Just a little something that I came up with while watching some stuff from FCW. My first time writing Dean Ambrose/Jon Moxley or William Regal for that matter so hopefully I at least did a passable job.

...

The cool night air nipped at William Regal through his clothes though he hardly felt it at all. All he was wearing was the suit he had been wearing during the NXT taping. He hadn't changed since leaving the arena and getting to his hotel for the night. He had meant to just go to sleep already since the office wanted him to work a house show the next day to help put over one of the young talents but he was much too restless to sleep. His thoughts were swirling around in his head and he was hoping a good walk around would help clear them. The streetlights illuminated his path; there was no moon out tonight because the clouds had covered it up. It was supposed to storm at some point though he had no idea when that would be. Hopefully it wouldn't be any time soon. He didn't fancy his suit getting wet in the slightest.

A car whizzed by him, the speakers blaring some god awful modern music that made the windows shake. He paused in his tracks and watched it go, his lips curling in disgust. Bloody kids. He honestly didn't understand this entire generation. Lazy brats were what they were really. He had seen a couple of exceptions to the rule but they were very few and very far between. He couldn't escape them for the most part. Not with being stuck on NXT and FCW. Sure there were more than a fair share on the roster that acted like children but it seemed like he dealt with ones even worse than that. It was maddening.

The sound of a trashcan being knocked over drew his attention over to his right. He was at the corner and the street he was looking down now was completely dark. No streetlights, no anything to illuminate the lonely stretch of road that had large building looming over it. At first he thought it was some hobo staggering around but then his eyes began to adjust to the darkness he was looking into, he started to recognize the figure in the darkness. It was an all too familiar figure; he could just make out the way it was pacing around like an animal locked inside a cage. "Dean?"

The figure froze in its track and Regal knew he was indeed right with that guess. He slid his hands into his pockets and waited to see what the volatile younger man would do. He didn't figure that he would have long to wait and he was right. Dean stepped out of the shadows, his eyes baring holes into Regal. He had clearly thrown on the first t-shirt and pair of jeans he found, which wasn't doing him much good with the wind that was starting to pick up. The chill didn't seem to bother him in the slightest though. Not that he was letting Regal see anyway. Regal tilted his head slightly to the side and just watched him, observing the way he moved from foot to foot, unable to stay still for longer than a second. Things were brewing in that brain of his, Regal was absolutely certain of that. He felt like he understood the man before him better than anyone else in the company did. From day one Dean had had his interest, though it wasn't just for his obvious talent in the ring. He had seen a kindred spirit in the boy. A fellow villain. The look in Dean's eye was one he was all too familiar with. It was one his children had been spared of but he still knew it when he saw it. Dean's though, was even darker than his and probably even more sinister. There was a tortured soul inside the boy. Nobody really knew a lot about Dean's past, though what bits and pieces they had heard pointed to a very unhappy one.

"Whattya doin' out here Regal?" Dean asked, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between them. "What do you want NOW Regal?" He started pacing, getting agitated when Regal didn't answer the very second the question had passed through his lips. "You come to take something else from me? Huh? Is that it? You already took my rematch from me now what do you want?"

"I never took that rematch away from you," Regal replied coolly. "It was never given to you yet therefore I couldn't take it away." The memory of their match was still very much etched in his mind, as it would be for the rest of his life. He had barely scraped by with the victory and now Dean wanted a rematch. A shot of redemption, as he called it. Since the first match though, Regal had deliberately shown no signs of giving into his demands for a second chance. In his heart, he knew that there was no way he could beat Dean again. He would be finished if they went at it again.

Dean chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes trying to burn holes right through Regal's soul. "Yes you did. You're denying me of what's mine." He finally stood still and pointed his finger into Regal's chest. "You take. That's all you people do. You take and you take and you take..." He moved his hand away from Regal and placed it over his own chest. "I thought you were just like me. But you're just like all of THEM."

"No my dear boy..." Regal shook his head, his eyes momentarily glancing upwards as he heard the sound of thunder. The wind was picking up even more; it was only going to be a short while before the storm really kicked in. "We are alike...though you're a lot more worse off than I ever was." Regal himself had always just been drawn to the darker side of things. He had the mind of a villain, which was why any attempts he made to walk on the straight and narrow never worked for very long. It just wasn't for him. As for Dean though, his mind clearly wasn't just one that naturally clicked towards the bad. He had been made. Warped into the damaged man he clearly was. A perfect storm of nature and nurture. Where one or the other began or ended was anyone's guess. Regal wasn't even sure if Dean knew that answer either. He probably didn't even care to know.

Dean smirked and opened his mouth to speak again when a raindrop fell on his face. He flinched in surprise before wiping it off and looking up as more drops fell. Regal was feeling them now too and he cringed as the thunder boom loudly and it began to completely pour. Bloody hell. this was exactly what he hadn't wanted. They were both drenched within a matter of moments but neither one of them made an effort to move to any shelter. They both just stood there looking at each other. Regal was partly expecting Dean to just attack him right then and there though he quickly realized that wouldn't be happening. As much as Dean probably wanted to do something to him, attacking him here in an empty street with nobody to witness it would be meaningless. They both knew he was capable of ending him but doing it now would prove nothing. It needed to be done where EVERYONE would see...where Regal could make no excuses...though maybe that wasn't what he wanted. It was hard to tell. The last time they had been face to face was at an FCW taping, where Dean had beaten James Bronson in a tap out match with Regal's own submission. Regal had looked him in the eye and hadn't just seen a man trying to send a message of what he was going to do to him in the future. He had seen a boy looking for approval. He didn't just want to destroy Regal; he wanted the acknowledgment that HE was better. He didn't want it from the fans. He wanted it from Regal himself.

Though, quite frankly, Regal wasn't willing to actually wager anything on that belief. Sometimes he felt like he understood the younger man completely and other times he felt like he was dealing with a force beyond all comprehension. There was something about him that just commanded attention and even when you thought you knew him he still found a way to surprise you. Regal actually found himself pitying anyone that would end up on the wrong end of his path.

"I'll see you around my dear boy." Regal started to turn on his heel to walk away when he was grabbed by the arm and turned back around. Dean had closed the distance between them and put his face barely an inch away from his.

"That's it?" Dean grabbed him by the collar and squeezed the fabric tightly. "That's it Regal? That's all you have to say to me?"

"What more can be said?" Regal asked calmly. "There's nothing I can do for you Dean. Not now."

"Give me my match."

"No."

"Why NOT?"

"You're acting like a child."

"So DO something about it!" That came out as a petulant demand and Dean leaned his head in even, expecting Regal to take a shot at him. Regal considered it for half a moment before raising his hand and resting it on the back of the younger man's neck. His skin was freezing to the touch from the rain and wind. He needed to get inside and warm back up though he still showed no sign of even feeling it. "DO it! DO IT REGAL! TAKE YOUR BEST SHOT!" He shook Regal a little bit, scowling angrily. "Take a shot. Come on. Take your BEST SHOT! Rip my heart out again Regal come ON!" His grip on Regal's collar was so tight that his knuckles were starting to turn white. "Take from me. Try it again. Come on. Just do it. Watch what happens." He didn't just want it to happen; he NEEDED Regal to try something. He needed him to be like everyone else that would take from him. To be like everyone that had hurt him.

Regal stood there, his body completely still as he just stared into Dean's eyes. "My dear boy, I'm not taking anything from you." He knew the words probably wouldn't have much effect on this mindset Ambrose was on. He had taken this as a very personal slight against him. He couldn't take the loss. His shoulder had been injured in the match yet still he had fought on, fought with every ounce of his being...and he needed more. He couldn't accept defeat and while the loss was eating away at him, the match was taking a toll on Regal himself. He knew he had only won one battle against the ticking time bomb. The war though, was a different story. "You really want to know what I'm doing?" He leaned in and put his mouth barely an inch away from Dean's ear. "I'm prolonging my reckoning."

That statement seemed to put a pause on Ambrose and Regal patted him on the back before kissing him on the cheek. "I'll be seeing you Sunshine." He backed away from the other man, not turning his back until the darkness shrouded Ambrose once more and even then he still kept walking backwards to the hotel...just in case.