(Part 1 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

RATING: NC-17, and I mean it. This story contains cursing, graphic sexual situations and some violence. Forewarned is forearmed. If you don't like really graphic stuff, STOP HERE!

SUMMARY: A tough day at the office causes Walter Skinner to experience a really strange dream featuring two very Special Agents. I thought Mr. Skinner needed to take a walk on the wild side. The story starts out as a surrealistic and very hot dream and ends up as an X-File for Skinner. Be warned that once again, this story is for mature audiences only. Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? Hey, I can always use a good "weenie" roast.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING. X-Files Spoilers? Well, they are too negligible to mention, I think. However, for those of you who are familiar with Mitch Pileggi's early career, you may recognize the reference to his starring role in the film "Shocker", in the

KEYWORDS: story romance angst Skinner NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. The lyrics to "Electric Chair" are property of Prince, Warner Communications, and Controversy Music/WB Music Corp. ASCAP. The song appeared on Prince's Batman soundtrack album. Once again, no copyright infringement, etc. is intended.

Electric Chair

by frogdoggie

The traffic light turned green and Walter Skinner laid on the horn as the driver ahead of him sat day dreaming. 'Great, just what I need after a shitty day,' he thought, 'an incipient case of road rage.' Forcing himself to back down and remain calm, he drove his sports car

through the light and turned up the boulevard heading to his high rise apartment building and home.

Shitty day was an understatement. Meeting after meeting had been worse than the last until they all blurred together in an excruciating headache. He'd barely had time to dash into his executive bathroom to down some aspirins before Mulder and Scully had shown up at his receptionist's desk. Next, he had spent the better part of an hour arguing with them over the fine points of a really nutcase X-File before he gave up the ghost and sent them on their merry way. 'God, those two can really get under my skin,' he mused between clenched teeth. Mulder had been especially gauling, in fine antagonistic form. Scully for her part, always remained professional - polite, but firm, the perfect counterpoint to her brilliant, but erratic partner. What really torqued Skinner though, was that as much as Scully was polite she was also always intensely loyal to Mulder. He considered the quality to be admirable, but it could also be maddeningly frustrating. The pair's 'Good cop, bad cop' act sometimes drove him to distraction.

'Who was he kidding, though?' He admired them both. Hell, their dedication, passion, commitment and loyalty to each other, and the job was all he could ask for in his agents. Sometimes he loathed himself for the position he was forced to take with them. Under other circumstances he would be right there behind them, supporting their every move all

the way to the bank. On days like this, he hated the job for turning him into someone he didn't even recognize.

Now, he used the catharsis of driving to erase the days tensions. It was a fine summer night, not too hot, and he had the roadster's top down, enjoying the breeze against his scalp. The late model sports car was a hobby of his. He had restored it himself and it was one of the few toys he allowed himself to keep around. 'It was also one of the few big ticket items his wife had allowed him to keep after the divorce,' he thought wistfully, pressing down on the accelerator. He had a lead foot and he new it, but on this night his thoughts were elsewhere. He just wanted to drive hard, and drive fast, in a race to escape the demons that were troubling him.

Before he realized it, he heard the blare of a siren and saw the flashing lights as one of DC's finest pulled up behind him.

"Oh, shit." he said out loud, glancing at the speedometer. They had him, he thought. 'Wonderful,' he mentally kicked himself as he pulled over to the curb. Ever cautious about his heavy gas pedal, this was literally the first time in his adult life that Skinner had been pulled over for speeding.

The man in blue left the squad and walked up to the driver's side window. "Can I see some ID, Sir?" he asked politely. The cop was just a kid. Skinner pulled out his FBI badge ID and handed it to the officer.

The cop took one look at the ID and said quickly, "Sorry, sir, try to take it a little slow from here on out, ok?"

Skinner stared at him, glasses reflecting in the lights of the patrol car. He peered at the kid's ID tag.

"Ah, Officer Rand," he said gruffly, "Just give me the ticket."

"Sir?" Rand replied, confused.

"Just cite me, you've got me dead to rights. I don't expect any special treatment." he snarled. The last thing he was going to do was let this kid fix a ticket for him.

"Yes, sir." the officer replied, slightly cowed. "May I see your driver's license and registration than?" he added.

Moments later, ticket in his suit coat pocket, Walter Skinner pulled away from the curb and continued home, chastened, his speed at a much more acceptable level.

-End of Part 1-

(Part 2 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

The bachelor apartment was dark and empty. Skinner wandered around turning on lights. He removed his gun, tie, shoes and socks and padded into the kitchen to poke dismally through his refrigerator. Normally he was hungry, and being a fairly decent cook, liked to rustle himself up something interesting to eat after work. But instead, tonight, he turned and headed straight for his bar, where a fresh bottle of scotch had his name written all over it.

Pouring several fingers worth of the amber liquid into a tumbler, Skinner took it, and the bottle, and plodded over to the couch. Easing himself down onto the cushions, he grabbed the TV remote. 'He could just catch the end of the early news', he thought as he flipped on the power button.

The news, in keeping with his rotten day, seemed to be all bad. Only the weather was upbeat. It was going to be a sunny day tomorrow. Good, tomorrow was Friday. Skinner would think about taking the day off and doing something pleasant outdoors for a change. Presently, the news broadcast ended and as Skinner poured himself another scotch, a movie came on the same channel. It was the film, Batman, starring Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson. 'Well, this isn't so bad' Skinner thought. He recalled he had seen this film and enjoyed it, so he sat back and prepared to lose himself in a little light entertainment.

As the movie ran it's course along with the bottle of scotch, Skinner was aware he was getting drunk. "Fuck it," he said to the empty room. He hadn't had a drink in weeks. 'Still, drinking alone is a really bad habit to get into,' he thought, capping the bottle and placing it, and the glass aside on the coffee table in front of him. He turned his attention back to the Caped Crusader, but before he knew it, he was dozing off.

-End of Part 2-

(Part 3 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

Skinner's exhaustion took him into REM sleep very quickly and from the look and feel of it, he was in for a really vivid dream experience. He just hoped it wasn't going to be one of those awful Vietnam nightmares he'd had periodically since the end of the war.

'No, it isn't the Vietnam jungle after all,' he thought. It was an urban jungle, a dark, cluttered alley in a really bad section of DC, and Skinner was standing outside the doors to an ancient looking brick warehouse. The thud, thud, thud of loud music was coming from within the walls and curious, Walter Skinner opened the door and walked in. Pandemonium assailed his senses as he entered the cavernous building. Obviously, a Rave was going on. Sweeping multi colored lights, smoke, and some kind of extremely loud, techno, tribal, industrial rock music (the kind that vibrated your whole intestinal tract), was blaring from huge amplifiers stacked everywhere. In front of him, stretched a mammoth dance floor. It was packed with gyrating bodies, a veritable scene out of some early medieval painting, 'like maybe something out of Heironymous Bosch,' Skinner thought. Although, on closer examination some of the dancers looked more like they'd stepped out of an H. R. Giger painting.

Walter Skinner, wallflower, backed up against a post and stood, dumbstruck. 'Christ all mighty,' he thought stupidly. 'What is this?' The music beat against his skin causing him to break into a sweat. The rhythm started to pound through to his very bones. He vaguely recognized the song from somewhere. The words started to come to him through the screeching electric guitars.

ALL THE TIME I WAS WATCHIN' U'

Skinner gaped in amazement at the crowd and as he stared, it seemed to part slightly and through the smoke and dark tangle of writhing bodes, stepped Agent Fox Mulder. Skinner's shock was all over his face. Mulder was dressed in tight, black, button fly, jeans, a black T-shirt and sunglasses. 'Shit, he looks like a lanky, young Elvis,' Skinner gawked. 'Or maybe a more collegiate James Dean.'

Mulder stalked up to him, moving with a strange, catlike grace. Skinner gaped, thinking, 'he moves like a fucking leopard,' as Mulder loomed into his vision suddenly looking him straight in the eyes. Skinner blinked behind his specs and managed to gulp out, "What in the hell is going on here, Agent Mulder."

Mulder, smiled at him and leaning close to his ear he replied in an odd, liguidy, vibrating voice "Just a little night music, sir." and than, taking off his dark glasses he let Skinner get a good look into his eyes. It must have been the effect of the scotch, or maybe the music because Skinner could swear that Mulder's eyes were glowing like two white hot coals. Mulder chuckled gutturally at Skinner's expression, and breathing hotly against his cheek he asked, "Would you like to dance, Walter?"

Skinner's breath caught in his throat. 'This was really not his scene,' he thought for the briefest second, and than he suddenly realized, in surprise, that, 'hell, yes, he wanted to dance.'

"Sure," was all he replied to the man in black. Mulder, sunglasses once again in place, threw his head back and laughed, and the sound was like a cross between breaking glass and a panther's wail. Mulder grabbed Skinner's hand and dragged him out onto the dance floor.

THE MUSIC ROCKED US

MAKIN' US SEE A TRIPPY PICTURE SHOW

Skinner could hardly believe what was happening. He actually wasn't a bad dancer, even to this type of music. He had a certain grace that very well muscled men sometimes possessed. But nothing he did on the dance floor could compare with Mulder. Skinner had all he could do to keep up with the younger man. He went along for the ride as the dream Mulder lap danced against him in time to the music's bass beat. The sensation of Mulder's hard, taunt body, the smoke, darkness and crushing high decibel sound began to have an unexpected effect on Walter Skinner. He found himself becoming incredibly, erotically aroused. Logically his brain told him this was 'wrong, all wrong,' but another organ all together told him he wanted 'more, much more.'

Mulder, gyrating, backed up against Skinner's chest, sliding along the Assistant Director like a boa constrictor. Skinner held Mulder's hips on either side and drew him even closer as he rubbed up and down his torso. "Oh God." Skinner gasped out as Mulder's ass ground into his genitals. 'God has nothing to do with it, Walter." Mulder laughed crazily as the music pounded and the lights strobed.

IF A MAN IS CONSIDERED GUILTY

4 WHAT GOES ON IN HIS MIND

THEN GIMME THE ELECTRIC CHAIR

4 ALL MY FUTURE CRIMES - OH!

Skinner turned the younger man around in his arms and than, in a daze, he grasped him roughly and kissed him. Mulder's lips parted and Skinner sucked him in as they groped each other, oblivious to everyone else on the dance floor. Suddenly, Mulder was on his knees in front of Skinner and Walter tensed. 'Oh baby,' he sighed, 'I know what's coming next,' he thought, looking down into Mulder's 'sunglasses after dark.' The younger man unzipped Skinner's fly and in one deft flip liberated his erect cock from the confines of his briefs. "Oh, my, Walter, that is impressive," Mulder grunted fingering the tip of Skinner's straining penis. "Shut up, you little shit," Skinner laughed and groaned at the same time. "You cocksucker," he moaned. "Is that a cut or an order, sir?" Mulder asked leering. "You bet it's an order, buddy." Skinner replied and than cried out as Mulder went down on him. The younger man's mouth felt like cold fire.

-End of Part 3-

(Part 4 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

Skinner gripped Mulder's hair in ecstasy as the agent expertly worked him up and down. The beat went on. The pleasure seemed unending along with the lights and the music. Skinner gazed out over the dance floor. With sudden shock he glimpsed someone else dancing over towards them. The crowd parted, once again, to make way.

"What next?" he had time to think incoherently as Dana Scully undulated up to them. Skinner raised his eyebrows as she smiled and stepped forward, straddling Mulder, who was still taking care of business between his legs.

IT TOOK MY MIND OUT LIKE A

G FLAT MAJOR WITH AN E IN THE BASS

Scully was luminous, her red hair aflame. She was dressed in a skin tight black leather skirt and a leather corset which left her mid-drift bare. Skinner caught a glimpse of a navel ring as his eyes wandered down her body. He wanted to see what she had on her feet but, Mulder's head was in the way.

"Spiked heels," Scully answered reading his mind and than tapping Mulder on the shoulder, she asked, "Mind if I cut in?"

"Do you mind, Walter?" Scully asked brushing Mulder aside. The Mulder in black with the shaded, glowing eyes smiled seductively, and backing away, disappeared into the crowd.

I WANTED 2 TOUCH YOUR MOUTH

MY BRAIN IS JACKIN' ALL OVER THE PLACE

'I don't mind.' Skinner replied. 'I have no mind left,' he thought. By now, he was so into the dream he didn't give a shit about much of anything except getting rid of the huge hard on he was sporting.

Scully sized him up and with a really wicked look grasped him tightly by his cock. Skinner yelped as she whispered, "Follow me, Walter."

'Like I have a choice?' he thought, squirming. 'This was one big dog that wasn't going to pull on his leash.'

"Oh really, Walter?" Scully asked, again seeming to read his mind. "We'll see." Scully lead him across the dance floor. Skinner thought he caught a glimpse of Mulder out there, pelvis connected intimately to the ass of a really stunning blond he vaguely recognized. "This way, Walter," Scully said, pulling on him none too gently. She lead him into a dark alcove off to the side somewhere. The music was a little less loud there and Scully turned to face Skinner. "Time for a little private dance lesson, Walter." she breathed, backing up against the wall and pulling him close to her.

SO WE CAN MAKE UP OUR MINDS, LOVE

2 COMMIT THE CRIMES OF PASSION

THAT SETS US FREE

THE ELECTRIC CHAIR

Scully's skin was so hot Skinner's breath was taken away. He placed both his hands on either side of her head and drawing her to him, tongued her violently. She returned his violence in kind, and he released her skull and pressed her more tightly against the wall with his mouth and body. He used his hands to shove her leather skirt up to her waist. Of course, she wasn't wearing any underwear. Skinner thrust his hands between her legs and Scully gasped out "Very nice, Walter, that's a good boy."

Skinner couldn't wait any longer. Shifting, he forced Scully's legs farther apart and guided his penis into her, thrusting deeply until he was inside her up to the hilt. At the moment he entered her every sound in the building stopped dead, time stood still, and his entire concentration was focused on his crotch as Scully pumped against him. He grabbed her ass and using the wall for support, lifted the much shorter woman until her legs wound around his trim hips. Scully was saying something to him and he couldn't physically hear her words, but they pierced his skull nonetheless as he grunted and strained against her. "I told you, I knew you'd pull that leash, stud dog," she groaned. "Fuck me, Walter, fuck me hard." He was only too happy to oblige.

As their bodies pounded together, slick with sweat, Skinner was barely aware that electric coils of glowing energy were arcing and twisting around them. Scully moaned and screamed in pleasure and Skinner urged her and himself on. He was yelling inarticulately, it all made very little sense, but he didn't care, and than he erupted with the most explosive orgasm he'd ever had in his life. As his brain short circuited, the music, smoke and lights came crashing back into his senses, deafening and blinding him all at the same time.

GUILTY 4 ALL MY FUTURE CRIMES

AND IF YA DON'T REALLY LOVE ME

THEN GIMME THE ELECTRIC CHAIR.

"Will this do, instead?" Scully asked Skinner as the lyrics wound their way through his cranium. A second eerie voice growled into his ear than, a voice like broken glass and a panther's wail, "Ever dance with the devil in the pale moon light?" Mulder sneered as Skinner glanced to the right, straining to see through the blur to the gun pointed at his temple. "I always ask that of all my prey. I just like the sound of it." Mulder finished. Skinner could suddenly see his reflection in Mulder's sunglasses.

"What the fuck?" Skinner had just enough time to ask as the gun went off with a thunderous roar.

-End of Part 4-

(Part 5 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

Skinner awoke with a screaming jolt, bucking and kicking on the couch. His flailing arms knocked over the nearly empty, capped liquor bottle and it fell to the floor with a soft thud. His breathing came in heavy, ragged gasps. He was unpleasantly aware that he had shot his wad all over the inside of his briefs. A horrendous hangover headache was thundering in his skull. 'Good God, what had he been dreaming?' he thought, grasping at sounds and images that were rapidly flowing away into his subconscious. 'Had it been the Vietnam dream again?' he wondered.

All at once he knew he was going to vomit, and throwing his head over the side of the couch, he lost almost the entire bottle of scotch onto the plush carpeting. When he'd stopped gagging and gained his composure, he looked up in dismay into the TV screen in front of him. The National Anthem was playing. Skinner fished for the remote and turned the tube off in disgust. Rising from the couch he gingerly walked across the apartment to the kitchen, retrieved a squirt bottle of Resolve as well as a damp rag and returned to clean up his stomach contents before they ruined the rug. It was a long process and afterwards he went to clean himself up.

'Jesus,' he thought, smoothing a hand over his scalp. He was certainly going to take a personal day tomorrow. No doubt about it. Hopefully the hangover would be gone in the morning. 'If only I could remember that dream,' he thought. Obviously, it had been some strange sexual nightmare as evidenced by the fact that he had woken up yelling in fright, and by the briefs he was tossing into the laundry hamper. Well, if there was any better testament to the dangers of drinking Skinner figured he didn't know it. 'Not to mention a testament to being lonely and horny,' Walter thought ruefully. 'Well, we won't go there.' Instead he pulled some pajamas from his dresser, put them on, and went to bed.

The next morning dawned gloriously sunny as predicted by the weatherman. Skinner thanked heaven for the sun and the fact that his hangover was mercifully gone. He had gotten up early and the first thing he did was call in to the office. He took care of changing his entire schedule without too much trouble, for a change. He also put in a call to Agent Mulder. Mulder had a stake-out set up for that evening somewhere in the warehouse district, and he wanted to touch base with him regarding it. Even that conversation had actually been rather painless, Mulder and Scully having everything well in hand. Skinner sighed with relief as he hung up the phone. He'd made himself a light breakfast and taking it, and his morning paper, went out onto the tiny apartment balcony. He sat down in his robe at the wrought iron chairs and table for two that sat to one side. The sun felt wonderful on his neck. Any remnants of last nights weird trip into the 'Twilight Zone' still remaining in his head were soon burned away.

Skinner drove to his athletic club around 9 AM to work-out. He prided himself in the fact that he kept himself in shape. Of course, it was also a good idea to be fit, considering his occupation. He might be stuck behind a desk most of the time, but it wasn't a good idea to let yourself go slack at the FBI. In fact, it could be fatal.

-End of Part 5-

(Part 6 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

By dusk, Walter Skinner was feeling mighty fine. He was relaxed, well exercised and fed and now he was in the mood for a night on the town. He just wanted to get out, drive around, maybe stop at a club and see what turned up. The driving part, as usual, seemed particulary attractive - it was another clear, balmy summer evening.

Skinner preened in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom. He'd probably deck anyone who accused him of it, but the Assitant Director was a bit vain. He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the baby blue t-shirt over his tight, tanned biceps. He flexed one experimentally and the muscle made a satisfying jump. The tailored Armani jacket went on next and shrugging his wide, muscular shoulders he inspected his reflection for the full effect. Almost as an afterthought, he strapped his gun and holster to the back of his belt. "Not too bad for a middle aged pencil pusher" he said with a grunt.

The sports car purred under his foot as he turned the ignition over. He backed out of his assigned apartment parking spot and guided the car up the ramp, through the electronically opened doors, and out into the night.

-End of Part 6-

(Part 7 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

The club was called 'House of Frankenstein.' The name intrigued him right away. He had remembered seeing that old 'B' film as a kid. 'What the fuck, I just have to check this out' - he thought. It was a goth club. Dark, smokey, all black lace, black leather, black eye make-up and pale faces. 'Well,' Skinner thought, 'I can at least get a drink at the bar.' He stuck out like a sore thumb as he pushed through the crowd, but the dark helped and the loud music was so distracting that no one was really paying attention anyway. He sidled up to the bar, and getting the bar tenders attention, barked over the noise "Scotch on the rocks." The bar tender nodded.

"I hope to hell you have an explanation, Agent Mulder." Skinner barked gruffly to cover his confusion and embarrassment. A fleeting phrase crept through his mind, 'Ever dance with the devil in the pale moon light.' Suddenly, he noticed the unobtrusive ear plug and tiny mike on the edge of Mulder's t-shirt collar. "Oh Christ, stake-out,' sprung instantly into his head."

"Well, sir, you're right in the middle of our stake-out." Mulder replied.

"I thought that was in the wearhouse district?" Skinner asked perplexed.

"Well, it was, but she was a no show. On a hunch we came down here. Scully's up there on that catwalk, and Agents Marks and Bennet are at either exit."

"Well, why in heaven's name are you dressed like that?" Skinner growled growing more and more apprehensive and disorientated as the details of the dream from the night before began to leak back into his consciousness.

"Oh, well, like I said, Scully and I figured she might come here tonight. This is practically the only goth club in the area she hasn't hit." Mulder replied. "We dressed a bit 'undercover,' just in case we had to go inside. Lucky we did, because she's in here somewhere, we just haven't been able to spot her yet."

"But the sunglasses?" Skinner swallowed hard. The bartender delivered his drink but he couldn't touch it. He was growing increasingly disorientated. The loud music, confusion, strain from his work week, even the adrenalin of the hunt were combining to push him into some kind of sensory overload. 'God damn it, this isn't like me,' he thought struggling to regain control. Great, just what he needed, Post Traumatic Stress syndrome coming down on him after all these years. But maybe that wasn't it. In the back of his mind he started to realize that maybe there was something very important about that dream from the night before. It suddenly seemed essential that he remember the details in a hurry. He was vaguely aware that Mulder was saying something to him, so he leaned closer to hear over the noise.

-End of Part 7-

(Part 8 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

"Oh, these? They're something I picked up recently, let's just say they're from a friend. State of the art night vision lenses. Besides, they go with the outfit." Mulder smiled slightly at the Assistant Director.

Skinner remembered the case now. It had been that nutcase X-File they had argued about. A serial killer had been stalking the goth club scene for several months. It was an unusual case based on the fact that the killer was a woman, and woman serial killers were rare. As far as anyone had been able to ascertain, she only came out at night, cruised the clubs, picked out her victims, lured them somewhere, drugged them and than over several days drained them of blood. Mulder's take on the case had been that the woman was some sort of honest to God, vampire. Sure, the victims had been drained of blood with all too obvious marks on their necks. But Skinner found the whole idea fairly hard to believe. Apparently the killer was also a switch hitter, taking both men and woman prey. The only break in the case came when her last victim, a woman, had known enough self defense to fight her off and escape. She had given the FBI a good description and that was what they were counting on to apprehend her. Tonight they were looking for a tall, extremely attractive black haired woman named Maria Tepesh, probably an alias. 'But, at least they were about to find her,' Skinner hoped studying the crowd tensely.

Mulder still stood next to him, jaw muscles tensed, also scanning the club's dance floor. The place was packed and the crowd moved practically as one to yet another loud, throbbing goth rock number.

"Where is Agent Scully?" Skinner yelled over at Mulder, "I can't see her."

-End of Part 8-

(Part 9 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

"She's on the left hand side of the catwalk" Mulder replied gesturing slightly with his head. Skinner looked up, and after a moment, caught sight of Mulder's partner looking over the railing. She was dressed in skin tight leather pants and some sort of lacy top and black leather jacket. He thought he caught a glimpse of leather boots as she studied the dance floor.

'Holy shit,' Skinner ogled Dana Scully fleetingly and unprofessionally, 'She looks - hot,' ran through his mind. Than, perplexed he thought, 'but that's not right, she should have on something else, some sort of skirt...' The dream was coming back now, and for Walter Skinner, time seemed to shift all at once. He began to inexplicably disassociate. Skinner was vaguely aware that he had experienced this feeling before, this sense of being disconnected, almost out of his body.

It was like a trance state, and in the trance every detail of the dream flooded back into his mind with crystal, embarrassing, clarity. It played in fast forward until it reached a pause, and allowed Skinner's trance eyes to examine the scene it settled on. He could see the dream Mulder out on the dance floor as the fantasy Scully lead Skinner across it. Mulder danced, intimately connected to a stunning blond who seemed vaguely familiar for some odd reason. At that point, Skinner had tunnel vision and all he saw was Mulder, fucking the blond from behind, in time to the blaring music. Just as he saw Mulder throw his head back and emit that mind numbing howl from the dream, the woman looked up, and she wasn't a blond any longer, she had black hair and there was blood on her mouth.

Skinner plunged back to reality with a jolt. Mulder was looking at him quizzically, "Are you all right, sir, you looked a little far away for a second there - did you spot her?" Mulder asked.

"What? No, shut up for a second, Mulder,' he barked at the younger man. Skinner strained to see onto the crowded dance floor. His eyes jumped from couple to couple and face to face until he found the one he wanted. He gripped Mulder's arm, and leaning close told him, "Mulder, call Agent Scully on that thing and tell her to walk to the other end of the catwalk. Ask her if she can see a tall blond dressed in a skin tight black skirt almost immediately under her. She's dancing with a black man with dreadlocks." he added quickly. Mulder spoke into his neck mike and Skinner could see Scully stride quickly across the cat walk.

"Is it Tepesh?" Mulder asked hopefully.

"Yes, the perp is wearing a wig." Skinner rasped, still agitated from experiencing the trance state.

Confirmation from Scully came over Mulder's ear piece a split second later.

-End of Part 9-

(Part 10 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

"Signal Scully to close in, I'll back you two up. Have Marks and Bennet hold at the exits in case she bolts." Skinner commanded, all business now. "But, Mulder, go quietly, let's try to avoid a scene here," he added. Despite the words he rested his hand on the butt of his gun under his coat as they crossed the dance floor.

As they approached the suspect, Maria Tepesh, Scully was making her way down the catwalk stairway. Maria had her back to Scully and her intended victim's back was to Mulder and Skinner. Skinner reached the dancing couple first and pulling up close to the killer's tall partner he tapped him on the shoulder and asked....

"Mind if I cut in?"

The arrest went off like clockwork and so subtley that Skinner was sure practically noone on the dance floor even knew what was happening. Maria Tepesh, alias Linda Osbourne, may have been a serial killer but she was also a lady, and at the end and went along quietly.

EPILOGUE

Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully sat in Assitant Director Walter Skinner's office Monday afternoon delivering their post arrest report. Skinner had added his notes to the file ommitting a few critical points that he didn't think were relative to the case, and which in the light of a new day he didn't want to fucking think about anyway. The review went well, despite the fact that Mulder had been wrong about the suspect being a real vampire. She was bad enough as a sociopathic, blood drinking, serial killer, without dragging some X-File slant into the picture.

"All, right, thank you both," Skinner finally ended the meeting and closed the file. The two agents got up to leave, and Skinner turned his attention to some other papers on his desk. A polite cough brought his attention away from his desk.

-End of Part 10-

(Part 11 of 11)

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

WARNING: RATED NC-17. And I am serious about the rating. Graphic language and sexual situations.

"What is it Agent Mulder?" he asked.

"There's just one thing I'm confused about regarding this case." Mulder stated, standing by the door.

'What's that?" Skinner replied before he had time to think better of it.

"How did you jump to the conclusion that Linda Osbourne was wearing a blond wig." Mulder asked with real curiosty.

"Yes, well, it was logical that the suspect would try to disguise herself. She would have been stupid not to after having been ID'd"

"Sure, but why not a dye job, or some other color like red? And how come a wig at all....sir?" he pressed on.

"You have my word, sir." Mulder replied expectantly.

"Do you remember when I told you about that out of body experience I had in Vietnam? When I was wounded and left for dead?" Skinner replied.

"Sure, I remember" Mulder said quietly.

"Well, last night in that club - I don't know. Maybe it was the music, the lights, the crowd, or maybe I'm just so stressed out from this fucking job that I'm cracking up. But last night I had some sort of experience that was very similar." Skinner confessed with embarrassment.

"An out of body experience?" Mulder asked, no trace of sarcasm in his voice.

"No, not exactly, it was more like a trance." he tried to clarify the feeling. A trance came pretty close. He decided to skip any mention whatsoever of his hot and heavy prophetic dream, and Mulder and Scully's sexually spectacular parts in it. That whole issue was way too sensitive to even confront. It was bad enough that his palms were sweating and color was rushing into his face at just the memory of it.

"Trances can be brought on by rhythmic movement, sound and light as well as chanting," Mulder explained. "Have you ever seen any film footage of dervishes?" he asked.

"Those men that twirl around?" Skinner asked.

"Right. They use the motion of spinning to attain a transcendental state."

"Well, at any rate, in this trance I saw the Osbourne woman clearly, and based on the witness description realized she was disguised in a blond wig to cover up her true hair color." he finished taking his glasses off and examining them for traces of lint. "It doesn't sound normal does it?" he asked Mulder, not looking up from his hands.

Mulder was silent for a moment. Than he spoke very slowy and cautiously. "How would you define normal, sir?"

"You wouldn't be afraid that someone's going to saddle you with the name "Spooky" now, would you?" Mulder asked smiling back at him.

Skinner's brow furrowed as he put his glasses back on.

"Well, don't let it worry you sir, I live with it every day and look where it's gotten me." Mulder joked.

Skinner looked up at him than and met the other man's eyes without flinching.

"I'll bear that in mind, Agent Mulder, thank-you, you're dismissed."

THE END OF THE WHOLE STORY.