The weekend leading up to Night of Champions seems to somehow pass by both in a blur and excruciatingly slow, Del Rio staring out over the city line as he waits for the event to start, put him out of his misery. The memories of time past with Ricardo continue to haunt him and he swallows, missing having his friend by his side for pay per views, or just general day to day things.

But he knows, despite his good intentions from the start, that he deserves all of this. Deserves the pain as he turns a corner at the arena Sunday just to find Ricardo and RVD standing close together in the hall, the ring announcer grinning as RVD stumbles over saying various Spanish words. "No, no, that's antedecir," he says with a laugh.

Rob hesitates and looks over at him, eyebrows raised. "Oh. Yeah. Alright, man. Antedecir."

"It just means I predict victory for you," Ricardo says, eyes gleaming even as he gingerly shifts his still healing arm in the sling. Rob grins and wraps an arm around his shoulders, the two still going back and forth on various Spanish words as they return to the locker room to finish getting ready.

Alberto releases a shuddering breath before looking around. Finding a tech, he stands over the man and stares down at him darkly. "Um, how can I help you, Mr. Del Rio?" he stammers, eyes wide in intimidation.

"What is Ricardo Rodriguez doing here? I thought he wasn't allowed to be in RVD's corner tonight," he spits, everything from Friday once more playing through his mind as he wonders if he'd heard wrong, or-

"Vickie Guerrero changed her mind, she decided he's allowed after all." The tech grows truly worried then as Alberto all but snorts at him in anger, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tries to get away from the tense Mexican aristocrat.

"Ay dios mio," he snarls, pressing a thumb against the bridge of his nose. That will make all of this much worse, having to compete the match with his best friend watching, hoping for Del Rio's failure. And if he should try anything and force Alberto to react... "Maldita sea..."

Beyond frustrated, he storms back into his locker room and slams the door behind him, leaning against it as he breathes heavily, shaking his head. "Why can nothing go right?" Kicking his heel against the wood, he lunges forward and grips his title belt, staring at it grimly. "I have to finish the match quickly," he decides. "Not that I was planning on drawing it out, but one way or another-"

And so, when the time comes, he ignores the ring announcer as best as he can, which is especially hard with flashes of red from that garish shirt RVD had given him in his peripheral vision every time Ricardo moves at ring side, but he focuses as well as he can on the contest, things disturbingly even between he and the highflyer until finally he slips the armbar on, twisting back in ways he had tried to be careful not to do on Friday to Ricardo, honestly not caring if he hurts Rob or not.

The referee begins ordering him to release the hold when Rob makes it to the ropes a few moments later, and he considers it for a split second before catching a glimpse of Ricardo, arm still held to his side thanks to the sling, and he shakes his head, pulling back even harsher on the appendage, smirking as the referee begins the count. Bypassing five, he calls for the bell and the match goes by DQ, Alberto laughing as he yet again regains his belt. The technical loss means little to him, he is still champion, and that's the important thing.

But the longer he stares out at his former ring announcer, remembering Friday, how RVD's stupidly impulsive action had caused him to probably injure Ricardo's arm when he had been doing his level best to be careful with the armbar, he rolls out of the ring and finds a steel chair, wanting to make the other man pay for that, for challenging him, for... taking their friendship and making it seem so replaceable, even though part of him logically knows that's not what happened. He's about to swing at the downed man when there's a flash of red behind him and-

The chair's gone, his lips parting in shock as he turns to look, a determined looking Ricardo quickly escaping with the weapon. That distraction is enough as RVD kicks him, dazing him. The next thing he knows, he's in the corner of the ring and Ricardo is kneeling next to him outside of the ropes by the turnbuckle, holding the steel chair against his face and... nononono... but he's weary and unable to move, simply watching through the slots in the steel as RVD climbs the rope on the other side of the ring and dives, striking the chair against his face in one of his old moves, pain immediately throbbing down his jaw as blood wells up in his mouth.

He knows immediately. He's lost a tooth. Groaning as referees and trainers enter the ring to help him backstage, he spits it out into his hand and feels around his mouth with his tongue, grimacing at the coppery taste. "Ay," he hisses. Between this pay per view and the last, his face is taking a fair amount of damage- black eyes and lost teeth and...

He's almost afraid to see what Battleground in a few weeks will bring him.

Thanks to his money and impatience, he gets into a dentist early the next day and begins to repair the damage done, relieved to be told that everything would be sorted in time for Smackdown.

Granted the night off from Raw as he's still numb from the beginning stages of work done to him only a few hours earlier, he watches from his hotel room as RVD defeats Sandow and celebrates with Ricardo, eyes narrowed as he rewatches still frames from the Van Terminator that they feel the need to air. He does, however, grow a little concerned when Miz is taken out by Orton and Ricardo disappears, not seen for the rest of the night even when RVD is shown. He suspects the ring announcer had probably gone to spend time with the loudmouth, but still, it's somehow unsettling not even catching a glimpse of Ricardo for the rest of the night.

Smackdown is even worse. Ricardo is still not there, the rumor being that RVD had given the younger man the night off to stay in LA, and Alberto blinks a time or two, trying to think. He can only remember a handful of times he'd given him time off, and each time only due to injury or because of his suspension. It had never been just because, and yes, the man had never complained, seeming content to remain by Del Rio's side and do what needed to be done, but Alberto is a little disquieted by the thought of it, wondering if there had ever been time Ricardo would've liked a day off here and there just to relax, have some time to himself...

But it's too late to fix that, so he tries to distract himself by watching idly as Vickie announces an elimination match with the eleven superstars who had fought together on Raw against the three members of The Shield, one at a time, RVD in the mix. He smirks, now growing relieved that Ricardo isn't at the show tonight, able to fully enjoy Rob get what's coming to him at the hand of those jackals...

The first four competitors, of course, are defeated soundly quickly by the three men, and number five is RVD himself. Alberto sits forward to watch, a prickling reminder in the back of his mind that, nearly on the other side of the country, his former ring announcer is probably sitting anxiously, watching also as Rob fights against the three men, somehow holding his own where the past four had failed.

It looks like he might have a chance, to Del Rio's complete disgust, when HHH's music hits and distracts everyone as he puts an end to the match until Roman stands and throws Rob clean off of the turnbuckle, the man hitting the barricade wall and slumping to the floor below, barely twitching. Alberto has to laugh, not minding the man's turmoil, although he grows all the more thankful that Ricardo is nowhere nearby to get wrapped up in this madness.

Quickly growing bored of watching the show, Alberto leaves his locker room and wanders the hallways, looking around for anything to do- he has a nothing match against R-Truth a little later, but for now-

"Hey, Del Rio," HHH's gravelly voice calls out and he stops short, turning to look at the COO suspiciously. "Come here, I have something to tell you."

Joining him warily, Alberto raises an eyebrow at him and waits while HHH smooths down his suit. "What do you want?" he finally asks, unable to bite down his impatience any longer.

"Since your match at Night of Champions ended in a disqualification, I'm granting RVD a rematch at Battleground," he finally says. "Just wanted you to know. I'm about to tell Rob now."

All Del Rio can do is gape as the man enters the trainer's office, his voice audible through the open door. Alberto glares at the wall as he listens to HHH question the trainer about RVD's condition, then tell him about the rematch. As soon as the room is quiet, HHH now gone, Alberto enters from the other door and stands, silently stewing as he stares at his opponent, remembering his lost tooth, how comfortable Ricardo seems to be becoming around him, the anger growing within him.

Clenching his fist, he attacks, barely mindful of what he's actually doing as he sends the man to the floor, throwing him into storage cases and almost considering leaving then, the man all but frozen at his feet as the trainer yells at him, instead turning back around and dropping a heavy case against RVD's back, leaving him motionless against the floor as he leaves, chest heaving.

His high continues as he quickly does away with Truth, that match barely lasting a few minutes until he taps to the armbar, the World Heavyweight Champion grinning. Yes, his mouth may still be tender and he may have to turn his focus onto Battleground shortly, but for now... for now, he's champion, Ricardo is safely away from this arena and whatever mess The Shield may bring later on under HHH's orders, and he's feeling pretty confident in what's to come.

Things could be worse.