I don't own supernatural. The same goes for the rest of the story, just in case I forget.
WARNINGS! Probably a bit of swearing, because let's face it; they're Winchesters. AUness. A little OOCness. Major cuddling, because I just can't resist.
We never really knew exactly what the Winchesters were like when they were younger, so don't think I'm really exaggerating all that much.
FYI: Sam is small because I made him small for this story. At fourteen he was tiny. I figure he would actually hit his growth spurt around fifteen, but for the sake of this story he doesn't. For this story, he's still small because he didn't really get all that much food when he was younger. John left Sam and Dean alone for weeks as kids with no means of earning money; they had to have gone hungry sometimes. When Sam gets a good amount of food (aka when he's at Stanford) he'll grow, but he starts out small. There's another reason for that too, but it's included in the story, so if you read you'll find it.
Chapter 1 An Uncle and A Father
It had started out as a normal day. Sam was arguing with their father about the best way to salt the doors and windows, of all things. Dean was ignoring them in favor of the much more important task of staring to unpack in their latest home.
It was in the middle of Sam's statement that it would be better to put liquid cement on the top of the door and lay salt down along there (which Dean honestly thought was a good idea because it would protect not only them, but also whoever lived here after them) that the day turned odd.
The door slammed open in a move that had everyone in the immediate vicinity diving for their weapons and coming up with a rather odd assortment of things. John had a bottle of holy water, Sam had a silver knife, and Dean had a gun filled with rock salt.
None of this seemed to matter, however, to the two men who entered through the doorway.
"Jonathan Michel Winchester, where have you been?" a loud voice yelled.
Dean stared incredulously as an absolutely huge man lumbered in and threw his arms around Dean's father.
"D-Danny?" John asked in a strangled voice. "Danny-can't…can't breath," his father tried again when his first question had no effect whatsoever on the bigger man.
"You deserve it you little bitch," the man that their father obviously knew growled. "Do you have any idea how worried we've been about you? We all thought you were dead, John, dead."
"That was kind of the point," John muttered distractedly as he tried to squirm away from mystery man one.
"Daniel, stop; I think you're scaring the children," mystery man two said with a frown. He had neglected to see that Dean was holding a gun, and Sam a knife.
"Oh," the man called Danny blinked. "Sorry Jonny; didn't mean to scare the rugrats."
"I highly doubt you did any lasting damage to them. Now my ribs though….that's a different story," John grumbled back, rubbing the offended area.
"That's what you get when you don't even contact your big brother for over ten years," Danny replied sharply.
"Who are they, Dad?" Dean asked, carefully keeping the gun aimed at Danny while Sam's knife was inconspicuously pointed at mystery man two.
"You can lower the gun now Dean," John replied dryly. "Knives aren't necessary either Sammy. This is my father," he pointed to mystery man two, "and my older brother; your Uncle Danny," he finished, gesturing at Danny.
"You have a brother?" Sam asked as he reluctantly lowered his knife. Dean seemed even less keen on putting down his gun.
"How do we know it's really then?" he asked suspiciously. "Why are they suddenly showing up now after sixteen years.
"We live here," his grandfather informed him. "Danny's wife works in the school administration, so when you went to sign your brother up she mentioned you to us."
"You got married?" John asked curiously.
"Got hitched with Misty a little while after you disappeared. Spent around eight months lookin' for you, but after that Mom made me stay home and try to settle down. It was either Misty, or Eloise. You know how I always hated Eloise," Danny shuddered.
"So Misty and I had a marriage of friendship. We eventually started loving each other and now we're happily married and settled with three kids."
"Wow." John whistled, clearly impressed. "You got the apple pie life. I didn't think that was possible for a Winchester."
"Apple pie life?" his father asked.
"Yeah, y'know; wife, kids, a house that you actually live in for longer then a month, the works," John smirked.
"You got some explaining to do, boy. Right now though you can re-introduce me to my grandchildren." The oldest Winchester's voice had started out stern, but faded to soft eagerness during the last sentence. Danny looked up from his study of his youngest brother with interest at that request.
"Well, this is Dean. I'm sure you remember your uncle and grandfather, Dean?" John asked as he put a hand on his oldest son's shoulder. "And for Lords sakes will you please put down the gun!" he added with exasperation as he caught sight of the still ready for use weapon in Dean's hands.
Dean eyed his relatives distrustfully for a second, then grabbed the holy water from John. With no regard to his father's attempts to stop him or his uncle and grandfather's personal feelings, he threw holy water all over the two of them. When that failed to have any effect he grabbed salt out of his pockets and threw that too. After that Sam (who had been subtly creeping up behind the two men) nicked them with the silver knife.
"We're good," he called to his big brother.
"Right then," Dean said, holding his hand out to his still spluttering family. "Names Dean." He finally put down his gun.
"Satisfied now?" John asked dryly.
"Completely," Dean answered happily. John rolled his eyes.
"You know you could've done that a lot better if you hadn't just done it straight to their faces?" Sam asked. "You would have an advantage because they wouldn't know that you knew that they weren't really them."
"That was so confusing that I don't even want to think about it Sammy," Dean said with and eye roll.
"What was that?" Danny asked warily.
"You don't have to worry; I'm not going to chuck anything else at you," Dean gave an evil grin. "…Or am I?"
"No, you are not," John answered firmly.
"Aw common Dad; you just ruined my ability to keep them in suspense, never knowing if I was actually going to do anything or not," Dean complained in a tone close to a whine.
"Don't whine, Dean. You're twenty years old now, not two," John instructed distractedly.
"Well that was certainly…interesting," Danny seemed to choose his words carefully.
"Dean has trust issues," John supplied.
"And paranoia issues," Sam piped in.
"I do not," Dean protested, looking affronted.
"Dean, the last time we went grocery shopping the woman tried to hand you back your change and you nearly broke her arm," John reminded him.
"Well how was I supposed to know she wasn't trying to drug me?" Dean asked.
They had been in the middle of a particularly difficult hunt at the time with a monster who poisoned people by touching them. It was a valid concern. Dean had been deep in his thoughts when he saw a hand coming towards him, and he panicked.
His father and baby brother simply rolled their eyes and chose not to respond.
"And this is Sam," John finished, resting his hand on top of Sam's curly head. His little boy was still unbelievably short. He had thought Sam would hit a growth spurt sometime soon, but it seemed his baby was determined to stay small.
"Oh my God he's adorable!" Danny practically squealed as he turned his attention on his youngest nephew for the first time. Sammy just gave him the urge to pick him and cuddle. This was not an urge he was used to resisting around his own children, so he simply acted on impulse and swept his youngest nephew into his arms. He wasn't even thinking about how the kid had to be at least fifteen now.
Indeed, especially if the squeal Sam gave when he was suddenly lifted into the air was anything to go on, he would've said the boy was around eight or nine at the most.
Sam looked around with pathetic confusion written all over his face, and it just made him look even younger.
"I told you Sam was cute," Dean smugly told their father. "He made a Winchester squeal. And it wasn't me this time!"
Sam went bright red.
"Dean, he's sixteen. I'm not using the 'I have a cute little son who needs his daddy' card anymore," John answered with rolled eyes.
"Why not? It would work instantly. All Sammy would have to do was stand there and give them some puppy dog eyes," Dean argued.
"He's sixteen?" Danny asked with much surprise.
"You need to eat more Kid," he said, turning his attention back to Sam.
The boy was fidgeting uncomfortably in his arms like he wasn't used to being held. But Danny knew that couldn't be right, because that wasn't how Winchesters rolled.
Quiet honestly he would have absolutely no reservation about plunking John down on his lap, even now that his brother was an adult. John was the baby of the family. He was the one everyone always cooed over and held. That didn't change, no matter how old they got. Now that had been passed on to Sammy.
Their family had been that way for as long a Danny could remember, and it wasn't about it change anytime soon. Danny really hoped Sam didn't mind being babied and protected.
It would've been his youngest boy, Brian, who was the family baby, but the Winchester chain of age was complicated.
In their family, John was the youngest. Any children that Danny had would be counted as older because they were children of the older brother. Any children John had would be counted as younger because they were children of the youngest son. The ages of the children didn't really matter at all.
"Stop squirming kiddo," he instructed. "You act like you've never been held before."
"Um…" Sam cast a helpless look at his father and brother.
"Good luck," Dean said instantly. "I remember when I was the youngest; you're going to be lucky if he puts you down at all after this." He shuddered for effect.
"But I can walk," Sam protested, sounding puzzled.
"Not the point," his grandfather told him, running a hand through Sam's hair. "You're the youngest; you're going to get coddled and picked up and carried around. That's just the way we roll. Especially since you're so small."
Sam's confusion was nearly palpable, but for now it would go ignored.
"We are going back to the family house where you will be staying, and you will be telling the whole family why you allowed us to believe you were dead," Hadrian Winchester then informed his son in a very stern voice. He sounded like he was scolding a young child for petulant behavior.
"But-" John started to protest.
"No arguing John. I don't care if I have to drag you there by your ear; you will be coming."
"Yes sir," John answered, defeated. It was the first time Sam had ever seen his father defeated by anything less then a strong punch to the head.
"Dean go head and pack back up what you just unpacked. Grab your brother's stuff too; you know how your uncles get," John instructed Dean.
"Yes sir," Dean answer automatically.
It only took them three minutes to be walking out the door.
Walking towards an actual family dinner that didn't include Dad passed out on the couch. Sam couldn't help but wonder what was in store for them…
So some people might think it's odd to be picking up and carrying around people, but that's kind of the way my family works.
When my aunt was twenty my great grandmother would still sit my aunt on her lap because my aunt was the "baby" of the family.
Just some back ground info.