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As they made their way through the forest, Daryl was still stunned by what had happened last night. They had stormed a compound, he had been captured like a dumb kid, he had been surrounded by more people than he'd seen since the world died … and he'd ended up escaping with his brother. His brother Merle, who he'd given up for dead long ago.

But here he was, stump of an arm at all. And they were together again. The Dixon brothers against the world.

What he hadn't reckoned on was Glenn and Michonne both turning on Merle the minute the group arrived at the car where they were waiting.

Glenn nearly launched himself at Merle, which in his condition would have gone badly for him, if Daryl hadn't put himself between the two of them. And Rick put himself in front of Michonne's sword, which she had pointed at Merle, nearly screaming, "He tried to kill me!"

Daryl believed her. Whatever Merle had been doing back at that compound, he'd been Merle—out for himself, always trying to put himself on the winning side. But Merle was blood, no matter what he'd done, and Daryl wasn't going to stand here and let him be attacked.

Merle didn't make it any easier, needling them all with the truth that Andrea was the girlfriend of the psycho who ran the compound. Didn't surprise Daryl any—Andrea had always had a little psycho in her, too.

"Oh, man, pathetic," Merle spat, looking around at the group. "All these guns, and no bullets in them?"

Daryl supposed they looked pretty bad, filthy and disorganized, compared to the fat clean militia of Woodbury, but he wasn't about to let Merle insult his people. "Shut up!" he shouted. As much for his brother's sake as for that of his friends—Merle was about to get himself beat up, or worse.

"Shut up yourself!" Merle was still shooting his mouth off when Rick knocked him neatly in the back of his head with the butt of his gun.

The four of them withdrew, leaving Merle on the ground and Michonne leaning against the car, watching them.

"I tell you right now, Daryl, I'm not having him at the prison," Maggie said.

"He's my brother."

She nodded, understanding, but refused to be moved from her position.

"Look, the Governor's probably on his way to the prison right now. Merle knows how he thinks and we could use the muscle," Daryl argued.

"I'm not having him at the prison."

Glenn chimed in, "He put a gun to our heads. You really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol or Beth?"

"He ain't a rapist."

"Well, his buddy is."

Daryl let that aside. Whatever had happened to Glenn and Maggie, they were going to have to get past it on their own. What the Governor had done wasn't Merle's fault. "They ain't buddies no more. Not after last night."

"There's no way Merle's gonna live there without putting everyone at each other's throats."

Rick was right about that; Merle had always been that way. He loved to stir up trouble. Lots of advantage to be gained that way.

Still, Daryl wasn't about to let them talk him into leaving Merle alone. He pointed at Michonne. "So you're gonna cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?"

Maggie argued for her, of course.

Daryl shook his head. "We don't know who she is. But Merle—Merle's blood."

"No, Merle's your blood," Glenn said. "My blood, my family is standing right here, and waiting for us back at the prison."

Rick looked Daryl in the eye. "And you're part of that family. But he's not. He's not."

Daryl couldn't help thinking about Carol. She was his family. As much as Merle was.

Across the forest, Merle was groaning, getting to his feet. Daryl looked around at the closed-off faces. "Man, y'all don't know!"

There was silence. They were really going to do this. Daryl had the choice to make. His brother, who had never treated him right; or these people who had fought next to him and ate and slept alongside each other, who had made it through that horrible winter together, learning to trust each other, to have each other's backs. Carol, who had shown Daryl a kind of affection and respect he had never known.

But she wasn't blood. None of them were. Daryl had been raised to believe that the ties of blood came first, over everything else. And Merle was his blood. "Fine," he spat at last. "We'll fend for ourselves."

"That's not what I was saying," Glenn protested.

They didn't get it. They might think he could just ditch his brother, abandon him, but he couldn't. "No him, no me."

"Daryl, you don't have to do that," Maggie told him.

"It was always Merle and I before this."

Maggie and Glenn kept arguing, but Daryl looked at Rick, Rick whose face reflected all the loss Daryl was feeling that he refused to admit to.

"What do you want us to tell Carol?" Glenn asked at last.

That stopped him. It was one thing to defy these people, who had tried to force him to turn against his blood, but a message back to a woman who had never been anything but good and decent? But he realized he didn't need to send a message. Carol knew him better than anyone ever had before. She would know why this was his only choice. "She'll understand."

He gave them all one last look, then walked away to join his brother. They followed him, and Rick jogged up to keep pace with him. "There's got to be another way."

Daryl stopped and looked at him, remembering that Rick was the reason Merle had been left behind on that rooftop in the first place. The reason Merle only had one hand left. "Don't ask me to leave him. I already did that once." He reached into the back of the car, grabbing some supplies. He'd earned a share, after all. "Take care of yourself," he told Rick. "Take care of lil ass-kicker. Carl. He's one tough kid."

And he left, joining Merle. The Dixon brothers, together again, like it always should have been.

Or so he told himself.