"So are you just gonna stare at me or at you gonna get up off the ground. There's no telling what's been through here." Dean offered a hand to her. She took it unsurely, but when his grip tightened she hauled herself up with his help.

She stared at him through her dark goggles. He looked around at the destruction that her and Sasha caused and chuckled. "Nicely done. Sorry about your partner. I caught the tail end of that fight."

Becky adjusted her bandana and ran a hand through her fiery hair, "Yeah, well it's just the adrenaline. She'll come around and apologize later."

He hummed he bent down to search the thug that had almost ended Becky's life. He pulled out the man's cellphone and called 911 using the emergency call function. He winked at her while he waited to be answered. She took that moment to study him further.

He was wearing a white wife beater under a dark leather jacket. The bullet hole was very visible on his chest, but the skin that peeked through looked completely untouched. He wore dark wash jeans and his face was uncovered save for his shaggy brown bangs that ran into his eyes. She heard him murmuring to the police the location of the warehouse and what they'd find there. He threw the phone on the ground and turned back to her fully.

"So you're Spitfire." He examined her and nodded, "I like the gear. Very cool, the goggles especially. Glad that you used the name that I gave you in my interview, makes me fanboy a tiny bit." He had a boyish grin peeking out and Becky couldn't help but smile back.

She let out an incredulous chuckle, "You a fanboy of me? You're the legendary vigilante here. Dean Ambrose, the indestructible man."

"I'm guessing that means you're a fan of me? I appreciate it, but I wasn't lying before. I like how you operate." He said walking closer to her, "But you just had a fight with your partner, sounds like you need a drink. Come on, my bar isn't that far from here. I can pick your brain a bit while we're there."

Becky's brain short-circuited, "You have a bar? You're a famous vigilante, and you have a bar?"

Dean shrugged, "I know how to pull strings to make sure it stays off the record. My face and name might be famous, but I can own a bar and hang out in it. All my regulars don't care and won't squeal about it. They won't even look twice at you coming in most likely."

Becky scoffed, "What makes you think I want to come to your bar in the first place? I had a fight with my partner, like you said, maybe I wanna go home and wait for her to get over herself."

"You're Irish so I figured you could use a drink."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "That's a stereotype." He raised an eyebrow at her and she sighed, "A true stereotype. Fine, let's go."

He held open the warehouse doors for her and she went through first. She let him lead her on a leisurely pace through some alleys before they got to a cross section. On the right there was s dimly lit sign that read: 'Cactus Jack's'. It flickered on and off in a warm red glow and Dean without waiting for her to admire the outside of the building was opening to door for her into the bar. She stepped through and looked around. It was dimly lit, but still had enough light that she could see through her tinted goggles. There were several middle-aged men sitting quietly in booths with a beer sat in front of them. They turned to look and some waved at Dean, but they didn't think it too weird that a fiery orange-haired girl with goggles and a bandana over her face was standing next to him. They were either really drunk, or Dean was right and this was just a chill dive bar.

He led her towards the bar, past several pictures of what looked like a younger Dean next to a hunched over and portly man. The older man had a beard in the photo and was grinning next to Dean who looked more relaxed than she had yet seen him. The old man had long hair and a wild grin. He had a couple missing teeth in his grin, but looked incredibly happy in his red and black flannel. There were several other decorations on the wall, but they all centered on that picture as well as one right next to it. It showed the same older man with a slightly younger Dean and a blonde woman who had her arms around both of them, smiling happily into the camera. She stowed away those people's faces for later, in case they came up, and moved with him towards the bar.

He pointed to a stool that she graciously took and sat on, after flipping the tail of her coat back so it wouldn't get caught under her. She looked behind the bar and was met with a smiling bearded man. He was around her age and had reddish short hair. Dean sat next to her and grunted. "Spitfire, meet Sami Zayn. My bartender."

She titled her head and reached a hand out to shake with the man. He took her hand before reaching for a glass on the bar, "What can I get you?"

Before she could say anything Dean interrupted, "I'll have my usual. She'll have a Guinness." Becky snapped her head over to him and glared. He must have been able to sense her anger as he held up his hands, "Too far?"

She didn't answer him and his Irish jokes, she simply turned to Sami to answer, "I'll have a Jack and Coke." Sami nodded before turning around and beginning to make their drinks. She turned to Dean who was staring at her with a tilted head and a pondering look. "No more Irish jokes?"

"Why are you doing this?"

She blinked, "Doing what?"

He leaned forward taking the drink that Sami had set down in front of him and cradling it in his hands, "Being a hero, or vigilante, or whatever they want to call it?"

Becky actually blanked at this. She hadn't really considered a reason for her doing this. She pulled her bandana down so she could drink from the glass set in front of her. She watched Sami move off to help other patrons as she pondered her answer. "I guess just the fact that I have an ability now, and to not use it to help people would be the same as committing the crime myself. Making the best out of the situation I found myself in."

She watched Dean nod, "Good. I was hoping your answer wasn't gonna be cause you like burning things or something stupid."

She chuckled, "It took me a couple days to even get it under control. I burned through several of my favorite shirts before I got a grip on it."

Dean laughed, "That's hilarious."

She took another sip of her drink, letting the pleasant burning sensation trickle down her throat. "Why did you take a bullet for me? I mean I get that bullets can't hurt you with the impenetrable skin and indestructability, but why do you even care?"

Dean sighed, "I care because I want to help people too. I care cause you and me have a similar goal. I care because I've seen what you are going through before and it doesn't always turn out pretty."

Becky furrowed her brow, "What do you mean? Fire powers?"

He shook his head, "No, you and your partner."

She tensed at the mention of Sasha, whom she was still angry at. "What about her?"

"I used to have partners. Two of them. It didn't end pretty for us, and the same warning signs are starting to show in her."

Becky remembered when Dean used to run around with two partners. They had been all over the news. The Shield. She knew one of them ended up joining the Sentinels. The other one had disappeared, and Dean had apparently opened or taken over this bar, and been dealing out street justice by himself.

"She cares about me. She wouldn't do that. She'll come around."

Dean sighed and glanced at her from over the rim of his glass, "I hope so, but you need to be prepared if she doesn't. You want to keep everything good by not killing unless it's a last resort. I respect that, but some people aren't like us, and they don't see that there's a line. Even within the line of black and white, where it's gray, there is a line. And to cross it means that you becomes shades and shades darker until you're almost as dark as the people you're trying to stop."

Becky felt chilled at his words and shivered. She gulped down the rest of her drink. "She'll see reason. She has to."

Dean patted her on the shoulder, saying nothing, waving his hand at Sami for some refills. He let the silence linger for a moment as Sami made their drinks again. "Stay as long as you like, Spitfire. When you're ready to go home, I'll walk you. After that, you're welcome back here anytime."

She nodded slowly, still thinking about what he said. He gave her one more pat on the back, "Drinks are on the house. Us heroes gotta stick together."

Sasha was still fuming. Those guys had crossed the line by trafficking children, and Becky thought they deserved mercy? Everyone on earth would agree with her actions. Those bastards deserved to suffer a bit for their actions. They wouldn't suffer enough in jail so Sasha was going to take the liberty herself. She had been walking through alleys for a half and hour now. She was tired, sore, and thirsty. She had already changed back into her spare street clothes in her duffle bag carrying it over her shoulder. It had Becky's spare clothes in it too so hopefully Becky wasn't angrier with her for taking it with her when she left. She'd been so angry, the blood had rushed in her ears and all she could see was red. She'd sprinted out of there and not looked back.

Now she finally came out of her alley stroll and decided to find a store that was still open. A store that would have some water for her. She passed by several darkened storefronts, before seeing one with a blinking open sign. It was a tattoo parlor. The sign read: Straight Edge Society Tattoos. She looked through the window and saw a small cooler sat by the front desk. It was filled with energy drinks, water, and soda. Not seeing any other store on the street she walked in, causing the bell to jingle. She went and crouched down by the cooler, letting her duffle bag fall beside her. She was so busy trying to pick a drink she didn't notice the man walk into the room.

"Well you aren't the usual drunks we get this time of night that get regrettable tattoos."

She jumped and whirled around. She came face to face with a heavily tattooed man. He had a lip ring and slicked back hair. He grinned at her, his tight T-shirt fitting pleasantly around his frame. His dark washed jeans sagged slightly and he gave her a small grin. "I'm Phil. What can I do for you?"

She gave him an apologetic smile, "Sasha. Sorry, no tattoos. I just wanted a water."

He chuckled, "No problem. I'm sure the dollar you spend will pay my electric bill."

Sasha glared at the man, but couldn't help the smile that ticked on her face. "If it makes you feel better, I'll pay two dollars for the water."

"It's like Christmas," he said dryly. He walked to the register and she handed him the two dollars. She took the water and took a big drink of it. She sighed and he leaned against the resister. "You look like you had a rough night."

She panicked for a quick second, hoping she didn't have any evidence on her that would point him to her being a vigilante. "You just look like you have something you're avoiding. Why else would you be out at this time of night, alone with a duffle bag? My first guess was a boyfriend fight, but you look like you'd be the one to do the kicking out. So if it's not that, then what is it?"

She sighed, giving him a small glare, "Why do you care? You get a lot of people spilling their guts to you?"

He looked heavily amused by her choice of words, "You'd be surprised."

She ran a hand through her hair. If she was going to tell anyone, it might as well be a stranger. "Me and my roommate got in a fight. We've been having them more frequently, and I just get so mad at her for not seeing things my way."

He hummed, "Well, first off you probably did the right thing by taking some time away from her. Gives you both a chance to cool down and approach it with a clearer head. Now, what was the fight about?"

Sasha scrambled for something that would explain their disagreement without incriminating her. "Well… so we want to buy our friend a gift each for her birthday. Thing is, my job pays more and I want to spend a lot on a gift that my friend really wants, but my roommate wants us to settle for a gift of equal worth. I agreed, but now I'm constantly mad at her cause I don't feel I did all I could do."

He eyed her suspiciously before sighing, "Well, personally, I agree with you. If you wanna do something nice for your friend you shouldn't hold back. But have you thought about it from her point of view? You have your own background that makes you who you are, but she doesn't have the same experience so of course she isn't gonna see things the exact same way. She's probably self conscious about how much she makes and is trying to do all she can for her friend too, but feels less because of what you can afford."

Sasha nodded. It made sense now that she thought about it. She hummed, "So what should I do?"

"Well first," He started, his eyes still staring holes into her, "If you said anything you regret, apologize. After that you have three options. You can be the bigger woman and lower yourself to your friend's level to save your friendship, you can try to sit down and explain your thinking to her, or you can do what you know is right and hope she comes around."

Sasha sighed, all those options sounded less than ideal. Talking her feelings out wasn't her strong suit, but he'd given her a starting place, so she was at least thankful for that. "I'll have to think about it. I'll definitely apologize though. I just kind of yelled and ran out. Ugh, I hate drama."

Phil grinned, "Drama ain't so bad. The wife and I live on it. Keeps things interesting. I wouldn't be as invested in her if she didn't threaten to stab me a few times."

Sasha looked him over, "You're insane." He shrugged good-naturedly. "But, you're good at listening to random strangers. I might buy an overpriced water from you again."

"I look forward to all the food you'll put on my table with that, Sasha. Now beat it, I'm closing up." He shooed her out, with her duffle bag and closed the door behind her.

She smiled. Maybe Phil wouldn't be just a stranger for much longer.