Summary: Switching gears a bit here! Instead of this chapter being about Logan's claws, per say, it's more about Logan and Victor's brotherly relationship. Namely, the fact that they tear each other apart but then get super protective whenever anybody else hurts the other (as observed in the beginning war scenes in "X-Men Origins: Wolverine"). In this chapter Logan and Victor are adults, and it takes place somewhere a while after X3, I would guess, except that it's Liev Schreiber's Victor. So not the blond one, lol.

Rated T for gore and cursing.

It was past midnight, and the night was a bluish, violet-tinted ivory black, a sliver of chrome moon visible through the dark shreds of clouds that covered the sky like a smoky black blanket that some beast had ripped to tatters with its claws.

Crouched catlike upwind, not only could Victor hear the motorcycle thundering up the road, but he could smell the exhaust and he could smell Jimmy—the scent of his blood was sharp and wild, and he always smelled of cheap cigars and buried guilt. He could never really change who he was, no matter if he changed his name to Logan and went and lost his fuckin' memories.

He would always be an animal. He would always be Jimmy. He would always be Victor's little brother.

Tensile, Victor waited. If he'd had a tail, it would have been twitching. But he didn't have a tail; all he had were claws and fangs, so his anticipation manifested instead in his claws unsheathing to their full three-inch length, and him running his tongue across his pointed teeth and grinning in the dark.

The motorcycle rounded the corner speeding easily over a hundred miles per hour, and Victor launched himself and knocked his amnesiac little brother right off the bike, sending them both tumbling down a ravine and into the waiting sentinels of trees.

When their tumbling came to a stop, Logan was on top, pinning the other feral down, foot-long claws pierced through Victor's shoulders.

"Happy birthday, runt," Victor smirked at him, revealing a glint of fangs in the moonlight, before he brought his feet up, and with the claws on his toes piercing through his shoes, gouged and clawed at Logan's stomach.

The X-Man gave a pained roar and Victor pushed the him off, enough power in his legs to send Logan flying into a tree and crashing to the ground.

Victor advanced on his brother, still smirking coldly. "Miss me?" he rumbled.

"Ya know," Logan said, standing up and glaring at him, lips pulled in a feral sneer of his own, "For someone who once told their little brother that ya knew him better than he knew himself, you really don't know that much about me if ya think I appreciate these presents of yours."

Pausing in surprise, Victor tilted his head to the side slightly as he regarded his little brother, saying coolly, "Ya got yer memories back, then?"

"Most of 'em," Logan answered, holding his older brother's gaze unflinchingly.

For once in a long time, Victor's smile actually appeared pleased. Or at least, that's what Logan thought, before Victor once again tackled him.

"Then you should appreciate these birthday presents," Victor hissed at him, as they tussled through the silver moonlit grass that was progressively turning black with their blood, claws stabbing and ripping through each other. "'Cause I'm fightin' ya instead of killin' people."

"Yer fucked up," Logan ground out, throwing his brother off him and into the forest, rushing after him, only to be pounced on as soon as he entered the shadows.

There was blood and dirt and bitter words in both of their mouths.

"Ya hated me for goin' and gettin' my memories wiped, but it's yer own damn fault!" Logan snarled, taking hold of Victor and tossing him at a tree, which the feral clung to with his claws, scampering up into the branches. "Yer the one that said brothers look out for each other, and then ya up and hightailed it outta the Island like a coward, an' Stryker gave me two bullets in the brain and wiped my memories. Maybe if you'd been there, I wouldn' 'ave forgotten ya, and Styker wouldn'a survived!"

The huge dark shape crashed down on him from the tree branches, clawing at his face and snarling.

"Oh yeah? Ya feel betrayed? Well now ya know how I felt when ya walked away from me in Africa! Centuries it'd been the two of us against the world together, and you up and left!"

Impaling both of Victor's hands through with his claws, Logan then forced his arms up, so that Victor's arms were crossed over his chest and Logan's adamantium claws were at Victor's throat.

"Now listen to me, bub," Logan snarled furiously, drops of his saliva landing on Victor's face. "I didn't leave you—I left Stryker's team. I did ask ya to come with me! It's yer own stupid pride and bestial bloodlust that separated us!"

Roaring wordlessly Victor slid his hands further down his brother's claws so that he could dig his own into Logan's hand as he forced the adamantium razors away from himself, before throwing himself backwards to get his hands off of them, catching himself on his back and kicking his legs to propel himself back to his feet.

For a few moments the two ferals just circled each other through the trees, growling and snarling like wild dogs, the noises that rumbled from their throats not sounding even remotely human.

Just as they rushed towards each other again, there was a beam of light in their eyes—instead of reflecting red, the way humans' eyes do, their retinas reflected an animalistic yellow—and two gunshots rang out, rending the night like scissors through tissue paper.

Victor heard the bullets enter his brother's body, heard the startled gasp that left his brothers lips, and though the white light was still shining blinding in his vision, the edges of his sight crept over with a bloody crimson.

"Nobody hurts the runt but me," he said, gnashing his teeth as he bounded on all fours into the light. His sight useless, he clenched his blue eyes closed and relied on his hearing and sense of smell to pinpoint the attacker; it wasn't hard—whoever it was, their breath was loud and startled and they stank heavily of fear.

Roaring as he lunged, he felt his claws meet flesh, felt their warm blood on his hands and splattering his skin, heard the life leave their lungs as he tore out their throat.

Bang!

A bullet pierced through his shoulder.

Bang!

Another bullet shot through his leg.

Turning towards the attacker, he found Jimmy already there, claws sticking out of the man's chest.

"And nobody hurts you but me," he grunted, as he locked his hazel eyes with Victor's blue ones and dropped the dead man to the ground.

A moment later and they were surrounded by government troops, all aiming various guns at the ferals, shouting for them to surrender and put their hands up, because they were going to be taken in for something or other.

"Back to back!" Logan called.

Victor complied immediately, striking a defensive position and roaring so ferociously Logan could actually hear the men around them quake in their military boots. And in that roar he could hear the malicious grin on his brother's face.

Logan wasn't grinning. But as he and Victor fought in perfect tandem, taking out the enemies in mere minutes, he couldn't help but feel complete in a way he hadn't for a long time, the empty space at his back now filled with the man he now once again knew to be his brother.

As they stood panting over the dead bodies surrounding them, veins thrumming with the rushes of adrenalin, Logan pointed out, "Ya know, compared to the injuries we deal out to each other, these men hardly even nicked us with those bullets."

"So?" Victor asked, as he pilfered the jacket of one of the dead man, pulling his hand out of a pocket with a set of car keys held between his claws that were dripping black and wet in the moonlight.

"So why did you get so upset when I got shot?" Logan asked, following his brother up the ravine and onto the road, where they found the military cars parked.

"Same reason you got so upset when they shot me. 'Cause we're brothers, and brothers look out fer each other," Victor answered simply. He then looked down with a frown and examined the keys, muttering to himself, "No Unlock Button? What kinda military gear is this, that ya hafta try a stupid key in every fuckin' car door?!"

"But you hurt me far more than they did, or even could," Logan persisted. "They can't really hurt us."

"So?!" Victor demanded, as he began walking down the line of cars, trying the key in every door and growling to himself in frustration.

"So if we beat the crap out of each other, why does it matter so much if we get nicked with a bullet?" Logan asked, and Victor was reminded of Jimmy when he was a teenager, and how he would always ask him stupid questions like that.

"'Cause we're brothers!" Victor told him, before muttering, "Finally!" when the door to a car clicked unlocked, and he opened it and swung into the driver's seat.

His door slammed. Another door slammed, and he glanced over to see Logan sitting in the shotgun seat, regarding him thoughtfully.

"What are ya doin'?" Victor asked irritably. "Go get yer own car! Or go find yer fuckin' motorcycle!"

"Nah, we're stickin' together this time," Logan said determinedly, giving his brother a wry grin. The moon outside the car window cast him as a silhouette, turning his crazy, sticking-up hair into silver gossamers at the edges. "We're brothers, after all."

"Yer not coming with me," Victor snarled, the moonlight on his face catching on the cold blue of his eyes. "Ya won't like the livin' situation I'm in."

"Which is why yer not gonna drive back to wherever yer stayin', an' instead yer gonna drive back to the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," Logan said calmly.

"Oh no I ain't!"

"Oh yes you are!"

Snarling, Victor launched himself at his brother, and the two of the crashed out the broken window, glass shards in their spines and claws slashing at each other's eyes.

Yeah... messed-yp brotherly relationship, much? Victor can be such a hypocrite.