Tooth & Claw 1They're Marvel's. No money. Don't sue.
This is sorta like a "What if?" Except it's more of a "Maybe." We saw a couple 
of tantalizing hints in the books that allow for this possibility, and I thought 
it might be fun to play with the idea a bit. Timeline for this story is very 
vague -- intentionally so -- but you can assume it happens somewhere around the 
turn of the century. (That'd be eighteen hundreds to nineteen hundreds.) I know, 
I know...like Kaylee really needs another series to work on. <sigh> 
 
Tooth & Claw 1
By Kaylee
The crisp wind falling out of the north whispered of the heavy weight of snow to 
come. The weak autumn sunlight barely warmed the air. He sprawled in the open 
spill of light, feeling it caress his skin with the featherlight touch of a 
ghostly lover. Rays lightened the honey-gold of his hair to an even lighter 
shade. He closed his yellow-tinged green eyes and inhaled deeply of the heady 
perfume given off by the dying leaves.
Then frowned and sniffed again, suspiciously this time.
Eyes opened, narrowed and irritated. He sat up and propped hands behind him, 
scanning the gentle slope with his eyes all the way to the north treeline. 
Another breath of snow-laden air filled his nostrils, bearing the scent more 
strongly. After a moment three figures appeared from the shielding trees. 
No...three horses. Two carried tall forms that rode upright with a stiff posture 
he recognized instantly. The third...
A kid?
He scowled as he stood. No way he'd let these assholes ride up on him stretched 
out like the world's biggest kitten. The tempting thought of getting the shotgun 
occurred to him. Might be nice to make those too-nosy "neighbors" squirm a bit. 
He'd made it quite clear that he didn't like to be bothered.
On the other hand, they occasionally made cooperation worth his while. And he 
didn't really need the gun.
It seemed to take them forever to make their way up the slope towards his cabin. 
He snorted in amusement when he saw how the horses were acting upon catching his 
scent. The riders would never understand it...never understand what those dumb 
animals knew instinctively, knew down to their twisty little guts. Here was a 
predator. 
They might as soon ask their mounts to walk up on a cougar without complaint.
He stood like a rock as they neared, assessing everything they gave off; every 
clue as to what the hell they were doing here. The man in the lead went by 
Thomas Paine. Thin and tall and wiry-looking. Sat his horse all prim and proper, 
pinching up his butt in the inexperienced rider's way of protecting the family 
jewels. Paine preferred working out of the city. Coming out here to see him was 
about his least favorite activity.
The second he didn't know so well -- a beefy fellow who'd be at home swinging an 
ax all day long or spending his nights in a boxing ring. Deke 
something-or-other, if he remembered right. A mean sonuvabitch who'd been 
screwed up the wrong end by the ugly stick. Didn't ride too bad...but he stuck 
to lazy old fat mounts that didn't give much in the way of challenge.
Deke wanted a piece of him so bad he could taste it in his sweat.
And the last -- the kid. Short little thing...eight or ten or twelve years old. 
How the hell should he know? Kids weren't his game. But this brat was little and 
scrawny and looked about as scared as a not-so-saintly-saint being marched in to 
face the lions. Course, he was trying to hide just how freaked he was behind 
that pissy scowl. His short little legs didn't reach the stirrups on the dumpy 
Paint they'd stuck him on, but that didn't seem to bother him much. His seat 
barely shifted as the Paint walked, body matching the horse's rhythm with an 
ease that spoke of long practice.
Then the man noticed that the kid's hands were tied behind his back and the 
Paint's reins were run to Deke's mount.
They finally reached him. Took their fucking time about it, but they eventually 
pulled up right in front of him. Paine gave him a nod -- like an equal greeting 
a slightly-less-than-equal. Fuck that. Deke just glared. That was about all the 
lug was good for; looking menacing. The kid was doing his best to intimidate all 
of them with his own dark-eyed glower. Funny to see a pipsqueak like that trying 
to scare him. He might've laughed if it weren't for the audience.
Instead he just raised a thick eyebrow and regarded Paine silently, ignoring 
Deke and the boy with ease.
Paine tried not to squirm. "How've you been, Creed?"
"What the fuck you want, Paine?"
Paine tried harder not to squirm. "Got something for you." He nodded to the boy. 
Up close like this, the ropes binding his legs to the saddle were obvious. 
"Bosses want you to keep him."
Creed didn't shift his gaze from the other man's. "Why the hell would I want a 
kid?"
Paine looked to Deke. "Show him."
The muscle dismounted and moved to the kid's Paint. Creed watched wordlessly as 
he pulled a knife and sawed through the ropes. Soon as the boy's leg was free 
his foot lashed out, catching Deke full in the face. Creed almost grinned as the 
big man reeled back, swearing.
"Control him," Paine snapped.
Glaring, Deke grabbed a hold of the flailing leg and clamped down on it. The kid 
stopped struggling instantly, and the idiot took that as intimidated 
cooperation. Keeping his amusement silent, Creed casually moved closer to 
Paine's horse as all this went on, nearly laughing aloud as the animal shied 
away from him violently and almost unseated its rider. 
Deke finished freeing the boy's legs and dragged him down off the Paint. The boy 
stayed pliant...until his feet touched down. The moment his heels hit earth he 
was off like a fox with a chicken, body hunched over for balance against his 
bound hands and little legs pumping as he sprinted for the trees. Deke swore 
again and started after him, pushing that ponderously muscled frame into a 
graceless run.
"Don't let him get away!" Paine shrilled. 
It was obvious, though, that the kid would outdistance the older man. Paine 
didn't seem to consider turning his horse and going after the boy himself. 
Bastard would probably fall off if that gelding moved faster than a lope. 
Frantic eyes in the pinched face turned to Creed. "Stop him!"
"Why?" the man asked mildly.
"We need him!"
"What's that t' me?"
"I'll pay you!"
The little runner was about a third of the way to the distant trees. Creed 
considered idly. "How much?"
"A hundred dollars!"
Well. A hundred bucks was quite a windfall these days. "Two hundred."
Paine knew better than to try to bargain him down. "Done! Get him!"
Creed straightened. Stretched. Eyed the puffing Deke and gazelle-swift kid. 
Halfway there, now. Boy could move. "Two-fifty."
"Whatever! Just stop him!"
"Sucker." Grinning broadly, Creed launched forward -- careful to make Paine's 
nervy mount think he was coming right at it -- and let long, muscled legs tear 
the ground past him at startling speed. He moved with his body low; a hunting 
cat's motion. Air was drawn in and pushed out of his deep chest with steady, 
rhythmic huffs that sped oxygen throughout his massive frame and propelled him 
forward with a predator's economy of effort. He caught Deke in no time. Brushed 
past him without even a glance, not going so far as to deem him worthy of a 
sardonic grin. The kid was ahead...fifty, forty, thirty feet short of the 
treeline, and still running strong.
But he wasn't fast enough. Distance closed with a rapidity reminiscent of the 
stoop of a diving hawk slamming into the too-slow sparrow. Creed took one stride 
to every four of the kid's, and he sure as hell was in better condition than the 
scrawny little runt. The dark head turned -- boy was trying to judge just how 
far behind he was leaving his captors. When he caught sight of the huge blond 
man bearing down on him, his eyes went wide with a fear he wasn't quite old 
enough or savvy enough to hide. The panic stained his scent...crept into Creed's 
brain the way the terror of the prey he hunted always did. Lips drew back from 
teeth. Eyes narrowed over the fierce snarl/smile. The boy tried to pour on an 
extra burst of speed...
Not enough. Creed's hand lashed out; a striking snake with claws for fangs. 
Fingers closed around the kid's neck and jerked backwards. He reminded himself 
at the last second to keep the claws in...something told him he wouldn't get 
paid if he opened the runt's throat to the sky. The kid hollered something in a 
language Creed didn't know. Injun? He tried to turn to fight...but Creed, 
snarling, flung him aside and to the ground with enough force to knock the air 
from his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Paine riding up at a fast 
jog and Deke finally reaching them. He ignored both as he moved to stand over 
the boy, catching hold of the dark eyes with his.
"Keep still, runt. If ya know what's good for ya."
The boy was frozen in place, gasping for breath and trying to spit out more of 
his strange language as he glared with ineffective ferocity into the man's 
yellow-green eyes. Creed was barely sweating. His breathing quieted rapidly, and 
was almost level by the time a wheezing Deke reached them.
Deke stumbled to the boy. "Stupid little shit!" A booted foot drew back...lashed 
out to connect solidly with the heaving little ribcage. The boy choked down a 
cry...tried again to turn it into whatever threats he was heaping on them. 
Deke's foot drew back again at this open show of defiance.
Creed almost casually slammed a fist into the man's sweat-streaked face, hearing 
with satisfaction the wet "crack" as his nose broke and the strained cry that 
was several decibels higher than Deke's usual gruff voice. The man staggered 
back...tripped...thumped down to his ass in a graceless heap.
"Boy's had about enough o' that," Creed growled softly, eyes nearly glowing with 
the sudden thought that Deke might finally decide to go for him...might manage 
to forget in his pain and anger that he didn't stand a chance. Claws flexed 
ever-so-slightly...right hand only. It was barely noticeable, but he saw the 
kid's eyes fly to the slight motion with animal alertness.
If Deke was ready to try anything, Creed didn't get to find out. Paine reached 
them, pulling his gelding up with a hard yank against the creature's mouth. 
"Thank god!"
Creed smirked. "God didn't have nothin' t' do with it."
Apparently the fear of losing his prize had loosened Paine up enough to make him 
talk. "Mr. Creed...the bosses want you to take this boy."
"I don’t got nothin' to do with kids."
"He's to be a part of the Project."
Another scowl. "Told ya I don't want no part o' that, either."
"We need him, Mr. Creed."
"What's that gotta do with me?"
Silently, Paine pointed. Creed followed his finger to the scratches he'd 
inadvertently put on the boy's neck when he'd snatched him. Eyes narrowed as he 
saw what the man was referring to.
The scratches were almost gone.
"He's like you, Mr. Creed," Paine continued, a bit more in control of himself 
now. "Just like you."
"This scrawny little whelp?" But it was hard to tear his eyes away from the 
closing wounds...hard to deny the truth of what he was seeing. He'd never met 
another like him. Never thought there were any others. He wondered briefly if 
there was a chance this boy was some byblow of his...some result of a late night 
spilling his seed in a woman he wouldn't have bothered to look at the next day. 
"Where'd he come from?"
"Brody and his crew cleaned out a nest of Indians a few days' ride south of 
here. He was with them."
"Injuns stole a white boy, huh? Kept him in pretty piss-poor shape..."
Paine cleared his throat. "Actually...we've had him for a couple of weeks. If he 
eats anything, we haven't seen it. He won't take what we bring to him."
"Huh." The boy's breathing was slowing, but his lips were still drawn back in a 
silent snarl of warning. He kept darting his eyes from Creed to Deke to Creed 
again, not even glancing at Paine. Evidently he didn't consider the pansy-ass a 
worthy threat. "Why d'ya want me to take 'im?"
"Because of what we just saw. We don't have the resources to handle him, Mr. 
Creed. And we can't afford to lose him."
Creed could guess why. Getting a boy with his abilities at a young age...young 
enough to be impressionable...well, it was a pure vein of gold for the men these 
guys worked for. Yellow-green eyes slid sideways to Paine's face, sizing up the 
greedy, possessive gleam in the watery eyes as the man looked at the boy. Just 
past him Deke had gained his feet and now held a hand clamped over a freely 
bleeding nose. His glare was for Creed and Creed alone.
"How much ya gonna pay me t' hold on t' this li'l pipsqueak? An' how long'm I 
doin' it for?"
Paine named a figure. Creed almost whistled in appreciation. They really did 
want this brat. Then Paine added more hesitantly, "And as for how long...well, 
we're not really sure, yet. We're waiting to see if we get some funding from--"
"Like I give a shit," Creed cut in impatiently. "We talkin' weeks? Months?"
"At least."
The kid started to shift very, very slightly. Preparing to gain his feet and try 
running again, probably. Creed fixed him with a steady, still gaze...the sort of 
look that simply said, 'Think about it.' It was enough to freeze him again, dark 
eyes widening in fear he was still trying to hide.
It paid well. And hell, if the kid ended up running off it was no skin off his 
nose. 
Though he didn't intend to let him run. Not right away. Creed didn't take on a 
challenge that he didn't intend to at least play at for a while. 
"Fine."
"You'll do it?" Barely concealed excitement in the irritating voice. "For the 
fee named?"
Idiot. "Half-again as much." Heh...keeping this kid might just make him a very 
rich man.
And again, Paine didn't even try to argue. "Done. Someone'll be contacting you 
sooner or later about him. For now just keep him alive and here, and..." He 
trailed off, obviously leaving something out. Creed fixed him with another 
impatient scowl.
"And what?"
Paine took in a little breath. It sounded excited...nervous...disgusting. "Teach 
him," he murmured. "Make him...like you."
Like me but controllable, huh? "I'll handle 'im," he answered noncommittally. 
"Now gimme my money and get the hell off my land, 'fore I remember I don't like 
visitors."
Paine -- duty finished -- was eager to be gone. He dug hastily into a saddle-bag 
and pulled out a wad of bills. Creed sized up the amount and was pleased to note 
that nearly all of it was about to line his pocket. With an absent-minded 
gesture Paine waved Deke off to get his horse. The muscle turned stiffly, 
sending another ill-tempered gaze towards Creed, and stalked off with stiff 
shoulders and spine.
Creed noted absently that the boy relaxed marginally once Deke was moving away.
Paine handed over the money, gritting his teeth as the gelding tried to shy at 
Creed's proximity. The kid watched silently. Probably didn't understand a whit 
of what was going on.
"He have a name?" Creed asked as Paine turned the relieved gelding to meet Deke 
and depart. 
"He has some Indian name or other." The sharp shoulders shrugged. "Brody thought 
he needed a civilized name, and he came up with something that sounds kind of 
like what he was calling himself."
"An' what's that?"
The gelding was already stretching its neck out and pushing into a jog. Paine 
called back over his shoulder-- "Logan. He's called Logan."
And then the gelding broke into a rough looking lope, and Paine was too busy 
trying to keep his seat -- and protect the jewels -- to say any more.
Creed kept half his attention on Paine and Deke as they met up -- Deke leading 
the Paint -- and started rapidly on their way. The rest, though, was focused on 
the small figure sprawled stiffly beneath him. The boy -- Logan -- did look to 
be in pretty sorry shape. His dirty face was thin enough to make cheekbones 
stand out sharply, and there were hollows around his eyes that spoke of more 
than hunger. Made sense for him to look that way if he'd gotten attached to the 
redskins who'd been slaughtered, Creed supposed. Not many kids were made for 
losing the only family and friends they knew at this runt's age. 
"Ya got any English, boy?"
No answer. The gaze was surprisingly steady and not surprisingly heated.
"Y'know," Creed muttered. "I'll just bet ya do. I'll bet ya understand 
everything I'm sayin'."
Silence.
The wad of bills was heavy in his trouser pocket. He cocked his head and sized 
up the thin little form once more.
Then took a step back and crossed his arms without another word. Logan watched 
him warily, then slowly pushed himself up into first a seated position, then a 
tense crouch. The scratches on his neck were totally gone, only faint lines of 
dried blood showing where they'd been.
Man regarded boy. Boy regarded man.
The first few wintery flakes coasted in on the north wind to drift over the both 
of them, melting as they came into contact with warm skin and slowly spreading a 
paper-thin layer of white over the dying grass.
~end part 1~