We hope that you all had a wonderful holiday with your friends and families and that you weren't affected by the bad weather that's raging in some places. Sorry it's taken so long to update, we've been very busy. I've had marking and exams (not me, the students) then it was Christmas before we knew it! Plus, my co-writer's dogs have not been well but hopefully, they're on the mend now. Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews and reminders - we didn't forget any of you and here's another big chapter for you all to enjoy! Some familiar names pop up in this one because everything happens for a reason.

We hope it was worth the wait!

Remember: reviews are love, give it to us!

Part 20: The Morning After

Seething with fury at their Dad but not brave enough to go and wake him to face him, Merle lay awake with his brother curled around him.

'Fuckin' bastard.' He mutttered into the pillow, not risking waking Daryl up. He didn't have to worry about him on that score – the kid was flat out and snoring gently. Merle surmised that he could probably get up and confront the old bastard as soon he heard him stir from wherever he'd passed out drunk the night before. Dad always got up early.

When he first heard the sign of his father rousing himself – that was thumping his way downstairs to make his first whiskey of the day no doubt - Merle dislodged his sleeping brother as gently as he could off him and slipped away. Before he knew it, he found himself practically running down the stairs.

'Well, well, look who's up.' Dad looked amused as he turned round to glance at him before going to the freezer for some ice. Ya don't normally get out of bed unless it's for pussy or to fill ya belly.'

Merle ignored this jibe and got straight down to business. Right then he didn't give two hoots what his father thought of him. 'I know what ya did. Or rather didn't do, Dad.'

Will's face grew pale beneath his scruffy brown beard but he kept his voice level. 'Oh, what's that, then?' However, deep inside he was feeling a fluttering sense of panic. Had Merle found out his secret? His feelings for Daryl? But he didn't do anything to betray his feelings! Never touched him!

'You know what I'm talking about.'

His son's voice was hard as Will took a hurried swig of his drink and turned to glance at him with feigned calmness. He beheld him with a grudging new-found respect because overnight when he hadn't been looking, Merle had become a man.

'What exactly are you accusing me of, son? I ain't hit him since it happened or done anythin' else to him for that matter.'

Yeah, nothing in the last -what- 24 hours? That makes you a fucking saint, Merle thought to himself may have been furious but he wasn't suicidal enough to say it out loud.

'Nah, that's just it, ain't it, though? You did somethin' worse, didn't ya, Dad?' Merle's voice had got a dangerous edge to it now as he grabbed the bottle and poured himself a generous measure of his father's drink without even asking. Will's eyebrows shot up in surprise but he didn't comment.

'Well, spit it out then! What exactly am I s'posed to have done this time?' Inside, the father's heart was thumping in his chest but he kept his nerves out of his voice. 'Not long ago, I would have beaten the livin' crap out of ya for talkin' to me like that!' Typically, he disguised his fear with anger instead.

'Ya let it go on.' Merle glanced towards the open door nervously and reading his mind, Will strode over and closed it. 'You let that bastard nearly get to fuck him and didn't do nothin' about it!'

Will winced despite himself. 'Excuse me? Ya been takin' too many pills lately, Merle, that it?'

'What were ya doin', huh?' He pressed on, undeterred. 'Listenin' to 'em? Then runnin' in at the last minute like a white knight in shinin' armour? That's fuckin' sick, even for you!'

'How dare you!' Will bristled and roared at that. 'What you're accusing me of…You might as well be sayin' I'm like that sick fuck! Do you really think I knew what was going on and didn't lift a finger to stop it?' He got just the right balance of outrage and disbelief in his voice and he was relieved to see the other faltering.

'It's jus' somethin' Daryl said...and you said you heard Mike call him a tease right in the middle of it...and Daryl said...' The doubt creeping into his voice didn't escape his father.

'I didn't hear that for myself, Merle. Daryl told me...I only heard them when I went to take a piss...Don't ya think that doesn't eat away at me, the fact that I only jus' managed to save him in the nick of time but couldn't spare him a whole lot of the sufferin', let alone fear?' For best effect, Will even let tears come into his eyes and slammed his fist into the table. 'He had him so terrified by the time I got there that I don't even know if he'll ever get over it!'

There was a shocked silence as the other tried to take this in.

'But ya told me that ya heard him call him that right before ya rushed in!' Merle flared back after a short pause, changing his tune suddenly.

'Uh huh.' Will shook his head. 'Must have misheard me, son. Ya were pretty drunk and high, remember?'

'Weren't that drunk! Or high! Jus' got rid of Mike, remember!' He snapped back.

'Keep ya fuckin' voice down!' Will paused and cocked his ear at the ceiling. 'Ya want him to hear? Told ya that I don't want to hear that name in this house ever again! Now you've gone and mentioned him twice.' He hissed.

'Damn it, I…'

'Come on. We were all pretty upset, still are - and none of us were exactly sober.' The father's voice had become soothing, wheedling. 'Ya dead tired too and no wonder. Ya were up all night takin' care of him, jus' like I was before you.'

'Dad...'

'Ya misheard me or we got our wires crossed or somethin'. That's all.'

With that, the last link of his resolve broke. 'I'm sorry, Dad. For thinkin'...thinkin' you'd hear it goin' on and jus' stand by like that.'

'Don't worry 'bout it.. Come on, why don't ya help me make us somethin' to eat while we wait for ya brother get up? When he's decided he's had enough shut-eye, that is.'

'Dad, it's no wonder he's sleepin' so late.'

'I know that, Merle. Ya can talk to me while we're cookin'. Be like old times, huh, son?'

Then the older man did something unexpected, he ran one hand down his son's back while Merle looked up at him in surprise. His Dad was rarely tactile with him unlike with his brother.

His father paused to look at him with an unreadable expression. 'Come on.'

Merle padded sheepishly after his father into the kitchen.

As they cooked and talked together - mostly about Daryl, they just couldn't avoid the touchy subject even if they tried, he was all they could think about. They were both worried sick about how the events of the night before would haunt him in the end.

'Dad...do ya think he'll ever get over it? Or did M...' Merle saw the thunder on his father's face and backtracked pretty quickly. 'Do ya think he's scarred?' Merle saw the cloud getting darker across his father's expression and quickly added: 'I mean mentally for life?' He asked his father anxiously.

'Not if either of us can help it. He's tough, he's gotta be 'cos he's one of us. He's a Dixon.' Will reassured. 'He'll get over it if we handle things right.'

Merle was turning over the sausages under the grill but wasn't really seeing them. He was on auto-pilot, thinking about how exactly they should 'handle things right'.

'What do ya think made him do it? I mean, why Dad?' Merle was looking up to him in a way he hadn't done for years, looking much younger, like when he believed his father had all the answers in the world like he used to.

'I dunno. Might as well ask the sun why it decides to shine some days and not others.' Will shook his head mournfully and without a scrap of pretence this time. 'I know he weren't like that...would've known if he was... ' He let a bitter half-laugh out at that. 'Well, apparently I didn't, huh? He sure fooled me.'

'Dad, the creep fooled us all. He hid it well.'

Will didn't answer for a long while and Merle would be lying if he didn't startle a little when he heard a sizzling sound coming from behind him. That noise was unmistakable because it was the sound that only flesh made when it was slowly burning.

'Dad...'

'Damn it all to hell!' Will yelled and sucked his burnt thumb. He hadn't been concentrating and had grabbed the handle of the hot pan cooking the eggs without thinking.

'You OK, Dad?'

'Course I ain't!' Will snapped as he rushed to hold his hand under the cold tap. He wasn't only talking about his blistered thumb either.

6 o'clock - the usual rise and shine time in the Dixon household had already passed. Then 7 o'clock then 8 am and the food they started to prepare for the youngest member of the family remained cold and uneaten. Daryl didn't show any signs of stirring from upstairs even though his father and brother kept an ear out for sounds of him moving about up there.

To be honest, neither of them really expected him to get up anytime soon but Merle finally got restless and worried enough and went up to his room.

Besides, Will recalled that it had already been pretty late by the time he had come across Merle with his arm around Daryl, whose hair had still been slightly damp where it was splayed across his big brother's chest.

Will had naturally been annoyed then because he'd wanted to be the one to comfort him but what he saw in the bathroom cheered up his sour mood. Something about the mess they'd made in there spoke of the love and care Will knew his eldest son had for his youngest. Merle had done his best to tidy up after Daryl had had his bath – he could see that but he'd left it half finished. Clearly because he'd had more important things to take care of than cleaning up and for once, Will didn't mind and took over where he'd left off. He even smiled as he rinsed the remaining bubbles from the bathtub, thinking that he knew what they'd been doing - using little bit of each to create a colourful potion. Daryl's idea, no doubt.

He carried on tidying up the place by putting every little bottle back in its place but when he started cleaning out the sink, his smile died when he spotted that ordinary, harmless looking tube of toothpaste and bottle of mouthwash. His hands froze in their tracks as he stopped scrubbing as his gaze flicked between one and the other like a heavy pendulum swinging to and fro.

Will was suddenly lost in his thoughts as the guilt struck him hard and he felt guilty for forgetting the previous night's events even for a single minute. What the hell was he doing? He shouldn't be happy… Let alone have anything to smile about!

As he traced the bottle containing what little was left of the mouthwash with his forefinger, he murmured, 'I'm so sorry son, for not getting to you sooner.' Will knew he wouldn't have waited so long if he'd got there earlier when the bastard had his dick forced down his son's throat. No-one could have mistaken those sounds for what they were.

In an attempt to make his guilt subside a little, he focused on the second thing that was bugging him the most instead of dwelling on things he couldn't change. Namely, Merle crawling into bed with him. What did he do to him when he was there? Did it keep him up most of the night since he now was sleeping way past the time he should have been up and doing chores?

But that didn't matter, Will wasn't going to make Daryl do any chores today. Maybe never.

He shook his head wondering at the sick turn his thoughts were twisting to and he hadn't expected him to get up like normal. Not really. But he wanted to see how he was doing.

He decided he needed another fortifier, the truth was that he couldn't face Daryl without a second glass of cheap whiskey in the morning – a bit extreme even for Will Dixon these days. But with the memory of seeing the humiliating position his son had been forced in he needed it more than ever. He just couldn't shake the image out of his mind no matter how hard he tried to block it out. Daryl, looking so small under that huge 200 pound of shit who had been his best friend Mike...crying and pleading with the bastard to stop was almost more than Will could bear.

To make things worse, he remembered Mike's slurry drunken accusations that his baby boy had been flirting with him, that Daryl had made him somehow think that he wanted it – was there any truth in any of them? Because why else did he make men (including his own father) want him so badly who had only been interested in women before? What was this strange power of corruption the boy held over grown men?

Was Daryl a little fag in the making?

Will shook his head to try and clear it, regretting overindulging in his favourite beverage so early in the morning. It made his thought-processes fuzzy. To walk some of it off he decided to go upstairs and check in on him.

'Daryl?' He whispered and rose his fist to knock on the boy's bedroom door but stopped it in mid-air when he thought better of it and flattened his ear to his door to listen instead.

Through the wood he detected rustling sounds and scared-sounding but also angry whimpers muffled by bedclothes.

'Son? You OK?' Very, very softly, Will turned the door handle and opened it slowly.

To be met with the sight of his son tossing and turning on the bed, clearly in the throes of a bad dream. It told him everything he needed to know about whether he was OK or not. Stupid question anyway.

'No... Don't want ya to...Get off me!'

Will was over there like a shot when he heard this and there was no truth to his earlier suspicions if his son's tearful whimpers of protest were anything to go by.

As soon as he got to his bed, he bent down to stroke his hair and rubbed away the warm tears running down from the corners of his boy's eyes with the tips of his thumbs. He had the time to think that to wake him up like that was better than shaking him or risk maybe sounding angry with him by telling him to get up. Although the last option would wake him quicker and cause the bad dream to end more abruptly, it would surely be too much of a shock for him. So, he settled on speaking to him softly.

'Sh...I'm here now. Daddy's here. Ain't gonna let anythin' bad happen to you.'

Yet his words did little good as Daryl continued to struggle and cry in his sleep. 'It ain't right what ya doin'…stop.'

'Come 'ere. ' Dad growled at him harshly, nearing the end of his patience, but his touch remained gentle as he carefully pulled him onto his lap with a soft grunt.

But Daryl kept thrashing about as if he hadn't heard. 'No...I can't breathe, don't!'

'It's me, Daryl! Wake up!' Will shook him none too gently, 'It's your Dad!'

His eyelashes fluttered and suddenly his eyes were wide open, staring at him in surprise. 'Dad? Wha...'

'Ya were havin' a bad dream that's all, son.' He wrapped his arms tightly around him and left it at that. What was the point of asking him what it was about when he knew already? Better he and Merle try to make him forget about that sorry excuse of a man.

'Safe now.' He crooned as he felt Daryl's heartbeat begin to slow when he slumped against him. Rocking him, he'd found, was the quickest way to get him to relax. Yet it hadn't escaped Will that the first thing his son had done was recoil back from him when he opened his eyes to stare at him not only with surprise but with fear.

He didn't think much of it, after all he'd just woken him up from a nightmare about what had happened to him the night before. It wasn't a surprise that Daryl confused him with Mike.

'Now, this is the last time I'm going to mention him.' Will hatefully spat out that last word. 'But I need to know exactly what he did to you. Everythin'.'

'What? Why?' Daryl's eyes widened in surprise and horror.

'I need to hear it from you, son. The more I know, the better I can help you through it. Now, as it is, me and Merle are just stumblin' around in the dark. So, tell me what happened.'

'Dad...ya know what he...he...' Daryl shuddered when seconds ago he'd been calm, dreamy even.

'Ya were there! Ya know what he made me do, Dad… Don't make me tell!' He finally managed to splutter out indignantly.

Will sighed, regretting spoiling the mood when he felt Daryl immediately tense under his hand but it was too late to go back now. He told himself that he needed to know the worst.

His father's eyes were relentless as he pinned him there and Daryl knew he had no choice. He never did have a choice when it came to his father.

'Ain't gonna make ya do nothin' ever again, 'cept this. I won't let anyone make you do nothin' ya don't want to do, not if I can help it. Think ya had enough of that.'

Daryl shuddered and curled further into him. Will responded by stroking his arm.

'But I need ya to do jus' this one thing for me, then I'll never mention it again. Not if you don't want me to. OK?'

Daryl paused slightly before he gave in and nodded, wondering what his father wanted to hear. If he told the truth and the whole truth, he would look like a pussy and maybe his Dad would dish out a few slaps (or worse) that he considered Daryl had coming for putting himself in that situation in the first place. It wasn't fear of pain, however, that made Daryl hesitate, not really. There was just something right then about his dad that seemed off to him somehow, and that something – whatever it was- frightened the hell out of him.

Besides, this could all be a test for all Daryl knew, his dad was simply trying to get him to say how much of a fight he put up before being overpowered. Or how he utterly failed to protect himself. Otherwise why was he asking him what he knew already? Forcing him to go over it again? Didn't he know how much it hurt to talk about what happened to him the night before?

Daryl gulped nervously and shook his head bravely in silent refusal.

He felt his father touch his hair before he let his hand rest on his scalp.

His Dad breathed out a shaky sigh then. 'I need to know, son. He hurt ya pretty bad before I got to ya, I know that much. You got to tell me, Daryl. I won't think any less of you, I promise.'

Daryl nodded, even though he couldn't figure out why his father was suddenly asking all these dumb questions when he knew better.

'What did he make you do?'

Daryl's voice got stuck in his throat when he knew he really didn't have much of a choice but to tell his dad. Spilling his guts to his brother was one thing but he couldn't describe all the disgusting things Mike did to him to his father. He just couldn't.

'He make ya take him in his mouth?' His Dad's voice was soft, the tone of someone casually enquiring about the weather but he knew that was when he could be at his most dangerous.

Daryl just nodded in shame and buried his face deeper into his father's chest.

His father tightened his grip around him and shushed him soothingly, before he carried on.

'He did, didn't he?' Daryl felt his Dad's chest hitch against his cheek and he was sounding weird. Something clearly was wrong and he was once again confused and didn't know what his father wanted to hear. He didn't know what was the right answer.

'Then he tried to force himself on ya, didn't he?' He heard him rasp.

Daryl didn't bother to answer that one, mostly because by now he was starting to get angry with his father and his stupid, painful questions, after all he'd been there and seen for himself before he put a stop to it. Something made him get up to try and scramble away but he found that he was pinned down, making that feeling of panic rise up inside him all over again.

'No...Let go of me.' He moaned. 'Don't, Dad...'

'Easy now, I know what you're thinking, why am I askin' that when I was there and saw it? It's just that I want you to be able to talk about it with me just this one time...That's all I want.'

Daryl realised that his father's fingers were still in his hair, and when he mumbled, 'My poor baby boy', and he immediately stopped trying to get away. His eyes flew wide instead and all the fear left him. Because did his father really just call him 'baby' again? Just like he did last night after he came in and saw what Mike was doing to him? What would Merle say if he knew?'

Then he felt his father loosen his grip on him slightly. 'From now on, I don't ever wanna hear that piece of shit's name again under this roof. He's gone jus' like he never existed and he ain't ever going to touch ya again, that's all you need to know.'

Daryl slumped gratefully against him, now completely relaxed and trusting.

Will held him close for a while before he glanced at the alarm clock with the glowing green digital readout.

He told him finally before he released him and put him back on the bed, 'Get dressed now and come downstairs for breakfast. It's gone 9 o'clock already. Me and Merle have already had ours but I fixed somethin' good up for ya. Come on down and eat.'

His son chewed on his lower lip provocatively in that unconsciously submissive way that drove him crazy making Will's former doubts concerning his innocence regarding Mike's accusations surface again. Was him acting more beaten-down a lingering effect of what that bastard did to him? Will prayed not and told himself it was early days yet.

'Yes, Dad.' He answered demurely fluttering those pretty eyelashes that were too long for any boy, especially a Dixon boy.

That was too much and Will had to rush out of the room to hide his excitement that was starting to bulge out of the front of his pants. But he had time to think that his eldest would never have acted like that, Merle would have had some smart comeback ready even if he received a hard slap to the face for his sassiness.

Then again, Merle hadn't received so much obedience training, Will reasoned.

'Get ya ass down here soon as ya can, boy!' He called back up the stairs when he reached the bottom. He'd raised his voice and it came out unnecessarily harsh, his words coming out hoarsely, due to his…state.

No answer. Well not from Daryl anyway.

Seconds later, Merle yanked his closed door open irritably. 'Why ya yellin' at him Dad, after everythin' that he's been through?'

'Ya stay out of this, Merle! Anyway, it's about time he was up – he can't just spend all day wallowin' in bed!'

Will hadn't meant to say that – it had just come out. After all, he couldn't have a son of his talking to him like that, he had a reputation to maintain.

Merle slammed his door shut again just as angry as before when he'd opened it and then his father heard him stomping his way heavily over to his little brother's room.

No doubt to coddle him some more, Will thought sourly to himself but then what did he call what he'd been doing minutes before? Besides, he did regret now yelling at him – Merle was right – he had been through shit.

Will growled and clenched his fists as he reached for the whiskey bottle again, he didn't know how else to get rid of the raging erection caused by his own 13 year-old. If it didn't work but got him hornier as it did sometimes, he'd have to go and take care of it somewhere else despite ordering Daryl to get dressed and come down for breakfast.

….

Merle went into his little brother's room to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, forlorningly looking down at the swirls on his carpet.

'Ya OK, little brother?'

He shrugged, still not looking up.

'Dad didn't mean to yell. He jus' don't know how to ...how to deal, is all.' Merle carefully skirted around the events of the previous night.

'I know.' His brother shrugged again but then he started to shake. 'I had a bad dream...I can't help it, I…'

The older Dixon brother sighed, sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. Daryl leaned against him gratefully. It seemed like he could use any comfort he could get.

'What that bastard did and tried to do to you is beyond sick, little bro. Don't beat yourself up for your mind working through it in your sleep. Won't help ya none, OK? I wish Mi…he'll rot in hell once he gets there…'

Merle didn't dare say his name out loud having almost a superstitious fear that if you named the devil out loud, he'd come calling on you. Besides, their father had forbidden it.

'Ye...yeah...'

'He's gone, freak can't hurt ya no more.'

Daryl looked at him then, adult suspicion forming in his eyes making him too old and too wise for his years and Merle felt like someone had taken an ice-pick to his chest. Then he opened his mouth to ask a question. But then he closed it again and turned away, clearly unwilling to pursue it. It seemed to his brother that as long as he knew Mike was no longer a threat to him, he could give two fucks what had happened to the scumbag. Why should he?

'Things will get better, little brother, I promise. Just got to give it some time, is all.' Come on, better do what he says - get dressed.' Merle released him and rubbed his back.

'Mmm...think the old man's a cookin' down stairs… must be a special kind of day, what do you say, little brother?' He sniffed the air, always excited when it came to meeting any of his bodily needs even though he'd already eaten. Merle – a growing boy still – was always hungry.

'Ain't hungry.' Daryl shied away from his hand and scowled in annoyance.

'Ya might be when ya see the food...See ya down there.' With that, Merle gave him a rather hard brotherly pat on the back and was out like a shot oblivious to Daryl's pissed-off and confused expression.

He yawned and slowly got dressed. No wonder he was so tired, whenever he tried to drift off to sleep he could feel uncaring hands touching and groping him all over again.

He didn't give a shit about breakfast, food had never excited him like it did his brother and besides, he had no appetite. Not when the man's voice and the taunting things he 'd said to him were constantly in his head… it was enough to make anyone sick.

Daryl, now fully dressed in clean T-shirt and denim jeans went down and took his usual seat where he only picked at the food on his plate.

'I'm sorry I shouted at you before.' Dad announced causing both the brothers to drop their mouths in shock. Even Merle who had been chewing his 'second breakfast' stopped and the food hung slackily in his mouth. Realising this, he clapped it shut in a hurry.

'I mean it...jus' on edge I guess 'cos...'cos...' Dad not finishing a sentence was something else that hardly happened either. It didn't matter because they all knew what he was referring to. Him looking so flustered was another thing.

Daryl still couldn't eat much though and even though this annoyed the hell out of his father, he hid it well. His throat hurt from last night...Mike hadn't been gentle when he shoved himself down it and he felt too nauseous to eat.

Finally, Daryl gave up and pushed the plate away, not having touched any of it and rose from his seat. He looked at their father and Merle fancied he caught a glint of his brother daring their father to say something about him not finishing his plate. Nothing of the sort happened though.

Merle goggled when he saw his Dad open his arms out to his brother and pull him onto his lap, thinking that surely he was too old for that kind of affection? Will merely glared at him over Daryl's head, daring him to comment on this most un-Dixon like behaviour.

'I'm going out.' Merle announced, leaving them to it, reasoning that it was only natural that their Dad was babying him after the bad scare he'd had. Still, he couldn't help being a little jealous because Dad had never held him like that...not that he could remember anyway.

It didn't matter because Merle had always known that their father loved Daryl best. He'd always been the sweet, innocent baby of the family, Dad's favourite and he'd accepted it, long ago. Still, it didn't stop him wishing sometimes...

It didn't stop hurting either.

Merle felt his brother's eyes follow his progress anxiously across the room and he felt compelled to turn back and say that everything would be OK, that he'd be back soon and tell him not to worry… But nothing of the sort came out. Instead what did come out was something a little less encouraging,'I'll be back soon, baby brother. Jus' got some stuff to do.'

Merle heard his father say to his brother, 'Let's go over and watch that series ya like' before he pulled the door shut. Yet he was already out of the house in his mind, dreaming of Kit's long, bare legs, having them wrapped around him. Her waiting and willing to distract him from his brother's pain. He just hoped she was in. Either her - always his first choice lately or if she wasn't at home he would probably go for Angie or Tina.

He was in need of a serious roll in the hay, a beer and a joint.

The order wasn't important.

That night, Daryl's wailing could be heard throughout the entire house. Without hesitation, Will was at his side and put a hand on his shoulder. His presence did nothing to calm down his frantic son, though, and he decided to get on top of the covers next to him instead, offering more than a hand on his shoulder as comfort.

'It's only me. Ya safe now.' He whispered, expecting him to fight him like before. But Daryl remained calm, even when he wrapped his arms around him from behind. Instead of panicking, Daryl sighed deeply and seemed to breathe easier without those rapid hiccupping breaths.

To reward him, Will brushed the hair from back off his forehead and rearranged the cover over him but decided to not get into the bed with him. That wouldn't be decent – something that the likes of Mike would do. Even if he meant well, it wasn't right for a father do that with his children over a certain age. Might lead to accusations of ...something.

Daryl interrupted his thoughts then by moving closer, sighing contently.'Like it when ya here with me, Merle.' Will heard him mumble in his sleep and he was momentarily taken aback by the outrage and jealousy he felt. But he forced himself to swallow it.

'What?' He hissed and had to fight down the urge to shake his son to wake him up and ask him. What the fuck was he talking about? Merle only slept in his bed once, didn't he? He often checked up on Daryl at night, he would know if Merle had made a habit of doing that before this.

Only thinking about it made him shake his head in disbelief. Merle wasn't like that, a boy in his late teens just didn't up and get into his little brother's bed and last night had been an exception. Probably the kid had been inconsolable – that must be it because Daryl would never stoop so low as to ask him either, let alone go to Merle's room where he wasn't allowed unless invited. Will knew this was a very delicate situation, reasoned that it was natural that he'd wanted extra comfort from his big brother and for Merle to give it to him - the poor boy was so messed up after what happened.

'Sh...I'm here.' He whispered because what did it matter who he thought was with him? As long as he didn't think it was Mike and he got over him quicker.

Practically every night that first week, Daryl would cry and act out in his sleep and if he didn't settle down, Will would go to him. When Merle actually spent the night at home he was usually passed out on his bed, oblivious and snoring like a hog at the times Daryl was going through the worst of it.

Even during daytime too, Will hardly let Daryl out of his sight. Every day was the same, he would hold him on the sofa with his head in his lap while they watched mindless TV shows, one arm always slung protectively about him while he drank his whiskey and smoked his cigarettes. Either of them only getting up to go to the bathroom or in Will's case to pour himself another drink, light himself another smoke or to fix them a bite to eat. Not that Daryl ever ate much. In between when he wasn't drinking or smoking, his father would pet his hair gently, soothing himself at the same time as he soothed his son.

Despite this boring and inactive lifestyle with most of the days passing in silence and each of them pretty much the same, Daryl didn't ever seem bored to his father. Or to stop needing him. Besides, the boy seemed reluctant to leave the house, let alone go to school yet and it wasn't like Will was keeping him prisoner.

He just wanted to stay close to his father where he felt safe and where he often would doze off because of it. In fact, Daryl was sleeping a lot both during the day and at night.

They barely talked but he knew everything his Dad was trying to say by the almost tentative way he touched him. Even when they were on the sofa, sometimes he felt his father barely touch his hair -merely ghost over it for hours it seemed before he got bolder and bolder, slowly inch by inch until Daryl felt his fingers finally on his scalp.

A complete contrast to Mike's brutish manhandling.

Best of all, there were no punishments.

Daryl knew without being told that his Dad was telling him in the only way he knew how that he was sorry, that he regretted not noticing the signs or getting there sooner.

That he regretted failing to protect him.

Daryl's other protector, Merle, would be out most of the day doing God knows what. Will thought he was doing it deliberately because by staying away, he could forget everything for a while. Lucky him. Almost like he couldn't bear to stay and see his brother looking so hurt and fragile. Leaving him, Will - to pick up the pieces. Still, he couldn't say that Merle didn't care because as soon as he got back, the first thing he would do was to check on his baby brother and ask how he was doing.

Once or twice Will would be forced to go to the shop to get the necessities when Merle wasn't around, leaving Daryl home alone. He was never gone for long though – even gave up going to the bar like he used to because Will simply didn't like the look of barely concealed panic in his youngest eyes every time he left the house. He could bet his life that what Daryl was afraid of was that Mike would somehow pop up again and come back to finish off what he'd started. Or abduct him. But Daryl was too proud to say anything and Will never suggested that he go with him. Even so, he made sure to lock the door carefully behind him even though he knew that there was no chance of the creep coming back to molest his son again.

…..

Daryl refused to eat more than a few bites for almost an entire week afterwards, even though Will promised him he could have whatever he wanted, short of the moon. In the end, both his father and brother were getting really anxious, ending up with Dad demanding to know impatiently what he wanted to eat that Saturday morning a week later when Merle was home.

'Leave it, Dad.' Merle said.

'No, he's gotta eat. Look how skinny he is now...'

Daryl looked up at them calmly. 'Said I ain't hungry.'

Will brushed back his hair. 'Tell us what ya want...feel like, ya don't have to eat a lot of it...Jus' a few spoonfuls...' He coaxed. But Daryl only looked away.

Dad shrugged and looked up at his big brother.

'How about ice-cream and red jelly?' Merle brightened suddenly when he remembered his brother's favourite food from when he was little.

Daryl shrugged listlessly, 'Whatever.' But at least he didn't turn down the idea outright like he did with everything else, Merle thought.

'Right then.' Dad ordered Merle. 'You go to the store and get it. What flavour?'

'Vanilla of course.' Merle answered for him.

'No...I'm asking Daryl.' Dad ignored him and searched his other son's eyes instead. 'Which flavour? Ya don't eat somethin' soon, ya gonna fade right away.'

'Vanilla.' He shot back with a smile at Merle. 'Can I have chocolate syrup and sprinkles?' Daryl looked genuinely happy and not like he was pretending for his father's and big brother's sakes for the first time since Mike happened.

Best of all, he looked like a kid again when he got so excited about such a childish treat. Just like with the bubble-bath, Merle thought to himself and for the first time felt a ray of hope that Daryl could recover, would eventually get better.

'Sure ya can.' Dad grinned, also sounding relieved as he hugged Daryl to him. 'Go get it, Merle, and don't forget my smokes!'

Will smiled and ruffled his youngest hair as Merle turned to leave and do his bidding.

Later, sated with ice cream and all the sugary extras, Daryl fell asleep on the sofa as usual even though he'd slept almost 12 hours the previous night. It was like he had sleeping sickness, his father thought to himself but he knew that it Daryl's mind's way of trying to heal itself. Somehow he knew that when he kept a hand on him like he was doing in his sleep, it speeded up the process.

That didn't stop the nightmares breaking out though, even during the day at times. It seemed to happen more often when Will drank too much whiskey and dozed off himself, his hand either lingering on top of Daryl or beside him motionless.

On Monday morning of the following week, Daryl went back to school, dreading it even more than usual. His Dad had told him that he couldn't spend another week holed up in the house, that he'd feel better if he had a normal routine again. The sooner, the better, he'd said.

It didn't mean that he wanted to, because if his father's friends had been blabbing, it would be all over school by now. Worse, he wasn't exactly prepared to deal with it, he'd barely slept a wink the night before until his father came in and sat on the edge of his bed without a word and stroked his hair until he finally fell asleep. Then his alarm-clock was ringing a second later, so it seemed to him in his sleep-dazed brain and his father was gone.

All in all, he'd gotten a lousy 4 hours of shut-eye he reckoned.

…..

Daryl trailed his way slowly into the classroom, determined to act like nothing had happened but it was clear by the way people immediately startled and stared at him when he entered before they glanced away (guiltily, some of them) that something had drastically changed during his absence. Was it his weight? He knew he'd lost a lot but he knew deep down that that wasn't it. Some were looking at him as if he had the plague or some other contagion they were anxious to avoid.

Most of their expressions were either curious or contemptuous - some of his classmates were looking at him like he was a new species of cockroach - while Andrea – the pretty new girl who'd moved down from Atlanta not long back, Eric and nerdy, pimply Milton who wanted to be a scientist each wore similar expressions of concern.

Then the students immediately turned to their neighbours and began whispering to each other. Daryl caught snippets of their conversation: '...it was this guy called Mike,' and 'I heard that his Dad and big brother killed him for it, probably just rumours, huh?' and worst of all, he heard , The popular boy Shane hissed, 'My Dad says he raped him.'

Daryl's breath hitched in his chest and he did his best to tune them out.

With little success.

He just wanted to die. He couldn't come back here after this. Damn his Dad for making him!

Daryl blushed furiously and would have left there and then, but got stopped in his tracks by their teacher who had just walked in with his arms full of papers, and everyone immediately clammed shut.

'Why, nice to see you. Why don't you take a seat, Mr Dixon?' He said not unkindly but his tone betrayed no sign that he'd heard anything about the scandalous rumours circulating around the room before entering it. In fact, he seemed oblivious to the whispering and to Daryl's discomfort. He just got on with organising his papers on his desk before the class began.

Mr Rogers was about 30 with dark hair. Still unmarried and people would speculate why not in the small Georgia village. Small and slim, he never yelled in class or paddled anybody of the unruly kids with the rod, not like a few of the other teachers did. He just sent badly-behaved students out of the class to see the principle who also happened to be his older brother with the same last name or he wrote a note to their parents. That was his style although most of the teachers didn't use the cane as a punishment anymore, a few older and more traditional ones did, simply because they enjoyed it. Same kind of tough old-timers like Daryl's father.

But Mr Rogers never did.

Daryl decided to steel himself and face them. After all, it would only get harder if he acted like it was true.

He was a Dixon.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shane Walsh grinning at him like the cat who got the cream. Daryl hated that jock more than anybody along with his posse of leering idiots – also jocks – that he led. Like the Pied Piper.

Nevertheless, Daryl decided to ignore him unless the asshole said or did something. It was better than acting like he had something to hide and there was no point in feeding the flames.

He would be lying to himself if he said that was his first instinct. Naturally, it wasn't what Daryl really wanted to do, standing back wasn't Dixon, wasn't in his nature. So instead, he became lost in his thoughts for a moment, dreaming about taking Shane out in the yard out back, the satisfaction of feeling his nose crunch under his flying fists after school. That was until Eric waved to the empty seat next to him, putting a stop to his violent daydream.

Daryl sat down gratefully and tried to hide from all the prying eyes.

With his heart thundering in his chest, he kept quiet, uncharacteristically not rising to the bait. Rogers didn't seem aware of the tension in the room or if he did, he chose to ignore it.

Daryl didn't like most of the other students, he wasn't bullied by any means, Shane had tried that but Daryl had quickly showed him what would happen if anyone messed with him before he even got anywhere. Daryl didn't have any friends because he didn't want any. He didn't like school at the best of times. It had nothing to do with him not being smart, he was at the top in most classes without having to study. So, in his mind, school was a waste of time anyway and he was counting the days until he didn't have to go anymore. When he could start working, maybe with Merle and finally have some money of his own.

Having everyone apparently know what Mike did to him was too much and certainly didn't do anything to convince him to change his view of school.

He wondered if should get up and just leave, right now but he knew he wouldn't. Couldn't, if he wanted to keep some of his dignity intact. Best thing he could do now was just stand his ground.

Eric slipped him a small, folded piece of paper as soon as the teacher had turned his back.

'You OK?' Daryl read quickly, before scrunching it up in his hand and letting it fall to the floor dismissively with a scowl of irritation. It wasn't Eric's fault he was in a pissy mood, but passing notes was just so goddam immature and stupid, especially when the person you were giving them to was sat right beside to you. Though he was happy on some level that Eric even bothered about him.

Even so, he glared at him. 'Fine. Why wouldn't I be?' He snapped back ungratefully. He just couldn't deal with people – even well-meaning ones like Eric – today. Or think about minding his manners.

His father didn't hit him anymore and he could breathe easier because of it. In fact, his Dad was treating him like he was made of brittle glass that might shatter any second. Maybe something good had come out of what had happened to him ten days ago, horrible as it was?

Eric shrugged and gave an easy smile in reply. While they weren't friends exactly, Daryl didn't have any of those after all, he was one chilled-out dude, who he found easy to talk to. He didn't judge anybody either. Eric also made him forget about his problems by distracting him with jokes or playing pranks on their classmates. He was the funny guy, the class clown.

It was more than that though, Eric was also an outsider, a loner like him, making it a bit easier for Daryl to connect with him on a more friendly level. They had something in common, after all – neither of them really fit in.

They glanced up when their teacher glanced at the clock and thumped his desk. 'Settle down now, class has begun.'

There were groans of protests but he ignored them and started writing out the algebra equations on the board for them to solve.

The lesson continued but Daryl couldn't really concentrate. The teacher's voice would slowly fade to be replaced by Mike's and his filthy utterings or his father's crooning one in his ear as he rocked him telling him it wasn't his fault. Or him saying that ''Uncle Mikey' was just a very sick man'.

Daryl shook his head and came back to the present with difficulty. The past seemed to be invading the present and he felt a bewildering sense of disorientation. Still, when Mr Rogers asked him a question and even though he hadn't studied or done the homework, he gave the correct answer. Daryl saw him raise his eyebrows in surprise even though the answer had been obvious to him.

That's how he knew that he was smart. Shane and the others didn't always get the answer but 9 times out of 10, he did.

Shane sneered at him then and he eye-balled him back. Daryl only felt satisfied when he saw him lower his stare as he backed down. Dumb jock, Daryl was thinking triumphantly to himself.

But he should have known that the asshole wouldn't have let it go just like that.

He didn't. When the other boy made a blow-job gesture with his hand and mouth, Daryl could feel his face getting increasingly hotter as his cheeks slowly turned pink. But the heartless teasing didn't stop there even though Andrea put a restraining hand on Shane's shoulder, shaking her head at him and hissing for him to stop.

Then, worst of all - Mr Rogers half-turned around, no doubt to tell them to shut up and pay attention and there was no question of whether he heard what Shane said next. To Daryl, the idiot's voice seemed so loud that it boomed around the classroom and probably even reached out into the corridor outside for everyone to hear.

'Hey, Dixon, what was it like being screwed by your Daddy's best friend? Did ya like it?' The jock mocked, turning back to his crew who all laughed, sounding hollow somehow.

But they were the only ones, no-one else made a sound.