Canadian Whiskey

In the following chapter I mention a year. This year is not definite. I am taking liberties with stating this year, because Marvel wasn't clear on what year it was exactly that events in the 1910's took place. There is no significance to this year, it is just the first one that came to mind. Thanks.

The elevator stopped on the ground floor and several X-Men team members filed out. Scott, Jean and Hank followed Charles down the hallway towards the front door. They could hear muffled voices that became clearer the closer they got.

"Give me the letter, 'Ro. I don't wanna hurt you," Jean gasped at the threat and the two X-Men turned to look at their audience.

"Wolverine," the Professor admonished.

"She has a letter and won't hand it over," he growled, still looking at Ororo.

"What are we, twelve," Scott asked. Logan looked at the other man and snarled.

"It's about her," he said, the anguish evident in his voice.

"We don't know that. Besides, it's addressed to the Professor," Ororo said. She walked over to him and placed the envelope in his out stretched hand.

"I know you don't approve of any relationship between us, 'Ro,"

"Not now, Logan," Charles said as he unfolded a piece of paper. He skimmed the lines and, with a worried expression, looked at the others. He turned his hover chair towards his office and said, "Follow me." They all filed in behind him, except for Logan and Hank.

Hank stood looking at Logan, waiting for the other man to acknowledge him. "What ya want, furball?"

"We are friends, correct," Hank asked.

Logan looked at him wondering where this conversation was going to lead. He answered, "No truer have I found."

"All joking aside, Logan. Know that I am here should you need me. You have, but to ask." That said, Hank turned and began to follow the others to the Professor's office. Logan stood shocked. He knew he could count on Hank, there had never been any question, but to hear the man say it out loud was something else entirely. He walked to the door of the office and stood looking in, watching the others. Jean and Scott sat on the couch, their hands clasped. He had once loved the woman with all his heart, still loved her,albeit in a different way, but she had chosen him. He could do nothing, but respect her decision. Ororo stood next to the Professor's desk speaking with him. Beast sat in a chair adjacent to the Summers.

"Please, Logan, come in," Charles said.

He hesitated only a moment, then stepped in side the door, stopping to lean on the frame, arms crossed over his chest. He looked around the room once more, his gaze coming to rest on the Professor. He was the picture of non-chalance outwardly, but inside the beast was screaming to tear into the note Charles had on his desk and anyone who stood in his way be damned. Charles picked the paper up and held it out to him. He walked slowly to the desk, his dread the only thing slowing his steps. He reached a visibly shaking hand out and took the paper from the other man.

Turning it so he could read it. There was only one thing written there. A year.

1912

"What is this some sort of sick joke, Chuck," the X-Man asked the Professor. Charles looked stunned.

"I assure you, Logan, I know not of it's meaning," the other man replied. Anguished in a way the other X-Men have never seen him, Wolverine dropped to his knees. Ororo was the first one to him. She gently took the paper from his fisted hand and read it. Letting it drop to the floor, she wrapped her friend in her arms.

"What is it's meaning, Logan," she asked in her gentle way. He was crying, sobs wracking his body and hers. Everyone stood around them quietly and patiently waiting on their friend to expel his hurt. Scott was stunned at the emotion this normally non-emotional man was displaying. He glanced at Jean, but she was cradling her head in her hands.

"Professor," Scott spoke. Charles looked at him and then at Jean. Raising his hand towards the couple, Jean slumped into unconciousness and into Scott's arms. Her husband carried her to the couch, perching on the edge next to her. "He needs to get control of himself, Professor. We can't help him like this."

"He is right, my friend," Ororo cooed to Logan when his sobs had slowed enough till he didn't sound like he was in pain anymore. "Tell us what we need to know in order to help you." His body stilled and then stiffened in her arms. He slowly raised up till he was sitting on his knees, his fists clenched on his thighs. He moved to stand and everyone moved away to give him room. Standing, he moved to the windows behind Charles desk, facing the world beyond the glass. He waited until everyone was back in their seats before speaking.


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Jubilee screamed as a clawed hand closed around her throat, squeezing enough to cut off her screams. Lifting her evenly with his face, Sabretooth growled his displeasure to find her awake and out of bed, then threw her back onto the mattress. Moving to stand over her, he relished the scent of cloying fear rolling off of her. His body responed it it's usual way and her eyes flew to the crotch of his uniform pants, bulging at what they found there.

His growling turned to amused laughter as he reached for his uniform pants and pushed them down. Jubilee screamed with all the terrifying fear she felt. When the breath had all been removed from her lungs, she couldn't draw another breath and lost consciousness.


********** ********** **********


"It was 1912. I was in love." Wolverine paused. The memories were sometimes still as fresh as if they were just happening and at other times as stale as old beer. "We lived in a cabin in the Canadian Rockies. We had planned a celebration that night and I had gone to town for a few things. When I returned," his voiced cracked, but he continued on as he turned to face the room.

"When I returned I found her face down on the floor. She was in a pool o'her own blood."

"Silverfox," someone said. He didn't notice who it was, didn't really care. He shook his head in agreement.

"She'd been raped, then mutilated and left for dead." He raised his eyes to the Professor's and didn't look away as he continued. "I was young and naive in a lot o'ways then. Didn't have the skills I got now." He sighed heavily, but continued on; anger evident in every word he said, in his stance. "His scent was everywhere. All over the cabin, all over her. My vision went red and I couldn't think. I had only one objective and that was to find him and kill him."

"Sabretooth," Charles whispered.

"I found him at the saloon in town and accused him of her murder. For Sabretooth, that was all the goadin' he needed. We fought,"

Ororo stepped forward, interrupting him and said, "You do not have to continue, my friend. We are all worried about Jubilee. We are all here to help."

"Don't you see, 'Ro? He has always managed to take away everythin' and everyone I loved. Now he has Jubes. I can't let him take her, too." he pleaded with her. "I won't allow any of you to endanger yerselves just to help me. I can take care of this myself." He started to walk out of the office, but was stopped by Jean and Charles screaming.

He turned and took in the scene behind him. Charles was surrounded by Storm and Hank, holding his head in his hands. Jean was being held by Scott, but looking at him. Those eyes were filled with the most unadulterated fear he had ever seen. Jean reached out to him and passed out just as he reached out to her. He looked back at Charles, who was bent over his legs holding his stomach as if he was suffering from cramps in that particular part of his body. Sweat was dripping off of his bald head.

"We have to hurry." He looked up at Wolverine. "Jubilee is as much ours as she is yours. We are coming with you." Wolverine nodded his head, not in defeat, but in acceptance. These people were his friends and, if he was absolutely truthful with himself, they were family. It didn't matter what he said, they would go and he was glad of it.


********** ********** **********


Sabretooth looked down at the girl. She was again unconscious. He pulled his uniform pants back into place, adjusting himself in a less uncomfortable position, and walked back to the table and sat down. His eyes fell to the stain on the floor at his feet, then moved to the table as he caressed it as if it were some lover. The memories of that day so long ago, only added to his hardness and he was looking forward to beating the runt again.

He moved, but the hardness in his pants was chafing. Standing, he pushed the pants down to his ankles and sat back in the chair. Scooting his butt to the edge he leaned back and ran a hand down his hairy stomach to grasp the root of his cock. Squeezing, the pressure caused him to close his eyes at the pleasure. Stroking up and down, he set a slow rhythm pretending it was the girls hand wrapped around him.

He ran his other hand down his stomach, same as the first, and on past his cock to cup his sack. He squeezed them a bit roughly and began to roll them around in his hand. The different frictions caused by both of his hands was almost too much for him. He watched his right hand as it moved up and down on the shaft, from root to the reddened head. He saw a droplet of pre-cum form at the opening and felt his balls tighten closer to his body.

It wouldn't be long now and he speeded his hand up. His breathing deepened and he could hear himself grunting. Finally his body stiffened and with the next upstroke of his hand, his seed spilled from the opening of his cock to land on the floor at his feet; mingling with the stain that had been there for decades. He continued to stare at his body's fluids mixing with that stain and when his body had emptied itself, he laughed.