About 6 weeks later

Dad is getting impatient with Daryl who still suffers nightmares about Mike and isn't over the attack yet. Will he finally lose his temper and revert to his old ways? Or will he end up doing something much worse?

Part 22: Relapse

Daryl had been making progress – at least, he made it through some nights now without crying out in his sleep. Will persisted in giving him TLC, trying not to let on how his inability to get over Mike was irritating him.

Still, even as he mentally cursed him for not being as tough as Merle, he used Daryl's ongoing fragility as an excuse to touch him as much as his son allowed and to check on him every night. Furthermore, he couldn't say that he didn't enjoy this peaceful father-son time they spent on the old worn-out couch together while Daryl was awake.

It was a Saturday afternoon, Will had fallen asleep on the couch when the hand that had been stroking Daryl's back fell away to rest at his side, the other that had been moving through his hair did the same as he began snoring loudly, unmindful of his son laying with his head in his lap.

Daryl had woken up at that point and stared blankly at the TV screen. It was if his father's hands on him had been anchoring him and as soon they were gone, the hands were replaced with Mike's. He watched the fuzzy picture of some crappy soap opera for a while without seeing anything but the drama in his head that was playing out. He could see that very clearly.

Mike was whispering in his ear but not touching him yet. But he was letting him know what was coming which was somehow even worse because Daryl knew exactly what would happen if he didn't do anything to stop his thoughts from going further.

'No.' Daryl tried to move, but was unable to when a shudder wrecked through his body. 'Thought I'd got over ya, asshole,' he spat.

Above him, his father stopped snoring and twitched while Daryl remained frozen in place in terror.

In his head Mike was merciless and relentless in his groping and he was terrified all over again. He was totally sick of it… especially now when whole days and nights had passed when he hadn't thought of Mike and what he tried to do at all and he thought it had gotten a bit better. Apparently not.

Dad shifted and patted his hair reflexively in his sleep, as he was slowly coming to awareness.

'Don't. Please don't.' Daryl whimpered pathetically, with his panic taking over, he was now convinced that the hands touching him belonged to Mike - he had touched his hair in the same way too. But he was still unable to move from where he was. Inevitably the first tears of the day made their presence known, as one of them fell from the bridge of his nose where he was laying with his cheek pressed to his father's jeans-clad legs, onto them.

Dad snarled in annoyance over being woken up from his much needed slumber. With all the time he spent making sure that Daryl was OK at night, sleep just didn't come easy anymore. Lately, he had to make do with what he could get.
Meanwhile his son buried his face deeper into his lap as if trying to hide from the world and the father could feel his shoulders shaking.

'Fuck.' Will sighed. 'There, there. It's only me.' He patted his back but this only drew more sounds of fear as his son cringed away, immediately causing Will to stay his hand. Daryl didn't seem to hear him or know who he was. Will realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach, that this was the worst he'd seen him. Just when he thought his son was finally getting over it. This relapse was like a slap in his face.

'What? 'Can't even fuckin' touch you now, that it?' He snapped in annoyance but let his hands hang limply at his sides, noting Daryl's shaky breaths with a sense of hopelessness. All the affection and reassurances in the world he'd shown him lately didn't seem to matter one jot, not at this moment in time anyway.

Then he noticed something else too, his pant leg where Daryl's face was pressed against was starting to feel a bit damp, and he had to hide the sigh of irritation that was threatening to escape him when he realised what it was.

He felt his son's face gently with his fingers and received a whimper in response.
'Sh… boy. It ain't him, it's me. Wake up, will ya?'

'Dad?'

'You cryin'?' His tone was sharper than it had been for ages, and it was enough to make Daryl tense up.

'No, please don't touch me!'

'What?' Will lifted up his head with his hand to take a closer look. That soon snapped him wide awake.

'Please, Dad, I didn't mean to...' Even after everything, his son flinched as if expecting a blow.

Will hated how craven he sounded and if this was a month ago, he would've slapped his son silly for it. Remembering what he'd been through recently was enough to stop his annoyance from escalating though.

For now.

With a forceful effort at self-control, he held back and managed to keep his voice soft and non-threatening. 'Sh...It's OK.'

'I'm sorry.' Daryl wiped the tears furiously off his face. 'I ain't a pussy.'

'I know ya not, shh…I know you're not. Don't worry, I ain't gonna punish you for cryin'. It must all still be pretty raw. But next time...'

Instead of replying, Daryl grew pale.

'I only meant that you've got to get over what happened sometime, Daryl. For your own sake, and for mine. I want to have my boy back.' Will quickly backtracked. 'The sooner - the better, son. You're a Dixon, after all.'

Daryl could only nod reluctantly in agreement.

'Get up.' Will ordered him suddenly out of the blue, hearing his own breathing grow faster as he did so. Why he'd told him to do that wasn't quite clear in his own mind. In any case, something told him not to just reach out and grab him like he would have done normally – the boy was clearly freaked out.

Daryl got up with a questioning look but still blissfully unaware when the truth was that he was right to be worried. If he'd known the thoughts racing through his father's head just then, he would have run as far away as he could without ever looking back. But since he couldn't read minds, he sheepishly obeyed with a very confused look on his face.

'Come here.' Will commanded and spread his legs wide, indicating for Daryl to stand in the space he'd created between them. Daryl hung back at first and merely shook his head, clearly frightened.

'Oh, come on , boy. I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm ya father for fuck's sake!' It was true, Will hadn't so much as laid a hand on him since the attack.

The attack was better way for him to think of what had happened rather than the rape. Somehow it made it a bit easier for him to deal with Mike's despicable actions and it was less painful that way. He could hardly bear to think of what could have happened to Daryl if he hadn't got there when he did…. In Will's mind, he'd become the hero of the hour, riding in at the very last possible moment to save him. Still, his son had been traumatised enough, and Will knew that he would only drive himself crazy imagining the sheer terror he must have felt. So, with a huge wrench of effort, he managed to stop himself from dwelling on the details which wouldn't do any good anyway. He focused on his son in the here and now instead.

Reluctantly, Daryl moved forward to stand where Will wanted him. It was enough to make the father lick his lips in anticipation when he imagined what he could make him do while in that position. The same position Mike must have had him in when he forced him to take his dick in his mouth. This lead to Will trying to imagine what his son had been like. Whether he had done Mike over good with his mouth and tongue. Did he know instinctively how to use them for maximum pleasure without being taught like he sometimes did in Will's fantasies? Or had he been like he was in his favourite one where he needed to be tutored? By his own father no less. Probably the latter, why would a boy his age know how to do it properly?

The father part of him worried that this would all be too familiar for Daryl, but mostly he was enjoying watching him squirm and the power he held over him was enough to make him rock hard. Will just couldn't resist.

'Oh, don't look at me like that, I only want to have a look at ya.' Will cooed and lightly touched his arm to encourage him to come closer. 'Calm down. I ain't gonna hurt ya.' He soothed but Daryl still refused to look at him.

'Come, now. I said there ain't nothin' to be afraid of.' He repeated gently and tilted his son's chin up so that he could clearly see his face. 'See? Ain't so bad, is it?'

Ain't gonna force ya like he did, he added mentally as he looked into those sad eyes, too old and haunted for his youth. Daddy's going to take all that pain away and make you forget.

'I won't hurt you. Not ever again.' He spoke out loud this time and drew him closer then, praying that his body would behave and not betray him. So far, so good, but his son continued to quiver like a leaf in his arms. Will wondered briefly what made him so different from his brother – even before Mike, he had always been so highly-strung. Not weak exactly – the boy could fight back when cornered and was no coward. He should have remembered that kids rarely turned out the same and there was no use in comparing them.

'I just wanted to make sure that you were really awake and knew the difference between me and him. But you passed the test.'

Daryl looked up at him in confusion, not really sure what his father was getting at or why he felt the need to test him like that, but he nodded in relief that it was over and that's when Will pulled him onto his lap again.

'If you want to, you can go back to sleep now.' Will said to him tenderly and started to rock them out of pure habit.

When Daryl didn't protest, Will smiled and held him closer. 'I'll stay awake, I promise.'

Daryl let out a deep shuddering sigh as he rested his head trustingly on his chest, relieved that his Dad hadn't punished him for crying like he would have in the past. In fact, things had got a whole lot better at home because of Mike. He was still amazed over the fact that his Dad rarely so much as raised his voice to him anymore. There were no more beatings or other punishments now, these days there were long periods of time where they just sat there enjoyed each other's company on the old couch, while Daryl glowed under the praise his father poured on him that used to be almost unheard of.

But then Will did something he'd never done before. He thought of it as some sort of reward to himself for always being there for his son without losing control when he knew that it was such an easy thing for him to do.

So, later when he decided it was time for bed, he woke up his son. This time, however, he didn't order him up to bed like he usually did, earning himself a surprised look from Daryl. He could easily tell when he got up to follow him that Daryl was unnerved to say the least.

'Dad – ya don't have to. Told ya already that I'm OK – I won't wake up, promise.' Daryl had turned around.

'That's not what I'm worried about, son. Go on, get up 'em stairs.' Will couldn't resist touching himself briefly through his jeans as soon as the boy's back was turned and was forced to stifle a moan.

It was obvious that his son wasn't happy about it, after all he never did seem to remember the times beyond count that Will had been there, lulling him back to restful sleep when he had bad dreams. Besides, Will always made sure he was gone in the morning before Daryl woke up.

'Dad – you don't need to stay.' He tried again once they reached his room. He said it with that pitiful look of bewilderment on his face too, and it irritated Will that his son clearly wasn't thrilled by this new idea.

'I ain't gonna get into bed with ya, I just wanna keep watch until you fall asleep. You worried me downstairs when you told me not to touch you… That you thought I was Mike – even if you were dreaming… I don't want you to mistake me for that piece of shit who hurt you like that.'

When Daryl saw the determined look on his face, his son could do nothing and he knew it. So he let it go.

'Get in.' He heard his Dad rasp behind him when they got to his bed.

Daryl obeyed in a surreal daze, unable to quite believe this was happening for real. It was out of character, even for this new version of his dad and that unnerved him. He didn't even dare to wonder why his Dad was behaving so oddly and what that strange gleam in his eye meant.

Or why he sounded so strange.

Once he had drawn the cover over his son and tucked him in snugly, Will clambered onto the bed and spooned him from behind.

'There, there. I'll go once ya fast asleep, OK, son?' However, he stayed decorously on top of the bed with the light cover between them since the heat of summer was increasing by the day. His throbbing organ wouldn't let him move too much, he couldn't risk his son noticing his erection.

Didn't matter, he knew he wouldn't let it control him. Dixons were masters at self-control and Will would hold back until Daryl was safely sleeping until he took care of himself. How many times had he held back from the boy throughout the years? Thousands.

Unseen by him, Daryl frowned because his Dad had never done this before – holding him on the couch was one thing but being there with him on the bed was something else entirely. Merle had done the same, he'd even got into the bed with him a few times and held him close under the covers when he really needed it. Somehow, it didn't seem weird when his brother did it. But Dad didn't do stuff like that.

Despite his arms around him, Daryl was unable to fall asleep. He was simply too nervous and he felt his heart racing when he thought how his dad had left that threat hanging in the air earlier – it didn't exactly match his promises – there was no wonder he couldn't relax. He was on edge and wired up with adrenalin and his pulse was thumping steadily in his ears. He couldn't forget that his dad was there and fall asleep, especially when he'd slept most of the day away.

The teenager closed his eyes and deliberately slowed down his breathing to fool him. But he still didn't leave. Either his dad knew Daryl was only faking being asleep or he deliberately broke the promise and stayed long after he thought Daryl had fallen asleep. The teenager didn't know which was worse.

But apparently once his dad thought he was safe, he concentrated on tracing Daryl's shoulders lightly with his fingertips, alternating between that and stroking his hair which usually would have comforted him, but this time it didn't. This time it was hard for him not to squirm away from his father's touch because something about it just felt off.

Daryl knew that he only meant to comfort him, but it had the opposite effect. He felt so uncomfortable but he didn't dare move or let him know he wasn't really sleeping. His Dad would no doubt hurt him for pulling a stunt like that - Daryl had to be blind not to sense his growing impatience with him when he failed to get over Mike quick enough, he had said so himself, that from now on, he wouldn't be so understanding about the tears or the bad dreams. His dad was a lot of things, but he always kept true to his word.

So, Daryl found that he could do nothing except carry on and endure this new type of comfort from his father.

….

Later on, Merle came into Daryl's bedroom to check on him like he did every time he came home and was in a fit enough state. Lucky for Dad, he'd just left mere minutes before.

Daryl blinked awake – he'd only been feigning slumber, praying that Dad would go. Eventually his eyes began to feel like they had sand in them and he was tired for real despite how long he'd slept that day already. But with the funny feeling in his stomach this brought up, he wouldn't let himself fall asleep and when his dad finally decided to go, he had let out a sigh of relief.

'Merle?' He whispered to the tall shape standing in his doorway, framed by the light on the landing. Nearly as tall but slighter than their father – he knew instantly who it was. And immediately burst into the tears he'd been denied earlier.

Merle wiped his hands on his jeans and was over there like a shot, crouching down in front of him, hugging him and asking him what was wrong.

'I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a pussy.' He apologised and wiped his eyes furiously.

'Sh… Stop talkin' like that...after everythin' you've been through, nobody could blame you for gettin' a little upset now and again.'

'Merle...ya don't think I'm a pussy?'

His brother's sad little face looking up him, pleading for approval would have melted the hardest of hearts.

'No! Jesus...if someone had tried to hurt me like Mike did you, I would have cried too!'

'Really?' Daryl's lower lip was trembling and his eyes continued to fill with tears before he shook his head in disbelief. 'No, you wouldn't.' He sighed miserably.

'Pretty sure I would. You been asleep for long?

'Nope. Hey, did you see dad?'

'Downstairs. Drinkin' and fallin asleep in front of the TV, I guess.'

Merle didn't miss his little brother's sigh of relief.

'What's wrong?' He was immediately alert, sober for once after finishing work and sank down on the edge of the bed.

'Where's this all comin' from?' Merle asked as he stroked his hair softly before his voice turned hard. 'Did Dad say somethin' to you?'

'No...Not exactly...'

'What do you mean "not exactly?"'

Daryl fell silent, not wanting to say too much.

Merle rounded on him, snorting fire. 'He hit you again or said something stupid, didn't he?' Merle wasn't as naïve to buy into this whole 'new perfect Dad' act. A leopard never changes its spots, especially a mean old one like their father.

'He didn't, alright! He don't do that anymore!'

'Maybe not. But I know him, he can say one word to make you feel bad. Knows how to press our buttons, the fucker. He's sure done somethin' to upset you.'

'I don't know...he…' Daryl didn't have the words to explain what had happened that day, standing between his father's legs like that had sparked unwelcome memories of Mike when he'd been in the same position. And most disturbing of all, his Dad had seemed to enjoy it because somehow he knew why it would scare him. Then his Dad's covert threats, him holding him on the bed, once even pressing his lips in the feather- lightest of kisses to his bare shoulder, so fleeting that Daryl wasn't sure if he'd imagined that one. He shuddered and told himself he must have because it was too weird otherwise. Right?

When it had been comforting being close to his Dad on the couch, being this close to him in his bedroom where it had happened made him so wound up that he couldn't fall sleep. His Dad and his bedroom had always been separate – his father had come to tuck him in before, but he'd never stayed and in his mind, the two shouldn't mix.

'No...but?' Trust his big brother not to give up until he found out the truth.

'Merle...'

His brother turned to him and it seemed like his eyes were two spotlights that were boring into his very soul and Daryl couldn't look away.

There was nowhere to hide.

'He...he said I should get over it by now.' He shrugged more casually than he felt and hung his head in shame. 'Said he wasn't even going to punish me for cryin' about Mike this time, but next time he would. I…I had another nightmare about him.' He explained abashed.

He looked up under his wet lashes only to see his big brother's face flush with anger, the thundercloud now dissolving into bolts of lightening in his eyes instead, fists clenched at his side.

'I'm sorry, OK!' Daryl recoiled from the rage emanating on Merle's face, mistaking it for being directed at him. 'It was MY fault, I know I shouldn't have cried but I had a bad dream. Thought it was...'

'He said what?' His brother spluttered as he interrupted him in fury.

Daryl stuttered, and tried to say something but couldn't get his words out.

'I knew it! Fuckin' bastard...He's never going to change...' He whirled round and ran for the door.

'Merle, don't! Come back! He'll...' Daryl started to get up from his bed to run after him but when he realized it was too late, he sank back against the covers. Merle was already near the bottom of the stairs with his long legs. A few seconds later, he heard raised voices.

'Get over it?...not punish him for cryin' but you will next time?'

'It's not a big deal, Merle. All I said was that I hoped that he could start getting over that kiddie-fucker soon. Quit babying him, will ya?'

'That's not how he heard it because you did threaten to punish him, didn't you? Is your father of the year mask starting to show its cracks?'

'How dare you speak to me like that! If you weren't so big and twice as ugly, I'd…I'd…'

Daryl couldn't hold back the whimper that escaped him and tried to cover his ears to try and block out the yelling, thinking his brother shouldn't be speaking to their father like that. There'd be trouble for sure.

'You'd do what? Whip me with your belt like you used to? Use your hunting knife? What the fuck, Dad? He's just a kid and the bastard practically raped him!'

Daryl winced at the indirect reference to his abuser. Unseen by him in the living room, is father winced right along with him as he retorted, 'Keep ya voice down. He'll hear you!'

Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin at his father's voice but finally managed to finish his sentence weakly, '...he didn't rape me. He only tried to.' He huddled under the covers, trying to shut out the world and the angry voices with it.

Apparently it hadn't come to blows – it was true, Dad wouldn't hit Merle now that he almost was as big as him. His brother would never dare strike their father but at one point, listening to him, Daryl actually thought he would he was so angry.

Now they were just screaming at each other and throwing things, it sounded like. All over him.

There was another big crash – sounded like glass breaking and Daryl yelped and flinched helplessly on the bed as he heard it break against the wall.

Downstairs, Merle seemed to have managed to outshout even their Dad.
'You stay away from him, ya hear me! Unless you're helpin' him!' Daryl even heard his brother order their Dad, making him quake in shock.

….

But he needn't have worried, he heard Merle come up the stairs and suddenly there was a dark silhouette standing in his doorframe.

'Alright if I come in?' Daryl wondered secretly why he had to ask but still, he thought it was nice of him and that he liked it. In contrast to the loud and slightly inconsiderate Merle that he was used to, that was. 'Sure.'

'Come here. I talked to him, he understands now.' Merle's hands were running up and down his back over his pyjama shirt. They never wandered as far as Dad's did. They never slid under his clothes as if even his fingers scrabbling over his bare skin could never get close enough. Besides, unlike with their father, Daryl felt entirely at peace, after all, Merle's hands had never hurt him.

'I'm sorry I'm such a pussy.' Daryl apologised again. 'It's been a long time, thought I was gettin' back to normal.'

'Sh...'Course ya ain't back to normal yet. It ain't been that long since...'

'I'm trying to get over it, I swear I am! But when I dream… I can't… And now look what's happening! You and Dad are fightin', all 'cos of me.' Daryl blurted out tearfully, interrupting him. 'I'm causing trouble between you…'

'Don't you worry about that.' Merle didn't tell him to stop crying, only made soothing noises as he put a comforting arm around his shaking shoulders.

'I jus' can't stop myself when I dream. It's like he's always there, waiting for me...' Daryl explained.

He couldn't help himself, he felt so damn weak – his Dad was right, he was no Dixon. Like he'd been stripped naked with his clothes on, he felt raw, ripped open. By then however, his brother's hands were even in his hair, doing their best to make him feel better for as long as it took. Most importantly, his brother let him cry his fill without telling him to man up once.

'I ain't gonna let him hurt you, ain't gonna let anyone hurt my baby brother.' Merle growled out fiercely in his ear, yet his touch was gentle. Daryl snuggled up to him contentedly, believing his promises and Merle held him closer.

With him, Daryl was asleep in minutes.