Here we go with a nice early update since I had some free time and got a whole load of editing done. Are you ready for all the crazy?
Mandy, Aww, thanks, I'm glad you feel I'm doing Dean justice. He kind of goes through a rollercoaster in this story, but I've enjoyed trying to get inside my version of his head.
Skovko, Dean always strikes me as the kind of guy that likes to try and laugh off conversations that are too serious. I'm the same to be honest!
AngelOfDeathOfWrestling, I love writing Roman as the strong silent peacemaker. Since he's the only father of the group, I figure he falls into the role kinda naturally.
Guest, Hi and wow, thank you so much, glad you're enjoying it. The idea sat with me for ages before I wrote it and I'm so glad I finally gave into my muse!
Andrew27King, Super glad it's still living up to expectations. Hopefully these next few chapters will make the slow build have been worth it as well.
Enjoy...
Missing Persons
They staked out the building for the rest of the day in the hopes of getting eyes on a member of The League. But in the end their watchfulness brought few results and no one turned up beside legitimate patients.
As the sun had started to dip below the buildings and allow a murky grey dusk to creep in, Roman had sighed and checked the clock wearily before uttering the phrase,
"Let's get you home."
It hadn't been a welcome sentence because – in actual fact – he didn't mean home. What he meant was the shitty apartment in The Battleground.
Jon Moxley's home.
It certainly wasn't Dean's.
Driving back through the dirty-looking slum streets, the undercover man could feel the oppression closing in. It was the same way he had felt back when he'd been a teenager – that hopeless gnawing sense that he would never get out. It was almost surprising how powerfully he felt it and yet he didn't even live there. He was pretending he did. Evidently he was more method than he had given himself credit for, although it didn't stop him groaning as the apartment loomed up.
"Fuck."
Roman blinked, hands steady on the steering wheel,
"What? Forget something?"
"No. Look at it uce."
Dean flapped a disgruntled hand towards the windshield, indicating the run-down looking building up in front. He had a point, although Roman half-forgot it since he was far too busy revelling over being called uce.
It had been a very long time.
"Seth checked, said he couldn't see any roaches."
"Why d'ya think that is?" Dean snorted back, "Not even they wanna hang around in this place."
"It's just for a couple of nights. You'll be fine."
Dean's response was nothing but a grumble and despite himself, Roman bit back a grin. His teammate was acting like a bratty little five-year-old but the poutiness was reassuring. In short, it was inherently Dean.
Roman dropped him off a way back on the corner, shielding the sleek vehicle behind yet another vacant lot. It was out of the way enough to not draw attention and it allowed Dean to hop out and keep his façade up.
"Hey," Roman called as Dean slid from the leather, pausing with the passenger door still opened out, "I'll message you later, see how it's going, alright?"
He felt like a parent packing their child off to summer camp, which he knew because he'd actually done that before. His kids weren't with him anymore – and that hurt – but his fatherly instincts weren't about to leave him and so it was instinctive that they instead seemed to settle on Dean.
The man himself simply snorted back wryly and waved a hand,
"I'll be havin' a great time."
"Seth's already in place in the surveillance truck, he'll be watching you tonight, okay? I'll come and switch over with him first thing tomorrow morning. Don't worry babe, we've got your back."
"Yeah," Dean grumbled beneath his hat, "I know you do."
Then he slammed the door shut heavily and cut across the abandoned lot, heading for home –
Or whatever the fuck it was.
Around him the wind was whipping up fiercely, blowing drug wrappers and beer cans like leaves across the floor. He picked his way through them trying not to look distasteful and rounded the corner back out onto the street. Sure enough, there was their surveillance van, looking naturally at home in shades of dirty white and rust. It jostled slightly and Dean knew Seth was inside it, settling himself in for what would be a long night.
Dean wandered briefly if the monitors had picked him up yet and the thought that they had – that Seth was keeping eyes on him – made him feel better.
Which made him feel worse.
No way in hell did he want to feel better about Seth fucking Rollins having his back. But he couldn't control the wash of relief it gave him, or the tiny little grin as his cell began to ring.
Incoming Call…Bastard Cell Phone.
He hit the button and lifted it up to his ear,
"What?"
"Hey man," Seth offered, with vague hints of caution, "I've got you on the monitor. You doing okay?"
Dean bit back the urge to snort sharply.
No he was not fucking okay.
"Everythin' set up?" he asked instead and a little more sharply than he'd intended on sounding.
"All good to go man. I got cameras all around. On the street, the lobby, the stairwell and round the back. You're totally covered. I'm watching them all."
Dean sighed wearily.
At least that was something.
"Anythin' happenin'?"
"No, it's all quiet. What about you and Roman? Have any luck?"
"Kinda," Dean grumbled, keeping his voice low as a man shuffled past pushing a dented-looking cart, "Ended up on the Upper West Side, out in front of where that Del Rio guy works."
Seth blew out a breath,
"Well that seems pretty certain then. Looks like Alberto's gone to the top of our suspect list."
"Yeah."
Turning and stomping up the steps of his new building, Dean side-skipped a gleaming puddle of piss, patting about in his pockets one-handed as he juggled his cell phone and continued to talk to Seth,
"Second floor," the younger man offered, "You got the key?"
"Roman gave it to me."
That much was true. It had been handed across during the day in a folded envelope which had also contained a fake licence and photographs. The shots had been images of smiling happy children and according to Roman they were supposed to be his.
Well, not his – fuck no – they were Moxley's and he'd entertained himself by giving them names. The two grinning girls were Strawberry and Nicotine and the dumpy baby boy was either Barry or Hennessey. He hadn't quite decided which one of those was better, or – frankly – worse, which was totally the point.
It hadn't seemed worth mentioning the way his heart had frozen at the sight of kids which could have been his. Not in some undercover mock-up either, but actually his.
His and hers.
They were certainly blonde and damn cute like she was – had been – yet at the same time scruffy like him. There was something rag-tag and carefree about them and they even had his dimples.
It was like seeing what might have been.
Pulling out the key, Dean growled just a little, attempting to beat those feelings back down. He had almost forgotten about Seth still on the phone with him and so he jumped as the voice came back across the line,
"Dean? You alright?"
"I'm fuckin' super."
Wisely, Seth chose not to reply and Dean turned the key in the door and pushed his way in, stepping into the lobby and spinning straight towards the stairs. On the inside the building wasn't much more inspiring and he flinched a little at the chaos of noise. From behind an open door a woman was shouting, scolding what sounded like an army of kids. A teenager shuffled out, swearing obliquely and glared up at him as if to say yeah, what?
Dean let out a sigh and trudged reluctantly towards the upper floors, listening as Seth chattered away over the line. He wasn't talking about anything specific, more just talking at him, like he was trying to keep him calm. Usually the sound of Seth's voice did the opposite, but Dean couldn't deny that this time it worked. The familiar tones kept him feeling almost grounded and he liked the knowledge that his teammate was so near.
"Stephanie's going to freak at the bill man, I bought all the latest technical gear. Surveillance stuff has certainly stepped up since we last did this. I ordered – like – a whole bunch of crap. There were a lot of zeroes there."
In the background there was a ping like a message had come through and shortly afterwards Dean's own phone vibrated against his ear. Since he was juggling the cell, the keys and photos, he simply grunted back at Seth,
"I'm guessin' that's from Roman to both of us?"
Seth sounded distracted,
"Yeah."
"What does it say?"
By this point Dean had reached his apartment and – holy god – was that a stain on the door? He figured it was probably either blood or bolognese sauce and tried to ignore it as he jammed the key hard in the lock. It opened with difficulty, requiring a wriggle and even a solid boot before the hinges would obey.
Piece of shit apartment.
Dean sighed heavily and stepped over the threshold at the exact same moment that Seth exhaled,
"Fuck."
"What?"
"Del Rio's been in contact with Roman. Says he'll have a solution by tonight."
Dean's stomach flipped over as he groped for the light switch and a sensation settled across him which raised the hairs on his neck.
Something was wrong and it wasn't just the timescale –
Something was about to go very, very bad.
His fingers found the rocker and he flicked it on sharply, whereupon the bottom of his stomach fell out. Standing in front of him – and grinning like a devil – was fucking Sheamus.
They were fucking in his home.
"What the hell – ," Dean gaped in amazement and he could practically hear Seth frown over the line,
"Huh? What's happening? What's going on man?"
Dean ignored him,
"What the fuck are doin' dude? How did you get in here?"
Seth picked up the thread,
"Is it them? Fuck. I've been here all morning, they must have been holed up waiting since last night. Shit. Alright man, hold on, okay? I'm coming. Keep them talking. I'll get you out."
It was a panicked sounding ramble but the sentiments were positive and somehow knowing that Seth was on the warpath was instantly comforting. They would bring Sheamus down. Taking his silence for bewilderment however, the Irishman merely offered back a toothy grin,
"You're hard man to track down, you know that Mox? Been waiting on you for kind of a long time."
Dean glared back at him,
"What do you want?"
"It's show time."
"What does that mean?"
"Hang up the phone."
For a second, Dean debated ignoring him – it was almost imperative to keep Seth on the line – but then the apartment door slammed shut behind him and a hand swiped the cell straight out of his hand. It sailed in an arc towards the carpet but on the way down took an unplanned glancing blow off the wall. Due to cheap Asiatic engineering, it exploded on impact into a hail of plastic bits, the battery flying out like a bullet and rendering his lifeline well and truly dead.
Fuck.
Turning towards the well-hidden second man, Dean almost groaned aloud at what he saw. Wade fucking Barrett was glowering back at him and for seemingly good measure, he slapped Dean across the head.
"Don't fucking test my patience tonight. I'm not in the mood for it."
Neither was Dean, although as he rubbed the back of his head gingerly and moved to reply in insolent tones, Sheamus suddenly stepped in close behind him and spoke in his ear which made Dean jump.
"You're being watched feller."
"I'm bein' what?"
Sheamus reached over and grabbed Dean's arm carefully although not carefully enough that Dean didn't flinch. He coaxed him over to a grubby looking window and swiftly pulled back the equally grubby blinds.
Yeah, it was a real nice place.
"There's a van down the road," Sheamus offered quietly, "I've been watching it all morning, it's got eyes on your digs. You in trouble? You skip bail or something? We can help if you tell us what it is."
The Irishman seemed cautious but angry in the same breath and Dean's heart turned over in horror.
Seth.
"I – I owe a guy some money. He's nothin' I can't handle. Just leave him to me."
It was the best excuse he could think of in the moment and for a second he even started to think it might work. Sheamus certainly didn't seem disbelieving but then fucking Wade Barrett barged in and shook his head,
"We're never gonna get out of this fucking place with him there."
Dean swallowed hesitantly,
"What are you gonna do?"
Further down the road, the van door slid open and the familiar figure of Seth Rollins hopped out. Even from the distance and through the murky window, Dean could see the purpose on his face and his stomach rolled a little in both pleasure and apprehension, which faded as a figure loomed up from Seth's right.
Shit.
"We've already done it," Sheamus smirked back proudly and Dean's body stiffened.
"No – ,"
His protest swiftly died.
As he stood watching in open mouthed terror the man mountain Rusev ploughed into Seth's flank. The force knocked the smaller man almost clean across the asphalt and virtually to the storm drain right over the other side. Instinctively Dean turned to head towards the doorway – the need to help his teammate innate – but Barrett reached out and grabbed him roughly by the collar, at which point Dean's characterization went to shit.
His fist flashed out and he caught the Brit squarely, stabbing his knuckles straight into the jaw. Barrett grunted and unsteadily staggered backwards, colliding with a table and several stained mismatching chairs.
Yeah, it was a lovely apartment and damn he wished he had his fucking gun.
The British man recovered with surprising momentum and ploughed himself forward, wrapping his forearms around Dean. Together they stumbled back and hit the wall bodily and Dean's head snapped back and banged against the brick.
Hard.
Stars exploded right the way across his vision and he gasped as abruptly Sheamus cut in,
"That's enough," he bellowed at Barrett, backing him up with a two-handed shove, "Back first? Are you insane? You want to damage the merchandise? You know how much we get for those things."
Turning again as Barrett grumbled bitterly, Sheamus pulled Dean forward on unsteady feet. For a second he was almost holding him upright, but thankfully Dean recovered pretty fast. When his eyesight cleared enough to make out faces, the Irishman's frown was the first thing he saw,
"What the hell was that about Mox, huh? We're trying to save you from that guy. If we take him out, you won't owe him any money and that'll be one more thing you don't have to worry about."
"I don't – ," Dean gasped, "I don't need you to hurt him. Call him off."
He had to save Seth and the instinct to do it was so powerful and primal that it made him realize Roman was right. Seth had been trying and Dean had responded. In that tiny moment, they were brothers again.
Sheamus wrapped an arm around his neckline and pulled him in closer to rasp in his ear,
"Too late for that man and besides, we've come to pick you up for your little appointment."
"Appointment? No," Dean shook his head, "You need to stop – ,"
"Stop? But we're so close to the money. You still need that money, don't you Mox?"
Originally the plan had been to play along with them, to agree to do whatever they said. But that was before The League had fucking jumped them and before Rusev had started pounding on Seth. Suddenly none of their game plan mattered.
All that mattered was getting to Seth.
"No," Dean responded, trying to pull away from him and push down the flush of nausea rising fast, "No man, I – I meant to tell you. I got a job. I don't need your money anymore."
The forearm arm locked him in place a little tighter and Barrett glared across at him from over by the door. Dean barely registered the change in expressions, instead he had his head tilted frantically towards the window, trying to figure out what was going on. Rusev was big – yep, the guy was a freakin' grizzly – but Seth was scrappy and didn't give up. There was always a chance that the smaller man had bounced back but without physically seeing it, Dean couldn't be sure.
"I knew it," Barrett snorted, grabbing his attention and it made Dean's hackles rise up at once, "Didn't I tell you this guy was a pussy? He didn't have it in him from the start."
Once again Dean snarled and surged in towards him, but he ground to a halt as a sharp pain hit his neck. It was intense but tiny, like he'd been bitten by an insect and his hand flew up to the injury at once. His fingers brushed something thin and metallic, although as he frowned it suddenly withdrew. The realization of what it was hit him in much the same way as a kick to the guts and his stomach turned over and the blood ran cold inside him as Sheamus chuckled.
A needle.
Fuck.
Whipping around he growled at the Irishman, trying to banish the alarm from his tone,
"What the fuck did you just do to me?"
The redhead unrepentantly held the syringe up, grinning as Dean's wild blue eyes focused in on it and the breathing hitched in unmistakeable fright.
"Sorry Mox," Sheamus shrugged idly, "But backing out isn't an option for you now. We've come too far, besides, don't you want to help people?"
Again with that line?
Dean snorted,
"Help you?"
It was probably a whole step further than he should have pushed them, but suddenly his brain didn't quite seem to work. It was accompanied as well by an irritating buzzing and the sensation of his consciousness retreating to the back. As he went to move forward, his knees abruptly crumpled and he clattered to the floor, knocking over a chair,
"Whoa," Sheamus grinned, moving forward to catch him but Dean ripped away and fell back onto his ass, "Starting to feel it now, aren't you Moxley? Don't worry, it's anaesthetic. You're going to be fine. We're going to do great things together. Just go to sleep. It'll all be over soon."
The panic inside Dean was mingling with sheer helplessness.
He needed to stay awake.
He needed to help Seth.
But with every last second, his awareness was failing and even as he fought it, he could feel himself fold back. He crashed up against Barrett's legs in a dead slump and could just about feel rough fingers grab his arms. He moaned a little and let out a grumble,
"Seth."
Barrett seemed to stiffen in alarm,
"Who the fuck's Seth?"
Sheamus snorted,
"How do I know? His old man? His kid? Could be his boyfriend for all I care at this point. Let's just get him the fuck out of here before someone comes looking for him."
"Looking for him?"
The question drew a chuckle from both men and even as he fell into darkness Dean frowned.
Fuck you guys.
"Hey, what about Rusev?"
"Let him make his own way back. He'll be fine."
"What if he isn't?"
"Come on, you saw the other guy. Skinny fucking thing. He'll stomp him into the ground."
It was the last thing Dean heard as the darkness took hold of him and in response the ball of nausea rose. After years of blaming him for everything that had happened and for failing them totally, he had failed Seth. He couldn't get to his teammate – he simply couldn't save him.
He didn't even know if Seth was alive or dead.
His addled mind briefly swung towards Roman and how the bigger man would feel and react. It made Dean want him with a pang of emotion.
He wanted them both.
I'm so sorry Seth.
Uh oh! Big cliffhanger. Sorry not sorry. As ever, please let me know what you think.