Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop. If I did...well, we'll save that for later. .'

Pairings: Spike x Vicious

Warnings: Rated M for graphic violence, strong language, adult content, rape, minor bondage, and very disturbing stuff. Post 'Real Folk Blues' except everyone's still alive. May contain spoilers.

Why: Because I felt like it.

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He looked over his shoulder at Vicious' unmoving form before stumbling through the doorway and down the hall. There were bodies lying face down all around him, and it took quite an effort to make his way over them. 'So this is how it's going to end...' he thought. 'Fine by me.' He wasn't sure what he was expecting, or why he was continuing forward. He was sure that this time he really was going to die. But still he staggered forward until he found sunlight. He looked down the long staircase where a group of Syndicate soldiers were standing and staring up at him, waiting. Blood was streaming from his wound, and with it Spike could feel his strength slipping away. The soldiers watching silently and disbelievingly as he slowly made his way down the staircase. But with each step he took, Spike's heart beat slower, until halfway down the stairs he stopped. He raised his hand into a mock-gun and smiled. "Bang." Then he felt himself falling through space before every thing went black. He sure knew how to make an exit.

Spike opened his eyes and looked around. The walls and ceiling were made of metal, and the light was bright in his eyes, making the details of his surroundings hard to see.

'This must be hell...' he thought to himself. There was a pack of cigarettes on the table next to him and he reached for them. He lifted the lid and scowled. Empty. Throwing the pack aside he close his eyes and smiled.

'Hell is a lot like the Bebop.'

The Bebop...

He opened his eyes again. The familiar smell of oil, sweat, Jet's bad cooking, and Faye's perfume filled his nose. He sat up slowly, the wound on his shoulder screaming in protest and threatening to re-open itself despite the bandages. Now that the light wasn't hindering his vision, Spike saw that he was sitting on the couch in what could be called the Bebop's living room.

"So, you're awake, huh? 'Bout time. You've been out for a couple of days."

Spike turned around a little to quickly, sending a bolt of pain shooting both through his shoulder and behind his left eye. Faye was standing in the doorway smoking a cigarette. No doubt one of his. He stared at it greedily, cursing to himself. Faye just smiled seductively.

"What? You want a smoke?" When she didn't get an answer, Faye walked over and sat on the table in front of Spike and dangled a cigarette in front of his face. He grabbed for it, but she was too quick for him and pulled it just out of his reach. "Not so fast, there, cowboy." She said playfully. "What are you going to give me in return?" Spike glowered at her.

"Damn it, Faye. I'm not going to play your stupid game. Just give me the damn cigarette."

She huffed and tossed the cigarette at Spike, her lip pouting a little bit.

"Spike, if this is about what I said before you left..." She stared down at her hands, unsure how to finish her sentence.

"It's not about that." Spike said shortly, lighting his cigarette. In truth, he had completely forgotten all about it. But now that she mentioned it...He looked up at her, her face riddled with embarrassment, and couldn't help but feel more than a little uncomfortable that she was sitting so close to him. After all, she was very attractive.

Images of Julia looking up at him as he held her limp and dying form flooded his brain and a pang of guilt consumed him. He quickly looked away. Faye sighed, stood up, and started walking towards the hallway.

"You look like you could use a drink."

Spike turned and saw that she had stopped and was holding up a small wad of cash. He smiled to himself, wondering faintly where the money had come from.

"My treat." She said, forcing a smile.

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He walked down the street completely unaware that he was being followed. Even if he had known, he wouldn't have cared. His mind raced as his body struggled on along the dusty streets.

Why...? How could this have happened to me? He thought to himself. The shadowy figure shifted awkwardly as if it had heard his thoughts. Catching the subtle movement from the corner of his eye, he quickly stopped and turned to look at his stalker. He grinned slightly.

"I wondered when I'd see you again, Julia".

The blonde removed her hat and gave him a fake smile.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Vicious?" She half-snarled his name as he continued to smile.

"Not long enough." He said, leaning heavily against a wall and clutching his stomach, which was bleeding profusely. She watched the blood trickle over his pale fingers. "I heard you were dead." Her smile saddened a little.

"I was supposed to be..." Offering no further explanation, she lit a cigarette and took a hit of it, then offered it to Vicious who only looked away.

"So, what do you want from me?" Vicious asked. She ignored his question.

"What happened to your stomach?" She said, trying her best to sound concerned, though she could not help the trace of delight tainting her voice. He didn't seem to notice. He merely continued to stare into space, an annoyed expression slowly spreading across his face.

"Don't waste my time." He sneered. "You didn't track me down to ask about my health." Julia sighed, her smile fading.

"You're right..." She paused and gathered her thoughts. "It's... It's about Spike. He's..." He knew what she was going to say. Spike was dead. Spike was dead because he had killed him. Vicious looked at his sword, disgusted at himself. Then he closed his eyes and prepared himself for the words he was sure he would hear. Julia was still standing there with her hands curled into fists at her side. "Vicious...he's alive."

His eyes shot open and he froze. Spike was alive? But...how? He unsheathed his sword just enough to see where the blood, Spike's blood, was gathered. He ran a finger along the blade and smeared it between two of his fingers. It was still wet.

Spike...

"Vicious?"

He regained his composure and chanced a glance in her direction. She looked worried, and one of her arms had moved to her chest protectively. She caught his gaze and made a small noise of alarm in the back of her throat as he began striding towards her. He delicately took hold of her chin in his palm. He smiled at her.

"Tell me, Julia, what makes you say that?" Julia opened her mouth to speak, but Vicious cut her off. "Spike is dead. I killed him. " He squeezed her chin harder. Her eyes began to water a little bit, and she shook her head free of his hand.

"No! You're wrong! Spike's not---" Vicious backhanded her and she hit the ground with a dull thud, her leather squeaking almost comically and it rubbed against itself.

"What did you say?" Vicious growled. He wrapped his hand around her throat and forced her to her feet. Then a thought came into his head. What if she wasn't lying? It wouldn't be the first time Spike had eluded death. "...Where is he?"

Julia just looked at him blankly, hands grabbing at his in an attempt to free herself.

"Wha..?" He squeezed a little harder.

"Where is he?" He repeated.

"I... I don't know...!" She choked. He could feel the blood struggling to pump itself through her veins, but he resisted the urge to press harder. If he wanted to find Spike, then he needed her alive...at least until she told him what he wanted to know.

"Yes you do, now tell me. I'm not going to ask you again."

"Some people picked him up, carried him to a ship, I don't..." Her voice was getting harder to understand through her gasps for air. Vicious was getting impatient.

"Who?"

"I don't know! A tall bald guy and a woman with purple hair, said her name was Faye. I'm telling the truth, I swear!"

He released his grip on her and she collapsed to the ground coughing.

"Where are they headed?"

Still coughing, Julia sat up and looked at him.

"Why? What are you going to do to him?"

Vicious gave her a malicious grin.

"What I should have done a long time ago. Now answer the question."

She looked at him a moment, scared to answer. With tears in her eyes, she spoke again.

"The man said something about Mars. That's all I know."

"Then you are of no further use to me."

With that, Vicious drew his sword and drove it through Julia's mid section. She drew in a quick breath and her last words came out gargled and weak.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to end...I wasn't supposed to die like this…." Her eyes were sad, but the tears were gone.

"You're already dead, remember?" Vicious said, his face void of any and all emotion. Then he withdrew his sword and swung it, neatly severing her head. The head rolled and came to a stop against a light pole. It gazed up at him with the same sad expression it had worn in life, and would continue to wear until the flesh decayed and fell from the bone.

He wiped his blade clean and stared at the sky, as though if he stared hard enough he'd be able to see Spike's ship racing through the sky. But of course that was impossible, he thought. After their last encounter Spike wouldn't be able to pilot the Swordfish for at least a couple days. That means that Vicious would have to work fast.

"It seems," He mused, "that my hunt for you isn't over, Spike Spiegel"

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A/N: This is my first non-crack fiction. .' I'm not sure how well it turned out, but at least the characters are somewhat believable