Dear Buffy,
It occurs to me that we haven't done much talking outside of the status of the mission, and I kinda miss that. So I decided to send you a message that has nothing to do with the fate of the world and the battle against evil. ;-)

I'm scanning and pasting a postcard that I found on the table in our hotel room because it illustrates what I'm about to try to describe to you.

by cryssie

Although I haven't had a chance to see much of it yet, other than the ride from the airport to the hotel which took us past some beautiful scenery, including the Danube, I can already say that Hungary is unlike any city I've ever seen. The whole place feels old, ancient even. But not like South America ancient. It's different from seeing ruins, because Budapest was never abandoned. (Yes, Mena has already "burdened" me with historical facts about Hungary. Gasp. Save me from my intellectually curious Slayer! LOL)

Anyway, people here just kept building on top of other buildings. So it's like evolved and modern but still feels old. And it turns out the feeling is really hard to explain, so I'll write about it later once I've seen more of this beautiful, Old World city.

And speaking of old, Illyria is still trying to get me into bed with her! Well, maybe not the actual bed. So far, I've been doing pretty well at fending her off, but it's hard because I'm male, after all, and she's really hot -- in a leather clad, dominatrix sort of way. I know. I know it sounds funny, but in a way that it's not. Not really. Trust me on this.

I guess since we're in a new place, with sights to see and things to discover, she didn't try to seduce me at all last night. I heard her leave shortly after Mena fell asleep. She just went out to explore the city without so much as a by your leave. And Spike and Haley, who have been doing some sort of all-Brits-flock-together thing lately, joking around a lot and getting really friendly, apparently went on a pub crawl, which left me alone to watch over Mena for the night.

Not that I mind watching Mena, of course. I would have been worried about her if I had left her alone. But then, we were both so tired from our flight, and our bodies are still recovering from the wounds we got from battling Hyllus, so we both slept like babies all night long. At the moment, I'm the only one awake.

Mena's doing much better, by the way. Her Slayer healing really kicked in. She's probably more recovered from her severe wounds than I am from my very minor ones. No need to worry on that count. We're all in pretty good shape now. And Mena is practically jumping out of her skin in anticipation of exploring Budapest.

Well, I guess that's all for now. Hope all is well with you and the rest of your team. Tell everybody 'hi' for me and give the Dawnster a big hug if she's there with you.

Love and Miss You,
Xander

At the same moment he hit the send button, a knock on the door alerted him that his food had arrived. He opened the door to find Illyria holding his breakfast tray. That is to say, Illyria in Fred's guise. It was good to know that she was remembering to use that appearance when in public.

"A woman was attempting to enter your sleeping chamber, Xander. She said that this was for you, but she would not leave until I signed a piece of paper." She looked at him in her oddly expressionless way that clearly told him that he was expected to explain the situation to her.

"I ordered room service, which means that they bring food to your room." He took the tray from her, placed it on the table, then sat back down on the sofa, trying to decide if he should shut down the computer. He opted to leave it on and do a little web surfing if everyone was still asleep after he'd eaten. He realized Illyria was still looking at him and assumed she needed just a bit more explanation. "You have to sign for it, so they can add the charges for the food to the charges for your room."

"I understand. Why are you whispering?"

"The others are still sleeping, so if you're going to talk, try to talk softly."

Mena chose that moment to wake up and wandered into the sitting room. "You ordered room service without telling me?"

"Sorry, Mena, I didn't want to wake you. We'll share; you can have the pancakes, and I'll take the bacon and eggs. We can always order more if we're still hungry." He put his portion on a saucer and passed Mena the pancakes as she settled down next to him. She seemed pleased with the compromise as she dug in.

"Good morning, Illyria," she said just before she took her first bite.

"So how do you like Budapest?" Xander asked as Illyria considered the coffee carafe. "Want some coffee?"

Mena perked up. "What did you see? What did you do? Tell us everything."

Illyria put the carafe down and sat in one of the arm chairs across from them. "There is little to tell. It is a city old by human measurement, with a substantial population that is surprisingly active in the nocturnal hours."

Mena prodded further. "I can't wait to explore. It's really exciting to be in Europe; the culture is so different here."

"You mean all those trips you took with your parents never included a trip to Europe?" asked Xander.

"We went to Norway once, but otherwise, most of my father's diplomatic trips were to Asia or other African countries. Of course, I went to school in London for two years and went back for my Slayer training, but other than our one-day stop-over in Rome to meet Buffy and Dawn, I've never spent time anywhere on this continent. I'm very eager to see more of Budapest."

Mena turned to Illyria with avid interest, but she was disappointed when Illyria offered no tales about her night of exploration.

As Haley stumbled into the room, incongruously wearing sunglasses with her robe and slippers, she sniffed and then headed directly for the coffee with a groan. Then a moan came from the guys' room, indicating that Spike, too, would be joining them shortly.

"Since our obviously hung-over Brits appear to be awake now, Mena, will you get the drapes?" Xander asked. Then he called out to Spike, "The room will be safely flame-retardant in mere seconds, so all good vampires may feel free to enter."

"Not so loud, you inconsiderate git," Spike grumbled as he cautiously entered the room. As soon as he saw that Mena had barred the sunlight, he made his way to an armchair and collapsed into it.

He was wearing his silver satin lounging pants and the royal blue robe that was, as per usual, untied and gaping open. Illyria stared appreciatively at his chest, and Mena couldn't resist a peek either, but Haley studiously avoided looking in his direction.

"Late night?" Mena asked with a grin.

"To say the least," Haley replied. Taking off her sunglasses now that the room was less bright, she surveyed the group. Other than Spike, that is. "So, are we ready to continue our mission? Mena, are you well enough?"

"Yep!" Mena replied cheerily as she popped the last bit of pancake into her mouth.

"Good," Spike said, the smell of the food making his belly roll alarmingly. "We decided last night that Haley and I will go check in with the Budapest Slayer/Watcher team, while you lot start the goblet research."

"The Hungarian National Archives seemed like the best place to begin the research, right, Mena?" asked Haley. Still chewing, Mena nodded her head in agreement.

Xander was concerned that Spike and Haley would be spending even more time together, although he had noticed that they had avoided eye contact with each other since they'd been in the room. He wondered what that was all about. "Well, that would work out just fine, except for the little detail of it being broad daylight out there."

Spike seemed a little perplexed, but Haley waved her hand in dismissal. "The driver last night said that Rupert arranged for the vehicle that can transport Spike safely to be delivered to our hotel this morning."

"Oh, yeah," said Xander. "I forgot about that."

Haley stood and addressed the group. "Shall we get started then? It won't take me long to get dressed." She headed off for her room.

"I'll be ready before you are," said Spike, moving quickly out of the sitting room to select clothes for the day. "Gotta get out of range of the smell of those eggs."

"Poor, baby," teased Mena. "That'll teach you to go exploring without me. I wouldn't have let you two get so drunk."

Illyria joined in the conversation as Xander finished the last of his scrambled eggs. "I am to help with the research? That is not fitting for my station. I am a warrior. I am--"

"Yeah, yeah, we know," said Xander. "But you are part of our team, your godliness -- at least until we manage to remove that overabundance of power from your all too human body, right? Can't have you going all explodey on us."

Xander drank the last of his coffee, then rose from the sofa, coming face to face with Illyria.

"Yes, I promised to help until you have safeguarded my Fred-shell. I will honor my agreement, but be forewarned that research is not my area of expertise."

"Fair enough," he said.

"You are disconcerted, Xander. What is the cause of your discontent? I perceive that something is worrying you about Spike and Haley."

He blinked in surprise at Illyria's insight and acted swiftly to distract her. "It's nothing. Good thing we showered last night, eh, Mena? I mean, seeing as how the late-night carousers have taken over the bathrooms. Can you be ready in ten minutes?"

"Of course, Xander," Mena said cautiously, wondering what Illyria had picked up on. She hurried from the room to get dressed.

"Okay, ten minutes, then." As Illyria continued to silently study him, Xander web-surfed, wondering if maybe his message to Buffy should have been more explicit.

by Ldynwaitin

~~~~~~~~

Once they entered the Hungarian National Archives, Xander and Mena got right to work. Illyria nosed about for a little while but became bored rather quickly. She stood at a window, looking out at the city for an hour, then she sat in a chair and contemplated the impending loss of her recently regained powers.

On the one hand, Illyria reveled in the return of certain abilities, such as the opportunity to commune once more with the green, but on the other hand, she knew that her shell was incapable of housing all of her powers. It both angered and dismayed her.

Placing a huge, heavy, and very old book onto a table about two hours after Spike and Haley had dropped them off, Mena shot a slightly tired, inquiring glance at Xander. "Did you find anything useful?"

"Nothing yet." He shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Why do you waste all this time searching through ancient texts? When an avenue proves to be so obviously unsuccessful, it should be discarded, and a different tactic should be undertaken," Illyria scolded him.

She cast a disgusted look at the volumes of books piled high on the oak table in front of the Slayer and her Watcher. When no response seemed forthcoming, she moved closer to Xander and peered into his eyes as she asked, "When will this tedious task be concluded?"

"Wish I knew. You see, we're trying to find out everything we can about Dracula's Goblet in order to determine what is so magically special about it that would make it such a suitable mystical artifact for the big Equinox Offering. Not easy when you don't know what the heck you're looking for."

"You should have explained that earlier. Since I have regained my powers, my assistance may be all that is necessary."

Xander looked up at her. She was currently in her 'Fred guise'. After much debate and resistance on Illyria's part, they had convinced her that walking about in Hungary in her 'Blue goddess look' would draw too much attention.

Xander saw her hand rise up. As it hovered over the books, small blue lightning bolts began to dart from her fingertips.

"Whoa, there, partner, put your ten-shooter away!" Xander demanded. He grabbed her hand and let out a "yipe" as he felt a slight shock pass through him. Illyria tilted her head to one side and regarded him, puzzled by his interference.

He whispered to her, "I thought we agreed that you would not use your power while you're on a full tank. Remember, Spike said it's very dangerous for you to use too much juice right now. You might activate whatever triggers your blow Eastern Europe apart mode." Both Mena and Illyria raised an eyebrow, but Xander chose to continue anyway.

"Or even just a more minor blow yourself apart feature. See, we don't really want that to happen around here; we worked too hard to find these books. They'd be kinda hard to read with ex-god splattered all over them."

"I realize that is supposed to be humor, but I do not find it so. You would be wise to treat me with more respect. I am neither a scribe nor a scholar. If you cannot find the information you seek about this 'Dracula's Goblet', then let us go to his castle and lay siege to his lands. I wish to spill the blood of such a great enemy. I will vanquish his acolytes and lay claim to his empire."

"Relax, Illy," Xander said as he looked up at their impatient companion, "one thing at a time. First of all, I'm sure you'll be able to satisfy your -- umm -- bloodlust soon. Probably when we close the Hellmouth."

"That will be most satisfying. Xander, you just referred to me as 'Illy'. Did you mean that as an endearment?"

"Er, yes. Sorta. It's a nickname between friends. Like when Spike calls you 'Blue'."

"I see. All right. You both may call me 'Illy' during such moments of friendship, but you must always speak my full name, 'Illyria', when in battle or in the presence of others who are not considered allies."

"We understand, Illy", said Mena tentatively, trying out the nickname. "You see the use of your full name as a sign of respect and the nickname as a sign of friendship, right?"

"Anyway," interrupted Xander, "my second point is that we can't go to Dracula's until we find some information about the location of the goblet. We can't just search his entire castle; that could take days. And hey, maybe he even donated it to a local museum or something. We need to gather information. Even good old General Patton had a game plan."

"Xander is making sense, Illy. Do you agree?"

"Yes, Mena. I understand that his points have merit."

"If we lay siege to Dracula's land," Xander added, not realizing he was about to take things too far, "the goblet may accidentally end up getting destroyed by a certain overly zealous blue god who got a bit carried away with the whole rending of guts thing she enjoys so much."

Illyria frowned. She was not used to being chastised by anyone, let alone a human. Unfortunately, it seemed to be happening lately a lot more than she could easily accept, despite her understanding that this was the way these particular humans communicated with each other. Speaking with her in this manner meant that they considered her a part of their team.

Sometimes she felt that she desired that sense of camaraderie; at other times, she felt that such familiarity was unseemly between humans and herself. She was not used to seeing two sides of an issue. It was easier when she was a true god-king and master of all she desired because then there was only one side. Her side.

"The work would go more quickly if you were to help in our search, Illy," Mena glanced up from the book in front of her. "There are plenty of books for you--"

Illyria immediately rejected her offer. "I am a warrior! A god! I battle great armies, not books and useless words. I tire of this game of pretending to be something that I am not. Rivers of blood have flowed before me--"

"You really do enjoy that blood thing, don't you," Xander sighed. "Sorry, Illy, but if you want to hang with humans, you'll have to act more like us. That means you need to put a damper on your powers."

Illyria let out a growl of frustration. "But I am not a human. If you insist on rejecting my offers of assistance -- the kind of assistance that is fitting for a god-king -- then I will go!"

"What?" Xander attempted to stop her, but she quickly moved away.

"Clearly, my skills are of no use to you here. I wish to see more of the city. Perhaps out there, I can find another way to help you. Or, as you suggested, to learn to act more like humans." She turned to leave.

"No, wait!" he called out. His voice trailed off as he said, "Spike will kill me if he finds out I let you wander around town alone."

But there was no stopping her. In seconds, she was out of the room. He wasn't sure if he could stop her, anyway, even if he did catch up to her. His experience with gods had taught him one thing. If they want to do something, you don't get in their way unless you're sitting in the cab of a vehicle with a wrecking ball.

Sighing, Xander sat down hard on his chair. "Damn it all. Spike is gonna pitch a bunch of 'bloodys' my way when he gets back. We were supposed to keep her occupied."

"She will be all right," Mena gently assured him.

"What?" Xander mumbled.

"Don't worry, Xander. I'm sure she will be all right. She's wandered around on her own before. Just last night, in fact."

Xander returned to reading his book. "I'm not worried; at least, not so much about her. It's the citizens of Budapest I fear for, especially when she's in that cranky mood of hers."

"If you're not worried, then why are you reading the book upside down?"

He gave her a puzzled look and then realized that the book was indeed inverted. He turned his head to look back to where Illyria had walked out. He really didn't want to develop any feelings for her, and yet he found himself thinking of her a lot more often lately. That realization bothered him, and even sort of frightened him, so he forced it out of his mind.

Hoping that Illyria would be all right and would return soon, he purposefully focused his attention back on the research books, but then allowed one last thought to flit though his mind. He wondered how Spike and Haley's meeting with the Hungarian team was going. Spike always got the easy jobs.

~~~~~~~~

After dropping Mena, Xander, and Illyria off at the Hungarian National Archives, Spike and Haley drove off to meet with Sarolt, the local Slayer, and Balazs, her Watcher, at his home on the other side of the city. They needed to discuss the details concerning their part in sealing the Budapest Hellmouth and to find out more about the vampires who had performed the ritual to open it.

Sarolt's grandfather, Akos, was a taltos - a Hungarian shaman. He would be assisting Balazs with the magic required to seal the portal. Giles had also arranged for the taltos and the gifted Watcher to stabilize Illyria's power by transferring some of it into another mystical vessel, which could then be used as part of The Offering on September 22.

Spike, naturally, was very concerned for Illyria's safety as well as everyone who would be in the vicinity when the extraction was performed. He wanted to make sure that this Hungarian team was truly capable of the task, before putting Illyria through any mystical mumbo-jumbo and risking all of their lives in the process.

He realized how urgent it was to return Illyria's power to a level that her human body could contain. There had already been a few warning signs that the power was exacting great stress on Illyria, despite her joy in its return.

Their primary mission to save the existence of all magic and all magical creatures, as well as all humans who had been affected in some way by magic, was certainly also of the utmost importance. But as critical as maintaining the mystical balance of the universe was, that didn't stop him from worrying about the consequences of using powerful magic so freely. The bottom line was that he could never completely trust the use of magic of any kind.

At the moment, though, more immediate matters were worrying him, and they involved Haley. The drive to the outskirts of town where Balazs lived was painfully quiet. He and Haley had barely spoken a half dozen words to each other since last night. They hadn't managed even an awkward 'good morning' at breakfast.

Spike was fairly sure that their embarrassed attempt to avoid eye contact had more than likely caught Xander's attention, especially since the git had the nerve to remind them, "Try to get back before the wee hours of the morning this time," as he got out of the car. Mena had giggled at Xander's joke, but Haley had visibly blanched.

Ever since the others had left the vehicle, another SUV with vampire-safe windows, there had been nothing but dead silence between Spike and Haley, who seemed very occupied with closely examining all of the sights they passed.

Apparently last night's drunken revelations and spontaneous kiss had created an uncomfortable tension between them, and Spike definitely hadn't wanted that to happen. For the sake of their friendship and the ability for them to work together, he had to set things right.

"Ahem," he started, clearing his throat softly, only to find Haley joining him as they simultaneously uttered the same words:

"About last night--"

With the ice broken, they looked at each other, shook their heads and started to laugh.

"As I...uh...as we were saying," Spike continued.

Haley stopped him before he said any more. "No, Spike, please let me speak first. All right?"

He smiled amiably. "Go on, then, love. You've got the floor."

Haley gathered her emotional courage for a moment, then turned to look at him. "I had a wonderful time last night, Spike. I don't-- I don't think I've ever been so frank and at ease with a man before, at least not when expressing my feelings."

"Want you always to feel comfortable around me, pet. Seriously, feel free to speak your mind."

"Thanks, you're very kind. But I'm afraid I may have come on a bit too strong. It was extremely inappropriate, and I'm sorry. I wish I could blame it on the alcohol, but I can't. The plain and simple truth is that I'm attracted to you, but I know you're in love with Buffy. I hope we can just forget about what happened and get on with being friends."

Haley's face was bright red with embarrassment, and Spike felt badly for her. He smiled tenderly and patted her hand gently.

"Nothing to be sorry for, love. I was right there in the thick of things with you, so I'm not letting myself off that easily. Can't deny that I was sorely tempted, but I think you're right. Be best all around if we just keep things light and friendly. So, is that a deal?"

"Deal. Shall we shake on it, then?" she asked.

"What?" he huffed indignantly. "No kiss?"

Haley hauled off and punched his arm, causing him to wince in feigned discomfort and breaking them both up into fits of relieved laughter.

"You're bloody incorrigible, you know that?" she scolded.

"Got that right, pet!"

"Well, please don't ever lose that wicked sense of humor. All right?"

"Not bloody likely to; not any time soon," he winked. "It's taken me years to cultivate my razor sharp wit, snarky delivery, and perfect comic timing."

By then, they had arrived at Balazs' modest home outside the city. "Ready to meet our 'tag team'?" Spike asked.

Haley nodded as Spike parked the SUV in the shadiest spot possible which was, by a stroke of luck, quite near the front door. Then he pulled his coat up over his head to dodge any errant sunlight, and the two of them made a mad dash towards the cottage door.

Balazs had heard them drive up and greeted them immediately. He issued a quick invitation, allowing Spike to cross his threshold, and then closed the door quickly behind them. Balazs had also been considerate enough to have all of his curtains closed to ensure the vampire's safety.

Once Spike regained his composure and straightened his duster, Balazs extended his hand to the vampire in an open gesture of friendship and introduced himself. Spike was momentarily surprised, but then took the man's hand and shook it firmly.

Balazs was a solidly built man in his early 40's. He looked rugged but also kind, and he appeared to be no stranger to physical toil, if his calloused hands were any indication. When he spoke, his voice was warm yet authoritative, and the man's whole demeanor was that of an understated intellectual. He seemed far less genteel and far more genuine and down to earth than any Watcher Spike had ever met, including Rupert Giles.

Spike liked him immediately, which was highly unusual, since his first instinct was always to distrust anyone he didn't know well.

A few moments later, they were joined by the Hungarian Slayer, Sarolt, a beautiful young woman in her early 20's. Sarolt had been very eager to meet the legendary vampire with a soul. Neither she nor her Watcher had ever dreamed they would be joining forces with a vampire, their archenemy, but they had heard the reports from the Watchers' Council concerning Spike, and they were very intrigued.

Due to her upbringing in the household of her grandfather, Sarolt had been a bit skeptical at first. But once she had spent time in London for some Slayer training and seminars, and had heard firsthand reports from Vi and Rona about the remarkable vampire, she had opened her mind to the belief that this vampire was special and had truly redeemed himself.

The Slayers who had been in Sunnydale explained how Spike had loved a Slayer, had fought to regain his soul, and then had given his life to close the Sunnydale Hellmouth. Sarolt had decided he must have been unique indeed. Then word spread that he had somehow been resurrected and involved in another battle against evil in L.A. She certainly never expected to meet him, yet here he was, standing in her Watcher's parlor.

"Welcome to Budapest," she said with a big smile. "I am Sarolt. I am very happy to meet both of you."

They all exchanged a few further pleasantries, Spike noting the firmness of Sarolt's handshake. He also recognized the usual well-trained Slayer's strength and grace, and he reckoned that she might be very helpful and dependable in a fight. Just as Balazs began to indicate the sofa and chairs where they could sit to talk, an older man entered the room.

Spike and Haley had enjoyed the warm welcome they had received from Balazs and Sarolt. They assumed they'd receive the same from Sarolt's grandfather, Akos, the taltos. However, his welcome turned out to be far from cordial.

by nmcil

The old man was mildly pleasant with Haley but also appeared to be somewhat suspicious of her. He made no attempt whatsoever to disguise his contempt for and distrust of Spike when they were introduced. When Spike extended his hand, Akos quickly looked away and took a seat as far across the room from him as possible.

Sarolt caught her grandfather's eye and made her displeasure at his behavior known with a soft, disappointed sigh and a slight shake of her head.

Embarrassed, Balazs said, "Please, Haley and Spike, make yourselves comfortable. I am going to step into the kitchen for just a moment, so that I can bring out some tea and sandwiches and a platter of cakes that Sarolt baked especially for you."

"The cake is from a recipe of my grandmother's," said Sarolt, "but I'm afraid I have none of her skills. Please don't feel obligated to eat it if you don't like it. I assure you I won't be offended. My grandfather loves me so much that he will pretend it is wonderful, but I have seen him hide my pastries under his napkin." She laughed genuinely, and Haley joined her in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I'm not much of a cook, myself," offered Haley, "and I'd never even attempt to bake. Why, this looks quite lovely," she added when Balazs returned with the food.

By the time they had finished their cake and were on their second cups of tea, Balazs and Sarolt began describing the events in the Hellmouth and the vampires they had found there. Akos had yet to speak another word, but he watched them very carefully as they talked, while he contemplated the highly questionable situation his granddaughter was in with these entirely unsuitable and unlikely allies. If they could truthfully be considered such.

Akos had very firmly told Sarolt and Balazs that he was against treating Spike as an ally, regardless of the Council's assurance that the vampire was indeed fighting on the side of good. His own granddaughter had reminded him that Spike had given his life to save the world and the people he loved, but the old man was not convinced. Nor did he put much stock in the fact that Spike had a soul.

Throughout his long life, Akos had seen too much evil in the world, and vampires had been responsible for a great deal of it. To him, they were an abomination. Ruthless predators. And the very notion of a vampire winning back his soul and fighting the good fight was totally absurd. That would go against everything he had ever held true about these creatures.

by nmcil

He, too, was aware of the Council's reports, and while he could not disprove them, he steadfastly refused to accept them. As the shaman coldly scrutinized Spike, he began to feel uneasy. This vampire radiated a very unexpected aura. Akos could sense a difference in this creature of the night, and perhaps it truly was his soul. But he also sensed something else.

Akos could feel the presence of a spirit guide and the power of a beast within. But that beast was not the demon of a typical vampire. It was a great predator spirit that was both noble and fierce -- the spirit of the wolf. This revelation only added to Akos' confusion.

Throughout history, the wolf had been both feared and revered, and in his culture, the animal was often linked to vampires. Yet this particular wolf spirit generated only positive energy. Very powerful but distinctly honorable. Trustworthy. And that made no sense whatsoever to the taltos.

Despite the fact that Akos sensed no malice from Spike's spirit guide, he still refused to let his guard down. As far as he was concerned, this so-called vampire with a soul would have to earn his respect by deed, not by reputation. Akos wasn't about to put his faith in secondhand stories nor even trust his own taltos instincts.

Spike would have to prove himself in action. Until then, his every move and utterance were suspect. And the very idea of Illyria's existence was more than Akos could fathom at the moment, so he reserved judgment on that issue until he saw her for himself. But if his taltos skills were needed to transfer power from a former god-king into a vessel where it could be stored, then he would do it in order to safeguard all the magic in the world.

Reluctantly, the shaman had agreed with his granddaughter and her Watcher, just prior to Spike and Haley's arrival, that the vampire's preternatural strength was needed to protect the humans during the ritual to seal the Hellmouth. It had been obvious to Sarolt and Balazs that Akos was not happy with his concession. And it was absolutely clear to everyone in Balazs' parlor that Akos was both angry and apprehensive.

As their discussion continued, and Akos remained totally silent and so very obviously suspicious, Haley became more and more upset by Akos' animosity towards Spike. She understood, however, that there was very little they could do to change the beliefs that an old man had held as truth throughout his life.

Haley also knew that Balazs and Sarolt desperately needed their help to seal the Hellmouth. Conversely, Spike's team needed the shaman to help Illyria. Unfortunately, then, it was a stalemate. They didn't have to like each other; they just had to work together.

The next hour was spent going over the plans for their joint mission. The Hellmouth was located in the catacombs beneath the castle in the Old City section of Budapest. Sarolt and Balazs were confident they had been successful in temporarily securing the fissure, but had no idea how long it would hold, and no way of knowing how many or what type of monsters they were likely to face if it opened wider.

The very best they could hope for was that only a minimum of evil energy had escaped through the crack, so their task was simply a matter of performing the ritual and sealing the Hellmouth permanently. Since they had never dealt with a disturbance of this magnitude, they felt it was wise to have a backup plan and reinforcements, just in case.

They were also unsure which master vampire had sent his or her minions to open the Hellmouth, and if they would try again. For these reasons, they had petitioned the Council for help. It was imperative that the Hellmouth-closing ritual be performed without delay.

Finally, Akos broke his silence and explained, "The ritual requires tapping into human essences as a power source, which is how your associate, Xander Harris, and you, Haley, will be involved. Anyone directly participating in the proceedings will be rendered immobile and vulnerable until the spell is completed."

"This includes both Akos and myself, as well," added Balazs. "If more vampires or any other demons show up and interfere, then Sarolt, Spike, Illyria and your other Slayer, Mena, must repel them before they draw near enough to disturb the rite."

"Once the ritual begins," declared Akos, "any disruption of the magic could allow the portal to open, and utter chaos would ensue. A Slayer's natural powers," he told them, "make her resistant to the hypnotic pull of the spell. The Slayers' essences are concentrated on the fight, so they are our first line of defense."

The shaman then looked directly at Spike. "You, Vampire, and the Old One, are our second front. Should the Slayers fail, it then falls upon you to protect the humans and ensure the completion of the ritual. Is this understood? Can you actually be trusted to follow through?"

Akos' unjustified, instinctive hatred was making everyone in the room extremely uncomfortable, but Spike maintained his cool and answered him levelly.

"Right! Got it, mate. Her godliness and I are the 'Second String'. The muscle. Whatever works for you, I'm in! Now, what about your part of the bargain? Can you be trusted to follow through?"

Akos bristled and started to answer, but Balazs quickly interrupted. "I assure you, Spike, that once we successfully seal the Hellmouth, we will make good on our promise concerning Illyria."

"Just to be clear, then, Watcher, the objective is to save Blue, right? Not to hurt her. And you are to leave her with as much of her power as she can safely contain within the human body in which she resides. Sometimes Rupert is a little lax in providing all the important little details."

Balazs smiled reassuringly. "The procedure is very delicate and difficult, and we have never attempted anything exactly like this before, but we are confident we can do it. I assure you we will do everything we can to extract and contain only the excessive power with minimal risk to the Old One. Is this not so, Akos?"

"You have my word," the taltos replied curtly.

Spike stared directly at Akos. "That's good enough for me, then." After what seemed a long moment, the shaman looked away, and Spike turned back to Balazs and Sarolt. "Looks like our business has concluded. We'll leave you to your preparations, then. We'll go round up our weapons and be ready when you are."

He and Haley rose and headed for the door, with Balazs and Sarolt following behind. Akos made no move to join them, and Spike could feel the old man's burning gaze on his back. Balazs told Haley to call him the next day and make sure that all was ready to perform the ritual that same night.

As they opened the door to leave, Sarolt laid her hand on Spike's arm. "Please forgive my grandfather's rudeness, Spike. He still clings to the old ways, the old beliefs. But I promise you he is committed to the mission and will set aside his personal prejudices to make sure we succeed. Your ultimate goal to preserve magic throughout the world means a great deal to him."

"Fair enough, pet. I understand. It is all about the mission, after all. Till tomorrow night, then."

When they got back into the SUV, Spike sighed softly, and Haley was sure she detected a hint of sadness. "Well, could've been worse. Overall, guess things went all right in there," he said.

"Surely, you're joking," she scoffed angrily. "That man's reaction to you was positively frigid and totally uncalled for."

"Was a bit icy, wasn't it? You know, I rarely notice the cold, being cold-blooded myself, but that wanker chilled me clean down to my bones."

Haley hesitated a minute, then decided she had to cheer him up. "Oh, I don't know about you being so cold, Spike," she grinned. "You actually felt quite warm to me last night, if I remember correctly."

That did bring the devilish smile back to his face. "Thanks, love, but not everyone's as accepting of me as you are. Can't really say as I blame the old geezer. I'm sure he's got his reasons for hating my kind."

"Maybe he'll come around in time," she offered.

"Perhaps he won't have to. Hopefully, we'll seal the Hellmouth, power down Blue, and be on our way. Speaking of which, we'd better be getting back to the Archives. There's still a lot of work to do before we pay a visit to your favorite Count, and I'll wager Xander thinks we're out somewhere, having fun and wasting time. After that snarky comment he made this morning, I imagine he's already got them 'leaving the porch lights on' for us."

Spike turned and winked at Haley. "Besides, with Mena drowning him in research, and Illyria trying to convince him to give her orgasms, I'm sure he's probably long overdue for a break."

Haley hated to admit it, but the image of Xander sandwiched between two women -- one boring him to death with knowledge and the other wanting to shag him senseless -- was strangely satisfying to her. Keeping that picture firmly planted in her mind, she laughed and agreed with Spike as they drove on through the countryside and back into the city.

~~~~~~~~

Illyria hadn't known exactly where she was heading when she left the Archives; she simply allowed herself to be led by her instincts. Finally, she ended up on Váci Street. She recalled hearing a man at the hotel say it was the chief shopping center of Budapest. As she strolled down the street, she saw many gift and fashion shops sprinkled along the way. The city seemed so full of life.

Tourists were admiring the goods of the merchants, who were kindly inviting them to take a better look at their wares or the souvenirs they were selling. Books, albums, embroidered tablecloths, Hungarian folk costumes, postcards, statues and many more novelties were all competing for the attention of foreign visitors.

Illyria couldn't hide her curiosity in the objects and in the people. She had become more and more interested in the human world and its customs -- partly because of Xander and Spike. They intrigued her more than Mena and Haley did, but the two women were also beginning to play a part in the emotions she was determined to more fully understand. All four of them were beginning to matter to Illyria more and more.

Inspired by the influence of her new teammates, she found herself eager to explore this world that was so different from her own. Stepping closer to one of the booths, she regarded the huge variety of souvenirs in front of her. She soon felt inexplicably compelled to use some of the Euros Haley had given her to buy a postcard with a beautiful picture of the city. Then she purchased a wonderfully wrought Hungarian pocketknife.

It might prove useful later, she thought with a contented smile as she glanced at the knife's shining blade. Walking further down the street, she began to enjoy both the calm and the joy that surrounded her.

Laughing people walked past her. She was warmed by the cheerful flow of humanity. A feeling of infectious well-being began to affect her lips, urging them to curve into a happy smile. This was definitely something she had never experienced before, but she enjoyed it enough to want to experience more.

Is this how it feels to be a human and not a god? she asked herself. Is this what the others feel, too -- Spike and Xander?

The sensation was both exciting and bewitching. Illyria, the god-king who had thought there could never be anything more exhilarating than destroying her enemy, was now actually enjoying these feelings of contentment that washed over her.

Eventually, she arrived at a square, which seemed to be one of the busiest centers of the Inner City. In the middle of the square stood a statue of a great Hungarian poet from the nineteenth century. She learned this by reading a plaque set at its base. Unlike her comrades who did not know the Hungarian language, Illyria enjoyed a sort of built-in univeral translator -- a gift that came with being a god.

Scanning the crowded square, she spied a large fashion store, several travel offices, some antique shops and an old pastry shop. As she watched the people eating tiny cakes and ice cream, while they sat on the terrace of the confectionery shop called Gerbeaud, she began to wonder what some of those sweets tasted like. Soon Illyria was nestled comfortably at a table, devouring a huge portion of ice cream.

After finishing her delicious snack, she resumed her odyssey into the human world. Directly before her was City Park. Walking through the quiet park, she saw a small group of men gathered around a table made of stone, studying something intently.

She cautiously tiptoed closer and glanced at the table. What she saw was a board with black and white squares upon which were placed some intricately carved figures. She tilted her head as she watched the two men sit face to face at the table and move the figures across the squares.

"Good day, beautiful lady", --one of the men standing around called to her with a broad smile. "Do not be afraid. Come! Enjoy! Anyone may watch the champions of the park as they play."

Tentatively, Illyria stepped closer, her gaze still set on the board. "What are they doing?" she inquired in a hushed whisper of the middle-aged man who had invited her to watch.

The man smiled knowingly. "Ah. Apparently, you do not know the game of chess, do you?"

Illyria shook her head; she truly wanted to understand what it was that the men were engaged in with the little figures. It appeared to her as if it were a small battlefield.

"Please, pretty lady. Stay and learn," the man implored her. He smiled again and introduced her to the world of chess.

As time went by, Illyria realized that her first assessment had been correct. This game that the man called 'chess' was a battle fought between two foes. As she began to understand the intricacies of the game, she gained respect for these men who gathered in the park almost every day, trying to capture their foe's king.

It was some time later when she said her goodbyes to the men and strolled to the artificial lake at the entrance of the park. She sat down and watched the ducks, finding it soothing to let her eyes idly follow the small creatures swimming in the water.

Several children ran past her, laughing and playing. Her attention was soon focused on a young girl with another small creature. She recognized this one as the immature form of the animals called canines, that she had seen in Houston. It was a tiny, floppy-eared puppy.

Glancing to her right, she noticed an old woman sitting on a bench. She was throwing little pieces of bread to the ducks in the water. Illyria kept her gaze on the birds, amused by their funny movements as they battled with each other for the free food.

Hearing music, Illyria's attention moved to the far side of the park. She noticed several small, colorful tents. She couldn't resist the urge to go and investigate them. That was when she first noticed the building with a sign that read 'The Circus'. Spike and Xander had said there was also a circus in Houston when they were there. It seemed humans were much the same, no matter which country they resided in nor which language they spoke.

She was tempted to go inside the building, but a strangely dressed woman caught her notice. The woman was in her late fifties. She had brown hair with silver strands laced through it. Hidden under a silky, flower-patterned shawl was a grayish-blue silk blouse worn above a heavy, long skirt with big, crimson rose patterns, covered by a light green apron.

"Hello, my dear child," the gypsy woman greeted her with a broad smile. "Come closer. Do not be afraid. I assure you I do not bite."

Hesitantly, Illyria moved toward her.

"You are not from this country, are you?" the woman asked.

"Is it so obvious?" Illyria wondered aloud.

"Maybe it isn't for anyone else, but for me--" The woman left her sentence unfinished and smiled warmly.

Illyria's eyes narrowed, and she gave the woman a suspicious look.

"I could tell even more about you," the gypsy remarked mysteriously. "That is, if you wish."

"What is your true purpose?" Illyria felt uneasy being near this woman. She did not sense any actual threat emanating from her, but wondered if perhaps she bore a hidden power.

"I see more than other people do, my dear. I see past, present and future. I can see your future."

Assuming that the woman was a charlatan, Illyria began to walk away.

"Wait, my dear!" the gypsy called out. "You might think I am merely tricking you, but--" the gypsy faltered. "I do not know what to say to convince you, yet I swear to you that I can see your future, if you wish."

"I warn you," Illyria scoffed. "I am not one who likes to be fooled."

"I can see that is true; however, what could you lose but a few coins?" The gypsy fixed her gaze on Illyria. "Ah, I sense that you are troubled by the impending loss of something that you hold dear. But it is also something that could cost you dearly were you to hold onto it."

Illyria was startled at the gypsy's insight and pondered whether she should allow the woman to try her magic on her. Perhaps the gypsy was truly a seer. Nodding her head, Illyria agreed.

With a sigh of satisfaction, the gypsy invited her to enter the tent. Illyria followed her in. The tent was small and very dark, but inside she could see a wooden table and two chairs. On the table was a small blue pillow. At its center sat a silver dragon, with a large, clear crystal ball nestled on its back.

Behind the gypsy hung a tapestry with an embroidered star symbol. This was something that Illyria found familiar as the stars were often used in spells.

The gypsy motioned Illyria to sit. As she sat down, the gypsy took off her shawl and draped it over the back of her chair. She grinned mysteriously at Illyria.

"Let me see your palm, my dear."

Illyria brought out both hands. The gypsy first took her right hand. She studied her palm carefully. "Yes, my dear. I must first say that you have the longest lifeline I have ever seen. In fact--" The gypsy was shocked to see the line running up Illyria's arm and decided to talk about something else.

"Now, this is the hand of your past. I see pain and hardship. Your life seems to have changed much lately. A change that you have resisted." A small frown creased her face. "There is too much to read of your past. Let me gaze into your future instead."

She took Illyria's left hand. As she studied the creases in Illyria's palm, the gypsy's face suddenly drained of color. She dropped Illyria's hand and sat back in the chair.

"Power," she gasped. "So much power held in such a weak vessel."

"Yes!" Illyria hissed. "What else do you see, soothsayer? I wish to know what my future holds in this primitive world." She grabbed the gypsy's hands.

The woman tried to pull away, but Illyria was too strong. Closing her eyes, the gypsy let out a moan. She felt a hidden gift awaken; it screamed to life, thanks to Illyria's power pouring into the hapless woman.

As Illyria released her grip, she saw the gypsy's eyes roll back. Moving forward, her hands fell to either side of the crystal ball that sat upon the silver dragon's back. Her head moved forward, then back. She let out a wail as she fell into a trance.

"I see enormous power," she said in a strained, raspy voice. "It is a power that proves to be too strong for you. It is dangerous to try to contain an ocean within a small pitcher. It will not stay there long before the vessel cracks and breaks. This is a power that may bring about your own destruction."

"Yes. You may continue, seer." Illyria glared at her.

The gypsy's hands dug deeply into the wooden table. Illyria was shocked as she saw her own face appear within the crystal ball. It was a horrific scene that she had unsuccessfully tried to drive from her memories for months.

by Ldynwaitin

She was standing in the room at Wolfram and Hart where Spike had tested her fighting prowess. She saw her face crack open as beams of light fought to escape from her delicate husk. In seconds, she saw her body explode into a cascade of sparks and light.

"Power you had, and power you crave. But no longer can your receptacle contain it. The world you once held in your hands no longer exists. If you pursue the path you now walk upon, I see only death and destruction. Not only for yourself, but also for those around you. Those whom you care for."

"I care for no one, woman," Illyria quickly snapped back.

"Lies now find their way to your lips, yet your heart knows the truth. You may struggle to convince your mind that you hate humans, but it is for a human and a half-breed that your heart has tried to break through your lies."

"No! Enough!" Illyria cried out. "I wish to end this now."

The gypsy let out a sharp scream. She fell back in her chair. She slowly opened her eyes, and her head jerked around as she searched the tent. She had heard someone scream -- had it been herself?

"What do I owe you for your services?" she heard Illyria ask her. The gypsy was confused. She thought they had only just entered the tent.

"Here." Illyria threw twenty Euros on the table. "Spend it wisely, soothsayer, for this may be the last day you will enjoy life."

"What do you mean?" the gypsy asked her fearfully.

Illyria stood up and slowly walked to the small opening in the tent. Pausing, she told the gypsy woman, "I have given you the gift that you have so long craved. But beware, for a gift can easily turn into a curse."

As Illyria left, the gypsy felt a river of fire flow through her head. She recalled what her great grandmother had told her about 'the gift'. Her grandmother had been born with a rare and powerful ability to predict the future, but she, herself, had never been capable of anything beyond deep and well-honed insight into human nature coupled with a very small gift of sight. She had never had the intense visions of the future her grandmother had seen.

The fire inside burned hotter. What was happening to her? What had that woman done to her?

Suddenly, the gypsy saw a vision of the strange woman who had just departed her tent. That is, it was her, and yet not her. The woman in her vision had hair streaked with blue. She was dressed in red leather battle armor; around her, unspeakable horrors fought. Shaking her head, the gypsy whispered, "May God help us all."

~~~~~~~~

Spike bowed his head and motioned to Haley to walk though the open doors to the Archives ahead of him.

"So, chivalry is not dead," she said as she daintily moved through the doorway.

"More like undead," Spike corrected her with a smirk.

They walked into a dimly lit room. One of the men near the entrance to the building had informed them where they would likely find Xander. Spike saw him walking down an aisle carrying a small book. Mena was struggling to carry a book that was nearly as big she was.

"Looks about right," Spike said. "The Slayer is always doing the heavy work."

"Well, this book has bigger words," Xander joked in defense.

Spike immediately noticed that someone was missing. "Where's Blue?"

"Not sure," Mena admitted. "We haven't seen her since just before noon."

"I was going to mention that," Xander said. "Since we arrived, all she's done is go sight-seeing. I've known two she-gods, and all they seem to do is stomp around saying how powerful they are, while others do all the work."

"Don't worry, Harris. When the time comes, she'll pull her weight and then some."

"Ooh! He called you 'Harris' again. You must be in trouble, Xander," teased Mena.

"Damn right, he's in trouble! You both are. You were supposed to keep an eye on her today. You know bloody well that we need to watch for signs that her powers are beginning to traumatize her body. Don't want her cracking open and taking out half of sodding Europe, including us!"

"I know that, Spike. But we're not really equipped to keep her godliness from leaving when she wants to go. We tried to talk her into staying with us, but she got her nose out of joint about something and took off."

"Xander's right, Spike," said Mena, in defense of her Watcher. "The fox is still wild, you know, even if we're making some headway. Before she left, she told us we could call her Illy when we're in private settings. That's a very friendly gesture, don't you think?"

Spike sighed. "Yeah, pet. I know she's hard to corral. Good on you for breaking down more of her barriers, though. Can't picture the Illyria I first met in L.A. ever allowing anyone to call her Illy. Between whatever influence Fred and Wes are managing to achieve from the great beyond, and the inroads we're making, our Blue really is beginning to care about us, and that's gotta make a difference in the long run. It's just that until we get some of her powers siphoned off, she's like a bloody timebomb."

"Since there's nothing we can do about that at the moment, let's focus on the research, shall we? Did you find anything?" Haley asked anxiously. She was disappointed that she had not been there with Xander and Mena and was eager to hear of any discoveries. After all, research was her specialty.

Mena let out a grunt as she hefted her book onto a small table. She softly moaned as she massaged her aching back. "I thought slaying was hard."

"Ah, a librarian's life is that of an unsung hero," Haley said.

"Oh, that's from The Mummy film," Mena said with a giggle. "I loved the actress in that film because she played her character as both intelligent and brave. What is her name?"

"Sorry, I don't remember," Haley said. "But I thought she was a bit plain-looking."

"I thought she was hot!" Xander said.

"Speaking of hot, did you find any information?" Spike said.

Xander's eyes frowned in confusion. "We found a few things about the Ma...I mean, Dracula's Goblet, but what does that have to do with hot?"

A wicked smile curved Spike's lips. "If we don't find the information we need soon, we'll have to face Rupert's fiery wrath. I've seen what he's capable of when enraged. Remember, I saw him go after Angelus with a flaming club and chase after Buffy's bloody psychology professor, who was, may I add, a sodding disciple of Mengele, at the college back in Sunnydale. Not a pretty sight."

"Yeah, but he was a Fyarl demon at the time he chased Professor Walsh, thanks to Ethan--." Xander suddenly stopped, when he realized he was talking about Haley's uncle again.

"Don't worry," she assured him. "My uncle has always been the black sheep in the family. I am well aware of his past indiscretions. I assure you that any talk of him will not embarrass me in the least, although I would prefer that you not speak of him often."

"So!" Haley continued and very skillfully switched the topic back to the matter of importance. She rubbed her hands in anticipation. "What exactly did you find?"

Placing his small book on top of Mena's large tome, Xander walked over to a large table. Haley's face glowed in admiration and envy. She saw the table stacked high with many old books. Apparently, Xander and Mena had been quite busy researching Dracula's Goblet.

Xander picked up a dark brown book and began to thumb through the pages. "We found a reference to a golden goblet that, and I quote, 'Dracula prizes'."

Wetting his thumb, Xander quickly searched through the pages to find a particular paragraph that he thought would interest the others. As he continued to search, Spike's eyes suddenly lit up. He moved closer to Xander.

"That's not an ordinary book, mate." Taking it from Xander's hands, he brought it to his nose and sniffed deeply. For a split second, his face morphed into his vampire visage. He quickly shook his head and switched back to his human face, then glanced around to make sure no one in the room had noticed the change.

"Sorry," he mumbled. He handed the book back to Xander. "It's as I thought; that book is covered in human skin."

"Ewww!" Xander gasped. He threw the book on the table. He spit on his thumb and dragged it over his shirt as if it were on fire.

"Oh, Xander, don't be such a big girl's blouse," Haley scolded him.

Mena let out a small laugh, watching her Watcher struggle to wipe all traces of the offensive book from his hands.

Haley quickly perused the book. It didn't take her long to find what Xander had been planning to show them. "It says here that Dracula prized a golden, jewel-encrusted goblet. During his reign as Vlad the Impaler, he had the goblet displayed as a testament to his exacting rule." Haley silently read more of the text. She suddenly let out a small growl.

"Something is missing; pertinent pages have been torn out."

She showed them the open book. In its center, they could see remnants of torn paper left in the spine. Haley searched the room. She saw a blond-haired man returning books onto the shelves. Snapping the book closed, she stormed towards him.

"What's wrong with her?" Spike asked.

"To a researcher, the greatest sin is to desecrate a book," Mena explained. Spike realized that Mena was right. He was constantly surprised at how knowledgeable and mature this young woman from Kenya was. But then, that was the lot of being a Slayer. They grew up fast and died young.

"Excuse me, sir," Haley called out.

The blond-haired man looked up and saw a distraught young woman rushing towards him, carrying one of their oldest books.

"Victor," the man said as Haley reached him. "My name is Victor." His voice was soft, and his words flowed like honey.

"Sorry, Victor," she stared earnestly into his eyes. "I am Haley Rayne, and I am here to protest the rape of one of your books." She opened the book and showed him where the pages were torn out.

Victor gazed at the book. It was then that Haley noticed how handsome the man was. His deep blue eyes were very mysterious. There seemed to be something secretive within them; however, she couldn't quite put her thumb on why he both intrigued and disturbed her. As she was about to delve deeper into the puzzled feeling, she was pleased to see his equal shock at her findings.

by Ldynwaitin

"I'm sorry, Ms. Rayne," Victor crisply said. "But then, of course, some of the books here are well over two hundred years old. Ancient censorship is something over which modern man has no control."

Haley saw his face soften in apology. He moved a lock of blond hair behind his ear. "And I also wish to say, I have long admired your work in archaeological and mystical research."

"Oh," Haley softly replied. "You know my work?"

"Why, yes. I've read many of your studies. They are always precise and exhaustively researched."

"Why, thank you." Haley stood a bit taller. She didn't meet many men who admired her work. Most were highly critical.

"Bloody wanker," Spike whispered to Xander. "Oldest trick in the book to get a date."

Xander looked at Spike, then said, "And you care because--?"

It was at that moment that Victor seemed to notice that Haley was not alone. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? I am Victor."

"So you said," Spike replied. He noticed Victor gave him a double-look. It was a look that warned him Victor had seen him somewhere before.

"And you are?" Victor asked.

"Getting tired of this conversation."

"Be nice, Spike," Haley said.

"Spike," Victor silently mouthed. Spike noticed a look this time that confused him. For all appearances, it was a look of envy.

Feeling left out, Xander stepped up to Victor. "Hi, I'm Xander and this is Mena."

Mena gave Victor a small smile, then felt a sudden chill as he shook her hand. An alarm rang loudly deep inside. It was not the bell that rang when she was near a vampire, but there was definitely a small buzz warning her that this was a man to be careful around.

"Hello, Mena. I am pleased to meet you. We do not see many young ladies as pretty as yourself inside these dusty old archives."

"I'm training her in research and techniques," Haley quickly lied.

When Xander reached out his hand to shake Victor's, he noticed a look of disgust cross Victor's face. The snooty librarian blatantly rejected Xander's hand of friendship.

Xander expected to be angry, but he was puzzled to feel more of
an inexplicable kinship with the man rather than anger. He couldn't imagine what they could possibly have in common to trigger a sense of kinship, so he shrugged it off and allowed annoyance to take over instead. Xander often secretly enjoyed feeling just a bit disgruntled. He thought it gave him his edge.

Gazing back at the stack of books, Haley realized that they would need more time for researching Dracula's Goblet. The archives would close soon. Hoping to buy them more time, she stepped closer to Victor.

"If you so admire my work, then perhaps you will see fit to allow us more time this evening for our research?"

"That's it, girl, work it," Xander quietly said.

Spike crossed his arms in displeasure and sat on one of the many wooden tables scattered around the room. He certainly didn't mind seeing Haley flirt; it was just the man that she was flirting with. There was something off about Victor. Something decidedly dodgy. He vowed to keep an eye out for him while they were in Budapest.

Victor glanced back to where Spike was sitting. His eyes glazed over, as if contemplating something. Returning his attention back to Haley, he nodded his head in affirmation. "For a fellow researcher of your caliber, our hours may be extended. You may stay as long as you wish."

"Thank you," Haley gushed. She stretched up and gave him a small peck on the cheek.

Touching his cheek where her lips had kissed, Victor gently replied, "You're very welcome. Now if you'll excuse me, I have something that needs my attention."

Bowing slightly and quickly before the two women, he spun on his heels and rushed out of the room.

Xander slowly clapped his hands. "That was beautiful, Haley. You worked that guy over like a masseuse; I don't think he knows what hit him."

"Anything for research," Haley gave as explanation for her actions. Normally, she was loathe to use flirtation merely to obtain something that she wanted, but this instance seemed justified as had Illyria's attempt in Houston to distract Red Sovaine. Besides, men flirted for own purposes, too. So if flirting helped to get what they needed for their artifact quest, then she would gladly do it again, especially with someone as handsome as Victor.

"Now, let's go," Haley encouraged her team. "We need to find out exactly what that goblet looks like and why it is so mystically special."

Victor lingered in the doorway to his office. He appraised the small group as they made their way back to a table to continue their research. His eyes bored into the platinum-haired vampire. He knew exactly what and who Spike was. He had read many stories about William the Bloody. When he had actually met Spike, in person, just a few moments ago, he had to force himself to restrain his enthusiasm.

by nmcil

Although they were unaware of it, Victor had noticed Spike and Haley when they first arrived. Observing Spike's brief transformation when he had touched the skin-covered book, Victor had nearly jumped out of his own skin!

Taking out his cell phone, he placed an important call. "I wish to speak to the Master," he told the man who had picked up the phone. As he waited, his eyes squinted in an attempt to estimate the vampire's strength of purpose.

Failing, he let out a tired sigh and entered his office. Taking out a small bottle from a refrigerator, he poured some of its contents into a glass goblet. Replacing the bottle back into the refrigerator, he sat down and slowly sipped the red liquid from the goblet.

He savored the thick, coppery fluid as it coated his tongue. Tilting his head back, he allowed it to slowly flow down his throat. He imagined it to be the blood of his first victim rather than blood purchased on the black market. Soon, he thought. Soon I will know what it is like to give the kiss of death. Soon I will gain the immortality that my master has promised me.

Suddenly sitting up, he responded to his master's voice. "Master," he hissed. "I have good news. Taking this lowly position at the Archives is finally proving to be worthwhile. I have nearly found all of the scrolls we need for the resurrection spell."

"Nearly? I told you not to call me again unless it was with good news," his master growled through the cell phone.

Gulping down a large amount of the blood in the goblet, Victor said, "But, Master, I do have good news for you. He is here."

"Who is there?" Dracula asked.

Taking another gulp from the goblet, Victor walked back to the doorway. He stared obsessively at the vampire with a soul.

"The one you told me to watch for, Master. He is here!" Victor held his breath, waiting for his master's response and was very excited to hear how pleased his master's voice sounded in reply.

"Spike!"

~~~~~~~~
End of Part 1 of Gypsies, Vamps & Thieves.
To read Part 2, return to this site on Tuesday, October 4.

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Gypsies, Vamps and Thieves Page1, 2

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by Ldynwaitin

Will they re-seal the Hellmouth without too much trouble from Dracula's 75 vampire soldiers and 5 human generals? Yikes! What will happen when they try to extract some of Illyria's power via magical means? Just what all does Dracula have in mind for Spike? Are there any actual love connections on the horizon for any of our heroes? And exactly who is this "she" that Dracula is so all fired up about raising from the dead?

To find out, return to this site on Tuesday, October 4 for the exciting conclusion of Gypsies, Vamps & Thieves.

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Coming soon, Hearts of Darkness

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