Dean nearly flinched when she touched his cheek, leaning into her palm with his eyes closed.  He listened to her explain away both the one thing he knew for certain in life, but also his one biggest fear: dying violently as a hunter…alone.  As she spoke, his heart fluttered.  He had never had anyone in his corner.  He was the rock.  He was the foundation that Sammy’s personality was built on, and from the day he turned four years old, he was on his own.  His emotions were his own.  His reactions were his own.  Having someone to shoulder some of that weight was completely foreign.

Opening his eyes, he continued nuzzling into her hand as he sighed, “Chances are, for someone like me, I die bloody.  And then what does that leave you?  My car?  I mean, what would you do if I died?”

As he asked the question, he held now ill will in the tears that were starting to form in his eyes, as a lot of the weight from the past few days crept into them.  Maybe it was because he was relaxed, but he felt the need to get some things off his chest.

“Because I can tell you what I would do.  I would do exactly what I have done for the past few years.  I would go insane…I would chase ghosts, and I would not rest until I could get you back here.”, he muttered, his lip quivering, “And that’s not something I’m prepared to do again, honestly.  When I think about settling down, I think about the fact that no matter where I am, or who I’m with…I’m the poison. I’m the bad luck.”