Chapter Nine: Long Distance

A/N: The usual apology for late chapters! Homework is just… Anyway, because I've mentioned people in the early chapters and never brought them up again, here's a chapter just for that. Again, I'm sorry that Dean and Seth are hogging all the attention from Roman, to those of you who are fans much like myself. I just couldn't really find a way to make him fit into this one plot wise. A little bit of backstory on Dean is included. With that said, here's a few messages and then your chapter! Disclaim: I am a fan who owns nothing but the tablet used to write, edit, and post this work and this work, which is nonprofit. WWE owns anything recognized.

To DeanSethforever: I'm glad you like the story so far! Don't worry. This story is my main focus… When I'm not doing homework or memorizing music notes and lyrics. :)

Warning: Contains a somewhat violent flashback. Swearing, blood, weapons, etc. Skip part labeled **Flashback** if you don't want to read it.

"No no no no… Yes! Take that!" Seth shouted triumphantly, throwing his controller up and doing a sort of victory dance. Roman stared in disbelief at the screen while Dean just grinned like an idiot. The two had been playing a Madden game and Roman had been up by about 5 and the score had been 17-22 in his favor. Seth, using his mad ninja gamer skills (Dean's words) had not only intercepted a pass from a wide receiver on the complete opposite end of the field, but had run the ball aaaaall the way to the other end zone untouched.

"You cheater!" Roman yelled, outraged. Seth just laughed at him.

"Don't be a sore loser, Joe. There's always next game," Dean piped up. The Samoan sighed and turned off the game system after saving the results of the level. This was right around the time that Seth's phone, which he rarely used, mentioned, or picked up, began vibrating in his pocket. His face lit up like a Christmas tree at the caller I.D.

"Sorry, guys, but I've gotta take this." Seth hit accept and put the phone up to his ear as he walked into an adjacent room. "Phil! It's been months, man. How you been?" Phil Brooks and April Mendez, the future married couple and WWE wrestlers that would be under the ring names CM Punk and AJ Lee, were two of Seth's only friends outside of Dean and Roman. They'd instantly connected back when Seth lived briefly in Chicago. The last time he'd spoken with the two, they'd started dating. Neither of them had been your average teen back when he'd first them. He didn't expect that to be any different now.

"Colbster! Doin' just fine. Settlin' down okay in your new town? Where are you now anyway?"

"Uh, over on the east end of Cincinnati. And, actually, I'm settling down pretty well. Got a couple of good friends, like the town. It's pretty nice. Even school's bearable these days."

Phil asked, "But they know?" Being anything but straight had always caused Seth issues. In Chicago, it actually ended up causing some gang at his school to jump him. He ended up in the hospital with bruised ribs, a broken arm, and a mild concussion. Goodbye Chicago, hello Indianapolis! "Your new friends don't judge you?"

"Nah. Actually, one of them was the guy I had a crush on in the first place," Seth admitted, embarrassment evident in his voice. Phil laughed softly. "His name's Leati, but we call him Joe. Dude's got a girlfriend though, and we're pretty good friends anyway. It's not like I'm torn up about it."

"What about the other guy?" Seth stayed silent as he tried to think of a way to describe Dean to his friend. In a non fanboy-ish way. He didn't know whether or not to tell Phil about his sort of crush for his leather jacket clad friend. "Still there, Blondie?"

"Dean is… everything you'd want in a friend and so much more. It took him a while to open up and trust me, but we're pretty close. And he rocks the cliché bad boy look perfectly. He's… amazing…" Phil chuckled.

"Didn't know you were into those kinda guy. Have you ridden his motorcycle with him off into the sunset yet?" he joked.

"I didn't think you'd be into crazy! Have you and April plotted how to overthrow all the teachers yet?" There was rustling on the other line before Seth heard a higher pitched female say, "Oh, give me that!"

"April! Heh, how's it going?" he asked nervously.

"I heard that last comment, Colby."

"Hey, it was a compliment!" Seth stated, free hand up in defense.

"Mmmhmm. So, is this bad boy your boyfriend?"

"Is Phil yours?" he shot right back.

"Yes. Your turn." Seth opened his mouth to speak before promptly closing it. No, Dean's not his boyfriend. If he was honest with himself, he didn't want a relationship yet. Not only has he never exactly had one, but the last person he'd admitted his feeling to had kindly turned him down. At least Phil was nice enough to let him down easy! Even better was the fact that the two were even closer as friends than they had been before the confession.

"No, we're not together. I don't think I'd even be ready if we both felt the same way."

"Well, when you do end up with him, I better be the first to know. I don't care if it's next year or next decade. Call me and Phil. And-" she growled as she was interrupted by someone else on her end. "Yeah yeah, mom! I'll be there in a second! Go get him, Colby!" April told him before handing the phone back to Phil.

"How've your folks been, Phil?"

"You know how they are. Mom works two jobs, dad's drunk off his ass. April keeps me from trying to kill him. Same old same old. What about you?"

"Mom's never home anymore. She practically lives in her office. Dad and I are just enjoying ourselves. Brand is having fun in college. Nothin' really new." Should he tell him about…? Eh, why not? After a pause, Seth began explaining to his friend about how he'd joined his school's wrestling team and the whole thing with the Shield. Phil was silent throughout the story, taking it all in. When he finished, Phil spoke.

"Tyler Black? Sounds like the name of a lead singer from all those, metal and rock bands you listen to." Seth frowned, about to speak up about that. "But, I think it's pretty cool that you three are doing this. Just don't take it too far, alright? I don't wanna turn on the news and see that a couple of friends in Ohio got killed in a huge gang fight or something."

"Ha. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"You better be, or I'll come to Cincinnati myself and hunt them down. Listen, I have to go, but I'll talk to you again soon, alright?"

"Yeah. Take care, man," the two toned teen told his friend.

"You too, Tyler Black," he said lightheartedly before ending the call and hanging up. Seth smiled and shoved his phone back in his pocket. It was good to hear from his old friends every now and again. Dean walked into the room holding a plate of sandwiches. He held it out to the younger teen, who gladly accepted one.

"Old pal of yours call you?" he inquired. Seth nodded, taking his phone back out and pulling up a picture of a teen with shoulder length black hair, dark eyes, and a lip ring. His upper arm had a small tattoo on it. Next to him sat a girl with shoulder length brown hair, glasses, dark eyes, and brown skin. Dean stared at it for a moment. "Seems like your type."

"And how would you know my type, exactly?"

"Because I know you, pretty boy. And I'm willin' to bet you had the hots for you buddy there. And maybe her, but I don't think so." Seth gave him a look before shutting his phone and putting it back in his pocket. The next few minutes consisted of Dean teasing Seth, Seth arguing with Dean, and Roman avoiding the various foods flying through the air. It didn't stop him from getting a facefull of mayonnaise though. He slowly wiped it off his face and stared at his brothers. Then, he nailed Dean with half a sandwich. And so the food fight began.

XxX

The day had been going so well for Dean. He'd hung out with his two close friends, brothers, at Roman's house for a few hours. When Roman had to leave for football practice, he and Seth had gone to his house. He'd been enjoying himself. Until the phone rang, of course. Hardly anyone called his house, and if they did, they were either the police or the rare relative who remembered his mom. Seth asked if he was going to pick up. He didn't recognize the number, but picked up the phone anyway. His mom was out shopping for groceries at the moment. "Hello?" he asked.

"Jon?" a man's voice asked. He sounded relieved and surprised that someone had answered. Dean dropped the phone, hardly believing his ears. He hadn't heard that voice since he was eight years old. Was it who he thought it was? He didn't want to get his hopes up, but… Could it be? Dean swallowed and picked up the receiver. Slowly, he brought it back to his ear. It took a lot of courage on his part, but he uttered the one word he needed to say.

"Dad?" he asked timidly. The man on the other line smiled. Dean could hear a low and happy chuckle. Seth's eyes went wide.

"Hi, son," he replied, confirming the brunette's thought. "I… I never thought I'd hear your voice again this soon." Dean half laughed half sobbed. He knew his dad had done horrible things to his mother in the past, but he could never stop loving him. Never. Behind the abusive drunk who'd driven him and his mother onto the streets was a caring, overprotective, brave, compassionate man who cared more about his family than he did himself. Behind the monster his mother saw was a dad who encouraged him to achieve his dreams and not let anything or anyone stand in his way. Behind the person his mom never wanted to see again was his dad. Seth smiled at his friend, who had beyond happy tears falling from his eyes. He pulled Dean into a hug that the older teen gladly accepted.

"Neither did I," he whispered. "Is this your one phone call you're using?"

"Yeah. I didn't think you'd pick up. I thought you or your mom would've told me to go to Hell and slam the phone back down, ya know what I'm sayin'?… I, uh, I was eligible for parole a few months ago and I went to court. My sentence should be up in a few more months, if not, weeks. They're letting me go." Seth looked at Dean, whose small smile turned into a full blown grin. He let go of Dean, telling him he'd give him some alone time with his dad. Most people would call Dean crazy for not being angry at the man. He'd hit his mom, many times, spent most of their money, and almost harmed Dean. In truth, he was angry. Part of him never wanted to see his dad again. In his heart, however, he'd found a way to forgive him. He wanted to give his dad a second chance. He wanted a life without all the mistakes that drove his family apart.

"That's… that's great! Will, uh… will you be coming home?" His dad sighed.

"I don't know, Mox. Your mother… may not be so glad to see me. Not after the last time we saw each other."

"I'll be though! I know that that night wasn't exactly a good night, but you know I love you, right? I'll always be happy to see you!" Dean protested. He was really glad Seth wasn't in here right now. This was one of the few times he was ever emotionally vulnerable.

His dad chuckled sadly and said, "I love you too, son. I just don't think your mom would like it if she knew I called-"

"You're damn right I don't like it!" shouted a voice from the front door. His mom stood in the doorway, red in the face, holding two grocery bags. How could she even hear the conversation from all the way over there?! Putting down the bags, she marched over and snatched the phone from her son. Seth stopped in his tracks at tye bottom of the stairs when he heard her shout.

"Angie-"

"No, Bradley! Haven't you damaged this family enough? We don't need you to come back and just fuck up everything I've tried so hard to fix because of you! I won't let you hurt us again."

"Mama-" Dean tried to say before she cut him off.

"How could you talk to him after everything he's done to us? How could you forgive him?" She asked her son angrily.

"He may have hurt us, but I love him just as much as I love you. He's my dad! I forgave him because I know he can change and make things right! I forgave him because I want him in my life!"

"Well I don't. (says into the phone) Don't you ever call this number again or come near us, you son of a- Jon! What are you-? Let go!" Dean had tried grabbing the phone from his mother before she could hang up and push his dad away.

"Don't worry," his dad said into the line, voice devoid of emotion. "I won't." The line went dead.

"No!" Dean shouted as she finally ripped the phone away from him. She sighed and pulled her son into a hug. He struggled, emotional barriers coming up once more.

"No! No! Listen to me! Jon!" He eventually stopped struggling, breathing heavily and clenching his fists. "I know you miss your dad. If… If you give me some more time, then I'll let him come back. I need more time, sweetheart."

"It's been almost seven years. Wasn't that enough time?" he asked, returning the embrace and seeking comfort. "He's different now, I can feel it. You know that my gut's always right." She smiled sadly at him.

"Except about Roy." Dean scowled.

"He's just biding his time, making you trust him. I know he's up to no good. I won't ever trust him. If he lays a hand on you, I'll kill him." Angie sighed and stroked her son's hair.

"I don't doubt that," the sort of redhead said, letting him go. "I'll put things up in the kitchen." He nodded, heading for the stairs. He saw Seth sitting at the bottom, head in his hands and lost in thought, making him freeze.

"How… how much did you hear?" Dean asked. Seth gulped.

"Just about all of it. I… I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay. You would've found out eventually." There was an uncomfortable silence between the two. "You wanna, um… head up to my room?" Seth nodded. He'd never seen Dean's bedroom before. Dean opened the second door on the left. Inside was an old writing desk, a rickety bed that looked about ready to fall apart, an ECW poster, a small tv sitting on a small table, a dresser that needed a serious paint job, a laundry basket, a half empty closet, and a space for someone to sit by the window, kind of like a bench, comforter combo. His curtains were drawn closed and stray clothes littered the floor every now and then. "Welcome to my humble abode, pretty boy." Seth proceeded to look around a bit more.

"Well, it's…" he started to say.

"Bet you thought I lived on a mattress in a bare room with nothing but an old blanket or something. Am I right?" He was smiling, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Seth could see right through him.

"Uh… something like that, to be honest."

"Well, this is it. Not too bad. Beats livin' on the streets, ya know what I'm sayin'?" Seth nodded, both of them taking a seat on his bed. Seth, on instinct, pulled Dean into a hug. He stiffened, but returned the embrace, burying his face in Seth's hair. "Thanks, Colby." Downstairs, Angie had just finished putting up the groceries she'd purchased earlier. The phone call had rattled her more than she was willing to admit. It definitely brought up unwanted memories.

XxX

**Flashback**

About 8 ½ years ago…

Angie watched with a warm smile on her face as her son played around with his Bret Hart action figure his friend, Max, had let him borrow. Dean had the biggest shit eating grin on his face, as he always did when wrestling was involved. He laughed, shouting, "He's got the sharpshooter locked in! He's in a world of pain! Tap! Tap! Taaaaaaaaaap!" Her sweet, young angel. She ruffled his hair as he hugged her legs (he was sitting on the ground). Another child, a girl a few years younger than Dean, sat next to him holding a Sting action figure. She was the spitting image of her mom, but with her dad's eyes and rosier cheeks.

"Oooooohhh! And he reverses it into a scorpion deathlock! Bret's trapped!" Angie kissed the top of her daughter's head and went into the kitchen of their small apartment. She began cooking a simple meal, macaroni and cheese, because it was just one of those days. She had just finished and was putting bowls on the table when her husband, got home from work. He slammed the door behind him, throwing his jacket over the back of a nearby chair. He was seething, face slightly red and brows furrowed. He was a handsome man with curly brown hair (that would look like Dean's hair now, but way curlier), deep, green eyes, and a strong build.

"Can't fucking believe this…" he uttered, plopping down in a chair and resting his head in his hands. Angie turned the stove off and walked over, placing a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. He stiffened before relaxing into her touch. He sighed and leaned back, sitting up straight. "I fucked up at work. Fucking Hell, I fucked up. Treated everyone like a piece of shit…" The man swore like a sailor when he was in a mood. She went and stood in front of him, taking his face into her hands.

"It's alright. It happens to everyone. *sits down in his lap* Why did they send you home, honey?" she asked him softly, kissing his cheek lightly. He sighed again, taking her hand in his.

"I… I'mma be honest, sweetheart. I wasn't exactly… sober… earlier. You know how I am. My flask and I're attached at the hip…" Angie sighed exasperatedly. Her husband was a sweetheart, but when he was drunk…? He was nothing short of terrorizing, and he and his family all knew it.

"Which is why I keep telling you to leave it here," she said through gritted teeth.

"Try being addicted and going ten seconds without whatever you've always got cravings for, then you'd understand."

"Well, maybe, if you hadn't gotten addicted in the first place you'd understand how I feel." Bradley gave her a look.

"So what're ya sayin', princess? 'Sayin' it's the alc'hol's fault?"

"No," Angie whispered, trying to keep her composure. "I'm saying it's your fault for being drunk. Don't drink and none of this'll happen. As a matter of fact…" She slipped her hand into his pocket and drew out a hip flask that was just about empty. She went to put it away when her husband grabbed her wrist.

"Put. It. Down," he growled. Angie shook her head, trying to pry his hands off of her.

"Let go of me, honey." He growled and it became a sort of tug of war for the flask. It came to a point where Angie felt a stinging pain in her cheek before abruptly letting go. She held her face, looking away from him. He dropped the flask and quickly checked to see what he'd done. A bright red hand mark could be seen on her right cheek. He kissed it repeatedly, saying over and over again in a broken voice apology after apology. Angie kept repeating that it was fine, that she knew he didn't mean to do it. And that was before they heard the gasp. Dean heard and saw everything. His dad had hit his mom. He felt hurt, betrayed, like he'd been lied to. Bradley turned to his son.

"Daddy?" he asked quietly. He ran over to his son and engulfed him in a huge hug. "Why?" 'Why would you ruin the image of you that I had? Why would you hit her?'

"It's okay, Jon… It's okay, Moxley. Everything's okay. Your mom and I just had a little… argument. Everything's fine, alright? My little Mox… Go keep your sister company, okay?" Dean nodded, kissing his dad's forehead, who kissed his in return, before scampering off. Bradley turned back to Angie. "I guess we need to talk…"

XxX

A year and ½ later…

Dean was 8, had borrowed yet another action-figure, and had run upstairs immediately to show his sister what the Undertaker looked like. Angie had to once again confront her husband about getting sent home from work. The first time it happened, about a year and a half prior, it hadn't been such a big deal. Nowadays, it was a regular occurrence. Everyday, he'd go to work and every other day, he'd get sent home. Angie was just about fed up with it. Her red face, gleaming blue eyes, and reddish brown hair made her look a little like she was on fire. On the inside, she was. She walked into the kitchen to find Bradley downing a bottle of whiskey. She marched over to him with a goal in mind. "This has to stop," she told him sternly. He finished the drink and set the bottle on the table.

"Dunno wha' you're talkin' 'bout, princ'ss," he responded, opening yet another bottle.

"No, you know exactly what I'm talking about! It's been almost two years and nothing has changed. It's like we're reliving the same day over and over again. Nothing I've said or done has fixed any of this." He stood up, shaking in anger. He held an unopened bottle of beer in one hand.

"Ya know, I'm sick and tired of hearin' you bitch an' complain about me every damn day of the fucking week. I can drink if I fucking want to! It's not like my job will miss me!"

"When you don't work, you don't get paid. When you don't get paid, what happens to us?"

"Your shitty job at the factory paid bills perfectly fine before you quit!"

"That's because our children wanted me to and nothing was getting done here at the apartment when we were away! They've had to fend for themselves for the last year!"

"That's not our problem!"

"You know damn well that it is-" Before she could continue, he swung the bottle towards her head. She ducked, allowing him to trip her, but not before she swiped a switchblade from his belt. He kicked it out of her hands before smashing the bottle he held right next to her head. A shard or two scratched her scalp. She had a cut across her forehead and a small trickle of blood began running down the side of her face.

Immediately, Dean jumped when he heard the sound of shattering glass. He told his sister to stay in their room and, no matter what happened, not to leave. She nodded. He rushed downstairs to find his father staring down his mother, bits of broken glass surrounding them.

"Dad?" he asked from the middle of the stairs. He was shaking like a leaf. The crazed man before him was not his father. Before he could speak again, a beer bottle whizzed past his head, smashing against the wall behind him. It had been intended for his wife before she ducked out of the way. Dean jumped yet again, almost cowering. His mother was outraged.

"Are you trying to kill our son?! What is wrong with you? Why have you been acting like this? We have a good life here! A son, a job, a home," she told him. "A little girl, a paid off car, money. How dare you ruin this for your own obsession!" The two were walking towards the eight year old, still arguing. Bradley had grabbed another bottle and was aiming at Dean again before his mother slapped it out of his hands. He started hitting her and she started hitting him. They traded blows back and forth, trying to wear the other down as much as possible. Soon enough, he had Angie overpowered and she was knocked to the ground as he rounded on his son. He scowled, but one look in his eyes showed fear, remorse, and something that Dean just couldn't put his finger on. The small brunette looked up hopefully at his dad, still wary. As he raised his fist, she threw herself in front of her son. "Don't you touch one hair on his precious head. You strike either one of us and we walk," she threatened. He didn't lower his fist. Instead, he opened it. Two things fell out of it at Dean's feet: a set of keys and a piece of paper. That paper turned out to be a ticket to a live show a few minutes away in a few months, front row seats. The set of keys were to his beloved midnight black Camaro that he kept spotless and in the best condition possible.

"I would never hurt our son. He's basically the most important thing in my life. I love him too much to ever even think about hurting him in any way. Those are his. And you say that you'll walk? *fishes a paper and pen out of his pocket* I'll walk. Just sign on the dotted line." He held them out to her and she snatched them away before signing and thrusting them back at him. She hadn't read or looked over it. She didn't care. If it meant he'd leave them alone, she was on board.

"There. What were they?" she asked coldly. Bradley smiled hollowly.

"… Divorce papers," he whispered back. Angie paled and Dean wailed. He may be eight, but he knew what those words meant. Angie wouldn't deny that she'd been thinking about it, but she didn't actually want to do that, not to her kids. "I worked out most of the legal details. Everything's been settled. Our little girl's gonna go live with my brother down in Tennessee. At least then I can see at least one of our angels when I get out."

"Get out? Get out of what?!" Angie inquired frustratedly. Her husband wrapped his arms tightly around his son, whispering words of love and encouragement into his ear. All she could make out was, "I love you, son. Don't ever forget, and don't give up your wrestling dreams, Mox. Prove them all wrong."

He faced his wife with a defeated look on his face. "Jail," he said simply before the front door was kicked open and several police officers came rushing in, shouting and pointing their guns at him. He slowly put his hands up, dropped to his knees, and made eye contact with his wife. A second later, their daughter came sprinting down the stairs, crying out for her dad. The officers allowed them a few seconds before pulling her forcefully out of his arms and whisking him away. She'd find out later that he'd called the police, leaving an anonymous tip that a dangerous man would threaten a family at a certain time, giving their address and the man's description. He'd purposefully set himself up to be arrested. The guilt had been too much. Angie's legs gave out and she was left kneeling, holding on tightly to the only two things that made the world worth living anymore.

XxX

End **Flashback**

Angie snapped out of her daze. Trying to shake the cobwebs out of her head, she went upstairs and peeked into her son's room. She laughed quietly to herself as Seth tried to explain how his phone worked. So far, the only thing Dean had done successfully was turn it on. He wasn't the most tech savvy kid. She retreated back to her room and collapsed on her bed. After all these years, she still held a grudge. She was starting to seriously regret some of the things she'd said. Wasn't she always preaching different lessons to her son. Treat people how you want them to treat you in turn, manners, respect, forgive, but never forget, don't ever hate or hold grudges. She sighed and hurried her face in her hands. "Forgive me," she whispered out in the open as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Please forgive me."

Closing A/N: Aaaaah! I made it too angsty-ish! Nuuuuuu! *clears throat* So, I watched the Stone Cold Podcast w/ Dean as the special guest on YouTube and… let's just say that I've learned more from that hour than I have in ninth grade and my AP classes, which give me nightly hw assignments, the last five days, combined. I didn't bother looking stuff up, because I don't really trust the internet (I'm looking at you, Wikipedia). I like to keep my stories, AUs or not, to be as close to the truth and realistic as possible. Expect me to incorporate my new knowledge into future chapters. See you again when I finish my AP World History assignment!