Smackdown came. Smackdown went. They patted him on the back and told him what a great job he did. People he didn't even know came up and shook him by the hand. Even an approving nod from Vince was sent his way when he glimpsed the boss at the end of a hallway. Sami and Dolph had near carried the entire show for him. Owens had demanded a match against Zayn as a result of the altercation in the office and Seth had granted it – providing that whoever won, went through to the next round of the tournament that he'd taken to the stage to announce earlier that night. Sheamus had been less than thrilled.

Sami had damn fought tooth and nail and damn it he'd done what he needed, and he'd pinned the asshole.

Dolph hadn't been so lucky against Rusev. But the match had been a sight to behold and the two wrestlers had half an hour of pure wrestling history in that ring. Seth had been beyond proud of his friend and when they'd spoken backstage, even the Bulgarian brute himself, had come up to the blond wrestler, grunted and shook his hand before stomping off again.

Like all nights, it had ended in the bar. There were no other calls from Dean. No messages. No hint of where he was. No hint of whether or not he was safe. Sami had promised to let them know if he heard any rumours in the locker room. Paige and Roman…well he'd given them the night off. When he'd found them later, already at a table, already with shot glasses face down to the wood, he knew what kind of night it was going to be. His goddess…she was struggling. So, he'd carried her up to bed, leaning heavily on the cane for support and he'd laid her down to sleep.

But he would not sleep at all. He watched that phone screen all hours.


Ohio was the next stop.

They arrived on the Friday afternoon and bunkered down in the hotel, determined to try and form a game plan. To try and get some semblance of rest.

His strength was returning. Day by day. When he heaved himself out of each hotel bed, he did so with a little less ache, a little less pain than the morning before. Paige was struggling with sleep, a bottle of bourbon stood resolute on the bedstand next to her form. She was on her stomach, face covered by a net of thick black hair, her breathing a little shallow, but nothing to worry about. Each night saw shots of the strong stuff before bed. She had the stomach for it, and Seth knew it helped halt the dreams. She'd woken twice now, screaming for Dean in the middle of the night – she had such terrors that she was convinced that their brother was already dead. It took all of the false reassurances that Seth could muster to coax her back to the realm of sleep. Afterward, he'd sit there, watching her, feeling that same dread which terrorised her, settle in his heart.

Roman was only next door and yet when they met each morning, ready to go for the light run which was slowly restoring Seth's leg muscles, he showed the same signs of lack of rest. All of them were grey and haggard.

It was Tuesday.

Seth glanced over Paige's sleeping form and made a silent promise to himself that, from now on, he was hiding the whiskey. She had an addictive personality and if she got too deeply into the habit, he knew it would consume her completely. The bedsheets were gathered around his naked body and he moved to sit up, stretching out his fucked-up leg. The surgery had left him scarred forever, but already; he could see improvement. He could feel the muscles stretching, tensing. Now he held out his hands. The broken wrist was proving more stubborn, stiff and aching, he knew he'd come back too soon with it. The other hand, with its broken bones, had healed well. It still cramped up. But, like his shoulder, he knew he could get used to the frozen feeling deep within the joints.

His skull…it was still delicate.

But as he looked over himself, he felt a degree of pride.

He'd been through the seven levels of hell, he'd fought with the devil himself and he'd emerged from those dark halls. Yes, he was scarred, yes some of those cuts would never truly heal. But they'd not killed him. Triple H, Stephanie, Wyatt, they'd all tried to drag him to an early grave. They'd all been determined not to just end his career…but to end him too. Seth pushed himself out of the bed. His body obeyed with a crunch and snap of bone. Carefully, he moved across to the full-length mirror next to the small wardrobe. Through the slight light of the thin curtains, he glanced upon his reflection.

He took himself in, really looked. He saw his face, nose out of joint, he saw where the blond in his hair, he saw his dark eyes. He raised a hand and ran fingertips over his jaw and his cheekbones, around his eye sockets and gently traced them across his skull, feeling multiple strips of new flesh where so many chunks had been knocked out of him over the years. The fingers moved over his neck now, over shoulder and collar bone, down arm and pectoral, reacquainting himself with the body which had become so alien to him. All of his muscular build up had gone. He was slender now – not skinny, but it was a remarkably different build than to what he'd been so used to and worked so hard for.

His abdominal muscles had relaxed – he wasn't flabby, but that definition was fading. His legs too. The only part of him which didn't seem to have changed at all was his groin. Thank fuck for that.

Seth cocked his head to one side, a slight snap of cartilage as he did so. This new body…it wasn't so bad. It was different, it was strange and it was a change he'd never expected that he'd have to face. But he could live with it, he decided. He could accept it. Maybe one day, he'd get the chance to build it all up once more, a chance to become strong again. A chance that he could climb back between those ropes and feel the mat under his feet and the incredible governance that being in the squared circle gave him.

Until then…until then, he had a family to care for and a locker room to lead.

The carpet beneath his toes and the soles of his feet was rough.

When they hit Pennsylvania next week, he was getting them somewhere with softer floors.

Behind him, Paige shifted in her sleep, hair peeling back from her face and the sheets tangling around her perfect body. She was muttering, but the murmurs were nothing new to him. He could decipher enough to know that she was once again, dreaming about Dean. Part of him still held that unreserved jealousy – that ugly sensation that came with the understanding that the woman who had agreed to be his wife was thinking about another man. But it wasn't sexual. It wasn't sensual and it wasn't full of longing. He knew, because she'd told him, the last dream she'd had…Wyatt had forced her to watch as they'd ripped Dean to pieces, and then force fed her the remains.

He watched, for a few seconds longer. Slowly, but surely, she once again drifted into a fitful sleep.

As quietly as he could, he pulled out draws, grabbing and pulling on boxers and running shorts and a t. He struggled with socks and did up his running shoes, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and tucking his hair under a woollen hat. As he tucked his key card in his back pocket, he tugged his hoodie from its hook and made his way out of the door.

Roman was already waiting for him.

'Morning brother,' Seth said quietly, and greeted him with a short hug. 'How you holding out?'

Roman shrugged and let out a deep sigh, 'Been better. Managed most of the night though, so that's an improvement. You heard anything new?'

Seth shook his head, 'It's been radio silence since Wednesday…I just wish we had some way of talking to him again. I tried ringing back god knows how many times on the number he called me on…but Wyatt must have confiscated the phone. Something must have happened. I refuse to believe he'd avoid talking to us.'

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Their eyes caught and an understanding passed between them, a conscious knowing that something had to be done. That they couldn't wait any longer.

'I'll try and collar Harper tomorrow. He's scheduled to wrestle, I made sure of it. If he won't give me an answer then I'm smuggling myself into that truck of his -,'

'But what if Wyatt comes too? What if they bring Dean? What do we do? Seth, we both know what he's like. If Dean's decided that its in our best interests for him to be with the Wyatt family, there ain't nothing we can do to change his mind. He'd rather die than let us drag him out of that compound or out of Wyatt's slimy hands.'

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Seth knew that Roman was right.

Dean was the most stubborn creature to have ever walked God's green earth.

There was no changing his mind once it was set.

He had concrete will that none, even the people he loved most, could unearth.

'We'll just have to find a way to convince him that we're safe. It's Paige that he's most concerned about, I just know it. I think…he believes that if he's with the Wyatts, they'll leave her alone.' Seth leaned against the wall uneasily, 'But if Wyatt truly sees Paige as Sister Abigail, then it's only a matter of time before he loses interest in Dean, and sets his sick sights on her once more.'

Once upon a time he might have just believed Wyatt to have been very, very unwell. But what was transpiring was more than someone who needed help with their mental health – it had become a deeply personal battle that was nothing to do with an internal struggle. Wyatt truly, completely and utterly believed in some supernatural force. He'd felt it when he'd laid bound on that hard floor, listening to him preach. It had been reflected in his bug like eyes. Wyatt believed in Sister Abigail so strongly, that he'd made her real enough in his world, that he needed a physical representation of her to serve.

Why he'd chosen Paige was a mystery.

Perhaps it was because of her raven hair and her pale skin. Maybe it was because she was a demon between the ropes. Seth didn't know. The wallpaper behind him felt thin and cheap. If he scratched at it with his fingernails it might just peel away. The wall itself was cold, despite the fact that the air already felt like they were set for a warm day. They were the only sounds in that hallway, hell, they seemed to be the only source of noise in the whole hotel.

'You know Dean doesn't see things like that though…he's the most willing sacrificial lamb because he follows his heart not his head,' Roman ran a hand through the dark trestles of his hair and – plucking a thin band from his wrist – he tied to back, out of his way. 'We're not going to save him by standing here worrying though…let's get this run over with. We have the whole day ahead to try and come up with a plan for tomorrow.'

Resigned, Seth nodded and pushed himself off of the wall, 'Sami said that if we meet him halfway he'll join us with Bren.'

Mr Zayn himself had chosen to rent a private apartment rather than a hotel room from the pre-approved sheet that they'd all been dispensed. Concerned about his own safety, he'd even agreed to look after Bren as she'd shown such defensive prowess. It was a smart move. Owens was out for blood – if not Seth's then the next best thing. Their friends were, even with the absence of the authority, targets. Seth couldn't protect everyone, even with his position as Smackdown GM.

Roman actually chuckled then, 'I swear that poor dog has spent more time being passed round than actually looked after by you.'

'Tell me about it. Wish I could have her around all the time, I think she's a really calming influence on Paige. But – hotels. You know how it works.'

Over the years he'd known many other wrestlers take pets on the road. How they'd fucking managed to find places that let them in with their animals he'd never know.

'C'mon. Let's get out of here. I want to be back again before she wakes up and finds the bed empty.'


Sami wasn't outside waiting for them when they arrived outside the entrance way to his apartment. The air was warm, and the city of Toledo was blooming into life. The sun was burning the edge of the horizon and Seth could already feel its kiss on the back of his neck. But even that dawn embrace couldn't settle the unease in his stomach.

'Think we should buzz him again?'

'Couldn't hurt,' Roman muttered and moved to the door, pressing his finger on the buzzer for apartment three. The sound was grating. They waited a full two minutes after the noise had ended but still, nothing.

Seth swallowed. 'Maybe we should…see if we can get in? Check on him?'

But before they could make a move, Seth's phone started to vibrate. He blinked and reached into his running shorts, pulling out the mobile. The screen was brightly lit and it looked to be Sami ringing him. Cautiously, he answered.

'Sami? You ok brother? We're outside -,'

'Sami can't come to the phone right now.'

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over him and he realised that he was very, very, very quickly getting sick of this entire situation. His face collapsed into a stern frown and he didn't give two shits that they were in the middle of a sidewalk and that members of the public were walking past him from all sides. He was pissed off.

'Owens I swear to fucking god -,' Seth held his head in a hand, 'If you're going to tell me you've kidnapped Sami or something ridiculous like that I'm going to do more than fire you. This is getting dull. It's getting repetitive, can't you authority assholes change the fucking number? I'm about this close to -,'

'If you know what's good for zayn you'll shut the fuck up rollins,'

Seth rubbed his forehead. And then, having little patience he nodded toward Roman and mouthed the words kick the door in. Roman, looked far too keen about the idea and having not had the opportunity to damage anything or anyone for far too long, took one sweeping look at the surrounding area, and with great glee, started to slam his foot against the door.

'What do you want, Owens?'

'I want you. Seth. I want you in the ring. Tomorrow night. I want you toe to toe with me. Face to face. I want -,'

'You do realise I have far bigger shit on my plate right now than giving into your crappy demands, right? I have a show to run. I have a crazed cult to deal with. I have my own sodding body to try and heal and I have a locker room to manage. You're one, tiny, insignificant cog in all of this Owens I genuinely don't have time for this or you. Whatever you've done with Sami, just let him go. It's not. Fucking. Worth it.'

'Oh, I think it is Seth -,' somewhere in the background, Seth swore he could have heard something, a TV maybe? 'Because I'll get what I want, or you can -,'

The door gave way.

They didn't waste time.

Roman lead the charge and Seth hurried, best he could after him. He hung up the phone and when they found themselves outside of room three, he budged past Rome to press his ear against the door. Inside, he could hear familiar growls. They were definitely in there. He backed away and nodded at Roman. He didn't need telling twice. He raised his massive foot and – despite the running trainers having less impact than the combat boots he usually favoured – slammed it three times against the door.

It gave way, the lock splintering and Rome near fell through, but caught himself before falling ass over tit.

The scene before them was…a level of annoyance that Seth wasn't aware that he could reach.

There was no one there.

Just Bren.

She was alone, barking, and when she saw both Roman and Seth, she hurtled over and instantly started fawning, desiring attention. The room looked like it hadn't been touched. Not an item was out of place, no sign of chaos. No sign of forced entry (bar their own). It almost looked as if Sami himself had just up and left. But there was no sign of him. Weary, they searched each room, Bren staying resolute at Seth's ankle. She looked like she'd had a rough time. Her wild tangle of hair had grown even more unruly. He leaned down and petted her head gently as he moved from living room to kitchen.

'You're a good girl…but where did they go Bren?'

Suddenly, his phone rang again.

Sami's number. Again. Seth hit loudspeaker.

'Owens I fucking swear -,'

'Seth?'

'Sami?' Seth's eyes widened. 'Sami are you alright?'

'Yeah…this fuck is very unoriginal in his attempts at mental and physical torture.'

Dear God, he hoped he was joking.

'Where are you?'

'Er…somewhere in the Huntingdon Centre, look Seth yo–'

There was a short sound of struggle, the sound of fist meeting muscle and suddenly the voice had changed.

'Hello Seth.'

The sound of that voice sent cold shivers through his bones. He stood stock still. Frozen completely in place. His breath hitched in his lungs. The world collapsed all around him and nothing else existed but the mocking, cruel tone of the voice slipping through the phone. He'd not expected to hear it again. He'd not wanted to. He'd thought it would be a year, longer even. But he was wrong. He'd been complacent. He'd been stupid to believe that his problems couldn't stack into an indomitable tower, one he was incapable of scaling.

'It's been a while, hasn't it? Have you missed me?'

Hunter.