Vampire Series Part VIII by DiAnn Rating: NC17 - language, adult themes Category: MSSR/ Pure Trash / Discipline Warning: Mulder/Skinner/Scully Romance If you don't like this kind of thing, or you are underage, go somewhere else . . . NOW! I don't want to hear from you and I don't want to hear from your Mama. Spoiler: Some small mention. Nothing too specific. Summary: Mulder gets on the wrong side of a very powerful lady. Vince the Vampire did not get to be in this one . . . and is he ticked! Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will, own Mulder, Scully, Skinner, Krycek or anyone else from the X-Files. I am borrowing them without permission and am obviously not receiving money for this stuff. We all know who they really belong to, CC, Fox and lots of other people but again, not me. Vampire Series Part VIII Son of a Witch by DiAnn Home of Claudia Fuller Greenwich, CT Mulder felt the cold damp stones of the garden wall meet his back. He had retreated as far as he could go and the old woman was still advancing on him. "You've been a very naughty boy, Fox, breaking into an old lady's home like this. I'm sure your mother will be quite upset when you are arrested. After all, what will people say? That's always been very important to your mother, hasn't it Fox? It was always about what the neighbors would think, that was more important than even the safety of her children." "Stop it! Don't you talk about my mother that way. People deserve to know the truth. And the truth is that you are not the nice little old lady that you pretend to be but are in reality, an evil witch. And, I . . . I want you to stay away from my mother." The crone reached out and ran a bony finger down his cheek. Her hand felt as dry as parchment and he couldn't stop the shudder of revulsion that ran through his body. "I think what you need is a good old fashioned spanking, Little Fox. You are far too nosy for your own good. Teena seems to have been very remiss in your discipline. But you'll find that unlike your mother, I'm not swayed by big eyes and pouty lips. Or maybe . . . she just didn't care enough about you to bother." The woman moved her sandpaper finger once more and placed it in the middle of his forehead. He was pinned to the wall, eyes wide, unable to move. "Say the words they've come to fear, And one and all who may be near, Will feel an urge they can't deny, To cause the pretty fox to cry . . . " Mulder's world began to spin - faster and faster, the red and orange of the autumn leaves blending and swirling with the deep blue of the outdoor pool, flashing by his eyes with impossible speed. His last thought, before he fell unconscious, was that she really should have already drained that pool. Winter could come early on the East Coast. Walter Skinner's Apartment Late Evening - Same Day "Skinner." "Mr. Skinner, this is Officer Roy Addison of the Greenwich, Connecticut Police Department." "Yes, how may I help you?" "I have your son here. He said I should call you to come bail him out." "My son? I don't . . . " Skinner rubbed a hand over his face. He suddenly felt that old familiar pain shoot through his stomach. Mulder! It had to be Mulder. The AD took a deep breath, "Mar . . . Marty?" "Yeah, that's the one." *Shit!* Greenwich Police Department Parking Lot "Thanks, Walter." "For what?" "For not making a big scene in there. I don't think I could have handled that tonight. I know you have to be furious with me. And I . . . I just wanted to thank you." Skinner gritted his teeth as he started the car and headed out to the highway. "Don't thank me yet." "That police chief didn't like me. He really wanted to see you yell at me." "He wanted to see me tan your hide." "He did not! I doubt he would even think of such a thing." "How long were you there?" "Since late afternoon." "Yeah, he wanted to see you thrashed all right. It usually only takes about an hour for people to start thinking that what you really need is a strap laid across your backside." Mulder stuck his lip out, "That's not true but if you think so, then thanks for not giving him what you thought he wanted." "I didn't want to make any memorable impressions. They might figure out who you really are. You're just lucky that woman didn't press charges. Your Mother lives in this town, Mulder. That's playing a little close of home, if you ask me." The AD knew he needed to cool his temper and he needed to find out what Mulder was up to . . . before he decided exactly how he was going to kill him. "Is there somewhere around here, Mulder, like a park of something? A private place where we can talk?" "We could go find a motel room." "No. I need some fresh air. Some place outside." "Oka-a-a-y, there's a lookout point about eight or ten miles from here. Probably won't be any kids making out tonight. It's a school night and cold as hell to boot." Fifteen minutes later they pulled into an empty parking lot. Skinner sat for several minutes just staring out of the car window at the dark night sky. Since he had become involved with Mulder and Scully he often found himself in some very strange situations. But at least he wasn't lonely and miserable now. And he certainly wasn't bored. If he could just convince Mulder to curb these reckless little side trips of his, the Assistant Director thought his life might be close to perfect. "Sir?" Mulder had started fidgeting five minutes ago. "What's up there?" Skinner pointed to the top of a rather steep rise. "Picnic table. Great view . . . at least in the summer." "Let's go," As Walter reached for the door handle, he felt Mulder's hand on his arm. "It's kind of cold tonight, Walter. I left my coat in my car back in town." He indicated the light weight black turtleneck and jeans that he was wearing. "Why don't we talk in here?" "You should have considered the consequences before you went running around improperly dressed for the season." "It wasn't cold when I left it there," Mulder pouted. "And coats can be so cumbersome when you are breaking and entering, huh Mulder?" Walter climbed out of the car and reached into the back for his own heavy wool overcoat. He then walked purposefully around the car and opened Mulder's door. "Come on." The hill turned out to be the backside of a sheer drop off. There was indeed a picnic table there and a magnificent view of a small inlet of water surrounded by trees, their autumn colors drained of vibrance in the cold moonlight. A few lights could be seen scattered around the area. The Assistant Director sat down on the picnic table with his feet on the seat. He watched Mulder shivering in the night air. "Take your clothes off." "Wh . . . what? You have got to be kidding." Mulder was already so cold his teeth had begun to chatter, "It's co . . . colder than shit out here." Walter Skinner reached out and dragged his irritating young agent toward him. "I said strip. Either you do it now or I do it for you. But I would think that you might want to have something to wear on the way back home." "Shit! Shit! Shit!" Mulder jerked away and stomped his foot at his boss. "I can't believe this. I thought you cared about me. Scully would never let you do this, Walter." "You're right, she probably wouldn't like it one bit but . . . she isn't here and I am." He reached for Mulder's shirt. The agent did a quick step backwards and started undressing himself. Skinner could certainly use some brushing up on his negotiation skills. The man never gave an inch. "Do I need to remind you that this is a public place, Sir?" Mulder asked as he looked around. "Someone could show up here at any minute. Hell, there could be someone here already watching this disgusting little show." "That would be unfortunate for you, Agent Mulder. Very embarrassing, I would think." Mulder's teeth were chattering even harder now. Skinner scooted back on the table. He pulled Mulder between his legs and turned him around, plastering the agent's goose bumped back against his own broad warm chest and pulled his coat snugly around both of them. Mulder was practically sitting on his lap. Skinner found this little arrangement to be quite pleasant. "Better?" "Wh . . . what are yo . . . you doing, Walter." Mulder tried desperately to control his chattering teeth and the shivers that racked his body. "Breathing. Calming down. Holding someone who is special to me. Someone who continues to get himself into illegal and/or dangerous situations. Tell me why you were harassing an old woman, Mulder." "I was not harassing. I was doing surveillance. And she is not an old woman. She is a witch." Skinner laid his forehead against the back of Mulder's dark hair. It was one o'clock in the morning, the AD was miles from a warm bed, he had a seven-thirty meeting at the office and he was just not as young as he used to be. In fact, since taking on the X-Files, he felt he had aged at an alarming rate. Skinner sighed, "Please, Agent Mulder, start at the beginning." "But . . . but it's cold. And . . . and I'm naked." "Very astute, Spooky. Now tell me why you were caught in that elderly woman's house." "She . . . she is part of my Mother's Thursday Canasta Group. My mother kept telling me how exciting her life had become since this Claudia person had joined their circle. It seems this . . . this witch has started my mother and her friends doing spells . . . black magic." "Your mother has set aside every Thursday afternoon to practice witchcraft, Mulder? That seems a little . . . " Skinner reconsidered, they were talking about Fox' Mother after all, so he supposed this was possible. "What kind of spells?" "You know, just simple stuff at first but now . . . " Mulder shivered again, this time from something other than the cold. "They turned old Mrs. Morgan into a cat and my Mom is keeping her in the den." "What! Are you expecting me to believe . . . what kind of cat?" Mulder looked over his shoulder with an expression that clearly indicated that he had expected Walter to be just a little sharper here, "A black cat, of course." "You've seen this cat?" Walter closed his eyes and pulled a nodding Mulder protectively against his body. He said a silent little prayer and reluctantly asked his next question, "Have you . . . please tell me you have not spoken with this cat, Mulder." "Walter, please don't be ridiculous. Cats can't talk." Skinner sighed with relief. Thank God, maybe he would not have to have Mulder committed tonight. He could wait until morning. "She wrote me a note." Now it was Walter's turn to shiver. "This cat can write?" "She was a school teacher for more than forty years, Walter, of course she can write." Mulder was using that tone of voice that he usually reserved for dullards in the VCS who could not grasp the most basic concepts of demonic possession or global plague delivery systems. Skinner scooted back once more and pulled Mulder up further so the agent's feet were now on the seat instead of the frosty ground. It was obvious that this little discussion was going to take some time. "Okay, Mulder. Go on. What did the uh, . . . victim tell you?" "Nothing that I didn't already suspect. This Claudia woman was slowly leading the other woman into witchcraft instead of cards. She helped them make a killing on the stock market, made a love potion for them, taught them how to . . . " "Love potion?" "Yeah, for Seniors Night at the Country Club. Worked like a charm, except for the medical emergencies. Two heart attacks, a stroke and a broken jaw. Those old guys were really . . . uh-h-h . . . sensitive to that potion." "Broken jaw? Mulder you didn't . . . " "Of course not. It's just that the potion worked on the married men as well as the single. There were two black eyes, too, but they didn't require treatment from the paramedics. Those old ladies can really punch when they get angry. I bet those poor husbands are still hearing about that night. I was there but I stayed out of it. Well, except for Mrs. Roberts, she was going after Mom so I had to pop her." Mulder tried to look over his shoulder to see if his boss was still with him on this but the man had his face buried against Mulder's hair again. The agent decided to just go on with the story, hoping that Skinner had not fallen asleep back there. "Mrs. Morgan got suspicious and wham! . . . she was a cat. So I put Claudia Fuller under surveillance. I took her broom and had Danny analyze it but it came up clean. Then I waited for the regular Thursday coven so I could investigate her house." "So you stole this woman's cleaning supplies and then broke into her home?" "Well, 'break in' is a harsh term, Walter, I didn't actually break anything." "How did you get in?" "Lock pick." "Oh, well that's better." Skinner rolled his eyes as Mulder nodded. "Go on, Mulder." "Well she came home early. I tried to get out the back door but she cornered me by the pool. I was able to push her in the water," Mulder looked over his shoulder, "You know it's true that witches do not float. She burst out of that water about ten feet in the air. Hell of a splash. Damnest thing I ever saw. That's when she put the curse on me." Skinner groaned. He wasn't sure he really wanted to hear this. A cursed Mulder, that was too frightening to even consider. "What kind of 'curse'?" "I can't really remember much. Something about me saying things that make people angry and then them hurting me." "Are you sure this was a curse or just an observation?" "Please Walter, a curse is serious business. So anyway, everything went black and the next thing I know, I'm in jail." "Mulder you have got to stop getting into situations like this. If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, it is really difficult to get the cooperation of the local police on a case, once they recognize you as a past inmate. You have got to . . . " Mulder looked over his shoulder, "It's getting late, Walter, don't you think we should be heading home?" Skinner froze in mid rant, snarled once and easily flipped the surprised agent over his knee. "Walter, stop! What are you doing?" "I...I have to punish you. I have to . . . to hurt . . . you." "Cut it out, Walter. What is wrong with you?" Walter stared down at the shivering man over his lap, and brought his hand down hard on the cold exposed skin. Mulder yelped and tried to wiggle away from the AD. The hand descended again, much harder this time. Producing another yelp and more struggling. Walter seemed to be watching himself from a great distance, as he continued his assault on the squirming man across his lap. Mulder deserved to be punished. He deserved to be punished like never before. He would teach this young man a thing or two. He would make sure this . . . this . . . whatever it was, didn't happen again. The beating went on and on as the flesh under his relentless hand reddened to a fiery hue. Finally, fuzzily Walter began to register the sound of Mulder sobbing. What had happened? He had not intended to punish Mulder tonight, at least not out here in the cold. Actually he had only planned to scare him a little. The naked stuff was mostly for Walter's own enjoyment. But now Mulder was blistered and sobbing across this knees. And he just vaguely remembered doing it. He knew it had, there was no one else around and his own hand was still stinging. But he could not remember much about the actual punishment he had just administered. And what he did recall was fading fast. Walter pulled his agent up and into his arms. "I don't . . . don't know what came over me. Why did I do this Mulder? Wh . . . what happened?" Mulder could only shake his head and sob into his boss' shoulder. The freezing air now felt wonderful against his burning skin. FBI Headquarters Interrogation Room 401 The Next Morning Mulder sat across from the accused serial killer. They had been at this for a while and both agent and suspect were beginning to tire. Gregory Todd Bender was accused of killing nine homosexual men. He had kidnaped and tortured them before finally slitting their throats. The handsome young man sitting across from Special Agent Mulder did not look capable of such acts. He was slender and blond with one of those baby faces that defied age. Greg Bender would, under normal circumstances, look twenty-five when he was forty. Life in prison might change that. Mulder looked into his sky blue eyes. "Come on, Greg. I know you killed those men. It will go easier on you if you confess now." Bender shook his head as he stared across the table at the sympathetic federal agent, "Have you . . . " he swallowed hard, "Do you ever have gay guys hit on you? I thought you might because you're so good-looking and all." "I can see where that might be a problem for you, Greg" "Yeah, it is. It happens to me all the time. I ... I hate it. It happens to you, too, doesn't it?" "Yeah, it happens sometimes. I know how angry it can make a man." "Yes." "Angry enough to want to kill." "Yes. No! I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Mulder. Really. I have nothing against gay men. You have the wrong guy. I just don't like them talking to me, that's all. You understand that don't you? You have to understand that. How they look at you . . . it just makes me so angry. You have to know how that feels. You have to." Mulder kept his voice calm and inviting. He reached his hand out toward the other man in a gesture of friendship, "I want to help you, Greg. I want to make this as easy for you as possible. You need to trust me. You have to tell me the truth. You may think everyone here is against you but we just want to help you." Mulder looked deeply into the suspect's eyes, "Did you kill those men, Greg?" Greg Bender's head snapped up and his eyes glazed over. "You . . . you're just like all the others. You deserve to be punished just like they did." He grabbed the hand Mulder had extended to him and pulled. As the agent lost his balance and fell forward across the table, Bender grabbed a hand-full of dark hair. He slammed Mulder's head face down against the heavy wooden table top. The agent groaned as Bender lifted him back up. Mulder was dazed from the force of the blow but managed to grab Bender's hand, trying desperately to dislodge it from his hair. The guard by the door was watching the action with glazed eyes of his own. He finally decided it was his duty to act. Mr. Bender could not properly punish the agent while shackled to that table. He got the keys out of his pocket and moved toward the two men. Bender slammed Mulder's head down once more. This time when he lifted Mulder's head back up the agent could barely struggle and was moaning loudly. Assistant Director Skinner walked into the viewing room for the Bender interrogation. He always liked watching Mulder work. The man had a real knack for drawing out the suspect. They trusted him with their secrets. Maybe they suspected he had some secrets of his own. Skinner was a little shocked to see that the two agents watching the proceedings were laughing. Mulder was usually effective but rarely funny while conducting a session. He glanced through the window in time to see Gregory Bender slam Mulder's bruised and bleeding head down onto the table, then pull the unresponsive agent up by his hair, preparing to repeat the act. At the same time, the guard was struggling to release the suspect from the table. What the hell! Skinner drew his gun as he barreled into the next room. "Freeze." The guard and the suspect looked up with wide confused eyes at the man with the gun trained on them. As Bender released his hold on Mulder, the injured agent slid bonelessly off the table to land in a lifeless heap on the floor. Skinner motioned his gun at the guard. "Peterson, back away from that man. Agent Ryan, Agent Smith, get in here." The two witnessing agents staggered into the room, holding their heads. "What the hell is going on here?" Skinner growled in his best Marine voice. The air in the room fairly crackled with his rage. Several other agents had now arrived, allowing Skinner to move to his downed agent. "Mulder, can you hear me?" The agent was out cold, blood running down his bruised forehead, covering half his face. "Call an ambulance. And find Agent Scully." "Peterson, Ryan, Smith, report to my office immediately. Jackson, continue this man's interrogation. I want to know what just happened in here." Assistant Director Skinner's Office 20 Minutes Later The three Federal Agents stood at attention in front of the Assistant Director's desk. "What the hell happened in there?" The three men looked at each other. Then Agent Thomas Ryan cleared his throat. "Agent Mulder was interrogating the suspect. It really looked like the guy was starting to trust him, maybe going to open up to him. Then the guy just . . . just . . . I really don't remember, Sir." "And why, may I ask, didn't you go in to assist when a fellow agent was attacked by a suspect in a serial murder case?" Skinner could not remember being this angry. Or this totally baffled by the actions of his men. "I . . . I remember thinking that Spooky deserved to be hurt, Sir, but it seemed like it was coming from a long way off. It was like I was watching it happen but I wasn't really there." The other men were shaking their heads in agreement, looking bewildered and frightened. "I . . . I well . . . I don't know why I would feel that way, Sir. I like Mulder." Office of The Lone Gunmen Later That Day Mulder sagged against the wall and knocked on the door of the Gunmen's latest lair. He raised one hand and gently inspected the bandage that still decorated his forehead. Man that hurt. "Come on, you guys, let me in." Langley opened the door, "Whoa Dude! You look bad." "Just a little bump on the head." He shoved his way past Langley only to be confronted by Frohike. "So why aren't you still in the hospital," the little man asked suspiciously. "We heard the 911 call. 'Officer down' doesn't usually mean you show up here a couple of hours later." "I left the hospital." "You what!" "I left. I have this curse on me and I have to figure out what to do about it. I can't do that from a hospital bed. If I had stayed around there much longer Skinner or Scully would have shown up and I would have been stuck." Frohike snickered, "Oh-h-h, Bad Boy. Scully is going to kill you, you know." "Yeah, right after Skinner gets done with you." Langley offered helpfully. Mulder chose to ignore them. "So about this witch. This curse seems to be triggered by a specific word or maybe a combination of words. If I am careful about what I say, I should be okay." "Well, Claudia Fuller is clean. In fact she is so clean that she didn't exist before April of this year. We're still looking." "Come on you guys," Mulder whined, "I need to know, can't you think of any way to hurry this up?" Mulder started backing for the door as two sets of glazed eyes snapped up at him. He tried to turn and run but the recent blows to his head had slowed him down considerably, Langley and Frohike jumped him before he made it to the door. The last thing he remembered was Langley yelling something about the FBI being responsible for the diabolical release of the new Brady Bunch movies on an innocent and unsuspecting public. Mulder awoke to an electronic beep. Hospital? He was in a hospital? Scully! If this were a hospital, Scully would be here and maybe Skinner, too. He opened his eyes hopefully and encountered . . . *Oh Shit!* The Gunmen had him tied face down to one of their less than sanitary beds and worse than that, he was naked. Double Shit! How was he supposed to break a witch's curse when people keep pulling this crap. He looked over his shoulder to see Frohike advancing on him with a folded leather belt. "You Little Punk Ass, you've deserved this for years. Scully would be mine if you weren't always in the way. Why do women always go for tall, dark and nuts when they could have a real man?" "Oh Yeah, and who would that be? Ouch!" After several more very painful lashes, Mulder had to admit that Frohike was really rather skilled with that strap. He chose an area from the top of Mulder's hips to half way down his thighs and painted it a deep, painful scarlet. Mulder gasped with each stroke and tried valiantly not to scream. For the most part he was successful. Frohike finally stopped when Mulder was sobbing quietly into the pillow under his head. "Oh Wow, that's gotta' hurt." Langley sounded awed by Frohike's efforts. "Can I spend a little time with him now?" "You rape him and Skinner will have your ass." "I wasn't gonna' rape him, just help him forget about how much his butt hurts." "Yeah right, Langley. No way do I want Skinner or Scully in my face. Those two are dangerous with a capital Dee. So hands off the Mulder Toy." "Well it's just not fair," Langley pouted, "he didn't even tell us he liked guys until Skinner had already staked a claim. And, besides that, I saw Mulder first." "As far as I can tell, Foxy Boy doesn't like guys. Only Skinner, for some ungodly reason that I, for one, will never begin to comprehend. So back off before that big macho Boss Daddy of his rips your head off. Not that it would be any great loss." "Hey, you Little Wise Ass, I know . . . " Byers walked into the room, "I got that special connector that we need to . . . " Byers gasped as he surveyed the scene in front of him, "Wh . . . what have you two done! Have you completely lost your minds?" John Byers hurried over to Mulder and began to untie his hands. He turned to his two associates, who were now shaking their heads as if they had been sleeping deeply for a long time. Both Langley and Frohike looked at Mulder with horror as he carefully rose from the bed and then unsteadily to his feet. "It's not their fault, Byers. It's that damned witch. I have to break this spell or I am going to end up back in the hospital. That is if I'm not dead first." Byers handed him his clothes, "Tell us exactly what that woman said to you Mulder. Maybe we can help." After Mulder had explained the whole thing, the three gunmen were shaking their heads. Langley looked at him sadly, "So you don't have any idea what the key phase is?" "Well I thought I did. When I was attacked before I had used the word . . . think," he looked closely at his three friends but got no reaction at all. He sighed, "That is really the only word in common that I have found, at least for the first two times." He glared at Langley and Frohike, " This last time is a complete mystery." Langley eyed him, "You mean Skinner attacked you?" "Well yeah. He . . . he . . . well, never mind what he did but it was like he was in some trance or something. He was really sorry later." "Just how sorry was he, Mulder?" He blushed as Langley leered at him speculatively. FBI Headquarters Next Morning X-Files Office "Don't even talk to me, Scully. I do not want to start my day by having my ass kicked by my partner." "So you still haven't figured out the uh-h-h . . . witch's curse yet, Mulder?" "No I have not. I know it has something to do with me saying something that makes someone else angry. It's really hard to pin down just what it is though." "Yes, I can see that it might be hard to determine just how it is that you invariably anger everyone you come in contact with. I know I've tried to figure it out for years. You know, Mulder, there probably isn't really a curse. It is in all probability all in your own mind. She touched your head and said some spooky words and now you think you have a curse on you. Simple power of suggestion." "So, Oh Partner of Mine, It's your opinion that she out-spooked Spooky. I don't think so! Listen, I've got to get to that Quintin Case Team Meeting up in Skinner's office. We'll discuss why this hypothesis of yours is so-o-o-o very invalid when I get back." Mulder grabbed his coat and headed for the door. As he turned the knob, he looked over his shoulder at Scully. "Think you can hold down the fort, Red?" His smile faded as Scully glazed eyes snapped up and zeroed in on him. For once in his life, Special Agent Fox Mulder vied for self preservation . . . he ran . . . hard and fast. And he didn't stop until he reached Assistant Director Skinner's outer office. Scully would not dare hunt him down and hurt him here. "Hi Kim. Do you think the meeting is ready to start?" He ducked into Skinner's office just as the desk phone hit the door right at eye level. That Kim was a damn good shot. He patted the back of the closed door that had just saved him from another painful head injury and turned to meet the stunned faces of his fellow agents. Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses, "Glad you could join us, Agent Mulder." AD Skinner's Office Quintin Murder Case Team Meeting "Agent Mulder, have you been medically released for duty today?" "Yes, Sir." Skinner eyed him skeptically but decided to ignore it for now. He looked around the table at the six agents assigned to this case. All good men. The killer had just claimed his eighth victim, the daughter of a prominent television minister and a personal friend of the President. When that had happened, the Assistant Director had no choice but to involve Mulder. Skinner sighed deeply, his beautiful, brilliant and recently 'cursed' Mulder. Jeez! We're all doomed. The discussion had been going hot and heavy for almost three hours. Tempers were beginning to wear thin. Skinner was extremely proud of Mulder. He was the picture of the calm, controlled federal agent. Never losing his temper, never raising his voice. Carefully thinking through every word that came out of his mouth. The original profiler on the case, Special Agent Jerry Connors, was positive that the man was picking his victims for their blue eyes and long blond hair. Mulder was just as convinced that all the victims shared an interest in Ouija Boards and were being horrifically murdered by a demon they were calling forth. "Christ Spooky, give us a break. Demons?" Agent Connors fluttered his fingers through the air, "Oh-h-h-h, I want to believe." "Connors, think about it, what else could bite the victim's head off like that?" The room suddenly went deathly quiet and Mulder felt two heavy hands land on his shoulders. Skinner was behind him. He looked around the table. Everyone was staring at him with glazed unblinking eyes. *Oh Shit!* What had he said? Skinner was pulling on his arm, forcing him to rise from his chair. "Lean forward Agent Mulder with your hands on the table. Agent Collins, tell us once more why you believe the man is obsessed with the victim's hair." Mulder felt his boss' arm snake around his waist reaching for his belt buckle. The horrified agent attempted to grab the offending hand before it could finish it's task. "No! You can't do this." Mulder struggled to free himself from Skinner's iron man grasp. "Does anyone here object if I discipline Agent Mulder while we conduct this meeting? Save a little time." Skinner slammed his unwilling agent down flat against the table and jerked one of his arms up to the middle of his back. Mulder groaned in pain. "No one ever deserved it more, Sir." Agent Connors seemed absolutely gleeful. Mulder was in a panic. He felt his slacks pool at his feet, followed closely by his boxers. "Look at the ass on that boy." "Yeah, I always thought Spooky would have a nice ass." Observed Agent Michaels. "One of the finest in the bureau," Skinner concurred proudly. Mulder buried his head in his free arm. This was surreal. Please let this be a really bad nightmare and let me wake up now. It was bad enough that Skinner was obviously going to strap him in front of these other agents but since when did big macho feds discuss other guys' asses. At least there weren't any female agents in the room. Be thankful for small favors. That witch had gone too far this time. He was going to get this curse off if it killed him and her. The belt landed with a blinding flash of pain across his buttocks. This was the third punishment he had received in just a little more than 36 hours and his butt was definitely feeling the effects of past abuse. At this rate he wouldn't be able to sit down before next Christmas. The second stroke landed and Mulder bit his bottom lip hard. He would not let them see how much this was hurting him, not only physically but emotionally as well. His face burned hotly with the humiliation of it all. After about a dozen burning lashes, he felt his pants being raised over his sore blistered backside. He stood up trying to wipe away tears on his coat sleeve before anyone saw them. When he had rearranged his clothing as best he could, he felt Skinner's hands on his shoulders again and he was shoved back down in his chair. Several of the team seemed pleased when he groaned with pain. Connors smirked at the chastised agent, "Well Spooky, do you still belie . . . " "Shut up! All of you just shut up and stay away from me!" Mulder, fresh tears running down his flaming cheeks, pushed his chair back so suddenly it crashed to the floor. The agents around the table jerked at the loud noise and began rubbing their eyes and shaking their heads. "I'm going to contact Father O'Brien to get rid of the demon, whether you agree with my conclusions or not. I just don't care." Mulder stomped from the room, the door slamming violently in his wake. The agents were all staring at Skinner, "Where is Spooky going? What just happened in here? Sir, did you just . . . " "Uh-h-h, don't worry about it Agent Michaels. I'll take care of it. Since Agent Mulder is going to further investigate his demon theory, why don't the rest of you work from Agent Connor's hair and eyes profile." "You don't really think Spooky might be on to something with that demon thing, do you Assistant Director Skinner, Sir?" "I would remind all of you that Agent Mulder has the highest solve rate in the bureau and he is seldom proven to be wrong in his profiles. I would also strongly suggest that all of you refrain from using the name 'Spooky' when referring to Special Agent Mulder. He has earned respect from all of us. You are dismissed." Skinner sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. He had just punished Mulder in front of an entire team. The memory was fading fast but Walter was sure that he had done just that. It was inconceivable. Maybe there was something to this curse thing of Mulder's. X-Files Basement Office 10 Minutes Later Mulder stormed into his office. He had to give Father O'Brien a call. He would arrange for the priest to perform an exorcism on the demon. He felt certain that would end the murders. He and the father had worked together on several occasions, always successfully. Of course, there would be no murder trial. No closure for the families of the victims. Mulder shook his head, but at least no one else would die. And then he was going to work full time on his little curse problem. He was surprised when he looked up to see someone sitting behind his desk. Cancerman. "Mr. Mulder, I've been waiting for you. I have some information about your sister." "Get out of here. I'm not interested in anything you have to say." "Fox, did you know that you have your mother's eyes. They used to flash just like that when she got angry. You get your temper from her, I bet that surprises you." It took everything in Mulder to stop himself from attacking the man in front of him. It was probably what the bastard wanted. Hitting another agent . . . or whatever the hell this man was . . . would get him suspended from the FBI, if not immediately dismissed. "I repeat, get out of my office. And don't talk about my mother or my sister." "Tsk tsk Mulder, and I thought you wanted to find your sister. I thought you felt responsible for reuniting your family. Wanted to help your mother find some happiness again." "Why is my mother's happiness any of your business?" Cancerman was across the room instantly and had delivered a solid right cross to Mulder's jaw that put the younger man flat on his back. The old guy could still hit. Taken totally by surprise at the sudden attack, Mulder did not react quickly enough to avoid a vicious kick to his ribs. Then he was kicked again. Then again. Mulder was finding it hard to breathe, and he could hear Cancerman grunting into his efforts. The man meant business this time. "You always were a pesky Little Shit. I don't know how many times I found you with your nose where it didn't belong. I used to turn you over my knee but you don't remember that do you? Well, I'll leave that delightful chore to Mr. Skinner now." He delivered another kick to Mulder's mid section that brought tears to the agent's eyes. It was quickly followed by a blow that caught the battered man on the side of his head. Mulder was thrown violently back against the floor, unconscious. Cancerman stopped and looked down at the fallen agent. Why had he done that? He didn't intend to resort to physical violence here in the office, especially not with Fox. He really didn't mean to hurt the troublesome boy. Teena would be furious if she found out. He felt frightened by his own actions. He was always in total control, why had he lost it so badly his time? He looked down at the young man and then stooped to take his pulse. Still strong. He picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number. "Assistant Director Skinner's Office. Kimberly speaking." "Tell Mr. Skinner he needs to check on Agent Mulder in the X-Files Office immediately." He hung up the phone still shaking his head at his own loss of restraint. But the memory was fading quickly. He left the office wondering just what had happened there. "Mulder?" The AD leaned anxiously over his agent. Mulder could hear a voice from very far away. Scully? No, Skinner. He opened his eyes to be met by the concerned gaze of his boss. "What happened, Mulder? Who did this to you?" Mulder just stared at him. If he told Walter that Cancerman had beaten him, Skinner might try to do something about it. That could be very dangerous and would probably not result in any kind of justice anyway. Besides, it was the curse that had really caused this to happen. Cancerman had not been there to attack him, just to taunt him. Then he had said something to set him off. What was it? What was the key to this curse? He had better find out and it had better be fast. "I don't remember. I walked in and someone was waiting for me. I didn't see their face. I'm fine, Sir. I want to get up now." "No, you will not get up now. Just lie still, an ambulance is on the way." *Shit!* Mulder's Apartment Later that Evening Mulder sat with his head in his hands. He had once again spent all afternoon in the Hospital Emergency Room. Maybe they should just move his office down there. Save time for everyone. He had to beg Scully to get him released. He couldn't blame her for thinking he needed protection. He had to figure out what was going on with this curse. It had only been one day and his whole body hurt. If this continued much longer, someone would go too far and he could end up in critical condition in some hospital room. Or worse, he would say the 'curse phrase' around Scully and she would just go ahead and kill him. She had probably subconsciously wanted to do that for years. He was certain he had correctly figured out that much of the curse. If he said a particular word or phase, the people around him did what they had always wanted to do to him. Gave him 'what he deserved', so to speak. His friends beat him and his enemies tried to kill him. Comforting thought. Mulder heard a knock. He pulled his gun and moved cautiously to open the door just a crack so he could peer out into the hall. Skinner. *Oh Shit!* "Sir. I think it would be better if you didn't come in here right now." "Fox, I just want to make sure you're all right. Scully said you wouldn't stay at her apartment tonight. Let me in, just for a little while." Mulder sighed, "All right, come on in Walter. But no hitting." "I'm not here to hit you, Mulder. How could you think such a thing?" "Sorry, it's this curse." "Can I do anything to help, Mulder?" "I don't know. I wish I did. I just can't figure out what it is that I do or say that makes people want to hurt me." "Well, you're enormously sarcastic, for one. And arrogant. And irritating. And hot headed. When you start throwing one of your temper tantrums, anyone within thirty feet would just love to put you over their knee. And you never listen to reason or look out for your own safety. You're reckless and incredibly stubborn and have no respect at all for authority. Then there is the way you look, that pouty bottom lip just screams 'brat'. It's something about your face Mulder, like a mischievous little boy who is just begging for a good spanking." "Gee thanks, Walter. You've made me feel a whole lot better." "Really? Well, I'm glad I could help. Now why don't you come home with me. I don't like the idea of you being here all alone." Mulder came over and kissed Skinner's cheek as he all but pushed him out the door. "No, I need to do some thinking. I'll be fine here tonight. Don't worry. I'll see you in the morning. And tell Scully not to call here every fifteen minutes either." He finally got his boss out the door, without getting any kind of punishment, he noted proudly. It seemed he had no sooner resumed his position on his couch than someone once again knocked on his door. Mulder sighed, this apartment hasn't seen this much action in at least a year. He threw the door open, "Look I just need a little time to . . . Oh, Mrs. Scully. Please, come in. It's nice to see you." "Hello Fox Dear. Is Dana here by any chance? Bill Jr. came in town unexpectedly and I wanted both of you to join us for dinner." "No, she isn't here, Mrs. Scully. I think she went out with that attorney friend of hers, Barbara something or other." "Oh Fox, did you and Dana have a fight?" "No, of course not, Mrs. Scully. She did call me stubborn because I wouldn't let her spend all night nursing this little bump on my head. But we didn't really argue." "Well that's good, Dear. Dana loves you very much you know." Mulder's face lit up, "Do you really think so?" Maggie Scully grabbed his arm, her eyes glazed, "I have to punish . . . I have to. . . ." "No, Mrs. Scully! Please! Don't hit me!" She saw Mulder's beautiful hazel eyes start to fill with tears. Maggie released his arm and raised her hand to pat his cheek lovingly, "Oh Fox, I'm not going to hit you. I would never have made it through Dana's three month disappearance without your support. I'm so very fond of you, Dear. But . . . I do feel this . . . this urge to punish someone. I know! It's that Bill Jr. He has been completely out of control since his father died. Ordering the whole family around like some newly crowned king or something. I am going to go straight home and give that young man a good dose of my hairbrush. Get him back on the right track in a hurry." Mulder could only gape at her in shock. "Fox Dear, you're much too handsome to stand there with your mouth hanging open like that." She gently pushed his chin up until his lips met. "If you hear from Dana, tell her I'm looking for her. I'll be at home attending to her brother." As the door closed behind Scully's Mom, Mulder raised both hands in the air and stomped his feet. "Yes! This is great! Bill Jr. gets my beating. Life is good! This curse thing has an up side after all." Finished with his small victory dance, Mulder collapsed on his couch. Back to the curse problem. He obviously needed help. Who could break a curse? Another stronger witch for one. But he didn't know any witches, strong or otherwise. Could his mother help him? She had never been of much assistance in the past. She was better at needing aid than at giving it. And he doubted she had really developed into a very good witch. She had never gotten the knack of fixing her own lunch, so he very much doubted she would 'wow' anyone with her magic potions. And he was certain that she thought brooms came with maids attached. No, once again, he could not turn to his mother. Okay, so that left? No! He was not going to call that damned vampire. No way! Okay, maybe, as an absolute last resort but . . . His thoughts were interrupted as his door was kicked in. Mulder stood and grabbed for his gun but it was too late. The intruder stood in front of him, his gun leveled at Mulder's head. "Hello, Mulder." "Krycek, you could at least knock first. Maybe see if I would consider letting you in before you destroy my door. What the hell are you doing here anyway?" Before Mulder had time to finish his sentence, Krycek had him pinned to the floor, a strong arm across his throat, instantly and completely shutting off the agent's supply of air. Mulder gasped for breath and struggled for all he was worth. He felt the darkness closing in as one fat glistening tear rolled down his cheek. Krycek immediately let up on his throat. "Mulder, what the hell! Are you okay? I don't know why I did that. I only came here to give you some more information. I. . .I don't . . . " Mulder sat gasping for breath. "It was . . . the . . . curse." Krycek rubbed his ex-partner's back in small soothing circles. He hoped Mulder would stay out of it for a while longer. He liked touching him in this way. "Curse, Mulder?" Mulder shrugged off Krycek's hands. Alex sighed and moved to sit on the couch. "Nothing you could help me with, Krycek. You wouldn't believe me anyway. Nobody does." "Don't be so sure, Mulder. I'm from Russia. In my country we aren't so quick to disbelieve in curses. Besides I told you once that I had followed your work and that I respected your ideas. I didn't lie about that. Tell me who put this curse on you. You are important to the coming confrontation. We can't lose you just because you pissed off some two bit magician or something." Mulder glared at him, "It wasn't a magician," he stuck his lip out a good half inch, "It was a witch." "A witch, huh? You always had a way with the ladies, Mulder." Mulder grunted at him as he looked around for his lost gun. Then he noticed his guest was holding it up for him to see, "I'll just keep this for a while. You can be a little antisocial at times. And if you even think about going for that ankle holster I guarantee you a trip to the hospital. You know you hate hospitals, so just try to be a good boy for once. And stop that pouting. While I do find it immensely attractive, I think we have more important things to attend to at the moment. So, tell me what you did to piss off this witch. I may be able to help you. By the way, you did say witch with a W, right? We aren't talking about Scully here, are we?" "Cut it out, Krycek! I've obviously run out of options dealing with this on my own and I do not want to call Vince. Which I'm sure you can understand from your dealings with him. So you'll probably be as much help as anyone else." Mulder got to his feet, "Do you want some coffee?" When Mulder came to, he was lying on his couch with Double Agent and Kidnapper of Red Headed Partners, Alex Krycek holding his hand. "Wh . . . what happened?" "I'm not sure. You were going to make coffee and then I just had to . . . had to . . . and then you yelled and not that I don't think you deserve . . . but I felt like . . . like I was . . . " "It's a question!" "What?" "It's a question. I thought it was a word but it's a question . . . any question." "Mulder, I know it's tough for you, but could you please try to make some sense here." "When I ask a question, anyone who is around me wants to instantly beat me up." "Yeah, so?" "That's the curse." "Well, that's not very original. Your questions have always had that effect on people." "Yeah, but now they have to act on their impulse to hurt me. They can't help it. My friends do it in a more uh-h-h-h . . . personal manner but everyone feels an irresistible urge to cause me pain." "Then just don't ask any questions." The two men just looked at each other, then Krycek smiled. "Mulder you are in deep shit." Claudia Fuller's House Greenwich, CT "This isn't going to work." "Sure it is, Mulder. Have a little faith in good old Russian folklore. My Grandmother told me all about this. She said it cleaned out a whole village of witches." "I don't remember reading about that in the Washington Post or even the Globe, for that matter." "It was in 1784, I think. Or maybe it was 85." "Great." "Come on, Mulder. Just knock on the door. You get her to deny her true self three times and I'll hit her with the pepper spray." "I'm sure pepper spray was easy to obtain in 1784 Russia." "Well, they used these sacred hallowed peppercorns that had been sanctified in some full moon ritual or some such shit. This spray should work okay. I stopped and splashed some Holy Water on the can on my way here." "My understanding of what you just said is that you actually had the nerve to take that can of pepper spray, a weapon of sorts, into a church and stick it in the Holy Water basin thingy." "Yeah, but Scully didn't see me." "Scully! Scully was . . . " "Mulder, do not finish that question. Just calm down. I got in and out, no one saw me. Well, except for that alter boy but he wasn't very tough and luckily I had the silencer on my gun." "Wh . . . what! You . . . you . . . " "Kidding, Mulder. Just relax and knock on the door. It's time to rock n' roll!" Mulder put his head in his hands, groaning. "We're going to die. She is going to kill us, that is if she doesn't die laughing first." Mulder knocked on the door. Claudia Fuller smiled brightly, "My beautiful little Fox, how exceedingly marvelous that you came to visit me. And you have brought an equally lovely friend, how considerate of you. I have completely forgiven your little transgression, by the way. Please come in and sit down. You handsome boys are so kind to spend your time with a lonely old lady." As soon as they were inside, Mulder turned to the matronly woman, "I need you to take your spell off of me, Mrs. Fuller." "What are you talking about, Fox? What a dreadful thing to say. Please don't make me call your Mother. She wouldn't like it if she knew you were bothering me again." "She wouldn't like you putting a curse on me either. You, Mrs. Fuller, are a witch." "How could you accuse me of such a thing, Fox? I didn't put a curse on you and I am certainly not a witch. You are an evil young man to even suggest something like that." Mulder glanced at Krycek who nodded slightly. *That's One!* "So you are telling me Mrs. Fuller, that you don't know how to execute a curse. That you lack the knowledge it would take to pull off something of this magnitude. You are clearly saying that you don't know how to bind a spell," Mulder leaned in close, getting in her personal space, pushing her, "You are admitting that you are . . . at best, an incompetent witch." "Your mother is right, you are a pain in the butt. Always asking questions, always sticking your nose in other people's business. If . . . if I were a witch, I would be unsurpassed in my field but . . . I'm . . . I'm not a witch, Fox. Now please leave my home." *That's Two!* "I know you are a witch, Mrs. Fuller." Mulder stared at the ceiling with a far away look in his hazel eyes, "I know there are more things under heaven and on earth than is known or understood by most men. I have seen aliens, green and gray and oil based and disguised as repulsive cockroaches. I once saw a sea monster. Well I didn't actually see him but I saw a picture of his tooth. Of course Scully didn't think it was really a tooth but it killed a bunch of frogs and ate her yippy little dog. And I once spent a week in a New Jersey sewer and saw a man who was fathered by a worm and who lived in poop and liked it. I know that werewolves are plagued by fleas and that vampires are afraid of blood. I've seen a tattooed circus geek who ate cranberries willingly. So you see, I know what you are Mrs. Fuller, I know what you do. You are a witch." He looked back from his musings to see that both Krycek and Claudia Fuller were looking at him in stunned silence. Mulder stuck his bottom lip out and glared at Krycek, "Well she is!" "I am not!" *That's Three!* Krycek jumped forward and sprayed Claudia Fuller with his holy pepper spray. She gasped in shock and then she began to scream, her body shaking violently. Her inhuman screeching so loud Mulder and Krycek had to cover their ears. Her palpitations so fierce that the entire house was effected, vibrating on it's foundation. A fierce wind whipped around the room blinding the two men with the debris that swirled and swooped through the air. The witch seemed to be spinning now, faster and faster. A solitary stick figure dancing frantically in the eye of a tornado. And then Claudia Fuller just exploded in an impressive burst of blood and gore. The wind stopped abruptly and the room was instantly as silent as a tomb. Neither Mulder nor Krycek spoke for several long moments. Mulder finally wiped at his face, "Yuck! I thought she would just dissolve into a nice little puddle or something. How are we going to explain this?" He looked around at the blood soaked room. "I don't . . . Hey you asked a question and I'm not hitting you! The curse it gone. It worked!" "Yeah, it did! But I repeat, how are we going to explain this?' "You can just tell Skinner that you came to apologize to Mrs. Fuller and during your visit she was hit with Super Distructo Gamma Laser Beams directed from a secret Reticulin Battle Station located near the Omega Fulla Crapa Sector. He'll buy that." "Do you really think so, Alex?" Mulder gave him a couple of wide eyed blinks while Krycek tried to determine once again how he would ever manage to keep the naive and totally clueless Mulder alive long enough for him to save the world. Very scary thought. FBI Headquarters Assistant Director Skinner's Office Next Morning "Okay, Mulder let me get this straight. You went to see Mrs. Fuller accompanied by a known felon, Alex Krycek. Who escaped before you could arrest him." "Yes, Sir." "And you went there for the purpose of using some eighteenth century Russian Folklore to expose this woman as a witch?" "Yes, Sir." "And during this undercover operation, you told her about some of your X-Files cases. The mutants and the aliens and the vampires driving recreational vehicles?" "I wanted her to deny her powers." "And you thought that telling her about a man who lived in a sewer and ate shit all day would do that?" "Yes, sir." "How long were you in her home, Agent Mulder?" "About two hours, Sir." "And did you do most of the talking?" "Yes, Sir." "And after listening to you for two hours, she just sort of . . . blew herself up." "Yes sir." "The woman had a lot of stamina didn't she, Agent Mulder?' "She was a tough one, Sir." "She was also a serial killer. We finally were able to get some information on her. She had been traveling across country killing for at least ten years. She is responsible for some twenty-three deaths, maybe more. The official cause of her death by . . . uh, self-detonation is now listed as suicide in the face of capture." Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. There for a while he had been worried he would have to try that story that Krycek had come up with. He wasn't sure Skinner would buy the part about the Gamma Laser Beams. Skinner wasn't stupid. Everyone knew that those beans would melt a human not cause them to explode. He had tried to point that out to Krycek but the Russian had told Mulder to just shut up before he made him lose all hope for the survival of the human race. Whatever that meant. "Good work, Agent Mulder. I'll put a commendation on your file." "Thank you, Sir? Now could we talk about the 302 request I submitted this morning? Vince says . . . " "Vince the delusional, probably insane, self appointed, vampire? I thought I told you not to associate with that man anymore. Mulder, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, if you hang around with weird people, you will . . . " The End of eight Continued 9