Title: Lost

Author: Smenzer

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: None. Young Hercules

Archive: Yes, please. Let me know if you take it, OK?

Teaser: David and the boys find themselves in Ancient Greece

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to Studios USA or

Whoever owns the Rights to Young Hercules. The "Lost Boys" are not mine either. They belong to whoever owns the Rights.

*** This story starts where the movie, "The Lost Boys", ended. For this story, we will presume the antlers that David fell on killed him. Yes, I KNOW antlers can't kill a vampire! But I want all four of them together for this story, so lets just say it did, OK? ***

The house in Santa Carla was a bloody mess, for a great battle had just ended. Mortals against vampires. For the moment, it seems as if the mortals had won, although large portions of their home had been destroyed. A young man with blonde spiked hair lay on the floor, deer antlers sticking up through his chest. They were the straight type of antlers, like some African antelopes had. At the most, he could have been 22 years-old. His face was relaxed in death, the red-gold vampire eyes forever closed. His name had been David. He had been the leader of the vampires, of his Lost Boys.

In another room, a young man with long black hair was sprawled on the floor. Smoke rose from his burned body, as it rose from the burned stereo right behind him. One of the mortals, Sam, had shot him with an arrow. The arrow had speared the vampire right through his chest and had gotten jammed into the stereo. The vampire had screamed as live currents raced through his body, frying him alive. Sparks had hissed and popped from the electricity. After a few moments, the vampire had collapsed to the floor, dead. His name had been Dwayne.

Upstairs, in the blood-soaked bathroom, a skeleton rested in the tub. The tub had been filled with Holy Water and garlic. When Nanook the dog had pushed the vampire into the tub, the Holy Water had done it's job. It had melted him, so now only a skeleton remained. When this vampire had died, he had destroyed every plumbing fixture in the house. The toilet had exploded, pipes burst with bloody water spraying the walls, the sink had shot dark red liquid up from the drain like an obscene fountain. This vampire had been named Paul.

And far away, in a cave out by Hudson's Bluff, was the body of the first vampire killed: Marko. He had been staked by Edgar Frog while he had been sleeping upside-down. These modern day vampires didn't sleep in coffins. Instead, they gripped a metal bar with their toes and hung upside-down from the ceiling, their arms crossed over their chest. And they rode on motorcycles, speeding faster than any mortal dare, easily zipping through crowds without hitting anyone. They loved being immortal, being vampires.

And in a few short hours, everything had changed.

David blinked his eyes and glanced around in confusion. One minute he had been dying from deer horns stuck through his chest and now he was ... here. He glanced down at his chest, frantically feeling for the holes he knew should have been there, but it was like he had never been injured. Had his wounds healed? Had someone pulled the horns out so he could recover? But where was he?

"David." Someone called softly.

David spun around and saw his boys, all three of them. Paul, Dwayne and Marko. They looked like they always did. That is, he saw no injuries on their bodies. And he had known they had been killed. He had FELT their deaths, each one of them. The pain of their passing had ripped through him like a dagger to his unbeating heart. "Where are we?"

"I don't know, dude." Paul replied. His long brown hair was now firmly back on his head, as was the flesh, skin and clothes on his bones. "I only know I died in that tub. That darn dog pushed me. And there's a dude over there."

David followed Paul's pointing finger and spotted the silent man sitting behind a large desk. First now David was beginning to notice the surroundings. They were standing in a large cavern, not so much different from the one they called home back in Santa Carla. Yet somehow, he sensed that this place WAS different. Perhaps it was his vampire senses, but he thought they were far underground. Nor could he feel any breeze on his face.

Taking a moment, David studied the man. He had short brown hair and wore a golden crown on his head, which was a bit odd. David instinctually knew it was real gold. Besides the fancy crown, the man was common enough looking. Nor did he lift his eyes from the papers ... no, scrolls, he was reading. Yet David was sure the man knew they were there.

Lifting his steady gaze from the silent man, David examined the rest of the room. Behind the man, there was two doorways. One was red tinged and seemed to lead to a deep pit. The other was surrounded by a white-gold fog.

"I don't like this." David said to his boys quietly. He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared. Those two doorways reminded him of something, something he didn't want to think about right now. He hadn't believe those stories he had heard when he was younger, but then, he hadn't believed in vampires either. "Did he say anything?"

"Nothing." Marco replied. Marco was the shortest of the vampires, with curly brown hair. "He just sits there."

"Well, I'm going to go find out what's going on." David walked up to the man's large desk. He could sense his family was right behind him, as they always were. That's what he liked about them. They were always there to back him up. Even now they were flanking him, just a step behind. He knew they would *never* betray him, not like Star had done. Taking a breath, David rapped his knuckles on the desk. "Hey. Were are we?"

The man finally looked up from his scroll. "This is my Kingdom and you are here to be judged."

"Judged, huh? Well, I don't see any angels or stuff." David pointed out. The fear that had gripped him was now stronger. He remembered the stories from when he had been mortal, about being tossed into a fiery pit for all eternity. The idea didn't appeal to him at all.

"As Bacchae, you are all sentenced to Tartarus" the man told them. "All Bacchae go to Tartarus for the evil deeds you committed in your unlife, the lives you took."

The Lost Boys looked at each other, confused.

"Wait a minute, what the heck is a Bacchae?" David asked. "And who the heck are you? If you're an angel, where's your wings?"

"I am Hades, God of the Underworld." The man informed them as he rose to his full height. Now they could see he was wearing long brown robes decorated with red and gold designs. Hades pointed a finger at them, a red ruby sparkling on one finger. "And you are Bacchae. You have the fangs of a Bacchae, the eyes of Bacchae, the undead status of a Bacchae. It has always been so that Bacchae go to Tartarus."

"Bacchae must be another word for vampire." Marko said as he moved closer to his brothers.

"And this Tartarus place must be Hell." Finished Dwayne.

David knew they were in serious trouble now. In fact, this was the worst problem they had ever faced. He didn't know if he would be able to save them, but he had to try. If they truly ended up in Hell because he hadn't tried, he would feel terrible. "Look, can't we make some kind of deal here?"

"No. Bacchae go to Tartarus." Hades said as he moved towards the reddish doorway. He raised his hand and pointed it at David. To David's shock, he felt himself raise an inch above the smooth rock floor and move forward. He tried to move, but his body was caught in an invisible grip. It was like a giant fist had wrapped itself around his arms and legs.

"Hey! I can't move!" Marko shouted.

"Neither can I!" Dwayne cried.

"We got to help David!" Paul told them, but like the others, he couldn't move a single limb. They snarled and shook their heads, but it was in vain. Hades had each one of them in his Power, for he truly was the Master of the Underworld.

Within moments, David was directly in front of the portal to Tartarus. It was like a deep red elevator shaft. With his superior vampire hearing, David could hear the painful cries of tortured souls raising up from below. It pained him to know that soon he and his boys would be among them. The red wall shimmered, as if firelight danced on it. David had no doubt that it WAS fire and fire was deadly to vampires. But since they were already dead....

The iron like grip released him. David tuned to look at Hades.

"Be brave and step into Tartarus." Hades simply said, pointing at the red opening before them. "It's what you have earned."

David peered down the deep red shaft. For once, he didn't know what he should do. Part of him was truly frightened. He wanted to go screaming the other way. Yet there was no where to go. And he doubted if this Hades could be killed, even by a group of vampires. Yet he knew that once they went down there, that was IT. As long as they remained in this room, they had a slim chance. Before he could think of a reason to stall, a new voice broke into the discussion.

"Uncle, why don't you let me take them off your hands?" A deep low voice said. "I promise you, they will not bother you again."

David turned around to see who had spoken up on his and his boys' behalf. What he saw shocked him, what little blood he had draining from his face until he was as white as a bleached sheet.