Author Note: Surprise! New chapter. I hope you guys enjoy this.

As always, I want to thank everyone who left a comment or followed this story. You make me wanna write all day and all night.

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own The Walking Dead.

Merle's Pov!

The truth was: It had always been Daryl and him. Merle didn't really count the time when his brother hadn't been born — the thirteen years he spent alone in the awful hole they'd called a house were a waste, truly. He got drunk, sold drugs and tried to be out of his father's sight as much as possible. He had been planning on moving away, even if it had pained him to leave his mother there, but it all changed the night his mother told him she was pregnant.

He had been away for three months straight, sleepin' in the house of his latest drug buyer. A delusional guy that thought he was goin' to get free drugs by being his friend. As if. Merle didn't have friends.

Being away wasn't an uncommon thing for him. In fact, he was away more often than he was at the house — he refused to even think of it as a home. If only his mother agreed to leave Will... He also refused to call Will his father, he was, at most, a crappy sperm donor.

When he opened the door, he found his mother crying on the sofa and his father nowhere to be seen. Nothing new. She was curled up and had angry red marks on her arms. Nothing new. She looked up with the noise of the door and Merle could see the black eye she was spottin'. Nothing new.

"Oh, Merle! Baby, where have you been?" She asked, wiping the tears as she talked. She had a concerned look on her face, one that never failed to make him uncomfortable.

His relationship with his mother had always been a very complicated one. On the one hand, he hated her with all his heart — hated that she had married Will, that she had put him through his fucking horrible childhood and never once interfered when Will was having one of his angry episodes and decided to lash out at him. Every time he looked at her he was reminded of the fact that she had never left; that she should have protected him, but didn't. At the same time, she was the one person in the world that ever looked sincerely concerned for him. She loved him in her own weird way, always buying him a crappy birthday cake for his birthday. A cake he thought tasted awful but ate it regardless, simply 'cause she had gone through the hassle of buying it. She was the person who watched him get hurt without saying anything but was also the one who went to his room and helped him clean his cuts or put his shoulder back in place after it.

"Away, although not as far away as one would hope. Cut the bullshit, what happened?" He went straight to the freezer to grab the ice bag that was always there for that exact purpose.

The question brought a new wave of tears to her eyes. She lowered her eyes and shrunk herself further into the couch.

"I...I...Merle, I..." She was stuttering and gasping for air at the same time.

That made him put the ice bag on the table and look at her again. What the fuck? The stuttering was new; she never did that. In fact, she had just broken protocol. They had a dance they always did in this scenario. She would grab a bottle and the ice bag; they would drink and smoke until Will arrived, ignoring the subject as usual.

"What?" He grabbed her shoulder and gave it a little shake to see if she snapped out of it. "What did he do?"

"I'm so sorry Merle, I truly am. It was an accident; I never planned for it to happen. Please believe me," She said, not making any sense. At all.

"For the love of God, woman! Just say it, you're not making fucking sense." He was starting to become preoccupied.

She looked him straight in the eyes "I'm pregnant."

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

A child. Another child. Another innocent child for Will to destroy.

No.

"Is this a joke?" He whispered, in the most serious tone he had ever used in his life.

She just looked at him sadly "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"SORRY? SORRY? ARE YOU FUCKIN' KIDDIN' ME?" He was furious, outraged. "WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKIN'? HOW COULD YOU? WASN'T RUINING MY LIFE ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

He slammed his hand on the table and started pacing around the room.

"You have to leave; we need to leave. Now. If we do it quickly enough, we can be out of the city before Will returns from the bar." Merle's mind was workin' fast, trying to think where they could go.

All his plans were interrupted by his mother sentence: "I can't. I can't leave your father. He needs us." In a minute, she stopped being the mother that he loved and went back to being the person he would forever resent.

"Needs us? For what? Other than being his punching bag, that's it?" She had to be kidding. "You can't be serious. How can you even think of putting another human being in this God-forsaken hole?"

"Will is this kid's father, Merle. He has a right to be a part of his life, even if his love is somewhat strangely given."

Never in his life had he wanted to punch a woman so much. Never had he been this angry.

"I can't believe this shit. You're insane, fucking insane." Strangely given? Fuck this shit.

And so he stayed. Angry as hell, but he had stayed. In his mind there wasn't another choice, he couldn't just leave his unborn brother behind. Couldn't leave his blood in the hands of Will, alone.

Daryl was born prematurely, two whole months earlier. The doctors said it was because his mother hadn't stopped drinking or smoking, but what he'd later discovered was that his brother simply had no patience to speak of. Daryl was horrible at waiting, and Merle was pretty sure he had just gotten tired of not being born.

He wasn't at home when his mother went into labor — no surprise there. So when Merle got to the hospital, his brother was already there, a small — minuscule — bundle of tears. Daryl was also an angry baby — he didn't like anyone, or almost anyone, because the moment Merle took him in his arms, he stopped crying and looked at him directly in the eyes, seeming curious about who he was. He remembers staring at the baby in his arms and feeling the strongest emotion he had ever felt. As he gave his finger for the baby to grab he swore to himself that he would be everything that kid ever needed. He would protect his brother, no matter what.

But he failed. Failed in the one promise he made in his whole life. He left for the army thinking he would make something of himself, that he would be someone and take Daryl out of the hole they lived. He had raised his brother to be tough, taught him how to survive in a world where everything seemed to converge to kill you. But he couldn't have known his mother would die... burn the whole house down in one of her drunken episodes. He couldn't have known his father would take advantage of the fact that Daryl was grievin' to abuse him in almost every way he could. He should have known.

The first time he saw Daryl's back, he cried. He cried while cursin' himself for his huge failure. He had failed his brother. He tried to apologize, he really did, but every time the words got stuck in the back of his throat. What was he goin' to say? Sorry, I'm such an idiot? Sorry, I didn't protect you? If I could, I would've taken every single one of those beatings for you? They were just words; words that couldn't repair the damage that had been done. So he didn't say anything. Just swore to himself to do better.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

He was sitting alone, smoking peacefully, or as peacefully as one could be these days. Merle was thinking about the mess that had been made by Shane, with the barn and everything. It's not like he was attached to the farm, but it was better than being constantly on the road. Shane just had to fuck it up. He would have to be dealt with. He was obviously out of control, and if Officer Friendly wasn't capable of manning up and do something about it, well, Merle would just have to do it himself.

He heard her before he could see the girl — she just wasn't silent enough. When he looked up, he saw her. Beth. Of course he knew who she was — who in that ridiculous farm didn't know about the girl's failed attempt to off herself? He had to admit her presence was a surprise; she was the last person he would have guessed would disturb his minute of peace. Wasn't she constantly watched by her sister?

"Shouldn't you be cooking, washin' or doin' whatever shit you women do these days?" If she was goin' to disturb him anyway, he might as well get some amusement out of it.

She flushed, outraged. It was funny; she looked like a little cat, angry at bein' poked.

"That's really sexist." Sexist? God, what were they teaching kids these days?

"Sexist? Is that a new word you learned in school, kiddo?" A laugh came out of him. Sexist. That was a new one.

He thought she was going leave after that, but she surprised him.

"Yes, just yesterday. It was such a nice normal day; the lunch was pizza." She spoke sarcastically.

The kid had some spunk in her, he had to admit that surprised him. Pleasantly. Merle could respect someone with a backbone. He wasn't goin' to admit that to her, though.

"Whatever."

"I... I actually wanted to talk to you." Of course. They always want something from him. "I want you to teach me how to fight."

What? His day was just getting weirder and weirder. He burst out laughing. Ha! Teach her how to fight! That was great.

"It isn't a joke!" She was screaming. "I want you to teach me."

"Please, girl; you couldn't hold a knife to save your life. Ask someone else to play with you. I ain't got the time to teach you how to slap a bitch." For fuck's sake, she looked like someone a stronger wind could take away. He didn't have time for this bullshit. He just stood up and started walking away. Merle just wanted some fucking peace.

But God just wasn't through fuckin' with him. She started to call him at an increasing volume. Was she trying to get them both killed?

He slapped her on the back of the head. "Quit with the screamin' girl, are you crazy?"

The look of panicked surprise on her face was so funny it almost made him smile. Almost.

"For the love of God, you scared me," She said as if he hadn't noticed.

"Well, you deserved that and more." After all, she was the one who was making him waste his cigarette time.

"Ouch," She rubbed her head. "Didn't have to hit me, too."

What a fuckin' china doll. "That little slap?" He asked, incredulous. "Don't be such a baby." He had barely touched her.

She was trying to be intimidating, he could tell. Well kiddo, tough luck for you, you look like a poked kitten again.

"Go back to the house, kiddo; your old man is probably thinkin' you died by now." All he could think about was the kitten look. It was amusing; it almost made him want to make her mad just to see the 'wanna be angry' look.

"No! I won't, not until you listen to me." That again?

"Not this shit again. This is ridiculous, go back," Maybe if he left she would get the message.

No, not happening. She just ran after him. Again. His patience was running thin.

"It's not ridiculous. I really want to learn; I want to protect myself and my family. I know I can do it." She was so lucky he didn't hit women.

"Kiddo, there are people takin' care of your ass already. Stop buggin' me, go bother someone else." He pulled the last draw at the cigarette, threw it on the ground and stomp on it. There it went, his last cigarette. Wasted.

"No! I don't want to be protected. And stop calling me kiddo, you know my name, use it." Didn't want to be protected? That was all she knew, for the love of God. He was really annoyed now.

He grabbed her arm forcefully and drew her near. "Look, I don't give a fuck about your name or what you want. I don't have time for this bullshit, so just fuckin' leave. I don't get why you're so willin' to protect yourself anyway, weren't you trying to kill yourself the other day, kiddo?" He looked at the scar there.

She tried to break free, but he just wouldn't let her. She wanted his attention, right? Now she got it. Annoying bitch.

"Let go of me!" She shouted.

"What? You wanted to learn how to fight but can't even take a little grabbin'?" Please, she was just pathetic.

"You know nothing! You Dixons just think you're so superior, fuck that!" She was angry now, he could tell. "I know I've tried to kill myself, believe it or not, I was there. But I decided to live; I want to live. Now that I saw how the world is like I want the chance to survive, is that too much to ask?" Saw the world? Was she fuckin' with him?

"Girl, you haven't seen nothing of the world, wake up." He almost wanted to slap some sense into her.

She pushed her arm again and he tightened his hold. "But I want to be ready; I don't want to be a scared little girl anymore, I'm through with it. I know what you see when you look at me, what you all see, just another dead girl! Well, tough luck, I refuse to be that girl." She had tears gathering in her eyes.

Refused to be? That was too bad for her. She didn't know anything about life, anything about wanting to be different, about refusing to be the same. She was just a kid. He suddenly released her arm. "Kiddo, the world doesn't care about what you refuse or not to be."

What was he doing? Screaming at this girl, grabbing her? Since when did he lose his control so easily? Who was this girl to leave him like that?

His musings had him so damn distracted he only saw the walker when she screamed his name. His name. In the second that it took for him to process the situation and kill the walker, all he could see were her eyes. The exact same shade as Daryl's. Eyes screaming for help. It reminded him of the one time his brother had screamed his name in the same panicked tone. And it stirred something inside him that he hadn't felt in a very long time. A protectiveness so strong it shocked him to the core. He wasn't going to let this girl die.

Faster than even he thought he could do it, he killed the walker. Killed it and stood there, still completely shocked by everything. He was pulled out of his own mind by Beth's cries.

"No, no, no..." He had to help her but didn't know how, so he picked her up, bridal style, to take her to someone who could.

She was crying on his shoulder, and his heart clenched. There was something he could do; he could make sure something like that never happened again. He could make her strong. He had to.

"I'll teach you," He couldn't manage anything more than a whisper.

"Why?" She was whispering, too.

"Just won't let you be another dead girl." He wouldn't. He wouldn't be able to stand to fail twice.

She pushed her head on his shoulder again and whispered back, "Thank you."

How many times had someone thanked him?

AN 2: Liked? Please tell me!