From: Tesla1321@aol.com   
      
   "What did you do?" Mulder asked Krycek, furious, tears trembling on   
   his long eyelashes. He was walking back and forth on the expensive   
   carpet of the hotel suite, arms around his middle like a junkie with   
   a jones.   
      
   Spike lit up a cigarette and passed the pack to Krycek. "He didn't,"   
   he said. "Remember, he said your Scully girl was down in Sunnydale,   
   hirin' the Slayer's pal to re-soul you. Tricky spell, though. Took   
   the witch a couple of tries to fix up the old man. I tried to get her   
   to do a love spell, and she couldn't do it."   
      
   "I wouldn't think a spell would be effective that far away," Krycek   
   said, blowing a cloud of smoke. "So, what's it like---what's the   
   difference?"   
      
   "I---I feel guilty and I don't know why," Mulder said, stopping at   
   the bar and uncapping a bottle of bourbon. "Like something terrible's   
   happening."   
      
   "So, are you upset about all the people you ate?" Spike asked,fingers   
   of one hand inside his waistband. Krycek couldn't stop watching him.   
   A dead man, and he was more alive than anyone Krycek had ever met.   
      
   "No, they were scum," Mulder said. "They tormented me and my friends   
   for years. They killed people. And the drug dealers? Less than scum."   
      
   Spike was shaking his head. "Yeah, but I've been around Angel. You'll   
   want to rescue...puppies... you won't like goin' huntin' with me." He   
   nodded at Krycek. "He's gonna be more evil than you."   
      
   "Well, yeah," Krycek said. "Always was."   
      
   "I hate this," Mulder said. "This is unfair. I liked not having a   
   conscience."   
      
   "Yeah, see, and it'll start to eat at you and it'll all end in   
   misery," Spike said. "Just like the old man."   
      
   Krycek, said, uncomfortable, "Apparently, there's a catch. If you   
   have one moment of perfect happiness, where you forget you're not a   
   demon, you lose your soul."   
      
   "No worries there, " Mulder said, and flung his glass at the wall.   
      
   "Gotta take you to him," Spike said, sitting up straight. "Hm. Must   
   be what old Greenie was yammering about."   
      
   "Angel, you mean? Why?" Krycek asked.   
      
   Spike held up three fingers. "One, 'cause he's got a soul and manages   
   to muddle through. Two, runs some kind of detective agency and our   
   boy here knows all that stuff cold. Shut up, Mulder. Three---no, I'm   
   not arguin'. Three, because I know you won't let the old sod dust our   
   Dru, if he finds her before I do."   
      
   To Krycek's horror, Mulder had big tears running down his face, like   
   a little boy's.   
      
   "No!" Mulder glared, wiping his shirt sleeve across his face.   
      
   Spike looked like he was going to clock Mulder, but he sat back with   
   his cigarette. "Yeah, because you're all souled-up now. I can feel   
   it. And things will go to hell. You won't wanna keep me in blood." He   
   cocked an eye at Krycek. "You don't have problems killin' the odd   
   bloke, d'you? I may have a job openin'."   
      
   "It's not funny!" Mulder said, turning around.   
      
   Spike was on him in a moment, holding Mulder's head between his   
   hands. "Calm down, boy, I'm not sayin' you'd turn on me, no, but I   
   can't let you near my princess now. The soul'll frighten her, she had   
   enough o' that with Peaches. Like a regular hokey-pokey the old man   
   is, unsouled and souled and not and back again. It seems to have   
   stuck with him for now, and he won't do anything to you, with your   
   soul."   
      
   "Shit, he'll tear my head off," Mulder said. "I don't want to go any   
   where near him, the bastard. Spike, he set Her---Drusilla--- on fire.   
   And his own sire!" He had his hands on Spike's wrists, but wasn't   
   trying to get free.   
      
   "Yeah, but like I told you before, they play rough, always have." He   
   let Mulder go, and retrieved his cigarette from the ashtray into   
   which he'd thrown it. "'Sides, think she's headed back to Sunnydale   
   and the Hellmouth. Best place she can go, to heal up quicker." Spike   
   squinted up at the ceiling through his smoke. "Or Cleveland." He   
   looked at Krycek. "What do you think, spyboy?"   
      
   Krycek blinked. "I don't really know anything about Hellmouths. The   
   consortium completely misrepresented demonic activity as extra-   
   terrestrial rather than indigenous----" at Spike's impatient look, he   
   stopped. "I don't think Angel'll kill him. Not with a soul. Probably   
   be jealous, though."   
      
   Spike gave a short bark of laughter. "Didn't think about that, but   
   yeah. Damn, I'd almost like to see it."   
      
   "He didn't think Scully would be able to get it done," Krycek   
   said. "In fact, he thought he was talking her out of it."   
      
   "Yeah, right. Angel always thinks that everyone's gonna mind, once he   
   lays down the law." Spike got up and started collecting cigarettes,   
   ashtray, and liquor bottles and stuffing them in a very nice leather   
   messenger bag. "So, I'll be big about it and drop you where you want   
   to go, Spy boy. We'll take Mulder to the hotel, so get your stuff   
   together, Mulder, I don't want to beat the shit outta you. Matter of   
   fact, I probably should mark you up so Angel doesn't get suspicious."   
      
   "Fine," Mulder said, sitting down on the bed, head hanging dejectedly.   
      
   "Don't be like that, young 'un. We had some fun, but we need to get   
   out and on the road." Spike pulled out an automatic pistol. "Here,   
   take your little pop gun. Like I told you, it won't kill a vampire,   
   but if you shoot the poof in the chest, it'll stop him long enough to   
   listen to you."   
      
   "Fuck," Mulder said, swiping his face with his sleeve again.   
      
   "Where do you wanna go?" Spike said, congenially, to Krycek.   
      
   "Airport, I guess, eventually. I have my return ticket. But if you   
   drop me off at the hotel, too, I have some people I can go see.   
   Consortium types. Might be fun, if you want to come with, Spike."   
      
   Mulder didn't even look up.   
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
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