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It's serious, I've got to find you
When I start to feel this way
You mesmerize me, all the time
And I'll hold on 'til tonight
But that's too long
'Cause you're an angel
Oh oh, you're an angel
My crazy angel
My crazy angel 

I hold on so hard
And pray that I won't say something wrong
I look at the stars
And dream that the universe was ours

My crazy angel

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Hours later, Spike lay sulking on the cot in his too small room, trying to drown out the drone of Jet’s words with his own thoughts. It wasn’t working. 

My woman, he scoffed, recalling Jet’s directive that he had to go bring her back. Yeah, right. If Faye had been here to hear that conversation, she would have pitched a fit, and he didn’t need to guess whose head would have been directly in the path of her wrath.

He sat up and swung his legs to the floor, rubbing his head absently with one large hand. Midway through the gesture, he paused abruptly when he realized that it was exactly what Jet would do when he was worried.

Hmmph, I will not go chasing after her., he thought heatedly. She can come home on her own when she’s good and damned ready.

He glanced at the clock on his dresser, noting that it was long after midnight, and she wasn’t back yet. He got up and shuffled to the door. Faye did have a knack for getting into trouble when he and Jet weren’t around. She could have run into something that she couldn’t handle, and her pride being what it was, she’d be too damned stubborn to call for help.

Maybe she was in trouble.

Or maybe she wasn’t planning on coming back.

Well, damn.

Maybe he should just go find her.