A/N:Well. Um. Hi? Tell you what, I'll give you a fun quote and you can just forget that this chapter was late. "Some people are like clouds. When they disappear, it's a beautiful day." ~Google Search. There. Anyways, Christmas update! Yay! Impi

Dean was back in Hell. He'd thought he'd gotten out, but that must have been one of Alastair's tricks, one of the crueler ones, letting him believe he was free only to drag him back down, because here he was, surrounded by hell and red and blood and sulfur and—

His eyes opened, and all of a sudden he was back in the crappy motel room.

"Hello, Dean." He heard a voice, which sounded familiar. It took him a moment to place it, though. "What were you…dreaming about?"

He turned to face the angel. "What, do you get your freak on by watching other people sleep? What do you want?"

"Listen to me." He said, sounding grave. "You have to stop it." It also seemed like he was trying to be intentionally vague.

"Stop what?"

Without answering, Castiel reached up and put two fingers to Dean's forehead, like he was trying to recite the Girl Scout Promise in Dean's personal space.

When he opened his eyes again, he was being talked at by a police officer, who, despite asking Dean to move, didn't seem to be too harsh.

"Move it buddy—you can't sleep here." The guy said, shaking Dean.

He blinked in confusion. "Okay... sleep... where?" He asked, trying to figure out where he was and what, exactly, the angel had done with him.

"Anywhere but here." The police guy said again.

He walked away, and Dean sat up dizzily. His coat was thrown over his lap, and he pulled out the journal and his phone, opening it up.

The 'no signal' sign beeped at him, and he waved it around, but couldn't find the signal. "Perfect." He muttered.

He got off the bench at last, and entered the diner across the street. He sat down next to someone he imagined looked similar to his dad, had his dad been younger.

"Hey, where the hell am I?"

"Jay Bird's Diner." The dude gave him a look like he was some sort of hooligan who'd spent too much time drinking.

"Yeah, thanks." Dean said. Like he couldn't see the sign on the way in. "I mean, uh... city and state."

"Lawrence, Kansas?" He somehow made the end of the statement a question, like, 'I can't believe you don't know.'

"Lawrence." Dean repeated.

"Hey, you okay buddy?" The Guy asked. He seemed to finally be catching on to the thought that something maybe wasn't right. He gave Dean a look of concern, and while Dean appreciated the thought, it wasn't like there was anything he could do.

"Yeah, tough night." Dean excused.

"Hey, uh, coffee here, Reg." The Guy waved at the person behind the counter.

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, and looked at it for a moment. "Can you tell me where I can get reception on this thing?"

"The USS Enterprise?" The Guy next to him scoffed.

Dean looked at his phone. It wasn't Star Trecky. It wasn't even the top quality, compared to the newer phones that had been coming out. It wasn't unusual in the slightest. No…

'Reg' came over with the coffee, dressed like some kind of awful hippie. Early Sonny Bono.

"Thanks... nice threads." Dean couldn't resist digging. "You know Sonny and Cher broke up, right?"

"Sonny and Cher broke up?" The Guy looked at him with wide eyes, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Dean took another look around the diner, finally noticing what he had missed the first time around. Everyone was dressed in 70s-era clothes. Every single one of them. If Dean didn't know better, he'd have guessed that he was at some sort of weird themed convention.

In fact, that's exactly what he would have said was going on, if he didn't look at the newspaper the Guy was holding.

Nixon accepts resignation of top— The headline read, before the rest of it was blocked by the Guy's hand. It didn't stop him from seeing the date, though.

Monday, April 30th.

1973.

Dean mouthed 'seventy-three' in disbelief, trying to digest the fact that apparently, he'd time-travelled.

Suddenly the hippie clothes made a lot more sense.

The bell over the door 'dinged' as a new customer entered the diner. "Hey, Winchester."

Despite there being no way anybody would know him, Dean's head whipped around, the same time as the Guy's did, too.

The newcomer walked up and shook the Guy's hand. "Son of a bitch. How you doing, Corporal?"

"Hey, Mr. D." The Guy greeted, smiling.

"I heard you were back." The newcomer continued, seeming thrilled.

"Yeah, a little while now." The Guy nodded.

"Good to have you home, John, damn good."

And the pieces suddenly connected for Dean. John. Winchester. Back from the army, wasn't he? 1973. And the angel, Castiel, telling him to stop 'it.'

Something was gonna happen, and he was sitting right next to his dad.

"Dad?" Dean asked, experiencing a momentary loss of control over his thoughts.

"Well, say hello to your old man for me." Mr. D said, carrying on.

A thought struck Dean. Didn't John's dad, his grandfather, abandon John when he was a young kid?

"You got it, Mr. D." John answered. Mr. D walked away, and Dean was left staring at his dad, the weirdness of the entire situation catching up to him and leaving him blindsided.

"Do we know each other?" John asked.

Dean tried to stop. "I guess not."

"Take it easy, pal." John left the restaurant, Dena watching him go.

"Yeah." Dean muttered at John's back.

He waited a moment longer, then got up and began following him, keeping John within eye's view. He tossed a few bills on the table and left quickly.

He was rounding a corner when he bumped into Castiel.

"What is this?" He demanded, stopping short and gesturing at the scene around him.

"What does it look like?" The angel retorted.

Dean tried a different tactic. "Is it real?"

"Very."

"Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some DeLoreans?" Dean asked. He was out and about in 1973, and the whole thing was giving him creepy vibes. It just felt wrong. "How did I get here?"

"Time is fluid, Dean. It's not easy, but we can bend it on occasion." The angel answered.

"Well, bend it back or tell me what the hell I'm doing here!" Dean said, raising his voice.

"I told you, you have to stop it." Castiel said, as if that made everything clearer. He stubbornly remained as helpfully vague as earlier.

"Stop what? Huh? What, is there something nasty after my Dad?" A little foreknowledge or at least a hint would be nice.

Chase rounded the corner blinking sleep out of his eyes, his hair messed up as if he had fallen out of bed and landed straight into 1973. He yawned, then froze when he saw the angel.

"Gods, you're even more terrifying in person." He commented. He didn't sound particularly scared, maybe annoyed at the most, but Chase was a walking, lying, enigma.

And what was up with the plural 'gods?' Chase didn't seem like was religious. Like, at all.

The angel made a disgusted face, and waved his hand. "Stop using the Mist. It's highly distracting."

Dean watched in amazement as Chase's facial features shifted and he became just the slightest bit tanner, even changing height by a couple of inches as he morphed into someone that tickled Dean's memory.

"Oh, screw you." Chase said, raising his middle finger.

There was the sound of a dying bird, and when Dean turned to look back at Castiel, he was gone.

Chase breathed out in a sigh of relief, re-capturing Dean's attention. "I'm glad he's gone. It's just so…. Eckhhh. Like holy water, but out the wazoo."

Dean had no idea what he was talking about. "You- you're not Chase. This entire time, you've been hiding. Who are you, really?" He held himself at the ready, prepared for the worst.

Chase ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. "You're not gonna like it."

"Who are you?" Dean demanded. He wasn't about to let Chase get away without answering again.

"Perseus Jackson." Chase answered quietly. Dean still caught it. "I go by Percy."

Oh. Oh.

That's where he recognized the face from.

Oh.

Without warning, he grabbed Chase….Percy by the front of his shirt and tossed him against the nearby wall, before punching him solidly in the face.

"What the fuck, man?" He yelled, not caring about the attention he might get. He landed another blow. "Do you know what that did to Sam?"

Chase-Percy looked close to tears. "It wasn't like I had a choice!" He defended. He raised his arms to block another punch.

"Are you kidding me? No choice?" Dean nearly screamed. "It killed Sam! And you just stood away, for what, three years, never once saying you were alive?"

Percy hung his head.

"And then what?" Dean continued. "You show up pretending to be somebody else to what, get close to Sam all over again?"

"No! Fuck no!" Percy said. "I'm actually on a job, believe it or not." There was a slight hesitation in the way Percy said 'job,' as if he wasn't used to using the word that way. "Besides. You may recall," He added sourly. "I never wanted to be here. There. Wherever."

"Why?" Dean asked.

Percy understood what Dean meant. Not 'why didn't you want to be here,' but 'why did you stay gone,' 'what was so impossibly important that you couldn't come back.'

The look in Percy's eyes was heartbreaking when he looked up at Dean again, a red mark blossoming on his cheek. "Because the demon had Annabeth." He stopped himself from saying more, looking at Dean with regret.

"What?" Dean asked, feeling like all the anger had gone out of him at once, but he must have heard wrong. "Demon?"

"Yeah…" Percy looked down at the ground. "In the apartment. That weekend after Halloween, when you took your brother and investigated the Woman in White."

"How do you know that?" Dean asked, suspicious again. That was the day Percy had died. Or not-died.

"Iris messaging, and a light bit of stalking." Percy said, voice quiet. "But it doesn't matter. The demons have Annabeth, and they gave me three and a half years to get her back, in exchange for, and I quote, 'the leader of their army.'"

Dean stared at Percy, who kept his head down. He couldn't possibly be talking about Sam, could he? "Did the demons say that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Percy nodded. "And they still have her hostage. Three years, and I've never been able to get close enough to get her. Problem is, I can't give them what they want, because I don't know who the hell their stupid leader is."

Dean felt a sinking sensation. "Percy, demons aren't people. They don't hold hostages." He ignored the whole part about their leader, not willing to let Percy know that the person the demons wanted was within reach.

Percy sagged against the wall. "She isn't dead." He said, sounding so sure of himself. Dean applauded his conviction to the fact.

"I'm not saying she's dead." Dean said. "But demons, they're incorporeal. They can't hold, physically. The only way for them to keep someone out of reach?"

Percy looked up, realization in his eyes. "Possess them."

"Bingo."

"If it's anything like the eidolons… She wouldn't know she's possessed."

"Well, I dunno what the deal with the idealists is, but demons like to make the hosts watch. If anything, I'd be willing to stake my life that Annabeth knows."

"But she…Annabeth's the one that told Nico about the Hunters!" He glanced at Dean, then looked away. "Artemis."

"Yeah. They have access to Annabeth's memories. They know everything she knows."

"Then they have the prophecy." Percy said. He smacked his forehead and looked to the sky, apprehensively. He looked slightly scared of it somehow. Dean could get fear of heights (having experienced it enough himself), but Percy's reaction seemed unwarranted.

"What? You believe in that mystic mumbo-jumbo crap?" Dean asked.

Percy rolled his eyes. "Um , kind of. Since, you know, she was never wrong."

At Dean's questioning look, Percy explained. "The Oracle. Kinda like the one from Delphi, only she used to live in our attic. Now she's just a part time visitor."

Dean knew Percy was probably trying to confuse him. He just let it slide, promising mentally that he'd get straighter answers later. "What's this prophecy, then? The one the demons have now?"

Percy looked him square in the eyes, and started reciting something that sounded suspiciously made up. "What once was separate, now is one/The Soldier, Boy King, and the Son/The sea seeks help, the stories shall merge,/The clock is ticking towards the Purge/But sulphur steals, till debt is paid/And a fateful bond re-made." He shook his head. "And, as with normal prophecies, we're not gonna know what it means until it has already happened. And usually, prophecies give at least some direction, but this one…. Man, it sucks. Don't bother puzzling it out."

Unfortunately, Dean already had some pretty bad ideas of where the so-called prophecy was heading.

Percy looked suddenly worried. "Wait a second. Annabeth's the one who told Nico the Hunters were dying. I have to stop Nico before he gets there. "

"First thing's first." Dean said. "So far none of that's happened. We're still stuck in '73. So if we're gonna do anything about that, we gotta do whatever the heck the angel sent us here to do, and get the heck outta dodge."

"Okay." Percy stood up straighter.

He made to leave, then stopped and turned. "Please, Dean…Don't tell Sam. Not yet."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why not, huh? What's the big deal?"

Percy shook his head. "I can't. I've been gone too long, and besides, I'm just not important anymore." He started walking away, to who knows where, and Dean speedwalked for a moment to catch up.

"Well that's a stupid excuse. You wanna tell me the actual reason?"

"Dean. I can't." Percy said. He sighed. "I… I'm not the same Percy as I was three years ago. I'm really not here to stay. Why are you so worried about this all of a sudden?"

Dean couldn't actually tell him. He didn't know much himself, but having deemed Percy as at least half-way trustable, he felt determined to show Sam that Percy wasn't dead after all. Plus, he was a shit liar when it came to Sam.

Percy seemed to have no such compunction.

"Well, when are you gonna tell him, huh? You plannin' on keeping this charade up forever?"

"Yeah, actually!" Percy retorted. "I don't see why it's such a big deal to have everybody know my secret identity or whatever, but even so, I'm really not planning to stick around long enough for this to ever become an actual issue! I'm just here to fix the problem and go home! So let's go fix it!"

Somehow they had ended up by a car dealership, and behind Percy, Dean spotted John yet again.

Percy turned around, glancing to check what Dean was watching.

"So, lemme guess." He snarked. "Either you're a closet narcissist, or that's your dad. He looks like you."

Dean didn't even bother to grace that with an answer.

"And I would assume that's the 'it' we have to stop?" Percy continued.

"Goddamn angel was about as clear as tar." Dean grumbled, eyes alighting on a very familiar car.

Which John's back was to, like he had no intention of buying it.

Well. That needed to be corrected.

Dean strode over purposefully, ignoring Percy's "Hey!" and going to greet the other guy.

"That's not the one you want." Dean said, leaning on the past-Baby, watching John scrutinize the ugly-ass VW van. Beige. Really.

"You following me?" John asked defensively, just as Percy came jogging up to them. He blew an extra strand of hair out his face.

"No, no, I was just passing by." Dean lied easily. He gave John a small smile. "I never got to thank you for that cup of coffee this morning. I was a little out of it."

"More than a little." John added.

Percy looked between the two, trying to figure out what had happened that morning.

"Let me repay the favor." Dean said.

Percy looked at the car Dean was leaning on, and gave a soft, "oh."

"This is the one you want." Dean said, patting the Impala fondly.

"Oh yeah, you – you know something about cars?" John asked.

Percy leaned over and started inspecting the Impala. There was no way he'd recognize it—this far in the past, the license plates were different, and all of the little scratches and Legos-in-the-vents and things like that hadn't happened yet.

Somehow, though, he seemed to know it was the Impala.

"Yeah... yeah, my Dad taught me everything I know." Dean nearly slipped and said "you," but he caught himself in time. "And this – this is a great car."

Percy looked it over. "Dude." He said. "I'm already jealous. And believe me, I—" He cut off when Dean gave him a glare. Dean had a suspicion of where that comment was gonna go, what with Percy's tendency to over-share. And that was maybe the last thing he wanted.

"Who're you?" John asked suspiciously.

"Jason Grace." Percy said brightly, sticking his hand out. It seemed like all of his morose-ness from earlier had just evaporated in the face of John. Dean wondered how he had come up with a name so fast, because it was obviously fake. Disregarding the fact that Dean knew Percy's real name, Jason Grace was just the kind of name both common enough and ridiculous enough to be impossible.

Dean wondered where he had pulled the name out of. No doubt Percy was thinking of his recent encounter of the angel. "Nice to meet you." Percy added, almost like an afterthought.

John shook it, giving Percy a strange kind of side-eye.

"He with you?" John asked Dean.

"Unfortunately."

Percy discreetly kicked Dean, and he must have been wearing special shoes or something because ouch that hurt.

John looked at Percy again. He seemed to be judging him, somehow, and Dean was terrified that Percy would somehow manage to slip up and john would somehow know that the two of them didn't belong in 1973.

Percy smiled (and honestly, he seemed like a hyper kid, just happy and cheery and all over the place) and pulled a pen out of his pocket, flipping it in the air and catching it casually. "Anyways, what's the deal with the van?"

"I kinda promised someone I'd buy it." John said. He looked at the Impala, and back at the van now behind him.

"Over a '67 Chevy? I mean, come on, this is the car of a lifetime. Trust me, this thing's still gonna be badass when it's forty." Dean added quickly. Man, if his dad ended up buying that stupid van and that was what Dean-of-the-future was gonna be stuck with, he was gonna throttle Percy. He didn't ask for the stupid guy to show up, anyways.

John was looking at the Impala again, seriously considering it this time, and Dean held his breath.

"John Winchester. Thanks." He nodded.

Percy looked somehow relieved—but again, he couldn't know what exactly was going on, could he?

Well, he had shown to be by no means stupid. Maybe he knew exactly what was going on.

Then the pen smacked Percy in the face and Dean was proven wrong. Percy gave an embarrassed little laugh, but kept flipping it.

"Dean Van Halen," Dean introduced to him, hearing a barely-suppressed snort from Percy in the background. "– and thank you."

Dean watched as John finally took a good look at the Impala, as opposed to thinking about that VW van.

"I was in pretty rough shape this morning, huh?" Dean asked.

"No kidding." John said, looking relieved, like Thank god this guy isn't a weirdo all the time.

"I've been hung over before but, hey, I was…I was getting chills in that diner." Dean carried on. "You didn't feel any of those cold spots, did you?"

"Nope." John said.

"I swore I—" Percy cut him off.

"Thanks, John." He said. "My friend's got real sensitivity to air conditioning, that was probably his problem." He stepped in front of Dean, and when he straightened to his full height, he was about the same height as Dean.

Fantastic.

"We'll be out of your hair now." Dammit, Percy was ruining this! There'd be no way he'd reasonably be able to find out anything from John whether anything supernatural was headed this way. "Bye."

Percy started dragging Dean away, making it seem willing to John, who was watching them curiously.

Dean had no choice but to follow, or be dragged around awkwardly while John stared at the freaks. He really didn't need to make things worse between him and the man. He'd probably end up saving his dad's life, sometime likely soon. He really didn't want to make a worse mess.

"What the hell, man? Something's going to happen, and you won't even let me figure it out?"

"Who says we won't be able to figure it out?" Percy smirked. "Don't tell me you're taking the easy way out, here."

Dean slapped his hand off of his shirt. "No. But in case you hadn't noticed, we're not exactly taking a vacation, here."

"Oh, I noticed." Percy said. "I also noticed he'd promised someone he was gonna buy the van. So it stands to reason he's gonna wanna show that sexy black thing off."

"Okay, one, never call my car sexy. And B, how much stalking do you even do?"

Percy grinned impishly, and Dean knew he was in for a day of up-to-something.

"Fifteen buck's says John's got a girllll-frieennnd!" Percy sang.

"That's my mom!"

A/N: So. 3666 words. Um. I mean, I don't feel like this reveal was particularly surprising to, well, anyone, considering I kept getting reviews saying things along the lines of "OMGGGGGGG I HOPE PERCY AND SAM GET BACK TOGETHER AND IT'S ABSOLUTELY NO SURPRISE WHATSOEVER THAT CHASE IS PERCY" but ya know what? As politely as possible, i'd like to point out that if I was REALLY trying to hide Percy's identity, i'd have not inserted the BlackJack cameo.

Besides, I'll admit it here and now that the only reason i'm having percy hide is a) plausible personal trauma and b) i really love sitting back to watch the fireworks when two people get mad at each other.

So yeah.

And i know that i keep jumping all over the place, and the last chapter was kinda unexplained, but trust me. I'm a master procrastinator. I'll get all this shit explained later, and y'all are gonna be like "Whoooooaaaaaa. (insert gender here) was right all along!"

Who do you guys even picture me as? It's probs female, right? Cuz of the 'darling' in front of the 'impi.' Hmmmm...
Dude. I reallly really really wanna be cheekboney. please say you think i'm cheekboney.

Off-topic. Right.

Love you all!