Just a Disclaimer: I don't own Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, or any other WWE Characters, just the plot. This is purely for entertainment purposes. Please enjoy and have happy Halloween if you celebrate it!
Don't go 'round tonight
Or it's bound to take your life
There's a bad moon on the rise
The lyrics resounded blaringly through Dean's head, a disturbingly appropriate soundtrack for the sudden distress he found himself in.
'Maybe…if I'd heard that for what it really was, a warning…' he thought humorlessly through the blanket of fear and pain covering his system more and more the longer he remained within the jaws of whatever the hell was whipping him around like he was a ragdoll, not a 225 pound man.
Thankfully it was gripping the leg of his jeans and not his flesh.
All at once the snarling thing tossed him through the air and he hit a nearby dumpster, the harsh impact taking the wind out of his lungs and crushing his ribs. He landed on his stomach with a painful thud and through the heat pinpricking the corner of his eyes he got the first clear look of his attacker as it stalked towards his prone body.
That's when Dean was dead certain that if he didn't scratch and claw tooth and nail for his life then it would be taken from him.
. :Ten Minutes Earlier: .
"I thought you quit?"
Dean's gaze traveled up from the spot he'd been intently staring at on the grungy pavement of the alley behind the dive bar he was currently leaning against to the form of the man he rarely got to see in person in nearly twelve months.
The end of his cigarette burned bright in the darkness as he pulled another drag from it and he took the smoke from between his lips.
"I thought so too," he murmured, releasing curls of smoke into the air.
And he had. For the nearly five years since being signed to WWE he had been smoke free. Then Seth injured his knee, leaving for seven months to recover, and shortly after that Bryan (who was barely older than him and Seth) was forced to retire due to his neck.
There were still plenty of friendly faces and talented competitors left in the locker room, but with those two gone there seemed to be a large void in the back and in the ring.
Many nights after both events Dean would wake up in his hotel room, clinging to dreams of a time when the younger man bunked with him when they roomed with Roman when they first broke into the main roster. He'd find himself in his hotel room all but alone and his mind helplessly and horrifically entertaining the thought of Seth's injury forcing him into early retirement as well.
It was more than a little depressing, and as much as he tried to fight off old habits, the craving to light up and let good ol' nicotine calm his nerves became too much. At least he wasn't smoking all that much, maybe a few times a week. Dean saw that as a small victory.
Seth seemed to understand what he was thinking just now. He had a weird, unfathomable way of knowing him better than anyone else, inside and outside the ring.
Leaving the doorframe of the bar and the loud music behind him, Seth came to stand next to Dean, causing the other man to tense unperceptively.
"It's been awhile…since we've hung out like this outside the ring."
Dean took in a shaky breath; thankful that his face was mostly shaded in darkness so that Seth couldn't see him, read him, as another drag from the stuffed cancer stick called out to him.
He knew very well how long it had been since they last enjoyed each other's company that didn't include a wrestling match or exchanging words backstage.
After Seth's scripted betrayal of The Shield, he had been counting up the time since. Counting up every day, every hour, sometimes down to the fucking minute since the last time he grabbed a beer in public with Seth, or warred over whether the three of them listened to SKA or country music while driving in the rental car to the next city, or that dorky, yet infectious laughter when he said or did something funny. At least 709 days since he last shared a room or bed with Seth or woke up with the bronzed man having snuck himself into the embrace of his arms during the night.
Back then it was easy to imagine that Seth felt the same sparks he did whenever they touched, no matter how lightly or for how long. It was easy to imagine that Seth wouldn't flat out reject him if he confessed he feelings. Feelings he'd been bottling for years.
But a confession never came, and storylines changed and changed again, and now Seth was all but out of his grasp and the only time the spark seemed to charge the both of them was when they locked up in the ring.
Perhaps the only spark they had left was in their wrestling chemistry.
Dean schooled his voice so that it didn't crack, "Yeah, it has." He then sucked in nicotine until his lungs burned for air. Exhaling with a teasing chuckle to ease his nervousness, he added, "Ya know we'd be breaking kayfabe if any fans happened to catch us back here together."
"And I couldn't care less," there was a slight laugh to match his own, but for the most part Seth's tone was completely serious.
Something inside Dean stuttered then sputtered to life like an old car engine that had sat still too long, but ran strong once it got started.
"Oh yeah?" he asked, attempting keep up the cocky façade. Instead it came out as a croak, full of hesitancy.
Seth playfully bumped his shoulder with his own (and fuck if he didn't feel that unspeakable spark again), his voice both confident and breathy when said an answering "Yeah," his deep doe eyes sparkling under the street lamp and his lips curving up, making him all the more enticing.
And Seth was so close. When did he get so close?
Dean found himself drawn in like a moth to a flame and he could hardly care if his wings got burned off. It would be worthy sacrifice if he could relieve his shoulders of the dead weight of this unfulfilled confession, even if it is unrequited, before he never got the chance to again.
Flicking his half smoked cigarette away Dean turned more towards Seth just as Bad Moon Rising came on the jukebox inside the bar. For a moment he idly wished for a better song (not that he didn't like that song), one more fitting for the way Seth tipped his head up as he loomed slightly down over the other man.
Just a few hair's breadths more and their lips would press together.
But despite all the encouraging signals on the receiver, Dean wanted to be sure.
"Can borrow your ear for a minute? I've got something I wanna get off my chest."
"Shoot."
Dean took a deep breath and managed to open his mouth before something clamped tightly around his pant leg and with little to no effort he was abruptly dragged to the ground and thrashed around like an oversized chew toy.
The song and the sound of blood rushing through his head were suddenly too loud, nearly drowning out Seth's shouts and curses. He barely registered the heavy growling until he was thrown back into the unforgiving metal of the dumpster, his ribs snapping. Only then did he realize his situation.
An animal, one the likes of which he'd never seen before approached him on stout paws that were surely bigger than Big Show's hands.
It resembled a canine, but only if there existed some hybrid species that grew to be as big as a considerably sized bear. All the more he could see in the sparse lighting and the time granted to him before the beast attacked again were glowing blue eyes and a huge gaping maw filled with razor sharp fangs.
In a blur of great agility Seth had insinuated himself between Dean and their attacker. And all it took was a flick of the thing's massive head and Seth went flying backwards.
"Seth!" his ribs burned in protest as he cried out the other's name.
Ignoring smaller prey in favor of something bigger and much closer, the thing turned its attention back on Dean.
Fighting through the pain burning his nerve endings to a crisp, Dean balled his hand into a fist and as the beast entered striking range, aimed for its eyes and let loose a punch.
The snag of teeth on the sleeve of his leather jacket and the feeling of being dragged quickly over pavement told him that his attacker was much quicker than him in his injured state. One moment his stomach was experiencing the worse case of road rash, the next he was swiftly gliding over grass.
Soon Seth's desperate cries became nothing but echoes in the distance.
He tried to free himself from his jacket; a cry bubbling up from his throat as he worked to pull his arm – the one the beast had a hold of – free of the leather sleeve.
The thing, seeming to sense his intentions with freakish perception, released his arm, and placed a heavy paw upon his chest. It wasted no time in sinking its fangs into the muscle of his shoulder.
A gravelly shriek erupted into the night air, racking his ribs with agony.
Blood spurted from his shoulder and Dean was sure the squishy, grinding sound he heard next to his ear was the thing's teeth scraping down to the bone as it gnawed on his flesh and muscle.
It was now or never.
Thankful that he never cut his nails too short, he jammed the thumb of his free hand deep into one large glowing eye while his other hand landed blow after blow on the long snout.
The thing hissed but refused to relinquish its grip on him.
"Fucker!" Dean growled, pushing with all his might so that his fifth digit met the back of the creature's eye socket.
But he didn't stop there. He continued to push with all the strength in his hand in hopes of breaching the skull. The bone was too thick however, so he settled on biting into whatever he could reach, tearing away and spitting out a bloody chunk.
Finally its jaws let him go, but the heavy weight on his body remained, long sharp claws digging into his already abused chest. He breathed another harsh cry, his hands retreating in their attack to try and pry the paw away instead.
No matter how much his muscles strained, Dean just wasn't strong enough to make the thing budge an inch.
Undeterred by the damage it sustained by his hands, the thing seemed to only become angrier, almost vindictive, as it pinpointed the breaks in his ribs and paid special attention in cracking them further.
Once it was satisfied in its torture, it shifted its weight and clamped onto his shredded shoulder again.
Reduced to a battered, useless, and sobbing heap on the ground, Dean knew he could do nothing but endure the painful remainder of his life. He was just a dead man waiting to expire.
'Dean Ambrose…eaten by a unidentified wild animal.'
Well at least his epitaph wouldn't be boring.
Vaguely through his suffering Dean thought he heard a familiar warrior cry followed by a series of sickening bone crunching thwacks. The beast let out a roar; one louder than a tiger or a bear, and its weight disappeared completely.
That recognizable, aggressive shout sounded again before something heavy seemed to lope away with an unsteady gait.
"Dean!"
Suddenly Seth's breathless face took up the entirety of his view, hands pulling at his clothes and moving carefully over his wounds. By this point Dean felt didn't feel much of anything, except the sensation of being touched, but his pain receptors registered nothing. Perhaps they'd been burned out.
Those hands then cupped his face.
"Dean! Dean! Fuck, say something!"
Dean blinked a few times and tried to bring his brain back up to speed. "I-I…a-am I …d-dead?"
"Fuck Deano…" Though Seth's expression remained anguished, his voice softened with relief, "Thank god."
The hands were traveling over him again, prodding his ribs with more scrutiny. They ached a bit with the added pressure, but the previous throbbing torment had left him.
Then slowly, methodically the man above him touched the wounds of his shoulder, feeling the muscle and bone.
"Does it hurt?" Seth asked in nearly a whisper.
Pinching his brows together, Dean concentrated on Seth's probing fingers. In the end he shook his head, inwardly surprised considering his broken ribs and mangled shoulder.
"J-Just aches."
Once again Seth's hands retraced their path on his battered body. Dean wanted to say that having his hands on him were a nice distraction, but considering the situation he decided against it making that known.
Seth slowly pulled his hands back. He seemed lost.
"What is it?"
"I-Impossible…" Seth murmured, meeting his eyes, "your ribs…t-they should be crushed."
"Thought so too," he repeated his earlier words, ones he said when they were still safely leaning against the brick wall of the dive joint.
"A-And your shoulder…the wound's already…closed. It's…" Seth checked the lacerations for a third time, "how can it already be healing?"
His brows pinched further. "Shit, you serious?"
"Yeah, man."
Something rustled in the woods, causing them both to shift their attention. Not too far away they heard a low, haunting howl and Dean sat up in reflex, hardly phased by his injuries.
The thing was still close, too close for comfort. Maybe it was mounting a second attack.
Seth whispered near his ear, "Think you can get outta here on your own or do I need to carry ya?"
"Sure as hell gonna try," Dean returned lowly.
Seth offered him a hand and he rose stiffly to his feet, silencing the groans that threatened to fly from his lips. Seth picked up what appeared to be a heavy metal pipe and with his other arm around Dean's waist to help brace him upright, they quickly yet cautiously got moved towards the relative safety of a more populated area.
"W-What was that thing?"
"I dunno…maybe a bear…" Seth sounded jittery and every few moments he was looking over his shoulder.
Dean never saw the younger man so afraid that it bordered on paranoia. But then again he couldn't much blame him.
"Bears don't howl," he said as he himself took a backwards glance as they left the area of the park, steering towards the lighted streets of Baltimore.
The further they ambled on, the steadier Dean's stride became. It didn't take long for him to no longer require assistance though he didn't push the other away, instead soaking up the warmth of Seth's body so close to his after so long.
"P-Probably a big dog…"
"That was no fucking dog either."
Seth stayed under the weight of Dean's arm but released his waist to bring out his cell phone. He began thumbing something in.
"What're you doing?"
"Calling an ambulance. That thing could have had rabies."
The idea of being torn away from wrestling now that he felt like he was so close to a WWE World Title reign that he could taste it, and even more important, separation from Seth again caused Dean's heart and stomach to seize. He needed this opportunity and he needed Seth even more.
"No! Wait!" he spoke with alarm, snatching away the phone before the call could be connected.
"What are you doing, Dean?" Seth cried incredulously as he tried to recover his phone.
Holding the device from Seth's reach, blue eyes searched brown with a silent urgency. Seth seemed to realize his train of thought and shook his head.
"No, no, no, no, no, Dean. Don't be stupid. You'll get be champ another day, save your health first, dammit."
"Look at me," Dean shouted nervously and Seth paused in his objections, allowing him to continue, "I'm fine. Fuckin' sore but I'm fine. Please…just…just don't take this away from me. If it comes to it, I'll check myself into the hospital, okay? Let me be the one to decide. Just take me back to the hotel. I'll be fine."
He knew he was rambling, but he needed to make Seth understand and he seemed to be actually listening, considering.
"Maybe you are as crazy as your moniker…" Seth's voice held little heat or accusation despite his words.
"More like desperate," he countered, "Please…let me be the one to handle this."
Seth looked to the side and released a shaky breath. When he looked back at Dean his lower lip trembled and his eyes turned misty.
"I…I-I thought you w-were I was gonna lose you," Dean heard the sniffle in the other's voice. Seth wiped his nose on the back of his hand then wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, bringing him in close. "I t-thought you w-were gonna f-fucking die."
Quietly Dean rested his chin on Seth's shoulder and closed his eyes, returning the embrace with equal intensity and the desire to express the same comfort to the other man that Seth's warmth and scent brought him.
"Shhh…It's okay, Seth. I'm fine," he whispered, rubbing Seth's back soothingly as he felt the smaller body shiver with a small sob, "I'm fine. We're going to be okay."
Dean didn't know how long they stood there clinging to each other like that but he didn't care, nor did he care about the people walking by them on the sidewalk, possibly spying on them and taking secret photos. He didn't care and neither did Seth.
Finally they parted and tracked down Seth's rental and while Seth drove Dean changed out of his torn and bloody clothes into fresh ones from his suitcase they had nabbed from Dean and Roman's rental. Silently, almost telepathically, they agreed to tell no one about anything unless it became a necessity.
Dean felt fine until after they checked into the room at the hotel they managed to book together. He started to feel weak and a bit feverish, but not wanting to worry his friend and blood brother, he said nothing. Once his body hit the bed a deep ache settled into his bones and muscles making him feel incredibly heavy.
Distantly he felt his feet being shifted under the power of another, first his laces were carefully untied and loosened, then his boots were slipped off.
He didn't fight it, nor did he fight as the blankets were pulled from beneath him so they could cover him instead, in fact he helped by lifting his body so he didn't hold the sheets hostage. After he was enveloped by the crisp softness of the comforter he felt a warm body slip underneath with him and arms hold him securely, sparks mildly tickling his flesh wherever their skin made contact.
Dean quickly succumbed to a surprisingly restful sleep.
Besides zombies, werewolves have come to be my favorite monster archetype, and this plot bunny got stuck in my head while visiting my friend in Sweden (Dean just screams scruffy werewolf to me). I started writing the foundation of this fic there, but this fic evolved into an entirely different animal by the time I started typing it. It's nearly finished, so I'll probably update quickly depending on feedback, otherwise I'll try to update once a week.
