The Curse of Dark Shadows 02

Mulder gleefully flipped through the book a couple times, glancing at the pages filled with scrawling ink. He sat down at the library table and chose a page that had a flower pressed inside it to read.

Except that he couldn't read it. The writing on the page was smudged; like the book had been left out in the rain or maybe the flower's moister warped the ink.

Mulder turned to the next page, hoping that he could pick up what the page said by the context surrounding it. But that page was smeared as well and the page after that. In fact, most of the book was filled with smeared pages, like Spencer Collins wasn't careful to let the ink dry before turning to the next page, thus smearing it.

However, the first dozen or so pages were clear and easy to read. Mulder skimmed through, noting the loose, wandering style of Spencer Collin's narrative. The first part was filled with useless stories about how the cook smacked his hand for sticking his fingers in the melting chocolate for dessert and how he once played cricket through the rose garden with his friends.

In spite of this mundanely to the journal, the last clearly written page was quite informative.

"Father invited the seamstresses from town today. I am to have a new suit coat made," Mulder read aloud. "He says that it is time to involve myself in the family business and that I am to help him negotiate with the Du Pres family. The Du Pres's are a boring family who live near here and are quite full of themselves. It's rumored that they have winched every tavern wench on the east coast. If any of them messes with my sister Danielle, I will throw them off Widow's cliffs, that is if Danielle doesn't throw them off first."

If Mulder remembered the legend of Spencer Collins properly, it was the arrival of the Du Pres's that sparked off the tragedy. The Du Pres's brought with them Spencer Collin's secret lover as well as his eventual wife, Angelina.

There had to be more clues here. The ghost of Danielle wouldn't have led him here without reason. The journal must hold more clues for him to find.

* * *

Alex found Mulder like that hours later, ensconced in the library, flipping through another book he had pulled off the shelves. Piles of books surrounded him while the journal lay nearby on the seat of the next chair over.

"Find any witches, yet?" Alex asked, coming up behind the beautiful agent and circling his arms around him. Alex leaned over Mulder's shoulder to read over the page he was looking at.

"Actually, quite a few. The family was accused of witchcraft quite a few times. They had to endure many different witch trials, sometimes winning, sometimes loosing."

"Ok, we have screaming skull ghosts and witches. Any warlocks, vampires, were wolves?"

"You don't know much about the Collin's family, do you? They're the original X-Files. The local magistrates had to deal with vampires, were wolves, and even a Frankenstein like monster." Mulder turned around to kiss Alex lightly on the lips. "And they're not warlocks, they're male witches."

"Please don't tell me that you're going to tell me their history tonight. I don't want a bedtime story."

"Mmm," Mulder said, nuzzling Alex's neck, "I can think of better bedtime activities."

"Just so long as we don't break the bed. Then I would have to fix it!" Alex explained. "Come on, Virginia has dinner all ready. I told her we'd eat with her then clean it up ourselves."

"More time alone with me?"

"Of course," Alex said, sashaying his hips as he walked out the door.

Mulder followed eagerly.

Dinner could have been quiet. It probably would have been quiet if Mulder hadn't joined. He talked animatedly throughout dinner, waving and explaining how wonderful it was to be at Collinwood manner and the wonderful research he could get done. He skimmed over how he found it and moved on to what he had read and now understood about the fabulous house.

Virginia and Alex just smiled companionly over the table, waiting for Mulder to talk himself out. He was still talking when the others got their fill and Virginia begged her leave.

Alex mutely started clearing the table, smiling affectionately the whole time. No wonder Mulder was so oral; he exercised those muscles so much.

Alex took care of the big plates; the bowls of potatoes, the salad, and the main course of ham while Mulder took care of the drinks and condiments. He was putting away the horseradish sauce when he became very silent.

Worried, Alex hurried over to see what was the matter.

"Fox?"

Mulder smiled and pulled out the bottle of Hershey's syrup.

"Oooh, chocolate milk," Alex exclaimed, pulling out the milk and getting a glass.

"Um, actually, I was thinking that since we have a four poster bed and all..."

Alex's jaw dropped. "You want... you want to tie me up?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I want to tie you up and lick you all over," Mulder said with a gleam in his eye. He poured out a dollop of the sauce on his fingers and coated Alex's lips with it. He then was kissing his lover in earnest, making sure to lick all the chocolate off his lips and tonsils.

* * *

They both fell asleep after stripping the bed with linins. Alex had the slack jawed look of someone well fucked while Mulder had a smirk of someone who'd just gotten his cake and ate it too, which was quite accurate.

During the night, Mulder woke up for a while, appreciating the beauty that was his lover. It had been so cute to see Alex hesitate at not just being tied up but also of getting down and dirty on the sheets. Mulder had to promise to do the laundry himself tomorrow before he got his little rat subdued. It had been quite the banquette as Mulder had explored that wonderful body.

It was apparent to Mulder that Alex hadn't been made love to too much. He was a bit hesitant to explore Mulder's body and missed some obvious male hot spots. Alex seemed to go more towards the actual act or towards blowjobs, skipping the exciting foreplay. It had been a joy for Mulder to show him just how much secondary routes could be.

It made Mulder curious as to what else he could teach the other man.

Alex whined in his sleep, his face twisting in a grimace. He curled up a bit, as if protecting himself, causing Mulder to act without thought. He pulled his wonderful lover into his arms, running a soothing hand over that smooth and perfect backside.

In his sleep, Alex shrieked and batted at Mulder, like he was trying to push him away and pull him forward at the same time. He cried out one more time before flopping over on his other side and curling the other way, his head back, arms forward, and legs down.

Mulder shushed him and fitted his body as best he could to Alex's distress one. It had the desired effect and Alex slipped off into a more peaceful sleep. After a while, Mulder was lulled to sleep himself by Alex's steady breath.

* * *

It was much later; in the early lights of dawn that Mulder woke a second time. The problem was, that this time he woke up to the absence of warmth besides him. The sheets were quite cold and most of them had been dragged off the bed and trailed onto the floor.

Worried, Mulder wrapped a sheet around him against the chill of the morning air and went in search of his lover.

He checked the bathroom first and then moved onto the kitchen. When no Alex was apparent, he looked quickly outside, poking his head out the door and yelling for Alex but when no answering cry came, he then moved onto the rest of the house.

He finally found Alex in the main living room at the front of the house. The room was freezing cold in spite of the roaring fire in the fireplace. The large glass doors had been left open and Mulder crossed the room to close them.

"Jesus, Alex, still used to Siberian winters?" Mulder joked as he turned around rubbing his arms. "I'm guessing the fire was for more aesthetic purposes then just that you were cold."

Alex didn't respond. He just continued to stare into the fireplace. In fact, his whole continence was off, now that Mulder looked. Alex didn't have any goose pimples, despite the cold in the room and other parts didn't shrink either. Mulder had thought nothing of Alex's nakedness but now that he was standing here examining the man, it did seem a bit odd. It wasn't that Alex was shy about his body, he was just cautious because he didn't want to flash Virginia or her nephew and would wear at least jeans or a sheet when leaving the bedroom.

"Alex, are you all right?" Mulder stepped forward into the other man's view.

When Alex didn't respond, Mulder reached out a hand to touch his shoulder.

The response was immediate. Alex's eyes snapped open widely then scanned the room. His arms also jerked up and he took half a step away from Mulder.

"Wha... huh...," Alex shook his head trying to clear it before taking in the room again. "Mulder, what's going on?"

"I don't know. I found you standing here a few minutes ago. I think you were sleep walking."

"I don't sleep walk." The tone he used was firm and would break no argument.

"Do you remember how you got here or when you built the fire or anything?" Mulder peered over Alex's shoulder, noting that the sheets had been pulled off the furniture and a couple piece had been moved. "Do you have any memories of anything at all?"

"No, I... no," Alex was clearly puzzled.

"Have you had any weird dreams lately or been under a lot of stress?"

"No. Yes. Arg, I've been having dreams about you and me lately. They're not bad," Alex smirked at Mulder. "But I keep calling you something else and you're dressed differently."

"How so?"

"Well, I keep calling you Jamison," Alex furrowed his brow, trying to recall all the details of his strange dreams. "And you call me your little cat, though I think you called me Spencer once or twice."

"I think I like that," Mulder said with a gleam in his eye. "Do you remember the dream you had tonight? A dream you had a few minutes ago? Some occasional sleepwalkers dream of some event or something and respond to it in their sleep. I've read a report of a woman nervous about her travel plans in the morning and find that she had repacked everything in her sleep. Another one I've read is a man in Kentucky who had a presentation about a building he designed and found that he had reconstructed the entire thing out of Popsicle sticks."

"No, I don't remember any dream but yeah, I think you're right, I was having a dream. I was dreaming about... I think it was about you but that's not right. You were in the dream but it was about... It was... I don't know. This is not good, Mulder."

"Well, I think it's a good thing that we have a four poster bed."

"Mulder, I'm being serious here."

"And you don't think I am? I think keeping you tied to that bed as my sex slave is a very good idea."

"Fox William Mulder, you are one exasperating man."

"Hmm," Mulder moved in to kiss the frustrated look off of Alex's face. "Do that again."

"What, kiss you?"

"No, say Fox, I want you to call me Fox. I think it's sexy."

"Sexy?!? I'll show you sexy," Alex moved in for the kill, throwing his arms around the older man and pressing deep kisses. Mulder was quickly overbalanced and fell to the floor, Alex straddling him.

"Ever done it naked by the light of a fire?" Alex whispered huskily in Mulder's ear as he nibbled on it.

Mulder cupped Alex's ass cheeks, squeezing them hard, hard enough to make Alex squeak.

"No, don't believe I have," Mulder easily lied.

Above them, the woman in the portrait frowned deeply. She did not want to see this.

* * *

Mulder sat down in the seat by the window in their shared bedroom. It was midmorning and he could hear Virginia vacuuming somewhere. Alex could clearly be seen through this window on the roof of the outdoor summer kitchen fixing it.

He thought that he could study the history of the family some more and had settled down in the chair for the afternoon. The room was quite bright and cheerful in the day. It made Old Lucy look mundane and plain, even if she was a human skull.

To his side on the table, he had a glass of tea with lemon slices in it and a pile of books he had brought down from the library. The first book he picked off the stack was Spencer Collin's journal. Maybe there were things he missed on his first reading.

Mulder read the journal slowly and in depth, turning over the information on the clearly written pages in his mind. There really didn't seem to be anything there. He read the part about the father summoning the seamstresses and about the Du Pres's coming. He turned the page to look at the unreadable pages.

Except that they were not unreadable anymore. He could clearly see the scrawling script talk about gossip the seamstresses had passed on. Excited, Mulder flipped a couple more pages, skimming them. Dozens more were clearly written, up until the time the Du Pres's actually arrived and had a formal dinner between the two families.

Mulder was overjoyed. There was more of the journal to read; maybe that was why Danielle directed him to the book. If he hadn't been so pig headed he would have thought of the fact that the library wasn't very well lit and that it would have been harder to read the journal. The light was quite bright by the window and he could read so much. Too bad the rest of the journal was slightly smudgy but maybe with time and patience, he could transcribe some of what Spencer Collins had written.

~zz~

    Fox swallowed the last of his luke-warm tea and then settled in for an afternoon of reading. He gave one last glance at his lover, who had now stripped off his sweat-soaked T-shirt. The Russian would be busy all day with the leaky roof, leaving him the whole afternoon to read the journal. Virginia was out in the gardens paying some TLC to the tomato plants and Cristoff was no where to be seen. As he stared at his shirtless lover Mulder was caressed with a sense of Deja´vous.

Smiling, because he loved such mysterious feelings, he bent his head to the antique tome.

~zz~

....June 12, 1797.

After the gossiping seamstress left, I still continued to bemoan the fact that we had to invite the Du Pres family to dinner to my father; but he was not listening to me in the least. I knew what was going on. Father was grooming me for the Du Pres girl, I knew it with out ever being told. Susannah is her name. I am only eighteen years old, what do I want with a wife yet? I´ve still a lot of living to do, even if I´ve only Collinsport to do it in. The seamstress had babbled on about a Du Pres ‘boy´. All father had said about him however, was that he was the same age as me. Hardly a boy then! Angelique will be attending tonight´s festivities, as well as some other snobbish folk who live on the ‘hill´. She´s just one more reason why I don´t want to go. She works for us, yet, father and mother insist on inviting her as a guest to all of their parties. I get tired of being cornered by her. One day, I´ll forget that I´m a gentleman and push her away all together. But as it is, mother is very fond of her, so I´ll continue to put up with her unwanted attentions. Personally, I´d rather be out riding my new stallion and shooting rabbits in the gardens. But since I can hardly to that at night, there is no way to escape the dinner. Well, father is calling, the butler is greeting our first guest´s to arrive coaches.....

~zz~

Fox flipped the page, engrossed in the young man´s woes. If only life were that simple again.

~zz~

Virginia straightened up and her back groaned in complaint. She was getting far too old to be stooped over in a country garden pulling weeds. Soon though, her mistress will once again arise from the other world and then she will be rewarded for her century of devotion. Virginia turned to watch the lovely young Alex work. The old woman wondered what Angelique would think of Alex and Fox. They were together again, as was their destiny. Angelique and Cristoff had broken them up once before, the entire tale ended terribly. Would this time be different; would Angelique finally have her ‘Spencer´? And would Cristoff have his ‘Jamison´? Only time and patience would give the answers to those questions. Virginia turned her head away from Alex and back to her work. Her mistress would arrive soon, until then, there was much to do at the mansion, preparing it for her arrival.

~zz~

Tonight I met the Du´Pres ‘boy´. I think I am still grinning from the evening. I was standing in my customary place at the end of the receiving line when the Du´pres entered. The senior Du´Pres presented his invitation to the butler, who then announced him. I smiled as each of the family members entered into the grand hall, but it soon fell when Jamison followed Susannah in. I just stared at Jamison, he was so...beautiful. I felt the butterflies start fluttering in my stomach. And though I desperately wanted to deny it, I was instantly attracted to Jamison. He was introduced to me and we shook hands. I can still hear his voice echoing inside of my head. He smiled and greeted me like the man that I am. His eyes sparkled and were a very beautiful mixture of green and honey brown. His lips were full and delightfully red. I swallowed hard and returned his greeting, hoping beyond hope that the hall was dim enough not to show him the blush that now stained my neck, ears and throat. He held my hand in a firm grip as we shook, I was enthralled by his beauty. He stared at me back for a minute longer than a man ought to stare at another, he felt the same stirrings I did, I´m sure of it. Finally, he smiled and we parted, I only hoped that father did not see the look of disappointment on my face when he released my hand. Finally, I found my voice and offered Jamison a cordial, which he accepted. It was as easy as that. After pouring, I escorted him to a table and then we spent the entire evening sitting close and talking. Jamison loves horses too and game hunting. This thrilled me beyond believe. I invited him back to the estate the day after tomorrow. I am going to take him for a long ride over our lands. I´m sure our cook Virginia will make me a nice picnic lunch. I want our day to be just right. Just thinking of Jamison gives me a giddy feeling inside my stomach. I´m sure he feels the same. All the same, I guess I will find out when we are alone in the forest.....

~zz~

“Hmmm.” Murmured Mulder, flipping the page. He stopped reading and looked up and out the window. The deja´vous was back again. For some reason, the party, drinking cordials and horseback riding over the acreage seemed familiar to him. But he had never been on the estate before, so how could that be? Mulder turned his gaze out the window toward Alex who was busy pounding cedar shakes back into place. Maybe he and Alex should take a break in the next couple of days and take the horses for a leisurely ride. Maybe Virginia could build them a lunch too. It struck Mulder as odd that the cook from over two hundred years ago was named Virginia too.

~zz~

***

For once, Alex Krycek slept peacefully, untroubled by visions or nightmares. He lay sprawled upon the four poster bed, arms spread wide, powerful legs covered by twisted, sweat-dampened sheets.

Fox Mulder lay beside him, marveling at the passionate, yet tender lover hidden behind the deceptive facade of a calculating spy.

//Collinwood is full of mystery and intrigue, but nothing here is as fascinating as you are.//

Mulder lifted his upper body, resting his weight on both elbows, fixing his intense gaze on his lover's face. He took in the tousled sable hair; the dark, lush eyelashes that rested upon pale, smooth skin; the pert, impudent bit of a nose; and sweet, pliant lips that called to him.

Unable to deny himself the pleasure, Mulder softly brushed his lavish lips across the parted mouth of his slumbering love. His excitement grew as he tried to drink in all the sensations: the gentle puffs of Alex's warm, soft breaths; the soft yielding of silky lips; the breathless, husky moan pulled from the waking Alex.

Mulder pulled back a few inches from Alex, just far enough to fully view the unveiling of dazzling sea green eyes and the slow, sensual, radiant smile reserved just for him.

//Beautiful. I'm never going to let you go. Things tend to go to hell around us, but we are so right together. All I have to do is convince *you* we can be together long-term.//

"So, Mulder, what will you do today?" Alex's voice was dark and intimate. "Another day of witches, were wolves and ghosts found in the histories of Collinwood?"

Mulder couldn't resist; he lifted his left arm and slowly trailed a finger down the center of Alex's firm, muscled chest, continuing lower, over his stomach and further, only stopping when reaching the already stiff, twitching hardness of the other man's penis. Mulder grasped the shaft firmly, and started stroking, slow and steady. He smiled in response to the tortured groans emitted by the aroused Alex.

"Today, Alex," Mulder growled, "we will not concentrate on spooky tales or evil creatures. Today we concentrate on *us*. We'll go riding, explore the grounds, maybe take a nice picnic lunch with us."

Alex, flushed and panting, could barely find breath for words. "Fox, uhmm...I have w-work to do."

Mulder stopped the stroking motions, which immediately provoked a strangled cry from his lover.

"Fox, please!"

Mulder resumed his movements, this time at a slower, tormenting pace. "Today's our day off, Alex, no house repairs for you. Just you and me, under a clear sky, riding..."

Mulder lowered his lips to Alex's left ear, his voice low and urgent. "I want to *ride*, Alex..."

Alex threw his head back against the pillows, eyes closed, mouth gasping for air. He moaned as he thrust his hips up, seeking the overwhelming pleasure that was so close.

Mulder couldn't stop grinning; he used the copious precome leaking from Alex's penis to smooth the friction from his movements, his strokes now faster and stronger. Mulder was determined to have his way; he stroked a single finger just under the head, gentle and firm against the bundle of nerves. "Alex..."

Alex was beyond reason; the pleasure had built to an unbearable level, the need for release overwhelming everything. As Mulder stroked that sensitive spot one last time, Alex broke, his scream unheard as he lost himself, shuddering through the explosive orgasm.

"Yes, Fox! Yes!"

Mulder watched as Alex slowly recovered from the sensual overload. After a few minutes, he cheerfully leapt from the bed, searching through drawers for casual clothes for both men. Turning back to the bed, he felt another wave of affection wash over him. But that didn't stop him from tossing the blue jeans and t-shirt aimed at Alex's face.

//Direct hit!//

When wary green eyes emerged from behind the white t-shirt, Mulder felt ridiculously happy. It was going to be a wonderful day.

"Get up, sleepyhead. It's time to go riding."

***

In the afternoon light the ancient walls of Collinwood stood impassively watching the couple walk across the estate toward the stables. The sun shone brightly, chasing away the shadows which seemed to cling to everything on Widows' Hill. Alex remained quiet while a highly excited Mulder hurried along. He felt on top of the world just from the beaming smile on Fox's face, and he hoped it all wasn't a dream. Collinwood had a strange, displacing effect on him but he didn't dare mention it to Fox, he was already chasing enough ghosts as it was. A sly grin crept along Alex's face. Fox was just too damn cute for his own good!

Mulder turned back and raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Alex! What are you waiting for?"

Shaking off the persistent oddness, Alex raced on ahead laughing. "I'm waiting for you!"

Breaking into a jog, Mulder followed after his beautiful lover. It didn't take the pair long to meet up at the stable. Playfully chasing one another through the gate, Alex's feet slid in the dirt as Mulder reached out and pulled him close. Nuzzling Alex's neck from behind, Mulder twisted his head around and planted a hot kiss on his lips.

Alex gazed into Fox's eyes, still unable to believe that this was really happening. All the years he'd pinned and dreamed after the surly FBI agent... and now here he was, held in his arms.

"Fox?"

"Yes?" he replied, huskily.

"The food's getting cold," Alex said, hefting the picnic basket.

"I know something better I'd like to eat." He leaned forward and nibbled lightly on Alex's earlob.

Alex moaned softly, each time Mulder touched his skin it lit his body on fire. He took a deep breath and pulled Mulder further inside the stable. "That's why I brought a blanket," he told him.

Nearby, horses whinnied and Mulder nodded across at a black Arabian stallion. "That one reminds me of you."

Alex moved toward the horse and petted him lovingly. "Fox meet Quentin, named after one of the Collins ancestors."

Mulder joined him just outside the gate. "How did you know that?" he smiled, clearly impressed.

Alex shrugged a little. "I found Cristoff in here one evening and he mentioned."

"Cristoff? You know I haven't seen this mysterious nephew of Virginia's yet!"

"Yeah, I can't imagine where he's been hiding." Alex began to walk past each gate. "So, which horse would you like?"

Mulder made a great show of thinking, which only caused Alex to laugh even harder.

"Alright, I know the perfect one for you," Alex smiled, leading Mulder down toward the end. He pointed to a gorgeous chesnut mare. "This is Carolyn, named after a spitfire who used to live in the haunted house."

"Hi, Carolyn," Mulder said, rubbing the horse between the ears. "Alex you should know by now that I don't spit fire, I eat it."

Alex shook his head and lead Quentin out. "Come on you walking hormone," he told Mulder, "let's get this show on the road."

Mulder and Alex rode the two horses across the lush Collinwood grounds. Alex knew of just the right spot to picnic, and he held the jostling basket and the reins tightly. Mulder pulled Carolyn back onto the path for the tenth time, the mare definitely had a mind of her own choosing to wander off when the mood struck. Eventually the trees began to thin and they came to a lake sparkling in the sun.

Mulder breathed deeply. It was so peaceful here, just the sort of place to spend a lazy afternoon. "Alex, it's perfect." Something glinting in the light caught his eye. About two miles away sat a very odd, dilapidated structure. Mulder gaped at what looked to be a miniature version of the millennium dome.

"What's that down there?" He pointed.

Alex followed his gaze. "Oh, that's the old conservatory. The whole thing's about to cave in."

"It's a bit much for a greenhouse," Fox observed.

Alex dismounted and tied Quentin's reins to a nearby tree. "Would you stop wrestling with the Collinwood ghosts!"

With that, Mulder quickly reined Carolyn beside Quentin and tackled Alex as he smoothed out a blanket onto the ground. They fell and rolled on top of one another, Mulder pinning him down.

"Now this is the kind of wrestling I can get into," he smirked.

Reaching up, Alex pulled Mulder over onto his back. Fox lay there spread eagled, and looking positively delicious. Mulder looked up, his mouth parted. Blood boiling, Alex dove down and their lips connected.

Mulder ran a hand down the Russian's strong back as Alex worked his tongue expertly inside of his mouth. Greedily sucking on Alex's probing tongue, Mulder's heart raced as he felt a powerful erection pressing against his thigh.

Breaking the kiss, Mulder looked deep into Alex's burning eyes. "Yes, baby, that's exactly what I need."

Lifting up Alex's shirt, Mulder practically ripped it off his back. His own cock ached within his jeans, desperately yearing for the exquisite warmth of Alex's mouth. Reaching under Fox's tight gray T shirt, Alex quickly lifted it over his head to rest next to his own. Mulder hugged Alex close to his body, their bulging crotches grinding.

Under the shining sun, Alex trailed his tongue down to Mulder's left nipple, all the while expertly unbuttoning Fox's straining jeans. Running his long fngers through Alex's thick dark hair, Mulder gently pressed his head lower. Alex's mouth watered at the incredible sight waiting for him. Slding Mulder's pants and boxer briefs down to his ankles, Alex swiftly removed his hiking boots. Mulder kept a firm grip on his lover's firmly rounded ass.

Alex turned back to his completely naked Fox, desire welling within him from the delectable vision waiting for him. Spreading Mulder's legs wide, Alex wrapped his tongue around the throbbing, hard shaft. Immediately, Mulder gasped with pleasure as Alex's lips sucked him all the way down to the base.

Not to be outdone, Mulder struggled to catch his breath and with some effort managed to position himself before Alex's crotch. With one swift movement, he pulled the black pants which seemed to mould to Alex's body down. Mulder licked his lips and took hold of Alex's dick, giving it a few good strokes. He licked at the head and tasted the first sweet drops of precome. It was like an overpowering aphrodisiac to him and he swallowed each inch down his throat. They lay side by side, holding one another in an embrace of lovemaking.

Moistening a finger before returning to Mulder's delicious cock, Alex slid into inside Fox's crack. Mulder graoned against his cock as Alex's finger penetrated him. He bucked his hips wildly, his cock thrusting further into the silky depths of Alex's mouth. He couldn't hold back any longer from the mind blowing sensations. Soon, Alex was greedily swallowing the warmth blasting down his throat. Mulder's cries and velvet tongue around his shaft sent him over the edge. Mulder held his lips around the throbbing cock as it exploded inside him. They both fell into each other's arms, breathlessly sharing a hot kiss.

~oo0oo~

After working up a hearty appetite, the two men had dressed and washed their flushed faces down by the lake. They'd quickly dived into the picnic lunch, inhaling it like they'd inhaled each other.

Alex stood beside Quentin, staring distantly into the woods. He blinked, noticing a hidden path twisting deeper into the overhanging trees. Mounting the horse, Alex trotted him toward the water's edge where Mulder was waiting while Carolyn finished drinking.

"Fox, I'm going to see where that trail leads," he said.

"Alright, I'll be along in a few." Keeping an eye on Alex as he disappeared into the wood, Mulder exhaled deeply. Alex was simply amazing. He always credited himself with having an overactive sex drive, but Alex's was full throttle. He grinned to himself, feeling a stirring in his already heated crotch.

He gazed about the breathtaking landscape, wondering how many Collinses had played, worked and lived by the lake. His eyes fell on the conservatory once more, and Mulder blinked the sun out of his eyes. Far in the distance he could see a young blonde woman, dressed in a flowing white gown entering the derelict building.

"Hey!" he shouted, but the figure paid no head to his warning and vanished inside. Pulling Carolyn away from the lake, he quickly mounted and rode hard down toward the conservatory.

The closer he became, Mulder could see what a bad state of disrepair it was in. It must have been pretty impressive in its hey day, but now it was a death trap. Sliding from the mare, who began to graze in the overgrown grass, Mulder hurried inside.

"Hello?" he called, his voice carrying around the curved walls like an echo chamber. The building was composed entirely of glass; most of the panes were busted and their remains littered the ground.

Venturing carefully further, Mulder cast his keen eyes about for the young woman. "Listen, I saw you come in. It's not safe. Where are you?"

He walked past rows of cracked tables bearing long dead plants. Was the girl hiding, afraid of getting in trouble for trespassing on the estate?

~oo0oo~

An eerie chill passed over Alex and even his horse seemed to sense an uneasiness in the air. The trail was only big enough for Quention to get through, the trees closed in threatening to seal the old path. A strong wind rustled the leaves and a wailing pricked up both Alex and Quentin's ears. He patted the horse reassuringly.

"Don't worry, boy, it's just the widows." He realized he was half trying to convince himself. Alex Kycek didn't scare easily. Damn that cab driver for telling him that legend!

"I think we'd better get back to Fox," he decided. Just as he moved to turn Quentin around, the path abruptly opened out. "Well, what do you think about that?" he asked aloud. With a snort, Quentin trotted on ahead.

Alex gasped, finding a cemetery on the other side of the wood. It was neglected with a rusted fence; the old gravestones covered in moss, leaves, and fallen limbs. "Fox is going to love this," he whispered, knowing full well that Mulder would go ape over a find like this.

He stared about the columns, mausloeums and flaking stones for a moment longer. Then he froze, his eyes growing wide. Standing at the entrance to the cemetery was a stunningly beautiful woman, her ice blue eyes calling out to him. Alex found himself dismounting and moving uncontrollably toward her open arms...

~oo0oo~

A shard of glass crunched under Mulder's hiking boot as he continued to search the conservatory. He'd made a complete circle and the only way inside was the doorway he'd used. Certainly she couldn't have crawled out one of the jagged windows. An excited grin spread across his face. Maybe he'd actually seen another ghost! But this time it wasn't Danielle, no the figure had been too far away. Could it have been Josette? Or Beth? Perhaps it was Daphne? A list of names from the history book flashed through his mind.

Mulder stopped his frenzied pacing and froze. A loud cracking broke out high above him. He swallowed hard and nervously looked up. The fragile glass was splintering in delicate spider web patterns all around.

Heart pounding, Mulder instinctively covered his head as the glass imploded into a million sparkling fragments...

Mulder felt, rather then heard the loud rumble as more of the Conservatory cealing caved in. He had a split moment to worry what would happen to Alex if he died here when he felt the large metal beam crash into him, pinning him to the floor and throwing him into darkness.

A little ways off, Christoff sniffed the air, his whole body aroused as he smelled the fresh scent of blood. The desire to feed was overwhelming and in fact overtook him as he moved through the ruins to the uncounsious body laid out to him like a banquite.

He picked up the limp hand and licked the blood oozing from the cuts like he was laping at the finest wine. His arousal grew and he turned the hand over to plunge into the agent's flesh and feed.

So lost was Christoff into the blood lust that he didn't notice Mulder's eyes opening a crack or the groans as the agent regained consiousness.

Mulder opened his eyes to the delisious sensations running down his arm and straight into his cock. He couldn't help but get hard even though he hurt terribly all over. It felt like the some one was licking and biting his arm and it didn't hurt or anything, in fact if felt too much like Alex was giving him a blow job.

To his horror, it wasn't Alex sucking at his arm, it was someone or maybe something else. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, his head felt very musty and full of cotton but he was sure *this* wasn't right. Mulder pulled feebily to get his arm back.

Upon feeling his victium struggle, Christoff came back to himself and chuckled in delight. "I really have to hand it to you, old witch, that was very cleaver, luring him into my hiding place and offering him up to me. You thought that I would kill this one, finish the job you started with the roof, leaving the other free and unattached for your manipulations. No, it will not end like this." His smile was ferile as he easily lifted the beam pinning the agent to the ground, thus freeing him. Mulder had slipped back into uncounsiousness, enabiling Christoff to easily pick the man up and carry him out of the Conservatory.

Outside, the mare grazed but bucked when Christoff emerged from the building. The animal skittered away, not trusting the man but a few curt words and deeply penatrating eyes, Christoff soon had control over the spitfire horse. Carefully, he arranged Mulder in the saddle, positioning him so it would be hard for him to fall off.

Christoff next grabbed the reigns, pulling the horse's head to look directly into his eyes. "You will take this man carefully back to the stables. You will not let him fall off, if he does so, you will guide another to where he rests." He stroked along the horses head and pointed the mare in the direction in which she was to go.

The mare followed orders, going gently over the path, not letting her burden fall.

The beautiful, blue-eyed woman beckoned to Alex, and suddenly, the surroundings around him changed. The sky, already in the throes of dusk, darkened more and the air around the woman became thick, like mist; the scent of lavender perfumed the air heavily.

Alex felt like he was in a dream, but yet, he knew that he was awake. Wasn't he?

Inexplicably drawn by the young woman's yearning for him, Alex took a few, jerky steps towards her.

But then he stopped when a young man, looking very much like Fox appeared in the near distance off to his left. The handsome youth had materialised directly in front of a giant red rose bush that had long since grown wild.

Uncertain of whose arms he should go to now; Alex looked back and forth between the two.

In an effort to sway the Russian, the woman spoke; her voice was soft on the warm breeze. "Come to me Alex, it's me you desire, it is me who has always loved you. I can give you anything your heart desires." Angelique said as she held out her delicate arms waiting for him to come to her.

The name 'Angelique' popped into Alex's head. He wondered why he should know who this lady was, he had never met her before, or had he? The former spy no longer knew what was real and what wasn't anymore.

"Spencer...." Called the male voice.

Alex automatically spun his head to the familiar name. "Jamison?" He asked, more confused than ever.

"Yes Spencer, it is me. Don't go to her, she only wants to own you. Come to me, like you did once before. I promised you once, long ago, that I would love you until the end of time. I'm here now to prove it....Come to me Spencer....come to me."

Jamison's voice floated over to Alex's ears, and suddenly, it seemed right to him. Right that he should want the man named Jamison; a man who looked just like his Fox. Alex turned from his original direction and went directly toward Jamison, whose arms were wide and waiting.

"No!" Screeched Angelique.

Alex stepped into Jamison's strong arms, and he was instantly enfolded into a tight embrace.

Jamison kissed Alex softly on his mouth and sighed, "Go to sleep my pretty."

Immediately upon hearing the command, Alex felt his lids grow heavy, then they shut, and he was asleep.

"You bastard!" Screamed Angelique. "You are not allowed to interfere!"

Jamison's image disappeared, and Cristoff's replaced him. He still held the limp, slumbering Alex in his arms. He crooked his strong arm under Alex's knees and easily scooped the up Russian. Cristoff shot Angelique, a triumphant look. "All's fair in love and war Angelique."

"He's mine."

"Angel, please, screeching like a pea-hen does not become one of such beauty as yours."

"You vile....blood sucking...." Hissed the very angry Angelique.

"Now, now my pet, you sound just like the town gossips....tsk, tsk, tsk, such language." His exaggerated voice admonished.

Cristoff was relishing that for once, he had the upper hand.

"I served up that re-incarnation of Jamison Du pres` on a silver platter for you. Why did you come here and ruin my attempt at Spencer?" Angelique managed to regain her composure. She was positive that Cristoff would take her offering, readily, if not greedily. Thus removing the only real hurdle between her and Spencer.

"Because my darling, giving me Jamison like you did was just too easy. These men are not Jamison and Spencer, oh, they are re-incarnations of them, but they are not those two boys. Fox and Alex are different, their love for each other is stronger then even they know, we must win them over without trickery. You must become human again Angelique and then tempt Alex. Maybe this time he will actually fall for your charms." The alluring vampire laughed softly at his rival

Angelique threw Cristoff a cruel smile. "And maybe the beautiful Fox will come to you willingly this time, and not be taken by force...hmmm."

"Are you challenging me Angel."

"Yes, I am my darling. I will become mortal once again, and then we shall see who succeeds in winning the other first."

Cristoff loved a challenge. "Then it is a bet. The loser will be damned to hell for all eternity...."

"And the winner will spend all of eternity, living out their dreams with their intended." Finished Angelique.

Her image faded away, and Cristoff was left alone in the dark, with Alex. Unable to resist, Cristoff put his lips to Alex's very sexy, pulsing carotid artery. He gently sunk his teeth in and took a small sip.

Alex's body stiffened slightly in response to the stimuli; in his dreams, it was Fox who was roughly nibbling at his neck.

The Russian's blood was hot and flavoured with the spices of his picnic dinner. The green-eyed man was absolutely delicious and Cristoff desperately wanted to keep drinking, but that would be against his and Angel's rules of the game. So mustering all of his self-control, Cristoff reluctantly pulled out. He balanced the sleeping man in his arms, and set off for the mansion.

~Z~

The horse entered the darkened horse barn and rearing up she dumped her burdened to the ground then she wandered over to her customary stall to await her evening oats.

Fox's limp body hit the ground; his fall was broken by the sawdust that covered the hardwood floor. The bump knocked him into consciousness. Fox rolled to his back and his eyes fluttered open. He blinked them clear, taking him several seconds to realise where he was. The last thing he could remember was chasing you young woman through the dilapidated conservatory. He wondered why his head ached and raised his right arm and pushed his damp bangs away from his sweaty forehead. In the dim barn light, he caught sight of blood and froze. It took Fox a few seconds to focus his eyes, and once he did, he slowly pulled back his hand from his face and studied the marks at his wrist.

Were they teeth marks? He asked himself.

It was at that point that Fox found the strength to sit up, which he did slowly. Looking around, he realised that Alex was not in the barn with him.

Strange. He thought that Alex was with him in the shattered conservatory, sucking...his wrist? Fox studied the rapidly healing marks again. No. That wasn't right. Alex had taken a different trail than him. Suddenly worried about his lover, Fox jumped up to his feet. But it was way to soon to try and stand up. His head swam dizzily in circles and the agent had to grab the side of one of the stalls in order to steady himself. Fox looked up and out the large barn entrance and saw that it was full dark already. Now he really was worried. Why wasn't Alex here with him, in fact, how did he even make it back to the barn. Mulder turned and saw that his horse was in her stall, still saddled. When his eyes went back to the doors, Fox could see a large figure approaching in the moonlight.

In the dark-shadow's arms, was a limp body.

"Alex!" Cried Mulder, and headache be damned, he ran for his lover, whom he thought was dead.

~Z~

"Time to wake pretty." Whispered Cristoff into Alex's delicate ear when he saw Fox running toward them.

Holding onto a stall-gate for support, Fox found the strength to haul himself toward the stable entrance. The shrouded moon offered little light, and as his hazel eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could clearly make out Alex being carried by Cristoff!

"Alex!" he shouted. Forgetting his headache, Fox hurried toward his lover. "What happened?"

"He took a nasty fall from his horse," Cristoff answered silkily. "I just happened to be on that part of the grounds when I saw it happen."

Alex stirred and held a hand to his dazed head. Finding himself in another man's arms, he jumped and Cristoff gently sat him down.

"What the hell happened?" Alex asked, aloud. "Did a truck run me down?"

"Cristoff says you took a fall from your horse," Mulder told him, eyeing Cristoff carefully.

Cristoff merely nodded. "Yes, you did. Poor Quentin became spooked."

"By what?"

"Spooked?" Alex repeated, half to himself. At the very back of his mind he could see a beautiful blonde woman draped in white, like a forgotten dream.

Mulder took Alex aside, feeling somewhat uneasy in Cristoff's presence. "Alex, I don't understand any of this. Something strange happened to me after you left."

Alex sighed heavily, sensing a familiar Mulder conspiracy theory at work. "What do you think my falling off a horse means?"

"Why should it mean anything?" Mulder was taken aback by Alex's cavalier attitude. "We both know something is happening here. Something that has no explanation."

High above, thunder rumbled and a storm began to form.

~*~*~*~*~

Angélique's spirit drifted through the eerie darkness between worlds. Anger had forced her to make a pact with the insolent Cristoff. How dare he defy her after she'd given him the gift of eternal life.

Floating between the ash-colored columns, she moved with determination through the sulphurous mist. In the distance she could hear cries of torment. Plumes of sparkling fire appeared all around.

Her journey ended before an immense figure draped in black. An elongated hood hid any trace of the evil figure's features.

Angélique bowed her head in supplication. "Great Diablos, I seek your help," she whispered.

"Angélique," his voice boomed. "You have served me well in the past."

"I must return to the land of the living to complete my curse," she said.

Diablos crossed his cloaked arms, regarding her as a plaything. "If I do this, what will you give me in return?"

At this, Angélique looked up. "The soul of an innocent who dares to stand between me and the one I love."

A cracking bellow of thunder resounded off the Netherworld chamber. Angélique's use of the word 'love' being forbidden.

"NO!" Diablos cried, pointing a finger at the ghostly witch. "If you return as a mortal, it must be to fulfill the curse, nothing more."

"Yes, I understand."

"If you have not succeeded, you will take the innocent's place here."

"There is another who might prevent my plans," Angélique quickly interjected. "I must have my powers when I return. It is the only way I can propogate the curse."

After a long silence, Diablos spoke. "Agreed."

Angélique bowed once more and her spirit began to fade. She smiled a secret smile. She would defy him anyway...

~*~*~*~*~

Opening the great oak doors, Mulder helped Alex into the foyer. Cristoff followed close behind, keeping a close watch on the pair. Hearing the commotion, Virginia rushed in from the drawing room.

"Could you get Alex something warm to drink?" Mulder asked.

"Fox, I said I was fine," Alex replied.

Virginia was at his side in an instant. "What happened?" she demanded. Mulder noted that she aimed her accusutory tone at Cristoff.

"He took a fall while exploring the eastern part of the estate," Cristoff told her.

Mulder looked from one to the other. It was almost as if Virginia and Cristoff were playing a verbal tennis match. He decided to pursue this line of thought for later. Holding tight to Alex's firm waist, he headed upstairs.

"Come on, what you need is a hot bath and plenty of rest."

"Yes, nurse."

As the two lovers ascended the great staircase, Virginia shot a look full of daggers at the smirking Cristoff.

~*~*~*~*~

A short time later, both Mulder and Alex sat inside a large tub filled with steamy water. Alex sat with his back to Fox, who gently scrubbed his body with a sponge.

"Who would have thought a picnic could turn into such a disaster?" Alex said, closing his eyes as Fox's hands kneaded his back muscles.

"Oh, I wouldn't call it a complete disaster," Mulder replied, remembering their passionate lovemaking. He paused in his ministrations at a strange bruise on Alex's neck. "How did you get this?" he wondered.

Some hidden instinct forced Alex to shy away from Mulder's question. "From the fall," he told him, although he couldn't quite remember tumbling from the horse. Alex glanced back at the quizzical look on Fox's gorgeous face. "Stop worrying, it's nothing. This house is really starting to get to you."

"I think you're right," he said, slowly. "Alex, I saw a ghost."

"You saw a what?" Alex turned round in the tub causing the warm water to splash over the sides.

"The ghost of Danielle Collins to be precise," Mulder continued. "She lead me to a closed off section of the house. It's funny because she looked exactly like Scully."

Alex reached forward and pulled Mulder in close until their noses touched. "Baby, are you sure you weren't dreaming?"

"Of course not!" he protested. "It's just that ever since you showed me Jamison's portrait, I haven't been able to get him out of my mind. It's almost as if we're connected in some way."

"The only connection I want you to make is with me," Alex said, dreamily.

Distracted by his thoughts, Mulder pulled away. "But what if I am his reincarnation?"

~*~*~*~*~

With hurricane like force, the storm wind whipped about the walls of the great house. Inside the room that he and his lover now shared, Mulder was curled up next to the roaring fireplace. From his position he watch Alex sleep in the enormous canopy bed.

In his hands laid the journal of Spencer Collins, and in his lap the Collins family history book. The answers he needed to solve the myteries of Collinwood were inside these tomes. The spirit of Danielle Collins had led him to the journal for a reason. With pencil and notepad in hand, Mulder began to read.

Opening the fragile cover, Mulder began to read by the flickering firelight.

May 21st, 1797 'How much longer must I hide my feelings? The moment I laid eyes on Jamison duPrés I fell in love.'

June 10th, 1797 'Angélique came to my room today, professing her love. It made me heartsick to turn her down. She is a lovely girl, but I cannot love her. My heart belongs to another.'

June 11th, 1797 'Last night I survived a terrible experience. For no reason I began to choke. Mother called Doctor Reeves and he could not fathom the source of my ifliction. All were greatly distressed, even poor Angélique. I feel that it was Jamison's love that saved me, for he never left my side once.'

June 15th, 1797 'What a wonderous day! I spirited Jamison away to spend time alone together at the seaside. His laughter fills my soul with joy.'

June 17th, 1797 'I confided in Danielle that I'm going to ask Jamison to stay with me. I cannot bear the thought of him returning to Martinique. She is happy for the love I have found, and distressed by several odd happenings.'

June 18th, 1797 'I can barely write. My dear sister has taken ill. Her malady is as mysterious as mine. God help me. What must I do?'

June 20th, 1797 'I am a man lost to himself. Danielle is well, but I had to take drastic actions to save her. Angélique came to me two nights ago, promising to heal my sister for a price. She showed me a mixture of special herbs. For a moment, Danielle's condition became better. I agreed to Angélique's price, but now I have broken Jamison's heart by taking her as my bride. Only she and father remain happy.'

June 22nd, 1797 'The young governess has been arrested for practicising witchcraft! Both Jamison and Danielle are determined to testify on her behalf, against my father's wishes.'

June 23rd, 1797 'Danielle came to me with a tale so fantastic that I can barely write. She believes my wife to be responsible for the strange occurrences at Collinwood. My dear sister claims I have been bewitched.'

Mulder stared ahead after reading the final entry. Putting the journal aside, he lifted the heavy history book and searched for the events of 1797. Two days after the last inscription, Danielle Collins died under mysterious circumstances.

He flipped back and found the entry for Jamison duPrés:

André duPrés and his son Jamison arrived from the West Indian island of Martinique in the summer of 1797. During a business excursion between themselves and the Collins family, young Spencer Collins fell in love with Jamison, a man he described as delicate and warm as the trade winds. He was quite taken with Jamison's beauty, and his feelings were equally tender. They became lovers and vowed to always be together. Walter Collins, Spencer's father, disapproved of the relationship. To appease him, Spencer married the maidservant Angélique Bouchard. However, Spencer and Jamison's love could not be broken. Until Jamison's untimely death shattered their dreams. In a tragic accident, Jamison duPrés fell from the cliff at Widows' Hill, just a few hundred yards from the Great House. Spencer grieved himself to death, claiming that Jamison would haunt his heart forever.

Glancing up, Mulder wiped at the tears flowing down his cheeks. He was deeply puzzled that there was no mention of Angélique's fate. This struck him as odd for a lady who seemed to be revered enough to have a portrait hanging in drawing room downstairs.

He looked down at his notepad, surprised to find that he'd unconsciously doodled the name Jamison over and over again.

Across the room, Alex tossed restlessly. Sighing faintly, he clutched at the sheets. In his dreaming mind an image began to form. He saw a beautiful young woman, rivulets of golden hair framing her face, wearing an eighteenth-century gown. Illuminated in an eerie light, she approached him from the darkness, calling...

'Spencer, can you hear me? Spencer? I must see you and tell you what the future holds. We will be together again. You think you can escape me, but you're wrong. The curse will return...'

Alex awoke and sat up in bed with a start.

A flash of lightning illuminated the windows, and Mulder jumped as a loud knock resounded from downstairs.

~*~*~*~*~

Mulder was surprised at how quickly Alex threw back the sheets and slid into a dressing gown. He actually had to keep time with him as he hurried downstairs to answer the door.

The woman who stood framed in the doorway was simply beautiful. Her petite figure was clothed in a forest green coat. Short, raven hair framed her smiling face. Her eyes... Her eyes were the most stunning shade of blue he'd even seen.

There was something about them that seemed... familiar.

"Thank goodness," she cried. "I didn't know if anyone lived here."

"Come in," Alex offered, standing back.

"Thank you," she said.

"Where were you headed?" Mulder asked, finding his voice.

"Oh, I was on my way to Rockport when my blasted car broke down," she told him. "Where are my manners? I'm Cassandra Blair."

Alex smiled warmly, and Fox felt an irrational jolt of jealousy. "Cassandra, I'm Alex, and this is..."

"Mulder," Mulder answered for him.

"It was very dangerous to take a trip on a night like this," Alex said, leading Cassandra inside the drawing room.

"Don't worry about me, I'm a fighter. I wouldn't be here if I weren't."

~*~*~*~*~

"What a beautiful room!" Cassandra twirled around, taking in the antique furniture, the portraits of Collins ancestors. Alex had left to fix her a warm drink.

Mulder eyed her warily. Something about her tone... "You've never been here before?" he ventured.

She looked at him, surprised. "Why no, Mr. Mulder. How could I?" Turning, she ran her hands along the back of a chaise lounge. "You know, I've always dreamed of living in a house like this."

"Here you are," Alex called, walking back into the drawing room with a hot cup of coffee.

At that precise moment, Mulder gasped and his hand went to his mouth. The portrait of Angélique!

"Fox, what is it?" Alex asked.

Taking hold of his arm, Mulder ushered him out of the room. He looked back at a perplexed Cassandra. "If you'll excuse us a moment?"

Alone in the drawing room, Cassandra moved past the grand piano as lightning flashed outside. She paused before the portrait of Angélique Collins. Running a hand through her hair, she stood frozen. Then, a small laugh escaped her lips...

~*~*~*~*~

"Mulder, what's the matter with you?" Alex demanded once they were out in the foyer.

"Have you noticed the resemblance?"

"What do you mean?"

Mulder took a deep breath. "Cassandra looks exactly like the woman in the portrait."

"Angélique?" he guessed. "Angélique Collins would be nearly 200 years old!"

"She is Angélique!" he cried. "Oh, I know her hair is different, but..."

"Fox..." Alex started to protest, but Mulder quickly continued.

"Listen, I believe that Angélique may have come back as a ghost."

"But Cassandra is flesh and blood."

"I'm not wrong! And unless we do something, someone will die!"

"Fox..."

"I know it!"

"Who?"

Mulder chewed on his bottom lip. "The only person that Angélique cared for was Spencer Collins..."

Alex exhaled. "Spencer Collins died in the 1700's. Fox, the only people here at Collinwood are you, me, Ginny, Cristoff and Cassandra."

"Then why did she come back?" Mulder asked, pointedly. "The only reason she could have come back is to..."

"What?" Alex folded his arms across his chest.

"To settle some kind of a score. But why? I don't understand it, why?"

Alex wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Fox, the legends about this old place are really getting to you. Why don't you get a breath of fresh air?"

~*~*~*~*~

Dana Scully surveyed the foggy, wet streets of Collinsport with a mixture of skeptisism and trepidation. Call it woman's intuition, but after reading up on the history of this fishing village she had a distinct 'bad feeling' that Mulder needed her help. It didn't aid her conscious that his cell phone remained persistently off.

Booking the first flight to Maine, Scully had arrived in Bangor where she quickly rented a car. The fifty mile drive to Collinsport had not been easy, due to a sudden storm. She didn't find anything unnatural about it. This near the coast, storms could materialize out of nowhere. She remembered her father telling her of several he'd been caught offguard in.

Driving around the deserted streets, Dana sighed wearily. In a way she was frustrated with herself for jumping the gun and come chasing after her partner. Sure, she could clearly see the allure Collinsport's legends held for him. What irriated her the most was that he'd dropped everything just to come up here for no reason.

She sincerely hoped he was alright, because she couldn't wait to scold him good for this one! Finally, lights appeared in the distance. For a moment, she was beginning to believe this was a ghost town.

Pulling into a parking lot beside a wharf. Dana stepped out and locked the car door. Ahead of her shone the glowing lights of a pub called The Blue Whale...

~*~*~*~*~

Opening an elaborate set of glass doors, Mulder stepped out of a side entrance and onto a patio. Thankfully, the storm had subsided. Nearby, he could hear the roaring of the sea.

Why wouldn't Alex listen to him? Surely they had overcome any past obstacles to get where they were. After all the years of antagonism, he truly loved that man with all his heart.

He knew in his gut that there was a connection between Cassandra Blair and Angélique Collins... just like the shock of seeing his own likeness in the portrait of Jamison duPrés.

Mulder wrapped his arms around his body to keep warm against the icy wind. Something floated by, just on the edge of his hearing. A low, desperate moaning. Of course, the Widows. He remembered the legend well. About the wives of fishermen who walked the cliffs of Widows' Hill, mourning their lost loves.

Walking down a flight of stone steps, Mulder wandered away from the great house. Maybe all he needed was a breath of fresh sea air. Anything to clear his head. Alex insisted that the legends of Collinwood were getting to him. Could he be right? Just because Cassandra looked like Angélique's portrait, did it mean she was the same woman? Any more than he could be Jamison?

On the edge of the misty forest, the spirit of Danielle Collins clutched her hands together, watching worriedly...

~*~*~*~*~

Cassandra pulled back the silk curtains and stared down at the forlorn figure heading out toward the rocky cliff. A wicked smile passed over her beautiful face. Opening the window, a breeze filled the room.

She stared ahead, her arctic blue eyes glowing in the darkness.

"The time has come," she whispered. "Your fate was sealed almost two hundred years ago. You cannot alter your destiny. There can never be any escape from me. For the curse will find you and fall upon you."

Leaning forward, her eyes concentrated on Mulder. "Let the curse begin this night. Carried by the wind until it finds its way to the image of one you loved so long ago."

~*~*~*~*~

A few feet from the edge, Mulder peered deeply into the waves crashing against the jagged rocks. Something about this spot seemed so familiar. He couldn't shake the odd feeling of deja vu no matter how hard he tried. All these years he'd been drawn to Collinwood. Perhaps there was a deeper meaning after all...

"Weren't thinking of jumping, were you?" a voice asked.

Mulder whirled round to find Cristoff approaching from the shadows. "Cristoff, you scared the life out of me!" he exclaimed.

"Did I? I'm sorry." The strange, tall man moved in close to Mulder.

"Why did you think I might jump?" Mulder asked him, curiously.

Cristoff shrugged. "Well, you wouldn't be the first. That young woman worries you, doesn't she?"

"I can't help it," Mulder said, not knowing why on earth he should be confiding in this man. Then, he looked at him with suspicion. "What a minute! How did you know about her?"

"Look at me," Cristoff insisted.

Somehow, Mulder could not resist the deep, commanding voice. He turned, and found a pair of eyes blazing intently into him.

"I can make all of your worries and doubts fade away," Cristoff told him. "Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Mulder heard himself saying.

Cristoff opened his arms. "Come to me, now."

Uncontrollably, Mulder moved toward him. Why was he doing this? Soon, he felt the other man's arms around his body. Mulder went completely limp against his touch. Licking his lips at the exposed, tender neck, Cristoff leaned in and placed his mouth against it. In the process, he pulled Mulder's shirt down over his shoulder.

Softly, Mulder moaned. He closed his eyes and imagined that the Russian beauty he'd fallen in love with was lightly kissing his neck, knowing full well what a hot spot it was.

In an instant, a flash of light filled his mind. He could see himself and Alex standing on this very cliff... but they were dressed so differently... in period costumes....

Suddenly Cristoff's fangs sank down. Gasping with pain, Mulder remained still in his arms. Holding him to his body, Cristoff sucked and began to drink the precious fluid. Blood ran out beneath his lips, forming a little river down Mulder's shoulder.

Mulder's face scrunched up, and he mouthed 'Oh God' while his hands clawed at Cristoff's back. Slowly, he fell backwards to the ground. With Cristoff lying on top still drinking, Mulder stared up into the velvet night sky, a tear in the corner of his right eye. Then his eyes drifted shut and his head sank to the side...

Cristoff drank from Fox's jugular until the mortal was perched between the chasm of life and death. Then, with a gentleness that would have surprised all those that knew the blood sucker, Cristoff withdrew his ivory incisors from the soft artery. The Vampire licked at his own plump, red lips, savouring Mulder's life's fluid until the very last drop. Cristoff had wanted so badly to take the beautiful man, to the brink and then into the beyond. Delivering him over to the other side via an exotic ritual of ecstasy and agony.

The lonely Vampire had desperately wanted a partner, someone whom he could keep by his side for all of eternity, he wanted Fox Mulder to be that special someone. Only a few short century's ago, the vampire had intended to take the young Jamison Du'pre as a spouse.

But then Spencer Collins appeared and Jamison's blinders covered his hazel eyes so that he could see no other's face, save for Spencer's angelic one after that.

The old vampire sighed softly as his erection ebbed. He gently set Mulder on his back into the soft, moist grass. Come morning, Mulder would be fine, as Cristoff had not completed the 'coming over' ceremony by forcing the younger man to drink his own blood. Mulder however, would wake up with one hell of a headache and a new found libido.

Cristoff smiled, with Alex as a love interest, Fox's increased sex drive would no doubt be a welcome side effect.

The only reason that Cristoff had not brought Mulder over, or killed the beautiful man was because that while he drank, his highly attuned emotions had tuned into Mulder's. And the vampire saw the images that ran through the agent's mind. Fox thought of Alex and no one else. Only the agent's love for the green eyed man had saved Mulder from becoming a blood dependent immortal.

Cristoff understood, that if he claimed Mulder for his own: the man would pine for his one true love and would continue to do so through out all of time. Now, whether or not Angelique would win the heart of Krycek, that was the unanswered question. Cristoff knew that despite her bold assertions, Angelique would not play the game by the rules. She would call forth any and every spell she knew in order to bewitch Alex into pledging his body and soul to her.

Not wishing to spend all of eternity at the king of the underworld's feet: Cristoff could only hope that Mulder's love for Alex would prevail.

Cristoff smiled and standing up he back away from Mulder, a plan formulating in his ancient mind. He knew how possessive Diablos was of his favoured creatures. Perhaps he should pay the great one a visit to tell him of Angelique's 'real' intentions toward the Russian mortal.

"Wake my love." Cristoff whispered, then his body transformed into a puff of smoke and he was gone.

~oOo~

"What a dump!" thought Scully morosely. After locking the thin door, she threw her travel bag on the bed and followed it down.

With a heavy sigh, she pulled out her cell phone and tried Mulder's number.

And once again, all she received for her efforts was her partners bland, "I'm unavailable, leave a message that you won't be embarrassed for others to hear."

Scully hung up before the message finished and tried to dial Skinner's cell phone. But because of the storm, whose ferocity was increasing, the transmissions could not break through. She picked the land line, deciding to go that route, but there was nothing but dead air. Somehow she thought that the phones going out was probably normal for this area, and for the time of year.

"At least I still have power." Scully said to the old-fashioned dial phone.

As if to prove that her optimism was misplaced in this place, the lights went out, blanketing the agent in total darkness.

"Shit. That's the last time I go for the *glass is half full* philosophy." She slammed down the phone and fished the small halogen flashlight that she always kept in her blazer jacket.

A few minutes later, after discovering that there were no other means of lighting the tiny room, there was a knock at Dana's door.

"Miss Scully." Called a female voice.

Scully opened the door and greeted the cook who doubled as a chamber maid in the day light hours.

"Hello. I'm glad to see you." Scully invited the cook in by sweeping the way for the middle-aged woman with her flashlight.

The cook walked over to a small table and placed the tray she was carrying on top of it.

"Your dinner." She said with a smile, lifting the silver dome that covered the top of a very large bowl of seafood chowder. Accompanying the chowder was a small, hot loaf of sourdough bread with a small bowl of whipped butter and a small plate of raw vegetables and ranch dip. To drink there was a large stein of micro-brew beer and a pitcher of iced water and a glass to go with it. She pulled a barbecue lighter from her apron pocket and lit two large, fat pillar candles that she had brought up along with the food.

"They don't give off very much light, but at least you can see."

"Thank-you." Scully said, twisting her light off and pocketing it. "The food smells delicious." The agent had not eaten since the morning and her mouth was watering.

"Your welcome." The cook went to the door and opened it, hesitating for a second. Deciding, the cook turned and said, "You should not venture outside tonight, it's far too dangerous for a single woman to be out alone. If you need anything, Rueben will fetch it for you. And if you should hear screams from outside, ignore them, it's only the wind, it always wails like an old woman during storms like this." With that, the cook was gone, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Scully pondered the woman's words as she secured the door, wondering if the lady was warning her or simply giving her good advice.

~oOo~

Alex returned from the kitchen, carrying an antique tray with three mugs and a large pot of earl grey tea. He set the tray down, along with the tea, were small bowls of cream, sugar, honey and lemon. Virginia, though conspicuous in her absence had thoughtfully prepared the tray and left it out on the counter.

Alex sat down across from the late night guest and smiled nervously. Angelique was staring at him so intently that he was starting to feel uncomfortable. He broke away from her intense gaze and glanced down at his watch. Fox had been gone for almost half an hour now and Alex was becoming worried. Fox was only supposed to step out for a minute, just for a breath of fresh air. Though the storm had abated, it was now picking up again and Alex couldn't stand to think that his lover was out there, wondering, lost in thoughts of ghosts and reincarnations with out the benefit of a jacket.

"Don't worry for Mr. Mulder, Spence..... uhm ....Alex. I'm sure he'll be fine." Angelique picked up the pot, her delicate hands seemed too small for the over sized crockery, but her hands did not waver as she poured out a cup of tea.

She offered some to Alex, but distracted, he waved her off.

"What did you just call me?" Alex got out of his overstuffed chair.

"I called you Alex...." Angelique stood too, chastising her self mentally for making the simplest of mistakes. Spencer Collins had changed over the millennia, it was time she realised that.

"No, you called me Spencer." Alex walked over to the window and pulled the curtains, his worry for where Fox was came out in the form of anger. Whirling around he half yelled, "Look, my name is Alex not Spencer I'm not some reincarnate of your long lost love."

"Mon` Cher, don't upset your self." Angelique approached Alex and tried using her special gift of a hypnotic voice to 'soothe' her intended.

But it was not working, the younger man was too worked up over his missing lover, Angelique could feel his emotions raging within his self.

"Listen lady, I am not your love. I don't know you and you sure as hell don't *know* me!" Alex turned his back to the beautiful woman and continued to stare out the window, his eyes focuses our into the distance. A bolt of lighting zagged down from the dark skies and lit up a peculiar dark rock on the distant cliff. It took Alex a few seconds to realise that the overly large lump was actually Mulder's still form. But once he did, he spun quickly and meant to leave.

Angelique knowing that Alex had spotted Mulder; tried to intercept her reluctant man.

"Wait a minute." She said, wrapping an unearthly strong grip around Alex's thick wrist. "Please don't go."

Alex briefly dropped his eyes and examined the delicate hand that had such a strong hold on him. Then he raised them again and gave the visitor a sweet, innocent smile. He covered her small had with his own and caressed the spot between thumb and palm seductively, then he dug his own strong thumb in and broke the grip.

Surprised by the pain and by Spencer's very un-chivalrous like actions, she cried out and pulled her hand away.

"I may look like this Spencer dude, but honey, make no mistake, I am nothing like him. Don't ever try to come between Fox and me. `Cause, I have no compunctions about hurting a woman if I have too. I'm no pussy."

With that said, Alex took off running for the front door and within seconds, he was on his way to Fox, who had started to stir.

As Angelique rubbed the feeling back into her hand, she realised that Spencer or rather, Alex was more firmly attached to this Jamison than he was to the last one. Perhaps because he had no sister this time to 'influence' his decisions. Angelique did not like the pain that her loved one had caused her, nor did she appreciate his words. It would take her some time to get used to feeling emotions along with the earthly pains and pleasures of existing in a human body again. Angelique went back over to the window and looked out over to the two men. She had excellent eyesight, and did not need the aid of light to see her Spencer gently pulling Jamison into an embrace.

"Their love is too strong. They were cursed with never being together and your curse is that you'll never have him. You need to understand that."

Angelique heard her faithful maid Virginia speak. She was standing near the table that held the tea.

"Such words Ginny. You cut me with them."

"It is because I love you that I tell you the truth." Virginia picked up the tray.

"I will have him, come hell or high water. No matter what the cost."

"I know mistress." Virginia, though holding the tray, made no motion to leave the heavily shadowed room.

When Alex helped Fox to rise, Angelique scowled. Cristoff was supposed to have taken care of Jamison. She had sent the damnable man out onto the cliffs, serving the handsome Jamison up on a silver platter for the irritating blood sucker. Why had he not finished the job?

"Where is Cristoff?" Angelique inquired, her voice haughty now.

"I don't know." Virginia said, knowing that it was time for her to leave the room before Angelique took her fury out on her.

Alone again, Angelique knew that Virginia had spoken the truth to her.

~oOo~

With a mighty thrust, the main doors of Collinwood slammed open. Alex hurried inside carrying Mulder's pale, limp form toward the great staircase.

From the drawing room doors Angélique watched her Spencer holding his lover through glacial eyes. She quickly stepped forward and stopped him before he could reach the landing.

"What happened to him?" she questioned, with mock-concern.

"I'm not sure," Alex replied, breathlessly. "I think an animal must've attacked him by the cliff. If I didn't know better..."

"What?" she pressed him.

Alex shook his head and nodded toward the door at the bottom of the stairs. "Go and ask Ginny to bring alchohol and bandages up to his room."

"Of course." Angélique bristled at being ordered. She felt a chill run down her spine, flashing back to the days when she was but a maidservant to the DuPrés family. That is until she married Spencer Collins -and she would have him again. Her eyes blazed angrily as Alex and the unconscious Mulder disappeared through the upstairs doorway.

*****

Kicking open the bedroom door, Alex swept inside the room and gently laid Fox on the soft canopy bed's mattress. He leaned in close to his mouth, Fox's usual full, pouty lips were now as ghostly as his skin.

"Fox? Fox, baby, it's me, Alex. Can you hear me?"

His breathing was ragged and shallow. What the fuck could've done this to him? Alex refused to let the legends of Collinwood take over his imagination. He examined the livid red marks on Mulder's neck. This was definitely the work of an animal. Only what kind of animal?

He looked up as Ginny entered the room with a bottle of alchohol in one hand, and a roll of bandages in the other. She gasped at the sight before her.

"My heavens! Is he going to be all right?" Virginia was all too familiar with Cristoff's handiwork. If Fox Mulder died, he would surely rise as a vampire.

Quickly, Alex took the requested items from her and tenderly began to doctor the wounds. There was no blood flow whatsoever. Only a few dried specs on Fox's collar. He applied the alchohol and Mulder flinched a little from the burning sensation. Alex breathed out a huge sigh of relief.

"Ginny," he said, without looking up. "Bring him something warm to drink. A brandy."

Virginia simply nodded and headed back downstairs. She found her mistress waiting impatiently at the bottom of the staircase.

"Well?" Angélique demanded.

"He'll live," she said, moving past her and into the drawing room. Once there, she opened an elegant crystal decanter and started pouring a glass of brandy.

"Why would Cristoff betray me like this?" Angélique wondered aloud. "It was fitting for him to take Jamison's reincarnation."

"If you recall, he was in love with him all those years ago," Ginny reminded her.

Angélique huffed. "All the more reason for him to remove this Fox Mulder! He could have his Jamison and I would have my Spencer."

"He is a complex man," Ginny commented.

"Vampire," Angélique corrected. Ginny nodded and headed toward the foyer. "Just a moment," Angélique called. "Where are you taking that?"

"It's for Mr. Mulder."

Angélique smiled a wicked smile and took it from her grasp. "Why not let me take it, Virginia? I have another task for you. I want you to track Cristoff down and tell him I wish to see him immediately."

The housekeeper courtsied. "Yes, mistress."

As she scurried away to perform her duty, Angélique laughed a little girl laugh. "So Spencer, you wish to have your Jamison tonight?"

The witch hurried up the stairs and down the hallway. She paused outside of an open bedroom door. How ironic, she thought. The exact same bedroom allocated to Jamison DuPrés. From within she could hear Alex speaking soothingly to his lover.

"Fox, everything will be fine, I promise. Nothing's going to hurt you."

Angélique relished the plan forming in her mind. Holding tightly to the small brandy glass, she raised her left hand to eye level. An obsidian ring sparkled under the chandelier. A gift from Spencer Collins. With one finger she lifted the stone to reveal a hidden pocket. Turning her hand, a fine white power slipped from the ring and neatly dissolved in the drink.

Carefully placing the last gauze strip on Mulder's neck, Alex glanced up with surprise.

"Cassandra, where's Ginny?" he asked.

"Oh, she asked if I could bring the brandy to you. She apologized but had something urgent to attend to."

Alex thanked her for the drink and raised Mulder's head a little. "Fox, can you hear me? I need you to drink this. It'll make you feel better."

On the contrary, Angélique mused. You won't feel a thing.

Ever so slowly, Mulder parted his lips and managed to swallow a few drops of the warm liquid.

"There, that's right," Alex coaxed. Putting the unfinished glass down, he looked up at Cassandra. She wore the oddest expression as if she were furious about something.

"What is it?" he enquired.

"Oh, nothing, I'm just concerned about what could have done this," she lied. Actually she was angry that he had not taken the entire draught. He would only sleep through the night with the little he'd taken.

"Well, whatever it is, we're safe in here," Alex told her, escorting her out of the room. "If you'll excuse me."

When the door closed Angélique clenched her palms into fists. Just wait until I get my hands on that duplicitous Cristoff!

Within the bedroom, Alex walked toward the window to close the curtains. For just a moment he thought he saw a flickering light trailing away from Collinwood. When he looked again, it was gone. Dismissing it, he hurried back to Fox's side.

Removing his mud-caked boots, then his shirt and jeans, Alex positioned his long legs beneath the cover and pulled up a heavy comforter. From the sound of his breathing, Alex could tell Fox was in a deep sleep. Hopefully in the morning he could relate exactly what had happened.

In the meantime, he was not going to let his lover out of his sight again. Undressing down to his briefs, Alex slid beneath the sheets and held Fox tightly against him.

*****

Out on the misty grounds of the great estate, Virginia's cloaked figure held a lamp aloft. She had no idea what her mistress intended. If Cristoff had not taken Mulder tonight, he simply had no desire to. She loved Angélique and would abide by her decision.

Making her way through the bramble, she headed away from the mansion toward the cemetery. Nocturnal creatures signalled her arrival. The sea fog was doubly thick and cold here, and Virgina huddle within her cloak.

Pointing the light she eventually found the cracked stone steps leading up to a particular mausoleum. The metal door opened with an ominous creak. Ginny removed her hood and stared into the room in astonishment.

Cristoff's coffin was gone!

*****

Unearthly smoke filled the darkened room and Cristoff materialized. Beside him lay his coffin. He knew that Angélique would be furious and he couldn't risk her wrath. This place would keep him safe... but he may need a servant to protect him during the day.

That would have to wait. At the moment he had more pressing matters. An ancient ritual to invoke...

*****

Angélique stood in the enormous bedroom Ginny had made ready for her. She shut her eyes and concentrated on the sleeping mind of Alex Krycek. She would have to awaken his repressed memories as Spencer Collins. She had to draw him back to her.

"Listen to me carefully," her soft voice echoed. "You will remember the love you felt for Angélique and no one else."

(In their bedroom, Alex stirred in his sleep, muttering the name "Angélique.")

Suddenly the door to her room opened and a breathless Virginia appeared.

(Alex slumped back into his dreams.)

The spell broken, Angélique whirled round.

"Forgive me, mistress," the housekeeper begged.

Angélique noted the distress in her faithful servant's eyes. "Well, what is it? Where is Cristoff?"

"He's disappeared!"

"Explain."

"I cannot. His coffin is missing."

A sly smile spread across the witch's angelic face. So, Cristoff wishes to play games. He thought I would stake him for his betrayal. Clever.

"He cannot hide from me forever, Virginia," she calmly replied. Waltzing across the room, Angélique paused to stare into a gilded wall mirror. She passed a hand over the glass and it filled with an eerie mist.

"Dark forces far and wide show me the one who dares to hide," she chanted.

Slowly the mist parted to reveal a coffin settled within a brick room. Angélique turned to Virginia with a light glittering in her eyes.

"We shall not worry, for Cristoff has hidden himself within the walls of Collinwood."

*****

Morning rays pierced the bedroom and Alex Krycek awoke with a start. He immediately searched for Fox and smiled with relief to find him sleeping by his side. He'd had the strangest dreams last night. However, the mysterious attack on his lover had not been a nightmare. It was real, solid.

Slipping out from beneath the covers, Alex rubbed the back of his head and headed into the adjoining bathroom.

In a little while, he walked back out feeling more refreshed. He stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. Fox had woken and thrown the comforter up over his face.

"Fox? Are you okay?"

"The light," he hoarsely explained. "Too bright."

Alex looked over at the windows. The sun was barely shining through the closed curtains. Fox seemed to be in such distress that Alex grabbed an extra blanket and tossed it over the sturdy curtain rod. The room was pitched into blackness once more.

"Mmm, that's better," Mulder sighed.

Feeling his way back toward the bed, Alex sat on the edge and reached up for Fox.

"What the hell did I drink last night?" Mulder asked.

"Absolutely nothing," Alex told him. "Don't you remember what happened?"

"No."

As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Alex saw that Fox's hands were roaming beneath the covers in a suspicious up and down motion.

"Fox, you don't have a hangover. You were attacked by something out on the cliff last night."

"The cliff?" Mulder echoed.

"Do you remember seeing what it was?"

"I'm telling you I don't remember a thing." Mulder sat up with a start. "My head feels as if it's going to crack open." His voice took on a thick tone. "But I know a way to cure it."

Alex felt hands dragging him down. Mulder moved upon Alex and before they knew it their mouths were locked in a frenzy of passion. Fox embraced him with such ferocity, that Krycek thought the life would be squeezed out of him. Their mouths ground slowly into each other as tongues flicked over teeth, searching for the back of the throat. They pulled away for a moment to catch their breath and then resumed more slowly, lightly kissing each other over every feature of their faces.

Alex resisted, worried about the attack. "Fox, are you sure?"

Mulder answered by pulling Alex to him and thrusting his tongue into his mouth, wanting to taste his lover as much as possible. He was hungry, desperately hungry, for the green-eyed Russian and all the love he offered.

Fox stripped Alex of his straining briefs and now they both lay naked on the bed. The depth of his hunger made him feed on the ambrosia of Alex's body. Mulder kissed the hard nipples lightly, laving them with his tongue as he slid down.

Mulder licked the head of Alex's cock. He heard Alex groaning and this only urged him on as he sucked Alex -wanting to suck the very life out of him. His head moved up and down rhythmically and Alex bucked his hips in time.

Mulder slipped his hands underneath Alex's smooth, ample ass and slid a moistened finger inside. His fingertip felt the warm elasticity of the puckered hole as he applied pressure. His finger slid in to the knuckle. He felt Alex's hips break their rhythm as he adjusted to this new invasion. Mulder rotated his finger in Alex's hole and moved it gently in and out. Alex sighed with pleasure as a feeling of warmth coursed through his body.

Mulder slid his tongue over Alex's balls and made his way down to where the finger joined Alex's body. He pushed up at Alex's thighs and clearly saw the finger penetrating the asshole. He pulled his finger out, and before Alex had time to miss the fullness, slid his tongue in and tongue fucked the quivering hole. He felt Alex's tight muscles clamp, trying to hold the tongue prisoner forever.

Alex gripped the sheets tighter and tighter each time Fox penetrated with his tongue. He lay back with total abandon as Mulder continued tongue fucking his ass, the masculine smell driving him on.

With a groan he twisted his body onto the bed and on top of Alex. His cock rubbed all over Alex's face begging for entry into the warm, inviting mouth. Obediently Alex opened his lips and Mulder's cock slid in. Throbbing flesh and sweet precome invaded the back of his throat.

Mulder had to fuck Alex now. He knew that if he waited any longer, he would literally explode. He disengaged from Alex and Alex reluctantly released Mulder's cock from his mouth.

Keeping Alex on his back Mulder slowly raised his ass. He ran a hand over the nicely formed round ass, exposing the puckered anus which just screamed to be penetrated. He lubricated it further with his tongue as Alex groaned in anticipation.

Mulder reared, his cock pushing between the cheeks, and with a Barbarian grunt he slid in to penetrate Alex. The head slipped in and met some resistance from the tight muscles, and Mulder pushed on his cock. It moved in to about half its length.

Alex hissed through clenched teeth, and he peered into Mulder's wild, lust-crazed eyes.

Mulder licked his lips, relishing his lover's beautiful tensed visage, the neck muscles straining and he pushed again, smooth but firm, so that his cock was buried to the hilt up Alex's ass. Alex moaned loudly and clinged to Mulder's body.

They were joined, entwined, in the ultimate act of desire. Mulder's cock had never felt such exquisite pleasure before. The passage was tight, tighter than anywhere it had ever been. Each movement of his cock sent shock waves to his brain.

Alex loved the expression of pure pleasure on Mulder's face. He was being tightly clasped around the chest as Mulder began stroking his glistening cock in and out.

A warm feeling of ecstasy crept up Alex's body. He'd never felt so turned on in his life. He thrust back to meet Mulder's rhythmic movements to help to take him in deeper.

"Oh, fuck, yes!" Mulder cried out, his voice deep and throaty.

The molten heat in Fox's balls threatened to erupt, and he knew that it would not be long before he came. He wanted to fill Alex's ass and he now started banging away deep and hard.

With a sharp thrust Mulder started pouring all of his ecstasy into Alex's waiting ass. It seemed to go on forever before the throbbing died out. He slumped onto Alex, sweating and panting away. Alex was gasping in great lungfuls of air, literally blown away by his lover.

As Mulder withdrew, he lay side by side with Alex. He leaned over and kissed him tenderly on the mouth.

Alex felt down for Mulder's cock and saw that it was still hard and wet. They looked into each other's eyes and Alex saw the hungry desire that lay festering in Fox's eyes. Mulder stroked his lover's cock gently; he did not want him to come yet, but keep him occupied while he gathered his breath. He looked at Alex who waited expectantly for the next move. Mulder swung himself on Alex's chest and watched delightedly as Alex lapped at his cock before engulfing it in his mouth.

He slid backwards now and his ass cheeks touched Alex's erect and red-hot cock. Alex couldn't keep his eyes off Mulder as he raised his ass above his cock. Holding onto Alex's cock he positioned it below his own hole. Mulder felt the tip of the cock caress his ass before he let himself down.

"Oh, yes!" he cried out, sliding down the entire length of the cock.

He soon got used to the fullness and he started riding Alex's cock. Alex gasped from the exquisite pleasure. The hot friction of Mulder's tight ass was driving his senses into overload. It was tight, really tight. He gritted his teeth as he tried to upend Mulder off the bed with his cock. He held onto Mulder's ass with one hand, grasping his cock with the other. Mulder loved every second of it.

With a shout of triumph, Alex erupted in Mulder's sweet ass. He kept on shooting till his insides felt as though the life had been drained out of them. Never before had he blown such a load. At the same moment, Fox cried out with a guttural roar, exploding for a second time, wetting Alex's chest. Mulder collapsed on him and kept Alex's cock trapped inside.

They lay like that -Mulder on top of Alex- for sometime glowing after their intense lovemaking. Eventually Mulder rolled aside and lay next to Alex, not wanting to ever let him go.

*****

Dana Scully stifled yet another yawn as she finished her rather overabundant breakfast. She'd slept like the dead after such a long drive. But there was just something about the nearby sea air that made you drowsy.

She's tried again, numerous times, to reach Mulder's cell phone. Unfortunately the damn thing kept repeating the same irritating message over and over: 'out of the calling area.'

"He is too in the calling area," she mumbled before slipping the phone into her blazer pocket.

Wiping her mouth and draining her coffee, she headed downstairs. Worry had begun to set in and she was determined find this supposedly haunted mansion that fascinated her partner.

The bar was deserted this time of the morning, all except for the hearty bartender, Bob. He looked up from reading The Collinsport Star.

"How'd 'ya sleep, miss?" he asked, as Scully approached.

She smiled. "Best night sleep I've had in a long time."

"You here visiting relatives, miss?"

Dana reminded herself this was a small town and gossip traveled fast, best to let him think so.

"Yes," she replied, sitting at the bar. "I'm just stopping through." She fixed him with a curious look, trying not to be obvious. "Actually, I'm wondering if you've seen a friend of mine."

Bob paused in his reading.

"He may have been going to a place called Collinwood."

The man's friendly demeanour changed in an instant. "Not too many folks go up there."

She fixed him with a pleading gaze. "Please, it's very important that I find him."

Taking pity on her, Bob heaved a sigh and leaned across the counter. "There was a young gentlemen here not too long ago. He was looking for a place to stay, and I told him about the caretaker opening. He didn't seem bothered by the legends at all."

Sounds like Mulder, Scully thought. Move into what he thinks is a haunted mansion and doesn't bother to tell anyone.

"How do I find this Collinwood?" she asked, already fishing for her rental car keys.

Bob seemed lost in thought. "It was like he was on the run. Not the type of guy to settle in with the ghosts, if 'ya know what I mean."

Scully arched an eyebrow. "No, I don't. Perhaps you'd better describe him."

"Dark hair, green eyes, wore a lot of black."

For a moment, Dana forgot to breathe. Alex Krycek! Dammit, Mulder! Why didn't you tell me you were tracking him down?

The Blue Whale proprietor studied her concerned face. "Something the matter, miss? Wasn't that your friend?"

"What? Oh, yes. Yes, it is. Can you give me directions to Collinwood?"

"If you're sure you wanna go traipsing up there-"

"I'm sure."

"Just a moment."

Bob discarded the newspaper and searched for a pad and pencil. Meanwhile, Dana fumed. Searching for ghosts had just been an excuse. Mulder was so obsessed with finding Krycek... She dreaded to think what might have happened. She hoped he was all right.

Inhaling deeply to calm her mind, she let her eyes drift over the paper. The headline immediately grabbed her attention:

LOCAL GIRL FOUND ON THE SHORE

Snatching it up, Dana quickly scanned the article. Cause of death unknown, body completely drained of blood. She bit her lip. Seemed there was more going on here than Krycek.

Bob returned with the scribbled directions. "You wanna be careful on the cruves beside Widows' Hill," he advised. He paused, seeing what the young woman was reading. "Yeah, poor Rose. We're all going to miss her. She should've never been out alone that night."

Dana flashed her eyes at him. "That's what I was told last night. Exactly what's going on here?"

"If you're going to Collinwood, you'll find out," he replied, cryptically.

Thanking him for the directions and advice, Scully hurried out of the bar and toward the parking lot. She had the nagging feeling she'd better find Mulder ASAP!

*****

Alex Krycek was worn out.

The marathon sex session -not that he was complaining-had been magnificent, but he was concerned over what brought it on. Fox just couldn't get enough. As much he he'd like to keep him company, Alex was also worried about what could be stalking the estate -what attacked his lover last night.

It had taken some coaxing to make Fox remain in bed and rest. Thankfully he'd finally drifted off back to sleep. If he was still in the mood after his trek across the grounds, then he'd be happy to oblige.

Strangley as he made his way downstairs, Alex had not come across either Ginny or Cassandra. He wondered if the strange visitor had managed to get her car running again and just left?

From an alcove, Virgina watched him as he left the house from a back way. "He's gone," she said.

"Keep an eye on him," Angélique ordered, revealing herself from the shadows. Soon afterward, she opened a door and descended into the basement.

Her journey took her to a sealed off door. With a dusty clatter, the long disused entrance swung open. Angélique grinned and, brushing a carpet of cobwebs aside, took another staircase down into a warren of secret passages.

Cristoff had chosen a excellent hiding place.

However, she was much smarter. She would force Cristoff to take Fox Mulder. He'd tasted his blood, therefore he could not resist biting him a second time.

Her journey ended before another locked door. Angélique's eyes shone with power, and like the door before, it opened. Before her lay the vampire's coffin. Now all she had to do was lure Fox Mulder.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the sleeping figure upstairs. "Come to me," she called hypnotically. But it was not her voice, but Alex Krycek's that summoned him. "I am waiting for you. You cannot resist. Come. Come."

(Mulder's eyes opened with a start. Alex was calling and the yearning inside of him screamed. He wanted, no, he needed to be with his lover. Standing, his half-naked form left the bedroom.)

Angélique smiled, sensing his presence approaching. "Yes, that's right. I'm waiting for you," she continued to call.

"No. You must stop, Angélique. You must stop." A ghostly voice echoed around the brick walls.

Momentarily stopping her spell, Angélique looked around the passage. "Who is it? Who's there? Answer me!"

In the shadowy gloom, the ghost of Danielle Collins appeared. "You must not hurt him," she warned.

Angélique's eyes grew wide. "You will not interfere, Danielle Collins!"

Ignoring her, the spirit stepped forward.

Angélique held a hand up. "Return to your grave! I command you, return to your grave!"

Slowly, Danielle faded away.

Angélique breathed deeply. In life or death, she would not allow Danielle to prevent her from being with Spencer. She quickly returned her attention to the task in hand.

"Come to me, Fox. I'm here, alone, waiting for you."

Hearing his bare footsteps, Angélique ducked out of sight behind the door.

Mulder could not control his actions. Alex was inside the room and he had to be with him.

As soon as he entered, Angélique slammed the door closed.

Shaken from the trance, Mulder whirled round in the darkened room. "Hey!" he shouted. He ran to the heavy door and began to pound. "Let me out of here!"

Angélique leaned against it with a wicked smile. Tonight Cristoff would rise thirsting for blood. And his hunger would be sated with Fox Mulder.

*****

Fox pounded the heel of his fist against the sturdy wooden door twice more before finally giving up. He was in a hidden room, deep with-in the recesses of the mansion, who would hear his pleas for rescue? Alex, hopefully, thought Mulder sourly. He turned his back on the only visible exit and stood still; eyes wide open, waiting for his vision to adjust to the dark gloom. Despite being underground, Fox was not standing in total darkness. His pupils finally focused. Across the small room, Fox spied a table with a three pronged candelabra on it.

Or judging from the darkened shadows, it was a table and a candelabra.

He skirted around the large ominous objected that lay directly to his left and slowly went to the table. Relieved when his assumption was right, Fox felt around the table for a lighter. Instead, his fingers skimmed across a box of wooden matches. He opened the box, drew one out and struck it. The match flare and the scent of burnt sulphur drifted in the air. Once the candles were lit, Fox took a good look around.

The large object, which Fox had thought to be some sort of a workbench turned out to be a large, rosewood coffin, and as he stood studying the gleaming box of wood, he wondered who, or what, was in it. ~oOo~

"Gee-up" Alex murmured softly to his horse. For the last hour and a half, he and his horse Quentin had been riding the fence, examining it for damage. Every time he came across a spot that needed repair, Alex carefully noted it in a journal; he would return tomorrow with the tools and materials to begin patching. The sun was high in the sky, but the day was not warm enough to merit him removing his shirt. Instead, he wore a thick flannel Mac jacket.

As he was writing down yet another damaged spot, out of the corner of his eye, Alex spotted movement. He turned his head just in time to see a young blond woman running down a path. Her gauzy dress fluttered behind her like ribbons on a kite. Alex quickly slid off of Quentin and ran down the path after the girl.

"Hey, hold on." He called, but the slight figure showed no sign of slowing down. The girl turned a tight corner on the path and Alex could no longer see her. He ran faster, and rounded the corner, skidding to a sudden halt when the blond suddenly stopped fleeing.

She was twenty feet away, floating a few inches off the ground. Alex blinked his eyes, thinking that it was only an illusion, that she really wasn't suspended in the air. He was surprised to see, that in fact, his 20/20 vision was working fine.

"Do not be afraid Alex. Time is of the essence and you must let me speak; without interruptions."

"Okaaay." Alex replied to the apparition. Unsure if he'd even find anything to say to the lovely ethereal woman.

"My name is Danielle, and I am the younger sister of Spencer Collins. I was murdered by the woman whom you know as Cassandra. Her real name is Angelique`, and she is wicked. 200 years ago, she tried to steal the soul of a man she loved, that man was you Alex. Only back then, your name Spencer."

"What???" Alex started to say, but he was interrupted.

"Please, I must speak, I am growing weaker with each minute that passes."

"Back then, Angelique` used black magic to try and win your love, and when that failed to work, she resorted to murder. Me. She poisoned me and then blackmailed Spencer into marrying her and only when he did, did she give me the antidote. But by then, it was too late, she had doomed me, and my dear brother Spencer."

Danielle's hair was lifted by the wind and blown back from her face, and Alex was reminded of Scully. Though the hair was a different colour, the bone structure of the apparitions face, was the same as Mulder's partner.

"There is only one way to break the curse that has tortured you and Jamison over the centuries. You must take a leap of faith together. Plunge into the darkness hand in hand, confident in your love for each other, that will be your salvation... only then, will you and Fox be able to live in peace."

Danielle's image started to fade,

"Wait, I don't understand what you mean and leap of faith...."

She was growing weak, Angelique's magic was too strong, her final resting place was calling her back.

"Fox needs you right now..." Danielle planted the image of Fox in the locked room with the coffin, and gave Alex a mental map of where to go to get him. After that, all she had time to say was, "Cristoff will wake soon, and he will be hungry. I'm afraid that this time he won't be able to restrain himself."

Then she was gone.

Alex watched as the young woman's form ebbed then disappeared all together. He stood still for a few seconds, trying to digest her words. He and Fox, lovers from 200 years ago? Doomed to never be together because of a psychotic woman's obsession with him? Alex stared at the spot where Danielle had hovered for a few moments more, then he spun around and ran back toward the mansion.

The sense of needing to 'rescue' Fox overtaking him. ~oOo~

Fox picked up the heavy steel candle holder and slowly paced around the coffin. He looked down at his watch, it was only two in the afternoon, whoever or whatever was in the casket would not be waking up any time soon.

Suddenly, the puzzle of where Cristoff disappeared to every day fit together.

'He's a Vampire' Fox thought to himself.

Then with a curiosity of a child who discovered his Christmas presents early, the agent searched the room for a tool in order to pry open the coffin lid with. There was no visible handle in which to open the top, in fact, Fox noticed that there were no hinges either. The agent wondered how Cristoff - if that's who it even was inside - came and went from the casket. As he pondered how to prize the lid off, Fox heard a thumping noise from somewhere out side of the room. He cocked his head toward the door and listened.

The 'thumping' grew louder and in between the noise, Mulder heard a faint,

"Fox...are you down here?"

Mulder smiled, it was Alex, come to rescue him from the locked, dark room. At the thought of his lover, Fox's cock swelled slightly. He grinned again and ran to the door and pounded on it loudly with the side of his fist. "I'm in here Alex."

All of a sudden, it was urgent that he get out of the room and it was not because of the casket and dark, dankness of the room were frightening him. No far from it. He was in fact, more curious than ever to see the inside of the polished wood sarcophagus.

No, it was his need to see Alex that was stronger than his inquisitiveness.

It seemed to Fox that ever since he had been left on the cliff top, wet, cold and half out of his head with bizarre visions, that his libido had grown twice fold. He just couldn't get enough of Alex, though he quickly understood that for some odd reason, getting fucked by Alex didn't hold as much appeal for him as fucking the handsome Russian did.

His cock jumped again at such thoughts, and he shouted out in a rather calm voice, "Hurry up, would ya." ~oOo~

"Oh Fox..." Alex shouldered in the heavy door and immediately drew his lover into his strong arms. "Are you alright. I was afraid that something had happened to you. Something terrible."

Mulder hugged Alex back. "I'm fine. Other than not being quite sure how I got down here. I remember hearing your voice beckoning to me...but after that..." Mulder shook his head, "...it doesn't matter anyway." He kissed Alex deeply, then pulled back and said, "All that matters is that I get you in to bed. Now!"

At that, Fox grabbed Alex's right hand and dragged him out of the room and down the hall.

The whole way to the bedroom Alex tried to tell Fox about what the girl named Danielle had told him out on the meadow.

But the agent was having none of it and finally, Alex gave up trying to talk and concentrated on following his intent lover. ~oOo~

Fox slammed their bedroom door shut and locked it. He grabbed Alex again and kissed him fiercely. His hands pulled Alex's shirt out from his jeans and quickly invaded the warm, slightly sweaty flesh that was hidden beneath the heavy cotton. Mulder's urgent fingers started to undo the buttons of Alex's shirt, but then he grew impatient and simply ripped the garment wide open. Sending a cascade of white plastic discs all about the room.

Alex pulled out of their kiss. "Why so aggressive?" he asked playfully. Liking his lover's ardent ways.

"You're just so gorgeous that I can't keep my hands off of you." Mulder pulled the Russian back into an embrace, but instead of kissing Alex's plump lips he ran his tongue over his lean neck instead and nuzzled it. "We haven't made love in so long, I'm horny for you."

Alex leaned his head sideways, giving his lover more skin to kiss and nip at. "We made love four hours ago." He said matter of fact.

"Well it feels like days." Quipped Fox as his deft fingers undid Alex's button and zipper on his jeans.

Once Alex was naked Mulder quickly followed suit.

The agent tossed his clothes hastily aside then sauntered over to an overstuffed chaise lounge. He sat down and patted his lap, indicating that his lover should sit right there.

Alex went toward Mulder, stopping by a small table to retrieve a bottle of clear lubricant. He gave the bottle to Mulder, who took it wordlessly, and then straddled his lover's long, lean thighs.

Mulder stared into Alex's eyes, positive that if he stared long enough all of the Russians secrets would be revealed to him. As he studied the depths of green and dark brown, he poured a large dollop of lubricant into his palm then dropped the bottle to the hardwood floor.

"Kiss me." Fox husked and Alex immediately obeyed.

As they necked, Mulder rubbed the slick between his palms to warm the fluid up. Once it was warmed he quickly but gently prepared Alex's ass; made tender by the mornings vigorous fucking. Fox pulled back and said dirtily, "Now fuck me."

And Alex, with a gleam in his dilated eyes, started to lower himself onto Mulder's erect cock.

Mulder with his dick in one hand, guided his lover down with the other. He'd have liked to have push Alex down roughly, to assert his dominance over his lover, but he knew that Alex was still sore from earlier. So he bit the inside of his cheek, and let him pick his own pace.

Once Alex was completely impaled, he stopped moving altogether and caught his breath. This time around is insides hurt a bit more than usual, but not so much that he would stop. Though Alex briefly thought that Mulder probably couldn't stop at that point even if he'd asked him too.

Mulder put a hand on either one of Alex's butt cheeks and asked softly, "Ready?"

Alex nodded, and then let Mulder take over.

Fox pushed up into Alex, fighting his own urgency in order to make sure that Alex would be okay. Once he saw that Alex had closed his eyes, and was more relaxed, Mulder really let loose. He set a fast paced rhythm that Alex had no trouble keeping up too, even after Fox had asked him to 'masturbate yourself for me.'

Yet another command that Alex obeyed.

Finally, after watching Alex orgasm - the Russians back arched in sweet ecstasy - Mulder planted his lover down firmly and completely let go. Pulsing jets of hot semen squirted deep inside of Alex, and once he was done, Fox lay back; spent.

"MMMM....." Fox murmured, pulling Alex down to cuddle him, "That was soooo, good."

"Yeah..."purred Alex, kissing Fox's left nipple lightly, "It was." He blindly reached to the floor and felt around. His fingers skated across the blanket that normally sat on the back of the chaise lounge. Alex grabbed it and pulled it up over the two of them. "Are you ready to hear what happened to me today?" He asked, completely satiated.

~oOo~

With a flickering candleabra in one slim hand, Angélique descended the ancient steps toward the Collinwood basement. Still in her Cassandra Blair disguise, she wore a smug smile; certain that Cristoff had taken care of her enemy Fox Mulder forever. With any luck Cristoff would have changed him into one of the living dead.

Walking through the cobwebbed tunnels deep beneath the mansion, Angélique felt sure that victory was in hand. She just had to be sure that the reincarnation of Jamison duPrés was out of her way. Oh how she would comfort poor Alex and when the time was right, bring him under her spell once more. Angélique relished the thought.

She had defeated two birds with one stone. Fox Mulder would be dead, and Cristoff will have lost his bet. Angélique tried to supress a laugh but could not. With her free hand, she held it against her mouth. Her triumphant laughter echoed off the walls.

Finally she paused outside of the locked room. Cristoff had been very foolish to hide his coffin here. Did he really think she would not find it? Angélique reached to release the locking bar ... She gasped. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong.

Throwing the door open, Angélique hurried inside. "Cristoff? Cristoff?" she called as she sat the candleabra down on an old table.

She checked the modern wristwatch adorning her arm. It was just after sun down. Someone had set Fox Mulder free! But who...

"Of course, Alex," she whispered to herself. As it had happened centuries before, Spencer Collins had rescued the man he loved. "Oh, Spencer, you will regret your interference!"

Angélique, incensed, stalked toward the table. She picked up a rickety chair and slammed it to the floor. Already rotted, the wood snapped instantly to fragments. Selecting the sharpest piece, the witch moved toward Cristoff's coffin.

She could not bear the smugness and condescending glare from the vampire. She would be rid of him, then deal with her enemy.

Lifting the heavy lid, Angélique's piercing blue eyes looked upn the sleeping form of Cristoff. She remembered the boy with the sad eyes; the boy who had been her servant and begged for immorality.

"Long ago Cristoff could you have imagined this moment when you would be destroyed forever?"

She raised the stake directly above his heart. In that moment, Cristoff's dark eyes shot open and his face filled with fear.

"No, Angélique! No!!" he screamed, but it was far too late.

Angélique plunged the stake down with all of her strength. With a blood-curdling roar, Cristoff slumped back into the casket. Soon the vampire's body started to dissolve into ashes.

"I don't care who I have to destroy," Angélique vowed, "but Spencer Collins, you will be mine!"

*****

Upstairs in their bedroom, Mulder slipped out of the deeply sated arms of his lover. Beneath his closed lids his eyes danced feverishly. In the darkness he could hear the dying screams of a man. Mulder tried desperately to wake himself up, to wake from the beginnings of a nightmare, but he couldn't.

In the darkness of the room, an unearthly almost foggy yellow light appeared and Angélique stepped toward the bed. She was no longer dressed as Cassandra. In place of short black hair was long golden rivulets, and she now wore a flowing eighteenth-century gown of burnt orange.

"Fox Mulder, you will hear my voice," she began, "and you will know that the power to command you is mine." Angélique paused before him, where Mulder writhed beside the sleeping Alex. Only he could hear the witch's voice, which was low and hypnotic in his mind. "I have invoked all the powers of darkness," Angélique continued, "and you can not resist me. Hear me Fox Mulder, hear me now! It is time for my curse to be fulfilled!"

A silent whimper escaped Mulder's lips. He tried and tried to force the commanding voice from his mind. Every time he attempted to concentrate on something else, something solid, he felt himself drowning in a dark void.

Suddenly an image appeared in the center of the darkness. A beautiful young woman with blond hair and blazing ice blue eyes. She held her arms out for someone as she beckoned to them. A sheer, white gown billowed around her in a cold breeze.

From out of nowehere another figure appeared in the darkness. It was Alex!

Mulder wanted to cry out, warn him, anything to keep him away from the woman. He could only watch helplessly as Alex fell into her arms in a passionate embrace.

"He will never love you!" Angélique's voice tormented Mulder. "He is mine and he shall be mine forever!"

No! No! Mulder's mind screamed.

"You will leave this house," Angélique commanded. "You can never escape my curse! You will run and you will remember."

Mulder felt himself uncontrollably leaving the security of Alex's bed. Felt himself opening the bedroom door and racing down the shadowed hallway.

"Remember your past Jamison duPrés," Angélique's voice taunted. "You will remember your death and relive it; the most terrifying death of all."

Hot tears flowed down Mulder's cheeks. He could not fight her voice, her power over him. He stumbled down the great staircase in his flight from the house. His bare feet contacted with the cold floor of the hall. He turned and flung the huge foyer doors open.

Outside, a violent storm suddenly took shape. Huge black clouds rolled across the starry sky, obscuring a bright, full moon. A great gust of wind blasted through the mansion as Mulder ran and ran...

Standing over Alex's handsome sleeping form, Angélique threw back her head and laughed evilly. The aura surrounded her disappeared and she along with it.

*****

Alex twisted and turned beneath the sheets. Voices called and cried out in his dreaming mind. Visions of the past haunted and danced in a strange whirlwind, one that he desperately tried to make sense of.

"No, Jamison, no! Don't run away from me!"

He heard a voice very similar to his own shout in agony.

"I set a curse on you, Spencer Collins! You will never love and anyone who loves you will die!!"

A woman shrieked.

Then, a gun shot.

Alex sat bolt upright in bed, still shaking from the disturbing nocturnal images. He steadied his breathing and ran a hand through his damp hair.

"Fox," he whispered, expecting his lover to be by his side. "Fox!" he said, louder, upon finding him gone.

Alex slipped out of bed and felt for the light switch. A streak of lightning illuminated the bedroom and Alex inhaled quickly. For just a second he thought he saw the sad, worried face of Danielle Collins--the ghost who had warned him. His heart pumping furiously, Alex sensed something horrible.

Slipping on a T-shirt over his blue pyjamas bottoms, Alex hurried out into the hall. "Fox? Mulder, where are you?" he called. Where could he be? Why did he have this overwhelming sense of foreboding? Too many things had happened already for him to ignore his lover's absence.

Alex looked everywhere he could think of: the bathroom, the library, the study ... He raced down a hallway and hurried down the great staircase. He stopped halfway down at the sight of Virginia emerging from the hall leading to the kitchen.

"Ginny!" he called, moving toward her. "Ginny, have you seen Fox?"

She looked at him curiously. "No, I haven't seen him tonight," she answered.

"Wha-" Alex paused, noticing the hesitation in her eyes. "Alright, Ginny, what the hell's going on around here? Ghosts, strange dreams and all of it revolves around this Angélique!"

Alex walked into the large sitting-room and raised a hand to Angélique's portrait which seemed to blaze with life from the crackling lightning outside.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Virginia told him as she moved up behind him.

Alex whirled round and gripped the woman by her shoulders. "You know damn well what I'm talking about!" he accused. "Cassandra is Angélique. Now, I want you to tell me what you know."

Virginia stared into his feverish green eyes for several moments. She relaxed and looked directly into his face. "I lived in this house nearly two-hundred years ago," she said, speaking calmly. "Everything you're experiencing is from your previous life. I am living proof of it. You were a Collins."

Alex tuned out her raspy voice, recalling what the ghost of Danielle Collins had told him. He was the reincarnation of her brother Spencer Collins and he was in danger from the witch Angélique. He'd never gotten a chance to tell Fox...

"I was a part of everything that happened," Virginia continued, as Alex's hands slipped from her shoulders. She turned and smiled at the portrait of Angélique Collins. "Angélique loves us," she said, reverently. "She always has and she always will."

She seemed lost in time, remembering Angélique's voice coming to her one night so very long ago. "I have lost him," she'd said, "but I will have him again. You will help me Virginia."

Virginia snapped back to the present. "Everyone does not love my Angélique," she turned back to stare at Alex, "but you will learn."

Furious, Alex once again gripped the woman, almost shaking her. "Where is he, Ginny? Where is Fox?"

"There is no place for him here," Virginia replied, sternly. "You must come to accept that."

"No!" Alex shouted. "I love Fox! Now you tell me where he is!"

Virginia twisted from his grip and ran from the room.

"Ginny!" Alex made to move after her, but stopped in his tracks.

For standing in the doorway was the woman from the portrait, exactly as she appeared. The witch Angélique.

"No, Spencer," she told him, "she can not help you now."

"Angélique," he whispered, stunned.

Angélique smiled and glided into the room. "So now you know." She clasped her hands together. "Good, it makes things easier."

Blood boiling with anger, Alex clenched his fists. "What have you done with him?" he demanded.

"Simply put my curse into motion." She threw him a haughty look. "A curse you brought upon yourself, Spencer Collins, the night you betrayed me."

He wasn't sure whether it was due to Angélique's influence or his own repressed memories, but Alex Krycek was assaulted by the visions from his dreams. Visions, he finally accepted, of his previous life.

He saw himself as a young, wealthy man living in the newly built Collinwood mansion in 1797. The happiest moment of his life meeting the bewitchingly handsome Jamison duPrés from Martinique. Their love hampered and kept secret. The strange and terrifying happenings surrounding Collinwood, which unjustly sent his dear sister's governess to the gallows. Danielle, his precious baby sister, dying in his arms. And Angélique, the seemingly demure maid servant, tricking him into a loveless marriage which broke Jamison's heart.

Alex reeled as the images flooded through his mind. He gasped and cried out as visions of the saddest day in Spencer Collins' life hit him...

Jamison, tormented by Angélique's powers, ran across the storm-lashed estate toward Widows' Hill. Even now he could hear the Widows' wailing as Jamison jumped from the cliff to his death.

Alex could feel the tears stinging his eyes, but it wasn't enough to stop the memories...

Confronting Angélique of her crimes against him and the people he loved. Aiming a pistol and shooting her. The witch's last words...

The pain, the suffering he felt was overwhelming.

Alex gasped as reality reasserted itself. It was as if no time had passed at all. He brushed the tears from his cheeks and stared furiously at Angélique--a force so evil, so powerful, that her curse reached across the centuries to torment him.

So many things became clear to the former double agent in those moments. His tumultuous relationship with Mulder; how he'd been drawn to him from the start but always betrayed him even when he secretly loved him. It wasn't until they both returned to Collinwood that their love for one another was revealed.

"I-I remember," he stammered. "Why are you still doing this?"

"To show you that I still have all of my powers," Angélique replied, "but you needn't worry. I will save your precious Fox Mulder."

Alex felt as if he'd just been slapped. "What?"

"For a price," she added, silkily.

"What price?"

Angélique walked around him like a lion stalking its prey. "As I placed the curse over you, so I consigned myself to remain in Collinwood forever." She fixed him with her steely gaze. "I want you to stay here with me."

Alex eyed her carefully. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, as if talking to an uncomprehending child. "So that we can be together. I only ask that you stay here with me. Are you willing to sacrifice yourself to save Fox Mulder?"

He could hear his own heart beat pounding in his ears. He would not let Angélique win this time, and he would not lose Fox.

"Yes, I am," he said.

Angélique smiled triumphantly. She had no intention of saving Fox Mulder. "You made a wise decision. One you should have made long ago."

Alex started to walk around the room, past a chaise lounge, a Louis IX chair, the fireplace. "It's a risk I have to take!" he exclaimed and with that, he bolted from the room, into the hall and out into the raging storm.

"Stop!" Angélique screamed. "Do you hear me?! Come back!" Enraged, she turned to peer icily out of the windows. "Spencer Collins, you WILL lose him forever!"

*****

Wind and rain whipping into his body, Mulder ran across the open ground of the estate. Rocks cut at his feet; his skin and clothing were already torn from tree limbs and brambles. Still, he ran on, unable to fight the powerful voice urging him on.

"Alex," he cried as the roaring of the sea reached his ears.

*****

"Fox?!" Alex called. "Fox, where are you?!"

The storm tore his voice away in the wind. His soul filled with dread, Alex ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the stable. If what he saw in his vision were true, Fox would be heading for Widows' Hill.

"No, no, I won't let you die!" he cried.

Throwing open the stable door, Alex found the black shape of Quentin stirring restlessly in his pen. Climbing onto the steed's back, the Russian dug in his heels and drove the horse out into the rain.

*****

Angélique stared into the night. It was only a matter of time now. Soon Fox Mulder would jump to his death just as his previous life had done centuries ago. She could already see his crumpled body lying at the bottom of the cliff. What death could be more fitting for the man Spencer loves?

This time things would be different. She would see to that. Spencer would come to her willingly.

"Yes, run! Run!" Angélique called to Mulder. "Death is the only way for you!"

*****

Quentin's hooves pounded in the mud. Alex leaned forward, searching the stormy night for his lover. He had to be close, he had to be!

The horse galloped over a hill. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and Alex caught Mulder's frame disappearing through the trees.

Again, his mind was assailed with the vision of Jamison duPrés running madly away from him, screaming, "No, Spencer!"

"Stop it! Stop it!" Alex screamed into the wind. He leaped down from Quentin's back and took off into the trees after his lover. Alex let the trees tear at his face as he raced to catch up with Mulder's fleeing form.

"No, Fox!" he begged. "Don't run away from me!"

The tragic events of 1797 were happening all over again. He had to stop this!

Mulder burst from the trees. Bufetted by the wind, he could see the edge of Widows' Hill ahead. The storm seemed to take on a life of its own as a ghostly wailing resounded all around him. In the back of his mind he recalled the legend of the Widows and how they called people to their deaths.

He was going to die! He couldn't stop his legs from moving, nor the insistent voice ordering him to run toward the edge.

"NO!" Alex screamed as he emerged from the trees. "Don't go there!" He ran on... He could hear Mulder crying, pleading with the powerful force to stop.

"Fox, listen to me!" shouted Alex, desperately. "Focus on my voice. Don't be afraid of me. I love you, Fox!"

As he reached the edge of the cliff, Mulder paused and looked down at the water angrily crashing against the jagged rocks below. 'Jump!' the voice told him. 'Jump! You must obey me! Jump!'

His foot dangled over the edge...

"Fox, stop! You are not Jamison duPrés, you're Fox Mulder!" Alex told him, carefully moving closer. "Remember, Fox, remember! You don't have to do this. Listen to me, and only me. Alex Krycek, the rat bastard, the rat bastard who loves you!"

Mulder gasped, feeling his heart thump painfully in his chest. With all the strength he could gather, he turned his head to look at Alex.

"Alex, what's happening?" Mulder felt his body go limp, like a marionette who's strings had been cut. He could feel himself falling, falling over the edge into the sea... High above, thunder rolled deeply.

"NO!!" Alex dashed forward and grabbed hold of Mulder's arm, pulling him back and into his arms. "Fox, oh Fox." He held his trembling lover, tenderly kissing his forehead, his eyes, and finally his lips.

"Alex," Mulder gasped, "I can't ... have to ... jump..." He looked up with tear-filled eyes. "What's wrong? What's happening?"

Alex looked back to the dark mansion sitting ominously atop the hill. He knew that Angélique would drive Mulder to his death. How could he stop her? How could he end this curse and save his lover? How?

A warm feeling suddenly burst through his body in the middle of the freezing rain. The wailing subsided to a low ebb and he could hear a sweet, faint voice on the wind.

The voice of Danielle Collins.

"There is only one way to break the curse that has tortured you and Jamison over the centuries. You must take a leap of faith together. Plunge into the darkness hand in hand, confident in your love for each other, that will be your salvation... only then, will you and Fox be able to live in peace."

Alex turned back and, with Fox still in his arms, looked at the raging sea. He now knew what they had to do. Taking a deep breath, he stared into Mulder's eyes.

"Fox, do you trust me?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Yes," Mulder replied, fighting the enormous urge to break from his grip and jump.

"Then take my hand," Alex gently told him.

Confused for a moment, Mulder nodded and slipped his trembling hand into Alex's strong grip.

"We have to do this together," Alex continued with determination. "Fox, I love you."

He took a step back and, holding tight to Mulder's hand, started to run...

*****

Within the walls of Collinwood, Angélique sensed what was happening and screamed, "NO!!"

*****

Hand-in-hand Alex Krycek and Fox Mulder...

lovers from the past, lovers of the present...

jumped from the edge of Widows' Hill.

*****

Angélique screamed and screamed in tormented agony. Flames burst all around her as if she were burning up from the inside. She reached out to hold the fire back, but it was unstoppable. With a blinding flare of light, she and the fire vanished from Collinwood.

*****

The first morning rays of sun chased away the shadows enveloping the great house. Just as suddenly as it had came, the storm was gone.

Far below the cliff of Widows' Hill, the waves lapped up on the warm, sandy shore. Two figures lay washed up on the beach, both wearing peaceful sleeping faces.

Mulder awoke to find himself pressed down into the sand, and with Alex's arm thrown protectively over him. With bleary eyes, he sat up and turned his lover over.

He was scared, really scared, having no memory of what occured last night. The only thing he remembered was he and Alex making love ... then everything was a blank. How the hell they'd ended up on the beach was a complete mystery.

"Alex, hey Alex," he said, shaking him gently.

"Fox," the other man whispered, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun high overhead. He sat up quickly and engulfed his lover in his arms. "Fox, we're okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

And Alex knew in his heart this was true. Angélique's curse was broken.

He kissed Mulder passionately, gently embracing his lover.

*****

I'll never forget my experiences in the great house of Collinwood, Mulder would later write. All the legends which had captured my imagination were true, and the most amazing part of it all was learning that both Alex and I were wrapped in the tapestry of the Collins family.

As Alex explained everything to me that morning, we were both surprised to find Scully waiting for us at the house. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her--I still call it worry--and she'd come all the way to Maine to find me. I still wish I had a picture of the expression on her face when she found Alex and I together. I think she's still getting used to the concept.

I love Alex with all my heart. He saved my life and broke a two-hundred-year old curse to prove it.

Packing our things, we never knew what happened to Virginia as both she and the portrait of Angélique Collins had seemingly disappeared. We left the house and all of its ghosts behind us, putting the dark shadows of Collinwood firmly in the distant past.

*****

The ancient house still sits above the sea on Widows' Hill. The grounds are now deserted, and the people of Collinsport keep well clear of the mansion. For they speak of a ghostly figure of a young woman floating through the deserted hallways...

The End.