His dark features were alight with triumph as he whistled a clicky melody he picked out of the radio station the Swordfish was tuned to. The kids no doubt loved the heavy bass line and a long string of words that were so fast that one couldn't understand what was being said. Spike knew it was called 'rap' and bobbed his head in time to the beat, trying to alter his image a little. Strong fingers drummed over the gear shift as he eased into his spot on the Bebop alongside Jet's Hammerhead. With a satisfied grin Spike threw open the hatch, collected his blazer from the back of the pilot seat and tumbled with the ease of long practice out of his ship.

The Bebop crew had made a quickie of a junior hacker that was barely out of nappies worth a tidy sum of 200 thousand woo long whilst going after a big catch with a healthy price tag of 13 million woo long – a melodramatic kleptomaniac with a fetish for media attention. He liked sending encrypted messages about his next target to news stations and his sights were bigger and more daring. Of course the local authorities on Mars hadn't caught Mikael Stankovich yet, but they were fairly certain a bounty hunter would pick him up sooner or later. However, the smell of cash or even the possibility of having bell peppers and beef were not the reason why Spike was in such a good mood.

Spike flipped his mop top hair out of his eyes, slung his jacket over his shoulder and swaggered on through the hangar. Ein, the smart little doggie he was, picked up on Spike's good mood and tilted his head slightly to the side in askance. He gave a high pitched bark as Spike passed him on the stairs and followed after the tall, lanky man excitedly sniffing the air for signs of food.

"Spike person bring Ed a souvenir?" inquired a thirteen year old girl with fiery red hair and the widest mouth ever. She literally curled up into a ball and rolled her way to Spike, then soared into the air with catlike grace to land on his shoulders, using the poor man as a perch. He half expected Edward to comb his wild hair for nits and eat them like monkeys once did on Earth.

"Sure did," Spike nodded readily.

"Yipeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!" the girl leapt upwards, tucking herself into a ball and then diving back to the floor with an enormous amount of glee. "Where? Where?"

Spike dug into his pockets and came up with a lump of lint and a wrapped orange flavored candy. With a flick he allowed the garbage to float to the floor beside Ed and tried again in the other pocket, handing the treat to the Ein, who inspected the sweet tentatively before tearing the plastic wrapping off and consuming the candy greedily.

"Here." Spike produced a grungy coaster that had blotches of God knows what and tossed the sorry excuse for a gift high into the air. Again the girl squealed in delight and launched herself from the floor to catch the coaster in between her pearly whites. She landed on the balls of her feet, crouched down low and growled playfully at Ein, shaking her head like a terrier would a prized toy. The creature that was Radical Ed then barked at the dog, added drool to the mix already on the coaster and galloped back to where ever Ed was at before.

Spike shook his head in amusement. It was too easy to please that kid.

Spike strutted into the living area where Faye was reading the latest edition of Ponies for Pennies while the TV blared on in the background. She was seemingly absorbed with the booklet and grunted in acknowledgement – not exactly a classy thing for lady to do, but hey, this was Faye and she could belch with the best of them.

He stooped to retrieve the remote off the coffee table and began surfing for something other to watch than infomercials. Spike nudged Faye's legs off the couch to make room for himself which earned a glare from the stroppy woman and ignored the death glare that could peel paint. And varnish.

"Do you mind?" she glowered grumpily and shifted her weight dramatically, making a big deal out of nothing.

"Not at all."

Faye huffed and flicked the page over, immersing herself into the magazine once more and kicking her legs out again, awkwardly arranging her limbs just to make Spike prickly with irritation.

Of course Spike grinned at her futile efforts as there was absolutely nothing in the whole wide world that could make him feel down. Spike was buoyant with merriment – he was on cloud nine. He thought to himself that even Vicious turning up randomly for coffee and biscuits wouldn't affect his mood. Actually, Spike imagine Vicious with his stupid raven cawing sitting at a table, being civilized and asking politely with an English accent for another cup brought a small giggle to his lips.

Faye did not want to ask what Spike was thinking. He was being downright strange. She hunkered down even further, unconsciously pulling herself in closer to avoid any contact with the weirdo.

He then reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a roll of receipts waving them under the woman's nose gallingly. "Read 'em and weep, hag."

Faye glanced at the roll apprehensively then gingerly took the pieces of paper from his grasp, masking a gulp of concern before proceeding to reveal the contents. Spike's grin was infuriating as Faye's eyes searched for something of interest on the receipt. Maybe he wanted to show her the amount of beef he bought, or perhaps a few magazines on Women's Fashion. Or maybe he had finally lost the plot and needed to be locked up in a loony bin for the greater good of the entire Galaxy.

Then she saw it written in a black magic marker.

"Claire, 323-874-1820." Faye read aloud.

"The checkout girl thought I was cute."

He sniggered at Faye's dumbstruck face. Her mouth was nearly touching the floor, her eyes bulging as her gaze flicked from the receipt to him and the receipt again.

"I still got it, you know?" he added smugly. "She looked about 20."

"Idiot!" Faye screamed and threw the scrunched up receipt at him in rage.

Spike was expecting some kind of violent retaliation but nothing like this. He wanted to watch her pretend to not care while she was actually fuming inside. He wanted to watch her stab little ugly dollies she created out of the old toilet rolls with a lock of his hair glued to the top of it. He wanted to rub it in her nose because Faye thought she was the only one who could get a little ass on the weekend.

Her green eyes sparkled dangerously, her breathing was labored and Faye clenched and unclenched her hands. She was shaking, and Spike noticed that her eye was twitching wildly. Spike grew very weary of the woman sitting just centimeters away from him and suddenly wished he were leagues away.

"What?"

"Where's the food?!" she shrieked an octave higher than usual.

"Uh…"

Not good enough. Faye socked him one in the face with bone cracking accuracy. She kicked the innocent coffee table, wrenched Spike's hair and threw his head into the (thank God!) soft couch. Faye snatched the receipts back from off the floor, stuffed them down her top and stormed off as Spike fought to recover from the latest assault from one of his roommates.

He lay in stunned silence long after Faye left playing the scene over and over in his head. God, that woman could really punch a guy. And make him feel like a complete dunce at the same time. Very much like a sister would, actually. Spike had seen enough movies to know what family the ins and outs of family dynamics and Faye was playing the sisters' part perfectly. But still, it hurt like hell.

"Spike, what happened?"

Jet leant against the doorframe with a wrench in hand, and spotted blotches of water all over his clothes and bald crown. His brows were knitted together with worry and Jet seemed to be genuinely concerned about Spike's welfare. The man heard the thunk of a fist hitting flesh and mentally winced in pity for his friend knowing full well that Spike was the one on the receiving end.

Spike grimaced, his palm flat on the part that Faye decked.

"I forgot the groceries."

Jet chuckled, waving the wrench from side to side to deliver a lecture. "Never mess with a Rabid Faye, Spike. You know what she's like when she's starving."

"And I told her the checkout girl thought I was cute."

Jet threw his head back and laughed outright. The old man laughed so hard that he dropped his tools and clutched a stitch in his side. He wiped tears out of his eyes, holding onto the doorframe for support.

And just like that, Spike's good mood dispersed.