A/N: First story on here. Ever. I'm nervous and excited and… yeah. Constructive criticism please? Tell me what's wrong and help me. Thanks. :D Oh, yeah *rubs forehead twice* If you're a part of that, comment. :D I can't tell you what that means if you don't know.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: Percy Jackson made a choice that changed everything. It broke him, without him knowing, or really caring. Nico has to fix him. And his addictions, which morphs into one more dangerous than drugs. Percy/Nico Rated M for later

Addiction

Chapter 1: Mark of the Beast

"Who is like unto the beast? Who is able to make war with him?" Revelation 13:4

"And the power to give life unto the image of the beast, that the image of the beast should both speak, and cause that as many as would not worship the image of the beast should be killed." Revelation 13:15

It was a fine late September day in New York, the hands of fall not yet grasping the city, but sending light touches as the essence of summer ebbed away. It could have-and would have- been an unmentionable, forgettable day for a certain demigod. And the operative phrase here is could have.

Because people make choices.

Decisions.

And Perseus Jackson was going to make one that would alter his life.

Forever.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Percy woke up with red, blinking numbers staring him blankly in the face, as he stared back with probably the same expression, except a little more aggravated. 5:30. He crawled out of bed, turning off the blaring alarm clock. He stretched and yawned, blinking away the sleep from his eyes, probably sounding like a baby dinosaur. The one thing he hated about working as a teacher is the hours.

Well, he wasn't technically a teacher, he was the head swim coach at Goode, but if you mentioned that he would huff and indignantly tell you he taught a subject and was as good as one. He had went to college, got all the requirements, but the principal was first still reluctant to hire him. As a 24-year old, he didn't have that much experience. But then he saw how he worked with the kids, and how he swam, and it wasn't bad that Paul put in his good word with past teachers too. He just had to have him.

And that was probably the best choice he made. On his first year, he led the team not only to county, but to state as well. They had finished first, and they were aiming for the same this year. This whole week (the fourth in the school year), he had held try-outs. The team this year was, to say the least, monstrous. They would probably dominate this year. In fact, he was telling the names of the people on the team today on the announcements, and putting the list up on his door. At that mental reminder, he suddenly got energized to go on with his morning.

In the shower, he was thinking how great his and his friends' lives were going. He had a great job he loved, and it the money was great. Annabeth worked at the head architect firm in New York. Their relationship was going…well, but something just wasn't sitting right with it. He mentally shook the thought out of his head as he thought about Grover. Replacing the Wild god Pan was full time job, and he was enjoying every minute of it. He and Juniper were probably blessed by Aphrodite or something, because they would be welded together if Juniper weren't a tree. He didn't see much of Nico di Angelo, but he knew he went to a college in North Carolina, Duke or UNC or something. He knew if he actually went there and said 'Duke or UNC or something' though, he would get pummeled, Curse of Achilles forgotten.

As he got out of the shower, going to his closet-he willed himself to dry off, comes in handy- he thought he should visit Nico. He would figure out if he went UNC or Duke, and make fun of him with the rival team, maybe over an Iris message so he won't get tackled, or, you know, an army of skeleton soldiers won't rise up and kill him.

His life was great, his friend's and family's lives were great, and, as he got into his car, he thought, things couldn't go sour.

He didn't know how completely and utterly incorrect he was.

0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

As he walked to his car from the pizza place, assistant coach Draper came out. You see, he and the team had gone out to a favorite pizzeria of his to celebrate the team. All the students had left, and he was at his car door. Dylan Draper was 25, just like Percy, had chocolate brown hair and eyes to match. He and Percy were rather good friends. "Hey, Perce," Dylan said to flag Percy down before he stepped in his car. "What's up, Dill?" Percy said, as he paused from stepping in. "You wanna hang out at my house with some friends tonight?" Dylan asked a twinkle in his eye that reminded Percy of the Stoll brothers. Seeing that twinkle probably meant something mischievous was going on, but he shrugged it off. "Sure, why not," Percy said. He stopped himself before he said I was going to clean up my house anyway, because he didn't want to seem like Dylan was his last choice. Dylan grinned from ear to ear as he said, "Great, you can follow me."

When they got there, his friends were already inside; apparently one of them trusted enough to have a key." Tom had it once, but he came in here and totally trashed my house while I was asleep, so I had to give it to Aaron," Dylan explained, he, Tom, and Aaron grinning from ear to ear. There was Tom(a redhead with matching freckles), Aaron(sandy blond hair and dark brown eyes), Will(dark brown hair and green eyes), John(jet black hair like Percy's and blue eyes), and Marc(sandy blond and green). It was a pretty cool night, video games (to Percy's ADHD delight), alcohol (beer, liquor, tequila, etc.), and snacks. They were all just, well, chilling, and then Will announced with a mischievous grin, "Hey, I got some crank, wanna snort?" "Fuck bro, you've been holdin' back!" Aaron said, as everyone chattered in agreement, except for Percy. What the fuck was crank? "Hey, you didn't get that shit you got last time? Bad trip, man." Percy stared blankly at all of them, completely uncomprehending. "Nah, new, trusted dude. Expensive, but cool." As Will went to his car to get whatever crank was Percy attacked, as he hated not knowing. "What's crank?" he asked them blankly. All their eyes widened, and then an awkward silence. Marc replied first. "You really don't know what crank is?" he said as Will walked backed in." Glass. Crystal. Tweak. Tina. Snap crackle, pop." Percy shook his head slowly, cautiously, like he was talking to child. "No," he simply replied. After yet another pregnant pause, John said,"It's meth, dude. Meth. M-E-T-H. Meth." A wave a realization shot over his face. "Oh," was really all he had to say.

Another uncomfortable pause.

"Are you gonna take a hit?" Dylan said. Percy couldn't believe that. The assistant coach of the swim team was asking him to snort meth. Which, I don't know if you know, is illegal.

"What, no! Do you know what that shit does to your body?" Percy exclaimed.

Tom snorted, "Fuck that shit, this shit is amazing." Others murmured in agreement.

"Here, let all of us take a hit and you can decide whether you want to or not," Dylan said. Percy nodded, looking unbelievably at all of them. He can't really do this, right? That shit is terrible, and if any of his friends or family knew, he would never hear the end of it. He watched as they all went down the line, snorting through straws and looks of ecstasy on their faces. They looked as if euphoria was completely encasing them. Then, is finally come to him. "Dude, I'm so fucked up bruh," Tom laughed, on cloud nine. "Bruh, just fuckin' take the hit!" Marc exclaimed, in his own experience at the moment.

And then, Percy thought.

Perseus Jackson was not one to give into peer pressure, if he said no, he meant it. But, that's just the thing: he didn't know if he meant it. He knew what shit like that did to you, and he would do time for it if he got caught. But the looks on their faces, they were just so, pleasurable. He wanted to experience that. He wishes he could've experienced that when he had a whole bunch of shit in his life.

So, Perseus made a choice.

A desicision.

That would change his life.

Forever.

Just one hit, right? He thought, as he leaned down, took the straw, over the yellowish-whit substance, and readied it.

Just one, his brain answered back.

And he inhaled.

0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Now, we all have heard of the mark of the beast. 666. But, sometimes, it takes different forms. It's when the demons,-your demons- brand you. Now, the mark of the beast isn't just one brash action. It has reason behind it. The Seven Deadly Sins. What other people have done to us. What we do to ourselves. One brash decision is actually apart of the effect, not the cause. You don't have to be religious to take on the mark of the beast. It's hard to face the mark of the beast. It's harder to control it. It's nearly impossible to separate yourself from it. You can never take it off. Because when it has you, it's in the interior. It will always be with you, matter what.

Percy was addicted.

He knew that.

And he couldn't give a shit.

Because the mark had taken over.

A mark worst than any scar.

The Mark of the Beast.