To 8Ball3- Yeah, the spirit of Delphi is just chilling now, she deserves it XD I WAS SO HAPPY WHEN THE HAIRBRUSH CAME BACK! ^_^ I liked the Olympus scene, but I wanted to change Aphrodite being a butthead, so... I made her at least somewhat considerate Apollo was gonna die :P

"I was dreaming…" He pointed weakly at Meg. "And you weren't there. Neither were you, Lu. Or Nico and Will…" These last two exchanged worried looks, no doubt wondering if Apollo had suffered brain damage.

"We need to get you to camp." Will said. "I'll get one of the pegasi-"

"No." Apollo struggled to sit up. "I- I have to leave." Lu snorted.

"Look at yourself, buddy. You're in worse shape than I am." She was right, of course. At the moment, Apollo doubted his hands were working as well as Lu's dagger attachments. His whole body shook with exhaustion. His muscles felt like worn-out tension cords. He had more cuts and bruises than the average rugby team. Nevertheless…

"I have no choice." He said. "Nectar, please? And supplies. More arrows. My bow."

"He's right, unfortunately." Rachel sighed. "Python…" She clenched her jaw as if forcing down a belch of serpent prophecy gas. "Python is getting stronger by the second."

Everyone looked grim, but no-one argued. After all they had been through, why would they? Apollo's confrontation with Python was just another impossible task in a day of impossible tasks. "I'll gather some supplies." Rachel kissed Apollo's forehead, then dashed off.

"Bow and quiver coming up." Nico said.

"And ukulele." Will added. Nico winced.

"Do we really hate Python that much?" Will raised an eyebrow. "Fine." Nico dashed off without kissing Apollo on the forehead, which was just as well. He couldn't have reached his forehead with the massive brim of his cowboy hat.

Lu glanced at Apollo.

"You did good, cellmate." Was he crying? Had there been any point in the last twenty-four hours when he hadn't been crying?

"Lu. You're good people. I'm sorry I mistrusted you."

"Eh." She waved one of her daggers. "That's OK, I thought you were pretty useless too."

"I- I didn't say useless."

"I should go check on the former Imperial family." She said. "They're looking a little lost without General Sapling." She winked at Meg, then lumbered off. There were some campers already with the foster siblings, talking to them in soothing tones.

Will pressed a vial of nectar into Apollo's hands.

"Drink this. And this." He handed over a Mountain Dew. "And here's some salve for those wounds." He gave the jar to Meg. "Could you do the honours? I have to find more bandages. I used up my supply outfitting Luguselwa Dagger-Hands." He hurried away, leaving Apollo alone with Meg.

She sat next to him, cross-legged and started finger-painting his ouchies with healing ointment. She had plenty of ouchies to choose from. He alternated drinking nectar and Mountain Dew, which was sort of like alternating between premium gasoline and regular gasoline.

Meg had thrown away her sandals, braving bare feet despite the arrows, rubble, bones and discarded weapons that littered the floor. Someone had given her an orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, which she had put on over her dress, making her allegiance clear. She still looked older and more sophisticated, but she also looked like his Meg.

"I'm so proud of you." He said, definitely not weeping like a baby now. "You were so strong. So brilliant. So- OW!" She had poked the dagger wound in his side, effectively silencing his compliments.

"Yeah, I know. I had to be. For them." She chin-pointed to her wayward siblings, who had broken down in the wake of Nero's death. A couple of them stormed around the room, throwing things and screaming hateful comments, while Luguselwa and the campers stood by, giving them space, watching to make sure the Imperials didn't hurt themselves or anyone else. Another child of Nero was curled up and sobbing between two Aphrodite counsellors, who had been pressed into service as grief counsellors. Nearby, one of the youngest Imperials appeared catatonic in the arms of a Hypnos camper, who rocked the child back and forth while singing lullabies.

In the space of an evening, the Imperial children had gone from enemies to victims who needed help and Camp Half-Blood was stepping up to the challenge. "They'll need time." Meg said. "And a lot of good support, like I got."

"They'll need you." Apollo interjected. "You showed them the way out." She shrugged a shoulder.

"You really got a lot of wounds."

Apollo let her work, but as he sipped his high-octane beverages, he considered that perhaps courage was a self-perpetuating cycle, like abuse. Nero had hoped to create miniature tortured versions of himself because that made him feel stronger. Meg had found the strength to oppose him because she saw how much her foster siblings needed her to succeed, to show them another way.

There were no guarantees. The Imperial demigods had dealt with so much for so long, some of them might never be able to come back from the darkness. Then again, there had been no guarantees for Meg either. There were still no guarantees that Apollo would come back from what awaited him in the caverns of Delphi. All any of them could do was try and hope that, in the end, the virtuous cycle would break the vicious one.

He scanned the throne room, wondering how long he had been unconscious. Outside, it was fully dark. Emergency lights pulsed against the side of the neighbouring building from the street far below. The thwump-thwump-thwump of a helicopter told him they were still making local news.

Most of the troglodytes had vanished, though Screech-Bling and a few of his lieutenants were present, having what looked like a serious conversation with Sherman Yang. Perhaps they were negotiating a division of the spoils of war. Apollo imagined Camp Half-Blood was about to be flush with Greek fire and Imperial gold weapons, while the trogs would have a wonderful new selection of haberdashery and whatever lizards and rocks they could find.

Demigod children of Demeter were tending the overgrown dryads, discussing how best to transport them back to camp. Over by the dais, some of the Apollo kids- wait, those were his kids! They were conducting triage operations. Jerry, Yan and Gracie, the newbies from camp, now all looked like seasoned demigods, shouting orders to the stretcher-bearers, examining the wounded, treating the campers and Germani alike.

The barbarians looked glum and dejected. None seemed to have the slightest interest in fighting. A few sported injuries that should have made them crumble to ash, but they were no longer creatures of Nero, bound to the living world by his power. They were just humans again, like Lu. They would have to find a new purpose for their remaining years and Apollo supposed none of them loved the idea of staying loyal to the cause of a dead emperor.

"You were right." He told Meg. "About trusting Lu. I was wrong." She patted his knuckles.

"Just keep saying that. I'm right. You're wrong. Been waiting months for you to realise it." She gave him a little smirk. Again, he could only marvel at how much she had changed. She still looked ready to do a cartwheel for no reason, or wipe her nose on her sleeve with zero shame, or eat an entire birthday cake just because yum, but she was no longer the half-wild alley-dwelling urchin he had met in January. She had grown taller and more confident. She carried herself like someone who owned this tower. And, for all he knew, she might now that Nero was dead, assuming the whole place didn't burn down.

"I…" His voice failed him. "Meg, I have to-"

"I know." She looked away long enough to wipe her cheek, knocking her glasses cockeyed in the process. "You have to do this next part on your own, huh?"

Apollo thought about the last time he had physically stood in the depths of Delphi, when he and Meg had inadvertently wandered there through the Labyrinth during a three-legged race. How simple things were then! The situation now was different. Python had grown too powerful. Having seen his lair in his dreams, Apollo knew no demigod could survive that place. The poisonous air alone would burn away flesh and melt lungs. He did not expect to survive there long himself, but in his heart he had always known this would be a one-way trip.

"I must do this alone." He agreed.

"How?" Leave it to Meg to distil the next important crisis of his four-thousand-year-plus life into a simple, unanswerable question.

He shook his head, wishing he had an unquestionable answer.

"I guess I have to trust that… that I won't screw up."

"Hmm."

"Oh, shut it, McCaffrey." She forced a smile. After a few more moments of putting salve on his wounds, she said,

"So… this is goodbye?" She swallowed the last word. He tried to find his voice. He seemed to have lost it somewhere down in his intestines.

"I- I will find you, Meg. Afterwards. Assuming…"

"No screw-ups." He made a sound between a laugh and a sob.

"Yes. But either way…" She nodded. Even if he survived, he would not be the same. The best he could hope for was to emerge from Delphi with his godhood restored, which was what he had wanted and dreamed about for the past six months. So, why did he feel so reluctant about leaving behind the broken, battered form of Lester Papadopoulos?

"Just come back to me, dummy. That's an order." She gave him a gentle hug, conscious of his injuries. Then she got to her feet and ran off to check on the Imperial demigods- her former family and possibly her family to yet to be.

Reyna and Leo were debating the sea shanties again. Calypso had zoned out, leaning on the table, her back to them. She was sifting through their notes, chewing on her thumbnail. Leo was adamant that they should rehearse some shanties to test Louisa the second they saw her, just to see what she would do. Reyna was adamant that he was an idiot and he needed a new, less idiotic brain, flicking him in the head for extra measure.

Calypso sighed, flipping to the next page and then back again. She had stared at these notes for hours and, while she understood Louisa much better now, she wasn't gleaning anything new from them anymore. At least it had given her some practise for this 'homework' Leo kept complaining about, something she would apparently be inundated with once she started school.

She was looking forward to this 'school'. There was so much learning she had to do, so much she had to catch up on. On their travels, Leo and Louisa had only really taught her about things like Harry Potter and cake and silly, fun things like that. She wanted to study poetry, music, history, anything really. There was so much potential in this school thing, she couldn't completely understand why Leo made faces at the mention of lessons. Maybe Reyna was right. Maybe he did need a new brain.

"Five drachmas says I can get her to do it." Leo defied, nodding smugly, arms folded. Reyna scoffed, rolling her eyes. That was quickly becoming a common reaction to Leo. Calypso wasn't sure if she should laugh or not- she could relate, but she also should probably, morally, defend her boyfriend.

"You're delusional. I'll take that bet." They shook on it.

Calypso set down the papers on the table behind her, folding her arms with a sigh. Neither of them noticed, Leo fiddling with things from his tool belt and Reyna studying his head, planning a brain transplant. Whose brain she was going to exchange his for, Calypso didn't even want to hazard a guess. Should she talk Reyna out of it? Leo did have a programme coming up, Jo had introduced him to it. Helping homeless kids with shop skills, something he was looking forward to. At least it would keep him busy, she mused, and away from Reyna's questionable operation skills.

A door opened across the room. Calypso's eyes focused on the movement automatically, thoughts still elsewhere. It took her a second, then two, to concentrate, screaming when she realised who was there. Her outburst startled the other two out of their bickering, but she hardly noticed, sprinting across the room and nearly knocking Louisa over with the force of her hug.

Louisa laughed softly, hugging her just as tightly back.

"I missed you too." She said quietly. Calypso drew back, beaming at her, happy tears pooling in her eyes.

"What are you doing here? Reyna said you'd gone home!" She couldn't help herself, so thrilled to see her that she was, squashing her in a hug and pressing a big kiss to her cheek.

"Hey!" Reyna protested. "Don't kiss my girlfriend!"

"Too slow!" Calypso called back teasingly, looking over her shoulder to stick her tongue out at her.

Reyna joined the hug, kissing Louisa's other cheek and tipping her nose up defiantly at Calypso. Leo was a split second behind her, squashing between the other girls and leaning forward to kiss Louisa on the forehead.

"What?" He said at their mixed looks. "Thought it was only fair."

Louisa couldn't focus on any one of them, so huddled together that they were, but they were all smiling at her. Calypso wiped her eyes, beaming, touching her cheek as if she couldn't believe she was there. Leo was grinning at her, clearly with some scheme in mind, but also excited she was back. And Reyna- Reyna had that smile that said, You turned up at a good time. You almost missed the murders. But she too was happy to see her, her arm around her shoulders.

Leo's grin dwindled as he pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at her. "What did you do to your hair?" He had expected a sarcastic response, maybe a counter of 'Why haven't you done anythin' to your hair?'

He did not expect her to start crying.

All three of them clamoured around her, Leo hastily apologising, Calypso trying to ask what was wrong and Reyna trying to reassure her. The hug tightened and Louisa held them all to her as best she could, not sure if she was crying on Leo or Reyna's shoulder. Someone was there. They were all there and, even though she was crying and even though Reyna was quietly telling the other two about the team-up with Jason's spirit resulting in the addition to her hair, she was starting to feel more grounded than she had in a long time.

They managed to get her into a chair. Someone got her water. Someone got her a blanket and the other someone sat with her, holding her hand, patting her arm. She couldn't really see or tell who was doing what, because they whirled around in tornado of worry and comforting smiles. Someone brushed her hair out, braiding it gently. Someone presented her with a plate of carrot sticks and a box of tissues. Someone was still holding her hand, but the patting had stopped. She figured it was someone else, the hand felt different- still kind and caring, but different.

Eventually, she calmed down, munching on the carrot sticks. They were still quite cold and the crunch seemed to realign her brain to now rather than her grief. She blinked, wiped her face on the blanket. Reyna was sitting in a chair opposite her, holding her hand in both of hers, running her thumb over her knuckles. Leo was perched on the edge of the table, his hand on her shoulder. Calypso was sitting on the floor on her right, resting her arm on her leg, her chin on her forearm. She looked up at Louisa, smiling softly.

"Are you OK?" She asked, drawing circles on Louisa's knee with her fingertips, her touch featherlight. Louisa managed a wobbly nod, sniffing.

"I missed you." She croaked, looking round at them all. They all smiled at her, agreeing with her, but confirming they were all back together. She reached for her glass of water, Leo passing it over. She managed a few, small sips and then passed it back. "I…" She hesitated. She had talked this over with Storm, Storm had helped her figure it out. She was feeding in the Waystation's stable now, working her way through a nice stack of hay.

Reyna squeezed her hand, her smile softening with understanding.

"We've had quite a bit of time to talk about you." She said.

"We even made notes!" Leo grinned proudly, wafting the pages in her face. Reyna smacked his hand away, shushing him.

"Lou." Reyna called. Her tone was firm, but in the sense that she knew what was coming and she wanted her to know that she understood, that it was OK, but she had to be honest with herself too. "We get it. We need you too."

Louisa blinked at her, sniffling and wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

"Ew." Calypso remarked, shoving the tissue box at her. Louisa took one with a shaking hand, but didn't use it. She concentrated on Reyna.

"You're… not mad?"

"You left me with Leo. Of course I'm mad."

"He's an idiot."

"Yes, he is."

"I'm right here."

"Shuuuusshhhh, the grown-ups are talking."

"Where are they then?"

"See, this is what I mean. I'm going to kill him." Reyna glared at him sidelong, a silent challenge. Leo tipped his chin up, arms folded, Bring it on. Louisa shook her head, smiling feebly.

"Don't kill him." She requested. "Please?" Reyna sighed.

"Fine. But only because you asked nicely."

"Thank you." Louisa looked from one to the other. She knew what she was doing, what they were agreeing to, was right for her, right for them all, but it didn't stop her stomach twisting into knots. "How- how do we-? How do I-? I don't…"

"Ooh, I got that one sorted." Leo grinned. "I mean, it's only a draft, I know there's lots of stuff to work out and whatnot, but I did get this." He rummaged in his tool belt and withdrew a little card, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter, importantly. "I'm Leo-"

"You need a card to tell you that?" Reyna smirked.

"This is my girlfriend, Calypso." He continued, ignoring her and motioning to Calypso. "And our girlfriend, Louisa." He motioned to her. "And her girlfriend, Rudena. I mean, RARA." He squinted at the card, bringing it closer to his face. "Whoever wrote this had so many ideas for that last one, they didn't all fit and now I can't read them. Ow." He said as Reyna thumped him in the knee. He folded the card up and balanced it on his palm, flicking it at her head. "What'd you think, Lou?" He grinned. She stared back at him, fiddling with the blankets.

"I don't know." She admitted.

"Ha!" Calypso brightened. "You broke her this time, not me!"

"Ah, yes, that reminds me." Reyna wagged a finger in Louisa's face. "What's this I hear about the Paris catacombs?" Heat flooded Louisa's face.

"That wasn't me, that was Callie!"

"Is that where this all started? No, don't do that!" Reyna tugged at the blanket as Louisa threw it over her head. "Come out!"

"I'm bi!"

"No, not that kind of come out!" Reyna huffed. Leo cackled, clapping excitedly.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

All his other friends seemed to understand too.

Will did some last-minute bandaging. Nico handed him his weapons. Rachel gave him a new pack stuffed with supplies. But none of them offered any lingering goodbyes. They knew every minute counted now. They wished him luck and let him go.

As he passed, Screech-Bling and the troglodyte lieutenants stood at attention and removed their headwear- all six hundred and twenty hats. Apollo recognised the honour. He nodded his thanks and forged on across the broken threshold before he could melt into another fit of ugly sobbing.

He passed Austin and Kayla in the antechamber, tending to more wounded and directing younger demigods in clean-up efforts. They both gave him weary smiles, acknowledging the million things they didn't have time to say. He pushed on.

He ran into Chiron by the elevators, on his way to deliver more medical supplies.

"You came to our rescue." Apollo said. "Thank you." The centaur looked down at him benevolently, his head nearly scraping the ceiling, which had not been designed to accommodate centaurs.

"We all have a duty to rescue each other, wouldn't you say?" Apollo nodded, wondering how the centaur had become so wise over the centuries and why that same wisdom had escaped him until he had been Lesterised.

"And did your… joint task force meeting go well?" Apollo asked, trying to remember what Dionysus had told him about why Chiron had been away. It seemed so long ago. "Something about a severed cat's head?" Chiron chuckled.

"A severed head. And a cat. Two different, uh… people. Acquaintances of mine from other pantheons. We were discussing a mutual problem." He just threw that information out there as if it wasn't a brain-exploding grenade. Chiron had acquaintances from other pantheons? Of course he did. And a mutual problem…?

"Do I want to know?"

"No." He said gravely. "You really don't." He offered his hand. "Good luck, Apollo." They shook and Apollo carried on.

He found the stairs and took them. He didn't trust the elevators. During his dream in the cell, he had seen himself sweeping down the stairwells of the tower when he fell to Delphi. He was determined to take the same path in real life. Maybe it wouldn't matter, but he would have felt silly if he took a wrong turn on his way to confront Python and ended up getting arrested by the NYPD in the Triumvirate Holdings lobby.

His bow and quiver jostled against his back, clanging against his ukulele strings. His new supply pack felt cold and heavy. He held on to the railing so his wobbly legs couldn't collapse under him. His ribs felt like they had been newly tattooed with lava, but considering everything he had been through, he felt remarkably whole. Maybe his mortal body was giving him one last push. Maybe his godly constitution was kicking in to help. Maybe it was the nectar-and-Mountain-Dew cocktail coursing through his bloodstream. Whatever it was, he could take all the help he could get.

Ten floors. Twenty floors. He lost track. Stairwells were horrible, disorientating places. He was alone with the sound of his footsteps and his breathing.

A few more floors and he began to smell smoke. The hazy air stung his eyes. Apparently, part of the building was still on fire.

The smoke got thicker as he continued to descend. He began to cough and gag. He pressed his forearm over his nose and mouth and found that this did not make a very good filter. His consciousness swam. He considered opening a side door and trying to find fresh air, but he couldn't see any exits. Weren't stairwells supposed to have those? His lungs screamed. His oxygen-deprived brain felt like it was about to pop out of his skull, sprout wings and fly away.

He trudged forward. At some point, he had reached a level surface. He could see nothing through the smoke.

The ceiling got lower and lower. He stretched out his hands, searching for any kind of support. On either side of him, his fingers brushed against warm, solid rock.

The passageway continued to shrink. Ultimately, he was forced to crawl, sandwiched between two horizontal sheets of stone with barely enough room to raise his head. His ukulele wedged itself in his armpit. His quiver scraped against the ceiling.

He began to squirm and hyperventilate from claustrophobia, but he forced himself to calm down. He was not stuck. He could breathe, strangely enough. The smoke had changed to volcanic gas, which tasted terrible and smelled worse, but his burning lungs somehow continued to process it. His respiratory system might melt later, but right now, he was still sucking in the sulphur.

He knew this smell. He was somewhere in the tunnels beneath Delphi. Thanks to the magic of the Labyrinth and/or some strange sorcerous high-speed link that connected Nero's tower to the reptile's lair, he had climbed, walked, stumbled and crawled halfway across the world in a few minutes. His aching legs felt every mile.

He wriggled onward, towards a dim light in the distance. Rumbling noises echoed through a much larger space ahead. Something huge and heavy was breathing.

The crawlspace ended abruptly. He found himself peering down from the lip of a small crevice, like an air vent. Below him spread an enormous cavern- the lair of Python.

When he had fought Python before, thousands of years ago, he hadn't needed to seek out this place. He had lured him into the upper world and fought him in the fresh air and sunlight, which had been much better.

Now, looking down from his crawlspace, Apollo wished he could be anywhere else. The floor stretched for several football fields, punctuated by stalagmites and split by a web of glowing volcanic fissures that spewed plumes of gas. The uneven rock surface was covered with a shag carpet of horror: centuries of discarded snakeskins, bones and the desiccated carcasses of… he didn't want to know. Python had all those volcanic crevices right there and he couldn't be bothered to incinerate his trash?

The monster himself, roughly the size of a dozen jack-knifed cargo trucks, took up the back quarter of the cavern. His body was a mountain of reptilian coils, rippling with muscle, but he was more than simply a big snake. Python shifted and changed as it suited him- sprouting clawed feet or vestigial bat wings or extra hissing heads along the side of his body, all of which withered and dropped off as rapidly as they formed. He was the reptilian conglomeration of everything that mammals feared in their deeper, most primal nightmares.

Apollo had suppressed the memory of just how hideous Python was. He preferred him when he had been obscured in poisonous fumes. His cab-size head rested on one of his coils. His eyes were closed, but that didn't fool Apollo. The monster never really slept. He only waited… for his hunger to swell, for his chance at world domination, for small foolish Lesters to jump into his cave.

At the moment, a shimmering haze seemed to be settling over him, like the embers of a spectacular fireworks show. With nauseating certainty, Apollo realised he was watching Python absorb the last remnants of the fallen Triumvirate's power. The reptile looked blissful, soaking in all that warm Nero-y goodness.

Apollo had to hurry. He had one shot at defeating his old enemy. He was not ready. He was not rested. He was definitely not bringing his A-game. In fact, he had been so far below his A-game for so long, he could barely remember any letters north of LMNOP.

Yet, somehow, he had got this far. He felt a tingly sensation of power building under his skin- perhaps his divine self, trying to reassert itself in the proximity of his old archnemesis. He hoped it was that and not just his mortal body combusting.

He managed to manoeuvre his bow into his hands, draw an arrow and load it- no easy task while lying flat on one's stomach in a crawlspace. He even managed to avoid clanging his ukulele against the rocks and giving away his position with a rousing open chord.

So far so good.

Deep breath. This was for Meg. For Jason. For everyone who had fought and sacrificed to drag his sorry mortal butt from quest to quest for the last six months, just to get him this chance at redemption.

He kicked forward, spilling head first out of the crack in the ceiling. He flipped in mid-air, aimed… and fired his arrow at Python's head.