A/N: YAY! NEW CHAPTER! How long's it been? Forever? That sounds about accurate. To sum up the past few months, I got my MFA, finished my thesis, and had my appendix removed. I'm finally off for a few months before I head out to California and start being a grown-up, so I decided to get back to work on the FF. This chapter...well, it is what it is. I don't know if I like it or not, but I worked hard to make it good. Hopefully, y'all will like it.

Thank you to SLSheartsRKO, BigRedMachineUK, VanityMayhem, menji, HaleyUchihax3, Animal-Viper-Cena Fan, MissMikkiMouse, EncryptedxSoul, RKO, and justbornawesome for reviewing the last chapter! You ROCK and I love you ALL! Peace!

Chapter 38: The Abyss Beckons

Randy's eyes drifted open, studying the dim expanse of the ceiling above him. He could feel Ashley next to him, her cheek pressed against his chest, her slender body rising slightly with each soft breath as she slept.

The Legend Killer tilted his head to the side, studying the slumbering figure of the woman he loved. He envied the rookie Diva's ability to sleep despite everything that was plaguing her; to drift away as though nothing was the matter. That sort of peace…it had been stolen from him months ago, long before he had even met the Diva Search winner—it had deserted him the moment he chose to pursue war with the Undertaker.

Nowadays, all he saw when he closed his eyes was the dark silhouette of a man outlined against a wash of blue light, or the hellish orange glow of flames—or, as he was experiencing more and more frequently, the gloved fingers of the Deadman clamped over Ashley's mouth, dragging her back into the darkness…

Just as swiftly and abruptly as they came, however, the nightmares would end, leaving him panting for breath, sweat pouring down his face, his insides clenched so tight with dread that he had no recourse but to puke. And as he struggled to compose himself, to convince himself that what he had seen was nothing more than a dream, he never failed to wonder if the Undertaker was watching him during these moments of absolute weakness; if he was witnessing the third-generation Superstar's descents into terror…and savoring every second of it.

Randy touched Ashley's face, his fingers trailing gently down the smooth softness of her cheek. In some ways, he was grateful that she could sleep; that in his arms, she could find the serenity that had eluded him all these months. Anything was better than that wide-eyed countenance of frenzied panic she had shown back at the arena, her beautiful face pale and shell-shocked, her voice trembling with unshed tears as she spoke…

Randy…I'm so scared…

And as he stood there, holding her close to him, murmuring words of comfort in a tone just as agonized as hers, a bitter taste had filled his mouth—because deep down, he knew that every syllable he uttered was empty and devoid of meaning.

Because, truthfully, he knew that the rookie Diva had every reason to be afraid.

Though he had never mentioned it, the Legend Killer had seen Ashley's match with Candice on last night's Raw broadcast; had glimpsed that instant when she had disappeared—and someone, something, had taken her place. Randy remembered standing so fast that he knocked over the chair, backing away from the television until his back collided with the wall, biting his lip until he tasted blood to keep himself from screaming.

The digitized figure on the screen had looked like Ashley—but when she moved…Randy felt like he was staring at the Undertaker. And in that moment, the third-generation Superstar heard the full brunt of the implicit message blasting at him with all the amplified volume of a loudspeaker, as though the Deadman was standing right next to him, whispering into his ear…

See what I can do? I can control her any time I want. I can HAVE her any time I want. As long as you provoke me, she is MINE, and you can't stop me, you can't STOP me—

Randy clenched his free hand into a fist, pressing his knuckles against his mouth to stifle his anguished whimpers. He squeezed his eyes shut, wondering vaguely if this madness was what would have eventually happened to Stacy if he hadn't…intervened.

Well, it was too late to find out now, wasn't it? He had made damn sure of that.

Ever since Wrestlemania, the Legend Killer had convinced himself that he had done what he did to Stacy because he cared—but now, lying here in the darkness, teetering on the brink of Hell…he was starting to realize that it had been just the opposite.

He hadn't RKO'd the leggy Diva to protect her—he had simply been too much of a coward to fight for her…and ultimately, he just hadn't cared enough for her to risk it all.

But now…things were different.

Now…he did care.

And now…this war…had just become personal.

Randy wrapped his arms tightly around the sleeping Diva Search winner, embracing her protectively. "You can't have her." His voice was a low murmur, threaded with a barely concealed bitter hatred.

"I won't let you have her…"

Ashley walked slowly down the hallway in the direction of the women's locker room, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Tonight's broadcast from the TD Garden in Boston marked her first time back in a Raw arena since her match with Candice the previous week…and already, the rookie Diva was not looking forward to the evening ahead.

Even after seven days, the memories of that bout—the beginning and the end, and the absolute blackness sandwiched between—refused to dissipate, and even the transient bliss she had shared with Randy had failed to assuage the sensations of dread and anxiety churning within her.

Between that, and the cold shoulder everyone else seemed to be content to give her after the incident between Matt and the Legend Killer, Ashley didn't know what kind of treatment to expect from the Divas' division…but she strongly suspected they wouldn't exactly be welcoming her with open arms.

If only there was some way to explain it to them—but that was impossible; the truth was even more bizarre and insane than what had actually occurred. And even if she could…there was no way she could make them understand.

Especially since the only two people who did wouldn't be there to back her up.

The Diva Search winner swallowed hard, pushing aside a wave of dizziness that was part nausea, part nostalgia. She had felt almost this exact same way before, just prior to walking into the locker room as a Diva for the first time—nervous, uncertain, wondering what they all must think of her. And for not the first time, she found herself wondering what would have happened if none of it had happened—if she had ignored Candice, if she hadn't accepted Torrie's dare, if (God forbid) she had kissed Gene Snitsky instead of Randy—

Ashley halted, tilting her face up toward the ceiling and squinting her eyes against the harsh impersonal glare of the fluorescent bulbs. She could spent all day listing the "What ifs"—but it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't stop what was happening to Randy…or to her.

Up ahead, the rookie Diva finally spotted the door to the locker room. She stopped in front of it, pressed her hand against the cool metal, and taking a deep breath, pushed it open.

The room wasn't completely empty—that would have been too much to hope for. Victoria was by the makeup counter, carefully checking her eyeliner in the mirror. On the other side of the room, Maria and Mickie were huddled together on one of the benches, talking together in low serious tones.

Their quiet stream of conversation abruptly ceased as the Diva Search winner stepped into the room. The eyeliner pencil slipped from Victoria's fingers, clicking softly against the concrete floor. All three stared wordlessly at the rookie Diva.

Ashley met their gazes with effort, forcing her mouth to curve upward in a smile. "What? Is there something on my face?" Silence greeted her failed attempt at humor, and the Diva Search winner quickly averted her eyes, moving to a far cubbyhole and shrugging off her coat.

Even with her back turned, however, she could still feel the uncomfortable weight of the other Divas' stares, like a thick stifling blanket that had been thrown over her. The silence was deafening.

Ashley gripped the edge of the upper shelf with both hands, pressing her forehead against her fingers. "Someone say something." Her voice was soft, almost pleading. "Come on…I know you're all thinking it—"

Her plead received no answer…only more silence.

All of a sudden, Ashley felt something give way within her, unleashing a wave of anger and bitterness so acute that it felt like someone had poured battery acid on her insides. "Fuck!" Without warning, she kicked the shelves, her boot glancing off the laminated wood with a hollow TWOCK. She kicked it again. And again. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

The rookie Diva whirled around, her blue-green irises blazing. Maria was already cringing as though she'd been slapped, tears pooling in her emerald eyes. Mickie put a comforting hand on her arm, watching Ashley with a mixture of concern and wariness. Across the room, Victoria was already backing away, the edge of the makeup counter preventing her from getting very far.

The Diva Search winner stared back at them, breath tearing hoarsely in and out of her lungs, her voice harsh and barely recognizable. "I'm so…sick…of this—of all of you! I bust my ass just so you'll accept me, so you'll treat me like a goddamn human being—but I make one mistake, and I go right back to being the outsider, to being the freak!"

Ashley looked around, her eyes never leaving the trio of Divas. "What gives you the right, huh? What gives you the right to judge me—when your stupid rules and your bullshit cliques are the thing that's fucked up—"

She stood a step forward, and almost in unison, the other Divas unconsciously drew back, shrinking away from her as though they feared she might hit them. The rookie Diva's gaze moved from one to the next, her body sagging as realization gradually dawned on her. "Oh…I see. I get it now. You're afraid. You're afraid…that I'll do to you…what I did to Candice and Torrie."

Ashley pressed her lips together. Already, her rage and her fire were draining out of her, leaving her just as empty and broken as before. Slowly, she bobbed her head up and down in a nod, tears blurring her vision. "That's good…maybe you should be." Her voice had grown softer; it was now little more than a tight strained whisper. "I know I am."

With that, she bolted for the door, yanking it open and stumbling out into the corridor, breaking out into a run almost immediately.

The rookie Diva didn't know where she was when she finally stopped; tears had reduced her vision to streams of light and color. All she knew was that she could no longer hear voices, or sense other people around her. For once, her physical location mirrored her emotional one.

Ashley slumped back against the wall, pressing both hands against her face and trying her very hardest not to cry; not to break down as she had done so many times already. Her one thought—if it could even be called that—was that it was really too bad Candice wasn't here to appreciate this…because in the most fucked-up way possible, the brunette Diva had finally gotten what she wanted.

"He doesn't have a chance."

The Diva Search winner stiffened as a familiar voice cut through the haze of misery and self-pity surrounding her. Ashley hesitantly lowered her hands, her heart instantly plummeting into her stomach as she stared up into the face of the Big Red Machine.

Kane slowly tilted his head to the side, studying the rookie Diva with the same reptilian focus as a snake eying potential prey. The side of his mouth twisted upward in a warped half-smile. "Once my brother destroys your boyfriend…nothing's going to stop him from coming after you."

The Tag Team Champion paused, leaning in closer, still staring at Ashley with that same unsettling intense focus. "You're trembling," he whispered. There was something in his voice, something which hinted at dark unspeakable things, and the Diva Search winner wished desperately that the earth would open up at that very second and swallow her whole. "Do I frighten you?"

Ashley rapidly shook her head, backing away from the Big Red Machine as subtly as she dared. "No…" she retorted, her voice defiant…but still quavering with the unmistakable hint of fear. "I'm not afraid of you—or him."

"Liar!" Faster than she could have imagined, Kane was in front of her, blocking her between his massive arms, his face mere inches from hers. "I can smell your fear." His hot fetid breath washed over her, and Ashley had to fight the urge to gag. His mismatched eyes bore into hers; she could have sworn that the pale blue one was peering directly into her soul.

The Big Red Machine's maniacal grin widened. "How did it feel, tasting the darkness, seeing the blood on your hands and knowing that you were to blame? How did it feel…staring into the abyss?" He leaned even closer, his rasping voice dropping to a level that only the two of them could hear: "You can't escape him—"

"Kane."

Both of them looked up at the utterance of the Big Red Machine's name, and Ashley felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief surge through her limbs when she saw Lita standing a few feet away, staring at the Tag Team Champion with absolutely no intimidation.

The Queen of Hardcore planted her hands on her hips, tilting her chin just a fraction. "Back off." When Kane made no move to do so, her brown eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Now."

For one long agonizing second, no one moved. Then, thankfully, Kane straightened up, stepping back from the Diva Search winner. All of his focus was on Lita now; Ashley could see a mixture of fascination and something she'd rather not name glittering in the depths of his mismatched eyes. "Whatever you say…wife."

The red-haired Diva's expression didn't change, but she held up her left hand, emphasizing her bare ring finger. "Not anymore," the Queen of Hardcore shot back flatly.

Kane merely chuckled, a sinister chuffing sound, his mouth still twisted in that sick smile. "Of course…I keep forgetting." He swept one last lingering look over Lita's lithe body—one which would have made Ashley's skin crawl if it had been directed at her—before brushing past her and moving down the hallway.

The red-haired Diva never took her eyes off him; it wasn't until the Big Red Machine lumbered around a corner and disappeared from sight that she glanced back at the rookie Diva, peering closely at her with what could have almost been concern. "Did he hurt you?"

Ashley shook her head, pushing herself up and off the wall. "No, I—"

That was all she got out before Lita punched her in the face.

The blow sent the Diva Search winner reeling backward, crashing into a stack of chairs as she struggled to regain her bearings. Without breaking motion, the Queen of Hardcore kicked her in the abdomen, knocking her to the floor and driving all the air out of her lungs.

As Ashley lay there, struggling to draw breath back into her body, she heard the rapid rhythm of footsteps, followed by Lita's fingers in her hair, her fingernails actually digging into the rookie Diva's scalp as she yanked her head up.

The red-haired Diva jammed her face into Ashley's. Her expression was emotionless, but fury poured out of her brown eyes. "You stupid little bitch," the former Women's Champion spat. "I warned you—I told you what would happen if you fucked him over. But you didn't listen; you just had to give it out like the little skank you are—"

In spite of the pain, in spite of the situation, Ashley felt an involuntary giggle escape her throat. "Just like you, huh?"

The slap that Lita nailed her with was so hard that it brought tears to her eyes. The Queen of Hardcore's voice was soft, but as hard and piercing as nails. "If you ever, ever, lump me in with you again, I'll break your jaw. You are nowhere near my league."

Lita paused, and Ashley heard her shift her weight a little. "One thing you should know about me—I don't make idle threats. That's why, as soon as I got here, I booked a little match for the two of us tonight. You…against me…with no disqualification."

The red-haired Diva laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. "Not that it matters; even with rules, you don't stand a chance against me—no matter what that Canadian whore's taught you. And don't think that your little victory last week actually means anything. The only thing you did was beat the one Diva more useless than you—and while that psycho act you put on in the ring might have everyone else scared, it doesn't scare me."

Lita leaned closer, until the tip of her nose bumped against Ashley's. "You…you're just a problem…one I should have dealt with a long time ago."

"Please," Ashley's mouth was dry, her voice barely more than a cracked whisper. Her face was throbbing, she could still barely breathe, and she was no longer certain of her ability to control her gag reflex. "Please…you don't know what you're doing—"

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing," the Queen of Hardcore interrupted coldly. "Tonight…I'm ending your fucking career." With that, she slammed the rookie Diva's face against the concrete floor with brutal force.

As Ashley lay there, rapidly lapsing into unconsciousness, the last thing she heard before the darkness overtook her was the sound of Lita's footsteps dying away into silence.