"Where're we goin'?" Spike hung back as Oz led him through the narrowing downtown Seattle streets - past the red posts of the Chinatown pagodas in the direction of the Sound. Didn't have to remember everything to know that - he could hear the water lapping, sound of boats - feel the cold wind off the water blasting between the buildings as they walked down, down from the hill.

He wrapped his duster more tightly around himself. *God. Always cold now. Always so fuckin' cold.*

"A place I know."

"Demon place?"

"No. Human." Oz glanced back at him, held out a hand.

Spike took it with a scowl - only because it was so warm. That's all. The heat coming from the werewolf's body burned in him and soon he was walking close enough to feel it pouring off of Oz with every heartbeat. "Why?"

"I want to test that the chip is gone."

Spike stopped - let go of his hand and took a step back. With every memory that disappeared, the memories of chip-induced agony grew. He didn't like where this was headed. Dug for a cigarette. Lit up, face turned from the wind - from Oz. "It's gone, mate."

"How do you know?"

"There was that old lady, wasn't there? Hurt her sure enough." Spike drew the smoke deep into his lungs, remembered the first time he had a cigarette. There'd been no pleasure in it then - only wracking coughs and the taste of stale grass and smoke on his tongue.

It still tasted of stale grass, smoke and old tea. But now he liked the taste. Vampire with a taste for burning things - might be a good time to stop casting suicidal vampire stones at the poof and his convertible.

"You're still drinking blood from the hospital." Oz hadn't moved - gave nothing away.

"Yeah. So what? Easy, innit?" Spike blew smoke into the air and turned, cigarette held with casual grace that hid him behind a screen of blue-silver smoke. "Don't have to chase it down. Don't have to leave the cozy flat for a little nip."

He wished Oz wouldn't look at him like that - nod like he understood every thought in Spike's head.

"What?"

Oz shrugged. "It's not natural."

"A lot of things aren't natural, mate."

"It's not natural for William the Bloody to be afraid."

Spike dropped his cigarette and scowled, patting himself down for another. "I'm not sodding afraid, wolf."

"The Spike I knew in high school wouldn't be living off of bagged blood."

"What's it to you what I live off of? Since when's a Scooby encouraging a big bad vamp to go back on tap?" Spike clicked his lighter on with shaking hands and lit up. "Maybe I'm sticking to the bagged so you won't toss me out of the sweet setup I've got at your flat."

"Are you?" Oz cocked his head, waited for Spike to answer with too much bloody patience.

"Well, no," Spike finally admitted.

"Then why?"

"Haven't felt like it," Spike said and that was true. The worry, the fear every gap in his memory created left him with sod-all enthusiasm for a little mayhem. What was the point if he wasn't going to remember it after?

Oz was silent as he thought before answering. "Actually that disturbs me a lot more."

Spike's smile in return was weak. "Yeah, well you're not the only one mate."

"Think it's related to the memory thing?"

"Could be."

They started walking again, shoulder to shoulder - and when Oz slipped his arm around Spike's waist, Spike glanced at him but didn't pull away from the touch.

And when Spike pushed into the warmth and contact, Oz didn't comment.

"You know, when I left Sunnydale the last time - I felt pretty much as alone as I ever have. You know?" Oz looked up at Spike - his fingers fanned over the worn leather of Spike's coat, feeling the bunch and shift of muscle beneath. "Everything new. No past, no home - and one big empty future waiting to be filled."

"There a point to this story?" Spike snorted, flicking his cigarette away half smoked again - fidgeting.

"No," Oz said.

*Sodding little liar.*

"M' not lonely." Spike gave Oz a sharp look - warning look. "Been on my own before this."

"Of course not."

"Best not be takin' the piss with me, Wolf."

Oz shrugged, scent of outdoor air, musk, and incense. "Would I do that?"

"Bloody right you would."

Oz grinned - quick flash of small white teeth. "Maybe. But not with that. I don't joke around about that kind of lonely."

"I'm not."

"Right."

"Just so we've got that clear."

"Of course."

Spike grit his teeth, wishing he hadn't tossed away his cigarette - it gave him something to not think about. "Where're we going again?"

"Human bar." Oz gestured up ahead where a boisterous group was tumbling out the front entrance of a collegiate dive. "Looking for a fight."

"Yeah, and how d'you intend to find one?"

"The fun way," Oz said, and kissed him, slamming Spike up against the wall with enough force to drive the air from his lungs and make Spike glad he'd dropped that cigarette because it freed up both hands for handfuls of hot wolfling flesh and that spark deep in his libido was one he'd been ignoring too - a flare of life in what'd seemed dead and gray for as long as he could - bloody hell - remember.

"Could've done this back at the flat, mate." Spike curled his fingers in Oz's hair, yanked his head back to lick up his throat till his ears were filled with the thud and rush of pulse and blood - little whimpers from the wolf and -

"Fuckin' abnormal pieces of shit!"

"Doing it at the apartment," Oz panted against his ear, one leg between Spike's, "wouldn't have got you a fight."

Spike lifted his head slowly, felt the ridges press up under his skin - bone shift, eyes sharpen - growled low. "Wanna repeat that?"

"Aw Jesus, that one's butt-ugly!"

Oz stepped back to look up at them - way up.

"Little one's mine."

Spike shoved away from the wall. "That'll do." He caught the first's head between his hands - twisted quick and sharp and let him go, felt the demon wake within, recognize the fun to be had. "And the little one's mine."

Running - Oz panting half way into wolf form, Spike laughing. Low, gleeful, triumphant - drunk on blood and bruises as he raced away from the scene of the crime. Wanted to roar into the night for the first time since lost the bloody Gem.

Knew he was gonna hold this night, this memory with teeth and claws, not let go. But he also knew if he lost this one, Oz'd be there to make another just like it and that kept him going.

They leapt cars, planters, even the Pike Place Market brass pig in their flight, crashing into the stairs that lead down to Alaskan Way and the waterfront, tripping over each other down the first flight before fetching up against the window overlooking the Sound, all hard flesh, hard breath, sharp teeth - too much fur when he wanted flesh.

"Change back change back change back." Low growl, cadence of a heartbeat - hands tore at the clothing Oz had left on his half changed form.

"Spiiiiike!" Deeper growl from Oz morphed into a human groan as he got his leg around Spike's hips, thrust back against him in the rags of his jeans - rough to rough just like their kiss all clash of teeth and hot and tongue.

Kiss like blood, kiss like fighting and that made Spike harder because his knuckles still throbbed, and he could still taste beery blood down the back of his throat like stolen wine. "Want you now."

Oz shivered up against him, breeze off the water ruffling his hair through the enormous open window of the great stair tower, got his elbows hooked over the ledge and ground against Spike. "Get them off me." He threw his head back to the night, throat arched under the moonlight.

*God. Beautiful. Fuckin' beautiful!* Denim shredded under Spike's fingers, his belt smacking one pale inner thigh, leaving a line of red and making Oz cry out as Spike ripped it open, tore open his fly.

He growled, following a splatter of half dried blood up the side of Oz's neck, traced it to the corner of pale lips strong teeth that'd clamped down bloodlessly on drunken limbs, dropped heavy bodies to the ground - snarling like he was snarling into Spike's mouth and humping restlessly against hard-cold flesh. "So hot, hot fuckin' warm." Spike groaned into salt-smoke flavored skin, biting and tasting the salt and sea of the Sound on his tongue. "So -" Oz lifted himself - came down on Spike's cock smooth and slick as any woman - tight and Spike choked on his words.

"Wanted - wanted this." Oz panted up to the sky, biceps flexing on cold concrete, shivering goose flesh with every gust of briny wind - shivers Spike could feel around his cock, made him groan. "Hoped -"

Spike flexed his fingers on bony hips - head arched back to slide into clutching heat, heard himself panting. Other firsts blurred, were lost - made this the first all over but oh yeah. His body remembered just fine, the singing of the blood, the slip thrust of another body writhing around him.

Needed.

Oz's face was lifted to the moon, mouth open - drinking it down. Chanting. Touch me and please and oh god harder and Spike! lit bright white and pale as any vampire in the moonlight when he came shuddering hard down around Spike with a gasp - grimace - whine.

Then Spike lifted him up - off - more, deeper, and harder, pinned him face up against the wall and slammed in - took. Grasped the edge of the concrete window and pounded months and months of repressed fury into willing flesh with a roar to the moon, wolf blood and orgasm singing through dead flesh as he clamped down on Oz's neck and claimed.

Tasted like smoke and moonlight - wildwoods and hunt and loneliness satisfied and -

Spike grunted - fell stumbling back when Oz jabbed an elbow into his stomach then turned, one hand clamped over the bleeding bite on his neck. "Leave - leave some for me Spike, okay?" He crouched over Spike, shivering and burrowing into his coat as if Spike had body heat to share. He wished he did. Chuckled and licked at the edges not to waste a drop.

"God."

"Spike," Oz answered playfully, and Spike looked at him, startled. Really looked. Rumpled, pale, covered in goose bumps with a vampire bite on his neck - Oz looked happy. And incredibly satisfied with himself.

"You planned all of that?"

Oz shrugged. "The slick didn't put itself in there. And I'm an optimist." He shivered again, and Spike wriggled himself out of his coat, wrapped it around Oz's shoulders and scooted them against a wall out of the wind.

"Why?"

"You have to accept the nature of the beast."

"You're not a beast, wolfling."

Oz chuckled. "We're all beasts. Some of us are smarter beasts than others."

"Yeah." Spike looked him over from shivering top to trembling toe, and wrapped him in his duster. "You're a smart beast yourself, pet. Now why would you take me out human hunting hmm?"

"Remember what I said about loneliness?"

"Yeah."

Spike watched in confusion as Oz pressed his hands against Spike's knees - leaned over them to part Spike's lips with his tongue, push inside to taste the blood and smoke and cold night air. "Thank you."