The Sisterhood

Prologue

The rickety wooden stairs clattered under their feet as the seven girls ran giggling down into the hidden heart of the house. Underneath the laughter, Alison felt her heart pumping fast, the blood racing through her veins as they came to stop in front of an immense iron door. Built into a stone wall, it stood thick and dark and silent. As the lead girl drew a bronze key out from under her blouse, the metal still warm from being nestled between her breasts, Alison drew a deep breath, and expelled it slowly, stepping into the center of the group without needing to be directed. The others fell into formation around her, two in front, one holding the key in her right hand, two beside her, two behind.

Six voices rose in a wordless hum, rising and falling in seamless harmony as the key was fitted into the lock. It turned silently, allowing the heavy bolt to swing loose on its hinges; yet even so, the combined strength of the two young women was needed to lift and swing the iron bar aside. The door itself slid open without a sound, causing no more disturbance than a brush of cold air. The space beyond was black and empty. As Alison stepped blindly through the threshold, she felt the light being sucked out past her on the cold wind, stealing with it the very breath from her lungs. Seconds later, the door flowed shut behind her, squeezing out the very last bit of light, leaving her standing in total darkness.

Guided only by the continuous soft-voiced humming of her six companions, she took several faltering steps into the room, then came to halt. The voices stopped in a sudden withdrawal of sound, leaving her with only the noise of her lungs taking air, the beating of her heart in her chest, for company for a few endlessly long moments. The spell was broken by the brush of hands against her shoulders and arms, leading her forward even deeper.

A few more steps, and then she felt their hands pulling her sweater off her shoulders and down her arms, light fingers brushing her chest and stomach as they undid the buttons of her shirt. The remainder of her clothes followed, leaving her standing naked and shivering in the icy air. More unseen movements in the dark around her, then she was again led forward by hands grasped tightly around her upper arms. Another few stumbling steps, and she was pulled to a halt and pushed to her knees, stifling a slight cry as her bare knees struck hard stone.

Her hands were bound behind her back, thick strands of material wound across her wrists and through her fingers. Pushed forward, her body bent at the waist until her forehead was resting against a velvet-covered solid support, her long blond hair let loose from its ponytail to swirl around her face and shoulders. Her legs were pulled wide from behind, the ankles secured with more soft, but heavy fibers. Then the hands holding her released, the only barely sensed presences around her drifting further away.

Alison stayed still and quivering, bound to the floor, for what seemed an eternity, sensitive to the slightest movement around her in the darkness, currents of air sending rivers of goose bumps across her flesh. Then her ears were teased by the slow building of the same chant, though this time it rose higher and faster, seeming to spin around her in circles. The six intertwined voices rose to a crescendo, then crashed and began again, each time increasing in intensity and volume, until they hit a single high note. At that very same instant, Alison gave voice to a single cry as a sudden pain lanced across the back of her neck. As the mixed cries echoed and died, the first strike was followed by two others, one across the exposed and pinioned palm of her right hand, a third across the sole of her left foot.

As the bound girl quivered, her jaw knitted tight to stifle an instinctive sob, a single, musical voice began to speak. "Hear, oh spirits of the night. Hear oh spirits of the dark. Listen to the voices of your daughters raised in song, raised in worship, raised in tribute. Tonight we offer you another who would be your servant. By the blood she has willingly shed, we offer you her bond; give us a sign by which we shall know your design."

Silence fell again and stretched, not even a single gasp of breath disturbing the air. Then, abruptly a gust of ice cold wind blew across the room, followed by a flood of hot and sticky humidity. Still tied to the floor, Alison felt a cry escape her lips as she felt a fiery touch stream across her skin, then seem to reach through her. But, twisting against her bonds, she was unable to break free of that burning touch as it filled her, tightening on her lungs, interrupting the beat of her heart, making the blood bubble and burn in her veins. Not even a cry could escape her lips, as it possessed her, sending her awareness tumbling down into a deep and silent pit. Her mind curled tight into a small ball, she no longer heard anything, even the cries of the other girls, or the thuds of six bodies as they collapsed into awkward piles on the stone floor...

...Or the soft trickle of sound that came from her own lips, filling the chamber with a sweet echo of mirth.

Houston International Airport

Michelle Genero checked her watch again, then eyed the departure aisle anxiously. Automatically tucking a thin strand of straight blond hair behind her ear, she paced back and forth, ignoring the annoyed glances of the people brushing past her towards the baggage claims. The crowd thickened, then thinned, but still no sign of the two people she was hoping to see. Sighing, she walked up towards the security gate, peering down the long hallway towards the gates in frustration.

Her eyes caught by a bright flash of red hair, her heart leapt in relief. Finally she could see the small figure of a red- haired woman striding confidently down the aisle, gesturing widely as she spoke to the tall, slender dark haired man loping along beside her. He seemed hardly aware of his companion, his eyes darting around, absorbing every sight and sound of the chaotic airport.

"Mulder, Dana!" Michelle waved her hand at them, feeling an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu. Seeing them again created a whirlwind of emotions, relief mixing with worry, fear with hope. They had once before saved a person she loved; now she could only hope they could do so again.

Mulder reacted to her with a nod of his head, reaching out to touch his partner's arm and point towards the tall, slender woman waiting for them. Scully looked up, and smiled in welcome. As they hurried through the glass doors to meet her, Michelle took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. Despite their experience with extraordinary phenomena, and the unusual events they had already witnessed together, she knew the story she had to tell them this time was going to be hard to believe.

No, she told herself, as she met FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder's bright hazel eyes, HE would believe her. Her heart leapt at that recognition, even as he said her name warmly in his richly-toned voice; his handsome face breaking into a gentle, charming smile.

"Mulder," she replied, even more grateful to see him than she had expected. Ignoring the rapid beating of her heart, she forced herself to pull away from his grin, turning towards the woman at his side.

"Hi Dana."

"Hi Michelle," the elegant auburn haired woman replied with a smile of her own. "How are you?"

"Okay," the taller woman said automatically, even though she knew it was a lie.

"Thank you both for coming so quickly," she added, her smile not hiding the anxiety in her eyes or the deep-grooved lines stretching around her eyes.

"We're always happy to help a friend," Scully answered gently, exchanging a concerned glance with Mulder.

He nodded, then reached out to touch both woman's shoulders. "Let's go get our luggage, then find somewhere we can talk."

The trip to Michelle's home began in silence. She knew they were waiting for her to begin, to explain her hysterical call for help the previous night. She still felt a little embarrassed by it. She had never been one to break down easily, she was a professional in a high-stress job - a job in which lives could depend upon her decisions. And yet twice in the last two years, she had gone running to these two federal agents in a panic. She shook her head slightly and concentrated on her driving, expertly weaving the car through the blaring, rain-soaked muddle of the Houston traffic.

"Sorry about the weather," she said, still putting off the moment of truth. "We've had a lot of rain this spring."

"So have we," Mulder spoke easily, willing to give her time to find the words she needed. He knew something was seriously wrong, the terror in her voice had been clear over the phone, and he could see the tension in the way she sat, the white- knuckled grip of her hands on the steering wheel, the rasp in her usually clear voice. He wanted to reach out and reassure her, but he wasn't sure what to say. She had said very little over the phone, just pleaded for his help. Without knowing the cause, how could he honestly tell her everything would be all right.

Nonetheless, he felt a driving need to *make* things all right for her. She was one of the very few people he'd met who was willing to accept the extraordinary. In their previous meeting, she had not bothered with denial of the unusual events which had occurred; instead she had simply taken them in her stride, and moved on - something very few people were capable of doing. As much as he trusted, depended on, and even loved his partner, Scully never lost her skepticism, her tenacious ability to dismiss or rationalize the unusual phenomena they encountered in their work. Sometimes that quality in her stimulated him, pushed him to accomplish far more than he might without her incessant logic prodding him, but sometimes he felt the need to talk to someone who could accept those experiences without question.

A sudden turn of the wheel, and the car swerved to the right, jolting Mulder out of his reveries. His head jerked up, only to find Scully watching him with amusement in her bright blue eyes.

"Have a good nap Mulder?" she asked.

He shrugged and grinned at her, then turned towards Michelle who was staring intently at the road in front of them.

"Michelle..." he began.

"I know this is going to sound crazy," she interrupted, suddenly letting the words flow out of her in a rush. "But something has happened to my sister." Michelle didn't notice Mulder's reaction, but, seated in the back seat, Scully noted the straightening of Mulder's posture, the tightening of his jaw. That word, sister held too many painful memories for him.

Unaware of their reactions, her eyes glued to the wet, windswept highway in front of her, Michelle continued, "You see, my parents died in a car accident several years ago, leaving me to take care of Alison. My job takes up so much of my time, but I try hard to be there for her. To be a friend as well as a sister. I thought we had a good relationship - we always used to be able to talk about everything." He voice broke, and she fell silent for a moment. Mulder and Scully stayed silent, letting her set her own pace.

"She did well in high school," Michelle began again. "Then she started at UT-Austin this past fall. She was extremely happy there - said she loved it.

"She joined a sorority, Omega Chi Omega, and was making lots of friends. Her classes may have suffered a bit first semester, but she was working hard second semester - well at least until a few weeks ago."

Michelle turned her head to meet Mulder's eyes, and he inclined his head at her in silent encouragement. She took a deep breath.

"Her letters turned - well, strange. Disjointed. At times it was as though two different people were writing parts of them. She'd break off one sentence, then pick up with a completely different subject, and the handwriting was different. Our phone calls were the same. At times she would be my little sister, but at others she would sound like a stranger. And she would break out in fits of laughter for no reason."

Scully leaned forward, a deep frown on her face, but Michelle saw her in the rear-view mirror, and forestalled her comment.

"I thought the same thing too, Dana, at first. I was terribly worried she had started taking drugs. So I pressured her into coming home for spring break instead of going to Florida with her friends, so that I could watch her closely. See if she was taking anything. But there was nothing." Her voice was filled with sadness. "I even searched her room and her belongings. I felt like a traitor, but I had to know." She glanced at Mulder for reassurance, and he gave it willingly.

"You did the right thing," he said. "If she is taking drugs, then she needs help. You'd only be hurting her in the long run if you ignore the warning signs."

"I know," Michelle responded. "But I couldn't find anything. I even took her to a doctor under the excuse that a general physical was required for her to be covered under a new health insurance plan. I asked the doctor, confidentially, to run some tests. But she came up clean. Nothing."

"How did she respond to your parent's death?" Scully spoke as gently as she could.

"She was devastated at first, we both were. It was so sudden, so senseless. But we got through it together, it made us even closer. Besides, it was five years ago, why would it affect her like this so much later?" Michelle answered, then spoke again before either of them could reply. "Anyway, there's more." Her face hardened and her hands grasped the steering wheel even tighter, her finger tips turning red, the knuckles bleaching further.

"About three days ago, right before she was leaving to return to Austin, I ran home in the middle of the day. I'd left some paperwork I needed on the kitchen table." Michelle let out a bitter laugh. "I thought things like this only happened in soap operas, but when I walked into the kitchen I found...David and my 19-year-old sister...making love on the counter." Both Mulder and Scully drew in deep breaths, they had not been expecting this.

"I'm sorry," Mulder told her helplessly, not knowing what else to say.

Michelle didn't respond to his statement, just nodded at the road.

"Needless to say, there was quite a scene between David and me. Alison just sat there, not even bothering to button her shirt or lower her skirt. She just sat there and laughed at us both. David insisted that Alison was at fault, that she had seduced him. And it wasn't that I didn't believe him; I did. But he was still my husband, and this was my baby sister - even if she was acting like a stranger.

"Anyway, David packed up and left that very afternoon. He moved into the space center's barracks. I haven't spoken to him since. Alison packed up and left the next morning. Every time I tried to talk to her, she would just give me this smile...I can't describe it. It was knowing and gloating, amused and menacing, all at once. And her eyes. It was like I was looking at a stranger with my sister's face.

"I know this sounds crazy, and after all that has happened, you must think I'm wasting your time, but I think Alison...I think..." Michelle took a deep breath, then forced herself to say the words. "The person who says she is Alison isn't. I don't know how or why, but there's someone else in there.

"And she's not the only one."

"Thank you." Scully replaced the phone receiver and angled her head towards Mulder. "The Dean confirms what Michelle told us. Over the past two months there have been a series of odd incidents on campus, centering around Alison's sorority. Two of the girls were arrested recently for running naked through the West Mall area during exams. Another pair were accused of assaulting a male student, but the charges were withdrawn before they could be officially filed. In another case, one of the sorority sisters was accused of sleeping with her Physics professor in exchange for a better grade by a couple of her classmates, but both she and the teacher in question denied the accusation vigorously. Without proof the case was dropped." Mulder nodded, grimacing. Scully sighed, getting up to walk across the small den to stand by the window.

"Other sorts of hi-jinks have been reported," she continued. "Rumors of orgies, dark ceremonies, peculiar behavior. But again, nothing substantiated, and an inspection of the sorority found nothing out of the ordinary. Up until this semester, this was considered the most academically-oriented of the sororities on campus - it had an excellent reputation. The Dean's office is quote watching it closely unquote, but there isn't anything they can do without proof. OXO has some very influential alumni."

Mulder frowned. "How much of an investigation was actually done?"

"Not much," Scully replied. "Basically, the dean's staff interviewed the house resident advisor and the president of the sorority and did a spot check of the rooms for the presence of illicit substances. They came up empty-handed."

"I know it sounds like drugs, even though nothing was found," Mulder said pensively, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin. "But..."

"But you believe Michelle." Scully's tone was without inflection.

"I believe that she is the most likely one to notice if her sister is acting aberrantly. I believe that something is affecting the behavior of those girls, and that more than drug use or college pranks is involved," he hedged. "But exactly what?" He shrugged and splayed his hands out in front of him. "I just don't know, Scully. I do know that Michelle is not someone to panic without reason. She is accustomed to dealing with high stress in her career. Remember how well she handled herself well last year. If she thinks that her sister is..."

"Possessed?" Scully finished for him, leaning her head to the side, a familiar edge of skepticism in her voice.

"She didn't say that," Mulder reminded her, leaping up out of his chair to prowl the room. "She just said her behavior had markedly altered, and we have no reason to doubt her on that."

"I know," Scully rubbed the back of her neck, a wing of copper-colored hair swinging down to cover her face. "And despite the lack of substantiation of these reports, it does seem that something is happening at that sorority house. But I still think we can't rule out the influence of narcotics - or perhaps alcohol. That might not show up in Alison's blood if she was smart enough to avoid drinking for a while before the doctor's appointment."

Mulder nodded, coming to a halt by the edge of the small mahogany desk. Perching himself on the top, he reached behind him to pick up a small gold-framed picture. For a moment he stared at the smiling happy face of a golden-haired teenager, then he looked up at his partner, hazel eyes bright and focused.

"I know this isn't a usual case, Scully, but I think we need to check this out. And not simply for Michelle's sake. There is something wrong here. These girls are in trouble."

"Since when have we ever had a usual case?" Scully teased with a smile. Mulder returned her grin, his face lighting up as he smiled.

"Still," Scully added, her expression darkening. "We're here, so we might as well check it out. Besides, Michelle is counting on us. I...I don't want to see her hurt anymore if possible, but..." she shook her head.

Mulder instantly understood her feelings, she didn't want to play into Michelle's fantasies, especially if this was simply her way of coping with her loved ones' betrayal. Yet, if Michelle was right, then her sister was in need of serious help. Scully had her doubts, as usual, but Mulder was instinctively certain that Michelle was telling the truth.

"We find the truth, Scully." His voice was soft, but determined. "And then we help Michelle deal with it - whatever it is."

Michelle was standing on the back porch, staring up at the night sky. It was a beautiful, clear night, the rain having finally subsided. The moon was a bright crescent in a field of diamond stars, the air was cool and still. Clutching her arms around her, she found herself wondering yet again how her life had turned ugly so quickly. There should have been something she could have done. Some sign she should have seen that would have warned her of what was to come. Lost in her thoughts, which circled endlessly round and round like a carousel, she didn't notice Mulder's light steps as he walked up behind her.

"Aaah," she jolted with surprise as his hands closed on her shoulders.

"Michelle. I'm sorry, I didn't meant to startle you." He let his hands exchange shoulders as she turned to face him.

"That's okay," she replied, taking a deep breath and looking up into his face. Actually, she didn't need to look far, she was a reasonably tall woman. Still, Mulder had a few inches on her, just as David had... David, who had betrayed her. The pain of that struck her again, sharp and piercing, like a breath of ice- cold air.

Mulder saw the look of anguish cross her face under the soft yellow glow of the porchlight, and he tightened his grip on her shoulders.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, reaching out to press her hands against his chest.

"Yeah, I guess so." She forced herself to smile up at him, the smile turning real as she met his warm gaze. What color were his eyes? They seemed to change, brown to green, to a bright silvery color she couldn't name. But right now, they were a rich liquid brown, filled with sympathy and understanding.

She laughed harshly, it was not a happy sound.

"I seem to keep asking you - and Scully - to come to my aid. I'm not used to playing the damsel-in-distress. Usually, I'm the one in control." She pulled away and turned back to stare out at the dark horizon. "I've always planned and executed my life, one step at a time. School, career, marriage - I thought I had it all worked out right. One small bump, but you and Scully got me through that." She angled her head back to glance at him. "But now it's all in ruins, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how I'm supposed to handle this."

"Michelle," Mulder responded, moving forward to close the distance between them, but holding back from touching her further, uncertain of what to do or say. "I don't think anyone would know how to handle what you've just been through. And I doubt that there is a right way. You simply have to do what is best for you, and the people you love."

"People I love?" she let out a bitter laugh, then was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was brittle, but contained. "Dana doesn't believe me, does she?"

Mulder hesitated for a moment, then told the simple truth. "Dana doesn't know what to believe. But she wants to help you. We both do."

She turned to face him, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself. Meeting his eyes directly, she asked him point- blank.

"Do you believe me?"

Mulder opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed.

"I believe that you believe." He shook his head and smiled sadly, they both knew that was no more than a cop-out. He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and committed himself.

"Yes, Michelle, I believe you."

She expelled her breath, her chest heaving slightly, the rush of relief making her feel tired and weak.

"Thank you," she said softly, her eyes filling with liquid. "I just wish I knew what to believe."

That statement made Mulder grin. He gave a short hiccup of a laugh, then reached out to take her hands.

"Believe the truth, Michelle. We may not know what it is yet, but we will find out."

She tightened her fingers on his. "Then you will help me."

Mulder nodded.

"Yes. We'll drive to Austin in the morning."

"Thank you...again," she replied with a tremulous smile. Releasing his hands, she reached up to touch his shoulders, pulling him down to her.

"Michelle..." he hesitated for a moment, his eyes questioning, as her lips gently brushed his cheek.

Turning his head he returned the kiss, ever so slightly touching her lips with his. She gasped in response, then pressed up against him, twining her hands around his neck to guide his head closer to hers.

As their lips met again, and clung, the kiss quickly deepened into a heated exploration of each other's mouths. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body into the depths of his embrace.

Caught up in the sudden flood of emotion, of uncertain, but increasingly demanding desire, neither noticed Scully's small figure as she came up behind them, then pivoted and slipped back into the house.

Mulder threaded his hands through Michelle's long, silky blond hair, groaning deep in his throat as her tongue traced the length of his jaw. He buried his face in the scented hollow just below her ear, the need burning in him so intensely, he felt like the blood was boiling in his veins.

A quick taste of her skin, then he used her hair to pull her mouth back to meet his, thrusting his tongue deep into her open and accepting mouth. But at the very moment that his head was descending towards hers, a sudden bright image interposed itself over her features: a face whose brilliant blue eyes were framed by a riot of color, whose hair was a bright glowing red.

Scully? His mind plummeted into a whirlpool, as his body stiffened. Pulling his mouth off Michelle's, he shuddered as he drew in a deep breath of cold night air.

"Mulder?" her voice was hoarse, as she stared anxiously up at him, her eyes still lost and unfocused, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Michelle...I..." he pushed her away, his hands closing into fists at his side.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" She was nearly in tears, her voice cracking.

He caught the pain in her eyes, and felt a sense of guilt wash over him, a feeling that was all too familiar.

"Nothing," he started to say, then changed his mind and began again. "It's not you Michelle. It's me. I can't explain it, but this isn't right." He felt like he had to struggle for every word. "Despite everything that has happened, you still love your husband. and I...I...unh..." He lost it there, how could he verbalize those feelings, even if he was sure what they were. The sudden need for it to be Scully he was holding, Scully he was kissing - it had shaken him to the core. It wasn't that he didn't know his own feelings for his partner. She was as much as part of him as blood rushing through his veins, as the very air he breathed. But they had very carefully kept a professional distance, keeping their relationship strictly platonic.

So this shouldn't be a problem. Dana Scully was his partner and best friend, not his girlfriend or lover. He was free to have other relationships, as was she. And he did care about Michelle. He liked her, respected her, cared about her, even wanted her. So why did he feel like he was betraying Dana by making love to another woman. Unable to understand it himself, he simply stood silently, staring into Michelle's pretty face with a look of utter confusion.

Michelle took a moment to recover her composure, then smiled sadly.

"You are in love with Dana."

"No!" he protested. "I mean, I do love her, but I'm not in love with her. She's my partner. We don't have that kind of relationship."

"I see the way you both look at each other," Michelle responded. "Especially when you're sure the other isn't looking." She sighed. "I knew that, I guess I just wanted to ignore it. And perhaps, I was just trying to hurt David back." Then she shook her head and reached out to finger the dark strands of hair on his temples. "No, it was more than that. I feel good with you. Safe."

Mulder found himself able to smile at her assertion. "You must be the only one." Then his expression turned serious. "Michelle, I don't want to see anyone get hurt, especially not you. You're going through a rough time right now, and I'm - typically - a bit of a mess." He shook his head. "Dana and I have a lot of unresolved questions, but we can't be more than friends, whatever our feelings may be. It's just too risky, too complicated." He closed his eyes, then opened them again, leaning his head back towards the sky, as though searching the stars for advice. "I don't have any easy answers, but," he stared down into her moonlit face, reaching out to cup her jaw with gentle fingers, "I do care about you very much."

She rested her chin in his palm for a moment, then turned liquid-filled eyes up at him. "I care about you too, and you're right. I don't want to do something we could both regret later. But do you think it would be okay, if you just held me for a while?"

He smiled warmly, reaching to draw her up towards him. "I think that would be very okay."

Scully was silent as she helped Mulder load their luggage back into the car, while Michelle was on the phone in the kitchen, arranging to take some time off from NASA. She had insisted on coming with them, her blue-gray eyes fiercely determined as she insisted that this was her sister, her problem. Scully couldn't help feeling that Mulder had given in too easily, but after the scene she had witnessed last night, his desire to have the pretty blond with them was hardly surprising.

'Stop it!' she yelled at herself mentally, ignoring the look of worried concern Mulder threw her as she slammed the car trunk closed, nearly catching his hand in the process. Stalking past him to pick up her briefcase, she was far too busy going over the same round of arguments she'd struggled with all night long, to pay attention to his reaction.

This time, she thought with bitter amusement, she had been the one suffering from insomnia. Hour after long hour had passed, while she tossed and turned, fighting to close out the images that kept burning into her mind. Mulder and Michelle clasped together on the porch, the small yellow light turning Michelle's hair to pure gold as it tumbled over Mulder's fingers; Mulder and Michelle as she imagined they would look in bed, his dark head buried against her chest, her fingers digging into the smooth muscles of his back; Mulder and Michelle entwined with each other's bodies... No! She violently banished the pictures, telling herself that it was none of her business, that she had no claim on his private life. Mulder was her partner and her friend, but no more. 'And who are you kidding, Dana?' a small voice whispered in her head.

"Scully?" She drew a quick gasp as she spun on her heels to find him towering over her, his eyes dark with concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mulder." She avoided his eyes and tried to brush past him, shuddering slightly as she contacted the side of his body. Stalking towards the house, she forced herself not to look back, not to turn and see the look of confusion and pain she knew was etched on his strongly-carved features. If he was going to go around sleeping with their friends, then he deserved what he got, she thought angrily, refusing to further question the source of her anger.

The door swung inward just as she reached out to touch the doorknob, Michelle stepping out to stand face to face with Scully. Both women paused for a moment studying each other with outward composure, then Scully pulled aside to let Michelle walk past her, eyeing the taller woman with tightly concealed jealousy. Michelle looked fresh and comfortable in her brown tweed skirt and white blouse, her long blond hair tied back into a neat pony-tail. She was nearly as tall as Mulder in her leather boots, her movements concise and graceful as she approached him.

"I took a week off just in case," Michelle explained, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart as she looked up at Mulder, feeling a bit embarrassed by her behavior the previous night, not sure whether to feel grateful for or disappointed by his gentle letdown. All she knew was that she had not slept well after leaving the shelter of his embrace, her dreams tormented and fragmented, and that she was terrified of what this day might bring.

"Good," Mulder said, giving her a reassuring smile. He hadn't missed the tension in the way she held herself, the fear in her gray-blue eyes. "Guess we'd better get on the road. I'll drive."

Michelle nodded and turned back to lock the door after Scully marched back down to the car without a word. Michelle watched her enviously, admiring the other woman's cool composure and striking looks. Scully's brilliant auburn hair was still damp, framing her oval face and clear blue eyes in a riot of color, matching the color of her lips, all set off perfectly by her neat, and perfectly tailored blue suit. Beside her, Michelle felt dowdy and plain, and feeling Mulder's eyes on them both, only barely suppressed a pang of jealousy. How could she have even thought she could compete with this red-haired beauty for any man?

The drive into Austin was spent in an uncomfortable silence. Each attempt at conversation floundered, then died. Mulder kept glancing at Scully's drawn face in the rear-view mirror, his frustration growing minute by minute. He wanted desperately to stop the car, pull her out, and demand to know what was going on. But every time he felt his foot edge towards the brake, he'd catch sight of Michelle's pale face in the corner of his eye, and feel compelled to press back on the accelerator. He had promised her his help, and he meant to keep that obligation. Especially given the way he had behaved the night before.

Mulder shifted nervously in his seat, as he speeded up to pass a truck along the silent empty length of the highway. He had spent most of the night wavering between acute embarrassment and self-disgust. He had quite simply been a fool, for there was no reason why he and Michelle shouldn't have a relationship. Finally, this once in his life, he had found a woman he knew would be good for him; one who was strong and honest and kind. And in typical fashion, he had proceeded to make an absolute mess of it. Twice he had actually gotten as far as the door to the guest room to go to her, and twice he had turned back to bed alone. And on top of all that, there were his convoluted feelings for Scully to consider. He just didn't know what was right anymore.

Each lost on their private thoughts, the three barely noticed the passing of the countryside, making the transition into downtown Austin traffic a surprise.

"Where to?" Mulder asked Michelle as he pulled to a stop at a red light.

"Take a left at the next light, then another left about a mile down the road." Mulder nodded and followed her concise directions easily, observing carefully as a suburban neighborhood melded into a shopping area, and from there into the busy, pedestrian crammed streets of the campus.

Finally they drove down a small, tree-lined side-street, coming to halt in front of a large brick house, its front porch lined with thick bushes and flower beds. Three and a half-stories high, it had freshly painted white-shuttered windows dotted along the walls, and a sloping brown-shingled roof. Centered under the point of the roof were three large white letters, two Greek omegas on either side of a big, slightly crooked "X."

"Parking is always a problem here, but we can probably get away with leaving the car in the driveway for a while," Michelle suggested.

Mulder nodded, and swung the small blue Toyota into the thin strip of concrete that ran between the house and its neighbor, leaving only just enough room on either side to wedge the doors open a few inches.

"Sorry," Mulder said, as he tried to inch his lanky frame out of the driver's door. "I should have let you both out first."

"It's okay," Scully replied, her mind clicking into professional mode as she began to consider the reason they were there, something she hadn't spared a thought for since the prior evening. Quickly moving around to the front lawn, she stared up at the house, straightening her suitcoat and automatically checking the position of the gun holstered to her belt.

Mulder and Michelle came up beside, the tall man centered between the two woman. Taking a deep breath, Michelle exchanged a glance with Mulder, then stepped forward to lead the way up the stairs. Mulder gestured for Scully to proceed him, again feeling the new coolness in her eyes when she looked briefly at him, then followed Michelle up to the front door of the sorority house.

Alison was a smaller, younger version of Michelle, her thick blond hair falling in a golden curtain around her milky- skinned face, her eyes a clear porcelain blue. Sitting with them in the front parlor of the house, she looked the very picture of youthful innocence, her lips parted in a slight smile as she expressed her surprise and joy at the unexpected visit.

The room itself was warm and comfortable, sunlight streaming in through lace curtains, heavy bookshelves lining the wall. A pair of thickly stuffed couches centered on a big brick fireplace, a large-screen TV set just to the side of the hearth. The carpet was a rich brown, the upholstery a rich flower pattern, blue and green and red and purple.

Michelle and Scully sat somewhat uncomfortably side- by-side facing Alison, while Mulder walked over to the fireplace and studied it for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Dana and ...Fox came to visit me this week, I don't know if you remember meeting them at my wedding," Michelle nearly stammered, too focused on her sister's face to notice that Scully jolted in her seat, her generous lips drawing into tight lines as she threw a burning glance at her partner's back in response to the other woman's use of his first name. But Alison saw it, her eyes glinting with mischief as she looked from her older sister's drawn face to the shuttered expression on Scully's face to the man still apparently ignoring them both.

"I remember," Alison replied. "I'm glad you had the time to come see me." Scully forced out a smile in response as Mulder finally turned to favor the younger girl with his most engaging grin. "Couldn't resist coming to see my best dance partner," he said.

Alison's smile deepened, though only Mulder noticed that it didn't touch her watchful eyes.

"We just thought we'd drive over and see you," Michelle continued to explain. "And show Fox and Dana the campus, maybe stay overnight..."

Alison simply continued to smile as Michelle came to a stuttering halt and looked to Mulder and Scully for assistance. He walked over and perched on the edge of the couch Alison was sitting on, asking nonchalantly, "How are your classes going?"

"Fine," the young woman replied, angling her head up towards him. "Though I do have a math exam this afternoon. Calculus."

"Ugh!" Mulder grimaced in sympathy. "Good luck!"

"Thanks!" Alison responded laughing. Then she glided to her feet. "But I am afraid that it will take a little more than luck, I'm sorry Mich, but I really need to go to the library and study."

"That's okay," Scully spoke for the first time. "We can just wander around and sightsee a bit. After all, we are on vacation."

"Yes, of course," Michelle added nervously, again seeking out Mulder's eyes. He gave no more than a flicker of a response, then stood up to tower over Alison. "How about we take you out tonight, to celebrate your survival of the Calculus exam?"

"I've got a better idea," she replied, with apparent enthusiasm, turning a wide-eyed smile on them all. "Why don't you all come here for dinner? You can meet my friends. We have an excellent cook."

"If you're sure it won't be a problem..." Scully said.

"Not at all, it'll be great! I'll just go tell Louisa that we have three more for dinner." She raced for the doorway, then paused and spun to face them again. "Dinner is at six. Don't be late!" she admonished, wriggling a finger at them, then dissolving into giggles she ran out of the room.

Mulder, Michelle, and Scully were silent for a moment, then Scully stood up and sighed. "This begins to look like a waste of time," she observed acidly, unbuttoning her jacket. It was uncomfortably warm in this room, she thought.

"How can you say that so quickly?" Mulder argued. "We only spoke to her for a moment, and it wasn't like we were expecting her to rant and rave, or start frothing at the mouth."

Scully gave him her best skeptical look, and he sighed.

"Sometimes she is fine," Michelle interrupted. "She can go for hours being herself, then suddenly change. We just have to spend more time here. Maybe something will happen over dinner." Scully heard the edge of desperation in her voice, and felt a sudden pang of guilt.

"Maybe," she said with some sympathy. "But you have to realize that we might not find anything. We don't have any official jurisdiction, or a legitimate case. I know your sister's actions hurt you, and I'm sorry for that, but nothing here seems to qualify as a criminal action." Scully frowned, the dean's report echoing in her mind. "Unless we find drugs are involved."

"I know," Michelle responded, getting up to remove her jacket. Suddenly she felt terribly hot. Draping the brown garment over the back of the couch, she rubbed the back of her neck, her hand coming away soaked with sweat. "It's just that I know my sister, or at least I thought I did. And she just isn't acting like herself." Her pale blue eyes filled with tears as she walked over to the window and stared out at the green lawn. "Maybe I'm the one who is going crazy."

"No," Mulder insisted, going over to put his hands on her shoulders. "You are not crazy, Michelle." His voice was tender and reassuring. "Something is wrong here, I can feel it." He shivered slightly as he spoke, feeling another sudden chill. He had been constantly cold since he walked into the house. In addition, he had felt a constant sense of being watched, like an itch between his shoulder blades.

Sliding one arm around Michelle, he guided her around to face Scully who was staring at them both with an utterly blank expression.

"We've got some time before dinner," he suggested to Scully. "I'd like to interview the boy who said he was attacked, and it might be a good idea for you to talk to the two girls who did the flasher-stunt." His mouth curved into a smile. "Unless you want to exchange assignments?"

Scully gave him a disgusted look, not bothering to dignify that with an answer. "What about Michelle?" she asked, arching an auburn eyebrow at him.

"Why don't you see what you can find out about the house itself," Mulder suggested. Michelle gave him a questioning look. "Find out who built it and when," he explained. "It's history: who has lived in it, how did it become a sorority house, anything unusual that might have occurred here."

"Okay," Michelle agreed.

Watching Michelle and Mulder exchange another warm smile, Scully felt an abrupt rush of humid warmth, sweat beginning to pool under her arms and trickle between her breasts. Picking up her purse, she turned on her heels and left the room, allowing herself to gasp for breath only when she was out of the house and standing on the sidewalk.

"Scully?" Mulder's voice rang out after her, as he leapt down the front steps two at a time, Michelle trailing behind him. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" she yelled. Then as a cool breeze rifled through her hair, soothing the flush of her skin, she sighed and turned to him, an apology written in her eyes. "It just was a little hot and stuffy in there. I needed some fresh air."

Mulder noticed the blush of her skin and the moisture beaded on her forehead for the first time and frowned. "Maybe we should get a hotel room and let you lie down for a while. You should tell me if you're feeling ill, Scully."

"I'm fine!" she insisted. "Like I said, it was just too humid in there. They must have a faulty heater or something."

Mulder shook his head, "Scully, it wasn't hot in there. If anything it was too cold. I was freezing the entire time."

"That's impossible, Mulder. It must have been 80 degrees in that room." Michelle interjected, "I feel like I've been in a sauna."

"But..." Mulder's brow wrinkled in concentration, both women were obviously flushed and sweating, but it still didn't make any sense. He could feel the lingering chill on his skin. So what was going on?

In the kitchen, three young women were sitting around a small table, waiting silently for Alison. As she entered the room, a tall brown-haired girl stood up. Violet eyes flashed as she walked over to the smaller blond.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Alison protested, then a bubble of mirth escaped her lips. "Well, nothing of any importance, Tricia," she added languidly, pushing past the other girl to take her seat at the table.

"Your sister brings two federal agents into this house, and you say it's nothing of any importance?" A second girl spoke incredulously, her pitch black hair spilling over her shoulders in a riot of curls.

"What if they find out about..." the third girl asked, green eyes wide with concern.

"Don't worry," Alison interrupted with a wave of her hand. She leaned towards them, a mocking smile stretching her lips wide. "We'll take care of them tonight."

Having dropped Michelle off at the Austin Library to start her research, Mulder did his best to maneuver the car though the unfamiliar streets, under Scully's terse directions. The UT-Austin map spread out in her lap, she kept turning it sideways, trying to match the three letter codes with the buildings.

Stopped at a red light, Mulder took the opportunity to ask her the question that had been bothering him all day.

"What's wrong Scully?"

"What?" she said, looking over at him distractedly, her glasses perched awkwardly on the tip of her nose. Almost without realizing he was doing it, he reached out and tenderly slid the wire frames further up her nose.

"Mulder!" she said with annoyance, pulling away and readjusting the glasses herself.

"Well..." he prompted again.

"The light's green," she avoided his question, pointing to the traffic light, which had indeed turned green. Sighing, Mulder started the car forward. She could be so stubborn, he thought with frustration. He was just going to have to wait until she decided to talk about it, difficult as that would be. Sneaking a quick sidelong glance at her, red-crowned head already bent again over the map, he recognized again the depth of his feeling for her and felt his stomach sink. Whether he liked it or not, there were boundaries that had to be held, if only for her own safety. He'd put her at risk too many times, he didn't want to do so again. He knew only too well that losing her would destroy him.

"Turn left there...Mulder! Turn left!" Scully's voice rose as he drove unresponsively past the street they need to be on to reach the parking garage.

"Whaaawhat?" He abruptly slammed on the brakes, forcing Scully to fall forward in her seat and causing the driver behind them to blare his horn in annoyance as he slid into the next lane and raced around their suddenly still car.

"Wake up, Mulder," she said with irritation, certain that she knew full well why he kept dozing off. She obviously hadn't been the only one who hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, albeit for very different reasons. "If you are going to fall asleep at the wheel, maybe you should let me drive."

"No," Mulder replied somewhat sheepishly, pulling the car closer to the curb. "I was just thinking. Now where was I supposed to turn?"

Scully shook her head, then turned and pointed across his shoulders. "Over there, onto 21st St. The Dobie garage is a couple of blocks down. We should be able to walk from there to West Mall and the Main Administration Building."

"Okay," Mulder said, looking back over his shoulder, then studying the review mirrors. He waited for another couple of cars to pass, then put the car into reverse and backed up into the street.

"Mulder!" Scully exclaimed again, gripping the dashboard hard as the car flew backwards, screeched to a halt, then swung to the left.

As they finished the turn onto 21st, Mulder gave Scully an unabashed grin, receiving another look of annoyance. But his good humor was hard to resist, that wide, toothy grin had always had an affect on her, and upset as she was, she couldn't help letting the corners of her mouth edge upwards. Nonetheless, her voice was acerbic as she commented, "One of these days you are going to get us both killed."

"Probably," he replied equably.

They parked the car without further incident, grabbing a quick bite to eat in the food court of the Dobie mall, and making the necessary purchase to validate the parking stub. Then they wandered outside, Mulder laughing when he was almost hit on the head with a volleyball. Walking down 21st to Guadalupe St., they crossed the busy avenue, then squeezed their way through the crowds, cutting between the big yellow brick buildings to the front of the Main Administration Hall.

The Dean of Student's office was chaotic, but the judicious use of FBI badges, as well as a suitably mysterious manner, was able to get them ushered into the inner office quickly. Obtaining the names and class schedules of the students they were interested in interviewing was more difficult, but Mulder was quite capable of being professionally intimidating when he so desired, and now was one of those times. The combination of his height, the intensity of his eyes and the grave cast of his handsome features soon convinced the stocky, middle- aged Dean that something serious was occurring.

Hiding her amusement, Scully fostered that impression, flattering the Dean with assurances of how much the Bureau appreciated his cooperation, how they were counting on his ability to maintain their cover, how they were relying on his obvious trustworthiness. Mulder stifled a chuckle with a cough, as she delivered that last line in calm, dulcet tones. But the Dean bought it all, curiosity and eagerness written on his face. In moments, he was sending his secretary scurrying for the three class schedules.

Once they had photocopies in hand, and detailed directions, both agents gravely shook hands with the Dean and escaped out of the office.

Mulder took up a position across from the doorway to the big lecture hall. Negligently leaning his tall frame back against the wall, he studied the students as they hurried past, clustered in groups or walking alone, backpacks hanging from their shoulders, hands full of books, papers, coffee cups, and soda cans. Finally the face he was searching for came past him, longish sandy hair around a pale complexion, black-rimmed glasses perched on a long nose.

"Ben Forder?" Mulder stepped in front of the boy, stopping him in his tracks.

"What? Yes?" Forder looked up at the tall dark man blocking his path.

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, Federal Bureau of Investigation," Mulder spoke softly for Ben's ears only, flashing his I.D swiftly. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass the boy further. "If you have a few minutes, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"FBI?" Forder looked shaken, but suspicious. "What do you want with me?"

Catching the stares of other students filing past them, Mulder took Ben by the arm and led him aside. "You're not in any trouble." He reassured the young man. "I just need to talk to you about a certain incident involving the OXO sorority."

Ben's brown eyes grew stormy, and his expression tightened. "I have nothing to say!" Pulling out of Mulder's grasp, he fled down the hall and out of the building. Mulder took off after him, his long legs allowing him to easily catch up with the smaller student. Falling into step beside him, Mulder tried again.

"Look, Ben, I promise that anything you tell me will be kept in strict confidence. But there have been other reports of peculiar behavior by the members of that sorority, and we have been asked to look into it. All I ask is that you tell me the truth. So far no one has been seriously hurt, I'd like to keep it that way." As he delivered that last statement, Mulder stepped deftly in front of the student, pinning him with an intense stare.

Ben eyed the agent defiantly for a moment. "I still don't understand why the FBI is involved. No one believed me anyway. So why should you?"

Mulder thought for a moment, his brow crinkling in concentration, then he sighed. "The Bureau is not officially involved. The sister of a good friend of mine is a member of OXO. She has been acting, well, oddly lately, and her sister asked for my help. Look, Ben, I have no official right to hold you, or question you, but something is wrong in that house. Those girls are in trouble. I just want to find the truth, and to help them."

Ben brushed long thin strands of hair out of his face and stared up at the agent for a moment. He saw a tall, slender man dressed in an expensive, well-tailored dark suit and black raincoat, the professional effect ruined by a clashing, brightly- patterned tie. Thick black hair swept back from a high forehead, a few strands drifting across his temples. The gray-brown eyes were piercing and intense, yet somehow colored with a tinge of sadness; the mouth was firm, the features strong and handsome. All in all, it was a good face, and one that Ben found himself liking, especially the sense of individuality that spoke through the shocking tie and intelligent eyes, and the humor in the lines around the mouth and eyes.

"Okay," Ben was grudging. Then he shrugged. "There certainly is something weird going on in that house. I still don't quite believe what happened to me, and I was there."

The two men fell into step, the short student taking two strides for each of the agent's, as Mulder quietly prodded. "Tell me all about it."

"Look, it was just a silly prank. We did it on a dare." The young sorority girl stared at Scully with open hostility.

"I don't see what the big deal was, anyway," her companion added, shifting her bookbag impatiently.

Scully glared at them both impassively. On the surface they appeared to be totally normal coeds. One was dark and slightly plump, black hair curling thickly over her shoulders. The other was athletic looking, with blunt cut blond hair and plain features. Both wore jeans, light-weight sweaters, and sneakers.

"So you both ran naked though the busiest part of the campus in the middle of the day, just because someone dared you to do it?" she summarized blandly.

They both shrugged. "Look, Agent Scully, we've been all through this with the police, the Dean, and our parents. It may have been dumb, but it's hardly a federal case. Now if you don't mind, we're late for class."

Scully's eyes narrowed slightly. She could tell they were keeping something from her, though she didn't have the faintest idea what. And without anything more than an intuitive feeling, she had no right to hold them. When she indicated they were free to go, they both smiled mockingly, exchanging sharp glances.

As both girls walked away, whispering to each other as soon as they were out of the agent's hearing, Scully checked her watch and frowned. She sure hoped Mulder was having better luck, because right now they had nothing at all.

"At first it was like a fantasy come true," Ben told Mulder, leaning over the table in their booth at the student union. Mulder nodded, then took a sip of his diet Coke, his eyes never leaving the boy's face.

"I mean, two really pretty girls wanting to have sex with me. I thought I was in heaven. But then it turned, kind of weird. Well, I mean it was weird to start with, Helen had never paid any attention to me, and I'd never even met her friend before. And then suddenly, they cornered me in the lower stacks at FAC. I, well, went along with them a bit, but then I saw..." Ben broke off and took a gulp of his soda.

"What did you see?" Mulder asked, his voice gentle, but edged with acute curiosity.

Ben swallowed, then looked the agent straight in the eyes. "Their eyes, I'd swear they were glowing. Red. And it wasn't a trick of the light, I was looking at them from different angles. And besides, they were hot, their skin felt like it was burning up. It just shocked me, and I tried to pull away, but they wouldn't let me go." He shook at the memory.

Mulder sat silently letting the student talk at his own pace. After a moment, Ben just shrugged.

"I was pretty freaked out at that point. I just started shoving at them, and trying to get to my feet. I'm not even sure how I got free." He shivered. "I turned to look at them just as I got around the corner, and I'd swear..." Ben paused, uncertain how to put it into words. Mulder inclined his head encouragingly, lifting the corners of his mouth just enough to reassure.

"They didn't look...human... They hissed at me, and one was giggling, and their eyes were inhuman. It was like they were possessed or something."

"Did anything else, unusual, happen? Objects moving on their own, sounds, smells?" Mulder asked.

Ben looked at him with surprise in his eyes, of all the reactions he might have expected to his story, this was not one of them. Mulder's expression was calm and serious, his eyes wide and expectant - accepting.

"I...unh...no, nothing like that. But, you believe me?" his voice was incredulous.

Mulder shrugged and smiled. "You could say I've had some experience with similar cases."

"Similar...I didn't think? Do you actually investigate possessions and stuff like that. Like the Exorcist." Ben's voice held unconcealed interest.

Mulder's smile broadened. "Once or twice. And other sorts of paranormal phenomena. You could say my partner and I are the FBI's version of the "Ghost Busters.""

"Oh, is that what we are?" Scully's voice sounded in his ear.

Mulder related Ben's story to Scully as they walked back to the car. She absorbed it without comment, then filled him in on her fruitless encounter with the two girls. "There was nothing I could put my finger on, Mulder. To all intents and purposes, these were utterly normal college kids who simply pulled a stupid prank."

"But..." Mulder prodded, as he opened the car door and popped the locks.

Scully shook her head as she got into the car. After she had fastened her seat belt, she turned to look at Mulder.

"It was just something in the way they looked at me," she finally said. "Their eyes were too knowing. I felt like they were laughing at me in their heads." She pursed her lips. "But it was only a feeling, and that hardly gives us a case. Or any answers."

"But it makes sense. What you felt was probably the force, the entity that is possessing them." Mulder replied as he carefully guided the car out of the garage.

"Possessing them, Mulder?" Scully's voice was full of characteristic skepticism. Sure, she had seen some pretty weird stuff in her time with the X-Files, and she had come far enough to recognize that there probably was existence to the soul after death; a belief that was fed by her strict Catholic upbringing, but she still preferred to look for more down-to-earth explanations first.

Mulder instantly recognized the tone in her voice, and began mentally organizing his arguments. It was great to hear Scully sound like herself, he'd been rather worried about her earlier that day. Before long, they were busily absorbed in one of their favorite arguments, very much enjoying themselves, even if neither would ever have admitted it.

Michelle was waiting for them back at the OXO house, having taken a cab from the library. Sitting on the front porch, she jumped to her feet as Mulder squeezed the car back in between the buildings.

"Did you find anything?" she asked anxiously as they walked up to meet her on the steps.

"Not much," Scully replied. "Ben Forder's statement supports yours, but we don't have any proof. Nothing definite."

"I think we have enough to know that something is wrong here." Mulder insisted, staring up at the house. "Did you find anything, Michelle?"

"Well, the house is old," she answered moving closer to him. Scully brushed past them both and sat down on the small porch bench Michelle had been sitting on, hating the sudden feeling of being a third wheel. Get a grip, Dana, she told herself silently.

Neither Mulder nor Michelle noticed anything amiss, both absorbed in the details of the house history.

"There were three prior owners of record before the house was bought by the sorority about twenty years ago," Michelle explained. "It was built by a Jonathan Fryer-Davies in 1890, then passed on to his youngest daughter, Elizabeth, in 1930. In 1945, Elizabeth died childless, and the house was inherited by her niece Gwendolyn Hunnerson. It was Gwendolyn who sold the house to OXO in 1961, when she and her husband moved to Minneapolis." Michelle moved past Mulder to sit beside Scully on the bench. Mulder perched himself against the porch railing facing the two women.

"I couldn't find much on Jonathan," Michelle continued. "He would show up at occasional charitable balls, wife and daughters in tow, and he was briefly a member of the Austin city council. His obituary said he died in his bed of pneumonia at the age of 87."

Mulder frowned, that was hardly the kind of death that tended to lead to paranormal activity such as possessions.

"What about Elizabeth?" he asked.

Michelle's eyes lighted up slightly.

"She was a lot more interesting, though how much of what I read was simply gossip, I don't know."

"What did you find?" Scully questioned, leaning forward in her seat.

"She never married, but the gossip pages were always associating her with various men, many of whom were married. She had a tendency towards being in the middle of every major scandal in town, but some of that may have been a side-effect of her work as an active women's rights activist. She was also very much into herbalistic medicine and spiritualism." Michelle grinned, "I got the sense that she was a bit ahead of her time, and would have fit in well with the 1960s."

Scully smiled in return, this description reminded her of her own sister, Melissa. Mulder's expression was more grave; he was instantly certain that the previous owner's interest in spiritualism could be the explanation for the bizarre behavior of the sorority members.

"How did she die?" he inquired.

"Officially it was reported as a heart attack, but I found some speculation in some old papers at the library that she might have overdosed on one of her own home-remedies." Michelle paused for a moment. "I just don't see how she, or any of her family could be involved in this. She might have been a bit 'odd' for her time, but I don't see anything evil or dangerous about her. In fact, I rather liked her. I got the sense she had quite a sense of humor."

"Michelle's right, Mulder," Scully seconded. "I don't see anything there that could explain the events occurring now. I mean, why now? Elizabeth has been dead for thirty years, so why should she start possessing these girls now?"

"It doesn't necessarily have to be her spirit, Scully. Spiritualism is not just thumping tables and kids playing with ouji boards. It can be very serious. Without proper precautions, an amateur can bring up some pretty nasty stuff. Maybe Elizabeth did just that, and it waited in the house until something brought it back."

"Mulder, that's nothing but pure imagination. We have no proof of anything except some erratic behavior by a few coeds. Maybe it's a sorority initiation-rite thing, or..."

"That's it!" Mulder exclaimed, eyes gleaming. "They must have raised an entity without realizing it." At Scully's look of disbelief, he insisted, "Like the high school kids in Milford Haven, they may have used bits and pieces stolen from books they didn't understand or take seriously, and like those teenagers, they drew in something dark and dangerous."

Scully opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. She couldn't totally dismiss the events they had witnessed in that small New Hampshire town without going over the edge into total denial. She refused to do that. "Okay," she sighed. "Maybe...maybe, what you suggest is just possible." At Mulder's triumphant grin, she hastened to add, "BUT, we have no proof or evidence to back up that theory. We still haven't ruled out the far simpler - and thus far more likely - possibilities like alcohol and narcotics."

"Well, we're not going to find any answers sitting here on the porch," Mulder answered, straightening his posture. Gesturing towards the door, he bowed at the waist. "After you ladies."

Dinner at the OXO house was almost too normal, Mulder thought. The girls were the very image of midwestern college girls, chattering happily about classes and teachers, boyfriends and student politics. Alison behaved exactly like the bright, sunny young woman they had met several months previously at Michelle and David's wedding, leaving Michelle obviously shaken and confused. Mulder tried a couple of times to draw the girls out subtly, asking about the house's history, Elizabeth Fryer-Davies in particular, but all he netted for his efforts were some serious historical notes about her importance in the local women's rights movement, a discussion that degenerated quickly into a discussion of the new Women's Dean on campus.

Scully nearly laughed aloud at the dismayed look on Mulder's face whenever the conversation got too female. On her end, she had brought up the subject of drugs and alcohol on campus, but was neatly cut off by a fervent recital of the OXO's house policy on the subject.

"No alcohol in the house, and any sister caught doing illegal drugs will be instantly expelled, following an evidentiary hearing," the tall dark-haired house President stated firmly, receiving solemn nods from the other girls. When she was finished, Mulder caught Scully's eyes in frustration. This was obviously getting them nowhere.

After dinner, they all moved into the parlor, where a sparkling fire was roaring in the big stone fireplace. Mulder found himself seated on the couch between Michelle and Scully, listening to the conversation with one ear, while his mind struggled to find a way to stay in the house overnight. He was certain they were being treated to a grand performance; the absence of the hot and cold chills they had experienced earlier evidence enough for his mind, though almost certainly not enough for Scully who was obviously getting tired of the whole charade.

Yawning, the auburn-haired agent stood up.

"We ought to go check into our hotel rooms and get some sleep. It's been a long day."

Mulder and Michelle frowned in unison, but before either of them could speak, Alison interrupted.

"If you're tired, why not stay here. There's no reason why you should have to spend money on hotels, when we have a couple of perfectly good guest rooms in the house. We keep them open for visiting alumni and parents, but no one else is using them now." She turned her wide, blue gaze on each of them. "Oh, please say you'll stay."

"I don't..." Scully began, but Mulder interrupted her quickly. "We'd be delighted to stay, Alison, wouldn't we Michelle?"

"Yes, yes, thank you Ali," Michelle responded instantly, desperate to keep the agents close to her sister until they could find some answer for her. She was beginning to struggle with her own sense of reality, the horrifying events of Alison's spring vacation seeming unreal in the face of her sister's present behavior. But the image from that day in the kitchen was never far from her mind, and it swam again before her eyes, making her stomach cramp up in knots. Turning to look at Scully, she silently pleaded with the practical federal agent to agree to stay.

Scully could hardly miss the distraught look in Michelle's eyes, or the fierce determination in Mulder's. She knew they were both going to stay no matter what she said, and a sudden perversity made her determined to stay with them, if only to make the continuation of their affair more difficult. A sudden wave of heat washed over her as she nodded acceptance.

The guest rooms were on the third floor at the end of a long hallway. Each had its own full bathroom, and were connected by an inner door. Scully and Michelle took the one in the corner, leaving the other to Mulder. Having hauled the luggage up from the car, and seen the two women ensconced in their room, he bumped his suitcase onto the floor and lay back on the bed, contemplating the ceiling.

His sense for the paranormal was ringing bells, but he couldn't find any logical support for it. Maybe he was just bothered by the achingly irritating normality of the entire evening. Goodness knows, such things had a way of stimulating both his sense of humor and his desire to play with people's heads. It wasn't that he meant to cause trouble, it was just that he got bored! Was that all there was to this?

Contradicting his self-doubts, his eidetic memory instantly threw up the image of Michelle's face as it had appeared when she told him and Scully about finding her sister and her husband making love. He could still hear the tremor of anguish in her usually steady voice, see the tears pooling in her normally clear blue eyes. No, he told himself. He was here to help a friend, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Leaping to his feet, he prowled the room for a while, deep in thought. He desperately wanted to take a good, long look-see around the house, but there was no way he could do that while the girls were all still awake. Checking his watch with frustration, he tried to remember what an average bedtime for a college student was. The answer his memory supplied did not improve his mood.

Deep within the heart of the house, eight young women opened the old wrought iron door and entered the hidden room in single file. Each was dressed in a flowing red robe, their hair falling loose around their shoulders, black and brown, red and gold. All eight faces were scrubbed clean of any make-up, all eighty fingertips were clear of polish. Smoothly taking up positions in a perfect circle around the nearly lightless room, they each took a turn to light a single candle, passing an old-fashioned torch from one delicate pair of hands to another, each bright flame flickering in an ebony holder suspended from the wall. When the torch had made the full circle, it was placed in an upright stand in the center of the room, illuminating a small rectangular-shaped altar, covered with a satin cloth in the same blood-red color as their robes. On the corners of the pedestal were heavy steel chains, culminating in thick, three-inch wide, padlocked cuffs.

Tightening the circle just enough to allow their hands to meet, arms fully extended between them, the eight figures began to move sideways, feet crossing with each step, the circle spinning to the left. Round and round they went, at a slow and steady pace, each step taken in perfect unison. As they moved, one voice began to chant, the sound augmented by another, then another, then yet another, until all eight were singing in harmony.

"Come to us sister, come to us our sister. We call you to join the circle, be one with us. Let free your bonds and fly with us. Come to us sister, come to us our sister..."

Caught up in their own private thoughts, Scully and Michelle partially unpacked their suitcases in silence. Pulling out her favorite green pajamas and draping them over the nearest bed, Scully turned to say something to Michelle, but found the words sticking in her throat. She knew she was being unfair, and she hated letting her emotions rule her this way, but it was hard not to see the other woman as a rival, even when her mind shied away from even considering the idea of what they were rivals over. She had always thought that she could handle it if Mulder developed an outside relationship, after all, she hadn't given up the idea of having one herself. But what if's and realities were very different things, and she was finding this a lot harder than she had ever expected. She knew she had no right to keep him from seeing another woman, not unless she was ready to push their relationship into an arena they had spent two years carefully avoiding.

Sighing under her breath, Scully decided that her best course of action was to attempt to get some sleep, in the very faint hope that things would somehow be clearer in the morning. Fat chance, she thought wryly as she gathered up her bag of toiletries and headed into the bathroom.

When Scully had closed the bathroom door behind her, Michelle closed her eyes and settled down on the edge of the bed, letting the tears she had been fighting all night drip soundlessly down her cheeks. She was emotionally, mentally exhausted. She knew something was terribly wrong with her sister, but how could she prove it? It did not take much perceptiveness to see that Dana did not believe a word of it, and despite Mulder's avowed support, she couldn't help wondering how long he would stick to it given his partner's disapproval and the total lack of proof.

The piercing knife-edge of jealousy competed with her anguish, as she let the memory of the all-too-brief interlude on the porch last night run through her mind. Already seeming like it had occurred long ago, the sweetness of the memory had the haze of a dream sequence, but the look in Mulder's eyes as he had talked about his lovely partner was all too clear. That image was far sharper than the wall in front of her, her vision swimming in salty liquid. Pressing her head into her arms, she sank into a pit of depression, lower and lower, until suddenly a burning sensation in the center of her belly began to turn the pain into anger, the sense of loss into rage.

Leaping to her feet, Michelle stalked the room, tears drying unnoticed on her cheeks as her eyes began to flash. Her fists clenched and unclenched by her sides, her skin began to heat. Almost without noticing she was doing it, she shed her jacket and her shoes, then ripped off her pantyhose, tearing long lines out of the fragile nylon. Kicking the edge of her suitcase out of her path, she growled when it spilled over, dumping clothes onto the floor. By the time Scully stepped out of the bathroom, she was lost in an emotional firestorm of fury.

In the bathroom, Scully grimly set about preparing for bed, brushing her teeth until her gums were sore, scrubbing at her face vigorously. Stripping off her clothes, she pulled on the large green silk top, which hung down nearly to her knees, but abandoned the pants, feeling that it was still far too warm in this house. Dinner had been okay, but the heater seemed to have been turned on full blast in the last few minutes, and she found herself wrenching at the window in an attempt to let in some fresh air.

Taking a few gasps of the night air, she turned back to the sink and mirror and stared at herself in frustration. She studied her own features, mentally cataloguing every possible fault. Her eyes were too wide, her nose too thick, her lips too big, her chin far too pointed. She hated the freckles that dusted her skin despite every attempt to cover them, and the color of her hair was enough to bring tears to her eyes. In the soft yellow light it looked orange; the color of a clown's wig, she thought despairingly. And she was way, way too short, she moaned aloud, the image of her six-foot-plus partner flashing before her eyes. The top of her head barely hit his shoulder, what a ridiculous looking pair they must be.

The jealousy towards Michelle reared itself again. Why, oh why, couldn't she be tall and slender and blond? Michelle looked like she was made to be at Mulder's side, her fair, golden coloring in counterpoint to his dark looks, her height close enough to his to allow her head to fit beautifully on *top* of his shoulder instead of under it. And Michelle needed him, could allow herself to lean on him. Mulder would respond to that, it was in his nature to be protective of women, perhaps a side-affect of losing his sister and caring for his distraught mother. But Scully couldn't let herself show that weakness, even when she felt it - she was his partner, the job made demands that had to be met. And a woman had to work twice as hard to be tough as an FBI agent, the slightest sign of vulnerability magnified a thousand times by her colleagues in the male-dominated profession. The fact that Mulder had never once considered her unable to meet her responsibilities, had never once doubted her abilities, was shoved aside as jealousy built into rage. It simply wasn't fair.

Willfully leaving her belongings strewn across the bathroom, something she normally wouldn't do even in her own home, Scully stalked out, only to come face to face with a flushed and tensed Michelle.

"What's the matter?" Scully asked acidly, "Missing your lover's touch already?"

Surprised as she was by the sudden attack, and by the lack of sense in the words, Michelle was too angry to think clearly.

"You think this is funny, don't you? I've seen the false pity in your eyes all day long. Poor Michelle...can't keep her husband from sleeping with her 18 year-old sister, can't find a man to love her..." Her words broke off, as she swung to the side and struck out at the top of the bureau, knocking over a flower- filled vase.

Her hands clenched at her sides, Scully let her anger wash over.

"You were doing quite fine with my partner last night, Michelle." The other woman's name was twisted and bitter, the two syllables long and drawn out. "I hope he's good enough in bed for you."

"For me? You selfish bitch," Michelle rages back, her mind only capable of believing she was being deliberately taunted. "You have everything, success, beauty, a man who loves you...isn't it enough that you have him and I'm alone. It's not fair."

Too caught up in her own feelings to pay attention to what Michelle was saying, Scully finally lost the remnants of her control.

"What's not fair is you moving in on my partner the moment your own husband is out of sight. What did you say to him," Scully's voice took on a mocking, self-pitying quality, "Oh, poor me, I'm so hurt, hold me please, kiss me please, make love to me please...and he fell for it, damn him." Her voice rose in a shriek as she reached out to slap Michelle's face hard. "Well, I won't let you have him, he's mine!"

Reeling back from the slap, additional tears stinging her eyes, Michelle didn't even bother to speak. Launching herself at Scully, she toppled the smaller woman to the floor. Struggling violently, they rolled across the floor, both voices screeching in inarticulate rage, tearing at each other's hair and scratching at each other's faces.

A loud bang sounded from the other side of the door connecting to the other guest room, causing Mulder to jolt up in bed. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he glanced around the unfamiliar room for a moment, then came to sudden recognition of where he was as another loud crash sounded from the neighboring room, accompanied by a loud, high-pitched scream.

"Scully!" he cried, leaping out of bed and seizing his gun from the top of the bedside table in one smooth motion. Finding the door locked, he eyed it for a brief second, then had his mind made up for him by the sounds of an increasing struggle on the other side of the wall. Stepping back into the room, he ran for the door, kicking out at the door jam with his right foot, breaking the lock and forcing the door wide open. He was through the opening a split second later, gun raised and ready, only to come to frozen halt as his eyes focused on the two combatants.

"What the Hell?" he murmured, eyes dilating in shock. Scully and Michelle were both partially crouched to the floor, circling each other warily. Snarling, Michelle clawed at Scully, her hand met in mid air by a return strike, Scully's face contorted into an animalistic rage. With a piercing cry, Scully leapt up onto Michelle, and they tumbled back to the floor, rolled over each other, punching at each other's stomachs and chests, then fell apart, scrambling back to their feet.

"Stop it!" Mulder cried at the top of his lungs, but he was completely ignored, as they were solely focused on each other. Holstering his gun, the tall man stepped forward, then paused, staring from one wild-eyed female to the other. This was a side of both of them he had never seen. Even caught in pure fury, Scully was breathtakingly lovely, her bright copper hair tumbling around her face in a knotted cloud, her vibrant blue eyes shooting fire. Michelle moved with the litheness and grace of a tiger, her golden mane covering one side of her face, leaving a single pale-blue eye glaring fiercely out of the other side.

Another quick circle and they were at each other's throats again, stirring Mulder into action. Knowing he was likely to regret this, but needing to end the fight before they hurt each other, he took a deep breath, secured what courage he could, and dived between them.

"Ouch!" he cried as he got pummeled from both sides, landing between them with a loud thump, the breath knocked out of his lungs as Scully's fist hit his diaphragm and Michelle's foot caught the side of his chest.

It took a moment for his presence to penetrate the two anger-hazed minds, then they both fell to their knees in shock, each reaching out to him with sudden concern. But when their hands, and then their eyes, met over the semi-prone body of the reason for the conflict, they started fighting again, Scully propelling herself over Mulder to knock Michelle backwards.

Behind them, Mulder forced himself to his feet, gasping for breath, one hand clasped around his side. He eyed the two women warily, holding off this time until they disentangled and stumbled to their feet, glaring fiercely at each other. Pulling in one more painful deep breath, Mulder poised himself, then struck, swooping down on Scully from behind, lifting her off her feet and throwing her over his shoulder. Not slowing for an instant, he carried his struggling, screaming burden though the open bathroom door, shoving it shut behind him to the sound of Michelle's voice screeching in frustration.

Sliding to a halt by the tub, Mulder carefully, but determinedly dumped Scully in the tub. Her eyes finally focused on him, she grasped onto him as he tried to let go of her, nearly tumbling him into the tub on top of her. Digging her hands into his hair, she dragged his mouth down onto hers, clamping her lips onto his. Caught by surprise, Mulder opened his mouth to cry out, only to have her thrust her tongue deep into his mouth.

"Unh..." he groaned deep in his throat, a flood of desire rushing through him in response to the kiss he had long dreamed of. Staggering against the edge of the bathtub, he gave in to her for a few wonderful, desperate moments, but as she pulled her head away to take a breath before assaulting the skin of his face and neck he caught a glimpse of her eyes and stiffened.

Ben Forder's words from that afternoon rang in his mind, as he reacted to the glimmer of red in her blue eyes, the color almost purple in its intensity. The being behind those eyes wasn't his Scully, it was a stranger. The recognition of the strangeness in those all-too familiar eyes terrified him, and he reached up instantly to grasp her forearms and force her away from him. She growled as he pushed her down, hands raking across his forearms in an attempt to bring him back to her. But he was just able to pull free, and sparing only the seconds it took to turn on the cold water, he was on his feet and out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

As Mulder reentered the bedroom, Michelle was throwing Scully's suitcase and clothes out of the smashed window, laughing/crying hysterically. Grabbing her from behind, Mulder yanked her back from the jagged glass edges, causing her to drop the handful of underwear that had been clasped in her hands. Turning in his grasp, her fingers reached for his eyes. Ducking his head to the side, he seized her wrists in an iron-grip, causing her to cry out in pain.

"Michelle!" he yelled, pinning her hands behind her back, trying to force her head up to look into his face. When her eyes seized upon his face, she went slack, her grimace breaking up into a smile of triumph. Pivoting on her heels, she arched her body up against his, rubbing her pelvis against his. He moved backwards, but she was insistent, managing to reach his chin with her mouth, licking at his skin with her tongue. Fed up, he released her hands long enough to grab her waist and throw her over his shoulder. Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and held on tightly as he carried her across the room, still trying to decide what to do with her.

Just as he crossed in front of the bathroom door, it opened, a soaked and furious Scully bursting out. Taking full advantage of his size and strength, Mulder charged at her, using Michelle like a battering ram. Her feet knocked out from under her, Scully went down with a gurgle, while Mulder stepped right over her and deposited Michelle in the tub, wrenching himself out of her eager grasp. Pivoting on his heels, Mulder leapt over to scoop Scully up and re-deposit her on top of Michelle in the tub which was partially filled with ice-cold water.

As they both struggled and wiggled, trying to get back to their feet, he yanked on the faucet, turning the cold water to full blast.

"Aaaah!" both women cried out as they were hit by the freezing downpour, sliding back down the drenched walls to sit huddled in the tub. Mulder threw them both an unsympathetic glance, his breath coming in short gasps, his side feeling like someone had struck him with a red-hot poker. Hoping that he had shocked them enough to quiet them for a few moments, he ran for his bedroom, seizing his handcuffs off of the bedside bureau, then racing back to throw a despairing glance around the wrecked bedroom, praying for a sign of Scully's pair. Aha! He spotted the shiny metal cuffs laying just under one of the bedside tables, and leapt over to grab them, then ran back towards the bathroom just in time to meet both women as they flew into the room.

Grabbing Scully first, he locked one cuff around her left wrist, threw her onto the nearest bed, wrapped the links through the heavy wooden headboard, then locked the other metal cuff around her right wrist. Drenched, Michelle watched him with darting eyes, her breath coming in short gasps. When he left the bed and turned towards her, she grinned mischievously and raced around him, leaping around the room just out of his grasp, until with a sudden shift to his right, he reached out a long arm and caught her around the waist from behind. Struggling wildly, she managed to bite into his forearm as he closed a cuff onto her wrist, then she abruptly melted, turning to offer him her other wrist, purring up at him suggestively. He grimaced, fighting her attempts to kiss him, pushing her over to the other bed. She went willingly, reaching up to pull him down with her, but he quickly locked her wrists to a thick mahogany bed post and pulled away. Then he escaped into his own room, slamming the door behind him and slumping to the floor.

Cradling his side, he tried to gather his wits, forcing himself to ignore the screams of outrage emanating from the other room. This time he really was on his own.

The house was silent and empty. Mulder edged his way along a dim hallway, eyes jumping from one shadow to another. Resting against his side, his gun was clasped tightly in his right hand, while his left hand trailed along the wall. The floor creaked under his feet, and he froze in place, his breath held deep in his lungs. No sound came to his alert ears, and he relaxed enough to draw in a rasping gulp of air. Angling his head to glance behind him, he then began to work his way slowly down the hall.

Unnoticed behind him, Alison peeked out of a half- opened doorway. Still wearing the long red robe, hair falling like spun-gold over her shoulders, she moved like a wraith, her feet barely touching the floor. Waiting until he had gone several feet down the corridor, she glided out into the center of the hallway and spun to retrace back along his path.

Slowly moving in the opposite direction, Mulder reached the corner. Pausing before he walked out onto the central balcony, he sensed motion behind him. Pivoting on his heels, gun thrust out before him, he peered back down the length of the hall. A flash of red teased the edge of his vision and then was gone. Rubbing his eyes, he stood motionless for a moment, then closed his eyes as if in pain, and took a deep breath. There were answers somewhere in this house. He wasn't going to stop until he found them.

Deep in the room hidden within the massive curving staircase which wound around the center of the house, seven girls stood in a circle, waiting, heads bowed, hands clasped between outstretched arms. A mere whisper of a breeze rustled through their hair, but it was enough. One small girl with thick black curls cascading over her shoulders lifted her head and stepped out of the circle, which instantly flowed inwards to reform. Violet eyes sparkling, she purposefully exited the room and climbed the stairs.

Starting from the first floor, Mulder began an exhaustive search of the house, his nerves becoming frayed by the deadly silence. He felt as though he was utterly alone; except for the creaking of the boards under his feet and the whisper of his own breath, there was nothing. The kitchen was dark and empty, all signs of dinner thoroughly cleaned away. The fireplace in the parlor was still and cold, the light from the streetlamps only barely filtering through the windows to throw a sickly pale- yellow glow across the shapes of the furniture.

In the depth of the quiet, the soft sobbing was an explosion of sound, causing Mulder's heart to skip a beat. Then he was running, thrusting the parlor door out of his way as he raced towards the small figure huddled on the bottom of the stairs. Gun still gripped tightly in his hand, he reached for a small lamp and turned it on, his dark-adjusted eyes blinking in response to the sudden flood of light.

"Hhhelp me," a thin weedy voice cried, followed by a series of wracking sobs. A young girl was sitting on the bottom step, her arms wrapped around her legs, her face buried in her knees. Her curly dark hair was tangled around her red-robed shoulders, her feet were bare.

Holstering his gun, Mulder lowered himself to sit beside her. "What's wrong?" he asked gently, tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered in response like a wounded animal, without responding.

"I'm here to help," he said as reassuringly as he could. "I won't let anyone hurt you. You're safe now." Her sobbing slowed, then stopped at the gentle sound of his voice. Encouraged, Mulder again placed his arm around her shoulder. With a sharp intake of breath, she turned and clutched at him, wrapping her arms around his chest.

"That's okay," he said awkwardly, smoothing the top of her head with one hand, holding her against him with the other. "You're okay now." He held her briefly, though inwardly he felt frustration mounting. Finally her pulled back and prodded her face upwards towards his.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Maria," she replied, her violet eyes focused unwaveringly on his face.

"Maria," he smiled at her. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"They..." she stuttered, then seemed to regain her resolve. "It was supposed to be an initiation rite, in the secret room. It was my turn tonight, and they all said it would be easy. And everything seemed okay, a bit weird, but kind of neat, until we got into the room. Then they tried to take my robe off, and I saw the chains." A tear dripped down her cheek. "They were going to chain me to this thing, it looked like some kind of altar, only it was red, and there was blood on the floor. They were going to hurt me, I know it! And when I protested, they all laughed at me. They just kept pulling at my robe and laughing and laughing..." With another sob, she buried her head back against his chest.

"It's all over, Maria, I promise. I won't let anyone harm you." He waited until she had calmed down again, then he looked gravely into her eyes.

"Maria, where is the secret room?"

"It's in the staircase. There is a hidden door in the library on the third floor, which opens onto a thin wooden staircase that goes under the big staircase. You go down it, and there's this big iron door that Yvonne has a key to. She wears it on a chain around her neck."

"Good," Mulder rewarded with another smile. "Now you'd better leave things to me. Where is your room?"

"On the second floor, in the middle," she pointed up the stairs.

"Okay, I want you to go into your room and lock the door. Don't come out until I tell you it's all right."

She nodded and got to her feet beside him. Together they climbed the stairs and walked to her door. "Be careful" she warned as he was closing the door behind her.

"I will," he replied, "Now lock the door." She gave him a weak grin, then pulled the door the rest of the way shut. He waited until he heard the click of the lock, then turned and raced up the stairs.

As soon as his footsteps could be heard on the landing above, the door slid open and she peeked her head out into the hall. At the sound of the library door creaking open above, her elfin features lit up into a mocking smile.

Michelle and Scully both struggled against the handcuffs trapping them to the beds. Kicking at the mattress, Scully let out a screech of frustrated fury, that was soon echoed by Michelle. Twisting her head to the side, Scully spit at the other woman, yanking against the stubborn metal links holding her back. Michelle returned the glare, her eyes rolling wildly in their sockets, the blue effused with red.

As they continued to struggle, the door slid open and Alison glided into the room. Coming to a halt between the beds, the willowy blond girl watched the two disheveled, dripping women writhe against their bonds, the corners of her red-lipped mouth tilting upwards in a smile of triumph. At the sound of another angry cry, this time from Michelle, Alison stepped closer and issued a quiet command.

"Silence!" Both women stilled instantly and stared at the intruder with rage-hazed eyes.

"Sisters, sisters, you must not fight each other," Alison soothed in velvet tones. "The time has come for you to be set free of all the bonds upon you. Come," her hands slid upwards, almost as though lifted on a string, her fingers pointing towards the two women. A gust of wind burst through the open window, as both pairs of handcuffs clicked open, then fell to the pillows, releasing Scully and Michelle. They sat up slowly, each rubbing her wrists, each staring out from under a tangle of hair.

"Come!" Alison's voice was peremptory as she fixed them both with an imperious stare. In unison, they nodded, sat up on the beds, then stood up side by side. Her satisfied smile returning, Alison turned and led the way out of the room and down the hall.

Finding the hidden staircase was not difficult once he knew what to look for. Easing the door open as quietly as possible, Mulder peered down into the darkness below, wishing he had taken the time to get a decent flashlight out of the car. He listened for a long second, then seized hold of the banister and placed his right foot down onto the first step. At the sound of the wood creaking under his weight, he stopped and listened again. Then the next foot was placed, and then the next. One stair at a time, he edged his way down into the silence, every nerve tingling, every sense at full alert.

But even prepared as he was for whatever he might find below, he had not expected the sudden attack from above. A hard shove in the small of his back and he tumbled forward down the stairs, his cry of surprise absorbed by the thick walls.

Grasping out one hand, while the other cradled his head, he managed to clasp his fingers around the banister and slow his fall. He ended up sprawled across the bottom steps, head downward, legs splayed out above him. Drawing a deep breath, he rolled on his side, using the banister to support him, as he fought his way to a crouch. Pupils wide in the dim light, he stared around furtively as he found himself surrounded, the small familiar figure of Maria above him, three more girls below.

"Maria?" he whispered up at her, eliciting a slow grin, that edged the corners of her mouth upwards but did not touch her wary eyes. As her smile widened, she cocked her head to one side, then drew her lips back into a snarl.

"Get him!"

Pointing his gun warily at three of the girls, Mulder felt his stomach sink into the pit of his abdomen. He didn't want to hurt the girls, and from the look in their eyes, they knew it. Ever so slowly he edged down off the stairs and into the small antechamber, keeping the heavy weapon trained at the girls facing him. As he stepped forward, they slid backwards, the smiles plastered on their faces. Movement behind him, and he pivoted on his heels. Again there was movement behind him, this time accompanied by an echo of a giggle, and he swung around, only to come to a halt as he realized he was effectively surrounded.

His expression impassive, he stared coldly at the nearest young woman, the gun pointed at the center of her chest. She met his icy darkened gaze with equal calm, taking one small step towards him, then another, and then another. He tightened his grip on the gun, his jaw clamping in frustration, as the seven closed the circle around him, until he could feel their breath on the back of his neck. He remained motionless, gun held out at arm's length until the pretty brunette facing him had pressed her breasts up against the muzzle of the gun. He heard the whistle of the breath in his own lungs, felt the blood pounding through his veins. He didn't want to shoot, he didn't want to harm these kids, he didn't...

The gun clattered to floor as the tall man went down under the combined weight of the seven girls, a cry of pain escaping his lips as his elbow and knees collided with the stone floor. Four surprisingly strong hands seized his left arm, four more closed around his right. Kicking out for all he was worth, Mulder managed to knock one girl into another, sending them both sprawling onto their backs.

The seventh girl grasped onto his right ankle and clung, while he pushed against the floor with the one free limb. She fell forward as he abruptly bent his knee, and off balance, she unprepared for the impact, when he slammed his other foot against her side. With a grunt she fell to the floor, releasing his foot. But before he could take advantage of the sudden freedom, the four holding his arms began to pull backwards like a tug-of- war team, dragging his resistant weight across the floor. His feet fought for purchase, but the stone surface was slick and even, providing little friction.

When they pulled him through the doorway, he used the edge of the wall as a lever, crooking a foot around the doorjamb. At the unexpected tension, two of the girls stumbled and fell, releasing his arm in the process. Unfortunately, they had been the force keeping his head up off the floor - when they let go, he crashed downwards, striking his right temple. He screamed as his forehead hit the solid stone, then collapsed and lay still.

The girls picked themselves up and came to kneel around him. One reached out to roll him onto his back, causing him to groan aloud in senseless pain. Satisfied he was still alive, they went into action, working in unison to lift him up off the floor and carry him over to the altar. Draping his lanky frame over it, his head almost hanging off one end, his thighs resting on the opposite edge, they padlocked his wrists and ankles. Then they reformed their circle and stood silent and motionless. Waiting.

Alison led the way down the hall and across the landing to the library, the bedraggled Michelle and Sculy trailing behind her. Both pairs of blue eyes unfocused, their feet dragging with each step, the two women had the appearance of sleep-walkers. Alison turned to smile at them as she ushered them into the library, then pointed to the door, still half-obscured by a heavy bookcase, that opened inward into the dim inner staircase.

The two women collided with each other as they followed her instructions, the impact stimulating an instinctive renewal of hostilities.

"Stop!" Alison's voice rang out over the hissing screeches of the combatants pummeling each other on the floor. A handful of Michelle's hair in her hand, Scully angled her own head back to hiss at the interference, but Alison was adamant. Gliding over to stand over them both, she commanded them sternly.

"Enough, sisters. Your pain cannot be ended by fighting each other. It is time for you to join us. What you both desire will be given you soon enough. Now come!"

Both eyed her warily, but felt like they were swimming in a hot red haze, the burning violet of Alison's eyes and the dominant tone of her voice their only anchor. Simultaneously, they clambered to their feet and followed her down the stairs.

A pounding hammer struck behind Mulder's eyes again, and he moaned, trying to reach out and push it away, but he couldn't move his hands...

His eyes blinked open, his awareness abruptly coming to a focus.

"God damn it!" he swore viciously as he found himself chained to the altar, several pairs of eyes watching him with unconfined amusement. Not again...not bloody again...

Clamping his mouth shut grimly, he closed his eyes and vowed silently that from this moment on he would shoot first and ask questions later. He was so sick and tired of being the victim that he couldn't feel anything more than simple fury - no fear, no worry, no doubts, no questions - just pure and simple, white-hot rage. Never again...never again...

The soft whisper of footsteps on the nearby stairs broke into his thoughts, and his eyes opened to find Alison standing over him, the rumpled, disheveled figures of Michelle and Scully framing her. The younger Genero looked angelic, her blue eyes sparkling, her golden hair framing her oval face like a halo. The other two looked like they had been though a mud-fight, which perhaps they had. Muddy streaks and small cuts oozing blood covered their faces and arms. Scully's pajamas top was ripped across one shoulder, baring the top edge of a breast. Michelle's white blouse was not in any better shape, and her skirt was hanging from one hip, torn on the other side from the waist down.

"Scully?" he breathed in shock, trying to meet her eyes, desperate for some sign - any sign - of awareness in her eyes. But there was nothing behind those bloodshot blue eyes, at least nothing he could recognize.

Alison laughed in response to his whisper, reaching down to sweep the dark strands of hair off his brow, exposing a large, already purplish bruise.

"Dana," she said with emphasis, "Dana is no longer yours to use and control, yours to use and abandon at your whim." Mulder grimaced more at the sound of her voice than at the words, though he catalogued them instinctively - recognizing immediately that the voice was not Alison's. It was different, deeper and thicker. The words were lilting, sing-song and tinged with a flavor he couldn't identify. Somehow, they were...old.

"Who are you?" he questioned, his voice sharp and defiant, but all he gained for his effort was another musical laugh. Not breaking the contact between his eyes and her own, she uttered a soft-voiced command.

"Prepare them."

Most of the activity was out of Mulder's line of sight, as much as he struggled and twisted against the chains. He strained to hear as much as he could, but the girls seemed to move like ghosts, their bare feet sliding noiselessly across the floor. He could hear a few rustles and gasps in the corner, the barely audible voices rising and falling, but nothing more.

Then, as quickly as they had melted away, they reappeared. One by one, they reformed the circle around him, arms outstretched, hands clasped, red satin robes shimmering in the flicker of the candlelight. But this time, Michelle was with them, her tattered and drenched clothes replaced by an identical robe, her hair brushed to fall in a shimmering gold waterfall over her shoulders, her eyes fixated - blank - as she stood at Mulder's feet. Tipping his head backwards, he found Alison standing directly behind him, her milky skin glowing eerily, her mouth drawn wide in a mockery of a smile. Her eyes met his for a moment, then glanced upwards, her lips drawing even further back over pearly-white teeth.

Despite the feeling of dread pressing on his chest, he followed her stare and watched as Scully stepped past Michelle to enter the inside of the circle. Dressed like the others, her fiery hair matching the red of her robe, she glided towards him until she was standing by his side.

"Scully!" he spoke in an urgent whisper, his eyes seeking contact with hers. But there was no response from her lovely, but empty features. "Dana!" he tried again, but again there was no answer, except for the slow hum that emanated from the surrounding women. Leaving Scully with him, they began their circular dance, the sound of their chant echoing against the walls.

Around and around they went, each step taken in perfect synchronicity, until he was nearly dizzy from watching them. Resting back down, refusing the humiliation of further helpless struggle against the unyielding bonds, Mulder concentrated solely on trying to reach Scully. He fixed his dark penetrating glare on her face and waited - hoping for even the slightest sign of the woman he knew and loved.

The seconds seemed to stretch into eternity, although it was hardly more than a few breaths before Mulder began to feel a cold chill working its way through his body. The candles started to flicker wildly as an icy breeze whispered across the room, toying with the girl's hair, lifting the hems of their robes. Their shadows twisted on the walls, the sound of their voices rose higher and higher until they crashed back down into silence. At that same moment, the dance stopped dead in its tracks.

Mulder's eyes never wavering from his partner's face, he sensed the motion as Alison walked around to stand on his opposite side. He didn't need to look at her to feel the power emanating from her, it was like being close to a roaring fire. His skin felt like it was being scorched by her nearness.

"Come sister," she commanded, her voice no longer containing even the smallest taste of Alison's normal tones. It was a strange sound, throaty and strong, but with an echo of bitterness and rage that Mulder felt as keenly as a whiplash.

"Come sister," the voice rang again, "Free yourself of the bonds men would place upon you. Free yourself of their demands, of their betrayal. Take this man as he would have taken you, to use and to abandon. Then sacrifice him as he would have sacrificed you, your blood and that of your children running red over the stone floor. As mine did so long ago. Set us free sister, set us free, set us free..." The others picked up the chant and carried it, hissing the words in endless repetition.

Remaining silent, Scully climbed up onto the altar, settling herself down onto his chest, her knees resting on either side of him. Her mouth bent in an unfamiliar smile, she leaned down over him until she claimed his mouth with hers. Fighting both her and himself, he yanked his head to the side, but she seized his chin and forced him back.

Not like this, he thought desperately. All the unspoken dreams, the unstated desires, the hopes for the 'someday' in which they would be safe and free to speak the feelings that ran so deeply between them, all were crashing down around him as she devoured his mouth, using her thumbs to press his lips apart.

"Nooo!" he groaned, as she thrust her tongue deep into his mouth, the sound swallowed into her throat.

He struggled valiantly, but he was as trapped by the instinctive reactions of his own senses as he was by the chains confining his limbs. He wanted Dana, as he always had, from the first moment he set eyes on her lovely face. As fiercely as he had denied it, there had been instant recognition that here at last was what he had spent his life searching for - here was the other half of his soul. But he knew that the woman now biting at his lips was not his Dana; that though the shell might be hers, the soul was not.

Each time she freed his mouth, he would gasp for breath, then cry her name.

"Dana, Dana, Dana, Da..." until she would hungrily, demandingly, silence him again.

His body was warm and solid under hers, his skin like living satin under her tongue. She wanted, wanted...

"Dana!" the voice tugging at the edge of her consciousness was insistent, wavering in and out, but never stopping. Shaking her head, she thrust it away, enjoying the rush of heat through her body at the feel of his heart beating beneath her probing hands.

"Dana!" it came again, and she tried to close it off. She didn't know any Dana, her name was Elizabeth. She was Elizabeth Fryer-Davies, she was...

"Dana!" Two faces swam in front of her eyes, one fair- haired, blue-eyed, the chin hidden by a honey-colored beard, the other clean-shaven with green-tinged brown eyes and black hair. "Evan," her heart cried, pain echoing down a long corridor of time. But another voice within her, no more than a murmur in the wind, spoke another name.

She shook, blinking, and forced the second voice away. But it was stubborn, strong. It fought and pushed, responding to the deep, insistent voice that screamed a stranger's name.

Suddenly, her body shook and convulsed above him, her head snapping backwards towards the ceiling, a long, slow cry breaking free from her lips.

"Dana!" he yelled again, straining against the chains instinctively, seeking to give her what aid he could. But he was trapped, leaving him confined to watching her writhe above him, her eyes rolling back until nothing but white showed, her mouth dribbling saliva.

"Dana, Dana, Dana..." all he could do was repeat her name, praying desperately, as he watched her literally struggle with herself, arms flailing against each other, her hips jolting up and down on his belly. His eyes dilated with astonishment as her body began to rise above him, the loose-fitting red robe rustling around her as she floated upwards. Her legs unbent, stretching out behind her as she hovered in the air above him, facing downwards, arms flailing in mid-air.

She shook in waves of tension that would start at one end of her body and race across her entire frame, each nerve ending firing in sequence, one after another, like an electric current racing down a power-line.

Dana could feel the other pushing her, fighting her, building walls of darkness around her awareness. Her body felt like it was on fire, the limbs out of her control, while her mind felt violated. She could feel the other's rage pulsing within her own veins, the other's pain choking her breath, the other's domination forcing her back downwards into black nothingness.

"Dana!" a familiar voice echoed on the edge of her awareness, and she reached out for it. Felt it brush her with loving, tender strength.

"Dana!" it called again, this time buoying her on a flood of images, sounds, sensations: a strong male hand cradling her cheek, strong arms encircling her as she cried, a piercing pair of hazel eyes looking deeply into her soul, the demanding, seeking voice calling her name.

The other hit her again and she wavered.

"Dana!" the voice lifted her up.

"No!" she shrieked, somehow finding the strength within herself to strike out at the intruder. Together, the two minds, two stubborn wills, locked into combat, two opposing forces circling each other, striking and being struck, battling fiercely, trapped within the confines of a single mortal frame.

The two minds hit and bounced off each other, struck, then fell back, pounced then withdrew. Dana felt like she was going mad, her only life-line the echo of the voice calling her name - a third, though distant presence, always on the edge of her awareness, always there to catch her when she tumbled downwards towards the easy darkness. She held to it with every last bit of strength she had, using it to pull herself upwards to continue the seemingly endless struggle.

Finally, her strength drained to the point she could barely focus on more than existence itself, she tightened herself into one small pinpoint of light and threw herself, all that she was, had been, and hoped to be, at the intruder. They collided in a blinding flash, engaging in one last final struggle for domination, wringing an agonized, shattering cry from the body caught between them. It jolted upwards, then collapsed downwards to fall limply across the man chained below it, the top of its head hitting his chin, then bouncing down to rest upon his chest.

"No!" Alison's voice was filled with fear and frustration as she reached over to yank Scully's head back by her hair. Scully's head fell sideways for a moment, like a rag doll, then abruptly moved. One fist rang out, slamming Alison on the side of her jaw and knocking her to the floor. Then Scully was moving, climbing down off the altar, to grab Alison and hit her again, and then again. The younger girl screamed in pain, then collapsed in a tangle to lie at Scully's feet.

At that same moment, a violent gust of wind blew through the room, extinguishing all the candle flames at once, leaving only a trickle of light from the half-open door. Then the door itself flew shut, slamming loudly into place, leaving the room in total darkness.

Scully stumbled back against the altar, hearing Mulder's gasp as her hand came down hard against his abdomen. Grasping onto him to support herself, she felt her legs collapse out from under her.

"Mulder..." her voice was no more than a whisper, but it was more than enough for him.

"Scully," he whispered, tears of relief stinging his eyes as he felt her head fall limply onto his chest, then slide across him as she crumbled to the floor.

The room fell into silence, the thick, heavy quiet of the eye of a hurricane, the air heavy with moisture and static charge. Then the quiet was ripped apart, as a voice cried out in unintelligible fury, accompanied by a nearly blinding flash of pure white light.

Blinking hard, Mulder peered through clenched eyelids as Michelle slid forward to stand over Scully's limp form.

"Get up!" she commanded, in a voice Mulder realized with growing terror, was the same one he had heard from the still unconscious Alison.

Barely conscious, Scully used the chain tying Mulder's nearest hand to the floor as leverage to drag herself to her feet, not noticing the sharp intake of his breath as her weight nearly pulled his arm from its socket. Releasing the chain and staggering like a drunk on unsteady feet, Scully looked up into Michelle's pale features. A gasp of shock emanated from her swollen lips as she saw the cast of another face slowly forming over the other woman's features, green eyes overlaying blue, thick waves of reddish-brown hair swirling over gold, peach- toned skin mixing with ivory.

"Elizabeth." The name escaped Scully's lips with sudden certainty. "You are Elizabeth."

"Yessss," the voice seemed to emanate from the air itself.

"Why are you doing this?" Scully asked, hysteria threatening to bubble out of her throat. "Why!?"

"He must pay, they must all pay. We must break free...free...free..."

"Who must pay?" Scully pushed, gripping the altar with white-knuckled hands.

"My father, Evan, all the men....they used me, used us all... Sisters together we can fight, make them pay for the children..." Michelle stepped closer to Scully until they could feel each other's breath. "Why do you fight me sister? You must know, you do know - I saw what men have done to you."

Scully took a deep breath and shoved out at Michelle's body with what little strength she had, rushing away from her to come up hard against the brick wall. Pounding her fists against the wall, she felt again the memories pounding her. Donnie Pfaster kneeling over her, Duane Barry hitting her, flashes of nightmares, shadowy figure hurting her, doing things she didn't, couldn't, wouldn't remember.

"Help me!" she screamed, terror flooding her senses.

Sensing victory in its grasp, the voice sounded again.

"We are alike, sister. We have both suffered so much," New images mixed with the old: her childlike voice crying in pain, "Don't hurt me Daddy," the image of a blond bearded man striking at her, knocking her backwards, causing her to tumble down the stairs, incredible streaks of pain arching though her abdomen.

"Yes, yessss, now you see. Dana, sister, join with me. Together we can make them hurt, together, together." The voice filled her mind, seductive, compelling, drawing her closer and closer....

"No!" She pounded the wall harder, seeking the pain that crashed outwards from her bruised hands, using it as a barrier. Then she spun around, and faced the spirit with defiance.

"Enough." This time her voice was low and calm. "You cannot control me, and you have no right to control these girls." A blast of wind tore at her as the shimmering face covering Michelle's grew stronger, its lines defining, sharpening, the mouth contorting into fury.

But Scully was angry too, her words lashed out at the semi-substantial spirit.

"You are no better than the men you condemn when you use these girls as instruments."

"They came to me willingly, they are my sisters."

"No," Dana contradicted bitingly. "You are destroying their lives. They are not your tools, they have lives, choices of their own to make. You cannot live through them, your time is past."

"You are wrong!" Elizabeth refused. "My time is now, our time is now!"

"Your time is long dead. You are long dead. Go, begone, you are not welcome here!" Scully took one forward step with each piercing word.

"Stop!" Elizabeth's voice rose in a shriek. "I will not leave, I will not go. They must pay. I must..."

"You must leave." Scully was adamant. "You have no right to possess these girls, no right to make our choices for us. No right to cause pain to the innocent. The men who hurt you are dead and buried, as are you." Fighting the instinct to cringe in response to the shrieks of pain and rage that pounded at her head, Scully continued to fight.

"Go, Elizabeth, go back." Scully fought for the words, pushing at the insubstantial, the unreal, with all her might. Her Catholic upbringing suddenly swinging to the fore, she raised her hand and pointed at the wavering ghostly face. Drawing on every last bit of ragged strength, she found herself commanding it, "In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, I bid thee gone, unworldly spirit. Trouble the living no more, I bid thee in the name of God Almighty. By the light of heaven, I command thee to be gone. In the name of Jesus, I commend thee to thy rest."

A violent scream rent the air as a gale-force wind nearly tossed Scully backwards into the wall. Around her the bodies of the girls collapsed into a