AN: To ( ): Thanks so much for the review, I appreciate it. Yes, now he has met the Halliwells, and been kidnapped. And now, the Halliwells will play a big part in the whole of the story.

Now, it's all black, and it's dark, and before it was bright and...

I groggily opened my eyes, and wondered where the hell I was. I blinked. The ceiling was black. And it wasn't black nothing, but palpable black. The next logical step was to look around me, but I couldn't move my head. I decided to go out on a limb and called: "Hello?"

"And our savior," this was said sarcastically and it seriously reminded me of the Doctor in Star Trek, Voyager, "is awake!"

A face appeared above mine, and I knew that face.

"You're dead!" I accused him.

"And you, stole, my, book," he accused straight back at me. "But that's okay," he said generously,"because I still have the most important book," he said, reaching his hand out of my sight and brought back a quite thin, leather bound book. "It used to be a scroll, but I like books better, so I, um, turned it into a book." He looked nervously at me.

"Um, that's great," I said.

"Perfect! I also took the liberty to kill your parents, and, your, uh, well, family, so that you won't have any emotional bonds to them. That's okay, right?" he asked.

I was speechless.

"You are lying," I told him, slowly.

"What? No," he said, dragging out the 'no' more than necessary. "But what am I thinking about, talking to you that way? Silly me."

He then bunched up the hem of my shirt, and put it into my mouth.

Aren't you going to try and free yourself?

Well, well, I , I, he just said that my family is dead!

I'm sure that they are of good health...

Yes, because never talking is healthy.

Oh, you mean them? Yeah, they're probably dead...

What?

"Sorry it took so long, this book doesn't have an index and it's written with millimeter letters." I tried saying that he only had to untie me, and not do it, but it came out sounding garbled thanks to the cloth in my mouth.

"What? Are you suggesting that I create an index? Are you an imbecile? Oh, how silly of me, of course you are," the man said. "Oh, and to make it less traumatic for you, I will tell you what this ritual entail."

I tried to tell him to just do it, since I wanted to get home as soon as possible to see whether he was lying or not. Thankfully, he seemed to get what I was trying to convey with grunts and eye-rolling.

*chant

Black smoke, or mist, rose from the floor, the ceiling, and probably the walls, but since I couldn't see them, I wasn't entirely sure.

For some reason, the Source was terrified. I was weirded out.

Liar!

More black smoke, or mist, appeared in the air, until it formed a person.

*chant

There came even more smoke, or mist, and then I recognised him. I think that I did, at least. That androgynous face.

*chant

The man made out of smoke, or mist, dove into me, and i'm sure that I would have screamed, had I been able to.

As it was, the source performed those duties most excellently. The last thing I saw, before I passed out, was the man nervoulsy chewing on his fingernails, while sweating. I never thought it possible to glisten without a lamp overhead, but he managed with few, really crappy candles.

I wasn't very old, really, I was eight, Simon was my best friend, and mom was talking. She kept saying 'oh', and I didn't understand why.

"Mom?" I had asked, tentatively.

"Oh, Benjy," she had answered, and I still don't get why I let her call me that. It's so fuckin' silly, really, fuckin' silly, as a matter of fact.

She never answered, instead she kept on muttering, and I decided to sit on the balcony; we lived in an apartment back then.

I was till so short, so fuckin' short, that I could sit on a chair and swing my legs. I think that I sat there for hours, and even though I, when the 'ohs' became too loud,had slammed the door shut, I could still hear the 'ohs'.

Finally though, I could hear the door, the one that led out and in of the apartment, opened and shut.

I jumped of the chair (I know that I did it, but now, for the life of me, I can't figure out how I did it), opened the balcony door, and ran to dad, hugging his legs.

"Dad, mom's been saying 'oh' all day, what does it mean?"

"I don't know Benjy, your guess is as good as mine."

That was back in the olden days, even though I didn't remember the orphanage or anything, they were trying to make me feel as if they were family, not really realizing, how fuckin' stupid they were behaving.

"Oh, it's so horrible, or wonderful, um, oh," mom said, hugging dad.

"I'm sure it's wonderful," dad had said, and made this face at me that meant 'women, what can you do?' He always did that, at least five times a day, and that was on a day when he spent most of the day at work.

"Well come on, tell us," dad had said.

"Oh, I, oh dear, well, I, oh, I oh, Ben, I, oh, um, oh, eh, would, um, oh, I'm pregnant!" she had yelled, after the longest, and most useless, sentence in history.

How could anyone be so fuckin' annoying? I know that I shouldn't say that, if she's actually dead, but she can't be, she just can't.

As usual, the perfect solution to the gigantic problem was easy. It was so easy. Problem was, I suddenly found myself fearing death. Yes, those two facts are connected and they have nothing to do with a revolution, things that I detest. I have nothing against freedom, or the act itself, I participated in one myself, but all the death of civilians, and demons that gets happy and then start killing each other, pretty much spells trouble. Anyway, the problem had nothing to do with stopping a revolution. Though it sort of did.

I quite fancied the idea of me, stopping a revolution (a sort of one), when I normally don't care, since caring always makes things difficult.

"Why do you have to stop a revolution?" my friend, and partner in the Death Business, asked.

"Because it's not going to be a pretty revolution," I explained.

"They don't tend to be pretty, Hades, what sort of dream world have you been living in your whole life?"

"The Titans are coming back, Hel, and that's bad, you just wasn't there to see it."

"Well, okay, I can still see when a plan is true madness! Why did you even tell me? You are going to sit in that chair until you rot, because I am not going to let you go, you utter idiot!" she screamed, and that was something that she was good at. She was also good at making you weak in the knees, whether of fright or beauty, that's a whole different matter.

"Hel, please," I pleaded.

"Please what? Please kill me? Or please, let me rot away in this chair for your own, fucking good?"

I might have done a few miscalculations, telling Hel. We had been friends for centuries, and yet I hadn't realized that this was how she would react.

Though, after yelling at me for about an hour, she had to get something to drink, since all that yelling was a bit of a strain even on her throat, a throat that was practically legend all by itself, and had nothing to with Hel.

While she was away, and stupidly had not set anyone to the task of watching me, I took to the shadows (literally, and it's not as hard as it sounds), to find my brother.

I finally did, at the bottom of the sea, which in itself isn't that weird, considering he is known as an ocean god.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, glad that Poseidon's palace, at least, had air. Of course, Poseidon also had a throne, which I was standing in front of.

I was slightly (very) vexed that he didn't bother getting a chair for me, or treat me like an equal.

"What do you want?" Poseidon asked me, lounging on his throne and still looking quite young, unlike me who had wrinkles, and gray hair, but that did make me look rather dignified.

"I want to die," I said, quickly.

Poseidon's reaction was hilarious, his chin nearly falling to the floor, making him look like a fish, and his eyebrows rose to the ceiling.

"You, you, what?"

Oh, damn it, he reacted the same way that Hel reacted.

"I'll kill you, sure, I just want to know why? I mean, you know what happens when you die, and your life doesn't suck that much, right?" There was a sort of hopeful look on his face, saying 'I hope your life sucks, or that you're really stupid, or that you're crazy, or something else really bad'. I've never seen a more expressive face in my long life. "Oh, is it Circe?"

Circe was my old flame, so to speak. We had an affair years ago, and it resulted in a child. I think that he was cursed a few years ago, or maybe decades, or even centuries, but he'll come back. Fear always does. We named him Barbas, in the hope of him becoming a barber, but that never happened.

"No, father is coming back." His face scrunched up in confusion, making him look closer to his age.

"What does that have to do with you being suicidal? It won't solve anything."

"It will, you'll just have to trust me."

"Bah! Trust you? Well, you've got a point there, I suppose. After Zeus, you were the best at fighting, sooooo..." I've never, in my long life, heard anyone drag out the word 'so' so much. Well, Poseidon always was one for doing the impossible.

In the end, he did kill me, after I had told him the plan, with a few tweaks. He doesn't have to know all the details, does he?

He doesn't have to know about the prophesied child, or the fact that his way of killing me will leave the prophesied child deadly afraid of water.

AN: Right, so I hoped that the readers of this story liked this chapter, Hades was quitefun to write. I'm thinking of doing a one-shot with him, Circe, Hel and Penny. Does that interest anyone?

Anyway, please review.