I loved writing this chapter, it just seemed to pour out. Of course, that doesn't mean anything unless you guys like it, so I hope you do.

Andrew27King, I know! Raw totally stole my thunder (I'm gonna have words) but no, I think he needs forgiving too. Just like on the show though, my Dean's not completely convinced either!

Skovko, hi! Glad to have you in on this one too. Kinda different from the other one but I hope you like it just as well.

Ohana1337, thanks. I really like Dean and Steph's dynamic in this. I'm not sure what I was aiming for when I started, but they kind of evolved into this sparky brother-sister type thing as I went along! That continues in this chapter…

Something Better Beginning

Pitching back up at the warehouse on the Monday morning was a littlelike returning to school for a new semester. Things – in essence – were the same but also different and there was a worrying feeling almost like he belonged.

Damn.

He hadn't wanted to feel that.

He'd desperately wanted it to seem all wrong.

Stephanie hadn't told him the combination to get into the place but based on that alone he assumed it hadn't changed and letting out a sigh he punched in the numbers,

744353.

Shield

Sure enough the door let out a click and the noise was enough to shoot his heart into his throat. Not that he was nervous about it but –

Oh who was he kidding?

He totally fuckin' was.

For the next two weeks he would be stepping back in time. To a time when he'd been happy – he didn't want that anymore. He didn't want their brotherhood or that cosy little unit. What was the point when it would just implode again? If life had taught him anything about anything then it was that people always left him.

The trick was to not get too attached.

On that front he had failed – three times across the years – which was why he was determined not to fall for it again and with that thought in mind he stepped across the threshold and let the door bang shut and seal out the light.

How many times had he done that before?

How many times would he do it again?

He stood for a second and let his eyes get adjusted even he knew he was in a big empty space. There were windows on all sides – those big industrial type ones – but they were so grimed over they made little difference.

Not that Dean needed to see the inside.

He knew from experience there was nothing to see there apart from dust and supportive steel legs that ran top to toe right the way through the building and punched through each floor like rusty old trees. The only thing of note was the staircase, which he skirted towards and headed up steadily, habitually taking two steps at a time. There was light at the top and the smell of fresh air again and he emerged into a familiar but different world.

Christ.

The first floor windows were cleaned and propped open and the ground had been swept to reveal the wooden slats. Three desks had been set up – one beneath each casement – and there was a big sort of conference table slotted in between. There were computers and lights and a screen on the far wall which had already been set up with the details of a case. There was also a whiteboard dotted with mugshots and a sprawling map of the city pinned up alongside. In one corner there were sofas and a kitchen, flanked by – Dean blinked – wait, was that a freakin' pool table too? Clearly Stephanie had gone all out on this one.

They'd never had an actual recreation space before.

"Fuck."

As he gazed around in total astonishment, two semi-hesitant faces gazed back. They were gathered around the big screen, with Stephanie stood in front of them and their expressions were a mixture of uncertainty and relief.

"Ambrose," Stephanie drawled at him shortly, "You're late."

"You're lucky I'm here at all."

"I told you eight sharp,"

"And I told you that I would be here when I got here – which happens to be now."

As he spoke he stripped off his jacket and flung it over the back of a chair. It was only after he'd thrown it however – and nailed it for that matter – that he realised what he'd done. The chair he'd tossed it at was the one on the far right, with its back to the others.

His old desk.

He had gravitated towards it instinctively and the move had drawn a smug smirk from Seth. Dean was tempted to wipe it off physically but fortunately Stephanie spoke up again,

"Well since you've decided to grace us with your presence, perhaps you'd like to take a seat?"

He ignored the sarcasm and crossed the space towards them before slotting into a chair that seemed the furthest from the rest. Roman was grinning across at him broadly and he snorted a little and tried not to smile back.

"Carry on boss."

"Well Ambrose, as I was saying – ,"

She clicked a button and an image flashed in front of them making Dean turn his head to work out what it was. It was the body of a man lying face-down and naked and there were two neat gouges placed halfway up his back. They were clean incisions – they almost looked surgical – and from the pallor of his skin it looked like he'd lost blood.

"What the hell," Seth offered articulately, "Has someone cut his kidneys out?"

"In a word? Yes."

Roman frowned at her a little,

"Black market?"

"That's definitely our best guess so far."

"But you don't know?"

"What we know is that over six months we've got four victims and they all look like this."

Seth sat back in his chair frowning lightly and his features pulled together in considered thought,

"But I thought in black market deals you only took one kidney? Had the surgery in a motel room somewhere, got paid for it and walked out a couple hours later alive."

Roman nodded slowly,

"So I guess what that means is that whoever's running this deal ain't handing out all of the facts. Guys come on board thinking it's easy money and meanwhile they get both their kidneys cut out."

"Either that or we're dealin' with Hannibal Lecter."

At Dean's wry assessment everyone shut up and glanced in his direction with varying expressions. It was standard Dean and they clearly both remembered it. Roman bit back a half-cough half-snort. Stephanie however was less impressed by it and chose to pretend he hadn't spoken at all.

"That's what we're thinking – ,"

"What? Hannibal Lecter?"

Like Dean was about to let her off.

His boss let out a sigh and rolled her eyes so violently that for a minute he thought the damn things might fall out,

"We think it's a ruthless black market deal."

"Oh."

Hannibal Lecter would have been way more cool though and Dean shot Roman another sly grin.

"Are the victims connected?" Seth offered professionally, "Age? Background?"

Stephanie nodded,

"Yes and yes. All the victims were males in their late twenties early thirties and all of them were physically fit. In terms of their histories they were all unemployed and three out of four of them had problems with drink and drugs."

As she replied she was scrolling through pictures and the images of the deceased men slapped the flippancy from Dean's face. Seeing them as people made the whole thing starkly real to him and in an instant he was fully business again.

"What about the fourth?"

Seth glanced across to look at him and not for the first time he marvelled at the sudden switch. It was one of the things that had always intrigued him – Dean's ability to flip moods in a blink.

"The fourth," replied Stephanie, glad he was serious and quickly turning to root through some files, "Was about to be foreclosed on."

"So they all needed cash."

It wasn't a question and so Stephanie didn't answer but everyone was thinking the same thing.

Yes.

But that wasn't all that the three of them were thinking and a quick look between confirmed it at once. It felt strange to be back on a telepathic wavelength and Dean baulked at it a little.

Don't get sucked back in.

Sitting forward in his chair and sighing, he took up position as group spokesman again,

"Alright, so why us? I mean, not that this isn't some bad shit or whatever but it kinda seems like detective stuff, y'know? I thought you called us in to deal with the shady deals. Isn't this a little – I don't know – sorta tame?"

It was a fairly blunt delivery – pure Dean Ambrose – and in response Stephanie took a seat on the edge of the table and let the files drop into her lap,

"Maybe I'm breaking you boys back in gently."

"Don't buy it."

"Fine. You want the truth?"

Her glare was fiercesome but Dean gazed back lightly. This was a dance they had done many times. Stephanie McMahon never gave full details, she liked her employees to try and pry them out. It proved they were on it or involved or some other shit. Dean simply did it because riling her was fun.

"The truth seems like a good place to start," Seth replied evenly,

There was fucking irony.

Dean glared back at him,

"The truth is we need someone with a certain – shall we say – skillset. Someone who knows how to act on the streets, someone who could pass for an unemployed alcoholic, someone who looks scruffy and vaguely unkempt."

She was smiling so sweetly that the words took a moment to fully sink in.

Dean blinked when they did,

"Wait a minute, you talkin' 'bout me?"

Stephanie made a gun of her fingers and clicked her tongue at him condescendingly,

"Very good Ambrose, I'm glad you're keeping up."

Roman cleared his throat,

"You want him undercover?"

There was something deep and unhappy in his question and Dean could see his protective streak flare. It was something he hadn't seen in over twelve months and it struck him suddenly just how much he'd missed the thing. He'd missed someone instantly having his back, looking out for him, caring about his wellbeing.

He'd missed his brother – but, no, not this again – that ship had sailed.

Don't get sucked back in.

"Hold up, did you just call me unkempt?"

"That and scruffy," Seth put in helpfully, "Said you could pass for an alcoholic as well."

Everyone ignored him,

"So if this is about Dean, then why are Seth and I here?"

Stephanie smiled and it was like she had been waiting to get to this part of the conversation all along. She had probably rehearsed it in the car on the way over there. Yet another thing she had in common with her old man.

"Because the people we are dealing with here are ruthless and not only that but they're professional too. The surgical incisions have been made by an expert, which means we're looking at a qualified surgeon and probably one that is well-respected at what he does. Maybe they have a private practise and do this on the side – or maybe they don't. But the point is we don't know and we can't get in closer because the people we need to talk to can spot the cops a mile off. I need something different, something outside the box. What I need is a team that can break down that door."

"Which is why you want to reform The Shield."

Again Roman's statement wasn't a question and so Stephanie merely shrugged back with a sigh,

"You boys are the very best option we've got."

"Best option you had," Dean replied bluntly, "We still don't know if this shit will work."

"Actually, it doesn't need to work Ambrose. It just needs to get me some god damn results. Who knows what else this gang is into? If we can get them off the streets then we can shut it all down. That is the priority here. Finding those responsible. Rebuilding relationships can come later – or never – I don't get much of a say in that."

For a second everyone stared at one another, letting themselves digest the words. Despite her sentiments, Dean knew she was bullshitting. She was desperate for them to patch things up. But naturally the big bad boss couldn't say that. He only he knew it because he knew her like he did.

Sitting forward and blowing out a breath, Dean smirked up at her,

"Nice fuckin' pep talk. Seriously, that's it? Do it or else? Not exactly inspirin'."

"You're catching a killer Dean, not climbing a mountain. I don't prepare motivational quotes."

"Live a life of grace, you'll be a better person for it."

"Who said that?"

Dean grinned,

"Chevy Chase."

Stephanie rolled her eyes in frustration but fortunately her response was interrupted by Seth,

"Is there a reason the incisions are on the back and not the side? I thought you got to the kidneys from the side?"

Everyone's attention turned back to the screen and again Dean was drawn to the deep red grooves. It was a horrible thought – what these people were doing – stealing the organs from unwilling folk. Leaving them to bleed to death. Even if he was still a little sketchy on The Shield thing he was damned if he was going to let this gang keep at their work.

Once again Stephanie was rooting through the paper files, skimming through the pages with a flick of her hand,

"Apparently that's down to personal preference. There's no right way or wrong way."

"So you're saying it's the surgeon's choice?"

"Yes."

Seeing the direction that Seth's mind was headed, Roman sat forward with an inquisitive frown. It was interesting for Dean to watch the two of them reacting. It was like watching their policing flowers re-bloom.

"Couldn't that be a way to track down the surgeon? What's the ratio between them?"

"Already done,"

Stephanie's reply came complete with a flourish as she pulled free a stack of typed-up sheets. She handed it across to him and Seth leant in closer, as both men's eyes quickly scanned the first page,

"Jesus,"

"Those are the details of every nephrologist working in the city as of now. We've got address, dates, medical histories, everything, including their preferences on side entry or back. Those who make incisions in the back are listed on the first three sheets."

"There's twenty names on here."

As Seth looked up at her, Stephanie shrugged back at him and the message was clear.

Now you see why we're stuck.

Dean blinked,

"Okay boss, so what's our next move then, huh? I mean, since you're the one who's got all the answers and dreamt this little reunion up – what do you want us to do?"

"That's up to you boys."

"Oh, I think we all know it's not."

Stephanie glared back at him but it had happened so much that over the years he had slowly become immune. In the stare-off however, Seth cleared his throat awkwardly and leant across to point at the files,

"Well you said you wanted Dean undercover and since the victims all came from the same place, I'm guessing you want us to start somewhere there? Find out where they used to go drinking, ask a few questions about making quick bucks. Then in meantime start running through these surgeons – work out who's got the connections and the means."

Stephanie nodded,

"Nicely done Rollins."

Dean snorted,

"Please, he's fresh out of prison. He probably knows the dude – they probably shared a cell."

As the words echoed off the space around them noisily, Dean couldn't help but notice Seth's face. It wasn't annoyed or heated like he expected, it was actually kind of crushed looking instead. Clearly the barbs had found their target and Dean wasn't sure how he felt about that. Even Roman was frowning mildly.

Great.

Now suddenly he was the asshole.

"Ambrose – ," Stephanie snapped in annoyance and Dean held his hands up in frustration,

Ugh.

"Fine. Great idea Seth – good thinkin' buddy. Y'know how much I love shitty undercover work."

It was deeply sarcastic but it was at least a vague effort and for the moment it would have to do. Rolling her eyes again, Stephanie snatched a file up and stalked past the big screen to drop it in his lap. It landed with a thud in his crotch and he grunted but purposefully didn't respond to her smirk,

"This is all the information we have on the victims. Their backgrounds, contacts and most importantly where they drank. We think whoever put them in touch with the traffickers must have been someone they met in a bar – someone who overheard their situation and offered them a way out. You need to track them down. I'll need you to ditch your gun for this one Ambrose. You need to seem helpless,"

"Oh, come on. You just gave it back. I'm already puttin' myself out there as bait. I can't do it armed?"

"In a word? No."

Roman's brows furrowed at Stephanie's answer and he glanced across reassuringly,

"Don't worry uce, we'll be there."

The familiar nickname rippled through Dean like a shudder and its many implications too. Realistically he should have bitten Roman's head off for using it – they weren't fucking brothers, not any more – but oddly he couldn't bring himself to do anything and in the end the best he could manage was a nod. Stephanie seemed to take that as her cue and stood up briskly,

"Well, since it seems that everything's settled, I'll leave you to get started."

"Not stayin' for the fun?"

Seth and Roman had risen along with her, but Dean had remained pointedly slumped against his chair. Shooting a quick look at him, her expression swiftly darkened and she glared at him warningly,

"Ambrose. Behave yourself."

He flapped an airy hand in response, not refusing but not agreeing to it either. The movement drew another weary sigh and shaking her head, Stephanie headed for the exit. They stood in silence as she stomped down the stairs again and didn't move until the heard the metal door slam.

Someone – maybe it was even Dean himself – let out a sigh but no one spoke after that. What were they even supposed to say? There they were, on their own as a team for the first time in three years.

But they were not a fucking team.

In the drawn out silence, Roman shook his head a little and gestured towards the kitchen,

"Grab anyone a coffee?"

It seemed like a fairly safe place to start and so Seth nodded back at him,

"Yeah man, I'll take a – ,"

"Flat white double shot," Roman smiled, "I remember."

Dean snorted,

"Remember how he hit me across the head with a chair?"

"I remember that too," Roman responded easily, like a father dealing with bickering kids, "But that hasn't got anything to do with coffee. Uce? You still want yours straight up black?"

Dean glowered at him like a child.

"No."

"No?"

"Okay, yes."

Across from him Seth was still looking uncomfortable and it occurred to Dean that he had managed to make him too hangdog to even speak.

Fuck.

Why was it that things were never damn easy? More importantly, how the fuck was their team ever going to work? As Roman set the coffee machine whirring in the background, Seth gestured vaguely and opened his mouth,

"Look man – ,"

"Forget it," Dean sighed in resentment, attempting to be the bigger man, "Let's just focus on findin' these fuckers and gettin' the job done, sound like a plan?"

Seth nodded back at him eagerly,

"Sure does man,"

"Good," Dean flung a file across, "Then we need to make a list of the bars the victims hung out in, I'll need to hit 'em up one by one."

"Shouldn't be hard for a scruffy alcoholic," Roman grinned wryly, holding out a steaming cup. Dean took it from him and shot a scowl upwards, but it was far from convincing and it made Roman laugh.

The ease of being with them was startling and alarming and mixed with a million fucking things all at once. Dean didn't know how the hell he was feeling but he knew he didn't like it – or maybe he did.

Don't get sucked in.

The one thing he knew with absolute clarity was that in no fucking way were the three of them a team. Once the job was done, he was leaving for good and no one could talk him out of it.

Dean Ambrose was done.

Do we really believe that though?