So,

I hope you’re healthy and happy and somewhere wonderful. If you’re not, I hope that during this new year you will be. I love you.

ssg.x.

-

Floating neither up or down
I wonder when I hit the ground
Will the earth beneath my body shake
And cast your sleeping heart awake
Could it tremble stars from moonlit skies
Could it drag a tear from your cold eyes
I live on the right side
I sleep on the left
That’s why everything’s got to be love or death
Yes, this fear’s got a hold on me

-

Spike didn’t attach any symbolism or sentiment to rain.

He didn’t liken it to washing away guilt, making new vows, or renewing old vows. He didn’t associate it with death, sadness, or sex. It rained the day Julia died but if you asked him he wouldn’t know with one hundred percent accuracy if that were true. Maybe it rained the day she died, or the day she was put into the ground. Maybe it didn’t. There wasn’t enough room in his head that day, or for several days that followed, for more than a single thought; that Julia was gone.

He wouldn’t forget last night. He wouldn’t forget the rain. Faye wore it like a gossamer skin. There was no separating one from the other so they’d remain forever entwined in his memory this way.

Last night.

-

Last night her arms were out in front of her, loosely linked around the back of his neck. They were both exhausted but determined. Their combined breaths were distorted; urged or delayed by sighs, moans, and the odd utterance of the other’s name. He reached out for her and she leaned her face against the palm of his hand as though her head was too heavy for her to hold up alone.

Faye arched her back. Whether or not it was on purpose he couldn’t know but it sent shockwaves through the length of his body and he gasped, laughing as their mouths melted into each other’s.

Spike was happy.

Not just sex happy. Love happy.

Love happy – its stupidity and sugary sentiment sent him into a fit of giggles.

Jesus, he was tired.

He groaned, relishing the smile he was able to coax from her swollen, pink lips. His hands seemed to break up into sea foam against the wall of her searing flesh. He caught a glimpse of her cat eyes burning beneath the dark tangle of her hair, through the bramble of his, and despite the heat a sudden frisson coursed through his spine.

They carefully dressed each other. She buttoned up his shirt, lightly kissing his collarbone. He drew her hands through the sleeves of her top with his own. Spike knelt on the ground outside of the open car door, water pooling around his knees as he slipped her shoes back onto her feet. Seeing that there was still no end in sight as far as the pouring rain was concerned, Spike held his open parka over her head like a canopy – or tried to -- as they made a dash from Ana’s car towards the ship. Faye ran ahead of him, practically leaping through winter’s rain and leaving puddles exploding behind her. Spike eventually gave up trying to shield her from it all and held himself back a few feet behind her, slowing to a walk just so he could watch her dance.

-

Spike woke up and in the place where Faye’s eyes were supposed to be -- closed beneath sleep-dusted lashes -- was the bundled up t-shirt and boxers she’d gone to bed with. He pulled the width of blankets she’d hogged and held onto like grim death last night over himself, sinking back into the bed.

His usual immediate panic in reaction to not finding her where he’d left her had dulled considerably since last night. She seemed herself again. He’d become familiar with a variety of different breeds of sex over the years and despite what most women probably believed, Spike Spiegel could tell the very distinct differences between ‘revenge sex’, ‘just sex’, and ‘love sex’. He wouldn’t place any bets on it but he was fairly certain that the whirlwind of events last night had included the latter.

There was a time when Spike had no qualms or prejudgements about any sort of sex as long as occasionally he was on the receiving end of it. The opportunity would arise and that was pretty much all it took to engage him. If he was totally honest with himself, he wasn’t really fond of the women he’d been with, and he liked it that way. Sex seemed spectacular back then, and he’d always attributed that to being able to keep his mind or matters of the heart from getting involved. Of course now he knew it was spectacular because he was young and inexperienced, and thus would have deemed the simple act of humping a tree as “spectacular”.

During his time in the syndicate he’d been with one hooker, because according to a number of syndicate acquaintances “you need to try it at least once”. He’d also slept with two women married to other Dragon members. He was only able to get away with those indiscretions because he did it from behind Mao Yenrai’s protective wing. One of the wives wanted it to be a regular thing but by then he’d met Julia. Even though she was involved with Vicious and at that point in time still had trouble even remembering Spike’s name, he still remained curiously faithful to her.

It was never the same after Julia. Sex was an act and Spike was no actor. Unexpected and unrehearsed, Spike and Julia consummating their would-be relationship was like someone fucking with the colour saturation of the strung-together images of his life leading up to that moment; drab images still thirsty for colour long after she was gone. While he’d come to accept that he might never have that again, every so often he couldn’t help but look for it.

His path briefly crossed with that belonging to a woman named Electra.

He believed she could bring dead butterflies back to life. He could have sworn he’d felt them brush against his lips that night, across his bare chest, like laurels tangled in her wet hair. The colours were so rich and inviting and he wanted so badly to be warm inside them. They were gone by morning, burned up by an ugly sun, and all that was left was the hangover.

The colour had gone out from both of them, maybe absorbed into her sheets, or dried up in the air. Electra looked surprised to find him in her bed. She didn’t say it out loud, but he knew that as far as that night had been concerned, she had spent it with a dead man.

A different dead man.

Spike remembers being surprised, too. He was still a little disoriented from being exposed to chemicals the night before. Through the early morning haze he made out one naked shoulder exposed to the cold air, deep violet hair striking against the white pillow beneath it.

His lips were dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth when he tried to open it. He wanted to say her name to find out if...

“Fa –“

Electra’s arm emerged from beneath the white sheet, exposing the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. He’d stopped himself. It wasn’t who he thought it was. He’d come to his senses just in time.

-

Faye was sitting gingerly on the bed beside him wearing a bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel. She seemed to be staring off into space the seconds before he tried to speak and the word “hi” came out as a croak instead. She turned and smiled brightly, “How did you sleep?”

Spike raked a hand through his hair, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Good. How ‘bout you?”

She raised her arms to the towel on her head, letting her hair fall free of it. Her bathrobe shifted, exposing the snow-white slope of one breast. Distracted, he asked “What time is it?”

“About one o’clock, I think.”

Spike’s stomach growled obscenely. “I think it’s closer to two,” he said.

Faye smirked, “You and that bottomless trashcan of yours will be thrilled to know that Jet and Ana picked up groceries yesterday and I think there’s still some stuff left.”

“Oh, you mean The Cleavers?”

Faye tossed her towel at him. “Don’t make fun. I like her,” she said.

“Come lie down for a minute,” Spike said, reaching his hand out for hers when he saw she was about to stand. She crossed her arms and shook her head, smiling.

“You can sleep a little longer, but then you should come get something to eat. We have alot to talk about before we leave.”

He watched her disappear through the door and almost couldn’t wait to follow her, maybe to the ends of the universe.

I'm the onlyone who can keep you alive.

And I'm the onlyone that cankillyou.

She was his life and life’s end in equal measure.

-

Faye padded to the kitchen area and grabbed a coffee mug from a shelf above the hot plate. She poked her head into the fridge, settling in for a long, admiring look. It had been a while since she’d gone into the refrigerator and was faced with that long-evasive thing called “choice”.

She reached for a plastic-wrapped chicken sandwich that was nearly the same size as her head.

“Where were you?”

She stood bolt upright, inadvertently striking the top of her head against the doorway of the fridge. Wincing, she turned finding herself face to face with Jet. She was mildly amused to see that he was wearing a handsome pair of dark trousers and a button-up shirt. Amused enough that she didn’t immediately notice how angry he was.

“Running late for a lunch meeting with the CEO?” she asked, turning back towards the refrigerator.

“Where were you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Jet dropped a heavy hand on her shoulder and leaned in, lowering his voice. “You lied to him and if you want your secret to stay safe you’ll answer the question before I make the mistake of assuming I’m just not talking loud enough for you to hear me.”

Faye closed the refrigerator door, glancing around him to see if anyone was there. Not anyone. Spike. Her shoulders dropped and she was suddenly too ashamed to look at Jet. “Lemme just pour some coffee and we’ll talk.”

“Fair enough. I’ll be in the hangar.”

The coffee burned her tongue on its way down and felt like it was eroding the lining of her stomach. It finally struck her how tired she was. She wondered how imminent Jet’s explosion was. Did she have time to dress before meeting him in the hangar? She didn’t take the chance.

“So where were you?” he asked again, this time more casually. As she approached he held out a cigarette for her but she shook her head, wrapping one arm around herself. If Jet could hear the violent chattering of her teeth he ignored it.

“I went to my sister’s apartment.”

“Was Ezekiel there?”

Faye took another sip of her coffee. “Of course he was there. If you didn’t know that your panties wouldn’t be in such a twist right now.” She silently berated herself for snapping the words. Anger on her part would only make him suspicious.

But for fuck’s sake – she couldn’t pinpoint the exact second that her whereabouts became an issue to Spike and Jet. When did they start to care? She remembered having to practically beg for someone to come for her when Vicious was holding her for collateral. And afterwards Spike made it more than clear that he’d only gone to settle a score with his former business associate.

”Although being stuck alone in a room with you jabbering on about nonsense for a few hours probably inflicted some measure of punishment,” he had said.

How did it get to the point where she couldn’t even be in the bathtub for more than a half hour without Spike or Jet knocking on the door and asking if she was okay?

Jet absently scraped at the metal plate below his right eye.

Now he’s going to scratch his head, Faye thought.

Jet scratched his head. “Okay, here’s the thing. Spike barely gets any sleep because he’s afraid he’s going to wake up and you’re going to be gone. As luck would have it, this morning when I got out of bed I had a look around and every appliance, computer, and dish on the ship all seemed to be intact so I think it goes without saying that Spike has no idea you left the ship last night.”

“I got back before he woke up. It was a fluke. I only lied because the opportunity happened to present itself.”

“How thoughtful,” he drawled sarcastically.

Faye couldn’t bear the way he was looking at her right now. She closed her eyes and sighed, “I just... It’s that...”

Jet placed the cigarette that had been waiting between his thumb and forefinger between his lips. It was noticeably bent from the nervous pressure he’d been putting on it. Lighting the cigarette he inhaled slow and deep, and his accusing eyes softened.

“Am I out of line here?” Jet asked.

Yes.

“Telling Spike would only hurt him,” she said. She tucked her hands deep into the pockets of her bathrobe. She could see her white breath leaving her, hanging heavily in the air.

Jet took another long drag from his cigarette then tapped it against his cybernetic arm, shaking the ashes loose. “I know your sister just died and you’re in mourning, but that’s exactly when and why you should be keeping away from someone like Ezekiel.”

“Someone like Ezekiel?”

“You know what I mean. Someone from your past. You’re vulnerable right now. You might think that slipping into something comfortable will take some of that pain away but it doesn’t work that way. You’ll just end up confusing yourself.”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking I did –“

“I’m not thinking anything. I just wanted to give you some advice, okay? From someone who might know a few more things than you.” Jet finished up his cigarette.

“If Spike wasn’t your friend, if it was just the two of us again, would you still care what I’d been up to last night?” Faye couldn’t help asking. He turned to face her, approaching her once again. Hesitantly he reached out and tugged the collar of her bathrobe up around her neck like a father bundling up his child before sending her off to school. He actually followed it up with a pat on the head, eyes lingering softly on hers for a moment.

“Get inside before you freeze to death.”

Well, there was her answer.

Without another word, Jet started walking back towards the entrance of the hangar. Faye couldn’t help but still feel the need to defend herself. Or maybe not to defend herself but to maintain at least an ounce of Jet’s respect.

“Nothing happened,” she called out unnecessarily.

Nothing happened.

A second ago Faye was afraid she’d chatter her teeth clear out of her skull, but now she was glad for the cold air. Her ears were burning. She felt hot and dizzy. She was both relieved and ashamed that neither Spike nor Jet had noticed her knuckles wrapped up in several layers of white gauze.

Something happened.

-

Quoted lyrics from White Lies’ Death. Don’t sue, please.