Light and Darkness

It starts as a migraine, pounding behind his temples and ringing in his ears. Flashes of his past life have been coming more frequently now that he's settled in with you. Every flicker, every slight hint of a memory is laced with pain, like the pounding of a thousand sledgehammers against a sturdy wall. Searing pain, burning behind his eyes as his mind attempts to tear itself apart.

Victor stumbles to his knees, clawing at his head a whining. It's never been this bad, never this strong. He knows pain, it had been a constant companion after all, but this was a pain of a different sort. Decades of emotions one repressed come crashing over him as the memory's finally break through fully.

He remembers his youth. The pain he had been put through as a cub, and the lesson it taught him. Trust no one, fend for yourself, the weak die and the strong rule.

Zebadiah Creed had not been a good man, nor a good father. Victor remembers the pain he brought, the way he tore fang and nails from his own son to try and make him more godly, more pure. It's almost as if he can feel the chains again, the ones meant to keep him away from the family until he was cured.

His mother was no better. A weak willed woman, terrified of her husband and child alike. One who lied to him, claiming to still love him while reeking of fear and disgust.

He remembers his escape. How he tore himself apart to get free, and how he tore them apart in return. Escaping that cursed home with the slaughtered remnants of his blood was just the beginning.

So many years of fighting, survival, pain and bloodshed. All of it floods his brain, endless screams of those he's taken out,the feeling of strength, freedom, and listening to his hunting instincts as he leaves a trail of crimson across the continent.

Lashing out at those around him, the hatred of the humans who scorned him time and time again, who never gave him a chance. The feeling of being hollow inside, lonely.

And yet you had taken him in, taken care of him in his weakest state yet. Memories old and new gnaw at him in a confusing roar, almost as if arguing with each other. Hope versus cynicism. Agony slicing through him as he heaves a desperate breath, senses scrambled.

He doesn't hear you approach him, how can he when his mind is so shattered? So when you touch his shoulder, no doubt attempting to check on him or help in some way, he simply reacts without thought. The instinctual reaction to lash out overwhelms him, a snarl rips itself out of his chest as he lunges and sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder.

The scream you let out brings him out of his head and back to the present. The present where his fangs are brushing against your bones and the taste of iron fills his mouth. Victor freezes for just a moment, horrified at what he's done to you before flinging himself off of where he's pinned you to the floor.

Your sobs cause a pang in his chest, and he watches as a curl in on yourself hand over the wound he just inflicted upon your frail body.

Frail.

His Frail.

He hurt his Frail, his human.

It's his fault you're injured, his fangs that ripped into you, He is the reason you're crying on the floor, the reason for the blood that he can smell and taste. He's ruined this for himself, ruined every bit of kindness you've ever given him in a single moment.

The one human who gave him a chance, who was kind to him without wanting something in return.

He needs to run. To get away from you and this pain in his chest. This drowning feeling of panic and dread that clings to him with claws of its own.

And so the mighty Sabretooth turns tail, and bolts as if the hounds of hell are on his tail.

—---

Driving to the hospital in a haze you remember very little of your arrival. Just the worried nurse who carefully helped you onto a gurney before the world went black around you.

She fills you in when you wake up a day later on how you managed to baffle the poor doctor who stitched you up. Apparently you should've fainted on the drive in due to the blood loss. The running theory is you have a small healing factor, one that's barely noticeable but managed to save your life. So at least you have that going for you.

The hospital keeps you for two days to monitor your condition. The food is torture as always, bland and strangely textured, although your quick to make friends with the people caring for you, happily listening to the gossip they provide about eachother.

By the time they release you you're in desperate need of a shower back home. They tell you not to strain the stitches and to drive slowly and carefully on the way back home. The backroads are still as rough as when you left, and every bump and pothole sends a sharp jolt of pain through you.

At least the drive back gives you time to think back on what happened to cause all of this.

It had been another one of his migraines, they'd been coming more often as the fragmented memories of his past life came back. Never had he been so undone by them though, never had he lashed out at you like this.

The Victor you know may have a tendency to hunt animals down to try and help provide, but had never once turned his claws or fangs on you before. It only makes sense that your touch must have triggered either an instinct to protect himself, or a horrific flashback.

His tendency to flinch away from certain touches, especially in regards to his mutation had not gone unnoticed by you. Something had happened to him before for his body to have such an instinctual reaction to someone checking out his mutation.

The crunch of gravel under the tires brings you back out of your thoughts as you turn into the long driveway back to the cabin. Letting the engine rumble as you come to a stop you eye the tree-line. You can't see Victor, but your hands clench tight around the steering wheel anyhow.

Deep breath in, focus on the twang of pain in the shoulder, and force yourself to move.

The driver's side door creaks as you hop out and you make a mental note to get some grease for it. The anxiety only mounts as you hear nothing from the forest. No bugs, no birds, nothing. And you know that the only time a forest goes silent like this is when a predator is nearby.

Turning away from the tree-line you take a minute to eye the damage to the cabin from the outside. The front door is nearly smashed off, the old hinges barely hanging on. Taking a quick look at the soon to be setting sun you curse and move deeper in to grab the toolbox.

The house hasn't been this silent in months, not since Victor stumbled into your arms terrified and confused. It's unnerving in a way, not knowing where he is after something like this. Silence was the reason you had originally moved out to these woods, and yet now without Vic with you here, it doesn't feel right anymore.

Snagging what you need, you round back to check on any other damage that had been done in your mutant friend's hasty escape. Deep gashes from his claws are easily seen in the floor as you sidestep the now dried pool of your own blood. He had put quite a bit of force into getting away as quickly as possible, and it showed.

Looks like re-doing the floor would be another thing added to the reno list.

Fixing the door is easier said than done, and by the time you have it fixed your shoulder is screaming and the sun is almost fully set.

A rustling from the tree-line causes you to pause, slowly you turn to face the noise only to see two familiar golden eyes peering back at you. It seems that Victor's found his way back to the property, but has decided to keep his distance for a while. That's… vaguely worrying, and you can't help but wonder what's going on in his head.

Usually after a bad episode he'd be more than eager to get into your arms, but with how he lashed out this time it seems that all bets are off. You can feel him watching your every move, and the bushes rustle once more when you hiss as you roll your shoulders to try and ease the tension.

He hasn't moved very far when you look back, and makes no other movements as you gaze back at him.

Checking the door shuts and locks properly again, you turn back to see that he's seemingly moved on. Still, you feel the need to call out to him.

"Vic, if you can still hear me you can come in tonight. I just wanna talk about it bud, you didn't get me too bad. I'm gonna leave the door unlocked tonight ok?

There's no answer back, no eyes peering from the dark. And so hesitantly you shut the door, and trudge back to the bedroom to try and get what bit of sleep you can.

—————–—————–—————–——

Victor sits silently watching the cabin, hiding from both you and the moonlight that filters down from the trees above him. Even after he had injured you, he was still invited back into your home.

He had watched you carefully when you had come back, expecting you to grab the gun and go hunting for him. But you hadn't, no, as frail as you were, you stood strong and unafraid. You had invited him back after he had run off like a coward.

A low snarl builds from his chest, claws digging into the dirt below him as he wrestles with himself internally. His memory howled and screamed that Humans were not to be trusted, that they had always seen him as nothing more than a beast. And yet you had treated him as an equal, not feared him for his differences nor his instincts.

He swears he can still taste the tang of your blood in his mouth, even though he had damn near drowned himself in the nearest river to get it out of his mouth.

Sabretooth was not one who could be tamed. Everyone who knew anything about him knew that. And yet he had been wrapped around your finger like a puny house cat.

But it was nice. Being cared for that is. Gentle touches were not something he had the luxury of having in his life, not until this.

The worst thing about this entire mess, is that deep down he knew he didn't deserve any of this. Humans had wanted a monster, and he had given them one to truly fear. But you, you had not once flinched from him, instead caring for him and his broken mind to the best of your abilities.

The darker side of him roars to get rid of this weakness he feels while near you. Finish the job, end it all and move on. Ravage the property, burn everything to the ground and get his revenge against the X-Men who had started this.

But his heart? As shattered and hidden it was, pleaded for your attention. Craving your touch and affection like the sweetest addiction he had ever indulged. The idea that you could still care for him, wouldn't mind him being a bit more gruff, that you would still be his rattled him.

And so he stays here, stalking the property to protect you and your home from any who would dare challenge its safety.

The voice of his long dead father whispers in the back of his mind, reminding him that he was unloved, and always would be. Usually it was easy to ignore, he would switch focus, hurt down someone for some quick cash to get his emotions out. But now he can't help but agree.

Zebadiah Creed was not a good man, nor a good father. But it seems he was correct that whatever his son touched would turn to ash in his hands. Victor hadn't been a religious man since he was a young cub, but he knows that he's going to hell, if not for his past then for hurting you after all you've done for him.

He thinks back to the recent years, of the mutants he had worked for and against. He's sure they would all find it hilarious, both the X-Idiots and the Brotherhood. Sabretooth falling for a human? What a stupid joke. And yet, here he sits in the middle of a thorn bush, staring at a worn down house in the middle of nowhere with the kindest person he's ever come to know. Someone so frail in comparison to him, so weak. Someone who cared when nobody else had.

He's lived such a long and terrible life, is it so bad to want a speck of hope and a gentle touch? His eyes flick up to the stars above, so far away yet still shining so bright in the darkness. Maybe that's what you are, a star to his darkness. The stars have guided him before when he was a young cub, and you had taken care of him in his weakness as well. A light in the dark, he huffs in amusement. It certainly fits.

He may not deserve you, but you still belong to him just as much as he belongs to you. No one has tamed him of course, not even you, but to gain his trust is something few have ever done. And you have gone beyond even that.

Silently he eyes the door, heart heavy and aching with the longing to take care of you. Even if he's the one who caused this mess in the first place. Funny how a demon like him could claw his way out of hell, and fall into the gentle arms of an angel like you.