Just a quick note to thank ya'll for taking the time to read this, it makes me smile ALOT, so here's the next instalment, a few sneaky insights to the Dixon's past hidden in here ;)

Enjoy!

I own none of the characters.

The dank rooms hadn't changed; Daryl followed Carol into the far room, she moved with caution, her shoulders always slumped, her head always bowed.

Daryl understood her body language; it was so familiar to his own, fear and unease mixed with dejection and failure.

"I'll bring you some clean sheets, a towel" she stood back and to the side. He took this as his cue to pass her; he looked around the stark room and held onto his bag, he wasn't making himself at home, not while she was still around.

"S'no need"

She didn't take her judgmental eyes off him, he could feel the pity seeping from her and it made him sick; He didn't need anyone's pity, especially not hers, she should save that for herself.

She turned back towards him, her eyes shifting between Daryl and the floor "it's good to see you again, Daryl. I know Merle missed you" she hesitated and ran her hand cautiously over her cropped hair "he doesn't show it much but he needs his brother"

Daryl grunted and threw the backpack onto the bed "G'night, Carol"

Carol waited outside the bedroom door, composing herself before going to Merle; She had left him to close up, that would have pissed him off straight away, not that he would have done anything other than kicking everyone out and locking the doors; She'd have to clean in the morning, empty the drip trays, clean the lines and re-stock, and she'd have hell to pay.

She sighed with relief as his snoring frame sprawled out over the bed, he hadn't bothered to undress, or even remove his boots.

Carol undressed carefully, holding her breath with every creak of the floorboards, her eyes darted over to him; He grumbled and turned, leaving just enough room for her to squeeze in next to him.

She removed his boots, careful not to disturb him; the last thing Carol wanted was to alert him of her presence, He'd be sure to want something from her then and the thought of his sweaty hands pawing over her sent a shiver down her spine.

She crawled in next to him, her greying nightdress clinging to her, the night breeze drifted over her and goose bumps settled against her skin, she'd not risk tugging some covers from underneath him though, she'd rather freeze.

She laid still, her fingers toying with the fraying edge of the pillow case, his snoring should have disturbed her but it offered solace, it meant he was so intoxicated that he'd not wake.

Her mind drifted to Daryl, the change in him was obvious, gone was the innocent, wide eyed teenager; instead he had now been replaced with a guarded and broken man.

It was Merle's fault, well… perhaps not entirely but he'd played a pivotal role in Daryl's upbringing.

Daryl hadn't known the love of a mother, she'd died in child birth and this caused a wave of hatred and resentment from Merle and their father; they'd both blamed the innocent boy that had been born into a world of blood.

The bed was lumpy, and the room held a chill, an un-lived in chill but that didn't matter, Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in such… luxury.

He moved onto his side, the familiar ache in the pit of his stomach threatened him once more "not now!" he muttered, he'd not eaten for over 24 hours but had readily turned down Carol's offer of food, she looked exhausted and he'd not put on her, Merle did that enough for the both of them.

He thought back to a time when Carol hadn't looked so… beaten down...

As a teenager Daryl had spent most of his time avoiding his father's fists, but he'd be so busy avoiding that, he'd run straight into his brothers; they didn't need a reason to remind him of how unimportant he really was.

Women made him nervous set him on edge, they were unfamiliar creatures and that had scared him, hell… it still scared him still to this day!

Carol and Merle went to school together; Daryl's father hadn't seen it fit for his youngest son to receive an education, instead he'd used him as his whipping boy and that was in the literal sense.

Daryl remembered that day well, the day a young Carol nervously followed his brother into the tavern, Daryl had been washing glasses, his brother's unwanted clothes hanging loosely from his emaciated body.

"Hello" she had whispered her voice softer than anything he'd ever known; He'd been too shy to even contemplate responding and instead kept his head down and continued with his chores but he noticed her, he always noticed her.

Carol came in often after that day, she became Merle's shadow and he loved it, his ownership of the timid young girl became obvious from an early stage; it hadn't taken long for him to order her to tie her hair back; Daryl guessed that had been why it was now replaced by the boyish, cropped cut.

He groaned inwardly, shaking off the images that plagued his mind, resting his arms behind his head as he stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, they joined together, just like a map; and then a fresh set of images infected his head...

He would join the lines together on 'those' nights, he'd make pretend that each was a new road, taking him somewhere else, anywhere else that wasn't in that room, in that moment.

It was all he could do to bring himself through it, to survive and see yet another day; He had a lot to thank those cracks in the ceiling for.

Carol woke with a start, a sheen of sweat licking across the back of her neck, she'd had the same nightmares, always the same nightmares and they would always end in the same way; instinctively she threw her hand to her neck and attempted to control her sporadic breathing. Merle was spark out; his hands hadn't been clamped around her neck, squeezing the life out of her.

The sound of barrels scraping against the cellar floor echoed about the empty bar, pulling her cardigan across her brittle body she crept down the steps, her hand clutched against the baseball bat in preparation to hit out.

Stopping short of the bottom step Carol saw him, his shoulder muscles glistening with dirt and sweat, the prominent scars peaked out from the neck of his shirt, grunting as he pushed the barrel against the wall and hooked it up.

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and turned, tensing his shoulders as his eyes flicked briefly over her "sorry. I wake ya?"

Carol shook her head, focusing on the barrel "you didn't have to do that"

"S'no big deal" He shrugged and kicked the toe of his work boot against the wall "couldn't sleep"

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly and she regarded him curiously "why did you go, Daryl?"

He pushed the damp hair from his eyes, everything about the way he stood screamed that he didn't want to discuss it "don't matter" He dragged another barrel over and she considered her next words carefully, Daryl had always been... difficult to communicate with "it matters to me" she held her breath as the words tumbled from her mouth, He paused, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat "why'd you stay?" his words took her off guard and she stammered for a response "I... Daryl, I... I had to!" He scoffed and turned, his eyes looking right through her "sure'ya did!"

"CAROL! Where'r'ya, Woman? My stomach thinks my throat's been cut!" Daryl tilted his head towards the stairs "best see ta that"

She sighed, dejected by the conversation; Daryl turned away and stacked the boxes, two at a time, his muscles protesting against him, his stomach growled with anger as she called down to him

"Daryl? Breakfast will be ready in ten"

Merle didn't bother to look up as Daryl sat down at the kitchen table, evidence of grits soaked into the same white tank he'd worn the previous day, the film of stubble now more prominent; food sprayed out over the table as he finally spoke "How long you stickin' around?"

Daryl swallowed the bacon and felt bile rise in his throat, the earlier hunger now replaced with repulsion as Merle shovelled another mouthful of food into his mouth "dunno! For a bit"

Dixon's weren't known for their fluid conversational skills.

"Gunna have'ta pay yer way! We don't keep nobody here!" Daryl nodded and collected the piece of toast from his plate as he made to leave, he couldn't stomach Merle's company for one second longer.

"I mean it, baby brother! Gotta pull ya weight! Worked hard at keepin' this place running so ya could take yerself off on ya lil road trip!"

Daryl knew different, Merle hadn't kept anything 'running' it was all Carol; she visibly worked her fingers to the grindstone for his useless, older brother.

"Heard ya the first time!" He mumbled before stopping to survey the kitchen, it hadn't changed, it was a darn sight cleaner but it hadn't changed, much like everything else in the god forsaken place.