'You don't have to answer but…how did you end up doing this?'

Sam's voice made me look up from my beer bottle that I was staring into. We were sat on Bobby's porch after dinner. I really liked Sam. We had gone grocery shopping together and made dinner, apparently his brother – who hadn't said a word to me since our conversation in the kitchen and who had spent the evening sat in silence, his brows knitted in thought and occasionally staring at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't finish – was allergic to grocery stores and kitchens.

'My dad and brother' I said quietly. 'They were hunters. Europe, mainly. And when my dad…died…my brother and I moved here. And then he died.'

Bobby rubbed my back and I gave him a smile. He knew what had happened to my family, one of the only people who did.

'I know it's a taboo question but you're…young' Sam went on. I laughed quietly. 'Twenty eight' I said. 'But most days I feel a lot older.'

My eyes flickered over to Dean who was sat in a darkened corner of the porch, staring out at the garden. He looked over suddenly, catching my eyes with his and chewing at the inside of his mouth before looking away with a small sigh. I didn't know what I'd done to upset him, apart from being here, and I couldn't figure what his…problem was.

An hour later I was in my usual room at Bobby's, showered and sat on the bed in an oversized Led Zeppelin t shirt, trying to read.

A knock sounded on the door and I looked up.

'Who is it?'

Silence for a moment and then 'Its Dean'.

I looked down at myself, the t shirt I was wearing with not much else came to my mid thigh. And he'd already seen…me.

'Come in'

He entered slowly, his eyes widening when they settled on me. For a few moments he stood there as if undecided whether to come in or go back the way he'd come. Finally he closed the door and came to sit on the bed beside me, resting his elbows on his knees.

'I'm sorry about your Dad and brother' he said, not looking at me.

'Thanks.'

He let out a sigh and shook his head.

' I hate this life' he said quietly. He raised his head and studied me for a minute before taking my face in his hands and kissing me, making my head spin. When he stopped he pressed another kiss to my hair and stood, making for the door.

'G'night, Irish' he said, not looking at me as he turned the handle.

I spoke before my brain had processed the word.

'Stay'

He paused and let out another low sigh.

'I'm not a…good guy' he said quietly, turning to look at me.

'And everything I touch turns to crap, everyone I care about dies. Can't have that for you, Irish. Something about you makes me…I dunno. But I do know I can't have that. You don't want me anyway. Like I said, I'm not a good guy.'

With that he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

And all of a sudden the emptiness was back.