When I finally awaken, the sun is high in the sky. My sleep was fitful at best, and my mouth is dry. I stumble into the bathroom to take care of necessities and shower before pulling on a pair of cutoff denim shorts and a loose cotton tank top.

Jet has saved me from breakfast duty. When I make it to the kitchen, he's wearing his silly apron, cooking up bacon and eggs. He smiles at me and places a mug of coffee in my hands, which I accept with bleary-eyed gratitude. After a few sips I'm coherent enough to notice that the haunted look in his eyes is gone. He looks like a new man, and from the way he's flipping the bacon in the skillet, he feels like one as well.

We're alone in the room, so I'm not surprised when he takes a seat across from me and takes a drink from his own cup. "I never expected a day like this to come," he says quietly, and I'm inclined to agree.

"What now?" I ask, half to Jet and half to myself.

He places his hand on my shoulder in a comforting manner and says, "I wish I knew."

Any further conversation is put aside when Ed and Spike stumble in. Jet dishes up the food and breakfast is another cheerful affair. We smile, laugh, and joke.

Something is definitely not right.

Ed and Ein run outside to study the koi pond, so I take the opportunity to join them and get a little sun. My thoughts are swirling around in my head like a thunderstorm, conflicting and clashing, and while I know I need to sort them out, I have no clue as to where to begin.

Besides, all the angst and false cheerfulness is getting to me. I just want a peaceful moment.

Ein's scaring the hell out of the fish, rolling around in the water and splashing for all he's worth. I can scarcely believe this is the same dog that nearly took off my fingers when I was forced to bathe him. Ed is running around with her arms extended, pretending she's an airplane or something.

"Zoooooooommm!"

"Rarf!"

Nope. No peace here.

I sigh and go back inside. I've got my hand on the swinging doors between the kitchen and living room when the sound of voices stop me.

"... changed."

"She took it hard. Left the Bebop, came here, paid off all her debts. Hell, she even sent me money from her catches. Called it payback for the year she lived with us. I didn't want to take it, but she insisted."

My eyes widen when I realize they're talking about me. Half of me wants to waltz in there and give them a piece of my mind, but the other half just leans closer to the door.

I can hear Spike chuckle, genuinely amused. "I had no idea she cared so much."

"I think Faye cares more about all of us than she's willing to admit. You just have to read between the lines- although not so much anymore."

"So when she calls me a lunkhead, it's really a term of endearment?"

"No, she means you're a lunkhead."

I smother a laugh. I always knew Jet was more observant than he let on.

"She does seem different though. It's almost like she doesn't have to prove herself to the world anymore."

The first part of what Jet says is covered by the rattle of dishes, but I catch the end.

"... finally found herself. She's stronger than any of us gave her credit for, and a damn fine woman at that." He laughs a bit. "Never thought I'd say that about Faye, but there it is."

I suddenly feel guilty for eavesdropping, although what Jet says warms me more strongly than the tequila ever did. He's right.

Whatever happens in the future really doesn't matter right now. Spike's back, Jet and Ed are here with me, and for the first time in what seems like forever, I'm not running anymore. I know who I am, because I made myself into that person. I'm strong.

I love Spike, but I won't allow him to take myself away from me. I won't let him shrink me again. No matter what happens, I can handle it.

I'll make sure of it.

I turn soundlessly and head to the television. Big Shots would be coming on soon.

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I tiptoe out of the house, making sure not to turn on any lights or bump into the furniture, and close the door quietly behind me. I listen a moment, and when I'm sure the household is still sleeping, I reach down and pull on the heels I'd carried with me. For three days, I'd hung around the house and kept my guests company, but tonight was going to be all me. There's a big race at the dog track, and I'm going to be there.

I sneak around the corner to where the Red Tail is parked, smoothing my short skirt as I go. While the dress isn't as revealing as I used to wear, it's sexy and classy, perfect for a night at the races. Let some poor sap pay for my drinks tonight; my money is going on the dogs.

I'm just about to climb into the cockpit when he steps around the opposite corner. "Leaving without me?" he asks, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

I whirl around, exasperated. "God damn, Spike! Don't you ever sleep?"

He mock pouts. "But the nocturnal activities around here are so interesting."

"I'm just taking off for a bit. I'll be back before breakfast."

He leans against the side of the house, seemingly calm. "It's not smart to go hunting alone."

As if he's the poster boy for safety and consideration! I narrow my eyes at him. "Oh really? I suppose you learned that when you were almost killed?"

Even from ten feet away, I can see him tense. "Cheap shot, Faye." He takes a drag off his cigarette and says nothing more.

I'm stunned. I expect him to put up a fight, throw an insult, something. Instead, he only stands there, his shoulders squared, staring at something just past my head. It's infuriating, and I've had it.

"Look here, asshole. If I want to go out alone, I will, got it? I don't answer to you." I throw up my hands, one of which is clutching a small beaded bag.

I can hear the anger in his voice. "Faye, you're a real bitch, you know that?"

The missing link clicks in to place, and I start to laugh. It's so normal, so Spike, that I can't help myself. This is what I've been missing. Between giggles, I manage to choke out, "I must have forgotten, you damned idiot. No one's been around to reminded me for close to a year."

At first he just stares at me as if I've grown another head, then he starts laughing as well. I can see that he understands and it's like old times again but even better, because for the first time ever, Spike Spiegel and Faye Valentine are on the same page.

"Shrew."

"Jackoff."

"Whore."

"Bastard."

We're laughing so hard that we can barely understand what the other is saying. It feels good, standing in the darkness, swapping insults, and laughing with him.

When he finally catches his breath, he shakes his head. "I can't believe how much I needed that."

I dab at the corner of my eyes where tears of mirth have formed. "Next time don't stay away so long."

He grins and crushes his cigarette butt into the ground. "So, where are you off to, anyway? Just out of curiosity."

I hesitate before answering. "I'm not hunting a bounty."

"Ahh, I see. Puppies or ponies?" He's smirking at me now and I roll my eyes.

"When did I become so transparent?" I mutter, wondering how it was that Spike could read me like a book when he wanted.

"You're not transparent, just predictable. So which is it?"

I give a long-suffering sigh. "Puppies. There's a race tonight and I intent to win."

He nods sagely and studies the Red Tail, walking in a complete circle around it, checking the modifications I've made. "Can this thing hold two?"

I raise an eyebrow but choose my next words carefully. "It's a tight fit, but it can be done. Feel up to it, cowboy?"

He tilts his head toward me, a grin on his lips. "Is that a dare?"

I smirk back, fully enjoying the game. "Should it be?" I ask sweetly.

He snorts and starts to climb into the cockpit, but I hold up a hand to stop him. "No way, Gorgio, not dressed like that."

He stares down at his blue suit, then looks at me with wounded eyes. "What's wrong with my suit?"

I give him the patented female 'look' then point toward the front door. "You've got fifteen minutes, then I'm out of here."

Miracles upon miracles, he obeys without complaint. I sigh when he rounds the corner and disappears into the shadows. My night has just gotten a lot more interesting.

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Hot damn! It's just so wonderful to be me at times!

Spike and I burst through the front door sometime around eight am, whooping and cheering, and immediately surround Jet, each of us trying to talk over the other. There are woolongs falling out of my overstuffed clutch bag, Spike's well tailored black suit pockets, the cleavage of my dress, and the two large bags we're both holding.

We cleaned up at the races and the casino, and I didn't even cheat.

Well... maybe a little. Hey, it's not my fault I can remember all the cards in the deck. I'd bet all my hard-earned woolongs that the dealer can do the same thing, so I was just leveling the odds. But that doesn't matter, because I am four hundred thousand woolongs richer than I was when I left and there are champagne bubbles running through my veins.

I can feel my cheeks flushed with excitement and alcohol, and Spike's been grinning nonstop since we started on our mutual winning streak. I never knew he was a shark at the craps table. Hell, I would have made him my casino buddy a long time ago had I known he could call the dice like that.

Jet's eyes look like they're going to fall out of his head as he tries to decipher our interjected storytelling over the volume of the radio, which is cranked up on some jazz station. His gaze shifts back and forth between us with each new interruption and his eyebrows are about to meet his receding hairline. He opens his mouth a few times, like he wants to say something, but between me and Spike, he can't get a word in edgewise.

"...and that's how I won the first thousand..."

"...but then the lunkhead lost that and another grand at the Blackjack tables before I booted his ass out of there..."

"...that damned shrew has the deck memorized so I left her at the card games..."

"...by the time I was finished, he'd cleaned up at craps and roulette. It should be illegal to be that good..."

"...but for someone who claims to hate dogs so much, she knows how to pick a winner..."

"...did you know his system for dog racing is betting on the catchiest name? Honestly!..."

Jet holds up a hand and we shut up. "How much did you win?"

I smother a grin and try to catch a few woolongs that are threatening to escape from the top of my dress.

"Between the two of us, we made almost a cool million," Spike says, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips.

I didn't think Jet's eyes could bulge any larger. I was wrong. This was too good to pass up.

"C'mon Jet!" I say, grabbing his hand. "Dance with a rich lady!"

He protests halfheartedly, but I'm having too much fun to care. The song on the radio has a fast, funky jazz beat, and just when I'm ready to admit defeat with my hesitant dance partner, Jet surprises me with an expertly delivered swing-out before sweeping me off my feet. Literally.

Jet leads me around the living room floor in an improvised Lindy Hop. He's grinning, his eyes are flashing, and after the initial shock of discovering that the man can truly dance, I throw a few moves of my own in the mix. Tossing him a wink, I nudge his cybernetic arm out straight before executing a perfect flip over it.

Spike's standing against the wall, his unlit cigarette dangling dangerously from his open mouth. Amazement and amusement are clearly visible in his expression.

"Not bad, old man!" I call out as Jet spins me away from him. He grunts and pulls me back. "Who're you calling old?" he jokes, tossing me into the air.

All too soon the song is over, replaced with a slower bluesy tune. My partner laughingly concedes and collapses on the sofa. "Damn. It's been years since I did that," he says, trying to catch his breath. I'm half drunk and having too much fun to sit just yet. I twirl around the room with an imaginary partner, my eyes closed, not even caring that I'm dancing alone.

My eyes pop open when I hit something solid.

Spike has moved from the wall and is standing in front of me with his arm extended. He takes my hand and launches into the Imperial Swing, a slower dance style than the up tempo Lindy I had just completed. While his moves aren't as precise as Jet's were, they have a slow grace that definitely compliments both the dance and the music that's playing.

"Looks like both of you were holding out on me," I murmur as I pass his side. He just gives me his quirky grin and places his hand at my waist to lead me into a spin. Jet applauds and Ed squeals when she enters the room to see what's going on.

"Ooooh! Teach Ed!"

I plead exhaustion and join Jet on the sofa to watch Spike lead Ed through the basics of swing. She's a surprisingly fast learner, and I can't help but think that a year ago, Spike would have never taken the time to teach Ed anything, let alone how to dance.

Then again, a year ago Spike wouldn't have accompanied me anywhere except a bounty hunt, and no way in hell would he have danced with me willingly.

As I watch their endearingly clumsy attempts at the Jitterbug, I admit to myself that my increased heartbeat has very little to do with with the fast pace of the dancing.