A/N: So I was watching old Walking Dead episodes on Netflix and this happened.
Summary: Rick finds him lying beside his brother's corpse holding a blood-stained knife and staring at it with empty eyes. ONE-SHOT
This wasn't supposed to happen.
This wasn't supposed to happen!
Merle wasn't supposed to be dead!
He was supposed to come back so they could be a family again! He wasn't supposed to be staring at him with the hungry snarl of a walker, his blue eyes clouded and his skin a grotesque grey.
He'd promised. He'd promised!
Tears welled in Daryl's eyes and he backed away as the walker began toward him a broken sob tearing its way from his throat. He tried to bring up his crossbow but it slipped from his nerveless fingers and clattered to the ground, his hands trembling too violently for him to even attempt to pick it up.
"No!" He cried as the monster reached for him, shoving it back. It got back up, displaying a shred of his brothers tenacity when it moved back toward him.
"No!" He screamed at it, shoving it away once more.
This time he followed it, yanking his knife from his sheath and stabbing it in the shoulder. It snarled at him and he ripped the knife out of it, rage filling him.
This thing, it wasn't Merle. It didn't deserve to wear his face. It didn't even deserve to have his body! His brother deserved to rest in peace.
Sure Merle hadn't been the best person on the planet, or even the best brother, but he didn't deserve this.
He glared wetly at the walker, still snarling beneath his arm and let out a hoarse scream, stabbing it over and over in the head until its face was unrecognizable.
"You bastard!" He screamed at it, breath hitching as he took in the mess that was once his brother's face. He thought of all the times he'd yearned to see that face. All the times he wished he'd never see it again and suddenly, he realized that he'd never see that face again.
The rage drained out of him and he collapsed beside the corpse sobbing brokenly.
"M sorry. M sorry." He whimpered, staring at his brother's remains and praying that he could hear him.
Rick frowned worriedly as searched the forests around the prison for his hunter. The younger man had left to find Merle the day before and hadn't returned despite it being close to noon. It had him more than worried and his heart was beating a rapidly in his chest at the thought of anything happening to his best friend (and secret crush) he didn't think he'd be able to take it, especially not after losing Lori not long ago.
He swallowed at the thought and bit his lip as he entered a clearing he remembered the hunter telling him about. He'd been thinking of using the wood from the dilapidated shack occupying it to make Judith an actual bed because she'd outgrown her basket and had often spoken of taking him there to show him. As he moved closer, he noted the lack of walkers around and the very familiar crossbow lying in front of the shack.
Panic stirred in his heart and his keen eyes moved across the field instantly, hoping beyond hope to find Daryl there. When he found him, he froze, heart stilling in his chest.
Daryl was lying on his side next to a mangled walker corpse, a blood stained knife gripped tightly in his hands. Dried tear tracks marred his cheeks and he was staring brokenly at the walker, his entire body trembling weakly.
"Daryl!"
The man didn't stir, didn't even glance in his direction and Rick frowned looking back at the dead walker occupying the younger man's attention.
A dirty, once white wife beater hung off its body, a blue shirt over it unbuttoned, and beige pants clung to it long legs. Then he noticed it right arm and the metal contraption attaching a knife to its wrist and he gave a soft sympathetic sound.
Merle.
Merle was dead.
He looked back at Daryl who still hadn't moved.
"Daryl, Daryl, darlin', I need ya to come back to me." He whispered placing a hand on the hunter's shoulder and shaking him lightly.
The younger man didn't respond for a moment then he turned his listless gaze onto Rick, who jerked back in horror.
Daryl's eyes, normally a beautifully clear crystal blue, were now a desolate pale grey, rimmed red from the tears he'd shed since finding Merle. He glanced back at Merle, then he spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"We gotta burn 'im."
Rick nodded watching as the archer sat up slowly and gazed down at his brother's cold corpse.
"We gotta burn 'im." Daryl repeated softly pulling the cold body into his arms. Once more Rick nodded, the worry he felt for his friend growing with each passing moment. He'd never seen him so listless and broken.
The archer stood shakily and dragged Merle over to a pile of wood a small ways away from the shack. He laid the corpse over it gently then paused as if he were unsure of what to do next. He turned his lost gaze onto Rick.
"We gotta burn 'im." He murmured and Rick swallowed painfully, handing the man his lighter. Daryl stared at him for a moment then picked up a stick and lit it, tossing it onto the dry bed of wood. The bed lit instantly and the smell of burning flesh filled the air as Merle's body burned with it.
"He promised we'd be a family again." The archer whispered and Rick pulled him into his arms, staring at the dead man silently.
He hadn't been a very big fan of Merle Dixon, hell no one had, but he knew one thing without a doubt; Merle loved Daryl more than anything. He'd heard the man making Hershel promise to look after the archer, had seen the look he got in his eyes every time the hunter was nearby. He'd seen the man's eyes soften when he'd finally found Daryl again and the horror when he'd seen him at Woodbury.
Hell he was sure that Merle loved Daryl more than he loved himself and this just proved it. For that, he bowed his head in respect to the man in the fire and promised to protect his brother the best he could.
~FIN