My apologies to any Spanish speakers out there if I'm mangling the language beyond recognition. I don't speak any Spanish and I'm using an online translator so I bet I'm making mistakes left and right. Feel free to review and go ARRGH the GRAMMAR IS WRONG FUTO!!! How could you?! Yesh. I knows. Sorrys. No hable. I probably should have just stuck to English but I wanted my Rey-Rey to speak some Spanish...

Brirey, thanks for being the first to point out a mistake in the Español. I'm not offended, don't worry. I knew a mistake was bound to happen. But dang it, I'm lazy. I'm not gonna kidnap Rey and make him teach me correct Spanish until....well, maybe tomorrow...

Chapter 11: Trouble in Paradise

Day Four at the Haunted House

After lots of crazed shouting from all parties, they managed to run into Shawn's group, but no one had seen hide nor hair of John Cena's crew. Not to mention Triple H and Shawn were the only ones to come when called.

"Wait, where's Randy?" Rey demanded, putting his hands on his hips (he'd let go of Punk the minute he saw HBK turn the corner, not wanting to catch hell about that).

Triple H shrugged. "Don't know, don't care."

He was notoriously careless about the state of his protégé's life, even though the real Randy Orton was the farthest thing from his devilish on screen persona.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You're like a father to him!" Rey chastised.

Triple H shrugged.

"Whatever, you know how thin that little fucker is; he probably just turned sideways and slipped through a crack in the floor."

Rey rolled his eyes. "What room were you guys in when you lost him?"

"I don't know, some bedroom," Triple H said.

Shawn chuckled hysterically. "Oh, but it was some bedroom…" he said, laughing.

"Oooh, lookee here!" Shawn said and zipped his fly back up.

Triple H sniggered.

Rey smacked himself in the forehead and turned around to walk away, nauseated. "Ay, dios mio, I'm gonna go gouge my eyes out…"

Batista grabbed the waistband of Rey's jeans. "Chill out, come on back, nobody's going anywhere."

Rey turned around and reeled himself back in. He knocked Batista's hand away. "Stop grabbing me," he said, annoyed, and crossed his arms.

"I don't want to hear about your guys' nasty old sexcapades," he told the two older wrestlers.

Triple H pouted.

Shawn was about to say something dirty but Batista cut him off.

"You won't be able to have any other sexcapades if you don't shut your goddamn mouths about them."

Shawn swallowed. "Oh…okay," he chuckled nervously. "All righty then. Sorry we lost Randy, Rey."

Rey exhaled angrily. "You have no clue where he is? Did you hear a scream? When we lost Jeff we heard a scream."

"Oh, I heard a scream all right, but at the time I thought it was me, not Randy."

Rey gagged. "God…please tell me that he wasn't in the room when you two were…indisposed…"

Triple H shrugged. "Naw, I kicked him out. But yeah, I think I heard him out in the hall. When we went out he'd dropped the flashlight onto the floor and there was no sign of him."

Rey sighed anxiously. "I don't like this at all. First we lost Jericho and then Cena and Edge go missing and now Randy and Jeff are gone too."

"We're down to five people," Punk said quietly. "We started off with ten."

"I wish we had Randy here with his fucking calorie-counting calculator to tell us what percentage that is," Shawn sighed.

"That's 50%. Half. Half of ten is five," Punk stated, not sure if Shawn was being sarcastic or not. (Sweet banana pie, let's all hope he was being sarcastic.)

"I'm glad you're a wrestler and not a mathematician," Triple H sighed.

"Right back 'atcha big guy."

"He can add way better than you," Punk reminded HBK. "Oh, never mind."

"Wait a second. The ghost got Cena? Is this the same fucking ghost that we saw?" Batista said suddenly.

"Yeah, I think so," Rey said. "Why?"

"John Cena. Are you serious? Even a ghost... He's huge, how do you kidnap John Cena?" Batista asked.

They all thought about that.

"The man has a point," Triple H said.

They all walked back to the living room to think things over.

Rey and Punk plopped back down on their couch but Batista sat pointedly in between them.

Rey didn't seem to notice and that made Batista feel worthless; Rey didn't even care that he was being protective of him.

Shawn and Triple H sat in another sofa on the opposite side of the rug dividing the room.

"I don't know how the ghost was planning on snatching us, but I'm sticking with you guys. Yours was the only group that the ghost didn't get to," Triple H said, talking to Rey and Batista.

Rey paused. "Wait, really?"

Batista snorted and crossed his muscular arms impressively. "What, you thought I would let anybody grab you?"

Rey narrowed his eyes at him. "I was the one babysitting you, you fucking gorilla."

"Hey! What's with the name-calling?!"

"Everybody just calm down, we need to think this through. Maybe Dave's right, maybe the ghost has a plan. Maybe there's a reason why he chose to kidnap the people that he did," Punk said thoughtfully.

They were all quiet.

"Jericho was the first one to go," Shawn said.

"Then Jeff," Rey said.

"Then Edge and Cena," Batista finished.

"Well, then again we don't really know about the order…" Triple H pointed out. "We didn't have walkie talkies or anything, nobody told anybody else the second someone disappeared."

Punk exhaled. "Okay, forget the order, then. We can't figure it out, so let's not think about the order. Why those people? Why them?"

Batista shifted around. "Well, at first I thought that the ghost was just snatching the medium or the smaller guys. Jericho's shorter than he looks. And Jeff and Randy are far from huge, let's face it. But then Punk got away, and Shawn's still here. And, uh…"

They all turned and looked at Rey.

"If the ghost was going after small guys then he definitely would have gone after Rey first," Batista said unnecessarily.

Rey's eyes flashed. "Fuck. You."

"Sorry, Rey, it was just a theory," Batista said sheepishly.

"Oh, now that you say it out loud, you realize it's the stupidest fucking theory ever?! I'll say it again! FUCK. YOU. DAVE."

Rey crossed his arms and stood up and sat down in a chair far away from Batista. Dave was stung by this, but he tried not to show it.

"Uh, okay…so it wasn't a physical thing," Punk concluded.

"No it was not. Now get on with it. Get a new theory," Rey fumed.

Punk gulped. "Uh, yeah…um…"

They had nothing. None of this made sense.

Punk spoke up. "If the ghost who was attacking people wasn't Sylvia, then we know nothing about it. It might not have even been a ghost. It might have been a living person."

That was unlikely because the house was out in the middle of nowhere, but then again it was also unlikely that the house was haunted in the first place.

"It could be an evil ghost, a total stranger who was most likely crazy and a serial killer, or one of the guys pulling a prank," Punk added.

"If it was one of us and he's just pulling a prank then that's Jericho," Triple H said. "He was the first one to disappear, he's a schemer, and he's big enough to have grabbed Jeff and Randy."

"Yeah, if it was a prank then I don't think Jeff and Randy were in on it," Punk agreed. "I love those two, but God knows they're not bright or sinister enough to come up with a plan to successfully kidnap half of us."

They all sighed.

"If it's one of the guys who's responsible for this then it could be anybody save for Jeff and Randy. That leaves too many options. That theory gets too complicated. Too confusing," Batista put in.

"I know, and your beautiful little 'grab the cruiserweights first' theory was sooo much better," Rey shot at him.

Batista swallowed. "I said I was sorry…"

"Not. Listening."

Punk looked at Batista and back at Rey. "Can you two please stop fighting for just one second? We need to work this out!"

Rey sat forward in his chair all of a sudden.

"It wasn't one of us, Punk! You saw that thing, too! You know it's not one of the guys! You know that! That thing emanated ill will, I'm telling you! And none of us are that psycho in WWE!" Rey reasoned.

"None of us that came on this trip, anyway," Shawn put in. "Kane would love it here. We might be staying at his vacation house for all we know."

Triple H managed to suppress his laughter at that.

"Well, then again, you might be psycho enough to pull something like this off, you sick pervert," Rey informed HBK.

"I'm hurt, Rey. Really hurt," Shawn said sarcastically.

"That is true, though," Triple H agreed.

Shawn smacked him to the back of the head. "No more nookie for you for like a week."

Rey smacked himself in the forehead again. "I don't want to hear this…"

Triple H shrugged. "Whatever, HBK, you'll just come crawling back to me sooner or later."

"ARRGH! Can you just shut your mouths?!" Rey yelled.

Triple H shrugged again. "My bad."

Rey held his face in his hands. "Jesus, I don't want anybody to talk about sex any more, ever again…"

Batista sighed. "Rey…"

"I'm not talking to you, so you can shut up too for all I care!" Rey spat out venomously.

Batista's face fell. Rey must have been really hurt by that comment about his size. Dave couldn't blame him.

"Come on, guys, why? We still haven't dealt with why certain people were taken," Punk pressed.

"The ghost didn't get me, you or Dave because we all ran the hell out of there," Rey said. "I know that much."

Batista brightened. "Rey, that's it!"

"What's it?"

"Punk knows when to run and so do you."

"God knows you don't," Rey reminded him. "There goes your theory."

"No! No! I was with you the whole time, and then Punk told me to take off!"

"What, you want a medal for taking advice for the first time in your entire damn life?!" Rey asked, still ticked off about Batista's size-related theory.

Batista tried to ignore that remark. "No, I don't. I'm just saying that I was safe because I was with you and Punk! Punk was safe because he's smart, and Triple H was safe because he's with HBK! All of the guys that got taken were not the brightest bulbs on the planet. Cena could have run, but he's so fucking stubborn he probably tried to get in a fistfight with the goddamn kidnapper and that's how they got him! The guys who were taken are dim, or stubborn, and don't know when to quit. Punk, Michaels and you, Rey, are the ones who always run."

Triple H grimaced. That had come out really, really badly.

"Oh, so I'm a coward now?" Rey inquired, absolutely death-glaring Batista by now. "I'm a small coward. Thanks a lot. That's great to know. Why don't you go fuck yourself Dave? Or better yet, head down into that fucking basement that you're so scared of!"

Dead silence.

"If you'd just phrased that nicer, Dave, he wouldn't have thought you meant that," Triple H whispered to Batista.

Rey rubbed his temples; exhausted, confused, scared, and thoroughly, thoroughly pissed off. "So what theories are we left with?"

"It's an evil ghost, demon, or stranger that took everybody. And it doesn't really matter which," Punk said succinctly. "They all seem like they're roughly in the same ballpark."

Rey nodded. "Okay. All right. Well…should we look for everyone again tonight?"

"I don't think we should start searching again just yet. All of our nerves are fried and we're tired and hungry and nobody's getting along. It would be dangerous to be wandering around an old house in darkness with no advantages at all," Punk advised.

Rey nodded. "Yeah."

"We can start searching first thing in the morning for the guys, though, Rey, don't worry about it," Triple H assured the luchador, seeing the concern on Rey's face.

Mysterio looked up at him and blinked. "Okay. Tomorrow."

"We'll find everybody, Rey, I'm sure they're all right," Punk added.

Rey nodded. "I hope so."

"Don't you start blaming yourself, I know that look," Batista warned him.

Rey looked Batista right in the eye and stared him down.

"I do not need you to tell me who I am and what I look like and what's good for me. I don't want to talk to you, Dave. Get that through your thick, thick, skull that I do not want anything to do with you right now."

And with that, Rey stood up and stormed clear out of the room.

Batista was on his feet already.

"REY! REY, COME BACK HERE! YOU CAN'T JUST-" Dave swore. "Damn it, he's already gone upstairs."

Punk gasped. "Oh, God, look what you did! He's gonna go get himself kidnapped or worse, Dave!"

"God! Couldn't you lay off him for just one second? First you call him small and then you say he always runs? And now you're trying to tell him how to act?! Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Triple H demanded.

Batista bit his lip. "I didn't mean any of that, it just came out all wrong, and I didn't mean it that way."

Triple H shook his head. "Rey has never been anything but kind to you. And you insult him? He can't change his size! And he's not a coward, just because he's fast doesn't mean he's a coward! And don't even get me started about you laying into him about how he thinks." Triple H stepped within an inch of Batista's face, ready to start a brawl right then and there.

HBK sat back and grinned, loving the chaos.

"We're lucky that Rey thinks about us at all," Punk said quietly.

Triple H looked at him and backed off of Dave. He'd leave it to C.M. Punk to fight with someone intellectually.

"He thinks about you the most out of all of us."

Batista opened his mouth to protest, not wanting to get attacked for being Rey's pet.

Punk cut him off.

"You know it's true. He starts fights over you. He defends you to everyone. He's your friend. And you're lucky that you ever enter his mind in the first place. Rey doesn't have to think about you. You think he doesn't have enough crap to deal with already? He has a family he could be thinking about. And friends outside of wrestling. And fans. He could be thinking of just wrestling moves all the time and say 'fuck the guys, I don't care that they're bashing each other's faces in again.' He could leave us all alone, but he never does. He takes the time to pull us off each other, make us apologize, make us be okay with each other, clean us up, and pretty much tuck us in every night. Then he has to go and take care of himself. I can't even believe he has the energy to do it after spending a day with you, Batista, I really can't! Rey has to go through the whole process at least twice a day with you!"

Batista didn't know what to say. It was all true. Rey didn't have to take care of them at all. Or him. And he did it so well.

Punk kept going.

"Rey worries about us. He protects Randy and Jeff and humors Shawn and Jericho and laughs at Cena's jokes and compliments Triple H and Edge when they're down. He talks to me all the time," Punk had tears in his eyes now. "He doesn't have to, but he does. And you, Dave. He's so nice to you. And you never notice. You never thank him. And so he's scared that some of us have been taken and may not come back. He's hurt and he's worried about other people. How can you possibly fault him for that? He loves us, Dave. And he loves you. You are lucky Rey ever thinks of you and you basically go and tell him you hate him for doing just that."

Batista was floored. Shawn Michaels nearly swallowed his own tongue; he was speechless for once.

Triple H nodded emphatically. He had been right to leave the mental smack down to Punk.

Batista blinked a few times and fell down into the chair Rey had been sitting in, miserable. "He thinks I hate him…oh, God, Rey…"

Rey came back downstairs briefly to eat something hours later. It was midnight.

Batista was lying on a couch pretending to be asleep and HBK was actually asleep on the other couch.

Punk and HHH rushed over to Rey, making sure he was all right.

Rey hugged Punk gratefully and assured him he'd been fine alone upstairs.

"Are you sure you're okay, Rey? Because I could come up with you," Punk whispered.

"Yeah, we both could," Triple H suggested.

Rey shook his head. "I need to be alone, I'm sorry. And I'd feel better if you guys would all stick together, at least. We don't need to split up. That's the last thing we need."

"But, Rey-"

"No buts. I want to be alone," Rey said firmly.

They were silent.

"I heard those talks you gave," Rey admitted quietly. "That was…that was nice of you."

Batista couldn't tell visually if Rey was smiling, but from that voice he knew he was.

"That meant a lot to me. Thanks, Triple H," Rey said, hugging him. "And thank you, too, Punk, that was very kind of you, all those things you said," he squeezed the Straight Edge superstar.

Batista could tell two of them had tears in their eyes.

"Rey, we don't want to lose you," Punk protested.

"Please stay down here with us, Rey, please," Triple H begged.

Triple H. Begging.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll just be upstairs in the bedroom Dave and I had been sleeping in. If anybody needs me then they can come get me," Rey sighed. "Although if it's Dave that needs me, I recommend you send somebody else."

"Okay, Rey. Goodnight," Punk said, admitting defeat.

"Goodnight," Triple H echoed.

"Buenos noches."

And with that, Rey stepped almost silently back up the stairs.

Batista was surprised that he could sleep so soundly despite feeling so guilty and worried about Rey's safety.