A/N Nikola and Helen dance to Glen Miller. Will is not afraid to die.

NINE

Helen filed away the brain scans and test results for the night, having burned the midnight oil well into the twilight hours, and yawned. She realized how isolated she had felt the past few days, having been so caught up with the Sybarites.

Will spent all of his free time talking to them and trying to get to know them better. Henry was always holed up in his lab making sure the Sanctuary was functioning. The Big Guy had taken over a large amount of the day to day administrative duties, and Kate was usually off being her girl Friday, bagging abnormals, touching base with their contacts and keeping abreast of the information networks. And Nikola … well, her wine cellar was dangerously replete once more.

Helen wandered into her office, only to find it empty. She dumped her files onto her desk, noticed a wine stain and sighed. Now was a good a time as any to check in with Nikola to see if he had found anything more from the journal and scrolls.

She first headed off to the direction of the wine cellars, when she heard strains of music coming from the corridors. Curious, it led her to the library, and she cautiously eased the doors open.

Nikola had set up her gramophone, a gift from James Watson, and one of her old swing records was playing. He was casually sifting through some notes, and looked up to see her enter. A grin played on his face.

She walked in, happily sighing at the old music she hadn't heard in quite some time. "Well, this brings back memories."

"Indeed," Nikola rose. "Like the time I took you to see Glen Miller." He held his hand out to her, and she hesitated. He pouted, gently taking her by the wrist. "Come on, dance with me."

"How much wine have you had, Nikola?"

"Irrelevant. But I know you haven't stopped to take a break in weeks, and you could do with some relaxing." He twirled her on the spot, and grinning audaciously, pulled her right up against him. She frowned, but it was more to hold back a smile.

"I showed you a good time, and I remember being a perfect gentleman about it too. Don't worry, Helen, your virtue's safe with me."

"Doubtful," but she finally laughed and let him lead her to the music.

"Remember when I took you to see Billie Holiday? I remember she was always your favourite."

"That was James who took me, and you know it."

Nikola frowned, pretending to be affronted, but then shrugged. "Still, it should have been me."

"You disappeared after the war, remember? No one knows what happened to you … what you did … why you were gone for so long."

Nikola smirked, leaning in to her ear. "I promise it wasn't another woman." Helen swatted him away. Nikola contented himself to swaying them back and forth, a curiously thoughtful look on his face.

"What are you plotting? I won't fall for you kissing me again."

"We all did our best to try and distract you … but it never worked, did it?"

Surprised, Helen felt hot tears prickle the back of her throat. She turned away from him, resting her head on his shoulder instead. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I mean, " Nikola stopped still, "that you always wanted it to be Druitt taking you around, didn't you?"

Helen let go of his arms, crossing them over her chest. She suddenly felt very fragile and didn't trust herself to speak. Nikola, unexpectedly gentle, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up so that he could see her eyes. "I just want you to remember who was there for you when you needed it."

"I haven't forgotten."

Nikola raised an eyebrow as if to remark to the contrary, but then shook her shoulder playfully. "We danced to this sixty years ago, and if you can keep up with me in the two-step, I just might share with you what I've found out."

Helen laughed, forcing herself back into good cheer. "Keeping things from me? Cheeky bastard."

"Everything with a price, but trust me – it's worth it." He grabbed her hand and pulled her from her misery, inviting her back to a time when the world had endless possibilities and there was still music she could dance to.

Helen woke up feeling a comfortable weight around her shoulders. She could hear the scratchy tones of her gramophone spinning endlessly around a blank track, and see the expanse of her library. She couldn't rightly remember how she had fallen asleep in there, but turned to her side to realize she was sitting on a couch leaning against Nikola, one of his arms wrapped around her in a comradely fashion.

He was sleeping deeply, and no wonder considering how little he partook in the exercise. So she gently extricated herself from his arm. Yawning away the last cobwebs of sleep, she walked over to her desk where he had been keeping notes.

The cheeky bastard had actually managed to go through the entire journal. Excitedly, she began to read his notes from where he had last picked up from her research.

The explorer Vasquez had managed to observe the vampire city for a month, making daily trips from a neighboring human village and diligent efforts to be unseen and unnoticed by the vampires. He described in broken detail their daily lives, their buildings, the way their city was organized, and the different castes they had set up to delegate work. The carniviscus vampirus seemed to hold the bulk of the gathering castes, bringing in fresh humans for food supplies, only allowed to eat after the sanguine had their fill.

But what were the halispirus, the Sybarites, used for? They were only rarely seen, though evidence of their presence denoted their intrinsic need to the sanguine.

Helen read on. The explorer Vasquez had noticed unease and great turmoil amongst the lower ranking vampires. This was obviously a society built on domination, and the sanguine had to control their servants with iron fists. Rebellion rose at every corner, although in pockets small enough that they posed no real threat. Helen read on and discovered that the temple her team had discovered was a secret building made by the halispirus away from prying eyes. Here they housed the archives of their history, and worshipped their goddess, the Silver Lady, who was the moon. Vasquez had made several attempts to enter the temple … it seemed he had also been after those scrolls. In fact, they were the initial motivation for his expedition. But why?

Whiny plebeians only fit to serve. Helen snorted at Nikola's own colourful commentary.

She read of disturbing accounts where young halispirus were taken away by the sanguine into one of their inner chambers, only to emerge later with no visible changes, but a distinctively altered attitude. Vasquez only noted these instances out of the integrity to keep records, but said nothing further of them. Helen pondered on this, it felt like there was more. She noticed Nikola had added his own thoughts.

Experiments. Castration. Enhancement. More fit to serve.

The halispirus that were sometimes seen amongst the sanguine were always displayed somewhat with the wealthy and powerful. Always covered in ornate clothing and jewelry, but never as a sign of their own personal power, but of their master. Like a commodity. Like…

Pleasure slaves.

Helen felt her stomach swoop in a sickening fashion. She could already make the connections between these two incidents and deduce the conclusion Nikola had come to. And she was afraid he was right. The Sybarites weren't pleasure-seekers by nature … somehow, the sanguine vampirus had blasted their pain and pleasure centers open, so as to better manipulate and control them. This was one major enhancement to their physical makeup that had nothing to do with their natural abnormal gifts. Otherwise, they may have been too powerful and pose a threat to the sanguine rule. Perhaps they once did, and when conquered, were also neutered in a twisted fashion.

The Path of Silver. The Gift of the Silver Lady. Only those who are worthy may pass through unharmed.

Vasquez was obsessed by these terms. The halispirus held something in their history, in the archives of their temple that he wanted. It seemed like the scrolls Helen and Will had managed to obtain held the key to these secrets, and Vasquez had failed to obtain. What was this gift? What was this path? It sounded like some bizarre ritual. A ceremony?

Vasquez's journal ended abruptly, his last entry remarking how the next day he was going to attempt to enter the temple to observe one of the ceremonies the halispirus observed at full moon. The fact that his journal remained blank immediately afterward did not signal well for his healthy return.

Helen sat back reeling. They had learned much from the journal, but it opened up more questions than answers. Answers held in the indecipherable scrolls, and her two mysterious guests.

Will wandered through the corridors of the Sanctuary, having been unable to sleep. He had been feeling restless the past few nights, only managing to catch a few minutes here and there. His mind was buzzing constantly, latched firmly onto a new puzzle. Too bad he didn't have an off-switch.

Wandering aimlessly, he stood in front of the Sybarites' chambers without realizing his feet had taken him there. Curious, he could see through the door window that they were awake, communicating in their wordless fashion.

The male Sybarite suddenly turned and stared right at him. Somehow, he had heard or sensed Will from the other side. With a pale hand, he beckoned him in.

Nervous, Will opened the door and stepped inside. The two Sybarites were sitting up in their water tanks, observing him keenly.

"You cannot sleep." The male Sybarite observed.

Will shrugged sheepishly, pulling up a chair and seating himself beside them. "Finding it hard to, these days."

"You seek answers, friend. But you do not ask me for them."

Will was taken aback and tried quickly to find a diplomatic response. "I appreciate the offer, I do. I really want to take you up on it … but everyone here thinks it's best to take it slowly. Be cautious."

The male Sybarite sneered dismissively. "You are afraid then. It is better you do not ask if you are afraid." The female Sybarite eyed him coolly though, looking deeper, and she shook her head. "He is not afraid. But he will not break his duty."

The male Sybarite leaned close in to Will, his nostrils flaring. Will's vision filled with those large, black eyes, and the almost translucent skin. The Sybarite intoned softly to him, "You fear certain things over death. You are familiar with death."

Will laughed weakly. "I've died twice."

"Then meet her again a third time." The male Sybarite suddenly closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Silvery mist began to curl slowly outwards, his pale fingers coaxing it out of him. The female stepped silently out of her tank and drifted towards Will.

"Whoa, hang on a second—"

Before Will could protest further, the female Sybarite took his head in her hands. She knelt down and whispered into his ear, "You must first be empty before you can receive the Lady's gift." Her mouth hovered over his, close enough to kiss, and she began inhaling.

Will felt something tug out from his lungs. At first it was like trying to breathe through a straw … and then it felt like the straw was collapsing. His chest seized and felt like it was gripped by an iron fist. He struggled, but the female Sybarite's grip on his face was strong and she was relentless. Black dots started to overwhelm his vision and Will felt like he was screaming endlessly with the sound going nowhere.

Just as he was about to faint, sweating, his lips numb, his face cold, the male Sybarite suddenly swooped in and placed his mouth firmly over Will's. Slowly, Will felt something funneling back into him, his chest seizing violently, scrabbling onto what breath it could. His vision exploded into stars that slowly began to fade, the female was supporting his arms so he wouldn't fall over, the male still holding on firmly. His chest hitched, there was finally enough for him to draw breath.

That breath was like the instant a floodgate opened. Will panicked as millennia of memories and images, of dreams and feelings suddenly roared into his mind's eye in an all-consuming tidal wave. Unbeknownst to him, he fainted dead away, falling limp into the Sybarite's arms.

The female brushed her hand over his face in concern, but knew he was breathing regularly and evenly now. He would be fine. Gently, the two Sybarites lifted him and placed him into one of the tanks. He was experiencing far more than any normal person should, he would need relief from some sensation.

Will lay in the tank of shallow water, occasionally twitching, and reliving a hundred lifetimes in one feverish dream.