Angel Dust

A/N: As has become the case with most of my stories lately, this chapter is nothing like I originally intended. But Dave is a pretty intimidating and persuasive guy when he wants to be. So who I was to tell him he couldn't have his own chapter? Seriously - would you tell him "no"? That's what I thought. Anyway - Enjoy!

Time didn't exist for Dave Batista anymore. The only guage he had for day and night was watching his wife plod through her days on Earth. When her alarm clock went off, a new day was starting. When she finally stopped running around that damned coffee shop and went home to collapse in her bed, he knew that the day was over.

Eddie had warned him, on occasion, that there would come a day when watching her would grow tiresome. He informed his friend that observing the living was recreational, but that it would lose it's appeal someday. But as the days passed by, and Dave continued watching his bride, he knew it was all a lie.

He had never tired of her when he was alive, and he damn sure wasn't going to in death. Besides the fact that there was absolutely nothing else to do on the other side, he found his interest and fascination with her was stronger now than it had been before. He could remember nights spent in the stillness of their bedroom, seeing the hours tick away over her shoulder as he watched her sleeping.

And now to watch her sleep was an even greater pleasure. Just to see her peaceful smile, to hear the sounds of her subtle snoring or moaning, was enough to tide him over for those few hours she wasn't actually doing something. The flush in her cheeks when she was running around during the day, trying to accomplish more than any sane person would ever attempt, was beautiful. But the peaceful glow she carried in dreams was beyond stunning.

Reclined in his chair, he watched her chest rising and falling beneath one of his old tee shirts as she rested alone in the bed she normally shared with Randy. He had been out of the country for almost a week, and it brought Dave both great pain and pleasure to see her mark the days off of the kitchen calendar in anticipation of her new boyfriend's return.

Trish assured him that, even if Courtney did love Randy, she would also always have a special place in her heart for him. He was a selfish bastard by nature, and a part of him wanted that special place to consume her for the rest of her life. But every time Randy called to check in, and he saw the smile that spread across her face as she teased him with flirtatious promises of their erotic reunion, he couldn't help but pat himself on the back. His two favorite people were happy, and they had him to thank for that.

The cell phone on Courtney's bedside table rang at 3:30 in the morning. She rolled and searched for it with one hand as the other shovelled her blonde locks from her face. "Hello?" she muttered. . . "Hey." Dave leaned forward as a look of concerned etched onto her flawless features. "That's not funny, Orton." Her voice was thickened by sleep as she sighed. "When are you coming home?" His answer did not satisfy her. "What happened to a week?. . . Ya know what? I don't fuckin' care if you've got an interview with Bin Laden his damn self," she spat.

Leaning back, Dave allowed himself another smile. He had heard this argument before. He had sat on the other end of that phone while she bitched him out for not keeping a scheduled time of arrival. If he closed his eyes and merely listened, he could pretend she was still talking to him.

"No, I know that," she sighed slightly, rolling fully onto her back and staring at the ceiling. "Randy, I know that it's your job. I get that," she repeated. "I know, baby. . . Be careful, okay? . . . Call me if anything changes. . . Okay. . . No, but maybe by the time you get home." She laughed and then moaned. "Oh, is that so? . . . We'll see. You just bring that big dick back to me firmly attached to your hard body and I promise I'll get over it. " Dave opened his eyes as she smiled. His lips mimicked the same grin. "Alright. . . 'Night."

She tossed the phone onto the bed and struggled to sit. "Fuck it all," she said loudly, staring at the ceiling. "You couldn't ask a normal man to look after me?" she asked Dave. He just laughed. "This is the thanks I get for standing by you through binges and trips and enough sober bull shit to fill a legal pad? Another boyfriend who can't resist rushing headlong into battle?"

She continued mumbling as she swung her legs to the floor and shed the tee shirt she was wearing and threw on some running clothes. Why she was going out at 3:30 in the morning, Dave wasn't sure. But it wasn't out of the ordinary for her as of late, either.

With one of Randy's ball caps shoved over her hair, she headed out of the house and pocketed her keys. She would walk around the block, curse out a stray cat or two, and then head home and get ready for work. He knew that she would feel better after she got a little air.

Dave watched in silence as she continued walking, still muttering to herself about the similarities between himself and her new man. And he couldn't help but nod. This is what he had wanted - someone like himself to step in and keep her from growing lonely in his absence. Sure, she would get as aggrevated with Orton as she had always been with him. But they would work through it. And they would be good together.

As he stood by the platform, poised to put a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder, he stopped cold. When Courtney grinned brightly, Dave cringed and gritted his teeth. "You have got to be kidding me," he groaned.

"Hey," Courtney greeted, laughing as Nitro enveloped her in a friendly hug. "What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"

He stepped back, a wide smile splitting his lips. "Workin' on my final project," he explained. "I needed some inspiration."

She bit her lip and looked up at him through thick lashes. "And did you find what you were looking for?"

He nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, a knowing glint in his eye. "I think I did."

"Good grief," Dave groaned at the cheesey line. But as he watched his wife begin to walk with quirky artist, he went from annoyed to angry. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Kid? Get the fuck away from my wife."

His threatening fell on deaf ears as the pair continued walking and talking. That, of course, didn't keep Dave from ranting about how wrong they were for each other and about how this fucking kid deserved a vicious ass-beating.

He stopped complaining only when Courtney followed Nitro into a modest brick building. They walked up four flights of stairs before he stopped at a heavy sliding door and motioned for Courtney to enter. "Welcome to my home," Nitro said proudly.

Courtney stepped inside, glanced around at the open studio loft and then turned back to her host, laughing slightly. "Nitro, it's amazing."

And Dave found, for the first time alive or dead, he wanted to vomit.