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Against everyone's better judgment, they agreed on a meeting with the Governor. Daryl paced the perimeter while Rick talked to the guy, making sure there weren't any surprises, and Hershel waited in the car, prepared for a quick getaway if they needed one.

A truck pulled up, and Andrea was one of the three people who got out of it. Daryl growled at her. The Governor had been waiting inside for Rick, which hadn't been the plan. She either pretended not to know, or—based on the look one of the men gave her—had been kept out of the loop. Frustrated, she marched inside. Well, that would be great.

To no one's surprise but hers, Andrea got booted out of the big confab pretty quick. She sat down, refusing to talk to or look at any of them.

Nothing much happened for a damn long time, while Rick and the Governor talked and everyone else waited. They came out together, silent, and everyone returned to their bases. Rick waited until he had everyone together before he told them what the Governor wanted: the prison. The end of all of them.

"We're going to war," Rick said.

Daryl met his brother's eyes across the room. Merle liked war. He liked killing, and chaos. But he also had been part of the Governor's people for a long time. Could they trust him? Daryl wished to God he knew.

Later, Rick told Daryl and Hershel that, in order to avoid a war, he had decided to make a deal with the devil—trade Michonne for the prison's safety.

Daryl knew Rick was looking to him for support, but … he couldn't. "It just ain't us, man." Michonne was tough; she was an asset. And they didn't give up people in trade for their lives. Not to mention that Daryl didn't trust the Governor to be straight with them, not for a minute. First Michonne, and then what would he want? Carl and the baby, to raise them up in Woodbury? Glenn and Maggie, to finish what he'd started with them? Daryl and Merle, to finish the arena fight with Walkers?

Hershel didn't like it either, and he went off on his crutches.

"We do this, we avoid a fight. No one else dies."

For all this objections, Daryl hadn't been there, at the meeting. Rick had. If Rick believed this was the way, Daryl would back him. They'd gotten this far by trusting Rick's instincts. No sense stopping now.

While Rick was talking to Merle, getting his help with the plan, the rest of them worked on fortifying the outer yard.

"They try to drive up to the gate again, maybe some blown tires will stop them," Glenn explained to Rick.

"That's a good idea."

"It was Michonne's." Daryl looked at Rick, who looked at Michonne.

"We don't have to win. We just have to make their getting at us more trouble than it's worth."

Rick was clearly feeling guilty. She was smart, she was strong, she was hell with that katana of hers. They needed her. She was worth more than a bargaining chip.

Carol had stayed in with the baby when the rest went out to work on the fortifications. With the baby, and with Merle, who apparently was above such things.

"Ain't no way," he muttered, watching the others out the window.

"What?"

"Nothing. We got any whiskey? Hell, I'd even drink vodka."

She frowned at him. Like there was any time in this world to waste in an alcoholic haze. "Go to hell, Merle."

He laughed at her, starting down the stairs.

"Are you with us?"

"Sure."

"I'm not talking about occupying the same space." She turned to look at him. "Are you with us?"

"I'm here for my brother."

"Well, he's here for us. It's not time to do shots. It's time to pick a damn side."

He laughed again. "You ain't like you was back in the camp. A little mouse running around, scared of her own shadow."

"It wasn't my shadow, it was my husband's."

"Well, you don't seem scared of nothing anymore."

She was scared of things, of course she was—death and maiming and losing more people she cared about—but she had already survived the unsurvivable. Anything else might hurt, but it couldn't hurt that much. "I'm not."

"Hmm. You're a late bloomer."

Carol got to her feet, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Maybe you are, too."

Merle didn't say anything to that, and she picked up the baby and left him there.

Without thinking, Daryl asked Glenn if he knew where Merle was. The look Glenn gave him was one he wouldn't have been capable of a few months ago.

Daryl gave him a hand fixing the gates. "He say he was sorry yet?" Glenn didn't answer. "'Cause he is." Still silent, Glenn grabbed a box of supplies and walked off. "He's going to make it right. I'm gonna make him. There's gotta be a way." Still no response, and Daryl tried again. "Just needs to be a little … forgiveness, is all."

Glenn looked him in the eye. "He tied me to a chair, beat me, and threw a Walker in the room. Maybe I could call it even. But he—he took Maggie to a man who terrorized her, humiliated her. I care more about her than I care about me."

He had no answer to that. His brother was a bastard, always had been. He liked using his power over people. It didn't surprise Daryl that he would have enjoyed tormenting Glenn. But … Merle was his blood. And there was good in him. And if they didn't accept him now, didn't … try, then they'd lose him for good. Daryl had lost his brother once; he didn't want to do it again.

He found his brother in the generator room. "You talk to Rick yet?"

"Yeah, oh yeah. I'm in. But, uh, he ain't got the stomach for it. He's gonna buckle. You know that, right?"

"Yeah." Daryl wanted to buckle, too, truth be told. "If he does, he does."

"You want him to?"

"Whatever he says goes." He'd rather admit to being a follower than admit to being soft. That was the Dixon in him.

"Do you even possess a pair of balls, little brother? Are they even attached? I mean, if they are, do they belong to you? You used to call people like that sheep. What happened to you?"

"What happened with you and Glenn, and Maggie?"

"I've done worse. You need to grow up. Things are different now. Your people look at me like I'm the devil grabbin' up those lovebirds like that, huh? Now y'all want to do the same damn thing I did—snatch someone up and deliver them to the Governor, just like me. Yeah. People do what they gotta do or they die."

"Can't do things without people anymore, man."

Merle laughed. "Maybe these people need somebody like me around, huh? Do their dirty work. The bad guy. Yeah, maybe that's how it is now, huh? How does that hit you?"

Daryl took a step toward him, grasping his arm. "I just want my brother back."

Snatching his arm away, Merle looked at him, uncomfortable as always with anything like emotion. "Get out of here, man."

So Daryl got, wishing he thought he'd gotten through to his brother, but pretty sure he hadn't.

It was a relief when Rick told them he wasn't going to do it, that in taking this deal they lost something even worse than a member of their team, which was bad enough. They lost the last of their humanity, and without that, what were they saving?

But then Michonne disappeared. And so did Merle. And Daryl knew what his brother had done. Only what any Dixon would do. Use the situation to his advantage.