John Cena: I told you I didn't feel like coming out tonight.

Dan Cena: Oh come on! You hardly ever go anywhere anymore Johnny. This is good for you. You'll be thanking me by the end of the night.

John Cena: Really? Because I have a feeling I'll be hating you even more than I already do by the end of the night.

Dan chose not to respond, watching as the bartender sat John's drinks down in front of him warily. Dan had been surprised that John had accepted not only his phone call but also his offer to take him out for some brotherly bonding considering he hadn't been returning Dan's calls or talking to him since the day he had arrived in St. Louis. Dan had been thinking somewhere along the lines of one of their old games of HORSE at the park or maybe just grab a bite to eat so they could talk but John had directed him to some seedy bar in a part of town Dan had not experienced since his arrival in the Gateway to the West. He wondered how his brother even knew about it considering this wasn't really John's scene either. The establishment didn't exactly seem the place for a nice sit down that was for sure. The odors of sweat, grease, smoke, and beer seemed to permeate through the air into one humid, heavy combination that surrounded Dan, filled his senses, and consumed him. This place was the very definition of a hole in the wall. Looking around Dan was glad he'd decided at the last minute to bring his backup gun in. This was the kind of place he feared he might end up having to use it and the weight of the Smith and Wesson, 908S, 9mm and holster against his ankle was reassuring. After another furtive glance around the large room Dan turned back to watch his brother make his Boilermaker into a depth charge, dropping the shot of whiskey straight into the large mug of beer, tilting his head back, and beginning to guzzle it all down in one straight, fluid motion. A worried expression crossed Dan's face as John sat down the large now-empty frosted mug. While Dan was still nursing his one, and most likely only, bottle of Sam Adams his brother had already had two Four Horsemen's, a Prairie Oyster, a Liquid Steak, and something he had called a Spicy Sandstorm. Dan was again thrown just as he had been the day before when he'd broken into his brother's house. For a man who never used to drink more than the occasional bottle or two and would have thought a Spicy Sandstorm was one of Spiderman's mortal enemies his brother was certainly proving to be an alcoholic's quick-study.

Dan Cena: Maybe you should slow it down a little bit there champ. I want to see if you're still as good at darts as you used to be and if you're sloshed it's not going to be as much fun beating you.

John Cena: I'm no one's champ and I said I'd come, I never said I'd participate. I just want to be left alone okay? You sit there, I sit here, we don't have to talk, we just drink.

Dan Cena: You mean I drink and you sit and pout right?

John Cena: Fuck off.

Dan Cena: We haven't exactly seen much of each other since I came to town. You sure you don't wanna talk or anything?

John Cena: I would, I really would, but I'm paralyzed with not caring very much. And I don't speak loser.

Dan Cena: Says the man drowning his sorrows in a place that probably has its own STD Weekly Special.

John shot Dan look of warning as the bartender approached John. Maybe Dan had gotten through to his brother the slightest bit because, in a small sign of victory, John simply requested a mug of "whatever was on draft" instead of anything stronger. The two brothers sat in a tense silence for a few minutes until the bartender returned with John's drink and John took a big gulp, grimacing at the taste of the unknown brand of beer.

John Cena: You know, there are quite a few beers that are highly underrated. This, unfortunately, is not one of them.

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the whiskey, maybe it had been the five shots of God only knew what (one of them even involved a raw egg!) but suddenly John began to talk, freely and without urging from Dan. Or maybe he'd just honestly forgot Dan was there or where he was, though Dan found this difficult to imagine considering the amount of smoke in the air. Then again... John was smoking now... As John spoke he kept his eyes trained on his beer, never once looking up. Every so often he paused, as if searching for the words. Or simply forcing himself to say them.

John Cena: If you had told me a year and a half ago that this would be my life I would have probably been torn between either laughing until I peed a little or backhanding you for branding me with such a fate. I had come back thinking... I thought... maybe I still had a chance to fix everything. I was so stupid. She had moved on, a long time before. I just... well you fight for what you love right? Only, idiot me was just a little too slow on the uptake. I was already behind the eight ball and had no idea. Because the thing is, the thing Dad failed to warn us, is that in a relationship it takes two people fighting to get back to one another for it to work. I made a fool of myself. I was the last person to realize she had given up our fight already. Because of him. Because she loves... him. I got arrested, there was that whole mess with the police and everything, and I didn't know where to go from there. After everything with Dad I couldn't go back home, Randy and I were still on shaky ground with the whole misunderstanding about Adam so that made things a little more difficult to talk to Nicole, I couldn't go to work because she was just... they were both just... everywhere. I couldn't seem to get my thoughts organized. It was like... walking in shadows or something. Then, about two weeks after the arrest something happened and... I haven't exactly been telling the whole truth to people Dan. Something has been going on, something has been happening, and I haven't really been doing....

I know you from somewhere. Have we met before? You just look so familiar. My name's Brittany. What's yours?

At the sound of the annoyingingly ill-timed voice both John and Dan looked up to see a woman that on first glance Dan thought was definitely a "lady of the night," abet a very good looking one, hell look at that, when she smiled she even had all her teeth, but still, a lady who had something to sell. Blonde hair, big blue-green eyes, pretty smile, lean body, yep she was without a doubt the best looking thing in the place... and she had her hand on John's shoulder and was looking at him like a hungry female praying mantis. Before Dan could find a nice way of sending her packing however, so hopefully John would pick up where he had left off, John was answering her with a tone that expressed neither interest or lack of it. He'd returned to his new norm of vapid.

John Cena: No, I think you have me confused with someone else.

Brittany: Are you sure? I could have sworn I have seen you somewhere before. Do you work in one of the clubs around here or something? You look like you could be a bouncer.

John Cena: No I'm not a bouncer and actually, I think I'm getting ready to be unemployed.

Brittany: Oh. Well... maybe you should try being a bouncer then. You definitely have the body for it. Would you like to come have a drink with me? This isn't exactly the place for a girl to be sitting around alone and all.

Dan Cena: Well maybe you should go on home then. My brother and I were actually in the middle of something and...

John Cena: Sure. What are you drinking?

Dan felt his jaw drop and watched as John ordered the woman's drink of choice. Then, still sitting in a stunned silence Dan watched as John began to walk off with the woman, not once even looking back at his brother. In fact, he seemed more than eager to get away. Maybe he realized he'd just about said more than he had wanted to. Dan couldn't say for sure but it was definitely the feeling he got because John certainly hadn't seemed at all interested in the woman. Turning in his bar stool Dan watched as John sat down at a table with the woman clear across the large, crowded room, angling himself slightly away from her and taking several more large gulps of his overrated beer while she looked to begin her attempt to initiate a mating ritual, hiking her skirt up higher and batting her eyelashes as she gently touched John's forearm. Dan rolled his eyes and sighed, vowing to try and keep and eye on his brother and let him have some mindless time without his meddling. Too bad he had no idea what repercussions this decision would have.

One hour later...

The world seemed to be spinning in a kaleidoscope of colors. It was hot and stuffy in the bar too, having grown more crowded in the past hour, and John wasn't feeling well. He had lost sight of his brother Dan approximately half and hour before in the sea of people, a throng seemingly having come in all at once. Practically sitting in his lap now the woman, whatever her name was, brought yet another shot of tequila to his lips. Dutifully John closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and tilted his head back, letting her pour the burning liquid into his mouth, already feeling her lips start to play at his neck just above the collar of his dark red Affliction t-shirt. He closed his eyes and gave in to the moment, allowing the darkness to take him yet again.

On the other side of the bar...

Dan had messed up. He'd taken his eyes of John for what had seemed like just a few moments but then when he'd looked back in the direction his brother had been sitting he could no longer see him at all. Worried Dan had stood up and begun searching the place, grimly realizing it was much larger than he'd first realized. He started with a perimeter search, keeping a wall at his left shoulder at all times with no success. Then he'd searched the interior of the room but had still come up empty handed. No John. He didn't even see that slutty girl he'd been with. Beginning to feel a knot of worry and dread settle in his gut Dan pulled out his cell and tried calling his brother. It went straight to voicemail and Dan muttered a slew of colorful words under his breath. Finally Dan simply went back to the bar hoping his brother would come looking for him there.

In the meantime...

Escaping the heat and acrid smells of inside John and Brittany, who had by now made her intentions blindingly clear, had moved to take their business outside via a small side door that lead to a narrow alley between the bar and another brick building. Her hands were reaching underneath his shirt as they kissed with a wild abandon. Her fingernails scraped sensually against his abs, enjoying the tactile feel of the rippled yet smooth muscle she found there. John reached one hand down to squeeze her smooth thigh and she immediately leaned agains the red brick wall of the building to wrap her long leg around his waist and pull him closer. His hand crept further up, feeling the warmth of her skin, his fingers reaching the gentle slope of her hip and butt underneath her short skirt as he continued to suck lightly on her collarbone and the nape of her neck. It had been a long time. She moaned, urging his exploration onward and his hands cupped one of her cheeks possessively as she too continued her investigation of his body, reaching underneath his t-shirt and jeans in an increasingly brazen manner. She began to grope impatiently at the black belt around his waist, working her fingers to try and undo the buckle. John made no move to help her instead pressing himself even closer to her, forcing her back against the cool, rough surface of the building and sandwiching her between him and the wall so hard her head bounced off the brick with a dull thud. He smothered her protest of pain roughly with his lips, his eyes shut as his hands found her small wrists and brought them together in his one, much bigger, left hand over her head. Then, as his lips left hers for a moment he whispered one name and instantly she was pulling her face away from him angrily.

Brittany: Brittany.

John seemed unfazed as he started to nibble at her ear, as if he wasn't registering her complaint.

John Cena: What?

Brittany: My name. It's Brittany. Not Jessica. You've called me that several times now. What's wrong with you? Are you stupid or something?

Instantly John was pulling away at the word "stupid." If Brittany had one shred of situational awareness she wouldn't have said what she did next.

Brittany: I mean you're hot and all but how many times do I have to tell you? And why are you looking at me like that? Fuckin crazy... wha... GET AWAY FROM ME!

John had immediately tightened his grip on her wrists at the word "crazy" and forced his entire weight against her, pressing her painfully hard up against the alley wall.

Brittany: What are you... Please... don't...

She started to scream but immediately John's right hand came up and his fingers encircled her neck, squeezing just enough to stifle her. Hot tears began to pour from her eyes and she was shaking with terror as John brought his face within centimeters of her own, breathing hard and with a deranged look on his face. Was he crazy? At this point it was pretty safe to say it seemed that way but John's reasoning skills hadn't exactly been up to par these past few months and in that moment all he felt was a drunken rage and the urge to hurt someone or something. Still, as he looked into her huge, fearful eyes something about the moment seemed to grasp something still in him and he suddenly released his hold on her, stepping back to the other side of the narrow back street and watching as she immediately ran between the two buildings to the narrow opening leading out onto the street. John stood still for several minutes, still breathing hard, a blank stare on his face, before walking back through the small side door and into the bar. Moving quickly he headed toward the bar area he had previously been sitting at with Dan, finding his younger brother sitting there with a concerned expression on his face as he saw John approaching. Immediately Dan was on his feet, sensing something was up.

Dan Cena: Are you okay? What...

John Cena: Let's go. Let's just get out of here.

Something in John's tone and in his face told Dan not to question this and he nodded. John quickly paid for their drinks and the two men left the bar without any second glances. The parking lot was almost as bad as the bar as far as the number of drunk people staggering about and it was two of these said individuals that suddenly made the night go from bad to much, much worse. Dan and John had just reached the Cadillac when suddenly John was doused from behind by a full plastic cup of beer suddenly being thrown from behind. A voice rang out followed by a chorus of laughter.

HEY CENA YOU SUCK! YOU'RE GONNA GET YOUR ASS HANDED TO YOU BY PUNK ON SUNDAY!

John's top half was drenched in sticky beer and before Dan could so much as move a muscle John had turned with a gutteral growl in the direction that both the beer and the voice had come from. One car over from where Dan had parked the Caddy two men who looked to be in their late twenties to early thirties stood, still laughing and high-fiving one another drunkenly. Dan had seen John's face through the windows and already he was running around the front of the vehicle but he wasn't able to reach his destination fast enough because as soon as John saw where the laughter was coming from he bolted, sliding across the hood of the car separating him from the two drunken parking lot punks on is hip and before his feet had even touched the ground he was swinging. The one shorter, chubbier man went down and stayed there. The second, taller man with longish stringy black hair and a goatee had taken his first punch in the gut and as he doubled over in pain John grabbed him by the back of the neck and smashed his head into the driver's side window of the nearby car. Pulling the man back out of the window John tossed him onto the hood of the car like a rag doll as Dan reached his side and attempted to stop his brother by yanking him back but a glancing blow from John's elbow to side of the face took Dan off his feet, more from loss of balance than the imapact. John climbed on top of the car and began raining lefts and rights to man's gushing face, the slapping sound of bone hitting raw meat sickeningly filling the air with each imact of face and knuckle. Then from behind John felt something cold, small, and round press firmly against the back of his neck and a stern, authoritative voice rang out into the night air.

FREEZE! ST. LOUIS PD! PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND STEP OFF THE VEHICLE. NOW!

Slowly John complied, the voice somehow registering in his brain despite the high, piercing hum that had seemed to fill his head from the moment the first drop of beer had touched his skin. Behind him Dan pressed the muzzled of the 9mm hard into his brother's neck, shooting a quick glance at the dozen or so onlookers before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet, flashing the badge for all to see as he shouted out at them, his tone professional and expertly firm.

Dan Cena: It's okay everyone, I'm street crimes, undercover. Nothing to see here. Just go on inside. The less people we have out here the better. Just stay near the bar at the front and I, or one of my collegues, will be inside shortly to take your statements.

As people began to slowly trickly inside Dan kept going through the motions, as if this were just another call and just another pointless parking lot brawl and not a mess his brother had made for him to have to clean up as quietly and smoothly as possible. The youngest Cena was very relieved to see that no one had pulled out cell phone or any other device that looked to be recording any of the events. Maybe they hadn't realized in the darkness just who the assailant had been. Wes Ikeda would never know about this but Dan knew if he had his brother's boss and former friend would have been anything but happy about having to clean up another one of John Cena's recent screw ups. Dan spoke loudly in case the few remaining witnesses were still listening.

Dan Cena: Down! On the ground! On your stomach! Keep your hands where I can see them!

Dan was glad to see that probably for the first time in months John wasn't arguing or fighting back. He did as his brother ordered and as soon as John was on his stomach on the hard asphalt Dan stuck his gun, loaded but with the safety still on, in the waistband of his jeans, reaching to grab both of John's wrists and bringing them around to the small of his brother's back, as if to handcuff him. All the while Dan went through the motions and said the words he had said thousands of times over the years in similar yet still vastly different situations.

Dan Cena: I am placing you under arrest for assault and battery, disturbing the peace, and destruction of property. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have told them to you?

John Cena: Just get me in the car dumbass.

John kept his voice low but Dan could still hear the explosive anger that was still threatening to brim over and see it in the way his brother was trembling from bottled up rage. Dan replied in a matching but firm whisper, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was still outside. The two men John had attacked still had not moved though Dan could see both seemed to be breathing just fine. No doubt the real police would be here soon to help call a bus to take care of them. They needed to be long gone before then.

Dan Cena: Just keep your hands clasped behind your back until we can get you in the car so it looks like I have you handcuffed.

John actually did as he was told and the two men walked to the Cadillac where Dan simulated placing John into the backseat of the vehicle. By the time Dan got back around to the driver's side John had already climbed over and into the passenger seat. Removing the gun from his jeans and placing it underneath the driver's side seat Dan climbed into the Escalade and took over. He was so angry he could barely see straight. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He'd done what he had felt he'd had to do in the moment to not only stop John from killing the guy, which he'd looked intent on doing, but also to keep his brother from being arrested, even if this time the charges would have been legit. Still, Dan had seen and heard about many men and women in his line of work that had abused their priviledges as officers of the law but Dan himself had never been one of those men. He had vowed he never would. Now he was and it made him sick. John sat in the passenger seat, silent, holding his head in his hands and slouching against the side of the passenger door panel. There was a long, tense silence as Dan pulled the truck out onto the main road but then he couldn't keep quiet anymore. He simply exploded.

Dan Cena: WHAT THE FUCK!? WHAT THE FUCK MAN?! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED THAT GUY! I DON'T EVEN WANT TO KNOW WHAT MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED IF I HADN'T BEEN THERE! ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!?! John? Are you... are you laughing!?!?

Sure enough, from his side of the car John was chuckling deeply, his eyes empty, as he looked down at his blood stained hands. Dan felt the cold fingers of fear slide down his spine. He'd heard the stories, gotten the first hand accounts, seen the bruises his father had worn when he had come home from his visit to Warfare, but this was the first time he'd actually seen the man that everyone else had been talking about in person.

Dan Cena: Who are you? What is wrong with you? John, please, talk to me. Listen, in just a few days you are going to be getting into that ring with someone that people care about. A person. And I can honestly say now that I have no idea what you might do to him! I have no idea what might happen! I can't let you go in there and... and... John whatever you are planning to do just... think about this. Think about your career, your life. Don't do anything you will regret...

Something about this last statement seemed to be hysterical to John and he began to laugh even harder, bringing one hand to his temple for a moment and leaving a bloody smudge in its wake as he lowered it again. His voice was full of bitterness despite his apparent humor, rising steadily until he was yelling.

John Cena: Too late for that! WAY too late for that! Where were you Danny, with that sound piece of judgement, oh I don't know, about a year ago?!?! You come down here and you think you can what? Fix me? Change anything? You are even more stupid than you look you fuckin piece of shit! You don't know anything! So don't come barging into my life down here, months after I actually needed you, acting like some knight on a white horse here to save the day! You don't need to be worrying about Punk. It's important to have enemies Dan. They keep you strong when you are feeling like you are at your weakest. It's important to be angry when you could be feeling so much more pathetic and weak. You need to wisen up and face the truth. See everybody loves a soldier until they come home and stop fighting. You know they all just want me to bleed right? And the sad part? There was a time where I knew that's all people wanted and if they wanted me to bleed that's exactly what I did. I would bleed. For them. For their amusement, for their enjoyment and for a paycheck and an "atta boy John." But where did it get me huh?! Live isn't a fairy tail Danny. All endings aren't happy, the good guy doesn't always win, and what you feel is meant to be is rarely what actually happens! Life can be cruel, and cold, and dark and we are all just alone when it comes right down to it and the sooner you get your head out of your ass and realize that the better off you'll be. I don't need you or your help so go fuck yourself you self-righteous jackass...

Dan had heard enough.

Dan Cena: Stop! We don't speak to each other like this! We never have! You take your life and you just throw it around like it is worthless and we're all...

Now it was John's turn to interrupt, punching his own dash hard and leaving a bloody fist-sized dent in the custom carbon fiber as he shouted without thinking.

John Cena: Because I wish I was dead! Because I wish I had never gotten out of that car! I had it all planned out and no one would have ever had to know!

Dan's voice was quiet and low as he tried to focus on the still very foreign streets in front of him.

Dan Cena: How fast were you going John?

John Cena: Apparently not fast enough.

It was all that needed to be said. It was a statement. The dawning of the realization was too horrific for Dan to imagine. What would it take to make such a formerly strong man crumble so much? Feel like he had no other options? What did it feel like to want to die? Really want it? So much you had actually tried to make the desire a reality and in such a way? Was that what his brother had been living with all this time? Dan and John had always been the closest of the brothers but, such as the way of older and younger siblings, Dan had always looked up to John for advice and help in difficult times. John had never needed Dan. Not like that. Not like Dan and his brothers had needed and relied on him countless of times in the past. Now Dan had no idea what to say to his brother. What the right thing to say would be. He had to try though. He had to say something.

Dan Cena: John I think you might need some help. I think maybe you should talk to that doctor you've mentioned at your work. Or Nicole, or Wes, or maybe even Jessica if you think she'd be willing after everything you...

John Cena: Stop. The. Car.

Dan Cena: Johnny we're practically in the middle of nowhere, it's miles to your house.

John Cena: STOP THE GOD DAMN CAR DAN! BEFORE I MAKE YOU!

It was only because of fear that his brother would jump out of the moving vehicle or actually attempt something that would get both of them and others hurt or worse that got Dan to pull the vehicle off the road and onto the shoulder. Before the car had even come to a complete stop John was already jerking the door open.

Dan Cena: John!

John turned at the sound of his name, his hand already on the door. His voice was almost pleading. Almost.

John Cena: Go home Danny. Go home to your wife and for God's sake do whatever it is that you need to do to make it work. Don't do what I did and throw it all away. Just go home and leave me alone! Stay the fuck away from me! You have no idea... just... don't watch on Sunday. Tell the family not to watch.

Dan Cena: But John, what are you going to do?

Just before John slammed the door shut Dan heard him mutter two words. "End this."

Sunday Night, Target Center, Minneapolis

John's dog tags bearing memories already faded had long since stayed at the bottom of his gym bag. He looked at them now and they almost meant nothing. The names of his family, a few special gifts from charities, his Christmas gift from Randy and Nicole bearing his world title victory date etched in metal... all meaningless now. Instead, his hand found the heavy steel lock and thick chain that had more recently adorned his neck. It's true weight would perhaps surprise people if they ever actually held it. In a small, brief moment of weakness, perhaps with even the slightest bit of himself that was left rearing its ugly head, he knew he would need strength to do what he planned to do. Everyone who knew the true story of Punk and Cena had prepared themselves for a real fight. Not something planned out. Not a pre-determined piece of sports entertainment. In truth though, absolutely no one but perhaps John Cena and Phil Brooks themselves had any idea of what was coming in just a few hour's time. Best case scenario for John, he ended Punk. Worst case scenario, Punk ended him. In reality John was fine with either. As the time for his match drew closer John would feel no fear or concern. Only the familiar insesent rage that was only fueled further when the last thing he looked at before heading to the gorilla was probably be the last thing he should have, a picture from a lifetime long ago. A life that would never be the same again.