MULDER THE VAMPIRE SLAYER 1

In every generation there is a Chosen One. He alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. He is the Slayer.

~*~*~*~*~

"Are you sure this is ok?"

"Yeah, it's going to be great! Now, come on."

Marcus Wyatt took the handsome young man's hand and lead him closer to the Hoover Building. The twilight sky cast eerie dark shadows around its imposing concrete body. Marcus looked from left to right then pulled Jackson away from the main entrance toward a more discreet side door.

His favorite club in the District had been smokey, loud and packed from wall to wall with half naked male flesh. Just the way he liked it! Instantly drawn to the scorchingly sexy Jackson as his eyes pulled him in, Marcus went into a full blown lie. Hoping to impress, he'd gone into a spiel about being a Federal Agent -- when in fact he was only an intern. The story had worked on him before he snagged the job, and now he was hoping for the same results.

Jackson had been suitably impressed and, after a few sweat grinding dances, Jackson whispered in his ear how he'd always wanted to fuck in the famous federal building. This sparked an instant rise in Marcus's jeans. He knew just how to slip inside this time of night and it would be dangerous, which made it all the more hotter.

Peering within a side door's window, Marcus saw only cases and framed photographs ranged along the empty hallway. Trying the L-shaped handle, it clicked open.

He smiled back at a nervous Jackson. "Eureka!"

Taking him by the hand, Marcus lead him inside. Checking this way, then that, the pair turned to the right down another hall.

"And you really work here?" Jackson whispered, looking around in awe.

"Oh, yeah."

He continued down the hall, but Jackson stopped him close to an intersection. "I'm afraid we're going to get in some serious trouble," he said, worriedly.

Marcus sighed, pressing their bodies together close to the cool wall. "Mmm, I know the perfect place."

Licking his lips, he leaned his head in toward Jackson. Must be his first time, Marcus mused, feeling the bulge in his pants at the bursting point to be released. Startled, Jackson drew a deep breath and turned is head around to look down the hallway.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I thought I heard footsteps."

"It's nothing!" Marcus insisted, pulling Jackson away from the wall and moving on.

"I don't know. I'm sure I heard something."

Marcus stared into the gloom, confident that this area of the building wouldn't be patrolled by security until last. Turning down another hall, he paused at a large grey door marked RECORD ROOM E. With a quick flourish, it was open and he pulled Jackson inside.

"What do you think?" he asked, surveying a table perfect for pounding the boy's ass on.

Jackson ignored him, hugging himself nervously. Creeping up behind him, Marcus shouted, "Boo!"

"That is not funny!" Jackson chided him.

With a laugh Marcus cupped his hands to his mouth. "Hello?" he called. Turning back to Jackson, he smiled. "See, there's not a soul here."

"Are you positive?" he questioned, looking away.

Marcus sighed. "Yes, I'm positive!"

"Good." Jackson playfully cocked his head to the side. In an instant his features morphed, becoming harsher, his eyes two bright yellow lights piercing the darkness. His mouth opened wide, exposing razor sharp fangs.

Jackson fell backwards, a terrified scream catching in his throat. With enormous strength, Jackson fell on top of him. Growling, his teeth sank into the fruit soft flesh. Marcus grunted in pain as they sank to the floor...

~*~*~*~*~

Wrapped snuggly beneath a comforter, Fox Mulder twisted and turned on the sofa. Beneath his sleeping lids, his eyes danced feverishly. Nightmarish visions filled his mind: a mist-shrouded cemetery, a room surrounded in candles, an old man gnashing fangs toward his neck, vampires stalking the streets, a hand reaching out to jerk him away from a burning building, a bizarre statue, an ancient tome hitting the floor in a dusty clatter.

Mulder awoke with a start. He found the blanket tangled around him, and he tried to still his breathing. He looked around his new apartment, seeing stacks of unopen boxes. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at the red LCD display of the clock sitting across from him. Mulder groaned. He was late for his first day!

"Great!"

~*~*~*~*~

Slipping on a pair of shades, Mulder stepped out of his car and locked the doors with his keychain. He turned and headed toward the Hoover Building. Pausing at the steps, he took it in from bottom to top. Nearby, flags waved in the cool morning breeze. This was his last chance to make it in the FBI. He just had to think positive and put the past behind him. Facing the future, Mulder let out a deep sigh.

~*~*~*~*~

Now, here he sat in Director Kersh's office, trying desperately not to fidget. The last time he was before a director was when he'd been chewed out and nearly tossed out of the FBI for good. He put on his best, winning smile but it seemed to have no affect on the rather harsh Kersh. Kersh held Mulder's record, walking around his desk to loom over him. "Impressive career, Agent Mulder. Superb profiler, graduated with honors..." He sat, and looked up sternly. "What's this?"

Mulder knew what was coming. He sat up quickly. "I can explain. I know my past is a little eccentric."

"It says here you nearly burned down the FBI HQ in Houston!"

Mulder exhaled deeply. "Yes, it's true, but I mean... it's like this, the basement was crawling with vamp..." He caught himself in the nick of time. "Asbestos."

Kersh slapped Mulder's file shut and gave him a piercing look of warning. "Since you're so fond of basements, agent, you're being assigned to The X-Files."

"The X-Files?" Mulder questioned, curiously.

"Yes, I think you'll feel right at home there. It's full of unsolved cases... do you understand what I'm saying?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid I don't."

"Report to Assistant Director Walter Skinner and he'll debrief you on your work."

Mulder took this as his cue that the interview was over. Clearing his throat he stood and headed for the door.

"Agent?" Kersh called.

Mulder turned. "Sir?"

"We want your services here at the FBI. Just remember that *we'll* be keeping an eye on you."

Mulder gave him a thin, nervous smile. Hefting his briefcase, he walked out of Kersh's office. His first assignment. Well, hopefully he wouldn't get kicked out of the bureau altogether. He moved on down the hall and bumped right into a woman. Mulder's briefcase hit the floor with a smack, spilling its contents.

"Oh no! I'm sorry," Dana Scully apologized.

"That's all right," Mulder replied with a grin. He looked down at the mess. "My first day's getting off to a rousing start!" He squatted down and righted the overturned case.

Pulling her hair behind her ears, Dana knelt down and quickly joined him to help him gather his fallen things.

"You're the spooky one, aren't you?" she asked. Mulder cringed at her use of his nickname. Dana blushed. "Freudian slip. I mean, you're Fox Mulder, right?" She passed him a few papers.

He laughed lightly. "Thanks. Yes, that would be me. Do I know you?"

She proferred her hand. "Dr. Dana Scully. I'll be your partner on the X-Files."

Mulder's eyebrow shot up. "So my reputation proceeds me?"

They finished gathering up the discarded items, and Mulder shut the case's lid.

"Well, I'm very impressed with your background, Agent Mulder."

"Um, thanks. And it's just Mulder. Exactly what are the X-Files?"

"Cases that involve unexplained phenomena," she replied, with a half smile.

Mulder rolled his eyes heavenwards. Now he knew why he'd been handed this assignment.

"And I knew that you're a great believer in all things unexplained," she continued, skeptically.

Mulder decided to have a little fun with his new partner. "You mean you don't believe in the paranormal?"

She sighed heavily. "Mulder, I'm a scientist. Only little children believe in things like that."

"And spooky agents?" he suggested.

Dana regarded him. He certainly was not what she'd been expecting. In fact, something about him made her a little nervous. "Where were you headed?" she asked.

"To see an AD Walter Skinner," he replied.

She pointed. "His office is just down the hall. When you're finished, meet me down in the basement. I think you'll find our first case very... interesting."

"It was nice to meet you, Scully." Mulder started off down the hall.

Scully watched him go. She didn't understand why Kersh was so adamant about her writing up reports on Agent Mulder. Her eyes fell to a corner, where something from Mulder's briefcase had rolled.

"Mulder!" she called, picking it up. "You forgot..." she stared at the strange object in her hand. "...your stake!"

Mulder didn't hear her and carried on down the hall. Puzzled, Dana held on to the stake.

After talking with an overly friendly secretary, Mulder was ushered inside AD Skinner's office. The door closed behind him, and he walked further in and looked around. No one was inside.

"Hello?" he ventured. "Is anybody here?"

He paused at the AD's desk and saw a newspaper lying open. A picture had been circled in red ink. The caption above it read "Local Boys Still Missing."

A figure moved up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. Mulder spun around, startled.

"Oh!" he took a deep breath, "hi!"

"Can I help you?" Walter Skinner asked, folding his muscular arms across his chest.

"I'm Fox Mulder."

Walter eyed him up and down, taking in the fierce intelligence gleaming in Mulder's eyes. He'd been waiting on this moment for a long time.

"I'm Assistant Director Skinner. I was told you were coming." He headed around behind his desk, folding up the newspaper.

Mulder smiled, and took a seat. "I just met my new partner. She told me that we already have a case..."

Walter quickly interrupted. "Yes, and this is what you'll need." From a drawer he pulled out a large old book with the word VAMPYR written in gold leaf on the front cover. Mulder looked up at him with an uneasy gaze.

"No, I don't need that."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

Walter gave him a confused look. "I'm sorry. My mistake." He returned the book back to the drawer. While he wasn't looking, Mulder stood and quickly left.

Straightening back up, Walter found an empty chair. "Now, Agent Mulder..." He watched him go out of the office. He stared after him, deeply puzzled.

~*~*~*~*~

The elevator chimed open onto the basement level, and Mulder exited, relief shining on his face to be away from that man's office. The hallway was a bit narrow, but he had no difficulty in finding the right room.

Dana Scully was sitting beside a desk pouring over a folder full of notes. Mulder hoped that he could disspell his "Spooky" myth; Scully already had an opinion of him. Smiling, he approached her.

"How's the research coming along, Scully?"

She looked up, surprised. "That was fast."

Mulder sighed and sat down beside her. "Look, I really want things to go smoothly here."

"Do you want to go over the case in Skinner's office or..."

"Or not. We can do it," he swallowed. "I mean talk about it right here. Um, it's just that I find AD Skinner a little intimidating."

"Oh, he has that effect on people being a new boy around here."

"He's new?"

"Yes, he just started."

Before Mulder had a chance to consider this, Dana leaned over and retreived the stake from the desk. "Before we start, I think this belongs to you."

Mulder blushed hotly, his mind thinking fast. "Oh, I just keep that for protection." He made an up and down motion with his fist, which caused Dana's eyes to widen. Mulder's cheeks flushed and he took the stake.

"What's our first case about?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.

With a bemused look, she explained, "We've been handed the assignment of tracking down several missing young men from the area."

"I read about it in the paper," he confessed, remembering the one on Skinner's desk.

She clicked her tongue. "Well, one thing the paper didn't mention is that one of the bodies turned up here in the Hoover Building."

"What?"

"His body was discovered tucked away in a disused records room."

"How did he die?"

"The autopsy results are inconclusive," she explained in her best doctor's voice. "All I can confirm is that he suffered a massive loss of blood. He was an intern here who was last scene at a gay club called Mixers."

"Were there any marks?"

"Yes, but how did you know?" She slipped him a photograph from the folder.

Mulder stared at in in alarm. The young man's body was stark white, with two vivid puncture wounds on the side of the neck. "Just great!" he whispered.

"Mulder?"

"Um, I've gotta go. I'll see you later, Scully." Turning, he ran from the room. Scully stared after him.

"Mulder, where are you going?"

~*~*~*~*~

Walter, preoccupied with the newspaper headline, jumped up as Mulder barged inside his office.

"All right, what the hell's going on?"

"Sorry?" Walter asked.

"The dead guy in the records room. Ring any bells?"

"Yes," Walter nodded, grimly.

Mulder headed toward him, a glint in his hazel eyes. "You know it's the strangest thing. He's got two gaping holes in his neck, and all his blood's been drained." He looked down at the big, surly man. "Isn't that just X-Filish? Aren't you surprised?"

"I was afraid of this."

"Well, I wasn't!" he exclaimed. "It's my first day! My first fuckin' day! I was afraid that I would be under 24 hour watch after Houston, I was afraid I wouldn't fit in. I didn't think there'd be vampires nearby. And I don't want to know anything about them."

"Then why are you here?" Walter asked, calmly.

Mulder hesitated. "To tell you that... I don't care, which... I don't." With that, he turned away to leave.

Walter had to say something to stop him. "Will he... rise again?"

Mulder turned back. "Who?"

"The intern."

"No. He's just dead."

"Are you sure?"

Mulder sighed. "To make you a vampire they have to suck your blood. And then you have to suck their blood. It's like a whole big sucking thing." He stopped himself, this was the second time he'd alluded to sex in a conversation. What did Scully say about Freudian slips? "Mostly they're just gonna kill you. Why am I still talking about this?"

Mulder turned on his heel and headed for the door. Walter swiftly moved ahead of him, barring his path. "You really have no idea what's going on, do you? You think it's coincidence, your being here?"

"Oh, why can't you just leave me alone?" Mulder complained, thoroughly exasperated.

"Because you are the Slayer. Into each generation a Slayer is born, one in all the world, a Chosen One, one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires..."

Smugly, Mulder interrupted and joined in, "...with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil yeah, yeah, yeah... I've heard it all before."

Incredulous, Walter shook his head. "I really don't understand this attitude. You've accepted your duty, you've slain vampires before..."

"Yeah, and I've been there and done that, and now I'm moving on." Opening the door, Mulder strode out but Skinner caught his arm and dragged him back inside.

"What do you know about this town?" he asked, angrily.

"Apartment rates are sky high and tourists flock here every summer?"

Walter lead Mulder back over to the desk. "I've been digging into the history of this place. You'll find a steady stream of fairly odd occurrences." He took a breath and leaned down to open a drawer. "Now, I believe this whole area is a center for vampires." He stood back up with four books and set them on the desk.

"Surprise me," Mulder winked.

He placed the volumes into Mulder's arms one by one while listing off various monsters and demons. "Try a Brotherhood of Vampires."

Mulder laughed. "Hey, I thought I was the only one obsessed with the paranormal. But geesh! You've been watching way too much SciFi Channel!"

Walter gave him a very stern look. Mulder immediately backed down.

"Okay," he gave back the books, "first of all, I'm a Vampire Slayer. And secondly, I'm retired. Hey, I know! Why don't you kill 'em?"

"I'm a Watcher, I haven't the skill..."

"Oh, come on, stake through the heart, just a little sunlight... It's like falling off a bike."

"A Slayer slays, a Watcher..."

"...watches? Vouyeristic, are you?"

"Yes. No!" He sat down the books. "I'm here to train you, to prepare you..."

Mulder's tone became sad. "Prepare me for what? For getting kicked out of the bureau? For having to spend all of my time fighting for my life and never getting to tell anyone because I might endanger them? Go ahead! Prepare me."

They just looked at each other for a moment. Mulder exhaled, turned and left the office in disgust. Walter hesitated for an instant.

"Mulder!" He hurried out into the hall to catch up with him. "It's getting worse!

"What's getting worse?"

He lead him over to a wall and spoke in a low voice. "The undead, the... supernatural occurrences, it's been building for years. There's a reason why you're here and a reason why it's now!"

"Because now is the time I was transferred here." He tried to evade him, but Walter placed a burly arm out to stop him.

"Something's going to happen here and soon!" he hissed.

Mulder rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. "Oh, come on! This is Washington, D.C.! The only evil force I know of is the government. How bad can things be?"

"Bad!" Walter told him, ominously.

Despite his conflicting emotions, Mulder gave in. "All right. I'll scope out the club where that guy was last seen. But I'm not promising anything!"

Walter sighed and stared up at the ceiling. This Slayer was flippant, arrogant and did not take his dueties seriously. What he needed was discipline!

~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, Mulder had spent about an hour in front of a mirror trying on different outfits. He finally settled on a black T-shirt, a pair of way too tight blue jeans and a jacket. Well, even if his clothes screamed "Slut!" at least he could check out the action here. It had been a long time since he'd taken in a club. His last boyfriend had not been into the club scene, and Mulder's nocturnal activies had quickly lead to the relationship's demise. Just another reason why he hated being born the Slayer.

Walking down a dark street toward Mixers, he paused to take out a bag of sunflower seeds from his pocket. A shape appeared behind him. Mulder's skin tingled, sensing that he was being followed. Returning the bag to his pocket, his spit out a few seeds and continued on. After walking for a bit, he ducked down an alley and looked around for a place to hide. Mulder jumped as a cat yowled and kicked some cans as it ran away. Shaking his head, he spied something above him. Perfect!

A young man, decked out in leather, with handsome, elfin features, dark hair and hypnotic green eyes entered the alley. He looked around cautiously, slowly walking along. High above the pavement, Mulder was positioned in a perfect handstand on a bar.

When the stranger passed underneath him, Mulder swung down and kicked him in the back. Knocked to the ground, Mulder stood above him with a foot on his chest. The guy blinked and looked up at him. "Is that any way to greet a stranger?" he asked.

Mulder stared down at him. "Look, buddy, why are you following me?"

"I know what you're thinking," he said with a grin. "Don't worry, I don't bite."

Mulder backed off and allowed him to get up, but he retained his fighting stance. "Truth is, I thought you'd have bigger muscles and all that. You're pretty spry, though." He massaged the back of his neck.

"What do you want?" Mulder pressed, losing his patience.

"The same thing you do."

Mulder let down his guard. "Okay. Tell me, what do I want?"

The man stepped toward him. "To stop the vampires."

"Nope, uh-uh, sorry. What I want is to be left alone!" He started to walked away, determinedly.

"Do you really think that's an option anymore?" Mulder stopped, turning to look at him with a wide-eyed gaze. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box. "Don't turn your back on this," he said, tossing Mulder the box. "You've gotta be ready."

"What for?"

"The Brotherhood."

Mulder didn't understand. Was this guy a friend of Skinner's, sent here to keep an eye on him?

"Who are you?" he asked, pointedly.

"Alex Krycek," he answered. "Let's just say... I'm a friend." He moved past Mulder.

Mulder bristled. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't want a friend."

Alex turned back with a grin. "I didn't say I was yours."

He started to walk away. Mulder stared after him for a moment, then opened the box. He found a silver cross and chain. He took it out, holding it in his hand and took another glance in his direction. But the mysterious Alex Krycek had disappeared into the darkness...

--oo0oo--

Skinner was sitting in his office trying to decide the best approach in dealing with a reluctant Slayer. Hopefully the young agent's natural Slayer instincts would take over if vampires caught him unaware. He was debating contacting someone he knew when the smell of smoke emanated from behind his office door. It was opened ominously and Spender entered trailing smoke as he came.

Skinner rose, uncertain and anxious as the older man entered his office. He did not like the fact that this man had interrupted the meeting he had with Director Kersh just before he was assigned the X-Files. Kersh had only given Skinner his name, no rank or affiliation to anything, which bothered the AD tremendously. What he was doing here he had no clue.

"What may I do for you, Mister Spender?" he asked, uncertain as exactly how to address the man.

"Ah, Skinner. Glad to see you hard at work already. I overheard that Mulder is a bit reluctant to take over his role…"

"I don't know what you are referring to Mister…"

"Skinner, come now. We are both man of experience. I know that Mulder is here to do a job that takes him beyond the usual FBI tasks, but you do not need to prevaricate with me."

"Yes, sir," replied Skinner, still uncertain as to Spender's role in all of this and his unusual fascination with Agent Mulder.

"Just let Mulder be himself. I am sure things will move more smoothly as we allow him to take on his role."

"Of course." Skinner suddenly felt foolish, but confused.

"Very good, Skinner. I think we understand each other." With that he left the AD's office in a trail of smoke.

The AD stared at the wall for a moment, shook his head then turned back to the newspaper on his desk.

*****

When Spender entered his limo that awaited him, he made a complicated gesture with his hand and a large oafish looking man appeared by his side.

Spender chuckled at him. "You do appear ridiculous in that get up, Xanax."

The demon looked down at his body and shrugged. "I like it and I haven't gotten any complaints."

"I am sure you haven't," the old vampire grinned, fully exposing his teeth to his old friend.

*****

Mulder put the box into a pocket and decided he would just keep it until the mysterious man reappeared. He entered the bar, wanting to appear nonchalant, though he feared he may appear awkward at first.

There was the usual rabble in the group, though the crowd appeared younger than he would have liked. He moved over to an empty bar seat and ordered a drink as soon as the bartender was available. It was not too crowded a night and the music wasn't as blaring as on the weekends.

He turned in his seat to look out at the crowd when a man approached him. He was not bad looking to Mulder, but not exactly his type. His hair was slicked back and he did have lovely full lips just asking to be kissed.

"Hello, my name is Jeff. What's yours?"

"Uh… Alex," Mulder replied, coming up with the first name to come to him.

"Nice to meet you, Alex," said Jeff.

Mulder nodded, not feeling anything from the man but as he moved closer Mulder thought he felt something…He was about to look more closely at the man when he saw a familiar face at the entrance. It was Scully. What in the world was she doing here? he wondered.

Scully had decided that she wasn't about to let this new guy decide for her what she was going to do. So she took it upon herself to join him at the bar in case she may learn something there as well.

Mulder stared in shock at what his partner was wearing. She had on a very tight halter top that did not hide the soft swell of her breasts nor two very hard nipples poking from the clinging material. Mulder caught himself licking his lips. 'Shit! I am going to have to watch myself around her!' he thought, feeling an unnatural desire to be with a woman since high school. He looked down and she wore a very tight leather skirt that did not hide her lovely hips nor the sexy alabaster legs that seemed to glow even in the murky air of the bar. His cock twitched and he was sorely pissed to find himself with wood.

She completely ignored him and went toward a dark woman sitting near the back alone. He couldn't believe it. Scully was going in search of information. Well he had to admit to himself that maybe having someone with him may help in his investigation. Sitting here with nerd boy wasn't getting him anywhere.

"So..." Nerd boy chose that time to interrupt his musings. "I am just learned that I was accepted and felt this was a night to celebrate."

"Accepted to what?" Mulder asked, not really paying attention.

"Into Quantico."

Mulder spluttered, "What?"

"Oh, sorry. I recognized you from one of the yearbooks. You are pretty legendary around Quantico."

Mulder began to feel like an utter heel. 'Are all these people FBI?' he asked himself. He noticed Scully move to the middle of the room with the woman whom he found a bit butch and thought, 'Surely she could do better than that.'

The woman was kissing on his Scully's neck. 'My Scully's neck? What in the world is wrong with me, I just met the woman!' Just then he sensed strong vibes from the woman she was with. He had to get Scully away from her. He was about to go to them when Jeff caught his arm.

"Hey, maybe you can come to my place..." Jeff began.

"I don't think so, loverboy. Go celebrate with someone else," Mulder began and turned back to look at Scully...who wasn't there. He stood up and looked about. Nowhere. 'Fuck, where'd they go?'

He ran out of the bar and saw the woman bending down to reach Scully's neck. Mulder reached inside his jacket and neatly jammed the stake into the vampire's chest. She fell back with a shriek, exploding into ashes.

He twirled the stake in his hand and glanced down at what was left of the vampire. "See what happens when you don't play nice."

Scully pulled away and glared at Mulder. "What is wrong with you? She was just giving me a hickie."

"I think it was more than that, Scully. Look," he pointed down to what remained of the vampire and she stared at it in disbelief. All that littered the ground was a pile of dust.

"Mulder...I- did you just save me from a vampire?"

"Yes, Dana. You can have the remains analyzed if you want." He sifted through the ashes with the toe of his shoe. "You know, I just wanted to start over. Be like everybody else. Have some friends, maybe a dog... But, no, they had to come here. Why couldn't they go suck on some other town?"

She moved toward him and pressed her head to him. He hugged her to him, feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging with her.

*****

Right after Scully's apartment door clicked shut behind his back, he remembered that he didn't have his car with him.

Mulder groaned.

It wasn't like he objected the little work out, but he could still feel his knees wobbling, a slight nausea, and cold sweat running on his back to remind him that there was a rather unpleasant after effect of a sudden splurge of adrenaline. Some warmth and security from a car's confined, and closed space was what he needed at the moment.

The fact that Scully's dead-like neighborhood gave him the impression of walking in the middle of a cemetery, and the nearest major street where there was a possibility to find some public transportation was still ten minutes away, had also worsened his mood.

//So there was Fox Mulder, vampiric pop culture obsessive extra-ordinaire, all-american schizophrenic federal government official, and no longer-virginal cult pagan retiree walking down the street in fear over monsters lurking in the night, ready to snatch naughty kids and weird adults for dinner//, he thought unhappily.

Damn. He hated darkness.

Scratch that.

He hated night.

A dead, pitch black night without any stars and breeze. A night where he felt trapped inside a box with its corners condensed into some small dots, leaving him no space to move or sweat or pee, like mummies inside rubber cloth.

Mulder shivered. Come to think of it, *this* felt like that. This night felt like that horrible, horrible rubber cloth. Suffocating. The air felt dead, and no sounds, no sounds at all. Not even sounds of breath.

That's why when a finger tapped his left shoulder out from nowhere, he practically jumped three feet up and shrieked like a banshee.

"Hey, hey, hey. Relax."

It took a long moment for Mulder to finally feel his blood returning to his head, but it was long enough to make some teeny-tiny part, which was functioning marginally at the moment, of his brain to send recognition signals.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" Mulder shouted, half in relief, half in irritation. "Don't you ever do that again!"

//What was his name again?//

Alex Krycek.

The man grinned so wide, it looked like his mouth was about to outgrow his face. Yet, despite the obvious amusement shining from his eyes, he also looked... *stunned*.

"You scream like a... a..." He stopped, then suddenly his eyes glazed over and his body hunched forward. For one horrendous second, Mulder thought that the man was about to topple over to the ground, but a sudden guffaw of a hysterical laughter left him no doubt.

"I'm glad you find this amusing," Mulder said drily.

Krycek straightened his back, face still contorted with laughter and surprise.

"I've never...," he stopped, laughter finally subsided, yet his face was still showing disbelief. "I've never laughed like this."

//And it wasn't even funny//. Mulder gave him a weird look.

Then looked. *Really* looked.

"I didn't hear you coming," he said carefully.

Apparently, the sudden fit of laughter had released some inhibitions in that man, because Krycek appeared more relaxed and friendly. The air of mystery surrounding him was no longer intimidating. In fact, Mulder grudgingly realized, the vibe coming from this man felt *warm*.

"It's a good thing to know that I didn't lose my touch." Krycek smiled indulgently.

"The last time we met I had my feet on your chest." Mulder raised his eyebrow.

"I got prepared, you got careless. We're even now."

Mulder stared unblinking. There was no sound. No breeze. None whatsoever when this man approached him. He was sure he was not demented. This was not his imagination. But the last time they met wasn't he aware of him?

"Have you been following me since then?"

Krycek didn't answer for a moment. Mulder found himself gazing into the black pool of the man's eyes, strangely wishing for some lights to reveal its true green. It was funny to remember that he had thought those eyes were like jade, cold and emotionless. It was nothing like that at all. In fact, those eyes were now roving intently on his neck and chest.

"You're supposed to wear it."

Mulder felt warmth on his cheeks. He just *hated* when an attractive man looked at him like that. It did strange things to his brain.

"Huh?"

//See?//

"The cross I gave you. You can't possibly keep it inside the box forever. You'll forget when you need it."

Mulder felt his fingers crept into his pocket, feeling the box.

"Well, excuse me, I'm not exactly into a Gaultier-Madonna-look at the moment. This wedding chain you gave me is *huge*. It would disproportionate my face and lo and behold, there goes my beauty waving at me a 'hello-and-goodbye'."

Krycek's grin was genuine. "I didn't know that you're a clown."

"I thought the nose give me away."

The man tried hard not to laugh. "It wasn't red and swollen."

"You should see me on Monday morning. The weekend blue balls had turned into snot."

Krycek bent down a little then release another fit of laughter.

Watching him struggling to compose himself, face radiating disbelief over his own reaction, did wonders to Mulder. It was so clear before his eyes that this man wasn't easily amused, and laughter was a rare incident. Mulder knew what it felt like, and he also knew that for someone being restrained over simple, joyful things for a long time, a small chance of release could actually tilt the whole universe to a different axis.

//He told me that he's a friend//, he thought.

Somehow, he believed him now.

Mulder watched the dark, thick hair tumble haphazardly on a fine forehead, and decided that this was actually the best sight he had ever seen since his arrival in Washington DC. He should congratulate himself.

He felt himself grinning.

Finally, Krycek took a really deep breath and wiped his face. He looked at Mulder with brightness in his eyes and strangely Mulder thought as if the man was suddenly lit from the inside. Their eyes met and for a moment, for one blissful moment, there was nothing and no-one in the whole universe but two men, strangers to one another, looking at each other with a deep, intimate sense of connection.

"Ah, Mulder," Krycek said softly, his voice sweet as a whisper after his loud, rambunctious laugher a few moments earlier. "What you do to me."

"So, are you *my* friend now?"

"I thought you didn't want it."

The moment was still there and time still stopped, Mulder had thought fleetingly. Because whatever they both had said, with eyes locked into another, there was not a word that could have betrayed them. Strangely, Mulder just knew that he was asking if Krycek was his, whatever it was, and Krycek was answering: yes, yes, yes.

Then they both blinked and the world turned back on its axis.

"You can't just be reckless like that, here," Krycek said.

"What do you mean?"

He looked exasperated. "Your unawareness of me following you around! Your blurry instinct of knowing which is which and who is what!"

Mulder sighed, "Are we actually talking in English?"

But Krycek's face was serious. Very serious.

"Look. I think it is best if we clear something up first, okay? I thought that you're strong enough... never mind. I was wrong."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I saw you at the bar, and at the range of zero to ten, you scored only six. So, there's some change in my plan."

Mulder gave him an incredulous look. "It's about that nonsense thing. What do you call it? The vampiric Mafia."

"The Brotherhood."

"Yeah. Don Corleone turned Batman."

"Will you stop being an asshole?"

"*Asshole*?"

"I'm very serious, Mulder," Krycek said suddenly with a grim tone. "It seems that I should now stay with you. You aren't ready. You got that? You aren't ready, and now I should make you ready."

//Okay//, Mulder thought. For some reason, his brain was still disfunctioning. //What word had he said that was most significant?//

He stared at Krycek like an idiot.

"I'm not ready? I killed Scully's attacker with a bat of my eyes!" Which also reminded him that Scully was being kissed by a girl. A revelation that played some part of turning his brain into oatmeal porridge.

//"…stay with you…"// the sudden significance of Krycek's words finally penetrated his thick skull. Mulder gasped a little. //What does he mean by *staying-with-me?*//

"How long before you're aware that she's one of them?"

"I—"

"Long enough. I saw that. And did you actually sense that she's one of them?"

Mulder remembered the sudden anger of watching the girl kiss Scully. He thought that it was jealousy.

"Actually, what I felt at that moment was something else," he said, a bit sheepishly. "Did you say something about staying with me?"

The man gave him a sidelong glance. "That bothers you?"

"I don't need a watchdog."

"You only scored six, remember? You need a big, bad German Shepherd."

Images of the strange man turning furry and drooling all the time gave Mulder headache.

Krycek nodded. "Come on, we need to talk." He went to Mulder's side and put one of his hands to his shoulder. "First thing first, you need to know who I am."

Mulder lingered for a moment, then walked silently behind Krycek. He watched the lithe figure, seemingly strung and alert, and felt a very strange sense of relief. He thought briefly of Mark, his ex who had the nerve of thinking that Mulder was still his, wondering about his reaction in seeing him with someone this graceful. He must have been burned with jealousy.

//German Shepherd//, he thought wistfully. "Sit, boy," he mumbled.

Krycek turned quickly and stared at him with a strange mixture of amusement, puzzlement, and something else Mulder did not recognize.

"You said something?" he asked in a surprisingly gentle tone.

"Sorry," Mulder grinned, realizing that since his arrival in Washington DC, this was the first time he finally felt safe. "I just can't help it."

**********************

There was always a fine line between evil and human weakness. It was a curse spanned into all generations. The moment Adam and Eve succumbed to the devil and finally tasted lust, the bonding of sin and men had crystalized and immortalized forever. Evil was an attraction. Evilness was a seduction.

And the Devil was God.

The man stared into the bright reflection of the sons of Adam and Eve munching God's gift inside the McDonald's restaurant. Such images enthralled him. It brought vivid memories of his family, dying and rotting slowly, stomachs empty except gut worms trying to survive by eating their host's intestines, until finally fading away. It brought remembrance of acres and acres of dusty land, unable to produce one single potato, and turned the whole of Ireland into nightmare.

The man slowly took a roll of cigarette out of his pocket, and put it between his lips.

These people, the sons of Adam and Eve, the sons of the surviving Irish on the pilgrimage to America, had taken life for granted. They ate when they no longer needed to eat. They threw the remaining food they could not finish. They did not share when all they needed to give up only cost five dollars.

They forgot why they existed. They did not remember the tears, blood, and dying souls of people in famine trying to keep alive.

Another man passed by, then stopped in front of him. "You have a light?" the stranger asked.

The man slowly took out his lighter. The glistening gold under the neon light provoked a greedy shine on the stranger's eyes. He took the gold zippo carefully, and grinned toward him, "Nice thing."

The man stared at him without blinking. Taking the time to enjoy watching the stranger light his own cigarette, then zipped the lighter's flap shut. He watched how the stranger still kept the zippo inside his palm, his whole body screamed about its reluctance to return the precious thing back to its owner.

The man hid his smile. No worries. Everyone should get what he deserved.

The stranger took a drag and puffed silently beside him, eyes darting elsewhere, thinking about giving up to the strong temptation.

//Ah//, the man thought with satisfaction. //The son of Adam, indeed//.

Apparently, the stranger had come to a conclusion that he was way bigger, and younger, than him. He grinned wickedly, feeling very confident with himself, and started walking away. "See you around." The gold zippo was deep inside his pocket.

The man gave him a long ten minutes, before he finally moved and followed the path where the stranger had walked away. He glanced for the last time into the McDonald's restaurant, noticing that the group of men he had been watching had wrapped up their activities and were ready to depart.

He wondered whether these men would survive if the same famine that had taken his family away from him forever happened now. He wondered if these men would do anything to keep themselves alive. He wondered if these men would be envious of chances not given to them, and ready to do anything to ensure that it was given to *him*.

He wondered if these men would cheat their souls to the Devil.

He turned into a darkened alley, knowing by instinct that this was where the man with his gold zippo had gone into. His face turned up, watching the black, unlit sky, wondering if the stranger would struggle violently.

He hated the ones who moved too much.

Strength was nothing he should be worried about, but still, he was an old man then and still an old man now. In his mind, he was old and growing older. He just could not help feeling fragile.

//You don't deserve it//. Those whispers were still haunting him. Even after six hundred years. Even after he had it. After he *stole* it.

A bitter bile rose on his throat. He knew he did not deserve it. No one with wrinkles, ugliness, sagging body and dull gray hair deserved to be immortalized forever. In fact, he loathed it. He loathed the fact that he was the only one with wrinkles and dull gray hair being immortalized forever. Even until now. He had entertained the thought of turning one like his old self into his present self, but dismissed it quickly. Even he could not stand to see himself, why add another one? He certainly did not need a lover nor a companion as ugly as himself.

He heard a little grunt far away.

//That's him//, he thought with a flash of glee. His nostrils flared, recognizing the sour smell of human piss, and decided to walk slowly. It would not do to soil himself. He just needed time to let him wipe and zip.

It was all about style.

//That's right//, he nodded with a strange sort of satisfaction. //Style//.

Despite the initial knowledge, it was not his earthly ugliness that set him apart. It was *style*. He remembered his intense disappointment when the exotic creature he had stolen his gift from was not as Godliness nor even Evilness as he had imagined. That beautiful, young, smooth creature was just a primitive animal, condensed into a stone-age humanoid with a need only for food, sleep, and sex.

It was not difficult for him to set his role.

All these creatures needed was a leader with a brain and a sense of power. Someone who would give their dull life meaning and excitement. Someone who would brainwash them about their own importance and existence in the prize of doing errands. Someone who would shepherd them, group them together, and actually live like the human beings they all were before.

Civilized. And organized.

It was a long struggle alright, but he had what he had. Style. And pure, unadulterated greed and hate. He was merciless and envious. He was undefeatable that way. No beauty and indulgence could cloud his judgement. He knew where he stood because he knew what he was. The ugly one.

It took hundreds and hundreds of years. But he was there now.

He was the one with the power. He would be the *only* one with the power.

Especially after...

The sound of a zipper was heard, and he smiled ferally. He thought about the clogging cholesterol at the man's veins, and wondered if those were the things that made them even more delicious. He scratched his shoes to the ground.

"Somebody there?"

//Ah//.

"Someone's there?" This time, there was a hint of fear lurking on that tone.

He waited a moment, before he finally moved out from the shadows. His sharp eyes could see the widening pupils of those dilated eyes, the shining film of the first cold sweat, and he could hear the musical beating of a heart working much, much faster.

"You!" the stranger exclaimed in surprise and a bit fear. "What are you doing here?"

"You brought something of mine."

It must be something about his tone that made the man freeze on the spot and stare with bulging eyes and a paper-white face.

He felt the hunger and amusedly realized that it was not about his tone after all.

"Y—your face—" Amazing that this man was still coherent enough to speak.

Yet, it was a good thing that he did not struggle much.

Later, he returned to the spot, thinking about doing another McDonald's gazing, and sighed. He put the gold zippo, wiped clean from some spilt blood, back into his coat's left pocket, feeling the vibrating buzz of his cell-phone, and flipped it open.

"Yes?"

//"He has our boy."//

He pulled another cigarette then slipped it between his lips. Just like the previous one, he did not have any intention to light it.

"Well, that's too bad, isn't it?"

//"How do you think *He* would react from this?"//

"That's my problem," he shook his head slowly, thinking about the Deign he had made a pact into. He was still awed with such fact. He just could not believe that he actually did it. It was a prestige beyond belief. "You just do what you have to do."

********************

Mulder winced as Krycek pulled him to his feet. Seeing the glint in the other man's eye, he frowned.

"This doesn't prove anything, you know."

"Mulder, you just walked into a tree. A slayer *must* be aware of his surroundings at all times..."

"I know. I've heard it all before." Mulder lowered his head and walked on, telling himself that he didn't care whether or not the other man followed.

//And the way he smiled at me had nothing to do with the fact that I just got attacked by the Big Bad Tree.//

He affected a thin, nasal tone and an English accent. "A slayer should be aware of his surroundings at all times. One second's hesitation could cost him, or someone else, their life. Blah, blah, blah."

Krycek had caught up with him and now looked over at him, a small crease between his eyebrows. "If that was supposed to be Skinner, that was a truly pathetic impression."

"Not Skinner. Craven. He was... a friend."

He hunched his shoulders and ignored the curious look that Krycek shot him. He did not want to think about Texas right now. Didn't want to remember leaping flames and running agents and the pain on the older man's face as he'd...

"How do you know what Skinner sounds like, anyway?" Almost to himself, he muttered, "shouldn't surprise me. You both have the "sacred duty" speeches down pat. You should get married and move to London and get a German Shepherd and do whatever the hell you want and LEAVE ME ALONE!"

He spun, the vampire that had jumped out at him overbalancing and crashing into a trash can. As the demon struggled to its feet he searched around wildly for something that would do as a makeshift stake. Smooth wood was placed into his hand and he thrust the stake forward, through the flimsy dress and into the unbeating heart beneath. He turned and stared into shadowed eyes.

//Who *are* you?//

"Okay, okay, I'll wear the damn cross. And yes, you had a stake and I didn't, but if you say one single word about Boy Scouts I'll break your damn neck."

"But you'd look so cute in that little uniform..."

"Bite me!"

* * * * *

Only one light was still burning in the hoover building as Skinner pored over the ancient text just sent over from the Watcher's Council in England. So intent was he on his translation that he didn't even notice when the man entered his office; the bright light throwing the ridged expanse of his forehead into sharp relief.

"And the... cabbage? His spelling was atrocious..." Skinner muttered, barely restraining the urge to get out a red pen and write "see me" in the margin. The vampire hefted a conveniently heavy paperweight.

"And the *slayer* will..."

And his last thought, before there were stars, and blackness, and a world of pain;

"This could be bad... this could be very, very bad..."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Light shone through his closed eyelids before Skinner was even aware he was conscious. His head was pounding with pain; he could feel a lump already forming on his head where he'd been struck. He was also aware that he'd lost all feeling in his wrists and hands. Opening his eyes, he found that he'd been bound upright in an X position, with his arms suspended from a beam across the ceiling and his ankles secured to the floor.

"Ahhh, you're finally awake, dear Watcher! I must say, it was very easy to subdue you, the rumors would have had me believe otherwise," a deep, resonant baritone greeted him.

Skinner craned his neck around to see who was speaking and saw a young man regarding him with glee. His captor was lean and muscular, with cold, classically beautiful features consisting of an elegant nose and strong chin, eyes light brown as to be almost golden in appearance and full, curly blond hair with one ringlet swept carelessly over his forehead. Noticing Skinner's examination, the man smiled and turned his chiseled profile to the side. "So what's the verdict? Rather Byronesque, don't you think?"

Tamping down his rage, Skinner forced himself to speak calmly. "I'm hardly the one to answer that question. I'm not familiar with the features of the Romantic poets and wasn't alive when Byron was. Were you?"

The young man laughed delightedly, wagging his finger impishly at Skinner. "Oh, Skinner, you're such a tricky devil! Are you trying to figure out if I'm a vampire? Why yes, as a matter of fact, I was. However I never met the man, so I can't satisfy any curiosity you might have on that score."

The man then circled around to stand in front of Skinner, looking him up and down covetously. His beautiful face was transfixed with lust, and in spite of his fear of being rendered helpless and in the hands of a vampire, Skinner couldn't help feeling irritated with this treatment. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Folding his arms, the vampire gave him a glowing smile. "Checking out my new possession! Really, Watcher, you need to be more careful. You were so deep into that tripe you were reading that you didn't even notice me in your office. You're lucky that I didn't kill you."

Skinner swallowed hard. "Why didn't you?"

The vampire looked at him from under lowered eyelids. "Because I didn't want to. You're much more valuable to me alive. I do want to bring you over...what a lark that will be for the Watcher's Council, a Watcher vampire! But not yet...not for awhile...I want to play with you first. Though don't worry, I won't wait too long, we don't want an old Skinner vampire prancing around, do we?"

Skinner bellowed in rage and yanked at the cords that restrained him, his hands aching to choke the young vampire's neck, much good that it would do him. He cursed himself for being careless. He had been so busy with his work and deciphering the blasted text that he hadn't even noticed night had fallen. And perhaps having Mulder on board had given him a false sense of security. But where was Mulder now?

He stilled in the next moment as the vampire placed his hand on Skinner's forehead. "Enough of that," he chided sternly. "You can't get free, you'll only hurt yourself. We haven't even concluded our introductions, and already you're chomping at the bit! For your information, Watcher, my name is Keiron...Keiron Pierce, at your service."

"Dark black," Skinner responded tonelessly, with Keiron's hand still on his forehead.

Keiron smiled. "Ah, so you know! Pretty ironic, don't you think, Skinner? Dark black when I'm so fair? Perhaps my dear mother was thinking of my soul. Now your name, Walter...it means 'ruling people' in Old German, but I'm sure you know that already."

His voice softened to a sensual purr as he lowered his hand. "Also an irony. At least, it will be when I get through with you."

"What do you want with me?" Skinner forced himself to ask.

Keiron laughed. "What don't I want with you! You're a priceless gem, dear Watcher, and now you're mine. There are those in the Brotherhood who would do away with you, the fools. When the issue was raised, I insisted they leave you to me. So you have me to thank for your life. You'll be making it up to me in a myriad of ways, I can assure you."

Even though it was pointless, Skinner started struggling again, trying in vain to break the strong cords that held him. As he looked around frantically at his surrounding, he could only guess he was in the basement of a building, most probably a deserted one. There would be no one around to hear his cries as the wretched vampire drained his life away.

Instead of getting angry with Skinner's attempts to free himself, the vampire seemed amused. "You don't give up easily, do you, Walter? That damn Spender was right when he said he was worried about you. You and your Mulder won't rest until you drive a stake through each one of us, I'm sure."

Hearing Spender's name made Skinner freeze. "Spender? Is a vampire?"

"Why, of course! What ever did you think? He's well-placed within the Brotherhood. The crafty old goat has had it in for you for a long time. The only one who commands more of his attention than you is that delicious little bastard Fox Mulder."

"Because he's a slayer?"

"Well, of course because he's a slayer. But he's also quite luscious. Spender wants him. He wants to bring him over."

Keiron paused. "But he isn't the only one. We all want him. All of us. Your boy has placed himself at the top of the pyramid by killing so many of us. At first we wanted to do away with him, he's quite a nuisance, but now...now we just want him. And to bring him over, that is. Once he's a vampire, that'll be the end of it, he'll belong to us."

"Don't be so sure!"

"Well, of course, there are degrees to what each of us would want to do. Personally, I'd make him a renfield...make him suffer a bit. Suffer a lot. Then, then I'd bring him over," Keiron said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

Skinner shut his eyes. He knew that Keiron wouldn't be giving him so much information if the vampire didn't intend to kill him. His Slayer made into a vampire? And what the hell was a renfield?

Keiron watched him with dancing eyes. "A renfield, dear Watcher, is our nickname for a human slave to a vampire, which is what you're about to become. My own personal renfield. It's a tacky name for it, I know, from that wretched Dracula tale, what a farce that piece of offal was! But it's modern lingo and does have a certain ring to it. Anyway, enough about the charming Fox Mulder...we're here to deal with one errant Watcher, who is almost as much of a pain in the ass as his Slayer!"

Seizing the front of Skinner's shirt, Keiron effortlessly tore it open and away from his body. Skinner resumed struggling and tried to move as far away from the vampire as his bonds would allow, but Keiron still managed to grab his pants and pull them and his briefs down so they lay pooled around his ankles.

This treatment at the hands of the vampire enraged Skinner. He was well aware that he was dealing with an extremely dangerous creature...an ancient vampire, the older they were, the more powerful...but Keiron still looked like an impish twenty-five year old, and the thought of being used this way by this being made him fit to kill.

As the vampire relieved Skinner of his clothing, he was in ecstasy over the A.D's magnificent body, running his hands all over the sinewy shoulders and chest, the washboard stomach, kneading the perfect, firm globes of his ass. Grasping Skinner's prodigious cock, he whispered in his victim's ear, "I want to hear you scream, Walter, scream my name when you come!" as he pumped it roughly.

"How about when I drive a stake through your heart!" Skinner couldn't help snarling as he tried in vain to move away from the blond vampire's invasive touch.

"So rebellious, so big and strong..." Keiron murmured breathlessly in his ear, "Just the way I like 'em!"

The Watcher's resistance only served to fuel Keiron's arousal. Vampires were hunters by nature, and they delighted in the struggles of their prey almost as much as obtaining the prey itself. Dropping to his knees, Keiron spread his victim's buttocks wide and started to rim him.

The heat of Keiron's arousal finally transmitted itself to Skinner, causing him to cease in his struggles. As soon as he felt the soft lathe of Keiron's tongue at his opening, against his will Skinner felt an answering fire in his own body. The projected force of Keiron's arousal overcome the last of Skinner's resistance, and he groaned loudly, willingly spreading his legs so Keiron could probe him deeply with his tongue.

Keiron laughed to himself as he fed the absolute pleasure he felt in playing with Skinner's body back to Skinner. The A.D. didn't stand a chance in hell of fighting him. Once a victim was cornered as neatly as Skinner was, all resistance was futile. The Watcher was not only overwhelmed by his own reactions to Keiron's skillful ministrations but Keiron's projected passion as well.

Skinner's cock in his grip was as hard as steel. Standing up, the vampire unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. Softly and sensuously brushing his lips up against Skinner's ear, he murmured, "Since you are so fond of stakes, you may now have possession of this one!" and he then thrust deep into Skinner's anus.

Skinner cried out as he felt Keiron drive his cock into him, momentarily regaining command of himself, but then he was lost once more as Keiron started thrusting deep within him, pushing hard against his prostate. Keiron fucked him hard, brash in his line of attack, and Skinner didn't resist but instead pushed his hips back to meet the vampire's thrusts.

Keiron slowed his assault as he felt the last of the Watcher's resistance ebb. He fucked Skinner slowly and luxuriously, calmly and confidently staking his claim over the Watcher's body. He wanted to make this first of experience of possessing his renfield last as long as possible.

Finally he thrust once and came with a howl, baring his fangs in an unseen grimace, spurting cold semen deep within Skinner. The shock waves of his orgasm caught Skinner in their wake, and he screamed as he also reached climax, spurting and spurting over Keiron's clenching fist. The orgasm Skinner experienced was joined with Keiron's, and the pleasure was brutal in its intensity, seemingly beyond anything a mere human could take.

He almost blacked out, but came to with a cry when Keiron withdrew from him abruptly. Tucking himself back in, Keiron came around to gaze at Skinner with a gloating smile, who hung limply and dazedly in his restraints.

"You're mine now, Skinner! I've claimed you. Just a little blood now, and you'll be my renfield. No fang marks at the neck, our Fox is too wily not to notice." Grabbing Skinner's wrist, Keiron stuck his fang into the Watcher's forearm. Skinner was still barely aware of his surroundings and hardly noticed the pain as Keiron sucked out some of his blood.

Letting go of his renfield's wrist, Keiron smiled at him. "You've pleased me greatly, Walter Skinner. I'm going to enjoy owning you very much. I hope to add our darling Fox to the brew, but he has that wretched Krycek to protect him now. No matter, all in good time."

Pulling up Skinner's pants, he released his captive from his bonds. "Sorry about your shirt. You'll have to wear just your jacket to go home. A bare chest like yours and a jacket, what a lovely combination. You will not speak to anyone about our encounter or what I revealed to you. If you try, I'll prevent you. I'll inform the Brotherhood of the success of my mission. In the meantime, you will continue in your work, and Fox Mulder will suspect nothing. I'll call you when I want you."

Skinner turned to pick up his jacket, exhausted to the bone by his ordeal. The soreness in his ass and the pain in his arm were nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of failure and despair that after all his years of experience he had fallen under the spell of a vampire so easily. He would be the laughing stock of the Watcher's Council if they knew. He needed to figure out how to escape from the vampire's control and to warn Fox Mulder of the Brotherhood's intentions before it was too late for both of them.

He looked up to find Keiran gone. The vampire had left without a sound. Skinner's lip curled in disgust. "How predictable," he muttered scornfully, taking little solace in Keiran's sudden absence. He hoped that when Keiran called him, he'd somehow find the strength to be able to resist.
  
****
Fox Mulder finally reached the front door of his apartment building with Alex at his side. There had been no more incidents with vampires, and he'd had some time to think over Krycek's words.

"This is where I get off." He turned to his newfound vampire friend. "So you think I'm lousy at spotting vampires and protecting myself on top of that?"

Krycek flashed him a smile. "Not lousy, just a bit rusty. You have to admit you had some close calls tonight, Mulder. I'm here to help you sharpen your skills, so to speak."

Mulder harrumphed and entered his building. He jumped when he turned around to find Krycek had followed him into the foyer.

Krycek tsked. "See what I mean? You need to expand that tunnel vision of yours. You need to be able to know that I've followed you into your building, if I was hostile I could have sunk my choppers into that luscious neck of yours before you even had time to react."

"Krycek! You're not coming into my apartment with me!" Mulder ranted, at the end of his tether.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't entirely trust you!"

"I just helped save your life so many times," Krycek pouted. "You still don't trust me?"

"Not enough to have you in my apartment," Mulder said, feeling unnerved. Like any vampire, Krycek most probably possessed inhuman strength and the ability to subdue Mulder to his will, and even if he had been a bit oblivious to the presence of vampires tonight, he was not so far gone as to be unable to read the sexual signals Krycek was sending him.

Krycek sighed. "Fox, I promise that I won't jump you. Look, you're in a bad way. The Brotherhood is stepping up its efforts to take over this city, and you're in great danger. You need a bodyguard, and there's no one else to do the job but yours truly."

"All right," Mulder said, giving in. Krycek was incredibly handsome, compelling...Mulder wanted him without question, but was it wise for a Slayer to become involved with a vampire?

As they entered Mulder's apartment, Mulder switched on the lights. Luckily no vampires or other creatures of the night went scurrying. The agent threw himself onto the couch and looked up at Krycek.

"All right, spill," he said in a tone that would brook no argument.

"Where should I start?"

"How about with how you became a vampire, why you're now on the side of good not evil, and what this great vampire takeover is all about?"

Krycek smiled. "All on the first date? Fox, you should know that vampires hate talking about how they became vampires, it's a highly personal thing."

Mulder shrugged. "It's Mulder. I don't mean to pry, I'm just looking for some data input."

Disappointment flashed briefly in Krycek's eyes at Mulder's cool tone. "Okay. You want to know how I was made."

He sat down on the couch next to Mulder. "I was born in St. Petersburg, 1787, into a wealthy Russian family. My father was a landowner and possessed over 200 serfs or 'souls' as Gogol conveyed in his book. My mother adored me. She pampered and spoiled me, but my father never could take to me. He probably disliked me from the moment he laid eyes on me."

Krycek paused. The memories were difficult to dredge up, especially when they were so painful. "In my seventeenth year my mother, Elizaveta, died of scarlet fever. That left me to the care of my father, who was enamored of every other child in the family but me...my older brother Ivan, my sister Lena, my younger brother Mikhail...and considered my education merely a superfluous effort and expense. However, a good friend of his, a wealthy English gentleman, offered to take me off his hands and bring me to London, where he would finance my education and introduction into English society.

"I was happy to leave St. Petersburg, especially after my mother's death. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing to hold me there."

"What was the name of this English gentleman?"

"Winston Mansfield Morris," Krycek said. "He was extremely fond of me. I knew he would have adopted me if my father would have agreed.

"When I arrived in London, I was dazzled by the exciting life there, the sumptuous dinner parties, the theater and opera, all of the charms of the city were at my fingertips. My English mentor wined and dined me...he wooed me, and eventually I find out the real reason he brought me to London."

"And that was?"

Krycek sighed. "He wanted me. He took me to bed only a fortnight after we arrived at his London house. He wasn't my first lover, I had had a brief affair with another boy from school named Pietr, but I had never had someone seduce me in such a romantic, elaborate and worldly manner, who concentrated so solely on me and my pleasure. He told me I was beautiful and wanted me always by his side."

Mulder noted the pensive look on Krycek's face. "But there was trouble in paradise?"

Krycek chuckled. "Plenty. I started to get restless, stayed out later than he liked, often arrived home drunk. I was a cad, but he put up with it because he loved me. Then, when he started disappearing himself during the night, well, that gave me even more freedom and I abused it.

"I started having affairs, with unhappily married rich women and men, actors, actresses, whores...I cut a sexual swath across London that was not to be believed. Morris tolerated it, however, until I fell in love. I fell in love with a young actor who reminded me of Pietr. Colin was so talented and beautiful. He made me miss what I had lost in Russia. I resolved to leave Morris and start a new life with my lover."

Mulder interjected, "But you never got the chance."

"No," Krycek smiled sadly. "Morris turned out to be a vampire, in case you haven't guessed already. I was the first one he'd fallen for in all his years of existing, and you can imagine that he didn't take it kindly when he found out I wanted to leave him. He caught me walking out the door with my cases one night and flew into a rage. He told me that if he couldn't have me, no one would, and then he sunk his teeth into my neck. He drained me dry and then forced me to drink blood from his wrist as I lay on the floor dying. The compulsion to drink was terrible, I couldn't fight it, and then when I did, it was the most intense pleasure imaginable. It really isn't much of a choice we vampires give you mortals, even if you're lucky enough to get a choice."

Mulder didn't know what to say. "Wow. Gee, Alex, I'm so sorry!"

Krycek flashed him a bright smile. "Don't be, Foxy! Just think of it as a tough price to pay for a relationship gone sour. He did it more to spite me than anything else, he could have killed me or kept me as his slave, but he really wanted me to suffer."

"Did you ever see him again?"

"Of course, off and on, through the centuries. Eventually we made amends. He employed me as his driver at some point, if you can believe that. However, he died in a fire at a summer residence in Spain. It was several years ago. It is tough to kill a vampire, I am sure it was the Brotherhood that did it. He was an ornery sort, he never played by the rules. He would be completely disgusted with the Brotherhood's latest shenanigans. That was probably why he was killed, even though he was one of the older vampires and very well-respected."

"And what exactly is it that the Brotherhood is planning?"

Krycek thought for a minute. "There are some powerful vampires who are tired of the way things have been going, grabbing a human here and there for food or fun, and they want more. They think the tables should be turned, that the humans should be the ones we control, and the world belongs to them. The plan is world domination, basically, starting with the seat of American power, Washington, D.C. They envisage a world where humans exist merely to satisfy vampire lusts, for blood or sex or both, and the vampires run the show. That is what I came to warn you about, and why I'm so concerned about your safety."

Mulder was stunned. He'd been a Slayer for years, but he'd never suspected to hear anything like this. He'd killed the occasional vampire when necessary, and it did seem necessary right and left tonight, but a vast vampire conspiracy to take over the world? He should have laughed in disbelief but instead felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

"I can't believe this," he said numbly.

Krycek couldn't help laughing at Mulder's expression. "Fox, you look like Atlas must have looked when Zeus handed him the world. It's not all on your shoulders, but you are the Slayer and you need to know."

"Why, so I go kill every fucking vampire in DC?"

"No, not all," Krycek said. He then leaned over to kiss Mulder lightly on the lips. Mulder didn't stir. "At least, I hope not all!"

Mulder fixed him with a piercing gaze. "You skipped over my second question."

Krycek leaned back. Folding his arms, he gave Mulder a enigmatic smile. "I don't want to see the bad guys win any more than you do, Mulder. I've outgrown the need to feed on a daily basis, it's merely a craving now, and I would hate to see a world run by vampires. Humans have evolved beyond becoming the mere playthings or slaves of some parasitic race that sucks their blood."

Mulder exhaled. "Well, I'm glad we see eye to eye on that score. Look, Krycek, I appreciate your concern, but it's late, I'm exhausted, and I'm turning in. Shall we continue this discussion some other time?"

"Go ahead and go to sleep. Where to you want me to hang out?"

"Krycek-"

"Mulder, you can't get rid of me that easily," Krycek gave him a killer smile. "I've sworn to protect you, remember?"

Warning bells were going off in Mulder's head. He really didn't want Krycek under his roof, not with the seductive looks that the good-looking-no, gorgeous---vampire was giving him, but he didn't see any way around it. And Krycek was right. It did seem that they had faced down a rather denser than usual population of vampires tonight.

"All right, Krycek, you can stay. But you stay out here. I don't want you perched at the foot of my bed like some German shepherd. Geez, I can't get away from that image. If you want, hang out here and-"

"You'll scream if you need me?" Krycek responded with a wicked grin.

Mulder gave him a withering look while Krycek chuckled. "I'll call if I need you. Don't get into mischief. I'm not used to being under the same roof with a vampire that I haven't driven a stake through, regardless of how good-intentioned he is."

"Live and learn, Mulder baby," Krycek winked. "You'll find that I'm a very pleasant houseguest, one of the best."

The air was heavy with innuendo as Krycek lasciviously looked him up and down. Mulder got unsteadily to his feet, trying not to meet his eyes. "Er, that's great, Krycek. Anything you need to eat...wait, of course you don't need to eat...look, anything you need-"

"You'll be the first to know," Krycek finished for him, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Mulder blushed to the roots of his hair as Krycek leered at him. Not knowing what else to do, the Slayer turned on his heels and quickly walked out of the livingroom and into his bedroom.

Chapter 2