Summary: Part four of Ambush

Seth stared at the closed door in front of him in stupefied disbelief. That ended up going almost exactly as he thought it would. Right down to the throwing stars and the baseball bat. But it didn't feel right. Something about Dean's cutting remarks and the collected and calm demeanor even as he lashed out at them with weapons just rang hollow.

He knew for a fact that Dean had pinpoint accuracy with the throwing stars. The dirty blonde had demonstrated it one night, after a few drinks when Seth had teased him that he didn't know how to use them. So if he had wanted to, he could have made sure that he hit either Roman or him with one. Same with the bat. Yeah, he swung it at them but it never got close enough to ever make contact.

There should have been rage, malice, bitterness, hatred in those actions because they would be deserved.

But there was none of that.

Dean, despite what he claimed, wore his heart on his sleeve. He tended to react emotionally to situations, especially when it came to people he cared about. His face always gave away what he was feeling as did the myriad of tics that he was prone to having. Those blue eyes were usually windows to the sentiments that he was desperately trying to keep at bay. No matter how hard he tried to conceal them, they always managed to leak through.

This time, there was no indicator of what he felt.

It almost felt like that lack of reaction had been practiced.

He turned his attention to Roman, who looked defeated by the reception they received. It killed him to see the other man like that. "Is it me or was there something wrong with that scene?"

"Yeah, he hates us." The Samoan mumbled, dropping down onto the stairs and hanging his head.

"No," He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. "I've been the object of his hatred before and trust me, that wasn't it. I really don't know what the hell that was."

"It definitely wasn't what I was expecting." The big brother of the shield sighed. "I figured he'd be mad…"

"There was no emotion." The high flyer cut him off, needing the other man to see it and understand why that was so troubling. "None at all. He just seemed empty and hollow and that whole situation was nothing more than a show to get rid of us."

Roman paled slightly, hating the possible reason that sprang to mind to explain the lack of emotion that the younger man described. "You don't think…"

"No," Seth knew exactly what thought had popped into the Samoan man's mind and quickly shook off that horrifying notion. "I think it's more of a situation where he's forced himself to shut down because it's easier."

"Easier than what?"

"Pretty much everything." He stood behind the other man and reached down, giving his tense shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "It explains why he's reverted to the way he was when he first came into the company. Distant, quiet, aloof."

The older man pondered that, "This is different though…"

"Not really." He mused, "Think about it. Dean's not hanging out in the locker room anymore. Doesn't exchange more than a quick greeting to people in passing. He's chosen to go back to traveling alone even though he was riding with Sami and Cesaro and he's known them forever."

"Why would he go back to that? He was doing so well."

"With everything that Dean's been through over the course of his life, I think he's reached the point where he's had enough mentally and emotionally. That he believes that he's better off going it alone and keeping people at arms length because he's had his trust shattered into so many pieces when he lets people in. So he's not going to try to glue the shards back together to have someone come along and break it again."

"If that's true then we only have ourselves to blame because we did that to him. Us. The two people he finally let in and trusted to always be there, to have his back and never betray him which we ended up doing." Roman ran his hand through his hair in frustration and huffed out his annoyance. "You know that right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"This isn't going to be easy to fix, is it?"

Seth knew it was supposed to be a rhetorical question but he felt the need to answer it anyway, "No, if he allows us the chance to fix things then it's going to take a lot of time, a huge effort and he's going to make us prove ourselves to him again."

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

"Me too but unfortunately, we might also have to face the fact that he's not going to give us the opportunity to even try to repair the damage."

"What do we do if he doesn't?" The Samoan asked tiredly, looking completely broken at the thought of not being able to fix this. "How can we approach it if he decides that it's not worth it and wants things just stay the way they are right now?"

"We'll try to change his mind." Seth hedged, not really wanting to go into the other half of his answer.

Roman turned his head, studying him carefully. "I feel like there's a but to that statement."

"Because there is."

"Ok, hit me with it little brother."

"But…if we try and he's really determined not to let us back in then we've got no choice but to accept his decision and back off." That was not something that they wanted to do but if that's what their former brother wanted then they'd have to respect that. "No matter how much we hate it."

"Well that sucks."

That made the sellout laugh but it was a bitter sound. "Yeah, it really does."

"So you're saying that even though I want to, I shouldn't stand up and march back over to his door, use the key to open it and hold him down while we plead our case?" Roman arched his eyebrow. "Or at least get some of the food we brought because I'm starving."

"I'm saying that we shouldn't do that right now." He gave a smirk and a shrug. "Dean's probably expecting that and has his nunchuks in hand, just waiting for us."

"You sound like you have a plan."

"Of course I do."

Roman let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you going to just stand there looking smug or you gonna fill me in?"

"Yup," Seth cast a hunted look back at the door. "The first part, we go back to the diner and have some breakfast. I'll fill you in on the rest over pancakes and coffee. Champ picks up the bill."

One eyebrow rose, "Uh, the champ just kicked us out of his house. So unless you somehow managed to swipe his wallet with he used us as target practice, he won't be paying for it."

"Ok, fine, the former champ with the most title reigns picks up the bill."