Part 17: Justice is served

Is Will going to kill Mike? Would it be a great loss to the world if he did? And where the hell is Merle?

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Meanwhile, Daryl had emerged from under the pillow from where he was doing his best not to hear what was going on downstairs, but he couldn't help it. He could barely hear Mike except for the occasional agonised screams and what sounded like low murmurs punctuated by groans and moans. They were very different to the ones before when Mike had made him take him in his mouth and he knew that his Dad was really hurting him.

Just hearing his voice was enough to make him shake uncontrollably.

His throat hurt from where Mike had been less than gentle as he became more excited, his cheek was throbbing and on top of everything, he was worried sick. Even though his Dad had called him 'baby' (something he'd never done before) and seemed to be on his side when he rushed in, Daryl couldn't be totally sure he wouldn't blame him later on.

Blame him like Mike had said he would and punish him anyway because maybe there was some truth in what Mike had said? That he must have given him the wrong idea somehow that he was willing or would be if only given time. Why had he tried to do what he'd tried to do otherwise? Why had he acted like he didn't exist for so long if Daryl hadn't done anything wrong in the first place?

Just then a series of particularly violent shudders shook his narrow frame and he was overcome with the need to rush out of his bedroom to hang his head over the toilet to vomit. After that, he was going to brush his teeth until his gums bled and scald his skin scarlet under the shower to erase any lingering scent of the man. He would try to erase the feel of those greedy, groping touches that seemed to have done their level best to devour him.

He clutched at his knees where he was sitting in the middle of his bed and surpressed a whimper when he could still recall the strange sensation of having Mike in his mouth – slick, slimy with his own spit, not to mention the distinct taste of him that he just couldn't get rid of. When he stood up, he was instantly reminded of the other thing Mike had nearly done before his Daddy came in. That weird gel was still in him, and at the same time as Mike had replaced his fingers with something much bigger, the man had forced his legs apart with not so gentle hands. His fingers had been slicked in the disgusting stuff and he had smeared what remained across Daryl's bare skin. Worse than that, he could still feel the man's rough, ravenous touch that had hurt him combined with the panic of not being able to breathe properly when he'd been on top of him. Quickly followed by the revolting sensation of Mike pressing his...his...thing against his backside. Daryl couldn't suppress letting out a quiet sob of disgust at the memory. He didn't even think his Daddy could blame him for being terrified when he had felt the relentless pressure of it as the man prepared to slowly enter him.

But he didn't get to, thanks to his Dad. But he'd been so horrifying close.

Nevertheless, once he'd got some control over himeself, Daryl grimaced in disgust as he walked towards the door.

He let out a few more muted sobs as he tried to push the memories away, but of course he couldn't and he dry-retched as a result.

After the heaves passed, he was left standing with his hand clutching the doorknob knowing it was crucial for him to be as quiet as possible. His dad for one thing had told him to stay put in bed and when Daryl didn't do exactly what he was told, one thing for sure was that his mistake would be pointed out to him afterwards.

Usually involving pain.

Lots of it.

Merely fear of his Dad making him pay for Mike while he was at it made him take a step back. After all, if it wasn't for him, his Dad wouldn't be beating the shit out of his best friend right now.

Knowing that it was pretty unlikely that his daddy would hear him though, since he was caught up too much in the deadly serious conversation he was having with his former buddy gave him courage. Heart thudding in his chest, Daryl dared to open the door, and take a step forward out onto the landing. He wondered distantly if his father was going to kill Mike, feeling strangely detached about the possibility. Why couldn't he make himself care? Was his Dad really capable of murder? Hearing what he was saying and how Mike screamed and moaned in agony every now and then, it sure sounded like it just then.

When he felt his stomach turn again and the nausea attack him, Daryl decided to take the risk of being heard by them.

He was just psyching himself up to make a break for the bathroom and got almost half way when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Mike's voice more clearly. Even though he had been expecting to, it gave him the goosebumps from hell and he found himself standing with his back pressed up against the wall suddenly too scared to even move.

As a result he was forced to stay there and listen to how Mike's voice suddenly changed as he now yelled angrily back at his father: 'Ya forget I know what ya did. To Merle too... ya cut 'em up, whipped'em and burned 'em with ya cigarettes! And I was good to them! So, if I'm sick, you're no better.''

The boy cowered and uttered a timid whimper of terror and tried in vain to get his legs to work again. Because to Daryl just then, it seemed like the man was back in his room with him again. Freaked out at his body shutting down like that, feeling powerless to move, he took a few deep breaths instead. Yet the voices raged on and on downstairs and when Daryl realised that Mike wasn't coming up there, he managed to calm down enough to walk back to his own room on unsteady legs. As he closed the door behind him, he slid down against it with a deep sigh of relief before he sank his head miserably to his knees and wrapped his arms around them.

He still felt so dirty and ashamed and wanted to cleanse himself of Mike more than anything but he couldn't stop himself trembling, much less go back out there. It was better this way too, he had no way of knowing just how long his Dad was going to let Mike have it, and if he was back in his bed where he was supposed to be, there was far less chance of making him angry. Especially as he already sounded pretty upset and furious with Mike. If only he could make himself go to sleep, maybe he would wake up in the morning and all this would be like it never happened, just another bad dream...

Somehow, in his emotional exhaustion, he managed to fall into an uneasy sleep with his back against the door.

...

As his son fell asleep upstairs, Will stared down at Mike, too furious to even reply at the gall of the man. Implying he was just as bad as him like that. He was also worried that the others would hear. It was true that he'd had to punish Daryl only last week for spilling his beer all over the carpet and wasting good booze when he was handing it over to him. The kid's damn hands were always so shaky. Mike had seen the results when he tore his clothes off, that must be it. But the necessary whipping was nothing compared to what the bastard had tried to do to him tonight.

'Stop bringing up old shit to make yourself look better! Ya can't compare a few lickings with what you tried to do to him!' Will finally found his voice again.

'Maybe,...maybe I just wanted a little something back in return.' Mike flicked his tongue over his lower lip and even now, there was a little gleam of lust in his eyes that made Will want to kill him right then.

'A little something back from Daryl? A blow-job or lettin' ya fuck him – that what ya call 'gratitude'?' He yelled, no longer caring if someone had decided to stick around for the show. He'd barely registered his guests leaving, he'd been so out of his mind with anger.

'Of course not, not like that. I just wanted to bring out the father out in ya… protecting him like ya should.'

'Ya touch him when he stayed with ya before when ya were wantin' to 'bring out the father in me, ya useless fuck?' Will drew back his workboot and kicked the other man as hard in the gut as he could. 'What a pathetic excuse, even for you!'

Just the thought of him with his filthy hands all over his little boy was enough to make him see red again and he smiled with savage satisfaction when he thought he heard one or more of the bastard's ribs crack.

'No! 'Course not!' Mike spluttered, groaning in agony, struggling to get even those short words out.

'You know, I might even have bought that if I hadn't seen the hard-on you had while pinning him to the bed so that he couldn't move! With him pleadin' with you to stop!' Will gave him an even harder kick and was gratified to hear him let out a scream of pain this time. 'But ya didn't, did ya?'

Will was shaking out of anger and pure tension, and he really wished he had someone by his side to back him up. He cursed the others mentally for their lack of support even has they had witnessed this and what came before. But he should have known the others would have got away as quick as they could – all of them were reluctant to take Mike on. Free-loading, useless sons-of-bitches, the lot of them...he cursed them silently.

Still, there was a good chance that they'd heard everything and would spread the word about what Mike was. What he'd tried to do to Daryl - it would be all over the village and beyond, well before the next day. So Will was sure if he failed to punish him sufficiently, other men -not these meth-heads he called friends - especially those who were parents, would eagerly take up the slack.

If Mike was still alive by the end of this, that was. Will hadn't yet decided whether he was going to let him live or not and besides, maybe there were things worse than death...That got his imagination going and his lips twisted in a little mean grin of spite.

'How many boys?' Will demanded from him again when his victim had somewhat recovered. He hadn't been completely satisfied with the bastard's answer although deep down he knew he spoke the truth.

'Only Daryl – I swear on Maggie's grave...' The sound of Mike's thin voice threaded with pain brought him back to the present.

'Only Daryl! My son? That all?' Will screamed, besides himself with fury. He didn't know how to best deal with all the rage he was feeling, he was momentarily taken aback with all the various emotions that were sweeping over him. Some even conflicting... Everything would be easier if he had someone to have his back and was by his side. Naturally, his thoughts flew to his eldest. Where was Merle when Daryl and him needed him the most? Off screwing some short-skirted floozy, he supposed. Will came to the conclusion that he was on his own, at least for the time being as he turned his attention back to the man lying on the floor in agony.

'By the time I'm finished, you'll be drinking from a straw for the rest of your pathetic life. Ya gonna be beggin' for death, you fuckin' child-molester!'

Mike just lay there – dazed, with his forehead bleeding from the fall. Will noted with satisfaction that his leg was twisted at an unnatural angle beneath him, probably broken. Looking down on him in a weird mixture of hatred and pity, his eyes held a grim gleam of satisfaction because it appeared that he had sustained more injuries when he fell than Will had originally thought.

He shook his head at him. 'Why did ya do it, Mike? What got into you, huh?' His tone turned regretful – they both knew that this only had one possible ending. In this way, Will was saying goodbye to the man who'd been like a brother to him for most of his life, had his back, protected him and fought with him.

This would be the last time he would address him as if he weren't already dead. Or one of the 'walking dead' on Death Row.

'I...I don't know. I'm sorry!'

But even this did nothing to keep his rage in check as it surged back over him again.

'Fuckin' piece of shit! Scum of the earth! My own son – how could ya? He was fuckin' cryin'!' Will screamed as he started to kick him all over his body without pause this time – but mostly in his already injured back and gut as the other man curled up into a ball on the floor, instinctively covering his head with his arms.

'He was cryin', Mike. He was fuckin' cryin'!' Will's voice grew momentarily quieter as he took a brief respite to catch his breath before laying into him again, just as savagely.

Mike tried to protect the most vulnerable part of him. He reminded Will of Daryl when he did that, but instead of making him stop, it only made him kick him harder.

'How could ya do it to any kid? He's thirteen fuckin' years old, for fuck's sake! That's probably not the worst part of it though, huh? Been shooting him those dirty looks of yours for quite some time after ya ignored him for years. Now I know why. Oh, I 've seen ya, I just refused to really see it, ya know? Now my boy's paid the price. Think you're smart, a big man, for settin' on a kid like that?'

His own words only added more fuel to his fire even though Mike was in too much agony to reply. Even though the man was writhing in pain and was pleading for mercy by now, it wasn't enough. Would never be enough. How long would it take Daryl to get over it if he ever really did?

Will knew he himself wouldn't. Not with the memory of what he was saying and doing to his sweet, innocent boy – and what he had nearly done to him – it was all burned into his mind forever. To top it all off, there were the things that the bastard had said and done to him behind closed doors before Will could get there. He would probably never know for sure what had happened unless Daryl told him. The images kept flashing before him...of things he had fantasised about doing himself with the boy. Will felt sick at himself.

Mixed up in all the tide of emotions was that of fatherly pride. The boy had fought back even if he had whimpered a little at a mere slap, or the fact that he'd started crying towards the end when he realised that Mike really meant to go through with it. This was one of those rare times where Will didn't blame him for breaking down. Nevertheless, the most important thing was that his boy had stood his ground, long enough at least for him to get there, no matter what the scumbag had threatened him with. Not once did he make it easy on the much bigger man, even if he did have every odd stacked up against him. He'd been submissive, but he hadn't given up until the very last second when Will kicked down the door to find Mike was on top of him. Just in time to carry out a rescue that had taken much too long.

The large man spat out a considerable amount of blood and looked up at him with a totally different expression in his eyes this time. Was he begging for mercy? Understanding or forgiveness?

'Please...I'll hand myself in to the cops...I know I'm sick...I won't ever make the same mistake again...See... I always managed to deal with it before and not hurt anyone. But he was fightin' me every step of the way…making me angry and then everything went wrong. I swear I didn't mean things to go so far with him.'

"Course he was fightin' ya. He's a Dixon! Ya thought he'd go down easy?'

'I never meant to go so far.'

'Yeah, heard ya the first time. And I'm sorry, didn't realise that ya weren't going to fuck him, ya only wanted to shove ya dick down his throat. That's why ya were on top of him with both your pants down 'round ya ankles?' He scoffed. 'Who do ya think you're foolin'? I heard ya! Ya call that breakin' him in slowly, huh?'

He straddled the other man and let his fists do the talking before he continued: "You were a real piece of work when you were sweet-talkin' him, too. Ya jus' had to mark up his face first to get him in the mood, huh?'

'You heard that? Took you long enough if that's the-' Now Mike's voice was full of accusation and surprise.

Will was taken aback momentarily and his fist was left frozen in mid-air. Focusing on his own anger and making Mike pay, he'd forgotten to keep track on everything he was supposed to have heard. Nevertheless, he recovered quickly enough when his fist connected with Mike's temple. 'Can ya blame me? Couldn't believe my fucking ears! Don't try to turn this around, I'm not the one who just tried to rape a 13-year-old kid!'

'Will…I'm sorry… I swear, I would've been gentle with him even though I know I had no right to... Never meant to go so far. Everything went wrong, things just snowballed, piled up and I... I tried to make it right…"

'By asking him how he liked it? Slow and gentle or rough, weren't it? Tellin' him not to cry! He was fuckin' terrified!' Recalling his son's fear, he aimed another savage fist at his nose and Mike miraculously dodged the blow. Will snarled but continued.

'I know that ya weren't ever going to take it slow with him, weak fuck. Ya would have been rough with him whatever he said, ya just wouldn't be able to help yourself.'

'Didn't mean nothin' by it. I mean it, Will. I would've been careful with him.'

'No, I don't think so… Besides, ya think that he believed that? Or that I give a shit? Ya scared him half to death!"

'I know. I'm sorry… I swear I would never have hurt him. Not really. Ya know I adore that kid."

"Yeah, in more ways than one, ya filthy pervert!

'Please... I'll hand myself in to the cops...I know I'm sick...I got a problem...Jus' stop, please.'

His friend's wheezy breathing was music to Will's ears. At the same time, he wanted to inflict as much pain as possible before the bastard passed out. He wanted Mike to feel the panic and helplessness Daryl had felt. If only for a few seconds. To completely be at somebody else's mercy, or lack thereof.

'Don't give a shit.' Will repeated as he got up and eyed him coldly and Mike, even in his agony had time to reflect that this icy-cold rage was somehow worse than the blind fury he's witnessed in the past. It was more calculated and when he saw it, something in his mind snapped.

When Will got hold of the cheap arm chair and easily broke its wooden leg off over his knee and waved it in his face, Mike's eyes grew wide in terror. Especially when he saw the rusty nails sticking out from it.

'Please, don't...I'm sorry. I know there ain't nothin' I can do to make this right but please don't.'

Will smirked when the realization came that he'd finally broken the tough man just like he'd broken his son. Now the bastard was sounding just like Daryl had when his panic was at its peak.

'How dare ya come here, drink my beer, eat my food and then try to fuck my little boy?' He hissed and Mike saw only hate and fury in those merciless Dixon eyes. All old friendship all forgotten.

Will raised the wooden leg, was about to let it come crashing over his head, when he heard the front door crash open and Merle came swanning in. More than a little drunk, probably high as the sky in addition. But he wasn't too out of it for his eyes to grow wide when he saw the scene in front of him. Mike lying there bloody and broken with his father about to hit him over the head with the chair leg. Not thinking, Merle dropped the keys on the floor, face questioning.

'Bout damn time you showed up, ya missed quite a show!' His father shot over at him with bitter sarcasm.

'Wha..the fuck? Dad?' Merle's mouth still gaped in shock and disbelief.

Will dropped the chair leg on top of Mike apparently carelessly, but he aimed it to make sure it would land with the nails facing down and he smiled as Mike screamed in agony. Merle looked on as if frozen before he bent down to remove the piece of wood piercing his back.

'Better leave it boy, if you know what's best for ya.' Will growled dangerously at him. 'Besides, ya really don't want to do that.'

'What the fuck ya doin', Dad? Have ya gone totally crazy?'

'I caught this piece of shit tryin' to fuck Daryl.' Will answered typically with no preamble.

That made Merle tear his hand away as if Mike was on fire.

Will only needed to look at his eldest son to know that Merle believed him and that Mike was entirely on his own. Merle's pupils had dilated in his anger and appeared to be almost black as he stared down at the man in rage and disgust enough to mirror his father's.

'Please...' Mike wheezed and reached out a hand while he looked up at the older boy, as if entreating him. 'Don't let him kill me.'

But Merle snapped his teeth at him with a look of pure revulsion on his face.

'I invite him over and he thanks me by trying to screw your baby brother! Can you believe it, Merle?'

Will was glad he looked at his son when he did. If he hadn't, he would have missed the way Merle's eyes slid away from his as if none of this was as big a surprise as he made it out to be. In fact, he looked completely guilt-ridden. What had the boy been keeping from him, and more importantly, could it have saved Daryl his ordeal? In that case, it would be his fault. Will made a promise to himself then to get the truth out of his eldest after they'd dealt with Mike – now was not the time.

Instead of blowing yet another fuse, Will settled on what was needed doing first. 'Go upstairs and ask ya brother. He'll tell you.'

'Is...Is he OK?' Merle's voice rose in concern. 'He didn't ...didn't...' Uncharacteristically for him, he couldn't say the words when the older Dixon brother didn't usually get tongue-tied when it came to talking about sex. The very opposite, in fact. But this time was different as he just stared down at Mike with an unreadable expression.

'No. Jus' got there in time. But naturally he's in a bit of a state. Ya wanna go and check up on him while I get rid of this bag of shit?'

Mike winced at being called that and tried to get up again in vain, but Will just kicked him back down again. 'You stay down. Ya should know half of the stuff I heard this piece of crap saying to him, Merle. How he behaved before. I feel so stupid for not seeing what he was planning all fucking night. When he first started on your brother, callin' him a fag, askin' him if he had a boyfriend, I put it all down to the drugs and booze. Even gave him the benefit of the doubt and it just turned out that Mikey here just had a disgusting little thing for him the whole time.'

Merle backed away, only to deliver a forceful kick with his heel downwards to Mike's unprotected groin. 'That's for my brother, ya filthy piece of crap!'

The air left the man momentarily from the excruciating pain shooting through his entire body.

Will grimaced involuntarily, knowing just how much that must've hurt, and smiled at his son. 'Nicely done, Merle. Surely that ain't all you've got?'

Merle replied with a savage little grin. 'That was only the beginning.'

Mike's breathing was now ragged as he realised that they were for real. The possibility of them killing him was extremely high judging by the pure hate they were both radiating towards his direction and how quickly they'd slammed him back down when he tried to get up. Never showing an ounce of mercy even though they both knew he wouldn't be able to get far should he succeed. His broken ribs and leg made it impossible even if he could block out some of the pain.

He was as helpless with them as Daryl was with him and he had to admit wryly to himself that maybe there was some kind of ironic justice in that. They were both watching him like a hawk and when he saw a look of understanding pass between father and son, ending with Merle nodding, he knew he was a dead man and that he wouldn't die pretty.

The older Dixon boy glanced down at the fallen man coldly. 'Don't worry, Dad. I'll make him pay for my brother. Make him suffer long and hard for you. Perve's gonna be wishing for death by the time I'm through.'

Mike closed his eyes and let slip another moan of panic and shuddered in fear. He had always known Merle was a bit of a wildcard and since the boy was born, he'd sensed a darkness in him that was probably inherited from Will. Mike knew that he was probably capable of just about anything, especially when it came to his baby brother. His baby brother who Mike had damaged in even worse ways than Will had done. Mike glanced away. He knew that they'd be no mercy from Merle...with Will he might have been able to play on their history together and maybe even manipulate him but now he had no hope. He sighed in resignation.

His fears were confirmed as Merle shot down a disturbing smile at him. 'If he's not sorry now, he sure will be by the end of this…'

'I don't doubt it.' Actually, Will was relieved. He'd rather take care of Daryl without the responsibility of dealing with Mike.

He didn't look back behind him once as he slowly started to move towards the stairs.

It was probably the last time he was to see his best friend from childhood alive.

'''

Will stood for a moment at the bottom of the stairs where he spotted some blood on the floor. He smiled when he heard the muffled curses and threats Merle was aiming at the other man. Shortly after, the truck roared to life. He was grateful that Merle had taken that little matter off his hands because he had another urgent matter to deal with.

Daryl.

Will sighed as he made his way heavily upstairs.

How was he going to handle this? How was he going to give dignity back to his son? His self-respect? Take his fear away? The same dignity and self-respect that he'd seen crumbling at Mike's behavior earlier was nothing compared to right before Daryl had shut down and hid his face using the meagre comfort of his pillow.

Their eyes had briefly met after Will kicked the door down. The hopelessly lost and miserable look on his son's face combined with shame at being caught in that position by his father had made Will's chest feel so tight that he felt like he couldn't breathe.

He knew right then that he would never forget that look on Daryl's face for as long as he lived.

In that moment, Will had vowed to himself to make sure that Daryl would never wear that expression again.

Will swore that he was going to do everything in his power to make him happy. He also knew as he mounted the stairs slowly, that if he instinctively said or did the wrong thing – it could end up scarring the boy for life, even more so than he already was after tonight's ordeal. There were probably steps to be taken when things like these happened, a cop trained in these kind of cases would know what to say. Will didn't. But hell would have to freeze over before a Dixon ever talked to the cops or asked them for advice, whatever the reason. It just wasn't their way.

He knew one thing for sure, he wasn't a complete idiot, he would have to tread very carefully with the boy. It scared him when he thought about what state Daryl would be in by now. Treading carefully just wasn't a thing that came naturally for a guy like Will and he wasn't exactly the world's best father to begin with, he knew that much, but he could at least damn well try.

….

He made his way slowly into his youngest son's bedroom, part of him dreading what he would find. The light was still on but Daryl was quiet – still had his head under the pillow as if hiding from the world. His father couldn't blame him and noticed with relief his chest was moving up and down slowly. The boy had just fallen asleep in exhaustion after everything that had happened, no doubt.

'Daryl?' He whispered. 'Ya OK, son?' He whispered and stroked his back. He felt him cringing away even from his gentle touch as he slowly woke up, making his fury at Mike rise up inside him again. But he forced it down, this was not the right time to lose his temper in front of Daryl.

'Look at me, you can come out now. He's gone for good.' He kept his voice soft.

'Da...Dad...' Suddenly Daryl's big blue eyes looked up at him pleadingly, his hair all adoringly mussed up. 'I didn't...I didn't do nothin', ya gotta believe me...'

'I do, son. I know ya didn't. Uncle Mikey was jus' a very, very sick man. Ya didn't do nothin' wrong, Daryl.'

Daryl whimpered when he mentioned Mike's name and instead of scolding him for it, Will ignored it.

That damn red handprint was standing out on his son's cheek like a fucking bulls-eye on a dart-board and Will regretted not killing the bastard when he had the chance. But then again, he had left Mikey at the tender mercies of Merle. He smiled to himself, knowing how protective he was over his little brother, Mike definitely wouldn't be in for a walk in the park. But the smile faded as soon as he saw his other son's face, which still looked sad and confused.

'It's OK.' He repeated gently as he brushed back the hair from his face. 'Ain't none of it ya fault. Ya still my Daryl, my beautiful, sweet boy.'

Daryl glowed at this rare praise from his father and snuggled up to Will. Miraculously, it seemed like even after all he'd been through, he was still craving physical comfort from his father. But then again, he'd always been an affectionate kid.

Relief flooded him right then, that Daryl didn't blame him for his choice of friends. But then he hadn't known – not for sure. Mike had never let slip so much as a hint that he liked little boys. He'd been married, for fuck's sake and had women since. Had it all be camouflage? Pretty good if it was – none of them had suspected what he was. There had simply been no hint of any of that. Besides, Will had known him practically his whole life. Which led him to come to the conclusion that the bastard must have got the taste recently, but when? Was it about the same time he'd put the distance between them?

But he also hated himself at the same time because he could see what had made Daryl so irresistible to Mike – the boy grew even more tempting as he grew older and he could feel the attraction to him himself and he was his own father! The boy was beautiful. That Dixon toughness and defiance combined with that vulnerability and sweetness...that purity, made him simply irresistible. Will had witnessed it himself many times. And he was no faggot – he hated those pillow-biters – to him, they were some sort of half men who weren't real men but pretended to be. Then how could he justify the way he was feeling towards his own son?

It must be the boy himself – something about him attracted everybody, even his own father which was sick. Will was certain that the scumbag had told him the truth when he said Daryl had been the only one. Hopefully it was the first time he'd touched him, hence all the weird behaviour and sleazy questions before.

He pushed the thoughts and the pictures kaleidoscoping in his head down – he'd never hurt Daryl – not like that and made an oath then to cut his own dick off if he ever allowed these feelings to take him over. If he didn't act on them, he could pretend they didn't exist.

So he dealt with it the only way he knew how, hiding it – fuck knows what would happen if either of his sons were to found out.

Seeing Daryl scared out of his wits and crying helplessly wasn't something Will wanted to witness again, not on his account. The father was terrified for him because if he ever lost control like Mike...

'Come here, baby.' Will whispered softly before he drew him closer. He could still feel him trembling violently in his arms. He'd never called him that before this day, but this was a very special – or more accurately, terrible occasion. After all, getting nearly violently raped when you're 13 by your father's best friend didn't happen every day after all.

Will wanted to make sure that Daryl knew that he didn't blame him for any of it. He wanted to make things very clear that he wasn't going to get punished for what Mike had done.

Being called 'baby' again didn't bother Daryl though, he didn't even seem to notice. Will sighed as he cradled him on his lap, careful to turn his head so that his hurt cheek wasn't resting against his chest.

'He hit you?' Will asked in outrage, just as if he hadn't heard it happen. And done nothing. Daryl nodded.

'Bastard.' He hissed.

There was a pause while Will thought how he was going to frame his next question.

'Now, Daddy's gotta ask ya somethin' and ya got to tell the truth. Don't be scared – whatever ya tell me, I won't get angry. Promise.'

He felt his son slump against him and give a long, shuddering sigh. Will tightened his arms around him because he knew what he had to ask the boy could be very painful for him.

'OK, Dad.' He nodded bravely, his hair tickling Will's chin, making him feel those unnatural feelings again but he pushed them down, down, deep inside him.

'Now, did Uncle Mikey do anythin' like that to ya before? Did he ever touch ya funny? Say somethin' weird to ya like he did tonight? Ya can tell me if he did. I won't be mad that ya didn't tell me.'

'No, Dad.' Daryl answered and looked up at him, all wide-eyed innocence and the father's heart lurched in his chest.

His son started to tremble in his arms then, making Will renew his focus. He stroked his hair reassuringly.

'It was the first time? ...Promise?'

'He…once...I…I forgot about it.'

'What? Ya gotta tell me, son. I won't hold it against you or none.'

'I don't… I'm…'

'It's OK. Everything's gonna be OK. Come on, jus' tell me.'

'I was sitting in his lap and he…he got… hard.' Daryl faltered, the rest of his face going the shame shade as Mike's mark.

Will felt the blood and all the color leave his face. Fuck. The very same thing that had happened to himself. How was he going to explain this? Now Daryl had first-hand experience of what made that particular body part react that way.

He found his voice despite the dread scratching and clawing at his stomach: 'And you didn't want to tell me because it happened when you sat in my lap too, that it?'

Daryl chewed on his lower lip and finally nodded. 'Oh son. It happened for two very different reasons, you have to know that. Mike was sick, sick and weak. I'm your father, I don't feel that way about you. That would make me worse than him.'

Daryl nodded again, but a small frown had appeared between his eyebrows.

'Hey, are you listening to me? It didn't mean anything when it happened with me, it had absolutely nothing to do with you.'

'Then why?'

Will guided his son back so that he could see his face clearly before he answered. 'You brushed up against me wrong, that's all and it took a while for things to settle down. I'm not a sick pervert, son.'

Daryl now looked guilty and Will couldn't have that. 'What is it?'

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…'

'No. Don't say sorry. I told you, anything you have to say, I wouldn't get mad at you. It's all right. Did you understand what I told ya about it not meanin' anything?'

Daryl nodded, Will hugged him to him again and continued: 'Did he do or say anything else weird?'

'No, Dad.'

'Good. You'll never have to see Mike again. He's gone for good, don't ya worry 'bout that. Ya can forget all about that piece of shit.'

Will began to rock them both comfortingly back and forth.

'Still my beautiful, brave, strong boy. Ya always gonna be Daryl. Ain't no one can ever take that away from you, no matter what they do or say. Ya jus' remember who ya are, son.'

'Yes, Dad.' The boy answered obediently and ducked his head to lay it down back onto Will's chest. Next to his heart. Will beamed and kissed the top of his hair.

….

They stayed there like that – father and son, Will didn't know for how long. He was still rocking him even after he fell asleep. His left leg had gone numb from the uncomfortable position but he'd be damned if he was going to let go of his son now, he couldn't bear to. He told himself that it was because he might wake him if he put him back to bed. The truth was, he didn't trust himself to let Daryl go until Merle came back to tell him that the job was done. As if Mike was going to come back and finish what he'd started…Or take revenge on them all...

He shook his head for being so stupid. If anyone could make the pervert really pay, it would be Merle.

Will doubted that Mike would be thinking about anything other than surviving the torture Merle would no doubt be inflicting on him. Or more likely, hoping that he wouldn't survive. That made Will smile. It was strange because he'd loved the man like a brother once but the moment he touched his son, all bets were off.

From then on, Mike didn't exist for him anymore.

Another motivation for Will to stay where he was, was that he enjoyed being this close to Daryl. Enjoying the feel of his skin next to his and being able to touch him, have him in his arms without him flinching away for once. It all felt so damn good, but the price they'd paid to get to this had been too high. Far too high and Will would never have asked Daryl to pay it.

The minutes kept flying by, and Will wasn't sure how much time had passed while he was running his fingers through his son's hair. Stroking his nape up and down - he knew the boy was crazy about that. Even though he was sound asleep, he told himself he could still feel it. He was half-asleep himself when he heard the door crash open suddenly. Daryl's eyelids immediately fluttered, causing Will to curse inwardly at his other son. He tightened his hold about him protectively but he needn't have worried, Daryl didn't wake up and Will knew that the boy could sleep like the dead like he did so often these days. Nothing short of an earthquake and the house crashing down around him could ever wake that boy up.

Merle thumped up the stairs and peeked round Daryl's door.

'Daryl?' He breathed. Of course, his first thought was for his baby brother.

'Sh...Fuckin' whisper, will ya? Do ya want to wake him up? Ya nearly did when ya came crashing through the door like a charging bull.'

'Yeah, sorry.' Merle replied flippantly when he obviously wasn't sorry at all. But he did speak more quietly when he asked more seriously, 'How is he?'

'He's sleeping now, but he'll be OK. I don't think the bastard got to do much 'cept scare the holy bejesus out of him.'

Merle thankfully missed Will's voice hitch halfway through his last sentence and he sighed with an audible sense of relief.

'Don't know if he'll ever get over it though.' His father sorrowfully added and shook his head.

'He will. He's gotta, Dad. Or if he don't...we'll make him. From now I'm gonna take him out and spoil him rotten. Buy him whatever stuff he wants.'

'You do that.' His father agreed before his face turned hard again. Of course he hadn't missed the blood stains all over his older son's shirt and jacket when he came in. 'Better stick those in the washer.' He told him, jerking his head meaningfully at his filthy clothes. 'Or better – throw them away or burn 'em... Is it done?'

Merle nodded and bowed his head without meeting his father's eyes. 'He won't be messin' with any more little boys in the future, I can promise you that, Dad.' He replied but his eyes darted away nervously.

'Anyone see you?'

'I don't think so.'

'Good.' Will expressed his approval and the tension seemed to drain out of the room and Daryl stirred uneasily in his arms.

'Better get this one to bed after the shit he's been through.' He got his son off him and laid him down gently in the bed where he pulled up the covers.

Before he did anything else he bent down to kiss his son's forehead.

'Let's go downstairs. I think we both need a drink after that, don't we, son?'

We also need to have a serious talk. He added silently.

Merle grinned ruefully as he followed his father to the living room.