X-Mansion front entrance, late evening.
The mansion loomed ahead, its grand façade lit by the golden hues of the setting sun. Xander approached slowly, the gravel crunching under his boots. A duffel bag was slung over his shoulder, but it wasn't just full of clothes—inside were the remnants of a chaotic week in New York: a torn hoodie that had barely survived his fight with Rhino, a half-empty bottle of painkillers, and a few pieces of gear Felicia had slipped into his hands with a sly smile.
As much as he wanted to feel like himself, there was no denying that things were different now. He wasn't just Xander Harris from Sunnydale anymore. He wasn't even just Xander Harris with claws. He was something more—and that terrified him.
He stopped at the base of the stairs, staring at the mansion's front doors. The weight of his doubts pressed down on him. What if they told him to leave? What if Logan turned him away? He shook his head, trying to banish the thought. Come on, Harris. You've faced vampires, demons, and worse. You can handle one grumpy Canadian.
The doors creaked open before he could knock, and Rogue leaned casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed and a smirk already forming. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say what the cat left behind?"
Xander froze, his brain scrambling for a response. "Uh… hey, Rogue. Long time no see."
Rogue's eyes narrowed playfully as she stepped aside to let him in. "You've got a bit of a glow about ya. Somethin' happen out there in the big city?"
Xander stepped past her, dropping his bag near the staircase. "What, this glow? It's just New York smog. Really gets into your pores."
Rogue snorted. "Smog, huh? Funny, you smell more like trouble. Let me guess—this has somethin' to do with a certain silver-haired thief?"
Xander shot her a sharp look, but her teasing grin only widened. "You do know her."
"I didn't say anything," Xander muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm here for something else, okay? Is Logan around?"
Rogue tilted her head, the teasing glint in her eyes softening. "Yeah, he's down in the Danger Room, beatin' up somethin' that probably deserved it. You lookin' to get yourself some of that?"
Xander hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I think it's time I figured out what I can actually do."
Rogue's smirk returned, but this time it was tinged with something almost like approval. "Well, ain't that somethin'. Go on, Rookie. Just don't let him scare you off."
"Thanks," Xander said, already heading toward the elevator. "But I think I've been scared enough for one week."
:-:-:-:-:
Danger Room observation deck.
The elevator ride down felt longer than it should have. Xander's nerves were buzzing, the faint scent of steel and sweat growing stronger as he descended. When the doors finally opened, he stepped into the observation deck, where a wall of glass overlooked the Danger Room below.
Logan was there, shirtless, his claws extended as he tore through a series of holographic Sentinels. The simulation flickered as sparks flew, but Logan didn't stop. He moved like a force of nature—precise, relentless, and unyielding.
Xander swallowed hard. And I want to train with that guy?
The simulation ended abruptly with a loud clang, the final Sentinel collapsing in a heap of pixelated rubble. Logan retracted his claws, his chest heaving as he turned toward the control panel. His sharp eyes caught sight of Xander through the glass, and his brows furrowed.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Logan grunted as he entered the observation deck, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from his face. "What's the occasion, Harris? You here to tell me another joke?"
"Not exactly," Xander said, his voice steadier than he expected. "I need your help."
Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Xander took a deep breath. "I've been… dealing with some stuff. Claws, instincts, fights I probably shouldn't have walked away from. And I can't keep winging it. I need to figure out what I'm doing before someone else gets hurt."
Logan studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "You're asking me to train you."
"Yeah," Xander said, his fists clenching at his sides. "I don't want to keep messing up. I need to get this under control."
Logan's gaze narrowed. "You sure about that? Training with me ain't exactly a walk in the park."
"I'm sure," Xander replied, meeting Logan's eyes. "I've been out there, Logan. I've seen what happens when I don't know what I'm doing. If I don't figure this out, I'm just putting more people in danger."
Logan let out a low growl, tossing the towel aside. "Alright, kid. I'll give you one shot. But you listen to me, and you don't quit halfway through. You're either all in, or you're out. Got it?"
Xander nodded. "Got it."
Logan smirked faintly, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. "Good. Be ready tomorrow morning. And bring a spare pair of pants—you're gonna need 'em."
Xander blinked. "Should I be worried about that?"
Logan chuckled darkly, already heading back toward the Danger Room. "You'll find out soon enough."
As the doors closed behind Logan, Xander exhaled, feeling a strange mix of relief and dread. He had no idea what he was in for, but one thing was certain—he wasn't backing down.
:-:-:-:-:
The lounge was quiet, lit by the warm glow of a crackling fireplace. Most of the students had retreated to their dorms, leaving the sprawling room almost empty save for Rogue and Gambit, who were seated on a couch near the fire. Rogue was curled up with a book, her gloved fingers idly flipping the pages, while Gambit shuffled a deck of cards with practiced ease, his red-on-black eyes glinting in the light.
Xander hesitated in the doorway, his duffel bag still slung over his shoulder. He wasn't sure if he was ready to dive into the inevitable barrage of teasing he'd get from Gambit—or the sharp observations Rogue seemed to deliver with uncanny precision. But he also knew he couldn't avoid them forever.
"Well, well," Gambit drawled, his Cajun accent as smooth as ever. "Look who came crawlin' back. Thought maybe New York had swallowed you whole."
Xander rolled his eyes as he stepped into the room, dropping his bag near the couch. "Nice to see you too, Remy. Miss me?"
Gambit smirked, the cards in his hand fanning out like a magician's trick. "Don't flatter yourself, mon ami. Rogue and I were just wonderin' how long it'd take before you realized you belong here."
"Didn't realize I had fans," Xander shot back, sinking into an armchair opposite them. "But I'm touched. Really."
Rogue glanced up from her book, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "So, what brought you back, Xander? Thought you were off playing hero in the big city."
Xander shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Let's just say New York had a few surprises for me. Some good, some… not so good."
"Uh-huh," Rogue said, closing her book and setting it aside. "And does one of those surprises happen to have silver hair and a penchant for trouble?"
Xander stiffened, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Why do you keep bringing her up?"
"'Cause it's obvious," Rogue said, her tone amused. "You've got that look about you. Like a guy who's been outta his depth but didn't mind the view."
Gambit chuckled, shuffling his cards again. "Sounds like Felicia, alright. She got a way of makin' you feel special, even when she's robbin' you blind."
"Okay, first of all," Xander said, holding up a hand, "nothing was stolen. And second… wait, how do you know her?"
Gambit grinned, his expression full of mischief. "Felicia and I go way back. She's a pro, that one. But careful, mon ami—she's got claws just like you, and she ain't afraid to use 'em."
Xander groaned, rubbing his temples. "Great. This is exactly the kind of advice I was hoping for."
"Don't mind him," Rogue said, shooting Gambit a pointed look. "He likes to play the wise old thief, but he's just jealous you've got better taste."
"Better taste?" Gambit repeated, feigning offense. "Cher, you wound me. I'll have you know…"
"Focus," Rogue said, turning her attention back to Xander. "So, what's really on your mind? You didn't come all the way back here just to dodge questions about Felicia."
Xander hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I'm… trying to figure things out. About me. About these powers. I asked Logan to help me train."
Rogue's eyebrows shot up, and Gambit let out a low whistle. "Logan, huh? You sure about that? He ain't exactly gentle when it comes to teachin'."
"Yeah, I've noticed," Xander said, his voice dry. "But I need to do this. I can't keep winging it every time something happens. If I don't learn how to control this, someone's going to get hurt."
Rogue nodded, her expression softening. "I get that. And honestly? You're doin' the right thing. Logan might be tough, but he knows what he's doing. He'll push you, but he won't let you fail."
"Just remember," Gambit added, leaning back with a grin, "if Logan gets too rough, you can always come to me. I'll teach you the finer points of finesse."
Rogue rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him. You're better off stickin' with Logan. Remy's idea of finesse is blowin' stuff up and hopin' for the best."
Gambit held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey now, it's an art form."
Xander couldn't help but laugh, some of the tension in his chest easing. "Thanks, guys. I needed that."
"Anytime," Rogue said, her tone warm. "Just don't forget—you're not alone here. We're all here if you need us."
Xander nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. I'm starting to realize that."
As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Xander felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could figure this out. And if nothing else, he wasn't facing it alone.
:-:-:-:-:
Later that day.
The med-lab hummed with quiet efficiency, its walls lined with advanced medical equipment and monitors that glowed softly in the dim light. Xander sat on the edge of an examination table, his hands fidgeting as he watched Hank McCoy—Beast—move gracefully around the room. For someone covered in blue fur, Hank had an impressive knack for making science look elegant.
"Relax, Xander," Hank said, adjusting a piece of equipment. "This is a routine observation. No invasive procedures, I promise."
"Yeah, sure," Xander muttered. "That's what they always say before someone sticks a needle in me."
Hank chuckled, his yellow eyes sparkling with amusement. "You have my word, no needles—unless you feel the urge to volunteer for one of my experiments. But I suspect you have more than enough on your plate."
Xander smirked, trying to ease his nerves. "Yeah, I'll pass on the mad scientist routine, thanks."
Hank pulled out a small handheld scanner and began running it over Xander's torso and arms. The device emitted a soft blue light, and Xander tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.
"So," Xander began, trying to make conversation, "you seem to know a lot about me for a guy I've barely talked to. What's the deal? Did Logan fill you in?"
"Not entirely," Hank replied, his tone light but measured. "Though Logan has shared a few anecdotes, I prefer to rely on more concrete sources of information. The Professor provided me with some context about your… unique upbringing."
Xander raised an eyebrow. "Context, huh? Sounds ominous."
Hank set the scanner aside and turned to a nearby console, pulling up a holographic display. "As you may know, Xavier's network is extensive. When Logan mentioned your… unorthodox history, I decided to investigate. Sunnydale, for instance, is something of an enigma in academic circles. Its unusually high mortality rate and reputation for unexplained phenomena make it a compelling case study."
Xander snorted. "Yeah, 'unexplained phenomena.' That's a nice way of saying 'demon central.'"
"Precisely," Hank said, his tone turning serious. "The Hellmouth is well-documented among those who study the occult. Its influence extends far beyond Sunnydale, affecting both human and non-human populations in profound ways. The fact that you survived such an environment—and thrived—speaks volumes about your resilience."
Xander rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. "I wouldn't say I thrived. More like I didn't die, which is kind of the bare minimum."
"Modesty aside," Hank continued, "your experiences provide valuable insight into the intersection of supernatural and genetic phenomena. When Logan mentioned the emergence of your claws, I began to wonder if prolonged exposure to the Hellmouth might have triggered latent abilities in your genome."
Xander blinked. "Wait—are you saying the Hellmouth gave me mutant powers?"
"Not directly," Hank clarified. "But the stress and trauma associated with such an environment could have acted as a catalyst. Mutations often manifest under extreme conditions—physical, emotional, or even magical. Your claws may be a result of genetic predisposition amplified by external factors."
"Great," Xander said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "So I'm a Hellmouth science project. That's just awesome."
Hank smiled faintly. "I wouldn't put it so bluntly. But your case is unique, to say the least. It warrants further study—if you're willing, of course."
Xander sighed, leaning back against the table. "Yeah, sure. Let's figure out what's wrong with me."
"There's nothing 'wrong' with you, Xander," Hank said firmly. "You're simply adapting to a new reality. And with the proper training, you'll find that your abilities are more of a gift than a burden."
Xander gave him a skeptical look. "You sure about that? 'Cause right now, it feels more like a cosmic joke."
Hank chuckled, turning back to his console. "Humor is an excellent coping mechanism, but I assure you, there's nothing humorous about your potential. With time and effort, you may find that you're capable of far more than you realize."
"Yeah, well, let's hope I live long enough to find out," Xander muttered, watching as Hank pulled up a new set of readings.
For the first time since stepping into the med-lab, Xander felt a small glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could figure all this out—and maybe Hank was the right person to help him do it.
:-:-:-:-:
The Danger Room—a vast, high-tech training facility capable of simulating any environment or scenario. The room is currently set to a dense forest, the sound of rustling leaves and distant wildlife echoing through the simulated environment.
Xander stepped into the Danger Room, his nerves crackling as he glanced around at the hyper-realistic forest. The air was cool and damp, the scent of pine and moss so convincing he could almost believe he was outdoors.
Almost.
The soft hum of the Danger Room's systems reminded him it was all an illusion—one capable of kicking his ass six ways to Sunday.
"Ya gonna stand there gawkin', or are we gonna get started?" Logan's gruff voice cut through the simulated peace.
Xander turned to see Logan leaning casually against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. His signature flannel shirt was rolled up to the elbows, and his ever-present scowl was firmly in place.
"I'm just soaking it in," Xander replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Y'know, before you break me in half."
Logan snorted. "Kid, if I wanted to break ya, I wouldn't need the Danger Room for that. This is about pushin' ya, not killin' ya."
"Comforting," Xander muttered under his breath.
Logan pushed off the tree and strode toward him. "Alright, listen up. This ain't about lookin' cool or showin' off. It's about instincts—fight or flight, survival. The claws? They're tools. But they don't mean squat if ya don't know how to use 'em."
Xander nodded, flexing his hands as the metallic claws extended with a soft snikt. He still wasn't entirely used to the sensation—it was both thrilling and unnerving, like carrying a loaded weapon you couldn't put down.
"First rule," Logan continued, circling him like a predator sizing up prey. "Don't hesitate. Out there, hesitation gets you killed."
"Got it. No hesitation," Xander said, his voice steadying. "What's the second rule?"
Logan stopped in front of him, his gaze sharp. "Don't get cocky. Confidence is good, but cockiness? That'll put you in a body bag."
"Noted," Xander said. "Anything else? Or are we diving straight into the part where I regret agreeing to this?"
Logan smirked, stepping back. "We'll start simple. Program, initiate level three combatants."
A robotic voice acknowledged the command, and the forest seemed to ripple. From the shadows emerged three humanoid figures clad in sleek, featureless black armor. They moved with a calculated precision, their movements in sync as they approached.
Xander tensed, his claws extending fully. "Okay. That's not ominous at all."
"Relax, kid," Logan said, rolling his shoulders. "They ain't real. But they will hurt like hell if you screw up. Now, show me what you've got."
The first armored figure lunged at Xander without warning, its speed catching him off guard. He barely managed to dodge, stumbling as the figure's blade-like arm slashed past him.
"Move your feet!" Logan barked from the sidelines. "You're not a tree—stay light!"
Xander gritted his teeth, regaining his balance. The second figure attacked, its strikes fast and relentless. This time, Xander parried with his claws, the clash of metal ringing out as sparks flew.
"Better," Logan said, his tone grudgingly approving. "Now hit back."
Xander ducked under a swing and slashed upward, his claws tearing through the figure's chest. It staggered but didn't fall, its glowing eyes locking onto him as it adjusted its stance.
"Why won't it go down?" Xander shouted, frustration creeping into his voice.
"They're tougher than you, kid," Logan replied, stepping into the fray. His own claws extended with a snikt as he intercepted the third figure, dismantling it in seconds with brutal efficiency. "Ya gotta work for it."
The first figure lunged again, forcing Xander to roll out of the way. He came up swinging, his claws slicing through the figure's arm. This time, it crumpled to the ground, sparks flying from its severed limb.
"That's more like it," Logan called, a hint of pride in his voice. "Keep goin'."
Xander turned to face the remaining figure, his breath ragged but his focus sharpening. He circled it, remembering Logan's advice to stay light on his feet. When it attacked, he sidestepped and countered with a vicious slash, his claws finding purchase in its torso.
The figure collapsed, flickering out of existence as the simulation reset.
"Not bad," Logan said, walking over. "Clumsy, but not bad."
Xander wiped sweat from his brow, his chest heaving. "Clumsy? I just took down three robo-ninjas!"
Logan smirked, patting him on the shoulder—hard enough to make Xander wince. "Yeah, and it only took ya twice as long as it should've. But hey, at least you didn't die. That's progress."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Xander muttered, retracting his claws. "So, what's next? More robots? Or do I get a break?"
"Breaks are for civilians," Logan said, gesturing for him to follow. "We're uppin' the difficulty. Program, initiate level five combatants."
Xander groaned as the forest shimmered again, revealing a new set of opponents—larger, faster, and clearly more dangerous.
"You're tryin' to kill me, aren't you?" Xander said, half-joking.
Logan grinned, his claws glinting in the simulated sunlight. "Nah. If I was tryin' to kill ya, you'd know it. Now quit yappin' and fight."
:-:-:-:-:
The Danger Room—configured as a dense forest teeming with life. The sound of rustling leaves and distant birdsong contrasts with the tense atmosphere as Xander and Logan prepare to face the next wave of simulated opponents.
Xander adjusted his stance as the forest shimmered, the peaceful veneer of nature giving way to an ominous tension. Out of the shadows stepped five new figures—taller and broader than the last, their black armor gleaming under simulated sunlight. Each one carried a weapon—bladed staffs, energy whips, and heavy gauntlets that crackled with electric power.
"Level five?" Xander muttered, flexing his fingers as his claws extended. "Do you usually throw rookies into the deep end, or am I just lucky?"
Logan smirked, cracking his neck. "You want coddlin', go talk to Xavier. I'm here to make sure you survive whatever's out there. And trust me, these tin cans are a walk in the park compared to the real deal."
"Great," Xander said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Nothing like trial by fire."
Logan didn't reply. Instead, he lunged at the nearest opponent with a feral growl, his claws slashing through its staff before it could swing. Sparks flew as the weapon shattered, the figure stepping back and recalibrating its stance.
"Focus!" Logan barked, glancing over his shoulder at Xander. "They're faster and smarter at this level. Don't wait for 'em to make the first move."
As if on cue, two of the armored figures rushed Xander. The first lashed out with an energy whip that hissed through the air like a snake. Xander barely ducked in time, the crackling whip grazing his shoulder and leaving a faint burn.
"Ow! Seriously?" Xander gritted his teeth, rolling out of the way as the second figure swung a bladed staff at his head. He retaliated with a wild swipe of his claws, the metal glinting in the artificial sunlight. The staff clanged against his claws, sparks flying as the two forces collided.
"Stop reactin'—start anticipatin'!" Logan shouted, dodging a strike from another figure and countering with a brutal upward slash that cleaved through its chest. "They're programmed to exploit your hesitation."
Xander growled, pushing back against the staff-wielding figure. He dropped low, sweeping his leg under its feet. The move worked, and the figure toppled backward. Xander didn't waste the opening—he drove his claws into its chest, severing the power core. The figure flickered and disappeared.
"One down," Xander muttered, turning just in time to see the whip-wielding figure lunging at him again. He raised his claws, slashing through the whip mid-strike. The severed energy coils flailed wildly before sputtering out.
"Two!" Xander shouted, his confidence building as he charged the disarmed figure. This time, he didn't hesitate—he slammed into it with his shoulder, knocking it into a tree. Before it could recover, he tore through its torso with a ferocious slash, dismantling it in a shower of sparks.
"Better," Logan said, sidestepping another attacker and slicing through its leg. The figure stumbled, and Logan finished it with a clean decapitation. "But you're still thinkin' too much. Trust your instincts."
Xander was about to reply when the ground beneath him rumbled. He looked up just in time to see the last two figures converging on him. One carried a massive gauntlet glowing with electric energy, while the other had a pair of blades that hummed ominously.
"Uh, Logan?" Xander called, backing up slowly. "A little help here?"
"Help yourself," Logan replied, taking a step back and crossing his arms. "You've got this, kid. Show me what you're made of."
Xander glared at him. "Gee, thanks for the pep talk."
The gauntlet-wielding figure struck first, slamming its fist into the ground. A burst of electricity rippled outward, forcing Xander to leap onto a nearby rock to avoid the surge. The blade-wielding figure seized the opening, darting forward with inhuman speed.
"Alright, no more Mr. Nice Guy," Xander growled, his claws extending fully. He deflected the first blade with a quick swipe, ducking under the second and countering with a slash aimed at its midsection. The figure twisted away at the last second, its agility rivaling his own.
"Come on," Xander muttered, circling his opponent. He feinted left, then lunged right, catching the figure off guard. His claws raked across its side, leaving a deep gash that sparked and sputtered. It stumbled, giving him the opening he needed. With a roar, he drove his claws into its chest, dismantling it in a shower of sparks.
The gauntlet-wielding figure charged at him next, its massive frame shaking the ground with every step. Xander braced himself, his mind racing. He couldn't overpower it—not head-on. But maybe he didn't have to.
"Okay, big guy," he muttered. "Let's dance."
As the figure swung its electrified gauntlet, Xander ducked and rolled, the charge missing him by inches. He darted behind a tree, using it as cover as the figure recalibrated its attack.
"Use the environment!" Logan called from the sidelines. "It's there for a reason!"
Xander glanced around, his eyes landing on a low-hanging branch above the figure. An idea sparked, and he darted forward, baiting the figure into following him. It raised its gauntlet for another strike, and Xander leapt at the last second, grabbing the branch and swinging up.
The figure's gauntlet slammed into the tree, splintering it as Xander flipped himself onto its shoulders. Before it could react, he drove his claws into its back, severing the power conduits. The figure let out a mechanical groan before collapsing to the ground in a heap of sparking metal.
Xander rolled to his feet, breathing hard as he surveyed the battlefield. The forest was littered with the remains of the simulated attackers, the hum of the Danger Room's systems the only sound.
"Not bad," Logan said, walking over and clapping a hand on Xander's shoulder. "Clumsy, but effective. You're startin' to get it."
"Thanks, I think," Xander replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "So… that's it, right? We're done?"
Logan smirked. "Kid, we're just gettin' started."
The Danger Room shimmered again, the forest morphing into a rocky canyon. From the cliffs above, new figures began to emerge—larger, more heavily armed, and twice as menacing.
Xander groaned. "Of course we are."
:-:-:-:-:
Xander was sitting cross-legged on the edge of a bed in one of the Xavier Institute's guest rooms, the soft glow of his phone's screen illuminating his face. His newly repaired phone felt heavier than it should, knowing that it held the weight of multiple missed calls and texts--most of them from Buffy and Willow. With a resigned sigh, he hit the call button for Buffy, knowing there was no way he could avoid this conversation any longer.
It rang twice before her voice came through, sharp and worried.
"Xander Harris! Where the hell have you been?" Buffy's tone was equal parts relief and irritation.
Xander winced, holding the phone slightly away from his ear. "Hey, Buff. Long time, no scream at me. How's the weather in Slayerland?"
"Don't you 'weather' me! Willow's been freaking out, and, newsflash, so have I. You disappear, leave cryptic updates about a vampire lord, and then we find out from Giles that you're running around New York with Wolverine's claws? Care to explain?"
Xander opened his mouth to respond, but another voice cut in before he could.
"Xander!" Willow's voice joined the call, thanks to the joys of conferencing. "Why didn't you call us back? I was starting to think you'd been eaten--or clawed--or turned into some weird mutant-demon hybrid!"
Xander groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, first of all, gross. Second, my phone was busted, like, completely busted. Just got it repaired today, which is why I'm calling now. And third, mutant-demon hybrid? Really? That's the vibe I'm giving off now?"
"Well…" Willow said hesitantly, "you do have claws, Xander. And glowing ones, too, according to Giles' report."
"They pulse," Xander corrected halfheartedly. "But I'm still me. I promise."
Buffy's sigh crackled through the line. "Xander, what is going on? Like, really? Are you okay? What's with the claws, and why are you playing sidekick to Mutant X? Did something happen with the vampire lord? Giles said you broke the ritual, but then… radio silence."
"I'm fine, I swear," Xander said, his tone softening. "It's just been… a lot. Breaking the ritual was only half the battle. There was a huge fight, and, uh, let's just say my new party trick came in handy. Logan--Wolverine--thinks it might be connected to his past somehow, so I'm staying at his place. Well, technically at Professor Xavier's place, but you get the idea."
"Logan?" Buffy's voice was dubious. "You're taking advice from the guy with anger issues and a permanent frown? Really?"
"He's not that bad once you get past the whole growling-and-brooding thing," Xander said defensively. "Besides, it's not like I have a lot of options here. He's the only person who might have answers about what's happening to me."
Willow's voice turned thoughtful. "Xander, if this is tied to Wolverine, maybe it's a genetic thing? I could look into any mystical connections, but if it's science-y, you might need more than just our usual magic tricks."
"Thanks, Wills," Xander said sincerely. "But for now, I'm focusing on figuring this out with the people here. It's… complicated. I promise I'll keep you both updated, though."
There was a long pause before Buffy spoke again, her tone quieter now. "You know you don't have to do this alone, right? I can come to New York if you need backup. Slayers are kind of great at claw-related emergencies."
Xander smiled despite himself. "I know you are, Buff. But I've got this. Besides, I don't want to drag you away from the Council. You've got enough on your plate without worrying about me."
Buffy huffed. "Yeah, well, I always worry about you, Xander. That's kind of my thing."
"And we did just launch a new initiative for training Watchers," Willow added. "Faith is helping with the baby Slayers, and Giles is doing more research work, but Buffy's been all over Europe recruiting new Watchers and mediating demon treaties."
"Wow," Xander said, genuinely impressed. "You're practically the Queen of Slayers now, Buff."
"Don't remind me," Buffy muttered. "I swear, if I have to listen to one more argument about interdimensional hunting zones, I might actually scream. So, seriously, coming to New York sounds like a vacation compared to what I've been dealing with."
Xander chuckled. "Tempting, but you're needed there. Trust me, I've got things under control. Or, you know, as under control as things ever are with me."
Willow's tone turned gentle. "Just promise you'll call us if you need help, okay? I can portal there in a second if you're in over your head. And… Xander? Be careful. We love you."
"I promise," Xander said, his voice steady. "Love you guys, too. And thanks for not yelling at me too much. I'm really sorry about going dark. It wasn't intentional."
Buffy's voice softened. "We get it. Just… keep us in the loop, okay? No more disappearing acts."
"You got it," Xander said, a hint of a smile in his voice.
As the call ended, Xander leaned back against the bedframe, the tension in his chest easing slightly. It wasn't perfect--Buffy and Willow still had their concerns--but at least he wasn't completely in the doghouse. For now, he could focus on the next steps in figuring out his connection to Logan and the truth about his claws.
::-:-:-:
-Montage Begins-
Xander crouches behind a fallen tree, sweat dripping down his face as holographic Sentinels search the area. His claws gleam faintly, his breathing steady as Logan's voice echoes in his ear through the comms.
"Don't freeze up, kid. Use your instincts," Logan growls.
The Sentinel's spotlight passes overhead, and Xander lunges from the shadows, claws slashing through its leg. Sparks fly as the machine topples. From the observation deck, Rogue and Hank watch the scene unfold.
"Not bad for a newbie," Rogue says, smirking.
Hank adjusts his glasses. "Indeed. His reaction time has significantly improved. Though he could stand to focus more on precision."
Inside the simulation, Logan appears behind Xander, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Good work," he mutters gruffly, before adding, "but you're still too slow." Logan throws Xander into a nearby pile of leaves as the next wave of Sentinels arrives.
:-:-:-:-:
The X-Mansion kitchen was alive with energy. The long wooden table at the center of the room was a battlefield of snacks, soda cans, and playing cards. Xander sat with Bobby, Jubilee, and Kitty, all of them mid-game, laughter filling the space like the pop of Jubilee's miniature fireworks sparking above her head.
"Boom!" Jubilee exclaimed, slamming her cards on the table. Her grin was a mile wide. "Full house. Pay up!"
Xander groaned dramatically, slouching back in his chair. "Why do I keep betting snacks? It's like I want to starve." He grabbed a handful of pretzels and tossed them toward Jubilee in defeat.
"Because you keep losing," Bobby chimed in, smirking as he formed a small ice sculpture of a trophy with a flick of his hand. He slid it across the table to Jubilee, who snatched it up triumphantly. "We've got to find something you're actually good at, Harris."
Kitty snorted, her grin teasing as she leaned forward, shuffling the remaining cards. "You mean besides getting thrown around by Logan?"
Xander shot her a look, deadpan. "Ha ha. At least I'm not the one who phased through a chair last week."
The group erupted into laughter, Jubilee clutching her sides as Kitty's face turned red. "That was an accident!" Kitty protested, though her own laughter quickly betrayed her.
"Sure, sure," Xander said, reaching for his soda. "I'll just keep that story in my back pocket for the next time someone mocks my incredibly valuable contribution to mutant society."
"And what's that?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow. "Snarky commentary and losing at cards?"
Xander raised his can in a mock toast. "Exactly. Everyone's got to have a superpower."
"More like a sub-power," Jubilee teased, popping a pretzel into her mouth.
The banter continued as the game went on, punctuated by the occasional burst of Jubilee's colorful fireworks and Bobby's icy tricks. Kitty phased her hand through the table once to grab a fallen card, earning another round of teasing from Xander, who declared her move "absolutely illegal."
Despite the chaos, the warmth of camaraderie filled the room. For Xander, this felt almost surreal—a table full of friends, no Hellmouth, no apocalyptic dangers hanging over their heads. Just laughter, snacks, and the comforting sense of belonging.
As the game wound down, Xander glanced around the table, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He might not have superpowers like the rest of them, but here, he didn't feel like the odd one out.
"You know," he said, leaning back in his chair, "for a group of people with literal superpowers, you're all surprisingly easy to beat in a battle of wit."
Jubilee rolled her eyes, tossing a chip at him. "Keep dreaming, Harris. Now deal the cards."
Xander chuckled, grabbing the deck. "Alright, but I'm warning you—this time, I'm going all in."
The group burst into laughter again as the game began anew, their voices carrying through the mansion like an echo of simpler times.
:-:-:-:-:-:
Xander faces off against Storm in the open field, her eyes glowing white as she conjures a small, controlled whirlwind around them. Xander struggles to keep his footing, slashing at the air to steady himself.
"Focus, Xander," Storm says, her voice calm but firm. "You must trust your instincts, even in chaos."
"I'm trying!" Xander yells as the wind knocks him backward into a muddy patch.
Storm disperses the wind with a flick of her hand, smiling gently as she offers him a hand. "You're improving. But you must learn to move with the storm, not against it."
As Xander accepts her help, he mutters, "Pretty sure Logan doesn't throw poetry at me during training."
Storm smirks, her tone light. "Logan has his methods. I have mine. Let's try again."
:-:-:-:-:
Xander perches awkwardly on the edge of a rooftop, his claws sheathed as he watches Felicia—Black Cat—land gracefully beside him. Her suit gleams in the moonlight, her silver hair flowing behind her as she smirks at him.
"Trying to be broody, claws? It doesn't suit you," she teases.
"Just… thinking," Xander replies, gesturing to the bustling city below. "About how I used to fight vamps in a place half this size. Now it's all mutants, science experiments, and… whatever this is."
Felicia sits beside him, her voice softer now. "Welcome to the big leagues, kid. But hey, you've got something most people don't."
"What's that?"
"Me," she says, her smirk returning. "Try to keep up." She leaps off the building, and Xander follows, clumsily landing a few seconds later.
:-:-:-:-:-:
The diner was one of those places that seemed plucked out of time—faded vinyl booths, a jukebox that hadn't worked in years, and a lingering smell of coffee and fried food. Xander and Felicia sat tucked away in a corner booth, a plate of fries and two milkshakes between them. The cozy hum of conversation from other patrons made the place feel warm, almost homey.
Felicia was dressed down tonight, her platinum hair tied into a loose bun with a few strands framing her face. She was mid-laugh, her green eyes sparkling as she leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"So, let me get this straight," she said, trying to stifle her amusement. "You thought it was a demon chicken?"
Xander raised his hands defensively, his own grin breaking through despite himself. "Hey, it had giant talons and a murderous gleam in its eyes! What was I supposed to think?" He grabbed a fry, gesturing animatedly before dunking it into ketchup. "Turns out, nope, not a demon chicken. Just some Sunnydale special—a mutant bird thing. Because, you know, classic Hellmouth weirdness."
Felicia smirked, taking a sip from her milkshake. "And what, your brilliant solution was to wrestle it?"
"Not my first choice," Xander replied, mock indignation in his tone. "But let me tell you, mutant chickens are not fans of being trapped in gym lockers. We saved the day, though."
Felicia leaned her chin on her hand, watching him with a warmth that made his words stumble a little in his mind. "You're full of surprises, Harris."
Xander shrugged, trying to play it cool. "What can I say? I've got layers. Like an onion. Or lasagna. But, you know, less cheesy. Usually."
Felicia let out another laugh, her voice softening into a chuckle. "You're such a dork."
"I prefer charming," Xander shot back, his grin widening. "But I'll accept dork."
Their banter ebbed into an easy silence, the kind that felt less awkward and more… comfortable. Xander grabbed another fry, chewing absently as Felicia fiddled with the straw of her milkshake.
From across the room, the low hum of the diner's ancient air conditioner buzzed in time with a faint oldie playing on the radio. Xander couldn't remember the last time he felt so at ease—no Hellmouth, no apocalypse looming, just fries, a milkshake, and someone who actually seemed to enjoy his company for who he was.
"So," Felicia said, breaking the silence. "Do all your stories end with you saving the day?"
Xander smirked. "Nah, some end with me barely escaping the day. That's where the real excitement is."
Felicia laughed again, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet," Xander said, his tone playful, "here you are. Sitting across from me, voluntarily sharing fries. That means you're stuck with me now."
Felicia tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "Maybe I like ridiculous."
Xander blinked, momentarily at a loss for words, but the warmth in her gaze kept his grin firmly in place. He reached for another fry, his mind already racing to come up with the next ridiculous story to keep her laughing.
If the world outside the diner was falling apart, it could wait. Just for a little while longer.
:-:-:-:-:
Xander leans against the railing, staring out at the moonlit grounds. Logan approaches, beer in hand, and joins him without a word.
After a moment, Logan speaks. "You're gettin' better, kid. Still got a ways to go, but you're holdin' your own."
Xander chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Coming from you, I'll take that as high praise."
Logan takes a swig of his beer, then glances at Xander. "You keep this up, you might actually survive out there."
"Gee, thanks, Dad," Xander replies, smirking.
Logan snorts, shaking his head. "You're a pain in the ass, Harris. But you're startin' to grow on me."
:-:-:-:
The moon hung low over the X-Mansion, its silvery light bathing the training grounds in an eerie glow. The stillness of the night was broken only by the rhythmic sound of claws slicing through a wooden post. Xander's movements were sharper now, his strikes more deliberate and controlled. The makeshift target shuddered with every blow, the splintering wood a testament to his progress.
From the sidelines, Logan watched silently, arms crossed over his broad chest. His gruff exterior didn't betray it, but he was impressed.
"Not bad, kid," Logan muttered as Xander landed a particularly clean strike. "You're finally starting to get it."
Xander straightened, his breath visible in the crisp night air. "Yeah, well, I had a decent teacher."
"Decent?" Logan raised an eyebrow. "You're welcome."
Xander opened his mouth to reply, but a faint rustle from the treeline froze them both. The night seemed to grow colder, the air thick with tension. Logan's nostrils flared as he sniffed the air, his instincts screaming danger.
"You hear that?" Xander whispered, his claws instinctively sliding out.
"I hear it," Logan said, his voice low, his gaze fixed on the dark expanse of trees beyond the training grounds.
The stillness stretched into seconds that felt like hours. Then, without warning, a figure launched from the shadows. Xander barely had time to duck as a blur of claws and fury slashed through the space where his head had been.
The figure landed with a predatory grace, crouched low like a panther about to pounce. As she straightened, the moonlight revealed a young woman with wild, dark hair and piercing green eyes. Her fists clenched, and three sharp claws extended from each knuckle with a metallic snikt. Then, with a fluid movement, claws slid from her feet as well, gleaming like silver in the pale light.
"Who the hell—" Xander began, only to be cut off as she lunged at him again.
Xander barely managed to block the attack, his claws meeting hers in a deafening clash of metal. She moved with a ferocity and precision he couldn't match, every strike forcing him further back.
"Logan!" Xander yelled as he parried another strike. "A little help here?"
Logan stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Back off, kid," he growled. "She's not after you."
The girl froze at the sound of his voice, her body taut like a coiled spring. Her green eyes locked onto Logan, narrowing with suspicion.
Logan took another step closer, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "I don't know who you are, but if you've got a problem, it's with me."
For a moment, her gaze flickered, a brief flash of confusion breaking through her feral intensity. But before Logan could say more, an electronic buzz echoed through the air. The girl winced, her hands flying to her temples as her claws retracted.
"What the hell was that?" Xander muttered, still catching his breath.
The girl staggered back, her eyes glazing over. Logan's instincts screamed at him to grab her, but before he could react, she turned and sprinted into the woods, disappearing into the shadows.
"Damn it," Logan muttered, his claws sliding out with a sharp snikt as he started to follow.
"Logan, wait!" Xander called after him.
Logan stopped, his fists clenched at his sides. He stared into the darkness for a long moment before turning back to Xander.
"You okay, kid?"
"Just another day of getting attacked by mystery people," Xander said, wincing as he examined a shallow cut on his arm. "Who the hell was that?"
Logan's jaw tightened as he sheathed his claws. "I don't know," he admitted, though his voice was laced with doubt. "But there's something about her…"
Xander frowned. "You think she's working with someone?"
"Maybe," Logan said, his voice low. "But one thing's for sure—she's trouble. And if she's here, it means more trouble's not far behind."
The two stood in silence, their breaths visible in the cool night air as the forest seemed to watch them.
:-:-:-:-:
Logan's Quarters, Late Night
The small desk lamp cast a dim glow over Logan's room, illuminating the stark, utilitarian furnishings. Logan sat hunched forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, replaying the night's attack in his mind. The girl's claws, her fighting style, the strange familiarity in her eyes—it all gnawed at him.
The soft scrape of paper sliding under the door snapped him out of his thoughts. His claws slid out with a muted snikt as he rose, silently crossing the room. He crouched, finding a plain envelope lying just inside the door.
Quickly he opened the door. But unfortunately, the hallway was empty. Not even a sent was left behind.
He picked it up, his chest tightening as he saw the handwriting.
Alexander, James.
His brows furrowed, the delicate script sparking hazy memories—a warm laugh, tired but kind eyes, and the way she used to say his name: "James." He turned the envelope over, and the name in the corner froze him in place: Jessica Harris Ne - Martin.
Logan's breath hitched as he tore open the envelope. Inside was a letter and a photograph.
The photograph made him stagger slightly. Jessica stood in the frame, her smile soft and full of love, holding two tiny infants—one swaddled in a blue blanket, the other in pink.
His hands trembled as he unfolded the letter.
My dearest James,
If you're reading this, it means I'm gone, and there's no more time to say what should have been said long ago. I've struggled for years with whether to write this, but after all Alexander has been through, I knew you both deserved the truth.
James, I don't know if you remember me, but I remember you. I remember the strength in you, the fire that refused to be extinguished no matter what they did to you. I remember your dry humor and the way you'd always manage to make me laugh, even in that awful place. I never thought I'd fall in love there, but I did. And when you disappeared, I didn't know if you were alive or dead, but I held on to the hope that one day you might come back.
What I didn't tell you then, because I never got the chance, is that I was pregnant.
You have a son, James. His name is Alexander. He's so much like you. Stubborn as hell when he sets his mind to something, but with a heart bigger than he knows what to do with. When he was a baby, he had this habit of making these grumpy little noises when he didn't get what he wanted—I always joked he got it from you. As he grew up, he'd try to look tough whenever he got in trouble, but I'd catch him sneaking extra cookies for a friend who had less. He's smart, funny, and more courageous than he realizes.
I wish you could have seen him when he first learned to ride a bike. He refused to let me help, kept saying, 'I can do it myself.' He fell so many times, but he wouldn't give up. When he finally did it, he looked at me with the biggest grin and said, 'Told you I could.' That's him, James. That's your son.
But Alexander isn't your only child.
You had a daughter, too. Her name was Laura. She was his twin. She was so small when she was born, so fragile. The doctors told me she had a genetic defect. They said she wouldn't make it past her first birthday. I believed them. I mourned her. But James… something about it never felt right.
There were men at the hospital. Men in suits who didn't belong there. They asked questions about me, about the babies. I thought I was being paranoid, but when they told me Laura had passed, they wouldn't let me see her body. I never knew if I could believe them, but I couldn't fight them alone.
If she's alive, someone took her from us. If she's dead, I still don't know why.
Alexander doesn't know about you. I didn't tell him, not because I didn't want him to know you, but because I thought it would protect him. Now I know I was wrong. I don't know what's happening, but if this letter finds you both, someone knows the truth. I only hope they haven't hurt you yet.
James—be careful. Stay together, protect each other, and don't let the world take the good in you the way it tried to take it from me. I love you both more than you will ever know.
Jessica
Logan's jaw tightened as he read the last lines, his grip on the letter firm but trembling. His eyes drifted to the photograph, to Jessica's tired but radiant smile, to the tiny bundles in her arms.
"Jess…" he muttered, his voice breaking slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind reeling. "Why didn't you tell me?"
His eyes flicked to the door, a growl building in his chest. Whoever sent this letter wanted him to know, wanted him to feel this. And after tonight's attack, Logan was certain it wasn't coincidence.
Xander's Room, Moments Later
Xander was startled awake by a sharp knock. He swung his legs out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled to the door. Logan stood there, his expression tense, holding a letter in one hand and a photograph in the other.
"Logan?" Xander frowned. "What's going on?"
"Got something you need to see," Logan said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
Xander shut the door, watching as Logan placed the letter and photograph on the small desk.
"It's from your mom," Logan said, his voice low.
Xander blinked, confused. "From my mom? That's… that's not possible. She's been dead for months. I got all her stuff after Sunnydale. There's no way she wrote something new."
Logan gave him a pointed look. "Read it."
Xander hesitated before sitting down. His hands trembled as he picked up the letter, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. As he read, his breath hitched. By the time he reached the end, tears blurred his vision.
"She… she knew about you," Xander whispered, his voice cracking. "She wanted me to know you. And Laura…" He trailed off, his thumb brushing over the photograph. "She's real?"
Logan's voice was rough. "I don't know, kid. But that girl tonight—she wasn't just some random attacker. Whoever sent this wanted me to know about her. About you."
Xander looked up, his jaw tightening. "So what do we do?"
Logan crossed his arms, his claws sliding out slightly. "We go to Chuck. He'll help us figure out who's behind this."
"And Laura?"
Logan's gaze softened, but his voice remained firm. "We find her. If she's alive, we'll bring her home. And if someone took her…" His claws fully extended with a sharp snikt. "They're gonna pay."
Xander nodded, his resolve hardening. "Then let's do it."
Logan smirked faintly. "That's my boy."
:-:-:-:-:
Xavier's Office, Early Morning
The first rays of sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Xavier's office, casting golden light over the polished wood furniture and neatly stacked books. Logan paced the room, his claws sliding in and out with quiet snikts as he tried to process the events of the night.
Across the desk, Charles Xavier sat calmly, his hands folded in his lap. Xander stood near the door, arms crossed, holding the crumpled letter and photograph as if they might vanish if he let go.
"This doesn't make any sense, Chuck," Logan growled, his voice low and tense. "She moved like me, fought like me. She had the claws—hell, even on her feet. And now this letter? You can't tell me it's a coincidence."
Charles tilted his head slightly, his calm demeanor never wavering. "You believe the girl who attacked you is Laura?"
Logan stopped pacing, his fists clenching. "I don't know. But she's connected to me—and to him." He gestured toward Xander, who straightened under the scrutiny. "That much I do know."
Charles nodded, his gaze shifting to Xander. "And you, Alexander? How are you feeling about all of this?"
Xander hesitated, his grip tightening on the photograph. "I'm trying not to freak out," he admitted. "First I find out Logan's my dad, and now I might have a sister who was kidnapped at birth and turned into some kind of… assassin?"
Logan's claws retracted with a soft snikt. "She's not an assassin, kid. She's… confused. Conditioned, maybe. I saw it in her eyes. She didn't want to fight."
Xander glanced at him. "Then why did she attack us?"
Charles leaned forward slightly. "It's possible she was sent by someone—someone who wanted her to test you both."
"Test us?" Logan growled. "For what?"
"Compatibility," Charles said simply, his tone grave.
Logan frowned. "Compatibility for what?"
Charles hesitated before speaking. "If this girl is indeed Laura, and if what Jessica suspected is true, then it's likely she's been subjected to the same experiments that created you, Logan. But this time, those responsible may have taken a different approach."
Xander's eyes widened. "You mean… they didn't just want to recreate him. They wanted to mix his DNA with someone else's?"
Charles nodded. "Jessica. It would explain why they took Laura but left you behind, Alexander. Perhaps they deemed Laura more viable for their purposes."
Logan slammed his fist onto the desk, the wood groaning under the force. "So she's not just some experiment. She's my daughter. And they've been using her like a damn lab rat."
Charles's voice softened. "If what you're saying is true, Logan, then Laura is as much a victim as you were. She didn't choose this path."
Xander spoke up, his voice shaking slightly. "But how did she find us? If she's been experimented on all this time, how does she even know we exist?"
Charles's gaze turned thoughtful. "That's the question, isn't it? Someone wanted her to find you. Someone orchestrated this. And they're likely watching to see what you'll do next."
Logan gritted his teeth, his claws sliding out again. "Then we find them. And we make sure they never do this to anyone else."
Charles raised a hand, his expression calm but firm. "Logan, I understand your anger, but charging into this blindly won't help Laura—or anyone else. We need more information. I can reach out telepathically, try to locate her mind. But if she's been conditioned, there may be blocks in place."
"Do it," Logan said without hesitation.
Charles nodded, closing his eyes. The room fell silent as he reached out with his mind, his expression tightening with concentration.
After a moment, his eyes snapped open. "She's close. Still in the area. But her mind… it's fragmented, chaotic. There's pain, anger, and confusion. And something else—a barrier. Someone has trained her to resist mental intrusion."
Logan growled. "Weapon X. It's gotta be them."
Charles shook his head. "Perhaps, but we can't be certain yet. Whoever is behind this has gone to great lengths to cover their tracks."
Xander stepped forward, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside him. "If she's close, we can find her. We can bring her back."
Logan looked at Xander, his expression softening. "Kid, she's not gonna trust us right away. If she's been conditioned like this, she's not gonna just stop and listen."
"I don't care," Xander said, his voice firm. "If she's my sister, I'm not letting her stay out there alone. She deserves better than this."
Logan's lips curled into a faint smile. "You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that."
Charles cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "I suggest we proceed carefully. We need to locate her without spooking her—or whoever might be monitoring her movements."
"Fine," Logan said. "But once we find her, we're not letting her go."
Charles nodded. "Agreed. I'll have Hank run a search for any recent activity in the area that might align with her appearance. Until then, both of you should prepare yourselves. This will not be an easy reunion."
Logan smirked grimly. "Nothing ever is."
As they left Xavier's office, Logan clapped a hand on Xander's shoulder.
"You sure you're ready for this?" Logan asked.
Xander looked up at him, determination burning in his eyes. "She's my sister. I have to be."
Logan nodded, his respect for the boy deepening. "Alright, kid. Let's bring her home."