Part 1

Chapter 1

1993

Cleo Tyler didn't know how it'd come to this. She'd made the best out of her sad life, always thinking of herself as a survivor. As a prostitute, what other choice did she have? There was very little that she regretted. The only john she'd ever regretted had brought her to this – staring at the yowling creature in the backseat, that, for the last five years, Cleo had called a daughter.

Penny was a beautiful little girl, Cleo couldn't deny. She'd inherited Cleo's rust-colored waves and fair, freckled skin. The dark hazel eyes, however, belonged to her father. A man that Cleo still had nightmares about, could still feel the sharp pinch of his claws on her hips. The man had been a monster, a mutant. A trait he'd passed down to Penny.

Cleo, before she'd met Victor Creed, had considered herself progressive. She hadn't given mutants much thought, but she thought they should have their rights, of course, and met a few mutants over the course of her twenty years of living, but she had never thought of them much. After Victor had engaged her services for a night, that all had changed. Though he'd paid her well, she'd required an ER visit after he'd been satisfied. It'd taken months for the claw gouges on her hips to heal.

And then she'd found out she was pregnant. Despite the condom. Despite her birth control. She'd been terrified those nine months, terrified that the child would be like him. The hope that the child would be normal hadn't stayed her hand from having the pregnancy aborted. She'd tried. It didn't take. And when Penny was born, she was entirely normal. Or so Cleo had thought.

For five years, Cleo had raised her daughter as well as she could. She'd stopped prostituting and started stripping – it was safer, though she made less money. It had been worth it. Penny was all she loved in this world. She'd been a clever, mischievous little girl whose constant, joyous laughter rang throughout their home.

A few months after Penny turned five, she started to change. Her fingernails had sharpened and turned black. Her canine incisors had lengthened and sharpened. Cleo wished that was the most alarming change. Penny stopped speaking entirely and began to act like an animal. Instead of asking for a juice like she would have just a few months earlier, Penny would yowl and try to find the food herself. She'd claw and bite Cleo if she cornered her, easily drawing blood. Penny was suddenly much stronger than a five-year-old should be.

And with that, all of Cleo's buried fears came back. Her child was a mutant. Like the man that had brutalized her. But still Cleo tried. Affection was met with clawing. Foods Penny used to love were thrown at the wall. Her daughter would no longer speak. Cleo had grown desperate.

No one could help Penny. She couldn't be sent to school this way. She wasn't thriving with Cleo. And Cleo, well, she couldn't take it anymore. So she'd packed her yowling daughter into the backseat of the car, strapped her into a seat (braving the girl's claws), and left Chicago, heading north.

Cleo drove for hours and hours, until she reached a forest in Southern Wisconsin. Her daughter was a wild animal. She'd survive better in the woods than with her mother. So Cleo had let Penny out of the car to explore. She watched as the little girl scampered about, looking joyous for the first time in months.

That made the guilt a little less sharp when Cleo got into her car and drove off. Leaving Penny there alone. In her rearview mirror, she saw her daughter had stilled, staring in her direction. The tears came. Cleo stepped on the gas.

1994

Charles Xavier frowned as he focused on the signal he felt, with the help of Cerebro. A lone mutant child, in an uninhabited area, with no other life signatures – no mutant or otherwise. He could feel the child's mind, buried beneath stress and the need to survive. She was young. No more than five, maybe six. He lifted the helmet from his head and set it down. He left Cerebro, calling out telepathically for Scott and Jean to meet him in his office.

His eldest students had arrived in Charles' office before he did. Their expressions were concerned and inquisitive. Scott Summers and Jean Grey had become teachers at Xavier's school after they'd graduated, devoted to the cause of protecting and nurturing young, vulnerable mutants. "What is it, Professor?" Jean asked, scarlet brows furrowed.

"While I was using Cerebro, I found something troubling. There is a young mutant child, no more than six, wandering alone in a forest in Southern Wisconsin." Charles shared, his troubled expression quickly shared by the others.

"Alone? For how long?" Scott asked.

"I cannot be sure. But her mind is… clouded. Bogged down by survival. She has reverted to a more animal-like state,"

"Her mutation?" Jean asked, brow wrinkled.

"Physical, so far as I can tell. I could sense no extra mental processes. She was likely abandoned there. There is no time to waste, I would have you two go find her and bring her here," Charles answered.

"Of course, Professor. We'll suit up and take the Blackbird out right away," Scott said, guiding his girlfriend from the room.

"Be careful!" Charles called.

Elsewhere….

Eric Lensherr, or Magneto, as he preferred to be called, sat at his desk inside the Brotherhood headquarters. This was his leisure time – and instead of studying chess strategies for his next match with Charles, he had decided to read the latest mystery bestseller. He felt as if his mind was growing clogged, seldom having a good idea for his cause. So instead of thinking constantly about his cause, he decided to let his mind escape into a novel for a little while each day, hoping it would help him plan.

He was rarely disturbed in these times. Only one person was brave enough. Mystique – the blue-skinned woman who had become Magneto's right hand – entered his office. She seemed pleased with herself. "Yes?" he asked, not looking up from his novel.

"The bug you placed in Xavier's office revealed something interesting. A young mutant child abandoned in Southern Wisconsin, with physical mutations." She remarked.

"And I'm sure Charles has sent out some of his X-men to recover the child. Why is this interesting, my dear?" he asked.

"Because it coincides with the rumors I've heard out of that area. Rumors of a child more animal than human. With claws and teeth," Mystique explained, yellow eyes alight with intrigue.

Magneto laid down his book. "A feral," he mused.

"And we know another feral who would pay a fortune for news of another like him. Who knows, you might even get him to commit to the Brotherhood,"

"Sabretooth." Magneto murmured. "That's right. He became aware of a child resulting from a dalliance with a prostitute, didn't he? The child disappeared last year?"

"Yes," Mystique confirmed. "He's been searching for his spawn since,"

Magneto reached for his phone and dialed a familiar number. The phone rang twice before being sent to voicemail. "Hello, Sabretooth. It's been a while. Mystique and I… have come into some information we thought you'd be interested in. A young feral child has been sighted. I thought an… exchange of services might be appropriate for such valuable information." Magneto spoke slow, and deliberately, before hanging up.

"I give it five minutes before he calls back," Mystique wagered.

"I'd say less," he replied, his gaze not leaving the phone. It was two minutes before the phone began to ring.

Magneto plucked up the phone and brought it to his ear. "What do you want." A low, growling voice demanded.

The old man smiled. "How about a pledge of loyalty to the Brotherhood?" Magneto suggested in a cheerful tone.

"I pledge loyalty to no one. I'll promise you one mission, pro bono." Victor Creed growled.

"One mission; if it extends to when my immediate goal is reached,"

There was a loud growl of frustration on the other end. "Fine. Tell me where the cub was sighted," he ordered.

"Southern Wisconsin," Magneto answered, looking to Mystique as she stepped closer.

"In the Kettle Moraine State Park," she supplemented, narrowing the search down.

"Looks as if she was abandoned there," Magneto remarked, only to hear a furious growl before the dial tone.

8 hours later

Kettle Moraine State Park – Wisconsin

Jean and Scott arrived and found the child was not easily found. She didn't come when they called – not that they had a name to call her by – and anytime they thought they were getting close, she scurried off, faster than Scott or Jean could grab her.

"We won't hurt you, sweetheart, we just want to help you!" Jean called, after nearly four hours of chasing the child.

The girl was thin, covered in dirt, blood and torn clothing. It was amazing she was still alive after a year alone in the wild.

"We're going to have to trap her, Jean," Scott murmured lowly as they started after the girl, yet again.

Jean didn't reply, simply working her legs harder to try and keep up with the little girl. What they found through the next copse of trees shocked them to their core.

Someone had gone ahead and caught the little girl. She now dangled a few feet above the ground by her collar, yowling and swiping at the man who'd caught her, and now held her away from his body to avoid her sharp little claws.

Claws that he shared. The man was somewhat familiar – with short, thick brown hair and muttonchop sideburns, tall and thickly built. He growled at the sight of Jean and Scott, showing his fangs. It was Scott who recognized him.

"What does the Brotherhood want with a little kid, Sabretooth?" Scott spit out, derisively.

Victor Creed laughed. "The Brotherhood don't want this kid. I do. Since she's mine," he retorted, a little growl in his voice.

Jean and Scott gaped at each other for a long moment before turning back to the little girl and her supposed father. Creed was looking at the little girl he held with a certain curiosity, as if searching for similarities in their features. There wasn't much, aside from their eyes. And the mutation, of course.

"She's your daughter?" Jean says, dumbfounded. Creed nodded, eyes not lifting from the stare he held with the girl. "Then why has she been wandering the woods alone for who knows how long?" she questioned, accusingly.

"It ain't any of your business, frail," Victor spat, eyes narrowing. Scott's hand darted up to the dial on his goggles, readying himself. Victor's eyes slid to him. "You ain't gonna hurt me, I'm holding the kid," he pointed out.

Victor sighed. "Look, X-geeks, I didn't even know about the kid till last year. And by then, she'd already disappeared. Her mother just abandoned her here. I started looking as soon as I found out. I just found a lead eight hours ago," he remarked. "I came, found my cub, and I'd like to leave now," he continued, icily.

"You think the Brotherhood is really the place to raise a child?" Scott asked, brows furrowed in concern.

Victor laughed. "I ain't taking her there. I ain't gonna raise no cub there," he said, snorting in derision.

"I think the school would be a better place for her, you could come too-" Jean began, cut off by the guffawing laughter of the other man. With the split-second distraction, the child ripped out of Creed's grip and tore off into the brush. Swearing lowly, Victor turned on his heel and went after her, Jean and Scott in pursuit as well.

Unlike Jean and Scott, Victor seemed to know exactly where he was going. Since he was able to smell the girl, he definitely had the advantage over the other two. He ran through the brush, stopping dead quite suddenly – Jean had to grab Scott by the collar to make sure he didn't crash into the other man.

Victor sniffed at the air for a long moment, before he cut to the right and headed for a blackened, hollow tree about fifteen yards away. There was a hole just big enough for a child to crawl into at the base. "Come out, cub," he growled, crouching at the base of the tree, his trench coat brushing the ground.

There was no response, only a rustling noise coming from within, and then a light scratching as if claws on the wood. Victor cast an eye back towards Jean and Scott before an odd noise began to come from his throat and chest, almost a humming. The noise from within the tree stopped. Victor hummed louder, and louder, until Jean realized it was purring.

Victor Creed was purring, like a cat, trying to draw the animal-like child from her hiding spot. With shock, Jean and Scott saw it was working – a peek of pale skin coming towards the tree's opening. Her wide eyes glancing cautiously up at Creed. He didn't move, only kept purring, waiting patiently as the girl inched closer and closer.

Finally, when the girl was just inches from his chest, Victor wrapped his arms around her, pulling the coat over her, so she was shielded from the cold. He stood slowly, and she did not struggle, so long as he continued to purr. With her so close, the throaty noise was quieter, and with her ear against his chest, she heard it easily. It soothed her.

Scott and Jean looked at the man in astonishment. "It's a feral thing," he said, one arm holding the girl to his chest, and the other clawed hand cradling her head. "As you can see, you can't handle the cub. Only another feral can. And I'm the only one left." This was said with bitterness, like it wasn't always that way. "She's my cub anyway, so you have no claim,"

"Your claim isn't legal," Jean pointed out.

Victor growled. "Look, the cub's at a wild stage. She'd hurt people at your school. She needs someone like herself to show her how to act." he explained, surprisingly making a lot of sense.

"And you think you're the good example?" Scott snorted.

"I can teach her to control herself. Be both animal and human, not just one of the two. That's more than you can say, ain't it?" Victor shot back.

"And you promise she'll be cared for? Warm, fed, and happy?" Jean probed.

"I brought her into this world, that means I'm responsible for her. It's a man's duty to make sure his line carries on." Victor retorted.

"I suppose that's the closest we can get to a promise," Jean acknowledged, glancing to Scott, who grudgingly nodded.

Victor smirked. "You can tell your Professor X-geek that she's mine. And in a while, well, I'll be sure to keep you in mind if I need a babysitter," he teased, before going on his way – child wrapped in his arms, purr in his throat.

Victor Creed brought his daughter home. To Canada. A cabin built in the same spot he had lived as a child. His half-brother's family was long gone, off to greener pastures, if they hadn't simply died out. Victor didn't care much, one way or another.

The cabin didn't see much use, but it seemed appropriate to bring his child there to raise her. The place was dusty and dark when he led her inside, but that hadn't stopped the girl from rushing around, touching and sniffing each and every new object she could find. Victor closed the door and found the light switches, flicking them on.

The girl froze underneath the bright lights, quickly taking shelter underneath the nearest couch. With a sigh, Victor walked over. "This is your home now, cub. There's nothing you need to hide from here," he remarked, crouching down to catch the girl's eyes. She began to inch towards him, before hesitating. Victor let a low purr escape his throat, and the cub immediately scrambled into his outstretched arms.

She pressed her ear to his chest, feeling the vibration of the purr. Closing his arms around her, Victor straightened to shift onto the couch. She let out a murmur of discontent when the purr stopped, her little claws hooking into the fabric of his shirt. "Listen, cub," he began, glancing down to see her eyes glazed over, unseeing.

He repeated his words, knocking a knuckle against her chin. The hazel eyes he'd passed down to her focused on his face. "You are my cub. A Creed. You are the predator, not the prey. You will not hide anymore. You will speak," he informed her. The girl just looked up at him balefully. "Come on, let's get you a bath and then some food in your belly," he said, carrying the girl into a bathroom.

Trying to bathe the child was like fighting a wildcat – she didn't want to take off her rags, and she certainly wanted nothing to do with the water. Victor had done it though, growling and snapping at the cub till she settled – that didn't stop him from being drenched at the end, though. He'd given her a shirt of his to wear since he had nothing else to dress her in. It was amusing, at least, to see the girl prance around in a shirt that brushed her ankles, seeming rather happy with herself now that she was clean.

A quick inspection of the fridge and pantry yielded nothing – as expected – he took his phone out and ordered for them to be stocked. Victor knew the people he'd called would handle it quickly, quicker than if he'd ordered prepared food – and his cub was hungry. He'd heard the growling of her stomach not long ago, and even if it didn't seem to bother her, the animal in him roared in fury at the fact his cub had been so ill cared for.

After ordering food, he called another contact. "I need the cabin to be thoroughly cleaned and restored, top to bottom, tomorrow morning. Send another employee to procure furniture and clothes for a girl child. Just over a meter tall, weighing twenty kilograms. Books as well. Everything a child needs." He ordered. The person on the other end of the call quickly agreed, knowing that they would be well-rewarded for their efforts.

As Victor pocketed the phone, the lights flickered for a moment, and his cub let out a pained yowl. His head shot in her direction, only to see her dart away from an outlet, quickly colliding with his leg, hugging it tightly. He reached down and grabbed the hand she cradled, seeing the blackened tip of her finger – she'd stuck her finger in the outlet. Victor shook his head, watching with interest as it healed before his eyes.

"Now you've learned something, cub. Don't go sticking your finger in those outlets," he said, letting his fingers pass through her damp hair. She looked up at him, giving him a slight whimper as she nodded. "You're like me, cub. Hurts go away fast. Doesn't mean you shouldn't take care," he said, bending low, to draw her into his arms.

She came easily now, recognizing him by scent as her blood, her father. The animal in her saw him as her alpha, too. Victor had expected more difficulty with that, but the girl had proved eager. It was in her nature to seek out care from someone. Pity she was left alone for a year before he'd been able to find her.

"Food will be here soon," he promised, brushing his hand up her back. He carried her to the couch and set her down. Her tiny hands tried to hold onto him, but he brushed them off as he reached for a blanket to spread over her. "Rest for a while, until it's time to eat," he bade her, and she reluctantly settled. He moved about the room trying to set things in order. All the while, he could feel her eyes on him. She hadn't so much as shifted, but her eyes tracked his every move.

Within an hour, the food arrived. As soon as the workers came in, the girl shot into the other room. Victor left her. He concentrated on getting food ready for her to eat – taking two steaks and throwing them in a skillet to cook. Meat alone would suffice for filling her stomach – she needed it more than anything else. Ferals needed the extra iron.

With the smell of cooking meat in the air, the girl ventured from her hiding place. She hugged the door frame, eyes darting from person to person as they carried in groceries and put them away in the cupboards. When she judged it to be an opportune time, she darted out and across the room to Victor's side. Her tiny clawed hands gripped at the counter above her head, stretching onto the tips of her toes to peer up at the steaks Victor was cooking.

"Soon, cub, soon." Victor spoke, shifting a hand to cup the back of her head for a moment. A low whine escaped her throat, looking up to her father with wide, pleading eyes. "You heard me." He grumbled.

By the time the steaks were ready, the staff had left. They had wiped off the dusty table and set out plates and flatware before they left. "Go sit at the table," Victor ordered the girl. She let out another whine, to which Victor responded with a growl. This sent the girl scurrying towards the table and clambering into a seat. "Good cub," he said, taking her plate from the table to put the steak on it.

As he walked back, the girl seemed to be vibrating with excitement. Before he would put the plate down, he fixed the girl with his gaze. "Ask for it." He ordered. Another whine left the girl's mouth, and her skinny arms reached out for the food. "Use your words, cub, or you won't eat." Victor said.

The girl glared at him knowingly. The words, even though they were not many, were in her head. She hadn't had to use them in over a year. The words came up like a burn in her throat. "Food…please," she said, voice croaking with disuse.

Victor set the plate down in front of her. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked, ruffling her hair. The girl just flashed him a baleful glare as she immediately set to eating the steak with her bare hands. She winced at the heat, and Victor sighed. "Use the fork and knife." he told her, gesturing to the utensils next to her plate. The girl fingered them cautiously, before raising a confused expression to her father. He sighed again and picked them up and began to cut the steak into smaller, bite-size pieces for his girl.

Her mother had probably always spoon-fed the girl before she'd abandoned her – thus she had no concept of how to use utensils. Using the fork to spear a chunk, Victor held it to the girl's mouth. She looked at him strangely but leaned forward and used her teeth to pull the steak chunk off the fork and quickly chew and swallow it down. Victor speared another chunk and set it down on her plate. The girl looked at him for but a moment before she picked the fork up tentatively and brought the food to her mouth. "Good girl." he said, patting her on the head before grabbing his own plate to bring his steak to the table.

The girl ate quickly, no doubt hungry from her time in the wild. She cleaned her plate before Victor was halfway done with his and scampered off the chair to continue roaming the house. He watched curiously as she investigated the space, hands tracing the fabrics of the curtains, chairs, or couches. Victor glanced to the clock. It was getting late, he was surprised the girl hadn't already fallen asleep from the stress of the day. Her belly was full. It wouldn't be long now.

After a few minutes, she returned to Victor, carefully climbing into his lap as he ate. "Getting tired, cub?" he asked, pressing one hand against her back as she pressed her head to his chest and curled up there. She made a sleepy noise, her eyes beginning to droop. Victor finished eating before he stood, arms careful to keep the girl from tumbling to the floor. He carried her into his bedroom – the only furnished one, that is, and tucked her into the admittedly dusty linens. One night in that for a child that couldn't get sick wouldn't hurt. He had trouble untangling her sharp little claws from his shirt, even though she slept quite deeply.

Once he had laid her down, Victor went to change into a pair of pajamas. As he took off his shirt, he discovered many tiny holes in the fabric – no doubt from the girl's claws. Once changed, he slipped into the bed beside the girl, who immediately wriggled over to cuddle close to her father. Victor allowed his arms to close around her, holding her tight with the top of her head brushing his chin. His clawed fingers pinched gently at the back of her neck.

It had been a long day for them both, and Victor could admit to himself that he was a little emotionally wrought. He'd finally found his cub, and it sort of felt like it did when he'd had to care for Logan so many years ago. It was only with a child that he felt needed. Especially a feral child. No one else could possibly care for the child like he could.

It was then that Victor came to an alarming discovery.

He didn't know his own daughter's name.

Been holding onto this for a long time. It will eventually be a marvel crossover, but I figured I'd leave it in the xmen category until then.

Review, please tell me what you think!