A/N: Vivi here! I'm back, finally, for real! This is the end guys. It's... bittersweet. See the A/N at the end for more info.

Warnings for the same ol' stuff, language, etc.

I really hope you enjoy the final chapter of John's Boys. I know I did. It wraps up a lot of loose ends, clarifies some muddy waters, and pulls more than a few heartstrings. Even mine.

Much love,

Vivi

Previously on John's Boys:

The floor wasn't the most comfortable one he'd ever rested on, but his boys were there, all safe and sound and snoring. Music to a father's ears.

Dr. Danlos was an ass. She was tall, beautiful, blonde, and a complete jerk.

At least in John's mind.

"Next time you have sex, use a condom, Dean." She said, completely absorbed in her charting as she stood at the foot of Sam's bed. They were just wrapping up the morning visit for the three boys. Dr. Danlos wasn't too happy that Dean switched rooms, but she didn't force him to go back after John had some strong words with her in the hallway.

"I- It wasn't my fault." Dean stuttered, mortified at the doctor's words.

"Hey, lay off-" Sam piped up. He knew a little of what happened, or at least what Dad would tell him must have happened, to led to Dean getting that infection. Dean didn't talk about it much. Dr. Danlos had been quippy and rude to him too, but Sam knew his big brother was in a worse mental state than the rest of their little family, having just faced his abusers and come out on top. So Sam tried to stand up for Dean, to tell the woman that it wasn't like he slept around, only to be interrupted and silenced.

"Chlamydia doesn't just happen. You should know that."

Dean frowned, his blush deepening and a sickening heat forming in his belly. "I do know that, but-"

"Did you have the sex talk with your sons, Mr. Bennett?" Dr. Danlos looked up from her paperwork for just long enough to make sure John was paying attention. "Do they know what goes where and how to protect themselves?"

"If you read his chart and the history I filled out for him, you'd know how he got the infection." John crossed his arms and moved to stand protectively in front of Dean, who was still huddled in the recliner. Poor kid was flushed a deep red, embarrassment crawling under his skin at his flaws being spoken aloud for his whole world to hear. Cas and Sam were lighter shades of red; Cas' was embarrassment for Dean's suffering but Sam's was pure anger. How dare that woman talk to his brother like that?

"I don't have time to read everything given to me, sir."

"He was raped." John said bluntly, hoping to end the conversation.

"Good to know." Dr. Danlos scribbled something on her pad and looked up at Dean, only to realize her view was blocked by his father. "Excuse me."

"For what?" John barked, angry at her lack of empathy for his hurting kids. What a horrible doctor. "Haven't you done enough?"

"I have some more questions for Dean." Dr. Danlos moved to the side of Sam's bed so she could see Dean around John. Poor Sam was caught right in the middle of it, unable to escape his confines of IVs and bed rails. "Do you know who raped you?"

"Alright, that's enough-" John started, letting his arms drop in anticipation of physically forcing the woman out of the room. He planned to demand another doctor as soon as possible or leave. He could take care of them on his own if he had to. No way was he risking his sons' mental health just to be polite.

"She's dead."

That stopped John in his tracks. He turned to look at his little soldier, looking so much smaller than normal under that scratchy hospital blanket, the flush of his face standing in sharp contrast to the sterile white that enveloped him.

"What?" The father had always assumed Dean was attacked while he lived on the streets in Orem, or before that, back in Washington. Probably by some creep who liked kids a little too much and was bigger than Dean. Or maybe- maybe Dean had been desperate for food or money… It wasn't like the thought hadn't crossed John's mind before that his little soldier may have gotten in too deep with the wrong crowd. He had shown some defensive behaviors when they first met. But no matter what he did or what he went through, Dean would always be his son. His loved, treasured, perfect little boy. Even if someone told him all about the kid - the marks, the history, the behavior, the infection - back when Dean was still missing, John would've dropped everything and gone to Orem with Sam in tow.

For nearly four years, Dean had been his whole world. How could he not need him back, regardless of his state?

But Dean knew who did it. He knew the person who attacked him, or used him, whatever the case may be. It wasn't some random act of violence. It was a woman he was at least acquainted with. And how could he know she was dead unless…

Unless Dean killed the woman who raped him. Tell me you didn't break the first rule…

John cleared his throat, swallowing back the anxiety at the thought of Dean committing murder. "Dean, you don't have to tell her-"

"How do you know?" Dr. Danlos was once again staring at her paperwork, scribbling madly as she spoke, her tone almost disinterested.

Dean realized his mistake and looked with a panicked expression to his father, who shook his head with a warning in his eyes. "I- I… She just is."

"Did you kill her?" The doctor asked nonchalantly, not even looking up.

"Dean-" John held up his hands, trying to stop the kid before he went into too much detail and got the cops called on him. That would be the last thing they needed. Cops made it so much more difficult to slip away without being seen.

"No! I would never… I just…" Dean sighed and let his head fall into his hands, curling up on the chair to make himself as small as possible. "I lived in her house for a long time and then her husband died and… she got in with some bad people and they…" He took a deep breath. "They killed her in front of me, okay? I know she's gone."

Hiccup.

John wanted to be sick. Her. It was her all along. How could I not have known? The way he talked about her… The nightmares... Oh, kiddo.

"Leave." The angered father put himself between Dr. Danlos and his sons, looming over her with his best 'don't mess with me' look.

Dr. Danlos wasn't fazed. "Mr. Bennett, I may not be the fluffiest doctor you've worked with, but I plan to provide the best care possible to your sons. Is there anything else I should know?"

The accusing look on her face almost sent John over the edge. He was normally against hitting women, but damn if Danlos wasn't getting on his last nerve. "They are safe with me. Go."

"I'll be back in a few hours. And remember, nurses are always within shouting distance." Dr. Danlos looked pointedly at all three boys in turn before she twirled on her heel and left the room in a sweep of loose blonde curls, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She better not be going to call the cops. When John turned around, Deans hands were shaking as they covered his face. "Hey, kiddo. We're getting out of here, okay?"

Hiccup.

"Very, very soon."

"Dad…" Sam called quietly, glancing between John and Dean a few times. "Was it… was it Lucy? She did that to him?"

"Sam, now's not the time-"

"Yeah." Dean sniffed his nose and turned over in the recliner, facing away from his father and brother. Only Cas could see the bright red eyes, the tears, the silent sobs from his place by the window. "'m sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." John said quietly, trying to fit a lifetime of understanding and acceptance into seven little words.

There wasn't any more talking for a long time after that. John went and sat beside the recliner in a plastic chair he found earlier in the day. He just rubbed Dean's back for a while, feeling every hiccup and quiet, heart-wrenching sob that racked his little boy's body.

They didn't stay long after that.

Bobby was a frantic ball of steam and fury when John finally got around to calling him on a new, not smashed phone. It was four days after they left the hospital and John had a raging headache from his recently diagnosed strep infection, shared so kindly by his youngest. Everyone had it at that point; being cooped up in a car with the germ ball for a few days wasn't exactly the best idea.

At least John managed to get everyone into a clinic and get antibiotics and cold medicine while they were on the road. The boys slept most of the time nowadays.

"Why the hell haven't you called me before now?!"

John had to turn the volume down on his phone; his ear was ringing already. Good ol' Bobby. "I take it you made a full recovery, then?"

"Like hell I did. They restrained me. Can you believe that? I tried to leave and they put straps on me and pink slipped me! For two days!"

"Tone it down, Bobby. I've got kids sleeping here." John said, glancing over at his boys, sound asleep on one and a half beds in the motel room they had for the night. Dean and Cas were splayed comfortably over one bed, the boys sharing space like they'd shared a womb, and Sam was taking up most of the other one. John would have to move the kid when it came time to hit the hay; maybe he was still sick enough to not wake up when John did it.

The mention of kids seemed to calm the older hunter down pretty quick. "They okay? Where are you?"

"They will be. That bastard got 'em pretty good but we only spent one night in the hospital, so… I guess, take what you want from that."

"You ganked that sonofabitch?"

"Yeah, but not before he bloodied all five of us."

"Damn. Anything serious with you and the boys?"

"Stitches and transfusions, mostly. Sam had surgery, but it went fine."

"How's Dean?"

John felt a gentle grin settle on his face. "He's healing. Happiest I've seen him since we found him and – get this – Sam got us all sick. Strep."

"Well ain't that just the frostin' on the cake."

John huffed a quiet laugh. He was hoping the noisy heater under the motel's only window would drown out the conversation and not wake the kids. It seemed to be working so far. "Tell me about it. But we're okay. Some stitches, bandages, yeah, but nothing I can't handle."

"Well I'm glad you finally found time in your busy schedule to call, ya jughead. Where are you?"

"We're in Raton, New Mexico. Headin' down to Temple to collect our things."

"You sure you wanna do that? What if-"

"I know, I know. We aren't staying for long. And the boys are staying outside the city until I can get everything we need from the house and a few more things from Cas' apartment. Well, assuming the landlord hasn't sold all his things and rented it out again. He made another list."

"What if you get ambushed?"

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he strolled toward the window to look out into the darkness. An occasional car would fly by on the highway not a hundred feet from their room, illuminating the scruffy landscape around the motel for a split second before it fell again into deep night. "I'll be in and out in under an hour. Unless Winthrop has more fangs on his side than we thought, I should be fine. Uh… Jeff so kindly donated some dead man's blood, so if anything goes wrong, I'm prepared."

"I was sorry to hear about 'im." Bobby said, a sorrowful tone to his voice.

"He protected my boys, Bobby. Died for 'em." John let out a heavy sigh.

"He did right by you."

Once the coroner released Jeff's body, John made sure his friend had a hunter's send-off. He left the kids at a motel – they were still sick at the time - but promised himself that he would tell everyone who asked about Jeff what the man did for his boys.

The silence that followed Bobby's words was interrupted only by the bellowing heater and a quiet 'oof, move your arm, Dean' and a slightly louder grunt from his oldest, followed by some shuffling and an annoyed groan. Domestic paradise. John smiled again.

"He sure did."

"Well, I'll call in some help-"

"Not Wallace. Please, spare me." John groaned, remembering the first recon trip to Temple.

"Nah, not Wallace. I got a guy in Louisiana, not far from Temple who can help ya. Name's Ehlers. He owes me one."

"I would appreciate the backup, Bobby. When can he be there?"

"I'm figurin' about the same time you'd get there. Maybe sooner. I'll send you the number and you can set it up."

"Thanks."

"And John?"

"Yeah?"

"You plannin' on stayin' in Temple long?"

"No. We're moving on as soon as I find a place. I can't risk CPS after how long they've been away from the school."

"Roger. Come on back to my place once you get outta there, then. I got somethin' for you and your boys."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"It's a surprise, ya idjit."

And it was a surprise, to say the least. When they got back to Bobby's house – after many days at motels and a few hurried but uneventful runs to the Temple apartments – there was a bunk bed in the spare room with another twin sized bed shoved against the other wall. And the basement was cleaned up, as much as could be expected, with a curtain hung to give privacy to a full sized bed, frame and all.

There hadn't been words enough for John to thank the old scruff for his generosity. Dean, the only boy with an impaired arm, had called top bunk. John rolled his eyes and let he and Sam have it out after the littlest whined in protest. Cas was happy just to have his own bed again, watching the brothers with a grin from the one pushed against the wall.

Bobby just chuckled at the bickering boys. Then he nudged John with his shoulder. "Y'know, Sioux Falls has a nice school, right in town. Smallish, but it rates pretty good."

John felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He knew the kids had to go back to school soon to keep the government off his case, but he'd been dreading finding a safe place for them to go. "I'll have to look into that."

"Already did. Got the forms and everything down in the kitchen. Not that I'm pushin' or anything."

John's smile got impossibly wider and he clapped the older man on the back. "Thanks, Bobby."

Home, sweet home.

Several weeks later.

The bruises were just faded memories now.

All three boys had little puncture scars on their necks that, when asked about them, would be attributed to acne and shrugged off.

John took Cas' stitches out and the kid had little scars on his legs. Nothing as bad as John feared he might end up with. Cas said with a shrug that he never really liked shorts anyway.

John also took Sam's stitches out and his littlest had a scar on his stomach. It was small, but noticeable; Sam didn't mind much. He said he would blame it on a shark attack. John and Dean both rolled their eyes at that one.

Dean did his time in the sling and finally didn't need it anymore. John made sure to ask the local doctor himself; he didn't want Dean sneaking out of his treatment early and causing more damage. The torn muscle seemed to heal better than expected and finally Dean's ligaments had tightened up and greatly reduced his risk of popping the joint out again by accident. Dean was practically jumping for joy when the doctor said he could take his sling off for good. The father wasn't prepared for how much his oldest son wanted to do after that. He worked out – pushups, jogging in the snow, weight lifting with things he found around the house – and cleaned. By the time John got back from work at the local garage the next day, the whole house was spotless and Dean was busy working on a car in the machine shed. John's busy bee finished all his antibiotics under the watchful eyes of his brother and father; his lungs cleared up and upon visiting the local clinic for the test, his chlamydia was completely gone. Time would tell if there was any scarring or fertility issues. Dean wasn't particularly worried. He had the family he'd always wanted.

Bobby got everyone pie that night 'just because'. Dean hadn't smiled so much in his whole life. He also hadn't eaten that much pie at one sitting in his whole life.

John had a sling to match Dean's for a good three weeks until the muscle that was cut healed up. He had to admit, it was a pain. Finally, he understood why Dean kept ditching his when his father wasn't looking. John did the same, when Dean wasn't watching.

The boys took to Sioux Falls High better than John could've hoped. Dean and Cas were juniors and Sam was deemed a freshman. John's little soldier didn't seem to mind that he wasn't a senior that year, with all the kids his age. He had a few classes with Cas and he was thriving with the help his new roomie provided.

Sam tried out for the soccer team and made it in mid-season – the school was very small and a few of their players had gotten hurt-, quickly becoming one of the stars of the team. His name was in the paper for two weeks before the season ended and he was invited to play indoor soccer with another team. John had no problem with it as long as Sam's grades didn't suffer. And they never did fall below straight A's.

The report card was put on the fridge right next to the headline 'Sam Winchester scores winning goal' in black print with the little article beneath it and a blurry photo of Sam in his soccer uniform, showing off on the field. John couldn't help but feel proud whenever he saw it.

Cas grew more and more comfortable with the Winchesters. He was still figuring out their quirks and buttons when John called him out to the driveway one snowy day.

He knew Cas still had his learner's permit. They spent the next three weeks driving around the scrap yard and the nearby country roads before John took him on the highway. Cas was a natural.

John wasn't surprised when Cas got his driver's license on the first try.

And John, well he was just happy to finally get to know his kids. Sam's epilepsy was finally controlled by the local doctor who spent weeks adjusting medicines to fit Sam's needs. Cas was finally opening up and could talk to everyone without shaking or showing signs of his nerves. And Dean was more than John ever hoped he would be. Brilliant like Sam, strong like his Daddy, and gentle with the younger kids just like Mary had been. He was fiercely protective of them, even from John. At least at that point he knew that his Dad only wanted the best for them. He would never hurt them.

Dean finally believed him.

A few weeks of healing and adjusting later, John came home from a checkup with all three boys at the local clinic to find the whole house decked out.

In Christmas decorations.

Sam's eyes lit up and practically bugged out of his head. His smile was bright enough to bring down low-flying planes.

Dean's smirk was half excitement and half nervousness. He couldn't remember ever having a Christmas. But he knew what they were like from TV. Maybe this would be like that? He hoped so.

Cas looked at all the cheap decorations with amusement; some were placed on bookshelves, others on stacks of books. Then he noticed all the stockings hung on the fireplace mantle. There was a stocking with his name on it. Granted, it was drawn on with permanent marker, but still. He was included.

He was part of the family. And that was enough to bring him to the verge of tears.

Then, as if to top it all off, Bobby came around the corner in his typical greasy work clothes and a very clean, new looking 'Santa' hat. One that was bright red with white trim and a white puff on the end. "I ain't gonna say it." He said gruffly before a huge smile lit up his face. "Tis the season, right?"

John huffed a laugh and shook his head. "I never thought I'd see you dress up like Santa Claus."

"It's just a hat, John." Bobby said as he brushed past the group and started going through a few bags on the counter. "I got… hot chocolate for the youngun's and eggnog for us men."

"Are those real candy canes?" Sam exclaimed, rushing forward to inspect the tree that stood right next to the fireplace.

"Yeah, but don't ruin your appetite. I got fruit cake." Bobby said.

"Gross." Sam muttered, waving Dean and Cas over to join him at the overly decorated, bright, twinkling tree.

"You really didn't have to do all this, Bobby." John said, joining him in the kitchen. "But I'm glad you did. I didn't even think about what time of the year it is."

"I know." Bobby handed John a glass of eggnog and clicked his against it before taking a sip. "Boys deserve a little merriment after the year they've had, huh?"

"I couldn't agree more." John let his gaze slide to where Sam was instructing Dean to get a candy cane from near the top of the tree, where he couldn't reach. The rest of them seemed to be gone already. John wondered where they'd gotten to.

"It's Christmas Eve, y'know." Bobby said, choosing to watch the boys like John had. He grinned as Dean got the requested candy but popped it in his mouth instead of handing it over, much to Sam's dismay.

"Deeeean!"

"I know now. Didn't even cross my mind. I've been writing the date on all those medical forms and it still didn't occur to me. I'm not a very good father, am I?"

"Oh, suck it up, Sammy. You have three in your pockets."

"Do not."

"But they're right there-"

"Shut up, Cas."

John chuckled at his boys.

"I think you're doin' alright." Bobby couldn't help but grin at Sam's pouting face.

"I'm glad someone does."

"They're alive, aren't they? They're happy-"

"Give it back!"

"No way, bitch."

"Jerk."

"Language, boys. Remember, sharing is caring, Sammy." John called over the ruckus, a smile on his face as Sam glared at him momentarily.

"Well, mostly happy, anyway. And they're healthy, doin' well in school, keepin' out of trouble. You're already better than half the parents out there."

"I have to be, Bobby. They depend on me." John felt the weight of three young lives on his shoulders and sighed. "I'm barely holding on."

"Well, keep up the 'holdin' on' then, cuz it's workin'." Bobby and John watched as Sam tackled Dean to the ground, fighting for his stolen candy canes. Cas just stood nearby, trying to decide whether to step in or just let them do their thing. This wasn't the first time they'd done that since they arrived back at Bobby's house. Cas wasn't used to siblings and he just figured roughhousing was normal. He'd only been pulled into it twice though, much to his relief.

"Been so long since I've been able to give Sam a decent Christmas. And Dean…" John shook his head. "Of course I would forget it the first chance I get to spend it with him in… way too long."

"They don't look upset in the least. They got you here and that's all that matters."

"Ah, dammit." John groaned, running a hand down his face. "I didn't get a chance to wrap any of the gifts. They've been clunking around in the trunk for like two weeks but I never got around to getting any wrapping paper."

"I think Santa's got that covered. Check the basement. I'll distract 'em for a while." Bobby donned a sly smirk and downed the rest of his eggnog before putting the glass down and storming into his living room. "Alright, y'all better quit with the horsin' around in my house. These books are one of a kind, originals…"

A chorus of 'sorry, Uncle Bobby' ran out before the gruff old hunter came up with an idea. "Hey, how about a Christmas movie?"

John couldn't help but feel amazed by how Bobby always had his back.

Sam's eyes shot open. It's Christmas! He leapt down from the top bunk – which he successfully commandeered from Dean the day they got the bunk beds – and shoved at Dean's shoulder. It's Dean's first real Christmas with me!

"Dean, Cas! Wake up, it's Christmas!" Sam practically shouted. When Dean let out an annoyed grunt, Sam ran over to Cas and did the same to him, practically rocking the whole bed in his hurry to wake his brothers. "C'mon, we gotta go downstairs."

"Why?" Dean grumbled, turning over in bed and blinking tiredly at Sam. He tugged his blankets up a little higher. It had been so long since his brain had to fire on all cylinders so quickly after waking up. He was going soft under John's watch, but he wasn't sure he felt bad about that. Getting to act his own age and be a kid was… nice, to say the least.

"It's Christmas. It's what you do. Get up."

"You just wake up super early and go downstairs for Christmas? Sounds lame." Dean muttered into his pillow, trying to remember what the TV characters did during their Christmas episodes. All he remembered were goofy looking pajamas, socks hung by nails and filled with goodies, and fireplaces. He hadn't seen many that he could remember. He wasn't really around televisions much after he was taken. At least, not ones he was allowed to control.

Sam flicked the lights on and both older boys groaned. "No, you go see the presents that Dad put out overnight."

"I thought it was supposed to be Santa?" Cas said as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. With a slight shiver, he pulled his blanket around his shoulders. Bobby's house had heat, sure, but this winter had been brutal and was constantly testing the old furnace in the basement. The boys' bedroom was chilly at the best of times, but this morning it was downright cold. Nothing the huge, fluffy, black blanket John got him couldn't fix though. Dean had a green one and Sam had a brown one to match. They had been 'first snow' gifts, according to one exasperated and overwhelmed father who hadn't anticipated the early frost and three shivering kids. Necessary gifts, but kind nonetheless.

John knew Cas had money all his own. Cas made sure he knew. But he paid for everything anyway, even when Cas tried to pay him back with the checkbook John himself retrieved from Cas' apartment in Temple. He never said why he wouldn't take the money. Cas just accepted it after a while, paying for what he could when John wasn't looking. The orphan knew he had more money than everyone else in the house combined but when he realized money really, actually didn't matter to them, he tried to make their lives easier in other ways. He'd taken to cleaning alongside Dean or doing the dishes after dinner. Everyone had their chores, but he picked up extra when he could.

Not that he minded. He felt like part of the family that way, not just some rich house guest. Cas never imagined staying with them so long and he sorta loved it. He just hoped John wouldn't kick him out any time soon.

"Santa's not real, Cas." Sam crossed his arms and resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the boy wrapped up in the blanket, just his face and some messy black hair showing. He looked like ET. "Everyone knows that."

"He's not real?" Dean sat up too and pretended to be shocked, just to see the look on Sam's face.

It was so worth it. Sam's face fell into an innocent panic. He thought he just ruined the secret for his big brother. The same secret he himself had been shielded from until the ripe age of eleven. Thanks Dad. "I- uh, he-"

"I know, Sam. I'm just messin' with ya." Dean grinned and stood, stretching his arms over his head and lavishing in the feeling of painlessly moving both joints. "So downstairs?"

"Jerk." Sam rolled his eyes and stomped out of the room, clomping loudly down the stairs while Cas and Dean caught up, the younger of the two remaining wrapped in his blanket.

"See? What did I tell you." Sam stood triumphantly before the Christmas tree, all lit up, and grinned. There were gifts of varying shapes and sizes under the boughs, some sparkling with shiny paper of several different colors, and some in plain cardboard boxes, sealed tight with packing tape.

"Whoa." Dean stopped in the doorway and took the sight in. It wasn't like TV at all. It was so much better because it had family in it. His family. This was real.

Cas stood beside Dean and smiled at the look of awe on his friend's face. He didn't really expect anything in that pile to be for him, but it was a pretty scene nonetheless. A cheap plastic Christmas tree decked out with dollar-store ornaments and tinsel, bright colored lights and a few random things from around Bobby's house. It was nestled between the fireplace and the pile of books closest to the wall, infringing on the tomes and making Cas worry about fire hazards. Luckily, he knew the lights hadn't been on long enough to get hot enough to catch fire yet. He'd been in the bathroom when he heard familiar footsteps and the lights click on not an hour ago.

Pulling the blanket closer around his body, Cas ambled to the couch and sat down with a huff, his tired eyes already wanting to close again.

Sam looked to the hallway when he heard the basement door open. "Dad?" He called excitedly, a grin on his face.

"Sounds like a herd of elephants up here." John yawned and rubbed at his eye, straightening his gray tee shirt as he did so. "Well hey, look what Santa brought." He leaned against the door jamb between the kitchen and the living room, crossing his arms with a smile on his face.

"Really, Dad?"

"Really, Sammy. What, you don't think a magical fat man in a red suit came to hand deliver those for you boys?" John winked and Sam rolled his eyes with a grin.

"C'mon, Dad. I'm thirteen now."

"Yeah, and I just barely managed to make it up here before you tore into those presents, squirt."

"Don't call me squirt." Sam mumbled, already on his knees beside the tree. He picked up a package and turned it over in his hands, looking for a name and listening for any telltale thumps or rattles from the box so he could figure out what it was before it got opened. It was one of his favorite Christmas morning games. He played it at birthday parties too.

"Well go on, Dean. Check it out." John motioned to the tree when he saw his eldest looking a bit lost in all the color and novelty. The father looked on as his oldest glanced excitedly from the tree to his father and back again. The kid walked over and knelt next to Sam, shifting to sit cross legged in front of the fireplace as he studied the nearest gift. It was a small, lopsided, bumpy tube of a thing.

Everyone looked up at the ceiling when they heard two dull thuds and footsteps soon after that. "Tryin' a sneak around now, are we?" Bobby grumbled as he trudged down the stairs. "Y'know it's only five in the morning, right?"

"Tell that to Sammy." Dean nodded to his brother, who already had a small pile of gifts stacked up, all of which had SAMMY written on them sloppily in permanent marker.

"Lemme guess. First one up was the last one out?" Bobby asked, sitting down beside Cas on the couch with a tired groan.

"Last one out?" Dean's tired eyes squinted as he turned the tube over in his hands. "He was first outta the room by a mile."

"Outta the womb. Youngest one?" Everyone stared at him with a mixture of amusement and confusion. "This generation, I tell ya." The older man muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's just a sayin'."

"How'd you know Sam was up first?" Cas yawned and pulled his feet up to tuck them under his blanket.

"Had a feeling." Bobby watched Sam and Dean, Sam mostly, dig through the gifts and separate them out, giving them to the person whose name was written on them.

Sam had four, Dean had three, and a very surprised Cas had three as well.

"Boy…" Bobby said pointedly, nodding at Sam.

"Oh, wait!" Sam shot up and raced up the stairs, returning a few seconds later with two packages. He checked the names written neatly on each before giving one to Dad and one to Uncle Bobby.

"What's this?" John asked, surprised that he was getting something too.

"Open it and see." Dean said, smiling.

Cas and Bobby were watching with a slight grin on their faces as well.

"Did you gang up on me?" Carefully, John turned the package over in his hands. It was almost flat, maybe an inch thick, and about the size of a post card.

"Just open it, idjit. You know the drill." Bobby said, a hint of humor in his tone.

John slowly tore the bright red paper from the package and was left with a tan leather binder in his hands. He flipped it open and found picture after picture of he and his family, all taken in the last few weeks. There was Dean in his sling, cleaning up after dinner one night with a smile on his face as he laughed at the camera. There was Sam, leaning over an engine block, straining to see what Bobby was pointing to from the other side of the machinery, his long hair falling partially into his face, with grease marks up and down his arms to match the ones on Bobby's clothes. There was Cas, driving one of Bobby's beaters in the scrap yard, the nervousness he felt plainly visible on his face, even through the windshield.

John realized he was in every picture. Working behind Dean, smiling at Sam's curiosity, showing Cas how to use the emergency brake – never paying attention to the camera.

His boys had been taking photos while he was making memories with them. They'd been planning this gift for a while. And John never even noticed.

Tears jumped to John's eyes as he looked from the shining plastic pages of the photo album to the smiling faces of his kids and his best friend.

He blinked hard and saw stars when something flashed and Bobby laughed wholeheartedly. "That one's for the last page, there."

Embarrassed, John wiped at his eyes and glared at the camera in Bobby's hands. It was just a cheap little thing. Who would've known its work would mean so much to John?

"This is… It's great, boys. Really. Thank you." John couldn't help but run his thumb over the soft leather cover. It had the word 'Winchester' pressed into it. Looked homemade. He knew Bobby had the tools in his basement, but it also looked like someone inexperienced did it. One of the kids, then.

One of John's boys.

"It was their idea." Bobby said, motioning to all three boys. "I just supplied the camera."

"I love it."

"Now open yours, Uncle Bobby." Sam said, an innocent, excited grin on his face.

The man did as he was told, a rich smile lighting up his face. Throwing the paper down, he held up what had looked like a football-sized blob from beneath the wrapping. A baseball glove.

"So you don't gotta use that old worn out one anymore when you play with us." Sam said excitedly. "Dean and Cas and me picked it out just for you."

"Thanks, boys." Bobby turned the glove over in his hands and tried it on. It was a little tight and stiff, but it would stretch with time. He hadn't gotten a new glove in years.

"Now yours." John said, setting the album on the side table before sitting beside Bobby, leaning in so his elbows were on his knees. "Ready, set, go!"

Sam got the message and immediately started tearing into his largest gift; all three boys had one big, cockeyed, lumpy gift that looked the same but wrapped in different paper. The other two boys followed suit, grabbing the big package first. Within a minute, each was admiring their own new backpack, all different colors. Inside each was a set of twin sheets.

"I didn't feel like wrapping the sheets. So there you go." John leaned back in his seat and shrugged.

"Thought it was s'posed to be Santa doin' the wrappin'." Bobby smirked at John, who rolled his eyes with a grin of his own.

"Thanks, Dad."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Thank you, Mr. Winchester."

"Keep goin'." John encouraged halfheartedly. "The sooner you get this over with the sooner I can go back to bed."

"Like that's gonna happen." Bobby mumbled, nudging John with his elbow. "They're up now, Winchester. You got breakfast duty today."

"Cool!" Sam exclaimed, having opened his next gift. It was a photo in a small, black frame. "Is this…?"

"It's us. Me, your mom, Dean, and you when you were about five months old." John watched his littlest's face light up with a huge smile and he knew his gamble had paid off. All the pictures John had been hiding for most of Sam's life had new meaning now. Sam knew he had a brother. Knew he had always had a brother. Knew that brother was everything he needed him to be. Now he could share memories with his boys freely without having to censor them. Hopefully, that photo would be just the beginning of his apology to both boys and retelling their story in its truest light.

"I got one too, Sam." Dean said, holding his next gift in front of Sam. It was a similar picture, in an identical frame. This one, though, was the whole family outside, posing in front of a big tree with a white house in the background. "Is that… is that Mom?"

Wait… he doesn't remember her. Well, how could he? He didn't grow up with pictures of her. No one to talk about her, tell him stories. "Yeah. That's your mother."

Dean looked at the picture for a few more seconds before he sniffed his nose and cleared his throat, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. "She looks happy."

"She was. She had you two."

"I miss her." Dean's voice was barely a whisper.

"Me too." Sam said, looking at his own photo. "I've never seen these pictures before. Dad only had like three without you in 'em."

"We lost a lot in the fire, and then… y'know." John ducked his head, not wanting to get into that old argument again. He had hoped Sam moved past all that by now.

"I know." Sam set the picture aside and picked up another gift, his arms feeling ten times heavier with the weight of the conversation he chose to avoid still pulsing through him. Not the time. Gotta let Dean have his first Christmas. Gotta make it a good memory for him.

Dean ran his sleeve over his eyes and under his nose and did the same thing, picking up the forgotten tube. John had successfully avoided a Sam argument, for which Dean was grateful.

"A journal?" Cas' voice broke the fragile silence.

"And a pen." John added, just as Cas found the pen between the pages of the blank book. Everyone glanced over, silently comparing Cas' new treasure to their own journals. "It's kind of a tradition in our family now. Gives us a place to write down important facts, memories, whatever."

A family tradition. Cas smiled at the dark leather cover.

"Like how to kill a wendigo." Sam said absently as he shook his next package next to his head, trying to figure out what it was. That's not such a bad idea… Gotta add that to my journal.

"Yeah." John chuckled. "Or anything else you want to remember."

"Whoa…"

Everyone turned to watch Sam finish unwrapping his third gift. A remote control monster truck, standing eight inches tall. It had been in Bobby's basement for months; John had to special order it and have it shipped to the house when Sam wouldn't stop talking about it earlier that year. He saw it on TV at a motel late one night and two weeks later, John finally had the phone number and stood outside a different motel room, ordering it over the phone.

"Thanks, Dad!" Sam started to open the box, wanting to play with it immediately, but John held out a hand.

"Finish unwrapping your gifts, Sammy."

"It's Sam." He grumbled, setting the box aside – and well out of arm's reach of Dean and Cas – before picking up his last gift. "I know this one's a book."

"And how do you know that?" John asked with a sheepish grin. He hadn't tried every hard to conceal the forms of the gifts and he knew Sam would guess that one. But he didn't think the kid would be able to guess what book it was.

"How could I not?" Sam muttered, wasting no time in ripping the shining paper off. He was honestly surprised when he saw what the book was. With wide eyes, he looked to his father. "How did you…?"

"Parent-teacher conferences back at Central Middle School. Ms. Smith couldn't get over how much you talked about the knights of the round table." John smiled as his littlest cracked open the big book. It was an informational, educational thing, thick with printed, full color images of historical pictures and tapestries and artefacts that had survived the test of time. It was all about what the top scientists and historians knew about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

John saved his money for a full week to buy it at a store in one of the bigger cities they'd had a long term stay in during the past year. Couldn't use his card; they still had a three weeks left in the town and the book was a special item in the book store Sam dragged him to one day. Sammy missed it, but John went back that evening to find only two copies were still there, out of about thirty that afternoon. Needless to say, he took it to the register and asked the cashier if he could do a special lay away for his boy. After explaining their situation as honestly as he could, the kindhearted man allowed the request.

And now Sam was completely absorbed in the thing and lost to the world.

"Cool…" He breathed as he flipped page after page.

"Thank you, Mr. Winchester." Cas' voice had John pulling himself out of his own little world. The boy was holding up a small black rectangle. The phone John gifted him.

"You're welcome, kiddo. Got all the numbers in there already, so you're good to go. Call whoever you want, and if you need a new one, just let me know. That's one of the pricier ones I've ever bought, but it's not near top of the line, just in case."

"Thanks." Cas flipped the phone open and started pressing buttons, as lost in his phone as Sam in his book.

A soft gasp redirected John's attention yet again.

Dean was holding a crumpled wad of wrapping paper in one hand and his final gift in the other, both held tight and still before him. Dangling from his left hand were his beads. The beads. The bloodied, stained, beat up, loved, grounding beads. His name beads. On a new, slick black string with a key ring on one end, sturdy enough that he'd never have to worry about losing them again.

But it was a bit longer than before, because attached underneath DEAN was now a perfectly white set of letters that spelled out the name he'd forgotten for over a decade. WINCHESTER.

"It's…"

"Yeah. How could I ever get rid of them, y'know?" John cleared his throat. He hadn't been expecting to get all teary eyed and emotional himself.

Dean looked up to him, amazement and disbelief in his expression. "You- you picked 'em up? After they broke?"

"Yeah. I found all of 'em except your first name beads."

Dean looked back down to the string in his hand and admired the difference in coloring and wear between the letters. Seems like a pretty good representation. I'm all beat up and spent but with them… Shiny and new. "I was holding onto those. When Winthrop broke the necklace. I had those in my hands, trying to stop him from snapping it. Trying to get away." The words were just whispers.

That didn't stop John from dropping off the couch and wrestling both boys into a big bear hug, much to the littest's dismay. "Dad-"

"I love you boys, more than life itself. You know that, right?" John said as he released his kids. He looked over to Cas and motioned for him to join them on the floor. Cas did. Slowly, cautiously. He didn't want to get dragging into another wrestling match.

"You never said that before, Dad." Sam spoke slowly, almost as if talking would ruin the fragile illusion. "Is somethin' wrong? Are you okay?"

John grinned and wiped his eyes on his sleeve before sniffing his nose and barking a humorless laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just fine. I should say that more often, huh? Don't wanna scare ya."

"Love you, too, Dad." Sam smiled and leaned back in for another hung, letting his inner little boy get all the attention he needed before the moment was over and he had to put on the big kid exterior again. Although maybe he wouldn't have to wear that as often now…

"You sure?" Dean asked, looking down at his beads, thumbing over the DEAN ones carefully and avoiding the clean ones.

"I'm fine, kiddo. No worries." John said, clapping Dean lightly on the back. He let out a relieved breath when his action, which could have elicited fear and distrust and a defense response, didn't even make the kid flinch.

"No, about…"

Realization flash onto John's face. He moved so that he was in front of his oldest and squared his hsoulders up to the boy's. With both hands, he took Dean's shoulders and held on until the kid looked up. "I love you, son. I've loved you since the day your mama told me you were comin'. Nothing, nothing, will ever change that. Understood?"

Dean sniffed loudly and nodded, feeling tears form in his eyes as he struggled to keep his breaths coming slowly and evenly. "Yeah." One big sob escaped and before he knew it, he was smushed into John's chest, being hugged as tightly as ever. The feeling of safety and value was oh so sweet. "Love you too."

Bobby waited a good minute before he got up and started making breakfast.

He knew there was no way John was going to make it.

Not when his boys needed him right where he was.

A/N: I'm not crying, you're crying. I love warm fuzzy endings, don't you? I really hope you enjoyed this story; please let me know if you did, or what you thought, and if I should keep going with the whole JB universe or not.

Shoutout to everyone who stuck by me even though this story took forever to write and post. And a special shoutout to the people who, as of today, can read this whole thing in one sitting. I am amazed by you.

But really, thank you for supporting me and reading this. I love writing and you guys make it so much better.

Don't forget to leave a review and follow/favorite me. I have a few other stories with similar writing styles, and I'd love for you to check those out and leave a review saying you read JB (John's Boys).

Until next time, hunters.

-Vivi