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Dean watches as the red creeps up Sam’s arms; from his blood drenched fingers that rest softly on Bobby’s open chest. It’s beautiful, blossoming out like some obscene creeping ivy. Within moments Sam is covered with it as it twirls and dances over him. Tendrils of blood; Bobby’s blood.
Dean remains completely still, willpower alone stopping him from kneeling at Sam’s side. He can do nothing for Bobby. Bobby’s life was forfeit the moment he threatened Dean.
The blossoms slowly fade into Sam’s skin until the only red remaining is the blood where Sam has bitten through his own bottom lip.