From: Tesla1321@aol.com   
      
   AKA "There is no seven"   
   AtS/The X-Files crossover.   
   The time and space continuum is distorted, so it's AU.   
      
      
   Scully pulled up to the old hotel in the rented Taurus. "This is the   
   address they gave me, but it doesn't look like a detective agency,"   
   she muttered.   
      
   "Supernatural detective agency," said her hateful passenger. "On the   
   other hand, we probably could get a bed for the night."   
      
   "Don't use 'we' and 'bed' in the same sentence," Scully said, but her   
   heart really wasn't in it. Maybe it was the sensation that this was   
   all a dream from the Tylenol 3s she'd popped after Mulder's funeral,   
   maybe it was jet lag, but she had a light-headed sense of   
   unreality. "Come on."   
      
   "I'm still hand-cuffed to the shoulder harness," Krycek reminded her.   
      
   "You wanted to come with, so don't bitch." She pulled out her keys.   
      
   "I didn't----fuck, Scully! A little less with the Mistress of   
   Submission, 'kay? It's the only arm I have."   
      
   "Whiner."   
      
      
   They went in through the double doors. A young woman lounged at what   
   must be a reception desk, and three men were standing around in   
   various poses of attention or inattention. The biggest man had seen   
   them first, and was staring hard at her as they came in.   
      
   "----you still have that eau de euw, so I'm just saying, a little   
   down time with Irish Spring?" the woman was saying.   
      
   "Spike is supposed to be chipped, isn't he? So what makes you think---   
   "   
      
   "He's always up to something," the big man said, still   
   watching. "Wesley, we have guests."   
      
   "See? Hotel," Krycek said to Scully.   
      
   Scully badged them. "Agent Dana Scully, FBI."   
      
   The woman glanced up. "Angel, did you cut off another guy's hand?"   
      
   "No!"   
      
   "I hope you got a warrant," said a young black man. "Jeeze, they   
   never quit, do they?"   
      
   "What would the FBI want with us?"   
      
   Scully thought, briefly, of drawing her Glock.   
      
   "I'm looking for the vampire with a soul," she said, cutting through   
   the comments.   
      
   She suddenly had their complete attention.   
      
   *****************   
      
   "So the military put the chip in your head," Mulder said. "I'm   
   wondering   
   if it was the same technology----hm."   
      
   "Like a secret military group, black ops," Spike said. "I thought for   
   a long time that the Slayer got funding or something, but no." He lit   
   another cigarette. "Next time, someone less strung out, okay? I feel   
   a bit stoned myself, now."   
      
   "Beggars can't be choosers, bro," Mulder said. "She was young, and   
   convenient." He felt slightly mellowed out, himself, but he'd been   
   killing the mini-bar since they got back to the hotel.   
      
   Funny how the metaphors just all blended together now.   
      
   Spike gave him a look of disgust. "What is it with you Hugo Boss   
   wearing blokes? Nothing but attitude. Just like the old man. He's   
   probably at an all-night dry cleaner's now, more worried about his   
   coat than anything else."   
      
   "You keep saying that you hate him, but you keep talking about   
   Angel," Mulder said, tossing Spike a beer. "So, should we go take him   
   out?"   
      
   "I can still kill demons, and that includes you," Spike groused.   
      
   Mulder threw his shirt on the foot of one of the beds. "Aah, not when   
   I'm getting your dinner for you."   
      
   "Where you going?"   
      
   "Jacuzzi. This guy's suite has a flat-screen in the bathroom. Knicks   
   are on." He dropped his trousers beside them, and picked up his   
   bottle of beer.   
      
   "I could use a soak." Spike uncoiled himself from the bed, and   
   followed Mulder.   
      
      
      
      
      
      
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