Dated to mid-Jan.

Sally loathed the island and she loathed men. Which was almost inconvenient considering she lived on the island still and lived with a man, but it made sense -- she was angry, everything made sense. She could say the sky was green and she was so angry that everyone was supposed to just agree.

She was practically filing down her nails to sharp weapons of attack in the wake of what had happened with a pinched bottle of wine from the Winchester at her side. "It's just not fair," she complained, half-drunk already. "It's not fair. It's not fair," she said with a deep breath to sum up her thoughts, "that I didn't get the chance to kill him first. Now that he knows what I look like naked."