Summary: Tie in with Disturbing.

Roman sat on the bed in the hotel room he was sharing with Dean with his IPAD in front of him. But he wasn't paying any attention to the device. His mind was on other things. Had been ever since the other day. It wasn't focused on the hell he would go through with Hunter at Wrestlemania. That would be too pedestrian of a issue for him to have.

The object of his distraction was Dean.

His brother had gone out for a beer run. Why he felt the need to take that damned barbed wire abomination with him was anyone's guess. He'd learned a long time ago that sometimes it was better not to know the reasoning behind the dirty blonde's decisions. But the younger man's attachment to the inanimate object was scaring the hell out of him.

Ever since Mick gifted it to him, it was like he was under a damn spell.

He'd talk to it, murmuring lowly and reverently. His hand gently caressed the wood as he wiped it down with a dry cloth. Dean, who hated shopping, had run out Tuesday morning to get Barbie it's own damn bag because he didn't want anything to accidentally scratch it. He buckled the damn into the car seat and had given up his bed for it, opting to sleep on the floor. The Samoan had lost count of how many people were already threatened with an up close and personal meeting with it if Dean felt they were too close.

While a part of him could understand the man's determined mindset, he could not condone the obsession with the bat.

Dean had spent the last several years trying to leave his bloody past behind. Trying to build a legacy on his talent, not his ability to stab someone with a fork. To become more than the lunatic everyone perceived him to be. Show that he was talented and capable without having to spill blood. That he was more than just a throwback to the glory days of ECW.

All of which he accomplished.

But this feud with Brock had done something to his brother. Something bad. His most vicious, violent, primal instincts had been triggered. It was no longer just about surviving and winning. He was determined to hurt and maim the beast, to make the man bleed and feel pain no matter how much physical damage he had to endure to make it happen.

That was the part that made alarm race through Roman's blood.

It no longer felt like the Dean he had known for five years. Didn't sound like him either. It felt like someone else entirely. Someone he had never met but had heard about. A person who was usually only spoken about in hushed tones, afraid that even speaking the name was opening up a can of worms.

Jon Moxley.

The most sick and twisted part of the Dean's personality. A dark, twisted, sadistic soulless being that thrived on pain. Didn't matter if he was inflicting it or enduring it. All that mattered was that someone was screaming in agony. That there was blood painting his skin, be it his or his enemy's.

Dean slipping back into that would not be an easy to extinguish.

Mick Foley had not helped in that task. In fact, he was directly responsible for giving it new life. The hardcore legend was fanning the fans of the fire by suggesting that Dean take Brock on a journey through the dirty blonde's deep dark past. Passing the proverbial violent torch to some he considered an adequate successor. Then he poured gasoline on the blaze with his damn gift of Barbie.

So what options did that leave Roman?

Maybe he should attempt to reason with his brother. Try to get him to realize that this was not the Wrestlemania moment he really wanted. Make him remember the long term goal he had set. Get to the top with his ability and determination. Not his flair for brutality.

Of course with Dean's current mindset, that wouldn't work.

He could try once again to take that bat away. But he was kind of scared of what the younger man would do. After all, he almost bit him last time he attempted the task. That had been a warning to back off. To ignore it and try again would probably result in a much harsher response, like being introduced to the feeling of having that bat slammed into his face.

That was something he didn't want to experience.

So he was left with what? Begging Mick to take it back? Hoping that the airline lost it? Praying that the authority would ban the damn thing? Wishing that it would somehow be devoured by termites?

Roman was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the door open. Didn't realize that he was no longer alone. That someone was sitting on the bed across from him. Staring at him with a furrowed brow. Fingers tapping impatiently on their collarbone as the beer that was being outstretched was going unnoticed.

He was pulled out of his thoughts finally when fingers clicked right in front of his face. Startled by the sudden noise, he jumped which sent his IPAD crashing to the floor. His hand grabbed it from the carpet and he was relieved to see that the screen protector did it's job. The case also worked because it came right on when he tried it. At least he wouldn't have to buy a new one.

Amused blue eyes met his, "You ok bro?"

A sigh heaved from him and he gave an unconvincing nod. "Yeah, fine, just lost in thought."

"Thinking about ripping Triple H's face apart and leaving it a crimson mask of shattered bones?"

The grin that twisted those lips was unsettling and he barely held back a shudder in response to it. This was the reason he was so concerned. That wasn't Dean. His brother would have said kicking his ass or some variation of it. Those disturbingly vivid words were all Moxley.

"You zone out of me again?"

"No."

"Then take the damn beer." Said bottle was thrust into his field of vision. "Cause if you don't, I'm gonna drink it."

He turned to face the other man fully but froze when he saw that the object of his brother's most violent dreams was lying across his lap. "You should put that away. Keep it hidden till Wrestlemania."

Those eyes turned cold, "Why?"

"Cause you don't want it getting lost or stolen right?"

"I ain't going to lose this beauty and I pity the stupid prick who tries to steal it from me." He chuckled but it lacked humor. "Cause I'll find em and cave their skull in with the crowbar then pry it out of their cold, dead hands."

Roman blinked, resisting the urge to cringe away from the other man as he affectionately patted the bat. That hadn't been a threat. It was a promise. He had to do something to end this sick obsession. Before his brother lost himself to the darkest aspect of his personality and couldn't come back from it.