Author's Note: These next few chapters are dedicated to Sammysmissingshoe.

SPN

From his place on the floor, Sam watched helplessly as Abaddon directed her attention towards the pool table, where the lanky player in the sweater vest was cowering in fear. He held up his cue stick as if it could shield him, obviously incapable of fighting, which kindled a look of false pity on the bitch's face.

"Oh, you poor thing," she crooned. "Don't worry; I'll be gentle." She promptly charged at him, batting the stick away and slashing his throat with her fingernails. The screaming crescendoed as the man's body hit the ground. It was chaos in the bar with people literally running over each other trying to escape—but there was no way out. Abaddon laughed, savoring the bedlam as she scouted for another victim. She was going to slaughter everyone!

Frantic, Sam pulled his flask from his pocket. He had to do something! But his hands were shaking, and removing the lid proved surprisingly difficult. Meanwhile, Abaddon murdered another man, followed by a young woman. The smell of blood filled the room. Sam began sweating.

Someone took hold of his elbow, attempting to haul him to his feet. Caught off guard, Sam reflexively twisted to hook his assailant in the head. Crowley stumbled backwards, cursing under his breath. When he regained his balance, he scowled impatiently at Sam, who was back on his knees. "You twit! We need to get out of here, now!"

Sam ignored him, finally managing to open the flask. He took a large gulp, desperately trying to tune out all the screaming and sobbing and pleading as Abaddon worked her way through the crowd. He couldn't just leave them here to die, and like Dean always said, it was better to go down swinging.

Well, here goes nothing.

Gritting his teeth, Sam clambered to his feet, but a nervous Crowley sidled between him and his target. "Are you daft!?" he demanded. "You can't fight her! It's suicide!"

By some twist of fate, Abaddon had yet to notice the crossroads demon—she was too absorbed in her rampage. Crowley could have taken the opportunity to flee, but he no doubt feared how Dean would react. If he abandoned Sam to a Knight of Hell, it would likely trigger a full-scale war with the eldest Winchester—which didn't bother Sam in the slightest.

Heart pounding, he stretched his arm out towards the would-be king and clenched his fist. This time, the power swelling inside him obeyed his command, and Crowley seized up as an unseen pressure tightened around his throat. Sam swept his arm to the side, psychically reeling Crowley out of the way. "If you come near me," he warned the bastard. "I will kill you. So back off, and try to get those doors open!" Maybe they could save some lives after all.

Releasing his enemy, Sam focused on the real threat. Abaddon was advancing on the blonde musician while licking the blood off her fingers. The poor girl was petrified, too scared to move as tears poured down her face. Sam braced himself, extending his arm and channeling everything he had to stop the bitch in her tracks.

It worked!

At least, it caught her attention. She paused, glancing around to look at Sam with a twinkle in her blue eyes. "So it's true," she purred, smiling in admiration. "And to think, all this time, I've been so eager to kill you." As she turned to face him fully, she tossed her hair over her shoulders and experimentally flicked her wrist. Sam managed to hold his ground, but it took considerable effort—his knees buckled, his head throbbed, and he unwittingly drew his hand up to his temple.

Abaddon's smile widened. "I'm impressed. Honestly, Sam, you've been holding out on me. Why am I just now finding out you're the little prince?"

His pounding heart skipped a beat. Little prince? Oh, that did not sound good. He backed away as she began sauntering towards him. Just because they could withstand each other's abilities didn't mean they were evenly matched. Abaddon was far stronger physically, and could kill him as easily as she could kill anyone. Unfortunately, Sam had a feeling that wasn't her intention. Crap.

"Tell me something," she said as she crossed the distance between them. "How'd you do it? How could you possibly trap his majesty down in that wretched cage?"

Lucifer.

Sam suddenly flashed back to the pit. He saw the chains perforating his body. He heard the gleeful laughter. A familiar visage appeared in front of him, both calm and sinister, shrouded by an eerie blue light. Sam struggled to breathe.

Then, the smell of blood, and a warm touch on his face, snapped him back to the present. Abaddon was caressing his cheek, staring into his eyes almost reverently. Sam grabbed her wrist, but couldn't move her hand away. She reciprocated by clutching his other wrist with her other hand and squeezing painfully tight. He gasped, despite himself.

"I asked you a question, little prince," she taunted softly. "It's rude to ignore me. Now, we both know I'll have my answer one way or another, but why make it difficult? How did you trap his majesty in the cage?"

Sam shook his head. "Why? It won't change anything. Lucifer's gone, and he's not coming back. It's over!"

"Is it?" she asked, unconvinced. "Care to wager on that? Because, if I'm not mistaken, the sixty-six seals were all destroyed, and they can't just be repaired. By all rights, the door to the cage should be wide open for the rest of eternity. But it's not. Somehow, you and your brother must have changed the locks, and I want the key."

The rings of the Four Horsemen. She would take them, and she would open the cage, and she would unleash Lucifer to walk the earth!

Sam didn't know what gave him away, but the bitch recognized his tell. She chuckled wickedly. "It's on the tip of your tongue, boy. So let's hear it. Don't be shy."

Sam dropped her wrist to punch her in the face. The momentum whipped her head to the side, but she wasn't really jarred, and she maintained her hold on his other arm. He tried yanking free, but her grip was ironclad.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked, righting herself. "What did you hope to accomplish?"

"Go screw yourself!"

"Temper, temper." She roughly twisted his arm behind his back and drove him to his knees. He grunted, struggling ineffectively—she was too powerful. "You know, you Winchesters are so delicious when you're feisty. I just want to keep you."

The implications sent a chill down his spine.

At that moment, the front doors and the emergency exits all flew open, and the terrified survivors ran for their lives. Abaddon glanced up in surprise, unaware of Crowley's presence and confused by the interference.

Desperate to escape, Sam took the opportunity to shake her off, but she quickly countered by wrapping an arm around his neck, catching him in a choke hold.

"Oh, I don't think so," she whispered in his ear. "You're with me now, and I'm going to take outstanding care of you. After all, our master will probably want you back when I set him free."

The next thing Sam knew, Abaddon was teleporting them both away.

SPN

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