((Day 4! Hope everyone is doing alright! Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews so far! I just love reading them and they really spur me on to bash these chapters out! This has been a particularly fun one for me to write today and I really hope that you enjoy it! As always please comment and let me know what you think of this newest update!))

The stench was enough to make him gag. Somewhere in the dark recesses of the vehicle something moved, little legs scuttled all around him, no doubt drown in by the smell of dying flesh. Insects, he could feel them clamber over his legs. His head rested against cold metal, eyes closed, his skull throbbed to unnatural drum beat. The frozen air beyond the truck curled through to where he curled up, battling for any warmth he could nurture. Around him, he could hear things shift and slide along the back, and above him, things swung back and forth, hitting into one another with a soft thump.

Wheels spat back stones from the black top, and the melted smell of the old engine mixed with decay made is nostrils pinch. His breathing was shallow, through his clogged, poor nose, and back out. Everything hurt, his still healing bones and fractures pulled and twisted in directions that he couldn't adjust. He drifted in and out of reality, caught between the life as he knew it and that terrifying nightmare realm the Wyatt family came from. They'd snatched him from that hospital without trouble. No one had tried to stop them – no one would have dared. There were no cops with roaring lights behind the truck he'd been stuffed into. He doubted anyone even knew. Come the morning, the only person who would walk into his room to check on him would be Lucia. Poor, sweet Lucia, how would she react knowing yet another of her Shield children had been taken? She'd followed them to protect them...

He swallowed and tried to ease himself up. His hands were twisted behind him, his vision blocked by the darkness and blur of his useless eyes. The least the fuckers could have done was abduct his glasses with him. At least then he could have had some equilibrium. He shuffled, braced his back against the side and heaved himself into a sitting position. From what little he could see, he appeared to be in the back of a truck. The sounds from the ceiling looked to be the carcasses of wild rabbit and pheasant. But that was all he could make out. He had the feeling that he wasn't completely alone though, and through squinted eyes cast to the opposite corner, he noted what looked to be a very tired old mongrel dog. It didn't make a whole lot of noise and until it moved its grey dashed head he'd thought it to be dead. What a strange thought, that people like the Wyatts would have animals...but then, he supposed it made sense. Through all Wyatt's ramblings through the years, he'd made mention of beasts more than humans. He didn't know where they could be heading: the compound upon which the cult made their home was known to exist, but only those in his inner circle knew where it resided. He imagined it to be in some vast wilderness, surrounded by endless dead woodland and quagmire. The very thought made him sick. He was away from the medication which kept the pain at bay, and whilst he didn't know how much time had passed, he could already feel the agony tensing in his limbs. He bit down hard on the gag they'd tied around his mouth and felt any terror he had turn into grating annoyance.

This was just inconsiderate.

Was he afraid of the Wyatt family and what they might do to him? Yes. He would have been stupid not to be. But the frustration of the situation was enough to override all else. This was being done to just mess with Dean. Bray Wyatt may have had beef with him – but for the strike to happen now, during Raw when his friend was vulnerable, when they all knew he was alone. But who'd given the game away? Now that was a question...someone must have been watching them, must have known that Dean had flown out the night before. Just how long...had someone been spying on them, on him?

He could swallow down that cold hard nugget of truth later though – the truck had stopped.

Seth turned his head to try and make out better what was going on. The do nearby had raised his head a little, tired eyes barely wide enough to see anything at all. It yawned and licked at its maw, sharp yellow teeth and all before it closed its mouth once again and finally seemed to notice the man who shared the back with him. Seth could hear doors slam and tried in vain to struggle back, back away from the doors. His breathing was too heavy, his nose blocked by the dust. The mongrel watched him with bored interest before its ears perked at the sound of footsteps coming closer, closer –

The door opened and Seth was blinded by immediate bright light. It stung his sore eyes. Frozen air hit him with the force of a thousand bites. He tried to block out the burning white by closing his eyes, but still through his lids he saw ever changing colors, like he was staring unblinking into the sun. Even through his nose, his breath clouded on the air, his body shivered uncontrollably. A sharp whistle drove the dog from the back of the truck, out past the men who barricaded Seth in. Large, hairy, disgusting hands burst through the light, gripped hold of his plastered up leg. The pressure exploded and pain shot through him. He tried to kick out, tried to buckle from their grip, but as soon as he'd gained some form of upper hand, they grabbed his ankle and heaved. Seth's body snapped back and hit the metal floor, crushing his poor hands beneath his weight. He could do nothing as they pulled him out, as he was slung over Harper's burly shoulder and walked away from that truck. Though the haze of his eyes he could just about make out tree trunks, his nose smelled firewood, and ears, well his ears heard the lulls of the evening and the dusk.

His head bashed against Harper's sweaty back. How could he be hot enough to sweat? But then, he could question, why such bitter cold at the start of the summer? Tennessee was a sweet state, sickly sweet in the heady summers and cruel in the winter...but, he supposed, as they entered through a door and into some sort of makeshift shack, that maybe it was just the shock of the air and the thinness of the pajamas he'd lived in for months. He'd spent so long indoors...he just wasn't used to the freshness of the air anymore. Why was he even thinking about this right now?

So much for a brain which could move at a million miles an hour when it couldn't even concentrate on how to get out of this mess, and only focus on the weather. There was something screwed up about that.

'Put him down,' Bray's voice was soft against the lantern light. 'Take away his bonds, there's no where he can go anymore.'

Obediently, and almost tenderly, Harper placed Seth on the floor, among warm, sweet smelling hay which immediately felt twenty times safer than the truck had. With a flick of a switchblade, his hands were cut loose, the gag pulled away from his mouth and to his utmost surprise, his glasses handed to him. Seth blinked and his eyes watered as everything came into sharp focus. He gazed around him in complete confusion. This was nothing like the rancid shack he imagined the Wyatt's to reside in. There was something almost...homely about the place. The floor walls and ceilings were all old wood, but the ground was covered with dozens of handmade rag rugs, the walls had old dusty frames with equally ancient pictures hanging in them. One in particular caught his eye, and it hung directly above the stone fireplace near him. Logs had been tossed on the fire, and over it looked to be a pot of some sorts. Meaty smells came within and dear God it smelled delicious.

Bray Wyatt sat in that precious rocking chair of his, back and forth, back and forth, jutting from his mouth was a pipe which he puffed on at intervals. When he seemed to notice Seth's attention on the stew pot, he actually smirked and nodded to Rowan, who'd stood guard at the door.

'Feed the man Rowan, after all, we may be animals, but we are not the monsters,'

Seth was far too confused and far out of his depth to question him. Within minutes, piping hot, mouth watering stew full of vegetables and game was handed to him in a bowl. He ate without fancy, and as he did, he glanced further around the room. It was cosy, comfortable and looked like a great many hunting lodges did. Hell, if he'd known nothing else about the Wyatt's he would have assumed this was just the life style they lived. But then he remembered Bray was a supernatural cult leader and he began to eat far more slowly, suspicious once more. But the man didn't interrupt him once as he had his fill, instead, waited, patiently, not like a man possessed, but a polite member of society in a moth eaten Hawaiian shirt and blood stained pants. Finally, when the last of the stew had been swallowed, and warmth infiltrated his bones, Seth, exhausted, rested against the hay and wall and looked at the portrait above Bray's head once again. A beautiful woman was frozen in time, rook black hair, pale skin and wild eyes.

Wyatt glanced up, through the pipe smoke, 'So you see her at last, our Sister Abigail who forever watches us.

'Why am I here Bray?' Seth's eyes flicked to all exits. Harper was at one, Rowan at the other. Bray was right; there was no way for him to escape. Rope wasn't necessary to stop him if there was nowhere to go. 'What happened between us in that ring, it was a match I had to win.'

Puff puff, puff puff.

'When I was a child, and I wandered through these woods I cried, and I cried for someone to come and to take me into their arms and to tell me that all the wilds in the forest were just noises. That there was nothing to be afraid of. She came, she found that poor boy in the woods and she brought me into her home, like she did every one of us, and she told us stories about gods and monsters and humans and animals and from her, I learned the difference between being a good man, and being what was needed.'

Seth stared at him, one eyebrow raised. Bray however didn't seem to care and continued in that sage voice of his:

'And in the end, oh in the end, we do what we have to, to make a better world. A world where everything is bright as the moon in the night and every snake and every wolf are tamed and we no longer have to be afraid of whistles in the dark. She lived and she died burning the things that we didn't need in those flames. Love, compassion, these things you treasure so deeply have not saved any of you Seth.'

He wasn't wrong.

'I have faith in my friends that they can and will win this fight. Whether I'm there or I'm not I know that they're strong enough to save themselves and battle against people who will do whatever it takes to win. Men like you Wyatt.'

Bray laughed at that. He leaned forward in that rocking chair and pointed the tail end of that pipe at Seth. 'And that, that Seth is where you're wrong.' the pipe went straight back into his mouth and gestured for Harper and Rowan to come forward. They went to his side without question and he laid his hands on their arms, joining them together in some unholy trinity. 'You see Seth, we stand united and together we fall. And we have fallen, from her grace and down into the hell she promised for every human who didn't turn to the truth. We have abandoned all good to be what we need. The world needs its animals and it needs its heroes. We are the beasts who snap at children's dreams, and you – you are one of the hounds who bite back.'

This almost sounded like he was being praised but he couldn't be sure. Maybe it was the exhaustion taking him over, maybe it was the wood smoke wearing out his body, or maybe he'd just received one too many knocks to the head...but he just couldn't understand where Bray was going with his monologue. He knew there would be a point to the insane ramblings, somewhere in the bones of it all.

'Your friends are hurtin' Seth. Your Dean Ambrose, he done complete the demon's trials. I will have time for him in her house. She will approve of him and she will love him and he will come to her lap in time. His mind has already been taken by the flames and one day we will return him home. But for now, for now you have come through my door and I will deal with you. Look at you, you're nothin' more than ash and bone when last I remember you were rabid, a beast that tore meat down to the splinter and you were fast like the dark in the light. Now you lay there, on my floor, with the dogs.'

'I hate to point this out to you, as you clearly have not noticed, but I broke a lot of bones that night.'

'And not all of them were yours. The wilder ones fight to the death like your Dean Ambrose, like you, Seth Rollins did that night. There is a shadow in your heart and I can see it. To be the strongest, to survive we all need a little darkness...that's why Abigail chose you.' Bray looked up once more to that portrait.

Chose me? Seth frowned, and then, as he stared at that picture he took off his glasses. Then, everything fell into blurry faced place. 'Paige? You think Abigail is Paige?'

Rock, rock, puff, puff.

'Is she not your dawn and your dusk? Is she not the truth among all the lies? Is she not the knee you beg at, the feet you worship and the hand you kiss? Would you not feed her if she were sick, would you not give your soul to replace hers as she lay dying in front of you? Does she not possess you when you are in her presence, and when she has gone, do you not miss her evanescent drug?'

He could hardly deny what Wyatt was saying was true. True down to his very core and fiber; but what Bray was thinking of was a woman he remembered from his childhood. Sister Abigail was dead and gone, Paige was young and very much alive.

'She is the mortician to your god. She makes you hunger and makes you proud and jealous of men you love. She drives you to madness for her flesh. Her screams make you a wilderman.'

'Enough Wyatt.' Seth snapped. 'Just what are you trying to tell me, and why am I even here? Just so you can sit there in all your damned glory and preach to me? I love her, yes, I do, if that's what you're trying to get at.'

Bray gave him a wide, toothy grin. 'And love makes monsters of us all. You've been sleeping too long Seth Rollins. I want to see the beast that defeated me, that terrorized titans...so that when you are complete once again...I can cripple you, I can end you. To kill the weak is to show mercy, and I have none. Consider this a warning, Seth Rollins, like your Dean Ambrose, when you are fat on the spoils of war and the bodies of your enemies, I will come for you.'

'Get strong. Win things, die at your hand. That doesn't seem like much of an incentive Wyatt. You need to work on your sales pitch.' Seth muttered, but there, on the floor of the madman's hut, he knew, that he was right. He'd shown more fight and determination in the past few hours than he had since he'd landed in hospital in the first place. Calamity seemed to make him stronger. The promise of marrying Paige had brought him hope. Knowing that his friends were back in the fold gave him determination. All of these things, wrapped in a straw bundle by the Wyatt fireside, made him look the cult leader dead in those unblinking eyes. 'But I promise you, when the time comes for you to make your move, you won't be laying a hand on Dean, on Paige, none of us. I don't belong to you. None of us do. So maybe you should take your own advice, because if you threaten me or my friends again, the safest thing to do will be to run.'

Finally satisfied, Wyatt nodded once again to Harper. The giant heaved Seth up from the floor with that massive hand. 'Escort Mr Rollins to a room. He will be our guest tonight.'

Seth's violent protests fell onto deaf ears. His shouts and his attempts to flee were silenced at the closing of the door. Wyatt remained alone in his quarters and watched as the flames died in the fireplace. 'Soon sister, soon we will have our glory. I've done as you've wished, and the last remnants of the old kingdom will die in your inferno. He'll do as you ask of him for he knows your love.' Wyatt's eyes glanced to the ceiling, hearing the thud of Harper's footsteps and Seth's continued protests. He placed his pipe back between his teeth, and smiled.