The Search For John Winchester [REWRITE]

2) A Mother Gets Hugged to Death

Percy was decidedly disappointed with what they were doing. Sleeping in a bed at night was a luxury he did not take for granted, and to have that luxury so cruelly ripped away from him nearly made him weep, all for some wee little ghostie named Constance. Constant annoyance, more like, ruining his beauty sleep (not that he needed it).

"This won't take long," Dean repeated for what seemed like the twelfth time as Percy moped, trailing behind him as they walked up to the railing of the bridge, those watchful stars staring down at him with an indifferent gaze. "This is where Constance took the swan dive."

Percy wasn't sure if he was supposed to find that funny. It was hard to tell with Dean sometimes, when he found something genuinely funny or when he joked to cope with situations that stressed him out. Regardless of Dean's intentions, Percy didn't laugh, staring somberly into the water below.

When had he last gone swimming?

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asked, hands in his pockets as he looked around the bridge as if John would suddenly appear.

Dean shrugged. "Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him." He walked onward, leaving Percy to stare forlornly down into those depths he once would've looked to with hope.

Sam followed his brother, and Percy let them go. He could sense an argument coming, like a storm was somewhere off the horizon, waiting until they were most unprepared to strike them with turbulent winds and icy rain.

The last time he swam was Before. He taught little kids how to swim at New Rome. They'd paddled around him, smiling and laughing, and, in spite of the easy smile on his face, he'd been elated with the realization that the group of children before him were the great future; they were the ones who would one day take over and understand that being a son of Neptune didn't make you lesser. They would come to learn that having death in your blood didn't make you a monster or wisdom in your veins a freak. They'd see the people that had fought so hard to not just survive but thrive, and they'd know there was more to life than parentage.

She had been there. She studied at the edge of the pool, giving a lighthearted glare every time someone splashed water in her direction. She would smile at Percy with such light and life in her haunted eyes, and he would feel, momentarily, like the world was gone and it was just them, suspended in darkness, falling toward everything unknown together.

Then some kid would shriek as another splashed at them, and the moment would be broken.

"Does Jessica know the truth about you?" Percy heard Dean demand in spite of the distance. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are."

"And who's that?" Sam challenged, voice rising with barely controlled anger.

"You're one of us," Dean said simply. Us. What was us? Hunters? Sure, he was, whether he liked it or not, erasing such a past wasn't as easy as saying goodbye. Or was Dean saying he was one of the ones without. One of the ones with little to no future prospects beyond the scope of what beasties they could kill. One of the ones who didn't have a bed to call their own, friends you only saw when the going got rough, and dreams. Sam wasn't that.

Was Percy that?

Sam stood in front of Dean, looking tall and imposing. Percy thought about stepping in then thought better as the man said, "No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life."