Okay, so here we are in this series of requests and one-shots which I'm going to be updating once a week. Check back in every Monday to see what's happening and in the meantime I'll be writing and editing things up!

This first one is a suggestion from the lovely Skovko who wanted me to write about the crocodile farm case that I briefly mentioned in The Shield Reunited. Not only that but I've made it the guys first ever mission together so we're stepping into the time tunnel for this!

Enjoy!

The Shield Unscripted: Never Smile At A Crocodile

It was actually kind of a funny story really. Well, apart from the cluster fuck life or death bit.

A couple months earlier he'd been minding his own business – sitting at his desk, pretending to write reports up but actually making a kick ass paper plane – then suddenly there he was, his wrists shackled to a chain link which some bright spark had fastened with concrete to the ground.

Not funny ha ha perhaps, but still pretty humorous.

When had his life gone so far to hell?

A big paw reached out and tousled his hair roughly and in response Dean jerked his head back and snapped, his white teeth clicking together in warning like a cornered wild animal or a really rabid dog.

The owner of the hand – more beard than human – chuckled in delight and rocked back onto his heels. The man was hunkered down beside Dean at eye level but just far back enough to be well out of range. He was a broad guy – fat if Dean was being vicious – but not in a cheery sort of ho ho ho way. This dude was god damn criminally certifiable.

A dangerous, self-proclaimed godlike cult leader.

Oh yeah, with his very own crocodile farm.

Or alligators or whatever the hell the fucking things were, maybe a mixture, Dean wasn't too sure. All he knew was that he was shackled on his knees in front of them and in the very real position of becoming their lunch. In fact he could've sworn there was a big ass one eyeing him hungrily and putting an actual napkin on.

The hillbilly deity chuckled broadly, sensing his shudder,

"Beautiful ain't they?"

"Not the word I'd use, I prefer women. But different strokes for different folks 'an all that I guess."

His defiant little sentence was ever so slightly lessened by the fact he'd taken a beating or two, Bray Wyatt – said deity – sending in his lackeys to work their captive over once or twice. As a result, Dean's left cheek was slightly puffy and his lip had been nicely split on the right. It made his words a bit more slurry than he'd wanted them but he figured he was lucky that he could still even talk. If Bray's neolithic man mountain of an enforcer – Braun Strowman – had been given his way, then Dean would already have been a corpse.

"I like you boy," Wyatt grunted back at him, equal parts grudging and eerily amused, "You got fight. You got some moxie. Same we have to do what we're gonna do."

"Yeah," Dean deadpanned, "Can tell you're real cut up about it."

Bray grinned again,

"It's the way of the world."

Out in the grubby waters of the croc pond, one of the animals thrashed a restless tail, slamming it forcefully into another one until several of them were jostling in a splashing, bubbling froth. Droplets of the water spattered down onto the shoreline where Luke and Erick – more loyal lackeys – were standing with sticks to fend the beasts off. When they stepped back, the reptiles would be unleashed again and unfortunately for Dean, they would be unleashed on him.

How the fuck had it managed to come down to this?

Dean sucked a breath in and tried to think back.

Four months earlier he had been virtually non-existent. Just a regular beat cop doing his job. A no good kid from the very wrong side of the city who had defied all the obstacles and successfully joined the force.

Officer Ambrose.

He still got chills just hearing it. That in itself had been all he'd ever wanted but it had meant losing the few friends he'd had along the way. No one from his old neighbourhood had wanted to associate and Dean got it, he did.

The choice had been all his.

Which was why he hadn't been expecting much beyond that. He had never been a climb to the top kinda guy. For the most part he had figured on just flying beneath the radar and being good at what he did within the vague parameters of the law. Unorthodox was the style he favored in life mostly, which ran into his police work.

Which was – apparently – why he'd got the call.

"Ambrose?"

He'd known the Commissioner's voice instinctively, authoritative, sharp and just about shrill enough that it could serve as a siren if enemy bombs fell. He'd sat up straight at his desk on hearing it, his paper plane losing its tightly held folds,

"Uh, Commissioner – ma'am – y'know, boss lady."

It hadn't exactly been the most coherent start.

"I need to see you over in my office. You know the way?"

"Uh yeah – like, now?"

"Now Mr. Ambrose."

Then the phone had clicked down again and Dean had sat in a stunted half-silence.

"Shit."

He'd scrambled from his desk and lurched around several other officers, who had frowned but otherwise skittered out of his path. His wide blue eyes and sense of wild confusion successfully managing to clear the cop-strewn way. It had taken him a total of maybe seven minutes – or possibly less – to travel the few short streets, dodging traffic and bodies while deliberating what the hell the Commissioner could want and what in the world she could want from him. Naturally he assumed he had made an error somewhere – that he had misstepped and managed to do something wrong – which was why he was both relieved and bewildered to see that he wasn't the only one ominously summoned up.

Because when he had bounded panting into the office, it was to see that Seth Rollins and Roman Reigns were there as well.

Huh?

"Ah, good, Ambrose," Stephanie had nodded mildly, "Glad you could join us. Take a seat."

"Uh, I'd rather stand, you know, if that's okay or whatever?"

Stephanie had shrugged,

"Whichever you'd prefer."

Seth and Roman had glanced across briefly but their faces were both as uncertain as his. They all knew each other – they'd been at the academy – but they weren't exactly friends and they didn't work the same beats.

None of them had known why the fuck they were there.

It had certainly been interesting to see them however, especially Seth Rollins who'd been their class' golden boy. He had literally excelled at any training placed in front of them and had passed the course like a champion. Roman too. Reigns hadn't had Seth's continentally sized ego – or at least not as loudly – but he'd been good as well. A tall, self-assured, understated powerhouse who simply belonged there.

They were the opposites of Dean.

But Dean – as it had turned out – possessed something which they didn't, that Stephanie had summed up neatly,

"Street smarts."

The premise had been simple if not a little out there, she wanted them to team up and be her best men. A semi-secret taskforce that could operate without her and – if necessary – without the law. Seth and Roman had been natural choices but they had also needed a scruffy stray dog, someone who could fit in with the people they were after and not stick out.

Apparently, that had been him.

So now there he was, on their very first mission, trying to take down a growing and deadly cult. Out on the swampy fringes of the City, staked to the ground at a crocodile joint.

Suffice to say, things had taken a turn and not for the better.

"Wyatt, listen to me – ,"

"No little man," Bray shook his head at him, once again brushing thick fingers through Dean's curls.

Little Man?

Dean snorted. He'd give him little. You know, just as soon as he got free of the damn cuffs,

"You can't fuckin' do this – ,"

"Who says I can't? Hmm boy? You betrayed us. There are no second chances out here. Those who fail The Family get fed to my creatures. That's the way it has to be."

Down on his knees, his hands shackled in front of him, Dean again attempted to wiggle himself free, looking for give or any sort of weakness that might give him traction or propulsion.

There were none.

If he was honest then he was still ever so slightly sketchy on just how and why the whole thing had gone wrong. Although in essence it all boiled down to one person and that person was god damn Sister Abigail.

That wasn't her real name – her real name was Courtney – the former was just a cult name everyone got. It was a thing Bray did to try and take ownership. He gave them new identities. Dean was Brother Ben.

It was actually Sister Abigail – sorry, Courtney – who'd called them, wanting someone to take the cult down. She had stories and accounts of being sexually abused there, of witnessing criminality and murder. The whole thing. Evidently she had grown tired of Bray's wackiness and the sheer unpredictability of her life. The only way – she said – she could get any peace from it, would be to make sure Bray Wyatt was either locked up or dead.

That had been their plan.

She had got him in there.

But somewhere along the way, the worm had turned. Bray had said something, or promised her sweet nothings and Abigail had decided she kinda liked it where she was. Dean guessed he couldn't blame her being under his finger. Bray was disarming. She was powerless to help. What she hadn't needed to do however, at all, was share around the fact that he was a cop. He could've just slunk out and left through the backdoor – but no – she'd had to tell them the truth.

Fucking Abigail.

Dean tugged again, this time even harder but the chain links merely rattled and didn't remotely budge. Bray grinned back at him, wetting his lips eerily like he was actually hungered by it. Or turned on. Dean suppressed another little shudder and then shifted his position to kick out his leg. It missed the cult leader but still caught him unsuspecting and the big bulky frame very very briefly flinched.

"Moxie, so much moxie."

"You're makin' a mistake Bray," Dean choked out as a crocodile swum by them, dangerously near. Luke slapped the surface of the water with his paddle and it ducked down again but it was by no means gone for good.

"Oh really? Tell me. Why would that be?"

"Because I'm a cop, you gotta be fuckin' stupid to kill me. All that one for all, protect their own bullshit? Not just hot air. Trust me. We really think like that. You feed me to your pets and they'll be on you in a heartbeat. They'll never let up."

"That so?"

"Oh yeah. So if you kill me, you're signin' your own death warrant. Be smart, here? Think about it Bray. You can still let me out."

For a minute the bearded cult leader merely stood and blinked at him, almost like he was giving the idea some real thought. Stupidly Dean's heart began to lift up in creeping hopefulness but then Wyatt barked with laughter and threw back his head.

Dean slumped down a little.

What an asshole.

The guy was enjoying it – getting his rocks off.

"No Moxie, no boy, that isn't going to happen. Because after my babies eat you, they won't even know you were here. That's what they do – the crocs – they eat everything and what they don't want they bury deep in the mud. In about ten minutes you'll be nothing but stomach juice and me and my family will just smile and carry on."

Dean's whole body shuddered, he couldn't fucking help it,

"For Christ sakes Bray – ,"

"Too late boy, it's feeding time."

Stepping back away from his prisoner, the Wyatt man turned and threw his arms wide, standing, head tipped backwards like a wild religious martyr and drinking in the sunshine,

"Bray – ,"

"Let 'em loose."

His words were issued as a bellow of elation and in response to them the watching cult members cheered and whooped. In turn both Erick and Luke stumbled backwards, dropping the paddles they'd been brandishing like swords. The two of them seemed mightily keen to get out of there but oddly, Bray stayed in place, chuckling on the sand. As the first of the crocodiles lumbered from the water, he actually giggled like a child,

"There you are. Come on babies, it's time to fill your bellies. You'll like this one. He'll put up a fight."

If Dean had thought that the first croc was monstrous – with its haphazard limbs, narrowed eyes and dripping scales – then the second that blundered ungainly onto dry land nearly fucking killed him just looking at the thing. It was huge, like a dinosaur, a prehistoric throwback and as it stamped in towards him he could feel the ground shake.

Or maybe not.

Maybe that was him shaking.

But either way, the thing was still immense. On seeing it, Bray let out a wild chuckle but despite all the noise, the beasts seemed to ignore him, probably used to his crazy ass bluster or else knowing the chained down man was a much safer bet.

"That's it children, you go and you get him."

The first two plodded closer and Dean swallowed.

Oh shit.

His heart was in his throat, his palms were wet and sticky and his whole body buzzed with the weight of cold dread.

That was it, he was going to be eaten.

By a pack of hungry reptiles.

What a way to go.

The blood was rushing so hard around his system that he barely even heard the gunshots go off, only vaguely registering the shifting situation as the ground sprayed up in front of him and the crocodiles stopped.

Bang, bang, bang.

The sound hit him afterwards and as his ears began to clear again, he started to hear the screaming as well. Somewhere up behind him – on dry land behind the fencing – the members of the cult were fighting to disperse. Something or someone had them well and truly rattled and Dean guessed that someone was whoever had fired the shots.

He didn't really need to think on who that might be either.

He already knew.

It was Roman and Seth.

How he knew was something of a mystery, since the three of them were strangers for the most part. Sure they'd worked the case for getting close to two months now, but that was business. They hadn't been making friends. Or had they? How else would he have known they were there to get him? How else could he explain the breath that billowed from his chest?

His teammates were there – were on the war path – to save him and that brought a warmth which he couldn't quite express.

In front of him, the crocodiles were dickering uncertainly, having backed up a few steps and then stopped. The noise and the force of the bullets had clearly spooked them and so they stood, tails lashing as they swayed back and forth.

"Go," Bray yelled at them, waving his arms around but seemingly staying put, unlike his wider cult, "Get him, eat him, tear him apart boys."

Dean shivered again.

Don't move, don't move.

Behind him there seemed to be a scene of pandemonium, with cult members running and pushing and calling out. In the background too, Dean could hear incoming sirens and it was like they understood that their weird game was up. Somehow their all-gone-wrong shitstorm of a mission had actually managed to glean some results and although he was still on his knees in the croc pit, the thought they'd brought the group down very briefly perked him up.

"Dean?"

He twisted, Seth was calling out to him and as he squinted through the chain link, sure enough, there he was, the streak of blonde hair showing clearly behind the meshing and joined by more dark strands as Roman moved into view.

"Dean? You alright?"

"Not really," he called back, biting out the answer but stifling the duh.

"Hold on, okay?" Seth barked, "We'll get you outta there."

More crocs slid from the water,

"Yeah? Because you might wanna kinda speed that up."

With Dean's attentions still mostly on the water, he was only half watching as the pair opened the door up. Swinging open the well-used, rusty hinges that separated dry land from the fence-encircled pen. In actual fact it was more of an enclosure, with dry looking scrubland and the murky looking pool. Dean kind of guessed that it was heaven for a reptile, but when you were a cop it seemed a lot more like hell.

"We're coming babe," Roman called deeply and the undercover operative blinked a little.

Huh?

Babe?

In turning his head to frown in confusion, he suddenly caught sight of two figures ducked down low, hunkering in the overgrown roots of shrub bush and lying in wait,

"Hey guys, look out – ,"

At the exact same moment that Dean issued the warning, Luke and Erick burst out into the light, each of them zeroing in on a teammate and all four of them going down in separate flailing balls of limbs.

Crap.

It was certainly one hell of a rescue they were enacting, Dean thought bitterly as he tugged at his chains. With the hail of bullets seemingly behind them, the crocs were getting bolder again, tentatively shifting their clawed toes across the dry ground and locking eyes with him.

"Uh, guys?"

Not good.

A pair of feet stamped in closely behind him, but it wasn't Seth or Roman who were still locked in their fights. Dean could hear the fists flailing in the background – could hear the skin-on-knuckle driven painful moans and grunts – but what he didn't hear was which of them were winning and as he turned around to look, Bray roughly grabbed his head.

"No Moxie boy, you gotta look forward, you gotta face up to the means of your death."

"Fuck you – ," Dean spat, as the palms crushed his cheeks in, yanking round his neck until he was staring into the swamp. It seemed as though crocodiles were surfacing all over.

How many reptiles did the fucker even have?

Bray chuckled broadly as if reading his panic and then leaned in so close that Dean was scratched with beard growth. It was coarse, like wire wool and the feeling made him shudder, in fact, being touched by the guy in general made him flinch. Bray was just too weird for human contact. Like a child with no boundaries or awareness of social norms. But it wasn't just cluelessness, he revelled in his oddity. Essentially he just liked making folk freak.

That and feeding them alive to his reptiles.

Bray Wyatt was a very, very wildly fucked up man.

"Come on my children, make him pay, show him what happens when people take my family on."

It was debatable whether he even knew what was happening as behind him his followers ran for the hills. Either he had fallen into a pre-murderous trance state or else he was directing his frustrations down on Dean.

Still, it seemed strange.

His empire was in ruins and there he was with one single cop? Dean jerked his head back, prying it from the thick palms and trying again for reason,

"It's over man, we won, don't make this harder on yourself than y' need to."

Bray chuckled eerily,

"I'll enjoy watching them eat you."

As the shoreline began to fill with hungry reptiles – putting aside their wariness and clambering across the ground – Dean's last attempts at diplomacy failed him and he began to struggle wildly,

"Roman? Seth?"

It wasn't a good feeling to be yelling out desperately – to be honest it kind of hurt his devil may care feel – but at the same time he was in no small amount of danger and things were getting bleaker.

He needed their help.

"That's it now," Bray growled against him, the foul-smelling breath wafting over Dean's cheek, "Call for your friends so they can watch my babies shred you. They need to see. I want them to see."

The whole thing seemed hopeless – he wasn't getting out of this – but then suddenly there was a jolt as something hard hit Bray's back.

"Oof – ,"

In response to the assault, the cult leader staggered forward, tripping clean over the chains to Dean's wrists. When the captive looked up, it was to see Wyatt half-sprawled and face down in the dirt with Roman sitting on his back.

With a light sheen of sweat and his hair swinging wildly, the Big Dog looked kind of like some mythical god, his tribal tattoo glinting proudly in the pale light and his face curled up in a fury the younger man had never seen.

Despite the surprise, Bray Wyatt recovered artfully, flipping onto his back and almost bucking Roman off. Luckily the policeman launched onto his feet again but it didn't take long for the cult leader to bring him down. In the time it took to blink, they were rolling across the shoreline, swinging fists and getting dangerously close to plunging in.

All the while they scrapped, the crocs drew in closer and as one padded towards him, Dean kicked out a foot. It threw a wave of dirt across the reptile's eyeballs but the damn thing merely stopped and easily blinked it off. Undaunted it continued to waddle towards his boot heels and Dean let out a noise of alarm and scrabbled back.

Clink.

The rattle of the cuffs against the ground loop was startling as Dean reached the limits of how far he could go. His arms were stretched out at an angle in front of him and his head was hanging down almost brushing the dirt. Was it better or worse for them to start with his cranium or would it actually be preferable to sacrifice his legs?

Fortunately however, the question had no answer and nor did it need one as another shot rang out, burying into the ground before the creature and ricocheting up to glance clean off its head.

"Shit – ,"

In response the crocodile reared its great jaw up, shaking its skull as the agony seeped in. Blood spattered quickly in a grim arc around it and its thrashing promptly drew other reptiles in. For a very brief moment the animals seemed distracted which was the point that another pair of desperate feet ran in,

"Dean?" It was Seth, his eyes wide in astonishment as he dropped to his knees beside him and put down his gun, "What the hell is going on in this place?"

"They're gonna fuckin' eat me. What d'ya think?"

Despite his tones though, Dean's heart lifted, feeling semi-buoyant now that someone else was there. Not that he would exactly admit it but the hand on his shoulder felt comforting and safe.

"What happened to Luke and Erick?"

Seth frowned at him,

"Who the hell are they?"

"The guys that just took you down."

"Oh," Seth snorted, throwing a thumb across his shoulders and grinning a little, "They're sleeping things off. Never brawl with two cops on a mission. They learnt that the hard way."

Dean smirked back.

Well okay.

Reaching down Seth tested the chain links, frantically attempting to find any give. The growl he sent up wasn't reassuring and Dean confirmed his fears,

"Yeah, Bray's got the key."

In silence both men glanced across to the tussling but with the dust billowing around them, it was pretty hard to see. There was no way of knowing which brawler was winning, but having seen Roman at work on the wrestling mats back at the academy, Dean was pegging his desperate hopes on him.

"Of course he has," Seth sighed back wearily, before rising to his feet, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Dean rolled his eyes and was about to throw a barb at him – I'm chained to the ground moron – but it never left his mouth. Suddenly something wooden swung in from behind them and clubbed Seth on the head, half knocking him out.

"Hey – ," Dean barked, twisting in his shackles toward the angry figure holding the croc paddle aloft, "Oh you have got to be kiddin' me with this shit."

The figure was a woman.

It was fucking Abigail.

With Seth on the ground grumbling mildly in confusion, the brain-washed cult member raised the wooden oar again, clearly intending to break Seth's god damn skull with it, which Dean couldn't let happen.

He kicked his leg out.

It caught the woman on the shin beneath the kneecap and she stumbled off balance and crumbled down towards the floor. The paddle crashed with her but she was still holding tight to it and the second she got her balance she could strike with it again. Not only that but she was out of Dean's range now, so he did the one thing left to him.

He shouted and yelled,

"Seth. Get up – for fuck sakes get up man. She's gonna try again. God damn it. Seth get up."

The next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion as his younger teammate lifted his head off the ground. It was clear that he was concussed and bewildered and the fog cloud in his eyes made Dean's fingers twitch.

Huh, that was new.

He was feeling protective and not just on principle but in a hot instinctive rage. The thought of her hurting Seth was practically killing him and it struck Dean like a thunderbolt with just how strong that feeling was.

"He has to die – ," Abigail was murmuring, almost catatonic, "You all have to die."

"Hey," Dean barked as she slowly staggered upright, the oar swinging wildly, "Hey, leave him alone."

As the paddle hammered down, Dean almost squeezed his eyes shut. Almost but not entirely, which meant he just saw Seth's hand. It flashed out quickly right before the impact and caught the wooden handle before it buried in his head.

Christ.

In a sudden burst of consciousness, Seth was up and moving, grappling with Abigail as they fought for control. Seth was stronger – he should have been with all the CrossFit – but the woman was insane so it was a sort of close-run thing.

"Let go," Seth growled, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You all have to die."

Well, that was that then.

With a roar of aggression, Seth wrenched the paddle from her and swung it around to crack across the girl's head. It caught her on the crown and in a second she stopped moving, her body going still and then folding to the ground.

"Fuck," Seth puffed, quietly pressing against her neck line and then waiting for a beat, "It's okay, she's just knocked out."

"Uh, Seth?"

The crocodiles were once again massing and turning round briefly the policeman jumped,

"Oh crap."

"Kinda freaky, right?"

Somewhere to their side in a ball of bayou river dirt, Roman and Bray were still busy trading blows and Seth blew a breath out and pinched his eyes quickly,

"Dean, you just – ,"

"Stay here. I know."

To emphasis his point he rattled the chain links, but Seth didn't seem in any fit state to mind. His brow was drawn in tightly like he was fending off a headache and Dean felt his chest hitch.

The guy was not alright.

He resolved to make him go and see a doctor when or if they got out of this alive, although before he could voice his concerns on the matter, the younger man was up and away across the bank, leaving Dean with a gun and an unconscious women, not to mention a horde of reptiles still trying to creep in close.

As in really, really close in some cases and so shifting his position, Dean kicked the gun towards himself, using his boots to scrape it back across the ground and then grunting as he twisted his cuffs as far as they could go. It hurt – a lot – but he just about managed it and picked up the firearm with an audible grunt.

Now things were even, or, more even anyway.

He checked the gun's chamber.

There were just four rounds left.

Not enough to shoot all the ugly fuckers, but hopefully enough to keep them back a little more and figuring the blood of their brethren was distracting, he wrenched his wrists round, sucked a breath in and took aim.

Fuck it felt good to have something to do again, rather than just sit there and wait for a grizzly death.

The first bullet he fired off missed the mark dramatically but then again he was on his knees and beaten up. He'd been aiming for the big one but it whizzed across it earlobes. Wait, did crocodiles even have ears? Fortunately the loud cracking seemed to disarm them and the writhing mass of bodies briefly ground to a halt.

Well, the ones in front of him stopped moving but the ones from the side kept on plodding in, with one in particular zoning straight in on Abigail who was lying in an untidy heap on the sand.

"Damn it," Dean growled, twisting to face her and loosing off a bullet from the stock he barely had. This one at least thudded into its target, embedding with such accuracy that the reptile fell down dead. Even so, Dean was down to only two bullets and the prospect of dinner was drawing more teeth in. Where the hell had his fucking teammates gone?

"Seth," Dean bellowed, unable to hear their voices over the sirens and the screaming and the sound of his own heart, "Seth?"

As another crocodile climbed across the dead one and made towards Abigail, Dean fired off the penultimate round.

Shit.

He was down to one measly unhelpful little bullet but there were easily twenty crocs coming in fast. They had eyes on their lunch and the female accompaniment who Dean assumed they saw as some kind of dessert. There was no way he could hold them back for much longer.

He needed his teammates and he needed them fast.

Turning as far as the cuffs would allow him, Dean tried to look in the direction Seth had gone. There was a swirling mist of dry mud billowing on the bank sides and as Dean squinted towards it, he could make his colleagues out.

Roman was lying on the ground looking winded, with Bray stood over him and yelling out loud. He had one fist raised in the air which he was swinging, clearly intending to hammer it down. Seth was on his back like a bleach-streaked spider monkey but although he was trying he wasn't having much effect.

Dean's heart lurched.

The pair were in trouble, especially Roman who looked almost out of it. As Wyatt flipped Seth off and put him down heavily, Dean bit back a groan but couldn't disguise the curse.

"Shit."

Wrenching his wrists round, he angled the revolver, wincing against the pain but determined to help out. Bray was once again standing over Roman and the fucker was laughing.

Dean growled.

Not for long.

Drawing a breath in and centring his emotions, the policeman took aim and then fired the shot, holding his breath as the bullet drew a straight line, zinging through the dust cloud and into Bray's chest.

For a second, nothing much really seemed to happen and then very slowly the cult leader folded back, a wide-eyed and confused looking expression on his features and a smirk still on his lips.

How was that for a good shot?

Bray Wyatt was dead but the crocs were still moving and Dean was out of ammo and potential options.

Crap.

He couldn't die by being eaten alive by fucking crocodiles because sure it sounded cool but he would always be a joke. He would end up as the strange additional item in the papers or a gruesome folk story people told to their kids.

"Seth – ,"

"Calm down man, alright?"

As a pair of hands thumped down on his shoulders, Dean jolted up about a mile in the air.

"Fuck."

"It's just me."

Dean exhaled,

"Where – where's Roman?"

More footsteps plodded over and the Big Dog hunkered down, panting heavily,

"Right here."

"Got him good right?"

Roman grinned artfully, nodding a little,

"That was damn good shooting babe."

There it was again, that whole weird babe deal, although before he could question it Seth skittered back,

"Shit."

Several of the crocodiles had slunk in even closer and one was practically licking Dean's boot. Reaching across, Roman snatched up the paddle and cracked it in the centre of its scaly head,

"Move."

He was talking to Seth who was fumbling the cuff keys as Dean scrabbled backwards to stay away from the teeth. Seth's hands were shaking and he was swearing like a docker which wasn't helping things,

"Hey," Dean barked at him, "Relax."

For a second or two the younger man just blinked at him, like he couldn't begin to fathom the command but as the blue eyes zeroed in on him, Seth drew in a short breath and nodded in agreement.

Okay, be calm.

Glancing up Dean watched Roman wield the boat oar, doing a good job of keeping the beasts at bay. It helped that they seemed know what the thing was used for and so the more Roman swung it, the more they backed up. Still, with each second more bodies joined the scale pile and so as fast as Roman walloped, the crocs would lumber up.

"Seth – ," Roman started, sounding a little wary as the incoming tidal wave of reptiles took its toll,

"Hold on man," Seth bit back, "I'm coming."

There was a pause in the proceedings and then a very welcome click. At once one of the handcuffs dropped away from Dean's raw wrist and on seeing it Roman turned and came back across the sand.

"You ready to run as soon as he gets the other one?"

Dean winced a little,

"Got pins an' needles in my legs."

"Okay," Roman nodded, "It's okay, I'll carry you. Seth, you get Abigail."

Seth grunted,

"Sure thing."

In the background the horrible mass of reptiles was moving closer, in a rolling wave of green scales and wet slimy mud. They were almost on top of them, almost at the buffet and Dean pushed at Roman meekly,

"Go, get out."

"No way babe. We're not about to leave you. Appreciate the gesture though."

He actually smiled.

The first croc fang was almost on his boot tip but still his teammates sat fast where they were, the tension rising to unbearable levels before the beautiful sound of clicking again.

In the time it took to blink, his colleagues were moving, with Roman sweeping round him and hooking beneath his arms. He hauled Dean back as the closest reptile launched for him, dragging him across the ground and just out of range. Seth followed up by kicking it in the eyeball which was kind of weird thing.

He kicked a crocodile in the eye.

In the seconds it bought, Roman hefted Dean vertical and onto very wobbly feet, before ducking down in front of him until the smaller man tipped again, Dean's weakened body toppling over Roman's shoulders and then being hefted a little further up.

"What – ,"

"Don't worry babe," Roman grumbled, "I've got you."

The world was upside down but it was safe-feeling.

"Shit."

The shout – like nearly all of them – was issued from their youngest, as he gathered a still limp Abigail into his shaking arms. A croc was evidently closer than he had wanted but he managed to collect her without further harm.

"What're you waiting for man?" he yelled at Roman, blitzing straight past them, "Come on, let's go."

Then they turned and headed back towards the exit of the enclosure, with Dean bumping hard against his teammate's shoulder bones. Roman was grunting and moving kind of stiffly which meant he was hurt. Another one for the doctor's bed. It was weird to Dean how much the thought worried him. How jarring it was to have their Big Dog under par.

In the background the crocodiles were swarming round a carcass and it took him a second to realize it was Bray. He guessed in reality he should have been disgusted or somehow repulsed by it but he wasn't at all. In fact it was the least the asshole had coming.

Being eaten by his children.

The ultimate form of kismet.

By the time they reached safe ground and slammed the gate behind them, cops were practically swarming the place. Through his upside down vision, Dean could see the blue shapes everywhere but Roman kept going until they reached their surveillance van. It was a plain white thing, nothing special but it was safety and so flinging the doors open, Roman staggered inside. He dropped to his knees and Dean slithered off him until the pair of them were sitting against the metal side by side.

For a moment no one spoke, then Seth appeared in front of them, joining them on the floor having left Abigail with some cops.

"You okay?"

"Who, me?" Dean mumbled, going for humor, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well your lip's bust for a start, not to mention you're fucking covered with bruises. You look like a paint by numbers so don't tell us you're fine."

"So what? I'm beat up, at least I wasn't eaten. You might wanna check up on the Big Guy here though."

As Seth's eyes swung his way, Roman let out a grumble, waving an airy hand,

"Forget it, I'm good."

"Really?" Dean snorted, "So Bray didn't knock your ass out?"

"No he didn't, he just caught me by surprise."

"Sure he did."

"I mean it man."

"Well you were knocked out," Dean frowned just a little, looking up at Seth. Roman blinked in concern,

"When?"

"When god damn fuckin' Abigail took his head off with that paddle."

Seth waved a hand,

"Just stunned me is all."

In the very brief pause that followed his assertion, Roman grinned wryly,

"So to recap, we're all good?"

It was obvious they weren't but they were too proud to admit it, which was why Dean shrugged at him,

"Huh, looks like we are."

In response Roman chuckled and tousled his hair clumsily, the action catching Dean in measures of surprise.

What?

The Ambrose clan had never been affectionate and neither had the bulk of his crazy former friends. They had touched each other to razz or in teasing, or occasionally to bite one another when drunk. No one had ever ruffled his hair lovingly but that was what the bigger man had done without a thought.

Dean blinked.

Maybe he should have jerked his head away from it, like he had done when Bray had tried to touch his locks. But with Roman it was different and so the younger man just sat there, kind of enjoying it.

Maybe he was going soft?

On his other side, Seth slapped his kneecap gently then let his hand hang there. What was wrong with these guys? Then again he was the idiot who was sitting taking it and as the minutes drifted by he still didn't move.

"Crazy day, huh?" Seth offered eventually and Roman sighed, still kneading away at Dean's head,

"One for the books alright, wouldn't you say babe?"

Dean frowned mildly,

"What's with that whole deal?"

"What? You mean babe?"

Dean cleared his throat shortly, nodding just a little.

The kneading stopped.

Damn.

"It's just what I call the people I care about. I'll stop if you want me to – ,"

Dean shook his head,

"No. I mean, it's not like I mind it or anythin', it's just different."

Roman snorted,

"Says you."

"Hey, I'm a hell of a guy."

"A crazy guy maybe," Seth chipped in grinning and bumping shoulders with him,

"Well, you're partnered with me, so who's laughin' now?"

In the silence that fell between them Roman moved his hand back, using it this time to massage Dean's nape. The younger man sighed, making a tiny little happy noise and dropped his weary head back to slowly shut his eyes.

"Sure you're alright?" Seth asked him quietly and Dean grunted back,

"Told you, I'm fine."

He meant it as well, in more than just the literal sense.

In every way that mattered they were going to be fine.

Next Monday…

Stephanie gets an unwanted visitor and it's down to Dean to try and put things right. Throw in Seth in danger as well and you've got yourself a story!

See you then!