Stalking Moon

His sword propped on one shoulder, Iolaus shielded his eyes to look toward the setting sun, gauging how long they had before it dropped below the distant cliffs. Not long enough, he judged. Twilight crept across the sky, purple gray smudges that seemed to grow out from the mountains. Come on, Herc. Hurry. "Right, I knew it was a lousy idea," he muttered. "'I'll go look for tracks or a nest, you stay here in case it attacks in daylight.' Uh huh, sure."

He went back to pacing the packed dirt yard of the little settlement, restless with worry. Nestled in the forested hills between the mountains, the place was just a few tumbledown huts with thatched roofs and rough-hewn wood walls, cow sheds and a pig sty. The only defensive wall was less than waist high and enclosed an open court between two of the huts. Sheltered by a vine-covered trellis, it was the main kitchen and eating area, with a dome-shaped clay oven, a round standing hearth, and a plank table and benches. As a defensible structure, the whole thing was a little better than an open lean-to, but not by much.

The air had been turning colder throughout the long afternoon; now as night approached it was cool enough to raise gooseflesh on Iolaus' bare arms.

Ilene came out of one of the huts, a basket on her hip, and he glanced back as she crossed the yard to join him. Her presence reminded him that he needed a bath; grime from the past few days of tracking through the woods was etched into his skin. Since Hercules had gone off to scout, Iolaus hadn't felt comfortable relaxing his vigilance even long enough to dump a bucket of water over his head. "How's Callicrates?" he asked her.

She was an older woman, her dark hair salted with gray and her face lined from years of hard work. She needed a bath too, so Iolaus didn't feel quite so gauche. Between caring for the wounded Callicrates, trying to keep everyone fed, helping Gedius and the other take care of the animals, and fletching arrows, Ilene hadn't had a chance to wash or change her faded blue dress, which still bore stains from the rabbit stew she had hastily made last night. "He's alive, which is better off than he'd be if you and Hercules hadn't shown up when you did," she told him.

She meant well, but her words reminded Iolaus of the other farm, the one where they hadn't arrived in time. He shook his head, looking away toward the cold shadows of the forest, and just said, "Well, we were lucky too."

She didn't ask him why, sensing his mood. "It's so quiet," Ilene continued, her troubled gaze on the green shadows under the trees. She shook her head ruefully. "If we didn't have three goats dead and Callicrates lying there covered in bandages I'd think I'd dreamed it."

Iolaus nodded grimly. More like a nightmare. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and automatically stepping in front of Ilene, his sword ready. She skipped backward to be out of range of his sword's backstroke and lifted the basket, ready to throw it.

Iolaus gestured for her to run back to the house, his eyes on the forest. Then he stopped, cocking his head. The faint movement he could see in the tall brush had the look of a disturbance caused by something human. Or at least half-human.

"Hercules," he said in relief.

***

The night was damp and cool, the moon a round pale face in a cloud-strewn sky.

Iolaus sat on his heels with his back against a tree trunk, chewing on the last piece of hard bread. His scabbarded sword lay to one side, the long hunting bow and the quiver of arrows to the other. They had taken up a position in the meadow under a big beech, about a hundred paces from the house.

Hercules sat a short distance away, a shadow shape in the moonlight. He looked broody, though admittedly it was hard to tell in the dark. "How do you think Thea's doing?" Iolaus asked, mainly to get him to talk.

Hercules glanced up at the roof of the largest hut. Iolaus could just make out the outline of the girl perched on the ridge of the roof, etched against the lighter darkness of the sky. She had a quiver strapped across her back and a small bow propped on her knees. Hopefully she was still wide-awake and watchful, despite last night's attack and getting scant rest today. As the youngest woman she was still the best choice for a lookout, since the only other man in the household was Gedius, who was lame and couldn't climb the roof. And Thea was a better shot with the bow, anyway. "She'll be all right," Hercules said. He sounded as equable as usual, but Iolaus could read the tension in his body. "You should try to get some sleep."

Iolaus snorted wryly. He wasn't exactly relaxed, himself. "Yeah, that's likely." Hercules, the moonlight making his hair silver, turned his head and Iolaus knew they were sharing the same thought. "We'll get this thing," Iolaus said quietly. "We always do."

Hercules made a noise in his throat, somewhere in the range between noncommittal and skeptical. Iolaus didn't say it aloud, but he was reminded of something Cheiron had told them once, about the trouble with doing great deeds was that your mistakes tended to be equally great. Of course, they had both been too young and stupid at the time to understand what he meant. We didn't make a mistake, Iolaus thought. We just didn't get there fast enough.

That was about the only thing they knew about this creature that was killing people in these mountain valleys: it was very fast. The villagers in the lower valley had been carried off by something that attacked only at night, that left mutilated bodies deep in the woods for searchers to find but no tracks. No one they had spoken to had been able to get a close look at the thing. In this valley, Callicrates had been attacked at dusk while tending the goat herd, and was still too injured to talk. Following the creature's trail of destruction, Hercules and Iolaus had arrived in time to hear something charging off through the dark forest, but they hadn't caught even a glimpse of it.

Callicrates had been lucky. The inhabitants of the ruined farmstead in the next valley hadn't.

Hercules and Iolaus had arrived there to find the place a ruin, all the inhabitants dead. They had evidently tried hard to defend themselves; the smashed remains of a hastily erected stockade had been evidence of that. Some of the bodies had been hastily buried, and the largest house looked as if a few defenders had managed to hold out there for at least a day or so. That implied that the creature liked to take its time with its attacks, picking off victims a few at a time.

The thing that worried Iolaus the most was that it also looked as if trying to fight a defensive battle was useless. Of course, the creature's last victims hadn't had a demigod to help them drive it off, but Iolaus still thought attack was a better option. They just didn't know what or where to attack; Hercules had found nothing on his search today.

He considered that for a moment, tapping his fingers on his knee. "I've got an idea. Look, we think it might take people back to a nest, right?"

"Right." Still facing the open meadow, Hercules slanted a look back at him. "I'm not going to like this idea."

Iolaus sat up straight, enthusiasm growing. "So I let it catch me, and--"

Hercules continued earnestly, "And then it eats you alive, and--"

"No! Then I leave a trail and you--" Iolaus stopped with a frustrated snort. "You're not going to go for this, are you?"

"Oddly enough, no." Hercules finally betrayed some exasperation, turning to face him. "You know, if you're going to kill yourself, you could at least pick a method where it won't be so hard to recover your body."

"Okay, fine." Iolaus collapsed back against the tree in annoyance, mostly because Hercules was right. "Okay, it's a bad plan. I just want to do something besides wait. I feel like...a goat tied to a tree."

"Well, you smell like a goat, so-" Hercules caught the foot aimed at his ribs, snorting at his own joke. Then he went still, sitting bolt upright. "Thea saw something."

Iolaus snatched his leg back, grabbed his sword and leapt to his feet. He could see the dark shape of Thea on top of the roof, just clambering down the thatch.

Hercules stood, pivoting slowly, scanning the fields and the dark treeline, but there was no movement anywhere. "Find out what she saw," he told Iolaus, catching up the bow and quiver and moving out into the meadow. Iolaus slung his swordbelt over his shoulder and ran toward the house, his boots soundless on the wet grass. He could hear nothing but the wind in the pines and his own breathing.

Iolaus reached the house when Thea was halfway down the roof ladder and he steadied it for her. "Thea, what is it?"

She paused to point urgently across the meadow toward the forest-covered hill, whispering, "I saw something move in the trees. I just saw it the once, and I don't know if I'm imagining it, but you said anything--"

Iolaus felt fairly certain she hadn't imagined it. He lifted her the rest of the way down and urged her toward the house. "No, you did right, now get inside."

Ilene must have heard them; she opened the door from inside, motioning urgently for Thea. Iolaus shut the door after her and crossed the field to Hercules' side. The moonlight was brighter in the open, reflecting off the wet grass. A couple of long sarissae lay nearby, relics from Gedius' stint in the hoplites. He had sharpened the blades for them earlier today, just in case the bow didn't stop the creature and they had to take it at close quarters. "That way," Iolaus reported softly, jerking his chin toward the south.

"Hmm. I still can't see-- Wait, there it is." Hercules braced the bow against the ground and held it steady with his foot, bending it down to string it.

Iolaus saw it a heartbeat later. On the slope above the meadow branches thrashed, barely visible in the dark. Something was moving through the forest, something large, about half again as tall as Hercules. Iolaus still couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary but the night had taken on a weird hushed quality he didn't like. It felt like the forest was holding its collective breath, avoiding the attention of the creature passing through the trees. Iolaus drew his sword, saying, "It's not as big as I thought it would be." He had been imagining something more ghidra-sized.

"Isn't it?" Hercules sounded thoughtful, nocking an arrow. "I thought it would be about that size."

Eyes narrowing as the trail of disturbed brush neared the treeline, Iolaus scoffed absently, "Oh, sure you did."

It broke out of the forest before Hercules could make an indignant reply. Iolaus tensed, gauging the distance, trying to get a good look at the shadowy shape--

"Wait." Hercules lowered the bow, startled. "It's a man on horseback."

Iolaus frowned uncertainly, squinting into the dark. He could see the form looming closer, make out a little more detail. He caught the gleam of metal and realized the man was wearing armor. A helm and chestpiece maybe, and metal bracers and shin guards, barely discernible in the moonlight. "Then why can't we hear hoofbeats?"

Eyes narrowed, Hercules studied the dark figure intently. There was something wrong about it, something he didn't like. "Good question." Grimly, he lifted the bow again. Raising his voice to a shout, he hailed the approaching figure, "Stop there! Who are you?"

The approaching figure continued toward them and Iolaus still couldn't hear hoofbeats, just the soft pad of something striking the grass. Hercules drew the bow, aiming toward the approaching man. "Stop now or I'll shoot!" he shouted again.

The wind changed and Iolaus caught the smell of decay on the breeze, heavy and sickly sweet. The moonlight reflected dully off the man's armor. An instinctive fear seemed to creep right up out of the cold ground and into Iolaus' bones, and he felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. "Shoot him, Herc," he said quietly.

Hercules studied the figure intently. Then he let the arrow fly.

It struck the man square in the chest, the force of the powerful bow driving the arrow through the metal chestpiece. The man jerked with an impact that should have knocked him off the horse or whatever it was, but kept coming.

"A god?" Iolaus asked, the cold chill settling into his stomach.

"No...I don't have a clue what this is." His face set, Hercules nocked another arrow.

"I hate it when you say that." Iolaus drew his sword and tossed the scabbard aside.

The man drew a gladius as Hercules fired again. And again, the arrow rocked him but didn't knock him off the horse.

Hercules dropped the bow and snatched up the nearest sarissa. Then the horseman was on them and the demigod dodged one way, Iolaus the other. Hercules used the long spear like a club, swinging it up to unseat the horseman. A mortal would have been flung to the ground, but this man took the blow, swayed and was past them, leaving Hercules staggering with the force of his own momentum.

Iolaus swore, exchanging a brief incredulous look with Hercules. The horseman reined in, turning to come at them again, and Hercules hefted the sarissa, making it look as if he meant to cast the spear. Knowing it was a ruse, Iolaus backed away to give him room, ready to dart in with the sword. If the arrows wouldn't slow this man down, a spear throw wouldn't either; Hercules would plant the weapon at the last second and use it to lever the man off his mount.

Unfortunately, the man must have realized that as well. The beast made an abrupt turn and bore down on Iolaus. He had a heartbeat to decide whether to dive out of the way or try to cut the man off the horse. He went for the cut, stepping sideways and swinging his sword up for a two-handed blow. He saw the gladius chop down and felt it meet his blade with all the power of the supernatural creature holding it and the beast bearing down on him. Metal rang, jarring his arm to the bone and sending his blade flying. The force of the charge should have carried the creature well past him, but the rider reined in with superhuman strength and as Iolaus spun away a hand seized him by the hair and the back of his vest.

His feet left the ground and with stunning force he slammed head-first into the hot sweating side of the animal. Leather and metal scraped his chest as the man dragged him up over the saddlebow. The air was knocked right out of his lungs and everything went dark.

Hanging head down, Iolaus came to only a few moments later, saw branches fly by and knew they had just entered the forest; under the trees it was dark as the inside of barrel. Iolaus' first dazed thought was Oh, great. Hercules is going to kill me. He hadn't thought the creature would try to grab an armed warrior; the villagers who had been carried off had all been unarmed. And after their discussion over Iolaus' half-assed plan, the demigod might think he had done this intentionally.

He gasped a breath and the sickly odor of death filled his nose and mouth. The horseman had one hand still knotted painfully in his hair, the other holding the reins. Iolaus reached up under his vest, managed to grip the hilt of the knife tucked through his belt and pull it free.

He could feel the man's leg was armored in metal and leather. Iolaus knew he had one shot and instinct told him to lift the knife and drive it into the ribcage of the sweating beast instead of the rider.

It screamed like a harpy and jolted sideways. The horseman let go of Iolaus to grab the reins with both hands. Iolaus shoved himself up and catapulted himself free, hitting the ground and shoulder-rolling to his feet. He staggered and caught his balance, braced to move; it was so dark he could barely see the damn thing. He heard the beast plunge and scream, heard branches break as it moved further away.

Iolaus tried to pace it but the damn thing was so fast he lost it within moments. It'll go back, he thought, turning back toward the farmstead, finding the right direction by instinct. It hadn't gotten anybody yet and it was going to be madder than Tartarus that it had lost him.

Running as fast as he could in the dark, he re-traced their path, ducking half-seen branches and dodging trees. After only a few moments he heard something big moving through the forest toward him. Something big on two legs. Iolaus slid to a halt and called cautiously, "Herc?"

"Iolaus?" Dead leaves crunched underfoot as Hercules burst out of the brush. He still had the sarissa but he had snapped the long weapon in half to boar spear length, to better use it in the forest. He dropped it, grabbing Iolaus by the shoulders. Obviously torn between rage and relief, he sputtered, "You-- I--"

"Hey, that was not on purpose! He got me fair and square-- Wait, listen."

They both froze and faintly, in the distance, Iolaus heard branches crashing in a rhythmic beat -- the beast heading back towards the farmstead. Hercules swore, letting Iolaus go. He picked up the sarissa and turned back. "Come on!"

Iolaus plunged after him and they ran, barreling through the trees. They burst out of the brush and into the moonlight of the open meadow.

The rider emerged from the trees down toward the end of the meadow, reining in when he saw them.

"Now what?" Iolaus asked, breathing hard.

"We need to get him off that damn thing, whatever it is," Hercules muttered, studying the creature silhouetted in the pale light.

"I stabbed it. It can feel pain." Iolaus scanned the field, looking for his dropped sword, and spotted the moonlit gleam of the blade where it lay in the grass about thirty paces away.

"That helps." Hercules started forward, lifting the shortened sarissa. "Stay with me this time."

"Oh, no kidding?" Iolaus snapped. "I thought I'd lay down in the middle of the field with a sign that said 'get it here.'" He wasn't incredibly pleased with himself for his mistake either.

Hercules spared a moment to throw him his best pissed-off demigod glare, then turned the glare on the waiting rider. "We need to get him to charge us."

"Right."

With a yell, Hercules plunged forward, Iolaus right with him. The man took the bait, spurring his mount forward. Hercules lifted the broken spear as if he meant to try another useless throw. Then at the last moment Iolaus slid to a halt, waving and shouting to distract the rider and Hercules swerved in front of the beast, almost under its hooves, planting the spearbutt in the ground. The man tried to rein in but too late; the beast slammed right into the point, shrieking in pain. It reared back, dumping its rider, and fell with a thump.

The rider rolled to his feet, gladius ready, not giving Hercules any chance to jump him. Iolaus took advantage of the distraction to run back a few paces and snatch up his sword.

He came back to Hercules's side, watching the armored man warily. Hercules was breathing hard, still holding the much reduced stump of the spear, his hands covered with the animal's blood. He said, "That's one Tartarus of a horse."

Iolaus threw a glance at where the creature lay unmoving in the grass. He could see now that its legs didn't end in hooves, but in big shapeless pads, and the pale moon glinted off a set of gleaming fangs in a distended snout. "Damn," he commented.

The man was watching them, though the helmet shielded his face and Iolaus couldn't see much detail.

"You're not mortal," the man said suddenly to Hercules. The voice was rough and raspy, and he was speaking Latin.

"Neither are you," Hercules told him, watching him warily. That would explain the Roman style armor, Iolaus thought, startled. It didn't explain much else. Coming to the same conclusion, Hercules added, "And you're a long way from home."

The man's mouth moved in a rictus grin and the moonlight glinted off fangs. "Is that yours?"

Iolaus lifted a brow. The man might be talking about him, or the farm and all the mortals on it in general. Considering the fight they had had once over Hercules telling the Sumerian Death God that it had something that belonged to him, Iolaus was kind of curious as to how his partner would answer.

"I think that's a trick question," Hercules said easily. But Iolaus felt the shift in Hercules' mood; he could practically see the hackles rise from here. His voice hardened. "What are you?"

The man made a grating noise that might have been a laugh. "I'll leave you a few alive, but not the women, and not that one."

Iolaus rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Oh, thanks."

"Yeah, this is pointless," Hercules said, disgusted. "It's almost as pointless as talking to a normal Roman. Any ideas?"

Iolaus shook his head. He didn't have a clue what this man or thing was. Then the breeze brought him the scent of corruption, the sickly sweet odor of decay. He had smelled it at close range when the man had grabbed him and thought it was old blood in the horse's coat. This was too strong for that. He said quietly, "Herc, I think he's dead."

Hercules considered it. "An animate corpse?"

"Yeah."

"That would explain a lot. If he's under a curse-"

The Roman leapt forward with a snarl, lifting the gladius.

Hercules stepped sideways, knocking the short blade aside with the stump of the sarissae. Iolaus saw his opening and lunged forward, his wordless shout warning Hercules. As his partner dove for the ground and shoulder-rolled out of the way, Iolaus spun into the swordstroke, putting all his weight behind it. He felt the resistance as the blade connected with flesh and bone and drove through it.

He heard Hercules yell in triumph and stepped back as the Roman collapsed, his severed head rolling away.

The others must have been watching from the house, because Iolaus could hear relieved cheering from that direction. He circled the corpse, trying to see just what this thing was. It still looked mostly human, except there wasn't any blood and the gaping wound didn't seem to be steaming in the cool air, though it was hard to tell in the dark. Hercules moved to his side, nodding in approval. He clapped Iolaus on the shoulder. "Good. Now we can-"

The corpse sat up.

They both flinched back, staring. It shoved itself upright and Iolaus gestured incredulously. "Oh, come on! That's just not fair!"

"Oh, that's great." Hercules took the sword out of his hand, pushing him toward the house. "Rope, get some rope!"

Iolaus bolted for the house, for the shed attached to the far side. He tore through it in the dark, scattering tools, and came up with a coil of rope and a pitchfork with a broken tine.

He ran back to find Hercules dancing around the creature, darting in with the sword as it made a wild flailing grab for him. "It's trying to get to its head," he explained as Iolaus approached.

Iolaus grimaced. "Lovely." He dropped the pitchfork to make a noose in the rope, then ducked in close enough to throw it over the headless body.

There was a sturdy rack near the house, using for drying deer and cow skins, and by dragging, prodding, and finally tripping the corpse with the pitchfork handle, they got the rope over the rack and hauled the fiercely struggling thing up off the ground. Hercules tied it off, then backed out of range of the kicking, sitting down heavily in the dirt.

Iolaus plopped down beside him. They were both breathing hard, covered with sweat and dirt, and Iolaus' arm and shoulder ached from being pulled across the beast's boney shoulder. "Now what?"

Hercules shook his head slowly. "We have to figure out what's doing this. What's...animating this thing."

"Maybe when the sun rises it'll burst into flame or something."

"We don't have that kind of luck." Hercules sounded resigned. He considered the situation for a moment. "It really didn't like it when I said it was cursed, did it?"

"No, it didn't." Iolaus peered up at the struggling body, outlined by the pale moonlight. It was hard to tell, but the figures on the breastplate seemed to be moving. That had to be his imagination. He pushed to his feet, squinting to see. No, it wasn't his imagination. "Herc, that armor plate has a face, and it's looking at me."

"Hmm?" Hercules frowned up at the figure, then got to his feet. "That's...really strange." He stepped to the side, trying to get a better angle.

Iolaus heard doors open in the house, and glanced back to see a flare of torchlight. After a moment, Gedius limped up to them, Ilene, Thea, and some of the other women trailing after him, carrying torches. "Callicrates is awake, I think he's going to be all right." Gedius peered past them. "So... It's caught, then?"

"Yeah." Iolaus nodded grimly. "We haven't figured out how to kill it, yet. But apparently it's already dead."

Hercules took the torch out of Gedius' hand and used it to get a closer look at the flailing body and the figure moving on the breastplate. "It's got to have something to do with this thing." He stepped in for a closer look, jerking his head back as a kicking boot nearly clipped him. "I think that's a Bacchus figure. He's created some Bacchae in Rome, too."

"Huh." Iolaus stepped in for a look, careful of the feet. It made his skin creep, knowing how close he had been to the thing when the man had pulled him up onto the horse. The face had little fangs, and it was gnashing them. "It does look like a Bacchae."

"What?" Gedius craned his neck, staring. "Ilene, do you recognize that?"

She peered at the flailing body, frowning. "That face on the breastplate... Yes, that's that armor they buried with Daulis, down in the village!"

Hercules and Iolaus exchanged a sour look. Hercules rubbed his eyes tiredly. Obviously mustering his patience, he asked, "Roman armor? Daulis was a mercenary, brought it back from a war?"

"Yes." Ilene contemplated the writhing image thoughtfully. "I take it they shouldn't have put it on him for the burial."

"Probably not," Iolaus agreed with a sigh. "Hold it, let me find the head."

Two of the other women brought their torches over to light the area and Iolaus quickly found the head in the high grass. The face under the helm was still grimacing, eyes rolling, baring its fangs. "Oh, brother," Iolaus muttered, lifting it by the crest of the helm and carrying it back.

"Yes, that's Daulis," Ilene confirmed, but protested, "But I don't understand why he'd do this, even dead. He never did anything like this while he was alive."

"It's not Daulis, it's just his body," Hercules told her, his expression set with distaste as he looked up at the grimacing face on the breastplate. "The armor is cursed, probably by Bacchus, and the curse is animating the corpse. He was probably lucky he never put it on while he was alive."

Gedius nodded. "Well, in their defense, that thing wasn't moving around like that when they put it on him for the burial. It looked just like normal armor."

"Right." Hercules didn't look as if he wanted to discuss the point at the moment. "Let's get that thing off him."

***

Standing in the quiet hay barn, Iolaus put the last shovel away and stretched with a groan. It was morning and they had been up all night, but he was still too keyed up to sleep.

They had got the armor off poor Daulis' corpse with difficulty, as the cursed undead Bacchae inside had naturally resisted that process. The body had gone limp once that had been accomplished, but they had decided to give Daulis a pyre for his second funeral, just in case, and re-inter the ashes in his first grave down in the village. They had burnt the bacchae-cursed horse as well. Iolaus had been highly irritated that everyone seemed to want to defer to his opinion on what it was best to do with Daulis' body, as if he was the local expert on funerary arrangements and which ones were best for demon-inhabited corpses. Just because they were right and he was the local expert didn't make it any easier to deal with. Hercules had avoided the issue by groaning quietly to himself and walking away.

After Daulis' remains had been dealt with, they had fired up Callicrates' forge and spent the rest of the night getting it hot enough to melt down the armor pieces. Today Hercules was going to take the remaining lumps of metal to Artemis' temple, just to be on the safe side.

Iolaus glanced up as Hercules walked in, pushing the barn door shut behind him and leaving them in hay and manure-scented dimness. "What?" Iolaus asked, frowning.

"We need to talk," Hercules said firmly.

"What do you mean?" He still felt like an idiot for being dragged off by the undead Bacchae, he didn't need it rubbed in any further. "If this is about what happened earlier-"

Hercules grabbed his shoulders and backed him up against the plank wall. "Hey, hey! I told you, I did not let it catch me on purpose-" That was as far as he got before Hercules stopped him, kissing him hard enough to knock his head back against the post.

"I know that," Hercules said when he came up for air, and threw Iolaus down on the hay.

Iolaus would have objected if Hercules hadn't dropped down on top of him, threading fingers through his hair to capture his mouth again.

Iolaus forgot about arguing, and spread his legs to let Hercules settle between them. He did try to say he was sorry for the stupid mistake of letting the creature catch him, but Hercules just shook his head mutely, trying to open belts and untie laces one-handed.

He shifted down to nuzzle the faint scar on Iolaus' chest, which made Iolaus wriggle and try to shove him off. Iolaus still had lingering issues, and he knew it; he had been as dead as poor Daulis and at times it was all he could do to ignore it and go on. And it was hard to ignore it with Hercules licking the physical reminder that Dahak had cut his heart out. Hercules refused to be shoved, but he moved on to more interesting territory.

He knew Hercules had his own issues, but the fact remained that their lives were dangerous and that was just the way things were, and neither of them would have it differently. There was no point in talking about it, and soon Iolaus couldn't have brought it up if he wanted to; he was too occupied with trying to arch his back and digging his fingers into the rock-hard muscle of Hercules' shoulders.

Itchy hay and belt buckles poking him had long ceased to have any meaning when Hercules pulled the dirty trick of not finishing. Hercules pushed himself back up, bracing himself on one elbow and reaching down to cup one buttock and press their bodies together groin to groin. Iolaus expressed mixed feelings by growling and biting him in the shoulder, though he mostly got a mouthful of shirt. Then Hercules was moving against him, with him, and Iolaus pushed back, hooking his leg around Hercules' waist to give himself leverage.

Afterward, warm from the heavy demigod body still half atop him, Iolaus gradually became aware again of poky hay, the stickiness drying on his stomach, the urge to sneeze, and the fact that Hercules' belt buckle had probably left a permanent hickey on his thigh. He still didn't want to move. Hercules was absently nuzzling his ear, counting the rings with his tongue, and waiting for him to wake up enough for another go. That was the good thing about demigods, and in Iolaus' estimation it tended to balance out the occasional tendency to be sarcastic know-it-alls.

Then the barn door creaked and Ilene's voice called, "Hey, if you're done, I've got some chicken roasting and Thea's making bread."

Hercules groaned in his ear, a mix of mortification and unwilling amusement. Iolaus managed to call out, "All right, thanks," and wait to hear the door shut before he started laughing.

Hercules sat up, grinning, and dumped a handful of hay on him.

end

Author's note: this story steals a bit from the headless horsemen in the recent version of Sleepy Hollow, but after watching the movie, I always wanted to write a version of how Hercules and Iolaus would handle the nearly indestructible horseman. This story also uses the origins of Bacchus (as a half-Roman offspring of Zeus and Juno) from When Hellmouths Collide, which explains why there's both a Bacchus and a Dionysus in the Hercverse.

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