Disclaimer: You've all heard it before. I have no rights to these characters.

Chapter Seven: Logan and Howlett

Warning: This chapter has more child abuse and some heavy cursing.


"No Pa! Don't! I'm-" Victor's pleas were cut off by another vicious blow of Tom's stick against his jaw.

"I SAID HOLD STILL!" Tom tackled the large teenager to the floor, ramming a knee into his son's stomach and dropping the stick, so he could grab both Victor's hands and wrap a chain tightly around them. "Yer a god damned freak, an animal! I'll not have yeh around te mess things up fer me anymore!"

When Victor tried to resist the chain, Tom punched him twice in the face, before snapping a lock in place and pulling Victor towards the cellar door. "I'm leave'n tonight and you aint come'n with me, yeh hear! I'll not have yeah 'round Lizzy and my boy!"

Victor gasped, trying to catch his breath through the blood of a broken nose and push through the darkness that was threatening to overcome him. "What are yeh talk'n 'bout? Pa, please!"

Tom pulled open the heavy trap door, leading to the dugout hole in the ground used as a cellar and shoved Victor down the few steps, before slamming the door closed and bolting it in place. A moment later there was a thud as Victor tried to escape. "Pa let me out! We're family yeh can't-"

"We aint family, freak! I got a son and it aint you. I'm taking him with me tonight!" Tom kicked the cellar door and picked up a jug of gin, "Now shut up, or I'll come down thar and cut yer throat like the animal yer are!"

Victor shut his mouth. Right now he wasn't sure that his father wouldn't do exactly as he said. He wasn't sure if Tom was drunk, sincere, or insane. Maybe it was some devilish mix of all three. Desperately, he pressed his shoulder against the door, but the bolt and wood stood solidly against him. Leaving him trapped in the little cellar, which was hardly larger than a grave.

In the cabin, Tom guzzled his gin, glaring at the cellar door for a moment, until satisfied that Victor was suitably obedient. Then he turned and slumped down into his chair, pulling his rifle close and beginning to take it apart and clean it. There were a few more thumps and scratches at the cellar door, but soon even those fell silent.

He was nearly done with the rifle, when there was some heavy knocking. Not from the cellar, but from the front door. Surprised, Tom glared over at the door for a moment, before getting up to answer it, wondering if Elizabeth had come back.

"Mr. Logan," It was John Howlett, standing there with a pistol belt on his waist and a dark frown on his face, "I'm here to tell you that you are to pack your things and leave." He pushed the door open wider and stepped into the cabin. "I want you gone by tonight. I never want to see you on my property again."

Tom scowled, "Oh, I don't think you need worry 'bout that. I had every 'tention of leaving."

With surprising force John grabbed Tom by his coat and slammed him against the cabin wall. "Elizabeth told me what happened, Logan. I know the truth and I know what you're planning." He shook the mountain man and leaned forward, ignoring the foul smell of liquor in his face. "If you take one step into my house, if you touch my son, I swear I'll have you arrested and beaten until there's no skin left on your hairy back! And then I'll see you hang, Tom Logan."

Tom stared back at him and then smirked. "Yer son? I though yeh said Lizzy told yeh what happened? Did the dear wife forget to mention that she-"

"She told me everything," John said in a low voice, "I don't give a damn about who conceived him. James is my son and I would rather die than see you take him from me!"

Tom glared, hate burning in his gaze. "Would yeh now?... After all yeh took from me?" Tom pushed off the wall, shoving John viciously away from him and stepping aggressively forward, pointing an accusing finger. "Yeh took every I loved, John Howlett! Yeh stole a future with Elizabeth that should'a been mine! Yeh no good, rich son'ov a bitch!"

Grabbing the closest thing at hand, Tom threw a broken beaver trap at John's head. John dodged and it clanged against the cellar door, startling Victor, who was holding his breath and listening below.

"Yeh took everything ah ever wanted and ah'l be blowed, if yeh take my son - my own God-given son - away as well!" Tom lunched at John, but the Englishman moved quickly to the side, leaving Tom to crash into the table. Grabbing up the gin jug, John Howlett smashed it over Tom's head and watched the drunk crumple to the floor with a moan.

"God knows better than to give you a thing Logan." John said, leaning down and whispering vehemently over him, "You're scum, Logan, a lazy useless drunk, wasting space up here until it's finally your turn to die and burn in Hell. You are never going to have James or Elizabeth. They're mine."

Tom moaned and John stood up, tossing the remains of the jug into the corner and kicking some dirty clothes out of his way. "The next time I see you Logan, I'll have you shot." So saying, the master of the manner marched out of the cabin and slammed the door behind him.

"Fuck'n bastard," Tom cursed, staggering to his feet and rubbing his head, "We'll just see who shoots first, John-Fucking-Howlett." Picking up his rifle, Tom put together the last pieces and loaded it. "James is my son and I'll see yeh both dead, 'fore I let him spend another night in that house!"

In the cellar, Victor bit his lip, his thoughts spinning. James was his father's son… The kid was his little brother, or at least he was his half brother! In any case, James was family and he was in danger. That much was obvious from the tone in Tom's voice.

Frantically, Victor struggled against the chain bound about his wrists, trying to slip it over his hands. Almost fit…

Victor swallowed back a cry of pain, as some bones in his hands cracked, but threw the chain away. There was no way he was getting through the cellar door, without his father knowing, so he turned to the outer wall and put his claws to work against the packed earth and old wood. Victor hoped he could only dig fast enough to get to James before his father did. He wasn't going to let Tom take his brother. He wasn't going to let James out of his sight, ever!

Outside the sun was gradually sinking lower into the bosom of the mountains, insects buzzed and somewhere in the distance wolves began to howl an evening prelude. Only the wind was silent and summer seemed to grow heavy under the cover of the still trees.


AN: And I think everything is about ready to dive into where the movie starts. Hopefully I'll be finishing this story pretty soon.

Also, just to let y'all know, I went back and polished up the previous chapters, fixing as many of my numerous grammatical mistakes as I could. The only chapter I really changed in content was chapter four. I revised the introduction of Elizabeth working in her garden. If anyone cares to make any suggestions of other mistakes or changes I should make, just let me know. I'd appreciate the help. Thanks a lot for reading and please review.