Roman's tires burned against the frozen roads. Getting pulled over was not a risk he was considering, and wrecking his vehicle and winding up in the hospital alongside Seth wasn't one he wanted to consider. He had to get to Seth, Dean had to get to him, as soon as humanly possible.

Dean sprinted into the waiting room far ahead of Roman, who strived to keep up with him. He smacked his hands against the desk as words tumbled from his mouth. "My name's Dean. My brother Seth is in here. What happened? Is he okay?"

The receptionist was patient—or unconcerned. "He should be out in a little while."

"Can't I go see him?"

"He'll be out shortly," she answered sternly. "You can see him then."

Dean's hand balled into a fist. Roman took hold of him before he tried anything. "Thank you," he told the flippant receptionist. "Come on," he urged Dean. "We just have to wait. I'm sure he's fine. He's here now. They're taking care of him."

"Dammit," Dean snarled under his breath. The hand Roman held loosened in the grip, but the fingers on his other hand curled up tight into his palm. "It was them. I know it was. It was the fucking Wyatt brothers."

"Let's see what the doctors say," Roman said. He wanted to be the rock here, a sturdy support for Dean's fragility. He was concerned for Seth as well, and he would have bet his next paycheck the Wyatt brothers were responsible for his dire circumstances. But one of them had to be strong, the sensible mind. If not, Dean and Roman could have torn this entire waiting room apart, screaming for answers and raging on about the despicable gang.

"A little while" lasted well over two hours. The emergency room was stuffed with impatient, anxious patients, to the surprise of neither Roman nor Dean. Black Friday-sustained injuries, they guessed. People getting into brawls over discounted televisions, swinging fists and feet and even shelved items at one another to score the perfect deal. Roman hated this day. But now, in this situation, he could hate this one in particular all the more.

Dean was clearly miserable. He could never stay sitting still for too long. He paced the floor, hands on his hips, wandering towards the front desk—wherein Roman would interfere and escort him back to the chairs. He pressed his hands to his face and breathed through his fingers. Roman wanted to hold him, but it didn't appear to do any good as Dean was so restless.

At last the door swung open and Seth appeared instead of a triage nurse to summon another patient to an examination room. He looked like hell, with abrasions on his forehead and nose, and an open cut on his upper lip. Dean sprouted from his chair and galloped towards Seth. He opened his arms for a hug which was short-lived as Seth winced and forcefully pulled away.

"Sorry," he groaned. "Pretty bruised under here."

A young female doctor was behind him. "Hi, are you—"

"Family," Dean cut her off. "What happened?"

"He was assaulted." Her eyes fell onto her clipboard. "Bruising on the ribcage, right hip and pelvis, and these lacerations here. Only one of them was bad enough to require stitches, this one here on the forehead."

Dean's hands went over his head. His eyes were red, brimming with tears. "Was it…" Roman heard the unspoken question in his voice.

"Yeah," Seth said, looking sad and somber. It was them. Those gray eyes went to Roman. "Hey, Roman."

"Hi, Seth." Roman pitied him. He couldn't imagine how shaken Dean was. He didn't have to imagine—it was all there as if stamped in bold print across Dean's beautiful face.

"I've given him the care instructions he'll need to follow this week." She gave a paper packet to Dean, who automatically handed it off to Roman. "We've already filled out a report with the police. He just needs to be under good care for a little while, but he'll be alright."

"Lucky to be alive," Roman said. The doctor nodded.

"Just come back and see me if you have any other questions, alright, Seth?"

"Sure thing. Thanks, doc," Seth said.

Checkout and payment took a little while longer. Dean offered to cover the expenses upon realizing another painful truth to Seth's predicament: he'd been robbed of his wallet in the attack.

Dean could no longer take the wait. Outside the emergency room in the wintry air, he asked, "What the fuck happened, Seth?"

"I was off work and getting gas on my way home," Seth explained. "Didn't think much of the danger. I get gas all the time, night or day. Decent part of town. Thought nothing of it. Suddenly it was just…pain. Couldn't see much. Just realized I was hurt. I heard incoherent hollering, yelling. Me by myself outside this little gas station. Took me a while to realize I was getting fuckin' ambushed." Seth shivered violently. His jacket was thin and torn in several places. Roman decided to put the explanation on hold until they were in the warm car.

"Let's get you boys home. Come on," he beckoned.

Dean stayed with Seth in the backseat while Roman drove. Roman would have insisted Dean sit back with him anyway, even if it hadn't been Dean's outspoken idea first. "There were a lot of 'em," Seth went on. "Couldn't say how many, exactly. Bray was there. I heard his voice in my head. His laugh. It was creepy as hell. Then, quick as they'd come, they were gone. An attendant from inside was calling the cops. I would have called you, but those fuckers grabbed my phone and my wallet."

"I'm so sorry," Dean said. Roman wondered if the guilt stung just as badly in Dean as it did within him. "I was—wait. You said they took your phone?"

"Yeah. The guy at the gas station, he's the one who called for the police and the ambulance. I don't think I could have called you, even if I had my phone, because I had no idea what was going on."

"Seth, I have a missed call from you, and a text that says 'I'M IN THE ER, HURT BAD.' It even said which hospital you'd been transported to." Dean wrestled his phone out of his jeans' pocket to verify this statement.

"I didn't send it," Seth insisted.

Roman's throat tightened. His neck broke out in a freezing cold sweat. He felt his hands shaking as they gripped the steering wheel tight, his mind drawing the same conclusion Dean was just arriving at.

"They did," Dean said, swallowing hard. "They took your phone and sent that to me."

"But how'd they know which hospital he was at?" Roman inquired.

"They followed me," Seth said, voice low. "Just like they followed me to the gas station. They were…stalking me."

"Seth, they have everything on you now," Roman said, eyeing him in the rearview mirror. It was a horrific thing to say, but the truth was too severe to neglect. "If they have your wallet, they've got your license. Your home address. Your full name. With your phone, they have Dean's info, mine…" He found himself glancing into the rearview mirror more often than usual now, checking for any suspicious vehicles.

Seth leaned his head back and groaned. "I hate these guys so much."

"I'm gonna kill them," Dean said. There it was again, that voice Roman didn't recognize out of his mouth. He was no longer Roman's angelic musician—he sounded like a soul possessed. "I swear to fucking God, I will fucking kill them for this."

"Dean, no," Roman said. "That's exactly what they want out of you."

"Roman's right," Seth concurred. "They used me to get to you. Don't go charging up to them alone—they'll have you where they want you, and that isn't good news for anyone."

"I don't care!" Dean exclaimed. "If it's me they want, then me's all they're gonna get. They can't be dragging my family into this."

"They're not going to get you," Roman contended.

"No, they're not, but they're sure as hell not going to come near Seth again. Or even you, Ro. Not on my life."

"Don't say that, Dean," Seth said.

"Guys, here's a thought, okay?" Roman interrupted before Dean confirmed any demented propositions. "If they have your phone, your address, if they've proven by now they've been following Seth"—he paused once more to check the mirror—"then it's probably not the smartest thing for you guys to go home tonight."

"You think they might break in?" Seth asked, sounding surprised.

"I don't think it's beneath them. I don't even know these guys all that well, but yeah, that sounds like something they would do."

"It sure fucking does," Dean muttered.

"My roommate is out of town. I think it'd be best for you guys to just crash at my place. Just for a night, if you like. I can swing by your apartment tomorrow and check for damage. I just…I don't want you there tonight. Not right now."

"I won't argue with that," Seth stated.

"Yeah, neither will I. Slumber party. Sounds like a hoot." There was no humor in the sentence, no matter how light Dean wanted to sound. "But I don't want you going there alone tomorrow."

"I'll be fine."

"The hell you will."

"You're not coming with me, Dean."

"Ro—"

"We can all go," Seth interjected. "We're safer as a team. Even if they are there—not saying they will be, but if they are—it's still three on four or five, or however many of his hillbilly pricks Bray brings along with him."

Roman didn't like that. He didn't want Dean in harm's way, nor Seth to face any more potential injury. But if this was the only way for things to go, he had to go along for the ride. It was their home, after all. They'd have to go back at some point. "Seth, do your parents know about the Wyatt brothers, by chance?"

"They know Dean's had trouble with specific guys in the past. They don't know the whole story, and we've never used their names around 'em."

"Okay. If this goes on for too long—if they're keeping an eye on your place—might not be a bad idea to stay with them for a few days. Assuming they're cool with that."

"Yeah, they should be. If my mom found out, she'd probably freak. So maybe we don't fill her in completely."

"Or we can just move in with Roman and…what was your roommate's name again? Randy?" Dean guessed. "We could all just live together. One big, happy family."

Roman chuckled without smiling. He'd have to learn how again after tonight. "Now, there's a fun thought, but I don't think there's enough room for four of us at my place."

"Shoot. Maybe after you graduate, then."

"We'll see," Roman said, and that was the last of the conversation until Roman swung his car into a parking spot at his apartment complex.

He allowed Seth to change into some of his clothes—they fit him alright, though a little big, a bit loose on his thinner figure—and cleansed Seth's clothes along with some of his own in a quick cycle on the washing machine. Seth had bruising on his ribcage, right hip and pelvis. The damage was awful, but it could have been a lot worse. Roman was thankful it wasn't.

"Got anything I can wear?" Dean asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Take your pick," Roman said, feeling a smile coming on. There it was.

Dean slipped past Roman into his bedroom. Before getting to the closet, he admired everything Roman had, from the towers of textbooks and spirals and composition books by his laptop on his desk, the dozens of action figures, comic books and posters, the bookshelf crammed with CDs, DVDs and books from dozens of genres. Roman was fairly organized. His room wasn't spec-free, but everything had a place where he could find it with no trouble. Overly-clean rooms reminded him of hospitals. They were boring and, for whatever reason, depressing to him. He liked a little mess.

"This one's fitting," Dean said, fingering a painted Superman miniature atop his bookshelf.

It made Roman smile wider. "You really think I'm Superman?"

"Absolutely."

Dean finally made it to the closet, browsing through band tees and collared shirts like he was a customer in a department store. Roman caught him grinning at all the superhero shirts. "Oh, that's awesome," Dean said through laughter, lifting one of Roman's favorite shirts up—it was black, and in yellow print were the letters "NA" in parentheses raised to the sixteenth power; underneath the formula was the word "Batman."

"Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, Batmaaaan," Dean sang, revealing the joke of the shirt aloud. "Classic Roman. Killer nerd." He yanked it off the hanger and replaced his own shirt with Roman's. "See? You've got a thing for Batman, too. Even as a Superman lover."

"Guess I do." Roman's shirt looked good on Dean. Rather, Dean looked damn good in his clothes.

"Got any sweats? I mean, I'll take them off to sleep, anyway, but…you know."

Roman showed him the drawer of pajama bottoms and allowed him to change in private while he checked on Seth, who he'd laid on the couch under a down comforter.

"Hey, you good?" Roman asked. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine. Roman, listen to me though, okay?" He began to sit up. He couldn't move too much, too fast. "You need to keep an eye on Dean." His voice dropped to hush levels. "I know him. I know how crazy he can act sometimes. He would be the type to go after the Wyatts, on his own, thinking he's protecting us that way."

"I suspected as much."

"Don't let him, okay? No matter what. We need to look out for him."

"I understand. And I agree with you, on everything."

Seth pushed hair from his eyes. "Ro, I love Dean more than anyone on this earth. My family, yeah, sure, love them to death, but for him, it's different. He's more than family to me. He's my best friend. My other half. We've got this massive history, and…" He leaned his head back against the pillow, eyes wide at the ceiling. He cast out a long breath before concluding, "I can't lose him."

Roman sat at the end of the couch, near Seth's feet. "I'm not going to let anything happen to him. I swear that to you, Seth. I'll swear it to him, and right now I swear it to myself. So long as I'm around, nothing else is going to happen to you, and nothing is sure as hell going to happen to him."

"That means so much to me, Roman. You have no idea. Thank you."

"Of course." Roman patted Seth's leg through the blanket. "Now, I'm gonna let Dean take my bed, if he wants, and I'll crash in Randy's room. If he wants to be out here with you, that's fine too. Y'all can use all the blankets and pillows you want."

"You're the best, dude. Seriously. I owe you everything."

"Nah, man, you really don't. Apparently I'm Superman, and this is just my job."

"You need a raise."

Roman smiled. "Thanks."

Dean was in the doorway when Roman returned to him. He wondered how much of the conversation Dean had heard.

"You want my bed, or out here with Seth?" Roman asked him.

"I want your bed, but with you," Dean admitted.

"I'm really sorry, Dean, but I don't think anything should happen tonight…"

"Nothing has to happen. I just want to know I'm not…you know. Alone."

Roman's heart cracked. "You're not alone, Dean. You're never alone. Come here."

Dean fell into his open arms. Roman held him tighter than anything he'd ever held in his life. So long as I'm holding him, nothing can—

Dean's phone buzzed.

Roman felt his heart—or was that his and Dean's?—drumming as Dean raised the phone to his face. The screen lit up with Seth's name and photo.

"Fuck," Dean whispered.

"Don't answer it," Roman advised.

He didn't, but the caller had left a voicemail. It was a rather lengthy message that Dean obviously felt he had to listen to. Roman couldn't stop him. He had to agree.

"I tried to warn you, Dean," Bray's distinct voice came through the speaker. Through a sadistic giggle, he said again, "I tried to warn you! I opened up my home to you, Ambrose. I welcomed you into my family. You were a brother. You were a friend. And what did my brother decide to do to me? He decided that he was a little smarter than old Bray Wyatt. He decided to try to fool that silly old Bray Wyatt. You thought you were so clever. You thought you could get away with the heist of the century, like you're some sort of con man…but guess what? I have you, Ambrose. I've had you from the start, and whether you think you're free of me or not…guess what? I still own you. Everything that you are, belongs to me. Your friend, Seth? He suffered tonight because of you. I hurt him real bad, me and my boys. Because he got in the way. He got in the way of what's meant to be. Your destiny lies with us, Dean Ambrose, and nothing is gonna get in the way of that. Your precious Seth Rollins is proof of everything that is to happen if you don't come on home to Bray Wyatt. Who else will suffer for your mistakes, Dean? What about your new friend? The shaggy one? Mr. Muscles? Should I go after him now? Is he my next little plaything? You want it to stop, you can't make it stop, there isn't anything you can do to protect the people you love except come home. The choice is yours. Choose wisely. Either way, I'll be seeing you soon." Laughter.

The voicemail ended.

Dean couldn't say a word. He fell into Roman's embrace again.

"Don't worry, Dean," Roman said, feeling terrified on Dean's behalf. Terrified and angry. How dare this man speak this way, how dare he. He'd messed with the wrong people, and now Roman was involved. He was going to see to Dean and Seth's safety, one way or another.

This was war.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

"I trust you," Dean whimpered.

He was right to do so.