And for those of you who don't know, Pinot Noir is pronounced "pee-no new-are." Sort of.

Midnight Blues

6. The Sicilian

Jet sat at the head of the table eyeing his two partners as they sat down across from each other. It had been a very strange morning indeed. He had risen to a completely silent ship and had been unable to find either of the two younger hunters anywhere, and now they were sitting and eating silently, completely at peace. He had checked all of their usual lurking places, but had not been able to find a single sign of life until Faye had practically bowled him over as he was tidying up the hangar in an attempt to reach her ship and leave.

That encounter had left him confused and a little worried. From what he had understood from Faye's tearful account of the previous night, Spike had gotten himself stinking drunk and passed out. This had not been entirely surprising to Jet, having had a few such episodes himself when he was younger. What had surprised him was that Faye had actually given enough of a damn to drag his unconscious body to the bathroom and stay there the whole night to make sure he was all right.

He eyed Spike discretely as he stabbed a piece of scrambled egg with his fork. The younger man wolfed down his breakfast like he hadn't seen food in days and took a gulp of his coffee, cursing as he burned his tongue. The two had walked into the kitchen as if everything was dandy, silently sitting at the table opposite one another. There had been no childish bickering, no vicious name-calling, and not a single dirty look. Jet did not know what to make of the situation. He had been surprised to see Spike without a shirt and down right shocked to see Faye wearing Spike's jacket.

"Spike, where's your shirt?"

Spike shrugged. "No clean ones," he said around a mouthful of Faye's eggs.

Jet stared as Faye cast Spike a scandalized look and braced himself for her to inevitably throw something or storm off cursing. She sipped her coffee. Jet's jaw dropped.

"I missed something," he said cautiously. "Faye, why are you wearing Spike's jacket?"

Faye looked guiltily into her coffee. "I, uh, it was cold…"

Jet looked at her incredulously. "So you went into Spike's room and stole his jacket? You could have gotten something from your room, it's closer."

"I didn't steal it."

"That's what it's called when you take something without the owner's permission."

"He let me borrow it," she said, looking a little surprised by the fact.

Jet stared at Spike. "You let her borrow it? Of your own free will? What is going on!" He rubbed his bald head. "Spike, I think you're the one with the multiple personalities," he said exasperated.

Spike shrugged.

"Well we'll be landing on Mars in a few hours so get ready," Jet said finally, giving up any hope of understanding the sudden shift in the chemistry between his comrades.

Faye was lounging in the common room reading when the Bebop landed, the jolt sending her crashing onto the floor. "Jesus, Jet! Try landing, rather than crashing next time!" She shouted in the direction of the ships bridge. Once the ship had ceased lurching she picked herself gingerly up off the floor and managed to regain her balanced.

Leaving her magazine where it had fallen, she made her way to the bridge and watched as Jet maneuvered the Bebop towards the city. Tharsis was as massive as she remembered it being. Tall, proud buildings glittered like diamonds in the sun, catching the light and dazzling the beholder. She could see people moving about on the city's bayside boulevard, obliviously going about their daily business.

Faye shook her head. People never gave a shit about anything outside of their own puny lives.

"So what do you think, Faye?" Jet asked as his hands tapped the controls.

"Looks like the perfect place to lose yourself," she answered still gazing at the beautiful city before her. "No wonder Spike stayed so long."

Jet grunted. "We're a day ahead of schedule. Do what you have to do, ok?"

Faye nodded and turned to go. "Faye?"

"Yeah?" she replied.

"Be careful."

"Yeah."

Spike walked out of his room and adjusted his tie. He had been in the middle of a workout when Jet had crashed the Bebop into the bay that morning. There was still a bit of a bump on his head from where he had collided with the hard floor. He was going to have to teach Jet to fly one of these days.

He found Jet in the common room cleaning a massive array of weaponry that was laid out on the table before him. Spike whistled.

"Looking to fight a war, Jet?"

"It never hurts to be prepared, Spike."

Spike shook his head. "You seen Faye lately?"

Jet shook his head as he polished his gun. "She went shopping."

"With whose money?"

Jet shrugged. "She said she'd take care of it. I figure the less I know, the less opportunity I have to care."

"Well I'm going out."

Jet looked up from his gun. "Out?" he asked, taking in Spike's classy black tux for the first time. "Where are you going that you need that?"

"Oh here and there," Spike answered noncommittally as he fussed with his bow tie.

"And what are you doing out that you need such a fancy suit?" Jet asked suspiciously.

"Recon."

"JET!" Both Spike and Jet jumped. "Jet! I'm back!" Faye called as she strolled casually into the common room with several large bags in hand. "Oh, hey."

Jet picked his gun up from where he had dropped it on the floor. "That was fast," he said, annoyed.

Faye shrugged. "Yeah, well I had a bit of a run in with—"

"Don't tell me," Jet cut her off. "I don't want to know."

Faye harrumphed and plopped herself down onto the couch. "Wow, Spike, looking good. I didn't know you could pull off class."

"You might want to take notes." Spike began rummaging through one of Faye's bags. "Shit, Faye. Do you really need all this stuff?" He asked holding up and inspecting a slinky black garment at arms length.

"Hey! Hands off!" Faye snapped, snatching the article of clothing from Spike's hand.

"Whatever," Spike muttered. "Jet I'll be back." Jet nodded.

"Where are you going?" Faye asked.

Spike smirked at Jet. "Out."

Jet scowled. "Faye, I want you to go with him."

"WHAT!" They cried in unison.

"No, come on Jet!" "I don't wanna go with him!" "She'll just get in the way!" "I will not!" "Remember what happened last time?" "That was your fault!"

"QUIET!" Jet set down his weapon slowly as Spike and Faye seethed at each other from across the table. "I want you both out. I don't care if you're together or not, just don't kill anyone or each other and avoid causing too much property damage while you're at it."

Spike glared at him. "Whatever you say, Boss." Jet scowled.

"I can't go," Faye said airily.

Jet raised an eyebrow.

"My right thruster isn't working."

"Tough."

"What do you mean 'tough'?"

"You're just going to have to squeeze in with Spike."

"You've got to be kidding," Spike grumbled.

"Jet!"

Jet ignored them.

"You can't come with me looking like that," Spike said finally, lighting a cigarette.

"What's wrong with this?" Faye spluttered. Spike shot her a reproachful look. "Well when are you leaving?"

"Now."

"How am I supposed to get into something else if you're leaving now!"

"Quickly. I'm not waiting long."

With an angry scowl, Faye grabbed her bags and stalked out of the room.

"And make it something classy!" he called after her. There was a muffled yell, but he couldn't make out the words.

Spike took a drag on his cigarette. "This can only end badly," he muttered as he walked slowly to the hangar, hands deep in his pockets. The Swordfish sat peacefully, her wings folded gracefully despite looking a little worse for ware. Spike ran a hand along the smooth surface of the red mono racer. So much power in so compact and sleek a form.

"Are you two quite finished?"

Spike turned to see Faye standing behind him, hands on her hips. "That was fast—" He blinked. She was wearing what he could only guess was the slinky black thing he had pulled from one of her bags. Her hair was done up loosely in contrast to the form fitting dress she was wore, the skimpy halter's neck line dipping low and the hem cutting off high. Faye smirked.

"I thought I told you to put on something classy," he said, regaining his composure. "Too bad you didn't take those notes."

Faye scowled. "Look, I didn't ask to come with you."

Spike shrugged and climbed into the cockpit of the Swordfish, his black leather shoes flashing.

"So how are we doing this?" Faye asked, looking up at the ship apprehensively.

Spike yawned. "First you grasp the ladder with your hands and then you put one foot on the step and then the other foot on the—"

"I get it, thanks," Faye snapped as she gingerly began to climb the ladder.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

Faye scowled. "Stilettos were not made with ladders in mind." She looked into the cockpit. "There's only one seat."

"It's called a mono racer for a reason," Spike drawled. "Get in."

Faye grumbled as she climbed into the tight space and tried to squeeze in beside him. "That's not…gonna work," Spike grunted as they jostled for position. "Ow, watch it!" "Hey, careful where you put your hands!" "Watch the suit!" "That was my foot, asshole!" Spike grimaced. Comfort had obviously been sacrificed for the sake of sleekness and speed when his ship had been made. With a curse he wrapped an arm around Faye's waist and pulled her down onto his lap. She immediately began to struggle.

"I don't think so! Get your hands off me!"

"Quit your damn…wriggling, woman!" Spike grated through clenched teeth. "There's no other way!"

Faye stopped struggling and sat rigidly. "Fine," she grumbled. "But if you get any ideas…"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Spike muttered as he worked his arms around her so that he could reach the controls and tried his best to ignore the warm body sitting across his lap, the back of her dress scooping impossibly low to expose a scandalous amount of skin.

Faye tensed as he grasped the controls, his arms effectively trapping her against him. She could feel her cheeks heating as he shifted beneath her. Spike maneuvered the Swordfish onto the Bebop's deck and pushed the throttles all the way forward. The Swordfish shot off the deck and up into the air and Faye's body pressed back against Spike's chest as they accelerated upwards. Spike grimaced. Never again. Never, ever again.

"How much do you weigh, shit, my legs are going numb," Spike muttered as his feet began to tingle uncomfortably.

"That's a rude question to ask a lady," Faye snapped.

"That's obviously not a problem," Spike shot back irritably. "You're not the one who can no longer feel their lower half."

"That shouldn't be too bad, seeing as you don't have anything important down there, anyway," she retorted.

Spike ground his teeth as he sent the Swordfish into a steep, arching dive. Faye squealed, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket as the earth and the sky traded places.

"Watch the suit!" Spike shouted, forcefully removing her hands from his jacket. "This was expensive!"

"SPIKE!" Faye shrieked as the Swordfish began to plummet towards the city below, Spike having removed his hands from the controls to extricate himself from Faye's clutches. He grabbed the controls just in time to avoid slamming into an imposing black tower and spun back into the upper atmosphere. "Jesus, Spike! Watch where the hell you're going!"

"I was!" he shouted.

"You almost smashed into that building!"

"I wouldn't have if you'd just keep your damn hands to yourself!"

"I would have if you hadn't pulled that fucking stunt!"

"Stunt?" Spike laughed derisively. "You call that little dive a stunt?"

Faye spluttered angrily.

Spike cut her off, rolling the Swordfish over and dropping towards Tharsis once more. Faye clamped her mouth and eyes shut as the city and the sky fought for dominant position outside the window. The ship leveled out abruptly, the jolting ride smoothing out. Faye opened one eye. They were skimming feet above the bay towards the city, shocked people in pleasure crafts diving out of their way as they passed, a massive rooster tail following in their wake. A few minutes later they were coming to rest on top of a squat building on the outskirts of town.

"Let me out."

"Yeah, yeah, hold on," Spike muttered as he powered down the ship.

"Let me out now!" Faye shouted, flailing her arms.

"Shit, woman!" Spike shouted back, his head slamming into the seat as he attempted to avoid her elbow. The cockpit opened with a hiss and Faye scrambled gracelessly down onto the hard pavement. Spike followed a moment later, hopping out of the cockpit and landing beside her with ease. The canopy of the racer hissed shut. Faye ignored him, fiddling with her little black clutch purse.

Spike lit a cigarette as he began to walk towards the roof stairs. "Where are you taking me?" Faye asked, right behind him.

Spike paused before sauntering down the stairwell. "You make it sound like I've kidnapped you," Spike said around his smoke. "And I'm not taking you anywhere. You're tagging along," his voiced echoed up towards her.

Faye huffed as she made her way carefully down the stairs. Stilettos had not been made with stairs in mind either, it seemed. With a grimace Faye wondered if stilettos had been designed with anything in mind. When they reached the street Spike waited for her to catch up before hailing a cab. The yellow automobile shot past without even slowing down.

"Asshole," Spike muttered when the third cab had passed them by and began walking up the street, hands shoved in his pockets sullenly. "Looks like we'll be walking. Don't expect me to carry you."

"Let me try," Faye said and stuck out her thumb. The cab accelerated as it passed them. Spike rolled his eyes and continued walking.

With the sound of screeching tires two and then three cabs skidded to a stop behind him, the sound of shouting voices nearly drowned out by the blaring horns. Spike turned around. Faye was standing, with one hand on her cocked hip, the other playing with the hem of her dress, which was already scandalously short as it was, and showing a tremendous amount of leg. The three cabbies were near blows trying to win her patronage. She blew them a kiss.

"Spike," she called. "I'm having trouble deciding which one to take." A smug smile played across her painted lips.

Disgusted, Spike strode back to his female companion and dragged her into the nearest cab, the other two cabbies swearing at him profusely.

After telling the driver to take his eyes off of Faye's cleavage and put them back on the road or risk being shot, he added the name of the establishment that he had been planning to go to alone but had been forced to take this tagalong with him which had shortened his fuse considerably so don't do anything stupid, he sat back and folded his arms sulkily, staring silently out the window at the lights of the passing cars.

Faye shoved his arm playfully. "Come on, Spike. There's no need to—"

"Shut up."

"Well would you rather have walked?" Faye demanded, her anger rising.

"Yes."

"Ugh, men!" Faye flopped back into her seat and crossed her legs irritably.

Evening had just begun to creep over the city of Tharsis. The sun rode low on the horizon painting the sky with brazen reds and golds as it sank into the sea, shadows creeping towards the opposite horizon like long, dark fingers. Tense silence filled the cab as the nervous cabbie glanced uncertainly from the young man to his violet haired femme fatale in the back seat.

The man had been around the block a few times in his day and he had seen men like this before. He wondered what exactly lay in this man's past. Was he a government goon, a syndicate thug, a military brat? The woman didn't look like someone who would hang around one of those types, but one never knew with kids these days.

The cab turned a corner and slowed to a stop. Spike shoved open the door and stepped out, turning to pull Faye not so gently out of the cab. The older man collected his fair and pulled off into the deepening dusk.

Faye looked up at the glowing neon sign that buzzed faintly above the red double wooden doors. The Sicilian. She had never figured Spike for being much of a fan of Italian cuisine, but then again, she didn't know much about Spike period. She jumped as Spike slipped an arm around her waste, his hand resting at the small of her back.

"Follow my lead," he murmured as the entered the small, but surprisingly cozy little Italian restaurant. Faye would have argued, but she new better than to second-guess Spike when it came to the nuances of their work. He must have had a reason to come here. A smiling hostess led them to a table in the corner. A bizarre collection of old black and white photographs covered the walls, each in its own distinctive frame. A toothless old man smiled down at them from within his golden frame next to an immensely fat, naked woman in a large straw hat and movie star sunglasses in a frame made of worn green wood. An arbor had been attached to the ceiling from which hung imitation grape vines and little twinkling white lights.

Their table sat against the wall opposite the bar and faced the windows. A squat little candle sat in the middle casting little dancing shadows on the silverware. A single rose arched gracefully out of a tall fluted glass.

"What's going on?" Faye whispered as Spike pulled out her chair for her.

Spike shook his head minutely and smiled, putting his hand on hers and giving it a gently squeeze. Faye blinked. Spike gave her a quick glare. "Do you know what you want?"

Faye giggled. If he wanted her to play a role, she'd play it to the fullest. She nodded, biting her lip. Spike looked vaguely ill. He tore his eyes from her display and caught the attention of the hostess.

"My, my, you two must have planned ahead," the matronly woman said, smiling warmly. "Ma'am?" she turned to Faye, pencil poised.

"Oh, I think I'll have the…oh I just can't decide!" she giggled again, scanning the menu for the most expensive dishes.

"Well I'll give you a moment to think," she said, turning to Spike. "Sir?"

"New York steak, medium rare, no sauce," Spike said.

The woman chuckled. "Big meal for a handsome boy."

"A boy, she calls me! Darlene," Spike said reading her nametag. "How can you call me a boy, when you're only a girl yourself? You don't look a day over twenty five."

"And charming too! Aren't you the lucky girl?" She smiled at Faye.

Faye smiled returned the smile shyly, putting a hand to her lips.

"I'm the lucky one," Spike went on. "She's as lovely as a spring rose," he said taking Faye's hand, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand gently as he gazed into her eyes. Faye could not believe what she had heard coming out of his mouth. She plastered a sugary smile on her lips. Spike's look of adoration became slightly strained.

"Ah," The hostess began hesitantly. "I can come back…"

"Oh it's all right," Faye said brightly. "I'll have the Fillet Mignon, please." She batted her eyes at Spike across the table. His eyebrow twitched. "And a glass of wine. Pinot Noir."

"And you?"

"Gin on the rocks."

"Honey," Faye said reproachfully. "Remember what happened last time…"

Spike forced his glare into a loving smile, which still managed to hold a promise of death. "Of course, darling. I'll have a merlot, if you have any."

"If you have any, he says," Darlene chortled. "I have just the thing. Anything else?"

"No, thank you." Spike flashed a broad smile and watched her go. "Did you have to order the most expensive thing on the menu?" he whispered irritably once she was out of earshot.

Faye ignored him for a moment, trying to get a grasp on the situation. She scanned the room. Four men in dark suits sat at the other end of the restaurant talking quietly, a young couple nearby was clearly having some difficulty separating themselves from each other, their half eaten meals forgotten and cold, and an elderly man sat behind the bar, drying glasses with a white towel. One of the suits cast a furtive look in her direction. Goons.

Spike took both of her hands in his as they waited for their dinner to arrive. "See those suits by the bar?" he murmured. Faye had to admit, Spike had a flare for acting. Anyone who saw them would have thought they were simply a pair of young lovers whispering little sweet nothings to each other. She tilted her head to the side, smiling at him lazily.

"They're Red Dragon."

Faye's eyes widened. "What!" Spike shot her a silent warning and she quickly composed herself. "I thought Re…that was over," Faye whispered, tracing the lines on Spike's palm.

"So did I."

"So why are they—Ow!" Spike stepped on her foot, hard.

"Compliments from the gentlemen by the bar," It was the old man from the bar. He set a martini glass before each of them. "To the strong and the beautiful."

Faye waved to the suits at the far end of the room, flashing them a dazzling smile.

"Don't touch it," Spike hissed, eyes fixed on the two olive picks in his glass. One was a tiny red serpent, the other a snow-white tiger, its tiny jaws open in a silent roar. "This just gets better and better," he muttered. "Kindly tell the gentlemen by the bar that we are honored by their gesture, but are unable to accept these," he said, gesturing to the glasses on the table.

"Yes, sir," the older man said slowly, putting the two glasses back onto his tray and returning to the bar. The suits were whispering furiously.

"How did you know they were here?" Faye whispered nervously.

"They slipped in while you were flirting with that cab driver."

"I was no—"

Spike cut her off. "Ah, just in time," he said as Darlene set their steaming plates on the table before them. He cut a chunk from his steak and shoved it in his mouth.

Faye stared at him, aghast. "How can you eat at a time like this?"

"There's no point in worrying on an empty stomach," he said around a mouthful of steak.

"Ugh, you're disgusting."

Spike took a sip from the glass of wine that Darlene had left by his plate. He smiled. "Flatter the waitress and she'll go out of her way to make you happy."

Faye rolled her eyes as she cut daintily into her meat.

"The best meat doesn't need sauce," Spike went on, gesturing with a forkful of steak. "A good chef uses the meat's natural juices without using a sauce to keep it moist. The sauce covers the meat's natural subtle flavors." Faye stared at him, her fork poised halfway to her mouth. "A man only puts sauce on a steak to hide a poorly cooked piece of meat," he added sagely, before forking the meat into his mouth and chewing with obvious relish.

Faye blinked at him in disbelief. "Incredible. He's a closet gourmet…"

"Eat," he urged her. "The night is still young!" he said with panache, skewered a small roasted potato on his fork and popped it into his mouth.

Faye smiled despite herself. With a dry chuckle she put her fork in her mouth, relishing the flavor of the meat as it spread over her tongue.

"So why did you choose this place?" She asked sipping her wine and looking at the odd collection of photographs on the wall by their table.

Spike's jaw halted mid chew. He looked down at his plate. Faye raised a brow. She had obviously hit a nerve with her question. She changed tacks. "This an old hang out or something? A place you took girls back in the day?"

She saw pain flicker across his face. "Spike?"

"Not now, Faye," he muttered as one of the suits crossed the room in the direction of the bathrooms. "I'll be right back."

"But—"

"I'll be right back," he said firmly, pushing back his chair and following the other man through the back.

Faye threw her napkin onto the table with exasperation. The last thing she needed was for Spike to go off and get himself shot, again. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared into the back of the restaurant, concern crossing her features.

Spike sauntered into the dimly lit bathroom, ignoring the naked strongman with the world on his shoulders that hung on the door in a simple wooden frame. The man in the dark suit was already inside. Spike waited until he had finished with his business before attending to his own, flashing the man a brief smile as he washed his hands. The man did not smile back.

"What are you doing here?"

Spike looked confused. "I'm sorry, sir. You must have me confused with someone else."

"Don't give me that shit, Spiegel. Why are you on Mars?" the man snarled pulling back his jacket to show the gun tucked into his side holster.

Spike let his confused act drop. "It's nice to see you again, too, Francis," he said, drying his hands and casually slipping his hand into his pants pocket so that his jacket was pushed back to reveal his own weapon.

"What are you planning!"

"Calm down, Frankie. I'm not planning a thing."

"Don't call me that!" the man spat. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"Yeah, that was the general idea," Spike smirked slightly. "You've grown. You must be, what, twenty now?"

"Answer the question!"

"How's Denise? You are still dating her, aren't you? She was quite the firecracker."

"Shut up!"

Spike shrugged and turned for the door.

"Whose the new broad, Spiegel? Some whore you picked up on the street?"

In an instant Spike had the man pinned against the wall, the barrel of his Jericho planted firmly against his temple.

"You watch yourself, Spiegel. The Syndicates are not happy that you are still alive."

"You're in no position to make threats, Francis," Spike drawled. "Now why don't you tell me about those little olive picks you sent over, hm?"

"What olive picks?"

"Don't play games with me," Spike growled, pushing his gun harder against the younger man's temple. "Why are Red Dragon and White Tiger working together?"

"I-I don't know, I—"

"Do you remember the old days, Francis? Do you remember what we used to do to liars?" Spike could feel the beast stirring in him and howling for the younger man's blood. He clenched his teeth.

"Some-something happened," Francis stuttered. "There's another, an outside player."

"Who?"

"I don't know! I swear, I don't know!" the younger man cried, tears welling up in his dark eyes. "Please, please I don't know…"

Spike shoved him roughly against the wall, holstering his gun with disgust. "Get yourself cleaned up. If I were you, I'd get as far from the Syndicate as fast as you can."

The younger man nodded, eyes wide as Spike stalked out of the small room and straightened his jacket.

When he returned to the table he found Faye clutching her napkin in one hand and pushing some poor green beans around her plate distractedly. She looked up hurriedly when he walked up to their table, relief spreading across her tense face. He leaned down and kissed her on the check before sitting down with a grunt. She smelled faintly of lavender.

"Don't tell me you were worried," Spike scoffed.

"Ha, don't make me laugh," Faye retorted unconvincingly. She could feel the imprint of his lips on her cheek. "What about them?" she nodded towards the men by the bar and sipping from her glass.

"I don't think they'll bother us again tonight."

Faye raised a brow. "What makes you think that?"

Spike winked at her. "Intuition."

Faye snorted. "Men don't have intuition, it's a woman thing."

Spike shrugged as Francis rejoined the other men and they left the establishment.

"Told you so," Spike smirked.

Faye scowled. She wondered suddenly if Spike had ever taken Julia to this place.

Night had fallen when they left the little restaurant, streetlights casting pools of light on the dark pavement. Both of Mars' moons hung in the sky amid a myriad of tiny stars. Cars whizzed by on the street in a flurry of flashing lights as fat drops began to fall slowly from the sky. Spike hailed a cab and the two of them dove into the car to escape the sudden downpour. Soon they were headed in the direction of the Jade Dragon Kabuki Theatre.

The rain had slowed down by the time they reached the theatre, its dazzling gold and red façade glittering as lights reflected off the rivulets of water pouring from the roof. It had a three decked pagoda style roof over a large foyer lined with large red pillars. Two enormous marble lions stood at the base of the large sweeping staircase that led to the huge wooden doors, above which was mounted a magnificent jade dragon, its many fanged mouth open wide in a silent roar. Men in dark suits stood guard at the door.

Spike helped Faye out of the cab, slipped an arm around her waist and led her up the marble stairs. "Someone's been tailing us," he whispered after producing two tickets from an inside pocket and entering the decadent theatre lobby. A group of richly dressed older women began whispering furiously as they passed, casting disdainful looks in Faye's direction.

"Since when do they let her kind in here?" "I thought this was a respectful establishment!" "I think I'll have my husband complain to Mr. Tanaka." "Disgraceful!"

Faye's jaw clenched. "If you'll excuse me for a moment," she said, detaching herself from Spike's grasp.

"Faye. Faye!"

Ignoring him she walked smoothly over to the gaggle of women with a smile. "I'm sorry to bother you ladies," she oozed. "But I had the most horrible experience this morning. I'm sure you can relate," They stared at her. "I was looking in the mirror and I found a wrinkle!" she said pointing to her perfectly smooth cheek. "I was in such a dreadful panic…you all look like you could recommend a good plastic surgeon."

The tallest of the women, gasped, her paling with anger. "You little harlot!"

"I'm so sorry ladies," Spike interjected, deciding it was better not to cause a scene. "She had a little too much to drink at dinner, I'm afraid." He flashed them an apologetic smile. They did not smile back. Faye scowled at him as he dragged her away.

"What the hell are you doing!" he asked furiously.

"Did you see the look they gave us!" she replied scathingly, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

"Since when has that ever bothered you before?"

Faye huffed sulkily and pushed through the crowd towards the bar at the far end of the plush lobby. Spike followed with a resigned sigh. When he finally caught up with her, she was perched on one of the stools, her dress still somehow managing to cover her, chatting with a dark haired man sitting beside her.

"You want to buy me a drink?" she asked coyly, idly twisting a lock of hair around her finger.

"Anything you want, babe," the man replied, eyes fixed on her exposed cleavage.

"I'll have a martini. Dry," Faye said to the bartender as Spike sat down on her other side.

"What are you doing?" he muttered to her.

Faye ignored him. "So what is it that you do, Mr. Anderson?"

"Construction," the man replied, managing to tear his eyes away from her chest. "I own the company that remodeled this place last year."

"Oh, so you must be rich on top of the tall, dark and handsome," she purred.

Spike felt his jaw clench as he watched her flirt with the man. "Faye, let's go."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Faye turned to him, brows drawn together in confusion. Spike glared at her.

"This guy bothering you?" The dark haired Mr. Anderson asked, standing slowly.

"Faye, what the hell—"

"Hey, hey! Don't you talk to her like that!"

"Who the hell are you!" Spike said standing quickly and glaring at the slightly taller Anderson in the face.

"Who the hell are you!" Anderson said his voice rising.

"Boys, play nice!" Faye interjected as the two men glowered at each above over her.

"She's—we're—Faye, let's go!" Spike grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the bar leaving a stunned and angry Mr. Anderson standing over an empty barstool.

"Just what the hell are you playing at!" Spike said angrily once they had reached the relative quiet of the stairs leading up to the balcony seats. "Are you trying to attract attention?"

"You're just jealous," she huffed, crossing her arms.

Spike scoffed. "Jealous? Of Mr. Anderson?" he sneered. "You've got a big mouth."

"And you've got a bigger ego," she retorted.

A gong sounded in the lobby signifying that the theatre patrons should take their seats. Spike started up the stairs without waiting to see if Faye had followed.

"I hope we're not way up in the back," she muttered.

The second floor was as lavish as the first, large chandeliers hanging from the arched ceiling, gilded trim running along the walls. Plush red cushioned chairs sat in small clusters along the walls and another bar stood waiting by the entrance to the house.

Spike pulled Faye through one of the many doors on far wall.

"How did you get box seats?" she whispered in awe as she gazed out over the beautifully designed stage. Two chairs faced outwards.

"An old friend owed me a favor," Spike replied, seating himself as the house bellow filled with finely dressed people.

"Oh you mean you didn't steal them?"

Spike raised an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you didn't hear what those women said about me."

"Is that what this is all about?" Spike yawned, rubbing his neck.

"They looked at me like I was just some high priced hooker you dropped a little change for so you could hang me on your arm for effect!"

Spike grunted. "Well you didn't exactly give them much reason to think otherwise," he said gesturing to her choice of attire. His head snapped to the side as her hand connected with his face. He clenched his teeth, eyes watering from the sting of the blow as silence filled the tiny balcony.

"I'm leaving," Faye growled.

"No you're not." Faye started to rise. "The show hasn't even started yet!"

The lights dimmed. "Yes it has."

A man dressed in a stylized lion costume appeared on the stage as drums began to beat off in the darkness. There was a sharp crack and the lion transformed into a man in golden armor with a warrior's staff. Two sharp staccato cracks later he began to dance a beautiful and violent combination of moves that made the audience gasp in awe.

Faye pushed her way out of the room.

"Faye!" Spike grabbed her as she hurried towards the stairs to the main lobby.

"Let go of me!" she hissed trying to free herself, the two of them standing alone in the deserted second floor lobby. "I hate you!" she cried, throwing a wild punch at his face.

He caught her fist with practiced ease and wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. "Come on, Faye," he grunted. "You don't really mean that."

"Yes. I. Do!" she growled, twisting in his grasp.

Spike released her abruptly and she tumbled to the floor.

"You are way more trouble than you're worth," he muttered and walked down the stairs.

Faye flew after him. "I am? I am?" she shrieked hysterically.

"Keep it down!" he hissed at her, looking around to make sure no one had followed.

"I'm not the one who goes off to chase after ghosts!" she went on, ignoring him. "I'm not the one who abandons his friends on some stupid whim! For some, some woman!"

Spike rounded on her. "No, you're not!" he shouted back as he stalking through the main lobby. "You're the one who steals from her partners and goes and loses all their money betting on horses! You're the one who was stupid enough to get stuck with someone else's debts!" he ground his teeth, his self control slipping dangerously.

Faye lunged at him with a cry of furry. Spike caught shoulders in his hands, eyes burning into her own. Faye froze. Spike clenched his jaw.

"Very thin ice, Faye," he said quietly.

Faye's eyes widened in fear at the deadly calm in his voice.

The music from inside the house rose to a crescendo. There was a tremendous crack and then silence. Spike came back to himself with a jolt, releasing Faye as if he'd been burned. Roaring applause ripped through the tense silence like thunder.

She turned and ran out of the theatre.

"Faye!"

Faye stumbled down the dark street, clutching her purse as tears streamed down her face. She could hear Spike's footsteps as he ran after her.

"Faye stop!"

Her heel broke with a sharp snap sending her crashing to the wet pavement. "Damnit," she hissed through clenched teeth as blood began to seep from her palm.

Spike squatted beside her. "Are you all right?"

"F-fuck you!" Faye managed between sobs.

Spike ignored her as he caught her hand. He pulled the silk kerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and wrapped it carefully around her raw wounds. "Come on. I'll take you home."

"No!" she sobbed. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Faye, please," he said quietly.

Faye slumped, physically and emotionally exhausted. There were no straight lines anymore. Boundaries were being blurred, good and bad, right and wrong, everything was just one huge wasteland of gray.

"Yeah," she whispered as Phobos and Demos cast stark shadows across her tearstained face.

Spike slipped her arm around his neck and wrapped his arm around her waist as he lifted her off the ground.

"My heel broke," she mumbled tearfully.

Without a word Spike scooped her up into his arms and began to walk in the direction of the Swordfish. He cursed himself for his stupidity for leaving the Swordfish so goddamn far away from the theatre. It was a going to be a very long walk.