Another short chapter, but, honestly, I think it's enjoyable.

Thanks again to everyone who's been bothering to review. It really does mean a lot to me that people are actually interested in the story!

Nimble fingers clicked across the keyboard as Sam once again marveled at his own dexterity. Maybe Dean was good for something after all. Without the angel's healing abilities, Sam's body would have succumbed to arthritis years ago, and he wouldn't have been able to run a valid search.

Dean had gone out to try and find Angelina, whom he believed to be the culprit, telling Sam to stay at home and wait in case she returned. Figuring that was a long-shot, Sammy sat at the computer and tried to make everything right.

There had to be some other legend or lore on how to kill immortals, some way to ease his brother's suffering just a little. The only problem was where to begin.

Sam was so engrossed in the results of his first search and thoughts of his emotionally strained brother spending eternity alone that he didn't hear the front door, which Dean had left unlocked, open. Soft footfalls barely even registered. In fact, the only thing that Sam heard clearly was the cock of the gun.

He spun in the chair to find Angie staring at him with cold black eyes. "Hey there, Psychic Boy," she hissed, pointing the gun at his heart.

"You're-"

"Hardly Heavenly," she replied with a smirk as her finger clutched the trigger and the gun went off. The bullet dug deep into Sam's chest, burning as it neared his heart. He stumbled and fell out of the chair, landing on the hardwood floor and watching helplessly as the demon walked out of the room, leaving him alone to die.

"God," he whispered, "please don't let him be alone." The room faded to black around him as Sam's shoulder blades began to itch.

o0o0o0o

Dean stood in the middle of the field, looking out around him. She hadn't been at her house, and couldn't have gotten too far. The only question remaining was where to search next.

The angel spun quickly as the hollow sound of something heavy being dropped onto the grass met his ears. Angelina was standing behind him, Colt lying at her feet, blue eyes shining, a wicked grin plastered across her face.

"Why?" Dean asked her, taking a step forward.

"He would have ruined everything," she said calmly, "and daddy can't have that."

"What are you talking about?"

"I stole the gun," Angie explained, "and I ran, but I didn't go far. I stayed in the neighborhood, and once I was sure you were gone, I took the Colt and I shot your brother through the heart with it."

The angel's eyes went wide with disbelief. "What?" he asked incredulously, "no, you couldn't have."

"Try to call him," she challenged, "if he's waiting for you to get back about the gun, he'll answer. If he's dead, he won't."

Never taking his eyes from the girl, the hunter pulled out his cell and dialed the house. It rang three times before jumping to the machine. He tried Sam's cell, but got the same response. "He's busy," Dean muttered, "that's all."

"He's dead," Angelina hissed, kicking the Colt across the ground to him, "see for yourself."

Dean grabbed the gun and inspected it. The final bullet was missing. "What did you do with it?" he asked harshly, "where's the last bullet?"

She smirked. "Deep in your brother's heart, I think. I'm not sure, though. Always was a terrible aim."

"You didn't," the angel growled, reality finally starting to sink in, "you couldn't."

"I put him out of his misery," she announced, "and pleased my father. I did the right thing."

The angel's only response to that was to lunge toward her, flapping his wings for a little extra speed, his arms outstretched.

Dean's hands closed around her throat and began to glow as Angelina writhed in his grip. Panic was written across her rapidly paling face as she fought against her attacker. Dean wasn't about to give in, though, and tightened his hold on the other immortal.

"You bitch," he hissed, "you killed him. You stole it and you killed him."

Angie opened her mouth to speak, but only hoarse choking sounds came out as her lips began to go noticeably blue and her eyes rolled back into her head.

Dean, though, refused to let go. He was smarter than that.

Suddenly, Angie's head snapped back and her mouth opened wide. She screamed, a primal, animal sound that was abruptly cut off by the stream of black vapor that came pouring forth from between her lips.

Dean started and backed away as the demon made its leave, dissipating into the sky and leaving its host's body, broken, beaten, and dead with two raw, boiling handprints on her neck.

"Shit," Dean muttered as the whole situation hit him full-force. She'd been possessed, Sam was dead, and now he was alone. Totally alone.

He staggered away from the useless Colt and Angelina's body, not really sure of where he was going, just knowing that he needed to get away for a while.