Disclaimer: If you think I own the WWE by now, you would be dreadfully wrong.

An hour or so later, there was still no sign of incoming rescue. "I spy…" Dean said, peering through the windshield, "Something white."

"Is it snow?" Seth asked. He was now sprawled haphazardly across the back seat, absently studying the ceiling of the car.

"How'd you guess?" Dean muttered.

"Well, that's really the only thing out there," Seth replied, shrugging.

"This game is stupid," Dean groaned. "Anything else you can think of?"

"I don't know," Seth sighed. "How's Roman?"

"Still breathing," Dean noted, checking the occupant of the passenger seat once again. "He's not looking any better, though."

Seth sat up suddenly. "I don't think it's a good idea to stay here," he declared. "If we do, Roman could…" He trailed off, not wanting to think of what could happen.

"What do you suggest we do?" Dean snapped. "There's nothing we can do for him right now."

"You can't possibly believe that," Seth protested. "There has to be something…"

"Would you wake up, Seth?" Dean barked. "We're stuck and we can't do anything to change that."

"Well, you can sit here and be useless," Seth retorted. "I'm going out to see if I can flag somebody down." With that, he swiftly exited the vehicle, briefly letting in an icy blast of wind.

"Nice job letting in the wind, idiot!" Dean shouted, even though he knew Seth couldn't hear him.

"Dean, stop calling Seth an idiot," Roman mumbled. "That's not how you treat your friends."

"Don't you remember? He's not my…" Dean began. He cut himself short when he glanced at his friend. "You're delirious. Right. Wonderful," he huffed, turning to glare out the window."

Slight movement in the side-view mirror caught Dean's eye. Upon closer inspection, he confirmed that it was only Seth pacing at the side of the road, keeping a sharp lookout for potential rescuers. He breathed a heavy sigh and looked back at Roman, who was dazedly staring out the windshield. "I'm only doing this because I don't want you dead," he clarified.

Uttering a short string of profanities under his breath, Dean left the car and trudged through the snowstorm to join Seth. "Nice weather we're having," he noted, sounding almost as if he weren't joking.

Seth jumped slightly and looked about wildly for the source of the sound. When he figured out who it was, he relaxed (if only slightly) and returned his attention to the yet-unplowed road. "What are you doing out here?" he enquired. "I thought you were going to keep an eye on Roman."

"I'm here to help watch for cars," Dean stated, squinting into the whirling blizzard. "You know how they say that two heads are better than one."

The two of them stood shivering in the snow for what seemed like a long time. "Am I hallucinating," Dean finally asked, "Or is that a light?"

Peering in the direction Dean was pointing, Seth said, "No, you're right. Either that or I'm hallucinating too."

Understandably excited over the prospect of rescue, the two men jumped about at the side of the road, waving their arms and shouting in the hope of flagging down the approaching driver. All at once, the light disappeared, presumably because the car had turned down a different street.

Disappointment settled heavily on the two former Shield members. "Well that's great," Dean grumbled.

"There'll be another one," Seth said, struggling to hold onto hope for the sake of his sanity. "Hopefully."

Some time later, Dean complained, "Man, I'm cold."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Seth snapped, "Huddle with you for warmth?"

"With you?" Dean growled, showing disgust at the mere notion. "Not a chance."

"You aren't still mad over what happened last year, are you?" Seth sighed.

"What do you think, Sherlock?" Dean retorted.

"Even you can't deny that both you and Roman have benefitted from that," Seth objected.

"Name one thing that's gone right for us since then," Dean ordered defiantly.

"I'll do you one better," Seth responded. "One, the two of you are more popular with the fans than before. Secondly, both of you have had major title shots in the past handful of months."

"Both of which you messed up," Dean observed.

"That's not the point," Seth noted. "The point is that all three of us are better off apart than we ever were together."

"Here we go again," Dean criticized. "You're the one not getting the point. Roman and I were both screwed over and you were part of it both times. I don't think that's a coincidence."

"I did what was best for all three of us," Seth retorted. "It just didn't exactly go as planned."

"That's easy for you to say," Dean growled, "You're the WWE World Heavyweight Champion."

"What if I said that Trips would have fired all three of us if I hadn't done what I did?" Seth blurted.

"Wait, what?" Dean asked, surprised by the sudden proclamation.

"You heard me," Seth snarled.

"So, you mean we were almost fired?" Dean questioned, quite shocked.

"He said that he needed to 'spice up the competition' in the WWE," Seth explained heatedly, making use of air quotes. "Things were getting 'too predictable'."

"What are you trying to say?" Dean queried skeptically.

"I didn't want to do it," Seth said, abruptly sounding quite upset. "But, unless I wanted to throw our careers out the window, I had to."

"That's…" Dean muttered, mentally searching for the correct word. He looked up suddenly at the road and, upon getting a good look at it, declared, "Truck."

Seth gave him a strange look. He, of all people, knew quite well that Dean was not usually one to shy away from foul language. "What are you…?" he began.

"No, seriously!" Dean cried, pointing at the road with a sense of urgency. "Truck!"

Indeed, a pickup truck was trundling along the road, a plow-like appendage attached to the front. "Yes!" the two men shouted, giving each other a high-five. The immediate aftermath was uncomfortable to say the least.

"Sorry, wasn't thinking," Seth apologized awkwardly.

"Right," Dean murmured just as uneasily.

In order to counteract the discomfort, they turned their attention to the driver, who had luckily spotted them and was slowing down. Seth walked up to the window when the vehicle had stopped and explained their situation while Dean went to wake Roman up.

Needless to say, Roman was rather uncooperative, since he was on the very fringe of consciousness. "C'mon, Roman," Dean growled, "Work with me." He wound up half-dragging his friend towards the idling truck. "Use your legs!" he snapped.

Suddenly, Seth popped up on Roman's other side and, without asking the Lunatic Fringe if he needed it, began to help. Dean looked at him, reasonably surprised, but he did not protest. With the two of them working together, it was much easier getting their barely conscious friend into the vehicle that would rescue them from the unforgiving cold.

It was difficult to be sure at that moment, but Seth was convinced that Dean whispered "Thanks" once everything was said and done.

I punched Writer's Block in the face today, guys. It felt great. :-D