if anyone wonders why this looks like this is the story from last year that is because it is, I hadn't corrected the formatting and it has been bothering me. so I did what I could. I don't know if the website is gonna act like it is a new story. if it does and you have already read this story then I am sorry. and if you haven't read it then I hope you do. it is based on a story from my father and I have adapted it for this fandom. please enjoy.

The Year That Santa Was A Badass

Peter gave off another mighty laugh that came deep from within his belly " HO, HO, HO". He loved his job. He especially loved the numerous ways he could do nonhunter things while still being huntsmen.

For example, here he was in a small mini-mall dressed as the mythical character of Santa Clause. And while Port knew that the Fat Man was real that didn't stop him from growing a beard and putting on the big red suit every December.

So here he was bringing Hope and Joy to the children who didn't know he was possibly the single most deadly hunter on Remnant. And the peace of mind to all the parents who had heard of his exploits and knew their children were probably safer here than they were at home. The role of Santa was one that Huntsmen were specially equipped to fill. After all beyond the obvious need to be talented warriors to fight the Grimm true hunters also needed to be symbols of hope in times of hopelessness, a light shining in the dark.

This meant that they needed to be able to read a crowd and know what they needed to hear in order to raise their spirits. That same skill carried over well to looking into the hearts of children and guessing what they truly desired for Christmas. He had a great love for the ones who were more worried about others than themselves. He had one kid ask for her baby sister to get what she wanted and that she just wanted daddy to smile again. As he looked he saw a man who seemed to be using all of his willpower to keep a small smile on his face and seemed to be on the losing end of that battle.

Peter knew this man, and he knew why he had such a hard time smiling. His name was Taiyang Xiao Long. he was a hunter once proud and full of life and love. Until his first wife left him and his second wife died. His oldest daughter had begun to in a manner of speaking be a sort of pseudo mom for her baby sister. And here she was asking for her baby sister to get what she asked for and for her father to smile again.

She probably didn't understand how much her words meant to him. He had seen many people before her in this scenario, they always seemed to crack and they never recovered. But she was standing tall even now at the age of 11 she was showing the courage equal to that of a grown huntress.

Then there were the kids who asked for things that made his heartburn with the unholy rage fit to melt the polar ice caps. One such kid came to him and asked that her big brother be safe this year. In and of itself the request seemed like a worried baby sister being afraid for no real reason. But this was different.

He also knew this child. She was Joan Winchester her mother had died too. She was the daughter of the renowned huntsman and known anti-fannus supporter John Winchester. Why the man felt that the humans who had animal DNA crossed with their own were somehow inferior was a question that Peter would ask himself until the end of time. And here was his daughter asking… no pleading, for one thing, this year. as she sat in Port lap and he leaned down to hear her whisper she said: "I want big brother to be safe this year.".

Her brother was 11 years old. Whatever was happening that Joan felt the need to ask Santa for help he would not allow it to continue. He decided then and there that he would put a stop to it.

Joan sat on the ground crying under big brother Cardin, who was doing everything in his power to protect her from their father's wrath. Her father had caught her playing with the Faunus girl at the park again. He quickly dragged her back home and began yelling at her about how she was above talking with such savage scum and that she needed to remember from now on that she couldn't play with them as they were beneath her.

He said that this was not something that he wanted to do, but something he had to do. She had already begun to cry in anticipation of the pain of what was to come. Even as he pulled his belt from his waist, she knew that there was nothing she could do but wait for it to stop. And yet the pain never came. Instead, she felt herself being held by a pair of small but still strong arms. She opened her eyes to see Cardin her big brother shielding her from her father. This wasn't the first time this had happened and the next step was so routine that she had already taken his hand in preparation.

They both heard the buckle on her father's belt begin to rattle as he prepared to strike his son with the weighted metal buckle of his belt. She felt Cardin's hands tighten around her own as he gritted his teeth waiting for the pain. But none came. And after a moment they both looked and saw that one John was gone, so were the cookies and milk, and there were presents under the tree all of them addressed to either Cardin or Joan from Santa.

John Winchester never even knew what happened. One minute he was about to teach his rebellious son a lesson about opposing him. And now he was outside in the snow with, was that Santa?

He never got an answer as the red-clad round man put what seemed to be a snow globe into his pocket and rushed upon him and grabbed him by the leg. Deftly lifting him into the air and slamming him down on his head. His world was spinning as the man lifted him into the air by his collar. A feat that was made even more noteworthy by the fact that the man in red was at least a foot shorter than John.

As he spoke John could tell that this was in no way a strain for him to do. "Let me make myself very clear. You will never lay a hand on either of them again. And if you do then it won't be just your wrist that I break. The look of confusion on John's face vanished as Santa grabbed his right wrist and squeezed. The joint gave off a very satisfying crackling sound as all of the little bones shattered. He dropped him to the ground and left him there to get up on his own.

As he looked he saw the face of the man's son Cardin Winchester staring at him and his father in the backyard from the back door of his house. Port knew that the boy would always carry the scars of his father's hate. Both the mental and physical ones. But he would never again face that man's fury. Because he sees you when your sleeping and he knows when you are awake. He knows if you have been bad or good.

So John Winchester will be good if not for goodness sake, then for his own. But one thing was sure. Cardin and John Winchester would both remember the year with a badass Santa Clause.