From: Tesla1321@aol.com   
      
   Title: There is no seven, part 8   
   vampire sibs bond   
      
   Spike wanted to go out and kill something. Since it couldn't be his   
   natural prey, demons were just fine.   
      
   Mulder understood perfectly, he was just less enthusiastic.   
      
   "Come on, a little of the old ultra-violence," Spike urged,lacing up   
   his boots.   
      
   "I'm getting dressed, aren't I?" Mulder said. He stood, jeans   
   unzipped, flicking the remote control.   
      
   "Christ, you're worse---it's a big place, L.A., and we need to bugger   
   off---"   
      
   Mulder gave him a wide, blank stare, and pointed at the television.   
      
   "What---bloody fuck. It's them."   
      
   On the hotel access channel, there was an ad for Wolfram &   
   Hart's "specialized legal services."   
      
   "Write down the address on your arm or something," Spike said.   
      
   Mulder shook his head. "I'll remember it. I have a photographic   
   memory." He pulled his shirt on and began buttoning it.   
      
   "Bet you were fun at parties," Spike said, pulling on his coat. He   
   noticed that Mulder was still staring at the television screen. "Come   
   on," he said, in a gentler tone of voice. "We'll go check 'em out.   
   Use all that keen spy stuff you used to do,see if we can pick up any   
   hint of Drusilla." He reached up and slung an arm around Mulder's   
   neck. "C'mon. We'll locate her. I spent 'bout a hundred years with   
   her. She won't leave while there's a full moon. Says it teases her."   
      
   Mulder let Spike give him a rough shake. "A hundred years," he said.   
      
   "Nah, don't be jealous. I should be jealous, now, shouldn't I? She   
   didn't make you to be a minion. She made you to be a companion.   
   Amount of blood you get ---sire's intent---if she hadn't tasted   
   something worthwhile in you, she wouldn't've bothered and the   
   lawyer's 'ud never known the difference." Spike gripped Mulder by the   
   back of the neck and squeezed, hard. "None o' that fuckin' broodin',   
   Christ, you can tell that your bloodline comes straight from Peaches!"   
      
   Mulder smiled, reluctantly. "I was a world class brooder when I was   
   alive. Nothing to do with---you're talking about Angel again, right?"   
      
   Spike released him. "Yeah. Fuck, you're right. I do talk about him   
   too much."   
      
   "I didn't say you talked about him too much, I'm interested. I just   
   said you say you hate him, but yet---" Mulder turned aside to pull on   
   his jacket so Spike wouldn't see him smirk.   
      
   "I still don't understand the soul bit," Spike said, loading his   
   cigarettes and lighter into his coat pockets. "Puzzles me still. When   
   young Marcus was stickin'hot pokers in him, thought I'd see   
   somethin', thought I'd see if he'd lose the stink of the   
   righteousness."   
      
   "Did he?" Mulder asked, scooping up the keys to the stolen Lexus.   
      
   They left the hotel suite, walked to the service elevator.   
      
   "Nothin'. Just a lot of screamin' and cursin'. Got to hand it to the   
   old grand-sire, he would've gotten away from Marcus if I hadn't come   
   back."   
      
   Spike sounded proud and pleased, and Mulder understood, and felt,   
   irrationally, the same pleasure. He was their ancestor, after all:   
   their demon, their blood.   
      
   "No," Spike said, not looking around.   
      
   Mulder glanced at him.   
      
   "Not lettin' him near you. He kills our kind. Killed Darla, killed   
   the only other two he made 'sides Dru. Heard that he set Dru on fire."   
      
   Mulder felt himself go into gameface.   
      
   Spike nodded. "Right. I know. But we can't do anything 'less she says   
   so. She plays rough with him, always has. She won't want us hurtin'   
   her Daddy unless she's there to see it."   
      
   Mulder smoothed his face out. "You're the boss, Spike." They got out   
   in the parking garage. "You need to eat?"   
      
   "I'm good, young 'un." Spike cuffed Mulder. "You drive, since you   
   stole the car."   
      
   ****************   
      
   Scully had argued the Angel Investigations staff to a stand still.   
   The vampire, himself, had put on his black Hugo Boss coat and stalked   
   out, flaring it like he thought he was Batman. She saw Krycek grin   
   appreciatively.   
      
   For an evil traitorous ratboy, he had his points.   
      
   Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn had decided to go home; but first, Wesley   
   and Gunn had produced a length of titanium chain and padlocked Krycek   
   in one of the hotel rooms. He could go to the bathroom and sleep, but   
   not leave the room.   
      
   "No television?" Krycek asked, outraged. "That's un-American."   
      
   "There's still a Gideon Bible in the table," Cordelia said,   
   unexpectedly. "Isn't it funny that Bibles don't affect vampires?"   
      
   "There you are, Krycek," Scully said.   
      
   "I don't even have clean underwear," Krycek groused. "This is against   
   the Geneva convention for treatment of agents."   
      
   "But double agents aren't covered," Scully said.   
      
   Krycek looked like he wanted to argue, but Scully left him to his   
   Bible reading.   
      
   "Captain Cranky hasn't really fixed up things," Cordelia   
   said. "There's a room next door that's clean, but if any one else   
   comes along, they'll have to dust their own room. Angel's usually   
   pretty tidy for a guy. Or a vampire."   
      
   Scully pulled her carry-on bag as they went down the carpeted hall.   
      
   "I didn't know that you federal agents investigated demonic   
   activity," Cordelia pursued.   
      
   Scully sighed. "Apparently I've been investigating it for years   
   without knowing what it was. Mulder was the one. I was the sceptic."   
      
   "I was sceptical, too, until I started vampire hunting in high   
   school," Cordelia said perkily. "Our mayor turned into a snake and   
   tried to eat the senior class of '99 at graduation. It broadens the   
   mind." She opened the door. "Well, have a good evening!"   
      
   Scully could think of nothing to say to this except good-night.   
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
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