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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Strip him," she ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Father Salvadore suffered the same fate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mulder sighed. "When is it ever?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Daughter."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eric?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"His shrine to Eric Draven," said Lily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wakey, wakey!"

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

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

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

"Where...?"

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

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

"Yes." Constance perched on the edge of the bed, reaching out to run a finger along Eric's skin, from collarbone down to navel, smiling as she felt his muscles clench under her touch. "I offed Papalaja for you...and you owe me. If it weren't for me...the old bastard would still have you under thrall."

"What do you want?" asked Eric wearily.

Constance smiled wickedly and threw a leg over him, settling down on him to rub against him suggestively as she leaned forward. "I want a lot of things..." she purred and ran her tongue along the line of his jaw, laughing as he jerked away from her. "You're good, Eric. For an amateur. You can accomplish great things with us--we can shape the world, control the world. Topple governments...and raise new regimes from their ashes. There's a place for you in our little group, Eric."

"Never!" hissed Eric, dark eyes flashing as he glared at Constance.

She shrugged and slid off the bed. "Well, I'll give you a little time to think about. And to consider...that Solange is still out there. She's not as powerful as her daddy...but she can probably keep you in line. Not to mention the fact that your friends are wandering around out there...and they are oh so vulnerable..." She let her words trail off, eyes bright with menace, and turned to go to the door, pausing there to glance back at him over her shoulder. "Ohhh...and the cuffs--they're reinforced with steel. Made especially to bind our kind. So don't hurt yourself trying."

And then she was out the door, it shutting with the heavy thud of a coffin lid closing.

Travis stood in the center of Eric Draven's apartment, staring at the broken circle of the window where he had been tossed to his death. A shudder ran through Travis as he remembered the newscast that had announced Eric's death, and the visual of the fall and the covered body on the pavement. Travis had mourned Eric's passing deeply, for he was in love with the young man. A spiritual love than ran deep. But there was a psychical attraction as well and it would help Travis to connect to the musician. So would touching Eric's guitar. Travis nodded at Lily to bring him the instrument and he took it from her reverently.

Immediately a myriad of images flashed in Travis' head. He saw Eric and Shelly laughing together in the moment before their lives would change forever. Saw the door burst open and the men who would kill Eric and Shelly enter the room. Travis felt Eric's fear for Shelly and he trembled at the strength of it. Eric had not been afraid to die, his only concern had been for Shelly. The bond between them was eternally strong, forged from the past and withstanding the test of the present and not the wait of the future.

"I see him!" Travis gasped, as a new image presented itself. As it formed, Travis described it to the others. "He's in a room, handcuffed to a bed. He's...weak and tired."

"Do you know where the room is?" Albrecht interjected. He was anxious to be doing something productive, like retrieving Eric from whoever had claimed him this time.

Travis shook his head. "I can't leave the room," he replied with a huff of frustration.

Lily touched his arm. "Can you contact Eric and let him know we're looking for him?" she asked her friend. "Maybe he can guide us to him."

"Great idea!" Travis enthused, for he had tried such a thing in the past with limited success. Only this time he was eager to be connected so Travis felt certain his attempt would succeed. Still gripping the guitar, Travis closed his eyes and let his senses drift. He focused on a mental image of Eric then sent out his thoughts, as if on a fine silken thread. Letting the thread spiral out into the darkness and the light.

Eric had been dozing. It bothered him that he was still in need of sleep. Bastian had not been able to change him into a vampire, but it was obvious that he had changed Eric, as had Solange and Papalaja. Whether or not the changes were permanen, Eric could only guess. He had willingly fallen into dark oblvion in search of peace, and in the hope that he would be able to connect with Shelly in his dreams. But she seemed to be lost to him again. Yet, someone was reaching out to Eric. A stranger. Someone making an attempt to contact his thoughts, but not to intrude as Solange had done.

**Who are you?** Eric sent back, silently, curiosity getting the better of him.

**A friend...** Travis replied, feeling almost giddy at the fact that he had reached his idol. **I'm with Albrecht and Mulder,** Travis explained. **I can see the room you're in, Eric... But I can't tell where you are. Can you guide me to you?**

Eric wanted to scream in frustration. **I don't know where I am,** he confessed. **Tell Albrecht that Constance has me.** Eric prayed that the information would help his friends to find him.

Travis could feel Eric's frustration and he wished he could do something to reassure the other man. **We'll find you, Eric,** Travis promised, even as he felt himself drifting away. He hissed as he opened his eyes to find the others staring at him expectantly. "I talked to Eric," Travis allowed. "But he doesn't know where he is and he tuned in..so he can't guide me to him. Not yet. But he wanted me to tell you that Constance has him." As he spoke, Travis locked eyes with Albrecht.

"Shit!" Albrecht exclaimed, exchanging glances with Mulder. "Any ideas?" he asked the FBI agent.

"Not yet," Mulder conceded, dropping to sit on the stairs that led to the window. "But we'll find a way to Eric!" he declared, determination glinting in his eyes. "I swear it!"

Constance smiled at Sarah. The little girl was trussed up in a chair and twisting against the rope that held her. She had courage and fire and Constance admired her for it. But the true reason that she smiled was that Sarah was her trump card. She would get what she wanted from Eric by using Sarah to blackmail him into submission. "Comfy?" Constance mocked, as she checked on Sarah's gag. It had been neccessary to silence the child for she had chattered on incessantly from the moment Constance had discovered her hiding place.

Sarah could only glare at Constance, but she did so with a vengeance. Silently wishing every curse and plague upon the woman that she could think of. It was only after Constance had drifted from the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Sarah in shadowy darkness, did the little girl allow the tears that burned in her eyes to fall. Tears of fear, but not for herself. For Eric.

Eric felt the sheet that covered him pulled away, cool air drifting over his naked body like a lover's caress. But the air was soon replaced by a stroking hand and Eric's eyes flew open. He was stunned to see a naked Constance looming over him. "What do you want?" Eric spat, although what she wanted was very obvious.

Constance merely laughed, then she let her fingers dance over Eric's ridged abdomen to the object of her desire. His thick and luscious manhood. "Shelly Webster was a lucky woman in life," Constance drawled.

"Bitch!" Eric hissed, flinching in spite of himself as Constance's skillfull fingers stroked him to hardness. His body was weak and would betray him. So Eric clung to the image of Shelly, imagining that it was her touch on his flesh.

"You will give me everything I want, Eric," Constance purred, as she straddled his body in preparation of joining them together.

Eric bucked his hips in an attempt to throw Constance from him. "I will give you nothing!" he spat, fury sparking from his dark eyes.

Constance reached for the remote she had brought with her and flicked a button. A TV screen at the foot of the bed lit up and the image of Sarah, tied and gag, appeared. "Think again," Constance countered, a smirk curling her lips. She saw Eric blanch and took advantage of his distraction to claim a kiss. But Constance ended it when Eric refused to respond.

"Let Sarah go!" he demanded, hate now glimmering in his eyes. Eric made a silent vow to himself to find a way to destroy Constance.

"Give me what I want and she's free," Constance replied. It was an easy lie for her to tell.

Eric knew there was no room for bargaining. Knew also that Constance was lying to him. She had no compassion. He had no choice but to obey her for now, for Sarah's sake. "I'll give you what you want," he whispered, pain and shame clouding his dark eyes.

Constance laughed with delight as she bent to claim a kiss once more. But in that moment she sensed a presence. Too late. In a heartbeat Constance found herself sailing across the room. Before she could rise she was bound by thick cords. Rendered helpless for the moment.

"What the hell..." Eric gasped, as a figure in black glided towards the bed. He saw that it was a beautiful woman and she smiled at him as she released him from the handcuffs. Ripping them open with her bare hands as if they had been made of paper. "Who are you?" Eric demanded, even as he slid off the bed, taking the sheet with him to wrap around his waist.

"My name is Ilea," the stranger replied. "I'm a friend, Eric. And what some would call a daywalker."

Eric shook his head, partly from confusion and partly from the dizziness that washed over him. "What does that mean?' he demanded, as he leaned one hand against the wall. "Daywalker?"

Ilea smiled again, admiring Eric's exotic beauty, then shaking her head to remind herself that they needed to stick to the business at hand. "I'm a creature born...not created..of a vampire and a mortal. I have their bloodlust, but I can walk in the light of day."

"Bastian's get?" Eric guessed, wishing that this was all just a bad dream and he would wake up to find himself at home. With Shelly.

"No!" Ilea hissed, her eyes glowing red for a moment. Then she calmed down. "I'll explain later, we need to leave now. Unless you want to stay with Constance?" Ilea made the offer tongue in cheek.

Eric grimaced. "I want to leave," he acknowledged, but then he gestured to the sheet wrapped around him and grimaced. "You wouldn't happen to have any spare clothing handy...would you?"

Ilea moved to the foot of the bed and scooped up the leather pants and tank top that Constance had discarded. They would be skin tight on Eric, but serve for now. He was a strong man, but lean and small boned. "Try these on for size," Ilea suggested, tossing them to Eric. She chuckled when he blushed as she made it a point to watch him dress. When Eric turned away before dropping the sheet, Ilea admired his tight buttocks. "Ready?" she asked, a moment later, as Eric pulled the black tank top over his head. He was pale but gorgeous, even dressed.

"No," Eric replied, turning back around to face Ilea. "I'm not going anywhere," he stated emphatically. "Not without Sarah." That said, Eric stalked from the room.

"Mortals..." Ilea sighed, then she ran to catch up with Eric.

With Ilea beside him, it took Eric only a few minutes to locate the room that Sarah was held in. The young girl had been bound to a chair and gagged but to Eric's anxious eyes she looked untouched. He stripped the gag from her mouth, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead and stroking hair back from her cheeks, wiping away the tears that trailed from her eyes.

"You okay?"

Sarah nodded, biting her lip to hold back the tears of relief at seeing Eric. She wasn't a little baby anymore...and she shouldn't be crying like one...but she was very glad to see him. "I was worried about you..." she whispered.

Eric ruffled her hair. "Worried about you too..." Untying her, he helped Sarah up out of the chair, taking her hand as he turned to face Ilea. "What about Constance?" he asked.

Ilea shook her head. "Concern yourself with her later. For now we must go." And turned on her heel to stride quickly out of the room.

Eric followed her, hesitating as he emerged into the hallway, his eyes flicking back in the direction where they had left Constance. She was far too dangerous to be allowed to roam free, she would have to be dealt with sooner or later--

A tug at his hand drew his eyes down to Sarah, trying to be brave but showing her fear all the same. Getting Sarah out of here was more important than his vendetta with Constance--he forced a smile and let her lead him after their rescuer.

They arrived at the church a short time later and Ilea climbed the steps to the church with them, pausing just short of the threshold. Eric turned to face her, placing his hand against the small of Sarah's back to urge her inside, lifting his head and squinting at the sun that peeked through the clouds. Looked down at the young woman that stood before him, unaffected by the weak rays of the sun, and studied her with a newborn suspicion. She had saved them, brought them back here...and still...a part of him found it hard to completely trust her.

"You can't come in without being invited," he stated.

Ilea smiled as she looked up at him, brushing a lock of dark hair from her forehead. "No," she admitted.

That was some small measure of comfort, he reflected with an inner bitter laugh. "It's not my place to invite you in. But I thank you for what you've done--for saving both of us."

"You're welcome," responded Ilea with a slight bow. "I think we'll be seeing each other again..."

She started to turn away, to go back down the steps, but Eric called after her, "Wait!" Ilea stopped at the bottom of the stairs, shading her eyes with one hand as she watched Eric come down the steps after her. He took a deep breath and asked, "How do I stop Constance? She can't die any more than I can."

"You destroyed one like you once," said Ilea softly. "There are some like you that come back not to serve right...but for their own dark purposes. Each of you has a spirit guide. Destroy that guide...and you make the body vulnerable. Find what creature Constance claims as guide...and destroy it. Then...she will die like any mortal man." And with a last smile, she left him to stand there on the stairs alone.

Once she had disappeared from sight, Eric trudged back up the steps to enter the church and reunite with his friends.

Joining Sarah in the vestibule, Eric led the way through the main hall of the church and up the aisle between the line of pews. Off to the right was where Father Salvadore had taken him--

"Stop."

Eric froze at the sound of a rough, weary voice and the ominous click of a gun, turning slowly to meet the eyes of the figure that knelt behind the cover of one pew...and relaxing at once as he recognized Scully. In the same moment she recognized him as well, slipping the safety back on her gun and holstering it as she wearily pulled herself to her feet.

"You okay?" he asked, extending his hand to help steady her once she had risen.

"Yes...just a little tired," admitted Scully grudgingly. It had been a frightening experience to lie there paralyzed, aware of what was going on around her...and yet unable to move. It had seemed an eternity before sensation had returned to her, slow and agonizing, with the prickly rush associated with the restored flow of blood to her limbs. "How did you--?"

"I'll explain later," said Eric as she led the way to where the others were. Father Salvadore sat on a chair, head lifting at the sound of their footsteps, and pushed himself out of his chair to go to Eric, smiling widely as he took the younger man's hands.

"Eric! We were so worried--you are well?" he asked anxiously, squeezing Eric's hands as his eyes swept over the young man's slim form.

"Yes, Father, thank you." Eric disentangled his hands from the priest's, patting him on the shoulder, and his eyes were drawn to the stranger that sat beside a bed. But a moment later he saw the woman that lay there and he moved closer, gazing down at her with a frown. She seemed familiar somehow...but he couldn't quite...remember...

"This is Falana." Eric turned his head at the sound of Father Salvadore's voice as the priest came up beside him, laying a hand on Eric's shoulder. "She was attempting to help you break the hold Papalaja had on you. One of his soldiers...injured her when they took you from here."

"I...remember..." whispered Eric. Remembered her vaguely, singing the song that had helped him to shield himself from Papalaja's influence, to connect again with Shelly... "Is she...?" He couldn't make himself finish the sentence as he looked anxiously to the stranger that sat across the bed from him.

The man smiled faintly. "She'll be about a week recovering...but she'll be fine." He rose from his chair to stretch an arm across the bed. "I'm Colin."

"Eric." Eric shook the man's hand automatically, looking down at Falana again, and then shifted his attention to Father Salvadore. "Where are Mulder and Albrecht?"

"They went looking for you," said Colin. "Along with Lily. And her psychic friend, I gather..." he added, eyes twinkling.

Eric gave a little shake of his head to clear it. So much had been happening...all while he was either unconscious or prisoner...but there was still one thing to cling to. Mulder was still in danger...because it wasn't Papalaja or even Solange that wanted him dead. It was Constance's circle of assassins...who answered to another master all together, he was sure.

"We need to find them...and relocate," he said firmly. Didn't know where...but enough people already knew where they were.

Scully nodded and reached into her coat pocket for her cell phone. Dialed Mulder's cell phone and stood there, listening to it ring...and ring and ring...

Eric sensed that something was wrong. He remembered the voice that had reached out to him before. The stranger. Closing his eyes, Eric attempted to tap into the thread of the young man's subconsciousness and just when he felt doomed to failure, Eric felt a tickle in his mind. A response. No voice this time, just images. Mulder, Albrecht, a young girl and the stranger. They were in a room, dark and dank, chained to a wall. Eric could feel that there was something wrong with them. Not...hurt...per se, but. Then it hit him. They were drugged. **Where are you?** Eric sent out.

Travis heard Eric and tried to respond with words, but the drug in his system was too strong. So he used images, flinging them at Eric before he drifted away.

Scully watched as Eric's body suddenly convulsed and he fell to his knees. She ran to his side, cradling him against her as shook spasmodically. "Eric!" she hissed.

"Leave him...be," Falana whispered from the bed. "He is...in...contact with...someone." She had awakened upon feeling Eric's presence close by. Now she could almost tap into the thread of his mind. Almost. She knew he was being bombarded by the mind and soul of another. But it was a good soul this time.

"I hope you're right!" Scully whispered, holding on to Eric with all her strength. But she fell silent otherwise and waited.

The images hit Eric fast and furious. First he saw faces of men and then the faces formed into bodies. Three men who glided out of the darkness to attack Mulder and the others. They were immortals. Eric could feel it. His own kind, but filled with black hearts and dark souls. His kind, but not like him. Then came the images of the place where Eric's friends were being held. It was a mansion on a hill, an unfamiliar place to Eric, but the stranger sent him the directions, burning them into Eric's brain. It was a sensory overload, however, and Eric cried out before slipping into darkness.

Scully felt him slump in her embrace. "Dammit!" she hissed, carefully laying Eric down so that she could examine him. She was relieved when Colin joined her, for she felt that the man was better qualified to handle someone like Eric. "He's been through a lot of changes in the past few days," Scully stated for the record.

"I can see that," Colin replied, not explaining that Eric was the second Immortal he had examined. The first had been his sister, Rochelle. But Rochelle was dead now, having made the choice to cross over once her deeds were done. The portal had opened for her and she had passed on her way. A quick check of Eric and Colin realized that the young man was different in many ways. That what had happened to him, being bitten by Bastian and his battle with Papalaja had changed Eric. He was still immortal, yet his body had changed. He was more...human...than he had been before. He still would not die, and he would heal when injured, but his heart beat in his chest once more, and his skin was warm. He could be hurt and become ill now, and that would be his weakness. "He needs to rest," Colin stated, matter of factly, as he moved to lift Eric into his arms.

"How much more can he take?" Father Salvadore wondered aloud, as he helped Colin settle Eric into the cot next to Falana's bed.

Eric stirred in time to hear Father Salvadore's words. "I'm...immortal," he hissed, teeth clenched against the pain that flooded his body. His visions often left him shaken in the past, but they had never affected him like this before. "I know...where they are," Eric stated, attempting to rise from the bed but falling back when Colin pressed him down.

Scully was at Eric's side in an instant. "Mulder?" she queried, holding the young man's dark gaze.

"Yes," Eric stated, forcing himself to breath through new ripples of pain. He was starting to feel fear again, but in that moment he felt the touch of a soft hand in his mind. Shelly. Knowing that she was watching over him gave Eric renewed strength, and determination. "Some guy...the psychic...he showed me where they are," Eric announced. "Constance's people...the immortals like me...they took them."

"Where?" Scully beseeched.

Eric closed his eyes and remembered. "Clifton Manor," he replied. "About two hours from here. We need to hurry."

Colin pressed Eric back onto the mattress, exchanging looks with Father Salvadore for the other man to hold Eric while Colin administered a shot. "You need to rest for a bit," Colin said, his voice soft and soothing as he slid the needle into Eric's vein.

"What are you doing?" Eric protested, too late. Whatever the drug was, it took immediate effect. Eric drifted into hazy darkness.

"You!" Falana hissed suddenly, raising a shaking arm and pointing a finger at Colin. "How could I have been such a fool?"

Colin laughed. "I've waited a long time for Eric," he drawled. "For my...brother...as it were. For us to be together."

Father Salvadore and Scully exchanged confused looks. "What is going on here?" Father Salvadore demanded.

"Don't be a fool," Colin replied, pulling a gun out and training it on Father Salvadore and Scully. He motioned for Sarah to join the little group as well, then herded them all into a nearby closet, locking them in. "I work for a power that is far greater than you...God...!" Colin shouted through the closed door. "And Eric belongs to us now. We don't want to kill you, we just want what is ours." Having said his piece, Colin moved to Eric's cot, lifting the young man into his arms.

"I trusted you," Falana whispered, tears filling her eyes. She felt like a fool.

Colin felt a twinge of regret. "Your instincts are good, Falana," he purred. "You were looking for evil, and I'm not evil. I'm something...different. Something in between. Not the light or the dark...but the gray. The balance."

Falana thought she understood, just a little. There were forces that kept the balance, but they were unknown to her. "What will happen to Eric?" she asked, even as weakness dragged her back towards dark oblivion.

"He will learn to walk in the shadows," Colin whispered. And then he was gone.

The man was in his mid-sixties, possessed of a thick mane of white hair that refused to be fully tamed, and wire-rimmed glasses perched atop the long nose, combining with the neat beard and ruddy cheeks to give him a grandfatherly appearance. To further the image, he wore a sweater over a beige turtleneck and dark trousers, his feet clad in dark brown penny loafers. He held in his hands a pipe and was meticulously filling it with tobacco, seemingly focused completely on his task.

"You were supposed to kill this Mulder. Not bring him here." His voice held the rich Southern drawl that brought memories of magnificient plantations and the heavy heat of a lazy summer afternoon.

Constance waved at the man beside her that would have spoke, silencing him, and took a step towards the desk. "You want Eric Draven. Eric Draven is as loyal as a puppy dog...and he'll come running to help his friends."

Lighting his pipe, the old man puffed contentedly on it and lifted bright blue eyes to Constance, smoke curling up from the bowl of the pipe. "Thought you had Eric Draven," he said mildly but with a hint of steel in his eyes and voice.

Constance flushed, averting her eyes as she crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "There were...complications. He had help!" she added with a snarl, head jerking up to glare at the old man. He stared at her levelly, puffing on his pipe, and Constance's anger vanished, her expression sullen now. "The others can be useful," she muttered.

The old man sighed as he leaned back in his chair. There was so much potential in the young woman...but often times it was wasted. Quite obviously the dead had failed to transcend all the pettiness they had carried in their lives... "Then get what use you can out of them...and dispose of them." No matter what his colleagues thought, he would not allow Mulder to probe any farther into his own project...and besides...if a body never turned up, then there wasn't a crime, was there? After killing a Federal agent--no matter how disgraced he might be, he was still one--killing a cop was inconsequential...and Detective Albrecht was no more in favor with his superiors than Mulder. The other two...just civilians...easy to sweep under the carpet...

Constance nodded curtly and spun on her heel to exit from the room, her mind already busily thinking of what she would do to Mulder. A cruel smile curved her lips as she contemplated that...

With Father Salvadore's help, it took Scully precious minutes to force the closet door open and as it flew open under the force of a last kick, she ran out, past Falana still sprawled on the cot, and out into the main hall of the church, heading for the front doors. Father Salvadore remained with Falana, taking her hand in his and running his eyes anxiously over her as Sarah bounced on the heels of her feet, torn between the impulse to stay and to follow Scully.

A few minutes later Scully returned, breathing a little hard from her exertions, and impatiently swept a lock of red hair from her eyes. "Gone," she reported flatly as she went to retrieve her coat and gun, hurriedly donning her coat.

"And where are you going?" asked Father Salvadore worriedly, turning his attention from Falana to Scully.

Straightening the lapels of her coat, Scully checked her gun for ammunition and slapped the clip back in, reaching behind her to tuck the gun into the small of her back. "I'm going for Mulder."

"Alone? Is that wise?" Father Salvadore could have struck his forehead for that foolish statement--no, of course, it wasn't wise...but she would do so all the same...for her friend and partner. Just as Mulder would for her...

"I'll go!" piped up Sarah bravely.

Scully shook her head. "You're staying with Father Salvadore--it's not open to discussion," she added at seeing the young girl's mulish expression. "Where I'm going is too dangerous. And no, Father, I'm not going alone--I'm going to comandeer some agents to take with me. Mulder is still a Federal agent...and I will have assistance in rescuing him from his abductors."

"God go with you, my child," said Father Salvadore quietly, making the sign of the cross.

"Thank you, Father," said Scully with a grateful nod and knelt before Sarah, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Mulder first...and then Eric. I promise. But you have to stay here...and help Father Salvadore. Okay?"

"Okay..." muttered Sarah, scuffing the toe of her shoe on the floor.

Scully gave her a brief hug and then straightened to stride determinedly out of the room, hand dipping into her coat pocket to remove her cell phone and dialing the number of the local Bureau office before she had even exited the church.

Eric struggled his way up out of unconsciousness, swimming up out of the inky darkness of oblivion, and opened bleary eyes to look around him, blinking to clear his vision. A small room, like a cell, almost, the walls made of stone and bare save for the crucifix that adorned one wall--a wooden door barred the single exit, looking sturdy and formidable. A dark shape detached itself from one wall to approach him and Eric tried reflexively to sit up...only to fall back onto the bed, unable to rise for the thick leather strap drawn across his chest.

Rolling his head from side to side, he saw that both wrists were restrained by thick cuffs lined with cotton, ankles restrained as well. He jerked as a hand laid on one arm and glared at the man that stood beside him, the same man from the church that had injected him. As quickly as the anger came, it dissipated, replaced by a fear. Drugged... but he shouldn't have been. He wasn't affected by drugs...at least, he never had been before...

"What...what have you done to me?" he managed to say past a thick tongue.

"Nothing," said Colin, reaching out to stroke Eric's hair soothingly, the young man still too weak to resist his touch. "Other than to help you rest...to prepare for the task that lies before you."

"My...friends...they need me--" Even through the fog that clouded his mind, he could remember the flashing images from the stranger and that his friends were in danger. Mulder--Albrecht--others he didn't know...but had risked their lives for him all the same--he tried to rise from the bed again, straining against his bounds, and Colin pressed him back down, reaching into a pocket of his coat for a small case.

"You need to rest yet, Eric," said Colin placatingly, withdrawing a needle from the case and filling it.

"Noo..." Eric struggled to get free of the restraints but he was weak yet...and the bonds too strong. Colin gripped one arm to slide the needle into his vein, depressing the plunger and withdrawing the needle to watch as Eric's struggles slowed, his eyelids fluttering closed as his head lolled on the pillow.

"We have great plans for you, Eric..." said Colin, stroking the young man's hair again and then departing from the room.

Eric pulled himself back to consciousness once more, but the effort nearly exhausted him. To his relief he discovered that he was no longer bound to the bed, so he forced his lax muscles to obey him and rolled off the bed. Only to discover that his rubbery legs wouldn't hold him. With a cry of frustration, Eric collapsed to the floor.

Colin entered the room in time to see Eric go down. He had been watching the young man on monitors from the room next door. Kneeling beside Eric, he smiled as he lifted the other man into his arms and returned him to the bed. Colin's smile widened when he saw the mulish expression on Eric's beautiful face. "Yes...part of your weakness is the drugs," Colin allowed, answering the unspoken question between them.

"Why?" Eric demanded, as he rubbed at his thighs, fingers digging into what felt like useless flesh. "What do you want from me?"

"Your help," Colin replied, with innate honesty. He sat down by the bed, straddling a straightback chair. "I'm something like you, Eric," Colin explained. "We're all...different. Some of us stronger than others. Some good, some evil. You've met the evil."

Eric nodded, he could not deny that. But then he smirked. "I suppose you're the...good?" he drawled, sarcasm oozing from every pore.

Colin shrugged. "I try," he allowed, then he sighed. "You know about Constance's band of immortal assassins, Eric. You also know her power. They have to be stopped, and it's up to us to do it."

"Says who?" Eric challenged, grimacing a bit as a tingling pain flooded his legs. In a few minutes he would attempt to walk again and this time he would head straight out the door.

"Give me a chance to explain," Colin beseeched, correctly reading Eric's thoughts. The young man's eyes were mirrors to his soul. To the light that burned bright and glowing. He was the one they had been waiting for. The one who could shield the light from the darkness, the buffer who would walk in the shadows and protect the innocent while keeping peace between their own kind. That was why Eric had been sent back. Not to avenge his and Shelly's deaths, but to keep the peace. "If you don't like what you here," Colin continued, "you're free to go."

Eric considered Colin's proposal, then nodded. He needed more time to build up his strength anyway, so it wouldn't hurt to listen. "Talk to me," he prompted. "But you'd better make it good."

Colin took a deep breath then plunged in to his tale. He told Eric as much as he knew about their kind, which was a fair amount of information, and he could almost see Eric absorbing it all in. The young man had been thirsting for understanding. "Just like with mortals, Eric," Colin explained, "we have good and evil inside us. Light and dark. When I became...what we are...I was taught that there would be one who would walk in the shadows and be the guide as well as the shield."

"I'm not sure I understand what that means," Eric confessed.

"It means that you can lead our kind, Eric. Show us the way to do what's right," Colin ventured. "We were brought back to put to right all the wrongs in this world. Sometimes it's easy to understand what needs to be done, but sometimes...we cross the line."

Eric shook his head as he slid off the bed and tested his legs. This time they held him. "And you think that I know where to draw that line?" he challenged, dark eyes flashing. "I don't have a clue."

Colin went to Eric, one hand reaching out to squeeze the other man's shoulder. "You've got what it takes inside," he whispered, his free hand patting Eric's chest, over his heart. "Trust your instincts, and your power. It will see you through, Eric."

"I don't know about this, man," Eric replied, his fingers combing through his tangled hair. "All I wanted to do was get even with the guys that killed Shelly and me. But that wasn't enough to send me back to her. And now...I don't know what I'm supposed to do here."

"I think you do know," Colin countered, a smile of understanding curving his lips. "Will you lead us?"

Eric heaved a sigh. Uppermost in his mind was helping Mulder. "I need to think about it," he replied. "A friend needs my help...Mulder. When he's safe, then we'll talk. Deal?"

Colin shook the hand that Eric offered him. "Deal," he echoed. "Come on, a hot shower and a change of clothes will help you knock off the aftereffects of the drug I gave you. Then you can be on your way."

"Thanks," Eric replied, letting himself be led from the room. A few minutes later he stood beneath a hot spray of water, letting it wash away the tension and the lethargy that seemed to be a part of him these days. He washed his hair, then soaped his body, letting the needle like spray rinse him clean. Eric was just stepping out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, when the vision hit him. Mulder...in pain. A pain that Eric could feel.

"Dammit!" Eric hissed, dropping the towel and reaching for the clothes that Colin had left out for him, dragging jeans and a t-shirt over wet skin and combing his wet hair back into a slick ponytail. After stamping his feet into boots, Eric grabbed the leather jacket from the bed and ran out. Instinct guided him into the night, and a motorcycle was waiting at the curb. A heartbeat later, Eric roared off into the night.

It had taken Scully precious time--too much of it--to deal with Special Agent Wheeler, who hadn't believed her tale of a covert group of assassins holding Mulder and three others hostage. He'd sat there with his smug expression, giving her that condescending look she had seen others deal to Mulder far too often...and in the end she'd stalked out of his office, intending to leave the bureau office empty-handed. But in the end she'd managed to bring out two agents--Hargrove and Pruett--that had been working on the case and were willing to assist her in retrieving Mulder.

Given that for all she knew Mulder might already be dead--or nearly so--Scully could brook no more delays and they headed out to Crofton Manor with only the barest of plans...and no search warrant. Either she would come out of there with Mulder and the other three...or she'd come out empty handed and up on charges of illegal search and entry. With lives at stake, she found herself determined to ignore protocol and to accept complete responsibility for the actions of herself and the two agents.

From its name she was expecting Crofton Manor to be an elegantly made fortress...but the road they took was not barred by even so much as a security gate, leading up to the manor itself, a faded Victorian of bygone days. They'd left the car at the road, concealed behind thick brush, and made their way on foot up the driveway, pausing as they saw the house.

"How do you want to do this?" asked Hargrove, a veteran agent of eighteen years, stolid and competent.

Scully shot him a look, surprised that he would defer to her, but both he and Pruett were watching her expectantly, looking to her to take the lead. Going in the front door would be proper procedure...but while she was engaged with the owner of the house, his people could be disposing of the very ones she'd come to rescue.

"Through the back," she said firmly and gestured for them to follow as she set off. There was enough trees and brush to cover their approach up until the last hundred feet, where they would be open to view. With Hargrove and Pruett at her heels, Scully dashed across the open space, head down and shoulders tensing in expectation of bullets fired on them...but they made it to the house unscathed.

Slipping around the side of the house, they made their way to a back door and with a rueful grin, Pruett set to picking the lock, waving Scully and Hargrove in once he had it open. They slipped through the kitchen, finding a door near the pantry that led down to a basement, and Pruett got that door open as well, the three of them hurrying down the stairs.

And no sign of guards, an odd thing--if this place was what she thought it was...there should be someone here--

A shot rang out and Hargrove staggered, hand to his shoulder, bringing up his gun to aim in the direction of the shots...only to go down under another two bullets. Dropping to her knees, Scully aimed at the figure that emerged from a short hallway and sent it down with three bullets in its chest. Turning her head to look for Pruett, she found him kneeling beside Hargrove to check him, shaking his head at Scully as she met his eyes, his own grim.

Mouth set in a thin line, Scully rose and went to where the man she'd shot lay, watching him for several long seconds, gun ready to dispense another bullet should he so much as twitch. Even after all that happened, she was not entirely convinced about the possibility of immortal assassins...but she would take no chances here.

But the man did not move...and she knelt beside the body to do a quick search. A ring of keys were tucked into one pocket and she extracted them, rising to her feet to stride quickly down the hallway, heading for the door at the end of it. Three tries and she found the right key, the door opening under her hand and Pruett moving to cover her as it swung open.

A quick visual sweep of the room showed only four occupants, all chained to the wall, primary among them the slumped figure of Mulder. Scully strode quickly forward, focused on Mulder as she went through her keys, not seeing the door to the left open...

"Scully!"

At the call from Albrecht, Scully turned in time to see a white-jacketed form emerge from the door to her left, gun in hand. Pruett fired at the man and he jerked under the impact of the bullet, turning to aim at Pruett and send him down as well. As Scully hurriedly threw herself to the side, a bullet struck the wall just inches from Mulder's head, the man shifting his aim to the prisoners, with the intent of killing them all. Rolling Scully fired without taking the time to aim, looking to disrupt the other's focus rather than hit him, and it did the trick, drawing his attention to her.

And a moment later a dark figure streaked past her to tackle the man, bearing him down to the ground. Rising to his feet, the lapels of the man's jacket clenched by his fingers, Eric threw him into the wall and the man slide down it to collapse in a limp heap. Even as Scully got to her feet, Eric was kneeling by the man to take his gun. Scully took the time to check Pruett--dead too, damn it all--and then went to Mulder to release him from his bonds, slipping an arm around his waist to catch him as he slumped. Eric was immediately beside her to help support Mulder's limp weight and Scully freed a hand to lift his head, seeing that he was pale...but otherwise alive.

"Let the others loose," said Eric, taking on Mulder's weight, and Scully nodded, moving to release the other three from their bonds. Though he leaned heavily against the wall for support, Albrecht was able to stay on his feet, waving Scully away when she touched him on the arm in concern. Released, Lily slid to the floor and laid there, still groggy from the drugs she'd been given, and Travis collapsed as well, muttering something unintelligible.

"I'll get Mulder," said Eric, slinging Mulder easily over one shoulder. "There's no one else in the house--that I can...sense."

Scully raised an eyebrow at that firm statement but let it go. Time later to ponder that...and how he knew--

"I think I can get Lily...if you can get Travis..." said Albrecht, making an effort to stand on his own, weaving a little but his eyes looking clearer.

Scully nodded and went to lift Travis to his feet, grunting as she took his weight on her shoulders and manuvering him carefully out of the room, trusting to Eric to lead them to safety.

At Albrecht's direction, they went to a house owned by a friend of his, currently out of town. A spare key was placed in a flower pot, just as Albrecht predicted, and let them into a spacious condo. Under Scully's direction, Eric deposited Mulder on a bed and returned to the car to retrieve Scully's bag, going to check on Lily and Travis to find them relatively unhurt, save for the drug that was still fogging their senses, as Scully tended Mulder.

Albrecht sat in a chair, bleary-eyed but aware, and Eric went to join him, clapping him on the shoulder. Albrech raised his head wearily to look up at his friend and managed a smile. "Was beginning to wonder if I'd see you again, man," he said with a small chuckle.

"Me, too," replied Eric softly, clasping Albrecht's hand briefly.

Scully emerged from the bedroom, brushing stray strands of red hair from her eyes as she let loose a sigh. "Lily and Travis are fine--the drugs they were given should wear off in a few hours. Mulder has some minor injuries but there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage...that I can see, at least." Her expression went grim as she thought of the fallen agents. "I need to call the Bureau, send them in to check the house--"

Eric shook his head. "You won't find anything. They've cleared out...before we even arrived. The last order of business was to clean up...which we managed to disrupt." He'd done a quick check of the house, finding an office that had yielded him some informative visions. Constance confronting an old man there, her mentor...of sorts--the old man giving the order to wrap things up...

Albrecht heaved a sigh, rubbing his forehead wearily. "So we're back where we started from--they're still out there...only now we've pissed them off. And they'll be coming back."

"After they regroup," agreed Scully. "For them...maintaining their invisibility is integral. And killing two Federal agents garners a great deal of attention. It will take time...but, yes, they will be back."

"Not if I can help it," said Eric quietly, drawing their curious gaze...but he was staring off into space, thinking of Colin's words and how he could lead the fight. Good against evil...maintaining the balance. He was changed now...his chance to be with Shelly lost...and now all he could do was make the most of his existence here...

And he would start with seeing to it that ones like Constance were driven back to the hell they belonged in...

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