A/N: I know I promised once a week but I just recently got a new job and now I'm struggling to balance two jobs at once now. But it'll pay off seeing as the money is the sole motive for me to be doing all of this. But I have good news! I finally managed to order in a new keyboard for my tablet so updates are most definitely going to be frequent. And I hope that excites you just as much as it has me. Either way, enough of my personal babblings! I'm glad to always see new followers and favourites of my story because that really means the fucking world to me and as always I wish to shout out those whom stuck faithfully by my story (and the newcomers) who reviewed Chapter 8: Guest, Punkedbyambrose, Ams, angelsdee327, UntilNeverDaws, xSamiliciousx, ThatGirl54, HumanSpectre. Sadly enough it makes me happy you guys are enjoying the misery between Jon and Charlotte as of late. Either way, enough of that. Please review your thoughts for they are always taken noted of.

I owe nothing that corresponds with the WWE – except for Charlotte. She's my sole creation.

VX: Adaptation & Revitalization.

Everything moved a little bit too quick for its own good. One second Charlotte found herself pressed against a burning snack machine and her face being covered in spit that was stained with some sort of cognac liquor. All she managed to make out from the words of her so called fiancée was how much of a fucking little shit she is and how she's probably whoring herself around and about with all of the locker room. One of the many reasons Charlotte made sure to be successful in her pursuit to work with World Wrestling Entertainment was to get away with him. She could travel the world without having to lace her fingers with his. Without having to pretend to smile and kiss him all for the sake of safety.

She knew she could fight him back. She knew she could defend herself if she wanted to. For some reason, the instances of being able to put her dukes up and fight him back were innate. But never resulted in something beneficiary. She would be battered and bruised from sheer aggression and she realized that she couldn't continue putting herself through that. She would rather get shook than actually… touched. Touched by ever so loving fiancée that is Hayden Park. That instance Charlotte came to the conclusion that something was clearly wrong with her fiancée – and although the temptation to leave his side has been clear ever since eight years ago – when he finally let go of the sweetheart t act and revealed and relished in his true colours.

He wasn't shit. That much she was sure of.

She didn't love him.

She didn't know why she stuck by side him.

Then again that is probably a lie. Regardless of it all – it went from her shying her face away, feeling his fingernails push past her skin and into her tissue withdrawing blood to him quickly being pulled away from her. As though the demons from Tartarus finally answered her calling and dragged him away into the pitch blackness that he belongs in. But if anything her eyes widen at realizing only because of his rather scarred yet beautiful hands – that was the man known as Dean Ambrose whom from the back collar of Hayden's shirt managed to drag him down to the floor before he would place himself directly on top of him. Fists without mercy crashing directly onto the flesh of her fiancée and Charlotte was stoic.

Her hands trembled with much anxiety, her breathing was heavy along with the crave of some filtered cigarettes but a part of her was satisfied watching this hound devour the monster before her. She felt her lips twitch, urging to curve into a smirk of sheer satisfaction as she stood there and watched. Something felt right with this. No, not right. Familiar. She felt as though this scene, this barbaric punishment that was well deserved rang with much resonance. She didn't care that the man she presumed hated her was plummeting her fiancée to the verge of death. If anything she felt this primitive satisfaction.

"If anything you're going to learn how to beat your fuckin' meat instead of women you piece of shit!"

That voice. It sounded just like him. Just like Dean. No, Jonathan. No. The auburn Stray Dog. But dogs can't talk? Charlotte gasped for air as she then placed her hands onto Dean's shoulders and with much strength pulled him off from a battered and bleeding Hayden Park whom only coughed and wallowed in agony in a cesspool of his own blood. The bittersweet acidic, battery-like stench crawled up her nostrils but she had no time to embrace that very sight as she found herself struggling to hold back a rabid Dean Ambrose. Quickly officials within the backstage arena and his partners Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns came to the scene. Seth at the sight of Hayden would only call outloud for a medic as Roman Reigns would help Charlotte to hold back this strange Dean Ambrose that has never been seen before.

Charlotte found herself wrapping her legs around his waist, holding him close as she pressed herself tightly against his back for the sake of making sure he didn't budge anywhere. There, she managed to catch that organic scent of Dean Ambrose. No, past the sweat. But cigarettes, and something so humane, raw. It tantalized her insides as she felt herself grow hungry at being so close to him. Her mouth salivating with eagerness as to she begins to question so many things during the hectic scenery.

The voice that crossed right through her mind.

The auburn dog that ferociously bit into the leg of a young Hayden.

The rustic pick-up truck and the stars of Cincinnati.

Her head was hurting. And Dean Ambrose wasn't himself. No, he was not even Jonathan Good. He couldn't even see colours within the filthy world he found himself in. He saw nothing but red that rested in his own pool of blood. He stared down at his monochrome skin to find the only colouring being the blood he managed to withdraw from the bastard that dared to harm her. Her. The woman whom found him for dead when he was nothing but a shit of a teenage kid with angst and horrible habits at his age – brought him inside of her into a home that he struggled to find for so long past the wrestling rings he competed in.

Charlotte Helena Rove was home. She was all that mattered to him other than his passion for wrestling. She was his owner. And his innate feeling of needing to protect, to watch over her and snarl at anything that dared harm her was something he couldn't help himself with. Dean now found himself in his locker room as he stared at the ceiling fan with its flickering lights with an almost demented grin on his face. He began to chuckle but was soon snapped out of it as he felt the rather stinging sensation of alcohol being poured onto his scarred hands.

He stared down, right between his knees into those forest oculars that breathed life into him as if they were God and he was simply Adam. The familiarity he found with them was unclear at the moment. But little and little the world began to shape itself into normalcy. Colours returned to where they belonged and he saw those annoying blond tendrils he wanted to tuck right behind her ear. But he was in sheer ecstasy from the pain he caused to the demons that dared harm his owner.

He looked around the locker room. Seth and Roman stood right behind Charlotte whom was on her bare knees cleaning the wounds of his knuckles. Dean felt himself choke up at the sight before his eyes. This was just like nine years ago. Whenever his ass would go off causing problems and getting into life-threatning situations he would come to her and she would do exactly this. Alcohol to burn away everything that could infect him, moisten cloth to then flush out the burning sensation of the alcohol, dabs of hydrogen peroxide, appliance of anti-bacterial cream and then bandages.

He winced at feeling the pain surging from his knuckles alas from coming down that personal high. He stared down at her. His eyes now stung in pain as he fought back the tears that welled up in them. She was focused on his hands as she slightly gave his hand a squeeze. Slowly she stood up before she stared right down at him. Her lips parted as if she was to say something but was quickly interrupted with a backstage official coming in the room.

"Ms. Rove, the ambulance is here. Whenever you're ready to come." Charlotte stared at Seth and Roman for a second whom only nodded their heads.

"Don't worry we'll take care of him from here. Call us if you need anything." Seth gave her a reassuring squeeze.

Roman whom now stood right before her with much anger notable in his eyes would only suck his teeth. "No fucking prick should put his hands on a woman. Remember that shit Charlotte." Dean only quietly stared at the exchange between the three before he noted her staring directly his way. Her lips only moved quietly. But he managed to read them.

Thank you.

Quickly she ran out the door and in the locker room Seth and Roman went up to Dean. Finally the two understand their partner, no, their brother more than they did. They recognized the pained expression in his eyes as Dean stood up from his seat and began to punch a dent into the lockers before both Seth and Roman eloped him a brotherly embrace. Dean felt himself crash and burn once more as the tears that he fought so hard to hold back finally released themselves.

His yells echoed throughout all of backstage and Seth and Roman only stared at each other in silence before they proceeded to calm their friend who clearly was in need.

October 2012 - Fall.

Orlando, Florida

NXT Developmental Grounds

Nobody ever talked about what happened at the end of September between Dean, Charlotte and her fiancée. Whom in result of being assaulted by Dean Ambrose was at the verge of being sued by Hayden whom was infuriated due to his loving face being in constant care underneath the care of a plastic surgeon. According to the reports from the doctors, his cheekbones, nose, and even jawline bones were fractured from the beating. Hell, he even lost a couple of teeth. Charlotte remembered staring at a clean-face Hayden with a smile on her face at realizing that the once oh so beautiful man that every woman desired wasn't going to be the same for a while now.

That same day when Hayden woke up and Charlotte was by side him – she didn't say much to him. "Enough." And would with great ease remove the filthy engagement ring she wore and placed it on the nightstand by side him. Leaving him to rage all alone in the hospital room. Of course, the news of her leaving Hayden came to her parents ears. She had to go back home, back to Cincinnati where her parents urged for her to come back.

She felt strange being back at her so call 'home'. She hadn't seen her boys for three weeks. And their debut is set for November 18 yet she wasn't there to be their Big Momma and guide them. But Roman – whom seem to have everything within the group stable reassured her – made sure to keep her posted about everything that was going on with them and would even pitch all her memos from corporate that she didn't receive. Roman and Seth reassured her that when she would come back she would find them better than when she left them.

At home, Charlotte was all the more scrutinized by her parents. And even those of Hayden whom cornered her to the point that she would even burst outloud and tell them what he's been doing to her for the past nine years ever since she could remember. How he would see other women besides her, how he would put his hands on her, how he would come to their home drunk out of his mind with another woman or with malicious intents. But they didn't believe a word she said. They would play a memory card. Of how her perception on things is most likely hay-wired. How everything she just said was nothing but in her head. That her medication was making her delusional. And even if she had the bruises on her arms as proof they would regard it as something else.

They dared even ask who was the man that assaulted Hayden and Charlotte couldn't open her mouth then. She couldn't rat out Dean, the man who saved her from being covered in all the more bruises. They insisted, they convinced her to not quit on Hayden. To try one more time. For the sake of the family and their relationships not only on an intimate basis but even internationally and business wise. The pressure, a pressure that made her head cringe with agony was what pushed her to agree with much disdain. She didn't wear the ring. But she agreed to continue being his fiancée. Why did she feel as though she had no other choice?

Charlotte sighed as the hot rays of Orlando, Florida kissed her skin once more and she felt some sort of joy being back at work. But even while she was away, she working if not making sure to report to the higher ups of Stephanie McMahon and Triple H – she was sending some pieces to the head of Creative to see if they agreed in regards of The Shield. Stephanie and Paul had no problem with her leave for they admire her work ethic. Her dedication to even help with the editing of promotions for the company and even scripts for the Superstars is what allowed them to even agree and look past the madness that occurred backstage.

She even begged the two to not punish Dean. And they didn't.

Quickly for some reason, she ached to see them. Being at home only kept giving her dreams about that god forsaken dog she can't shrug out of her mind and heart. Being at home made her think about how he would rest outside of her door whenever the lightning boomed outside just to make sure she was okay. She couldn't shrug it off. No matter how hard she tried and whenever Charlotte would ask her parents about the dog – they would only play the fissured memory card once more. It's all in your head dear. You didn't have a dog. There was never a dog around. Remember, your father is allergic.

But she was convinced the Stray Dog she remembered finding on her porch left for dead was real. Or maybe… They were right, and it was all in her fucked memory bank. Charlotte only hasten her pace as she alas found their locker room and with little to no warning she snapped the door open and stepped inside. However, there was no Seth Rollins, no Roman Reigns. Just him. Him…

Dean Ambrose.

Dean Ambrose on the other hand tried his best to remain professional about everything that happened. When approached by the higher ups he was certain he was to be punished for the incident however they simply asked him questions about what happened. Why he did what he did. And he told them simply because, He couldn't allow him to do anything bad to Charlotte. Something they deemed acceptable as of course they wanted to make sure of what they saw through security camera footage. Since Charlotte's small leave, the three made sure to depend on themselves with whatever was needed. Training was becoming intense. They even practiced how they would cut promos and pitched the idea to higher ups how they think bulletproof vests would be good choice for uniform and that their promos should be done with hand-held camcorders.

Everyone was admiring the growth of the three NXT Rookies soon to be main-eventers on the flagship show of Monday Night Raw. But more importantly, within the soon to be stable – Seth and Roman were more surprised of how Dean has managed to keep a hold of himself for the sake of being able to perform. But afterwards he was back to normal. Drinking too much for his own good and fucking rats without much control. Even if he didn't want to fuck them, he did for the sake of making sure to flush out the look in her eyes when she mouthed him the words thank you. He felt like that same instance in high school when Dean protected her from the grasps of Hayden. But instead of holding him close to her frame in gratitude with tears in her eyes, since she didn't know him, all she did was mouth that to him. For some reason he felt as though that was good enough.

He didn't need anything else from her. Regardless if he just wanted her. He wanted to feel her lips once again. He wanted her. He missed her. He misses her. And he wish his cries would only bring back those sweet memories of him being a gone boy in love with his owner. The boy that found home thanks to her. But Dean knew, and came to realization that he was wanting a loss cause. That no longer would she ever remember him. For his name, Jonathan Good is nothing more than dust in the wind to Charlotte Rove.

"Jon…" Charlotte stared at him in awe. Still remembering the day as if it was yesterday when he yanked Hayden away from her and plummeted every inch of his life out of him. With that image in mind comes that of her favourite, her so-called non-existent Stray Dog who bit the leg of a young Hayden Park in-front of many others at her high school. She didn't get a response and expected as much, as of course she prepared herself to be notorious enemy number one for the likes of Dean Ambrose. She placed her bags down on the side and tried her hardest not to look back into those treacherous blues of Dean. For she recognizes the fact that she'll just get stuck on them and have a loss for words. Instead she sat down on one of the steel chairs and pretended to rummage through her belongings.

"Where are the others…?" She tried to spark conversation, instead she found herself being able to breathe in that fresh musk of cigarettes, mild sweat and axe. A knot formed in her throat as she would look up to Dean Ambrose whom looked right down at her. Before she could even react she felt his hands right underneath her chin, taking a good hold of it – causing her to push back into her seat, little by little standing up before him. He gave her face a light squeeze, not with aggression, but with some kind of strange force.

It was tender. Something about his hold on her gave her life. Breathed some sort of essence that revitalized her dying soul. The image of his blood knuckles flashed her mind, along with the bloody teeth of her Stray Dog. Her hand pressed itself against his chest. Trying to maintain some sort of distance between the two but Dean only shook his head and this time she was pressed against the lockers. She felt his knee right between her legs and felt herself consumed with some sort of maddening fever and as much as she wanted to struggle right out of this grasp –

She didn't feel endangered. She felt just real, true to herself.

"Nothing… Charlie…?"

She felt his words dance on her lips and her eyes widen at the name he called her. Charlie. His free hand ran up and down her legs causing her to shiver and her skin crawl with goosebumps. She never remember ever – her body reacting this way. Only when she would watch him wrestling during his independent days and even on NXT grounds. Her mouth, itching as his were so close to her own. She was confused by his question, confused as to why she felt this surging headache flow through her head once more. Confused as to why he calling her Charlie made her want to rip everything she's been told to shreds and take a mind swim.

"W-What…? What am I supposed to know Jon…"

Her breathing heavy. Jon could smell her sweet, citrusy breath and felt like devouring her blushed lips once more. Just how he did when they were teenagers too stubborn or afraid to admit how one felt about another. He stared down at the hand pressed against his chest. This time his ring was the one that remained. The one that actually belonged there – that wasn't meant to go anywhere else or accompanied by anything else. Jon, out of pure frustration closed in on her face, his lips or the spark that emanated from them would dance against hers. But he never kissed her, no. Instead he withdrew one sharp breath in before pulling away from her.

Allowing Charlotte to finally breath for once in her life some air that wasn't revolving around his addicting scent. She slid down against the lockers and stared up at Jon whom simply gave his back to her but also sat down on the floor. She stared at his bare back with much familiarity. She then and there realized what he reminded her of. He was just like it. The Stray Dog she saved at the front of her home. The Stray Dog she's convinced is not part of her dreams but actually existed in her life.

But, Jonathan Good is far from a dog.

Before her hands reached out to trail her fingertips down his spinal cord, Jon once more broke the silence.

"Thank you, again. For taking care of my hands. It was somethin' I could've handled my god damn self but fuck it. You always have the tendency of sowing me up whenever I'm busted open."

Charlotte only found herself growing all the more confused. She stared down at his now healed knuckles. But his words made no sense, his words only frustrated her out of confusion. She snapped up, away from the floor and pushed the chair aside. Allowing the sound of metals clashing to boom within her room. Jon was startled as he now stood up before her. Charlotte only began to shove him. She wanted to get away from him. Away from all this nonsense that made no sense to her.

"What the fuck are you talking about huh?!"

Tears now began to well up in her eyes and although Jon would try to have a grip on her arms she would with more aggression push him right off. Charlotte felt as though she was erupting pent up frustrations of someone else within her heart dying to get out. As though something within her was just as mad for all of the things happening within her life revolving around something that made no sense.

"Ever since I've gotten here I've tried with you and all you constantly do is fuck with my head! What the fuck am I supposed to know if you're not telling me shit?! Every day I am here with you, Colby and Joe, trying my hardest to push past the fact that you can't help but sit in that fucking corner and just fucking stare at me as though I'm the biggest piece of shit you've ever met in your god damn life." A stronger shove.

"And I'm going to tell you something right now Good. You don't fuckin' know me. And if you did, you would know not to get on my fuckin' bad side. Stop fuckin' with me. Stop fuckin' with my head."

Jon stared at her quietly as she began to heavily pant due to fatigue. Her arms dangled loosely by her side and Jon remembered the times he would find her like this in her own home nine years ago. Charlotte only then began to cry, just as he predicted she would, she would cry like a child and he would only chuckle to himself before with little concern as to who walks into the two – he took her in his arms and gave her a strong embrace.

Through the sobs, through the blurred vision due to tears and smeared eyeliner, in her mind – The Stray Dog shifted from an actual dog, to a human with no face. And the fact that the embrace was so comforting and organic, she didn't mind his hold.

"Stop your fuckin' crying Charlie."

Jon felt the tears in his eyes as well, he didn't care if this was the first and last time he would hold her like this. For some reason, this was all he needed. This was all that reassured him that even the tough as nails girl he fell in love with back home at Cincinnati was somewhere inside – regardless if she didn't remember him. Jon came to terms with the fact that he could only protect her, even from a distance, without love, just as what he knew he would always be to her at the end of the day. The loyal pet that from the shadows stood by her side. He'll never be anything more to her, or anything less.

She won't remember him.

"But I chose the life

I chose the life

Then I realized

She might have been the one

I let it go

For a little fun

I made a trade

Gave away our days

For a little fame

Now I'll never see your face

But it's okay I adapted anyway." – The Weeknd.