A/N: I'M BACK!!!!!!!!

Sorry I haven't updated in forever… I had a horrible case of writer's block, so I wrote the rest of the story first, then came back and wrote this chapter. So, I should be back to my normal updating speed soon.

I got my first flame!!! YAYAYAYAYYYY!!!! I know I've warned everyone to flame at their own risk. So I'm going to show you what I like to do with flames:

O,o My god Its been poisoned. Yes, it has. You got a problem with that? I like poisoning things! It's fun!! I write better than that!!!!!! That would be a matter of opinion, dear. If that's meant to be an insult, it is failing miserably. You're downgrading yourself, and I'm sure that's not your point. And then if you write so horribly, do you have a right to criticize my story? No, I'm afraid you don't. You should spend your time improving your stories, if they are so bad! .Dude I'msorry I'm flaming u but This really sux so far!! If you're sorry, then why are you doing it? Apparently you LOVED my story earlier…*looks over at spike who laughing his head off* I'm sure Spike thinks this is hilarious… Then again, he always did have a twisted sense of humor…Well cowgirl13 plz Take over this Story and correct it!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wait, what? According to Cowgirl13, you ALSO flamed her story. Isn't that a little contradictory? Did you want ME to take over HER story and correct it? I respect Cowgirl13, and I know she's a better writer than me, but you can at least avoid dragging her into this too.
See ya later CowBoys Just cowboys? Is that an insult too? Cause I'm sure as hell not a guy!
Lady Speigel

Well, now wasn't that refreshing! This is why in don't mind flames. I get angry, then I get to flame THEM! HEH-HEH-HEH!!!!!!  On the whole, 'Lady Spiegel', if your writing is as bad as this flame, I'm truly insulted!! Please try to improve your flames before posting them. And if my story is so bad, why don't you give me some constructive criticism on how to improve it? That would help me more than flames!

Now, to all my OTHER reviewers, who actually ENCOURAGE me, BIG LOVE HUG to all of you!

Especially to COWGIRL13, for her support and helping me deal with my bad little flamer.

Now, here's the next chappy! Hope you enjoy!

A black stretch limousine pulled up in front of the hotel, and stopped.

"There's our ride." Spike said. He was wearing a dark gray suit, a midnight blue shirt, and a blue and black patterned tie.

Faye joined him, dressed fabulously, as usual. She wore a black strapless dress, with a black corset, laced with blue silk ties that matched Spike's shirt. The dress blossomed out into a full chiffon skirt; black patterned with the same blue design as Spike's tie. She wore black pumps underneath, dark blue gloves, a thick blue velvet choker, and a dark blue rose in her hair.

The chauffer opened the door for them, and Spike noticed that he was one of Madame Breilloule's bodyguards. Apparently, Faye noticed too, for her death grip on his arm loosened slightly.

One seated safely inside the limo, Spike allowed himself to relax as well, taking his hands off his trusty Jericho, which was shoved in his jacket pocket.

Madame Breilloule greeted them formally, resplendent in black silk pants, a leopard print suit jacket, black gloves, and lots of glittery jewelry. Her graying hair was pulled back into a French twist, fastened by a golden barrette in the shape of a cheetah.

"Well. I have news that may be taken for better or for worse. I had a crew of forensics come down and investigate the food at my party. Your dishes were the only ones containing the Bacerate poison. I would advise you to be even more wary than you are now."

Spike and Faye met each other's eyes; the same grim look mirrored on both of their faces.

"But," Madame Breilloule continued. "I have decided on who I will name in my Will." Her dark eyes caught and held Spike's mismatched ones. "A Mr. Spike Spiegel is now a great deal richer…"

After a brief dinner (taste-tested by Mme. Breilloule's bodyguard before being eaten), they took a brief detour to a dancing hall. A demi-orchestra was playing a waltz, and many couples whirled around the large room, while still more watched from small candlelit tables that fringed the dance floor.

Madame Breilloule eyed Faye and Spike. "Well? Aren't you two going to dance? I've heard quite a few stories about the two of you dancing at that dinner party…"

Both of them blushed, and made a flurry of excuses.

"I had to get out of there-"

"Faye was being threatened-"

"Spur of the moment-"

"I didn't think-"

"Pressure-"

"Never would have done it if it hadn't been for…" Spike trailed off when he realized that both Madame Breilloule and Faye were staring at him. Without looking at him, Faye excused herself, saying she needed to get a drink, and hurried over to the punch table.

Spike stared after her, completely confused. He scratched his head, watching her maneuver swiftly through the dancing couples.

Madame Breilloule nudged him, something like humor sparkling in her eyes, despite her stern expression. "Go after her. I want to see what all the fuss is about!"

He nodded distractedly, and strode purposefully towards the punch table. Faye didn't notice him until he whisked her glass from her hand, and gulped it down. "I'm sorry… Did you want that?" he asked, smirking.

She glared at him. "Very funny." She poured herself another drink and gulped it down before Spike could steal it. "What do you want now?"

He bowed, sweeping his arms out in exaggerated flourishes. "May I have this dance, Milady?"

Faye watched him with eyes that sparkled with mischievousness. "I would be honored, Milord." She curtseyed, sweeping her skirts out, and bowed her head with mock humility.

Spike raised her up, and offered his arm. She smiled prettily, and batted her eyelashes, resting her hand lightly on his. He pretended to gag and throw up, and Faye snorted, desperately trying not to laugh. When she began to turn blue from lack of air, Spike released her hand and pounded her heartily on the back.

After regaining her composure (and her air supply), Faye grabbed his hand with one of hers, and twined the other in his hair. She grinned, and tugged his hair, forcing him to bow to her, as he yelped and screeched like a menopausal grandmother who discovers someone's moved the Viagra. After conquering another bout of giggles, Faye released his hair, and patted his head. "Dat's a good widdle Spiky-wiky! This is how our relationship should be…"

With a grin, Spike rested his other hand on the small of her back, and whirled her onto the dance floor.

As they waltzed around the room, Spike caught Madame Breilloule's eye. The formidable lady winked at him over the rim of her glass of champagne. Her bodyguard, who Spike had discovered was stern and silent, met his eyes also. The bald man looked pointedly at Faye, and gave Spike thumbs up and a grin, before schooling his features back into their former stoniness.

Spike chuckled to himself, and went back to concentrating on not stomping on Faye's feet.

Spike didn't know how long they had been dancing, when at whizzing pop made him stiffen. Faye lifted her head from where it had been resting on his chest, and looked around also.

"Silencers!" yelled Spike, and they both sprinted for cover as the screaming began.

A stream of men in dark suits poured from one of the double doors, all of them carrying semiautomatics with silencers jammed over the muzzles.

"Shit!" growled Spike. "ShitshitshitshitshitSHIT!" he pulled his gun out of his jacket pocket, and cocked it. Faye produced her Glock from a thigh-holster, and smiled grimly.

"I was wondering when they were going to show up again…" She fired constantly, pausing only to jam another clip in her gun. Spike slowly backed towards her, holding off the tide of black-clad goons. "We're gonna have to run for it." The hollow clicking of his gun told him that he was firing blanks. "Damn!" Faye shoved him down and gave him covering fire, as he pulled out his last clip.

When he stood back up, she gave him her gun. "Gimme a sec…" She backed towards one of the few tables still standing, slowly reaching for the silverware. She snatched a stake knife, and darted back to where Spike had taken cover behind a marble pillar.

He spared her a questioning glance, before ducking out of cover to shot down the next batch of attackers.

Spike blinked, when Faye appeared behind him, cradling two guns pilfered from her fallen adversaries. She had chopped off most of her skirt, until its ragged hem reached only to midthigh, exposing shapely legs, and an empty thigh holster.

"Come on! We can't hold them off!" she tossed him one of the guns, and opened fire on a few goons that had slipped around the pillar.

Spike caught the proffered weapon, and cleared a swathe through the approaching attackers. He grabbed Faye's free hand, and together they ran for the door.

"Shit! I do not NOT need this!" Spike rifled around in his suit, growing increasingly more frustrated. The unlit cigarette in his mouth twitched, as he clenched his jaw.

A slim hand held a lighter in front of his face. "Looking for something?"

He glanced at Faye, who settled next to him on the roof. She had changed from her ruined dress into her pajamas. Tonight, she wore yet another black lace bra, matching underwear, and wide-legged, see-thru black capris. A lit cigarette dangled from between her pale lips, and as she lit Spike's cigarette, he noticed something swirling in the depths of her emerald eyes.

But as quickly as he saw it, it disappeared, leaving him feeling like he had missed something important.

Spike shook his head, and took a drag from his cigarette, leaning back, and staring at the night sky.

They had made it successfully out of the dancing-hall-turned-war-zone, to find a helicopter waiting outside. After climbing the rope ladder, and dragging themselves inside, Faye and Spike found Madame Breilloule and her bodyguard waiting patiently there. The lady was none the worse for the wear, though her bodyguard nursed a bleeding leg, and Madame Breilloule was bandaging a wound in his arm.

They had been dropped off at their apartment, where Faye had promptly sprinted for the shower, and Spike had gone to change clothes.

Now he was relaxing on the roof, his Jericho and 8 clips lying within reach, wearing a muscle tank, and baggy flannel pants.

Faye sat in silence for a while, watching the smoke from her cigarette float away from her, to embrace the cosmic stars. "Spike?"

He grunted. "Yeah?"

"Why is this happening to me?" her voice sounded detached and empty.

Spike looked out at the horizon. "Hell if I know…"

She turned onto her side and looked at him. "I'm so tired of this… I just want to go back to being normal. No more crazy goons interrupting my sleep, no more Syndicate flunkies trying to pump me full of bullets, no more assassins in the elevator, no more poison in my food, no more running, no more hiding, no more wondering if I'm going to find myself lying in some back alley, watching my blood flow over the concrete!" By the end of this her voice was shaking with anger. "I don't know how much more of this I can stand…"

Spike rubbed his eyes, and turned to face her. "Alright. We'll leave in the morning. Callisto should be nice this time of year. We'll change our names, and try to find the Bebop. Will that make you feel better?"

The relief in Faye's face made Spike's heart wrench. Why hadn't he thought of that before?

She stood, and kissed his head lightly. "Thanks, Cowboy."

A/N: I know it's starting to slow down a bit, but that was the writer's block, and I guarantee that the next chapters will be an improvement! R/R!! (flame at your own risk!) ^.^