We posted this chapter since it's the second part of the previous one because Chapter 14 got too long...turns out, this became the monster chapter! :) We hope it was worth the wait!

Trigger-warning, directly follows the previous chapter

Remember: Comments and Kudos are love, give it to us!

Part 15: Challenge Accepted

After Mike uttered this, the others let out gasps and looked at each other in disbelief, as if to confirm what they had just heard. While the insulted boy's father looked too shocked to respond, other members of the party tried to stick up for his son. Even the ever placid and one never-to-blow-a-fuse One-Eyed Joe hissed over at Mike in outrage. 'What the hell did you just say to him?'

Mike didn't deign to reply and only had eyes gleaming with uncharacteristic cruelty for the boy while he waited for him to answer. Smitty, for his part, let out a nervous bark of laughter, but shut his mouth pretty quickly when Will shot daggers at him with his eyes.

Meanwhile, Daryl went bright red and was unable to do anything else other than look up at his tormentor with a pitiful expression of mingled hurt and betrayal.

It was now more clear than ever to Will that Daryl was on the verge of running upstairs, permission granted or not. So deeply embarrassed by the conversation and so unable to fight back against Mike, he had hung his head as if in shame. Yet the father silently willed him to stand up for himself, because the defeated way he was acting might lead some people present to believe that there was something in the asshole's accusations.

Nevertheless, he'd been well-trained and didn't dare leave the room until Will allowed him to. But it didn't stop him from sending frantic glances his way, silently begging his father to save him.

'He's only 13. Still a kid, for fuck's sake.' Will snapped and glared at Mike in warning. 'Leave him the fuck alone!' He added, snarling. Usually that tone was enough to stop Mike's runaway mouth but this time the bastard just kept on going, as if he and Daryl were alone without an audience.

Even then it wouldn't have been right, it would still have embarrassed his shy son. Besides, who would have been on his side to reign in Mike?

Incredibly, with all eyes on him in the room, including the enraged father's, the big man apparently couldn't care less about Daryl's mortification, as he blundered on; "Well, what I meant was -ya got yourself a little boyfriend, then? Those boys must be linin' up 'round the block jus't to get a piece of ya, huh? Ya sure got the good looks and fine bones to pass for one.'

Ignoring their aghast expressions and Will's face going pale with speechless rage at this degrading image of his son, Mike leaned forward as if he was expecting an actual answer to this outrageous question. Only the mean gleam in his eye and the vicious twist of his lips betrayed his mocking intention.

Will had time to observe that he wasn't even that drunk or high – no more than the rest of them, so what the hell was he playing at? Meanwhile, his other friends merely shook their heads and stared at the scene unfolding right in front of them.

Daryl's blush rose to a whole new level at this new attack but then his eyes suddenly flashed with anger and he turned on him belligerently. To his father's immense relief; he had finally found the words to fight back. 'No way! What's it to you, anyhow?' He snarled and glared at him.

Mike just smiled with that infuriating gentleness of his back at him, but otherwise didn't respond to this outburst. Apparently Daryl's reply was what he'd wanted to hear and he simply nodded as his self-satisfied smile grew even wider. Confirming something to himself.

His friend's knowing smirk enraged Will even further, because Mike was once again looking like he knew something about Daryl that he didn't. Fuck knew why he was allowing this humiliation of his son under his own roof.

Damn Mike! He wished Merle was here, if he was, the bastard would be bleeding on the floor after having had the living daylights knocked out of him. His older boy was like that when it came to his younger sibling. Lord knows, there was never a more protective big brother than Merle.

Yet he was Daryl's father, not him. So, why – oh why, did he find it so damn hard to stand up to the man? What was this power he held over them? Anyone else who hurt Daryl like that and Will would have laid him cold on the floor by now.

But not Mike. Too much for too long had passed between them. But if he didn't let up on Daryl he'd have to do something to protect his boy's dignity as well as his reputation and with it, his family's. Will could see it all slowly crumbling right in front of him.

He knew how to attack him in a battle of words though, so he decided to at least do that. So fixing Mike with an icy, hard stare, he grumbled: 'What the fuck's wrong with you, huh? Accusin' my boy of being a fag?! He yelled as he rose to loom over his best buddy with his fists clenched. Seconds later, he was still screaming in his face and the bastard didn't even recoil, he only looked away with an expression that was hard for Will to read.

From the corner of his eye Will caught Daryl flinching and knew he was scaring him, but he couldn't stop himself. 'Told ya to stop that shit!'

He was only shouting for now- he knew that he had to curb his anger with Daryl there, or take it outside. But by now he was so fired up, he couldn't make a decision, he could only keep venting his rage with words. What kept fueling Will's anger most was that Mike had also indirectly insulted him by suggesting that his son could be a disgusting homosexual. For example, if Merle had turned out to be one of those perverts, Will would have whipped him bloody and thrown him out of the house. He'd be damned before he let some sick perversion like that be what finally dragged the Dixon name down. Luckily, that randy boy had proved to be the very opposite.

Even suggesting such a thing was enough to cause a fight to the death between him and any other man. None of this was lost on their audience who did nothing than shift awkwardly in their seats, while watching the three of them with wide eyes and bated breath. Enjoying the free entertainment, no doubt, Will thought to himself cynically. However, he also had the feeling that like his son, they were torn and also just wanted to get out of there as fast as they could, even if it meant missing out on good quality meth.

Meanwhile Daryl stood there and stared in front of him, not daring to sit down or even move until ordered. He was a good kid and didn't deserve what Mike was dishing out. The bastard was thirty years older and at least 200 pounds heavier, was bullying him and Will simply wasn't having that.

Said man shrugged casually as he slugged back Will's beer but still failed to meet his friend's eyes which were blazing with fury. Not just account on the beer he was swigging back either. They'd brought their own booze with them, but Will was the host for the night so it went without saying that they started on his first.

Somewhere inside Will hoped that Mike being unwilling to look up at him meant that he knew somewhere deep inside him that he'd done wrong. But then again, that infuriating, superior twist of his lips betrayed his true feelings, and told Will otherwise.

Meanwhile, Smitty put his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat nervously, still hesitating to say what was on everyone's mind. Wondering what Mike was doing - antagonizing Will by insinuating that his son was a fag. As his best friend and guest too!

One-eyed Joe finally straightened up in the sofa and raked his hand over his face, obviously tired of the man's despicable behavior as he looked at Mike. 'What's ya problem? It's Daryl. Ya love that boy.'

Will nodded briskly in brief gratitude to Joe for speaking up when he himself didn't have the energy. All that he had was used up on not letting his wrath take him completely over and not kill Mike. Instead, he sat down angrily in his chair before snatching the bottle of whisky on the side-table next to him without offering any to his visitors. He was too pissed off.

Apparently seeing Daryl twisting his hands in dejected misery had got to the other men as well. Finally finding courage to speak up after letting Joe go first, Smitty added his piece after gulping down a huge mouthful of beer and slamming the can back down empty on the table.

'What the fuck is up with ya? Ya high already, Mike? He's just picky, ain't that right, Daryl?'

Answering for him so that he wouldn't have to, Will nodded over to Daryl as he suddenly declared, ''Course he's picky. Ain't no way he's wired the wrong way. Ya saying a Dixon can be a fag? I ought to take ya out and beat the living shit outta ya for just that, even if you are – were... my best friend I grew up with.'

Their audience just stared then and Will could sense them wondering again if it was time to leave and forget about the drugs and make a rapid exit. They could smell blood in the air with Mike skating on very thin ice. The others knew that something had happened between them a couple of years ago and it had taken ages afterwards for Mike to be fully reconciled to Will. Neither of the men had talked about it, so they hadn't asked. Still, it had been a big relief when Mike had been accepted back into the fold and things went back to normal. After a fashion.

What was worse though, was that the things that his friend had just said to his younger son resonated with some of Will's own most private suspicions that he'd never voiced to anybody, and his body thanked him that he had now turned to the whiskey instead of the cheap cans of horse-piss he'd offered them. Besides, he definitely needed something stronger to take the edge off this surreal conversation.

'Ya leave him alone now, Mike.' He repeated to drive his point home. 'Otherwise ya can get out now and never come back. I mean it this time.' He warned.

Will glanced over at his son and his hunched shoulders told him that he was still feeling attacked, what with all the attention that was still being directed at him. But, like a good boy, he remained standing where he was, staring down silently at the carpet, looking like he was wishing that it would swallow him up and end all his misery. Seeing him looking like that roused the father's pity. So, Will motioned him over and patted the arm of his armchair invitingly. At the same time, he thought, he also get his son away from Mike.

'Come and sit with me, son.' He suggested to him kindly and when Daryl thought it safe enough to sit down, Will immediately put a protective arm around his shoulders and glared savagely around at his guests.

'Think this is funny, do ya?' He demanded from each of them in turn, deliberately skipping Mike. They hurried to shake their heads and reassure him that they didn't.

Mike merely smiled in that annoying, smug way of his.

'Don't listen to him. He's already drunk and high most likely,' Will soothed in his teenage boy's ear so that the others couldn't hear him. Daryl found the courage then to look up from under his father's arm, and before Will knew it, he felt him relax. Probably for the first time that evening.

'Yeah, I don't usually listen to assholes…' Daryl announced loudly, locking eyes with his antagonist in a confrontational stare and straightening his spine in defiance.

Will couldn't stop himself from beaming a little at that. The others neither. What he missed however, was his son sticking his finger up at his former friend. The man only grinned back at this while his eyes twinkled with merriment, promising the boy silently that he would take up his unspoken challenge sooner or later.

Will looked back at Mike in time to see that something about his expression and body-language had drastically changed. Unnerved at this, Daryl shrank back against his father, but didn't back down from the staring match. Will reflexively tightened his hold on him and stroked his arm encouragingly behind his back. He wanted to be discrete and not risk embarrassing his son any further by babying him in front of the other men. He was also careful to avoid the places that he knew were still tender from the last beating he'd administered.

However, he unconsciously tightened his hold on his arm without realizing what he was doing at first. Still, his son didn't pull away even as two of his thick fingers roamed too close to a recent bruise, making the father wonder at his son. Because even after everything he'd done, God help him, his touch could still make Daryl feel safe, like he really needed it to right now. Will fully understood why Daryl felt unnerved by this new chain of events, and just like him, he didn't much care for Mike's facial expression or his looks.

The others kept on shifting nervously in their seats, clearly sensing that a fight was still looming but no one wanted to interfere with Will Dixon when he was angry. Or come between him and his kid when he was feeling protective.

Mike was the first to back down this time and look away, causing Will to feel yet another wave of pride towards his son when the man softened his expression. Mike let Daryl stare him down and put his hands up in patronising mock surrender. 'Calm down, Champ. Was just messin' with ya.'

Daryl snorted in derision and turned back to his father. Mike addressed Will over his head. 'Jus' a joke in poor taste, Will, I'm sorry. Didn't mean nothin' by it. But come on, ya gotta admit he's a lot different from ya and Merle at his age.'

'How so?' The other growled back dangerously.

Mike gulped and continued to try and dig himself out of the hole he'd buried himself in. He paused a moment to think how best to phrase what he wanted to say and calm his friend down at the same time.

'All I meant was ….he.. ain't got neither of yours' build, he's leaner, smaller, that's all I wanted to say. '

'That don't mean nothin'!' Joe retorted and slammed his fist on the table for emphasis.

'No...I know that...' This time Mike was the one who blushed and looked away.

'Ya should feel bad, ya damn near broke the kid's spirit...Humiliatin' him like that...Although I doubt anyone can. He's one tough kid.'

'Thanks Joe, I got it from here. You want to say somethin' else about that? Maybe somethin' more about my family? About my dead wife by any chance, ya fuckin' scumbag?' Will snarled and with his threatening tone, made the three men uncomfortable all over again. At least Mike had the good grace to look ashamed as he shook his head, but Will's anger was not to be appeased.

He pulled his son even closer against him so that Daryl's head was now resting on his broad chest but the boy didn't seem to mind. His mood was much brighter now that he'd proved himself against Mike. Now he settled on watching them argue to and fro, barely listening because they were all drunk and talking over his head anyhow.

As if he'd read his son's thoughts, he looked down at him instead, tired of eye-balling the man who was now trying to excuse his way back into his good graces. The Dixon was having none of it, after all. 'Ya talkin' shit as usual, asshole, 'cos he's still got plenty of time to fill out, ain't ya, Daryl?' Will retorted.

He suddenly felt another wave of pride since the last hunt when his son had excelled himself was still fresh in his memory. 'He can creep up on prey quiet as a mouse and shoot it down – he's the reason we always catch somethin' to eat. Don't need to be big to get the job done.'

'I didn't mean it as an insult, Will. He's a spunky kid, I thought he could take a joke or two, that's all.'

'Some joke.' The others snorted with disgust, agreeing with their host. Mike had been out of line picking on Daryl like that.

Mike shook his head, sensing the dangerous undertone in his best friend's voice. He already knew he'd gone too far by embarrassing Daryl and mocking his manhood like that. But it was just too damn easy.

'Think ya done having your fun at the expense of my boy, ya fuckin' coward?' He suddenly hissed confrontationally.

'For now.'

All eyes was directed at him then in shock, but he answered them all with a huge grin. 'I mean until your other boy shows up. Merle can take jokes like this, knows I'm only messin' with him.'

'Merle's almost 18, idiot. There's a big difference between 'em.' Mark piped up again. 'Ya punchin' beneath ya weight when ya say that shit about his younger brother.'

'That's damn right. If Merle was here and he heard you sayin' that crap to his little brother...' Will whistled when he couldn't find the words to describe what his oldest son would do. 'Mark my words…'

'Easy, Will. He's probably just tripping on somethin'. He ain't worth it...Leave him be.' Joe laid a hand on his shoulder which he immediately shook off angrily. Still unable to calm himself down.

"Ya ever talk to him like that or behave like a fuckin' madman and scare him again, you're gonna have me to deal with. Merle too, and believe me when I say he'd hurt ya worse than I ever could.'

Daryl smirked across at him from where he felt himself made secure by his father's side, as well as by his words. At the same time, he could feel his body shaking with anger.

Sensing that their host was well on his way to exploding once more, his cronies sat there in uneasy silence, wondering if they should leave him and Mike to thrash out their differences in private. But nobody moved, not wishing to appear rude and thus inflame Will further.

After the necessary confrontation with Mike, Will did try his best to brush the incident off. He must be imagining things… The looks, the words containing filthy innuendo just under the surface. Not to mention the way Mike was reveling in embarrassing his thirteen-year-old son that only increased the surrealism of the situation.

Even though he hated himself for it, he couldn't stop his own troubled mind from wondering if this was all him projecting his own guilty conscience onto Mike? Trying to convince himself that he wasn't the only one with sick thoughts about his son and in that way, make himself feel better.

The man did have a tendency to be brutally honest without giving much thought to what he was saying, that was nothing new. But he'd never treated Daryl that way before - he'd never been cruel. The exact opposite, in fact. He used to be fiercely protective of the boy, often even going against Will.

But what spoke against Mike, and was feeding Will's doubts was the way he seemed to enjoy it a little too much when their conversation caused Daryl to blush furiously. Even more so when the boy stubbornly maintained eye-contact with him in a battle of wills, it had been uncomfortable to watch for all of them up until the point where he'd forced Mike to back down.

Something about the whole thing seemed off, and later, he would wonder why he didn't kick Mike out straightaway when he first started to attack Daryl. Instead, he'd allowed himself and his son to be made into a mockery of in his own home. But he was tired and drunk and not thinking straight. He sighed, suddenly fed up with it all, and ended with; 'Ain't nobody callin' my son a fag. Not even you, Mike."

A couple of tense minutes passed by before Smitty broke the silence and told some stories about the stupid things some travelers had done at their local bar Marty's. It eased some of the tension and soon they were all laughing along with him, even Daryl.

Will still kept a tight grip on his boy though, enjoying the feel of him when he knew he should have sent him up to bed the moment Mike had started acting weird. But they were all enjoying themselves too much now, because Smitty as a comedian was a natural, and his missing teeth did nothing to detract from the humor of his hilarious stories.

Nevertheless, the tension eased between all of them, even from Will as time went by. Mike's questionable behavior became less and less memorable with each swig of beer they gulped down, in Will's case whiskey. Somehow, even he was able to put the earlier altercation to the back of his mind and explain it away.

He'd regret it later.

Gradually, he slumped back more and more and sometime during the middle of Smitty's latest joke, eventually his hand loosened from around his son. He didn't even notice when Daryl got up and slipped away from them.

Soon they all settled down again, each to get their breath back after suffering uncontrollable fits of laughter, thanks to Smitty. They were feeling much better for it too, apparently that was what they all needed. Although, it didn't take Will long to revert back to his suspicious train of thought where his friend was concerned and he started to check up on him again. When he did, he found himself following the object of Mike's focused gaze before he even knew it.

Realizing its target made his blood boil all over again because the bastard was staring straight at his son through the open kitchen door, through which the sound of water running down the sink could be heard. Normally, Will would have at least yelled at him not to waste precious water but he barely noticed it then. Because Mike was staring at Daryl who had stretched out to be able to reach the shelf high above the sink to get himself a clean glass. Of course it was too high for him and he had to really stretch to get it. As a result of his efforts, his shirt had rucked up a little to reveal a smooth patch of skin, fortunately not a part that was scarred or injured recently to the father's immense relief.

Mike was just staring at Daryl's flat midriff as if he was mesmerized.

Naturally, Will couldn't stand the way he was looking at his son any longer, so he cleared his throat loudly, forcing the man to take his eyes off Daryl and turn his attention back to them.

When he noticed that Will had seen him looking, he just smiled sheepishly: "Just checking if he needs help. We both know he ain't one for askin', don't we, Will? Stubborn like his ole man, ain't he?'

Will clenched his teeth at that but ignored it and scowled before he addressed his son: 'Go up to bed now, Daryl, and take your glass of water with you. I'll see ya in the morning.'

Daryl didn't need to be asked twice and he was out of there like a shot without looking at anybody. Will felt a deep sense of relief as he watched him go, anyway, he knew he must be bored and tired by now. This was no place for him to be after all, surrounded by all these drunk old men, soon to be very high old men. More worryingly, despite opening up every window they had, Will knew soon that there would be fumes floating around that he didn't want his son breathing in.

'Now the fun really starts.' The host laughed but it sounded strained to the others' ears as they got their pipes out and he went to the secret place where he hid his little baggie of drugs. He glanced up at the clock and saw that it was already a quarter to ten. Damn! They could have started earlier if he'd sent Daryl to his room before, but it wouldn't have been fair to him to send him to bed so early. He wasn't a small child after all.

Then the whole thing with Mike had got out of hand and eaten into their time, and Will had been distracted from the drugs since they hadn't finished drinking. In fact, there was still Smitty's beer to get through and so they still had quite a lot of drink left.

'Now, this here is potent shit all the way from Amsterdam.' He took the courtesy to warn them first but received smirks all around for his trouble. 'Got it from Randy and he got it from a contact in Atlanta who knew a Dutchman. Enjoy.'

He walked back into the room and made sure to open all the windows while his mind still was alert enough for him to worry about the effects of them smoking meth might have on Daryl. Despite it, he finally produced the bag with a dramatic flourish as he took his seat.

Everybody thanked him as they started to fill and heat up their pipes – no questions asked. They all knew what to do and soon they were leaning back against their seats, lost in a haze of bliss.

Will got proof enough of his suspicions later, confirming that he hadn't imagined a single thing that had passed between Mike and Daryl. Not the looks, not the meaning of the extra attention, or the sleazy undertone Mike had used when speaking to his son… Everything soon became very clear.

After this new set of events played out by his best friend that evening, Will made a promise to himself to stay alert. Knowing for a fact that Mike wasn't just somebody you kicked out of the house with no explanation. One thing he did know, he'd be damned to let someone else eyeball his son like that.

For that privilege was his alone.

He clutched the whiskey bottle in his lap, he still hadn't offered it around and he didn't intend to. But that didn't mean that he didn't stop drinking when he could feel that the hard liquor combined with the meth was starting to make him feel fuzzy. Something made him afraid to sit there with a cloudy judgement, but he didn't quite know why at the time.

So, whenever he felt that sleep was just around the corner, he would smoke a little more of the drug to take care of the problem. He did this also to make sure that he stayed in control of the situation at all times – what had gone on that evening made him want to be more alert for Daryl's sake.

Will would've felt a lot more relaxed and able to let himself zone out completely if Merle had been home or had taken Daryl away with him tonight. With everything concerning Daryl, Will trusted Merle completely, knowing that the boy was usually a good big brother to him. When he was in a fit state, of course.

But of course he wasn't at home on a Saturday night, not with his 18th coming next week. Usually, he didn't go out if Will informed him that Will's gang were coming around to party hard and that they would probably end up staying the night. Something they almost always did whenever they got together. Because lately, when Merle couldn't be there, he would normally shoo Daryl to stay the night at his best friend Marcus' house.

Just like he sensed something about Mike – his mind whispered again to him, but he brushed it aside as paranoia. Yet, unbidden, his suspicions about his best friend refused to let him go. Had something happened when they'd stayed at Mike's place two years ago? Merle hadn't mentioned it but that didn't mean anything really.

There usually was no smoke without fire.

Even though Mike hadn't been included for a long time, Merle'd only become more reluctant to leave Daryl with any of his Dad's cronies since they got back home after their stay at Mike's.

Slowly, reluctantly, Will was starting to fit the pieces of the puzzle together even if he really didn't want to.

Still, he had to wonder about all this, especially as he recalled, things had cooled between Mike and Merle too, about the same time they had between Mike and Daryl. But he'd never asked why. Now he wished more than anything that he had. Did Merle know something about Mike that Will didn't? Or was it that he didn't want Daryl to see them getting drunk and taking drugs? Will stifled a chuckle at that thought, since that would be the pot calling the kettle black coming from Merle, that

eternal junkie, but still...

But he had to give it to him, he knew about drugs and what effects they had on people. He probably believed it better, no safer - if Daryl was with him, away from them all...

What was he afraid of?

But this time Merle had failed in his big brotherly duty or more likely, he planned to show up later tonight. Yeah, Will mentally nodded to himself, somewhere in the haze he remembered Merle saying something about that before he left. This thought made him feel a little better.

But not much.

Despite his best efforts to stay awake, his body's need for rest overrode his fear and worry for his youngest and he started to nod off where he was sitting. He had hoped that the meth would've kept him going...

Meanwhile upstairs, Mike had snuck in to where the boy was sleeping and he smiled when he saw how conveniently he was lying on his stomach. Grinning, he fished out the little jar of lube he'd brought just for this special occasion and then he took good care to sit down softly on the bed so as not to wake him up. He wanted to surprise him, after all.

Mike lifted his shirt up to get a good look at the perfection he'd only got a glimpse of earlier in the kitchen. Skin as smooth as…, he drew in a breathe of awe but then he froze. Bastard, I told him..., he thought angrily when he saw the healing welts and scars on his back and side criss-crossing each other, at least one long slash must have come from a knife. Even Mike didn't want to look to see if there were any fading bruises elsewhere on his body – he didn't doubt that there were.

Yet, even his indignation and disgust at his friend didn't stop him as he gave into temptation and traced a finger over them, jolting Daryl wide awake. When he noticed Mike there, he immediately tried to get off the bed, but instantly got pushed back down again as effortlessly as if he were a feather.

'Ain't such a tough little man now without ya Daddy around, are you?' His pursuer taunted.

His slim body tensed up in alarm at that, prompting Mike to grab him roughly by the arm to prevent him from doing something stupid - like attempt to escape. Escape from what? Not like this little tango had been only one-sided, after all. He was the adult here and could read the juvenile's signals just fine.

But Daryl was still acting coy apparently, no doubt to build up the anticipation, the little minx.

'Fuck off', he hissed quite convincingly and wrenched his arm away, actually only succeeding because Mike allowed it. He knew by everything the boy had said during the evening, that deep down he wanted this. All he needed was just some well-directed guidance and expert seduction from an experienced adult like him and he'd have him begging for it in the end.

Mike pushed him down again at his second pathetic attempt to get off the bed. When Daryl rearranged his shirt modestly to try and cover himself again, Mike only shook his head and looked at him with that creepy, little smile on his face.

'Oh no, no, no, don't you dare try to act hard to get. Flirted with me downstairs all night, shamelessly in front of all of them, if I might add.'

'Did fuckin' not! Pissed me off is what ya did with ya sick questions!'

'Yeah? ''Cos maybe there some truth in what I said? Ya done anythin' with a boy before?'

Daryl turned away and snarled in disgust.'No, sick fuck! Already told ya I ain't wired that way!'

'Well, now ya jus' parrotin' what ya Daddy said. How about you tell me how you really feel?'

'You're on somethin', asshole! I told ya I never...'

Mike grabbed him again, this time by the collar of his shirt, more to keep him put than anything else. He wasn't a strong advocate of violence at the end of the day, especially on those smaller and weaker than himself and he wasn't about to start now. Because what Joe had said was true. He did love this boy.

This unexpected move cut short Daryl's protests as he looked up at him in shock and Mike saw that he still had no idea what was going to happen and it curbed his own aggression and frustration towards him and he released him. Seeing his confusion, the man tried another tactic, hoping he would have more luck if he tried a more softer approach. Namely, try and win the boy's confidence but the whole time he was aware of time running out. If he didn't hurry up, he knew he wouldn't get to do anything with him, they could be interrupted at any time. 'It's OK, jus' between us two. Ya Daddy don't have to know...' He crooned. 'No need to pretend...'

He seized him by the top of the arms and started to manhandle him into the position he wanted him in.

'Let me go!'

Mike ignored his protests and just pushed him further into the mattress. Daryl clearly didn't know what to do as he in his fear and anger tried to bite him.

'Why, you stubborn little shit.' Despite the close call, Mike couldn't hold back his amusement. But he knew he had to remind the boy who was boss now to subdue him because next time it could be more than a insignificant finger he tried to bite off. Daryl let out a frustrated yell in his helplessness when he felt himself being flipped round again on his stomach.

To prove his point that he was the one with all the power in this relationship, Mike brutally pinned both his arms behind his back, holding his slender wrists with one hand no problem, before he replaced it with his knee. Daryl didn't cry out in pain but thrashed like a banshee as he fought him but he was no match.

Mike knew that for him the not knowing what was going to happen must be the worst part, but he wouldn't keep his childish innocence for much longer, he planned to teach him all about it.

'Now, now...Behave.'

Daryl obeyed and went limp, probably realising that struggling did him no good anyhow. Because really, what was he trying to achieve? Even if Mike let his guard down and he got downstairs...what could he possibly tell them that wouldn't sound ridiculous? He doubted Will would believe him. Most likely, he would just end up beating the shit out of him for telling lies. Such disgusting lies at that when he knew that Daryl wanted this, therefore Mike simply refused to let him play the victim. He couldn't both have his cake and eat it.

Mike chuckled as he let Daryl think that he was going to show him mercy right before he dipped his fingers in the jar he'd already opened. He slathered them generously with lube and made sure that they were completely covered before he ran them down the boy's crack. Daryl gasped at the unfamiliar sensation and squirmed and to Mike's meth and alcohol-befuddled brain it sounded like he liked it.

'Sh...' Mike stroked his hair like he used to years ago. 'Ya Dad been whippin' ya again?' There was a hard edge to his voice. 'He fuckin' cut ya too?'

'No, he didn't.' Daryl breathed out, with slightly more panic in his voice. 'Jus' get off me. I won't tell 'em...Uncle Mikey, I p...promise, but only if ya stop now.'

Mike scoffed and wondered why the little tease thought he could bargain with him or believe that he would ever stop. Getting this far with the others passed out downstairs had been the golden opportunity he'd been waiting for once he'd decided Daryl was old enough to take it.

To let him know that he had no chance of getting out of this, Mike caressed the side of his face while he cringed away. 'Don't worry, son. I won't hurt ya, not like ya Daddy does.' He knew he should have been sickened at what he was doing but he just couldn't stop tormenting the boy.

'He doesn't!' Daryl fired back. 'Please, please, let me go.'

'Keep telling yourself that you don't want it if it makes you feel better, but we both know the truth, don't we?' When all Mike got in reply was the Dixon kicking out at him in frustration, he picked the boy up from the bed, and pushed him down onto his knees.

'Better start off this dance slow, huh? I'm disappointed…We just don't have time for me to prepare ya properly… Not with your dad and the others downstairs, he never was a heavy-sleeper, was he?'

'Prepare me for what?' Daryl demanded of him furiously.

The man smiled at the large innocent blue eyes looking up at him. 'Sh...Can't very well just shove it inside you, with you as ya are…I'd split ya right open. Wouldn't want that. I'll make our first time special, I promise ya, Squirrel, with hardly no pain.'

'Don't call me that, fucker!' Daryl fired back but then went pale and bit his lip, as Mike only grinned down at him. He was overjoyed now that he finally had the boy he'd lusted after for years right where he wanted him and nobody would believe of him, even if he did try and tell someone afterwards. In his drug-addled and boozed-up haze, Mike truly believed that he was invincible. Better, he thought smugly to himself, it looked like all the fight had suddenly left his victim when he fixed his eyes on a spot on the floor, looking exactly like he did earlier that evening when he'd felt like there was no place to go.

He couldn't have been more wrong though, because when Daryl looked up, he was met with that famous, pitiless Dixon stare that belied the embarrassed flush on his face. Daring him again like he'd challenged two hours before. But that combination of vulnerability and defiance suited Mike just fine even after he checked himself from recoiling instinctively at that belligerent gaze.

This boy was just too perfect! There'd be no holding back from him now, whatever he said to threaten or curse him.

'I warned ya before, Squirrel, ya play with the big boys, ya gonna get hurt. But ya didn't listen...' He shook his head at him mournfully as he unzipped his pants with deliberate slowness right in front of the frightened boy.

...

The second Will opened his eyes again he checked them over. They were pretty drunk and high by now, all of them - Mark, Smitty, One-eyed Joe. Nodding with idiotic, blissful smiles on their faces and talking slurring nonsense. But where was Mike? He was missing! Will sat upright then, panic and anger taking turns to churn in his gut, sensing that something was terribly wrong. If anything had happened to his son because he had passed out, failed to keep him safe...

That fear combined with the fact of Daryl's smallness compared to that giant of a man with more muscle than fat… he wouldn't have a chance against the bastard if... He couldn't allow himself to finish that thought, he was too afraid to.

He furiously shook his head, trying to clear it as quickly as possible. "How long was I out for?"

"About ten minutes,' Smitty laughed, infuriatingly oblivious. 'It all got the better of ya, didn't it?" He laughed before he added, 'What's up? Gettin' too old for it, Will?'

He stood up, not bothering to reply. 'How long's Mike been gone?' He snapped. 'And where did he go?'

''Bout the same time as you went out...went up to take a piss, I reckon.' Smitty shrugged casually, his blood-shot eyes almost rolling back in his head.

"Fucking hell…" Will wasn't sure but he thought he saw a glint of understanding in the one eye Joe had left before he got up as well. Will waved him down again before he headed for the stairs with furious determination. Just before he started climbing them however, he did the one thing that might have put his mind at rest.

"Daryl?!" No answer. Silence. "Bloody hell, boy! Better answer me, I'm not mad at ya, son, jus' wanna check ya OK up there, 's all."

Still no answer. But had Will really expected one?

'Son of a bitch…' He cursed under his breath as he started to make his way up the stairs as quickly and silently as he could. At the same time his heart was pounding in his ears and anxiety squeezing his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. He prayed that he wouldn't drop down dead of a heart-attack.

His stomach wasn't doing much better as it seemed like he was carrying a barrel of dread, heavy as lead in it for what he would find.