Chapter Two

The fish were plentiful. The river was cold since it was winter, but Iolaus still wanted to fish. Sam had shown him how to use a modern fishing pole, but it did not feel right in his hands. Iolaus had crafted an ancient fishing pole with his own two hands. It was made of wood and had a metal spear on the end of it. He stood in the stream and watched for fish. A fish swam by his feet.
With great precision, Iolaus thrusted the pole into the water and struck the fish on its side. It came up limp. Iolaus smiled to himself, grateful to be away from the noise of the modern world. Everything moved so fast now. The cars were loud and everyone was in a constant hurry. He needed time to himself sometimes, away from the monsters and the others. Being immortal took adjustment. He would always be in this world now.
He had not let his immortality change him. Dean had also become immortal, and Iolaus could see the change in him daily. He wondered what had happened to the young God. The young immortal was full of pride and arrogance. He did not find interest in things he once enjoyed. Iolaus was determined to use his own immortality for good. He had been an old hunter in the ancient world.
Now he hunted with Hercules once again, but he had to use modern weapons and new training. The monsters of today were not the same as they were during Iolaus' own time on Earth. He hated the feel of the gun in his hand. It was too brutal a weapon in his mind, so he refused to use them and still carried a sword in his hands. Hercules had given him the sword of Perseus. He wielded it expertly.
Footsteps in the woods caught his attention. He smiled again, instantly recognizing the sound of his best friend's feet lightly stepping on broken branches so not to startle Iolaus.
"You've got quite a pile here," Hercules motioned to the pile of fish on the ground, "using the old way, I see."
"I like fishing this way," Iolaus said as he climbed out of the river, "it's more relaxing. What are you doing here?"
"Sam seems to have left us," Hercules replied, "and I had a vision of his father. I think he's been using dark magic behind our backs. Dean didn't say anything about his father, but he did say something about Sam leaving."
Iolaus frowned in thought. "Sam doesn't think he belongs with us. I think he has a hard time being the only mortal among us."
"He told you this?" Hercules asked.
"I can sense it." Iolaus confirmed as he gathered up the fish in a net.
"You were always intuitive," Hercules replied, "Dean is upset, although he doesn't want to admit it. I think Sam brought his father back to life."
"What do you plan to do about it?" Iolaus asked.
"At the moment?" Hercules began. "Nothing. There's nothing I can do. If Sam's using dark forces to accomplish his goals, that's a consequence he'll have to face on his own."
A flash of white light interrupted their conversation. Castiel appeared before them, with a large wound in his side. His hands were bound with chains. Hercules approached the fallen angel.
"Castiel," Hercules called, "what's happened?"
"Dean!" Castiel croaked as he lay on the ground in pain. "He struck me with a strange knife. Then he placed these chains on me. I managed to get away, but I can't get them off. I feel myself being taken somewhere else—I needed to warn you!"
"Why would Dean do something like this?" Iolaus asked as he tried to remove the angel's chains. Hercules tried to heal his wound, but nothing happened.
"This is a Greek weapon," Hercules informed them, "There's only one person that could have it. ARES!" He bellowed into the wilderness.
Castiel began to flicker out of existence. Hercules held onto his hands, trying to stop the teleportation. It was futile. Castiel flickered out of sight, crying in pain as he was pulled away from them. Iolaus watched him go with fury in his heart. Dean had betrayed them.
"Our group is splintering," Hercules told him as they ran towards the old church, "Ares is behind this."
"What's he up to now?" Iolaus wondered.
They reached the church and went inside. It was well lived in now. There was furniture and beds. They even had a television set and a stereo. Iolaus never got out of breath now when he ran. He could run forever and not get tired. They gathered up their weapons. Hercules held thunderbolts in his hands and Iolaus gathered up his sword. They vanished in a flash of light.
When they reappeared, they were standing before a sprawling mansion near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. A monster awaited them. A black, two headed beast with a long neck roared at them.
"It's a Hydra!" Iolaus said as he dodged the creature's angry swipe. "Where did Ares get a Hydra from?"
Hercules sprang into action, throwing a thunderbolt at the large creature. The Hydra cried out and disintegrated. A flash of blue light caught their attention. Ares stood before them, with a knife in his right hand.
"I knew you'd come for Castiel," Ares said, "but who will you save—the angel or Iolaus?"
With a flick of his hand, the knife soared through the air before Iolaus had time to act. The knife pierced his side. Iolaus felt the immortality draining from his body. He collapsed to the ground, unable to move. Ares vanished in a flash of light.
"Ioalus!" Hercules cried. "It's hinds blood. Here, I have to remove the knife."
Iolaus gritted his teeth. Hercules reached down to his side and yanked on the knife. Another Hydra emerged from the darkness.
"Another time," Hercules said, "I have to heal you first."
Hercules gathered Iolaus' into his arms. They teleported to a nearby hotel. Hercules lay Iolaus on the bed and placed his hands onto his side. The wound began to heal. Iolaus felt weak. His side burned with pain.
"It's going to take some time to heal you fully," Hercules lamented, "you need to rest."
Iolaus fell into a fitful sleep, concerned for his angel friend and concerned for Dean. They would have to save them both.

Castiel lay in a large room on the cold, stone floor. Pain radiated throughout his body. His grace was leaving him. Ares towered over him, absorbing the grace leaking out of his wound. Dean stood in the corner, watching with disgust on his face. Castiel would try to save him from Ares' control.
"Dean," Castiel croaked, "I pulled you out of the grave!"
Dean tilted his head, but did not move. "You betrayed us! You're ushering in the apocalypse with Michael!"
Castiel blinked at him, a little surprised by the accusation. Clearly the God of War had been feeding him lies to further his own twisted agenda. The angels had gone to war with the Greek Gods for a reason: they were petty and cruel. They tormented mankind. Castiel felt more strength draining from his body. It hurt. He had never felt such pain. Ares was taking his life—and his friend was helping him.
He felt betrayed. He had stuck his neck out for the Winchesters on more than one occasion. They were his companions. Dean had let his immortality change him. He had let Ares' manipulate and control him. Castiel had to make Dean see the error of his ways.
"Dean, you're my friend." He whispered desperately. "Set me free!"
"I could make it so you can't talk," Ares threatened as he finally stepped away from the fallen angel, "so watch your mouth."
Dean looked at him with doubt on his handsome face. "I think that's enough for now, Ares."
"Wow," Ares said as he flexed his muscles, "what a rush! Imagine what all their grace will feel like, Dean!"
Ares was drunk on power. Castiel used his remaining strength to send a message to Michael. He hoped he had enough power left so that the other angel could hear it. Castiel tried to breath deeply, but all he could manage were shallow, labored breaths of exhaustion. Ares smiled wickedly at him and walked into the other room, leaving him alone with Dean.
"Dean," Castiel began, "it hurts to breath. Set me free!"
Something cracked in Dean's features. He approached Castiel slowly, as if he was unsure of him.
"I can help your breathing, I think." Dean reassured him. "But you're staying here. It will solve the problem of the apocalypse, Cas."
"No it won't," he replied, "Ares has you fooled!"
"You're the one that wants to start a war between us," Dean accused him, "he needs your grace for oncoming fight!"
Dean placed his hands on Castiel's chest. His breathing eased and the pain in his side subsided. "There. That's all I can manage—healing an angel is exhausting!"
"Set me free, Dean." Castiel said gently, trying to appeal to his better nature.
Dean Winchester had to be in there somewhere underneath all of that newfound power. Castiel just had to find it. The fact that he had healed him gave him hope. Maybe with enough time, Castiel could save Dean from his dark fate. He would not survive a war with angels. They had the power to kill gods like him. They had wiped out an entire God class all over the world when heaven was created.
"I'm not feeling so hot," Dean confessed, "I think I'll go rest a while."
His own breathing was labored now. Immortals were not meant to heal angels. Castiel hoped some of his humanity would return. Dean walked out of the room. Castiel lay on the floor, still in pain and misery. Castiel hoped his friends would find him.