Chapter One. Sister, Sister

Two years ago...

"Hayden, please!" Daryl Dixon stared across the front yard at his sister, her eyes red from crying. She was clutching her favourite backpack on one hand, and the keys to her small hybrid car.

Merle had teased her to no end the moment he saw the small car – Merle always preferred loud souped-up trucks – but left her alone eventually.

"Why, Daryl? Why do you keep on defending that... that monster?" she cried, her hair whipping in the wind. "I've had it, Daryl! I can't stand being in the same house with him!"

Daryl sighed and dropped his gaze to the ground. Hayden and their dad had another row, one that escalated pretty quickly – then again, whenever their dad was involved in a fight, things always went out of hand – and ended with Hayden with a busted lip and an angry red slap mark on her cheek.

Daryl had efficiently restrained their dad as Hayden had rushed to her room and threw most of her things in her trunk, leaving only a few clothes, a picture of the three of them on Hayden's tenth birthday, her wallet, and her keys. Daryl's heart nearly stopped when she had returned to the kitchen – their dad passed out from all the vodka Daryl had been passing to him for the past half hour – and saw Hayden all ready to go.

"He's our dad, Hay," Daryl said softly. "Please, don't go."

Hayden could see the pain in Daryl's tone for she visibly softened. But a second later Daryl saw her expression harden, and she shook her head fiercely.

"I'm sorry Daryl, but ever since Mom died he's been treating us like shit. I can't do this anymore." Hayden started towards him, but thought against it. "I'll call you."

Daryl began to ask if she was going to visit Merle, who was in prison for drug possession – again, Daryl thought – but stopped himself. Of course she would, she loved her big brother fiercely, despite being eerily like their dad.

Except Merle would never hurt Hayden the way their dad normally did.

After what seemed like ages, Daryl nodded. "It's for the best, I guess. He won't have to hurt you anymore."

"Thanks Daryl."

Daryl looked up just in time to see his sister get into her car and slam the door shut. Despite the tinted windows, he could still see her tear-stained face. In spite of himself, Daryl felt a tear slide down his cheek.

It's better this way, he reminded himself. Hayden deserves a better life than the one she has with me and Dad.

Present Day...

Daryl stared at the burning pyre that held the remains of Sophia Peletier. After weeks of looking for her, he and the rest of the Atlanta survivors found her... inside the barn along with the other walkers. Needless to say, Sophia's mother, Carol, was beyond devastated.

Daryl remembered Carol telling him that what she feared the most was seeing Sophia as a walker. Unfortunately, her fears came true when Sophia stumbled out of the barn, a visible bite mark on her neck and her eyes milky white. Daryl had barely restrained her from running to her daughter, and it was Rick Grimes who ended Sophia's suffering. Daryl could see guilt and regret on Rick's face; he, after all, was the last person to see Sophia alive.

He left her alone in the forest!

Carol's previous statement echoed in Daryl's brain. In a way, he couldn't blame her. Sophia was the only person left to Carol, and to see her child killed before her very eyes...

Daryl shook his head and walked away. Carol had refused to attend the solemn funeral for her daughter, saying that her darling daughter was not the decaying corpse they had found.

Daryl let her be – he could only imagine the grief she was feeling right now.

Scratch that.

He knew exactly what Carol felt; his fears that his older brother and younger sister were dead flew back to him in full force. Merle was on an excursion in downtown Atlanta when he and another of the Atlanta survivors, T-Dog, had a brawl that resulted in Merle being handcuffed to a pipe. Hayden, on the other hand, hadn't contacted him since the zombie uprising.

Daryl could vividly remember their last conversation together, where Hayden had announced that she and her banker boyfriend, Nathan, were engaged.

"I'm so happy, Daryl," she had gushed over the phone. "I really hope you and Merle come. Have you received the invitation?"

"Yeah, we did," Daryl had replied. In fact, the fancy invitation was lying open on the table in front of him as they spoke. "Merle isn't too sure he's going to come, you know him."

"Oh." Hayden's chipper tone became somber, and Daryl could imagine her shoulders drooping. A second later though, she was back to her cheery self. "Well I hope you can come, Daryl. Nathan has heard so much about you, and he can't wait to meet you two."

"I'll see if I can leave early," Daryl had promised.

"Well, I'd better get back. I love you, Daryl," she had said.

"I love you to, Hay," Daryl had replied, a second before hanging up the phone.

Hayden. How he missed her. Daryl wished his sister were here with him; in a way, he understood why Merle liked having her around. She was a constant and soothing presence in both their lives. Unlike other people, she never scolded them for their mistakes, believing that it was all part of life. When either of them ended up in jail, she was the one who bailed them out with her own money. When their mom died, Hayden learned how to cook, clean, and take care of three grown men. In turn, he and Merle were there for her when she went to her first high school prom (Merle drove her to school and Daryl stood watch as the guys fought for the right to her first dance), for her college graduation (although she never got that advertising job she wanted in New York, she did get work at the arts and crafts store near the mechanic store where he worked), and even for her driving lessons. But most of all, they were there to protect her from their dad's drunken rages.

Even at seventy Frank Dixon still drank himself to sleep, smoked pot, and watched porn on a daily basis. And most of the time Hayden was on the receiving end of his drunken rages. The first time it happened was when Hayden was only twelve, a few weeks after their mom's death.

Merle and Daryl had found her crying inside the bathroom with purple bruises on her arms. Merle had flown into a rage and nearly killed their dad, but Hayden stopped him. She said she didn't want her big brother to go to jail because of a drunkard, and Daryl could see that Merle had to exercise all of his control not to bash their dad's head in.

"Hey Daryl, you okay?"

Daryl looked up to see Dale Horvath, another Atlanta survivor, looking at him. "Oh. Hey Dale. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"It's sad what happened to Sophia," Dale commented, gripping his rifle tightly. "How is Carol?"

"She's... she's fine," Daryl managed. "She didn't want to see her daughter like that. She was going on about how her Sophia wasn't that creature and all that shit."

Dale nodded, as if he understood how Carol felt. "I know. Right now it must be all too much to take in."

"Yeah. Yeah, it probably is."

Dale opened his mouth to speak, but the sudden roar of an approaching truck drowned out the beginning of his sentence. He and Daryl, along with the rest of the Atlanta survivors – minus Carol – turned towards the copse of trees.

To their surprise, a familiar truck came barrelling into view. What surprised them even more was to see Merle exit the truck, his sliced hand wrapped in a thick swath of bandages.

To Daryl's shock and utter disbelief, Hayden dropped down from the passenger door, a shot gun in her right hand and a machete slung on a sheath on her hip.

Hayden's eyes scoured the scene, finally resting on his.