( Story after the cut... )
Sam finished tying his shoes then left the motel room, locking the door behind him and pocketing the key. Dean and Chloe had taken the Impala leaving Sam to walk, but he didn’t mind. The town really was small, and it was only a few blocks to the city park where the festival was being held. He ambled down the sidewalk, pausing here and there to stare into shop windows, but there was nothing unusual to see, nothing he hadn’t seen in similar small towns across the country.
It was late morning, and there were others on the sidewalks, some making their way to the festival just as Sam was, but most of the population seemed to have already passed through the area, and it was nice to stroll in the sunlight and be able to think without interruption. He laughed to himself, remembering Dean’s leering cheerfulness at going on a picnic with Chloe. Clearly “picnic” was code for “screw our brains out” and Sam appreciated that they were taking it elsewhere. He had expected to put up with them being intimate in the motel room; after all, it was Dean, and Sam had planned to let it go with a token complaint, as long as it didn’t go too far. But that hadn’t happened, and he knew Chloe had to be the reason why. She was clearly doing her best to fit in without pushing Sam out, refusing to take the front seat in the Impala, for example, and he appreciated her efforts. She was good for Dean, and he had…calmed…somewhat since they had become attached, although Sam grinned a bit at using the word calm to describe Dean. He was still the protective big brother, overprotective in Sam’s opinion, but that protectiveness now seemed shared between Sam and Chloe, which gave Sam a bit of relief. He still flirted; Sam was pretty sure flirting came as natural to Dean as breathing, but not with the same goal as before. Sam had wondered how Chloe would react, but she was more amused than anything at other women’s reactions to Dean, and never seemed anything other than confident in Dean’s attachment to her. Sam had begun to hope that their bond would continue to grow, and maybe help Dean to realize there were other options available to him besides throwing himself into hunting and waiting for the job that would eventually go bad.
Sam entered the park, wandering through the trees, stopping here and there to listen to a few guitarists and small bands playing their music. One of the bands included a woman enthusiastically playing a tambourine. Sam noticed the band was selling their music albums to onlookers and snorted. He wished, not for the first time, that the Impala had a CD player; having one of these turned on and cranked up when Dean started the car would’ve made a great prank.
He browsed through the food vendors; deep fried everything appeared to be on the menu. Even deep fried Oreos; Sam grimaced at the thought, but he knew Dean would have been in heaven, ordering one of everything. He finally chose what he thought was the lesser of all evils, a corn dog, finishing it as he walked through the trees toward the arts and crafts area. All of the local artisans appeared to be out selling their wares; hand carved wood figurines and chimes, twisted metal lawn decorations, and beadwork stands abounded. There was even a henna tattoo stand, and he paused to watch as an older Asian woman used a small brush to paint a symbol on the back of a younger woman’s neck. It was the symbol that caught his eye, and he watched as the woman worked, and a pentagram decorated with vines was completed. The younger woman turned around, smiling and thanking the artist, her eyes lifting to notice Sam standing close by. He ducked his head a little and dropped his eyes, embarrassed to be caught staring. He then startled a little when, after she finished paying, she stepped in his direction, smiling.
“You gonna get one?” she asked.
“Uh, no, I was just watching. Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”
“It’s alright. I just thought I’d try out the henna before getting the real thing. See if I like it.” She was still smiling up at him, clearly interested, and Sam was torn between interest (she was attractive) and apprehension (the last time he’d been interested, it hadn’t gone well). So he fell back on what he knew best; treat it like a job, and act his way through it.
He smiled back at her, in a friendly way. “That’s a pentagram, right? With vines around it? Isn’t that a symbol for protection?”
She nodded. “Yeah, my mom’s a Wiccan, and I dabble in it a little. I was thinking a tattoo might be nice to have, so why not get something that’s both pretty and useful?” She arched her neck, giving him a good view of the symbol underneath her short, dark hair, cutting her eyes up to see if he was looking.
He was, thoughtfully. He remembered drawing a similar symbol on the trunk of the Impala, over Dean’s protests, in order to protect the contents. It hadn’t occurred to him that they could possibly do the same for their bodies. They each had a charm Bobby had given them to ward off possession, even Chloe, but charms could be lost. A tattoo was permanent, and would make possession a nonissue for the rest of their lives. He decided he’d call Bobby and check with him, then talk to Dean.
He looked from the symbol back to the girl’s face; she was still smiling, but a little less certainly, clearly having twigged that she had lost his attention for a moment. He smiled at her again. “I think you made a good choice.”
“Yeah?” she asked, brightening. “So, do you live around here or just visiting for the festival?”
“Just visiting. Listen, I have to go, I have to…meet someone. Good luck with your tattoo.” He backed away quickly, before she could protest. Waving his hand at her, he turned and began walking back through the festival, in the direction of the motel. After a moment he turned to glance back, and saw that she was walking in the opposite direction. He sighed to himself, a little. She really had been kind of cute.
---------------------------------------------------
It was late afternoon when Chloe and Dean returned to the motel room. Sam was sitting at the table reading through the newspaper, looking for another job, when they entered. He grinned when Chloe met his eyes smiling, but with a slight blush on her cheeks. Dean looked pleased with himself and the world.
“So Sammy, how was the festival?”
“It was fine. Listen, Dean, I’ve been thinking…”
“Oh, God.”
Sam huffed a little but continued. “I think we should get tattoos.”
Dean paused as he crossed through the room and looked at Sam. “Dude, I am not getting matching butterflies with you.”
Sam rolled his eyes and held up his wrist with the charm dangling from his bracelet. “I think we should get the protection symbol tattooed on our skin. Then we’d never have to worry about being possessed again. I talked to Bobby, he thinks it’s a good idea.”
Dean sat down on the bed, contemplating Sam’s words. “I don’t know, Dad always said no identifying marks if we could help it.”
“Dean, the FBI already knows what we look like. A tattoo isn’t going to make a difference. Besides, we can get it somewhere that will be covered by our clothes.”
Chloe grinned at Dean. “I can suggest a place.”
Dean smirked back. “You were all over me today, I’ll bet you know exactly where it would look best. I mean, the view you had from my…”
“Dean, I said no details, remember?” Sam said, wincing.
Chloe laughed and sat down on the bed next to Dean, leaning in for a quick kiss. “So when are you going to get them?”
Sam looked over at her. “Not just us, Chloe. You should get one, too.”
Chloe started shaking her head. “Oh, no. I don’t do needles.”
Dean smiled at her, snaking an arm around her waist. “Chloe…”
Chloe jumped off the bed and away from him. “Nope, not gonna happen. I’m happy with the charm.”
“Yeah, but the charm could fall off, get lost, or get pulled off in a fight. This way, we’d never have to worry,” Sam reasoned.
“C’mon Chloe, it won’t be so bad.” Dean said.
Chloe snorted. “Right. It wasn’t so bad when you stitched my head back together either, except for, you know, the pain.”
“Well, that was to keep you, you know, alive. So’s this,” Dean answered. He suddenly grinned. “I can get you drunk first, if it helps.” He just laughed when she shot him a death glare.
“We’ll go somewhere reputable, I’ll look around. It may take a while to find the place, so there’s plenty of time to think about it. Just think about it, okay Chloe?” Sam asked.
She looked at him unhappily. “I’ll think about it,” she answered grudgingly, then picked up one of her bags. “I’m taking a shower.” The brothers watched as she walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
Dean looked back at Sam. “Man, I’m glad we didn’t talk about this until after our picnic,” he grinned, and Sam snorted.
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