This is an idea I just thought of. Hope you all like it. It is Liev Schreiber as Sabretooth from the Wolverine Origins movie.

Disclaimer: I don't own Victor

Rated: T

1

Victor Creed shut his truck door and walked up to his house. The sun was setting and he trotted up the steps, but stop a foot in front of the door. There was a scent. A scent that hadn't been there earlier when he left that morning. It smelled like. . .a baby? Victor looked down and he raised a brow. There was a small bundle on the doorstep. He crouched and it started moving a little. He was now on all fours and sniffed it then pulled the blanket back and he gaped. A baby looked back at him and cooed. He was dumbfounded. He picked up the bundled and laid it in the crook of his arm. It continued to coo. He sniffed again. Yep, it was his cub. But where did it come from?

There was a note attached to the baby's blanket. He tore it off and it read:

Victor,

I know that you have loved me dearly. I'm sorry that I left you, but once you started killing the rest of that team I couldn't stay with you any longer. I couldn't handled being with you. I didn't tell you that I was pregnant because I was afraid of you and afraid that you would try to kill me and our baby. But as the months went by I realized that I couldn't stay angry with you. That you are who you are and that killing is almost the only thing you know. That you do best. And I realized how much I still loved you. I named the baby Vincent and gave him your last name. I knew Stryker would want to experiment on him after he was born, so I had a friend track you down and here is your son. Vincent is only a few weeks old. He should be with his father more than with me because of me being a scientist for Stryker. I know that you will take good care of our son, Victor.

Love,

A.

He tucked the letter into his front pocket and found a diaper bag filled with a week's worth of baby stuff. He sighed and put it over his shoulder and unlocked the front door. He flicked the light on in the living room and sat down on the couch. He again looked at his son. His cub. Victor never thought he'd ever have another son after what happened with his first, Graydon Creed. But he did with Addy. He loved her then she left him and had his cub. Then she just gave him his cub because she feared that Stryker would experiment on Vincent.

Victor looked at his cub and gently ran his right thumb claw down Vincent's cheek. The little guy grabbed for the clawed finger and held it in his tiny hand and cooed, fascinated by it. Victor gave a small smile and retracted his claws as Vincent let go. The cub looked a lot like Victor. He had the same hair color and same bluish/grey eye color. Vincent started whining all of a sudden and Victor unwrapped him from the blanket and found Vincent to be smaller than the average few week old baby. He set him on his back on the couch and rummaged through the diaper bag that was on the floor and found a diaper. He took the diaper off his son and the smell of urine filled his nostrils. Yep, it needed to be changed. He wrapped the soiled diaper up and set it on the floor. There was now a problem. He couldn't figure out how to put the new one on the cub.

Last time he saw a diaper was a cloth one and that was decades and decades ago. After a few minutes of trying to put it on, Victor smiled in victory and held his son in the crook of his arm while throwing the soiled diaper away in the trash bin that was in the kitchen. No more than five seconds later, Vincent started his whining again and his stomach growled. Victor still smiled and set the cub on the couch while going through the bag.

"Let's see what Momma put in here for you to eat," Victor looked Vincent who was looking at his father. "Better not be any of that formula crap they give cubs these days." Victor found a small cooler and opened it. It was filled with a couple half gallon bottles of breast milk. "No wonder the bag was heavy."

Victor poured some of the breast milk into the cub's bottle, picked up his son, sat on the couch, and fed his cub. Vincent sucked greedily on the bottle and it was empty in two minutes. Victor set the bottle down and burped him. Vincent let out the biggest and loudest burp Victor had ever heard. The bigger feral looked at his son and started laughing. He couldn't believe that came out of this tiny thing. Victor shook his head and heard his own stomach growl. He'd have to put the kid to bed then get something to eat.

Victor got up with his son up against his chest and went into the laundry room. He found a small basket that was big enough for the cub with a few sheets and he formed a makeshift bassinet. He set his cub in it and put the blanket over him and Vincent fell asleep as soon as his head hit the sheet. Victor gently picked up the basket gently and set it in the living room. He then got himself something to eat. After his meal he put the breast milk in the fridge and carried the basket up stairs to his bedroom.

There was whining. Victor sat up and looked around still half asleep and saw his cub was the cause of the whine. Victor got out of bed, picked up his cub, and headed downstairs as Victor tried to calm the boy. Once down there, Victor put Vincent on the couch, double checking he was safe there and got his son a bottle. He picked up his son and laid down on the couch with him in the crook of his arm and fed the boy the bottle. Vincent drank it more slowly this time. Victor tried to stay awake after looking at the clock that was on the stand that was a few feet away from the TV. It read 2:00 am. His eye lids kept drooping and he was soon asleep.

The next morning Victor woke up to his son's fingers running threw a sideburn. But it felt odd. Felt something like something sharp. Victor took his son's small hand and looked at them. Yep, he saw tiny claws on his cub's fingers. Victor then remembered that his father would rip out his claws and pull out his fangs. He shuddered at the memory. He'd have to file the cub's claws like he used to do when he was a child. Just until the cub could retract and extract them on his own. Victor looked at his son and Vincent gave him a big grin that showed off his toothless mouth and cooed. Victor grinned at him and made funny faces at him. That got Vincent giggling.

Victor got up, cub in his arms, and went into the kitchen, and got Vincent a bottle. He looked up at the kitchen clock. 10:00 am. He needed to order some stuff for the cub and fast. Once Vincent was asleep in the makeshift bassinet, Victor pulled out his cell phone and called the company he owned. He arranged for a truck to drop off a crib, a highchair, car seat, stroller, and anything else he could think of. Eventually, the delivery truck arrived and the kid driving it, who was a tall red haired sixteen year old boy, helped Victor with unloading the stuff. About an hour later, Victor had everything set up. He checked the bag and saw there were a few baby clothes in it. He nodded and took the bag with him to his room. He'd have to go out and buy some clothes for the cub. He got up to his room and checked on Vincent. He already put his cub in the crib earlier. Then he put the bag on the changing table that was next to the crib and they were to the right of Victor's bed.

An hour later Victor got himself something to eat and was now getting Vincent his bottle. Then he heard his son crying.

"I hear ya, cub." Victor went to him and fed him while sitting on his bed. Vincent started drinking it quickly. "Slow down and enjoy the milk, cub. It ain't gonna last for ever. Soon you will have to drink that formula crap."

As if Vincent understood Victor, the kid slowed down on drinking the breast milk. Victor smiled at that. Soon Victor had his son in the car seat and was off to town. He lived in a small place in Maine called Otter Creek. It used to be called the Village of Otter Creek years and years ago. Not many people lived there anymore, but there were some people here and there on all the streets and the trailer park. It was a tourist attraction because of the campground called Black Woods and there is a little store called the Otter Creek Market. It has camping supplies for Black Woods and some food, too. They also make pizza, too. Victor lived on a street called Walls st. The market was right next to the street and that is a lifesaver for Victor. He could get some grocery stuff like milk, but he'd have to go into Bar Harbor, which is only a five minute drive to get there, to get stuff like steak, eggs, whatever.

Victor parked his truck on Main street next to the Village Green park and got out. He grabbed his son's infant car seat and headed into the only baby clothing store close by. The second closet one was in Ellsworth. Victor entered and was glad he knew the owner of the store. He somewhat knew her. He and she met a few times in town. It was a nice small store. It was for tourists mostly, but what the hell, right? Victor's kid needed clothes and this was the closest place. Victor was looking at some onesies and the owner of the store walked up to him.

"Victor!" she said and hugged him. They became good friends. She had black curly hair, dark eyes, was tall, thin, and was in her late twenties. "What can I do for you? Who's this little guy?" She pointed to the infant car seat.

"This is Vincent. My son," Victor said. "I didn't even know he existed until last night when I found him on my doorstep with a note from his mother."

"This is the same woman that left you?"

"Yeah, Lily," Victor said. She was, of course, the only person that knew he was a mutant. "She was afraid Stryker would experiment on him and left him at my house. He's only a few weeks old."

"Do you need any help caring for him?"

"No, I just need to get him some clothes and toys and whatever else babies need. I just got him some stuff from one of the companies I own that's close to here."

"Do you need baby formula for him?"

"Yeah, but is there any kind that isn't crappy?"

"Gerber is a very good brand," Lily said.

Victor nodded and Lily helped him with getting some clothes for Vincent.

6 Years Later:

"Vincent!" Victor walked all over the house. "Boy, where are ya?"

Victor looked in every room in the house. The cub did this every time his claws had to be filed which happened three times a week and he could still hide from his father. For some reason he did this every time after dinner. Victor had been filing Vincent's claws since he was an infant and that boy still found a new hiding spot every time. The boy didn't like having his claws filed at all and Victor didn't like doing it to him, but he had to until the boy could retract them on his own. He tried to teach his cub to do it, but the boy refuses to listen. Victor sniffed the air and went into his bedroom. He looked in the closet and then under the bed.

"There ya are," Victor said. "C'mon, Vincent, come out from under there."

Vincent shook his short dark haired head. He was the spitting image of his father. "No. I don' wanna."

"Vincent, come out. Now."

Vincent shook his head and moved further under.

"You are so stubborn, cub," Victor said. "I'll take ya to get an ice cream if you let me file your claws."

Vincent thought for a moment then nodded his head and climbed out from under the bed. Victor sat on his bed with Vincent on his lap and filed his son's claws. After a few minutes Vincent started whining.

"Almost done, cub, then we'll get that ice cream." Victor finished up with Vincent's pinky claw and put the file on his nightstand. "All done."

The six year old nodded and hopped off his father's lap and ran out to the truck. Victor followed and once outside he saw Vincent was buckled in his seat. Victor got into the truck, started it, and they were off. A few minutes later Victor parked the truck in front of the Water Drive Dairy Bar. Vincent hopped out and they went over to the lady behind the window. Vincent called her "Ice Cream Lady". Vincent looked over the different ice cream flavors and saw his favorite.

"Daddy, can I get chocolate ice cream?"

"Yeah," Victor said.

Victor paid for his cub's treat and they headed back home. When they got home Vincent was still working on the ice cream. He had it all over his face and his shirt. That melted quickly, Victor thought. He got out of the truck and carried his son to the bathroom upstairs as Vincent finished his ice cream. He turned the water on the tub and started filling it. Vincent dumped a whole bottle of bath soap into it. Victor stripped his son, turned off the water, and put Vincent in the tub. He grabbed a wash cloth and cleaned his cub's face. Vincent splashed the water all over the place. When Vincent was done with his bath, most of the water was on the floor and soaked in Victor's clothes, making him look like a drowned cat. Victor wrapped his son in a towel and carried Vincent to his room. It was late and the cub needed to go to bed.

Vincent was in a pair of pajamas and was in bed. Victor sat next to him for a while, after changing into a pair of fresh clothes, and tucked him in. Vincent gave his father a grin and showed his fangs.

"Night, Dad," Vincent said. "I love you."

Victor kissed his son's forehead. "Love you too, cub."

His son closed his eyes and Victor left for the door. He flicked the light off and looked at his son before closing the door behind him.

9 Years Later

Vincent was walking home from where the bus dropped him off at the playground across from the market as it did everyday since kindergarden. He finally got up to his house near the end of the dead end street. It was at least half a mile long. His house was somewhat big and only him and his dad lived there. He saw that his dad's truck was there as he got the mail from their dog shaped mailbox (his dad's idea. Vincent would've died if it was cat shaped). Vincent went inside but didn't find him anywhere. He put my old backpack next to the door and went into the kitchen. Victor wasn't there.

"Dad?" Vincent looked over the mail and found my report card. "Dad, your wonderful son who is failing a class is home from school!" Vincent said loudly as he looked over his grades.

No answer.

He sighed and went through the fridge. Then the opened the freezer door and jumped back with a yelp. There was a freakin' frozen deer head looking back at him. Shi. . .crap, I was not expecting that, he thought. His dad doesn't want him to swear until Vincent turned sixteen and that's only a month away. He swears all the time when he is not home and he tries not to when he is home. That reminded him. He told a teacher off today and has a detention tomorrow. They probably called his dad. He closed the freezer and turned to the cabinets. He didn't have any lunch money, so he couldn't get any lunch, he didn't get to eat breakfast because he was running late for the bus, and he was starving.

He finally settled on a bowl of corn flakes and ate it at the island. Where the hell. . .heck is Dad? Did the door to the garage slam? Oh, sh. . .snap, he thought.

"Three. . .two. . .one. . ." he counted down.

"Vincent!"

He looked up. His was walking to him. Here we go. "Dad."

"I got a call from the school again," he said. "Care to explain why that happened?"

"I told a teacher off," Vincent said simply. "Same one that has the class I'm flailing," he blurted.

"What?"

Oops.

"You're failing?"

Vincent nodded.

"Why?"

"I keep on arguing with him about the wars we are learning. He said something about a bad bombing caused by the Germans in War World II and I told him he was wrong. Told him it was the Japanese that did it," he said. "You are the one who told me what was right 'cause you fought in every war except for the Revolutionary. He doesn't like what I turn in, so he fails me for it. I had enough, told him to shove it up his butt, and walked out."

Believe it or not, Vincent is the spitting image of his father, but he is a few inches shorter than him, he acts like him, has the same frame as him, but Vincent's muscles are smaller. Victor sat down next to his son and looked at his report card. History was the only class Vincent was failing. Then Victor smiled.

"You told off Mr. Prick did ya now?" he asked. He doesn't like the teacher at all. Teacher's name was Mr. Nick. Victor calls him Mr. Prick.

Vincent nodded. "Yep, I did. He wanted to talk with me about the paper I wrote about World War II. Y'know, the one about where I had to ask an old person that about what they did in it."

"Yeah, I remember you bringing that home and doing it with you. What about it?"

"He said that the answer was, like, wrong. That you and Uncle Logan, which I told him my grandpa and his brother, rescuing a couple dozen of people from a big camp was absurd," Vincent said. "I told him that it was true, he said that if it were true than he would like to speak with my grandpa. I told him he's dead and then I lost my temper, told him off and left."

Victor nodded. "We will have to go up to the school tomorrow."

"I have a detention tomorrow," Vincent said, eating his now soggy cereal.

"Did you have lunch today, cub?"

"No, I didn't have any money."

"I gave you some this morning when you were runnin' late. What happened to it?"

Vincent looked down at his bowl.

"It got taken away again didn't it?"

Vincent nodded. "You tell me I can't start no fights at school. I'd be startin' one if I tried to fight back. I may have some muscles like yours and they are small, Dad, but that don't mean I'm as strong as ya. Those guys ain't worth getting into a fight with. I don't need to get into more trouble than I'm already in."

"Cub, you can't go with out puttin' somethin' in your stomach all day," Victor said. "It ain't good for ya."

"I know, Dad," Vincent growled.

"I'm just worried 'bout ya, cub," Victor said. "I wouldn't be worried as much as I am if you had a healin' factor. You ain't got your other mutations yet. All ya have is the claws and fangs."

"That reminds me," Vincent said, looking at his claws. "I need to file 'em again. They ain't stayin' retracted. They popped out in the middle of the hallway on my way to last block. Lucky no one saw. Why ain't they retractin'?"

"It's probably 'cause your other mutations are showin' up," Victor said.

"What are the other mutations?"

"Heightened senses, cat agility, and strength. I got them all when I got my feral mutations," Victor said. "I always had the claws."

"They make our hands look weird," Vincent said.

Victor shrugged. "Nothin' you can do about it."

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