Lots of characters in this chapter. Some of them good, some of them, well, not so much!

Minnie1015, Wow, you were straight in with the review this time! I know, I've missed them too. Lauren and Dean are like putting on a comfy old sweater, well, except for all the cliffhangers (you're welcome!)

Mandy, Aww, thank you and I'm so glad you're happy to have them back, including Dean's craziness and kisses! We're all good there thanks, hope you're doing okay too and keeping your chin up. Big hugs.

sWeEtNeVeRmOrE120, Yay! Welcome to the party. My Dean and Lauren stories might be my favourite too!

Phoenix lord of rebirth, I know! I mean, he's makes a good PI, but an even better wrestler! I've missed writing him as a wrestler too. Expect lots of crazy in this story (as ever!)

Wolfgirl2013, Uh oh is right. Dean is definitely in trouble!

Skovko, When Bray Wyatt's involved, who really ever knows?!

Samcoo 12, Hmm, maybe, although Lauren might need to call on some help first. But I figured it was about time I shook things up!

Wrestlingfanforever, Thank you! As for the Police AU stories, I do have something in mind involving eyesight, but it just might not involve the patch (might have to do a pirate story for that, lol!)

XwwecoyoteX, Haha, oops, sorry! Hope you didn't worry about Dean too much this last week? If you did, you're in the same boat as Lauren, even though in her world it's only been a second (I'm so mean!)

HannonsPen, Hmm, well, there might be a cameo with Lauren's best friend (I've missed her too) and as for the cliffhanger, well, what can I say? I have a reputation to maintain (lol!)

xXBalorBabeXx, That's the million dollar question (and the one Lauren is asking too).

Here's our girl...

Already Gone

For about half a minute or possibly longer — or maybe even less because who the hell knew? I simply sat there and blinked at the rampway as if my husband and Bray Wyatt might suddenly pop up, or emerge from a black hole up in the sky box, or up on the titantron or anywhere.

But, nope. Instead there was nothing. They weren't there. They weren't anywhere, which JBL expressed with a frown.

"Hey, where'd they go?"

"Uh — ,"

Michael Cole was flipping through the papers on the desktop, which we were handed before the show with useful phrases and notes, but with one hand clamped down over his earpiece, which was his link to the back,

"Uh, and there you have it folks," he spluttered eventually, looking up at the camera as Matty and the team came charging back in, and wait, was he trying to wrap up the pay per view?

"Extraordinary scenes here in Cleveland tonight, with the return of Roman Reigns and a win for John Cena as we build to the Royal Rumble in less than a month."

Oh god. He was. He was rounding the show up, as if Dean hadn't disappeared in a hillbilly puff of smoke. I gaped at Matt who shrugged back, looking clueless and then I started to panic.

Well, I mean, panic more. Because where had they gone and why was no one else freaking?

"Dean?"

Cole spoke over me,

"And tune in tomorrow night, when we'll have all of the fallout from what happened here in Cleveland on Monday Night Raw. We'll see you there — ,"

"Dean?"

"Goodnight."

He turned his head and then coughed at Jerry Lawler, who hastily copied him,

"Oh, uh, goodnight."

"Be safe out there folks," JBL followed after, sounding totally baffled.

I ignored it all,

"Dean?"

In the audience behind us and with nothing more happening, the crowd began to realize that something was wrong and the weird hushed silence they had sort of been keeping began to turn instead into whistles and boos. Not that I heard them. I couldn't hear anything except the pounding of my heart in my eardrums.

"Dean?"

Ripping off my headphones as the camera light faded — which meant that we were finally, officially off air — I threw them down clumsily and then scrambled round the desk front to flip up the apron cover and bellow under the ring.

"Dean?"

I had no real idea what I expected to find there, but at the sight of more tables my poor thumping heart sank, to the point that had the Lost City of Z been hidden under there it would still have been a bummer.

"Where is he?" I wailed, dropping my head into my hands and then sobbing. Only once, but I guess it must have sounded pretty bad, since someone came and took hold of my shoulders.

"Hey, come on sweetheart, let's get you to the back."

I had kind of assumed that my savior would be Matty, but when I looked up he was crouched to my side, biting his lip and looking heartbroken for me as Jerry Lawler helped me up. No chuckling this time, which now that he wasn't, I kind of missed him doing, weirdly.

But not as much as I missed Dean.

"I don't get it," I blubbed, furiously wiping my face with my blouse cuff until Matt passed me a tissue, "Wh-where did they go?"

I had thought it had been bad when I had been kidnapped, but being left behind was infinitely worse. Or okay, so not worse but certainly just as horrific in its own special way.

"Do you think he's okay? Because what if Bray's taken him somewhere and is hurting him, or is feeding him to some crocodiles or — ,"

"Easy there, whoa," Lawler chuckled and yay, it was back again, strained sounding though it was. We were heading up the ramp, picking our way through the ominous ladders and past the bewildered and unhappy crowd, who were taking their frustration on the show's messed up ending out on anyone they could.

"This pay per view sucks."

"I want a refund."

"You call that finish?"

Jerry Lawler ignored them,

"Now you listen to me. That husband of yours is a natural brawler and one of the craziest guys I ever met, so if anyone can handle some one on one time with Wyatt, then it's the Lunatic Fringe, you hear me?"

I blinked,

"I guess."

"Good and besides, I bet Dean's back there in gorilla right now with not a scratch on him."

My heart leapt,

"Do you think?"

"I know," he grinned back at me, leading us right under the titantron and then flapping aside the curtain.

Backstage was a mess, post match towels for weary wrestlers to wipe their sweat on were scattered in Egyptian cotton clumps across the floor, alongside water bottles and set lists and papers. But they were nothing compared to the panicky buzz and the number of people rushing around wearing headsets and crashing into each other like half crazed bumper cars.

Dean wasn't there though. Jerry Lawler had lied on that one, since the only wrestlers back there were Randy Orton and Seth, who were stood in a shadowy corner with Stephanie.

Who was smirking.

Ugh. Of course she was. It was the only face she had, as if one day she'd been smirking and the wind had changed suddenly and stuck her like that. Half woman, half sneer. Lawler was trying to lead me right past her, probably to go and find the catering bar, but instead I lurched from his grasp with my fists clenched and then stamped in towards them,

"What have you done with him?" I snarled, trying super hard not to sound like I was crying, but failing because I was. I scrubbed a tear away.

Darn.

My stepmother smirked at me. Well, that is she smirked wider.

"Sorry Lauren, I'm not following. What have we done with who?"

"Dean," I hissed, "Because I know you must have had something to do with it. Did you help Bray out of the building? Or did you tell him to pull this off? Because Dean always ruins your plans for world domination and this time you wanted him out of the way?"

To my mind it was a perfectly reasonable assumption. Brilliant even. Like I was Hercule Poirot, cleverly unravelling the process of the killer at the climax of a story.

Stephanie laughed.

Or maybe not.

"So let me see if I've got your story straight here. You think that in order to stop your crazy husband, who Seth Rollins already beat at Hell in a Cell may I point out, we paid Bray Wyatt to start this whole feud up and interfere in his matches and throw him into steel steps, just so he could spirit him off like a fairy at the TLC pay per view?"

I faltered,

"Um, yes?"

Because laid out like that it did sound a little loopy. Stephanie looked to Randy and he snorted at her.

Dick.

In fact it was probably the closest I had been to Randy Orton since the near shotgun wedding thing five months before, when Stephanie and Hunter had tricked me into a bridal gown — long story, don't ask — and then dragged me out to the ring in a cockamamie scheme to get me hitched to their favorite and therefore link me to The Evil Authority for good. Dean had saved me though.

Dean.

I sucked a breath in and then tried not to wail.

"Oh Lauren," Steph smiled, falsely though like almost everything about her, including her breasts. Mike drop. "You do make me laugh. But I suppose you must get your sense of humor from your father. Don't you think Hunter?"

Crap.

I tensed up at once and then actually flinched as my father stepped past me in a rush of musky aftershave I had once thought was nice and like I had stupidly thought that he was before I'd realized he was evil. He moved closer to his wife and she smirked.

Quelle surprise.

"Steph, what's going on here?"

"Nothing sweetie," she simpered back at him, grazing her nails proprietorially across his chest, like I needed reminding that when it came to the two of us he had definitely, definitely picked her over me, "Lauren was just telling us a fascinating story about us being part of what happened out there. Since apparently we paid Wyatt to kidnap her husband."

She let out a trilly sounding, nasally laugh and behind her I noticed Seth look around uncomfortably. Kind of like he wished he was anywhere else. Which made two of us. Although personally if I'd had a choice in it, then I would rather have been safely snuggled up with Dean, watching the rain fall on the lake from our new house, through the floor to ceiling windows and with the dog by our side. I scrubbed off another tear as my father shrugged back at me,

"Well now why would she think that?"

I blinked at him.

Uh, hello? Shotgun wedding not ringing any bells here? Or what about the time he had kidnapped me? No?

Steph sneered,

"Because it's easier to blame us for everyone leaving than thinking that just maybe it's something to do with her. I mean, think about it Lauren. First Rollins, now Ambrose. And of course your mother."

Oh no she didn't.

I let out a screech and then lunged across the space so I could try and claw her eyes out — since nobody mentioned my much missed mom — but which in turn made a whole bunch of other things happen. The first of which was Stephanie skittering back, clearly thrown off by my feral reaction, which I'm not going to lie, felt ridiculously good and the second of which was Randy Orton stepping closer. Which was definitely not good. Uh oh. He reached out his hands and, okay, this was why I had never got into bitch fights, or so much as complained about bad restaurant food. Because it always wound up somehow causing more trouble. Meek and mild. God damn it, I should have stayed meek and mild.

Except then the third thing happened. A tattooed arm slung around me and pillowed me back against a muscular chest, which rumbled in cool honeyed tones from above me,

"Take it easy baby girl."

Uce.

I blew out a breath, which also dislodged a few lingering teardrops,

"She said — she said,"

"I know," he nodded, "I heard."

Roman's voice sounded low and super dangerous and in the moment I could have cried I was so happy he was there. Well, I mean honestly I could have cried anyway. But I could also have cried about the Big Dog being back, after nearly four months out with a hernia repair.

Randy meanwhile wasn't blinking, which was a good sign. But like Steph, he was smirking,

"Is there a problem here Reigns?"

"You tell me," Roman rumbled back warningly, tucking me behind him as the pair stepped nose to nose. Or nearly nose to nose, because Randy was like a building. Oh, and also super creepy too with his unfeeling eyes and his hard bony knuckles and with his weird obsession with me. Which I think was because I wasn't interested in him. Or in his stupid teeny tiny little wrestling trunks. Whereas most women, well, most women certainly were.

From somewhere behind us as the tension rose tenfold, my best work friend Matty moved in closer as well. Which was a really sweet gesture but essentially useless, since he was six foot six of nothing and about as camp as a row of tents. Although if nothing else then he could have probably bust loose a few dance moves to help us escape while Steph and Hunter were confused.

Clearing his throat Jerry Lawler laughed nervously,

"Hey, hey now. Whoa. Let's simmer things down."

Roman ignored him, In fact all of us ignored him. Or at least we would have done, had another voice not then rung out and made us turn in perfect synchronization, like the gathered ensemble cast of a comedy film. Something by the Farrelly Brothers, I was thinking. Or maybe John Landis.

"Ah, Lauren, there you are."

Huh?

Vince McMahon was striding towards us with a jittery production assistant trotting by his side, holding a can of Pepsi with a straw sticking out of it for him to lean in and drink from.

Because yep, it was definitely a comedy film. Well, I mean apart from my husband being kidnapped

Vince flung his arms out,

"Don't worry kid," grabbing my blouse front he pulled me towards him and then smushed me face first into a beige pinstripe suit, which smelt like moth balls and elderly man aftershave, like Old Spice or possibly Eau Sauvage For Men, "I've got my best people out looking for Ambrose and they're not going to rest until this place has been checked. We're going to find him and bring him back. Alright kiddo?"

I pulled back and then gasped in relief.

Sweet air.

"Um, thank you."

"Anything for my favorite step grandchild," he beamed at me, "And besides, Ambrose is one of the company's top draws right now. So I can't exactly have him up and going missing."

"But he was kidnapped," I replied, because at least from my perspective, that seemed a pretty vital distinction to make.

Vince coughed mildly,

"Well that — uh — hardly matters. Nothing matters just so long as we find him and get him back home. Oh and of course bring Wyatt to justice."

From the darkness a worn out looking runner came pounding up to us. A college leaver probably with a communications degree and lifelong dreams of fame and fortune, but who instead spent his days picking up sweaty towels and running around arenas looking for wrestlers of the hillbilly variety. He let out a breathless puff and then whispered something to the producer-come-Pepsi-holder, who then whispered something to Vince in turn and okay, forget the Farrelly brothers and John Landis . Because suddenly we were stood in a Tim Burton film.

Vince cleared his throat,

"Hmm. I see," he grunted, before turning back to me, "Well, it looks like they're not here. So I say we go off and sleep on it a little and then see if they turn up tomorrow night for Raw."

"What?" it was possible that my screech nearly blew out a window on a level above us it so was ungodly shrill, "But I thought you said they wouldn't rest until they found him."

Vince nodded,

"Which we will. Just not necessarily tonight and besides, for all we know it could have been Ambrose who was kidnapping Bray. Did you think about that?"

I mean, I hadn't. But only because it was the worst thought in the world. No way — no way would Dean have planned on going missing and not have told me about it first. He would have known I would freak out and more to the point he clearly hadn't told Roman, which didn't work either.

I gaped at him,

"But — but — ,"

Except our wackadoodle chairman had already moved onto new things. Like evidently his suddenly parched feeling throat,

"Where's that damn drink gone?" he snapped in frustration, nearly giving his poor assistant a shockable rhythm,

"Here sir."

Vince opened his mouth like a newborn baby blackbird and was rewarded with the tip of the all important Pepsi straw, which he sucked on for a second before re-buttoning his suit folds and striding off across gorilla beaming and shaking peoples' hands,

"Great show tonight folks."

I watched him go,

"But — but — ,"

That was really it? The search and rescue was over?

I stood gaping after him like a goldfish in a bowl. Or one of those super cute viral cat videos with an open mouthed kitty making an oh my gosh face.

"But — but — but — ,"

Stephanie meanwhile — unsurprisingly — was smirking. In fact they all were. Well all of them except Seth, who was stood looking mildly pissed off by the whole thing. Like we were making him late for a train he had to catch. Of course, a few months before I would have said that it was awkwardness from having to pretend that he no longer cared, which would have fed my thesis about how he still loved us. Only that had been before Hell in a Cell, when he had let J and J and Kane handicap the match up and had tried to throw Dean off the cage and had crawled in to claim the pin like a weasel when Bray Wyatt had shown up and slammed Dean down on his back.

Dean. Oh god.

I fought a sudden sob off but ended up sounding like a clucking hen instead and in response Roman put his big hands on my shoulders and then steered me away gently,

"Come on baby girl."

I went with him — numb and heavy footed like a child — away from Steph and Hunter and away from everyone as I slap-slapped my feet out into the hallway where the backstage crew were already packing up and beginning to box up the pay per view rigging.

I wanted to scream at them.

My husband is gone. What are you doing? Why aren't you out looking? Go. Go.

"Roman," I murmured instead, "Dean is missing."

He winced at me softly,

"I know baby girl. Believe me, I know."

"So what are we going to do? We have to find him. We have to," I spluttered, "Before Bray makes him one of them. Or feeds him to the fireflies or — ," here it came again, "Crocodiles or — ,"

"Alligators."

Huh?

I looked up with a frown. Roman was staring back at me with the edges of his lips curled, like he was trying not to smile, which he obviously was,

"Pretty sure it would be alligators instead of crocodiles baby girl. And besides, you know how much animals love uce. He'd have those suckers eating out of his hand in no time and then turn up with his very own crocodile army."

He winked at me and in response I snickered, because he had a point on that one.

I nodded,

"I guess,"

And besides which, it actually felt good to be laughing and, oh wait, no it didn't.

I started to cry.

"Hey," Roman pulled me in closer towards him and I broke down and sobbed into the front of his vest, thrusting my fists up into the buckles and then holding on tight,

"Ro-Roman,"

"I know," he soothed, "I know baby girl and we're going to find him. I promise, okay?"

"But how?" I wailed, "I mean, where are we even supposed to start looking? Because it's Bray and he's crazy, so he could be anywhere. Like in a swamp or — or some top secret lair, like in James Bond. Except, you know, more creepy and weird."

Roman blinked,

"Uh,"

From somewhere behind us, Matt cleared his throat and then sweetly rubbed my back, which my mom used to do when I was crying about something. Because, oh yeah, Matt was there. I had forgotten about that. I mean, you know, what with the ongoing breakdown and everything.

"I'll go and round up the rest of the runners," he was saying to Roman as I blubbered and sniffed and generally wiped snot and teardrops across his ring gear, "Probably best to go over this whole place again. Make sure Vince's guys checked it out properly."

Roman nodded in gratitude,

"Thanks."

"And chin up, okay sweetie?" Matty chirped at me brightly, "We'll find him. I mean, if Dean doesn't find us first, because any minute now he's going to come around that corner and ask what's going on."

People kept saying that, and for a second or two I almost believed it.

Except —

Except he didn't.

The runners checked everywhere and so did Roman and me and a janitor named Ramon, who we managed to rope in to help look through the basement and the crawl space and the parking lot and the elevator shaft. But Vince was right and Matt was wrong. There was no Dean and no place left to look for him.

Which meant there was only one thing left to do.

Next week Lauren gets an unlikely offer of help. See you there...