Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I trusted you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

Flashbacks are in italic.

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

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Chapter One -

Reflection

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Exhausted and hurt would be the biggest understatement that a person could make. Every bone in his body, every muscle, everything in him was screaming in agony from the beating he took at the hands of his former partner-former teammate. Dean had, no damnit, Ambrose had really given it to him. He hadn't held back in the slightest in anything. He hadn't expected anything less from him. But still, that emotion, those words, they had taken him aback greatly.

The anger, he expected. That rage, that burning emotion that no one could fake, that fire that was often a double edged sword to Ambrose. He burned brightly at both ends. Seth knew he couldn't help it; it was who Ambrose was. He did everything with passion, exuberence, energy. Dean Ambrose never did things lightly. Whether that was like...or hate. He put everything into whatever he did; he couldn't help himself. Which is why he knew after what he did, that Ambrose would be on him like a hawk. He knew it.

It still didn't change anything.

It was something that had to be done. The fact that he thought about it since then? What doing that meant? What it meant to do it to Roman and to Dean? Well that was something that couldn't be helped. There was a plan and he knew what it would mean if he failed. And he was more than just determined to not let it happen; he refused to let it happen. So he would take the punishment, the pain to make sure his plan succeeded.

But then the bastard had to look at him that way, had to speak in that tone, speak those words. Despite his aching body, those words were what sliced through him worst of all. It was a reminder of many things in his life that he couldn't have anymore. It didn't matter than Dean didn't know the real truth of why he betrayed them that day; the words still cut deep and they reminded him of their time together. All three of them. Whether traveling on the road together, or eating together, working out, talking about their hopes, their dreams. Speaking with Roman while Dean snored in the next room or laughing at Dean while he did his Dusty Rhodes impersonation. It was the little things that were getting to him, grating on him, making it hard to continue his plan. He should have expected Dean's stubborness and strength of will; he just happened to underestimate Dean Ambrose a little too much and that could lead to problems.

And that made it hard when he was trying his best to save the man.

He felt stuck. He was stuck between a rock, a hard place, and the unrelenting mass of energy and fire known as Dean Ambrose. But he couldn't have told him back then. As much as he wanted help, it wouldn't have worked; Roman was much too obvious in his loyalties. Everyone knew he would always have the back of the men who became his Brothers. No one would accept that his betrayal was real.

And if Dean knew? He'd make a beeline for Triple-H's office before Seth could even finish his sentence, despite that being the worst possible action. Dean couldn't know. It didn't matter, it couldn't matter, that Dean hated him or wanted to see him suffer. After all that Dean had been through in his life, after all he had done for Roman, for Seth, he would not let him fall.

Even if he had to sleep on this bed of nails for a hundred years.

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"You're going to tear a hole in the carpet with your pacing."

"Shut it. You shouldn't even be here. And I'm the one paying for the damn room." Dean sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, looking at the face of his Brother. His only remaining Brother. He finally sits in a chair across from Roman, propping his feet up on the small table near him. "Sorry, Ro. Just...keyed up."

"I know." Roman says. He was still hurting, but he was mending. It would be a lengthy process, but that didn't mean that he would keep a blind eye to what was going on in the company; especially when it came to Dean. And Seth. "I don't blame you. Especially after last night; still can't believe he showed up and interupted you like that."

"Huh?" Dean looks back at him. "Oh, Wyatt? I could care less about that asshole. I mean, I am ticked off that he interupted my match but it ain't nothin' I can't handle. Dealt with him before."

Roman was careful not to mention that back then it had been him, Dean, and Seth taking on the Wyatt Family, not just Dean on his own. It was times like these that made Roman angry that he was hurt. The fact that he couldn't properly stand on his own two feet yet and take care of his Brothers. Because, betrayal or not, Seth was still his Brother. And he planned to get them all together for a talk sooner rather than later.

"Yeah, but with these packages we've been seeing he might have more goons at his disposal. Just try and be careful, alright? Mind you, I know you won't listen to me, but I can at least say I tried."

Dean snorts.

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The Authority, of course, were pleased. Finally the thorn in their side, the pest, known as Dean Ambrose had been taken care of once and for all and would finally move on; with Wyatt nipping at his heels now, they knew that he would be focused on the man who cost him his revenge.

Seth, of course, knew better.

That was the problem (one of many) that the Authority had. They underestimated. They especially underestimated Dean in the ways that truly meant something. But it wasn't something they were ever likely to pick up. To pick up on it meant knowing the in's and outs of Dean Ambrose and Seth could say with damn near certainty that the only people who knew Dean Ambrose on that fundamental level were himself and Roman Reigns. While he was certainly not in Dean's good graces, he still knew him. Knew him better than probably anyone he had ever known and maybe more than he'd ever know anyone else after.

He knew this would be a critical Raw. Both in how he reacted, acted and spoke, as well as how Dean himself reacted. Although he knew Dean very well, that didn't mean he could always figure out what the man would do; the man was the very definition of loose cannon, of wild and impulsive. Although Dean was sure to be pissed off at Bray Wyatt for showing up when he did-and no, he had no idea of it happening, thank you very much-that certainly did not mean that he wouldn't still show up when he and the Authority were out there, or during his later match with Cena.

He sighs, straightening out the lapels of his black jacket. He had but moments to compose himself and put on the arrogant, egotistic smirk that everyone, including Dean, had come to know. After having been in this half state of himself and this persona he had volunteered himself to be, it was getting increasing harder to remember who he truly was; that he wasn't the asshole who came out week after week, did the things he did, said the things he did. There was a difference in egotism and confidence. Before it had been confidence, not egotism. Because it was true; he, Dean, and Roman had been unstoppable. They had been unbeatable. Had been the ultimate team. Had come from drastically different circumstances but yet had still managed to form not just one cohesive whole but a family. When they called themselves Brothers, it hadn't been mere words.

For them, it had been truth.

It was increasingly hard to remember who he truly was; until he would hear Dean's voice, or see his face and then everything, everything, would come rushing back and he would then remember just who and what he actually was. He was Seth Rollins. He had a mission he do, no matter what it took. Even if Roman hated him. Even if Dean hated him. Even if those facts tore at something raw and pulsing in him.

"Hey, Rollins. You ready?" the voice of Kane asks, echoing slightly down the hallway.

"Hey, Rollins. You ready?"

"Yeah, just give me a sec."

"Lookin' for something?" Dean leans casually against the doorway of the hotel room.

"Yeah. A little gray-"

"You mean this?" Dean pulls a hand out of his pocket and dangles a gray band in his hand.

"The hell? Give it back!" He makes a grab for it but misses as Dean, quick as a snake, moves around him and further into the hotel room.

"Nuh uh. Not till you tell me what it's for. I mean, doesn't seem like much." He starts to pull it back between his fingers like a rubber band.

Seth tackles him.

They both fall to the ground with an oof. Seth lets out a breath, as the air gets knocked out of him as he lands atop Dean. He grabs the band, which had fallen somewhere around Dean's head and puts it securely in his pocket.

"Leave my shit alone, Dean."

"It was on the ground. Not like I filched it from your pocket or something."

Seth snorts, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses."

"Well fuck you too, Seth."

"Fuck you first, asshole."

He feels shaking and it takes a moment to realize it's Dean and he's laughing, really laughing. He had never heard it from him before. Not like that. He feels something light flutter in his chest and he feels his breath catching as he realizes he's still laying on Dean. He looks down into Dean's face and finds Dean staring straight at him.

"Hey, you guys ready?"

He jumps at the sound of Roman's voice and quickly moves himself off of Dean. He glances at Roman, but Roman doesn't seem at all fazed by what he just saw.

"Yeah..." He is careful not to look at Dean. "Yeah, I'm ready."

He opens his eyes and sets his shoulders. He glances into the mirror and puts on the smile that he knew Dean, and everyone else, hated.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

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"I can't believe him!"

"Calm down, Steph; he's just frustrated. I'll talk to him. I'll make him see reason. Still," Triple-H continues, looking over at Seth who is holding his sides gingerly. He was already sore enough; Orton RKO-ing him definitely didn't help him at all. "Our boy did good on the mic. Good job, Seth."

Something withered inside him every time Triple-H or someone else in the Authority paid him a compliment. But he was used to it enough now that he could answer "Thanks, Hunter. I really appreciate that. I've learned from the best." without feeling like he'd throw up in his mouth. Mostly.

Hunter gives him a pat on the back and Seth is quick to get away, saying he wanted to get a shower and prep for his match later on in the night. One of the "perks" of being an associate of the Authority (a nice way of saying lackey, really; everyone got what it meant. Well, everyone but Stephanie and Hunter) was the nicest lockers to use for storage and showering. Hell, even Cena didn't this sort of treatment (although Stephanie and Hunter weren't a fan of Cena, Vince was, and Cena got some extra perks that others didn't. To be fair to John, he didn't ask for them; Vince essentially laughingly strong-armed him into taking them.) Still, he thinks as he undresses in the empty locker room and heads into the shower, he'd give up all the perks in a instant if he could just get Dean and Roman to talk to him again. Really, properly talk to him. The fact that all of this mess he had gotten into was of his own doing was not lost on him. Rather it was something he dwelled on often.

Even in places they had never technically been, Roman and Dean haunted his every footstep. Although the locker room he was in was not one that he, Roman, and Dean had ever ventured into, it still had a familiar enough look that it reminded him of the times they shared together in locker rooms. Even if everyone else on the roster hated them, were jealous of them and their talent, they had each other. It had been...

"So I tell the guy "the fuck would I do with half a tuna fish sandwich?" and he gets all pissed off n' shit and-"

"Was this before or after the homeless guy in the park threw bird feed at you?"

"After! Come on, Ro, keep up! Anyway, so he's waving around his badge around and I'm like "I thought you guys had more pressing shit than to harass a guy trying to eat some fucking potato chips in the park." and he starts foaming in the mouth. Really, you guys should have-"

"He did not foam at the mouth, Dean." Seth puts in, shaking his head, doing his best to keep the shit-eating grin off his face that was demanding to come out. People called Dean a lot of things; mad, crazy, insane...well, mostly shit that related to crazy, but potentially-very possibly-crazy or not, the man had a way with grabbing your attention. He had charisma for days; Seth supposed it helped that Dean picked one of the best mediums in which having a good way with words helped you immensely.

"Bite me, Rollins. You tellin' this story or am I? Keep on and I'll show you which of us dogs has the biggest bite."

"I'd like to see you try." Seth challenges, smirking at Dean, leaning back in the steel folding chair.

"If you insis-"

"Enough." Roman's voice was quiet, but firm. Although The Shield technically had no leader, Roman had quickly taken a sort of role to that effect. Not that it bothered Seth, or Dean for that matter. The things he spoke out on were different things, anyway. Ones that some people might not get, but ones that the other two people in the group did. They were all Brothers; they had made a vow awhile before to always have each others backs, to be there for one another, to protect each other. In such a cutthroat world as professional wrestling, the number of people who had your number versus people who actually had your back was drastically different. And in them becoming Brothers, Roman had become the role of Big Brother, not just protector. Roman smiles to let them both know that he wasn't honestly angry. It took a lot to truly make Roman mad, after all. "Get back on with your story?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. So the tuna fish sandwich is starting to stink a hole in my back pocket from the heat outside-"

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He wasn't sure how to feel; on one hand, it was nice not getting the shit kicked out of him by Dean during, before, or after his match against Cena. On the other hand, not having him close at hand, having Dean's laser focus now on Bray Wyatt instead...it didn't sit right with him. They had dealt with the Wyatt's before as a group. The Wyatt's were unpredictable and hard to deal with. They had managed, because that's what they did, but still, it had been tough. And this time Dean would have no back up. No Roman there as Brother, as back-up. No Seth as either, certainly. Dean was tough. He was a tough son of a bitch. He was tough, ruthless, determined, someone who never gave up, unpredictable in many regards, as was Bray Wyatt. They were evenly matched on many regards. But one.

Dean had no one watching his back.

"Goddamnit!" he hisses softly, hitting the wall in front of him, pressing his forehead against it. "Damnit."

"Don't worry about it, Rollins. Best you got out of there while you did; the ring filled up so quickly." Kane's voice says suddenly behind him.

He manages not to jump at the sound but it's a close thing. He moves away from the wall, looking at Kane warily. Kane was an enigma to him; for all the man wore suits and did what the Authority asked, or told, of him, it still felt like looking at a tiger in a cage, biding it's time until it could get free. He didn't know what Kane's situation was, with the Authority or anything else, and it made him wary. The ones you had to worry about most were the ones you couldn't get a read on. He knew the kind of people Hunter and Stephanie were. Knew the kind of person Randy Orton was; Orton had made his displeasure known long ago, so he knew a betrayal would happen sooner or later. But Kane? Kane was unpredictable and pretty much unreadable.

"Right. Sorry." He says. He was starting to get a headache. Great. He rubs at his head. "Gonna grab some food before I get on the road. Tell Hunter for me?"

He hated how he had to tell "Daddy Triple-H" (as some people mocked) so much. Although Hunter trusted him now, he still liked to keep an eye on his "assets". He knew how chafing and restricting it was, so he couldn't blame Orton for getting upset, mad at things that he thought Rollins was getting (which, to be fair, he did get more match opportunities) versus what he was getting. Most of that was not in fact true, but some of it was. He couldn't even be mad at Orton (though he was admittedly a bit irritated from the RKO.)

Kane didn't so much as blink an eye. He merely nods and heads in one direction while Seth heads in another. Some food and fresh air would-hopefully-do him some good. Maybe help him gather his thoughts more.

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He finds the nearest available restaurant-the idea of fast food wasn't too pleasant right now-and quickly parks. It seemed nice enough. He was surprised it was still open, given how late it was. He heads inside, glad he had changed into some more comfortable clothing before he left the arena. Although he was fond of his "Snake Plisskin" wear, as some people had taken to call it, it got sweaty fairly quickly. He gets seated by a waitress and looks over the menu, seeing it but not seeing it; he had too much on his mind. It was hard to concentrate, thinking about the rock and hard place he was stuck between, thinking about Roman and his injury and wishing he could talk to him, to see how he was doing (Roman talked a big game on air, but there would definitely be things he would not say in public, only talking about it to his Brothers. Well, Brother now as Seth had no right to call himself Brother after what he had done) and thinking of Dean and how he longed to say he would be there for Dean; that he could be there for Dean. It was almost all he thought about now.

Eventually he is able to concentrate enough to find something on the menu and gets an order in. He sighs, putting his head back against the head rest of the chair, closing his eyes.

"Oh. It's you." A voice speaks up.

His eyes pop open at the sound, eyes widening as he takes in who is standing in front of his table.

"Why are you-"

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A/N: Hee! Cliffhanger! Felt it a good thing to end it there. I hope people get some enjoyment from this. It's funny because I had absolutely 0% interest in trying a multi-chaptered Wrestling fic; I've seen how hard it is to write in this fandom. Although this fandom has managed some amazing fics, Wrestling is BY FAR the hardest fandom to write in. But I was watching Hell in a Cell 2014 as it was happening and Ambrose and Rollins gave me so many feels (the things Dean was saying, some of the sounds Seth made-not in THAT way, but full of some more emotion than just anger, just everything) that I started writing and this just started coming out lol. I have a whole general idea of things that will happen in this fic. Why Seth betrayed Dean and Roman, how he might try and fix it...you'll see. =P

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice