He cuts a lonely figure on the bench in the corner of the locker room. Eyes closed, head bopping backwards and forwards to a tune noone else can hear. Enjoying the calm before the storm. Just breathing in and out, and in and...
"Are you listening to us?"
He opens his eyes and stares straight through them.
"Did you take in a single word we said?"
He isn't listening. He doesn't have to. Lately they've been saying the same thing to him each and every single week. The same thing before each and every single match. Stay focused. Stick to the plan. Don't go bat shit crazy. They've been on the road together for eighteen months, they love each other like brothers, but they still don't get him. He accepts their eccentricities, their little quirks but they do nothing to accommodate his. They talk too much for his liking. Always going on about strategies, and fighting smart. He doesn't like to fight smart. He likes to fight angry. He doesn't like to plan, he likes to improvise. He doesn't like to think, he likes to do. Sometimes that would bite him in the ass, but usually it stood him in good stead.
They're staring straight at him, waiting for him to respond. He looks up at each of them in turn and then smiles slapping his hands on his thighs as he stands up. "Eyes on the prize boys. Eyes on the prize." A little too enthusiastic maybe, but it seems to be what they want to hear.
Seth lets out an audible sigh of relief. Roman remains as ever unreadable. Untrusting?
"Let's go do what we do best." Dean holds his fist out and after a slight hesitation the other two join in. Roman finally speaks. "Let's go hunt some Wyatts."
They lose.
6 months later.
Sweet exhaustion.
He's breathless.
He looks into her eyes and he's still captivated, after all this time. She lets out a huge sigh and then she grins. Her face is like Christmas Eve. Full of promise, anticipation, and joy. He reaches out to stroke her cheek and she kisses his hand.
She always smiling, gloriously serene - "We should take a shower. You'll miss your flight." - and annoyingly practical.
"You should come with me. Road trip."
"I'll drive you to the airport, and I'll pick you up when you get back."
He pulls her back into his arms, and holds her tightly. "It's just a house show. I could call in sick. We could both call in sick. Just stay here for the whole weekend. In this bed. In each other's arms until we rot."
"That's... some beautiful imagery, and strangely tempting, but we both know you'd rather die than miss a show, and I have so much work to be catching up with already." She kisses him on the cheek. "Come on. Let's go."
Dallas Texas.
Inside of the ring the match had disintegrated into chaos.
Seth and Roman had had things under control before Kane arrived and the blood had started to spill. Dean had been knocked to the floor as the former "Big Red Monster" had charged into the ring.
They'd forgotten about him.
Kane, Randy Orton, and Batista had taken pleasure in out numbering his friends and then beating them into submission. He comes to his senses just in time to see Kane hold a chair above his fallen comrades prone bodies and then something snaps. Forgetting about his own safety, forgetting about his own bruised and aching body he runs straight into the ring and snatches the chair out of the deputy chiefs hands. He swings wildly, initially sending Kane to the floor and then taking the other two out almost by accident. Roman and Seth struggle to their feet as Dean holds the chair above Kane's head, poised to bring it down.
And then he lets the chair fall out of his hands. He doesn't want to kill the man.
One act of mercy.
The three "brothers" hold out their fists in a show of unity before Dean, mentally drained, falls to his knees and rolls out of the ring.
As a unit they walk back along the entrance ramp and into gorilla.
And then whistling.
"I never thought I'd see the day." Bray Wyatt's waiting flanked by Rowan and Harper. His words take Ambrose by surprise. "Are you talking to me?"
"The street dog has been neutered. Where are your teeth hound?" He chuckles to himself.
Seth put a hand on his stable-mate's shoulder. "Don't listen to him."
"It's fine. I'm fine."
Bray continues "At one point I thought you might become part of our family. You disappoint me Dean. Mercy is weakness. You show weakness, like a lamb."
For a second Dean is about to lose his temper, then he shakes himself off, and he smiles, and he scoffs. "I already have a family. Me and my boys, we'll be just fine."
He barges his way past Bray and heads to the showers. Roman smiles at Bray "Believe that." before following suit.
Unperturbed... "You keep telling yourself that street dog. But I know you, I know your core. And you won't be able to hide it from me for much longer. When they see it they will turn on you and you will beg for my warm, judgement free embrace." He shouts the final words, making sure that they are heard, "I will make you the monster you were born to be Ambrose."
And that was the start of a shitty weekend.
Night after night The Authority made it their business to interfere in The Shield's business. Every night The Shield were put into a match against whichever team were willing to face them in exchange for favours. At the end of every match, once The Shield were worn down they were attacked.
The Smackdown taping is the worst.
His US championship. The only thing that separates him from the other boys. He's always thought of himself as a decent wrestler, but he isn't as flashy as Seth and he doesn't have Roman's power moves.
He does have gold.
He's been made to put his championship on the line. One on one vs. Ryback. He's been made to go to the ring alone, after it was pointed out by Kane that most of his title defences have ended in disqualification.
The Shield played by the rules. He was fairly sure he was going to take a beating but he was also sure that he could beat Ryback. He's smarter than Ryback.
One on one, he'd have been fine but then Curtis Axel joined the fray. The bell rang for a disqualification but the beating continued.
He looks up into the crowd hoping for salvation. For a second he smiles. Roman and Seth, regular like clockwork. Even with Axel's boot forcing his face into the mat there's a glimmer of hope. Then two more figures appear behind his friends. Batista, and Randy Orton. He struggles to break free but feels an extra tonne of weight on his back.
Seth is thrown down the steps. Top to bottom. He feels every single bump but for some reason he's still hopeful. He waits for his friend to pop up from behind the barricade. Seth always lands on his feet. No movement. Back in the crowd Roman Reigns is putting up a fight, but it's futile. He's up against two former world champions. They combine their efforts and lift Roman up for a double powerbomb. Dean closes his eyes, not wanting to see the consequences. When he opens them again he see's Randy and Batista standing over his friend. Fists stretched out and touching. The new symbol of excellence.
He's about to lose consciousness when "The Games" music hits. He's pulled to his feet just in time to see Triple H arrive at the top of the ramp. He raises the microphone to his lips. "This match restarts now!" Dean makes eye contact with the referee. He sees pity. Sympathy. That's new.
Triple H's voice rings out across the stadium. "Seriously Matt. If you value your job. If you want to pay the bills this month and put your kids through college then you'll get them to ring that bell, and you'll make the three count."
He's dropped down onto the floor, but still he feels calm. It isn't possible for them to inflict more pain.
The ringing of the bell burns his ears.
Back in Vegas
She pulls up at the airport twenty minutes late. He's waiting outside, pacing. She hasn't seen him like this for months. He tosses his cigarette onto the floor and strides across to the car.
He looks angry.
For just a second she considers slamming her foot onto the accelerator and driving off. The she sees his face. He swings the car door open and falls down heavily onto the seat next to her. His lip is swollen. His left eye bruised, and just above it five ugly stitches.
"Jesus Christ. What happened?"
"It's fine. They took care of it."
He sounds angry.
"Shit, it looks terrible. What did you do?"
"What did I do? They attacked me."
"I meant afterwards. What did you do after they did this?" The question is met by silence. She smiles at him. "We don't need to talk about it." She switches the radio on and they drive away.
The journey back to Dean's place is largely conversation free. It was only when they're around five minutes away that he break the silence. "I'm sorry. I'm just in a pissy mood."
"It's fine."
"You don't have to stay. I'm not sure how much company I'm going to be."
"So I'm kind of like a taxi now? Do you want me to stay?"
"I wouldn't mind."
"Then I will. We don't have to go out. You take a bath, I'll get some food. We can watch a DVD, or you know, whatever."
"I think I prefer whatever." For the first time since she met him at the airport he smiles.
The bath helps. It doesn't just physically ease the pain but as promised she's left him alone to shop for food to fill his empty bachelor-lifestyle cupboards. He's had twenty minutes of silence. Time to capture his thoughts and steal the bad ones away. Lock them up so they don't ruin a sweet deal. He feels more relaxed and ready to enjoy two days of pleasantness before he returns to his brutal world.
Her mobile's ringing, she must have left it on the side. He does his best to ignore it but every time it rings out within seconds it starts up again. An annoying song from the charts. Finally he gives in. climbs out of the bath, wraps a towel around his waist, stumbles into the front room and answers it.
"Sam left her phone here..."
"How much do you want them to pay?" He instantly recognises Bray's voice.
"How did you get this number?"
"The world is my playground. I was surprised to discover your secret life. So mundane, so suburban. How do you see your future Dean? White picket fences, mowing the lawn on a Saturday, date nights? I don't see any of that for you. You were born to be better than that. You were born the bringer of war, a beautiful specimen and I will not see that ruined."
"Is there a point to this?"
"Of course I see the allure. I can see why she would turn your head. Her hair, her body, her smile, her scent. You know she smells like ice cream and cigarettes. I take it that's you."
Blind panic. Dean paces the room. "I swear you better not touch her."
The door to his flat swings open. Samantha falls through, pulled down towards the floor by the weight of three bags of groceries. Her hair's windswept, her face as always pale, but she's smiling.
"Oh thank God"
"How much do you want them to pay?" are the last words he hears from Bray before the phone falls out of his hand and smashes on the floor.
"You need to change your number."