AUTHOR'S NOTE: Merry Christmas, Cool Yule, and Happy Holidays, all! Hope you enjoy this little glimpse into the Winchesters when they were kids!

Dean is 8 years old and Sam is 4.

~~ spn ~ ~

"Well...Dean got into trouble for shoplifting." Pastor Jim's voice was mild.

"What?!" John sputtered into his cell phone. "What the hell- he knows better than that, that little-I'm gonna kick his-"

"Stand down, John." Jim's voice was still calm but with a hint of firmness. Not many people

could get away with telling Corporal John Winchester to stand down. "It's fine, we had a talk about it and he's been doing extra chores."

"When did he get a chance to do that? What did he steal?" John still felt outraged.

"He snuck out when I was working on a sermon, went to that little convenience store nearby, and stole a couple of small toys."

"He knows not to steal unless it's absolutely necessary." John growled.

"I know, John, and like I said we had a long talk about it. He said he wanted to get some Christmas presents for Sam. You don't need to punish him for it."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do with my son," John's growl deepened. He knew that the kind of talk that Jim Murphy had had with Dean was not the type of talk that he was planning on having.

Jim sighed. "Just-go easy on him, John. You know this time of year is hard for you, and for him."

"Well…" John considered it briefly. Dean was usually an obedient kid who followed John's stringent rules, but he was developing an independent streak. This led to John needing to remind the boy of the rules, usually by way of his hand applied to Dean's butt. He was still going to have a 'discussion' with Dean about sneaking out at the very least.

"I'm leaving shortly, I'll be there probably this evening." John told Jim.

"All right, I'll save you a plate."

~ ~ spn ~ ~

"Daddy!" Sam barrelled into his father's legs, and John leaned down to pick him up. "Heya, tiger!" He swung Sam up into the air, and the little boy shrieked with glee.

John hugged Sam to him, feeling his baby boy wrap his arms and legs around his torso.

"I missed you, Daddy!" Sam 's voice was muffled by John's shoulder.

John put his nose in Sam's messy hair and inhaled. "Missed you too, kiddo." He kissed the side of Sam's head.

Sam pulled back to look John in the face. "Guess what, Daddy! Josh said that his uncle drives a truck, an' one night he met Santa Claus, and Santa told him that Josh was on the Nice List! Did you ever see Santa?" Sam's hazel eyes searched John's brown ones.

The story they fed Sam was that John was a traveling salesman. Sam didn't really understand what that meant, just that Daddy was gone for periods of time and they had to stay with other people.

"Uh, no, no, I haven't." John said.

"Oh." Sam looked disappointed. "We decorated Christmas cookies in class an' got to eat them! An' I made a gingerbread house an' bringed it home, but it falled apart."

John ruffled his hair. "That's all right, buddy." He gave Sam a squeeze and then set him down on the floor, turning his attention to his eldest.

Dean was leaning on the arm of the sofa nearby, his hands sunk in his pockets. He wouldn't meet John's eyes and his face held that mutinous look that he'd get when he was angry about something.

"Hey, son." John said quietly. He knew it wouldn't do to start out with scolding and bluster, he never wanted his kids to be scared of him coming home. He opened his arms. "C'mere and say hi to your old man."

Dean ambled over slowly, looking for all the world like he'd rather be doing anything else than giving John a hug. John hugged the boy anyway, lifting him off the ground for a moment and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. "How's it going?" He wasn't sure if Dean would admit anything right now, but it was worth a shot.

"M' okay." Dean said sullenly.

John let Dean go. "Just okay?" He said, putting a hint of steel in his tone.

Dean's face hardened, and he glared at John for a moment. Then he dropped his eyes to the floor. "Yeah." He sunk his hands back into his pockets and scuffed the rug with his socked foot.

So that was the way Dean was going to play it. Well, John could play that way too.

"I think we have something to discuss- later." He went to ruffle Dean's hair, but Dean ducked away from him. Fine, let the kid be a little shit right now. He'd deal with the boy at bedtime.

Then Sam was tugging on his hand wanting to show him the tree that Jim had gotten, and Jim said he could heat up some dinner. John chatted with Jim while he ate, Sam on his lap. Dean had skulked off to somewhere else.

Sam told John about all the goings-on at his Preschool and that they had gone to Dean's elementary school holiday music program. John silently cursed himself- he'd meant to be back in time for the program, but during all the research for the hunt it had slipped his mind. There would be other music programs in the future he could attend.

Finally, John figured it was time for Dean's reckoning. He asked Jim if he'd mind giving Sam a bath, and sent them off. Then he went to find Dean, who was in the living room, sprawled across the sofa, watching Scooby-Doo on TV.

John walked over and picked up the remote, turning the TV off.

Dean sat up quickly. "Hey, I was watchin' that! It was just about to get to who the bad guy was!"

"We need to have a talk, son." John sat down in the armchair next to the sofa.

Dean slumped back, the sulky look returning to his face.

John put his elbows on his knees and looked at Dean. "Jim told me what happened at the Gas n' Sip." He said. "You want to explain yourself?"

Dean was looking at his lap, fiddling with a hole in the knee of his jeans.

"Dean?" John's voice held a reprimand- his son knew he was expected to give an immediate verbal response when John asked a question; was he looking for more trouble?

Dean waited another few beats and then responded with a shrug.

John shifted, feeling anger starting to rise up. "Unacceptable. You will tell me what you did, young man, and now."

Dean's expression got even more stubborn.

John's irritation increased. "All right, Dean, I'll do the talking. You broke two rules, son. One, you snuck off, and you know that's something I don't allow. I need for you to be safe, and you're not safe if no one knows where you are. And then to steal? And steal toys, at that? I know I've taught you better than that. You only steal if it's absolutely necessary, and you don't steal nonsense like toys! Why did you do it, huh?"

He wondered if Dean was deliberately trying to get noticed- both boys had done that before. He tried not to let the boys feel neglected enough that they'd revert to misbehaving in order to get his attention. They sometimes did, though, like all kids; in those cases, John made sure to give them some proper attention over his knee, and that usually took care of things.

Dean continued to play with the strings on his ripped jeans, his mouth set in an angry line.

John sighed. "Fine, if you're not going to talk to me, then my hand can do the talking to your butt. C'mere." He moved forward on the seat so that his legs were sticking out, and gestured to his lap.

Dean didn't move for a long moment.

John made his voice hard. "I'm not going to tell you again. You're not going to continue this insubordination, you hear me?"

Dean suddenly moved, standing up and walking over to John's side. John unceremoniously tipped the boy forward over his lap. He put his hand on Dean's back to steady him, and then he began the spanking.

Dean was usually silent during spankings, but he'd eventually start making little pained grunts and whimpers, and John could tell when he'd started crying by the way Dean's back hitched and the sounds of wet sniffles. But this time Dean was stoic. He flinched when John's hand began making a second circuit on his rear end, and his feet kicked out every once in a while when John landed a particularly hard swat. But John wasn't sure if Dean was even crying.

The boy could be stubborn sometimes, Mary had commented on it more than once, that Dean was hard-headed, just like John.

This whole situation- Dean stealing, his recalcitrant silence, was already irritating; and now this- John was starting to get angry. He started swatting harder, and Dean began flinching every so often. But the boy still didn't make a sound.

Suddenly John stopped the spanking and grabbed Dean, standing him up in the V of his legs. He held onto Dean's upper arms and looked him in the eyes.

Dean's face was red and his lip had a divot where he'd worried it, but he still looked like a sulky toddler.

"Enough." John gave him a shake. "You will talk to me, and now, boy!"

Dean continued to keep his eyes lowered.

John's frustration jumped a notch. He unbuttoned and unzipped Dean's jeans and pulled them, and his boxers, down to his knees, then he turned Dean back over his left thigh, sighing heavily. He didn't want to have to keep going, but Dean had broken important rules and needed to realize that his actions had consequences.

As soon as the boy was in place, John landed a flurry of hard spanks to the center of his rear end. Dean hissed sharply and tensed up.

"We're going to keep going until you talk. And after you've explained yourself to me, then we'll get to your punishment for sneaking off and stealing." The kid's butt was already bright red, and John's hand was stinging a bit, but he knew what had to be done to get the kid to start talking. Dean was stubborn, but his father could always out-stubborn him.

He had hoped the threat of this not being the actual punishment, and it being on the bare, would make Dean re-think his refusal to talk, but it wasn't looking that way.

It took just a few swats for John's large hand to cover all of Dean's rear. The kid was flinching more and his back was starting to heave occasionally, but there was still no sound from him.

John's usual technique was lecture first and then get down to the punishment. The boys reacted differently- Dean was usually quiet during all of it, but Sam cried loudly as soon as John turned him over his knee. John decided to try a different tactic with Dean this time around.

He stopped spanking, shaking his hand out. He felt Dean tense, like he was going to get up, and he placed his other hand on Dean's back.

He began to lecture in a stern voice. "You know I depend on you, Dean. I depend on you to follow the rules I make for you, not only to keep yourself safe, but also to take care of your brother and keep him safe. I don't know how to get that through your thick skull- I'm not making all these rules to be a hardass, but to teach you responsibility. Following my orders is being responsible. Keeping yourself and Sammy safe is being responsible. And what you did- sneaking out, stealing toys- is not being responsible. I guess I misjudged you, son. I thought you were ready for the responsibilities I've given you, but this is making me re-think that."

He pushed Dean forward slightly and began to spank the undercurve of his behind and the sensitive crease where butt met thigh. As he expected, his lecture had done the trick, and he soon heard sniffling and a couple of choked whimpers.

After he'd swatted the kid's butt several more times, he stopped again. "You ready to talk?"

Dean's back shuddered. He sniffled, and then muttered, "What d'you want me to say?"

John pulled Dean upright again, leaning down so that he was right in the boy's face. "I want to know why you did what you did. What was going through your mind, knowing that it was the wrong thing to do and how I would react. Do you just not give a shit about the rules anymore?"

Dean's face was wet with tears now and his nose was running. He turned his face away. He suddenly wrenched himself out of John's grasp- John was not expecting it, so Dean was able to step backwards and turn away.

Dean's shoulders shook with quiet sobs and he swiped at his face with his sleeve.

"Dean?"

Dean wheeled around, glaring at John through fresh tears. "You weren't here!" His voice was loud. "You weren't here, again! And I thought-I figured you were gonna miss everything again, and- Sammy's really into Christmas this year, he's all excited and keeps asking about Santa an' stuff an' how come we never had a tree and all that crap, and I didn't have any money for-for presents-for him-" Dean was overcome for a moment, and he swiped his sleeve across his face again.

John was taken aback at Dean's vehemence, but seeing Dean's tears broke through his defenses. The holidays had been a shitty time since Mary died- the depression he sank into around the anniversary of her death usually continued well into December. It was hard for him to muster up the energy to celebrate, and then there was usually research or a hunt that needed his attention.

Sam had been too young these past couple of years to really understand about holidays or miss anything- the kid had never known that they were something to be celebrated, not ignored.

But not Dean. Dean had had time with his parents, time to get excited about the Easter Bunny and pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving and Santa Claus and presents. And all of that had been taken away the night that Mary burned on the ceiling.

And John had never even given that any thought. He'd been so wrapped up in his own grief, in learning how to navigate life, not only as a single father but also as a person who had just learned about the supernatural and the hunting world. He'd been so wrapped up in looking for the evil in every dark corner and working on finding out what killed his wife, that his own family had fallen by the wayside.

Guilt suffused John and all the anger and irritation melted away. He held his arms out. "C'mere," he said huskily.

Dean looked at him warily, and John beckoned him. The boy cautiously made his way over to John, and John enclosed his arms around him. "I'm sorry, kiddo, I'm sorry." He murmured. He held Dean and rocked them both slightly, and Dean relaxed into him, burrowing into John's flannel.

"I'm sorry I made you think I wasn't gonna be here. I'm sorry about all the past times I missed things. I've been so busy-well, no, I can't use that as an excuse. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean was shaking with sobs now, little whimpers escaping every now and then. He held onto John's shirt tightly as John stroked his back.

Finally Dean spoke. "S-sammy's f-four now, an' it- it reminded me of-of when-" his breath hitched. "W-we were j-just startin' to practice Christmas songs in p-preschool when- when it-"

And John remembered. All the preparations they had started making for the holidays went out the window on November 2nd. Dean had stopped talking after that night, and by the time Christmas rolled around he wasn't even in preschool anymore, so there hadn't been any holiday party or Christmas program to go to. John hadn't considered that Dean could possibly be having a hard time this time of year too. He'd always assumed that he was too young to have been really affected.

John picked Dean up in his arms, cradling him like a baby. "I'm so sorry," He murmured again. "I didn't even think about that."

Dean leaned against John. "S'okay, Dad." He sniffled.

"No, it's not, Dean. I'm sorry things have been so fu-so messed up, and I haven't been here. I'm going to try to change that. Let's try to have a good Christmas this year."

Dean looked up at him and gave him a wan smile. "Really? You mean that?"

John nodded. "I do."

Dean hugged John's arm, burying his face in John's chest again. "M'sorry I stole, I wanted to make sure that Sammy had presents, an' I was-I was mad at you 'cause I thought you weren't gonna be here."

"But Dean, Jim wouldn't have let Christmas pass without getting presents for you boys. He'd take care of you and make sure you had a good time."

"Oh." Dean said. "Oh, yeah." No doubt he was remembering last year, when John had left them with elderly neighbors who hadn't included the boys in their holiday- making them stay in their room while their family celebrated, and then given the boys a plate of cold food to share after their Christmas dinner had been served and eaten.

John snuggled Dean on his lap until he was calm, and then righted his clothes and grabbed some tissues so Dean could wipe his face.

John ruffled Dean's hair. "You're a good boy."

Dean looked up at John and then hugged him again. John held him tightly, telling himself that he'd give the boys a real Christmas this year.

~ ~ spn ~ ~

John came out of a sound sleep, dimly aware of footsteps, and then a small body landed on top of him.

"Oof!" John gasped, coming completely awake.

"Daddy!" Sam crowed, a huge grin on his face. "Let's go see if Santa came!"

John patted Sam's tousled head. "You've got some serious bedhead going on, Sammy."

"I know, it's just how I am." Sam said mournfully, and John chuckled.

"Sorry, Dad, I tried to keep him quiet, but he insisted on coming in." Dean stood near the door, shuffling his feet.

"It's all right. C'mere." John patted the bed beside him and moved Sam onto the bed so he could sit up.

Dean came over and climbed onto the bed next to John. While Sam was practically bouncing with barely contained energy, Dean was reserved.

John put his arms around both boys. "You ready to have a good Christmas?"

Sam nodded vigorously. "Yeah!"

Dean nodded as well, although with much less energy.

"Well, I think I have it on good authority that Santa knows where we are and that he did bring some presents, so…should we go check out the tree?" Sam had been worried that Santa wouldn't be able to find them when they had come to Pastor Jim's.

"YEAH!" Sam bounced on the bed.

"He did?" Dean asked, looking up at John. John smiled down at him and winked. "Of course."

He kissed the side of each boy's head and then patted their backs. "Let's go."

An hour later, all the presents were opened. Jim had brought out a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue and the men were enjoying a drink as they watched the boys play with a racetrack.

Sam sat up and announced, "I'm hungry."

Jim sat forward. "Well, how about we go into the kitchen and make some pancakes?"

"Can I have some Christmas cookies?" Sam peered at Jim through his bangs.

Jim laughed. "For breakfast?" He looked over at John.

"Sure, it's Christmas, and you won't have to cook." John said to Jim.

Jim stood up. "All right. I'll throw some bacon on the stove, though. Let's go get the cookies."

Sam followed Jim out of the room.

Dean sat up and looked over at John. John beckoned to him. Dean came over and sat next to John.

John put his arm around Dean. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

"Yeah." Dean looked up at John gratefully. "Thanks, Dad."

John smiled at Dean. "I love you, and I'd do anything for you, Dean."

Dean grabbed ahold of John in a fierce hug.

Sam came into the room, carrying a plate of cookies. He set the plate down on the coffee table and then clambered up on the sofa on the other side of John. He snuggled into John's side, and John put his other arm around Sam.

"This is the best Christmas ever!" Sam exclaimed.

John had both his boys with him and they were happy, which is all he ever wanted. "It truly is." He said, a warm feeling in his chest. "Merry Christmas."