Hi Everyone! So this is not Celise…sorry to disappoint. I'm just her friend who happened to steal her password and promised to hack her fanfic. Anyways, this is the result. I hope you like it, but if you don't please don't go sending hate mail to my bestest friend in the whole world because she is awesome and she doesn't deserve to get flames. Okay, now that that's been cleared up, I was having Kevin feels and I really needed him to be happy and this popped into my head. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or youtube or anything that could possibly make me a millionaire, okay? Okay.
Dean knocks on the door three times… There is no answer. He pauses for a minute and then knocks again…still no noise behind the door. He shrugs; the kid was probably just passed out. He had been up all hours of the night doing who-knows what in the kitchen. Dean pushes the heavy wood door open just a crack, and peeks his head in. If Kevin was sleeping he'd come back later, it wasn't that urg-
The sight he sees stops him in his tracks and his green eyes go wide. He needs to do a double take, just to make sure that he isn't hallucinating. Surely, this must be some sort of spell, or enchantment, or something.
The kid had headphones in his ear, and was jumping around the room in a way that sort of resembled dancing and then again sort of resembled a fish flopping around on dry land.
Dean really didn't know whether he should just stand there, or go and make sure the kid wasn't having a stroke or something. But then Kevin spun quickly and Dean saw the broom he held in his hand, doubling as a microphone and dance partner.
It only took a few seconds before he decided on the right course of action; taking out his phone and pressing record on the camera app. The whole act got better by the second when Kevin began singing, an out-of-tune, wake the dead screeching version of the Fighter. The oversized child had to muffle his laughter with his fist to keep from being heard.
At one particularly high pitched note, Sam walks down the hall. He raises an eyebrow at the noise, and then sees his brother lurking outside the door. "Dean wh-"
He is cut off with a sharp "Shh."
Dean glances through the crack to make sure he hadn't been caught, and then he motions to Sam. "C'mere." He steps back to make room for the behemoth, keeping the phone in his spot.
The look of confusion on Sam's face clears up, and morphs instead to laughter and then just a bit of disdain when he sees the camera. Dean doesn't flinch at the patented bitch-face instead just whispers, "blackmail," with a wink.
The song transitions to a rather angsty Taylor Swift ballad. He tries to squeeze back in between the wall and his brother, to get a better view. Sam places a hand firmly on the top of his brother's head, pushing him back. Dean huffs and elbows him, edging in.
The two, ever the most mature pair, choose to scuffle at this moment, someone's arm hitting the doorframe with a nice, solid thump. That noise alerts Kevin to his audience, and he stops mid-robot, his eyes pop open, and then widen in shock and horror, a blush rises on his cheeks, only for a second before they narrow in anger and well-deserved suspicion.
Everyone freezes. And then they all into action at once.
The two brothers point at each other, not wanting to be the one responsible for the intrusion. Kevin doesn't seem to care who was to blame, he would rather kill the both of them and destroy all evidence of any of this occurring.
Sam and Dean look at each other for an instant, Dean tosses the phone to Sam and they both take off in two separate directions so fast that by the time Kevin charges to the door, they are both disappearing down opposite hallways, their bellowing laughter echoing across the walls. Dean yells, "Looking good Fred Astaire!" in an attempt to provoke Kevin.
"Ugh," Kevin groans, and instead of choosing to pursue either simply plots to get revenge, and starts eliminating possible hiding spots for the phone so that he could retrieve it later.
/././
It is nearly a year and a half-later, almost a year after Kevin's death. The Winchesters had managed to get Sam's body back, but there was no help for the prophet, not yet at least.
Dean was cleaning out the Impala; the glove compartment had gotten particularly crammed with crumpled papers and empty shotgun shells. In the process of dumping the contents of the compartment onto the floor of his baby, a little black phone falls onto the bench seat.
He picks it up, trying to remember how it got there, and then the memory comes back to him slowly. That random afternoon when for once there were tears of joy, and from laughing too hard, and the family had one more member. The day after when the brothers had woken up with pink hair and blue teeth.
The smile on Dean's lips contradicts the tears he has to blink from his eyes, he clenches his jaw. He abandons his task and instead takes the phone with him into the bunker, plugging it in to the charger on the wall.
That's how Sam finds him when he gets back from a supply run. The taller man snaps his fingers in front of his brothers face, "Hey, Dean you there?"
Dean just presses play on the phone and the video of Kevin, looking so young and innocent and just happy starts up. Sam swallows hard.
"Found this, should probably just through it away." He goes to chuck it in the trash can.
Sam fetches it, rescuing the phone from an eternity spent with rotten eggs and sour milk.
"No, keep it. I know just what to do with it."
/././
An hour later, a girl sitting down at her laptop with free time on her hands clicks on the link to a youtube video.
She laughs at the dancing boy, and the loud chuckles of the people behind the camera, who must surely be his family, who probably posted the video to embarrass him.
And then a chill runs down her spine, leaving trails of goosebumps up and down her arms as the video fades to black.
A short message remains stark on the screen.
"Kevin Tran, Advanced Placement. 1993-2013."
A/N: IT GOT REALLY ANGSTY AND I PROMISE YOU THAT WAS NOT WHERE IT WAS HEADED, BUT IT JUST SORT OF HAPPENED. Anyways, thanks for reading.