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The first time, he is seventeen, and he and Sam are playing football in the backyard during one of their few free weekends.  Sam tackles him into the wrought iron fence , and Dean feels the thin bone snap before he hits the ground.  It grinds painfully back into place when his not so little brother lands on top of him, shoving the injured shoulder into the dying peonies.  Dean grits his teeth and stands up, accepting the profferred hand. 

    "Dude," says Sam, seeing Dean pale as he rises.  "You ok?"

     "Yeah."  He raises his hands to show that he's fine, but grabs his shoulder when he feels the two pieces grate.  "Maybe not so much."

    "Are you ok?"  Sam repeats, his thirteen year old brain freezing with fear and inexperience.

     "Yeah, Sammy.  I think you broke my collar bone, though." 

    Sam is gushingly apologetic  on the way to the hospital, cries more than Dean does when the bone is set, and flits around anxiously for several days, until Dean finally throws a muffin at him with his good arm.

    "Bug off, Sammy, I'll live!" 

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