"You realize I'm telling him the second we leave, right?" he demanded the second the door was shut.

She took a step to the side; Dean followed suit and they slowly began circling each other, predatory expressions on their faces. "That's up to you. I have a great fondness for free will."

"You don't care?"

"Of course I care," she retorted. "That's why I made him leave. What you choose to do is on your head, Dean. So long he doesn't hear it from me, Sam can know whatever the hell he wants to. He might even find out where babies come from someday."

"What do you know?"

"About where babies come from?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Patience is a virtue, Dean, one you should really look into developing," she responded, aggravatingly calm. "You'll get all sorts of conditions, being so angry all the time. Heart attack, aneurysm, blotchy complexion…"

"Trust me, this is me very patient. What do you know?"

"You're not going to like it," she informed him seriously.

"Tell me anyway."

"What if I say no?"

"You don't really get that option," he told her a bit harshly.

"Everybody gets that option."

He smirked. "Tell me if you even have a future if you don't tell me what you know about Sammy."

"You're not going to like it."

"So you've said. What aren't I gonna like?"

"I don't know anything."

He glared at her. "You know I'll hurt you…" he warned.

"Oh, I know," she concurred with a bit of a smirk. "I also know you'd feel bad about it… this time. If for no other reason then good mystics are so hard to find."

"Cut the crap, Annie," he snapped. "If you want to make me a monster-"

"I'm not making you into anything," she interrupted, speaking deliberately. "You're not listening. I don't know anything. Not a blessed thing. I've got about as much sight as you do." She snorted. "And you probably don't even know what you're having for lunch."

Dean stopped suddenly and looked at her suspiciously. "That's not possible."

"Wish that were true, sugar pie, but I'm in the middle of a dry-spell, so to speak. Although I could probably tell you when you're gonna get chlamydia, but that's just basic deductive reasoning with a man-slut like you." Dean scowled and took a step closer and Faith held up her hands in surrender. "Hitting me's not gonna change the fact I don't know what's gonna happen to Sam."

"Have you even tried?" he demanded angrily, receiving and incredulous look from Faith. "No, Dean," she answered very sarcastically. "I tried looking into someone's future, Saw a bunch of nothing, and thought, 'Gee, that's odd. Haven't seen that before- ever. Well, never mind, it'll probably sort itself out. Why don't I go paint my nails!'"

"You looked into Sam's future and Saw nothing?" he repeated. "Nothing, like he's dead?"
"Nothing like there's a brick wall two inches in front of my face," she explained calmly. "And before you go feeling special, it's not just Sam. It's everything. We're at a crossroads, Dean. A big one. You know that. I've read every text I could get my hands on, and a black out this big, on this scale doesn't happen often."

"What do you mean scale?"

"A lot of people are blocked, I was just lucky enough to be one of the first," she said tiredly. "The coming war is going to change everything depending on who wins, or if it can't be stopped, or…" She took a deep breath. "I don't know a seer who hasn't been about as real as Madame Cleo for weeks now. Until this is over, good luck finding someone who actually knows."

"Sammy still has visions," Dean pointed out. "Lot of others too."

"Yeah, he does," she agreed. "Premonitions that are completely random and uncontrollable. Sam can't actively divine the future, so you wouldn't notice a change there."

"And we know the Demon has plans for him," Dean added. "We just don't know what the plans are."

Faith nodded. "More than likely, Sammy's gonna get a hell of a lot better at my job before this is all over. My advice? Don't encourage it."

"Well… hell."

"I told you you wouldn't like it," she reminded him.

"So you're motives were noble," Dean said grudging after a moment. "You sure you can't See anything?"

"Trust me, I know. I've been able to See since I was four, and it's freaking the hell outta me that I can't."

"How long?" he asked.

She shrugged and said, "Five months or so. Not long after I Saw John."

Dean looked at her oddly. "Dad's been dead longer than five months."

She smirked. "I said I Saw him, Dean. I didn't say we had a nice little visit." Her smirked widened a bit. "That happened before he died."