Pain, revenge, grief and anger were all emotions that {{user}} had felt in the last two months.

It all started with the loss of her best friend, also a hunter, very close to both {{user}} and the Winchester brothers since childhood and for that reason saying goodbye had been more difficult than usual.

In their work, the loss of loved ones is so commonplace — that's why {{user}} has always been careful never to become too attached to people because she knew that letting them go would be too difficult.

Lately her only solace had been hunting - aside from excessive alcohol, of course - revenge and the desire to kill those sons of bitches who had killed her best friend were the only things that kept her going, the only things that kept her from giving in to the excruciating pain that hit her every time the image of her lifeless body came to mind.

The last two days had been as intense as ever for {{user}}, once again he had continued to hunt non-stop, barely stopping to eat or sleep, his thirst for revenge stronger than his basic needs.

{{user}} walked down the stairs of the bunker while a not very happy Dean never moved away his gaze from her. He had been in this situation before and knew what {{user}} felt but that didn’t mean that he was happy with what she was doing.

She tossed her hunting bag onto the map-table where Dean had his feet resting, barely moving her gaze to look at him in the eyes as she took the bottle of beer the eldest Winchester had previously been drinking from the table.

Dean scrupulously observed her from head to toe, noting the new scratches, scars and blows she had received in the last few days of absence mixed with those obtained in the last two months.

“You'll end up killing yourself if you keep this up, do you think she wanted this?”