HTLJ: Standing in the Light

by Arianna18

Hercules does battle with Lucifer who has taken on a very familiar form.

"Do you have any idea how much I hate you!" the glowing spectre demanded, growing ever more substantial with each passing moment.

Iolaus had stopped dead on the vague deer path through the forest when the being appeared before him. Standing tensely, waiting for an attack he was sure couldn't be long in coming, he studied the being, now fully formed before him. Eight feet tall, glowing in his original robes of light, the former archangel glared at the mortal, black eyes burning almost red with the fire of his hate. His fists were clenched, but empty and he seemed to carry no weapon...not that he needed one. With a sinking feeling, Iolaus wondered how he could get out of this confrontation in one piece.

"No, actually, I don't think I do know...I've never understood that kind of hate. And, I'll never understand the reason for it," he replied quietly, as calmly as he could. There was no point pretending he didn't know who this was, this creature of all darkness, despite his robes of light.

The handsome being sneered at him. "Don't understand it?" he grated. "No, I don't suppose you do. After all, you chose to give up the Light, and all its glory, just to save this pathetic world and all the mortals who clamber over it like a pestilence. The Light was ready to end it!" he raged, "Ready to admit that you, all of you mortals, had all been a mistake...but, no, you and your friend had to go and interfere! It could have been over! It should have been over!"

"Why? So that you could be proven right?" Iolaus challenged back. "I'm not the only Guardian who gave up the Light because of mortals. I've heard your story...and it's pathetic...you're pathetic! You were the greatest of them all, the brightest, the most loved...and you threw it all away! Because of pride...and jealousy. Because you couldn't stand the Light caring for others who were so different, so vulnerable. You gave up everything for the basest, most ignoble, emotions in creation!"

When the being snorted in fury, Iolaus paused and took a deep breath, refusing to give ground, determined to speak his mind. "You hate us? No, I don't think so...I think you hate yourself. And you don't know what to do about it, how to turn back, admit you made a mistake, and ask for forgiveness. That's all it would take, and you know it! The Light still loves you, dammit, though I don't know how or why."

Iolaus had stormed back, forgetting he was but a mortal and helpless before this powerful being, knowing only he was also a Guardian, giving the Guardian's message that there was, even yet, hope for this lost, tragic and infinitely evil and dangerous creature.

The being glowed brighter still, so that Iolaus had to raise a hand to shade his eyes, but still the mortal held his ground, refusing to be intimidated, though retreat might well have been the better part of valour. He knew he should hate this being, and be afraid, mortally afraid. But, all he felt was sadness and great pity.

When Iolaus had turned from the Light, it had been for love. This lost soul, as great and as evil as he was, had turned away in loathing and despair, in hopeless, helpless anger, and was now consumed by bitterness. Yes, Iolaus had heard the story while in the Light...all there knew it, and regretted it profoundly. All wished there was a way to bring this lost one back...but, he refused every gesture, turned away from every hand that reached out to him in friendship and love.

"I will not be lectured to by the likes of you!" the being shouted back. "I will prove the Light wrong and show how petty, and malicious, all mortals are and will ever be...I swear I will sweep this world with darkness, blotting out love and hope, if it takes all time." The Incarnation of Evil held Iolaus' eyes, his gaze almost mesmerizing. "There are always twisted souls who will listen...but, even better are those who do evil while lying to themselves about their great moral purposes. I savour those victories. It's only a matter of time..." the being exclaimed, while his light dimmed, replaced by the garb he wore in his exile...a cloak of midnight black, so deep and unrelieved it seemed to melt into infinite nothingness.

His handsome features became twisted with his consuming bitterness, his mouth fixed into a cold snarl of contempt, his brows beetled in an endless frown of anger and hate. But, still there was a regalness about him, a promise of beauty that could be...and that is what he used to tempt souls into a well of darkness and torment so deep even the Gods of all the Underworlds could not conceive of its dreadful, eternal reality.

Iolaus shook his head, his hands on his hips as he confronted this fallen guardian. "You're wrong...you'll battle forever, without end, so long as the Light lets you, and doesn't grow tired of the hopeless turmoil you infest in this land of Light's creation. Forever is a long time...and you know you cannot win. There will always be good souls in the world, souls with the fire to stand for what is right, to safeguard those who are weaker than themselves. Love is part of what we are...it's born into us. There will always be love in this world...you can not eradicate it. You haven't the power. Give it up. You are engaged in a hopeless quest, and you only cause yourself the greatest pain. Give it up!"

"It is you who is blind," the being replied scathingly. "In every generation, I will destroy those who bring hope and raise up those who destroy. Mortals are sheep. They will learn when their heroes are gone...they will learn to give up hope and love, if it is hate and evil which will keep them alive, and give them what they want." The being spoke with conviction, or tried to. There was yet a doubt in his words, a doubt he would not let himself hear, but which Iolaus heard.

"So, is that why you're here? To kill a hero?" Iolaus asked, raising his hands, waving them for emphasis, first jabbing a thumb back toward himself as he spoke, then pointing at the being, "Well, then, kill me...you'll find there will always be others to take my place. Haven't you learned yet, after all these hundreds and thousands of millenia, that you only get what you resist? Destroy the good, and more good will spring forth to resist your evil." Iolaus shook his head at the stubbornness of this creature looming over him. "By the gods, even Ares, as bad as he is, understands that...and wreaks war to draw out the honour of men, so that they will fight for what they believe in!"

Iolaus let his arms fall to his sides, standing open and vulnerable, fully expecting to be blasted into oblivion. If this being was going to kill him, there wasn't much Iolaus could do to stop him. Yet, he loosened his joints and muscles, prepared to leap away from any bolt of power which might soon be directed toward him, unwilling and unable to simply surrender.

"Ares?" spat the being, diverted. "You dare liken me to that wastrel? All those gods you mortals like to worship are just different, more powerful beings than you are yourselves. Another botched up experiment, worse if anything than mortals themselves. Your gods are nothing more than other creatures who have more power than you have, and who have used that power only for their own ends. If the Light had stopped with them, my battle would have been long won. You can have your Ares!"

Iolaus couldn't help it...he grinned at that. "Thanks, but I don't want him. Look," he said, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture of conciliation, his face earnest, still somehow hoping there might be a way to reason with this creature, "you must want something of me...otherwise, why are you here? Fun as it is to debate the philosophy of the universe with you, this isn't getting either of us anywhere. You have to know you can never turn me to your side...so, why have you shown yourself to me?"

"What do I want of you?" replied the Incarnate of Darkness with eyes narrowed in unholy purpose, "I want your body, Iolaus, your face to be the evil which destroys the greatest symbol of good in this age."

Startled, Iolaus took a step back at that. Gods, not again. No! He'd not allow himself to be possessed again...been there, done that, didn't want to go there again, ever. Better oblivian than that. But, gods, the creature was after Hercules! There had to be a way to stop him...but how?

The Devil watched the expressions flit across Iolaus' innocent, expressive face and shook his head wearily. They were all such fools, knowing only what they had already experienced. No imagination. No understanding of real power.

Iolaus scanned the forest around him, knowing there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from this creature. Well, the being could try, but he would find he could not harness Iolaus' soul. This was a fight Iolaus knew he could win. Resolved, he stood firm in his place, his head up, ready for what ever might be thrown at him. "I'll never surrender my soul to you," he said quietly.

"I didn't expect that you would, Iolaus...you'd never have been chosen to be a guardian if your soul was so weak. But, I don't need to defeat your soul...I just need to cripple your body, so that you will not interfere with my plans. I want you to know what I am going to do, so that the knowledge will shrivel that soul of yours, and let you, too, know the deepest despair." The being smiled then, coldly, his blazing eyes narrowed as he studied the hero. He made only the slightest motion with his hand....

Iolaus never heard it coming, had no way to defend against it. The serpant struck and buried its razor-sharp fangs deep through the leather of his pants into his leg, the venom a stream of fire unleashed into his body, his blood.

"Yeow!" he cried out, startled, and reached to pull the snake from his leg, but the serpant having done its evil deed had released its grip and was even now slithering away into the shadows of the forest. Whirling back to confront the Devil Incarnate, he cried, "What was that about? Did you decide to just kill me after all?"

Iolaus could feel the poison reach through his body, spiralling its way, burning as it travelled to his chest and head. He could feel his chest constrict, and began panting for air. In torment, he couldn't stop his hands from coming up to hold his head as pain stabbed through his brain with the force of white hot knives. The world began to swirl around him, and his legs lost their strength, so that he stumbled and then fell, still staring up at the creature, with eyes that were fast dimming.

And, he was appalled by what he saw. The creature shrank before his eyes, taking on another aspect, until Iolaus saw himself standing there, looking down upon him, with a look of unbridled hatred burning in his blue eyes. "No," the hunter whispered, aghast, understanding at last, "Noooo....."

"Oh, YES!" the Devil responded. "Your body, your face...that's what he'll see, what he'll trust...your hand which will kill him, Iolaus, so far as the world will ever know. And, so far as he or the world will ever know, he'll kill you before he finally dies himself, so that his own soul will rot with the grief and horror of it."

Iolaus moaned, struggled to roll to his knees, fighting the pain that flared when he moved, intent upon fighting this being, but the Devil just kicked out, shoving him back down to the ground.

Smiling with satisfaction, he continued with his description of what was going to happen to the hunter. "You won't die, not until it's over. I want to come back to you, and tell you what I've done, so that you will know the look in his eyes as he killed you, and then died himself."

Iolaus pressed his eyes closed, wanting to deny that image of the future. But the being was relentless, gloating with anticipated glory. "That will be my triumph, Iolaus...that you came back to save him, to save this pathetic world, only to know before you die that you have destroyed Hercules and all that this world believes in. Your story will not go down through the ages as a model of courage, love and selflessness, but rather it will be a story of betrayal, a story which proves that no love can be trusted...the story of a coward who killed his best friend. Then, then, I'll let you die...perhaps. Or, perhaps not. We'll see what would suit best when that time comes. For now...lie here, and imagine what I will be doing with your face, your body....imagine it all, and weep."

The being disappeared, leaving Iolaus lying in the silent forest. Desperate, he again forced himself over and up onto his knees, defying the agony, to crawl through the dim forest, to warn Hercules. But, his muscles were weakened by the poison, would not obey him and soon could not support him...the village was too far away...he'd never make it that far. The searing pain ripped through him with every movement, stealing away his strength, distracting him, defeating him. He crashed into the damp earth, sobbing.

"Hercules!" he cried out, reaching with his soul, his love...all that he could send in warning. "Michael," he whispered then, knowing he was helpless to stop what was about to happen, "Michael...help him!"

Unwilling to just give up, he twisted, stifling a moan, to pull his knife from the sheath at his back, intending to double over and try to clean what he could of the wound, cut out whatever poison had not yet travelled from the site of the serpant's bite. But, the knife fell from his hand, disappearing under his writhing body. The pain was terrible, but he gradually he mastered it so long as he remained perfectly still, knowing as he did that this, too, was part of the plan.

He could not suffer the torment of his imagination if all was blotted out by excrutiating pain. And, he could not move, to even try to crawl down to the village, without suffering unbearable torment. If it was only closer, it might be worth the effort, but the village was miles away...and Iolaus knew he could never crawl that far in time, even if he could bear the agony.

He was left numb, weak, helpless to move...left with his terror of what the beast had planned for Hercules. So long as he didn't move, the agony was manageable...but the horror of what was unfolding grew in his heart.

"MICHAEL!" he cried out again...but there was no answer.

And, then, there was only darkness. No sun, no moon, no stars. No dim images of trees in the shadows of the ancient wood. The quiet sounds of the forest, the wind in the trees, the chatter of squirrels, were muffled, so distant as to be indiscernable. Just a blackness that surrounded him and crushed down upon him, separating him from the world around him. Was it real or illusory? Could others see him even if he could not see? Could he be heard if he cried out? Iolaus didn't know...he just knew that he was cut off, alone with his thoughts and fears, helpless to impact upon the events of the world. And, he hated himself for his weakness.

'Gods,' he thought, 'Hercules...I'm sorry...it's not me! Please, see that it's not me...."

* * *

"Michael...help him!" "MICHAEL!"

The archangel paused as the desperate cry penetrated his attention, the soulwrenching tone of the plea catching at his heart.

"Iolaus?" he whispered to himself aloud, frowning, as his mind sought the source of the prayer. But, there was nothing, only darkness...a deep, penetrating, burning darkness. His head snapped up and his lips parted. He recognized that black presence and knew it boded ill. Evil was manifest in the land of the mortals. Evil was on the move, pursuing its own dark mission.

Again, Michael tried to locate the mortal warrior to no avail. The Evil which stalked the earth had cloaked the presence of the messenger, such that only his soul's desperate cry, on the wings of his innocence and love, had been able to penetrate the shroud even as it blanketed him.

But, Michael did not have to find the messenger to understand the message. He cast out his mind again, then flashed from view.

* * *

Hercules had been taking his ease on a shaded bench not far from the centre of the town. From his vantage point, he could watch the well, and the townsfolk as they went about their business. He was waiting for Iolaus, and knew his friend should be arriving soon, that is, unless he'd become distracted or delayed. Herc wasn't worried. Iolaus could handle himself, and if he was going to be very late, he'd send a message. It was a fine summer day, and there were no monsters to fight. He could relax, kick back and enjoy the domestic scenes playing out before him. A frequent visitor to these parts, people would nod and smile to acknowledge him, and some would stop to pass the time of day, but none fell over themselves in awe, and none sought anything from him beyond the warmth of friendship.

Herc and Iolaus had been busy over the past few months, until finally there didn't seem to be anyone urgently awaiting their assistance. Herc had decided to visit Iphicles for a couple of days while Iolaus took himself off to hunt in the hills near Argos. They'd agreed to meet here, in the centre square of the village halfway between the two cities and decide then where they'd go next.

Hercules was glad they were in this general area. Although no one had expressly asked for any specific assistance, he'd heard a few disturbing rumours that slavers had been spotted to the east of Argos, moving in from the coast. Worse, it was said they might be hunting children. While no one had yet heard of any definite kidnappings, Herc was keeping an ear out for any news. Once Iolaus arrived, they could head out in that direction to see if they could track any potential trouble, maybe stop it before it started. If there was nothing to the rumours, fine. They'd see a little of the countryside, do a little fishing. There wasn't anything else demanding their time or energy right now.

He stretched and yawned, feeling lazy, laying his long arms out along either side of the bench behind him, his legs straight and crossed at the ankles. Gods, it was hot! He'd be glad to get out of the town and into the cooler reaches of the countryside beyond. He'd been smiling gently at the antics of a group of kids playing off to his right when the voice behind him caught his attention, and sent a thrill of unease shivering through his frame.

"Hercules?"

Herc jerked to attention, coming to his feet in one fluid motion as he turned to face the being who had appeared behind him. "Michael? What is it? Is something wrong?"

Michael glanced around the busy area and cocked his head to indicate they should find a quieter place. "Follow me," he said softly, and led them away from the square, into a lane behind the buildings beside the meandering stream that flowed through the town.

Hercules frowned, tense, but he followed silently, knowing Michael would explain when he was ready. Incomplete thoughts and worries crashed through his mind, knowing his only real connection with this being was Iolaus...and Iolaus wasn't here. Had something happened to him? What was going on?

Finally, Michael paused and turned back to face him. The archangel's face was stern, and Hercules could read concern in his eyes. "Alright," Herc said, "what's this about? Has something happened to Iolaus?"

Michael looked away briefly, then back at the demigod. "I had hoped you would know where he is, Hercules," he responded, frowning.

Shaking his head, Herc held his hands up in an open gesture of emptiness. "No, not exactly. He's been hunting and we'd planned to meet here, today. Why are you looking for him?" Hercules was trying to keep his feelings of disquiet from becoming overwhelming. So far, Michael had not indicated there was any need to worry. He was just looking for Iolaus...but, perhaps that in itself was cause to worry. Shouldn't the powerful Guardian be able to find his friend as easily as he himself had been found?

"I heard from Iolaus...he called out to me, asking me to help someone. I believe he meant you," Michael replied, then paused, considering what he could or should say of his own anxiety.

Hercules looked around, confused. "Help me? Why? There's no reason...."

Michael shook his head abruptly, raising one hand to cut off the demigod. "I believe there is a reason. Hercules, the Incarnation of Evil is walking the earth...and I believe he is stalking you."

His eyes narrowing as he considered these words, trying to make sense of them, Hercules responded, "You'll have to be a little clearer than that, Michael. I don't understand. Evil...is stalking me? You speak as though evil was a thing."

"It can take many forms, and I don't know what form he currently wears. But, believe me, Hercules, evil is real, has substance and is capable of acting to achieve his own ends. Evil is not just a concept...he is tangible, and very dangerous," Michael answered, sighing.

"You think it...he...has done something to Iolaus?" Hercules demanded sharply, wishing he knew exactly where to find his friend. His mouth had gone dry, and he shivered a little in the heat.

"I don't know...but, I'm afraid that perhaps..." Michael's voice dropped, and his eyes clouded as he looked past Herc's shoulder at the man who had just appeared at the far end of the path, following them from the square. "By the Light...." Michael whispered in dismay. Then, he straightened, his face losing all expression. "I am afraid you are to be tested, Hercules, and I hope you will not be found wanting. I cannot interfere in the events which will follow, but I counsel you: Beware of illusions, trust your heart, listen to your soul."

"What does that mean?" Hercules interjected in an impatient tone, irritated by the games. If Iolaus was in trouble, he wanted to know it, so he could do something about it. But, Michael simply looked past him, nodded once briefly, and disappeared.

Mystified, Herc turned, and his face broke into a relieved smile. "Iolaus!" he called, moving to meet his friend. "Gods...I was afraid something had happened to you!"

His partner just shrugged and grinned, "I'm fine...what was Michael doing here?"

Shaking his head, Herc looked back over his shoulder at where Michael had been standing, then turned to face his buddy. "I have no idea...he appeared, asked where you were, talked about evil, and then took off. As I said, I was afraid something had happened to you...but, you're obviously okay. Michael didn't seem to know himself if something was wrong...just muttered that there might be some kind of test." Hercules shrugged, not understanding any of it.

The hunter frowned a little, as if he, too, was trying to make sense of it, but then he just shrugged as well. "Well, whatever it is, if there is something wrong, I guess it'll eventually come clear. So, got anything lined up for us? Or do we have more free time on our hands?" His friend had a hopeful grin, but Herc didn't know if it was hope for action or hope for more time to relax.

Laughing, Herc draped an arm around his friend, to turn him and steer him back through the square and out of town. "Maybe both...there're rumours of slavers east of Argos. I thought we could go take a look," he explained.

His buddy nodded, "Sure, why not...it's a nice day for a walk."

Herc let his arm fall to his side as they ambled through the busy square. Hercules gave his friend a sideways glance as they moved through the crowds. He'd felt something was odd when he'd put his arm around his buddy's shoulders. Nothing really wrong...just odd. Frowning, he tried to capture what it was...but, it was too vague. Just something that made him think something was different about Iolaus...what? Skin...his skin seemed cool, almost cold. Shrugging, he figured it was just his imagination. If there was something wrong, if something had happened, Iolaus would have told him.

They moved out past the town's boundaries, following the road south, and gradually the traffic of peasants, merchants, farmers and craftsmen into the busy centre of civilization diminished, and they were alone on the road.

"So, did you catch anything?" Herc asked into the silence.

"Hmm? What?" his friend replied, his thoughts obviously elsewhere.

"You went hunting, remember? Did you catch anything?" Herc repeated, wondering what Iolaus had been pondering about.

His buddy shrugged, then laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could say I caught a little something...but nothing worth talking about."

"More rabbits, eh?" Herc replied, laughing himself. But, again he felt that twinge of uneasiness. Had there been a trace of harshness in Iolaus' laugh? Or was he just embarrassed that the Great Hunter had nothing to show for a few days in the forest? Even that, come to think of it, was odd. Iolaus was a great hunter...when he didn't catch anything, it was 'cause he hadn't been trying. Well, maybe he hadn't been trying. After all, his buddy often just liked to be off in the peace of the wilderness, and hunting was only an excuse to be there.

Hercules decided he was just jumpy, reading too much into innocent words...Michael's strange visit, and warning, had put him on edge. His mind played over the odd conversation. Michael had said Iolaus had sent him, that Herc needed help. The Guardian had said that evil was stalking him...then, that it was a test, one in which the archangel could not intervene. 'Beware of illusions, trust your heart, listen to your soul.'

"Iolaus," Herc began tentatively, "did you call Michael...send him to me?"

Startled, the hunter looked up from his reverie. "Me? Call Michael? No, why would I? Did you need him?"

Mystified, Hercules shook his head and looked away. Michael wouldn't make that kind of mistake would he? He wouldn't just imagine he'd heard Iolaus call out to him...something wasn't right. 'Beware of illusions...' Looking back at his friend, his face impassive, Hercules just shrugged. "No, I didn't need him...I guess he'd just made a mistake."

The hunter nodded as he continued ambling along. "Could be," he said without any evident concern, "Guardians aren't infallible...they make mistakes."

"Yeah, maybe," Hercules replied, also affecting unconcern. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'but the Michael I know hasn't made one yet....'

Nonchalantly, his buddy began to whistle, off-key and aimlessly as usual. Was it Herc's imagination, or was the music flatter than usual, lacking its usual buoyancy, jauntiness? This was ridiculous. He was starting to wonder about Iolaus, what he was hiding, as if he was hiding anything at all. This was his best friend, who had arrived on schedule and who was quite evidently fine, normal. Michael's words were just making him crazy. There was nothing to worry about.

Still...Hercules kept a sharp watch on the fields around them, as if he expected the embodiment of evil to leap out at them from behind a tree. Because it was out there, somewhere. He could feel it. The hairs on the back of his neck were bristling in warning. Biting his lip, Herc wondered why Iolaus couldn't sense it, too. Normally, his buddy was as alert as he was to the presence of danger, even when there was no good reason to suspect it was lurking nearby.

The incubus was aware of Hercules' scrutiny and the demigod's disquiet. He was not pleased that Iolaus had managed to alert Michael, or that Michael was now aware the game was in play. Not that he was worried. No. He knew Michael would abide by the rules. The Light had given Lucifer the right to test his beliefs that mortals were worthless, worse, than they were innately evil. He could tempt and play his games to his heart's content and the Guardians could not interfere with him on earth. They had to stand aside, let mortals stand or fall on their own, otherwise the Light's gift of free will to mortals was a sham.

No, that wasn't what concerned him.

But, he didn't want Hercules to realize it was not his friend by his side. The torment the being had planned for the demigod, and his partner, depended upon the demigod's belief that he had been betrayed and that he had killed his best friend when that moment came. Hercules and Iolaus had ruined his plans, delayed the inevitable destruction of humanity, and he wanted them to pay for that, wanted them to feel the bitterness that dwelt in his own soul.

So, he whistled and ambled along, playing the role of the faithful and loyal little buddy. He need not hurry, need not rush to attack this hero of mortals. There was plenty of time.

* * *

They were high in the hills, east of Argos, and the sun was slipping into the west. The shadows lengthened in the forest, bringing an early dusk. It was time to make camp for the night. Hercules gathered dry windfall for their campfire while his partner set out to trap their dinner. Everything was just as it always was, but Hercules couldn't seem to shake off his sense that something was off...something. Frowning, he shook his head in irritation, his lips thinned as he sparked a flame from his gauntlets. Sitting beside the fire, his arms crossed on his raised knees, Herc stared into the flames, waiting for his partner to return.

His mind went back to the conversation with Michael, his memories pausing as he remembered the look on Michael's face, frowning as he remembered the tone and the words themselves. Evil was stalking the land...maybe stalking him. Iolaus had called for help. But, when his partner showed up, Michael had...what? There'd been a fleeting look in his eyes. What was it? Regret? Understanding? Resignation? And, his words had been so strange. No greeting to Iolaus, just a brief nod of acknowledgement...and a warning.

But, Iolaus was fine, denied having called the archangel, shrugged off the mystery of Michael's odd arrival and message. One of them wasn't telling the truth...but why? For the rest of the day, Iolaus had pretended everything was fine. But, Herc could see something was on his mind. His buddy had been too quiet, and though he'd tried to carry on with his usual carefree, jaunty demeanor, the whistling had been off, toneless. Iolaus might not always carry a tune perfectly, but his aimless music normally held a lightness of spirit, a kind of unconscious joy in life, that had been missing throughout the long afternoon.

But, whatever it was, Iolaus didn't want to tell him. Herc sighed, realizing he was accepting what he'd wanted to ignore. He knew which of the two had been lying to him today, and it wasn't the Guardian of the Light. No. Iolaus was lying to him...hiding something. Iolaus knew something about the evil Michael had been talking about. If he hadn't, he would have been more confused...more puzzled, trying to reason out the archangel's words and behaviours. He'd have asked more questions, not just shrugged it off. If Iolaus was anything, he was curious...and he'd never just shrug Michael, or his warnings, off.

So...why wouldn't Iolaus tell him what he knew? Why wouldn't he enlighten Hercules as to what was going on? Too easy. To protect him. Gods. Whatever it was, to have alarmed Michael and to have Iolaus hiding it from him for his own good...it must be something overwhelming. And, if Iolaus wasn't going to tell him about it, then Iolaus must be planning to try to handle it on his own...whatever it was. Hercules sighed again, and gazed up at the darkening, indigo sky. Iolaus had never shared much about what his existence had been like in the Light. Only that it was bliss...and that he'd been made a Guardian. Maybe what was going on had something to do with that. Had something to do with the mysteries of the Light, and Iolaus felt it was something he couldn't, shouldn't share.

Narrowing his eyes, running a hand through his hair, Herc swallowed and shook his head. Should he push it? Demand an explanation? He didn't want Iolaus facing some untold, monstrous evil on his own. Or, should he wait until his buddy chose to confide in him? Hercules wanted to respect Iolaus' privacy but...this involved them both. Anything that could be a danger to either of them must, by definition, involve them both...and Michael had said he believed the evil was stalking Hercules. Nodding, the demigod made his decision. He'd tell Iolaus what he surmised, and ask what was going on. And, if Iolaus still refused to confide in him...well, he'd decide how to handle that if it happened.

He heard the snap of a twig and turned his head, seeing his partner emerge from the forest with two rabbits in his hand. His buddy flashed him a grin, stooped to grab two sticks from the ground and spitted the already gutted and skinned carcasses, then laid them over the flames. Finished, he turned to Hercules, and noted the solemn look on the demigod's face. Puzzled, he cocked his head a bit, asking quietly, "What?"

Herc shook his head, looked off into the forest, then back as he gathered his words together. "Iolaus, I know something's wrong." He paused a moment at the flash of irritation in his buddy's eyes. "Look, I know whatever it is, you're probably trying to protect me...but, you haven't been the same since Michael showed up...you're preoccupied and trying to hide it."

The hunter shook his head, looking away, "Hercules...I...."

"Michael said there is an evil stalking the earth...maybe stalking me," Hercules continued, cutting off the denial he could tell was on his friend's lips. "I figure you want to protect me...that you plan to handle it yourself, whatever it is. Iolaus...I can't let you face something that makes Michael that worried, by yourself. We're partners. Whatever it is...you have to let me help you."

His partner stared into the flames for a long moment, wondering what he could say. Hercules watched as the hunter chewed his lip, and waited for his buddy to tell him what was going on.

Finally, the hunter looked up with a sigh, and nodded, as if reluctantly. "Alright...I had hoped I wouldn't have to tell you. It might be nothing, Hercules...but, well, I spotted him in the hills outside of the village not long before I met you. He was heading that way, and from what I've ever heard of him, I figured he had to be trouble. He doesn't personally walk the earth often...only to do great evil...only to destroy the hope of mortals. Hercules, I...well, I was afraid he was after you. So, I called to Michael, to let him know what I'd seen, and suspected...and asked him to warn you, in case I couldn't get to you in time. But, when I got there, you were okay...and, so, all afternoon I've wondered if I was wrong...if maybe he's hunting someone else."

When his voice trailed off, Hercules asked, "Who is he, Iolaus? Why does he scare you and Michael?"

His partner shook his head, the light of the fire glinting off his golden curls, and he sighed with a heavy sadness. "His name is Lucifer, and he was the greatest being in the Light, the most loved by the Light. His name even means 'light'. He became furious when mortals were created...he hates all mortals, and he's convinced mortals should be destroyed. So, he has devoted his existence to proving mortals are unworthy, innately evil, doomed to either eventually destroy one another, or so debase themselves that the Light will destroy all mortal life...just as the Light almost did."

Hercules looked into the fire as he listened to his best friend's words. He remembered the miracle of getting Iolaus back, when his buddy risked his soul to save humanity from the judgment of death. "Is he still 'in the Light'?" Herc asked softly.

"No," his partner shook his head with a sigh, almost seeming to feel great sadness. "He was cast out, the worst thing that can ever happen to anyone in the Light. But, it's what he chose for himself." When the hunter looked up, there was an odd look in his eyes. "The others, Michael and the rest, are always trying to get him to recant, to admit he was wrong and to ask for forgiveness. But, he won't. He knows he's right. So, he carries on tempting mortals to evil, destroying what is good, knowing he'll eventually prove mortals will turn to him in the belief that he is their salvation."

"But...that's crazy!" Hercules interjected, looking into the air, missing the flash in his partner's eyes, a flash of fury quickly quenched. "Sure, there are always those who will seek to do evil...gods, we both know that only too well. But, mortals aren't inherently evil...they won't all choose evil. There's too much good in people, too much determination to do what is right."

The hunter nodded once, tightly. "You have devoted your life to that belief, Hercules. And, that's why I figured he'd go after you. Not only did you save humanity, when you impressed the Light by being willing to die to save the life of your best friend...but you stand for the best that mortals are. You're in his way. In his mind, you are his greatest enemy. And, I'm afraid he's going to do all he can to destroy you."

"Why didn't you just tell me this in the first place? Why did you try to pretend nothing was wrong?" Herc asked, an almost plaintive tone in his voice.

His buddy shrugged, then stood to walk a few feet away, standing with his back to Hercules. "I was hoping that I could do what has to be done without you realizing...."

Iolaus...especially not to protect me! It's too dangerous!" Hercules voice was determined, brooking no argument.

The hunter chuckled softly, then turned to grin brightly at the demigod, "I should have known you'd figure out something wasn't right. You know your old buddy too well. Alright...it's probably better this way. We can both keep our eyes open. But...I warn you. He's very hard to detect. He can take any form...he could be anyone...even me."

Hercules chuckled sardonically. "Yeah, right...like you'd ever let him take you over. I don't care how strong he is...I know you would never surrender your soul."

His partner looked away, a trace of a bitter smile on his lips. "Not again, you mean. Well, you're right. There's no way that would ever happen."

"Iolaus," Herc replied softly, "that was never your fault. Dahok was a master of illusion...and you did defeat him. Together, we can defeat anything."

His buddy gazed across the fire at Hercules. "Dahok was a child compared to Lucifer. Make no mistake, Hercules, what Dahok knew about creating illusion, about lies, about horror doesn't hold a candle to Lucifer's capabilities. Lucifer, the Devil, is Evil Incarnate. He'll stop at nothing...and he can't be killed."

Herc gazed back into his partner's eyes, and was caught by the conviction he saw there. His buddy truly believed in the consummate danger this evil being represented. No one had known the depth of Dahok's evil as Iolaus had known it...if he said they were up against something worse, Herc had to believe him. "You know more about him that I do, Iolaus...how are we going to stop him?"

"I don't know, Herc...I don't know if there is any way to stop him. The only power I know that is greater than his, is the power of the Light itself."

* * *

Alone in the blackness, the fire of the poison smoldering throughout his body, Iolaus tried to keep focused on Hercules, tried to keep sending a message of warning to his best friend, hoping Herc's preternatural sense of danger, especially when it was Iolaus' life which was at risk, would alert him, let him know...what? That his buddy was in danger? Iolaus groaned in despair. How would Herc know? He'd think Iolaus was there with him...even if he felt something was amiss, he'd shrug it off.

Desperate, he tried again to move, to roll...to escape the cloak of darkness which covered him. But, he was so weak the agony of movement overwhelmed him. His muscles wouldn't readily obey his will. All he'd been able to do was shift a little, his restless, questing fingers finding the knife half under his hip...but the cost of even such slight movement was a fire that overwhelmed his senses. Dammit. He couldn't move, couldn't help Hercules...when his friend needed him more than he'd ever needed him before.

Tears of frustration and fear for Herc filled his eyes, and overflowed to trickle slowly down the sides of his face. Iolaus didn't know if he was dying, and he didn't care. His life didn't matter. What mattered was the beast that was stalking Herc...and was going to kill him. He had to do something. He couldn't just lie here and let that happen.

* * *

Michael watched, frustrated at his impotence. He knew he couldn't intervene, couldn't interfere. All the Guardians knew the earth was off limits...that Lucifer was off limits. They could not fight him directly. The Light had faith in the capacity of mortals to fight these battles for themselves, to prove the erstwhile Guardian wrong...and in proving him wrong, force him to face his error, force him to give up his misguided hatred and jealousy...and, ultimately, thereby force him back to the Light.

But, Lucifer did such great harm, such great hurt. So many innocents lost over the ages, victims of his twisted anger. Michael cast his mind out into the world, searching for Iolaus, wondering what the evil one had done to that gallant, fearless mortal. But, there was nothing, no sign. Michael tried to garner hope from that, certain he'd know if Iolaus' soul had been taken from the world.

Finally, his jaw clenched in hopeless frustration, Michael turned away, forcing his mind to other matters. He could do nothing. He could only wait.

And pray the Light would protect those who were the best warriors, the best guardians to have walked the earth in eons. Hercules and Iolaus, Guardians of the Light who still strode upon the earth, rejecting the gift of an eternity in the Light's bliss to do the Light's work amongst the mortals who needed them.

But, even though Michael knew they were both well loved, he also knew the Light would not interfere... this was a battle they must fight. The battle of life against everlasting death, of good against evil. It was a battle they had spent their lives preparing for, whether they had ever known that or not. A battle for more than their lives...a battle for their very souls.

With all his heart, Michael hoped they'd find the way to prevail.

* * *

It was midmorning when they first found the tracks, and read the disturbing message in the earth. A group of at least nine or ten men were herding a number of children...maybe half a dozen...toward the sea.

"The tracks are fresh," the hunter said, looking up from where he was kneeling on one knee, "no more than an hour or two old. And, they can't be moving very quickly...not with those little kids in the group." He pointed to the scuffling marks of the small footprints to illustrate his meaning.

Herc stood with his hands on his hips, frowning as he looked off in the direction the tracks led. "Well, looks like the rumours were true after all." Turning his gaze to his friend, "Come on...let's get us some bad guys."

The hunter nodded and stood, leading off with his eyes on the trail, moving at a quick jog, one hand on the hilt of his sword to keep it from bouncing while he ran. Herc jogged behind him, anxious to find the slavers and free the children they'd stolen.

It couldn't have been much more than a half hour later that they heard voices, harsh and cursing, not far ahead. His partner held up one hand, then moved forward cautiously, silently, to scope out the situation, Herc on his heels. They peered through the intervening forest, and saw the slavers arrayed around a cold camp, munching cheese and bread, swilling ale from their pigskin sacs, while the children huddled, chained and bruised under a tree. The kids looked terrified and exhausted, and ranged in age from about eight to twelve or thirteen.

The slavers were an assorted, unshaven and filthy lot, some thin, almost ragged in appearance, others burly and sullen, bullies with whips looped at their hips. All carried knives and swords. Some lounged on the ground, while others stood singly or in pairs, keeping a halfhearted lookout on the forest as they bolted down the hard, dry food.

The hunter and Herc exchanged a glance. Herc pointed to the left, held up two fingers, and then faded off to the right, while his partner moved to take up his position. In two minutes, they'd storm into the camp, taking the slavers by surprise. There were only a dozen of them...piece of cake.

The surprise was complete. The two warriors burst shouting into the camp, Hercules laying about him with a grim purpose, a stout length of wood in his hand, knocking out four before they'd even known what had hit them. His partner dove in brandishing his sword, skewering three before they could even turn to see who had shouted behind them. By then, the remaining slavers were alerted, and had pulled their own weapons from their sheaths. The blond whirled, his sword flashing and clanging against the weapons of the enemy, slashing to good effect, drawing blood and maiming the men he attacked. Hercules used the branch he carried to parry and block sword thrusts, twirling, one leg coming up to kick out at the men arrayed against him, sending three flying off balance. Herc knocked two more along the side of their heads with the solid, sturdy branch, causing them to fall, unconscious, to the ground. It was over almost before it had started.

The hunter wiped the blood from his sword onto the shirt of one of the men he had killed, and sheathed it before turning to examine the chains binding the children. Hercules had been moving to his side, when his eyes registered the carnage. His partner had killed at least five of the slavers...some by stabbing them from behind. Herc paused, shocked, his appalled gaze coming to rest on his partner's back.

The hunter turned to him, saying, "These'll need your attention, Hercules...quicker to break them apart than for me to pick the locks."

The kids gasped in awe at the sound of the big man's name...and their eyes widened with hope as they stared up at him.

Hercules didn't say anything, just moved to take the chains in his hands, snapping them as if they were no more than spun candy. He muttered under his breath to his friend, "You didn't have to kill them."

His partner turned to him, a cold look in his eyes. "Don't start, Hercules. These monsters stole these kids and were going to sell them into Tarturus. Death was too good for them."

Hercules frowned as he looked at his friend, shaking his head at the words. "Iolaus...what's going on? You never kill unless you have to...there was no reason. It's up to a judge to sentence them...and even a judge wouldn't have condemned them to death. They'd have gone to prison."

The youngsters listened with wide eyes, shaking still from fear and the horror of the blood and violence. The hunter looked at them, his eyes catching those of one of the older boys, as he replied, "Maybe I'm just tired of it, all of it. Send them to jail, and they just get out, to do this again. Who knows how many other kids they'll steal and sell, kill even, as soon as they get out again. Gods, Hercules, they are worse than scum... killing them is justice."

Appalled, Hercules pulled his partner away from the children, wanting to end the discussion. It could only upset and confuse the kids. "What's happened to you? Have you lost your mind? Has the fear of that Evil in the world driven you to strike out at any threat?" Before his partner could respond in irritated self-justification, Herc turned him around and pushed him toward the forest. "Nevermind," he said, "We'll discuss this later. Let's get some vines to tie these guys up. Then, we'll take them to the nearest village...there's one not far from here, on the far side of the hill. You kids, wait here for us...we won't be far away. We're going to make sure you get home. You don't have to be afraid anymore...you're safe now."

"Fine," Iolaus replied shortly, heading into the forest. But, he paused a moment as Herc went past him, to turn and look the boy deeply in the eyes...and then his glance moved to the men lying unconscious on the ground. Then, he turned and headed into the shadows.

* * *

While he tugged vines from the trees and wound them around his arm, Herc kept an uneasy eye on his partner, barely visible now through the trees. Gods...what had possessed Iolaus...he never killed from ambush, never murdered in cold blood.

And, then the cold, sickening possibility crept over him.

Michael had warned him, 'beware of illusions, trust your heart, listen to your soul'. Was Iolaus 'possessed'? Was it even Iolaus? Or, something else, something evil? And, if it wasn't Iolaus...then where...?

Herc's head came up and he scanned the forest to regain sight of the being who claimed to be his partner. But, he had disappeared from view. Alarmed, the demigod whirled and raced back to the clearing, afraid for the children.

When Hercules ran back out of the shadows, he stopped sharply, stunned for a moment by what he was seeing, his eyes wide. "STOP!" he cried to the boy who was standing over one of the unconscious slavers, a sword in his hand, ready to plunge it into the man's back. The child hesitated at the sudden cry, his head whipping up to stare at Hercules.

Herc ran forward into the centre of the clearing, tearing the sword from the child's grip. "What do you think you were going to do?" he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

The kid looked away, pale, tears shimmering in his eyes. "Your friend said they're better off dead...that killing them was justice. They don't deserve to live. They'll just hurt other kids someday."

"He was WRONG!" Herc almost shouted, throwing the sword away into the bush. "Killing is wrong...when you kill someone for revenge, when you kill someone helpless to defend themselves, you're as bad as they are. Don't you see that?"

The child cowered before him, confused, almost sick. He was beginning to understand what he'd almost done. But, it had seemed so right. Wanting to justify himself, he protested, "But, they hurt us...they beat us and starved us. They were going to sell us! They'll do it again if we let them!"

"You don't know that!" Herc answered back, then took a breath to calm himself. Running a hand through his hair, he continued, laying a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, "Listen to me, son. I know they hurt you, and they'll pay for that. But, you can't take justice into your own hands like some kind of vigilante. Killing is never the answer. Killing in fear or hatred would only steal your own soul...please, you have to understand. It's wrong."

The voice from behind him was mocking. "So, what are you going to do, Hercules...take the kid in for attempted murder? Give him a break...he was trying to do the right thing."

"Shut up," snapped Hercules without bothering to turn his head, pushed to the limits of his patience...more than half convinced this man behind him, whoever or whatever he was, wasn't his partner, but not yet afraid...as he should have been afraid.

It was the look in the kid's eyes, the disbelief and alarm, the mouth dropped open in consternation, that warned him. Shoving the kid away, Herc twisted aside, narrowly escaping the blade his partner had plunged down toward his back. The long, superficial cut along his ribs burned as he whirled to face the attack.

The hunter's eyes glittered with a kind of madness, and his face was distorted with a crazy grin as he stalked the larger man. "The kid was right to want to kill them, Hercules," the hunter said softly, "and I'm not going to let you hurt him for it."

Hercules frowned and shook his head slowly. His blood froze at the unbridled evil in those eyes, the fire of the hate, and his heart was gripped by fear for Iolaus...in the face of such demonic rage all doubts that had lingered about the possibility of any part of this creature being his friend vanished.

"You're not Iolaus," Herc grated, his eyes narrowing, his stance readying for battle.

The hunter laughed. "Who's 'lost his mind' now? Who else would I be, eh kids?" the hunter appealed to the children, the witnesses who would tell of this confrontation in the hills outside Argos. "You're Hercules and everyone knows I'm Iolaus...your partner, your best friend."

Herc shook his head and spared a quick glance at the children, waved a hand toward the path out of the clearing. "Get out of here...follow the path to the road, then head west to the city. You'll be alright. Go."

But, they hesitated, mesmerized by the drama playing out before their eyes. They didn't understand it, not any of it. But, one man, Iolaus, had killed many of the men who had been stealing them away and said he was protecting them now from Hercules. But, everyone knew Hercules was a hero. It didn't make any sense...they were frightened and confused.

Herc backed away from the man stalking him, leading him farther from the children. Impatient, not having time to deal with the kids, no time to reassure them, he shouted, "RUN! Get AWAY! NOW!"

Several pulled at the others and that was all it took. In moments, the kids were pelting off along the path through the forest to safety.

Hercules kept his eyes on the man he had thought was his friend. "Where is he? What have you done to Iolaus?" he asked, the steel of anger in his voice as the horrible realization that Iolaus was at grave risk grew in his mind.

The hunter stooped quickly to pick up a sword in his left hand, the right hand still brandishing the knife, moving it in slow, smooth circles as he moved toward Hercules. Herc as quickly bent to pick up the length of wood he'd abandoned earlier.

"What makes you so sure I'm not Iolaus?" the blond asked edging closer, a smile playing on his lips.

Herc shook his head, circling away. "Iolaus wouldn't have killed men with no reason...and he'd never have counselled children to kill. And he sure as Tarturus wouldn't be trying to kill me. You're Lucifer...you're the one Michael warned me about."

"Can you be sure of that, Hercules?" the blond taunted. "Sure enough to kill me to keep me from killing you?"

Herc nodded slowly, wondering if he was sure...and growing ever more concerned about his buddy. Iolaus had been possessed before...could it have happened again? But, little things, words and phrases this creature had used now made it all seem so clear...the monster had never once called him anything but 'Hercules'... and, when he'd talked about Lucifer's hate, he'd never referred to himself as a mortal, he never said 'me' when he referred to Iolaus...the toneless whistling...the cold skin in the heat of the day. Iolaus was no part of this thing...the presence standing in front of him was no more than a conjurer's trick, the appearance, but not the substance of the hero he pretended to be.

Why hadn't he realized it sooner? Michael had as much as told him...if not in specific words, then by his warning and behaviour. Gods, Iolaus was in deadly danger and Herc hadn't even noticed his buddy wasn't there...what kind of friend did that make him? How could he have been so blind? Herc's gut twisted in self-disgust and anxiety. What had this thing done to Iolaus? Herc's eyes burned with profound hatred, as he tried to dampen, deny, his fear that this monster had killed his best friend.

"I'm sure," Herc replied finally, his voice flat and uncompromising. "Tell me what you did to him."

"Maybe he's here, maybe I've mastered his soul...and if you kill me, you'll kill him as well. How would you ever know? Could you live with that Hercules? Always wondering if you'd murdered your best friend, damned his soul to everlasting darkness?" The being who looked like Iolaus, sounded like Iolaus, moved like Iolaus, taunted Hercules, touching on the doubt, the fear he believed the demigod had to be feeling, revelling in it.

"You can't be killed...you're not mortal." But, then, Hercules wondered if that was true...it was this creature who had told him that. Could he believe anything it said? "I know Iolaus would never surrender his soul to you. You're an illusion, not real," Hercules asserted, desperately hoping he was right...that Iolaus wasn't locked somewhere inside this demon, unable to break free, hostage to all that was happening.

"Oh, I'm real alright," the Devil replied, whirling suddenly to plunge his sword into the back of one of the unconscious slavers. "Real enough to kill these useless creatures...real enough to kill you."

Herc lunged to drive the demon away from the bodies of the unconscious slavers, caught by the irony of realizing he was now their protector. The demon whirled away, laughing, taunting, blue eyes dancing with unholy delight.

But, Herc kept coming, swinging the long staff of wood, bringing it down hard on his opponent's sword arm. Startled, the Devil dropped the sword, then lunged in himself, but Herc twisted away from the knife, and brought the staff back around hard into the demon's body.

When the blond stumbled, Herc moved in grimly, and grappled with Lucifer, one hand squeezing the wrist holding the knife, pushing it away and back, while his other hand gripped the demon's throat, lifting him from the ground. "What have you done to Iolaus? Where is he?" Herc shouted furiously, desperate to know what had happened to Iolaus.

Angry now, the Devil kicked out with inhuman strength and twisted free, slashing with the knife, only to meet thin air as the demigod dodged then pivotted, moving in again, relentlessly. Herc hauled off and slugged him, sending him flying across the clearing to hit hard against a tree, bouncing off to land on his feet, as if nothing had happened. He was indestructible. There was no way to stop him, to destroy him.

"That pitiful mortal! He's all you really care about, isn't he? You'd do anything for him, to save him. Well, you can't save him, oh mighty Hercules. I've poisoned him...and I'm going to kill him. And there's nothing you can do to stop me!" Lucifer raged, growing tired of the game.

"Tell me where he is," Hercules roared, unwilling to believe there was nothing that could be done to help his friend. If Iolaus was alive, he could be saved.

Laughing coldly, the monster replied thinly. "He might be right here," he said, pointing at himself, "or he might not be all that far from here. Let's just say he's not far away, but you'll never be able to find him, never be really sure where he is. Accept it, Hercules...your friend is beyond your help."

"Maybe not," came a rasping gasp from the south edge of the clearing. Iolaus had lain less than half a mile away. The screams and shouts had penetrated the shroud that covered him. He'd recognized Herc's voice...and his own. Desperate, he had gritted his teeth against the agony that washed over him as he rolled to move toward the voices, refusing to be mastered by it, drawing on every scrap of his will and determination though it cost him everything he had.

Hercules was close...and still alive. There was still time to warn him, to help him. He had to get to Hercules.

Gripping the knife, he'd reached out and plunged it deep into the earth ahead of him, using it as a kind of anchor to help drag himself forward..again, and again. Over and over, panting with the effort, forcing his muscles to respond, biting down on his lip and gasping against the urge to shriek with the hideous torment of the pain which raged through him, Iolaus had inched his way forward. Gods, it had seemed to take forever...his muscles weak and protesting, his mind wanting desperately to let go, wanting to surrender to the agony, wanting it only to end.

But, nothing, not his body, not his mind, would stop his soul from reaching his friend.

No evil was great enough to bind that love, to stop a soul driven by that love to save the one who meant more than his life to him. The shallow temptation of less pain if only he'd remain still was not enough to overcome the determination of a love so deep it defined his very being.

And so, finally, he'd made it to the clearing to put the lie to the Devil's words.

Two sets of startled blue eyes sought the source of those rasped words. In less than a heartbeat, Hercules was racing to his buddy's side, alarmed by the deathly pale face, the grim lines of pain and gaunt haunted look in his friend's eyes, and his battered, earthstained appearance as he lay gasping on the ground.

Lucifer howled in rage, also running toward the mortal he hated above all others, furious that the mortal had broken past the bindings the Devil had crafted to entrap him.

The demigod and the demon crashed together, and consumed by his unearthly rage, the Devil smashed Hercules aside, tossing him as if he was no more than a child, away from the demon's prey. Lucifer was maddened by his fury. He'd known he could confuse the demigod, that that was his advantage, into not being sure that Iolaus was not somewhere locked in the body he was fighting...until Iolaus had appeared, putting an end to the illusion. Until that moment, there had been a chance he could have driven Hercules into killing the body he wore, the demigod never knowing whether or not he'd murdered his best friend.

Lucifer would have killed him then, the doubt haunting the demigod's eyes as he died...or perhaps let him live, driven mad by the guilt of a tormented, guilty soul.

But the mortal had ruined it, ruined it all. Just like he'd ruined the near destruction of all mortal life. By overcoming all barriers and boundaries, his love for this half-mortal, half-god driving him relentlessly on.

Well, Lucifer could still make them pay, still make them feel the hopeless bitterness that consumed his own soul. Reaching Iolaus' side, he kicked the mortal over onto his back and dropped down to straddle him, the knife he still carried against Iolaus' throat. Iolaus glared up at him, winded, exhausted and in terrible pain, but undaunted...knowing he might well be about to die, but this creature would never have his soul.

Herc would have a chance to fight back, unencumbered by doubts, his own righteous anger giving him unbounded strength. It was the best Iolaus could do, the only chance, the only hope he had of saving his friend. To give his own life, if need be, that Herc would be free to fight...and win.

Hercules had picked himself up and was again racing across the clearing. Vaguely, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the slavers struggling back to consciousness, the ones who still breathed. They were pulling themselves together, and slipping away into the forest, not understanding what was going on, only knowing they had a chance to get away with their lives.

Herc knew they were going, but he couldn't have cared less at that point. His eyes were glued to the knife at Iolaus' throat, and he pulled up a few paces away, his hands outstretched. "Please," he pleaded quietly, fighting for a calm he couldn't feel, "don't do this...don't kill him."

"What do you offer me, Hercules?" the demon asked with deadly quiet.

Herc looked into the cold, flat blue eyes, into the face he had mistaken for his friend, and marvelled that he could have been so deceived. "Take my life...I won't fight you, if you'll spare his," he answered simply.

"I'd rather have your soul," the Devil responded, smiling coldly, his eyes full of hate.

Iolaus' fingers gripped the knife he'd used to drag himself to this place, and he used all his remaining strength to bring it up and plunge it into the demon's side, gasping, "NO!"

Startled, not expecting any further resistance from the wasted mortal, Lucifer lurched at the assault, the knife at Iolaus' throat jerking away, then jabbing down, more by reflex than intent, burying itself deep in the warrior's left shoulder. Iolaus cried out at the new searing agony, and Hercules leapt forward with a shout of rage and fear, grabbing the demon who wrenched the knife from Iolaus' body, but was too slow to stab Hercules. Enraged, Hercules hurtled him away from his wounded friend.

Herc stood between his fallen comrade and the monster who was determined to kill them both, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. He couldn't kill the thing, couldn't destroy it. Lucifer was Evil Incarnate, and he would wear them down, murder them both. Herc could only fight as long as he was able, unwilling to let the creature near Iolaus again, at least not so long as he was able to protect him.

"You can try to kill us both...but you'll never have our souls. And you'll never destroy everything we have ever stood for...those who know us will never believe your lies, and the truth will live. The truth will inspire others to fight you, your evil, in their own way," Hercules snarled, waiting for the next attack, ready for it.

Lucifer growled, as he transformed back into his own shape, pulling the knife from his side and flinging it, and the knife he had used to stab Iolaus, away. The Devil glared down at the demigod confronting him, standing strong and sure before the sprawled body of his best friend. In his black, twisted heart, he wished he still had the powers he'd had as a Guardian...the power to send a bolt of energy to incinerate these two beings he despised as he'd despised no others.

But, the powers of the Light had been stripped from him when he'd fallen from grace. He had the powers of illusion, of temptation. He could command lesser demons, like the serpent which had struck Iolaus the day before. He could take on various forms himself, and use them to maim and murder, and he had an unholy strength. But, if he could not deceive his victims into their own destruction, he could only use the traits of the bodies he assumed to commit his own deadly deeds.

Herc spared a quick glance back and down to Iolaus, and his eyes met eyes that burned back into his own, burned with regret and grief. Burned with a despair, that Iolaus could not stand with him this time, too weak and hurt to fight any more. Burned with love, and commitment...and understanding. Iolaus, too, knew they would die here. He wanted to tell Herc to run, to get away. But, Iolaus knew it was hopeless. There was nowhere to run that was far enough to escape the Devil's reach, not if he was determined to kill the demigod. They were about to find out if Hercules was mortal or immortal. If he couldn't be killed either, then Lucifer couldn't win.

It might only be a draw...but a draw with the Devil in a fight to the death, a draw that left souls intact, was a win.

Iolaus' eyes sparked with the meaning of these thoughts...and the possibility they evoked. Maybe...maybe he could defeat Lucifer with the idea that the Devil couldn't win this round. Tearing his eyes from Hercules, Iolaus' gaze sought and held the demon's eyes. "You can't kill him, Lucifer," he gasped, his voice clear in the silence of the clearing. "You forgot...Herc's a demigod...you can fight him forever, but you were doomed from the start to lose this battle. I might die...but I'm just one more mortal...a waste of your time. But, you can't ever kill Hercules...you haven't the power."

At his words, Hercules flashed his eyes back to the demon, and he straightened with assurance, lending truth to Iolaus' words. He stood fearless and ready, conveying his willingness to battle for all eternity, if that's what it took to fend off this demon and distract it from other evil in the world.

"You're lying," cried Lucifer. "You dragged yourself here in the vain hope of saving his life!"

Iolaus laughed weakly. "No...to save him from the illusion of having killed me. To save him from that torment...it might have driven him beyond the bounds of reason." Iolaus paused, gasping for breath, then finished, "You've lost...just like you'll always lose. Herc is...love...hope. You can't destroy that...you can't destroy him."

Another being flashed into the clearing, standing quietly to the side, not interfering, simply watching. Distracted, Lucifer's gaze flashed to the intruder and frowned when he recognized Michael. "Is it true? Is the demigod immortal?"

Michael cocked an amused brow as he smiled. "It's true he has the blood of the immortals the Light created in this world...yes, Iolaus has spoken the truth."

Michael held the eyes of his erstwhile, and much mourned comrade, not regretting the lie. It might, after all, be the truth...he just didn't know. But, Iolaus' statement that Hercules embodied love and hope was certainly true, and that was enough to have given conviction to his tone and stance.

Lucifer had rarely known such impotent rage...not since he'd first decried the creation of these foul mortals, and had himself expelled from the presence of the Light. Gratified, knowing it was over, Michael saw the acknowledgement of defeat in the Devil's gaze before he turned his burning eyes, flaming red with the passion of his hatred, upon Iolaus. "I loathe you beyond all imagining...you are the one who saved this world of mortals when they should have all been destroyed. At least, I can have the satisfaction of knowing that I have removed you from this world."

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and a long sinuous black snake slithered over Iolaus' body, faster than the eye could see or limbs react. Iolaus shouted breathlessly as the minion of evil locked it's jaws in the side of his neck, driving its poison into his blood, to mingle with the poison it had left behind only a day before. Hercules whirled at his friend's cry and, horrified, he grabbed the serpent with both hands, twisting it, pulling at it desperately, but unable to break its deathgrip on Iolaus' neck.

Lucifer laughed with wild, maniacal abandon, the evil in his voice swelling to fill the clearing and the forest which surrounded them, rising to the heavens above.

Herc found himself shouldered aside as Michael waded in and grabbed the serpent, wrenching it away from its victim, and hurling it to the ground, where Michael stomped on the evil creature with righteous rage, grinding it into the dirt, until it exploded into nothing more than a cloud of dust. Herc fell to his knees and gathered Iolaus into his arms, not wanting to believe what was happening, not wanting to accept there was nothing they could do.

The Devil was still consumed with his unholy glee, his laughter a scourge on their souls, as he drank in the anguish of the demigod and revelled in the pain of the mortal as Iolaus struggled for breath.

Michael turned to him, terrible in his glory and power, the preeminent Guardian of the Light. "You have no RIGHT!" he thundered. "You'd conceded defeat...they'd beaten you. You have no right to this diabolical revenge on Iolaus...the test was over...you have no right to steal his life!"

But, Lucifer was unrepentent. "Who is there to stop me? You cannot intercede in this domain!" he sneered. Then, the Devil laughed again with a cold cruelty as he snarled, "Watch him die, Hercules...feel him grow cold. And, remember me."

Blinding, brilliant light suddenly burst from the heavens, and fell upon the Incarnation of Evil. Howling with fury, denying the Light could be banishing him from this place, Lucifer writhed, screaming that they'd deserved to know his wrath. And then he vanished, as if he had never been, the blinding illumination still pouring onto the empty space in the clearing the only evidence he'd been there at all.

The light...and the broken, dying man in Hercules' arms.

"Iolaus," Herc whispered, tears brimming in his eyes, "please...no...."

Iolaus bit his lip against the agony of pain which swirled through his veins, driving the breath from his body, causing his muscles to lock in the spasm of approaching death. "It's alright...Herc..." he sighed, knowing he had little time left, "we beat him."

Hercules looked up and around wildly, seeking Michael, finding him standing beside them. "Help him," he begged. "Please...you can't just let him die like this...."

Michael went down on one knee, laying an infinitely gentle hand on Iolaus' brow, a deep sadness in his eyes at the pain the mortal had to bear as encroaching death stole his life away. "I can't, Hercules. It is not in my power to save his life." Michael knew there might yet be hope, but they had to find their own way.

"He doesn't deserve this!" Hercules raged, tearing his desperate gaze from Michael's, to look back into Iolaus' eyes...eyes that were dimming as his buddy lost the struggle to breathe. "Come on, Iolaus, you have to fight...you can't give up! Please, gods, please...Iolaus...."

His buddy fought the pain, fought for air, and knew it was hopeless. There were only moments left. Blinking, he sought Herc's gaze, and sent all the love in his soul through the look he gave his best friend. And then he smiled...a last blazing glorious smile of victory. They had won. Herc was alive. Their souls were intact. He was still smiling as the poison gripped his heart, squeezing the life from his body.

Herc saw the light fading from those eyes as Iolaus slipped farther away, and a moan slipped past the gigantic lump in his throat. "Nooo..." he protested with soulwrenching grief as he pulled Iolaus's body against his own. He bowed his head and wept, inconsolable, falling into a chasm of despair he knew was bottomless. "Nooooo...." he whispered through his tears.

Michael sat quietly, watching, grieving at the pain Hercules was suffering. The Guardian knew he would see Iolaus in the Light...but that knowledge would bring no solace to Iolaus' bereft friend. Nor did he believe Iolaus would ever find contentment in the Light without Hercules by his side. Michael did not need to speak with Iolaus to know what that eternal warrior would choose given the chance. But, much as he wanted to intervene, it was not in his power to hold onto Iolaus' life.

Hercules shuddered, overwhelmed with grief and anger, desperate to hold onto his best friend, to deny the death that was only a heartbeat away. He lifted his head, and saw the brilliant Light still streaming into the forest glade.

Gathering Iolaus into his arms, Hercules strode into the midst of that brilliance, throwing his head back to cry to the Light. "Please, it is in YOUR power to grant his life. Take my life in his place if that is what must be...but, I beg you...don't take my friend. Let him live!" Herc held Iolaus tight against his chest, his love for his best friend overcoming all other emotion, all other thought.

He'd give anything to save Iolaus...he'd hold nothing back.

The demigod who had spent his life at war with the gods, denying the legitimacy of any greater power, surrendered then, surrendered himself, surrendered all that he was, for love of the dying man he held in his arms. "Take my soul!" he whispered hoarsely, tears streaming down his face.

The illumination exploded around them, blinding in its hot brilliance, as the pure essence of the love of the universe flowed down upon them, echoing the love Hercules had sent forth, resonating with it with such power it drove Hercules to his knees. The Light permeated their beings, touching their hearts, their souls, healing the grief...the pain...making them whole.

And, then it was gone, leaving only the soft summer light of the afternoon sun in its place.

Hercules stared down at Iolaus, and saw that the wounds from the serpant's bite, and the knife, were gone. Iolaus was shaken, trembling with the remembered power of the Light, the echoes of the bliss he had known. He gazed up into Herc's eyes, and then he smiled with a boundless joy. The Light had spared them both...had acknowledged their victory against the power of evil...and had restored the balance love had demanded.

Iolaus' love, which had overcome the unearthy, unholy torment of the depths of hell and had driven him to sacrifice all he had, all he was, to save Hercules. And, Hercules' love, which offered his life and his soul to save Iolaus.

Hercules blinked against his tears, casting his eyes up to the heavens and he shuddered with gratitude, his lips trembling as he fought for control. "Thank you..." he whispered, overcome.

Michael smiled as he gazed at the two warriors of the Light. "The two of you battled Evil Incarnate and won...battled him on his terms, and won on yours. You each were willing to give all you had out of love for the other. Know this, both of you....know this always. The two of you stand in and for the Light...and the Light loves you both, without end."

Herc nodded wordlessly as Michael faded from view, then helped his buddy to his feet. He laid a hand on his best friend's shoulder, then pulled Iolaus into his arms, holding him in an embrace of infinite love, remembering that Iolaus had chosen this life over the bliss of the Light, chosen to stand here with him, chosen to fight the darkness in whatever form it took. That moment of blinding glory, as the Light had washed over and through them, had given Hercules the knowledge of what Iolaus had once given up for him. Herc knew now, really knew, that whenever he stood with Iolaus by his side, that they were both standing in the Light.

Lucifer's name might mean 'light', but his soul was twisted, dark with evil and he had turned away from the love that was still, and always would be, freely offered to him.

Iolaus was only a mortal, but he carried the Light of Love in his soul....and Herc was often an uneasy being caught between mortality and the divine...but he had dedicated his life, and his soul, to forever battle the Evil that threatened the Light of Love in the world.

That love would always be their foundation, their strength and salvation.

As they each looked around, regaining their balance in this imperfect world, they saw again the bodies of the men the Devil had murdered. With one accord, they set to work burying the dead, and then turned to head out through the forest.

There were slavers to be captured, and taken to justice.

Finis