Ch9

The past two hours were nothing but a blur. He remembered it in bits and pieces, but none of it felt like it was happening to him. It was almost like someone else was driving his body, and he was just along for the ride.

Everyone just stared at him. For once even the buzzing woods were silent. Annabeth wouldn't meet his gaze.

Clarisse moved first. She rose from her kneeling position and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him behind her.

"C'mon newbie, let's get you checked out."

He couldn't stop seeing the Hellhound. Its burning red gaze was forever imprinted behind his eyelids. Its hulking mass tensing, tensing, tensing. Its open maw- oh fuck there's so many teeth there's so many teeth-

When it's not the Hellhound, all he can see is that damned trident hovering above his head.

He's sitting in the Big House. Someone's removed his armour for him, and his shirt is off. One of the older campers from the Apollo cabin is checking over his chest.

There's nothing but scars left. He was gutted. He should be dead why isn't he-

John had always been a firm believer in 'if it's not human, we kill it,' and Dean always, always, followed John. The only time Percy had ever known Dean to go against John was for Sam and it had gone down like a sack of bricks.

They didn't go against their father very often.

Percy didn't think they'd go against John for something as big as this. Not for him.

After all, nothing human does what he did in that river.

Hellhounds usually went for the damned.

Luke is walking him away from the Big House. He's been told to get some rest, he knows that much.

They walk- they walk past the Hermes cabin.

Why is he walking past the cabin where are they going surely they're not kicking him out he has nowhere else to go-

The door to Cabin Three is open.

Luke leaves him there.

Someone had already moved his things. They were sitting in a sad pile at the foot of one of the beds. The door was shut behind him, but he couldn't remember shutting it. He could still feel the phantom streams of water covering his chest, knitting his flesh-

No one had made eye contact with him on the way over. He remembered that much.

Annabeth was nowhere to be seen.

He felt contagious. Like he'd been stuffed in the nearest isolated room so that no one would be at risk of touching him. Be at risk of seeing him.

Humans weren't supposed to heal like that. What had the water done what was wrong with hi-

He'd been standing in the centre of the cabin for a while, staring at nothing. No noise came from outside. No one knocked on the door. He felt numb. The camp had obviously washed their hands of him. He sat on a bed.

The Hermes kids hadn't even bothered to steal the minotaur horn.


He awoke to pounding on the door.

"Oi! Prissy! Open up!" The unmistakable voice of Clarisse came through the- his- door. It was his cabin after all.

Don't think about it don't think about it don't-

"I know you're awake!"

He groaned and rolled out of bed. The banging on his door continued.

"Jackson, if this door isn't open in the next five seconds, I swear on the Council, I will kick it down!"

Percy wrenched the door open. "What?"

Clarisse pushed through the doorway. "I never took you for a coward, Prissy."

"I'm not-"

"You've missed breakfast. You're avoiding the camp. If you don't hurry, you're going to be late for your arena session."

"I was sleeping. You know, recovering from the life threatening injury I received yesterday?"

She looked him up and down. "Don't try to use that scratch as an excuse. You look right as rain to me, Prissy."

"Careful, Clarisse. I might just make the mistake of thinking you care."

"Buck the fuck up, Jackson, and get out there. You make nothing better by cowering in here."

"Pretty sure you aren't supposed to swear at kids." But Percy couldn't help cracking a small grin. At least Clarisse was the same as always.

And she's right, too. You've had your rest. Clearly you're recovered, so 'buck the fuck up' indeed.

Clarisse looked at him and snorted. "You ain't a kid, Jackson. Now, get." She glared at him, nodded towards the door, and left, slamming it as she went.

Percy let the grin slip from his face. God- gods, actually- he thought a little hysterically.

You're really going to believe this. This. This lunacy.

But he couldn't ignore the thrumming sense of rightness buzzing under his skin.

Clarisse was right. Hiding in here won't solve any of your problems. Everything else in your life is going to shit, you might as well go and work off some steam.

...

Everyone stared at him. The minute he stepped outside of his cabin, there was whispering and pointing. He noticed a few of the Aphrodite kids giving him dirty looks, but the Ares kids didn't even seem phased by his claiming. Some of them even nodded at him in solidarity. Huh.

The apparent…unity? From the Ares cabin wasn't enough to distract him from the hostility held by other cabins.

"...the nerve of him…broken oath…" Percy made eye contact with two kids that were whispering and outright glaring at him. They shared Annabeth's blonde hair and grey eyes. Percy clenched his jaw and looked away.

The reactions stayed the same as he walked. Opinions differed from cabin to cabin, but each cabin seemed unified in their opinion of him. He received only glares and insults from the Athena cabin, although there was no sign of his friend.

He decided to skip the dining pavilion. He didn't see the point in subjecting himself to a meal filled with gossip and staring, especially when it was all directed at him.

About halfway to the arena, the stares stopped and the whispering became a lot quieter. An Ares kid nodded at him, and then nodded at someone behind him. He turned his head slightly to one side, glancing behind him.

Clarisse. Making sure no one hassled him. He turned completely and stopped, looking at her incredulously. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"What are you looking at, dumbass? Trying to catch flies with that mouth?" Her tone was flat but her eyes held a spark of something.

What the fuck. First the wake up call, and now this?

"I'm sorry, next time I'm being shadowed without comment I'll just keep walking."

She just raised an eyebrow, "That would be preferable to staring at your ugly mug." Her lips twitched upwards.

"You know, following me around won't get your spear fixed any quicker." The pieces were sitting in a pile on one of the beds back at his cabin. He wasn't sure how to go about convincing the Hephaestus campers to fix it.

And wow. Of course they're freakishly good at building things when their dad is Hephaestus.

Clarisse snorted. "I'm aware. Now keep walking shrimpy, Castellan is waiting for you."

What the fuck. Okay, scratch that, Clarisse is acting completely out of sorts.

Percy turned and started walking. He had no clue what had kickstarted this, but for the time being he wasn't going to say no to someone watching his back.

Way to help me out, Dad. You've definitely made things easier for me. Not.


Luke was waiting for him alone in the ring.

"I wasn't actually sure if you were going to show up today. When I walked you to your cabin last night you seemed pretty…"

"Comatose?"

"I was going to say 'out of it,' but sure. We can go with 'comatose.'"

Percy snorted. "Well, staying in my cabin won't fix anything, so I might as well get some training in. Lord knows I need it."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "Percy, in all my years of training kids here, I've never seen a newbie take to it as fast as you did."

He fought a blush. The Winchesters weren't big on handing out compliments. He'd always felt like he was playing catch up to Sam and Dean, never quite good enough.

That's a lie. Sam and Dean were plenty supportive. It was only John who expected you to be better than you were.

He looked around the arena in an attempt to distract himself. Aside from the two of them and a singular dummy, it was completely empty. Percy was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that you normally trained with your cabin, which in this instance was just…him. Thanks, Dad.

Luke noticed him staring. "It's actually a bonus, being by yourself in this case. You get one on one time with your trainers, whereas in a big cabin like Hermes or Athena you don't often get any one on one."

He did have a point. In his singular arena session with the Hermes cabin, Luke had mostly given demonstrations. He hadn't been able to go around and help everyone personally; there were simply too many campers.

Percy focused back on Luke. While his words had been kind, even sincere, Percy recognised that glint in his eye. It was the same one John got when he'd decided that Percy was going to learn a new manoeuvre, come hell or high water.

"Was that a really nice way of telling me you're going to hand my ass to me on a silver platter?"

Luke's lip twitched and his eyes crinkled. He didn't deny it.

Percy groaned, but there was a grin on his face and he stepped into the ring without fuss. Luke grinned back at him, but it vanished quickly and was replaced by a pensive look. Percy raised a questioning eyebrow.

"You know most of the others are going to treat you…differently, right?"

Percy shoved down the sudden ache that formed inside- he'd just started settling in, damn it- and said, "Yeah, I got that on the walk through camp this morning, thanks." I got that when I was immediately shoved into a cabin by myself and none of my friends bothered to stop by. He kept his tone sardonic, refusing to let any bitterness creep in. Luke just huffed a laugh.

"Right. It's just that a lot of interactions here are driven and decided by godly parent. I'm sure you've noticed the strange respect between Annabeth and Clarisse? Ares and Athena are both warrior deities, so their kids tend to be…respectfully competitive would be the easiest way to describe it."

Right. Because…parents.

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Percy, your father is Poseidon. He's the brother of the King."

"So because my…father," Percy tried not to spit the word, "is some big-shot god, I'm a social pariah? I've never even met the guy!" And I don't want to, for that matter.

It did explain the animosity from the Athena cabin though. He knew all about the myth of Medusa. Not that you can call it a myth any longer.

Luke huffed a sigh, but Percy caught the warmth in his eyes.

"Come on, start your warm ups. If you're going to insult the camp and the Council you might as well have the skills to back up your lip."

Luke took a step back from him as he began warming up, running a critical eye over his form.

"You're angry about the reactions from the others." It wasn't a question, and Percy paused his stretches to glare at the ground. Luke cleared his throat and tsked, and Percy resumed his warm up.

"I don't get it. I'm the same kid I was before I was claimed, and suddenly half the camp hates me."

Luke sighed again. "Look, most of the kids here haven't met their godly parents," Luke began. "Most of them probably won't at any point in their life. Gods don't make good parents. They're too removed from the mortal realm, enough so that even though we have a foot in both worlds we're still ignored. So, godly politics dictate a lot of interactions here at camp because kids want to feel closer to their parents. They think that if they make them proud, maybe they'll be acknowledged. Some are just hoping to be claimed and are jealous of you because you're already 'one up on them.'"

Percy kept stretching out his muscles. "So, what? They carry their grudges too?"

"Exactly."

Percy huffed in frustration. "I notice that you're taking a different stand than most of the Hermes kids. They seemed pretty angry at me this morning."

Luke hefted his sword and walked towards Percy, "You'll find that I go against a lot of 'normal behaviours' here at camp. Warm up's over."

Training began in earnest. Percy's initial assessment of Luke the other day had proved to be correct; he was every bit as exacting as John Winchester when it came to training. He pushed Percy to the very limit, making him do a singular manoeuvre over and over and over again until it was perfect. Until it was muscle memory.

"Viper beheading strike. Fifty repetitions."

While training, Luke was a taskmaster. Percy's muscles ached and his lungs burned, and the only word out of Luke's mouth was;

"Again."

"Again."

"Again."

His face could've been carved from marble as he assessed Percy's form and made corrections, stopping him only to demonstrate the technique again or change drills. While training, the image of Luke in front of him blurred with the image of John in his head until it was some amalgamation of the two putting him through his paces. They had the same ruthless routine designed specifically to push him as far as possible. To make him work as hard as he possibly could.

"Listen up Percy." John was kneeling down so that they were at eye level. Sam and Dean were out practising their shooting. "I don't care whether you're racing the boys, or practising on your own, or training with me. You always put all your effort into it. You give 100%. And then after that, you give another 100%. You're young. Most people are bigger than you, and stronger than you. All monsters doubly so. You always have 100% more in the tank. You hear me?"

Percy nodded.

"No Percy, I need to hear you say it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle John."

"Good lad."

It wasn't until after they'd finished training that Percy discovered the difference between the two. Luke had thoroughly handed Percy his ass. He was battered and bruised, and aching in places he didn't realise he'd had muscles to hurt. That was usually where John left him. Eventually either he picked himself up or one of the boys came and got him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and when he opened them again, Luke's hand was reaching down for him. He picked him up off the ground, dusted him off and grinned.

"That was phenomenal, Percy! Your stance was a little narrow at the end there, which is what let me shove you over, but overall that was incredible for a second lesson. Are you sure you haven't done this before? You're months ahead of where you should be."

That was…not what he'd been expecting. It wasn't that John didn't care, he absolutely did. He just didn't believe in showing it. Tough love was the only form of love he recognised.

Belatedly Percy realised that Luke was still waiting on an answer.

"Uh, I've not worked with swords before, that's for sure. I've got some…hand to hand training is all." That was probably the best way to describe the rigorous and varied training that John put them through. It was definitely the easiest way to avoid concerned looks and carefully worded inquiries.

Luke gave him a measured look, one that said he knew there was more to it, but accepted his answer.

"Go hit the showers, Perce. And maybe think about snagging some lunch, I noticed you weren't at breakfast and you've gotta be starving by now."


The water from the showers invigorated him. He'd never realised that it wasn't normal, but since the river he was hyper aware of it.

Freak.

For the first time since he'd arrived, he welcomed thoughts of John. Better to agonise over the Winchesters than focus on the supernatural boost he received from the water. Besides, training with Luke might have been awesome, but it also dug up memories he'd rather have remained buried.

"If it ain't human, we kill it!"

The words had been yelled by John in one of his semi-regular arguments with Sam. They haunted Percy now.

He'd already known about monsters. After dealing with 'Mr. D' it was hard to deny the existence of gods- not for lack of trying on his part- but the idea of a god being his father? It would be utterly ridiculous if it didn't make so much fucking sense.

Looking back, so many of his mum's decisions made sense when he took that into consideration. Her insistence he learn about Greek Mythology. The way she'd always 'lost' a marshmallow to the fire at Montauk- was she sacrificing to him?

And when he looked at all the campers here…he could see it. It made sense.

"If it ain't human, we kill it!"

So many of his experiences made sense. The strange creatures he saw sometimes outside of school. The draw to camp- the emotional reaction to Bobby's rant about Demi-gods. He felt sick. All the signs had been there.

Did the Winchesters know? No. They couldn't. He wouldn't have made it this long.

Where did they draw the line? He wasn't human, not completely anyway- but he'd never hurt anyone.

His mum sacrificed to gods- maybe- did that make her less than human?

Did it even matter?

He'd never have hurt his mum. No matter what. And he'd already made peace with Grover.

So why was he having so much trouble accepting himself?

He shut off the shower.

...

There was a newspaper sitting outside his cabin.

The Hermes cabin snuck in a few different papers and distributed them around the camp. Quietly. After all, campers weren't supposed to leave without permission, and they certainly wouldn't get it just to retrieve a newspaper of all things. It was nice that they'd passed the paper along regardless of his parentage.

He managed to make out the paper name first. The print was big and in an easy-to-read font.

NEW YORK DAILY NEWS

Not a newspaper they usually bothered with. It was alright, but could be prone to bouts of sensationalism and there were better papers to smuggle.

It took him a while to make it through the article. The first sentence was a punch to the gut, and every sentence after that hit harder and harder. Anger clouded his vision, making it hard to find the patience it usually took for him to read.

BOY AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER FREAK CAR ACCIDENT

By Eileen Smythe

Sally Jackson and son Percy are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family's badly burned '78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken. The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before

exploding.

Mother and son had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident.

Ms. Jackson's husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepson, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child with connections to 'shady and dangerous people.' He has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past.

Police would not say whether son Percy is a suspect in his mother's disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson and Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free crime-stoppers hotline.

The number for the hotline was circled in red marker.

Percy didn't realise how hard he was holding the newspaper until it started ripping where he was clenching it. His knuckles were white with tension, and the newspaper was shaking with the force of his tremors. He let it drop back to the porch.

Grief slammed into him again, choking him. Smothering any sound he might have made. God. He hadn't allowed himself to forget, it wasn't something he could ever forget even if he wanted to. But he had let it…fade. He'd become numb, getting through each day step by step. Now…now. 'Missing.' They didn't know she was dead. No one knew she was dead, outside of camp. No one that mattered anyway. Sam and Dean…well. He might have his…issues with them currently but…

She'd meant something to them, too.

She'd meant something to everyone who knew her, really.

His cheeks were wet. He needed to call Bobby, too. She'd mentioned that they'd talked when she'd picked him up on the way to camp. His grief turned ugly. Angry.

What was the point of leaving this on his porch? What was the fucking point of circling the number? They can't call it because I'm fucking stuck here and therefore the police can't find me.

He snarled wordlessly and snatched the newspaper up again.

Later, a Hermes camper would find it pinned to the cabin door with a knife from the armoury.

...

Percy's dream that night was…informative.

The cavern he found himself in was shadowed. Light enough that he could see the massive pit in the centre with clarity, but dark enough that the ceiling was concealed from view and the walls were hazy.

There was something in the pit. He couldn't see it. The pit stretched down further than the light could stretch, but he could feel something there. Something old.

It was Other enough that he couldn't call it a person. Considering the world he'd been dumped in, he couldn't even say with certainty that it was mortal, but there was certainly a being present.

"The Son of Poseidon." The words echoed around him and Percy couldn't contain his flinch. Was this how he was going to be identified now? Only known for his heritage, his father?

"In this world of gods and monsters? Yes, young one, that is how others will first see you." The voice rasped over the lip of the pit and scraped against the walls. Fear stabbed through him.

"There is no need for fear, child, for you do not pose a threat to me."

"Who are you?" Percy couldn't swallow his trepidation. 'You do not pose a threat to me.' Never a good sign.

"I am one who wishes to see the fall of the gods."

"That doesn't answer my question." The being chuckled, dark and low.

"Listen to what I have to say, and I will answer your question."

Percy pinched himself. The being remained both present and silent. The cavern walls didn't even flicker. He knew he was dreaming, he could feel the vague vividness that usually accompanied his dreams, but the pinch had done nothing. Finally he sighed.

"What have the gods done that's so bad?" A drilling laugh echoed through the cavern.

"Do you mean historically or recently?" Percy averted his eyes from the pit. The being had a point. "I'm sure you know all about the myths describing their wrath and lack of care. The tales of mortals who simply got caught in the crossfire and the games the gods like to play, so I won't bother to go into that again."

Percy clenched his jaw.

"But recently? The storms that have been brewing, the sea disasters, the downed aircraft are all a result of an argument between the king and your father."

Percy sucked in a breath and opened his mouth, whether to dispute the claims or ask questions he didn't know. Nothing came out. The being pushed on regardless.

"The king has…misplaced an important item of his. He's accusing his brother of stealing it. Your father has taken offence and is threatening war unless the king apologises. It seems like an overreaction, don't you think?"

"He wouldn't…" Percy trailed off. He didn't actually know his father. He'd never met him. He couldn't predict what he would and would not do. Poseidon had seemed pretty furious in his dreams.

"It gets worse, young one. Your very birth goes against a very serious oath. If he'd cared about your wellbeing, he would've kept existence a secret. Instead, he's publicly claimed you. It seems to me like he wants you for something."

Percy took a step back. There was nowhere to go - the cavern had no exit.

"He's never once shown you he cared. Never protected you when you've needed it. He's made your life behind those borders more difficult by claiming you, and for what? Give it a few days. You'll be summoned to fulfil a 'request.'

Percy swallowed roughly. "So he'll use me. Good to know. Why are you talking to me? I doubt it's out of the goodness of your heart."

"I told you. I wish to see the gods fall, and like it or not, you're a very powerful piece in the game."

"In other words, you want to use me too, only you want to use me against him."

"Yes."

Percy flinched and blinked rapidly. Reduced to just a pawn on the board all because of your heritage.

"The difference is that you will never find the gods admitting that. Your father will pretend he loves you. That he cares. But what is a mortal life compared to that of an immortal's? You are a blip in our existence, we cannot care. The difference between him and me is that I do not pretend to care for you.

"I wish to crush the gods. They are unfit to rule and I want revenge for the pain they have put me through. I want you on my side because if you stand with them you could cause me complications and I have waited long enough."

Percy swallowed again. "Who are you?" He whispered into the darkness.

"My name is Kronos, Father of the gods."

The room flashed bright enough to blind him.

Percy stood in the middle of New York City. Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder boomed overhead. The rain fell hard enough to sting his skin.

Somewhere across the city voices boomed.

"Return it now, brother!"

"You have brought this on yourself, Zeus!"

The ground rumbled. Buildings started shaking. Glass fell from the sky. Around him, people started screaming.


Dean stared at the crumpled newspaper in his hands.

After Bobby's phone call he'd taken a day to let himself sober up and listen to his voicemail. Then he'd called Bobby back. By that point no one had heard from Sally or Percy for roughly eighteen hours. Dean had immediately set out for New York. He'd tried to call Sally from some random gas station, but she hadn't picked up.

She hadn't called him back, either.

Hauling ass from bumfuck Virginia to Manhattan had taken him roughly seven hours, so theoretically he should've only been a day or so behind them. Realistically, they'd both vanished off the face of the planet. He'd been searching for a week, but no one had any clue where Sally had gone or what had happened to Percy. He'd even called local hospitals, asking if anyone who matched their descriptions had been admitted. Nothing.

Which brought him back to the newspaper.

BOY AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER FREAK CAR ACCIDENT

His hands had started trembling. They were- they could be- No. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

He still remembered the first time he'd met Sally.

The apartment was rundown and in what looked like a shady part of town. Dean looked it over while his dad tried to find a parking spot. Jackson- Percy was practically vibrating in the backseat. Dean still didn't understand why they'd started looking after him, especially since he still had family of his own, but his dad hadn't budged on the matter.

"Okay, Percy," his dad started, pulling into an empty car park. "We'll see you again in a month. Sally and I will sort out the pick up."

"Thanks, Uncle John." That was also something Dean had to get used to. Apparently, he was a cousin. He had an aunt. An aunt who was standing in the doorway waiting for them. Percy was out of the car in a flash, his bag flailing behind him.

"Mum!"

Sally Jackson laughed and scooped him up in a flash. Dean felt a stab of…of…was that jealousy? His dad nodded at Sally Jackson and went to back out of the car park.

"John Eric Winchester! You put that car in park right now!"

His dad froze. Dean winced. No one ever spoke to his dad like that. No one even dared to raise their voice.

"You've met your nephew, I want the chance to do the same with mine!"

His dad put the car in park. Dean stared at him like he'd grown another head.

"You heard your aunt, boys. Out of the car." Dean turned to look at Sam, only to see the same bewildered look on his face reflected back at him. Slowly, he undid his seatbelt. Percy was grinning at him from outside. They got out of the car.

Sally Jackson's hugs were warmer than any he could recall receiving since the fire.

Dean ripped himself from the memory. Sally had welcomed him and Sam with open arms, and Percy had been delighted to share her with them. She'd been a beacon of love and stability in the wicked world he and Sam had grown up in. The world they'd introduced Percy to. He'd had arguments with his father about that, too.

And now they were gone. 'Missing,' the newspaper said. Missing, not dead. He swallowed roughly. He still hadn't told Sam what had happened. Didn't want to admit that he'd screwed up with both of his brothers. Not that Sam had done much better, leaving Percy without a number to call.

He eyed the content of the newspaper again. The husband, he decided, was the next best lead. Dean had never met him, Sally had always made sure Gabriel was out when they swung around to visit, but Dean had his suspicions about what might be going on in that apartment. He'd seen flashes of bruises that looked suspiciously like handprints on her arms.

Dean crumpled the newspaper into a ball and clenched his jaw. Yes, it was time to pay Gabriel Ugliano a visit.