Bray Wyatt knew things.

Things. Things like bugs, with little thin legs that pricked at the skin and started an itch, an itch that spread like fire and felt like it, too, burned like it.

The others, they didn't know the things that Bray knew - but they felt the itch, oh, they felt it, and even if they couldn't understand what it was and what it was doing they felt the burning, like molten lava rolling over their skin, corroding them, through the flesh and through the muscle and to the bone. It ate them, but it took it's sweet time, savoring the flavor of hopes and dreams and life, and it didn't stop until there was nothing left - until they were devoid of life, merely hollow shells, bodies that did nothing but exist, a fate worse than being a ghost.

The others couldn't, but Bray Wyatt saw these things. He saw them crawling over their skin, tracing the fine lines of their bodies, always moving and multiplying and consuming, consuming, consuming. Some only had a few - they had only just got the bite. Some had many, some were dripping with them. Some were literally drowning in them. But Bray had yet to meet one who was too far gone, who was beyond help.

Bray Wyatt had put himself into the business of helping people.

Finn Balor knew. Not all of it, he didn't understand, but he knew.

Bray wondered how long he had known, imagined a young Balor staring into the mirror and seeing blood and hide and teeth and weeping wounds and bloodshot eyes. He wondered if it had scared him, given him night terrors to fall asleep to, or whether he was really a sick bastard on the inside and got a kick out of it. Bray liked the thought of the latter.

The thing was, on the surface at least, Finn Balor was a nice guy. So he tried to control it, keep it in check. He had, at one point, tried to ignore it, just hope it would go away, and Bray could tell because he could see the scars it had left, hollow parts in Finn that would never refill themselves and that one could sometimes hear the winds whistling through, like an ominous warning as to what Finn really was. Now he let the demon out on occasion, let it swallow him for a brief period and do what it liked, gave it a taste of what it sought, but never let it go all the way. And that there was the flaw; that the demon was never fully satisfied. It always sought that little bit more, and a little bit more wasn't enough to destroy Finn but a little bit more and a little bit more and a little bit more soon becomes a lot more, and a lot more becomes that familiar rumble of the stomach, aching of the ribs, tightness in the chest. It becomes the demon on a path of destruction, breaking it's host from the inside out to get free and get what it needs.

In saving himself, Finn Balor was destroying himself.

Baron Corbin, on the other hand, was the opposite of Balor. He had no clue - but he was surviving.

Bray liked Corbin. He liked that he wasn't afraid to be bad, to be nasty, to let go of the morals that the rest of the world clung so tightly to, and he liked that he did it all without realizing it was what kept him living. He was innocent. And Bray liked that about him most, because it was the most hidden thing about Baron Corbin, the thing that nobody saw unless they also saw the other side of him. The other side of the coin.

Bray had to ask, didn't he ever wonder? When his eyes rolled back and the world become a blur of movement and sounds he shouldn't be able to hear and smells that were too strong and too new, didn't he ever wonder what it was? Maybe he thought everyone else was the same, that they too felt the dog within them, the gnashing teeth and sharp claws and thick, bristling pelt that ached for nothing more than to feel hot blood and flesh. His bones creaking with the weight of it all. Maybe he thought it was just the rush of battle, the adrenaline or something. Oh, Bray could just eat his innocence up.

But the wolf did not like to go unheard for too long. It was stirring, begging for Baron to see it for what it (he) truly was. The itch was growing stronger and burning hotter and being dealt to less easily. And Bray saw, oh he saw, he saw that Baron was noticing, at last. He was delighted, truly delighted, practically giddy with glee.

For as delicious as innocence was, he much preferred the taste of that very innocence being shattered.

The wolf, the beast, the things, they fed on one thing: submission. One giving into another, whether willingly, by persuasion, or by carnal force. And really, that was how it all worked in the world anyway, wasn't it? The lion and the gazelle, so on and so forth. It was just an act of survival. For them, the ones with the bite, the curse, the itch, it was a matter of submission through lust - the pinning of one against a mattress, a couch, a wall, a floor, of sweat and heavy breathing and moans and bites that stain the skin blue - or submission through pure destruction - the snapping of bones, the dislocation of joints, the breaking of teeth, the gashing of skin, blood not just spilling but flowing, flowing, red, red, all red. Or, Bray supposed, one could combine the two, but he had yet to try that himself.

It was this which satisfied the itch, which soothed the burn, which made one feel...normal. It was funny, hilarious, how it worked like that. That to feel normal, one had to not just accept but embrace, encourage that they were anything but. Maybe there was never such a thing in the first place. But whatever it was, it was better than the burn, the spinning world and shaky spine, the bones feeling like they may crumble into dust at any moment. They didn't realize that. Baron was starting to, Finn was halfway there, but they both still needed that extra little...push.

Bray would help them.

After all, Bray loved helping.

And soon enough, they would be helping themselves.

God, Balor was such a nice guy. Waiting outside the showers for his best friend Hideo Itami. It almost warmed Bray's heart.

Finn didn't even notice Bray's approach until he was right there, right in front of him. Smiling, he ran his hand down Finn's cheek, starting from the top of his head, fingers trailing over temple and cheekbone, finally cupping around his jaw. "You'll say hi to your friend Hideo for me, won't you, Finn?"

"Hu-" Bray's own wide grin reflected down at him through Finn's staring eyes, and then-

Leather skin.

Blood stain, blood dripping, blood pooling.

Shiny, shiny, sharp teeth.

Push and creak and crack and snap of bone.

Bray's reflection dissolved before his eyes as Finn blinked rapidly. For a moment, a moment that Bray didn't miss, he looked scared, frightened, shocked, and then, for just a second, nervous, and then back to the same old, same old Finn. He obviously didn't suspect Bray had seen it too, the demon, felt it's heat on his shoulder as well. Maybe there was innocence in Finn Balor yet.

Bray's smile widened, and he walked away again. The sound of the shower doors opening behind him was his farewell.

He waited in the hallway for Corbin to pass, and he knew he would. He had to. Despite what Corbin believed, he was as predictable as the others - to Bray at least.

As soon as he came through, Bray stepped in front of him, repeating the same motion he had done with Balor.

"Hello, Baron."

And the wolf really was wound up, begging to be heard, because there it was, right there, no hesitation or holding back. Snarling, tensed up muscles, bristling pelt, panting breath. All ready to strike, let loose.

Unlike Finn, the images didn't seem to phase Baron that much, for all his innocence. And unlike Finn, he didn't merely stare back at Bray, he glared, and almost seemed like he was about to make a move against him when-

Tyler Breeze entered from the other end of the hall.

Bray and Baron both watched him, neither moving. Breeze blinked at them, then rolled his eyes, brushing by.

"You know, Corbin, unlike before, you're almost not the ugliest uggo around here. Almost." Breeze snickered as he passed. Baron didn't react, but Bray smiled even wider.

He pushed his fingers deeper into the skin of Baron's cheek, capturing his attention again. "He sure is pretty, huh?"

Baron's eyebrow twitched only slightly, but the wolf growled deep.

"Have fun, Baron." He smiled his widest now. Baron once again looked ready to take a shot, but lo and behold, from either ends of hallway this time they came. The Buzzards. His men. And that was enough to ward off even Baron Corbin. He left the way Tyler Breeze had just gone.

They sure were fun to have around, his men, sometimes.

And it sure was nice to help people.

Hideo.

Finn wanted to say it, but found his mouth didn't work all of a sudden. His arm stretched out, his hand clamping down on the curve between Hideo's neck and collarbone. Hideo froze, more surprised than threatened by his friend, his mouth hanging open slightly, the last word he had been saying to Finn hanging in the air.

Finn ran his thumb down the side of his neck, and swore he could feel goosebumps rise on the skin beneath his palm.

"Finn-" Hideo began again.

Finn's hand slid down to Hideo's shoulder, squeezing it, pushing, shoving, pinning Hideo to the wall behind him.

"What are you-"

Finn began to push down harder. And harder. He could feel the bones of Hideo's shoulder digging into the palm of his hand, could probably pick them out individually, and still he continued to press more and more of his body weight against him.

That was when it all became a blur, of red and black and white and creaking and cracking and snapping and Finn's nose burning and a feeling of release like he had never felt before.

It felt good.

It was broken by a choked out scream.

And this was when Finn, the usual Finn, the normal one, returned, awash with worry because he knew Hideo, Hideo was his best friend, Hideo was tough. Hideo didn't just scream like that over nothing.

He stood back, his arm falling to his side. He looked down. He was clammy, sweating all over, his body trembling and pale, even to him, but it wasn't the state of himself that concerned him.

Hideo had crumpled to the ground before him, clutching his shoulder. Everything about him screamed of immense pain - his heavy breathing, the way his body shook, his grunts and small moans and gritted teeth.

"Hideo..." Finn finally got the word out, reaching out a hand to touch him.

Hideo swore at him in Japanese.

And although Finn knew it was wrong, knew from the bottom of his heart and soul, he couldn't stop himself. He took that, and the sound of others frantically running towards them to see what had happened, as his cue to bolt and leave.

"What do you want?"

Tyler Breeze spun around on his heel to face Baron Corbin, who had been following only a few strides behind him through the hallways.

Breeze probably thought Baron would stop and respond to his confrontation, but he kept moving forward and, before Tyler could even take a step back from him, he had him by the shoulders and pinned to the wall.

Baron locked eyes with him, face unchanging, set in stone.

"Let go of me."

Tyler began to squirm, but Baron's grip was strong. Even for Baron.

"What the fuck is your pr-"

Baron cut him off by pushing against him harder, enough to elicit a small gasp of pain from Tyler. He looked like he had more to say, but his voice was caught up somewhere in his throat, probably along with his breath.

The dog had a way of doing that.

Tyler was left to watch, wide-eyed, as Baron leaned in towards his neck. Locks of blonde hair brushed past his eyes. His lips and nose just brushed over the skin of his neck. He was close enough to kiss him. He was close enough to bite him.

Tyler shivered and let out a choked breath.

Baron breathed in deeply, as much as he could, so deep it filled his chest and hurt his lungs.

"You smell..." He growled into Tyler's neck. "...good. Really fucking good." He exhaled as he spoke, his breath hot against Tyler's skin. Wolf's breath.

Baron leaned back again. Hands still on Tyler's shoulders, he stared at him, eyes half-lidded, glazed over. For a few moments, he seemed almost completely hypnotized. Tyler stared back, still unable to speak. His breathing was shaky, hiccupping - Baron's was deep, and heavy.

Then it was like the spell was broken. Baron stepped back, releasing Tyler's shoulders. Like nothing had ever happened, he slunk off, disappearing through the door they had both come through before.

He still watched Tyler on his way out, though. With eyes like the hunter stalking the prey.

It took Tyler a few moments, filled with only the sounds of his broken breathing, to awaken from his stupor, to blink and stumble back and slide to the ground, to take in what had just happened.

To try and shake the feeling of being the stalked.

Bray used to feel the itch. Used to feel it like they did. He used to try, like they did, to control it, and he used to fail like they did. Then he started doing these jobs for Abigail, started helping show others the way, helping them feed the monsters inside, helping them accept that they were these monsters. He showed them how to destroy; he showed them how to fuck; he showed them how to live.

He was like a God in that way, he supposed.

And Bray never felt the itch, these days.