Spike hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he woke up to the sound of his door opening. He sat up groggily, wondering if Vicious had finally discovered the couch in the hold was actually a torture device, and was sneaking in to sleep in a real bed. It wouldn't be the first time they'd shared a bed, but Spike was a kicker, and a blanket hog, so Vicious usually ended up falling onto the floor and freezing his ass off.

So when they'd all gone to sleep for the night, he'd declined Spike's offer to bunk together, and crashed on the couch. He'd fallen asleep not a minute later, just like Spike knew he would. When they were younger, he would toss and turn for hours, and would even sometimes get up in the middle of the night, but ever since the coma, he could knock out no problem. Spike had first thought it was a good thing, but now he was starting to get worried.

When he and Faye had gotten back that evening, after Ed had jumped around him screaming for a few minutes, and Ein had sniffed thoroughly at his crotch, he was finally able to make his way over to Vicious, who was leaning irritably against the wall.

"You look terrible," Spike said.

"I almost got blown up."

Spike raised an eyebrow, and Vicious recounted what had happened. "Our source was a double agent, then."

Vicious nodded. "Should've known he was a rat."

"Well, they've obviously relocated, because I got a report yesterday that they're still selling in Tharsis. They must still be manufacturing it somewhere."

"Any ideas on how we can find out?"

Earlier in the day, Spike would have said no, but now, with Ed here… "Maybe. But Jet's not gonna like it."

Vicious crossed his arms. "Seems like Jet doesn't like anything."

"Coming from you."

"I like the dog."

"You do?"

Jet walked past the pair of them and nodded. "Ein's really taken to him, but he always has been a lousy judge of character." He winked and headed into the control room.

What the fuck?

"Are you guys friends now?" Spike asked, baffled. Last time he checked, Jet wanted to push Vicious off a moving train.

Vicious shrugged, and Spike let it be. They had other things to deal with. "You still up for a raid, when we find the new spot?"

"Have to be. Can't afford to waste time with backup now, not when they know we're on their trail."

Spike agreed, but he couldn't help but worry if Vicious would be able to fight. He was leaning a little too heavily against the wall, and Spike suspected he was more banged up than he let on. Still, he knew Vicious would rather cut off his nose than admit he was hurt, so he didn't push the issue.

He managed to corner Ed a few minutes later and corral her back into the hold. She bounced down next to Vicious, who was now curled up on the couch, half-asleep. "Friend-person," she said happily. Spike just shook his head. Yet another strange change in the universe. It seemed that everyone on the Bebop was having an eventful day, not just him.

And Jesus, was he having a time. He'd been having the best sleep he'd gotten in ages, and then woken up to the best sight he'd seen in ages, and then was about to have the best kiss he'd had in ages…and then Faye said the worst thing I've heard in ages. He scowled bitterly at the memory; the way he'd felt absolutely disgusted when she'd said it.

That she would bring up Julia like that, when his guard was down, hurt him more deeply than he'd first thought. It came in two parts, his guilt from moving on, and his disappointment in Faye. How can you be jealous of a dead woman? Why can't you just let her be?

He kept going back to Julia's picture, how Faye had been looking at it. Her face, when he'd caught her, had said everything. And he'd hated it, the way she was so clearly comparing herself to Julia, when he'd never wanted, or asked her to in the first place. He didn't want Faye to be Julia; it wasn't fair to either woman. But Faye couldn't seem to get that he wanted her, wanted her bad, just as she was. It frustrated him, and he didn't know how to make her understand.

Faye seemed to be angry too, given the way she stomped off to her room after saying a cursory hello to Ed.

Ed now squinted up at Spike as he explained what he wanted her to do, and gave her all the information he could remember about their rogue Red Eye manufacturer. Vicious hadn't bothered to chime in, so he figured he hadn't missed anything important. "So, Ed," he asked. "Do you think you can find them?"

Ed grinned at him and wiggled her fingers before tumbling off the couch and racing out of the room. Spike groaned; he'd forgotten how spacey she was. Jet came out of the control room and leaned against the doorframe. "She'll be back, she's just going to find her computer."

"What's wrong with the one on deck?"

Jet frowned and crossed his arms. "Vicious stabbed it."

Spike quirked an eyebrow at Vicious, who just shrugged, eyes still closed. "Thought that would fix it."

Spike smirked; it reminded him of the time he'd broken that little weirdo's tape player. He wondered if Jet still got calls from the guy. Jet, for his part, rolled his eyes. "You getting her to track your plant?"

Spike nodded, steeling for a fight, but Jet didn't seem upset. "Okay. I'll put the coordinates in once she gets them. But she's not going anywhere near that when we land."

"Don't worry," Spike said, shaking his head, "this is just a two-man op, in and out. Vicious and I will go, and we'll be back in time for dinner."

"Bell peppers and beef, right?"

"Ah, Jet, you know me so well." They grinned at one another, and Spike felt a familiar warmth spreading through his chest. Just like old times.

Ed zoomed back into the hold, computer held high over her head. She crashed back down next to Vicious, who didn't even flinch. He must be out. Spike figured he was running on fumes, but he still didn't like that he was sleeping so much.

Ed was already clicking away at her keyboard, goggles on and humming nonsense as she surfed the techno-waves or whatever it was she did. Spike had never understood it; the extent of his computer knowledge stopped at hitting it when it froze up. That usually worked, and when it didn't, he would just hit it harder. Maybe I should try stabbing next time…

They all sat in silence for the next half hour, watching Ed work, and Vicious sleep.

Suddenly, Ed sat up and took off her goggles. "Red Eye 2, I found you!" she crowed.

Jet crossed the room to look over her shoulder. "That's great, Ed. Where are they?"

She tapped excitedly at the screen. "Titan!"

Vicious' eyes snapped open.

Ed and Jet, too absorbed with the computer, didn't notice, but Spike did, and he frowned. Titan was a black hole where Vicious was concerned, and Spike didn't like that at all. He needed Vicious at his best for this raid, and he didn't want any past history to get in the way. If only I knew what that history was. Gren sprang to mind, mysterious and undefined as ever.

He debated trying to press Vicious about it later, but he also worried it might make things worse. He didn't know what to do, so he decided to just do nothing. A Spike Spiegel classic.

Jet looked over the screen at Spike. "So, we're going to Titan?"

Spike glanced back at Vicious. His eyes were closed again, his face determinedly blank. "Seems like it."

They'd all drifted off to sleep after that, Jet punching in a course for Titan and getting the Bebop into hyperspace once again. Spike, after Vicious had decided to stay on the couch, stumbled off to his room, feeling drained. When he'd collapsed into bed, he'd doubted he'd get any sleep, because his mind was spinning a mile a minute. Thinking about Faye, Jet, Vicious…the Dragon, Ed…Titan…

Despite what he thought, he had managed to fall asleep, because now his door was creaking open, and he was awake again. A shadow darkened his doorway, but it wasn't Vicious.

It was Faye.

Spike's breath caught, and he stared at her, speechless, as she slipped into the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She padded over to his bed, not saying a word, and climbed in to sit next to him.

"Faye, what are you…" he whispered, but she reached out and put a finger to his lips. He shut up immediately, staring at her with wide eyes. She traced the outline of his mouth, and then ran her fingertips over his jaw. His eyes fluttered closed as her hand cupped his cheek, and he leaned into her palm. He felt her breath, warm against his neck. Her lips followed an instant later, trailing soft kisses slowly up the side of his face.

He opened his eyes again, and Faye was staring at him, hesitating, her lips hovering over his. She was looking at him with such desire, and so hopefully, that any thoughts of their fight rushed out of his mind.

He leaned forward and kissed her gently. Spike felt like his brain was short-circuiting. I'm kissing Faye Valentine, and she's kissing me back. She drew back and looked at him, before nodded once. And that was all he needed to kiss her again, tangling his hands in her hair and pulling her onto his lap.

Faye was giving as good as she got, and Spike swore he saw stars when her hands (oh, Jesus Christ, her hands) started roaming, running through his hair, over his chest, then moving down, down, down. He almost blacked out when one of her hands dipped beneath his waistband, and he felt her smirk against his lips.

Everything, everywhere, was Faye. Every sensation, every kiss, every caress, sent his head spinning. It was all he could to do kiss her back, and a particularly good touch made him throw his head back against the pillow with a low groan. He blushed instantly, but Faye just smirked again and leaned down to recapture his lips with hers. He surged upward, ready to take matters into his own hands, literally, but she dodged coyly, turning her head to kiss the underside of his jaw.

Her hips rolled against his, and he went rigid, trying to control himself. God, what is she doing to me? Whatever it was, he didn't want it to stop, but at this rate, he'd be finished in the next thirty seconds. He had to do something, or it was going to get really awkward, not to mention pathetic, really quickly.

Faye yelped as he flipped them over, her hands coming to rest above her head. She looked at him the same way she had the other night, but this time, Spike could do something about it. And he did, his own hands now skimming over the contours of her body. He kissed her skin slowly, moving down, down…down. He paused to grin at the gasp she made. Then, she started letting out these breathy little moans, and he thought he'd just come right there. He felt her hands tugging on his hair, trying to bring him back up to her. He complied, and she pulled him down for another kiss. Their bodies were pressed against each other, his heavy breaths mingling with her own. It was heaven.

Faye broke the kiss, and leaned up to murmur in his ear for the first time that night. Spike tensed, wondering what she would say. Was she having second thoughts? Oh God, what if she thinks I'm bad at this?

But what she actually whispered was so much worse.

"Bet you never did this with Julia."

Spike jerked awake. He took a shuddering breath as he sat up, pressing his face into his hands. Just a dream. He felt drool at the corner of his mouth, and he rubbed it away, embarrassed. He felt even more embarrassed when he realized he was still hard. Just a fucking dream.

His door burst open and Ed leapt into the room. Spike scrambled to cover himself, but Ed didn't even notice.

"Friend-person is yelling," she said seriously, frowning. "Ed tried to help, but Friend-person keeps moving-grooving."

Spike scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. Of course Vicious was causing an uproar; it had only been a matter of time. "I'll handle it, Ed. Thanks." She stood there for a moment, and Spike sat in his bed awkwardly, waiting for her to leave so he could sort out his, uh, situation. She was looking at him expectantly. He gave her a thumbs up. "Really, Ed, I got it. Go back to sleep."

She shook her head. "Friend-person is too loud. Ed can't sleep outside."

"Go to Faye's room, then. I'm sure she'd love to share with you." Ed's eyes lit up, and she tore out of his room before he even blinked. Spike heard Faye's door open and close, and could only imagine the protests that would follow. Well, Faye can't hate me any more than she already does.

He fell back against the pillow and exhaled. He felt his eyes slip closed. The bed was so soft…and he'd been so warm…

Spike bolted upright. Ed had left his door wide open, and he could now hear what it must have blocked out earlier.

Vicious, screaming like he was being flayed alive.

Spike jumped out of bed and sprinted down the hall, not bothering to put on a shirt or even socks. His feet burned against the freezing floor grates, but he reached the hold in record time to find Vicious, still dead asleep on the couch.

He was, as Ed put it, "moving-grooving," tossing and turning like he used too, and swinging his hands dangerously at invisible enemies. Spike recognized the motions, complicated sword attacks that no doubt would be killing whoever he was dream-fighting. But back on the physical plane, his hands were more of an occupational hazard. Spike didn't fault Ed for passing the job off to him, he figured he'd probably get socked a couple times before he could wake Vicious up.

This had happened before, when he got back from Titan, and it didn't surprise Spike that it was happening now, not when they were on their way to that very planet. The first time, he'd been on a stakeout with Vicious, and had to stuff a rag in his mouth to keep their cover. It had happened twice after that, and Spike remembered Julia telling him, in those strange weeks when Vicious was back but hadn't yet caught them, that it had happened a few times with her as well. He wouldn't talk with either of them about it though; he would just roll over and go back to sleep, or sit up the rest of the night, staring out at the stars.

That was the first time Spike had felt their disconnect, like Vicious was slipping away from him for good. It was a combination of things, his betrayal with Julia, Vicious' newfound secrecy, and their diverging aspirations, that cracked their friendship in half. Spike found it easier to justify his relationship with Julia after that, because Vicious just kept getting crueler, and colder, and eventually, he stopped screaming.

Spike had always wondered if that was a good thing or not. If the screams had been out of fear or guilt. Or maybe a little bit of both.

Taking a breath, Spike stepped into range of Vicious' flailing hands and shouted his name. As he predicted, he got hit pretty hard in the chest before he managed to catch Vicious' wrists and hold them steady. Vicious, still asleep, twisted beneath him, growling. He started screaming again, louder than before, so Spike clapped a hand over his mouth.

Big mistake. He'd forgotten Vicious was a biter by nature, and he didn't hesitate to sink his teeth into the palm of Spike's hand. Spike swore, jerking back, and Vicious wriggled free from his grip. He thrashed around wildly, and Spike didn't know what else to do, so he just flung himself on top of Vicious and hoped for the best. They struggled for a moment, and Spike debated on just punching him right in the face, but he managed to finally get him in a vise grip from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Vicious!" Spike shouted again, but he was screaming too loudly to hear. At this rate, he'd wake up the whole ship, closed doors or not, and Spike was loath to have this become a shared experience.

As a last resort, he put Vicious in a headlock and started squeezing, hoping he'd either wake up from the lack of oxygen or just pass out entirely. Seconds later, his body went completely still, his screams cutting off abruptly. But then, he moved, hands coming up to grab at Spike's forearm, still wrapped loosely around his throat. It was a move Spike recognized, one that would have snapped his arm in half if he hadn't had the good sense to move it in time.

"Hey, stop! It's me," he said, annoyed.

Vicious sat up and turned to him. "You were choking me."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't wake up." Spike pushed himself up to slouch against the side of the couch. Vicious just stared at him. "And you were screaming. Like before."

Vicious blinked and looked at his hands. "I was?"

"Yeah, it was bad."

Vicious didn't say anything to that, and Spike sighed internally. Why did this have to happen tonight? He crossed his arms. "You have to tell me something about it, or I won't let you come with me tomorrow."

Vicious jerked his head up, alarmed. "What?"

"I can't have you cracking up while we're out there. If you're watching my back, you have to be on top of your game. And you're clearly falling off."

Vicious narrowed his eyes murderously. "I'm not."

"Then why'd you go alone to the plant today? Why didn't you wait for me? You would've if you'd been thinking straight."

"I wanted to prove to myself I could do it." He gripped at the edge of the couch. "And I did."

"Yeah, and you almost got blown up in the process," Spike scoffed. "Not to mention what just happened."

"I'm fine, Spike."

Spike just sighed and lolled his head back against the couch, waiting.

Vicious took a raspy breath. "On Titan. There was- someone. Who I betrayed."

"Gren."

His eyes flicked to Spike's, surprised. "Yes."

"I met him, after our fight on Callisto."

"He lived?" Spike could've sworn he detected a note of hope in Vicious' voice. But that was crazy.

"No. I just towed his ship out to orbit. He wanted to go back to Titan, but I can't imagine he survived the internal bleeding."

Vicious was staring fixedly at a spot on the ground, in a way Spike remembered from when they were much younger. It was what he would do to keep his face neutral, to hide the emotions he'd since learned to control.

"So you two knew each other during the war," he said.

"We were-" Vicious swallowed, "-comrades."

"And?" Spike pressed.

But Vicious just shook his head, done with talking. Spike had a million questions, but he knew he wouldn't get any answers tonight. Maybe, in the future, at a time when Vicious' throat wasn't raw from screaming at the war's atrocities. Or at his own.

Well, I got more than I've ever heard before. It's a start.

"V…" He startled both of them when he said it, the nickname that hadn't been used since they were teenagers. "You know you can tell me anything. Believe that." He wanted to say more, but he couldn't. Silence hung in the air between them, filled with all the words they couldn't say.

Vicious turned slowly to face him again, reaching out to tap a finger against Spike's scarred chest, examining his handiwork. He smiled bitterly.

"There is nothing to believe in. You know that."