts. Daryl grimaced at his brother's usual shrewdness. The loss of the people he'd been traveling with weighed on him heavily and Merle knew it– by all rights he should have been on that helicopter with them. If he had just said something before that door had closed, signaled the pilot to delay take off, anything, maybe they'd still be alive. Not that he knew they were dead for sure, but it still felt like they were, and while he may not have liked them all that much, it was still a helluva way to go. He sniffed, wiping the sweat off of his nose with the back of his hand. "What if it is?" he asked, challenging his brother.

"Jesus, Daryl!" Merle threw up his hands in exasperation. "Yer fuckin' bleedin' heart is gonna get us killed! Can't go pickin' up strays all the damn time! It's you and me little brother, don't need no one else."

Daryl toyed with the idea of telling his brother to be reasonable, but he figured pigs would fly before that would ever happen. Before he could find a way to make the new addition worth Merle's while, there was a slight clank behind them. In the same instant the dog's ears perked up and it whipped its head around to find the source of the interruption, both Dixons had raised their weapons. A trio of walkers were shambling towards them, knocking over more of those wretched lead pipes on the way. They were slow and their distance was still reasonable, but the message was clear. Its time to go.

He shot his brother a pointed look. "We ain't arguin' this. The girl's comin' with us – for now –" he added for her benefit " – and that's that." With what was a great mercy from above, Merle – while still visibly annoyed – chose not to argue, for once.

"Fine." He spat. "But here's the deal, I pick the next stop. Ya hear me, boy?"

"Fine," Daryl returned. "Let's go already."

Merle lead the way back to the truck, taking them through a series of alleyways, using his hunting knife to take out a few walkers on the way. Daryl took up the rear of the group, effectively sandwiching the girl and her dog in. He spared a glance behind them every once in a while to ensure that they weren't being followed. As they made their way, he couldn't help but notice how obvious the girl made it that she was watching their surroundings. She looked to her sides often, and even more often looked back at him or craned her neck to get a good look at Merle. It was bizarre, but he couldn't blame her – it never hurt to be too careful.

She paid particular attention to the graffiti that covered the walls of the alley, which had quickly become a statement on the state of the world at the moment. Daryl couldn't keep track of the number of "the end is very fucking nigh" tags, shitty spray paintings of geeks, and well-intentioned warnings he had seen covering the walls of all the towns he'd had the misfortune to be in, in the last few days. The girl gave a particularly disdainful look at one such warning – the word "quarantine" had been spray painted across the entirety of a wall, followed by a crossed out circle. Even Merle paused as he passed it, giving it a frown.

"We gonna stand here and play art critics all day, or we gonna get the hell outta here?" Daryl asked. It was enough to spur his brother back into action.

When they finally reached the truck she stopped short. Daryl walked by her, throwing her a disdainful look as he threw his pack into the bed of it as Merle climbed into the driver's seat. "What? You expectin' a limo or somethin'?"

"No!" she shot at him, a defiant look on her face. "Just…"

"Just what? We ain't got all day." He reminded her.

"It ain't a crew cab, that's all."

"You got a point?"

She raised her eyebrows and pointed down at the dog. Daryl realized the problem immediately. The single bench seat would not sit two grown men, a teenage girl, and a dog that, at best guess, Daryl would put at no less than a hundred and ten pounds.

"That's what the bed is for. Yer monster of a dog'll fit." He told her, scoffing at her offended expression. He lowered the tailgate and patted the metal. The dog wagged its tail so hard its whole damn middle wiggled. "See?" He told her. He patted the metal again, and the creature approached cautiously, sniffing the air around it before putting its front paws on the tailgate. Wrapping his arms around its back half, Daryl hoisted it up the rest of the way before securing it in. It may not have been ideal in her mind, but it was better than leaving it behind to become walker chow.

"What if –"

"If it jumps out its it's own damn fault."

Ten minutes later, the tension in the truck was palpable. They rode in near silence, the only sound the loud rumbling of the engine. The dog in the back wobbled about, unsure about the new turn of events. The window between the seat and the back was open, and it seemed that every four seconds the redhead was sticking her face out of it, trying to coax the dog to settle. As she attempted to reach her hand out to grab the dog for the fifth time, Merle finally snapped at her, barking out a "Girl, sit yer ass down and face front!" and sounding for all the world an exasperated parent. If it wasn't risking an all out fight, Daryl would have laughed with the absurdity of it.

"I'm just trying to make sure – "

"Yer mutt is fine." Merle snarled, leaning forward in his seat to see beyond a cluster of cars, before taking a left turn. The girl huffed at him.

"Don't worry about it." Daryl told her, attempting to smooth things over. "Like I said, if it ain't smart enough not to fall out…"

"Yeah, yeah," she cut him off sourly.

Peace restored, Daryl took that opportunity to look around them. He didn't recognize the area at all, not that he had been to Atlanta more than a handful of times. They were traveling in a different direction than Daryl had entered Atlanta in, and if he was right they were travelling further into the city.

"Where the hell we goin', Merle?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Like I said, got a stop I wanna make."

For the life of him Daryl couldn't think of anywhere in Atlanta they needed to go. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the answer to his next question, with Merle being as prickly as he was feeling at the moment. "And where would that be?"
"Don't worry about it Darlina. Just go along for the ride."

Enlightening.

Weaving their way through the ruins of the city proved troublesome. In the throes of panic that had engulfed the city, people had very inconsiderately left their cars everywhere, no longer abiding by things like lanes. Progress was slow, and their slow speed didn't allow for much of a breeze to help cool things down. The AC in the truck was broken.

Just their luck.

"You a rug-muncher?" Merle turned his head to appraise the girl. He raised his eyebrow at her, and looked her up and down.

"What?"

"You know…" Merle lifted his index and middle fingers up to his face, spreading them into a v before flicking his tongue between them. The girl rolled her eyes.

"And why would you think that?" She sounded fed up with Merle already. By Daryl's count she hadn't even known him an hour. He had to resist shaking his head at her in hopes that she wouldn't encourage him.

Merle smiled and pointed at her. "The hair. Only rug-munchers and cancer patients keep it that short. You don't look like you got cancer."

"Jesus what is it with men and thinking all women who keep their hair short are lesbians? What if some of us are just lazy and can't be bothered to brush it?"

The elder Dixon laughed. "I don't believe that for a second, missy."

"Why's that?"

"Yer a woman! All vain 'n shit."

She was facing Merle, so Daryl couldn't really see the look on her face, but her voice held some amusement as she told him, "you really have a way with words, don't you?" Perhaps this had been a bad idea after all, Daryl thought. Merle and the kid seemed to only fuel each other's amusement, and the bickering could only get more intense from here.

"I'm fuckin' loquacious." The grin on his older brother's face was insufferable.

"Yeah, yeah, you're a regular Charles Dickens. When's your next bestseller?"

Merle's grin became even wider. "Dixon, sugar."

"What? Is that a line? Because, I can't really be flattered, can I, with the age difference, and all…" Daryl wanted to slam his head against the window. This was getting horribly wrong, horribly fast.

"Cute." Merle informed her. "Merle Dixon, at yer service."

"I'm sure."

"Hey, now! Don't go gettin' all sarcastic on me, now."

"As opposed to the sincerity I've had up 'til now?"
Merle maneuvered the truck around a particularly nasty pile up. As they passed they could see the charred former occupants of the van in question. Earlier that morning Merle had told Daryl that he could swear he could still smell the napalm in the air. Driving through the city now, Daryl could actually believe him. He didn't think he'd ever get the image of Atlanta burning out of his brain.

"Speaking of sincerity," Merle continued once their self-imposed silence was over with the van comfortably in the rearview mirror, "we oughta start off our relationship right, with full disclosure."

"Okay… What do you want to know?"

"Yer name first of all. That's a good place ta start."

"I guess I can do that. Allie. Allison Murphy to be exact."

"Hmph." Merle frowned.

"What, you got a problem with my name now? You're damn difficult to please, you know that?"

Sparing her a quick glance, Merle turned his eyes back to the road quickly. "Never met an Alison that I liked," he muttered darkly.

"Well, maybe I can change that." It just figured that she'd be one all to eager to take up a challenge. She was a fool though, to take it up with a Dixon.

"Good luck to ya." Daryl interrupted. "Ma's name was Alison."

"What, no love for Mama Dixon?" Her question was met with a stony silence from both men. Sinking further down in her seat, Allie muttered, "I know the feeling."

They were silent for a while, picking up a little speed now that they had escaped the worst of the traffic snarls. Daryl idly wondered if Merle was taking them on the backstreets towards where he had entered Atlanta. His brother's path to the city was a mystery to him after their separation in Barksdale. If he was right they were headed south by way of the suburbs. The dog in the bed of the truck thumped its tail against the sides and whistled shrilly through its nose, no doubt happy to get more air.

"Goddamn german shepherd whistle." Allie turned around in her seat and called out the window, "Dodge, I swear to God, if you don't stop that noise right now I'll turn you into a tasty distraction!"

Daryl couldn't help snorting when the noise stopped.

The shadows on the walls of the surrounding buildings had grown long by the time Merle had slowed down and pulled into a driveway. He cut the engine, but didn't move to open the door immediately, opting to take a careful look around first. Satisfied, he gestured to Daryl. "Get yer shit , son."

"What?"

"You heard me, get yer shit."

"What the fuck is this, Merle? Where the fuck are we? What the hell we doin'?"

"Get outta the truck, Darylina. You'll see."

Grumbling, Daryl did as he said, Allie following behind. Merle had already slid to the ground, and was popping the tailgate, before grabbing a fuel canister. Dodge hopped to the ground immediately, Allie wincing as he did so. "Careful!" she called after him, but he was off and running, so to speak, his nose working overtime as he sniffed at the slightly overgrown lawn.

Looking around, Daryl still couldn't figure what they were doing here. As far as the eye could see suburban homes nicer than anything Daryl had ever even stepped foot into abounded. Besides the lone geek now trudging their way at the far end of the street, there was little of note, and certainly nothing that looked useful. There were still a few hours of daylight left, so he felt certain that Merle didn't aim to spend the night here. Approaching his brother, he shot him an annoyed look. "You gonna explain what we're doin' here anytime soon?"

Merle merely raised an eyebrow at him and began feeling around the edges of the garage. "Ah! Here we go!" He pulled out a small black box that had been attached to the trimming and opened it. Pulling out the remote to the garage he made an exaggerated show of crossing his fingers. "Here's hopin' the damn battery has some juice left." He pressed a button and the door responded with a loud creak, protesting heavily as it began to open.

The first thing Daryl saw was Merle's wretched Bonneville Triumph. He hated that damn thing, so of course they had to go back for it. "You brought us all this way for the fuckin' bike?"
"Hey man, best watch yerself!"

"Jesus, Merle!" He kicked at a nearby paint can in frustration. His brother could be a damn selfish bastard.

"Don't get yer panties in a wad, little brother," Merle placated him, "I got'cha a lil present too."

"Yeah? How'd that work out last time?"

"Pretty damn well considering you've taken down a couple dozen walkers with it." He retorted. Daryl hated to admit that he was right. Despite how shitty that situation had been at Jake's bar, he had ended up with his old crossbow back.

"Whatever," he grumbled irritably. "What ya got up yer sleeve this time, Merle?" His brother pointed, and as his eyes settled upon the object that Merle was no doubt indicating, Daryl felt his blood pressure rise.

"Is that my goddamn truck?"

Merle nodded smugly. "Yup."

Daryl sputtered for a moment before picking up the object nearest him, a can of WD-40, and chucking it at his brother's lump of a big head. "YOU ASSHOLE!" he shouted, as his brother ducked. "You told me that it got STOLEN. HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE IT IS, IF IT WAS STOLEN ASSWIPE?"

He had been angry when Merle had come to him, two days out of his latest stint in jail a year ago and told him that he may have, perhaps, gotten Daryl's truck stolen by leaving the keys in it and not locking the door before going into the bar. That was nothing compared to the rage he felt now. Daryl had spent years restoring the truck, and had put a lot of blood, sweat, and love into that machine. He'd had that truck since his early 20s, and had saved up a lot of money for it so that he could follow Merle's footsteps with the bike and have something that was purely his own. He'd been devastated when it had been stolen. He didn't talk to Merle for weeks.

"I may have lent it to one of the guys at Jake's for some cash." Merle held his hands up to still his little brother, as Daryl tore his eyes from his baby and fixed them on him. "I needed the money real bad, needed ta pay someone off…"

Daryl snorted. "Needed it fer drug money more like."

"Hey, now!" Merle warned. "I always intended on getting' 'er back, I just ended up back in county before I could."

He'd had enough of his brother's bullshit for one day. "Fuck you," he shot without much venom in his voice as he made his way to the door, and finding it unlocked opened it. The damn keys were sitting in the ignition.

"We betta hurry," Merle informed him, as he started fueling up the bike from the canister. "The geeks will be all up our asses 'fore long." Daryl glared at him. He'd have to inspect the truck later.

"What's the plan, then?" He grunted.

Merle thought for a moment while he searched the garage. "Get outta Atlanta, get ta the outskirts and regroup there. See how far we can get." He made a noise of approval when he found what he was looking for – the small ramp that would allow him to drive the bike into the bed of Daryl's truck.

Daryl nodded and moved out of the garage. There were now five geeks in the road, and the girl and the dog were eyeballing them nervously. He gave her a low whistle. Perking his ears up, Dodge wagged his tail. Allie made no move, intent on watching the street.

"Let's go kid!" Daryl called. Dodge stood, wagging his enormous body again and slamming it into his owner, who finally turned to face Daryl.

"Time to go?" she asked.

Deciding to ignore her stupid question, Daryl gestured to the garage. "Got a new ride. Climb in."

His truck wasn't any better in terms of housing the dog, Daryl thought as followed Merle, pulling out of the driveway and making their way to the highway, but at least they would have air conditioning now, and that would have to do.

"But oh!

Your city lies in dust, my friend…" – Cities in Dust, Siouxsie and the Banshees