Once again, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers. You're what makes my world go round, and are the reason I feel compelled to keep updating this story in a timely manner. When I know my readers are excited, it keeps me excited, so thank you so much for showing your appreciation and support. It means a lot to me.

I hope you like the next chapter. Here goes:

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Chapter 3

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Merle looked out over the city as he stood near the edge of the building's roof. There were more walkers on the streets now than there had been hours before. That was probably mostly Merle's fault, since he'd been shooting at them and making quite a bit of noise. In his current state, however, he didn't much care. He'd been drinking, as he often did, so the couple of stray walkers stumbling toward the building didn't really bother him. The gun shots had rang out loudly, bouncing off a large number of buildings. There's no way the walkers could actually pin-point their location based on a couple gunshots, and a handful of them stumbling down the street, with no idea that several living people were in this certain building really didn't pose a threat.

The building where they had been living for the past couple of weeks, and on top of which Merle now found himself, had once been both a store as well as some sort of storage space. The bottom two floors was a shop which seemed completely unrelated to the items stored above it, and the four floors above that were mostly empty. A few boxes of mostly worthless stuff, like huge crates filled with office supplies littered the top four floors, but beyond that, the building was pretty useless for anything besides shelter. That's why it was such a good find. No other threatening survivors would fight them for it. Of course, Merle's group was probably one of the more threatening groups left in the city, so he'd probably not have much to worry about either way.

But living in a place no one else would be seeking out left him room to let his guard down, which is why he was currently relaxing on the roof, drinking he fifth beer out of a six-pack he'd found this morning.

"Merle," he turned toward the sound of his brother's voice as Daryl made his way up onto the roof and approached him.

"Hey, little brother," Merle smiled at him. If nothing else in this word was going well, he at least had his family with him, the only family he ever cared for too. Maybe his relationship with Daryl wasn't perfect, but it was what he had, and he cherished it.

"You gotta let that kid go," Daryl said, staring at Merle with a very serious expression on his face.

Merle scoffed and looked back over the roof's edge. "I'm just playin' with 'im. No harm done. He's traveling alone. Nobody's gonna come lookin' for him. Nobody's gonna fight us over it. Just let me and the guys have our fun, will ya?"

Daryl shook his head. "You're not just playing with him, Merle. He's gonna end up dead, just like the last two. You can't just treat people like they're your toys."

"Oh, really?" Merle turned toward him with a raised eyebrow. "Who's gonna stop me?"

Daryl sighed heavily, "You wouldn't want someone treatin' you like that. Or me."

"He's not me," Merle scowled at his brother. "And he's not you." Of course Merle wouldn't want someone treating his brother like Merle was treating Glenn. If anyone tried to force Daryl to join a group where he didn't belong just so they could tease him and threaten him, Merle would kill them for it. But Daryl wasn't weak and stupid enough to let something like that happen to him. Neither was Merle.

"He's someone though, Merle," Daryl's gaze remained firmly locked on Merle's. "That kid could be someone's brother. There could be someone out there who looks at him like you look at me, or the other way around. He's a person."

"Listen, Daryl," Merle frowned. "He's just some kid, right? You don't care what happens to him... But I ain't gonna kill him. I aint gonna straight-up torture him. I'm just messin' around with 'im a little. I'll let him go when I'm done. It's like those lizards and turtles we used to find as kids. We'd pick 'em up, take 'em home, put 'em in a box for a few days. Mess around with 'em, and then let 'em go."

He could tell his brother didn't approve of Merle's tendency to use other survivors he found as his playthings. It was just so fun to mess with people though. When else in his life could he have had the opportunity to find a lone, vulnerable-looking guy on the street and just grab him up and toy with him? Throughout the rest of his life, there were so many rules. He couldn't do anything without being thrown in jail for it... The apocalypse was his playground. Why shouldn't he take advantage of it?

"Half of those lizards ended up dead, Merle," Daryl scowled at him. "And the last two guys you brought back here are dead too. It's not just you I'm worried about. Regardless of the fact that yer actin' like a sociopath, I don't think you'd really kill him. But I know Levi would. And I'm not confident Lawrence and Brady could keep their hands off him either. This kid's gonna end up dead, whether you're the one to do it or not."

"Exactly," Merle laughed. "He's gonna end up dead no matter where he is. We're probably doin' him a favor keeping him in here instead of letting him run off on his own out with all the walkers, right?"

Daryl shook his head. "He's not your pet, Merle. It's not your place..."

"He'll be my pet if I want 'im to be," Merle laughed and turned back toward the ledge, taking a long drink from his beer and looking out over the virtually empty streets. "I got a good feeling about this one, Daryl. He's got enough fight in 'im, but enough fear too. We might be able to keep 'im a while."

"Merle, you can't do that," Daryl walked up to the ledge and looked out over the street with his brother.

"Why the hell not?" Merle glanced over at him. "I'm not gonna hurt him if he cooperates. He don't even have to be tied up. Not if he plays along. Give him a few days, and he'll be walkin' around with the rest of us. Won't take 'im long to learn his place."

"Is that what you want then? You want to basically bully this kid into staying here, acting like he's staying willingly just because he's so afraid of you killing him that he won't run away anymore? You just want someone smaller than you so you can push him around an' make 'im feel like shit like Dad always did to us," Daryl growled. "Just because you can push someone around, hurt, and humiliate them, doesn't mean you should."

Merle turned toward his brother, staring at him silently for a moment. For a split second, he thought about punching his little brother for that comment, but then he thought better of it. Hitting Daryl for comparing him to their father would only prove his younger brother's point. "I ain't nothin' like Dad," the older Dixon scowled down at his younger brother. If there was one person in this world Merle aspired not to be like, it was their father. Before Daryl had a chance to say anything more to him, Merle shoved past him and made his way toward the door.

He walked downstairs a few floors and made his way toward his hostage, who was slumped down against the post Merle had thoroughly attached him to earlier. If Daryl wanted to accuse him of being too harsh, he'd show him right now just how harsh he could be. Glenn was almost definitely more safe here than he would have been otherwise. As far as Merle was concerned, he'd done the kid a favor bringing him inside instead of leaving him to his own idiotic suicide mission. Some twenty-something year old city boy wasn't going to survive very long all on his own. Merle had probably saved him, and what did he get in return for it? Daryl accusing him of being cruel, and comparing him to the one person Merle hated most in the world.

"Wake up," Merle kicked the boy's foot as soon as he reached him, but received no response.

He knelt down next to his captive and grabbed his face, which caused Glenn to flinch back.

"I knew you was awake," Merle smirked down at him. "My brother wants me to let you go," Merle spoke, cocking his head to the side as he stared down at his captive. Glenn's eyes were huge, but the tape over the lower half of his face prevented him from saying anything back, which was fine by Merle, as he didn't really care what the kid had to say on the matter. "You wanna leave, Glenn? You don't like being here with me an' my friends? You don't like us, boy?" Merle accused in a raspy voice as he kept his hand firmly on Glenn's chin, forcing the kid to look at him.

He swatted lightly at Glenn's cheek, causing the boy to flinch and close his eyes for a brief moment.

Daryl had followed him downstairs and was right behind him at this point. "Just leave 'im alone, Merle. Let's just calm down for a second. We'll let him go tomorrow, early so he's got a good start before it gets dark, okay?"

"That sound good to you, Glenn?" Merle grabbed at Glenn's face again, forcing the boy to look at him once more, but making no move to remove the tape from the kid's mouth. He didn't really expect or need an answer from his captive. He wasn't really going to let Glenn go, and judging by the boy's terrified eyes and trembling body, it seemed the kid was well-aware of this.

"Merle," Daryl spoke in the tone he always reserved for his 'calm-down' chats with his older brother. Daryl was constantly trying to tell Merle that the older Dixon brother was out of control and needed to ease up. In everything Merle did, Daryl was always there telling him to chill out.

"Nah, we'll just let him go right now," Merle spoke in an aggravated voice. He didn't like Daryl telling him what to do. In fact, he didn't like anyone telling him what to do. "You want me to let him go? We'll let him go." He pulled out his pocket knife, noticing Glenn flinch back at the sight of the small weapon. Ignoring his captive's fear, Merle brought the knife down to the kid's wrists and went to work cutting the tape off Glenn's hands.

"Merle, stop." Daryl urged in a very serious voice. Although Glenn was probably thoroughly confused as to what exactly was happening, Daryl knew his brother well enough to know what was going on. Of course Merle wasn't going to let Glenn go. He was proving a point, as he always did when his brother argued with him.

As soon as Glenn's hands were free, the boy didn't even make a move to get up and run away. He surely sensed that Merle's words had a deeper meaning, and he was quite obviously afraid to even move as long as Merle was so close to him.

"Let's go, kid," Merle pulled Glenn up roughly by the arm, hearing a pained whimper come from Glenn's still-taped mouth as he tugged the boy to his feet.

At this point, Glenn reached a shaking hand up to his face and pulled the tape off his mouth. Even now that he could speak, the boy did not take the opportunity to do so as Merle dragged him toward the stair case. Daryl followed close behind them.

It wasn't until Merle started leading Glenn up the stairs instead of down them that the kid began to visibly panic. "Where are we going?" he wondered in a breathless voice.

"We're gonna go let you go, Glenn. You don't like me... Well, I don't much like you either," Merle dragged him roughly up the stairs, all but ignoring Glenn's attempts to escape from his grasp.

"Merle!" Daryl yelled at his older brother, "Stop it!"

But Merle didn't listen to his brother. Daryl needed to see that Merle was not someone who took orders from anyone else. Every decision Merle made was a decision he stood by. If he found a survivor out on the street and wanted to take him back and toy with him for a while, he was damn-well going to. Daryl didn't make his choices for him, and if he was going to continue to try to do so, he was gonna end up with more than he bargained for.

Merle dragged Glenn up to the roof and over toward the edge. "You want me to let 'im go, Daryl? Like you said, he's just gonna die anyway, regardless of what I do to 'im. Regardless of what my friends do. Let's just get it over with. Stop wastin' all of our time an' efforts. We'll let him go," Merle offered a raspy, sarcastic laugh as he pulled Glenn closer to the roof's edge.

"No!" Glenn pleaded, struggling under Merle's tight hold on him. "Please don't!"

"Oh, changed yer mind, did ya? You wanna stay here with us, Glenn?" Merle growled, shaking the boy in his hands as he held him perilously close to the ledge. "My brother thinks you don't wanna be here. If you don't wanna be here, I can solve that real quick. I invited you to join my group. I let you into the building where we live, let you into our home, off the streets, away from walkers that would surely kill you. I pretty much saved your damn life, boy, and you just wanna leave? You just wanna go back out onto the streets and get yourself killed. You got no appreciation for me savin' your damn life!" He continued shaking the boy roughly as he spoke.

Glenn squeezed his eyes shut and gripped Merle's arms tightly in his hands, trying to hold onto the older Dixon brother. Merle was currently the only thing within his reach which he could grab for in order to keep himself from being thrown over the edge.

"You still wanna be let go, Glenn?" Merle asked, his voice as harsh as ever. He shook Glenn again when the boy didn't answer. "Hm?"

"No," Glenn breathed out with a shaking breath.

"You wanna stay here with us? You won't try to run away again? You won't try to convince my little brother to let you leave?" Merle growled, shaking Glenn again as he pushed him even closer to the edge.

Glenn's eyes were open again as he looked down at the ground, six stories below. He leaned toward Merle as much as possible and held onto the older man's forearms with a death-grip, his slender fingers trembling uncontrollably.

"Hm?" Merle questioned. "Answer me, kid. You wanna stay? You gonna be good?"

"Yes," Glenn spoke in a trembling voice. "Please," he begged.

"See, Daryl?" Merle smirked toward his younger brother, who only scowled back at him. "He wants to say. He likes it here."

Daryl shook his head in apparent disgust.

Merle pulled Glenn back away from the ledge so that the boy was right up against the older Dixon brother's torso. He could feel Glenn's body shaking as frantic breaths rose and fell in his slim chest. It was the same thing one of his dogs used to do when he'd hold it out over a ledge and make it think he was going to drop it.

With a laugh, Merle shoved Glenn toward Daryl. "Keep an eye on him, little brother," he ordered. "He gets away and one of my guys'll probably kill 'im. You know I could track him down."

Daryl caught Glenn as he stumbled toward him after Merle's harsh shove. The younger Dixon brother almost looked as though he felt protective of the boy, though Merle couldn't understand why. Daryl never cared about anyone, especially not some worthless little city boy.

"If anyone's treating 'im like a pet, you are," Merle growled as he shoved past them and made his way back toward the door. "Better keep 'im on a short leash," he called back over his shoulder.

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