From: Tesla1321@aol.com   
      
   Mulder walked into the Hyperion, scenting for traces of anyone or   
   anything. No one was there; he couldn't hear any heartbeats, or smell   
   anything more than a faint scent of family blood.   
      
   Angel Investigations, he read on a flyer. Old man's got a detective   
   agency, Spike had said. From the looks of it, Mulder didn't think   
   they could detect anything that wasn't a demon. Casefiles, casefiles   
   by the dozen, and the bitch was, they weren't X-Files, but civilian   
   files about demons and witches and vampires, and no one disbelieved   
   them.   
      
   It wasn't fair, Mulder thought indignantly. Here he was, a trained,   
   albeit undead, federal agent, and a pack of amateur demon hunters   
   were successfully closing cases regarding supernatural occurances. It   
   was the story of his whole fucking life, his talents going to waste.   
   Years buried in one basement or the other, people not listening to   
   him.   
      
   He was so sick of it. Treat Angel like Skinner, Spike had said.   
   Mulder didn't want authority, he wanted anarchy.   
      
   He wanted Spike.   
      
      
   Cordelia, Wesley, and Angel had gone to Caritas, because the Host   
   called and said he had a lead on Spike, and Mulder. The Host had   
   forced them to listen to a very very nervous vampire, and made Angel   
   allow the snitch leave with all of his molecules still   
   animated. "Nope, Angel-cakes, stay seated. Don't make me sit in your   
   lap. Or, on the other hand, do!"   
      
   Angel audibly ground his teeth. "I'm not chasing him." He flung   
   himself back in the bar chair. "So he saw Spike, and two men."   
      
   "One of which, a one-armed man." Wesley repeated. "How many of those   
   have we run into lately?"   
      
      
   Mulder perched on the office desk. Faint whiff of Scully's scent,   
   there. She had sat at the computer, sat in the chair. She had stuffed   
   his soul back in, without asking him, which was so like her. Scully   
   wouldn't want an evil, soulless demon. But a soulful one?   
      
   He wondered if having Scully's hot mouth around his cock would give   
   him a moment of perfect happiness. It would have, when he was alive.   
   Now he wondered if just sex would do it, without biting.   
      
   Biting Scully. Turning Scully.   
      
   Wasn't he not supposed to think like that, with this soul thing?   
      
   Shit.   
      
   He ran his tongue over the point of his left fang, and began to hack   
   into the computer. He was still doing that when he heard a human   
   heartbeat suddenly come into range, caught a familiar smell.   
      
   Scully.   
      
   He stood up behind the counter, his face sliding back into the one   
   she knew.   
      
      
   "Angel?" Scully called. "Cordelia? Is anyone there?"   
      
   There wasn't a noise, but she felt a presence. She turned around,   
   and, in the doorway, leaning on the jamb, was a man she'd last seen   
   lying in his coffin. She dropped her briefcase.   
      
   "Weren't you expecting me?" Mulder asked kindly. "Of course, I could   
   be a clone, or a shape-shifter, or an alien---oof." He caught her as   
   she flung herself upon his chest, and kissed her.   
      
   "Mulder, Mulder," Scully wept, as she hadn't at his funeral.   
      
   "I'm glad to see you, too, Scully," he said, wiping the tears from   
   her face with---good God, the long tail of his shirt. "More than I   
   thought I would be, actually. You know how it is, you make important   
   life-style changes and you aren't sure how your old friends'll react.   
   Hey, no punching. I still feel pain." He looked down at her. "Scully,   
   you're terribly naive. How do you know that your ensouling worked? I   
   could still be evil and here you are, without even a turtle-neck on."   
      
   "God, will you shut up for a moment?" Scully demanded. Her tears had   
   stopped instantly. Mulder always had that effect on her. "You're   
   still you," she said.   
      
   "Yeah, except for the no heartbeat, the immortality, sun allergy and   
   did I mention complete lack of social constraints?" Mulder said   
   cheerfully. "And, of course, now I care about shit again, damn it,   
   and I was enjoying the evil lifestyle." He took her hand and   
   began leading her upstairs.   
      
   "Where are we going?" she asked, half-heartedly. "And social   
   constraints? When?"   
      
   "Well, I do want to get along with my grand-sire. If he came in right   
   now and saw me this close to you, something tells me that he would   
   stake first and ask questions later."   
      
   "But where are we going?"   
      
   Still holding her hand, Mulder bent and picked up her   
   briefcase. "Well, I have reason to believe that this place has about   
   four floors of rooms. I picked one that's just far enough from   
   Gramps."   
      
   "You're talking about Angel? Were you with Krycek?"   
      
   "Well, I was with a guy named Spike until a couple of hours ago.   
   Krycek went off with him. And when I say 'guy,' I mean a vampire. He   
   and I were both sired by Drusilla. Stop me if I'm boring you." They   
   were walking up the carpeted stairs.   
      
   "Not at all," Scully said, conscious of the cold hand in hers.   
      
   "Good. But, on the whole, I have to say, I was really enjoying the   
   whole undead gig until you came back and got my soul back. I mean,   
   you know I'm flexible and try to wring every bit of enjoyment from   
   every situation, but having the soul back? Really harshes my mellow."   
      
   Scully said, "So if I shot you right now, it wouldn't kill you but   
   it'd hurt?"   
      
   Mulder opened a door, around the corner of the corridor from the   
   rooms she and Krycek had used. "Now, Scully. Is it really your weapon   
   you want to pull?" He closed the door behind them. "Or is it mine?"   
      
      
   Angel raised his head and sniffed like a tracking dog.   
      
   "Ew," Cordelia said. "Can I tell you how freaking gross that is?" She   
   unslung her purse from around her neck and tossing it on the counter.   
      
   "Someone's here," Angel said.   
      
   "Yes, Agent Scully," Wesley said prosaically. "There's a rental car   
   outside. It's the one she used."   
      
   Cordelia and Gunn laughed.   
      
   "No," Angel said sourly, "And you people should be grateful that I   
   already went through my semi-dark period, because I'd really like to   
   bite you all. Mulder's here." He said the last on a run up the stairs.   
      
   "Hope Girlfriend doesn't have her gun on the bedside table," Gunn   
   said, going behind the lobby counter to the mini-fridge.   
      
   "Well, do you really think that Agent Scully and Mulder---" Wesley   
   began, but was interrupted by the sound of a gunshot.   
      
   The three of them stared at each other, before running up the stairs,   
   the sounds of shouting and breakage erupting. Angel had a fully   
   clothed dark-haired man by the neck, against the wall, shouting, and   
   at the same time, Agent Scully had her gun out and jammed into   
   Angel's nape.   
      
   "---you aren't going to kill---"   
   "---stay away from---"   
   "---you don't come into my hotel---"   
   "---only one warning shot---"   
   "--moment of perfect happiness."   
      
   The dark haired man was the only one not yelling, and he looked   
   amused. "Perfect happiness? Not on your life," he said, in a normal   
   tone of voice. "You've got a dirty mind, Gramps."   
      
   Angel said, "Did Spike tell you that I can kill a vampire by pulling   
   its head off? And don't call me that."   
      
   "And while I know you'd eventually recover, I'm betting you wouldn't   
   like a steel-jacketed bullet in your skull," Scully snarled. "Let.   
   Mulder. Go."   
      
   Angel removed his forearm from Mulder's windpipe. "Fine. Take him   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)