A/N: ^.^ I like Dean's singing, really. Hehe. This drabble might become part of a series, who knows. (Cause can I really leave Dean like this?)
Disclaimer: If I owned them, we would never get any work done…
Sam had heard plenty of terrifying things in his life- Jessica's burning screams. "Time of Death 10:41." "One year."
Had been forced to endure his brother's pubescent rendition of 'The Impossible Dream' when the 8th grade preformed 'Man of La Mancha.'
Dean was lying where he had landed in the ditch- eyes open and conscious, though not moving a muscle. The controlled panic on his brother's face made Sam's spine ice over, stomach sinking as he knelt beside.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, trepidation straining his voice. Probably another thing he didn't want to hear.
"Sam, I can't feel my legs."