Cockblocking The Cycle

"Y'sure yer good?"

Beth giggled, nodding. "Yes Daryl, I'm fine."

She was standing out by the old barn where Daryl had picked her up while he sat on his bike and bid her goodbye. The motor was rumbling idly and he kept both feet on the ground, staring intently over the handlebars. Almost hesitant to leave.

And she had to admit, she was hesitant to walk away, too. She didn't want this night to end. For a few hours, she'd managed to escape the rest of the world and enjoy a place of solace with Daryl. She'd even managed to form something that resembled a bond with Merle.

But every good thing has to come to an end.

Daryl scoffed. "Lucky yer a happy drunk."

"Not at first," she reminded him.

"Nah. Not at first," he agreed. "But after a few shots." He was smirking, gazing at her with an expression of amusement.

"Well, we gotta have fun where we can."

"Reckon yer right."

"Ain't no point unless we're havin' fun—right?" She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

He rolled his eyes, but his smirk remained.

Then her grin quickly faded and she glanced down at her phone. "Crap. I have to be up in like, less than four hours."

He huffed out a breath. "Sucks ta be you."

"Thanks a lot," she teased. "Guess I better get inside and try to sleep—thanks fer hangin' out with me."

"Don't mention it." He gave a clipped nod and flipped up the kickstand, tightening his grip on the handlebars. "'Specially if yer family asks. Don't think yer daddy'd be too keen on the idea of you sneakin' out to get drunk in a field with me."

Beth laughed. "Probably not, but he can't say much. I am an adult, ya know. And I think we both needed a drink after the week we've had."

"Yeah, yeah," Daryl muttered. "Still." Then he revved the engine and jerked his chin towards the house behind her. "Best get ta bed, Greene. An' drink some water. God's gonna be expectin' ya in the mornin'."

"You too, Dixon."

A few moments later, she was standing on the side of the road by the old barn, watching his motorcycle crest the hill and disappear, leaving nothing but echoes and a cloud of dust in his wake. Her head was still spinning from the moonshine, but the butterflies were very much present in her stomach. Fluttering around wildly and making her heart sputter. And all she could think about was when she'd have a reason to see him again.

She couldn't really tell, because it had been so many years since she'd experienced such a thing, but…

Was this what it was like to have a friend?

Or was she actually crushing on the guy whose soul she was supposed to be saving?


Beth snuck into the house through the back door and crept up the stairs and down the hall, retreating inside her bedroom without making a sound. She could hear the distinct snores of Shawn and Hershel from behind their bedroom doors, but Maggie and Glenn's room was completely dark and silent. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice Beth's absence.

Merle had disappeared as soon as Beth and Daryl packed up and mounted the motorcycle. She'd hoped that he would stay gone for the rest of the night, but right after she changed into pajamas and switched off her bedside lamp, he showed up.

She was already halfway into bed, sitting up with her legs beneath the blanket. Merle was perched in her desk chair. He was leaning back, arms crossed over his chest and knees spread leisurely.

"Didn't know you could get down like that, Doodlebug."

She couldn't help but laugh. She slid down into the bed, lying down and resting the back of her head against the pillow while she pulled the blanket up to her chest. "Just like I didn't know you could be so bearable."

He chuckled. "Would've if you'd known me when I was alive. I'm a downright party animal. Just ask Daryl."

She shut her eyes and nestled into bed. "Nah, I'm good."

Merle scoffed. "Oh, c'mon. I thought we was friends now. Didn't we just bond out there?"

She didn't respond.

He scoffed again. "You passin' out already? Ain't even two a.m. yet."

"And I have to be up at five. So just be quiet for a few hours."

He sighed with audible discontent.

There was a moment of peace, during which Beth thought she might be able to drift off despite her messy brain. But then Merle spoke again and ruined it.

She should've known he wouldn't shut up and let her sleep that easily.

"Well ya sure bonded with somebody out there… Yer catchin' feelings, ain'tcha sweetheart?"

She tried to ignore him. But he took her silence as affirmation.

"Ya hear that phone ringin'? Better pick up, 'cause I fuckin' called it. Since day one—knew you'd get a crush on my pussy little brother. Yer just the type that would."

She kept ignoring him. Silently praying that he would just stop talking and let her drift off. Surely, if he got no reaction, he'd have no reason to keep going.

But when was that ever the case for Merle?

"Can't say I blame ya. Hell, I wanna be mad about it, but what reason do I got? Yer jus' a sheltered li'l farm girl. Don't know no better. Reckon runnin' off with him is the most dangerous thing ya ever done. 'Course yer gonna go fallin' all head-over-heels fer the bad boy with a motorcycle—'specially when he's helpin' ya sneak out an' get drunk… This's the most action you've had since high school, ain't it, princess?"

It was becoming more and more difficult to ignore him. Beth was gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, hoping he'd assume she'd already fallen asleep. But he knew better. Somehow, Merle always knew.

He sucked his teeth and made a grunted sound of disapproval. "My brother ain't some fling ta be had, ya know. He ain't some experience you can just write about in yer diary. You might think I'm jealous an' spiteful an' full of fuckin' shit… but you know just as well as I do that you wouldn't have nothin' to do with him if it weren't for my deal with Papa Legba."

"Don't say his name."

Beth's eyes opened and she looked over to lock her gaze with Merle's through the darkness of her bedroom. She could barely make him out in the light of the moon that leaked in from the windows, but she could see the smirk plainly plastered on his face; the look of satisfaction from receiving a reaction.

"Why not? Is he scarier now?" Merle taunted. "Now that ya know he could take away yer prospective boyfriend forever?"

She shut her eyes again and pulled the blanket up a little higher over her chest.

She shouldn't have said anything, though. Because she was only urging Merle to continue. Every response she might've had was no more than fuel for his growing flame of resentment.

He huffed out an agitated breath and she could hear him shifting his weight in the desk chair. Uncrossing and recrossing his arms. Spreading his knees a little wider. She didn't have to look to know that his eyes were narrowing at her. The angry frown was audible in his tone.

"Y'all sure talked about a lot out there. But ya didn't tell him the truth 'bout our mama—'bout what you saw."

Her breath hitched, but she tried not to make it obvious. She kept her eyes shut tight.

Of course he'd heard everything they talked about. There was no escaping him.

Merle grunted. "How come? Y'think it'd break his heart? 'Cause he already knows how she was treated. You wouldn't be the first one ta tell 'im 'bout our mean ol' pa. Won't be the last neither… So why'd ya hold back now? Huh?"

Beth was gritting her teeth and clenching her jaw, forcing herself to breathe steadily through her nose. It was becoming more difficult, though. She wanted to tune him out completely. But that was well past impossible.

"I know, blondie," he muttered ominously. "I 'member that day. One'a the only memories I got from when I was a kid… Gettin' kicked outta the grocery store—all 'cause I was try'na feed that fuckin' fetus inside my mama's womb. I got one helluva beating that night, tell ya what. Worth it, though. She'd'a got beat twice as bad if she'd let that nosey Horvath drive us home… Our pa always knew. Wasn't no secrets from him. People talk. 'Specially in this town. Shit, if we'd come home with a jar of peanut butter he didn't buy, he might'a killed us both. Daryl wouldn'ta never saw the light'a day."

There was a deep ache forming in Beth's chest as she recalled that memory through Dale Horvath's eyes. A scrawny little Merle, covered in bruises and dressed in filthy, too-small clothing. His and Daryl's mother being pinched and berated by the man she'd vowed to love for better or for worse.

And all Daryl had left of the woman who'd birthed him and cared for him was a faded old polaroid and whatever hearsay stories went around town.

Merle only paused for a couple seconds before he went on, a scornful edge sharpening his tone, "You think yer protecting him now? You think blurrin' the truth is gonna make this easier? 'Cause yer sorely mistaken, princess. He already knows the truth. And you ain't doin' him no favors by try'na paint some pretty picture of the past." He scoffed. "I know you don't wanna be the bearer of bad news, but you ain't gonna get nowhere if ya keep tryin' to dull all the sharp edges. That boy was born outta hardship; you could learn a thing or two from 'im. Life ain't a fairytale."

She'd been biting her tongue so long that she could no longer bear to keep doing so. Her eyes shot open and flicked over to meet Merle's, and she blurted out, "And what good is it gonna do to hurt him more? All he has left of your mom is some sad old picture. And whatever I tell him from my visions. Don't you think he's suffered enough?"

Without blinking, Merle responded, "Suffering's a part of life. Makes ya who you are—"

"It builds character," Beth interjected.

His lips snapped shut at that. He tensed up. She knew she'd hit a nerve.

Maybe she shouldn't have said that. But how could she help herself? Daryl had his demons. So did Merle. And thanks to her Gift, she knew about all of them. She remembered, very clearly, which words Papa Legba had spoken that struck Merle silent. And she wasn't above employing them in a time of need.

"Fuck off," he grumbled, glaring daggers at her.

"Well it does, doesn't it?" She countered. "That's how you were raised. So that's how Daryl should be treated for his whole life—right? The more pain, the more character? Is that how it goes?"

Merle scowled. His arms tightened over his chest. "You know damn well that's not what I mean. Fuckin' smartass."

"So there's different rules for you an' Daryl? Even though you were both abused by the same father? Even though you both lost the same mother? For some reason, Daryl's supposed to suffer like you did because it'll… what? Make him more like you? Is that the goal here? You want him to end up some bitter old dead guy, just like the men who came before him?"

"You think yer real fuckin' clever, don'tcha? Shove it up yer ass. I ain't listenin' to this from some bitch who's never had a real job."

Beth heaved an exasperated sigh and glared at Merle with contempt. "And when was the last time you had a real job? When you were in the military?"

He turned his head and spat angrily, but nothing appeared on the floor. His scowl deepened and he returned her glare with icy narrowed eyes and equal contempt. "I did more during my time in Afghanistan than yer whole family could do in fifty years, sweetcheeks. Y'keep speakin' ill of the dead like that, might find yerself sittin' right beside me down in Papa Legba's ghetto."

She rolled her eyes right before slamming them shut, breathing out heavily through her nostrils and holding back a retort. It was hard not to argue, especially when she was so used to slinging cheap insults back and forth with her siblings. But most of those arguments ended with some sort of progress, and she knew better than to expect such a thing from any kind of argument with Merle. She shouldn't have ever fed into his bullshit to begin with.

Beth rolled over and pulled the blanket tighter across her body, her back turned to him. He humphed like he was satisfied.

Whatever. She was willing to let him think he'd "won" if it meant getting a few hours of sleep before church. Her head was still swimming from the alcohol, but she could tell it was starting to wear off. It was harder to laugh things off, and she was growing more irritable and stressed.

She had to remind herself not to let her mind drift too far before she fell asleep. To maintain control and remember herself. So she tried to focus on that.

But apparently, Merle wasn't quite satisfied enough to drop it and shut up. He sucked on his teeth obnoxiously, humming and hawing under his breath. Beth tried desperately to tune him out.

Regardless, he didn't care that she was obviously trying to sleep. And she was only afforded a few moments of peace before he huffed out a dramatic sigh, as if to demand her attention.

As if she had any other choice but to listen to him.

Then he spoke with a tone full of resentment, though it was quickly softening, "Now listen, blondie. 'Cause I'm only gonna say this once, an' the only reason I'm sayin' it is 'cause I know you won't repeat it. Hell, even if ya did, Daryl'd never believe ya."

Beth opened her eyes, but she didn't turn to face him. She stared at the wall, lips pursed and fingers gripping the blanket.

"I give a shit about ya," Merle said. "Alrigh'? I actually fuckin' care whether you live or die—or whether ya end up sufferin' down in Hell or prancin' 'round in Heaven… whatever the fuck it might be yer s'posed ta do up there with all them boring-ass Mormons."

She swallowed hard, unsure of what point he was attempting to make. Should she be offended or flattered?

"And that's sayin' a helluva lot. Ya hear me? 'Cause I ain't never cared about nobody 'cept me an' Daryl…"

Well, at least he could admit it.

"But yer alright, Greene."

Wow, he actually used one of her real names. Now she knew he was being genuine.

"I reckon ya ain't the worst broad I coulda got stuck with… Shit, sometimes I think ya might actually have a decent head on them weak li'l shoulders. If you'd just grow the fuck up already."

Okay, that kinda ruined it. Where was he going with this, anyway? She shut her eyes again and tried to slow her breathing.

"I know you ain't sleepin'," he went on. "So ya best listen ta me an' take this shit ta heart. 'Cause ya might think yer all grown up now, but yer not. Not even close. An' if ya don't do it fer yerself, somebody else is gonna make ya do it. Daryl's a good guy—I'll admit it. But he ain't perfect. Y'all get along real well, even though he's got a couple decades' worth of experience on ya… And why you think that is, blondie? 'S not 'cause yer at the same level, I can tell ya that damn much. He's different. He's miles fuckin' ahead of you, even if it seems like he's not… You go gettin' too close, an' he's gonna end up draggin' you down a path you never wanted to take. He'll force you to grow up."

What the fuck? She lay in stunned silence, eyebrows furrowing as she listened.

"And you don't want that. Trust me."

Beth shifted just slightly beneath the blanket and mumbled, "I don't think you're in a position to be giving advice."

Merle snorted. "Oh yeah? You gonna tell me I don't know shit? Like I don't know how my family operated? 'Cause outta all them visions you've had, not one of 'em showed you who my mama was before she met my pa."

Why would they? She almost asked. How would that matter? But she bit her tongue, because she knew better by now.

Everything mattered. Even the stuff that happened to people long dead and gone. If she'd learned anything, it was that everything was connected in one way or another.

He could see her tensing under the blanket and he chortled coldly. "Thing is, Miss Leanne Jacobs was a lot like you back in the day. God-fearin', do-goodin', perfect little honor roll prissy girl…"

Beth gritted her teeth, glaring daggers at the wall because she didn't dare turn over and glare them at Merle.

Then he surprised her when he continued with, "But I'll be damned if she wasn't a force ta be reckoned with. She was smart. Independent. Determined. She knew what she wanted, knew what she believed in, and she didn't ever let nobody tell her any different… Not even her folks."

Now Beth was really confused. She couldn't resist glancing back over her shoulder, only to find Merle staring down at his hands in his lap. What she could see of his expression appeared almost remorseful in the sparse light of the moon through the windows. He didn't even notice her looking at him.

The smug stiffness that was usually present in his shoulders seemed deflated, and his voice lowered just a bit as he went on. "Way I heard it, my pa came in an' ruined her whole damn life. But I know it wasn't him. Not entirely… She could'a left him in the dust if it weren't fer the fuckin' demon seed he planted inside her… She was barely outta high school when she got knocked up with me. He was older, had his own place, seemed to have his shit together. I don't blame 'er fer havin' faith. That's what females do—they're naive, even when they're as tough as she was. She wanted ta hope fer the best. Wanted to do what she thought was right. Even when shit got unbearable. That's just the kinda woman she was. Always toughin' it out fer other people. Always sufferin' for the sake of the greater good. But… Christ."

He sighed, long and deep. Beth could hear anger in his voice, and age-old resentment—but more than that, it was exhaustion. An exhaustion she hadn't ever heard from him before. A tired regret. The kind that left you feeling defeated, even after death.

"My existence ruined that poor girl's life," he said definitively. "'Cause not long after I came 'round, my pa broke her. An' that's the thing that really fuckin' gets me… Daryl never got to know the woman ol' Will Dixon married. Shit, I barely even got a glimpse of her myself. A couple blurry memories here an' there from when I was still in diapers. But by the time Daryl came along… she was long gone. Nothin' more'an a shell of who she used ta be. Who she should'a been. She got all soft, couldn't bear ta leave the father of her children—no matter how much he beat us. He was all she had. All her friends moved away or moved on, 'cause Lord knows she wasn't allowed to have nobody 'cept her dear husband. Her parents died a couple years after I was born, but it wouldn'ta mattered anyhow. They disowned her fer havin' a baby outta wedlock an' givin' up on her college plans just to shack up with some older guy… They never much liked Will Dixon, and I can't say I blame 'em. Wish she would'a listened to 'em in the first place. Should'a just scooped me out with a coathanger when she had the chance. Coulda saved us all some trouble."

Beth finally rolled over and faced Merle, eyes narrowed in skepticism. He met her gaze with a deep frown.

"That sounds terrible," she said quietly. "And I'm sorry you feel that way, and I'm even more sorry your mama had to go through that… But what's it got to do with me?"

He sighed in frustration and shook his head, anger hardening his features. "Don't you fuckin' get it, girl? I'm try'na give you a heads-up here. I'm pourin' my goddamn heart out an' lettin' you know I give a shit about where you end up in life."

Beth didn't move except to wrap the blanket a little tighter around herself. "How? By comparing me to your dead mom? I don't really see the connection yer tryin' to make."

Merle groaned and stood to his feet, taking a step towards the bed and glaring down at her. He jabbed a finger in her direction and insisted, "Then you best open yer fuckin' eyes, blondie. 'Cause yer goin' down the same goddamn path as her. You wanna grow up the hard way? You wanna see what it's really like ta be all alone? Keep yer shit up an' you will. Ain't no Princess Wedding planned out fer yer future if you try sidlin' up to my brother the way ya are."

She knew it was counter-productive to feed into his argument, but she couldn't help herself. The liquor was still coursing through her veins, and the connections he insinuated were too insulting to ignore.

"Your mom and dad aren't the definition of what could happen in those situations, ya know," she argued. "Your dad might've been older and your mom might've been naive, but my parents had a big age gap, too—my mom even had a kid from a guy who wasn't in the picture anymore. And look how they turned out. Sometimes, the right person can help you grow. In a good way. Whether you wanna believe it or not. Just because you've never seen it with your own eyes doesn't mean it's impossible."

"Bullshit," Merle retorted. "It's always the same, no matter which way you try an' spin it. My old man ruined her. She shoulda known better. People like us—Dixons… we're poison. We got no damn business associatin' with the likes of y'all. It don't ever turn out good."

Beth stiffened. "Your dad was an awful person. That's not your mama's fault. It never was. He might've broke her, but it wasn't because he was a Dixon. It's because he was a piece of shit. His actions don't define who you and Daryl are—they don't define your futures."

"Oh yeah?" Merle countered, slashing a hand through the air. "Tell that to Papa Legba, smartass."

She cringed. "Stop saying his name."

"Why?!" He yelled. "The fuck you want me to censor myself for? Huh?! You gettin' soft on me now too, blondie? You gonna go runnin' off an' lettin' all yer fuckin' convictions fall to the wayside over some forty-somethin'-year-old redneck who ain't never had a girlfriend in his whole goddamn life?!"

Beth took in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut right before rolling over to face the wall. She mumbled, "There you go, jumpin' to conclusions again." Then she nuzzled down into the pillow, pointedly ignoring him.

"Can't you see I'm tryin' ta look out fer you?! If you wanna think I'm bein' facetious, you go on ahead an' keep thinkin' that. But what I'm talkin' 'bout don't pertain to keepin' Daryl safe. It's about you this time!"

She kept ignoring him. When he didn't get the response he'd expected, he heaved a loud sigh and cursed. Then his voice lowered, all the anger dissipating just like that.

It was no longer fury, but apologetic remorse, when he said, "The way my mama's life turned out… I don't wanna see that happen to you, Beth."

There was a beat. Beth's breath hitched in her chest, uncertain that she'd heard him right.

Then he sighed in exasperation and muttered, "I don't care 'bout much on the mortal plane, but I couldn't rest too easy down in Hell knowin' you was left to suffer the same life she had. Yer good people. I'll admit it, alright? You happy? And I'll also admit that you don't deserve that… But I can already tell you wouldn't know no better. Sure as shit ain't gonna listen to some dead guy. An' yer pa ain't gonna be around much longer ta say otherwise; them siblings you got don't pay enough attention. You gotta grow up 'fore it's too late. But not like that… Nah. Never like that."

She ruminated on his words for no more than a couple seconds before she finally gave in to temptation and sat up, facing him with narrowed eyes. She kept her hands clutched around the blanket at her chest. She simply couldn't ignore his ignorant presumptions for a moment longer.

She knew what he was implying. She knew what he thought he was trying to "warn" her away from. And she wasn't going to tolerate it anymore.

"You are not your father. Neither is Daryl. He would never treat me like that."

Without missing a beat, Merle tilted his head back and glared down his nose at her. "And how the fuck would you know?"

But Beth didn't waver. "Because Daryl is nothing like your dad."

Merle barked out a humorless laugh, a smirk barely cracking through his somber frown. "Y'know, from the moment I could start thinkin' fer myself, I always vowed I'd never be like my old man…"

His smirk disappeared completely.

"And look how I turned out."

She snapped her lips shut, the blood draining from her face. She could feel her stomach slowly dropping as she took in the combination of his tone and facial expression.

Is he different enough? Is he…?

"He's his own person," she argued quietly, though her voice was seriously lacking in conviction. "If anything, he probably learned from your mistakes… He would never become like your dad. Or you. Ever."

"Oh yeah?" Merle chuckled, low and emotionless. "Is that what you think? 'Cause I got news for ya…"

He raised his eyebrows and set those icy blue orbs on her as he spoke with something that could only be described as foreboding.

"This cruel world's got a way of breakin' down the best of us, girlfriend."

She didn't know what to say to that. She had no argument, even though she wanted to argue. She stared back, blinking dumbly. At a loss for words.

Merle shook his head. It looked like pity. Or shame.

"And Daryl ain't no exception."

Beth's heart was racing. She squeezed her eyes shut, though she could still see Merle in the backs of her eyelids. His words ran through her mind. Relentless repeats. Inescapable.

Then… everything went black.

For just a moment, she drifted away.

And there was someone else in her head.

to be continued…


Happy Halloween! :)