Author's Note: Here's the next chapter. Tuck in, kids. It's more of a double chapter, but I wanted to give you more this time and I was on a roll. Thanks so much for continuing to read my story and don't be afraid to leave a quick review! Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Power

For the hundredth time Sam placed his feet flat on the ground and pushed upwards, aware that he was making his wrists bleed, yet unaware of the agonizing pain. The physical pain was nothing compared to the mental torture he was putting himself through. A thousand possibilities were floating in and out of his mind every minute and he could do nothing to stop them. So many questions, so many undesired answers—he wanted it to end, yet could not let himself accept an ending that would come from the situation.

Finally someone shoved the swing door open in the back of the theatre. Sam would have liked to give them a real show of defiance, but he was nearly dying to know what was going to happen next. He immediately twisted in his chair to see that Ben was walking down the aisle, accompanied by Max and a young girl.

Sam opened his mouth to question what was happening, but the little girl smirked knowingly and he found himself unable to talk. The rest of the world fell away—Ben, Max and every other detail of the theatre. As the girl rounded the last row of theatre chairs, they too faded into oblivion. He was unable to see anything aside from the girl, who now stood in front of him, smiling sweetly.

What the hell? Sam's mind was flying into panic. The rational, educated side of him knew it was important to stay calm, but he was unable to resist the feeling of alarm that was overtaking him, Why can't I talk?! Is my mouth even moving?

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his own body, discovering that his mouth was not moving. She was able to control it and was not allowing him to speak.

Since he could see nothing aside from Lilith, he focused his eyes on her, desperately trying not to fall into an abyss of uncontrollable terror. She was around ten years old, dark-haired and pointy nosed. She wore a purple dress with matching shoes and radiated nothing but innocence. Yet Sam could feel it within her. He was nearly sick with the solidity of it; the sensation of a thousand dirty, bloody souls, given to her or taken by her to spend an eternity in a realm of torture. Screaming echoes danced within his mind for a moment, making him unable to even look at her for fear of drowning in a sea of maddening misery, swimming just beneath her deceivingly childlike blue eyes.

Oh, God, Sam could harvest no other thoughts within his overwhelmed mind.

Lilith's eyes sparkled with glee as she assessed him, "No shoes," she approached Sam and held a hand up, clearly meaning to touch his forehead, "Why haven't you worn any shoes? Didn't you know we'd be playing?" Her voice was as innocent as a person would expect from a child, but Sam was nearly gagging on her hatred for him, as he felt it being projected from the very axis of her being.

As her small, slender fingers made connection with Sam's forehead, sliding across his brow, he yearned to cry out for help. It wasn't pain—it was much worse. He felt her driving herself into his very soul, disconnecting him from who he was. Fighting the feeling with all of his strength, Sam could feel his own soul longing to give up.

Just as Sam felt that he was about to be thrown into an abyss of misery and defeat, he felt the hold on his soul begin to ebb away. She was playing. She wanted to drive him hard enough to want it. And he wasn't sure he didn't. He could hardly imagine surviving more than a minute of whatever she had just done to him.

Dean's voice suddenly flooded Sam's mind, Don't you dare, little brother. I'm coming.

Fully aware that he had created this voice within his mind, Sam decided to listen to it anyway. A falsified voice of his brother's was much more enticing than Lilith's desires any day. Sam felt himself shift slightly in his seat, positioning himself to fight for all he was worth. He wouldn't let her win. She could torture him until there was nothing left, but Sam invested in the idea that it wouldn't come to that. Dean's voice echoed once more within him, encouraging him to resist Lilith's power, That's it, Sammy. You show her how the Winchesters roll.

O O O O O

The ach in Riley's head was slowly subsiding, but he could still sense her in his gut. She was beginning to doubt him—he could feel it. Was her voice the one that had questioned him as he'd left the theatre?

There was a sudden commotion behind him, which startled him out of his thoughts. At first he thought something had hit the car—a wild soccer ball or simply a clumsy kid, but as he pulled his head out of his hands and raised his head to peer out the window, a blade flashed downward across his vision. Riley grunted and attempted to reach for it, but it was resting on his neck before he had even been able to raise his hands.

"Hands on the wheel," Dean growled, pulling back on the machete, causing a bead of blood to trickle down Riley's neck.

Riley glared into the rearview mirror, as he complied, "You son of a bitch."

Dean was holding the machete handle in his left hand as his right hand was wrapped around the end of the blade. He had used the paper bag that it had come in as a makeshift handle for his right hand. The blade was thin and sharp—all it would take to slice through Riley's neck was a swift pull backwards on Dean's part.

"How'd you do it?" Dean snarled into Riley's ear, "How'd you escape the Yellow Eyed Demon when he collected all of his precious, chosen children?"

Riley stayed silent, enraged at the fact that Dean had caught him off his game.

"How?!" Dean put more pressure on the machete, causing Riley to tip his head back slightly, "Tell me or kiss your ass goodbye—well, kiss your head goodbye—same thing."

There was really no reason not to tell Dean, "She found me first. She told me what I was—what my powers meant. She showed me what I could become and made me who I am." Riley was aware that the description seemed rehearsed and did not fight the way the words fell out of his mouth. The world was still fairly unstable as he glanced towards the tapestry on the ceiling of the car, trying to focus on one spot and allow his vision to regulate itself.

"Great," Dean's voice was slightly calmer having gotten the information he had asked for, "You do realize you just gave me the description of a classic brainwashing, right?"

Riley stayed silent, finding himself unwilling to argue with this fact. On some level he'd always been aware that she had only made him strong for her own benefit, but he was also getting the power in return. He desired to believe that he had chosen this fate, but lately, he'd begun to question this small detail of his position.

"You think a brainwashing is what I've been through?"

Dean blinked, hearing something in Riley's voice he'd have never thought possible after their encounter last night: regret. Somewhere deep within his mind, Riley regretted what he'd become. Dean could read it in his old friend's voice.

It's a trick! Dean forced himself to remain cold, He's making you feel for him. Don't let him get to you, Dean.

Dean felt the thoughts become physical as he pulled his hands back half an inch, causing Riley to thrust his neck backwards and gasp, most likely expecting Dean to end his existence.

"Just drive us back to the theatre, asshole. One wrong move and I'll turn you into two nasty pieces instead of just one," Dean did his best to sound calloused and harsh, but he could hear in his own voice that his words were forcibly cruel.

Riley could not move his head without causing another cut to his neck, but he spoke in a whisper, "Okay."

Dean allowed Riley an inch to operate on, although he imagined that the vampire's ability to function his own body was still quite difficult, not to mention the fact that he was controlling the car. The thought of his baby convinced Dean to allow Riley one more inch of flexibility as he glanced around the windows, hoping that no one had noticed the proceedings within the car.

It was only a matter of time before someone spotted the situation, which made Dean's heart nearly skip a beat. He couldn't imagine being sidetracked by civilian trivialities when something so large was at stake. He reflected on the fact that to any average person, this would appear as if it were some sort of car jacking—an intense one, to be sure, but a car jacking all the same. Dean recalled Sam's words at this sort of situation: Man, our lives are weird.

The thought of Sam made Dean all the more focused on the destination at hand, "Get goin', friend." He meant for the word 'friend' to sound condescending and sarcastic, but couldn't help but notice that the connotation of the word actually insinuated a connection. Irritated, he added hastily, "Go!"

After a brief hesitation, Riley shifted the car into gear, pulling away from the curb and flipping a U-turn in order to go back towards the theatre, all the time peering out of the bottom of his eyes because the machete prevented him from tipping his head downwards.

"Dude," Riley spoke after nearly hitting a parked car for the third time.

Despite the fact that Dean was trying to appear 'all business', he had also noticed the potential damage that may come to his baby, but was unwilling to allow Riley any more operating room. Riley was a vampire—he was stronger, faster, and more graceful than a human being—any underestimation of his power would do Dean in.

"Shut up and drive," Dean ordered as he allowed Riley another inch of slack.

O O O O O

Sam let out a heavy sigh as the torturous invasion of his body faded slowly, "Is that all you got?" He was slightly surprised, but pleased that he was now able to talk.

Lilith continued to smile, "No, Sam," she skipped in place as her smile and eyes grew abnormally large, "It isn't."

Another wave of agony burst into his head, begging him to surrender to the torture. To Sam's surprise and distress, it began to spread within his body. He could feel her in his chest, in the very pit of his stomach, even in his bare feet. She was invading his body as if she were a rapid and very painful virus.

"Stop!" Sam couldn't help but scream the single word, attempting to put an end to his own suffering and feeling that it was somehow selfish, "Stop!"

The pain subsided marginally; though it still continued to throb within Sam's very heart, "What—?"

Sam was barely able to look at Lilith, fully aware that his chest was heaving uncontrollably under her force.

"Yes?" Her eyes sparkled with delight. He had been fighting with everything he possessed as she had berated his mind with her force. So far, he'd been able to resist whatever she was trying to do to his body, but he could feel his resolve wearing thin.

"What do you want?" Sam hated the words as much as he hated her, but could not avoid speaking them. He wanted to know what it took to end it—he yearned for it to be over, and he couldn't imagine another minute of the pain he'd withstood since Lilith had arrived.

The little girl threw her head back, cackling in a way that no real little girl could have managed, making Sam feel sick with anticipation and alarm.

"Sam," She strolled in front of him, the hem of her purple dress dancing about her knees, "You were my favorite, too. But he got to you first—he made you think it was about him." Her false childish smile and demeanor made her tone seem even more sinister, "He was good—so good. He got all of you—except for Riley. I found him hiding from what he had become. He wanted to escape. I let him escape. I gave him more power."

Sam's eyebrows drew upward as he sucked in another uncertain breath. He had no way of escape and no argument to offer. She was speaking of turning Riley into a vampire, which was obviously not only a possibility, but also very plausibly the plan for him. Sam swallowed, unwilling to allow this prospect to become a reality. He would fight it with every ounce of his being, refusing to become a monster.

"He didn't know," Lilth's glee was nothing short of nauseating, "He wanted it. He was lonely, Sam. He'd been without a family and without a home since he'd discovered his power." Lilith backed away from Sam until she was leaning against the front part of the stage, "I didn't make him take it," her eyes danced with devilish pleasure as she crossed her small arms in front of her, "I made him beg for it."

"I won't," Sam answered, barely aware that he had intended to talk at all.

Another round of amused laughter echoed throughout the theatre, "I know." Lilith approached Sam slowly, her voice falling into a mockingly childish singsong voice, "You aren't like him at all."

Although Sam wanted nothing more than to defy whatever she expected him to do, he couldn't help himself from speaking, "Why? What do you want from me?" The question was given much more enthusiasm than Sam had originally intended, but he found himself nearly overwhelmed with the desire to understand what was happening.

"Sam," his name seeped through her lips as if it were something she loved and hated at the same time. The singsong voice returned, resembling a child during recess, "And I won't give you more power."

Sam clenched his jaw shut, determined not to allow himself to be swayed. He could feel her near the fringe of his being, clawing her way in, wanting to make a part of him belong to her. He wouldn't allow it—he couldn't allow it.

"Give in, Sam," Lilith controlled the small girl's body with grace as she practically danced in front of him, "You can be free. You won't hate yourself anymore."

This caught Sam off-guard. He balked and glanced down at his hands, still tied mercilessly to the armrests of the theatre chairs. In fact, this was the first time he'd been able to focus on anything aside from Lilith herself. He resisted the urge to smile as this small development meant that he might have a chance.

Intentionally diverting his attention away from her, he closed his eyes momentarily, before attempting to see something aside from her falsely innocent face. He looked down to see that his body was visible, as well as the chair that he had come to loathe. He could sense her anger as she felt him resisting with more effort, pushing her away.

The carpet came into view, the angry red so bright that it nearly hurt his eyes at first. Then he pulled his eyes upwards, willing himself to look at anything except for Lilith. Movement caught his eye just to his right and he glanced that way to see that it was Ben. It was working. The pain and the feeling of invasion were slowly retreating away from him as each new object came in to focus.

Lilith's small features contorted into a scowl of fury as she took a careful step back, allowing her energy to be thrust away from Sam. The world washed back into vision suddenly, making Sam's eyes sting. He closed them and lowered his head, somewhat exhausted with the effort it had taken to push her away.

O O O O O

Dean's arm muscles were beginning to ach with the effort of keeping the machete in place. He felt as if his arms had been flexed and ready for hours, although they had not been driving for more than a few minutes.

Riley read him like a book, "Tired?"

Dean scoffed, inwardly disappointed with himself for having reacted at all, "You wish."

Every part of Dean's anatomy suddenly flew forward as Riley slammed on the brakes. Dean managed a strangled yelp before crashing into the back of Riley's seat. In the briefest of moments, Dean felt as if he could have hurt Riley—could have killed him, had he chose to—but he'd let the split second pass, and dropped his right hand to the seat in an effort to resist being thrown into the front of the car.

Riley snarled with satisfaction as the blade flew forward, away from his neck. Strangely, his instinct was to grin with pride at Dean, who may have been the closest friend he'd ever known.

As the impala groaned to a halt, Riley swiped Dean's left arm out of the way as he flung the door open and bailed out of the car. When he'd regained his balance, he turned back, giving Dean a nasty smirk and readying himself for the fight to come.

Returning Riley's smirk with one of his own, Dean opened the door and exited the car, careful to keep the machete in front of him. At first, neither man moved, allowing a moment of reflection to transpire. One of them had taken the noble path by fighting evil and the other had agreed to live the life of the very thing he hated. As the moment passed, they understood that this was the culmination of their friendship and rivalry—of their relationship to each other. Today was the day. Both had seen much and been through hell, but today was the day they made it matter.

After the short-lived moment, Riley lunged forward. Dean reacted instinctively, swinging the machete at Riley's head. Riley had ducked low and avoided the blade by less than an inch, as his body collided with Dean's, sending them both into the impala before landing in a heap on the side of the highway. Dean's already bruised ribs screamed in protest, but he forced himself to ignore the pain—he'd deal with that later.

Dean felt the machete fly from his grasp as he was forced to use his right hand to prevent a nasty face plant into the pavement. Riley's fist connected with his kidney before he could manage to flip back around and he grunted loudly. Riley was about to gain a straddling position, and Dean knew if he allowed that, the fight would be over. He used his arms and legs to shove himself upward, rocking them both off balance.

Annoyed that this had become more of a brawl than the noble fight Dean had anticipated, he struggled to his feet, positioning himself to gain the advantage. Riley quickly did the same and before even a second had passed, Dean had moved in.

The first three attempts at a solid hit were blocked, but Dean could tell that Riley was impressed with his speed and grace. He also had the disquieting feeling that Riley was holding back speed—not giving Dean his full effort yet—which worried Dean. However, if he used the fact that Riley may be underestimating him, he could defeat him.

Dean changed it up on his fourth swing, going for the body instead of the face. His fist connected with Riley's stomach and he saw Riley display a look of surprise, but he recovered quickly. Riley shifted into offensive mode as he forced Dean's left arm down and swung at his face. Dean twisted to the side, trying to avoid the fist and almost succeeded. Instead of a solid connection, it glanced off of his right cheekbone. It hurt like hell, but it could have been a lot worse.

Using the hold that Riley had on his arm against him, Dean thrust his body forward, once again slamming into his impala as he squatted as low as he could with Riley still holding his left arm. He reached forward with his right hand and yanked Riley's left foot as far back and up as he could without losing his own balance.

Riley's face registered shock before he found himself on his ass with his back against the impala. Dean wasted no time in grabbing Riley's head with both of his hands, pulling it forward and thrusting his knee straight into Riley's face.

Riley grunted indistinctly, struggling to stay conscious so Dean repeated the move twice more, until he was sure that Riley was out cold. Releasing his hold on Riley's head, Dean stumbled backwards two steps as he watched Riley slump to the ground. His face was already swelling on the left side, where Dean had kneed him.

Slightly relieved, but somehow oddly disappointed that the fight had been rather anticlimactic, Dean bent forward and rested his hands on his knees for a moment, trying not to breath too heavily, as it caused more pain in his ribs. "That was pretty pathetic," he almost whispered, more to himself than to Riley's unconcious body.

The sound of an diesel engine faded into Dean's hearing as a truck topped the hill on which the impala sat. As the truck slowed to a halt on the other side of the highway, the elderly man driving the truck used his index finger to tip his John Deere hat up slightly as he surveyed what Dean supposed was a very strange scene.

Dean smiled awkwardly, glancing around for the machete, which lay about ten feet to his right.

The man caught his glance and followed it, spotting the machete, "Is everything . . . okay, here?"

Dean chuckled nervously, "Yeah, had to pull over here and. . .uh. . " Dean glanced over his shoulder to find that they were actually sitting in front of a corn field, "And cut some sugar cane."

The man's eyebrows drew upward, questioningly as he glanced towards Riley.

"He had a little too much to drink."

"It's 10 in the morning."

"Yeah," Dean again glanced back towards Riley, now beginning to fear that he would wake up before Dean could get rid of the curious farmer, "He's pretty hardcore."

The man finally looked back towards the road and shifted his truck back into gear, "If you're sure you don't need help . . ."

Dean again smiled and put one hand out in front of him, "No, no, we're fine. Thanks for stopping."

Finally, to Dean's great relief, the man gave him a nod and hit the gas, pulling back onto the highway.

Dean had to resist the urge to laugh. He'd been in some really strange situations—ones that civilians and especially farmers wouldn't understand—but it seemed like the mention of the good of one's crops could get a fellow out of almost anything around here.

Sighing heavily, Dean walked back towards Riley, amused at the fact that less than eight hours ago he'd been chatting up a friendly desk clerk at a motel. This day had gotten way too weird way too fast.

Author's Note: Will Sam be able to resist Lilith? Will Dean make it in time to save him? And what role will Riley play? I hope to have a new chapter up by Sunday. Thanks so much for reading and don't be shy! Leave a comment and let me know what you think! : )