Hello :) just a short piece that I am really not sure where it was born and how it progressed to this.

Sam accidently 'drew' on Baby's seat with a sharpie. We all know how Dean feels about her, so Sam's efforts to hide it are understandable.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, Kansas or anything related to them. I am just an eager fanfic writer who's really sleepy at the moment and still wants to get something done.

This pertains to border on slight crack-ness so I apologize for the poor writing as humor is not really my forte. Other than that, I enjoy writing :)

Please review :)

A regretful look reflected in his doe-like naive eyes as he looked at the stain on the seat.

Oh man…

Dean was going to kill him when he found out that his little brother had violated his Baby with a stick of permanent marker he hadn't bother to stash away properly when he marked their route on the map. Dean had been at the wheel as usual.

Who would have guessed the loose cap would come off and etch indecipherable patterns on the seat of their black steed?

Sam scratched the back of his neck guiltily. How was he going to get it out?

He ruled out bleach and acid. The last thing Baby needs is a patchwork treatment he thought to himself.

He'd tried vinegar, but after rubbing at the tainted area he had an accelerated progression in to almost having a heart attack when the leather around the seat had softened and seemed to have gotten stretchy.

He tossed away the vinegar bottle.

He mentally struck off detergent and alcohol. They wouldn't get the stain out. Not fully.

He discreetly went back to their motel room after picking up the take-out and entered the room as his heartbeat thundered in his ears.

"Hey there you are! Took your time didn't you? I have nearly starved half to death! What took you so long?" Dean ran a marathon of questions as he swung his legs over the bed to the floor and approached the packets Sam had placed on the lone table and had hurriedly gone to the bathroom.

"Sammy?" the older hunter's concerned, slightly worried green eyes followed his brother's hurried hobbling after the younger hunter got a change of clothes and shut himself in the bathroom.

Dean approached the closed door cautiously. When there was no threat of angry bickering or name-calling he gingerly pressed his ear to the door.

Nothing.

He scowled.

"Weird. Little brother being a temperamental bitch again, huh…" he said mostly to himself though he made sure Sam would hear it.

He got more concerned when nearly a minute passed and there was no comeback from the lanky giant.

"Sam?" he tried again, knocking lightly on the door that was starting to feel like a continental divide between him and his brother. "Sammy, is- is everything okay?"

He stopped to press his ear to the door again. He could hear the faucet and some stuff being moved. What the hell…

Deciding to give calling his brother for a rational reply one more chance before he would break down the door, he poised himself to knock on the surface of the chipped and peeling paint of the door when it suddenly opened, revealing a massive grin on his younger brother's face.

Dean thought he should check for signs of insanity… or maybe he had gotten drunk. Sammy had always been a happy drunk…yeah that must be it, Dean thought to himself and nodded to no one in particular to confirm his discovery.

Still grinning like there was no tomorrow, Sam rushed out of the room with something in his hand. Dean thought it looked like a… pen?

Before Dean could ask what was going on, the younger hunter grabbed the motel room key and dashed out before proceeding to lock his brother inside the room.

Dean's hunter instincts and big brother senses went into a full-blown emergency mode as he made a mad lunge for the door but it was too late. He struggled with the lock for a few times before stopping to glare at the closed door. He peeked into the door-eye. Sam was smiling almost like an ecstatic junkie.

"Sam? Sammy! Open the door!" he hissed at the view in his door-eye.

"In a minute Dean, you just stay put okay?" Sam replied in a tone that was… unexplainably happy?

"What?! What in the bejeesus did you drink?!" came the frantic query.

But Sam was already down the length of the hallway and Dean could hear his childlike laugh. He paced for a few times like a flustered rooster before resorting to arm himself. As much as he hated to admit it, his younger brother seemed to have gone slightly lop-sided on his rocker.

Holy water, salt, silver knife. All laid down neatly on the bed as Dean waited in zero patience for the seemingly bonkers younger brother to return.

Before long there were footsteps coming his way and the door gave a definite click. Dean gripped his gun as tightly as he hated to aim the thing at his brother. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

"I can't believe I didn't think of that before…" Sam's relaxed voice could be heard as his hand appeared from behind the door before his face made the entrance.

Dean aimed the gun unwillingly at his brother.

Sam's face flew into a shocked fit as he stopped in his tracks and raised his arms in alarm.

"Whoa, whoa! Dean! Do you know where you are pointing that thing?!"suddenly Sam wasn't smiling anymore.

"I know smartass. Now tell me what's going on!" Dean warned irritably.

"Sheesh… all this over a sharpie…" Sam muttered as he stared at the ceiling tiredly.

"What?" Dean's face twisted on one side in confusion as he tilted it at an angle.

"Come on, I gotta show you something." Sam motioned with his hand, "Dude, stop pointing that thing at me…"

Dean frowned for a moment. It was his brother alright. But one could never be too sure. If there was the slightly chanced he was not his normal self, the older brother conceded to himself and himself only- that Sam had a height and weight advantage.

Still, that puppy eyes and bitch face combo was a sure fire test of truth that Sam always passed.

Sighing in resignation, the older hunter tucked the gun into his waist-band.

"Alright Samantha, lead the way."

Outside, parking lot.

"So what do you think?" Sam asked after he flicked on the tiny lamp above the windscreen in the front side of Baby.

"Of what?" Dean asked warily. He still wasn't sure if his brother was feeling alright.

"The symbols, dude." Sam rolled his eyes.

Dean peered into Baby's interior. There were two devil traps neatly drawn on the spots on the seats where they usually sat. Dean threw a fit.

"What the hell? Devil traps? In my Baby?! Did you lose your mind somewhere today?" Dean was yelling at the top of his lungs and he didn't seem fazed by Sam's mad gesticulating to keep it down. He was bristling like a cat forced to take a bath.

"I just thought… I'd up our security measures…" Sam tried to explain weakly as he kept the actual reason still swept under the carpet.

"Oh really? By drawing Devil traps on our seats?" Dean scoffed, "What, are demons now trying to crawl up your ass to posses you because they are mortified by your bitch-faces? In that case better tattoo your ass with another anti-possession ink art!"

Sam stood quietly listening to his peeved brother's angry rant. At least it was better than just leaving the stain… and it might actually make the Impala more secure…

"By the way, this was a way too elaborate scheme to cover up your little mistake." Dean's voice was calmer now, and his nostrils weren't as flared.

Sam's ears perked up. My mistake?

"I know about the sharpie goof-up Sasquatch. You could have just told me."

"You weren't mad?"

"Like hell I wasn't! It threw me off my good mood."

"When did you see it?"

"When you'd gone to get dinner. I was gonna pulverize you when you got back, but the disturbed look on your face made me stop. I told myself it wasn't a huge deal." Dean spoke with a compassionate tone that reflected brotherly forgiveness.

"Really? It wasn't?" the younger brother's green eyes lit up.

"Yeah. I was cool with it." the kind look remained on the older brother's face, his eyes softening at the sorry look his brother was displaying.

"Oh…" Sam's heart sank. He took a glance at Baby's seat that was bearing his artwork. It kinda seemed worse now. He should have just been honest with it. I should have told Dean…

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Sam looked at his brother with pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry man. I know what this means to you." He said softly.

"Nah. It's okay Sammy."

Sam couldn't believe his ears. His head tilted slightly as though it would improve his hearing.

A victorious smirk soon replaced the previously smooth countenance of his big brother's forgiving face.

"Yeah, it's all gonna be cool Sammy…" Dean reached into his waist band and plucked the gun, "… after this pre-dinner run."

"What Dean, I don't understand…" Sam asked in a puzzled manner. Dean looked like he was counting till ten in his head.

The older brother didn't feel guilty about pointing his gun at his brother this time. And he did so with a grin.

"Dean?"

"If you can out run me in all ten laps, I'll only shoot twice on your ass- one each for the masterpieces you created." Dean explained his younger brother's act for retribution to him, "Don't worry these are blanks."

"But Dean…" Sam's face took on a look of horror, "…they hurt like a bitch!"

"Well stop being one then."

Sam looked at his brother. He was dead serious. Oh brother…

"Get moving Sasquatch."

"Aren't you gonna run?"

"I have a representative."

"Eh?"

Dean got in the car and started the engine.

"I volunteer Baby, seeing that she has suffered more damage with your brain-storming than she originally had."

As if in agreement, Baby growled in a healthy soprano.

"Now get started Sam. I am hungry so don't make this long…" Dean spoke above the din of the engine noise as he pushed in a cassette tape.

The speakers blared to life with Kansas' Carry On My Wayward Son…

Sam sighed forlornly as he pushed the hair out of his face.

It was going to be a long night…

Please spare a minute for your reviews :) I'd love to hear any useful feedback on writing more humorous pieces since I need to work on my humor writing skills. Thank you!