A/N: AAAAAHHH IT'S BEEN A WHOLE YEAR I FEEL PROUD OF MYSELF. Granted, we're only at chapter...thirteen...but hush! We've made it this far, we'll go father yet!
This is my baby and I won't delete this. Okay, so, about the name change... Some unsavoury people got wind of my account and honestly I was just not prepared for that so
yeah
but it's still the same me! My AO3 has changed to the same thing, so don't worry. Y'know how to find me.
Dean shot up with a start, eyes opening like he'd been sleeping the whole time.
Chase—Percy was zonked out on the bed next to him. His mouth was moving in his sleep, and occasionally he'd say a word loud enough for Dean to hear.
"Mary still died, didn't she?" Dean muttered, mostly to himself. "My mother burned." He buried his head in his hands, feeling thoroughly useless, berating himself for his failure.
"Don't be too hard on yourself." A voice said. "You couldn't have stopped it."
Dean looked up slowly, and saw Castiel standing at the foot of his bed, looking as grave as ever.
Wait...he couldn't have stopped it? What the hell had the angel been telling him to do, then?
"What?" He asked, incredulous and a note too high.
"Destiny can't be changed, Dean." Castiel said. "All roads lead to the same destination."
"Then why'd you send me back?" Dean demanded.
"Not a clue. Wanna explore the maze?" Percy muttered, drooling into his pillow.
Dean started, not expecting to hear Percy of all people. But then he let out a snore, and Dean rolled his eyes. He didn't think Percy was even aware, lost in whatever dream world he was in, apparently in a labyrinth of sorts.
The angel side-eyed Percy, almost dismissively. "For the truth." He said. "But...he's changed things, somehow."
"Percy?" Dean asked. "He...he caused Mary to make the deal, didn't he? When he killed John. It's his fault!" He could feel the edges of hysteria creeping up on him.
But Castiel shook his head, and Dean's blood ran cold. "It would have happened anyways, half-blood or no. He just changed the situation."
Half-blood.
God, it seemed that an onion had less layers than this guy. It kept making him harder and harder to trust, never mind the fact that all he'd tried to do so far was help.
"This is...this is ridiculous, you know that?"
"She was one of the Hunters of Artemis." Percy said. Dean tried to ignore him.
Castiel, however, looked interested by what Percy had just muttered, muttering it again like he was specifically remembering that statement so he could look into it later. Maybe he was. Angels were fucking weird.
"Wait, where's Sam?" Dean asked.
"I love you, Sam." Percy said. He was partially muffled, what with his face being more than half smothered in pillow, but Dean still heard it well enough.
And wow, that was really something he didn't want to approach with a twenty-foot stick. Um.
"Dean." Castiel said, catching the hunter's attention. "Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, and we're not sure where it leads. So stop it. Or we will."
"Well, that's some bullshit." Percy said, sounding slightly clearer than before.
Dean didn't even look at him, still convinced that he was sleep-talking, and was startled when he heard the blankets rustling.
By the time he looked back to where Castiel had been, the angel was gone, and in his place, an innocent little note reading 425 Waterman sat on the crusty carpet.
Percy picked it up, and handed it to Dean for inspection.
"I'm sorry, Dean." He said, sounding sincere.
"For what?" Dean asked, almost sarcastically. "The angel said she would have died anyways. Nothing we could've done."
Percy shook his head. "We didn't know enough. I just...I should have kept a better eye on John."
"Don't bother with that." Dean grumbled. "There's no knowing how long he was possessed."
Eventually Percy sighed. "We need to find Sam."
.:~*~:.
The drive to 425 Waterman was painfully short. Neither Percy nor Dean looked at each other, and Dean could have practically cut the tension in the air with a knife.
Percy practically dove out of the car the moment they rolled up to the building, which was an abandoned, dirty building.
The cliché was practically oozing down the sidewalk.
Percy made for the door, but something caught at Dean's "Hunter Senses," and he stopped the other, warily.
Percy rolled his eyes. "Dean, Sam's here."
Dean looked at him sharply. "First of all, Chase," and Percy's face dropped at the reminder. "You really can't go barging in there looking like...that."
Percy muttered something sarcastic, but his features blurred nonetheless.
"And secondly," Dean continued. "Something's going on."
"Oh." Percy said. "Like, going on?" He tried for an eyebrow waggle, but it looked more like a caterpillar had a seizure on his face. But Dean saw the way his smile cracked at the thought, and whatever he was going to say next dried up in his throat.
So, instead of saying anything, he turned and walked to the side of the building, trying to keep in the shadows and not tip off anyone that he was there.
He spotted a window, and peeking in, hoping he wouldn't be too visible. He felt Pery creep up next to him, but didn't divert his attention from the window, watching the scene unfold.
Sam was inside, the angel hadn't been lying. But Dean found it hard to be relieved by this when Sam was essentially Spanish-Inquisitioning some dude tied up in a chair.
A brown haired woman was standing next to him, looking far too smug.
Percy wrinkled his nose. "One of them's a demon. Maybe both."
"What are you, a monster radar?" Dean asked, not really knowing what else to say.
"No." Percy groused. "But angels feel like holy water, and demons are stink like befoulment. It's annoying."
"Befoulment?" Dean asked. "When were you born, the 1690s?"
Percy just peered back into the window, eyes wide.
Dean looked around wildly for a moment, still not seeing everything perfectly, until he noticed.
Sam was force-exorcizing the demon out, black smoke coalescing on the floor and burning from the inside out.
"Damn." Percy whispered. "Is that what you two do for shits now?"
"No." Dean said, turning away from the window. "Definitely not."
Percy caught up with him easily, following Dean to the crumbly-looking door. "So what, you're gonna yell at him? 'Bad Sammy, we don't play with demons!'" He mocked.
Dean busted open the door as the brown-haired chick was picking up the unconscious dude.
"What the hell, Sam?"
.:~*~:.
Chase stood behind Dean, looking a strange combination of indifferent and uncomfortable. He kept his eyes fixed on Ruby, though, not ever actually looking at Sam.
This again.
Dean advanced on him, not exactly giving Sam much room to talk his way out of the situation.
"Dean, wait-"
Dean stopped moving and raised an eyebrow. "You gonna tell me to hear you out? What the hell is this, Sam?"
Chase eyed Ruby suspiciously, not looking at the guy he was taking care of. It was almost like he knew...but that would have been impossible, right? Chase would have no frame of reference for her.
"Ruby's helping me-" Sam started.
Dean cut him off with something that sounded like a screech. "Ruby? Sam, what in the actual hell?"
Sam watched as Ruby edged her way towards the door, man slung over her shoulders. Chase stopped her quickly.
"Don't leave." He warned.
"Sure. I've got no problem letting this man die." She made to move as if she was about to drop him.
Chase looked helplessly at Dean, who grit his teeth. "Fine, whatever."
"You know what?" Chase offered, as Ruby slipped out the door. He made several aborted gestures. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna follow her there and make sure she doesn't get him possessed again. Catch up with you later."
Dean looked less than thrilled with Chase making his exit, not as much as he would have been yesterday.
Sam wondered what had happened overnight to cause that.
Dean didn't say anything for several moments, instead staring at Sam like there was a bug on his face.
"Dude, what?" Sam asked, starting to feel uncomfortable.
Dean sighed. "Why are you doing this?" He rubbed at his face.
"To save lives." Sam tried to explain. "I can kill the demons, get rid of them permanently, but I can leave their hosts alive!"
"Sam, they're demons." Dean said, like that explained everything.
It really didn't. "So?"
"They're not exactly known for being gentle, Sam! You leave the host alive, great! They'll be traumatized and braindead, or permanently crippled. You can't just bounce back from that!"
Sam sighed. He really was helping, he was sure of that. He just wanted to make Dean see it too. For once, he wanted his brother to have faith in him.
"Would death really be better for them?" Sam asked.
He tried not to think about the Witnesses.
"You know what? Fine." Dean said. For a split second, Sam thought he was actually conceding, but he knew his brother better than that. "But Ruby, she's a demon. Trusting her's gonna get you stabbed in the back." Dean turned around and walked back out of the room, leaving Sam standing alone.
He wasn't supposed to be used to that.
Sam stood still for a few minutes, until he heard the engine of the Impala start up again. Was Dean seriously leaving him behind?
He rushed outside, only to see the taillights of the car as it moved off, and Chase leaning against a wall watching it go.
"I thought you...were with Ruby?" He questioned.
Chase turned his head slowly to look at Sam. "She disappeared two blocks down. I had to call 911 for the guy. Whoever he is, though, he's taken care of."
If Sam were being honest with himself, he would have admitted that he really hadn't expected too much else from the demon. Sam knew she wasn't entirely trustworthy.
Just like he knew why Dean was upset, but he just wanted to help people.
Chase was staring back out at the road again, looking completely aloof.
"I just...It's helping! Less people are dying..." Sam didn't know why he suddenly felt the need to explain himself.
Chase closed his eyes. "I know."
Sam floundered. "I just...I hate that my brother barely trusts me anymore."
"To be fair, you're hanging out with a demon." Chase said, far too reasonably.
Sam wasn't sure how Chase wanted him to answer that.
Sighing, Chase peeled himself on the wall. "You coming, Sam?" He asked, like he actually wanted Sam with him.
When Sam stood still, staring slightly dumb, Chase rolled his eyes. "It's gonna get cold soon, which is basically my least favorite temperature. Besides, I don't think your brother's coming back for us any time soon."
Chase started walking, slow enough that Sam had no problem keeping up with him.
"It's the Apocalypse." Sam opened with, trying to think of a way to explain that he didn't want to be doing that, that he wouldn't have anytime else. He didn't know why, but he needed someone to understand him, to hear him out. Moreso now that his brother seemed keen on leaving him behind.
Chase seemed to understand what he was getting at. "I know."
"Do you?" Sam asked.
"I was part of a war too, Sam." Chase wouldn't look at him.
Sam didn't say anything. The way Chase talked, the tone of his voice –it sounded like he'd been in something big. But he'd have heard of it, right? Hunters would have noticed.
"When?" Sam asked. "Why?"
"Why do you think wars start, Sammy? Somebody wanted something better, and convinced enough people to agree." Chase spun around so he was walking backwards, facing Sam, apparently not worried that he might run into something. "And anyways, it was a long time ago. None of it matters anymore."
That sounded depressing to Sam. "You really think-"
Chase was quick to cut him off. "Sam, I know. They're all either dead or moved on. Please, just forget about it." Despite his denial, though, he remained backwards, looking Sam square in the eye.
Sam was the first to look away. He didn't say anything, either, wondering instead about what war Chase could have been talking about, running over every major event he could think of.
Eventually Chase turned around. His walk turned into more of a trudge. Everything about his posture screamed 'downcast,' and Sam wanted to ask him what was wrong, and comfort him.
"I have to look after you, Sam." Chase said at last. "You and your brother."
Sam hadn't been expecting him to speak, and nearly tripped over a stick in the sidewalk.
"And that means I can't do what I need to do until your Apocalypse is over. All I can do is pray to the gods that our lines will cross and you'll be able to help me." Chase sounded so bitter. "Winchesters."
Sam felt hurt at the amount of malice in his voice. "Why wouldn't we help you? Hell, why do you need to watch us anyways? Why can't you just go off on your own way and leave us to ourselves?"
"Don't you know how much I want to?" Chase sounded darker now, so much different than the one who had essentially stumbled into Bobby's house. "I want to just leave you both behind, you and your demon issues and your fucking deals and every other mess you've made since! But I'm stuck here!" Chase shouted. "I'm stuck here because of some prophecy made by one of my best friends, and she's the fucking Oracle so there go my chances of ignoring that!"
"But sulphur steals." Sam remembered. "A prophecy, right?" Chase turned dark eyes on him, like he hadn't expected him to remember that.
Things started to fall into place for Sam. The reason Chase was so ready to go tearing off, the reason he was interacting with the Winchesters in the first place.
"The demons took something, didn't they? Something important?"
"They took Annabeth. And I can't get her until your Apocalypse is 'crisis-averted' or whatever." Chase started walking faster, and Sam could see the motel lights not too far off. Suddenly, their conversation was on a timer.
Something about the name Annabeth stuck with him, though. Sam wracked his brain, trying to figure out why it was so familiar.
Hadn't Percy talked about her before?
If they had both known her...and Chase was willing to do so much for her...Chase had to have known Percy, right? There was no other way around it.
"I want to help you." Sam decided. "I can get rid of the demons."
Chase gave him a side-eye that was practically dripping in derision. "Yeah, through demon powers. Use your logic, Sammy."
"That's the second time you've called me that." Sam pointed out. It hadn't exactly been annoying him, per say, not like when his brother did that. He just didn't understand why Chase of all people would call him Sammy. It implied a level of familiarity, and Sam had only known him for what, three days?
"It was a mistake, Sam." Chase said with an air of finality.
"Seriously, Chase?" Sam was suddenly, irrationally angry at the other man. "Why can't you own up to anything?"
"Fuck you, Sam. I want nothing to do with you. You don't need to know anything."
Well that was sudden. Where was all of the hostility coming from?
"You're supervising us, Chase, it'd be nice to know something about you!" Sam said, gesturing wildly even though Chase, walking ahead of him, couldn't see it.
"You wanna know something? Fine!" Chase shouted, spinning around so he was face-to-face with Sam, way too close. "I have watched too many people die next to me because of some stupid prophecy that wasn't even about me, in the end! So many damn campers, just because someone wanted a family! And on top of that, there was another war after that! My fucking nosebleed set off another giant attack, and we lost so many goddamn more after that, so goddamn many. And we're about to lose fucking more because I can't help anyone!" Chase wound himself up.
Sam tried to cut in, but apparently Chase wasn't finished, not by a long shot.
"If there's anything I'm good at, it's war. And it really sucks, it does. But seeing someone throw everything away for a flimsy excuse like that? Because you're 'helping out'? Honestly, it's a big fucking insult. You're just tossing out, what, decades of hunter training? Plus another with the same skills as you, if not more 'cuz he didn't go swanning off to college for years! And me! Sam, you have me! Stop fucking acting like you're the only one who can solve this fucking apocalypse! And leave that gods-damned demon alone!
And suddenly they were at the motel. Sam had only just noticed, but apparently Chase had been more aware than he was, because the moment he finished yelling, he stormed off into the room, slamming the door behind him.
Sam looked around for the Impala, but it was nowhere to be seen. Dean was still out.
"Damn it." Sam muttered. He looked helplessly at the door for a moment, then turned around and walked the complete opposite direction.
He didn't have any real destination, okay with just wandering. While he walked, though, he kept his mind on Chase.
How had he known about college? It would have made sense had Percy talked to Chase about him…But Percy had never mentioned a Chase. Percy, who was the most open person he'd known. Who'd told him everything, even the bits about his stepfather.
Chase seemed to know way too much, and it made Sam uncomfortable.
And another thing, his relationship with Dean… Something had definitely changed between him and Dean overnight….they seemed less against each other. And maybe it was because of how they'd found Sam out, maybe it was that Dean had something other to fight against, something more important, but still.
And the way Chase seemed insistent upon watching after them….well, if felt patronizing, for one.
And that Chase couldn't be bothered to come up with an actual excuse, something worth more than just "The Oracle told me, and well, duh, I'm obviously powerless to fight against fate's designs." It just…felt cheap.
Sam saw how much he wanted to leave, and while it hurt, while he didn't understand what he and his brother had done to warrant such behavior, he could kind of….almost understand it. He knew the feeling of being useless, knew how much strain it caused and just….he felt bad.
He was going to help Chase, he decided, however he could.
The only problem with that, was, of course, was that Chase wasn't going to let him close.
.:~*~:.
Percy couldn't believe it, but there he was, sulking in the motel room like a three-year-old.
He'd been in there a long time, almost hoping Sam would walk in behind him and he could start another fight. He wanted to.
It wasn't fair of him, though. To just tear into someone, anyone, out of the blue like that. No matter how much he didn't like their actions, it wasn't fair of him to do that.
It wasn't like him, either. What had happened to his "loyalty unto death?" He wasn't the kind of person to take down others, never had been.
The thought made him miserable, which in turn made him angry again. Maybe it was a leftover effect from the demon?
Suddenly, Percy regretted everything he'd said to Sam just then. Maybe ever. He kept hoping that at any second, Sam would come through the door. He could apologize, and reveal himself, and….
Percy shook his head. His thoughts were taking a dangerous track, loopy and kind of all over the place.
What was wrong with him?
Percy sat down on the bed he'd woken up in, barely a few hours earlier. Was it really still the early morning? It had been dark out, easy to forget that it was the middle of the night. And Sam was still out? Now Percy felt like a piece of shit on his rollercoaster of emotions.
"What the hell was that demon up to, anyways?" He wondered aloud. "And why the hell does she need Sam?"
The door, at last, opened and closed, and it took most of Percy's will to not look up at whoever it was. Instead, he turned away from the door and took his pen out of his pocket, looking at all the bite marks on the cap. Okay, so maybe he had a habit.
"Chase." A voice said.
Sam, then.
"Look, I'm sorry." Percy tossed out quickly. "I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. I guess I was still messed up from being close to the demon. They always….mess with me."
"No, I…I get you." Sam said. Percy still wasn't looking at him, but he heard the other bed creak, so he assumed Sam was sitting down as well. "You don't have to apologize."
Percy hung his head. This was exactly like Sam. It was refreshing, in a sense, to see that some things never changed. "I-"
Sam started speaking at the same time, though, so Percy just shut up and listened. "And you were right, you know. About my…pushing everybody away. And really….I don't mean to do that. But I just….I hate to admit it, but I don't really know how to deal with an Apocalypse."
"Surprise, surprise." Percy commented. "Most people don't, you know."
Percy wished he was looking at Sam right then, so he was able to see the face he made. Nevertheless, he could imagine it well enough. A wry sort of reluctant smile. Small.
"You do, don't you?"
Percy sighed. "I'm a special case."
"Clearly." There was a tentative sort of sarcasm there, as if Sam wasn't quite sure he was allowed to joke with Percy. Chase, to him.
Percy sat silent for several moments, stretching out for far longer than it seemed, before at last he spoke up. "Sam…..what were you doing with the demon, anyways?"
Sam huffed out air through his nose. "She was helping me control my…gifts." He sounded undeniably bitter.
"Gifts?" Percy questioned.
"Well, Dean saw, I don't know if you did, but…..I was able to exorcize a demon, and kill it. Permanently. Without hurting the host." Sam explained.
"Oh." Percy said. Honestly, it sounded like something Hecate's kids could do. Maybe Nico, too.
Sam was starting to sound like he was having a fit over there, all spasmodic, so before he could work himself up with panic anymore, Percy said, "I have gifts too."
It wasn't….exactly how he'd put it, with the context making them sound demon-given, but it seemed to go a long way towards making Sam feel better.
Then the curiosity kicked in, and Sam was asking, "Like what?"
Percy laughed quietly to himself. Some things would never change. "It's more water-based. Like, heavily so. But I can heal from water, control it, and in extreme cases -I'm talking Mt. St. Helens here -summon it. But that is a party I really don't wanna go back to."
He finally turned around, wanting to see Sam's face.
Sam was sitting on the bed, looking rather slack-jawed. "You did Mt. St. Helens? It went off way too early! I remember that, Dad was all over it for ages trying to figure out what'd happened!"
"Yeah…." Percy said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that was definitely not fun, though."
"But you….you can't have been older than seventeen when it happened!"
"Was fifteen, actually." Percy said. "Took me several weeks to completely recover. I think."
Sam winced in sympathy and Percy wanted to laugh at him.
"It's okay." Percy assured him. "I'm clearly fine now, aren't I?"
Sam nodded thoughtfully, looking him over in a way that made him feel uncomfortable.
Percy shifted awkwardly.
"Hey, can I see your...pen?" Sam asked.
Percy stared at him. He'd forgotten he'd had it, so used to having it in his hands that he hadn't even noticed anymore.
"No, not like that!" Sam rushed to explain, misinterpreting Percy's reaction. "I just thought that your sword was interesting!"
Percy busted out laughing. Sam had thought he'd been innuendo-ed? "Sure, Sam." He managed. 'You can touch my pen."
Sam flushed red, clearly embarrassed, but nevertheless Percy tossed it at him.
He fumbled with it a little bit, and then held it pinched between two fingers, making a face at the bite marks on the end.
"Sorry." Percy shrugged. "Trust me in that I didn't know it could write until recently. It'd be a lot worse if I'd known earlier."
"Huh." Sam commented. He picked at the cap hesitantly. "So...just take this off? Won't it stab my face?"
"You'd think, yeah." Percy nodded. "But it seems to have a way of missing faces."
Nevertheless Sam uncapped it warily, almost reverently, looking like he'd rather someone else was doing it for him.
The sword sprung out, shiny and new-looking as ever, as though years of use and hundreds of disuse hadn't affected it in the slightest.
"Whoa." Sam breathed out.
Percy grinned, cheesy and proud. "Oh, yeah. It's called Riptide, by the way."
Sam glanced at him, wide-eyed, then went back to inspecting the sword. "Have you even used this? It's in really great shape."
Percy shrugged. "That's the power of magical, thousands-of-years-old swords for you. Pretty convenient, isn't it?"
Sam gaped. "Damn, Chase, where the hell did you get this? Most people don't just have these."
"And that's a story for another time." Percy said, smiling.
It took him a moment to notice the problem. He wasn't supposed to be enjoying himself. He wasn't supposed to be sitting pretty with Sam while the end of the world went on. He was supposed to be taking care of things, not having a good time.
Damn it, he wasn't supposed to still want to be near Sam. Not anymore.
Percy shook his head, annoyed with himself.
He was going to enjoy himself for at least one night, no matter what. Then he could get out of everyone's hair.
….Eventually.
Sam seemed to catch on to his sudden sinking emotions. "Chase? You good? I can give your sword back, if you want..."
Percy waved him off. "Nah, you have your fun." A thought struck him. "Actually, you any good with swords? You toss me something, I'll take you on. Winner takes Riptide." Percy felt a little bad for betting with his best sword, but he was sure in his abilities. Sam might have had a broader education, but Percy...he'd been trained by the best swordsman in three hundred years.
And then (on a rather large technicality) beat him.
He wouldn't lose to Sam.
Sam shook his head. "We don't exactly have any swords. We might've, if they could turn into pens like yours, but as it is they're too bulky."
"Fine." Percy conceded. "But the second you get your hands on one...you versus me."
Sam smiled, honest and bright. "Deal." He started patting about on the bedsheets for something, squinting and crinkling his nose.
Percy pulled the cap out of his pocket. "Looking for this?"
Sam literally did a double-take, eyes widening in surprise when he saw Percy holding it up with a smug grin on his face, before reaching for it.
Percy tossed it at him and accidentally hit him in the eye. He froze, sure he'd overstepped something, when Sam grinned and tossed the whole pen back (not pointy, thank the gods), hitting Percy squarely in the forehead.
Percy sneezed. "Damn it, Sam, you can't just do that to a person!" He pretended to complain, before rifling through his pockets for something to toss back.
The best he could come up with was a paperclip.
Sam looked at it curiously. "Does that turn into a bow, or something?"
Percy gave him a deadpan look. "No. I use it as ammo against the Party Ponies."
"What're those?" Sam asked.
"They're, um..." Percy launched himself into an extremely long-winded explanation about the crazy centaurs, and how exactly they ran into each other, which in turn led to Percy explaining the Princess Andromeda (albeit heavily censored) and just the whole Sea of Monsters debacle.
It was strange, Percy mused, to be having this conversation with Sam at long last, something he'd imagined hundreds of times. Finally coming clean.
It felt different than he'd expected, Percy mused. Maybe because he wasn't Percy, but Chase.
Sam, for his part, looked totally enthralled by Percy's stories, eagerly listening. He looked almost like a child honestly, absorbing everything that Percy said as if it were gospel truth.
Percy paused. "You know what, Sam? I'll just start from the beginning. It'll make more sense that way." He didn't think it was a good idea, not even remotely, but honestly, he just wanted to get it out there. He wanted to actually talk to someone about everything. He couldn't talk to his mom, or Paul, or any of his numerous friends. They'd worry about him. He didn't want that.
He didn't want anyone to worry about him anymore. He was sick of it. Sam, though? Sam would think it was cool. Sam would think it was impressive. Sam would even understand, because Sam knew monsters better than any of the sheltered camp kids with their once-a-year quests.
And Sam wouldn't worry because Sam...wouldn't care. Really, it was all wins.
Percy tried to believe that, anyways.
Sam nodded. "Still, even hearing all that...Chase, that's amazing. And you were so much younger!"
Percy unconsciously flinched at Sam using the name Chase so happily, the way he'd accepted it. He prayed to the gods that Sam didn't notice.
Percy took a deep breath. "Listen, I didn't want to be a half-blood..."
The hours started to fly by after that, the sun rising and getting high in the sky while Percy went over everything that had happened since he was twelve, all the way up to defeating Gaia.
It was immensely relieving, he decided, to be able to talk about all that shit, all those heavy weights that had kept him down over the years, those horrifying bits that had given him nightmares to that day (though the current ones were new, filled with demons and Sam and fire). He was glad that he was able to talk about it, if not freely then at all, at long last spitting out the truth to the man he loved.
And that was it, wasn't it? He still loved Sam. He wasn't supposed to, he was supposed to be miles upon miles away from the both of them, Sam and Dean and hunting monsters.
Hunting demons.
And it was his fault, his fault he'd let that demon, Azazel, talk him into dying and running away and hiding and messing every perfect thing up. What he wouldn't give to take it all back, to undo it all and go back to that stupid domestic bliss.
He wanted nothing more than to apologize endlessly to Sam, to reveal everything and make it all better, and just go back to the way things were, back to the arguments about his health and his obsession with blue and making out and cheesy movies that were as cliché as the rest of them.
And sometimes, now, on days kind of like this, Percy just felt like calling it quits, giving up completely, giving up on Annabeth and letting somebody else save her, and he could just curl into a ball and hide from the rest of the world.
But no. He opened up, he actually talked for once. He told Sam absolutely everything, and was determined not to regret it.
He told Sam about the River Styx, how harrowing it was, how he'd nearly been killed but Annabeth had taken the poisoned dagger for him, how he'd taken on a Titan and won, how he'd jumped into Tartarus to save her.
Sam made all the right faces at the right moments. He looked like he actually cared, which was ridiculous, considering that Chase was an asshole stranger that should have meant nothing to him.
At some point, and Percy really didn't know when, he'd crawled onto the other bed and was right up next to Sam, talking about all the things he'd done and occasionally bumping him with his elbows.
Sam didn't seem to mind.
"You should be considering yourself lucky that you never met Coach Hedge. Honestly. He hangs around Jason and Piper more, but I've run into him enough that I never want to again."
Sam laughed. "Still, I could never imagine all the things you've done. You have a pet hellhound!"
Chase shook his head. "It's a matter of worlds, Sam. My monsters were softer than yours, that's all."
Sam looked doubtful. "I...don't think so, Chase. You had to do all that as a teenager. Hell, my dad kept me out of the loop for years, and even after that, I was babied on hunts. I know you don't like it, but we may well need you after all." He squinted at Percy's face, suddenly, like it'd been covered in a rainbow mess courtesy of the Stolls.
Percy looked away from Sam, partially from the weird look, but also out of embarrassment. He couldn't let it happen, not again. Hell, he'd barely stand for them being friends.
He. Was. Going. To. Leave.
Somehow, that was getting harder and harder to remind himself of.
Damnit.
Dean slammed open the door, surprising them both. Percy'd just kind of...forgotten he was out.
Oh. While he'd been sitting there having a good time with Sam, he'd completely forgotten that Dean would still be simmering in his anger of Sam's betrayal.
Percy jumped off of Sam's bed, ready and willing to explain himself, but Dean just stormed past him, starting to shove everything in a bag and ignoring the two of them.
"Dean, what's going on?" Sam asked, approaching him with less caution than Percy had.
Dean didn't say anything, instead continuing to shove clothes into his bag, with more ferocity than before.
"Are you leaving?" Sam asked.
"You don't need me anymore." Dean said. "You and Ruby can go hunt demons. Chase, you can cheerlead for them."
"Wha-?" Percy floundered. "Seriously? What the hell happened to stubborn-ass Winchesters?"
Dean pointed at Sam, standing up straight, abandoning his clothes alltogether. "That." He bit out. "That happened."
"Dean, just chill out for a second!" Percy argued. "What is your deal?"
Dean gave him the most angry, deadpan look. "Four months in hell. While Sammy over there got down with the demons."
Sam looked hurt by the accusation, and Percy didn't know which side to defend. He didn't know how to diffuse the situation.
"I'm trying to save people! The hosts stay alive! Why can't you see that?" Sam pleaded.
Dean's face just shut down. "Oh yeah? That how she tricked you into using your powers? Huh, Sam?"
"Look, we don't have many other options here!" Sam said.
Percy stepped in. "I...I think Sam's right. But we can stop this from getting out of hand!"
Dean looked at him. "Oh, get over yourself, Chase. This...this isn't natural. It's already out of hand."
"So what, you're gonna let people die?" Sam argued.
"If it means keeping you on the right track, then yes, Sam!"
Sam took a step back, not expecting the honesty.
"Say we get rid of Ruby. What then?" He asked softly. To Percy, it didn't sound like he was arguing anymore. Just trying to figure out what next.
Dean sighed. "I don't know, Sam. We'll get there eventually. But for now, let's just focus on getting rid of the demon."
Sam looked relieved that his brother wasn't shouting at him anymore.
"Wait..." Percy said. "What does she do? Other than play cheerleader?"
Sam looked like he'd been hoping Chase wouldn't ask.
Dean stared at Sam intensely, as if he could just summon the answers straight out of his skull and display them in the air.
Sam bit his lip, staring at the ground. When he finally spoke, it looked like it physically hurt him to say.
"She's my...supplier."