Demons, Demigods, and Winchesters (Supernatural/Percy Jackson)

11: Episode 13, Route 666

Percy needed a break from his motel room. The Winchesters had gone to sleep nearly two hours ago, and after he'd spent the first thirty minutes pacing around his own room in an attempt to tire himself out, Percy tossed and turned in bed for the remaining hour and a half. He wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon, so he figured he might as well get some fresh air. He stepped out of his room and wandered downstairs to the motel parking lot, standing at the curb and staring at the stars.

That is, until something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. On the opposite side of the second floor that he and the Winchesters were staying, there was a room with flashing lights. It was an all-too-familiar pattern of blinking: 3 short, 3 long, 3 short. SOS. Percy crept back up the stairs with Riptide uncapped in his hand and slowly approached the door. He knocked once...twice. There was no response, but the lights stopping flashing and remained on. Percy gently pushed the handle, found the door to be unlocked, and stepped into the room.

He dropped Riptide once the now open door revealed Sally Jackson with her hand resting on the lamp. She smiled at him—that same, familiar smile that always had him convinced he was invincible again.

"Mom," he breathed out, and the door shut behind him.

Letting go of the lamp, she made her way over to Percy and placed both hands on his cheeks. She'd lost the faint smell of flour that seemed to follow her everywhere.

"I knew you'd come," she spoke back, just as quietly. She studied his face for another moment or two before the smile slowly vanished from her own. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Percy frowned as he lifted a hand to rest against one of hers, but he didn't get a response before she disintegrated into dust right in front of him. His eyes widened frantically. "Mom?"

He stepped up to where she was just standing as if that'd give him any clue as to what had happened, but he just felt something drip on his arm. A dark, crimson dot was the culprit, and Percy's stomach dropped down to the first floor of the motel as he glanced upwards and caught sight of his mother restrained to the ceiling above him. Suddenly, Percy couldn't move. He was forced to stare at her lifeless eyes as she screamed, violent flames consuming her entire body.

Percy only regained his senses as the flames starting licking at his own skin, turning to sprint out the door. He threw it open by the handle and raced out into a black void, falling and falling until the walls around him started to take on an all-too-familiar dark and rocky look that Percy was forced to associate with endless falling like this. Only this time, he was completely alone.

Tartarus, he thought, just in time to splash into the River Cocytus that he knew was below him.

Percy's eyes shot open as soon as he made contact with the river, his breath coming out in loud gasps as the same motel room he'd just left earlier came back into his vision dimly. He took a brief moment to sit up and cough up a lung or two before stumbling barefoot out of bed and stepping out of his motel room, glancing across the way to stare at the room from his dreams. The lights were off, and the curtains were drawn shut. He couldn't drag his gaze away, though. If there was a chance—any chance—that his mother was in there, he couldn't miss it. Percy probably stood there for twenty minutes, staring at the empty motel room, before his brain finally caught up to him to remember what he'd just seen.

He let out a hopeless sigh, stepping backwards until his back made contact with the wall and then sliding down until he was sitting on the concrete. It was silent for a long moment as he considered his situation and where he was. And then for the first time in a long time, Percy buried his head in his knees and sobbed.

His mother wasn't there—wasn't alive for all he knew. Even when it was clear nobody else was on Percy's side, she never faltered, and he needed somebody on his side now more than ever. Gods, he'd never felt more alone. He hadn't spoken to anyone from camp in weeks, even Grover, who kept sending desperate calls through the empathy link that Percy promptly ignored every time. And now he was traveling with the Winchesters, his family that his mother apparently wanted him nowhere near. Still, there he was, disobeying her wishes in an attempt to find her and still failing. What was he meant to do when he was done with his search? He'd meant everything he told the Winchesters: his mother was all he had and he didn't know what he was supposed to do with his life.