Shield One Shots (WWE)

Dark Souls

*Warning* A lot of dark stuff and triggering thoughts mentioned in this. Read at your own risk.

The idea for this came from KeithJohnson135. They suggested literally making Ambrose haunt Rollins.

Angry for dying in vain, Dean Ambrose is trapped between the light and the mortal world until he can be at peace in his afterlife. And in his mind, that won't be accomplished until the damaged soul of Seth Rollins is completely broken.

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"Come on," Seth said to himself, annoyed as he tried to shove his room key into the electronic lock once again.

It had been a long day and all he wanted to do was clean up and sleep for a few hours.The boss had kept him busy today trying to build up his endurance in the gym and it had completely worn him out. He felt like he could pass out on the floor right now he was so exhausted. After a few more tries, the door finally clicked open. He sighed in relief and walked into the room, tossing his bags to the side and throwing himself on the bed.

"Geez," he whispered, taking a deep breath. The softness of the mattress felt so good against his fingertips. The want to simply go to sleep was too tempting. He could always shower in the morning.

Seth rose from the bed and walked to the bathroom, grabbing a small bag of toiletries as he did. His head continued to pound as he attempted to comb the mess that was his hair. Once done, Seth quickly ran a toothbrush over his teeth and stripped down to his boxers, ignoring the faint noises coming from what he assumed to be the next room over. He turned off the bathroom light and practically collapsed on the bed. He pulled the bed sheets over his body and closed his eyes, ready to get some much needed shuteye.

An hour later, Seth abruptly awoke from his sleep, clutching the blanket to his chest with wide eyes. A nightmare had awoken him, and a lightless one at that. The images were so deep and Seth could feel small droplets of sweat forming on his forehead. After giving himself a small relapse to regain his senses, he tried to fall back asleep. He was met with the same results only twenty minutes later.

"I'm never gonna be able to get to sleep like this," Seth moaned to himself, burying his face in his pillow.

"Then stop trying."

Seth shot up from his bed at the voice. The raspy, sharp, edged voice that he'd heard so many times. He spoke into the inky darkness. "Who's there?"

"Come on Sethie, don't tell me you don't remember." The voice. It was. It was his voice. No, that was impossible. It had to be.

"Whoever you are, i-if this is some kind of sick joke-"

"Oh Seth," the voice kept getting closer until it felt like it was whispering in his ear. "You were always so naïve."

The Iowa native slowly turned his head to the right and gasped in shock, almost falling off the bed in the process as he saw a figure standing at his bedside. "D-Dean?"

The deceased Dean Ambrose smirked at Seth's trembling form. He was very pale, almost glowing, even in the blackness of the hotel room. His frame was tall and firm, the only pieces of clothing on his body being a faded grey shirt and a ripped pair of washed jeans, hands and left shoulder wrapped in blood stained, black wrist tape. His hair was still a cluttered mess and his eyes were a piercing blue, as if someone had replaced the color they once were with icy diamonds. He looked like a terrifying mixture between living and frozen.

"Miss me pretty boy?"

"No!" Seth yelled, still shaking at the sight of Ambrose. "This isn't possible! Y-You're dead!"