Disclaimer: I don't own WWE, obviously.

AN: I've been working on this puppy since the middle of March...It's kind of like my baby at this point. I'm excited to see what people think.

Title is inspired by the Alan Moore quote before the chapter title. It fits in later, I promise. :)

Another AN: Thanks to Captain for being my beta for this fic. (I mean, I think she's only doing it so she can read it before I post it...Hmm...but either way, she's a fantastic editor and a great person to bounce ideas off of. I'm sorry so for killing your feels, Captain.)

Takes place during the November 2 RAW 2015 during the traditional 5 on 5 Survivor Series match of Team Rollins versus Team Reigns.

Machine. Unexpectedly, I'd invented a time

—Alan Moore

Prologue: Looks Familiar

November 2, 2015 9:55 P.M.

"Looks familiar, don't it?"

Roman Reigns rolled into the middle of the ring after being manhandled by Seth Rollins.

"Looks familiar, don't it?"

That nasally voice shouted again, and Roman covered his head with his arms.

"Look familiar don't it?" Seth screamed at the crowd again to a rising cacophony of jeers and boos. The Denver fans hurled insults and words of abuse at the former Architect of the Shield.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Seth raising the steel chair in the air before he began to climb up the steel steps.

Yes, yes, the situation did look very familiar. The residual stings and pangs in Roman's back felt familiar. The steel chair looked familiar. Even the bruised outline on Roman's torso looked and felt familiar.

However, the most familiar yet most foreign part of the situation was Seth.

Yes, Roman could recall every detail of June 2, 2014. Each second played like a high definition video, allowing Roman to see, hear, and feel every sensation from that night. It served as a painful reminder of what had happened in these last two years since his baby brother's betrayal.

The Seth Rollins standing before him now was not the Seth Rollins Roman knew.

A face wiped clean of any emotion, any empathy was not the face of his little brother, and the face he could see now - smiling at the pain he was inflicting on another person- was a far cry from the Seth Rollins of the Shield. The smile he saw on the champion's face was a genuinely false one, which was so different from the goofy grin the kid would wear when he or Dean would compliment him. It was distorted to a caricature of Seth's real smile: too big, too forced. The smile turned into a snarl before his face blanked completely, and he adopted the same face he wore on June 2, void of any form of empathy or remorse.

Seth charged into the ring, holding the chair like a lifeline as he readied himself to beat Roman again until the Samoan could not move. Before the World Heavyweight Champion could actually carry out his plan, Roman sprang to his feet, pulling his arm back and releasing it into a Superman Punch hitting Rollins.

For once the crowd was actually cheering on Roman even though ever since his Royal Rumble win, the WWE universe was more inclined to boo the Samoan. However, Seth's treacherous use of the steel chairs must have prompted the fans to cheer on Roman. Although, Roman knew this support would only last as long as the night.

Roman's momentum brought him to the ground. He watched Seth grab the belt and take off to the stage. Roman met Seth's gaze and the other man held up the title. Roman couldn't tell if he was trying to gloat and rub it in Roman's face or if he was reassuring himself of the fact he was indeed still champion.

After staring at his title, clutched tightly in his grasp did Seth look up and meet Roman's gaze. For a split second, Seth's eyes softened, and he looked like Roman remembered. However, the moment passed, and the look of desperation returned to those brown eyes. Quickly, Seth spun around on his heels and ran backstage.

A tapped up hand reached down to Roman, he blindly grasped it as Dean pulled him to his feet. Roman threw an arm around Dean's shoulder. He didn't need Dean's help to stand; rather, he just wanted to be close to his brother in this moment.

Dean had a tendency to be very perceptive and sense what Roman was thinking. The Lunatic Fringe pulled his brother into a hug.

"It's okay, Rome. You'll get the championship. One way or another," Dean said as he looked at the recently vacated spot where the champion had taken off from.

Roman sighed.

"I think you're supposed to say 'Believe that' right now or a simple 'I can and I will' would do the job."

Roman let out a surprised chuckle and ruffled up Dean's already messy curls. "Thanks for the tip, little brother."

Dean swatted away Roman's hand with a smirk. "Hey, what can I say? Along with my good looks and charm, I'm here to give solid advice."

Roman grinned. "And you do just that, Dean. You always have my back."

Dean smirked knowing full well Roman was right. "Course, I do. I'm always here for you, brother. Believe that!"

Roman couldn't help but groan at the Lunatic Fringe's use of his tagline. "Really Dean?"

Dean slide under the bottom rope and began the walk backstage with Roman following him. He threw a cheeky grin at his brother. "Is it my fault that's so catchy?"

The two Superstars made their way to the locker room they were sharing to shower and change.

"Dang it," Dean mumbled under his breath.

Roman looked up from where he was tying his shoe to see Dean examining his abdomen.

"Jeez Dean, that looks bad."

"Yeah," he agreed while prodding his abs. The skin was already blooming in ostentatious purples and reds. He poked a particularly bad looking welt and hissed in pain through his teeth. "But I've had worse. As long as I don't have to sew anything back on, we're good."

"Do you want to head back to the hotel? Get some rest?" Roman asked, concerned by how beaten up his best friend was.

"Nah, let's go to that bar like we planned. I could use some beer or maybe something stronger." Dean shrugged at Roman, like he couldn't care less about how sore he was or about the events in the ring earlier that night.

"You sure, man? It looks like you should just ice that and rest up."

"Nah, I'm good," Dean said as he pulled a T shirt over his head, hiding his torso from view and hiding the issue altogether.

It wasn't just that the Lunatic Fringe didn't want to talk about and expose his weakness, even if it were with the one person he trusted above everyone else. Well, maybe that was a large part of it.

Dean trusted Roman. Fact.

Dean considered Roman to be his brother, his only family. Fact.

However, Dean had been burned in the past by someone he considered to be his brother. Fact.

While Dean knew he could trust Roman, it was difficult to let himself be completely vulnerable. He also found it too painful to dwell on the Seth situation because Dean knew and understood how broken the betrayal had left him. If it hadn't been for Roman, Dean would've been reduced to a fragmented Jon Moxley mindset, more psycho than man.

As Dean straightened the bottom of his shirt and carefully pulled his black leather jacket on, he could tell Roman wanted to talk to him about the night's events. He knew what Roman was wondering about their little brother, Seth. Oh Seth…

Roman hesitated before saying, "About tonight and what happened with Seth…"

"Let's not talk about that, Uce." Dean grimaced and turned away from Roman to decidedly riffle through his duffel bag.

Dean would say it seemed like yesterday when he and Seth would just glance at each other out of the corners of their eyes before they would suicide dive between the ropes.

Perfect timing together as always.

Yes, Dean would be tempted to say it seemed like yesterday. He would be tempted to say his baby brother had survived through the betrayal and still was somewhere in the corporate sellout they were left with. He could say those things, but they would be lies. He knew it wasn't yesterday. His ribs felt bruised, his torso was sore, and his body ached, but most of all, he felt tired.

It was tempting to think, to hope his little brother was still in there somewhere and he would return to him and Roman, like the Prodigal Son returned home after his father feared him dead.

It was very tempting.

But Dean Ambrose didn't put much value on pipe dreams anymore. Being curbstomped into submission did a very effective job of quelling any hopes he had for his wayward, little brother. Oh yes, the Seth they knew and loved like a brother was dead long ago from the moment the chair swung.

Dean knew Roman wanted him to say their brother was still there somewhere. Roman wanted to hear Dean say they would get their Seth back eventually. Dean knew what Roman wanted to hear: reassurances, hopeful words, pipe dreams. In the past, Dean had no problem telling Roman what he wanted to hear to keep his hope alive. However, tonight Dean felt bruised, he felt sore, and he ached. But most of all, he felt tired.

You couldn't change the past no matter how hard you tried. Thinking anything different was just a waste of time. What's dead was dead, and unless someone had a monkey paw they were willing to lend them, Seth would remain an empty, soulless shell with Sell Out stamped across his heart.

Dean clapped Roman on the shoulder. "Come on, Rome. Let's go."

So this is the beginning. It picks up drastically next chapter. This is really just to set the scene. Tell me what you think. :D