"Take your time," Dean grunted. "I got all night."
It didn't take all night, but it seemed to take longer than it did, thanks to Sam using a needle to sketch on him now - he wasn't just pricking him over and over, instead working his way through on another pass to make sure there weren't any breaks in the line.
After awhile, it looked like Sam was more or less done, his brother leaning closer to check out his handiwork as Dean tried to do the same, and instead just got a pretty good view of Sam's hair. His skin felt raw, like Sam had been running sandpaper under his skin, but it looked like a pretty good devil's trap to him from what he could see when his brother finally leaned back and gave him a chance to get a good look at it himself. Dean reached for a fresh scrap of sheet, patting away some of the blood and excess ink with his free hand, thankful he didn't fumble that or the flashlight despite not being able to feel much with his fingers still. "Looks good, Sammy. Thanks."
It'd take some used to waking up and seeing a tattoo there every day. Way he figured it, it was a small price to pay if it meant he was officially demon-proof. It didn't erase last night, but at least there wouldn't be any repeats. The devil's trap looked like it didn't have any breaks to him. Still, if Sam wanted to keep going and make extra sure, he'd sit his ass back down on the chair and let Sam have another go at him with that needle. Done patting away the blood and ink, Dean reached over for his shirt, suppressing a wince as the old gashes from last night protested, and began to pull it over his head, managing not to just itch at the skin over his heart no matter how tempting it felt. For a first timer at this, Dean had to say that Sam had done pretty good job, all things considered. He guessed he'd really find out within the next couple of days, counting inflammation and if infection set in, but until then, he was gonna kick back here in this room and not worry about it too much.
Dean leaned over, pulling out his journal from the desk. Dean wasn't too worried about people finding it; yeah, he probably looked like some uni-bomber just from what he'd written, but it wasn't personal...which probably said a lot about him when he could live with being seen as some psycho so long as he didn't have to get all touchy-feely. The hunter opened up to a fresh page, needing some time to figure out what to say. Obviously they were gonna need to get on the same page, make sure they had copies of the info he'd scrounged up, but Dean also wanted to try to steer things back on track. He hated these awkward silences, silences he wasn't even sure if they were all in his head or if things really had changed between them. Dean couldn't figure out why they would for the life of him. Sam didn't know about the deal, so it wasn't like he could hate him for it or anything.
looking back on this morning, Dean supposed he could be worried about him after that ugly possession from last night. He felt like shit about that, despite not remembering a thing. Sure, so maybe he had a reason for not feeling his best. Hadn't ever stopped him before from running his mouth off at Sam, if only to keep up the "it's awesome" vibe going. Maybe it was just this general feeling of exhaustion, that slight buzz in his head that said he couldn't keep going like this and not expect to get his ass kicked. Yeah, maybe that was it. Dean didn't feel up to getting all smart-ass with his brother, and Sam might've picked up on it and was waiting for him to spill his guts. That had to be the reason why it seemed like it was harder to act like nothing was wrong.
That and something was wrong, and it didn't have anything to do with last night, either. Dean could feel Cold Oak's secret, heavy and ugly just like Dad's kill-order. The difference was that order he could choose to ignore. This? Whether or not he wanted to go to Hell, he was going, and that was pretty much it. The only thing he had control of was if he'd make it through a whole year or if he'd get taken out on the job and get sent packing early.
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It didn't take all night, but it seemed to take longer than it did, thanks to Sam using a needle to sketch on him now - he wasn't just pricking him over and over, instead working his way through on another pass to make sure there weren't any breaks in the line.
After awhile, it looked like Sam was more or less done, his brother leaning closer to check out his handiwork as Dean tried to do the same, and instead just got a pretty good view of Sam's hair. His skin felt raw, like Sam had been running sandpaper under his skin, but it looked like a pretty good devil's trap to him from what he could see when his brother finally leaned back and gave him a chance to get a good look at it himself. Dean reached for a fresh scrap of sheet, patting away some of the blood and excess ink with his free hand, thankful he didn't fumble that or the flashlight despite not being able to feel much with his fingers still. "Looks good, Sammy. Thanks."
It'd take some used to waking up and seeing a tattoo there every day. Way he figured it, it was a small price to pay if it meant he was officially demon-proof. It didn't erase last night, but at least there wouldn't be any repeats. The devil's trap looked like it didn't have any breaks to him. Still, if Sam wanted to keep going and make extra sure, he'd sit his ass back down on the chair and let Sam have another go at him with that needle. Done patting away the blood and ink, Dean reached over for his shirt, suppressing a wince as the old gashes from last night protested, and began to pull it over his head, managing not to just itch at the skin over his heart no matter how tempting it felt. For a first timer at this, Dean had to say that Sam had done pretty good job, all things considered. He guessed he'd really find out within the next couple of days, counting inflammation and if infection set in, but until then, he was gonna kick back here in this room and not worry about it too much.
Dean leaned over, pulling out his journal from the desk. Dean wasn't too worried about people finding it; yeah, he probably looked like some uni-bomber just from what he'd written, but it wasn't personal...which probably said a lot about him when he could live with being seen as some psycho so long as he didn't have to get all touchy-feely. The hunter opened up to a fresh page, needing some time to figure out what to say. Obviously they were gonna need to get on the same page, make sure they had copies of the info he'd scrounged up, but Dean also wanted to try to steer things back on track. He hated these awkward silences, silences he wasn't even sure if they were all in his head or if things really had changed between them. Dean couldn't figure out why they would for the life of him. Sam didn't know about the deal, so it wasn't like he could hate him for it or anything.
looking back on this morning, Dean supposed he could be worried about him after that ugly possession from last night. He felt like shit about that, despite not remembering a thing. Sure, so maybe he had a reason for not feeling his best. Hadn't ever stopped him before from running his mouth off at Sam, if only to keep up the "it's awesome" vibe going. Maybe it was just this general feeling of exhaustion, that slight buzz in his head that said he couldn't keep going like this and not expect to get his ass kicked. Yeah, maybe that was it. Dean didn't feel up to getting all smart-ass with his brother, and Sam might've picked up on it and was waiting for him to spill his guts. That had to be the reason why it seemed like it was harder to act like nothing was wrong.
That and something was wrong, and it didn't have anything to do with last night, either. Dean could feel Cold Oak's secret, heavy and ugly just like Dad's kill-order. The difference was that order he could choose to ignore. This? Whether or not he wanted to go to Hell, he was going, and that was pretty much it. The only thing he had control of was if he'd make it through a whole year or if he'd get taken out on the job and get sent packing early.