The blood just trickles, never really does much more than trickle, and he's careful. Every cut is careful. He learned how to do this very quickly, how to control the flow, how to bleed someone just enough to make them sick and weary enough to talk and no more. This isn't that far, never that far... But he's aware that he's using skills he doesn't normally use.

Once it would have frightened him. Now he still feels that calm gentleness, even behind the knife, the feeling that he's guiding someone into something, and when he hears the sob he pauses and looks up. Not concerned. But evaluating.

And goes back to work.

He stops just above Dean's hipbones, pauses again, and straightens up. The whole front of Dean's body is a mess, and he slides a single fingertip through it, attention narrowed to a sharp point as he lifts his finger to Dean's lips and paints the lower one red.