Hey guys! Apologies for not updating this in several days. I was at a Supernatural convention this weekend - my second greatest fanbase in life - and it was AWESOME! Now I'm back home, crying over Seth's injury and the fact that his title was taken away and everything pretty much went to shit...but we'll see what happens at Survivor Series, right? PRAY FOR NO AMBREIGNS HEELS TURN FROM EITHER PARTY PLEASE AND THANK YOU~

That said. Here's that deliciously dramatic (or should I say traumatic?) chapter I promised. Enjoy~

Roman awoke with a beautiful man in his arms, wearing his shirt, smelling of Roman's cologne, the heat of their near-naked bodies heating him under the blanket.

This is it, Roman thought, gently pressing his lips against Dean's hair in his morning fashion. This is what I want every morning for the rest of my life.

But he had to shower soon, and he had to go to work. Not seeing a reason to clothe himself more before trudging into a shower, Roman made his way out of the bedroom in just his boxers.

Seth was stepping out of the bathroom at the same time, a billow of steam rising above him, hair dripping, towel knotted over the curves of his waist. He became motionless mid-step on his way to his room. "Whoa! Oh God, Roman, sorry."

Roman twirled around, trying to blink out that sight. "No, no, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were—"

"Fuck, man, my bad. I thought you were sleeping."

"I was. Have to go to work soon." His cheeks burned red as strawberries. Seth looks good, holy-shit good, but it's so very wrong for me to think so.

"Well, I wasn't in there for too long. I'm on my way to the office, too."

"Okay."

"All yours."

"Thanks."

Roman waited until he heard the click of Seth's bedroom door before turning around. He sighed, relieved. Just shake it off. Wasn't that bad. Could have been worse.

As a way to prove to himself everything would be fine, he scuttled back into his bedroom to kiss Dean's hair again. His perfectly imperfect Dean Ambrose. The man he was meant to be with.

There's millions of hot guys out there. How'd I get lucky with this one?

Roman didn't take a long shower. He dressed for work quietly beside his sleeping angel. As he brushed his hair out, preparing the ponytail, he heard Dean shift in bed and mumble something. It sounded a lot like, "Ro."

Roman smiled. Is he dreaming about me?

The "Ro"s came again, this time more distinctly. But with each nickname in passing there came a sense of urgency. They were frantic, not amorous. Almost like his name was a question and Dean was desperate for the answer. "Ro? Ro? Ro! Roman! ROMAN!"

He was screaming. Roman jumped over the bed, landing on the other side, and took Dean's hands in a hold. He was shivering as though cold, very cold. That was impossible, given the warmth under the blanket. It must have been for a different reason.

"Dean, hey, Dean, Dean, listen to me, it's okay," Roman said, getting the words out faster than his mind could comprehend them. "Hey, you with me? It's okay, Dean, I've got you."

Dean's eyes hauled open. Salty droplets rolled from them. "Jesus, Roman," he croaked. "It's you."

"It's me. Come here."

Dean flung his arms around Roman. "That was a shitty awful dream."

"I bet. Shh, it's okay. It was just a dream."

"Yeah, but it wasn't, though. That's the thing. One time it was the real deal."

Roman stroked the back of Dean's hair, fingers getting tangled in the dishevel. "About Bray?"

"Yeah. Saw you there with him. He was alive. Still on top of you. Still holding you from me." His voice lifted in pitch. "It was awful…"

"Shh. Shh. It's okay. You're awake. That fucker's dead. Deader than dead. Your uncle murdered him twice."

"That even possible?" At last, a chuckle from him. Progress.

"With an uncle named the Undertaker? Of course it is."

A knock on the door. Seth pushed inside before Roman granted him access. "You alright, Dean?" he asked, approaching the bedside—fully dressed, thank God. Yet Roman could still visualize his cut chest, the distinct abs. He looked ahead, still holding Dean until Dean pulled away on his own.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a nightmare."

"Oh, no. I thought we were past those."

"You used to have nightmares?" Roman asked.

Dean nodded, touching the sleeve of Roman's shirt to his red eyes. "Yeah. When I first moved in with Seth. Used to dream about the Wyatts finding me, finding him, fucking us up."

"Your subconscious is sadistic," Seth said.

"Yeah. Back to reality, which somehow—for once—is a little better than my dreams."

Roman hugged him again. "Nothing's gonna happen to me again. And you're with me, and I won't let anything happen to you."

"Believe it," Seth said. "Trust him. Trust us. I promise the same thing."

"I know." Dean smiled. More progress. Success. "So you're both dressed for work. Damn. When are you both off? I need a ride in later."

"I'm off at one," Seth answered.

"Five," Roman said.

"I have to go in at five," Dean explained. "I'm closing. Shoot, Ro, I'll just miss you."

Guess Seth was the winner here.

"I'll take him in if you pick him up," Seth offered.

"Deal," Roman said.

"God, this is nuts," Dean said, leaning back against the pillow that supported Roman's head for the night. Half of it, anyway. Perhaps a quarter. The rest had been on Dean's shoulder. "Look at us, all going to jobs. Never thought we'd be the type to all have jobs."

"Well, Ro and I are the type to have jobs," Seth ventured. "You? Nah. Still can't believe it."

"My life is so different."

"Different 'cause it's borderline normal for once?" Roman teased.

Dean made a face. "Hell no. That's a four-letter word for me, normal. Give me adventures by the day and peril by night, and I'll be the happiest guy alive."

"Uh, no more peril," Seth said.

"Yeah, I can do without that," Roman concurred.

"Wimps," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Fine, what about, adventures by day, lessons by night? I can still learn a lot in this world without having a college degree. No offense, Roman. Yours will treat you well."

"None taken."

Dean played guitar while Roman and Seth finished getting ready. Roman recognized a couple of the songs amidst mostly random strumming. "Voices", from yesterday morning. "Hotel California." Improvisation, his own lyrics. Roman wondered what it would be like if Dean wrote a song. He'd have to ask at some point. A special request.

"Don't burn the house down while we're gone," Seth said to Dean, zipping his coat up.

"Fuck. Way to ruin my afternoon plans, Seth. Guess I'll have to settle for running with scissors and talking to strangers instead."

"Madcap," Roman said.

"The hell did you just call me?"

"Madcap. Eccentric, maniac, lunatic, oddity."

Dean's lips twisted into a madcap grin. "I like it."

"I thought you might."

"Have a great day at work, fellas. See you tonight, Ro."

"I love you, Dean. More than words can say."

"I love you, Roman. 'More Than Words' can say."

"Oh God," Seth groaned, "I'm leaving before this turns into Caligula over here."

"The hell did you just call me?"

As unfortunately anticipated, the walk to the parking lot was stiff and awkward.

"I'm really sorry about earlier, Roman," Seth tried. Roman praised his attempt. "Seriously, if I'd known you were up, I would have been way more careful—"

"It's okay, Seth. I didn't see anything, if it helps."

"We need a bigger place. Two bathrooms." Seth chuckled pitifully.

"Maybe someday."

"That's assuming you and Dean don't want a place all to yourselves."

"Maybe some other day. Till then, I don't think Dean nor I would be okay with you leaving us."

"Good. 'Cause I don't feel like leaving. So long as we can be okay."

"We'll be fine."

"I know you love Dean. I know damn well he loves you. I'm not getting in the way of anything, you hear?"

"Of course, Seth. I trust you."

"Good. That means a lot, Roman."

Seth lingered by Roman's car. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah. Oh," Roman said, remembering something important. "I'm gonna hit up Walmart on my way home. We need some groceries, and I'm way behind in getting some late Christmas presents for a few people. Can you think of anything we need?"

"Not off the top of my head, but I'll take a peek in the kitchen later and text you any necessities."

"Thanks. And for the record, beer isn't a necessity."

"Says who?"

Roman laughed. "Have a good day at work, Seth."

"You too, Reigns."

Roman worked with Dolph for most of his shift, time he used striving to get information out of the guy as to what he would like as a Christmas present. Personal thought into a gift meant a lot to Roman. He didn't want to settle on a gift card; it felt like a cop-out. But he couldn't get much out of Dolph except for intricate details about his new dame Vickie. Maybe a gift card would have to do, after all. It would be an even trade, in that case.

Randy was much easier to shop for, perhaps because they'd lived together for so long and he wasn't difficult to figure out. Roman selected a black-plated stainless steel Claddagh ring for him, as well as some cologne he knew Randy wore and liked. A touch pricey, but Roman couldn't imagine how much Randy had spent on that jacket for him. It was a nice jacket.

While browsing the aisles, Roman got three texts from Seth, back to back to back.

Looking in the kitchen and we're out of most breakfast stuff. Up to u what we get, but if u prefer a full breakfast instead of just toaster strudels and cereal, splurge on those aisles.

Dean said, and I quote, "Get shit for mochas."

And that he loves u.

It made Roman smile.

He paid for his items and headed out. Off for a nice evening at home—with Seth—while Dean worked. It concerned him. Could things be okay between him and Seth? No awkward phases of traded eye contact, coughing to fill the silence, and a too-hot, too-still living room?

Only one way to find out, really.

Seth wasn't home. Roman unloaded the groceries and sought out extra wrapping paper from the storage closet. While pondering options for dinner, he wrapped his presents. They'd have to take the Christmas tree down at some point soon. But it would feel kind of glum, removing the decor from the living room. His first Christmas with Dean and Seth had been magical.

Jeopardy! was on its second episode when Seth came home from wherever he'd been. He was holding a big brown box. Seth chuckled at the TV. "You are a nerd."

"Damn right," Roman said, picking a wound-up piece of tape from his thumb.

"No worries." Seth shifted the box from underneath one arm to the other. "I like this show from time to time, too. Makes me feel smart the one time per episode I actually get an answer right."

"One time? That's pretty impressive still."

"Shut up."

Roman laughed. "You hungry?"

"Eh. Kinda, sorta. I don't feel too well."

"You alright?"

"Well, I just met up with my brother."

"Really?" Roman turned down the volume on the television. "For what?"

"I asked him to bring me some stuff of mine from home." He lifted the box. "Considering I never plan on going back."

It made Roman's heart bend. "Really?"

"Yeah. You heard all that shit they were saying about Dean. I'm not gonna put up with that."

"I know, but Seth, they're your parents. They love the hell out of you, no matter what. I know they were harsh—really harsh—about Dean, but you know they're just looking out for you, right?"

Seth's nostrils flared. "Yeah, sure. That's why they tried to guilt me into college, made me feel like shit with every single choice I made for myself. The only decision they really agreed with me on—and it was more my father than my mom—was my decision to leave home, and I'm sure the only reason why that is is because it was one less kid they had to stress over. With them, it's not about what's best for me. It's about what's best for business. Family business. Whatever makes my side of the family look best to the other members during Thanksgiving and Christmastime and reunions. It's all an act. They're just mad I don't play the role of the perfect son."

"You don't have to be perfect to be a good son."

"Tell that to my dad. They're all over you. I'm sure they'd consider adopting you if you were an orphan."

"No thanks. I like my parents." Roman had called them on Christmas shortly after opening presents. He missed them, but he was glad he didn't have to heavily rely on them for anything—and right now, he was glad his relationship with them wasn't degenerating like Seth's with his parents.

"What must that be like?" Seth wondered aloud. "Sorry. I'll stop bitching. Look at all my awesome stuff! Like second Christmas."

Seth sat next to Roman on the floor. Crammed in the box was a variety of Xbox games, the laptop, a short collection of books, and a few picture frames, all holding photos of Kane and Seth. "How'd you make it by without a laptop for so many years?" Roman asked.

"This one's old. It's actually Kane's. Dad bought him a new one for Christmas one year, and baby Seth got the old one."

"Oh."

"I cried tears of joy the first time I got my very own laptop for the first time."

"They finally got you your own?"

"Nope. Got tired of waiting for them. Bought it myself."

"I'm really sorry that relationship is so shitty, Seth. I really hope you guys can work things out someday."

"Unfortunately, I'm just like my dad. I'm stubborn and petty and dominant. I probably wouldn't be the first to apologize for anything, just like him."

Roman meant it with the best intentions when he reached over and tapped Seth's hand, resting on his knee. He realized his mistake, recognizing that electricity, and drew his hand away. "You're gonna be okay. Promise."

"Weirdly enough, I might believe you someday."

Shit, here comes that awkward feeling again. Why does it always end up like this? Why can't I just sit by him and feel fine? Why do I have to get all anxious and flustered?

He had to get out of here.

"Hey, I'm actually thinking Chinese for dinner," Roman said, standing up. "You sure you're not hungry?"

"Nah. Like I said. Stomach feels pretty sour. Thanks, though."

"In that case, I'll probably swing by the comic book store and drop some food off for Dean. In case he's hungry."

"Yeah. That's a good plan, Roman."

Roman's fingers wiggled at his side. How to make this better, not worse? How to comfort Seth without wandering down a path of total destruction? "Seth, I care a lot about you. No matter what. You do know that, right?"

"Of course I do. And thanks. I care about you, too."

"I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

"Or our friendship. I feel like we're really a family here."

"Yeah, we're something special, alright." Seth offered a smile. "You make me feel a little more than okay that I'm not exactly close with my parents. Because with you and Dean, I do know what it means to be part of a family."

Good job, Reigns. You saved that one. "I'll be back in a bit, okay? Same rules apply to you. No burning down the place, running with scissors, talking to strangers…"

"What about looking both ways before I cross the street? Do I have to do that?"

"Are you going outside?"

"If I want to, bitch."

"Fine, whatever. Get hit by a car. I don't care."

Seth laughed. "Alright, go get Ambrose some food before he keels over."

"I doubt he's starving to death."

"Still. Your job to protect him, right?"

"That's very true." It was a job he would commit his life to, if Dean allowed him to stick around that long. So far he was feeling rather confident about it.

Roman gripped two brown bags of steaming Chinese food close to his body and shivered while waiting for the light to turn green so he could cross the street. He was surrounded by a handful of people who also dared to brave the temperatures well below freezing at this time. There was a Chinese restaurant just a couple of blocks from Escape Velocity, and he figured the walk wouldn't hurt. Now he was regretting it with numb fingers and a nose redder than Rudolph's.

Considering the bunch most likely huddled together at Acacia Park at that moment helped Roman feel a bit warmer. At least he had a home to go back to. Food to eat. Dean was right. He was spoiled. They both were.

Approaching the glass doors, Roman was surprised to see the sign on the door was switched to Closed.

It confused him. It was over an hour until closing time. The lights were still on inside. Roman rapped on the glass with a knuckle. No answer. He pressed his face to the door. He couldn't see anyone, not Neville nor Cody nor Neville.

It appeared to be empty. Truly closed, except for the lights.

He knocked again. Louder. Harder. Longer.

Nobody came to let him in.

Roman stared inside once more. This time he caught something he hadn't before.

A shoe on the ground sticking straight up, the rest of the body the shoe assuredly belonged to blocked by the front counter.

Like someone had fallen asleep.

Or fallen over.

Roman switched both bags of food to one hand and tugged on the door. Locked. Shit, what the hell's going on? Roman's anxiety might have had a point, for once, right now. He decided to try one more thing before making any official—and illegal—plans to break in.

He looked up the store's phone number online.

Dialed it and waited.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

If he listened closely, he could hear the phone ringing inside.

Nobody answered.

This was creepy.

Where were they?

On break?

Why would the three of them shut down the store and leave together without more than a Closed sign on the door to alert potential patrons?

Something wasn't right.

Roman decided to initiate his plan.

He set the food on the ground, lifted his leg, and kicked the door above the handle. He didn't want to break the glass and injure himself—or force costly repairs—but he had to know what was going on. Hoping it was nothing, all just a mistake, he kicked the door again. And again. And again.

The glass couldn't withstand each mighty kick. The door cracked in some places. He aimed for chips near the door handle. Once there was enough of a bend in the door frame, Roman squeezed his hand through the opening and unlocked the door from the inside.

The door squeaked open. He stalked inside.

Stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the pointed-up shoe indeed belonged to someone lying behind the counter.

Neville.

Roman's chest went rigid. "Neville," he choked out, falling to his knees beside the sleeping—unconscious?—Neville. He placed two fingers beneath Neville's jaw. The skin was warm. A good sign. He could pick up the faintest of pulses. Another good sign.

What the hell had happened here?

"Neville," Roman said frantically, tapping Neville's shoulder. He didn't want to move Neville's body in case there was a neck or spinal injury. "Neville, hey, come on, wake up, please, come on…"

Neville didn't move.

Roman ran a hand over his mouth. "Shit." He started to stand, to reach for the phone behind the counter to call 911, when he heard a grunt. Neville's head shifted slightly, then he let out a noisy cough.

"Neville," Roman said. He watched Neville's eyes flutter behind the lids, then slowly open.

"R-Roman?"

"Hey. You alright? What the fuck happened?"

"I-I can't remember," Neville groaned. "Blurry…" He squeezed his eyes closed.

Roman was about to ask where Cody and Dean were until he realized what a stupid question that was. Neville wouldn't know. He was passed out and couldn't remember anything. He searched the store as Neville roused more and more.

He finally found Cody, his body slumped behind one of the far back shelves as though placed there in the fetal position on purpose. He touched Cody's shoulder and called, "Cody. Hey. Can you hear me?"

Neville stumbled to his feet, gripping the edge of the counter for balance. "What happened? Were we robbed?"

"I don't think so. Register isn't open. Unless they robbed you, then knocked you out?"

Neville shook his head. "No. Don't remember that."

"Do you remember any of it?" Roman touched Cody's cheek with the back of his hand. Warm skin.

"Uh…give me a second…" Neville put a hand over his eyes and groaned. "I remember a woman. She was in here. Didn't say a word to us, even when we said hi and asked if we could help her find anything."

"A woman?"

"She's the last person I remember seeing besides…Dean."

Dread gripped Roman, suffocated him. Dean. Where was he? Roman swallowed hard. He was sweating all over. He searched the store three times over, in the bathroom, in a back area he was certain regular customers were not allowed to enter. No sign of Ambrose, not anywhere.

"She wasn't alone," Neville went on. Now he was tending to Cody's side. Roman would have noticed Cody finally start to awaken if he wasn't currently holding in a massive panic attack. He restarted his search, looking up and down aisles he'd already seen were empty. "She was with someone."

"Who?" Roman huffed.

"Huge guy, Roman. Like, seven feet tall. He didn't say anything, either. He was wearing a mask. I think I remember asking him about it, if it was like a cosplay or something—"

"WHERE THE HELL IS DEAN!?" Roman screamed. He'd covered every inch of the facility on foot, save for the ceiling. The last place he checked several times over was the office. Nothing there but a clutter of paperwork, filing cabinets, a radio, a disorganized desk, and a security monitor.

Security monitor…

Neville sat Cody up slowly. "Hey, buddy, you're okay. Can you breathe? How do you feel?"

"Peachy," Cody groaned.

Roman returned from the office. "Cody, you okay?"

"I think so."

"I need you to call 911. Report a break-in or something. Neville, show me how to use this security equipment in the office. We can pull up the footage and find out what happened."

"I know what happened," Cody said. Neville grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. "Well, some of it. I remember coming out of the bathroom and seeing Dean on the floor and Neville with this…Goliath man. He was squeezing Neville tight like he was giving him a bear hug or something…then that chick was standing next to him, just…watching. I couldn't get away. He might be a mammoth, but he's real quick on his feet. He let Neville fall down and came after me next…"

"Fucking hell." Roman wasn't sure he wanted to see the security footage now…but he had to know what happened to Dean. No offense to Neville and Cody, he was glad they were alright, but protecting Dean was more crucial right now.

Neville sat at the computer and slowly worked the system back to the last piece of footage where the three of them were standing up, conscious. Sure enough, Roman watched as two people entered the shop. He recognized the woman immediately. Short, choppy brown hair, dark eyes, tall enough to kick him in the back of the skull, armed with a high heel.

Abigail Wyatt.

He didn't recognize the man with her, but Neville and Cody hadn't been exaggerating calling him a mammoth, Goliath. Perhaps he stood at just an inch or two below seven feet, but he was tall and husky. He had the familiar bristly beard of a Wyatt family member, yet most of it was concealed by a black sheep mask.

The video did not include audio, but Roman could practically hear what was going down. Neville greeted them from behind the counter. Abigail's lips didn't part. Dean rounded the corner and froze, immediately recognizing Abigail. He shouted something and backed up behind the counter. Neville gave him a curious stare.

Abigail still didn't speak.

Suddenly the towering man at Abigail's side reached over the counter and grabbed Neville with both immense hands by his shirt. He lifted a panicking Neville into the air and flung him all the way across the store. From a different angle, Roman watched in fear as Neville's body struck against a display table.

Dean tried swinging a punch at the lofty masked stranger, but he lifted Dean into the air, too. Instead of hurling him like a baseball, he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and compressed Ambrose against his body. As Cody had described it, like a bear hug. Dean's legs flailed beneath him as he fought for breath. The attacker held him in this chokehold until Dean stopped squirming. His legs went still. His body went limp.

Roman's eyes welled with tears. He felt like the sole viewer of a miserable horror movie, even with Neville right next to him. Neville watched on, the color completely drained from his face. He'd witnessed all of this, sort of, and it still frightened him.

The two watched as Abigail and her accomplice lay Dean's motionless body across the counter, then moved onto Neville. Once more he executed his chokehold, and Neville couldn't escape or squirm out of his hold before he, too, went unconscious. Roman bit down hard on his lip as he watched Cody step back into view, take in the horrific sight, then desperately try to lock himself in the office. After choking out his third victim of the night, Abigail watched her abettor deposit Cody and Neville's bodies in places not seen—not that well, anyway—from the outside of the store looking in.

Then they approached Dean again. The masked assailant scooped Dean into his arms and held him like a baby. Abigail looked down at the fallen Dean, fingers brushing through a few strands of his hair, then stared straight up into the camera.

And smiled.

As though she was smiling right at Roman. Cutting right through his heart.

She had Bray Wyatt's smile.

In the next minute, Abigail had retrieved a couple of classic movie posters off the wall. She grabbed a marker from a cup off the desk and scribbled out messages on the backs of each poster. Her partner in crime held onto Dean, watching her work at whatever she was doing. Then she lifted the first poster up so the camera had a complete view of it.

"HELLO ROMAN", it said with a smiley face underneath the letters. Roman's throat closed up. He couldn't breathe. He tried pulling air in through his nose, but all that did was make him sniffle.

"Jesus," Neville breathed.

Abigail held up the second poster, depicting another sinister message. "WANT TO PLAY? COME AND FIND US" Another eerie smiley face cut into him as deeply as Abigail's real smile.

Abigail folded the posters and tucked them under her arm, scooped down to kiss Dean's head, then she and her partner—whoever he was—another Wyatt brother?—left the scene of the attack.

But not before locking the door with a key stolen off the desk and turning the sign on the door from Open to Closed.

They'd done it on purpose. To keep people out. At least for long enough until they could escape.

But how had they gotten through town with an unconscious Dean in that man's arms?

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except where he was now.

"Who are they, Roman?" Neville's voice asked somewhere beside him.

"Police are coming," Cody's voice said somewhere behind him.

Both were mere echoes in the distance. Roman's vision was blurry. It was hard to focus. Hard to breathe.

He was scared completely out of each sense, but the pain of witnessing Dean getting kidnapped by those monsters ignited a black fire that consumed him from the inside out. Rage. Paper covers rock, fury triumphs over fright. How dare they, how dare they? Dean Ambrose was his man, and on his life he swore to protect Dean no matter what.

So far he was failing.

He had to get Dean back.

Protect him.

Save him.

But, came a haunting word that wouldn't leave him alone, how?