Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop or the song, (It's hard) letting you go by Bon Jovi. I hope you enjoy my story.

                                                    Hard to let go

It ain't no fun lying down to sleep

And there ain't no secrets left for me to keep

Spike walked out of the motel, opening the car door. He tossed his suitcase inside, on the passenger side seat. He climbed in after it, starting the ignition. He sighed, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel. He let out a shaky breath, before sitting back up, and pulling out of the parking lot.

He reached across the seat, grabbing a pack of cigarettes out of the side of his suitcase, along with a lighter. He slipped a cigarette from the pack, placing it between his lips. The blue glow of the lighter and he tossed it back into the seat. Rolling down the window, he exhaled a puff of smoke, which curled into the midnight air.

I wish the stars up in the sky would all just call in sick

And the clouds would take the moon out on some one-way trip

He leaned pack into the seat, staring at the darkened road. The only light in the ceaseless darkness was the moon, stars and headlights. He sighed, blowing the smoke out of his lungs.

The moon cast its eerie glow on the street before him. How Spike wished it would just leave him alone. He rolled his head to the side, glancing out at the country side. It was a rare sight among the ruckus of today's world. Yet, at the moment, he could care less.

He tossed the burned down cig out the window, the smell of nicotine and burned poisons going with it. Inhaling the fresh air, Spike coughed. He wasn't used to that smell, usually the air had some smoke or pollution mingled with the oxygen.

I drove all night down streets that wouldn't bend

But somehow they drove me back here once again

Spike continued to drive, using up his tank of gas and his last pack of cigarettes. He pulled over at a Seven Eleven to refill on both of them. He got out of the car, opening the fuel lid and twisting off the cap. He put the nozzle of the pump into the car. He scanned the parking lot while he waited for it to fill.

He spotted a blonde and his heart skipped a beat, till she turned around. It sunk. She had looked so much like her from behind. So much like the woman he had fallen in love with and given away his heart.

Of all the places he had to stop to refill, it had to be here. The seven eleven with a Julia look a like out front. He placed the hose back on the pump, before walking inside to pay. "I'll have three of those," Spike pointed to a pack of unnamed cigarettes.

"That's $30.87 for the gas and cigs," the store owner replied.

Spike handed him thirty-one dollars, "Keep the change." He grabbed the three packs and left.

To the place I lost at love, and the place I lost my soul

I wish I'd just burn down this place that we called home

As soon as he stepped outside, that blonde he saw earlier was upon him like a moth drawn to a flame. "Hey, baby," she ran her hand across his chest. "Want to come to my house for the night?"

Spike turned his head to look at her, "You're mighty blunt and no… I don't."

"Come on, you look like you are getting over a long relationship. I can help you." She smiled, twirling her hair around her finger.

"No, you couldn't help me." Spike continued walking towards his car. He tossed the cigarette packs inside.

"How do you know? You didn't even give me a chance," she whined, leaning against his car. "I can help you burn those old bridges, get rid of old ties."

He turned to look at her, his russet color eyes flaring an angry brown. "No, I don't want your services."
 

It would all have been so easy

I you'd only made me cry

"Go home," Spike continued. "Re-think your life." He collapsed into his car, pulling the door shut. He pulled out of the gas station. It only reminded him of what he lost, what he could never get back.

He rolled down his window yet again, lighting up the cigarette. He reached down, turning on the radio. It was some woman crooning over lost love. The saxophone playing in the back ground, mixed with the piano. They did well to create the mood of the lonely, broken heart.

He relaxed into his seat, flicking the ashes out the window. How lonely the open road was, especially now that he knew home would be just as lonely.

And told me how your leaving me

To some organ grinder's lullaby

She should have at least told him that she wouldn't have come. Instead, she left him to stand out in the rain, staring down that lonesome grey road. He never saw her after that. He could still remember the feeling of utter rejection, utter abandonment.

He sighed, turning off the radio. It was so much more peaceful with silence. He glanced out the window at the city roads. How the country faded away quickly. There wasn't much of it on this lonely planet anyway.

It's hard, so hard – It's tearing out my heart

It's so hard letting you go

Spike could feel the emptiness filling him. It was so hard to forget her when everything reminded him of her. Her smile like the stars, her touch like the sunshine, her tears like the rain, her hair like gold.

He shook his head to get the thoughts out. Even though he changed his course of thought, he could still feel the void.

Now the sky, it shines a different kind of blue

And the neighbor's dog doesn't bark like he used to

He drove through the city without looking back. It was thirty miles and three cigarettes behind him before he even noticed he was out of its confines. He sighed, the sky was an endless summer blue, but he didn't care.

The horses ran in field of brown, but he didn't care about that either. They were meaningless sights on his way to nowhere.

Well, me, these days

I just miss you- it's the nights that I go insane

He pulled over at a motel to get his days worth of sleep. He paid for a room, and went inside. Collapsing on the bed, he was out in no time. Not even a chance to wallow in pity that she wasn't next to him.

Nights seemed so empty now, just like everything else. It really had no meaning.

Unless you're coming back

For me, that's one thing that just won't change

Spike, just like the day before, got up, returned the key and retired to his automobile for another day's worth of just cruising. He was running low on money and eventually he had to stop. Having eaten breakfast out of the vending machine, he didn't have to stop for awhile.

It's hard, so hard – It's tearing out my heart

It's so hard letting you go

Not long into the morning, a carnival got his attention. He pulled over, just for the chance to get out of the car. He walked down the long dirt paths of games and whatnot. At the end of the path, a tent caught his attention. Underneath it sat a machine, with the heading, Let Zarca tell your future. Just out of boredom, Spike entered the tent.

Now some tarot card shark said I'll draw you a heart

And we'll find you somebody else new

Spike inserted dollar into the machine. The plastic man inside, moved and waved his hand, and a slip of paper came out. You're out of luck, but be happy. Things won't always be grey.

Spike stared at the slip of paper, before inserting another dollar. It repeated the same hand movements and sprouted another slip. He picked it up, reading. Love has left you, don't be blue. Lighten up, somebody will find you.

An old woman walked out from behind the machine, "This hunk of junk doesn't get many customers. Are you feeling okay, sonny?"

"Just a little down, but your machine seems to know that already." He raised the slips of paper

"Yeah, that's all he's programmed to say. Negative stuff, but you should listen to it. He may be mechanical but he knows his stuff. Don't give up." 

But I've made my last trip to those carnival lips

When I bet all I had on you

Spike nodded, "I'll take that to heart." A light drizzle began to fall. "I guess I better get out of here, before my car gets stuck in the mud. Nice talking to you though."

"You too," she smiled.

Spike returned the short walk to his car, jumping in. He started it and was back on the never ending road.

It's hard, It's hard, It's hard, so hard

It's hard letting you go

He looked out the window, maybe what the old lady said was true. Maybe he shouldn't give up. Maybe he should look for her.

It's hard, so hard – It's tearing out my heart

He reached across the seat, pulling a cigarette from the pack. Placing it to his lips, he lit it. Exhaling the cloud of smoke, he relaxed into his seat. That's exactly what he was going to do.

But it's hard letting you go

Note: This story was a joint fic with my friend, Eternity's Angel of Mercy. Her's was also to this song. I would love if you could check it out as well, drop a review.

Please review. I would love to know what you think of my story. : )