Lucifer's Garden

A/N: So we're a few days early this time! Yay! It would have been up sooner, but I decided, hey, maybe I'll actually focus on school for once! So I did, and I intend to do it for the rest of the year up 'til the end of June. Updates could be slow but I'll do my absolute best. I don't like this chapter much; it's another one of those damn transitional chapters. Keep in mind that by the end of the last scene, it's late July/early August.

Disclaimer: The easter bunny left me a tiara, some peeps, and a pound of pink bon-bons. No Cowboy Bebop. :( I guess there's always next year!

Special Thanks: Thanks much to the people who reviewed last chapter! I appreciate in immensly. Space raider, Goshikku Seirei, Susy, anonymous, zottie, Moody Maud, Crimson Cape, theevilashleyness, CrAzy-Fan-Fic-Addict, seal-chan, Oyuki, H TO THE ISO, BunnWw, Sealeena, and my two coolsies My Space buddies:D

Chapter Seven:

Summertime Samba

Don't get mad if I'm laughing
Blame the caffeine for all the 5 am phone calls
I haven't slept a single night in over a month
And not even once did you start to make sense to me

-Hot Hot Heat

It was twelve hours (give or take) after Spike slunk out of Faye's room that Alex caught wind of his return and, apparently, his failure to dispose of Amelia. The summons this time came courtesy of Jude.

He had been sleeping. It was the first time in a long time, actually, and Spike found it was actually nice. But Jude had a bad habit of wreaking peace in the quietest of ways, and she took advantage of this remarkable talent often. Today, it was his turn.

"Spike." The mattress compressed as she slipped easily on the bed next to him, blue eyes half-lidded and bright. Spike had heard the door open and, in some dark corner of his mind, hoped it was Faye. Obviously it wasn't. Minimal disappointment.

"Jude." He all but grunted, cracking his eyelids to get a look at her. Her hair hung around her face in a platinum cloud, catching the light lucidly. "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged prettily, blinking slowly. It was irritating; she acted like she knew his every thought. "Just came to see you." She poured herself down to lay beside him.

"Why?"

"Because."

Spike knew Alex had sent her when that was the only reason she could come up with. Although, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that that was all the reason she needed. "What did Alex send you to tell me?"

Jude smiled and inched closer. "He wants to see you in his office."

Crap.

With a groan and a sigh Spike heaved himself out of bed, beginning a search for a shirt. He heard Jude's breath catch, but didn't bother glancing over his shoulder to see what was wrong. He'd find out soon enough.

"Spike, what happened?"

"I fell down some stairs." He lied easily. The bruises across his back and chest were beginning to turn purple and yellow. They looked nasty but, as Spike had discovered the previous night, didn't hurt so bad. Or maybe he had just been distracted.

Jude wasn't buying it. "You never tell me anything. No one ever tells me anything." She sighed, exasperated, and flipped onto her stomach so she could bury her face in the pillow. Spike shot her a look. He pulled on a fresh shirt, lean fingers dancing up the buttons. A smirk slipped across his features. If only she knew.

"The blue office, right?"

"Yeah." Jude said into the pillow. Her muffled voice sounded dejected. "The blue office."

With a casual wave goodbye Spike was off, circumnavigating the pool and cutting across the lawn. For the first time since Spike had arrived from Callisto, Alex had left the climate control guys to do their own thing. It was warm still, but not muggy in the least. A nice breeze was going. It was almost a shame to go inside, but go inside Spike did. He found the appropriate office easily enough and, in a moment of reckless courage, strolled on in.

Alex, of course, was expecting him. He was leaning against that desk of his, an old book in his hands. Disinterested, he thumbed through it. When he heard the door open and close, violet eyes glanced up idly. A patronizing little smile appeared on his face.

"Spike. Sit down."

He did as he was told. Alex went back to his book, letting the hush dominate for a moment. Then, all at once, he snapped the book closed and tossed it lightly to his desk. The thud of leather on wood resounded.

"You sent Jude to get me." A statement.

Amusement made violet eyes sparkle. "You're sure catching on fast, Spike-o. I've always admired that about you."

"Can we just get this over with?"

Alex looked almost surprised that Spike would rather get down to business. "Sure. You didn't do what I asked you to."

A shrug. "I told you I couldn't take out an establishment in one night. You can't blame me for failing to do the impossible."

Alex reached behind him and pulled a gun around on the wood, setting it neatly on the desktop beside him. It was Spike's Jericho. "Amelia sent this back today. The clip is empty."

Spike reached for the gun but a glance from Alex made his muscles freeze in mid motion, purple eyes half lidded and so dangerous they made even Spike's blood run cold. "I want you to know something, Spike-o." He said, his voice low. Spike eased back in his chair, a cocked eyebrow letting the other man know he was listening.

"Failure is cute in your twenties, Spike." Alex began concisely, crossing his arms across his chest and sizing him up. "You're handsome as all hell, up-and-coming, got real talent. People don't care if you fuck up because there's always next time. You had pull in your twenties, you had charm." A pause and it was excruciating. "How old are you now, Spike? Thirty-two?"

"Thirty-one." A half-hearted correction.

"Same fucking difference. You've peaked, Spike. It's over. Amber is dead and Amelia isn't. You're starting to look incompetent."

"I was perfectly competent, Alex. She was ready for competent." Spike defended himself languidly. He didn't care, anyway.

Alex slid away from the desk, crossing the room to the window. He spoke with his back turned. "Thirty-one. Two packs a day. Good shape. Considering your profession, how long do you give yourself to live?"

"Ten years tops." An honest answer, although it sounded like shit when he put it like that. Alex turned to Spike slowly, thoughtfully. Purple eyes burrowed into brown, searching and coming up with nothing.

"How long are you going to wait, Spike? I'm not going to choose for you."

"I've never asked you to. I've never asked for any of this."

"Well, you have it. And you have to choose one way or the other. Ten years?"

"Ten years." What an ugly confirmation.

Spike knew as a look crossed Alex's face, a certain look he'd seen a million times before, that he would be merciful today, just like he'd been merciful when Amber had died. Or maybe he knew, in his heart of hearts, that without Spike he was nothing. "We'll start planning a large-scale operation tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off. And just for good measure, stay out of my way."

With a chuckle and an arrogant smirk, Spike stood sloppily, cramming his hands into his pockets. Fingers curled around the crucifix that lurked there. "Sure. Office at eight?"

"Office at eight."

"See you there."

"Hey, Spike-o?"

Spike stopped halfway to the door and glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Are you fucking Faye?" Neat, short, a shot to the heart. Spike was speechless, letting the panic wash over him and ebb away before he even thought about what to say. He knew. Of course he knew. This was his house, Faye was his fiancée. She'd probably told him. He'd probably known it would happen all along. He was in a good mood today which was a relief, but Spike recognized that this could get nasty. In a way though, it was good. Because it was only a one-time thing, or maybe two. It'd be good to have a concrete reason to stop. Not that he didn't have one already.

Alex let the silence drag on for what must have been an eternity. Then he burst out laughing, almost doubled over with mirth. "I'm just kidding." He said between gasps of air and barks of laughter. "God, I wish you could've seen your face…" Another gasp. "Fucking classic…" Laughter. Then Alex composed himself, surprisingly quickly, actually. "I know you wouldn't sleep with Faye. You're smarter than that. But forget about the office tomorrow."

Spike swallowed hard, trying to fight the feeling that this would be worse than the office. "What?"

A grin lit up the room. "I want you to help us pick out Faye's wedding dress. You've got good taste. We'll leave at noon, grab some lunch, then start shopping. Jude's coming, and those two old people, too."

"Jet and Alyssa?" This was very grave, indeed.

"Yeah. Those ones. So plan on it. Noon tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay, Alex. Whatever you say." Spike got out of there as fast as he could, shutting the door firmly to block out any more of Alex's great ideas. Spike wasn't the most proactive of guys, but he would've killed to get out of taking Faye wedding dress shopping. If only Alex had given him that option…

Spike wound his way through the house, finding himself in the entry hall. As he turned to head out the front door, a voice rang out.

"Spike." His name. He was instantly at attention, knew it was Faye. Her voice floated down from the stairs she stood on, halfway to the second floor and gripping tight to the banister. Her hair floated dark around her elbows, her legs long and flawless in cutoff shorts. Spike wanted her.

"Hey there, Faye." He said causally, turning to face her. She was smiling, a pretty, almost ferocious smile that was oddly endearing.

"Got a few hours?" Faye said. She began down the stairs, one step at a time, in no hurry.

"Only if I get to spend them with you."

She laughed gently, holding out her free hand to him. By the time he took it, he had already given up hope that this would be the last time.

The day dripped lazily away. Dust motes and steam ran easy laps in a stream of light that filtered in through the window and hit a spot on the tile floor pointedly. Faye's fingers dug into her scalp, willing the dregs of the conditioner away. The water beat a steady rhythm on her back and she loved it, always had. It was good to wash the day away, necessary to wash the smell off of her.

Dinner: Two hours and counting.

The knobs squealed as Faye turned them sharply, cutting the water. Out she stepped, wrapping a towel tightly around her body. The bathroom was steamy. Crossing easily to the mirror, Faye wiped the condensation impatiently away. The woman staring back wasn't her, but she had gotten used to that. Hands grabbed at the first hairbrush she could find and began ripping it through long strands of hair. She wrinkled her nose; she could smell Spike all over her. Her skin, her hair, the room around her. Everything reeked of him and his stupid cigarettes. The second Alex took Faye's arm he would know.

She didn't even want to think about what he'd do when he found out. What she would be forced to give up just because she'd been a little stupid.

Water pooled at her feet. The brush dragged through her hair. One stroke, two. Green eyes fell on scissors in the slightly open drawer. She paused halfway to the ends of her hair. Carefully, she reached into the drawer and pulled them out. Green eyes flitted to the face in the mirror, some woman she had never met, wouldn't want to if given the chance. It'd be easy, it'd be so easy to just do it. And then it would be better. It really would.

Faye cut the air with two test snips. Then she finished brushing her hair, set down the hairbrush, and began.

She had always liked her hair short, anyway.

They moved in a pack. Alex and Jude in the front (only they knew where the hell to go) then Faye. Alyssa and Jet strolled behind her like the good buffers they were, and Spike lagged behind. Faye didn't know why he of all people would come on the quest for a wedding dress, but just over twenty four hours after he had collapsed on her floor, he was looking chipper and, unless she was mistaken, highly amused.

"I still can't believe you cut your hair. Just like that!" Alex was moaning. Faye had always been good at ignoring people. "It looked so good long. We should've talked this over, Faye, really, and now it's all asymmetrical…" It'd figure that Alex would be upset about the haircut. The long, layered look had been a brainchild of his. But with her hair back in its short, unusual bob that had characterized the Bebop days, Faye was infinitely more comfortable with the whole situation.

The hoard of Monticello-Kings walked on, passing ritzy shops and outdoor cafes. This part of town smelled of new clothes and fifteen woolong cappuccinos; Faye loved it despite herself, and Alex knew it if the indulgent taking of her hand was any indication. "We'll come shopping here next week if you want. Anything you want if you'll fix your god damn hair." Spike was looking on with interest. Faye just shrugged.

"We'll see."

There was laughter towards the back of the group. Spike no doubt. Alex smiled dangerously down at her, managing to make the sinister gesture beautiful. He pulled her, and the rest followed, through an open door. All at once Faye was visually hit by a wall of chiffon.

A shudder ran up her spine.

An entire boutique full of wedding gowns.

"Mr. King! Miss Valentine!" A dapper man practically jumped them, shoving flutes of glistening champagne into their hands. "It's delightful to see you. Miss Judith, Mr. Spiegel." Nods of recognition. Faye didn't ask. "If you'll just take a seat," He gestured to a sunny, circular room just beyond a cream brocade curtain. "we'll start bringing in some choices."

Everyone was ushered neatly into the room. Jet, Alyssa, and Spike took seats on the plush sofa that formed a half circle at the wall. Jude stood in a stream of sunlight, picking through veils. Alex steered Faye, and unwilling participant, to a raised platform in the center of the room. She stepped up, reluctant and embarrassed, the polished marble cool on her now bare feet.

A moment passed in uncomfortable silence. Then came the dresses. Hoards of them, enough to make even Spike's eyebrows lift quizzically. Alyssa let out a surprised 'hmmph', Jet choked on his own spit. Alex and Jude, used to an excess of everything, were completely unfazed.

"Alright, pumpkin," Alex said a little too sweetly as two sharply dressed clerks hauled the gowns to a large dressing room on the wall opposite the couch. "You try on each dress, then come out and show us, okay?"

Faye took a hearty gulp of her drink and nodded.

Dress one.

Faye stood, uncomfortable, on the marble platform, a monster in a horrible gown. Spike, Alyssa, and Jet looked horrified, Jude looked interested, and Alex did laps around her, considering.

Spike: (deadpan) You look like a yeti.

Alex: Next dress.

Dress two.

Alyssa: I like this one.

Jet: It's nice. A little…

Spike: Grotesque?

Jet: (mortified) I was thinking busy.

Alex: Next dress.

Dress Ten.

Jet: (uncomfortable clearing of throat)

Alyssa: (Swallowing hard) That's… interesting.

Jude: I like it.

Spike: You would.

Alex: You look like a whore, Faye. Next dress.

Dress twenty-something.

Alex: There's something off about this one.

Jude: It's the color. Too beige.

Spike: It should be black.

Awkward silence gripped the room. The man who'd greeted them placed a shocked hand to his heart. Faye grimaced and knocked back a fresh glass of champagne. She turned around and shuffled back to her dressing room.

By the end of the day, she hoped to be wasted.

Dress thirty-ish.

For a long time, Faye just stood behind the curtain in the safety of her dressing room. She was breathless. She couldn't do anything but stare at herself in the mirror, pose occasionally, and let the tears of shock and awe well in her eyes. Faye didn't want to go out, didn't want the vultures to rip apart her perfect dress fantasy. Because this was, without a doubt, the perfect dress.

The bodice was satin and tight, perfectly flattering as it moved past her hips and hung straight down, pooling at her feet. It was simple, beautiful, finely made and luxurious.

Someone, probably Spike, cleared his throat outside. Faye's eyes snapped to her face in the mirror. The crazy part of her, the part that imagined white picket fences and blooming gardenias in the hazy moments before she went to sleep, wanted Spike to see this dress. When she stepped out from behind the curtain, she realized why.

For a long moment, there was no sound but Faye's own astonished breaths. Jude and Alex were gone, probably digging through mountains of gowns for more options, and Jet and Alyssa were wide-eyed and silent. It was only Spike, always casual, who spoke.

"That's the one." He said simply, watching through half lidded eyes as Faye took her place on the marble platform. Her heart did a painful flip in its cage and she could feel the blood rising to her cheeks.

"You're beautiful, Faye." Alyssa confirmed with a sidelong glance at Jet. They shared a smile and Faye felt the overwhelming urge to giggle. This was good, this was really good, and felt really excellent.

Of course, the wondertwins always had to ruin everything. With a bark of laughter from Jude and the massive tumbling of gowns through the doorway from the shop proper, they appeared. "Hey, that's a nice one!" Jude said, kicking dresses out of the way to get to Faye. Her hands found her hips and the head went to the side. She looked like and insolent child.

"It is nice." Alex moped. "But I really wanted a fairy princess dress."

Faye was going to vomit.

"Yeah," Jude concurred. "That would be better. A fairy princess dress."

"Mr. King!" The sales clerk interjected, the sudden movement almost giving Faye a heart attack. "We can alter it! We can do anything you want to it! Just say the word, Mr. King, and it's done!"

Faye's blood ran cold. Alex looked calculating. He took a lap around her, studying the dress.

"The word," He said at last, "is pouffy."

And in one moment, Faye's childhood wedding dreams were dashed.

Of course, Jet was used to being out of control. Spend a year tromping through space with Spike and Faye and you learn pretty fast how to surrender to the dumb luck they appeared to rely on solely. But that didn't mean he liked to be uninformed: quite the contrary. If he was going to let the blind lead (or combat, possibly, depending on moods) the blind, he at least needed to know, to understand, the situation. And when it was something big like this, didn't he deserve to know?

Jet, it appeared, was also used to frustration and indignation.

"Spike looked nice today," Alyssa observed, docile, from the bathroom where she was combing her hair. "Tired, but happy."

"You don't have to hint, Alyssa." Jet replied as he lit a cigarette out of their bedroom window. He was trying to cut back (the doctors kept insisting he had the lungs of a man twice his age), but he figured this was a special occasion. "I already know."

Alyssa gave a curious chirp and set the brush on the counter, padding into the room. The comforter rustled as she sat at the end of bed. "Did they tell you?" She sounded almost amused.

"No. You?

Her gentle laughter settled over the room. "No."

"So how do you know?"

"I'm a bartender, Jet. It's my job to know these things. How do you know?"

Jet crushed the cigarette into the windowsill and turned to Alyssa with a shrug. "The way they were looking at each other, talking to each other. Unmistakable." With a sigh he ran a rough hand over his scalp. "Do you think Alex knows?"

She was smiling. For whatever reason, maybe because the first time she'd met Faye had been in the midst of the disastrous fling with Spike almost two years ago, Alyssa had always hoped silently that they would end up together. Eve Jet had to admit they made quite the pretty couple. But, as they had all learned, being attractive standing together didn't mean a damn thing when it came to compatibility.

However skeptical Jet was of Spike and Faye's relationship, he wasn't surprised that they'd found each other again.

But that didn't mean he was happy about it. Stupid little shits.

"Sweetheart, Alex wouldn't be able to catch them together if we gave him a list of times they meet and a map. He doesn't know."

"That's true. Good. Okay."

Alyssa eyed him skeptically. "You still don't like it."

"No, I don't like it."

"That they're together or that they didn't tell you?"

Jet was silent for a long moment, turning back to the window. Alyssa was patient, had always been patient, and he loved her for it. She was the only inherently good person in the world (except for Ed, maybe) and that tended to lead her to believe in the goodness of the rest of the world. Jet wanted to keep her back, wanted to protect her from people like Spike and Alex and the characters that hung out in the shadows of her bar. He had to stop himself, sometimes physically restrain himself, from sheltering her completely. She wouldn't want it, was stronger than she let on, and if she left him again Jet was sure the world would end.

"Just that they didn't tell us."

"You know, Jet, they're adults. They don't owe us any explanation."

"Hey, I had to feed their sorry asses for a year. They owe me a hell of a lot more than an explanation."

"If they're happy, that's all that matters."

Jet gave her a look, something vague, over his shoulder. "You really think they're happy?" He couldn't expect her to know Spike like he did, to know about that Julia woman. God, how he'd grown to hate that name. That name and the sad smiles it brought to Faye's face.

But Alyssa was observant, and Jet should've known she'd already guessed it. "Whatever happened in the past, Jet, it really messed them up. But Spike and Faye, at this moment, are as happy as they're going to get."

Jet knew, although he didn't like it, that what Alyssa was saying was the truth. In all likelihood, Spike and Faye would never really be happy together, not in the way Jet knew happiness with Alyssa. But he also knew Spike, and he could tell that those sixteen months on Callisto had been hell for him just by looking at him. Maybe they'd never be happy together, really happy, but in a lot of ways it was better than being apart.

Jet had been a cop. He was used to, maybe more than anything, choosing the lesser of two evils.

The affaire, if that was even the right word for it, continued. And in the beginning, Spike and Faye were optimistic. They were sure, if not of their devotion to each other (and they were anything but devoted), of the ease with which they could sneak away from the Kings and do whatever the hell they wanted for a large chunk of the long summer afternoons. Spike liked it being easy, although he must have known subconsciously that even if it'd been hard to see Faye at all he still would have done it. It was good to have someone to be with, someone to talk to, and the fact that he was blowing off enough sexual energy to let June and a healthy chunk of July slip by him in a pleasant haze was an added bonus. There were no romantic fantasies mixed up in their relationship; Spike and Faye looked at it head on and called it what it was. Stupid, wrong, and a risk they certainly didn't need to take for a little fun. That didn't phase them a bit.

Of course, there were no commitments, no obligations. Spike wasn't interested in any strings, especially when a woman like Faye was involved. And Faye, well, she already had a ring on her finger (one she refused to take off even as her fingers deftly unbuttoned Spike's shirt), so there was no pressure coming from her. Spike studied her ring often, mostly when she was asleep (fetal position, usually on top of the sheets because it was fucking hot in the summer), and came to the conclusion a million times over that it was gaudy, overbearing, and in bad taste. There was also the issue of what it symbolized, although he wasn't they type to brood about it unless it was late and he couldn't sleep. Even then, the realization that he didn't exactly want Faye to be with another man was slippery and he never did manage to get a good grip on it. He figured that she was still technically with him because she'd never actually sleep with Alex, considering he'd tried to kill her sixteen months ago. So the ring meant nothing, absolutely nothing, but that didn't mean that he liked to see her wearing it. Not once did she take it off when she was with him.

Often enough during the first two summer months (and also the first months of their post-engagement relationship) Spike had his moments of doubt. His mother had been (probably still was) a staunch Catholic and had engrained in her only child a strong (however prone to exclusion) sense of guilt. Evil as Alex was, 'Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife' was still a commandment and Spike was definitely breaking it considering that not only was Alex his neighbor but also his boss and his one time friend. The general justification came when a) Faye came to see him or b) he realized that he was not, despite his upbringing, Catholic and that he was going to Hell anyway. Often enough the second excuse reminded him of his father, which made sense. In the end, his mother hadn't ever been able to distinguish between Spike and the man she'd married, and that had been the problem with that relationship.

Of course, Spike was alive and his father wasn't, and that had been the problem with that relationship.

But all things aside, Spike and Faye were generally very comfortable with their moral transgression, and good at hiding it besides. They went out together with the rest of the Kings almost ever night and by the time Faye brought up Venus, a topic Jude had eagerly approached him about days earlier, they'd gotten good at pretending to be indifferent to each other. Maybe it was this talent for apathy that allowed Spike to forgo all thoughts of the greater good and even consider going to Venus. Or maybe it was that Faye the one who really asked him.

"You know," She'd said one afternoon at the tail end of July, beautiful in the failing sunlight. "They go to Venus every year for Jude's birthday." By 'they' she'd meant the Kings.

Spike, of course, had known this. He'd gone three years in a row as Alex's personal guest and once before, for what must have been Jude's ninth, because Alex had been a big financial power in the syndicate and they'd sent Spike to look out for some of the more powerful men who'd decided to show their appreciation. But there was something about Faye, about the way she said it, that made him want to listen. It was late afternoon, after they were done doing whatever they did during their time together. He'd made something that'd said it was macaroni and cheese on the box but had turned out orange and kind of globby, and Faye was sitting cross legged on the kitchenette counter, shoveling it out of a plastic bowl and into her mouth. Spike just watched her, his lower back pressing into the edge of the island.

"Yeah, I know. What about it?" He crossed his arms and a smirk played across his face because he didn't know what else to do. Seeing her like this, smudged mascara and fucked up hair in nothing but one of his shirts, depressed him about as much as it pleased him. The net result was a kind of pleasant indifference.

"They're making me go."

An eyebrow lifted. "Are you surprised?"

Faye laughed a little and swallowed hard, dropping the bowl with a clatter into the sink. "No. But I don't want to go alone." She was looking at him expectantly.

A moment passed as Spike considered. But he wanted to tease her, make her squirm. (Like he even could.) "But you won't be. Jude and Bijou will be there. I thought you were all such good friends…"

She unfolded her long legs, letting her feet hang over the edge of the counter. Her palms found the smooth marble and she leaned forward the slightest bit. "Jude's asked you to come, hasn't she?"

Spike shrugged. "Sure."

"Tell her you'll come. You've gone before. And this time you actually have some incentive." A small, arrogant smile crossed her lips. Faye was playing him like she'd played a million other men right in front of him. But Spike couldn't deny he was getting some kind of sick pleasure out of her manipulation.

"You know, Faye, Venus isn't so bad. I bet you'll have fun even if I'm not there." And Venus really wasn't so bad. But it was a planet of excess and Jude was a creature addiction and it was hard for someone with Spike's history to stay straight in that kind of environment.

"Spike," Faye said. She paused for a moment, her lips parted ever-so-slightly. He crossed the five or so feet that separated them for no reason other than he wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real. And Faye didn't object, reached to him, let him wrap his long arms around her. She tucked her head under his chin and nuzzled his neck. Unfortunately for him, when it came down to it Spike, although very fucked up and quite possibly in love with a ghost, was only a man. Faye had the power here. "Come with me?"

He loved that she was asking him. "What's the magic word?" He whispered into her ear as his fingers found the buttons of the shirt she wore.

"Please come with me." Faye was smiling and Spike could hear it in her voice. She languidly swatted his hand away as she pulled back. He kissed her because he could.

"Your breath stinks." He observed smugly as he moved for the shirt again. Faye's smile widened. She seemed to know him well enough to guess that that was as close to a clear cut 'yes' as she'd ever get.

"Yeah, and your cooking sucks. That shit is congealing in my throat." She was laughing.

Spike kissed her again.

Oh, what an evening they had.

A/N: Soo... yeah. Don't really like it, but I hope you guys did. Sorry abou the script thing, but I've never understood people who write like that and I thought I'd give it a try. It was a lot faster, actually. Hmmm... J/K. I think I'll stick to my beloved, "He said, She said"s. So I'll see you guys later!

Love and lots of non-denominational, non-Easter kisses!

Lucinda.

Next time on Lucifer's Garden: We're off to Venus and it's one hell of a ride. Hey, it's Jude's favorite planet for a reason. And don't worry! Happy birthday is easy to sing when you're high. Take a swim, take a hit, swallow the worm,and try to make it to the toilet in time. Vomit stains on Italian silk are a bitch. Session 8: Bloody Eye Boogie Woogie