When feelings you shouldn't have in the first place get involved, nothing is easy in life anymore. Not that it ever was.
Not for the Dixons, anyway.

Warnings: Child abuse and implied thoughts of incest.

Notes: Feedback is love, let us have it!

Will Dixon was standing at the kitchen window, - nursing his usual glass of cheap whiskey - staring outside, transfixed by his 11 year old. Disturbed and sickened by the feelings the boy roused within him as he savagely suppressed them. Managing this task however, he was soon focusing on the scene playing out before him instead.

It'd been snowing for days on end by now – rare in Georgia to even see frost in the winter. He knew that nothing made Daryl happier than that, the kid probably couldn't remember seeing snow quite like this before – the last heavy fall had been when he was just a baby.

The window was cheap, single pane – no double insulation for the Dixons, so he could hear Daryl and Merle talking together quite clearly.

Merle was working on Daryl's bike inside the toolshed, as Daryl was determined to make a larger than life snowman. Every once in a while Merle would come outside and check on his progress. His younger boy's happiness to have his big brother close to him showed in the glow on his cheeks and his bright eyes. As well as in the wide smile on his face. He could tell Daryl was getting more and more excited every time Merle appeared and checked on his progress with his snowman that continued to grow.

Will was feeling even more guilty than usual on this particular day and he made a promise to himself that he would treat his two sons to a nice dinner later on that the evening.

For once.

Feeling bad in all sorts of ways now, the whiskey wasn't taking the edge off like it usually did. Mainly because his eyes kept on zeroing in on his younger son's rosy cheeks, where mingled with their healthy tint were the blue and purple bruises he'd put there only yesterday. The fact that he was also sporting another split lip, made the boy look less innocent than he was. Those ugly bruises was sure to let everyone know that 11 year old Daryl had it anything but easy in life. The thought made Will frown, he didn't like how Daryl seemed to be able to get under his skin like this. Yesterday he was angry enough to blurt out that Daryl and Merle weren't his sons. And here he was, regretting some of the rage he had unleashed on his youngest, too small to defend himself even if he wanted to.

He also felt bad because Daryl hadn't been allowed to go and play around his friend's house, which left him dogging Merle. More often than not, Merle didn't mind. Every once in a while, he too would fall for those eyes looking up at him with hope and he'd be damned if Merle didn't enjoy himself when he helped Daryl with the last part of the snowman.

He witnessed Daryl looking up at Merle with those big, blue, puppy-dog eyes, looking at his big brother with such open awe and admiration that it made Will clench his fists by his sides. Daryl idolized Merle, he really did.

Daryl used to look at him like that once-upon-a-time before his Mama died and everything went to shit. Before the drinking and the drugs. Now all he got was those big eyes staring at him with fear and apprehension. When they weren't following him and his every move in terror, they were flitting about the room,looking for the nearest exit.

His eyes always on alert, looking for the quickest way out, away from him – his own father.

But did Will also detect a sneer in them sometimes?

Worst of all - whenever he raised his voice or his hand only to touch Daryl's hair or arm in harmless affection, his son would flinch and recoil from him like he was the devil. If Will raised his voice slightly, even if he wasn't angry, the boy would nearly jump out of his skin.

Will nearly choked on his drink when he saw his youngest cling onto his big brother's hand and Merle led him gently to the shed. Opened the door et voila! The bike was fixed. Merle flourished his hand proudly at it while Daryl beamed up at his big brother like he was his hero.

This scene should have warmed his heart but instead, he felt it freeze in his chest, as a stab of jealous rage pierced him, as he vowed he would find a way to use their love for each other against them. Having done exactly that the night before, Will knew it was a game he would never get tired of /

He'd kept him close to home that day mostly because he didn't want everyone to witness the results of the worst beating he'd ever given to Daryl in public. Not that it would make any difference. Probably, nobody would even be surprised.

Wife-beating and harsh child discipline was the norm in their rural Georgia neighborhood. He'd heard men, his friends amongst them, boast about whose families were most scared of them in bar backrooms. People around here already knew about his new habit of taking his increasingly bad temper out on his sons. But it was only a matter of time before some sappy soul reacted. His rage and need to lash out at someone increased with his drinking and his occasional drug taking and it was locally known not to mess with him. Even so, he couldn't stop his abusive ways. It was like a vicious circle and when he was sober enough, he immediately regretted everything he'd done to them. Regretting his thoughts, even.

There was always mixed emotions of anger and regret after he had a tantrum. Sometimes the thoughts in his head got worse after that third feeling made itself known. That last emotion that made him want to bite down on his knuckles. Knowing how wrong it was did nothing to ease the discomfort and disgust it made him feel with himself. It usually ended with a tantrum out of the blue, leaving Daryl to answer for something he didn't know he'd done wrong in the first place.

When his thoughts didn't take an inappropriate turn, they made him want to gather Daryl onto his lap and rock him as he gave him comfort. He wanted to kiss those tears away at the same time he wanted to beat them right off his face.

Moreover, his younger son's skittish and nervousness irritated Will Dixon to say the least. He and his brother couldn't have been more different if they tried and Will would often wonder whether his wife had always been faithful to him. If Daryl might belong to some other man. But he'd dismiss that thought as soon as it reared its ugly head in his mind. Not possible because the boy showed spine sometimes when least expected, showed glimmers of being Dixon at times. So Will just concentrated on beating the rest of the Dixon into Daryl, toughening up the boy who was too gentle for his own good. Knowing he'd never survive in their world otherwise.

He couldn't understand the difference between them because Merle had received pretty much the same treatment as Daryl was now. For a couple of years since their mother had died. But then Merle had always been a handful. Loud, brash and obnoxious, he'd rebelled and even defied his father openly occasionally.

Yet, Merle never cringed or cowered like little Daryl, he'd respond with his fists whenever he felt threatened. Never made a sound – wouldn't lower himself to whimper or plead for mercy like his brother whenever he punished him. He'd made it into a game between them, leaving his father to try and force him to show weakness by more and more extreme punishments. In fact, the only time Will had ever heard Merle cry out in pain was when he was using the knife on him and his hand had suddenly shook and he'd unexpectedly cut deeper than he normally did.

But Merle hadn't suffered his rages lately, unlike before. Instead, Daryl had been bearing the brunt of his anger, not least because his older brother was never at home these days.

The time alone they were having with each other was taking their toll on Will. The feelings wouldn't go away, instead they increased in both frequency and intensity the more time he was forced to spend alone with Daryl. Because of this, he was always on edge and ready to blow his top.

Before, Merle'd been the one to distract him from Daryl by making him angry - usually by talking back to him. Will knew that he couldn't be seen as weak by backing out of punishing Merle, he would never hear the end of it. Instead of letting him have it right then and there, Will usually waited when he was least expecting it.

He felt a reluctant respect for his oldest son not only for his courage, but the reason behind it all. Merle deliberately provoked him to protect his brother every chance he got. Despite his ribbing and teasing, Will knew that he loved Daryl deeply. Always ready to protect him at his own expense, taking the pain and humiliation that was meant for his younger brother proved that fact a thousand times over.

Merle was usually successful at pissing him off and diverting Will's anger towards him instead. More often than not, it made him forget all the things that he'd planned to do to Daryl in order to toughen him up. At the beginning, he'd thought the things he'd done to Merle was going to be more than enough to take care of that. But Daryl apparently needed more and more extreme discipline until the boy started acting like a man, like a Dixon. But he rarely did.

11 year old Daryl had cried and whimpered, desperate for the blows to stop coming from every direction making it that much harder for him to shield himself. Never knowing where his father's fist or heavy boot was going to land next. However, his pathetic noises made Will even more furious. Even more unforgiveable, Daryl was trying to get away from the blows raining down on him. This contrast between his brave attempts to escape and his crying made his furious father drag out the punishment longer than it had to be

There was that, and there was that other God forsaken feeling threatening to bubble to the surface again as he straddled his terrified son. Enjoying the fear in his eyes more than he should. The small boy panicked of course, and tried to get his father to stop. Instead of listening, he'd kept him firmly in place and occasionally pinned Daryl's wrists over his head to get his hands out of the way that had prevented Will from getting in a clean blow.