Dean should have seen this coming. Sam's need for blood had only increased since the first drop.
"I'm no killer." Sam muttered. His crimson soaked hand rose to his lips as though by its own accord. He placed a single digit into his mouth and licked off the blood, moaning as the liquid entered.
Dean shivered as he could imagine the iron taste across his tongue so poignantly that it seemed real. He swallowed around the lump in his throat but the taste remained.
The man in front of him claimed innocence but the demon blade lay beside the woman he was crouching over. The knife lay in the puddle of blood that's oozed from the slit in her throat. Blood coated Sam's hands and clothes, marking every place his long fingers had touched. Small dots of it were in his hair. He'd been caught red handed, literally, but he still denied it in a lackadaisical manner.
The blood transferred from the man's finger tips to his tongue and lips; they stained red. The murderer closed his eyes as though the flavor on his tastebuds was as rare as gold. Almost like he'd been deprived of his life source for decades. This was his nectar and heroin rolled into one.
"Sam." Dean, reaching out for his brother, muttered hesitantly. "What've you done?" A frown pulled at his features.
"Done?" He answered in his stupor, "Nothing. Nothing." His eyes were glazed over and clouded.
He smeared the blood across his face, breathing in the scent.
Dean knew this was coming. His baby brother had been struggling mentally for years under the strain but now he'd finally snapped. He had never predicted Sam's breakdown to be quite so violent or blood thirsty.
Sam started shaking and, as though that is what caught his attention, his large hazel eyes glanced down at his giant hands. The tremor was unstoppable; an earthquake. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight before him and the blood. Realisation hit.
"Oh God. Oh God." He moaned out as though in ecstasy. "Help me... please." His voice turned fragile. "Let me go." The tremors overtook his whole frame causing his teeth to chatter. "Let me go."
Dean didn't have to consider it. He knew what to do. This was not something they could fight anymore.
He'd pulled his gun out from his waistband in barely the blink of an eye. In the next millisecond, the gun was aimed towards his brother. His finger twitched over the trigger before pulling it.
Dean pulled away in the Impala moments later. His gun was still warm where it sat in his waistband and tears were still cascading down his cheeks. He didn't glance back as he drove away. He knew he couldn't stand it.
Everything was gone now. Everyone was gone.
