[Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop was created by, and is copyrighted by Yadate Hajime in association with the legal entities Sunrise and Bandai. The characters are used without permission but no material profit of any kind is being made from the following work. Sunrise and Bandai reserve all rights to Cowboy Bebop material, but all of the situations unique to this work of fan fiction are property of the writer.  Bang.  Hiss.  Vroom…?]

[Author Note: The fic is rated for violence, foul language, and other unsavory things.  Not actually a very good chapter thanks to my waning interest.  Once again, this fic goes within the continuity of my other Bebop fics, which, I think, can be read in any order since they were written out of order, though reading 'Dog with Sharper Teeth' first might be for the best.]


Friday's Child

The conversation was as unpleasant as any he'd had with his partner.  Spike didn't know what it was about, but he heavily suspected it had something to do with the hands of the Van becoming increasingly generous to him and much less so to Vicious.

"This is stupid," he said, shaking his fluffy head, "let's forget it."  He missed, more than anything, earlier days when he never thought twice about what he said to his partner.  When they fought back-to-back; them against the world. 

"What are we forgetting?"  Julia's voice, soft and low heralded her return.  She looked far better, if a bit cold in the white tank top that had been perfect for the afternoon heat.  Better than that, when she stepped over Vicious' knees to claim her seat, she did so with her back to Spike.  For an instant, it was utterly safe to let his eyes sweep over the curves of her backside.

Looking at his partner's girlfriend, Spike ignored the most sensible thought he'd had that day.  It isn't possible to fight back-to-back when there are more than two backs.

"About getting a dog," Spike shrugged dismissively.  He still wasn't sure what the conversation had really been about.  The unpleasant tone it wore required more thought than he wanted to put into it.  He wrote it off to all the junk they'd polluted their bodies with recently and lifted his beer.  Time for a little hair of a different dog, he mused, taking a long pull.

The exasperated expression on Julia's face made it obvious she didn't believe Spike.  Thankfully, she didn't push the issue.  She didn't have time to.

With no warning, the windows shattered inward in a roaring inferno of glass razor blades.  Had Spike more time before sliding to the sticky floor under the table, he might have admired the reflection of the orange fire shimmering across the cloud of broken glass.  Seconds after the explosion he was lost in a knot of arms, legs, and guns as he and Julia collided.  The only sense they could make for several moments were Vicious' legs, which were upright in the chaos of their collision.  In the mood he'd been it was little wonder his guns were already out and looking for death.

There wasn't time to spare, but Spike and Julia noticed each other in the clutter of limbs under the cover of Vicious' reflexive retaliation.  Hot shells fell around them even as the glass from the windows rebounded from the floor in a parody of hot sleet.  It was surreal and beautiful and not the first time their eyes met; like the sky noticing the earth again and wondering what kept them apart.

A burning shell, a murderous cast off, flew down from the blooming concussions of Vicious' continued onslaught.  It rang out against the floor, audible only in their minds as they shared a moment of insight.  Blue and brown eyes rose up from the shell and simultaneously fixed on the cold man sheltering them where before there had been a table.  In the same instant Vicious' left gun jammed and his right ran out of bullets for the second time that day.

Like well-oiled pistons, Julia and Spike threw themselves up as Vicious ducked down to reload.  The two slammed into the table they hadn't noticed Vicious upturn as a further barrier to reinforce the line of booths before them.  They found their targets taking cover beside the windows and doors, right outside on the sidewalk.

From the corner of his eye, Spike registered the bar's occupants and how they were making use of the layout.  The billiard tables were mostly up turned; Shin and Lin were taking turns shooting around the edges of a blackened table they'd staked out after Vicious had turned them away.  To better their footing, Lin occasionally kicked a nearby ball to the side, while never actually taking his eyes off the front door.  Spike felt a tinge of pride in the way the pair made use of their training.  The absent way Lin cleared the footing reminded him momentarily of his own cramped situation.

He never lost his focus on the front of the building as he analyzed his shooting situation.  It was anything but favorable with three people occupying a space meant to hold four as long as they were sitting two across.  Vicious seemed to want to do something about it, too, for he felt the man slide to one side without coming up to shoot.  He hoped his friend didn't have anything in mind that involved getting shot to hell like the skyscraper fiasco.  Vicious had almost died on that one.

"Covering fire," Spike commented to Julia, reading his partner's movements.  She wasn't the greatest shot between them, but she synched well.  Her true strength and greatest utility lay in her driving skills; they were utterly unsurpassed.  Squeezing off well-placed rounds was more her gun style.  She used fewer bullets and her accuracy was commendable, if slow.

There was an envious twinge in Spike's mind as he felt Vicious unsheathe himself from the close confines of the booth and swing out through a lag in the gunfire.  He liked the idea of dancing with the bullets in a bitter haze of inevitable death.  Except, being close to Julia led him to wonder, as she ducked to reload and he squeezed off several more shots, if the dead end street he traveled didn't have an outlet after all.  Sometimes she was a pool of melancholic calm that led him to dream of a future.

It wasn't like her to fumble with her clip, but slamming the rectangular bullet container home took her a second try.  She had noticed Vicious head out from Shin and Lin's billiard table and vault headlong into the kitchens through the pick up window.  It meant she and Spike would continue to be intimately engaged in slaughtering people out front while Vicious used the employee entrance to stage a flanking assault.

Intimately engaged.  She shot up and selected her target, taking over the left window and the three assailants clustered there.  They were remarkably sloppy.  Two of her targets had been hit, and even though they weren't seriously wounded they kept shooting wildly.  It took her a moment to realize their shooting was thanks to the bright streetlamps outside.  It was just barely brighter outside than in, making the bar's occupants more difficult to see. 

Bloody amateurs, she could see them fine in the streetlight.  If they'd shot out the lamp above them, they'd have taken a significant advantage.  A breath sucked in between white teeth.  "Next time we're drunk and Vicious decides to work on my car when it doesn't need it..."

Spike laughed as he shot, as was typical of him.  "Don't let him?"

"Don't turn on the radio so loud."

He didn't risk a questioning glance,only humored her with a simple, "Why's that?"

"I'm sick of these people."

Brown eyes squinted for confirmation.  Sure enough, Spike smirked, it was the group from earlier in the day.  He'd beat the hell out of them (he liked to think) and Vicious had shot a lot of their legs out from underneath them.  Perhaps the lot had actually been in a syndicate?  If the elders found out about the triggering incident, there would be trouble.  They'd hear about it no matter what, but the more random it looked, the better.  Of course, random was defined by a hit-and-run, not a full on assault. 

White teeth absently gnawed on his lower lip.  He knew he could get out of trouble with his smooth style and easy wit, but Vicious' pride would have the Van all over him.  Concern further fueled his arm and aim; the last thing Vicious needed in his mysteriously shitty mood was the elders' idea of a spanking.  Ending the fight as quickly as possible was better for his partner and for he and Julia since they had to put up with the syndicate's most aptly named member.

Vicious bolted out of the alley entrance, sword preceding him in wide swaths.  Nobody was there to meet him and thus be cleaved in half.  He sneered slightly at the amateurism he was being subjected to and ran down the alley to the popping sounds emanating from the front of the building.  He didn't stop when he reached the mouth of the alley: running straight out would be the last thing the morons would expect.

On his way out, he found them crouched around the brick storefront's windowpanes and gaping doorway with the exception of the one responsible for the first attack.  The man with the grenade launcher was frantically trying to reload his antique but was hampered by bloody fingers. 

Right-handed gun in his left hand, he swept forth, shooting two of the three assailants covering the middle window, ignoring the shells he was ejecting into his own path.  If he knew Spike, the middle targets were Spike's and freeing him up was foremost on his mind.  Second on his mind was the fumbling grenade launcher operator. 

His trademark sword traced a deadly arc as he passed the man and dove for the cover of a car even as the man's head hit the asphalt behind him.  He didn't notice the explosive gush of blood from the body's powerful heart muscles.  By the time the body realized it was dead, there was only a flood of pouring blood to see.

The lull in gunfire from their opposition alerted Spike immediately to his partner's presence.  He quit his position the instant his targets fell away, charging in a weaving suicide dance for the front of the bar.  Behind him Shin and Lin laid down excellent covering fire while Julia took advantage of the confusion to blast one of their opponents in the head.

The climax of the gunfight had been reached.  It took little effort from there to route and shoot down the rest of their attackers.  Spike and Vicious concentrated on shooting and cutting down the ones trying to flee while Julia walked behind them indicating survivors to Shin for immediate execution.  Meanwhile Lin was on a phone arranging a pick up, police sirens lending his voice the desired urgency.

When there were no more victims in range, Vicious and Spike headed back to the group.  Their steps were quick, fueled by the sirens rapidly approaching the scene.  They didn't have much time, but Spike started to sketch an outline to save them from maximum elder punishment.  "We didn't push Julia's car to a syndicate covered garage, so they don't necessarily know we instigated that fight earlier today."

Vicious' frosty eyes narrowed even more in his already severe face.  He hadn't really seen the men from earlier in the day as he'd been underneath Julia's car.  He couldn't remember anything clearly beyond a failed attempt at blowing Spike's brains out the back of his messy-haired head. 

"You don't think the elders haven't already cracked all the jokes possible from the inevitable reports concerning you and I pushing a car?"

Spike squelched his desire to laugh at the memory of Vicious stoically straining against the chrome bumper, his identifying white hair hanging in bedraggled locks around his sweaty face.  "Of course they haven't," he sighed helpfully.  "They haven't thought of any funny jokes yet."

"No matter who started the fight earlier today," Vicious retorted, nearing the bar's sidewalk where the twins were waiting impatiently, "the elders will pin it on the person they think they have the most to fear from."

His attempt at levity was crushed ruthlessly underfoot, but Spike wouldn't succumb to his partner's nihilism so easily.  "With Julia and I to back you up, that isn't going to happen," he affirmed with conviction.

"Life is cruel and unfair, Spike," Vicious replied smoothly.

"And fate is a fickle bitch," Spike shot back sarcastically.  "Right?"

Content to let his charismatic partner have the last word, Vicious did not reply.  Therefore, it was Spike who asked the obvious question with snappish intensity.

"Where's Julia?"

Lin answered with the immediate obedience his superiors admired in him.  "Getting Shin's car.  There's nobody in the area to pick us up." 

A groan was all Spike could command in response when the flashing lights of the police struck the scene.  Several police cruisers were fishtailing around a corner a few blocks down.  "I hope you gave her the keys, Shin; she's late."

"Like she needs them," Shin snorted, drawing a smirk from Spike and an elbow from his brother.  Vicious made no response other than sheathing his sword; the police were beginning to get too close for even his legendary comfort level.  It had been over a year since he or Spike had served time and with all the trouble they'd been in since then, he wasn't convinced the Van would bother to spring both of them.

True to form, Shin's car came screaming around the corner of the building with less than seconds to spare.  Julia didn't actually stop the car on her approach, merely slowed down enough that only a hard run would see them to the car in time. 

All four men dropped any pretense of conversation and pelted from the sidewalk in an intersecting path for the car.  The run was difficult but not impossible, taking a good grip on the doors and hood in order to swing inside was the real feat.  Spike and Vicious both angled for back seats in order to shoot at their pursuers should it become necessary.  Lin opted for the shotgun seat despite fear of Vicious' wrath, should the man become upset with him for daring sit beside his lady. 

Shin was unfortunate enough to find himself between his superiors in his own back seat when they both opted to break out the rear windshield to ease any attack they might make on their pursuers.  He was still mourning its loss when they careened onto the highway, the blacktopped expanse that was Julia's expertise.  The ringing of his phone was the only thing that distracted him, though only momentarily.

Gun in one hand, he slipped the phone into his other and brought it to the side of his attractive face.  "Make it quick," he shouted, trying to hear himself over car horns, screeching tires, and police sirens. 

The reply erased all thoughts of his car out of his mind. 

"Spike," he yelled over the noise, "phone!  It's Mao."

Behind the wheel, Julia heard the news and grit her teeth.  If Mao was asking for Spike instead of Vicious it would seem they were all about to have one of the worst weekends of their recent existence.  Undermining Vicious' authority as their unofficial leader was the best way to make sure they all suffered.  It was, she found herself admitting, another reason she found her previous vital attraction waning.  A quick glance in the rearview mirror at Spike's calm countenance as he hunched down to talk to Mao revealed the other reason.  Life wasn't fair, fate was a fickle bitch, but Spike Spiegel was neither.  Spike… was something else.  Perhaps he was… warm.