14.
Sam didn't know where Dean was. Didn't know if he was even alive. The angel in front of him was shorter than him, but heavier, a big, bald, black man in a dark suit and a nasty smirk.
"No one was surprised when we found out about you," he sneered. "Tainted, abomination, child of Azazel."
Sam's hazel irises were swallowed by inky darkness. "My father's name," he said in a cold voice. "Was John Winchester."
"That doesn't matter anymore," the angel replied gloatingly, a silver blade sliding down his sleeve into his hand. "You don't matter anymore. No one will complain if I wipe you from existence. You and your brother."
The angel lunged, sword raised high, but Sam was ready. He was a demon. He cheated. He teleported out of the way at the last minute, landing behind the angel, and kicked out the angel's knee. With a bellow of rage, the angel stumbled and tried to spin around, but Sam slammed the Knife into the angel's sword-wrist and twisted. The angel's hand opened involuntarily, and Sam caught the sword as it fell.
The angel's other fist slammed into Sam's chest and he flew backwards, hitting a concrete wall and cracking it, but he kept hold of the sword. As he slumped to the ground, dazed, the angel stalked over to Sam and knelt over him, his face a mask of fury. He reached down and grabbed Sam's head with both hands. Burning agony filled Sam's skull and a scream ripped its way from his throat.
Through the haze of orange fire, Sam could still feel the sword in his hand, cool and tingling with power. With the last of his strength, he lifted his arm and rammed the point of the sword into the underside of the angel's jaw.
After the explosion of angelic Grace, Sam lay panting on the ground, sword still clutched in his hand. When his vision finally cleared and the pain receded, he staggered to his feet. He had to find Dean.