Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Kidnapping, Threats, Self-Harm, Non-Con, etc.

Tears streaked down Seth's face. He felt sick to his stomach, unable to believe that Dean would reject him like that. If Dean didn't want him, how could he ever expect Roman to welcome him back? Roman's reaction to almost any situation was violence. Seth wasn't sure that he could take any more abuse. If he did, he was certain that his body would just break apart. He would be destroyed and it would all be because he couldn't tell Dean he was raped.

Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he stumbled out of the front of the hotel and into the darkness. He had to find Roman. Even if he didn't want to find Roman, he knew that he had to. If Roman died, he knew that he would blame himself. He would fall further and further into depression and would end up like Dean – a bleeding arm and a bloody knife in the bathroom sink. He needed to save himself. And he needed to try and save Dean and Roman.

Not knowing where to look, and more than a little bit afraid of the things that haunt the dark, Seth crossed the street and inspected the sidewalk around him. He didn't know why, but he had a hunch that Roman was nearby the hotel. As it turned out, that hunch was correct. Turning around the corner, he found a splotch of black on the otherwise grayish sidewalk. Illuminated by the dull splatter of light from the streetlamp, it turned out to be dark red.

Seth's heart froze in his chest. Could this be where Roman had been? Could this be where his attacker had killed Roman? His stomach churned as he fell to his knees a few centimeters away from the blood splatter. That bastard couldn't have killed Roman. He couldn't have. But what unsettled him most was the fact that most of the blood was concentrated at where Roman's head would have been. He could have died from blunt force trauma, or worse…

And then, in the dark, he noticed a slip of white paper a few feet away from the mess of blood. It lay there, the occasional splatter of red on the white… but otherwise, it was just so perfect. Maybe it was a note from Roman. Maybe it was the last words going through Roman's head before he died. Or maybe Roman wasn't dead at all. Seth just didn't know. But what he did know was that he needed to read it to find out.

It read:

It's unfortunate that it needs to be like this. I can't do this anymore. I can't be like this anymore. I'm the reason that Seth left us, the reason that everyone eventually leaves us. I'm well aware that I'm the only one to blame. And so this is goodbye. I write this in my last moments, hoping that it will get finished before I die. But the flow of blood is a little faster than I had anticipated… and, to be honest, I'm scared.

If I could say one thing before I die, it's that I still love Seth. I haven't said it enough, I know, and I know that saying it now is much too late to change anything, but…. I don't know. I've never been very good with words. But I do love Seth, and Dean as well. Even in death, nothing will change that. You'll find someone else to take my place. You'll find someone better. There's no reason to mourn the one whose already be forgotten, after all.

The letter trembled in Seth's hands. He couldn't believe that Roman would kill himself. It didn't make any sense at all. Roman wasn't like that. Wouldn't he have seen signs? And that didn't explain why his attacker was drenched in blood that quite obviously wasn't his own. What exactly had happened back there? Seth was almost certain that he would never know, but… he knew that this couldn't be right.

He let the letter fall into the mess of blood, not caring that the words written on the slip of paper were lost forever. Roman wasn't dead. He was certain that he would be able to tell that his bigger lover was dead, he'd be able to feel it. And he knew that he wasn't. Roman was still out there somewhere. This, of course, only left one question. Where the hell had the bigger man gone?

Earlier That Night

Roman awoke to a cold hand on his cheek and the worried voices of two females above him. He blinked blearily, only able to see them through a film of red. "Wha…"

"Oh, thank God he's awake!" The first woman, a dirty blonde, exclaimed to her friend. She had a rather faint British accent. "Katie, call an ambulance."

"No. No, don't call an ambulance." Roman slurred. Where the hell was he? And why did he feel like a tractor trailer had run him down? "Where… where am I?" He coughed, blood splattering on his hand. "What the fuck?"

"You poor thing." The two-tone haired woman knelt beside him. Her friend had called her 'Katie'. "You're on the side of the street, about a block from the hotel. We don't know what happened to you."

"What do you mean?" Roman groaned as he tried to sit up. "What do you mean 'what happened to me'?"

"Don't move!" The one with the British accent warned. "We think that you may have cracked your ribs."

Vaguely, he remembered vomiting blood earlier that evening. "Who are you?"

They shared a look, before Katie answered, "Kaitlin and Layla, from the roster." She stated matter-of-factly. "We were out with a few friends, and when we turned the corner, you were on the ground and some man was running off."

Roman's eyes widened. "What the fuck did that bastard do to me?"

He tried to sit up again, but Layla tenderly pushed him down. "It's probably best that you don't see."

But Roman's will was stronger. He pushed back, maybe a little bit harder than necessary, and Layla stumbled back. Layla and Kaitlin shared a look, waiting for the inevitable explosion, but it never came. Roman simply stared at his body, brown eyes slowly taking in the grotesque scene, and remained utterly silent. Perhaps it was the silence that scared them more, but neither could know for sure.

Roman seemed most concerned about the fact that blood stained the inside of his thighs, however, and that his pants had been lowered and unzipped. He was thankful that that hadn't been the focus on the women's attention, but since he had only woken a few minutes ago, he couldn't be entirely certain about that. Feeling sick, he leaned over, emptying the contents of his stomach into the gutter. Luckily, Kaitlin and Layla looked away.

Once he was finished, he wiped his mouth on the back of his arm (a little disheartened to find even more blood on his tanned skin), and carefully started to climb to his feet. Layla offered him her hand, but he refused it. Roman didn't need anyone's charity, especially after what had happened (if that was even what had happened; nobody could know for certain). When he was finally on his feet, he rocked back and forth unsteadily.

And then, as if to preserve whatever was left of his modesty, he zipped up the front of his pants (unable to button them, due to the fact that his button was now floating down in the gutter). The women stared at him uncertainly, as if he would suddenly collapse and die at their feet. Thankfully, nothing that drastic occurred. Instead, he sort of stumbled forward. He reached out for the nearest wall and straightened himself before he fell.

"Where is Seth?" It was the only thing he could think to ask, the only thing that he could actually remember.

The women shared a look. Kaitlin was the first to answer. "We… we don't know where Seth is. He wasn't at the party or anything. Why? Is he missing?"

Roman nodded distractedly, not liking the way that it made the world swim around him. Layla added, "I mean, the last time that we saw him, he was leaving with someone… I didn't see his face, but he was on the bigger side."

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Bigger as in?"

"Muscular." Layla cleared up.

"Do either of you know what his name was? Any other distinctive details? Anything?"

Kaitlin shrugged. "You guys aren't exactly hailed as heroes on the roster. It could've been anyone, really. And I doubt that, if someone did know, they'd rat him out. They probably wouldn't think you're in any real danger."

Roman growled low in his throat, his bloody muscles bulging. What happened on the screen was scripted, it wasn't like they actually had a personal vendetta against these people. Anyone that they attacked would have to be an absolute moron to take it personally once the cameras went off. But then, right now, they weren't dealing with a moron. They were dealing with an incredibly smart mastermind.

"Are you sure that you're okay?" Layla added. "You look a little sick."

Roman shook his head, looking away from them. "I'm fine. I don't need your pity."

Kaitlin looked uncertain. "Are you sure?"

"I said that I'm fine. Back off!" He screamed, venom dripping from every word.

Roman's eyes widened. He hadn't meant to snap like that. But his lower back and ass had started to burn, further confirming his worst fear. He had wanted so desperately to believe that that bastard hadn't done anything to him, but the evidence supported a different theory. Thinking that he had taken him out of the equation permanently, he had raped him. But Roman was stronger than he had given him credit for.

Without saying another word to the two girls, he started to stumble off in the opposite direction of the hotel. He didn't even notice when a slip of crumbled paper fell out of his hand, bouncing on the concrete and rolling toward the mess of blood. The two women didn't touch it. In fact, they avoided it as if it would suddenly come alive and burn them. No, they simply stood there and watched as Roman stumbled away, leaving a bloody trail behind him…

Dean looked into the mirror uncertainly. He knew that it was wrong to turn Seth away like that. Seth deserved a lot better. But he still didn't know why Seth had left, and for all he knew, he could have been cheating on them the entire time. But he shook his head, immediately dismissing the idea. Seth wasn't like that. He wasn't vindictive. Even if he was absolutely done with them, he would talk with them before turning on them like that.

He peeled the towel away from his arm, inspecting the congealed blood over the long cut that stood mere centimeters from a major artery. If he had cut just a few centimeters over, he wouldn't have been able to answer the door. He would have been dead. And for some reason, that idea didn't scare him as much as it should. Instead, he let his dark eyes flicker up to the mirror. Even the mirror reflected a man who was already dead.

"I'm sorry, Seth." He whispered, retrieving the knife out of the sink. The water that dripped from the faucet had cleaned most of the blood off the blade. "But I can't do this without you."

It only took one flick of the wrist, before the knife fell out of his hand and he stumbled back, his back colliding with the side of the shower. He sank down to the floor, reveling in the way the world flickered in and out of focus in front of him. It was only a matter of time now. And without Seth and Roman, it wouldn't really matter. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would care. And with those thoughts in mind, he closed his eyes.