The Antithesis of Vince

by DiAnn



E-mail: scarlet679@hotmail.com

Rating: NC17 - SLASH

Category: Pure Trash /Discipline / m/m Slash

Warning: M/Sk Slash - M/Sk/O Slash

If you don't like this kind of thing, or you are underage, go somewhere else . . . Please! I don't want to hear from you and I don't want to hear from your Mama.

Spoiler: Folix A Deux, Season 5 / First Person Shooter, Season 7

Summary: Someone is killing the good people of Hope, Arkansas. Can a small town sheriff, the FBI, and one sexually perverted vampire solve the case before anyone else has to die?

Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will, own Mulder, Skinner 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.

Special Note: Mulder and Vince have a very long history. If you're interested in why the agent is sometimes less than patient with the gregarious vampire, you can find the rest of the Vampire Series at DiAnn's Discipline Page, Painful X-Periences 15-22, Mulder Torture Anonymous. Sheriff Adams and Mulder have also met before. Their story can found in Painful X-Periences 8 & 10.



Crystal City
Walter Skinner's Apartment

"Are you even listening to me, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder's attention was drawn away from Skinner's endless tirade by a horrific vision. Vince stood grinning at him, making little waving motions with the fingers of his right hand, from right behind Walter's left shoulder. The vampire's wavy blond hair and gorgeous blue eyes gleamed in the lamplight, while his translucent white skin seemed to glow as if lit softly from within. All in all, a very attractive picture, but one that Mulder had hoped to never see again.

"Uh, what did you say, sir?"

"I asked, Agent Mulder, if you were listening to me?"

"Are you glad to see me, Sweet Boy?"

"Why in the hell would I be?"

"Wh. . . wh . . .wh . . .WHAT!"

Mulder's eyes darted back over to see why Walter was making that strange, sputtering sound again.

"You'd best show a little respect, young man. Now, let's just go over this one more time, shall we?" Skinner was now speaking in that peculiar way he had, the words barely escaping from between his tightly gritted teeth. Mulder was never sure how he was able to do that, it looked like it would hurt. "You went into a computer game to rescue those three delusional friends of yours from a virtual-reality wet dream who had already killed two men. Am I correct so far, agent?"

"Yes, sir." Mulder risked a glare over at Vince, who snickered.

"So you laid down a line of gunfire . . ."

"Sub-atomic-laser-blaster fire, sir."

"Of course, my mistake . . . you laid down a line of sub-atomic- laser-blaster fire, and the door opened behind you. Are we still together?"

"Together, sir."

"Good. Now did you: (A), Get you ass out of there like you actually had some working cells in that over-sized brain of yours, or (B), go after this homicidal figment of everyone's imagination like Dirty Harry with a partial lobotomy?"

"Oh-h-h-h," Vince cooed, "Nice choice, sweet boy. (A), you get your butt smacked, or (B), you get your butt smacked. or (D), you tell the big, bald guy to fuck off."

"You forgot (C), asshole, that's where I tell *you* to fuck off."

"Wh . . .wh . . .wh . . .WHAT! Go get my strap, Fox!"

"Huh? But, I'm already injured! That woman . . ."

"I thought you told me that you held your own against her, and that Scully's intervention wasn't really necessary." Skinner held up a hand when Mulder opened his mouth to elucidate. "Save it!. And don't worry too much, the area of your body I plan to address is as yet unscathed. Now go!"

Mulder stomped into the bedroom to retrieve the dreaded strap from the back of the closet door. It hung like a slumbering black snake, waiting patiently for another opportunity to deliver its venomous bite to a tender, exposed bottom. The minute he touched the hated thing Mulder's buttocks twitched in painful remembrance of past encounters.

It was all Skinner could do to suppress a chuckle as a sullen, pouty-lipped Mulder came back into the room, all but dragging the strap behind him like a incorrigible five-year-old.

He watched the younger man flinch as he took the piece of leather away from him, folding it , then snapping it loudly in the air. "Thank you, Fox. Assume the position."

Mulder took one last look into the determined, brown eyes of the man he loved. Seeing nothing there but firm resolve, he gave up all hope of a last-minute reprieve. Lowering both jeans and boxers to his knees, he leaned over the back of the couch, bare bottom high and ideally situated for the calamity that was about to befall its smooth, ivory surface.

He closed his eyes, his butt clenching in dreaded anticipation. The waiting was always the worst. Without warning, the strap cracked across his backside like a burst of flame. Okay, the waiting wasn't the worst! Two more stripes were applied as Mulder gasped for breath. Skinner was not messing around today.

Mulder glared at the grinning vampire who was lying sprawled on the couch beside Mulder's head, his eyes glued to the one-act play being performed right before his eyes. He absently stroked the agent's dark hair as he watched, enthralled.

Skinner applied two more stinging stripes, this time on the top of the agent's bare thighs. "Fox, I don't want you to ever take a chance like that again. Do you understand me?"

"I need your help on a little project, sweet boy."

"Why should I care what you want?" Mulder screamed.

"Wh . . .wh . . .wh . . .WHAT! You'll learn to care, brat!"

The strap was flashing down so quickly now that Mulder couldn't concentrate on what was being said. Neither Walter's incessant ranting about brain-dead FBI agents or Vince's demand for a promise of assistance.

"Please stop! I'll do anything you want!"

"Why thank you, sweet boy. I'll be in touch," and the vampire vanished. Unfortunately, his words of surrender didn't have the same effect on Walter, who continued to ply the stinging leather against the cherry-red backside offered up so obligingly for his attention. Mulder sobbed as he lowered his head back down to the seat of the couch, allowing Skinner to work undisturbed. The big man wouldn't stop until he was ready anyway.



"I see he still knows how to pout."

Mulder glared at Sheriff Roy Adams but did make an effort to pull his bottom lip back in just a bit. It was hard, he really didn't want to be here. He had almost had a coronary when Vince told him where the case was and who was in charge. He'd told the vampire very emphatically that it was a definite *no go*, then Skinner had called him into his office. Adams had phoned and Skinner had asked only *how high* and what poor fool do you want me to bring with me?

"He's fine." Skinner glared a warning to *be fine or else* at his sulking agent. "So tell us what's going on, Roy. Why does Hope, Arkansas need an FBI Assistant Director and its top paranormal profiler?"

"Well *I* needed the Assistant Director because I've missed him."

Mulder snorted in disgust, earning himself a quelling glare from both men this time.

"And we need your boy there because we have a serial killer on our hands."

"Mulder doesn't do that anymore, Roy. Even as a favor I don't think I can allow him to get involved in a serial killer case again. It's too hard on him."

"Why do you and Scully continue to think I'm so fragile? I can do my job!" Mulder slammed his hand down hard on the Sheriff's desk, his eyes spitting green fire at his boss.

Skinner studied his irate subordinate for a long, silent moment, "Agent Mulder you are about to do that job while sporting a very red, sore backside. Is that really how to want to begin this case?"

"No." The lip was back out.

Roy rolled his eyes at the younger man. "As I was saying, we have a serial killer, a very unusual one. Five of the good people of Hope have been killed in the last four weeks. But the strange part is, and this is where your brat comes in, they were all killed by human blood being infused into their bodies. Quarts of it, and sometimes as many as a dozen different blood types, all in the same victim. They swelled up like a tick on a hound dog and just popped."

Mulder made a disgusted face. He was pretty sure that delightful little analogy was going to keep him awake tonight. "What do we know about the victims, Sheriff?"

The agent reached for the five folders that the Sheriff had pulled out of his desk drawer.

"First one was Daniel Lightfoot, Native American male, aged 35, found on the Conner Park jogging trail."

"Heart attack?" Skinner suggested.

"Coroner says not. Man ran ten miles a day, had the heart of a mule. And even a heart attack wouldn't explain the extra blood in his body, Walter."

"Right, sorry. Go on, Roy."

"Next victim was Harold Brighton, white male, aged 52. His wife returned home from grocery shopping to find him sitting on his John Deere in the middle of their newly mown lawn. He was just sitting there on his tractor, stone cold dead. His wife says it was where he would have wanted to be since he loved that tractor more than he loved her."

Skinner's head snapped up. "That doesn't sound like the words of a happy, loving wife, Roy. Is she a suspect?"

"No, at least a dozen people saw her down at the Pigley Wigley that afternoon. Besides, she was right, Harold did love that tractor of his. Next was Jimmy Franks, 17, African-American male. His body was thrown into a dumpster behind the Y.M.C.A. He hadn't come home from school and his mother called it in. A few of his friends said they'd been playing a pick-up basketball game at the park but they thought he'd left to go home. He never made it."

"Must have been hard on the parents." Skinner took the folders that Mulder now handed to him, the younger agent having already memorized the contents.

"Yeah, tell me about it. His mother was near hysterical, said her last words to him had been to *clean up his pig-sty of a room*. Hell, everybody knows how teenage boys are, you gotta' stay on them about stuff like that. She's taking it real hard though."

"Did the boy have any enemies? Anyone been antagonizing him at school lately? Did he use drugs?" Mulder asked.

"No, toxicology came back clean. He was an above average student, a good athlete, never been in any trouble. He was well liked by both his peers and his teachers. Just a normal seventeen year old kid."

Mulder shook his head, eyes sad. Such a waste.

"The following week we found a John Doe, white male, approximately 65 years of age, vagrant. Evidently he'd been living under the old Cedar Street viaduct."

"Anybody claim the body?" Mulder asked.

"No, city had to bury him. The last victim was Mary Stanger, white female, aged 86. She had terrible arthritis, could hardly even tie her own shoes anymore, poor thing, but she insisted on living alone. She liked to take her walker over to the city park, across the street from her house, when the weather was good. Some kids found her body lying by the fountain."

Skinner shook his head, "Different ages, different genders, different races, nothing to tie them together at first glance except that they all lived in the same small town. You've got yourself a real sticky case here, Roy."

"That's why I need your and the kid's help, Walter. This is way out of my area of expertise."

"It's an Antithesis, sweet boy!'

Mulder looked straight at the vampire, who was entertaining himself by snooping around Adams' desk . "And just what the hell would that be, shit head?"

"Fox!" Skinner grabbed his agent by back of the neck, "That was uncalled for! Apologize to Roy!"

"Ugh-oh! I don't think you should have called me a shit head. Sweet boy's in trouble! Sweet boy's in trouble!" Vince chirped in a sing-song voice that set Mulder's hair on edge.

"I just call them like I see them, asshole."

"What did you call me?" Skinner gave his agent a hard shake.

"Go on, sweet boy, tell the nice man what you called me."

"I thought I said it clearly enough the first time. You're an asshole, asshole!"

Roy rose from his chair. "I think we have an empty room in the back, Walt. After you give him a little attitude adjustment, we'll take a drive out to the last crime scene."

Mulder tried to figure out just what he had done to piss off the ever volatile Sheriff as he was swiftly led down a long hallway and into an empty interrogation room.

"You know the drill, Mulder. Topcoat, jacket and tie on the chair." Skinner growled as he began rearranging furniture; pushing aside the heavy table and dragging a straight back, armless chair well into the center of the room.

Mulder had little choice by to comply, glaring holes through the smirking Sheriff. Not sure how the man had convinced Skinner to punish him so soon, but positive it was Adams' fault.

Mulder's mouth went dry as he saw Roy reach for the buckle of his thick, black uniform belt.

"That won't be necessary, Roy. I gave him a good strapping just last night. My hand should be enough to bring his butt back up to brazier temperature with very little effort. Mulder, pants down and over my knee."

Mulder hesitated, licking his lips. He glanced over at the Sheriff, feeling his face flush with humiliation. He looked pleadingly back to Skinner, only to find annoyance and impatience reflected in those dark chocolate eyes. He sighed, resigning himself to his wretched fate, moving over beside his seated boss, letting his trousers and boxers fall to his knees as he lowered himself over the bigger man's waiting lap.

"Ye-haw!" Roy yelled as the agent's shirt was pushed well up on his back to reveal a rosy, welted bottom. "That's one expertly punished butt, Walter. You technique has improved, my boy."

"I've had a lot of practice lately, haven't I, Fox?" Skinner patted the upturned butt affectionately.

"Yes, sir." Mulder pouted as a shudder raced through his body.

"All right, Fox, if I were you I wouldn't do too much yelling unless you want the rest of the Hope Police Force down here to see why Roy and I are torturing a suspect. That would be against policy."

Mulder looked up over his shoulder, eyes wide, "But torturing a subordinate isn't against policy?"

"I'm not torturing you, sweetheart. I'm merely doing you the enormous courtesy of spanking your bottom for you. I'm bestowing upon you the benefit of my years of experience with the bureau by utilizing sound motivational techniques to impart a valuable lesson. Under my guiding hand, you'll become a better, more effective, and much less reckless agent. I believe that's called being a mentor, Fox, not torturing a subordinate."

Mulder thought it was a thin line at best. And then Skinner's hand came down on his bare, sore bottom. By the time the big man's calloused hand had made one complete circuit of his scarlet butt, the line had gotten even thinner in the agent's mind. This was, without a doubt, pure torture!

Mulder kicked, cried and bit down on a wad of his own shirt sleeve as the AD's palm smacked down relentlessly on skin that had bore the brunt of his heavy hand only seconds before. Not an inch of bared bottom or naked thigh was spared. By the time Skinner started on his third round, he had a highly distressed and desperately squirming young man on his hands. Mulder still wasn't making much noise but if the frantic motion of his hips and legs were any indication, the agent was going to experience a very long and uncomfortable ride to the crime scene.

Smack! Smack! Smack! "Don't you ever speak to a fellow officer," Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "like that again!" Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "You are a federal agent," Smack! Smack! Smack! "and will conduct yourself," Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "in a professional manner," Smack! Smack! "at all times!" Smack! Smack! Smack! "Is that clear, Agent Mulder?"

"Ah-h-h-h! Oh yes, yes it's . . .Ouch! . . . clear, sir!"

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "Now apologize to Sheriff Adams." Smack! Smack! Smack!

"Ouch-h-h-h! Oh-Ouch! "I'm sorry, Sheriff. I'm so-o-o sorry!"

"I don't doubt that a bit, kid."

Smack! Smack! Smack! "Now ask the Sheriff," Smack! Smack! "If he wants to take your over his own knee before we leave."

Mulder's head shot up from where it was practically banging on the floor, "Wh . . .what?"

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "You heard me, Mulder." Smack! Smack! "Ask Roy is he wants to spank you himself."

Mulder looked up over his shoulder, tears streaming down his smooth cheeks. "Oh! Ouch! Do you want to sp . . .spank me too? Ah-h-h-h!"

"No, not right now, thanks. I prefer to do my work on a clean slate. Your butt looks like a great big, ol', red-ripe tomato, son. I wouldn't be able to tell where I'd been. What say I catch you another day?"

"Ouch-h-h-h! Thank you, sir! Ah-h-h!"

Skinner winked at the Sheriff as he landed one more hard swat right where Mulder would have to sit. "Okay, that's it, sweetheart. Start pulling yourself together now. We have a crime scene to investigate."

After the Sheriff had produced a tall glass of water and Skinner had helped Mulder put his clothing back to rights, they headed for the car. Anyone would have been hard pressed to guess that the handsome young FBI agent, who strolled so confidently out of the office with the Sheriff, had just spent a miserable fifteen minutes draped over his boss' knee.

"What's all this, Roy?" Skinner indicated the obvious signs of a remodeling in progress that surrounded the building.

"Just what it looks like, Walter, a facelift for the station. Long overdue, too."

When they got to the parking lot, Sheriff Adams opened the back door of the car, indicating that Mulder should scoot over to the far side. When Mulder complied, the Sheriff picked up a two foot square of unfinished plywood that had been thrown aside. He threw it down on the seat beside the astonished agent.

"That there's what we call a blister-board, son. Get your pants down, and plant your bare butt right on that piece of wood. I guarantee you won't soon forget this trip. You'll be one very repentant young man by the time we get to where we're going."

Mulder gave Adams a couple of long, slow blinks before turning his pale face to his direct supervisor. "AD Skinner, sir, I have to protest . . ."

"Do it, Mulder."

The agent glanced around the parking lot but realized that anyone's view into the car would be blocked by the big Sheriff. He yanked down his pants, then moved over so he was sitting squarely on the rough piece of wood. He grimaced as his full weight settled on his sore cheeks which were now firmly planted on the crude wooden seat-cover. The sheriff reached in to pull the agent's topcoat around him, effectively hiding his sad predicament from prying eyes.

"Keep your feet flat on the floor and no squirming. Walter, open the glove compartment and show young Agent Mulder what we have in there."

Walter opened the small door as requested and pulled out a child's toy. One of those wooden paddles with a small rubber ball attached to one side.

"My nephew left that in the squad car the last time I took him on patrol with me. You give me any trouble on this trip, kid, and I'll use that paddle to paint another coat of red on that sore butt of yours. Any questions?"

Mulder shook his head, his throat too dry to form words. He had a vivid vision of himself spread across the hood of the police car, getting his bare butt pounded with that paddle, red ball flying wildly around him, while car after car passed them, each one full of stunned and curious civilians. He shuddered, trying to get the picture out of his mind.

"Good. Now maybe we can all get off to a fresh start and get some work done on this case."

Mulder nodded enthusiastically.



The trip was pure hell for the young agent in the back seat. Every motion of the car creating an agonizing encounter between bare butt and blister board. And the bare butt hadn't scored a point yet.

The rear shocks in the police car were definitely in need of replacement. Every little bump in the road sent Mulder's aching bottom up off the board, only to land a micro-second later with an excruciating smack to the rough, unforgiving wood that awaited its eventual return. And sharp corners, of which Arkansas seemed to have an abundance, were a nightmare. His unprotected butt would slide across the board, only to make the return trip a few moments later, both burning cheeks growing impossibly hotter with every curve.

Mulder thought he might burst into tears if they didn't get to their destination soon. And why was it taking so long? It was a *city* park for heaven's sake. How far out of town did you build a city park?

"Better start pulling up your pants, son, we're there. I hope you enjoyed our drive, I took the scenic route just for you."

Mulder sighed with heartfelt relief as he gingerly moved off the demonic board, pulling his dress slacks up over his throbbing butt. He could see why they called that thing a blister-board. His butt was in much worse shape now than it had been right after his spanking. He also thought he might have picked up a couple of ill- placed splinters. He had little doubt Skinner would quite enjoy the task of removing those later tonight.

Mulder walked slowly around the crime scene, often just standing in one spot and staring at the ground. It wasn't that there was all that much to see really but he was fearful that he would have to ride that damned board back to the station, therefore he was in no great hurry to leave.

"What do you think, sweet boy?"

Mulder recoiled at the sudden arrival of the vampire. "Damn, I wish you wouldn't do that!"

"Do what, Fox?" Skinner called from where he waited with Roy beside the police car.

"Nothing, sir. Just talking to myself."

"Vince, your worthless blood-sucker, you got my ass blistered again."

"Yes, I especially liked that little dance you did when he finally let you up. You know, sweet boy, your adorable bottom turns the most wonderful and unique shade of red. I think I'd call it a rich vermillion. I don't think I've ever mentioned that before."

"How flattering," Mulder hissed. "Now what the hell is an Antithesis?"

"It's an anti-vampire. They put blood in their victims instead of taking it out. We don't associate with them at all. Very lower class."

"Are you telling me that vampires have a class system? Why would they even bother?"

"Fox, are you all right out there?"

"Yeah, yeah!" Mulder yelled back, then thought better of it. "I mean, yes sir, I'm fine, sir."

"Better be nice, sweet boy, or I won't tell you about Rafael."

"Who the hell's Rafael, Vince. I'm running out of patience here."

"He's the Antithesis, the killer, if you will. They're a very rare breed of vampire, thank goodness for that."

"So how does this Antithesis do it? How does he put blood into a body?"

"Well, remember how I sometimes used to steal your blood while you were sleeping? You'd wake up all tired and grumpy, feeling more exhausted than before you went to bed? You'd invariably end up annoying that scary little partner of yours. Then she'd . . ."

Mulder glared daggers at the handsome vampire. "I remember, Vince! Get on with it!"

"Temper-temper, sweet boy. I don't do it any more. Although I do miss you dreadfully. You were so wonderfully delicious. The best I've ever had. I really mean that."

"Vince!"

"I do believe you're losing your cutting edge on charm, sweet boy. You really need to lighten up a little."

Mulder put his hands over his face, "Vince, you have one minute."

"Fox, are you crying out there?"

"No, sir, just thinking. Vince? Last chance!"

"Well Rafael and his ilk, use the same principal. Except they find sleeping vampires and steal our dinner. Dreadful creatures!"

"Hoo-rah!" Mulder shouted, doing a little victory dance. "There is justice in the world after all!"

"Did you find something, Fox?"

"No sir, I just, uh . . .saw a bug. No problem."

"Do you need me to kill it for you?"

Mulder rolled his eyes, "I can handle it, sir. Thanks anyway." The agent shook his head as he turned back, his mouth still hanging slightly open in shock. "I *cannot* believe he said that!"

"I think it's sweet that he wants to protect you. Besides, everyone knows you're afraid of bugs."

"I AM NOT!"

"Does the name Greg Pincus ring a bell? Hum-m-m? You would have shot him with that dreadful gun of yours if not for the quick intervention of Mr. Skinner, and all because the man had one little character flaw."

"Character flaw? That man was a fiend! A blight on society!"

"Sweet boy, tele-marketing is a perfectly respectable profession. I know they aren't always held in the highest regard but I hardly think it warrants . . ."

"I'm not talking about his career path, you blood-sucking moron! He was a heinous monster who sucked the life out of people and turned them into zombies!"

"Well, there was that I suppose."

"Jeez!"

"You've developed a very unattractive mean streak, sweet boy. You really need to work through that, find your inner ass-kisser. Now where was I? Oh yes, as I was saying, the Antithesis deposits the stolen blood into a live human and poof, dead body. Call in the genius profiler!"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do they do it, Vince, why would they deposit blood? What's in it for them?"

"How should I know, sweet boy? You're the psychologist! I was just a pickpocket before I was well . . .you know . . .bitten. Of course, I was a very good pickpocket, but still it would hardly qualify me as an expert on abnormal behavior, now would it?"

"A pickpocket! A common thief? Now why doesn't that surprise me? This is just great! I have no motive, no believable source for the infused blood, and no way Sheriff Short-Fuse over there is ever going to believe a word I'm saying."

"Well, you could just catch Rafael in the act, I suppose."

"And how the hell am I going to do that?"

"Well Antithesis have one tiny, itsy-bitsy, little sexual kink."

"Oh please, no! Don't tell me they're into spanking, too."

"I said a sexual *kink*, sweet boy, not a normal preference for highly intelligent, well-adjusted individuals. I'm talking perverted here."

"Fox, we need to be going. It's starting to get dark. Is the bug still out there with you?"

"Jeez!" Mulder looked over his shoulder to where the AD had moved a few steps away from the car. "No, sir, it's gone. Just another minute, sir." Mulder turned back to resume his whispered conversation with the vampire. "So unlike your perfectly normal *preference*, they're just *sick*. How very broad-minded of you. So tell me Vince, what do these people like that is so repulsive to your tender sensibilities?"

"It's really gross, are you sure you're ready to hear this?"

"Vince, you're pushing it here."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't to warn you. They can't resist really sweaty, smelly, dirty gym socks."

"WHAT? You're kidding, right?"

"I swear on my favorite blood bank, they get so turned on by dirty socks that they just can't control themselves. These are some very depraved individuals, sweet boy."

"Unlike you."

"Of course."

"So how do we kill him? Wooden stake through the heart, garlic, crosses?"

This time it was Vince who rolled his eyes. "Mulder -Mulder - Mulder, my sweet-sweet boy, you just have to stop watching all those horrid B-movies on late night TV. First of all, you would have to use something made out of metal, not wood, and you have to drive it in here," Vince pointed the middle of his chest. "Right through their lungs."

"What kind of metal?"

"How should I know! Any kind of metal! Improvise, genius! And as for garlic, they love the smell. And crosses? Phew! Old wives tale for all of us, although you won't find any respectable vampire wearing one. So last century! We're much more into moon rock now or . . ."

"Vince! Focus!"

"Very cranky, sweet boy! You really need to work on that attitude. Looks don't last forever, Fox, no matter how beautiful you might be at the moment. In your later years you're going to need a pleasing personality to fall back on. Or at least one that isn't quite so caustic. I mean I know we can't expect miracles here but with just a little effort on your part. . ."

"What the hell are you babbling about now? Never mind! I think I've come up with a plan. All I need to do is go jogging. Lure the Antithesis to me. That is if I can get out from under the thumbs of the gruesome twosome over there long enough to give it a try."

"Oh your socks would never do, sweet boy. They have to be really rank, grimy, sweaty, horrible socks. You just don't have it in you, you fragrant little rose petal you."

"Stop that!"

"Think about the victims, profiler. A man who ran ten miles a day, probably just grabbed the same outfit every morning and threw it on. You know the type. A middle aged man who had just finished mowing his yard. Doesn't take much imagination to see that one coming. A seventeen year old kid who probably hadn't changed his socks since junior high, no matter how much his mother nagged him. A vagrant who'd only owned the same pair of socks since 1983, and an elderly woman who was so crippled she couldn't reach her feet to change her socks. Poor dear."

"So how do I catch him? What do I use as bait?"

"Well, I do know of one man who would be perfect. Suffers from a chronic foot disorder which causes excessive perspiration. Very hard for him to control the odor. Rafael would think he'd died and gone to heaven once he got a good whiff of that one."

"Who is he? Will he help us?"

"No, he's not the type to cooperate willingly. We'll have to think of another way to get him to the crime scene."

"I know, I'll use my lock-pick while this guy isn't home and steal a pair of his dirty socks?"

"Fox, did I hear you say *lock-pick*?"

"No, sir. I said rock stick. It's hard to see the ground here for all the rocks and sticks, sir."

"Do you need to get out of the sun for awhile, kid?" Roy inquired, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I'm fine, sheriff. I just need another minute or two."

"No, my brilliant little sweet boy, even Rafael prefers his socks with a real, live person in them. Although it wouldn't surprise me to find out he gets more action form his own right hand than from . . ."

"Vin-ce!"

"Anyway, we need to take this man, with his socks, out to an isolated spot and wait for the Antithesis to show up. That's the only way."

"I can't kidnap anyone," Mulder hissed. "I'm almost certain it's against bureau policy. Why can't I wear the socks myself."

Vince snorted, "You're *almost* certain? You're not sure? No wonder you spend so much time studying the carpet in your Mr. Skinner's office so up close and personal. And since when did you care about bureau policy anyway? Besides, if you try to use yourself as bait, I'll tell Agent Scully on you."

"You wouldn't!" Mulder gasped, outraged that even Vince could sink so low.

"In a heartbeat," Vince snapped his fingers in Mulder's face. "So unless you want to be explaining to the lovely red-head why you put your life in danger yet again . . ."

"All right, all ready! Jeez, start with the big guns why don't you? So where do I find this guy and how do I get him to go with me?"

"With *us*. You just let me handle everything, sweet boy."

Mulder put his head in his hands, "I'm doomed!"

"You're not crying again are you, Fox?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is that bug back?"



"Where did you say we were going again?"

Mulder glanced nervously over at the big Sheriff who filled up the entire passenger side of his rental car. "Uh, I need to show you something, Sheriff. There's uh, nothing to worry about, sir."

"That so?" Sheriff Adams reached down and calmly unbuckled his belt, pulled the leather through his pant loops, carefully folded it into a big, loose loop, and then laid it gently across his lap.

"Wh . . .why did you d . . .do that?"

"Just sending a message, kid. Nothing to worry about. Keep driving."

Mulder swallowed hard, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.

"Sure there isn't anything you want to tell me, son?"

"Uh . . .uh . . .uh . . ."

"It'd be a damn shame for a pretty boy like you to have to spend some time bent bare butt up over the trunk of his own car. Bet that'd be real embarrassing, yes sir-ree. You feeling talkative yet, kid?"

"Uh . . .uh . . .uh . . ."

"Course then I'd have to tell Walter what happened. He'd probably have a thing or two to say on the subject himself. How long a drive is it back to D.C. from here? I'd think a fella's bare backside would be mighty sore after ridin' a piece of lumber for that long of a distance. You can start talking anytime now, kid."

"Uh . . .uh . . .uh . . ."

"I knew this boy once, pretty thing, just like you. Had a bossy boyfriend a few years older than himself, just like you, too. As I recall the story, he upset this boyfriend while they were on vacation out west somewhere. He had to ride all the way from Colorado, I think it was, on a blister board just like the one I gave Walter. I heard tell that by the time they got back, his friend had to carry him into the house. Kid couldn't walk for a week or better. Course that could all be avoided for you by just telling me whatever it is that you're . . ."

"IT'S AN ANTITHESIS! LIKE AN ANTI-VAMPIRE AND IT STEALS BLOOD FROM OTHER VAMPIRES AND THEN PUTS IT IN HUMANS AND THEY DIE BUT I FOUND OUT THEY'RE TURNED ON BY SOCKS AND I'M GOING TO CATCH HIM!!!!!!"

"Good grief, son, calm down before you have a stroke or something. Trust me, I *do not* want to be the one taking your dead body back to Walter. I just can't see that ending at all well for the messenger. So, an anti-vampire you say?"

Mulder looked over, his eyes wide with shock. "You believe me?"

"Of course I believe you. Why wouldn't I believe you? You're a real smart kid. A pain in the ass most of the time, but still a real smart kid. So how do we catch this thing?"

"Uh, with dirty socks . . .sir. It's uh . . .a sexual thing."

"You don't say? There's just no accounting for what flips some peoples' triggers. I arrested this guy once down in Portsmith, he was breaking into the homes of attractive, single women and violating their eggbeaters. He would . . ."

"Ew-w-w-w!"

"Now don't be judgmental, son, it takes all kinds. What time is Walter meeting us?"

"Uh . . .uh . . .uh . . ."

"You did say Walter was meeting us out here, didn't you?"

"Uh . . .uh . . .uh . . ."

"Mulder, tell me about Walter?"

"Ditched."

"Shit!"



"We're going to do what?"

"We're going to jog down this trail for a while." Mulder said as he looped a second string of garlic around the sheriff's neck. Then he picked up his backpack slinging it across his own shoulders.

"I hate jogging. What's in the backpack, son?"

"Oh the usual, bottled water, sun screen, more garlic, a big metal screwdriver, a couple of crosses. I don't care what Vince says, there's always crosses in the vampire stories. How can it be coincidence when it seems so contrived?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Never mind, no one ever wants to answer that one."

"Why a screwdriver, kid?"

"To kill the Antithesis. I have to get real close, then run something made out of metal right through its chest. I thought that screwdriver would be just the thing. I just hope that big, bad-assed construction worker doesn't miss it before I get it back to the station."

"You stole Big Ernie's favorite screwdriver? Walter's right about you, kid, you do have more balls than brains."

"Well I needed it more than he did? Vince was very specific about what it would take to. . ."

"And just where is this Vince person. When do I get to meet him?"

"Never if you're lucky. I didn't tell him we were coming out here today. In fact, I told him it was all set for tomorrow. He would have just run off at the first sign of danger, he does it every time. I figured why bother with him at all."

"And you say this Vince is an actual vampire? Why does he run away when there's trouble?"

"The sight of blood makes him nauseous. It has that effect on all the vampires."

"I'll remind you that I'm not a man to be toyed with, Agent Mulder."

"I'm serious! Vampires aren't at all what they're cracked up to be. You can trust me on that one."

"That screwdriver through the chest thing will never work you know."

"Why do you say that. Vince said . . ."

"Doesn't matter what your friend said. The plan is faulty. For one thing, you'll never get that close to the thing, and secondly, if it is a vampire, then its lived for hundreds of years. That screwdriver is made of high-carbon, stainless steel. Now I'd think a creature as old as this one might well be allergic to iron or even bronze, but stainless steel? I just don't think it will work, son. And besides, if Walter finds out you got that close to this thing, he'll kill you himself."

"I'd listen to the man, Agent Mulder." Mulder's head snapped around to find himself looking straight into the perturbed eyes of Assistant Director Walter Skinner.

"Uh . . .uh . . .uh . . ."

"Walter, you need to do something about the vocabulary skills of your agents. He's been doing that all day."

"It's a trick, Roy. Never doubt that this one can be especially glib of tongue when it suits his own purposes. Now, Agent Mulder, I believe it's time for you to answer a few questions. Why do you want Roy to jog with you?"

"I need him all sweaty so we can catch the vampire, sir."

Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, desperately fighting down the desire to sob. After a few long moments of complete silence, Skinner looked up again to see Roy laughing behind his hand while Mulder, bless him, was standing there giving his boss his famous wide-eyed, trembling-lip, *how could you doubt me* face. Shit!

"All right, Agent Mulder. Start over and go slowly so the rest of the class can catch up."

"An Antithesis has been killing those people here, sir. Vince told me it's like an anti-vampire and . . ."

"Vince! How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from that man? I swear, Fox, if . . ."

"But, sir." Mulder interrupted. "Without Vince I would never have known about Rafael. Vince has been instrumental in identifying the UNSUB. I assure you, sir, I find it as hard to believe as you do but in this case, Vince has been invaluable."

"So who is this Rafael?"

"He's the Antithesis. But thanks to Vince, I now know his fatal weakness. He's sexually attracted to smelly gym socks. So I figured if I brought Sheriff Adams out here and got him all hot and sweaty, Rafael wouldn't be able to resist the bait."

"Are you saying what I think you are, boy?"

"According to my sources, you suffer from overactive sweat glands in your feet, sheriff. That would be like an aphrodisiac to an Antithesis. The ultimate come-on."

"Well I know another way to work up a good sweat," the Sheriff grumbled reaching for his belt buckle as Mulder took a step back, eyes widening impossibly further.

"Just a minute, Roy. I know it sounds unfeasible but if Mulder thinks this thing, this Antithesis, is responsible for these murders, then we need to take him seriously."

"But, Walter," Roy whined.

"I know. Believe me, I know. But I'm telling you, Agent Mulder is seldom wrong about these things. I don't claim to know how he does it but I've learned from bitter experience to follow his lead in these instances. Even when it makes my head hurt."

Roy ran an exasperated hand over his face. "So we jog?"

"Afraid so, Roy."

Skinner turned to study his agent for a long moment. The man was dressed in well-worn gray sweats, the material so thin and soft that it hugged his body in all the right places. It was a very appealing sight. He then looked down, with a dismal sigh, at his own heavy jeans and hiking boots. He noticed Roy wasn't much better off in his police uniform. Those shoes weren't made for running either.

"All right, Mulder, we do it your way, at least for a while. You take the lead, if I'm going to have to run while wearing boots I'm at least going to have something good to look at while I'm doing it."

The younger agent cocked his head to the side, looking confused by his boss' statement but evidently deciding not to pursue it further. He shrugged, turned, and took off down the trail at an easy, steady pace. Skinner smiled as Roy rolled his eyes.

After a few minutes Mulder felt his muscles begin to warm, his feet falling into cadence with his breathing. It was beautiful country, green and sun dappled. Mulder took a deep cleansing breath, forgetting for just a moment that he was being trailed by two less-than-happy neanderthals and a deadly anti-vampire.

"Well, I'll admit one thing, that boy has one hell of an ass on him?" Roy huffed from behind the AD.

"Yeah, that he does." Skinner grinned as he watched the rhythmical play of taut, well-toned muscles under soft gray flannel.

"You know there are other more enjoyable ways to build up a good sweat."

"What are you suggesting, Roy?"

"As if you aren't thinking the same thing. There's a clearing up ahead, won't be anyone around this time of day. What say we show that boy how to really have a good time in the forest?"

"It'll mean trouble. You know he's jealous of you, Roy."

"Yeah, ain't it grand? It's been probably twenty years or better since anything that pretty felt threatened by me. He does wonders for my ego."

"Does wonders for mine, too. All right, but let me get him in the mood first."

Mulder raised his head, looking up through the lush green leaves to see the clear, cerulean blue sky. It was so relaxing here, so serene, so . . . "Umph!"

Mulder landed face first on the hard ground, a tremendous weight on his back pinning him flat, his lungs all but collapsed in his chest.

"Smooth, Walter, very macho. Tell me, when did you first discover that the fastest way to a man's heart was with a good, back-breaking tackle? You need to seriously rethink your idea of romantic foreplay, my friend."

Skinner rolled over bringing his gasping agent up with him. Mulder drew in a huge, wheezing breath, choking on the clean, life-sustaining air before falling back bonelessly into Skinner's waiting arms.

"I yelled at him three times, he wouldn't stop. He'll be fine." While he waited for the color to come back into Mulder's dirt covered face, Skinner gently pushed wayward bangs away from his forehead and picked dead leaves out of the thick, dark hair. When it looked like Mulder might actually survive the unexpected attack, the AD swooped down to fasten his lips firmly on those of his gorgeous, dazed agent.

Mulder gasped once in surprise, then melted into that oh so familiar hot, wet, wonderful mouth.

Roy chuckled, "So okay, maybe it does work after all."

Skinner began to frantically pull at Mulder's clothing, the younger man was still too out of it to do more than lay panting and compliant in his arms. When the agent was completely naked, Walter looked down with a self-satisfied smile spread across his handsome face.

"Beautiful," He whispered, running a hand over the smooth, golden skin that now lay exposed for his pleasure.

"Can't argue with that, Walter. Raise up a little so I can unzip your jeans. I need to have some fun, too."

The Sheriff ran his hands up under Walter's shirt, thrilling to the touch of the warm, hard-muscled skin. He pulled Skinner's jeans down to just below his round, tight ass. It wouldn't do to disrobe the AD too much when there might be danger afoot. And certainly not in such a public place.

Roy looked over one broad shoulder to where Mulder lay, gloriously naked, and withering under Walter's knowing hands. He chuckled once more. That rule didn't apply to the pretty boys, never had, never would. You always stripped them naked, no matter where you were, and if you were smart, you kept them that way. It was hard to get into trouble when you didn't have a stitch on. Of course, in Mulder's case, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference.

The Sheriff lowered his head, running a line of small kisses along Walter's back and down this buttocks. He heard the big man moan in pleasure. Walter was so responsive, just like old times. He ran his tongue down the deep crevice that separated the two glorious cheeks of the AD's ass and found the tight little opening he sought. He let his mouth linger there, lapping at the tight ring of muscle and rejoicing in the reaction he was getting for his efforts.

Suddenly Skinner let out a roar, that earned him a wide-eyed, hazel stare. He pulled Mulder's backside up onto his lap, then carefully buried his straining cock deep inside his beautiful agent.

Mulder bit down on that gorgeous lower lip, hissing with pleasure. He then made the fatal mistake of running his tongue slowly over the just bitten area. It gleamed seductively in the filtered sunlight coming through the dense foliage above them. Walter watched, mesmerized, as a shimmering, wet trail was left on the plump expanse of red, kiss-swollen lips.

He got a second wide-eyed stare as he let out yet another roar and began to pound his agent into the bed of soft, dried leaves on the forest floor. In the mean time, Roy was demonstrating that he firmly believed that idle hands were the devil's playthings. And that went for mouths, too.

Skinner felt like he was about to come apart at the seams, and then he felt the huge erection that nudged at his most secret opening. He bent forward over Mulder, pushing the agent's legs tight up against his chest, allowing Roy all the room he might need.

Skinner moaned loudly. He had forgotten just how delightful it was to be in the middle of two such attractive men. He groaned once more, this time gaining Mulder's full attention. The agent scowled as he looked over Skinner's shoulder to see Roy hard at work. Ugh-oh! Walter leaned down, claiming that magnificent bottom lip in another hot, wet kiss, and completely distracting his pretty lover from all thoughts of the interloper on the other side.

Through a haze of pleasure, Mulder became aware of a sound that didn't belong. A crackle of leaves off to their right. Someone else was here. He tried pushing at the big man who had him pinned, in more ways than one, but the AD seemed completely impervious to anything but his determination to pound Mulder several inches into the ground.

"Walter," he hissed. "Stop! There's someone . . ."

Suddenly Walter Skinner was ripped from his arms. Mulder scrambled to his feet, launching himself at the tall, dark shape that was attacking the AD. Where the hell was the Sheriff? The agent landed hard on the creature's back, causing the beast to stumble, and lose his hold on Skinner.

Rafael reached behind him with one massive hand and plucked the pesky, little mortal from his back. He held Mulder up by the scruff of the neck, the agent resembling nothing more than a spitting, hissing cat about to be dropped like a rock to the bottom of the river.

The vampire sniffed his captive once, cocked his head a little as if seriously contemplating the furious young man he so effortlessly held in one hand. "You're a pretty little thing, but you don't smell good."

With one flick of his wrist, the vampire sent Mulder's nude body flying through the air. The agent landed with a resounding crack against the trunk of a large tree before sliding senselessly to the ground.

Skinner let out a roar of rage. "You hurt him!"

"You don't interest me either, big man." As Skinner charged the vampire, it moved with lighting speed, coming up behind the AD and felling him with one horrific blow to the back of the head. Walter fell to the ground, as unconscious as his precious agent.

Sheriff Roy Adams sat eyeing the huge vampire. It was strong and fast, no doubt about that. Now to see just how smart it was. The creature turned his dark, evil eyes on Roy.

"Now you, on the other hand, are just my type. Those socks you're wearing," the vampire panted with unbridled lust, "So fragrant, so aromatic, so alluring in their wanton repulsiveness. You were meant to be mine! I must have you, my beloved."

"I got lots more socks where these came from, bubba. It sure looks like I'm yers fer the takin', socks and all. Sure ain't nothing stoppin' ya', now is there?"

"Ah, that magnificently sweet voice. So eloquent, so refined, like the most melodious of chamber music to my famished ears. You are everything I've ever wanted, my darling, and more. So very much more! Mine! All mine!"

"Sure thing, bubba. Why don'cha just come on over here and sit a spell. I'll even take my shoes off fer ya'."

The vampire shivered with passion. He held out his arms in a utopian gesture of pure joy, and bolted for the man of his dreams.

Roy waited until the deadly Antithesis was almost upon him before pulling the large screwdriver from Mulder's abandoned backpack. Without hesitation he drove it through the chest of the unsuspecting vampire. The creature let out a blood-curdling scream as it began to shrivel, his body contorting in a horrific dance of death.

"Why?" The Antitheses whispered with its last, dying breath. "Why did you kill me? I loved you!"

"You only loved me for my socks. It wasn't enough. You'd have left me for the first pair of smelly sneakers that came along."

And the anti-vampire turned back into the dust from which it had sprung.

Roy struggled to his feet, stumbling over to where Skinner was just beginning to wake up. "You okay, Walter?"

"Yeah, what happened anyway?" Skinner eyes snapped wide, panicked, as he sat straight up. "Where's Mulder?"

Roy crawled over to where Mulder still lay unconscious at the base of the huge tree. "He's fine, got a bump on the head is all."

"What happened to that . . .thing?"

Roy looked away, a deep flush burning his cheeks.

"Roy?"

"I put that damned, blasted screwdriver though its chest and the thing melted. Just like the kid said it would. Don't it just fry your shorts?"

"No, I'm used to it. Mulder's almost always right. Let's see if we can get him up and moving enough to get out of these God- forsaken woods. Now I see why Scully refuses any case that's within a twenty-five mile radius of a major forest."

The trip back to the car was slow for the wounded heros. Mulder woke once to ask why he was naked when everyone else was dressed but passed out again before he got his answer. Roy lost patience with the younger man at that point, and threw the agent's limp body over one broad shoulder. Skinner started to protest, but changed his mind when he received a deadly look from the peeved sheriff. It was obvious the older man was working on his last nerve.

When they found the car again, the two big men stowed Mulder in the back seat and gratefully headed for home.



"Get out of the car!"

"No! I'm not staying here! I want to go home!"

Skinner let his head fall back so he was looking up at the twilight sky, the stars just beginning to blink into view above him. He closed his eyes tiredly. They had finally made it back to Roy's cabin, sore, exhausted and hungry, and now Mulder wouldn't get out of the damned car.

Mulder, from the relative safety of his back-seat haven, watched horror-struck as the Sheriff calmly walked over to a tree in his yard and cut off one of the branches. He had been around Adams enough times to know exactly what that meant.

Sheriff Adams walked up to the other side of the car, looked in the back window and brandished his switch without saying a word.

Mulder scrambled from the car, whipped past Skinner and was in the cabin before the AD even knew what was happening. He looked over at his former marine commander in utter shock.

Roy shrugged, "Town Council made me take a seminar on motivating subordinates."

"Oh. Must have been a good one."

Skinner entered the cabin, looking around for his wayward agent. Mulder was huddled back in a far corner, eyes wide and fearful.

"Good choice, Fox, but you're facing the wrong way. Get you nose in the corner."

"But . . ."

"Did you really think I'd forget that you ditched me?"

"But I didn't . . ."

Sheriff Adams walked up behind Skinner, dropped his chin an inch or two and leveled his gaze on the argumentative agent. Mulder immediately turned and buried his nose in the corner.

"How do you do that?"

Roy tapped his lower lip, "It's all in the way you hold your mouth."

"Yeah, right."

"And the fact that he knows I'm not so smitten with him that I won't blister his butt and enjoy every minute of it helps, too."

"Fox, stay in the corner while Roy and I get dinner ready. I'll wait until bedtime to blister your bottom for you. That way you can have a good meal first."

"You're just lucky, sweet boy, that I'm not the one dishing out the spanking tonight. Your pretty bottom wouldn't just be warm, it'd be HOT, HOT, HOT!"

"Why don't you just give it a rest, jerk-wad! I've told you before, you don't scare me!"

"Wh . . .wh . . .wh . . .WHAT! Skinner took a deep, calming breath. "Fox, I know you're had a hard day so I'm going to overlook that remark this one time."

"You ditched me, sweet boy, but I've decided to be the bigger man and forgive you."

"Don't do me any favors, asshole."

"Wh . . .wh . . .wh . . .WHAT! Skinner's face had turned an unhealthy shade of purple. "If nothing else, I consider myself to be a fair man, Fox, but . . ."

"I wanted to help you catch the Antithesis. It wasn't fair, sweet boy!"

"Fair my ass!"

"Wh . . .wh . . .wh . . .WHAT!

Skinner reached over and easily plucked his defiant lover out of the corner, heading for the big couch in the middle of the room.

"Hey, I thought you said you were going to wait until bedtime!" Mulder protested, trying to buy some time.

Skinner plopped down on the couch, pulling Mulder easily over his knees.

"You asked for this, Fox, I hope you enjoy it!"

"I only think you enjoy hurting my feelings, sweet boy. And after all the times you've asked for my help!"

"Actually, I enjoy the hell out of it! And the only thing I ever remember asking you for was to not be so damned stupid!"

"Wh . . .wh . . .wh . . .WHAT!

"Ah-h-h-h! Oh! Ouch-h-h-h-h! Walter, Ouch! What are you doing? Please, not so hard!"

Skinner hand flashed down like heat lightning on the upturned bottom over his lap. "Enjoy it, do you?" Smack! Smack! Smack! "We'll just see," Smack! Smack! Smack! "About," Smack! "that!" Smack! "Let's see," Smack! "how long it takes," Smack! Smack! "for you to ASK," Smack! Smack! "me to stop," Smack! Smack! "spanking your backside, shall we!"

"What are you talking about, sir? Ouch! Ah! Please! Stop!"

"Don't you play dumb with me," Smack! Smack! Smack! "you know exactly," Smack! Smack! Smack! "what I'm talking about," Smack! Smack! Smack! "you smart mouthed, little shit!" Smack! Smack! Smack!

"What's going on in here? I thought you were going to wait until after dinner to do that, Walter."

"Change of plan, Roy," Smack! Smack! Smack! "I'm not concerned about him eating anymore," Smack! Smack! Smack! "He's going to eat," Smack! Smack! "because I tell him to eat." Smack! Smack! Smack! "Isn't that right, brat?"

"Yes, sir! Ye-Ouch! Whatever . . .Oh-h-h-h! . . .you say, sir!"

Mulder looked up over his shoulder, wincing at the flaming color of his backside and Skinner hadn't even been spanking him more than a minute or two.

Smack! Smack! Smack! "I hope you're learning you lesson this time, Fox!"

"You shouldn't have ditched me, sweet boy, I could have taught you so much."

"Like I could ever learn anything from the likes of you!"

"Wh . . .wh . . .wh . . .WHAT!

The End