Time for everything to start going wrong then because nobody here expected things to go well for our poor girl right? Building up to our crazy finale!

xXBalorBabeXx, Me too, wrestling has not been the same without Dean and I'm especially missing his interactions with Roman and Seth because they seem to have so much fun when they're out there together. My dream is a heel Shield reunion like the good old days!

Mandy, Thank you, I seem to lurch from one thing to another recently. I do not recommend whooping cough by the way, it completely sucks. Luckily antibiotics are kicking its backside though. Thanks for thinking of me. On the plus side I got lots of time off work to write!

LHisawesome4ever, Heel Dean and Roman tag team would be amazing. Dean could be Roman's Paul Heyman type guy and talk for him and interfere and Roman can just be badass and swagger around behind him…someone calls the writers and tell them this stuff!

Wolfgirl2013, Vince is such a quirky character because you never know if he is good or bad or neither or somewhere in between etc. I always like to think he's neither but that means you can never really trust his word…

DannyPhantom619, Yep lots of shit and craziness happening in the next couple of chapters because that's the only way I know how. You get a taster of what might be happening in this one and then it all becomes horribly clear in the next one. Bring on the drama!

Guest, Thank you, glad you're enjoying. Still more to come but we're getting close to the end.

Skovko, God can you imagine a worse fate than going clothes shopping with Vince? Bra and panties weddings would totally be something he would Hallmark. Luckily he hasn't chosen the clothes on this occasion though but Lauren might end up wishing he had…

Minnie1015, Nope, while my coughing fits have been many (many many because whooping cough is the worst) I think we might have to blame your baby brain on that one. But it's okay because I know you would have written one anyway. We both have pretty good excuses either way though!

Rebel8954, Okay so I am writing this note the night before Monday RAW so I have no idea if he comes back or not but I will say it would be the perfect WWE ruse so come on people don't let me down! I need me some Dean and I have been patient!

Labinnacslove, Yep, if there's one think you can count on then it's Vince with some crazy idea. Except he's not the one with the crazy idea this time as you are about to find out. Because there are plenty of people in that family with heavily warped brains!

But in the meantime have some chaos…


Trouble Comin' Every Day

In hindsight I probably should have seen it coming from the moment the father of the woman who had kidnapped me had warmly assured me that I wouldn't come to any harm. Because the one thing I had forgotten was that in the big glitzy world of business and lawyers and legal stuff, technicalities of the spoken word were literally everything and so too were concepts like plausible denial.

In other words I was a very, very naive person.

Initially of course the night had started out normally and I had settled into my commentary post with barely even a blink and nor had I batted so much an eyelid when Michael Cole had looked bewildered when I mentioned the interview thing.

"So, what kind of questions have you got for me?" I had asked him with a bright chirp as I had slotted my headphones on and as the producers were counting us into the live broadcast and readying the pyrotechnics and lights to go off.

He had blinked at me,

"What?"

"Four…three…two…one…you're on guys."

In the flash of explosives and roar of the audience and the instantaneous beat of an incoming wrestler's theme, I had turned back to work and had forgotten all about it figuring that maybe my commentary colleague simply hadn't heard or else had yet to be informed about the interview since it wouldn't have been surprising to hear he hadn't been told. Besides, I had the big boss' protection, so it wasn't like I had anything to be concerned about.

Right?

In spite of that though, I couldn't really stop from shivering when the first match of the night was a Rowan and Harper tag because even though the times of them being mortal enemies was over, at no point had any of us become actual friends and nor would I ever be able to fully shake the memory of being handcuffed in the motel room while they sat and watched over me.

"Ugh, I hate those guys."

Michael Cole filled the blanks in quickly for those people at home who had forgotten the beef since my main role on commentary seems to be spitting out sentences prior to thinking them properly through first.

"Lauren of course was kidnapped by Bray Wyatt and his two family associates late last year and held hostage overnight to force the truth out of Stephanie about her ongoing campaign of fear."

"Yep, hate those guys."

From right alongside me JBL patted my curled hand with his and then puffed out his chest like an out of place peacock that somebody had teasingly made wear a Stetson hat.

"Well no need to worry now, those two won't get past me."

"Unless Vince McMahon snaps his fingers."

"What was that Michael?"

"Oooh, big boot from Harper straight to the face – ,"

Biting back a smile I leaned forward a little and caught Jerry Lawler winking right back which had become kind of standing joke between the two of us, to giggle like two school kids whenever our two bickering colleagues flared up. Even having been sat next to the pair for nearly six weeks and being privy to their interactions when the cameras were off, I still couldn't tell if they genuinely hated one another or whether their fiery outbursts were simply how they showed their love. Lawler had been sitting next to them for a hell of a lot longer and evidently understood even less than that though and so in the end it was simply one of those wrestling mysteries I had learned to live with and secretly kind of loved.

Menfolk huh?

In total the first match only lasted a few minutes and ended with the lesser of my growing list of hated enemies unfortunately picking up the win.

"Darn, is it wrong that I wanted them to lose that?"

Lawler chuckled back at me,

"Not from you it's not, I mean you've got beef with them that could make a heap of burgers."

"Bolognese too."

He laughed loudly at that.

For the next few matches my professionalism soared again and I went back to commenting the way that I had to in order to make sure they wouldn't cut off my pay and even though Michael Cole took the lead on narration, I actually felt like I was helping out pretty well and which was something that I had begun to feel week after week too as I slowly but surely started to bed in. I was even learning the names of some moves and submission holds thanks to late night sessions watching old matches in bed with Dean and having him talk through the basics of movements to the point where I could even begin to pick out the occasional botch –

Not that we were technically meant to mention that part.

Dean was scheduled in for about midway through the taping and it was there that my professionalism took a possible minor hit, since he was facing off with Randy of all freaking people to make up for Seth having pressed his beaky nose in and ruined their match-up barely one week before.

Luckily he wasn't out there on commentary.

Unluckily however it meant having to look at Randy's bald head and the too tight trunks that I had long felt should have been illegal and which made me think about his member and the night that he had tried to –

Nope.

"Lalalala," I sang the notes out loudly to break through the thought process then tried to clamp my hands over my ears before remembering that I was wearing a big ass pair of headphones and that, perhaps more importantly, I was both miked and fully live.

Crap.

Michael Cole, JBL and Jerry Lawler were blinking back at me and I winced a little and then let out a nervous laugh which then promptly turned into a gulp of pure terror as Randy strutted across the ring and then bumped the ropes with his chest, before licking his lips and looking right at me.

No singing in the world could have saved me from that.

But right on cue however and pretty much as always, the sound of a sliding guitar riff promptly kicked in and the packed out arena exploded in an excitement that lifted my heart right up into the clouds, because the elation they were expressing was saved solely for my fiancé who promptly strode out on top of the ramp and then stalked towards the ring with base levels of purpose and with his poor beautiful shoulder again heavily taped up. He was pumped and primed and ready for action and I honestly could not be any prouder of him at all. Momentarily I wondered if maybe his mom was watching since she had certainly implied that she kept tabs on everything, but the thought was quickly lost in the heat of the moment as the match began and Dean took total control.

"Yep, that's my man."

Michael Cole leaned in across the table,

"What can you tell us about the injury he has, it still looks up be strapped up so I'm assuming he must still be suffering?"

"Um – ," I paused a little unhelpfully and then grinned as I remembered Dean cupping my ass and how easy and sexually handsy his range of motion had been before clearing my throat, "He's a trooper, so he'll be fine, I'm sure the medical staff strapped him up as a precaution but trust me, you don't have to worry in the least."

Happily to prove my point, Dean then flung Randy right out of the ring bodily then slid out after him and threw him into the barricade too before stomping over to the timekeeper's area and starting to grab up a selection of chairs. He tossed them into the ring and I winced at it a little because frankly it seemed a horrible idea and mostly because I couldn't help but have flashbacks to my two weeks of concussion whenever I saw the stupid things.

Randy seemed addled and totally out of it –

I liked that part though.

Dean pushed him back in but from there things all went kind of screwy because Randy rolled back out and then threw Dean clean into the post, launching him into the poor hurting shoulder and drawing a united type of ooooh from the crowd and also me if I was totally honest.

Michael Cole raised a brow,

"You think his shoulder is fine, huh?"

Damn.

From there on in the match went pretty badly to the point where Dean was very nearly counted out, but which he managed to save at the very last second because he was Dean Ambrose so he was awesome like that. Even then however he couldn't stop the RKO strike and once his face hit the mat I knew the match up was done and it flowed up through me and lodged in my gullet because my poor brave man had put up one hell of a fight.

Randy smirked and then blew a kiss at me and I was inches away from flipping him the bird when thankfully JBL clamped my hand to the table and prevented me from possibly ruining my career.

Randy saw and then laughed across the ropes at me,

"See you later."

"In your dreams."

Dean took a few minutes longer to right himself while the referee hovered somewhat nervously by his side and I left the commentating to my colleagues for a second as I willed my man upright and back onto his feet.

Come on Dean.

I had vaguely remembered reading something somewhere about how multiple concussions in a short space of time had been known to result in blood clots and death and so therefore could have totally applied that to my fiancé who had been planted on his skull a little over a week ago and then been forced to eat a series of hellish RKOs. My heart was thumping and I was itching to rush over but then he righted himself finally, shook his head side to side dog-like and gave me a weary but wry looking thumbs up.

I blew out a breath,

"Oh god, he's such an idiot."

I kept my eyes on him as he staggered back up the ramp, snorting a little as he flapped off the physicians before then snapping his teeth at them –

I loved when he did that.

In fact I was so busy watching my fiancé and mildly worrying that he could at any moment fall back down, that I barely even noticed a figure moving towards me until they squatted themselves low right next to my chair and made me startle with a pathetic little squeak noise which was then thankfully cut off as we went off the air and moved to one of the very quick commercials that usually helped provide some breathing time.

It was Matt.

"Lauren sweetie, it's time to get ready."

I pulled my headphones off and groaned back reluctantly,

"Oh yeah, because for some reason my clothes aren't glamorous enough for the next segment or maybe I'm not or something, I'm not totally sure. But I mean, what does Vince McMahon know about ladies fashion anyway?" Matt winced and then pointed to the microphone before my face, making a swift motion to kill my grumpy ranting and making me gasp at my lack of discretion, "Ooh crap."

He bit on his lip to stop himself from laughing and in the moment it seemed so stupid I actually giggled too, trying to hide it in the palm of my hand badly as he beckoned me after him with a fond shake of his head.

I turned to the others as I slid from my position,

"Be back in a minute for the big engagement interview, Michael, remember now, I fully expect you to be pleasant."

He blinked at me and then went to say something but the commercials were close to being over and done, so I hot-footed my way around the ring towards Matty and then followed him backstage before the many cameras flipped back on. For a second I was worried we would be going through gorilla, where Hunter and Stephanie and their merry band liked to hang, but instead we skirted the edge of the rampway and ducked beneath the titantron into the hallways themselves.

Matty snorted,

"I totally hope Vince heard that."

I pouted in response,

"Hey no fair, I mean what if he's actually genuinely upset or something? He'll probably fire me once we get this part over – whatever this part actually is because beyond it being an interview I'm pretty much in the dark here – um – where are we even going right now?"

For the most part when I found myself in the backstage section of arenas I either stayed on the same level or else usually headed lower down which been especially true in the early former Shield days because the boys had been pretty much persona-non-grata and so had spent most of their time making lockers room in the basement and generally trying to keep out of the way.

Matty was leading me upwards however.

He shrugged,

"All I was told was to take you up to this room, it's a real nice one sweetie with one of those big mirrors with light bulbs around it like a movie star of something."

"Be still my beating heart."

At the sound of deeply sarcastic rejoinder my work bestie laughed but then carried along, finally leading us to a door and then knocking before flinging it open and ushering me in.

"Here she is."

He was right.

I was in a proper dressing room with a comfy seating area and a partition wall, which was furnished with a curtain that I could draw when I was changing and which had had a floor to ceiling mirror to help me look at myself and whatever uber glamorous dress Vince's people had picked out for me and which I totally wasn't massively bitter about –

Much.

In front of us there was a portly but otherwise smiling woman, who was standing in the centre with her hands loosely clasped and looking a little like a kindergarten teacher welcoming kids on their first day of class.

Matty introduced me with an actual flourish,

"Lauren Helmsley as requested."

Her head bobbed,

"Thank you."

He backed towards the hallway and I shot a look towards him which easily translated as a plea for him to stay, but instead he winced at me in an expression of pure apology, then shot the woman a fake smile and pulled shut the door. For a second there was silence because I had no idea what was happening and worryingly it seemed like neither did the wardrobe girl, who simply blinked across the room like she was nervous before sucking a breath in then gesturing awkwardly,

"Clothes off."

"Um, excuse me?"

"Oh, I mean around the corner, behind the partition – if you would like to take them off and then hang them over the top of the screen then I'll swap them out for the dress you'll be wearing."

I hesitated briefly,

"Can I see it first by any chance?"

"The dress?"

"Uh huh."

Her brown curls bounced,

"I'm afraid not no, I have very strict instructions that you aren't allowed to see it until I have you fully in and all zipped up – um – it's supposed to be a surprise."

I bit my lip hard.

Literally the last thing I wanted to do was strip all my clothes off and be dressed by someone I had recently met and especially not with my eyes closed or blindfolded because god only knew what they would put me into then and suddenly I had visions of being dressed in a costume or maybe something bizarrely raunchy but which would totally be Vince's thing. However none of that would be the fault of the person hovering in front of me, who was clearly an apprentice seamstress or college leaver at best and so to that end I painted a smile on and shuffled awkwardly round the corner before pulling across the thin strip of near see through fabric and beginning to shuck myself out of my own threads with internal mumble.

It was only for one night.

Maybe the dress would be a totally super cute one and they would let me take it home with me afterwards for keeps and for putting up with the general high levels of crazy.

How badly wrong could one section go.

Right?

Blowing out a breath and wishing pretty uselessly that I had been more forceful earlier and flatly turned Vince down, I reluctantly tossed my clothing over the top of the partition, then wet my lips and steeled my nerve,

"I'm ready."

"You have to close your eyes."

Crap.

I half-heartedly did it anyway and then called out to her for the second time.

"Yep, they're all closed now."

Behind me the curtain was pulled back slowly and presently there was the rustling of what I assumed had to be a poofy dress and which I generally figured I was going to hate outright but had very little option but to try and put on. Fingers tapped my leg and I lifted a foot up and her hands helped to slowly guide me into the skirts, before pulling the dress up over my hip bones and then across my body.

It felt –

It felt evening gown long and instantly my vision of a short cocktail dress melted clean off since instead I was being helped into what seemed to be something traditional or a long slinky number Breakfast at Tiffany's style. Hands found mine and then slipped the sleeves over before pulling them until the neck fell straight across my collarbone so that it sat off the shoulder and then was pulled in tighter as the hook-and-eyes at the back were fastened up. My newfound stylist followed that by gathering my hair up and then she twisted it before clipping it neatly in place before finally putting something over the top of my temples that I assumed was a garland or tiara of some sort. Maybe Vince did know ladies' fashion wear after all, because I certainly felt like the belle of the ball. Behind me the girl stepped back and cleared her throat a bit and I paused a little awkwardly,

"Um, can I look now?"

"Mmhmm."

Blinking back into the light left me speechless and for a second I assumed that I was simply seeing things, because I wasn't in an Aubrey Hepburn dress in the slightest but instead in an actual white, full length bridal gown.

"What the fuck?" I bit out in pure astonishment managing to sound totally like my fiancé, but beyond that the words stayed stuck in my gullet because the thing was too beautiful to truly take in. In terms of bling and other gaudy accessories, the frock I was wearing had little to none and was instead covered from the neck to the toes in lace detailing which sat over long underskirts and then thinned out across my front creating a subtle and elegant mesh area that made me feel super feminine and unsurprisingly, like a bride. I blinked at it for probably about a minute without moving, then looked up into the mirror towards my stylist with a frown,

"Why would they want me to – ,"

I stopped dead then gulped a little at the reflection of the woman who had helped me get dressed, but who was not the nervy girl I had reluctantly complied to earlier and was instead my much loathed and wicked stepmother.

It was Steph.

I gaped at her and she smiled as she noted the recognition and then tipped her head a little to the left hand side, like she was admiring the look she had helped to manufacture before reaching across to tuck back a strand of my hair.

"Well now, I must you say look quite the picture and if I was the sort of person that had regular human emotions then I might even feel a little bit proud."

In response I twisted myself from her grasp pretty violently and then backed up so quickly that I slammed into the mirror stand and then nearly sent it toppling over because naturally what I needed was seven years more bad luck.

"What – what are you doing here?" I spluttered in both alarm and frustration, "What's going on and why am I wearing this?"

My stepmother moved in and took me gently by the elbows and for a baffled split second I even let her make the hold because I was literally too stunned to really function in real time and so therefore then found myself stumbling forward as she lead me out from the sectioned off dressing room.

"Sweetie – ,"

How long had been since she'd last called me that?

It was like having a flashback to six months before, when she and I had been both friends and true family members and when I had phoned her up to have girly sort of chats and had told her secrets and talked about my ex-boyfriend and had generally trusted her with the innermost fabric of my life and which then filled me with a sense of total nostalgia that was probably misplaced because all of that was done now.

"Sweetie," Steph continued, "Isn't it obvious why you're wearing that?"

I blinked,

"Because I – I'm engaged?"

Big eyes fluttered back at me and she chuckled like I was amusing her before making me walk a few tentative steps more. Blowing out a breath she shook her head wryly and then clicked her tongue regretfully as her fingers tightened up,

"Lauren, I think you would agree that we have tried with you, but everything we've done you threw back in our face."

Fury spiked inside me,

"You knocked me out and kidnapped me."

It was a memory harsh enough to slam on the brakes and suddenly make my senses flood back in hot panic because why was I letting her touch and guide me? Um no. I pulled back against her, trying to pull loose my forearms but finding that she was surprisingly powerful and stumbling forwards as she gave me a wrench. Any ease in her tones fell away pretty swiftly and a quick flash of irritation flickered over her face as the pair of us clumsily moved from the partition and back out into the body of the room.

"You know," Steph spat, "I think we probably could have handled the fact that you and Dean were together and shacked up, but there is no way in hell we can let this marriage happen and taint the McMahon-Helmsley bloodline not to mention this company."

I struggled,

"Get off – ,"

Pulling back with all the limited strength I had left in me I finally succeeded in wrenching myself loose but the force of which surprised me enough to knock me backwards at which point I crashed into a tall, firm chest. Pivoting round I gaped in bewilderment at my father, who was standing right behind me looking both angry and choked up and realizing that he too was in on whatever the hell was happening, I tried to lunge for the door –

He grabbed me and held me in place.

"Let me go, please, you – you can't do this."

Not that I knew precisely what this was but I knew that whatever happened it would probably be terrible and I knew that with pretty much every fibre I had. In response to my pleas, Hunter's gaze flickered mildly but then hardened into granite.

"This is best for everyone, you'll see."


So what exactly do they have in mind for our girl (except for something really not good)? Check back in three days!