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D-Von Dudley looked anxiously at the little sheet of paper in his hand, checking it once more before going back to watching the numbers on the hospital room doors as he walked down the hall. After a few more doors, he stopped in front of number 261. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand to the door knob - but was overcome with nerves and let it drop again, sighing. He double checked the hastily scrawled numbers on the sheet of paper in his hand before crumpling it up and stuffing it in his pocket. As he lifted his hand again, the door opened before him.
"D-Von?"
"Hey, Spike," he nodded, his raspy voice just above a whisper. "I got your message."
"I..." Spike trailed off, a surprised look on his face and a dollar bill in his hand. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. I was just going to get some coffee. BuhBuh's inside."
"Is he awake?"
Spike frowned and looked at his shoes, kicking the ground absently. "No."
"Oh," D-Von responded shortly.
"But he's been sleeping for hours," Spike added quickly. "He should be up any time now."
"Ok," he nodded again. "Go get some coffee. I'll be in there."
"Ok," Spike agreed, then hesitated slightly. "BuhBuh'll be happy to see you."
"I know," D-Von acknowledge half-heartedly, turning from Spike to the room as Spike left. D-Von involuntarily winced at the sight of his halfbrother laid up in a hospital bed, connected to obnoxious beeping machines. D-Von came closer to the bed, examining everything, then looked down to BuhBuh's closed eyes. "Man, if you could see yourself now... you'd be pissed as all hell."
D-Von smiled in spite of himself. "I sure don't want to be around when you realize you've been in a hospital all day."
D-Von waited, as if he almost expected BuhBuh to respond, and his smile fell when he didn't. Taking a deep breath, D-Von settled into a chair that Spike must have pulled to the side of the bed. Poor Spike had been at BuhBuh's side all night, from when the match ended until he just went for coffee, most likely. D-Von sighed. "Man, I never expected to see the day when there would be a TLC match without me."
D-Von fell silent again, listening to the monitors beep. "How the hell can that Bischoff justify having a TLC match without me? I wasn't there for you and now... this. Calls in the middle of the night telling my concussed brother can't even remember fighting in that match. I heard Edge drove up here as soon as he heard there was going to be a match. I watched the match on TV - with Matt Hardy of all people. I thought he was going to break down crying everytime Jeff took a bump. And you... next time I get a chance, Christian and Jericho are going to pay for this. Jericho especially, for the bump. I always knew that Christian was a bad seed, but Jericho blindsided us."
D-Von lapsed into silence again, frowning. He wasn't used to BuhBuh staying silent - he loved to insult Christian. D-Von leaned forward in his seat. "Look, BuhBuh, I know you're going to be fine, and I'm not worried at all, but if you'd just say something - anything - to let me know you're still with me here. You've had worse. You just hit your head a little."
D-Von waited, then leaned back in his seat again. "But all those other times - I was there with you for the bumps. What the hell is little Spike going to do for you? Sure, he's got the Dudley fight in him, but he can't... well, he can't keep up."
There was a door click that startled D-Von and he looked up quickly to see Spike standing in front of the door with two paper cups of coffee. He looked absolutely crushed. "Oh, Spike, I..."
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for BuhBuh like you used to be," he muttered, looking to the ground.
"I didn't mean it, Spike, I'm just talking... I'm nervous."
"But you've said it before - over and over again. I just thought you were playing around then."
"Maybe at some point in time I did believe it, but you've proven yourself since then," D-Von sighed and gestured for Spike to pull up a chair next to him. "BuhBuh probably would have taken this bump if I'd been in the ring, too."
"No, he wouldn't have," Spike sighed, pulling up a chair next to D-Von and handing him a glass. "You would have been there for him."
"It was an accident," D-Von tried to reassure him again. "I couldn't have prevented it either."
"I don't know why you two morons are so worried about which of your's fault this is," a third voice interrupted, startling both Spike and D-Von.
"BuhBuh?" Spike asked, hesitantly.
"It sure as hell wasn't Spike knocking me out. If you want to be useful, go get a tape of that match so we can see who it was and get some revenge."
"Oh, my brother," D-Von got to his feet with a smile.
"And you," BuhBuh continued, turning to D-Von with an angry voice and sitting up slowly. "This isn't my goddamned funeral - so quit giving my eulogy. And lay off Spike - you weren't in that match, so you don't know what he was doing. And I don't remember the match, so for all we know, Spike could have been carrying the damn thing, and -"
"BuhBuh!" Spike repeated, getting to his feet with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"How am I feeling?" he asked dryly. "I don't know, I just was in a TLC match that I was unconscious during. I don't even know what hurts yet!"
D-Von and Spike exchanged grins. BuhBuh's yelling was always a good sign, even though he was currently glaring angrily at his brothers. "Now, D-Von, you said you saw that match - obviously you see -"
"You heard me?" D-Von asked suddenly, stopping BuhBuh. BuhBuh shrugged. "Yeah, so -"
"And you pretended not to?"
"Yeah, well..." BuhBuh hesitated slightly, then started again. "So obviously you see how pathetic the tag division on Raw is. If you could get over to Raw somehow, we -"
"Oh, my brother," D-Von laughed, sitting back down in his chair, and whispered, "Testify."