Disclaimers: Not my characters, except for Dionysus and Demophon, and they're from mythology, which kinda begs the question of ownership of the other characters - I know one thing - they sure ain't mine, and I'm not making any money by writing about their lovely little tushies. Oh, and my version of Demeter was born before I found out that they'd done her on the show. I like mine, better, but you wanna stay on her good side, no question.

The views expressed by Demeter are hers; please don't send me mail bombs- take it up with the Goddess.

H/I, and a couple of other pairings - watch for Ares and Hades
M/M sex, less frequently than usual, but certainly graphic
NC-17
There is some death, but stay tuned

Persephone trod lightly across the withered meadow surrounding her mother's dwelling.

Something was wrong.

The land she'd just crossed was as sere and barren as that before her. Her passage had not birthed wildflowers and rustling grasses. She was here, the herald of Spring, but Spring did not follow in her wake. The air was chill, and dry, and she shivered as a ghostly gust of wind snatched at her thin, silken robes.

The courtyard of her mother's house was still. The fountains stood dry, and silent. Naked corpses of trees and plants stared at her accusingly, and she shivered once again, pushing open the doors to the main house. No garlands of wheat and corn, no vessels bursting with blooming plants, no splash and trickle of sweet water. Frozen, pitiless silence.

"Mother?" Her voice didn't quaver; she was, after all, a goddess.

No answer.

She wandered the empty corridors to her mother's rooms. All was dusty, and silent.

"Mother? What ever is wrong?"

Demeter was sitting in the window seat, staring out at the bleak landscape. Her golden hair hung in lank, tangled streams to her generous hips. Her wheat-colored gown was rumpled, and dirty. She turned at the sound of Persephone's voice, but no welcoming smile lit her wan face.

"My beloved Persephone. Come, sit with me."

Persephone obeyed, gracefully settling herself at her mother's side.

"Mother. Why do you still mourn? It is Spring. I am here."

"Sweet Persephone. You've always been such a joy to me. Your laughter is the summer breeze, your lovely face carries the blush of the blooming flowers. Never did I forsee that you would be stolen from my side and taken to a place where there is no life, no hope."

"But, there is hope, in Hades' realm. There is love, and laughter, and beauty."

"Because you carry those things with you, my child. By raping you, Hades raped the good Earth, Herself," Demeter sighed, and brushed a dusky, errant lock from Persephone's glowing brow, "It is the way of things. Women make the sacrifices, and men ... men take them as their due. Arrogant, selfish, uncaring beasts."

"No, Mother. Men place their own lives at risk every day, to protect their families."

"And, why must they place their lives at risk? Are there bands of marauding maidens plaguing the land? Women who steal, and rape, destroying everything in their path? Women who take advantage of every weakness of body, every breach in the defenses of an intended victim?"

"There ... there are the Amazons."

"Indeed. Women who have chosen to protect themselves, to build and uphold their own laws, their own codes. Sometimes, a misguided soul takes them in her hand, and terror ensues. Surely, my daughter, you would admit that this is the exception, rather than the rule. Yet, every time a maiden is taken to wife, she gives up her family, gives up her innocence, and lays herself down in her husband's bed, sacrificing herself to him, although she loses thereby all that she is, all that she has known. Although she risks her own death, in bearing children. Childbirth is as bitter and bloody a battle as any that men wage, yet when was the last time you heard a bard singing praises of a woman who survived it? How many men are lauded for the blood they spill? The blood they lose at another man's hands? Doesn't every woman bleed eternally, from a wound dealt her at birth? The moment their blood begins to flow, they are claimed by men, used by men. Sold, by their
loving fathers. Killed, by their loving husbands. The blood of women means nothing to men but a means to prove their own power, to further their own plans, to carry on their own names."

Persephone was silent for a long moment, studying her mother's ravaged face. She knew her mother's life. Persephone's birth. Her subsequent abduction. Demeter's rape, perpetrated by her own brother, Poseidon, while the great Goddess wandered the Earth, grieving, vulnerable, searching for news of her vanished daughter. Knew of the children Demeter had borne as a result of that rape, knew their fates. The
poison of Demeter's suffering had penetrated to the beneficent Goddess' soul, tainting her with bitterness. Robbing the Earth of Her fruitfulness.

"Please. Tell me how I can help you. Anything. I'll do anything to bring you joy, again."

Demeter laughed painfully.

"Yes. I know that you would do anything. Anything at all, to help. It isn't your sacrifice that I require, my daughter. You've already sacrificed yourself to Hades' lust. What has he sacrificed?"

"Well .. six months of the year, I return to the Land of the Living. It causes him such pain, such grief, but he lets me go. Isn't that a sacrifice?"

"No. He took you from me, Persephone. It is not a sacrifice for him to return to the Earth that which is already Hers. He must prove to me that he is worthy of your love. He must prove to me that he is worthy of the sacrifice you have made, by dwelling among the Dead for half of your immortal life. When he has given up one whom he loves, as I have, Spring will return to the land. Until then, the Earth will remain barren."

"But, the mortals will suffer. They will starve, and die. It's not fair!"

"Fair? Tell your husband that he must give his love into my hands and sacrifice his heart, to prove himself worthy of you. Then, and only then, will justice be served." Demeter vanished in a flurry of golden corn kernels. Persephone stood and lifted one, weighing it in her palm. Dry, and barren. Like the Earth herself.

"Excuse me?"

Persephone whirled.

"Who dares enter the Palace of Demeter?" Persephone's voice rang with power, and she drew the gravity of her experience among the Dead around her like a dark cloak of warning. She raised her hand to destroy the puny mortal who had dared to invade her mother's privacy, but faltered as she studied the man before her. Fear blazed in his fine, blue eyes, but his stance was strong, and sure. His skin glowed like sweet cream, and his brown hair curled thickly to his broad shoulders. Beautiful.

"Please, forgive the intrusion, Goddess Persephone; my name is Demophon." His voice was as sweet as summer rain, the lips that formed the words soft, and inviting.

Demophon. He had been Demeter's charge, while she was masquerading as a mortal. She had nursed him at her bosom, and would have given him immortality, had his mother not seen Demeter dipping the babe into the fire, and screamed with fear. Demeter had revealed herself as a Goddess, and left the family, and Demophon's chance for immortality left with her.

Persephone's dark eyes mirrored her thoughts, and a fine blush tinted Demophon's cheekbones.

"I've been concerned. The winter has been so harsh, and the last harvest was scarce. People are beginning to starve, and it looked as though Spring would not come. I was afraid that something had happened to ... well, I wanted to be with Demeter if ... if she needed comfort. I know she must want to be with you, please tell her that I was here." Demophon spoke respectfully, but bravely, and Persephone warmed further to the lovely, young mortal.

"You are brave, Demophon. I see kindness in you. Go back to your people. You cannot help."

"Can't help? What's wrong? You're here - Spring will follow."

"Demophon, my mother has drawn Winter around her like a shroud, and she looks to my lord Hades for restitution. If she does not receive it, her hand will be withdrawn from the Earth forever. I don't know that it is within Hades' power to grant what she requires of him. Perhaps, your people should leave this land, search for other, less capricious Gods." Persephone sunk to the window seat, huddling around herself in sorrow. A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and she looked into Demophon's quiet eyes.

"Let me help you, Persephone. Please. Let me speak to Hades on behalf of the mortals, and on Demeter's behalf, as well."

"Ah, if only my mother could hear you. Then, perhaps she'd realize that men ...," Persephone smiled, and touched his cheek, reflecting that he was, indeed, uniquely suited to represent both the interests of the mortals, and Demeter's pain. "I applaud your courage, and your loving heart, but I can't let you go, Demophon. The Underworld is no place for a living man."

"Yet, eventually we all dwell there. I would face even the God of the Underworld, for the sake of mankind, and for that of Demeter."

"What of womankind, Demophon? It is the plight of women that Demeter mourns; to her suffering mind, I am only a symbol of the injustice which has always been the lot of mortal females."

"How ... how can Hades made restitution for all mortal women? I don't understand."

Persephone sighed with resignation.

"Neither do I. Come. The entrance to the Underworld is not far from here. I will take you to a safe place, while I tell Hades what I must. If the mortals require someone to champion them before him, I will bring him to you. Follow me closely; the way is narrow."

*******************************************************************************************
"Honey!" Hades gasped, trumphantly.

"Honey?" his lover murmured through kiss-swollen lips.

"Yes," Hades purred, "honey. I've been trying to put my finger on it for ages."

"Oh, is that what you've been doing?" His lover captured one of the god's hands, and sucked on each finger in turn, nibbling and growling softly in the back of his throat as he did so, "I was wondering why your hands wandered so. You may have been trying to put your finger on it, but I must tell you that you have an alarming tendency to put your finger in it rather frequently, as well."

Hades' greeted this sally with a series of quite shattering kisses, while his hands took up their habit of wandering over ivory flesh, and if, perhaps, one or two of his slender digits did implore, and receive entry into his lover's body, no one seemed to be inclined to protest.

"Mmmmm. Yes. Your mouth tastes quite distinctly of honey. Makes a nice contrast to the saltiness of one of your other best attributes."

"Ah, so you're a gourmand, now, are you? You've tasted quite a bit of the honey; maybe it's time for a lick of salt?"

Hades looked into the darkening, blue eyes for a long moment.

"I've got a better idea," he whispered against his lover's warm throat.

"Oh? Have you. Oh, yes, just there. Yes, there!" The smaller man's muscular frame rippled, as he strove to reverse their positions. He wanted to be on top of Hades. Wanted to tease him, to taste him, to love him. Wanted to watch Hades' beautiful face; the cat green eyes glowing with pleasure, the soft, pale lips begging for his kisses.

Hades held him down easily.

"Yes. I think I want to taste the honey and the salt at the same time."

His lover greeted this proposal with a toss of silken hair.

"I'm limber, Hades, but not quite that limber." A twist, and he was straddling Hades' hips, grinning down at him happily.

Hades returned the grin, and cupped his hand. A small, golden urn appeared in his palm, and he tilted it over his lover's turgid cock. A slow, thick, amber stream drizzled from the tiny chalice, sliding down the hot flesh eagerly. Hades took advantage of his lover's surprise, turning him deftly, and nestling between strong, pale thighs to lap at the warm, sticky substance. His tongue traced each drop, lingered over each vein.

"Oh, what you do for the flavor of honey, my love," he nibbled along the burning cock bobbing before his nose, then pushed himself up, reaching for the little urn. "Let's just see what this tastes like ..."

His lover's nipples were anointed, and carefully licked clean. Then, the tiny pool of his navel was filled, and slowly emptied. He was moaning, crazed with need when Hades finally pushed his knees up to his chest, and drank the honey from the tiny, puckered opening between the glistening globes of his buttocks.

"Gods! Hades, please, please! Now!"

Hades, always responsive to a fervent prayer, steadied his thick, aching cock with a trembling hand, guiding it into his lover's body, moaning as iron legs locked around his chest. His nipples burned against the backs of his lover's thighs, and he dipped his head to taste the sweet mouth, thrusting ever more urgently into the endless, velvet channel. Yes, beautiful. Hot, tight, strength, and vulnerability. The song of his lover's soft, sweet cries, the urgent, yet tender clasp of his arms around Hades' shoulders. The tickle of golden hair against Hades' cheek as he buried his face in that gorgeous throat. All of it was balm to his aching soul. So fine, to be loved like this. So fine. So rare. The lithe body tightened around him, under him, the glowing streams of his lover's completion bathed his belly and Hades was coming and he was weeping with it, laughing with it, his spurting cock lodged deep, deep, oh Gods, so deep...

So sweet, to curl around his sweaty, tousled darling, to let the tender lassitude carry him into dreams.

"Hades?"

His eyes flew open, as his sated sleep fell from him like a silken cloak.

"Persephone?" He croaked. He moved ineffectually, as though trying to shield the pale, glistening form of his lover from her soft, brown eyes.

"Oh, my love. I'm so sorry to disturb you, but it needs must. My mother," Persephone broke off, seeing the guilt etched on her husband's flushed features, "Oh, Hades. Please, don't be upset. Did you really think I didn't know?"

"Wha ..." Hades stared at her beautiful, loving face in growing confusion. His lover stirred against him and began to awaken. Was this a nightmare?

Persephone laughed, a sound like silver bells chiming in the soft Spring breeze. One graceful gesture, and she was naked, soft, womanly curves, dark hair tumbling about her gleaming shoulders. Ah, the scent of her. With a giggle, his wife dove onto the bed, curling on the other side of his lover, as that unsuspecting man opened his blue eyes, and nearly shrieked with surprise.

"Persephone? Uh, I can explain. Well, maybe not explain but, I ... I love him, you see, and he's so lonely, and ..."

Persephone stilled the tumbled words with a gentle kiss.

"Hush, now. Don't worry. In fact, I owe you my gratitude; Hades has been so much more ... relaxed when I return each Winter. I was beginning to wonder if my poor body could stand the strain of his loving after six months of abstinence. And, I no longer need fret for the entire length of our separation, since I know that my beloved husband is being properly cherished during my absence."

"Must you speak about me as though I'm not right here?" Hades demanded.

Persephone leaned across the stunned, golden figure between them, and kissed her husband lingeringly. "No. I mustn't. My goodness, but you're both sticky! Whatever have you been up to? No, never mind. I'd love to know, but I bring such dreadful news. It's my mother ..."

Hades' lover slipped from between the nude deities.

"I'll take my leave of you. My Lady," a graceful bow, "My beloved Lord", a lingering, sapphire look, and he was gone.

"He's such a sweetheart, Hades. I must applaud your taste. Oh!" Persephone's lovely features darkened, and her hand flew to her mouth. Hades pulled her against his sticky self, sheltering her in his arms, but tears overcame her, nonetheless. "Oh, Hades! She must mean him! Hades, she means him!"

Hades held her, and soothed her, until her sobbing ceased, and she sat up, with a brave attempt at a smile. With a wink at her husband, she conjured a steaming tub, fragrant with lilies.

"Into the bath with you, sweet Hades. I'll cleanse you as we talk."

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

The leaves danced, swayed, rust red against the brilliant, blue sky. Iolaus tipped his head back, feeding his soul on the sight. Slowly he drifted, melting into the rich earth, slipping into the tree, standing within it, strong, silent in the sun. Sweet rustling, scented wind.

Iolaus drifted in the sensation, the belonging. The sky, the branches, the flowers, and the rich, clinging earth nourished him, embraced him. He was the wind, the heady scent of the jasmine, the joyful call of the darting birds. He lingered until he'd nearly lost his own identity, then freed himself, not without a pang of regret.

The air beside the tree thickened and shimmered, and Iolaus took shape. He stretched like a cat in the sun, yawning widely and smiling at his surroundings, then his gaze narrowed, focusing on the unfamiliar figure approaching him hesitantly.

"Hello? Pardon me, but, where am I?"

Iolaus studied the beautiful young man appreciatively.

"Wow. Nice. Wait a minute, you're alive, aren't you? Boy, are you ever in the wrong place. Charon must be hitting the bottle pretty heavy, these days. You're in the Elysian Fields, my friend. The question is, who are you, and how did you end up here?"

"The Elysian Fields?" The stranger looked around him with increased interest, reaching out to touch a spray of jasmine reverently, "It's beautiful."

"Yeah, it is. Beautiful. Peaceful. No violence, no hunger, no sickness. No fear. Not a lot of excitement, either, for that matter. So, you gonna answer my question, or what?"

"Question? Oh, yes, forgive me. My name is Demophon. And you are ...?"

"Iolaus."

The two men clasped arms, Iolaus grinning sunnily up at Demophon, his head cocked a bit to the side.

"Iolaus of Thebes? The Iolaus? I was saddened to hear of your death. Hercules hasn't been seen in Greece since before you ... before ... we've wondered. Wondered whether he was ... well, whether he was dead, too."

Iolaus smiled again, despite the sadness shadowing his eyes.

"Hercules will never die. I won't stand for it. Come on, I'll show you around, while you explain just how you got here."

He led Demophon along a narrow path bordered by crimson trees. They wound their way along a softly speaking stream, then crossed it and headed steeply up, until they broke out onto a narrow ledge overlooking a waterfall. Iolaus settled himself on a flat boulder, and Demophon sat beside him.

"So. Talk."

Demophon stared out at the water.

"You know that a bride's hair is cut before her wedding?" he asked, with apparent irrelevancy.

"Uh, yeah. So?"

"The cutting of her hair is symbolic. It means that, though she is still technically a virgin, she is no longer inviolate. And, when she appears before her intended husband and removes her veil, she is considered soiled."

"Okaaaaay. And, you're telling me this because ...?"

"Women are valued for their potential to bear heirs. Legitimate heirs. They are judged on their "purity", their beauty, and their wealth. Then, the lucky man who takes the approved treasure, rips the bride's purity from her, assumes her wealth, and most likely destroys her beauty in childbearing. Demeter has been ever more obsessed with the inequity of this ancient arrangement since Persephone was taken from her. She wants justice. She wants Hades to sacrifice one he loves, in exchange for what he has done to Persephone, and to her mother, through her. If she doesn't receive what she asks, her Blessing, which has been withdrawn from the Earth, will never be returned."

"Wait, wait, wait. Hades has to sacrifice one he loves? I guess we can rule out Persephone, so that means ... Oh, shit." Iolaus hit the ground running.

"Wait!" Demophon thundered after him, "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? What's right? I know who Hades loves! This is not good!"

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

Persephone turned away from the window, relinquishing the view of the black, boiling River Styx. Her dear husband's visage, however, was no less dark, no less turbulent.

"Ah, my love. I wish I could ease you. I've told Demophon that he should call his people together, leave Greece. Perhaps, somewhere, they can find a gentler land, kinder Gods."

Hades lifted tormented eyes to hers.

"No. You know that's not the answer. This is where the mortals live. This is where they'll die. All too soon, all at once, if I don't ..., your mother is right, Persephone. I wanted you. I took you. It's not that I didn't care about the consequences. I just didn't think. What it would mean to her. Zeus help me, I didn't even think about what it would mean to you."

"Glory. That's what it meant to me, Hades. Glory. Yes, you took me from the Earth without my consent, but you treated me like the most precious ... I wanted you, too. You know this, my love. You know it. I've tried to tell Mother, but, her life has not been kind. She's never known the sort of love that you've given me. The only love she's ever known is mine, and that of the mortals who worship her. It's just not the same, my Lord. Not the same, at all."

"Does it matter? If I'd just continued to ask her for your hand... kept begging. But, I didn't. And, now I have to give him over to her? I love him, Persephone. Does it come to a choice between him and you, sweet one? I would choose you, and your mother knows it. But, a choice between him and the innocent mortals who live under Demeter's rule? Even if I could ignore them, he never could. Never. He's a sensitive soul, my love. Damaged, wounded, but so brave. So foolishly brave."

Hades paced restlessly around the candlelit chamber, his deep red robes clinging to his strong legs, offering an occasional, tantalizing glimpse of white flesh.

"Even if I sought to hide the truth from him, he would hear. The Dead would grow by leaps and bounds, they'd speak to him, and he'd know that they had died, because I loved him. He would never forgive me, Persephone. Never. Forever together, forever apart." a harsh laugh issued from his lips, "Shit and more shit, eh, my love? But, there is only one answer. We all know it. For your love, I would sacrifice anything. Anything. Even him."

Persephone did the only thing she could. She held the dread Lord of the Underworld, while he wept.

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

Demophon gasped for breath when Iolaus finally skidded to a halt on the bank of a wide, blue lake.

"Iolaus, please. What are we ..." He broke off in mid-sentence, as the man bathing in the lake swam toward them and rose from the water, moving lithely to the shore.

"Iolaus?" Demophon's voice quavered, "He ... he looks just like you."

"Not exactly like me! Come on, I mean, he looks older than me. Doesn't he?"

"Cousin?" The Iolaus lookalike picked up a soft sheet and began scrubbing the water from his smooth chest, "Are you all right? You seem ... agitated."

"Orestes, listen, we've got trouble."

"Trouble?" Orestes finished drying himself, and pulled a silken chiton over his damp head, "What kind of trouble?"

"Big trouble."

"Uh, Iolaus?"

Iolaus turned to Demophon, and grinned contritely.

"Sorry. Demophon, this is my cousin, Orestes. Orestes, Demophon. He's alive."

"Indeed. Why is a living man ... here?" Orestes indicated their surroundings.

"I'm here to plead with Hades, on behalf of the mortals."

"Plead with Hades? For what?"

"Forget it, Orestes. We've gotta hide you, somehow. Now, where would Hades not expect to find you?" Iolaus paced back and forth, his brow furrowed. "I've got it! Tartarus! He'd never think of it - after all, who in their right mind would go to Tartarus voluntarily? Come on!"

Iolaus paused at the line of trees bordering the shore, looking back impatiently.

"What are you waiting for? We've gotta get going!"

"Cousin, I'm not going anywhere, until you explain yourself to me. Why should I wish to hide from my lord? He would never harm me." A gentle smile lit Orestes' blue eyes, and Demophon fought the impulse to turn away from the open vulnerability suffusing his beautiful face.

"Look; normally, I'd agree with you. But, Demeter's on the rampage, and I think you're gonna wind up caught square in the middle of a battle between the Gods. Uncomfortable place to be, I can tell you from experience."

"What has Demeter to do with me, Iolaus?"

"It's more what Demeter has to do with Hades, and what Hades has to do with you. Here's the deal: Demeter has withdrawn her blessing from the land, and she refuses to return it until Hades sacrifices one he loves. You know, to pay him back for taking Persephone from her. Problem is, he loves you, cousin. If he hands you over to Demeter, your goose is cooked."

"And, if he doesn't, the Earth withers, and dies? Is that what you're telling me?" Orestes' sweet voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yes." Iolaus grabbed Demophon's arm, but the young man continued to speak, ignoring the dire threat directed at him from Iolaus' eyes, "She will let the land die, and the mortals with it. Her heart is broken. Persephone was her life. She misses her. Misses her so much."

"Yes. Yes, I see." Orestes sank to a boulder, his eyes fixed on Demophon's fair face.

"You see? What's there to see? I'm not gonna let the Gods screw with you, Orestes. For the love of Zeus, you're dead already! What's a guy gotta do to get a break, anyway?" Iolaus was nearly spitting with frustration.

"It's the only way, Iolaus," Orestes whispered, "the only way."

"My love." The voice was Hades', but it was rich with a gentle timbre which few had ever been privileged to hear.

"Oh, brother." Iolaus sat down on a rock, disgustedly, as Hades and Persephone joined them.

Hades knelt by Orestes, and embraced him, whispering something to him, kissing his pale features, and wet hair. Then, he rose, pulling Orestes up with him.

"I thought I could do it. But, I can't. I can't live without you, my love."

"My lord. You must. You have to give me to Demeter."

"No! No, it's wrong."

Orestes caressed Hades' pallid cheek with a gentle hand.

"Please, my lord. My life was a study in futility. My death was meaningless. You've given me such joy. You've loved me. No one ever loved me before. You listen to me, and no one ever listened to me before. Please, listen now. This is a chance for me to be of use. How could I continue, knowing that all of Greece was suffering, because of me? Isn't that too high a price to pay, even for joy? Even for love?"

Hades pulled Orestes close by way of answer, and drank of his honeyed mouth.

"Such a brave heart, my love. So be it. We will both pay Demeter's price."

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

Hades and Persephone had led Orestes away, but Iolaus remained by the lake, pacing back and forth while Demophon sat, watching him and moodily tossing rocks into the water.

"I'm not going to let it happen! Orestes never had a chance when he was alive, and now that he's finally happy, he's going to stay that way!"

"But, Iolaus; Hades has decided. Orestes is willing. How could you stop them? Why would you stop them?"

"Listen, Demophon, I've had this 'noble thing to do' shit shoveled at me by the best - save your breath. I'm not going to let Greece die, don't worry your pretty little head over that. I'm just not going to let Orestes suffer for it. I'll take his place."

"Take his ... Iolaus, that's impossible."

"What are you talking about, impossible? You said yourself that we look exactly alike!"

"Yes, but ... Hades knows him. I mean, really knows him!"

"Ah, don't worry about it. I can fool Hades. I've done it lots of times. We've just gotta figure out a way to get Orestes out of the way. Let me think ..."

When Iolaus confided his plans to Demophon, the mortal wasn't entirely convinced. But, Iolaus was Iolaus, dead or alive. Demophon found himself swept along in a golden whirlwind, as Iolaus suited action to words.

They found Orestes alone, wandering through a fragrant garden. He was arrayed in a simple tunic of silver, his feet bare, a narrow circlet of silver lilies adorning his wide brow. He smiled at their approach, and extended his arm to Iolaus.

"You are well come, cousin. I wanted to see you, to thank you."

"Thank me for what?" Iolaus took the outstretched arm.

"For not interfering. I know that you want to protect me, but you don't have to. Not any longer."

Iolaus bit back the retort that sprang to his lips. Sheltered, naive - Orestes would always need protecting. He pulled his cousin into a warm embrace. Orestes snuggled trustingly into his arms, and Iolaus had to bite his lip again, feeling like a complete traitor as he shifted his grip and clapped a cloth saturated with lotus over Orestes' mouth and nose. The former king's blue eyes stared at him accusingly, then slowly dimmed, as Orestes surrendered to the drug.

"Hurry. Help me." Iolaus began efficiently stripping his unconscious cousin, then shed his own clothing. Demophon helped him slip the tunic over his head, and brushed and oiled his unruly curls until they matched the smooth, gleaming fall of Orestes' hair. He fixed the circlet about Iolaus' head, and stepped back.

"Well? How do I look?" Iolaus asked, impatiently.

"Beautiful!" Demophon blurted, "I mean, you look just like Orestes. Iolaus, I'm still not sure this is such a good idea."

"Yeah? Well, we'll see, won't we? Come on!"

Iolaus headed for Hades' palace, with Demophon on his heels.

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

Hercules twitched, moaning in his sleep. The wan light from his dying fire cast shadows in his gaunt cheeks, made hollows of his closed eyes.

"Iolaus."

A haunted murmur, a hopeless plea.

Visions tormented him, impaling his sleeping heart. Greece. But, not his Greece, not the Greece he had wandered with Iolaus at his side. The vines, withered and blasted, bore only a few, shriveled grapes. Endless, barren fields, shrunken, frozen streams. Thin, pallid figures moved about listlessly under the pitiless sky.

A figure appeared, walking jauntily across a blasted field. Golden curls shone like a second, warmer sun.

"Iolaus."

It was Iolaus, but not the Iolaus Hercules had held as he gasped out his last, bloody breath. The lines of care had vanished from his lean face, his blue eyes twinkled merrily, unshadowed by hidden grief. His broad shoulders were straight, and proud, his hard body was limber, his smooth skin glowed with vitality.

He stopped at the bank of a shallow, muddy stream. Throwing back his head, he began to sing. Sweet, thrilling tenor notes colored the air, and the hopeless figures around him stopped their slow dance of despair, and moved closer. His song swelled, rich and warm, and the air itself seemed to thicken around him, pregnant with the possibility of life.

He stopped singing, but the sound still vibrated around him, as he pulled a bright blade from the worn sheath at his hip. Hercules recognized that blade, remembered the weight of it, as he hefted it in his hand, and gave it to Iolaus, the brother of his heart, the twin of his soul.

Iolaus turned the blade, and the cold sun blazed on its bitter edge, then, the light was quenched by a dark river of blood. Iolaus' life blood, pouring from the slash he'd carved across his corded throat. It welled, spilled, running down his taut abdomen, splashing to the earth. He smiled, a glorious, loving smile, then fell, his eyes closing, his body limp.

Still the blood flowed, filling the stream, saturating the ground. The earth drank of it, and was nourished by it. Tender, green grass grew beneath his lifeless form, flowers unfurling, filling the air with their fragrance, joining with the lingering notes of his song in a symphony of joy. The fields grew green, then golden with grain; the vines ripened, and deep purple grapes clustered eagerly amongst the glossy leaves, heavy with juice. The stream fed off of Iolaus' blood, swelled, rushed, sang with delight as it flowed to the lakes, the rivers, the seas.

The sky wept over Iolaus' corpse, and everywhere the sweet rain touched, the Earth opened, offering ferns, flowers, food. The trees danced in the healing breeze, and people looked up, then around them, and embraced one another, dancing in the life giving rain.

"He was my hero!" Hercules shouted the words, his throat burning with the force of his love. He tried to run forward, to cradle Iolaus' sodden body close. To take that blade, washed clean now by the rain, and drive it into his own heart.

To be together. That's all he wanted. To be with Iolaus. To hold him, as he'd never held him in life, to kiss the still lips, as he'd done while tending Iolaus' poor, murdered form. The only home for his heart, his body, his soul. Iolaus.

But, he couldn't move, and he started into consciousness next to the ashes of his solitary fire, with Iolaus' name on his lips.

He rose, pulling his rough fur cloak about him.

He had to face it, finally.

He had to go home.

To Greece.

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

Luck was with Iolaus.

Hades was so tormented by grief, that he only raised his reddened, swollen eyes to Iolaus once, immediately turning away from the sight of his silver gilt beauty.

Persephone took Iolaus' hand, and Demophon stepped ahead of them, as Hades led the way out of the Underworld.

The journey was brief. Iolaus watched Hades' set shoulders, longing to go to him, to touch his hand, to ease his pain. But, he knew he'd betray himself if he did so; he kept his voice sweet, and low when he answered Persephone's infrequent questions. He kept his stride narrow, and stately. But, he knew that one glance into Hades' eyes would reveal the truth. The Lord of the Underworld would know that Iolaus was not Orestes, not his lover. Iolaus couldn't let that happen.

Demophon stayed between them, but it wasn't really necessary. Hades' face was cold, and he kept his gaze set stonily ahead, refusing to look at Orestes, lest his resolve should falter.

Persephone left Iolaus' side to lead the way into her mother's courtyard, where Demeter awaited them.

"Lady Demeter. I am come, at your command. Here ..." Hades' voice faltered, and Iolaus drove his fingernails into his palms in an effort to control his impulse to rush forward, "Here is one who holds my heart. I give him, and it, into your power, for the sake of my beloved wife, and that of the mortals who look to you for sustenance."

Hades reached out, and Iolaus took his hand, gracefully kneeling at the feet of the Goddess of the Corn.

"Let me see into your eyes, once Orestes of Attica."

Iolaus obeyed Demeter's chill command, and his breath caught in his throat. He'd never before seen the Earth Goddess. Beauty, he had expected, and she did not disappoint him. But, the thick weight of grief in her eyes surprised him, spoke directly to his own pain. Suffering. Yes, suffering was something he recognized, intimate as a lover's touch, searing as the heat of the supple lips he touched only in his dreams.

Grimly, he tried to push the images aside, but they eluded, then enveloped him. Thick, satin hair, the color of warm honey, smooth brown arms, broad, softly furred chest. Blue eyes, piercing his soul, owning him, but never possessing him. Hercules. The love that should have been. Tears rose to Iolaus' eyes, spilling over, raining down his cheeks. He nearly fell forward as the support of the Goddess' dark eyes was withdrawn from him.

"Wretch," the gaze that Demeter turned on Hades was as icy as the wind that tore at Iolaus' thin garment, "Did you think to deceive me, Hades? Where is your lover? How dare you play such games with me?"

"What .. He is before you. He is the one I love. Unless ... surely you didn't mean for me to give Persephone up to you!" Hades' face was a narrow mask of pain and confusion.

"Enough! You know quite well that Orestes is the sacrifice which I require from you. Where is he?"

Hades turned to Iolaus, pulling him to his feet, studying his face intently. He gently removed the silver band from Iolaus' brow, tracing the crescent shaped scar on the smaller man's temple with trembling fingers.

"Iolaus. Sweet Zeus, what have you done?"

"I'm sorry, my lord."

It was a soft, silver toned voice. It lilted, it danced. It wasn't however, Iolaus' voice. The hunter turned, guilt writ large on his face. Sure enough, there was Orestes. Naked, pale, but standing gracefully upright. His blue eyes were slightly dilated, but he was quite conscious. He must have recovered almost immediately, and followed ... what a pain in the ass it was, trying to drug a dead guy.

"No! Orestes, don't!" Iolaus growled imperatively, "She'll ..."

"She'll what? Kill me?" Iolaus' cousin smiled at him softly, then took Hades' hand and kissed the palm lingeringly.

Iolaus stepped closer to Demeter.

"Don't take him, great Goddess. Take me. He ... he likes being dead - what kind of sacrifice would he make? Let me take his place, please."

"Iolaus. Stop. The decision is mine." Orestes' sweet voice hardened, and his eyes glinted with determination.

"No. The decision is mine. I will take both of you."

"Mother! Why? To demand that Hades turn Orestes over to you was bad enough, but to take Iolaus, too - why? Iolaus spent half of his life as the pawn of the Gods, and died at the hand of a God. Let him be!"

"No! Demeter, I have given Orestes up to you. You have heard that he comes of his own will. Iolaus was never part of this bargain!" Hades shouted harshly.

"He has offered himself. I will take him." Demeter's words rang with finality.

"I ask along with Persephone. Why?" Yet another new voice cut through the exclamations and entreaties that greeted Demeter's decree. The company whirled as one, to face the intruder.

Iolaus gaped at the vision before him, dimly aware of Demophon stepping forward with a high, wordless cry.

A man. No, Iolaus hastily corrected himself; a God. Shining eyes, the purple-blue of ripened grapes, beamed through thick, dark lashes, set beneath perfectly arched eyebrows. His brown skin gleamed warmly, and his only garment was a soft, woven purple cloth, tied about his narrow hips. A wreath of grape leaves bound his thick, straight hair, which hung to his thighs in a midnight curtain. A golden band etched with grape leaves clasped his slender arm, and a wineskin was slung over one fine shoulder.

"Dionysus." Demeter sounded less than welcoming, though Dionysus shared the domain of Earth's husbandry with her, and of all the Gods, save Persephone, he was the nearest to her heart.

"Yes, Demeter. My vines wither, and die - they are cold, and dry. My people cry at my altars - they have nothing to sacrifice. They have nothing to eat. They freeze, and starve, and thirst. The Gods are angry at the lack of sacrifices. No homage can be paid to the Gods, when there is no bounty from which the mortals can draw. How long before the mortals are all dead, and there is no one left to honor the Gods? The other gods have turned to me for an answer, and now I turn to you. I know why you have required a sacrifice of Hades, and I must honor your reasons for it. But, why two sacrifices? Why, when all of mankind has been placed on your altar, through the privation which you have wrought?"

"Mankind. What do I care for mankind? What do they care for me, and mine? What do they care for the women they enslave, from birth to the grave?" Demeter asked, scornfully, unmoved by the haunting music of Dionysus' voice.

"Are you only killing mortal men, then? Do only the males starve? Do only they shiver?"

"Don't try this, Dionysus, I warn you. You have said that you honor my reasons - prove it. Two sacrifices have come forward, and I will take both of them."

"Three."

Demeter turned her gaze to Demophon, recognition dawning in her haunted
eyes.

"Three sacrifices, great Goddess. I alone, of the three sacrifices before you, am mortal. I owe my life to you. Take it. Please, take it, for the sake of my fellow mortals." Demophon knelt before Demeter, lowering his forehead to the dusty earth and lifting her slender foot to lay it upon the back of his neck, in the ageless symbol of submission.

"No," Demeter's voice was suddenly gentle, soft and musical as the wind through stalks of ripening corn, "Rise, Demophon, my mortal son. I am not a murderer, despite what these other Gods claim. I require that Hades offer up his heart to me, as he has taken mine. Iolaus came here of his own will, in an attempt to deceive me. He is mine, now. You ... you are meant to live." She reached out and drew Demophon to his feet.

The small gathering of the Dead and the Gods had been too absorbed in their own drama to realize that their company had increased. Demophon, however, stiffened as he perceived the dark figure lounging at the far side of the courtyard, and his companions reacted to his alarm, watching as Ares dislodged himself from the shadows and joined them.

"Could we possibly get on with it? I've got battles to enjoy, and they just aren't going to happen until my warriors can scrounge up a goat to sacrifice, all right? Besides, I'm afraid that I'll start weeping, what with all of this tiresome nobility in the air." Ares reached out and pulled Iolaus to his chest, plundering his mouth in a lewd kiss as Iolaus struggled, "Yummy. Did you taste this good when you were alive, little one?" He released Iolaus with a quick pinch of the hunter's rosy nipple, and laughed at the anger flaring in his victim's deep, blue eyes. "So, Auntie Demeter - just how do you propose to make sacrifices of these pretty, golden lambs ... what with them already being dead, and all?"

"Quite easily."

Iolaus heard the Goddess' cool reply through a haze of agony. A scream tore from his throat as his body convulsed, bolts of unspeakable agony writhing through him. Blackness engulfed him, but it brought no relief. Instead, it consumed him utterly; all that he had known, been, loved, went spinning away from him into the infinite darkness.

His vision gradually cleared, and the spasmodic trembling of his body ceased. The bitter chill of the courtyard tiles beneath his thinly clad back was sharper than before, gnawing at his bones. Warm arms lifted him tenderly, and he peered up into Demophon's concerned eyes. The fiery halo that had formerly characterized the youth as a mortal had disappeared - he was a beautiful young man, that was all. Looking around at the circle of Gods surrounding him, Iolaus realized that he no longer saw them as he had previously. The distinct, soft glow of each God was invisible to Iolaus, now. The air against his flesh no longer announced its presence like a living thing, the poor, dead trees no longer beckoned him to merge with them.

"Iolaus? Are you all right?"

He pondered the question, even as he noted the change in his hearing which matched that of his other senses. Demophon's voice was sweet, but it vibrated through him at a lower pitch than before, filling registers that had recently been silent, but vacating other, higher planes of hearing. He turned his head to see Orestes lying beside him, his nude body cradled by Hades. One glance at Orestes' stunned face told Iolaus all that he needed to know. They had both been changed. They were both mortal, once more.

Hades gathered Orestes close, murmuring brokenly. His lover was already lost to him. Orestes was mortal.

Ares watched with detached amusement.

"So. Now they're mortal. You sacrifice them, then they're dead again. Right back where we started. Does anyone else think that this is a huge waste of time?"

"Such a simplistic view of the situation, Ares. Of course, why should today be different?" Demeter smiled as the color mounted in Ares' cheeks, "Yes, they are mortal. And, they will be sacrificed, returned to Death. However, in order for the sacrifice to be complete, in order for Life to return to the land, they must rise from this death, to walk the Earth again as mortals. I have given them the power to do so, but they must find the strength to use that power. Iolaus suffers in his mortality, because it returns him to a hopeless love. Orestes suffers as well, because mortality rips him from the arms of his divine lover. They will each embrace Death, but they cannot linger there. Instead, they must surrender their comfort, for the sake of others. As women do, every day."

"You don't get out much, do you Demeter?" Ares snorted, "I know some women you've just got to meet."

Orestes pulled free of Hades' embrace and rose, with Iolaus following suit. Their gazes touched, silently acknowledging the truth of Demeter's statements. To be mortal was to suffer. Death offered sweet release to both of them.

"We await your pleasure, great Goddess." The regality of Orestes' former status informed each nuance of his quiet voice. Here was a king, in truth.

"The sacrifice will take place here, in the courtyard, at sunset. Prepare them, Hades. Persephone, attend me."

Persephone pressed a kiss to Hades' pale cheek, and obeyed her mother's
command.

"We'd best find a bathing chamber." Hades said hoarsely.

"This way, Hades."

Dionysus led the way to a large, airy chamber adjacent to the courtyard. A huge, marble pool steamed with fragrant water, compliments, Iolaus supposed wryly, of Demeter. He shed his silver tunic gratefully, slipping into the hot bath with a contented sigh. Strange that a simple, animal comfort could be so welcome, under such dire circumstances, he mused. Still, he supposed he was growing accustomed to being on either this or that side of the threshold of Death; it was rather difficult for him to panic over it any more.

He was a bit startled when Dionysus joined him in the bath, shampooing Iolaus' golden hair, and carefully washing his limbs like a humble body servant. Hades tended to Orestes in a similar manner, though he not only caressed his lover's body with scented soap and steaming water, he also sprinkled kisses liberally over each bit of flesh he cleansed. When both mortals had been guided from the water, and lovingly dried, they lay upon soft couches, and the gods massaged them with sweet oil until their bodies gleamed like ivory.

Hades held Orestes close, unable to speak. His lover returned his embrace, kissing him with all of the longing in his heart, treasuring the sensation of the god's flesh against his own, for possibly the last time.

Iolaus and Dionysus exchanged glances, moving to the far side of the room, and gazing out at the courtyard. Demeter had sent out a silent call, and the area was filling with mortals and gods, come to bear witness to the sacrifice.

Ares strolled in to the bathing chamber, observing the tender exchange between Hades and Orestes with a curling lip, then joining Iolaus and Dionysus at the doorway.

"Interesting. This model seems to have quite an effect on my brothers." He stared boldly at Iolaus' naked body.

"And, how not?" Dionysus asked, calmly, "They are beautiful men."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Beautiful." Ares tapped the tip of Iolaus' cock, smiling when the hunter glared up at him, "Nice basket, too."

"Not terribly reverent, are you, Ares?" Iolaus growled, "Don't you know I've just been primed for sacrifice? You shouldn't sully the goods."

"Well, reverent has never been my middle name, Shorty. Anyway, I'm just admiring the view. Nothing wrong with that, is there? You must be used to it - dead or alive, you've got the finest ass in Greece." Ares grinned.

"Is that a pun, Ares? You know: Greece, ass. Grease?" Despite the gravity of his situation, or perhaps in defiance of it, Iolaus actually giggled, and Ares laughed loudly, a new appreciation of the cocky mortal firing his dark eyes.

"Speaking of irreverent!" He crowed, "You must drive that do-gooder brother of mine to distraction! Maybe this time around, if you make it out of the Underworld with your skin, you should dump Hercules, you know, find another sponsor. Someone a bit more worldly, perhaps? I can promise you great fringe benefits." He traced Iolaus' mouth with his thumb.

"Yeah? Like what; all the blood I can drink? No thanks, Ares. You're just too scary for a delicate, little thing like me." Iolaus pretended to simper.

"I doubt it." Ares snorted, "Let me know if you change your mind. Hercules is bound to bore you to tears, sooner or later."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever. You'll be the first to know, Ares. Really." The brazen throb of a sounding gong interrupted Iolaus' sarcastic reply.

Hades and Orestes joined the group by the doorway as the gong sounded once again. Silence followed in the wake of its last echoes, the throngs in the courtyard watching expectantly as Demeter and Persephone joined the other gods near the altar.

Iolaus and Orestes stepped into the courtyard, the amber glow of the imminent sunset blazing in their hair.

It was time.

*******************************************************************************************
Hercules' apprehension mounted as he journeyed further into his homeland. It was just as he had seen it in his dreams. Sunken eyed folk answered his frantic questions wearily. Demeter had withdrawn her blessing, they knew that much. No one knew why. Most had heard of Iolaus' death, and they looked at Hercules askance when he asked, haltingly, if the hunter been seen abroad in the land.

As well they might, he mused. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow Iolaus was involved in the current crisis. Somehow ...

He broke off a withered branch from a lifeless shrub.

Why? Why had Demeter done this? He had thought that her rage over Persephone's abduction had been assuaged years earlier. Had some new outrage occurred? If so, none of the suffering mortals had heard news of it.

Plagued with questions, and uneasy dreams, he turned his steps toward Demeter's palace. Despite the desolation surrounding him, his thoughts continually left the plight of his homeland's inhabitants, returning to Iolaus as truly as an arrow shot from the bow of Apollo.

More clearly than any true memory, his mind played scenes of the love he and Iolaus had never shared. The satin of Iolaus' skin beneath his searching fingers, the taste of Iolaus' tongue. The scent of Iolaus' hair as he bent over his compact form, burying his nose in the golden weight of curls, burying his cock ...How many times had he lain awake, watching over the dwindling campfire as Iolaus slept? Snoring lightly, occasionally giggling, carrying on incomprehensible conversations in a buttery, sleepy tone that caught fire in Hercules' heart; Iolaus was rarely still, even in slumber. Hercules hungrily imagined laying his body against that of his friend, pulling his supple, sleepy form close, kissing those mumbling lips until Iolaus' eyes, heavy and blue, opened and bathed the demigod with a wicked, wanton gaze. Until his mouth cleaved to Hercules' his tongue teasing, tasting, his body yearning upward into Hercules' caresses. Each time, Hercules had turned onto his other side, shutting out the sight of Iolaus, frequently giving in to the need to bring himself to solitary orgasm, lips closed tightly against Iolaus' name, which threatened to burst from him as his seed spurt over his fist.

"Congratulations," he muttered bitterly, "you made it. You never endangered your friendship with Iolaus. Now you never will. The only man you've ever loved is dead. No need to fear his rejection of your affections, now."

Huddling his shoulders against the dry, biting wind, he struggled on.

End part one

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