I'm writing my own stuff at the moment but it's giving me headaches so I took a break and returned to good ole SPN. Just a oneshot on those tats and when they got 'em. Set after BUABS obviously, just after Tall Tales.

"You know where I've always wanted to go?"

Sam rolled his eyes but gave a polite smile to the receptionist as he past the hotel lobby desk, hurrying after Dean who was a few paces ahead.

"Enlighten me."

Dean had an excited grin on his face. They'd just parted with Bobby after the Trickster gig and Dean didn't seem all that disappointed that so far Sam hadn't found any new leads. Quite the contrary. He appeared rather keen to stay in this moderately swanky city hotel and the only help he'd given searching for new cases was to mention that the Playboy Mansion could possibly be haunted- you never know- yet, by the look on his face now, he'd apparently found something to even trump the prospect of Bunnies.

"Dude, Graceland."

As expected, it wasn't on Sam's must-see list, "As in, Elvis?"

Dean shot him a patronizing glare, "Is there another Graceland?"

"Why?"

It appeared the mere question was insulting and Dean looked at him as if he'd grown a third head, "Cause it all stems from the King, man. Seriously, the issue here is, why wouldn't you want to go to Graceland?"

Upon exiting the hotel, giving a mocking tip of his non existent hat to the doorman, Dean had automatically swung a left in the direction of the diner on the corner two streets over. Sam, on the other hand, many counter arguments on the Graceland point already forming in his mind, had veered right.

"Where are you off to?"

Dean stood frowning at him and the younger Winchester backtracked, grabbing his brother by the arm, "Go with me on this, I have something we've gotta do."

Dean made no attempt to move, swatting Sam's hand away, a pained expression on his face as he gazed longingly back in the direction of the diner, "Sammy, I'm...."

"I'll buy you a donut and coffee on the way." Sam cut in, already realizing the cause of his brother's objections - his stomach.

Dean sighed, appearing to contemplate this offer for a moment before he gave a reluctant nod, falling into step next to his brother, "It better be a freaking awesome donut. So, go on then, pray tell, where are you dragging me?"

It was late morning, they tended to sleep in when not working a case and Sam hoped the shop in particular he was after wasn't shut, "I had an idea when I went to get pizza last night."

"Was the answer hidden in the pepperoni?"

They crossed the road, weaving around the back piled traffic, "No, look, about what happened with Meg..."

"Sam, I thought we'd silently agreed that the latest bodysnatching experience was best to leave unmentioned?" Dean's tone was cautiously light, the topic something which to skirt delicately.

"I'm being serious." Sam said patiently, looking as if he was trying hard to keep his tone casual.

"So am I, Sammy." All trace of joking was gone from Dean's voice, and he spoke with a no nonsense firmness, "It wasn't your fault. You didn't kill that guy. That wasn't you behind those puppy dog eyes- need I continue? You see where I'm going with all this?"

"Yeah, sure, fine, whatever. I'm not talking about that...per-se."

Sam appeared rather flippant about the whole thing and Dean's eyebrows arched, "Per-se?"

"She was in me for a whole week, Dean."

Dean's face unwilling arranged itself into a smirk at the turn of phrase and Sam gave a disgusted shake of his head.

"Focus. The point I'm trying to make is that we were sloppy. Me for letting her get to me in the first place, you for not noticing."

Dean came to a stop at the accusation, "Hey, I......"

"We need better protection." Sam stated flatly, eyebrows raised at Dean, arms crossed, daring him to disagree.

"We've got Bobby's pretty necklaces, what more do we need?"

Sam merely cocked an eyebrow and a small staring match then insured, not because they both knew the charms Bobby had given them were temporary, not because Dean felt Sam's point was incorrect, just because the older brother had a hard time admitting they had their flaws.

"Fine." Dean chewed out eventually, hands on his hips, "How, then? What?"

Sam bit his lip, slightly hesitant and Dean had the small suspicion that he wouldn't like whatever his brother would say next.

"I, ah, I walked past this place last night..."

Sam gestured to a shop a few doors down from where they now stood outside a 7-Eleven, it's windows tinted black and a red and blue neon sign hanging above, "I spoke with the owner...."

"Sammy, it's a tattoo parlor."

Dean looked from the establishment in question to his brother, confused and excited at Sam's uncharacteristic interest, "You thinking of getting a tat, little bro?"

Sam blinked, slightly amazed at his brother's density, "Actually," he began slowly, "I was thinking matching. One for me, one for you."

Dean looked perplexed, noting the seriousness of Sam's tone, wondering if he'd gone mad or, speaking of Meg, maybe he was possessed again, "Dude, what are you....."

Sam pulled a folded piece of paper out of his jacket, showing Dean the symbol drawn on it. Dean looked from the ink house, to Sam, to the protection symbol and it all clicked.

"No way in hell."

Sam was now using his infuriatingly patient voice of reason, "It's a good idea, Dean."

"Oh, I'm not arguing that. But it's still a resound no."

"Why?"

"Because, although I go around bearing scars half the time, I do not particularly enjoy pain; especially self infliction which is what a tattoo is."

"So, that's it, huh?" Sam asked deadpan, "You're afraid of needles?"

Dean waved it off, "Oh, give me a break. The point is, you're jumping to the extreme. We have these damn necklaces...." he wrenched the corded pendant from under his shirt, waving it in Sam's face, "these do the trick."

Sam gave an infuriated sigh; unable to comprehend why Dean chose this particular subject to become stubborn on, "Oh, like they could never slip off our necks, huh?"

Dean wagged a finger at his brother's sarcastic tone, "A tattoo isn't permanent either, contrary to popular belief. All someone has to do is burn or cut into our skin and the seal is ruined."

"Well I personally think it's a damn sight safer than having something simply hanging around your neck."

Dean's face still remained firmly closed, Sam giving a tired shake of his head, "Anyway, I mean, what's the big deal?" A smirk played across his features, "Have you seen yourself?"

Dean gave him a quizzical look and Sam snorted, "You've got the muscle car and the leather jacket. Seriously, the tattoo completes the image."

"Shut up."

"Well, all I'm saying dude is that I'm getting one. I leave the rest up to you."

Dean was still glaring at him, so, reaching for his trump card, Sam added, "But when you get jumped by black smoke and try and kill me, it'll be your bad that I won't be around to say I told you so."

He didn't leave time for Dean to rebut, heading off down the sidewalk towards the parlor. Dean stood glaring after his brother for a moment, knowing he'd lost this particular battle, cursing Sam for his underhanded use of Dean's weak spot, Sam himself. Dean wouldn't let anything happen to the kid, would never allow himself to hurt Sam.

"You know you're going to owe me more than a donut by the time this is over." Dean called, walking after his brother.

Sam turned to face him ahead, walking backwards for a few moments, "Yeah, but when these save our lives, you'll owe me."

He pushed open the darkened door, disappearing into the shady establishment.

Dean stared at the door for a moment, glaring at it as if it had caused him a personal disservice. Inside he heard a faint whirring of machinery and he blanched, the sound akin to nails on a chalkboard.

"Maybe I'll take a pass on the donut."

Knowing for sure he would be dragging Sam's protesting ass to Graceland for this, Dean took a breath and pushed through the door, entering the darkened hell hole of, but not limited to; disinfectant, pain, B.O, grubby white singlets and unkempt facial hair.

Fun.