satyricon au go go

Purity Control: Part One: Canadian Gothic

915 pm June 7th
Apartment 3J
221 West Racine
Chicago

Fraser pressed his hands back flat against the wall, eyes shut, arching as again Ray's hot, wet mouth enveloped him, tongue teasing in extraordinary ways, bringing him, ripe, to the very threshold, and then, leaving him, trailing delicious kisses back up along his smooth creamy flesh, to seal his lips over Fraser's once more.

Ray's tongue flicked in and out of Fraser's navel for a moment, then slid up to encircle his nipple, teeth nipping at it, making it pucker and harden. He pressed his mouth to it, covering it, and sucked gently.

Fraser turned his head into the pillow, unable to bear it.

Fraser would not stand for the frustration, and, embracing Ray in his strong limbs, rolled Ray under him, grinding his thick and hardened manhood into Ray's hip.

"Not so fast, " Ray giggled breathlessly, Fraser's muscular embrace almost crushing him. Fraser sucked upon Ray's fingers lovingly, then half choked him with his tongue again. Ray's hand slid down Fraser's spine, to playfully part the cheeks of his buttocks, stroking, then pressing, sliding, wriggling. Ray thought his bones would break as Fraser bucked wildly against him, his arms squeezing tight like a human boa constrictor, his rock hard cock driving against Ray, until Ray felt the hot liquid sensation spread across his hip and thigh, and he knew Fraser had come. He kissed his lover's sweat sheened brow, the short, dark hair plastered down, eyes wide, almost insensible, as Fraser's heartbeat slowed to match Ray's.

Words were beyond Fraser, he merely burrowed his face affectionately against Ray's throat, like a child seeking succour. Ray reached down beside the bed and snatched up a damp towel, gently removing the evidence of their sex.

Fraser's breathing slowed, falling into a contented, exhausted slumber. Ray let his hand trace invisible patterns upon his lover's back as he stared up at the darkened ceiling. As the first flush of their lovemaking receded, he began to feel more and more like dirt.

He felt as though he had stolen Fraser's purity, was unworthy of the gift. He couldn't escape the feeling that his touch had somehow tainted Benny, and Benny had been made more vulnerable because of it.

-o0o-

Ray woke, vaguely aware that Fraser was no longer spooned up tightly beside him in the tiny bed, nor was he curled up on his sleeping bag on the floor.

Fraser was bent over in his chair, lacing up his walking boots.

"Ben?" Ray called softly.

Fraser's head snapped up.

"Yes, Ray."

"What are you doing?"

"Going for a walk."

"At this hour? In this neighbourhood?"

"Yes. I couldn't sleep. I'm taking Dief with me, as wolves are naturally nocturnal hunters."

Ray sat up slightly.

"Are you okay?"

Fraser smiled. "Yes. I just couldn't sleep." He finished lacing his shoes, walked over to the bed, stooping to plant a light kiss on Ray's forehead.

"Its nothing. I just need to get some air, that's all. I guess I'm still adjusting to city life."

"Okay, but take my gun with you, please."

"I don't have a licence to carry your gun, Ray." he smiled. "I'll be back in half an hour."

He stood up, and Deif fell in instantly beside his side.

Ray lay back against the now cool sheets, but he couldn't sleep.

After lying there for about 15 minutes, he decided to get up and get dressed, taking his gun, to go and find Fraser.

-o0o-

Ray heard a soft whimpering from the alley way.

"Deif?" He shone his flashlight down the laneway, striking the fur of the white wolf. Deif was lying flat on the ground, distressed, against a dark shape. Ray swung the flashlight across.

"Oh, no," he pleaded, the light playing across Fraser's crumpled body.

He knelt beside Fraser, reaching out reluctantly for a pulse. There was one, faint but sluggish. He pulled back his hand; his fingers were wet and sticky with blood. He swung the torch into Fraser's face, and nearly gagged. The skin was almost blue, except for the bright scarlet bloody tears upon his throat.

Ray pulled his phone out, wiping Fraser's blood off his hands down his jeans so he could dial the number without his fingers slipping on the keys.

"Yeah, that's right - officer down," he all but cried into the mouthpiece.

"Is that you, Ray?" came the voice over the phone.

"Yeah. Elaine, its Fraser. I think he's dying."

Fraser's heart slowed to a stop; Ray was pounding on his chest by the time the ambulance arrived, and watched helplessly while the paramedics worked on Fraser. Through the crowd of emergency workers he saw Fraser's body jerk as they tried to restart his heart.

When they finally got a sluggish, irregular beat they loaded him up into the ambulance and slammed the doors shut.

Ray watched the ambulance leave, and then turned to Dief.

"You were supposed to protect him," he accused, then stopped, crouching down to wolf level.

"Hey, what's up, boy, you upset about Fraser, too?"

But it was more than that. The wolf was scared. Ray had never seen a scared wolf before, but he was pretty sure that was what it was.

He'd seen dogs beaten and mistreated, and that was the same kind of wary look Dief had in his eyes now.

"Come on, boy." Ray opened his car door, and, after a lot of coaxing, finally got Dief inside. He called Elaine and found out they'd taken Fraser to Chicago Hope.

J Edgar Hoover Building
Washington DC

Scully stood with her arms folded, reading the newspaper clipping Mulder had blown up for her on the overhead projector.

"Vampire attacks Mountie." she repeated incredulously. "Mulder, you can't be serious. Look at the source - INS - they're the ones that keep feeding the press those sewer monster stories."

"Sewer monsters exist, Scully, you've seen one. And I've seen a vampire. Three, in fact."

She turned, sharply.

"When was this."

"When you were gone," he muttered, eyes downcast. "Anyway, there was an officer of the RCMP admitted to a Chicago hospital two days ago with his throat torn open and missing several pints of blood."

"Has he given a statement."

Mulder shook his head. "He doesn't remember anything."

Scully said nothing, but her all knowing look was annoying.

"Anyway, I've been doing some research - "

"And there's an X file?" she asked archly.

Mulder nodded. "And not just here. Canada and Britain as well."

"You have been busy."

"I have my sources," he admitted, shrugging and smiling mysteriously.

He put on an overhead of a Chicago police report, circa 1969. Several victims, all with the classic MO of a vampire attack, and a photograph of the investigating officer. He had a strong, square Celtic face, fair hair and haunted eyes. The cases were never solved.

"That case is 25 years old, Mulder. It can't be the same person."

"Oh no?" he smiled mysteriously again, and put down another overhead on the projector.

The headlines of the Chicago tribune came up on the wall, reporting the trial of an archaeology professor for alleged unamerican activities. Amongst the evidence against him was a supply of blood in his fridge. But that wasn't all. The face, in the photograph, it was the same as the police officer's, unaged.

"But that's not possible," Scully argued. "This photograph is from 1954."

Mulder grinned, and put down his ace. A newspaper report of a series of vampire like murders in Toronto in 1992, and the photograph of the investigating officer, the same man, the same face.

"Its not possible," Scully insisted.

Mulder folded his arms.

"You tell me, Scully. Clones, mutant, good plastic surgeon, or -"

"No." she insisted.

"Detective Knight, currently of Toronto, and late of Chicago according to his records, has a medical disability - he's allergic to sunlight. He only works nights."

"You can't be serious."

"Its all on record."

Scully studied the overhead again, and then a map of North America Mulder had pinned to the wall.

"So what's so attractive about the great lakes to vampires. I thought they were afraid of water." She turned back to Mulder. "Chicago or Toronto?"

"Chicago." he decided.

June 10th
Chicago Hope hospital
Chicago.

The two federal agents could hear angry voices echoing up the hospital corridor.

Well, one angry voice and one patient one.

"No, Fraser, dammit. I told you. I told you about that neighbourhood. You are not going back there."

"But its my neighbourhood, Ray."

"And it nearly got you killed."

Mulder knocked and opened the door.

"Who the hell are you," Ray glared at the intruder.

Scully flashed her badge. "Federal agents."

"And what the hell are you doing here." Ray insisted. Fraser reached out and put a calming hand on Ray's arm.

"Ray, I'm a Canadian consular official attacked on an American street. It only makes sense that the federal authorities might investigate it." He smiled up at Scully so charmingly it took her breath away.

And he was charming. And quite good looking, too, in spite of his pallor and the dark circles under his eyes.

"Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP," he introduced himself. "This is my partner, Detective Ray Vecchio, of the Chicago Police."

Mulder gave Ray the once over, which Ray resented thoroughly.

"This is my case," Ray threatened.

"Ray," pleaded Fraser.

"No problem, Detective. I'm not here to step on your jurisdiction.
We'd just like to ask the constable some questions."

Ray glared at Mulder, then at Scully as she approached Fraser's bed.

"I'm a doctor," she explained to Fraser. "May I?"

He lay perfectly still for her as she peeled away the bandages and inspected the stitches underneath. She carefully replaced the bandage and then moved to the foot of the bed to read the clipboard.

"three transfusions, " she couldn't help blurting out loud in her surprise.

Mulder placed a tape recorder down on the tray near the bed and switched it on.

"What's that for, " demanded Ray.

"My records." Mulder answered, then switched his attention to Fraser.

"You can't remember anything about the attack?"

"No, sir," Fraser answered, his voice still a little husky. "I remember I was walking my wolf, nothing else."

"Wolf?" Mulder asked.

"So he has a wolf." Ray snapped irritably.

"Did the wolf make any move to protect you, did he bite your assailant, for instance?" asked Mulder, hoping for some trace evidence, no matter how slight.

"No, sir." Fraser admitted, reluctantly. "Ray said Diefenbaker was behaving as though he was scared."

"What scares a wolf," Scully wondered out loud.

"Ah, the children of the night, what sweet music they make,"

Mulder mangled Bram Stoker, but his meaning was clear - Dracula could stare down a wolf.

"Oh, come on, " snapped Ray. "You don't believe in this vampire crap as well."

Mulder did not reply, focusing solely on Fraser.

"Constable, I'd like your permission to try something."

"Absolutely" Fraser smiled co-operatively.

"Id like to regress you to the night of the incident."

"You mean hypnotise him?" Ray almost shrieked.

"I'm not going to make him cluck like a chicken, if that's what you mean. I'm a trained psychologist. Its perfectly safe. " Mulder assured, watching the detective pace the room anxiously from the corner of his eye. He'd rather do this without the detective present, but there was no way he could get him out of the room, not without sending Scully out with him.

"Constable, "

"Fraser,"

"Okay, Fraser," Mulder smiled; another soulmate with an unfortunate given name.

"I want you to breath deeply and slowly, and focus here. In your own time, I want you to tell me the last thing you remember that night. You were walking your wolf - "

"Diefenbaker. He smelt something, or saw something. He's deaf, so I knew he couldn't have heard it. All his hackles rose, I've never seen anything like it, he was growling. I stopped, and looked both ways up the lane. There was a man."

"A man?"

"Yes. Average height, though he seemed taller. He was wearing a black trench coat, very expensive from the cut. His shoes, too, were patent leather, very well made. I asked him if he was lost. He didn't answer. He just smiled. His eyes - " Fraser frowned. "His eyes were like a wolf's, predatory. They seemed to reflect the ambient light, oddly, like an animals. He was about 5 feet away, and then right in front of me. I don't know how. Deifenbaker growled at him. The man just looked at Deif, and he slunk off, terrified.. I was afraid, too, the sort of gut fear you get when you're being hunted, and you know it. He pressed me back against the wall. He was unnaturally strong. I couldn't move or speak. I felt his breath across my face, he smelt of blood, stale blood. I felt him, he was biting me, his teeth were tearing me open, I couldn't move to fight him. I was helpless. Then I started to feel light-headed, and aroused. I think I started to lose consciousness - "

"Okay, Fraser. That's enough. You're back with us now. Everything's fine."

Fraser blinked.

Scully frowned. His pulse had actually begun to slow again as he remembered. That wasn't all. His pupils were dilated, amongst other physiological signs. He was aroused, now.

"It was pleasurable. I wanted it. I wanted to die in his arms."

"But you didn't. What made him stop."

Ben frowned thoughtfully, "I don't know."

"Something must have interrupted him. You're the only one he's not killed outright." Mulder surmised.

"Do you remember his face," Mulder asked.

Fraser shook his head.

"No. I'm afraid that much is still a blank to me. I can remember his shoes. But not his face. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, " Mulder smiled, Cheshire like. "You've been a great help."

"Oh yeah, " started in Ray. "Like now you'll throw him in the nuthouse."

"No."

Ray stopped in his tracks.

"You believe he was really bitten by a vampire?" Ray demanded, disbelieving.

"I believe the constable was attacked by a man who believed himself to be a vampire, yes." Mulder replied.

-o0o-

"Mulder, there are no such things as vampires - " Scully insisted outside in the corridor.

"Oh no? You did check out the hickey on the Mountie," he replied laconically, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Besides, you've seen the file. Sure, vampirism is a psychiatric illness, like lycanthropy. Sufferers will kill to get blood; I've read the cases. But a man who should be in his 60s but looks like his 20s or 30s - how do you explain that?"

"I can't. Not yet." Scully admitted, to Mulder's small grin at her promise.

-o0o-

27th Precinct House
Chicago.

The three law enforcement officers shared a table in the interrogation room, having agreed to investigate the assualt on the Mountie jointly.

"There have been three other similar attacks in this latest spate, all fatal," explained Mulder. "All the victims were white males, 20s to 30s, reasonably good looking and apparently gay."

"What, you mean this could been some sort of homophobic violence?" asked Ray, without missing a beat.

It was Scully who missed the beat, unable to hide her surprised expression. She hadn't realised. Mulder had apparently picked up on some non verbal cues.

"But why Fraser," Ray continued. "No one knows, except Elaine, probably, and maybe the entire tenement where he lives who've seen me leave in the mornings."

"The attack was near there," Mulder reminded.

"No. Can't be. Benny's got them all charmed. No one would hurt him. At least, I don't think so."

Mulder pushed a file across the table to Vecchio. Ray opened it.

"This is the photo of the guy you showed to Benny. He your suspect?"

Mulder shrugged.

"He used to be a Chicago cop. 1990. Your precinct."

Ray shook his head vehemently. "No way. I've never seen this guy before in my life."

Scully and Mulder exchanged glances.

"What!" demanded Ray. "What do you know. Don't lock me out of this. That's my friend back there in that hospital bed. If this guy had anything to do with it - I want to know!"

"He wasn't the one who attacked Constable Fraser. He was working his shift in Toronto, his partner vouched for him. He has an airtight alibi."

"Why show the photo to Benny then?"

"Just ruling out possibilities," Mulder replied, with some nagging doubt over Detective Schanke's indignant testimony.

"What possibilities?" demanded Ray, his voice rising by a pitch. He wasn't being dealt all the cards, and he knew it.

"In the words of Sherlock Holmes, once you eliminate the impossible, what remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

"Yeah, so?"

"I think we're dealing with real vampires here."

Ray looked suitably stunned.

"Real vampires?" he managed to choke, screwing up his face in distaste and mockery.

Ray was now giving Mulder the 'what planet are you on' look Mulder was all too familiar with.

Quite calmly, however, Mulder laid open the files for Vecchio whose expression registered with disbelief what he read with each new page.

He looked over the table to Mulder at last.

"You don't really believe this guy is a vampire," Ray tried to reason.

"He drinks blood, he's allergic to sunlight, he hasn't aged a day in 50 years. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, chances are it is a duck." Mulder replied, confident in his correct assessment of the situation.

"I think we should pay this Detective Knight in Toronto a visit." decided Ray.

"We can't officially conduct our investigation across the border," reminded Scully.

Ray smiled, suddenly, smugly. "Give me a few days. I think I know a way to arrange that."

-o0o-

Scully raced a little to keep pace with Mulder's long stride.

"Okay, Sherlock, tell me how you knew the Detective and the Mountie were lovers."

"elementary, my dear Scully. Fraser referred to Detective Vecchio as his partner. The Detective has not been officially assigned a partner, let alone a Canadian officer. Secondly, a few interviews and phone calls reported that those two are virtually joined at the hip. They work cases together, they spend all their spare time together. Just going through Vecchio's cases , there was a kidnapping that they got involved with while having dinner together, a weapons heist they uncovered on the way home from shooting a few hoops, a meat substitution racket they uncovered while shopping together, " Mulder could not hide a smug grin. "And Vecchio's report for this incident. He went looking from Fraser, who had been gone longer than expected from his residence. What kind of friend stays over until 3 in the morning?"

"Well, " Scully began, but stopped, not wanting to impart her recollections of medical school to an all too smug Mulder. "I see your point. " she agreed. "So where do we go from here?"

"Where else? Toronto."

-o0o-

Candian Consulate
Chicago.

Fraser nodded to them, then, removing his hat, stepped into the Chief Liaison officer's office.

Scully watched the uniformed officer exit with desire in her heart.

"You have no idea, " she whispered conspiratorially to Mulder, "what the sight of a good looking man in uniform can do to a woman."

"And some men." Mulder added whimsically.

Scully gave him one of her looks, as always, never entirely sure as to whether Mulder was kidding or not.

Twenty minutes later, Fraser emerged, beaming at his success. They could continue their investigation across the border, no problem.

Mulder leant close and whispered in Scully's ear, "Remind me to use this guy the next time I want a favour from Skinner."

Scully coughed, covering her smirk demurely. Yes, she knew what he meant. If they wound up Constable Fraser of the RCMP and pointed him in the right direction, Skinner wouldn't stand a chance."

-o0o-

"What is bothering you, Ray, " Father Behan asked patiently. The slight detective seened especially agitated today, shisting constantly in the claustrophobic confines of the confessional booth.

Ray fidgeted for a moment, then poured forth his concerns in a rush of words, so fast, Father Behan only caught the last part of the stream of conscoiuness. "..do you belive in vampires, Father?"

"Me, personally?" asked the Father, a little stunned.

"The Church then? What's the official line?"

"Why do you ask.?"

"I just need to know, Father . Its important." Ray's voice was thick with churned up emotion. Something had stirred him up.

Father Behan sighed. Well, he'd never get to the bottom of it if he didn't play along. "I believe the vampire myth came to western Europe after the Austro-Hungarian wars. The Church called vampires demons, sent to punish the sinners and ungodly. But you know, Ray, even while they were burning witches, learned men were recognising demonic influence as the impulses that make us want to sin, nothing supernateral, but geniuine psychological illnesses. Why the sudden interest in vampires?"

"I think Fraser's in trouble , " murmured Ray.

"What sort of trouble, " pushed Father Behan, but he was speaking to empty air, Ray had gone.

-o0o-

Interrogation Room
96th Precinct
Metro Police
Toronto
June 14th.

"Nick, is there a problem here?" asked Schanke, standing behind his partner, facing down like hostile officers.

Mulder set the video camera down on the table and hit the record button.

"What's that for?"

"My records," Mulder answered succinctly.

"This is a federal investigation into an attack on a Canadian officer in Chicago. The case bears similarities to cases both here in Toronto, and Chicago. Detective Knight was the investigating officer on both cases. We believe he may have insights that could help us. " he elaborated.

"Go, Schanke. I can handle this. Its okay, Schank. They just want me to rehash old case histories."

"Well, okay, Nick. It's your call." He still didn't like it, the four of them, facing down his partner.

They waited until Schanke left the interrogation room and closed the door behind him.

Nick sat back in his chair, studying them all, warily. It was there, in their eyes. They knew. They knew what he truly was. The Federal agent's reference to his Chicago career had merely been a coded way of alerting him to the fact. Yes, Nick had been a cop in Chicago, but in the 60s. His history in Chicago in this incarnation was, for the most part, a work of fiction.

Mulder pushed a buff coloured manila folder across the table towards him.

Nick opened it, a little reluctantly. There it was. His old police reports, and a departmental photograph. He turned over the Xeroxed pages. Ah, yes, the headline article, and photograph, the blood drinking commie Professor Nicolas Girard. More papers still, Captain in the British forces, World War II.

"Quite a paper trail," Scully observed.

Nick closed the file.

"Yes, it is. I hadn't realised."

Ray took the crucifix from his neck, holding it in his fist he thrust it forward into Nick's face.

Nick's face tightened, and he recoiled a little. A cross wielded by a true believer still had the power to hurt him.

Fraser caught Ray's wrist and pushed the cross away.

"There's no need to threaten him, Ray." he reminded.

Ray turned his fury on Fraser.

"How can you - defend this creature!" he cried. "He's just like the one that nearly killed you."

"But it wasn't Detective Knight who attacked me. Detective Knight was here, in Toronto, and he is an officer of the law."

Ray jerked his wrist free angrily, the cross swung wildly, striking Nick upon the face momentarily. Nick snarled, eyes glowing yellow for an instant, raising his hand to the mark the cross had burned upon his cheek. As they watched, it faded, as though the mark had never been there.

And it was captured all on tape.

-o0o-

The Raven
Toronto

Janette studied the quartet that entered her club over the rim of her wine glass with suspicious blue eyes.

Her Nicolas, flanked by three mortals; a handsome young Mountie, a tall young man in a dark suit and serious expression, and a haggard looking man who eyed everything and everyone in the nightclub with suspicion.

"Nicolas, what is this?" she asked softly in her accented voice.

She gazed into the tallest man's eyes, and she saw cold reality staring her back.

She set her wine glass down on the counter brittley.

"Nicolas," she hissed. "What have you done."

"They tracked me down. There's been a vampire attack in Chicago."

"Detective Knight is kindly helping us with our enquiries, Ma'am," replied Fraser, unbuttoning the top buttons of his coat and shirt, flicking open the collar to reveal the white bandage on his throat.

Janette could smell the blood beneath the bandage, and breathed it in for a moment, before regaining control of herself.

She leant forward, tracing a polished nail along Fraser's jawline.

"Well, someone has taste," she purred.

Mulder could feel Ray's hackles rise, even just standing beside him.

"I want the one who did this," demanded Nick, barely concealing the menace in his voice.

"Why? Jealous?" Janette shot back, bitter mischief in her eyes, an echo of Lacroix.

"Because his attack was stupid; public. He led them to me."

"And you led them to me." she snapped back at him.

He grabbed her wrist savagely, and she glared at him, eyes glowing.

He let her go, violently.

"Don't you dare touch me like that, ever again." She took a drag on her cigarette, her hand shaking with rage.

"When was this attack?" she asked at last, blowing smoke into Nick's face.

"Just over a week ago." Nick replied.

"Someone you know?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe you could help."

"I don't betray our kind."

She began to turn her back to him, but Nick caught her shoulder.

"He's a rogue. If the enforcers come for him, they'll come for me, too. Maybe you."

She met his eyes. He was genuine. Fear passed through her crystal- like eyes: fear of losing him, fear of the enforcers.

"Alright," she agreed sullenly.

Fraser looked around the club, as Mulder, Ray and Knight got down to the business of interrogating Janette as to the idenity of the vampire who'd attacked him.

Ben turned away, not wanting to relive the unpleasant events in his mind. He wandered away, an almost wide eyed curiosity getting the better of him as he observed the club interior, deciding that all nightclubs must look the same, with the lush decor, pushing aside the curtain of chains that hung from the ceiling, and the patrons, hundreds of pale, made up and exotically black-clothed youths jumping and grinding to the frenzied thrash that drove its relentless beat inside him. Butterfly wings.

As he watched the crowd, he suddenly caught the ice-cold eyes of a tall, black leather clad man who watched over all with an intense attention from the shadowy corner.

Fraser stood transfixed as the man seemed to glide from the darkness towards him, his pure white hand reaching out to cup his chin and tilt his head back, exposing his throat. He stared into the man's steel blue eyes as they locked onto his. Ben felt nothing, knew nothing except sweet sensation as cold lips pressed against his flesh, re-opening the wound and suckling, drawing up the blood in soft, throbbing swallows, before drawing back in faint surprise, smiling almost beatifically. Lacroix found a raging torrent of rage and passion surging beneath the still exterior, almost drawing back in surprise, such was it's intensity, before he tapped its very source.

His blue eyes gazed up into the vampires with sudden understanding and...desire. His eyelids fluttered close, his breath escaping in a low sexual groan, feathering across Lacroix's ear. Warm breath, the breath of life. The human clutched at his shoulder's more tightly, grinding his pelvis in the vampire in a gesture of almost obscene wantoness. Oh yes, this was good. Lacroix bent and drank deeply again; he could feel the human's heartbeat struggling, skipping as Lacroix pulled upon it. He held the human firmly, taking him to their climax, together, locked in a slow dance of death.

Not here, a sharp thought intruded into his consciousness. Lacroix pushed the thought away, but it returned again, insistent. Not now, he scowled. He buried his fangs in the pure white throat, reaching down, deeper down until he touched the human's soul, opened it, stood dazed in the wonder of it, then planted his seed inside it. He let the human sink back in his arms, uncaring, blood drunk and sated, then let him drop to the ground like a discarded coke bottle.

Released, Ben sank down to the ground, crumpling backwards in a dead faint.

Lacroix took a wicked delight in knowing that his erstwhile son, who took his duties as a policeman, Lacroix sneered over the word, would be very distressed to learn that Lacroix had developed a taste for Mounties during his stay in Canada. And this one was so very, very good.

A small crowd gathered around the fallen mountie. Ray glanced up, sensing the disturbance, and in the same instant, realised Ben was no longer by his side.

"Frasier? Hey - Benny?!" he called above the cacophony of sound.

"Hey, officer coming through, " he yelled, pushing his way through the small crowd, and then stopped dead.

Fraser lay at his feet.

Janette knelt beside Ben, touching a fingertip to his bleeding throat, then touched her finger to her lips, tasting, savouring the droplet of fresh, warm blood.

"Who bit him, " Ray demanded.

"No one," she glared with ice like eyes. "Such behaviour is not permitted on the premises."

"And everyone practices this abstinence?" queried Mulder.

"I enforce it," she smiled, viciously. Her eyes held Mulder's, considering him like one would consider a rich chocolate cake in a shop window.

"Janette is 1,000 years old. No one would dare cross her, " Nick defended, gallantly, and she smiled at him, pleased. "No one would dare, " he repeated, more to himself than the mortals. He swept the crowd again with his vampire eyes. He caught it again, just the hint of a tingling thread that pulled at him; so hard to tell, with the dancefloor thick with his kind.

"Besides," Janette pureed, still kneeling beside the stricken Mountie, "I have plenty on tap."

"Enough to dissuade your clients from snacking when the food is on the hoof, so to speak."

"Absolutely," she smiled at Mulder, a deep, delicious smile.

Ray knelt beside his fallen friend, glaring at Janette jealously across the body, somewhat at a loss.

"I knew we should have never brought him in here, " he muttered sullenly.

"Its no use crying over spilt... milk, Chere" Janette sighed, rising with unnatural grace.

Ray just glared at her, which only seemed to amuse her more.

Fraser began to stir at her feet, slowly regaining his senses. He opened his blue eyes, and found Ray leaning anxiously over him.

"Ray?" he asked.

Ray just frowned at him.

"I'm okay, Ray," Fraser insisted, trying to sit up under his own steam, but not entirely successfully.

"You fainted, Fraser," Ray accused, arms folded crossly.

The bandage on his throat had fallen away and the wound had begun to bleed again.

Behind them, Nick's eyes caught the light of the moon, glowing red. He smelt the blood, his fangs falling into place; and he felt a presence nearby. An old presence. He glanced up and was gone.

-o0o-

Knight landed lightly upon the rooftop. His master turned,
acknowledging his presence with the imperious arch of an eyebrow.

"You did this," Knight accused.

Lacroix smiled, his son's angry words falling harmlessly at his feet.

"I'm only trying to help you, Nicolas." he shook his head sadly.

"You couldn't run an antique bookstore, no, you had to choose a career in the public eye, for the public good," he almost spat the word.

"Your house of cards is falling down, Nicolas. They know about you, and now about Janette. Either I kill them now, or leave you all for the enforcers. It's you or them."

"No."

"They're only mortals."

"They're officers of the law."

Lacroix sniffed.

"Really, Nicolas. Your faithlessness towards your own kind is despairing enough, without adding solidarity to a motley band of mortals to your sins." warned Lacroix.

"Its for my sins I won't let you harm them." Nicolas growled back.

"He is exquisite, " Lacroix smiled, patting a silk handkerchief to his lips.

"Who?"

"The young Constable, of course. You should taste his blood, Nicholas. Such a raging passion, all locked away tightly. It would be amusing to let him taste his darkest desires, don't you think?"

"Stay away from him, " Nick snarled.

"Why, do you want him?" Lacroix's steel blue eyes drilled through him, his lip curled upwards in a sneering, all knowing smile.

"But of course not. I know what you truly desire, Nicolas. You can never hide your thoughts from me."

Nick turned his face away, angry and ashamed.

Lacroix caught his face in his cold, hard hands and twisted it back to face him. He crushed his lips against Knight's in a cruel, punishing kiss, his fingers digging into his shoulders like talons.

-o0o-

Motel Room
Toronto
1.15 am.

Fraser felt a cool caress upon his skin, a kiss as soft as breath upon his lips.

"Ray," he murmured, weakly, eyes closed, as lips trailed across his throat, nuzzling away the white cotton gauze.

He sighed, arching in escasty as pointed teeth penetrated the wound and the slow sucking began, drawing upon him in slow pulsing waves, a pull that reached right through him, down through his groin.

He moaned, softly, giving himself up once more to the sensation.

"Fraser - ", Ray opened the bathroom door, razor still in one hand.
The shaft of fluorescent light fell across the darkened room, striking the dark coated figure crouched over Fraser in the bed. The creature glanced up and growled, eyes glowing red, fangs bared, dripping with blood. Fraser's blood.

For an instant, Lacroix considered killing the intruder upon his feast, but then he saw the crucifix that hung from Ray's neck, and knew that it had power over him. Snarling, he rose up and crashed through the ceiling, escaping into the night air.

Ray threw himself forward to try and protect Fraser from the falling plaster. Fraser wasn't moving. The newly torn open wound upon his throat was barely bleeding.

Ray hugged his beloved tight, staring bitterly up at the hole in the ceiling as he felt Fraser's heart beat struggle and slow.

"Scully!" he screamed.

Fraser's head rolled back limply, he was a dead weight in Ray's arms.

"No, Benny, don't do this. Stay with me, Ben." pleaded Ray, as he felt Fraser slipping away from him in his arms.

-o0o-

Ray came out of the motel room, trailing Benny anxiously as the guerney was loaded up into the ambulance, the same moment the aqua blue 1962 Chevy pulled up onto the curb. Detective Knight, looking more pale than usual, rose from the driver's seat.

"You!" Ray lunged forwards toward Knight, but Mulder caught him and just barely managed to restrain him.

Knight backed away, realising with an 800 year deep sadness that he was hated and feared as a monster: and he was that monster.

-o0o-

Memorial Hospital
Toronto.

Ray sat hunched over in the blue plastic chair, arms crossed over himself, head bowed.

Mulder turned away and leant up against the wall, facing it, resting his head upon his forearm. He couldn't bear to look at the detective. He knew what he was going through, the memory was still too raw; when he'd nearly lost Scully. This was as much his fault now as it had been then, leading them all on a vampire hunt, without once explaining the dangers. His curiosity was going to get them all killed.

A soft hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped.

"Mulder, " she soothed.

He turned to face her, steeling himself to whatever truth he might find in her eyes.

There was relief there, and it flowed out from her eyes into him, filling him.

Surgical greens still rustling, she moved to sit beside Ray, sliding her hand over his.

Fearfully, he looked up.

"He's in recovery, " she assured. "We had to give him several transfusions, but he's stable now. You can see him now, if you like. He's not awake yet, but you can see him."

Ray nodded, only vaguely aware of her words. The reassurance in her eyes, her touch, was all that mattered.

Numbly, he allowed himself to be led down the corridor, like a child.

Fraser looked dead, like a corpse laid out for a wake. He lay so still, in an unnatural sleep. Scully led Ray closer, going so far as to release her hand from his, and placing Ray's hand upon Fraser's. Ray would not have dared to touch him, he looked so fragile and doll like, dark lashes rested upon skin so pale, skin that felt cool and dry to the touch. Ray's fingers curled around the familiar flesh, squeezing slightly.

"I'm sorry, " he offered, quietly.

Scully wondered what on earth Ray had to feel sorry for, but she had her own guilt ridden one to deal with, and she left the detective to his private vigil.

-o0o-

Ray slumped forward in the car again, letting his hands cover his eyes, tired of watching Ben, of looking at him, like that.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen. It wasn't how he had pictured it. Just as suddenly as it had seemed he would share his life with the man he loved more than anything, something evil had reached up out of the darkness to try and snatch him away, forever.

It wasn't fair, it couldn't be fair, to know, really know this was the person, the one, his soulmate, life mate, friend and lover, to know this in one shining instant, and then to have that person stolen away from you, piece by piece, and not be able to do a damn thing about it.

Fraser was dying. Each time those creatures came near him, he died a little more. And there was nothing Ray could do to stop them. Not prayer, not science, not the law. He was going to lose Ben: if he hadn't already.

It simply wasn't fair. Could it really have been only such a short time ago they'd been horsing around in Fraser's apartment, probably a little high on sugar and caffeine; his stoic Mountie had been whining over the sudden heatwave, he wasn't used to it, and he didn't even own a portable fan. He'd been sitting on the floor, insisting it was cooler down there, by some fraction of a degree Ray couldn't detect.

"You miss the snow and ice, huh, Benny?"

Ray grinned and stood up, striding over to Fraser's fridge he opened it, investigated the freezer for a moment, then reached in and grabbed two handfuls of ice. He kicked the door closed and turned, a mischievous, wicked smile lighting his face. "No, oh no," his Canadian friend's blue grey eyes narrowed, he shook his head, he tried to inch away across the floor from Ray's relentless steps forward, only to find himself backed against the wall.

"No, Ray, please, no-" he started, his pleas followed by a howl of protest as Ray dived upon him, straddled him, and began shoving the ice down his t-shirt, patting it down until the cotton stuck to his skin in soggy patches. He lifted his shirt a little, trying to shake what ice hadn't melted out onto the floor.

"That - that was unforgivable," he decided.

"Yeah, well sue me," snickered Ray.

The blue eyes met hazel ones.

"You do realise this calls for revenge." he added.

"Uh huh," Ray nodded, his face so very close to Ben's.

Without thinking - he didn't want to think - he leant forward and casually kissed him, full on the mouth, sealing his lips over the Mountie's, letting his hands come up to gently cup his face as he held him there, suspended for the moment as they both held their breath. He expected Fraser to just sit there, or push him away. He did not expect Fraser's mouth to open instinctively under his, and let Ray begin a slow, delicious exploration, or let his arms slide around that hard, firm body, coaxing Fraser closer against him.

Fraser really began to get into the kiss, pushing Ray back against the floor excitedly. Ray let his hands slide up and down along Fraser's arms, down to his waist where he slipped his finger's underneath to feel the soft firm skin across Fraser's rib cage and stomach. Fraser jolted, as though every touch of ray's fingertips sent electricity through him. Ray gathered the t-shirt in his fists and pulled it up over Fraser's head and threw it away savagely. He pulled Fraser down again and locked onto a hard, pink nipple, sucking frenziedly. Fraser's own hands slipped into the space between the fabric of Ray's shirt and his skin, hands moving upwards, exploring, before he, too, tore away Ray's shirt. They kissed, hungrily, as Ray worked on pulling open Fraser's jeans. He pulled the zipper down and then let his hands slide down the back, cupping and squeezing the silky smooth buttocks he found there. He pushed the jeans down further, taking with them Fraser's underwear, freeing Fraser's already hardened cock. He pulled Fraser up on top of him, pushing and kicking away the jeans, then wriggled down, his fingernails raking up and down Fraser's thighs as he took the head of Fraser's cock into his mouth. Fraser nearly slammed his dick through the back of Ray's head. It was all Ray could do not to gag. It tasted clean and soapy. Ray ran his tongue around the tip, like savouring an icecream cone. He felt Fraser's hands fumbling at his own jeans. Ray wriggled back up, as Fraser pulled the jeans away, and drew Fraser down on top of him again, his tongue taking Fraser's mouth forcibly, his hand curved around Fraser's cock and began the slow, expert squeezing down, fingertips tickling his balls. Fraser stiffened against him, and came in his hand in three thick spurts. Ray slid his hand up over Fraser's stomach, kneading the warm slippery cum into the skin. He guided Fraser's hand to his own cock, while Fraser's other hand cupped his head lovingly. Ray arched back as Fraser began to bring him off; he bit back a cry as he felt Fraser's mouth slide experimentally over the head of his cock, tasting him, sucking slightly. The hard fast strokes continued in earnest. Ray pushed himself into Fraser's hand, spilling his seed with a half moan, half grunt.

Fraser touched the warm cum on his fingertips to his tongue, tasting his lover's salty essence.

"Oh, god, Ben," Ray pulled Fraser down on top of him once more, his hands still moving anxiously over Fraser's body, he never wanted to stop feeling his skin, pressed up close and hard against him. Fraser was ready again. Ray kissed him fondly.

-o0o-

Motel Room
Toronto

Mulder slumped down in the chair wearily, his hazel eyes never leaving the rumpled, blood stained motel bed sheets.

"I screwed up, Scully," he admitted, tiredly. "I went off half cocked, chasing where angels fear to tread without even doing my research properly. I thought we were only dealing with one vampire, not three. I honestly thought vampires hunting in packs was an aberration, not the norm. I thought they were solitary creatures."

"They usually are," answered an equally weary voice from the doorway. "Bands of vampires are not uncommon, though eventually there is always a falling out among thieves. It's the nature of the beast: hungry, jealous, deadly. Vampires die more from their own kind or own hand than by human hunters; I guess it is the same for mortals."

The detective moved further into the room, surveying it as both homicide detective and preternatural hunter.

"It was another vampire, " he confirmed. "But it wasn't me."

His blue eyes were so full of sadness and shame, Scully almost felt compelled to believe him, but instead, she watched him warily, only half guessing how dangerous he truly was. It was hard to believe such an angelic face, surrounded by blonde raphaelite curls, could mask the face of a demon.

She gathered up her plastic evidence bags and inched past him; he moved aside, pretending not to notice her fear of him.

"I'll get these run through he lab. " she called to Mulder. "Then I'll call you from the hospital."

He raised a hand tiredly in acknowledgment.

-o0o-

Nick was intensely aware of Mulder's stare, following his every move across he room as he tested the window then the door. Finally, he glanced up at the ceiling.

"Well, I know how he got out, but not how he got in. The door doesn't appear to be forced."

"Maybe Fraser didn't lock it."

Nick turned. "Oh yes, The Mountie. He was from the boonies, wasn't he."

Mulder didn't like the use of the past tense, but said nothing.

"I remember when people never locked their doors, it made trespass so easy." His smile was grotesque.

Again, the scent of the blood on the bed linen caught him, and felt his fangs falling into place. Self-will forced them back.

"You want to know what it's like, Agent Mulder, being this creature, existing for centuries, the power, the hunger - " his eyes locked with Mulder's. "It is a living hell."

"Then why did you choose."

"I was drunk, afraid of my own mortality, blinded by lust. Lacroix sent Janette to lure me. My dick led me to my own damnation." he half smiled ruefully.

"Date rape with a vengeance." Mulder nodded.

"Its hard to say no to a vampire," Nick added, and then seemed lost again for several moments in painful memories, each one seemed to etch new sorrow upon his face.

"Why do you do it?"

Nick looked up at him. "What? Go on living? It's not living, it's existing. Be a cop? Trying to redeem myself the best way I know how, to renew the oaths I took as a knight and forswore. Why do you get up every morning, you're just as miserable as I."

Mulder was shocked by the insight of this stranger.

"I just do. I have to find the truth. If I find the truth - I'll find my answers."

"You should be careful what you wish for. Some answers are best left unknown, some grails unfound."

Mulder smiled. "Knight - you really were a knight, weren't you." He seemed almost amazed. "How old are you?"

"I don't age - that's the point. But I've walked this earth for close to 800 years. It's hard to keep track - they keep changing the calender on me, years drift away like seconds."

"Our lives must seem like dog years to you."

"Yes, they do." Nick answered frankly.

Mulder's cell phone beeped. It was Scully, at the hospital. Fraser was awake.

-o0o-

Memorial Hospital
Toronto
June 15th

"Can you remember anything about what happened, Ben." asked Scully softly and sweetly.

Fraser frowned and shook his head slightly.

"Mulder?" she turned to her colleague.

Mulder leant close.

"I'm going to ask you to focus here, Ben," he asked, holding up his finger, and then he stopped.

"What, " asked Scully.

Mulder straightened.

"He went straight under. Instantaneously. That's not supposed to happen - not unless you've already been hypnotised, and recently." he paused, thinking.

"Fraser, can you hear me."

"Yes."

"Was it a man who did this."

"Yes."

"The same as Chicago."

"No."

"Have you seen him before."

"Yes - at the Raven."

This brought a sharp intake of breath from Scully, and an exchange of looks. He'd been attacked at the Raven, too. She cursed herself, she should have checked. She didn't think it possible. He'd only been out of sight a minute.

"Was it Detective Knight?"

"No."

"Fraser, I want you to come out of it now."

Fraser blinked. "Was I any help?"

Mulder patted him on the shoulder.

"Of course. Rest now." he smiled.

Scully was surprised. Normally Mulder would have pushed and pushed until he had every detail, irregardless of Fraser's fragile state of health. He caught Scully's look.

"You know already, don't you." she accused softly.

"No. But I know someone who does."

He walked out into the corridor, and found Knight there as expected.

"Did he tell you anything?" Nick asked.

"Didn't have to. You know who did it."

Nick cast his eyes to the ground.

"Yes. Lacroix. My master."

"Stop him."

"I can't. Nothing stops Lacroix, least of all me." he sulked in a small voice. "I'd advise you to get out of Toronto, if I thought it would help. But I doubt it. Lacroix was going to kill you all outright, but it appears he has found a new interest."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"You shouldn't. He took an interest in me." His ocean blue eyes met Mulder's, and Mulder could see the centuries of pain and regret stained within them.

"I think Lacroix is amused at the opportunity of someone new and innocent to corrupt, just to show he can. I fell, too easily, and he'll never let me forget it."

"Can vampires mesmerise their prey?"

Nick half smiled at the sudden change of tack, snapping him out of his moroseness.

"Do you want me to give up all our secrets?" he asked, but Mulder was deadly earnest.

"Yes, we can confuse and blind our prey, unless they know the truth," he admitted.

"But Fraser, he knows."

"Ah, Lacroix is a powerful vampire, and those bitten once are always susceptible."

"Why? Because he's already been under a vampire's influence once, or does the vampire leave traces of saliva or blood in the victim's system that acts as a psychotropic drug?"

"I don't know," Nick railed in frustration. "I leave all the scientific questions to Nat... "

"Nat - who's Nat?" Mulder pounced on the name, and Nick realised he'd let another one of his friends fall into the trap.

-o0o-

Coroner's Bulding
Toronto

Natalie sensed Nick's approach, and turned; she was drawn up short by the official looking man who accompanied him. She didn't feel anymore at ease when Mulder flashed his badge at her.

"I'm investigating a series of vampire-like murders in both the United states and Canada. I'd like to ask you a few questions in relation to your studies of vampire physiology."

"Nick?" she looked to the vampire worriedly.

He smiled reassuringly, the way only he could. "Don't worry, Nat. I'm not a suspect."

"No, Detective Knight is serving as our vampire liaison officer," added Mulder, deadpan.

Scully pushed her way forward.

"I'm a medical doctor. I'd like to examine your notes for a possible cure regarding a vampire bite victim I'm currently treating.

"Bite?" again Nat looked to Nick.

"Lacroix." he shrugged.

Without a word, she handed her notebooks over to Scully.

Memorial Hospital
Toronto

Natalie was glad she had insisted on seeing the bite victim. Everytime the handsome young RCMP constable smiled her way, Natalie felt a moist warmth spread through her nether regions, something she normally only felt when Nick was around. From the way Agent Scully kept sucking on the end of her pencil, it was a fair guess he was affecting her the same way, too.

Outside, Ray and Mulder argued.

"What now?" demanded Ray, as to their next move on their, grudgingly, joint investigation.

Mulder shrugged. "Knight's female friend was little or no help. When Ben's well enough to travel, we go back to Chicago. The best place to capture a killer is on his hunting grounds."

"You mean a stake out, for a vampire?" Ray could not believe he was saying the words.

"Precisely. And according to my profile, this killer prefers a certain type of victim within a certain area. Classic serial killer profile, actually."

"Write your paper on it later. For now, I just want to get the thing that's doing this to Ben."

In his enthusiasm to prove his theories and hunt the hunter, Mulder overlooked that they, too, were being hunted.

-o0o-

Vecchio Residence
Chicago
June 17th 6.10 pm.

As Benny stepped over the threshold, the strong smell of Mrs Vecchio's cooking assailed him, almost knocking him off his feet. The aroma swept around him, inside him, making his sinuses ache, his eyes water, his head pound, his throat catch and gag and his stomach churn.

Ray caught him, dropping Ben's bag and supporting him with two hands instead of one.

"Whoa there, Benny. See, I told you you weren't well enough to leave the hospital or go back to that flat of yours alone."

Mrs Vecchio watched, arms folded, as her son helped his pale and weakening friend up the stairs to his bedroom. The house was small, and Ray had insisted that Ben sleep nowhere else but his own bed, no matter what the rest of his family thought. At least this way he could keep his family, especially Francesca, from disturbing Ben.

Ray felt Ben press back in his arms as he walked into the room. Ben saw the small crucifix above Ray's bed and fell back against the other end of the bed, unable to explain why the sight of it caused him such pain. He turned his head away, though he could still felt its presence.

"Hey, Benny, you okay? You really look bad. Should I call a doctor?"

"No, Ray," he managed to get out. All he could see was the gold cross that hung from Ray's neck.

Ray helped him up onto the bed properly. Ben flinched as the cross swung close, but Ray just thought he was being twitchy. Lovingly, Ray pushed the blanket up over him and tucked him in.

"I have to see Mulder and Scully, but I'll be back later. You rest now, okay? And don't worry, I won't let Francesca in here."

Ray turned off the bedside lamp, and Fraser seemed to visibly relax, snuggling down in the darkness to try and sleep.

From the corner of the room, Dief watched him like he was a stranger, uttering soft whimpering noises occasionally.

Vecchio Residence, June 18th, 12.05 am.

Ray bent down to kiss Ben very gently upon the forehead.

Ben moaned, waking suddenly, and Ray reached for the bed light. Instantly, he saw the reason for Ben's distress, and he pulled back in horror. His cross had left a reddish pink welt on Ben's face where it had touched his skin.

Ray noticed the cross on the wall had been knocked down onto the floor, and that Dief watched his master from across the room, not beside his bed as usual.

"Ray," Ben called, half groggily with sleep, "I'm hungry."

"Ill get you something."

"No," Ben caught his wrist. "Your mother gave me some soup before, but I couldn't keep it down."

"Maybe you can now."

He shook his head.

"I don't think so."

"How about a glass of water?"

Ben nodded weakly.

Ray returned with the glass and helped Ben to sit up and sip at it, supporting him against his shoulder, his arm around him; together on the bed.

"Ray," asked Ben, and Ray realised he'd been staring. The welt had lessened now, and was almost unnoticeable, but still there, like some mark of the devil.

"It's nothing, Benny, " he lied. "Why don't you lie down again and try and get some sleep."

"I'm not tired, Ray. I slept nearly all day."

"I know. But you're sick, you should rest."

He took the glass from Ben's hand and set it on the counter, then turned out the light. He lay down beside Ben, but did not cuddle against him, afraid for him, and afraid of him.

Ray rolled over in his sleep, and then mumbled, half awake: "Benny, get some sleep."

His friend had been lying quietly awake for hours with his forearm over his eyes.

"I can't," he murmured. "The moon's so bright."

Ray propped himself up on his elbows, still groggy with sleep.

"There's no moon tonight, Benny."

"But the room's so light."

"Must be the streetlights reflecting off the clouds. Benny, you're going to have to get used to living in the city sometime."

"I know," he sighed, miserably.

The sadness in his voice stabbed through Ray like a shaft of hot steel. He hated it when Ben was homesick. There was little he could do to ease the pain.

He slid his hand across Fraser's midriff.

"You're cold - freezing, " he remarked in horrified surprise.

He pulled the blankets up and moved closer, rubbing his hands over Ben, trying to warm him. Ray's hands rubbed down his thighs, his arm brushed against the stirring hardness. Ben caught Ray's hand and pushed it inside his boxers, guiding it, pushing his head back against the pillow as Ray pulled on him. Benny thrust his hips forward, pushing himself into Ray's hand as Ray's mouth seized his, their tongues thrusting in time; his hand fumbled for Ray, Ray moved partially on top of him as he slipped inside the silk pyjamas. Ray slid down under the bed clothes; pulling away Ben's boxer shorts to begin his work. Ben bit his lip so as not to cry out, tasting his own blood. The blood flooded in his mouth, it exploded his consciousness like a drug; it was escasty. He came. His seed flooded Ray's mouth. He tasted that as well as he pulled Ray up to kiss him roughly.

Francesca paused in the hallway, hearing the muffled grunts and the rustling of sheets. No, she shook her head sleepily, just a bad dream she thought as she padded on her way to the bathroom.

Ray ran his fingers through Ben's short dark hair. Ben's eyes were bright, he was still panting slightly, holding his breath as Ray sought out his mouth again for the briefest of moments.

"I was so scared I would lose you," he murmured against his lover.

"I know, Ray." Ben replied quietly. He could still taste his own blood on his lips, it worked like an aphrodisiac. He wanted more of Ray, and sought out his mouth again, sliding his tongue inside. He moved down to suckle at his throat, sucking harder and harder, Ray's head rolled back, abandoning himself to the sensation, he felt Benny nip at the skin, and moaned softly in escasty, then suddenly pushed him away as he felt his teeth press harder.

"What?" asked Ben, still aroused and suddenly annoyed at Ray's rejection.

"Not that, I don't like that. " Ray tried to explain, not very convincingly.

They broke apart, coldly, distrustfully. Ray rolled over, and lay with his back to Fraser. Fraser himself resumed lying awake, flat on the bed, his arm covering his eyes.

-o0o-

Motel Room
Chicago
June 18th 9.27 pm.

Scully pushed the motel door open, and was taken aback by Mulder preening himself in front of the mirror, dressed like, well, dressed like that. He ran the wet comb through his hair again, brushing it forward so he didn't look so much like a Fed with a $5 haircut. He wore a tight white t-shirt that seemed to draw the eye to the buds of his nipples that could seen pressing against the material, and jeans that accentuated the curve of his buttocks so nicely that it took Scully's breath away. It was amazing what a smidgin of effort could do, she realised, and how little he must care most times. He was definitely man bait now.

He stood and modelled the outfit for her, grinning awkwardly.

Scully gave him the once over, like a drill sergeant.

"You could come along as a fag hag." he offered.

She shook her head demurely.

"No, thanks. You make it sound like so much fun. I think I'll just spell Ray in the car."

"Suit yourself." shrugged Mulder, having last minute doubts about trusting his life to Knight.

-o0o-

Mulder pushed his earring into place. A single drop of blood oozed from the hole.

Nicolas leant close and took the earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it. Mulder tilted his head back, almost dizzy at the sensation, instantly aroused, fully. He closed his eyes and moaned softly as Nick's sucking grew stronger.

Nick's fangs fell into place; he forced himself to pull away, turning to the bar and leaning heavily upon it, hunched over, forcing the hunger down.

"Nick." Mulder placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder. Nick shut his eyes tight, knowing they glowed an unearthly blood red, the hunger pounding throughout him.

"No, " he hissed. "Can't do this."

He struggled for self control and grabbed hold of it, desperately. He pushed himself up of the bar, his face drawn and tight.

"You're hungry." Mulder observed. "When did you last feed."

"Six hours ago." He saw Mulder's face. "I bought some blood from a butcher - pigs blood."

Mulder, who would have given himself so willingly seconds before seemed shaken to remember the monster that lurked within the handsome detective.

"Well, if you want to entrap our man, you'd better get out there." Nick nodded to the darkened dance floor, the steaming swaying crowd of humanity occasionally stabbed by strobes of light.

"Okay, just let me know if one of your kind turns up. Undercover I may be, but not a tethered goat. Vecchio, can you read me?"

"I read you." muttered Ray glumly over the radio from the front seat of his Riv. He was hunched over, arms folded, cold, bored and miserable.

-o0o-

Mulder leant wearily upon the tiny, sticky, formica clad table.

"I hate this," he moaned. "My arse is gonna be black and blue for a
month. If I get goosed just one more time."

"I know," sympathised Nick. "I could go a couple of centuries never hearing the Pet Shop Boys again."

Mulder glanced up, a smile twitching his lips, realising that Knight could just do that.

Nick was studying Mulder; his eyes had a very far away look. Almost unthinking, he reached forward and touched his fingertip to Mulder's cheek, trailing it down, following the jawline, feeling with his heightened senses the sharp blades of beard that were growing in. He drew his finger up to those lips, feeling the soft flesh of that pouting lower lip.

Mulder touched the tip of his tongue to that finger, then sucked, ever so slightly.

Nick felt every nerve cell in his being come alive. The hunger clawed up, screaming for release. Instead, he pulled back, but Mulder caught his hand.

-o0o-

Ray spun around, and was startled to see Ben standing there, in the night club, dressed like live bait, looking healthy and hungry.

"Ben?"

Ray couldn't help but staring. The last time he'd seen Ben, he'd been sick and pale in bed.

Now, here he was, robust and healthy, in the middle of this nightclub, and not unnoticed. The fabric of his t-shirt stretched over his for; his jeans fitted snugly, tight over his thighs, leaving little to the imagination. His neck was raw, even bleeding a little, but his eyes, they were so intense, holding him in an unrelenting thrall. The whole club watched as the impossibly beautiful Canadian bobbed forward and gently touched his lips to the Italian's.

"Benny, what are you doing out of bed?" he demanded.

"Where's Fox?" Ben asked, almost dreamily.

Ray shrugged. "I dunno. He said he was going for a break and turned off his mike. I came in here, but I can't find either of them."

"I wouldn't worry." Ben smiled, mysteriously. His eyes held Ray, the way only his eyes ever could. He wanted Ray, and Ray could never refuse.

"I parked the Riv out back," Ray agreed. The only thing that could ever distract Ray from his duties was Benny, and this was a hot and ready Benny.

"Let the Fed take care of himself," grinned Ray, not even listening to himself.

-o0o-

Mulder was drunk, giddy under the influence of the vampire; helpless, crazy, the slightest caress by the vampire, the brush of his breath, the fire in his eyes. Nick revelled in it, luring Mulder into the back room with him, so long , so very long it had been since he had last seduced his prey, allowed himself to revel in the dark sexuality of his vampire nature. Mulder had given himself up to the devil, and was now powerless to break the spell of an 800 year old vampire, even if he wanted to. Nick brought Mulder to the floor, knelling together, acutely aware of his male smell, the taste and texture of his flesh, the arteries pumping blood underneath. Not yet, he schooled himself. As gently as a lover, he removed Mulder's shirt, pulling it over his head and flinging it away, abandoned. In his minds eye, Nick saw himself in the lush courting rooms of some of the finer brothels in Europe, in a time long since past, not a seedy, filthy fuck room in the back of a nightclub.

Mulder was seduced by the power of the vampire. Nick was eternal strength, eternal crusader, Mulder saw what he could have. The power to beat all those who plotted against him. Nick found it impossible resist a willing Mulder. Kneeling on the floor together, Mulder gave himself up to Nick, tilting back his head, offering up his throat to the vampire who kissed and caressed him. Nick rubbed his lips over the skin of Mulder's chest, feeling the heart beat beneath the skin, pressed his mouth to Mulder's still warm mouth, then bowed his head and, letting his fangs fall into place at long last, sealed his mouth over Mulder's throat, feeling the throbbing artery underneath, then pierced the skin. Mulder cried out as the sharp fangs penetrated him, his hot blood spurting into Nick's mouth, filling it as he swallowed greedily. He moaned as the rhythmic sucking began in time with his heart beat. Fully aroused, he wrapped his arms tightly against Knight, pressing against him, rocking against him as Nick drank.

On the verge of coming, Mulder rose up and bit hard into Nick's neck, grinding his pelvis against Nick's, shooting his load. Nick was lost to the escasty, their blood flowing in an unbroken circuit, the flood of emotions passed between them for a second before Nick broke free, tearing Mulder away.

With a cry, he forced down the beast again, unable, unwilling to complete the task.

Take him, he heard Lacroix whisper in his mind. Take him!

Nick covered his eyes, blocking out the alluring sight of Mulder lying supine and abandoned upon the bare floorboards of the backroom, pale skin smeared red with the trickle of blood that spilled from the bite close to his shoulder.

Mulder moaned softly in disapointment before slipping into unconsciousness.

-o0o-

The Riv rumbled to a halt. They got out of the car, but neither of them wanted to leave the privacy of the garage just yet. The hunger that had infected them in the night club still burned.

Ray perched on the still warm bonnet, catching Benny's hand and pulled his Mountie close. Smiling, he slid his hands up those magnificent forearms, up and over his shoulders, down the planes of his chest, down across his hard abdomen to rub his palm firmly against the obvious bulge in his lover's jeans. Ben smiled like a cat, almost purring, the corner's of his mouth twitching upwards. Ray loved that smile, those lips. Ben never once broke eye contact as he bowed down to press those lips against Ray's in a deep, penetrating kiss.

Fraser's fingertips softly massaged the back of Ray's neck as his tongue pushed deeply into his mouth. He was hungry, and demanding. He pushed Ray back down, sprawling him across the bonnet diagonally; he climbed up on top, pinning his lover there. They rubbed and touched against each other; Ben's hard shaft almost carving a channel down Ray's abdomen. He wanted it badly, his own tongue almost choking Ray, his fingers frantically unbuttoning Ray's shirt. He pushed the material aside and locked onto a nipple, biting softly and sucking while he pinched at the other, then rising up to suck upon Ray's mouth, his Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat, his earlobe, the tip of his nose, his nipples again.

Ray covered his eyes with his hands, titling his head back, lost in sensation as Benny assaulted his nerve endings, over and over. Benny slid his hot mouth over Ray's fingertips, sucking each one in turn, then collectively, the gentle pressure and silky slickness a taste of things to come. Ray moaned, undulating, clutching at the Mounties short dark hair, letting his hands run patterns through the > delicious feeling sharpedged, silky hair.

He felt his belt being loosened, his zipper being pulled down, his underwear pushed aside, and then the soft brush of Benny's skin against his, as soft as the air that brushed against his exposed genitals. Then he was engulfed in wet heat, Ben's tongue circling the tip, squeezing juice from his manhhood. Ray thrust forward with his hips, pushing into Ben's strong, clever fingers and his wicked tongue. He spilled his seed into his lover with a choking cry. His golden cross fell down his back, hidden. Ben sat up and straddled him again, lying down on top of him, hugging him. Ray was near insensible; Ben began rocking against him, hips grinding into his own, thrusting harder and harder. He felt Ray's hand snake down and rub against the hard rod that pressed against his jeans, up and down, harder and harder, squeezing his balls through the fabric, and he came, hot and sticky, creaming in his jeans.

Ben quietened a little, lapping at his throat. Ray's hand slid down his own shaft, still slick with saliva and semen. Carefully, he zipped up his trousers, thinking of a change of venue. He sat up, pulling Ben up with him, licking the salt from his skin as Ben licked his. Ben dotted Ray's chest with lazy kisses, his fingers following the delicious line of dark hair that led directly to his groin.

"I want you, he murmured. "I want to feel inside of you." he whispered lowly in Ben's ear. He pushed his tongue into Ben's waiting mouth.

The fluorescent lights above them blinked on; Ben tore away from Ray with a cry, shielding his eyes with his arm.

Ray glared at his sister venomously.

"Shut the damn light off, Francesca," he demanded, his eyes almost murderous.

"Alright, jeez." she muttered, snapping the switch, plunging the garage into darkness again, under the cover of which Ray slid a comforting arm around Ben.

"What are you doing down here, anyway."

"Talking. In private. Go away." said Ray in that childishly petulant voice reserved for resentments between siblings. They might as well be children, fighting over who got to be friends with Ben.

"Fine. Have your little boys only club." she sniffed, and stalked off.

The garage was lightening with the soft blue haze of the coming dawn, filtering through the tiny dirt smudged windows against the far wall. Ray could see the life draining out of Ben, the spark dulling in his eyes, the sickness returning. Minute by minute, Ben would grow weaker, until he almost needed Ray's support to climb the stairs. The blood loss wore heavily upon him, especially now that the sexual urge that had driven him had dissolved. Under the grey half light, Ray swore he could see Ben's skin pale, the smudge under his eyes darken. Was it his imagination, or were the eyeteeth that had grazed so deliciously against his flesh sharper, more pointed. God, how could he be seeing these things in his own friend. And the bite marks, which had been raw and red, even open in the dark night club, now seemed small, white and closed, no longer weeping small droplets of sticky, darkly coagulated blood.

-o0o-

The soft pink light of dawn flooded the room and sapped what was left of Ben's strength. He hung heavily off Ray, almost stumbling to make it the last few feet.

Ray tipped Ben into the bed, his gold cross swinging forward into Ben's face. Ben shied away, eyes screwed tight shut.

"I told you you weren't well enough to be in on the operation," Ray tut tutted softly. Ben offered no resistance, no argument, in stark contrast to the man who had thrown him back across the bonnet of the Riv. Ray just didn't want to think about what was going on. Idly, he fingered his gold crucifix.

"Benny, why were you at the club tonight?"

Ben looked away from Ray's eyes to stare at the ceiling.

"I was feeling better. I wanted to help."

"You wanted me."

"Yeah, " he admitted, uncharacteristically ashamed.

Ray stared across the floor at the wolf, who still refused to sit by his master's side.

"What's going on, Ben?" he asked.

Ben didn't answer.

Ray choked back his dark fears again and drew the blinds for the comfort of his friend. He was sure he had left them drawn when he'd left the evening before.

Ben shifted uncomfortably on the bed, a little life returning to him as he wriggled and shucked his way out of his jeans under the sheets. Such modesty, after what he had done to Ray down in the garage. The hot and heady spell had been well broken between them.

He snuggled down a little more comfortably, and looked up at Ray, blue grey eyes wide and innocent.

"You told Francesca we were talking, but we hardly do that anymore."

Ray sat down on the bed, thoughts of screwing Ben now buried. Leaning over, he kissed him softly on the forehead.

"Sure we do. Just lately you've been sick and I've been busy." Ray looked around his room angrily.

"God, I hate this case. I've always been afraid of the dark, afraid of the monsters that lurk there. Afraid of what they could do -" he screwed his hand up into a fist. "I've met human monsters, human vampires, but I didn't need to know there were really things like this."

"Shutting your eyes doesn't mean its not there, Ray. That only works when you're six."

"I know. This whole thing is a nightmare, and the only way well be free is to kill it."

"You don't have to do it for me."

"Yeah, Ben, I have to." he smiled bloodlessly, and stood. "I better go and check in with Scully." he shrugged.

-o0o-

Motel carpark
Chicago
June 19th 7.45 am.

Someone was tapping on the window. Mulder jerked awake, to see Scully, asnd Vecchio standing behind her with an overly smug grin.

"Late night?" he taunted.

"Did you sleep in your car?" Scully demanded, concerned.

Mulder sat forward, and wished he hadn't. He remembered being bought a couple of drinks during the night, he must have drunk something really nasty.

"Mulder, you look really bad, " said Scully, in the understatement of the century. He was unshaven, dishevelled and had terrible, dark circles under his eyes, not to mention what felt like the hangover from hell.

"Where's Knight?" she persisted.

"Curled up in his coffin," grinned Ray.

Vecchio didn't look much better, but he at least had had the benefit of a shave, a shower, and some coffee.

"You better get some sleep, Mulder." Scully decided.

"Yeah, this stake out is gonna kill me." he agreed.

-o0o-

Somewhere in Chicago
2.19 am, June 20.

Ray sat slumped back in his car seat, head tilted back, fallen into an exhausted sleep, the third night of their stake out seemingly even longer than the previous nights.

Empty candy wrappers and coffee cups littered the passenger seat from his futile attempts to keep himself awake.

The music in his earphone faded as Mulder left the night club, shaking his head to get some air and regain his hearing.

Mulder was tired, more tired than he'd been in a long time. He began to walk up the dark, empty sidewalk, confident that somewhere, Knight watched over him. He tried to shove his hands in the pockets of his tight jeans, to protect them from the cold. The sheen of sweat on his skin made the cold wind that was channelled down the city canyon even colder. Funny how cold and dark it could get at three in the morning. And quiet.

He never heard a sound, only the wind. Suddenly, strong arms had wrapped around him and he felt himself being lifted up and dragged into the alley, and he was powerless to struggle.

"Be calm, little one." a silky voice commanded him softly in French.
The command was hypnotic. Mulder felt the strength flood from his body. Unable to resist, he felt himself being caught up in those hard arms, and kissed by cruel, cold lips before the mouth of the monster closed upon his throat and began to tear the flesh open. He felt the sexual urge rip through him, and he came with a choking sigh as his blood was sucked from him.

"Lacroix! Release him! Now!"

Nick stood in the alley way, no longer Nick, but the vampire, his eyes glowing, ready for the fight.

Lacroix merely glanced at him with the vague annoyance of having his dinner interrupted.

"And why should I do that?" he asked wearily. "Is this something of yours." he taunted, holding the now limp Mulder in one fist by the scruff of his neck like a dead kitten.

"Let him go," Nick demanded, stepping closer purposefully.

"Say please, " Lacroix grinned. "Really, Nicolas, where are your manners."

He let Mulder drop onto the ground like a sack of wet cement, and glided over to land directly before Nicolas.

Rather than striking his protege, he read up to caress his cheek, almost tenderly.

"My Nicolas, you do grow so attached to these mortals. Didn't you have enough pets when you were a boy."

"Leave them alone." Nick growled.

Lacroix's eyes glowed brightly.

"And what will you give me, my little one, in return. "

Nick studied his master carefully, his eyes betraying nothing. For the second time in his life, he made a pact with the devil. Sparing two souls, he hoped that god would look down kindly upon him.

"Me." he answered.

His single word actually stunned Lacroix, who was speechless for a second.

"Well, my dear boy, " he gloated. "It would appear you have come to your senses at last."

"No. This is my bargain, Lacroix. My life, for theirs. Take it or leave it."

Lacroix smiled, wolfishly.

"Why, my Nicolas, how could I possibly refuse?"

Ray jerked awake at a sudden noise. Something had thudded against his car, and then was gone. A second later he realised he couldn't hear anything coming over Mulder's mike. Nada. Not a thing.

"Oh shit, " he cursed. "Shit shit shit shit," he continued as he scrabbled for his flashlight. He drew his gun and steeled himself to get out of the car.

"Shit shit shit" he kept muttering his mantra as he walked slowly along the sidewalk, playing his flashlight into every dark corner.

"Mulder - Knight - oh, shit shit shit."

He swung his torch down a small alley. For a moment, he thought it was a show room dummy, so white was the skin. Then he realised it was Mulder.

He reached into his pocket for his cell phone.

"SCully, we've got a situation here."

-o0o-

"Nicolas, " Lacroix let the syllables slide softly from his tongue. "The sun will be rising soon." He warned gently, the sky above them already lightening.

"Good." Nicolas answered coldly, staring directly at the coming dawn.

"Ah. One final act of defiance, eh, Nicolas?" smiled Lacroix, walking so softly to stand immediately behind him.

He reached out, to caress Nick's cheek ever so tenderly. Nick was torn between flinching away or moving into the caress, accepting.

"Nicolas, you bring such pain upon yourself, and why?" Lacroix lamented, his thumb gently stroking the back of Nicolas's neck.

"You made me a promise, " he reminded.

"Oui, " Nick admitted, wistfully, turning slowly to face his master at last.

Lacroix reached up, his touch like a cold caress of breeze against Nick's cheek as he tilted his head gently to one side, observing the faint marks upon Nick's throat where Mulder had bitten him, the bite that had almost lost Nick to the wild over throes of animal passion. Lacroix merely smiled. He let his hand slide over Nick's shoulder, then down the small of his back, nudging him close. Nick's sweet face rose in anticipation of the kiss which Lacroix bestowed upon him, almost filial at first, then, deepening as their lips allowed each other trespass. Nick's arms encircled Lacroix, offering himself up in the kiss. Lacroix's free hand slipped down between Nick's flesh and his jeans, squeezing the buttock, then slipping down further to tease most wickedly. Nick nearly slammed up against Lacroix, like he'd been shocked with a jolt of electricity. Nick's erection dug into Lacroix, rubbing, so good, against Lacroix's own.

"Not so fast. my eager young pup," Lacroix mocked him tenderly.

Nick's eyes were golden, his fangs had fallen into place. He was hungry, in spite of himself.

"It's good to see your appetite has returned, Nicolas, " Lacroix teased.

"I never lost my appetite. I only denied it, " Nick replied thickly, his arms snaking up Lacroix's back under his long coat. Nick pulled the material up and away in frustration, desperate to feel the cold hard flesh underneath. Jeanette would never let him be so rough, lest she feel he took her for a whore. Lacroix liked him like this. Nick's hands flew to the front of Lacroix's shirt, catching his finger on the small silver sword Lacroix wore in his collar. Lacroix caught Nick's hand, and, gazing intently at his lover, took Nick's finger delicately into his mouth, licking the drops of blood with quiet relish, his tongue swirling around Nick's fingertip, then sucking, gently, tongue still working, intimating a promise of things to come. Nick began to deftly unbutton Lacroix's shirt with his free hand. Lacroix sucked again, and Nick gave in finally, completely, to his baser needs and tore at the fabric, pulling it aside to rake his fingers down the marble white chest. Lacroix tangled his hand in Nick's blonde hair, pressing Nick's head against his chest, his other hand still sliding down between Nick's buttocks. He teased and teased before pushing into Nick's cool wetness. Nick groaned, his teeth grazing Lacroix's throat, but not breaking the skin. He rocked back on Lacroix, wanting it. He was still deliciously tight, Lacroicx mused, Nick had not been a virgin, the right of his conversion. His fair looks had made him fair game, moreso when he had gone off to war. But the brutal, boorish rutting by a bunch of cross wielding louts had not prepared him for an initiation by a Roman who'd made a study of pleasure in his time.

"You are hungry, aren't you, " Lacroix hissed in his young lover's ear. He nipped the lobe, his own fangs falling into place.

Lacroix pushed his wayward son down onto his knees, holding him with only one hand, his ancient, vice like grip enough to hold a starved and weakened Nicolas. Nicolas could hear the soft snarl behind him, could imagine the yellow eyes, burning with obsession, desire, fangs bare, ready. He struck with the speed of a cobra, his teeth penetrating the still soft flesh of his errant lover's throat.

Nick groaned, arching back, as Lacroix's arm snaked around his waist, pinning him back against his master.

Their slow heartbeats joined in cadence, beating in time as the blood flowed from him, drawn into Lacroix.

Lacroix ended the kiss, licking the lobe of Nick's ear, like a cat. With one hand, he still held him, while the other tore away at the cloth between them, uncaring of it's material worth. He pulled Nick up to him again, biting him just below the shoulder blades, one hand around Nick's throat, the other sliding down his hard stomach. Almost playfully, he took tiny nips down along Nick's spine, forcing him against the floor. He had him pinned. He lay along him, his cold breath whispering cruel torments in his child's ear, licking deliciously at the wounds he had made upon Nick's throat and spine.

Nick screwed his eyes tight shut, hands balled into fists, knowing what was to come. Lacroix pushed into him without ceremony, taking him, like any ordinary possession, like a common slave boy. Nick hissed, and Lacroix bit down on him again, then rose up, slamming into him. Lacroix allowed himself the luxury of losing himself in Nicolas, the taste of his blood, his memories, his soul, his flesh. Nick no longer struggled. Lacroix knew he would submit, as he always did, as he always had. Their lovemaking had not always been so onesided, but it had been a long time. Poor Nicolas, even after 800 years, Lacroix knew him better than Nicolas ever would.

Lacroix lay alongside Nick, kissing, licking, tasting his skin, murmuring softly, caressing him tenderly before the hunger, the sense and taste of his Nicolas overwhelmed him again, and Nicolas's stoic unresponsiveness angered him. He rose up and bit him again, sinking his teeth hard into Nicolas' jugular, drinking deeply.

He drew back, his lips sticky and wet with Nicolas's blood.

"You want to know what its like to be a mortal, you want to be weak," Lacroix hissed, his fangs tearing at Nick's throat. Nick grunted through gritted teeth, feeling the pain as his blood was drained from him. Lacroix could kill him, like this, but that was too easy. No, Lacroix would let him live, teach him a lesson, to wait until Nicolas came crawling back to him, begging for both the blood and forgiveness.

"Oh, Nocolas," Lacroix murmured sadly, stroking his golden hair, disappointed. He had expected more of a struggle, more anger, more pleasure in the taking.

Nick was barely conscious, barely aware as he felt Lacroix finally leave him. His eyes snapped open, yellow.

-o0o-

Ray threw down the Riv keys onto the table and switched on the bedside light. Ben winced, shielding his eyes. Ray took out his gun and slammed it down on the table, not unloading the clip as per usual practice. His whole manner was off-key. Something had happened. Ben sat up slowly, studying his friend as he stomped about the room.

"I tried to call you, but you never answered.

"I turned my phone off. I didn't want to talk to anyone."

"Ray, what is it," he asked at last, patiently. "Did something go wrong?"

"Yeah, you could say that, Benny," he snarled. "Something did go wrong. Mulder's in intensive care. They don't know if he'll pull through -" Ray slumped down on the edge of the bed, his whole body bent over with the weight of his anguish.

"I screwed up. I screwed up big time, Benny." he barely whispered.

His lover's hand slid gently up his arm to rest upon his shoulder.

"How can you say that, Ray. You were only his back up -"

"Yeah. Some back up. I fell asleep."

"You hadn't slept in days. What about Nick? Where was he?"

"God only knows. Or perhaps not. It doesn't matter. I screwed up."

Scully turned suddenly, terror arcing through her heart from the slight touch on her shoulder.

It was Knight. She glared at him with all the hate and accusation she could muster.

"How dare you show your face here - after what you did -"

"I saved him. It wasn't Vecchio's fault. It was mine," Knight admitted.

Ben enfolded him in his arms, pressing his lips to the back of his neck.

"No," Ray shrugged his way out of the embrace and stood, pacing the room with a wild, nervous energy.

Ben sank back into the bed. The dawn was coming, and he was weakening. Already the dark circles under his eyes were deepening.

"Where's Dana," he asked, weakly.

"Still at the hospital."

"You should be with her," Ben prodded gently. "Fox is her partner. She cares for him, very much." he added, pointedly.

Ray paced a little more, absorbing the idea.

"You'll be okay?" he asked at last.

"Yes, Ray."

Ray studied him carefully. He seemed to be growing paler by the second. The wound on his neck was red, raw and bleeding.

"What happened to that?" asked Ray, tapping his own throat.

"It was itching, so I scratched it." answered Ben, staring dully at a spot on the wall directly behind Ray's shoulder.

"Well, don't scratch it."

Ray bobbed to kiss him on the forehead.

"Bye, love," he murmured.

Ben's blue grey eyes seemed to burn with an intensity the rest of him lacked.

"Don't blame yourself for this, Ray. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, right," he muttered.

"It wasn't Vecchio's fault," Nick repeated. "Lacroix put him to sleep, lured me away with a trail of false clues. I'm sorry - I must seem like a moron to you. You'd think after 800 years, I'd learn. He plays me like a violin. He knows me better than I know myself. He set us up. I'm so sorry."

"Why didn't you stay with Mulder?"

"I had to go with Lacroix."

"Had to -" She suddenly realised the meaning of his words. "You offered yourself in Mulder's place?"

He bowed his head.

"I had no choice. I have to go. I just wanted to make sure Mulder was alright. I never, never meant for this to happen." The feelings could not be hidden in his voice. Love, anger, shame. He'd fallen for Mulder, and been punished for it.

Nicolas touched the cold plane of glass, feeling the imperfections in it's smoothness, staring through it to the weak figure who lay beyond in a critical condition.

"I never meant for this to happen, " he whispered, in tones so low that Scully could barely hear him. "I never meant to -- to love him - -"

"Mulder?" Scully turned, hardly believing the words she caught.

Nick's eyes drilled into hers.

"Don't worry, he won't remember. None of it. That at least, I gave him."

Nick's eyes burned the image of Mulder on his memory. In biting him, Mulder had given himself up to Nick's control. Nick had used that power to make Mulder forget.

His eyes fell on the dark red bag of blood that fed Mulder. He could smell it, feel it pulling him. Uncontrolled, his fangs fell into place, his eyes reverting to their animal like state.

Scully looked up and barely stifled a scream. He was a monster, but he just stood there, looking at her, not as food, but pleading for pity. He was so deathly pale, and she saw, for the first time, the deep red bite on his throat. It tore half way around his neck, a violent and possessive wound, like the way a lion bites at it's lover's neck when it mounts -- oh, god. Lacroix, she realised. No wonder Nick was pale, weak, defeated.

A single red blood tear fell from his eye onto his cheek, rolling down the marble like flesh slowly, taking an eternity to leave it's thin dried trail behind.

She understood. An 800 tear old vampire could cry, he could feel love, he could offer mercy, he could sacrifice himself. What a unique creature this was, a soulless monster with a conscience.

"Can I get you some blood?" she asked, controlling her voice to sound as casual as offering him a Bud.

He nodded, silently.

"Will Lacroix, will he let you keep your job?"

Nick shrugged, eyes still glowing.

"That would be asking a 2,000 year old vampire to accept a modern marriage. For now, its enough for him to have me at his beck and call." He glanced down, ashamed. He had fought, he had tried. He wondered if Nat would ever understand.

"I have to go back Toronto." he seemed so defeated Scully could actually feel pity for him. This was a dangerous creature, appearing so human and vulnerable.

-o0o-

Mulder was vaguely aware of someone sitting in a chair beside him, and it wasn't Scully. On the contrary, he was aware of a masculine smell. He forced his eyes to focus; it was hard to adjust to the harsh hospital lights, and he felt drugged.

"We thought you were going to check out on us, kid," observed a fondly gruff voice. "You walked into it like a rookie. These aren't your average FBI suspects, you know. Sting operations won't work - you're tracking predators; you of all ppeople should know better."

"Please, I'll get enough of a bagging from Skinner over this as it is." He woke himself up a little further.

"Did you come to gloat," he asked.

"No. I've been following your work."

"I know, I followed yours."

"Not well enough. These are vampires you're dealing with. You should know the legends..."

"I leave the folklore and anthropology to a colleague of mine -"

"Ravenwood? I've read her work. You should listen to her. The stories serve as a warning and a guide. Vampires exist. The stories tell you how to deal with them. You need crucifixes and ash stakes. Not handcuffs and Miranda."

"I guess so. How did you get in here," Mulder suddenly asked, sizing up the man who appeared like an overgrown leprechaun in a cheap suit and a battered straw hat.

"Sent your pretty young associate on a fool's errand. She'll be cross when she gets back."

Mulder grinned.

His visitor stood up and dropped a largish book on vampire lore in his lap.

"I think you could use this."

"Yeah," Mulder admitted. He looked up at his guest, who was leaving.

"Thanks, Carl."

Kolchak's face creased into an impish grin. "Keep at it, Kid. The real story is always there, somewhere. And when you find it, drop me a call, okay?"

Mulder nodded, holding the book like a thing to be cherished, which it was. This rumpled, embittered figure was one of the men who had inspired him upon his quest.

Kolchak ducked out of the room, beating Scully's return by mere seconds. And she wasn't happy, either, as he'd predicted.

Vecchio residence
June 24th.

The loungeroom of Ray's house had been converted, briefly, to a war room. Mulder was holding court, but he was still a bit punchy and tired from his vampire bite, making it difficult to maintain his dour and serious veneer and any degree of coherency. Scully's attempts to co-chair the meeting were met with either withering sarcasm from Mulder, near hysteria from Ray, or stoic silence from Fraser.

"Thank you, George, " Mulder quipped, in response to her latest suggestion.

"Dick, " Scully shot back, as fast as lightning. Her expression was fiercely playful and yet vindictive. Mulder didn't know if she was acknowledging a familiarity with the works of Enid Blyton, calling him a dick, or both. Nevertheless, the both glanced over to Dief, and grinned (Mulder almost maniacally).

"We're staking out a vampire. I don't believe I said that." muttered Ray.

-o0o-

Ray tested the cross bow once more. He really couldn't believe he'd let Benny talk him into this. Somehow Ben had managed to bat those blue eyes and convinced them all that using him as a tethered goat would bring in their tiger - in this case - the vampire they were hunting.

Knight had gone back to Toronto, with the promise that Lacroix would no longer be a problem. Ray didn't want to think about what Knight had offered as his part of the bargain.

"You're sure this will work?" he asked of Mulder again.

"Ash stake through the heart. So long as you can aim straight, yes. Unless you want to do it up close and personal."

"No thanks. So this Van Helsing person - "

"Kolchak."

"Kolchak, whatever, he swears by this method of despatching vampires?"

"He'd stake his reputation on it, " Mulder grinned quirkily.

"We're staking our lives, Benny's especially," Ray replied peevishly. "Just how many vampires has he killed, and where is this Kolchak person, anyway?"

"He'll be here. He wants to get photos."

Ray suddenly straightened and turned on Mulder.

"You mean he's a reporter? Oh jeez..." he started.

Mulder held up his hand to silence him. Ben was speaking to him over his earpiece.

Some sixth sense of Fraser's was raising all the hairs on his scalp. He could feel the vampire stalking him. Even at a distance, he knew he was there, watching, waiting, in the shadows.

He quickened his step a little. He must lead the vampire into their trap, into the kill zone.

The vampire watched him, eyes glowing. His prey was trying to outsmart him. It would make the kill even more delicious.

The vampire was on him before he could even cry out.

Ray saw Mulder stiffen at the sudden muffled noise over the mike, and was off at a run before the Fed could say anything.

He saw the vampire, Benny clutched tight against him, tearing open his throat, drinking deeply of the thick red juices that flowed up from within.

Ray aimed and fired on the run.

-o0o-

The vampire ripped its teeth free as the shaft of the cross bow penetrated through it, piercing its heart, pushing through the vampire's body to bury itself in Ben's, like a hideous shish kebab. Locked together in death, Ben was all too aware of the vampire's struggles as Mulder caught hold of it, grabbing its hair in his fist and slicing Fraser's hunting knife through its throat. Blood spayed out over Ben in a thick stream as the knife all but severed the head on the first stroke, and completed the decapitation upon the second. The headless vampire clawed at Ben desperately as Mulder splashed lighter fluid over it. He pulled it away from Ben, thinking the vampire only held him, threw the body to the ground and tossed a lighted matchbook from the Raven onto the writhing corpse. An unholy howl issued from the vampire's severed larynx as the flames consumed it, its flesh withering to blackened bones that twitched in the flames until they crumpled to dust.

Ben fell back in shock as the ash stake was ripped from him. He sank down to his knees, then fell over, backwards, in a dead faint; crumpling to the ground, arms outstretched, he lay there, Christlike, as he slowly bled to death.

Ray stood, cross bow hanging slackly in his hand, as he watched the flames engulf the vampire.

"And no one thought to bring marshmallows, " quipped Mulder.

Scully knelt beside Ben, and suddenly realised, to her horror, not all the blood that covered him was the creature's.

"Oh, God," she tore open his shirt, exposing the gaping hole in his chest.

Ben stared up at her with unseeing blue eyes, his chest shuddering with pained, rapid breaths. The stake had torn a hole in his chest. She could see his heart moving, beating, through the torn open gash in his chest. Then, horribly, the wound seemed to pucker and close over of its own accord, as the skin knitted together. She watched, overcome with scientific fascination as the bleeding actually slowed, the wound almost seemed to be closing by itself.

"Oh, my god," she exclaimed again, fingering the crucifix that
dangled from her throat.

Ray looked towards Ben at last, the cross bow sliding from his hand to clatter to the ground. He saw Ben, as if seeing him for the first time, lying upon the ground, soaked in blood, blue eyes staring up at the sky as he seemed to tremble with cold.

Scully looked from Fraser to Ray, and felt for him. He had the battle weary expression of a man who had seen too much, a man pushed way past his limits. He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, tired of it all.

"Is he alive?" he asked dully, dispassionately.

"Yes, but he needs a hospital."

Ray said nothing as he watched Fraser struggle for life on the cold wet ground.

Mulder watched the flames.

"We killed a man."

"He was a killer," reaffirmed Ray.

"And he would have killed again if it hadn't been for us meddling kids and our dog, " Mulder agreed flippantly, his dark humour masking the darker feelings that lurked within.

Mulder glanced down at the blood on his hands. He'd killed, in cold blood. He never really thought he had it in him, to take a life so deliberately. He tried to wipe the blood from his hands. Who would have thought the old man had so much blood in him. He sank down on the ground limply, staring at the thick dark blood that covered all of them. He was a murderer now, as much as the man he had sought to destroy. He hung his head, gathering up his knees like a sullen child.

Ray kicked at the ashes, scattering them slightly with his shoe.

"You have the right to remain silent," he sneered. "Anything you say can and will be taken down and used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford one, the court will appoint one for you..."

-o0o-

From his vantage point, high atop the city roof, Lacroix watched his little tableau play out. His game had begun more out of boredom than of spite, and it had far surpassed his expectations.

Landing gently at the crime scene, Lacroix knelt, picking up a fine handful of ash and letting it fall between his fingers.

Alas, poor Georgiou, he smiled. The foolish fop had been so desperate to ingratiate himself to Lacroix, to supplant Nicolas in Lacroix's affections.

Lacroix's little game had turned out so well, the players had performed their parts to perfection, the irritating Georgiou was dead, and Lacroix had Nicolas, bound to his side once more. Alls well that ends well, he thought, whimsically.

-o0o-

Ray never visited Ben in the hospital. He went to church. And when that didn't help, he went to work.

Fraser opened his dark circled eyes a crack, focusing on the dark clothed male figure he was already aware of, leaning by his hospital bed.

"Shouldn't you be back in DC?" he rasped.

"Probably. But I couldn't go until I was sure you were okay. I screwed up, again, I'm sorry."

"No. Your plan worked perfectly. We caught the vampire."

"We destroyed the vampire." Mulder corrected. He guessed he understood hoe Deep Throat must have felt, destroying the evidence, a sentient, alien being.

"You did what you had to."

"I endangered everyone. I endangered my friends." he paused on the word, suddenly realising how much he had come feel for Ben, and Ray, and even Knight.

"You going to be okay?" he asked at last of Ben.

Ben pushed himself up slightly on the pillows, turning his head slightly so he could see Mulder clearly.

"I guess. They're keeping me in for observation, they've done some tests, to make sure the bites didn't give me aids, hepatitis or rabies."

"I didn't think vampires could get aids." mused Mulder.

"No. But they could be carriers, like mosquitos with malaria. The Tinglit have a story about a vampire race that become mosquitos..."

"Maybe later, Ben, " Mulder smiled. Still, what if vampires associated with plagues wasn't merely a coincidence or a cover for their killings, his mind raced ahead.

"Have you had a blood test?"

Mulder unconsciously touched a hand to his throat. "Guess I should make sure, huh." he agreed wanly.

"You heard from Ray?"

Ben's eyes hardened, pained. "No, " he admitted.

"What? He hasn't come to see you, at all?"

"No."

Mulder pulled out his cell phone and punched in Ray's number, which remained stored in his photographic memory.

"What do you want." Vecchio's voice was both tired and angry.

"Its Ben." started Mulder.

"Is he OK?"

"Yes, but..."

"Fine. " The line cut off.

"He hung up, didn't he." It was more of a resignation than an accusation.

"Is there a problem?" Mulder asked, as gently as possible, his soft hazel eyes sweetly concerened.

"Yes. Ray is having trouble reconciling our relationship with his faith." Fraser admitted, deeply upset but refusing to give into his distress.

"I'm sorry," Mulder offered. "I'll drop by again later." He leant forward and brushed Ben's forehead with a gentle kiss. Their eyes met, he touched his lips to Ben's, opening into a kiss, their tongues sliding together for several seconds before Mulder broke away, and then broke eye contact.

"That shouldn't have happened, I'm sorry." he mumbled.

"Don't be." spoke Fraser quietly.

Mulder leant forward again and kissed Fraser fiercely, growling slightly as he pulled away; there was an unearthly glitter in both their eyes.

-o0o-

Dana Scully
Field Journal
23rd June 1995.

This investigation has not been without personal cost. Both Agent Mulder and Constable Fraser report frequent violent and disturbing nightmares, which Agent Mulder attributes to the vampire bites. It may be true that the violence of these attacks, whether or not they were perpetrated by a vampire or a man believing himself to be one, may have resulted in psychological trauma of some degree.

For the disintegration of the body of the suspect, this agent can offer no explanation - the fire was caused by the ignition of lighter fluid, the heat generated was not enough to reduce a male body to complete ashes.

The destruction or disappearance of all physical evidence relating to the case is further cause for concern, however, Agent Mulder, upon discussion with Detective Nicolas Knight of the Toronto Metro Police, has chosen not to pursue the matter.

With no evidence and no suspect, the case remains officially open and unsolved. The motives for the killings may never be known. Agent Mulder believes that if there is a sub-culture of blood drinkers frequenting the nightclub circuit, further murders will eventually follow. It is the opinion of this agent that further observation of the situation is warranted.

-o0o-

Ray hunched forward in the confessional booth, hands clasped together so tightly the knuckles showed white.

"Why do you think Fraser's illness is your fault." Father Behan prompted.

"It is, Father. I'm - we're - being punished. Because I love Benny, Father."

"Its not a sin to love your best friend..."

"No, you don't understand. we're lovers. I kissed him. We've touched," he paused. "We've touched each other, intimately."

"I see. Have you committed the sin of sodomy?"

"No, Father." Ray admitted. "But I've thought about it."

"I see. And you believe Fraser's illness is some sort of divine retribution."

"He's sick because he was bitten by a vampire, it's infected him."

"A vampire? You believe in such things, Ray?"

"I saw it, drinking Benny's blood. It snarled at me, and then it flew up through the roof. It had the shape of a man, but it was a monster."

"I see."

"I'm not crazy, Father. The Fed has the evidence to prove it."

"And you believe God sent this vampire to hurt Fraser, because of your feelings for him?"

"Yes, " Ray admitted tearfully.

"I see, " Father Behan answered quietly.

-o0o-

Ray dutifully picked up Ben from the hospital and drove both him and Dief back to the flat. Not a word was spoken for the duration of the journey across town.

Wordlessly, he carried Ben's small bag for him up the stairs, opened the door for him and placed the bag just inside. Ben entered his flat and circled the centre slowly; it felt so cold, inspite of the ambient temperature, barren and lonely. It didn't feel like home at all. The air was stale, and there was a thin layer of dust coating all of his belongings.

Ray half turned away.

"I've got to go." he mumbled.

Ben looked at him with those eyes.

"What's wrong, Ray. What have I done?"

"Nothing, Benny. I just - I just can't do this anymore. Stick with me and you'll end up dead. Its better this way, trust me. Bye, Benny."

He turned completely away, closing the door behind him.

Ben just stood there, staring at the closed door, pain and love knifing through his blue grey eyes.

-o0o-

Ben called Ray for the sixth time that day from the phone across the street from his flat. And for the sixth time, Ray hung up on him. He listened the phone beep at him for several seconds, numb, not exactly sure as to what he should be feeling. He didn't want to feel. As per his now bizarre and compulsive ritual, he fished into the pockets of his jeans for some American dollars, and purchased another case of beer from the bottle shop nearby before trudging up dejectedly up to his bleak and barren apartment, Dief following faithfully and silently by his side.

He slumped down onto the metal chair, resting his elbows on the kitchen table strewn with rubbish, holding his head in his hands for a moment, The terrible taunting voice that tormented him breaking through again, stirring up every wound, every hurt he had ever known until every cell in his body seemed to scream in misery. Desperately, he ripped open the carton of beer and began to drink, as if were Inuit medicine to keep the demon away. He couldn't keep it away in his dreams, as terrible images played over and over again in his mind's eye.

Absently, he picked up his revolver from the table, removing all the bullets but one. He spun the chamber, placed the cold steel tip of the barrel to his head and calmly pulled the trigger. It clicked, harmlessly, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the room. Automatically, he spun the chamber again and repeated the movement. This time Fraser slid the cold hard barrel of the gun into his mouth, his tongue circling the rim, tasting it. His hand curled tight around the grip, and he pulled the trigger.

-o0o-

"So, Vecchio, where've you been hiding the Mountie." stirred Welsh, taking pleasure at the almost permanent scowl that marred Ray's face.

"Like I know where he is!" he snapped.

"You do, usually - speak of the devil -"

Fraser strode up the stairs in his civvies, stalked past the rest of the personnel in silence, to stand before Ray's desk. Purposefully, he put a small white envelope down on the blotter.

"What's this?" Ray asked, not even picking it up.

"Read it later." Fraser instructed, then turned on his heel with military precision and strode out of the squad room, not even acknowledging Elaine's greeting.

It was Elaine's turn to stalk over to Ray's desk.

"What'd you say to him." she demanded, hands on her hips.

"Nothing, okay" Ray snarled.

"Well, maybe you should say something then." she decided, exasperated.

"See that." grinned Huey to Gardino.

"Yeah, " smirked Gardino. "Looks like trouble in paradise."

"I guess the honeymoon is over," added Huey, his grin widening.

Ben slammed the door behind him. He stomped over to his little table to drop off his mail. In a sudden fit of rage he swept everything off the table onto the floor, and pounded it with his fist. Then he kicked it over. And the chairs. He picked up a cup Ray had brought him and pitched it at the wall. It impacted hard and shattered into a hundred pieces.

"Ben," He spun, to see his father's ghost. Only it wasn't his father. It was Lacroix, mocking him, laughing at him.

He began tearing the place apart, smashing and destroying his meagre possessions, hurling objects and abuse at the mocking shade that haunted him.

He fell to his knees, hands tearing at his hair, tears streaming from his eyes.

"No!" he cried.

He fell back against the floor, insensible, letting wracking sobs claim his body.

-o0o-

Inside the womb of the church it was dark and medieval, cocooned in another time, lit by the light of beeswax candles, their pale lights flickering against the fears and grasping sadness lurking just out of sight in the shadows.

Ray knelt in the near darkness, seeking sanctuary, finding none. His prayers were jumbled, a mess, like his mind, his emotions, his life. Desperately afraid of losing Benny to some perverse divine punishment. Ray would never have believed such a fear could grip him, until he'd seen the vampire atop of Benny. An unholy creature, the personification of their punishment for their sins. That was the Church's line, had been, since the middle ages. Vampire attacks were judgemental visitations from God. It said so, in that book Mulder had. How could Ray ignore it, seeing what he had seen.

There was a deeper issue at work here, a deeper guilt, the death of a beloved one, a guilt he had never absolved. He'd lost himself in drink, and then, just carried on. Until Fraser. Until the day that damned Canadian had walked into his life. And Benny was damned. Had to be. How else could something so horrible happen to one so good. Ray had to have tainted him. It was the only reasonable excuse he could think of. Staying away from Benny was the only thing he could think of. But it was tearing him up inside. The more he pushed Benny away, the more he realised how deeply, how completely he loved the man.

Ray bowed his head deeper, shutting his eyes tight so the tears couldn't squeeze out.

A lone figure sat on the park bench in a nameless, bleak Washington D.C. park, his black trenchcoat wrapped tight around him. His breath made small clouds. It had been warm, promising summer, but now, the temperature seemed to have dropped, matching his mood. He half fancied Deep Throat's ghost visiting him on a night like this. He would not have been entirely surprised, either. He had fought too long, seen too much, and a weariness many times greater than his age weighed upon him. His armour was tarnished. Scully looked to him for his enthusiasm, his belief, his crusader's zeal. Sometimes it was enough to carry them both. It wasn't now. They we're hurting. The wounding and wasting sickness of their purest knight. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Like his sister. He glanced up at the cold, bright stars. The princess was always found, returned, restored or awakened in the stories. But of Samantha - sometimes he felt he would never know. His inability to protect her was somehow echoed in his inability to protect Fraser. Something about Fraser made you want to protect him, cherish and worship his innocence, like a vestal virgin almost.

Fox covered his hands with his eyes. The only one to call him Fox, other than his sister. He could understand how Ray could feel unworthy. God, how Fraser must be hurting tonight.

-o0o-

Fraser knelt mindlessly in the middle of his floor. The silver glitter of his knife, laying out on the floor, reflecting the street light through the window, attracted him.

He reached out and picked it up, handling it as though he'd never seen it before.

Curiously, he turned it inwards and dragged it across his chest, the blade cutting through cloth and flesh. He barely felt the sting of the clean, sharp incision.

Remembering something he'd read in Tacitus once, he laid his arm down against his thigh, exposing the soft skin of his wrist, and the blue veins that lay beneath. Turning the knife outwards once more, holding it almost like a paint brush, he dragged its razor edge down the length of his wrist, watching as the skin split open, revealing a cross section of blood vessels. The blood seemed to shy for a moment, startled by the sudden exposure to the air, then poured forth, jubilated at its liberation.

He put the knife handle in his mouth, biting down on the wooden grip, raising his other wrist up to test the blade.

"Ben -" he glanced up. His father's ghost. He saw his father's ghost. This meant something was rotten in the state of Denmark. This meant he was quite, quite mad.

-o0o-

Nick leant heavily on his fridge door, staring at the bottles of blood within, knowing that he would never, couldn't ever, be free.

-o0o-

"Ramondo?"

Ray's mother had found him sitting alone, hunched over the table in a darkened kitchen. At first she thought he had been drinking, but was relieved to see that only a half empty glass of water sat in front of him. She switched on the light, making him turn his face away in pain, and pulled up a chair at right angles to him. The sight of her only son in such obvious distress pained her. She wanted to ask of him why he was sitting here alone, in the middle of the night, not far from dawn, why he had been here all night, wrestling with whatever demons ailed him, but she was his mother, and she already knew.

"Benton doesn't come over for dinner anymore." she began conversationally.

"No, Ma." Ray agreed sullenly, eyes still downcast. She wondered what it was about the scratched and deeply scoured varnish on the old kitchen table that could hold his fascination so.

"You've not spoken to him since he got out of the hospital." she pressed, as Ray was being less than talkative.

"No," he sighed.

"Why not. Isn't he your friend?"

Ray didn't, couldn't answer. Pain twisted his features even more, if that was possible.

"He must be very lonely," his mother scolded softly. "Why won't you talk to him." she had fielded numerous calls from Fraser, until he had finally stopped calling.

"I can't." Ray struggled to answer.

"He doesn't blame you," she reminded, having listened to Ben's plaintive voice over the phone, begging, as much as he could, for Ray to see reason.

Tears began sliding down Ray's face; his hands tightened around the glass that he held.

"Ramomdo," soothed his mother, leaning close, 'Do you really think God would make you love your friend so much for no reason. He wants you to care for him, cherish him."

"I can't," Ray choked. "He nearly died because of me."

"No," she rested her hand over his, "You saved his life, many times over. No one who loves him as much as you do could ever cause him real harm." She squeezed his hand slightly, "Go to him."

Ray looked up at last, almost afraid to look his mother in the eye, but saw only concern and caring there. Above all, she wanted him to be happy. He should have known; he'd never been ever able to slide anything past her.

"He must be feeling very lonely. You should be with him," she decided.

Ray ducked his head. "Thanks, Ma," he smiled.

She left him by himself, to think over her advice. She'd always thought of herself as a good Catholic, but like hell was she going to let the teachings of the church destroy her son and his friend. For the same reason she hadn't stood in the way of Francesca's divorce, knowing that it was the right thing to do.

Ray turned the glass slowly in his hand. His mother's words made sense to him. Funny, how rarely they had really talked like that. Really talked, not just relayed shopping lists and day to day household business. Her approval of his friendship with Ben meant a lot to him, so far as to cancel a part of the disappointment and disgust his father would regardtheir relationship, were he still alive.

Ray was frightened of losing Ben though, they way he had lost the only other person he'd ever cared as deeply for. A love like this only happened once in a man's life, if he was lucky. Everytime it happened to Ray, he lost them.

But Ray still felt cursed, as though touching Ben again would bring the wrath of God down upon them again. Never could he get the image out of his head of the vampire they called Lacroix feeding upon Ben. His awful mouth stained red with Ben's blood, his eyes - no man was meant to witness such horrors like that and remain completely sane. To know demons like that really existed, that there were monsters in the dark shadows, small wonder he had fallen into a crisis of faith.

He unfastened the gold crucifix he wore from his neck, catching the chain, and held it in his hand, curiously, watching the cross shine in the light as it swung back and forth in tiny arcs. Choosing between love and religion was never a decision a man made lightly. It was one he was still unsure of. He laid the cross down carefully on the bare table. He wasn't renouncing his god, just the teachings of his church. He had never separated his faith from the church before, now he would have to.

-o0o-

Diefenbaker huddled under the remains of the bed, fearfully watching his master from across the room.

Fraser did not move. He had not moved in hours, long before the sun had gone down. The flat lay in total darkness. He sat against the far wall, staring straight ahead. His blue grey eyes burned intensely with the bright fire of madness. He was sweating, droplets of sweat occasionally fell from his skin to mingle with the blood that still seeped from the bites on his throat, and the vertical gash he had cut into his own arm. The blood oozed thickly from the deep cut, stiffening and staining the jeans leg upon which the arm rested with his drying blood.

With his uncut hand he picked up the bottle of beer that sat beside him and took another deep swallow. He was thirsty. He was burning with fever, but that didn't matter to him anymore. He barely registered any pain or sensation. Only the vision of his father's ghost had stayed his hand from slashing open his other wrist, before the feverish madness conjured once more the leering image of Lacroix, driving him further into hopelessness.

He was calm now, the blood loss and alcohol enveloping him in an almost pleasant dizzying numbness. He had no more strength to move, to think, to feel. And in his mind, still the laughter of Lacroix mocked him. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness, and rushed to meet its dark embrace.

The bottle fell from his hand and rolled across the floor, watched silently by Dief.

-o0o-

Ray stood on the threshold of Fraser's apartment. It was a mess. Fraser barely looked up to acknowledge his presence. Fraser was a mess, too. Unkempt and unshaven, he didn't look like he'd bathed or eaten in days. He was slumped in his seat, sucking on a small brown bottle of beer, one of many as the table was strewn with a dozen or so empties, plus one or two that had rolled onto the floor. Deif lay beside him sullenly at his feet, pining with his master.

Fraser sat back in the chair, arm still cradled in his lap, against his body, uncomfortable under Ray's scrutiny.

"Did you see the priest?" Fraser asked at last, somewhat glumly and slightly slurred.

"Yeah. Where the hell did you dig him up from."

"The gay advisory service."

"Figures." spat Ray.

"I thought it would help, talking to someone who might understand." Fraser began, and then he gave up.

"Yeah, right." muttered Ray, not looking at him, looking anywhere but at him, glancing around the apartment. It looked almost as bad as the day Fraser had first moved in. He'd really trashed the place.

"Why did you come here." Fraser asked, a tremor in his voice.

Ray shoved his hands in his pockets, swallowing hard, unable to speak.

Fraser stared at him hopelessly, and let the bottle slip from his fingers onto the floor with a dull thud.

Ray turned at the noise and saw the tears falling freely from his lover's eyes.

"Oh, God, no, don't do this, Ben. Please. I can't. We can't. Can't
you see I'm no good for you. Look what I've done to you already."

"Don't presume to treat me like a child. Don't you think I can decide what is best for me." Fraser snarled back.

"Look at yourself!" cried Ray. "You're sitting there, drinking, I don't know when was the last time you bathed or changed your clothes. Look at what I've done to you - I can't, I won't -"

"Don't put me on a pedestal, Ray. It's not fair. What happened, happened. It wasn't punishment from God. I don't believe he'd do something like this us. So why are you punishing me, now? I want you. I want to be with you. Please, Ray, " he begged. "Don't leave me."

Ray turned his face away, swallowing his tears, but he couldn't hide them.

"I love you too, Ben." he admitted.

"Then why."

"You know why."

"I thought talking to the priest would help you. I guess I was wrong." Fraser declared, defeated. "Get out, Ray."

"What?" Ray faced him again, shocked.

"You heard me." Fraser leant forward, anger and bitterness burning darkly in his eyes.

"Get the hell out. And never speak to me again."

"Fraser - don't" it was Ray's turn to plead.

"Why not. This is my apartment. I'm asking you to leave. Now."

Ray stood, rooted to the spot, his whole being, his whole universe, tearing up inside him.

Fraser watched him, almost dispassionately, no longer caring.

Slowly, Ray straightened, having come to a decision.

"No." he said at last. "I wont go. I won't leave here. And I won't leave you. The priest said I had to follow my own conscience. I've tried to. I thought leaving you was the best thing, the right thing to do. But I can't. I guess I'm just selfish. I need you Ben, you're my best friend."

"No, Ray. You're not selfish. You're a good person. What happened wasn't your fault, Ray. You don't need to seek out forgiveness, you never did anything wrong. Vampires do what they will, morals and feelings don't come into it. Did I tell you the time I was tracking a wolf pack..."

"Is this another caribou story?"

Fraser paused. "Well, yes, it was going to be."

Ray smiled. "Its okay. I get the idea. Vampires are real, divine retribution isn't. I guess you were just prey to them. I know. I just feel that I'm dragging you down."

"Oh, no, Ray, you and me, we're partners, friends. I don't have anyone else but you."

"And I've never met anyone else like you, Ben."

He came and knelt before Fraser, slipping in between his knees and reaching up to kiss his throat, tasting the salt stained skin over the newly healed scars.

"Ben," he smiled. "If I'm staying, you want to go and take that bath now, you know, get yourself cleaned up."

Fraser smiled joyfully.

"Okay, Ray, I think I will."

They kissed, softly, for a moment.

-o0o-

Ray brushed his knuckles softly across Fraser's stubble.

"You've really let yourself go here, Ben." he observed fondly.

Fraser ducked his head, an embarrassed smile twitching at his lips.

Ray glanced again to the empty bottles scattered on the table.

"How long have you been drinking, Benny?"

"Since the other night, when you wouldn't speak to me. I was going to kill myself, but decided to get drunk instead."

"Well, these will kill you, Benny." Ray offered, righting a bottle. "Why, Benny."

"I thought it might stop the pain and the nightmares."

"Pain from the bites?"

"No," his eyes raked over Ray softly. "From losing you."

Ray brushed his cheek fondly.

"I am so sorry." he apologised. He looked up into his lover's dilated eyes.

"Oh, Benny, you are going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow."

"Probably. It was a stupid, desperate thing to do."

"Yeah, like trashing this place." He'd never seen Fraser lose his temper, ever. He was glad he hadn't been here to find out what it was like. He could still see dark fires burning in the once clear blue eyes. The vampires had left their taint on him, infecting a part of his soul with their dark virus. Things would never be the same.

"Go on." Ray coaxed him towards the idea of a bath. "I'll be here when you get back." he promised.

-o0o-

Fraser returned, clean shaven and wearing only a towel, to find his flat tidied. Ray grinned at him and held up a shining silver strip of condoms.

Ben smiled and closed the door tightly behind him. He let Ray come to him and embrace him, letting Ray's hot tongue push into his mouth, his hands caress his body.

Ray sank down, sliding away the towel, he knelt before Ben, kissing him, brushing his hardening manhood with his cheek before taking it in his mouth and sucking gently. Ray held him tight, not letting him go until he came, hot and thick, into his lover's mouth.

Ben pulled the Chicago cop to his feet, to kiss him hard, tasting the salty flavour of his own cum on his lips. His fingers nimbly unbuttoned Ray's shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, touching the skin underneath. He began on the buckle. Ray stepped out of his trousers and pushed Ben back towards the bed where they lay together. stroking, suckling. Ray pulled his Mountie down to the end of the bed, positioning himself; Ben felt his slick sheathed cock sliding up and down against his arse. It felt good, and he raised his hips, letting Ray press harder. Ray teased him, watching him harden; Ben suddenly felt the tip of Ray's cock push inside him.

Fraser clutched at the edge of the bed tighter as Ray pushed the tip of his cock inside him. It hurt, but he wouldn't admit it to Ray, who wanted this so badly. Ray let Fraser adjust, before moving forward, then back, slowly, inching his way deeper each time. The pain opened up to a soft pressure, then pleasure as Ray began to fill him, pulsing, pushing deep in slow, slick thrusts. Fraser moved instinctively to let him push deeper. He smiled up at Ray like an angel, overjoyed at their joining. Beautifully, he tilted his head back as Ray's thrusts grew more urgent, harder, wilder as they moved together, as one, towards their climax.

Benny sat up, took Ray by the shoulders and pulled him down on the bed beside him. He rolled Ray onto his stomach, straddling him, and began to give him a sensuous massage, kneading up and down his spine.

Ray sighed and yielded against the mattress, so relaxed, he barely felt the cold steel slip around his wrists.

"Benny?" he asked as the steel snapped shut. His hands were cuffed to the head of the bed. Soft fingertips raked along his ribs, tickling him, teasing him, then the hot mouth clamped to the back of his neck, sucking, hard, with delicious pressure. The pressure hardened, and Ray realised Benny was biting him. He nipped him all along his spine, right down to his arse which received particular attention. Ray felt Benny's sheathed shaft slide between his buttocks, pressing hard and fast, rubbing against him. Ray enjoyed the sweet pressure, rising to meet him. Ben grabbed his hips solidly and plunged into him, up to the hilt, without care, without gentleness.

Ray's scream was muffled against the mattress, his head pressed down against the starched cotton sheets. Ben withdrew and stabbed down into him again, savagely, again and again.

Ray rattled at the cuffs futilely, realising he was pinned, helpless to the merciless onslaught. Ben tore him wide open again with an animal grunt as he thrusted. Ray knew he had made a tactical error, offering himself up so trustingly to someone so obviously suffering serious post traumatic stress , very much disturbed, poisoned by the vampire bites. It wasn't Benny, he told himself, it wasn't Benny. Pressed against the white sheets, he thought only that it was like Forbidden Planet, Benny had been locking away all his dark feelings since he was six, now the monsters were escaping through the cracks. It wasn't Benny. He balled the sheets in his fists, unable to move.

Benny came at last and withdrew, his cock sliding free of Ray, his sheath slick with thick red blood.

The moonlight caught his eyes for a moment, reflecting, making them glow bright red. Hungrily, he bent to lap at the blood, his tongue flicking in and out of his captive friend. Ray sighed, the soft, ticklish sensation such sweet contrast. He didn't know what Benny was doing, he only knew that it felt so damn good.

Outside, a dark figure looked up towards the dimly lighted window, watching and waiting.

-o0o-

To be continued....

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