Summary: Next part of the Ambush arc. I'm going to caution that this isn't very nice to Roman. So if you don't like that, don't read it.


This sucked.

Those assholes that Dean once foolishly called his brothers had actually taken him hostage. He couldn't believe this shit was really happening. But being bound to a chair and having his mouth taped shut proved that it was. Who the fuck took someone captive just because that person didn't want to listen to more bullshit and lies? Either they had lost their damn minds or they had spent way too much time watching crappy ass movies that led them to believe this was a good idea and that it was going to work out the way they wanted it to.

It wasn't and it wouldn't.

When he got free and he would, he was going to kill them. Not quickly or humanely either. No, he was gonna make the assholes suffer and scream in pain. He was pretty sure that it would be considered justifiable homicide since they were holding him against his will. But on the off chance it wouldn't fall into that category, he had no problem with offing them, waiting until dark then driving out to the desert and burying them someplace no one would ever find them.

There were plenty of good options for that.

After all, lots of people went missing in Vegas and were never found. They'd just be two more names on a long list that dated back to the beginning of the city. Sure, their names would be pretty big additions but it would just add to whole mystique of the town. Shirts, pins and hats proclaiming that this was were the two former champions were last known to be would bring a lot of needed revenue for the city. They could use it to pay to fix some of the damn potholes that drove him crazy.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and trained his eyes on his captors.

The moron twins were conversing, stealing nervous looks at him. They'd avert their gaze quickly when they saw him glaring at them. Ok, so he giving them the most vicious look that he could manage. He was mentally hoping that the expression if looks could kill would suddenly come to pass. If it did, it would save him a lot of time, effort and clean up.

Blood was a bitch to get out of carpeting.

Dumb and dumber finally broke their huddle, looking pleased with their stupid asses on whatever decision they came to.

Roman stepped forward, apparently being chosen to go first on this kamikaze mission. He took several deep breaths, his brown eyes locking on the burning blue gaze. "You've got to know that when I say that we're brothers, I mean it. No, it's not by blood. It's by choice but it's every bit as real and strong as a blood bond is."

Dean rolled his eyes, wishing he could scream bullshit.

But since he couldn't, the Samoan man continued. "I never meant for things to get so strained between us. I know that it's gonna sound like a lame excuse but everything with work was getting to me. Being around you, listening to the fans shower you with cheers, it just drove it home that no matter how hard the company tries, the fans are never gonna to come around to the notion of me being the chosen one. That the best I'll ever be able to hope for is a split reaction like Cena gets."

Again the dirty blonde rolled his eyes.

Yup, that was lame, like really fucking lame. Roman should be able to tune that bullshit out and focus on his job. It was also lame that it sounded like he was blaming Dean for the fact that the big dog couldn't get over and that he ditched him because of that. Like he had any power to change the way that people perceived others. Yeah, he was on the good side of the fans but he couldn't tell you how the fuck that happened let alone how to get them to react the same way.

"I was also afraid."

That confused the hell out of him. Which wasn't his fault because so far, this whole thing really didn't make a lot of sense. What did the other man have to be afraid of? Being booed? That Vince would dethrone him? Being demoted to the land of jobbers or released?

"I don't know what to do or how to handle it when you fixate on someone. You go to this dark, twisted place where you only care about hurting someone. It doesn't matter to you what it does to you or what it might cost you."

Wow, again with being blamed.

No wonder why people bitched about his promo's and how his interviews came off. The older man really did suck at this whole talking thing. Big time. Maybe he should give being mute a try for a while. Might work out a lot better for him in the long run. At the very least, the fans would probably appreciate it.

Maybe he'd help it along by crushing his larynx.

"And that terrifies me man because you should care. You're not on your own anymore, haven't been for a long time. There are people that care about you and don't want to see you go back down that road because you think you have to." The was a sigh. "You're so talented and charismatic. There's no need to rely on your flair of violence to get you to the top because you're already there and have been for a long time. Even when you didn't have the title, you were a champion in the eyes of the fans."

Jesus, this was starting to feel like some weird ass fucking intervention.

Just say no to standing up for yourself when a beast or an ego manic comes at you, to using violence to even up the odds. Forget street fights and cage matches. Resist the temptation of weapons and the urge to draw blood. Ignore the call of we want tables from the audience. Pretend that the part of you that thrives on all that destruction and chaos has no control over you anymore. That you're not as happy making someone bleed as you are to hoist that WWE Championship over your shoulder.

"I should have tried to talk to you about it but I knew how it would go. You'd just blow it off with a laugh like you always do with things you don't want to hear. Tell me that you'd be fine. So I distanced myself because I couldn't stand by idly as I watched you fall back into that trap."

Dean really wanted to scream. So he tried. But it was nothing more than a muffled, indiscernible sound thanks to the damn duct tape across his mouth. This was such a fucking crock of shit. Maybe if he jerked his head back fast enough that would make the chair topple over backwards into the wall and knock him out.

Being unconscious would be better than this.

"I never meant to abandon or hurt you." Roman's tone screamed regret. "And I'm really sorry because that's what ended up happening. You're my little bro and I hate not having you in my life."

Fuck, this was getting way too fucking hallmark moment for his taste. He tried to enact his plan to render himself unconscious but the damn thing didn't move. Fucking piece of shit chair! Any other time that he'd try this, he was willing to bet that the damn thing would hit the deck. But wasn't it just his shitty luck that the one time he needed it to do what he expected, it wouldn't.

Bitch ass traitor chair.

"I know that you probably don't believe me or trust me right now but I want the chance to prove to you that you can. That I am and will always be as committed to this brotherhood as the day we decided to become family. You ever need me and I will always be there, no matter what time or day or night it is."

Dean scoffed against the tape. What was he supposed to do? Be happy that despite his personality that the big dog was sticking with him? Tear up in relief? Tell him that he understood? That he was sorry that he was so hard to deal with and promise to be a good little boy from now on?

That wasn't going to happen any time soon.