So, who's ready for a bit more action? Show of hands? Okay, here you go!

Skovko, You know, sometimes we are so much on the same wavelength it's kind of scary (you've predicted things again!) Either that or I'm way too obvious!

Raze Olympus, Can't let Dean have all the fun and be the only one in trouble can I? Need to share the disaster around a bit!

Ninjoy, I'm glad you liked the heart to heart chapter and hate The League as much as you should! BTW, your powerful punch sounds scary! But I'm also sorry for stressing you out and causing you a sleepless night over the last chapter (although not too sorry because I kinda like causing lots of feels!) Hope this one doesn't give you too much sleep deprivation!

Rebel8954, Then I won't make you wait a minute longer, here's the next chapter. Thanks for the review!

Mandy, Don't worry, I'm just going to rough them up a little bit and then put them back together. That's okay, right?! I think Seth is a caring guy too but only when he's not in heel mode! Mostly I just love the three of them together and since we can't have that on TV, I thought I'd do it here!

Back into the storm then everyone...

Where Have All The Good Times Gone

Since the moment his skull had bounced base first off the storm grate, Seth had been decidedly on the back foot. It didn't help that his very keen assailant was built like a monolith and was laughing as well and for almost two minutes – although it felt like years longer – he could do little but try to protect himself from the blows.

Frantically his mind scanned over what the hell was happening and what and when it had all gone wrong. As his attacker changed fists – evidently his right was hurting him and wasn't that a shame – Seth glanced up into the face.

Miroslav Barnyashev – Rusev – stared back at him and Seth's heart rate quickened.

They had come for Dean.

The knowledge fuelled him with a sudden burst of panic but also a burst of determination as well. During his two year sentence in prison, Seth had been involved in several fights. Not that he'd been a willing participant but he'd held his own through a need to survive. He wasn't exactly a natural scrapper but he was feisty and had never known when to say no. Those two things had served him pretty faithfully and nor were they about to let him down now.

As Rusev shifted to get better positioned, Seth kicked his legs out and caught the man's shin. A Bulgarian curse word filtered back down to him and grinning, Seth repeated the action again.

Have some more fucker.

Another pained cry rang out as the Bulgarian mountain stumbled backwards, his eyes blazing furiously as he plotted Seth's demise. Fortunately however the smaller man was quicker and he stumbled to his feet, trying to shake off the daze he felt.

Rusev recovered quickly and charged towards him bull-like, but at the very last second, Seth stepped to the side – as in actually stepped to the side, like a cartoon – and shunted his attacker as the big man sailed by. Rusev caught his foot on the sidewalk and tumbled forwards like a landslide of lard. The second he was down, Seth was on top of him, pummelling him mercilessly.

But Rusev was strong.

With Seth still on top of him – like a spider monkey – the Bulgarian obelisk climbed back to his feet, whipping Seth up and over his shoulder and depositing him hard onto the concrete below.

Crap.

The air exploded out of Seth's lungs almost like they had been physically burst and he lay for a second, both gasping and coughing as the pain seemed to erupt from every last pore. Rusev grinned down at him – which wasn't reassuring – and Seth could sense his panic grow again.

He couldn't go out like this, he had to get to Ambrose.

His one abiding thought was that he had to save Dean.

As the meaty hands shot out towards him, Seth tensed his body in preparation for the blow. Surprisingly however, the fist never collided and instead the space around him was suddenly filled with noise. It was a long, drawn out exhale of furious emotion, kind of like a battle-cry and a growl all at once. The next thing he knew fucking Roman was there with him and battering Rusev with strike after strike.

Huh?

Rolling back over onto his front – and jesus he was going to need some ice – Seth watched the latest turn in amazement, wondering where the hell his brother had come from. Roman was fighting like a man possessed and the protectiveness in his emotions made Seth feel warm.

Or maybe that was internal bleeding.

In his bewildered state it was hard to be sure.

As Roman swung another punch, Rusev countered with a meaty fist to the gut and Roman let out an audible oof and stumbled backwards.

In response, Seth hauled himself back up.

He re-entered the fray with an actual bellow as the Bulgarian was advancing on Roman's breathless form, leading his attack with a head-long shoulder charge which dove into the stomach and threw the larger guy off. Once again however, Rusev's recovery was impressive and in a heartbeat the bulky goon's attentions were squarely back on him. He took a step towards Seth like Godzilla but before he could do anything, Roman was back up. Swooping in the Samoan powerhouse pinned the giant's arms behind his back, the energy it took to hold the big man steady instantly screwing up his whole face.

"Seth – ," he barked, but no other words were needed and the smaller man responded at once, reeling his fist back and letting off a sucker-punch which collided so hard into the middle of the cheekbone that Rusev's entire head snapped round. The eyes rolled back and it was clear he was unconscious.

Seth smiled proudly,

"Fucking knock out man."

Roman dropped the Bulgarian to the ground unceremoniously, pulling out a pair of cuffs and together they manoeuvred the big guy towards a street light and snapped the metal restraints in place. The second they clicked in, Roman was on his feet again and pulling his gun free,

"Have you seen Dean?"

"No," Seth shook his head, "They were in the fucking apartment man. They must have been waiting for him all along. I was trying to get up there when that asshole jumped me. I never thought they would be in the building. Fuck – ,"

Roman cut him off again sharply,

"You think they're still up there?"

"Honestly man? I don't know. I was kinda busy getting my head broken open,"

"Come on, we need to get to Dean."

They set off at a run down the street towards the building, with Seth pulling out his revolver as he went. His head was a jumble of conflicting emotions but more than anything he blamed himself. He was the one who had been watching the apartment. He was the one who had said it was secure. He had put up cameras and video surveillance but never fucking once had he actually checked inside. It hadn't occurred to him The League would be in there – no way would they have holed themselves up day and night.

Only that was exactly what they fucking haddone.

No way were they going to let their new cash cow slip through the net.

The thought of Dean and what they planned to do with him turned Seth's stomach up on its end and the breath ripped out of him like he was climbing at high altitude.

Be okay Dean, please be there.

He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if anything happened to his brother again.

They reached the top of the urine-soaked stoop at the same time that a middle aged woman was coming out, bursting through the doorway and sweeping her backwards as they charged inside and launched for the stairs.

"Hey – ," she yelled, following up with some expletives that positively turned the air around them blue. The two men put their heads down and ignored her.

Neither of them had the wherewithal to care.

"Second floor," Seth panted desperately, "Apartment twenty seven."

Roman spun off into a hall, stopping at the sight of a long and stained corridor, flanked on both sides by identical looking doors. There was one at the end which was hanging wide open and he surged straight towards it before Seth could say a word, working on some sort of unspoken telepathy and a bloodhound type instinct for tracking down Dean.

"This it?"

Seth nodded, keeping step alongside him,

"Yeah, that's it."

Both men had their guns drawn and they slowed down a little as they reached the threshold, taking up quiet positions on either side. Brown eyes met brown eyes and Roman nodded slightly. Seth's stomach tightened in anticipation.

Here we go.

Booting the half-open door off its hinges, both men raised their firearms and barrelled inside. Neither one of them knew what they were expecting but absolutely nothing didn't seem right. At the very least Seth had been hoping for Sheamus, or the one who liked to knock Dean around – Barrett that was the guy. Instead the apartment lay eerily empty, except for a chair upended on the floor. As Seth stepped towards it, his feet crunched into something and both men looked down.

Shit.

It was Dean's broken phone.

Glancing up at Roman in unspoken horror, both men moved into the apartment and looked around. They checked every door, every room, every hiding place but the truth was unavoidable.

Dean was gone.

"Fuck."

Crossing to the window to look down into the street, Roman paused to pick up something up. It was glinting on the linoleum and in the dank oppressive half-light, he couldn't initially work out what it was. As his fingers closed around it the answer hit him like a thunderbolt and he turned around slowly and held it outwards at Seth,

"Look."

"Holy fuck."

Roman was clutching a long empty needle and on seeing it the whole thing seemed instantly worse. The League hadn't simply kidnapped Dean out from under them, they had fucking sedated him and dragged him off. God only knew what they were already doing to him and how they were doing it and fucking where.

It was awful –

A horrible powerful sensation that made Seth feel the bottom had dropped clean from his world. He hadn't felt so helpless since he'd been sitting in the hospital, three years earlier, willing Dean to wake up. It was funny how the scruffier of his two elder brothers had a habit of forcing him to look at himself and the more he thought about it the more his resolve built until he found himself stalking straight back towards the door.

When he spoke, it was at a million miles an hour,

"Come on, we're only – what – five minutes behind them? We'll get back to the truck, get a description of the vehicle and get Steph to put the whole fucking force on alert. They want to take Dean from under our noses? Then we're going to rain down fucking fire on those scum."

Roman followed in silence behind him, but the fierce looking glower succinctly captioned his thoughts. Like Seth, the big man was a whir of emotions the most predominant of which was raw concern about Dean.

It hurt like an ache, or a colossal fucking migraine and he simply couldn't shake it.

He needed Dean back.

The whole thing was so completely unfair on him – on all them – they were just getting back on track. Then suddenly in had swooped some red-haired Irish moron and ripped him away from them.

They were going to pay with blood.

As they clattered down the stairs and pushed back past the woman – who had spent their brief absence seeking out more cuss words – Seth started tapping on his cell phone like a demon, pushing through the entry doors and growling down the line,

"Come on, come on – ,"

On the other end Roman heard a very faint crackle and then a sharp voice responded,

"Rollins? What's wrong?"

"You need to send men to our location in The Battleground, we've got one of The League of Nations handcuffed to a lamp. The rest of the gang took Dean, we're going to get him, but we need you to put out an APB on their van."

There was a pause as their boss tried to digest the information, but at least she got the main feature of it right.

"They've got Ambrose?"

"Swiped him out from under us. They were inside the apartment."

"So what you're telling me is that these guys were ahead of you this whole time?"

Nice Steph, rub it in.

"Yeah."

"And now they've got my best guy, is that right?"

Seth grit his teeth but maintained his composure as he and Roman stalked aggressively across the street. Rusev was still out of it and pinioned to the lamppost but the sight of the giant was beginning to draw groups. Three children playing jump rope were watching him closely and one of the little girls crept over and kicked his heel. As the Bulgarian giant groaned in his slumber and shifted, the little girl squealed and charged back off. If Seth hadn't been so pent up anxious, he might've even smiled.

As it was, his mind was on several other things.

Roman got to the surveillance truck three steps ahead of him and flung the doors open before half-vaulting in. Seth jumped up and squeezed in beside him, taking a seat and handing over his cell. He needed both hands to scan through the camera feeds and he did not need Stephanie playing the blame game in his ear.

Besides, he already blamed himself.

Hearing it from the boss was hardly going to help.

"Have you got a description of the vehicle?"

There she was again.

Roman growled slightly,

"Seth's working on it now."

That much was true, Seth's fingers were like lightning, chasing across the keys like he was playing a concert piece. On the multitude of screens that filled up the truck bed, images were moving as Seth wound them through, keen eyes looking for familiar features and something any-fucking-thing that would help.

Come on.

On one of the videos, Dean was entering the building and the sight of his best friend made Roman's insides flip round. He could only imagine what The League were doing to him. Maybe it was better that the bastards had knocked him out.

"Roman?"

"Huh?" Stephanie was calling him, her tone sounding doubly tense across the line, "Anything else you can tell me about what happened?"

"They drugged him."

"What with?"

Roman growled,

"I don't know."

There was a momentary silence as Stephanie processed that and Roman briefly wondered how their fractious boss felt. It was not a great secret that the Commissioner liked Ambrose. He was kind of like the annoying younger brother she'd never had. Something about them was simply too similar and she liked that the detective gave as good as he got. Even from their earliest days in The Shield, Dean had never been afraid of their boss and although she pretended that it frustrated her immensely, Stephanie had never hidden how much she liked that.

She may not have been as close to him as they were, but Stephanie McMahon loved Dean like they did.

"Fuck, I knew it," Seth abruptly bellowed, making Roman jump as he stabbed at the screen, "There!"

He was indicating a shot of the alley, lying around the back of the block and a rickety van parked up and unmoving, which had sat looking innocuous in shot after shot. It had been there from the moment Seth's cameras had started filming and it was easy to see why it hadn't drawn alarm. Suddenly however, as Roman stood watching, a mohawk-sporting figure staggered in from the bottom right. It was obvious from the feed that the figure was Sheamus but what made Roman's fists clench was what followed next.

The Irishman was part-supporting, part-dragging something with him, that was limp and unresponsive with its head hanging down. Roman would have known the messy mop anywhere and he actually exhaled at the sight of Dean.

"What's happening?" Stephanie snipped across the phone line, but Roman ignored her, eyes glued to the screen.

Dean's long legs were scuffing the ground uselessly and if weren't for Sheamus he would most likely have been prone. His other side was being supported by Wade Barrett and on seeing the scowling features, Roman couldn't help but growl.

No way would Dean want that bastard's hands on him, which meant that Roman didn't as well.

Back on the screen, Dean was hauled across the alleyway as Sheamus scurried ahead to open up the van. Both the Irishman and Englishman were casting around anxiously but the jitters didn't stop them from continuing to drag Dean. Barrett hauled him up to the lip of the vehicle and then unceremoniously rolled their captive in, pushing and prodding the body inside before jumping up after him and slamming shut the doors.

The last shot of Dean his teammates got was of his limp form sprawled across the van's dirty floor. He was silent and helpless and just so damn still that it was almost like watching a corpse.

Roman shuddered.

They fucking needed to bring him back home.

Without any warning Seth snatched back his cell phone and gabbled the details to Steph across the line,

"Okay, white van, Ford, I'll get you the licence plate. You need to get this out to every patrol car in town, every traffic camera, every off-duty officer - ,"

"Rollins, don't tell me how to do my job."

As the pair continued to bicker through the tension, Roman lost his patience, fast. Clambering across the seats he settled down behind the wheel and promptly fired the engine into life. It was all the hint Seth needed to cut the conversation short and after offering up the licence plate he cut their boss off. Joining Roman in the front via the console, he dropped into place and gave a little wince,

"Gonna pay for that, pretty sure I hung up on her."

"Doesn't matter," Roman grumbled, "We've got more important things to do."

In the background there was the unmistaken wail of sirens as a cruiser headed their way to uncuff Rusev and drag his ass straight to the nearest unclaimed cell. Personally Roman would have punished him with water-boarding, but peeing without the luxury of privacy would have to do.

"Where're we headed?" Seth asked vaguely, as Roman punched the gas and tore their truck from the curb, "Del Rio's place, Upper West Side, right?"

"I figure that's our best bet and we got nothing else to go on. Besides, it's where they took Dean when they stole his damn blood, so who knows? Maybe it's where they do the whole thing."

"In the guy's offices?" Seth frowned mildly, "I don't know man, isn't that a little close to home?"

"Got any other suggestions?"

"Not exactly."

Roman's brows narrowed,

"Then that's where we're gonna go."

The van fell silent for a long awkward moment as the bigger man practically slung them through the streets. At one point an old man pushing a shopping cart virtually had to dive out of their way. Seth said nothing, figuring it safer but eventually he sighed,

"Hey, we're going to get him back."

Roman's eyes drifted across to him darkly and the look made Seth inhale a sharp breath, but eventually the brown eyes seemed to slightly soften and the bigger man nodded,

"Damn straight we are."

"Just like the old days, huh?" Seth chanced cautiously and Roman snorted wryly,

"Really? You think so?"

"Sure, you don't? Ambrose getting himself into trouble, you and me riding in to save the day. You've seriously forgotten the god damn Wyatt case? That crocodile farm in the middle of nowhere?"

A smile ghosted fleetingly across Roman's face and he turned towards his teammate and fixed him a look. In an instant they were on exactly the same page again and it felt pretty good.

In fact it felt right.

"Remember what I said to you before we went in there?"

Seth nodded back at him,

"You fucking know I do."

"Regardless, I'm gonna say it a second time," Roman paused, "Let's go get our boy."

Yep, Roman and Seth riding off to the rescue, but are they going to get there in time?