So. I pride myself on not crying during emotional movies. Those heart retching tear jerkers that even turn the manliest men into overgrown gushing babies. I can also admit when I have. Lion King, Passion of the Christ, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. Just to name the three. Lol.

Ladies and Gentlemen. I can now add The Walking dead to that list as of last week's episode. That shnit….Damn.

Disclaimer- I do not own The Walking Dead or its subsequent characters bladdy bladdy blah. I do however own a computer in which I can write fanfiction on…Which this is.

Warning-There will be cursing and racial slurs. If you have a problem, then don't read. It is purely out of keeping Merle, who is a complete racist, in character. His views do not reflect my own as I do not discriminate…I hate everyone. XD. J.K. I'm a lover, not a fighter.

Author's Extra Note- I love and hate all of the characters on the show, past and present (some more than others), but the dynamics between Norman Reedus and Michael Rooker are amazing.

Authors Extra Extra Note- Yes it was probably more than likely an instant kill, like bang boom, dead corpse to reanimated Pinocchio, no strings, but you know what…It's a fanfiction…So there.

Aunt Mary's Trash

"I ain't gonna beg. I an't begging you."

As nonchalant as a deranged man could be, Philip pointed his Berretta 92SB Nickel at the stunned yet angry male before him. Even calmly still he spoke only one word that held the weight of the world.

"…No."

And pulled the trigger.

BANG

Merle cursed his ill begotten luck for the twelve thousandth time since before all this crap with walkers started, blood gushing slowly from the bullet sized hole in his chest. With each agonizing beat of torn muscle, (the damn Guv couldn't have just ended it with a bullet to the head…sick bastard), he could feel the pain eat away at his mind. What sane part of it remained anyway.

'Do you even know why you do what you do?'

'Oh ain't this just a barrel of good times. The last thing I hear, Captain Save a Hoe's mouth,' Merle thought wryly to himself. At the time his answer had been no. Of course he fucking knew what he was doing. Surviving. Keeping his brother alive and away from turning into some brain dead master-less marionette hopped up on Angel's dust.

"I don't have to answer to no one," Merle wheezed out, talking to the empty air as it grew harder for oxygen to fill up his lungs. Not to his dear little brother, not to the Governor, not to the Ninja, and damn sure not Officer Friendly.

But in the end Merle had. Damn if that woman hadn't gotten into his head after all, Michonne. Maybe he should have cut off her tongue whilst they were in the car driving to her would be final destination. Given her up to the Governor as planned, shot the bastard and gone back like nothing happened. But who would he be fooling? Merle wasn't stupid. Oh he was sure the others thought otherwise, that chowed on Nigger for one, among other things. But no. He wasn't.

Merle had figured out things way before Rick had. Self-proclaimed dictator. 'And I'm the King of the Walking Dead. Please.' Rick was a cowering rabbit trapped in a hunters net with snakes on one end and hounds on another, ready to tear him apart on first glance. If he really thought giving up one person would stop someone like the Governor than he was no one that could keep his brother alive. No. Rick was no Merle. And he was no Governor.

'We can go back. We can just go back.'

If people's voices didn't get out of his head soon Merle was sure he'd get up, find them, and shoot 'em dead, twice, for intruding on his personal space.

'I just can't, okay.'

Never mind how true that statement was. 'Won't be able to now that's for damn sure'

Falling to the ground, Merle landed on his back finding it oddly hilarious given the ill timing of it all, his death drawing nearer still. He'd spent many a time in that position after a heavy drink, it was whisky that was his choice of poison, after all. What he would do for another right now, hell, it didn't even have to be cold. 'The last one sure wasn't,' he thought as the pain started to slowly ebb away, having nothing to do with the liquid poison that had willfully entered his body not but thirty minutes before.

Oh he figured it would probably end like this. Merle could say thanks to Officer Friendly, but it was his choice to take on the job. Be a part of the inner circle yet again. It was someone else's little country club but hey. Whatever kept him alive long enough to see his brother again. Whatever it took to keep Daryl safe afterwards. Take on the dirty jobs and be the bad guy. All for the sake of the same goal. It was his choice to let the last samurai, his little Nubian Queen, to walk back to the safety of the camp. To return to the tomb that he would never fully be accepted at. Be a part of. 'Inner circle my left ass cheek.'

'He has a new family now.'

Damn if that hadn't rang true. Daryl had even left him to go back to his little cozy flock of walker bate, following an even bigger blind idiot (and he had both his eyes). The same group that, months ago, Daryl had called sheep. The same type of people he despised growing up as a kid. Always on the outside looking in. The outer circle. But with his absence apparently all of that had changed. His baby brother fought with these people, protected these people, even risked his life time and time again for these people, and for what?

For what?

'I just want my brother back.'

And he was back. Right there with him every step of the way after everything became a moving buffet for the thousands of Bernie's limping around. Sure he had spent time in juvie, a lot of time, and alright…He may not have been around a lot afterwards…But he was there when it had mattered damn it. Then there were the months they had been separated thanks to the pig and the shoe shiner.

'What do they have that I ain't got. What have they done for you that I ain't never did, little brother?'

That's when it hit him.

-xxXxx-

Staring at the point of an arrow head notched into a crossbow. The weapon held by none other than his baby brother. Angry words thrown between two brothers. Angry scars upon a pale back. Apologies. Family. They shared a bond beyond killing walkers together and sharing a sleeping space, watching each other's backs. Blood.

'I may be the one walking away, but you're the one that's leaving. Again.'

-xxXxx-

Damn. That's what.

Damn it if he wasn't abandoning his little brother yet again. As kids, young adults, and even now. Probably when it mattered most. Or had all of those times mattered? He had always thought Daryl soft, needing to grow his own backbone. Grow a pair.

'Do you even possess a pair of balls little brother. Because if you do, they belong to you…'

Maybe he had finally grown a set. He had afterall pointed a loaded weapon at him At Merle of all people. But that would mean he had yet again missed something in his baby brother's life. 'When the hell did he grow up? When the hell did he stop needing me?'

'No one will mourn you. Not even your brother.'

Michonne had no clue what she was talking about. Of course Daryl would mourn him. He might not have been the best brother in any terms of the word but damnit all if he didn't try. And he did.

'I just want my brother back.'

Fuck.

Yea. All of it had been for his brother. Every death brought upon someone from his own hands…All sixteen of them. Every seemingly random action and those which appeared barbaric and downright cruel. All of it. Even his plan of taking the Governor on his own. If Merle couldn't be part of the group in whole, at least he could take out the major threat to his brother. Help him keep the family he had found, the family that he seemed to finally become a part of.

Merle could at least do that much.

'I want to be with my brother. My brother wants to be at the prison.'

It was too late for him. But not for his brother. Not for a longshot.

The last thing Merle thought while the black hand of death squeezed against his heart, his last breathe taken in.

'And I was half expecting to finally see that chupacabra.'

Dedicated to my siblings and TimeXgone23. If shit went down I would so stab you repeatedly in the face if you turned. Out of love of course. I hope the feelings mutual.

Happy day of Resurrection. Enjoy your family. I know I am.