Fear is Real {WWE FanFiction}

Chapter 3

*One Week Later*

The bass of the music filled the house and reverberated in the cramped space. Roman's foot bounced in time with the beat. He lifted his cup to his mouth, taking a sip of whatever alcohol someone had handed him when he walked in. It was hot in here; too many bodies packed into too small of a space. Roman wiped sweat from his forehead.

As the music faded and people moved to get drinks, Seth pushed past Roman. The Samoan locked eyes with his former friend for half a second. Then Seth was gone, pulled away by some chick. Roman watched him go, an uneasy feeling creeping over him.

A new song started up. He caught a glimpse of Dolph, Kofi, and Paige dancing together before the crowd swarmed what was the living-room-turned-dance-floor. It took him a moment but he recognized the song: "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven.

Roman let his eyes wander, searching for Dean. He was worried about him. For the past week Dean had been getting shitfaced every night, barely sleeping, eating next to nothing. That, coupled with the fact that they were currently in a house half filled with people they didn't know, in a city they didn't know, made him even more anxious to find his friend.

No one was standing still, making it difficult to locate Dean. Roman pushed his way through clumps of people, frantic. He ignored the multiple people who called his name.

He spotted Seth, who tilted his head almost imperceptibly to the right. Roman squeezed around the dance floor, and breathed a sigh of relief. Dean was standing in the corner, drink in hand and a few more scattered around him. A lamp - the only light source other than colored ones here and there around the house - sat on a table behind Dean, casting his face in shadow and throwing one onto the floor.

The uneasy feeling returned, sinking like a lead weight into his stomach. Dean was clearly talking to himself. Roman frowned. He knew Dean was a little nuts but he'd never seen him talk to himself before.

Then he looked at Dean's shadow. A cold chill danced down his back, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

There, plain as day, next to Dean's shadow, was a second figure. But no one was standing anywhere near the lamp or Dean.

Roman turned away quickly as Dean looked up in his direction. He didn't want Dean to think he was spying or anything.

Across the room, Seth nodded once at Roman, as if to say, I see it too. The Samoan swallowed, apprehension building.

-*-*-*-

A figure emerged from the darkness, a hood pulled up, casting most of the face into shadow. The lips curved up into a familiar smirk. Roman rolled his weight from foot to foot in nervousness. His palms were slick with sweat.

The figure opened his mouth to speak, but Roman couldn't hear what he was saying. He shook his head.

"I can't hear you," he told the figure.

Scowling, the figure raised one hand and touched it to Roman's forehead. Three words echoed in his mind:

"I'll save you."

Roman woke with a start. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and his hair clung to his face and neck.

Slowly he calmed down. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table, then grimaced when he saw it was only 2:31am. Rain drummed dully on the window. He sighed.

"No," he heard Dean mutter.

He doesn't talk in his sleep, Roman thought. Who's he talking to now?

"No," Dean said again. "I won't do it. I can't do it."

Roman stayed still, holding his breath, trying to hear every word.

"I won't. You can't make me. I've done everything you've asked but this...this is where I draw the line." A lengthy pause, then:

"Roman stays out of this. We agreed on that."

That was it; he sat up. He had to know what was going on, and hearing his name only made him even more curious.

"Dean?" he said.

A thick silence pervaded the room. It pressed on Roman's ears like a deafening scream, and the darkness was so complete that all he could see of Dean were two bright pinpricks that were his eyes.

Then, a voice so low and guttural it made Roman's skin crawl and ice flood his veins.

"He knows too much. He must be taken care of."

Pressure, like a hand, closed around Roman's throat.