"Gods, Herc how dumb can you be!" Iolaus shouted, leaping to his feet and brushing himself off frantically. Here he had been enjoying a peaceful drowse in the late summer sun, when his younger friend shouted 'Surprise!" and dumped an armload of brightly colored leaves right on his bare chest.

Hercules cringed, taken aback by his friend's reaction. "Did I do something wrong, Iolie?" he asked timidly.

"Did you-?" Damnit, Herc, don't you know what these are?" Iolaus snapped, so beside himself with rage that he snatched up a branch and shook it under Hercules' nose angrily.

"Pretty leaves?" Hercules offered hopefully, "You like pretty flowers, Iolie. I thought you'd like these, too."

"These aren't flowers, Herc, they're itchy weeds! Now we're both gonna break out in hives!" Iolaus informed him, unconsciously slapping his forehead and regretting it instantly. Realizing he was still clutching the branch, he dropped it hastily and wiped his hand off on the leg of his pants.

"Oh," Hercules whispered, big blue eyes growing even bigger.

" 'Oh', he says! Herc, haven't you ever gotten hives after touching itchy weed?" the bright blonde boy demanded, calming down some in the face of his friend's obvious confusion.

"No," Hercules replied softly, "I'm sorry, Iolie. I didn't know that was itchy weed."

Iolaus sighed, and chalked it up to typical five-year-old stupidity. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Herc was two years younger, and therefore much dumber.

"Great," he sighed, "You're probably immune or something." In the three months of their friendship, Iolaus had discovered that Hercules was 'immune' to almost everything, which was a little disgusting, really. The kid never caught so much as a cold.

Iolaus scooped up his tunic, shook some stray bits of itchy weed leaves out of his flaxen curls, and grabbed Hercules' hand firmly. "C'mon, Herc," he said glumly, leading the way, "There's no help for it now."

"For what?" Hercules asked in a frightened tone, stumbling after Iolaus. Iolaus could run so fast!

"We're gonna hafta take a bath!" Iolaus announced grimly.

"There you go, boys! There's nothing more I can do. It's in the hands of the gods now," Iolaus' mother announced cheerfully, patting Hercules while her son finished drying himself. She had to smother a smile at the look on Iolaus' face. Getting her seven-year-old into a bathtub was a trial at the best of time, so she couldn't help being amused at Iolaus storming home, shy little Hercules in tow, urgently announcing that they both needed a bath right now, since they had gotten into itchy weed. Even so, Iolaus had hesitated when confronted with a tub full of warm, soapy water. Hercules, on the other hand, had practically dived in, happily splashing away and proving Alcmene's claim that there was nothing her youngest liked better than getting wet. You would have thought the boy was Posidion's nephew or something, the way he took to water.

"That was fun!" Hercules grinned up at her through his damp locks, "I like taking a bath with Iolie!"

"That's nice, dear," Iolaus' mother replied, gathering up the damp towels and draping them over the sides of the tub to dry, "Now, put on those clean clothes your brother brought and I'll make you all some lunch."

Iolaus froze in the act of pulling his clean tunic over his head, " 'You all'?" he echoed, "Iphy isn't still here, is he?"

"Oh, yes, he is," his mother replied, standing and drying off her own hands. "He's playing jacks with your sisters out front."

"Oh hell! This just isn't my day!" Iolaus snarled, yanking the tunic down viciously.

"Iolaus!" his mother fussed, wraggling a warning finger at him.

"Naughty Iolaus!" Hercules giggled, hugging his friend, "Don't use bad words!"

Iolaus just growled wordlessly, and stomped out of the bathhouse.

"Iolaus can come out to play, but you can't leave the yard, okay?" his mother told Hercules early the next morning.

"Okay," Hercules agreed eagerly, smiling, but he frowned moments later as he took in his friend's new appearance. "Iolie?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Iolaus returned the look wearily. "Not one welt," he muttered in a disgusted tone. Louder, he asked, "Do you itch at all?"

Hercules silently shook his head, and watched as Iolaus unconsciously scratched his arm.

"Is that why your Momma's making you wear these?" he asked, indicating the mitten covering the older boy's hands.

"Yeah," Iolaus affirmed, scratching away through the mittens.

"What's that gloopy stuff?" Hercules asked, sniffing at the greasy paste smeared on Iolaus' arms. His nose wrinkled at the smell.

"Salve for the itching," Iolaus groaned, trying to reach between his shoulder blades and failing, "It isn't working too well, and it stinks, too!"

Hercules watched his friend's gyrations sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Iolie," he said, "I didn't mean to make you all itchy and stinky. Can I do anything to help?"

A crafty look came over the other boy's face and he smiled slowly. "Sure, Herc," he purred.

Moments later, as Hercules carefully scratched his back through his tunic, Iolaus decided Herc was the best buddy a guy could ever have.

Hours later, skipping through the woods on his way home, Hercules wished he could think of a way to make Iolaus feel better.

Then he saw something at the side of the path that made him exclaim with delight and he clapped his hands happily.

"Oh! How...nice!" Iolaus' mother exclaimed as Hercules thrust the armload of bright leaves at her.

"They're for Iolaus," he explained, "To cheer him up until he can play in the woods again! And I made sure none of them were itchy weeds this time!" he added proudly, "I gotta go eat dinner now. Could you tell Iolaus I'll be back tomorrow to play?"

"Yes, dear," she murmured in reply, examining the leaves closely. She had never seen any just like them before, and wondered where the boy had gotten them, but when she looked up to ask he was already gone. Shrugging, she went to put the offering in a vase.

"Do you know where Hercules got these?" His mother asked Iolaus a bit later as the family ate supper. Hercules' gift sat proudly in the center of the table.

"Don't know, and don't care, just so long as they're not itchy weed," Iolaus grouched, trying hard to stop himself from scratching his thigh.

"I think Hercules has discovered a new type of itchy weed," Iolaus' mother offered the next morning, watching Alcmene coat the boy in salve. Alcmene's was green, and stank even worse than her own, but it did seem to help better with the itching.

"Apparently," Alcmene replied, wiping her hands and wrapping Hercules' in bandages, to keep him from scratching his chest any more than he already had. Hercules twitched at her touch, badly wanting to scratch some more, but Momma had said he mustn't, so he was trying hard not to. But oh!, how he wanted to scratch!

They were in Iolaus' kitchen, with Iolaus himself sitting nearby, watching the treatment glumly, knowing he was next.

"Oh, well, at least neither of them is running a fever," Iolaus' mother sighed, grateful that she had thoroughly washed her hands the night before, immediately after handling the odd branches.

High on Olympus, a god was giggling his head off. Strife had discovered the existence of Zeus newest totally by accident, while trying to track down his Uncle Ares. Ares had had a fit, knowing full well if anything happened to Zeus' whelp, he was the one most likely to get blamed- not without reason.

Ares had made enough of an impression on Strife that the lesser god knew he had better not do anything to seriously hurt the little half-mortal twerp, or Unca Ares would damn sure hurt him; but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little non-life-threatening fun. When Hercules had turned out to be immune to poison ivy, it had been sheer genius to plant that poison sumac and poison oak where the brat was sure to find it.

"STRIFE!" Zeus thundered, "Explain yourself!"

Strife cringed.

"I still itch," Iolaus complained, scratching himself under the table.

"Me, too," Hercules admitted unhappily, tightening both hands firmly around his mug of honey-sweetened tea. Over by the fire, their mother's were exchanging recipes.

It was Alcmene who answered the knock on the cottage door, opening it to reveal a tall, distinguished-looking man who was muttering to himself.

"May I help you?" she asked.

I'm a traveler, tired from a long trip, been on the road for days. May I impose upon you for a cool drink?" he said wearily, sounding very much like somebody who was reciting something from memory.

"Of course! Come in and sit down. Wouldn't you like a nice bowl of boar stew?" Iolaus' mother offered, removing the pot from the fire. She was trying to cheer her son up by making all his favorite dishes. "There's honey-cake for dessert," she added.

"Gods!" the tall man muttered, eyeing the stew, "I mean, how kind!" he added with a strained smile. He sat down and solemnly regarded to two twitchy little boys across the table. "Problems?" he inquired gently.

"They've gotten themselves into some kind of poison weed," Alcmene explained, indicating the vase with one hand while placing a bowl of stew in front of him with the other.

"Ah, I see," the tall man replied, picking up the vase carefully. "I'm a healer, and I happen to be familiar with these. Luckily, they are very rare. I doubt there's another patch anywhere in Greece. There had better not be, if Strife knows what's good for him."

The mothers exchanged bewildered glances, and shrugged in unison. Hercules and Iolaus, meanwhile, were busily scratching their legs under the table.

"Stop that right now!" the tall man exclaimed, rapping the table with his knuckles and making the boys jump, "You will only open sores that way!"

"Oops, sorry," Iolaus muttered, looking only a little embarrassed at being 'caught out'.

The tall man sighed, rolled his eyes skyward, and pulled his pack into his lap. Rooting through it, he produced a large bottle and a clean rag.

"Some advice," he said, addressing the women, ""First, remove those leaves and burn them immediately, the bandages too, but don't stand downwind of the smoke. Second, wash that whatever off, and apply this to the welts." He uncorked the bottle, placed the rag over the lip, and tipped it to show them the pinkish liquid within. "This will help with the itching and dry out the sores. Apply as much as needed as often as you need to. I'll leave you an extra bottle. Third, wash those clothes they're wearing immediately, or better yet, throw them out. Do they have any new clothes they haven't worn since they've broken out in welts?"

"No, I'm afraid Iolaus doesn't," his mother admitted softly.

"He can have some of Hercules clothes," Alcmene offered, "He grows so fast, he keeps out-growing his clothes before he can wear them out."

"Unnecessary," the tall man said briskly, rooting through the pack once more and producing two brand-new sets of clothes, which he handed to the mothers.

"We can't impose...I mean, you've obviously bought these for someone..." Alcmene stuttered, taken aback.

He looked faintly puzzled, then smiled. "For my nephew. Don't worry, he will be getting what's coming to him very soon, unless I'm badly mistaken."

"But how can we repay you?" Iolaus' mother asked.

"Don't worry about it, young lady. Let's just say I was sent by the gods, shall we?" Standing, he drained the mug of tea Alcmene had given him in one long gulp, gathered up his pack, and headed for the door-without touching his stew.

"But we don't even know your name!" Alcmene protested from the doorway as he walked down the path to the woods.

He turned, and smiled at her. "Aesclepius," he answered, "Remember that if you have any further...problems with young Hercules."

"How did you know-? Oh!" Alcmene's eyes widened.

He nodded. "Until next time," he replied, and vanished before her eyes.

A week later, Iolaus and Hercules were back to playing happily in the woods, no longer itching and totally welt-free.

"Race you home for lunch!" Iolaus called, breaking into a run and ducking through some underbrush.

"Okay!" Hercules agreed breathlessly, trying to keep up with the faster boy. But he quickly lost sight of Iolaus when he ducked through another patch of bush. And that's when he found the most marvelous thing.

Ahead, Iolaus screeched to a halt when he heard Hercules cry out. "Herc?" he called anxiously.

"Right here!" Hercules exclaimed, bursting through the bushes, a big grin on his face and a bundle of black and white fur in his arms. "Look what I found, Iolie! A pretty kitty!"

Iolaus and the skunk just stared at each other in mutual disbelief.

the end?

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