Author's Note: This is the last chapter for a couple days. Enjoy!

Previously:

"He's . . . he's like you," Dean finally finished, watching Sam's face closely.

"What? He's not like me! I—" Sam suddenly understood what Dean had meant. John had followed a lead that had led him to Riley. Riley's mom must have died the same way that Mary had died. He wasn't just evil; he wasn't just a vampire; he was one of them.

After staring at the floor in disbelief for several seconds, Sam brought his eyes back to Dean and spoke in nearly a whisper, "He was chosen—like me."

Chapter 7: Escape

Sam's mouth suddenly felt dry; his body empty, "What—" he found himself having to pause and swallow, terrified by the possibilities this new information presented, "What does that mean?"

"I dunno, man," Dean glanced over his shoulder, paranoid about one of the vampires coming in or hearing their conversation, "When I knew him, he was just a ten year old kid who's mom died—just like our mom. Dad was able to put some pieces together there, so we stayed for a while."

"I remember that motel," Sam said distractedly, and before he had meant to say anything else, he had already finished his thought out loud, "It had a playground."

Dean looked towards Sam, suddenly feeling selfish and guilty. Sam had spent four months trying to occupy his time in a trashy motel room while Dean had been out with John and Riley, doing a bit of research when it needed done, but mostly having the time of his life with Riley. He remembered it as one of the best summers of his childhood, while Sam probably remembered it as one of the worst.

Dean forced himself to continue, leaving these thoughts for later, "When we were tracking down the other chosen kids like you, there were no records on him anywhere—I had Ash check. I thought he might have developed an ability and recognized that he needed to drop off the radar for a while. We talked about things; he knew about the supernatural world," Dean paused, glancing at Sam's eyes, but unable to hold the gaze, "He was—" Dean's voice broke, and he clenched his mouth shut for a moment, reluctant to finish the sentence, "He was my friend, man."

Sam recognized the pain in Dean's eyes and quickly moved the conversation forward in an attempt to distract Dean from dwelling in his regret, "Okay, I had a vision about him because he's one of us. And he's a vampire—will he be more powerful than a vampire? Because he was chosen?" Sam's mind spun with the potential of the situation as he turned his head to look at Dean in question, "Jesus, man."

"I know," Dean nodded and avoided Sam's eyes, not wanting to give away just how regretful he felt for the loss of his childhood friend, "That's why I had to come, Sam. There was no way I was gonna leave you with him—I had to tell you—couldn't have you fightin' blind."

Sam gave Dean what was supposed to be a scowl, but it turned into a smile of thanks. Truth is, he'd have been terrified if Dean wouldn't have been tied down right next to him and felt a twinge of selfishness because of this fact.

"Alright, man, back to business," Dean sighed and bent forward, looking at his feet, "I got a switchblade."

Sam's heart leapt with hope, "Where?"

"In my shoe—right behind my ankle bone. They didn't check there."

"How are you gonna get it out?" Sam knew that the physical dynamics would not allow Dean to access that part of his anatomy.

Dean bit his lip for a second before trying to do so. Despite the situation, Sam had to resist the urge to laugh as Dean twisted his knee back and forth but was unable to get the right side of his right foot anywhere near his hands. He periodically gasped in pain as the movement caused nearly unbearable pain in the vicinity of his ribs.

"Motherfucker!" Dean was nearly working up a sweat before he gave up, "Never thought I'd say it, but yoga may be a good thing."

Sam's mind was already working in overdrive to obtain the valuable knife. Dean wouldn't be able to lift his leg high enough to the right in order to allow Sam to access the knife either. But he could touch Dean's foot with his own . . .

"I'm not wearing shoes!" Sam suddenly said excitedly.

Dean cleared his throat, blinked and looked at Sam as if he were about to lecture him, "I've already mentioned that fact."

Sam rolled his eyes, but was undeterred; "Get your leg over here, dipshit! I can grab the knife with my toes!"

"Holy shit," Dean was nearly flabbergasted by this new development.

Sam allowed himself to smile even though their situation was still rather dire, "Get your foot over here, man."

Dean also smiled and thrust his foot as far as he could to his right. Sam used his own toes to lift up the cusp of Dean's jeans. To his surprise, Dean was wearing tube socks.

"Dude," Sam gave Dean a questioning look.

"Shuddup," Dean glared at Sam for a moment, before letting his smile resurface, "Why do you think they didn't find it?"

Sam hooked his big toe into the top of Dean's sock and pulled it down as far as it would go. He was inwardly thankful that he had forgotten to shoe himself before leaving the motel. It was possible that they would have came about to the same plan, despite the fact that he would have been wearing shoes—Sam could have stripped his feet of shoes and socks without using his hands—but it would not have been nearly as obvious had he been wearing shoes.

Dean shifted uncomfortably as the top part of the knife became visible.

Sam wedged the switchblade between his big and second toe and carefully pulled it upward and outward. Sam scoffed a bit of laughter, "Yes!"

Dean looked at the knife within Sam's toes and then to Sam's face, "Wow, good job, Fonda."

Sam blinked and creased his brow, before deciding that whatever reference Dean had just accessed could wait until later, "Okay, I think I can bend my knee enough to get it to your right hand."

"Alright," Dean licked his lips and strained his hand forward, although it didn't move more than a centimeter or two.

Sam shifted his butt to the left and his shoulders to the right, bending his left leg and thrusting it towards Dean. His foot connected with something fairly solid.

"Damn!" Dean winced in pain as Sam's foot slammed into his knee.

"Sorry!" Sam said straining to get his foot farther up and back, "How close am I?"

"'Bout a foot," Dean answered, "Straight back."

Using his flexibility to the max, Sam pushed his leg as far back as it would go and felt fingers on his toes as Dean snatched the knife out of his grip.

Sam hurriedly straightened up, "Get it?"

Dean's voice was flooded with an odd sort of glee—the kind one uses after seeing a magic trick, "Yeah!"

The flick of the blade sliding out of the handle was music to Sam's ears as Dean maneuvered the knife in his right hand so that he was able to saw away at the rope.

They were both thinking through the situation. Lilith was definitely behind the ordeal, and had orchestrated this entire fiasco to get her hands on Sam.

"What is she gonna do?" Sam finally spoke the thought that had been haunting his mind since he'd realized she was involved.

Dean almost paused as he sawed away at the ropes, but refused to let his eyes find Sam's. He was more afraid than Sam could possibly know, but he heard his father's voice, urging him to do what needed to be done. In this situation, John would have said, "Buck up, boy. Sammy needs you. Take care of him. Keep him safe." Dean felt better having imagined his father's voice, but then another phrase that his father had said to him entered his mind, "Watch out for Sammy—save him, or you might have to kill him."

"No," Dean didn't even whisper it, but more or less breathed it, making it barely audible.

"Huh?" Sam inspected Dean's face, trying to read what he'd been thinking.

"I almost got it," Dean answered, keeping Sam from approaching the topic of his thoughts.

Dean gave a triumphant grunt as the rope finally gave on his right hand.

"Get the other one," Sam said unnecessarily.

What the hell did you think I was gonna do, little brother? Dean thought, slightly amused.

Dean used the knife to cut through the bonds on his left hand within moments, then stood and moved towards Sam.

Dean glanced up towards the entrance into the theatre and was thoroughly dismayed to see that Ben had entered though the swing doors in the back of the theatre. He seemed distracted by something to his left and hadn't noticed that Dean was standing yet. Sam caught the look and glanced over his shoulder, immediately discovering that Ben had entered the room.

"GO!" Sam used his foot to shove Dean backwards as Dean tried to use the knife to cut his bonds. There was no way Dean would be able to free Sam in time.

Dean instantly answered in one word, just as loud and just as convicting, "NO!"

Again glancing over his shoulder, Sam saw that Ben had seen Dean now and was trying to level his gun as he ran down the aisle of the theatre.

Sam thrust his foot into Dean's chest, but didn't push hard enough to knock him over, "You know!" The connotation of the thought was that Dean knew damn well that he could never free Sam quick enough to allow them both to escape. The logical thing to do was flee and attempt to save Sam later—not stay and continue to be held captive with Sam. It had been different the first time he'd volunteered for this gig—he'd have had no idea where to go looking or how to track Riley, since he'd become a virtual ghost. There was nothing else he could do and the military part of his mind that had been molded by John read that perfectly. His brotherly instinct did not.

Sam glanced over his shoulder again to see that Ben was halfway down the aisle, his face completely taken over by rage, "STOP!" He was leaning forward as he ran, and in his hurry to reach Dean as quickly as possible, he became top-heavy and stumbled towards the floor. A shot rang out from the gun as Ben hit the carpet and growled in fury.

"Dean, save the girl!" Sam spoke the only thing that would bring Dean to attention—someone else's well being. He knew his brother had a bit of a messiah complex—Sam recognized that they both did—and if someone was in trouble, Dean couldn't resist at least trying to saving them, "Please! GO!"

Dean gave Sam one last apprehensive glance before leaning towards Sam again. Sam had pushed him away twice, but he had read the acceptance in Dean's eyes and trusted him to lean in. Dean slipped the knife into Sam's right hand before jetting towards the front exit door of the theatre.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading!! I will update as soon as possible, but I am traveling out of town this weekend. At the latest, I'll post the next chapter on Monday! : ) Comments, thoughts, critiques and ideas are welcome! Have a great weekend!