"Dean, what's wrong with your hand?"

"Nothing," Dean grumbled.

"Dude – you've been favoring it all day. And you're making 'ouch' faces."

Dean sighed. "I broke a couple of fingers on that job last night, ok?"

"Here – let me see your hand."

Dean reluctantly surrendered his hand. After determining the bones were lined up properly – with Dean moaning and cussing as he did so – Sam placed a ruler along the underside of both fingers, and secured it to Dean's wrist, hand, and fingers with an ace bandage.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's improvisation, but secretly he was impressed.

"Thanks."