Lesson Number Six

Dean looked in the mirror as he went through his daily morning routine. He found that with all the crap that he and Sam had to go through just to save the world… well it was somewhat like a lifeboat to have something that could be considered normal like a daily preening. Dean found that he felt like he could take charge of the day after a shower, shave and rushing and rinsing. It was like Cas mentioned about how little things made the difference.

As he was putting on his shirt, he looked at his shoulder. Sure enough, Cas' handprint was still there. It looked like a nasty burn and it probably was since it didn't fade like a bruise. It was the only scar that he came back from hell with and it still provoked curious and interested looks from the chicks he picked up in a bar. He had acquired a few more since coming back but this one still attracted attention when he got down and dirty.

The job was supposedly a spirit haunting the old house out in the boondocks of nowhereville. Locals said that the guy, some douche by the name Carmichael was killed by his hired hand and buried somewhere within the house. Some said it was a basement and others said it was under the oak in the back. Dean and Sam had gone to check it out but nothing registered on the EMP. That didn't mean that the job was finished.

A bit more research revealed that the spirit had only been sighted only during the first phase of the moon. Lucky for him and Sam, they arrived just in time to see that happen. Dean held his gun up while Sam covered his flank with the shotgun. For a moment Dean felt naked without his other wingman following behind Sam. Then again such was the thing when one gets called by the douches within the Centurion. Still he and Sam could handle it. Hell they had been handling it before the third man came in. They could handle it.

They couldn't handle it.

As it turned out, the spirit was real. Carmichael was dead but the stupid legends were fakes. Something just to bring in the tourists, as if they would want to stop in this crappy ass town. In this case Carmichael was a douche but he was also a good guy and he actually died peacefully but he was known for being heavy handed in his methods on this stinking farm and he had been sighted scaring folks before all this crap. The kicker was that the current owner decided that having a ghost to take care of your enemies was the 'in thing.' It was Sam's idea to go after the douche with a reversal spell to put the ghost back to sleep.

Dean managed to find the remains of Carmichael and Sam tried to get the owner a guy who was called Kip. Dean had the easy job and Sam was in for the long haul. Dean looked up anxiously as he pulled up the last of the boards on the wooden coffin. He quickly set up the stuff just when Carmichael appeared and the fun began.

~0~0~

"Dean, stop it. I got it."

"Quit your whining Samantha and let me take a look." Dean bent to examine the cut on Sam's hand.

Sam snatched it away while glaring at his brother. He inspected it. It was a deep cut and right on the knuckle. The other laceration was on his upper arm and it didn't need stitches. How was he supposed to know that Kip was going to pull a knife? The knife nicked his arm but the cut on his knuckle came from the bastard's teeth. He looked at it as it was still bleeding and went to wash it off.

Dean gave a slight chuckle as he took a drink of whiskey to ease the headache from his time being thrown around by the spirit. When Sam came out holding a towel to his hand he said, "Come one Sam. Let me take a look."

"I got it Dean."

"You know I seem to recall that you don't put up as big a fuss when she's around," Dean replied as he grabbed Sam's hand and removed the towel. Now that Sam had cleaned it, he could see how deep the laceration was. It was right on the knuckle too. "Damn Sammy. What did you do? Punch in another wall?"

"Eat me Dean," Sam replied as he reached over to grab the alcohol swabs. It was awkward since Dean had a firm grip on his hand. "Bastard's teeth did that."

"Huh. Reminds me of that story about the girl, what was her name? Oh Scout. She punched in her cousin's face and came out with a cut just like that." Dean looked up at his brother as he snatched the alcohol swab out of his hand and started cleaning it. The look on Sam's face was comical. He said. "What? I read too. Did you think you were the only one who read a good book college boy?" He laughed as he cleaned it with the alcohol.

"Dude, you read To Kill a Mockingbird?" Sam let his brother work on his hand. Once Dean got his back up when it came to first aid, it was best to let him do his thing. Any excuse to practice. He held out the tube of antiseptic.

"Yeah. Good book," Dean replied. He frowned at the tube of anti-bacterial cream that Sam was holding. He took it and threw it behind him like it was nothing. "Damn Sammy. You know there is only one kind of stuff we use."

Sam rolled his eyes. Yes he knew since Dean loved eulogizing anything that she showed him from her first aid kit. He did have to admit that it was better than the over the counter stuff. "Fine Dean. You are the sorcerer's apprentice on this."

"Damn straight," Dean replied as he applied the stuff from the jar that he had picked up from the table. Once he was finished with that, he wrapped Sam's hand in a bandage of gauze. Once he was finished, Dean admired his handiwork. "I guess those lessons really paid off. You're gonna have a nice scar there though. Won't be as pretty as the tats she gave you."

Sam shot a modified version of the bitch face at his brother. It was bad enough that it was going to scar since she was sure to notice it when she got back. Now Dean had to remind him about that time. "Great."

Dean gave Sam a slight smack to his arm, aware that he had hit the arm that had been cut, and he grinned at Sam's response. He knew that Sam hadn't been happy about the tattoo thing and he never missed a chance to try and have Sam get a tattoo. Sam always gave the bitch face about that and Dean would call him a pansy. Now Sam was going to have something that would impress the chicks, well probably one in particular. He said, "Sam, I think it's time you learn one of the most important things that you're ever going to come across in a lifetime."

"Please don't try to explain your pie fetish."

"It's not a fetish. Pie is a necessary staple in a man's life. Hell even you know who understands that."

"You know she humors you right?"

Dean pouted and replied, "She does not. She respects the pie. Besides that's not what I'm getting at. There was a reason I brought up that chick in that book."

"Obviously it's not for your prowess at literary discussion."

"Bite me bitch," Dean retorted. "Will you stop picking apart everything I say?"

Sam rubbed gently the bandage wrapped around his hand. It was still sore but at least it wasn't bleeding as bad as it was before. "I will when you stop providing material."

Dean scowled as he cleaned up. He was so glad she was meeting them in a few days. Then she could deal with this wisecracking Sasquatch of a brother of his. She liked that kind of thing. "Then I'm glad she's coming back and you're going to have to explain that." He pointed at Sam's hand.

Sam sighed. Dean was right. She was going to ask about it and probably scold him or Dean or both. That would mostly be for the laughs but then she would get deadly serious. Sam hated it when she did because then she became like Dean on a bad day and the problem was he rather liked it coming from her. Knowing that it would come up, he decided to stop teasing his brother. "Fine just tell me what you think is so important about this."

"Now you're talking Sammy." Dean's grin got wider. "Now I know you become a princess over a tattoo but what you got there is the prime ticket."

"Fine. Can you tell me so we can get some sleep for once?"

"Sammy, this is important. One of the things that attract a chick's notice is the scars."

Sam shot Dean a look. "Dude, seriously? Maybe that works for you…"

"Hell yeah it does." Dean threw aside the med kit bag while getting animated about this. "Heck chicks are drawn to Cas' branding on my shoulder. They think it's a new fad or something."

"Only you would use that to get laid."

"Whatever works Sammy. Just remember that chicks dig scars. I'm betting that she'll see it when she gets back and think that you grew up."

Sam just rolled his eyes as he got ready for bed. He seriously doubted that she would be one of those girls since she was more of a worrier. "Whatever Dean."

"Just you wait."

~0~0~

"Bad hunt?"

Sam frowned in puzzlement until Angela pointed at his bandaged hand. Of course she would notice. Sam replied, "Nothing serious unless you count a guy who thinks controlling a ghost is fun."

Angela raised a brow for a split second. "That's usually a bitch." She then looked up at the night sky where she had been star gazing again on top of the Impala's hood. "Mind if I take a look?"

Sam looked at her in suspicion but let her take a look anyway. She undid the bandage and tossed it aside carelessly and leaned in to take a look. Sam almost laughed as she peered so closely that her nose was close to touching it. She looked like one of those old ladies trying to read tiny print even with their glasses. "So are you going to scold me?"

"Why would I do that?"

"You usually do."

"Only if stupidity is involved," Angela replied as she leaned back. "Dean did a good job." She ran her thumb along the forming scar gently. "Nice scar. It gives a tough guy look."

Sam gave her a look but she didn't notice since she was looking at the forming scar. He looked up and saw Dean walking by. Dean paused to watch and gave a look that said 'told you so.' Sam mouthed 'bite me.' He replied, "Misplaced punch but the guy had it coming."

By that time Angela finished rubbing the forming scar and handed back his hand. She replied, "That's fine. At least that one looks prettier than mine." She pointed at the small one that was at least covered by her eyebrow.

"Christo." Sam couldn't help it. When he saw the look on her face he added, "Just checking." When she smiled and turned to go back to star gazing, occasionally muttering the rude rhymes she loved teasing him with, he thought that both Dean and Angela were tag teaming on a prank, or maybe Dean had a point. Then a thought occurred to him when Angela sat up and he noticed that she was just wearing a tank like the ones she wore under her flannel shirts. Chicks may dig scars according to Dean, but he liked her tattoos as he idly traced the one on the back of her right shoulder.

A/N: Another lesson that is important to know and one that Dean considers a necessity along with pie. Four more to go. Which one will be next and who will be the teacher?