A/N: I know I just put up a story yesterday, but, for some reason, I feel bound and determined to get this story up too before Night of Champions. I hope you all like it. Enjoy :)

To Ambrose, a bar was one of most peaceful places on earth. Sure, there were loud drunks and jukeboxes that blared decade old music, but there was also something solitary about a bar too. Have the right look on your face, a look that says: "if you say anything I'm going to knock you out," and you can get some quality, uninterrupted time to yourself. Needless to say, Dean had mastered that look. Thus, when someone sat down next to him on the cracked leather bar stool, there was no doubt in Dean's mind who would be brave enough to ignore his threatening look, and also, no doubt that he wanted nothing more than for that person to just go away.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked causally, not even bothering to glance over.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"What you do you care?"

Dean felt the shrug, their shoulders lightly brushing against one another causing a trill of comfort to course involuntarily up his spine...even now. "Come to finish the job Rollins?"

"Oh grow up Dean, you know that's not why I'm here," Seth replied in disgust.

"Well, I thought I knew a lot about you, but you've proven me wrong more than once..."

Choosing to ignore the last comment, Seth took a deep breath, deciding on a more level headed approach against the wounded Lunatic Fringe. "I just came to see why you have a death wish?"

"What're talking about?"

"Who else but a person with a death wish, would get their head curb stomped into cinder blocks, and then run away from the doctors right after?"

"Someone who is sick of playing games," Dean replied quietly, forcing Seth to strain to hear the soft words.

"Hey, I've told you more than once Dean, I've got no problem with us going our separate ways, but noooo, you have to keep sticking your nose in my business, where it doesn't belong."

"Huh, that's funny, I remember a time when your business was my business."

"True, but we're way past that now Ambrose. You have to move on already. Things are just going to worse for you if you don't."

"Why's that? Already planning what else you're going to stomp my head through?"

Seth restrained himself, forcing calm into his voice. "Believe it or not, I've been protecting you Dean."

Dean simply snorted in reply.

"Hey man, believe it or not, I don't care, but it's true. And pretty soon, if you keep coming back for me, The Authority is going to take the matter of exterminating you into their own hands, and then guess what? I can't do anything to stop them. They could rip you apart if they wanted to, and there'd be nothing I could do about it."

"'More heart than brains'," Dean mumbled to himself, pressing the beer bottle against his swollen forehead, sighing in pleasure as the cold dulled the pain, and the beer calmed his roaring headache...at least momentarily. He knew he really should have let the trainers look at him after having his head stomped on, but what further damage could a stomp really do to him anyway? He was the Lunatic Fringe after all, and he hadn't gotten that nickname by being normal...

"What are you talking about?" Seth asked in annoyance, breaking Dean's musing. Sometimes, Seth felt like he was talking to a child...

"I believe those were your words, were they not? 'More heart than brains?'"

"Yeah, and?"

"And I'm done playing games Rollins. You think you've seen heart? You haven't seen anything yet."

"Dean–" Seth started again.

"Don't 'Dean' me Rollins. In fact, don't even worry about me because you know something, it's actually you I feel sorry for, not me and this bump on my head."

"What? How can you possibly feel sorry for me?" Seth scoffed, picturing his golden briefcase tucked safely in the trunk of his rental car–a briefcase that all but ensured him the WWE title and a place in history.

"Because you've lost everything, and it's only a matter of time before your world comes crumbling down around you Rollins."

"Is that a threat Ambrose?"

"No, call it an observation. You turned your back on your brothers, two men who would have risked anything for you," Dean said, finally looking Rollins in the eye, "and all for what? Some stupid briefcase with some silly contract in it. Titles come and go Seth, but Rome and I, we would have always been there for you," Dean said, his voice low but full of heated passion. "And you know the worst part Rollins? Let's say you win the title. Yay for you. That just means you have to eventually lose it. Then, once you don't have a brief case or title to offer, you think The Authority is gonna want anything to do with you?"

Seth opened his mouth to answer, but closed it just as quickly, stunned.

Dean suddenly set his half empty bottle of beer on the bar and stood up on unsteady legs, placing his hand on his head for a moment. Seth fought every instinct in him that yelled at him to help Ambrose stay upright. Once steady on his feet, Ambrose bent close to Seth's ear, "Sometime Rollins, it's not so bad to have more heart than brains. At least I can live with myself." Before Seth could reply, Dean threw a twenty on the bar and walked away without a backwards glace.