Me and my brother were talking to each other,
'bout what makes a man a man.
Was it brain or brawn, or the month you were born,
we just couldn't understand

So me and my brother borrowed money from Mother.
We knew what we had to do.
We went downstairs, past the barber and gymnasium,
and got our arms tattooed

Welcome to my life, tattoo.
We've a long time together, me and you.
I expect I'll regret you.
But the skin graft man won't get you.
You'll be there when I die,
tattoo

The Impala roared down I-94. They were just outside Madison, Wisconsin and Sam's knees were numb. He shifted on the leather seat of the Impala and felt a small crick in his spine give way with a pop. Dean had been driving for six hours already and they still had three more to go until they got to Chicago.

God knew why they were going all the way there for this.

"Remind me again why we have to drive all the way to Chicago. I was kind of hoping we could go somewhere closer to Bobby's. There wasn't anywhere we could go?" Sam questioned, having to speak a bit louder over the classic rock that was blasting through the Impala's speakers. Sioux Falls wasn't the best place for what they wanted, but surely there was someone closer who could do the job. The sun was starting to rise and illuminate the road ahead of them. They had left Bobby's late into the night, mainly at Sam's urging. Meg's intrusion in their lives had rattled him, it seemed, and Dean had no issue hitting the road after receiving the amulets from their old friend. Sam had a decent idea with those amulets and Dean was itching to make their affects permanent. The front wheels of the car would hit Chicago city limits no later than early afternoon at the speed the Impala was going.

Dean shook his head. "No. Bobby said she was the best and has experience with Hunters. No questions asked and she takes cash. That's all I need." Dean wasn't surprised when Cheap Trick was the only sound in the car after that. A smug smirk found his lips and Dean became the winner of the conversation for the time being.

It was nice to know he could be right every so often and overrule the logic of his college graduate brother once in a while.

"Fine. Just wake me up when we get there."

…

"And you both want the same thing, in the same place?" The redhead behind the counter asked, looking over her black glasses at the pair of them. She held Dean's amulet in a manicured hand, green eyes glancing first at the necklace and then back to the brothers. The nice thing about going to someone that Bobby knew was that they weren't going to question the design. It was obviously occult-ish in design and Dean didn't need anyone thinking he was some Wiccan wannabe with a taste for the supernatural.

"Yeah. In plain black, probably about four or so inches big. Right here…" Dean pointed to a spot nearly right over his heart, but trailed off as the young woman began to smirk. Her eyes darted between the brothers once more and Sam sighed.

"We're not like that. We're-" He stated, looking at the obviously confused Dean. She held up her free hand and gave a small laugh, cutting him off.

"Whatever. I tattoo whoever pays me, alternative lifestyle or otherwise." And it was those words that made the light bulb in Dean's head come to life. She thought…

Did they really give off that vibe?

"No, really… we're brothers."

"Whatever you wanna call it, love birds. C'mon in the back and I'll get everything set up."

…

"Ow! Mother fu…"

"Shut up, Sam and deal with it. You've been in worse pain." Dean chided, rolling his eyes slightly at how big of a baby his brother was being beneath the tattoo needle. Granted, Dean didn't have any other tattoos, so he wouldn't know the stinging pain of the needle. Surprising, wasn't it? But a reason just never came up to get one. There were far too many things Dean wanted to permanently forget and not nearly enough to be constantly reminded of for the rest of his life to get one. He had enough scars to remind him of the scuffles over his entire Hunting career and didn't need a tattoo to complete the story.

It was better to forget.

"This is why you volunteered me to go first, wasn't it?" Sam accused, dark eyes flashing at Dean from the chair he was leaning back in.

"Enough, the both of you. Christ, Bobby wasn't kidding when he said you both bicker." The tattoo artist scolded. Her name turned out to be Jane and she seemed to be enjoying the bickering if Dean could read the smirk on her lips properly. And while she seemed focused on her work, Dean could also tell she was probably enjoying Sam being shirtless as well.

Sam pouted slightly at being yelled at and Dean merely leaned back in his folding chair, eyes darting around the portion of the shop they were sitting in. The whole place wasn't too big, probably about the size of Bobby's living room, but it was wallpapered with tattoo designs, a few awards and the usual medical warning labels and licenses that came with the job.

"Do you do this sort of work often?" Sam questioned, but he seemed hesitant to out them as Hunters even if Jane claimed to know Bobby and what he was all about. She gave a small laugh and shrugged as she took a paper towel to clean off excess ink from the design on Sam's chest.

"You mean tattooing anti-possession spells on Hunters? Well you guys aren't the first ones to think of it, but Hunters are definitely not my main category of clientele if that's what you're asking." The needle was dipped into a cup of black ink, the buzzing filling up the room once more as it made contact with Sam's skin again. "Bobby generally sends them my way and in return, he gets the latest gossip."

The thought of Bobby chattering over one of his many phones in his kitchen made both Dean and Sam smile. Bobby Singer was an odd man at times and they wouldn't put it past him to want to get information out of anyone he could. Tattoo artists were probably like the hair stylists of Hunters. Everyone talked and gossiped to them without censorship, especially when the artist knew about what they were hunting.

"How do you know Bobby?" It was Dean's turn to question the artist as he leaned forward, forearms balanced on his knees. She seemed to be about Sam's age, although she definitely didn't seem to be the college-going type. But what did Dean know? Maybe there were plenty of tattooed and pierced students these days. Jane had colorful tattoos snaking up and down both arms and he could see some peaking out from under her collar and beginning to make their way up her neck.

She didn't seem like the type to hang out with Bobby. Although some of the designs on her arms were oddly supernatural in origin. He even caught sight of what was surely a devil's trap on her elbow.

"He helped me with a poltergeist problem a few years back. Knew my dad before that." Jane replied, her focus going purely into not screwing up the symbol that was now being permanently etched into Sam's skin. Her voice was a-matter-of-fact and Dean didn't question, but simply nodded as he watched her work.

Soon enough, the conversation gave way to the buzzing of the tattoo gun and both boys let Jane do her job. The symbol was quickly coming to life and already Dean was feeling that anxious need to jump into the chair. Not because he wanted a tattoo for any reason, but the idea of being Meg's meat suit made his stomach turn.

He couldn't imagine what Sammy was feeling at the moment. And at that thought, he glanced up at his brother, who seemed content on watching Jane work. Despite the occasional bit of pain when the needle hit bone, Sam seemed more relaxed than anything as the design took shape and became complete. And once Jane wiped off the last bit of ink and sat back to look at her work, he looked down right relieved. Maybe it was because the obnoxious buzzing of the gun had stopped, or the beestings of pain were finished… but Dean imagined it was for a whole different reason.

Jane turned to Dean and grinned.

"Your turn."

…

The boys had switched places after Jane had covered up Sam's new art with a paper towel and tape and had given him specific instructions on how to care for it. Dean had stripped off his jacket and the pair of thin shirts he was wearing, much to Jane's delight. Although he had to give her credit, she was trying to hide her enjoyment of the sight as best as possible and was attempting to be as professional as she could.

But c'mon, who could blame her? Especially when Dean took off his shirt. Girls swooned. It was what it was.

Her breath was hot as she leaned in close, just as she had with Sam. The tattoo was near his collarbone and Jane placed the hand without the tattoo gun on Dean's other pectoral, almost bracing herself against him.

"You always get this up close and personal with your clients?" He questioned with a slight laugh and caught an eye roll from Sam. He caught a slight flush in the edges of her cheeks as she filled the needle with ink once more and began tracing the design she had transferred to his skin. But after a moment, her jade green eyes flicked up to his face and the needle paused, hovering over the spot she had been working on filling in with dark ink.

"Oh, you have no idea how close and personal I can get with some folks."

…

"And one hundred. Plus tip." Dean smiled slightly, leaning against the counter. He added an additional thirty bucks to the pile and Jane scooped it up and pocketed it without counting. Trustworthy, she was.

Dean could feel the pull of the tape on his skin and the scratch of the paper towel that covered his new body art. Hopefully it would work just as well as the amulet, but even Jane had advised not taking off the necklaces until the tattoos healed and sank into the skin permanently.

"Thanks for your business, boys. Come back when you want something else. And tell Bobby I said hi." She replied with a grin and Sam nodded. Dean knew, that out of the pair of them, his little brother would remember to pass on the message.

"Let us know if that poltergeist comes back." Dean offered before giving a nod and heading out the door. The day had passed quickly while the pair had been under the needle and it was nearly dinnertime. Hazel eyes glanced up and down the street, hoping for somewhere near by to eat. He heard Sam leave the tattoo parlor and let the door swing shut behind them. But instead of finding a diner or even a hot dog stand of some sort, Dean's eyes fell on the nearest newspaper stand and a newspaper in particular.

The headline yelled "Statues in Art Institute Cry Blood".

Dean's grin deepened and he glanced at his brother.

"Up for a job, Sammy? Or are you too sore from that needle to go on today?"