A/N: I have got together with a fellow X-Files fan (My best friend Ella) and we have decided to create a new fanfic. We are taking it in turns to write chapters soit is mine up first. We hope you like it
Dana Scully walked along the dark city streets. She could hear noises behind her but she was too freaked to turn around (not that she would ever admit it).As she continued cautiously she reflected on the past few days. She remembered exactly what she was thinking that first day when her life was endangered and how they had got into it. It certainly was an X-File, but even more so than the usual stuff they came across. This was bigger and more powerful than that Mexican goat sucker they had faced a few years back, and Mulder knew it. This was an all American danger. A vampire. She remembered the icy touch of his white fingers on her neck and the sweet smell of his breath on her cheek. As he forced her head to his chest she remembered the empty silence that should have been filled with a heartbeat that had long since disappeared. This was hard enough to believe but when she saw the sharp little teeth aimed towards her, she knew her scientific knowledge would serve her no purpose here. Science had nothing to do with it. This was more human than human, yet, more monstrous than anything either of them had ever come across before. He was immortal, a body stuck in existence for ever. He despised himself and the uncontrollable thirst that he always succumbed to. Scully saw this, and, to her surprise she actually felt remorse for him. She knew he only did what he did because he had no control over it. It was terrifying, but it was a part of nature, no so well known nature, but nature none the less. This was not something he had asked for. He was only in this situation because he had run. He escaped one death, only to have another inflicted on him. He remembered exactly what had happened that night, even though it was 600 years ago. He had been to a horse race, as he left to return home he took a shortcut, down a long, dark alley, much like the one he was following now. He looked out of place in his long expensive coat and crisp white shirt. He was wealthy but it did not affect his outlook on life. He knew how cruel it could be, how badly it treated some people. He thought he knew. But he was about to find out just how bad it really was. As he walked someone grabbed him from behind, by the time he had realised that someone was there it had been too late. He felt a sharp pain on the left side of his throat and then another on his left wrist. The last thing he was aware of was the third sharp pain in his right wrist. Adrenaline had kicked in by then. He was strong and managed to fight the other man off. He ran, ran like he had never run before. This was where he had made his fatal mistake. If he had stayed and let the man kill him he would have been in peace by now. He would have been exsanguinated and died like anyone else. But he ran. As he ran he knew he had escaped but he felt something cold run through his veins. It was like someone had just injected him with icy water. He had no idea what was happening to him. As he staggered home he wondered what would become of him now.
******
He found himself on his living room floor in the morning. He felt terrible, fluey; he dragged himself from the floor and tried to remember what had happened the previous night. He remembered flashes, nothing concrete. He moved over and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was terrifying. Red eyes and china white skin. He had no idea what was wrong with him. It was something he had never come across. Had he not known it was himself staring back at him, he would have more likely run away hysterically. He went upstairs and took a long bath. He was sure it would help if he freshened up. He got out of the bath and put on a clean shirt and trousers. He stepped out of the house, and without his new appearance he would have felt great. Instead he felt wrong; there was something he could not put his finger on. He went into the woods situated behind his home. As he walked, he saw a man, no-one familiar probably someone come to visit or pass a message on to someone. He stopped and stared at the man. A feeling he had never felt before pulsed through him, a need. Like a craving, but stronger, he needed something from this man, from any man, any human. Blood. He knew it straight away. Without thinking about it anymore, before he questioned himself anymore he pounced just as the man approached. By the man's reaction it looked as if he had not even noticed him standing there. By the time he did, it was too late, just as it had been for himself. He drained the man dry in seconds and, when he had finished, he had the uncontrollable urge to run away. He did so and found himself back at his home. When he got back home, he sat and contemplated what he had done. He had just done something he had never heard of before; he had killed a man and drank his blood. What he had forgotten is, he had in fact heard of this before. This was vampirism at its best.