Hey, guys. I'm really sorry I didn't update this story sooner. This week has been hell. I'm struggling to recover from a very nasty breakup. Hard to write with a broken heart. But I'm back, and as I get stronger day by day, so does my drive to bring you more of this epic story. I hope this chapter makes up for my short absence. Lemme know what you think!

Roman woke up flailing and gasping for breath. His clothes were plastered to his body in a cold sweat.

He was alone in bed, a thought that concerned him for but a moment. He glanced at the nightstand—not his own, but one had Dean had brought along from his old apartment and assembled on "his" side of the bed—and saw Dean's stupid Windows phone still plugged into its charger.

Surely he wouldn't have left home without that.

Right?

With Dean there was no telling. Roman would have to get up and find out for himself.

Dean's phone screen lit up. Instinctively Roman took a look at it. His heart was warmed to see Dean had finally figured out how to set his own picture as wallpaper, and the photo he'd selected was one of Dean, Seth and himself the other night at the Wayside Cafe. All three were smiling. They looked so happy.

But the phone had lit up because Dean had a text message.

Roman's curiosity gained advantage. After Seth's declaration of a mysterious phone call, he needed to at least make sure Dean was safe.

The sender's contact information was not saved in Dean's phone, as above the message was merely a phone number as opposed to a full name. The message underneath was chilling.

Confirmed meeting The Marriott South, tonight at 10:30. Go to reception and ask for Jeff.

Jeff? Who the hell was Jeff?

Did he have anything to do with the Wyatts or Dean's plight with them?

Wrong number?

He had to find Dean, now.

Roman pushed out of bed. He didn't bother getting dressed in spite of the frigid room temperature.

Dean was alone in the living room, Roman found. The fireplace was going, the blinds were drawn closed, and the lights were on. Dean sat perched on the couch, bowl of cereal balanced on his knees, in front of an unfamiliar show on TV.

"Morning," Roman said.

"Morning," Dean said, flaunting a smile. "Ever seen Dallas before?"

"I've heard of it. Never watched it, though."

"Neither one?"

"I didn't know there was…more than one."

"Ah, dude, it's fantastic. It ran from 1978 to 1991, then they rebooted it in 2012 and that went for two years. Can't beat the original, but the reboot wasn't too bad."

"What's it about?" Roman went from frosty to sweltering in the cozy living room. He lowered himself on the couch beside Dean. Dean tried so hard not to get caught ogling at the nearly nude Roman. The effort was adorable as Dean's eyes twitched, fluttering from Roman's own eyes to down at his body.

"It's a soap opera. Started off about this marriage between Bobby Ewing and Pamela Barnes, and their families hated each other. Then oil tycoon J.R. Ewing became the main focus. All of his dirty deeds and whatnot."

"Hmm." It didn't sound like Roman's cup of tea, but if Dean liked the show, there had to be something good about it. Dean was picky. "Where's Seth?"

"Work. He'll be off at three." Dean was helpless looking at Roman now. He was succumbing to his feelings. "So we have the place to ourselves for a long time…" He set the cereal bowl on the side table.

"Yeah, we do," Roman said, feeling a smirk. He loved, loved, loved the way Dean looked at him. It was not a look of lust, not merely of physical attraction and that known passion about him…but Roman knew that when Dean looked at him, he had love in his eyes and commitment in his heart.

Roman was Dean's, all Dean's, and Dean was all Roman's.

Dean leaned into Roman, his breath warm on Roman's neck. "Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

"Not ever, I don't think," Roman said.

"You are. Might be a weird way to describe a muscular hottie like you, but…it's true. You are beautiful. Inside and out." Dean touched a hand to Roman's chest, above his rapidly beating heart. His fingers were cold. Roman decided to fix that by taking hold of Dean's hand and pressing them against his own warm cheek. Then he drew them to his lips and kissed each finger.

Dean leaned further in, putting his lips on Roman's.

Roman closed his eyes and dove into the pool of ardor—

But it was a shallow pool. Cold water. No lifeguard on duty.

All he could see with his eyes closed was that helpless look Dean gave him in his dream. Bray Wyatt's face took the place of his love's as Bray crushed Roman's chest beneath his oversized foot.

Roman gasped, yanking out of the kiss.

"Ro?" Dean asked, pale. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just…" Roman pushed hair from his face and took in the comfort of his real surroundings. With a sharp sigh he said, "Just had a nightmare."

"Well, whatever it was, it was only a dream."

Was it, though?

"Come here. I'll give you something better to think about." The cocky smile was back. "Wish your neck wasn't all taped up. I'd try on you what you do to me. Gives me goosebumps every time."

Dean gently pushed Roman back so he was lying flat on the couch. Dean moved atop him, his feet brushing against Roman's, his face just beneath.

Dean planted a line of kisses from Roman's collarbone—opposite side of the bandage—down his chest. Sloppy kisses turned into a muscled assault as Dean glided that sexy tongue of his down Roman's chest. Roman groaned, biting down on his lip as Dean lapped over perhaps one of the most sensitive areas of his body, his nipples, which were now stiff and standing. Dean caught onto this and spent a little more time here, gliding his tongue skillfully, leaving behind a gleam on both of Roman's nipples.

Roman's eyes closed again and once more tried to concentrate on his love, his love and nothing but—

He saw the text message behind his eyelids. Each letter, word for word, spelling out the mystery.

The thoughts overlapped one another. Who is Jeff—wrong number—Dean—Wyatts—who—meeting—what is he up to—what is he hiding—

Roman grunted. He wouldn't be able to focus on this right now, despite the sudden tightness of his boxer shorts. He sat up, even with Dean still on him. Dean was suddenly in his lap, just above his aching, erect dick.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, a bit more sternly this time. He wouldn't take "nothing" for an answer. Fortunately Roman was willing to be more honest. He wasn't sure, however, if Dean would.

"Okay, so don't get mad at me…" Roman said.

"Why would I get mad at—"

"—but I was getting up this morning and your phone went off, and I wasn't snooping or anything, but I saw you had a text. Something about a meeting? With a guy named Jeff?"

Roman stared at Dean's face, studying it carefully, inspecting for any indication that Dean was about to lie right to his face.

But his face didn't alter. Not in the slightest.

His eyebrows dipped and his eyes lowered. "My uncle?"

He asked as though Roman was supposed to know that. "Jeff is your uncle?"

"Yeah. He's my dad's brother. He's in town on business for a few days, and he wanted to check in on me, see how I'm doing." He clamped his mouth shut, as though rambling on and on the way he usually did—when he was trying to hide something—would give something away.

Roman raised an eyebrow. Why would his own uncle require Dean to ask for him by name at their meeting place?

"What else did it say?"

"Just confirming a meeting with him." Roman forced out the specifics. "Tonight. 10:30."

"Sounds about right. Assuming his flight makes it in on time. Might get delayed because of the weather. It's a blizzard out there."

"Is it?" Poor Seth, having to work out in these conditions. He considered what he could do for Seth when he got home, to help warm him up.

"That's why the blinds are closed," Dean explained. "Thought it might help keep the cold out. Or something."

Roman wasn't ready to give up on this yet. "So you're meeting your uncle tonight. Can I come? It would be interesting to meet one of your family members."

Roman caught Dean's tongue going over his lip. Like he was nervous. "Might not be a good idea right now, Roman. Someday, but…he doesn't know much about me right now. I kinda want to fill him in easily. Slow and steady."

"You don't want him knowing you're with me?"

"Not right now. Maybe someday." He sounded irritated.

"You…ashamed of me or something?" Roman hated to throw that line out there, but he really wanted the truth out of Dean. So far he sensed Dean was feeding him anything but.

"No," Dean said, gasping. "No, not at all, Roman. You know this. I'll make out with you stark naked on a bed in a Macy's, that's how proud I am to have someone like you."

The obscure thought made Roman forget about his irritation, just for a moment, and laugh earnestly.

"It's just…he's a weird guy. He's the holier-than-thou, judgmental type. Really reserved, disapproving of a lot. I just have to butter him up a little before I fill him in on how my life's gone to shit lately. With one notable exception."

Roman nodded. What a crock. "Okay. What about Seth? Seth is innocent in all of this. He's not someone your uncle would disapprove of, right?"

"Dunno, Ro. Maybe he's not, or maybe he'll chew Seth out for being a three-time college dropout."

Roman was stunned. He hadn't been aware of that bit of information. Had Dean meant to be so forward? How could he be brutally honest about Seth's life and not his own? Didn't he trust Roman?

"There's no telling. That's why this meeting has to run smoothly. This is the first contact I've had with a blood family member in years. I don't want to screw it up, Roman, I don't." Dean looked him straight in the eyes, cutting into the soul. "Do you have my back on this, or not?"

Dean was sad. Truly sad. Whatever this meeting consisted of, whether or not it was really with an uncle, Dean was desperate for everything to go right. Roman wasn't going to get anything else out of him for the time being. He didn't want to nag.

But he wanted to know.

"Sure, I do, Dean. Of course."

Seth would have to help him out. Roman was anxious for him to get home. This was a mystery they could solve together. It would be tricky, considering their lead witness was more than likely lying through his beautiful teeth. But they could do it together.

Roman just wanted Dean out of harm's way. This wasn't to be an obsessive, jealous, mistrustful boyfriend. This was for Dean's own good.

Dean bought Roman's conclusion to the discussion. He kissed Roman's cheek. Roman was limp again. His stomach growled, begging for breakfast.

"Ready for breakfast?" Dean teased.

"Yeah."

Roman changed his dressing before eating. He washed his hands in the bathroom and carefully removed the bandage from his neck. The skin was red and blotchy. The stitches were bold and black, very apparent. It looked hideous. Wearing a thick, fluffy, white bandage over the area somehow looked more attractive. He followed his doctor's instructions and cleaned the wound warily before applying the new dressing.

"I look like Frankenstein with a missing bolt," Roman said, staring his own reflection down.

Behind him, Dean wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. "Still Superman to me."

Dean watched another episode of Dallas while Roman made himself an egg sandwich. As he sat down on the couch to eat, someone knocked on the door. The knocks were quick and loud. Frantic.

Roman and Dean traded frightful glances.

"Who the hell?" Dean asked.

If it's this Jeff guy, maybe I can get some answers. But what a ridiculous thought, Roman thought, setting his plate to the side. Jeff doesn't know where I live. Whoever he is.

Roman opened the coat closet and yanked a jacket off a hanger. As he pulled it on over his arms, there came another loud series of knocks.

"Okay, chill," Roman said. He grabbed the doorknob, gained a smarter idea, and pressed his eye against the peephole.

"Who is it?" Dean queried.

"Oh, my God," Roman breathed. He couldn't get the door open fast enough. Finally he pulled it open and took in the full, wonderful sight of Randy Orton standing outside.

"Hey, Randy," he said. "What are you doing here?"

Randy looked panicked. "Are you okay, Ro?"

"I'm hanging in there."

Randy stepped into the warm apartment. Roman locked the door tight behind him. "I heard about the shooting at J/C this morning. I was freaking out, 'cause I know you always work on Thursday nights. Then I couldn't find you on campus, and nobody had seen you…" He ran a hand over his face and looked Roman up and down. "You had me scared, man."

"I'm…sorry. If it had been my choice, there definitely wouldn't have been a shooting."

Randy moved in for a hug, but he cringed at the sight of Roman's bandage. "Holy fuck. Did you get shot, Roman?"

"Maybe a little."

"He took a bullet to the neck and pulled through like a champ," Dean said.

"It was just a graze," Roman clarified. "It wasn't too bad. I got stitches."

Randy filled the gap between them, his chin over Roman's healthy shoulder. His squeeze was tight, strong, brotherly. Roman missed the hell out of Randy while he was gone, and those feelings came to him in a heavy reminder as they held one another.

"I'm just glad you're okay, man."

"Thanks, Randy. It means a lot that you came to check on me."

Randy pulled away. "So, what about work, then? I drove by the coffeeshop and it was all closed off. Yellow tape, police cars, the works."

"Dunno. I'm waiting to hear from Dolph or my boss or something."

"It's completely closed off?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Randy confirmed.

"Dammit," Dean said, slapping his knee. "My guitar might still be in there. I never grabbed her before I went to the hospital with Roman."

"Once I hear from someone from work, I'll see about getting inside and getting Annie back," Roman promised.

"Sounds good. I really miss her. My fingers are actually hurting, not playing her right now."

Roman was delighted to see Randy pulling off his boots. It meant he was staying, at least for a little while. "The place looks smaller, somehow," he noted, eyes inspecting every inch of his former home. "I take it you found a replacement for me?" he asked, smiling towards Dean.

"Seth took over your bedroom," Roman said. "Dean kinda shares mine."

"Right on. Oh, dude, is this Dallas?"

"My favorite show," Dean said.

"Sick, man." Randy sat on the couch next to Dean. "Is this pre-Who shot J.R., or post-Who shot J.R.?"

"This is a way earlier episode. Practically pre-J.R."

"Did you ever play the board game?"

"There's a board game?"

"Of course there's a board game. It was the seventies and eighties. Everything got a game back then."

"Everything still gets a game," Dean pointed out. "This time it's just video."

"And most of them blow."

"True that."

Roman was thrilled to see them both here, getting along, talking like this. He helped himself to his sandwich on the other side of the couch. While Randy and Dean dove into a conversation about video games, Roman sent a text Seth's way, expecting him to reply whenever he was on break or lunch.

Does Dean have an Uncle Jeff?

It was an hour later, while Dean was introducing Randy to his very first round of Metal Wars on Seth's Xbox, when Roman received an answer.

None I've ever heard about.

That figures, Roman thought.

"My character is such a badass!" Randy cried, laughing like an evil villain. "He just pulled a flamethrower out of his arm."

"Which class are you?" Dean asked. "Oh, yeah, him. He's like Captain Hook, except instead of replacing his lost hand with a hook, it's with a flamethrower."

"This is so fucking sick. Unrealistic as hell, but sick."

Roman's phone buzzed again. He hid his character away in a corner to protect himself from the enemy, and read the next message from Seth.

Why? Something up?

He tapped out a quick response: Dean got a text from some guy named Jeff confirming a meeting between them. Said it was his uncle but idk. Gotta check up on it. Not getting any answers from him.

"Oh, Roman…" Dean sang.

Roman glanced up at the screen just in time to watch his soldier get blown away by a sniper at close range.

"You cheat," Roman laughed. "Sniping isn't for up close."

"Quit hiding away like a little bitch."

Roman cooked up a frozen pizza for lunch a little later on, and it was a relaxing, cold afternoon for the three of them. Nothing but games, cheap food, trash talk and warm hearts.

Randy did have to leave for class around the same time Seth was expected to be home. He pulled on his coat and boots and gave Roman another careful hug.

"You're a trooper, Roman Reigns. Don't ever believe otherwise."

"Thanks, Randy. It was so good to see you. You have no idea."

Randy smiled. "And Dean? Look out for him, alright? No more bullets."

"Yes, sir. I won't let anything else happen to him." He braided his fingers with Roman's.

Before Roman could open the door for Randy, the lock unlatched on his own. Aided by a key from the outside, Roman realized as Seth pushed into the apartment.

He looked sick. That was made clear right away.

"Hey, Seth," Randy said.

"What's wrong with you?" Roman asked.

"You guys haven't seen this?" He jerked a thumb towards the door, which he held open with his foot.

"Seen what?" Dean asked.

Seth bit down on his lip. He was not excited to show them whatever he was preparing to show them. He pulled the door fully open, exposing the warm apartment to the frosty December air. There was a pile of scrap just outside the door.

Roman's heart sank as he realized what specifically the scrap pile was—or used to be.

Dean's guitar.

The neck was cracked in two places and completely detached from the body, the splintered end looking like a stake. The strings were slashed, torn from the fingerboard and wrapped in knots around the neck. The pick guard was completely smashed into the sound hole. The top looked like a crushed soda can. Beneath the heap was strips of cracked wood, the remains of the bottom of the guitar, left behind.

Dean broke.

"OH MY GOD!" he screamed, collapsing to his knees and crawling desperately towards his fallen instrument. He stroked the body, gripping the neck tight in his trembling hand.

"How the f—who the f—" Roman said, devastated for Dean. This was a personal blow. Completely unnecessary but the dirty deed had done the trick on him.

Dean bent over his broken guitar, sweeping his arms over the remains and drawing it all together in a hold, sobbing. Crying over Annie. He seemed to be the type who would only tear up at a funeral, but over this, Roman didn't blame him for losing his mind. Roman was nearly ready to fall into his own tears. Annie had been the tool that helped bring them together. Roman knew what she meant to Dean. Losing her was like losing part of his soul, part of his identity.

"Dude," Randy said, remorseful in his own way.

"How did this happen?" Roman demanded, eyeing Seth.

"I—I don't know," Seth said. "Maybe one of them grabbed it in the chaos…or they sneaked in afterwards…I don't know." He moved to hold Dean in his arms, but Dean was twitching and flailing about, out of control. His wails were pleading, as if begging the music gods to bring restoration of health to his beloved treasure, his precious instrument.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" he screamed. "IT DIDN'T HAVE TO HAPPEN! IT DIDN'T HAVE TO BE LIKE THIS!"

Roman glanced out at the parking lot, his heart heavy and his mind frying itself into another anxiety attack, wondering if Bray Wyatt could see the episode now. He could visualize the monster sitting in one of those cars, watching Dean break down like this, and not a word would cross his lips but he would laugh, and laugh.