Guns Were Made To Kill. That Was Their Purpose. But Sometimes That Meant Something More. You Could Kill

Guns were made to kill. That was their purpose. But sometimes that meant something more. You could kill just to end a life, but sometimes you killed to save a life or lives. A tool of destruction used for protection. That was often how Spike viewed himself these days.

He was a weapon but that didn't mean he was a murderer or that he took pleasure in claiming lives.

Okay, sometimes he did.

But usually the people on the other end of his attack were bad folks who deserved what was coming to them. And there was nothing wrong with being pleased about ending their reign of terror.

It had taken a long while to find the balance. Knowing you'd done stuff that technically counts as evil - after all, taking a life even to save a life wasn't the sort of thing that got people into heaven if you bought into all that God nonsense - it was a heavy thing to carry and a bitter pill to swallow.

But he figured it was better if he played that role he'd been made for, better than someone like Ed having to kill in self defense. He had blood on his hands already - what was a few drops more?

So he chose to judge himself less harshly these days.

He'd been a beast once and had done ruthless things for the Red Dragons. Though, never had he killed any civilians even in the most destructive of his rampages. And, sure, he'd had to pay a few hospital bills here and there for folks caught in the crossfire, but that was better than needing to cover the cost of someone's funeral.

He could be cruel and terrible. He could be downright lethal when the situation called for it. But he could also take other routes. He had been trained to kill, but he had taught himself other methods of handling things. Killing had become a last resort.

His goal these days had focused more on the protection aspect. Using his strength and skills to keep his crewmates safe. Using subtlety to pull one over on bounties so there was minimal fallout from apprehending them.

It was a fine line to straddle and realistically he was the only person judging himself. Jet never told him he'd gone too far, and Jet was his moral compass. Faye would no doubt tell him he hadn't gone far enough in some instances, but she could be just as cold-hearted and vindictive as Spike at his worst. Revenge was a dish she often enjoyed serving, especially to assholes who ultimately warranted whatever pain she chose to inflict.

But if Faye were a weapon she wouldn't be a gun. She would be something more merciless. A knife in the back perhaps. An attack that was earned. She would never kill if it wasn't called for.

Jet wouldn't be a gun either. In fact Spike wasn't sure if he'd be a weapon at all. Jet gave off more of a shield vibe. Although a shield could still be used to crush someone to dust, or knock them senseless. Either way, only brutal if absolutely demanded to be.

They each had their dark side. Parts of their hearts were hardened. Portions of their personality given over to the ability to harm without significant regret. It was vital in their line of work. They dealt with scum. With liars and killers and rapists and other Bad Guys.

But that was just the worst of the lot.

All too often they had bounties that required a more delicate touch. A deeper understanding of human nature and the plight of man. That was when they needed to call on their other strengths. And that was where they truly got to shine.

Their ability to help others at their own expense or to their own peril - that was what had attracted Ed to the Bebop in the first place.

Ed, who by all rights should be the true moral compass of the crew.

But she saw more good than they could. Despite her own experience with loneliness and with nasty people, she hadn't ever had to make that final decision to end someone's life. And without that shadow on your soul, you didn't truly know the necessity of kill or be killed. Her moral guide was a star shining too bright for them to emulate. She was as yet untarnished and blessedly free of the guilt that was so much a part of each of them. Even when killing was necessary, it wasn't always easy.

Spike claimed the darkness within him. Took accountability for the damages he'd caused. He acknowledged his awful talents and strove to stay on the side of right. To be the man Jet knew he was at heart. To be the man Ed needed him to be - always trying to do better in her eyes.

He let them guide him whenever possible. And when shit got messy and people got hurt and someone needed to be taken out... That's when he let Faye point him in the right direction and unleash the monster he'd once subdued.

He was a weapon, but he wasn't a cold-blooded killer anymore. He was the last defense of good souls. And that was something he could be okay with.

Faye's stomach was twisted in knots. This was, rather unfortunately, a very familiar feeling because she'd experienced it easily dozens of times since being revived. Whether it was from being hung over or eating dog food, expired rations, mildly poisonous berries, or bad meat like today... She'd certainly put her body through some shit in attempt to satisfy hunger pangs.

Spike had zero sympathy for her, but he seldom did when she brought things on herself like this.

"I told you that meat was questionable," Spike told her through the door.

"Ughhh next time slap it out of my hand then," She moaned. An acidic burp warned her that she was about to be violently ill again. "Why am I the only one puking?"

"Ed has an iron stomach, I think. Even Ein didn't wanna touch that. Next time just take your cue from him," Spike chuckled.

"Go away if you're just gonna-" She interrupted herself to throw up.

"Well, I was gonna say..." Spike spoke louder to be heard over the noise of her vomiting. "After you ignored my warning, Jet decided he couldn't let you girls show him up. He's in the other bathroom with pretzel guts too." A pause. Faye chuckled weakly from within the confines of the stink stall. "Yeah, figured you'd appreciate knowing that - misery loves company, after all."

It wasn't often that Jet could sneak up on anyone on the Bebop. Between the metal of the vessel and his shit-stomping boots, normally everyone knew when he was approaching. Spike was especially hard to take off guard, which is why Jet was always rather proud - and amused - whenever he managed to startle his original partner.

"What are you watching?!" Jet boomed.

Spike jumped on the couch, twisting around to see Jet standing behind him, eyes fixed on the monitor screen. Color crept up Spike's neck and spilled into his cheeks. Oh ho! He was embarrassed!

But Spike had a method of dealing with embarrassment. Rather than becoming flustered and trying to divert attention elsewhere, he would just own up to whatever he was doing. Or in this case, watching.

Cheeks still pink, Spike turned back to the monitor and lazily waved for Jet to join him on the couch.

"Some rom-com," Spike said without a hint of shame. "Figured maybe I could get some ideas from this shit but... Ehh."

Jet's eyebrows shot up. "Ideas? You trying to be romantic?"

Spike scowled at him and crankily lit himself a cigarette. "It's not like I had a chance to do this kinda shit before. I didn't spend school years mooning over girls and trying to impress them on dates."

"What, you think I did?"

"You had a relationship once, buddy." Spike replied. "Not one you had to hide away and deny. You had a girl you could take out places and give presents to. If you weren't taking advantage of that, well, I could see why she'd tuck and run."

It was Jet's turn to scowl. "Get your shit straight, Spike-o. I was plenty romantic with Alisa. You don't know jack about the way things were with us so keep her name out of your mouth."

They stewed in silence for a bit. The rom-com playing in the background somehow slowly making the tension decrease. Jet knew there was no way Spike's pride would let him say another word on the matter after the way Jet had just bitten his nose off.

He sighed. "Look, this shit's not gonna help you. It's all for the humor and Faye won't get half the jokes. If anything you should be watching some teenager show or one of those will-they-or-won't-they partner shows. Alisa loved those. But I don't think you'll find your answers here." He gave Spike a considering look and lit his own cigarette. "You know the shit Faye likes. Just give her lotto tickets or take her out someplace fancy to show her off to the world."

"That's not really romantic." Spike muttered.

"You don't think she'll find it romantic that you wanna take her out someplace that'll make you broke before the dessert course?"

Spike sighed. "She'd love it but no, that doesn't say romance to me."

Jet shrugged. "You know her better than me, Spike. Why not ask Ed? She's probably got some crazy ideas you could implement."

Both men considered that notion for a moment and then shuddered.

"It's... What if she gets overwhelmed?" Spike was hesitant in voicing this concern and Jet figured he knew why.

Faye was reliable until things got good. She'd get spooked by complacency and bolt, even though she had nowhere to go and no one outside the Bebop to rely on. Neither man quite understood. She'd slink back unannounced or hail them when she wound up out of gas and out of food and adrift somewhere. She seemed to hate needing their help but she also reached out as soon as she was in need.

"She's got some...trust issues, I suppose. But, maybe that's where you can start with her. If she gets twitchy when you give her flowers, just remind her that her presence makes you happy and say something about hoping she won't go anywhere." Jet puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette while Spike crushed his butt into the ashtray on the table. "Or if she does cut and run... Don't give her shit about it when she comes back. Treat her like a feral cat - give her space to flee, offer her some treats to tempt her into staying, and be welcoming - don't hold a grudge against her if she leaves."

Spike let his head drop back into the couch. "A fucking feral cat?"

Laughing, Jet shrugged. "Hey I've seen the claw marks when you're working out. I don't think I'm too off base with that comparison."

"All right. Be sweet to her. Don't be sour even if she drags my heart around. Got it."

Jet stared at the monitor for a few minutes without really seeing the antics of the characters on the screen. Memories of Alisa danced in his mind.

"You can be the most romantic fool in the world, but if you don't give her room to be comfortable, she'll never be happy. Faye doesn't do well with emotional pressure. Just keep it light and I think you'll be fine. And... You know she wouldn't hurt you on purpose. But say she does. Hell, at some point it's inevitable that you'll hurt each other. You'll make each other mad or sad or both. Still, Spike ...some gals are worth a little pain. Faye's a freaking handful and I don't envy you figuring out her neuroses one bit, but if she makes you happy..."

"She makes me feel every emotion. Sometimes all at once." Spike looked distracted, a small smile played at his lips. "I thought I knew what it was to be alive but every day she shows me more and more."

Both men jumped when Faye abruptly launched over the back of the couch and plopped herself down onto the cushion between them. She had a smug look on her face.

"Fuck! Can't either of you make noise when you move?" Spike whined.

"How long were you lurking behind us?" Jet asked worriedly.

Faye took his cigarette, nearly spent and not worth fighting over, and smirked at him. "I'm a fucking handful, Jet? Like either of you can talk! Who gets all bent out of shape when I put the dishes away wrong? Who gets upset if I don't hang the towels in the proper order on the line outside? Who gets pissy if I change the station from blues because it's driving me to tears?!"

"There's a system to the laundry and if you don't put the dishes away right there isn't space for it all! We have limited cupboard capacity!"

Faye rolled her eyes, stubbed out the cigarette, and turned to Spike who had been quiet since his initial outburst after she startled them. She placed a hand familiarly on his leg, above his knee, and squeezed. To Jet's surprise, Spike jumped again. Wait ...was he ticklish?!

"C'mon, cowboy. I wanna show you more about living... really make you feel alive... Let's leave Jet to his rom-com guilty pleasures." She murmured enticingly.

"Hey!" Jet shouted as they got up from the couch. "I wasn't! This isn't my type of show!"

Faye, following Spike, grinned over her shoulder at him. "Yeah yeah yeah," She agreed, glancing back briefly at Spike who didn't notice because he was still walking away. "There's a good noir movie on 183. It's got your favorite actor as the honorable private eye. Bet it's barely twenty minutes in. You can probably catch the scene at the opium den still!" With a wink, she scurried away after Spike, immediately running her hands up his sides once she caught up.

Shaking his head at his oddball partners, Jet found the remote and flipped through to find the movie Faye had recommended. Mournful music played as a solitary figure in a sodden trenchcoat made his way down a dark alley. Ahh yes. This was much more to his liking. Faye was a lot of things but in some ways she sure did have their number.

He chuckled to himself. Spike's fears weren't unfounded but Jet had a feeling that Faye was gonna surprise him in the long run. Good for them both, honestly. Spike had a giving heart that he'd tried to bury for years, so it was healthy that he wanted to express his feelings now. And Faye had been let down or taken advantage of enough to be bitter and distrustful, but she was willing to put her heart on the line and Jet knew Spike wasn't about to play with that delicate organ.

Maybe one day he himself would find someone to love, to protect, to trust with his fears and his hopes and the painful pieces of his past. It wasn't a pressing concern. He planned to live a long, full life and there was plenty of time left to meet a little honey he could sweep off her feet and who'd make him feel alive.

All good things in time, after all. Or was it all things in good time?

Whatever.

Good things were worth the wait.

"I don't like this, Faye. I don't fit in here." Spike snarled under his breath. Uncomfortable as he felt, he wasn't about to cause a scene and piss her off. Tonight was supposed to be about her. Of course, he should have guessed something was afoot when she came out of the washroom dressed to the nines. "You could have at least told me to dress up."

She was in a shimmery green sheath dress with a pair of dangerously high slits on the sides and heels that seemed impossible to walk in yet she managed with ease. Meanwhile he was in his usual suit which was nowhere near fancy enough for this place. The man at the door had even tried to make him put on a different jacket until Spike's hard look had sent him scurrying away.

Faye looked at him steadily over the drinks and the candle on the table. "Do you even own a fancy suit? I've seen Jet's, I haven't seen you clean up past this. Anyway I prefer you as you are." She gave him an impish grin. "And I don't want to fit in. I want to stand out."

Rising from her seat, she picked up her wine and drained her glass, making a face immediately afterwards. Spike wasn't even sure why she'd ordered something so dry, especially when he knew she didn't like any wines. He noticed a few people at nearby tables making faces of their own at her undignified chugging of the expensive vintage.

Faye came around the table and pulled his chair sideways so his legs were no longer under the tablecloth. She planted one knee between his and leaned in to grab his tie in her left hand while picking up his whiskey, neat, in her other. Spike found himself frozen. There was a furor building around them as the high society folks glared at their table.

Bewitching green eyes - sometimes jade, sometimes emerald, always a treasure - held his gaze so he couldn't glance around. Not that he wanted to. Fuck the people getting all huffy - he only cared about making one person happy here... And if she brought him here to stand out...

He reached up and took his drink back from her before she could consume it herself. Her eyes sparkled and her lips spread into a sly smile. Her look made him feel alive - he was no longer a man on an uncomfortable date, now he was her partner in crime. Where they went, trouble would follow.

Spike drained his drink and set it aside carelessly. He wasn't even sure if he'd managed to set it on the table or dropped it on the floor. His hands had found her hips and she was leaning backwards now, pulling his upper body along by the firm grip on his loose tie, and he willingly went with the motion. Engaging his leg muscles, he rose using just those as his arms were preoccupied with wrapping around her waist and his chest was striving to press against hers.

He found his feet and drew her up from between his legs to stand tall before him. The grumbling from the crowd was growing in volume, but Faye only trailed her hand from his tie to caress the back of his neck, twirling some of the longer pieces there, as she snapped the fingers of her other hand before bringing that to rest against his chest, over his heart.

The band began to play, apparently at her signal, and Spike wondered how treating her to a birthday dinner had turned into the night being a surprise for him. He certainly wasn't expecting any of this. She pinched his nipple through his shirt. "Dance with me, Spike," She demanded.

He brought his face close to hers, brushing cheek to cheek as he spoke in a murmur next to her ear, his lips a whisper against her lobes. "Why Miss Valentine, whatever are you up to?" But dance with her he would. He could never resist a chance to parade her across the floor, to sweep her off her feet and into his arms.

Her hand on his neck had climbed into his hair fully but her other hand that had been against his chest had found it's way underneath his arm so she could... Yup, grope his ass right in front of everyone dining. His own hands slid from her hips so he could use both to cup her ass in retaliation.

"For tonight you should call me Mrs. Foster." She pulled back enough to look him in the eye, a wicked smile on her face. "We snuck in under someone else's reservation. I had Ed stall the real deal for a bit with all red lights on their drive to dinner. Then I convinced the band to play for me when you ran off to freak out in the bathroom." She continued to toy with his hair but her hand had risen from his ass to stroke up and down his back as they danced, intimately close.

"I wasn't freaking out." He replied immediately, too defensively. He scowled down at her and she darted up to kiss his mouth quickly, too quickly for him to really get into it.

"The Fosters should be here in a few minutes. There's probably gonna be a scene, but I know you brought your gun and obviously I've got mine. Jet's out by the valet station to keep them from escaping back the way they'll be coming in."

She had her gun? He felt his heartbeat quicken. "What kind of a birthday party are you throwing for yourself?" He frowned momentarily and then his face cleared. He kept their movements fluid, if a bit raunchy for the audience they currently had. "Are we on a bounty hunt right now?"

Color bloomed on her cheeks but her eyes stayed on his face. "I wanted to see how far you'd let me go. How much you'd put up with. I know you hate these haughty people and these hoity toity restaurants."

Well, well, well. He should have known. Always pushing, always seeking assurance. Faye didn't give a shit about anyone but the crew of the Bebop, and she hated that they knew her weakness was... Them. She still worried she wasn't worth fighting for, or in this case going through bullshit he found unpleasant just to see her smile.

"You didn't have to stage all this, Faye," He told her quietly. The music kept playing but he drew them to stop and shifted his hands from where they'd been - most recently creeping down her thighs to hike up the skirt of her dress - to grip her hips securely. He knew she found it both a turn on and a comfort. "Even if it wasn't your birthday, I'd take you to a place like this without the safety net of an opportunity for a bounty. I'd put up with all the crotchety angry eyed old bats on the planet. You're a handful, but you're my handful," He squeezed for emphasis and watched with pride as she gave a gasp of pleasure.

Her eyes were positively glittering at him. "Wanna dine and dash?"

He chuckled. "We started dancing before the food arrived-"

She shook her head, grinning widely at him. "Let's take the plates and go. We can call Jet and he can grab the Fosters when they arrive. Let them deal with the fallout from this on top of that,"

"You really wanna ensure those folks make a bad impression hey?"

"Fuck all these rich bitches. And the Fosters have a bounty because of a bunch of white collar shit, they deserve to have a stain on their name. If their prissy friends all hear rumors how they were being lewd and then ran out on a bill before being arrested for racketeering... I say that's all in good fun."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He asked, untangling from her to take one of her hands and lead her back to their table. Before she could grab her dinner plate which had been deposited on the table along with his while they danced, he wrapped his arms around her and dipped her as he kissed her deeply. He didn't stop until he could hear the other diners shouting over the band, and even then only because they desperately needed to breathe air after that kiss.

He couldn't get enough of this devious woman. Faye was simply gorgeous in her shimmery dress, her hair disheveled though not as bad as she'd no doubt made his, her chest heaving and sweat on her skin. She kept shooting him burning looks as they made to grab their dinners, and also as they raced through the restaurant, choosing to exit via the kitchen.

They burst out into the side alley from the kitchen exit, laughing and nearly falling over each other, finally making it around the corner and pausing to listen for any sounds of pursuit. But aside from the sounds of the city, they couldn't hear a thing.

Spike had one hand hidden behind his back. He tilted his plate in her direction and she took it with a bemused look as he used his freed up hand to grab his comm out of his pocket.

"Yo Jet, can you handle the Fosters?"

Jet's face was confused on the screen. "Those pretentious fools? In my sleep!" Then he seemed to realize his partners were up to no good. "Hey now, you two stay outta-" Spike turned off his comm before Jet could finish talking and stashed it back in his pocket.

With a flourish, he pulled a plate of chocolate cake he'd grabbed in their hasty escape from behind his back. "Happy birthday, Faye. Trade ya for my dinner back,"

She handed him his plate with a throaty laugh, taking the cake plate in the hand that wasn't holding her own dinner plate. "It's my party, Spike, and this'll do for now... But there's a different dessert I want on the menu tonight."

There it was. Confidence in her eyes. Desire in her smile. This was the Faye he liked to stir to life. He hated that she'd had doubts, but she was getting better about that. He'd keep reminding her. She might make life difficult on purpose just to test his patience and his limits, but eventually she'd realize that there was no limit to what he'd put up with for her. After all, she was the one constantly confirming that he himself mattered. That happiness was something he deserved. That he was worth the love she gave him.

He eagerly polished off his plate then took back the cake so she could shovel her own dinner into her mouth with her hands. If the conceited assholes inside could only see them now...

Spike stole a few bites of the cake before trading her for her empty dinner plate. He tossed both their dinner plates aside and barely restrained himself from kissing the frosting right off her lovely mouth. She was gonna get that other dessert she wanted, but not here in this alley. No, he had made one very important reservation while she'd set up their dinner plans.

"Ready to roll? Got us a suite at the hotel next to that racino you love so much,"

She licked her lips, which did nothing to clean the frosting away. Sometimes she was too cute.

Offering him her hand, she let him pull her up from the squat she'd been in while they ate. Eyes flashing with passion, she blew him a kiss and then took off down the alley.

"C'mon cowboy! I'll race ya!"

"You know, for someone who supposedly 'doesn't do PDA'... you're awfully demonstrative on the ship," Faye noted. She gave a soft moan as Spike squeezed her heels. He'd pulled the chair around next to the end of the couch so he could sit there to massage her feet while she lay semi-reclined on the couch.

Spike glanced up at her and then looked around the room at their comrades. Jet, sitting on the platform between the two levels of stairs leading to the round door and eating a bowl of ramen. Radical Edward who was sitting crosslegged on the floor busily involved with her computer, and Ein passed out next to her kicking his paws in puppy slumber. Spike looked back at Faye with a shit-eating grin.

"They're not the general public, they're family." He told her.

"Gee thanks," Jet muttered dryly. Normally a remark like that would make the older man flush and stammer - sentimental talk was still exciting new terrain for them all - but he'd stumbled across Spike and Faye getting a little too demonstrative quite a few times now.

Spike shot him a 'sorry not sorry' look.

Ed pulled her goggles down to hang around her neck and gave Faye a devious look. "Oh sister, sweet sister, considering you waited the better part of a year to say anything about it, you sure ain't complaining," Ed teased. Faye stuck her tongue out at the hacker.

Hands stroking masterfully up her legs distracted her from an immature battle of faces with Ed. Faye closed her eyes to avoid seeing the cocky grin she was sure had spread across Spike's face as he steadily worked his way up from her ankles to her calves. Sure enough, she could hear it in his voice when he spoke again.

"Anyway, I figure it's my fault your feet are so swollen, least I can do is rub 'em."

She opened her eyes again and his expression changed from cocksure to something so tender it made her wildly unstable emotions veer all over the place.

"You lunkhead," She murmured affectionately.

"Your lunkhead," Spike replied. "And you love it." He leaned over to kiss his way from her ankle to her knee as he continued gently but firmly compressing his hands along her calves.

"Ohhh damn straight I do," Faye purred.

"Keep it PG, dammit!" Jet barked at them. Ed was cackling away, leaning onto Ein which startled him awake. "No family wants to see all that!"

She likes it when he takes her someplace fancy. It's fun to dress up and have him show her off on the dance floor. But she knows he isn't exactly comfortable in that scene and honestly neither is she. He indulges her though and it warms her heart.

Better is when he takes her off the grid. There are places he knows everywhere - hidden places only the locals know about. Those are her favorite dates. When he takes her along a washed out road to sit on someone's open air porch and wait for a family style dinner with some down to earth (or wherever) good people.

They eat with their hands and she always gets sauce on her face or on her clothes or both. She never even minds the stains she finds later. After food, they join their benefactors and clap for the musicians who appear in the street. Their music heralds the start of a night of boisterous activity and a whirlwind of adventure.

She'll lose her shoes or purse or something by the end of the night. He'll carry her or they'll stagger side by side. It isn't what most folk would consider romantic but Faye has never truly cared what other folk think anyway. It's his way of sharing the world he once knew with her - the parts safe to touch, still in existence - and she treasures these dates most of all.