"Sounds like you're a good brother." He's grateful for the contact and smiles a little until Dean follows it up with his question. He winces and reaches up to rub the back of his neck, brow furrowing. He considers shrugging it off, but decides to tell him the truth. Dean can take it. "We lived together in New York, and one day she told me she had to go back to California. When I couldn't get a hold of her, I went to look for her. " He pauses, staring blankly down at the ground. "And I found her in two pieces. Then Stiles and his friend got me arrested for her murder." He laughs humorlessly and looks over at Dean, shrugging a bit. "I was exonerated. Turns out my comatose uncle woke up and killed her for her power, turned Stiles' best friend, and went on a killing spree in the name of revenge. I took him out, and a few months later I showed up here." It feels strange to say it all at once. It sounds like something that happened in a bad movie, not something that he lived. He swallows hard and looks over at Dean, eyes shadowed and sad. "She was all I had left, and I sort of failed miserably at trying to go on without her."