Disclaimer: Just the standard disclaimer folks. I don't own anyone or anything you recognize. I am not making any money, nor is any offence intended.

Author's Notes: This follows two previous stories if you haven't read Renovations and Shadows please read them first or some of this will not make sense. That said there are some references here that might upset some, but nothing worse than what happened in the last stories.

The story is complete at approximately 20 chapters and plan to post about once a week.

I hope you enjoy the following.

Scar Tissue

by infinite shadow

Chapter 1

Dean pulled into a parking stall a ways from the motel room.

The River's Lodge was not much different than any other dive they'd ever stayed in. A common motel at the side of the road, but being the time of year traffic was high and the so-called lodge was full.

Not that it mattered. It had been a great night for him. A good pool game; which led to an even better game of darts; which had led to an outrageous game of poker. He was up four hundred dollars and no punches had been thrown.

It was kind of refreshing to not have any sore losers. The two guys he had been playing all night had been great. Aside from some good natured grumbling they hadn't even bitched about losing. In fact, they bought him a beer and had asked for pointers before he left. Dean had taken the beer and watched for the setup but it never came.

He'd spent the last two hours giving them free advice on their pool game. They'd never be as good as he was, but they were better than when he'd arrived.

The car door groaned softly as he closed it and he headed for the room. Wait till he told Sammy about them. It would have been perfect if his brother had been there to have seen it for himself.

A few soft snow flakes began to fall around him and he smiled. At that moment he thought nothing could possibly ruin his evening. He fished the room key out of his pocket. One step from the door he froze and the grin faded away.

Two loud muffled voices on the other side of the door had him sighing. The slight beer buzz fell away, leaving a small headache in its wake. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes looked down to the key in his hand.

He turned as the key was roughly shoved back into his pocket and he glanced at the Impala. He could wait it out in her vinyl bench seats. Wouldn't be the first time, but it was early yet and far too cold to just sit out there.

Dean flicked up the collar on his leather jacket as he walked past the office and out onto the street. He aimed for a diner they'd passed on the way into town. Far enough away for him to push away his headache, blank his mind of too many recent arguments and clear his head. Close enough to not freeze to death in the process.

Snow began to fall harder as he walked. Not the big wet flakes he was accustomed to. These were so small and powdery soft that he held out a hand in amazement to capture a few. A small half grin lit up his face as he brushed them off and kept walking.

He'd never actually admit it to anyone but he loved this kind of weather. There was something special about falling snow. Even on a busy street with a few people walking past there seemed to be a comforting hush that never happened at any other time.

He took a deep breath of the crisp cool air and his chest ached slightly. A vague reminder of a bookshelf or wall he'd been tossed into last week. His smile only grew as an older lady with a cane smiled at him.

"Lovely night," she said with a nod.

Dean returned the gesture. "Yes it is," he replied softly.

Too soon he was at the diner and he dusted himself off just inside the doorway. There was no music, just a general soft din that came with road side stops – murmuring voices, metal on china, sizzle of the grill in the back, bells, and muted engines as cars passed on the road outside.

He settled at a booth and looked out the window intent on looking at the falling snow for a moment. His reflection looked back at him, looking gaunt, washed out, almost ghost like. He squeezed his eyes shut as his entire body shuddered.

"What can I start you off with, hon?" A tired looking waitress asked him.

"Coffee and," Dean said as he stopped himself from grabbing a menu. It wasn't like he actually had to look at those things. In every diner and every state they basically had the same thing. "What's the best pie?"

"Depends on whatcha like," she said with a shrug. "S'all good. There's peach, apple, pumpkin, banana cream, lemon meringue, or cherry."

Huh. Yeah all… "Pumpkin with whipped cream on top and a dish of vanilla ice cream," he said.

She nodded distractedly as she wrote it down and walked away.

His stomach growled and he glanced at the menu thinking he should've ordered a meal. A grin lit up his entire face. "No way," he breathed.

He scooted over in the booth and was almost drooling over the shiny mini jukebox attached to the wall. It had been ages since he'd seen one of those things. He flipped through the selections and was delighted to see some of his favourite bands were in there. He started to dig into his pocket for change only to find he only had bills.

The waitress thunked his order down on the worn table top. "Need some change darlin'?"

"Yeah," Dean said.

She nodded as she counted out the coins from her tips. She cleared her throat. "Don't choose the Johnny Cash songs. Not that there's anything wrong with Johnny, personal favourite of mine, but some of the local kids came in and switched up the music. It's some rap group. Not bad, but it's no Johnny. Some of our old timers nearly had a heart attack when all that noise came out. We've fixed almost the rest of 'em, it just may not come out as you see it the way it's labelled. We think Johnny's the last album to be fixed but we still get one of two that are off. So if you get one that doesn't work let me know ok?"

"Yeah sure," Dean said, blinking at the long explanation. Messing with Johnny wasn't cool but there were a lot of other great choices he could go with.

Knowing how long the fights could last for he flicked through the pages and chose several songs.

The dessert was long gone and he was on his six or seventh coffee refill when an unfamiliar tune began to play. He put down the paper he was reading and glanced around. He was the only customer and it was possible one of the staff had chosen this song.

It was all drum beats and odd keyboard riffs. He didn't usually like this style but this was cool.

"I'm switchin' you to decaf sweetie," the waitress announced.

"Yeah ok," Dean said softly as he read her name tag. "Liz, do you know what this song is?"

She tilted her head and smiled down at him. "Sure. It's Genesis - 'The Brazillian'. One of my favourites. All rhythm and no lyrics, but not your choice?"

"Nah, but it's ok. I like it," Dean said, then gave her the track it was supposed to be.

A few songs later he ordered another piece of pie and hit the jukebox up for more songs. He knew he should go back to the motel room, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to leave the cozy diner. He was seriously enjoying the tunes, the coffee and the comments Liz was making at him every time she passed by.

It wasn't long before he had the feeling he was being watched. Slowly he lowered the paper and swallowed heavily as he saw his father standing next to his booth.

"Uh, hey, dad," Dean said softly with a weak smile. "Want some pie? It's really good here."

John slid into the booth across from him. "Been here long?"

"Nine cups of regular coffee, then I switched him to decaf. He's on his fourth decaf cup. Two slices of pie, and some ice cream. Oh and the pudding is better warm so Bert's just doing that now," Liz said as she put a mug down in front of John and held up the coffee pot.

The tips of John's lips curved up as he nodded. He waited for Liz to walk away. "I was getting worried."

"I can look after myself," Dean said.

"True. But it's not often that I see the car in the parking lot and you're not around," John said calmly then took a sip of the hot brew.

Dean sighed. "I did good tonight. Got back and just felt like taking a walk. Ended up here."

"Bullshit. You heard Sammy and I fighting again," John said tiredly.

Dean looked out the window and stared at his ghostly reflection. He chewed on his bottom lip for a second before he slowly blew out a breath. "Didn't feel like getting in the middle tonight is all."

John nodded. "Which pie?"

Dean looked back at him a little confused at the change in topic. "Pumpkin and cherry."

"Pumpkin pie is gross. It's all slimy and yucky," Sam said as he slid into the booth next to his brother and deliberately bumped into his shoulder before reaching across him and grabbing a menu off the end of the table. "They gotta have banana splits or hot fudge sundaes."

Dean shoved him back roughly. "Dude, personal space."

Sam snickered as he looked up at him then turned serious. "You ok? You kinda looked tired."

Dean shrugged. "I'm fine, Sam."

"You were gone for like ten hours," Sam started to say.

"Three," John corrected softly.

"Ok, three hours after the car parked but it felt like ten," Sam said with a nod.

Dean frowned at his little brother then turned to look at his father. "How much candy has he had today?"

"We were worried," Sam said with a shrug as he looked at the menu and gave his brother a soft jab at the same time. "Cause you heard us fighting again."

Dean shook his head and cuffed him for the jab. "Was letting you two work it out."

"About that," John said, ignoring their actions. "Sam was right."

"Wait. Is that even possible? Sammy was actually right about something?" Dean teased then couldn't hold back a yawn.

"I asked for a vacation," Sam said quietly as he put the menu down. He stared down at it and traced the pictures of food with his finger.

"A vacation? Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that doesn't include a hunt," Sam answered with a shrug. "I'm not picky."

Dean nodded. He should've seen it coming with all the fights and the difficulties with the sparring. Kid had been growing like a weed and his balance had been a problem. He sipped his coffee. It would suck that his brother wouldn't be with them for a while.

"Not just Sam," John said.

Dean snorted. "We'll kill each other."

John smiled. "We'll be meeting Bobby tomorrow. I'll go with him and you two will go on to the salvage yard. Take care of things while we're gone."

Sam huffed beside him. "Salvage yard sitting. It's as if they're worried the rusted out cars in there will miraculously start and drive away. Or the remnants of whatever the metal used to be will magically get possessed and start flying everywhere," he said and rolled his eyes.

Dean fought the urge to laugh. He took a breath. His lips folded inwards, he pressed down on them and took another breath. He bit down on them as the giggle threatened to emerge as Sam continued on arguing the merits of babysitting a salvage yard.

"I mean come on, dad. The parts aren't exactly going anywhere," Sam protested.

"More coffee?" Liz asked and put water down in front of Sam as she looked at Dean. "Is he ok? He's gone a funny shade of red."

"Oh he's just fine," John said with a twinkle in his eye.

Liz took John and Sam's order and left. Before Sam could begin again Dean burst out laughing.

"Sorry, sir, but I'm uh with Sammy here on this one," he said as he leaned back and eased an arm over the back of the booth seat. "Why doesn't Bobby bring Shadow and we'll grab a cabin somewhere?"

"Could we go fishing, Dean?" Sam asked excitedly.

"Did you even look outside?" Dean asked, giving his brother a stern look with his eyebrow raised.

"Ice fishing?"

"I'm not freezing my ass off for fish," Dean said.

"Boys, you'll be heading to the salvage yard where I expect you two to stay out of trouble and not kill yourselves or each other. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered.

"Fine," Sam grumbled.

"You know, Sam, we could just take you two along," John said.

"I know, but I just," Sam started then shook his head. "It's ok. Maybe we should just go with you. Vacations are a bad idea."

"No way, Sammy. Dad's given us some down time. I think we can handle it," Dean said.

Sam looked over at him funny through his bangs. "Um, ok?"

"Just as long as you two don't burn the place down, I don't care what you two do," John said. "And I don't want to know. I don't want to hear of any limbs falling off, broken bones or tears of rage. If it gets broken you fix it, the wallpaper starts falling down you re-glue it to the wall. You get hurt, stitch yourselves up. If something burns down I will take it out on your hides."

When Sam froze for a mere second next to him Dean slipped his arm off the back of the booth and put it around his little brother's shoulders. Then when Sam looked at him, he gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Yes, sir. We understand."

"You'd better," John said with a tease of a smile on his face then shook his head as he drained his coffee.

Liz returned a few minutes later with John's pie, Sam's banana split and another piece of pie for Dean. "He burned the pudding," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Sam and Dean argued about what songs to play next. It was the harsh elbow to Dean's already aching ribs that made him shove Sam so hard that the younger sibling had to grip the table in order to not fall on the floor. By the time Sam had settled back on the seat Genesis had begun to play.

John turned the page of his paper ignoring the antics of his sons in front of him.

"Oh why didn't you say you wanted this one," Sam said, shaking his head. "This is cool."

"Really? Maybe your taste in music isn't completely emo-mush after all," Dean said. "There's hope yet."

"Nope. Just gotta get you into this decade," Sam said with a grin.

"Right," Dean shot back.

Sam yawned and leaned back against the back of the booth. "So Uncle Bobby's all to ourselves?" he whispered.

Dean raised an eyebrow and nodded.

Sam chewed on his lip slightly. The last time he was at Uncle Bobby's place he'd forced the man do a blood ritual with him.

"Football, beer, and maybe a girl or two," Dean said.

"Dean," John said a warning clear in his voice behind the paper.

"Football, pop, maybe a movie or two," Dean quickly amended and winked at Sam.

Sam shrugged.

Dean leaned back contentedly and mirrored his sibling's posture. "No fights. No hunting. Just some fun. How's that sound?" he asked, watching his little brother's reaction and felt a bit sad when Sammy hesitated by hiding how he was feeling under sarcasm about babysitting the junkyard.

Sam shifted slightly so their shoulders were touching slightly. He nodded and yawned.

Dean could see how uncomfortable Sammy was with getting together with Bobby. It had been going on for months. He had tried to think of anything Bobby could have said or done to make his little brother uncomfortable and had come up with a blank. It had to stop though because Bobby was one of the few people in their lives they could trust without question. He needed to get to the bottom of the problem and soon.

Liz breezed by the table dropping the cheque as she passed.

"Um, dad?" Dean said softly. "Sammy here's about to turn into a pumpkin."

"Shut up," Sam growled, his eyes half closed.

The edge of the paper turned down. "Looks fine to me."

"We're heading back to the motel," Dean said, giving Sam a slight nudge to get him moving knowing his brother was tired and he was exhausted.

John nodded and folded down the paper. He frowned at his oldest son for a minute.

Dean smiled slightly as he pulled out some of his winnings and left a hefty tip along with the bill. "Thanks Liz."

She smiled at them. "Have a good one," she said as she scooped up the money and headed behind the counter.

Sam got out of the booth first and slowly headed for the door.

"Give us a head start?" Dean asked softly.

John nodded. "Sure. Is everything ok?"

Dean hesitated as he watched his little brother for a moment before he looked back at his father. "I think so. Just gotta a feeling is all."

"All right," John said picking up the paper again. "I'll be there in a little while."

"Thanks," Dean said and rushed to catch up to his little brother.

To be continued...