Obviously, the explosion at Archer's home brought a lot of attention from around the town. If I hadn't been in shock I would have waited on the lawn for those coven witches to show their faces. I would have waited and prepared every single spell I had in my pocket. If regular townsfolk showed up first, they would see a mad woman chanting in a burning yard...

I wouldn't care what they thought. I would have had murder on my mind.

I still do have murder on my mind. Screw the five stages of grieving. I've gone through each of them several times in random orders. There is no explanation to how I feel, or how I've felt since I became the last living member of my old coven.

After rescuing me from the house, Nessie made me wait, patiently, as she parked the car around the corner. We weren't done. Even she, immediately following the presumed death of Archer, wanted blood. Everything the coven had done was psychotic.

We watched as a known member of the evil coven walked along the road towards the blaring sirens and yelling emergency service crews. Neighbors were out in their pyjamas and bath robes, trying to understand how a house had exploded in a thousand colours while they were all asleep. They tried to understand why, and who caused it, and what they could do to be heroes.

I've had that feeling. I've tried to be a hero.

When that witch laughed and left the scene, swinging her hips and flipping her hair, I shook my head. I was still in shock, but I knew what had to be done.

"Shall we?" I remember saying to Nessie. That's all it took for her to follow me out of the car. We grabbed some bags from the trunk before silently following our best lead to our enemies.

Archer had known where they camped. Archer could have brought us to the pet supply store just a couple of blocks from his home. We watched the witch unlock the front door and check her surroundings before walking in. It was obvious.

I admit, Nessie and myself were far from prepared to take on a full coven. I also admit that if we hadn't been so fucking angry that we would have planned better, and maybe even called in some friends. It didn't cross my mind as I threw a hexed flash bomb through the front window.

An alarm went off, loud and shrill. We didn't hesitate. Nessie and I were the perfect team. We didn't say a word. We knew each other's strengths, even if we hadn't practiced magic together in a very long time.

I knew that she would stand back and use area affecting magic. She would cast lightning circles and throw confusion fog.

I wanted to attack each of the witches personally. I wanted to feel whatever I cast at them as it ripped them apart.

I did. I felt every strike as though I'd clawed at their flesh with my bare hands. The spurts of blood seeped into my skin and clothes. I swear, I unleashed whatever fucking ancient bullshit those gods had placed in me. Golden glowing eyes and all. I was blinded by power, but I could see everything so much clearer. It was like when you're underwater and you know you're not seeing straight, but everything is so clear and beautiful. The rocks are shinier, the sand is softer, the waves are a constant pattern of haze under the bright sun.

I saw everything.

I saw the witches, hidden in their basement. I saw them attacking. I saw them fall one by one, into their own magic and blood.

I saw myself, taking hits left and right that could have killed me if they were an inch this way or that.

I saw Nessie, hesitating. And where she was looking, into a corner, I saw what made her stop. Archer was chained to the wall, and I hoped he was dead. Over the time it took for us to arrive he'd been tortured more than I'd ever seen. His limbs were bent at odd angles, his skull looked deflated, his fingers were stripped of skin-

Sam here. Dae is with Dean right now.

I never should have made her start this blog. I know it's good for her to talk about what happened, but she is just reliving the experience over and over.

Someone who had been reading the blog called myself and Dean to tell us what was going on with her, and we made a bargain with Crowley so he would tell us where she was.

When we got to the town, Archer's house had already been destroyed. Dae would have just left with Nessie when we arrived. Dean drove around, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. I knew how he felt.

When more explosions went off, we knew that it was our girl. The shop front was destroyed. Kibble and cat litter was everywhere. Burnt DentaStix smell awful.

There was still a fight going on in the basement, evident by yells and blasts of magic that I can't describe the sounds of. We had our guns out, ready to assist. On the stairs we saw the first of the bloodshed. Halfway down, we heard the last scream that we would hear that night. It was Dae.

She was hunched over Nessie, whom Dean and I had never met. In a corner, Archer sat slumped; Dae had undone the chains binding him. She told me it was just cruel to his memory to let him hang there.

Nessie had been killed when she was focused on Archer. Dae saw everything.

Even I can't imagine what that was like for her. The basement was a war-zone. Dae and Nessie had killed several coven members in one night, in revenge for her friends. The way Archer had been tortured and killed, it was obvious that none of the victims were simply put to death.

Dae couldn't do anything to save her old coven. She tried so hard, to the last breath of the last member. I'm conflicted because of how she handled everything. From not telling either Dean or myself, to the way the witches were...torn apart and...somehow their skin boiled and their eyes froze. Whatever Dae and Nessie had done, whatever those witches had seen, was something I never want to believe she could do.

Dean is in denial. He won't admit that Dae did anything wrong at all. He tells me to be thankful that she lived, and I am! I am thankful. What she did... I don't know what to think of her anymore. Of all the evil creature's we've worked with...As much as I care about her, it's impossible to overlook the fact that Dae is, without a doubt, evil. And cruel.

I'm afraid of her.

I can't say any more about it, to this blog or to Dean or Dae. She's mourning, throwing a tantrum now and then that only Dean or wine and cheese seem to be able to calm down. Dean won't let anyone say a thing about what happened. He's scared, too, but not of Dae. He's scared of what happened to her. He's scared that she was almost killed and that he couldn't have done anything about it.

That jerk is in love with her, and it's making him overlook the obvious.

I think I need to talk to Cas about Dae... Something has to be done.

I think Crowley agrees, which is only more frightening.