So, I'm back again.

I know it's been ages since the last entry, but I'm still not ready to write about anything after the cyclops. I've tried a couple of times, but every time I try to organize my thoughts on it - you know: what happened, what order, that kind of thing - I just can't make myself sit still long enough to write about it. I want to scream, I want to go challenge every monster and god out there, I'll even admit I want to cry, I guess. I really don't have the right to do any of that. Mostly I end up just throwing the book a few times, leaving and training on some practice dummies and

Right. Subject change or I'm not going to make it through this either: I made it to Camp Half-Blood. It's actually been two years... almost three.

Wow. So! That makes me feel kind of guilty, actually. It's been two years since I've written here. Well, I did warn you that I might not be able to keep up with it. I probably shouldn't even be writing now, but I think I've got to get this out or I am seriously going to explode. I really can't talk to anyone, so here's hoping there's enough pages left.

Okay. 42 pages. I'll write small.

The best place to start would probably be to talk a bit about Camp. As much as my previous entries had a lot of doubt about Grover, the satyr was right. Camp Half-Blood is a place of safety. Half-bloods can get in, monsters can't. Half-blood's can't get out without permission.. and if you are a normal half-blood with a home to go to, after the summer of training and camaraderie ends, you can opt to leave for a while. Pretty much everyone leaves for the rest of the year.

Annabeth, myself, and a new girl a satyr brought in a few months ago are not allowed to leave at all. We're called year-rounders. That means that due to how powerful we are, supposedly, we smell like a free buffet to every monster for miles and they will drop all of their nefarious deeds to make our lives a little more exciting. Given, well, my whole life before getting here, I can't exactly argue about that, but it does drive me crazy sometimes.

So for us, the only way to get out at all is to undertake quests for the gods. The way that works is that the gods will get into arguments, or I don't know, make bets. I've heard that sometimes they'll even get into trouble and ask for help, but I've never seen it. Anyway, when that happens, they call for a quest, and some demigod has to take it up and sort things out before all these really overpowered gods end up fighting each other and take out Cleveland and half of Ohio or something.

I know. "Luke," you might be saying, "Who cares? It's Cleveland." I know. I've been there. But we're still supposed to prevent that sort of thing.

This summer, just two weeks before it ended, Mr. D - That's Dionysus ... yeah, we've got a god here year round. It's great let me tell you. It's like the gods are trying to figure out ways to make me hate any of them more than my father. Anyways, Mr. D makes an announcement at dinner that my old deadbeat, Hermes, had called a quest.

"Apparently, Hermes hasn't gotten enough dealing with apples and wants another one." Mr. D rolled his eyes and took another drink of soda from his goblet. He'd messed up and played around with some off limits nymph so Zeus decided to punish us - and him - by drying him out at Camp. The god of wine is currently perpetually sober. He can't drink. He can't leave. He hates us. Life is grand.

Everyone is pretty used to him though. No one is really paying any of his grumbling any mind, and ... I'd be lying if my father's name didn't make me lift my head, even if it was with a scowl. I totally expected this to go to another cabin.

"Luck Catstealing." Mr. D called out.

Irritation was the only thing that saved me from being completely stupid with surprise.

"Luke. Castellan." I corrected him through grit teeth. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I punched a god. Probably turned into a lizard and thrown into an old cat lady's house. He's never gotten my name right even once in almost three years.

"Whatever. Stand up."

I stand up, and my table... my half-siblings, son and daughters of Hermes, and any number of other kids - unclaimed by their godly parents or in some cases, claimed but just not important enough to be one of the big 12 gods... well, they started cheering and whistling. One of the guys slapped me on the back, making me stagger a bit. We're pretty sure Mitch is one of Hephaestus' kids, so the friendly pat was a bit like getting hit by a speeding truck. Still, I couldn't help but smile a bit. Okay, so I was grinning like an idiot.

"You've been requested per-son-al-ly. Talk with Chiron after dinner." He takes another huge gulp of soda, snorts irritably and throws himself childishly back into his chair. He ends with his traditional blessing: "Don't screw it up."

For a moment, the whole dining area was silent and I looked around at all the different cabins. My own siblings were about to explode with pride. As far as anyone has known, the Hermes' cabin hadn't been tapped for a quest in the last couple decades. They all looked like we were about to pull of the greatest prank the world had ever seen.

I glanced out further around me. Faces looked back, filled with awe and envy, and in some cases, a little fear. Some of the Ares' kids glowered back with open aggression. Whatever. They got a lot of quests.

Finally, I glanced over at Athena's table, and met Annabeth's eyes. She was looking at me like I was a Hero. Capital H. And right then, I really felt like I was.

I also felt the fork full of mashed potatoes coming from the Apollo table as it was incoming towards my face. Naturally, I dodged like the pro I am. You might think I'd get mad, but I wasn't. We have a great rivalry with the cabin. Instead .. man, if I'd grinned any wider I think my face would break.

Casually, I picked up a honeyed yam, tossed it once in the air and lobbed it back at them without even picking a target. Michael dodged and it hit one of the girls at Aphrodite's table on the shoulder, splattering all over her new Alexander McQueen camisole and she shrieked with outrage and the war was on.

Food was everywhere, flying like all Hades had broken loose.

The Ares table made a catapult with a whole roast and one of the benches. Not to be outdone, I think Hephaestus' cabin had something with actual reload and sighting by the time all was said and done.

I was covered from head to toe, being the common 'enemy' of the evening, even I could only dodge so much. I probably laughed until tears were in the corners of my eyes and stitches in my side.

Every quest had it's own kind of send off and I'd seen a lot of them by then... Athena's were quiet and reverential, already talking about research and plans. Ares was like a soldier accepting a mission. There was exuberance, shouting, and stomping, but the acknowledgement that this may be the last they see of each other. Apollo tended to be bright smiles and really premature composition of the epic about to begin. This? This was stupid. It was inappropriate. It was everything it should be. Even when my cabin and the Apollo cabin were stuck in clean up, under threat of pain and harpies eating us alive, I felt pretty great.

*A/N So, first fic. I wanted to do something to bridge the gap between the very sympathetic, lighter voice of Luke we see in the Diary of Luke Castellan and the Luke we meet in the Lightning Thief. In that vein, I am trying to also keep with the tone of the series itself.

Here goes!