Present Tense

by Emily and Dr. Ruthless

Disclaimer: The Fox Network and 1013 own the characters, but we actually value them.

Rated: A - Slash, brutality, non-con, assorted unpleasantness.

Pairing: Alex Krycek/Dustin Yarma

Series: 1. For Services Rendered, 2. Future Perfect , 3. What You Get For Loving Me , 4. Out of the Frying Pan, 5. Into the Fire, 6. Present Tense, 7. Extremis

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The days dragged by. Nobody had attempted any further rape, and Dustin began to heal. He'd developed a series of exercises pulled together from the combat techniques that Marita had shown him, and from a couple of videotapes that he'd found in the library. He wasn't sure how much help any of it was going to be to him, but he had to try. He had his knife safely stashed away in the bedroom that they'd allocated to him following Pyotor's death, and he waited for something to change, knowing that when it did, it would most likely be for the worse, rather than for the better.

Spender walked into the house, dismissing his chauffeur peremptorily. He couldn't wait to see his new son. He saw more fire in him than Alex had displayed in a long time, and he was attracted to it. He wanted to make it, to make Dustin, his own. To break him as he had Alex, and see him bent to his will.

He smiled grimly as he stopped in his study, passing the room where he kept videotapes of Alex and himself. Since Alex was a little boy, he had made and saved home movies covering every, even the most intimate, aspect of Alex's life.

He walked into Dustin's bedroom without knocking. Dustin's back was turned towards him. He stood in the doorway, a small smirk on his face, puffing on his cigarette.

After a beat, he said, "Hello, Dustin. I trust my people have made you welcome and treated you with the utmost respect?"

Dustin, who had been reading a book, turned around very slowly, gripping it tightly as he attempted to compose himself ready to face Alex's nemesis.

"Respect? Oh yeah. They surely have. I'd like to thank them all for the night that big leather bastard broke in on me and raped me. Nothing else has quite lived up to that, yet. What's the encore going to be?" He stood up, laying his book down behind him on the chair and padded towards the Smoker. "How is Alex? I want to know that he's okay."

Spender frowned histrionically. "I am sorry about Pyotor, Dustin. But you must understand, if Alex hadn't been so insolent towards me, I wouldn't have had to take such... regrettable measures." He inhaled a long drag, then, with a blink of his eyes that seemed to say, 'you see how it is, guys. I had no choice in the matter,' he exhaled in Dustin's direction.

"Alex is with Habibi now. I expect he's all right, as long as he's behaved himself."

Spender walked in, uninvited, and stood face to face with Dustin. He looked into his eyes. He saw hate there... hate, defiance... and something more. He blinked, and waited to see what Dustin would say or do.

"Can I speak to him? I'd be so grateful." Dustin lowered his lashes in a gesture that invited complicity. "I really need to know how he's doing." Turning, he walked to the window, looking out over the windswept lawn at the leafless trees. "He's the most important thing in my life."

Dustin said no more, merely stood and waited for whatever response might come. Inside, he was quivering with a desperate desire to scream.

Spender walked over behind Dustin, leaning in close to speak directly into his ear.

"Of course you can. Did I not promise you that you could? Tell him to be a good boy, and maybe he'll be returned to us ... whole." He laughed, and produced a cell phone. He punched in a number, and waited.

When it was answered, he said, "May I speak to El Habibi, please. Yes... "

"Haroun? How good to hear your voice! How is Alex doing? Are you finding him quite to your liking?"

As Dustin listened, his breath caught in his throat at the sound of the old man's words. Alex must at least still live, or Spender would not be chatting so happily. He froze, attempting to hear the words that were being uttered at the other end of the line. Would Alex be there?

"Please?" he whispered, strain showing in his husky voice as he willed the old man to get Alex for him.

"Alex is most definitely the jewel in my collection, Mr. Spender. I should thank you once more for supplying him to me. I am finding him most satisfactory." The voice was very faint but Dustin could make out the man's speech well enough. His heart leapt. At least Alex still lived.

"Good, good. I'm glad to hear that. Tell me; is he available to speak? But first, how is your project going?"

"The project continues well. We have the hybrid clones in stasis pending an analysis of their tissue. It is to be hoped that the virus we introduced has been able to merge with their DNA. My pet is here with me. He may speak with you for one minute, no more."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate it." Spender smiled at Dustin, holding up a finger.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Alex was standing beside his new master. The collar he wore was chafing his neck. Though he hated wearing collars, he didn't dare say anything. Over the past three days he had been forced to service El Habibi in the most degrading and humiliating ways, and he felt he might snap at any time. He had tried to act as a good catamite should, demure and amenable, but there was a streak of the rebel in him just under the surface.

He looked at Habibi out of the corner of his eyes, then lowered them quickly as Habibi turned towards him, bowing his head demurely.

Spender had taught him his role here well.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

As Dustin craned his neck, he heard the honey and gravel voice of his lover emanating from the phone. . He quivered with impatience as he waited for the phone to be handed to him. The vile old man was taunting him, taking his time, knowing how he longed to speak to Alex. Balling his fists, he tried to hold back from punching Spender.

Spender smiled cruelly. "Alex. I have someone with me who wishes to speak to you."

, Alex answered, dully, "Yes?"

He inclined his head as El Habibi held the phone to his ear and mouth, placing a hand on his master's chest to show his submission.

Dustin took the phone, feeling a thrill rush through him. Alex. It was Alex on the phone and he would be able to make sure that he was still whole.

"Alex? Talk to me. Are you okay, love?" His voice caught and he waited, desperate to hear Alex reply.

Alex suddenly felt weak. It was Dustin - his Dustin. El Habibi didn't know that, though. At least he didn't think he knew that. But as he thought of it, it was entirely conceivable that... he took a breath, willing his voice not to shake. "Yes, I'm all right. I'm fine." Oh, Dustin, he thought. How glad I am that you can't see me now, in this humiliating outfit I have to wear, and in this collar... Dustin! It was his Dustin on the phone! "How... are you?" he managed, trying to keep emotion out of his voice, yet wishing he didn't have to, hoping Dustin would understand.

Hearing the guarded tone in Alex's voice, Dustin was instantly aware that his lover was unable to speak freely. "Baby, are you being overheard? Are you hurt? What can you tell me, love?"

Just hearing his voice was wonderful. Alex was still alive. He sounded unhappy, but maybe, just maybe they would survive, and perhaps they would be together once again. "I love you, baby. Stay focused, and we'll get through this."

Alex drew in a shuddering breath. Dustin! Dustin was so strong, and he felt so weak right now. He bit at his lip to keep from saying the first words that came to mind. Fixing his eyes on his sandals, he spoke neutrally, hoping to sound as though he was talking to no one special. "Yes. No, not really... no, I don't... I can't tell you that."

He closed his eyes, trying to imagine Dustin kissing him, holding him. "Please..." he whispered, softly and unconsciously. "Oh, please..."

He needed his lover's strength, his fire. El Habibi hadn't made a move to geld him yet, but he knew it was still in the offing, even though he had been as good and as pretty a boy as he knew how. The thought made bile rise in his throat.

"I... yes, yes." Hold me, Dustin, he thought. Please, hold me... keep me afloat. Help me... don't let me stay here, please, please... He sent these thoughts to Dustin silently, along with intangible caresses and kisses. Love you, God I love you.

"Are things... all right with you?" He kept his voice even, although he knew the Smoker was with his love, probably even touching him. He had to bite his lip again to keep from crying out in rage and pain. "Are you well?"

"I'm okay, baby. I'm fine." Dustin tried really hard to think of something that he could say to Alex that would make his lover feel better. There had to be something. The Smoker was leaning against the wall beside him, smiling his cynical smile. I want to punch his face and wipe the grin away, thought Dustin. "I killed Pyotor for you. He deserved to die for the things that he did to you. Since then nobody's been near me."

"What? " Alex nearly lost his composure. Dustin, killed Pyotor? No one could kill Pyotor. He was too big, always there; he would hurt you if you tried to... "No, no, it... can't be," he breathed softly. "Don't... let them..." Fuck! What could he say without giving anything away? By his tone Dustin meant him to be happy, but instead he felt sick. "Come back after you..." he continued, under his breath. He leaned back against the table for support, but Habibi had slipped behind him and he fell against him instead. Too petrified to move or say anything, he simply drew in a ragged breath. Where was Marita?

"I did it, love, He'll never hurt anyone again." Dustin could see from the Smoker's expression that he didn't have much more time. As he saw the old men gesture that he should finish, he hastily whispered, "I love you. I'll always love you, Alex." When at last the Smoker held out his hand for him to pass the phone, he felt his sinuses fill with tears that he couldn't shed.

Spender put the phone to his ear. "As you can see, my boy, he still loves you and needs you very much. You wouldn't... do anything to further jeopardize him, would you? And yes, by the way, he did kill Pyotor. Though whether for you or because he was being brutally raped, I can't say. Perhaps I should send you the excellent video I'm assured we have of it."

Alex felt his knees wobble, and a tear well in his eye. "No." To keep from raging, dug his nails into his palms, but he still let out a soft, low-pitched cry. To cover himself he turned to Habibi, burying his face in his robes, and wrapped an arm around the foul man. Even if he was vile, he hadn't... He leaned into Habibi, opening and closing his eyes, fighting for control.

Spender clicked his cell phone off, smirking at Dustin.

Dustin gritted his teeth, counted to ten, and then he drew a deep breath. Showtime, he thought to himself. "Thank you for letting me hear his voice, sir. It was kind," he said. If he had to be polite to this monster for the sake of his lover, then that's what he would do. Alex deserved everything that he could give him. "Believe me, sir, if it hadn't been for Alex, there's no way I'd have been able to kill that bastard, Pyotor." Spender put an arm around Dustin in a fatherly gesture. "That's all right, my boy. You're quite welcome." He appreciated Dustin's show of respect, and the way he'd called him sir, though he knew he had to be seething inside. He'd seen the flicker..."You don't think you would have killed him on your own?" Spender frowned, genuinely confused. This was a man of spirit and vengeance, a quicksilver. Why would he have needed Alex, to kill Pyotor? "What do you mean, son?"

Dustin could feel his skin crawl as the Smoker drew close to him. Softly, Dustin, he thought. Don't undo the good work. You've got him guessing now. The longer you keep him guessing, the better off we'll be. He turned to face the old man.

"Until Alex, I was a fairly ordinary guy, I guess. I would never have thought it possible that I could do damage to someone as big and malicious as Pyotor. If he'd raped me, I'd have folded, there's no question of that." He drew in another long, deep breath. "Alex showed me the value of strength, sir. He had to be broken. You couldn't ever have coerced him to anything. He's the brave one. You are nothing beside him, and no matter what you do to him, he will still be my love."

Spender drew back his hand and slapped Dustin across the face, raising welts with the force of his blow. He stepped back, glaring at him. "I'm nothing? Nothing, Dustin? Alex does what I wish, nothing more. You want me to prove it to you? Show you some movies, perhaps?" He drew out his lighter, and lit a cigarette. "You're a producer, Dustin. How would you like to attend our own private film festival? Oh, very much indie films. World premieres, you might say." His lips twisted into the familiar cruel smirk.

"I can show you what he is... and how he got that way." He exhaled, a smug look on his face.

Dustin's heart thumped. Perhaps this would shed some light on what had happened to turn Alex into the groveling child he had seen when he'd first arrived in DC. If he could see what had been done, he might be able to extrapolate how to undo it once more.

"I'd be most interested to see the show, sir. I'd be most honored if you were to remain at my side and interpret what's happening so that I can understand what the purpose of it might be." He touched his cheek, feeling the heat from the place where the Smoker had struck him. "Violence is always the easy option, sir. Who's to say if there might not be a better way?"

"My beautiful boy." Spender drew Dustin to him, kissing him on the cheek, then dropping a kiss on his lips. "You are quite right. Oh... my pretty one. Where have you been all this time?" He positively glowed. Dustin's reply thrilled him to the core. Someone else who appreciated mind games... one he could teach. And then destroy. He wasn't a child, no, but that made the challenge so much more thrilling.

He squeezed Dustin's shoulder as he stepped back. "Good, good," he said jovially. He might have been a studio head accepting a movie deal. "Can I expect you in an hour, then? I'll have someone fetch you."

Every hour that passed was an hour closer to freedom. You'd better believe it, Dustin, he thought wildly. The kisses had unnerved him a little. Resisting the urge to scrub at his lips until the skin bled, Dustin smiled, intentionally seductive.

"I'll look forward to it, sir." Inside his mind, he was rehearsing for the day that his knife would cut out this bastard's heart. He would offer it up to Alex on his return.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Spender sat on the couch in his office, a stack of videos in front of him. He took a drag on his cigarette, waiting for Dustin. He would allow him to choose the movie he wanted to watch first.

Dustin - so like Alex and yet not like him at all. Well, of course he wasn't like Alex - he'd never been captive before. Or knew true privation. He carried himself like a Siamese that had been pampered all its life and expected nothing less.

He was going to enjoy this.

A sound in the doorway caused him to look up. "Ah. There you are. Come in, come in! Would you like a drink?"

Dustin had dressed with care, and made himself as pleasant as possible. He considered having something alcoholic for Dutch courage, but he knew that he would require all his wits about him for this coming ordeal. He smiled faintly at the Smoker, and shook his head.

"A coffee would be good if you have it, but I'm not a drinker, thank you," he replied, and stood looking around, wondering if he could sit somewhere out of reach of the old devil with whom he was about to spar.

Spender laughed. "I know you drink, Dustin. You forget, Mackey's been an employee of mine... so to speak... for a long time. You can be quite the drinker. In fact, wasn't it drinking that got you in trouble?"

Coloring up, Dustin managed a calm response. "I vowed that I wouldn't drink alcohol any more after what happened to me," he said, referring to the death of Tara and Minnow's subsequent disruption of his life. "I don't ever want to lose control like that again. Once is enough." He darted a glance at the stack of tapes that the Smoker was guarding. "Is this Alex's whole life on tape?" he asked, facetiously.

Spender smiled. "Parts of it. There's more, should we get through these. Or should you get through them, I should say. I've seen them before... many times. Choose one, Dustin. Where would you like to start? What do you wish to know about?" He smiled teasingly, theatrically indicating the tapes. "Or see. Do you want to see him learning to please? Or maybe you'd like to see some of the techniques we used to brainwash him. They are part of the same thing - they go hand in hand. It's really rather fascinating to watch. Go on, my boy. Select a tape." Gritting his teeth, Dustin stood, debating his answer. Finally, he frowned. "I can't decide. Maybe you should choose for me. You know the order in which you did things. Only you can know what I need to see." He moved to a corner of the couch and sat on the edge. "Why don't you pick the first one? I'm willing to be entertained."

Spender frowned. He'd wanted Dustin to choose, and reveal what his draw was. What interested him. Well, maybe he knew the game as well. Ah, so. Nothing he couldn't use to his advantage, that.

"Well, I think you know better than I what you need to see. But, very well." Smiling an indulgent smile, he took the first tape off the stack and put it into the VCR. "This was when Alexei was about 12. He hadn't yet been to the gulag. The occasion was a diplomatic gala for some Middle Eastern UN dignitaries. The purpose - Alexei's purpose - was to get us something on tape with which to blackmail certain of the 'guests of honor.' Watch now. He really does an excellent job... see how he looks inviting, serving drinks in his nice suit, and then later..." He couldn't hide a smile. "Well, you'll see." He walked over to the couch, and sat a few feet from him, smiling the smile of an indulgent father.

A much younger Alex was there on the screen, sleek and elegant in a summer tux, passing through a group of similarly attired men, offering trays of hors d'oeuvres and drinks to the assorted crowd. Slim and straight, the boy could only have been around 12 years old, and his quick movements were graceful as he threaded his way amongst the guests.

From time to time he would vanish into a room behind the bar, and Dustin observed that men would follow him in. At no time did the smile leave the boy Alex's features.

On the screen, the Smoker, younger, appeared beside Alex, handed him a piece of paper and whispered to him. He led Alex behind the bar briefly, and when they returned he patted Alex's shoulder.

Alex smiled back and began scanning the crowd, obviously looking for someone. Spotting him, Alex picked up a drink, heading towards a man in a white tux, a look of satisfaction on the pretty features. The man leered, taking the drink Alex offered. Alex whispered to him, and the man nodded. Alex dropped his eyes enticingly, and the man's smile grew.

Beside Dustin, Spender sneered. "He used to so enjoy this. When he was good, we rewarded him... we let him kill."

Dustin blinked. "You taught him to kill? How...how old was he?" Watching the quicksilver little boy, he was half charmed and half horrified. How could anyone have done this to him?

"He killed that man some time later, actually. Yes. I showed him the thrill of using one's anger. Hiding it behind a mask, a facade, and then... then he could let it go. But Alexei... Alexei grew to enjoy killing too much. We needed to rein him in. He once killed a man he was to ... charm. You can understand we couldn't allow that." Spender smiled thinly. "He soon learned to control his... impulses." "What did the man he killed do to him?" Dustin asked him. "He must have been afraid. Have you ever done the things that you forced him to do?" The horror of Alex's plight seemed to be a fiction. He couldn't bear the thought that it might really have happened. Alex was his, and precious.

"Afraid?" Spender asked. "Yes, Alexei sometimes became afraid. Despite my assurances that I would always care for him, and keep him safe from harm. You want to know what the man did to him? He tried to rape him, after Alexei had already serviced him. Maybe you'd like to see the tape?" He looked at Dustin curiously. "Have I ever done what things? Why would I? Alex did those things. It was his purpose."

"You promised to keep him safe from harm. Allowing someone to rape him after such a promise is hardly keeping your word to him." Dustin shook his head. "I really don't understand why you would allow such a precious weapon to become a dull blade when you could have kept him sharp."

Chew on that! he thought, malevolently. Sheer anger at this evil old man, who had abused his love throughout his entire life, rose up in his throat to choke him.

Spender grabbed Dustin's shoulder, forcing him to look at him. "Dull? Alex is sharp. The best weapon I have. I created him, and nothing can dull his edge. That is why he will succeed... why he will return. And why I can never let him go."

Onscreen, the party had finished. Maids and waiters were cleaning up the house. The scene cut to Alex's room. He sat on the bed, knees to chest, hugging himself. Spender stood over him.

"Please... please don't make me. You say I like it but I don't... why do I have to do this?" Alex was saying through his sobs, in a high, thin voice.

Spender sat beside him. "My pretty one, everyone has his skills and aptitudes. This is yours, and you excel at it. Now, buck up. Stop your tears, and that'll be the end of it. There's a good boy."

On the bed, Alex sniffled a few last times, then turned towards the wall, clenching and unclenching a fist.

"You told me that he was no longer any use to you. Now you tell me that he's sharp and that he's the best weapon that you have. I don't understand your intent. All I see is that you hate him, and enjoy causing him distress." Dustin sat back against the cushions of the couch, frowning as he watched the boy on the screen lying, lost and alone, with nobody to turn to.

"Hate him?" Spender blinked. "Hardly. I love him with all my heart. He's going to save the world, you'll see. Or at least have a large part in its salvation. He just needs to be disciplined. When did I tell you he was of no use to me? I need him very much. You might say the future of the world depends on it. I love him dearly, Dustin. You must believe that." Spender actually looked hurt.

"If you love him," said Dustin carefully, trying his best to betray no emotion, "Why do you take joy in hurting him? Love isn't like that." The boy on the screen seemed so small, and so alone. Dustin tried to imagine how life must have been for him.

"He is what he is," Spender replied.

Onscreen, Alex had curled into a fetal position, hugging his pillow, and sobbed quietly.

"If he were permitted... distractions... do you think he'd be able to carry out his work, fulfill his purpose as well as he has? He's done so much good as he is. I'm so proud of him."

Spender reached for Dustin, stroking his cheek. "Don't you see? He has natural aptitude. I only... provided an optimal environment. To shape him to what he must do."

"You rule him through fear, not love. If you showed him love, he never would have run from you. Don't you understand?" Dustin permitted the old man's touch, although his skin crawled. "Why would you do that?"

"Love is a distraction. It would take away from his purpose." Spender lit a cigarette, leaning back. "Love can make a man weak. I'm sure you know that. Alex does. Do you know you're not his first love?"

On the screen, Alex fell to sleep. A few minutes later, his door opened, and a man, a stranger, entered.

As Dustin watched, the sleeping boy was roused and abused. Horrified, Dustin watched the child that his lover had been seize a knife from beneath his pillow, and stab his tormentor until the man lay dead across his frail body. He shuddered as the boy broke down and sobbed in pain and terror until at last he fell back to sleep again, unable to move because of the weight of the corpse that lay over him.

"Why the hell didn't you help him?" He was dumbfounded at the boy's appalling plight'. If ever he found Alex again, he would never let him go.

Spender was smiling at the screen, obviously enthralled. "Because he was able to handle it himself," was the rapt reply. "Don't you see? Alexei needed to learn how to defend himself, and that he didn't have to put up with unauthorized intrusions. He needed some confidence."

Spender gazed at Dustin with the same intensity. "What if I'd walked in and prevented Pyotor from raping you? What good would that have done you?"

Dustin growled, anger pounding within his head. "He was just a little kid. How could you leave him so long with that... that thing on the top of him? Look at him. He... " Dustin gestured to the pitiful child cowering on the bed, sucking his thumb and whimpering. Onscreen, the door opened, and Spender walked in. He walked to the bed, pulling Alex gently out from under the body. He hugged him, stroked him. Kissed him softly on the cheek. "It's okay, Alexei... Daddy's proud of you."

Alex shook, standing in Spender's arms, raising large, frightened eyes. "I... I never killed before."

"No," Spender was saying. "But you will again."

Onscreen, Alex whimpered and looked at the man on the bed who had hurt him. He was obviously in shock. Spender drew him to his side, rubbing his back.

On the couch, Spender smiled. "Not so long. Just long enough."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The winter palace of Haroun El Habibi was richly furnished with rugs and cushions. The public rooms had western furniture in them, but the owner's private quarters were more traditionally furnished. Haroun himself half sat, half lay on a pile of silken cushions, smoking, and watching a series of servants disrobe for him. From time to time he indicated his interest, and the favored person would step to one side. The others left the room at his languid wave. There were three naked servants standing before him when his current favorite, Alex, entered the room and knelt at his feet, head pressed to the floor in obeisance.

Alex was wearing only the collar that was the mark of his servitude, and he glistened with the oil that had been applied to his skin.

Alex chafed inside. He didn't belong here, wearing this collar. He felt that if Habibi fed him one more sweet pastry, he would throw up. The oil was all right, but what came after... oh, what came after.

Alex rose to his knees with grace, keeping his eyes lowered, awaiting Haroun's judgment. He'd brushed his hair and filed his nails, painted his nipples and shaved his body to perfection.

"What is your command, Master?" His throat balked at the words, but they had to be spoken.

"Alex, my sweet. You are, as ever, a joy to me. I rejoice to see you looking as beautiful as the dawn over the desert. I desire that you should take these poor playthings that I have set aside for you and teach them some of the games that you love to play with me. Are they not perfect toys for your delight?" The obese sheik indicated the three servants, two young women and one man, who stood, uncertain.

Silently, Krycek rose to his feet. With feline grace, he walked over to the three, casting his eyes over them in turn.

The man was blonde, bronzed and tightly muscled, though small of bone. His fine features looked strong yet delicate. His eyes were the deepest blue; his lips were strawberry red. Alex decided that he was handsome. Perhaps, under other circumstances...

One woman was dark, with raven hair and brown eyes. Her body some would call pleasingly plump, a dusky hue that shimmered with oils. Her face was painted, and she smiled at him when he nodded to her.

He turned to the third person, a willowy blonde with glacier blue eyes. She was supple as a Siamese, tight as a bowstring. He forced his eyes not to roam her body, but focused instead on her lips. Making sure his back was to Habibi, he caught her eye. 'Marita?' he mouthed, taking the man and other woman by the hand.

Marita lowered her head in a submissive attitude, nodding as she did so.

Alex drew his hand down the man's chest, pulling the other woman towards him. "How did you...?"

"Shh," Marita said, swaying like an eel to music that suddenly sounded from nowhere. She danced towards him, passing a hand over his shoulders. "I arranged to be bought as a 'harem girl' in Thailand," she whispered as she passed. "Go with it."

Alex started to sway his hips, stunned. To hide his happiness that she was there at last, he pressed up against the young man, nipping at his neck. "What's your name, boy," he whispered gruffly.

As he stuttered out his name, Günter, Alex dropped to his knees before him, taking his penis between his lips so that his master could watch as he aroused the young man. He'd played this game before for the dissolute biologist, and knew exactly what was required of him. He knew that he would end up watching as his master possessed his playthings, and tonight was probably going to be lucky for him. He would likely not have to be subjected to the Arab's desires. The youth that he was titillating had now come to full erection and was beginning to pump his hips in his desire to finish. Alex withdrew from him and applied a cock restraint, then led him over to the cushions where El Habibi was seated.

Forcing the young man to kneel, knees spread out before the master, he returned to where the two women waited.

The dark haired girl came towards him, and he smiled, taking her hand and twirling her playfully. He moved his hands over her body, sliding to his knees once more to suck on her breasts. Slipping a hand lower, placing it between her thighs, he began to tease her to arousal.

When she stood before him, naked and filled with lust, he brought her over towards Habibi. He knew Marita was next, and he felt his face flush slightly in embarrassment. She was his friend.

"Kneel," he instructed the young woman, positioning her beside Günter.

Rising once more, he walked back to where Marita waited for him.

He knew her body, and he aroused her deftly, watching as her eyelids grew heavy and her skin flushed pink on the white. As he ran searching hands over her torso and down to part her thighs, her hands shadowed his, and he felt her press a heavy gold ring onto his little finger. As he buried his face in the moist folds of her flesh, he heard her breathe one word, 'poison,' and then she gave herself to his caresses, permitting herself to be led in turn to where El Habibi was now busily mounting the dark haired girl from behind, huge buttocks clenching and unclenching as he buried himself inside her.

Krycek felt as though he might throw up, watching Habibi rut into the young girl. He cut his eyes to Marita, mouthing "Go,' - as though he needed to give her any encouragement. He sank to his knees behind Günter, running a hand over his back and thighs. He looked at Habibi, seeing Marita stepping back only to be caught from behind and made to kneel by a stone faced guard.

Krycek's breath caught as Günter leaned back to kiss him, and he ran his hands over the perked nipples. Nipping at the youth's neck, he looked at last to El Habibi, and the miserable girl below him.

"Come, Alex, choose. There are all manner of delights for you. Which will you take for your own? The young man is perfection, and the blonde looks as if she would know a million ways to inflame a man's heart. Let me see you exert your skills on one or other of these beauties." Habibi was grunting now, his body jerking in short, punching motions as he drew close to orgasm. Alex watched as he emptied himself into the girl's body, and withdrew, wiping his spent cock on one of the silken pillows beside him. Alex looked from Marita to Günter, knowing that whomever he chose, Habibi would surely take the other. He instinctively went for Marita... she was his friend, and so delicate, fragile. Habibi would split her in two.

As he was about let Günter go, the youth caught his eyes. There was need there, and something more. Something that spoke to him through time...

The big man coming closer, closer. Alex is crouching in the corner, shaking. He has no knife; no one is around to help him. The man draws closer, ever closer...

My God, he's...

Turning back to Günter, Alex watched as Habibi leered in Marita's direction.

Marita moving under him, moaning softly

Krycek bit his lip at a sudden image of Habibi taking her, reaching out toward her again as Günter, trying one more time, licked his lips at Alex.

His reaction was swift, unmistakable. Krycek pressed Günter's shoulders, forcing him to kneel, chest on the floor. "Insolent boy," he spat as he positioned himself behind him, his stomach turning as he rammed himself home. The bile rose in his throat as he pounded his way to oblivion. He had to stop, but he couldn't bring himself to as his body, seemingly of its own accord, sped up its thrusts.

He saw the scene as if from above - himself, the boy, Marita, the girl, and Habibi. He gave a low moan as he thrust into Günter, hoping Habibi would take the girl again, not Marita, and...

Alex... you're hurting him. Giving back what was done to you. Good, good! Use your anger, feel it.

With a whimper, he pulled out of Günter, rushing to Marita, who put an arm around him as he knelt, bowing submissively, knowing he deserved whatever they might give him. Marita looked at him, concerned.

Alex looked up at El Habibi, and this time he didn't manage to conceal his hatred and anger.

He quickly looked down again, schooling his features into submission, but he knew Habibi had to have seen his insolence.

"Come here." The command was loud in the quiet room, and Alex knew for whom the command was intended. El Habibi snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor at his feet, indicating that Alex should take his place there. "I offer you the best in my palace, and you spurn my hospitality. You insult me, Alex." The fat man licked his lips in excitement. He had known that sooner or later this moment would arrive. "Go!" he said to the three that were crouched around, goggle eyed at the situation. "Leave us." El Habibi rose to his feet, stepping with great delicacy for one so gross, and placed a foot firmly against Alex's back, forcing him down until he lay groveling on the floor.

"There is only one way to assure myself of your loyalty, my love."

Krycek swallowed. Closing his eyes, he said, "I'm sorry, Master. I do honor you. I do. I just... I'm sorry." When Habibi was unmoved, he started babbling. "You know how you have a feeling for a second and it... you... don't mean things? Please, I'll be good. Please." He reached out for Habibi, stroking his leg softly. "I'll be yours. Just don't cut me. Please. Don't take my balls... don't geld me. I won't be any good for you then. Please, I need... please, Sir. I'll love you..."

He heard the stoking of the fire in the big fireplace and shifting of metal. He trembled.

"I promise to be good..."

The biologist made no comment, merely continued with his preparations. Alex clutched at the back of the man's robe, and his eyes widened. The ring that Marita had slipped on his finger - she had said there was poison. He wailed noisily, checking to see if El Habibi might be noticing his actions, and after he'd ascertained that the man was intent on heating up... instruments of some kind in the fire, he threw himself down onto the cushions so that his back was to his tormentor.

Slipping off the ring, he scanned it. There was a catch at the base, and when pressed, the top flew open to reveal a small pellet of some waxy substance. He knew what it was at once. He felt for one of the silken scarves that the dark haired girl had discarded, and folded it, then carefully took hold of the poison.

Turning back to the man that he knew now he must kill, he crawled to him on his knees.

"Sir, I was good for you. Didn't I give you pleasure?" he said, forcing a whine into his voice. "Let me show you. I can be better than any of those toys." He rolled up the man's robe until the fat genitalia were revealed, and then leaned forward to take the man's penis in his mouth, thinking grimly that this was the last time he would need to do this.

El Habibi permitted the act, smiling down at what he believed to be a thoroughly frightened slave. At Alex's prompting, he spread his thighs to allow Alex to pass his hand between them, the better to stimulate his ass.

Good, thought Alex, and deftly pressed the pellet of poison into the gross man's rectum.

The huge man looked at him, comprehension dawning in his eyes as Krycek moved back. "I won't belong to anyone anymore," he said, watching as surprise and horror overtook his tormentor. Habibi fell, heavily. Luckily he was near the pile of pillows and Krycek was able to position him in such a way that he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He turned, and found himself facing a guard. "The master needs to sleep," he said with authority.

The guard nodded. "He does... like to indulge."

Play the role, Alex told himself. "You're criticizing the Master?"

"No, no, of course not," the guard said.

Alex nodded. "Thought so..." Walking over to the pile of clothing the boy Günter had discarded, he picked them up and put them on. They were a tight fit, but he had to hurry.

He ran to the lab, and gathered Habibi's research papers, and also took a DAT backup of Habibi's computer hard drive that he had prepared in case this were to happen.

Running back towards the great hall, he thought of Dustin. Dustin would be proud of him, he knew - relieved that he hadn't let himself be cut.

He started looking for Marita, when a large man reached out from nowhere. "The Master is dead. You were with him last."

Alex twisted, feigning astonishment. "Dead? He was asleep when I left him."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Days went by, and Dustin was trying his best to discover what had been done to Alex during the strange and savage childhood he had suffered. He had no idea how he would undo the harm that had been inflicted on Alex, but he knew that if it were possible he would discover a way.

He'd watched tapes, hour upon hour of them, and seen how his lover had been brutalized by the men that were around him. He had resolved to ensure that as many of them as possible would reap their reward for what they had done to Alex.

He had seen nothing more of the Smoker, who had left early in the evening of the day he had come to show Dustin the first tape. Dustin didn't know where he had gone, and hoped that he was not with Alex, causing him further pain. In the meantime he'd plunged into learning everything he could. Malia had told him at breakfast that the evil old man was going to return this evening, and he heard the bustle of the man's arrival from his seat in the library.

Spender smiled grimly as he hung up his jacket in his study. He had had a busy day, and now he was looking forward to having some fun... and seeing his new son again. He had become entranced by him, and through all of the meetings he'd attended that day, he's imagined what he might do to the man when he returned home. So like his Alex, yet not like him at all.

Walking into the library, he was somewhat surprised to see Dustin there already. He smiled. "Hello, my boy. How have you been? Is there anything you need or want? Aside from Alex, I mean."

Dustin was reading and looked up as the old man approached. "Good evening, sir. I'm afraid that the one thing I want is Alex. How have you been?" He closed the file he'd been perusing and gazed at the old man. I guess it had to start sometime, he thought. Might as well be now.

He felt a thrill of fear travel through him as he sat, outwardly calm.

Spender crossed to the couch, inviting Dustin to sit beside him. "Come here, my boy. Tell me why you love my son so much, or why you say you do. What do you see in him?"

"I see love, and ferocity, humor and pain in him. I see a man who needs me, and who would fight to protect me. What more could I ever want?" Dustin smiled as he talked about his lover, and for the first time since coming to this house, his face was lit from within with the memory of his short time with Alex.

The old man put his hand on Dustin's shoulder, letting it slide down his arm. "When you see him broken, and crying... will you love him then? When you see him gelded and branded with another's name? He is weak, Dustin... he can't protect you." He leaned in to kiss Dustin. "But I can protect you..." He drew back when he saw that Dustin wasn't impressed. "I can protect Alex, too. Or make sure he suffers... it depends on you."

Shuddering inwardly, Dustin presented the old man with a bland face. He'd spent his professional life negotiating, and he knew that he would need all his skills for this game.

"I'm sure you can. I see how you already have. How precisely does it depend on me?"

Cupping Dustin's face, Spender brought his lips to his once more. "How much respect are you willing to give me... how well you do as I ask. That will determine Alex's experience. Come here, my boy. Let me taste you... feel you."

For a moment, Dustin permitted the kiss, even responded, forcing down the revulsion that he felt. He was about to embark on the journey towards saving Alex, and he must not weaken now. He allowed the old man to sample the sweetness of his mouth, and then drew away.

"Do you like what I have to offer?" He lowered his eyes, waiting for the outburst that he suspected would not be long in coming.

Spender pulled him close again. "Offer? You wish to give it? You know, I usually just take." He snorted. Finding that a part of him did enjoy the idea of Dustin wanting him, desiring to please him was somewhat disconcerting. He quelled the thought by running a hand down over Dustin's shirt, feeling the tautness of the muscles beneath.

"Come here, boy," Spender said gruffly. "Show me how accommodating you can be."

"I believe that this is to be a business deal, sir. You can certainly take, but it would be a hollow victory, and nothing new for you. Wouldn't you like a willing companion? One that would respond wholeheartedly?" Dustin smiled. There was a smile that he'd used for years to attract women to his side. He wondered if it would work just as well on the evil old monster he had set out to charm.

Spender paused, his hand hovering above Dustin's fly. The thought was disturbingly pleasing. He pondered for a moment. "If you give yourself to me... would it be more than business?" He wondered if the boy thought he could control him that way, try to take the upper hand. He pulled back and looked at him. "Do you desire me, Dustin?"

"I could desire you, if you were kind. If you proved that you cared for me. I respond to generosity and kindness, sir." Please, please let this work. Dustin made himself relax his jaw with a wrench of his will, and sat, smiling politely at his nemesis.

"You could desire me if I were kind." Spender chuckled softly. There was something he could hold to, he supposed. He looked at Dustin. "Then you never loved my son, if you would betray him so easily."

"You're wrong, sir. I love him more than anything. For him, to save him, I would be willing. Only for him. Will you give me what I crave?" He licked his lips invitingly, and lowered his lids again, looking at the old man through slitted eyes.

Spender felt his cock twitch as Dustin licked his lips. The man would be his, one way or the other. But he wanted this to be perfect... it could be perfect, if only he played it right. Careful, he told himself. Dustin is sharp, and he's been around the block a few times. "Will you give me what I crave, to ensure that I will do the same to you?"

Dustin flashed him a smile that he hoped would rock him back on his heels. "You know that I could be most grateful. If you guaranteed Alex's safety and well being... " He ducked his head a little, and licked his lips again. "If I knew that you were generous to him, why then I would be as generous to you."

He stood and walked to the window, looking out through the darkened panes to the moonlit grounds. The wind was gusting, and the shadowy trees were blowing restlessly. Alex is somewhere beyond those trees, and please God, may he still be alive.

Spender sighed and stood up, following Dustin to the windows. He put his hands on Dustin's waist. That smile... God.

He put his lips to Dustin's ear. "If you give me what I want, I'll never need to do anything to hurt Alex again." He smiled. If his plan went as he hoped... that would be truer than Dustin knew.

"You mean that you'll stop sending him off to peddle his tail for you to these obscene perverts that he's so afraid of?" Dustin clutched the windowsill as hard as he could to prevent himself screaming. Way to go, Yarma. He's going to say yes, and you're going to have to put out for him. Welcome to hell. At least you'll understand what Alex went through for all these years.

He turned to face the Cancerman, his lips so close to his cheek that he could have licked at the seamed skin. "Please say yes. It would be the most wonderful thing."

"Offer me your allegiance, Dustin, and Alex will be safe. You know what the offer is. Let me be your new Daddy, and Alex will be safe."

Dustin smiled a little sadly. "That sounds good. How will I be sure that Alex is safe?"

Spender moved towards Dustin, slipping an arm around him and pulling him close. "You can call him... talk to him. Like you did a few days ago. How would that be?" He leaned his head, and pressed his crotch against Dustin. "Do we have a deal, then?"

"I will be willing for as long as Alex is safe. If that is acceptable, we have a bargain." Dustin's heart was aching at the thought of what he had just promised, but Alex had to be safe, and there was nobody else willing to save him.

Spender smiled. "Good, good." He ran a hand over Dustin's shirt, smiling as he felt his arousal increase. He would take Alex's pet, make him his own, and then, when Alex returned... the thought brought him fully erect and he brought his hand up to cup the back of Dustin's head, catching his lips in a kiss and pushing him against the wall, grinding against him lustfully. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that... we wouldn't want any harm to come to him, would we?"

Responding to the kiss in a manner that he hoped Spender would take as shy, Dustin thought quickly. Breaking the kiss, he fended Spender off for just a moment. "When can I speak to him? How often?" This would be the defining moment. What would the disgusting old beast say?

Spender caressed Dustin. "How often would you like? If you are a good boy, you may speak to him as often as you wish." In that moment, Spender could have offered him anything. His lust overwhelmed him, as he thought of how he could have a new pet, and torture Alex with him. He would offer Alex's safety and eventual freedom, but Dustin would ensure he remained enslaved. "Tell me, son."

"Please..." Dustin breathed, not caring that his heart was on his sleeve. If I can just talk to him - check that he's okay... I'd be so grateful." The last was said with a slight gleam of humor. Come on, you old goat. Get on with it. Stop making me wait!

Spender took out his phone, mouth on Dustin's ear. "How grateful will you be?: he said, his voice raspy. He began pressing numbers. "Tell me..."

"How grateful would you like me to be?" replied Dustin, his voice sugar and brandy, seductive as he played the old man. "I worry about him. I'll be far more relaxed when I know that he's fine."

In answer, Spender pressed himself against Dustin again, unbuttoning his shirt and playing his hand lightly over the exposed skin. "Give yourself to me. Totally. Completely." He drew back, looking directly into Dustin's hazel eyes, smirking cruelly. "Fuck me, Yarma. Or more precisely, let me fuck you." He chuckled. "Don't tell me you didn't know."

I can do this; for Alex I can do it, Dustin told himself. "I kinda suspected that's what you'd want. Just let me talk to Alex first. Then I'll do whatever you want." Dustin held out his hand for the cellular phone. "I just have to make certain that he's fine."

Spender leaned in close. "All right. My Pet." He emphasized that last, handing Dustin the phone. "Just ask for him, my boy."

Alex sat at the table in Habibi's lab, looking at DNA samples and comparative analyses of what appeared to be mutations of the black oil DNA. He had identified three separate strains for sure. What the hell had Habibi been doing?

The phone rang, and he grabbed it absently. If it was for Habibi, he'd say the man was sleeping. "Hello?"

Taking the phone with trembling fingers, Dustin held it to his ear and asked for Alex. There was a pause, so long that he began to think that his lover had died, or left, or all manner of dreadful things. When finally he heard Alex's voice on the other end he could have burst into joyful tears, but he suppressed the roiling emotion within, knowing that his evening was going to be arduous.

"Alex, love, it's Dustin. How are you?"

"Dustin!" Alex exclaimed, pencil falling from his fingers. "I... I'm good! I'm just..." As his heart rate returned to normal, he realized that he must be with Spender to have gotten a hold of him. Unless the old man had had a Christmas Carol experience, which Alex found unlikely, he would not have given Dustin the number.

"I'm okay love... now. I... I solved the problem. You gave me your strength and took care of that... maybe saved someone, too, I hope." He paused, trying to think of what to say, to cover it in case Spender was listening. "The research is starting to make sense now, and may soon be completed."

He drew in a breath. He didn't care if Spender heard this. "Are you okay, yourself? All I can think of is you..." And his hands all over you, his... no, Alex wouldn't let himself think about that. He couldn't. "Are you all right?"

"God, Alex, I feel wonderful now that I know you're still okay. I haven't been able to sleep for imagining the worst. How long before you can come home? Do you know?" Dustin felt weak at the knees with relief as he spoke to his lover. Sinking into a seat, he ignored Spender as he drank in the voice of his beloved. "I love you so much; miss you so bad it hurts."

"Lover, don't you worry about me. It's nothing I can't handle. It's you I fear for. God, I love you!" He allowed himself to grin. "Do you know how good it is to hear your voice? How good it is to know that you're okay? He isn't... hurting you, is he?" If Spender was hurting Dustin, Alex would get to DC any way he could... not that he wouldn't, anyway, but he wanted to finish up here, and try to get some completed research data. Habibi had trusted him enough to let him help out with the experiments, and he'd learned quite a bit.

"Not yet. I've struck a bit of a bargain with him. I'll be okay; I promise." Dustin closed his eyes, hoping against hope that the words were the deed, and that he was not going to be broken and bleeding by the time his lover returned. "No need to hurry... Just, I miss you so badly."

Krycek stood up. "You... you WHAT?? God, Dustin. No. Say anything but that. He'll - he'll gut you alive, don't you know that? Don't..." He sighed. "What kind of bargain? Lover, if it's for me... I'm free. I'm okay. Don't do it."

"Don't worry, love. I'm fine. You take care of yourself and come back to me. I'll wait right here for you." There was a smile in Dustin's voice, despite the fear that was icing his insides. "Hurry up and come home."

"Dustin." Krycek's voice was firm. "Do not agree to anything he tells you, or believe it. I... once believed him, and you see where it got me. Just... I'll be home as soon as I can, love. Just as soon as I can."

"It will all be okay, baby. Don't worry. I'm old enough to look after myself for a few more days. Once you come home we can be together, and go back to the sun. I want to take you to somewhere warm and lie on the beach with you. I want to swim in that warm sea and watch you beside me. Just hang in." A thought suddenly floated up, all unbidden. "That man - that Habibi? He's treating you well?"

Alex smiled. "That sounds real nice, Dustin. And - like I said, I solved the problem. I would say more but I don't want it on the old man's tapes, you know? But believe me, I'm more than being treated well. And I liberated one who might have been me. I'm happy about that." He smiled at the thought, but more so at the thought of lying on a beach in Malibu with Dustin. "I can smell the suntan lotion already, baby."

Dustin huddled over the phone, aware that the Smoker would want to take it back from him at any time. He felt both exhilarated and afraid as he realized that he would have to start paying for this joy any minute. "Do you know when you'll be able to come back to me, love?"

"I'm not sure. Sooner than you think. How's that?" Alex wanted to leave today, or the next, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to. Sure, the lack of a passport was a small stumbling block. But the bigger one was the palace. He was known to the guards, as was his position there. If he tried to leave... there would be questions. He could slip away, maybe, but how far would he get? "Sooner than you think."

Spender coughed, and looked at Dustin. He was surprised that Alex seemed to have answered the phone himself. Had he somehow charmed El Habibi? He smiled. His son was always the man to get a job done... maybe the research, and the man, would be his sooner than he thought.

Dustin closed his eyes, trying to shut out the person who was there before him, a nightmare made flesh, and one that he would have to face soon enough. "Hurry, love. I can't stop worrying about you. I need you." He looked up guiltily as the old man coughed, willing him to let the connection remain just for one more minute, but not knowing what else to say.

"I... I can't say anything, because it wouldn't mean enough." Alex frowned as he heard the old man cough. He knew that he'd take the phone from Dustin soon, and then he'd be alone... alone, away from his lover, and that old man would be with him. He sucked in a breath. "You stay safe," he said. "You just..." He couldn't say anything more, as images came to him unbidden of Spender raping his love, or tossing him in the dungeon, or brainwashing him. "I'll be home soon."

There was a pause, and an unmistakable click as the phone connection was broken. Dustin thumbed the button to hang up, and sat, the phone resting forgotten on his thigh as he tried to tell himself that it was all right - that Alex was alive and well and would be home with him soon. He shivered. Time to pay the piper, he guessed. He turned to the old man.

"Thank you."

Spender smiled, and walked over to Dustin. "Thank me now," he said, swooping in to claim his prize. He kissed him fiercely. "You are so smooth, so silky soft. You taste so good." Spender allowed himself to think of Alex as he played his hand over Dustin's chest; imagining Alex watching him take Dustin. He smiled. He had a camera set up and ready... he would want to relive this moment, over and over.

This corruption of love... he would turn Dustin against Alex. He thought he knew how to do it now. He led Dustin over to the couch. "Don't worry, Pet. No one will disturb us. Show me how grateful you are." He reclined back on the couch, undoing his fly and stroking himself lightly.

Dustin didn't move. He sat on the couch watching the old man's lewd display with horrified fascination. What would he do? He shivered as he realized that the time had come.

"I... I... Oh fuck." He clenched his teeth, thought of Alex, and the pain he'd gone through. I can do this for Alex, he thought again.

"Come, come, Dustin," Spender said, licking his lips. "I can't wait to see your gratitude. Or would you prefer I make a phone call and see that Alex never comes home?" He smiled. "One little phone call, Dustin."

Nodding, Dustin fell to his knees, his hands reaching out to touch the old man. It was the same as with Mackey. Payment for services rendered. Wasn't this the way that the whole thing had started out? He'd believed that he could have something for nothing, and he'd found that it just wasn't true. Bending forward, he closed his eyes and took the Smoker's penis in his mouth.

Spender put his hand on Dustin's head. "Good... good. Oh..." He leaned back. It seemed that Dustin had learned much from Alex in the short time they had been together. While he wasn't nearly as talented as Alex at this particular pleasure, he wasn't incompetent, either. "Rub your tongue over the vein boy... oh, oh yes. Ah..." He ran his fingers over Dustin's face, over his forehead and eyebrows... down over his cheek. "You will be so good, my boy. Please me so well..."

Be very sure that as soon as Alex is home here with me once more, I will kill you, Spender, Dustin thought. He said nothing, merely redoubling his efforts to satisfy the old man who had charge of his lover's safety. If he was good enough, and fast enough, perhaps this would be all that happened tonight.

Spender relaxed, and then pushed Dustin's head away. He didn't want to come just yet... though the thought of coming into Dustin's mouth was a turn-on. But still - he preferred to wait until he had Dustin actually craving it, wanting to suck him off. He believed he could do it.

Looking at Dustin critically, he said, "Take off your clothes, boy. Slowly."

Dustin stood up slowly, and began to peel off his shirt. He should have known that it wouldn't be that easy. Piece by piece, he dropped his clothing, until he stood naked. He was not erect. He didn't believe that anything would arouse him this evening.

Spender stroked himself as he watched Dustin undress. Seeing that he was not aroused only made Spender smirk. He didn't think that would last very long - but he was sure Dustin would try to keep it that way.

A test of wills, a game! Oh, Spender loved those.

"Come here, Dustin," Spender said, indicating that Dustin should stand directly beside him.

Walking forward to stand beside the Smoker, Dustin felt very vulnerable. There was something degrading about being naked in the presence of a fully dressed man. He thought that Alex must have felt this for day after day as he was growing up, and a fine, unalloyed rage blossomed in his heart. I will kill you, old man, he thought, and smiled.

Spender smiled back at Dustin. "I know you must think me evil," he said. "Many do." He leaned forward, and took Dustin in his mouth, wrapping an arm around Dustin's torso. He squeezed at Dustin's asscheeks as he sucked him, working his penis with his tongue. He created a vacuum, swallowing several times, a move he had never known Alex to resist, even when he tried hard not to become aroused.

A vague stirring somewhere down in his loins had Dustin frowning. He wasn't doing very well and now he feared that the old man would become angry. He mumbled apologies. "I think I'm a little stressed. I don't usually have this trouble." He flashed back to his final days with Darcy. He hadn't been able to get it up then, either. Damn Minnow. If he were here, Dustin would have enjoyed handing Minnow over to his latest conquest.

The Smoker grinned. So the boy wanted to play hardball... that was okay, too. He'd seen how Alex treated Dustin in bed... no problem. He sucked harder, slipping a finger into Dustin's anus, working it up to stroke his prostate. He cupped Dustin's balls with the other hand, massaging them lightly.

Something was waking up down there, and he didn't know whether to be glad or sorry. He felt the familiar prickle of arousal commence inside him, and tried to think of where he was, what was happening. Slowly, the slight tumescence subsided. He whimpered.

"No! It was... I don't know why this is happening to me. Help me."

His cock twitched at the sound of the whimper, so familiar, and Spender looked up at Dustin. "Help you what, my son? You must tell me what it is that you need. You can tell me..." He smiled encouragingly.

"I - I can't get it up. I don't know why, but I can't get it up. I don't know what the problem is. I'm sorry." He hung his head, feigning misery. The touching of that place inside his ass was starting to feel good again, and he hoped that the old man would give up soon, or he'd not be able to stay limp. He gasped as the Smoker continued to stimulate it.

Spender smirked, and continued to rub Dustin's prostate. He took Dustin into his mouth again, sucking harder. Adding another finger to the one already in Dustin's anus, he renewed his assault. "Just relax, boy."

Oh, God, it was happening. It was happening now and he couldn't seem to hold it back. He could feel himself filling up and stiffening as the mouth on his dick finally found the parts that loved to be stroked. He whimpered as the tongue swirled over the head of his dick, and pictured Alex, poised to fuck him senseless.

Spender smiled around Dustin's cock. Got you, he thought. He drew back, to lick the tip, making his tongue pointed to do so. Then he took Dustin's crown in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the rim the way that Alex loved. Making his tongue into a point again, he firmly licked the vein on the underside of his cock.

But he didn't want Dustin to come yet. He wanted ultimate humiliation, as quickly as possible.

He needed this for the project, as well as for his own desires.

He stood up, motioning for Dustin to climb onto the couch. "Get on all fours, boy."

Dustin moved sinuously, his face expressionless as he bent to kneel in the spot that had been indicated. Well, the old boy might have a heart attack or something. He wouldn't bet on it, but it would make a great fantasy as he stuffed himself all unwelcome into Dustin. He knew that Alex had endured this a thousand times. What did Dustin care? Alex was all he wanted. He would win through in the end.

Spender positioned himself behind Dustin, pausing to gloat, knowing this was all being caught in lovely Technicolor. He leaned forward, placing his hands on Dustin's hips. With one swift motion, he drove himself into Dustin, moving one hand to stroke the boy's cock in time to his thrusts. He imagined Alex's face and how he would feel watching him with his lover... then imagined how it would be when Dustin truly craved him.

He leaned forward to hiss in Dustin's ear. "You like power, don't you? I can give you power at the highest levels of government, Dustin. It can all be yours. Power of life and death. All for you, hmm?"

Dustin shook his head, trying to clear it of the fuzzy thoughts that were flashing through it. He bore down on the man's cock, hoping to hasten his orgasm. "All I want," he panted, "All I want is Alex. I don't need power. I just need Alex."

Spender smiled as Dustin squeezed him with his ass, stroking Dustin's cock more firmly. "You would have Alex," he said. "Alex would be with you... anything you wanted, you could have. Power in Hollywood is good, but I could offer you so much more. What can Alex get you? Love?"

"Love is..." Dustin gasped. "It's all I want. Why don't you understand?" He could feel his excitement starting to build. He knew that he was going to come for this creep, and if so then he would enjoy it and damn the man. He writhed a little, trying for a better angle and moaned as the penetration became deeper, harder, sweeter.

Feeling Dustin's body respond, Spender smiled. So like Alex... down to the pre-orgasm flexion. He pressed in harder as his own orgasm neared. Perfect choreography. He leaned in as he and Dustin rode the crest to its inevitable end. He felt Dustin clench, and unless he missed his guess, he knew Dustin was just about to come. Before he did, Spender growled into his ear, "Alex is just a little whore. Nothing more." He felt the onset of his own orgasm, and wrapped his arms around Dustin's torso as he leaned onto him.

For that, you will pay, thought Dustin. You will pay in blood and lost dreams. He bit his lip as he felt the flickering pleasure wash over him. The spasm of Spender's own orgasm suddenly tipped him into his own climax, and he choked as he lost himself. Panting hard, he shot his load into the old man's fist, and thought, "That's one."

Spender collapsed after coming fiercely with a triumphant crow. He couldn't wait to see how Alex reacted to seeing his lover come after hearing him called a whore. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried any harder.

With a gleeful smile, he pulled Dustin's body against his. "You were so good, Dustin. I'd say you were grateful indeed." He leaned in for a kiss. "So good."

Dustin grinned at him, suddenly all hard edges and arrogance. "I always keep my word. I guess that this makes me a whore too, just like Alex." He disengaged himself and stretched his cramped body.

Spender moved his hand over Dustin lingeringly. "No, you're not a whore, Dustin. You're my pet, and special. You gave yourself to me. Alex is given to others by me. It's different..." Normally he wouldn't have said this, but he was feeling the afterglow, and smiled lazily. "You're special, Dustin."

"Special just doesn't begin to describe what I am. So when do I get to learn the good stuff? When do I get to experience this power of yours?" He sat down on the edge of the couch and began pulling on his jeans. He would take what he could from this relationship, and when the time came, Alex would be free. Spender reached out to stop Dustin from putting his clothes back on. "Oh... you're arrogant, too. I forgot that." He leaned in. "He expects to be a pampered pet. I can do that for you." He kissed him softly on the lips. "Dustin, Dustin. I have meetings to attend tomorrow that you'll want to attend too. But tonight, how about more films? You once asked how Alex could act so childishly, I believe."

Paydirt! Already, the old bastard was going to show him what he needed to know. A thrill went through him. "Yes, sir. I would very much like to know what you did to cause that. I don't think that Alex is naturally childish. You had to have done something extremely bad to him to make him behave that way."

Spender smiled. "You like that kind of power, Poppet? I could give you that." He stood up. "I could even show you first-hand," he mused. "But you're my pet and you wish to see the videos. Very well. I'll spoil you." He headed to the other side of the library to fetch them. "Don't get dressed now," he smirked. "I love the way you look."

He returned with a stack of videos. "Now, Dustin. Here is the first one... what you can't see is that we gave Alex LSD. Large doses. It began when he was, oh, ten or eleven here. We had to indoctrinate him early with some of this."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Alex was backed up against the wall of the lab, sitting in the corner. He held Günter to his side with one arm, and brandished a knife with the other.

Smiling fiercely, he spat, "No. He's mine now. Mine to save. You can't take him. I won't let you."

Marita had been trying to explain to him that Habibi was still alive. Impossibly the poison had failed; whether because his bulk required a bigger dosage, or because the poison was faulty, she didn't know. She was urging Alex to hand Gunter to her, promising she would take Günter to safety if only he would deal with Habibi, who was angry as the proverbial hippo with a hernia and declaring only his favorite slave could cheer him up. Marita spoke softly. "Alex, it's me. Marita. If you hand Günter to me, I can help you save him."

Alex whimpered, still brandishing the knife. Günter looked from Marita to Alex, a mite confused, but willing to trust the man who seemed to care for him. No one else had...

Still, Alex was hurting him a bit by holding him too tightly. "Um, Alex?" he said, noticing for the first time the haunted look in the other man's eyes.

Suddenly, Alex seemed to come back to himself. Loosening his grip on Günter, he put the knife down. "I'm... I'm sorry," he said to both of them.

Marita breathed a sigh of relief as Alex snapped out of his fugue. "It's all right, Alex. Did you hear a word of what I just said?"

Alex blinked. "No, not... no. I'm sorry." He blinked, still a little dazed.

"It's okay. I'll repeat it. Habibi isn't dead, and he wants to see you. I'll take Günter to safety. You, go calm the man. If anyone can charm him, it's you."

"Not... dead?" Alex repeated. "How...?"

"Never mind that," Marita said. "I'll try to figure it out. Right now, the important thing is ensuring your safety... and the future of the project, as well."

Alex leaned his head back. "The project, the project. Why is it always the project?"

Marita sighed. "It isn't... not always. It's peripheral now... but you need to keep your mind occupied. You can't brood and make him happy too. And you know what will happen if you don't."

"Right." He shot her a glare, but stood up. "If it makes him happy..."

"Alex, that's not fair," Marita said. "I'm in this as deeply as you are."

"Yeah, I know." Without a further word, he left to head for his chambers, to prepare.

The glimmer of an idea formed in his mind as he made his way through the palace. Arriving in the room that Habibi had assigned him, as his favorite, he made himself up with oil and the hated bejeweled garments Habibi had given him. Slipping on the golden collar, he thought how good that it might look on Dustin. Now, where had that thought come from?

He studied himself in the mirror, dusting himself with the bronze talc and moistening his hair a little. When he looked as good as he figured he ever would, he lowered his eyes and held them there a few moments.

Now or never.

He went down to the throne room, walked up to where Habibi sat, and knelt, awaiting permission to speak. He had his story ready, if Habibi would let him tell it.

The man sat, stone faced and aloof. He had abandoned the cushions and rugs for the more imposing chair that stood at the end of the room on its raised dais. With one hand he fondled a scimitar that had an ornate handle, upon which were verses from the Koran, inlayed in gold.

"A death has been called for, Alex, my pet. Allah smiles, and it is not my death, but yours that awaits. What have you to say?"

"I wasn't trying to kill you, Master. I only wished you to take a nap; that I might make myself ready, and show you what a good Pet I can be... how well I can please. Surely you would like that? I want to repay you for your many kindnesses."

Alex kissed the hand that held the scimitar, playing his fingers on the hem of Habibi's robe. "If you would kill me before I can prove my devotion, so be it. But then you'll never know." He had slid his hand under the robes by this time, and was now expertly stroking the man's cock, licking his lips lasciviously. "I can't wait to show you."

His knife lay in a pocket of the overwrap he wore, ready in case Habibi didn't believe him.

"Grovel before me!" The words were sharp and El Habibi moved suddenly, standing to kick Alex back off the dais. "What right do you have to assume that I will always favor you, just because you are beautiful? You go to far."

Alex fell backwards, but quickly recovered, to kneel at Habibi's feet. He kissed them, and then knelt still, hitching his robe up around his hips, exposing his nakedness underneath, offering himself.

"Use me, Master. I give myself to you, most humbly. I offer my pathetic body to you. Please, use it for your pleasure as you will." Just don't cut it, he thought. Anything but that...

The large man took his scimitar in his hand and raised it, bringing the flat of it down onto Alex's buttocks with a loud smacking sound. Tossing the sword aside to lie forgotten on the polished tile, he unfastened the belt that he wore and applied it to Alex's exposed behind.

"I will use you. You grow too full of yourself, Alex. You need to learn humility."

Yes, Master." The sting of sword and belt were savage and cruel, but he had suffered worse and could handle it. He bit his lip and thought of Dustin, of Günter, of Marita. For all of them, he could handle it.

"Please, please. Make me humble so that I might know the privilege of serving at your feet." He spread his knees slightly, even as he yearned to snap a reply and slay the man where he stood.

But he couldn't. Not yet.

The biologist studied the criss-crossing welts that he had made on Alex's back, and nodded. Alex was humble. Possibly he had misjudged the man. He was such a beautiful catamite that it seemed he could almost forgive him anything. He seized Alex's hair and pulled the man up to stand beside him. "You are breathtaking. I believe that I could drown in your eyes, my faithless one." He enveloped Alex in a kiss. Alex kissed the foul man in return, barely stifling a retch as his mouth was invaded by that fat, spicy tongue. Whatever the man ate, it made his kissing him an unpleasant proposition under the best of circumstances. He wrapped an arm around his master.

The man's words danced in Alex's brain, caressing parts of it into wakefulness. "So, I'm still your pretty boy?" he asked, fluttering his lashes appealingly. "I can be, you know." He reached inside the big man's robes. "Please, Master, let me please you?"

"Very well then. Please me enough, and I won't kill you today. You are fortunate, Alex. You are beloved of Allah. Were you not, you would lie headless before me now." This time, El Habibi permitted Alex's questing fingers to find and stroke his aroused manhood, and his hand on Alex's shoulder pressed him down to kneel before him.

Alex fell to his knees obediently. "Yes, Master. Thank you. It is a privilege to service you." He reverently opened Habibi's robes, part of his mind thinking, 'and it will be a privilege to kill you, as well.' Another part of his mind, the part that was Alexei, told him to stop it, and be a good boy, do his work, and maybe Daddy would love him then.

He closed his eyes, and applied his mouth to the organ that gleamed red in front of him.

He was so intent on his task that he didn't at first notice the commotion that had begun around him.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Marita looked at Günter. "Okay. Take that box of papers Alex had there; I've got this one, and the samples. Grab that briefcase, too, will you?"

Günter nodded. His life was to please, and while these people said they would free him, he didn't understand what that implied. "Okay." He did as she asked, and smiled.

"All right, let's go." She was still beating herself up over her comment to Alex about the project. Maybe they should have just left, but they needed the research, and Spender would surely kill Alex if he failed.

She and Günter headed out of the lab.

They were almost free of the palace when a guard laid a heavy hand on Marita's shoulder.

"Pardon, but your presence is requested in the main audience room." The gun that the guard was wielding was large, and Günter whimpered at her side.

Marita glowered at the guard. "Who sent you? We were requested by Habibi to convey some documents to the Southern operation."

"You will come with me now." The guard pulled her around roughly, and when she jerked her hand away from him, he hit her with the butt of his gun. Günter looked on, cowering.

Marita felt her consciousness fading though she fought to stay alert. Her balance slipped, and she looked at Günter as her vision dimmed. What would happen to him now? Alex had trusted her... she remembered how he had trusted her once before, with D'mitri. Fighting the gray haze that was even now taking over her brain, she looked to Günter. "Run... "

She slumped to the ground, limp and apparently lifeless.

Günter stood frozen for a minute. Then he turned and took to his heels. The guard raised his rifle, and without a pause, shot the fleeing boy in the head.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Alexei could feel it was coming. He redoubled his efforts as he felt Habibi thrusting himself down his throat, nearly choking him as he did so. But Alexei was a good boy, a pretty boy. He wouldn't complain. He'd do as he was told, and then he could rest. Alex tasted the first few drops of precum, forcing himself not to spit. "How do you like it, Master?"

El Habibi was well on his way to orgasm, and groaned as Alex pulled back to speak. He groped for Alex's hair, pulling him back to his task.

Alex took Habibi's huge cock in his hand,, licking along the ridge, pressing his tongue on it hard, as he opened his mouth wider to take him deep. Forming a vacuum, he forced himself to swallow three times in rapid succession. Now, he thought. If Allah indeed loves me, he will hasten this...

The huge man cried out and tensed, pumping into Alex's mouth as he sucked industriously. There was not much ejaculate - he had already emptied himself earlier. Collapsing down to his knees beside Alex, he threw his arms around him.

"Now, Allah be praised, my Alex. I love you best of all."

"Praise be to Allah," Alex replied, leaning his head on the big man's shoulder. "I love you, too. You've given me so much. How could I ever harm you? You protect me from myself, from my own darker impulses. I see that now." Now, Allah, if you love me... he thought.

The commotion from the entrance to the hallway made them both look up. A guard stood nervously at the door.

"Pray forgive the intrusion, effendi," he said. "You are betrayed."

Alex stared at the guard. He seemed to be carrying two bodies with him, which he casually tossed inside the door. Marita lay limp, and what was left of Günter's head was awash in blood... He stiffened. His only friend was dead, and Günter...

It's all your fault, boy. You shouldn't have run.

"No..."

Yes, boy. You had such good friends. Why did you kill them?

"I didn't..."

Who else, boy? No one else did it. It must have been you."

"It wasn't me!" Alexei whimpered.

Of course it was.

Eyes suddenly blazing, Alex reached into his robe, cat-quick. The guard, the guard... said part of his brain. He wasn't listening, though. As his vision dimmed, he had only one intent. Grabbing his knife, so much smaller than Habibi's scimitar, he drew it across Habibi's throat, efficiently slicing through carotid and larynx at once. Daddy taught me well, he thought grimly.

Pushing Habibi away from him, he ran to the guard, who had raised his rifle. He dodged and rolled as he saw the man pull the trigger, the bullet just missing him. Coming to rest at the man's feet, he tackled him to the ground, Sascha's rage full now. He grabbed the rifle out of the man's hands, and hacked and slashed at the guard until he was sure he was dead. There was no finesse, only rage and the overkill of the psychopath or passion killer. Krycek had become both now, and he wailed as he stabbed the man repeatedly.

When he was done, and had regained some semblance of composure, he walked over to where Günter and Marita lay.

There was no hope for Günter. And Marita...

He heard footsteps, and knew he had to get out of there. He took her hand. "Goodbye, my sweet friend," he said, kissing the back of it. Then he stood up and slipped into the hall, heading for his room, and his street clothes.

The tears threatened, but Alex could be very pragmatic when he had to be.

Back in the lab, Alex clung grimly to the gun he had stolen while he used the computer to back up data and burn a couple of CDs with the information that the Smoker coveted so much. Slipping them into his pocket, he left the lab. When a guard came into sight, Alex shot him. He felt driven. He had to leave this place. He couldn't have said why, but he was desperate to be gone.

Alex ran down the halls, shooting anyone and everyone on sight. A part of his mind screamed at him, but he couldn't stop. Driven on by his urgency, he finally ran out of a side door, and felt like he could breathe again.

Grieve later...

Jumping into one of the Land Rovers Alex hotwired it efficiently, and drove to the post office. Quickly addressing CDs, he mailed them back to DC, then he headed for the airport, to send himself flying in their wake.

Scanning the departure monitors, he found an El Al flight that left in an hour. If he hurried... He ran to the check-in desk for a ticket. He needed to act calmly, and draw as little attention to himself as possible.

The reservation agent took his credit card, beginning to print out the ticket, and then requested his passport. He should have spent a little time looking for papers to assist his exit from the country, but his head was pounding, and he just wanted to escape from everything. His own thoughts bellowed inside his head.

When the heavy hand fell on his shoulder, his first instinct was to fight.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The days had passed slowly for Dustin. He wondered at times if there was anything left of the Dustin Yarma that had commissioned Alex Krycek to take out Minnow for him before the man stole his life away completely.

Alex himself had started the remolding of Dustin's persona, and he had found that scary, exciting, and erotic. His heart had been well and truly captured by the man who looked so like him, and from there it had begun to get out of control.

The predicament in which he'd found himself was no longer as terrifying as he had believed it would become. The Smoker had treated him reasonably well so far. He'd begun to feel hopeful that he would get out of this with a whole skin.

He'd spent his days watching the tapes of Alex as they poked and pried at his psyche, shaping it into something that would never have been. Alex had four personas that he had spotted so far. The Smoker had gloated as he confirmed Dustin's observations. There were indeed four parts to Alex's personality, and they were all called forth by various triggers. The child, Alyosha was a pathetic waif. He would surface when Alex was in desperate straits, and beg pathetically for his father, his mother, and for safety that never came. The boy Alexei was somewhat older. He could recall the terror of the Gulag and the starvation and torture to which he had been subjected.

Alex, the man, was his daily personality, and this was the one with whom Dustin had fallen in love. He was both arrogant and tender, loving and cruel. Dustin prayed that one day he would have him back. There was another face that he had seen on film; one that he prayed he would never face in person. That was Sascha, the psychopathic killer. Emotionless, pitiless, Sascha could be called out of concealment by the simple speaking of a phrase.

It had taken a little time for this concept to become real to Dustin. The sheer wickedness of the process that had been perpetrated on his lover made him angrier than he could bear. He asked his mentor very politely what had become of the doctor that showed up on all of the videos, goading, shaping, never permitting Alex to rest.

Spender stroked Dustin's cheek. "He is an old man now... weak and senile. He barely remembers his own name, though I do go visit him occasionally. Tell me, my Pet, what intrigues you?"

Spender fondled Dustin's chest as he waited for a reply. He felt sure that Dustin wanted to kill the old man, and he would stand by and let it happen, if that was what his Pet wanted.

He had taken Dustin to several Syndicate meetings by now, and had grown quite attached to him. He was so sharp, and such an eager pupil. He couldn't wait till the day he used him to hurt Alex. A finely honed instrument, indeed!

"I want to reward him. He deserves something a little special, wouldn't you say?" Dustin's eyelids fluttered in the telltale gesture that showed he hated this doctor. "Why didn't he wait for me? Why did he become feeble?" Dustin's brow furrowed in frustration. He felt full of fury, as though his skin would split if he didn't relieve it. His mind turned to the man who had been at the meeting that afternoon. He'd recognized him from a tape of the young Alexei. The doctor could wait. He would slake his rage on a closer target. Lowering his lashes flirtatiously, Dustin permitted the old man his caresses, and thought of bursting in on that man to reap vengeance.

Seeing the fire in Dustin's eyes inflamed Spender. He felt his cock grow hard as he continued to stroke Dustin's chest, leaning in to kiss his lips, his neck. He ran his hands up under Dustin's shirt. "Tell me, Dustin. Who is it? Who do you want to kill?" The anger in his Pet, so deceptively sweet and mild-mannered, was maddeningly arousing to Spender. He pushed and pulled Dustin into position on the couch, pressing himself against Dustin through his fine linen trousers.

"Come on, Boy. Tell me all about it... all about your darkest desires. I can make them come true for you, you know." He reached for Dustin's fly.

"You believe that I want to kill?" Dustin looked back in surprise at the old man's perspicacity. "I do. I will." His fingers curled into claws, ripping the fabric of a cushion upon which his hands were resting. "There was a Frenchman at today's meeting?" The old man was predictable. He fucked Dustin busily, and Dustin, thoughts aflame with the desire to take the Frenchman apart, barely noticed.

"Tell me, Pet." Spender grunted as he thrust himself in and out of Dustin. "What did he do, my love? Why do you hate him so?" He smiled, knowing who Dustin meant. He had helped with Alexei, helped in his training... but sometimes wanted more than Alexei cared to give. Still, that had nothing to do with it, did it? Alexei needed to learn control and restraint.

He hissed as he felt his balls tighten slightly. "He hurt your Alexei, didn't he?"

"Can I have him?" Dustin ignored the question. Let the old man suspect. He wouldn't confirm it. "I dislike his moustache." He bore down on the penis within him, trying to hasten the orgasm he sensed was close.

Spender smiled. Dustin was a slick one. He thrust into Dustin again as the younger man bore down on him. "Of course you can have him, Poppet. I do so love to see you in action. Yes..." As Dustin continued to bear down, he increased his speed, his ass cheeks clenching and unclenching as he grunted ferally, fucking Dustin roughly until he reached orgasm, emptying himself into Dustin and falling onto him with a shudder as he imagined how he would give the man to his Pet.

"It will be so nice," he said.

Dustin stood to clean himself, happy that the old man had come quickly. His orgasm still hovered, and he would save it for the moment that he cut the throat of the bastard that had tormented Alex. He remained naked, half hard at the thought of vengeance for his lover.

"When? Where? Now?" His voice was all smoky menace as he thought of his knife.

Spender looked at Dustin, stroking a hand lightly over his cock. "Hmm... no time like the present, pretty baby. I do so love to see you in action." Sitting up, he began to lick at Dustin's cock, smiling. "Do you love me, Dustin? Love me for what I can give you?"

He knew Dustin loved Alex. But he needed him to love him too... if only a little.

It would be a start.

"He thinks you're Alexei. Let me call him and arrange a ... meeting." He leaned back, leaving Dustin hard. "You're so beautiful," he said.

"So is Alex," retorted Dustin. "Why don't you seek his favors the way that you seek mine?" Dustin reached for the Smoker's cell phone and passed it over, smiling as the thought of killing this other ran through his mind. The killing of Pyotor had set him free, he thought to himself. He had never realized just quite how good it would feel to rid the world of scum such as Pyotor had been.

Spender smiled. "Alex always favored me... he was so easy. I never had to work for it."

He took the phone and dialed the number of the psychologist Dustin was after, smiling cruelly.

This was a heady thing.

"Jean-Paul? ... Yes. I thought the meeting went well, too. ... What? Oh! I have someone here who wishes to see you. I think you'll want to see him, too." He smiled to Dustin. "Alexei... I'll put him on."

Spender handed the phone to Dustin, nodding and mouthing, "Go with it."

"H - hello," said Dustin, a little unsure. "I wanted to come by and renew our acquaintance. It's so long since I've seen you." He paused, waiting for the other man, knowing that whether he said yes or no, by morning he would be dead.

Jean-Paul smiled on the other end of the line. He knew part of Alexei hated him, but he was programmed to please at a word. Apparently it was still so.

"Alexei, my boy. I happen to have the afternoon free. Would you like to come by in, say, an hour or so? We could play a game, you and I."

He reached down to stroke himself through his trousers at the thought. He'd been hard since he heard what he believed was Alexei's voice.

Dustin was dressing himself efficiently, pulling on the jeans and the silk shirt that he had been wearing. Swiftly, he raced back to his room to fetch the knife that was so much more than just a knife to him. Tucking his talisman into his jeans, he headed off to call on the Frenchman. This was something that Alex would approve of, he thought as he went.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Arriving at the room the Smoker had told him held the Frenchman, he knocked tentatively.

John-Paul opened the door, smiling broadly. He always enjoyed seeing Alexei.

"How nice to see you, my pretty one," he said.

Stepping back to invite him in, John-Paul slipped an arm around Dustin's shoulders, dropping it to linger on the small of his back.

"Come in, come in!"

Dustin stepped into the room, looking around him curiously. This was luxury of the first kind. He ambled in to the living area and sat down on the leather ottoman without waiting for an invitation. "Long time, no see, Jean-Paul,' he said, his voice a silken purr.

Jean-Paul walked over to the bar. "Would you like a drink?" His cock strained painfully at the sound of that voice, so familiar.

He poured a drink and walked back to the chair, offering it to Dustin.

"Alexei..." he stroked his face crudely, turning it in his hands without so much as a "by your leave." He stooped to kiss his lips, his cheek.

This was the man he had helped to shape. All anger and pain, but submissive at a word. He thrust his groin toward Dustin's face, expectantly.

Dustin raised his face to meet Jean-Paul's eyes, a smile lighting his features.

"Are you pleased to see me?" he grinned, his eyes flicking to take in the bulge in the man's trousers. "You always were, weren't you? Maybe I'll think up a cure for that."

Jean-Paul caressed Dustin's hair. "Alexei, you were always such a good boy... the prettiest boy of them all. So special."

At Alexei's words and voice, and gaze - that gaze! - Jean-Paul's cock became fully erect, and he passed a hand down the front of Dustin's shirt. He kept going till he reached his fly. "I'm sure we can think of... something. Be a good boy now. Be good for your Daddy."

The psychologist was salivating now, practically drooling. It had been awhile since Spender had given him leave with Alexei, and he had jumped at the chance.

"I'll be better than that," murmured Dustin, standing up to crowd the other man. "I'll be the best thing you ever had."

In his hand, he held the knife that Alex had given to him. He didn't permit the older man to see it just yet, but he wondered how long it would be before he saw fear enter the eyes that were undressing him so lustfully.

Jean-Paul frowned. That wasn't Alexei's programmed response... not that the boy couldn't say something else, but the fact was that he wouldn't. Not unless something had gone very wrong with his programming.

Was that why Spender had allowed him to see Alexei? But if so, then why hadn't he told him?

Sensing the need for delicacy, Jean-Paul sat down on the couch, inviting Alexei to do the same. His cock was so hard though... so hard. A man couldn't think in the presence of such a vision, and before he quite knew what he was doing, he was following the old script: "Take off your clothes, now, Alexei."

"I don't think so, Jean-Paul. I believe that I'll keep them on if it's all the same to you." Dustin was laughing now, the joy in this man's imminent realization that all was not as it should be alive in the curve of his lip and his sparkling eyes. He put a hand up to take hold of the older man's shirtfront, and pulled him close.

"I think that something has gone terribly wrong. Don't you?" he breathed.

"Alexei --" Jean-Paul said, trying to loosen the grip he had on his shirt. "Alexei. Come now," he cajoled. "Be good, or your Daddy will punish you."

Seeing that his words had no effect, the psychiatrist took Dustin's shoulders in his hands, trying to get him to sit down. "You're not yourself, Alexei. Sit down, and let me help you. Alexei?"

What was going on here? Alexei was never so resistant? Never.

He was tightly controlled, programmed so well. Had something happened to undo his careful work? Apparently it had. There was a dangerous gleam in Alexei's eyes.

Sascha.

What the --

"Sascha?" Jean-Paul asked, fear in his voice.

Had Spender set this up? It would be like him to do so, he decided. But he'd done nothing against the project, spoken to no one. Still, it seemed his fate was sealed, unless he could somehow prevent it.

"Why, Alexei?" he asked fearfully as he got up, backing towards the door. "I know you're in there somewhere. Was I not always good to you? Alyosha, Alyosha. Did I not always care for you, and give you candy? You wouldn't hurt me, would you, Alyosha?"

"My name is Dustin, and there are more things to my life than candy, old man." Dustin twisted the man's shirt around his hand, ensuring that the man would not be able to back away from him, now that he could see that he was in trouble. His right hand brought up the knife to show the now terrified psychiatrist. "I like things with a bite to them, if you know what I mean?"

Jean-Paul tried to twist away, but the man's grip was firm. Dustin? What does he mean; his name is Dustin?

Was there another psychiatrist involved, creating more personalities? Ones he didn't know about? The thought was frightening.

"Your name is Alexei," he tried firmly. "Or Alex, now. Alex Krycek. You work for one of the most important men in the world, and he protects you. You are kept safe from harm by men at the top."

None of that was working! What was this?

"Be good! Be good for your Daddy!" he practically shouted.

When the response was a low laugh that made him shiver, Jean Paul had to consider that maybe, just maybe this was someone else. But there was no twin that he knew of. It was impossible.

Then he saw the knife. Sascha's knife.

"What are you doing with Sascha's knife?"

Sascha would die with that knife in his hand, he'd once told him during a session.

Had there been more to the Krycek project? A part he didn't know about? Was there a twin, called Dustin, and had he gone amok, killing Alex? How else would he have gotten that knife?

But Spender had set this up.

"Where did you get Sascha's knife?" he repeated.

"It's my knife. Alex gave it to me. He wouldn't give me something that wasn't his." Dustin was still grinning. Leaning forward, he kissed the astonished man's nose. "He didn't think that I would ever use it. He's going to be so amazed when he gets back."

All that Dr. LaPierre could manage was, "Alex gave you his knife? Where is he?" He tried to retain the calm, soothing voice of the therapist, but wasn't sure he was doing it.

When Dustin kissed him, he drew back. He didn't like the look in his eyes. It frankly terrified him. "Who are you? Where did you come from?"

"I told you. I'm Dustin." He grinned tightly, growing tired of the game. "I'm the last thing you'll ever see. You deserve to go to hell for what you did to Alex. I'm the one who's going to send you there."

As the man shrank away from him, Dustin loomed over him and thrust the knife up into his throat. Jumping back rapidly, he wiped his knife on the rug, and sauntered out of the room.

Pain. A lot of pain. Sharp pain. Talk about a pain in the neck... these things flashed through LaPierre's mind as he slumped and fell heavily to the carpet. Dustin had made a clean, surgical slice to his carotid, jugular, and larynx, and he lay still, bleeding out on the floor.

Seeing Dustin approach the car, CSM looked up. The boy was practically prancing. And not a drop of blood on him... how did he learn to do that? He opened the door, waiting for Dustin to get in.

Dustin's brain was buzzing. He wanted to run and yell and scream. Instead, he climbed into the car and turned to the Smoker.

"Take me home? I'm feeling a little strange."

Spender smiled. "I'll take you home. You did well, my boy. Not even a splatter of blood! Where did you learn that?"

He looked down at Dustin's crotch. Alex sometimes came from the thrill of killing... would Dustin?

He had received a phone call from Tunis while Dustin was with LaPierre, but he wanted to delight in the glow from Dustin for a while first.

Then he'd make a new glow. Of anger, he knew.

Starting the car, he whisked them away and towards the house.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The prisoners in cell 14 had been acting up again. It was all the fault of that infidel scum that had been brought in pending a murder trial and subsequent execution. Ahmet knew that there would be no reprieve for the man. The bribe money had already been paid, and he would be executed soon enough. Until that time, however, he, Ahmet was responsible for his incarceration, and he was not a happy camper. Now, he strode down to the offending cell, listening to yet more howls of pain. What had the son of a dog done now? Ahmet asked himself.

Alex shivered. He was cold, and hungry. The guards had stripped him, taken his arm, given him a shower, and some ratty clothes, and tossed him here in this cell with several men, only one of whom spoke English.

Of course they had fallen on him when he was thrust inside. What could a pretty boy like him expect, after all? Snarling, he punched the third man who had tried to rape him in as many hours. He pounded the man, slamming his head against the bars of the cell even as some of the other prisoners tried to stop him.

But he couldn't stop. If he did, he'd remember Günter, and Marita. And if he got to thinking that way, who knew what would happen?

As Ahmet approached the bars, the others fell back, leaving only Alex with his hapless victim still clenched beneath his arm.

"Son of a whore, why are you disturbing the smooth running of my jail? Do you require persuasion before you are silent?" Ahmet rattled the bars of the cage with his nightstick.

Alex glared back at the man. "He tried to rape me. I'm not going to tolerate that."

"It is in the hands of Allah. Be at peace or I will bring you to the peace of my right arm." Ahmet stood eyeing Alex up, trying to decide whether or not he should just kill him now and blame the prisoners for his death.

Alex breathed heavily, biting his lip to keep from telling this man where to stick his Allah... and his hands. "Yeah," he said darkly. "I suppose it is. So if I squash the brains of the next man who tries it, then that will be in the hands of Allah, too?"

Ahmet had been having a bad day. With a curse, he lashed out at Alex, catching him a heavy blow on his left shoulder. Turning with an oath, he stumped off down the passageway. The prisoners would all be far more docile after a day without food and water. He could wait. Meanwhile, there was the bribe money to split up.

Alex slammed the head of the man in his grip against the bars of the cell one last time, then dropped him, unconscious, to the floor of the cell. Breathing heavily, he turned and glared at the rest of the prisoners, daring them with his eyes to try anything.

Time passed. The heat of the day dissipated very suddenly with the coming of night. From blistering heat, all of a sudden it was bitingly cold as the thin air of the desert sucked all the warmth from the land. The other prisoners who were in the cell with Alex had gathered together in a group and were watching him as he rubbed his badly bruised shoulder.

Alex glared at the group of men, then decided to try to get as comfortable as he could. He was cold, and tired. Lying down on a crude pallet, he took a thin blanket and wrapped it around himself. He lay down, waiting for it to start.

He would feign sleep, dispatch one or two that came for him, and hope the others would learn that he was no one to be trifled with.

A sudden image of Dustin floated to his consciousness, and he wondered what his love was doing at that moment. Dustin... I love you. Hang in there, baby. Some how, some way, I'll get out of here.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Spender looked at the table Malia had prepared. Greta stood beside him. On the table was a lobster dinner - whole lobsters for both Spender and Dustin, boiled by his cook to perfection, presented nicely with all the trimmings. He hoped his Pet would be pleased. He had gone to some trouble, after all.

He considered his next move. How best to tell the boy? Butter him up first, he decided. Make him feel good. He saw cravings for love in Dustin and, especially on his tapes of him with Alex, for approval.

He could work with that.

Still standing, he turned to Greta. "Go fetch Dustin for dinner, will you?"

He coughed once, lightly, and took a sip of water.

Greta went off towards Dustin's room. Knocking lightly, she said, "He's got a nice dinner waiting for you downstairs. He'll be so disappointed if you were late, or missed it... come."

Dustin had been reading the information that the Smoker had to hand on the brainwashing programs that had been implemented in the US since the fifties, and he had come to the conclusion that he needed to get a hypnotherapist for Alex, if he were to be cured of the things that had been done to him. When Greta summoned him, he frowned. He really wasn't hungry, and this woman was a thorn in his flesh. He hated her, both for the things she had done to Alex, and for herself.

"I'll be down in a minute. He'll be fine."

Greta remained standing in the doorway. "He requested that you come now. The food's getting cold. It looks delicious. Your reading can wait."

She paused, and then added, "Pet."

Dustin stared at her with cold, killing eyes as he waited for her to leave as he'd requested.

When she didn't, he leaned forward with a glare that was utterly unmistakable. "Get out of my room, or die." He returned to the book, and read to the end of his chapter, not even looking to see if she'd obeyed him.

Greta smirked, standing in the doorway. All right, one more chapter, she thought. Just like Alex when she had called him to table. So much like Alex! He really was fascinating to watch.

She retreated, barely out of sight, waiting.

Once he'd finished his page, Dustin folded the corner down and arose, leaving his room to go and find the old man. He wondered where he was going to find a competent hypnotist here in DC. He was sure that it would be far easier over in Los Angeles, but first, he had to get Alex home. Until that happened, all was purely conjecture and nothing more.

He trotted downstairs to the dining room, feeling more like throwing up than eating.

Spender looked up at the sound of familiar footfalls. As Dustin entered the room, he walked over to put his arms around him and help him solicitously to his chair.

"Ah, my boy, my boy! I hope you like seafood?"

He kissed Dustin's cheek, then took his own seat across the table. "So, what have you learned?"

"I was reading the stuff on mind control. It's fascinating." Dustin permitted the old man to seat him, and then looked at the table, wondering whether this magnificence were an attempt to impress him or whether he was merely becoming paranoid. "I really want to see some of the work being done."

He reached for a napkin.

Spender smiled. "Good, good! I love your enthusiasm. See it done... haven't you, already? What do you mean?"

He'd put off telling Dustin about Alex until it couldn't be avoided. Dustin's fascination with what would repel most was, well, fascinating in itself. A part of him said that Dustin was only interested in Alex, but part of him thought he saw a power-hungry gleam there. Maybe the boy wanted this power for himself?

"Have I not told you what you need to know?"

"Always, sir. I never realized exactly how much was going on behind the scenes. Makes me wish I'd gone into politics instead of the entertainment business. It's all so exciting. How do you determine what to install in someone? What makes one a good candidate, and another not? I want to see it from start to finish." Dustin spoke ingenuously, and gazed as adoringly as he could manage at the old snake on whose say-so his Alex would live or die.

Spender smiled. "There's time to switch careers yet, my son..."

His smile grew dark. See it from start to finish...? Careful what you wish for, my sweet Dustin, he thought.

"Well, the best candidate is one who is strong... outwardly." Spender cracked a lobster claw between his fingers. "For some reason the strong ones, the ones that are toughest to break, hold the conditioning the easiest..."

The meat in the claw was recalcitrant, and Spender reached for a utensil.

"That's for adults, anyway. In terms of children... you pick the ones that seem to have a natural aptitude for what you want them to do. Same with adults in that way, too, but usually really young children don't resist. Of course, the job then is to ensure that they never will." He looked at Dustin, a cold smile on his face. "You'd make a great killer, you know. As does Alex. If I'd had you earlier I might have sent you out with him, to work together, as a team." He'd heard Dustin making noises to the effect of wanting to work with Alex enough times.

He wondered...

"When did you realize that Alex would be good for the use to which you put him? Why did you use him the way that you did? Was it only because he was young and friendless, or did you see something more in him?" Dustin was afraid. He could sense menace behind the benign expression on the old man's face.

"Alex? Ah, yes. It's always young Alex with you, isn't it? Do you like little boys, Dustin?" Spender asked, smirking cruelly. "Been the downfall of many statesman."

He reflected. "I suppose that's one reason I chose him. He appealed to many of the men who we needed to 'get the goods on', as I believe you say out in Hollywood. As far as killing... if used as a reward, the term 'a killer instinct' gains new meaning. Wouldn't you say? How powerful did you feel this afternoon, with LaPierre? How certain were you that what you were doing was the right thing?"

Allowing menace to creep fully into his voice, Spender finished, "How did it feel, to pass ultimate judgement and sentence on the man?"

"It felt good," admitted Dustin, cracking a claw and then picking at the meat that was revealed. "He was so convinced that I was Alex, and that I was controllable." He smiled a little grimly. "You knew that I was going to kill him. Why did you permit that?"

Spender's smirk widened. Got you, he thought.

"You say you want to know about... mind control? How in control were you then? If, even two weeks ago, I'd told you to kill the man, you'd have thought I was crazy. Maybe you still do... fair enough. But the point is, you were influenced to kill him. Not mind control, not exactly? What if everything you know about Krycek is a lie? What if he was just a hallucination? What then?"

"I don't understand," Dustin mumbled. "How could he possibly be a hallucination?" He frowned. "You are messing with my mind? When? Why would you bother?"

Spender laughed. "Eat your food, my boy. I can't not play with your head. My god, it's what I do! Didn't Alex warn you about me?" He chortled maniacally.

"Alex is real. But -- is he? He's so many things to so many people. Who's the real Alex Krycek? Is there one?"

He thought for a moment. How best to say this... "You killed for your image of him, to save the Alex you think needs saving. What if he doesn't? What if it's all a lie, and Alex is here and well in DC, about to walk through that door there?"

He looked up expectantly, pointing toward the door with his lobster claw.

Dustin shoved back his chair abruptly. "I believe that I'll go now. I don't like to be made fun of, and you are messing with my mind. Alex is my love. All of Alex, the child, and the killer. I know what you made of him, and he's mine. I love him. You can't change that, can you? You can kill me, or lock me up, or even torture me, but you know that Alex and Dustin are soul mates. Excuse me."

He turned to go.

Spender stood up in a flash, pressing his body to Dustin's. "Dustin... don't go. I... sit. There's something I need to tell you."

Though he had at first panicked inside at Dustin's desire to flee, he now saw it for what it was: he was getting to the lad. Good.

"If I told you that Alex could die tonight, what then?"

He drew his face into a mask of remorse and guilt as he gazed at him forlornly.

"Oh, I am so sorry Dustin... but it seems your Alex killed the man who was looking after him so kindly, El Habibi... I mean, the man gives him the top position in his harem, he was his favorite catamite, and Alex kills him? How ungrateful, yes? Well, it seems the Tunisian government thought so... he's in jail, awaiting execution."

He gave Dustin a predatory look, which seemed to say, He can live or die. It's up to you.

Dustin felt a cold fear knife through him, and pushed the old man away from him while he tried to think. This could be true, or the Smoker might only be playing with him. How was he to know? What was he to do? He sat again, somewhat heavily, and stared into the remote distance. This was beyond him. All of a sudden he felt tired.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Krycek lay on the hard pallet, breathing softly. His body was sore, but his mind was sharp. He tried not to think about them, but the images of Marita and Günter came to him anyway. They spoke to him, accusing him.

If you hadn't run, boy, it would still be all right.

Sergei's voice, but their faces floated in front of his horrified eyes.

See all the trouble you cause? All the death and suffering is because of you?

Alex shivered.

People should run from you. You bring pain, and death. Not pleasure. You fail, Alex. But more than that...

Alex whimpered.

You killed their dreams. You're not allowed to kill them, Alex. Only who and what we say.

He tensed, waiting for the first blow.

The swarthy thug watched Alex as he lay twitching in uneasy sleep. He'd been waiting for the pretty foreigner to fall asleep. Now as Alex mumbled and tossed, he crept closer to him, his mouth watering at the pale flesh that gleamed in the faintly lit cell.

Alex stiffened, feeling a presence near him. He moaned. Was it a boss, or a prisoner? Would he flee or fight?

Opening his eyes, taking in the musty smells, he remembered where he was. Tunisia.

He still felt the shape over him. He decided to wait, and see what happened.

Alyosha whimpered softly.

Sascha waited.

Carefully, the silent man crept closer, his hand reaching out to smother the sounds this sleeping infidel might make. He was going to love this. The slim strength of the newcomer had burned a hole in the back of his eyes, and now, Allah be praised, he would possess the lush lips; the strong body would be his.

He placed his outstretched hand over Alex's mouth and leaned in to overpower him.

Raptor-quick, Alex's hand fastened around the other's wrist, and his other was at his neck. He growled. He was Sascha now...

Krycek pulled the man close. "Think you're gonna rape the American, don't you?" He squeezed his fingers, crushing the man's larynx. "Well, I'm not American. You are wrong, it would appear."

He spread his fingers to catch the carotid artery in his grip, and squeezed, cutting off the blood to the man's brain. He kept squeezing, staring intently as the look of panic he knew would overtake the other's face made its first appearance in his eyes.

Life ebbed from the would-be attacker almost before he realized that the pain was death coming to claim him. As his body subsided onto the straw covered concrete, others within the cell noted, and became afraid.

Krycek sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the others with eyes full of menace. "Anyone else want a piece of me?"

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Dustin made his excuses and disappeared back to his room as soon as he could. He was shocked, unsettled, and all his intentions had been subsumed in sheer panic at the thought that Alex was to be executed. In his mind, it might already be too late, and he pictured his Alex, blindfolded and shot before anyone could rescue him. His body felt leaden. He didn't even bother to strip off his clothes, but merely lay down on the bed and slowly began to work through his memories of Alex.

Jack had been working too long. He stretched, and got up. No prisoners to torture for a long time... and Alex gone, too. He had been told there was another, though... one who had killed Pyotor.

He smirked. Pyotor was a fool. As to another Alex, how could that be?

He had to see for himself. He didn't believe it for a moment, of course, yet... He'd overheard Malia say something to a cook.. Wasn't she the one who found Pyotor? He thought she had been...

Taking a small knife and slipping it into his jacket, he stalked upstairs to Dustin's room, the fabled room where the new Alex was said to be.

Jack worked in the dungeons. He didn't come up here very often.

Opening the door, he was stunned to see Krycek lying on the bed clothed in a fine suit, looking angelic, yet somehow troubled.

He smiled. Just the way he liked them... walking over he placed his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Dustin, right?" He felt his cock leap to attention as his eyes roamed his body. Just like Alex... so much like him.

"You know who you look like, don't you? Are you as good in the sack as he is?" Jack's teeth flashed in a nasty grin, fetid breath gusting toward Dustin. "Let's find out, shall we?"

Dustin was numb, half asleep and half shocked. For a moment he stared, uncomprehending.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my room?" He raised his hands to press them against his face in a gesture that he hoped looked like panic. "Why don't you go away and let me sleep?

"I'm Jack, baby," Jack sneered. "I used to love Alex... if you know what I mean. But you'll do. But, who are you?" Jack lay down, running his hands over Dustin's body lewdly. "Where did you come from? No matter. We may as well make the most of what we have." He began undoing Dustin's pants. "I just can't believe this... must be my lucky day."

Dustin gasped, and then moaned pitifully, his hands moving to cover his eyes. He wanted to seem as unthreatening as possible.

"I don't understand," he said in a voice made breathy by shock. "What are you doing this for? Why do you want to hurt me?" His hand slipped to the back of his neck and rubbed. "I've got a headache. Let me sleep, please."

Jack smiled. "Aww, come on. I used to take Alex's headaches away by fucking him... he said I made him feel good. Since you're so like him, maybe you'll like it too, sweet thing." He pulled Dustin's pants all the way off. "My, my. Such a pretty boy. No wonder the Master keeps you up here, where we can't get at you."

He laughed. "But Pyotor told us all about you. I heard you killed him."

He reached into his pants, undoing his fly and yanking out his stiff cock. "Now I think I just insert tab A into slot B..." He began feeling around, preparing to do just that. He spread Dustin's legs roughly with a huge hand.

Dustin lay, unprotesting and passive. As the large blond guard knelt on the bed to facilitate the introduction of his cock into Dustin's ass, Dustin risked reaching under his pillow, and his hand closed on the hilt of the knife that was his talisman. He waited, gathering his strength.

Jack had ceased to pay any attention to what Dustin was doing, as he scrabbled about with his fingers, trying to center his dick. Dustin breathed deeply, and tightened his muscles.

"Guess what?" he inquired.

"What, baby? Won't take me but a minute and we'll be off," said the guard, brightly.

"You lose!" Cat fast, Dustin sat, knife in hand, and plunged it into the blond's neck. "Shouldn't have told me about Alex. I don't like people who hurt Alex."

Jack died, astonished.

With a grimace of fear and disgust, Dustin picked up the phone and called for Malia.

Malia walked into the room. "Again, they hurt you," she said softly, taking him in her arms. "Why can't they leave you alone?"

She kissed his cheek, stroking his hair. "Let me get this cleared up, and then we can find you a clean place to stay. I really am going to have to talk to the Master about this... when's Alex coming back?"

She placed another call, and two other workers came to cart Jack's body away.

She began stripping the bed.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

When sleep came to Dustin at last, he was almost too tired to care where he was. His mattress had been replaced, and clean bedding had been brought for him. He'd showered and now lay naked amidst fresh sheets, his mind endlessly racing as he tried to put the day's experiences behind him.

His sudden drift into sleep was a relief. His body stilled at last, and his mind broke free and wound its way to wherever dreamers go, leaving him at rest, one hand curled loosely around the knife that was his only friend.

Krycek lay on his pallet. After he'd killed the would-be rapist, none had bothered him, except for one man who complained that the guards might not move the body for days and there certainly wouldn't be any food for days, either.

"I've handled worse," Alex assured him, as he lay back down.

As he drifted into sleep, he worked hard to keep his mind blank, or at least on a positive topic.

He smiled as he recalled Dustin, and as he slipped away, his last conscious thought was, "Hey baby. I know I'm far away right now... but I feel you as if you're here with me. Holding me, your hair so soft. Your eyes holding mine... I feel so safe with you."

It seemed to Dustin as though Alex were with him, soft skin pressed against his body, arm around him as he buried his lips into Dustin's hair. Alone in his bed, he shifted position slightly, and sighed. Alex's mouth whispered over his face, grazed his lips, and then drew away, while his lover's eyes bored into his.

"I know that you aren't real, but I love you so. Stay with me. Don't leave me again." Dustin's cry was plaintive.

Dream-Alex kissed Dustin's hair. "I never wanted to leave you the first time." He pulled Dustin close, and folded his arms around him. "I'll always be with you... so long as you love me. Just... love me?" Alex lifted Dustin's chin to gaze into his eyes. "Aww, Little Cub. Why do you look so sad? I'm here, am I not?" He reached to kiss those red lips, longing to feel Dustin's return kiss.

The sweet and lazy glide of tongue on tongue, and the firm pressure of moist lips was a thrill that made Dustin gasp. He slid his hand up the firm back until it reached the nape of Alex's neck. There he paused, stroking and fondling.

"You've been hurt, love. What have they done to you? Tell me you're okay?" Dustin's fingers danced over cuts and grazes that he hadn't felt before.

Alex winced to think that even in his dreams, his cuts and hurts were revealed to Dustin. "I'm fine, baby. Little cub. As long as you love me... I can take anything. I'm in jail now, but I promise you, I'll be out soon, some how, some way..." His voice had an edge of need and longing in it.

He ran his hands over Dustin's smooth skin. "But what has he done to you? Has he made you... turned you yet? It doesn't sound like he has... I hope he doesn't torture you and make you turn though. You... I can't imagine him hurting you. Are you still there?"

"Turned me? He'd have to kill me first, love." Dustin laughed, happy for the first time in weeks. This wasn't real, but for now, it would do. "He thinks that he can make me into something. I don't quite know what, but it won't be good, whatever it is. He plays games with me, but there's no way he can stop me from loving you. I... you may not want me any more when you know."

"Not want you...? Love, love... if you've seen me, and known me... you know what I am. If you can forgive me that... I think I can forgive you anything. What is he making you into?" He was concerned, and a little frown creased his nose.

"You know that he fucks me. Sometimes... sometimes I come. Not always. Sometimes I can't stop myself, but that isn't it. You know that the only way he will agree to keep you alive is if I'm his good little fucktoy. The thing that you won't like... " Dustin paused, wishing he hadn't started this. "I've killed people." He waited then for the cry of horror that he was sure would come.

Alex paused. "He always made me come, too, no matter how hard I tried not to. But, lover... what's this about you killing? Why did you do it? Did..." Alex's lip trembled. "Did he make you do it?"

Alex hoped his love wasn't being forced to fuck everyone in the Consortium, as he felt he had been. "Did he?"

"No." The word was so definite, and so full of pride that Dustin himself was surprised. "Pyotor and Jack tried to rape me. I killed them because they were less than human and I didn't want them touching me. The doctor... He was an animal. I watched him hurt you on the tapes, and I had to do it. I cut his throat when he tried to control me with words that he programmed you to respond to. You should have seen him, love. He was so shocked." Dustin spoke defiantly; terrified that Alex would be disgusted, and go. When he didn't move straight away, Dustin sought his mouth, brushing kisses over him again and again.

"Pyotor and.." Alex was instantly alarmed. "He threw you in the dungeon, love?" Alex tightened his hold on Dustin. "Oh, God, no..."

"Hush, baby. No. They came to me. They both thought that I'd be a pushover if they came and stuck it to me in my sleep. They didn't bargain for my knife. I love my knife, sweetheart." Dustin kissed Alex again, feeling himself grow hot as he did so. "Blood for you, love, but not enough to erase what they've done to you."

When Dustin mentioned the doctor, Alex spat, "He deserved what he got. I hate him... I always hated him. He thought if he gave me candy after, it was all right." He smiled thinly as he imagined LaPierre's reaction when Dustin didn't respond as he would have. "I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall," he said, kissing Dustin's nose. "He never touched you, did he?"

Dustin laughed. "He was so sure that he could just use me and not face any consequences. He was pathetic. It was a pleasure." His hands moved down the body of his dream lover. He could feel the hardness of Alex's erection pressing against him like steel. "God, I love you, ghost-man."

"Dustin..." Alex wrapped his hands around Dustin's face again. "Thoughts of revenge can be so sweet. But be careful that they don't damn your soul... Spender is crafty, and I fear that he would use your need for vengeance against you. I'm okay, love. I'll be fine, as long as you love me, and I can come home to you."

Feeling Dustin move down his body, he sighed. "And as long as you always make me feel this good... I'm putty in your hands." He pressed against Dustin, sighing. "Oh babe... Ghost-Man, huh?" he laughed. "Does this feel like a ghost to you?" He grabbed Dustin and rolled him over, so he was on top of him, and looked down at Dustin as he lay below him on his back.

"Who you gonna call?" murmured Dustin with a small snicker of laughter. "Is that ectoplasm in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" He gave himself up to the insistence of the movements that Alex was making against him, his dick beginning to pulse as it slid between their bodies. Spreading his thighs apart, he wrapped his legs around the body in his arms, and glued his mouth to his lover's.

Alex smirked. "You haven't changed a bit. Good." He stayed there a moment, just reveling in the feel of Dustin's legs around him, and then he thrust inside, hard and fast. "My Little Cub..."

Attaching his mouth to Dustin's once more, he began thrusting in and out slowly, wanting to make this last.

No one had ever loved him enough to kill for him, or let someone...

Alex moaned. "Love you so much, Dustin... why do you love me? Where did you come from?"

"Oh, Jeez. Let's not talk philosophy. I'm gonna come." Dustin pulled Alex's mouth down to meet his searching lips. He could feel the first prickling tingles as his body responded to the insistent motion of Alex's thrusting cock. "Just fuck me. Do it hard."

Alex grinned at his love, propping himself up on his hands. "All right baby, hold on... here it comes."

He tensed his body, and began thrusting hard and fast, biting his lip as he felt his balls tightening . This was for Dustin, and he wanted it to last.

Gazing at Dustin, he felt a familiar rush of power wash over him. "Slut..." he murmured.

"Your slut," gasped Dustin as the white heat flashed over him, and all he could do was ride it out, tense and trembling beneath the gripping hand and bruising hips. He felt the hot flood inside him as Alex gave him his juices, and shuddered awake, covered in the stickiness of his orgasm.

"No! No! Please... Come back to me." He was alone, and his dream lover was merely a memory. Tears burned his sinuses, and it was a very long time before he slept again.

Alex felt a glow as Dustin confirmed he was his slut, and an outpouring as he came... and he awoke, sweaty and damp. He was clutching himself in his hands, and he tried to close his eyes, to return to Dustin, but sleep wasn't to be found.

"Lover... come back," he moaned. "Please..." He blinked, trying again to find his lover. Finally, he closed his eyes, hugged himself, and rocked himself to sleep, not even realizing it when he put his thumb in his mouth.

He wanted to be loved...

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Spender sat at his desk, writing and reading emails. He'd been told about Jack's intrusion into Dustin's room, and was looking forward to viewing the tape of the event. It was a shame to lose another dungeon worker, but thugs were a dime a dozen. As long as Dustin was happy to kill them, he could always find more, he knew.

Dustin. He lit a cigarette and inhaled, as he thought of his latest problem.

From what he had heard, Dustin hadn't hesitated in killing him. Before the man had even started to rape him.

And... Ah, here was the tape now. Taking it from the lackey who brought it, he dismissed the man, and popped it in the VCR.

Leaning back in his chair, he noticed that Dustin said he didn't like people who hurt Alex. He was still working through that then. Spender needed to work on that... needed to get Dustin to give him some allegiance. Show him some.

He closed his eyes, inhaling again. Mulder... Mulder had been a good way to get to Alex. Might he be to Dustin, too?

He reached across his desk for the phone, and called Dustin in his room, to summon him to his office.

Dustin was still in the shower when the summons came, and he groaned. The old man rarely sent for him until evening. This was probably going to be unpleasant. He finished his shower and dressed with care, trying to make himself as attractive as possible, and knowing that no matter what he did the old man would have seen it all before.

Alex was so much sexier than he was. He knew he was a babe-magnet, but Alex had an earthiness that caught the breath, and Dustin knew himself for a poor imitation. He frowned. How was he going to find a therapist that could undo the things that had been done to Alex without continuing to hang around the evil old man who ruled this domain? He had to stay civil, put up with the Smoker's unwelcome attentions for now. Alex would be cured. He, Dustin, had sworn it.

Sighing, he checked his reflection in the mirror, and then went to play his deadly game.

Spender looked up at the sound of Dustin's approach. He had been giving his video a second look - he smiled urbanely at Dustin and pressed the "rewind" button.

"Just looking over your handiwork from last night, my boy." He chuckled. "Come here, and let's have a kiss." He stood up and walked over to the younger man.

Dustin felt the flutter in his belly that told of his terror. What did the old man want of him? Was he to be punished for defending himself? He accepted the kiss, and waited for Spender to tell him what was on his mind. Somewhere inside himself he was screaming. He smiled at Spender, hoping that he wasn't telegraphing the fear he felt.

"Sorry about that. He wanted to touch what wasn't his."

"I know, son." Spender pulled him into his arms. "You did the right thing. But was it for the right reason?" He lifted Dustin's chin, staring hard into his eyes. "Was it for you, or for that slut of yours? The one you say you love. Well, that's over now anyway... Unless..." Spender pursed his lips, appearing deep in thought.

"Who do you belong to, Dustin?"

"You know the answer to that, sir. Alex is my owner." Dustin's voice caught as he whispered his answer. "All that I am... I belong to him. I can't lie to you, sir."

Spender sighed. "After all I've given you... you still remain faithful to him? A schoolboy's love, perhaps. He was your first male lover, wasn't he?" Spender pulled Dustin close, kissing his mouth tenderly.

He couldn't believe it, but it actually hurt him inside, someplace so deep he thought it was hidden even from himself, to hear Dustin insist Alex was his owner.

"My boy... I would give you the world. You aren't Alex's first male lover, you know... Did he ever tell you about Fox Mulder?"

"We didn't have time to go over our lives, sir. I know that he's had lovers - many of them. Their names don't really interest me. I'm not naïve. I've had lovers myself. I'm hardly a schoolboy; I'm 38 years old. What calls me to Alex is what he is. He is my heart, and without him, I have none." Dustin sat down, desolation written on his face. "I don't want the world, you see. All I want now I know all I ever wanted was Alex."

Spender's eyes darkened, and he walked over to Dustin. "Ungrateful boy," he said. "You could have had it all. But now..." He reached down a hand to drag Dustin out of the chair with sudden force. "Now I have to show you who you really do belong to. You only think you belong to Alex."

He pressed a button, and a heavyset man appeared in the doorway. He jerked his head in Dustin's direction. "Take him to the dungeon. You know the room, the one with the rack. Set him up... I'll be down in awhile."

The thug nodded eagerly. "Yes, Sir. Will he give me any trouble, Sir?"

Spender looked at Dustin. "Not if he wants to live," he said, crisply and dispassionately.

Dustin's mouth was dry. His heart was racing, but still he looked at the old man and smiled wryly.

"Could have had it all? I don't think so. You won't give me the one thing that I want." Turning away from the Smoker, he took the thug's arm. "Come on. Lets get it over with. It was always going to happen."

The thug grunted. "Come on, then." He began to lead Dustin down the hall, to the elevators. "You are a strange one. Usually we have to drug people to get them to come down here."

Stepping onto the elevator, Steve looked at Dustin curiously. "So what'd you do to piss him off? You're his golden boy, you know. Or you were..."

The elevator chimed to a stop, and Steve led Dustin off, and down the dim hallway.

"I mean, he... he hasn't been this way about anyone! Well, Alex, but Alex was different..." Steve studied Dustin closely. "Although you know, you do look a lot like him..."

Steve led Dustin to a dark, dank room with a metal bed in it, with straps - the bed Alex had been strapped to, earlier. "Here we are, Dustin. I'm sure you know where we want you. Why are you so... damn cooperative? Are you naive? Or stupid? Or both?"

Sighing, Dustin shrugged his shoulders. "Would there be any point in fighting? I don't think so. It would just get him off watching, wouldn't it?" He moved to lie on the bed. "Just do it. Get it over with."

Steve chuckled. "You gotta strip for this one, cutie. Then you can lie down."

Blushing, Dustin slipped out of his clothes, folding them neatly and laying them aside. "Of course. What was I thinking?" he muttered. "Don't you ever feel like an extra from Flash Gordon? A minion of Ming the Merciless?"

Steve didn't miss a beat. "Actually, at times I feel more like Igor," he said, a touch sadly.

"Why the hell do you do it?" Dustin lay down on the metal, and shivered involuntarily. Keep talking. Keep the nightmares at bay, he told himself.

Steve began fastening the straps. "Well, Alex shivers so nicely. Too bad he's not here... I used to love to talk to Alex. Sometimes, he was just like a little boy... is he going to do that to you? Make you a little boy?"

"Who the hell knows what he's going to do to me. I don't think so, but that and $10.00 will get me into see a movie. Whatever. You know, all I feel at the moment is pissed off." Dustin ground his teeth. "That old snake lies and cheats. Someday he'll be sorry."

"Lies and cheats, huh?" Steve strapped Dustin's arms down. "How does he do that exactly? He always treated me well enough."

"The things he promises are lies. He takes what he wants and then goes back on his word. Don't worry about it." Dustin closed his eyes. "Just bring it on, bud. Let's not hang around."

Steve ran a hand over Dustin's chest. "Such smooth skin," he murmured. He strapped Dustin's legs, then found some electrodes. "I bet you know where these go." He smiled slightly, and attached them to Dustin's dick, balls, and nipples. "Comfy yet?" he sneered. "Time for me to go tell the master you're ready for him. He may be awhile - or not. You never know with him."

He shrugged, and began walking away, toward the hall.

Left to his own devices, Dustin looked around himself, and then closed his eyes, trying to conjure up a picture of his beloved. He'd seen so many videotapes of him lying here. He knew that his life was about to change - again - and he wanted the comfort of Alex before his eyes. He sank into a restless doze. Spender smiled to himself as he took his private elevator to the dungeon level. It was two hours from the time Steve first told him Dustin was ready - in the interim he'd finished up some paper and lab work he'd had.

On his way down, he reflected that Dustin was used to being pampered... acted with such an air of entitlement. Spender doubted if he'd ever wanted for anything in his life, and wondered again how he had been attracted to Alex.

Walking into the room that held Dustin, he stood for a moment, taking in the beauty of the man who lay before him.

Alexei...

Spender lit a cigarette. "Do you know why you're down here, boy?" he asked in a gravelly tone. The voice broke through Dustin's reverie, leaving him bereft as his vision of his lover faded, to come face to face with grim reality. He raised his long lashes, and stared at the old man.

"Of course I do," he said, shortly. 'I'm here at your whim."

Spender walked over to him, and leaned down so he could whisper sibilantly right into Dustin's ear. "You would do well, boy, to remember that I have the power to make life extremely unpleasant for you. Now, you want to try that one again?"

His hand hovered above a lever that would turn on the electricity to the electrodes. He didn't press it, but if he knew Dustin, he'd have to use it on him.

"What do you want me to say to you? That I don't love Alex? Not true. Wishing won't make it true. Torturing me won't make it true. Killing me will only make it true to the extent that I won't be here any longer. You wish that I loved you, and that makes you angry, but think about it. How is this going to change things?" Dustin licked his lips. "You can make me fear you, certainly. You could make me like you, if you tried, but you can't force love from me. If that's the wrong answer, so be it."

Spender almost dropped his cigarette. "Love me? What makes you think I care if you love me or not?" He stroked Dustin's hair. "I have Alex. He shows me a... kind of love. I ... how could I make you like me? I... yes, I want your love, Dustin. How did you know?" Spender kissed Dustin's cheek, hoping he had buttered him up. If he thought what he wanted was that simple...

"You are strong... so much stronger than he. He never lashed out at us. How is it that you do?"

"Me? Lash out? I don't lash out at anyone." Dustin was astonished. "I killed the guy who came to torment me, and I enjoyed doing it. He thought that I was easy meat. Is that so wrong? You could make me like you by being honest with me. You seem to feel that the only way to make people do things is to coerce them. That's not true. Earn their affection and they'll do far more for you."

Spender thought for a moment. "Is that true?" If the truth be told, he had never seen another option than the one to rule by force, absolutely. "You could... love me, even after all I've done to Alex?" He bent down to kiss Dustin's cheek. "Alex used to be a willful boy. I needed to show him who was boss. But you..." He straightened up suddenly; unnerved by the direction the conversation was taking.

"You presume to think I care what you think of me?"

Dustin gave a short laugh. "Isn't that what this whole thing is all about?" He paused for a moment, frowning as he tried to marshal his thoughts. "I notice that you decided that you'd bring me down here as soon as I said that I love Alex, and yet I've never lied to you. It's not as if that was news to you. You can hurt me. You probably will, but I'm not Mackey. I'm not Alex, and what you do is for your own self-esteem. Nothing more."

Spender turned. "For that I should hurt you. Yet... would there be any point in it? You're a spoiled little boy who expects to be pampered. I think I'll just leave you here. Let you stew in your own juices for a while. But, no, you'd like that too much, wouldn't you?" He walked back over to Dustin's side. "I do have a party to attend tonight, and I'll want you with me. But you need to learn your place." He put his hand on the button again, then took it back. Then replaced it. "You don't think I'll do it, do you?"

Almost surprising himself, he pressed the button, turning on the juice. He kept it on for about five seconds, staring down at Dustin dispassionately.

"That hurt me more than you," he said finally.

Pain blossomed in Dustin's body, and he gasped. When the Smoker spoke, he began to laugh again, uncontrollable gusts of mirth that shook his body until the tears started in his eyes. He shook his head and lay back, closing his eyes. In a way, now that he was being hurt, he felt a great and profound relief.

Spender stared at Dustin. He was laughing... the insolent boy was laughing. He figured he could fix that.

"Dustin," he said, to get his attention. "I need you to come with me tonight. Otherwise, I would show you first hand what we did to Alex."

As it was, he figured he might have to do that to get Dustin to deny Alex. Even if he couldn't, if he could just get him to scream, like he had that day, the day Alex had agreed to go to El Habibi...

He pressed and held the button down for ten seconds this time.

"Still laughing, boy?"

Oh, fuck, it hurt. One day, old man... One day I will have you where I am now, and you will remember and be afraid. Dustin closed his eyes, willing his body to shut down. Alex loomed behind his eyelids, smiling fondly as he beckoned to him. I'm coming, wait for me, baby. He felt himself fall into a velvet blackness where Alex waited for him.

Spender looked down at Dustin. So the boy wouldn't show fear or pain... well, he'd see how long that would last. He ran his hand over Dustin's chest, then up to his neck and over his face. He tweaked one of Dustin's ears.

Opening his eyes, Dustin stared back at Spender. "What? Just do it, and get it over with, why don't you? You're going to anyway."

"Do what, my boy?" Spender smiled congenially.

"You're going to hurt me. I know it. You've been working up to it for days. Just get it over with." Dustin's voice caught.

Spender ran his hands over Dustin's chest, lightly. "And why would I want to hurt you, my sweet one, hmm? What could you possibly have done to deserve such a thing?" Spender's tone was solicitous.

"You tell me," snorted Dustin. "It's your paranoia we're dealing with. Not mine. As far as I'm concerned, you can just let me go and I'll go back to my room and read a good book."

"My paranoia?" Spender's smile widened. "Should I be paranoid, Dustin? Are you... planning something? Planning on being a naughty boy, and you subconsciously wish for punishment for such thoughts?" Spender smiled even more thinly, widely, and predatorily. "I'm sure you're wondering why Alex never killed me himself. How I ensured he wouldn't." He stroked Dustin's hair. "I know you want to know. Go on, ask," he invited. "Pure Oedipus..."

"Oh, come on. What could I possibly be planning? All I want is to have Alex back, and that's just what you can't stand, isn't it?" Dustin flinched at the movement the old man made. "I'm not pretending anything. I've been as honest with you as I know how, but still I'm here. Why is that? I didn't ask for it."

"Oh, you didn't?" Spender leaned down to kiss Dustin's lips. In a syrupy tone, he said. "You mean you're not just waiting for your Daddy to punish you? Guilt is a powerful thing, Dustin. Guilt... and anxiety. Do you recall Orestes, of Greek mythology?"

"Who played him in the movie of the week?" sneered Dustin. "I get all these Greeks mixed up. Was he Anthony Quinn or Charlton Heston?" He shivered again. The sheer uncertainty was frightening. "The only guilt I have, is over Mackey."

Good start, Spender thought. "You have something in common with your lover, then. Tell me about this guilt." Spender continued stroking Dustin's body, running his hands lower over Dustin's thighs. "This guilt over Mackey. Why do you feel guilty about him? You? The man who sees people only as routes to promotion, to success? The man who uses people," Spender finished with a sneer.

"You see me as a user? That's unfair. I've used people in the past, but no more than they used me." Dustin's brow furrowed as he pondered. "The guilt I feel is for taking Alex from Mackey when he loves him so much, but even I can see that he isn't what Alex needs. I'm what Alex needs."

Spender sighed theatrically, and lit a cigarette. Inhaling deeply, he said, "That's fairly presumptive of you, wouldn't you say? To presume that you, Dustin, are so much better for Alex than a man he's known for over a decade. A man who's been there with him."

Spender exhaled, and began running his hand along Dustin's inner thigh. "You think you can give Alex what he needs. What does Alex need?"

"He needs someone who won't just cave in when he gets angry. He needs a companion, not a plaything. He needs someone who can stand up to him, but won't. He needs someone who loves him. He needs me, goddammit. And I need him!"

Spender smirked. "Isn't that sweet. A companion for my son. You don't think Mackey serves him well? Mackey would die for my son. You can best that? Oh, I can tell you he was quite bereft by the loss of Alex." Spender rolled his cigarette idly between his fingers.

"I know that Mackey would die for him. That's why I feel guilty, but I would too. I'd die for him if he needed that. Thing is, I'd far rather live for him." Dustin stared at the gloomy ceiling, picturing the last time that they'd been together, wishing that this were the dream, and his dream of the previous night the reality instead.

"You'd rather live for him? Then you should leave him, and never see him again. You know what becomes of his friends, don't you? The source of most of his guilt. I received another phone call. It seems Marita Covarrubias is dead, as well. And the boy Günter, that Alex tried to save. Dead. As everyone he loves ends up. Are you not worried?"

"I'll take my chances. I could be dead tomorrow anyway. Someone might hit me with a champagne bottle and then it would be lights out." Dustin smiled wryly. "I could have lived to be your age and not known what being in love was like. That would have been death in a way too. If he loves me, I can stand to die young." The smile had remained on his face as he spoke. Now it left his face, and his eyes became intense. "Please, let us be together." He said no more.

Spender laid a hand over Dustin's shoulder. "I'm doing my best, my boy. But you must know these Middle Eastern countries... they are not forgiving of murderers. Which is, I'm afraid, all they see Alex as - a fairly vicious one, at that. I understand he left quite a mess behind." Spender shook his head sadly. "What do you think of a man who kills like that? You would want to be with him?"

"I do. I want to be with him. Can I? Please?" Dustin was smiling again, unable to move and yet eager in his enthusiasm, the love shining from him.

Spender smiled back at Dustin. "Ah... young love," he sighed. "You seem true. But are you so sure Alex would love you as truly? Or as well? How do you know he isn't loving his cell mate now, for some food even or maybe water? He isn't known for his fidelity, you know."

"Am I so much better then?" Dustin asked, his voice breaking as he spoke to his tormentor. "After all, here I am, permitting the same thing to happen." He stared at the old man, willing him to see the truth of his love, knowing that it wouldn't be enough, but trying anyway. "You don't understand. Love isn't about control, it's about giving."

"Really? Is that how you felt when Alex first approached you? Let me guess. The first thing he did was give you a blowjob... or at least offer one. Tell me, did he stroke you, while his eyes never left yours, lips opening slightly, moist, licking his lips, ready to take it... oh so ready..." As Spender spoke, he became increasingly erect, until his cock strained in his slacks. He ran his hand over Dustin's balls and cock, lightly, lazily. "He wanted to please you, didn't he? What was your first reaction, Dustin, hmm? I'll know if you lie."

What was this old bastard wanting from him? A voyeuristic experience? Oh well. He could certainly provide that. "Uh... No, actually, he crowded me. Made me suck him. Told me I had to pay for his services. Did he sell me short then?"

Spender cocked his head. "No? He didn't try to please you first? He must be forgetting his lessons... he needs to be re-taught. Thank you," Spender said abruptly, replacing his hand on Dustin's cock. "I'll be sure to tell him it was you who told me where he needed... correction. Retraining." Spender stroked Dustin's cock, still hooked to the electrodes. "He should have sucked you first, and made sure you got off."

"But it was sort of mutual. He gave me pleasure. He did. He and I... It was together. I didn't know how, and he showed me." Dustin thought back. "I came first, you know... He wouldn't be denied." He closed his lips. Somehow it seemed to debase the experience, this sharing it with his lover's enemy. He would keep what he could to himself.

"So he did try to please you. Or are you just saying that, so that I won't punish him for it? Noble, noble. But you said... he cornered you. Of course he wouldn't be denied. He isn't meant to be. I would have to punish him more seriously if you could deny him. My boy..." Spender smiled proudly. "Tell me more, about your first time with him. I bet you thought you were straight, before you met him."

"Yeah, I was straight. I am straight. There's just something about him that my soul recognizes. It speaks to me, and all I can do is listen. He and I... We're linked in a way that you won't understand. I couldn't have understood it until I met him. Now, I can't live without him." Again, Dustin was silent. His love was something incomprehensible, something he had never expected to feel, and against which he had no defenses.

Spender smiled warmly. "That's my Alex. He'll steal your heart before you know it." He looked away. "You really do love him, don't you?" Spender said this in an almost wondering tone. "You, who had the world at his feet... you love Alex."

Dustin didn't speak; he merely nodded once, and then lay silent. Old man, he thought. You are a dead man. One day, I will remind you of this, and then I'll have your life from you, but first, I'll make sure that your dreams are dead, and that you know how they died. Allowing his eyelids to sweep down so that his thick lashes fanned out over high cheekbones, he waited to see what was next on the agenda.

Spender chuckled. Did the boy really believe he could shut him out by closing his eye, fluttering his eyelashes down? Pretty eyelashes to be sure. The gesture was one Alex often made, and Spender had to smile.

He ran his hand back and down, towards Dustin's anus. "You know, you really are good at pleasuring me. Quite talented. I might just have to take you before the party tonight." He unzipped his fly with his other hand, quickly pulling his cock out.

"Oh, sweet Dustin." He pushed one of his fingers inside Dustin's anus, feeling for his prostate. Finding it, he began stroking it lightly. "You'll be my good boy, won't you?"

"Why don't you let me go? You won't be able to do anything like this. I'm sure that it would be more comfortable for everyone concerned if I wasn't trussed up like a Christmas turkey." Stay patient, Dusty boy, his lust is the key. Willing himself to accept the caresses, Dustin thought of Alex, and of the things that Alex had taught him to do.

Spender nodded. "Are you going to be a good boy, then?" He began to take the electrodes off of Dustin's dick, caressing it as he did so. When it was free of leads, he bent his head and took Dustin's dick into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head. Stiffening his tongue, he paused to tongue the ridge under the head, where it joined the shaft undoing the leads from Dustin's balls as he did.

Not daring to relax, or even to breathe, Dustin felt himself responding to the caresses. He wondered if this were a respite, or if it was merely a ploy to relax him before resuming the onslaught. His cock was throbbing now, close to explosion as the terror of the earlier events gave way to relief.

Spender smiled, taking Dustin's balls into his mouth, one at a time, before working his way back to that hard cock. Scarcely daring to believe how hard Dustin was, he licked him again, then took him into his mouth, deep.

Dustin closed his eyes. Alex, Alex, if it were only you, he thought. The tightness along his inner thighs and the tingle of his rising seed made him groan, and he bit back a cry. The old bastard was determined to mess with his body, and he could do nothing about it. This being so, he might as well give in and permit it to wash over him. Shuddering, he climaxed into the mouth of his tormentor.

Spender smiled, sucking at Dustin as he came, being sure to swallow every drop. He wanted Dustin to know he was truly at his mercy, and to humiliate him. What better way than to have him come into his mouth, eager and oh so willing? Or so it would appear. Taking his hand, he moved it up Dustin's chest, tweaking his nipples. "You see, Dustin? I can give you pleasure, deep pleasure. As well as the alternative," he hastened to add.

"Are you going to be good for me?"

"When," panted Dustin, still taken by aftershocks. "When was I not? Have I done anything that you can say you didn't want me to do? Tell me what it was." Limp now, Dustin lay recovering, wondering when he ever would be free again.

Spender caressed Dustin's belly as he looked up at him. "No... not yet you haven't. But then, what have I really asked you to do? Give yourself to me. But I haven't given you to others, or sent you on a job... I've treated you well, haven't I? I just want something back."

Spender released the bonds on Dustin's legs, then kissed his way up Dustin's body, releasing his arms and chest straps.

"Be good, boy," he growled, lust evident in his voice.

He stood up, pulling Dustin to his feet beside him, then moved swiftly towards the wall, pressing him against it. "What can Alex give you? All he is, is a killer and a saboteur... and a whore. That's all he's ever been. I can give you so much more. I can give you him, too... but not to love. He can't be loved... he won't know what to do with love."

"You forget that he is human." Dustin knew that he shouldn't speak, but he had to; he needed to make this evil thing see, understand the harm he was inflicting. "I'm human too. I need him."

That does it, he thought. I'm going to be so sorry for talking back, but I had to try. I don't know what will happen to us now. This old bastard is totally deranged. He schooled his expression to softness, and raised his eyes to the Smoker. "We all need love. Don't you wish for it yourself sometimes?"

Spender put his arm around Dustin, holding him close. "Of course I do. Just as you do. You say that Alex is human... well, yes, he is. But he's not like you or I. Perhaps he was, once. But now... now he would look at you calmly and shoot your mother where she stands, then tell you he's yours forever, after which he'd go tell the same to some girl. Is that the kind of man you want beside you?"

Spender kissed Dustin's neck. "Of course you wouldn't, dear boy. You need someone truer... someone who can love in return."

"I do?" Dustin clamped his lips together in a movement designed to prevent him from betraying his revulsion. He would get through this, he would. "How do you understand love? What do you think that it means?" He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. This had gone on far too long.

Spender caressed Dustin's face. "How do I understand love?" He looked past Dustin's shoulder, at the hard concrete wall. "I understand love is what people say they feel for each other when they live together... I guess I see it as an abstract. Something that gets in the way."

He pushed Dustin more firmly against the wall. "Men like us, my boy - we can't allow love to interfere with our minds, with our work. There's no place for it. Countries - worlds - could fall if we did. Of course, I've heard it said love can make you stronger... but that would be mature love. I don't believe you or Alex can feel that."

What use was there to protest? Dustin sighed, and hung his head. "Are we to stay here?" His inquiry was spoken in soft tones. He was still unsure what this old toad had planned for him, only that he knew he wouldn't like it. "You spoke of some party you wanted me to go to with you." Spender kissed Dustin. "That's tonight, my boy. Various Consortium dignitaries will be there... we need to figure out how to best deal with the latest strike by the alien rebels. You'll see." He pressed in closer. "You'd prefer a bed to a wall, my boy? Oh, but then we'd have to go all the way upstairs... and you look so hot, pressed against the wall. Such a clean-cut boy, pressed against a dirty wall...I love it." Spender placed his hands on Dustin's shoulders and moved to turn him so he faced the wall.

"You know how I like it, my boy," he said.

Spender breathed heavily into Dustin's ear as he fumbled with his cock, preparing to thrust it against and into Dustin's anus. "You're so tight, every time..."

Submitting to the old man with an inward sigh, Dustin permitted the intrusion, and his thoughts flew to Alex. How different this would be if his love were here. Within the core of him was a place that the Smoker could not touch; a place to which he retreated and where he kept the memories of his beloved. He gritted his teeth and waited for the Smoker to finish slaking his lust.

Spender ground and slammed his way into Dustin, growling as he did so. "Dustin... my boy. You're good... almost as good as Alex." He bit at Dustin's neck, reaching a hand around to stroke his cock in rhythm with his thrusts. "Let me get you off again. You're such a delight, and I do so love seeing you enjoy yourself."

He began grunting incoherently as he began thrusting harder into Dustin, ass clenching and unclenching.

Enjoy myself? Dustin's teeth ground themselves together despite his attempts at control. He wanted his knife. He wanted to sever the piece of proud flesh that intruded inside him. One day he would do it. One day, this old fuck would know what agony meant. Smiling tightly, he stood, feet braced, and permitted whatever the old man did, and in his mind, he was held, cradled warm and safe by Alex, who knew, and who understood.

Spender took Dustin's ear in his teeth, working his cock faster in his hands as orgasm neared. He didn't feel Dustin's orgasm approaching... he wanted to. He would hold off as long as he could...

In a move calculated to arouse, he moved a hand across Dustin's chest, tweaking his nipples, then began licking and sucking at Dustin's throat. He pushed himself in harder, deeper, higher, seeking the younger man's prostate.

I wonder if I can simulate an orgasm, Dustin mused. He clenched his buttocks, concentrating on trying to make things feel right. Anything to get the old bastard off his back. He gasped a little, and felt the old man speed up as he did so. He could do this. His hate would see him through.

Spender bit Dustin's shoulder as he felt him tighten. "Good, good," he murmured in his ear. "So good..." He moved a hand back to caress Dustin's ass as it tightened. "Do it, boy..." He stroked the boy's cock as he thrust in hard several times, grunting loudly as he exploded into Dustin.

Dustin held his peace, slowly relaxing as he felt the old man's erection fade. His body felt scratchy, his nerves abraded without any hopes of pleasure. He doubted whether anyone would be able to get him off again today. Now, he leaned obediently on the wall, awaiting the old man's pleasure. Who the hell knew what he would take it into his head to do?

Spender kissed Dustin's back and neck, then turned him around with an eager grin. "You feel so good..." Running a hand down his torso, he stopped when he reached Dustin's dry cock. "I see you didn't finish, boy. Would you like to?" He cocked his head. "I almost think you wouldn't."

Shit! Busted! Dustin raised his eyes to the old man and grinned apologetically. "That first one kinda killed me. I'm not as young as I used to be. I - I don't think that I've got another one in me." He shivered.

Spender looked at Dustin, his expression darkening. "You let Alex call you slut, and you always come for him. Whore for a whore, and you won't come when I tell you to?" He reached out and slapped him, then put his hand down to fondle his cock. "You need to obey me now, boy. I've had about enough of your moral high ground. Now that you know what you know about Alex, you still feel devotion to him?"

Dustin frowned. This man couldn't possibly be for real. Didn't he know that one can't just rip off an orgasm whenever one felt like it? He shivered at the thought of what might happen, and his partial erection disappeared completely. "It's not that I don't want to. It's that I can't. I came once already. It just doesn't work like that."

"Why not, boy? You never had a problem with Alex. You could always get off for him, when he told you to. Why won't you for me? It's time you realized your true position here. I've been babying you so far, trying to be kind. But what's it gotten me? I think I need to change your attitude, boy. You seem to think you're better than anyone. Except Alex. If you're better than anyone, it should be him." He shoved Dustin against the wall, roughly. "You were right the first time, you know. I just didn't see it." He shook him fiercely.

"Right first time? I don't understand. I don't know what you want from me." Dustin was shivering for real now. It seemed that his basking in the warmth of the Smoker's affection was over now. He'd known that the time would come, but this was so sudden that he had not had time to prepare himself. He felt sick. "I'm no better than anyone else. I don't know how I've offended."

"You act so proud. Yet you love a man that I created and broke. And now you dare to hold me in contempt. I can feel your rage, boy. I just don't know what to do with you. I thought you could be a great asset, a part of our team. But you're not that at all."

Shaking his head, Dustin raised a frightened face to the old man. "It's not a big deal. It isn't a personal insult - or it isn't intended to be. I already came, and I just don't seem to be able to... How the hell does that mesh with me being a member of a team? Haven't you ever been unable to get it up in your life?"

Spender held Dustin against the wall, searching his eyes. The boy seemed to be telling the truth... and he seemed frightened. That pleased him, seeing Dustin fear him. He felt back in control. Smiling thinly, he pressed himself against Dustin. The boy's fear was making him hard again, and he fondled Dustin's balls as he spoke. "I have, but I always persist until I get what I want."

"What do you want? Tell me what it is that you want." Dustin's voice cracked as he felt the old man renew his caresses. He was going to be in so much trouble, but his dick remained steadfastly limp. "I don't know what to do."

Spender slapped Dustin's face again, hard. "Don't give me that. You know what I want. Give it to me, and maybe I won't give you to anyone tonight."

The words made no sense... The man was mad. Dustin pressed back against the wall and began to scream.

"Shut up, boy." Spender clasped a hand over Dustin's mouth, using his body to pin him to the wall. Dustin's fright had brought him erect, and he fed on it, feeling stronger as he gazed into Dustin's fear-stricken eyes. He used his hands to force Dustin to kneel, staring at him darkly, still with a hand over his mouth. "I want you to suck me, off, Dustin. Can you be a good boy and do that?"

That was something he could do, and he nodded, leaning forward to take the old man into his mouth. While this was happening he needn't fear the torture he was sure would come. He applied himself to the penis he was sucking, and worked on it as though his life depended on it. He was almost sure that it did.

Spender gasped. Oh, this was joy. Having the man right where he wanted him, doing what he wanted. He was going to break him, show him his place. Thrusting fast and furiously into Dustin's mouth as he held his face in his hands, he said, "You know that you don't belong to Alex anymore, don't you?"

Fuck you! Now, more than ever, I belong to him...

Dustin said nothing, merely sucked harder, wondering if his ordeal would soon be over, or if there would be still more of the old man's posturing.

"Talk to me, boy." Spender grabbed his hair, yanking his head back so he could see Dustin's eyes. "Tell me who you belong to. And you know, if you give the wrong answer, I'll make a phone call, and you'll never see your whore alive again. Though why you would want to... he's nothing. He can give you nothing. Only I can. Say it, boy." He drew his leg back, kicking Dustin in the ribs once for emphasis, but holding Dustin upright by his head and hair, running a thumb over Dustin's face.

Inwardly, Dustin quailed. The bastard was telling him to deny Alex, and although he was being constrained to do so, his whole body cried out that the betrayal would be absolute, that he would lose his love if he did so. Finally, he closed his eyes against the anger he felt. "I love Alex. You know I love him. If I give myself to you, that is why. If you own me, that is why. If you want me, you should be thanking him."

"Thank Alex? I suppose I should. He found you, after all. Perhaps a finder's fee?" Spender actually laughed a little, but it wasn't a laugh that was at all pleasant. "Exactly why you should hate him, Dustin. Don't you suspect that was the little tramp's plan all along? To give you to me, in hopes to free himself?"

Smiling, Spender thrust his cock towards Dustin's mouth, jerking his head towards it. "Finish me, boy. And maybe I'll only let one or two men have you tonight, instead of five or ten."

Bending to his task, Dustin reapplied himself to the man's pleasure. If he could get out; if he could get out of the basement, and somehow achieve freedom, he would be able to see how to help Alex. One thing was certain, he wasn't going to permit the old fuck to prostitute him the way he had Alex. He wouldn't stand for that.

Spender clenched and unclenched his fist in Dustin's fine hair. "Good boy... good whore. That's what you are, you know." He tightened his hands in Dustin's hair, anticipating a reaction. Pulling Dustin towards him, he finished, "If I say you are."

"A whore gets paid. What will you pay me, sir?" Dustin wiped his lips with the back of his hand, still perfectly pliable as he knelt, but wondering with trepidation just what was coming next. He was beginning to think that he wouldn't make it out of here.

Spender stroked the side of Dustin's face. "Why, your love's life. Isn't that what you want?"

He couldn't help it; he smiled. The relief was so immense that he felt warmth flood his belly. "Yes, sir. Thank you. That's all I want. All I ever wanted."

Spender smiled cruelly, yanking Dustin's mouth back to his cock. "Be a good little whore, and he'll live. Do as I say. Do who I say. And maybe you'll even get to hold him again... feel his arms around you."

Shrugging, Dustin resumed his task. There was no way that he wouldn't see Alex again. He had made up his mind. He would. This was not going to go on forever, and when it came to an end, there would be no more. He wasn't sure how he'd achieve it, but he was going to get away before he was permanently injured.

Spender wrapped and arm around Dustin's shoulders as the boy began to suck him again. He'd learnt in his time with him, and his technique left almost nothing to be desired. Spender was a little surprised at how adept Dustin had become, but very pleasantly so. He fucked Dustin's throat fiercely, until he came with a low, guttural cry. "Lick it up, boy," he said.

At last! The old bastard had finally shot his load, and Dustin could breathe again. He crouched, panting as the Smoker released him. That was the last time, he thought. No more. He didn't move, remaining on his knees, head drooping, waiting for what might come next.

Spender grabbed his hair and pulled his head toward his dick. "I said lick it, boy."

Applying himself to the task, Dustin complied, and for each minute of humiliation, he promised an hour of suffering for the old man.

When Dustin had licked his cock clean, Spender stepped back abruptly, nodding. "Good boy, for a start. Now. We've got to go get ready. I have some meetings today, and then there's our party. Do you want to attend any of the meetings?" He began to do up his pants.

"What are the meetings, sir? Would I have any place there?" Dustin was wondering. Today was the last day that he would be able to discover anything of use to either him or his missing love. He intended to use it wisely.

"Well, actually one of them is... remember the old doctor you asked about? I need to visit him. Then a man's coming to discuss the... health of another man, and his... Fox Mulder is becoming more of an annoyance than a help right now. You've never met him, have you?" Spender thought for a moment. "Could be useful..." he murmured. "And then there's his boss, Walter Skinner." He mulled this over for a few minutes.

"Do you remember all I told you about Oregon?"

"I remember." Dustin lowered his lashes, and slowly rose to his feet to stand submissively before the old man. "This has to do with the invasion?"

Spender nodded approvingly. Good boy. "Yes," he said. "It does. The time is almost upon us, as you know. They betrayed us again."

He motioned towards Dustin's clothes, silently giving him permission to get dressed.

A flood of relief washed over Dustin. Clothing meant that he was off the hook, for now. He knew that the respite was only temporary, but hopefully it would give him time. He began to dress himself, wondering what would be the best way to proceed.

"What do you think I should do, sir? What would you like me to do?"

"Well, I'd love for you to come to all the meetings, Dustin. I think you'll learn a lot. And... you can do an... official assignment, your first, too. That should make you happy." He smiled, hoping the boy would know what he meant. His bloodlust was strong now, and should be sated soon.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Karl Mackey's face had healed, save for an angry red scar on his left eyelid, where the new skin was still tender to the touch. He was back in the swing of things, and it was almost as though he had never been away. His love for Alex was always there, a part of him now, and one that never eased, but when not in his presence he could suppress it.

He'd taken over the production of "Hear No Evil" in Dustin's absence, and had begun to appreciate the amount of work that had gone into the pre-production. It had been a while since he'd had to come out from behind his desk, and he'd gotten a real appreciation of Dustin's ability.

He was at his desk, having worked late into the evening, when the phone on his desk rang.

"Mackey," he murmured, his eyes on the script he was reading.

Marita Covarrubias tightened her hold on the receiver of the pay phone she was holding to her ear. After playing dead, and her harrowing escape from El Habibi's palace (which nearly failed), and her even more harrowing eventual discovery of Alex, and then working out a deal with the guards at the jail and even pulling some strings at the UN with various Warsaw Pact and Amnesty treaties, she was finally at the end stretch. Alex's freedom was at hand. She knew Mackey would pay the 5 million dollar ransom. She knew it, but a part of her was still nervous as she heard Mackey answer the phone.

"Karl, it's Marita Covarrubias. A matter of extreme urgency has come up. It's - it's Alex, Karl. He's in jail in Tunisia. They want 5 million US dollars or they'll kill him at dawn tomorrow." Karl nearly choked.

"Whatever happened to 'hi, how are you doing?' Don't we do the pleasantries any more?" Mackey's voice was dry, but there was a sardonic humor to it as he responded to her. "Half a mil is a bit steep, isn't it? I could probably raise it, but to do so before tomorrow morning is probably pushing it. Did you attempt to haggle?"

"Steep? For Alex?" Marita's voice almost cracked. "Karl, I don't have time. I -- no, I didn't. They were going to shoot him today, Karl. I wasn't going to take any chances. They're giving him a chance as it is..." She looked up as a man approached the phone booth, and breathed again as he passed her. "I didn't think they'd do us any more... favors, and didn't want to lose the one we had."

She paused. "You... you still love him, don't you, Karl?"

There was a phrase Spender had given her once, but she'd sworn to herself never to use it...

"Still love... Of course I do. It's just the logistics of getting money to you. How will I get that kind of money to you in Tunisia? I've got less than 24 hours. You're 9 hours ahead of me, and the banks are closed here until morning. God, Marita, is there nothing we can do?" Mackey checked his watch. Maybe the Swiss bank he used could be of assistance. "I need an address, and a name... I'll try my best."

: "Damn." Quickly, Marita rattled off the number and address of her hotel. "I'm sure you can think of something. Western Union, Internet... wait. Didn't you say Jarred got busted once for hacking, but you got him off somehow?"

"Just hold on, Marita. Don't let them shoot him. Please do what it takes." Mackey was already calling Jarred, his thumb working the speed dial of his cellular phone as he spoke to Marita. "Have you seen him? How is he? What happened to him?"

"I... haven't seen him. I'm going there now. He... you remember El Habibi? He killed him... there was a boy. He tried to save him, but... he was killed. I was there when it happened. We were trying to get files out while Alex... anyway, they caught us, killed Günter and tried to kill me. I faked that I was dead. Alex got out, I got out, but... they got Alex at the airport. I've... stayed out of official channels since. You should see my fleabag motel. Anyway, I can't wait to see him. I've got some of his favorite foods with me... if they'll let me give it to him. Which I kind of doubt... but, I feel so bad. Günter couldn't have been more than sixteen... you know how he gets." Not that she didn't understand. She did, all too well.

Mackey had Jarred on the line now, and he bunched the phone into his shoulder so that he could talk to her at the same time.

"Jarred? Mackey. I need you in the office. Can you get here fast for me?" He hung up and began to dial Switzerland. "You still there, Marita? I'm trying. What room number are you in?"

Jarred yawned, stretching on his bed like a cat. He'd been dead asleep, but in typical Jarred fashion, had shrugged sleep off like he would his jacket. "Sure, boss. Be right there." "I'm still here," Marita said. "Niner Ten Eighty," she said. "This is a secure line we're on, right?"

Grabbing his light windbreaker, Jarred loped out of his house and into his car, driving to the studio. He was used to doing things at odd hours for friends, but for Mackey... that was new and different. He was intrigued.

"I'll call you back, Marita. Let me get some cash underway now. I'll be back to you within the hour, okay?" As the receptionist at the bank in Switzerland picked up the phone, he hung up on Marita and began to discuss the transferal of half a million US dollars to a fleabag hotel in Tunis.

When Jarred burst through the door, he was deep in negotiations to have a courier take his money to Tunisia.

Jarred loped into the room and flopped haphazardly into one of the chairs opposite Mackey's desk.

"What can I do you for, Uncle Karl?" he asked, carefully picking some lint off his black jeans.

"Thanks for coming in, Jarred." Karl swallowed. How much of this should he tell Jarred? He wasn't sure. "Umm... Hypothetically, how would it be possible to transfer a large amount of money to a place like Tunisia? Would it be possible to 'find' the money from somewhere else? Say somebody's account - someone who didn't know?"

Jarred smirked. "It'd be frighteningly easy." He stood up, about to prance over and show Karl how.

Karl. This was Karl, the man who'd reformed him... supposedly. What if he were only saying that to trap him? It was a possibility. Though Karl had, of late, given up some of his parole-officer-ish behavior, Jarred knew he still had a tight eye on him. I already got one parole officer, he'd often thought. What do I need two for?

He threw himself back into the chair, lowering his eyes and mumbling, "I mean, I used to know how. I could have maybe told you, a few years ago. I'm sure the security is way tighter now. Steep learning curve, and all."

Of course, the curve had really been no problem, and had never even existed...

"It's okay, Jarred. Trust me. I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't in the biggest fix in the world. I have to transfer half a million bucks from somewhere to Tunisia, and I think that the man whose fault this all is should pay. My friend's life is at stake if I can't get money there by tomorrow morning, their time." Mackey began to tell Jarred the situation. "Spender should be the one to pay. He has the money."

"Spender." Jarred repeated the name. He'd heard it before... but very little else about the man, except that he was evil, apparently, and ruled the world, or thought he did. Jarred had once tried to locate him in the equivalent of the Illuminati blue book, but with no luck.

"Well, the name's apt," he said with a small grin. "Just give me the info, like his social security number, or, anything you can get me." He laughed. "This guy will be a spender, whether he knows it or not."

A hint of glee that he couldn't hide spread into his eyes, the glee that was there whenever he hacked or cracked anything.

"What do you need, Jarred? Anything. Save Alex, and you can have whatever you want." Mackey sat down and prepared to chew his nails.

"Just a safe computer and a name," he said. He looked at Karl. "Chill, man. I got my bag of tricks." He pulled out a CD-ROM from his pocket and approached Karl's desk, vaguely aware that his possession of the disc might incriminate him. Might! If Karl knew what was on it...

"I need your computer, Karl."

Mackey jumped to his feet, gesturing for Jarred to take his chair. "Pizza? Isn't that what hackers like? Want me to buy some in?" He backed off and began to pace, nervously. "Dammit. I wish that there was some way I could do something."

Jarred slid smoothly into Mackey's chair, inserting his CD into the computer as he did so. In moments, he was absorbed. "I can quit out of this, right?" He quickly saved the script Mackey had been working on and launched a program off his disc, one to mask the source computer's identity by routing the call through several hubs, many offshore. Next, he sent a "mouse" after it, to alert him when anyone pinged the line. That way, he'd be one step ahead, if anyone did trace him. Not that he expected that they could... "Pizza?" he said. "Yeah, that'd be great..."

His hands flew over the keyboard.

Pizza came, and was devoured. After watching Jarred work for an hour or so, Mackey was beginning to fear that it wouldn't ever happen. In his mind, he saw Alex lying dead, shot by men who didn't know him, and tossed into a lime pit without anyone to remember him.

"God, hurry, Jarred. Please..."

Jarred held up a finger. "Cool it. I got him. Look. And no pings, yet. Now, what do you want me to do? Where do I send this?"

"We need to get it to the Hotel Alexandria in Tunis. Think you can do that for me?" Alex needs exit papers too. How the hell...? Mackey threw the files he'd been reading down onto the floor and sank his head into his hands. "God, I'm tired. There's a bonus in this for you, Jarred. Just as soon as Alex reaches the US..." He grabbed for his cell and dialed Marita, waiting impatiently for the line to clear.

"Yes." Marita's tone was hesitant.

Jarred nodded, never taking his eyes off the screen. "That's just a side dish, Karl. Anything else?"

"It's Mackey. The money is there. Call me back." He ended the call once again, hoping against hope that the line was not being monitored. "Can you get papers issued for Alex Sanderson? He's an American citizen." Karl passed a folder over to Jarred. "All you need is in there."

Jarred nodded. Grinning, he took the file. After tapping for several minutes on the keyboard, he turned to Karl, taking a gulp of his Coca-Cola. "Where do you need these sent? Tunis?"

"Yeah. I need them to get to him so that he can leave the damned country in the next day or so. " Mackey moved over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a healthy tot of scotch. "Have I told you lately that I love you, kid? You just saved someone's life, or at least you did all that was possible to save it. It's all up to Marita now."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Alex crouched in the corner of the cell, eyes flashing. The other men in the cell eyed him with menace.

They were hungry, because after Alex had killed his would-be rapist, the guard had not given them food or water, promising food when Alex was dead. Some of the men looked as though they would like to hasten that eventuality.

He had killed again, last night, after another man had tried to rape him, and he'd been fighting off assaults both physical and sexual since. He was a psychological ruin, and only Sascha was keeping him alive and sane, now. He growled as a relatively small man reached for him, and he somehow found the strength to tackle him to the ground after springing at him, eyes blazing.

The man that Alex had taken down lay on the floor, unmoving, and there was an ugly growl from the other occupants of the cell as they moved in close. Alex looked up as the largest of them grimaced at him.

"We are tired of your existence. You are a trouble to us." At a sign from the leader, all 9 of the others within the cell descended on Alex, punching and kicking.

Krycek quickly pulled out a shank he'd been hiding in his empty sleeve, since they'd taken his prosthetic arm away.

He'd crafted the shank over the course of the past few days, from the radial bone of one of the men he'd killed after they tried to rape him. During the night, he'd quietly used his teeth to cut through the man's wrist to the bone, and peeled and gnawed until he found a rough edge on the wall and used that to rip the skin off from the bone. He'd honed it in the same way.

Still, he'd looked half crazed, as he skinned the man's arm and sharpened the bone, and perhaps for that reason they'd not packed up on him before. Now their hunger drove them, and Krycek drove his shank into the nearest one of them, grinning fiercely.

The bubbling cry from the throat of the unfortunate that had received his shank in his throat made the others all shrink away once more. The huge man, Hussein, who had spoken to him first, spat on the floor.

"Now tell me, dog, what manner of man you are, to avoid your fate in this manner. Are you of the djinn? I am desolate in the knowledge of your survival, for as long as you live, the rest of us die. Can you not conjure yourself forth, oh spirit?" He glowered at Alex, who was staggering to his feet after ensuring that the man he had stabbed was no longer likely to attack him.

Krycek whipped his head around, smiling ferally at Hussein, white teeth flashing. "Djinn? I suppose I could be one. If you like." Cat-like, he sprang toward the man. "You don't want to know what I am, boy. If you want to live, you'd do well to leave it - and me - alone." He looked around. "That goes for the lot of you." His eyes shone and his sweat-laden skin glistened in the dim light as he looked at each man in turn.

One of them took a step towards him, and he had him in a throat hold in no time. Flinging the man down, he leapt backward, impaling the man's throat on the shank as he lunged again.

"Some people are sure slow to learn. I guess it's the desert heat."

The remaining prisoners huddled together beside the bars, the corpses of two of their number spilling their blood on the dirty concrete of the floor. The small man who had attacked him at the start groaned and sat up, unaware of the mayhem that had subsequently occurred. Alex leaned against the wall beneath the high, barred window, and wondered what the hell he was going to do. This couldn't continue. He had to sleep some time.

Looking at the small man, he tried to gauge his disposition. If he was going to leave him alone, he'd return the courtesy.

Moaning, and clutching his head, the little man looked around. Seeing Alex, he hissed like a cat and began to stagger to his feet. Hussein reached for him, drawing him away from the strange spirit that had come to plague them.

"Let him be, Ali. It is not wise to draw his attention on you. He is fortunate. Allah smiles upon him."

Alex smiled fiercely at Hussein. Damn straight...

Leaning his head back, satisfied that he would not be bothered, he closed his eyes lightly, holding his shank in his right hand.

The group of prisoners huddled together and stared at Alex, each man hoping that hewould falter. They didn't immediately notice a rising hubbub from along the corridor, until the cries and curses of prisoners in other cells further down suddenly became far too great to ignore, and they turned, needing to know what new misfortune would befall them. A woman was walking up the corridor, in the company of the two day guards, seemingly unfazed by the jeers and the catcalls from the men who lurked in the shadowy cells.

At the increase in noise volume, Krycek opened his eyes. Turning his head, he saw a blonde woman, accompanied by two guards, walking down the row of cells. Was that... no, it couldn't be. It was...

Shakily, he began to get to his feet.

The woman came to rest just outside arm's reach of the prisoners in his cell. Slowly, he shouldered the men aside as they milled about in front of the bars that penned them in. At last, he could see that it was. It really was Marita.

"Your release has been arranged," she said.

Krycek stared hard at her. She'd never looked lovelier. He had been sure she was dead. But thank God she wasn't. Still, he had to make it look good. He didn't know what the circumstances of her being here were. He lowered his voice to a growl. "Marita Covarrubias. Last time I saw you, I left you for dead."

She regarded him levelly, an expression of complete disdain on her cold features. "Alex, if it was strictly up to me, I'd leave you here to rot, too." She stepped back to permit the guards to open the cell door, and then as he stepped through, she ostentatiously held a handkerchief to her nose. He stank.

Krycek stepped out, feeling a burden lift from him as he turned to look at his cellmates one last time before he left. Perhaps he was a djinn, after all, the way they looked back at him.

Alex gratefully followed Marita and the guard wordlessly as he was led to a shower. Fresh clothes were laid out for him as he was beckoned over to it.

He couldn't ever remember a more welcome shower in his life. He splashed water on his face and body, cleansing away the stink and the filth.

Looking at Marita as he drank some of the tepid and rusty tasting water, which was water nonetheless, he at last dared to ask, hoping to find out why she was here and what his status was, "Who sent you?"

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Dustin hurried back to his room, desperate to shower off the residue of the morning. His skin crawled with the thought of what might have happened, and his genitals stung from the burns that they'd received. He was still shaking.

Pushing open the door to his suite, he saw a package lying on the bed, and as he crossed the room, he could see that it bore his name. He didn't open it immediately. He shucked his clothing and went into the shower, scrubbing his skin until it burned. Finally, as he returned to his room, he picked it up and studied it idly. Tearing it open, he found several unlabeled CDs and a note from Alex.

"Dustin, little cub: Take care of these for me, baby. They are the reason I was sent here, and I need them to reach Mr. Spender. I know that I can trust you. I love you, Alex.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, clad only in a towel, Dustin wondered just what he should do with the disks.

Spender went up to his study, smiling grimly. He'd gotten part of what he wanted, and all of what he needed. The boy would surely be more respectful and careful in his manner towards him now.

Picking up his phone, he arranged for the two of them to be driven to the glorified nursing home where Wilheim Wertzgaard was living out the end of his days, which he suspected wouldn't be much longer. Senility could be a blessing, or a curse. Lately it had become the latter, as Wil had apparently been discussing his favorite patient, Alexei, with any who cared to listen.

He smiled as he lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. He would enjoy this, and he knew Dustin would, too.

He hit the intercom button to Dustin's suite. "Dustin? I'll need you to meet me here in my office as soon as you can. I have a treat in store for you. Make sure you bring your knife." Releasing the button, he took another long drag, smiling on the exhale. There was no greater feeling; his veins fairly thrummed the way he knew Dustin's would, soon enough.

Dusty shivered. Now what? He folded the little note carefully and retrieved his knife from its resting place beneath the pillow, then he went to his closet and found himself some clothes. By the time he had dressed himself, he had decided that he had to turn the disks over to the Smoker. Ten to one he knew about them already, and if Alex's life depended on it, he didn't want them going astray.

As he entered the Smoker's study, he was carrying the package with him.

"Ah, Dustin! My favorite son," Spender said jovially. "Come here, my boy. I've got good news for you. Oh, you've brought something with you. What is it?"

He looked at Dustin expectantly.

"It's something that was left on my bed, sir. I think that you ought to have it. It's..." He looked away, hoping that he wasn't provoking another attack by this. "It's from Alex."

Holding out the package to the old man, he waited for the reaction, wondering if he would be okay this time, or if Alex's name would make the old man crazy.

Spender put his arms around Dustin. This was it. He was giving up what Alex sent him. This proved he had Dustin's loyalty - or some part of it. He smiled, rubbing Dustin's neck. "Thank you, my boy. For your trust." Taking the package, he placed it on his desk and noted that they were CD-ROMS. No doubt El Habibi's research.

He moved closer to Dustin, running his hands softly over Dustin's face, kissing his forehead, lips, and cheeks. "I'm sorry about ... earlier," he said. "I was afraid you might betray me, and I panicked. Remember what you said, that you could love me? That I could earn your love? Please, tell me how. I've hurt you, and I'm sorry. I overreacted. Tell me what you need. I want nothing more than I want your love. You saw through me, and I panicked at that, too." He began to nibble Dustin's ear.

Dustin didn't know quite what to do. His skin crawled at the contact, and he had to concentrate on standing still while the old man touched him. He took a deep breath and turned to face the old man. "I - there's nothing specific. I just want Alex to be safe."

"Alex will be safe," Spender said. "I would never let him fall into any real harm. I know you won't understand this, but I need him. He's good at his job, a job that grows increasingly important."

"Will he be returning to DC soon, sir?" Dustin knew that he was pushing his luck, but he had to ask. If only the man would just for once let him know the truth, he thought that he would be able to bear this. Turning away, he moved to pour himself a glass of water as he waited for caresses, or blows.

Spender stepped back. "I'm not sure when he'll be back. As soon as he's free. I've just received word that Marita is alive, and working to free your love with the heads of different countries and the Tunisian government. I believe he will be home soon. I need him to be; something's come up." "Is it something I can help with, sir?" Dusty was glad to be talking about something that would take the attention away from the sexual dominance games that the old man had been playing. He sat on the edge of a chair and looked at him expectantly. "I'd love to assist."

"I need you to come to me today. Everything that can be done for Alex, is. There's not much more to be done than what has been already. Now, speak no more of him, and let's get on with this. I will only save him, once he returns, if you love me, you know. If you really love me."

He's going nuts, Dustin thought. How can he possibly think that I love him? He raised his eyes to Spender's face, trying to look as affectionate as possible, while he debated the wisdom of cutting and running.

"Oh, yes. You said that you had work for me. What are we going to do, sir?"

At the mention of the job at hand, Spender smiled. "Remember the doctor you wanted to kill? The one who turned Alyosha into Alexei? He's become something of a... liability. You asked to see him before, with a certain intent. The time has come. You know what to do."

Spender squeezed Dustin's shoulder. "I know it will make you feel better."

Nodding silently, Dustin sipped his water and allowed himself to relax a little. Maybe he'd make it through the day after all. He put his glass down and stood up.

"Okay, sir, I'm ready. Have knife, will slice..."

Spender smiled. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes off his desk, along with his keys. "Come, then."

When the driver let them out at the apartment complex, Spender walked into the building with Dustin. "His apartment is number 306. I'll wait here for you." He indicated a reception area. "Go on up; he should recognize you. If not, he will once you start talking to him..." He squeezed Dustin's shoulder. "You can do it."

As Dustin knocked on the door, his stomach was squirming with the horrors that he had undergone, and that he had imagined that day. As the door opened and the old man led him indoors, he reflected that this was the one who, above all the others, owed Alex a life. Listening to the confused ramblings, he thought that it was a sad pity that he wouldn't know that his debt was about to be paid.

Wertzgaard pulled Dustin into the room, seating him in the plushest chair. He slowly hobbled over to the pantry to get a drink. "Alyosha, he was such a happy boy. Always eager to please and so quick, so sharp! Sometimes you knew he didn't want to do as we asked, but he did it... to please, to earn his reward. You remind me of him, a little bit. You have eyes like his. Such intense eyes! Oh, I loved gazing into those eyes. Alexei, now, there was a boy... ah, here we are." He had hobbled back over to Dustin with a glass of brandy. He sat down in the wingchair opposite him. "He wanted to please too... he could charm a stone, and then kill you, without a second thought, smiling the whole time he did it. You'd tell him anything, to get him to favor you. Oh, I miss him... he told me he loved me sometimes, and I'd hold him..."

"Yeah?" Dustin's eyes were bright, his smile as feral as a snarl. "After everything you did to him? How could you use a little boy like that? You ought to be ashamed." He sat on the couch and stared at the old man, willing him to realize that his past had found him. "Such a quick, clever boy," Wertzgaard said. "Called me Pappy... he asked me to save him. But he's going to save the world, you know... keep world peace and harmony. He never seemed to know how special he was, though." He looked at Dustin. "Isn't that strange? He never knew. He only... shivered. And his dreams... I tried to program him to be quiet and still, and forget... I succeeded, after awhile. I made four compartments and put parts of him in each. He was happier then. Slept through the night. Spender was happier, too. Said he was - slicker."

"Of course that's the important thing, isn't it? Keeping Spender happy!" Dustin wanted to scream, but he kept his voice low. "You tore him to pieces to keep Spender happy? How many more little boys did you damage beyond repair? How could you live with yourself?"

Dustin stood up and began to prowl back and forth as he spoke. His knife was in his hand now, but he was too agitated to use it.

Wilheim watched Dustin as he paced. "Spender was in charge of the whole thing. He knew what he wanted. He brought them in; I did as he asked. Alyosha was my favorite though..." He trailed off. "You have the same tone Alexei had when he was angry. And he would always pace, just like you're doing now... he sometimes would get so angry... we made him stop that, though. With guilt and anxiety... he had to keep the balance, you know. Do you know how that works? It needs to be done with care. Other kids... yes. But they were my canvas. Alyosha was the paint... Alexei, the masterpiece. He wanted a Sascha, too... a killer. That was easy. Take all his anger out at once. Then Alex, the ... my sweet Alex. I haven't seen him in so long. Do you know where he is now? He's doing well, I hope?"

Dustin suddenly seized the old man by the shoulder and brandished his knife at him. "Don't you ever regret what you did? Don't you ever cry for my Alex?"

"Y - your Alex? What do you mean, your Alex? You had nothing to do with him. You're far too young. We made him. I did the best job I could, and he turned out perfectly. Why would I cry for him? The day he turned ten, I threw him a party. He had finally learned to shoot with extreme accuracy, and he knew where to..."

Wilheim stared at the knife in Dustin's hand. "That was the day I gave him that knife. What... are you..."

He looked up into Dustin's eyes, shakily. "Alexei?" he said slowly. "Alexei, is it you? Dear one, you know I would never hurt you. We did our best for you. Didn't you like your party, and all your presents? Your Daddy is very proud."

The old man smiled, as he had on Alyosha's tenth birthday, the day he became Alexei. In his mind, it was that day, so long ago.

"Why are you crying, Alexei? This is a happy day. You have a new name now. You're getting to be a big boy now. Come, let's go have some cake." He began to stand up, and shuffle towards the kitchen.

Dustin couldn't stand it any more. This crazy old man had tormented his lover until he'd fragmented his personality, but now he was as fragmented and pathetic as his poor subject. Dustin stepped up behind the old man and hit him on the head with the hilt of his knife. Somehow, the blade was too good for the wreckage of the doctor. Dustin grabbed a cushion from the couch and laid it over the stunned man's face, leant on it and waited. After a very long time, the old man's pulse had stopped; he stood up, dusted himself off, and left. Spender watched as Dustin approached a few minutes later. Strangely, he didn't look as happy as he had thought he would be... he looked deep in thought. There wasn't the same gleam in his eye as there had been with LaPierre. Spender walked over to him. "Did he give you a problem, my boy?" he asked in a kindly voice. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Hurt me? N-no..." Dustin was lost in thought. "No problem, sir. He was no trouble. It's just that he was so... so confused. He didn't appreciate that he'd done anything wrong. He didn't have a clue who I was, or why I hate him. It was all for nothing." Dustin climbed back into the car and surveyed Spender. "You think that I'm pathetic, don't you?"

"Pathetic? No. Well," Spender smiled as he climbed into the car and the driver started them back home, "maybe a little. You're a boy with a crush. It's really rather... sweet." Spender fixed Dustin with his gaze. "But are you beginning to see now why your love is wasted on Alex? He can never love you back, or give you what you want. He'll only use you, and then turn on you. That's what he does. I mean, let's face it. A boy with his looks, and he hasn't settled down yet... he's not a man. He's a program. The sooner you realize that, the happier you'll be."

Spender looked out the window. "Wertzgaard was tasked with dehumanizing Alyosha, and I think... I know he did a good job."

Grinding his teeth, Dustin told himself to wait. He couldn't do anything yet. He had to get the information the meeting that afternoon would provide.

"Good enough, I guess. He's dead now, sir. Do we go to the meeting now, or back to the house?"

"Well, we need to go to the house to pick up some things, and then actually they'll be coming to us. After this there is another meeting in Washington. You'll have some time to rest between them, I think. Then the party. You've been to a few of those before." ~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Dustin had bathed and changed yet again. He'd been told to dress in Alex's clothing, and when he'd gotten back to his room, Alex's clothes had been lying on the bed, awaiting him. When he'd buried his nose in them, he could smell the faint and indefinable scent that was his lover.

The summons to the library had come shortly after he'd changed, and he surveyed himself in the mirror before going down the stairs to join his nemesis. Try as he might, he couldn't achieve Alex's feral smile. He wondered if that mattered.

Turning, he descended the staircase, hoping that he was going to be up to whatever the Smoker had in mind.

"Dustin! There you are. Looking every inch like Alex. Good, good. The man we are going to see will know you as Alex Krycek, and he -- doesn't like Alex much. He's Fox Mulder's boss, and he's requested a meeting. I'm not terribly sure what for - he didn't specify. But... he's been under our control for a while now. Wonder what he could want?"

He led the way outside, to his sedan, and climbed in. "Don't you?"

He started the engine.

Dustin attempted a smile, and failed.

"Of course I'm interested." He joined the smoker, taking the passenger's seat as the Smoker pulled the car away. "Is this person important?" he asked.

Fox Mulder. Dustin had heard that name. He was the FBI agent who had beaten Alex again and again. Alex had loved him, and Dustin was sure that he would have problems meeting him face to face, particularly if he had to be civil.

"He's important to keeping Fox Mulder where we want him," Spender replied. "As Mulder's boss..."

He looked at Dustin. "You know, I believe there's going to be an FBI audit of the X-Files. Should be interesting."

He lit a cigarette, not bothering to roll down his window. "What do you know about Fox Mulder?"

Dustin thought fast. Fox Mulder... Fox Mulder...?

He had it.

"He's the son of a ranking Consortium official. Alex was sent in to neutralize his attempts to expose the project, but met with mixed success, and is still in place within the FBI. I think that he and Alex had a love affair. Alex certainly seemed to be really taken with him, though I don't know if he returned the affection." Dustin drew breath. He had marked Fox Mulder down for his attentions. To disguise his emotions, he turned to wind down the window of the car and void the smoke that was coming from the old man's cigarette.

Spender smiled. "Ah! You've read the files I gave you about Alex. I didn't know if you would, after the look you gave me when I handed them to you." He smiled, thinly.

"Yes, Alex and Fox were lovers. Fox never loved him as well as Alex loved Fox, but then... could anyone love Alex? Present company excluded, of course. I love Alex, but... no one else can understand him. How could they?"

Spender took another drag, and continued. "Fox's mother was the only woman I ever came close to loving. Her son could save the world, but before I could tell her that..." He broke off for several moments.

He looked at Dustin after awhile. "Do you remember how Alex lost his arm?"

Spender smiled. "No, Fox didn't cut off his arm. Alex... Alex always tried to help Fox. I fear he had a puppyish crush, rather as you do, now. He was... younger then. More... anyway. Mulder felt that his betrayal was such that he could never forgive him, or trust him. Despite the help that my Alex gave him... Fox refused to see it. He basically made Alex take him to Russia, and Alex would have given him what he wanted... had he been patient."

He looked at Dustin. "Alex paid for that impatience with his arm. Fox was rewarded with eternal life... of a sort." He looked to Dustin again. "What will you cost Alex, and what will you gain?"

"Cost him?" Again Dustin frowned. The question made him nervous. "I don't want to cost him anything. I want to give him things. Too many people have taken too much from him. It's time someone gave to him. I'll gain happiness. I don't know what else. I don't need anything else. I have all that I need." He fell silent again, knowing that if the old man was in the wrong kind of mood his answer would enrage him, but not knowing what else to say.

"You want to give to him." Sender took a deep drag on his cigarette, carefully stubbed it out in the dashboard ashtray, and lit another.

Once he had decided that Dustin had been held on tenterhooks long enough, he smiled, the kind of smile that Dustin knew wasn't a smile at all, or even a smirk. More like a stifled sneer.

"Alex is devoted to you, you would say. He once told me he wanted to protect you, to help you. What do you know of the fate of those who he seeks to help, to protect? And why did he choose to protect you? I never understood that." Spender's eyes drifted back to the road as he continued. "You don't seem to be what he usually looks for, to protect, although the likeness you share..."

"I don't know why? All I can say is that I care for him. I don't know the reasons for any of it." Dustin grinned. "Maybe someone should do a study on us, write a paper. Wouldn't that be a kick?"

He lapsed into his thoughts again. This Fox Mulder was a person he suddenly really wanted to meet. He'd show the bastard that Alex was not to be hurt.

Spender suddenly turned and backhanded Dustin's face, hard. He returned his gaze to the road with barely a pause.

"There's always a reason."

Raising a hand to his bleeding lip, Dustin contemplated stabbing the man where he sat. No. That wouldn't do. He didn't have all the information he needed quite yet. Soon maybe but not now.

He glowered, and looked out of the window, biding his time.

Spender turned onto the Beltway and looked at Dustin out of the corner of his eye.

The boy's becoming more submissive, he thought. No. He could feel his anger, and knew he must be fighting a violent urge. But he didn't lash out. Why didn't he?

"I will have your reason from you," he said.

"When you get it, how about sharing it?" muttered Dustin, watching the buildings flash past them as they headed into town. As they crossed the river he whirled at last to face the Smoker. "Love just is. There are no hidden secrets. It just happens. Have you never loved?"

The smoker looked straight ahead. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I have." Spender swallowed as he continued to drive towards the Hoover building.

"What happened?" Dustin's voice was gentle as he watched the old man's profile. "You must have been hurt."

"I... she was beautiful," Spender replied. "A beautiful person in every sense of the word. Caring and loving... kind, oh so kind. If anything or anyone ever tried to hurt her..."

He swallowed again. "She called me a bastard and left me when she... had to stick to her beliefs and go her own way."

He sighed. "She never was much for pragmatism."

"And you are the ultimate pragmatist. That I've realized. Does it still hurt you?" Dustin's forehead had creased in puzzlement. The old man was human after all. He didn't know that he liked that particular revelation. He'd preferred it when he could demonize the bastard. Now it was going to take far more effort to do what he'd planned.

"It hurts. Every time I would see her it hurt. Her eyes... hate and fury where there once was such love." He looked at Dustin for a moment, then back at the road. "She killed herself, earlier this year."

There was a long pause. The buildings they flew by now were offices, great slabs of concrete and glass. Dustin didn't speak and the Smoker continued to propel the sleek black vehicle. As they neared the downtown core, Dustin finally gave in and asked his question.

"Why? What did you do to her?"

Spender looked at Dustin. "To her? Nothing. I'd have given her the world. In fact, I was trying to..."

Spender paused for a moment, considering how much to tell Dustin.

"She was Fox Mulder's mother."

"His mother?" Dustin's husky voice was baffled. "You had an affair? She chose her husband in the end? Man, that's harsh. Women are always enigmas. I've never understood how they think. Why didn't she choose you?" They were close to their destination now, and Dustin felt that he was learning more about his saturnine captor than ever before.

"No, she left Bill, too," Spender said curtly. "At least I was honest about what needed to be done, and that I felt it was right. Bill was a ditherer and a hypocrite."

Spender drove into the parking garage under the FBI building, feeling the gloom within cloak them. Somehow, it felt appropriate.

As he pulled into a vacant space, he looked over at Dustin. "Sometimes, love is... a curse, not a gift." He opened his door and stepped out.

No shit, thought Dustin. I wonder what made her leave them. He must have done something terrible, and that doesn't surprise me in the least.

He followed the old man as he made his way into the building and through the maze of offices to the boear room where the meeting was to be held.

Spender looked at Dustin as they walked. "You know, sometimes you lose all you love by sticking to your convictions. But in this case, I believed I was doing the right thing. I had to."

He walked into the room and looked around. Skinner was sitting behind his desk.

"Hello, Mr. Skinner," Spender said, taking the liberty of sitting across from him in a facing chair and lighting a cigarette after glancing at the "No Smoking: plate on the desk.

:It's been quite some time. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

He motioned for Dustin to sit beside him.

The look that the man behind the desk gave Dustin was the kind that would curl paint. Dusty permitted himself to smile at the sour-faced man and wondered exactly what Alex had done to earn this kind of reaction. Taking a seat, and lounging back, he prepared to take in whatever information he could glean from the meeting.

"I'm glad that you've brought your trained Rottweiler with you. It will save me a lot of trouble repeating myself. I want you to call him off. It's making my job impossible, and I will be no use to either Mulder or to you if I am compromised." The bald man sneered at Dustin as he spoke.

"Call him off," Spender said. He knew he had to act like he knew what was going on to learn anything here.

"What will that gain us? Or you?"

The bald man flared, anger glowed in his eyes, red coals that flickered in obsidian pupils. His mouth set grimly. "He can kill me next time. He's done it once. You might as well tell him to do it right now and put me out of my misery." The bulge in this Skinner's jaw was testament to his teeth grinding in fury.

Spender looked at Skinner dispassionately. "Killed you?" He took a drag. "You seem very much alive to me."

The sound of the ham-like fist striking the table made Dustin sit up a little straighter.

"You know damned fine what I'm talking about. Ever since you had him infect my blood with the nanotechnology, he's been playing games with my life. I died in the hospital. I died for several minutes before he brought me back. He's a fucking sadist, and so are you." Skinner shoved his chair back and moved to stand by the window with his back to Dustin, but every line radiated indignation.

"A sadist?" Spender's lips twisted. "You wound me, Mr. Skinner. Don't you know that everything I do, I do for a reason?" He gave him an indulgent look. "I know you think we mean you and your agents harm. Nothing could be further from the truth."

He looked at Dustin briefly.

"Alex, here. Has he not been pivotal to several investigations?"

"That's as maybe. I'm asking you to make him back off before my superiors discover what I've been doing. It won't avail you anything if I am dismissed from the FBI, and it will be positively injurious to you if I give evidence against you at my trial, wouldn't you say?" Skinner walked around the table and stooped to growl into the Smoker's face. "Call him off, for all our sakes."

Spender looked at Dustin, smirking. "Ah, making threats. You're usually so even-temperd, M. Skinner. You only threaten when you're backed into a corner. Well, now. I propose a deal. You like deals, don't you, Mr. Skinner?"

"Tell me your deal, Mr. Spender." Skinner looked grimmer than ever. "Get this... vermin out of my life, and we can discuss a way forward. He's applying too much pressure - the things that he wants from me are getting me noticed. They have already got me noticed. I have the Director on my tail all the time now. It has to stop."

Spender looked at Dustin.. "Have you been going too far?" He smiled menacingly at him.

Turning back to Skinner, Spender said, :If he has, he's not following orders. What is it he wants?"

"He takes all the evidence Mulder unearths. He has me destroy things that are documented, and sooner or later they will prove that it's me. He had me destroy a body for him once." Skinner's voice was thick with outrage. "He's started to demand the X-Files, a piece at a time. I'll be discovered; I know it."

Spender looked to Dustin. "Where is it?" he said. "Been freelancing, have you?" He rose in apparent fury and looked at Skinner.

"It will stop," he said.

All that Dustin could do was to glare at Spender, challenging. His chin went up, and at that moment, he felt himself in very truth Alex. Smiling a slow smile at Skinner, he stood, turned, and backed to stand by the door, from where he stood and observed the two men who were still locked in their discussion.

Spender turned as Dustin looked at him. In his fury, he'd become Alex. He walked over to Dustin, and looked at Skinner. "I need to talk to Alex for a moment. Excuse us." He walked out of the room.

Dustin fixed Skinner with a long, sly look before following his temporary boss out.

"What's going on?" he asked. "I don't understand."

Spender took Dustin's hand and led him into another room... a bathroom. When they were inside, he pressed Dustin against the wall. "I don't know, but maybe you better ... damn. What were you doing, Alexei?"

Sender ran his hands over Dustin's body. "He's afraid, Alex. You've got him scared. What the hell are you up to?" For Spender, Dustin was Alex now, and he drew back and slapped him.

"What did I tell you, boy?"

Dustin shoved the man back. "Dustin. My name is Dustin. Are you mad?" He shivered and crossed his arms as he held himself. "I'm a fucking movie producer, in case you've forgotten. Alex is in Tunisia. Come on. Give me a break."

"Well then, movie producer," Spender said, "produce a way to find out what's going on here. I need you to get to him, to find out where those files are, and what Alex did with the nanotechnology. Its incredibly important."

"Okay, massa boss! I'll do whatever you want. I don't have a clue how, but you know that I'll die trying. Hopefully you're gonna explain what you can to me first though?" Dustin was angry now. More than angry, he was completely baffled. He felt that he'd fallen down some nightmarish rabbit hole. "What the hell is nanotechnology anyway?" he asked, desperately.

Spender had grown hard at Dustin's outburst, tingling as he imagined taking him against the wall, making him call him 'Daddy.' He could do that...

He slowly moved closer to Dustin, smirking, deliberately keeping him off balance. He reached out and caressed Dustin's cheek. "My boy. I gave you that book to read. Have we not been doing our homework?" He moved in until he was in Dustin's body space, shoving him against the wall. He pressed his hard cock against him. "What kind of movie producer are you, if you don't know what nanotechnology is?"

Dustin, smelling of leather, like Alex. Dustin, between him and a wall, as Alex had been, many times. "Alexei..." Spender whispered, almost inaudibly as he pressed himself harder against Dustin.

"Dustin. Not Alexei, Dustin." Dustin felt the old man grind against him in dismay. How come the old fart never seemed to tire? He sighed.

"I'm not to blame if I don't know about this shit. You've never given me any books on nanotechnology. I know about getting stars to make movies. I know about scripts. I don't know about science fiction and the FBI."

"I miss you, Alexei..." Spender whispered. He might not have heard Dustin. He stroked his back softly. "Come on, sweet Alexei. Be good for your Daddy, who loves you very much. Tell me what games you've been playing, hmm?"

His lust was strong, and he moved to fondle Dustin's cock through his jeans. "You know what would make Daddy happy?"

CSM unzipped his fly. "Darling boy... you break my heart. Why do you have to go behind your Daddy's back?"

"I don't understand. I'm Dustin. I'm Dustin." Dustin shoved at the old man, and screamed the words at him. "I'm not him. I'm me. Don't you understand?"

Blinking as he came to himself, Spender cradled Dustin in his arms. "Hush now, baby. I know you're Dustin. I'm sorry. You just... for a moment..."

He kissed Dustin's cheek softly. "Come on, baby. Make me happy, and I'll tell you about the nanocytes."

Dustin found himself shaking as the old man held him. Without wishing it, tears started up in his eyes and he dashed his hand over his eyes to remove the evidence of weakness.

"I'm not Alex," he mumbled. He didn't know what to think, except that he had to get out of the situation. He had to. He couldn't do this any more. Unable to think, he dropped to his knees numbly intent on servicing the old satyr yet again.

"That's my good baby boy. Oh, yes. You know how to please your Daddy, don't you, Dustin? Here you go." He held his stiff cock out for Dustin to suck, wrapping a fist in his hair. "Your hair is a bit longer than his..."

Spender moaned as Dustin took his cock, and began to explain. "Nanocytes are tiny robots that are small enough to fit inside a man's body. They can perform various tasks, from healing wounds inside the body on the fly, to causing damage, to eating cholesterol or other undesirables in the body. Some hope to use them to cure cancer. Of course, they could also be used for evil... and it seems Alex was doing that to Skinner. What we need to find out is why, and what he was doing."

Sucking on the old man's dick, Dustin was trying to imagine why and how Alex would do such a thing. He said nothing, merely clinging grimly to the old man's thighs as he sucked.

Spender moaned softly, thrusting into Dustin's mouth as he held him close with his arm around his shoulders. "Good, boy, you know how to please Daddy. So good... Alex didn't tell you anything about that, did he?"

Shaking his head, Dustin mulled over what the old man was saying. "He never said anything to me about any of this. There was never time. He hardly even had time to talk about us." He sank down onto his heels, a picture of dejection. It was suddenly beginning to come home to him that he was never going to see his lover again.

Spender pulled Dustin back to his cock. "It must have been a strong love. Like when I met Teena, when Bill took me home to meet his family, during our time in the Army... she was a flower, beautiful and delicate, and I knew I wanted to hold her, protect her, make her happy, worship her..."

Dustin reapplied to himself to the dick at his lips. There didn't seem to be anything to say. He wished that it were Alex here with him now, rather than this vile old man. Tonight he would run. Tonight.

Spender held Dustin as he increased his thrusts. The boy looked so much like Alex... so much. He growled as he felt his balls tighten up. "Who's your Daddy, boy? Who?"

His ass clenched a few final times, and he grasped and held Dustin's head as he came, all but pouring his jism down the younger man's throat, thrusting deeper.

Dustin swallowed the mess, and then slowly resumed his feet. He felt miserable - totally without hope. He'd come to the conclusion that his lover and he would never again be together. All his hopes had crashed.

"What are we to do about this Mr. Skinner?"

"I suppose we just go back in there and... the nanobots are controlled remotely, with a Palm Pilot device. We don't have the one Alex Krycek would have been using, but... if we can find a way to find out what Mulder was working on... I can get you another one." Spender tucked his now flaccid cock into his pants, and rezipped. "That was wonderful, by the way. You're a quick learner."

"Glad I could please," mumbled Dustin, sourly. His mind was numb, and he wanted to run now, not stay in this bastard's company. He held onto his fright and misery, trying not to show it as he followed the old man back into Skinner's office.

"Krycek wishes to know what Mulder has been working on lately," Spender said to Skinner as he resumed his seat, taking out his cigarettes and lighting one.

The look that Skinner gave to Dustin would have caused him to combust spontaneously if the AD had had any ESP whatsoever. As it was, it made Dustin shiver. So many people who hated his love. What chance did he have? How would he ever be able to help Alex, even if they did find each other once again? He stared at Skinner, his hands in his pockets. As the other man glowered, he smiled. If he felt bad, he'd pass it on. That might make him feel better.

Spender leaned back in his chair. Taking a drag, he looked at Skinner. "Mr. Skinner. Your look is enough to scorch a man's face. I have talked to my Rottweiler, as you put it, and I think you should be talking to him, not me."

He smiled encouragingly at Dustin.

Dustin shivered again, and his chin went up. "Mulder is dangerous. You know that. What's he got that I don't know about?"

"He hasn't done anything more since you took the pieces from the alien artifact away from him. I don't know anything that will help you."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" There was honey in Dustin's voice, and a thick menace behind it that made both Skinner and the Smoker look at him.

"I'll get his files." Skinner was suddenly conciliating.

Spender smiled. "Would you? I'm sure we'll be most accommodating."

He smiled at Dustin, thinly. Impressive boy, in more ways than one.

Skinner buzzed for his secretary, and a few short minutes later Kim appeared with a bunch of manila folders.

"These are Agent Mulder's recent cases, sir," she said.

Placing them on the desk, she left.

Spender took the files, and thumbed through them. He passed them to Dustin. "This look like what you need?"

Dustin's heart leapt as he opened the file. Hypnotic debriefing of an agent Scully following a weird close encounter, and there was a name. Dr. Heitz Werber. An expert in the field. Dustin committed that name to memory. After a few moments, he closed the folder. He'd find this Dr. Werber and get him to help Alex, if ever Alex returned to him.

Spender turned to Skinner. "That is an old file; interesting to be sure. But old. We want recent files."

He thought for a moment. Unless it was pertinent to...

He looked at Skinner. "What has he been doing, lately? Where is he now?"

"He's in Oregon." Skinner's voice betrayed his extreme dislike of the visitors that he was forced to entertain. "I don't know what he's doing there. He's supposedly being audited.

Spender smirked, and chuckled a bit. "So I've heard. What triggered that?"

"It's procedure. Agent Mulder isn't exempt from it, any more than I am. Well, Mr. Spender, do you think you can assist me with my... problem?" Skinner glared at Dustin once again.

"I can, if the information you gave me is good. I think Alex has to make sure it's correct, and then he will help you." Spender took a drag, looking at Dustin.

"I think that's a given," murmured Dustin, rising to his feet.

Spender followed suit, and left the office.

Turning to Dustin, he said, "Skinner's not a bad man, really. He's a suit, though. You know the type."

Spender reached for the folder in Dustin's hand.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Striding up and down in an attempt to calm himself, Dustin was shaking. He wanted to scream at the man who was sitting so calmly on Alyosha's bed. He wanted to do something... anything to have the old man realize just what pain he had inflicted on one, poor lonely scrap of humanity. The sheer callous brutality of the treatment had completely fazed him.

He'd swung around ready to loose his fury on the Smoker and was suddenly distracted by the photograph album on the dresser. Picking it up, he began to turn the leaves.

"What is this? Who are they?"

Spender smiled his thin inscrutable smile, that was often all too telling. "Take a guess, Dustin. Who do you think that is?" He took out a cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag.

"It looks so like him like me. Is it his parents?" Dustin leafed through, searching for photographs of the lost little boy who had grown up to become Alex Krycek. "He was so sad. I don't understand how you could do that to him."

He sat down on the stool beside the dresser, and began to study the photos in detail, drinking in the old fashioned clothing and the tender expressions on the face of his lover's mother.

"Sir? What happened to his parents?"

Spender grabbed the photo album from Dustin with sudden speed and strength. "His parents were traitors, first to their country, then to ours. Then to the Consortium itself, ultimately. In return for our misguided protection, for both themselves and their son, they gave us Alex and left the country. I told them we would prevent harm to Alex by the Russians, and I did... until they betrayed again. They were slippery, as slippery as their son. I believe they are dead now. But you know that. Marita told me that she told you of how Alex came to live with me." He looked at Dustin.

"I know you think he's innocent. But his parents were not. And... we had a need of him, to become what he did, a killer and... you know. He served us well, and saved many lives. In the end, isn't the collective good of more importance than that of the individual?"

He leaned back, smoking.

"I'd like to read these. Is that possible?" Dustin indicated the journal. "I'd like to see how he felt as he grew. I want to understand." He attempted to show his nemesis a mild, non confrontational expression, although his disgust threatened to break free at every minute.

He strode around the room, looking in the drawers and finding small clothes, little possessions and pathetic treasures.

Spender smiled indulgently. "Sure, my boy. You can have what you want of his, if he means all that much to you. That's why I brought you here, you know. So you can see who he really is. What he is."

Spender squinted at him. "You still think he's capable of love. I tell you, he's not. He uses people. He doesn't love."

He looked towards one of the drawers. "In there are letters from various doctors. Every one was so impressed with him. By pitting him against older boys, he got very quick for his age. Very... sly. One step ahead, and sneaky. It's how he is now."

Keeping his face carefully neutral, Dustin collected Alex's journal, his photographs, and a small folder of drawings. As an afterthought he picked up the teddy bear and tucked it under his arm.

"Thanks for letting me see. It's given me lots to think about."

Spender nodded, reaching into his pocket. "Suppose what I did to him as wrong, though," he said softly. "What I did to her, to everyone. What if all I've believed in was false..." He shrugged. "Not that it ever could be false, of course. But sometimes..." He got up and walked over to the shelf by the window, picking up a model airplane. He turned it over in his fingers absently yet deliberately. "Alex made this when he was nine. Isn't it beautiful? He's as finely tuned as the Pratt and Whitney engines that power this jet. As finely tuned, and at least as delicate."

He turned to Dustin. "This whole operation is like that. You know. You've seen. Join us, Dustin. Forget Alex, and become my protégé. I'll leave it all to you, boy. You've impressed me."

He swallowed tightly. "I'm dying, Dustin. I have cancer."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." Dustin was not sure what he was hearing. Did the old beast expect him to somehow become as amoral and unfeeling as he was? "I won't ever be able to forget Alex though. It just isn't possible."

He stood and walked over to the door.

"I'm sorry. I can't."

Spender had anticipated that. He stood up, walking to stand behind and beside Dustin. "What if you didn't have to?" he asked softly. "What if I let you have Alex, when I'm gone?"

He smirked, a smirk Dustin couldn't see.

Either way, boy, I'll have won.

Turning slowly, Dustin stared at the old man, his arms around the relics of his lover's unhappy boyhood. "I don't think that I understand. How could that be?" His mind raced. It was a trick. It had to be. The old man would never allow him to win out. He just wasn't that kind of person. "I don't want to lie to you. I love Alex, and I can't switch that on and off to suit another, however much I'm offered."

Spender smiled broadly. "You wouldn't have to. After I'm gone, you would have Alex, to do with as you please. Beat him, kill him... or love him. It would be up to you. He'd be yours. Isn't that what you wanted? Just help me wrap up a few things first. I really need your help, Dustin," he said, coughing slightly.

He lit yet another cigarette and took a drag, despite his cough.

Still feeling very wary, Dustin stood, weighing up the pros and cons of even listening to the man. Reluctantly, he returned to sit on Alyosha's little bed.

"What can I do for you, sir?" He knew, even as he spoke that it was a bad idea.

"You know what to do, Dustin. Stay beside me, learn what you can. Work in the Consortium with me, for me."

He smiled, holding out his pack of Morley's. "Cigarette?"

"I I don't smoke. Never did." Dustin was so taken aback by the gesture that he didn't know what to do. "Work for the Consortium how, precisely?" His mind raced. "If Alex could come back to me now..."

His voice trailed away as he mused. Please let Alex come home to him...

Spender smiled, a smile that would chill the soul. "I'm sorry, Dustin. But Alex is needed elsewhere right now. But, as I say, he'll be yours after I... die."

He placed the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket. "How can you work for us? Well, I know you're an excellent assassin. And, shall we say, your... oral skills... are exemplary. I don't think I would wish you to do more than that though." He moved close behind Dustin, hissing in his ear as he caressed his ass and side. "I like you for my own far too much." He straightened up again. "But, you please me, you please some of the men tonight, maybe kill a few, tonight or down the line..." Spender shrugged. "You could be my star pupil."

There seemed to be nothing else to say. Alex would not be returned to him, and he would not be able to stomach the suggested prostitution that the Smoker was inferring would be his duty. His mind was set. He would not stay any longer than was necessary in order to get these belongings of Alex's away.

He hung his head. "I wish he could be here. I wish I could share this with him." Then he tilted his chin in the familiar, arrogant manner that Alex did. "Thank you for your offer, sir," he said, ambiguously.

Spender leaned in for a kiss. "You do look and act so like him. He'd be so proud of his Little Cub, you know. He told me once you and he could be partners. Of course I laughed at him, but now I can see it. He could use a partner, at times, and just think..."

He cupped Dustin's cheek in his hand. "You think that Alex loves you so much, don't you? Do you know how much he loves you? I know I can trust you with him."

He put his arm around Dustin, ushering him out of the room. "I've got to get dressed - so should you. Again, as Alex. Come to the library when you're ready, and we'll be off." He smiled.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The tux fitted to perfection, and Dustin looked every inch what he was, an urbane movie producer, ready to attend a high profile party. Inside his head, he was terrified, and his body would barely obey him. Tonight. It had to be tonight.

He'd packed as many of his things as he could, and Alex's belongings were safely packed with them.

As he approached the Smoker's study, he felt sick.

Spender looked up. "Dustin! Dustin my boy. Looking as good as ever. Honestly, you clean up so nicely. Come her, and let me look at you."

Spender's eyes roamed Dustin's body. He watched Dustin approach his desk with an avid gaze. "Beautiful."

Grinning, Dustin did a twirl for him. "I usually wear a summer tux, but this one fits really well. Thanks." He sat in one of the chairs and crossed his legs. "What time will the guests arrive?"

"Anytime." Just then there was a chime from the front door, and they could hear Greta answer it. Spender smiled. "That'll be Hatcher, the old lecher. He's a biologist, but he always loves good-looking young men. He might want you, but don't go to him unless he gives you a fetus. A blowjob for some raw DNA, but he can only have you for a fetus."

Spender smiled. "Which he won't get, as I know he'll never give me that. Don't look so frightened, boy. Blowjobs are easy. How often have you sucked me off? Nothing to it."

"A fetus? What the hell would I do with a fetus?" The whole idea seemed oddly surreal to Dustin. He attempted to wrap his mind around the concept. "I'd really rather not go around sucking men off. It's not exactly the most fun I've ever had."

Spender had to chuckle a little. Perhaps the boy envisaged Hatcher giving him a fetus in saline solution, right there at the party. "A hybrid fetus, Dustin. Remember, when we went to Fort Detterick, and... but don't worry. I won't give you anything you can't handle."

Spender crossed his legs and clasped his hands over his knee, looking at Dustin levelly. "Come here, Dustin," he said.

At Dustin's look, Spender smiled again. "Look. These men sometimes need a little, um, incentive... not even that. See, they have a stake in Alexei, too, they believe. They feel his life is forfeit for his parents', and... well, they feel entitled to it. You wanted to be like Alex. You said that."

He watched Dustin with an amused smirk on his lips.

Warily, Dustin made his way across to where the Smoker was sitting. "You aren't going to start selling me to the old guys, are you? Can't I just kill them?" The thought of a little boy being forced to make restitution for his parents supposed errors of judgment was almost too much for him. "They deserve to die. All of them, for what they've done."

"Do they?" Spender asked urbanely. "The Russians certainly didn't think so. When they got a hold of Alexei, they made us look downright wholesome. I wept to think of some of the things that they did to Alexei while he was there. But the die had been cast - there was nothing for it."

Spender looked at Dustin. "You've heard that politicians are a cutthroat and evil bunch. Now you know."

He lit a cigarette. "Sure you don't want one?"

"But why?" He waved the proffered pack of Morleys away, curtly. "Why would they hurt a little boy for crimes someone else had committed? It just doesn't make sense." He began to pace up and down in a manner that indicated that he was trying to get himself under control. "Please, for the last time, let him come home to me?"

"Ah, good anger, Dustin. I'm glad to see it. You know what we did when Alex got angry? We let him kill. And, what luck, there are a few tonight for you. Feel your anger, Dustin. Think of your Alex, scared and alone. Think of him, begging for release." Spender slapped the desk with the flat of his hand and stared into Dustin's eyes, dark in fury.

"Yes! YES! Good!" he almost shouted, sounding somewhat like the director of a film. "That's what I need to see from you."

He softened his voice. "But not yet. Come here, Dustin."

Oh, God. Here we go again, Dustin thought to himself. Dustin shook his head angrily. "Don't you ever get enough?" He flounced across to where the old man was sitting.

Spender took Dustin's arm, guiding him to his knees. He took his head in his hands, looking at him earnestly. "The question is, do you," he said evenly. He guided Dustin's face to his for a kiss, then had Dustin sit back on his heels. "I rather enjoy seeing you this way, on your knees before me. Go on; do it." He unzipped his pants and moaned as Dustin bent to take him into his mouth.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Expecting Greta, Spender said, "Leave us, please," but the other did not leave.

It was Hatcher. "You always did enjoy the young man, didn't you?" he asked pleasantly, coming up behind Dustin. "He does good work, too."

Dustin raised his head. This was too much for him. "Sir?" he asked. Why did he have to endure this? Only another hour or so and he would be gone from here. Sighing, he bent to his task again, wishing fervently that he could bite hard, and sever the demanding old man's dick. This was the last time he would ever do this.

Spender wrapped an arm around Dustin's shoulders, holding him and shielding him from Hatcher. "Oh, yes," he moaned. "Oh..." He grinned at Hatcher. "You know I love the boy. Why shouldn't he show me affection in return?"

Hatcher grinned lewdly, beginning to unzip his pants, staring at Dustin's ass, exposed as he sucked. He withdrew his cock and began stroking it. He took a step closer, placing a hand on Dustin's back.

Spender moved forward, snake quick, brushing Hatcher's hand off Dustin. "No," he said firmly. "You don't get to fuck him tonight. Not until you give me the fetus. Or agree to it."

"WHAT?" Hatcher said, rearing back. "You presume to say who can..."

"Yes, I do," Spender said calmly, stroking Dustin's hair. "And who can't, as well." He pumped his hips a little. "He's good, but he's not cheap."

Oh, great. Dustin shivered. The old fuck hadn't been kidding. He was going to rent out his ass in exchange for DNA and fetuses and stuff. He couldn't do this any more. He renewed his activity, hoping that the old guy would hurry up and get off.

"Enthusiastic, isn't he?" Spender said to Hatcher. "Don't you want him tonight, now? On you? Mouth on your cock, hot and wet.." He sucked in a breath as the thought coincided with the deed. "He's an artist, you know that." He moaned again, trying to hold back.

But Dustin's plight only aroused him further. The big time Hollywood producer was about to find out what being a rent boy was all about - just as he wanted. He'd wanted to be Alex, after all.

He looked at Hatcher. "Imagine that tight ass on your dick. Just for a moment. Think about it. I already know he'll do you the best you've ever had. You've always wanted him. You know what you must give me."

Hatcher's eyes widened as Spender groaned a final time, coming into Dustin's mouth in great gouts.

Spender hugged Dustin to him, as Hatcher said, "All right, goddamnit, but only one. And I get to fuck Alexei."

Spender smirked. "Of course, of course." He tucked his dick, rapidly losing its rigidity, back into his pants, patted Dustin's back, and bent to whisper softly to him. "Give him what he wants, so we'll get what we need. Then, you can kill him later. Go on. You want to be Alex, right? Go be Alex," he said, with that same smirk.

"I can be Alex." Dustin hissed. "But I'm not Alex, and he isn't me." He rose to his feet and stalked out of the room, back towards the dining room. I'm done with this. I won't do it, whatever you say.

Hatcher smiled at Spender, before turning and following "Alexei." He put a hand on the Dustin's shoulder. "How have you been?" he asked jovially. "In the same bedroom as before?" He arched a brow, grinning. "I see you're still being good for your Daddy, Alexei."

"Yeah? And now you think that I'm gonna be good for you? Well, dream on, old man. You can go jerk off and live, or pester me and die. Your choice." Dustin had his hand on the knife in his pocket, and he stood, tall and arrogant, waiting for the man's response.

Hatcher had stopped in his tracks. Alex had never talked back to him before, not like that. He put his arm around him. "Alex? You used to enjoy this. You said you'd run away with me, and come to live with me in Sweden. Did someone make you a better offer?"

"It was me, John," laughed a matronly woman in her forties as she walked past them. "You were going to be my sweet one, weren't you Alex?" She walked around him, smiling at his blank stare. "Surely you remember me -- Stella." She leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a stain of bright red lipstick.

Hatcher scowled. "He's mine for now," he told Stella.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Stella said, winking at Dustin and walking away.

Dustin frowned at the woman and scrubbed at his cheek. This was becoming harder to bear at every moment. He jerked angrily away from Hatcher's embrace.

"You will keep your hands off me. I am not now, nor will I ever again have sex with you. Believe that or not, as you will, but I will walk away from you now, and if you follow me, you are a dead man." Dustin turned, suiting the words to the deed, and walked away, leaving Hatcher standing, astonished.

Hatcher stared for a moment. "Alex. Come back here, right now." He couldn't believe it. Spender had assured him the boy was trained... and he'd been so pliable in the past. What was this?

Not believing Alex would kill him unless given leave to do so, and not knowing that not only wasn't this Alex, but that he had been given leave to do just that, he followed the boy, jerking him into an alcove and shoving him against the wall, holding his throat.

"Remember your place, boy, and your job," he growled. "Now, are you going to do it, or do I have to tell your Daddy you were a bad boy?"

He knew that was a definite threat to Alex, and Alex would quail when he said that.

Dustin smiled seraphically. Leaning forward to place a small peck on Hatcher's nose, he whispered, "What did I say?" As Hatcher frowned, wondering what he meant, Dustin thrust the knife upwards under Hatcher's ribcage to stab into his heart. "Too bad really, isn't it? Too bad that you're stupid. Too bad that you used Alex the way that you did. Too bad that you're a dead man."

He jerked the knife out of Hatcher and, as the old man crumpled and fell, stooped to wipe the blade on his expensive suit.

Hatcher looked up at Alex. "Alex... you're a bad boy..." he croaked out. "This... why are you doing this? Why did you say that about...?"

His head tilted to the side, and his hand flopped, and then was still.

The knife had once more vanished into Dustin's clothing, and he stepped over Hatcher's body, leaving it behind without a second glance. Moving briskly to the bar, he asked for a martini, and stood, sipping it, for all the world as though he were a celebrity surveying a crowd of fans.

Spender had come out of his study, and noticed Dustin at the bar. He walked over to him. "That was quick work, Alex," he said, as Stella walked towards them.

Spender greeted her warmly, taking her hand.

"It's been so long, Stella. How is the research going?"

Stella smiled. "It's going well. We're making new discoveries every day." She turned to Alex, grinning at him.

Spender looked at Dustin. "Did John give you the access codes, or a key?"

"Access codes?" Dustin stared at him. "What access codes? He didn't give me anything." It suddenly dawned on him that he had possibly made a mistake. He wondered what the hell he was going to do now, but he was through with the old man's satyriasis. No more. He would not tolerate it any more.

Stella frowned at him. "Why, the --"

Spender shut her up with a look. "For the fetus. From John. In return for..." his lips recurved, "...services rendered."

Stella gave "Alex" a knowing look, and a smirk. "Don Juan," she said.

Spender scowled at her, and turned back to Dustin, realization dawning. "You didn't do it, did you? You just killed him."

Fury darkened his eyes. "You fool. You stupid, stupid, fool."

He looked at a large man who was walking around with an hors d'oeuvres tray. "Julian," he called.

The man started their way.

Dustin was afraid. He'd miscalculated, and that was bad news. Panic flooded him for a moment. This was it, for sure, unless...

He threw his glass hard at Spender, and ran for it, shoving though the crowd with an ease born of desperation. Leaving the large reception room behind, he rounded the corner into the kitchen. He knew that he would be able to make a break for freedom as long as he had even the slightest amount of luck. He poised behind the door, knife at the ready, waiting for the pursuit that was sure to follow.

"After him," Spender ordered Julian, and the thug ran after Dustin, pushing aside several startled partygoers as he went.

Julian was unhappy. He hated having to run suddenly. He had actually met an interesting lady and had been chatting her up when Spender had called him.

He'd wring the neck of this little brat...

He slowed as he approached the kitchen, walking in carefully. Seeing Dustin, he lunged for him, grabbing his knife hand. "Drop it, and come with me."

Spender appeared behind Julian. "Do it, Dustin."

Fright made Dustin strong. He kicked at Julian's groin, scoring with a blow that caused him to double up, promptly losing interest in the proceedings as he clutched at his balls. Dustin kicked him in the head, gasping as the man became still, and then faced Spender, beginning to smile as he realized that he was in control.

"No more, old man. There will be no more."

Spender moved to him quickly, hissing. "No more what, my boy?"

"No more using me as your fucktoy. No more patronization. No more 'boy'." Dustin faced Spender, wondering whether the old man would fight or run.

Spender lit a cigarette, smirking. "No? What then... Little Cub?"

"I walk away, right now, and you let me go." The downed bodyguard moaned, and Dustin kicked him again.

"No, no," Spender said sadly. "That's not how it goes." He moved swiftly towards Dustin, pinning him against the wall. "A brave attempt. But you gave yourself up; remember? Or do you really want to see your Alex dead?"

Julian moaned again.

"Get up," Spender told him dispassionately.

Julian struggled to his feet, stumbling.

"Hold him."

Spender drew back a hand as Julian held Dustin, and slapped him hard. "You'll do what and who I tell you to. You got that... Boy?" Spender slapped him again. "Get that fire gone from your eyes. It has no place here."

Julian leered. "Pretty boy... trying to run away? You know you can't."

Dustin gritted his teeth and thrust upwards with his knife, slicing into Julian's belly - a jagged slash that spilled his innards out over the enforcer's tux. Turning, he punched out at the Smoker, hitting him in the throat with his left hand. As the old man staggered back, clutching his throat, Dustin stabbed Julian once again, this time in the back of the neck. Then he turned and ran for the place where he had stashed his belongings, and from there, out into the night.

Spender lay on the floor, clutching his throat and gurgling.

Julian lay, holding his neck and his gut, bleeding out rapidly.

Dustin had gathered his bags, and headed for the area where the guests had parked their cars. Nodding to the valet, Michael, he threaded his way through the collection of expensive automobiles.

"Michael, Mr. Hatcher wants these put in his car. Gimme the key, okay?" He held out his hand, grunting his thanks as the other handed over the key in question. Swiftly, he made for the car, and opened the trunk to stow his belongings. As Michael turned away to greet another arrival and park his vehicle, Dustin climbed into the black BMW and started it up, then gunned it, and was gone before Michael had any idea what had happened.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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