*************************************************

Author's Note: Okay I know POV stories are a little confusing and this is my first one so just
bear with me. This section is rated NC-17 SMUT ALERT! 


Possession 


    Mulder had no intention of telling Scully of his dream last night, they had always told
eachother everything but the dream held a quality of reality, a kind of premonition and he was
determined to keep his eye on her until this case was over. 
    Watching her now he relived the moment of his dream when she was standing on the balcony
before that unseen phantom dragged her into the house. And the look on her face that made him
angry with thoughts of how it could have gotten there. She was talking to Mr. Laughlin now, he
had to keep an eye on this guy for some reason he didn't trust him, especially not with Scully. 
    He had told her he was going to survey the outside of the 
plantation.  He was still watching her when a glow came from a the grove of magnolias. It was
not the rampant light of the fire he had seen last night but the single glow of a lantern.  he asked himself as he wandered toward the light.
Mulder came to an instant conclusion: someone was there. 
    The light waxed and waned but stayed in a single spot, the light seemed to be coming from a
clearing in the magnolias. He made his way through the magnolia grove careful to make no sound
in his passing, he puled out his gun from the hip holster at his side and approached the unseen
intruder and the flickering light. As Mulder drew nearer to the spot where the light shone he
heard noises echo from the lantern-lit clearing ahead-- the distinct sound of a shovel hitting
dirt. He thought it might be an artifact hunter, he had heard about prowlers who search Civil
War cemeteries and battlegrounds looking for valuable material buried on some poor solider's
person, gold teeth, buttons, and jewelry, but her had never witnessed anything like this before.

    Only a few more yards between him and the clearing and he could now see that it was indeed a
lantern, and then the profile of a man came to his vision. The fellow was tall and thin, very
thin, he wore a wide-brimmed hat on his head, this was all Mulder could make out for the dense
growth obscured his vision of the intruder. 
    He was one tree from the clearing and the man still had not noticed him yet. He listened
intently and heard the man groan with the exertion of his labor, his breath was shallow and
wheezing from his lungs with a harsh wet rattling. Mulder noticed there was urgency in the
digger's frantic excavation of the clearing, as if possessed by some inner frenzy and was racing
against time and the world to find the thing he was searching for. 
    He watched the man intently for a minute and was tempted to call Scully for the man sounded
in dire need of medical help, even his unexperienced ears heard the sounds of pneumonia when he
heard them. 
    He readied himself to face the intruder, raised his gun and stepped into the clearing,
"FBI!" he shouted pointing the gun in the direction he had seen the lantern light. 
    Abruptly the light was gone. Mulder found himself in a clearing...an empty clearing with
nothing but the rustling of magnolia leaves around him. He was completely alone. The figure of
the digging man had completely disappeared. The sound of the shovel against the earth, as well
as the ragged breathing , had also vanished. 
   "No," muttered Mulder as he took a couple more steps into the clearing. "No, damnit, I saw it
this time for sure." 
    He loosened his grip on his weapon but did put it back in it's holster and stooped to
inspect the ground. A thick scattering of leaves covered covered the ground where man had been
seen, it appeared to be undisturbed. There was no sign whatsoever that anyone had been there
recently, or that a shovel had penetrated the ground. He was positive he had seen the yellow
glow of the lantern as well as the gaunt figure of a man digging frantically in the grove. 
    The puzzling light that had danced on his wall the night before could have been after
effects of the dream, but there was no apparent explanation for this latest occurrence. 
    He stood back up and took a few more steps the the center of the clearing. When he reached
the spot where the man had labored, he felt like he had steeped into meat locker. An intense
cold like he had never experienced in his life engulfed him, his mind went rampant with thought
of paranormal happenings that involve cold feelings after an apparition of a ghost has been
seen. The cold sank past the barrier of his clothing into his skin and muscle, causing his very
bones to ache. A fit of coughing gripped him, wracking his entire body, and great gusts of
frosty breath rolled from his mouth and nostrils. It was almost as if the 60 degree temperature
of the November afternoon had suddenly dropped 30 or 40 degrees. 
    That was not all that affected Mulder, either. He began to feel physically ill, both
feverishly hot and deathly cold at the same time. His lungs were full and heavy, he found it
difficult to breathe. He was also aware that he was suffering mentally. He felt a great sense of
sadness and grief possess him, as if everything dear in his life had been torn from him and was
irretrievably lost. 
    "What is happening to me?" he said aloud. Another fit of coughing took him, he stared at the
ground beneath his feet and strangely enough it was no longer covered with the fallen leaves of
autumn. Rather, it was covered with patches of dirty snow, the grass and dirt lay chared and
black beneath these ugly patches of white. Again the scent of burnt magnolia reached his
nostrils. 
     Stunned by the flood of sensations and emotions that gripped him, Mulder staggered back a
few steps. Almost immediately the phenomenon disappeared. Both the physical and mental illness
vanished, 
leaving him dazed and disoriented, He breathed freely, his lungs unburdened of the wet phleghm
as they had been a moment ago, gooseflesh disappeared from his skin as he felt the temperature
return to normal. 
     Mulder took a couple more steps backward until he was on the edge of the clearing, he stood
there trying to recompose himself. "Damn," he said. "What *was* that?!" 
    Staring into the dense greeness of the trees, he could find no answer to the question. It
was simply a small patch of land with magnolia trees encompassing it. He considered walking back
to the center of the clearing again, but thought better of the idea. He recalled the feeling of
creeping death that had gripped is body as well as the dark emotions of grief and lunacy that
infected his mind like an expanding cancer. He didn't want to experience anything like
that...not ever again. 
    He walked back to the house where he found Scully still talking to the Laughlins. She saw
him and a concerned look spread across her face, she said something to Mrs. Laughlin and started
toward him. 
   "Mulder, are you okay? You look pale and a little shaken." She said as she laid a hand on his
forehead not waiting for his answer. 
   "I'm fine, Scully," he said as he shrugged her hand away. "Did you find anything out from
them." he indicated to the Laughlins. 
   "Yes," she said glancing at her notebook "A local antique dealer has a the journal of a union
officer that occupied the plantation during the time of the murder of Shannon Braxton." She put
her arm down impatiently. "Mulder, why are we here?" 
    Not really hearing her he shook his head still dazed from his encounter in the woods.
"What?" 
   "Why are we investigating a 140 year old murder? There is no evidence of any foul play in the
present and we just have the word of a farm couple to verify that anything has actually happened
here. And if anything has what can we do about it?" 
   Still not hearing what she said and not really caring he doesn't answer her questions. "Did
you get the address of this antique dealer?" 
    Seeing that her questions will not be answered she nods and follows him as he heads toward
the car.
***************************************************
Possession 


    We parked across the street from the antique dealer's shop. It was in the center of
Vicksburg's oldest commercial streets. A little ornamental bay window was filled with hardcover
and paperback books. The dignified sign hung over the window--polished brass letters against the
forest green--proclaimed GANT'S BOOKSHOP. 
    We steeped into the bookstore with a resounding ding of the bell overhead. Then one of my
favorite smells greeted me, the smell of old books. I slowly went to the center of the tiny
bookshop as Mulder went to the desk to ring the bell which had a sign in front of it
saying--ring for service. 
    Almost all of the books specialized in the American Civil War. As well as artifacts from
that time period, sabres, cannon balls, bayonets, tarnished buttons and buckles from uniforms
those proud men of the blue and gray had worn over 140 years ago. 
   "May I help you folks with something?" asked a gravelly but polite from the direction of the
sales counter. I walked to the counter with Mulder and we showed him our badges. 
   "I am Agent Scully and this is Agent Mulder we're from the FBI." 
    The man looked slightly puzzled by this revelation. 
   "We are investigating the happenings of a plantation called Magnolia. Do you have an
knowledge regarding this plantation or it's history?" I explained 
    "Well, all I know is that it's reputed haunted, little is known about the place except for
it's tragic burning and the death of the Mistress of the house, plenty of speculation, tall
tales and folk stories are told but nothing is really known about what truly happened the night
of November, 30 1864." The elderly gentleman said in his historian's knowledge of hard facts,
not unlike my science. 
    Mulder then interrupted the man, "We were told by the couple that now own Magnolia, that
you, sir, are in possession of a diary of one of the union officers that occupied Magnolia
during the time of Shannnon Braxton's death." 
   "Yes, I own the diary of Lt. John William Allen second in command of the union garrison." 
   "May we see it, sir?" Mulder asked the man 
   "Did anyone ever find out exactly where Shannon Braxton is buried." I asked thinking if I
could examine the body we could resume our duty assignment back in Washington and not be chasing
140 year old ghosts. 
   "No, I'm sorry they never found her body. Edward--Shannon's husband is buried in the family
plot on the southern border of the plantation grounds, but no one has any clue where poor
Shannon was laid to rest." He said while rummaging through a stack of old volumes of
miscellaneous journals and records. 
   "Here it is but before I let you have it I must say I cannot let you out of the shop with it.
It is a valuable book and very fragile but you are welcome here anytime to look at it." 
   "Thank you, sir." I said hurridly. I had never experianced anything like that. I looked at
the book and it felt as if all the evils of all the world were compressed in that littlevolume
of a person's life I had to get out there, fast. 
*          *              *             *         *         * 

June 12th, 1859 

    Tonight I visited the neighboring plantation of Magnolia.  for the first time since Augustus
Braxton's death nearly seven years ago. I know that it is unforgivable and rude that I have not
paid my resects to the Braxton household in such a lengthy period of time, but I have been busy
with my own affairs, and so has the current master of Magnolia, young Edward. Directly after his
father's death, Edward attented Norther university and the on to West point in hopes of building
a future in the military. However, Edward left the school and returned home with the the
atabolition swept the country. 
    The purpose of my visit this even is the wedding of you Edward Braxton to one Shannon
Porter, of Virgina. The ceremony and reception afterward were joyous and extravagant. Only a few
months after thier inital meeting, Edward asked Shannon parent's for thier daughter's hand in
marriage and they gladly consented. All in all, the decorations, the music, and the food and
drink made the entire even on the most lavish of the season. 
    Man and wife are an impressive pair, to be surel. edward is tall and handsome, having
inherited the rich brown hair and the hazel-green eyes of his father. He is a brash outspoken
young man, but one deserving of any man's trust and respect. Though Edward was quite the dapper
tonight the real show was his new bride Shannon. young Shannon, herself only eighteen years of
age, was the picture of pure lovliness. She was a small woman, as petite and delicate as one of
my daughter's china dolls. the lady's hair is long and the shade of coppery auburn that I truly
believe I have never seen before. Her eyes are blue and her skin is as fine and white as
porcielin. She was dressed in a fine white wedding gown of the most lavish silk and lace, which
included the train a good eight feet in length, carried by children of the Braxton slaves.
Shannon the complete opposite of her husband. She is shy and demure, and exhibits the most
engaging personality and manners. As my family and I wittnessed the exchanging of vows, I could
not help but hope that shannon would have a positive influance on young Edward. Perhaps she will
be able to polish away some of the rough edges of her new husband that he has possessed since
his chilhood. 

*          *        *          *        *         * 

     We walked out of the bookshop together, I don't know why Scully did not let us look at the
book it would help our case. She wasn't exactally what I would call enthused about this case and
the moment she picked up the book I had a sudden flashback to the dream I had had two nights
ago. The expression mirrored the one on her face before she was swallowed by that shadow of
laughter, horror and grief and tortured soul that lay behind those blue depths. 
    I steal a glance at my partner out of the coner of my eye, her back is straight against the
seat and her gaze is set on the road. No longer is the expresseion I had seen before just a dark
blue sttely gaze staring at he road, and I worried, I worried for her. 


    The night of November 8th Wade Laughlin was subjected to the most grisly nightmare of his
life. 
    He found himself on horseback, riding cautiously through a stretch of dense woods.. The
animal beneath him was a sturdy chesnut gelding, the bridle and saddle were common federal
calvary in the mid 1800's. HE surveyed his surroundings. It was spring. the forrest was lush and
green with new leaves, and the white blossoms of the dogwood were in bloom. He stared through
the foliage to the sky above. the sun hung high in the sky; it was mid-afternoon. 
    He rode onward for a while, finally reaching a small stream.  He found no beauty in this
sight. He shucked a Spenvcer reapeating rifle from a saddle boot and dismounted. he tethered the
horse and knealt to the stram to fill his canteen, as he did so he leaned over and stared at his
reflection in the water. The refelction that stared back at him was not his own,yet not
entirely. There were configuring differences, like the battle worn uniform of a union capation
that clotheed his powerful form and the bushy muttonchop side-burns that graced both cheeks. 
    He gave no further thought to his appearance as a sound at the far end of the creek bed drew
his attetion. He corcked the canteen and slung it over his shoulder. he stood and strained to
hear the sound again. it came a moment later:someone fifty yards away was singing happily. he
recognized the hymn they sang as being an old Negro spritual. 
    Wade could not understand the emotion that filled him when he heard the chourus of the hymn.
he was suddenly blinded by such a feeling of hatred and contempt that the very strength of it
threatened to consume him. A cruel smile caem across his face and he worked the lever of the
Spencer, jacking a fresh cartritge in his breech's pocket. He then made his way toward the
source of the singing. 
    He found her a moment later. It was a young Negro girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years
of age. She was dressed in the ragged clothes of a slave, but did not exhibit the air of
opressed like many he had come cross since the beggingg of the war. No, the girl seemed content
in the chore of washing clothes. Again, Wade felt himself bristle at the word of the hymn. they
seemed to awaken something ugly inside him, something sadistic and ungodly. And, as he stared at
the black girl herself, something else surfaced within him, lust, pure and unbridled. But it was
a lust born not of love, but of cruel power and control. 
    He took another step forward, the sole of his calvary boot bearing down upon a twig. the
length of the wood snappeed and drew the attetion of the young slave girl. Her singing ended and
her eyes widened with alarm at the sight of the tall Union captain with the muttonchop whiskers.
the girl cried out in alarm and fled, leaving her master's clothes behind. He waited until she
got a few yards down the creekbed and then sontinued in persuit, he waited until there was a
clear shot and slung the Spencer on his shoulder, took aim and let off a single shot. The bullet
hit the young woman squarly in the center of her lower back. Her spine shattered by the
52-caliber slug, she collapsed, falling facedown into the mossy texture of the creekbank. 
    As he advanced toward the wounded girl, Wade Laughlin tried to feel outrage and revulsion at
what he had just done, but there was no place for such emotions wihtin him. He walked toward the
whimpering woman slowly, his gait amost predetory in nature. When he reached the spot where she
lay, he stared at the bloody hole in her back with satisfaction relishing the skill of his aim.
He could conjure no degree of pity for his fallen victim, only contempt and that awfule
sensation o mounting desire. 
    As if she were no more then a sack of flour, he slipped the toe of his boot bentath her body
and flipped her over onto her back. The look of horror and searing agony thgat contored her dark
face only seemed to feed his carnal hunger. He hooked the muzzle of the rifle on the hem of the
girl's skirt and pulled until it was around her waist. She wore no undergarments. 
   "No, suh" She pleaded, tears coursing down her dark cheeks. "Please, suh, don't..." 
    He ignored her feeble proststes. He laughed loudly, savagly, then tossed the Spencer aside
and began to unbuckle  tge brass buckle of his belt and continued with the inevitable. 

END OF PART 4******************PART 5 COMING SOON
    He awoke. 
    For well over a century he had lain dormant beneath the cold earth, condemned to remain
there, inactive, while others of his kind roamed freely in the realm of the living. But now he
had been remembered. His name had been spoken aloud and he had been roused from the dark sleep
of death. After nearly a hundred and forty years, the chains of limbo had been cast away and he
was once again free to do as he pleased. 
    His essence wasted no time in leaving it's resting place. The night air was crisp and cool,
and he could detect the faint smell  wood smoke in the air.He sensed a changing of seasons
autumn was swiftly changing to winter. The weather brought back memories when he walked the
earth as a flesh and blood man, and not an entity of a soul. He had memories of carnage and
fury; the thunderous roar of cannonfire, the flash of saber blades in sunlight, and the
countless torments he himself had afflicted before the final act of death was administered. 
    The plantation house stood where it had during the violent instant of his own demise, but it
was not the same. It appeared different the it had before. He could smell the new chemicals and
materials not known to him, during his time. He rose upward, past the boughs of the trees,
spiralling toward the dark sky. He rested on the peak of the mansion for a while, exhausted by
his flight. The period of confinement had weakened his spirit, but he knew that eventually he
would grow stronger, much stronger. But for the time being, he would have to content himself
with watching rather then acting. 
    He stared down at the circular drive puzzled at the three vehicles that were there. One
seemed to be a horseless buckboard, while the others seemed to be some sort of strange buggy.
What havoc he could wreak if he had blessed with an armored wagon such as those. 
    He had to find a host to inhabit. Then he would be able to live as a man again. He would be
able to perform the atrocities he had once completed with relish and abandon. 
    He contemplated the place known to him as Magnolia. He sensed the approach of an
anniversary: the anniversary of the firey destruction, an incident he had missed out on due to
his unexpected death. He could sense the coming of the snow as well as a confrontation. A
confrontation of destructive consequence between himself and the master of Magnolia. 
    But even he knew that is could not take place on the spectral plane he now occupied. Rather,
it would have to take place in the land of the living between men who could bleed and fight...
and even die, if it came to such extreme. 
    And if it was up to the spirit of James Bates, it most certainly would. 

*           *             *           *          * 


    For Shannon Braxton, life at Magnolia, was pure paradise. To say her time there at the
plantation had been idyllic would be putting it mildly. Since marrying Edward a year before,
Shannon had been treated with an honor reserved for royalty. The Braxton slaves had taken to her
directly from the start. 
    If anything cast a shadow over her happiness, it was the trouble brewing among the slave
holders and the federal government. Plantation owners were bristling with indignation over the
North's support of the abolitionists. Personally, Shannon believed it was wrong to hold a deed
to another person's body and soul, but that was not the entire gist of the conflict. Rather, it
was the power of the Northern states over the Southern states, what they could and could not do.
Shannon knew that debate over slavery was putting a strain on her husband. Lately, Edward did
not seem like the bold, brash, spirited man she had met and fallen in love with in Richmond.
These days he seemed pensive and troubled. She knew that he was frightened, even though he would
never admit to her that any such emotion existed within him. He was secretly afraid of losing
all his late father had spent his entire life working to achieve. There had even been talk of
succeeding from the Union to form the Southern states into a government all unto itself. 
    Shannon attempted to ignore such talk. As her lady-friends on the neighboring plantations
told her, such matters were the concern of menfolk. She knew that she should do as the other
belles in Vicksburg did; cast the  troubles of running the plantation aside and concentrate on
the genteel pleasures of being a well-to-do-lady of the South. But still, she could not help but
share Edward's concerns and hopes that the storm that was brewing dissipated before it grew into
something that neither North or South could control. 

*                *              *               * 


    We have been on the Magnolia plantation for four days now, and no closer to solving our
"case" then we had been when we started. neither Mulder nor I have experienced anything
paranormal since our arrival, nothing that I know of. there was the feeling of fear when I
looked at the diary of the union officer but other then that nothing.  I did, however, have the
feeling of uneasiness in the house. Little things put me on edge, more then usual. 
    One thing that was different was Mulder. He seemed to be undergoing a transformation. Not
just a physical transformation but something deeper. He was bolder and more self-assured. His
hair is longer and he has taken to growing a mustache. 
    Such behavior was not my concern, for all these things seemed to be an improvement. Rather,
it was an underlying attitude that lurked just beneath his personality that frightened me a
little. I had always considered him a safe person to be around I know he will never hurt me. He
is brasher and more impulsive, acting more on instincts then on his intellect. I detect a hint
of danger in the man, something that would never be connected with the old Mulder. this
disturbed me most of all. 
    It was not Mulder alone that troubled me. I had begun to notice more and more that something
was taking place a Magnolia, something more subtle then obvious. 
    It started the other day when Mulder and I were surveying one of the second floor drawing
rooms when I had the feeling we were not the only ones present. Many times over the past couple
of days I had the feeling that I was being watched. 
    When I had told Mulder about these things he had of course gone for the ghost of Shannon
Braxton. For the sake of argument if it is a ghost this one is not the good-mannered southern
belle but something more sinister, more evil. I had gone into the bathroom this morning and
discovered my hairspray was missing. It had reappeared that afternoon... on top of the main
staircase. Anyone could have stepped on that and have broken a bone or worse. 
    This is what disturbed me most of all. I came more and more convinced there was someone here
at Magnolia that was no good and in time, could prove to be more dangerous then playful. The
husband. 


   They were walking the grounds together. Talking of this and that mostly theories about the
case, when they paused a third of the way around the plantation grounds. Oddly enough, the place
they stopped was the Braxton family burial plot. the ornate fence of wrought iron was chocked
with weeds and honeysuckle vines, the latch was fused with rust, so they had to climb their way
over the waist high barrier. The area was relatively small for a cemetery. From the  dozen or so
stones that stood shoulder to shoulder covered three generation of Braxton's. They found the one
they were looking for. It had been worn away by weather, and moss had long since made it it's
home, but it was still legible. It read: Edward Braxton, 1832-1854. respectful son, Loving
husband, & Gallant soldier. 
    There were several vacant plots next to Edward's grave, obviously reserved for Edward's wife
and family he'd never been given a chance to sire. Scully stared at the earth next to Edward's
stone and knew that Shannnon should be there next to her husband in death, as she had been in
life. She turned to gaze at the vast expanse of Magnolia and wondered exactly where the woman's
remains were buried. It saddened her a bit just thinking of it. 
    They were exiting the gravesite and entering the rear garden when a noise echoed from the
opposite side of the garden. It was peculiar noise, a brittle crunch. 
   "What was that?" asked Scully. There had been something sinister about the sound. 
    Mulder seemed to think along the same lines. "Stay here," he told her. 
   "The hell I will." replied Scully "I want to see what it was." 
   "I said...stay here," repeated Mulder this time with more vehemence. 
    Scully opened her mouth to argue the point, but something stopped her. She could not
identify his expression at first, then decided it was just plain old male overprotectivness. She
was a little taken aback, she was a confident capable woman who could take care of  herself, and
Mulder most of all understood this fact. But his eyes clearly said "Stand back and let man
handle this." This new trait in him drew a mixed reaction from Scully. In a way she was turned
on by such a macho display from her partner, while in another she was irritated that he was
telling her what and what not to do. 
    In any case she decided to let him play the protective studmuffin, if only this one time.
She watched as he let his gun go from the holster on his hip to "ready for battle' position in
one swift movement. She waited until he was around the corner of the house before following him
herself. 
   She was almost to where he was standing when she heard him exclaim more shocked then angry. 
   "Well I'll be damned!" 
    She dropped the timid female act and came to join him "What is it, Mulder?" 
   "That's what," said Mulder pointing toward their rental car. 
    Someone had thrown a rock threw the windshield of the car. 


END OF PART 5*************PART 6 COMING SOON