Grabbing Lucifer's arm, Sam tried to wrench the archangel blade from his hand. It was an old street fighting move Dad had taught them a lifetime ago. To disarm your opponent, step inside their reach and use your leverage to get them off balance. Sam twisted Lucifer's arm, turning and pulling the Morningstar off his feet with his superior height. Had he been at full strength, the archangel could have simply killed Sam on the spot, but without all his powers, Lucifer struggled against Sam's back, fighting to both regain his footing and keep hold of the blade. Then he unexpectedly went limp, dropping the shining weapon and draping himself across Sam.

"Hey, this is your favourite position, isn't it bunk buddy?" Lucifer's slippery voice was damp in his ear and his chilled fingers snaked under Sam's shirt, across his stomach and delved low enough to skim under the waistband of his jeans.

Instantly Sam went rigid, paralyzed by an onslaught of memories he normally refused to acknowledge much less actively think about. Bile rose in his throat, and he forgot every shred of technique as he frantically fought to escape Lucifer's chilling grasp. Lucifer just chuckled and licked the helix of Sam's ear before forcefully shoving him away. Sam bounced against the table and fell to his hands and knees.

"Get away from him!" Jack thrust his hand out, but his aim was haphazard, and Lucifer simply floundered backwards from his power blast. Sam's heart was still pounding, and he tried to wrestle his breathing under control. Closing his eyes, all he wanted to do was hide from those terrible memories. Shame-based heat blazed up his neck and cheeks and he edged a little further under the shield of the table.

"S'my?" croaked Dean softly, crouching slightly to catch Sam's eye. His swollen throat garbled the question in his name, but Sam just shook his head. As much as he appreciated the comforting hand on his shoulder, he couldn't look at his brother yet.

"I'm fine," he lied. "Help Jack." Dean hesitated, then gave an unhappy nod, before moving his attention towards the fight that was happening a few feet away. Sam could see the flashes of light and the grunts of pain and effort as Jack turned his powers on Lucifer. Now that Dean's attention wasn't on him, Sam shoved his trauma back into the dark hole he kept it in and gave himself a shake. PTSD could wait until later when his family wasn't in danger. Using the map table to ground himself, Sam began to pull himself up.

Lucifer was deflecting some of what Jack was throwing at him, but it was clear that he was losing, his power no match for his son. Bent over, his hands on his knees, Lucifer wheezed.

"Okay, okay, uncle! You got me." The devil appeared to be surrendering, but Sam didn't trust him.

"You're going to leave and never come back," Jack ordered.

"Sure." Lucifer agreed placatingly, but when he straightened his eyes were shining red. Abruptly, he lunged at Jack and delivered a powerful sucker punch to the boy's solar plexus. Jack doubled over with a loud 'oof', clutching his gut. Leave it to the Prince of Lies to fight dirty.

xxxxxx

Dean hated Lucifer with an overwhelming, violent intensity. The smug bastard just kept coming back, like a recurring nightmare. He didn't know what the dick had said to make his brother freak out, but it had to be something awful to rattle Sam so hard. So, when Jack folded over, gasping and heaving from Lucifer's blow, Dean couldn't stop himself. He threw a haymaker at the archangel. It was a stupid move, but he wanted so badly to wipe the smug smirk off his damned face. Hitting Lucifer's jaw was like smashing his knuckles into a brick wall. Agony screamed through his already abused wrist, and he was certain it was broken now. Lucifer just laughed evilly and rolled his shoulders back. The massive shadow of his wings filled the room and then Dean saw the devil's fist for a split second before it made impact with his face.

This wasn't the first time a punch from Lucifer had sent him flying, and this time wasn't any more pleasant than the last. Dean didn't have time to consider the déjà vu of it all before he was skidding across the floor on his ass. Lucifer smirked as he looked around the room, clearly pleased to have the upper hand. Dean was on the floor. Sam had moved, one hand cautiously on the table but he hadn't yet pulled himself to standing. Cas was hunched over his wounded chest, sitting with his back against the wall not far from where Michael was watching on his knees. Jack was still recovering, hunched over and cradling his stomach.

Lucifer bent and picked up an angel blade that had rolled near his feet. He examined it almost carelessly before waving it at Dean and then the others.

"I gotta give it to you. You guys had a good run." Lucifer swept a mocking bow, tapping the shining blade loosely against his leg. "And, and I was good to you!" He pointed the blade at Dean. "I could have killed you a hundred time when I was wearing Sam or Cas," he said, with a creepy shudder of pleasure at the remembrance. "But I didn't." Turning to Cas, he waved the blade in his direction.

"And Cassandra here," he sneered, "I broke you out of Asmodeus' jail."

"Then you tried to kill me and take my grace!" cried Cas. Undeterred by his obvious pain, Cas' snark was on point and Dean found himself smiling despite the circumstances.

"Yeah, well I needed it!" Lucifer pouted, still acting like the put-upon paragon. Then his expression changed, and hatred slid onto his face.

"Let's not forget Sammy here," he waggled his blade at Sam. "I brought him back from the dead, saved him from those freak vamps, and he fucking left me behind!" he roared the last in fury. Eyes blazing red, he took a step towards Sam, oozing a terrifying celestial animosity. Sam was standing now, pale but ready to face the threat even weaponless. Ignoring the pain in his arm, his swollen throat and the various bruises littering his body, Dean scrambled to his feet. He also didn't have a weapon, but there was no way in hell he was going to let Lucifer near Sam again.

Throwing himself in front of his brother, Dean ducked under Lucifer's vicious slash and drove his shoulder into the Devil's gut with his best tackle. They both tumbled to the ground even as he heard Sam shout his name. Lucifer's elbow connected with his face and Dean saw stars, dazed by the blow. He felt Sam's hand grip his left arm, to try and pull him outside of Lucifer's range. But the archangel wrapped his fingers around Dean's broken wrist and twisted, squeezing a cry of torment out of him that he couldn't suppress. Sam kicked at Lucifer, earning a brutal slice across his calf for his efforts. Still, Sam wouldn't let go and Dean found himself the rope in a tug of war, unable to do much to help as he fought to stay conscious. With a wicked jerk, Lucifer wrenched on his arm, yanking him out of Sam's grip. Dean felt his shoulder pop out of its socket, the red-hot anguish shorting out his vision for a second. Just when he thought his arm would rip off completely, a golden light lifted him. For a moment, he was suspended, hovering in a wave of Jack's power, then he flew backwards, slamming into the unforgiving steel post. There was a horrible crack and he felt something shift inside him, then he fell to the floor like a sack of rocks. Agony like he'd seldom felt before sparked through him, setting his nerves on fire and making him jerk and tremble. As his body short circuited, his last thought was for Sam, before it shut down completely and dragged him into darkness.

xxxxxx

He became aware of the brilliant light first. Although his eyes were closed, it was strong enough to tint the inside of Dean's eyelids bright red and drive a spike of pain through his foggy brain. Shaking his head didn't do much to clear his daze, but it awoke every ache in his body, as well as a frightening numbness. He was still face down where he'd fallen so he forced himself to run through a mental triage of his injuries. Not surprisingly, he was in rough shape. Breathing through his ravaged throat was difficult, his left shoulder was out of its socket and his right wrist was badly broken and swollen. Plus, he was almost sure that he had a few cracked ribs. But those were familiar injuries. What was more alarming was the blank feeling when he tried to move his legs.

It was like they weren't even attached, and he couldn't help looking down to confirm his limbs were still there. Just moving his head to scan down the length of his own body almost caused him to black out again, but Dean fought it off. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but he pushed his fear and pain aside. Where was Sam? Gingerly he scouted around for his brother, trying to will away the spotty after-images that blurred his vision. A few feet away, Sam was on his knees, one arm up protecting his eyes. Sammy was blinking and staring with a look of awe and happiness on his face that was completely out of place with the situation they had been in. Lifting his stiff neck to follow Sam's gaze hurt, but Dean carefully adjusted to see what was going on.

Sam was looking at Lucifer's body which was little more than a smoking heap in front of the library stairs. From this angle it was difficult to see, but the imprint of huge wings was blackening the concrete floor and opposing wall. Jack was kneeling in front of the smoldering body with his head bowed. At first Dean thought his vision was still blurred, but he realized that the kid was actually generating waves of power that visibly pulsed and shimmered in the air like heat off hot asphalt. Jack had an actual aura, a golden luminosity that clung to his skin. Dean tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

"No!" Cas' call held a note of panic. Wide eyed Sam scrambled to his feet, snatched up a nearby angel blade and lurched out of view to help their friend. Cas had been propped against the wall behind him, but Dean couldn't see what was happening. He couldn't turn his head enough to see and with both arms out of commission he couldn't leverage himself to his knees. Even his voice was shot, his throat so ragged that he could barely swallow much less talk. He could hear the struggle behind him, and he practically held his breath as he tried to figure out what was going on.

There was the ugly sound of a fist striking bone and then his brother tumbled back into view, skidding past Dean's head to land on his ass a few feet away. There was blood dripping from Sam's nose and his right eye was starting to swell. More concerning was the dazed look in Sam's eyes and the way he swayed in place rather than bouncing back to his feet. The kid undoubtedly had his bell rung pretty good.

"Sam!" Dean called, but the raspy word was barely a whisper. Then, black trench coat billowing, Michael loomed above him. If he'd been able to move, Dean would have snagged his legs and brought the damn halo to the ground. Instead, he could only watch while the archangel stepped over him like he was nothing, no more than a pebble in his path. Michael roughly grabbed the collar of Sam's shirt.

"I told you, you cannot run from me. This world and everything in it is mine." Michael said zealously. Sam grasped at the fist at his neck, but Michael brutally shoved him onto his back, following Sam down to crouch above him. Then, in one inhumanly smooth motion, the archangel produced an angel blade and drove it deep into Sam's chest.

"No!" Dean screamed in horror, terror pulsing through him and giving him strength. The archangel spared Dean a merciless glance, then stood, leaving the grisly blade quivering faintly where it pinned Sam to the floor. Sam gasped, back arching slightly as he clutched bonelessly at the weapon protruding from his chest. Blood began to seep from underneath him in a rivulet of red. Ignoring his physical pain, Dean reached out with his hand. Broken wrist forgotten, he had to get to Sam! His baby brother was dying right in front of him, and he had to get to him. But he could only force his broken body to move a few inches.

Sam coughed once, bloody spittle geysering up onto his face. Sam's hand fell uselessly from his chest, flopping in Dean's direction and with a last, massive effort, Dean was able to lurch forward just enough to touch Sam's curled fingertips with his own. At that contact, Sam rolled his head towards Dean who was watching helplessly in disbelief. Their eyes met and locked. Their entire lifetime passed between them in silent communion, then Sam's lip twitched into the ghost of a smile, the light slowly faded from his hazel eyes, and he was gone.