The characters in this fanfic belong to their respective creators--the X-Files gang to Chris Carter and the Crow gang to their creator. Still consider James O'Barr to be the owner of that character... Making NO money off this--why pay for something you can read for free? LOL.

Scully studied Mulder from where she sat on the hard couch in the corner waiting room of Murphy Memorial hospital. They had been there for three hours, waiting. Scully knew that Mulder had to be here, that he had to know the outcome of the surgery, but his incessant pacing was getting on her nerves. "Would you like to get something to eat?" Scully suggested. Better solid food than another cup of the coffee Mulder had been downing. Five in the past hour alone. He was wired from a caffeine overload topped by an adrenaline high. That happened after being shot at, especially when it was the second time in one week. And the shock and stress factor came in to play now that an innocent had gotten caught in the crossfire.

"No," Mulder muttered, as he passed by Scully. He turned sharply on his heel and paced back across the rug.

"You need to eat," Scully persisted, even though she knew Mulder had made up his mind already. To be honest, she wasn't hungry either, but Mulder needed a distraction. Scully had seen the victim, David Collier. The bullet meant for Mulder had entered Collier's chest, leaving a gaping wound and tearing up vital organs. Scully knew that the man would not survive surgery. His insides had been turned into hamburger. It was senseless and tragic, yet a part of Scully was relieved that Mulder had been spared that fate. She didn't want to lose him.

Mulder knew what Scully was trying to do. He also knew the truth. David Collier was an innocent. A man who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. His presence had saved Mulder's life, but his own life was forfeit. Mulder knew that Collier would die. It wasn't fair. But he said none of this to Scully, Mulder simply continued to pace.

Scully heaved a sigh and rose from the couch, feeling the need to stretch her own legs. She headed for the water fountain in the hallway to ease her thirst and was just heading back when she spotted Dr. Florence walking towards her. The look on the man's face said it all. Scully hurried back to Mulder, wanting to offer him moral support when he got the news.

"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder," Dr. Florence stated, as he entered the waiting room. "Mr. Collier died of massive chest wounds and internal bleeding. There was nothing I could do." Florence felt a bit awkward delivering this news to two FBI agents rather than David Collier's famliy. But he had been issued a gag order for the time being without being told why. Not that it mattered, for Florence was a man who played by the rules. He had worked too hard to get where he was to let politics, or his conscience, drag him down.

"Thanks for trying," Mulder responded, an automatic response. He turned away from Florence and headed towards the exit, only to be blocked by a beefy agent, openly wearing a weapon.

Scully hurried to catch up to Mulder, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. She knew he was ready to explode, and he would be more than likely to do so after she delivered her news. "We're under orders to fly out to a safe house immediately, Mulder," Scully announced, her fingers digging into her partner's flesh. She could feel his tension like the vibration from a live wire. "It's not an option," Scully reiterated. "It's an order. They want you protected twenty-four hours a day."

Mulder shook his head then laughed. "What about you, Scully?" he shot back, his bloodshot eyes flashing blue sparks. "You coming along for the ride?"

"It's believed that I could be targeted next, Mulder," Dana replied, not letting Mulder's attitude get to her. He had a right to feel the way he did. After all, two attempts had been made on his life and the FBI had no clue as to who was doing it. Or why. It seemed logical that Scully might be targeted as well, since she was his partner.

"You won't be safe with me!" Mulder hissed. "I just get people killed!" His anger and frustration made itself felt as Mulder's body shook. He was finally reacting to the shock that he was feeling. Bad enough that an innocent stranger had died. Mulder could not bear the thought that Scully might be next. If he was targeted to die, then so be it. But Scully did not deserve such a fate. She had suffered enough in the past year to last a lifetime. "I'll go alone," Mulder allowed, his eyes pleading with Scully to simply walk away.

She shook her head. Scully knew that Mulder needed her. Now more than ever. "I go where you go," she stated firmly.

Mulder wanted to protest, but he simply lacked the energy. Nodding his head, he shook Scully's hand off his arm, only to snag it with his own. The warm strength of her slender fingers comforted Mulder as the beefy guy escorted them down the hallway towards a waiting limo.

Once inside the vehicle and on their way, Scully made one last attempt to reason with Mulder. "This isn't your fault, Mulder," she said softly.

"Nice try, Scully," Mulder drawled. "But there's no one else to blame." That said, he leaned his head back against the cool, leather upholstery and pretended to sleep. But even though he was wide awake, Mulder was haunted by nightmares. Of blood and bullets and death.

Eric Draven stirred from his place on the floor. He had been trying to meditate. To clear his mind of negative energy so that the positive flow that he related to Shelly would wash over him. It had been two months since he had last connected with his love. Eric missed her, more than he missed his past life. But a voice called to him now. Not human in nature, but a call for help none the less. Eric knew the voice. The Crow.

Rising to his feet with catlike grace, Eric glided over to the broken window. The Crow was perched on a shard of iron, its dark eyes watching him. "What now?" Eric questioned, heaving a sigh. He closed his eyes and let the vision wash over him. A man with blue eyes and a woman with red hair. Eric saw them as slightly blurred images, but what was clear to him was that the man was in danger. That death had touched him and would soon claim him. He understood that this man was not to die. Too many lives would be lost were that to happen.

"What do you want me to do?" Eric asked the Crow as he opened his eyes and came back to himself. The vision faded but the feeling of dread remained. Shaking his head, Eric answered his own question. "I'll do what I can," he promised, as he reached for his leather jacket and pulled it on. Ever since losing touch with Shelly, Eric had refused to wear his long coat. He couldn't explain why, but he connected it to Shelly in some strange way.

Leaving the apartment, Eric ran to his motorcycle and hopped on. A moment later he was roaring down the road. The man from his vision was nearby and in danger. Eric could smell blood in the air, and feel death. As he cruised along at eighty miles an hour, Eric sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn't be too late. Too many innocents had already died.

Mulder gave up the pretense of trying to sleep. Even with the sedative that Scully had given him two hours ago, he couldn't rest. So he pulled on sweats and a t-shirt and made his way into the kitchen, waving to the beefy agent who was watching TV in the livingroom. Another agent was dozing in a lazy boy rocker, and two more were stationed outside the door. Mulder should have felt safe, but he didn't. It bothered him, too, that Scully was asleep in the master bedroom, Mulder having offered to take the smaller guest room as his own. He believed that she was in danger by staying with him. Not that anyone seemed willing to listen to reason.

"Shit!" Mulder hissed, as the milk carton he had removed from the fridge slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. Milk splattered everywhere, but it was a lucky break for Mulder. When he crouched down to pick up the carton, bullets whistled over his head. He hit the floor, face down, waiting for the barrage to end. From his position, Mulder heard footsteps and cries. Then he felt a chill rush over him at the sound of Scully's voice calling his name. "Get down, Scully!" Mulder shouted, raising his head from the floor just in time to see her fall. "NO!" Mulder cried, scuttling over to her. Scully's temple was red with blood, but she was breathing. The bullet had only creased her.

Mulder surged to his feet and gasped at the sight of his beefy bodyguards lying dead on the floor. Sensed a presence and turned just in time to face death. A masked intruder, dressed in black, holding a rifle. Mulder knew he was going to die and he was ready. But in that moment he saw a flurry of motion, and as the assassin fired, a body interposed itself in front of Mulder, acting as a shield.

Eric grimaced as he felt a dozen bullets enter his flesh, but he didn't fall until the last one hit him. By then the assassin was out the window, long gone. Eric wanted to run after him, but he had no control over his body. He was falling into darkness. Into death once more.

"Dammit!" Mulder screeched, moving to kneel beside the young man who had protected him. He found himself staring down into an exotically beautiful face. A young face. Another innocent. It wasn't right. Nor did it make sense. The man was not an agent. He shouldn't have been here. But even as a million questions filled Mulder's mind, what he saw made them disappear.

"Shit!" Eric hissed, as he came back to awareness. Being shot wouldn't kill him, but it sure as hell hurt. He opened his eyes and stared down at his chest, seeing the bullet holes fusing closed. It was then that he realized he was being watched and he lifted his eyes to meet a shocked gaze. The man from his vision. Eric wanted to explain, but he didn't understand what was going on himself. So he jumped to his feet and made to leave out the window.

Mulder moved to block him. "Who are you?" he asked, a smile curving his lips. In all his years of believing in the supernatural, Mulder had never come across an entity such as this young man. He wasn't afraid of what he had just seen. He was intrigued.

Eric heaved a sigh. "I'm nobody," he replied, then he pushed past Mulder and went sailing out the window. He wouldn't go far for he knew that the danger had not passed. But Eric needed time to think. So he jumped on his motorcycle and rode off into the night.

The hospital was different...and yet the same. The same white hallway as Murphy Memorial, the same tiled floor, the same hard chairs, the same bitter coffee held in a thin styrofoam cup. As he stared down at the dark fathomless liquid, Mulder found himself reflecting on how two hospitals half a state apart could look so much the same. Even down to the strong smell of antiseptic mixed with the equally strong smells of urine and blood--hell, even the nurses wore the same peach colored uniforms--

"Agent Mulder."

At the female voice, Mulder raised his head to see a woman standing before him, short touseled brown hair concealed by a blue cap, clad in blue surgical garb under the obligatory white lab coat. Her round glasses caught a wayward glint of light as she shifted position, two charts tucked under one arm, and there were rust brown spots on the front of her shirt, almost concealed by the lab coat.

Slowly Mulder straigthened and the doctor flashed him a perfunctory smile, the weariness in her eyes and stance indicating that she was running as much on adrenaline as he was. "Agent Scully suffered a mild concussion but no other serious injuries. Luckily the trajectory of the bullet was off enough to prevent penetration. We're going to keep her overnight for observation...but she should be ready to go in the morning. She's up in recovery right now...room 312."

Mulder's shoulders sagged a little in relief and he managed a hoarse thanks before the doctor went off, moving down the line of anxiously waiting relatives and friends, to deliver news of a loved one to someone else. In his mind replayed the scene from the safe house, seeing Scully fall, the crimson on her temple, of the choking fear as he'd knelt over her to probe the wound...and the shattering relief to see that the bullet hadn't penetrated her skull. Intellectually he'd known she would be alright...but it helped having a doctor tell him the same.

She would recover...but the four agents that had been guarding the safe house weren't so lucky. Three of them were pronounced dead at the scene...and the fourth had flatlined on the way to the hospital, making it there to be feverishly worked on by the ER staff, till death was pronounced twenty minutes later. Mulder should have been dead too--would have been dead, were it not for the mysterious young man that had appeared to throw himself into the path of the bullets meant for Mulder. A young man that had risen to his feet just seconds later to vanish out the window, seemingly unharmed...

But he had been hit. Mulder had seen it with his own eyes, seen the damage done to the young man's body...and seen through the torn material of his shirt flesh ruptured by the force of the bullets melding together once again. Like a magic trick...

Mulder shook his head as he went to the elevator and hit the "up" button, trying to dispel that image but unable to. Or the question as to why the young man had sacrificed his own life for Mulder's...even if he hadn't died--

"Mulder."

A sigh escaped him at the call of his name and Mulder turned even as the elevator door opened, to see Special Agent Darren Wheeler striding towards him, thin lips drawn in a tight line. From the regulation above-the-ears haircut to the tip of his well-shined shoes he could be the poster image for the Federal Bureau of Investigation's recruitment drive; not a hair out of place, his suit as perfect as if it had just come off the hangar, with creases in his slacks sharp enough to cut. His career in the FBI was as perfect as his image--everything by the book, no reprimands or censures...but nothing spectacular either. The spitting image of what J. Edgar Hoover had in mind when he'd started the FBI...

Everything Mulder was not.

Stepping into the elevator, Mulder tugged at his tie to loosen it as Wheeler followed him into the elevator. Mulder cast the closing doors a considering look, wondering if he'd have enough time to slip through them, and then turned his attention to Wheeler in resignation as the doors slid closed.

"I've got four agents dead, Mulder. Four agents--my men--dying to protect you. I--" Wheeler took a step closer, one finger extended as if to poke Mulder in the chest, and Mulder gave the offending finger a look, raising his eyes slowly to meet those of Wheeler's. Whatever Wheeler saw in Mulder's eyes caused him to lower his hand, placing both hands on his hips as he glared at the other man. "I want to know why."

"So would I," said Mulder dryly, returning Wheeler's belligerent stare with a level one of his own. A week ago and he'd been tucked away into the basement office that housed the X-Files, struggling to recover all the data he'd lost in the fire that had ravaged the office. And then an odd phone call--a wrong number of all things--and a hushed message spoken by a desperate-sounding man had drawn him west, to an apartment empty of furniture that held a dead man in its bathtub.

A dead man...that didn't exist.

A man who'd had his fingerprints surgically removed and carried no I.D.

In the message the man had left he'd spoken of a file that carried proof of a conspiracy... and had planned to give it to the intended recipient of his call, a Scott Warren, reporter for a Baltimore daily. A reporter who had apparently disappeared from the face of the earth...

And within a day of Mulder's arrival, the body count had started. Someone was desperate to silence Mulder, desperate enough to kill innocent civilians and other Federal agents. Someone that had the skills to bypass the security of a safe house. What they thought he knew...Mulder couldn't begin to guess. But with each successive attack he became all the more determined to find out.

"If you're holding back on me, Mulder..." said Wheeler through his teeth, letting his sentence trail off threateningly.

Mulder gave him an insolent up and down, his skepticism showing in his eyes. "You'll what?" he asked derisively...and was saved from Wheeler's reply by the opening of the elevator. He strode rapidly out into the hall and down it, the click of Wheeler's heels fading behind him as the man exited the elevator as well, going to the door marked 312 and pushing it open.

Scully turned her head at the sound of the door opening, wincing a little at the movement, and managed a small smile for Mulder as he came up to her bedside. She sported a bandage on her left temple and red hair was matted a little with blood but other than that she looked okay--he let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and found himself reaching out to take her hand and give it a squeeze.

"Hey...how you feeling?"

"Like there's a marching band in my head...and they keep circling and circling..." said Scully with a wan smile, returning the squeeze to his hand, her blue eyes sharp as she studied him in turn. "How about you?"

"All in one piece," said Mulder lightly. Thought about telling Scully of the mysterious young man that had saved his life...and then decided against it. He'd already given her enough of a headache, he reflected ruefully.

"The other agents..." Scully shifted to find a more comfortable position and Mulder reached behind her to settle the pillow propping her up behind her back.

"Dead," said Mulder curtly.

Scully let out a small sigh, closing her eyes briefly. She'd suspected as much--had been surprised that she hadn't suffered a more serious injury. The last she'd remembered was the roar of gunfire and the shattering of glass, a burning pain along her temple and falling... "What happened?" she asked calmly, setting aside her own discomfort to focus on the situation before them.

"They're still trying to figure it out. Seems like our assassin hit the agents guarding the outside of the house first...and then went in," replied Mulder.

Even though the motion pulled at the stitches on her forehead and sent a jab of pain through her head, Scully found herself frowning. "So who stopped him?" Mulder looked away and she reached out to grasp at his sleeve. "Mulder...what aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing important." He took her hand from his sleeve and laid it down over her stomach, giving it a little pat as he drew back, flashing her an insincere smile. "You rest up--I'll be here in the morning to spring you. We'll have someone on your door." And with a cheery wave he left the hospital room, ignoring her call.

Wheeler stood outside, flanked by two athletic, square-jawed specimens clad in somber black, arms folded over his chest. Jerking a thumb back at the door to Scully's room, Mulder said, "Watch her." And started down the hall.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? Mulder!" Wheeler's strident voice followed him to the elevator and as he punched the "down" button, Mulder turned to Wheeler, the other man coming up short at his expression.

"To find out what the hell's going on around here," said Mulder flatly and stepped into the elevator to take it down once more to the lobby.

In the hours since the ambulance had brought its grim cargo to the hospital's door, Eric had sat in the parking lot, drawn here for reasons he didn't know. And so he'd remained in the parking lot, in a place where he could watch the main entrance and not draw any unwanted notice. Didn't dare to go inside...because in a place like that, the memory of pain and suffering the walls--the very floors--held would be overwhelming, too much psychic input to deal with.

And he had never liked hospitals. Still didn't...even if he no longer had anything to fear from them...

Two of the people in that house would survive; Eric had become versed enough in death to know that the other four wouldn't. Four lives lost...but for what? That he'd managed to save one of them he could accept...but the others didn't have to die. If he'd only known sooner...he might have been able to reach them in time...

A harsh caw brought his head up to see the swoop of black wings that heralded the arrival of the crow. It settled on the hood of a nearby car, its beak lazily preening at its feathers, and Eric directed his words at the bird. "Why didn't you come to me sooner?" It lifted its head to regard him with shiny black eyes, eyes that held the secrets to Death and what lay beyond...and kept it to itself. His guide in his quest...

The crow moved on the hood of the car, ruffling its feathers as its sharp gaze focused elsewhere, and through its eyes Eric caught a glimpse of the man he had saved just hours earlier, coming out of the hospital, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. Watched as the man hailed a cab and stepped inside, the cab moving off.

Kickstarting his motorcycle, Eric revved the enging and set off in pursuit, the crow taking to the air to provide him with an aerial view of the cab's journey. For whatever reason the crow had brought him to this man, it had to be important...

Eric was surprised to see where the man he was following ended up. A Blues bar. The Blue Note, to be exact. Eric sighed as he parked his motorcycle in the alley then headed inside himself. Was glad he was dressed in black for he should be able to blend in with the crowd.

Entering through the side door, Eric let his eyes adjust to the dim light his musician's ears listening intently to the music being played. The band was good, and the female singer had a smokey angel's voice just perfect for the blues. A smile tugged Eric's lips as he headed for the bar and ordered a drink. He could drink even though he didn't require food or liquid, and he had been in enough bars during his short career with Hangman's Joke to know that a drink was a must if he didn't want to draw attention, or get thrown out.

Heading for a shadowy corner, it didn't take Eric long to spot the man he was following. He was sitting at a side table, two glasses in front of him. Shot glasses. One was empty. Eric faded back into the shadows, but kept the man in view. Then he let the ambiance of the place flow over him. Remembering his own glory days of being on stage. Remembering and never forgetting. For it was while on stage that he had first met Shelly. But Eric reminded himself that now was the present, and for the moment he must let go of the past.

Mulder was very well aware of having been followed by the young man who had saved his life. Some instinct had alerted him to the fact and after what had happened with Scully and the agents at the safe house, Mulder's senses and instincts felt super alert. Almost painfully so. He was glad that the young man was there, for after getting what he had come for at the club, Mulder could then find out who the kid was. But first things first.

Scott Warren, the missing reporter, had been a regular at the Blue Note. That was the one thing Mulder had learned from the police, the one tidbit of information that had interested him before he had become a target. Now that he was here at the Blue Note, it was to learn that Warren had played saxophone with the house band. The same band that was playing now. They had a new guy on sax. Mulder guessed he was good. Didn't really care. He had come there to try and learn what he could about Warren.

After tipping the waitress a twenty to give him a name of someone to talk to about Scott Warren, Mulder leaned back and downed his whiskey. He would have to wait for the band to take a break so he could talk to the lead singer. She and Scott had been involved. Her name was Constance Lowry. Mulder hoped she would have some answers for him. While he waited, he tried not to look in the dark corner across the bar, but he could feel the eyes of the young man watching him.

Eric kept an eye on the man he had saved, yet he enjoyed the music as he waited. He fiddled with his beer, taking only a sip before setting it aside to order another, which he also ignored. Thirty minutes passed before the band took a break. Eric watched as the lead singer made her way across the room to the table where the man sat. In that moment Eric wished for supernatural hearing. But he couldn't risk moving closer and revealing himself, so he stayed put and waited.

Constance frowned at the man in the suit. Sheila, the waitress, had told her about him and she stood next to his chair, eyes glowing with suspicion. "What do you want?" Constance queried. Ever since Scott's disappearance, she had been living in fear. Always watching her back and unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Mulder stood up and offered Constance Lowry a chair. "My name is Agent Mulder, Fox Mulder. I'm with the FBI," he stated, hoping to make her more at ease.

"You want to know about Scott!" Constance hissed, making to turn away. She didn't want to talk about him for fear she would disappear as well. Strong fingers gripped her wrist, pulling her back around.

"I won't hurt you," Mulder promised, pushing Constance into a chair then sitting down himself. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. "I want to help."

Constance laughed, a sound that ached in her dry throat. "Scott is gone...probably dead," she whispered. "For all I know I could be next."

Mulder tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but he failed miserably. She was right to be afraid. He knew that better than anyone. "Do you know what Scott was involved with before he disappeared?" Mulder queried, his fingers still locked around Constance's wrist. He could tell she was ready to bolt and he needed to talk to her. To find something out that would help him to stay alive.

"Scott never talked to me about his work," Constance confessed, yanking her wrist free of Mulder's grasp yet staying seated. She combed a lock of white-blond hair behind one ear and shrugged. "We weren't in love," she drawled, pulling a cigarette and lighter out of the bodice of her gown and lighting up. "We were in...lust. It was a purely psychical relationship."

"But...you were both musicians," Mulder countered, trying to make sense of it all. "You had that in common."

Constance took a drag on her cigarette then exhaled the smoke on a sigh. "So what?" she countered, cynicism glowing in her dark eyes. "We both liked music and we both liked to fuck. What's your point?"

Mulder realized he would learn nothing from her so he shook his head. "Sorry I bothered you," he stated, withdrawing a twenty from his pocket and offering to her. "Thanks for you time."

"Thanks for nothing!" Constance hissed, but she snatched the twenty from Mulder's hand before walking away.

"Dammit!" Mulder muttered to himself as he downed the rest of his whiskey. Then he rose from his seat and headed for the bathroom. He needed to empty his bladder and wash his face. Maybe a few simple acts would help him think more clearly.

Eric watched the blonde leave the man's table, then the man himself wander off. The band was still on break so he left the shadows and wandered over to the stage. Reaching out, Eric let his fingertips brush the saxophone that rested in a stand on the floor and he caught his breath as images flooded his head. It was Scott Warren's saxophone, his life imprint was still on it. And what Eric felt was terror. The man had been afraid for his life. He had gotten a call last week that had made him a nervous wreck. A call at the bar. And it was later that night that Scott had disappeared without a trace.

"Hey man....what's up?" a voice asked, close to Eric's ear.

It was the saxophone player who had taken over Scott's place. Eric turned to face him, blinking away the images. "Nothing," Eric replied, forcing a smile. "Just admiring the instrument. You're a hell of a player," he complimented.

The sax man ate it up. "Thanks!" he gushed. "I'm just biding my time waiting for big things to happen," he babbled. "You a musician?"

"Guitar player," Eric confessed, then he glanced over at the hallway. No sign of the man in the suit. "Gotta go meet a friend," Eric stated, gliding away from the muscian. He reached the table where th man and the woman had sat and the first thing Eric noticed was the woman's lighter. He picked it up and gasped. Images of her and Scott flashed in Eric's head. Of their lovemaking, violent and wild. Then Scott falling asleep and Constance making a phone call. She was smiling. Eric shivered for he sensed and evil about her. Cold evil. He dropped the lighter as if it had burned him.

The man's glass was still there as well and Eric reached for it next. The image that came to him was of the man and a redhaired woman. They were partners and friends. More than that deep down. Soulmates who would never be lovers. There were flashes of other images as well, but before Eric could focus on them a hand touched his shoulder. He whirled to see the man smiling at him.

"Mulder....Agent Mulder." The introduction was made with an outstretched hand.

"Eric," he countered, not shaking the hand. He didn't think he could face what he would see.

Mulder's smile faded. "Thank you for saving my life," he whispered.

Eric nodded. "You're welcome." He shifted on his feet, feeling the need to be ready to bolt.

"I think we need to talk," Mulder drawled, blocking the young man's escape.

"Yeah," Eric replied after a long moment of silent contemplation. It was time for them both to get some answers. "Let's talk," he declared, then gestured for Mulder to lead the way.

Three blocks from the Blue Note was a Denny's and it was to there Mulder directed Eric, riding behind the young man on his motorcycle. The logical side of his brain told him he was insane to be putting his life so easily into a stranger's hand...but logic was rarely relevant in his work. And it wasn't logical that the young man could heal before his eyes gunshot wounds that were mortal...

They took a booth near the back, away from the rest of the customers, and Mulder ordered coffee and a slice of apple pie a la mode to placate the waitress. Settling down in the booth across from the young man, Mulder studied him intently, seeing an exotically handsome young man but fairly normal for all that. "What are you?" It wasn't what he'd meant to ask but the question had lain dormant in the back of his mind, bursting out.

"I am...a sorrow that wouldn't die. I am anger and pain and grief." Slowly Eric lifted his gaze to Mulder's, his own dark with the memories of pain and death. "I am vengeance."

Mulder digested this in silence, running a finger along the rim of his coffee cup. Wanted to ask all sorts of questions, to know where the young man had come from, how he was able to...do what he did--

Eric raised a hand to forestall him. "What I am...isn't important. What is important...is that you're in danger. And I've been...sent to help you."

Mulder grimaced and tugged a hand through his hair. "Well, I could certainly use it." Two attempts on his life and he still had no clue what the hell was going on... "So I can consider you my guardian angel, huh?" In response Eric merely gave him a feral grin and Mulder sighed. "Okay...this is crazy...but I think you saving my life shows I owe you at least a little trust."

"The woman you were talking to...she's involved in this somehow. There's a man that played with the band--"

"Scott Warren," interjected Mulder.

Eric nodded, leaning forward a little, eyes cutting from left to right. "He was...scared of something...of someone. Something that he knew...and he wasn't supposed to know." He closed his eyes, struggling to bring back the impressions touching the saxophone had given him. "A phone call...and then he was...gone."

"Dead?" asked Mulder.

Slowly Eric shook his head. "I don't know...there wasn't anything to indicate he was dead." Mulder held his tongue, smothering the impulse to ask how he knew that, and waited for the young man to continue. "The woman--she knew this guy. And from what I was able to pick up...I think she's involved. I can...touch things...and see--feel--things..."

"Must be lots of fun at parties," remarked Mulder dryly, rubbing his chin. "Okay--not a helluva lot to go on there...but it's a start." Taking a quick sip of his coffee, he tossed a five dollar bill down on the table, leaving his piece of pie as he got up out of the booth, Eric following him out into the parking lot.

"You need to go back to the hospital. You're worried about her..." said Eric as they stepped out into the cool night.

Mulder cast him a considering look, wondering what else this Eric had been able to "pick up" but deciding to let it go. "The hospital seems the safest place right now." Didn't like the idea of hanging around there and exposing Scully to more danger...but he didn't know where else to go. And it seemed better to be somewhere with a lot of people...rather than holing up in a hotel room.

"Come on...I'll give you a ride," said Eric as he swung a leg over his motorcycle and Mulder climbed up behind him for the ride back to the hospital. Eric pulled up before the main entrance and cut the engine as Mulder dismounted, turning to face him.

"So how do I get in touch with you?" asked Mulder hesitantly.

A harsh caw cut the silence between them and a crow dropped from the sky to alight on the handlebars of Eric's motorcycle. Eric looked from the bird and then to Mulder, a grin curving his lips. "You don't. If you need me...I'll find you." And with a squeal of tires he rode off into the night, leaving Mulder to gaze after him till he had disappeared from sight. Only then did he go into the hospital.

"He's still alive."

The young man stood in a circle of bright white light, body rigid and head bowed under the spotlight. If he lifted his eyes, he could see vague shadows--little more than shapes--beyond the circle of light and perhaps even a figure, if he looked closely enough. But with the fear of his latest failure choking him, he kept his eyes submissively lowered, hoping--praying--that this show of obeisance would placate them.

"How is that possible?" asked the same voice, a faint stream of smoke issuing from parted lips as a shadowy figure paced a circle around the very boundary of the light. "You've had two tries at him...and yet he's still alive."

"There were...extenuating circumstances," said the young man, managing to sound calm even though he was quaking inside. Wet his lips and dared to raise his head, eyes shifting around the circle to focus on the figure that came to a halt. "The first time--a civilian got in the way."

"But the second time, Tomlin. The second time...you managed to take out four Federal agents...but not the very agent we wanted dead." The figure's tone was mild as he spoke the rebuke but it was deceptive.

"Someone intervened," said Tomlin desperately. "I would have killed him--"

"Would have," repeated someone else beyond the circle of light, voice harsh with scorn.

"Failure is not an option," said another, a woman's voice with a clipped British accent. "We do not accept or condone failure. You know that, Tomlin."

Tomlin raised his hands pleadingly. "But it wasn't my--" A shot rang out, striking him in the head, and he crumpled to the floor, body twitching as blood spread out in a slow circle underneath his head. From the darkness came a figure, high heels clicking on the metal floor as she walked forward, and Constance Lowry came into the light, lowering the gun she held, a plume of smoke curling about the muzzle of her gun.

"We have another problem," she announced. "Mulder is asking questions about Scott Warren."

A murmur swept through the circle of men and women as Constance gave Tomlin's body a contemptuous kick, raising her head and waiting for silence before she spoke. "I think that killing him will no longer be sufficient. We need to find out what he knows before we terminate him...and who he might have given any information to."

She swept her gaze around the circle and as a grudging approval was given, she nodded in curt acknowledgement and turned on her heel to depart the room.

Eric sat on the steps leading up to the broken window, guitar cradled in his arms, watching the flicker of lights on the city below. Remembered how he and Shelly had sat here on rainy days, Shelly curled up against him, watching the patter of rain on the glass...remembered how she had insisted on decorating the window for Halloween and then Christmas, though he'd told her that no one would see it up this far. Odd how you remembered all the little things that had seemed so trivial...

Fingers brushed through his hair and he turned in surprise to see the figure of Shelly behind him, clad in a glowing white gown. She ran her fingers down his cheek and said softly, "Be careful, Eric. Someone suspects your existence...and they will do whatever they can to bind you to them." A gentle kiss pressed to his forehead and he closed his eyes at the soft warmth of her lips, quivering with the memories that touch roused in him; when he opened his eyes again, it was to find her gone...

Eric never slept, or so he thought. But there were times when he experience moments of unconsciousness. Sarah told him he did it with his eyes open sometimes. Albrecht, the police detective who had worked on Eric and Shelly's case when they were first murdered, told him he did the same thing. Sometimes he did it after being shot, especially if he were not in Crow form when it happened. It happened now.

Within the black velvet darkness a light appeared. It burned softly then grew brighter till it was like a blinding silver flame. Eric realized he was lying in a heap, was aware of his body and that he had no control over it. So he went along for the ride since he had no choice, and he discovered that the light was warm. That it's glow radiated a heat that touched him as the light passed over him. This was something that Eric had never experienced before and it frightened him.

Death held no fear for Eric anymore, but the light was something different. It was alive somehow. As it washed over him it felt like a touch, an intimate caress that made him shiver. He wanted to move away from it but his body was paralyzed. ::::What are you?:::: Eric shouted in his mind. His own voice echoed about him but there was not reply. The light seemed to dim for a moment, however, then it brightened further till Eric was forced to close his eyes. It was then that he felt the warmth of the glow become a heat that should have burned him. But it cradled him instead, and then it penetrated his skin to burn in his blood.

It was then he heard the laughter and felt the touch of a mind within his own. A soul weaving fine threads into his soul. A violation...his mind and body cried out. For the touch was as intimate as a lover's caress, yet what touched him was not Shelly. In that moment Eric fought to come awake. To end what had to be a hideous dream. He called out to Shelly as his source of strength and almost wept when she answered him.

::::I'm here, Eric Don't be afraid::::

"I won't be afraid," Eric replied, unaware that he had spoken out loud. Aware only of the touch of a hand on his face and he reacted, gripping the hand in his until there was a cry of pain.

"Eric! It's me...Albrecht!"

Realizing that he could now move and that the light had faded into darkness, Eric opened his eyes to see Albrecht's dark looming over him. The detective was grimacing and Eric realized he was crushing the man's fingers. "Sorry," Eric apologized, releasing his grip immediately.

Albrecht rubbed his throbbing hand and grimaced. "No problem," he drawled, sarcasm oozing from every pore. He sat down on the floor next to Eric and studied the strange young man who had somehow become his friend. "Want to tell what the hell just happened?"

"You tell me," Eric countered, his eyes glittering with suspicion. "What are you doing here, Albrecht?"

"I was in the neighborhood so I stopped by to see how you were before heading out for breakfast," the detective answered. His hand was still throbbing but the pain had lessened. "I knocked but no one answered and I was about to leave when I heard you screaming."

Eric was stunned by this news. "I was screaming?" he challenged, feeling suddenly as if he had been kicked in the gut by a mule. He didn't remember screaming.

Albrecht nodded, concern suddenly drawing his attractive features taut. "I thought someone was killing you, man," he confessed, then he offered an embarrassed grin. "Then I remembered you can't be killed. But I came in to check on you and you were thrashing about on the floor like you were in agony. I tried to wake you...."

"You touched my face," Eric interjected.

"Yeah...then you nearly broke my hand," Albrecht replied, with a grin. He didn't hold a grudge, most of the time.

Eric took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Fear was washing over him again and he remembered what Shelly had told him. About someone suspecting his existance and wanting to bind him to them. He knew now that it was a dark force, something evil. Something connected to the light that had ravished him. "No..." he whispered, becoming lost in thought and tuning Albrecht out.

But the detective was totally focused on Eric. He was stunned to see the young man shaking, stared into the dark eyes and saw that they were glassing and unfocused. Reached out to touch Eric, to draw him back from whatever hell he had just drifted in to, but Eric flinched from his touch. Albrecht backed off as Eric skittered over into a corner and crouched there, arms hugging his knees and rocking himself. Albrecht knew it was impossible, yet he got the sudden impression that Eric had been violated somehow. He was reacting like a rape victim would. Male or female. "Eric..." he said softly, moving towards the younger man slowly, not wanting to frighten him further. Since accepting that Eric Draven had come back to the dead and was something of an avenging angel now, it was hard to know what was normal for the young man. Eric had confessed to not sleeping or eating, although he could eat if he chose to. He just had no need of it. But what about the other psychical things?

Bullets could slow Eric down but not stop him. Nothing could keep him down for long. Or kill him....as far as Albrecht knew. And rape seemed unlikely. Eric had supernatural strength, especially in Crow form. Yet it was obvious that he was currently suffering from some kind of trauma.

Eric was unaware of Albrecht's concern for him, and he would have been surprised at the other man's thoughts. Yet, truth be told, what he had suffered moments ago had been a rape of sorts. A rape of his mind, body and soul, but Eric was not ready to accept that yet. Nor did he want to face the fact that someone was out there, someone unknown who was more powerful than he was. An evil soul that had targeted Eric. Shelly had been right.

The Crow came to the window then and cawed, breaking Eric's reverie. He gasped as he accepted the images sent to him, of Mulder leaving the hospital and being followed. Of the black van that represented danger. Eric surged to his feet and ran for the door. A moment later he was gone.

"ERIC!" Albrecht shouted, running after him. But by the time he reached the street the young man was gone in a roar of exhaust. Leaving Albrecht standing on the pavement in the early dawn.

At 5:27 in the morning there weren't that many doctors around, so it had taken Mulder about half an hour to round up a doctor to sign Scully's release orders. He'd spent the night in an uncomfortable chair in her room and by morning he was tired and irritable, his back aching from the awkward position he'd slept in. And when Scully had awoken to announce that she was ready to leave, he'd been more than happy to go off and find a doctor, as eager to be out of the hospital as she was.

There had been no activity during the night, not surprising given that the Bureau had placed agents in the hospital and "encouraged" the hospital administrator to double their late-night security team. With visiting hours cut off at 8:00 PM, it had been easy to control the amount of traffic on the third floor and restrict access.

Tucking Scully into the passenger side of the rental car, Mulder rounded the car to go to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel, adjusting the rearview mirror and watching as a pair of dark-suited men got into a car. Agents set to watch him and make certain that he headed back to the local Bureau office, as he was supposed to.

"Anything wrong?" asked Scully, wincing as she turned her head a little to look at Mulder with surprisingly sharp eyes.

"Just checking on our little entourage," responded Mulder lightly as he started the car and backed out of the parking place. Cast Scully a sideways glance, noting her pallor and the lines of pain around her mouth. Considered asking her if it was wise to leave the hospital so soon but knew what her answer would be; she would give him that patented Scully look, one eyebrow arched and blue eyes steely, mouth set in a firm line. "Sooo...where to, lady?"

"The Bureau office," said Scully firmly, giving him a no-nonsense look as she settled back against the seat.

"I thought we could check out the Sun--see when the last time Scott Warren was to work...what he was working on. There should be someone at the paper's offices--it's after six," said Mulder, glancing at his watch as he came to the driveway leading out of the parking lot. Signalling for a right, he checked the road and then glanced at Scully, seeing her stern look. "What? It's a legitimate lead."

"Mulder..." Scully let out a sigh and brushed hair from her eyes, fingers skimming across the white bandage that adorned her forehead. "There have been two attempts on your life. The potential assassin doesn't seem too terribly concerned about who gets in the way. Not only do you endanger your life by remaining outside of protective custody, you endanger the lives of others."

Mulder's jaw tightened and he stared straight ahead, fingers closing hard on the steering wheel. "Protective custody didn't work out that great either, Scully."

"Those deaths are not your fault...but you have to take into account the possibility that you are risking other lives in addition to your own. The wisest course of action at this time is for the both of us to go underground until this is worked out," said Scully firmly. "There are a great many of capable agents that can carry out this investigation."

Mulder shook his head stubbornly. "This is happening because of me, Scully. Something that someone thinks I know. So we sit back and let the Bureau take over--then what happens, Scully? This killer or killers--they fade into the woodwork. Eventually the Bureau decides that there's no longer a threat and the case is shelved. And I walk out into the hallway one morning to pick up my paper and bam!" He slapped his hand against the steering wheel and Scully jumped at the loud sound. "I'm dead. That sound like a wise course of action, Scully?"

Scully sighed again and gave a small shake of her head, leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the window. He was too damned stubborn for his own good... "You're not going to ditch me, Mulder. I'm not going to let you face this alone. We go this together...or I call Special Agent Wheeler and tell him I think you needed to be placed in a lock-up for your own protection."

Mulder shot her a look. "You wouldn't--" And bit off his words, knowing from the expression she gave him that she would indeed. "Okay," he said grudgingly. "So are we going to the Sun or not--"

"Mulder!" said Scully sharply, reaching out to brace herself on the dashboard as a car darted in front of them.

Muttering a curse, Mulder slammed on the brakes and felt his heart surge in his throat as the other car loomed impossibly large before them, expecting at another moment to feel the jarring impact, but at the last moment the car cleared theirs, accelerating to leave them sitting in the road. Mulder drew a shaky hand through his hair, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart, and looked sideways at Scully. "You okay--" From the corner of his eye he caught a flash of black and a van came to a halt beside their car, dark clad figures spilling out to surround the car, weapons drawn.

One masked figure slapped Mulder's window and pointed at the lock with one hand, the other aiming a gun squarely at him, giving him the choice of coming out...or dying in the car. Looking sideways at Scully, Mulder saw another figure at her door and Scully met his gaze, tight-lipped with a flicker of fear in her eyes. Slowly she unlocked the door and it was hauled open, one figure reaching in to grasp her arm and pull her out of the car. Popping the lock on his door, Mulder opened it and was dragged out as well to be shoved down onto the hood of the car as he was quickly and efficiently searched, his gun yanked free from its position at his belt.

Across the hood he could see Scully receiving similar treatment and tried to give her an encouraging look but a hand grasped the back of his coat and hauled him up to spin him around. Before him stood a tall, heavy-set man, eyes the color of dirty ice and completely empty of emotion, his hands empty of weapons as he stood before Mulder.

"Agent Mulder. We have a few questions we wish to ask you."

"Well, if you give me a minute to check my appointment book, I'll see if I can clear some time for you--" Mulder patted his pockets and felt inside his coat, his brow furrowing as his search failed to turn up his appointment book. Lifting his hands helplessly, he said, "Must have left it in my other coat. Hey, if you give me a name and number I can get back to--"

A curt nod from the man and one of his compatriots stepped to drive his fist into Mulder's stomach. He folded over with an explosive exhale, coughing as he struggled to drag air back into his lungs, and heard as if from a distance Scully call his name. With an effort, he struggled up to a standing position, leaning against the car, and saw one of the men with a gun to Scully's head.

"Get in the van...or we splatter her brains on the windshield," said the man with the pale eyes conversationally.

"Mulder, no." That from Scully, glaring at him as he took a step away from the car, her eyes flitting quickly around the circle of six figures. Scully with the heart and courage of a lion, determined to go down fighting with him...something he couldn't bear to keep on his conscience.

"It's...okay, Scully," he managed to say, forcing a sickly smile as he took another step to the van. His heart thudded in his chest at the sight of the black van, knowing that going in there meant his death.

"Mulder--"

He ignored her anguished call, stepping past the leader and closer to the van, drawing in a deep breath to steady himself, and as he came into an arm's length of the van, there came a shout. He turned in surprise in time to see a dark figure burst into the midst of the others, a whirlwind of energy that took down one man with a kick to the head, dropping to its knees as another fired on him and sweeping the man's legs out from under him. Did a rolling somersault to bring himself to the feet of the apparent leader and grasped the man's wrist to give his arm a sharp twist, a sickening crack and the man's howl of pain indicating that he had broken his arm. Hitting him backhanded, the dark figure sent him sprawling and turned to Mulder...

To reveal himself to be Eric.

"Down!" said Eric and reached out to place his hand on the top of Mulder's head, pushing him down and at the same time swinging his legs out and around to connect with his attacker's chin. Whirled to place himself between Mulder and the other two...and staggered back at the impact of the bullets, his body jerking with each sledge-hammer blow. Thrown back against the van's door, he slid down it to lie in a crumpled heap on the ground, seemingly...dead.

Kicking one man in the back of the knee, Scully yanked his gun free and fired on the second, sending him sprawling to the ground. Turned her gun on another as he stumbled to his feet and sent him down as well, racing around the car to reach Mulder and haul him up.

"Eric--"

"In the car, Mulder!" shouted Scully, shoving him at the car, and dropped to her knees beside Eric, reaching out to press two fingers to the side of his throat...and finding no pulse. She drew back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and turned away...not seeing Eric's body give a jerk, gasping convulsively as flaccid lungs drew in air, returning to life with a jolt. Felt a tug on her trouser leg and jerked free, aiming her gun at what she thought to be an enemy...only to stare in shock at the young man that had been...dead.

"Car..." he wheezed, extending his arm to her.

Swallowing hard, Scully grasped his arm to drag him up, shoving him at the car. His strength returning, he reached out to open the door and half-climbed, half-fell inside, Scully shoving him over to clamber in behind him. Hitting the back of the seat, she shouted to Mulder, "Go! Go!"

Gunning the engine, Mulder shifted into reverse and with a squeal of tires sent the car backwards, spinning the wheel and shifting into forward, gears grinding in protest. And took off down the road, not even slowing as he made the first turn.

An hour later, after a wild ride of twists and turns through the city streets, they arrived at their destination, directed there by Eric. They followed Eric up the stairs, both unusually silent, and through the front door of what had once been his apartment, Eric shutting the door behind them.

"You should be safe here...for a little while, at least..." he said softly.

Nodding, Mulder sank down onto the steps near the window, rubbing his sore stomach, and Scully looked from Mulder to Eric and then back, her eyebrows drawing down in a frown. "Okay...what the hell is going on here, Mulder? Where do you know him from? And how--how--" She shook her head in disbelief, remembering seeing the bullets strike the mysterious young man, saw him fall--had touched him, had known that he was dead...and yet here he was...

"A minute to catch my breath, okay, Scully? Then you get the whole story..." said Mulder wearily. "Believe it or not..."

Scully listened to Mulder's explanation in stunned disbelief, partially believing his story only because she had seen Eric in action and the young man had allowed her to examine him.

After changing clothes, Eric had returned to listen to Mulder and Scully exchange theories. He felt surprisingly tired. Drained. Sitting down on the steps he heaved a sigh and buried his face in his hands. A part of him wondered what his guests would think if they had seen him in Crow makeup. So far, Eric had protected them without changing. He wasn't sure why. Not that he had any control over the Crow. He didn't. And that puzzled him now as well. In similar situations in the past, Eric had always changed. Should have changed when he had rescued Mulder and Scully this last time. He was stronger and quicker, more indestructible than ever in Crow form. But the transformation had not been made. Why?

"Eric?"

"Yes?" He glanced up to see Mulder standing over him, the other man's face wearing a worried look.

Mulder bit his lip as he studied the young man, uncertain of how to proceed. Of how to ask him to protect Scully when they were little more than strangers. And Eric was strange, to say the least. "I need your help," Mulder began.

Eric let a smile curve his lips. "I know. I told you I would help you," he reminded the other man.

"I remember," Mulder acknowledged. "I still don't understand why, though." It was a feeble attempt to elicit an explanation.

"I have my reasons!" Eric hissed, his smile fading. He rose gracefully to his feet, ignoring a sudden twinge of pain in his back and legs. He shouldn't be feeling pain and a flutter of panic occurred. What if he were becoming more human again? What if he would be separated from Shelly and stuck in this world. Back in his old life...without her? The thought terrified Eric. Without Shelly, he had no purpose.

Mulder gripped Eric's arm, feeling the bicep bulge beneath his fingers as he held the young man back. "I need you to protect Scully," Mulder blurted out.

Suddenly Eric realized what Mulder was asking and why. The other man intended to continue his investigation on his own. Risking certain death and not caring, so long as his partner was safe. But Eric could not allow that. Neither of them could die. It was important somehow, for Mulder and Scully were connected. Two souls united, if not two hearts. "No!" he snapped out, yanking free of Mulder's grasp.

"No?" Mulder echoed, in disbelief. "I thought you said you were going to help us?" he shouted, feeling angry now. Eric owed him nothing, yet Mulder felt betrayed suddenly.

"I will help you, and protect you," Eric whispered, his dark eyes glittering like black ice. "Both of you," he emphasized. "You're going to stay here, Mulder. If you leave you will die." It was a simple statement of fact and they both knew it.

Mulder sighed, then shook his head. "If I just sit here I'll never find out who wants me dead. This will never end, Eric."

Reaching out, Eric touched Mulder's shoulder then let his hand drop. He frowned as he heard a voice in his head, laughing. Shook it away then focused on the man before him, yet Eric couldn't shake away the chill that permeated his body. Evil had touched him once more. "I'll make it end," Eric promised, heading for the door. "I'll find out what you need to know...about Scott Warren. And Constance Lowry," Eric added as an afterthought. He knew that she was part of the threat and so would start there.

"Let me go with you!" Mulder pleaded, following Eric to the door. "You can protect me."

"And who would protect Scully while we're both gone?" Eric countered, glancing over at the pretty red-head who scowled at him. He knew that she had an independent spirit. Like Shelly. Eric admired Scully's strength and courage, but he also recognized that she and Mulder needed to stay together. They were each other's greatest strength. "Stay put for now," Eric beseeched Mulder. "I have to take care of something and I have to do it alone. I'll be back," he promised, pushing Mulder back inside the room.

Mulder sighed and accepted defeat. He knew Eric was right. He should stay with Scully. "Hey...bring back some food would ya?" A search of the place had revealed an empty fridge that wasn't even plugged in and bare cupboards.

Eric waved at Mulder. "I will," he replied, then he was gone.

Sarah smiled as she opened the door to reveal Eric. "What's up?" she asked, hoping he had come to over her some adventure. Sarah's mother was at work and Sarah was bored. So bored that she had even done her homework.

Eric held out a twenty dollar bill. "Get some groceries and take them to my place," he requested.

"You're eating now?" Sarah countered in surprise, accepting the money and stuffing it in her pocket. She knew that the twenty was precious to Eric for he barely made enough to pay rent on his old apartment.

"No.... But I have guests who do," Eric replied. He reached out and covered Sarah's mouth before she could ask more questions. "I don't have time to explain now," he told her. "Do as I ask and answer any questions they might have about me. Tell them I trust you."

Sarah shoved Eric's hand away but caught his sleeve as he turned away. "So....what are their names?" she queried, hopefully.

Eric sighed, feeling stupid for having forgotten to tell her. "Mulder and Scully," he stated, then he pulled free of her grip and glided away.

"Kewl," Sarah whispered, as she reached for her coat then headed out herself. She had the feeling she would no longer be bored.

Albrecht was not surprised to find Eric on his doorstep. It was one of his rare days off and he was home, trying to goof off but having a hard time at it. Albrecht was used to being busy. To working. That was his life. His purpose. And, in between, he fit in moments with Cordelia. But she was gone for the week, visiting a friend out of state. So Albrecht was actually glad to see Eric. Glad, and concerned. His friend did not look well. Not that Albrecht knew how a, technically, dead man was supposed to look. "Let me guess," Albrecht drawled as he gestured for Eric to enter his home. "You were in the neighborhood and decided to drop in?"

Eric was in no mood for humor. "I need your help," he stated bluntly, then he gasped as pain knifed through him and his knees buckled.

"Whoa!" Albrecht hissed, as he caught Eric. He suddenly realized he was supporting a dead weight and lifted the younger man in his arms to carry him to the livingroom. Albrecht place Eric on the couch then studied him. Something was terribly wrong. For one thing he was hot. Fever hot, and Albrecht somehow doubted that was normal for a dead man. Even one who had come back to life. "Eric," he breathed. "What's going on here, man?" He slapped Eric's face and watched the eyelids flutter open. "I'm calling an ambulance," Albrecht decided, when he saw how dilated and glassy the young man's eyes were.

"No!" Eric whispered, weakly gripping Albrecht's arm. "They can't...help me," he stated, wincing at another wave of pain. Eric knew what was making him ill. It could only be one thing. Magic. A powerful, spiritual, force of some kind. The one who had touched him before, who had violated him, was back. Stronger than ever. "I'll be...all right..." Eric gasped, as the wave of pain eased.

Albrecht shook his head, not believing Eric for one minute. "You need help, my friend," he stated firmly.

Eric attempted a weak smile. "Who could have me?" he countered, attempting to sit up but falling back when the pain returned full force. He rode out the wave then concentrated on regulating his breathing sufficiently so that he could speak. "This is...something I don't...understand," Eric gasped. "And...we both know...there is...no doctor...who can understand what I am."

"True enough," Albrecht conceded, reluctantly. "But you're in bad shape, Eric. What do you want me to do?"

"I need your help, a background check on someone," Eric replied. He felt dizzy and weak, but fought off the sensations. Mulder and Scully needed him to be strong. But the force that was attacking him was far stronger. Eric heard the laughter in his head again.

Albrecht was confused and let it show. "A background check on who?" he prompted. "And why?"

Eric felt the vibration of the force as it tried to enter his mind again. Could feel the light burning inside him and felt violated once more. He began to shake and could not speak.

"Shit!" Albrecht muttered, reaching for a blanket. He covered Eric with it then pulled the young man into his arms, not knowing what else to do. He was relieved when the shaking stopped after a few minutes, but he could feel how heavily Eric lay against him. The vibrant and preternaturally strong young man was as helpless as a baby now. "Eric..." Albrecht whispered, as he stroked sweat dampened hair from the pale face.

"Constance...Lowry," Eric breathed. But that was all he could manage before darkness claimed him, only to be swallowed by the light.

"Eric..." Albrecht stared down into pale slack features and freed a hand to touch the young man on the cheek, muttering a curse as he felt the heat of his skin. Gave him a shake and the young man's body lolled limply in his arms with the bonelessness of the utter...dead.

"Shit." Gently he laid Eric down on the couch, pulling the blanket up over him, and stood staring down at the limp form for a long moment, hands on his hips. If he'd been anyone else, Albrecht would have had packed away in an ambulance right now...but what Eric had said was true. Doctors couldn't help him--what the hell could he do?

"Shit," he muttered again and went to the phone. Least he could do was run the check Eric had asked him to do...and after that...all he could do was just watch him. Dialing downtown, he asked for Don Parker's extension and watched Eric as he waited for the man to pick up.

"Parker."

"Yeah, Parker, I need you to do me a favor, run a background check for me."

On the other end Parker laughed. "Man, Albrecht, you're supposed to be off today! You know what they say about all work and no play--"

"Yeah, yeah," said Albrecht impatiently. "Do the check, wise guy, okay?"

"You're certifiable, man. If I was you...I'd be kicking back with a six-pack...not hounding my fellow officers that actually have to work." Another chuckled from Parker and a rustle of paper. "Okay, give me the name."

"Constance Lowry," said Albrecht, picking up the phone to carry it with him a little closer to the couch, watching as Eric twitched on the couch.

"Lowry..." repeated Parker. "Now what am I looking for?"

"Anything. Run the name through the DMV, through our database, through the national database. And hit up that contact at the CIA you're always bragging about. If she's even got a ticket for jaywalking, I wanna know about it."

"You'll owe me a big one for this," warned Parker. "Okay, want me to call you back or what?"

"Fax me anything you come up with. Got my fax number?"

"Oh, yeah, right next to the number for my priest," said Parker dryly. "I'll run the name through--I should get something back to you in about an hour or so."

"I'll be here. Thanks, man." Hanging up the phone, Albrecht replaced it on the table and walked slowly over to where Eric lay on the couch, stomach knotting with anxiety as he watched the young man twist on the couch, hands lifting to hold out before him--palms outward--as if he were seeking to ward something off. Wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, wake him out of whatever dream the young man might be happening...but remembered how Eric had reacted last time. Had almost broken Albrecht's hand for just touching...and he had no idea how Eric would react to a more psychical shaking.

At his open window, the curtains fluttered and the beating of wings drew Albrecht's attention, to see a black crow settle on the window sill. Albrecht glared at the crow and snapped, "Well...aren't you going to help him?" Felt stupid for talking to a bird...but his worry for Eric overrode his skepticism. For answer, the bird merely started to preen its feathers with its beak, seemingly unconcerned.

Growling a curse, Albrecht went to grab a chair and pulled it up close to the couch so that he could keep an eye on Eric, rubbing his chin restlessly.

The light roiled over him, consuming him like a hungry flame, penetrating skin and muscle, slipping deep into the most intimate and secret parts of himself, wrapping itself around him. Bright and blinding, burning even through clenched eyelids, and Eric lifted his hands in a vain attempt to push it away only to jerk as it struck deep into him. Struggled to prevent it from reaching into his mind but his resistance was slowly inexorably eroded, the light proving insidious, worming its way through the smallest cracks in his mental armor. Tearing great wide rents out of those small crevices, so that the light could spill into him.

::Shelly...:: He tried to call out to his love but he had no voice, no control over his body. Pain wracked him, pain of the flesh and spirit, as it closed around him, and a voice spoke in his mind, soft and seductive.

::Surrender to me.:: it whispered in his mind, a gentle caress across him, offering a cool balm against the fire. ::Give me yourself...and there will be no more pain.::

Whimpering he shook his head, unable to speak a denial, and his body arched as the flame burned higher, the heat driving all thoughts and concerns from his mind, transfixing him. From the depths of him came a wordless cry of agony and he convulsed against the crushing pain...

::Eric!:: A shining light appeared in the darkness, a glowing arm reaching for him, and he flinched back from it, moaning in distress. It came on, touching him, and with that contact the flame receded, yowling. Eric opened eyes to see Shelly before him, her hands gently running over him, the light retreating before the soothing touch of her hands, till it was gone.

In the darkness a figure appeared, the silvery flame given form, snarling its anger, throbbing a sullen red before it vanished. Eric reached weakly for Shelly but his hands passed through hers, her form slowly fading. ::Beware, Eric...:: she called even as she vanished.

"Don't...go..." he whispered thickly.

"Eric?"

The anxious sound of Albrecht's voice penetrated his mind and Eric opened eyes gritty with exhaustion to look up at Albrecht hovering over him. Felt Albrecht take his hand and allowed his eyes to close, too drained from his spiritual battle to keep his eyes open. "What the hell is going on?" demanded Albrecht, the gruff anger in his voice failing to hide his concern.

"Don't...know." Even with the healing touch of Shelly's hands, Eric still felt the residue of the violation of mind and soul and turned away from Albrecht, curling in on himself, trembling. Rubbed hands over his arms as if he could scrub the touch of it from himself, eradicate the memory of it penetrating him.

"Eric..." He cringed at the touch of Albrecht's hand on his shoulders, muscles tightening under Albrecht's hand, and to his relief Albrecht drew back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You gonna be okay?" But from Eric there was no answer as he curled tighter in on himself and Albrecht rose from his crouch, frustrated that there was nothing he could do. And even more frustrated because he had no idea of what was happening here. What did a dead man have to fear?

And realized with a chilly stab of fear that he didn't want to know.

"Well?"

At the single harsh word she lifted her head, hands smoothing back hair the same inky black of a raven's wing, the sleeves of her crimson velvet gown falling back to bare slim forearms. Smiled her mysterious smile, deriving pleasure from the irritation it provoked in the man with his dark expensive silk suits, the smoke from his cigar forming a halo around his head, and moved slowly around her altar, a delicate hand extending to touch the blood-slickened feathers of the still form of a crow there. Not the crow she wished to have...but it had served its purpose well, its blood enabling her a toehold on the spirit that she wished to bind. And with that toehold she had come very close...

Her smile faded at the thought of how close she had come...only to be cast out. The young man had been nearly hers, his resistance severely weakened, knowing not how to fight her--but the one he was bound to had known. She slid hands over her forearms as if chilled, remembering the purifying power that had cast her out and how it had burned her, as her power had burned the young man. In time she would find a way to block their bond...

"He is strong," she said aloud to the dark-suited man. "I told you this would be no easy thing. It will take time..."

Dragging on his cigar, the man exhaled a cloud of smoke and tapped the cigar, sending a drift of ash to the floor. "But you will be able to deliver...right?" There was a note of menace in his voice, eyes flat and merciless as that of a snake. With that look he could make strong men tremble...but she had a harsher master than he...and this man--with all his posturing--did not frighten her.

"I will require a...stronger sacrifice," she said silkily. "Bring me something young and innocent...and I may rouse enough power to bind this Crow to you."

Nodding curtly the man left her and she went to the altar, extending a hand to once more touch the dead crow. With a single sibilant syllable, the crow burst into flame, soon crumbling into ash that drifted away from the altar on the wings of a light breeze.

Eric had fallen asleep. The realization of that fact occurred only once he felt himself awaken to consciousness the way he had done so in the past. Before his death. Eric swallowed and felt another sensation he thought to be long gone. Thirst. Things that living souls experienced, not dead souls like himself. Fear washed over Eric and he wondered if he were changing back into being human again. Weak and vulnerable. If he were losing his path back to Shelly. "No..." Eric whispered, as he forced aching muscles to lift him from the couch. Took two steps before he collapsed to his knees.

Albrecht had dozed off in a nearby chair and he heard the thump of a body falling. "Eric!" he hissed, leaping out of his chair when he saw that the young man lay on the floor. Had to lift him again and carry him back to the couch. "How you feel?" Albrecht queried, pressing his palm to Eric's forehead. It was cooler than before, but still too warm.

"Thirsty," Eric replied, knowing that it was not the answer Albrecht was seeking, but he was searching for answers himself. "Could...Could I have...some water?" Eric requested.

"Sure...be right back," Albrecht answered, before dashing off to the kitchen. He brought back a tumbler of the cool liquid and supported the young man as Eric drank it down. Taking back the empty glass, Albrecht studied his guest. "Um...I thought you didn't need food or water...or sleep?" he challenged.

Eric closed his eyes and turned his head away. The fear was back for the water had eased his thirst. Further proof that he was changing. A part of Eric felt that he should be happy, excited even. But all he felt was terror. If he lived again, he would lose Shelly for certain. What scared him the most was the fact that Eric was certain that the spirit that was trying to claim him was causing the change. And that it was somehow connected to Mulder and the assassins that had targeted the FBI agent. "What did you find out about Constance Lowry?" Eric countered, avoiding Albrecht's question. He wasn't ready to face the reality of it.

Albrecht let Eric off the hook, for now. "I found out something very interesting," he allowed. "Constance Lowry died six years ago, my friend. And I've got paperwork and pictures to prove it."

"Show me!" Eric hissed, making another attempt to rise from the couch as the implication of Albrecht's words sunk in.

"Whoa...stay put and I will," Albrecht countered, pressing a firm hand against Eric's chest. "I don't need you collapsing on me again," he warned.

Eric nodded, leaning back against the pillows. He didn't have the strength to rise anyway, but there was a tingling in his blood now that led him to believe that he was healing. That Shelly's touch would give him back what the other had tried to steal. He would just have to be patient. "I'll stay put," Eric promised, but his eyes glittered as he watched Albrecht retrieve a file folder.

Holding out the folder, Albrecht studied Eric's face. He thought that the younger man looked a bit less pale and he hoped that was a good sign. "This is everything I've got," Albrecht announced. "You owe me, Eric."

"Anything you want," Eric promised, as he took the file and opened it. A quick scan of its contents led him to believe that there was only one truth. Constance Lowry was like himself. A dead soul come back to life. Since his return, Eric had learned that there were others, but he had wanted to believe that they were all connected to hope and peace. To restoring the balance between life and death. But he had met a man a few months back who was evil. Now there was Constance, who had an interesting history.

"She was a fun girl in her day," Albrecht drawled as he sat down in his chair again. Then he recounted the highlights from Constance Lowry's file. "She killed three people before she died in prison. Racked up her first body at age seventeen. She was a cold bitch."

Eric nodded. "She's smart too, and more dangerous than ever. She's alive again, Albrecht." Eric made his announcement and waited for the truth to hit the other man.

Albrecht rubbed his hands over his face then sighed. "So...there are more like you?" he stated.

"Yes...but they're not back for the same reason as me," Eric replied. He made another attempt to shift on the couch and managed to sit up on the edge without too much difficulty. A moment later he was standing.

"Maybe you should rest some more," Albrecht suggested, rising to his feet as well in case Eric should collapse again.

Forcing a smile, Eric shook his head. "I have to go," he stated, closing the file and tucking it under his arm before heading for the door. Only to find his way blocked. "Don't ask me for an explanation right now," Eric beseeched his friend. "I can't tell you what I don't know."

Albrecht heaved a sigh of frustration. "All right...I won't ask," he conceeded. "But I do have a request."

"Name it," Eric prompted, knowing that he owed Albrecht that much.

"Use the cell phone I gave you and call me later," the detective replied. "I want to know you're okay, Eric." Albrecht shook his head and laughed. "I guess even dead men can have a bad day."

Eric found himself smiling back. "I'll call," he promised. "Thanks." With that he headed for the door, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows of the night.

"I gotta go," Sarah announced to Mulder and Scully. She had brought them groceries as Eric had requested and had ended up staying with the duo for over three hours. "My mom is working late," Sarah explained. "But if I don't beat her home I'll be grounded for sure." The thought would have upset most kids, but Sarah found herself smiling. It felt good having a mom who now cared enough to notice when she was late, and loved her enough to punish her for being bad. "See you guys later," Sarah stated, waving goodbye to Scully, then she saluted Mulder and headed on her way.

Scully was smiling, but concerned. "It's late, Mulder. Sarah shouldn't be out at night by herself."

Mulder chuckled. "She's a tough little girl," he stated, his admiration shining through in the tone of his voice. "I bet she can take care of herself. She reminds me of you, Scully," Mulder added, then he yelped as an apple struck him in the gut. Glaring at Scully he muttered, "What? That was supposed to be a compliment."

"Oops," Scully countered, tossing a second apple in the air and grinning. "My mistake." But the smile soon faded as she headed for the broken window and peered out into the night. A shiver danced up Scully's spine. Something told her that danger lurked below...watching them all. And waiting.

Sarah was whistling as she slipped into the side alley. It was a shortcut to home and she wasn't the least bit afraid. But she would have been had she seen what lurked in the darkness. Too late she sensed a presence. Strong hands grabbed her and held her, silencing her screams as a needle point pricked her skin. A heartbeat later she fell into darkness.

Eric was three blocks from home when the vision hit him. Sarah floating in darkness. Pain hit Eric then, making the motorcyle weave from lane to lane before he was able to gain control back. And with the pain came the echo of dark laughter. "No!" Eric shouted, as he revved the engine and urged the bike to greater speeds.

::::You're too late:::: mocked the voice.

But Eric kept going.

Solange could feel Eric's anger. The Crow was a formidable opponent indeed. But she was stronger than he was, made so by her knowledge of the spirit forces. They were hers to command. And now she had the child. The innocent whose blood would bind Eric Draven to her forever.

The vision led Eric to the waterfront and a warehouse with a FOR LEASE sign hanging in one window, its windows covered with a thick layer of grime to prevent the casual passerby from a glimpse inside. Dismounting from his motorcycle, he strode to a side door and paused before it, deciding his course of action. Given that he was no doubt expected, he thought that subtlety wasn't needed here...and so he kicked in the door.

The warehouse was dark and empty, threaded here and there with the thin gossamer strands of webs, and Eric made his way across the floor, his footsteps echoing through the vast room, letting his instinct guide him. He could feel Sarah here, her fear an almost tangible force, and it stoked his rage, that someone would use her to get to him. The darkness here was not merely the absence of light--it was the residue of evil acts that had been committed here, a miasma that clung to the walls and hung in the air.

At last he came to a small hallway and followed it to a door that hung ajar. With his foot he pushed it open and candles fluttered with the light breath of air that issued through the door, their flickering flame illuminating the scarlet-robed figure that stood before an altar. The figure turned at his entrance, revealing itself to be that of a young woman with long ebony hair, full red lips curved in a smile full of satisfaction.

"Hello, Eric," she purred, shifting position so that he could see the bound Sarah laid out on the altar. Sarah's head turned towards him, her eyes pleading with him as she made gutteral sounds through the thick cloth serving as a gag, and she pulled vainly at tied wrists and feet, making whimpering sounds of frustration.

"Sarah..." whispered Eric in anguish, taking a step forward, and the woman reached out to stroke Sarah's hair, fingers knotting in the golden strands as Sarah tried to twist away from her.

"Such a lovely child...so...innocent. Think of what I can do to her, Eric--how I can twist her and mold her, use her--" The woman smiled, slow and dark, and Eric's hands clenched into fists as he strode forward, coming up to the altar, the woman fading back before him. As he reached the altar, he saw beyond it a table and on it a bowl...and a knife set next to it. A knife whose blade was slick with something dark and wet...

"Blood of the innocent...to bind you." And with a triumphant smile, the woman spoke in a harsh voice, her hands gesturing at Eric. Light issued from her hands to wrap him in its fiery embrace and he fell to his knees, arms pressed to his sides as the light constricted around him, driving the breath from him. Struggling against the grip of the light, he fell to his side, muscles jerking spasmodically with his resistance, and with an effort he rolled to his stomach, straining to bring his hands under him and push up, the muscles and tendons standing out as he managed to raise himself up to his feet under him.

Sarah... was his one driving thought, enabling him to resist the crushing force of the woman's spell. Though muscles sang with pain and his vision dimmed to a red haze from the pain that blazed through him, he staggered to the altar and reached out to rip away the ropes that bound Sarah. The woman snarled in rage and spat words, the light flaring to drive deep into him...and send him sprawling again onto his side.

Sarah rolled off the altar and dropped to her knees beside Eric, tears on her cheeks, the remnants of the rope hanging off her wrists like odd little bracelets. Though every instinct in her screamed for her to run, she couldn't leave here...not without Eric...even though she was quaking with fear. The witch hadn't hurt her, not that bad...but with a child's instinct, she had known that the woman would do much worse to her if she could.

"Eric--" Sarah tugged ineffectually at his arm, casting a glare at the woman that was no less angry for the tears that still stained her cheeks. "What did you do to him?"

"Captured him," said the woman, eyes glowing with malevolence.

"Eric, c'mon--" Again Sarah tried to pull him up but Eric lifted a trembling hand to push her away, panting with the effort of resisting.

"Go--" He managed to say between breaths, a groan escaping him, and gave her a harder push. "Go!"

With an anguished cry, Sarah got to her feet and whispered, "I'll be back with help." Giving the woman another glare, Sarah ran for the door and disappeared from sight.

Solange ignored the fleeing child, concentrating completely on the figure that lay sprawled at the foot of her altar. Watched as his resistance faded with his strength, until there was nothing to keep her from seizing control...

Given that there wasn't anything to cook on, dinner for Scully and Mulder consisted of sandwiches, eaten on the steps leading up to the broken window. They were quiet as they ate, each caught up in their own thoughts, the silence between them a comfortable one...

Broken by the sudden entrance of Sarah, bursting into the apartment and sending both agents to their feet, Mulder fumbling for his gun and moving to shield Scully...only to relax at seeing Sarah. It was to Scully that Sarah went, breathing hard, wild-eyed with her panic and fear, and Scully knelt before her, gripping the thin shoulders in her hands to steady Sarah.

"What's wrong?" she asked calmly.

Sarah drew in a deep breath, trembling in Scully's grip, tears shining in her eyes. "Eric--there's this woman...she's got him...she's holding him--we have to help him--" Her eyes went from Scully to Mulder's, pleading with them.

"Let's go," said Mulder grimly, moving to go past them...but Sarah caught his coat sleeve, shaking her head emphatically.

"Gotta get help first--there's a cop--he knows about Eric--"

"Take us to him," said Mulder, laying a reasurring hand on Sarah's shoulder.

Scrubbing at her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat, Sarah nodded and said, "Follow me..." And rushed back out of the door, Mulder and Scully following on her heels.

Sarah told her story, her eyes flitting from face to face. She saw acceptance of her tale in Mulder's eyes, disbelief warring with acceptance in Albrecht's dark gaze, but Scully only shook her head. Sarah didn't blame her, but that didn't change the truth. "This...Solange...I think she's a Voodoo priestess," Sarah continued, locking eyes with Mulder as she spoke.

He believed her, for he had seen Voodoo at work in the past. "I don't understand what Eric is, but Voodoo is power magic. He won't be able to fight it alone."

"Wait a minute here," Albrecht interjected. He moved to stand before Sarah and his expression was stern. "How do you know about Voodoo?" Albrecht demanded.

"From school," Sarah replied, with a shrug.

It was Scully's turn to interject. "They teach you Voodoo in School?" she stated, disbelief glinting in her blue eyes.

Sarah shook her head and smirked. "I got it off the internet. I've been doing some web surfing for Eric, to help him understand what he's become."

"What he's become is a young man in grave danger," Mulder replied, inching his way to the door. They were in Albrecht's house and now that they had the details of Sarah's story, Mulder was anxious to be in action. He sensed that there might be a connection to what was happening to him. He just couldn't figure out what that might be.

"In a minute," Albrecht countered, blocking Mulder's way. He didn't want to believe Sarah's story, but found himself doing so. After the things he had seen Eric do, and the sickness the young man had suffered right here in this house only a few hours ago, Albrecht knew he had to believe. And he knew that Eric was in grave danger. But there was more to this story that hadn't been told. "Before we go anywhere, you're going to tell me your story, Agent Mulder," Albrecht stated, emphatically.

Sarah wanted to kick something in frustration, but settled for glaring at Albrecht. "He can tell you on the way!" she hissed, hands on hips and defiance surrounding her like an aura. Sarah cared about nothing but rescuing Eric. He was the only one that mattered now. "We've got to get back to the warehouse before they're gone!"

Albrecht sighed, then nodded. "You're right," he conceded, reaching for his jacket. He didn't have the heart to tell Sarah what he was thinking. That Eric and the priestess Solange would be long gone by the time they got there. But there was always hope. Albrecht led the way out and found himself praying for a miracle as they piled in his car and sped off into the night.

"Mine...pretty one," Solange purred as she danced around the bed that Eric lay upon. He wrists were bound to the headboard with thin twine. Nothing stronger was needed, for the rope was smeared with Sarah's blood. Blood of the innocent child. That would hold Eric better than chains could.

"Mine, daughter," drawled a deep voice as a sudden shadow seemed to cloak the room in darkness.

Solange whirled from the bed then fell to her knees before the man who entered. Her father. The man she loved and hated...and feared. "Papalaja," Solange whispered, as she prostrated herself before him. "Forgive me...he is yours."

Papalaja smiled down at his only child. He liked her on her knees and obedient to him. Perhaps he would allow her to indulge in her lust for the Crow. As a reward for serving him so well. "You have done well, daughter," Papalaja whispered.

"Thank you," Solange replied, tears welling up in her eyes. Her father was the most powerful of all the Voodoo priests and his praise was rare, but precious. She raised her head and saw him nod, so Solange rose gracefully to her feet.

"Come my dear," Papalaja beseeched her. "We must go now and prepare for the ritual." With that he raised one hand and seemed to fade away into smoke and shadows.

Gregory stood before his master and smiled to see that the other was pleased. "Solange has done as you had hoped," Gregory announced. "The Crow is bound by her power."

Bastian smiled from the shadows. "You've done well, Gregory," he conceded. And so the man had, for a human. But then mortals were so easily fooled. Even Solange, for all her powers had no clue to the truth. She believed that Gregory was merely the liason for the governments who had formed the alliance of the immortal assassasins. She had no idea who Gregory's true master was. That he, Bastian, was the Prince of Darkness. Solange's father, Papalaja was powerful magic, but he did not control the darkness. Bastian did. And now he wanted to control the light. The light being Eric Draven. He was not like the other immortals. And it was for that reason that Bastian had waited so patiently for a thousand years.

Being an ancient one, referred to nowadays as a vampire, was something that Bastian thrived on. He was not made, but born. He was all powerful, yet defeated by one entity. The light. But Eric was the light within the darkness, and binding with him would give Bastian all he had ever dreamed of. Power over night and day. He would rule the world and the humans would be his servants as well as his food, and the other immortals would kneel at his feet and beg to serve him as well. "You will be well paid for your services, Gregory," Bastian drawled, as he stepped out of the shadows. He smiled as he watched Gregory take an involuntary step back at the sight of him. Bastian knew he was a bit overwhelming. More immortal than human. Stronger and almost glowing with a dark light, his power obvious in his size and in the red burn of his eyes.

Gregory forced himself to breath again and nodded. "Thank you, Bastian," he whispered, wondering just what his reward would be.

"This is for you," Bastian drawled, pointing to a black leather brief case that sat on a side table. He gestured for Gregory to open it.

"My god!" Gregory gasped when he saw the contents. Stack upon stack of hundred dollar bills. He was rich."

Bastian could feel Gregory's rush of greed and it pleased him. The man would remain loyal to him unto death. "Your work is done here, Gregory," Bastian announced. "Leave town...go far away. If I need you again...I'll find you."

Gregory closed the case and grabbed the handle, practically running for the door. "As you wish, Bastian!" he called out over his shoulder, then he was gone.

"As I wish," Bastian echoed, then he laughed out loud. Tonight was the beginning of forever.

Eric stirred on the bed, consciousness returning to him slowly. But he moaned as each breath sent agony stabbing through him. Tried to sit up but his muscles lacked the strength. When he opened his eyes it was to discover that he was in a bedroom, painted in white, and that his wrists were bound. Eric wanted to weep for he didn't even have the strength to attempt to free himself.

::::They fear you, my love:::: whispered a soft voice. ::::Let that fear...and my love for you be your strength::::

"Shelly....?" Eric breathed, eyes straining in the candle glow of the room to see his beloved. He could barely feel her and his body ached with the need to be touched by her.

::::I'm here...always with you, Eric:::: she whispered. ::::Never give up the fight, my love. I will be waiting:::: With that Shelly faded away, drawn back into the void where she now existed in limbo. That place between life and death.

Eric did weep now for he had never fell so alone in all his life. There was nothing for him now but pain and he wanted nothing more than dark oblivion. What he did not expect was another presence, this one dark and heavy, like a weight pressing down upon him. Fingers tangled in Eric's hair and he opened his eyes to see a pale face smiling down at him. "Who...are you?" Eric demanded, as a cold chill washed over him.

Bastian smiled at the young man, admiring his exotic beauty as well as Eric's courage. "I am the one who can lead you to where you want to go," Bastian breathed. His words were meant to be obtuse.

"To Shelly?" Eric challenged, feeling hope arise in him once more.

"If that is what you wish," Bastian allowed, even as he freed Eric from the bed. Then he lifted the young man into his arms as if he weighed no more than a child. "You must come with me now, Eric."

It wasn't as if he had a choice, Eric realized, for he was as weak as a babe. But he felt oddly safe with this...creature. And he knew should he remain here, Solange would take his soul. Then he would have no way back to Shelly. "Help me..." Eric pleaded, as more tears rolled down his face.

Bastian was pleased. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to Eric's forehead, watching the young man slip into a dark sleep. "I will help us both," Bastian whispered, as he glided out onto the balcony. Then he launched himself into the air and flew off into the night. Eric cradled to his chest like a precious gift.

Constance glared at the man with the cigarette. "You want Mulder dead, do it yourself!" she hissed at him. "He one of yours anyway."

Cancerman smiled obliquely. "You just don't get it, do you Constance," he drawled. "It was no accident that Mulder got the call meant for Scott Warren. Someone, within our ranks, wants to reveal us. To disband us. Is that what you want? To be revealed to the world and branded a freak?"

"What I want is some satisfaction," Constance countered, her eyes glittering. "I want some fun."

"Find Mulder and kill him," Cancerman replied. "That should be a challenge for you."

Constance rolled her eyes but headed for the door. "Sure thing," she drawled. "A woman's work is never done."

As they came up to the warehouse, Albrecht insisted that Sarah remain in the car, threatening to handcuff her to the steering wheel if she wouldn't obey, and she had grudgingly agreed. With guns drawn, the three of them had entered the warehouse to quickly sweep it, finding in one office what looked to be an altar and traces of blood... but no sign of Eric.

"Damn!" cursed Albrecht, hitting his thigh with his gun, and rubbed his chin as he regarded the altar, seeing where Sarah had been bound to it and the blood they had drawn from her. With an angry sweep of his arm, he set the bowl streaked still with blood flying to clatter across the floor.

"Gone," said Mulder unnecessarily, heaving a sigh. "What now?" He asked the question as much of himself as the others.

"I know a lab tech that I can get to come down here and take a look...but I'm guessing they wouldn't have left anything to incriminate themselves," said Albrecht with a sour twist to his mouth, holstering his gun. The condition Eric was in, he shouldn't have let him go--never mind that he couldn't have known what Eric was walking into. But all the same he was a damned stubborn young man...and seemingly even more so in death.

"So we try and track them down--whoever they are," said Scully dryly.

Albrecht shook his head, lifting a hand to stop Mulder when he started to move out of the room. "No--first we do question-and-answer period. My question is how two Feds managed to get mixed up in this...whatever is going on around here. Whatever you got... I expect you to share."

Mulder looked to Scully but she merely gave him a level look of her own and he turned back to Albrecht. "We're here on a case--"

"If you were here on a legit case, you'd be going through the channels. Try again."

Letting loose another sigh, Mulder ran a hand through his hair and ran through the whole story, from the message left on his machine to the attempts on his life and Eric's intervention. Going to into as much detail as he could without making the telling of it too long and involved.

When he was done, Albrecht gave a small laugh. "Man, when I step into it, I do not do it half-way. So you're why Eric had me running Constance Lowry's name."

"What'd you find out?" asked Mulder curiously.

"That's she as stone cold dead as Eric...and apparently just as mobile." At Scully's skeptical look, Albrecht lifted his shoulders. "Hey, I got the papers back at my place to prove it. Mug shots, death certificate, even the coroner's photos. Died in prison--tried to play tough with the wrong inmate. Before that...she liked to kill people. Didn't rack up a real high body count...but she was...inventive in what she did to them."

"Dead..." repeated Scully with a shake of her head, folding her arms over her breasts.

"Hey, before I met up with Eric, I wouldn't have believed it myself. But like they say... seeing is believing...and I've seen enough shit since then to be a real convert," said Albrecht levelly, turning back to Mulder. "We gotta find what the connection is to this voodoo priestess Solange--and who's behind this."

"Maybe she raises them somehow," mused Mulder. "And as to who--well, what other purpose is there for raising up dead killers? Think about what a government--or governments--could do with a group of assassins that are virtually immortal," he added grimly.

Scully shook her head, lifting a hand to silence him. "Let's focus on the facts here...and leave the supposition for later. We have two names to work with--we have what we can get of Constance Lowry, even a place where she has been known to frequent. The other one we need to check is this Solange."

Mulder nodded, rubbing his hands together. "I know someone who can give me info on the local pagan scene. If this Solange is operating around here, most likely she has a record of some kind, given what she's into."

"I can check that," said Albrecht agreeably. "But I don't think we should split up. I think you're still in danger, Agent Mulder. Right now they will be looking to silence you quick before you can learn anything more."

"Agreed," said Scully firmly, ignoring the glare that Mulder gave her. "Safety in numbers, Mulder."

"Fine--let's just get going, okay?" Though he wouldn't say so to Scully, this place gave him the chills. Didn't consider himself to be especially sensitive to magic...but a dark aura seemed to cling to this room...as if there had been here things far more cruel than a simple blood-letting.

And as he followed Albrecht and Scully out of the room, he felt relief...but a short-lived one. It was easy for him to accept Eric as someone come back from the grave...but the thought of a score or more of them out there in the world, dealing death...it made him shiver. Having them after him...was even more a sobering thought.

He lay on something silken and soft, his cheek turned into a smooth, hard surface, and Eric opened his eyes, blinking as he looked around him...only to feel his heart freeze at seeing he lay in a coffin. Used to have nightmares about this a long time ago, of waking up to find himself trapped in a coffin, buried alive beneath the earth, of clawing at the wooden surface of the coffin till his fingernails were torn and bloody--

Moaning in distress, he heaved himself out of the coffin to sprawl on a stone floor, dust wafting up to send the grit of dirt into his mouth. He spat to clear it, scrubbing at his mouth to rid it of that taste, the taste of his nightmares, and as movement was glimpsed from the corner of his eye he scrambled back till he came up against the coffin.

"Forgive me...but I had nowhere else to take you on such short notice," said a rich soothing voice from the darkness, moving slowly forward so that it was shrouded in the flickering golden light issuing from the candles spread around the room. Crypt, Eric realized with a shudder...

The figure came into view, that of the man that had taken him from Solange. But man he wasn't...or hadn't been in a long time. Darkness permeated him, hung around him like a dismal, sullen cloud, his eyes a throbbing red. Eric shivered, thinking he had only seen one other man that rivaled this one for the darkness in his soul--and that man had come very close to destroying him. If it weren't for India's intervention...Mace might have succeeded.

"Yes, I am of the dark," said the figure softly, a touch of sadness to his voice. "Born of the dark and to the dark...through no choice of my own. I can see the light--touch it, taste it--but I have never known it..." A sigh sent his shoulders to slumping and the man moved to kneel before Eric, a smile curving his lips. "I am Bastian. And you...are my savior. The one that will lead me from the darkness I have dwelt in all my life...and to the light."

For answer, Eric could only stare at the creature before him in disbelief. Knowing that as impossible as it sounded, this was a vampire...

Mulder's connection into the local pagan scene led them to a woman named Patrice. She looked to be ancient, if her white hair and wrinkles were to be believed, and the shimmer in her pale amber eyes. Her skin had faded to a tawny-gold yet she was somehow beautiful and young in her actions. Fluid grace that seemed to flow about the livingroom of her small house as she talked to her uninvited guests and played with her cats.

His patience was wearing thin, yet Mulder felt a strange connection to the old woman, still...his main concern was Eric. "What will you tell us about Solange?" he prompted, knowing that it was the proper way to word the question.

Patrice laughed, a soft musical sound, then she picked up a black cat and settled herself in a rocking chair. The cat on her lap and her gnarled hands stroking it's glossy fur. "She be darkness that one..." Patrice drawled. "Solange be the daughter of darkness."

"She's powerful?" Albrecht guessed, getting a sinking feeling in his stomach. He was beginning to wish he had made Sarah wait in the car but the kid had threatened to go play in the streets if she couldn't come in. And the neighborhood they were in was no playground.

"Solange is de child of Papalaja," Patrice continued. "He be Voodoo man. Black magic. No one can touch him...but he can reach out and touch you. Wrap his fingers around your soul. Taught his daughter how. She can slip her way inside you and rape you."

Albrecht remembered the two episodes Eric had suffered and how he had likened them to rape. A cold chill rippled down his spine. "The father is more powerful than the daughter, I take it?" he commented.

Patrice sighed, then locked eyes with Albrecht. She would tell him the truth because he was of her people. The others she would help because the one believed, as did the child. And it amused Patrice to make the unbeliever squirm. Pretty redhead was the other half of the believer's soul. "Papalaja is de most powerful, mon. No o'ter like him. 'Ceptin...maybe...de soul of darkness himself." Patrice let her native accent hang heavy in the air. Bringing home to the others who she really was.

"And who would that be?" It was Sarah who ventured to ask the question. She was on the edge of her seat, face shining with excitement. Being here was better than watching a horror movie.

"Dat be de one most would call...Vampire," Patrice drawled.

Scully let a sigh escape her. She wasn't buying any of this. Rising to her feet she declared, "We're wasting our time here."

Patrice pinned her with a glance. "Who you to be saying dat when a dead man saved your life, missy?" she challenged. "De Crow done saved your soul. You no be returnin' the favor?"

"You know about Eric?" Albrecht countered, feeling stunned.

"I know what I know," Patrice replied, a smug smile curving her lips as she rocked in her chair. "Dat boy...he got the power in him. De light dat all of us be searching fo. He da one the darkness want. He de one dat can cross over to de o'ter side and reach paradise. But not his time. Not yet. He got tings to do heah. But de darkness don' wanna let him." Patrice locked eyes with Mulder now. "You understand what I say?" she queried. "You save him or de darkness win."

Mulder nodded. He was confused about many things, but somehow he did understand what Patrice was telling them. And he believed. He had seen it in Eric. Had felt it even. The young man had to be rescued from whatever forces wanted to claim him, or they would all be lost. "Where can we find Papalaja and his daughter?" Mulder beseeched.

Patrice sighed. "De find you, mon. It be de only way."

"Thank you," Mulder said, rising to his feet to bend over Patrice's chair and press a kiss to her parched cheek. He then looked over at the others and gestured towards the door. "Time to go."

"Yeah," Albrecht conceded, even though he felt they had wasted their time. They knew more about the danger that Eric was in, but were no closer to finding him. Still, he dragged Sarah out the door leaving Mulder and Scully to follow.

Back in the car it was Sarah who broke the silence. "Hey, Albrecht...you got a computer at home?" she asked him.

He turned his head to look at her. "Why?" Albrecht countered, suspicion coloring his tone. He knew better than to trust Sarah, no matter how innocent she appeared.

"We can do some research," Sarah stated, a bit smugly, exchanging glances with Mulder whom she realized understood what she was thinking. It was cool to have an adult who believed in the unbelievable. Eric was like that, but out of neccessity. Because he was part of the unbelievable. Mulder, on the other hand, simply believed.

"Research?" Albrecht echoed.

Sarah nodded. "Yeah. We can check into Vampires and stuff. You know...research. It might give us a clue as to where to look for Eric."

Scully heaved another sigh, this one of resignation. "We should look up Voodoo culture as well. See if Papalaja has a webpage or something." Her words were facetious, but the idea was sound.

"I have two computers," Albrecht conceded. "One's a laptop." As he spoke he started the car and headed back for home. It wasn't much of a lead, but it was the only chance they had to save Eric. What they didn't know was that they were being watched.

From out of the shadows stepped Constance, a smile on her face as she watched the car fade into the night.

Eric stared down at the powerful being who knelt at his feet. He was feeling stunned, as if his world had been tipped upside down. "What are you?" he asked, needing to hear the truth in words.

Bastian smiled and rose to his feet, one hand reaching out to touch Eric's face. He could feel the hum of power in this one. So young yet so strong. "I am what you believe me to be," Bastian whispered.

"Vampire?" Eric breathed, taking an involuntary step back from the cold flesh that touched him, but the long fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him close.

"I am not to be feared by you," Bastian purred. "I don't want to hurt you, Eric. How can I? You are immortal....just as I am."

Eric caught his breath then hissed, "Not like you!"

Bastian sighed, releasing his grip on Eric's hair, allowing him his space. "No...not like you," he allowed. "But that is what I want. To be like you. To know the light...to feel it warm my blood and my soul. I don't want to be the darkness anymore, Eric. To feed on humanity. I want...to be free."

"Free?" Eric echoed, shaking his head. "Meaning what? Dead? To cross over to oblivion?"

"No...free to live in the light," Bastian replied. "As you do. You will never die, Eric," the vampire explained. "You've done that already and come back."

Eric felt panic wash over him. "I have to die!" he shouted, his dark eyes blazing. "I have to be with Shelly!"

Bastian took a step forward, one hand reaching out to touch Eric's face again, to soothe him. "I can lead you back to her, Eric," Bastian whispered. "But you must lead me into the light. You must save my soul in order to be free. Do you understand?"

"I..." Eric wanted to shout yes, but he was so confused. His head ached and he wanted only to sleep. Yet he was no longer human. He should not be feeling any of this. "What has happened to me?" he countered, stepping back once again only to discover himself pinned againt the coffin he had risen from.

"It's hard to explain," Bastian replied. "But I can teach you, Eric. If you want to learn."

Eric wanted to weep, but he nodded. "Teach me," he beseeched.

Bastian smiled, not revealing his teeth. "Close your eyes," he whispered as he moved to stand behind Eric. One hand tangled in the dark hair, pulling it away from the strong throat. He could feel Eric obey and was pleased. "Believe in me," Bastian continued, as his lips curled back and his fangs were revealed. He lowered his head.

"Believe..." Eric whispered, then he cried out as pain rocked through him. He felt Bastian bite into his flesh, felt the warm flow of his blood. Felt himself fall into darkness....

"NO!" The cry was ripped from Papalaja's soul. He could feel the darkness suckling at the light. It could not be allowed. "He does not belong to YOU!" Papalaja roared as he waved his hands in the air then began to chant.

Bastian drank of Eric as a man dying of thirst would. But suddenly he felt the presence and knew that the other had come. Felt Eric's body jerk then heard the young man's cry of pain. Bastian let Eric fall to the ground and he backed away, knowing that the other now possessed him. But it was too late, for the first kiss was his. The first taste of sweet blood stained his lips. "He will be mine," Bastian whispered, watching as Eric rose to his feet. But it was the eyes of Papalaja that stared back at him.

"We shall see," whispered Papalaja. Then he left the body and misted back home. The war had just begun.

With Papalaja's departure, Eric's body collapsed once more and Bastian waited a moment--to be certain that the voodoo priest had indeed left the young man's body--before kneeling to take the limp form in his arms. Gently he stroked hair as black as a crow's wing from the young man's throat, his eyes drawn irresistably to the thin stream of blood that threaded its way down the curve of his throat. Though he wanted to set his mouth to it, to clean it away with his tongue, he resisted the impulse, using his fingers to wipe away the sweet blood.

Eric stirred at the touch, eyelids fluttering open, and lifted a trembling hand as if he woud push Bastian away...but it fell limply to his side. He swallowed hard, struggling to draw himself up to a sitting position but lacking the strength. "What...happened?" he whispered.

"The evil one tried to claim you," said Bastian, tenderly tucking dark hair behind Eric's ear, gazing down into confused dark eyes. Oh, this was too easy, he thought with an inner chuckle but did not allow that amusement to show. "I prevented him."

"Evil...one?" repeated Eric dazedly. Remembered being held by Bastian, the other man's mouth on his throat and then...pain. More than he should have felt. And then a darkness stealing over him, swallowing him, smothering his will...

"The father of the priestess that tried to bind you. His name is Papalaja...and he is the true power behind Solange. He would bind you to himself, use you and twist you, till no light exists yet in you." He brushed his knuckles against Eric's cheek, drawing the young man's eyes to him. "If he should take you...then Shelly will be barred to you...for all eternity."

Shelly--the thought of their reunion was all that gave him the strength to continue. Without her love and guidance, he would never survive... "How...how can I fight him?" he asked, struggling to control the trembling that went through him. Remembered the power that had seized him before...and how little his resistance had mattered to it.

"Let me help you," said Bastian persuasively, stroking the young man's hair. "As you help me regain my soul, so will I help you regain your own heart's desire. To be reunited with your beloved Shelly."

"Shelly..." He reached inside himself, seeking that small inner part of his heart and soul where a whisper of her dwelt...but there was nothing. He shuddered with the chill it sent through him, the lack of her presence, and said aloud, "Show me how to fight him. I don't want to be his slave...anyone's slave."

"Later. For now...rest," said Bastian, pressing a gentle kiss to Eric's forehead, his long fingers stroking the young man's cheek. "Sleep." And watched with satisfaction as Eric's eyes drifted closed, the young man's form relaxing in his arms. With Eric's capitulation it would make it all that much easier...

On the way back to his place, Albrecht took the time to call Sarah's mother Darla and let her know that Sarah was with him, that he was bringing her home right away. Overriding Sarah's protests and chiding her that her mother was worried about her, Albrecht left Sarah off at home and took the two Federal agents with him to his house.

As they settled in, Scully called in to the local bureau office to assure them that she and Mulder were well. From her end of the conversation, whoever she was talking to was quite adamant about knowing where they were but given the events of the last few days, she had agreed with Mulder's suggestion that they keep their exact location unknown.

While Scully was occupied with her cell phone, Mulder was already at work on Albrecht's computer, doing a search for web pages that might be linked to the local voodoo movement. Albrecht stood behind him, watching the computer screen over his shoulder, and shook his head as he saw the number of local pages devoted to it.

"Would expect to see this in maybe Florida and New Orleans...but not here," said Albrecht with a sigh. "So...you gonna really be able to find this Papalaja on the net?" he asked Mulder skeptically.

"If he's as powerful as Patrice says, then he's going to have a big following," said Mulder reasonably. "I don't expect to find a map that leads us to his place...but we should be able to find someone that might be able to give us a way to him."

"Patrice said that they'd find us," Albrecht reminded Mulder.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Mulder turned his head to give Albrecht a look. "Do you really want to wait for them to find us first?"

"No," said Albrecht fervently.

"My sentiments exactly. So...we try for the local voodoo element...and then the vampire wannabees."

Albrecht made a sour face. "Yeah...and I can check the morgue for any bodies drained of blood...or have a tendency to get up and walk out on their own. The department already thinks I'm whacked...no problem with image there," he added dryly. Placing hands on his hips, he turned to regard Scully as she ended her phone call and rubbed his chin. "Okay...so how does pizza sound? Should still be a place that delivers open--"

A knock on the door drew his head around and he walked slowly to the door, hand automatically drawing his gun from his shoulder holster. Glancing back over his shoulder, he watched Mulder and Scully move to flank him, both with guns drawn, and he moved slowly to the door. "Yeah?" he said, starting to move to look through the peep- hole.

And a hole was blown through the door, right where the peephole was, sending splinters of wood flying, one grazing Albrecht on the cheek. He staggered back as the door was kicked open, getting one quick glimpse of a dark clad figure before he threw himself to the floor, just as another shotgun blast cut through the air. Rolling, Albrecht brought his gun up and put a bullet through the intruder's leg, scrambling to his feet as the figure struggled to regain its balance...only to go down under two bullets to the chest from Mulder, sprawling on its back.

Carefully Albrecht approached the figure, extending an arm to grasp the ski mask that concealed its features and dragging it off to find himself staring down at Constance Lowry. He cast a quick look back at Scully and Mulder, asking, "Are you okay--"

His legs were swept out from under and he landed hard on his back, the air leaving him in an explosive grunt, the "dead" young woman straddling him to stare down at him with a manic light in her eyes. "Time to die..." she crooned.

"NO!" Mulder shouted, moving forward to confront the Constance. "I'm the one you want. Kill me and get it over with. But leave Scully and Albrecht out of it."

Constance laughed, a sound of pure evil. "Gee, Mulder," she drawled. "That kinda takes all the fun out of it...dontcha think?"

Scully moved to Mulder's side, where she belonged. Her eyes were glacial as she locked glares with the other woman. Scientist or no, Scully could feel that Constance was not quiet human. She was something else. Something Scully didn't want to consider. "If you kill Mulder and the rest of us...then what?" Scully demanded. "You still don't get what you want...do you?"

"And what would that be?" Constance countered, still straddling Albrecht, whom was smart enough not to move. "What do you think I want, red?" she challenged.

"Eric Draven," Scully replied, without blinking an eye. She could feel Mulder's start of surprise and the heat of his gaze as he turned to look at her. "You want him as part of your team. Right?"

Constance narrowed her gaze and felt a shred of admiration for the petite agent. She was shrewd and knew how to play the game. "You don't have Eric to offer," Constance stated, glancing around. Not that she needed to do so, for she would have felt him had he been there. It wasn't a gift that they all shared, but something special of her own. Her kind were unique, but that didn't mean they were friendly towards each other. "So why should I waste my time, Red?" Constance prompted. "What do you have to give me?"

Scully shrugged. "Our help," she replied, her look implying that the answer was obvious. "There are forces at work here that none of us understand. But I can guess that your group wants Eric to join the ranks. Together, pooling our knowledge, we just might find him."

"And you'd simply hand him over to me...right?" Constance drawled, amusement flashing like cold-fire in her eyes. "Nice try, sweetie."

"The deal would be finders keepers," Scully countered.

Mulder felt the need to interject here, for by the look on Scully's face, she was serious. That did not bode well for Eric. "We don't have the right to bargain with his life!" Mulder hissed.

Scully turned on him. "Shut up, Mulder. I'm bargaining for our lives right now. Eric is already dead...or so you tell me. I don't care to join him. So I'm willing to deal and you'd better be too."

"I'm with Scully," Albrecht announced from his position on the floor. He could see that Mulder was surprised by what would seem like a betrayal of Eric, but Albrecht knew that Scully was right. This was the only chance they had to survive long enough to find Draven. So Albrecht was willing to play along. If Mulder was too dense to catch on, so be it.

"Sounds like fun," Constance replied, moving away from Albrecht and pocketing her gun. "Just remember something. You can't kill me, but I sure as hell can kill you."

Rising to his feet, Albrecht offered a sickly smile. "Believe me...I remember," he drawled. "So...tell us what you know about a voodoo priest named Papalaja and the local vampire scene."

Constance noticed the computer in the corner and sat down. Her fingers flew over the keyboard and she grinned as she stated, "Let me connect you to my world."

"Can't wait," Mulder muttered beneath his breath, as a cold chill swept over him. A part of him was beginning to wonder if death might not be such a bad thing.

Eric dreamed. It had been so long since he had dreamed of Shelly. She was beautiful, dressed in white, her hair flowing down her back in soft waves. She was standing on the bridge where they had first been reunited after death, smiling at him. One hand reaching out to him. And Eric reached out for her, whispering her name. "Shelly..."

But in that moment she began to fade away. "Goodbye, Eric..." Shelly whispered. "Goodbye...."

"NO!" Eric screamed and came flying off the bed, only to collapse when his knees gave out. He fell to the floor in a heap and bowed his head, weeping. He was so tired of feeling weak. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Something was wrong with him.

"I can help you," Bastian whispered in Eric's mind. He was close by and his vampire powers allowed him to see the young man's dream. To hear his thoughts. "Trust me, Eric. Believe in me...and I can lead you back to Shelly."

Eric swiped at his eyes with his shirt-sleeve, only then realizing that he was no longer dressed in his own clothes. The black shirt he was wearing was made of silk, the pants were of soft leather, the black boots supple suede. He tried to rise and managed to stand, but swayed on legs that trembled. "What's wrong with me?" Eric called out, hoping that the question would draw Bastian to him.

The dark Prince appeared like a shadow stepping out into the light. "Papalaja is draining you," Bastian replied. "Can you feel the tingle in your blood, Eric?"

"Yes," Eric whispered. for he could indeed. It wasn't painful, but was irritating, like and itch he couldn't scratch. "How do I stop him?" Eric pleaded, for he now believed that if the Voodoo Priest claimed his soul, he would be lost to Shelly forever.

"Another kiss..." Bastian breathed. "Another taste of your blood and I will give you the strength, Eric. My darkness will be absorbed into your light and you will be able to push Papalaja away. To shield yourself from his attacks." What Bastian didn't add was that after the second kiss, the ritual would nearly be complete. Eric's soul would begin to merge with his. A third kiss and they would be one. And in the moment after, once Eric drank of Bastian's blood, the vampire would then be able to walk in the light. To leave behind the darkness and brave a whole new world.

Eric swayed and would have fallen had Bastian not caught him. "Will I die?" he asked, wishing for it to be so. He was tired of living in limbo. Of not understanding who and what he was. Of being without Shelly.

Bastian lifted Eric in his arms and carried the young man back to the bed. He stroked the dark hair from the pale throat and smiled, revealing his fangs. "You are dead," Bastian whispered. "What you will become is alive again. But stronger than you ever imagined. Once we join, Eric, you will have the power you need to go to Shelly. To bring her back if you wish."

"Back?" Eric echoed, closing his eyes against the sudden trickle of hot tears. "I can bring her back to life?" It was more than he ever thought to hope for. To be alive with Shelly once more. It was his fault she had died too soon. And it was unfair, for Shelly had loved life. Had believed it to be something as precious as the love they had shared.

"You can bring her back," Bastian promised, not feeling a whit of remorse at the fact that he was telling only part of the truth. "Tell me what you want, Eric?" the vampire beseeched him.

Eric turned his head, offering his throat to Bastian. Unaware of what he was giving of himself, and of what he would become. "I want Shelly," he breathed, and a smile of hope lit up his face.

Bastian pressed his lips to Eric's skin and pierced the smooth flesh. As he drank he let his voice dance in the young man's head. "See her in your heart and soul, Eric. Reach for Shelly and she will be there."

"Shelly..." Eric whispered, one hand reaching out into the empty air. He felt the pain of penetration, and a trickle of warm blood on his neck as Bastian suckled at him. There was no fear in Eric, though. He was not human. He could not die. But he could now live again. With Shelly. And that was all that mattered. Or so he believed.

"Here."

Constance gestured to Mulder, making a second, more impatient gesture when the agent failed to come closer and offering him a grin that bared white teeth. "Don't worry--I won't bite...not hard, at least." She laughed at the cold look Mulder gave her and tossed back to the others. "Gather round, kiddies. This is important info."

Albrecht and Scully drew closer, Scully with a wary eye to the young woman, and Constance faced the screen again. "This is an IRC chat room--kinda place where all the freaks hang out. You can find someone here that will tune you into Papalaja--I'm sure Mulder knows all the right things to say that'll make him fit into that crowd..." she added with a smirk.

"And you're just giving us this information?" asked Scully skeptically, an eyebrow raised.

Constance shrugged. "Not exactly giving it to you. This Papalaja isn't going to be easily found--you'd have a better chance of finding Solange. And she's not easy to find either." She turned in the chair to give them a sharp look. "You think she has Draven."

"We think she's someone else that has an interest in him," said Mulder evasively, drawing him her narrow-eyed gaze. "Why...we don't know."

"Because he's...different than the rest of us. Special." Constance spat the word as if it left a foul taste in her mouth, lips twisting in a sneer. "You know where special gets you in this world? Nowhere. You don't get anything that you don't take." Anger and bitterness shone in her eyes, distorted beautiful features into an ugly mask of hate, a perfect reflection of the dark rotted soul that dwelt inside her. Mulder felt a brief flash of pity for her...but only brief. Maybe she'd had a hard life...but somewhere along the line a choice had been made and she'd followed this path that brought her to where and who she was...

"But if Solange's daddy has him...then Mr. Goody Two Shoes isn't gonna be so pure anymore," said Constance with malicious pleasure, rising from the chair. "So we'll see who gets to him first...ta ta!" She wiggled her fingers at them and departed from the house, leaving the door open behind her.

After a moment of silence, Albrecht went to grab a chair and shove it underneath the door, forcing it closed. "So, Mulder...do your stuff," he said sardonically as he went to take a seat.

Giving him a sour look, Mulder sat down before the computer and drew in a deep breath before setting his attention to the keyboard.

For the most part, Sarah's dreams were the simple ones of the child she still was at heart. She dreamed of better times when she was young, of happier times. As children do, she dreamed of all the wonderful things she always wanted to possess but could never have. After Eric and Shelly had died, she had dreamed of them sometimes...and would wake up with her pillow wet with tears, crying for the friendship that had been too brief.

This...wasn't one of her usual dreams.

She was in a large house, like something out of an old movie, maybe Gone with the Wind or one of those kind of hokey movies her mom liked to watch. Huge, with a ceiling that seemed to stretch up to touch the sky, and a long winding staircase, the furniture covered in white sheets threaded with the gossamer strands of spiderwebs. She stood at the base of the staircase, arms wrapped around herself, shivering in the thin T-shirt and faded jeans torn at the knees which she had worn to bed, gazing up the staircase. There was something--someone--up there...but she was afraid to go there. It was...not completely dark...but it was scary...

Fingers folded around hers and she turned her head to the glowing figure that stood beside her, feeling not the icy stab of fear...but the warm sweeping relief at the familiar presence. Shelly smiled down at her, a hand reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind Sarah's ear, and with Sarah's hand in hers, she led her up the staircase. With Shelly beside her the house was no longer creepy...

They went up to the top of the stairs, down a hallway to come to the last door on the right. Looking up at Shelly, Sarah received a nod and took a deep breath before she opened the door, wincing as it squealed on its hinges, pushing it in as she tenatively stuck her head around the corner. No one in the room...except for a figure that lay on the bed...

Shelly's hand pressed against the small of Sarah's back, urging her forward, and Sarah went, walking slowly up to the bed, till she could see who lay there. "Eric..." she whispered, throat tight, reaching out to touch his hand. He lay on the bed, dark hair obscuring his features, a trickle of something red and dark going down the too pale column of his throat, looking...dead.

"This is where he is. Not with Papalaja," said Shelly, squeezing Sarah's hand and sinking down to her knees before the young girl, so that she could meet Sarah's eyes, taking Sarah's other hand in hers. "This is where you must bring them, Sarah. They're Eric's only hope now--he's been shut off from me." She released Sarah's hands, rising to walk to the bed, one pale arm extending to brush fingers along Eric's cheek. "I can't reach him anymore..." A single tear escaped her eye to spill down her cheek as she gazed down at the man she loved...in life and in death and then turned her head to look to Sarah. "Help him, Sarah. Help us..." And with that she began to fade, the light she carried with her fading in the darkness...

Sarah awoke with a muffled cry, tears staining her cheeks, and lay still under her covers, heart pounding from her dream. Or was it just a dream?

Shoving the blankets aside, she sprang up out of bed and grabbed the tennis shoes she'd tossed haphazardly on the floor the night before to hurriedly drag them on.

The pounding on what was left of his door brought Albrecht up out of an uneasy sleep, jerking upright in the chair he hadn't left all night, to see the wooden chair he'd used as an impromptu barricade slide back a few inches. Fumbling in his lap, sure he'd left the gun there, he blinked rapidly as a face pressed to the hole in the door...and felt relief mixed with exasperation at seeing it was Sarah.

"Lemme in! It's important!" she called.

Groaning, Albrecht removed the chair from the door and Sarah tumbled inside, hair tangled and clothes looking like they'd been slept in. "Whoa! What's up?" Albrecht caught her shoulders to hold her still, kneeling before her.

"I know where Eric is!" she blurted out.

From the bedroom Scully emerged, looking a little rumpled herself with gun in hand, and Mulder rose from the couch, knuckling sleep from his eyes. "How?" asked Scully, ever the practical one.

"Shelly told me--in a dream--" As Scully heaved a sigh, Sarah glared at her. "It's true! She said that she can't reach him...so she came to me..."

Releasing her, Albrecht ran a big hand over his face and let loose a sigh of his own. "Okay, Sarah--where?" Once he'd been as skeptical as Scully...but he'd seen too much lately to keep his eyes shut anymore.

"I'll show you--c'mon!" And she tugged at his hand as she went to the door, glaring at him when he dragged his feet.

"You heard her..." said Albrecht wearily to the other two as he let Sarah led him out of the house, the agents following on his trail.

"There!"

At Sarah's cry, Albrecht slammed on the brakes, coming to a halt in the middle of the road. They were outside the city limits, driving on one of the picturesque routes, when Sarah had called out and the young girl leaned over Albrecht to point at a dirt road leading off to the left. Through the shrouding green leaves, a house could just barely be glimpsed...

"You sure?" asked Albrecht.

"Yes! Go!"

Sighing, Albrecht exchanged glances with Scully through the rearview mirror but turned all the same, heading down the road at a slow pace. Eventually it opened up onto a driveway, to show a crumbling old house done in plantation style, ivy twining along the marble pillars framing the doorway and the shutters along the windows. Stopping the car, Albrecht got out and grabbed Sarah's arm when she would have wriggled past him to dash into the house.

"You stay close. Got it?" He gave a little shake of her arm to punctuate his order, letting her know he was very serious, and to his surprise she nodded, holding onto his hand as they headed for the house.

It was like Dracula visiting Scarlett's old homestead Tara, reflected Mulder as he entered the house behind Albrech and Sarah, Scully beside him. And making poor Scarlett forget all about that wicked Rhett Butler...

Up the staircase they went, Sarah leading the way to the end of the hallway and a room. "In here--" she said, tugging free of Albrecht's hand to dash inside, ignoring Albrecht's curse and belated grab for her arm. She ran to the huge four poster bed that dominated the room and said, "See...he's here!"

Scully was the first to go to her, seeing that she stood beside a limp figure sprawled on the bed, the gloomy light of the room making it difficult to see at first who it was. As her eyes adjusted, she recognized Eric lying there, unnaturally pale in the somber black leather and silk he wore, a thin slick ribbon of blood trailing down his throat. Automatically she pressed fingers to the side of his throat and to her suprise she felt a pulse there, his skin clammy under her fingers. Pale, clammy skin, fluttering pulse--all normal signs of shock...but this young man was far from normal.

Brushing dark hair back, she turned his chin to see a set of neat puncture holes in his throat, looking to have been caused by teeth, and bruising around the wound. Whatever had...happened to him, he'd lost a great deal of blood...and that she could deal with. "He's been...hurt. I think he's in shock." He's been bitten, said a mocking voice in her head. Go on and say it--bitten by a vampire...

Resolutely Scully told that little voice to be quiet and turned to the two men. "We need to get him out of here."

"I'm all for that," said Mulder fervently.

Moving forward, Albrecht slipped an arm under Eric's knees and another under his back, lifting him into his arms with a grunt. Once he got his balance, he was disconcerted to feel how light Eric was...and how his head lolled limply against Albrecht's chest. "Gonna get you out of here, buddy," he said softly, not caring that the unconscious Eric couldn't hear him. The words were more for himself than Eric...

And with Albrecht carrying Eric, they left the house as quickly as possible, unaware all the time that a dark presence lurked somewhere below...

"Is he going to be all right?"

Sarah asked the question that was on Albrecht's mind and he was grateful. He was trying not to hover over Scully as she did her doctor thing with Eric, but he was concerned. How did one treat a man who was dead, yet not dead? It was becoming too confusing for his exhausted mind and body to comprehend.

Scully turned to smile at Sarah, catching the concern on Albrecht's face as she did so. "Eric is strong, I think he'll be fine. But I'm a little bit out of my league here," Scully was quick to confess.

"He looks different," Albrecht commented, stepping over to the other side of the bed now to glance down at his friend. Eric was too pale now, and his breathing was shallow yet panting, as if he were trying to suck in breath, like someone not quite used to oxygen. A dead man come back to life?"

"Different how?" Mulder queried, as he joined them. He knew that the question was on the tip of Scully's tongue but that she would be reluctant to ask it for it would be like acknowledging the fact that she was beginning to accept what was happening here. And Mulder knew that Scully would, stubbornly, stick to her scientific reasoning. No matter what. He rather admired that about her, and that attitude did wonders for keeping him grounded.

Albrecht continued to study Eric, then he shrugged. "I'm not sure how," he admitted. "Before he was...immortal. He looked human, but he wasn't. After I saw him take a body full of bullets and live, I could see the subtle differences. But now it's like...ever since that Solange woman tried to possess him...it's like Eric is becoming...human again. Like he's no longer immortal. Invincible."

Sarah was the first to agree with Albrecht. She knew Eric best of all and she was afraid for him. He was a good man with a heart and soul filled with rage for what had happened to Shelly. For the fact that he was responsible for her death. Sarah knew that Eric wanted revenge, but that he had accepted the fact that Shelly would not want blood on his hands. So he worked hard at trying to do the right thing. To walk in the light even though his life was filled with shadows. But now the darkness was calling to him, violating him, drawing the light from Eric's soul. Sarah was afraid for him. She looked at Scully. "Can he die...for real?"

"I don't know," Scully replied. She smiled at Sarah and reached out to touch the young girl's arm. "Whatever Eric is...he's living and breathing and his heart is beating right now. He's lost a lot of blood and anyone else would have died by now. So I guess he's still what he was, even if he is changing." It was an obtuse answer but the best that Scully could give under the circumstances.

"We have to find Papalaja and the vampire who's draining Eric," Mulder declared. He turned and headed out the bedroom door with Albrecht on his heels. The computer was still as they had left it, logged into the IRC. Mulder hadn't had any luck earlier, finding someone who would talk about Papalaja, so he decided to take another root. He would find a Vampire chat room instead.

Albrecht grabbed an extra chair and sat down to watch. There was nothing else they could do. Dawn was breaking, Eric was still unconscious, might as well give the chatroom another try. But he was a realist at heart so he commented, "This is a longshot, Mulder."

The FBI agent nodded. "I know, but the odds gotta turn in our favor sometime." With that in mind, Mulder applied himself to his task with single-minded determination.

::::Eric::::

The whisper invaded the darkness that surrounded Eric, pulling him out towards the shadows. No real light to be found, just the dancing gray ghosts and the voice.

::::Come to me::::

Eric opened his eyes and blinked in the soft golden glow of day light. He felt a flutter of panic until he sat up and saw the woman in the chair by the bed. Scully. Gazing about, Eric realized where he must be. Albrecht's house. But that was impossible. He had been with Bastian.

::::Come home, Eric::::

It was Bastian's voice that echoed in his head. Eric listened to it, letting it draw him to his feet. His knees buckled but he didn't fall. A part of him felt stronger now. Felt the tingle in his blood...like liquid fire. He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled the scent of the morning. The windows were closed but Eric was able to smell the air. In fact, he could almost feel it and he realized that his senses, all of them, were sharper now. It was a strange but exhilerating sensation.

::::Yes, Eric. I have given you this gift. Use it well::::

Eric sighed and headed for the door. Bastian was calling to him and he owed the vampire his loyalty. For the dark Prince would guide him back to his beloved Shelly. Gliding out into the livingroom, Eric noticed that Mulder was sprawled on the couch, asleep, and of Albrecht there was no sign. That suited him just fine. He headed for the front door but was suddenly blocked by a presence.

Albrecht barred Eric's way and his eyes were wide with surprise as he stared at the younger man. Eric no longer looked like death warmed over, although he was still pale. "Where do you think you're going?" Albrecht declared, loudly enough to wake up Mulder.

"I have to leave," Eric whispered, his eyes burning with cold fire. "I have to go to him."

"To who?" Mulder prompted, as he joined Albrecht in blocking Eric's way. He hoped the young man would see reason for Mulder did not want to force a psychical confrontation in an attempt to make Eric stay put. He had seen him in action and Mulder knew that he and Albrecht didn't stand a chance against Eric's far greater skill and superior strength. "Who do you have to go to?" Mulder beseeched, when Eric simply looked at him.

Shaking his head, Eric made an attempt to glide past Mulder and Albrecht, but the stopped him. Albrecht's hand on the bare skin of Eric's forearm made him jump. It felt as if he were burned by intense heat. "You must let me go," Eric whispered, the fire in his eyes burning brighter now. Fever bright. He took a step back and fell into a fighting stance. He would leave one way or another.

Albrecht winced, but prepared himself for battle. "You're not going anywhere, Eric," he stated firmly.

"I'm sorry," Eric breathed, and in that moment he attacked. Two well placed kicks dropped both Mulder and Albrecht to the floor. But even as Eric made to step over them he was suddenly driven to his knees, moaning in agony.

"SCULLY!" Mulder shouted, as he sat up and wrapped his arms around Eric. The young man was shaking convulsively and Mulder was afraid he would seizure and die any minute.

Scully came on the run but skidded to a halt when Eric suddenly lifted his head and his eyes locked on her face. His eyes made Scully shiver, for they glowed like a luminescent silver-blue flame.

Papalaja held out one hand and was relieved when Solange wrapped her fingers around it. He needed her strength to sustain him as he fought against the dark one. Bastian had sipped of Eric's light, and their souls were beginning to merge. So it took great magic to pull Eric from him. But Papalaja was determined to do just that. To gain Eric Draven as his own.

Cautiously Scully knelt before Eric, hesitant to actually touch him, unnerved by the change in his eyes. Silver-blue where before they had been dark and looking out from those changed orbs seemed to be another mind--another will--entirely. A cold smile curved Eric's lips, one of triumph, and he started to push off Mulder's supporting arms... only to have a shudder go through the slim frame as his eyes fluttered closed, opening again to show dark dazed eyes.

"Bastian..." Eric shook as if with cold, whispering the name of the vampire, and his eyes closed again as he slumped in Mulder's hold. He could feel them both--the cool darkness and the flaming light, both eager to consume, both warring for supremacy in him. And in their battle, neither caring what damage they left in their wake...

Eric's head lifted, eyes fluttering open to meet Scully's, and she was transfixed by the plea she said in his eyes, eyes dark with a pain and exhaustion that went soul deep. "Help...me..." he whispered.

Not knowing why she did it, Scully took his hand in hers, wrapping her fingers tightly around his, and turned her head to look for Sarah. "Sarah--"

Sarah sprang down from her chair to dash over to them, wrapping her arms around Eric's waist and burying her face against his shoulder, holding him tightly. "Not going to let you go..." she said defiantly.

Staring at the three of them holding Eric in their collective embrace, Albrecht came forward to lay a hand on top of Eric's head. "Hang in there, buddy," he said through a suddenly thick throat.

Eric's head fell back, his body going taut with the effort of his resistance. Trying to eject those two that sought to do him harm in their battle for supremacy over his soul but he was so tired...tired of fighting. Tired of being weak, of being alone, barred from the one that held the keys to his soul, the one he had been destined to remain beside throughout eternity.

:::Let your friends be your strength, Eric.:::: whispered Shelly's voice in his mind and he felt the warmth of her hand on his cheek, the soft caress of her lips against his skin. Through her he could feel the fear and concern of those gathered here, those that cared for him as Shelly did. Friends--he clutched at them as a drowning man would his rescuer, drawing into him the love and concern they offered.

Bastian snarled in anger as he felt Papalaja's presence, the dark priest's power sending him back, but he had a hold on Eric's soul and would not allow the young man to escape him so easily. Eric had surrendered to him, consented to the kiss, and Bastian would use that capitulation against him. And so he tried, managing to drive back the silvery flame that was the voodoo priest.

Papalaja tightened his grip on his daughter's hand, till he felt the bones bend under his grip, and drew ruthlessly on her power, to throw it in the face of the vampire. Eric Draven was his, his alone--he would allow no other to take his prize. He bared his teeth in a grimace of effort as he strove to regain his lost footing...

Only to reel under a new assault...as did the vampire. Resistance from the young man who should have been too weak to resist, who should not be able to break the influence either of them had on him...but was. And then he found himself abruptly cast out, to sprawl on the floor of his temple, gasping for air.

Bastian roared in fury as he too was cast out...

Under the grip of her hand, Scully felt the tightness of Eric's muscles, could feel as well the rapidness of his pulse, and watched as his head fell back, eyes rolling up in his head as his body went rigid, trembling spasmodically. His lips parted to emit a soft sound of anguish...and then he went abruptly limp in their embrace.

Scully sagged as well, feeling oddly drained, and released Eric's hand as he slumped back against Mulder. Sarah raised her head from Eric's shoulder, her concern showing plainly in her features as she touched him on the cheek, whispering his name. His eyelids fluttered and a small weary smile curved his lips before he sank into unconsciousness.

"What...happened?" That from Albrecht, showing the same confusion that Scully felt, frowning as he looked down at Eric cradled in Mulder's arms.

"I don't know..." said Mulder with a weary shake of his head, not even wanting to try and figure this one out. That wasn't important--what was important, was that Eric was in trouble...and he had a feeling that this was only a respite. "We have to get him out of here. Get him somewhere safe. Somewhere where...whoever can't reach him."

"I don't know about voodoo priests...but holy ground is supposed to work against vampires," said Albrecht slowly. "A church--" He nodded excitedly at the idea. "I know a priest--Father Salvadore--he'll offer Eric sanctuary. I don't know if it'll work against this Papalaja dude...but it'll stop the other one. Right?" he added, sounding a little uncertain as he glanced at Mulder for confirmation.

"Why're you looking at me?" asked Mulder with a prick of irritation. Just because he had a few odd experiences didn't make him an expert on the occult. At Albrecht's helpless shrug, he sighed. "Well, it can't hurt to take him somewhere else. By now I think everyone in this little drama knows where we're at." Taking one of Eric's arms he slung it over his shoulder and rose, Albrecht helping him to lift the unconscious young man to his feet. Nodding for Sarah and Scully to proceed them, they carried Eric out of the house and to the waiting car.

Father Salvadore was in his early-thirties, a slim man of average height with short, thick dark hair, dressed in blue jeans with the black shirt and white collar of his profession, his attire and wire-rimmed glasses adding to the air of youth he carried with him. Called by Albrecht from the car, he was awaiting them on the front steps of the church, nodding to Scully and Mulder as they were introduced, ruffling Sarah's hair as she came forward.

"Come inside and you can tell me all about this," said Father Salvadore to Albrecht, opening the door for them. Carrying Eric in his arms, Albrecht entered first and the others trailed in behind him, waiting for Father Salvadore to shut the church doors and lead the way to the rear of the church, where his quarters were.

"We have a few extra rooms back here--for visitors and such. Which I don't get any more..." added Father Salvadore with a rueful grin, stepping aside as Albrecht laid Eric down on the bed. He moved up beside Albrecht, a hand reaching to draw a blanket up over Eric, and went abruptly still as he gazed down at the young man sprawled on the bed. Slowly he lifted his eyes to Albrecht's, his own filled with disbelief. "I know him--"

"Yeah...you buried him a little more than a year ago," said Albrecht reluctantly, rubbing his chin. "It's a long story, Father."

Wonderingly Father Salvadore reached out to touch Eric's cheek, as if to reassure himself that the young man was real and not a figment of his imagination, and then turned his gaze to Albrecht. "Then you'd better get started telling it, hadn't you?" he said quietly but with a no-nonsense tone to his voice.

Albrecht looked helplessly at Scully and Mulder and then drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. Where the hell to begin...?

Albrecht told the story to Father Salvadore, with Sarah interjecting comments here and there. The good Father listened carefully then pinned his gaze on Mulder. "There's more to the story," he said softly. "You're in trouble too."

Mulder nodded. No sense in lying to a priest. "Eric is trying to help me."

"That's what he does now," Sarah cut in, one hand tapping Father Salvadore's arm. "He helps people, like you do. Well...not the same way," Sarah allowed, with a sheepish grin. "You try and save their souls and Eric saves their lives. I guess you'd make a good team."

"Sounds like we would," Father Salvadore allowed, smiling at Sarah. He had listened to the fantastic tale that Albrecht had told him. Of Eric coming back to life and of the battle now being waged for his soul. He could feel the eyes of everyone upon him, waiting to see what he would do next. What he would say. Clearing his throat, Father Salvadore replied, "I believe you. And I will help you." He heard the collective sigh of relief and laughed. "As a firm believer in the devil and his dark soul, it's not so odd that I would believe in the dark evil of Voodoo and in the soulessness of vampires."

Albrecht clapped a hand on Father Salvadore's shoulder. "Thank you," he stated, gratefully. "We didn't know where else to go. And I sure as hell don't know how to help Eric at this point."

Father Salvadore turned to study the young man on the bed. He was exotically beautiful and from him radiated a strange innocence. He was a pure soul, but Father Salvadore sensed that Eric did not know that. The other man was an old soul as well. "I think that I can keep Eric safe here," Father Salvadore allowed. "At least from the Prince of darkness. This...Bastian. Vampires cannot tread on holy ground unless invited in."

"Well...no one is going to send him an invitation!" Sarah interjected firmly. "But what about the Voodoo dude? This...Papalaja? How do we fight him?"

"I know a woman...her name is Falana," Father Salvadore replied. "She is white voodoo, and I think she can help us. I'll call and ask her to come." Another glance at Eric and Father Salvadore frowned for the young man's breathing had suddenly become harsh and labored, as if he were in pain. "Perhaps we should send for a doctor?" Father Salvadore suggested.

Scully stepped forward at this point, moving to kneel beside the bed. "I'm a doctor," she declared, a frown twisting her liips. Eric did not look well and when Scully pressed a hand to his forehead it was to discover that he was burning up. "But a doctor without medicine...or knowledge of how to treat a dead man come to life," she conceded.

Father Salvadore nodded. "I will call Falana," he declared, offering a reassuring smile to the group of people gathered about him. "Why don't some of you go and pray for your friend?" he invited them. "Or, at least, light a candle. And after I call Falana I will make something for you to eat. You must be hungry."

"Starving!" Sarah declared, with all the exuberance and honesty of youth. She smiled at Father Salvadore, then turned to Albrecht. "Come on," she beseeched as she grabbed the detective by the hand. "Let's go light a candle for Eric." As she spoke Sarah could have sworn she heard Shelly's whisper for her to light one for her as well. Silently she promised to do so.

"Sounds like a plan," Albrecht conceeded, as he let Sarah lead him out of the room. He stole a glance back at Eric who was writhing on the bed now, restless and agitated, and he feared for the young man. Body and soul.

Bastian calmed down. He cursed the fact that it was hours till nightfall so he was trapped in his tomb, but that did not stop him from seeing his way. Through Eric's eyes he knew where the young man resided, in the church. Fury had washed over Bastian at first, but then he had realized that he had nothing to fear. Come nightfall he would go to the church and call to Eric. Bastian had only to remind the young man that he was the way back to Shelly and Eric would come back to him. And if his friends tried to stop him from leaving again, Bastian needed only to be invited on to holy ground by Eric and he would be able to wreak havoc and claim the young man.

Not that it would be quite that simple, Bastian knew, for even now he could still sense Papalaja's presence. The Voodoo priest was attempting to tap into Eric, but he did not have a blood hold on the young man. Not in the way that Bastian did. One more kiss and Eric's soul would be his. The light would be absorbed by the darkness and Bastian would be free. FREE! He laughed in sheer delight and the sound echoed eerily about the tomb.

Eric dreamed. Fever dreams of Shelly. He remembered falling ill with a bad case of the flu one winter and Shelly had nursed him through it. Eric's temperature had skyrocketed one night and Shelly had wanted to call for an ambulance. But Eric had begged her not to, assuring Shelly that if she held his hand and stayed with him, he would be all right. He had drifted in and out of consciousness for two days, unaware of all that Shelly had done for him, awaking only to find that she lay beside him, the fingers of one hand tangled in his hair, and her eyes on his face. The fever had faded and Eric had been weak, but he had never felt more connected to Shelly than in that moment. As if she had used her own body and soul, her strength, and had shared it with him to make him well.

But Shelly was gone now, apart from him, and Eric whimpered as he watched the image of her dissolve. He reached out with one hand and felt fingers clutching his. Held his breath for a moment only to realize that it wasn't Shelly who touched him and the thought was like the white-hot stab of a knifeblade in his flesh. Eric flung the hand away and screamed with pain. There was someone in his head. A presence that was an invasion. Not Bastian....the other. Trying to claim him, to rape his soul. The touch was like salt on a raw wound and Eric reacted blindly, wanting to be rid of the pain.

Scully watched in horror as Eric rose from the bed and snarled at her. She knew better than to try and restrain him on her own and so she screamed for help. A moment later Albrecht and Mulder entered the room. "Something's going on," Scully hissed, stating the obvious.

"Eric...?" Albrecht moved to within the young man's line of sight, but he sensed that Eric did not see him. That he was trapped in some kind of private nightmare. A personal hell. A chill ran the length of Albrecht's spine, but he held his ground. "Easy, buddy," Albrecht drawled, reaching out a slow hand to Eric. "Calm down and let us help you."

"SHELLY!" Eric screamed, his body shuddering as pain rippled through him. He was being violated again and he could not stop it. His soul was being shredded and without it he would lose his way home. "No..." Eric pleaded, and in that moment he knew there was only one being who could help him. Silently he called out to him. ::::Bastian::::

The vampire was listening and he answered Eric's plea. Used the connection of blood and soul to send the young man his strength. Darkness was stronger than light and so Bastian flooded Eric with black fire.

Sarah was the first to see Eric's eyes glow. "Look at that!" she breathed, pointing it out to the others as she entered the room. She had heard Scully's scream but had farther to come. All the way from the kitchen where she had been sampling Father Salvadore's chocolate chip cookies.

"Bastian..." Mulder whispered, as he moved to cut off Eric's escape through the door. He gasped a moment later when the young man laughed then whirled and headed for the window. "He's gonna jump!" Mulder shouted, leaping forward. But he would be too late.

"ERIC!" a voice thundered. It was Father Salvadore. He came striding into the room.

Eric heard the voice and turned, only to hiss and fall to his knees when Father Salvadore touched him. Pain writhed through Eric like an eel slithering through his veins. It intensified till he thought he would burst, then it was gone, washing away like a wave receding from the sand. And in that moment oblivion claimed Eric in its black velvet embrace.

Albrecht was at Eric's side in a heartbeat. "What the hell did you do to him?" he challenged Father Salvadore.

"Holy water," Father Salvadore replied, showing the wetness on his skin. "Put him back to bed," he ordered, gesturing to Eric. "And bind him with scarves."

"Whoa...hold on there, Father," Sarah protested, not liking the idea of Eric being tied down. She knew he would hate the loss of his freedom.

Father Salvadore patted Sarah on the head as he rose to his feet. "It is a neccessary evil," he explained. "The Dark Prince will come tonight, and Eric will want to go to him. One more blood kiss and Eric's soul will be absorbed by the darkness. We cannot let that happen."

Sarah nodded agreement. "I'll get the scarves," she volunteered, stepping out of the way as Albrecht and Mulder put Eric back to bed. She stopped to stare at Eric's face and blinked back a tear. "Forgive me," she whispered to him. "I just want you to get better." With that Sarah ran out after Father Salvadore, knowing in her heart that tonight would be the longest night in her short life.

Carrying a tray, Father Salvadore entered the room and smiled as he swept his eyes across the room. Sarah lay curled up in one chair, asleep, and Mulder had claimed another chair, head cushioned on folded arm as he slept. He had left Scully in the church's infirmary, sorting through its contents for something to help Eric, and Albrecht sat at the young man's bedside.

"How is he doing?" Father Salvadore asked Albrecht, setting down the tray of sandwiches he'd made.

"Sleeping...I think," said Albrecht, glancing over at the still form of Eric. The young man's head was turned into the pillow, sweat-dampened dark hair spilling across his features, and arms and ankles had been secured to the bedposts by scarves, to prevent him from leaving the bed.

"Here." Father Salvadore gave Albrecht a sandwich and he accepted it with a grateful nod, taking a huge bite out of it as Father Salvadore went around the bed to take a chair on the other side. "I called Falana--she should be by in a few hours. She had something she had to take care of first. Called someone else that might be able to help us with this...vampire...but that will take longer, I think."

"Well...between us...we should be able to keep him under control. I hope..." added Albrecht ruefully as he glanced down at Eric. The young man looked so frail and exhausted now...but Albrecht knew from experience how deceptive that appearance could seem. And once he was determined to do something...nothing would stop him...

"The evil one's power is strongest at night." Father Salvadore reminded Albrecht. "This will be the darkest time of young Eric's struggle. As his friend, you will have to be strong for him."

Albrecht nodded. "I will be--we will be," he added, glancing over the others as he finished his sandwich. He stretched, groaning with the movement, and rose from the chair, staggering a little on legs stiff from sitting too long. "I'm going to take a walk around the church--can you watch him for me?"

"Of course," said Father Salvadore warmly.

"Thanks." Albrecht gave the father a weary smile and left the room to make his way around the church, stretching stiff legs. As he moved past the kitchen, he saw a light on and poked his head inside to see Scully standing at the counter, sipping from a mug of coffee.

She raised her head at Albrecht's entrance and gave him a small nod of greeting. "How is Eric?"

"Seems to be sleeping," said Albrecht with a shake of his head. "Just when I think I'm used to him...he does something weird like this to throw me off balance again."

Scully smiled wearily. "I know that feeling," she said with a rueful twist of her mouth.

Leaning back against the counter, Albrecht gave her a sideways look. "Your partner seems to just take this all in stride--what about you?"

"Me..." Scully set the coffee mug down, turning her head to meet his eyes. "I take it with a grain of salt. Even with seeing...it's hard to believe."

"I had a hard time accepting Eric too...but there were things about him that just didn't fit into my neat little preconceptions about...everything," said Albrecht, lifting his hands helplessly. "Once I decided to just go along for the ride...it seemed to make things easier."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Scully dryly.

"Well...I'm gonna go take a look at the front..." Pushing away from the counter, Albrecht left Scully alone with her thoughts.

A soft moaning brought Sarah up out of sleep and she rubbed her eyes with a fist as she uncurled on the chair. Looking over to the bed, she saw Father Salvadore seated beside it and Eric still lying on it, his head moving weakly back and forth on the pillow. Father Salvadore reached out to lay a hand on Eric's forehead and Eric jerked away from his touch, muttering something in his sleep.

Coming up beside Father Salvadore, Sarah bit her lip as she looked down at Eric, seeing the sweat that sheened his pale features, damp strands of dark hair clinging to his forehead and cheekbones. Father Salvadore managed a smile for Sarah but his dark eyes were concerned as he gazed down at Eric. "I'll be right back--watch him for a moment?" At Sarah's nod, Father Salvadore rose from the chair to touch her briefly on the top of the head before he left the room.

"Sarah..."

With a jerk of surprise, Sarah looked down at Eric, his dark eyes feverish as they stared up at her, sweat trickling down from his forehead. "Help me..." he whispered, tugging weakly at the bonds on his wrists.

"No, Eric. You have to stay here," said Sarah, casting an anxious glance over her shoulder for the priest. Looked over to where Agent Mulder still slept and bit her lip.

"He can help me...get to...Shelly. Have to be...with Shelly...please..." As she stared down at him in anguish, tears filled his eyes to spill down his cheeks, mingling with the sweat, and his mouth trembled, eyes dark with pain and grief and loneliness. "Please, Sarah...she's all...I have. Please..."

Sarah shook her head. "No, Eric--" And bit her lip hard as she watched him jerk at his wrists, kicking his feet in an attempt to get free, writhing desperately on the bed till he was sobbing for breath, chest heaving as he slumped back on the bed. Tears in her eyes, Sarah reached for one wrist with the intent to free it...only to have her wrist grabbed by strong fingers.

"No," said Mulder firmly, drawing her back from the bed.

Eric's head rolled on the pillow, his eyes focusing on Mulder with a hateful intensity. "Bastard!" he hissed. "Let me...go!" He began to struggle again, more frantically this time, and Mulder came to hold him down while Father Salvadore hurried back into the room to trace a finger damp with holy water across Eric's forehead, in the sign of the cross. Eric screamed at the touch, body arching under Mulder, and then went abruptly limp. Gingerly Mulder moved back, sighing as he saw that Eric was once more unconscious, and nodded to Father Salvadore in gratitude.

"It's going to be a long night..." he said.

Bastian stood before the church, cloaked in darkness, extending his senses to touch the one that he sensed lay inside. With the fall of night, he was free to roam and here he had come, to give Eric the last and final kiss that would bind them forever. And with the sealing of that bond, Bastian would no longer be prisoner to the sun...he would be free to walk in the day. And could create others to walk in the day as well...to be his soldiers in the conquest of all mortal men...

::::Eric.:::: he whispered, seeking the young man's mind.

In the church Eric opened his eyes at the call, blinking as he turned his head on the pillow in search of who had spoken his name. Saw Scully and Mulder standing together, talking quietly, Sarah curled up in a chair again asleep, and turned his focus inward, knowing now who it was that spoke to him.

::::You are so very close to reuniting with Shelly:::: whispered Bastian in his mind. ::::And yet they would bar you from her--are they truly your friends?:::: >Tell me what to do, thought Eric, despair filling him at the thought of his chance to be with Shelly dissolved to ashes.

::::You must invite me in. Let me in...and you will be with Shelly...soon.::::

"I...invite you in..." whispered Eric aloud, his voice a thin hoarse sound...but it was the words that had meaning, the words themselves that granted Bastian entrance. He felt Bastian's triumphant like a hot flame licking over him and then fading as the vampire drew nearer.

In the kitchen with Father Salvadore, Albrecht heard the sound of the front door opening and frowned as he exchanged glances with the priest. "Your friend Falana likely to just walk in?"

Father Salvadore shook his head, worry in his eyes, and together they made their way from the kitchen to inspect the front door, finding it just ajar. Exchanging a glance, they turned as one to hurry back to the room where Eric lay.

At the sound of footsteps, Scully's attention shifted from Mulder and to the door, expecting to see either Albrecht or Father Salvadore there...but it was neither of them. Instead it was a man clad all in black, tall and powerfully built and oddly regal despite his bulk. He moved with the grace and power of a cat and his eyes...his eyes glowed red...

"Mulder!" she said sharply, stepping around him and drawing her gun at the same time. The figure swooped down on them, one hand lashing out to casually slap Mulder down even as he turned to face him, his other hand batting at Scully and sending her crumpling to the floor.

With the two agents down, Bastian went to the bed and effortlessly tore apart the scarves that bound Eric's wrists and ankles. Lifting Eric into his arms, he moved to exit the room...only to stagger a little as a slim form slammed into his legs.

"Leave him...alone!" shouted Sarah, striking uselessly with small fists at Bastian's back and kicking at his legs.

Snarling, Bastian swept her away from him and stalked out of the room, heading for the main hall of the church. He met Father Salvadore first and as the father fumbled for his cross, he struck the priest on the cheek and sent him sprawling down to the floor. Albrecht took a hasty step back, lifting his gun to take aim and hesitating because Eric was in the way...and he was no longer sure that the young man was impervious to bullets. Hitting him in the chest with the flat of his hand, Bastian sent Albrecht flying back to land hard, the breath leaving him in an agonized grunt.

Out in the main hall, Bastian lowered Eric so that the young man stood on shaky feet, sweeping dark hair back from his throat to set his mouth to the pulse there. Lips skinned back from his teeth and he drew back for the strike...

"Hey, fang face!"

At the call, Bastian turned...and hissed at the brilliantly golden cross that was thrust at him. Staggering back, he let Eric slump to the floor as he lifted both arms to shield his eyes from the sight of the hated holy cross. Through his arms, he saw a figure behind the glow of golden light and a wooden stake held in one hand, a stake that could end his immortal existence. With a snarl of rage, he turned and fled, diving through one stained glass window in his flight.

Wheezing for air, Albrecht staggered into the main hall, clutching his gun in one hand as the other lay on his stomach, blinking to clear his vision. He saw a limp figure lying on the floor--Eric--and a young woman kneeling over him, a wooden stake in one hand. Tucking the stake into a belt loop on her jeans, she grasped Eric's chin to turn it, examining the flesh of his throat, and as Albrecht came up beside her, she lifted her head to look at him, straightening to brush her hands off on her jeans.

"Well...I'm here," she said brusquely, a hand lifting to brush a stray lock of brown hair out of her eyes.

"And who are you?" Albrecht managed to gasp.

The young woman--girl, he amended, mentally reversing her age--grinned at him and stuck out her hand. "Lily, vamp slayer extraordinaire. At your service..."

Albrecht stared at Lily, ignoring her outstretched hand. "How old are you?" he asked, bluntly.

"Sixteen," she replied, not in the least bit offended. Lily was used to the question, and to the look of disbelief that appeared on the face of the man who gaped at her. "You must be Albrecht," she announced. Father Salvadore had filled her in on the motley group that were his guests as it were.

"Yeah, Albrecht." Heaving a sigh the detective gripped Lily's hand. "Sorry...uh...thanks for your help," he stated, belatedly.

Lily nodded then glanced back down at Eric. "No problem. Wow...Father Salvadore didn't tell me Eric was such a babe!" she exclaimed. For even pale, his hair matted and looking like death warmed over, Eric Draven was a hottie. Of course, Lily remembered him from his rock star days a little over a year ago when Eric had played lead guitar and wrote songs for Hangman's Joke. At not quite fifteen, Lily's perception of men had been a bit different.

Albrecht heaved a sigh. Heaven help him from teenagers. His niece, Rachel, was the same way as Lily about boys/men who were babes. "Father Salvadore sent for you?" Albrecht queried, even as he moved to lift Eric into his arms. He returned the young man to the bed.

"Yeah...Antonio gave me a call," Lily conceded. She watched Albrecht settle Eric on the bed and cover him with a blanket. From her back pocket she pulled out two strips of fine silk. "Bind his wrists with these," she ordered, holding them out. "They'll protect Eric till the sun comes back out."

"What makes these bindings so special?" Albrecht asked even as he obeyed the request. After seeing Bastian in person, he didn't want to risk Eric being taken again.

Lily shrugged as she watched Albrecht tie the cords to Eric Draven's wrists. "They were saturated in Holy water and sprinkled with garlic for flavoring," she replied, a cheeky grin stretching across her face.

Albrecht glared at her then realized she was probably telling the truth. "I need a vacation," he sighed, once his task was done. Just then Albrecht stiffened as he heard footsteps approach. He reached for his gun but relaxed when he saw that it was Mulder and the others.

"You've met Lily," Father Salvadore said to Albrecht as he approached.

"She's quite the girl," Albrecht acknowledged. "How does one go about finding a...vampire slayer anyway, Father?"

Father Salvadore grinned and patted Lily on the shoulder. "She's my niece," he replied. "My oldest sister's youngest daughter."

Albrecht roled his eyes. "Figures."

"How is Eric?" Scully interjected, as she moved to the free side of the bed.

"He looks...bad," Sarah stated, as she joined Scully. She was still trembling and feeling a tiny bit scared after seeing Bastian in the flesh. Or whatever he was. And Sarah had been terrified that she had truly lost Eric this time. Even though he was still with them in the body, Sarah wondered if all this tug of war with his soul wasn't going to drive Eric insane.

Scully examined Eric and found herself agreeing with Sarah, yet she didn't want to frighten the girl. Sarah had been through enough for one evening. "I think he needs to eat," Scully stated, as her fingertips brushed dark hair from Eric's forehead.

Sarah huffed a sigh. "Eric hasn't eaten or slept since he came back from the dead," she announced.

"He sleeps now," Father Salvadore gently pointed out. "I think that Eric is changing again, Sarah," he stated, moving to stand behind the young girl. "If he is to be with Shelly again, in some place...then I think he has to change."

"Change into what?" Sarah challenged. "A vampire or a zombie?" She didn't like what she was hearing.

Father Salvadore gave her a quick hug. "No," he said softly. "I think that Eric came back for avenge his and Shelly's deaths. But that was not enough. He is a special man with a pure soul. He is meant to do good here in our world. His world. To help the people who cannot help themselves. That is why Bastian and Papalaja want him so badly. He is the pure light..and the power...that they need to be invincible."

Sarah's eyes shot blue sparks. "Well they can't have him!" she hissed, moving to lay herself over Eric's limp form. "I won't let them!"

"None of us will let that happen, Sarah," Mulder said as he laid a hand on Sarah's back. "He saved my life, and Scully's...I'm damn well gonna do whatever it takes to save him."

"Thanks," Sarah stated, turning into Mulder's embrace. He was almost as cool as Eric.

Albrecht dropped into the chair next to the bed and let his shoulders slump in weariness. "Now what?" he questioned, to the group at large.

Mulder dropped down on the floor and heaved a sigh, he was getting too old for this kind of thing, even though he did find it rather exciting. But his concern for Eric's welfare was strong. "I don't know what to do," Mulder confessed. He would have said more but a strong voice interrupted him.

"Am I in time for the party?"

All heads turned towards the doorway to see a strikingly beautiful woman with dark caramel colored skin and pale eyes enter the room.

Father Salvadore greeted her with a hug. "Falana...I'm glad you could make it," he said sincerely.

"I'm glad too, Father," Falana replied. She smiled at the others in the room but her focus tuned in to the man on the bed. To Eric. She glided over to him and placed the palm of one hand on his forehead. A shudder went through Falana that was matched by Eric even in his unconscious state. But deep inside him he was aware, Falana could feel it. She could feel Eric's power as well. The vibrations of his light. "He is the true one," Falana whispered.

"Can you help him?" This came from Sarah.

Falana smiled at the young girl. "I can try," she allowed. "But Eric will have to be strong for the two darkest evils in the world would claim him, and the one is in already in his blood even as the other rapes his soul." A dramatic pause followed Falana's words and a cold chill permeated the air as the room fell into dead silence.

With Falana's grim announcement, there was really nothing else to be said and so the group settled down to wait for the coming of dawn...and the temporary removal of one of the two threats they faced in the battle for Eric's soul. Lily and Falana volunteered to take watch while the others took brief naps, exhaustion dragging them down into sleep even when they thought they wouldn't be able to.

Dawn came at last, the dark sky surrendering to the day with the first blush of the sun rising, filling the sky with its brilliant light. With the coming of dawn, the focus was moved from Bastian to the voodoo priest Papalaja, whose hold on Eric--while not as strong as that of Bastian's--was a threat to the young man's soul and sanity.

"Papalaja is a bokor--a priest that chooses to follow the dark magic. He gains his power from human sacrifice offered to the baka--evil spirits. Over the years he has amassed a great deal of power." On her lap, Falana held a half-grown black kitten, stroking its back as it lay placidly in her lap, as she spoke to the assembled friends. "He has sensed in Eric a great power--and he wishes to take that power for his own. His control over Eric stems from his ability to manipulate the spirits of the dead--the bokor raise zombies and the like."

"How do we stop him?" asked Mulder practically.

Falana bestowed a serene smile on him. "Only Eric can stop him--with my help. He has the power in him to break Papalaja's hold...for he is not like any spirit that Papalaja has called and bound. He is not meant for Papalaja."

"So you take out this bokor guy...and we take the vamp. Sounds like a plan to me!" said Lily cheerfully.

Scratching the top of the kitten's head, Falana nodded. "I would ask that one of you remain here, to safeguard Eric and myself while I perform a cleansing ritual. For it to succeed, I must have no distractions."

"I'll stay." volunteered Sarah immediately and ducked as Albrecht ruffled her hair, tossing him a scowl of outrage.

"So will I." That from Scully, earning her a look of surprise from Mulder and a pleased nod from Father Salvadore. "I think I can probably do the most good here...with a more... tangible foe," said Scully dryly.

Falana regarded her steadily, head tilted sideways, and then gave a nod. "Papalaja might not move on us himself...but he will send his soldiers to retrieve Eric. If he fails to succeed in establishing enough control to force Eric to come to him. Your help would be greatly welcomed."

"I'll stay as well," said Father Salvadore, reluctance coloring his tone as he glanced at his niece. "I'll be more use here...and perhaps my prayers will give you both strength."

Lily slapped her uncle on the shoulder. "You're gonna miss all the fun!" she said with a mock pout, dark eyes twinkling.

Albrecht gave the girl a jaundiced look, shaking his head. What was fun about creeping through an old mausoleum of a house looking for a vampire that no doubt knew every in and out of the place? he asked himself sourly. And of course he'd have to go along...even though he didn't relish the thought of taking the vampire on again. But he owed it to Eric...

"So...we'd better get going," said Mulder, glancing at his watch. "If I remember my vamp movies...ol' Dracula had to sleep sometime...and it seems like this would be the time of day for it."

"I'll get my stuff!" Jumping up from the chair, Lily set off to retrieve her bag and Mulder rose as well, stretching with a groan, Albrecht moving to rise as well. Father Salvadore got up from his chair as well.

"The damage your weapons can do to the vampire will be minimal. I'll draw some holy water for you." And off he went.

Scully moved to Mulder's side, touching him briefly on the arm. "You'll be careful?"

"Of course," said Mulder, managing a bit of cockiness...even past the cold stab of fear in his stomach. He'd run up against vampires before...but none of them had the power or strength that Bastian had. "You watch yourself, too, Scully," he said softly.

At her nod, Mulder went off in search of Lily, Albrecht following behind him.

It seemed an odd place to hold a pagan ritual, in a Catholic church, but here was where Falana would hold her ritual. Scully watched as the woman began her preparations, setting a ring of candles around a low table, and Father Salvadore came forward to take Scully's arm. "Help me bring Eric."

Nodding, Scully followed him back to the room they'd placed Eric in and between the two of them they carried the still unconscious Eric to the room Falana had appropiated. As they arrived, he seemed to rouse a little, swaying as he stood between them, and Falana came forward to touch him on the forehead, pale eyes darkening as fine lines of concentration appeared on her forehead, smoothing as she stepped away.

"Strip him," she ordered.

Scully raised an eyebrow but did as she asked, her training as a doctor taking over. With Father Salvadore's assistance, she removed Eric's clothing and laid it aside, directing the dazed Eric to the table and laying him down. In the dimness of the room, the light of the candles lent a golden hue to his skin, skin stretched taut over firm, sculpted muscle, from lean chest to slim waist and then long legs. Sweat glistened on his skin and dark hair clung to pale features, accentuating high cheekbones. Beautiful, Scully thought, with no scientific detachment at all.

Kneeling beside Eric, Falana drew a clay pot to her side and dipped her fingers into it, till her fingers were coated white with the substance that lay inside it. "To fight Papalaja on his own ground would be foolhardy. With the power he has amassed from the loa, he is a very formidable opponent. Eric's strength lies in his bond with the one that he loves...and has lost. We will call Shelly to him so that he can gain the strength to resist Papalaja." Singing softly to herself, she drew symbols on Eric's bare skin, the stark white standing out, and Scully followed the tracing fingers, finding the swooping rhythm to be oddly hypnotic.

Eric moaned at the touch, his upper torso lifting a little up off the table, and Falana touched a finger tip to his forehead, whispering something soothing to him, Eric sinking back down. Father Salvadore stood off to the side, fingering his rosary beads and whisperein soft prayers of his own, his prayers interwining with Falana's soft song, mingling with it till the two were as one. He moved forward to lay hands on Eric as Falana did and without realizing what she was doing, Scully moved forward as well, to tentatively touch one limp hand.

Burning, burning, burning--try though he might, he could not remember a time when the fire had not burned in him, that cruel light that insinuated itself into soul and mind. No resistance would hold against it, his strength like nothing against it. Eric reached for the presence of Bastian but could not find him...and desolation swept through him. If he didn't have the vampire's assistance, then how could he free himself? And return to his beloved Shelly? Without Bastian, he would be a slave to Papalaja...

A sound reached him, soft and melodious, more a sensation than anything, humming in his blood, in muscles and bone, till he was vibrating with it. A song...one that called to him, beckoned him, urged him to join with it...and he fell into the song's magic, allowing it entrance to himself, to even the most secret parts of himself...

And with the song came a flare of golden light so bright it hurt his eyes, fading slowly... to show itself to be Shelly.

"Shelly...." Eric breathed her name as he reached for her.

"Yes Eric...it's me," Shelly replied, reaching out to him as well. When their fingers touched a white light sparked then flared between them, but they remained joined. "I want to help you...but you have to be willing to help yourself, my love."

Eric felt himself sitting up, drawn forward by Shelly's touch, needing to touch her more. He did not know that his body did not move from the table, that the only reaction those watching could see was his trembling.

But Falana knew. She could feel Shelly's presence, and see it in the soft glow that suddenly filled the room. A smile curved her lips for a moment, then faded as she forced herself to concentrate on the bond that Eric was forging. He had to complete the union with Shelly or all would be lost. Only Papalaja was not going to make it easy on them. Even now Falana could feel his presence reaching out to Eric and she used her own power to block him as best she could. To give Eric and Shelly even a few, precious, seconds.

"You must fight the evil that wants to possess you Eric," Shelly whispered, as his spirit joined her. "You can't let the darkness claim you."

"My whole world is darkness without you in it, Shelly," Eric replied. He nearly wept as he reached out with his free hand and touched her hair. It was softer than he remembered, like the finest silk. "I want to be with you," he whispered.

Shelly smiled at Eric, reaching out with her free hand to touch his face. "And I with you," she breathed. "Our time will come, Eric, but it's not now. No matter what promises have been made to you, if you try to cross over now...I'll lose you forever."

Her words pierced Eric's heart like a knife. "NO!" he screamed, his arms wrapping around Shelly and gathering her close.

"You came back for a reason, Eric," Shelly whispered in his ear as she allowed him to hold her in his heart. "To help those who have lost their way. To guide them back to the light because you are the light. That's what drew me to you in life, and what will lead you back to me in the end."

"I'm tired of waiting," Eric sobbed.

Shelly tangled her fingers in his hair. "Time will stand still for us, Eric. We will together in the end...if you're strong enough. If you let the darkness take you...then we'll never be together. Do you understand?"

Eric couldn't speak, so he nodded as he buried his face in Shelly's hair. He didn't really understand. His mind was chaos, his body a mass of pain. But he would have said anything in that moment to keep Shelly in his arms.

"No..." Falana hissed suddenly, breaking out of her trance.

"What is it?" Scully asked, her eyes bright with concern for the other woman looked ashen and ready to collapse.

Falana went to Eric and saw that he was still with Shelly so he would not be able to help. To break him away from her now would only hurt him more. "Papalaja's soldiers have arrived," Falana whispered.

Father Salvadore bit his lip. "They're in the church?" he asked, only to have his questioned answered by the door crashing open. A dozen men, ebony skinned and muscle-bound, entered.

"I will not let you take him!" Falana shouted, as she confronted one of the soldiers. She held out her hand, shaking a white feather at him and he backed away. For the moment.

"Dammit!" Scully hissed, using more conventional means on her foe. She shot him and turned to take down another when an arm grabbed her from behind. Fingertips brushed her forehead and a harsh word was muttered. In that moment Scully felt her muscles go limp and dead and she collapsed in her captor's arms, only to be dropped to the floor. Paralyzed and helpless.

Father Salvadore suffered the same fate.

Falana was not as lucky. With the odds against her and her power limited, she fell under an attack as one of the soldiers stabbed her in the back with a thin stiletto whose fine blade was stained with blood. With a cry, Falana collapsed and went still. Alive, but not alive.

"I have to go now Eric," Shelly whispered, her tone somewhat frantic. She knew that he would be taken from her soon. When it looked as if Eric would protest, Shelly kissed him into silence.

But it could not last. One of the soldiers lifted Eric's body from the table, uncaring of the young man's nakedness. And in that moment Eric found himself ripped from Shelly's embrace. He cried out in agony, then fell silent.

The soldiers were pleased with their work. Papalaja would be proud. As silently as they had come they drifted away, taking Eric with them.

But what none of them noticed was the small girl who followed them, slipping into the back of one of their vehicles to hide beneath a blanket. From her hiding spot Sarah tried not to shake too badly. She had to be brave. There was no one else who could rescue Eric.

Mulder smacked his cell phone. Not that it was to blame for the fact that Scully wasn't answering, but he needed to hit something. "I don't like it," Mulder stated, turning his head to look at Albrecht. "Something's wrong."

"Maybe they're busy," Albrecht offered as a lame excuse. He had a tingle in his spine that suggested something was wrong as well. Without another word he turned the car around and headed back for the church.

"This is not good," Lily announced from the back seat.

Mulder sighed. "When is it ever?"

They returned to the church to find the doors open and the main hall deathly silent. Expression grim, Lily led the way to the altar and behind it, to a short hallway that led to another room. From the doorway came the faint flickering of candles and Lily reached to the side to throw a switch, light flooding the room.

Scully lay sprawled on her back, one leg curled awkwardly under her, arms outstretched as they lay on the floor, as if she had been reaching for something, and she stared blankly up at the ceiling, beads of sweat dotting on her forehead to slide slowly down her cheeks. A few feet from her Father Salvadore lay sprawled on his stomach, one arm outstretched and the other trapped under him.

Moving quickly forward to check Scully, Mulder dropped to his knees beside her and pressed two fingers to her throat to check for a pulse. Sighed in relief to see that it was strong and steady and straightened to look at her, watching her eyes move to follow him, desperation and a touch of fear in the blue depths. She made a small sound deep in her throat, the fear flaring in her eyes when she made the effort to move...and yet couldn't.

"Hang in there, Scully. We'll call an ambulance."

"No." Mulder lifted his head at Lily's denial, the girl looking up from her uncle's still form. Her dark eyes were filled with determination and strength, the flighty teenager gone to be replaced by someone far older than her years. "This will wear off--give it a couple of hours." She rose from Father Salvadore's side to go to the low table surrounded by candles burned nearly down and the slim form sprawled there, that Mulder hadn't seen before.

"Damn--" she muttered as she knelt by Falana's side, a hand touching her low on the back and coming away streaked with blood. She raised her fingers to her nose and inhaled deeply, scowling at the scent she smelled. Touching Falana on the cheek she turned on her haunches to meet Mulder's eyes. "Call 555-6700. Ask for Colin and tell him we have a situation here." As Mulder merely stared at her, she ordered, "Do it...now!" And turned back to Falana, Mulder forgotten.

Grumbling under his breath at being so presumptuously ordered around by a kid, Mulder nevertheless did as he was told, bypassing Albrecht as he went. Albrecht looked quickly around the room and demanded, "So where is Sarah?"

Lily could only shake her head as she tended Falana. "I wouldn't worry too much about her. She reminds me of me when I was a kid--no matter the scrapes I got into, I always managed to land on my feet."

Somehow Albrecht couldn't find any comfort in her blase words.

Solange smiled as her father's soldiers bore the limp form of Eric into the small temple, striding forward to admire the long naked length of him. She ran her fingers across his bare lean chest, sliding slowly down flat belly and then lower--

"Daughter."

Solange snatched her hand back at the sound of her father's voice and turned to him, full red lips curved in a pout. "I was only...touching."

"When we are done...then you may do with him as you wish. But there is the rite to perform first," said Papalaja softly and Solange cringed a little under his cold gaze. "Come...they will prepare him. We have preparations of our own to see to." He extended his hand to Solange and she took it, following him obediently from the room as the soldiers proceeded to cleanse Eric's body for the ritual.

Sarah had remained curled up in the back of the truck, covered by a blanket, waiting until it was completely quiet before she dared to move...and then only a little bit at a time, tenatively raising the blanket to peer out. Fearing that a hand would snatch at her and drag her out of the truck, to take her inside so that the witch Solange could hurt her again...but finding to her relief that no one lurked nearby, waiting for her to emerge.

Eventually she managed to get out of the truck and to look quickly around her, finding to her surprise that they weren't that far from the church. And could have laughed aloud, to see that Papalaja and Solange dwelt in a house in the very midst of a middle class neighborhood, white picket fences and all. The house was down a short driveway and shielded from the road by a row of brush...but it was easy to sneak up the driveway and out onto the road.

She knew that she had zero chance of getting Eric out on her own...and so she went in search of a phone. Could only hope that by now there would be someone at the church...someone that could help them...

Brushing tears from her eyes, she continued down the sidewalk in her search.

Eric felt hands on him, the sensation of wetness being poured over his flesh. The scent of some flower clung to his nostril even as it clung to his flesh for he recognized that the hands were rubbing oil into his skin. It occurred to him also that he was naked, but that didn't bother him at this point. All that mattered was Shelly. They had touched again...he had held her and now she was gone.

A lone tear slid down Eric's face to be stopped by the flicker of a tongue. He jumped then forced open his eyes to see a young woman standing over him. Solange.

"Tears of a pure soul," Solange whispered, licking her lips. "Sweet..." she purred, leaning down over Eric now, her tongue lapping at his mouth. "I will have you body and soul," Solange declared, her eyes roving down the length of Eric's body. He was perfection. His skin like silk over steel and every muscle sculptured as if by an artist's hand. And his manhood...that too was perfect. Solange felt herself grow wet in anticipation. Part of the ritual would be the joining of their bodies while her father joined their souls.

"I will...not...give in...to you!" Eric hissed, finding it hard to speak. That he had to force each word past the thickness of throat and tongue. Wondered what had been given to him. A drug of some kind, no doubt. Eric closed his eyes for a moment, shutting out Solange's face, and wishing that he could slip into darkness and find Shelly waiting for him.

Solange let her fingertips trace the outline of Eric's sensual mouth. "You will do what you must to survive," she whispered. "You will join with my father and me, Eric. Or you will lose your heart and soul. You will lose the one you love."

Eric wanted to flinch away from Solange's touch, but he could not move. "Never!" he shouted, using all his strength to try and move. But his muscles would not budge and his shout was barely a whisper. A sense of helplessness flooded through Eric and he wanted to weep. But he knew that he had to be strong. For Shelly.

"It is time, daughter." Papalaja's voice danced in the still air. It was nearing the midnight hour and the ceremony was to begin. He smiled at his daughter, taking in the sight of her lush beauty draped in a sheer white robe.

"Coming, father," Solange purred, giving Eric one last glance before gliding away to join her father. Papalaja stood within a ring of candles. White candles that burned brightly. Solange stood just outside the ring. She turned to look at the alter where Eric lay, on a bed of stone covered with white satin. Assistants moved about him now, placing candles around the alter as one checked the bonds of silk cord that bound Eric's wrists and ankles. Not really neccessary now for he was paralyzed by the potion Papalaja had given him earlier. But it was best to take precautions.

Papalaja watched the assistants like the candles around Eric, then he nodded to a man at his right. The sound of soft drum beats filled the air. They were in an open room, like a temple, with no ceiling. The night must watch over them now. Letting the beat of the drum hum in his soul like a heart beat, Papalaja closed his eyes and began to chant.

After a time Solange let herself be caught up in the sound as well and soon she began to dance. It was a primal dance of body and soul and it wasn't long before her skin was slick with sweat. The power that was her birthright surged up in Solange and she let it pour out. Closer to Eric she danced, ripping off her robe and revelling in her nakedness as she stepped within his ring of candles.

Eric watched Solange in horrified fascination. He struggled against the magic that held him as she climbed over his body, her lush thighs straddling his waist. He felt her wet heat as her femininity touched him, as she moved to rest on his thighs before gripping his manhood in her strong fingers. Eric wanted to weep as he felt her join them together. NO! his mind screamed. Twice before Solange had raped Eric's soul, now she would rape his body. What Eric didn't know was that part of Papalaja's plan was that Solange would bear Eric's son. And that the child would be raised in the ways of the Vodun. But that was only part of the plan. "NO!" Eric screamed out loud this time, only to fall silent when a soft voice whispered in his head.

::::You have the power to stop them, Eric::::

It was Shelly and Eric almost wept in relief. ::::I have no power now:::: he whispered back.

::::Your heart and soul, Eric:::: Shelly told him. ::::Your heart and soul:::: Her voice faded away with her last words.

In that moment Eric thought he understood. He closed his eyes and brought to mind images of him and Shelly. Of their love and union. And it was then that he felt the power within him. Felt a vibration in his blood and then a tingle of white-heat. Eric panted as he sent the signal for his muscles to move and in that moment they obeyed. The bonds that held him snapped and Eric shoved Solange off of him, not caring that she landed hard on the stone floor, hitting her head.

Papalaja stared in disbelief as Eric rose from the table. The young man was magnificent. A naked warrior from the past come to life. But Papalaja also sensed the power in Eric and knew that it was stronger than he had hoped. Yet not too strong for Papalaja to control. He pulled the dagger from his belt and drew the edge of the blade across his palm. He let the blood from the wound drip down to the floor and then began to chant again, calling on the power of his ancestors to bind to him even as he bound Eric's soul.

But Eric was not willing to submit. He felt the rush of adrenaline flow inside him and he used it to take down the soldiers who guarded him. Once they had fallen, Eric glided towards Papalaja, only to stumble as the other man held out his blood covered hand.

"Not this time, Papalaja," drawled a dark voice. From the shadows a figure emerged. Bastian. He moved to Eric with preternatural speed. The fingers of one hand tangling in the young man's hair to pull back Eric's head, exposing his neck. Bastian's free arm circled Eric's waist, pulling him back against him. Eyes glittering blood red, Bastian bent his head and touched his fangs to Eric's throat. The third kiss. He heard Eric's scream as fangs punctured flesh and Bastian wanted to laugh in delight as he sipped from the sweet blood. In this moment, Eric was now his son. Flesh of his flesh, blood of his blood, soul of his soul...for all eternity.

Fifteen minutes after Mulder had made the call to the man called Colin--on Lily's orders--the man arrived at the church. He looked to be in his mid or late thirties with short white-blond hair, clad simply in jeans and a flannel shirt and carrying with him a black doctor's bag. "Where?" he asked simply of Mulder and Mulder took him back to where they'd put Falana, on the same bed that Eric had laid not that long ago. Falana had not roused once since they had found her and continued to bleed at a slow but nonetheless steady rate.

Taking up a chair beside Falana, Colin opened his bag and began to remove items with the quick methodical motions of long experience, raising his head to look at Mulder. "I'm going to need some hot water--could you heat it for me, please?"

Mulder parted lips, about to object to being sent away, but instead found himself giving Colin a curt nod, spinning on his heel to leave the room. With a pair of scissors, Colin carefully cut away the back of Falana's dress to expose the wound inflicted on her, Lily beside him. Albrecht moved to the other side of the bed, watching as Colin drew on disposable latex gloves before prodding the wound with his fingers.

"Stab wound," said Albrecht with certainity, having seen more than a few in his line of work. Over the years, he'd gotten to be a connoisseur of wounds--on crime scenes, some of the guys would lay down bets as to whether or not he could guess what instrument had inflicted mortal damage on a victim. Just another way to relieve the tension, to deal with the day-to-day horrors they witnessed...

"Yes," said Colin, not lifting his head from his examination. "But more than that. A spell has been laid here to bind her power, to hold her in a state near death...and yet not death."

"Can you...help her?" asked Albrecht, hunching his shoulders as he gazed down at Falana's beautiful, ashen features.

Colin flashed Albrecht a smile. "That's what I'm here for. It's not going to be a quick fix--she will be a very sick young woman...but she will survive. And her power will not be lost to her."

Mulder returned with a teapot of hot water and Colin thanked him, taking a handful of herbs to crush them and place them in a bowl, pouring water over them. "A poultice to draw out the poison--once that is done, she will awaken from this state. She will be days in recovering though..."

"What about my partner?" demanded Mulder. "And Father Salvadore..."

Colin looked to Lily, a frown furrowing his forehead, and she gave a firm shake of her head. "Temporary paralysis."

Colin nodded, relief evident in his green eyes. "All you can do then is make them comfortable. In a few hours sensation will begin to return to them--there should be no lasting effects."

Mulder didn't like at all the use of the words "should be" and was about to voice his unease...when he heard the sound of a phone ringing. Albrecht glanced around at the sound and found it to be emanating from his coat tossed over one chair...a coat that held his cell phone. Striding quickly over to it, he retrieved the phone and said into it, "Yeah, this is Albrecht."

"This is Sarah. I know where Eric is--you gotta come..."

"Sarah!" Gripping the phone tightly, Albrecht closed his eyes briefly, swallowing forcibly the impulse to berate Sarah for going off like she did, and managed to sound somewhat calm as he said, "Tell me where you are." Nodded as Sarah gave a street address, a frown creasing his forehead. "You're sure...okay, okay..." He lifted a hand to ward off the torrent of abuse and said, "Hang in there--we're on our way. Do not get close to the house--are you hearing me, Sarah?" A click was his only answer and the dial tone came on even as Albrecht stared at the phone in a mixture of outrage and unease.

"Eric?"

Shoving his phone back in his coat pocket, Albrecht nodded at Mulder's question and hurriedly donned his coat. "Hate like hell to leave them like this...but I think they're in good hands. And Eric most decidedly is not." Straightening the lapels of his coat, he said quietly to Mulder, "I'd understand if you want to stay."

Mulder shook his head firmly. "You're going to need help. And I think it's about time we took the fight to them...instead of waiting for them to come at us."

Lily sprang to her feet. "I'm coming too," she announced.

"You're needed here, to keep an eye out," said Albrecht. Bad enough that Sarah was in the middle of all this...he wasn't going to take another kid in...

"You may need her," said Colin, offering them a small smile as he straightened. "I can take care of things here."

"Yeah...right." muttered Albrecht skeptically but there was something steely in Colin's mild gaze that he found somewhat reassuring. And thought that maybe the other could handle it. He threw up his hands and said brusquely, "Okay...let's get going then. Lily... you stay close, got it? And when I tell you to get gone, you get gone."

Lily gave him a feral smile and flounced out of the room, Mulder trailing behind her. Shaking his head, Albrecht muttered, "I am getting too old for this shit..." And with a sigh, he followed them out of the church.

Releasing Eric and allowing the young man to slump to the floor, Bastian licked sweet blood from his lips, feeling giddy with the power that the final kiss had instilled in him. Laughed in sheer ecstacy and spread his arms to spin in a circle, the sensations of warmth and light intoxicating. He could feel himself changing, could feel his very nature altering, and the wild joy of it filled him to overflowing. Soon...soon he would be able to walk in the day...and Eric would be his companion throughout eternity, his child, once the final step was taken...and young Eric drank of his blood.

He turned to face Eric, a beatific smile curving his lips, and reached down for the young man...only to halt as the warmth in him banked higher and higher. The power he had stolen from Eric--the essence of his light--roused in him, driving back his own darkness with its purity, eradicating the darkness in him. Purging him--so strong, he couldn't resist it nor shut it out.

It burned--oh, how it burned! He tried to thrust it from him, to reject the power, but it had taken hold in him, spreading through him like wildfire. Bright and beautiful and pure and terrible--all that Eric had been in life...and was as well in death. An angel born of fury and pain, cast down onto earth to relieve itself of those terrible burdens...and to aid others.

Bastian screamed as he was immolated by the pure power of Eric's soul, head falling back to emit a wail of pain as flame burst from his clothing to consume him. Wailed and wailed as he fell to his knees, body spasming under the assault, finally--mercifully--going silent as with a sudden surge of light he ceased to exist...

Solange had run in terror the moment Bastian had appeared, leaving her father to deal with the vampire. She was not so foolish as to believe she could defeat the Dark Prince, so Solange had no idea that Bastian was dead.

Papalaja, on the other hand, had seen the vampire die and was thrilled. Now there was no competition for Eric's soul. He would claim it and be all powerful. Even as he stared at Bastian's remains, the light that was Eric's soul poured back into the young man, it surged and seemed to pulse. Papalaja was in awe. He made to glide forward to be a part of the light but a sudden presence halted him.

Constance smiled at Papalaja. She was a happy camper today. It had been genius on her part to simply step back and let the others take care of themselves, eliminating the competition as it were. And now that Bastian was dead, Constance knew there would be no one to stand in her way. She would lead the immortals now. The assassins. She would make them the perfect race. They would be the ones to rule the world and absorb its power. To become rich and indestructible. Who else could go to war for this country and come back alive after defeating the enemy? No one but her own kind. "Hello Papalaja," Constance whispered, offering a smile to the Vodun master in the moment before she put a bullet in his head.

Papalaja felt himself die. Felt the pain and the blackness cover him and then he was gone. Too soon and too late. Here it ended. His last thought was of Solange and of his other daughter, Ilea. She was the one he did not speak of, Papalaja's secret shame. The child that was part voodoo and part of the darkness of the night. Ilea was a vampire and the only one left who was strong enough to claim Eric Draven as her own. For Ilea was more than Vampire...she was a changeling and the only one of her kind who could still walk in the light.

Constance was unaware of Papalaja's last thoughts. Didn't care about the old man anyway. She knelt down beside Eric now, admiring his naked body, the smooth skin over hard, sculptured muscle. She sensed that he had never made love to another of his kind and Constance had every intention of teaching Eric what it could be like between them. She needed him to help her rule. With that thought in mind, Constance snapped her fingers and a giant walked into the room. He liked to be called Cesar and Constance indulged him. "Take Eric home, Cesar," Constance ordered, watching as the giant lifted Eric into his massive arms as if the young man were a small child. "I'll be home soon," Constance promised, waving Cesar away. When they were gone she set to work, dumping fragrant oil onto the floor of the temple and setting it aflame. When the fire was raging, Constance stood within it's burning glow for a moment, then she was gone.

Sarah watched the building go up in flames. She brushed away tears believing that Eric was dead now. That Albrecht had come too late to save him. Only in that moment she saw a man leave the building. A giant of a man carrying someone who looked like Eric. "YES!" Sarah shouted, then clamped a hand over her mouth. But no one heard her. It was obvious that the giant was going to take Eric away from her again and Sarah knew she couldn't let that happen. So Sarah did the only thing she could do, she slipped away and into the back of the van when the giant wasn't looking. Luckily there were boxes to hide behind and from Sarah's vantage point she could see Eric clearly. He was wrapped in a blanket and looked like death warmed over. But she sensed he was alive.

"Sorry, Albrecht," Sarah whispered, as she glanced out the back window and saw his car arrive. Too late. For the giant was driving off and taking Sarah and Eric to parts unknown.

Albrecht stared at the burning building in disbelief. "Sarah!" he shouted. "SARAH!" Yet he knew it was useless even before Mulder caught his arm and shook him. "Dammit!" Albrecht hissed, blinking back tears.

Lily patted his shoulder. "I don't think Sarah's dead," she announced, with a grin. "She's way too smart for that." Lily remembered being that young and precocious and was certain that Sarah was as much a survivor as she was. "I bet you Eric is alive as well, but I've got the feeling Papalaja isn't doing so good."

"Who do you think did this?" Mulder interjected. "Bastian?"

"No." Lily shook her head and frowned as she concentrated. "Bastian is dead," she stated bluntly. "I felt him die. It's something I do," Lily explained when Mulder and Albrecht both shot her funny looks.

Albrecht felt relief flood through him on one level, but then anxiety and fear reared their ugly heads. "So...where are Eric and Sarah?" he prompted, looking to Lily for answers since she seemed to be full of them. "Who has them now?" To Albrecht this scenario was becoming something out of the Perils of Pauline movies of old. Everytime they came close to rescuing Eric something, or someone, else intervened.

Lily shrugged. "I don't know who," she allowed, "but I bet Sarah is with him, which means she'll be contacting us soon. But...I think I know another way to find them."

"How?" Mulder challenged. He was ready to try anything at this point. He wanted to find and rescue Eric, then deal with his own problems. For Mulder knew that his and Scully's lives were still in danger. They still knew too much and Constance was out there somewhere, lurking. Mulder could almost feel her presence.

"I have a friend who's a psychic," Lily replied, grinning from ear to ear. She knew the two men wouldn't believe her and Albrecht didn't disappoint her by his reaction. Mulder, however, simply nodded. Lily sighed and continued, "His name is Travis and he's kind of a new age psychic," she explained. "He's a big fan of Eric Draven, had the hots for him something awful and he still wears black to mourn his passing. So Travis will be psyched to learn Eric is still alive...sort of."

Mulder frowned. "What do you mean Travis had the hots for Eric?" he prompted.

Lily shrugged again. "Just what it sounds like. Travis is gay and he loves Eric. So I know he'll be willing to help us. Of course Eric will have to repay him somehow..." Lily drawled, before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

"God save me from teenagers," Albrecht moaned. He grabbed Lily and hauled her back to the car. After the past few days and knowing Eric, Albrecht was willing to believe anything. "Where does Travis live?" Albrecht demanded, as he slid behind the wheel.

"660 Palmer Drive," Lily replied. "My guess is he'll be expecting us."

Mulder shivered at Lily's words. They were eerie and oppressive in some way. Of course, lack of sleep and nourishment probably added to his present state of being. But Mulder knew there was no rest for the weary. Not while Eric needed them. "Let's go," he stated, then he closed his eyes as Albrecht peeled off into the night.

At Lily's direction, Albrecht pulled into the driveway of a plain duplex painted in dull beige, parking the car beside a black Mercedes Benz. He and Mulder followed Lily up to the door and as she raised her hand to knock on the door, it opened to reveal a figure awaiting them. He was young--in his early twenties--and of average height, slim in build, his hair the glossy black one usually got only from a bottle and worn down to his shoulders, framing a handsome face that was just a touch too pretty. As Lily had said, he was dressed all in black--black leather trousers with a black silk shirt--and around his neck he wore a necklace with a crystal dangling from it.

Lily grinned at him. "Knew I was coming, didn't you?"

"The tea leaves said there was trouble on the way--I figured it would be you," replied the young man with a teasing smile and gave her a quick hug, one arm slipping around her shoulders as he turned to face her visitors, arching one eyebrow. "So...who are your friends?"

"What...the tea leaves didn't tell you?" Lily ducked the slap he aimed at the back of her head and pointed to the two men with her. "Detective Albrecht and Special Agent Mulder. We're here seeking your expertise."

"You bring me the most interesting people," said Travis, eying first Albrecht and then Mulder appreciatively. "Umm...very interesting."

"Down, boy," said Lily with a grin, giving Travis a push back towards the house. Waving for Mulder and Albrecht to follow her, she led the way into the house.

If the exterior was severly bland, then the interior was aggressively decorated. The walls of the living room were done in a soft seashell pink and the carpet the blue-green shade of a tropical sea. For furniture there was a futon and a papasan chair, a scattering of multi-colored cushions gathered around a low table, and an expensive-looking stereo was tucked into one corner of the room, playing something soft and Middle Eastern.

"Show them the room," said Lily, nudging Travis.

With a put-upon sigh, Travis did as she asked, leading them down the short hallway and to a closed door, opening it and allowing them to step inside as he turned on the light. Albrecht blinked in surprise as he glanced around the room, seeing images of Eric lovingly set in frames and decorating the walls, one set before an altar with a candle burning before it. Along with the pictures were playbills advertising the various appearances of his band and newspaper articles on them.

"His shrine to Eric Draven," said Lily.

"Umm...interesting," said Mulder, forcing a polite smile as he rubbed back of his neck. Shrine was a perfect way to put it...bordering on obsessive...

Travis folded his arms over his chest, looking defensive. "So tell me why I'm showing them this room."

"I've got big news for you, Travis. Eric's alive...in a way." Lily's eyes were dancing as she imparted the news, anticipating Travis' reaction.

Travis started to shake his head, anger showing in his eyes, but halted in mid-motion, eyes widening as he studied Lily, seeing that she wasn't putting him on. "How?" he breathed, stunned.

"Long story, Travis. The gist of it is that Eric's in trouble...and we need you to do your psychic thing so we can find him," said Lily briskly.

Travis stood still, expression still stunned, and then gave himself a shake. "Okay, okay...but you'd better not be playing a very elaborate joke on me, Lily. I know witches that can throw some very nasty and inventive hexes." Gesturing for the others to exit the room, he shut it carefully behind and went to grab a coat, calling back over his shoulder to them. "What I'm going to need is something personal of his...or barring that, to be in a place that he has spent a lot of time in."

"To his apartment we go!" said Lily breezily.

Albrecht exchanged glances with Mulder, surprised to find that the other man looked at least as skeptical as he felt, and heaved a sigh as he led the way out of the house. Days like this...he wished that he'd just let the whole Draven thing go instead of pursuing it so relentlessly...

"Wakey, wakey!"

The sound of a woman's sultry voice speaking softly in his ear and the accompanying slap to his cheek roused Eric from unconsciousness. Blinking to bring his vision into focus, he tried to lower upraised arms...only to have them come up short as cold metal bit into the soft flesh of his wrists. It took him a long moment to realize why he couldn't lower his arms and he lifted his eyes to take in the handcuffs that bound his wrists to the headboard. Lowered his eyes to see that he lay on a plain bed, a sheet drawn decorously up to his waist to cover his still naked form, and then turned his gaze to the figure that stood beside his bed.

Constance ran fingers across his cheek, smiling when he jerked his head back out of her reach, and caught a handful of his hair to hold his head still, tugging painfully hard. "Hello there, sleeping beauty. About time you returned to the land of the living...so to speak," she added with a laugh, releasing her hold on his hair to take a step back.

Slowly Eric took in his surroundings, seeing a room plain and bare, and at the door stood a giant of a man, bulging muscles revealed by the black leather vest he wore, bald head gleaming in the light, the neatly trimmed beard and mustache ginger colored, nose pierced with a gold hoop earring.

"Where...?"

"Your new home," said Constance with a grin.

Eric shook his head. "No..." The last he remembered was watching Bastian fall, consumed by the light that the vampire had wanted so very badly to absorb. But no more than that...

"Yes." Constance perched on the edge of the bed, reaching out to run a finger along Eric's skin, from collarbone down to navel, smiling as she felt his muscles clench under her touch. "I offed Papalaja for you...and you owe me. If it weren't for me...the old bastard would still have you under thrall."

"What do you want?" asked Eric wearily.

Constance smiled wickedly and threw a leg over him, settling down on him to rub against him suggestively as she leaned forward. "I want a lot of things..." she purred and ran her tongue along the line of his jaw, laughing as he jerked away from her. "You're good, Eric. For an amateur. You can accomplish great things with us--we can shape the world, control the world. Topple governments...and raise new regimes from their ashes. There's a place for you in our little group, Eric."

"Never!" hissed Eric, dark eyes flashing as he glared at Constance.

She shrugged and slid off the bed. "Well, I'll give you a little time to think about. And to consider...that Solange is still out there. She's not as powerful as her daddy...but she can probably keep you in line. Not to mention the fact that your friends are wandering around out there...and they are oh so vulnerable..." She let her words trail off, eyes bright with menace, and turned to go to the door, pausing there to glance back at him over her shoulder. "Ohhh...and the cuffs--they're reinforced with steel. Made especially to bind our kind. So don't hurt yourself trying."

And then she was out the door, it shutting with the heavy thud of a coffin lid closing.

Travis stood in the center of Eric Draven's apartment, staring at the broken circle of the window where he had been tossed to his death. A shudder ran through Travis as he remembered the newscast that had announced Eric's death, and the visual of the fall and the covered body on the pavement. Travis had mourned Eric's passing deeply, for he was in love with the young man. A spiritual love than ran deep. But there was a psychical attraction as well and it would help Travis to connect to the musician. So would touching Eric's guitar. Travis nodded at Lily to bring him the instrument and he took it from her reverently.

Immediately a myriad of images flashed in Travis' head. He saw Eric and Shelly laughing together in the moment before their lives would change forever. Saw the door burst open and the men who would kill Eric and Shelly enter the room. Travis felt Eric's fear for Shelly and he trembled at the strength of it. Eric had not been afraid to die, his only concern had been for Shelly. The bond between them was eternally strong, forged from the past and withstanding the test of the present and not the wait of the future.

"I see him!" Travis gasped, as a new image presented itself. As it formed, Travis described it to the others. "He's in a room, handcuffed to a bed. He's...weak and tired."

"Do you know where the room is?" Albrecht interjected. He was anxious to be doing something productive, like retrieving Eric from whoever had claimed him this time.

Travis shook his head. "I can't leave the room," he replied with a huff of frustration.

Lily touched his arm. "Can you contact Eric and let him know we're looking for him?" she asked her friend. "Maybe he can guide us to him."

"Great idea!" Travis enthused, for he had tried such a thing in the past with limited success. Only this time he was eager to be connected so Travis felt certain his attempt would succeed. Still gripping the guitar, Travis closed his eyes and let his senses drift. He focused on a mental image of Eric then sent out his thoughts, as if on a fine silken thread. Letting the thread spiral out into the darkness and the light.

Eric had been dozing. It bothered him that he was still in need of sleep. Bastian had not been able to change him into a vampire, but it was obvious that he had changed Eric, as had Solange and Papalaja. Whether or not the changes were permanen, Eric could only guess. He had willingly fallen into dark oblvion in search of peace, and in the hope that he would be able to connect with Shelly in his dreams. But she seemed to be lost to him again. Yet, someone was reaching out to Eric. A stranger. Someone making an attempt to contact his thoughts, but not to intrude as Solange had done.

**Who are you?** Eric sent back, silently, curiosity getting the better of him.

**A friend...** Travis replied, feeling almost giddy at the fact that he had reached his idol. **I'm with Albrecht and Mulder,** Travis explained. **I can see the room you're in, Eric... But I can't tell where you are. Can you guide me to you?**

Eric wanted to scream in frustration. **I don't know where I am,** he confessed. **Tell Albrecht that Constance has me.** Eric prayed that the information would help his friends to find him.

Travis could feel Eric's frustration and he wished he could do something to reassure the other man. **We'll find you, Eric,** Travis promised, even as he felt himself drifting away. He hissed as he opened his eyes to find the others staring at him expectantly. "I talked to Eric," Travis allowed. "But he doesn't know where he is and he tuned in..so he can't guide me to him. Not yet. But he wanted me to tell you that Constance has him." As he spoke, Travis locked eyes with Albrecht.

"Shit!" Albrecht exclaimed, exchanging glances with Mulder. "Any ideas?" he asked the FBI agent.

"Not yet," Mulder conceded, dropping to sit on the stairs that led to the window. "But we'll find a way to Eric!" he declared, determination glinting in his eyes. "I swear it!"

Constance smiled at Sarah. The little girl was trussed up in a chair and twisting against the rope that held her. She had courage and fire and Constance admired her for it. But the true reason that she smiled was that Sarah was her trump card. She would get what she wanted from Eric by using Sarah to blackmail him into submission. "Comfy?" Constance mocked, as she checked on Sarah's gag. It had been neccessary to silence the child for she had chattered on incessantly from the moment Constance had discovered her hiding place.

Sarah could only glare at Constance, but she did so with a vengeance. Silently wishing every curse and plague upon the woman that she could think of. It was only after Constance had drifted from the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Sarah in shadowy darkness, did the little girl allow the tears that burned in her eyes to fall. Tears of fear, but not for herself. For Eric.

Eric felt the sheet that covered him pulled away, cool air drifting over his naked body like a lover's caress. But the air was soon replaced by a stroking hand and Eric's eyes flew open. He was stunned to see a naked Constance looming over him. "What do you want?" Eric spat, although what she wanted was very obvious.

Constance merely laughed, then she let her fingers dance over Eric's ridged abdomen to the object of her desire. His thick and luscious manhood. "Shelly Webster was a lucky woman in life," Constance drawled.

"Bitch!" Eric hissed, flinching in spite of himself as Constance's skillfull fingers stroked him to hardness. His body was weak and would betray him. So Eric clung to the image of Shelly, imagining that it was her touch on his flesh.

"You will give me everything I want, Eric," Constance purred, as she straddled his body in preparation of joining them together.

Eric bucked his hips in an attempt to throw Constance from him. "I will give you nothing!" he spat, fury sparking from his dark eyes.

Constance reached for the remote she had brought with her and flicked a button. A TV screen at the foot of the bed lit up and the image of Sarah, tied and gag, appeared. "Think again," Constance countered, a smirk curling her lips. She saw Eric blanch and took advantage of his distraction to claim a kiss. But Constance ended it when Eric refused to respond.

"Let Sarah go!" he demanded, hate now glimmering in his eyes. Eric made a silent vow to himself to find a way to destroy Constance.

"Give me what I want and she's free," Constance replied. It was an easy lie for her to tell.

Eric knew there was no room for bargaining. Knew also that Constance was lying to him. She had no compassion. He had no choice but to obey her for now, for Sarah's sake. "I'll give you what you want," he whispered, pain and shame clouding his dark eyes.

Constance laughed with delight as she bent to claim a kiss once more. But in that moment she sensed a presence. Too late. In a heartbeat Constance found herself sailing across the room. Before she could rise she was bound by thick cords. Rendered helpless for the moment.

"What the hell..." Eric gasped, as a figure in black glided towards the bed. He saw that it was a beautiful woman and she smiled at him as she released him from the handcuffs. Ripping them open with her bare hands as if they had been made of paper. "Who are you?" Eric demanded, even as he slid off the bed, taking the sheet with him to wrap around his waist.

"My name is Ilea," the stranger replied. "I'm a friend, Eric. And what some would call a daywalker."

Eric shook his head, partly from confusion and partly from the dizziness that washed over him. "What does that mean?' he demanded, as he leaned one hand against the wall. "Daywalker?"

Ilea smiled again, admiring Eric's exotic beauty, then shaking her head to remind herself that they needed to stick to the business at hand. "I'm a creature born...not created..of a vampire and a mortal. I have their bloodlust, but I can walk in the light of day."

"Bastian's get?" Eric guessed, wishing that this was all just a bad dream and he would wake up to find himself at home. With Shelly.

"No!" Ilea hissed, her eyes glowing red for a moment. Then she calmed down. "I'll explain later, we need to leave now. Unless you want to stay with Constance?" Ilea made the offer tongue in cheek.

Eric grimaced. "I want to leave," he acknowledged, but then he gestured to the sheet wrapped around him and grimaced. "You wouldn't happen to have any spare clothing handy...would you?"

Ilea moved to the foot of the bed and scooped up the leather pants and tank top that Constance had discarded. They would be skin tight on Eric, but serve for now. He was a strong man, but lean and small boned. "Try these on for size," Ilea suggested, tossing them to Eric. She chuckled when he blushed as she made it a point to watch him dress. When Eric turned away before dropping the sheet, Ilea admired his tight buttocks. "Ready?" she asked, a moment later, as Eric pulled the black tank top over his head. He was pale but gorgeous, even dressed.

"No," Eric replied, turning back around to face Ilea. "I'm not going anywhere," he stated emphatically. "Not without Sarah." That said, Eric stalked from the room.

"Mortals..." Ilea sighed, then she ran to catch up with Eric.

With Ilea beside him, it took Eric only a few minutes to locate the room that Sarah was held in. The young girl had been bound to a chair and gagged but to Eric's anxious eyes she looked untouched. He stripped the gag from her mouth, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead and stroking hair back from her cheeks, wiping away the tears that trailed from her eyes.

"You okay?"

Sarah nodded, biting her lip to hold back the tears of relief at seeing Eric. She wasn't a little baby anymore...and she shouldn't be crying like one...but she was very glad to see him. "I was worried about you..." she whispered.

Eric ruffled her hair. "Worried about you too..." Untying her, he helped Sarah up out of the chair, taking her hand as he turned to face Ilea. "What about Constance?" he asked.

Ilea shook her head. "Concern yourself with her later. For now we must go." And turned on her heel to stride quickly out of the room.

Eric followed her, hesitating as he emerged into the hallway, his eyes flicking back in the direction where they had left Constance. She was far too dangerous to be allowed to roam free, she would have to be dealt with sooner or later--

A tug at his hand drew his eyes down to Sarah, trying to be brave but showing her fear all the same. Getting Sarah out of here was more important than his vendetta with Constance--he forced a smile and let her lead him after their rescuer.

They arrived at the church a short time later and Ilea climbed the steps to the church with them, pausing just short of the threshold. Eric turned to face her, placing his hand against the small of Sarah's back to urge her inside, lifting his head and squinting at the sun that peeked through the clouds. Looked down at the young woman that stood before him, unaffected by the weak rays of the sun, and studied her with a newborn suspicion. She had saved them, brought them back here...and still...a part of him found it hard to completely trust her.

"You can't come in without being invited," he stated.

Ilea smiled as she looked up at him, brushing a lock of dark hair from her forehead. "No," she admitted.

That was some small measure of comfort, he reflected with an inner bitter laugh. "It's not my place to invite you in. But I thank you for what you've done--for saving both of us."

"You're welcome," responded Ilea with a slight bow. "I think we'll be seeing each other again..."

She started to turn away, to go back down the steps, but Eric called after her, "Wait!" Ilea stopped at the bottom of the stairs, shading her eyes with one hand as she watched Eric come down the steps after her. He took a deep breath and asked, "How do I stop Constance? She can't die any more than I can."

"You destroyed one like you once," said Ilea softly. "There are some like you that come back not to serve right...but for their own dark purposes. Each of you has a spirit guide. Destroy that guide...and you make the body vulnerable. Find what creature Constance claims as guide...and destroy it. Then...she will die like any mortal man." And with a last smile, she left him to stand there on the stairs alone.

Once she had disappeared from sight, Eric trudged back up the steps to enter the church and reunite with his friends.

Joining Sarah in the vestibule, Eric led the way through the main hall of the church and up the aisle between the line of pews. Off to the right was where Father Salvadore had taken him--

"Stop."

Eric froze at the sound of a rough, weary voice and the ominous click of a gun, turning slowly to meet the eyes of the figure that knelt behind the cover of one pew...and relaxing at once as he recognized Scully. In the same moment she recognized him as well, slipping the safety back on her gun and holstering it as she wearily pulled herself to her feet.

"You okay?" he asked, extending his hand to help steady her once she had risen.

"Yes...just a little tired," admitted Scully grudgingly. It had been a frightening experience to lie there paralyzed, aware of what was going on around her...and yet unable to move. It had seemed an eternity before sensation had returned to her, slow and agonizing, with the prickly rush associated with the restored flow of blood to her limbs. "How did you--?"

"I'll explain later," said Eric as she led the way to where the others were. Father Salvadore sat on a chair, head lifting at the sound of their footsteps, and pushed himself out of his chair to go to Eric, smiling widely as he took the younger man's hands.

"Eric! We were so worried--you are well?" he asked anxiously, squeezing Eric's hands as his eyes swept over the young man's slim form.

"Yes, Father, thank you." Eric disentangled his hands from the priest's, patting him on the shoulder, and his eyes were drawn to the stranger that sat beside a bed. But a moment later he saw the woman that lay there and he moved closer, gazing down at her with a frown. She seemed familiar somehow...but he couldn't quite...remember...

"This is Falana." Eric turned his head at the sound of Father Salvadore's voice as the priest came up beside him, laying a hand on Eric's shoulder. "She was attempting to help you break the hold Papalaja had on you. One of his soldiers...injured her when they took you from here."

"I...remember..." whispered Eric. Remembered her vaguely, singing the song that had helped him to shield himself from Papalaja's influence, to connect again with Shelly... "Is she...?" He couldn't make himself finish the sentence as he looked anxiously to the stranger that sat across the bed from him.

The man smiled faintly. "She'll be about a week recovering...but she'll be fine." He rose from his chair to stretch an arm across the bed. "I'm Colin."

"Eric." Eric shook the man's hand automatically, looking down at Falana again, and then shifted his attention to Father Salvadore. "Where are Mulder and Albrecht?"

"They went looking for you," said Colin. "Along with Lily. And her psychic friend, I gather..." he added, eyes twinkling.

Eric gave a little shake of his head to clear it. So much had been happening...all while he was either unconscious or prisoner...but there was still one thing to cling to. Mulder was still in danger...because it wasn't Papalaja or even Solange that wanted him dead. It was Constance's circle of assassins...who answered to another master all together, he was sure.

"We need to find them...and relocate," he said firmly. Didn't know where...but enough people already knew where they were.

Scully nodded and reached into her coat pocket for her cell phone. Dialed Mulder's cell phone and stood there, listening to it ring...and ring and ring...

Eric sensed that something was wrong. He remembered the voice that had reached out to him before. The stranger. Closing his eyes, Eric attempted to tap into the thread of the young man's subconsciousness and just when he felt doomed to failure, Eric felt a tickle in his mind. A response. No voice this time, just images. Mulder, Albrecht, a young girl and the stranger. They were in a room, dark and dank, chained to a wall. Eric could feel that there was something wrong with them. Not...hurt...per se, but. Then it hit him. They were drugged. **Where are you?** Eric sent out.

Travis heard Eric and tried to respond with words, but the drug in his system was too strong. So he used images, flinging them at Eric before he drifted away.

Scully watched as Eric's body suddenly convulsed and he fell to his knees. She ran to his side, cradling him against her as shook spasmodically. "Eric!" she hissed.

"Leave him...be," Falana whispered from the bed. "He is...in...contact with...someone." She had awakened upon feeling Eric's presence close by. Now she could almost tap into the thread of his mind. Almost. She knew he was being bombarded by the mind and soul of another. But it was a good soul this time.

"I hope you're right!" Scully whispered, holding on to Eric with all her strength. But she fell silent otherwise and waited.

The images hit Eric fast and furious. First he saw faces of men and then the faces formed into bodies. Three men who glided out of the darkness to attack Mulder and the others. They were immortals. Eric could feel it. His own kind, but filled with black hearts and dark souls. His kind, but not like him. Then came the images of the place where Eric's friends were being held. It was a mansion on a hill, an unfamiliar place to Eric, but the stranger sent him the directions, burning them into Eric's brain. It was a sensory overload, however, and Eric cried out before slipping into darkness.

Scully felt him slump in her embrace. "Dammit!" she hissed, carefully laying Eric down so that she could examine him. She was relieved when Colin joined her, for she felt that the man was better qualified to handle someone like Eric. "He's been through a lot of changes in the past few days," Scully stated for the record.

"I can see that," Colin replied, not explaining that Eric was the second Immortal he had examined. The first had been his sister, Rochelle. But Rochelle was dead now, having made the choice to cross over once her deeds were done. The portal had opened for her and she had passed on her way. A quick check of Eric and Colin realized that the young man was different in many ways. That what had happened to him, being bitten by Bastian and his battle with Papalaja had changed Eric. He was still immortal, yet his body had changed. He was more...human...than he had been before. He still would not die, and he would heal when injured, but his heart beat in his chest once more, and his skin was warm. He could be hurt and become ill now, and that would be his weakness. "He needs to rest," Colin stated, matter of factly, as he moved to lift Eric into his arms.

"How much more can he take?" Father Salvadore wondered aloud, as he helped Colin settle Eric into the cot next to Falana's bed.

Eric stirred in time to hear Father Salvadore's words. "I'm...immortal," he hissed, teeth clenched against the pain that flooded his body. His visions often left him shaken in the past, but they had never affected him like this before. "I know...where they are," Eric stated, attempting to rise from the bed but falling back when Colin pressed him down.

Scully was at Eric's side in an instant. "Mulder?" she queried, holding the young man's dark gaze.

"Yes," Eric stated, forcing himself to breath through new ripples of pain. He was starting to feel fear again, but in that moment he felt the touch of a soft hand in his mind. Shelly. Knowing that she was watching over him gave Eric renewed strength, and determination. "Some guy...the psychic...he showed me where they are," Eric announced. "Constance's people...the immortals like me...they took them."

"Where?" Scully beseeched.

Eric closed his eyes and remembered. "Clifton Manor," he replied. "About two hours from here. We need to hurry."

Colin pressed Eric back onto the mattress, exchanging looks with Father Salvadore for the other man to hold Eric while Colin administered a shot. "You need to rest for a bit," Colin said, his voice soft and soothing as he slid the needle into Eric's vein.

"What are you doing?" Eric protested, too late. Whatever the drug was, it took immediate effect. Eric drifted into hazy darkness.

"You!" Falana hissed suddenly, raising a shaking arm and pointing a finger at Colin. "How could I have been such a fool?"

Colin laughed. "I've waited a long time for Eric," he drawled. "For my...brother...as it were. For us to be together."

Father Salvadore and Scully exchanged confused looks. "What is going on here?" Father Salvadore demanded.

"Don't be a fool," Colin replied, pulling a gun out and training it on Father Salvadore and Scully. He motioned for Sarah to join the little group as well, then herded them all into a nearby closet, locking them in. "I work for a power that is far greater than you...God...!" Colin shouted through the closed door. "And Eric belongs to us now. We don't want to kill you, we just want what is ours." Having said his piece, Colin moved to Eric's cot, lifting the young man into his arms.

"I trusted you," Falana whispered, tears filling her eyes. She felt like a fool.

Colin felt a twinge of regret. "Your instincts are good, Falana," he purred. "You were looking for evil, and I'm not evil. I'm something...different. Something in between. Not the light or the dark...but the gray. The balance."

Falana thought she understood, just a little. There were forces that kept the balance, but they were unknown to her. "What will happen to Eric?" she asked, even as weakness dragged her back towards dark oblivion.

"He will learn to walk in the shadows," Colin whispered. And then he was gone.

The man was in his mid-sixties, possessed of a thick mane of white hair that refused to be fully tamed, and wire-rimmed glasses perched atop the long nose, combining with the neat beard and ruddy cheeks to give him a grandfatherly appearance. To further the image, he wore a sweater over a beige turtleneck and dark trousers, his feet clad in dark brown penny loafers. He held in his hands a pipe and was meticulously filling it with tobacco, seemingly focused completely on his task.

"You were supposed to kill this Mulder. Not bring him here." His voice held the rich Southern drawl that brought memories of magnificient plantations and the heavy heat of a lazy summer afternoon.

Constance waved at the man beside her that would have spoke, silencing him, and took a step towards the desk. "You want Eric Draven. Eric Draven is as loyal as a puppy dog...and he'll come running to help his friends."

Lighting his pipe, the old man puffed contentedly on it and lifted bright blue eyes to Constance, smoke curling up from the bowl of the pipe. "Thought you had Eric Draven," he said mildly but with a hint of steel in his eyes and voice.

Constance flushed, averting her eyes as she crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "There were...complications. He had help!" she added with a snarl, head jerking up to glare at the old man. He stared at her levelly, puffing on his pipe, and Constance's anger vanished, her expression sullen now. "The others can be useful," she muttered.

The old man sighed as he leaned back in his chair. There was so much potential in the young woman...but often times it was wasted. Quite obviously the dead had failed to transcend all the pettiness they had carried in their lives... "Then get what use you can out of them...and dispose of them." No matter what his colleagues thought, he would not allow Mulder to probe any farther into his own project...and besides...if a body never turned up, then there wasn't a crime, was there? After killing a Federal agent--no matter how disgraced he might be, he was still one--killing a cop was inconsequential...and Detective Albrecht was no more in favor with his superiors than Mulder. The other two...just civilians...easy to sweep under the carpet...

Constance nodded curtly and spun on her heel to exit from the room, her mind already busily thinking of what she would do to Mulder. A cruel smile curved her lips as she contemplated that...

With Father Salvadore's help, it took Scully precious minutes to force the closet door open and as it flew open under the force of a last kick, she ran out, past Falana still sprawled on the cot, and out into the main hall of the church, heading for the front doors. Father Salvadore remained with Falana, taking her hand in his and running his eyes anxiously over her as Sarah bounced on the heels of her feet, torn between the impulse to stay and to follow Scully.

A few minutes later Scully returned, breathing a little hard from her exertions, and impatiently swept a lock of red hair from her eyes. "Gone," she reported flatly as she went to retrieve her coat and gun, hurriedly donning her coat.

"And where are you going?" asked Father Salvadore worriedly, turning his attention from Falana to Scully.

Straightening the lapels of her coat, Scully checked her gun for ammunition and slapped the clip back in, reaching behind her to tuck the gun into the small of her back. "I'm going for Mulder."

"Alone? Is that wise?" Father Salvadore could have struck his forehead for that foolish statement--no, of course, it wasn't wise...but she would do so all the same...for her friend and partner. Just as Mulder would for her...

"I'll go!" piped up Sarah bravely.

Scully shook her head. "You're staying with Father Salvadore--it's not open to discussion," she added at seeing the young girl's mulish expression. "Where I'm going is too dangerous. And no, Father, I'm not going alone--I'm going to comandeer some agents to take with me. Mulder is still a Federal agent...and I will have assistance in rescuing him from his abductors."

"God go with you, my child," said Father Salvadore quietly, making the sign of the cross.

"Thank you, Father," said Scully with a grateful nod and knelt before Sarah, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Mulder first...and then Eric. I promise. But you have to stay here...and help Father Salvadore. Okay?"

"Okay..." muttered Sarah, scuffing the toe of her shoe on the floor.

Scully gave her a brief hug and then straightened to stride determinedly out of the room, hand dipping into her coat pocket to remove her cell phone and dialing the number of the local Bureau office before she had even exited the church.

Eric struggled his way up out of unconsciousness, swimming up out of the inky darkness of oblivion, and opened bleary eyes to look around him, blinking to clear his vision. A small room, like a cell, almost, the walls made of stone and bare save for the crucifix that adorned one wall--a wooden door barred the single exit, looking sturdy and formidable. A dark shape detached itself from one wall to approach him and Eric tried reflexively to sit up...only to fall back onto the bed, unable to rise for the thick leather strap drawn across his chest.

Rolling his head from side to side, he saw that both wrists were restrained by thick cuffs lined with cotton, ankles restrained as well. He jerked as a hand laid on one arm and glared at the man that stood beside him, the same man from the church that had injected him. As quickly as the anger came, it dissipated, replaced by a fear. Drugged... but he shouldn't have been. He wasn't affected by drugs...at least, he never had been before...

"What...what have you done to me?" he managed to say past a thick tongue.

"Nothing," said Colin, reaching out to stroke Eric's hair soothingly, the young man still too weak to resist his touch. "Other than to help you rest...to prepare for the task that lies before you."

"My...friends...they need me--" Even through the fog that clouded his mind, he could remember the flashing images from the stranger and that his friends were in danger. Mulder--Albrecht--others he didn't know...but had risked their lives for him all the same--he tried to rise from the bed again, straining against his bounds, and Colin pressed him back down, reaching into a pocket of his coat for a small case.

"You need to rest yet, Eric," said Colin placatingly, withdrawing a needle from the case and filling it.

"Noo..." Eric struggled to get free of the restraints but he was weak yet...and the bonds too strong. Colin gripped one arm to slide the needle into his vein, depressing the plunger and withdrawing the needle to watch as Eric's struggles slowed, his eyelids fluttering closed as his head lolled on the pillow.

"We have great plans for you, Eric..." said Colin, stroking the young man's hair again and then departing from the room.

Eric pulled himself back to consciousness once more, but the effort nearly exhausted him. To his relief he discovered that he was no longer bound to the bed, so he forced his lax muscles to obey him and rolled off the bed. Only to discover that his rubbery legs wouldn't hold him. With a cry of frustration, Eric collapsed to the floor.

Colin entered the room in time to see Eric go down. He had been watching the young man on monitors from the room next door. Kneeling beside Eric, he smiled as he lifted the other man into his arms and returned him to the bed. Colin's smile widened when he saw the mulish expression on Eric's beautiful face. "Yes...part of your weakness is the drugs," Colin allowed, answering the unspoken question between them.

"Why?" Eric demanded, as he rubbed at his thighs, fingers digging into what felt like useless flesh. "What do you want from me?"

"Your help," Colin replied, with innate honesty. He sat down by the bed, straddling a straightback chair. "I'm something like you, Eric," Colin explained. "We're all...different. Some of us stronger than others. Some good, some evil. You've met the evil."

Eric nodded, he could not deny that. But then he smirked. "I suppose you're the...good?" he drawled, sarcasm oozing from every pore.

Colin shrugged. "I try," he allowed, then he sighed. "You know about Constance's band of immortal assassins, Eric. You also know her power. They have to be stopped, and it's up to us to do it."

"Says who?" Eric challenged, grimacing a bit as a tingling pain flooded his legs. In a few minutes he would attempt to walk again and this time he would head straight out the door.

"Give me a chance to explain," Colin beseeched, correctly reading Eric's thoughts. The young man's eyes were mirrors to his soul. To the light that burned bright and glowing. He was the one they had been waiting for. The one who could shield the light from the darkness, the buffer who would walk in the shadows and protect the innocent while keeping peace between their own kind. That was why Eric had been sent back. Not to avenge his and Shelly's deaths, but to keep the peace. "If you don't like what you here," Colin continued, "you're free to go."

Eric considered Colin's proposal, then nodded. He needed more time to build up his strength anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to listen. "Talk to me," he prompted. "But you'd better make it good."

Colin took a deep breath then plunged in to his tale. He told Eric as much as he knew about their kind, which was a fair amount of information, and he could almost see Eric absorbing it all in. The young man had been thirsting for understanding. "Just like with mortals, Eric," Colin explained, "we have good and evil inside us. Light and dark. When I became...what we are...I was taught that there would be one who would walk in the shadows and be the guide as well as the shield."

"I'm not sure I understand what that means," Eric confessed.

"It means that you can lead our kind, Eric. Show us the way to do what's right," Colin ventured. "We were brought back to put to right all the wrongs in this world. Sometimes it's easy to understand what needs to be done, but sometimes...we cross the line."

Eric shook his head as he slid off the bed and tested his legs. This time they held him. "And you think that I know where to draw that line?" he challenged, dark eyes flashing. "I don't have a clue."

Colin went to Eric, one hand reaching out to squeeze the other man's shoulder. "You've got what it takes inside," he whispered, his free hand patting Eric's chest, over his heart. "Trust your instincts, and your power. It will see you through, Eric."

"I don't know about this, man," Eric replied, his fingers combing through his tangled hair. "All I wanted to do was get even with the guys that killed Shelly and me. But that wasn't enough to send me back to her. And now...I don't know what I'm supposed to do here."

"I think you do know," Colin countered, a smile of understanding curving his lips. "Will you lead us?"

Eric heaved a sigh. Uppermost in his mind was helping Mulder. "I need to think about it," he replied. "A friend needs my help...Mulder. When he's safe, then we'll talk. Deal?"

Colin shook the hand that Eric offered him. "Deal," he echoed. "Come on, a hot shower and a change of clothes will help you knock off the aftereffects of the drug I gave you. Then you can be on your way."

"Thanks," Eric replied, letting himself be led from the room. A few minutes later he stood beneath a hot spray of water, letting it wash away the tension and the lethargy that seemed to be a part of him these days. He washed his hair, then soaped his body, letting the needle like spray rinse him clean. Eric was just stepping out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, when the vision hit him. Mulder...in pain. A pain that Eric could feel.

"Dammit!" Eric hissed, dropping the towel and reaching for the clothes that Colin had left out for him, dragging jeans and a t-shirt over wet skin and combing his wet hair back into a slick ponytail. After stamping his feet into boots, Eric grabbed the leather jacket from the bed and ran out. Instinct guided him into the night, and a motorcycle was waiting at the curb. A heartbeat later, Eric roared off into the night.

It had taken Scully precious time--too much of it--to deal with Special Agent Wheeler, who hadn't believed her tale of a covert group of assassins holding Mulder and three others hostage. He'd sat there with his smug expression, giving her that condescending look she had seen others deal to Mulder far too often...and in the end she'd stalked out of his office, intending to leave the bureau office empty-handed. But in the end she'd managed to bring out two agents--Hargrove and Pruett--that had been working on the case and were willing to assist her in retrieving Mulder.

Given that for all she knew Mulder might already be dead--or nearly so--Scully could brook no more delays and they headed out to Crofton Manor with only the barest of plans...and no search warrant. Either she would come out of there with Mulder and the other three...or she'd come out empty handed and up on charges of illegal search and entry. With lives at stake, she found herself determined to ignore protocol and to accept complete responsibility for the actions of herself and the two agents.

From its name she was expecting Crofton Manor to be an elegantly made fortress...but the road they took was not barred by even so much as a security gate, leading up to the manor itself, a faded Victorian of bygone days. They'd left the car at the road, concealed behind thick brush, and made their way on foot up the driveway, pausing as they saw the house.

"How do you want to do this?" asked Hargrove, a veteran agent of eighteen years, stolid and competent.

Scully shot him a look, surprised that he would defer to her, but both he and Pruett were watching her expectantly, looking to her to take the lead. Going in the front door would be proper procedure...but while she was engaged with the owner of the house, his people could be disposing of the very ones she'd come to rescue.

"Through the back," she said firmly and gestured for them to follow as she set off. There was enough trees and brush to cover their approach up until the last hundred feet, where they would be open to view. With Hargrove and Pruett at her heels, Scully dashed across the open space, head down and shoulders tensing in expectation of bullets fired on them...but they made it to the house unscathed.

Slipping around the side of the house, they made their way to a back door and with a rueful grin, Pruett set to picking the lock, waving Scully and Hargrove in once he had it open. They slipped through the kitchen, finding a door near the pantry that led down to a basement, and Pruett got that door open as well, the three of them hurrying down the stairs.

And no sign of guards, an odd thing--if this place was what she thought it was...there should be someone here--

A shot rang out and Hargrove staggered, hand to his shoulder, bringing up his gun to aim in the direction of the shots...only to go down under another two bullets. Dropping to her knees, Scully aimed at the figure that emerged from a short hallway and sent it down with three bullets in its chest. Turning her head to look for Pruett, she found him kneeling beside Hargrove to check him, shaking his head at Scully as she met his eyes, his own grim.

Mouth set in a thin line, Scully rose and went to where the man she'd shot lay, watching him for several long seconds, gun ready to dispense another bullet should he so much as twitch. Even after all that happened, she was not entirely convinced about the possibility of immortal assassins...but she would take no chances here.

But the man did not move...and she knelt beside the body to do a quick search. A ring of keys were tucked into one pocket and she extracted them, rising to her feet to stride quickly down the hallway, heading for the door at the end of it. Three tries and she found the right key, the door opening under her hand and Pruett moving to cover her as it swung open.

A quick visual sweep of the room showed only four occupants, all chained to the wall, primary among them the slumped figure of Mulder. Scully strode quickly forward, focused on Mulder as she went through her keys, not seeing the door to the left open...

"Scully!"

At the call from Albrecht, Scully turned in time to see a white-jacketed form emerge from the door to her left, gun in hand. Pruett fired at the man and he jerked under the impact of the bullet, turning to aim at Pruett and send him down as well. As Scully hurriedly threw herself to the side, a bullet struck the wall just inches from Mulder's head, the man shifting his aim to the prisoners, with the intent of killing them all. Rolling Scully fired without taking the time to aim, looking to disrupt the other's focus rather than hit him, and it did the trick, drawing his attention to her.

And a moment later a dark figure streaked past her to tackle the man, bearing him down to the ground. Rising to his feet, the lapels of the man's jacket clenched by his fingers, Eric threw him into the wall and the man slide down it to collapse in a limp heap. Even as Scully got to her feet, Eric was kneeling by the man to take his gun. Scully took the time to check Pruett--dead too, damn it all--and then went to Mulder to release him from his bonds, slipping an arm around his waist to catch him as he slumped. Eric was immediately beside her to help support Mulder's limp weight and Scully freed a hand to lift his head, seeing that he was pale...but otherwise alive.

"Let the others loose," said Eric, taking on Mulder's weight, and Scully nodded, moving to release the other three from their bonds. Though he leaned heavily against the wall for support, Albrecht was able to stay on his feet, waving Scully away when she touched him on the arm in concern. Released, Lily slid to the floor and laid there, still groggy from the drugs she'd been given, and Travis collapsed as well, muttering something unintelligible.

"I'll get Mulder," said Eric, slinging Mulder easily over one shoulder. "There's no one else in the house--that I can...sense."

Scully raised an eyebrow at that firm statement but let it go. Time later to ponder that...and how he knew--

"I think I can get Lily...if you can get Travis..." said Albrecht, making an effort to stand on his own, weaving a little but his eyes looking clearer.

Scully nodded and went to lift Travis to his feet, grunting as she took his weight on her shoulders and manuvering him carefully out of the room, trusting to Eric to lead them to safety.

At Albrecht's direction, they went to a house owned by a friend of his, currently out of town. A spare key was placed in a flower pot, just as Albrecht predicted, and let them into a spacious condo. Under Scully's direction, Eric deposited Mulder on a bed and returned to the car to retrieve Scully's bag, going to check on Lily and Travis to find them relatively unhurt, save for the drug that was still fogging their senses, as Scully tended Mulder.

Albrecht sat in a chair, bleary-eyed but aware, and Eric went to join him, clapping him on the shoulder. Albrech raised his head wearily to look up at his friend and managed a smile. "Was beginning to wonder if I'd see you again, man," he said with a small chuckle.

"Me, too," replied Eric softly, clasping Albrecht's hand briefly.

Scully emerged from the bedroom, brushing stray strands of red hair from her eyes as she let loose a sigh. "Lily and Travis are fine--the drugs they were given should wear off in a few hours. Mulder has some minor injuries but there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage...that I can see, at least." Her expression went grim as she thought of the fallen agents. "I need to call the Bureau, send them in to check the house--"

Eric shook his head. "You won't find anything. They've cleared out...before we even arrived. The last order of business was to clean up...which we managed to disrupt." He'd done a quick check of the house, finding an office that had yielded him some informative visions. Constance confronting an old man there, her mentor...of sorts--the old man giving the order to wrap things up...

Albrecht heaved a sigh, rubbing his forehead wearily. "So we're back where we started from--they're still out there...only now we've pissed them off. And they'll be coming back."

"After they regroup," agreed Scully. "For them...maintaining their invisibility is integral. And killing two Federal agents garners a great deal of attention. It will take time...but, yes, they will be back."

"Not if I can help it," said Eric quietly, drawing their curious gaze...but he was staring off into space, thinking of Colin's words and how he could lead the fight. Good against evil...maintaining the balance. He was changed now...his chance to be with Shelly lost...and now all he could do was make the most of his existence here...

And he would start with seeing to it that ones like Constance were driven back to the hell they belonged in...

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