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

Roman walked back into the other room, looking down at Dean's battered body with a poorly hidden self-loathing. "You're a bloody fucking mess, Dean."

"Thank you." The blond offered a cocky smile. His lips were badly cracked and he licked them uselessly. "You mind unlocking these things?" He shook his wrists and listened to the resulting clangor of the handcuffs hitting the bed posts. "I'm getting a little sore."

Roman chuckled blandly. It was an unfamiliar, throaty sound. "You're getting a little sore, huh? I can personally guarantee that you'll be more than 'a little sore' come morning." Still, he unlocked the handcuffs and let Dean's limbs fall to the bed. "You want some Tylenol?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Are you shitting me? Tylenol won't touch this. I'll just sleep it off. I'll be back to one-hundred percent before you know it."

"And what about Seth?" Roman thought to ask.

Dean shrugged. "What about him?"

"Don't play dumb, Dean." Dean's cocky smile melted down into something akin to a grimace. "I know full-well that you know what I'm talking about. What he said to you back in the shower stall was no joke. He hates your guts."

"Thanks for putting it so 'kindly'." Dean feigned a smile.

"Well, what do you want me to do? Butter it up for you and then lace it up with a pretty little bow? I'm not gonna do that, Dean. I'm gonna tell it to you like it is." Roman said frankly.

"You think that I don't know how it is? Is that what you think?" Dean shook his head, his eyes narrow in disbelief. "I know exactly how it is. He wants me to die, and I've never been one to deny him anything."

"He doesn't really want this." Roman attempted to console him.

"How can you be so sure?" Dean asked. "Are you inside of his head? Do you know what he's thinking?"

Roman shook his head. "No, I'm not. But I do know that he's not it in his right mind and he's not thinking clearly. He doesn't know what he said."

"I'm not so sure you heard the same conversation that I did. He was sure, Roman. He was damned sure."

Roman looked at the clock. He really didn't want to be having this conversation right now. Comforting people just wasn't his forte. "I should really go visit him. The doctor said that they might need some of his medical information and..."

"You wouldn't want him to wake up and see me there." Dean finished meekly.

"That's not what I meant at all."

"You didn't have to say it." Dean shrugged. "It was all in the way that you said it. Don't worry. I'm not upset."

But Roman wasn't convinced. "And even if I did decide to leave, how can I be certain that you won't..." he didn't want to actually say the words, or plant any ideas into Dean's head. The blond was already short-circuiting, after all.

"You can't be." Dean shrugged again. "I guess you just have to take a leap of faith." Roman wasn't the 'leaping' kind. "And rest assured that, if I planned on doing anything, I had an entire hour and a half while you were with Seth to carry it out. And look - still here."

Finally, Roman was convinced. "And it better be that way when I come back."

Roman didn't have much to say after that. It was a little chilly outside, so he took a jacket. Afterwards, he left without a sound. Dean rolled his eyes. Roman had never been one for pleasantries, such as 'hello' or 'goodbye'. No, that would be too commonplace, too formal. He preferred to slip under the radar, to come in and out of someone's consciousness without them knowing otherwise. Dean could respect that. It was part of what made him such a perfect muscle-man for the Shield. However, it could also be disconcerting at times.

Normally, Dean would have been set at ease by the fact that Roman had even bothered to stop by at all. The unorthodox form of comfort had even caused him to relax... somewhat. It still felt as if an iron poker had been stabbed into his rib cage, but that feeling would soon subside. It was nothing to worry about, anyhow. Dean knew that a broken or bruised rib felt much worse. He also knew that Roman would never hit hard enough to do any permanent damage. But at the same time, it did little to quell the stabbing ache in his chest.

Seth was his entire world, and right now, his 'entire world' was calling for his death. There were no words to describe just how much that killed him inside. Like Seth and Roman, Dean also had his own backstory. He had entertained several relationships before finally accepting that he was gay. Many of these relationships had, in fact, been abusive. The power had predominantly been in the woman's hands, and she took full advantage of it... right up until the restraining order. Seven of them, to be exact. For seven very special little ladies. So, to say that it took a lot of trust to let Roman do that... well...

Dean never really knew what love was. He was used to being pushed around by those he 'cared about', and thus associating this care with the love that was supposed to follow suit. However, it never did. Constantly, Dean was surrounded by one-sided relationships. That was why the Shield had been so different. Three very different men coming together for a common purpose, with no ulterior motives, no egos, nothing. They were the perfect faction. Until one idiot came in and wrote a few letters and blew it all to shit... Yeah, where was the 'perfection' now?

"How is he, doctor?" Chris asked worriedly.

"Stable." The doctor answered in his grave, deep voice. "The match tonight was a mistake. It won't cost him his life, thankfully, but it'll put him on the bench for a few weeks. He tore his stitches and sustained moderate swelling, as well as internal bleeding and bruised organs."

"Can I assume that all of this was repaired in the operation?" Chris asked, his voice weak.

"It was repaired to the best of our ability, yes. Some of the healing will have to be done naturally, however." He answered.

Chris didn't like that answer. 'To the best of our ability' sounded like there was something more that could be done, but they just hadn't tried. "May I go in and see him, then?"

The doctor looked through the glass window, which showed a clear view of Phil's bed. "Yes, you may. He's unconscious now, and I'd like to try and keep him that way for another twenty-four hours. On the off chance that he does wake up, phone for the nurse."

"Okay." Chris nodded dutifully, before he stepped into the room.

Immediately, he was overwhelmed by the stark amount of white that surrounded him. It stood in stark contrast to the blood that still stained his clothes. That had earned him a few odd looks out front - one woman had even asked if he needed a gurney - but he paid them no mind. Phil was his number one priority and he couldn't take the risk that in the time it took him to change, Phil could lose his life. So he had come dressed as he was. When he had arrived, Phil was being prepped for surgery. That was over five hours ago, now. And Chris hadn't had a wink of sleep.

Now, Chris stared down at Phil's battered body. He looked absolutely awful. The dark circles around his eyes were even more pronounced, and the skin of his face had turned a ghastly white. There were several smaller wounds were the doctors had had to do microscopic surgery as well. His arms lay weakly over the plain white sheet, one ghastly white arm stretched out over the blanket, showing a needle that had been inserted into the tiniest vein possible. That must've been an absolute nightmare to get in. Chris could only imagine how it would feel coming back out.

Quickly, Chris claimed the seat beside Phil's bed. He never allowed his eyes to leave Phil's unconscious frame, as if thinking that he would suddenly wake up, spring out of bed, and leave before Chris had the chance to sit down. It was a silly fear and he knew it, but everything had been so scary for him ever since he had awoken that night to find that Phil wasn't in bed with him anymore. It was absolutely terrible, thinking that the one that you loved, the one that you had always promised to protect, had gotten shot because you were sleeping and didn't know that they were gone.

"Oh, Philly." Chris didn't notice the tears were falling until it was too late, and by that time, he just didn't care.

Dean awoke to a shadow hovering above the bed. It brought with it the faint scent of blood and sweat, which were both very familiar to Dean. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to flutter open. A dim, distant feeling of confusion and dread washed over him as he realized that all of the lights had gone out. That was strange. He could've sworn that the lights were on when Roman had left, and he had made no move to turn them off before he had sacked out. That could only mean that... A flicker of moon shimmered through the part in the curtains, revealing the shiny silver edge of a freshly sharpened blade.

"You should've locked the door."