Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing at all. Really.
Summery: Logan's search for answers leads him to Sunnydale. Will he find what he's been looking for? Or only end up with more questions?
Authors Note: This is set after the first X-men movie, and a few months after the Initiative was filled in with cement on Buffy. There may be a little Logan/Buffy in there somewhere, although I'm not having them jump each other right off the bat. They're too busy bickering right now to get any warm and fluffy feelings. I hope I put this in the right catagory.
Reviews are worshiped. If you like it, hate it or feel the need to tell me I shouldn't quite my day job, bring it on. I wanna know what ya'll think. The second chapter has already been written and will be posted shortly if there's some interest in the story.
Italics indicate memories.
Logan parked the bike in front of the seediest bar in town, well, it was the only bar in town but that didn’t make a difference. He needed a drink, something to wash away the memory of why he was here in the first place. Not that they’d ever made a drink that could do that. Maybe he’d live long enough to find out if they could.
He strode into the bar, sizing up the occupants as he made his way to the barstool furthest from the entrance. Two rednecks by the door, a man and a woman bickering about some sort of nonsense across the room, and several guys who seemed to worship the leather god playing pool near the back. He mentally cataloged this, why he wasn’t sure, but it was what he did, out of habit more than anything else.
He order a beer, popping a few cashews into his mouth from the nut bowl. Why was he here? It could be a trap and he’d have walked right into it. But he had a lingering sense of hope that maybe this time, just maybe he had a solid lead on the organization that had given him a good mindfuck. And that was all that mattered. Find them, kill them, the end. The need for revenge was overwhelming and he didn’t have any trouble giving in to it.
And that need had lead him here. Wherever the hell that was. Some middle of nowhere little town in California. Sunnydale. Which he thought was rather ironic since the entire place had a lingering smell of fear. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he knew that it was different some how. It had a sort of negative energy that he couldn’t ignore. He scowled, Jean would mock him endlessly if she knew he was thinking in terms of ‘energies’ and all that psychic crap.
He finished off half his beer. Wondered if maybe he was meant to be here. If any one person radiated negative energy it was probably him. Maybe it was just inevitable that he’d end up in a town that seemed as angry as he felt.He had went back to Alkaline Lake. Searching for something, anything that could lead to an answer. He knew going in that it was a lost cause, nothing left but ruins and yet there he was, sifting through what scattered debris remained. Nothing useful. He had turned to leave when his foot landed on something small, yet hard enough that he could feel it under his boot. He reached down to pick it up, revealing a blank dog tag, not even connected to a chain yet. He remembered feeling a slight relief at that moment, maybe because it meant that whoever was supposed to wear that tag never had to. Maybe they got off easier than he did.
But then he flipped it over, the smooth mental reveling small type across the bottom of the tag. “Sunnydale Unit 115”
It had to mean something. This little tag was a possible missing piece from his shattered past, maybe it could lead him to answers, and if not, then at least he’d get to kick some ass along the way.
He frowned at the memory, reaching inside his pocket to make sure the tag was still there. He was just about to order another drink when he saw her come in. She was tiny, blonde and beautiful, of course. This was California after all, he didn’t expect much less. She seemed to scan the room, much like he did when he first arrived, before walking up to the bar and casting a steely gaze onto the man behind it. She was confident. Too confident and he wondered where the hell that came from. He hoped she didn’t do anything stupid and need him to rescue her. He hated it when that happened.
Immediately the bartender tensed, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “I don’t know anything. I swear.”
She crossed her arms, tilted her head at him, seemingly annoyed at his outburst. “I didn’t even ask you anything yet, and when I do your answer better be something different.”
“Come on Buffy, really, I’m just tryin’ to run a business here, I can’t have ya coming in at all hours and scaring off my customers.”
Logan noted the name, Buffy. How unfortunate for her. He looked around the room and saw that several of the patrons were getting up to leave, the bickering couple had been silenced and the leather clad bikers had stopped playing pool. None looked at the bar, but seemed ready to flee if the need arose. He wondered what they were so afraid of. This girl? He had to stifle a chuckle at the thought. The conversation across from him continued and he busied himself with the nut bowl to cover the fact that he was eavesdropping.
“I need to know if you’ve herd anything about a bunch of ‘commandos‘ coming through town. Big guys, camouflage, the works. And don’t try and play me, Willie.”
The girl nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“Few Larz demons were bitchin’ about it couple a nights ago. Said one of their buddies got captured near the old cemetery down on Brookside Lane...and that’s all I know, I swear. I only caught the tail end of the convo.”
The girl seemed satisfied with this. “See, now that wasn’t so hard was it? You’ve done your good deed for the day Willie.”
The bartender visibly relaxed as the she turned to leave and the rest of the room seemed to exhale a collective breath before returning back to normal. Now this was interesting. Although how this tiny little thing could instill so much fear was beyond him, and what the hell were Larz demons? But that wasn’t his concern anymore. She could know something that may be able to help him, her ‘commandos’ could be part of this mystery unit he was searching for.
He got up to leave, tossing a few bills on the counter and walking toward the exit, wondering how he was going to find out what she knew. Taking the less tactful route and coming straight out with the ‘I’m a mutant ‘ angle didn’t usually instill trust in people, and as much as he liked a good fight he wasn’t about to wipe the floor with a girl for information. Yet he somehow doubted that she’d run away screaming in fright of the big bad mutant. Maybe she should, but he detected a certain amount of arrogance from her that he knew all too well. He also detected something distinctly different about her. She didn’t smell like a mutant, but she didn't seem entirely human either.
No, he’d follow her until she lead him to something useful.
Logan scowled. He’d been tailing her for at least twenty minutes. He’d expected her to drive away and was about to get on his bike when he noticed that she was going to walk. Did she have a death wish? It was the middle of the night and they weren’t exactly in a ‘safe’ neighborhood. Didn’t people drive in California anymore?
He saw her enter a cemetery about thirty paces ahead of him. He was out of sight and doubted that she even knew he was there but he kept back further just in case. He watched as she strode through the graveyard, looking for something, what he wasn’t sure but she was definitely searching for something specific. She didn’t have time to find it.
Buffy continued to scan for fresh graves, she figured she might as well get in a good patrol while she was out here. She could feel someone trailing her, felt the eyes on the back of her head like she could feel a vampire presence from yards away. It was unmistakable yet she continued to ignore him, he was far enough that if he tried something she’d be prepared. What was it with people walking around after dark? Didn’t he realize he was in Sunnydale and that nighttime activities usually meant a timely death? Maybe he was a tourist. That thought made her rethink the intended slaying, no need to let in another person on what was supposed to be her ’secret identity’. She snickered, some secret, she was surprised she hadn’t ended up on the evening news yet.
He seemed human, she couldn’t sense a demonic presence, yet she could feel an underlying current of rage. Even from this far away it radiated off of him in waves. She wished he’d stop, he was practically a flashing beacon for evil things and she wasn’t in the mood to do more than dust a few vamps. This was recon after all. She was here for info, not to start a battle. She just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid so she’d have to rescue him. She wondered idly what exactly he was angry at, but she didn’t have time to finish the thought.
A big, ugly, green demon darted out in front of her, but he wasn’t running at her, he was running away from her just as quickly as he’d come. Only then did she realize that something else was chasing him, a bunch of something’s. She slipped behind a mausoleum, flattening against the wall, tensing for the fight.
She took one down easily as he rounded the corner, a right arm to the throat and he was out like a light. If only they were all so simple.
Logan ran toward the fight that broke out right in front of his eyes. One second she was strolling through the tomb-fields, and the next a mutant ran across her path, trailing a bunch of army guys behind him. He had expected her to scream, to run away, but she did the exact opposite, she hide until the last possible second and then swiftly took out the first man. He was impressed. What was the saying? Never judge a book by it’s cover.
Logan jumped into the fight, never let it be said that he wouldn’t help a damsel in distress. Choosing to go for maximum damage he unleashed his claws, slicing open the nearest commando. The man fell easily, knocking over another one who barely had time to register what had happened before Logan lashed out, swiping a single claw across his throat.
He was making quick work of them and it felt good. He’d been itching for a good fight for days and this was the next best thing. The only downside being that they never stood a chance. No one ever did.
He was just about to slice and dice the last commando when her voice cut through the fog in his head, she was yelling at him. He stopped short, leaving the three blades mere centimeters aware from the last man’s throat.
“Who the hell are you, I was doing just fine on my own, buster. I don’t need rescuing, and can you STOP THAT, with the slicing and the dead people!?”
Buffy looked at the newcomer, bent on saving her from the big bad commandos. In truth she did need a little help, but she wasn’t about to fall all over herself thanking him. She looked down at the bodies that surrounded both of them. The only difference being that hers were unconscious, and his were dead beyond repair. She sighed. This was going to be a long night.
He stopped, finally, she was beginning to think that he was ignoring her, or deaf, or just a tad on the crazy side. Any of the above could be a strong possibility. And what was wrong with his hair? She tilted her head to the side as she considered it for a moment. Very strange.
She was looking at him funny, she was in the middle of reading him the riot act and then she just stopped and…stared at his head?
“Hey, Blondie, I’m doin’ ya a favor here. Don’t hurt yourself saying thanks.”
That snapped her back to reality. “I didn’t need a favor, and turning a bunch of guys into mince meat isn’t exactly the best way to make a girl all light headed. And can you put the cutlery away, he’s not going anywhere. Are you?”
She directed her question toward the man who nodded in agreement, slowly though so as not to impale himself on the very close, very sharp blades currently poised at his neck.
Logan growled, he did not like this girl. He retracted his claws, glaring at the man, almost as if he were daring him to move so he could finish him off. He herd the girl let out a short whistle.
“Now that’s nifty.”
Buffy decided to leave introductions till later and walked up to the commando, who was standing completely still. She was inches away from him, fixing him with the patented ‘I’m not taking any shit’ Slayer stare.
“Now, you were just about to tell our nice viewers where exactly the new initiative is stationed, weren’t you? Come on now, they can‘t possibly pay you enough to die for them.”
Logan could see the man visibly start to shy away. What was it about this girl? The guy didn’t even seem that afraid of him and he’d just had nine inch blades ready to slice him open. She was really starting to piss him off. The man opened his mouth to talk, presumably to spill whatever information he had.
He never had the chance.
Logan was knocked backward, he could feel the familiar sense of electricity course through his body. Why it was familiar he could never remember, but it was. That much he knew.
Must be back up. They were way off their game if they thought a single tazer would take him down. He plucked it off, only to be shot with several tranquilizer darts and three more tazers. Now that might do it. He felt his vision get blurry, but he continued to pull out the darts until the last possibly second. This couldn’t be happening, they couldn’t take him again. His last coherent thought before he lost consciousness was that she would be captured too, and he wouldn't be able to get them out.