Lucifer's Garden

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop. Or Inuyasha. Not that Inuyasha is in this. Just letting you know.

A/N: So much to say! Where do I start! I always get so irritated with my A/Ns, because I have so much to say! But then I feel like an idiot if they're too long... Well, screw that! Long authors notes are cool! I have two things to say today.

1. Thank you guys so much for all of the reviews! 55! I'm so excited! Danielle, this chapter is dedicated to you, because of your genius use of Mr. Fong. Many thanks. I do have something to say, though. When you tell me that Spike is out of character, I'm asking if you'd please tell me where exactlyin the chapter. It doesn't really help me improve, especially in chapters set up like this one is, to know that somwhere within the fifteen pages Spike said something wrong. Infact, it's just irritating. Also consider the changes that the characters have gone through before you start screaming at me, telling me that Spike is totally OOC. He's not the same around Faye anymore guys. Come on. Think this through with me, here. But I love everyone who reviewed, snarky (yes, that is a word) or not! I appreciate the time you took, and if you have any questions, let me know. :) Luv!

2. And now for some notes on my Tharsis and how it affects the characters. The way I see it, Tharsis is like the worst of LA and NY combined. I've lived both of these places, so I consider myself pretty literate on them, and it was just a natural progression for me to combine them to make the glossy, trashy, totally materialistic Tharsis City. I'm portraying Tharsis' connection with the Dragons the way New York City was connected to the mob. Alex and Spike have kind of a John Gotti status. The Red Dragons pretty much drive the Martian economy, and the people of the planet are sort of fascinated by the men that run the show. Jude, who you meet in this chapter, has kind of a Paris Hilton-esque celebrity status, and Faye is like the common man's Cinderella, so they love her, too. While the issue of their celebrity doesn't come up all that much, it's important in understanding Jude and Alex, and is an insight to the way the city moves around them.

Sooo... you guys are all great! Enjoy!

Chapter Three:

Heatstroke Hustle

The tick tock of the clock is painful
All sane and logical
I want to tear it off the wall
I hear words and clips and phrases
I think sick like ginger ale
My stomach turns and I exhale

-Eve 6

It was another one of those hot, bright days that Mars wasn't supposed to have. But with Alex around the weather was almost never normal, and after eighteen months on Callisto, Spike was just fine with the heat. If anything, the searing warmth mixed with the heady scent of his own sweat and the aching of his muscles aided in working out whatever frustration he was feeling.

The punching bag swung as Spike's fist rammed into the sturdy black leather. The shriek of metal on metal teased a momentary wince onto his face, but then he was over it, landing a languid kick. His black training pants were beginning to stick to him, his shirt long discarded. A quick glance at the clock told him he had been training for too long considering the heat. Two hours now. He was already feeling a little dizzy, something that came along with heatstroke. But he couldn't just sit around and do nothing.

It would kill him.

He couldn't help but grunt as his other fist crashed into the punching bag. The one room of the pool house was getting muggy, the windows starting to fog up. The two sets of doors were open already; there wasn't anything more he could do. Because he wasn't going to stop. He was wired, jumpy. Another punch. The chain screamed. Spike had to work to ignore the discomfort of dark hair sticking to his forehead and neck.

Jet had told him to back off. Not get into it with either Alex or Faye. And he was probably right. The whole situation reeked of a setup. It would be stupid to overreact, or react at all, for that matter. Because whatever was happening was bad. And he wasn't here for Faye. He didn't care about Faye. She could fuck up her life if she wanted. It wasn't his concern.

Right?

Right.

A roundhouse kick. Spike had to wince against the searing sunlight pouring in from outside. It was so fucking bright it was amazing he wasn't blind. The entire room was on fucking fire. Or at least that's how it felt. The tough leather of the punching bag was getting warm. Not uncomfortably so, but it was a little unnerving, serving as a reminder of things better left forgotten.

Hazy russet eyes caught the shifting of shadows on the wall opposite, and he pretended he hadn't noticed. There were two people who would visit him, three at the most. And he was pretty damn sure he knew who was casting this particular shadow. Something like anticipation clenched his stomach. His fist slammed once more into the punching bag, harder than he had meant. It swung forward, making a neat half-arch in the air.

"Spike."

The punching bag swung back and Spike stopped it short with an outstretched palm. The impact jarred his wrist and it hurt, but he was past caring about that. He was focused on her voice, throaty and rough and carnal in the most delicate of ways. A smirk touched his lips, his breath coming in ragged drags.

"Say it again."

The request hung in the hot air for a moment. Spike could feel her eyes on him and every muscle in his body was taut under her gaze. A drop of sweat slid down his spine, soaking into the waistband of his training pants.

She humored him.

"Spike Spiegel."

He couldn't help but smile, loving the sound of his name on her lips. It had been too long.

"Faye." Short, harder to say than maybe it should have been. His voice was gravely with disuse, painfully languid. From behind him, she was laughing quietly. Spike turned his head to see her, because he couldn't stand to hear her voice and not have something real to connect it with. In some small way, he was afraid she was just another one of his dreams. Something his mind had mixed up to keep him from going crazy. On Callisto it was always Julia; maybe Mars conjured Faye up for him. But no… Faye was just as real as Spike was. Maybe even more so.

She was backlit and beautiful, leaning with practiced boredom against the doorframe. Her sundress was yellow and tight across the chest, pretend modesty as she flaunted everything she had to offer. Dark hair was clawed back into a sleek ponytail, lips arranged in a smirk to match Spike's own. She was skinnier than she had been before and for a brief moment, he wondered if Alex was starving her. But then she was pushing off the doorframe, wandering aimlessly into the large room, and his mind couldn't focus on anything past the heat and the light and the absolute arrogance in her movements. And when she spoke, it was that arrogance that dominated her tone.

"How kind of you to grace us with your presence," Faye practically spat at him, her eyes haughty under a carefully arched brow. Spike just grinned and turned to face her fully, red-brown eyes following her movements in a lazy snake towards him. The sunlight was bright on her skin, making her glow just enough to make looking at her painful.

"Only because I love you, Romany," He replied, half speaking without thinking and half genuinely interested in her reaction. Whatever hurt ran between them was no doubt deeper on her side; he wanted to see just how deep.

"Don't say shit like that, Gorgio," She replied easily, pausing halfway to Spike, her hand still resting on her hip. She inspected her nails, shooting him a sweetly venomous smile. "Didn't mommy teach you not to lie?"

Spike quirked an eyebrow, watching her face closely. But she had gotten better about her poker face. She was all arrogance and poise, looking at him like a peace of dirt. He knew her too well to believe it. "Mommy didn't teach me much of anything, Faye."

"Obviously."

The conversation, on shaky ground from the start, faltered. Faye, no more open about her discomfort around Spike, crossed her arms under her chest huffily, watching him watch her. They had never had much patience with small talk, and now that the obligatory snappy greetings were out of the way, all that remained were the questions begging to be asked.

Spike just waited. Eventually, she would crack.

A moment passed in almost awkward silence. But then Faye heaved a sigh and Spike's muscles tensed further. A little bit of nervous energy, but mostly just anticipation.

Green eyes met russet.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice was cold and seething.

Spike hesitated, watching her. "I could ask you the same question."

"Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Is this about me marrying Alex?" Faye said, snide. Spike grinned and ignored the automatic tensing of his stomach muscles.

"If that's what you want it to be about." He was proud of how fucking cool he sounded.

"Well, I'll do whatever the hell I want."

"So will I. I'm glad we've got that cleared up."

Faye's eyes dropped for a fraction of a second, but that was enough. The conversation jerked to another halt, leaving behind a steely hush. The heat was making Spike want to swoon.

"Stop playing games, Spike." Her voice was painfully soft, strained as she faltered in her resolve.

"Stop making me, Faye."

"I thought you did whatever the fuck you wanted?"

Hesitation. When Spike spoke again, it was gentle and almost earnest. "Nothing is ever the same around you."

If they had a 'moment' then, silent in the secondhand sunlight, it was over pretty damn fast. Faye had given about five seconds for his comment to sink it, and once it was under her skin, she was scoffing, moving closer still to Spike. She narrowed his eyes at him.

"It's not that easy."

Spike grinned at her and her left eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. "I never said I wanted it to be."

"This conversation is going in circles."

"Feel free to take it in a new direction."

"Get the hell out."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Do you love him?"

Faye's intake of breath was sharp, her lips parting in something that vaguely resembled shock and outrage. She was wearing rep lipstick, and the color contrasted her skin beautifully. It was her lips that Spike watched, trying hard not to think about what he had just said. He hadn't meant to bring it up as a topic of discussion; her engagement wasn't something he liked to think about, much less have a (semi)civil conversation about. Apparently, Faye wasn't in the mood for it, either.

"Fuck you, Spike." She spat with such vehemence he thought for a moment she would kill him right there. Her hands balled into fists, nails digging into the sweet flesh of her palms. Spike welcomed the gesture of absolute irritation because it resembled the woman she used to be; in some strange way, he had been expecting her to have changed completely.

In some ways, he was still sure she had.

"I'll take that as a yes." He replied easily, wiping the palms of his hands on his training pants. Spike's eyes followed the movements of his hands, desperate for anything to look at. Anything but her eyes. She was fuming by now, her muscles visibly clenching and her eyes narrowed in outrage. It wasn't until she had turned neatly on her heel that Spike realized she would walk away from him.

By the time she reached the door, Spike was two steps ahead of her.

His hand wrapped tight around her wrist and he was pulling her back, his mind not registering his actions. Faye's back hit the wall hard and Spike was right there, his hands propping him up, his arms pinning Faye under his body. Her jaw was clenched and eyes defiant, but she was shockingly still under him.

A moment passed. Her breath was hot on Spike's bare chest and it was making him a little nauseous. It was too warm to be healthy, and the two or so inches of charged air that separated them was driving him crazy. Green met brown and Spike had to smirk, because the look in her eyes was fucking classic.

"You can marry him if you want," Spike affirmed darkly. "I'm not going to stop you." The second the words left his lips he knew it was a lie, and so did she. Faye just cocked an eyebrow, letting the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

"That's good. Because you can't." That was a lie too, but Spike opted to let it go. If the absolute electricity of the air between them was any indication, he could do whatever the hell he wanted to her. In the back of his mind, he knew it was more than reciprocal. But he didn't want to face that just now.

"I'm sure," He practically growled, narrowing his eyes almost seductively. But Faye had seen it all before and knew how to play the game. Her arms were snaking around his neck and before he could react, she was pushing against him, away from the wall. Their noses were almost touching and the heat from her body combined with the tension in his chest and stomach were making him sick.

Twenty seven and more beautiful than ever.

It hardly seemed fair.

"You know," She purred, arching up against his body, "It was Alex that sent me down here to find you."

Whatever kind of spell she had been weaving on him broke in that second. At the mention of Alex's name, Spike found himself instinctively pushing Faye away, just enough to miss the tickle of cotton against his chest. But his hands were still on her hips and he couldn't quite bring himself to pull completely away.

"And why is that?" He murmured, his voice suddenly throaty.

"He's waiting for you. In his office." She gave him a less than subtle once-over. "But you should probably take a shower before you head up there." Faye's face broke out into a mostly genuine smile, and it was good to see. Spike released her then, and she stumbled back a little. She recovered quickly and was turning to go when he spoke.

"So I guess it really is just that easy."

Faye paused, resting a hand on her hip and glancing over her shoulder at him. "You wish, Cowboy." She drawled easily, lifting her left hand in a lazy farewell. The diamond flashed.

Spike watched as Faye Valentine exited, his eyes following her retreating form until she was lost to the long shadow of the house. And as he watched her slinking away, he couldn't help but wonder vaguely if maybe he had heatstroke, after all.

As Jet Black sat in his wife's bar, casually flipping through a magazine as he watched her clean glasses, he couldn't get Spike Spiegel out of his head. Their conversation that morning had been interesting to say the least, and it was a little unnerving to see his old buddy so worked up. Not that he had said anything, and you wouldn't have known it by looking at him, but Jet liked to think he knew his best friend well enough to tell.

Then again, Spike had never been easy to understand.

A glass clinked as Alyssa set it down, pausing a moment. Her back was to him, and in the bright sunlight her hair looked almost indigo. Somewhere in the background, Ed was muttering to herself about fish, poking sporadically at her Tomato. Ein was asleep by the door in a streak of sun, twitching occasionally in his sleep. It was a good kind of peace, calm without tedium. This life suited all of them just fine. But never Spike. And that, Jet decided, was his problem. He didn't appreciate domesticity.

"Hey Jet," Alyssa said, turning to him with a smile on her face. "Do you want anything?" She held up a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a glass in the other, clinking them together briefly.

"It's a little early, don't you think?" He replied, blue eyes falling to his magazine as he flipped the page. He had reached the title article, aptly named '30 Richest: The Men of Tharsis'

"We're opening in fifteen. If you want something, get it now." Jet glanced up at her and she was smirking in that beautiful way of hers, still holding the bottle.

"Sure, then."

Alyssa nodded neatly and turned back around, unscrewing the lid. Jet was patient, returning to his magazine. He turned each page of the article quickly. It was just a bunch of names and statistics, a few pages dedicated to full-page photos. There were a lot more than thirty rich men in Tharsis and he didn't know any of them, but Jet did come across some familiar names. Valois, Beeman, Thorington. Old Earth families whose sons were coming of age and snatching all of the publicity they could get. The ex-cop was actually half expecting to see Spike on the list, considering the pile of cash he had acquired during his short but very profitable second run with the Dragons. Of course, Spike's money was practically blood money, and therefore not 30-Richest eligible.

Jet couldn't say he didn't feel a stab of fatherly disgruntlement at that. After all, Spike was more handsome than the inbred Valois boys, certainly. And while the Beemans were pretty attractive, he had heard from a patron that their fortune was fading fast while Spike's just sat accumulating dust and interest. Jet was about to comment to Alyssa about it when he saw who had made the list. Made number one, in fact.

Alexander Christian King. Of the Monticello-Kings.

That son of a bitch had a fucking dynasty backing him.

"Alyssa," Jet grunted, his face twisting with distaste as he looked over Alex's glossy, full page picture. He was mid-laugh, hands tucked into his pockets, hair smooth and brushing his shoulders. His eyes were bright against a black suit shirt and purple background.

"Yeah?" She asked as she set Jet's drink down on the bar, wiping her hands on her blue apron.

"Look at this." Jet turned the magazine to face Alyssa, a little perturbed as a look of pleasant surprise crossed her face.

"Faye is in the article!" She said brightly, meeting Jet's eye and giving him a sunny, if slightly false, smile. "Check the vital stats."

As his wife turned back to wiping the counter behind the bar, Jet did as he was told. Alex's 'vital stat' questions were the same as all of the other young tycoons, but the ex-cop's interest was peaking here. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was eager to see Faye's name in print. So squinting the slightest bit, he leaned forward and read the bold text in the upper left hand corner of Alex's photo.

Vital Stats:
Name: Alexander Christian Monticello King
Age: 34
Net Worth: Estimated at more than 47 billion woolongs
Occupation: Second generation trust fund baby
Status: Engaged to former blackjack dealer Faye Valentine. The couple met last year through a mutual friend.
Family: The son of Christian Monticello King and former model Beatrice Pearson, he has two sisters. The younger, Judith, is well known on the Tharsis club scene. The older, Amelia, publicly disowned the family in '72.
Skeletons in the Closet: Alex is an infamous playboy and rumored be involved with the Red Dragon Syndicate, although his criminal record is, to date, clean.

With an almost irritated snort of air, Jet picked up the magazine and tossed it away. Alyssa, who had set to work waxing the already immaculate bar, glanced up from her work.

"Mutual friend my ass," Jet muttered, and his comment was received with warm laughter.

"It's the truth," Alyssa responded.

"Sure, but it's a little more complicated." He reached for his drink and took a sip, trying not to wince as it clawed at his throat going down.

"No one knows that, Jet. Only us and them, really. It doesn't matter how they met, anyway." A pause. Then, very carefully, "She's going to become a Monticello-King no matter what we do." Jet glanced up at his wife, who was all-too-focused on her work. "We should be supportive. We really should."

"I guess." It came out slow, impossibly bitter on Jet's tongue. He didn't like the surrender of the words, and he knew they were settling. The Black Dog never settled. Well, until now. It wasn't like he could tell Faye who she could and couldn't spend the rest of her life with.

"Did Spike take it too hard?" Alyssa said casually from down the bar, her brown eyes focused on Ed in the corner, still typing and muttering.

"I don't know."

"Didn't you talk to him?"

"Of course I did."

"What did he say?"

"That he was fine."

A split second of hesitation. Alyssa paused in her work, her dark eyes moving from Ed to Jet. Her eyebrow went up in confusion. "So he's okay?"

Jet shrugged. "That or he's getting out the rope to hang himself. Impossible to tell." Alyssa's mouth formed a pretty pink 'O' as his reply sunk in. After a moment, she heaved a sigh and shrugged, working her way towards Jet, leaving a slick bar in her wake.

"You know Jet," she said quietly as she reached him, propping her elbows on the bar and resting her chin in her hands. "I've been thinking." Her big brown eyes were earnest and absolutely breathtaking, and Jet had to take a moment to admire them.

"About what?" He asked casually, taking another sip of his drink.

"Well…" Her gaze moved past him again, presumably to Ed in the corner. "I was thinking that we could adopt Ed. You know, legally." Brown met blue and she looked so hopeful that it made his heart skip a beat.

Jet opened his mouth to speak. No sound came out.

Alyssa's eyes widened marginally, and she launched into an explanation. "Just because she's living with us already. And if something happened, and we didn't have legal jurisdiction… Well, it would be stupid. We would ask her first, of course."

"Of course," Jet echoed.

"And we would be a real family. Not just for ourselves, but legally too. Just incase something really terrible happened."

Jet was silent for a long time, just watching her. Ed was still talking to herself and Ein was still asleep, and the sunlight was so beautiful on Alyssa's face. His mind flickered to Faye for a moment, then to Spike, then out the window. Tharsis was a rough city. Dangerous, especially for a kid on her own. It would make sense. Really, it would.

When Jet spoke again, his words came slowly, deliberately.

"Sure. Let's do it."

It was a good two hours before Spike finally found his way to Alex's second office. Having a fairly limited knowledge of the house and never having been great with directions, a good amount of time had been spent wandering from room to room, asking anyone he happened across. And then once he had found the office from the previous night and Alex hadn't been there, he had started all over again.

"Oh, sorry Mr. Spiegel," They had said when he asked again, "It's eleven thirty. He'll be in the upstairs office. Just take the main stairs and keep going left. Eighth door on the right."

The eighth door on the right had been a guest bedroom. The ninth was a bathroom, the tenth completely empty. It was when he tried the eleventh door he found it.

The 'morning' office. Only for use before twelve noon, only because Alex was fucking crazy. In all honesty, it looked exactly like the 'evening' office, if painted white instead of blue. A huge window on the far wall faced east and the tennis courts, along with a good amount of the gardens. The floors were hardwood, the desk washed a slightly darker shade, all of the chairs brown leather. Alex was seated behind the desk, immaculate as always and immediately at attention as Spike entered, flashing a smile. Pretty typical, except for one thing.

Jude.

Jude was young, and Jude was beautiful, and for as long as anyone could remember, Jude had gotten everything she had ever wanted. She was Alex's younger sister, her real name was Judith, and she was every inch the baby of a sickening wealthy family. At the absolute limit of human beauty, she had a model's build, tall and impossibly slim without being bony. Pale skin and white blonde hair, the brightest blue eyes Spike had ever seen, and the almost uncanny tendency to glow silver in certain light. Now, perched neatly on Alex's desk, her legs crossed at the ankle, she was watching him and smiling the beautiful, assured smile of someone who, but for Spike, had never heard the word no.

With one exception, he had been saying no to her since her sixteenth birthday. And she worshipped him for it.

"Spike!" She exclaimed as their eyes met across the office, leaning forward ever-so-slightly. "I didn't know you were back yet!"

Spike just smiled, letting his hands slip into his pockets. The surprise was mutual; she was supposed to be finishing her freshman year at some expensive college or other. But considering that Alex's priorities did not include a full education for his eighteen year old sister, who wasn't thrilled with the work college presented as it was, he wouldn't have been surprised if Jude had never gone at all.

His job had just gotten about a million times harder.

"Hey, Spike!" Alex said from behind the desk, Spike's angle giving him a clear view of both siblings. "Took you long enough to get here." A bright smile to match his sister's.

"You're a hard man to find." Spike replied with a shrug, wandering further into the room almost reluctantly.

"Is it the whole two office thing?"

A lopsided grin. "It didn't help."

"I'm sure." Alex said, his almost smug smile firm on his lips. "Take a seat." He nodded to the guest chairs and Spike obliged, careful not to catch Jude's eye. She was watching him impassively from the desk and it reminded him of the last time they had met.

That had been a mistake. No use thinking about it now, though. Spike sank into one of the chairs, dark eyes moving back and forth between Alex and Jude. They both tilted their heads slightly to the left and it was almost creepy how alike they were.

Pure evil in the prettiest of packages.

"So Jude," Alex was saying, throwing his sister a small smile even though she couldn't see it. "Why don't you leave Spike and me to talk?"

Jude just quirked an eyebrow and smirked, shrugging as she made eye contact with Spike. "Because I want Spike to talk to me." Cool and absolutely serious.

"We can catch up later, Jude."

"But it's been so long." Was it just his imagination, or was she winking at him?

"Later, Jude." Alex cut in, giving her a little push off the desk. She laughed it off, slipping languidly onto her feet. She was easily five seven, taller in heels, and absolutely towered over the seated Spike. Her bright eyes lingered on him for a moment before they flickered to her brother.

"Faye and I are going shopping today. Can we take your car?"

Spike's stomach turned over as Faye's name slipped from Jude's lips. He watched Alex closely, trying not to focus on his own reaction.

"You both have cars of your own," He was saying, "Why can't you take those?"

A shrug from Jude as she adjusted her white lace dress, brushing out imaginary wrinkles. "Yours goes faster. And I'm sick of mine."

Alex nodded in sympathy and pulled a set of keys from his desk drawer. He tossed them to Jude and she caught them easily, hooking the ring in the crook of her finger. "Thanks bro." She said sweetly, flashing a sticky sweet smile at the two boys and turning to go. She was at the door when Alex stopped her.

"Hey, Judith?"

"Yeah?"

"If you want something newer, just let me know. Okay?"

A second passed in silence, which surprised Spike to say the least. Usually Jude was absolutely casual about these kinds of things, but he could see her muscles go taut. He couldn't see her face, but he could practically hear the gears in her mind turning.

"Sure, Alex. But I'd like to see what Bijoux gets for her birthday before I decide on anything." There was a pause, but then Jude was slipping out the door, letting it click quietly closed. The way she had said it, it was almost like she hadn't wanted a new car. Strange, considering that Jude had never been one to turn down new toys. As Spike turned his full attention back to Alex, he could see the surprise evident on his face. He was over it in a matter of seconds.

"Spike-o! Now that Jude's gone, we can get down to business."

Spike flashed a grin. "Joy." He replied almost scathingly, his half-lidded eyes hazy with distaste and the slightest bit of amusement. Alex just smiled and started routing around in his desk again. Spike had to wonder at his lack of organization.

"So Faye found you alright?"

"Yeah, I guess she did."

"She looks great, huh?"

"Sure she does."

Purple eyes met brown for a fraction of a second, but then it was back to the drawers. Spike heaved a sigh and tried not to bite his nails out of sheer awkward boredom.

"It's the hair," Alex said, beginning shuffle things around noisily. "She's got great hair."

Spike made a noncommittal noise in reply. Something between a grunt and a snort. That got him a strange look across the polished wood of the desk, probably well earned. Finally, Alex found what he was looking for. With a pleased chirp, he set it gently on the desktop, letting it bunch together as he slid it over towards Spike.

When he saw it, he had to quirk an eyebrow. Because until he saw it, glimmering quietly on Alex's desk, he had thought it was still hanging from his rearview mirror.

The crucifix.

It was Faye's and it was expensive. Spike wasn't entirely clear on where it had come from, but apparently it had been in her pocket when she was taken into surgery after a run in with the Red Dragons a year and a half ago. Jet had sort of half-given it to him, and Spike had taken damn good care of it, even cherished it in his more syrupy moments. It must have been solid platinum, set with several of the smallest amethysts he had ever seen. A few jade rosary beads were still strung on the sloppily-repaired silver chain, capturing the late morning light beautifully.

"This was around your rearview mirror." Alex stated, his voice deliciously monotone.

"I know."

"Where did you get it?"

Spike hesitated a moment. But there wasn't any use lying. "It was Faye's. I took it as a souvenir."

"Getting sentimental in your old age?"

"If that's what you want to believe." Came the smooth reply. He would let Alex make up his own mind; he didn't have the energy to argue, and it was starting to sound kind of true, anyway.

Alex was shaking his head and smiling. "What am I gonna do with you, Spike-o? Next thing I know, you'll be visiting your mother."

"Not likely."

"Whatever. It's not important. So about the crucifix."

"The crucifix."

"It's Amelia's."

Stunned silence.

"…what?"

"I said that it's Amelia's." Alex was looking a little bemused, messing with the chain. "She's had it since we were kids." Was that nostalgia in his tone? What part of Alex's childhood was worth remembering fondly Spike didn't know or care to guess. He had grown up pretty horribly; In all honesty, his parents never should have had children. Slapped around by his father and ignored completely by his mother and sister, it hadn't been until Jude was born he had had anything to hang on to. Even then, he was forced to watch his absent mother become practically obsessed with her youngest child. And Spike had a feeling that wasn't the half of it.

It was even shittier than Spike's upbringing. Which was actually saying kind of a lot.

"So how did Faye get it?" Spike asked lazily, if only because he thought that was what Alex wanted to hear.

A shrug. "Doesn't matter, really. But now that we have it, your job just got a lot easier."

"It did?"

"Absolutely."

Spike was quite for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the new information. While necklaces had proven themselves relatively useful in his line of work, knowing Alex, this would be a large scale operation. And while strangulation was definitely interesting, it wasn't particularly efficient.

"This will get you in." Alex said proudly, pulling the crucifix back towards him and splaying it in the palm of his hand.

"In where?"

Purple met russet again, and the man behind the desk smiled. "Amelia gives cheap versions of these to her proven followers. If you're wearing it, you can go wherever she goes."

So maybe it would be useful, after all.

"Once we find out where that is, of course."

A very, very white grin and a little appreciative laughter. "Well, that goes without saying. This could take a little while to plan…" A pause. "I guess I'll see you in the office at eight tomorrow?"

The office. No way. Spike had to work not to cringe.

"The office… Sure." The gossip alone would have him bleeding through the nose by the end of the day.

"It'll be just like old times, Spike-o," Alex said, grinning and standing, "Just like the golden years."

Spike stood languidly, almost surprised that Alex hadn't asked what exactly Faye had said to him. But he didn't feel like talking about it anyway, so he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to go. "Just like old times, Alex." He said quietly.

Two steps from the door, Alex stopped him.

"Spike." Alex's voice was surprisingly strong, echoing the slightest bit in the room. It was startling enough to stop the ex-cowboy in his tracks. The floorboards sqeaked underfoot.

"Yeah?"

"Stay away from my girls, alright?"

Spike had to smirk as he half-turned back to face Alex. He was bracing himself on the desk, smiling that smug smile again.

"Your girls?" Amusement tainted Spike's voice.

"Jude and Faye. Just don't get mixed up with them."

The pause between the two men was drawn out and the slightest bit tense. Somewhere down the hall, a clock struck noon. Alex was surprisingly seriouse, his eyes narrowed just enough to be intimidating.

"Sure, Alex. Whatever you say." The reply hung in the air for a long moment, and the two men never unlocked their eyes. Eventually, Spike had to look away. His hand was on the doorknob and it wasn't hard to turn. But the door was heavy and Spike was suddenly antsy, acutely aware of Alex's eyes on him. In the back of his mind, he knew that Alex watched him because he knew Spike too well to believe he was tame enough to leave Faye to the King family, or strong enough to keep saying no to Jude. But Spike had been alone for a year, and he could handle a couple more weeks.

The door shut behind him, and Spike was alone in the hallway. He looked left. Doors lined the walls. He looked right. A window overlooking the front of the house. A black sports car was squealing as it sped out of the garage.

Faye had always been a shit driver.

The corners of Spike's mouth turned up as he turned left and started slowly down the hall. The air conditioning was nice, his footsteps steady.

Alex couldn't be everywhere at once.

All bets were off.

Bijoux: This means 'Jewel' in French, but it's used here as a name. She's one of Jude's friends who you'll meet later. Not really important enough for Spike to even spare a thought on, since he knows her friends already, and doesn't particularly care for them.

A/N: At the beginning of this chapter, just as Faye is coming in, there's a line of dialogue like this:

"Spike."
"Sayit again."
"Spike Spiegel."

As I was writing this, it seemed a little familliar, and thinking back, I'm pretty sure I got the inspiration from another story on this site. I can't remember the name or the author, but I loved it too much to delete it, so whoever you are, thank you! All apologies! Thank you, everyone who read this, and i hope there wasn't anything TOO wrong with it!

Thankies and all my love!

Lucy