Unnatural Love

BY : FlameWolf
Category: WWF/WWE > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 4423
Disclaimer: I don’t know and have never met Undertaker, Sting, Hulk Hogan, Mankind, Shawn Michaels, Triple H, Vince Mc Mahon, Jim Ross, Paul Bearer, Kane or C.M. Punk. This is fiction, for fun and no profit will be made from it.

Author’s Note:  I just wanna say Sting is a good guy...


Chapter Thirteen: Bad Memories


    Death and the smell of blood.  Yet, something about this place made him ill at ease.  He only had one reason to be down here.  Well, three if you wanted to get technical.  Chuckling softly, he got off his massive, black horse and made his way toward a hut by the Styx.  Reaching out a hand, he knocked on the black wood of the door and waited.  Within moments, it was opened to reveal a small, black haired boy around the age of seven.  “Uncle Aries!” he cried, rushing to hug the taller man around his leg.

    Chuckling, the god of war pet the child’s hair while his mother approached.  Her kind eyes seemed to look right into his soul, even as she pulled him into the house.  “It has been a long time,” she lamented, giving him a tight hug before moving to the living room.

    “Yeah, Hades hasn’t made it easy to get in here.  Its only gotten worse over time too,” the deity grumbled, a scowl on his painted face.

    Nodding, the woman took a seat on a couch, smiling when he sat beside her.  “Its partially my fault.  Archeron having a family was never in his vision.  Nor was Cerberus taking a liking to anyone.  I think he hates the sense of losing control,” she sighed, moving a lock of her ebony hair behind an ear.

    “He won’t even allow Zeus in anymore so I’m surprised you managed to get past the gate,” she observed with a slight laugh.

    “Let’s just say I have good friends in low places,” he responded with a wink, the implication making her shudder.

    Down here, there was only one being that over-rode Hades.  A being she would much rather avoid getting on the wrong side of.  Lucifer.  She had only seen him once.  An imposing man that wore a red and black mask and spoke little.  He had given off an air of authority and just a glance from him was enough to make anyone halt in their tracks.  “You went through him?!” she gasped, a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.

    “Of course!  He’s a good guy,” the man to her right assured, not helping her feel much better.

    Sighing, she shook her head and tried to quell her anxiety.  It was already done and there was no going back.  Still, something inside her felt uneasy knowing Lucifer was involved.  Hades hated to have his authority undermined.  If he found out about any of this, what would he do in retribution?  With how the deity had been acting, she was genuinely worried for her family.  “He’s not who I’m worried about.  Hades has gotten very strange over the years.  Almost as if he’s... jealous,” she murmured, brow furrowed slightly.

    Aries glanced down at her through his long, dark hair, comprehension dawning over his features.  “Maybe he is...,” he stated quietly, drawing a confused glance from his companion while her son played with his toys.

    “Persephone,” he stated simply.

    Just that name had her eyes going wide.  It was like a puzzle piece had clicked into place.  The woman Hades loved but was fated to spend limited time with.  A woman the Gods had seemed to conspire to take from him.  Zeus could have helped by making a nice spot in the Underworld for her to go to but he had refused.  He had stated simply that it was fate and nothing could stand in the way.  To add salt to the wound, she had even been refused Godhood.  Seeing her happy with Archeron while he was forced to suffer had to be extremely hard.  Yet, that really didn’t excuse his behavior.

    Sitting beside her, Aries turned his attention to the boy.  He already looked like his father but had his mother’s kind eyes.  Just seeing his innocence filled the man with apprehension.  In fact, the child reminded him why he was here.  “Celandine, you and your child should come with me,” he suggested, almost bordering on a command.  Something the brunette didn’t take kindly to.  Bristling, she got to her feet to glare down at him.

    “Why should we do that?  And without informing Archeron?” she snarled out, her furious aura coming close to making him cower.

    “Something is coming.  All of us can feel it.  I just... I want you two to be safe,” he explained, flinching back from her slightly.

    Growling, she shook her head before turning away from him.  “I can’t just leave the man I love behind.  Whatever danger there is, we will face it as a family,” she responded in a clipped tone, arms crossed over her chest.

    “Celandine... I just...,” he tried to explain.

    “I know you were trying to help Aries but I doubt it was for entirely selfless reasons,” she interrupted, looking at him over her shoulder.

    Their eyes met and he saw the knowledge in them.  His small acts of kindness, the way he allowed himself to relax.  None of that had slipped past the shrewd woman.  Eyes softening, she turned to face him fully.  “Aries... I know you love me and you want to protect me and my son but I refuse to be chased from my home,” she sighed, not surprised when he flushed under his facepaint.

    Rubbing the back of his head, he glanced over to the boy still obliviously playing.  “I just worry what Hades intends to do.  He hasn’t shown up to any of the meetings lately and refuses to speak with any of us.  He’s become... strange,” the deity whispered, brow furrowed.

    “I am aware but we will face the danger as a family,” she stated simply, ending the conversation with that sentence.




        Sitting up, Sting held his now throbbing head.  Had it been a dream?  It had seemed so real.  He could still smell the thick, coppery scent of blood in the air.  Looking over at the woman that now shared his bed, he couldn’t help but frown slightly.  The person in his dream had looked so much like her.  What did it mean?  Did it even mean anything at all?  Groaning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet.  Before he knew it, his body had carried him to the table ‘Taker’s urn sat on.

    Looking down at the unassuming, silver container, the wrestler found his hand heading toward it subconsciously.  Pulling the limb back, he pursed his lips.  Whatever this thing was, it was powerful and he found himself just a little frightened.  Was it the source of his odd dreams?  Dreams that felt more like memories?  Reaching for it, he pulled his hand back at the last second.  Instinctually, he feared the thing.  Yet, it called him like a moth to the flame.

    Frowning, he reached his hand out hesitantly.  Fingers shaking, he touched the cold surface.  Immediately, his body went stiff; an electrical current passing through him.  Along with it came more memories.  Until a familiar face coated with blood crossed his vision.  Yelling out a negation, he took a step back.  Yet it was too late.  He remembered.  He remembered and he did not want to.  Ancient, psychological wounds tore open and he sank to his knees with an anguished cry.

    In seconds, a pair of arms was wrapping around him but that did not matter.  Looking down at his shaking hands, he could see the ghost of blood on them.  Her blood.  The blood of her son.  The blood of even Archeron himself.  Howling out centuries of forgotten pain, the newborn Aries allowed himself to be pulled into the comfort of the woman beside him.  A female that was her soul returned.  “Celandine...,” husked out of him before he simply lost consciousness.

    Sam could only stare down at him, fear welling within her.  Her first instinct was to run for help but she really had no idea who she could trust besides Punk and ‘Taker.  And she only knew where to reliably find one of them.  It was a long trek with the possibility of being spotted and escorted to Vince for disobedience.  Still, what other choice was there?  So, gathering what courage she had, she went out the door and down the winding series of halls.

    After what seemed like an eternity, she found a set of stairs leading to a familiar dungeon-like area.  Hoping Kane wasn’t around or that he would just leave her alone, she made her way down the stairs.  As she neared the first door, she found herself subconsciously holding her breath as she crept by.  She had made it only a few steps past the door before she felt like she was being watched.  Turning her head, she saw Paul Bearer giving her a sickening grin.

    As she watched, he waddled his way up the stairs.  Likely on his way to tattle on her to his boss.  Sighing heavily, she continued her journey until she reached a steel door.  Just looking at it made her heart ache as she raised her hand to knock on the cold metal.  After a moment, it swung open to reveal her rather haggard lover.  Dark bags circled his eyes and he seemed more pale than usual.  The moment he saw her, his face lit up for a second before shifting to deep worry.  “Sting touched your urn,” she explained, the words telling him all he needed to know.

    Within seconds, the pair were moving; urgency speeding their steps.  “I’m sorry all of this is happening,” she murmured as they made their way to Sting’s chamber.  ‘Taker only shook his head in response, jaw tightening while he pulled open the door.  Striding toward the man on the floor, the Phenom knelt to examine him.  He was breathing.  Just in a deep state of unconsciousness.  Something to be expected given the fact his memories very likely returned.

    Scooping his rival into his arms, the Dead Man carried Sting to a couch and laid him down.  Then he was heading into the kitchen, rummaging around for a few moments before finding what he was seeking.  “Make him some strong coffee.  I’ll see If I can talk to someone about a meal,” the normally quiet male ordered before he was leaving to do just that.  Blinking, Sam began to do as she had been asked.




    He had been in many battles.  Been the cause of several more.  This was the first time the sight of carnage made him feel sick.  Collapsing to his knees, he was vaguely aware of his palms hitting the dirts while his stomach emptied itself.  None of this was helped by the thick smell of blood on the air.  He could even taste the odd coppery sweetness, bringing on another bout of heaving.  All the while, tears tracked their way down pale cheeks.

    In the dirt, like worthless heaps of steam were mangled bodies.  Bodies of a woman and a small child.  Bodies a silent Archeron was now standing over, unblinking.  It was as if the man could not reconcile what he was seeing with reality.  Then, without a word, the ferryman was lifting a long, black bladed dagger.  Before he could stop the other man, the undead male was plunging the weapon into his stomach and yanking it upward to his heart.  Within seconds, he was dead.  Joining what remained of his family.

    Closing his eyes in a vain effort to shut out the horrible scene, Aries struggled to his feet.  There was only one person he could think of that would do this.  Drawing in a breath, he called out the name.  “HADES!!” echoed through the caverns, stirring a three-headed hound.  Shaking its head, the beast rose, all memories of its time with the family gone.  All that was left was a strong bloodlust and a need to protect his territory.

    Letting out a booming bark, the guardian of the underworld strained against his chains.  Beside him, a tall man simply smiles in an unnerving manner.  “Easy boy.  This is a guest we have been expecting,” he soothed, stepping forward to answer the call.  As he walked out into the large, cavern-like entry, he was met halfway by Aries.  Red eyes glaring with grief driven madness, the God of War pulled back his fist and punched Hades square in the jaw.




    For a few seconds, he didn’t even realize he had woken up; arm still outstretched in a punching motion.  Blinking, he saw the expressionless face of  Undertaker and a horrified Samantha.  Eyes following the line of his arm, he saw his fist still touching the other man’s cheek.  Stomach dropping, he pulled back with a sincere apology.  Instead of seeming mad, the Phenom almost appeared curious.

    “What did you remember?” growled out of the undead warrior as the other man regained his bearings.  Blinking, Sting went pale as the images flashed through his mind.  Gripping his head, he pulled his knees up to his chest and began to shake.

    “I-I don’t want to...,” he began, only to have the other man grasp his face in roughened hands.

    For a moment, the pair locked eyes; ‘Taker seeming deadly serious.  “You have to!  No matter how painful.  We all have to remember who we were,” he snarled, releasing Sting as he got to his feet.  The man on the floor could only frown, his grip tightening on his legs.  Shuddering, the painted warrior finally gave a slow nod.  Then he launched into a lengthy explanation of everything he had experienced.

    As he finished, memories of his past life flooded back.  Memories of his horse, his house and his many exploits.  Before he had met Celandine, he had been a very wild person.  He had reveled in the heat of battle.  Had enjoyed spilling the blood of both allies and enemies.  The call of his sword had caused so many campaigns and he had fooled himself into thinking he was content.  Deep down, he knew it was all empty, that he was missing something.

    Getting to his feet, he felt his pride as a warrior come rushing back.  Along with this came realization and relief.  Yet, before he could embrace the reincarnation of the woman he loved, the former ferryman of the dead was shaking his head in warning.  Frowning slightly, he looked over to Sam to only see confusion.  At that moment, he knew she didn’t remember.  At least not yet.  Heart dropping, the awakened ‘Aries’ could only grimace as he restrained himself.  For her sake, he needed  to allow her to remember in her own time.

    Feeling confused, Sam watched the whole scene.  Somewhere, deep inside, her heart ached to hug the man now standing before her.  In some, indistinguishable way, he was different than before.  Almost more complete.  He also seemed oddly familiar.  Almost nostalgic for reasons that escaped her.  Nibbling her lower lip, she looked at the urn out of the corner of her eye.  Did it have anything to do with her past life?  Was he like Undertaker?  Was he a former God?

    Frowning, she fought off her urge to grab the urn and force herself to remember.  Right now, they didn’t need any more fainting spells.  Not to mention, Sting was still recovering from whatever he had seen.  So, with great reluctance, she headed over to the stunned warrior.  Wrapping her arms around him, she found herself oddly content.  Lulled by his frustratingly nostalgic scent.

    Unnoticed by her, the two men were meeting gazes.  Then their eyes moved in unison to the funerary container on the table.  Somehow, they had to get the others to remember without Vince noticing.  Somehow, they had to get the others to touch the urn.  Maybe then, they could finally be free.  Maybe then, the endless fights would stop.  Maybe they could finally experience the outside world.




    A figure paced a small but well furnished room.  A fain frown marred their brow as they moved.  They could sense it was getting close and they had no clue which way fate would fall.  This was an even that could end in either victory or death for them all.  No, more like total erasure from existence.  Grimacing, Punk ran a shaky hand through his short, dark hair.  After waiting all this time, he was still not ready.

    “Fuck, why’d it have to be now?” he hissed out loud, knowing full well it wouldn’t have mattered when this had happened.  No, what mattered now was his next course of action.  With his side already chosen, he simply had to apply the correct strategy.  This meant he would have to speak with Undertaker.  After all, the ‘Dead Man’ was likely the only other person to be awakened.

    Thankfully, the man seemed intelligent and fairly reasonable.  At least more reasonable now that his soulmate had been returned to him.  Shaking his head, he walked out of his room and through the halls.  In no time, he found the room he sought; raising a hand to knock.  Just as his knuckles were about to land on the steel, he heard someone clear their throat to his left.  Turning his head to look, he saw the grinning face of Paul Bearer.  “He left a while ago,” he informed, seeming all too satisfied to deliver bad news.

    Frowning, Punk straightened.  “Was Sam with him?” he asked, doubting he would get a straight answer.  In his mind, there was only one reason the ‘Phenom’ would leave his room at this point.  His suspicions were confirmed when the smile immediately left the fat man’s face.

    “Yes, as usual he was following behind her like a lost puppy,” he sneered, clear disgust coloring his tone.  That alone was enough to get C.M. moving again.

    Something had to have happened with Sting.  Could it be that the Icon had also awoken?  If that was the case, things were starting to happen even faster than he thought.  Practically running, the lithe warrior made his way to his destination; knocking hard on the door barring him entry.  The moment it entered, he made his way in; eyes landing on the lone man on the couch.  Just seeing him, told C.M. all he needed to know.  Sting had remembered.  He’d remembered all of it.  “Fuck,” hissed out of him before he could stop it.  Next thing he knew, ‘Taker was picking him up by his shirt and shoving him against the wall.

    “What do you know?  Who are you really?” the Dead Man snarled, his nose bare inches from the other man’s.

    Unperturbed, Punk simply lifted a brow.  “First off, I’m not an enemy.  Secondly, let me down,” he responded calmly.  Watching the scene, Sam silently walked up to ‘Taker as Sting got to his feet.  Slowly, the ‘Phenom’ released the wrestler, eyes narrowed with distrust.  Sighing, the slimmer male brushed himself off before clearing his throat.

    “My name before I was brought back to life was Loki,” he informed with a slight bow.

    With the suddenness of a striking snake, Undertaker was punching him; a snarl lifting his upper lip.  Staggering back from the blow, Punk rubbed his jaw with a rueful look.  “Yeah, I suppose I earned that for all the shit I used to pull,” he conceded, chuckling quietly.

    “Still, I need you all to trust me.  We aren’t the only ones like this.  All of the fighters here are former deities,” he continued, his words making Sting and ‘Taker glance at eachother.

    “The question is, are we just going to keep letting Vince abuse us,” he continued, a grim expression passing over his features.

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