Howdy Howdy, I know, more holiday drabbles rather than finishing up some of the other stories I have... I can't help it tho, I like the holidays

This is for a LJ Supernatural Christmas Challenge brought to you by Alantie and me, if you wish to do the challenge yourself the themes are listed on my livejournal page, the link to which can be found on my profile page!

This one is for the theme of Santa

I don't own Supernatural... mebbe I will get them in my Christmas stocking, I have been very good this year!

Jolly Old Saint Nick

"Dean!"

A slight pause.

"Dean!" Another pause, punctuated by a slight shove.

"DEAN!" The whisper was nearing its breaking point, nearly a shout without crossing the slightly lower tones in between.

"Wassitsam?" Dean's response was muffled in the pillow he was attempting to cover his head with.

"Santa!" Dean barely believed the wonder his brother could still muster for the fanciful elf, out of everything they hunted for, everything they killed. Granted, Sam was still too young to be taken out on any hunts, but John worked hard to keep his boys' minds in the real world. So what if their real world happened to include most things that other people did not include in theirs.

"You mean it's morning? Presents?"

"No, Dean. I mean Santa!" Sam's voice held the unswayable note he often got when he wanted something. Something that he wouldn't rest until Dean acquiesced. "Out in the living room, right now."

Stumbling into the hallway behind his brother, the only thing Dean saw at first was their sparse tree in the living room. He would have continued on into the room until Sam's insistent hand stopped him.

"Wait," Sam's voice breathed, his eyes locked on the darkened room. "You might scare him away."

"Whatever dude," Dean breathed back, humoring his little brother. He couldn't see anything in the room beyond, no sign of movement at all.

Then, a flash or red, cutting from the hearth to the tree and back again, it was almost too fast to see. It looked almost like a swirling cloak.

Dean shook his head, not believing his eyes, there was a present under the tree. One that wasn't there before. In his mind, Dean knew there was no Santa, at least not one that ever came to visit the Winchesters. Dean had played the part himself for a few years now. But this appeared to be the real thing.

"Dude, we have to go out there!" Dean's childhood wonder came flooding back to him in a hurry.

"We can't go out there, Dean, Santa doesn't like to be seen!"

The brothers continued hissing back and forth at each other, neither of them noticing the cessation of movement in front of them.

Sam paused in his arguments, brown eyes going wide in his face. "Santa!" He managed to squeak before clutching at Dean's hand.

It took a moment for Dean to see what Sam was pointing at; he could see the red shade a few feet in front of them. Hovering in midair as if it was watching them.

"D'you see him Dean? D'you? He looks just like in the stories!" Sam's excitement crowded out any worries he might have had about frightening Santa away.

Dean couldn't see it, he could see the red cloak, but nothing more.

Sam moved out into the living room, shyly walking towards Santa while Dean watched. His brother's youthful face beamed as he reached his hand out to the elfin specter before him.

The head of the cloak turned towards Dean, a face was starting to appear before him. Its face covered in a white beard, with bright red cheeks, the picture of jolly old Saint Nick. It placed a nearly transparent finger to its lips and gave Dean a sly wink while it reached towards his brother with its other hand.

"SAM, WATCH OUT!" Dean shouted into the room, hoping to wake his father. In that sly wink Dean saw exactly what would happen if he let his brother touch the miserable thing.

Sam half turned back to Dean before the Santa creature shot out a clawed hand and grabbed his shoulder; yanking the surprised child back towards its mouth which had become a gaping maw waiting for young flesh to enter.

Dean found himself across the room quick as a flash, tearing at the malicious sprite with everything he had.

Hair tousled, John burst into the room at the sound of his children's shouts, shotgun in hand. He couldn't see anything in the room, just Dean and Sam struggling near the Christmas tree. "What the hell Dean?"

Gasping for air Dean finally managed to pry the creature's claws from Sam's shoulder and pushed his brother towards John. "Shoot it Dad!" Dean nearly screamed in his urgency to get rid of the beast in the room.

Not quite understanding what Dean wanted him to shoot; John left his judgment up to his son and fired the rock salt, drowning out Sam's pleas to not shoot Santa.

The small family stood in stunned silence, salt settling down onto the side of the tree, making it look as if they recently brought the decoration in from the elements.

"Dean, what was that?"