Sam knew she was there. Of course.

This could never have been easy.

She lunged for him, swinging the Michael sword towards his sternum. He twisted instantly, swinging one hand to direct a table against the wall at her head. The momentum in the sprung floorboards helped her to dive to the side, narrowly avoiding the flying furniture. She rolled, and pulled a knife from a sheath hung on her belt. She flung it toward his face, Sam's face, though she told herself that she was long over thinking he was still inside the flesh Lucifer had stolen. He flicked a hand, and sent the knife blurring back toward her. Faith used the opportunity to roll over to where Dean lay.

He was bruised and bloody and battered and Faith could barely remember how he looked without it. She shook his shoulder roughly, no time for pre-amble or caution. He groaned and blinked bleary eyes that grew wide when he recognised her. Realised that she was there, alive and breathing, bursting with life. She glanced back at Sam, and her knife was once again in his hand. He was walking toward them, enjoying her panic. She shoved the Michael sword into Dean's hand.

"Use it," she growled, fierce with fear and the desperate urge to protect Dean. "This is your last chance, so trust me and use the sword, Dean."

"How..."

"Do it!"

He staggered to his feet, and lifted the sword. It began to glow, fiery red light shining from the bronze blade and piercingly white light from the silver handle. Sam faltered midstep. Faith didn't hesitate, and dived toward him, tackling him around the waist and dragging him to the floor.

Dean was beside them instantly, staring at his brother with terror but also a steely resolve. The sword shone brighter, and Faith felt sweat beading all over her as the heat of it filled the room.

"You think that will defeat me?" laughed Sam, "A girl and a sword will never be enough to best the Devil. What a disappointment you are, big brother."

"Enough," Faith interjected, "I've met so many variations of you now I'm bored of the small talk." She meant it too, the First Evil, everything nasty she'd encountered in Sunnydale and after. She was tired to her bones of everything. The only difference was now it was riding around in her friend and much as she tried to ignore it, she didn't like that. Dean gripped the sword tighter.

"They all died too," he whispered, "so a girl and a sword- best option actually." Dean's voice hitched slightly. "I am so sorry, little brother." Sam's – Lucifer's – eyes grew wide. Realisation, fear, a hundred other emotions he had always denied that he had, coming to him a moment too late. Dean brought the sword down, hard, into Sam's chest. There was a roar and an explosion of light. Faith was thrown across the room, slamming into the wall with – in a normal person – bone-breaking force. She coughed, and shielded her eyes against the glare in the middle of the room.

There was a pillar of light surrounding the two brothers. Startling white in the centre with flaming red light encircling it in a whirlwind of snaking swirls. As she watched, the white light focussed down into Sam. He shuddered, and tendrils of silver and black seeped out of him, pulling up from the wound in his chest into the sword. He screamed, and lightning cracked into Dean, throwing him from the pillar. He skidded across the ground, and the light died.

Faith pulled herself up, staring between the two brothers. Sam now lay still, and the blade in his chest had turned black, ribbons of silver circling the otherwise dull metal. Dean was shaking, pushing himself up to his feet. His face was torn between anguish and confusion, and he was staring hard at something over to one side of her.

"Cas?" The explosion had left Faith's ears ringing, so she couldn't help but wonder if she had misheard Dean. She followed his gaze. The guy in the trenchcoat, the one who had given her the sword, was chanting something she didn't understand. At his feet, a portal opened. A swirling mess of colour that looked as if it went down to the depths of the earth. He strode over to Sam, pulled the sword from his chest, and flung it into the portal.

Faith didn't see the portal seal itself, because all she could look at was the blood staining the suit. That goddamn white suit. It was wet with blood, darkening all over. It was just Sam now. What was left of him. A bleeding bag of meat in a tacky suit.

"It's done." The angel's voice was toneless, but all Faith could focus on was blood on white fabric. Dean stepped into her line of vision, leant down, and closed his brother's eyes with a shaky hand. Faith stared at him instead. Pushed away her grief and focussed on him. What she had come there for.

Dean. Always Dean.

He turned to face her, and what little colour was left drained from his face.