Cara haphazardly throws her clothes into the duffle bag. She's finally ready to leave Boston. After over a week of searching for (and killing) the shapeshifter, she is finally ready to move on. Of course, some of that time was spent searching for her next target. But she'd gotten lucky, and found out that a witch that used to work with Analiese was spotted just outside the city. So, it's time to leave.

She walks over to the closet and opens it, moving the blankets that are hanging over the top shelf to the side. Behind them are pictures of and information about shapeshifters, along with maps of the area. She rips all of these papers from the back wall, shoves them into her open notebook, and then tosses that into her duffle.

Just one more thing.

She walks over to her bed and picks up the gun laying on the bedside table. Then she kneels down and reaches for the shotgun that's underneath the bed. She puts the smaller gun in her bag, and sets the shotgun next to it. She sighs, her hands on her hips as she makes sure that she has everything. She looks around the room, and her eye catches the mirror that hangs over the dresser, looming next to the television.

God, she never gets used to it. Sure, she isn't covered in blood from head to toe (a common look for her after a hunt), but she still looks like Cara. Which means she looks like Analiese. Even though she knows she's in control of her body, for one second---for one split second---she sees her eyes. And they are pools of black, her mouth turning up into a smirk. A smirk that says 'I laughed while your mother begged for her life. While your father choked on his own blood.'

Cara picks up the shotgun and walks over to the mirror. Using the butt of the gun, she slams it into the mirror, the glittering shards raining down around her, cutting at her hands and arms. But she doesn't care.

The image of Analiese is gone.

A nightmare would've been better.

That was the phrase that kept repeating over and over in Cara's head like some sort of sickening pop song - Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter Anightmarewould'vebeenbetter...

Because nightmares were to be expected. After everything that had happened with Analiese, after everything she'd seen, everything her own two hands had done, nightmares were the least of her problems, really.

So after she'd gotten ready for bed, soaking her clothes in the tub to get the blood and dirt out and making sure all of the reflective surfaces in her room were covered, she'd closed her eyes and prepared for the onslaught. The images of her dad choking on his own blood, of Ari wailing uncontrollably.

God, it was so much worse than that.

It was like that game that they used to play when they were little---creating lengthy scenarios of what they were going to be when they grew up, what their lives were going to be like. Ari's were always outrageous---like a skydiving policewoman, or a troll that guarded a bridge, but only on Tuesdays. Cara, of course, was practical, even at a young age; she knew she was going to follow in their parents' footsteps in some way. Well. She thought she knew. Thought she had everything planned out.

When Cara fell asleep, she dreamed of Ari, the woman she should've become. She still had that rebellious streak in her----she was some sort of performance artist, it seemed. Her husband had run up to congratulate her after her performance, their two children---both girls---looking like mini Ari's, but with longer hair. Ari never would get rid of that pixie cut.

And then suddenly, it was like Cara was no longer on the outside looking in. She was a part of the dream. Ari could see her, her imagined brother-in-law, her nieces, could see her. And they were all waving her over, excited to talk to her.

Cara had woken up in a cold sweat.

She was now walking the empty streets on the outskirts of the city, lost in her thoughts.

It’s the end of the world.

Can’t say I’m surprised. It was only a matter of time before all of the seals were broken. People are starting to realize it, too. Not just hunters, but ordinary people. The supernatural world is finally starting to bleed into their world, and they’re getting anxious. Scared. They can feel the final battle brewing.

And I feel guilty. Not the normal guilt, the gnawing and aching associated with what Analiese did---what we did---to my family and to so many other innocent people. No, this guilt is from feeling ready. Excited, almost.

I need this battle. I need the starting point and the ending point. This is it. God vs. Lucifer. Demons vs. angels. There’s not turning back from this. It’s my chance to make amends. So I’m going to send as many of those sons of bitches back to hell that I can.

And eventually, when all is said and done, when the war is over---

I know I’ll be joining them there.

There's nothing to be afraid of when everything you've ever cared about has already been taken from you.

Whatever was left of me was buried with Mom, Dad, and Ari---six feet deep.

It was never about the apocalypse, it was about vengeance.

I was a silent witness to every horrific act.