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12. I'll Run – Shawnter

Shawn winced as he felt the stinging pain radiate from his ribs when he finally built up enough strength to move from the bench and limp his way to the shower.

John had been rather rough on him tonight, relishing in the pain and humiliation he had caused Shawn on live television.

Reaching the shower Shawn turned on the faucet wanting nothing more than to wash away the used feeling of being someone else's property.

It was stupid going from the company's most loved star to taking a backseat as Layfield's lackey.

Shawn felt dirty working under John; the man had a way of making you feel lesser as a human being when he talked to you.

'More like talk down,' Shawn thought as he soaped his body.

Shawn had found out the hard way that the Devil did exist, and he had sold his soul to him. Yes, the Devil was a millionaire from Texas who rode in a limousine and refused to relinquish Shawn's contract.

Rinsing off Shawn stepped out of the shower grabbing for his towel. Drying his hair to the point of being only slightly damp he then wrapped the towel around his waist.

Moving slowly back to the bench Shawn reached for his duffel bag of clothes. Bent over searching for this jeans Shawn heard the unmistakable sound of cowboy boots clicking across the tiled floor.

Heart racing he felt himself tense on the spot as he refused to look up and face the man who now owned him.

"Who told you that you could shower boy?"

Shawn flinched at the question; he knew by the gruffness of John's voice that whatever answer he gave would be the wrong one.

Swallowing nervously Shawn turned his gaze upwards "I just though—"

John snarled stalking forward closing the gap between them. "And when did I ask what you thought?"

Shuddering Shawn closed his eyes hoping John would just calm down.

The slap came as a surprise.

Flesh stinging from the contact tears rose to Shawn's eyes.

"How dare you ignore me you little shit," John seethed. "If it weren't for me you'd be broke! A washed up s tar with no way to pay that mortgage of yours."

Shawn blinked away the tears mumbling a sorry.

John's eyes narrowed. "I own you understand that?"

Shawn averted his gaze as he nodded his head.

"Don't look away from me! I said do you understand," John roared.

Shawn opened his mouth to answer and was cut off by a back hand. Falling against the bench he grabbed his cheek looking up at John in shock.

"Understand," John ground out once more.

"Leave him along," came the even response of another from behind John.

John turned around a sneer firmly in place, "or what Helmsley?"

Hunter's expression was grim "I'll just have to make you."

John laughed "is that a threat?"

Hunter's eyes narrowed. "Consider it a promise," he spoke stepping forward to position himself between Shawn and John.

Bringing a hand up to caress Shawn's cheek Hunter whispered "hey you alright?"

Nodding gingerly Shawn attempted to blink away the tears that filled his eyes.

"He's not gonna hurt you again. I promise," Hunter spoke wrapping his arms around Shawn. "I'm gonna take care of you," he whispered tucking a strand of golden brown hair behind Shawn's ear.

"How cute, protecting you're little boyfriend," John sneered, "but you forget, I own his ass!"

Hunter whirled around to face John delivering a wild right hook that sent John crashing to the floor. "Not anymore, he's mine now," Hunter spoke firmly looking down at the Texan who was now sprawled across the floor grabbing his jaw in pain.

Grasping Shawn's hand in his Hunter locked eyes with the shorter man "and I'm gonna treat him right," he whispered.

Shawn smiled allowing himself to be led out of the locker room by Hunter.

The Devil may exist, but God had sent an angel to rescue him.