Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Christabel.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Mpreg, Violence, Bloodshed, etc.

John reached out and touched a hand to his boyfriend's shoulder. "Randy…"

"I don't want to hear it, John. Either you help me take care of him or I will leave you out here and handle him myself." Randy hissed. The flicker of bloodthirsty brutality shined in his icy blue eyes.

John relented. "Fine. But don't kill him, okay? I don't want you behind bars because you lost your temper." John said calmly. "And if I have to, I will take whatever means necessary to make sure you don't kill him."

The hint of a threat was not missed, but Randy didn't comment on it. Randy shuffled back a bit, and then, with one harsh thrust, he put his foot through the door. It went down without a fight, splinters of wood falling in every direction and the knob clattering down to the floor. John shot him a look, his eyes conveying the silent train of thought 'was that really necessary'? Randy only smiled a feral, toothy grin and made his way inside.

Sheamus had heard the crash and he came clambering down the stairs, a towel around his waist. It looked as if he had just finished up a shower. And a few steps behind him, resting at the top of the stairs, was his young lover, Evan Bourne. Randy had to fight the urge to bash the rapist's face in, because he knew that it would traumatize Evan. Even if Sheamus was the scum of the earth, Evan didn't deserve to be treated like trash.

The red-haired brawler was about to make a comment when Randy shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, his heel catching on the stairs and he fell back. His head smacked on the edge of one of the stairs and it cracked open, blood pouring everywhere. Evan let out a rather unmanly scream, but nobody noticed. Quietly, he shuffled off and locked himself in the bedroom. He was too scared to even attempt to retaliate.

"Who the fuck do you think that you are, to take somebody that clearly doesn't want you? Does it make you feel like a man to rape a pregnant ring announcer?" Randy screamed in his face. Sheamus stared at him, dazed.

After several minutes, Sheamus blinked and cleared the fog out of his eyes. "Who the hell told you that I was the one who hurt him?" Sheamus hissed. "How do you know it wasn't that scum ball Del Rio?"

"We watched the video you made of him, you sick bastard! That's how we know!" Randy screamed.

John reached out for him. "Randy, calm down. Remember what I told you."

"Back off, John!" Randy hissed at him, before he threw his hand off.

"I didn't touch him. Why would anyone want him after Del Rio trashed him?"

And that was the end of Randy's self-control. He landed ten swift blows to Sheamus' temple, momentarily disorienting him. The red-haired Irishman swooned and tumbled over, almost falling and catching himself on the coffee table. Randy hooked his hands like an ax and clubbed them into the base of Sheamus' spine, loving the way that he fell to his knees and writhed in pain. His hands clenched in the air as he tried to control himself.

Sheamus rolled onto his back and kicked out. His foot caught Randy's ankle and he went down, landing hard on the shoulder that he had broken in the motorcycle accident all those years ago. John flinched and went to intervene, but Randy shot him a look that told him it was best to keep his distance. In the five seconds it took for that interaction to take place, Sheamus hooked onto Randy's ankle and started to contort it awkwardly.

"Fine. You want me to admit that I raped him? I did. And he deserved every minute of it. He's such a whiney little bitch of an announcer, don't you think? Someone finally needed to shut… him… up." Sheamus hissed.

"You're sick." Randy hissed. He could barely breathe through the cloud of pain.

"I'm only sick because I acted when everyone else was too afraid to." Sheamus chuckled darkly.

And that's when John snapped. In the blink of an eye, he was over behind Sheamus and gripped Sheamus' hair firmly. "You twisted son-of-a-bitch. You deserve to rot."

"As if I want to be lectured by the Boy Scout." Sheamus rolled his hazel eyes.

"Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" John asked, his voice scarily level.

Sheamus made the mistake of turning his head around and John landed a swift blow to his nose. It busted and blood started to spurt everywhere. John yanked him hard and he released Randy's ankle with a shout. Distantly, he heard his boyfriend moan as he rolled over onto his side, desperately clutching his ankle and writhing in pain. John tackled him to the ground, the two rolling all over the scarcely carpeted floor and exchanging vicious blows.

And then Randy joined in. Suddenly back on his feet with his second wind, he started to stomp on every bit of flesh that became visible for more than a second at a time. Sheamus writhed in agony, pained beyond belief and desperately clutching to the edge of consciousness. However, before he could do so, Randy and John switched off. Randy took hold of Sheamus' ears, brought his head up, and dropped down so hard that he cracked his head again.

John took his boyfriend by the shoulder and finally pulled him off. "C'mon, Randy. Like I said, I don't want you to kill him. We have to find somewhere to wash this off." Both men were covered in Sheamus' blood.

Randy smirked when he noticed this. "Did I ever mention that you look damn hot when you lose control like that? I'm seriously turned on right now."

John couldn't help but return the sentiment. "Well, then. All the more reason to head back to the hotel and get washed up. And then, we can finish what we started yesterday."

Randy nodded. "I can't wait."

Finally, after several more tests, Ricardo was released into Alberto's care. He would need to have extensive after surgery care because of all of the injuries that he had sustained, which included but where not limited to lacerations on his arms and legs, a slightly bleeding rectum, and a few muscles tears. Also, the wound to his neck had been further aggravated. Alberto would have to be extremely careful with him.

Now, he stood beside his bed, waiting patiently for Ricardo to gather the courage to take his pants off. He knew that it was stressful, considering the fact that he had been raped, so he didn't want to push him. But his tears in his rectum needed to be coated with an antibiotic cream to make sure that it wouldn't become infected. He knew that it embarrassed Ricardo, but he also knew that he needed to do it. He needed to reestablish that trust between them.

Ricardo squeezed his chocolate brown eyes closed and finally gathered the courage to tear them down in one swipe. It aggravated a few of his stitches, but none of them popped and (luckily) none of them bled. His underwear followed soon after. A dark blush on his face, he carefully hobbled over to the bed and lay down. Taking a breath to calm himself, he spread his legs and raised his hips a bit off of the bed.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, mi hermosa. I love you and I will never hurt you again." Alberto assured him softly. "And I want to take all of the necessary measures to make sure that you never have to think of what Sheamus did."

"I know, I know. It's just…" and here, Ricardo sniffled. Tears slowly started to streak down his face. "It hurt so much. All this time, I thought you didn't care about me. Now, you do and I'm damaged goods."

"You're not damaged goods, Ricardo. I love you, no matter what happens or happened in the past. Sheamus may have hurt you, but I don't look at you any differently because of that."

"Are you sure about that?" Ricardo asked worriedly. Tears still poured out of his eyes.

"I'm positive, mi amour. I never want to lose you again because of my own stupidity." Alberto assured him.

Carefully, Alberto applied the cream. After he had disposed of the gloves and washed his hands, he came back and tended to his stitches. With a heating pad on his stomach, Alberto covered him up and climbed into bed beside him, on top of the blankets. He wasn't sure if Ricardo would want him that close to him after what had happened with Sheamus. But Ricardo rolled over onto his side and moved the blankets over so that he could come underneath.

"Please, Alberto? Please?" Ricardo asked weakly.

Alberto nodded and kissed Alberto's forehead. "Of course, mi amour. Always."