NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Thanks so much for the reviews and faves! Really makes me smile when I read them. Happy to report that my cold is finally clearing up, but I've now got congestion in my ears, and I can't work as quickly as I can on Follow Me. I watch the matches on my iPod to get dialogue, color commentary, etc., and my hearing is rather distorted at the moment. Makes it difficult for me to listen and take notes. I know it sounds like a weird excuse, but it's the truth!
CAUTION: I'm a slasher at heart, so this chapter contains some slashiness between Bray and Dean, but nothing explicit or graphic (that's not something I'm particularly good at). It's the muses talking, and sometimes I have no control over what they say or do. Better to just fasten the seatbelts and let them navigate while I steer.
DISCLAIMERS: Please see the previous chapters.
Chapter Three
Neither Bray nor Dean could remember the exact moment when they crossed over from infirm and caretaker to companions, and then lovers, but their attraction grew stronger and stronger as time passed, and before they could realize it, they couldn't get enough of each other.
It was gradual. Bray removed the cot from his bedroom and slept in his own bed for the first time in days. He didn't have the heart to kick Dean out of the bed, so he shared it. Dean didn't complain—in fact, he liked being close to the big man—so Bray took his lack of complaint as implied consent.
Then there were the embraces, the touches that lingered too long to be friendly or fatherly, the ones that sent shivers down Dean's spine and sparks flying through Bray's soul. The kisses that were more than just gentle pecks on the cheek or affectionate kisses on the top of one's head. Then there were the times when they just lay in bed at night and talked, with a clock radio on the nightstand softly playing classic rock songs as background noise.
After spending so much time in close proximity to Bray, Dean decided that he liked his voice. Bray could read the back of a cereal box, and it would leave Dean wanting to hear more. The fact that Bray was quite the gifted storyteller bode well for the Wyatt's patriarch as well. He spun a few yarns about growing up on the farm, a few tales about his life on the road as a long-haul trucker, other stories about Daniel Bryan and his betrayal, and many stories about Abigail.
Dean knew all about Abigail now. She wasn't some mythical religious leader or immortal spirit. She'd been a troubled teen who'd run away from a shelter for at-risk youth and found a family and husband here. Her death had shattered Bray to the point where he'd been nearly non-functional. If Luke and Erick hadn't intervened to pull him out of his depression, Bray would have withered and faded away.
And Dean wouldn't have been fixed physically and emotionally because Bray wouldn't have been around to fix him.
They made plans, he and Bray. Dean wanted to move to the compound. It would make things easier for everyone. After all, he already felt like the compound was his home (that proclamation made Bray's heart skip a beat), so why not make it official? Of course, he had to return to Las Vegas to settle his affairs there, but it wouldn't take long. Dean's lease on his place was month to month, and he had very little in the way of possessions (they only made you a target, he often said), except for his mountain bike, his clothes, and whatever he could fit into a suitcase.
Bray and Dean worked their way closer to each other, and before long, they became intimate.
Dean feared what he was getting himself into, being with Bray like this. What would sex with him be like? Violent? Painful? Would Bray inflict physical damage on him? Create more scars? He hadn't given the existing scars on his body a second thought, until he'd been brought here. Now, he felt unusually self-conscious. Perhaps it was because he was revealing them in a more intimate setting.
Bray could sense Dean's trepidation. "You don't wanna do this?"
"I do, it's just that… I'm surprised that you wanna do this, especially with me."
"What's the hesitation?"
"I thought you were attracted to women."
"Sexuality's fluid. I appreciate both genders," was Bray's simple, honest response. "But that's not all you're concerned about, is it?" Gently, Bray ran his fingers across the marks on Dean's back. Souvenirs from all the barbed wire and light tube matches from CZW. "Your scars. You're self-conscious."
Uncharacteristically, Dean blushed and glanced down at the bedsheets. Bray could read Dean better than Dean could read himself. "Why would you want someone as scarred and fucked up as me?"
Bray could have answered Dean's question with something poetic or matter-of-fact or sappy, but he didn't. He suspected that words would simply fly over Dean's head in this instance. So instead, he ran his big fingers across the scars, and then lowered his head so that he could kiss each one.
A fire began to kindle deep in Dean's belly. His heart began to race. Kisses. Touches. That was the answer Dean understood. Bray thought Dean's scars were to be kissed, touched, and revered. And if his scars merited that type of attention, perhaps the rest of him did as well...
~~~ANGEL~~~
They spent the next three hours becoming intimately acquainted with each other, with music from the classic rock station out of Lafayette providing suitable musical accompaniment. Bray had moved off his new lover three times that night: one, to get a damp washrag; two, to get some water from the icebox; and three, most thoughtfully, to get Dean's vape pen.
Later, Dean was sitting naked on Bray's bed, taking a few puffs off his vape pen, while Bray lay stretched out like a giant cat across from him. His pen was filled with Wild Berry flavored e-juice. It was becoming his favorite, and unknown to him, Bray's favorite. The fragrant vapors mingled with the scent of his and Bray's combined passion in the sultry air. "Whodathunk that I'd actually like the fruit flavors."
"Well, I'd rather have you puff on that instead of a cancer stick. You aren't putting tar and smoke into your lungs, that's for sure." Bray paused. "I like it when I kiss you and you taste like sponge cake and berries."
Dean cocked an eyebrow. "I taste like sponge cake?"
"Yeah." The expression on Bray's face grew nostalgic. "Reminds me of a dessert Aunt Del made me during the summer. It was a sponge cake with fresh berries and whipped cream. When she didn't have fresh berries on hand, she'd cook some berry jam into a syrup and pour that over the cake. Good times."
Dean set his pen back on the nightstand. "It's kinda cool that you compare me to your favorite dessert."
"And... it's sexy to watch you sit here naked as you suck on a pipe."
"It's not a pipe, it's a pen..." Dean's voice trailed off when he suddenly recognized the double entendre. To hear Bray utter such an innuendo was oddly attractive, and it made Dean bust up laughing. "Oh, you're bad!"
A mischievous grin crossed Bray's lips. "Do you really think I'm amen and hallelujah all the time?" He reached up and tugged gently on Dean's forearm. "So… you up for Round Two?"
"You know it," Dean smirked, as he lay down on the bed across from his new lover.
~~~ANGEL~~~
The days passed, and Dean regained his strength and stamina. He found that tree branches made for a good chin-up bar, the front porch worked as a place to do push-ups, and that the perimeter of the Wyatt's property was about four miles.
Dean didn't see Erick much-they were like ships passing in the night after he returned to the house-but they were always pleasant with each other. After all, Dean was now part of the family. And they'd get to know each other soon enough.
He didn't expect Erick to speak to him at breakfast one morning. Anna wasn't in the kitchen, like she usually was. On this particular day, she was at the rice mill where she worked, putting in some extra hours. Bray was sleeping in, so it was just Dean and Erick alone at the kitchen table.
"Bray loves you."
Erick's simple observation snapped Dean to full attention and tore him away from his simple breakfast of fried eggs, toast, orange juice, and coffee. Dean had prepared this himself; he was a decent cook, so long as it was nothing elaborate. His response was as un-elaborate as his breakfast. "I know he does."
"Do you love him?"
"I do." Dean's answer was immediate.
"He's had his heart broken once already. You know about Abigail, right?"
"Yeah. She's buried here, under the strawberries." Dean knew the story now, and he knew to keep the story within the confines of the Wyatt's property.
"Bray broke after she died. It took a long time to get him back. He gets his heart broken again, then he'll never come back. So don't break his heart a second time," Erick warned Dean gently before tucking into his food.
Dean's answer was sincere. "I won't."
~~~ANGEL~~~
That afternoon, Dean would get to meet the rest of the family.
The Pollards returned from their evangelical trip. There was Roselle, the blonde mother hen; her twin girls Violet and Bina; Jimmy, the blonde gentle giant; and his pugilistic younger brother Frankie. They were all full of stories and laughter. Roselle fussed over Dean the way a mother should fuss over a son. It was a new feeling, being loved on and welcomed by a mother figure, but he accepted it as part of his new life.
Jimmy and Frankie liked Dean's vape pen, and Jimmy proudly showed off his own. He gave Dean the name of a store in Lafayette that he bought e-juice from. He even razzed Dean (good-naturedly, of course) about his "new" clothes and asked where he'd seen them before.
Violet tried to flirt with Dean, until he told her, very gently, that he didn't swing that way. The pretty blonde Pollard took the rejection in stride. After all, one didn't fall in love with what was between one's legs, but what was in one's heart and head.
Besides, Bina pointed out, Dean was Bray's angel.
The next day, Anna drove to the airport in Lafayette to pick up Jay and Luke, who were taking a few days off before heading back onto the road. They were greeted warmly, and they were genuinely happy to be home, if only for a few days.
Jay was the second oldest of the Wyatt clan, next to Roselle, but he deferred to the Wyatt patriarch on many things. Bray treated him like a beloved son, and Dean could see the affection that flowed between the two. He saw a similar affection between Jay and Luke, but judging by the looks and touches and kisses they gave each other, it was the affection between lovers, and not parents or siblings. It was the same kind of affection that now existed between Bray and himself.
Dean also saw the slightly haunted look in the blonde Wyatt's eyes and instantly knew that he'd experienced the same ordeal in the garage as he had.
The entire Wyatt clan-eleven in total, including Dean-settled into the dining room in the main house for supper that night. Anna and Roselle made pot roast with baked potato, pumpkin, carrots, zucchini, purple cabbage, yellow squash, and gravy. There was a cherry-mint pie for dessert, and plenty of conversation afterwards.
After dinner was the perfect opportunity for Dean to chase down Jay and talk to him in private. He had to know what the older man went through that bound him to this ragtag family.
But it was Jay who asked the questions first, while Dean got comfortable with his vape pen on the porch.
~~~ANGEL~~~
"Where'd you get the vape pen?"
"Bray got it for me, if you can believe it." Dean brought the pen to his lips, inhaled, and pressed a tiny button on the side to dispense the vapor. He held the cloud in for a moment, and then parted his lips to let the vapor escape in a steady, fragrant stream. "Bray doesn't like me smoking actual cigarettes, so I'm using the pen. I never thought that I'd actually like the fruit flavor e-juice."
Jay paused. "Bray locked you in the garage, didn't he?"
Dean took another pull off the vape pen. "How can you tell?"
"You have the same look in your eyes as I do."
Dean found himself defending the Wyatt's paterfamilias. "I went after Anna. Threw an empty plate at her my first night here. She'd have been hurt if Erick didn't intervene. You know how Bray feels about her. She's Abigail's sister, for crying out loud. I think he was trying to protect her. And I'm dangerous when I feel like I'm backed into a corner."
"Still, he could have found another way."
Dean took another pull and leaned against the porch railing, while Jay got himself comfortable in a wicker chair. "I think I left Bray with no other option. Don't be angry with him."
"I'm not so much angry with him as I am disappointed. I thought he wasn't gonna use that place again. Just seems like a shortcut," Jay sighed. When Dean said nothing, he asked, "So… what's your story?"
Dean cocked his head, puzzled. "Story?"
"What did he do to you in there?"
"He chained me up, made me listen to his sermons. He and Erick hit me if I mouthed off. I caught a chest cold, and that's what made Bray stop. He brought me to the house, cleaned me up, nursed me back to health, and here I am."
"Did Bray make you crawl to him on your hands and knees while chains dangled from your ankles and wrists? Did Erick wrap chains around your neck and nearly strangle you? Did you have a bucket you had to use for a latrine?"
Dean nodded, in stunned silence. Jay continued. "I can tell you a lot of horror stories about that godawful place. Many of them could send Bray to prison. But that's the last thing I want. Because this is my home. This is my family. And judging from how close you're listening, not to mention how close you and Bray seem to be, this is your family now as well."
Dean found himself agreeing with the older blonde. "Being here, it's… changed me for the better. My dad abandoned me before I was even born, my mom was a junkie whore, I lived on the streets, even peddled my ass on a street corner for money… none of that will change, but I can't let that all be an excuse. Seth, Roman, all of them… they used me, yeah. But I can't keep blaming myself for what they did. If Bray hadn't fixed me, I'd be dragging myself to Hell and taking others along with me. Doesn't matter if I'm related or not, this is my family."
"Sometimes, blood ties do not a family make. Regardless of what anyone else wants to say, yeah?" Jay agreed. "Bray did whatever it took to fix me. And you as well."
Dean took another hit off of his pen. "Are you happy?"
Without hesitation, Jay said, "I am. You probably heard the story by now. If not on RAW or on Smackdown, then backstage, second or third hand from someone. I was gonna jump to my death from my hotel room window, and the boys stopped me. Bray saw something in me that he wanted to save. He broke me, and he helped fix me. If he hadn't, I'd be dragging myself to Hell, if I wasn't there already. Now, I'm teaching Bible study and helping train the new kids at the Performance Center part time. Luke and I are closer than ever, and we've even been talking marriage. It sounds kinda corny, but I have Bray to thank for that."
Jay let his piercing blue gaze fall on the newest Wyatt. "Y'know, if Bray's willing to take you to the absolute limit of what you can endure, and then shove you past it in order to fix you, wouldn't you give him your loyalty?"
Dean found himself nodding. He and Jay were brothers in suffering. Each of them with their own damage, with Bray as the common denominator, and restoration as the result. "Maybe we should pay that garage a visit. Face down a few ghosts. Afterwards, maybe we can convince Bray to tear it down."
~~~ANGEL~~~
They visited the garage in the morning while everyone else was asleep, the weathered, rickety-looking building that had been an original part of the property. So much of the paint had peeled off that what was left was bare wood, grayed and decaying. The white metal door was weathered and beaten as well. The farming implements housed inside were in decent repair, and each told a silent and ominous tale. The atmosphere smelled of blood and sweat and tears and other things that Dean and Jay didn't care to identify.
"You can smell the fear and despair in here," Jay said. His voice sounded calm as he pointed things out, but Dean could sense his anxiety. "That's the hoist. Bray hung me from it and gave me thirty lashes for my disrespect and selfishness. I called him a fucking psycho one time too many."
Dean couldn't stop the chill that raced down his back as Jay continued his narrative.
"I begged him not to whip me, told him I'd be good, but he knew that I'd only pretend for a while, and then I'd run off and kill myself. Bray broke down every defense and excuse I had while I was chained up in this building. At my darkest and my lowest, I realized that I didn't wanna die. I wanted someone to save me."
"So did I," admitted Dean. "I hid it a lot better than most. Under the crazy persona. Bray called me a sheep provoking the wolves. I had a head full of rage, and no outlet." He paused, and then smirked. "Of course, I won't provoke the wolves as much, but I'll still keep the crazy."
Jay chuckled. "I don't think anyone could imagine you without your crazy." He paused, and then pointed to the floor. "There's the eyebolt. That's where the chains were connected. We should take that bolt out and keep it somewhere as a reminder of how far we've come."
Dean found himself nodding. "Yeah. I think we should..."
~~~ANGEL~~~
Bray was awake and sipping a mug of coffee when Jay and Dean returned to the house. "You went to the garage, didn't you?" His voice wasn't accusing or threatening, just curious.
Dean was the first to answer. "How can you tell?"
"Well, the only time you or Jay would be up this early would be either to work out, or to visit the garage, when nobody else would see you. And neither of you look like you've gone to work out."
"We want that garage torn down." Jay's voice was quiet and to-the-point. "I thought you wouldn't use it again."
Bray glanced down at his coffee, like he was trying to find the secret of life in the bottom of his mug. Then, he sighed and set the mug aside. "I wasn't. But I was weak. And you're absolutely right. I should tear it down. No. I take that back, I need to tear it down. It's too much of a temptation to break someone down in there. It's an excuse for me to not search myself and figure out why I feel the need to resort to violence to fix someone. I'd planned to tear it down when Daniel joined us for those two weeks, but after his betrayal, I… I just couldn't."
Jay pulled up a chair and sat next to the Wyatt's patriarch. Quietly, he reached across the table to take Bray's hand. It would have been understandable if Jay decided to castigate the Wyatt's paterfamilias for his weakness, but Jay sensed that the last thing Bray needed now was condemnation. "Maybe it's because you felt like you failed with him deep down," he suggested, quietly. "So you kept the garage up because you knew it worked, albeit brutally. It's your safety net."
He paused, thoughtfully. "Daniel's betrayal stung all of us. But we moved past it. And look what happened afterwards. We knocked Daniel out of commission, and deservedly so. We exposed Cena as the world's biggest fraud, while gaining the support of most of the roster. Cena's been out of the title picture for months, and rumor has it that Daniel's out at least till the end of the year. I had one more great run as US champ before I retired, and Erick and Luke were tag-team champs for most of the summer. And we did all of that without having to be violent outside the ring."
"You don't have to beat the fuck out of someone to save them," Dean added, as he poured himself a cup of coffee and added some evaporated milk out of the icebox. He joined Bray at the table, sitting next to Jay. "Maybe it's time to let that betrayal go."
Bray closed his eyes, and the three of them sat without speaking for a few moments, the steady tick-tock of the Kit-Kat clock on the wall providing the only sound. Dean sipped at his coffee, and Jay ran his thumb across the back of Bray's hand in a comforting gesture.
When Bray opened his eyes again, there was a reflective look. A peaceful look. A resolute look.
"I see the Lord at work in both of you," he said. "I hear it in the words the two of you just spoke. I can tell that you've both drawn closer to Him. You've both learned so much. And you, Dean, you've come further than I'd expected you to. Last thing I expected was both you and Jay giving me the nudge to do what I need to."
He sat up in his chair and folded his arms across his massive chest. " We need to uhm…. move the farming implements to the barn. Frankie got that cleaned out for me before he and the others went on their trip, so there's plenty of space. Then I'll need to call some professionals and have the place torn down properly."
"You have a phone book around?" Dean asked. "We can make a few calls, make things a little easier for you."
Bray shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I need to do this myself. In fact, I should have done this months ago."
"Well, when you do that, there's a couple things we want," Jay ventured. "We want the eyebolt, so Dean and I can look at it and remember how far we've come. And two, when you tear the building down, save the wood. I'd like to make a bonfire out of it, if that's alright."
"I don't see any reason not to." A grin perked up Bray's face. A bonfire sounded nice, especially this time of year.
~~~ANGEL~~~
That was three days ago. The farming implements were now stowed in their new home in the barn. The eyebolt was in a shoebox in Bray's (now Bray and Dean's) bedroom. Dean or Jay could take it out and look at it and remember everything it stood for. Pain. Suffering. Fear. Hopelessness. Despair. Truth. Hope. Rebirth. Healing. Growth. Family. Love.
Dean put away his vape pen and inhaled deeply through his nose. He could detect the sweet remnants of last night's bonfire on the breeze. He, Bray and the rest of his new family had roasted hot dogs and marshmallows and made s'mores over the flames and told stories until the fire died down.
True to his word, Bray used the wood from the garage as fuel for the bonfire. The garage had been useful one last time.
Dean got up from his spot on the porch and opened the front door. "Hey!" he shouted. "You waiting for Christmas to hit you? Let's go!"
~~~ANGEL~~~
Soon, luggage was set in the back of Anna's truck. Jay and Luke sat up front, while Bray and Dean sat in the backseat. Anna was driving the boys to the airport, promising them that they'd get to their destination three hours before their flight.
As the truck rumbled down the driveway and onto the main road into Crowley (and eventually, Lafayette), Dean glanced over his shoulder at the Wyatt compound one last time. He'd arrived here against his will, a lost, lone wolf with a broken family and a broken spirit, hidden by a head full of rage. He was leaving here healed, a happy lamb in a loving flock, with a family, and someone who loved him despite how scarred and fucked up he was.
If you stripped this story down to its bare bones, Dean Ambrose was reborn and healed in a cold, dark garage in the Louisiana backwoods because Seth Rollins had chosen to sleaze his way up the FCW/WWE ranks, and because Dean had paused for a moment to find a cigarette on the way to his car.
Dean grinned before settling back in his seat and laying his head on Bray's shoulder. He was glad he needed a cigarette that night.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: And we're DONE! *Does happy dance because the story's done, and because my hearing is starting to clear up thanks to antibiotics*. Hope you liked this interpretation of Wybrose. So many stories have Dean being tortured, or Bray being a sadistic monster. I hope I gave my Bray some humanity and compassion. Thanks again to HarlemMarx and her story Dismantle, Repair, which gave me the inspiration and motivation to write this. Thanks for letting me use your ideas and concepts. I really hope I did them justice!
Anyway, this story was also a sort-of songfic based on the song Cigarette by Splender. I wrote this using the 5/4/3/2/1 Song Challenge (Thanks, Willow Edmond). It works like this:
1. Go to your history on Youtube and pick the 5th song you listened to (a SONG, not a video with the song in it. In my case, the 5th song was Spaceboy by Splender.
2. Click on the link and in the Recommendations, go up until you reach the 4th song that's recommended. If the recommendation is an entire album, then chose the 2nd song off the album. I was lucky and got a song from the same artist. The 4th song was Cigarette.
3. Use any 3 lines in the song. Here's the clincher. You can't write them out like "So-and-so turned on the radio and heard these lyrics," or, "The song playing reminded So-and-so of …" That's cheating. You have to incorporate the lyrics in such a way that it flows with the story, and that the reader won't realize that the lines came from a song. If you use more than three lines, more power to you!
4. If the recommendation is an entire album, you have to use the 2nd verse from the 2nd song.
5. The title of your story has to be the title of the song.
Well, I kinda cheated on Rule #5. Angel With A Broken Wing was a better title for this story. But the working title was Cigarette. Hope you guys will let that slide. Anyway, the lyrics I used for this story were as follows:
1. I can't take all the pressure. Gotta find some way to cope with this,
2. But I'm different from the rest somehow.
3. Blind to the wind, the news and the culture.
Well, since I've been on a Wyatt kick for the past several months, I knew I had to use Bray. And he and Dean have a twisted chemistry that works very well together. So, after talking to HarlemMarx and getting permission, banging out the outline, and incorporating the song lyrics, this was the result. I hope you all enjoyed it!
AND REMEMBER… REVIEWS = LOVE!