Up In Flames

Sam gripped Ruby's demon-killing knife tightly and actually felt his nerves jangle with each step he took.

Rarely had he ever felt this anxious while on a hunt. But this wasn't just any hunt. Oh, no, he and Dean were here to kill Abaddon.

Sam took a deep, steadying breath and peeked around the corner of the redbrick building, his back pressed flat against the wall.

He knew Dean was somewhere nearby, an angel blade as his weapon, but Sam would have felt better seeing his brother.

Because just as this wasn't a run-of-the-mill hunt, Abaddon wasn't a run-of-the-mill demon. She was a Knight of Hell, a demon created by Lucifer himself, and significantly stronger than any hellspawn they had ever come across.

Sam shivered involuntarily at the thought of the fallen angel and crept forward, his footsteps nearly silent.

The young man froze as a feminine chuckle sounded behind him and Sam was slammed forcibly against the ground, his head hitting the cracked pavement cruelly and plunging him into unconsciousness.

SPN

Dean was really staring to hate the Bigerson's franchise. For some inexplicable reason, the restaurant seemed to be a magnet for the supernatural. Just like Sam.

When he'd gotten word that Abaddon was rumored to be hanging out at an abandoned Bigerson's, Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Of course, why wouldn't the bitch make her demonic headquarters at a diner that attracted Bible-thumping, lunatic hunters and served spiked Turducken sandwiches?

Now, he gazed warily at the sketchy-looking building. He didn't know why it had been closed but maybe that was a good thing. The windows were boarded up- the wood covered with graffiti- and the door was crisscrossed with yellow police tape.

Yeah, that was a good sign.

While Dean was supposed to check out the front of the building, Sam was at the back, looking for a way inside.

Dean checked his watch. Sam shouldn't be taking this long; the place should have an employees' entrance.

"That's it," Dean muttered, his fist clenching the cold handle of the angel blade he held, "I'm coming in."

SPN

Sam woke groggily, his head pounding.

He looked up and groaned painfully. Blood had trailed down the side of his face and neck, sticky and wet.

He tried to raise his arms to wipe the mess away but found that they were pinned behind his back.

Sam jerked forwards and gritted his teeth. He was sitting on a Bigerson's red vinyl chair, trapped. He couldn't even feel his hands they were bound so tightly.

He tried to kick out but his ankles were tied to the legs of the chair.

Sam turned his head when he heard footsteps and Abaddon stopped in front of him, a bright red plastic gas can dangling from one manicured hand.

"You're awake," she smiled, "I hoped you would be."

Sam couldn't take his eyes off the can, "What are you going to do? Why didn't you just kill me outside?"

The Knight grinned, showing off perfectly white, straight teeth, "Now what fun would that have been killing you without even knowing what hit you? No, I wanted you conscious for this, Sam."

The hunter struggled uselessly against the ropes binding him, "What are you going to do to me?"

"Kill you, what else?" Abaddon said, "But I wanted to get a little revenge while I was at it."

The Knight lifted the gas can; "You burnt me; so I'm going to pay you back."

Sam's eyes widened and his heart galloped with fear, "No, please."

"Begging? Really?" Abaddon laid a free hand on her hip and stared at Sam for a long moment.

"You're afraid of fire," she said slowly and then smiled, "What happened to you, Sam Winchester, to make you feel such terror?"

Sam didn't respond. He struggled against the ropes, the bindings cutting into his wrists and drawing blood with his attempts to break free.

He'd never told Dean but even though Cas had taken away most of his memories of his time in the Cage- the worst ones which seemed to cause him hallucinations- he remembered some of it.

And the one that lingered, that refused to fade, was the memory of burning.

"Please, don't," Sam begged as Abaddon approached, twisting the cap off the can and tossing it aside, "Please."

The Knight smirked as she held the can up and over Sam. He bowed his head and Abaddon poured the gasoline.

The foul-smelling liquid soaked Sam's hair, sloshed over his clothes. His eyes watered as the flammable fluid stung them and he coughed, some of it actually going down his throat.

"Let me go," Sam continued as Abaddon threw the can to the side, "Not like this… please don't kill me like this."

Abaddon stepped in front of the hunter once more and shrugged, "Sorry, love. An eye for an eye."

From the pocket of her black leather jacket, the Knight pulled a book of matches. She smiled wickedly as she broke a single match off and held it up, relishing the utter horror in the young man's eyes at the sight of it.

Abaddon frowned when Sam's green eyes flashed a glowing blue and his expression became calm and stern.

She heard the ropes binding his hands and feet snap and he stood, towering over her.

Abaddon, however, was not afraid. She smiled seductively up at Sam.

"So you have a hitchhiker," she said, "And who, may I ask, are you?"

"That is of no consequence, demon," the angel said in a deep voice.

Abaddon raised the match she held a little higher, "Care to join our little bonfire?"

"I will not let you harm this human," the angel told her with finality and the Knight smirked.

"Are you going to stop me?" Abaddon asked and Sam took a step forward.

"You think you're strong enough to kill me? Even from here I can sense you're weak," the Knight taunted, clearly not frightened by the angel.

"I may not be strong enough to kill you, demon, but I can injure you," Sam replied and raised a hand, palm outward and fingers splayed.

Abaddon actually laughed, "If you do that you'll only hurt yourself as well!"

The angel though, ignored her and stepped forward again with purpose, laying a hand against Abaddon's chest.

SPN

Dean slammed his shoulder bodily into the metal door that led to the kitchen when he heard a female scream from just beyond. Although it wasn't Sam, Dean knew something bad had just happened.

"Sammy! Where are you?" he called as he stared at the abandoned fryers and stovetops.

As his eyes raked the kitchens for movement he caught sight of something that made his heart stop.

A red plastic container used for gasoline. He had one just like it in the trunk of the Impala.

Hurrying forward and turning a corner, Dean's heart began beating again when he saw Sam lying on his side on the tiled floor.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean cried and dropped to his knees beside his brother.

Sam was soaked with what looked like water but then Dean caught the distinct tang of gasoline.

"Oh God, Sammy," Dean grabbed his brother's shoulder and shook it, "Wake up, c'mon, get up!"

He glanced around and saw a red vinyl chair that had toppled over, course yellow ropes- their ends frayed- tangled around it.

"D'n?" a whispery voice asked and the older brother sighed with relief.

"Sam," he murmured and smiled gratefully down at his brother's green eyes.

"A-Abaddon…" Sam stammered. Dean reached down and helped his brother sit up, frowning at the gash oozing blood down the side of his face and neck.

"What happened, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Ab-Abaddon… s-she… tried to b-burn…" Sam stuttered and Dean held up a hand.

"That bitch got the jump on you?" he asked and Sam nodded, spitting gasoline-tasting saliva from his mouth.

"S-she was g-gonna b-b-b-" Sam tried to explain but he couldn't get the words out.

Dean brushed Sam's wet bangs from his brow. He looked again at the chair and ropes.

Putting two and two together, Dean frowned, anger surging through his veins.

That bitch was going to set his brother on fire!

But then what had happened? What had stopped her? How had Sam broken free of the ropes?

Dean recalled the woman's pained scream moments before he'd entered the kitchen and found Sam.

Zeke. I must have been Ezekiel. The angel had taken the wheel and drove Abaddon out.

No wonder Sam was as weak as a kitten. Zeke surely didn't have that kind of juice in him.

But still he'd tried.

God bless him.

"Let's get the hell out of here and get you cleaned up," Dean said and gripped Sam's arm at the elbow, pulling him up.

The younger brother leaned heavily against his sibling but Dean didn't care. He was just glad that Sam was alright. If Zeke hadn't been there…

Dean didn't even want to think about that.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean said.

Sam grunted a reply, too exhausted to do much for than shuffled forward slowly with Dean as a support.

"Remind me to never let us eat at Bigerson's again."

Author's Note:

I had this idea for a while but never got around to writing it until now. Wanted to have it published before the season ended.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think.