Hello people! And here's a new chapter for you! I noticed that there's some new people on here!
Hello! I'm happy that you like my fic! Thanks for all your reviews!

From now on everything will be my own storyline, since I did not like the season finale at all!
Just like I said before, it's gonna be about 5+ more chapters and the fic's completed! *sobs* I don't want it to end!

setting: episode 16 "Welcome To The Tombs"

Damnation

Chapter 55 - Burial

"Did you do it?"

Connor turned his head and looked at his friend with a confused frown. They were both still sitting on the grass by the car, staring at the bloody corpse of Merle Dixon.
It had taken Daryl a while to calm down from his crying fit. Now he was just sitting there, an unreadable expression his face as he kept staring at his dead brother.

"Did I do what?" Connor asked back and wouldn't stop looking at Daryl.

They both looked absolutely horrible. They were both physically and emotionally drained, and there was blood everywhere.

"Did you shoot him?" Daryl asked then and finally turned his head to look at his friend as well.

Now there was no sort of affection or any sort of feelings that indicated their tight relationship or maybe even more, now the hunter just looked cold and emotionless.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Connor asked in utterly disbelief.

Daryl just stared back at him, cold as ice.

"You talked 'bout it more than once. And you tried t'do it more than once. When yah threw the knife at him? When you two got into a fight over your stupid picture? Ever since he came back yah did everything just cos this stupid jealousy of yours. You swore you'd kill him just a couple'a days ago. So now that I was gone, did yah finally do it? Yah wanna make it look like an accident?"

Connor stared back at his friend for a very long time, anger and hurt written all over his face.

"I cannot fuckin believe that yer actually suggesting this."

Daryl just turned his head and looked back at Merle's corpse. Connor shook his head and gritted his teeth.

"I would've...no I have done everything I fucking could, alright?! We was sapposed ta go over there t'gether. We were gonna shoot that fucker together and I would've made sure that no one could shoot his ass. I would've died saving his ass fer you and you fucking know that! Fuck, even after he locked me up in that motel room with all those walkers I still went after him ta save his ass and I drove like fuckin hell t'get him back ta Hershel in time. So don't you fucking dare suggest I fucking killed him!"

"I'm just so fucking angry, alright? My brother just died!" Daryl yelled back and got back on his feet.

He started walking in circles and then went for the car, and after staring at it for a good minute he suddenly started kicking and punching it.

"I mean he's Merle! Nothing can kill him! Nothing! I just got him back and THIS CAN'T. BE. IT! HE. CAN'T. BE. DEAD!" he suddenly started yelling and kept kicking and punching the car door and window with every word, and that so hard that Connor actually feared his friend could break his bones.

Connor got back on his feet as well and rushed for his friend to grab him by his shoulders and pull him away from the car. It looked like the younger Dixon was about to have yet another nervous breakdown because of his brother's death, and although there were two shaky and abrupt loud breaths he actually managed to stop himself from having another crying fit.

"It's okay, brother. It's okay, alright? I'm still here. We'll..we'll get this.." Connor muttered but Daryl snorted loudly and shoved his friend away.

"Yeah of course, still got you. Just like you always wanted you selfish bastard. Fuck off" he growled and walked away.

Connor bit his lower lip and put both his hands on his hips. For a second he raised his head and looked up at the sky, then he closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Great. It was exactly like how he had pictured it. As if he didn't blame himself for tons of shit already. Now there was another death added to his list. Oh he was so going to hell for all this crap.

Thanks, god. Thanks a lot, he thought, because once again he couldn't fight the feeling that the whole still being on earth thing was god's way of punishing for his twin's death.

"Look, I'm so fucking sorry man, I really am" he croaked and looked at Daryl again.

"What else do ye want me ta do? Jump off a cliff and ask God ta bring yer brother back instead? Fine, cos I would fucking do that fer you if I could. I would die. To get you yer brother back. I really fucking would, alright? But I can't, and right now I seriously don't know what te fuck I'm sapposed ta do to make it right."

Daryl turned around and looked back at Connor. The Irishman was standing there in front of him, all miserable and bloody and exhausted and just plain tired. The hunter was furious, he was heartbroken, and whenever he had to face Merle's body he felt that all over again, the heartache, the fury, the disbelief. But he knew that Connor was right. There was nothing they could do. There was nothing the Irishman could do. And deep down he knew that it wasn't his friend's fault at all. But right now he didn't want to listen to the voice of reason, he wanted to rage against the world, yell at someone, punch someone, kill someone because this was so so unfair and it hurt so -so- much that he just wanted to let go of his emotions for a second. And Connor happened to be the only person around to who he could do it at the moment.

He gritted his teeth, pressed his lips together and clenched his fists as he tried to calm down. This wasn't the farm anymore, and this wasn't their old relationship anymore. Connor wasn't some sort of toy he could use to let go of his emotions and anger, he was his friend and he knew that the blonde was too fucked already anyway. And there was no need to add up to that. He took a deep breath and rested his eyes on his brother's body. Now he was just angry at Merle, now he just wanted him to disappear instead of Connor.

"Let's just take 'im and get away from here" he growled and then headed for the bloody corpse.

He wouldn't let Connor drive anymore. For one because his friend was physically even more screwed than him, but also because he wanted to be in charge of their next plans, he wanted to decide where they headed next. Thousands of emotions were still raging through him as they sped down the road. He would look in the rearview mirror every once in a while, to look at where he and Connor had put Merle's body. They didn't have anything to cover the battered corpse. All Daryl had been able to do was put his red rag on his brother's face to hide the mess, the shame, to hide what he had done to his own brother.

He regretted having stabbed Merle so many times now. His siblings face was unrecognizable, all he had left were his memories. And for the first time he understood why Connor had freaked out so much when the picture of Murphy's face had been destroyed. Suddenly it was so incredibly hard to remember Merle's face, his mannerisms, everything that had made him his big brother. He couldn't even remember the very last time he had seen his face as it was, the last time he had seen the color of his eyes and all that sentimental crap you never really paid attention to and never really thought about until it was gone. From one second to the next. It had happened so. fucking. fast. Just like that. Just a couple hours ago he and Merle had been talking.

He felt another big lump in his throat as he replayed their last conversation in his head over and over again.

I just want my brother back, that's what he'd told him.

Why did he have to say something like this to him? Merle had already been there. He should've told him how much he mattered to him. He should've told him how happy he was that he was back after everything that had happened in Atlanta. He should've told him how much he admired him.

He should've should've should've.

He shouldn't have said that at all.

Because now he felt like Merle had died regretting his choice of words during their last conversation, he just knew it.

Disgusting, that had been the last word Merle had said to him.

Although the younger Dixon knew that he had not meant it. He knew that Merle had really loved him as his baby brother. But still.
Everything had happened so fast.

Too fast.
Poof. Gone. Just like that.
Too soon.
Too fucking soon.

Daryl swallowed hard and stopped looking at his brother's bloody corpse. They had just reached the crossroads that would either lead them back to the prison or somewhere else, to Griffin, to that godforsaken place where they had come across the cannibals just a couple of weeks earlier. The hunter hit the breaks and slowed the car down until it came to a halt right in the middle of the crossroads. He could sense how Connor suddenly shifted next to him and had a look around, confusion written all over his face. The Irishman had not said one single word ever since they had left the place where Merle had died. He had not apologized, he had not said anything. He just looked defeated, and almost as upset as Daryl.

But it was different with the hunter now. He was far from upset, and he was far from feeling defeated. No. All this would have to wait until later. He needed to end this in a whole different way now. He grabbed the steering wheel with both his hands and stared straight ahead, lost in thoughts. Then, after thinking about it for a moment he turned their car to the left, away from the prison, towards Griffin.

"What..where are we going?" Connor muttered and sat up straight with a confused frown.

Daryl accelerated and then sped down the road that led away from the prison.
He looked in the rearview mirror again and swallowed hard, the expression on his face still unreadable as if he was made of stone.

"There's something I gotta do" he muttered and drove faster, because he wanted this to get done with as soon as possible.
He was getting sick of seeing his brother so broken, so battered, so dishonoured, so dead.

"I ain't gonna bury him behind fences, and I ain't gonna bury him anywhere close to a prison. He spent half his life behind bars and fences.
He would hate being buried there."

They found the church after driving around for more than one hour. They could still make out the makeshift grave on the hill where they had buried the girl. Connor was actually surprised that Daryl really wanted to do this, bury his brother so far away from their home. But this was what his friend wanted to do so he said nothing. They dug the grave together after searching the nearby graveyard for a shovel, and Connor still couldn't help but feel uneasy whenever he got close to Daryl or Merle's body. He felt so terribly, terribly sorry. For everything. He had really wanted to make this right. So much. He had never wanted Merle to die, and he knew that now.

Of course. He had been jealous, he had hated that bastard and the older Dixon had really been a violent asshole, but he knew evil people when he saw them. And when they had this conversation about Daryl and everything they would do to keep the younger Dixon save, Connor had understood that deep deep down Merle Dixon had never been truly evil. And no matter how many people he had killed because of their deeds and no matter what Merle had done, he still believed in redemption. He still believed in forgiveness.

Therefore I tell you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven—for she loved much.
If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.

Everyone did wrong in their life. Him. Merle. What made sins unforgiveable was when people felt no remorse committing them, when they were emotionless and cold about committing them, when they didn't feel a thing and when they didn't have a conscience. But Merle had not been like that. There had been true emotion inside him, there had been remorse, there had been regret, there had been sadness, there had been love for his brother. Certainly not every shady bastard deserved to be forgiven, but after seeing and hearing all this he thought that Merle Dixon had been one of the very few people who would have deserved forgiveness. He would've deserved to redeem himself. Especially because he had been Daryl's brother and he knew how much his friend had needed his older sibling. Connor knew that deep down he never would've killed Merle Dixon. He would have tried to make him better. To make him worthy enough to be Daryl's brother. And now it was too late.

They kept digging the hole for quite a while and Daryl insisted that he was going to carry Merle's body inside the grave himself.
Connor just stood there and watched, face covered with sweat, dirt and blood after all the mess that had happened today.

And as Daryl clung to his brother's body it almost looked like he was going to cry again, but the whole dragging and positioning the body inside the grave was so exhausting and difficult that he had no time for doing any such thing. He headed for the end of the grave and reached out so Connor could pull him back up, and once they were done with the whole thing both men just stood in front of the empty grave and stared at Merle's body. They didn't say or do anything for a while, and they really appreciated that no walkers were around to disturb this very private moment. Connor swallowed hard as another wave of guilt rushed over him, and he still wouldn't really look Daryl in the eyes.

"'m so sorry about yer brother" he finally said, voice low, soft and even broken.

He really was sorry. So sorry that he couldn't even put words to it.
Daryl wouldn't look at him either, but he could still feel that the hunter wasn't really mad at him.

"Ain't your fault" Daryl muttered after a while, which made the Irishman look at him.

He was actually surprised because of that remark, because just an hour ago the hunter had said something else.

"Know you dumbass just tried t'help. Save everybody. Save Merle."

Connor bit his lower lip and nodded gently.

"Aye" he murmured and Daryl sighed. He kept staring at his brother's corpse. Connor moved closer to his friend.

"Y'know, he tried t'do the same. He didn't lock me in that motel room because we got in a fight. He knew it was a suicide mission. He didn't want me ta die cos he knew how upset you were gonna be if ye lost both of us. He wanted ta keep me alive fer you. He knew it was gonna kill us and that there was little chance of surviving this. But he still did it. He went there all on his own. He told me that he was gonna make sure it was gonna keep the prison standing because you like it here. He did all of this just fer you. You know that?"

Daryl pressed his lips together and it was obvious that he was fighting tears.
But he would not cry, he stayed strong and looked at Merle's body, and this time he didn't just look upset and angry, now he also looked a bit astonished.

"Merle never did nothing like that his whole life."

Connor nodded and put a hand on his shoulder to squeeze it gently.

"He might have done some fucked up things in his life, but he did die a hero if ye ask me."

Daryl turned his head to look at the blonde then, and just for a second he looked like a lost little kid, a little boy who had just lost his parents and really needed to hear something like this.

"And I really respect him fer that" Connor went on and nodded. Daryl nodded back after a moment and the Irishman let go of his shoulder with a gentle sigh.

"You wanna be on yer own?"

Daryl shook his head and then looked at the hole for a moment.
Connor just stood there and waited for him to tell him what he was supposed to do now that he didn't want him gone.

"No, but there's something yah can do for me" he muttered and the Irishman nodded once more.

"Aye, sure" he said as he stepped closer to the grave and put his healthy hand in his jeans pocket.

"I wanna give Merle a proper burial. I want him t'be a free man. 's why I chose this hill so close to that church."

"What do ye want me ta do?"

Daryl chewed on his lips because he felt awkward all of a sudden. Awkward and incredibly upset. Part of him could almost hear Merle yell at him and call him a sentimental sissy and god knows what, but he also knew that his brother would've wanted this.

"People never really knew, but Merle really believed in god. Just like yah. I know, don't look like it, but he knew the bible, cover to back.
I think when he was little he even went t'church every Sunday just t'run away from our parents."

There was a long pause as Daryl had to think about all sorts of childhood memories.
Once again realisation hit him right in the face.

Oh god. His big brother was gone. Merle was just..Merle was dead.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Ain't no way 'm gonna give him any of that sentimental crap like a cross or something. He wouldn't want that. No, but he would've loved t'hear some of your..some of your bible..things. Hell I don't know, just..just say something for him?" Daryl muttered and then looked at his friend, knowing that Connor was even more religious than Merle had ever been. The Irishman actually looked surprised, because never in his life would he have expected something like this. But he could see that it was important to Daryl, so he had to do this.

"Of course. Of course.." he said and grabbed his rosary, trying to gather his thoughts on what he should say.

Daryl nodded but asked him to wait for a second longer, because he needed to get the bottle of whiskey he had found in the back of the car. Connor frowned when he saw it, but decided not to say anything to that. He waited for Daryl to come back, and once everything was settled he started praying for Merle Dixon, and he gave Daryl the funeral eulogy he needed so badly. Once he was done with the speech and they had successfully buried Merle Dixon underneath a heap of earth the younger Dixon suddenly opened the botlle of whiskey and took a long sip.

He then went over to the grave and stared at it for a while, and once again Connor couldn't read the expression on his face. He could only guess what was going through his friend's mind, because he knew all to well what it felt like to lose your brother. He was actually surprised and respected Daryl, considering how he was taking it a whole lot manlier than he had back in Boston, when he had been a quivering and bawling mess for days. But truth was that there was no comparison at all. Because he and Murphy had been completely different compared to Merle and Daryl, and although he hated to admit it: he himself was a whole lot weaker than his friend in that regard. The hunter kept staring at the grave with the bottle in his hand. He then saluted with the bottle, took another sip and gasped because the whiskey burned on his throat.

"Everything that's about t'happen next's gonna be for you, bro" he then muttered and poured some whiskey on the grave, as if he was sharing it with Merle.

"This is gonna be for you" he repeated and stared at the puddle of whiskey for a while.

Connor finally stepped closer.

"So what do ye wanna do now?" he muttered, unsure if he was allowed to interrupt this very private moment or not.

Daryl turned around after a moment to look at Connor.
The look on his face had changed drastically from one second to the next.
Now he just looked furious, stone cold and simply dangerous.

" We're gonna break into Woodbury, and we're gonna kill that evil son of a bitch that killed my brother."