Disclaimer: I don't own any WWE wrestlers nor did I ever claim to do so.

Author's Notes: Yes you have seen this story before, I simply tweaked it and rewrote parts of it. I'm not a Bret Hart fan and never have been. It is now part of a series I'm working on.


Shawn Michaels winced as he managed to make his way to the couch in his living room after stumbling through the door, bottle of vodka in hand, he lay here staring at the ceiling feeling a sense of hopelessness, a sense of dread. He had done it; he'd managed to screw over the one person who meant more to him than anything else in the whole wide world, in the universe. Vince had told him that Bret would lose and so he did what the boss told him to do. He fucked over the man that he loved but for what he couldn't remember, there had to have been a reason for him doing what he did, he couldn't just be a horrible person…could he? No, why? A title? The disrespect? The boos? The hatred of the fans around him? Years of hatred that would most likely never be washed away, even if he died. What the hell had he done? How had he not realized the repercussions of his actions before he did them?

He took a swig from the bottle, the liquid burning his throat in a pleasurable manner, he hoped against hope that it would kill his pain; his back was killing him. How long did he have left as a wrestler? How long did he have left to live?

The secret that no one knew about was eating him alive, consuming him whole. But he couldn't tell anyone about it. He didn't want the pity of all the people that used to love him, he didn't need their sympathy, and he didn't deserve it after everything he had done to everyone. The people that used to respect him were now gone and he was left, a shell of a formerly great man, fantastic wrestler. It was all over now. And what did he have left to show? Some money and a title belt. Way to kiss ass Michaels, you really know how to alienate friends, good trait to have. He thought to himself.

Head pounding Shawn managed to sit up and reached into his pocket for a bottle of pills, he looked at them. Painkillers, they weren't killing his pain at all and they sure as hell weren't helping to get rid of the deadly tumor growing in his head, slowly reducing his brain's ability to function. He swallowed two and continued drinking his vodka hoping for the deadly mixture to kill him quickly, with a minimal amount of mess.

"You know, alcohol and pain killers don't mix Shawn," A deep voice said from behind him.

Shawn turned and fell off the couch. He squinted at the nearly seven foot tall man in front of him bathed in gold light, wearing all black. "Is that you god?" Definitely not what he had expected from the Holy Father.

Mark Calloway otherwise known as the Undertaker threw back his head and laughed. "No Shawn, I'm not god. I am however the closest thing to Him that you will find at the moment. I'm your guardian angel and I'm here to help you and take away your pain."

Suddenly completely sober Shawn managed to stumble to his feet gasping as he bumped into Mark. "You're here to take away my pain? Why couldn't you have stopped me from losing my soul mate? Why couldn't you have stopped me from losing Bret?" He asked desperation seeping into his voice with anger, something he hadn't felt in a long time, not since he had been diagnosed.

Chuckling Mark shook his head. "I'm taking away the tumor Shawn it wasn't meant for you it was merely a misplaced accident. Even in heaven accidents happen, you were meant to have it and you were, these things work in mysterious ways that I've never been able to understand so why should you. All things happen for a reason, don't worry child you have lost Bret but he's not your soul mate, there's another person in your future who will mean the most to you that anyone ever has." He bent and kissed Shawn's forehead. "You still have much to do and so do I, you'll remember this vaguely, you'll now know who I am but for the most part the past few months will have been merely a hallucination, no bad memories of chemotherapy or the tumor."

Shawn nodded. "Thank you Mark. Thank you for whatever it is you've done. I don't feel so bad now." He managed a smile.

"That's good and you are always welcome, just remember I'm always here watching over you, keeping you from doing anything stupid…well horribly stupid at least. Now don't forget to answer the door," He faded then disappeared entirely leaving Shawn standing in the center of his living room confused beyond belief. He needed to stop drinking.

"The door? What the fuck do you mean don't forget to answer the door? No one is even here." As soon as those words passed through his lips a knock sounded at the door and Shawn ran over and threw it open. Standing there in the pouring rain was his best friend Kevin Nash, his long blond hair stringy and wet, trembling in the coldness of the Texas storm. Shawn looked at him slightly spaced out.

Kevin studied Shawn worried. "Shawn? Shawn? Come back to me Shawn," He smiled as Shawn focused on him finally. "I came to see if you were okay. I mean what with Vince made you do and all, it was pretty harsh, I wanted to kick his ass for you but I don't much like the idea of being fired."

Nodding Shawn smiled. "Yeah I am okay for once Kevin. I feel at peace, it's nice. I like it, I mean, I do love Bret, but there's always someone else bound to enter my life in the future. I just can't let it get to me."

Confused Kevin allowed a nod. "Okay then," He gave Shawn a look like he was crazy or drugged. "You sure you're not on something buddy?"

Shawn giggled a little. "I'm fine Kevin, don't worry about me at all. Let's just say, someone else is looking after me besides the Kliq."

"Well okay then, I'm gonna get home because you probably need some time alone. Just don't forget about the barbecue we're hosting tomorrow night. Scott will be pissed if you do and you know it." Kevin gave him a quick hug and jogged next door to the house he shared with Scott Hall.

Shawn stared out into the rain for a little while with a small smile on his face before he shut the door and leant back against it. "Yeah things really will be okay, I mean it wouldn't be like an angel to lie." He spotted something on the floor and picked it up, a black feather. "Only you Mark, only you."

Kevin walked into his house and closed the door looking at the people gathered around his kitchen. "How is he?" Sean Waltman asked, concerned for his friend.

"He seemed to be in a pretty good mood actually, I think he's finally come to terms with the fact that him and Bret most likely wouldn't have worked out anyway." Kevin pecked Scott on the lips.

Scott nodded and turned to look at Mark who'd just come downstairs. "What the fuck took you so long in the bathroom man?"

Mark shrugged and grinned. "Sometimes you just gotta wait awhile." He joked. "I'm just kidding I forgot the one in the hall was broken so I had to use yours and Kev's." He sat down. "So how's Shawn?"

"He seems to be doing very well." Kevin replied.

Grin widening Mark nodded. "That's fabulous. So what are we going to do tonight?"

"Well I was thinking we could watch some movies." Sean suggested.

Scott and Kevin began talking about what they'd like to do, Mark sat back and watched the three interact and scratched his back wincing slightly. He had to stop leaving souvenirs behind.

THE END