The characters in this fanfic belong to their respective creators--the Xfiles 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.

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.

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