From: embroiderama@gmail.com   
      
   Title: Nothing Like Billy   
   Author: embroiderama (embroiderama@gmail.com)   
   Category: romance, crossover (with Supernatural - Mulder/Ellen)   
   Rating: NC-17   
   Warnings: het sex   
   Spoilers: none   
   Archive: Yes, please, on the major archives.   
   Disclaimer: None of the Winchesters belong to me, alas.  Neither does Mulder.   
   Summary: In 1996, an FBI agent walks into Harvelle's Roadhouse looking   
   for information.   
      
   Notes: Thank you to pheebs1 and elanurel (both on livejournal) for   
   encouraging and betaing this story.  They both really helped it come   
   into being, so give them kisses if you like it.  Also, this is my   
   first posting of XF fanfic in a very long time, so I apoloigize if I   
   screw up the posting process.   
      
   ~~~   
      
   He was the cleanest-looking man Ellen had seen walk into the roadhouse   
   in years--excepting, of course, the occasional wayward traveler.  This   
   man wasn't anything like her usual crowd, but he was no wayward   
   traveler either.  His fancy suit hung crisply on his tall, slim body,   
   and as he stepped out of the shadow of the doorway and pulled a pair   
   of sunglasses off his head, she saw that his eyes were sharp in his   
   handsome face.   
      
   "Excuse me," he said, his voice monotone, bland other than that twist   
   of back-East accent that slipped out between his vowels.  "I'm looking   
   for some information."   
      
   "If you want to get back to the interstate, take this road about   
   fifteen miles until you get to the next traffic light, and then turn   
   left.  Can't miss it."   
      
   "I'm not lost.  I was told I might find somebody here who knows about   
   the thing that lives up in the Wildcat Hills."   
      
   Well, hell.  Billy had told her about men like this. 'Gentleman   
   adventurers,' he called them, sneering at their idiocy.  Rich bastards   
   who wanted to put other people's lives at risk so they could get   
   interesting decorations for their walls.  Funny, she'd always imagined   
   them looking more like Teddy Roosevelt and less like a model in a suit   
   catalog.   
      
   "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about."   
      
   "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Mrs. Harvelle."   
      
   Her lungs froze up in her chest, but she locked up the reaction, only   
   allowing herself to glare at the stranger while she reached under the   
   counter to hold her revolver ready.  "You, whoever you are, you better   
   get the hell out of my establishment."   
      
   He held up his hands but didn't turn around or back up.  "Please, I'm   
   just trying to--"   
      
   "Out. Now!"  Thank god, thank god Jo was in school, was all she   
   thought as she raised the gun and pointed it at the stranger.   
      
   "Whoa! Hey, hold on.  I don't think you want the kind of trouble   
   shooting a Federal agent would get you."   
      
   "Federal agent?"   
      
   "Can I reach into my jacket to get my badge?"   
      
   "Real fuckin' slowly."   
      
   She watched as he moved one hand smoothly inside his jacket, the   
   muscles in her shooting arm going tense in readiness as he pulled his   
   hand out and then relaxing some when she saw a black leather bifold   
   clutched in his hand.  She could see the gold badge with the photo ID   
   below.  "Toss it over here."   
      
   He threw the badge under-hand so that it landed flat on the bar in   
   front of her. She picked it up and examined the ID, her gun-hand   
   dropping down to the bar as she read.  Special Agent Fox Mulder.   
   Ellen, she heard Billy's voice talking to her, you may have screwed   
   yourself real good this time.   
      
   "Why don't you go ahead and push the gun down the bar?"   
      
   Damn it, he sounded closer. She looked up to see the FBI man pointing   
   his own gun at her.   
      
   "I ain't gonna shoot you," she sighed, letting go of the revolver and   
   pushing it down the bar out of her reach.   
      
   He picked it up, removed the bullets, and tossed the empty gun toward   
   the pool table before slipping his badge back into his jacket pocket.   
   "You have any more weapons back there?"   
      
   "Rifle in the supply room."  Didn't seem to be much point in lying.   
      
   "How about we sit down at one of your tables and nobody shoots   
   anybody?  Maybe you can answer a few questions for me?"   
      
   Ellen nodded, walked around the bar and took a seat at one of the   
   tables near the juke box.  "I don't know as I'll have many answers for   
   you."   
      
   She watched him as he sat down at the table.  His slick black shoes   
   were dusty from walking across her dirt lot.  His crisp, clean white   
   shirt rumpled over his flat stomach as he sat down.  So different from   
   the men who usually sat at these tables.  Suit and tie instead of   
   jeans, t-shirts and faded flannel shirts.  Face clean and shaven as   
   smooth as a boy's instead of smudged with dirt and rough with   
   three-day beards.   
      
   "So," he interrupted her thoughts. "Getting back to my question.  Do   
   you know anyone with experience tracking the creature that lives in   
   the Wildcat Hills?"   
      
   "I don't suppose you're talking about the mountain lions?"   
      
   "Not exactly. Not unless you have mountain lions around here that can   
   mimic the human voice and devour a man's heart without tearing apart   
   the rest of his body."   
      
   Damn it, he didn't look like a hunter, but he knew what he was talking   
   about.    Old Zeke'd want to talk to this fed. Lost his hunting   
   partner to the creature in the Hills ten years ago and hadn't tracked   
   it down again since.  "I might know somebody you could talk to.  You   
   looking to bring trouble down on anybody?"   
      
   "Trouble?"   
      
   "You know what I'm talking about.  Helicopters and lights and dogs and   
   warrants for weapons violations.  That kind of trouble."   
      
   He shook his head, smiling a little.  "No, I'm not interested in that.   
    I have accounts of that creature killing at least fifteen people in   
   the last fifty years, and I want to put a stop to it. That's all I   
   want to do here."   
      
   "Well, you'll want to talk to old Zeke, then, but he won't be in until   
   seven or so. You might want to go find yourself somewhere to stay   
   until then."   
      
   "I'll wait.  If you don't mind."   
      
   He sure was a hunter, in his own way.  Stubborn as the rest of them,   
   surprising when he seemed nothing like the hunters she sold beer and   
   whiskey to every day.  God, nothing like Billy.   
      
   "You don't have to worry about keeping me company."  He looked up then   
   and tossed her a mischievous little smile.  "Not unless you want to."   
      
   He let his eyes linger on her for a moment, and she felt something   
   warm bloom behind her breastbone. Hell.  In here alone with this   
   man--could be trouble.  Could be interesting.   
      
   "Don't your sort usually work with partners?"   
      
   He nodded, tilting his head to the side.  "My partner's visiting her   
   family in California.  I got a lead on this case and couldn't pass it   
   up."   
      
   Impulsive son on a bitch.  "So, uh, Fox?"   
      
   "Call me Mulder."  He smirked.  "Please."   
      
    "Mulder. You're all on your lonesome, a solitary Fed in the great   
   state of Nebraska?"   
      
   He chuffed out a quiet laugh.  "Seems that way."   
      
   Mulder turned his head to peer around the inside of the bar, and she   
   couldn't help but look at the patch of bare skin between the top of   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)