Lost then Found:A Dean Ambrose FanFicition

"The following match has been set for one-fall, and it is for the Money in the Bank contract! The only way to win this match is by climbing the ladder and pulling the briefcase down. Introducing first, the challenger. Accompanied to the ring by Brittany Cena, from Cincinnati, Ohio, weighing in at 225 lbs,  Dean Ambrose!" Lillian Garcia's voice echoed off the walls, but was nearly inaudible due to the roars of the electrified crowd inside of the Phillips Arena. The city of Atlanta was always ready for a reason to yell and cheer.

Dean Ambrose hovered in a corner, waiting for Sheamus to walk out. Dean finally had an opportunity to re-insert himself into the WWE World Heavyweight Championship title picture. It wasn't about going for the big prize, it was about wrestling night in and night out, to be the best that he could be. This match was a privilege.

"Making his way to the ring, from Dublin, Ireland, weighing in at 267 lbs, he is the Celtic Warrior, Mr. Money in the Bank, Sheamus." There was a mixture of boos and "You look stupid chants" that came from the crowd. There was nary an empty seat inside of the arena.

While Sheamus handed off his briefcase to the referee, Dean looked to Brittany, who was standing outside of the ropes, and smiled. She returned the favor and bumped fists with him, just as she always did before every match that he had.

About fifteen minutes into the match, it was hard to predict who the winner would be. Both men were worn down yet still attempted to put on a hell of a show. The crowd was literally on the edge of their seats, screaming and chanting everything from "YES! YES! YES!", to "THIS IS AWESOME!" The golden briefcase, which still hung high above the ring, shone in the light. Dean looked up at it and smiled.

He quickly got up and narrowly missed a blow to the back of his head with a steel chair. Sheamus spun around and aimed for Dean's abdomen. Dean quickly counter-attacked and delivered an amazing dropkick. He then snatched the chair from his opponent's hands and proceeded to hit him repeatedly.

Dean knew that the pain did not feel good at all, but he knew that he had to do it. Sheamus writhed and wriggled on the mat. Brittany was at ringside still, careful to avoid any flying objects. As much as he wanted to, Dean knew that he couldn't look at her for long. He dove off of the top rope, providing an elbow drop.

Sheamus recovered rather quickly to everyone's surprise. He grabbed Dean, flipped him upside down and body-slammed him onto the chair that was used earlier.  It hurt almost as bad as when Luke Harper had power-bombed him through a ladder at Wrestlemania 31 earlier in the year. Of course, this wouldn't require his head to be stitched.

Dean and Sheamus were both on the ladder, bloody and battered. Lazy and uncoordinated punches were thrown, but it still wasn't enough to knock either man down. Seth Rollins, of whom had tried to interfere just moments ago, was now lying unconscious on the steel steps thanks to Brittany, whose superkicks were becoming a regular thing. The unconscious part had not been planned, but it still made for good television.

The men's weight caused the flimsy ladder to break, sending Sheamus over the top rope down to the floor below. Dean landed in the middle of the ring and remained motionless for some time. Referees began to swarm, wondering if it would be right to stop the match. Earlier in the night, Triple H had pulled Dean and Sheamus aside, telling them that there was no-one penciled in to win, so it was whomever grabbed the briefcase first that would win. That vital piece of information suddenly came back to Dean.

Like the slowest tortoise imaginable, Dean limped over to a ladder that had gone untouched for almost the entire match. He slowly assembled it, keeping an eye out for Sheamus. He was still lying on the floor with no one coming to his aide. Once the ladder was finished, it was the problem of climbing it while injured that worried Dean. He stole a glance at the crowd and forced a smile. His hands, which were sore and drenched with sweat, fumbled with the hook that the case was attached to. And at last, he grabbed it and clutched it tightly to his chest. I've done it, Dean cried on the inside. I won.