Chapter 8

Kronos had always been outmatched by his brother Lucifer, and he knew that much wouldn't have changed.

But it still comes as a horrible shock when Lucifer manages to pin him against the side of a skyscraper, blood staining both their clothes. There are a few cuts on Lucifer, mainly on his arms, which leak grace from the Archangel blade. The majority of the cars are crushed from either Luke or Nick's body being flung into them, and a few lights have toppled over.

Kronos brings the Archangel blade up in a desperate attempt at skewering his brother, but Lucifer grabs his wrist and twists it until the blade drops to the ground.

A punch to the face shatters his nose and thoughts.

Kronos feels blood drip down into his mouth from his nose and spits it out to the side, as hard as it is with his brother's hand latched around his neck. "Well?" he demands.

Kronos can't reach the blade, and neither can Lucifer unless he wants to let go of his brother, something which Lucifer evidently realises as he decides to punch Kronos again. The force cracks Luke's head against the building behind him, making him grunt. "I told you to not force my hand, brother," Lucifer growls. His hand flexes slightly, allowing Kronos to gasp in the air needed to keep his vessel alive. "Yet still, here we are." Lucifer's other hand moves up to cup the side of Kronos' face. "I'm sorry, little brother."

This time, Kronos rolls his head with the punch in an attempt to lessen to blow. It still stings, both physically and mentally with the knowledge that it's his older brother harming him. The next punch cracks his cheekbone in a spray of blood.

Lucifer grits his teeth and shakes his vessel's hand out, before he sighs. "Are you sure you don't want to join me, little brother?" After the punches and harm, that almost seems like an effort at convincing Kronos, but the younger Archangel can hear the defeat in his brother's voice, the sadness.

"I don't know," Kronos rasps out, honestly; the blatant truth.

"Humans… they're flawed. Abominations. Yet you want to try to defend them?" Lucifer demands angrily. "You would choose them over your own brother?"

Kronos takes several moments to gather himself before replying. "Yes, they're flawed. But at least a lot of them try. The ones that try? They're the ones I'm doing this for. Do what you want with the murderers, the rapists and psychopaths, but I will defend those whom deserve it." He takes a deep breath. "I'm not choosing them over you, Luci. You will always be my brother, no matter what you do. But they need someone to protect them."

The Devil's eyes narrow. "And I suppose you believe that that someone is you?"

"Someone has to," Kronos grinds out. "It won't be you. Or Michael, Raphael – they made that very clear. And Gabriel's fine with playing pagan."

Lucifer shakes his head. "Then I'm sorry, brother," he murmurs, his grip tightening around Kronos' throat.

"So am I."

With the next punch, darkness claims Kronos.

His grace works to heal Luke's body.

What seems only seconds later, a sharp punch to the face snaps him into awareness. His vision is blurry, Zeus' face before him only a vague shape. Darkness encroaches on him again and his head drops back with a faint sigh.

"Get… over… his soul." Oceanus' voice is sharp, cracking through the haze like a whip. "Zeus punch… again."

Instantly, another punch makes blood well up in Kronos' mouth. His hearing abruptly comes back in full-force, with screams and shouts and explosions making him wince.

"Kronos." Iapetus' voice.

"Yes," Hyperion says. That's the clearest thing Kronos has heard, and it falls heavy through the air. "Yes, you can touch my soul."

Kronos manages to grunt, his arm feeling like lead as he starts to raise it, only to feel dizzy and fall back. Vicious swear words echo from over him.

A warm hand touches Kronos' arm and he feels grace seep into his vessel, enough for his senses to return with complete clarity. Hyperion is crouched beside him, worry on his face. Behind him, the lobby of the Empire State building swims into view. Demigods are crouched just inside the doors, struggling to stop the hoard of demons from entering.

Kronos glances at Cas as the angel removes his hand. "Is that enough?" Cas asks, breathing deeper than usual.

Kronos grunts and stretches his right arm out towards Hyperion. The Titan instantly moves closer. "Ready?" Kronos questions, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm and letting his fingers settle on the Titan's bare chest.

Hyperion nods. "Yes."

Kronos' fingers sink into the Titan's chest. Hyperion hisses as light spills from his chest. The Archangel feels energy flood his vessel, racing through every muscle and cell as he touches Hyperion's soul.

After nearly a minute, Kronos carefully pulls back. As soon as his hand leaves Hyperion, the Titan falls back, grunting as he lands on his ass. "Enough?" Hyperion pants.

Kronos flexes his fingers. "For now." He pushes himself up and rolls his shoulders. "What happened?"

"Lucifer just left after knocking you out," Oceanus explains.

"What did you say to him?" Iapetus asks. "He looked… angry and upset."

Kronos acts as if he hadn't heard Iapetus' question. "How many demons remain?" He brushes a hand over his nose to heal it, tapping a finger against his other cuts and bruises to heal them.

"Enough."

He nods. "Good." His blade is still outside, but as long as no demon has stolen it, that's fine. He can retrieve it. "Out of my way," he orders the humans at the doors.

Sam and Dean are among them, and Dean shoots him a side glance. "Finally come to join the party?"

Kronos opens the doors and steps out into the hoard of demons. He fists his hands, light splaying from his fingers and exorcising the demons in his immediate vicinity. A step forwards, and he presses two fingers to the next two demons' foreheads.

A demon blade cuts into his side, another stabbed into his shoulder, and his response is to grab the two blades and turn them on their wielders, slashing long lines down their sides or arms. From there, a little grace, and the demons have been sent back to Hell.

It doesn't take long before the demons start smoking out, fleeing before the Archangel ravaging their numbers.

Kronos stops before the human Sally Jackson, eyes narrowing at the black eyes, and exorcises the demon that killed her son. He catches her before she can drop, lying her down on the road.

Slowly, the doors open. Sam and Dean are the first out, staring around at the bodies over the street.

"Boy, am I glad you showed up, buddy," Dean says in relief. "So… uh, how'd the chat upstairs go?"

Kronos glances back at him, before he turns to where man of the Olympian demigods are crowded. "That is none of your business, Hunter."

Dean winces. "That bad, huh?"

There's a mutual stiffening of muscles when Kronos stops behind Annabeth and Thalia.

Annabeth wheels around, dagger in hand, and – completely disregarding her own life – lunges at Kronos. He acts quickly, hand snapping up and latching onto her wrist, then twisting until he hears a satisfying crack. Annabeth cries out in pain, and he lets her go, stepping around her.

"I wish to help," he informs Thalia and the others, all too aware that his eyes are Luke's cerulean blue.

"Why don't I just gut you instead?" Thalia demands.

"Because then how would I help?"

"He's dead, jackass," Nico spits out.

"I am well aware, but I am an Archangel. Resurrection is in the job description," Kronos remarks. "Do you wish for me to drag his soul back from whence it went or not?"

"If it's possible," Thalia says slowly, "then you have to swear that Percy will come back whole. Not zombie-Percy."

Kronos snorts. "I will not swear. You will have to trust me. There are many things which could go wrong, and I cannot guarantee success."

"What could go wrong?" Annabeth demands.

Kronos glances back at her, before grasping her wrist and healing it, swiftly letting go before she can scratch his eyes out. "He may not wish to return, for one. I am an Archangel, so we need not worry about angels attempting to stop me. But the Fates may attempt to pose a problem."

"The Fates," Annabeth echoes flatly.

"Territorial bitches when it comes to souls," Kronos growls out. "Especially Greek ones." He rubs his hands together. "Should be fun." He presses two fingers to Percy's forehead and his other hand to his chest, over his heart. "I need silence. And an alcoholic drink for after."

Dean snorts. "Any specific kind?"

"Strong." There's a tense silence as everyone watches Kronos for several long minutes, until Kronos sighs and leans back. "Bitches."

"What?"

"They have already claimed his soul," Kronos muses. "Shame." He snaps his fingers, summoning the Three Fates. "His soul," he says flatly, jerking a finger at Percy. "Return it."

"We cannot do that," Atropos returns. "He is dead."

Kronos snorts. "He was supposed to live until the ripe old ages."

"He was," Clotho agrees. "Until you revealed your identity."

"You are well aware that each change can drastically alter Fate," Lachesis remarks.

"This is your own fault," Atropos finishes.

"I will have no qualms about tearing his thread off you," Kronos hisses, stalking towards the Three Fates. "You have been working alone, dispensing fate as you please. You should refer to Archangels, as you always have in the past."

"We see no Archangel here," Clotho says flatly.

The street lights pop overhead and the expressions of the Fates suddenly change to agony as they fall to their knees. Clotho chokes up ichor. Luke's blue eyes disappear behind blazing gold. "You will do as I say," Kronos booms. "The life-string of Perseus Jackson," he orders. A shimmering sea green string appears in Atropos' hands. "Give it to me."

It flies from Atropos' hands into Luke's. Two halves of one string coiled in the palm of his hand.

"Now leave."

The Three Fates stagger to their feet and disappear, glaring murderously at Kronos.

"Those were the Fates?" Dean asks. "As in spin the threads of life?"

"Yes," Kronos murmurs, turning the string over in his hand. He holds his other hand over the string, murmuring words in enochian under his breath. When he removes his hand, the string is whole. Kronos turns to Percy, crouches, and presses two fingers to his forehead.

Percy takes in a shuddering breath.

Instantly, mutters spring up around Kronos and Percy. Kronos puts a hand on Percy's chest. "Easy," he says, splaying his hand out. He feels Percy's heart beating against his palm. All body functions working properly, he notes with satisfaction. Kronos holds the life-string out to Percy. "This is yours." He lets his eyes bleed back to cerulean blue as he locks gazes with Percy. "The Fates claimed your soul, your life, as theirs. They will attempt to kill you again, if they are foolish."

"What… I was in the Underworld," Percy stammers. "What the Hades?"

Kronos grips his shoulder, forcing Percy to look at him. "The Fates will try to kill you again," he says slowly. "This," he holds the life-string out to Percy, "needs to be protected. If it gets cut, you die. No exceptions."

"What do you want?" Percy demands.

Kronos leans closer to him. "I want you to say yes."

"Don't do it," Dean says instantly. "Say yes to an angel of any kind, and they'll do what they want. They need consent. Any yes will work."

Kronos sighs. "Specify that I can alter your life-string. Nothing else, I promise."

"Why?"

"As long as they can touch this string, they can kill you before your time. Before God wishes for you to die. I'm not sure how much you know about the rules of the universe, but nothing happens before God wishes it. So, say yes."

"Uh… yes, you can alter my life-string for the best?" Percy asks.

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes!" Percy exclaims.

Golden light from Kronos' palm wraps around the sea green string, intertwining with the green fibres until it's laced with gold. Wordlessly, Kronos lets the string drop into Percy's hand. "They cannot touch it. You are a master of your own Fate, until Father decides that your life is over."

Percy slowly nods, and Kronos steps back to allow the demigods to crowd the son of Poseidon.

He smiles faintly and tilts his head up to look at the rising sun. "Are you going to shoot?" he asks softly. Instantly, the demigods snap around, their eyes widening slightly when they see Dean, with a gun's barrel pressed against the back of Kronos' head. "It didn't work out so well last time for you."

He turns until the barrel is pressed between his eyes. "Shoot."

Dean grits his teeth. "I didn't miss that little conversation you had with Lucifer before he knocked you out. What did he say?"

Kronos snorts. "Nothing I didn't already know."

"What did he say?" Dean snarls.

"Dean," Sam says quietly, "he just saved us."

"Yeah? He and the Devil had a little brotherly chat, Sammy. Of course I'm going to want to know what they talked about." He turns back to Kronos. "Any talk about taking down humanity?"

"Plenty," Kronos says flatly. "He wouldn't be Lucifer without talking about that."

"Any agreements going around?" Dean demands. "You did help him in the Fall."

Kronos tilts his head to the side. "Where's my drink?"

Dean lifts the bottle of beer, not taking his hand off the gun. "Here. Tell us what you talked about."

"We discussed the flaws of humans and Lucifer attempted to convince me to help him. I told him to piss off," Kronos slowly reaches up and grips the barrel.

"That's it?"

Kronos knocks his hand out of the way, the human involuntary firing the gun at the movement. The bullet ricocheted off the road. A millisecond later, Kronos had the gun – next bullet ready to be fired – under Dean's chin, the human's back pressed against his chest. "Your questions are irritating me," Kronos hisses.

Dean swallows. "Put the gun down and we'll talk properly," he managed.

Kronos snorts. "You just had me at gunpoint. I'm merely returning the favour. Tell your little brother to drop his gun."

"Sam," Dean grinds out. "Drop it."

"Dean—"

"You wanted to know what we discussed?" Kronos demands.

"Yeah," Dean says, "that would be nice."

Kronos' finger hovers over the trigger. "The flaws of mankind, the abominations that they can be. How they are unworthy of Father's love. How he – Lucifer – still loves me." He clicks the safety on. "And I told him that you may be flawed, may be abominations, but at least some of you try. I told him that I would protect those that try, that he would not kill them. He was… displeased with my answer." Kronos steps back, empties the gun of the magazine, and hands it back to Dean. "Is that satisfactory enough for you?"

Dean stares at him, eyes slightly narrowed. "You agree with him."

Kronos lets out a bitter laugh. "Of course I agree with Lucifer. He's my brother. I've always agreed with him. But unlike him, I'm willing to protect the few that try. That's why he was angry, why he left. Because I said no." He flicks a finger towards the gun. "You can put that away now. You too, Sammy. And I want my beer."