Disclaimer: We do not own any of the WWE characters though it galls me to no end. I mean come on who wouldn't want to own Undertaker, Kane, and even Sara. Anyway they belong to the people who portray then and one Vincent Kennedy McMahon. I didn't write this story for profit.

Summary: The Calloway family goes on a much needed vacation. But whoever said that anything the Undertaker and Kane get to be normal on any level?

Co A/N: With special thanks to Dark Kaneanite who coauthored this fic Welcome to the story of what happens when the BOD try to go on vacations.

Sara smiled as she watched her big strong, take no shit from anyone husband and his equally rough around the edges brother be wrestled to the ground by a five year and three year old girls. She mused that no one would believe even if they saw with their' own eyes that the big red machine and the dead man were being taken down by not only females, but females not even a quarter of their' own size. And dare she describe it, frolicking amongst themselves like little children.

The blond haired woman sighed, thinking about just how much it took to get her obstinate husband to agree to this retreat. Mark was a tough man to convince of anything even by Texan standards. Her eyes became unfocused as she thought about the near month of pleading, hinting, and threatening. Yet in the end it was worth it because the deadman did finally cave. Glen wasn't nearly as hard to coerce, all Sara had to do was get Gracie to bat her big blue eyes at her uncle and the big red machine was a goner.

"What are you thinking about wife?" Sara started as massive tattooed arms wrapped around her shoulder and a solid form slid seemingly out of nowhere right behind her. She barely held back a shriek as she slapped said arm, her bronze bangles jingling with each movement. "Mark, don't do that." She hissed. "Sorry." The Phenom sounded decidedly unapologetic, and if she were able to turn around the buxom blond was sure there would be a smirk a mile wide on Mark's face. Though he would never admit it, this vacation was a good idea.

'But I could do without wearing the dresses.' He thought with nothing short of annoyance. Part of the 'experience' of the Ancient Retreat was requiring all guests to be dressed in classical Greek clothing. Which led to Sara stuffing both he and his brother into knee length gray and white tunics with laced up sandals their' first day at the resort. It didn't help his temperament any when he discovered his wife had switched all of their' clothes. Not even his beloved bandannas were spared. The only article was left to Kane, who wouldn't part with his mask and Sara wouldn't try and force the surprisingly childlike man.

But any and all arguments fled Mark when he saw his wife in a Chiton for the first time. The near gauzy dark brown dress complemented her golden skin and flaxen hair. The wide belt she wore low on her hips only seemed to draw even more attention to how fit she really was, even under concealing garb. The look suited her; he had decided then and there to not make a big deal out of wearing 'dresses' if he could help it. Now a few days later, garbed in a brown tunic and blue Chiton respectively, they watched Kane play with Chassie and Gracie. Suddenly Mark jerked, his acid green eyes roving, he could hear a voice cry out in the distance.

In the village of Helos, south of the militant state of Sparta, a family grieved for the loss of the two sons of the village elder Luicilla, daughter of Antonius. Like so many seasons ago, when crypteia claimed the life of her husband, so too did the Spartans barbaric tradition claim the lives of her two sons. Now she watched, stone faced as her cousins lit the funeral pyre, her only remaining child, a daughter, Antonia holding on to her with a death grip. And yet it wasn't only her sons that were lost in the night. Twelve other boys and young men were also murdered. And yet there were so few that gathered to bid their' farewells to the victims of Sparta.

This was normal for all of them. What point was there to grieve when the so called descendants of Hercules himself would just reign upon them again and take more? What use were their' tears when it would be perceived as weakness and thus grounds of execution by default? But Luicilla refused to turn away from her sons, even in death. She refused to forget their' names, faces, and memories. Even as it broke her heart she watched them burn, the dark haired woman cried out suddenly, "Be there any justice in this world? Nemesis, merciful goddess hear me, I have been most grievously wronged. Be there justice in this, our people less than dogs and slaughtered likes pigs?"

"My sons were innocent, gracious goddess, free of any wrong, and now they lay dead upon the pyre with their' fellows." Yet tears would not fall still as Luicilla screamed out her pleads to the heavens. Antonia gripped her hand but said nothing of her suddenly frail mother's outburst. The Spartan 'supervisors' weren't anywhere near to kill the raving woman and Luicilla need to express her grieve though the tears never fell. What no one knew was that Nemesis, the goddess Luicilla invoked, was listening.

As she sat polishing and honing her blade she felt her anger rise as the widow's pleas reached her ears. She snapped her head up and called for a messenger to fetch Bia and Astraea. She rarely busied herself in the lives of mortals, but when called upon she made her presence known swiftly and brutally. She wasn't kept waiting long, Bia was the first on to make an appearance and sat down at Nemesis's feet waiting for Astraea to make her entrance. Minutes later the Virgin Goddess of Justice arrived, her scales dangling from her hand.

"Well? Why have you called us Neme?" Astraea asked, knowing that Nemesis hated being called by the childish nickname."Sisters, there is widow down in Helos that has had not only her husband taken from her, but her two sons as well. The Spartans had taken crypteia to far. Every few months younger and more blood thirsty men, nay boys, rain down upon the unsuspecting city. These boys are cutting their teeth on the bloody tales of their fathers and grandfather, wanting nothing more than to add glory to their family names, while those taken down by crypteia aren't even allowed to mourn in public for fear of punishment and death."

"But Neme, that has been the way of the Spartan for longer than I can remember. I see no reason to change it now." Astraea said softly as she sat down across from Bia. "Astraea, can you honestly tell me that you see no wrong in what they are doing? There is no justice being served in the slaying of innocents." Bia said as she jumped to her feet."Bia, calm yourself. If we handle this your way all involved, including the innocents will be sent down to Hades to spend an eternity." Nemesis said as she watched the younger woman pace.

"Then how do you think we should handle this Nemesis?" Bia demanded."We send champions in our place." "What champions? There are none in Helos other than the elders and the young." Astraea pointed out."Then we find some. They must be strong willed and able to absorb large amounts of pain. They have to have the resolution to see things through no matter what." Nemesis started. "Preferably related, fathers, sons cousins if its necessary. Some sort of blood relation to strengthen the bond and push the others on should one fall."

"I think I have found the perfect ones." Bia said as she peered down into the mortal realm. "Two brothers, considered warriors of no comparison in their world. The minor goddess peered deeper into the mortal realm, watching with fascinated eyes as the two strange men battled, in what appeared to be a gladiators' ring, only this ring was square instead of round. She smiled down at their' images, taking stock of each before speaking. "One has a face that none have ever seen, while the other one commands power and respect from those around him. By ones side is a warrior woman, her spirit will serve them well in this venture."

"No face? How does that benefit us?" Astraea demanded, her patience wearing thin with her violence minded sisters. Nemesis all but rolled her eyes at her fellow goddess's momentary lack of common sense."With no face he could remove his vestige that he uses to hide his face and move among the crowds unnoticed." Still Astraea was skeptical and let her cohorts know. "We have to be sure of this sisters," she regarded them both grimly, "this is tampering with existence itself, and even gods are subject to the fates, so, of no comparison say you Bia?"

"Ay, and they are part of a warrior clan that fights for pleasure, and honor." The closest comparison Bia could draw upon to what the 'clan' was, gladiators or mercenaries but she hesitated in applying it. Neither of the brothers were slaves, and both of them, even the cold hearted one had too much honor to be a mercenary. Nemesis thought over what Bia had said, a smile sneaking onto her face, giving her a ruthless look. Warriors without comparison would serve her well and would avenge the widow. "Alright sisters let's get our warriors."

Kane had noticed the difference in his brother and watched him as Mark's gaze flitted around the area where they were. He had questions but before he could voice them a wind picked up, kicking the sand and dirt up around them until they were in the eye of a mini tornado. He had no thoughts other than to protect his nieces, whom were clinging to his legs and crying out for their mom and dad. He bent down and wrapped them in his trunk like arms, talking in low tones to calm them down. The dirt and dust were spinning faster and faster blotting out his line of vision and had he no mask Kane would have choked.

"Uncle Glen!" Chassie cried as she clung desperately to his leg. "Hold on angel." Then just as suddenly as it started it stopped. Kane continued to hold his nieces as he searched for Mark and Sara. If he hadn't of been preoccupied with finding his brother and his wife he would have noticed the change in scenery. "Mommy! Daddy!" Chassie called as she darted out of his arms and across the dusty street, Gracie toddling along behind her."Chassie, Gracie, get back here." Kane had to admit, the period garb he was wearing did allow him ease of movement, he just wasn't going to tell Sara that if he ever found her.

He caught up with the girls in little time and scooped them, a smile tugging at his covered lips as they giggled and struggled against his arms. Gracie reached up and tugged on his rich brown/ red curls, a small giggle escaping when he pressed his forehead against hers. Chassie was tracing the lines on his mask and watching him with eyes that knew too much for her age. She had already learned not to ask about it but it still intrigued her, after all her daddy was good looking. Well her mommy said so anyways, so why would her uncle want to run around in a Halloween mask all the time?

"See Sara, I told you. He wouldn't let them out of his sight." Kane turned and let out sigh of relief when he seen Mark and Sara behind him, identical smirks on their faces. It was in the chrisom demon's opinion that they were made for each other. Only someone who smirks as evilly as Mark could ever really be able to put up with him. His elder sibling raised an eyebrow at him, knowing what his little brother was thinking. Kane tilted his head, a glare almost as hostile when the Phenom saw him for the first time in twenty years alight in his mismatch gaze. 'Don't you dare try anything.' His eyes seemed to snarl.

He had been subject to Mark's meddling once too often, with dismal results. Deadman crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. It was about as much of a silent promise Kane would ever get out of his brother. The girls wiggled around until he let them down and he watched as they ran up to their parents. He joined them and watched as Sara looked them over as if she hadn't seen them in a week. Mark looked on, genuine smile on his face when the girl switched their attention to him and knocked him down, smothering him in kisses.

He backed off a bit and let his brother and wife checks and rechecks his nieces just to make sure they were alright. He looked around the dusty area, taking in the buildings and people. Something seemed odd to him, it looked like it did when the dust devil started, but something was off. Then it hit him, even though the buildings of the resort were styled after ancient Grecian temples and there was still a modern flair to them. The ones he was seeing now looked to be completely made of marble and stone, and what could be termed as housing was nothing more than shaped and dried mud.

There was nothing modern about it, and there were goats, and horses everywhere. Then, he became conscious of the people staring at them like zoo animals. So far they looked to be a little shorter than Sara and all had scared looks on their faces. Each and every one of them had dark hair and dark eyes, which the Calloway family sticks out even more than usual. Kane sidestepped back to his brother and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention."What?" He asked as he straightened up. "I don't think we're in Texas anymore."