Keye was lying on her bed watching television when Logan returned. He entered quietly, locking the door behind him. He did that to intimidate me, she thought. Rolling up to a sitting position, she said, "Don't you ever knock?"

Logan snorted. "Ya weren't that worried about my privacy, were ya? When ya went poking around in my memories?"

"Logan, that's not fair. I cant help it. People's names are such a strong part of their identities that they're just . . . I don't know . . . there on the surface. When I touch somebody, like when I shake hands, I just pick up a name. It's just there. I don't go 'poking around' people's brains. Nightmares are easy; names are easy. Looking inside someone's brain is not easy--it's never easy. I don't take it lightly, and I don't do it without permission. Besides, YOU were the one who shoved ME against the wall, remember? So get off me about it." Keye was pissed at him for putting her on the defensive, and annoyed with herself for losing her cool. Why does he get my goat so easily? she wondered as she got to her feet.

"Awright, look, just calm down," Logan replied. Jeez, she even wore perfume at night?

"No, you calm down. I'm sick of this shit. It's been a long day and I'm tired. Your name can stay a secret, okay? Get out. My lips are sealed." She walked forward and tried to push him back toward the door. Still immoveable, she thought. This is getting old. She shoved him harder, with no effect.

Logan's hands came to her waist. "Well ya better damn well unseal 'em. Cut the temper tantrum, Keye. Just tell me my name." He scowled down at her. She just stared at him, mesmerized for a moment, and then blinked. He's got beautiful eyes, though.

"I should explain," she began, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands on her sides, "that I don't always pick up a legal name. Sometimes it might be the just the name you identify with the most. Sometimes I'm only able . . . " Logan tightened his hold.

"I get it. Disclaimer. What's my name, darlin'?" Real pretty lips, when she forgets to be a prissy-ass.

"James Logan Howlett," she said slowly.

Logan was still for a moment. He let Keye go and stepped away. I don't feel a thing. Thought it'd at least sound familiar. Something. Shit, how could I not know my own name? Aloud, he said, "So Logan's my middle name, then."

"Could be. But like I said, these would be the names you most identify with. I sometimes pick up nicknames, like 'Pookie' or 'Bubba' even. But 'Logan' doesn't really sound like a nickname."

"Any chance you're wrong?" Logan asked.

"There's a chance, but I'm usually accurate," Keye replied.

"Why should I believe ya?" Logan said, suddenly wondering about the second-tier bullshit she'd fed Xavier earlier.

Keye felt tired. "You shouldn't. I'm probably some con artist, and this is all a plot to . . ." Logan held up his hand again.

"Sorry, darlin,' I was out of line. Got a lot on my mind. At least I got something to start with." Besides weird dreams and one megalomaniac name of Stryker.

"Hope it helps." At his skeptical look, her eyebrows rose. "Really. Just because you're a jerk doesn't mean I don't sympathize."

Logan gave a snort of laughter. Damned if she ain't a pistol. "Thanks, darlin', I know it took a lot of effort to give up three lousy words. Guess I'll go talk to the professor about where to start looking."

"Charles is probably asleep by now, but, hey, there's always Google," Keye supplied helpfully.

"What the hell is Google?" Logan growled. Sounded stupid to him.

"A search engine, on the internet."

"Shit, I can't even do email," Logan said. He headed toward the door and unlocked it.

"Why are the pretty ones always such jerks?" Keye asked the ceiling.

"So, ya think I'm good looking, huh?" he said softly over his shoulder as he slipped silently into the hall.

"Asshole," she said under her breath.

"I heard that." And he was gone.

Keye laughed and shook her head, locking the door behind him.

Logan lay on his bed, repeating his name in his thoughts. Lotta good it did me, findin' out my name. He was more frustrated than ever. If he was honest, he wasn't sure how much of his restlessness had to do with Keye, rather than the disappointment of not remembering his own name. Felt good holdin' her. Probably make any red-blooded Canuck forget his name, he thought with a half-smile. Sure get a kick outta pushin' her buttons. Not wanting to think too much about why that was, he jumped to his feet. No sense waiting for sleep that wasn't going to come. Might as well take a walk.

Logan headed through the kitchen and snagged a bottle of water. Look at what I'm turnin' into, he thought, drinkin' bottled water like a townie. He heard the dog enter the kitchen from the direction of Katie's room, where the dog had been dozing. Newfie walked over to the back door and waited, like she knew ahead of time where Logan was going. Wouldn't that be freakin' marvelous. A damned dog mind-reader. Newfie growled impatiently and raised a paw to the door. Logan disabled the alarm and opened the door. "C'mon, Pork Chop, go take a dump, and then let's go walk some of that fat off ya." Man and dog went out the door. Logan reset the alarm and turned toward the gardens, expecting to see the dog doing its business. Instead Newfie was standing stock still, head up, looking towards the woods. She gave another soft growl and took off like a shot. Logan followed.

That tub o'lard is faster than she looks, he thought. Better keep an eye on 'er. Katie's kind of attached to the damn thing. He ran easily, the darkness not a problem for him. The dog had obviously picked up on something out there, although Logan hadn't seen, heard or scented anything. Well, it was good exercise, even if it turned out to be nothing more than a rabbit or a squirrel. They entered the woods beyond the mansion grounds. Keye calls her Newfie, but that ain't any Newfoundland dog I've ever seen, he thought. Although it's big and lazy like a newfie. It struck him that he had no idea why he knew about Newfoundland dogs--he didn't remember owning one or knowing anybody who did. Well, he was Canadian after all, so maybe he'd come across something about them and just didn't remember where he'd read it or heard it. This dog's coat was curlier and shaggier than a Newfoundland, and shaped more like a bear than a dog. Newfie shot over a fallen log with Logan right behind. He could hear her breathing, but even after a couple of miles she didn't seem winded at all. Shit, that mutt oughtta be havin' a heart attack about now. A drop of dog-spit hit his shirt. Yeah, part Newfoundland after all. The dog slowed suddenly and lowered her head. She inched toward a copse of trees, her ears forward. The breeze shifted, and Logan finally caught a scent. Sabertooth? Thought ya bit the big one at Liberty Island. Well, bub, you've got a lotta balls comin' here. Must want another ass-kickin' and I'm just the guy to give it to ya. Logan very carefully set down his water bottle and began to stalk his prey. He picked up another scent a little further off. What the . . .? That's not a mutant. More like . . . Keye. Somebody like Keye. One of her damn family that Xavier went on about.

The breeze shifted again. Shit, Logan thought, gonna be upwind of 'em both in a second. Gotta find out if they're in cahoots. Newfie looked toward Logan, waiting for a signal to move in. Or at least that's what it looked like to Logan. A hunting dog? That hunk of meat loaf? Just then he could hear Sabertooth moving off. Damn, must've caught wind of us. Not so fast, bub, I got a bone to pick with you. His claws sprang out in anticipation. As he was moving to give chase, a quiet voice stopped him cold. "Keye's not with you? Let him go, then. Now's not the time." A dark-haired man stood a short distance away. The man gave a short hand signal, and Newfie sat down and lazily scratched an ear.

"The hell it isn't. Who the hell are you and what're you doing here?" He advanced on the man, who stood his ground calmly. "You a friend of Keye's? Maybe a friend of Creed's? That why yer so quick to let him get away? Answers, bub, and I need 'em now," Logan snarled, claws to the ready. He didn't smell fear on the guy, but for all his relaxed stance, the guy was ready to move quickly. Logan recognized the stance; he'd used it often enough.

"Vincent Alo. Keye's a cousin of mine. How well do you know Keye? I thought she just got to the school this morning." He looked over at the dog, as if expecting to gain some insight from her. Newfie was now lying, half-asleep, on the ground. "Newfie doesn't hunt for just anybody." Newfie's tail plopped lazily as she heard her name.

"What the fuck is going on? What do you want with Creed? Is Keye in on it?" He took a stop closer and glared. He wasn't getting any scent of anger or aggression, but he figured it wouldn't hurt to keep up the pressure a little. The man didn't appear to have any weapons, but he knew better than to assume.

Vincent smiled slightly, as he caught Keye's scent on Logan. He didn't see any signs of damage, plus the guy was still standing, so he figured that whatever went on had been consensual. "Family business. We've been following this guy, keeping tabs on him. I need to get back on his trail. So far, he's just been sniffing around, but we need to make sure. You should talk to Keye about it tomorrow. Let her sleep tonight, though; she's going to need it. Nice to meet you, uh, what's your name?"

"Name's Logan." He retracted his claws, but his fists were still clenched. "Forgive me if I don't shake hands," he added with mock formality.

Vincent laughed aloud at this. "So you do know Keye. Well, talk to her. I'll give you a helpful hint about my cousin Keye--she'll do almost anything to avoid telling an outright lie, because she knows she can't lie worth a damn. But wait until morning, if you can. Hey, is Storm still at the school? The one with all that white hair and the gorgeous set of, er, the nice figure?" He grinned as he started off after Sabertooth. "I met her once--what a knockout."

Logan knew when he was being distracted. "She's still there, and she'll knock you out, all right, if she hears you talking like that about her."

"Tell her I said hello, too," Vincent said, still smiling as he moved further off. "I'll probably be seeing you again, Logan."

"Hey, bub, you said 'we'--who else is in on this?"

Vinnie paused, then decided to put Logan in the loop. He said over his shoulder, "There are two others--cousins of mine--who are trailing Creed. You won't come across them unless they want to be found--neither will Creed. But they'll be around, if he's around. And he'll be around. I'll contact you when he comes back this way, since you seem to be the only one on the ball around here." He melted into the shadows. "Keep an eye on my cousin," he said softly as he disappeared into the thicker trees.

Doesn't make a sound, Logan thought. He's good. Maybe shouldn't have let him go, but my instincts say he's playin' it straight. What's Creed up to? Guess I'll take ol' Vincent's advice and talk to Keye. I wouldn't mind waking her up for a cozy little chat. He got a little turned on at the thought of interrogating Keye. Easy, you don't even know whose side she's on. Might be fun finding out, though. Better fill in the professor and Cyclops, too, since these guys are pretty much invisible. He snapped his fingers and Newfie lazily rose to her feet. "C'mon, let's go, Porkie." He headed back to the mansion at a trot, Newfie content to amble behind this time.

Back at the grounds, Logan did a quick perimeter check, and then let himself and the dog back into the house. After double-checking the security system for the mansion and grounds, he stuck his head in Katie's room to see her sleeping peacefully, clutching a doll. Newfie pushed past him and promptly sprawled at the foot of the bed. At least the dog wasn't as worthless as she looked, Logan thought. He headed off to his own corridor, pausing outside Keye's door and listening. He could hear the faint, even sound of her breathing and was sorely tempted to see if he could make her breath a little faster. He was pretty sure she would like it . . . but that's what all perverts told themselves. He cracked his neck. What'd that guy mean, she was gonna need her sleep? He headed back to the security center, where he ascertained that the Professor was still awake and in his study. Logan used the intercom to fill him in on the situation. The professor then used Cerebro to confirm that Sabertooth was about twenty miles from the mansion. Logan spent the rest of the pre-dawn hours patrolling the mansion and grounds, and checking security cameras. Xavier decided to wait until dawn, and then deploy Scott and Storm to find Creed and intercept him if necessary.

At dawn, Logan walked into Keye's room to find her gone. Shit, she's a sneaky one. Not many can get past me. He calmed a bit as he picked up Keye's trail. She's still here, he thought, and followed the scent to Xavier's office. He paused outside the door, grimacing as thought, Seem to be makin' a habit of eavesdropping. He heard voices and leaned in to listen.

"Charles, I know it's barely my second day here, but I may need some time off very soon. Family business," Keye said, sounding a little sad.

"Keye, is it something you can discuss? I've known your mother and grandmother for years, and I am somewhat familiar with your family's dealings, but I don't want to pry."

"Did they ever talk about encanu to you? It means 'the arm wielded' or sometimes 'the hammer' depending on who you ask. It comes from our tinker tradition, I guess."

"A very old tradition indeed, according to your grandmother, although I assumed encanu was only ceremonial nowadays, rather like a sergeant-at-arms. Every year a different family member holds the title, am I correct?"

"Yes, Charles. But this year I'm encanu. My family has a sort of large-scale 'neighborhood watch.' Encanu acts on their behalf. In this day and age, encanu hardly ever does anything but notify authorities of trouble that the watch has uncovered. If the authorities can't, or won't, take action, encanu takes care of it. This year, I am the hammer, and Victor Creed is the problem. He's been on a serial raping and killing spree. The last victim was 13. It's my responsibility to stop him."

"Are you telling me that you are some sort of assassin? I can hardly believe that, Keye, you're not a killer."

"If he's salvageable, I'm obligated to try and 'fix' him. But some people are just evil, Charles. Prisons can't hold this guy, especially with friends like Magneto to bust him out. So yes, if necessary, I will kill him."

"As it happens, that will not be necessary. I've been following Creed's movements with Cerebro since early this morning."

And if it wasn't for Vincent Alo and his two buddies, this morning mighta been too late, Logan thought. But I'll be damned if I let little Sniper Barbie get herself mutilated and killed by Creed. Got first dibs on his ass anyway--gotta finish the job I started at Liberty Island. Seething, he was about to knock, but paused again when he heard Xavier continue.

"I've sent Scott and Storm out to find him and intercept him, if necessary. Let us handle this, Keye. We know from experience how very dangerous Sabertooth can be. You've heard the story of our run-in with him at Liberty Island? Logan was hard-pressed to defeat him, and Logan is one of the most powerful mutants I know. Forgive me, but you're physically no stronger than a normal, somewhat athletic, human. You'll never get close enough touch him, as your gifts require. Frankly, I'm surprised your family would allow it, let alone require it."

"Charles, I won't be working alone. My cousins in the watch have already tracked him. He was in the vicinity last night. Since he's been going after young girls, I'm afraid for the students. My cousins will have my back, but this is my responsibility, my duty. Killing him isn't the hard part--I need to make sure he stays dead."

"Keye, at least let us assist you. Let me speak to Logan--he's the logical choice to help you with this." The professor wondered how much longer it would be before Logan came in from the hallway.

Keye was adamant. "Logan would be exactly the wrong choice for this. He'd never let me get near Creed, you know. He thinks women are pretty much ornamental. And he won't be able to kill him. The best we could hope for would be another standoff. Creed would rape and kill again, somewhere else. I'd prefer you left Logan out of this altogether."

Logan skipped the knock and stalked into the office. "You can't be serious. This isn't some poor little mental case for some bleedin' heart do-gooder to try to rehabilitate, for chrissakes. This guy'll kill you and enjoy watching ya die. He gets off on women screamin', darlin', and he'll make sure you scream plenty before he's done with ya." He'd walked write up to Keye and was practically nose-to-nose with her, his fists clenched in frustration. "Ya just don't get it, do ya?" he yelled. "You'll be dead. For nothin'." Just to let her know the cat was already out of the bag, he added, "By the way, yer cousin Vinnie said to say hello."

Keye's heart sank, but her chin rose as she replied, "Eavesdroppers never hear anything good of themselves, Logan." Logan's reply was a growl. He actually growled at me! she realized. Growled! Like I'm some chicken-shit adolescent in one of his self-defense classes.

Professor Xavier watched with interest as they faced off. He'd known Logan was listening, but he'd allowed it because he felt Logan was Keye's best chance of survival if she were foolish enough to go up against Sabertooth. After all, she might be right. Wolverine versus Sabertooth might very well end up in a stalemate. If the two of them could work together, however, they might just pull it off. Logan's tactical ability, experience, and sheer strength, coupled with Keye's unique abilities, they might put Creed out of business once and for all. But could they work together? Charles took a quick peek at Logan's state of mind. He's truly afraid for her. He's already as protective of her as he is of Rogue or Katie. Well, well, the Wolverine's heart is in danger. Would he be able to let he do what she needs to when the time comes? But he merely said, "I'd appreciate your input more, Logan, if it were delivered a tad less loudly."

Logan scowled into Keye's face and stepped back. "My input," he said, "is that she is nuts." He was breathing heavily and struggled to control his rage. "Somebody needs to scare some sense into her."

Keye tried to calm her own racing heart. If he only knew. She said aloud, "Oh, I'm scared all right. I know exactly what Creed is capable of. I also know what I'm capable of. Don't underestimate me, Logan. I've got a shot at stopping him for good, and I'm going to take it."

"I'll take care of it, Keye. I met yer cousin Vincent last night. He seems like a stand-up guy. He'll let me in on the mission. We'll deal wth Creed. Darlin' I know you believe in equal rights and all, but what were ya planning to do? Put on yer pretty pink dress and help him get in touch with his feelings? He'll gut you for fun. You stand down, ya hear me?"

Keye lost it yet again. This man made her furious. "Stand down? You listen to me, you overbearing asshole! I've seen the crime scene photos. I know what he's done--what he'll try to do. Give me some credit." It was her turn to get in his face. "You think I'm some kind of amateur? Think again. I've seen the worst of the worst, you jerk. He's not the first serial killer I've come across and he probably won't be the last. I've had a front-row seat in their rotten brains. I'm not immortal; I don't have 'healing factor.' Believe me, I'm smart enough to know the danger. It's a calculated risk, but I'm taking it. So butt out. Don't get in my way." Logan grabbed her upper arms and looked like he might shake her. The professor decided to intervene.

"Logan, Keye, nothing can be gained by this shouting match. I believe the best way to approach this is to share information and work together. No, Logan, let me finish. Keye is a lot stronger than you realize. She is not going in alone. Her cousins are very experienced and able men. They've done this before, albeit probably not with anyone as dangerous as Creed. If you insist on interfering, I'll have no choice but to prevent you from possibly jeopardizing the outcome." He waved his hand as an outraged Logan began to interrupt. "However, if you decide you would like to assist Keye and the watch, you will have to give up your idea of merely settling a score and instead work to ensure Sabertooth is stopped permanently. I suggest you meet with Keye and Vincent, go over the plan with them, and decide whether this is something you want to be involved in. I'm sure that if you get your chivalrous streak under control,"--Logan snorted at this--"your assistance will be very useful."

Keye looked at Charles in disbelief. He didn't need to read her mind to know what she was thinking. She has no idea how Logan feels about her, Charles thought, because he's been nothing but a horse's ass around her. She's hurt and angry that he doesn't seem to take her seriously.

Logan took a deep breath. "Sure, Keye, why don't ya set up a meeting with Vinnie. I'm sure if the two of ya could just explain the plan to me," he said sweetly, "I'd be more'n happy to look at some options." Like whether you'd rather be bound and gagged and locked in yer room, or just bound and gagged and locked in my room, while I go take care of Sabertooth. Xavier caught that thought, but said nothing, hoping they'd eventually work it out.

"I just bet," she said with narrowed eyes, "you would." Remind me to check the weather report for Hell, too, buddy; last I heard it hadn't frozen over. "I'll call him right after breakfast." And then we'll figure out how to ditch Logan while we take care of Creed.

"Well," said the professor mildly, "that's that, then." His stomach gave a polite rumble. "I believe I smell Mrs. Stone's cinnamon rolls."