Author: TombCrank the Crafty
Summary: Wolfram and Hart has never really understood what 'normal' actually means. Poor, poor Connor. Crossover with The Addams Family, Harry Potter, Anita Blake, House, Stargate: SG1, Kim Possible, Smallville, The West Wing, X-Men, and Higlander.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Whedon owns AtS; Charles Addams owns "The Addams Family"; JK Rowling owns Harry Potter; LK Hamilton owns Anita Blake; David Shore owns House; MGM owns Stargate; Disney owns Kim Possible; Alfred Gough owns Smallville; Aaron Sorkin owns The West Wing; Stan Lee and Marvel Comics own the X-Men; Russell Mulcahy owns Highlander. Me? I just play here.
Distribution: TTH, Fanfiction dot net
The Addams Family
Wednesday and Pugsley were not very kind older siblings. By his own count, they had poisoned him, electrocuted him, nearly cut off his head (the Guillotine Incident) and an arm (battle-axe), tripped him down a double flight of stairs, pushed him out a third story window, and sent him man-eating snakes, all just within the past year. Connor was very certain that if he hadn't developed supernaturally fast reflexes and a higher resistance to pain, he would have been dead years ago. Unfortunately, Gomez and Morticia Addams thought it was lovely that their three children got along so very well.
His twin, Neville, was much clumsier than he was. Connor wasn't sure why. Gran yelled at him too, a lot more so after Neville received a letter from Hogwarts and he hadn't. Neville was better at magic. He inherited Dad's wand (and boy was Gran mad when he accidentally broke it), but Connor didn't mind all that much. Magic had taken his parents from him; damned if he was going to use it. He didn't need magic to protect himself. He was strong, fast, and fought like a demon. Connor could take care of himself and his twin just fine.
Connor was faintly proud of his appellation. His stepfather had taken five years to become known as Death. In her vampire-slaying heyday (before she started sleeping with monsters), Anita Blake had become the Executioner in two years. He had earned the nickname of the Destroyer within a year of hunting vampires. His mother Donna was pleased that her husband and son got along so well. Then again, she didn't know Ted Forrester was also called Edward (or Death) or that her dutiful and loving son terminated vampires with empty, dead eyes and a vehemence that worried even his unemotional stepfather.
Gregory House was not a nice man. Deep down inside, beneath the sarcastic, misanthropic exterior, he really was a bastard. But he took care of his bastard, Connor Williams, in his own fashion. Granted, he wasn't pleased when the kid's mother, Darlene, kicked the bucket and he had to take in his pretty-boy son, but even he could get behind a kid who could kick Foreman's ass with ease. The kid did have the disturbing tendency of staring at older, brunette women, but even House had to agree that Stacy and Cuddy were pretty damn hot. Like father, like son.
Charlie had died before Connor was born. He had been conceived in the aftermath of their grief; his father had gone to Abydos without knowing he left behind a pregnant wife. Despite that, Connor O'Neill was loved dearly, if haunted by the specter of his elder brother. Jack and Sara had been deeply relieved when he showed no interest in Little League or Boy Scouts, preferring karate and kickboxing. His Uncle Daniel taught him languages, Teal'c showed him martial arts moves, and Auntie Sam interested him in science. Of course, he adored The Simpsons, just like his dad.
For a Possible, Connor had a rotten attitude. Granted, he was only half a Possible (on his mother's side) and used Reilly as a last name, but still. Aunt Colleen had sent Connor to Middleton for a three-week vacation with his cousins. Her son looked less than pleased, but then again, he was bunking with Jim and Tim. Connor had proved his patience in the face of the Tweebs, but when Shego and Drakken had attacked a technology company in California, he had tagged along and promptly kicked ass. Kim was willing to forgive him for the surliness and sarcasm.
Clark's abilities had been accepted with a certain amount of understanding (the ship pointedly reminded them of his origins) but when Connor, their own son, had started in as well, the Kent's were shocked. Clark and Connor raced around the farm, faster than most could see. Clark had brute strength and endurance, but Connor fought naturally with a grace seen only in trained martial arts masters with agility to boot. Both boys were evenly matched. Jonathan and Martha weren't sure what Fate had in mind for their sons, but damned if they didn't teach them to do the right thing.
The West Wing
Connor Bartlett was not like other American teenagers. For one thing, his father was the leader of the free world. It made certain things… difficult. Dating, school, his successes and failures were all in the media. Hiding his extraordinary strength and agility from the entire world, even the Bartlett administration, was worse than the MS. While an awful disease, MS was treatable. Connor wasn't. Generally, the Bartlett's passed off Connor's occasional 'superman' mishaps as the exuberance of youth. When Connor was kidnapped by religious extremists, his dramatic self-rescue (and the bent wrought iron) was a bit hard to explain away.
Weapon X hadn't finished with X-23. Special Project Alpha, codename "Connor", was Logan. A perfect clone. Connor healed slower and didn't have an adamantium exoskeleton, but what he lacked in mutant ability, he more than compensated with skill. Weaponry, tactics, strategy; all of it burned onto his memory. Connor wouldn't be able to adjust well to a civilian life, if he ever managed to get over his "Daddy Issues". He had taken to haunting the mansion at times before disappearing again. Logan understood. Apparently, his "son" had inherited his wanderlust as well as his mutant genes and love for fighting.
Despite the buzzing feeling in the back of his skull, Connor edged closer to the sword-wielding combatants in the dusty antique shop. The fight was a thing of beauty, cut off abruptly when one of the pair stopped and glared at him. Connor didn't blink as the older one cursed in some strange language (Sumerian, his mind supplied) and merely raised an eyebrow as one of the very sharp swords was pointed at his throat within seconds. He didn't know the reason for the animosity, but damned if he didn't want to pick up a sword and fight them himself.
Author's Notes: This was heavily influenced by the 10 x 100 story format. Instead of Dawn, Buffy, or Xander, I felt it would be interesting to think of where Connor might have been placed. Wolfram and Hart isn't noted for their kindness. I think Lilah Morgan might have had a certain amount of sadistic glee putting Connor in some pretty strange families to get back at Angel. After all, what exactly is a 'normal' life?
TombCrank the Crafty