I'll have a blue Christmas, that's certain
And when that blue heartache starts hurtin'
You'll be doin' all right, with your Christmas of white,
But I'll have a blue, blue Christmas
If Spike had had his way, he wouldn't have moved when Margaret and Timothy Tan started shooting at him. He figured it would have been as fitting an end as any. Hadn't the first time occurred almost exactly like this? The full-circle effect seemed to fit.
But his reflexes took over and propelled him over the back of the universe's ugliest armchair and folded his frame behind it as bullets thunked into the front and stuffing rained down on Spike like snow. A piece landed on the end of his nose, and he sneezed.
Maybe this wasn't so bad. The chair was being destroyed even as Margaret stopped to reload. Soon a bullet would rip through the fabric and wood and into his back. At this point, at this time of the year, at this moment in his life, Spike knew he would welcome it.
In the Redtail, Faye was cursing Spike out with every word and phrase she knew, plus a few that spontaneously popped into her mind. Why did she have to be the one to go get the stupid lunkhead every time he decided to be a knight in shining freaking armor? Why did she have to be the one to get caught in his little obsessions and psychological abysses? Why her? What had she done to deserve this?
As the zipcraft swooped low over Margaret's apartment building, Faye saw a window on a high floor lit with what looked like the blue flashes of a strobe light. Faye knew different. It was gunfire, and in the flashes she could see two figures standing with arms extended and one with his skinny frame curled like a folded skeleton behind some sort of cover.
Faye cursed again. It was so like the moron to walk into a trap. In fact, it was just like him. If he didn't walk into traps so willingly though, Faye would probably be dead a few times over. So she did the only thing she could, knowing that if the situation had been reduced to the midget and his sister using Spike for a moving target a stealthy intervention was out of the question.
Faye aimed the Redtail at Margaret Tan's window and planted the ship in the middle of it. Of course, the Redtail was a lot bigger than the window and took a lot of the wall out too, but by the way Tan and his sister jumped backwards with expressions of terror on their faces, Faye thought it probably had the desired effect.
Spike was surprised, but somehow relieved when Faye crashed her zipcraft through the wall of Margaret Tan's apartment. It took away the dilemma he was facing—whether to stay crouched behind cover like some kind of suicidal yet cowardly scarecrow, or stand up and actually start shooting back. Spike didn't want to shoot at Margaret. Spike didn't know if he could shoot her. That bothered him, in the back of his mind that was all about Spike, but he ignored it.
Faye leapt from the cockpit with her Glock drawn and fired at the retreating backs of the newly inaugurated brother/sister act. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" she managed to screech at Spike as she gave chase. Spike considered the question. He thought he knew the answer, too. He couldn't shoot at Margaret. Julia. Margaret, he said firmly to himself. Whatever she was named, it would be like killing her all over again. Spike didn't have as many hang-ups as everyone thought, but he did have this one, and it was a bad weakness in this situation. He was the first to admit that.
Then he realized he was still sitting cross-legged on the floor of Margaret Tan's apartment, and he could hear gunfire being exchanged above him, probably on the roof. He had left Faye in a two-against-one situation, which normally wouldn't have bothered him, but he knew that Tan was fast, dangerous and an extremely good shot. Faye, while also fast and dangerous when you threatened her money or her food supply, was a good shot as well. But not as good as Tan. And not against two Tans either.
Spike stood swiftly and drew both of his guns, the one in his overcoat and the one he kept at the small of his back for a surprise. His legs carried him out Margaret's door and up the stairs through a door marked ROOF ACCESS. He burst out into the windy, snow-blowing night and almost smashed into Faye, who was crouched behind the metal stairwell door. She fired at the two shapes across the roof until her Glock clicked empty.
"Shit!" she swore. "I'm out." Spike leaned around the door and assessed the situation. He smiled as he saw that for once, Timothy Tan had screwed up. There was no ship waiting for them on the roof, no backup ride being called over the comm. Tan was relying on shooting down the two bounty hunters and making his escape through the street. Spike grimly returned fire as the con man shot at his exposed and already abused head. Margaret was one story, but he would be damned if he let this little prick get away again. Faye snatched his second pistol and also began to fire.
Spike's gun clicked empty, and he pulled back to change the clip. Not far enough, as a searing pain suddenly went through his left shoulder. Spike cried out and toppled forward as the .45 revolver round tore a chunk of flesh and muscle out of him. He hit the snow sideways, wondering why it was always the left shoulder that took the punishment. Didn't bad guys ever try for symmetry?
Margaret Tan advanced on the now exposed bounty hunter and leveled her pistol at his head. "Drop the gun, miss, or I'll shoot him."
"Fuck," Faye muttered, glaring at Margaret Tan in such a way that Spike wondered why she didn't melt. But she dropped the pistol. It made almost no sound in the wet snow. Timothy came to stand next to his sister, reaching up to pat her on the shoulder.
"Nice shot, Meggers. Really. I'm impressed." He reached into his overcoat and handed her the bankbook containing the bounty. "I'll mop up here, okay? You go on and call us a shuttle to the spaceport."
"No!" said Margaret suddenly. She gripped the pistol in both hands and spread her legs, taking a textbook firing stance against Spike. "He tried to take my Christmas," she said, her voice quivering with rage. "I want him." Timothy stepped back, nodding as if he understood.
Spike realized he was lying on his fully loaded gun. He looked up at Margaret and saw her finger curl around the trigger. It would be so easy to roll and shoot. He was faster than her. Just flop over half a foot, lift your arm and pull a tiny metal lever.
He didn't do it. He had known he wouldn't from the time he realized he was still armed. He didn't. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He didn't particularly care.
"I hope you roast in Hell," said Margaret Tan. "Merry Christmas, Spike."
Spike closed his eyes, and thought of Julia.
The shot echoed across the roof and Spike snapped his eyes open reflexively. Margaret was still standing, immobile. A trickle of red ran between her eyes, sprung from a tiny wellspring in her forehead. Spike became aware of a pair of stocking-clad legs standing behind him, and the absence of his pistol.
"Yeah," said Faye as Margaret Tan toppled over. "Merry Christmas, bitch."
Spike didn't move. He just lay in the snow, ignoring the fact that he was becoming numb. He was already numb as he watched blood run and spread in a halo around golden hair. She was dead. She was shot dead. She was…
"MEG!" Timothy Tan screamed. He raised his gun at Faye, who was still standing, slightly surprised she'd actually managed to shoot the wench. "I'll fucking kill you!" Tan bellowed.
"This is the ISSP!" another voice blared, this time from a hovercraft that swooped over the roof. "Drop your weapons and put your hands behind your head." Faye complied. Tan looked at the craft, enraged. His expression turned to fear, then desperation as six more ISSP SWAT vehicles surrounded the roof, their lights and noise filling the night and chasing away the darkness and snow.
The tableau the ISSP officers saw as they rappelled down to the rooftop from their hovercraft was an odd one of a scantily dressed babe standing over a tall skinny guy who was leaking a lot of blood into the snow. They saw another, blonde woman also sprawled out on her back with an ugly bullet hole in her head. And they saw Timothy Tan, highest-bountied con man in the galaxy, drop his gun, fall to his knees and cry like a baby as he was taken into custody.