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

Dean was running. He had no clear destination in mind and had little care for the rain that poured down around him. But he did know that he needed to put distance between himself and that hospital room - he needed to separate himself from what he had done. The wound on his thumb still smarted, reminding him of the sacrifice that he had made. And the greatest evidence of his crimes was still on his person, heavy and cumbersome in his back pocket. The Swiss Army knife that had killed Ryback was now stained with his own blood, tangling him in the messy web that was their story.

"Go ahead and take Seth to the car. Grab a blanket out of the trunk and make sure he stays warm. We don't want him to go into shock." Dean said firmly, slowly leading Roman to the door. Once Roman crossed the threshold, however, Dean paused.

Roman noticed Dean's momentary hesitation and frowned. "C'mon, Dean. We don't have all day. We need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible."

"I know... just..." reaching into his pocket, he tossed Roman the keys. "Something didn't seem right to me back there, is all. I'm gonna have another look. Go ahead and take him to the ER. I'll meet you there."

Roman, still skeptical, offered Dean an uneasy glance. "You better hurry, before you have cops crawling all over your ass."

Dean, forcing a small smile, assured, "I'll make it quick."

After a few more hesitant seconds, Roman turned and started down the hallway, shifting Seth's weight in his arms. Once Dean was sure that he was gone, he quickly shut and locked the door. Roman was right - there really wasn't all that much time before the cops would be breaking down the door. He would have to make this quick. Reaching down and grabbing the fallen Swiss Army knife, he quickly loosed the attachment that had been impaled into Ryback's neck. It was still coated in thick, crimson blood, though some of it had started to chip off.

Using a clean strip of shirt, he started to scrub at the handle, attempting to remove all traces of Seth's fingerprints and DNA. When he was sure that the handle was sufficiently clean, he made a long incision in his thumb, pressing the cut to the handle and letting it run messy patterns on the patterned metal. The process was messy and slow, but once it was finished, he slowly made his way over to Ryback's body. Vivid depictions of Ryback tying Dean's baby to the bed and finding all kinds of unsavory ways to make him unravel filled Dean's mind until he couldn't take it anymore.

Squatting down, with one foot on either side of Ryback's broad frame, Dean stared at the bloody monster that had once been the bane of their existence. Taking his shirt once more, he rubbed down the area around the neck wound until the skin was red and irritated. And then, wrapping his bloody hand in Ryback's shirt, he raised the bloody knife and plunged it into Ryback's chest. The blood on the handle splattered and stained Ryback's shirt, effectively soaking him in Dean's DNA. Quickly removing the blade, he tucked it neatly back into the sheath and stuffed it into his back pocket. No sense of relief accompanied his actions.

Heading over to the sink, he washed his hands off all the blood and grime that accompanied his horrific deed, paying careful attention to attempting to staunch the flow of blood from his thumb. Afterward, he rifled through Ryback's bag, finding a black shirt that looked similar enough to his own. Changing into it, he stuffed his own bloody shirt in an inconspicuous gym bag (only to later ditch it in the alley behind the hotel). His face was schooled in an emotionless expression as he hailed a taxi and asked to be taken to the nearest hospital, where he eventually met up with Roman.

"What the hell took you so long, man? You were gone for an hour and a half!" Roman was livid, but perhaps, beneath it all, a tad worried as well. After all they had been through, a little concern was understandable.

"I had some business to take care of." Dean replied nonchalantly, barely able to contain a hiss as his thumb throbbed obnoxiously. "How's Seth doing?"

Roman's brown eyes flickered over to Seth, who lay unconscious on the hospital bed. "They rushed him into surgery as soon as he arrived. His wrist was a little worse off than we had guessed, and it was obstructing the flow of blood to his hand. If we would've gotten there any later, they would have had to amputate."

"How long is he going to be out?" Dean asked, feeling another surge of anger toward the deceased monster rise within him.

At this, Roman shrugged. "The doctor doesn't know. They have him on pretty strong pain killers, so possibly tomorrow."

An awkward pause passed between them. Both could tell that something wicked was hanging above their heads, but neither were brave enough to broach the subject. Finally, Dean spoke in a soft, almost meek voice, "You think a jury would buy self-defense?"

"I think that they would have to be blind not to. I mean, look at him, he's -," here, Roman's phone went off. Looking at the Caller ID, he began to curse beneath his breath. "It's Vince, I have to take this."

Dean understood, waving him off easily. Once Roman was out the door and in the hallway, chatting away with the Chairman of the Board, Dean slowly made his way over to Seth's bedside. Stroking a damp blond tress away from the boy's forehead, he felt tears come to his eyes for the first time since the great confession. Why did it have to be Seth that was so brutally abused? Why couldn't it have been him? Why couldn't it have been him lying in that hospital bed in Seth's place? Questions such as these swirled about in Dean's head, but most prominent among them was - Why didn't we see it from the beginning?

"Don't you worry, baby." Dean leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Seth's clammy forehead. "I'm going to take care of this. I'm going to make this right."

Dean came to a stop about a half-mile from the hospital, panting and breathless. By this time, the rain had stopped, but he was soaked to the bone. The bitter chill in the air made him shiver, but he made no effort to find shelter. He knew what he had to do. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the bloody knife. It glistened evilly by the light of the street lamps, making it look all the more like a weapon used to exact hellish revenge. Popping the blade out one last time, he squeezed the knife in his hand, before dropping it onto the sidewalk. It bounced off of the curb and onto the street, landing in a muddy puddle. That was the last Dean saw of it.

Roman returned to the hotel room only under threat of sedation. He wasn't surprised by Dean's absence. Dean's little fit earlier had left it's mark on Roman, and he had no doubt that if they were to meet again anytime soon, they would come to blows again. It seemed foolish, but it was true. Dean could be a stubborn little bastard when he wanted to be - especially when he was hurt and confused, like now. The last year had truly taken it's toll on all of them, and none could claim to be totally unchanged by the events that transpired. But was it really so much to ask for that things could one day return to some form of normalcy?

He thought about calling Dean, but dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came to mind. The last thing he needed to do was delay Dean's coming home by giving him ten more reasons to wander around Philadelphia in the middle of the night. They should know better than anyone that no street was safe, no matter the hour. Briefly, he considered calling Vince, inquiring about an update on the Ryback case - Vince, after all, knew more about it then they themselves did - but again, he dismissed the idea before it could really take root. Instead, he plopped down on the bed and turned on the television.

The channel was pre-set to ABC news, and they were running some story about a fire in downtown Philadelphia. Roman, disinterested, leaned down to start untying his boots. That was, of course, until a news update flashed on the screen. "This just in, we're being informed of a new development in the Reeves Murder Case."

Roman's head snapped up and he watched as a brief re-cap of the scenario was played. "At eleven o' clock last night, the body of professional wrestler, Ryan Reeves, was found in a hotel room. He had been stabbed once in the neck and once in the chest, post-mortem. No murder weapon was found at the scene."

Roman's mind slowly processed the word's being thrown out by the telecaster. A stab wound to the chest? He'd seen the body himself, and that was impossible. Seth had acted in self-defense and had landed one clean strike to the neck. Done. He briefly remembered the young couple that had furiously stormed down the hall to scream at the poor receptionist about blood on their ceiling (the ones who had, ironically, gone on to write the newspaper article on it), but the idea was ludicrous. Why would they take photographic evidence of their crimes? And that left only one other possibility... but that was impossible.

"At seven-thirty this morning, what is believed to be the murder weapon was found by a young girl. Two types of blood were found on the blade. The first is confirmed as the victim's. No suspects have been named at this time." Roman turned off the television.

Roman recalled the bloody gash on Dean's thumb, which had looked to be suspiciously fresh. He remembered how anxious Dean had been to 'fix' everything, even after Ryback's death. But something just didn't add up. Who did he think he was helping? Seth would've gotten away clean with self-defense - any jury would have to be blind to not see the pain that he had endured. And Roman, while he was still working through the emotional tumult, was feeling better as well. But Dean... for him, everything was bottled up inside, the energy building until it would just... explode. That's when he saw the note.

Roman -

By the time you read this, they'll have found the knife. Soon after that, they'll match the blood on the blade to my own.

You're probably wondering why I did it. I know, because I would to. In short, I did it for all of us. I did it to save us in a way that I'm not sure I'll ever be able to make you understand. Seth couldn't withstand the stress of another trial. I couldn't stand the heartache of knowing that it is my fault he has to be on trial in the first place. Now, they'll know for certain that he was only a victim in a cruel, unforgiving game. Now, they'll see.

You and Seth have little comprehension of what it is like for me right now. Constantly, I question why I was the one he didn't take, why I was the one left unscathed. If I could go back in time and erase what happened, I would - no, if I could do it for you, I would. This is all I have left to give you, my final offering. By the time you read this, it'll be too late. Seth... he doesn't need to know. I was never big on secrets, but this? It's between you and me.

I'll be at the place where it all began. It's a rather fitting place for it all to end, don't you agree?

Dean