All right. Here it is. The final chapter. Sorry it took so long to update (stupid homework!).

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, and don't forget to remember that I'm currently in the process of writing a fouth "On Angel's Wings," which I hope to finish eventually :)

Thanks again for all the support!!

The lake stretched out before him, pristine, shining, with a few small waves rippling around here and there. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, wings drooping behind him. There was no release for him. He was trapped.

He could never get attached. Everyone would leave him in the end, everyone would die, and there was nothing Dean could do to save them.

He'd tried to save Sam, but in the end, he couldn't. It was all his own stupid fault. He'd let Angie into the house, he hadn't known she was possessed. He'd left the gun out, had left Sam alone and completely unprotected. Nothing could make that right.

His phone started ringing and he answered it, for lack of anything better to do. The caller id said it was Sam, but Dean knew better. Sam was dead. It was probably whoever had been called after the shot had been fired. Paramedics who had found the body and were calling the first number on speed dial.

"Mr. Winchester?" It sounded almost like Sam, only a younger Sam, one who hadn't had the lung problems time had brought. The voice was a little too deep, though, to really be the psychic.

And Sam was dead, so it couldn't be him.

"Yeah."

"There's been an accident. Your grandfather, Samuel, was shot in his house today. I'm sorry."

Dean just nodded. "Same here," he muttered sadly, flipping the phone shut and sighing loudly as small waves rolled onto the sandy beach of the lake.

"Bad news?" a comforting voice from behind him called.

"My brother," Dean answered, not even caring that his wings were out in public, not even trying to place that voice, one he could have sworn that he had heard somewhere before, just content to stare out over the water and try not to think.

"What happened?"

"He was shot. It was someone we thought we could trust."

"I see. You miss him?"

"He was all I had," Dean replied with a sad smile, "I just wish I could have saved him. I wish I had been there. If I could just see him one more time, talk to him again…"

His phone started to ring. 'Sam' was calling again. He almost didn't answer it, but something told him to anyway. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Turn around." The voice came from the phone and behind him simultaneously, causing Dean to jump. He turned slowly to find Sam standing there, cell phone in hand, smiling at him.

"What the-" Dean started, but stopped as soon as he realized what he was really seeing. Sam looked younger, somewhere in his twenties, perfectly healthy. "How the hell?"

"You know what they say," Sam smiled, "every time a cell rings, an angel gets his wings." He slipped out of the old, long jacket he'd been wearing, revealing a set of large, ashen grey wings.

"No way," Dean breathed, stumbling to his feet for a better look.

"Way," Sam nodded, flapping them a couple of times and lifting about an inch off the ground, "and they work."

"But Angie-"

"Oh, yeah, Angie. She's possessed."

"I kinda figured that out when she puked up a demon." Dean nodded, "but you… she said you were dead."

"I was, technically. I guess someone up there really likes us. I didn't even realize what I'd asked for 'til I stood up fifty years younger with wings."

"You can't die now?"

"Guess not," Sam shrugged, "now you won't have to be alone, at least."

"What about mom and dad and Jess? I thought-"

"They can wait a little," Sam said, "right now, we have bigger problems."

"That's an understatement," Dean scoffed, laughing nervously and finding himself unable to take his eyes off Sam and his new wings.

"Demonic problems," the younger brother clarified, "in my vision it took you 100 years to find the Colt again, but I picked it up in the field where I found Angelina."

Dean nodded. "If I killed her in your first vision, then she didn't take it. Something else was after it?"

"Probably. But why?"

Dean shrugged, a little surprised to find that the shock of finding that his dead brother had sprouted wings and come back to life had faded almost completely. "Memento? Something to use as a trophy?"

"That's what I thought. But what wants it?"

"Angie said her daddy wanted you dead. You know what that means?"

"Ol' Yellow-Eyes is back?"

Dean shook his head. "No. That one didn't want to kill you, it wanted to use you. This is something different."

"You know what we have to do, right?"

"Hunt it down and kill the son of a bitch, what else?"

Sammy nodded. "Yep. Man, our afterlives are weird."

Dean laughed. "Dude, speak for yourself. I never actually died in the first place."

"All right. My afterlife is weird. Your life's just twisted."

"Better."

"Hey, Dean?" Sam began, smiling as he noticed his brother gear up for a chick-flick moment.

"What?"

"Race you to the house!" He took off, wings stirring up dust, leaving Dean just a little amazed at how fast he'd gotten the hang of the whole flying thing.

"You're on, little brother," he whispered, taking off after Sam and into the sunset.

THE END

So, any final opinions?