Tittle: Like Practice
Word Counter: I fed it's unnatural hunger for percision
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: It's never the way we practiced, huh? Life just doesn't play out that way I suppose... I miss you.
The blood was soaked into his clothes and hands. For a minute, he forgot who he was.
He'd never… it was an accident… his brother wasn't supposed to be playing around the cemetery at night…just supposed to stay home.
"Dean, come on." Dad is ordering. Commanding like they'd practiced. Except, it wasn't like they'd planned at all. "Grab Sammy. Get to the car."
He chokes; stumbles to fit I'm and Sorry together. In his heart he knows, he'll just have to get better.
"Dean," a voice floats somewhere beyond his heart, "I'm not a kid anymore… Please… Wake up."