AN: Here's my explanation. I've been wanting to do this forever. I love angst stories. I am horribly sadistic.

So for everyone who likes to watch Percy and friends die, this the place. 48 stories. 48 deaths/mental abusings. I'll try to mix up pairings :) Some situations will be from the book, others of my own design. SOOO without further ado, let the angst begin.

Disclaimer: I obviously own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I also have a summer home in Venezuela, with solar panels on the roof for maximum green-ness and a twenty acre luxury pool with a fifty foot waterslide. I've hit 90 mph on that baby. I also have three butlers, each named Damsel because all they seem to be able to do is complain. My best friend is John Lennon.

Sly

Run.

It's all he can think, do, say.

Run.

Annabeth is behind him. Or at least, she's supposed to be. He turns his head for a split second and- WHAM, his foot catches on a tree root and he's biting the dust. Just his luck. Thankfully he was right, and Annabeth is yanking him up in and in a split second they're tearing through the forest again, stray branches lashing their faces and ankles. The minotaur is hot on their trail. Somewhere in this forest, a hydra conceals itself. They had seen it earlier on in the battle, before Annabeth had lost her dagger. But it slipped out of sight, some kind of tactic maybe. But as far as Percy is concerned, out of sight, out of mind. His number one priority is getting Annabeth to safety.

They run for a little longer, but they're tiring. The minotaur is too, its chest heaving as it stomps after the two. Percy had been putting off fighting the thing before, knowing that if he stayed still for too long the hydra might pop out and take advantage of his distraction and hurt Annabeth. But now it seems a fight was the only option.

He turns to Annabeth and whispers, "Go climb a tree."

She gives him a confused glance.

"I'm going to fight the thing. Get up in a tree in case the hydra comes back. It can't get you up there."

"What? And leave you to fight by yourself?"

"You're just something else to protect right now."

She looks offended, but she takes a hard right and launches herself into a pine. It's quite impressive, actually.

Percy whips around and stares the bull/man in the eyes, drawing his pen from his pocket.

The minotaur charges.

"I'm too old for this," Percy sighs, thinking back to the first time he totally beat this thing. Seven years later, here he was, preparing to fight it again. At least he knows what he's doing.

Percy draws Riptide and charges.

He lands the first blow, a slash across the minotaur's six pack. The thing roars in outrage, swiping a huge hand at Percy. He ducks it, but barely, rolling forward and stabbing Anaklusmos into the monster's thigh. It bellows again, this time in pain, crouching over to cradle his wound.

Percy is about to sink the sword into the creature's back when Annabeth screeches his name—

Something has happened, but what?—

There's this feeling in the small of his back, like something sharp being pulled out—

He's falling—

"PERCY!"

There's the sound of sobbing. Real, hard core sobbing. He hasn't heard this kind of pain since Beckendorf's death. He doesn't want to open his eyes, not yet, because he thinks that maybe this was just part of his dream and if he sobers up a little it will go away. It doesn't.

"P-Percy, please, listen," the wailing voice says.

He has no idea who it is. But he knows the voice. And he knows the name. He's pretty sure it's his own.

"Percy, I love you, you can't die on me now."

His eyes stay shut. They're too heavy to lift.

There is the sound of something metallic and a whispered prayer and abruptly light is dancing on Percy's eyelids. He can't stand the curiosity, but his eyes won't obey his commands to open. Suddenly he's not the one calling the shots. Weird.

His chest tightens when he hears another voice, not the wailing one, but one full of power and age.

"Annabeth," it says.

"Poseidon! He's hurt and I don't know what to do I'm so sorry, but you've got to come help I can't let him—"

"Child, calm down." The wise voice is so familiar, after lots of strain, Percy opens his eyes to greet it.

Only one word comes to mind. "Dad," he breathes.

Annabeth—the sobbing one, looks down at him and smiles a tiny bit but it's still laced with worry and fear.

"Poseidon," she says to the Iris Message, "Please." It's a whisper, strife weaved into it. The IM disappears.

Percy rolls his head towards Annabeth, green eyes meeting grey. This wasn't right. Her eyes were never red with tears, her smile never replaced with sorrow. Something's gone wrong here. "What happened?"

She brushes a few bangs off his face and takes a deep breath. "How do you feel?"

He sighs. "Don't avoid…" he trails off randomly, trying to remember the words to string along here. Was it always this hard to breathe? His chest is heaving like he's just run a marathon. Why didn't he notice until now?

"You had beat the minotaur," she says, looking up to the sky to prevent tears from falling. "You—you were about to deliver the final blow and the hydra snuck up and got you. So I used Riptide to kill it."

He nods. Suddenly pain lances through his back, cutting through the fog in his head, the numbness in his body. He opens his mouth in a silent scream, his face contorted in agony. He gasps for air, but it's not entering his lungs, and if it is, it's leaking out.

Annabeth panics, this sudden onslaught of pain catching her off guard. "What's wrong? Is it your back?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing and not lose composure. Dear gods did this hurt. But… why?

"What happened?"

Annabeth gives him a worried look and places a hand on his forehead.

"Annabeth?"

Suddenly, there's this rushing sound. Annabeth must hear it too, because she's looking around anxiously.

"Annabeth what's going on?" His voice cracks pathetically, thin and quiet.

Her face lights up. "You came, I thought you wouldn't but—"

"Move aside, young one," a gravely voice mumbles. A warm, tan face swims into Percy's vision and Percy feels his face warm.

"Hey, Dad," he whispers.

Poseidon's face twists up into this look—is that… worry?—and he turns to another person. "Apollo, what can you do?"

There's a warm hand on Percy's arm, then his chest, right over his heart.

A really long silence.

Poseidon is hovering over him again and he looks at him with a sadness as deep as the sea. "My boy…" he whispers.

The pain is kind of ebbing away, not exactly gone, but not there either. That's kind of how he feels. One question is still daunting him, but it won't leave his lips. What happened?

A choked sob rings through the forest and Percy can identify exactly who it came from. Annabeth. How did she get here? Everything is blurry.

"You can't… do a-anything. That's why you both look l-like that."

"The Curse of the River Styx is very binding. All the vulnerability of a human is concentrated into that one spot. It's a miracle he's still alive."

Percy can tell this wasn't meant for his ears. All he can think about is how he just ruined things for everyone. What an inconvenience, him dying. This was his fault.

He was dying, wasn't he?

Everything is faint now. Little shadows of what they once were. Percy wants to express one more thought, one more feeling. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be, my son. I am so very proud of you."

"—Love you." He doesn't care who it's intended for, they can all have it.

Two voices respond. "I love you too."

Okay, not totally pleased with this, but there is a meteor shower tonight and I don't feel like going to sleep only to wake up then go back to sleep again. Sooooo yeah. Thanks for reading!