4.

Dean cleared his throat, and the kid's shoulders slumped even further. Warmth collected underneath the collar of his jacket, and he glanced around, words failing him. His attention strayed for a moment, and he almost wished Sammy were there, being pre-law he would know a way to... work this out, probably. Maybe.

He couldn't even remember his first time, how it felt; how he felt afterwards. It was a no brainer that he'd been younger, by a couple of years at most, and Dean knew he'd been prepared for it, but he still couldn't pull up the memories from the murky corners of his mind; still couldn't find the emotions to try and emphasize.

He needed to say something. He'd probably screw things up, but he needed to say something to the kid.

"It... was easier than I thought to kill a man."

Startled, Dean bobbed his head even as he realized the kid couldn't see him. "It wasn't really a... man, human, whatever, y'know."

A pale hand ran through black hair. "I... But still, I... actually killed him—It, I dunno, and frankly I don't care, but I killed 'em," he breathed, turning to look at Dean, blue eyes shiny. "And it was so freaking easy."

Self-preservation was a human thing to think about; us or them, me or you, but Dean couldn't say that. He'd fuck it up, make the situation worse, so, he bit his tongue.

And, that was when it really hit Dean; that it really hit home that the kid was younger than he ever had been.