The two men reached the building. As the basement door creaked open, the smell of death, decay, and embalming fluid wafted up. Mulder gagged; his instinctive reflex a step backwards. Brandon shoved him forwards, following him down the black stairwell.
"I can't see." Mulder muttered, pausing after only a few steps. Brandon sighed, recalling that his all too human prey had minimal night vision.
"Hold on to me." Brandon said firmly, taking the lead. Mulder glanced towards the outline of the door and freedom.
"I will go back for her." Brandon threatened, watching the emotions play out on Mulder's face. Resignation was the last, and Mulder grasped Brandon's shoulder. They tread down the stairwell, pausing once to open a hatch in the floor. The stench faded to only mildly displeasing, as either the distance or adaptation diluted its strength. As they continued down, Mulder idly counted the steps; eighteen, nineteen, twenty... When they reached the twenty-third step, Brandon paused. He flicked a switch, and a woefully inadequate 60 watt popped on.
Mulder looked around. A casket in the corner lay open and inviting, a fluffed up pillow accenting the satin lined interior. A small wooden desk and chair sat against the far wall, laptop computer humming happily in the center, bookshelf full of dark clothes teetering to the left. A chiseled cement doorway led to the bathroom, complete with a rusty showerhead and stained toilet. That was it. The entire 20 by 20 room.
Brandon ignored him. Walking over to the desk, he turned off the screensaver and checked his e-mail.
"You've got mail!" The chipper voice of the computer said, reverberating in the silence. Click, click. After a few minutes of computer keys clicking, Mulder slid down the wall, sitting semi-comfortably in the corner. An hour later, Mulder's eyes would hardly stay open, and he yawned, stretching his jaws as far as he could. How could he even think about falling asleep? He was waiting to die, after all. He shook himself awake and stood, forcing circulation back into his legs.
Brandon grunted and punched the off button of his computer. He stretched and turned, working the kinks out of his shoulders. Glancing at his watch, he grimaced.
Mulder stood stock-still, hoping against hope that Brandon wouldn't be hungry tonight. His hope went unfulfilled.
"How about a pre-dawn snack?" Brandon asked rhetorically. Mulder swallowed hard and pressed into the corner, heart rate speeding up. The vampire strode towards him, blocking the rest of the room from his view. Mulder looked up into his sea-green eyes, waiting for some mystic force to overwhelm him. It never came.
Instead, Brandon's pointed fangs pressed into his jugular, piercing through like a pair of oversized needles. It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt. Every beat of his heart jostled the fangs just enough to send a fresh shock of agony through his body. It took all his will not to fight. Scully, Scully, Scully, ScullyScullyScullyScullyScully… He repeated her name over and over again, reminding himself what the pain was for.
"Scully!!!" He cried as the man's teeth pulled from his throat. Gulping for air, Mulder struggled to stay upright. He didn't succeed, and he felt his body topple over like a Ponderosa pine.
Brandon caught him, dragging him into the bathroom. Exposed piping provided Brandon with a handy place to cuff Mulder's wrist. Mulder looked at his handcuffs in confusion.
"Why?" He rasped, voice barely audible.
"Why the handcuffs? Quite simply, I don't trust you. Oh, I know you wouldn't run off, not if you know what's good for her, but I do think you'd kill me if you had the chance, and I don't plan on giving it to you. As for why you're still alive, well, you're like a sweet dessert; too rich to make a meal of, but delectable a little at a time. You'd better get some sleep; you're going to need it." Brandon finished, yawning.
Flipping off the light, he clumped heavily towards the casket and plopped down with a deep, satisfied sigh.
"Nighty-night." He called sarcastically, but Mulder was already gone.