Chapter Text
The Fates are cruel, and the gods don’t care, so Percy has no idea who he has to thank for the grace period they receive after the war. They don’t have to go back to school until they’re ready. New Rome will take care of the bureaucracy.
Percy and Annabeth sleep. They wake up screaming. They watch camp rebuild, help where they can. But the looks. Their family give them looks , now.
They are really just serving time.
“I want to see my mortal family,” Percy breathes into the space between them one night as they are lying there like abandoned corpses.
“Dean and your dad? Or Sam?”
“Dean first, I think.” Percy told his oldest brother the first chance he got that he went undercover on a hunt, got hit with amnesia. He promised he’d come find him soon.
“When are we going?” Annabeth asks.
They need a direction. This can be that.
Percy kindly asks his biggest brother to make him something that will get them places, so they can keep up with the Impala and get out of Dodge quickly if they need to. Much as that car was home not six months ago, he can all too clearly imagine getting trapped in conversations he doesn’t want to have in that passenger seat. They need to be able to leave.
Tyson, in true Tyson fashion, pulls through in elegance and undeniable style. Percy’s shiny new sea-green motorcycle has tastefully placed celestial bronze studs running along it. There’s a matching trident symbol inlaid at the crest of the hood, and if you click it in, the bronze coating slides back to reveal a more prismic surface that they can use to make rainbows for IMs. It’s all very understated, which makes it look way too sophisticated for Percy to be driving it. The big guy’s even found him some brown leather saddle packs to attach with Mary Poppins-style charms so they can live out of them, pack whatever they want. There’s a compartment for backup weapons (which can come in handy, despite Riptide’s convenient nature) as well as snacks and gadgets, which Tyson’s fully stocked for them. And let’s not forget the beast itself, which is as powerful as it is agile, boasting unprecedented durability (Tyson knows his brother well), impressive speed, and reliable performance.
Percy spends a week learning his way around the thing. Annabeth thought he’d look ridiculous on such a big bike, especially one so elegant, but somehow it suits him to a T. She supposes it was made for him. He rides like it, too. He’s fallen hard and fast for the beauty, and honestly, so has she. Maybe one day she’ll make her own.
They leave it outside of camp- the second Leo claps eyes on it they’re never getting it back, and that’s not mentioning the Stolls- and they do a round to say their goodbyes. They don’t have much, so packing hardly takes long enough to even call it that. It’s not like they won’t be back.
Chiron isn’t surprised, not that they expected him to be. They need to get out. And Percy has a family to see again, batshit insane as they are. Still, the centaur can’t suppress a sigh with his understanding nod.
“Then I wish you the best of luck, my children, and a world of rest. I want to see you happy more than anything. Promise me you’ll call every week or two?”
Percy pulls the centaur in as best he can for a stab at a hug despite the height difference, and Annabeth rushes forward to join in.
“Of course, you silly man. We wouldn’t make it that long without hearing about how you and camp are,” she huffs, voice waveringly slightly. After all these years, it’s still hard to leave him.
“And you better not leave a thing out,” Percy adds firmly.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Chiron chuckles wetly. Annabeth nearly dies of shock when she realises his eyes are misty. He doesn’t try to hide it at all as they pull back, staring at them with an endlessly fond, watery look. “My children. You cannot comprehend how proud I am of you.”
Well, now they’re all crying. With a jolt, Annabeth realises they must be the oldest demigods he’s trained in a very, very long time.
They made it.
“Pshh, shut up,” Percy says, voice cracking. It makes them all laugh again.
After that they do their rounds, saying their farewells around camp, promising to call and be safe and all the rest, and they’re off.
Before they start driving, though, Percy makes a call.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Click.
“Dean.”
“Perce? That really you?”
Percy has to smile at his brother’s voice. He quit smoking a while back, but he seems to have kept the gravelly quality anyway, probably out of spite.
“Yeah. Dad’s not picking up. I guess he’s on a hunt.”
“He- yeah, he is.”
“…I’m out of the crossfire. Got a deal for ya. You listening?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll meet up with you. Gimme your location now, this is a burner, I’ll throw it out after this call. I’ll meet you. But you can’t ask about this job I was on, yeah?”
“…You’re serious?”
“Duh.”
Percy grins as Dean rattled off a location like he can’t get it out fast enough. Gods, he’s missed his brother.
“So I can’t ask at all about the job?” The undercover one?” Dean asks, finally processing Percy’s terms.
“Nope. It’s over now, it was a mess. Don’t really wanna talk about it. Not even to dad. I’ll come up with something…”
“Uh, about that, Percy…”
Dean’s tone makes Percy’s eyebrows pull together in concern. He exchanges a wary look with Annabeth.
“What, what is it?”
“…Dad’s missing.”