Fury's Fire

With a kick to the head, Iolaus dispatched yet another one of the mercenaries with ease. Whirling around quickly he glanced at the towering figure of his friend in the early evening gloom, relieved that he was all right.

Senses pricking the hunter turned his attention back to the few remaining thugs who were even now advancing, weapons drawn. Rushing forward brazenly and closing the distance between them Iolaus let out a war cry noting how the four men hesitated at his show of rage. Grinning wildly the warrior leveled one of the men with a single punch then reaching back almost instinctively and halted the deadly downward blow of the man behind him. Shifting his weight Iolaus threw the man over his broad muscular shoulder, flipping the unsavory character at his two remaining friends. With an odd thunk the three armored bodies hit the ground which oddly vibrated and shifted beneath the hunter's feet. Eyes wide Iolaus had no time to even draw in another breath before the earth gave way beneath him and he plummeted down into darkness.

The demigod Hercules felt the groaning of the ground and looked up, eyes wildly searching the darkness for his friend, trying to figure out what was going on. With practical ease, and completely oblivious he slammed the two remaining mercenaries heads together with a resounding bang, leaving them to lie moaning without a backward glance.

"Iolaus!?" Hercules cried out in the darkness. "Iolaus where are you?! Answer me!"

He seemed to be falling forever, dirt and roots, pebbles and rocks streaking by him, striking him and then falling with him. He blinked his eyes but the darkness seemed to go on and on extending straight into his mind where it tightened and fractured his consciousness into a million shattering bloodstained pieces that joined him in his endless free fall.

Hercules stumbled upon the depressed pit in the forest grove nearly falling in himself, barely regaining his balance in time.

"Iolaus! Iolaus are you all right? Iolaus! Answer me!" The demigod called searching desperately for some sign of his vibrant friend. No sound, no reply greeted him save his own mournful echo.

Caring not a thing for the possible danger, Hercules quickly grasped onto one of the tree roots exposed by the sinking and after testing its weight held on tight and dove in after his friend. Dropping down through the darkness he still kept his eyes open trying to see some glimpse of his partner.

With a suddenness that surprised him the root rebounded slightly and he realized rationally hanging there that this was as deep as he dared go. But the realization meant nothing to him in face of his missing friend and without another thought he let go . . .

. . .only to land with a surprised bounce on steady ground only a few feet lower. Reaching out in the darkness his hand brushed against something metal which with a clatter fell to the floor.

Pulling back slightly, unsure of what had happened Hercules queried the darkness once again. "Iolaus?"

The reply he received was not what he had expected. Light slowly permeated the veil of black and surprised he looked up to see that the clouds had retreated from the distant night sky so far above letting the silver moonlight filter down into the depths of Gaia. Giving silent thanks to Artemis and Serena, the demigod once again looked around and saw the still forms lying on the ground. Rushing over to the first one, who's neck was oddly disjointed, he realized with a relieved sigh that it was one of the mercenaries. The next three bodies he found were in the similar condition and he prayed with all his might, to some higher power (he didn't even bother with the Olympian gods anymore) that his friend was all right. Turning around he caught sight of an achingly familiar sight.

"Iolaus!" Hurrying over he gently reached out to touch the still form letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding at the sight of a slight mist rising from the hunter's breath. He was alive! Kneeling quickly Hercules felt warmth wetness seep through his pants. In horror he reached out to touch the floor to find it stained with blood.

"No . . ." the son of Zeus breathed in denial. Ever so gently he turned over the still blond form looking anxiously for the wound that even now poured his friend's lifeblood out onto the unforgiving earth. It was difficult to see in the moonlight, Iolaus' whole body seemed stained with it, dirt caked as well. But to his relief, no matter how hard he searched Hercules could find no life-threatening injury. The hunter was a mass of bumps and bruises (he had luckily missed falling on his head or snapping his neck), but he would live. Sitting back with a sigh once again the demigod's fingers brushed metal. Reaching out Hercules picked up the offending object bringing it closer to identify it.

It was a silver goblet which even now was still full of warm heartsblood. Puzzled, Hercules tipped the cup slowly letting some of the viscous fluid spill to the floor, rightening it, and realizing that the cup was still full, still warm.

"What is this place?" Hercules whispered staring at the walls searching for some clue. He half expected to find the walls covered with mosaics and pictures of whatever deity owned this chalice of blood. But the cavern did not give up its secrets to him, and Hercules had to give up for the moment and deal with more pressing matters. Reaching over and rightening the stone table he'd knocked over upon first entering and replacing the stained cup in its old place, he turned back and gently gathered up Iolaus' still form. Jumping up to grasp ahold of the tree root with one hand, holding the hunter with his other he braced himself for the climb. Shivering slightly at the strangeness of it all Hercules quickly made his ascent, feeling the need to leave this blood soaked place and care for his friend.

The injuries were minor, as he'd concluded earlier in the cavern. Hercules made a quick camp some ways north of the hole in the ground. He supposed he could have taken Iolaus to the nearby village but he very much doubted he'd find a decent healer there. They were too close to Sparta and all its warrior beliefs for that.

Adding another log to the fire, despite the summer night's deceptive heat, he took ahold of the waterskin and washed away the drying blood and dirt from the hunter's fair hair and face. Gently Hercules touched the slightly formed bruise on his friend's cheek and was rewarded with a muffled groan.

"Iolaus?" The demigod asked softly, shaking the hunter gently. "Iolaus, can you hear me?"

His eyes fluttered for a moment before opening, blue and wide. For a moment they gazed up unfocused before recognition flooded their depths and a slight pain filled smile touched his lips.

"Hey Herc." Iolaus said in greeting. "Wha-what happened?" he asked trying to sit up not unsurprised when his half-mortal friend pressed him back down. "I was falling, the ground . . ."

"The ground gave way, there was a cavern underneath that grove, obviously it wasn't made for the weight of you *and* four mercenaries." Hercules explained wryly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay Herc." The golden hunter reassured his larger friend with a smile that faded as he realized that he was covered with blood. His eyes widened with fear and panic. He didn't feel that much pain! What had *happened*?

Hercules noted his panic and was quick to calm him. "It's not yours, it's not your blood."

"Well who's is it?" Iolaus asked carefully eyes narrowing.

"I don't know! There was this stone cavern below and blood everywhere from this goblet. I accidentally knocked it over. Sorry about that." He replied a little sheepishly.

The hunter closed his eyes with a weary sigh "Well since you did it saving me I . . . *suppose* I can forgive you this time." Iolaus responded with reluctant teasing magnanimity.

"You *suppose* you can forgive me?" Hercules repeated incessed but secretly glad. If Iolaus was well enough to make jokes he'd be fine.

Opening one eye and grinning madly he cuffed his friend good-naturedly. "You scared me half to death with this blood!"

"It scared you?" The demigod snorted derisively "You, my friend do not hold a monopoly on panic here!"

"Okay, okay!" Iolaus raised his hands in a gesture of truce now more serious. "Thanks for coming after me Herc."

"Any time." he responded with a smile.

"And now if you'll let me up-" the hunter began rising before the words had even passed his lips. "I'm going to wash this off before it stains everything. Gods! I'm covered with the stuff." He rose to his feet a little unsteadily staring down at himself. "How big was this goblet again?" he asked staring with narrow eyed disbelief at his friend.

"Not that big' Hercules answered shaking his head at the memory. "But it never seemed to run out, no matter how much spilt."

"Sounds like the work of the gods." Iolaus put in carefully.

"I know. But the cavern had no pictures, no statues. Any of my . . . relatives would have adorned the place with their own image."

"Yeah, well it's a mystery for another time. The mercenaries are out of the picture and I'm going to wash up." Slowly, mindful of his aching body the hunter made his way towards the gurgling stream he heard off to his left. He felt warm in the night air almost feverish and had the mind to cool himself off before he worried his friend.

"Be careful!" Hercules called after him. "Call if you need anything."

"Yes mother!" Iolaus called back the old retort smiling as he heard his friend chuckle. Sighing softly, trying to keep his unsteady balance he made his way to the bank unbuckling his scabbard and taking off his sticky vest and his boots. Shedding the rest of his clothes quickly he eased into the still tepid water, grateful that it was still summer and scrubbed as vigorously as he dared, scouring the blood and dirt away. Up to his waist in the water, still feeling the heat, he grabbed his vest off the bank and washed it as much as he could, luckily finding some soap-root nearby. Shaking his dripping hair and running his fingers through the tangled mass he made his way back to the bank, he shook off the dirt from his leather pants before donning them and the still damp vest. Sitting down with a sigh the blond took hold of his scabbard and wiped off the blood as best he could hoping the leather wasn't ruined. Drawing the blade he wet it, watching the water with its reflected glory of the moon become awash with red. Brining the blade back at eye level Iolaus stared at his faint wavering reflection on its sheen surface as if he'd never seen it before.

After a long moment he stood up and made his way back to camp where Hercules had already stretched out on his bedroll by the fire. He shied away from the flames, it was way too hot to even be having one at this time of year. Staring down at the demigod for a long moment, Iolaus ignored his own sleeping place and turned south and began walking away from the camp and from the heat. Through the trees and bushes, silent as any night animal he headed back towards the pit and the cavern.

He wasn't sure exactly where it was, but he could feel his skin prick in the summer night and he knew he was close.

Moving cautiously he peered out and could see the dark impression in the ground and knew he was at the cave-in. Walking closer, somehow free from fear, Iolaus raised his sword and reached out with it to pierce the darkness of the open wound in Gaia when he heard the crack of a branch behind him. Cool air greeted him from the cavern below and he breathed it in with a sigh of relief.

"Just what in Hades do you think you're doing Iolaus?"

Iolaus didn't turn around at the sound of his friend's indignant voice. He edged closer to the crumbling hole feeling the dirt shift around his feet. "C'mon Herc. It's just a hole in the ground. Don't you want to know what's down there?"

"I already know what's down there!" Hercules replied, anger tinging his tone "And wasn't falling into it once enough for one day?"

"Aw! Don't be afraid Herc! It's just a pit!"

Suddenly, without warning several dark figures burst through the trees. In the moonlight Iolaus could make out the glint of their drawn weapons. Clutching his firmly, he moved forward, stepping out over the darkness of the cave-in. He felt a strong sudden hand grasp his vest yanking him back.

"Iolaus--!"

He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and he turned his head suddenly to look into his partner's searching eyes.

"Iolaus, c'mon let's go back to camp." Hercules said softly.

Eyes wide in confusion the hunter looked about seeing not the pit or the mercenaries but the flowing stream at his feet, the moon no longer visible in the colder night sky.

"C'mon, you can sleep back at camp." The demigod took the naked sword from his sleepy blond's hand grabbing the fallen scabbard as well, taking him by the arm and guiding Iolaus back to the fire.

Falling gratefully into his bedroll Iolaus sighed now appreciating the warmth of the fire on his aching muscles. The fever had passed, the strange dream as well and things were how they should be, he thought tiredly. Hercules sheathed his friend's sword laying the scabbard down beside him before returning to his own place and falling back asleep.

In the darkness of the now moonless night, the hunter's eyes snapped open and gazed up at the heavens with their cold starfire, face expressionless. His hand reached out questingly and grasped firmly on the hilt of his sword before Iolaus finally surrendered to sleep once more.

Now bathed in starlight, the stream still flowed serenely onward swirls of blood mixing liberally with water.

In the early morning light of what was sure to be another scorching summer day it was the breaking of branches, heavy footsteps, and muffled voices that woke the heroes. Alert in an instant, both men sat up, Iolaus a little more stiffly than usual, expecting the remaining mercenaries.

*Gods they are stupider than I thought* Hercules realized in disgust sh***ng a glance with his friend. Clenching his fists he tensed, ready for them to strike.

The brush parted and it was not mercenaries but armed villagers who seemed relieved to see them. "Hercules!" one of the men said in greeting tinged with some relief. Not much adulation from these people Hercules noted. Sometimes it could be a little tiring. Spartans were more refreshing this way, but they were far from faultless.

"Rinan." the demigod replied in turn. "I'm sorry we didn't head back to tell you how it went last night, but my friend was a bit bruised from a fall so we didn't want to move much."

The tall lean man stared briefly at Iolaus for a moment, expression almost purposefully blank and unfocused."I understand." Rinan said with a nod. "We'll dispose of the bodies, I doubt we will be troubled again. Thank you for your assistance."

"Bodies?" Iolaus queried glancing from Rinan to Hercules.

"I guess I hit them harder than I thought." Hercules said with shrug. He didn't like killing but sometimes it was necessary.

"It was no less than what they deserved." One of the other villagers with a flaming red beard put in, animosity evident in his voice. "If you don't like blood maybe you should find another line of work, *boy*."

"Barro!" Rinan hissed angrily and the bearded man fell silent.

The demigod quickly looked at his mortal friend eyes filled with worry. Calling Iolaus "boy" was the same as calling him a coward. This was made ten times worse by the fact that this was a Spartan. Hercules braced himself for his friend's explosive temper knowing better than to try and stop him even though after the fall he wasn't sure if the hunter was up to it.

Iolaus cocked his head sideways in the silence that seemed to stretch forever after the challenging comment had been spoken. Very slowly he fingered his sword eyes glued to it, his words odd, and spoken coldly and calmly and somehow all the more chilling in the early morning air.

"I have no . . . *problem* with blood."

Rinan cleared his throat uncomfortably still only looking at Hercules. "We best be heading back. Hopefully you'll stop by in our village before journeying on to your home?"

The implied question, more of an olive branch, hung in the air for a moment before Hercules dragged his eyes away from his friend and nodded his agreement. "We will see you this afternoon Rinan."

Slowly at first the Spartans turned and retreated back to their village. But they didn't move fast enough since Barro's muttering could still be heard. "-need their help, son of Zeus and his puny partner . . ."

"Hmm" Iolaus quickly sling his scabbard around his waist before looking up at his friend, a surprising and rather amused glimmer in his eyes. "Oh c'mon Herc!" he said at last, having to laugh at his partner's worry filled expression. "We just saved those people! I couldn't very well crack their heads in for a few stupid words?"

Relieved, Hercules let out a chuckle. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" he asked jokingly reaching out to place a hand on the hunter's forehead. "No fever." he muttered and the grasped the smaller man's shoulders shaking him theatrically. "Okay where's the real Iolaus?"

The blond giggled. "Give it a rest Herc!"

"Honestly falling into that pit must have finally knocked some common sense into you!" the demigod teased with a smile "All this responsible behavior . . . By the time we reach Corinth for the Summer Solstice my mother and Jason won't be able to recognize you!"

Shaking his golden head Iolaus laughed and headed down to the stream to wash up and catch breakfast before they broke camp and headed for the village they had just helped defend.

The two heroes took their time wandering down the road and arrived in the village hot and hungry in the late afternoon. The village of Raitha was very much influenced by the nearest city-state of Sparta. Homes were functional and there was only minimal farmland. The town center consisted of the council chambers, a training school for children, several tavern and inns and most prominently an arena. Both women and men carried arms in Raitha, but the council had still welcomed the two wandering heroes help the day before when the mercenaries struck looting, slaughtering and raping the people. The damage was already almost repaired, the dead given honored burial, and life went on.

Hercules and Iolaus made their way toward the inn on the far side, away from the arena that was empty now but sure to be active as the cooling night air fell. Entering the clean and simple establishment and securing rooms for the night both men sat down to a large delicious dinner. The people of Raitha showed their thanks in ways other than fawning praise, for which both men and their stomachs were grateful for.

Rinan joined them as they were finishing the last of their food, with another perfunctory thanks before ordering them a round of ales.

"We will be burning the bodies of the mercenaries tonight once the air has cooled." the lean man stated drinking slowly. "After the arena events. Hercules I offer you the chance to participate." Rinan invited.

"What about Iolaus?" Hercules asked eyes narrowing.

Rinan seemed to blink and then notice that the hunter was actually seated with them and colored slightly realizing his mistake. "Oh. W-well I'm not sure that the competition would be fair. Our men and women are strong and well trained-"

"And Iolaus is not?" Hercules asked feeling anger build within him. It was bad enough people overlooked his friend until he had proved himself, but this was getting ridiculous and insulting, and he wasn't going to stand for it. Iolaus was one of the best fighter he knew. But, he realized with a start, why wasn't *Iolaus* standing up for himself?

The mortal hunter, pointedly ignored Rinan and the conversation as well as the drink the Spartan had bought him, seemingly uncaring of the insult in Hercules' eyes until quicker than most people though possible he grabbed ahold of Rinan's hand as he raised his mug again to his lips.

Rinan finally, really looked at the hunter seeing those blue eyes bore into him like an arrow. Iolaus said nothing but simply stared at the man. Rinan shifted uncomfortably in his seat blushing furiously. Hercules looked around the now silent tavern noting how while the men and women weren't watching, they were holding perfectly still as if waiting for a storm to break.

Surprisingly it didn't. Iolaus rose from the table and throwing down a coin to pay for the drink that he hadn't touched he headed up the stairs to his room.

Excusing himself quickly, anger barely in check, Hercules followed.

Iolaus shut the door behind him and ran his fingers through his unruly curls. His body burned with fury at being treated so patronizingly. It reminded him of times long ago which he'd much prefer to have forgotten.

However somethings you carried with you always. Some words never *really* left.

He heard the tentative knock on the door, expecting it, taking comfort in it and reached out to open the door.

"Iolaus is there some reason why you didn't tear up that tavern from end to end down there that I'm not aware of?" Hercules asked without preamble.

"Spartans can be infuriating." Iolaus replied his mask of disinterest slipping to show his friend his anger. Somehow seeing that made Hercules calm down, knowing that it was indeed still there. "But if there was one thing my . . . *father*" he all but spat the word the Hercules' surprise "taught me is that they respect control. So, I'm being in control."

"Are you sure you're all right with this? I mean we can go back down there and trash the place if you want." Hercules offered with a smile knowing a clever coverup when he saw one.

"Yeah I'm fine with it. Go on! Get ready for the competition tonight. I'll turn in early, I'm still a bit sore."

"I'm not going Iolaus, not if you're not coming." The demigod held up a hand to forestall his friends protests. "We'll both get an early night and then head for Corinth in the morning."

The hunter nodded his agreement and said good-night, closing the door once again. Standing in the silence of his room he suddenly felt as if he couldn't breath, as if some horrible weight was chocking him alive. Quickly he hurried over and threw open the shutters on the windows watching the last purples of the sun disappear and night descend. A strong breeze had started and Iolaus closed his eyes letting it cool his temper, cool his emotions. He was *not* going to let these Spartans get the better of him. *But,* a voice whispered inside *you're not some weakling to be ignored.*

Already he could hear the Spartans gathering out in the arena even from the distance, ready to compete. Turning away from the window sighing in disgust he stared at himself in the burnished bronze mirror for a long moment.

Taking a step closer he reached out and touched it eyes strangely empty in the dusky light.

Hercules could hear the cries and clashing of weapons from the arena even in his fitful doze. However that wasn't the only thing keeping the son of Zeus awake.

Iolaus' behavior was puzzling him despite his friend's explanation. For all his laughing words and jokes, this hurt him, Hercules could see that. Being taken for granted, being overlooked and demeaned . . . His father had done that to him whenever he was home.

Being in a Spartan village during their summer competitions must not be easy for him. His father, Skouros had been Spartan trained, and the extent of the physical and emotional abuse he gave his son Hercules did not know. But he knew Iolaus well enough to recognize a brave front when he saw one. Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow he'd talk to Iolaus about it.

Turning over once again trying to find rest he heard the gasp of the crowd.

Opening his eyes in the now silent night he realized with a sigh someone must have died in the arena. Not that uncommon in Sparta, but obviously here in a small village death in competition, one neighbor killing another, meant something more.

Hercules was glad he hadn't gone and pulling a pillow over his head, and kicking off his blankets finally went to sleep.

The next morning, dawning clear and bright, found Hercules tapping on his friend's door. The hunter opened it, already awake, hair a damp golden crown.

"Bathing twice in less than one day,"the demigod began, his mouth twisting into a smile. "can only mean one thing. Who's the girl Iolaus?"

The hunter shook his head, giggling. "There is no girl Herc. I just chose to take advantage of the Spartans gratitude with a hot bath. I think I finally managed to get all the knots out after that fall." he finished stretching like a giant cat.

Iolaus' innocent words sparked a half-hidden uneasiness deep within the demigod. The cavern, his friend's fall, the goblet of blood . . . there was something about the whole subject that put his nerves on edge. Shaking the feeling off with disgust he and his mortal friend started down into the tavern below to catch an early breakfast before setting out towards home.

The tavern already had occupants judging by the sounds that drifted up the stairwell, probably remnants from last night who hadn't bothered to leave with the celebrations and competitions impending. However silence fell when the two heroes entered. Everyone in the tavern simply stopped and stared.

Hercules glanced warily back at his partner and then down at himself wondering what they could be looking at. His musings were cut short when Iolaus moved forward brushing past him, obviously unconcerned by the villagers silent regard which Hercules noted followed his mortal friend's movements. Securing a table for himself and the demigod the golden hunter motioned for a maid to bring breakfast. Finally as if just noticing the silent audience he had, Iolaus stared back at them.

As if it was some secret signal everyone's eyes snapped around quickly and the low murmur of conversation started hesitantly once again, before growing in magnitude. Hercules felt completely lost as to what was going on, and was quickly losing his tenuous control on his temper.

"What in Hades is wrong with these people?" The demigod seethed.

Iolaus placed a calming hand on his friend's shoulder. "How'm I suppose to know buddy? They're Spartans and it's their competition I'm-the-most-hotheaded-and-bloodthirsty-one time of year. Just ignore them." he added darkly beginning the breakfast the maid put down in front of him. "Eat Herc!" he ordered after a moment with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "The sooner we're done, the sooner we can leave."

Grumbling under his breath the taller man did as his friend asked.

Finishing their meal in silence the two gathered up their belongings and headed out of Raitha. Leaving the plaza they passed the undertakers shop. More than just a few bodies lay covered, ready for the pyre. Hercules stopped and stared, feeling slightly disconcerted by the sight. Moving closer to the undertaker, a rather small and old man who was obviously not a Spartan but doing very well in his trade by living near them he tapped the man on the shoulder to get his attention.

"Excuse me" The demigod began politely. "But I thought the mercenaries bodies were to be burned last night."

"Hmm? Oh the mercenaries!" The man said looking up from his work. AThose men burned last night. We put the whole score of them on the pyre. These are the casualties from the arena. Spartans. . . " the man said shaking "You'd think they'd be more careful. All this bloodshed for Ares." Tutting he shook his head again and shuffled back into the shade of his shop.

Reaching out cautiously, Hercules pulled back the cloth covering one of the larger corpses wondering why he felt no surprise but a deep-seated growing dread when he saw that it was the red-beared man Barro. The man's eyes were closed, though obviously that was the work of the undertaker. The man had his throat slit like a chicken.

Swallowing Hercules' eye caught the shape of a skinny muscular form under another cloth. Moving over to the slab he hesitated. *Rinan?* he thought clenching his jaw, the feelings of anger and annoyance he'd held evaporating like the early morning mist into nothingness. He grasped the cloth tightly, hoping desperately he was wrong.

"Herc!" Iolaus' voice pulled at him insistently. "Hercules, what is it?"

His head snapped up and away from the slab at the sound of the hunter's words. He stared at his smaller warrior friend who's hair had already dried in the summer heat to create a halo of gold around his head.

"What?" Iolaus asked warily into the silence. "What is it?"

Hercules searched his friend, looking urgently, yet unsure, uncertain of just *what* he was looking for. Had Iolaus been calm at the tavern and in the glen outside the village, ignoring the insults just to prove himself worthy to the Spartans in the arena? What that *possible?*

Iolaus had never really gotten along with Spartans and Spartans had never really gotten along with him. They thought him small and weak and if he'd been born in Sparta his parents probably would have left him for dead. As it was, the hunter's Spartan trained father had shown his disgust in his son in other ways.

Guiless cornflower blue eyes gazed back unwaveringly, as clear and as deep as ever. The saying went that the eyes were the windows to a persons soul, and looking at his warrior friend Hercules saw nothing, *nothing* to prove the icy cold hand of premonition taking hold of his heart.

But then again, he saw nothing to disprove it.

"Hercules are you all right?" Iolaus asked eyes widening in concern. His half mortal partner was acting decidedly strange, the hunter mused, all this anger against the Spartans. *Maybe he's bothered by the fact that he killed some of the mercenaries accidentally* he rationalized.

They really needed a vacation. *Hopefully* Iolaus prayed *being in Corinth, being near family will help.*

Shaking himself Hercules let go of the cloth without pulling it back to reveal the dead and continued down the road in silence. The golden hunter hesitated a moment staring at the bodies that had unnerved his friend so before turning quickly and hurrying after the demigod as they left the Spartan town far behind them.

In silence, the two men continued for several miles. Iolaus had tried to engaged in conversation about the weather, about the festival, about anything, but Hercules was unresponsive, except for those searching eyes that pierced the hunter. He was beginning to feel that the demigod was trying to figure something out, trying to . . . tell him something? Confused, Iolaus shook his head. He felt fine. A little warm, he wouldn't mind a midday swim. But nothing was wrong with him. Iolaus stopped trying to talk and the two men brooded with their thoughts in silence and heat of the day.

Almost rhythmically with this stride Hercules tried to rationalize his doubt in his best friend and brother away.

They were so engrossed in their own private quandaries that they really weren't paying attention when an unsavory group of men encircle them.

"Well what have we here?" the obvious leader chuckled. "Two men, one strong and one puny. Not a bad catch. You'll be worth a few dinars."

Hercules snapped out of his silence with a disgusted and impatient look on his face. *Couldn't they just once have a trip without being bothered on the road? Then again* he realized *a fight might be just what I need to clear my head of these . . . thoughts.*

Back to back the two men stood, Iolaus already drawing his sword, not waiting for the attackers to come.

"Get them!" The leader roared unoriginally. The dozen slavers rushed forward, staves and swords ready to take their prey. The two heroes moved forward in their own directions ready to meet the attack in kind.

Hercules reached out and grabbed two of them by the front of their stained tunics, slamming them together before throwing them at their other four companions. Groaning the men tripped and stumbled into each other before advancing again swords slashing the air. The demigod danced backward from the cutting strokes before reaching out to capture one of the slaver's arms and using the man's own weapon to fight of his friends' with a grin. A little worried that he'd heard no wisecracks, no bitting sarcastic remarks from Iolaus he turned to see how his partner was doing, and nearly got skewered for not paying attention.

Hercules' smile faded from his face and his eyes grew wide with fear. "Oh, no. Gods, please . . ."

Iolaus fought like a demon out of Tartarus, sword striking, body in constant furious motion. He'd never seen the hunter fight like that, with such speed and skill, with such a killer's proficiency, and all in an unearthly deadly cold silence.

Barely dodging the blade that would have made him shish kabob, Hercules forced himself to turn away from the death dance and quickly finished thumping the remaining slavers down hoping they'd get the message and just *leave.*

However it was not Hercules' thrashing that caused the leader to screech out the call to retreat but the blood that now stained the sandy road so liberally, spurting out and splattering on the mortal man, staining his blade. With a feeling of dread Hercules realized that this was not a loss of control or temper that affected every warrior including himself from time to time. This was intended, this was cunningly and lethally exacted by his best friend with less emotion than a stone.

The slavers stumbled and ran dragging several very dead bodies with them. Iolaus, face an icy mask reached out to pull one of the men back by the scruff of his neck, raising his blade like some deranged angel of revenge, ready to strike the man dead.

"Iolaus! NO!" Hercules roared hoping his voice would bring his friend out of this strange blood wrath that had gripped him. Taking an iron hold on the hunter's descending arm he yanked the warrior back so hard he stumbled and practically fell onto of the demigod.

The blond gasped, breath coming in desperate gulps, sweat now mixing with the blood on his body. Hercules regained his balance still holding on to the smaller man's sword arm and became aware of the fading heat from the golden form of his friend. This was no berserkers' fury, this was something much worse. *What in Hades is going on?!*

Slowly, as the slavers disappeared down the road the demigod released his hold on Iolaus noting with a desperate sinking feeling dried *older* blood staining the scabbard and the hilt as well as his hunting knife tucked into his belt.

"Iolaus." Hercules began slowly trying to control the irrational urge to shake his friend silly. "Iolaus just what in Tartarus did you think you were *doing?!* You killed some of them."

Not bothering to wipe his blade clean the hunter sheathed his blade, pulling away from his friend. "They were slavers Herc. The gods only know how many poor innocents they have dragged off to be sold like animals!"

"But that doesn't mean you go out of your way to kill them!" the demigod said reaching out a hand to his friend.

"Yes it does!" Iolaus retorted, angry now. Somehow Hercules felt faintly pleased that the cold unfeeling wrath had left his partner, that he was showing some feeling, but that didn't make things any better. "Do you think that if we just beat them up they'll just stop? How many weak defenseless people have they hurt? And how many more will they hurt if they live?"

Hercules cleared his throat and decided to really talk about what was bothering him "That's not the point! What is wrong? You've been acting strange for the last couple of days. So cold, almost inhuman, even now! I've never seen you so- so unfeeling."

"What's wrong with me?" Iolaus repeated with a snort "What is wrong with* you* Hercules? Just because I'm more in control, because I don't take action to every insult--"

"That's what I'm worried about! You control your anger and then let it out on the slavers by killing them? What has happened to you?" Hercules asked with a confused anxious tone. "You sound like a Spartan. Is that what this is?" he demanded relentlessly. "Some way of proving yourself to them? I thought that you were acting oddly but this is no way to deal with their prejudice. It's not--"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Iolaus snarled cutting him off. "I'm *nothing* like them."

"Then why did you go to the arena last night? You did, didn't you?"

The hunter's mouth fell open in confused shock. "I was in my room all night!"

"Then explain the blood." Hercules said coldly reaching out to drag the hunter's sword away from him lifting the hilt and the scabbard into plain view.

"That's blood from the slavers." Iolaus rationalized not even looking at the weapon hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"It's dried blood, Iolaus. You fought in the arena. Look at it!" Hercules ordered pushing the sword at the hunter.

"No! I didn't! I was in my room!" the blond denied, hurt and angry at his partner's words. "Why would I go to one of *their* competitions after- after . . . " Iolaus trailed off not wanting to go down that path of his childhood. "You know me better than that!"

"I thought I did!' Hercules shook his head and continued on softer now. AYou went to the arena and you killed Barro in combat with some crazy idea it would earn the Spartan's respect."

"No! I didn't!"

"And you challenged and beat Rinan too, for what he said in the tavern."

"Stop saying that!" The hunter all but roared eyes blazing with anger and misery. "I *didn't* kill anyone! Not over some stupid words from people I don't even care about!"

"Iolaus I saw the bodies. Barro's neck was slit." With one quick motion he reached out and grabbed the hunter's knife as well, finding it too was stained with dry blood.

"No . . ." The golden hunter whispered staring at the knife. It wasn't possible. Why would he fight in the arena? He'd gone strait to bed. He *remembered.* He couldn't have killed them. He couldn't have.

"Iolaus what is going on? Talk to me!" the demigod entreated softly, pain in his eyes. "If this has something to do with your father--"

Something snapped in Iolaus, so painfully Hercules swore he could almost see it. Fury, unabashed rage filled his friend's sapphire eyes and without warning the hunter's hand flashed out, slamming like a battering ram into the demigod's jaw.

Dazed Hercules fell, feeling his partner's hands rip the sword and knife away. He could hear Iolaus' footsteps retreating, running, running as if Cerberus himself was chasing him. Groaning and rubbing his jaw he sat up. *What am I going to do now?* he thought with sigh. *Maybe I should--*

"Don't think too unkindly of him, brother." a voice intruded unthreateningly "He really doesn't remember."

Leaping to his feet, fists clenching Hercules turned to face the intruder anger evident. "Ares!" He snarled. "I should have known you'd have something to with this!"

"Hold on!" Ares said backing up hands uncharacteristically held up in surrender. "I had nothing to do with your mortal friend's problem. I'm here to help."

"Help him to the Other Side, if you had your way!"

"Will you shut-up and listen?" Ares snapped, an old fire of anger and impatience kindling in his dark eyes. "It's important that we find Iolaus, and fast."

"Why? So you can kill him or drive him crazy while I'm *watching*?!" Hercules spat stifling the urge to strangle his older half-brother.

Sighing in disgust Ares moved closer. "Listen, Iolaus has been acting strangely right?" Not waiting for an answer the god of war continued on. "His odd behavior is a threat to mortals at the moment, but unless we hurry, he'll be a threat to gods as well."

"So it's a matter of self preservation now Ares?" Hercules hissed, jaw clenched painfully, and already bruising "You're little experiment, whatever you did to Iolaus is now backfiring?"

"Dammit!" Ares roared losing his patience "I'm not responsible! The blood in the cavern was not my doing!"

"Is that what's behind it?" the demigod asked eyes wide in surprise "But I touched it too."

"Yes you did brother. You've been feeling angry lately, a little feverish?"

"A little when we were in Raitha." Hercules admitted sullenly, still angry at his brother, still not trusting.

"Well that was the effects of the blood. Only minor and very controllable if your a half god half mortal mix. Your friend however lay drenched in the stuff, and he is very mortal." Ares explained with a dark tone.

"So how is Iolaus' violent behavior threatening to you? What did the blood do to him? How do I fix this?" The demigod demanded sick of this conversation and desperate to run after his friend before the trail grew cold.

"The blood is the lifeblood of Gaia herself, her molten fury for her imprisoned children, first the cyclops' and the hundred-armed ones, and now most of the Titans. To drink it is to gain strength in battle, loose fear and be a true warrior. It is a difficult gift to gain." Ares admitted "and Gaia does not bestow it on just anyone."

"Not on you obviously." Hercules mocked. He knew he shouldn't but the wounds from Serena's murder were still too fresh.

Ares swallowed a retort along with most of his anger. "Listen *brother.* The blood isn't supposed to be bathed in! Such exposure on a mortal such as your *little* friend-- Hercules bristled at the word little "is having a very interesting effect."

"You say he doesn't remember killing in the arena?"

"No he doesn't, not yet. Your friend never needed the blood of Gaia to be a . . .great warrior." Ares confessed reluctantly. Hercules suppressed an unfeeling laugh. "He already had what he needed. So it's feeding off something in his head, an old anger. It's latched onto something unresolved and plauges him with bouts of feaverish madness. Gaia's blood had brought an bloodlust upon him, he *needs* it to repress and sate whatever his old wound is. But he doesn't remember getting his fixes, not until the fever and the desire is upon him. And the bloodwrath is violent to the point where it burns cold and controlled, and much *much* more dangerously."

"Dangerous enough to kill a god."

Hercules swallowed remembering the silent fury of Iolaus' fight with the slaves. The intensity, the deadly speed.

"What must I do?" Hercules asked quietly relaxing his hands in sadness.

"You've got to find him. His precious integrity is keeping his killings in line, but not for much longer. Then take away his weapons and tie him up until the bloodwrath passes, until he no longer needs to kill to prove he's a man to his dearly departed daddy."

Ares knew he had went to far the second the words had slipped past his lips. Hercules' hand shot out and grasped the front of his black leather armor, blue eyes burning.

"I'm going after my friend. And you better pray that you're telling the truth, otherwise Iolaus will be the least of your troubles."

Ares brushed his younger brother's hand away with one violent sweep of his hand. "Is that a threat?" he hissed darkly.

"It's a promise." Hercules replied with deadly certainty. Turning from the god of war, the demigod began to follow the path Iolaus had taken, not looking back as Ares disappeared in a blast of light and fire. As he continued on he realized where this path was taking him.

Sparta. Iolaus was headed for Sparta.

Iolaus passed unmolested through the gates of Sparta. The place hadn't changed much since the very first time he'd been there. The same cold imposing walls, the same straightforward, unadorned buildings and people. Things were functional, controlled, warrior ready. Things were ordered and disciplined. He hadn't been when he'd been brought here as a child. He was the antithesis to a Spartans way of life his father had told him, unworthy of even being within the walls.

*Don't think about that Iolaus. Don't think about him* He shuttered and clenched his jaw as he tried to forget old old memories of a small and skinny blond haired boy and his general father . . .

*Well that was a long time ago,* the hunter shook himself, *and a lot had happened since that first summer competition all those years ago . . . Don't think about it, don't think about it . . . *

A lot had happened and this time, he was meeting the Spartans on their own terms.

Iolaus moved quickly through the crowds, knowing through memory and instinct just where to go. Before he knew it he was at the arena, much more impressive than the one in Raitha. Even now as dusk fell, the heat oppressive, the competition was going on. Men and women alike battled and fought for honor and glory, for prowess and for victory. As he watched, a fire that started behind his eyes began to smolder and shoot through every nerve through his body. Breath and heartbeat coming faster now he made his way through the crowds of Spartans who roared in approval at the matches before them. Staring out onto the arena he felt the desire to be there, the be fighting, to taste blood with his sword. It was physical need that threatened to rage if he didn't feed it.

Iolaus found he had no problems with fulfilling his need to fight. In fact he longed for it, longed for a chance to prove himself worthy of a Spartan's respect.

*This time* he thought grasping his sword and drawing it, moving purposefully into the arena *This time it'll be me wearing the victory crown.*

Hercules didn't reach Sparta until the first stars began to shine through the fading sunset. Sweating from the heat he quickly entered and stopped one of the guards by the gate.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a blond man in a purple patch vest about so tall?" He held up his hand to just above his shoulder. The Spartan actually gave his question a moments thought before shaking his head and motioning the demigod to move along.

Sighing in exasperation Hercules made his way onto the main thoroughfare not needing to ask for directions, the roar from the arena filled the whole city. Breaking into a run, the demigod rushed towards the sound, hoping against hope that Ares was wrong, that he was wrong, that everything was wrong-

Hercules reached the lit arena, looking over the heads of the crowd and felt his heart just stop. "Oh, Iolaus . . ." he whispered.

His laughing friend was in the arena, now a deadly golden whirlwind with his sword. Blood drenched the sand the combatants stood upon. Hercules watched in horror as Iolaus dispatched the swordsman of his weapon and skewering him, wounding but not killing him, with one beautifully crafted motion.

Almost subconsciously Ares words echoed through his mind.

*His precious integrity is keeping his killings in line, but not for much longer.*

It was like some bizarre dance. The contenders kept coming and Iolaus would attack with a fury of strikes, disarming, knocking unconscious, and more and more often wounding his opponents. Blood stained his blade, his hands, his vest, his boots. He was bathed in the unholy river, silently reveling in the fury and, Hercules realized with a sinking feeling, the slowly but surly growing support of the crowd.

The demigod was broken out of his revive when he heard the catcalls of some of the audience as Iolaus faced off an incredibly muscular bull of a man, taller than even Hercules, and over twice as broad.

"Let's see you beat Orron, shorty!"

"Take that little man!"

Hercules, felt rather than saw the tensing of the hunter's shoulders. This was going to get gruesome, there was no more time to waste. Iolaus was going to kill the man. Forcing his way through the roaring stomping crowd of Spartans, Hercules hurried to save his friend from doing something he'd regret.

There was no doubt in his mind what the outcome of the fight would be if Iolaus was feeling like himself. The blond would win without it turning into a death match. But under these conditions . . .

Iolaus burned inside, his blood felt like molten lava in his veins. *Blood* he thought *blood would cool the heat. Blood of this taunting, stupid, hated, insulting-*

The hunter dodged the large man, sheathing his sword, rolling on the damp sand, bracing himself on his powerful arms and then kicking out with both feet hitting him on his kneecaps.

The giant groaned, but not before took his staff and swung a wide arch catching Iolaus on the side and slamming him high up on the stone wall surrounding the depressed arena pit. Before he could even slide down to the ground, the staff pined his chest and upper arms to the wall with a bonecrushing weight. The giant, smile on his face slapped Iolaus, palm open as if he were nothing more than a disobedient animal, nothing more than a impertinent child-

Clenching his eyes shut Iolaus braced his feet against the stone wall and brought up his hand and with an incredible burst of strength and speed pushed the staff and the giant Spartan off. Falling, Iolaus pulled his sword free, the blade still dripping blood, not hesitating, reaching out and slicing the man's hamstrings below both knees.

Bellowing in pain, the man fell flat on his face in the sand. That should have ended the fight but Iolaus still burned, from the taunts, from the catcalls, from the slap. It was too easy, there wasn=t enough suffering, there wasn't enough *blood-*

Coming over he pulled at the larger Spartan.

"Get up!" He spat. "Get up and fight!"

Snarling the giant forced himself up and swung, ready to pummel the blond into the arena sand. Iolaus was however too quick. Somersaulting over the thick arm, the hunter's foot connected with the man's chin. The Spartan fell back, grunting, still grabbing for Iolaus, catching his vest and his amulet in his beefy hand.

With a battlecry Iolaus plunged his sword straight into the Spartan=s heart using the deathstrike as leverage to yank away from his opponent.

"Iolaus! No!" The denial seemed to come from behind him, seemed so very familiar that it pierced the fevered haze that surrounded him.

Blood spurting everywhere, and with a tearing of his vest and the snapping of the cord that held his amulet, Iolaus stood free and victorious. Kneeling down he picked up the amulet at his feet turning the smooth stone over and over in his hands. In the distance, almost as if coming from through a tunnel he could hear the murmur and din of hundreds of people, but over it all the insistent voice.

"Iolaus!"

Clutching the amulet tightly in his bloodstained hand he looked over to the still form of the Spartan. Through the haze he realized he'd won, really won. Smiling, and letting out a small laugh, he took hold of his sword and stood up, raising the dripping blade high into the night sky and roared his victory at the summer moon.

"Orron! You killed him!" a voice broke in. From the sidelines a younger man, more of a boy really, pushed past his fellows and stormed towards Iolaus. "I'll have your head for this!"

Iolaus didn't even bother to turn, mesmerized by the stars and the blood and the coolness it brought to the rage he felt inside. He had won. He was worthy. He was sure of it.

The boy pulled his own weapon and was ready to attack the hunter from behind, and most likely suicidally, give Iolaus' current state of mind when a large hand stopped him cold.

"You don't want to do this." the tall man said, blue eyes visible even in the moonlight. The boy's friends and some obviously older relatives, came forward to pull the boy back to the sidelines.

"Come away Ceric . The man was in his right."

Hercules watched as cajoling and tugging they were able to drag the reluctant boy along, but not before he got the last word in. "Coward! You're not a warrior! You're just a fake! A coward! A pretender! You'll never measure up to a real man, runt! Never!"

The hunter's head snapped around at the boy's words dark and very dangerous. Hunching his shoulders he advanced, purpose deadly. Hercules moved quickly into his friend's path, grabbing ahold of his arms to stop him. The blond struggled against his grip.

"Iolaus, he's just a boy, he didn't mean it! Iolaus!" he finally yelled shaking his partner trying to get him to listen. "Iolaus, look at me." Hercules ordered gently.

But Iolaus was far, far beyond whatever his best friend had to say to him. The fever and the rage rose like a tide within him and he knew just what would make it go away, what would make the turmoil of feelings within him all go away. Twisting suddenly he pulled away from the demigod raising his blade and moving forward once again.

Hercules caught his wrist yanking him around. He searched frantically through the depths of his friend's blue eyes in the dim light finding nothing there but the unquenchable fire and unstoppable fury.

Iolaus however wasn't nearly as tolerant of the larger man restraining him and once again let his fist fly. This time however the demigod stopped the punch with his free hand feeling that Iolaus still clutched the amulet tightly.

"Iolaus, we need to talk." he informed the warrior quietly, pulling his bloody sword away from him.

The hunter was suddenly aware of the eyes of the crowd, their murmurs at the confrontation. Shame and embarrassment swept through him until he blushed furiously. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He had *won.* No one could disarm or hold him.

With a snarl of rage, his foot lashed out and tripped Hercules. The demigod held onto the blond dragging him down with him, but losing the sword in the sand. Kicking out again, Iolaus managed to get free and fumbled for his weapon.

With a shake of his head Hercules realized there was only one solution. He reached over and pulled his friend away from his blade with one fierce tug on his vest before balling up his fist and tapping him neatly on the jaw.

Iolaus slumped unconscious on the ground. Sighing in sympathy, Hercules brushed some sand out of his friend's fair hair before beginning to lift him up. Halfway however the demigod realized the Spartans were still watching and slung the hunter over his shoulder instead of lifting him in his arms like a child. He would give Iolaus the treatment of a warrior in arms as a Spartan would. His friend needed no more of their prejudiced insults. Picking up the fallen sword, Hercules walked out of the arena in silence.

Passing through the pit entrance a Spartan to the left called out drunkenly. 'Yeah! Carry home the puny runt! Bring him back when he's grown a foot."

With a disgusted look, Hercules gave the man a shove that sent him flying and crashing into his laughing buddies.

*Spartans!*

Alcmene was still sleeping when, as the rosy tips of dawn shone through her bedroom across her and her husband Jason, the palace guard began knocking on their door. Glancing over at he still oblivious husband and sighing mightily she slipped out of bed and into her robe and opened the door.

"Yes what is it?" She asked trying not to yawn.

"I am sorry Lady Alcmene, but there is a man claiming to be your son Hercules here and he is asking to see you. I told him you were sleeping but he insisted--"

"Well if he says he's my son then he is my son and of course I'll see him." Alcmene snapped still a little out of sorts after having been woken up so soon after falling asleep. With Solstice only a week away, the celebrations and the parties were becoming more loud, more boisterous, and lasting well into early morning.

"O-of course my lady." the guard sputtered a little taken aback by the small woman's sharp tone. He gestured her forward. "I'll take you to him."

Quickly they made their way through the maze of corridors of the palace before finally entering a small anteroom. Dismissing the guard she ran to her son, arms open to embrace him. It had been too long since their last meeting and she like any mother worried for him immensely. However she stopped short as he turned seeing the still familiar form he carried now cradled in his arms.

"Hercules! What happened?" She reached out frightened and hesitantly, to touch the still form of the golden hunter. "Is Iolaus all right? Was it Hera?"

"No mother." Hercules was quick to sooth. He didn't like to see his mother upset anymore than he liked to see Iolaus hurt the way he was, torn apart from the inside out. "It's . . .something else. I need a room away from the rest of the chambers with a-a lock, and some cold water."

"I'll get the healer." Alcmene announced, ready to call for him to be waken up, when her son's hand stopped her.

"No, the healer can't help. It's too . . . dangerous." he finally admitted, giving away nothing more of his best friend's conditions and the threat he was to everyone. "It's not his body, it's something in his mind." he explained, regaining his outwardly calm "He needs to ride this out."

"And you need to be with him." Alcmene stated knowing too well the bond between the son of her flesh and the son of her heart. She could see the pain hiding in his blue eyes, this was very serious.

Hercules, not trusting his voice nodded. "Will- will you explain to Iphicles?" he asked quietly.

"Of course." his mother all but whispered. She reached out to brush back the hunter's wayward curls wishing with all her heart he would magically awaken and be his laughing sunny self again.

*Wistful thinking* she realized with a heavy sigh, moving towards the door, he two *sons* behind her.

Alcmene handed her son the key to the chamber with reluctance glowing from her eyes. "Are you *sure* this is necessary?" she asked quietly.

Hercules turned to glace at his still unconscious, still bloodstained friend lying on the bed. He looked so pale, but even from a distance he could see no peace on his friend's golden features. "Yes." he whispered more to himself and then turning back to his mother, louder, more sure. "Yes, this is the only way."

"I don't understand this." Alcmene mused giving him the key, shaking her head in bewilderment. "How could Iolaus be a danger to us?"

"I don't really understand it either." Hercules confessed. "But he's going to be fine," he added much more confidently, more to assure himself than his mother "just . . . fine."

The door closed slowly behind Alcmene's retreating presence, Hercules locking it behind her and tucking the key away in the safest place he could find. The gods only knew how Iolaus would behave once he awoke from his imposed slumber, and Hercules knew that if he didn't awaken fighting mad, realizing he was locked up would certainly do it.

Sighing heavily and leaning against the door, he wondered how in Tartarus he was going to get through to his blood crazed friend.

"You could always knock some sense into him the old fashioned way." Ares dark voice purred from behind him.

Hercules didn't even twitch, he'd expected the god of war, especially after Iolaus' rather bloody and vicious performance in Sparta.

"Aren't you going to tie him up?" Ares asked carefully.

"No." Turning around he faced his leather clad brother, letting him see the complete lack of patience he was feeling. "I'm just going to talk to him, keep him from hurting himself."

"Well I honestly do wish you the best of luck." Ares offered. AIf this doesn't work, nothing will, and after what happened in Sparta, you can bet no one will be safe from him for long."

"Especially since he knows where the Hind's blood dagger is, huh Ares?" Hercules asked bitterly.

Ares shrugged non committaly. "You have to admit though, Sparta was incredible. He sure did revel in the bloodshed. If he wasn't such a threat I wouldn't mind him this way. He'd make a great warlord."

Hercules grunted refusing to respond though his mind took him back to that blood soaked moonlit night with the roaring crowds and the brutal fights.

"Do you have any idea how long this will take?" Hercules asked hoping that there was a point to this conversation, a point to his self-control.

"The fever should run at least a few days" Ares said staring at Iolaus' still form as if the mortal were some exotic species under glass. "Then he'll be back to . . . normal. Relatively speaking of course. With all his emotional childhood baggage and guilt. As if a quick apology from 'daddy' who hoped for a better afterlife would make the difference." The god sneered slightly before turning towards his half mortal brother and disappearing in a burst of energy and fire.

It was rising heat within him that brought the hunter back from the darkness. He'd been falling, falling forever and it had been cool, refreshing, soothing and then the surge of fire though his blood had begun again and moaning he forced himself awake, desperate to douse the heat within him.

Opening his eyes groggily he looked up and saw the cloth canopy of a bed. Groaning Iolaus reached up to touch his throbbing jaw gingerly.

Turning his head slightly he could see the shadowed visage of his taller friend in the early morning light, sitting next to him, watching him in silence. Shaking his head he tried to dislodge his fragmented memories but his thoughts were slow and sluggish, the darkness beckoning, but there was a stronger need that hummed through him now that demanded his attention.

Instinctively Iolaus reached with his free hand for his sword but found it was missing along with his hunting knife. Suddenly much more alert, he began to force himself up and voice the foremost worry on his mind.

"Where are my weapons?"

If Iolaus had been himself, he would have caught the sadness in his half mortal companion's eyes. There was no doubt left, Hercules realized painfully, no more excuse for the hunter's behavior. Ares had been right all along.

"Don't you want to know what happened?" Hercules asked quietly.

Iolaus blinked in confusion and propped himself up on one elbow to face his partner hoping the world would make more sense now that he was partway vertical. "Well that's a dumb question. Sure I do."

"Then why ask for your weapons?" The demigod queried.

"I-I don't know." Iolaus stammered feeling his head begin to pound, his blood blazing with every heartbeat.

"We're in Corinth, at the palace." Hercules offered his gaze steadily watching his friend's reactions. "Do you remember what happened?"

Iolaus thought back, eyes on Hercules noting the colored bruise on his jaw. And then it came back to him. The slavers, the accusations in the forest, about murder, about killings, things he *hadn't* done.

"Yeah" Iolaus said slowly, his tone growing fridged, his blue eyes freezing with hurt and anger. "I remember." Sitting up now, the hunter rubbed his jaw, and wondered if he had a matching bruise on his face. Not that it mattered much at the moment.

"Do you remember Sparta?" Hercules pressed ignoring the anger, but feeling the hurt tug at him.

"Sparta? What in Hades are you talking about?!"

"You don't remember that either." The demigod stated still watching for any reaction, any recollection on his friend's face.

Iolaus shook his head and stood up on the opposite side of the bed staring across it eyes snapping in anger. "I'm telling you for the last time, I *haven't* killed anyone! I can't believe you don't trust me!"

"I do trust you. You're my best friend." Hercules countered. "But you're not well. Something's happening to you and-"

"No!" Iolaus cut him off with a swipe of his hand. "You don't believe a word I say. You think I killed Barro and Rinan. What kind of a best friend would think that?"

"The kind that's worried sick about you! Just look at yourself!"

Iolaus stared down at his clothes and almost like de ja vu he found himself covered in dried blood once more. Turning very pale he swallowed nervously suddenly feeling extremely warm, breath coming ragged. It was like some bizarre joke, he thought irrationally, unable to suppress a faint giggle, *I just keep on waking up with blood everywhere.*

"Iolaus." Suddenly as if by magic, Hercules was next to him, hand on his arm. *But wasn't he just over on the other side of the bed?* Iolaus thought weakly. His whole world was spinning completely out of his grasp and the vertigo was making him weak, and thirsty and hot, so hot-

"Iolaus."

"'M hot." he all but gasped in return. "Need- need to get out of here." Stumbling the hunter reached for the door and found it locked. He froze, all of a sudden, horror chilled his bones but only for a moment and then the fire began to smolder behind his eyes.

"W-why is the door locked?" The hunter asked keeping his voice carefully neutral, and perfectly in control when all he wanted to do was scream, and scream, and scream-

For one wild instant, Hercules wanted tor rip the door off its hinges and let his friend run and run and run escaping the monster that fed on blood. But even Iolaus wasn't that fast. Hercules came over slowly and pulled the blond's hand off the doorhandle and led him away from the nonexistent exit.

"I-I've been doing . . . things," Iolaus whispered, voice completely desolate. "I've been-- you think I'm going to . . ." Suddenly he snapped around to face his friend, shaking violently. "NO! I'm not a killer! I'm *not!*"

*Control yourself!* his mind screamed, *control yourself or he'll think your crazy.*

Hercules locked his hands on his friends' trying to calm him. "I know you're not a killer! Listen to me, Iolaus, *listen*. Remember the cavern, remember how you fell and I told you about the goblet of blood?"

Iolaus nodded quickly , closing his eyes.

"Something about the blood is making you do these things, making you loose yourself when fighting, loose control--."

"I don NOT loose control!" Iolaus broke in, anger blazing, pulling out of the demigod's light grasp.

"Whoa! Okay, I'm sorry, wrong choice of words." Hercules apologized quickly eyes wide at the sudden change.

Iolaus suddenly felt very self-conscious of his anger and pulled back inside himself. But his mind betrayed him, everything he said only made his best friend think he was falling apart completely. Falling apart enough for Hercules to lock him up.

"I'm just saying that it's not your fault, none of it is!" Hercules tried to assure his friend.

"So what do we do?" The hunter asked weakly.

"We wait." Hercules answered.

The question Iolaus could not voice lay hanging in the air, almost tangible.

*Wait for what?*

Shivering despite the heat, he found he didn't really want to know.

At first there was a wariness and an awkwardness as if the locked door actually stood between them. Iolaus would not look Hercules in the eye and the demigod didn't press. The hunter pulled away from him, pointedly and obviously ignoring his forbidden exit and fell into a chair, leaning forward, resting his throbbing head in his hands, eyes closed, trying to remain calm.

Hercules sat on the window ledge hands clasped together and alternated from watching the city of Corinth and his friend, waiting for Iolaus to speak, to say something.

The sun was reaching its zenith when Iolaus finally began to come alive. Hercules watched as he stood up, and then sat down then stood abruptly again and paced a few steps, and then a few more. In a fitful motion of stops and starts the hunter began restlessly to pace the perimeter of the room, doubling back, refusing to touch anything, eyes fixed only on his feet, except Hercules noted with a lance of pain, when he glared at the locked door.

Finally, Hercules broke the silence playfully. "Iolaus sit down. It's too hot to run in circles. You're making me dizzy."

The hunters head snapped up before the first syllable left his lips, his eyes, darker and feverish locked on his friend's. Iolaus looked down at himself, as if just realizing what he had been doing and then back at the demigod feeling an embarrassed flush creep across his face.

Hercules swallowed unnerved by the wildness in his mortal partner's eyes, but he continued on as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't seen the blush, as if they weren't both locked in a room waiting for all Tartarus to break loose.

"Iolaus why don't you have some water?" he offered trying to be causally about the whole damned situation. Hercules received no response, and anxiously rose and moved closer. Coming within arms length he could feel the heat radiate from his friend's skin like a furnace. Reaching out quickly to the hunter who seemed to be made of stone the demigod shook him gently. "Iolaus? Can you hear me? Are you even there?" he finally asked sorrow filling his eyes. "Where are you my friend?" he whispered more to himself than Iolaus.

With a start Iolaus' head rose, eyes wide, pupils dilated even in the bright light. Ignoring Hercules he looked around as if seeing where he truly was for the first time.

"Iolaus?"

"I-I need to leave." The hunter murmured in return. AI need to leave now." He moved toward the door, his mind gripped with sudden purpose, with a sudden solution for the confusion and heat that blanketed his mind.

"Iolaus, it's locked." Hercules reminded him softly "You can't leave."

The blond stopped in his tracks, but did not turn. "I need to leave." he repeated like a comforting mantra.

"Iolaus, you'ye burning up, lay down and just try to relax." The demigod reached out to lead his friend back to bed when Iolaus suddenly lashed out. Twisting suddenly and taking the blow on his gauntlet Hercules sighed, a feeling of resignation filling him.

Iolaus turned slightly, face a cold mask barely containing a growing rage. "Enough of this. I need to leave. Now." he hissed. "Open the door and give me my weapons."

"You know I can't do that Iolaus." Hercules explained quietly.

"I said open the door and give me my weapons!" the hunter thundered in response.

"No."

Letting out a scream of protest Iolaus wheeled around and smashed the pitcher of water to the floor and then destroyed the table and shredded the tablecloth with his fury.

"Feel any better?" Hercules asked conversationally.

"You can't keep me here! You can't lock me up like-like some disobedient child." Iolaus seethed. "Let Me OUT!"

"Why Iolaus? Explain it to me." Hercules demanded. "Explain to me why you need to leave, why you need your sword and knife."

"They're mine." Iolaus stated in a strangled voice. "*Give* them to me."

Hercules shook his head slowly, moving closer to his wary friend. AYou don't need them now. You need to rest until this passes. My friend, listen to me, please." He proffered his hand to the blond imploringly.

"I need them. I need them. I need . . ." the hunter pleaded willing to do and say anything to get what he unreasonably craved.

"Need what?" the demigod pressed, trying to understand just what was going through his partner's head.

"Every, every part of me . . . screams." Iolaus began haltingly. "Like it does in battle. Screams for- for something to . . . I have to--"

"I can't let you fight Iolaus, it'll only make it worse. I can't let you kill!"

"Kill?" Iolaus repeated with a bitterly cold intensity. "That wasn't killing. That was competition. That was defending the weak. That was giving trash its just reward."

Internally Hercules all but cheered at hearing his friend finally admit and remembered all he'd been doing, but he replied accusingly, hoping to aggravate a stronger response from his friend in hopes that he would talk about what had happened, start *thinking* about it, and it would burn this insanity out of him.

"I don't care how you rationalize it! You're not thinking clearly! You're not in control of yourself anymore Iolaus."

"A warrior is always in control!" The hunter countered darkly, eyes burning.

"Yeah well maybe Spartans are and maybe your father was, but You're Not One Of Them!"

It was a low blow, unworthy of their friendship Hercules knew, and it hurt as much to say those words as it must have to hear them, but he didn't care. It would have to hurt to get through this, and the sooner they stopped beating around the bush the better.

Iolaus pulled back as if slapped, and for a second Hercules could have sworn Iolaus, the old Iolaus was there in those blue eyes, horror and heart aching misery shining through them. And at that sight, imagined or real, the son of Zeus felt a stab of guilt rip through him and he irrationally wondered again why he couldn't just let his friend leave and spare him the pain. But it was fleeting and almost unreal and then the hatred and fury engulfed the hunter.

"I am ten times the warriors they are!" Iolaus spat. "And I'm a *HUNDRED* times the man he was!!" he roared lashing out with a kick to the demigod's ribs.

Hercules deflected the blow as best he could, noting with sadness that this wasn't some halfhearted attempt. Iolaus attacked full on, using all the tricks at his disposal, and even though Hercules knew the hunter's fighting style well that didn't stop the mortal man from getting in a few rib cracking hits.

The demigod didn't fight back, only defended himself, choosing and using his words as his weapons, somehow more sharp than even a sword immortally forged.

"A hundred times better huh? And how do you prove it Iolaus? How? By slaughtering people unfeelingly, feeding some base desire?"

"Shut-up and FIGHT!"

"You were far better trained than Barro and Rinan, no matter what they thought. All those tricks you'd learned in the East. And those slavers and the mercenaries?-- You killed them too didn't you? --they were unsuspecting and you used that to your advantage to beat them."

It wasn't true. It turned Hercules' stomach just hearing the words. Iolaus had amazingly fought fair in the arena despite the blood. But the truth of his actions wasn't going to be much use if Iolaus went mad. So Hercules surpressed his disgust and pressed on.

Screaming wordlessly Iolaus threw another punch and Hercules caught his fist in his holding him still.

"You had the advantage, you were the aggressor." he continued on relentlessly. "You were the strong one, and because they didn't respect you, because they insulted you, you killed them. And you would have killed that boy in Sparta too for what he said."

"YES!" Iolaus screamed struggling in his grasp "Yes I would have gutted him like a fish for what he said! I won in the arena! I WON!"

"By killing a downed man after the fight was technically over." Hercules lied feeling sickness and bile rise in his throat as he did, pressing hard, refusing to leave it at that. "Is that the price of victory?"

"Yes it is!" Suddenly the hunter stopped trying to pull away, instead moving closer with every word. "You have to fight, and hit, and claw to win! You have to stop feeling and kill and kill and KILL to gain their respect!"

"And in doing that you were better than Skouros, is that it Iolaus?" Hercules demanded harshly digging for the root of the problem. "Killing without passion, lording and threatening the weak *Just Like Him* makes you better than your father?"

Shaking his head Iolaus started to back up and this time Hercules let him "no . . . " he whispered in denial. "no, I'm nothing like him. I was going to earn their respect, I was not going to-to . . ." Iolaus closed his eyes as he brought his hands to press against his head, a strangled sob escaping his lips, and all Hercules could do was watch his heart breaking at the pain he was inflicting on his friend, his brother.

*This is not happening!* something inside the hunter screamed hysterically. *This is not happening. I did not grow up to become Him!*

Clenching his teeth, desperately trying to force back the stinging tears he felt forming behind his eyes, Iolaus heard the old taunt ring though his fevered head.

*Crybaby! Crybaby!*

Screaming in fury he plowed into the demigod sending both of them sprawling, knocking over the weapons chest at the foot of bed that sprang open and there before him, right within reach was his sword. Suddenly remembering even in his anger how it had happened in the arena, Iolaus didn't even go for the sword, instead sitting up he struck out at a dazed Hercules once, twice--

Then reaching out, the hunter grabbed the blade bringing the hilt to his chest, holding the sword vertically and raised it high above his head.

"Go ahead Iolaus." a voice quietly intruded the blood madness, and he looked down to see Hercules laying there, face bruised, eye swollen but calm, unresponsive to the threat. "Kill me, it's what you *need* isn't it? The blood, the control, the victory. Prove you're the better man, Iolaus. Go ahead and do it."

With his whole body shivering- or was it trembling? Iolaus let out a bloodcry and drove the blade down.

The sword easily pieced its target, and screaming Iolaus reared up and slammed the blade home again and again and again until his muscles ached and sweat dripped from his forehead, and his body became wracked with spasms and still he couldn't, wouldn't look at his friend's eyes, unflinching as he somehow knew they were as the blade missed impaling itself between them, striking the floor a mere whispers breath away.

He could feel them watching him, trusting him, filled with sympathy and pain for him.

But he couldn't do it. He *couldn't* kill him.

To kill Hercules, to kill his best friend, his *brother,* to prove himself the bigger man, would mean becoming his father.

Raising the sword one more time, Iolaus hesitated, cracking, breaking, shattering inside, no longer able to hold back the betraying strangled sob from escaping his lips. The blade dropped from his nerveless fingers and the weight of his actions, the guilt, joined with the blood heat crashed down on him like a ton of rock.

Hercules sat up and reached out with a soft sound of his own heart breaking towards the tortured hunter, willing to do anything to ease his pain.

Clenching his fists to his temples Iolaus shook his head violently, shrinking from the touch, wishing more than anything that this would just end. Struggling against the bloodlust within him Iolaus moved away from his partner and tore through the room like a whirlwind, destroying everything he could get his hands on. Somewhere in the process he tore off his vest and his gauntlets. He shredded cloth, and smashed furniture. He upended everything and then moved toward the window, gasping for air.

Hercules watched in helpless horror stunned at the depths of rage and misery that gripped Iolaus. But he made no move to stop him as he rose to his feet.

Iolaus sagged wearily against the window ledge gulping in air like a landed fish. But it wasn't enough, the air, the destruction, it *wasn't* enough!. His insides screamed for blood, for victory, for strength over the man he had just beaten but not killed. It demanded blood, nothing else would do, and it would have it one way or the other, the hunter realized with a desperation unknown. It was only a matter of time before he succumbed to it.

*Like father, like son* he thought brokenly. *Each proving their worth by hurting others.* Letting out a cry of despair, Iolaus smashed both his hands through the heavy glass windows that shattered and fell in a thousand jagged sunlit bloodstained pieces.

"Iolaus!" Hercules rushed forward, pushing aside smashed table legs and chairs in an effort to reach his friend.

But the hunter didn"t listen. He slumped to his knees amid the shards of glass, knuckles white where he gripped the ledge above him and slowly, forcefully, and very very deliberately he began to slam his forehead into the stone edge in time to his throbbing head.

"IOLAUS!" Hercules grabbed hold of his friend's shoulder and with more force than he'd planned, yanked him away from the now bloodstained wall. "Iolaus, just what in Tartarus do you think you're *doing*?!"

Putting his arms quickly and securely around his partner he dragged him over to bed before actually looking at it and remembering that Iolaus had gutted it and the feathers were everywhere. Abandoning that idea with a sigh he sat them down on the largest piles of cloth and feathers, ruined blankets and pillows, leaned up against the bedframe and turned his attention to his dazed and semiconscious friend.

"Iolaus? Come on buddy, talk to me!" His hands and wrists were cut, just barely missing any major veins, there was a hairline cut above one eye that was bleeding, and a mass of bumps, and most defiantly a concussion but Hercules could see no permanent damage in fact, the hunter actually seemed slightly more lucid.

"No . . ." he mumbled struggling out of the demigod=s protective grasp "Go `way."

"I'm not going anywhere Iolaus." Hercules informed him gently "I'm staying right here."

"Can't . . . hurts--" he began disjointedly pulling away a little only to lean over and curl up on the floor and press his face against the cold stone ground. "Hurt you." he finally explained, starting to shake from low, hard, body-racking sobs. He clenched his bloodshot eyes shut, but still the salty tears escaped. He tightened his arms across his chest squeezing as if to crush his own heart. "Go *away* . . . Please."

Strong hands, an achingly familiar touch; Iolaus moaned and tried to shake it away and bury himself in the floor. But the soothing presence was still there, leaning over him, hands cool on his back.

"I'm not leaving Iolaus. I'm not going anywhere." Hercules repeated his promise simply. Reaching out he lifted Iolaus up slightly.

"NoOoooo!" the hunter protested with a broken sob struggling to pull away. But Hercules could be just as stubborn when he wanted to and he took his brother in his arms, holding him tight as he fell apart in his grasp.

*Gods! Why wouldn't Herc just listen!?* He was tearing apart inside, he could feel his control slipping, could feel the red hot nails claw through his brain speaking sweet promises of blood and respect. He didn't want to hurt his best friend! Why wouldn't he just *leave?*

"Don't, don't want . . . to hurt you." Iolaus gasped between sobs, pushing away the gentle touch. "Please, please--!"

"You're not going to hurt me Iolaus." Hercules said brushing away hot tears from his friend's cheek. "You're not going to hurt anyone. Shh now. Rest."

Iolaus found he was too dizzy, too disoriented to move much anymore and gave up and just floated on what seemed like an ocean of lava, clinging precariously to a raft that even now burned away beneath him.

Hercules held onto his friend rocking his fevered body as if Iolaus was one of his lost children. He all but burned with the inferno within him, bleeding profusely from his head wound. Hercules suppressed a painful sigh. Iolaus had wanted him to leave, to protect him, to keep him safe while the hunter rode out the blood wrath. Even deranged and delusional, Iolaus still though only about the demigod's well-being and Hercules felt humbled to have such a friend. And guilty since he was the one who spilt the goblet of blood in the first place, and now here he was tormenting his brother with memories the hunter would have gladly cut from his soul rather than talk about. As he watched the afternoon wane away and the sun set, Hercules knew, no matter how hard and exhausting and painful this first day had been, given their luck the second could only be worse.

The demigod's fears had proven more than true. Iolaus had regained some sense by the time the moon had finally set in the depths of the early early morning and had extracted himself silently from his friend's grip only to stagger towards the door and start clawing and pounding at it like some trapped animal screaming, and screaming and screaming. Hercules had hovered behind him feeling helpless despite his vaunted strength, but did not intervene, until Iolaus attempted once more to hurt himself by slamming into the unyielding door.

Pulling his still howling friend away as gently as he could, Hercules could only hold him, whispering nonsense soothing words, hoping and praying that somehow in his fevered state Iolaus would understand and at least know he was here.

Finally the hunter's voice became nothing more than a hoarse croak of suffering that the demigod barely could understand much less fathom.

"It's going to be all right, Iolaus. I'm here, I'm right here." Hercules crooned as after an eternity of waiting the mortal warrior quieted, torturously pulling in air as if every breath was a struggle.

"Herc. . ." Iolaus said in the thinnest of whispers.

"I'm here." he replied simply, holding his soul brother close.

"I-I think I'm going to be sick . . ." the hunter admitted weakly. Glancing around the room quickly, Hercules miraculously found some bowl that Iolaus hadn't utterly destroyed. Holding him steady, the demigod waited and watched as everything came up violently. Coughing and gasping Iolaus heaved again and again even though his stomach was empty until finally he collapsed in his partner's grasp, a cold sweat bathing his fevered skin.

"Y-you're still here. . ." Iolaus mumbled brokenly, bracing himself on his hands and knees.

"Mmm Hmm." Hercules murmured in agreement.

"But-"

"But what?"

"I was going to kill you. I was going t-to kill you . . . just to watch the blood flow out a-and the light . . . die in your eyes." The hunter confessed hoarsely.

"But you didn't, and I'm still here." Hercules countered gently placing a hand on his partner's shoulder.

"Y-you were right." Iolaus admitted mournfully. "I killed Rinan and Barro, I killed and . . . and I didn't care." He glanced over at Hercules, eyes filling with stinging tears. Cursing he swiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "Gods, he was right."

"Your father?" Hercules asked carefully, not really sure if he liked the direction this conversation was taking, remembering painfully what kept happening whenever Skouros was mentioned.

Iolaus nodded pushing himself off his hands and knees rising slowly, ignoring the demigod's outstretched hand "He was right about everything. Crybaby, weakling, worthless runt . . ." He grasped his forehead eyes filling with despair and hatred. "I could never live up to his standards! I couldn't even win for him!

"Wait a second Iolaus! Listen to yourself!" Hercules put in angrily, not so much a Iolaus but at what twisted thoughts had spawned from Skouros' emotional abuse. "Are you saying it's a personal failure that you *didn't* kill me?"

Iolaus spun around quickly, almost too quickly, nearly losing his balance and toppling over. Hercules barely managed to steady him in time. The hunter stared at his friend eyes wide, black pupils nearly blotting out amazing blue.

"No!" he denied quickly, shaking his head and regretting it. "But why?" Iolaus pleaded desperately "Why could I never please him? I-I would do *anything-*"

"He asked too much Iolaus." Hercules insisted. "If hardening your heart, killing without passion, without regret, callously is the price for his respect, it's too much! You've got to stop trying to live up to this ideal that is against everything that you believe in!"

Iolaus was taken aback by the harshness, and closed his eyes for a moment irrationally refusing to let go. "He was my father Herc. H-he was everything to me. I only w-wanted-"

"Iolaus" Hercules said gently, trying to stop his babbling.

" --wanted to be close to him, to be respected. He was--"

"Iolaus!" more insisted now, voice tinged with worry as he watched tears trickle unnoticed down those tortured features.

"-who I wanted to be just like when I was little. You just don't understand, you just don't-"

"IOLAUS!" Hercules shook him to finally get his attention. AI do understand! You loved him and he . . ."

"Yes." Iolaus admitted, nodding his desperate agreement frantically, hysteria touching his words as he started shaking, voice breaking. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes I loved him, and he . . . he . . . A the hunter trailed off and seemed to wither before the demigod's eyes.

"Say it Iolaus." Hercules pressed gently, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Say it."

"He *HATED* me!" Iolaus roared furiously pushing Hercules away. "He HATED me! He wished I'd never been born! He said he'd never been more disgusted in his whole life than when he saw me! He LEFT because of me!" He took several deep breaths running his hands through his already disheven hair. "I loved him when I was little, I wanted nothing more than to be just like him. My father, the general! I tried *so* hard at the summer competitions," Iolaus confessed and Hercules knew instinctively he wasn't talking about two days ago, but years ago, obviously before they had met.

*Ah* Hercules thought, heart aching for Iolaus. *So this is the memory Gaia's blood is feeding off of. This is the one he tried so very very hard to forget.*

"I beat everyone Herc. All of them taller than me." Iolaus announced with a rare half bitter smile and Hercules returned it sadly, only imagining what that must have meant to him as a boy. "I won *without* killing, and it wasn't enough! He took the laurel away, I never even got to touch it and there in the middle of Sparta he yelled at me for crying 'cause it hurt. He *humiliated* me in front of everyone!" The hunter's jaw clenched tight at the memory clenching his fists at his temples as pain lanced through them in hot spikes, nearly doubling him over. "I hated him for that! I hated him for everything! I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM!"

The anguished screams tore from him over and over again and Iolaus collapsed sobbing pounding the ground futilely in his rage, and there as always was his friend, his brother who was beside him, unjudging and comforting, holding him until finally, mercifully darkness claimed him.

Hercules tended to his friend, binding and cleaning his wounds well into the next day. Iolaus lay silent where his partner laid him on a makeshift pallet. His body burned hot to the touch, his golden skin pulled tight across his cheekbones pale and sallow. His eyes were shadowed and dark and Hercules sat by him trickling water on his face and chest and into his mouth from the waterskin.

The fever would not break but just kept rising. And this was no restful sleep either. Iolaus' breath came shallow, and he seemed lost somewhere so deep within himself, Hercules almost obsessively checked to see if he was still alive by placing one large hand over his friend's heart.

The beat was thready and uneven and worried the demigod immensely, but there was nothing to do. The heat was eating Iolaus from the inside out and Hercules did everything he could to lower his friend's temperature, but he didn't dare leave him alone to ask for help from his mother or the palace doctor. Nothing to do but ride it out in isolation and hope for the best.

That evening the silence of his partner weighed so heavily on him that he began to speak to Iolaus imagining, hoping his friend would hear him and come out of this comalike state. Hours into the night Hercules mused aloud about their recent adventures, about their childhood, about their friends and family, about their academy days, everything.

He might as well have been talking to a corpse.

Sighing Hercules shook his head brushing back Iolaus' wayward curls then reaching down to feel his heartbeat. Closing his eyes he sat there, leaning against the rather wreaked bedframe feeling the pulse throughout his whole body. It was soothing in a sense, comforting despite it's irregular rhythm. Exhausted, it easily lulled the demigod into sleep.

Hercules did not wake up as calmly as he had fallen asleep. It was a stray arm across the chest that knocked him awake. He opened his eyes blearily, unsure what day it was in the midmorning light. His eyes quickly sought Iolaus and he found his friend gripped by some horrible seizure that tore through him, cramping his muscles into painful knots.

Terrified by this abrupt change, and cursing himself for not staying awake, Hercules held Iolaus down as gently as he could as the man convulsed in his arms, his body moving without control. The pain must have been immense because feverish eyes snapped open, dilated and frantic. Like some wounded trapped animal, confused, disoriented, and even more frightened than his best friend, Iolaus started screaming.

It was the most frightening sound Hercules had ever heard issued from his friend's lips. This was not the sound of a man enraged or furious, this was the cry of absolute terror.

Hercules held down the hunter as tightly as he dared searching those once clear blue eyes desperately for some sign of his friend, but there was only darkness and fear.

The cries tore from Iolaus in one seemingly unending noise, and even when the seizures finally slowed and stopped, the screams kept on coming. The noise was deafening and Hercules wouldn't have been all that surprised if someone had actually heard them in Egypt and hadn't come pounding on the door yelling at them to shut-up.

The demigod lost track of time as he knelt their holding his brother, stroking his hair in a soothing continues rhythm while the anguished cries rended the very air, breaking his heart. His eyes stung with tears that he refused to let fall as he waited for this all to end.

Finally after an eternity, Iolaus' voice began to give out and the blond hunter lapsed into semiconsciousness moaning occasionally and babbling incoherently and thrashing around feverishly.

"Shh Iolaus. Relax, I'm here." Hercules whispered sitting up some more but not releasing his partner.

The hunter murmuring disjointedly gave no indication that he heard, but tossed and turned in obvious discomfort until at last something seemed to break and coughing and gagging Iolaus sat up suddenly and began to throw up violently.

There was nothing really in the his stomach. He'd barely drunk anything for days, and hadn't eaten really since breakfast at Raitha all those days ago. Hercules held him steady as before, wrapping one arm across the warrior's chest and arms, his free hand holding his head.

Iolaus coughed and heaved and finally, finally he rid himself of the sickness. Blood burning hot to the touch pooled on the floor sizzling and incinerating everything it touched into black ash. It was like lava, Hercules found himself thinking and then realized that in someway it probably was. The lifeblood of the Mother Earth was molten rock. *Now just imagine having that inside you* the demigod thought grimly, pain for his friend clenching his heart tightly.

With a gasp Iolaus' finally stopped heaving and choaking and blinked slowly. Already Hercules could feel the beads of sweat on the hunter's skin; the fever had broken.

The demigod and mortal watched; one mesmerized and horrified, the other barely conscious as the fiery blood sank into the stones of the floor and vanished, reclaimed somehow.

"Iolaus?" Hercules asked quietly still holding onto his friend but shifting him so that they both leaned back next to each other against the rickety bedframe. Reaching around he brought the waterskin to his friend's lips and the hunter rinsed his mouth and drank greedily. The demigod looked anxiously at his dazed friend. "Iolaus, can you hear me? Iolaus?"

The hunter blinked slowly and reached up to wipe some water off of his lip before meeting Hercules" eyes.

''M tired." Iolaus murmured his head falling back onto his friend's shoulder, eyes fluttering closed, exhausted. Smiling contentedly Hercules rested his own head on Iolaus' blond one.

"You're not the only one." he agreed softly with a yawn.

The two heros slept the rest of the day and night away.

Iolaus had no idea what day it was when he awoke, but he found he really didn't care. Sleepily he realized he was using his partner as a pillow but he also notice with a tired smile, so was Hercules. In silence and uncertain fear the hunter closed his eyes and waited for the past few day's memories to intrude and wash over him.

Moaning softly he brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. What had he done?

As gently as possible he pulled away from Hercules without waking him and moved over to the scorched floor. Gingerly he touched the burnt ground finding it still warm from . . . whatever it was. Slightly off to one side he also found the deep indentation in the floor from his sword that lay somewhere in the mess he'd made of the room.

Looking around Iolaus closed his eyes and wished he'd never come out of that sinking black pit in his mind where he'd buried himself in earlier. He didn't deserve to have a friend like Hercules. He didn't deserve to live after what he had done.

"It wasn"t you." a voice intruded softly on his dark thoughts.

Iolaus didn't move, didn't turn around. How could he face the man who'd been like a brother to him for most of his life after what he'd done?

Hercules waited in the heavy silence, only imagining what horrible self-hating guilty thoughts his friend was brooding on. Sighing, he tried again. "Iolaus, look at me."

There was a no-nonsense aspect to his voice that Iolaus found himself obeying without thinking. The hunter turned slightly, still sitting, knees upon the floor. But he would not meet the demigod's eyes.

"It wasn't you." Hercules repeated emphatically.

"That's not true." Iolaus denied voice controlled, but still tremulous and raspy. "It was all me, every bit of it."

"The blood was responsible for your rage, for your actions. It latched onto you and twisted everything inside you. The people you hurt, the mercenaries, Rinan, Barro, the slavers, the other's in the arena. . . It wasn't your fault. I know that. What I said while you were . . . feverish was only to help you remember. But you're not guilty of anything Iolaus!" he told his friend emphatically. "It wasn't murder or in cold blood. You are too much a hero even under the influence of bloodwrath to kill without reason." Hercules countered firmly sitting up, trying to catch those blue eyes with his. The hunter averted his gaze off to the side as the silence stretched.

"I . . . I nearly killed you." Iolaus said voice nearly breaking.

Hercules snorted at the admission. "You nearly killed yourself. You practically bashed your head in to keep from losing control and hurting me. Do you hear that Iolaus?" Hercules asked insistently leaning forward and grasping his partner's shoulder with one hand. "Even out of your mind with bloodlust you still held onto what was right. You still thought only of me, and my well-being. Even after all those lies and accusations. And all I can say is thank you, even though that barely describes what I feel."

The hunter's now blue eyes snapped up suddenly, shining with unshed tears. A slight shy smile touched his lips.

"And if you ever hurt yourself purposefully on my behalf again . . ." The demigod threatened darkly, concern and worry bright in his eyes.

"You'll what?" Iolaus asked his old irrepressibility rising despite the recent trauma.

Hercules grunted and shook his head. "I'll do something, I don't know what, but it'll come to me."

Iolaus let out a faint giggle at the words as he laid down on the surprisingly comfortable stone floor. Hercules leaned back against the sagging bedframe glad that some of the tension between them had been sorted out. Pulling out the last waterskin he drank his fill before tossing it to the hunter who did the same.

"Herc?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think . . . I mean now. . . did I-- am- am I my father?" Iolaus brokenly asked softly staring up at the ceiling.

Hercules waited, patiently watching his friend until blue eyes met blue and with a gentle smile and shake of his head said "No."

Iolaus breathed deeply before staring up again. "I was worried." he admitted.

"I know." Hercules reasoned. "But you don't have anything to be worried about."

"When we spoke, on the Other Side?" Iolaus began quietly addressing his comments to the ceiling, finding it somehow easier to speak to right now. "He said he was sorry for everything. That he meant to come back. And I . . . I stopped blaming him for the choices and things that happened to me. But now, remembering things. . . I can't help but wonder if- if . . ." Iolaus trailed off for a moment, seeming to gather himself and then continued "If he just said it so he could go to the Elysian fields."

"I don't know" Hercules admitted, wishing that he did know, that he could ease his friend's pain. "But I do know" the demigod continued "That any father who was not proud of you and all you've accomplished, doesn't deserve to have you for a son."

Iolaus raised himself up on one elbow and turned to stare at his soul brother, eyes wide and grateful for a long moment before easing himself back down, finding that deep inside him that was enough. The comfort and assurance, unconditional and honest from the man he trusted with his life was enough to ease the pain, now that the wound deep inside of him had been purged so very horribly. Smiling faintly Iolaus closed his eyes and sank back into a peaceful sleep.

"Alcmene, pacing back and forth won't help." Jason soothed grasping ahold of his wife's arm and pulling her gently into a seat next to him.

"But there hasn't been any noise for hours!" she worried wringing her hands.

Jason reached over and pulled them apart kissing them lightly. "I thought you wanted them quiet."

"Of course I did! Who wouldn't after hearing those cries?" She pulled her hands away from her husband's and once more got to her feet. "It's been days!"

Just then King Iphicles entered with his wife Reina on his arm dressed already for another extravagant party. Tomorrow night was Solstice and all of Corinth, indeed all of Greece was already fully geared up for one of the two major festivals of the year.

"Has there been any news?" Reina asked anxiously.

"None." Jason said with a sigh.

'It's been almost a week.' Iphicles mused, brow creased with worry.

"Why don't we go check on them?" Alcmene suddenly asked.

"Hercules locked the door for a reason." Jason countered rising to take his wife in his arms.

"Would knocking on the door really hurt?" she plead. "They must be starving!"

"Well . . ." Jason said and glance over at Iphicles who shrugged.

A faint knocking intruded on Hercules' blissful half doze. This place between sleeping and awake was a place he didn't often get a chance to spend much time in given his rather hectic schedule. But now he drifted peacefully in it until the knock sounded again. He opened his eyes to stare at the door, wanting to ignore it. But, darn it there it was again along with a faint call.

"Hercules?"

He immediately recognized his mother's voice and the worry in the tone, but he honestly didn't think he could move a muscle.

'If you think I'm answering it, you're out of your mind." Iolaus' voice informed him with sleepy determination. 'I'm not moving."

"Well, since you were awake first," Hercules countered closing his eyes again, "Maybe you should."

"She's not my mother." Iolaus playfully retorted yawning mightily.

"I'll remind you of that the next time we're at her house for dinner."

Iolaus snorted irreverently and stretched like a cat. "Well one of us has to do it. And since I don't have the key . . ." the hunter trailed off meaningfully.

Letting out a pathetic sigh which set his partner giggling Hercules rolled to his feet stepped over Iolaus and started looking for the key.

"Maybe you should get up too. We don't want my mother thinking you're dead." Hercules teased as he tried to remember where he hid the damn key.

Groaning theatrically Iolaus got to his feet swaying slightly. That, Hercules knew, wasn't faked and he steadied his friend with a hand under his elbow.

"Thanks." Iolaus offered.

Hercules handed him his discarded vest and gauntlets with a smile, which the mortal quickly donned over his bandages. Then Hercules reached for his beltpouch and pulled out the green amulet that Iolaus always wore around his neck, bloodstained as it was. Hesitantly Iolaus reached for it and after a moment hung it in its customary place.

Iolaus moved over to the door and leaned beside it as he watched his partner turn circles around the room as the knocking became more insistent.

"You don't know where the key is, do you." Iolaus stated with an evil grin.

Attempting to glare the irreverent hunter into silence, Hercules was rewarded with giggle. Running his hands through his hair, unable to suppress a chuckle of his own Hercules sighed again and moved towards the door gripping the door handle prepared to tear off the whole thing, hinges and all when the hunter's hand stopped him.

"Isn't that a little extreme?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you want to eat?" Hercules countered.

"Let me help." Iolaus offered after a beat, suddenly switching his grip from the demigod's forearm to the handle.

Smiling again the two ripped the door off to find Iphicles, Reina, Jason and Alcmene on the other side. The four stared in wide eyes amazement at the two men and Hercules realized that they must look absolutely horrible.

Iolaus however didn't care. "Is there anything to eat?" he asked promptly. Alcmene blinked once. "Never mind." the hunter said with a smile. Kissing a stunned Alcmene on the cheek and slapping Jason on the back he headed off down the corridor towards the kitchen.

Iphicles and Reina leaned over and stared in amazement at the ruined room. Jason watched Iolaus go shaking his head in wonder. Alcmene looked on after the hunter and then back at her son, then at the room behind him and then back at her son.

"What-? Why-? How-?" she sputtered not understanding any of this.

Trying hard not to laugh Hercules shrugged and kissed his mother as well and then hurried to catch up with Iolaus.

Epilogue~~~~~~

Solstice was a perfect, filled with revelry unbound on this the longest day of the year and the beginning of summer. Iolaus and Hercules toured the sights and sounds with Alcmene, Jason, Iphicles and Reina but both heroes were definitely not as active as they would have been. Both men were sore and bruised and while they wanted to, didn't take part in any of the sporting events after Alcmene's iron forbiddance.

There was plenty of food and drink and friends. Xena and Gabrielle were there. So was Salmoneus. Iolaus was sure he'd seen the King of Thieves wandering around, and Hercules caught sight of more than a few of his divine siblings.

They returned to the palace in the early evening, the sun still shining and prepared for the night's banquet. Dressing in his room, Iolaus quickly buckled his belt when a knock sounded from the adjacent chamber. Hercules poked his head it and the hunter waved at him to come closer as he slipped on his royal purple vest Alcmene had chosen for just the occasion.

"Almost ready Herc."

"Iolaus, a messenger came." Hercules said.

Maybe it was the way he said it, or the tone but Iolaus froze, irrational fear tugging at him.

"Yeah?" he asked carefully. "Who was it?"

"Not who," Hercules corrected. "What."

Iolaus sat on the edge of his bed pulling on his boots. "What then?" He asked purposefully distracting himself, not looking at his friend. Suddenly something green was thrust into view. Slowly Iolaus reached up to take it from the demigod's hands.

It was a laurel. A laurel of victory. The highest prize a warrior could achieve in the games.

Pulling out a scroll, Hercules read; "To the warrior Iolaus of Corinth and Thebes we award this laurel in honor of his singularly superior skill as a warrior." Quickly the demigod rerolled it and handed it to his friend with a smile. "Well you can say one thing about Spartans, they get to the point."

"Hmpf." Iolaus said with a smile running his fingers over the fragrant leaves, before placing it carefully, almost reverantly on his bedside table. "Ready to go?" he asked his taller friend.

"Yep." Hercules nodded as Iolaus rose, and place his arm around his shoulder and hugged his friend briefly with a grin. "Let's go celebrate."

The end

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