Fiction- EBoN01- Family Outing

Fiction Title: Every Bit Of Nothing

Chapter Title: Family Outing

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or to X-men. They belong respectively to Whedon and to Stan Lee & Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Action, Humor

Pairing: Canon pairings for now, eventual Buffy/ Logan pairing.

Summary: The change from childhood to adulthood is a wondrously magical time, unless of course, your name just happens to be Buffy Summers.

Spoilers/ Time line: For Buffy, Season 3, Episode “Helpless”. For X-men, pre-movies with some ideas taken from the comics and the cartoon.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This fiction is a response to the “It's All In The Genes” Challenge from Twisting the Hellmouth. Challenge is as follows-

Buffy is Scott's younger sister (only by a few years or so).

Buffy grew up at Xavier's School for the Gifted with Scott with mutant powers of her own (She can have a power like Scott's, being able to control it, or she can have another. I want her to have strength, speed, etc..., but try to give her another type of ability) after her parents and other brother died from the plane crash.

Through her days in the school, Buffy made quite a name for herself. Having fun, pulling pranks; everyone liked her and wanted to be her friend. Her, Scott, and Jean always hung out together.

This takes place in the first movie. How will Buffy's place in the X-Men change things? What will Logan think when he meets her the day he wakes up in Xavier's school?

AN2: I have made a few modifications along the way to make the story flow better in my opinion and they will be explained within the story itself.

Every Bit Of Nothing

Chapter One

Family Outing

“Hey Slim, you found your shoes yet?”

The boy in question glanced up from the pile of his belongings that he had been methodically sweeping out of his closet. He shook his head in the negative, feeling guilty. But his father, leaning in the door to his room, his arms crossed, just chuckled.

“Well, it's no wonder, if that's how you keep your room clean,” he pointed out equanimically. The boy found himself grinning. Somehow, his Dad just got things about him. Whereas his mother on the other hand... He cringed slightly as he heard her voice call out.

“Alex! Stop teasing your sister or we'll drop you off at Grannies and go up without you!”

The whining sound of their younger sister cut off abruptly and both males turned back to the immediate problem at hand.

“Did you check under your bed?” his father asked. Frowning, the boy turned immediately and lifted up the silly old dustcover that his mother insisted upon. There was nearly a like amount of toys, clothes and books pushed under the bed as there had been in the closet. But, also with that, he found with a sigh of relief, were his tennis shoes that he had been searching for, halfheartedly the last week or so, but more in earnest today. He had to have shoes if he wanted to go on the family outing.

And with them living in the predominantly cold state of Alaska, days like these, sunny and clear were few and far between. Even in the summer months. The boy pulled on his shoes, while his father straightened up.

“You know, your mother is going to have a fit about your room,” he informed his son cheekily.

“Yes sir,” the boy sighed. He knew he had that coming.

“Well, how about we get some crates out of the garage when we get home and make a system,” his father suggested. “Something a little more organized.”

The boy nodded and hopped up to stand at his full height, that, at twelve years old was quite impressive. He'd had a growth spurt, which his mother had wisely foreseen and on their last foray to the city, had bought his clothing a little large. He was already shoulder height to his father and quickly gaining on his mother's more moderate height. She had taken to ruffling his hair when he stood by her, as she was murmuring that he'd be as tall and straight and just as much a beanpole as his father when he grew up.

Wrapping a companionable arm about his son's shoulder, the two males headed out to the living room where the rest of the family had gathered. The boy grinned at his siblings, both younger, sitting petulantly on the couch, at opposite ends. His tiny sister, Bethie, of the golden hair and gap toothed grin, at four years old, knew exactly how to get the attention that she liked. And his brother Alex, at eight, probably hadn't done much more than looked at her, to get her whining for their mother's attention. It was a method Bethie knew to employ only behind her parent's back, which got the boys in trouble more often than not. Speaking of her, his mom was pulling on a light coat. She turned to his father.

“Got everything?” she asked easily, flipping her hair out from where the coat had caught it. His father patted his own coat pockets and then retrieved the keys to the lumbering family vehicle that was necessary to transport all of them plus a good amount of groceries and purchases at the same time. Opening their front door, his father led the procession out to the driveway, while his mother, picking Bethie up from the couch, brought up the rear.

“Say goodbye house,” she instructed and Bethie, with a giggle and a slight lisp at this predictable routine, repeated their mother's words.

“Goo-bye houth!”

The boy grinned as Alec rolled his eyes. It was the same every time.

*****

“Hey, come on up here Slim,” his father called from the cockpit of the plane that he was piloting. The boy hurriedly undid his lap belt, ignoring the envy on his brother's face. Bethie had been whining about her ears hurting and their mother had emerged from her seat as co-pilot to get her some juice. Slim knew that the swallowing would help your ears pop. Much better for Bethie than chewing gum, as the rest of them were doing. Bethie had a habit of chewing gum for a few bites before swallowing it and asking for more candy.

The boy slid into his mother's seat and got himself buckled in before his father could remind him. He had begun learning about all the instruments and technical bits of flying that he could absorb. Not only from his parents, who both loved to fly, but also from technical manuals, books from the library and from other pilots in Anchorage. As usual, excitement thrummed through him. He knew, just knew, that if he learned enough this summer, his father would make good on his promise to take him up in the much smaller Cessna two seater and even let him have a go at navigating the smaller aircraft. It was a goal he strove for and yearned for desperately.

“Okay, me boy-o,” his father chortled as Slim squirmed in his seat with the excitement. “You remember what we learned last time?”

“Yes sir,” he nodded vigorously, ignoring the questioning voice of his brother in the back.

“Okay, let's go over the list then,” his father nodded. The boy nodded as well and with hovering hands that didn't touch and disturb, began listing off all the purposes of the buttons, levers, knobs on the instrument panel. His father listened intently, not having to correct him once and then beamed. “Good job kiddo.” He took in a breath as he adjusted a few minor things. “Now, let's talk about the pitch and yaw-!”

“Dad!” the boy's voice interrupted, slightly awed, mostly puzzled, gesturing out the cockpit window at the strange aircraft that appeared suddenly several hundred yards from their own. “What is that?” he demanded, trying to move closer, even though he was harnessed in. He had to settle for peering with his eyes, the strange ship, or at least that's what he thought it was, not quite on the horizon, but hovering.

“I don't know,” his father returned quietly and there was something in his voice that the boy responded to. There were a ton of questions that had been hovering on the tip of his tongue, but they were stilled by the undercurrent of worry that he sensed in his father's voice. Then his father turned his head to address his wife. “Kath? Did anyone say anything about any other planes up today? Any military...?” He broke off and muttered to himself. “Almost looks military. Are they testing...?”

“No one said anything to me,” his mother replied from where she was sitting by Bethie. Her voice was very still and doubtful.

Suddenly there was crackling on the radio and noises such as none of them had heard before. And it wasn't static distorting the words or noises. It was just... alien.

“Da-ad!” Alex called from the back, squirming in his seat. “I wanna see.”

“Stay in your seat Alex,” his father warned, a little more brusquely than he normally spoke. He seemed to realize this himself. He smoothed his tone out and continued. “I told you, you and Sunshine will get your turns when you're a little older.”

“But I wanna see now!” Alex pouted.

“Alexander, hush!” their mother admonished. The boy sulked in his seat, his arms crossed, his face stormy. Their mother began to fidget a little, her hands, from what the boy could see, fiddling with her harness buckle. Before she could do much, there was a flash across the cockpit windows and now clearer sounds coming from the airplane's radio system.

The family was silent as harsh instructions came over the radio, to inform them that the pilot of their vessel needed to land at Anchorage's Elmendorf Air Force Base. The boy knew that was strange, as they usually took off from the Lake Hood air strip. Their parents rented a cargo hold to store their planes in on the off season. Taking in a slightly shuddering breath, the boy's father calmly replied to the harsh voice and then radioed in to Elmendorf for the landing co-ordinates. Seemingly satisfied that their instructions were being followed, the air force jets that had come up from behind, unnoticed until then and had been mirroring their flight, moved out of the way for the wide turn that was necessary.

But whatever calm that was pervading the cabin was suddenly lost when the alien looking ship darted forward, much faster than should have been possible, looking, it seemed, to intercept their much larger, bulkier plane. The dual set of air force jets responded instantly, though there was no firing as of yet. The boy watched, breathless as the alien craft performed a series of maneuvers that rolled it over and then under the jet that was streaming to intercept it and streaked forward.

The boy's father swore loudly as the alien craft looked to be on a collision course with them. Even as he held the controls to try and bank out of the way, he was calling back to his wife, “Kath! Get the kids in the chutes! Now!”

“No!” It wasn't defiance that brought the words to her lips, but more a denial that this possibility could be laid out before them. Since she was moving out of her seat already, grabbing the children's chutes behind her seat. The boy barely realized that his father was barking at him to get his emergency parachute strapped on. After just a seconds pause, his father's earliest training, those of the necessary safety precautions to take when flying in any kind of craft, were kicking in. With shaking hands, he loosed his harness and bolted out of the seat. He met his mother in the aisle, where she was pulling the chutes from the wall of the cabin. She handed the boy his and then the smallest harness. “Get yours on and then help your sister,” she instructed fiercely, already turning with another parachute in her hands for Alex. The boy was trembling, his lower lip quivering now from a different fear.

The boy did up the safety harness as quickly as he could, ignoring the awkwardness of his gear and turned to scoop up the chute for his sister. Normally she would be strapped to one of their parents in a case like this, but his mother had insisted that Bethie have a chute too, in case something went wrong with one of theirs.

But as difficult as it was to get her into a contraption like her high chair, it was near impossible to get her into the chute harness. “Bethie, come on,” he grunted, yanking at her shoulder and then ducking back as she drummed her heels on the floor and swung her tiny fists.

“No! No!” she screamed. “I want Momma! Momma!”

Their mother didn't even turn as she snapped. “Elizabeth! Do as you're told!” The girl cringed at the harshness in the woman's normally calm tones. But then she was back to squirming and wiggling away as she tried to crawl to her mother.

“Oh Jesus!” he heard his father yell suddenly. “Brace yourselves!”

The boy gasped and held his breath as the plane tilted wildly and he and his sister slid across the floor. His shoulder bore the brunt of banging into one of the seats.

“These bastards mean business Kath,” he called back. “Get yourself ready, we might have to jump. That was close. What the hell are they playing at?” he demanded angrily. The boy heard his father speaking into his comms gear, informing the enemy vessel bearing down on them, evading the air force jets, to stand down, that there were children aboard the vessel. It made no difference as the alien craft darted around them, and then...

“They blew the engine!”

The jolt of the explosion had already told them everything they needed to know, as the boy's father frantically tried to respond to the attack. He had been a pilot in the war, he had some tricks up his sleeve, but few for a craft as large as he was piloting that day and with his children no longer safely strapped down.

“Kath, get them out of here! Now! National Guard Rescue is on the way!”

“Oh God! Jesus watch over my babies!” the boy's mother was murmuring over and over again as she quickly and deftly strapped Bethie into her harness, despite the girls screaming protests.

Once accomplished, she shoved the girl into her eldest son's arms and herded the children to the back of the cabin, to the emergency exit. The plane pitched and rolled slightly under their feet as their father fought to keep the plane level. It was a hard battle, trying to fly with only one engine working, some enemy intent on staying as close as possible to them and the USAF darting in while trying to protect the people they served.

At long last, the alien craft fired upon the jets and the real dog battle began.

Unfortunately, whether their orders had changed, or they were weighing the good of the nation over one small group, the entire family watched with a moment's trepidation, for that was all allowed them, as, hemmed in as they were, they could not escape the missile that was heading straight towards them.

Time slowed for the boy, he went deaf, he developed tunnel vision as the projectile, army or of unknown make, there was no time to wonder, bore down on them. Things blurred and came in and out of sensibility as that one moment defined his life.

And miles and many years later, that boy, no longer younger, still just as slim as his mother had predicted, no longer sheltered in naivety by loving parents, woke with a scream on his lips.

Chapter Two- Birthday Dreams