Divine Water [Dean Winchester x Fem!Percy Jackson x Castiel]

2|When we met

Percy was off to search for the Winchesters but couldn't find the exact location of the elder brother. She had, however figured out that there was a student in Stanford by the name of Sam Winchester. Which is why she was now in Palo Alto, California. 

Her gut told her to wait and so she did and just as she was getting bored and wondering what to, she was visited by a few wolf friends who wanted to kill her. So, here she was; fighting ten werewolves at once and trying to hide her powers and keeping it cool. Just as she was about to use go all crazy on the three of them that were left, there was the sound of the first gunshot. The bullets that left the gun rained down on the werewolves, killing them for her.

Percy studied the wounds and hummed, impressed, putting her daggers back in their sheaths. She turned around to look at the one who helped her and felt her heart skip a beat.

There in front of her stood a dark blond man with beautiful green eyes with flecks of gold. Percy smiled, feeling respect for this man. He looked so familiar. 

She walked forward as did he, them meeting each other near his car, standing a feet apart from each other. 

"Thank you," Percy said, softly.

The man's eyes twinkled. "I don't know why you are thanking me, you didn't look like you needed help."

Percy let out a huff of laughter, making the man smile involuntarily. "Why did you help then?"

"You did look like you wanted it to be over," the man pointed out teasingly.

"Oh, I like you!" Percy admitted, grinning. "I'm Percy Jackson."

"I've heard about you. I'm Dean Winchester."

"I could say the same," Percy dismissed the praise. "You have hunted, as have I."

Percy reached out to grab the hand he had held out. Visions and flashes went through her mind, making her eyes widen even though she felt as if she was seeing the memories at the back of her eyelids. 

***

A small town American home on a small town American street. 

A warm, lighted yellow window, on the second floor showed a woman standing beside a crib. Mary Winchester was in her late 20's, gently beautiful in a genuine, maternal way. She helped her 4-year-old son, Dean lean over the crib's edge, Deanna in her arm. 

Dean kisses the baby's forehead. "Night, Sammy."

Mary leans over, kisses Sam as well. "Goodnight, love."

"Hey! Dean," John Winchester calls out from the doorway making the child's eyes brighten. 

"Daddy," he exclaimed running to his father. 

"Hey, buddy," John grunts, lifting Dean of the ground. 

"What do you think? Sam is ready to toss around the football?"

"No daddy," Dean said sternly as Deanna giggled at her father's sheepish face. 

"No?"

"You got him?" Mary asked her husband.

"I got him," he confirmed. "Sweat dreams, Sam, Anna."

Dean ran to Sam's nursery from Deanna's room and hid behind the door after hearing his mother's scream. He slowly looked up as his gut told while his father watched after his brother. Tears gathered on the four year old's eyes as he slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming. On the ceiling, lay Mary; impossibly splayed out, as if it were the floor. Eyes wide open, glassy. Dead. 

Dean whimpered—his voice so small, not even heard by his anguished father. He was looking for something, somewhere. In himself. She needed help.

Mary's body smoldered and ignites, flames curled the wallpaper, spreading fast. A smoke alarm blares, piercing. Outside, in the hallway, Dean pushed open the nursery door, crying, terrified. "Mommy?! Daddy?!"

Snapping to lucidity at his elder son's voice, John snatches Sam from his crib and carried out of the room. He hands the baby to Dean, not letting him speak. Taking him away from another burning room. 

"But Ann," Dean protested.

John shook his head. "It's too late. Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back! Now, Dean! Go." 

Dean quickly darted for the stairs and sighed when seeing Deanna looking at the shades of the fire in awe. He kissed her forehead, grabbed her and ran out of the house.

"It's okay, Sammy," he comforted the crying child as he watched the house burn. Deanna was in his arms too, quite and watching. Almost feeling. Fire illuminating their expressions, reflecting in their eyes. Dean's jaw set in pain and sadness, tears gathering in his eyes.

***

Dean gasped as he saw his memories reflect in Percy's eyes. He had never told anyone how much he remembered of the night their mother died, and yet he felt no anger towards the girl who had unknowingly invaded his memories. He felt as if he could trust her, more than he had ever trusted anyone.

He quickly stabled the girl by her shoulders as she pulled her hand back, stumbling and breathing heavily. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What are you?" he asked, taking his hands back to his sides.

"Can't tell," said Percy. "Sorry."

"That's okay, stop saying that." Dean shrugged. "I don't know why, but I trust you."

"Yeah," Percy smiled a bit, eyes drooping in exhaustion. "Me, too."

Her eyes snapped open, wide as she comprehended what she just said. The words ran through her mind over and over. She leaned against the Winchester's car, looking at her reflection, panting. 

Dean Winchester was dangerous;
and it was terrifying.
No-one could gain her loyalty in five minutes.

Percy feared it, but her fear she had to face. 

She swallowed and turned to Dean. "I can't give you all the details, but I'll explain as much as I can. I have a mission and I can only complete it with your help and I'll help you with your stuff, so...you have place for another on your road-trip?"

"You can tell me everything whenever you are ready." Dean nodded. "Let's do this. Get in the car and I'll tell what's going on."

Percy smiled and hopped into the passenger seat. "Nice car!"

Dean's face broke into a grin.