When Ma first told him that he would have a new little brother, Merle was sickly pleased.

At 11 years old, his first thought was that maybe now his Pa would forget about him. A little brother would mean that Merle would be left alone, and Pa could use his big, angry fists on the other boy instead. Maybe, for once, Merle would have a chance to heal before new marks took their place on his body.

Merle could just imagine all the things he could do without his old man always there, ready to snap. Maybe he could finally get food from the cupboard without making Pa angry at him; with a little brother to blame why would he go after Merle? A full night sleep would also be pretty good, Merle thought. No need to worry that the old man would come stumbling in sometime during the night and use his drinking as an excuse to let fists and feet fly freely. Now the other boy could take the heat. And maybe, without all the beatings, Merle could go to school for a whole week, instead of always missing days because Ma just wanted people to stop asking about the bruises that littered her sons face and arms.

As Merle watched his Ma grow though, he wondered how whatever little thing was in there was going to cope with the world out here. Maybe they could share their punishments? Take it in turns? Merle had felt the thing in his Ma's tummy kick his hand and he thought that it was a good sign.

Good, his little brother was a fighter. He'd need to be. Maybe they could fight Pa together?

Merle had grand illusions of himself and a miniature version of him standing side by side, fists raised, stances ready, facing a cowering Pa. Nothing could get to the Dixon brothers if they had each other's backs. That was surely a fact. Two against one were pretty good odds in Merles books. Pa would leave them alone, for sure. Maybe he'd even be so scared of the Dixon boys that he would run away and never come back.

Merle liked that idea. He couldn't wait for Mini Merle to be born.

Merle still remembered the night his little brother was born. He remembered a lot of screaming and crying from his Ma, and, for a second, he thought his little brother was beating up the wrong person. His Ma was fine, it was Pa who they were meant to be going after. He wanted to storm in there and tell the little boy off.

He'd been too scared though; what if it was Pa that was making Ma cry like that?

It wasn't til the next morning that Merle had met a tiny baby with a scruff of blonde hair and the deepest, bluest eyes he'd ever seen. At first he didn't understand why they were showing him a squishy, fragile looking little alien. Where was the little brother that he'd heard was delivered last night? Where was the Mini Merle who was going to stand with him? The one he'd imagined?

When his Ma finally whispered the words, "His name is Daryl, you look after him, you hear? Be a good big brother," Merle finally understood what was going on. This was his little brother.

Initially Merle was a little disappointed. How was this breakable, cooing thing going to fight at his side. The baby didn't even look like it raise so much as a scowl, let alone scare their Pa off.

But then, the tiny, warm bundle was placed in his arms and, for the first time, Merle realised exactly what it meant to have a little brother.

Screw his Pa and his rants about not being a pussy. Nothing would ever harm this little, gurgling package, which was already waving his tiny fists about. Merle was a big brother now. He'd punch out anyone who even tried to get near Daryl. His Pa would have to go through Merle to get to his little brother. Merle would be 12 soon, and 12 was a lot bigger than 11. No way could his Pa get past him then. Merle would protect this thing with his life. And that was a promise.

Decades into the future Merle knew he could never forgive himself for not keeping that promise.