TTWH 21

I was 13 years old again and my flailing arms had no real strength in them. Not like when until I became a man. Even then I was starting to act like a Dixon like he kept battering into us. Literally. He should have been pleased.

Except when he did that. But I never cried except for the first time. It was the shock and pain.

Whenever he did that shit – I would resist and plead with him to stop.

He would but only to shake me. 'Ya want me to do it to ya brother? 'Cos I will if ya make me stop now.'

'No! Don't do it to him!' I screamed in my reedy, sometimes-broken-but-not-always voice and he smiled smugly. Because him threatening Daryl with this always got me. After all, I was used to this, I could take it. But him? Not that he was weak by any means but if he had to endure what I did, it would ruin him for good and I couldn't bear the thought of that. Besides, he was a lot younger than me. Dad could really hurt him if he pushed it all the way in like he did me...probably break him in half! No matter how much lube he used or how slow he went because to give him his due, he usually tried to be gentle with me unless I had really pissed him off.

Better not to argue to give the sick fuck what he wanted.

'Good boy.' He praised and ruffled my hair immediately before he started thrusting inside me again. 'Ya so good to me.' He moaned appreciatively and kissed neck, making me squirm in disgust – not least at what he was saying as what he was doing.

He snarled and brutally yanked my hair back at my almost instinctive reaction while I tried to hold back any noise of protest. That always got him mad.

I'd forgotten to play along.

I don't know how he didn't put me off sex forever – I guess I had too much of a libido and my own sick mind that I couldn't blame it all on him. Maybe it was the Dixon curse?

'Ya Mama won't let me touch her...and a man has his needs, ya'll understand that when ya grown.'

I cringed inside at this little too much bit of information that was his habit to give me...especially when he fucked me – his own son and I couldn't help answering back.

'Yeah...maybe but I'll never be as sick as ya! Never force myself on anyone!'

Instead of getting angry at that, he chuckled. 'Oh, yeah?' He stroked my hair making me cringe back even more under his heavy hand.' Ya a Dixon, ain't ya? And ya jus' like ya Daddy. A pervert.'

'No, I ain't! Ain't nothin' like ya!'

But it was like he didn't even hear as he really got into things. His moans and thrusts coming harder, finally drawing little cries of pain from me despite my determination not to show much it hurt.

How those words came back to haunt me later. Not that cared much at the time. Only after I found Daryl again. Seeing him again and his reaction to the things I'd done made me remember myself.

Bored and needing something to distract me from reality, I started to count the number of thrusts as he pounded into me. I was silent, having got myself back under control again.

'No, Dad, NO!' I found myself yelling though as soon as I felt that he was not far from the finishing line.

'M...Merle?' Daryl whispered in his tentative way as he squirmed out of my arms and turned around to cup my face gently with his hands. 'What is it?'

'No...no, don't touch me!' I immediately jerked away. It was still stark and I was confused by the aftermath of the nightmare that was really a memory – I'd been having a lot of them since the old man came back. I wondered if Daryl had really meant it about killing him for me, I was almost ready to let him. Because I couldn't and him being here with us was bad on so many levels. Not least that he already had his beady eye on Carl – according to my brother and I was surprised that no-one else had noticed him moving on him or was creeped out by the old fuck. Still, I knew they didn't like him much -even the ones who didn't know about my brother's scars – at least I hoped that not everyone knew.

Still, neither of us told Rick or had tried to really to make him leave.

Or put the sick old dog down.

….

Now our roles were reversed and it was my little brother making me feel better when that was my job.

Of course, he weren't doing it in the way I wanted to ...sick fuck that I was. Maybe Dad was right all along about me?

'Ya dreamin' about him again?' He pulled me to his chest and ran his fingers through my hair – our positions reserved from the last few weeks when he'd been broken from Woodbury and the group had done nothing to help him, as far as I could see. I was still furious with them for that – one of my reasons for wanting to get us away.

'Well, he's fuckin' here, ain't he?'

Without being able to see him, I sensed him smile coldly in the dark and for some reason it chilled me. My sweet baby brother was not the same since his stay at Woodbury and while I had only half believed that he was capable of murdering our dear old dad, then I believed that he could actually do it. The thing with Jones had been a big surprise – he'd wanted revenge – literally the eye for an eye kind but in the end he hadn't been able to stay and watch me mete it out let alone join in. I knew it had sickened him and a big part of me had been glad that he wasn't like me. I'd wanted to keep him untouched but I'd failed miserably at that but at least he hadn't sunk to my level. Had stopped my fun in fact because there was no need to feel guilty about doing Jones and I could really enjoy it. Let myself go infact in giving that asshole who had hurt my brother so badly what he deserved.

'I meant what I said about killin' the old bastard – he ain't safe around the kids. Especially boys.' His lower trembled when he said that last word, probably remembering me.

'Though he probably wouldn't touch Sophia...ya know how old school he is about anyone without a dick.' I reluctantly argued.

'I know.' He replied when he felt me shiver, he pulled me tighter against him and I kept thinking of the one way he could make me forget all about Dad. But he had said that was never going to happen ever again so that was that.

'Daryl...he's still our Dad.' I tried to reason with him. For all that, he was still our one surviving family member as far as we knew.

That made him sit right up and shove me off him angrily. 'No he ain't. He stopped bein' our Dad when he ...he did that sick shit to ya. Did Momma know?'

'And what about what he did to you?' I didn't want to answer that particular question.

'Weren't nothin'. ' He shrugged like the scars on his back didn't matter. 'Not even what happened to me with the governor's men at Woodbury weren't nothin'...not compared with what he did. 'Cos he was our father and ya were jus' a kid.'

'Yeah...but what about what I did there? And what I did to those animals who fucked ya?' By that I only meant Jones and I personally didn't feel an ounce of regret about what I'd done to him but I wanted to see how he felt about it. And me afterwards.

He winced at that word. Me and my big Dixon mouth.

'They deserved it...ya know that sick fuck Jones always said to me before he shoved it in without lube?'

I shook my head because I didn't know. Not sure I wanted to but he clearly wanted to tell me. The first time he was able to talk about what was done to him as a prisoner without shaking. I could see that he was calm and talking about things in a detached voice because while we were talking, it had been getting lighter. Hopefully, the rest of the camp was still fast asleep – no chance of them hearing but they would be stirring soon.

'No, tell me little brother.' I shifted so that I could put my arms around him and pull him back against me.

'This is gonna hurt me more than you.' Now that tell-tale quiver was back in his voice when it had been absent from it for months. 'Can ya believe that shit?'

'Sick fuck...wish ya'd let me fuck him to death like I wanted to...like he threatened ya with...Bastard was blowin' me hard and good 'til ya stopped us.' Seeing him like he was after made my anger rise in my chest again. A hot lump of fiery burning coal – it felt like until it blocked my throat, making it hard to swallow all of a sudden.

Incredibly, he chuckled at that but still I could tell that tears weren't far off. First time he'd cried about what those sick fucks did to him in a long while and I really didn't want him to.

'Sh...Baby, it's OK.' I rubbed circles on his back while he nodded against me. 'Fucker's dead, he can't hurt ya no more.'

'I know.' He croaked out, not even reacting to what I just called him. I called him that a lot since our relationship had gone up another level. Then again, he could just take it to mean short for 'baby brother'.

'Sh...' I repeated.

His trembling slowly started to fade away as I started to rock us back and forth just like Momma used to. It worked because he did manage not to cry. So I dared to lay a couple of quick kisses on his throat under the guise of making him 'feel all better.' He gasped and I caught sight of a cute blush spread below his jawline but otherwise he didn't say anything.

I didn't try to push things further. Even I wasn't such a shit as to take advantage of him when he was upset and needing comfort. But his response gave me hope...maybe it wasn't all over between us like he said. If I could get him to...well never mind.

Eventually he dozed off even though it was dawn now and there were sounds of some of early risers in the the camp stirring. As if to torment me even more, the little bastard slung a leg across my hips.

'Jesus fucked!' I hissed in frustration. 'Don't do this to me.' I groaned. 'Jus' lie still otherwise...otherwise ya gonna make me...' My voice trailed off as I stifled a grown.

But he just kept on shifting awhile in his sleep up to the point I was going to wake him up just to make him stop before he pushed me past the point of no return. Even though part of me desperately wanted him to. But then, without warning, he finally settled down.

I must have dozed off too because we woke up to the sound of Rick bawling in that hatefully cheery voice of his outside our tent, 'It's 9 o'clock...time to get up! We all got jobs to do!' Before he moved on to the next tent of sleepyheads.

'Fuckin' asshole.' I bitched although to be fair, Dixons usually rose with the sun but not today. 'Who's he to tell us when to get up., huh?' The cop always got right up my nose with his orders barked at everybody, including my brother. Who he'd tied to the bed when he didn't know how to deal with him any more - so others had told me. Left him crying alone all night if it hadn't been for his friend, that chink kid.

Daryl got up and frowned to see how he'd been lying on top of me but didn't comment.

I didn't either. Why poke the elephant in the corner of the tent?

…

Will Dixon crept away silently from his sons' tent and wiped his eyes furiously of the shameful pussy tears. He was a Dixon and knew how to hide from another – it was the hunter in all of them – that he had trained in both his boys. When money had been tight – he didn't delve into the reasons mainly involving his drugs and drinking – they'd hunted the forest to survive. Eaten anything they could catch...deer, wild hog, porcupine, racoon – even squirrel when they were desperate. He doubted either of them had heard him, so intent on each other and what they were saying...opening old wounds and making them bleed, it sounded like.

Now he knew what had happened to his youngest, it had made him cry the first time since he couldn't remember himself. Not since he was very young, anyway until his own father had taught him how to be a Dixon. Yet his mouth had twisted in a kind of reluctant prideful smile when heard how his boys had dealt with the rapists. Given them some of their own medicine, so it had sounded like. And that's why Merle was being like that with him – that was the only reason. The boy had needed it too.

'Daryl!' He whispered in genuine grief. Did they really threaten to rape ya to death, poor boy?'... 'This is gonna hurt me more than you?' He had repeated after them silently mouthing the words in disbelief, not risking that they would hear him with their keen Dixon ears. Without lube - it was so sick ...it was unreal, almost like a kiddie pantomime!

Typically, he didn't dwell on what they'd said about him...how he was a danger to young boys or Daryl threatening again to kill him again. More bark than bite in that boy, not that he wasn't tough. Will Dixon didn't think about anything he didn't want to or believe it, for that matter. Besides, the father couldn't actually believe that either of them had the guts to kill him – he knew that some part of them deep inside them still loved him and he was sure that he could eventually convince Daryl that Merle was lying or had imagined it. The shock of hearing what had happened to him had forced it all from his mind.

It was clear now why he had found them...been reunited with them again. He was not a superstitious or religious man by any means but he did feel there was some outside force directing things. Like it had thrown them back together for a purpose.

When he'd heard Merle taking care of his brother like that, he'd left, knowing that he knew what best to do. His mind at ease once again because nothing was going on between them. Not like he'd feared although he'd seen the way Merle had looked at his little brother when they'd been growing up. Nothing had changed either.

He couldn't remember when exactly it had started and typically, he didn't ask himself if it had been after he and Merle started playing their special father and son games.

Will Dixon strode back to his own tent to rest. He wasn't tired – he rarely slept more than four hours a night these days.

He smiled gently because he had plans...involving his sons and the Grimes boy.

Especially him.