The slender knife drew Lucifer's dread power like a fragile church spire draws pure, white lightning.
His wrath blasted the bloodied stiletto from Dean's trembling hand, shattering the brittle blade, driving its unholy shrapnel deep into his shrinking flesh, corrupting as it tore and wasted.
The remnants of the ruined instrument of final redemption embedded to the hilt in the hunter's side, loosing a crimson tide as his screams of agony and despair rent the air.
In the darkness, Sam writhed in the cover of the shadows, the weight of his guilt obliterating the last warm vestiges of his heart.