I don't own Cowboy Bebop

=The Only Gift That I Need=

Faye heard the gun shots and stared blankly at her hands. Spike's here…

She didn't know what to feel. Had he actually come to save her? Or was he here because he had to finish Vicious off for good.

Do I even matter?

More gun shots made her body quiver. It no longer mattered what his reasons were. She wanted to see him just one more time. She had to keep on fighting. She had to keep on living. This was the only way.

She could feel her hands move…slowly, but they were still moving.

Think! Think Valentine! she screamed at herself. How the heck can you get out of here?

She looked around the room. There wasn't much to see. It was still shrouded in the darkness except for the soft light that hung above her head.

She tried to remember as her head dropped back to her chest. It had gotten harder to keep on looking up…her head felt like it weighed a ton. There was that table that Vicious used to prop the camera in front of me and there was that damn bag full of needles and medicine that he dropped on there.

Needles

If I can get the needles, I could pick these locks.

She tried to move her body once again, but it didn't respond. The medicine had already taken it's full effect.

===

He ran across the hallway, grabbing his shoulder. He wasn't expecting the attack that Spike had in him. Bullets had pierced him twice on the shoulder and one on his leg. This was going to be fun.

He hid himself in the shadows of the building. He had lived there long enough to memorize every little smudge of the place. He could go around the building blind and still not be lost.

He heard his nemesis breathing somewhere close to him. "Spike," he called out. "You're slipping."

There were a few more gun shots, close by. They were just above his head. He felt the cold air of each bullet as they passed.

"Look who's talking."

Vicious had to smile at that comeback. It was true. Not fighting for the longest time had diminished his skill. But it no longer mattered. He didn't plan to live any longer.

Spike emerged from behind a few boxes. Blood was dribbling down his cheek and chest. He looked as beaten up as Vicious. Vicious slid out into the light as well.

They circled each other for a moment, each watching the other's eyes.

Finally, Spike broke the silence. "Why'd you want me to live?"

Vicious was taken aback but didn't show it. "I'm surprised you didn't figure it out for yourself."

He let his sword fall to his side and stopped moving. It was time. He had been waiting for this moment since Spike had died the first time.

===

Spike stared into Vicious eyes. They were the eyes of an insane man. He cleared his throat and dropped his gun into the holster. He had eight bullets altogether in two different guns.

He stuck both his hands in his pockets and slouched. "Why'd you want me to live?"

"I'm surprised you didn't figure it out for yourself," Vicious answered.

Spike stayed where he was. Thoughts sprouted in his head and he realized what was going on. He glanced to the entrance.

The door was shut. Thin spirals of metal encircled the knob. His eyes followed the metal. There was wire entwined in everything. They seemed to grow out of the very warehouse itself.

They led to something high above his head and far below his feet. Spike sniffed the air. It smelled of gun powder.

Explosives.

If one of them died, the other one would as well. Whether it be by fight or by the explosion, both of them would die together.

He thought about that time where he was almost enveloped in the darkness…when he almost felt really free. He had almost died, but Vicious…Vicious was still alive…and that wouldn't do.

Spike grinned. "You're a sick man, Vicious."

Vicious raised his sword.

He swung it in a graceful arc above his head. The silver metal against the dark sky was almost mesmerizing.

Spike ducked underneath it and kicked. His foot landed against the hilt of the sword, stopping Vicious from completing the swing. Spike withdrew his hand from his pocket, and shot with one of his guns. One.

But Vicious had disappeared. Spike didn't know whether or not he had hit him.

There was a flash of silver by his eye. He ducked underneath the sword and shot. Two.

"Not fast enough, Spike," he heard Vicious whisper in his ear.

Spike just grinned.

He quickly hid behind a table and checked his ammunition. Six bullets in two guns. How the hell was he suppose to win?

Vicious flew out from the darkness, his trench coat billowing around his legs. He raised his sword above his head and slashed down.

Spike cried out in pain as he felt the cold metal slide into his skin.

=End Chapter=

The Only Gift That I Need is a song title by the Dashboard Confessional.