Six months. That was how long Dean Ambrose had been in Connecticut. It was the longest he'd spent in any one place in all his nearly eighteen years, at least sleeping in the same bed every night, anyway. He'd lived in Cincinnati for the past two years, just moved around a lot. Technically he was born there, so the first three years of his life could be added to the most recent two for a grand total of five years in the same city. Still, he didn't remember them, so he didn't count them.

Six months suddenly felt far too long.

Dean felt restless. Not that he wasn't always restless, but today was worse than usual. During moments like these, especially when he was in the cafeteria, with its high ceilings and sardine like capacity, he concentrated on the former. Dean fidgeted taking a discrete deep breath, but the air felt stuffy, oppressive, and far too warm. He closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to relax his muscles, but they snapped opened when a bright light, a muzzle flash, he thought panicking a bit, lit up his eye lids.

"Sorry," a girl he thought was called Brie said, looking a bit sheepish holding a camera loosely in her grasp, when he glared at her, his heart pounding. "You looked serene."

Dean's only response was a growl, which made Brie shrink back a bit causing him a twinge of guilt. He was almost positive she meant no harm, but it sent his nerves on edge, bringing back memories he'd sooner forget completely. The urgent need to get away was overwhelming. Quickly, without a word or looking at her, Dean abruptly pushed back from the table. The clatter of his chair falling over drew the eyes of everyone around him, but he continued with his head down.

The brisk winds of early Spring and over cast sky didn't deter him from his impromptu escape. Weather only registered as far as whether or not it was would kill him anymore anyway. Connecticut's weather was similar to Cincinnati's and he'd certainly been out in worse for much longer than it took to get back to his Uncle's. His phone vibrating only irritated him farther, knowing it was probably his cousin, Charlotte, telling him to "stop being such a fucking spaz".

It only served to spur him on, he lengthened his stride.

Dean tapped his collar bone; a nervous tick he'd long been rid of- until his world had been turned upside down and he'd wound up here, with rich relatives he hadn't even known existed – as he reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket for his near empty pack of cigarettes. Dozens of sets of eyes continued to watch him as he shoved open the door; he ignored them.

Even as he strode across the parking lot towards his bike and breathed in the chilly air, he felt trapped, confined; like he just needed to go. With a slightly trembling hand he attempted to light his first cigarette of the day. It was a habit he hated to have, not because of the obvious "it'll kill you" reason, but because it made it feel like he was relying on something other than himself. The flame flickered out for the fourth time.

"Fuck!"

Dean threw his lighter down on the asphalt in frustration and it shattered.

"Fuck!"

Dean kicked the now completely useless lighter across the parking lot as he approached his bike, which was the one of the only things he'd brought with him from his old life. Dean loved his bike, so while the urge to kick that too was nearly overwhelming, he settled for leaning against it and running his hands roughly through his hair.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Dean alternating between tugging a bit harder than necessary on his hair and rubbing his eyes. It was better than the twitching. His reaction felt ridiculous and a bit extreme to him too, but it was as though everything was sort of piling up. The phone in his pocket vibrated again and without reading it he knew it was his cousin threatening him not to cut, therefore, ruin another one of her weekends. He wasn't exactly keen on spending another entire weekend with her either.

Uncle Rick wasn't a bad guy; not really. He cared, a lot, at least about Charlotte, and seemingly Dean too. When he'd shown up in Cincinnati out of the blue after Dean's mom was gone with tears in his eyes to bring Dean "home", claiming he never stopped looking for his sister or Dean, for that matter, Dean was suspicious. His mom always told them they had no family, it was just them, so he told the old man to fuck off when he opened his arms to embrace him.

Dean's mom had lied; at least according to the police. Dean did indeed have a family; at least an uncle and a cousin. He even had a fucking trust fund, his uncle had set up once Dean's grandparents had passed and he redoubled his efforts to find them. It was impossible, especially considering all the nights he'd gone hungry or without heat.

Still, at seventeen, Dean had no choice, even if he had been responsible for paying most of the bills since he was old enough to work, he wasn't an adult.

Uncle Rick had insisted on starting anew and most of Dean's things were discarded. Not that Dean had much to discard, or anything really worth saving, but he'd worked hard for what he did have. He would have told the old man to fuck off again, but as soon as his Uncle Rick caught sight of the photos his mom had set out on the end table he began crying.

It only got worse when he caught a glimpse of the blood splattered on the kitchen tile.

Apparently, it was Dean's responsibility, once the crime scene technicians were done, of course, to have the mess cleaned up. At least that was what the letter their sleazy landlord sent him a week after he'd moved said. Dean had no idea whether someone had cleaned up the mess yet or not. He'd just dropped the letter after reading and re-reading it in shock, before taking off. He never received another one so he assumed someone had taken care of it, though he didn't care enough to ask.

It was uncomfortable, but genuine, and it made Dean's eyes sting too, so he held his tongue. His mom had been a lot of things, but she was still his mom, and he missed her. Instead of admitting it or comforting the overwhelmed strange old man crying over his baby pictures, which was unsettling enough- no one had ever cared about him or his mom enough to look twice, let alone shed tears over their misfortunes- he began throwing things away. He only insisted on keeping his jacket and his bike.

His Uncle had readily agreed after apologizing for his insensitivity at breaking down when he should be the one offering comfort at such a time, but Dean shrugged him off, and only nodded when his Uncle promised to get him new parts for his bike to make up for it.

Dean wasn't wholly sure this strange turn of events was even real, or if he was going nuts after what happened, but he didn't want anyone's pity or concern. He hated people asking him how he was doing, or if he was okay. He was; he had to be. So, even if he was unsure about, well everything, he went with it. He didn't exactly have a choice.

Meeting Charlotte had eased some of his lingering suspicions, if only because that had been his mother's name too, but she was every bit the stuck up bitch he'd assumed she'd be. At least at first glance; when he'd taken it all at face value.

Dean's new home was nearly as big as his entire apartment building. It looked like one of those pre-colonial homes, but bigger, with a yard large enough for a couple full-sized football fields. It was beyond him what two people would need with so much space. He'd spent most of his life in one room or studio apartments, run-down motels when things got tight, or for a few nights, on the streets for one reason or another. That part didn't really make him mad, not really, the pity in his Uncle's eyes when he glanced at him nervously, however, did.

His anger and irritation only got worse when he entered the castle masquerading as a home, and he came face to face with Charlotte, who was standing with her hip and eye brow cocked, in a kitchen bigger than the entirety of his last apartment. She wasn't sneering at him, more so appraising him warily. He couldn't blame her really, because he was guilty of the same, and he had already been convinced she was going to be his worst nightmare.

It was actually oddly comforting and he found himself relieved at seeing no pity in her eyes.

"So, you're Orphan Annie," Charlotte finally said after a moment.

Dean saw his Uncle's eyes widen and his mouth open to chastised his daughter, but beat him to the punch.

"At your service," Dean replied mockingly with a deep bow. "Prince Charlie."

Charlotte looked nothing like a boy, even in her over-sized basketball sorts and large muscle shirt with hair pulled away from her face, but he remembered it annoyed his mom when people called her Charlie. His Uncles mouth snapped shut, and his eyes widened somehow farther, but as soon as Charlotte started forward it opened again.

"Okay, okay, that's enough of that," Uncle Rick stepped between them slightly nervous, but Dean swore he saw an amused glint in his cousin's eyes, and for some reason it made him have to fight a smirk. "It's been a long… day," his Uncle decided after an awkward pause before continuing quickly. "Dave, can you please show Dean to his suite?"

Dean saw the man, who looked more like a body guard than a butler nod, but ignored his "right this way," in favor of holding his cousin's eyes for another long moment. They'd come to an understanding of sorts and she gave him a faux bright smile.

"Night, night, Annie," Charlotte wiggled her fingers, her tone sweeter than he thought possible.

"A pleasant evening to you as well," Dean replied haughtily, bowing low, then smirked as he straightened up with a tip of his non-existent hat. "Charlie."

His cousin flipped him off, his Uncle Rick let out an exasperated sigh, but Dean smiled for the first time in what felt like forever once his back was turned.

That was six long months ago, and the easy, seemingly hostile relationship with his cousin was the only somewhat okay part of his new life. They had an odd kinship born of sarcasm and mutual experience with the whole "cover and not the book" thing. Charlotte was an All-American basketball player; ridiculously hard-working and talented as fuck, but obviously her success was due solely to her fathers. Dean appreciated the way she played the part too, even when it was with him. He actually preferred it that way, and none of it ever diminished her determination or work ethic.

Dean could appreciate that even more.

His Uncle wasn't not okay, but he was a bit aloof, and full of guilt and pity, so Dean avoided him mostly. It made him uncomfortable. The only thing good that came of any of that was it'd led his Uncle to keep his promise about the new parts for his bike. Probably the only truly good thing about his new life really; his bike ran better than it ever had.

Dean had the money in his pocket in the form of a credit card to buy a brand new one himself, if he wanted, but it made his Uncle happy to be able to give him the parts. Uncle Rick actually enjoyed handing them to him. He even sat and watched him work sometimes with a strange smile on his face. It wasn't all that awful, so Dean let him.

Besides, he didn't want a new bike, so the parts were nice, especially since no one bothered or questioned him when he was working.

Everything else wasn't as okay, though. School wasn't too hard, not the learning part, anyway. He was behind having missed quite a bit over the past few years; bills had to be paid. His mom hadn't been okay as she once was- tired she'd always said- so it fell on him. Still, he caught up, with Mr. Piper's help, sure, but he'd done it.

Almost everyone else just looked at him like he was some sort of alien. Some were in awe of his chevalier attitude, and "bad boy" reputation, which he wasn't too sure he'd earned. Still, even those people stayed away from him and eyed him side-ways, because most everyone else looked at him as though he was something they'd just scrapped off of their designer shoes. It was irritating, but he did his best to ignore it, promising himself he'd be out of there right after he graduated; something he never thought he'd be able to do.

Six months of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Dean ignored another pang of guilt as he made his decision with one final tug on his messy strawberry blonde hair, as well as the urge to pull his phone out and text Charlotte an apology. That would have to wait; after mid-night no one could make him do anything.

"Here man," a smooth deep voice that sent a shiver up his spine just as he was about to push away from his bike caused his head to jerk up.

Roman; Dean simply blinked at the ridiculously gorgeous guy standing in front of him, holding out a lighter, with a worried crease etched in his brow. Of course it was Roman. Dean narrowed his eyes mostly out of habit, but partially in irritation. Roman Reigns was the only person in this god-forsaken school that never looked at him like he was an alien or with the pity that surfaced once the rumors of why he'd suddenly turned up began to circulate. Dean still didn't know who was responsible for that, though he did know it wasn't Charlotte, which made it simultaneously easier and harder to handle.

He would miss her, if only a little.

Roman, who only ever smiled at him warmly, or glanced at him concernedly when he deemed it necessary, but never with pity. Roman, who always said good morning in homeroom, and good afternoon in study hall when he took the seat beside him. Roman; the one person who treated him like a human being at all times. The worst person for him to see once he'd made the decision to go.

"Just offering a light man," Roman reassured him nodding at the outstretched lighter.

Had it been anyone else, Dean would have probably found the automatic reassurance suspicious. Dean found a lot of things suspicious. It was part of his survival instincts; which had kept him alive thus far. He needed them, even in Suburban Hell, or especially in Suburban Hell. Dean hated to admit it, but his amazing survival instincts, the ones that had kept him alive thus far, told him he could trust Roman, told him it was okay to relax; if just a little.

Naturally, that threw him off; made him slightly more fidgety, which was embarrassing, especially when Roman caught him off guard.

"You don't smoke," was what came out when Dean realized Roman was waiting for a response.

"No," Roman chuckled a bit sheepishly, but Dean was too busy kicking himself to notice. "Does that mean you don't want it, then?"

"Yes, no, I mean- I just…" Dean trailed off flushing and wondered if his "bad boy" reputation would survive someone happening upon this bumbling conversation, but that suddenly didn't matter when Roman's smile widened, so Dean said the first thing that came to mind. "Why do you have a lighter?"

"Does it matter?" this time Dean noticed Roman's sheepish smile and swore his cheeks were flushing too.

Dean had no idea why, but it made him feel better.

"Guess not," Dean chuckled a little feeling more comfortable. "Thanks man."

Instead of handing over the lighter, Roman sparked it and held it out for him. There was a strange flutter in Dean's chest and while his inherent suspiciousness wanted to scowl, the rest of him was fighting a smile. It felt a bit weird, if he was being honest, but not in a bad way.

As Dean leaned forward he felt Roman's eyes on him and though it wasn't exactly an odd thing to do, Dean felt his face flush farther, when he cupped his hands around Roman's to hold the flame steady. Pushing away the shiver caused by the strange spark that accompanied the contact, Dean puffed quickly and pulled away as soon as his cigarette was partially lit.

"Thanks," Dean let out a stream of smoke as his eyes darted away from Roman, who he found watching him intently when he looked up.

"Anytime," Roman replied in a way that made Dean look up at him.

"What?" Dean snapped a bit feeling self-conscious at finding Roman's intense gaze again.

"Nothing," Roman said quickly, it was his turn to look away, but he looked back just as quickly, this time his eyes shone with unbridled worry. "I just- are you okay Dean?"

"What?" Dean wasn't really expecting that.

"Well," Roman scuffed his boot looking away again. "When you walked out, you looked… You're not leaving are you?"

"Leaving?" Dean's surprise was evident in his voice.

"Don't," Roman implored seriously after an extended silence.

When Dean had left the cafeteria he'd only meant to get away, not leave. He hadn't decided that until he was actually outside. Normally, he might've growled or laughed, maybe even offered up a threat, anything to defer the unease he was feeling, but the sincerity in Roman's eyes and voice threw him. They weren't friends or anything. Sure, he was probably the only person besides Charlotte, Dean acknowledged, but they weren't friends; not really.

"Why?"

"Don't," Roman's voice was firm in a way that made him feel like he was being given an order, which normally would have made him bristle, but the pleading that mixed with the worry in his eyes made Dean's chest feel funny. "Just- don't, okay?"

Dean held Roman's eyes for a long moment, looking for anything aside from what he'd already picked up on. There was no real reason for any of it; the worry and definitely not the pleading. It made him feel- weird. Not uncomfortable, which he would have accepted easily, but a mixture of suspicious disbelief, and, well, warmth. The last succeeded in making him feel a bit uncomfortable now though, and while he wasn't sure exactly why, he felt compelled to speak.

"Roman…" Dean started, but an irritated voice cut him off.

"Roman!"

Both Dean and Roman's heads snapped around and Dean had to suppress a growl when he caught sight of Seth Rollins. Seth was Roman's best friend as well as the prettiest boy Dean had ever seen. Hell, he was prettier than most girls Dean knew. Seth wasn't exactly mean to him, he mostly ignored him like everyone else, but Dean was certain he was Satan incarnate. Especially when Seth, followed by Kevin Owens, a guy Dean thought was called Daniel, and the twins, whose names he didn't remember, began to talk over him as though he wasn't there.

"What are you doing out here?" Seth questioned then continued in a firm voice without waiting for a response. "You're going to miss class, Roman, and you can't miss class, because we have a game tomorrow and you can't miss practice for detention."

"Aye, aye Captain," Roman was unconcerned with Seth's attitude. "I'm just talking to Dean. I wasn't going to miss class." Roman held up his hand suddenly looking very serious. "Scouts Honor."

Dean laughed, it surprised him too, but it was kind of funny seeing someone who looked like Roman so serious while referencing the Boy Scouts. Then suddenly he was picturing him in one of those goofy uniforms. It made him laugh harder.

"Boy Scouts," Dean was still chuckling a bit when he spoke. "That explains the lighter then."

Roman looked absolutely delighted for a moment then serious again, though Dean could see he was trying not to laugh too, while Seth scowled, the twins simply looked a bit confused, and Owens looked wholly unconcerned.

"Eagle Scout," Roman replied pompously, amusement sparking in his steel grey eyes. "Thank you very much."

"You think this is funny?" Seth questioned sharply over Dean's renewed laughter.

Suddenly Roman didn't look amused, but concerned.

"Seth, what…"

"I might be your best friend, Roman," Seth cut him off. "But I'm still the Captain of the baseball team, and you signed the contract. I won't feel bad if I have to…"

"Seth," Roman's voice was full of warning, which startled Dean a bit, though he didn't let it show.

"No, Roman," Seth didn't back down, but his voice lost some of its authority. "I won't let you."

"Let him what?" Dean couldn't stop himself when there was an extended pause and everyone looked a bit sheepish.

Dean felt his face flush, because he thought he knew what they were talking about. The way his heart sank out of nowhere made his face flush farther in anger. He was sure he should just walk away, leave, but he couldn't.

"Let him what, Rollins?"

"Dean…" Roman put a hand on his shoulder and the fact that Dean felt himself relax a bit made him swat it away all the more quickly.

"Let you what?" he turned on Roman.

"Don't play stupid, Ambrose," Seth cut in nastily. "You can do whatever you want, I don't care, but Roman's my best friend, and I won't let him. I'm also the Captain of the baseball team; I have a responsibility, so you can go peddle your drugs somewhere else."

"What?" Dean pulled up short, surprise unseating his anger for a moment.

Drugs?

"Seth that's not…" Roman's voice and eyes were pleading this time, but Seth cut him off again.

"Why the hell else would you be talking to him?"

Dean's momentary surprise and confusion were over shadowed by his renewed anger. Why else would Roman be talking to him? Of course, Roman didn't actually care, but the thought he'd come to him for drugs nearly made him sick.

"Drugs?" Dean managed looking at Roman for confirmation.

"Dean…" Roman said his name but was looking at Seth.

That made Dean's eyes sting, and that made him even angrier, especially when he turned to get on his bike, so he could get away like he planned, and Roman grabbed his arm.

"Don't," Roman's voice was full of command instead of pleading this time, and if it wasn't a natural instinct to protect himself, that would have been enough to elicit Dean's response.

Dean spun back around and shoved Roman away. He'd been stupid to think anyone actually saw him, especially someone like Roman. If he was being as honest, he was just as mad at himself, but Roman was the catalyst, and when he shoved him, he shoved him a bit hard. Roman's shocked expression as he landed on the asphalt barely registered before Dean was hit from behind. He stumbled into his bike, which tipped over.

By the time the second blow followed Dean was gone, and his survival instinct kicked in.

A/N: Hi guys! *waves excitedly* I've missed you. Real life and volatile muses have kept me away :-( I've decided to follow said volatile muses instead of trying to force anything, so this is what we get. Murder Mystery :-) Think "And Then There Were None", "Clue", "Party Games", and "Shutter Island" all rolled into one, lol. I don't know how long it's gonna be, but I have the first 6 chapters or so outlined. We'll see. I'm super stoked for this story and I hope you are too! Okay that's enough from me, lol, let me know what you think!