Disclaimer:
I don't own any of these characters, they belong to Rick Riordan and Erik Kripke/the CW. I do, however, own the plot line of this particular fic, with inspiration taken from a semi-popular trope where Percy grew up with the Winchesters. The idea for this fic (Percy knowing/being close to the Winchesters) was all I intended to take, and any resemblance to other fics is entirely accidental. I have not noted any quotes from either PJO or Supernatural as I felt this would disrupt the flow of writing, however they are present throughout my writing and I take no credit for them.
I have changed the birthdays of both Sam and Dean to make them closer to Percy's age, this was done purely in the name of my plotline.
Ch1
John Winchester stared at Sally Jackson incredulously.
The rowdy pub they were seated in covered John's exclamation of surprise and disbelief, and no one turned to spare them a second look, let alone a first glance. The table between them was covered in the sticky remains of a previous patrons drink, and Sally leant across it to repeat her plea.
"His father isn't in the picture, and I don't want Gabriel to be his only impression of what a man should be. Please, John. "
"Sally, I have my hands full with my two boys as it is, and you want me to…what? Look after yours for a week every month? It's ludicrous." John leaned back in his seat.
"Percy needs training. He needs the kind of training you can't get through typical self defence lessons here in the city." John started shaking his head. "Please, I can't tell you why but you were in the marines, and both of your boys hold themselves just like you do." Hints of desperation danced in her eyes and Poseidon's warnings rang in her ears. This was her last chance, if John didn't agree to this then her son might not live to see his seventh birthday. "Please, I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important. Just work him into whatever you have your boys doing."
John Winchester stared across at his cousin. Sally Jackson's Sweet On America uniform was rumpled, stress lines had aged her face, and her eyebrows seemed to be continuously furrowed in stress or anxiety. Maybe a potent mix of both. She was clearly in need of a break, which made sense considering she had to deal with that dick of a husband along with a kid who couldn't sit still. He knew her worries well, considering he had them himself. He could see the soft touches Mary had left on the boys fading more and more each year. Sighing, he considered his options. Dean was 16, and not interested in anyone or anything except for Sam, sex, and hunting. Sam was 12, and every other night ended with an argument, each bigger than the last. Perhaps adding another boy to the mix would calm things down, reduce the codependency he could see building between his boys and add a buffer between himself and Sam. On the other hand, it could end in the blow out to end all blow outs.
He considered the tired woman sitting in front of him. Sally had always supported him as best she could, even when her uncle was sick and he did his best to drop off the map entirely. She'd always given everything for family. Maybe it was time family gave her something back, after all, he owed her. No one else had tracked him down after Mary had…died.
"I'll take him. I'll train him, but I won't go easy on him and I can't guarantee the boys will react well either." John sighed again, hoping he wouldn't regret it.
The way Sally Jackson nearly folded in half from relief told him that, if nothing else, he was making a difference to her. That would have to be enough.
The bus rattled and rumbled around Percy as it started pulling towards the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Why adults seemed to think it was a good idea to send kids to art museums was beyond him, but the Latin teacher Mr. Brunner was leading this field trip so hope wasn't completely lost. He tried to refrain from shifting in his seat, ADHD and sore muscles didn't mix well. He had just gotten back home after a week spent with the Winchesters. Sparring with Sam and Dean was always fun until he was losing, and the bruises colouring his arms and ribs were proof that he had definitely lost this time around.
"Come on Percy! You're better than this!" He looked up at Dean who was smirking down at him. A groan escaped him as he pushed himself up from when he'd been thrown. Even Sam was smiling cheekily at him from the sidelines.
"Oh really? Well, that clears everything right up. Let me reboot and I'll get right to kicking your ass." Percy couldn't help the sarcasm that spewed from his lips, although the way Dean's lips twitched in smug anticipation had him bracing for another beating.
"Enough. Again." John Winchester barked from the sidelines, interrupting what was sure to be a smartass reply from Dean. Percy rolled his eyes once he was sure John wouldn't see and prepared himself to be pinned again.
Grover Underwood, his closest friend, shifted in his seat next to him as Nancy Bobofit threw yet another piece of her sandwich at him. Peanut butter and ketchup matted the back of his hair as he ducked his head in a futile attempt to avoid the latest projectile. Percy shifted uncomfortably once again, although this time was in sympathy for his friend.
"Just say the word man, I'll get up and make her stop." he muttered, trying to ignore the anger curling like a fist in his gut. When the next piece of bread sailed towards them, Percy stopped waiting for an answer and stood up, ready to do something, anything, fight- and was unceremoniously yanked back down into his seat by Grover.
"You're already on probation Percy! I don't want you to get expelled because of me."
Percy grit his teeth. With ADHD and dyslexia his teachers already hated him. Add into the equation the fact that he was gone for one week every month and that strange things always seemed to happen around him, it was a miracle he hadn't been expelled already. Six schools in six years proved that it was bound to happen sooner or later.
The bus came to a stop and the metal contraption shuddered around them as if passing gas. The juvenile delinquents of Yancy Academy rushed to escape, Bobofit dumping what was left of her lunch in Grover's lap as she passed. This time, it was Grover's crutches that held him back in his seat, preventing him from taking a swing at her. John's voice echoed in his head, I don't care if they insult your intelligence, or your friends, or your family. Don't. Draw. Attention. He might not live with the Winchesters but John had made it clear that he was to live up to their standards no matter where he was. Percy clenched his jaw and let out a sharp exhale, his self control had always been non-existent when it came to what little friends and family he had. If trouble didn't occur on this field trip, he'd eat Grover's hat.
Percy's knowledge of Greek mythology was probably better than the average 12 year old's, what with his mum's obsession -who calls their son Perseus, seriously!?- and Sam Winchester's thorough drilling on the subject. His mother was unaware of what she had signed him up for when she gave him over to John Winchester for training. Once Percy had hit 10 years old, John had started taking him on hunts, and his sons had made sure Percy was prepared for every aspect of the hunt, research included.
That did not mean he was an expert on the subject, and so when Mr. Brunner was lecturing on one of the steles displayed in the museum he tried his best to pay attention. Bobofit's incessant snickering behind him was distracting, and he'd promised both his mother and Sam and Dean that he would try and make it through the year without being expelled. That required passing his exams, which meant listening to this lecture. When her snickering reached a new height of frustrating, he spun around and made direct eye contact with her. "Would you just shut up?" The hissed question silenced the whole class, including Mr. Brunner. Percy's face burned with a cocktail of anger and embarrassment. Mr. Brunner's piercing eyes drilled into him relentlessly. He managed to stutter his way through the questions thrown his way, and wasn't surprised that when it came for lunch he was told to remain behind.
Percy cast his eyes around the room, looking at anything other than Mr. Brunner as the other students escaped to lunch. He didn't care about what most of his teachers thought about him, they didn't know anything about him or his situation, but Brunner had this way of making it seem like he really cared about Percy and his schooling. He didn't care that Percy missed weeks of school, he just expected that Percy would make up the work. Percy had a sneaking feeling that this was going to feel like a lecture from Uncle John, but with less...military.
"Percy," Mr. Brunner began, "it's important that you pay attention. This information could save your life one day."
Yeah, no kidding, was Percy's first thought, quickly followed by what does he know? Panic coursed through him at the thought. Mr. Brunner was human, right? Percy would have noticed if he wasn't.
"Think Percy, why does this matter in real life?" The level stare being directed at Percy was constant and unwavering as his mind raced, searching for an appropriate response. He knew you couldn't go around telling Latin teachers things like,
"Well sir, supernatural creatures routinely try to eat people, and I wouldn't be surprised if Greek monsters were still running around today doing just that," so he remained quiet, giving a non-committal shrug and tried to ignore the silent disappointment that came from Mr. Brunner at his lack of response.
Grover was waiting for him outside the museum, leaning on his crutches with his rasta cap askew when Percy emerged, shoulders slumped. He raised an eyebrow in question at the concerned look on Percy's face.
"It's just Brunner, man." came Percy's response to the unasked question. They moved to sit by the fountain and eat their lunch, keeping a wary eye out for Nancy on the off chance that she would return to terrorise them.
"He just expects so much from me," Percy continued, "he doesn't expect me to be as good as everyone else, he expects me to be better despite the ADHD and dyslexia, not to mention the missed school."
Grover hummed in quiet acknowledgement but didn't offer any response. Percy responded like this every time Brunner critiqued his Latin, or his studying, or anything Percy did in general. He didn't care when it came to his other teachers, but a lecture from Mr. Brunner always got him whining. Grover might've thought Percy had a problem with authority if he hadn't once seen him fall into a perfect parade rest with a single look from a burly looking man standing outside an old Chevrolet.
Watching the cars go down fifth avenue in silence, Percy couldn't help but think of home. He was aware that for most people, home was a place. For him, it was a people. His apartment in Manhattan was just a series of rooms, it was only home once his mom was there. It certainly wasn't home once Gabe and his friends got home. Percy felt his ribs twinge in sympathy, he knew not all of his current bruises were from Sam and Dean, even if they didn't. The Winchesters didn't have a permanent residence, so home was also wherever Uncle John and the boys were, whether it was the backseat of their car or whatever run down motel they were staying in. It was usually a run down motel. He could still remember the first time he had met them;
It was dark by the time the car pulled to a stop in front of a dingy hotel. Percy silently watched as the man in the front seat got out of the car before copying his actions and following him into the room, duffle bag dragging behind him.
Two boys jumped up from the beds as they entered, Percy's slight build hidden behind the hulking mass of the older man. The taller one automatically placed himself between the other boy and the door, which had swung shut behind them after entering. Both boys were well built and held themselves with the confidence Percy wished for when he was left home with Gabe. Percy knew the exact moment they realised he was there because they both stiffened and the taller one frowned. "Dad, what-" the man -John, his mother had told him, his uncle- held up a hand to silence them.
"Boys," he started, "this is Percy, he's going to be staying with us for a while." John turned to look down at Percy, his stern gaze softening slightly. "Percy, these are my sons, Sam," he pointed to the smaller one, "and Dean."
Dean was still frowning, Percy noted, but his attention was drawn back to John as he continued to speak. "I know you all have questions, but it's late. I'll explain everything in the morning. Get some sleep."
Sam and Dean hadn't appreciated having a scrawny runt of a kid treading on their coattails, let alone being told that he would return for a week every month. It wasn't until the first week had passed and his mum had caught sight of the boys in the backseat of the impala and forced John to introduce her that they thawed a little.
Percy startled from his memory as a shadow fell over his face, his hand automatically reaching for a weapon he wasn't carrying. After all, museums had metal detectors, and he didn't want to have to explain to his mom why he'd been expelled for carrying a knife. Or several knives. He glanced up, squinting against the few rays of sunlight that snuck past the person standing in front of him. Focusing, Percy came face to face with the crooked teeth of Nancy Bobofit, her carrot red hair sitting like a wet mop on her head.
"Well, well, well," her nasally voice grated on Percy's ears, and he saw Grover twitch out of the corner of his eye. "If it isn't the two losers of Loserville," she started snickering as if she'd just said something funny. When he didn't react, Nancy's laughter cut off and she followed Percy's gaze to fifth avenue before a nasty smirk twisted her lips. "Aww, is widdle Percy missing his Mommy and Daddy? Oh wait, Daddy skipped out on you, didn't he? God knows I would've if I was him." Her snickering continued and Percy felt a particular surge of rage that was reserved for insults to his family or around his lack of a father. He forced himself to take a breath. He had received a long lecture from both Dean and Sam about staying in school, despite the former dropping out as soon as he could.
Nancy eyed his reaction carefully before continuing. "God, imagine being related to a retard like you Jackson. Bet your mum is just waiting for the right opportunity to drop you and run. Maybe she's grown a brain and she'll be gone by the time you return home."
Anger rising like a tidal wave within him, Percy stood, his fists clenching at his sides and aching to punch the twisted smirk off of Nancy's face. His teeth were clenching with the effort it took to restrain himself, and between one breath and the next Nancy was lying in the fountain behind him, sopping wet.
Grover was staring at him like he'd grown another head, with bugged out eyes, his jaw hanging agape and shock written all over his face. In the brief second Percy had used to take in Grover's expression, Nancy had drawn enough breath to start screaming for Mrs. Dodds, the pre-algebra teacher who thought Nancy was God's gift to earth.
"JACKSON PUSHED ME INTO THE FOUNTAIN!" Nancy's unearthly screech attracted the attention of Dodds, as well as numerous other students and passerbys. Mr. Brunner remained absorbed in whatever novel he had brought on this field trip. As always.
Dodds took one look at the situation and promptly decided that of course Percy was responsible, who else could it have been? She had him marching back towards the museum in an instant, probably looking for an isolated place to lecture him until his ears bled and then thoroughly threaten him with expulsion.
Never mind the fact that Percy hadn't even touched her.
