Warning: this story contains suggestions of rape, a good deal of violence, and a lot of plotholes. I only have a few pages so far and not a lot of time to update.

This isn’t a perfect match to the FFA pairing prompt, since it’s definitely more based on the movie of X-Men than the comics. Nonetheless, I had it lying around and thought someone might enjoy it.

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Xander didn’t know how, exactly, he’d ended up in Podunk, Canada. It seemed like he’d been talking to his mom one minute and then she’d screamed, and he’d blacked out. Maybe his dad hit him. Still, that didn’t explain why he’d woken up, distinctly naked, aching, and alone in a crummy motel room in Podunk, Canada.

Canada. It was way too cold for a California boy.

He’d managed to scrounge up a mismatched outfit from what was lying around the room. Some too big jeans. Some way too big boots, but thankfully two pairs of thick, if dirty, socks. A flannel shirt he was drowning in. And a bomber’s jacket that made the shirt look small.

Some Sunnydale instinct told him not to go through the door to the main lobby of the motel, such as it was. Instead, he climbed out the window and started walking in the drizzling snow.

First building was a bar, but it would be warm inside.

Cage-fighting, he thought when he saw the steel monstrosity in the middle of the room. Despicable. Still, that might be my only shot at getting enough money to leave this half-assed attempt at a town.

He watched two broad-shouldered muscle men ascend to the cage and go at it. No holds barred, making it one of the bloodiest, nastiest things Xander had seen in a while. With his experience and reflexes, though, it was like they were moving in slow motion. After a while, the littler guy was conked out. An even shorter guy came up to the lumberjack, jerked his head, and took off his shirt. Very ripped, Xander observed absently. He had few scars, but carried himself like a war veteran.

Some of the men were beginning to bet, almost all of them banking on the big guy. Xander scrounged in his stolen pants’ pockets and came up with ten dollars.

“Ten on the runt,” he said. Everyone stared at him, even the “runt,” who couldn’t possibly have heard the insult over the hecklers and across the room. The lumberjack took advantage of the distraction and landed a solid hit, but it look like it hurt the big guy more than the little one.

The runt continued to let the lumberjack whale on him, until about five minutes in the match. One fist hurtled directly at the big guy’s head, and the big guy dropped like he’d been sucker punched by an anvil. Grudgingly, the wagers were honored.

It was nearly closing time when Xander got sick of watching the cage matches and fully turned back to the bar. He ordered a coke and some food, wolfing both down hungrily.

The runt sat a few stools down.

Why the hell not? “What’s your name?” Xander asked, turning to the man.

“Wolverine,” he replied tersely.

Xander snorted. “Right. If you were a porn star or a pro wrestler, I might believe it. As it is, O highly-successful amateur cage fighter…well, I have trouble with the idea.”

“Logan,” the man ground out. After a long moment’s hesitation, he turned to Xander. “You?”

“Xander. Short for Alexander, so yes, it’s a real name.”

Logan nodded. “Why’d you bet on me?”

“Americans love an underdog,” Xander grinned irrepressibly. Logan didn’t look convinced, so Xander dropped the act and said more seriously, “You walked like a soldier. Like a bona fide, ‘so covert the president has no clue’ ops kind of agent walks. I figured you could take most of the guys in this bar at the same time, and one on one, any of ‘em. Was I right?”

“Yeah. What brings an underage American kid to a bar in a shithole Canadian town like this?”

“What day is it?” Xander asked.

“What? You can’t answer straight?”

“It’s relevant. What’s the date?”

“November 20, 2009.”

Xander sucked in a deep breath. “And I still look like I’m a teenager?”

“Sixteen – seventeen if you’re pushing it.”

“I was born in 1981. The last thing I remember is talking to my mom in ’98. I woke up in a motel room this morning.”

Logan’s nostrils flared.

“As to why I’m here – well, I have no idea.”

“You’d better come with me, kid…doesn’t sound like you’ll have much means to get around.”

Xander raised an eyebrow. “I just met you, I already know for sure you can beat the shit out of me and take my money…why would I go anywhere alone with you?”

“Because I escaped from an American covert ops project a few years back, ended up naked in the Canadian wilderness with no memory of my life. I’m still looking for answers, even sixteen years later, that’s why I’m back in Canada. If you can help me figure out what happened to me, I’ll do my best to keep you safe. And if you can’t – I’ll do what I wish someone had been able to do for me: get you your answers.”

Xander knew, somehow, that Logan was telling the truth. He decided not to question the instinct, and nodded. “Alright. But I’m gonna need some new clothes, stat.”