Title: Trick? or Treat?
Author: Drovar
Written: November 1999
Rating: PG-13

Summary: Mulder tricks Spender -- or is that treats?

Notes: Humor and mildly slashy. This story is pretty late, but I thought I'd post it anyway. Thanks to BethLynn for beta.


Spender held the small bag carefully in one guantleted hand and ripped the thin paper open with his teeth. He tipped his head back and dumped a cascade of brightly colored chocolates into this mouth, before crumpling the candy wrapper into a ball and tossing it toward the waste paper basket; pumping his fist in the air when it landed inside with a satisfying 'pfft'.

There was something about Halloween that made him feel like a kid. Probably dressing up in costume and overloading on sugar. He had to admit the costume shop that Scully recommended did an outstanding job with his costume. He was dressed from head to toe in chain-mail armor, with a rampant griffin tabard across his chest. It was authentic, if clumsy. Armored gauntlets might be fine for chivalrous duels or slaying dragons or whatnot, but they made raiding the trick-or-treat bowl more than a little awkward.

He was about to strip off one mailed-glove and do some serious candy perdition when the doorbell rang. Spender snatched up the bowl, straightened his costume, and ambled to the door. He hoped this group of trick-or-treaters was a little more traditional than most of the others he'd seen tonight. By the 20'th Darth Sith or Maul or Mall or whatever, he was ready for some run of the mill witches in pointy black hats or sheet-ghosts with the eyes cut out.

Spender stooped over slightly and opened the door, ready to meet the next little candy hoarder face to face. He got the sheet part right at least. But, instead of covering the head of some local candy-monger it was draped around and over a pair of lean masculine hips.

"See any thing you like Jeffrey?"

Spender closed his eyes and sighed. He knew that voice.

"Mulder what the hell are you doing here?" Spender straightened up quickly, balancing the candy bowl against one armored hip.

"Trick or Treat." Mulder replied with a wide grin. He held up a tiny pumpkin trick-or-treat basket, meant for a child. He gave the pumpkin a quick shake; a few pieces of candy rattled around the tiny container.

"Trick or Treat," Mulder repeated.

"Mulder?" Spender asked as he finally got a good look at Mulder's costume. "What exactly are you supposed to be?"

"It's a toga, Mr. Deduction," Mulder said turning around to give Spender a good look. "Made it myself."

"Mulder, you made a toga out of a Garfield sheet. Geez I hope nobody saw you come up here. I don't want the neighbors thinking I've got weird friends."

"It's the only extra one I had handy, and besides, you don't have any friends."

"Ha . . . ," Spender replied with an acrid smile. "Now what do you want? Really."

Once again Mulder held up the tiny pumpkin. "Trick or Treat."

"Fine, fine, whatever, as long as you go away." Spender said beginning to paw through the candy bowl. "What do you want? I've got SweetTarts, Sugar Daddies, M & Ms, Rolos . . . ."

The cellphone sitting on Spender's coffee table began to beep.

" . . . . Sugar Babies, Snickers . . . "

The cellphone continued to beep.

"Hang on, let me get that," Spender said. He retreated back into the apartment and set the bowl down as he fumbled with the phone. After several frustrating attempts, Spender finally got the phone flipped open.

"Hello."

He paused; there was no response.

"Hello?"

He could hear something on the other end of the line; a faint rustling noise, people talking, wind maybe? But, no answer.

"Hello?!"

Just as he was about to snap the phone closed Spender definitely heard someone on the other end.

"Hello??!!" he shouted.

"Trick or treat," the phone whispered.

"Mulder?" Spender glanced over his shoulder at the now empty doorway.

"What are you up to?" He continued. Mulder was likely to do anything, literally anything, and this being Halloween, he wouldn't put anything short of Armageddon past his office partner.

The phone line went dead. Spender hit the call-back code. What the hell was Mulder doing?

A recorded voice informed him that the number dialed was not currently in service. He swore under his breath; Mulder had turned his phone off.

Spender snapped the phone closed letting it fall from clumsy hands with a rattle and clatter. He turned to the door, intent on putting "Way Too Spooky Mulder" out of his mind, and preparing for any lingering ghouls or goblin-munchkins. There, sitting on the coffee table, where his candy bowl sat moments ago, was Mulder's tiny pumpkin . . . empty.

"Damn."

Spender grabbed his keys from the stereo and donned his armored coif, he might as well stay in costume. As an afterthought he picked up the costume sword on his way out the door. Pity it was only ornamental, it'd break before he'd finish administering the beating Mulder was going to get.

He slammed and locked the door, swearing over the wasted time. This was going to cost Mulder big time. He stepped onto the elevator, nodding with a smile to Mrs. Willshire, a neighbor.

"Yes Ma'am, that is a most flattering costume you have on." He said as he pushed the lobby button.

"No, I don't imagine there'll be many other 87 year old ballerinas out tonight." The elevator descended in silence as Spender pondered how to exact his revenge.

Spender bowed as the door opened, and charged through the lobby, dodging around assorted costumed celebrants, none of them wearing a toga with fat orange cats all over it, and out onto the street. The area was busy with revelers. The tenants association was hosting a Halloween party and the street was filled with people. He stopped and looked around hopelessly, over the sea of costumes, they were everywhere.

Finally, hi spotted Mulder far down the street, a glimpse of a sheet lost in the crowd. With grim determination Spender straightened his tabard and set off after the candy-thieving miscreant.

He caught up quickly. Mulder was strolling along nonchalantly popping handfuls of Sugar Babies into his mouth. Spender watched as the brown treats dropped into Mulder's upturned mouth one after the other.

"Mulder!" Spender yelled.

The other man turned with deliberate slowness. He grinned at Spender and continued chewing.

"You thief," Spender said. He drew his sword and set the tip of it to Mulder's chest. "If I were really a knight I'd slay a filthy swine like you where you stand."

Mulder arched one eyebrow at the man with the plastic sword.

"Don't get your loincloth in an uproar Jeffrey," Mulder said. He turned to the side and without a glance handed the candy dish off to a surprised reptilian looking thing, with big floppy ears and an enormous tongue. Gar-Gar or Jar- something Spender vaguely recalled, from that big Star Wars movie he still hadn't seen.

"Hey," Spender protested, "That's my trick-or-treat candy."

"Never mind that now, Jeffrey, " Mulder said. He grabbed Spender by an armored elbow and pulled him down the street. "I want to show you something."

Spender protested to the best of his ability, but once Mulder got fixated one something it was best to go along or get out of the way. Those that didn't seemed to end up in the hospital, or a silo, or even shot by their partner or father.

"Where are we going?" Spender asked finally. He was resigned to whatever cruel fate awaited at this point. At least he'd like to know what manner of disaster loomed in the darkness.

"You'll see," Mulder replied as he turned off onto a narrow side street.

"Mulder!" Spender protested again, "There's nothing down this street but the old brick church and the . . . *graveyard*." Spender felt a chill gallop up his spine, and canter around his brain. Not that he was afraid of cemeteries; he was a rational man after all. But somehow Mulder and graveyards on Halloween night seemed a very dubious convergence of spookiness. He had no idea what Mulder might be up too, that thought frightened him indeed.

Mulder only grinned and pulled him on faster. They were at the graveyard in a few moments. Spender had to admit the placed looked damn creepy. The graveyard lay at the base of a hill far below the surrounding neighborhood. A lone street light in front of the abandoned church cast a pale mercurial light that provided just enough glow to cast long tombstone shadows.

A small stream -- more a drainage ditch, lay along the outer edge of the cemetery. Spender could hear water rushing past. A heavy mist shrouded the little valley adding an utterly supernatural feel to the old place.

He did pause at this point. Was he absolutely certain that Mulder was up to some harmless fun? His psychotic episodes were well known. He'd attacked Skinner more than once, and had been institutionalized at least twice. Maybe this really wasn't such a good idea.

Mulder called for Spender to hurry up, and headed into the graveyard. He quickly disappeared amongst the headstones, lost in the mist and darkness.

"What the hell," Spender shrugged, squared his shoulders and followed, sword ready -- just in case.


A dark figure emerged from the mist as the two men moved deeper into the cemetery. It stood silently, watching, hidden deep in the shadows as they passed, then dissolved back into darkness.


Spender finally caught up to Mulder at the doorway to a large mausoleum. It was far from the rest of the plots, deep in the back of the cemetery. The fading remains of English ivy nearly engulfed the structure, making it seem more a part of the landscape than part of the cemetery.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" Spender asked as Mulder cleared ivy from the entrance.

"There's something I want you to see,"

"In a graveyard?" Spender took a step back. "Mulder, there's freaky and weird, which isn't unusual for you, but this is sacrilege or something."

Mulder shrugged and pushed the door open. He stepped inside leaving Spender standing in the deserted graveyard, alone. With a weary shake of his head Spender stepped forward. He was going to hell for this, and he was pretty sure Mulder would outrank him there too.

The inside of the mausoleum was already dimly lit, and surprisingly dry. The light came from a pair of candles on a shelf next to the entrance. Beyond the dim candlelight the rest of the building lay in pitch-blackness. Spender was about to call out when he heard something. He took a step into the candlelight and peered into the darkness.

"Mulder, come out here where I can see you," Spender said. He took another hesitant step forward.

There was another sound in the darkness, closer this time.

"Mulder?"

A mass of shapes rushed out of the darkness. He caught glimpses of things his mind tried to sort out even as they collided and fell to the ground. His sword clattering away uselessly. It was Mulder, with blood dripping down his torso, and something else, large and human-like clinging to his back and gnawing at his neck. The creature was pale and draped in black, and looked somehow, however impossible, familiar.

Somewhere amidst the tangle of bodies and blood someone screamed.

Spender fought his way free, the armor made him slow -- fear made him quicker. As he jumped to his feet the 'vampire' looked up from Mulder's neck.

"Nice girly scream there Jeffrey."

"Krycek?"

Krycek barred his fangs and did a credible vampiric hiss.

"You bastard," Spender said as he searched the ground for his sword. Somebody was going to get a thumping for all this.

"Don't get your cod piece in a twist Jeffrey," Mulder said from where he lay beneath Krycek, fake blood dripping from his chest. "You didn't piss yourself, I don't think, so you're not gonna rust."

"I am *not* wearing a codpiece!" Spender objected. He picked up his sword, considered his companions for a moment, and sheathed it.

"Really?" Krycek said, eyeing him speculatively. "I had no idea you were so -- 'heroic'.

Spender stood and looked at him for a long moment, his emotions and sudden thoughts fighting their way to the surface, then a sly smirk crossed his face.

"Ever wonder what they wear under those toga's Alex?" Spender asked as he knelt down close to the two men still tangled together on the floor.

"Well, now that you mention it -- why don't we find out?" He looked down appraisingly at Mulder, and flashed a feral smile.


Jamie Todd didn't believe in ghosts, not really, not like his little brother Mikey. It had taken him all evening to convince Mike to sneak out of the house with him, and visit the old graveyard. It looked awful weird, and he began to wonder if it was such a good idea after all.

"Did you hear that," Mike said suddenly. They were at the top of the hill, not far from the back door of their house. Jamie could still see the light from the kitchen if he craned his head far enough.

"I didn't hear nothing," Jamie replied with as much scorn as he could manage. He was 12 almost a teenager. Mikey was only 8, and still a baby.

"Well I did, I bet it's a ghost."

"There's no ghosts, you stupid baby."

"I'm not . . . "

A sudden piercing wail stopped the younger boy's protest. They both froze. A second moan, drifted up from the valley.

"Oh God, Oh God, Gahhh!"

"See I told you it was a ghost," Mikey turned to the spot his brother had just been and heard the back door slam. A shrill call floated up from below

"Oh Yeah, Oh God!"

The back door slammed behind Mikey moments later.


Jeffrey Spender stopped as he stepped into the office he shared with Mulder and Scully. He was early. He'd already setup the coffee and was about to get a jump-start on the day's paperwork when he saw it. Sitting on his desk was a large orange bowl with trick-or-treat printed on the side. It was full of candy. He sat down and stared at it. The bowl was his all right. He plucked out a package of Sugar Babies and grinned.

"Trick or Treat" he said to himself and grinned before emptying the bag into his mouth.

 

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