What was unnerving were the eyes. The bloodshot, wide eyes holding a steady gaze at the pair of hands in front of him. Kevin sat at the edge of his bed, rigid, unmoving, for hours, while inside of him, the world was coming crashing down.
For the brothers clad in plaid, the hunt had ended beautifully. They had recovered a critical key to decipher the tablet, but for Kevin, it couldn't have gone worse. Downstairs, an unfair fight was ensuing. Sam and Dean had ganged up on their sister, arguing that time was of the essence, so Kevin should "stow his crap" and get to work, while YN argued the opposite. Of course, she was winning. The argument ended with four feet pounding across the floor, the bunker door slamming shut, and the rumbling noise of the impala as it sped off to the nearest bar.
Through all this, Kevin sat still, staring at his hands.
His hands were not of particular interest. He had all ten fingers (thanks to Cas), and all ten fingernails, which were neatly trimmed. There were no unique markings like moles or scars, nor were they stained from the day's events. They were perfectly normal.
But not to Kevin.
Y/N gingerly climbed the stairs of the bunker, slowly approaching his door. It swung open to reveal a broken, disheveled child, nineteen years of age, who once, not too long ago, dreamt of being president. His clothes and face were splattered with a deep red as the blood began to set into the fabric and dried on his skin.
Quietly, Y/N slipped into the bathroom and ran a clean towel under some warm water. She crept closer to him, towel in hand, frightened for his welfare.
"Kevin?" Her voice fell so quietly she wasn't even sure he heard her. She was inches away from him, staring down at his petrified body. Slowly, she knelt in front of him, until she was looking up at those, fixed, unnerving eyes. She reached up to wash the blood off his face, and as the towel touched his skin, Kevin jumped. His eyes shot up to meet Y/N's, moving for the first time in hours, and then shot straight back down to his hands. They began to quake as the guilt set in. With every twitch of his eyes, his visage cracked further and further, until the insanity that was his mind was painted on his face. Without hesitation, she snapped to action.
"Kevin? It's alright. We're all ok now. You're in the bunker with me, everyone's safe. Kevin, look at me, please," she begged.
Slowly, Kevin's eyes met hers, in which was only one emotion-fear.
"Kevin please, talk to me,"
"I killed her."
His voice was small and fragile, breaking under the heavy weight of the silence in the room.
A small breath escaped her lips as YN perched herself on the edge of the bed next to him. She wove her fingers in between his, covering his palm with her own.
"Yes, you did,"
A choked sob burst out of Kevin, with tears flowing freely down his cheeks, as he recalled his first kill- a demon possessing the body of a six year old girl.
"Shh it's alright. It's going to be ok" Y/N soothed.
"No it's not! How can anything be ok? I killed her Y/N. She was six years old! She had her entire life, and I took that away from her. No YN, I have blood on my hands, and that will never be ok."
Kevin spat out the words, venom dripping from his lips.
His words stung YN like acid, but she urged him to continue releasing all his internalized pains with four words: "Paint me the picture."
Kevin nodded curtly, familiar with the drill. "Dean and Sam were holding off the rest of the demons. You and I were looking for the key, until we had to split up. Then I ran into her..and….and I panicked. I should have exorcised her, I should have called for help, I should have done something….anything...other than what I did." His head hung in shame and his stare fixed on his lap.
Yn slipped off the bed and knelt in front of Kevin once more. She took his hands in hers and whispered, "Kevin, sometimes we have to do bad things to get good results. When that happens, we often forget all the good it's for. Right now, you have a chance to save thousands of lives, and I promise you, if you take it, she won't have died in vain."
Kevin sat in silence.
"Kevin we all make mistakes, and some are much more painful than others, but the faster we move past them, the quicker we can try to make amends," she explained.
No response.
Quietly, Y/N stood up and whispered, "Whatever you decide, I'll be by your side. Until then, I'll be downstairs."
As she turned to leave, Kevin caught her wrist, turning her to face him once more. In his eyes she could see the calm after the storm, yet the grief still lingered.
"YN," he said. "What was her name?"
She gave a sad smile and said, "Her name was Emily."