(A/N) I'm so glad that this story is getting support, and I'm surprised that so many liked it, considering the many are unappreciative of AUs. Please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or HOO

Jason lay awake in his bed, and the thin, threadbare sheet that was draped over him offered absolutely no warmth whatsoever. He curled his toes as the cold nipped at his bare feet, and despite being all too familiar with the feeling, he tossed and turned, rubbing them together to try and warm them up. Thalia was in the bed opposite his, but she was facing the wall, her back to him. Her presence was comforting, the sound of her even breathing and the hypnotic rise and fall of her side were almost enough to put Jason to sleep. Almost. There was a problem, however, because even though Thalia was well into the dream world, tension hung thick in the air between them, a cold and ruthless wall erected to keep them apart, or, more importantly, keep Jason out. This wasn't a surprise to Jason, who took it in stride with a defeated acceptance to it; ever since his sister had learned about his job as an angel hunter, she'd turned cold.

Her eyes went wide as she saw Jason hauling the two large wings inside. He'd thought she was working overtime, but he soon realized that she'd sacrificed the pay to celebrate Jason's birthday. She had a newspaper-wrapped present and everything, even a beat-up cupcake from the local gas station mini-mart.

"What have you become?!" she shrilled.

"I'm doing this for us!" Jason bellowed in reply.

"No, you're doing it for you! You're a monster, a sick, twisted beast-"

Jason dragged himself out of his memories as tears began to well up behind his eyes, and he furiously wiped them away with his arm. Thalia refused to even look at him these days, much less talk to him. When conversation was absolutely necessary she kept her words cold and clipped. Businesslike. It was if they were business partners discussing sales rather than siblings, and her venom-laced tone was like a knife to Jason's chest, causing pain so severe that he would've preferred if she didn't talk to him at all. Her voice was full of disappointment and regret, like she was angry at herself for not questioning the great deal of money they were wracking in. Jason didn't have it in him to be bitter towards her. In fact, he was so resentful of himself that his self-hatred would've done just fine sending him on long guilt trips without Thalia's disapproval. That just made it all the more worse.

It was Saturday, and tomorrow was Jason's day off from both angel hunting and his two other jobs. That night was one of the only nights he had the chance to relax and get a good night's rest, maybe even sleep in a bit and sustain his teenage instinct to stay in bed until one in the afternoon, but he couldn't get to sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't help but remember his year of initiation, the year that the Golden Swords trained him for the field. It had been a difficult time, one full of grueling exercises and rote memorization of angel types and the best ways to kill those types, but it'd been all worth it in the end, even if he'd lost Thalia's trust in the process. At least he was feeding them. Paying off their debt. Jason thought back to the hours upon hours of training, whether it be hand-to-hand combat or using weapons such as guns, knives, and swords. He was forced to train all night for six days a week, drilling moves and tactics over and over and over again. With his memories in mind, Jason finally managed to drift off into a fitful sleep. And just like that, he was thrown back in time.

-Ω-

"I'm surprised you came back, newbie. I was betting that you'd chicken out. Angel hunting isn't a walk in the park, you know," Jason's instructor, Leo Valdez, told his trainee. He had been the one with the mischievous smile and eyes that glittered with waywardness. It was Jason's first day as an initiate for the organization, which he had learned was called the Golden Swords from Leo. He had yet to learn that Leo could fight like a demon if he needed to and could take Jason down in combat, despite the fact that he was a few inches shorter. Luckily he would serve mostly for the academic part of training, which Jason found boring to no end despite the fact that it'd saved him more than once or twice.

"It's good to be back, I guess," Jason replied and looked around. Leo had taken him through a door that'd branched off the room with the white angel wings displayed in the glass case, which was the meeting room. Now the scrawny Latino boy was leading him down a long, narrow corridor. Electric lights that were dimming and flickering were set at ten foot intervals, giving the hallway that this-is-either-a-haunted-insane-asylum-or-a-jail-with-demons-in-it kind of look.

Leo turned right at an intersection and stopped Jason in front of a heavily protected door. There were latches, padlocks, chains, finger scanners, and other securities that let everyone know that there was something important behind the door. Leo leaned in, his eyes dead serious, "Listen, Jason. If you walk in here and it's all too much for you, then you're not fit for this job. This is what angel hunting is all about." Jason was bewildered for quite a few moments and watched in a mix of curiosity and confusion as Leo produced a ring of keys (and a rather large one, at that) from his nifty tool belt and unlocked all of the padlocks using all of them at least once. He'd memorized which keys were which, and Jason began to sweat. Would he have to memorize which keys fit into which locks? He hoped not. The final barrier was the finger scanner, and Leo pressed his index finger to the pad before the door clicked, signaling access to the room.

Leo pushed the door open and Jason staggered slightly at the blinding light that reached his eyes, and he threw his arm up to shield himself as his eyes adjusted. Still half-blind, the blond staggered inside as Leo locked the door behind them, which he only later realized should've freaked him out; that would've been the exact time in the horror movie when the psychopath Latino serial killer in disguise cleaved his eyeballs out and sacrificed him to the angels on a stone pedestal. That thought, however, was not in Jason's head at the moment, for he was too busy blinking the spots out of his eyes as the image came into focus. He couldn't suppress a breathy gasp as he regarded the sight in front of him. It was a huge room, at least thirty feet long and twenty feet wide, but that wasn't the thing that made it unique; mounted on the walls were dozens of pairs of angel wings. Jason was awed at the vast collection, but was also aware of the fact that this meant that dozens of angels were wandering the world without wings, unable to fly back to Heaven and most likely severely pissed and capable of tearing a human to shreds with their bare hands.

The angel wings varied in size and color, like how no two people were exactly the same (if you ruled out twins). Jason saw a set of bright cerulean wings that were speckled with cobalt and lapis. Another set of wings was enormous, almost the size of the wings in the meeting room, and were the colors of a glorious sunset, streaked with reds, yellows, and maroons. There were all sorts of colors, ranging from classic white to dapple grey and even all the colors of the rainbow. There was one set of wings that sparkled so brightly Jason had to avert his eyes, and a navy pair that shined with galaxies in each feather.

"This is..." he struggled to find the right word for it. He could describe it as morbid and ghastly, but there was also the beauty of the wings, and the sheer amount and variations of them gave Jason a bit of vertigo. "…amazing." Leo gave a lopsided grin and gestured for him to follow. There were also glass cases that ran around the wall for wings that couldn't be hung up, whether they were too large or there was simply not enough room. Similar glass cases lay in parallel rows across the space in between, each one holding their own special pair of severed angel limbs. Jason barely suppressed a shiver. Some had sides that were open, leaving Jason capable of running his hands, though hesitantly, over them.

He had to admit that he was surprised at how soft and downy they were for things that could launch angels into the sky and carry them away in seconds. Jason didn't want to dwell on where exactly these gorgeous trinkets came from, but naturally Leo had to bring it up. "Most of these angels put up quite a fight," he told him as he gestured to all the wings around him. "In a few days the seven of us will wrap all of these in tarps, go to the Whisper and sell em'."

"What's the Whisper?" Jason asked. He had a feeling that it wasn't anything good, considering that Leo spoke of it like it was a place they frequented on a daily basis. Anywhere that these guys hung around couldn't possibly be kid-friendly, or person-friendly for that matter.

"It's like a pub, a strip club, and a nightclub all smashed together. It's down one of the alleys on Seraph Road," Leo replied, his voice filled with a cold humor that really set Jason on edge; he wasn't sure if there was seriousness laced under the elfish boy's words or if he was genuinely joking, and that was the first time that Jason became aware of the fact that Leo could be just as dangerous as Luke if he wanted to, despite their obvious differences. "It's certainly not somewhere that you'd wish to go in alone. More Candymen in there than there are out on the streets. The air is filled with the smell of tobacco and there are bound to be encounters with drunkards. Prostitutes everywhere. And strippers, both male and female."

"Why do you, we, go here again?" the initiate hissed. He knew that no decent man or woman would go to the Whisper, judging from Leo's detailed description, and even though he was going to live a life that involved stripping angels of their wings, he didn't want to hang out in the same place that involved people stripping off their clothes. Eventually he'd lose what civility he had left. Leo smirked a smirk that was filled with harsh coldness and malice, unlike his usually goofy grin. It sent chills up and down Jason's spine.

"Because it's the hub of the black market. It's not like we can sell these babies out in the open like people do with drugs around here," he chuckled unsmilingly. "People flock to us like flies to honey. We're paid handsomely, too. It's a win-win-situation"

The memory changed.

"The angel's only weakness is flight," Luke told Jason and gestured to the dummy in front of them. It was larger and more muscular than most dummies, probably to represent the fact that angels were more powerful and harder to attack than a regular human. Two wings, which were represented by ripped fabric hanging off of two metal poles, were attached to the dummy's back.

"I thought that flight would be a strength," Jason replied quizzically, regarding the replica with his cold blue eyes.

"It is on some levels, but when it comes down to it, it's more of a burden than a benefit. Angels depend too much on flying, and they know it. If you keep them from flying, they're helpless. It's difficult to keep them grounded, though; they know that most enemies concentrate on trying to keep them from flying rather than fighting. They simply fly away, choosing flight over fight," Luke explained.

"But if we have to keep them from flying, then we have to somehow damage their wings, and that will bring down the price they go for," Jason pointed out, fairly bewildered.

"There are other ways of keeping an angel down, you know. We have this." Luke walked to the wall, which was covered with mounted weapons, and selected one of the larger ones. "This will definitely get them dropping. If shot with this while in the air, they'll fall like stones."

He aimed the weapon at the dummy and pulled the trigger. A loud bang sent Jason's ears ringing, but that was nothing compared to his shock as a thick chain was launched at the poor manikin. On both ends were large, spherical weights that looked pretty heavy, and the chain wrapped around the dummy's torso with enough force to send a pro wrestler staggering. If it hadn't been bolted to the floor, it sure would have fallen over.

"Sadly, angels are quick and agile in the air, and if they see it coming they'll dodge it like nobody's business. We don't really use this weapon at all; even if we used it for surprise attacks, the loud bang will only alert them of our presence," Luke explained, unwinding the chains and the weights and reloading the weapon.

"Then what weapon do you use?" Jason questioned and turned to see Luke had returned the weapon to its place and had traded it for a handgun.

"We shoot them," he stated simply, smirking as he fired several shots at the dummy. Every single one found their mark. Jason gasped and clamped his hand over his mouth, causing Luke to chuckle, "They don't die, idiot; they're immortal. They can still feel pain, though, and they'll spiral to the ground if you can get a few good shots to the body." He turned to Jason, his blue eyes glittering. "Angels are nasty creatures, kid. Don't let their pretty faces and wings fool you. Behind that soft appearance is a cold-blooded monstrosity. Trust me when I say they deserve to suffer."

-Ω-

"Okay, Jason. It's your first hunt, but you're still in training; we're hunting as a group, but the rest of the time we all go our separate ways. The more people on the hunt, the more likely you are to alert the angel of your presence," Luke announced. The seven members of the Golden Swords were gathered in the alley, shuffling nervously. No matter how many times they went hunting, it was still a process that caused their stomachs to do flip-flops. It was even more so for Jason, who'd only seen angels in pictures and had only practiced on dummies and his teammates, both who couldn't fly like angels could. Fighting an actual angel would be a whole new experience, and a dangerous one at that.

Jason had learned that, depending on the type of angel, they could destroy you in countless lovely ways. There were six types of angels; fallen angels, death angels, messenger angels, fire angels, guardian angels, and Archangels, all of which were super deadly. Jason remembered the words that Leo had told him at one of his lessons:

-Ω-

"All of the angels I just listed can squash you like a bug, except for Archangels, though fallen angels aren't a problem for us; they hate angels and some of them are our number one buyers when we sell wings at the Whisper."

"But I thought that Archangels were almighty," Jason had asked, recalling the handul of years at Catholic school that his parents had forced him to attend. Oh how he wished S. Margaret could see him now. "Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Azrael; they're like the head honchos. Aren't they supposed to be all-powerful?"

"They are. They can't squash us like a bug because we don't hunt them," Leo had replied, his tone matter-of-fact and carrying a clear note of 'Duh, obviously'. "Even then, only Azrael regularly descends from Heaven, since he's the Angel of Death and all and his little death angel minions help him out, too." His expression turned solemn. "There's a rule that we can never, ever hunt Archangels if we ever encountered one. They're too strong and too powerful; challenging one will only end in your destruction and a one-way ticket to Hell. Other angels can't banish you to Hell, since that's the Archangels' decisions. We don't hunt them; we hide and pray that they don't find us."

-Ω-

What if we accidentally attack an Archangel? What if there's a flaw in the strategy and one of us ends up losing our life? Jason thought and looked around at his comrades, which had indeed become like a second family. Of course Leo and Luke were among the mix, but there were others.

The blonde girl that had reassured Jason when he had first met the Golden Swords was named Annabeth Chase. She was like the leader; a calm, collected braniac that could fight tooth and nail if it meant that she succeeded and kept her organization hush-hush. That's a part of the reason why angel hunting was so risky; if the angel got away they could report the Golden Swords to the Archangels, but if they were able to hack their wings off, they couldn't fly back. So far no angel got in a scuffle with a member of the Golden Swords and made it out with their wings, and Jason hoped that that wouldn't change tonight.

Luke, whose last name Jason had discovered was Castellan, was in charge of battle training and helped Annabeth create fighting tactics. He'd received his nasty scar when he tussled with a death angel and refused to give up until the angel's grey wings were mounted on his wall, and they remained there to this day. Jason had no idea why there were no angels with black wings, for it seemed customary to think that all death angels had jet-black wings like bottomless pits. "In all my years of angel hunting I have never seen an angel with completely black wings. Sure, I've seen a death angel or two with black wings speckled with white or gold, but never an angel with feathers that were entirely black. Sure, maybe Azrael has black wings, but he's an Archangel; an exception," Luke had told him, grinning and clapping him on the back as he said this. He was excellent with a sword and probably the most skilled and gifted fighter out of all of the Golden Swords.

But the second in command was a poker-faced girl named Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano. She and Jason had become very close during his time of training and she'd even take up the job as his trainer when Luke was out angel hunting or had fallen ill. Her fighting was like a deadly dance, though the one who fumbled their footing would likely be the one to wind up at the end of the sword. It had been mostly Jason who found himself going cross-eyed to see the blade leveled in front of him. Even so, Jason trusted Reyna with his life, and was glad that she'd come along, though it wasn't like she had much of a choice. Jason liked to think it was because she wanted to cheer him on and not because Annabeth had given anyone who tried to object her super-scary death glare.

Leo Valdez was the one who was good with tools, and while Annabeth was book smart about mortal things, Leo was the one who was the whiz on angels and everything there was to know about them. It was why he'd been Jason's "academic" teacher, if you considered academics identifying the best place to sever an angel's wings from their bodies while they were still alive. Leo made all the weapons, the traps, and even the glass cases that were custom-made for every set of wings brought in. He could usually be found in the huge forge connected to the Golden Swords' facility, which he'd named Bunker 9 (even though the other eight bunkers were nonexistent), and he rarely came out at all. Reyna had mockingly claimed that he was more skilled with communicating with machines than living things.

He was rusty when it came to fighting, but he played his part in the hunt by setting the traps beforehand; the most common style of angle hunting was waiting until one of the traps had been sprung and them ambushing. How did Leo lure the angels in? With demon parts, which were also sold on the black market. All angels were born to hunt demons, and if there was any sign of a demon lurking around they would check it out. Leo bought demon hair and scales, sometimes even demon feces; anything that a demon would naturally leave behind.

A trap would be set around it and once the angel was in close enough range, they were goners, usually ending up hog-tied with iron ropes or caught in nets. Leo also had come out with a model similar to a bear trap, but Luke had discontinued it, for it left the angel with a mangled ankle or even a severed foot. "We don't want the angels to suffer, we just want its wings. Injuring one to the point that it is both physically and mentally suffering is the lowest of crimes, even for us," he had said with an icy tone, and Jason could only agree with the statement.

The last two members of the team were Gwendolyn and Dakota. They refused to give their last names, claiming that if any other member of the Golden Swords were ever captured by angels and tortured, they wouldn't be able to give them exact names. Jason would've dubbed them paranoid, but he could see where they were coming from. He had no idea what their strengths and backgrounds were, for he rarely hung out with them, preferring to spend time with Leo, Reyna, and Luke. Annabeth rarely left the facility and was a huge bore, not to mention a total downer.

The one time he had hung out with Dakota and Gwen, he was told the story of a former member of the Golden Swords. "Octavian," Dakota said in a spooky and slurred voice, as if he were a pre-teen telling a scary story at the campfire…if pre-teens became severely intoxicated. He was a lover of all things alcohol, but kept his intake in check mostly because Annabeth would have his hide if he didn't. Jason was pretty sure that his alcohol consumption was part of the reason he had to hunt angels in the first place. "One day he jus' disappeared wi'out a trace. Annabeth thinks he jus' quit 'is life of angel hunting an' wen' back to 'is family wi' the money, but I think he wa s'out huntin' and confronted an Archangel. He wa s'never keen on findin' one angel type from 'nother, so he probably 'tacked it. No wonder why he wa s'never heard from again."

The thought of encountering an Archangel absolutely terrified Jason. He shivered despite the fact that it wasn't that cold, and worried his bottom lip in between his teeth as he tried to shove all of his thoughts to the side. Instead, he checked to make sure he had all of his weapons and reviewed the plan over and over in his head, along with the backup plans, and the backup plans for the backup plans. Luke had assured him that there had never been any need to use the backup plans; their tactics were foolproof.

"Is everyone ready?" Annabeth asked, her tone formal. Everyone nodded vigorously, eager to get on with the hunt. "You too, newbie?" she said, regarding Jason.

"Yes, ma'am!" the trainee replied, his voice tinged with a note of worry.

"Don't worry, you won't get hurt. I promise," Leo assured him with a pat on the back. Jason just wrung his hands and nodded tersely. His first hunt. He'd see his first angel tonight. He wasn't sure if he was excited with the thrill of the hunt, terrified that they'd attack an Archangel, or horrified that he was even participating in such an event. Maybe it was even a combination of all three. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and his heart was racing in his chest, but a wave of calm shot through all the nervousness and the worry. A battle calm that Luke had always described when he recalled his hunting escapades. Jason relaxed and set his jaw, determined to prove that he had what it took to be an angel hunter.

That's when a device in Leo's belt began to beep. "The alarm," Leo announced, sounding way too excited for a person about to commit a mortal sin. He, along with the rest of the Golden Swords, had been waiting in dead silence for one of the traps that they'd set up around town to be sprung, their faces grim and emotionless. "It's the trap in the alley on King Street."

"Let's go. Masks on," Reyna ordered and everyone obliged, pulling their masquerade masks over their faces. They were made of pure gold and each member's mask was shaped like a different animal. Reyna's was shaped like a swan with outstretched wings to act as the parts that covered her eyes, which glittered through the small holes carved into the metal. Annabeth's was very beautiful, each feather detailed to perfection and mimicking the facial disk of an owl. Her grey eyes watched Jason critically and he could almost see them being the owl's actual eyes. They were full of wisdom and disguised a lethal and deadly skill, hidden behind beauty and a faux look of fragility. Leo's was in the shape of a donkey, probably the least majestic of all of the masks, but Jason had to admit that it suited him well; he could be a real ass at times. He grinned and Jason was glad that the mask only covered his eyes and nose; if it was a full mask it would've looked as creepy as hell in the dark. Dakota's masquerade mask was in the shape of a leopard with fangs poking out from under the upper lip. Of course, since it was a masquerade mask like everyone else's, there was no jaw. Dakota's eyes were rather unfocused, signaling that he'd had a little too much to drink the night before, even though Annabeth and Reyna had specifically ordered him to lay off the alcohol in order to make sure that the hunt was successful. Gwen's mask was just a simple masquerade mask that was not in the shape of an animal. Jason had learned from the little time he had associated with her that she was a person that valued simplicity, and she did not want Annabeth to spend too much money on her gold mask, despite the fact that the leader was rich off the money that angel wings fetched for. Last but not least, Jason's mask was in the shape of an eagle. The eagle's beak, like that of his other comrades' bird masks, went down the bridge of his nose and hooked around the apex. When he had first gotten it he had been awestruck. This had been for him. He was officially a part of the team. Luke had watched smugly as he stared at it in wonder. He had never owned something so expensive or beautiful before.

If the angels escaped, they wouldn't be able to describe any facial features or even hair color, for the Golden Swords had all pulled their hoods over their heads. In the dark it would make it even harder for the angel to describe them.

"Let's move out," Annabeth ordered and the Golden Swords stalked out of the alley, looking around warily. If any of the locals saw them, they would've assumed that they were one of the many street gangs that wandered the streets in search of their next victim. Jason was aware of all of his arsenal bumping against his thighs. His gun was safely tucked away in its holster and his knives were all in sheathes. He was prepared for anything and everything the angel might throw at him; his clothes, jacket, boots, and masquerade mask were fireproof to protect from fire angels' flames. The soles of his boots were enchanted to prevent death angels from making the earth swallow him up, which was one of their more horrifying abilities.

The lamps that were actually working cast dim circles on the ground, illuminating the cracked sidewalk and faded street with a hazy yellow glow. The Golden Swords slipped in and out of the shadows in coordinated unison, using their training to make sure their feet did not make a sound as they walked. Annabeth flattened herself against the wall of a building and everyone followed her lead. She peered around the corner, some of the lamplight reflecting off the gold of her mask and causing it to shimmer. She made a motion that it was all clear and they slunk down King Street, their movements graceful and catlike.

Jason's heart beat like a drum and the blood was roaring in his ears. The angel was nearby if Leo's device was correct. That wasn't what he was scared of, though. Even though the wings in the trophy room were pretty to look at, he had never really seen the process that they needed to go through to acquire them. He braced himself for what was coming, because he knew that angels looked human. That they felt pain like humans. That they could feel emotion like humans. They were like elephants being hunted for ivory, except they had to suffer while their immortality prevented death and healed the wounds.

That's when he began hearing the sound of struggle. A grunt, a hiss of distaste, a frustrated growl, a curse in a foreign language that certainly didn't sound native to Earth. Annabeth put a finger to her lips and crept towards the alley which the noise was coming from. Jason was so nervous and excited that he nearly tripped over the curb, but Luke steadied him and gave him a look that clearly stated: I know how you feel. He was grateful for his support, but was more focused on the fact that his heart had relocated to his throat as Annabeth crept around the corner, a grin breaking out across her face.

"We caught ourselves a winner," she called softly over her shoulder and poised herself, striding into the alley with her head held high. The rest drifted behind her like shadows, hesitant but eager to see the prize. Gwen, Dakota, Luke, and Leo parted so Jason could get a good view. He sucked in a breath. The angel was beautiful.

His jet-black hair was plastered to his forehead and neck with sweat and his eyes, which were the color of dark chocolate, darted scanned them all one by one. They locked with Jason's and the teenager willed himself to hold his gaze steadily, when in reality he was almost as scared as the angel was. In the end it was the captured creature that looked away. His chest was bare, revealing chiseled abdominal muscles and deep, defined biceps. His shoulders were broad and his features like that of a god, but the image was ruined as Jason saw the raw fear and terror in his eyes.

The angel was wearing torn black jeans and his skin was pale to the point of chalkiness. You could see his panicked breathing by the way his sides heaved and by the gasping, panting breaths he managed to take. That's when Jason saw them; two huge wings the color of a stormy sky were folded behind his back, quivering with fear. He looked so human that Jason couldn't even imagine him harming a fly.

The poor thing had been forced to his knees as a heavy metal net draped over him with ropes like the cables on bridges, weighing him down. He was noticeably straining to stay upright and not collapse onto his side, his muscles bulging as he kept himself from keeling over. Jason knew that angels' strength was not infinite and that they did have their limits, but he couldn't help but expect him to shoulder the net off like it weighed nothing and launch himself at them. The angel, on the other hand, remained motionless as Annabeth approached him.

"Death angel. Wings are about five feet each. We'd get about three thousand for the both of them," she stated, her voice ringing through the night and echoing down the streets. Even though her voice was low, in the silence of the night it was as if she'd shouted, and the angel froze, his eyes widening.

"W-w-what do you mean?" he asked, his voice quivering. "I know you're probably a local gang or something but can you get me out? Please?"

He even talks like a human. I thought he'd be more formal and say stuff like 'thou' and 'thine' but he doesn't, Jason thought, filling with dread. How could he possibly watch this angel's wings be chopped off?

When they didn't answer him, the angel began to tremble, shaking the metal coils that trapped him slightly. "I don't know what's going on," he whimpered, his voice pleading. "But I need to get out. I need to get home."

Block out his voice, Jason. He's not human, he's a creature. He can live without his wings. He's immortal; he'll live forever without having to worry about death. After a few hundred years he won't even miss them, Jason chanted over and over in his mind, a litany of words that he was trying to convince himself of, but he knew that he didn't sound persuasive, even to himself.

"Hermes? Bacchus?" Annabeth asked. She was using the code names that she had given them. She was Athena, Gwen was Ceres, Leo was Hephaestus, and Jason was Jupiter. Bacchus and Hermes were Dakota and Luke's code names. The two boys advanced and the angel struggled feebly in the net, trying to get out. The feathers on his wings were getting crumpled and Jason cringed at the sight of such beautiful things being ruined.

They grabbed the angel's wings and forced them out of the gaps in the nets that were large enough for angel wings but too small for both humans and angels alike to squeeze through. The angel cried out and clawed at them, his nails catching on Luke's cheek, more like a frightened animal trying to defend itself than a fierce creature out for blood. He hissed through gritted teeth as three thin lines of blood trickles out of the shallow marks, and Jason found himself too terrified to look away as the scene unfolded before him.

"What is your name?" Annabeth asked, her voice so cold that it was surprising, even if she was surly most of the time.

"I am known as The Bringer of Bereavement," the angel spat, his voice filled with aggression. What was left of his scared, skittish self was gone. He bared his teeth and flapped his powerful wings, almost making Dakota and Luke lose their hold on them.

"No, your real name," Annabeth corrected, her eyes glittering like cold grey stars.

"Then call me Nicolas. My True Name cannot be spoken by you puny mortals," the angel, Nicolas, growled. "I didn't think you humans were worth much in the first place, but you must be even lesser than them. Lesser than the dogs that scrounge for scraps in the trash, or else you wouldn't be doing this in the first place." Anger towards the angel that Jason didn't know he had in him surged through the trainee's veins. His hands balled into fists at his sides and he so desperately wanted to nail the conceited angel in the face; he was doing this for his family of two. It was battered, it was broken, but it was still his family, and he had to get his family out of debt. How dare the angel try to understand something that was so clearly none of his business? He forced himself stayed behind Annabeth with Gwen and Leo. He shouldn't move unless ordered to; it was best for his safety and the safety of the rest of the Golden Swords.

"Alright, Nicolas…can I call you Nico?" Annabeth mocked, her voice merciless to the point where Jason was taken aback. He had never heard his leader talk in such a tone. "Nico, you have something that we want."

"And what might that be?" Nico snarled. "Because you're certainly not getting it. I can banish you to Hell with a snap of my fingers. You're playing with fire, my friends."

"No, you cannot, for you aren't an Archangel, but merely a lowly death angel. Your ranks will not miss you." Nico visibly paled as Annabeth said this; she had called his bluff and now he was aware of just how much they knew about his kind.

"What do you mean?" the angel's voice had turned gravelly, probably to hide the fear and astonishment in his voice. Annabeth gave Luke and Dakota a pointed look and they wrestled the angel's wings so that they were pinned to the ground. Luke stood and with one foot keeping the wing down he kicked the writhing angel so that he was on his stomach. The metal cords of the net prevented him from rising again and he cursed his captors and thrashed like nobody's business.

"Jason, since this is your first hunt I'd like you to do the honors," Annabeth told him with icy diction. Jason paled and his hands began to tremble, blood roaring in his ears as his heart hammered against his ribcage. All the fury from before had left him and he was now afraid of all the mortal sins that would pile on his shoulders as he kept walking down this path. He would go to Hell for sure, but there was always the option to back out; leave and never come back. But that would mean that his and Thalia's debt would pile higher and higher and they'd be left homeless and hungry. Even though his sister now hated him, he still cared about her with all his heart. On top of that, he would've been letting the Golden Swords down; they were his team, his friends, and his family. They'd seen potential in him and had taken him under their wing. Abandoning them would mean throwing away all of the good memories they'd shared. Jason couldn't bring himself to do that.

Annabeth handed him her sword, which looked like a long, sharpened bone, as he stepped forward, and he took it with quivering fingers. Inside, he was screaming. Voices warred within his mind, the metaphorical angel and demon on his shoulders tearing each other to shreds as they fought for dominance. He wasn't sure which one had won, but resolve thickened within his mind as he maintained a white-knuckled hilt on the double-edged, yet surprisingly light, sword's hilt. He approached the angel, who was slumped on the ground, exhausted from thrashing and when he looked up, his eyes growing impossibly wider when he saw the sword.

Jason chewed on his bottom lip, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead as he continued to advanced, step by painstaking step. Nico seemed to put two and two together and struggled feebly, and Jason could almost sense the fear pulsing off of him. "Please. Don't," he begged, his voice but a raspy whisper. "If you let me go and keep my wings I won't tell a single soul. I swear it on my immortality. Please." A tear slipped down his cheek as the last drop of his energy drained from him. Jason felt fissures spreading along the barrier he'd erected to keep the guilt out, and bits and pieces seeped out, beginning to torment him as they whispered of all the terrible karma he was going to receive if he did this. He was surprised that the thing held, and no matter how hard he tried to steel himself against the creature, the wall kept crumbling. He knew he had to do this, and fast, before it disintegrated completely.

Jason hesitated, looking to Luke for guidance, and his instructor gave a short nod of encouragement. The night sky spread over head like the black pelt of a bear, and the stars twinkled down accusingly, like angry Archangels. He thought of what Nico would see in the stars after his wings were severed from his body. Would he see home? Would he see friends? Family? But the feeling would be mutual; agonizing homesickness and sorrow. He wouldn't be able to return to the place he loved; he'd still keep his powers, but he would forever be anchored to the horrible, sin-ridden earth that was no place for an angel.

Jason quickly blocked out those thoughts and stopped right in front of the trembling angel, and he saw the muscles on Nico's back tense as he prepared for the worst. This is for the Thalia. Jason told himself as he raised the sword over his head. For Thalia. Nico let out a broken sob and screwed his eyes shut tight, shielding his head with his hands. For Thalia. Two thrusts of the razor-sharp blade and the wings were severed, such a short procedure for something so earth-shattering. Nico screamed at the top of his lungs and broke down into wails of sorrow and agony, and the others moved in and pulled the net from the crumbled form of the angel. Jason had tried to make it as clean-cut as possible, but there was still the slightest hint of stumps protruding from Nico's back.

Jason raised the wings up, feeling how surprisingly light they were compared to their size. Blood was everywhere; it dripped down from the detached wings and soaked into his hood. It came forth in rivers from the horrible wounds that marred Nico's back. His comrades cheered, but Jason didn't feel proud. He felt sickly and tainted. He had just mercilessly chopped off an angel's wings.

The Golden swords lifted him onto their shoulders, still carrying the steadily bleeding wings, and marched him back to the facility. He wasn't concentrated on their congratulations and cheering, though; all he was aware of was the horrible wails of Nico as they left him bleeding in the alley, which eventually bubbled into quiet sobbing.

-Ω-

Jason woke up with a jolt and a blood-curdling scream escaped his throat, the sound of Nico's cries of pain and suffering still ringing in his ears.