Disclaimer, I own nothing except like a few things here and there. This is also a very basic idea of Ancient Greece and the mythology involved, although Atalanta really was suckled by a bear and other crazy stunts like that

I name my chapters after songs because I'm wild and I do what I want.

And because, *sniff*, it's what Kevin would have wanted.

So I've decided to keep John's name as John because it makes me laugh and if something brings you joy in life my dear you hold onto that thing and you do not let go.

Don't expect me to keep the chapter names as old Dean-esque songs. *angry arm waving* You can't ask that of me!

This chap is named after Metallica's song Enter Sandman.

The last one was named after Renegade by Styx.

Without further ado, I'll stop chewing your arm off and let you get to the main attraction.

Btw swearing for like forever hahah

CHAPTER 2: Enter Sandman

That night, somehow, there was a cargo ship in port with a shifty captain that didn't ask questions and was heading direct to Athens. Sam would have believed that some god was watching out for them is he had thought that the gods cared about anyone but themselves.

Dean had set himself up on the deck, stretched out on some poor persons grain export. Sam however had stayed below deck in the area that he and Dean had been allocated. He was busy hiding the statue, then placing three decoys in more obvious places. It was exhausting, but people payed good money for gold, even if it was stolen from the temple of John.

John. Sam shook his head. Honestly. What self-respecting god called himself John?

Sam lay back and stared up at the wood that was the ground of the deck and his own personal ceiling. It was a dodgier ride than they normally got. Usually it was walking or 'cutting loose' some horses. The king thought they were off to the woods to chase tree nymphs and discover themselves or some crap along those lines. It had been easy to trick him, he was so eager to be rid of them both after Dean had given him a good name that he probably would have sent them off to the firing line had the opportunity come up. Sam had initially respected the guy for taking them in, for marrying Mary despite the fact that she had two bastard sons (well, who knew for Sam) and for treating them and naming them his own sons. But now it was getting harder and harder to find things to forgive him with. Mary was miserable, they were criminals and the world was falling to pieces.

Of course, he'd married her because he'd heard rumours of the Gods blood arriving on his shores and wanted to claim some of that glory for himself. He'd gotten Dean the best of the trainers in the whole of the land. Rufus marched them around with a brute sort of efficiency, but an efficiency nonetheless. Sam had never been as strong as Dean, so Rufus had taught him how to win by being clever and by being fast. Sam had always respected him for that.

Sam sighed and turned onto his side, finished with running and hiding their goods. The boat was to take off in twenty minutes and it was probably better that Sam was sleeping if soldiers came knocking. He knew that the kingdom was awfully superstitious. That left them with placing their faith in the gods that the statue would be avenged by their heavenly associates.

Sam found sleep easily. Hypnos must have been in a good mood.

The soldiers did not come aboard the ship. It departed the docks and took with it Dean sunbaking on the deck and Sam sleeping soundly below.

Sam was having an odd dream.

He knew lots of stuff. Like he knew that Bellerphron had been told where the girdle of the Pegasus was because the goddess of wisdom had come to him. Sam had always thought it was pretty unrealistic, this coming from a guy who'd bought the king taking them in out of the 'goodness of his heart'.

He had been an infant when they'd washed up onto the shores, having been cast away at the bottom of a merchant's ship not unlike this one. He should probably stop being so hard on himself for that.

But now he was in a dream and he was standing next to his sleeping form. Dean had ambled in some time when he'd been asleep and collapsed near him, limbs tangled with the ropes and other bits and pieces scattered along the ground.

"Sam," a feminine voice said.

Sam turned and saw a woman, red headed and proud. She had doe brown eyes and wore flames on her sleeves. "Uh...hi?"

"I have to speak to you," she pressed, walking forward so that he had to look at her. All at once he noticed there was something off about her. Call it intuition or the fact that he'd had his brother to measure people up to his entire life, but she seemed unearthly. Godly.

"You...am I dreaming?" Sam inwardly cursed. Nice priorities.

"Yes," she said quickly. "Sam, this concerns your brother."

Sam raised his eyebrows. Of course it did. "Oh, well then you're at the wrong-"

"No, no," The woman seemed nervous. "It's you I have to speak to."

"Are you..." Sam narrowed his eyes. The flames and her presence, the way her aura seemed the emit friendliness and happiness and home. "You're the goddess of the hearth, Anna, right?"

Anna looked confused. "What? Oh, yes. Yeah I am. It concerns a prophecy."

Sam frowned. "Whose prophecy?"

Anna looked like she was nearly done trying to explain all this to Sam. "You're brothers, you absolute Nymph."

Sam blinked. "That's a bit harsh."

Anna shrugged. "Maybe. Ok, I overheard the Fates talking to Dean's father. They told him what was in plan for him."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Why should I believe you?"

Anna was becoming agitated. "Because you need to save him, Sam!"

There was complete silence as Sam stared at Anna. "...save him?"

Anna hissed in frustration. "Are all humans so slow? Yes! Save him! You can never avoid your own fate, but maybe, if someone knows, someone who can do something..."

"You want me to save him," Sam summarised. "From what?"

"From becoming a Hero," Anna said, giving a dark laugh like it was something disgusting. Hero. "It never ends well Sam, never. You can't be happy and remembered. It's never happened. It never will happen."

"He won't be remembered," Sam said slowly. He wondered how bad the prophecy was if it was worse than that.

"He'll lose everyone," Anna plead. "You, your mother, everyone you've ever cared about. He'll live through all that, only to die. Please Sam, he needs to be saved. He won't be able to take this. It'll turn him mad."

Sam stood in shocked silence. "And...and Dean's father is alright with this?"

Anna smiled darkly. "Of course. Another son remembered and the threat of patricide at nil. he'll protect Dean from the scorn of the other gods for trespassing on their sacred spaces and stealing their sacred things, but he won't save him from this."

Sam mulled it over, head turning a thousand miles a minute. His death. Dean would survive his and his mothers and everyone they cared about. He thought about Dean all alone, without anyone. Then he looked slowly up at her. Anna was looking at him insistently, she looked so hopeful. There was something wrong here. The gods didn't just help people. They fought people and bit at people and tore people to shreds.

Sam looked at her carefully. "Why are you helping me?"

Anna blinked, shocked. "Why?" She asked like she was wondering how he had the audacity to ask her that. Like it was the furthest thing from what she could have expected him to say.

Sam was unrelenting. "Yeah. Why? Why go behind your brothers back? Why?"

"Because, you, he, your mother," Anna looked like she was getting angry. "You're family. I'm supposed to be your protector. I can't stand by idly anymore. It's killing me." She met his eyes with a chilling ferocity and helplessness. "I can't."

Sam watched her carefully. His foot brushed against his sleeping ankle and he felt a thrill run up his body. She would be punished for this, if anyone found out. Unless she was acting on the orders of someone. Unless she was using him.

Sam shook his head slowly. "I don't know if I believe you."

Anna sighed. She looked defeated.

Sam hadn't expected her to sag like that, to look so devoid of life. Perhaps she was being sincere. But could he take that chance? He knew, probably better than most people, how apt the gods were at fucking things up.

Anna just ran her hand through her hair and knocked the hood of her cloak off of her head. "I get that you don't believe me. I just want you to know that I never lied to you, Sam. Never."

Sam frowned but she was drifting away, and everything was cloudy white and nothing.

And then he was being shaken awake, a hand on his shoulder, Dean's voice in his ear.

"Rise and shine, Sammy," and he could hear the grin in his big brothers voice.

Sam turned, woozy, lost in sheep, shaking it off of himself and stretching out, his long legs hitting something by his feet. He remembered where he'd been standing last night and looked up quickly, wondering for a second whether he was going to look up and see himself smiling down at him, eyes black as sin, ready to kill Sam and take his place.

Sam looked around quickly and saw nothing but a bunch of bags that Dean must have moved when he'd woken up. He let out a short laugh of relief and pushed himself onto his elbows, sitting himself up and looking around the room. Other people had slept in the same place as them that night, but they'd been more prepared than the Winchester's. They had pillows and sheep skin blankets. They were curled around each other and still breathing evenly.

Sam glanced around and saw the doorway, mentally calculated the light and the dark and swore.

He ran up to where Dean was standing, half tempted to throw him into the water.

"Dean!" Sam said, annoyed, stalking out of the cabin, not caring how much noise he made. "What the hell? It's still really fucking early."

"Language, Sam," Dean chastised, his heart not fully into the joke.

Sam just heaved a sigh and went to stand next to him. Across the water the sun was rising, crashing out of the waves and moving across the universe. Sam had to admit it was beautiful, even if he'd had to wake up early to see it. Eos arched her fingers and curled across the horizon, like she was stretching, desperate, across the heavens. Reaching up to touch the stars, drops of sunlight her tears as they ran away from her.

"How are you, Sam?" Dean asked suddenly.

Sam looked at him oddly. "Uh, fine. I guess."

Dean nodded and kept his gaze out to sea. "Awesome."

Sam shifted, uncomfortable. "How are...how are you, Dean?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Good as I'll ever be."

Something about his tone, something about the way he looked out to the waves, it set Sam's teeth on edge. There was something itching at the back of his mind...

He nearly toppled over when he remembered. Anna and the warning that might have been a trap, Anna and her words and her begs and her sheer red hair.

Sam opened his mouth to say something but then he saw Dean's face, so awfully young in the fresh morning light. So pure and peaceful.

He looked back out to sea and thought about everything. About Anna and all she had said. That Dean would lose everything.

Well, to defeat that prophecy, he just needed to protect things. He would protect himself and his mother, which, honestly, was the extent of who they cared about.

But it didn't matter if they met more people or made more friends. Because Sam, he'd save them as well.

Sam stared out to the ocean, his arm brushing with his brothers. He vowed something then. Something crippling and damaging and terrifying.

I'm gonna save everyone, Sam thought, casting his mind out like he was saying a prayer. Because perhaps the gods would hear him. Perhaps they'd hold all of this to him. I'm going to save everything.

Dean helped Sam unload their few possessions off the boat. It was just them, a pack with food for a few days and some clothes he'd won playing dice with some of the other guys on the boat. They'd taken an instant liking to Dean, which had been their downfall. They couldn't have known that he'd rigged the dice. They might have suspected something when he never lost, but then again, they weren't about to start anything under the watchful eye of the captain or with the strongest looking guy on the boat. More than that, Dean knew Sam was kind to them, and they knew that the two boys were travelling together.

There wasn't much kindness in the days Dean struggled through. It cut-throat and unforgiving.

"You good?" Sam asked, watching him with wide, innocent, careful eyes.

Dean nodded and pasted another smile onto his face. "Couldn't be better. Need me to carry that?" Sam looked a little offended so Dean added, "I am the son of the Gods, after all."

Sam got a weird expression on his face at the mention of 'gods', but hefted the statue over to Dean with a small smile and no great deal of reluctance. Dean wasn't surprised, hollow yeah, but even hollow it was heavy. Running with it had been a mixture of over-estimating and adrenalin, and now it was just a dead weight.

"So," Dean adjusted the statue so that it leant on his chest. "Where are we taking this?"

"Ari," Sam said and Dean groaned.

"Ugh," Dean recalled the old man who'd bought things off them in the past. "He's bad news and creepy as Hell, Sam. We don't need him. We'll find someone else."

Sam shook his head and pointed to the uncommonly large number of people huddling along the wharf as they moved toward town. "Look, Dean. I'd heard about this in that last place, but I didn't believe it." Sam shook his head and Dean recognised what all this simpering, homeless people must mean.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Athens is...in decline?"

Sam nodded, thunderstruck. "Seems to be."

Dean looked around and had t consciously stop himself from shaking his head. This was insane, the city was the centre of the modern world. There were the best schools in the world here, schools that Dean privately hoped he'd have enough money to send Sam to when his little brother was old enough. The thought of Sam sitting around in a big old room, lectured by the best in the world on philosophy and mathematics brought Dean a bittersweet joy. Where did Dean's talents lie? In making war and in fighting more than one opponent. Oh, and all that stealing stuff. All those things will fade quickly, his strength won't last forever.

"You ok?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean.

Dean nodded and lead the way. "Yeah. Sure, fine. Is Ari living in the same place?"

Sam nodded. "Last I heard. He said he'd send word if he moved."

Dean tried not to look too dispirited when Sam said that. As much as his little brother was clever, he also had an undeserving belief in the humans they were forced to deal with and then humanity as a whole. He didn't have any faith in the gods though, which Dean was relieved for. And he'd begun to narrow his eyes whenever the king spoke.

Dean wasn't sure, but there was probably something wrong with a guy who adopted two kids in simply because one of them might be descended from the gods. He didn't know. Probably.

They made their way up through the docks, weaving along through the crates of goods that came from all over the world. Dean winced when the heady scent of rotting fish hit him from a ship that looked a little worse for wear. All he could smell was fish, seaweed and whenever a sailor dashed past him, the sour scent of unwashed bodies. There was a beauty to the open sea and losing yourself on the waves, sure. But Dean could never see himself committing to it. Nomadic travelling, sure. But the land was where the gods had decided was free for all, or free for none. No god dictated control over the earth, no god could demand the world stop or start. That was the sort of thing Dean told himself to get to sleep at night.

The sea, however, was the sea Gods domain. Him and his Neied's. The water spirits drowned soldiers and tore apart ships if the captain or one of the crew offended the malevolent god and he was an easy god to piss off. Dean had thought maybe his presence on the sea would have been enough to shook the old god into action, tipping the boat over or ripping his hand through the bottom and pulling Dean down into the depth of the inky blue, but he didn't. Dean supposed he had his dad to thank for that one. Oh well. It was his father's fault he had been born with the stigma of 'Demigod' pasted over his head. Dean figured that the century old deity owed him.

The two brothers made off through the town when they got out of the maze of boats and yelling, sun-bronzed people. It was a nice day, the summer sun beat down on their heads with more tenderness than the assault yesterday and the air tasted sweet, despite the fact that they were near the smoke and dust of the Athenian city.

"Nice day," Dean commented, glancing around at the carriages pulled by mules and donkeys and the people milling about. "Too bad about the whole fugitive thing."

Sam frowned. "We're not technically fugitives."

Dean shrugged. "Makes our lives sound more interesting."

Sam shouldered his pack. "Trust me, our lives are interesting enough."

Ari lived on the fair side of town, away from the docks and the city centre, far from the marketplace and removed from the tourist centre. He was nowhere near the castle and herein lay Dean's biggest problem with the guy. He was so far away from everything, if someone got wind of his purchases and the things he sold, his area would be the first place they looked.

"This guys an idiot," Dean grumbled as they struggled up another hill, the weight of the idol was really making itself felt after 20 minutes of walking. "Wouldn't it make more sense to live in plain sight, too..." he adjusted the statue for the fifth time "I dunno, avoid suspicion?"

Sam even smiled a little at that. "Yeah, probably. But, come on man. We're lucky we found ourselves a rich idiot. Some people go through lives never even coming close to the deal we get with him."

A rich idiot. That summarised Ari pretty well. "True," Dean said, sighing and adjusting the statue.

Sam frowned and for a moment, looked a little self-conscious. "Do...do you want me to carry it?"

Dean glanced over. "No, no, I'm fine. Stop askin'."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Stop sighing then."

They moved further and further away from the bright, sparkly end of town and into the rural district, where the homelessness from the decline was spelt out in bad paint jobs and children sitting, sullen and staring , in the streets. And then there were the men sat in the gutter clutching a bottle of some strong smelling alcohol. Dean didn't have time to flash them sympathies, but Sam smiled at them softly, trying to spell out We can't help you and there's empathy for you here and you don't deserve this in a small flex of his muscles.

They walked around to the house that they remembered Ari being in the last time they'd had to make a quick sell in Athens. They could normally trick some poor schmuck out of more money than Ari was willing to give them. He might be a rich idiot, but he knew the worth of a gold plated statue with a hollowed inside than a twisted devotee to the gods.

Sam clenched his fingers and then balled his hands into a fist, knocking on the door. Dean let the statue fall to the ground slowly, rising up without the weight and smiling, the relief spilling out along the muscles of his chest and arms.

Sam gave him a look after he had signalled that they were waiting outside the house. "Wow."

Dean stretched his hand out and twisted his torso to loosen his abdomens. "I dunno, might have had something to do with the massively heavy statue you forced me to carry."

Sam just rolled his eyes and didn't play along with the goad, not giving Dean the satisfaction of getting self-righteous. Dean hummed quietly to himself, amusing himself by staring at the pretentious, yet beautiful carvings, memoirs of a Athenian wedding, and then the gods involved swirling around the heads of the bride and the groom. If he wasn't mistaken, Ari had never been married in his life and relied on a good deal of probably illicit herbs to, well, get himself going. Around the brides head was Anna, and then the goddess of marriage Jody, with her short dark hair and piercing eyes. Then around the grooms head was the king of the gods, Dean's dead-weight father with a serious glow in his eyes and a beard that Dean hoped he hadn't inherited. Then there was a few other gods who's faces had become too disfigured for recognition. Dean could see Crowley, the wine god, making liquid out of grapes held up for him by some minor nymph.

"Check it out," Dean said, more to himself than Sam. "It's the family."

Sam glanced up and saw the fresco and snorted. "Well, you're definitely Crowley's half brother."

Dean made a face at that. It was weird for him to think that he was as biologically related to the drunk of Olympus as he was to his mortal brother, standing next to him, waiting a weirdly long time for Ari to answer the door.

Dean flicked his eyes towards a window and saw nothing but darkness, so he pressed his ear against the door to see if he could hear anyone moving inside.

"Knock again?" Sam asked, following Dean's suit by looking through the window.

"See anything?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing."

Dean heaved a sigh and knocked again. He hoped that this wasn't Ari's idea of a test or something. If the weird ass wedding carving was anything to go by, he was becoming more and more worried about his image. Which meant 'Fashionable Lateness'. Which meant Dean was three second away from kicking the door down.

Sam gestured to the house quickly and Dean stood and listened carefully. He made a half relieved, half pissed face when he heard scuffling inside.

The door peered open and Ari stuck his head out, the man had dark brown eyes, a squished face and hair closer to black than brown. His face broke into something more akin to acknowledgment than welcome, but he fully opened the door nonetheless.

"Hiya, Ari," Dean smiled, like a predator. "Remember us?"

Ari nodded jovially. "Yes, yes, of course! The kings sons! What can I do for you?"

"We've got a business proposal," Sam said, entering the house, forcing Ari to step back and allow room for Dean and the statue, which he bent over to pick up.

Ari looked nervous. "Again?"

"Yeah, again," Dean sighed. "We're nearly out of time, you're our last hope, man."

They stood in the doorway and Sam glanced purposefully at the door. Ari, albeit reluctantly, swung it shut and they were thrown into a dusky darkness.

"So," Dean unfurled the fabric like Sam had done yesterday, except where his brother had unwound it to make a flag, Dean did it to reveal what was inside. The gold bleated up at them cheerfully, catching the light. "How much drachma could you spare for this old thing?"

The side of Sam's mouth turned up and he met Dean's eyes. "We found it on the side of the road."

Ari's eyes took in the gold with greedy pleasure. "Shame, that."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, downcast. "So, what are we talkin' here, 40 drachma, 50?"

Ari's eyes met his, and the older man smiled.

When Jo told the castle attendant her name, he watched her fearfully, and then made the action to ward against evil. She stood like a page of myth, like a face from the dead coming back to haunt the living. She would have been, she hoped, if she had actually died. Raised herself out of hell and kicked her dad's ass for leaving her out like that.

"I'm here," she walked towards him carefully. "To see my father."

He gaped and nodded, running off in the opposite direction. Jo sighed and rubbed her shoulder, glancing around the room she was in. It was nice, too nice, too clean. Cleanliness was misleading, she remembered Meg had told her. Everything about this world was misleading.

Jo had come to the Hunters after being taken in by a bear. The bear had lost its cubs and an eye to hunters a few weeks before, men with savage dogs and red eyed horses. It had confused Jo with what it had lost, picked her up by the scraps of fabric that had been all she had been left with as she'd had her death sentence handed to her and whisked her off to its cave.

Meg and her huntresses had found the bear and rescued Jo before the bear accidently sat on her.

And since then, that was how she was raised.

Running along with the wolves and learning how to shoot before she could stand. She surpassed all the others in Meg's company and now she was off, off to make her mark, to see if there would be songs sung about the forgotten daughter turned warrior.

"Jo?"

Jo turned and saw a man she didn't recognise running down to her. When Meg had come across the series of events and relayed the story to Jo, she'd been careful not to give any physical descriptions of the king. She said that Jo would know, that blood calls to blood.

Jo stood rigid as the king walked closer to her.

"You're...alive?"

Jo smiled. "Apparently."

The king shook his head. "I can't...I can't believe it."

Jo smiled. "Better luck next time, right?"

She was so mad, she was shaking. Because she did recognise him. Despite not wanting to, despite assuring herself that family went beyond blood. But here she was, and her eyes flicked over his face and his clothes and the expression that had been incredulous and now hovered around stunned and affronted, and she knew he was hers. That she was his.

"I-"

"Save it," Jo cut him off.

She smiled savagely. The gods could not have been kind to him in the years that he'd spent having rid himself of her. Infanticide was brushing a little close to home to the King and all his Olympian buddies.

Now he'd learn what family meant, and deal with all the dysfunction and all the pain that came with it.

Jo liked the Fates and she liked the Furies. She liked how you got served what you gave and vengeance was assured.

Silence had washed across the foyer, trapping the king into just looking at her, wondering what to say, what not to say, how fast she was at pulling out her bow.

"We have a lot to talk about."

Ok, so:

Jodi: Hera

Crowely: Dionysus

Jo: Atalanta

Anna: Hestia

Sam and Dean: Perseus/Theseus/Jason etc.

Meg: Artemis/Head Hunters Honcho/Random Huntress/Amazon/Penthesilea

DEVIATIONS FROM ACTUAL MYTH: Character names/Hestia's involvement in humanity/Atalanta's reason for returning (which I don't know so I made it up no one get angry)/Athens in decline