I DON'T Own them – not at all not a bit – not even an itsy bitsy bit…well except any OC's that happen to raise their heads – but I don't own them not a bit.

A/N This started as an unrelated oneshot, but I just couldn't stop wondering exactly who the wife was, exactly why Sabretooth was put away, and exactly why he decided NOW to bring it out. I have my answers, and as the third in the Dictation Trilogy – now so do you.

Victor had tamed the beast, locked it away for almost thirty years, but without the ones that grounded him – kept him human, Sabretooth was clamoring for freedom again.

Chapter 1 – Father of the Bride

"Dad, there's someone I want you to meet." He cringed every time he heard those words. He'd heard them quite a bit the last few years, which was reassuring. If she was changing boyfriends that quickly, then he wasn't going to have to keep from killing the one who was going to take her away from him.

"I'll be home this evening." He said into the phone, trying to keep the strain from his voice. She was his salvation. Before she came along he'd not been a very nice person. The people who knew him now wouldn't recognize the man he used to be. He glanced at his desk and grimaced. There were times, especially when he was dealing with an audit, that he missed the old days, but all he had to do was look at her picture – their pictures – and his reason for not ripping the peon's head off was clear.

This last year had been rough. Losing Bronwyn had shocked him. She'd been with him for so long; it was still strange to wake up alone in bed. It hadn't even been a heroic death; she'd just not woken up one morning. He still didn't know how she'd hidden her illness from him; he could usually smell that type of thing. It had to have been her using her mutation against him.

He'd hidden a few things from her, but nothing like that. His old leathers were packed in the bottom of his closet; he didn't even know if they were wearable anymore, he hadn't had them out in so long. He'd still worked for a few years after he met her, nearly lost her to his best friend once, and been shocked when she'd said yes. He'd been in the process of retiring when they met, and he hadn't looked back, not once since the day she'd invited him home. His mutation ensured he'd never go soft and flabby working in an office, and his claws were itching these days to dig into something other than paperwork.

He glanced over at the picture of the three of them sitting on his desk. Bronwyn was smiling, her fiery curls blowing in the wind in the back yard of the house as she held the baby in her arms. He was sitting behind her, his arms around both of them, and he was smiling. He shook his head and turned back to the problem at hand. His little girl wanted him to meet someone. The sound of metal digging into wood made him relax his hands. Bronwyn had never asked how he got the metal claws, she'd never asked a whole lot of questions she could have asked, and he'd always been grateful for her trust and support.

He tried not to think about it while he finished his day. His car was in the parking garage and he turned on the radio to distract him on the drive home. He stopped and picked up dinner for one – his angel lived on campus now, and probably wouldn't be by for dinner. He pulled into the driveway and for the fifth time this week reminded himself he needed to think about getting rid of Bron's car. Instead he pulled up next to it, like always and ran a hand over the cold hood before going into the house through the kitchen door.

The plates she'd bought were still in the cabinet and he pulled one down and dumped his takeout onto it. He grabbed one of the good forks – from her grandmother's silver set, and sat down at the table they'd picked out two years ago. Everything in the house reminded him of her, and there had been times – full of depression – when he'd considered just torching the place and starting over again, but always his Angel reminded him that there were good things to remember here too. He raised his glass to the painting over the mantle, like he did every night.

Angela was twenty three; he'd been clean and straight for almost thirty years. No killing, no mayhem, no illegal activities, nothing that would come back to hurt either of them, and now, he was living alone, his wife gone, his daughter bringing someone she wanted him to meet. Why did he have a feeling this one was serious…was it because she hadn't said those words in months, was it because of the tone in her voice, or was it because HE wanted it to be, so he could be free of what was tying him here.

He heard her key in the door, and the quiet voices as she tried to tell him to be nice. Like the punk being nice was going to make it any easier. He thought about scaring the shit out of the guy – but she would give him that look, the one that she'd given him when he told her she couldn't have a puppy when she was six, and she'd ended up with not just ONE damned dog but eight over the years.

"Dad, this is Todd. Todd this is my Dad, Victor." She was smiling, radiant even and he didn't miss the flash from her left hand either. Todd – that name was familiar, she'd known him a while.

"Todd." He said, and grabbed his little girl's hand. Half a carat solitaire with smaller accent stones, not bad – for a guy in college – or was he. He seemed a little older than the last few.

"This mean what I think it does?" He tried to keep the snarl out of his voice.

"Yes, Daddy."

"You got a last name, Todd."

"Baxter." The boy's voice was clear, and he didn't seem to be intimidated. A good start, but then again, Victor hadn't even started TRYING to be intimidating yet. Todd Baxter, he was one of a trio that ran around together. He thought Todd was dating her friend…what was her name?

"Moving up the alphabet, huh?" He said teasingly to his daughter.

"Dad."

He held out his hand to Todd. "Nice to meet you." He didn't even squeeze when the boy took his hand.

"Dad I have some things I need to get from my room, be nice while I'm gone."

He just laughed – this was him being 'nice.' A hell of a lot nicer than this guy deserved, taking his little girl away.

"So what do you do, Todd?"

"I work for an advertising agency."

"Where'd you two meet?"

"In class – I'm taking an afternoon class, my agency's paying for it, I only need a few more hours to finish my MBA."

"Nice – any plans after graduate school?"

"Actually, I would like to work on my doctorate in management, but with starting a…"

"A what?"

"Family. Angela and I, I don't want to take time away from her to finish my doctorate right now." Damn – the boy wasn't even lying, and Victor was actually warming up to the kid. He was honest, and didn't flinch, he had the guts to say what he thought, but that might just be because he didn't know who he was dealing with.

"Then you don't mind about her…family?"

"Mind, I'm a class two myself, nothing major, just water breathing, which makes me killer in a pool, but why would I mind her being a mutant."

"I wasn't talking about that – but that certainly answers my NEXT question." Todd looked a little sheepish.

"Most people freak because of who I am – then worry about her mutation. I like that you worried about the mutation first."

"Well, Mr. Creed, I mean, no offense, but you are an accountant right? What's to freak about that." Accountant? He owned Creed Industries for crying out loud…but yeah that was basically all he did, keep up with the accounts anymore. The board handled most of everything else, and had since they went public three years ago. That had been Bronwyn's decision.

"What's to…?" Angela came back into the room, a small bag packed in her hand.

"Dad, you're not trying to scare Todd are you?"

"No – why would an accountant be scary?" He muttered. Maybe it was time to get back to work. "So why don't you two come to dinner next week, I'll actually dig out the grill and cook something."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. It was nice meeting you Todd." He said, actually smiling at the boy.

"Oh – Dad, I hope you don't mind the short notice, but we want to get married in two weeks."

"Two WEEKS!? Why the rush?"

"Daddy!" She gave him that look.

"I guess you want me to pay for it, too?"

"No – well a little help maybe – but…"

"How much do you think you'll need?"

He could tell Todd was uncomfortable with the discussion, but staying out of it, wise boy.

"I don't know – I'll call you later this week and let you know once I start looking at things. He just proposed today."

"Call me." He walked them to the door and her arms slipped around his neck and she kissed him on the cheek – he could afford a wedding, if it made her smile like that.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Creed." Todd said as they walked to the rather expensive sedan parked in his driveway. He was going to have to check this Todd Baxter out.

XXXXXXXX

The boy checked out – he worked for an ad agency that his father owned. He had an excellent academic record, his work performance was surprisingly good, considering the family connections with his job, and his financial records were in the black, no outstanding debts, not even loans for school.

His Angel was happy, happier than he'd seen her since before her mother died, and even with the rush, he allowed himself to get wrapped up in the wedding plans. He still had urges to rip Todd a new ass hole every time he TOUCHED his little girl – but…he didn't have the room to talk, the boy actually loved her, doted on her as much as HE did, which said a lot, considering she was his only living child.

Her wedding day dawned clear and bright, and he ALMOST called the mansion, to see if he could call in a favor from Ororo to make it rain on the boy…but he didn't. She deserved a beautiful wedding day. The dress she'd chosen had set him back quite a bit – not that he couldn't afford it, but he cringed at anything costing that MUCH money for just one use.

It wasn't like he hadn't paid that for a weapon or two, back in the day, throwaway pieces for specific jobs, that were only used once, but for a fucking DRESS! Okay – so he had three suits that cost more, but he wore them at least once a week. He'd grumbled and groused and finally just paid for the dress and shut up. She'd given him the 'puppy' look.

It didn't hurt that she looked just like her mother in the dress either. He'd gotten something in his eye at the fitting; he hadn't been able to look at her after that, because his eyes were all blurry.

Now he was sitting in this little room, wondering if he had time to go and kill the groom before he actually TOUCHED his little girl, when she stepped from the dressing room and he had to look away again. Damn what the fuck was in his eye.

"Daddy, thank you." She whispered.

"You're welcome, Baby. I just wish your mother could be here."

"Me too – but I think she's watching."

"I know she is." This time he couldn't pretend. She reached up and wiped the damned frail tear from his cheek. He caught the scent then, and bit back the growl. She was pregnant.

"I love you, Daddy." She whispered.

"I love you too, Baby." The familiar chords of music started and he had to steel himself to take that short walk, his little girl on his arm, and try to keep from ripping the arms off of the man he was about to give her to, the father of his grandchild.

He was standing there, and Victor felt a little better, Todd had to wipe a tear from his face too – the lucky bastard. Victor just hoped the kid knew just how damned lucky he was, he was not only still breathing, he was being given Victor Creed's most valuable possessions.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" The minister said.

It took him three tries to get the response out, around the tight lump in his throat.

"Her mother and I do."

He lifted her veil, and kissed her on the cheek, before turning and sitting down in the pew. This afternoon was the reception, then they would leave for their honeymoon, and he – he would dig out the leathers he'd been repairing the last two weeks. There was no way in HELL he was going to have someone ask why anyone had to be afraid of an accountant when it was time for his grand daughter to get married.