"D-Dean," Sam said, shaking Dean a little. "Dean, come on man." He shook Dean again. Nothing. Sam's lip trembled and he clutched onto Dean's jacket. "D-Dea… Please…"
But Dean wasn't moving, his eyes were staring at the ceiling, no more light in his eyes. Blood was running down his mouth, there were gashes in his stomach spouting blood, and he wasn't moving.
"D-Dean don't you d-do this to me," Sam pleaded, tears running down his cheeks and he gasped for breath. "You told me you would s-stay. Y-you promised m-me, Dean…"
Sam held into his bothers jacket and lowered his head and sobbed. He shouted out into the room, he screamed Dean's name, begging him to come back. That he'll be good, that he'll stay, just come back.
Finally, after Sam had cried himself out, he found himself backed up against the wall opposite Dean's body. He had his knees up to his chest and he was hugging them. He didn't know when it had happened, but the room was suddenly trashed. He didn't care. Nothing mattered. Everything he ever cared about was lying on the floor in a pool of blood.
Slowly he crawled over to Dean's body and put his hand into Dean's pocket to take out Dean's phone. He flipped it open and wiped away a drop of blood, tears threatening to break the surface again. He dialed Bobby's number and he picked up. "Boy, where are you," Bobby said, but Sam choked up and couldn't answer. "Dean…?" Bobby said after a minute, "…Sam."
"B-Bobby…" Sam said, barely a hoarse whisper and he broke down again. Bobby slowly realized what had happened. Sam heard him talking, trying to soothe him, but nothing Bobby said made Sam feel even the slightest bit okay.
Finally, Sam went silent and Bobby spoke softly to him, voice gruff, as if he had shed his own tears. "Son, Sam… Listen here, I'm coming. Okay, Sam, I'm coming, just… hold on Sam." The line went dead and Sam let go of the phone, letting it drop to the floor. Slowly he turned around and looked at Dean, still staring up to the ceiling, somehow looking peaceful although he was covered in blood.
Sam's heart ached at the sight, but he slid up to his head and stroked Dean's cheek with his fingers. He tore a little bit of his own t-shirt off. He licked it a little and began to wipe the blood from Dean's mouth. As he did it, he began to sing softly to Dean. he didn't care how stupid Dean might have thought it would be, he didn't care that his hands were covered in blood, he didn't care that Bobby arrived, he didn't care that he was crying again; he just didn't care.
Bobby knelt down beside Sam and he reached out and held Sam's shoulder. "Sam…" he began, but the wind was knocked out of him as Sam crashed into him, holding onto Bobby's shirt.
Bobby put his arms around Sam softly and stroked his hair. "Awh, Sam… I-Its gonna be okay, son," he said, but he knew that it wasn't going to be okay. Sam needed Dean in his life. Dean was Sam's constant, keeping Sam together. He knew everything that was going on with them, but he didn't say anything. He knew most people wouldn't approve, but in Bobby's opinion, they could stick it where the sun shined.
He held onto Sam, sobbing again and a stray tear left him.
Sam would never be the same, and Bobby couldn't do anything about it.