TITLE: "Smoking Shadows (1/1)"
AUTHOR: Annie Sewell-Jennings
E-MAIL: auralissa@aol.com
SUMMARY: When worlds collide, slash often happens. Mulder/Spike
CATEGORY: m/m slash, crossover between "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" 
and "The X-Files"
RATING: Definitely NC-17
SPOILERS: Season Seven of XF and Season Four of BTVS 
DISCLAIMER: The character of Spike is the property of Joss Whedon 
and Mutant Enemy Productions, and the character of Mulder is the 
property of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. Although, 
since Mulder's gone in "The X-Files", does this mean that I can 
call dibs on him? Hmm...
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is all for Diana, who requested it and 
helped me figure out how to do it. My gift for thee, Diana, o 
twisted fanfiction author. Merry Christmas, you sick freak. <g>

*****

Smoking Shadows

*****

"The queerest of the queer
 The strangest of the strange
 The coldest of the cool
 The lamest of the lame
 You're nothing special here
 The fate behind the fear
 The queerest of the queer"
 --Garbage

*****

Of all the things that Mulder hated, one of them was nightclubs.

When he had been in college, the students frequented them on the 
weekends, flocking to the crowded London warehouses where punk 
bands were gods and studded dog collars were more popular than 
Jesus Christ himself (though Mulder had never been a big member 
of that fan club to begin with). They always stumbled back home 
to the flats singing songs by David Bowie and by Blondie, hair 
spiked into mohawks and often sporting new tattoos or piercings. 
Mulder never bothered with them then, and he didn't feel like 
bothering with them now.

But the Bronze was where his contact had requested their meeting, 
and therefore Mulder went.

After all, it was all for Scully.

The unique perfume of cigarette smoke and stale beer imbedded 
itself into his skin as Mulder walked through the door, feeling 
shamefully out of place around the throngs of teenagers crowded 
onto the dance floor. He felt like a teacher had just made his 
way into the club where high school and college kids gathered in 
a fit of rebellion. No matter that he had abandoned his suit for 
a leather jacket and a pair of jeans; Fox Mulder stood out and 
there was no other way to deny it. Surrounded by teenagers in 
snakeskin tube tops and leather miniskirts, he was a sore thumb 
as always.

Undercover had never been his strong suit to begin with.

And then he found someone who stuck out worse than he did.

Sitting underneath what appeared to be a fire escape of some 
sort, alone at a table, was a man smoking a cigarette who stood 
out remarkably among the glittering youths, and his hair took 
most of the blame. It was bleached beyond reason, blisteringly 
blonde, like lightning, slicked back and shining underneath the 
mirrorball that dangled from the ceiling above him. The 
flickering cherry of a cigarette spark smoldered between two 
fingers that were tipped with chipped black nail polish, and a 
startlingly generous mouth pursed as he smoked thoughtfully 
underneath the lights. He was dressed in black like Johnny Cash 
gone punk, and shadows fell from high, exotic cheekbones as he 
stared with frank amusement at Mulder.

And Mulder had a sinking suspicion that this was his guy.

The smirk across the young man's face widened as Mulder 
approached him, and smoke from his cigarette veiled his exotic 
face as the agent sat down across from him. "I don't even have to 
ask who you are," the bleach-job said, his words punctuated by 
exhaled cigarette smoke and defined by a rough British accent. "A 
blind person could spot you as a fed."

Irritated slightly, Mulder gave the man a dry smile. "So you're 
Spike," he said, and Spike scowled, taking a long drag from his 
cigarette.

"Yeah, that's me," he said with a disgusted look. "Nasty thing, 
this chip. Spoils all of my fun and gives me blistering headaches 
to boot. Right now, the current bane of my existence." Then he 
turned his head and gave Mulder a smirk that seemed to be 
familiar on Spike's mouth. "Or lack thereof."

Puzzled but not wanting to probe deeper, Mulder shook his head. 
"Can you describe to me the events under which the chip was 
inserted into your body?" he asked, and Spike chuckled, 
stretching his arms behind his head and turning the smirk full-
force onto Mulder, dark eyes blazing underneath the frenetic 
dance of the lights.

"You make it sound so romantic," Spike commented with a sneer. 
"Yeah, I'll tell you my story. But first, you're going to order 
me a beer. I'm going to bloody need one if I have to go through 
this again."

Sighing, Mulder turned around and gestured for a young waitress 
snapping gum to come over. When the little snip of a thing came 
over, he ordered himself and his accomplice a Shiner. When he was 
finished, he turned to the peroxide blond and arched his eyebrow, 
Scully-style. "Better?" he asked, and his informant smiled in a 
fashion that was oddly appealing.

"Much."

Clearing his throat, Mulder leaned forward. "What were the 
circumstances surrounding the chip?"

Spike sighed and extinguished his dying cigarette into the 
plastic ashtray set before him, folding his hands in front of 
him. "I was abducted by government agents like yourself, Agent 
Mulder," he said, a snide tone entering his dark voice. "They put 
a sodding chip in my head that prohibits me from feeding."

Mulder frowned. "Feeding?"

A half-smile curled across Spike's face, and he turned his head 
to Mulder. "Oh, didn't I mention that?" he said archly, and then 
he leaned in so close that he should have felt warm, alcohol-
scented breath pass across his mouth. //Blue,// Mulder thought 
dazedly. //His eyes are blue.// Shadows clung to Spike's high, 
seemingly feline cheekbones, and his mouth was ripe and smirking 
as he spoke.

"I'm a vampire."

Two years ago, Mulder would have been shocked. Paralyzed with 
excitement, even. But instead, all that he did was look at Spike 
with dry amusement. "Of course you are," he said in a tone that 
was more than a little condescending.

All it did was cause a spark of sheer entertainment to cross 
Spike's face, and he leaned back, that deadly smirk still leering 
at Mulder in a fashion that made Mulder decidedly uncomfortable. 
"Believe me or don't, Agent," he said. "Your choice. But here's 
what I really want to know - why did you drop everything and 
cross the country to find out about my bleeding chip?" The smirk 
broadened, if such a thing were possible, and Mulder was 
beginning to feel a little hot underneath the collar of his 
leather jacket. "Was it because of your partner?"

Taken aback, Mulder leaned in. "What the hell..."

Triumphant, Spike leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands 
behind his head and arching one dark eyebrow at Mulder that was 
curiously scarred. "Most vampires aren't very technologically 
sound," he said in a conversational tone, "but I'm not most 
vampires. And my current favorite modern invention happens to be 
the Internet. You can uncover a wealth of information on the 
Internet, and something that I managed to uncover was the history 
of Agent Fox Mulder and his pretty little partner, Dana Scully. 
And what I discovered was that your little minx has a chip in her 
head, too."

Knowing that he had Mulder rapt with attention (and Mulder was), 
Spike leaned in for the kill. "So, tell me, Agent Mulder, did you 
come here because of love?" he asked, danger and deception 
flickering in his eyes like dark candles.

And Mulder couldn't say anything; he just averted his eyes and 
wished that the waitress would hurry up with his beer. Anything 
to take the edge off of Spike and the smirk that seemed to crawl 
underneath his skin and make his blood flow quicker than it 
should be able to flow. Anything to cease this thrall that Spike 
seemed to hold over him.

It was electric, the tension between them. Flickering and 
intensifying, crashing across the wires underneath frenetic 
electric lights. And Mulder could say nothing, could do nothing, 
but nod his head, enthralled by the look on Spike's face. "Yes," 
he croaked, and Spike leaned in, a smile stretching across the 
plush expanse of his mouth.

"Then why not do something, just for once, that isn't for love?"

The softness of Spike's mouth was stunning compared to the sharp 
and jagged edges that created the rest of him, and Mulder 
succumbed to it, helpless to fight it, as Spike crushed his mouth 
to Mulder's and stole away a kiss with his thieving, robbing 
lips. Greed and hunger were the essence of the kiss, the 
motivators and controllers of it. Helpless to stop it, Mulder 
closed his eyes and responded, tasting the cool alcoholic breath, 
and then, underneath it, the faint taste of liquefied pennies. 
Coppery, warm, vibrant and alive...

The taste of blood.

Gasping, Mulder pulled away, eyes wide and shocked while staring 
at the blond man, who chuckled at his reaction. "You..." he 
choked, and Spike just sneered, a blatantly sexual look on his 
face that was predatory and hungry all at once.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "And you just kissed one." And then he 
leaned in again, so close that when he spoke, his mouth brushed 
against Mulder's. "And you want to do it again."

Spike was right. Mulder did want to do it again, and more. He 
wanted to take Spike out into the alleyway and strip him of his 
clothing and his defenses, to see if there was anything 
underneath the heated but cool veneer and taste all of the 
history that the vampire had stolen away. Right and wrong be 
damned, he felt his arousal with a carnality that was shocking, 
could feel it in the way his erection strained against his blue 
jeans. And he knew it by the way that his hand shook when he 
placed a five dollar bill on the table and followed Spike out to 
the alleyway.

The shadows embraced the two men as Spike pushed Mulder against 
the wall, a snide expression crossing his unusual face, and then 
his mouth was crushed again, ravaged and pillaged by Spike's 
teeth and tongue, his fists grabbing the lapels of Mulder's 
leather jacket and bunching them into balls. Furiously, Spike 
tore the jacket off of Mulder, revealing nothing more than a 
heather-colored tee shirt, and Spike pulled away, a wicked smile 
tearing across his face. "I hope you didn't care for that shirt 
too much, mate," he said. "Because it's history."

With that, the shirt fell to the ground in tatters, and chipped 
black fingernails scraped down the length of Mulder's chest, 
causing Mulder to hiss out a cry of delicious ecstasy, arching 
his back and tossing his head backwards, not even noticing when 
it hit the wall behind him. With a furious shrug, Spike removed 
his worn leather duster, letting the jacket fall to the dirty, 
grimy ground without a care for it. Silk dragons grinned 
mercilessly at Mulder from the silk of Spike's shirt, and then 
that was gone too, revealing muscular forearms covered in skin 
the color of white gold. Black cotton clung to Spike's taut 
abdomen, but not for long; Mulder ruined that by ripping it from 
Spike's body.

At Spike's amused look, Mulder grinned. "Turnaround is only 
fair," he said, and Spike smirked.

"So it is," he agreed, and then kissed Mulder again, sliding a 
cool, blood-warmed mouth against Mulder's, and fingernails 
scraped across his nipples, down the slope of his stomach, to his 
belt buckle. Neat gestures undid him, and Mulder felt his jeans 
slide off of his hips and the black cotton boxer briefs followed 
suit. The cool night air embraced his erection as it was 
unleashed, and Mulder groaned, feeling Spike's cool fingers slide 
up and down the length of it. Elegant, sweeping gestures, and 
then he stepped back, undoing the buckle of his clinging black 
jeans.

Mulder was less than surprised with the fact that Spike wore no 
underwear.

A smirk rippled across Spike's mouth, and he turned Mulder 
around, facing the brick wall, and then leaned his chin on 
Mulder's shoulder, mouth brushing against the fine hairs on the 
back of his neck. "Now, I know that your personal motto is 'trust 
no one', Agent Mulder, but I'd highly suggest that you make an 
exception for me," Spike murmured. And then he chuckled, a 
velvety chuckle that made heat flood Mulder's veins. "After all, 
everyone makes exceptions for me."

And with that, Spike slid his hands around Mulder's hips and 
began to massage his cock, black fingernails flashing across the 
length of it like fragmented ebony. The warmth of Spike's mouth 
pressed against the nape of Mulder's neck, and he could feel the 
length of Spike's own cock against the curve of his ass, warmed 
by the blood that he had stolen and hard. Mulder hissed out a cry 
when Spike's fingers trailed up the underside of Mulder's penis, 
fingertips brushing against his heavy, aching balls, making 
Mulder shudder with ecstasy. "Jesus," Mulder whispered hoarsely, 
and he cried out, hips arching when the vampire behind him began 
to move with a faster pace, fisting him roughly and divinely all 
at the same time.

He could feel himself nearing the brink, bliss flooding him like 
blood, and everything became a blur of unusual arousal, from 
Spike's fingers sliding over his cock to the cool, moist mouth 
licking at the top of his spine. Torn in two by arousal, flooded 
with heat and surrounded by cool porcelain skin, Mulder hoarsely 
choked out a whimper of helpless desire, and Spike removed his 
hands, leaving Mulder on the edge of climax. "Spike," Mulder 
rasped, and then...

Pure bliss shimmered across his body when Spike's cock entered 
him, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, and Mulder threw his head 
back, biting down on a scream, and Spike swallowed it by leaning 
his head forward and crushing his mouth with a blistering kiss. 
Silenced by the intensity of Spike's mouth, Mulder arched his 
back and felt the moist length of Spike's cock fill him, 
thrusting behind him, and Mulder braced himself against the wall, 
knees weakening with desire. Spike's hands scoured down the 
length of his body, fingernails scratching his chest and drawing 
blood, and Mulder wanted it. Wanted the pleasurable pain of it, 
and needed the fire that Spike inspired inside of him.

Sweat dripped down his brow, and the vampire scraped his teeth 
against the droplet of Mulder's lower lip, capturing his screams, 
stifling his cries, silencing his moans with a continuous, never-
ending kiss. Hips thrust in the ill-lit alley, heat poured across 
Mulder's body, and Spike continued to thrust, his fingers 
scrawling meaningless designs across Mulder's chest. Mulder had 
never experienced something as violently sexual, something so 
primal and delicious, like a brutal brand of bliss.

And then, as Spike bit into Mulder's lip and drew blood, Mulder 
came with a muffled moan, a fury that would always be remembered 
as this carnal coupling in a dark alley.

And all the while the muted bass of club music pumped through the 
walls of the Bronze and emptied into the street.

*****

Smoke rose from the cigarette as he sat in the Bronze, whirling 
and spiraling towards the ceiling in harsh circles and ringlets 
of misty gray. The lights captured it and changed its color to a 
harsh, volatile crimson, and then it disintegrated, disappearing 
and fading into the night.

Spike smiled.

The waitress sauntered up to him, a smirk on her lovely young 
face, and placed a Shiner on the table. "Sorry about the wait," 
she apologized, and Spike just flashed a charming smile at her, 
pressing a crisp ten-dollar bill into the palm of her hand.

"Forgiven."

The beer was bitterly good, and he gulped it down, looking at the 
spread of money that fanned out on the table in a cascade of 
crisp green. Granted, they weren't truly his, but it didn't 
matter to him. They were his now, his reward, as was the taste of 
blood that still lingered on his mouth below the flavor of burned 
tobacco and bitter, cold beer. Unusual blood, blood that tasted 
of horrors and passion, and blood that had been stolen from a 
most unusual man's mouth.

He had to admit that Fox Mulder was one excellent fuck.

A smirk crossed his face as he thought of the man awakening the 
next morning in his hotel room, scratches crisscrossing his 
chest, mouth sore and bruised from the cruel kisses that Spike 
had taken from him. It was the only way that he could get fresh 
blood nowadays - taking it in the moments where pain transferred 
to pleasure, when agony transformed into ecstasy. And Mulder had 
been in the grips of it.

Images of Mulder's bronzed skin, of his perfectly delectable 
mouth, of his startlingly gray-green eyes clouded over with lust 
clouded his mind, and Spike smiled, taking another drag from his 
post-climax cigarette. He wondered if Mulder would be back for 
more, to wrest his story from him, and Spike hoped so. Another 
bruising encounter in the alleyway would certainly brighten up 
his week. Another taste of him...

But until then, Spike would just fade back into the shadows, and 
cloud himself over with cigarette smoke.

And he would smile.

*****

(end)

*****

Send any flames/feedback to me at auralissa@aol.com. Diana, hope 
it was good for you. <G>

*****