Here we are again then folks and time to catch up with Dean. Hope you're all safe and well out there!

Rebel8954, Glad you like Seth's dynamic here! I love me some pissy, bratty Seth, but at the end of the day there's no one he's closer to than Dean and Roman, even after everything he's put them through (doesn't mean he has to pretend he likes them though!)

Wolfgirl2013, Haha, you're welcome. Who doesn't love a bit of Scooby Doo?

Minnie1015, Just call me The Cliffhanger Queen from now on! Also, can you imagine how cute a wereDean would be?!

Mandy, Aww, sorry about your bad news last week. I hope this week has been a little better for you? Lauren and Seth are so much fun to write. Plus it's always good to give Seth more layers. I didn't get enough of that when the Shield first broke up. Hugs.

Skovko, *Shakes fist* darn those squirrels. Thank goodness Roman is so vigilant and can spot them all!

Phoenix lord of rebirth, Seth doesn't even know what he's doing at this point. I think he's in a head vs. previously non existent heart situation. But at least it's fun for us!

xXBalorBabeXx, Don't worry, I won't keep you in suspense any longer!

Back to the action...

Answer To The Master

Clearing the door like a Kentucky Derby winner and possibly — okay, definitely — elbowing Seth, I crossed the dingy storeroom in a clumsy looking stumble and then dropped to my knees beside my unresponsive spouse, who was still in the black tank and jeans he had been wearing the last time I had seen him, twenty four hours before.

His beard had grown though. Well, I mean, just a little, since obviously he'd been a bit too busy to shave, but which meant that his stubble ground into my fingers as I cupped his red hot cheeks and tried to lift his head up,

"Dean?"

He grumbled in response, which wasn't much but at least it was something and so I did the only thing I could think of in response. The one thing I knew that always broke in through his anger and maybe therefore his unconsciousness.

I kissed him.

Nothing spectacular. It wasn't wet or earth shattering. Because, you know, he'd been kidnapped and was out for the count. Not to mention that Matt had a camera trained on us, but it was deep and I meant it and kind of needed it as well considering I had spent the past twenty four hours convinced that I might never get to do it again.

Somewhere in the background Matt cleared his throat loudly and then whispered in a hiss that echoed back off the walls,

"Uh, okay guys, can we take a straw poll here? Because at what point does it become not trying to wake him up and turn into a good old fashioned sexual assault?"

Oh god.

He was right, the kiss was getting us nowhere fast. Because what if Bray had hit Dean in the head irreversibly? Or given him a whole bunch of super strong pills? Or maybe a horror movie full frontal lobotomy, or —

"L'ren?"

I nearly squealed in triumph,

Yes.

Dean was blinking with groggy eyes at me. Or, okay make that groggy and very surprised looking eyes, since he looked like he had maybe seen the ghost of Elvis Presley. Or his wife in the compound of a hillbilly loon.

"Fuck," pulling away from me he shook his head wildly, "Princess get outta here. You can't be here."

I blinked,

"What? Why?"

Because didn't he want us to bust in and save him? Or move into our new house on the lake front next week? Oh god, was this his way of trying to get rid of me?

"In case Wyatt comes back and finds you here."

"Oh."

That made sense.

"I promised before I wasn't gonna let him touch you, an' I meant it okay? He's not gettin' you again. Now Princess please, will you get the fuck outta here?"

"No," I shook my head and pouted, "Not without you."

Honestly, it was looking like a full blown domestic, or, you know, as close to one as Dean and I got, which is probably why Roman cleared his throat in the doorway and then hunkered down next to us.

Dean blinked at him,

"Uce?"

Because oops, I may have been blocking the others with my head and all the kissing.

Roman winked at him,

"Hey babe."

Boy was Dean in for a surprise when he spied Matty and the camera and oh yeah, the former brother who had stomped on his head.

"Know where Bray's keeping the keys to these suckers?" Roman asked, meaning the handcuffs.

Dean shook his head,

"Nope. Never even seen 'em. Tried to bust loose the old fashioned way. Didn't work out so well."

He shot us a tired looking grin and then wiggled his hands so that the cuffs banged the meshing and showed up his wrists, red and bloodied from where he had obviously tried to pull out of them and break himself free.

Ugh —

I kissed him again, but this time made it much sweeter and deeper, since I wasn't really sure how else I could help.

"Fuck," Dean mumbled a second time when we parted, "Might need a couple more of those when we get out."

"Done," I whispered, as somewhere behind us Matt fired off another moody piece to cam.

"Operation Save Dean Ambrose. Hour ten. Location? Deep in the heart of the hillbilly lair, where the rescue party has now found the target and are attempting an extraction."

Dean's head bobbed up,

"The fuck?"

For a beat it was a toss up about what most surprised him when he looked over my shoulder. Was it the camera, or the choice of words, since Matt had clearly moved on from narrating a wildlife feature to taking his cue from war movies instead.

Because, target? Extraction? What was he filming? The Hurt Locker?

Except as it turned out it was neither of those, since Dean had found another problem entirely and it wasn't the filming.

"The fuck is he doing here?"

Matt put the camera back down with an eye roll, like he was handling a bitchy actor,

"Look, Vince sent me, okay? Because believe it or not when two of the company's top wrestlers and oh yeah, the entirety of its female commentary team, suddenly bail out in the middle of a taping, I think it's safe to say people might notice. Don't you? So the old man just wanted to cover all bases. Plus I'm here for Lauren."

Dean glared at him,

"Not you," because his hands were cuffed he had nothing to point with and so settled instead for jerking his head towards Seth, who had more or less stood back in the doorway. But not far enough back to be invisible, "Him. What the fuck is that piece 'a crap doin' here?"

Uh oh.

Yep, he was definitely pissed. Although weirdly it was kind of nice seeing him fiery, because at least that meant Bray hadn't broken him too bad.

"Think it's funny, huh asshole? Or do you like seein' me like this?"

Seth blinked in surprise,

"What? No, of course not. Look, I came here to help, okay?"

"Help?" Dean snorted, "Like you helped bury my head into a concrete cinder block? Or like you helped when Bray Wyatt crashed our Hell in a Cell match and beat the crap outta me? That your kinda help?"

Holy crap, I loved him angry.

Was that weird?

Probably. But I really, really did. Almost as much as when he grinned and bit his tongue tip, which made his dimples pop out.

Mmm. I loved them the most.

Clearing my throat I tried to push back my lustiness. What was wrong with me anyway? He was chained up for god sakes and besides which, for once, Seth wasn't being an asshole.

I mean, not that I knew of.

"Um, actually Seth found where you were. He went to Luke Harper right after Bray grabbed you and got him to tell us where the compound was."

"He did?" Dean blinked back at me, scrunch faced in confusion, which was honestly so cute I could have squealed at him.

"Uh huh."

"Fuck," he huffed after a moment's contemplation, since that had long been his favorite word and not that I could blame him for being bewildered since it had been a pretty wild twenty four hours, "So does that mean I can't hate him? Because honestly, I still wanna hate him."

Seth frowned,

"Hey – ,"

"Then you go ahead and keep on hating him brother," Roman rumbled back with a teasing little grin, tousling Dean's hair which had already been sticky, but which he managed to make stick up like a cockerel in heat.

Seth threw his hands up,

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'm an asshole, alright? Now can we get out of here?"

"Love to," Dean huffed, before rattling his cuffs again, "But in case you forgot I'm a little freakin' tied up."

Seth rolled his eyes,

"I know that moron. Which is why we need to split up and look for the keys. Roman, take Matt and go and check the top floor out. Lauren, you're with me."

We all protested at once.

"What? I can't go. Who'll film all the action?"

"Somebody needs to stay here with Dean."

"Hey, no one is takin' my wife freakin' anywhere. Least of all you Rollins."

Seth pinched his brow,

"Fine. Roman take Matt. Lauren, stay here with Ambrose. Everybody happy?"

"Uh, I'm not," Matt put up a hand, the one that was holding the video camera, which for a second got nothing but rafters and grime. Roman reached out and then pushed it back down again as Matt blinked, "But – ,"

Roman shook his big head, then carefully untangled the precious piece of hardware, which he handed to me for safe keeping.

"Come on man."

Steering him from the room with a hand on his neckline, kind of like a lioness holding a cub, Roman eased my willowy friend across the threshold as Matt started to panic,

"Please. I'm too young to die and there are still too many awesome things I have to do yet. Like become the first gay on The Bachelor and getting Tom Cruise to come out of the closet and being given a star on the Gay Walk of Fame."

Not that I blamed him for being reluctant, since even Seth stood in the doorway for a beat, looking just a teensy tiny bit nervous as Matt's protests echoed off the walls then shrank away.

Dean smirked back at him like an ass. But a cute one, which made it okay.

"Problem asshole?"

"No," Seth snapped. Or wait a minute, lied. He was definitely lying,

"Because from here it kinda looks like you're scared."

Seth's head snapped round to shoot Dean a death glare so quickly that his brittle bleached streak nearly broke off, which I guessed would eventually be precisely what happened.

Middle of a match and just –

Poof.

No more blonde.

"For your information," he shot back at us testily, pulling his stupid leather glovelets back on, like an art thief plotting to steal the Mona Lisa, or an elderly woman before an afternoon drive, "I happen to like to think about my next move before I make it. Since unlike you I'm not a god damn lunatic. I'm measured and controlled and – ,"

A bird fluttered suddenly, probably the same lost pigeon from before, but as it cooed and then flashed past Seth's face in the corridor, he threw up his arms and let out a nasally scream.

"Argh – ,"

Dean snorted,

"Ho sure. Yeah you're real controlled and measured. Princess, you see how controlled and measured Rollins is?"

"Fuck you Dean," Seth huffed in response to him, running his leather gloved hands through his hair, which I guessed was a last minute spot check for bird poop, before stomping off and slamming the door behind him.

Bang.

The noise blasted out like a bomb around the warehouse and then echoed back in through the crumbling bricks and the mesh that Dean's bruised wrists were cuffed up to, which jangled at his back and I guessed must have hurt, since he hissed a sharp curse out and then slammed his back into it to try and make it stop.

"Oh god," I panicked, "Are you okay? Can I help or ooh, I know, sing to distract you?"

Sing?

Okay, so maybe not my best idea, since as anyone who had stood next to me in choir could attest to, my vocal stylings weren't much known for their beauty or pitch. But still, I wasn't sure what else I could offer.

Except maybe more kissing?

Dean grunted,

"M' alright. An' anyway Princess, you just like freakin' bein' here is good enough for me. I mean, don't get me wrong. I hate the fact you have to freakin' be here, breathin' in stale hillbilly air an' that shit. But holy fuck am I ever glad to see you. For a second back there I thought Bray had grabbed you as well."

"No. Just you," I whispered, snuggling against him and breathing in his scent for the first time in days. Or for the first time in a day and a half to be specific. But which felt like way more.

"So, how long have I been out?"

"Thirty three hours and twenty six minutes,"

Not that I had been counting or anything of course. Shuffling himself into a better position, which bumped my head up on his beautiful abs, Dean made a face and then snorted back wryly,

"Fuck. No wonder I need to take a piss."

His hair was still stuck up in a crazy looking Mohawk from where Roman had tousled it fondly before, so I reached up and carded it back against his head. Kind of like it had been back in his Shield days, or like Charlie Sheen had in the original Wall Street film.

I bit my lip,

"Missed you,"

"Missed you too Princess," Dean snorted back at me, which made his dimples pop out.

Yay.

Somewhere in my head a million tiny little Laurens were screaming like schoolgirls and running up and down, while red flashing lights and sirens went off around them.

Awooga, awooga.

Dimples off the starboard bow.

In fact I was so busy listening to the sirens that I almost missed the footsteps coming our way. Hopefully with the key so we could get the heck out of there and move into our beautiful new house by the lake.

I bounced up grinning,

"Here they come. I bet it's Roman. I mean it has to be right?"

"Lauren wait — ," Dean rasped out, but just a fraction too late to stop me flinging the door wide and blinking up into a bearded looking face.

"Little bird?"

Okay, make that a bearded and very surprised face.

Oh and ugly. It was that as well.

Crud.

Bray stepped towards me and I skittered back wildly, my blood running cold.

"How did you get in here?"

"I – ,"

In his hand he had a bag of what smelt like Chinese food, which I guessed he had bought so he could share some with Dean. Or else sit in front of him and eat super slowly while my husband drooled hungrily. Yep. That was probably it.

I tailed off and then squeaked, which wasn't an answer and Bray stepped in closer, his tone darkening.

"I said, how did you get in here Mockingbird?"

Dean strained hard against the cuffs,

"Fuck. Bray. Leave her alone. She isn't a freakin' part of this. Wyatt."

"How?" Bray lashed out and grabbed my wrist and my squeak became a full blooded scream of terror which took me back to the very first time I had been grabbed, on the night that Bray and his two evil henchmen had tried to frame Dean for torching Steph's car.

Those had been some good times.

Kidding.

"Who told bird about my hiding place?" Bray barked, losing his patience and starting to shake me as Dean struggled and yelled and tried to twist himself loose. Blood was running down his arms from the handcuffs, which I took as a bad sign for my prognosis.

"Fuck. Bray. I swear to freakin' god m' gonna rip your weasel eyes out an' then thread 'em on a chain for your sister to wear if you don't let go of my fuckin' wife asshole."

"Who told you bird. Who?"

It was all getting too much. What with the shouting and the shaking and the heart attack that I was ninety percent sure was about to rip through my veins, which is why I did the only thing I could think of.

I buried my kneecap into Wyatt's balls.

"Oof – ,"

That worked. His hands fell away in an instant, as his horrible bearded face turned a shade of bright pink. Or, ooh no, maybe a weird type of purple, like a cross between a blueberry and a hairy eggplant, which I probably would have spent more time considering, had my husband not barked at me,

"The fuck are you doin'? Lauren, run."

I nodded,

"Right,"

Then made a mad launch towards the doorway that I felt would have probably put Black Beauty to shame, but which turned out to be, well, not so impressive, since Wyatt simply snagged up my ankle.

"Ooh crap."

I fell head first down onto the concrete, breaking my fall with my arms, which really hurt. Not that I had time to think about that though as Bray clambered up me and then straddled my hips. Dean was going half wild in the background,

"Fucker. Don't touch her. Wyatt, fuckin' let her go."

"I'm sorry little bird," Bray muttered above me as I wriggled super clumsily onto my back, which, yep okay, so maybe wasn't the best plan since it meant I got a view of him up close.

Way too close.

His hair slapped my face and I shuddered on instinct. Oh god. It was slimy. Was it supposed to be like that? Or was that some sort of poisonous gunk from the mothership?

I tried to push him off me,

"Bray please – ,"

"I'm sorry little bird," he repeated again, which was super reassuring. Because what in the world was he apologizing for? For nabbing my husband, or the greasy wet hair thing? "But see, no one can know where Bray's hiding place is. Because, if they know, it isn't a secret and Bray needs his secrets."

He put his hands around my throat and every last drop of blood left in my body ran cold in an instant,

"No. Bray please. You can't."

Except that the can't part came out in whisper as he cinched in his fingers. Because, oh god –

He was.

Bray Wyatt was actually, physically choking me, while my husband looked on and went crazy.

"Bray. Shit. Don't do this. Jesus Christ. Bray, stop. I'll do anythin'. Fuck. Take me asshole. You hear me? Take me."

Honestly, I loved that he was trying to help me. Well, as much as he could with his wrists ripped to shreds and weirdly I was even sort of glad he was with me, since it meant that, you know, I wouldn't have to die alone.

Hmm. Was that too dark?

But I mean, it was true though, I was really super glad that he was stuck there with me and bitching and yelling and grumbling at me,

"Princess. Fuck. Lauren. You have to listen to me. Fight."

I mean, not that it did any good. I was trying, but Bray was too big and too angry and too strong. My lungs began to heave and the whole world turned purple.

Hey, like an eggplant.

Then nothing.

Crack.

Huh?

I blinked as a spade flew in out of nowhere. No really, a spade, as in an actual spade and creamed Bray right in the back of his cerebrum, like a dart hitting the middle of a big ugly board.

Bullseye.

Bray seemed to freeze, but for a second nothing happened. He just kept on sitting there, straddling me, with his big meaty hands clamped in around my tonsils and a murderous sneer on his spit covered face. Except, then suddenly his eyes slid off me and crossed over above his nose — which was a heck of a party trick — and then his hold on my throat seemed to slacken, just enough to let me breathe.

I sucked in a gulp of air and then coughed as too much of it flooded my system.

But ooh, it was good though.

The spade jabbed out again and poked Bray nervously under a man boob, at which point the weight on my legs slithered off as Wyatt toppled over like a sack of potatoes and then landed in front of my rescuer.

I coughed,

"Seth?"

"Uh," he blinked, looking more surprised than I was, which, unless I had seen it, I would have said was pretty hard. His brown eyes shot up beneath his not snapped off bleached strip and for a second they almost looked concerned, "Are you alright?"

Propping myself up onto my elbows, I nodded back shakily.

"Uh – uh huh."

Somewhere behind us there was another rush of footsteps and I tensed in preparation for a hillbilly cult or those white shrouded virgins I'd been waiting for earlier.

Then Roman stepped in and blinked,

"What in the world – ,"

Not that I could blame him for looking bewildered, given the weird sort of scene in the room. Like something straight out of an Agatha Christie.

Murder in the Compound.

He frowned,

"What the hell is going on?"

In his fingers he was holding a jangling key cuff, which seemed to wink across the room in the light, since the second he saw it Dean started going crazy and pulling at the meshing,

"Uce. Fuck. Lemme out. Get these things off me. I mean it. Get 'em off me."

"Whoa. Hey, take it easy babe."

Ducking down next to him Roman slotted the key in and then wiggled it clumsily until the handcuffs unlocked. At which point Dean ripped out of them wildly and then scrambled across the concrete to haul me into his arms.

"Fuck. Ho Princess. I fuckin' thought he was gonna kill you."

"M-me too," I croaked, nuzzling deep into his chest and not even caring that his handcuff bloodied fingers were roughly and relentlessly stroking my hair. Somewhere in the background, Matt panted in finally, holding his stomach and wincing.

"Cramp. Cramp – oh."

The video camera, which had been lost in the madness, was lying on its side by the step for the door so Matty picked it up and then brushed all the dust off. The red light was still on. Had it been filming all this time?

"Holy fuck," Dean kissed my head fiercely as I reached up and grabbed a tight hold of his wrist, needing to physically glue myself to him.

"Dean?"

"You're okay Lauren. Jesus fuck. You're okay."

I shook my head.

That wasn't the problem. Or at least, not the main one. Because I knew I was okay and I knew that Dean was okay and that we all were.

Well, almost all of us.

"What do we do about Bray?"

Find out how I choose to wrap up Dean's 2014 rivalry with Bray Wyatt next week folks!