tampered | log; ongoing;

log; ongoing;

When; Now. Roughly. But not like that.
Rating; PG-13 for exposed lower backs.
Characters; Dawn Summers [

tothelibrary]; Sam Winchester [

canitdean]
Summary; One should never get a tattoo unless it's meant to prevent demon possession.
Log;

Making plans ahead of time is somewhat of a taboo for hunters. Problem is, despite having been in the business for a good couple of years now, Sam hasn't moved on past the Stanfordian habit of planning out things to the hour, weeks in advance. So when zombies start getting in the way, and when Dean gets infected, well fuck, he'll just have to deal with the possible demon hiding out in Dawn's body later.

All things considered, however, she hasn't really been acting strangely, at all. And that's only cause for more concern, because it wouldn't be the first time he's gotten along with a demon, but this is one area that doesn't really become more comforting with repetition.

Still, there are things more important than Sam's comfort, so he packs up a couple of Jones sodas - don't be fooled, there's holy water inside - and salt, plus a can of spray paint, in a pack that he slings over his shoulder. And, as usual, there's a pistol tucked in his pants, in the small of his back. Shouldn't need more than that for this, hopefully.

Inhaling deeply, he raises his hand to the door, knocks three times.

"Hey, Dawn? It's Sam."

Then proceeds to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck.

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Normally, Dawn would have primped and changed clothes and maybe put on some makeup, but she's tired and not admitting her crush on Sam anyway, so when she opens the door it's just sweats and a tshirt and a ponytail.

...And okay, maybe some sparkly lipgloss. Rome was not built in a day, as the saying goes.

Also, Sam? Better not to talk about the Holy Water. Little sister is a bit sensitive to those kind of accusations.

She opens the door and stands just as awkwardly next to it. "Hi! Sam. Um. Come in?"

Yeah, she's smooth.

It's okay, sweats and a t-shirt and a ponytail turn into something completely disconcerting when combined with sparkly lipgloss. Haven't you ever seen Cover Girl commercials? Thus, Sam is still awkwardly scratching the back of his neck and it's probably turning a little pink.

"Hey. Uh, thanks."

He walks inside and this feels... kind of like college.

Weird.

"I brought some stuff to inspect your tattoo with. Some of it will require spray-painting on the floor, by the way, which Buffy cleared, although I don't think I mentioned it to you."

His gaze wanders, just because having it settle too much might be a little rude, right? The apartment looks nice. Cozier than his own, in ways.

Or maybe that's just the lack of puppy pee.

Dawn is pretty much convinced Sam will never ever look at her like that so she just wonders if maybe he has eczema. She's not even cute today, so it's most likely eczema.

"Hey, mi floor es... su spray painting spot, I guess. As long as I don't have to clean it up, I'm fine."

Shin knows better than to pee on things inside. Instead he eats shoes, but Dawn has gotten really good at remembering to put hers up high.

"So, you want something to drink? Eat? I have leftovers from whatever Jack made last night." This is so awkward. So so awkward. Ice needs to be broken and fast or Dawn will begin babbling.

Sam's had eczema before, but it was a little spot above his left knee, not anywhere near the smack middle of the back of his neck. But Sam also has someone that he's sort of dated, sort of dating, so he quashes all thoughts. Except for the one that tells him that he hasn't been alone with a girl in her apartment in quite a few months.

"Well, it should come in handy, anyhow, in all honesty. I'm thinking..."

He looks around, spots the rug on the floor.

"Under the rug or something. Less scrubbing involved afterwards."

He shoots Dawn a half-grin before pulling the sodas out of his backpack.

"I'm actually fine as far as food goes, but I was passing by the convenience store -" This is such a lousy excuse, Sam. "- and noticed that they also have Jones soda here. Which I've always been a fan of, because they look kinda... radioactive, and all."

Awkward.

Hey, Dawn already broke up with her first ever boyfriend and has no concept of you feeling as awkward as she does, so you're off the hook.

"Oooh, Jones!" Dawn grins. "Did you get one of the green ones that look like Kryptonite? Because one time Xander and I were drinking them and I spilled some on his arm and he- told me to shut up and stop babbling about people you don't know."

This is Dawn, looking embarrassed. "So, Jones and spraypaint. You need any help with the amateur vandalization or should I just watch?"

"The green ones are actually my favorite, yeah. Well, the blue ones look nice too, but I've always been a fan of green apple, so..." He hands one of the bottles, green as requested, to Dawn, while he places the other on the kitchen counter, then bends down to pull the rug aside.

"And I think that I should probably work on this myself, just 'cause in order for it to work it... well. I didn't bring a reference sheet, let's put it at that, and I'm not really telepathic."

Close to it, though.

Sam starts spraying onto the floor, blue spray paint because it looks a little less ominous than red.

"So, Dean pulled a white knight somehow?"

"They're all pretty, I just like the green ones best." Dawn opens the Jones and begins sipping; if you were expecting trauma, Sam, you'll be disappointed because all she does is cough a little when a bubble hits the back of her throat weird, then curl her legs up underneath her on the couch and drink soda while she quietly watches Sam.

She nods. "Came into the library, kicked zombie butt, gave me a knife and got me safe. It was very chivalrous."

"Then I'm glad I guessed correctly." Sam's not really disappointed, not in the least. This is either very good news or very bad news, with the bad news possibly being a little more weighty. He's known demons that aren't affected by holy water before, just because they've got so much mojo that it doesn't burn at all going down their throats. But he doesn't know of any demon that can get out of the devil's trap.

Of course, if she were really that strong of a demon, she'd probably know what it is Sam's painting and bail.

"If that's your definition of chivalrous, Dawn, I'm a little worried," Sam laughs, shaking his head as he sprays in a wide circle. "Guess it's nice that you've seen his good side, however. Just, y'know. Don't let it fool you too much, because that'd be awkward."

"Awesome guess." Dawn tips her bottle in recognition, then sips again, cocking her head to the side as she studies the pattern Sam is painting. It looks vaguely familiar, but not in a way that sets off alarm bells. Plus, she trusts Sam.

Another sip of soda. "My upbringing was a little weird. Dean's nothing next to Spike." Then choking on her sip of soda. "Wait, wait, did you just- Oh, Sam. Sam, no! A thousand times no. Ew. I like Dean, but no." She pauses thoughtfully. "Besides, I just broke up with my first boyfriend ever, and something tells me Dean? Not a fantastic idea right now. Or ever."

Sam figures that if it's not a demon, no harm done, there's just some extra decoration in the apartment. And if it is a demon, Dawn probably would have wanted it exorcised anyway. Right? So his brow is only slightly furrowed, in a manner that might pass for concentration. He steps out of the circle once it's done, checking for any broken lines.

And then his eyes widen when Dawn chokes, and he rushes over until she talks again, at which point he takes a step back. Riding that thin line of propriety.

"Well, I mean - you can't blame me, right? Somehow, Dean pretty much fits the bad guy stereotype, and that's always made him popular with just... about everyone," Sam sheepishly explains. Too much information. "But yeah, if you broke up, then... far be it from me to say anything. Dean's a great guy, but commitment..."

He thinks of Cassandra.

"It's difficult for him."

And now that the conversation has thoroughly gone in the exact opposite of the direction Sam had been expecting, he shrugs and takes a sip of his own bottle, then waves towards the seal.

"So I just need you to walk through the center of this circle. If everything's fine, then that eliminates a lot of concerns I'd have about your tattoo."

Dawn comes down very strongly on the side of 'not being evil'. So yes, exorcise away. Really. She means it.

"Sam, I really really really do not want to date your brother, so just... calm down, okay? No need to worry. Buffy is the Summer's sister to watch with him, anyway." Dawn grimaces. "And that would be gross so I'm officially banning all thought of it ever."

And now that Dawn has officially traumatized herself for life, she stands and stretches, then waves her bottle. "Can I keep this for the walk, or is there some weird 'no fizzy drinks' rule?"

"Yeah, uh... let's ban the thought of that, and I don't know, from the talks that I've had with your sister I don't think she'd be the type to - well, I guess I can't really... judge," Sam mutters, ruffling his hair and wanting this topic to move on.

He doesn't mention that he's pretty sure Dean's a Buffy fan. You know, like, the show.

"Keep the bottle, that's perfectly fine," Sam waves, feeling less and less threatened by the minute. Well, by the threat of demons, anyway.

"Sam, clearly you have not heard about Angel or Spike. Buffy would. She so would. And now I have to bleach my brain!" Dawn grimaces because ew. Major do not want, right there. It's like... Giles and mom. Just wrong.

Dawn flashes Sam a thumbs up. "Sweet! Walking and drinking. I'm way hardcore now." And she walks over the trap easy as pie, drinking from the soda. Satisfied, Sam?

"So, do I pass or whatever?" Dawn wrinkles her nose. "Because if that was supposed to do something I don't think it did."

"Dawn, you could have just let it slide and pretend that she wouldn't! For the sake of, I don't even know, sanity!" Sam grimaces as well and... just rubs his temples. "We can turn a blind eye if we want. At least until if and when we hear things through the walls."

He's making it worse.

But watching Dawn go through without any hesitation makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Okay. Yes, you definitely pass. No demon possession, Dawn. Your sister was a little worried..." He pauses, pondering. "I guess now's when I ask if I can... see it and make a sketch of it so that I can look through my books and resources."

"Oh my God ew, Sam! Through the walls oh my God oh my God that is just..." Dawn flails silently, unable to come up with a word gross enough for what that is.

A moment to take that in. "So, you thought maybe I was?" She's not mad, though, so don't be worried, Sam. Then she sighs and takes another sip of soda, and shrugs. "Sure, why not. Um. As long as we don't mention it where Buffy can see and try and kill you, can I lay down on my bed for the drawing? Buffy stuff is all over the couch because she's a total slob, and I don't feel like hanging out on the floor."

She's blushing, but hey, you can ignore that, right Sam? "We could leave the door open. I mean. In case, or whatever."

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