Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dean slammed on the break, swerving clear off the two lane blacktop into a field of tall grass. He threw open his door, barely pausing to snatch his pistol from the passenger seat, and spun toward the figure in the road. For a second, they were blurry. Out of focus. Like his eyes couldn’t figure out what they were seeing and weren’t sending the signals to his brain correctly. Then, the scene solidified. A monster and a young girl. 

He couldn’t tell what kind of monster. One second it looked like a wendigo, the next he could have sworn he saw scales, was that a tail? It didn’t matter. It was a monster if he’d ever seen one, and it was bearing down on a kid no older than 10. He raised his gun and fired. Unsurprisingly, the bullet passed right through without so much as drawing blood. God, why couldn’t any of them just go down easy? But the shot did have one effect on the creature. It turned to him and snarled. Dean figured that was good enough. He made a better target than the girl. 

It charged him, snarling, and he fired another shot into its face. This time it reacted, more in frustration than pain but reacted nonetheless, by shaking its head like a bug had just landed on its hair. Losing balance in the process and allowing Dean to dodge to the side and shoulder check it onto the ground. He fired two more shots just to be safe, before rushing forward. Toward the girl. His only plan was to scoop her up, get her in the impala, and bolt. He could come back for the creature. As he got close to her, he noticed she was holding something toward him. A knife, hilt facing him. Her eyes were big, scared, and pleading. Not sure what else to do, he thought, what the hell. He grabbed the knife.

The monster was fast, already on its feet and hot on his heels by the time he turned around. He put an arm out beside him, blocking the girl, and slashed at the creature with the knife. It dodged the blow, but it looked scared now. He swiped again, and this time the creature knocked his arm to the side and made a desperate reach toward the kid. Anger made Dean's vision flash red, he redoubled his efforts in the fight. Hooking the monster's arm in his own, he twisted until he heard a snap . The thing screamed, a horrible ear-splitting sound. Not as bad as the one it made when he sunk the dagger into its heart a moment later. 

The corpse disintegrated in his grasp, scattering as gold dust in the wind. He didn’t have the time or energy to question it. He turned to the girl, who still looked scared but had something else in her eyes too. Something calculating. “You saw it.”

Dean glanced back to the pile of dust, “kind of hard to miss.”

“Are you like me?” She asked tentatively

Confused, he replied, “uh, maybe?”

“Are you a halfblood?” She asked more steadily, an annoyed edge creeping into her voice.

“Half what?”

“A halfblood.” She stressed, irritated. 

“No… I’m, full-blood…?” He stumbled, trying to make the conversation make sense in his head. Quickly, though, his mind caught up to him. He had more important worries right now than whatever this kid meant. “Full, red-blooded American, who’s gotta get you someplace safe. Where are your parents?”

Her expression saddened, then soured a millisecond later, like she couldn't make up her mind over whether to be upset or pissed. She crossed her arms and didn't reply.

“Ok, touchy subject.” He surmised, “Guardians? Older siblings? Anyone i can take you to?”

“No one who would care.” She muttered.

Deans heart broke a little at her tone. Dark, sad, and hurt for sure but the worst part was the resignation. This wasn't a new thing for the poor girl. If he had to guess, he’d say she's known that for a while. He glanced around quickly, checking for more monsters or other cars, before crouching down to be eye level with her. “Well, I can't just leave you in the middle of the road. It isn't safe. You got a name, kid?”

She hesitated, he suspected the whole don't-talk-to-strangers thing might be kicking in. Although he wondered if anyone had cared enough to teach her that. After a moment, she quietly replied, “Annabeth.”

He smiled, stuck out his hand for a handshake. “Nice to meet you, Annabeth. I’m dean. I’m someone who cares. Now, let’s get you back to town. We’ll figure things out from there. Sound good?”

She shook his hand, nodded, then held her other hand out with her palm up, “That’s mine.” 

Dean furrowed his brow, before remembering the knife in his other hand. He hadn't been planning on taking it, but didnt think to hand the weapon back to a literal child, even if he had gotten it from her. He couldn't help but chuckle as he passed it back, “Nothing gets past you.”

They climbed into the impala and Dean maneuvered it back onto the road. Annabeth was sat stiffly in the passenger seat very unsubtly watching him in her periphery. He couldn't tell if he was proud of the kid for not fully trusting some random ass dude she’d just met, or sad that she learned not to trust people at such a young age. Jesus, what had this kid been through? “How old are you, anyway?”

He hadnt meant to ask, at least not so bluntly and out of the blue. She startled at the sudden question. He almost apologized, but before he could she sat up a little straighter and said, “Seven.” with a bite in her tone, almost like a challenge. A dare to make a comment. 

“Seven?” He replied as neutrally as he could.

“Uh-huh.”

“Second grade?” He asked.

She shook her head, “First.”

First grade. Seven years old. No parents, or at least none to speak of. World-wary already with that damn look in her eyes, like she's so used to watching her back and clocking every movement around her in case it turns into an attack. Barely even phased by that monster back there. Scared, sure, but not shocked or surprised or pee-your-pants terrified like a normal kid would be. What had she called herself, back there?

“So tell me, kid,” He started, casually, “What’s a halfblood?”

“If you don’t know, I shouldn’t tell you.” She said cryptically.

“If you don’t tell me, how will I know?” He shot back easily

“You’d know.” She replies, “if you were one, you’d know by now. They would tell you.”

“So… you only get to know what it is if you are one.” What kind of cult shit was this? “Ok, riddler, tell me this. What was that thing back there?”

Her cheeks went pink, she reluctantly admitted, “I don’t know. Yet.”

“Yet?”

“I’ll find out!” She insisted, “I always do. I just have to find a library, first. I’ll find out.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He assured lightly. The girl was a minefield of touchy subjects. Every other word out of his mouth either made her sad or pissed her off. She reminded him a little of Sam when he was around her age, right around when he started realizing something was off but before he knew the truth, always ready to call someone out and pick a fight but just as likely to be hiding tears afterwards. A few mile markers passed by in silence while Dean thought of something to say that might cheer her up. “Do you go to the library a lot?”

Annabeth nodded, smiling, “yeah. It’s free, and they don’t kick you out for loitering.”

Dean wanted to smack himself. Alone in the middle of the night, no parents, of course. The kid was sleeping rough. Dean remembered a few nights like that when he was younger, when they’d run out of the cash his dad left them and he couldn’t sweet talk or guilt trip the motel manager into letting them stay. The first time, when Dean was 14 and Sammy was 10, the library had been Sam’s idea. 

Dean wanted to head straight to the local bar and hustle pool until they had enough to buy their room back. Sam was the one to point out it was noon, and pouring rain. They needed someplace dry to wait until the bar got busy enough that Dean actually had a shot in hell of making enough cash. The library was alright. It had central heating, which was a huge plus, and the old lady librarians didn’t care when they set themselves up at a table in the back corner and didn’t touch a single book. Well, Dean didn’t. Sam tried to read a few times, but he was too nervous about their situation to focus. 

He decided to tell her that story. It wasn't exactly a great memory, but he kept it light by focusing on teasing his brother over being a nerd and later conning five drunk guys out of their week's wage. The story had the effect he hoped for. Annabeth slowly relaxed the more into the tale he got. She opened up more, laughing at his jokes and asking a few questions. By the time he was done she even volunteered a story of her own. She talked about a diner back when she was still in Virginia, months ago, whose owner used to let her come by at closing and would give her any food they had left behind. 

“I was really sad when the giant scorpion found it.” She admitted at the end, “I was too scared to go back.” 

“Giant scorpion?” Dean echoed, “How giant, like over a foot long?” 

She shook her head vehemently, “No! Like, bigger than you!” 

He got a sinking feeling in his gut. “So a monster.”

“Duh.” She replied with far more sass than a 7 year old should be allowed to have.

“Jeez, kid. Are you some kind of monster magnet?” 

He said it as a joke. He thought that was obvious, of course this kid wasnt attracting monsters, that didn't happen unless you were some major league hunter or something. She just had bad enough luck to stumble into the paths of two of them. It's as simple as that. Five more miles and they’d be back in town, he would drop her off at the police station or something, they’d call CPS, and she’d be set. What were the odds of a third monster happening across her? 

“Yes.” She answered with such certainty that he second guessed himself.

He glanced her way, waiting for her to smile or giggle, give some sign that she was joking. But no. She met his eyes steadily with a grim expression that didn't sit right on her young features. There was a question he knew he had to ask, but he found himself scared of the answer. “How many monsters have you come across?” 

She tilted her head, thinking hard. The longer she took to answer, the heavier Deans heart grew. Eventually, she replied, “I’m not sure. I lost count a while ago. 10, maybe? 15?” She shrugged, “It used to be one every year-ish, but there’ve been more since I left home. And even more when i was with…” 

She trailed off. Dean was too preoccupied to catch her on it, because his brain was working on overdrive to figure out how the living hell this poor little girl had survived 10 monster attacks. “Are you a hunter's kid?”

The confused look she shot him was answer enough, but his suspicions were confirmed when she replied, “Like, deer hunting?” 

“Nevermind.” He said quickly. God, this was getting more complicated by the second. 

After a beat of silence, she piped up in a small voice. “Are you… When we get to town, are you gonna leave me behind?”

I was planning on it , his mind provided, but he stopped himself from saying that. Truth was, his plans of leaving her for the local PD to sort out got thrown out the window as soon as she called herself a Half-blood. He’d been trying to fool himself into thinking he could drop her off and be done with it. Mixing that with the monster from tonight, and the apparent string of them in her past, meant only one thing. Whatever ‘halfbloods’ were, they were definitely supernatural. Which put it above the cops pay grade. 

Still, he wasn't about to kidnap this kid. If she wanted to stay in town then she could. If she wanted to stay with him, then he would figure out a way to make that happen. He relayed that to her, trying to sound more sure of himself than he felt.

Instantly, she replied, “Take me with you.”

Any other day, he’d be worried about what we’re teaching our kids these days. He hadn't even offered her candy and she was already agreeing to go god knows where with a stranger. Then again, she’d apparently survived facing down 10+ creepy-crawlies. She was probably just betting she could take care of herself if anything went aerie. Privately, he promised she would never have to fend for herself again. 

When did he get so protective of this kid?

“Ok.” Dean agreed easily. He spotted the exit that would lead them back into town, and passed it by. They filled the drive with inane conversation, small talk, just the regular get-to-know-you crap. As regular as you could get between a 26 year old monster hunter and a 7 year old monster magnet. He wasn't really sure where he was going, where to go, but he had a full tank of gas so he just kept going. Driving aimlessly on autopilot was something he's been used to since he learned to drive, at 14 with his first ever fake ID. 

He hadn't realized where his muscle memory was taking him until, three hours after picking her up, he turned down a familiar gravel driveway lined with old beater cars on either side. The run down house he remembered so well came into view ahead of them. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. Bobby was gonna be pissed at being woken up at the asscrack of dawn. 

Annabeth watched the house warily through the window, like it was about to come to life and attack her. “Where are we?” 

“An old friend’s.” Dean replied. They got out of the car and approached the door, and sure enough knocking brought no answer. Suddenly a little reluctant, Dean pulled out his phone. He knew the number by heart but he hadn't dialed it in years. He punched in the numbers, pressed send, and took a deep breath while he listened to it ring.

Click! The ringing was cut off, replaced with a gruff, tired voice asking, “Who in the samhell is calling at 5 in the morning?” 

“Good to hear from you too, Bobby.” Dean quipped lightly.

“Dean?” Bobby’s voice was clearer, now, as if startled out of the last remnants of sleep, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He replied, not really sure he believed it, and not managing to keep that uncertainty from his voice like he’d meant to. It was hard for him to hide anything from Bobby. Even after so long away. Dean cast a glance at Annabeth, who was watching him with a knowing expression. Damn, the kid was perceptive. He cleared his throat and tried harder to sound put together, to not give her more reasons to be worried. “I should have called ahead, but I'm actually outside right now with… Well, it’ll be easier to explain in person. Mind letting us in?” 

Bobby was quiet for a moment, then breathed out a tired curse, before finally responding, “Gimme a minute.”

It was more like five, but pretty soon the creaking front door was wrenched open revealing the familiar face of Bobby Singer. He met Dean's eyes first, annoyance clear on his face but just as visible was the happiness underneath. Dean didn't have to wonder why that was there. He’d missed the old drunk, too.

Then, Bobby caught sight of the tiny blonde figure currently half-hiding behind Dean's leg. His expression morphed into pure shock. He cut his eyes back up to dean, who couldn't do more than shrug in the moment, then back to the kid. For her part, she was inching further behind Dean by the second. He glanced back and smiled reassuringly, “Annabeth, this is my uncle Bobby. He used to take care of my brother and i when we were your age.” 

She watched both of them closely for a few seconds longer before creeping out from her hiding spot and shyly saying, “Hi.”

“Hey, kid.” Bobby greeted, still fairly stunned. Wordlessly, he moved out of the way and let them pass through into the Kitchen. Annabeth went ahead, and Bobby grabbed Dean's arm. “She’s not yours , is she?”

“No!” Dean refuted, lowering his voice so the kid wouldn't overhear, “I get around, sure, but I'm more careful than that Bobby!” 

“Well I don't know! You show up here with a kid out of nowhere, what was i supposed to think?” He demanded.

Dean sighed, unable to argue the point, “Look, it's a long story, and I don't even know half of it. I just found her tonight and there's something going on, she's in trouble, and she's got no one else to help her out. I had to do something .”

“So you brought her here?” Bobby replied, but some of the heat had dissipated from his tone. 

With a considerable amount of effort, Dean managed to quietly admit, “I didn't know where to go.”

That took the wind out of his sails instantly. Bobby’s angry expression melted, his eyes softening, “Fine. Get your ass inside.” To anyone else, his words would have sounded just as harsh as before. Dean, though, he could hear the underlying meaning behind it. You can always come here.

Annabeth had found a seat at the rickety old kitchen table, which was really a fold-out card table that Bobby had permanently stationed in the corner with a few cheap chairs. She’d been in there a few minutes on her own, but she looked like she’d just sat down. She was purposely turned away from the door when they came in. That same knowing look on her face when she met Dean's eye, before she quickly looked away again, made him think she’d just been eavesdropping on their conversation. He decided not to call her on it. Instead, he took a seat opposite her.

Bobby, now having his wits about him a little more, was quick to ask, “When’s the last time you ate, kid?”

Annabeth had to think about it, which was enough of a red flag to have Bobby halfway to the fridge before she even spoke, “Wednesday.”

It was Saturday. Dean wasn't sure his heart would keep beating through the night, if she kept breaking it like this. Bobby dug through his refrigerator, producing a covered container of leftover chicken stir fry and fixing her a plate. She watched it spin in the microwave like if she blinked it would disappear. As soon as he set the food in front of her, she scarfed it down. 

Bobby shot Dean an expectant look, and Dean jumped into an abridged recap of everything that had happened early in the night. Annabeth chimed in a few times, inputting the details that dean lacked. Apparently, the monster had been on her tail all day but she’d managed to dodge it, for the most part. She described it in much more vivid detail than Dean had been able to see, which he chalked up to her having seen it in the daylight before. “Ever seen anything like it?” Dean asked. Bobby shook his head. Dean continued, “Well apparently they like to chow down on, what did you call yourself again, annabeth?”

“A Halfblood.” 

Recognition flashed across Bobby’s face, “Now that I have heard of.” 

“Really?” Dean replied, but the older man was already heading into the living room before he could get the word out. He scanned the bookshelves, packed to bursting with dusty ancient tomes of paranormal knowledge, before pulling out the one he was looking for and returning to the table. He plopped it down and flipped through the pages, landing on supposedly the one he wanted. Dean had no clue. Whatever language the writing was in, it was all Greek to him.

Scratch that, it was Greek. Bobby pointed to a passage and started translating for their benefit, “‘Wearing the invulnerable lions hide for armor, Heracles, the half blooded , returned triumphant to the palace of Eurystheus.’” 

“Heracles?” Dean echoed, incredulous.

“That's just one example,” Bobby continued, “This book’s full of them. Powerful ancient sons of bitches with abilities beyond any other mortal. Basically, human +. They’ve had different names over the years. Half Blood, divine hero, godling, but the most common one is demigod.” 

Dean raised an eyebrow, pointing at Annabeth, “You’re trying to tell me she's a demigod.”

“I am.” She interrupted pointedly. She crossed her arms with an angry pout, which made her look even younger and incidentally undermined the point she was trying to make. 

Rather than point that out and piss her off further, Dean turned his focus to the issue at hand, “Ok, so you’re a demigod. What does that mean? Monsters just keep coming after you for the rest of your life?”

“Pretty much.” She replied.

Bobby expanded, “According to the lore, certain breeds of monsters can sniff out a half-blood from miles away. Not all of them, in fact most of the ones we deal with on the regular dont give a rats ass whether your half-blood or not, they’ll eat whatever they can catch. But this kind are picky eaters. They damn near exclusively snack on demigods.” 

Dean glanced at Annabeth. It didn't feel right to be talking so blatantly about all this with her sitting right there. She was 7 years old and Bobby basically just told her there were hundreds of nightmare-fuel creatures hell bent on eating her. She didn't seem phased, though. In fact she was nodding along, like she already knew all of this. When he asked whether someone had explained it before she shook her head, saying she’d put it together a while ago. 

“My mom’s Athena.” She added, like that explained everything.

In a way, it did. “That's the goddess of wisdom, right?” He clarified.

“Yep!” She confirmed proudly. He resisted the urge to ask where the fuck she was in all this, not wanting to chase away the spark of happiness in her eyes. Instead, he pulled Bobby into the study to figure out a game plan. CPS was out of the picture. Civilians weren’t cut out to handle this shit. Her human dad was out, too, after Dean relayed the whole ‘no one cares’ thing annabeth had said earlier. Besides, if she was constantly being chased by monsters, she wouldn't be safe with a regular guy even if that guy is her dad. 

The only reasonable option they had was for her to live with a hunter or someone hunter-adjacent. They would be able to keep her safe and teach her to protect herself when she got older. But Dean couldn't take her with him. As much as he defended John and all the choices he made, he could admit that a life on the road sucked for a kid. No stability, no support, minimal comfort. It wasn't a great set up. 

Before either of them could even suggest it outright, Bobby started brainstorming aloud about how to kid-proof his place again. What kind of supplies he’d have to buy. How to explain the situation to local schools and all that. Later on, Dean would marvel at how easily Bobby slipped back into the mindset of taking care of a child. He would wonder if Bobby was always ready to take in a kid that needed a place to stay, or if that was a trend he and Sammy started years ago. Vaguely, he would wonder why Bobby never had any kids of his own.

But in the moment, he was just thankful to have him around. They went back into the kitchen to explain the plan to Annabeth, and found her fully engrossed in the book they’d left in front of her. Bobby raised an eyebrow. 

Dean asked, “You can read Greek?” 

She looked up with wide eyes, pushing the book away like she was in trouble. Before Dean could assure her she wasn’t, Bobby said dumbfounded, “that’s not just Greek, ya idjit. That’s Minoan Greek. It’s over 3000 years old! Who taught you to read that, kid?”

“No one.” She answered shyly.

“You taught yourself?” He asked.

Annabeth shrugged, “I've never seen it before. It just, sorta, makes sense? It doesn’t get all jumbled like most words do.” 

“Well, you’ll have plenty of reading material here, then.” Dean commented lightly. He was already starting to get used to this weird kid and her strange tendencies. Bronze monster killing dagger? Sure. Demigod? Alright. Reads ancient greek? Why not! At this point he’d be shocked if there was anything she couldn't do. 

Her eyes went as wide as saucers, looking back and forth between them for several long seconds. Dean grinned. Eventually, she managed to squeak out, “I can stay?” 

“Of course you can.” Bobby grunted, as if it were obvious, “Can’t exactly let a little girl fend for herself on the streets. You’re, what, 9?”

“7.” Annabeth, and dean, answered in unison. She giggled to herself over it. 

Bobby shook his head silently, lips curling into a half smile, before he turned to leave the room. “I’ll go make up the guest room for you. Dean, you’re on the couch tonight.” 

“I’d have a better night's sleep in my Baby outside.” He shot back, fake annoyed. He cast an exaggeratedly disgusted look at the lumpy, dust covered sofa in the living room. It had the desired effect, because Annabeth laughed quietly. Once they got her settled in for the night, he and Bobby talked over the logistics of the situation a little while longer before getting a few hours of shuteye themselves. 

Bobby grabbed Dean an extra pillow and blanket, and he did his best to get comfortable enough to sleep. He was mostly unsuccessful. The couch was old, and worn out, and about a foot too short so his feet stuck out over the end. However, when he stopped tossing and turning and just looked around the room, taking in all the little things that hadn’t changed since he was a teenager, he felt more at ease than he had in years. More safe and comfortable than in any motel room, in the backseat of his impala, anywhere. There was just something about this place. It felt like coming home. 

Dean stayed in town the next day, getting everything sorted that needed sorted. He made a grocery run first thing. He may have forgotten to ask Annabeth what kind of food she liked, and may have gotten enough to feed a small army of children between the ages of 5 and 17, but who cares? It was all being charged to Hector Aframian, anyways. When he got back, Bobby was explaining to Annabeth where he kept all the weapons and to not go near them without permission. Dean remembered the speech from when he and Sammy first came by. Of course, they already knew how to use almost everything in Bobby’s arsenal by then, but it was the thought that counted. 

Around midday, Dean took Annabeth to the local clothing store so they could finally get her some clothes that actually fit. And that she actually liked. She told him the only clothes she had on her were what she took from home, and apparently her step-mom never got her input on what they bought. Resulting in a lot of very very girly outfits, powder pink and lavender almost exclusively, and she hated them with a burning passion. She picked out a lot of yellow, orange, and red toned t-shirts, and some pairs of jeans. Her sneakers had so many holes it was a miracle they hadn't completely fallen apart yet, so they got her a new pair of those too. 

While they were gone, Bobby called the local public school and spoke to someone about admissions. He claimed she was his niece who had moved in with him suddenly because of some emergency with her biological parents. They’d been expecting a lot more resistance than they actually came across. For some reason, the secretary and the principal both believed the story at face-value. As if there was something clouding their judgment and common sense. They almost took that as a sign to look for a different school, one with staff that didn't seem as indifferent or high, until Annabeth explained that stuff like that just happens around her. Usually it doesn't happen in her favor, but this time it was definitely working for her rather than against. Although she wasn't exactly pleased with the idea of going back to school.

After dinner, Dean packed up the impala. Annabeth sat at the window watching him do it. When he came in to say goodbye, she glared and ran upstairs. After exchanging a brief look with Bobby, Dean followed. He found her sitting on the bed in the guest room. Or rather, in her room, now. She hadn't closed the door behind her but he knocked on the doorframe anyway. She turned away from him with her arms crossed. “Can i come in?” 

She shrugged.

With a sigh, Dean took a seat on top of the dresser in front of her. She refused to meet his eyes, but he could see the glossy look that was starting to take up residence in them. “Annabeth, I can’t stay here. I'm sorry.” 

“Why not?” She asked, clearly aiming for defiant but coming out watery with unshed tears.

“I have a job to do.” He explained patiently, “You know how i mentioned hunting yesterday? Well, that’s what i do. I hunt monsters. And i can't exactly do that from Bobby’s kitchen table. But this isn't goodbye, kid. It's more like… See you later.” 

She sniffed, faking nonchalance, “So you’re coming back?”

“Absolutely.” He replied.

“If you say so.” She mumbled, dejectedly. 

“Annabeth, can you look at me?” He ducked his head to meet her eyes, but she looked away instead. He tried again, “Annabeth.”

A stint of silence settled between them. Annabeth must have gotten the hint that he wasn't going to continue until she met his eyes, so she did. Tears were starting to roll down her cheeks now. She brushed at them in annoyance. Dean put as much sincerity into his voice as he possibly could, “I will come back, ok? I promise. I don't make those lightly, and I definitely don't break them. So I promise this is not the last time we will see each other. You can't scare me off that easily.” 

Something flashed across her eyes. Like she’d just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He half-smiled. He’d guessed that was the root of all this, and judging by her reaction he was correct. That's why she kept asking if she could stay, acting all surprised when they said yes, looking ashamed or scared whenever they found out new not-so-normal things about her. She was scared they were going to get freaked out and abandon her. 

That calculating look creeped back in, and she watched his expression closely for any hint of a lie. He didn't falter. Eventually, she held out a hand and, with a level of sincerity only a child could have, said, “Pinky promise.” 

He couldn't help but chuckle as he obliged, “Pinky promise.” 

Afterwards, he went downstairs and found Bobby waiting in the entryway with a newspaper clipping in hand. “Found you a case out in New Orleans, if you're interested.” He said by way of greeting.

Dean took the article and read it over quickly. Three vics, all different but equally impossible causes of death, strange animal remains found at all the scenes. Sounded witchy. He stuffed it in his back pocket, nodding, “Thanks. I’ll check it out.”

“Alright. Well, don't be a stranger, you hear?” Bobby replied, casually as he could. Dean saw right through it, of course. He knew just how much Bobby had missed him, and Sammy, and hell maybe even john. They’d been so close for so long that years of radio silence just didn't sit right. He would never say that out loud, though. They both had their pride to maintain. 

So, out loud, he offered the same sentiment he just gave Annabeth, “Can't get rid of me that easily. I’ll check in, maybe stop by sometime, see how the kids holding up. See if she’s sick of you yet.”

Bobby half laughed, half scoffed, “Yeah alright, jackass, like youre so much easier to get along with.” 

“What are you talking about?” Dean retorted, “I’m a joy to be around.”

Bobby held the door open for him, “Keep telling yourself that. Drive safe.”

Chapter Text

So Annabeth might be a little paranoid, sitting at the kitchen window for two hours going over worst-case scenarios. Sue her. She’s had a rough go. It’s not for the reasons most would guess, looking at the life she lived. She wasnt watching for monsters, of greek origin or otherwise. She wasnt on the lookout for Child Services, called by a well meaning teacher about the little girl living in a junkyard with her alcoholic ‘uncle.’ It wasnt even for anything particularly scary. According to anyone other than her, that is. 

Two hours ago, Bobby called Annabeth downstairs to give her some good news. Great news, in fact. Dean was coming to visit! She always looked forward to his visits. Phone check-in’s just werent the same as seeing the man right in front of her, getting to talk face to face, eating a meal together. He even drove her to school sometimes. She knew he was busy, but ever since he picked her up nearly two years before, he always made time to come see her. Bobby complained that he liked annabeth better than him, every time he dropped by. It was always a good time. 

Her good mood was soured instantly when Bobby dropped his other ‘good’ news. Dean’s brother was coming, too. 

Annabeth had never met the guy. Dean and Bobby talked about him a lot but, especially when she first moved in, they always used past tense. It made dean sad, sometimes. She eventually learned that Sam had gone to college, and decided to completely cut off his closest and only living relatives, who clearly loved and missed and needed him. Annabeth had been close to hating him already just based on that. Then, dean called a little less than a year ago. In his own words, Sammy was back on the job. He sounded so happy about it. There was something heavier underneath it that she couldnt name, but the smile could be heard in every syllable. You might be thinking, huh, if sam has been back almost a year, why hasnt she met him yet?  

Well, therein lies the issue. Because in that almost-a-year, Dean has visited a total of one, count ‘em, one time. And only because he and Sam had split up after some argument and Dean happened to be right outside of Sioux Falls. He still called all the time, to check on her or just to talk. It wasnt the same, though. That first year? He visited every other month, at minimum . Annabeth had only two theories as to what caused the change in behavior. 

1. Sam was a Jackass, a word she learnt from Bobby, and wouldnt let dean visit.

      2. Dean had his real little sibling ba-

Dean forgot about her-

Dean didnt need her anymor-

Dean didnt want -

Deep breath. She was a child of Wisdom, she couldnt let emotion cloud judgment. Its a theory, its gotta be stated clearly, factually. Deep breath. 

2.   Dean only needs one little sibling. Now that he has sam, he doesnt need her. 

It was pretty obvious which one she was hoping for, but her data wasnt backing it up. When she was little, her family was just her and her dad, then her step mom came in and stole that. When she finally thought she found a family of her own, on the streets of virginia, someone came along and stole that too. Now shes got a family with Dean and Bobby, and someone new just dropped in. She didnt like the outlook. 

Another hour passed before the familiar car pulled down the drive. Despite her nerves, excitement bubbled up inside her chest. She couldnt stop herself from bolting out into the yard, tackling Dean in a hug as soon as his car door shut. He grunted from the impact, exaggerating how winded he was from a tiny 9 year old barroling into him. “Hey, kid. Miss me?” 

She pulled away, trying to make her expression neutral, but her smile couldn’t be contained. Still, she shoved him away lightly, “Not really.” 

“Yeah, alright.” He dismissed with a laugh, “You just run full-speed out to hug every Tom, Dick, and Harry who drops by.” 

“Maybe i do. You dont know.” She argued back for the sake of it, but the joking mood died when she caught sight of the giant climbing out the passenger side. Her smiled wavered, eyes narrowing. She asked, on principle, “Who’s that?”

Dean blinked at her, “My baby brother. I told you he was coming, remember?”

“Guess i forgot.” She replied icily. With that, she spun on her heel and headed back inside. The guy didnt look like a jackass. But Bobby still refused to tell her exactly what a jackass was, so maybe she just didnt know what to look for. Either way, the reunion didnt feel quite as warm and fuzzy anymore. 

“Woah, speed racer, wait for us!” Dean called after her, confusion mixing with humor, making the joke fall flat. 

Bobby glanced up from his book as she plopped herself down on the couch, “They here yet, Annie?” 

“Yep.” She confirmed, snatching her book off the coffee table. Bobby got it for her birthday, its one of the few books in the house not about monsters or magic. One of the even fewer she could read without the letters getting all mixed up. A beginner’s guide to Grecian architecture in Mycenaean Greek. She’d read it four times already. 

In her periphery, she saw Bobby raise an eyebrow in her direction, before his attention was drawn to the brothers in the entryway. It was easy to let herself be absorbed into the history of ancient greek structures while the boys pulled Bobby into the kitchen to talk. Normally she’d be more inclined to follow them, or listen at the door if they didnt let her into the room. But when she looked over and saw Sam looming in the doorway, his serious expression mirrored by the others, she couldnt do more than scowl at him and turn back to the page. It wasnt long before the brothers headed back outside and Bobby approached her. His eyebrows were furrowed, the corners of his mouth tilted down a notch, “Kid, put the book down. We gotta talk.” 

It was a whirlwind from that moment on. Bobby explained as best he could in the limited time he had, but most of the details still didnt make their way to her until long after the whole fiasco was over with. All she knew for sure, in the moment, was that something bad had happened to Dean’s dad. They were trying to fix it, but they insisted on sending her ‘someplace safe’ while they did. Thats why a friend of Bobby’s was on his way to pick her up. She started to argue against it, but she’d never seen Bobby look so serious before. It threw her off. She found herself nodding, packing a bag for the weekend, and not long after, climbing into the Ford pick-up of yet another man she’d heard of but hadnt met. Rufus Turner wasnt exactly a den mother, but he was nice enough once you looked past all his rough edges. 

She didnt particularly care if he was nice or not. She hardly said a word as the days passed too slow and too quick at the same time. She felt on edge in a way she hadnt since living on the streets. Waiting by the phone, praying to her mom that they would call, that they were safe, were ok, and Dean would come pick her up before sunset. She didnt even know what they were facing, but she knew two days with no contact was not a good sign. 

Then Bobby finally called, and she found herself wishing he hadnt. It wasnt good news. They were alive, but the winchesters had been in a car accident and dean… Dean wasnt waking up. Annabeth didnt remember the rest of the conversation. Distantly, she thought she heard bobby ask if she wanted to see him in the hospital. Vaguely, she heard herself say no. And continue to, over and over and over. 

“No.”

“Just think about it, kid.”

“No.”

“He’d want to see you.”

“No.”

“Listen, Annie, i know it’s scary but-”

“ No! ” 

She hung up the phone with so much force it almost broke off the wall. It started to ring again soon, but she couldnt answer. Couldnt bear to hear him again. Talking as if Dean was going to die in that hospital. She ran to the other end the cabin. After a minute of ringing, she heard Rufus answer. “Way to go, Bobby, you made the kid cry.” 

She raised a hand to her cheek, surprised when it came away wet.

A pause, then a sigh, “Damn… What’d the doctors say?....... Man, going out to a car wreck on a demon hunt. What’re the odds…. You sure?..... Yeah, ok, i’ll watch the kid for a few more days. Give her time to calm down.” 

Those ‘few more days’ were spent in a haze, staring at the walls of Rufus’ cabin, alternating between praying and cursing her mother. She asked her to keep them safe. A coma was pretty freakin’ far from safe, mother! Di Imortales, Annabeth was starting to wonder if her mom even bothered to hear her prayers. Luke and Thalia’s dads hadnt. 

She shut that train of thought down real quick. 

Bobby called every day with updates. She always left Rufus to answer him. Sometimes, if there was a development, he would pass the message along. They were few and far between, though. At least he’s not getting any worse , she told herself. Dean was going to be ok. He had to be. He made her a promise. “I will come back, ok?” Dean wasnt going to leave her, not like this, he couldnt. 

She blamed Sam. The man waltzed in out of nowhere, years after he abandoned his brother, and he got him hurt. It must be his fault, because dean was a hero. Dean was strong, and kind, and selfless, and now he was hurt, and sick, and defenseless. It didnt add up. Sam was the outlier, he was the new variable. Sam came back and he hurt dean.

“Hey, kid. Theres a call for you.” Rufus’ voice cut through her thoughts.

“I dont want to talk to Bobby.” She said for what felt like the millionth time.

Rufus shook his head, “This is something you need to hear.”

He held the phone out to her without another word. She reluctantly reached out, ignoring the slight shake of her hand, and brought it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Annabeth.” Dean . She felt a whole new wave of tears well up in her eyes. He was alive . He sounded tired, but he was talking! He was ok. He told her as much in that same exhausted drawling voice, similar to the time she forgot about timezones and accidentally called him at one am where he was. He told her he’d explain everything when he saw her in person. Bobby was on his way to pick her up already. The brothers were going to be staying in town for a while, which meant dealing with sam, but she couldnt be bothered to care because dean was alive.

There was no celebrating when she got back to Bobby’s house. Everyone was quiet, somber. Dean hugged her tight, like he was worried she’d turn into smoke if he let go. He didnt end up telling her all the details that night, or the night after. Whenever she asked he just said he’d ‘tell her later’ and disappeared out back, where the Impala was parked. He looked as tired as he sounded, those first few days. She didnt think he was sleeping. Bobby was worried, she could read it in the crease of his brow, the way he eyed the brothers like they were made of glass. Even sam looked sad enough that she almost felt sorry for him, before she remembered that she hated him. Annabeth didnt understand. This was a win, right? They got dean back! Shouldnt they be happy?

As the end of the week drew closer, her curiosity reached its peak. She needed answers and she was going to get them. On one of Deans rare trips to the kitchen, to grab a bagel before heading back out to the car, she cornered him. “Something happened at that hospital.” It wasnt a question.

He tried for a smirk. It didnt reach his eyes. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Something you dont want me to know about.” She crossed her arms, squared her shoulders, narrowed her eyes. For a little kid, she knew how to put her foot down when she had to. Dean was not leaving until he told her whatever he was hiding. 

For a brief instant, behind the dull haze of exhaustion that had settled over his eyes, she caught a flash of something almost like… fear? He looked away and it was gone. Hadnt been there long enough for her to get a good read, because it couldnt be fear, could it? Why would dean be afraid? He shook his head dismissively, “I dont know what you’re talking about.”

She scowled, “I’m not dumb, Dean.”

“Never said you were.” He replied lightly, but tension laced his words like poison. 

“Why wont you tell me?” She demanded, “I’m almost 10. Whatever it is, i can handle it!”

He scoffed at that, and she barely resister the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. That definitely wouldnt help her case. Dean took a step to the left, trying to go around her, but she mirrored it as her hands fell to her sides. His fake smile dropped into a very real frown, brows furrowing in annoyance. Before she could get another word in, he moved quicker than she expected, sidestepping her and leaving the kitchen. She spun on her heel, “This isnt fair!” 

“God, will you stop!?” He shouted, turning back to glare down at her. The anger in his eyes was unmistakable, for a second she felt her own resolve crack, the urge to apologize springing up inside of her. “Just leave it alone, Annabeth!”

A second later, she set her jaw. Held his gaze with a glare of her own. Matched his volume, “You know what? If you want to be like that, Fine ! See if i care! It’s not like i’m worried or anything!” 

Dean stormed out the back door after that. She got one final, shouted word out just before the door slammed shut behind him, “Jackass!”

“Hey!” Bobby chided halfheartedly, walking in at the tail end of all that, “Thought i told you not to use that word.”

She followed him into his study, sitting heavily on to couch, arms crossed once again. She commented grouchily, “Think i know what it means, now.” 

“Well, you called Dean one, so thats a safe bet.” He replied, then cast a glance at the back door, “But maybe you should cut him some slack, right now.”

“ Why ?” She demanded, “What happened, Bobby? Why is everyone so upset all the time, now? Dean’s alive! Am i the only one happy about that?”

He sighed, taking a seat next to her, “Of course i’m happy about it, kid. We all are. But he wasnt the only one in that hospital. Their dad was in the accident too and… he didnt make it out.”

Annabeths first thought was, of course. Followed quickly by, Gods im dumb, how did i miss that? And finally, Thats not all. Thats not what dean’s hiding. But out loud all she could manage was, “oh.” 

It didnt take long for her to feel… kind of bad about the argument. She still didnt think she was wrong , for the record. He WAS hiding something. She COULD handle the truth. It WASNT fair. All of that still stands. But, maybe, she pushed too hard. If she’d known his dad had died she probably wouldnt have yelled at him like that, might not have cursed at him. The next morning she tried to find him to apologize, if not for what she said than for how she said it, but he avoided her at every turn. The second she walked into a room, he walked out. If she set foot outside, suddenly he decided it was time to catch some shut-eye. He seemed determined not to talk to her, and she was getting annoyed again. And a little hurt. Avoiding felt too close to leaving, it made her heart twist in a way she hated being familiar with. It just served to make her more annoyed.

The day after, the brothers left for a job right before she caught the bus to school. She thinks it was a job, anyway. They got a call from some other hunter named Ellen, someone Bobby didnt seem to know when they brought her up. Sam had to trace the number for an address. Which Annabeth was resolutely trying not to find interesting. She still hated him. The fact that dean was ok didnt matter, as far as she was concerned Sam was still the reason he got hurt. The reason they were in this mess in the first place. The reason it felt like she was still losing dean more and more every second.

They werent gone all that long, comparatively. Most hunts take about a week, but the boys were back in less than three days. She got home from school to a full house once again. Neither looked any worse for wear, although the same could not be said about the impala out back. She opted not to question that one. She had her own problems to work out, this time, as she sat at the kitchen table bouncing her knee up and down. She stared at the textbook in front of her so intensely she could have bore holes through the pages. Twirling her pencil in one hand, she gave up trying to actually read and settled for trying to will the letters to just stay still for a second. The more she stared the more it all moved, jumbled, until they even started to blur together. It was hurting her eyes. She could feel a headache brewing. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Hours of work and she’s barely a third of the way through the worksheet. 

She chucked her pencil at the wall.

A plate of blueberry pie slid into her eye-line, on top of the offending textbook.

She stared at it for a second, bemused, before glancing up with a raised eyebrow at whoever brought it over. To her surprise, it was Sam. He smiled. She looked back at the pie. “What’s this for?”

“Violent pencil throwing usually means its time for pie.” He replied as if it were obvious. 

Annabeth couldnt help but chuckle at that, “You should tell Bobby. I’d get a new pie every day, all to myself.”

Sam laughed too, leaning down to pick up the pencil for her. Meanwhile, she took a bite of the delicious pastry. It was supposed to be for dean, but he hadnt been in a pie eating mood, and it would go bad soon if they didnt finish it. Setting the pencil next to her plate, Sam took a seat opposite her, and she was shocked to find herself without the sudden spike of hate and urge to leave that usually went hand in hand with the man. Must have been too tired or too distracted to be thinking straight.

“What are you working on?” He asked, before taking a bite of his own snack, which consisted of much-less-delicious-looking yogurt and fruit. 

Annabeth huffed, “English. It’s stupid. Why do i even need to take it, i already know english, i speak it all the time.” 

“Yeah, but theres a difference between knowing it and understanding it.” Sam commented idly. 

“I guess.” She grumbled, trying to eat as slowly as she could. The longer she took to finish the pie, the longer she got to go before diving back into her mind-numbing eye-straining homework from hell.

After a pause, Sam asked casually, “Do you need any help?”

“I’m not stupid.” She snapped on instinct. 

Sam’s hands flew up into a placating gesture, “Uh, sorry. Didnt mean to imply that you were. I just thought it might go quicker if i gave you a hand.” 

She was so close to telling him to get lost, imagined throwing her pencil at him this time for even daring to question her intelligence like that. She was Athena’s daughter, she could do a freaking worksheet on her own. (Should be able to.) But… her eyes drifted to the clock, again. Thoughts turning to the restless energy settled deep in her bones, growing stronger and stronger with every second she forced herself to sit still and focus . And she may have hated Sam, but he had gone to college. That meant he was smart, right? Or at least good at school. 

“Fine.” She gave in. Sam smiled, pulling his chair around so they were sitting side by side. She moved her near-empty plate out of the way. 

“Alright, what seems to be taking you the longest right now?” He asked. She could tell it was worded in a very specific way. Not ‘what are you struggling with,’ not ‘what dont you understand.’ Thats how her teachers always put it. Thats also why she stopped asking them for help. 

Annabeth pushed her worksheet toward him, pointing at the question she was on, “I cant figure out what this means.” 

He nodded, and when she subtly looked up at his expression, she couldnt find any judgment in it. A tiny bit of hope sparked inside of her. This might just work. It got snuffed out just as quick, when he started explaining the course content, like he thought she didnt understand it. “I know all that.” She snapped. 

Sam blinked at her, pausing. He recovered quick, though, and asked calmly, “Ok. What do you want help with, then?”

She sighed, feeling her ears starting to go red, “I dont know what the words mean. I dont know what it… says.” 

“You’re having trouble reading it?” He pressed, once again, completely without judgment. Talking to a nine year old who just admitted she cant read a simple sentence, and somehow he didnt seem to care about that. Didnt seem disappointed in the slightest. 

She nodded. 

He thought for a moment, considering the issue more intently than any teacher ever had. Which made it even more frustrating when he came up with the same exact solution every single one of them did, “Have you tried reading it out loud?”

Annabeth growled, “Forget it”

Sam’s eyes widened at the sudden hostility, “hold on, It was just an idea. How ‘bout we try-“

“No, its no big deal, i’ve got it.” She insisted, pulling the book closer to her again, “I just- I just need to stop the words from moving. Thats all.” 

“Moving?” He echoed, sounding profoundly confused.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. To think she thought this guy would be smart. “Yes, moving . You know, like words do.” 

“Annabeth…” He started, hesitant in a way that always put her defenses up. “Words dont- They arent supposed to move.”

Involuntarily, her head shot up to stare at him. It took a second for her brain to form a response, shocked into silence, because he looked so sincere. Honest. “But, yes they are? They do. Look, the letters arent staying where they should be.” She gestured to the page, where a paragraph of alphabet soup was currently playing tag, chasing each other around the paper. As hyperactive as she felt right now. Then, her brain fully caught up, and she scowled at him, “ Dont try to trick me, Sam.” 

His sincere expression didnt waver. He shook his head, eyes somewhere between sympathy and sudden understanding, “I’m not, i promise. Have you ever heard of dyslexia?”

She wracked her brain, but the word didnt ring any bells. She shook her head.

“It’s a- Well, to be honest, i dont know much about it either. But my… My girlfriend, back at Stanford, had it. She said it made reading difficult, because all the letters got mixed up when she tried to focus on them, and they would mix together until they barely even looked like words anymore. Does that sound… familiar?” 

“Yes.” Annabeth hadnt meant to agree so quickly. The word just slipped out, her thoughts fixating on the term like a swarm of fish spotting a cluster of food at the tank surface. There was a word for it? This wasnt something everyone dealt with? (She wasnt just too stupid to figure it out, when the rest of the world had?) She needed to know more. She needed to know everything about dyslexia, and she needed to know now . Half of her wanted to ask Sam a million questions, wanted to ask where his girlfriend was, if she could talk to her about it. But he just said he didnt know all that much. And he got… sad, when he brought his girlfriend up. So she refrained.

Sam looked a little more out-of-his-depth, now, but after a moments thought he suggested, “Do you think it would help if i read the question out loud, and you write the answer down?” 

Annabeth turned back to the page, having somehow completely forgotten about the homework under the shadow of this new interest. Quieter, now, with less conviction she repeated, “I can do it, you know.”

“Of Course.” Sam agreed easily, “Dyslexia doesn't mean that you cant read. But i think you’ve been stuck at this table long enough for one night.” 

She nodded, pushing the book and worksheet closer to him, and without another word he read out the question and the paragraph it referenced in the book. They breezed through the worksheet like that. She felt her confidence increasing by the second, because she really did know the answers! Some questions were tougher than others, and sometimes her mind would wander and Sam would have to re-read something two or three times, but she could answer them all. Her writing could still use work, he had to correct her spelling a lot, but she was doing really really well. 

As the seconds ticked by, her hatred for him started to wither. Chipped away by his calm, reassuring demeanor. He never rushed her, never implied that she couldnt do the work, never judged her when she stumbled her way through a particularly difficult question or spelled a word so wrong she felt award-worthily idiotic. This version of Sam wasnt anywhere near the jackass she made him out to be in her mind. It wasnt making sense.

If he was trying to take dean from her, trying to stop dean from seeing her, why would he take the time to help her? Why was he being so nice? If he just was nice, he wouldnt have gotten Dean hurt on purpose, so did he just make a mistake? Did he overlook something, not think something through? But he wasnt oblivious. He noticed she had dyslexia before even she did. And he wasnt thoughtless, either. He paused before almost everything he said, outside of reading something word-for-word. If he thought through what he said so intently, it wouldnt make sense for him to not think through his actions. 

He was disproving all of her theories left and right. Yet there was still one stubborn piece of anger holding on, even after she ran out of ways to justify it. There was just something deep in her heart that she couldnt reconcile but couldnt discard. Something she didnt want to look too closely at. Too painful. Too familiar. Too much like-

Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath.

“Why did you leave dean?” She blurted out, quiet, rushed. Like maybe he wouldnt notice if she didnt say it clearly. Maybe she wouldnt have to face the way it twisted her heart and made her fist clench around the pencil, threatening to snap it in half. 

Sam blinked at her, “What?”

Somehow, his confusion just made her angrier. 

“You left dean.” She reiterated, enunciated. Meeting his eyes now, searching that earnest expression for any cracks, any sign of dishonesty. “You left him for school, he told me. Why?”

With a heavy sigh, he looked away, “It’s more complicated than that, Annabeth.”

“You thought college was more important than family.” She accused. Indignation overtook his face, and she knew the answer before he said it.

“ No .” He replied emphatically, “Look, i didnt- I never wanted to cut him out of my life. Either of them. I just wanted to, to be normal. For a change. But dad didnt see it the same way i did. We got in a fight and he made it clear that if i went to school, i wasnt gonna be welcomed back. I didnt want to leave dean behind, but i had to make a choice.”

That struck a chord. A memory drifted to the surface, one she tended to push as far down as she possibly could, one she never let see the light of day no matter how many of her dreams it haunted. 

“I dont want to leave her behind, either. But face it, if she comes with us, we’re all going to die. We have to make a choice.” 

She couldnt bring herself to hate him for that, so what right did she have to hold the same logic against Sam? The anger was blown out like a candle, but a twisting feeling in her gut replaced it. The memory wouldnt go back down. She tried to force it from her head, but it held firm. Images started cropping up around it. The looks on their faces when he broke the news. The final hugs goodbye. The present she still kept on her at all times, whether in her backpack or her make-shift sheath or sitting on the coffee table next to her book.  The watery, unsure eyes of that new boy who could barely bring himself to look at her. The “Stay safe, ok?” The “We’ll come back for you.” The “Stay strong, Annabeth.”

She felt a stinging in her eyes and quickly turned away, “I think i can do the last question on my own.”

“Annabeth…” Sam started, but she shook her head sharply. Wiping at her eyes. He hesitated a moment longer, before quietly responding, “Ok. If you need anything, just let me know.”

She nodded, waiting for him to leave the kitchen. The instant he did, she scooped up her school supplies and ran to her room. She didnt let the tears start until her door shut. She didnt come back down for dinner. Around 6:30, though, she heard a knock at her door and opened it to find a plate sitting in the hall. A sandwich, a glass of water, and a slice of pie. 

The next morning, Annabeth acted like nothing had happened, and Sam followed suit. If he looked at her a little longer when she came downstairs, if his eyes were even sadder than they’ve been since he showed up, if she overheard him and Bobby talking about ways to help dyslexic kids with their homework, that was neither here nor there. Dean still practically ran out of the room when she sat down for breakfast. But, he hesitated at the door. Maybe he noticed the atmosphere shift, maybe he just forgot something inside, but he glanced back at the kitchen momentarily and she almost thought he was looking at her. Then, he disappeared outside once again. 

She took the bus to school, like usual. She struggled to sit still through class, struggled to focus on the teachers words, like usual. She attempted to read from the board, to read her textbook, to take notes, like usual. Got frustrated, like usual. But this time, when class ended, she stayed behind to talk to her teacher about it like she hadnt done in years. She asked about dyslexia. Mr. Garcia blinked at her, understanding dawning across his features. He promised to set up a meeting with the school psychologist for her. Gave her a note to take home to Bobby about it. She walked out of the classroom with a smile on her face, feeling proud of herself. 

When the schoolday ended, she walked outside with all the other kids, heading toward the line of waiting school busses. Then stopped in her tracks when another car caught her eye. A black, four-door, ‘67 Chevy Impala. It was sitting at the front of the pick-up lane. Dean sat in the front seat, smiling and waving once he noticed her. Annabeth was conflicted, not sure if she was happier that he wasnt avoiding her anymore or angrier that he had been in the first place. Nevertheless, she rushed to the car, excited at the prospect of not having to deal with annoying hyperactive classmates in a confined space for any more time that day. 

The silence inside the car was heavy. Dean tried for some small talk when she first climbed in, basic “how was school” type stuff, but it all fell flat. She hadnt decided what to say yet. He didnt seem sure, either. The radio was playing classic rock, as always, but it was quiet. Dean shifted uncomfortably. They were almost halfway back before he finally spoke up.

“Sammy and I are leaving today.” He started.

Annabeth sighed, “Ok.”

“We got a lead on something important. A job we’ve been working on for a really long time. Cant put it off any longer.” He explained uneasily.

“Ok.”

He hesitated, struggled to find the words he wanted, took a breath, “Look, I’m… I’m sorry. For- i dont know, for being a-”

“Jackass?” She suggested with a smirk.

Dean snorted, “You really shouldnt be using that word.”

The silence between them settled lighter than it had before. Before she could talk herself out of it, she added awkwardly, “I’m sorry too. I didnt mean to- i mean- i was kind of…” She paused, barely restraining a giggle, “A bitch.”

He sputtered, “Oh come on! Where’d you learn that one?” 

“Where d’ya think?” She replied, letting herself laugh openly. He joined in a second later, and the tension between them finally dissipated, chased away by the sound.

“At least dont let Bobby hear you say it.” He quipped once their chuckles died down, “He’ll think i’m a bad influence.”

She fixed him with a mock-sympathetic look, “Oh, dean. He already knows that.”