A/N: Happy birthday SalchanTheWitch!
Dean hated witches. Sneaky bitches making maggots with baby bones. Enough said. They found a coven near the deaths. There was no question. Burn witch, burn.
Coven, yes. Cannibalistic baby eaters? No. Just what he needed, more grey. It wasn't witches, but something was killing. He'd found it too late.
Across the field, it attacked Sam. Dean sprinted towards his fallen brother, but it was too far. In the moonlight he saw her. The witch's hand rose, white light shielding Sam.
When they left town she had his gratitude and he had her phone number. Witches could be very good.