Randy lay in the center of his bed, curled up. He'd finally gone to sleep after Trish had gotten him home. He'd been so out of it at the bar that she'd almost taken him to the emergency room instead. That would have been a waste, though. He'd been to the hospital before for the migraines. In fact, both she and Shawn had badgered him into going on separate occasions. It simply wasn't something that could be fixed at the hospital.

Still, she was more worried than she had ever been about them. She'd never seen them get so bad before and she hated to see him in so much pain. She only left his side when someone knocked on the door. Shawn had said he might come over to check on Randy later…

When she opened the door, however, John Cena was standing there.

"Uh, hi," he said, only mildly surprised that she had answered the door instead of Randy. After all, she had told him that she and Randy were close.

"Hi." Trish didn't open the door wider, didn't invite him in, at least not right away. She was unsure if she should. He wouldn't know about what these headaches really meant for Randy and if he had another one in front of John, the man would probably freak.

"I never did introduce myself when we talked earlier, did I?" John asked with a smile, seemingly unconcerned about her indecision.

"No, but I do know who you are," she answered, unable to help but to smile herself. She'd only met him once but she already liked him, just by the way that Randy had described him. She held out a hand for him to shake.

"Trish Stratus."

"John Cena." His smile widened as he clasped her hand and shook it. "So, you gonna let me in, Trish?"

She sighed, hesitated, and then opened the door wider, stepping aside so that he could come in. "He's sleeping right now," Trish told him before she closed the door. "It is late. What are you doing here?"

"I was supposed to meet him after he got off work," John explained with a shrug. "I don't have a job myself so I don't really have a bedtime."

"Right. Well, he had a pretty bad headache at work."

"Migraine?" John asked, sympathy in his eyes. "He told me he gets them sometimes."

Trish blinked in surprise before she nodded. "Yeah and the only thing he can really do for them is lock himself away in a dark room and wait it out."

John nodded in understanding. "My mom used to get them pretty bad. I remember how sick they made her."

"If you want to go in there, you can," Trish offered after a moment. "Just…don't wake him up."

"I won't," John promised before making his way into the room. Randy was curled up in the bed, sound asleep. As quietly as possible, John took off his shoes and his jacket before climbing into bed behind Randy and wrapping his arms around the man.

Xxxxxxxx

Randy stared at the wall of his bedroom. He'd been awake for at least half an hour, still trying to make sense of his dreams. The pain in his head had lessoned to a dull ache and he'd woken up with one of John's arms thrown over him.

He knew, after analyzing what he'd seen first, who it was about. It was unmistakable. The second one was just as easy to figure out, and had been his most painful one yet. He knew there was a gun involved. He remembered that much.

Usually, he was watching from the outside. Like the one he'd had about Adam before he'd died. He'd seen what had happened to Adam, like he was standing off to the side as it happened. This new one had been completely different.

He hadn't been standing off to the side; he'd been looking down the barrel of a shotgun himself. It was a first. He'd never had a vision of himself in danger but he guessed there was a first time for everything.

As silently and gently as possible, he extracted himself from John's grip and stood up. First thing first, he had to stop the first vision.

Xxxxxxx

Justin Gabriel did look very surprised when he opened the door and saw Randy standing there. "What the hell do you want?" He asked, his surprise turning to anger. "I've left you alone-"

"You have to get out of here," Randy interrupted, shoving past Justin so that he could get into the house.

"What?"

"Look, I know you never believed me when I told you what I see sometimes but I need you to believe me now, Justin," Randy said in a rush. He'd already wasted enough time wallowing in his own pain. These visions had a sense of urgency to them that none of his others had.

"What are you talking about? You had another one…of me?" The anger had died in Justin's tone.

"Yes."

"What is it?" Justin asked, his face a little pale.

Randy stilled, studied his former best friend. "So, you believe me now?"

"What is it?" Justin repeated, answering the question with the fear in his eyes.

"I saw a shotgun…"

Justin let out a breath. "Alright." He paused, seemed to gather himself. "I'm coming with you."

"No! You need to stay away from me too, Justin. Just…get out of town for a while."

"Why?" Justin frowned at him, took a step closer. "You had one of yourself too, didn't you? Whoever's comin' after me…they're comin' after you too?"

"It doesn't matter. Just…go, Justin." Randy started towards the door again. Justin only hesitated a second before he locked Randy's path.

"No. This isn't up for debate. I'm coming with you."

Xxxxxxx

The pounding on Randy's door is what woke John up. He gave a start at how loud it was, and then at the fact that he was alone in Randy's bed. John groaned at the persistence of whoever was at the door and rolled to his feet.

He noted as he passed through the living room that Trish had left before he jerked the door open.

"Mike?" He frowned at the sight of his friend.

"Where is he?" Mike practically growled, shoving past John and into the apartment. John turned to him, his natural reaction one of worry about Mike's to what had been going on between John and Randy. His thoughts stopped in their tracks, however, when he caught sight of what Mike was holding in one of his hands.

Xxxxxxx

Justin had had a great deal of time to think…and to feel guilty. As soon as he had let himself believe that Randy really was innocent, the guilt had nearly been suffocating. He had beaten up, and terrorized his best friend for nothing.

It was that guilt that had him insisting on going with Randy when he'd shown up on Justin's porch with a warning about not only Justin's death but his own as well.

"What are we doing here?" He asked when he followed Randy up to his apartment. "Shouldn't we be going someplace where whoever this is won't find us?"

"I need to talk to someone else," Randy said, opening his door and heading inside. Justin reluctantly followed him in. There was no one in Randy's living room but a few moments after Justin had shut the front door, the bedroom door opened and John Cena was pushed forcefully out.

Justin's eyes widened and shocked terror rose in his chest when Mike followed him out, a shotgun gripped tightly in his hands.