((Greetings friends! Here is day 5 of merry ficmas! I hope that you enjoy it, and as always please let me know what you think! 3))

Beyond the cracked window was endless darkness; a twisted woodland that stretched as far as the eye could see in any and all direction. He could press his face against the glass and just try to spy some sign of human life beyond the Wyatt's walls, but all he was met with was a greased cloud of his own breath. The loft had been used for storage for decades, had fallen into ultimate disrepair. All around the old bed frame lay goods of all shape and size; he saw tools and he saw traps, bundles of animal furs and bones...all the signs of a life of solitude. How they'd ever come to the wrestling world would no doubt be an endless mystery. Harper, he knew, had made a name on the extreme circuit, as Dean had. Bray's history was a blank slate, as if someone had taken an erasure to his life. They knew only what he revealed in his sermons, and even then only what could be decoded from his cryptic words.

It felt like he was at the edge of the world, too far from civilization, stuck in a past that could never move beyond a primitive nature. Against the brazen moon, he saw birds free to go where they pleased, and envied them. He heard animals call to one another in the dark, and the cold, endless whistle of Harper as he stood guard outside of his door.

And so he lay on that wretched old mattress and stared up at the cobweb patterned beams. For all the frozen beauty outside, he could feel nothing but the quiet rage that bubbled just under the surface. When he'd been dragged up those stairs, when he'd been thrown onto that bed, he'd almost seen sympathy in Harper's eyes. Almost – before it disappeared with the closing of the door. Was this his payment for all the punishment he'd put himself through? Was this his reward for being the determinater and pushing through the endless boredom and customary pains just to stand and fight and do it all again? Wyatt had pushed buttons down in the den, had poked holes in the thin veneer of confidence Seth had re-grown and now...now he was just pissed off. He'd simply moved from one prison to another, this one far less hygienic and definitely not conforming to any standards beyond 'fucking dusty'. He was more than moderately tired of being helpless: three months of lying under sheets and waiting for pain killers had grown tiring. He wanted to be back out with his brothers, laying waste to the scourge and the evil tyrants who might try and knock them off the mountain and down to the pits below. Perhaps it took being taken to the Wyatt Lot to really understand the position he was in. No matter where he was, in a hospital, in a chair, in this rotten place – he was trapped, a prisoner of his own body.

Wyatt had said a great many strange things. His intent to destroy him was matched equally with a bizarre determination to save him. Wasn't that what Wyatt was all about at the end of the day with all his preaching and his sermons in the ring? A warning to the people of what would come to them if they continued down their course of life, that if they turned to him, the true saviour, they would be protected from the devastation and hell that would be unleashed to cleanse the earth of the unworthy. For years he'd presumed Bray Wyatt a simple mad man. But now, now he saw it all for what it was. The cult leader wasn't made at all, but believed every single word he said with bloodthirsty vigour and conviction. He wanted Seth to recover, wanted him to get better, become stronger so that in the end, he could cut down something worth destroying, something worth his lifelong devotion. Why him? Perhaps it was because of every confrontation they'd shared throughout their time as rivals, as enemies...he could respect that idea. He could respect Wyatt for his struggle to save the world in his own twisted way. But those ideas, like the man himself were dangerous, too dangerous...

He could have been insulted too, at Wyatt's insistence that his current state was only worth his pity. If he'd have battled until he was dead against the likes of Triple H, he had no doubt he would have left the ring under a white sheet and his friends would have been visiting a grave rather than a hospital bed. Had it not been for Paige throwing in the towel, who knew what could have happened?

Paige...

If he wasn't so sure all his senses were working he could have mistaken this all for some subliminal dream. Paige Knight was a young woman, alive and vibrant with such wild energy he often couldn't handle it, and he loved that about her. Sister Abigail, was dead, burned down to ash and no doubt kept in a nice pot on a shrine somewhere in the house. But somewhere in the vast, mistaken mind of Bray Wyatt, the two had met and merged into one woman. They were similar in appearance, that Seth could not deny, and his love for her no doubt was matched by Wyatt's devotion to the dead woman. It was...a sobering thought, to adore something so strongly, that even after their passing, you would worship their spirit to the point that you could believe they had been born again. But what had triggered this? Before now, Wyatt had never shown any interest in Paige, in Dean...in any of them. Like the forming of the Shield, he had his brotherhood, his family, kept close, knot tight and loyal until death...but he did not have his Abigail as the Shield had Paige. She was the very last piece of the puzzle for the Hounds of Justice, but seemingly for the family, for Bray Wyatt as well.

As much as he tried to understand it, he didn't like it. He hated it. The mere thought was enough to add more fuel to his already white hot fire. The references to his friends...the intrigue in Dean, it all brought forth the same emotions as the Lunatic himself felt too strongly. Seth, there on that wire bed, felt dangerous, he felt uncontrollable and the desire to crush the men who had abducted him, who had threatened the wellbeing of his friends.

There – in the corner. A big fucking spider, its eight hairy legs stretched over the delicate strands of its massive web. Caught up in its trap, several unfortunate insects had been ensnared, all twitched against the stickiness. He watched as slowly, so slowly, the arachnid crept closer, closer to the nearest of the bugs. Its efforts to escape increased in its panic, but its fate was inevitable. No matter how it tugged and pulled its little limbs, nothing it could do stopped the spider from wrapping it up tight in its silk thread. One by one, each of the insects, no matter their fight, were tied down to save for eating later. The spider, already fat, too big to tolerate, retreated to the darkness of the corner, to wait for more unwilling victims to fall into its trap. It repulsed him, made him want to squirm away from the natural horror. He wanted to crawl out of that smashed window, and out into the forbidding woodland beyond. But where could he go? Anywhere that wasn't this room. He didn't even really know what state he was in – he could have made a guess that it was still Tennessee but he had no way of knowing for sure.

Frustration was his ally and enemy and Wyatt's warning echoed in his ears as he tested each of his limbs. His arms, whilst tired, were not painful, his leg was sore, but not unusable. There was too much to fear to stay here and wait for something to happen. Seth turned on the bed and it groaned from the shift of weight. The lantern that hung from a hook on the ceiling flickered as the cold air from the hole in the window whispered through. Night cut through him like that blunt scythe in that lay on the floor. A weapon indeed...if he could only reach it. Seth placed his bare feet on the splintered boards and flinched at the easy creak. He waited for Harper to smash through the door, but when no such thing occurred, he braced a hand against the bed frame. His heart hammered, his breath tight in his lungs and with a grunt, he forced himself up to his feet.

'Fuck,' he hissed. The pain was blinding, an agony that he could do without. But he swallowed down his protests. The scythe would be no use as a crutch; he needed something with which to support him. He pushed his glasses up his nose with his free hand and analyzed the piles of goods. There was a tidy sum of money just left there to gather dust. The pelts no doubt would fetch a high price on the illegal fur market...he had no use for them. Nor most of the tools that initially grabbed his attention, until he spied something lent up against the wall, it looked to be the remains of an old wooden ladder. Perfect. It was in enough pieces that one of them would be enough to use. But first he had to reach it.

He had to let go of the bed.

Seth held his breath, and after counting to five three times, allowed his fingers to relax their grip. A little shaky, but upright, he made to take a step. One, Daisy would be so fucking proud right now, two, three. Each new step sent pain through him. He felt effort sweat through his forehead but he couldn't give up now. Four, five he was there! He caught a hold of the ladder, what was left of it; half of it was rotted through with woodworm but what he could save was more than enough to tuck under one arm, to give him the support he needed. Harper was outside of the door. He was certainly no match for him like this but...Seth glanced down to the thick, weighted cast on his arm. He did have a built in weapon. The floor eased and squeaked and made all manner of obnoxious noises as he made for that door. He squirmed with each but knew he couldn't give up now. Finally, he reached the threshold. He steadied himself, and reached for the door handle.

It sprung open before he even had a chance to touch it, and there, standing before him, Harper stared down. There was so little of his face available that it was almost possible to miss those beetle black eyes that peered at him with the kind of frown that Seth recognized as someone who couldn't see all too well. But he clearly located Seth, and apparently not committed to causing him anymore damage, the large man folded his arms and simply waited for him to either attack or return to the bed. Seth did neither, instead, and he wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, he pulled off his glasses, and somehow still upright, he reached up and made to place them on Harper's face. His hand was caught in a grip tight enough to break even more bones, but Seth didn't panic. Instead he just let him do whatever he willed. Harper though, almost seemed confused, and after a few seconds, he plucked the glasses from Seth's hand, and put them on. He flinched as the world suddenly came into focus. Clearly, like Roman, Harper had received too many bumps to the skull over the years.

'Harper, it's been a blast, but I need to go back. My girl – she'll be worried. My brothers -,'

The man though didn't seem to hear him and instead was fascinated by the world around him and how it should be seen. The prescription probably wasn't spot on but far better than what he was used to. Seth could have laughed at the whole affair if he weren't extremely keen on escaping the confines of the compound.

'Harper? Can you get me out of here, please?'

Please? That too, seemed to be a thing to which Harper was no accustomed. It occurred to Seth, that living the way of life the Wyatt clan did, there was a structure to things which was not questioned. Bray Wyatt gave orders, Harper and Rowan followed them blindly, devoted servants to his will. Bray could demand they did anything, and they would without question, but had he ever asked anything of his followers? Seth could not remember a time he'd heard anything other than shouts, barks and quiet orders. Harper looked a bit strange in those glasses, but they kind of suited him. All he needed was a haircut and a beard trim and he could have looked like a normal guy. Sort of. The man cocked his head and seemed to be trying to digest what this polite request was, and then, finally, he nodded.

'Wait, you will?'

Nod.

'Is this some kind of tr -,' but Harper cut him off with a large hand across Seth's mouth. He held a finger to his lips. Be quiet. Then, without being invited to, Harper changed position, bent, and picked Seth straight up off the floor. The make shift crutch hit the hardwood with a loud thwack. Harper paused, listened, waited. Then, he started to make his way down the stairs. Seth could have laughed about being carried like a bride, that Harper hadn't even taken him out for a drink first, but it wasn't the time for wise cracks. He clung onto the nearest shoulder for dear life. He was surprised how light on his feet Harper was as he moved swiftly down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, he stopped once again, still as silence. What was he waiting for?

Creak...creak...creak...

Wyatt's chair in the den rocked back and forth methodically. Smoke from the pipe drifted through the doorway to where they were in the landing. Harper stepped, and put his weight down at the exact same moment as the next creak. One swallowed by the other. He moved quick through the house to the exit door, and allowed Seth to pull it open with a free hand. Outside the night was full and thick with a skin tingling chill that wasn't entirely unpleasant. A quick whistle from Harper found the mongrel from earlier peep out from behind the corner of a freestanding outhouse. The dog appeared curious about the whole ordeal, but another short call from Harper brought it to his side. Its wet nose and tongue pressed against Seth's bare foot as it stood up to sniff him. The gentle pant of the mutt somehow steadied his nerves and Seth glanced back at the house. Inside there be monsters.

And one of them...was helping him. Harper's reasons for this, Seth couldn't possibly understand. He allowed the other man to carefully load him into the passenger side of that beaten up truck he'd been in only hours before. Now that he was in the front he could admire just how rundown the old thing was. Clearly they'd had it for decades, and judging by the grease stains on Harper's rarely changed clothes, it was the big man's baby. Not a word was uttered as he started the truck up, as he put her into gear and pulled away, gravel spat up and the dog pushed itself from the back and into Seth's lap, tail wagging, clearly happy for another adventure.

He didn't want the animal on him. It stank.

Another glance over his shoulder saw the compound vanish into trees and he breathed out a sigh of relief. He was free! And he'd be damned if he were going back to that hospital.

'Harper I need to call Paige -,'

As if anticipating this would come up, Harper dug into his pant pocket, and pulled out something sleek, shiny, and very, very new. Seth recognized it instantly, even in the woodsman's burly hand.

'This...this is my phone. You grabbed this?' He'd not quite anticipated this strange kindness. First his glasses, then his mobile; had Harper been planning on helping him escape all along? Quickly, he unlocked the screen and found dozens of missed calls and even more messages. Most of them were from Paige, a handful from Dean, and six from Roman – his was the most recent phone call. But that brought a frown to Seth's brow, as he when he looked through the call list, he realized that the newest had been answered. 'Harper, did you answer this?'

Once again, no answers, just that vacant stare through the windscreen. The road trailed under the faded headlights. Thousands of trees, overgrown and tangled blurred past the truck. The dog nuzzled the side of Seth's face and licked at his neck, affectionate little thing...Seth's plaster cast hand scratched the mutt's head as he scrolled through the messages. He knew that if Wyatt wanted to kill him now, he'd have to dig up Seth's body first, because Paige would have beaten him to it for making her worry so much. Finally, when he'd glanced through the endless stream of words, he selected her number, pressed dial, and held it to his ear.

It rang.

'Harper? We're ready, we've found somewhere to wait for you. '

'Paige?'

'S-Seth? Seth are you alright? Baby talk to me and tell me you're ok.'

'Yeah, yeah I'm alright. Harper...he's helping me get back to you guys. Are you all alright? Dean? Is he in one piece?'

'Barely, but he's fine. Takes more than thumbtacks to the face to keep him down, but you know that. As soon as Kane mentioned you...Seth we should have seen this coming. I'm so sorry baby. But we're coming for you. If I ever see Bray Wyatt again he's meat in the bottom of a sausage grinder, and as soon as I get my hands on you I promise I'm never letting go again.'

'Ew, stop smothering me,' He grinned though. 'I'm alright. Help comes from unexpected places it seems...how did you find out about Wyatt?'

'Not long after we reached the hospital Roman tried to ring you again. Harper picked up. He didn't say a whole lot, but we gathered that you'd been taken by the Family and holed up somewhere...but he said not to worry. I don't know why, but I kind of trusted him because of that. He said to wait at a place called Huntland. It's a town about four hours from Memphis...I guess you're somewhere close to that.'

Seth gave Harper a sideways glance which was dutifully ignored. The man who'd helped snatch him in the first place had done a great deal to try and help him get back. This was before he'd even shown him a kindness with the glasses that he still wore. What had caused Luke Harper to act so out of turn and be as kind as to help him? Maybe he shouldn't have questioned it, but the answer intrigued him.

'Alright...I guess I'll see you soon.'

'Damn right you will. And when you do we're dragging your plaster ass to Smackdown and parading you round like you're the king of Mardi Gras.'

'I like the sound of that. Do I get that crown you promised me?'

'I promised nothing Rollins,' but he could hear the fondness in her voice. 'But really I'm glad you're ok babe. I was so worried about you.'

'Hey, don't you worry. Nothing can keep me down.'

'I'll see you soon, I love you Seth.'

'I know you do.' He teased. He heard her short snort before she hung up the phone. He looked at her called ID with something akin to joy in his heart, before he pushed the mobile into his pajama pocket. Idley, for what seemed like hours, he stroked the dog's head and back and it just sat there, only occasionally moving to get more comfortable or to lick at Harper's exposed elbow. For the whole journey, there was awkward silence. Seth had a million questions, but it seemed Luke was reluctant to say two words, let alone give him every answer he desired. He just had to be thankful it seemed for the small mercies and the kindness that could shine through from a dark soul.

Finally, when he could stand the quiet no more, Seth leaned forward to try and turn on the radio. The blasted thing didn't work. With a sigh, he sat back in the chair, his head against the window and watched the woodland flash by.

'Well Luke...I don't know why you're doing this...but thanks.'

For the first time since they'd started the truck up, Harper turned his head to look at him. There, once again, was that odd softness, a gentleness which could have thrown Seth a thousand feet. An odd croak of a sound escaped from the man's throat as he tried to well up his so rarely used voice.

'He's...wrong.'

'Bray?'

A stern nod: 'She's...not...c-comin' back...for us.'

Seth felt a pang of sympathy. It quickly passed. He opened his mouth to ask one of his hundreds of questions, but stopped himself, closed his lips and sat quiet. The dog turned again in his lap and started to lick at his beard. Seth tried to dissuade him but it was adamant until he gave in and just let it groom him.

'S-she likes ya.' Harper grunted.

'Gee ya think?' Seth asked with a turn up of his nose. He couldn't stay angry with her for long though, as those sweet puppy dog eyes peered up at him, daring him not to adore her. 'What's her name?'

'Bren,'

'Bran?'

'Bren.'

'Oh. She your dog, Luke?'

He started to nod, but then stopped and glanced down to the affection the mongrel was showing the passenger. 'Not anymore.'

Seth blinked and stared at him, then back to the dog. 'Wait what?'

'She's...chosen ya now. Can't say no.'

'Wait -,'

The stern glare he was met with brought him back to silence. Was this some odd trade of sorts? His glasses for a dog he didn't even want? But as he played with the mutt's ears, he found himself slowly warming to the idea. He'd always wanted a dog as a kid...and he didn't have time for one on the road, or so he'd thought. He had cats, Marmie and Duke (because he was original as fuck) but a neighbour looked after them when he was away. This dog..well if he was going to take care of her properly she'd have to follow him around every state in America and sometimes beyond. But she didn't seem to dislike the idea and gave him another sloppy lick to the face.

'Well...thanks I guess. I'll take good care of her. I promise...and, you can always come visit her. You know, if you want.'

Harper seemed surprised at the idea, but pleased. The slight twitch of a smile under that giant beard, brought Seth some kind of comfort, and he settled into the seat of the car, closed his eyes, and dreamed of the girl who waited for him in a town called Huntland.