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Chapter Text

Straight denial doesn’t work when faced with the accusation that you were part of a cult.

Buck would know.

He’s tried.

Turns out denying you were ever part of a cult only makes people think you either need therapy or that you haven’t properly acknowledged your trauma. It’s particularly difficult to deny you were part of a cult when you aren’t able to tell the full story; especially because, well, Camp Half Blood does sound like a cult, if you don’t know about the Greek Gods.

How, Buck wondered to himself, not for the first time, are you supposed to tell your closest friends and family that what they believed to be a conversion camp – or cult – is actually a camp for wayward demi-gods?

Now that the floodgates had been opened by Ravi’s thoughtless commentary, Buck was left to deal with four years’ worth of pent-up questions.

****

Buck sat sulking in the 118 firehouse, carefully avoiding eye contact with the rest of the 118. Every attempt, over the last two days, at outright denying Camp Half Blood was a cult had backfired, leaving Buck more frustrated than he could ever remember being. Buck appreciated his team’s concern, he really did, though the realisation that they’d been ‘documenting’ his so-called oddities as proof that he was part of a cult was somewhat disconcerting.

He sighed, irritably.

Glancing up, he caught Hen, Chimney, Eddie and Ravi racing to look away.

“What?” Buck finally asked, flatly, caving at the prolonged silence as they knew he would.

“Are we allowed to ask questions now?” Chimney asked, shuffling over to Buck’s couch and sitting close enough to knock his shoulder against Buck’s, affably.

“What kind of questions?” Buck’s reluctant question was muffled by his own hands clutching his face in abject misery.

“Chimney –“ Bobby’s voice called out, lowly, from the far end of the room, in the kitchen. “If Buck doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t have to.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows, pointedly.

“Oh, come on!” Chimney complained. “How many times do you get to meet someone who was actually part of a cul –“

“It wasn’t a cult!” Buck interjected, for what felt like the millionth time in two days.

“Okay, okay.” Hen soothed, moving to position herself between Buck and Chimney. “Chimney is just… interested, in your life. In how you grew up. If you say you weren’t part of a cult, then we believe you. Right, guys?”

There was an unconvincing rumble of assent from the surrounding team, all of them ignoring Ravi’s scoffed ‘Yeah, right’ from the corner.

“And if it wasn’t a cult, then it shouldn’t be an issue to answer any questions. Right, Buck?” Hen persisted.

Buck huffed.

Maybe this was his chance to prove that the Camp wasn’t anything harmful. That it was just a camp for supposedly ‘normal’ kids. Ignoring, of course, that Camp was, in fact, harmful, just not in the way that they thought.

Buck rubbed his hand against the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, before nodding.

“Alright!” Chimney crowed, happily.

Hen caught sight of Bobby turning the pasta sauce on to simmer, moving subtly closer to the group. He may try to dissuade their questioning, but it doesn’t mean Bobby isn’t just as interested, Hen smirked.

“Can I go first?” Without waiting for an answer, Chimney continued. “I’ll go first. What’s with the sacrificing food thing?”

Buck breathed a small sigh of relief; that was an easy question, one that wouldn’t raise many eyebrows. Despite knowing this, Buck answered slowly, uncharacteristically thinking through his words carefully before answering, unwilling to accidentally say something that would cast the camp in a bad light.

“We would sacrifice food to the Gods.”

Hen, Eddie and Chimney blinked, glancing between each other confused. Buck noticed Eddie shrugging back at the other two.

Buck focused himself of Eddie’s face, earnestly; he knew Eddie didn’t believe in mythology or legends, only believed in one God. But Eddie didn’t have to believe in the Greek Gods, Buck just wanted Eddie to believe in him.

“At Camp, they worshiped the Greek Gods. As part of it, they would keep to some of the Greek traditions, like sacrifices. They were more like hippies than a cult.” Buck’s voice lifted at the end, as though asking a question, before he lowered it affirmingly. “Yeah. Yeah, they’re just a bit hippie-ish.”

Buck knew that Chiron was blanch at being called a hippie, but he also knew that the centaur would vastly prefer that categorisation over a being labelled a ‘cult’. Then again, Buck thought to Mr D. in his Hawaiian shirt and grapevines up his arms, as well as the literal naiads, satyrs and nature spirits that the campers would interact with on the daily, and yeah, the camp could definitely fit under the definition of ‘hippie’.

“There wouldn’t be any, like, animal sacrifices would there?” Chimney asked dubiously.  

Buck thought back to the scores of dracanae, laestragoneans, dragons and other mythical creatures and monsters that had been slain at the border of Camp Half Blood.

After a beat too long, where Chimney’s face dropped in dismay, Buck rushed to answer.

“No! No,” Buck repeated. “We didn’t sacrifice animals.”

“People?” Came Ravi’s even more worried question.

“No.” Buck purposefully did not think of the countless shrouds he’d seen in his time at Camp Half Blood. Nor the fact that, as children of the gods, they had all been shipped off to war like sacrificial lambs all the same. “No… we didn’t sacrifice people.”

Any enjoyment Chimney had been getting from the questioned ebbed the moment Buck started looking genuinely upset with the conversation.

“Sorry.” Chimney apologised, sharing a concerned glance with Eddie and Hen. He didn’t mean to push too hard too soon.

There was a moment of awkward silence, as each of them struggled with what to say next.

Interrupting the uncomfortable silence, the wailing of the station alarm started.

Saved by the bell, Chimney thought, hurrying to throw on his protective gear.

****

“What about the ‘you’re not allowed to date’ thing?” Hen asked.

This seemed to be how a lot of their conversations were starting these days: a seemingly innocent question, with the intent of learning more about camp.

Buck sighed.

They were all scattered about Bobby and Athena’s house for a weekend barbeque.

Buck had naively hoped that – having Athena, Karen and Maddie as buffers – the topic of his definitely-not-a-cult wouldn’t come up.

Clearly that was wishful thinking.

Buck turned wistfully from his plateful of food to Hen, head tilting as he considered his response.

“We were all kind of brothers and sisters?”

He hadn’t meant it to be a question, but catching the heightened looks of concern from his statement, Buck clarified. “Not, like, in a cult-ish way. More like a sibling-in-arms way. Although, most cabins do actually have blood-related siblings in them. Cabins Seven, Eight and Eleven were the exceptions to that for the most part.”

He avoided looking at Maddie while talking; she would get noticeably upset when he’d talk about camp, and he didn’t want to shove it in her face that he did, in fact, consider more people than just her as his siblings.

“So you call the other campers in your cabin siblings.” Karen mused. Buck could only assume Karen had been kept up to date with all of Hen’s theories over the last four years, as she’d taken the uptick in discussions of potential cults in her stride over the last couple of weeks. “How did you all end up there? Did you get ‘chosen’ to be siblings or did you all pick to be in a specific cabin?”

Buck faltered slightly.

How could he phrase his answer without it sounding like the people running the camp were just popping out hundreds of kids at a time?

“Uh… we had to all get claimed?” Buck finally settled on.

“Claimed?” Athena asked, voice carefully controlled.

“Yeah.” Buck answered, absently.

His thoughts flitted to that confusing time; the time in every demi-gods life where they start to get noticed by monsters and creatures, alike. Where they start to sense the growing powers of the demi-gods and attack.

Lost in thoughts, he continued. “Most of us would start to get noticed around puberty or in our pre-teens –“

Buck was oblivious to the quietening of the room, the slowly rising horror on everyone’s faces.

“ – and it would make it dangerous for us in society, so the camp would send out scouts to find us and bring us to camp to keep us safe –“

Athena’s mind started racing at Buck’s words; the idea that Buck had been conditioned to think that his camp sending out ‘scouts’ to find children who were being ‘noticed’ during puberty was normal, was disturbing.

“ – we were fairly easy to find, as most of us got into trouble at school and have a mixture of ADHD and dyslexia, or were homeless.“

Athena would absolutely be opening a criminal investigation the moment their barbeque was over.

She of course already had a corkboard of ‘evidence’ that the 118 had slowly been collecting over the course of four years, but the idea of people actively trying to target troubled or homeless children and ‘claim’ them for ‘their own safety’, it sounded less and less like a cult and more and more like human trafficking.

Buck smiled over at them, easily.

His face totally unaware of the turmoil he was causing.

“You’re saying,” Eddie started, slowly, his eyes never leaving Buck’s face. “– that you had fully grown adults ‘claiming’ you once you hit puberty? To come join this camp of yours.”

“What?! No. I mean, yes.”

Buck stumbled over his words; it sounded worse when Eddie said it out loud. That was not what he meant. “You didn’t have to be actually claimed to be brought camp. We were brought there for our own safety! And most of the kids were claimed by their actual parents. It wasn’t anything weird.”

Buck stressed the last part, hoping to emphasise how not concerning it was. Judging by Bobby’s stricken expression and Maddie’ ashen face, he wasn’t sure how successful he was.

“Nearly everyone brought there were actually related to another camper in some way. Like siblings or cousins. I was an exception to that really. Some were claimed by their parents and some weren’t.” Buck stammered helplessly, he didn’t know how else to explain it. It had never been anything he’d considered to be ‘abnormal’ until now. “The ones who weren’t claimed had it worse. There were often stuck in Cabin Eleven with countless other kids.”

“What were they choosing you for?” Eddie sounded simultaneously alarmed and disgusted.

To do quests for them? No. Buck couldn’t say that. What else could he say?

“They wanted us to do favours for them.”

There was a beat of pause.

A silence so loud that you could hear a pin drop.

Buck choked in horrified realisation at how that sounded. Why was everything he was saying being misconstrued so badly?! He was supposed to be proving he wasn’t part of a cult. Not feeding into the theory.

“Not like… Weird or sexual favours.” Buck hurried, in case they assumed it was some sort of sexually abusive cult. “But they sometimes needed our help. But don’t worry, they’d give them gifts or rewards afterwards! “

“They would give you gifts after the claimed you – ?!”

“They gave you gifts after you did favours for them –?”

Maddie and Bobby’s overlapped each other, but Buck got the gist.

Buck nodded.

“Yes? I mean, sometimes they’d give you gifts before they claimed you. If they saw some themselves in you – Not like that –“ Buck stressed when Maddie let out a stifled gasp.

Buck had never wished so hard in his life for the ground to swallow him whole. He hunched his shoulders, facing back to his plate. The mound of food on it looked less appetising every minute. By the Gods, how was he supposed to get them to believe him when his mouth was so much quicker than his brain?!

He could feel himself start to panic, the world sharpening around him. This was not the situation his battle-reflexes were made for; there was no battle to be waged here, beyond Buck’s own thoughtless commentary, and yet he couldn’t stop the building pressure from morphing into anxiety and a hint of anger.

“Look, does it matter how anyone got to camp?” Buck finally snapped, sick of the barbeque-turned-interrogation. “We just did, okay? And it was fine. There was nothing weird or cult-ish. It was a totally normal camp for kids.”

He ignored the pointed looks he caught Hen and Chim sharing.

Athena forced out an awkward laugh, cutting through the sudden tension. “I think that’s enough of the question time for our Buckaroo. Hey, Karen, why don’t you tell us all about that update your work had with–?”

Buck breathed a sigh of relief.

That had not gone as he’d planned it.

****

Athena, hours later, sat in her study facing the corkboard, with her meagre information in hand. The years’ worth of off-hand remarks, commentary and evidence splayed out before her.

It was time to crack this case wide open.

****

The call had been a fairly regular one.

A small fire set by a group of homeless people in an attempt to stay warm, resulting in a small blaze and minor burns for the group.

Chimney and Hen were leading the medical response, while Ravi and Eddie had just finished putting out the fire, fire hoses held aloft.

“Nice work.” Bobby praised, moving around the group to check on everyone.

Buck was next to the two remaining members of the group, speaking in low, calming tones. Bobby moved closer to them trying to parse out Buck’s words.

“–is not the safest way to keep warm. If you’re trying to stay warm, there’s a Mission shelter not far from here. And there are some foods that will keep you warmer when you eat them, like cheese and –“

Bobby’s eyebrows furrowed. How did Buck know so many ways to keep warm while being homeless?

Ten minutes later, back in the fire truck and headsets on for conversation, Bobby turned in his seat and asked the question. “How’d you get those tips, Buck? Did you find that on one of your research deep dives?”

Ever since he’d introduced Buck to the wonders of a smart phone – and Chimney subsequently introducing the likes of Wikipedia and Reddit – Buck had kept them thoroughly updated on his ongoing special interests. It warmed something in Bobby to know that Buck now had the free reign to research anything that tickled his fancy; his energy when info-dumping was often infectious.

“Hm?” Buck glanced from where he and Eddie had been wordlessly holing some sort of conversation. “Oh. No. Those were all tips one of my campmates, Annabeth, mentioned from when she was homeless.”

“Your camp mate was homeless?” Bobby asked carefully.

The team had been avoiding the topic of camp for the last week or two, after the revelations at the barbeque; none of them willing to upset Buck further and risk him clamming up about the camp entirely.

“Yeah… she ran away from home at seven years old and met up with some other campers on the streets before they made it to camp.” Buck recalled the stories he heard of her travels from camp. “She told people the tips so that if anyone got into a bad situation –“ If they were on quests or otherwise, Buck thought. “ – they wouldn’t be in a similar situation.”

“You’ve… never needed those tips, have you, Buck?” Hen asked as quietly as she could.

Given the fact that their voices were travelling directly into each other’s headsets, she probably needn’t have bothered.

The idea of Buck being homeless rolled around in her head, gaining traction. But the idea got caught; the ‘tips’ Annabeth was giving gave Hen the impression that she was encouraging others to escape the cult and preparing them for, if they succeeded, being on the run with little to no resources.

“No, of course not!” Buck stifled a snort at the idea, interrupting Hen’s reverie. “After being dropped off by my parents, I could never be homeless again. I carry that Home with me wherever I go.” Buck smiled, thinking of the fact that he carried Home wherever he went; Hestia’s Lighter warming his pocket at the thought. “I could never leave it.”

Hen and Chim exchanged dismayed looks. Did Buck really think the cult would never let him leave again? That he’d never be able to build a home outside it?

The static of the headsets felt louder than before.

Well, we’ll make sure Buck knows he had a Home at the 118, no matter what. Hen thought determinedly.

****

Buck couldn’t catch a break, not even in the sanctuary of Eddie’s house.

He’d sunk into the cushions of Eddie’s couch for all of two seconds when Eddie came barrelling in – a beer in one hand and a glass of Buck’s favourite camp-grown wine in the other – continuing their argument from earlier.

“I’m just saying,” Eddie’s voice cut through the ambiance, picking their argument up where Buck thought they’d successfully left it an hour before. “If Chris came home from camp saying some of those things–“

Eddie had been weirdly insistent, the last few days, in trying to compare Chris going away to his first summer camp to Buck’s experiences at Camp Half-Blood.

It was not the same.

Buck was a demi-god, sent away to camp to train how to protect himself from monsters. It was different.

“And I’m just saying–“ Buck interrupted, frustratedly. “ –That it’s not even remotely similar. Look.” Buck grabbed his wine glass, taking an emboldening sip. “There was nothing creepy going on. The parents weren't even allowed in the camp. In fact, there were only two adults there most of the time!”

At Eddie’s confused head tilt, Buck continued, triumphantly.

“The parents don’t stay at camp. They’re not even really supposed to talk to the campers that much, especially their own children; they have other things going on. The only adults there are Mr D., who didn’t even want to be there, he was there as a kind of punishment–“

Eddie’s eyebrows creased in concern, so Buck moved on quickly.

“ –and Chi– uh, Mr Brunner. He’s the guy who helps run it.”

Eddie firmly committed the names to memory; he would be adding the information to the 118 group chat and to Athena directly, the moment Buck was asleep.

“Oh! And Argus. But he was just the security guard. He would stop anything from getting in or out. Really good at his job–“ Buck smirked to himself. “ –it’s like he had eyes out the back of his head, or something.”

“Why would he be stopping people from leaving?”

Buck shrugged into the couch. “So kids wouldn’t wander off and get hurt?”

“Did you–“ Eddie hesitated, remembering how agitated Buck got the last time they’d asked too many questions too quickly. “Did you have a ‘parent’ who claimed you?”

Eddie felt sick using the word.

Claimed.

As though Buck was a ‘thing’ that could be owned or possessed by another.

It made Eddie nauseous to know such things were normalised in Buck’s eyes, to the point where he didn’t even question it.

Buck smiled.

“Yeah! I did. I had Hestia–“ Another name for Eddie to commit to memory. “ –My parents promised me to her when I was a baby.”

Eddie coughed, shock preventing him from swallowing his mouthful of beer. He spluttered droplets of it to the floor, stare fixed on Buck who, in turn, was looking at Eddie in concern.

“You alright?”

“Did you just say you were promised to some random woman as a baby?”

Buck rolled his eyes, passing Eddie a napkin to wipe up the remining beer. “Yes, but it’s fine. She’s watched over me my entire life. When my biological parents decided they didn’t want me, she stepped up. She saved my life.”

Buck sat up, patting down his pockets abruptly.

Finally locating what he wanted, Buck thrust his ever-present Lighter out, presenting it eagerly to Eddie. “See? This is the gift she gave me my first night there!”

The Lighter.

The Lighter that Buck carried with him everywhere, that Eddie had never seen him travel without, was a gift he’d received from so-called ‘parent’ – or owner, Eddie thought grimly – did he not realise how this came across?

Another alarming thought crossed Eddie’s mind: what did Buck have to do to get the Lighter?

“What did other kids get?” Eddied asked, instead of lingering on the worst possibilities.

“Lots of things!” Buck gushed, eager to demonstrate the more ‘generous’ side of camp and the Gods. “One of my old cabinmates got some arrows from his dad; one of the kids Annabeth from Cabin Six got a Yankees cap from her mom and it’s so cool when she wears it as it turns her–“

Buck faltered.

“ –well, it makes her blend in with the crowd more. Another kid, Percy Jackson, got a pen and wristwatch – it’s better than it sounds, really.” He continued, lamely, only now realising how unimpressive their gifts might sound without context.  “And my friend, Pollux, got this champagne flute which makes the wine he pours into it amazing. It’d be enough to turn someone mad.” Buck couldn’t resist the joke, even though Eddie wouldn’t get the reference.

“And then there’s–“

The night was a long one, filled with Eddie battling the overwhelming urge to cry.

                                                                                      ****              

Eddie sat with Athena, the next day, allowing her to transcribe the interaction.

They sat in the corkboard room. The room – which used to be housed in the study beside the kitchen – had recently been moved to May’s old room – at May’s insistence – allowing for the expansion of evidence to be displayed. What was once a single corkboard and a notebook of questionable tidbits from conversations with Buck, now looked like an extensive investigation room.

“He said that his parents promised Buck to his ‘parent’, he said her name was Hestia–“ Eddie paused, waiting for Athena’s notes to catch up, willing down the ever-prevalent nausea. “ -said she chose him as a baby and that she’d watched him his whole life.”

Eddie allowed his head to fall into his hands.

It was something to occupy them, stop them from balling up into fists at the idea of Buck’s parents basically selling him to a stranger. A stranger who apparently stalked him as a child and then proceeded to kidnap, brainwash and groom him. The red-hot ball of anger, the familiar rage from his pit-fighting days bubbling up inside him.

He took a deep breath and looked back towards Athena’s corkboard.

He ignored Athena’s knowing look.

“He did say something else new, though, later on in the conversation.” Eddie continued, remembering the rest of the conversation. “He said not all of them were picked off the streets or dropped there. Apparently, there are some celebrities’ kids there. High profile ones.”

Athena’s face snapped up, interested.

“Did he say who?” She turned back to the corkboard, mind already racing.

If high-profile children were involved, that meant more interest and likely, more manpower. It spoke to a higher level of organisation than a small-time camp, it reeked of trafficking and the exploitation of children.

 “I think he mentioned someone called Piper, who’s apparently the daughter of a film star. Mc – something.”

“Are you saying Piper McLean, daughter of Tristan McLean, is part of this?”

Eddie gave Athena an odd look. “How did you know who her father was or who I was speaking about?”

Athena returned his look with a flat one of her own. “May used to have movie posters of him on her wall. I know who he is.”

“Yeah, and there was Rachel Dare, maybe? I think Buck said she was the daughter of some entrepreneur.”

She turned to the white-board, adjacent to the corkboard, adding the names to the list. She hadn’t heard of Rachel Dare, but she’d find out who she was. Or more importantly, who her parents were. On her corkboard, so far, she had: Pollux [No last name], Annabeth [No last name], Percy Jackson, a ‘Mr. D’, Mr. Brunner, Piper McLean, Rachel Dare, Hestia – underlined and in capitals – and Katie [No last name].

It was a slowly growing list, but Athena would run with it.

In the hour after Eddie left, Athena managed to uncover a number of ‘Wanted Posters’ for a young Percy Jackson, aged twelve. A string of events, whereby the twelve-year-old and his two friends were kidnapped by a man with a gun and, somehow, blamed for a string of terrorist attacks.

This was big.

This was countless children over the course of years, decades.

This wasn’t just one count of potential human trafficking. This was an entire ecosystem of kidnapping and exploitation.

Athena picked up the phone. “Hey Lou, I have a case for you.”

****

Buck sat with Logan in the local bar, conveniently between the 118 and the 136 firehouses.

Having made friends with Logan six months prior - running into the Roman firefighter on a call-out with the 136 - Buck had met up with him several times. Logan was one of the few people in the area that could related to his troubles of blending post-camp life and a 'normal', mortal life. 

Buck groaned into the table. “Logan, how do you do it? How do explain the entire demi-god thing away to your friends?”

Logan shrugged, easily. “It’s not that difficult, Buck. You just pick a story and the Mist works the rest of the details out for you.”

“The 118 think I was in a cult!”

Logan choked on his beer. “What?! How’d you manage that?”

“Well, I didn’t know they thought I was in a cult until recently and I’ve been trying to explain camp to them, so they know I wasn’t. For instance, yesterday–“

Buck tried to outline the entire state of affairs to Logan, since Ravi’s revelation, though he was unable to explain any potential details before then; he had no idea what had given them the idea in the first place.

The longer Buck went on, the more pained Logan’s expression got.

Buck took another sip of his wine as he finished.

“Buck. Please tell me you didn’t phrase it like that.”

“Why?”

“No wonder they think you’re part of a cult! If I didn’t know any better, and I was listening to you, I’d think you were part of a cult. By the Gods, I might still think that. You Greeks are feral.” Logan giggled hysterically at the thought.

The poor firefighters struggling to piece together the story that was Buck’s life, only to have Buck butcher the details so drastically that the only conclusion they can draw is a cult. And that’s with the Mist actively helping him.

“Well, what did you tell people then?” Buck demanded, petulantly.

“I told them I went to military camp.” Logan answered, expression deadpan. He watched Buck’s realisation roll over him. The fact that he could have come up with such a simple excuse for his upbringing. Granted Camp Jupiter did operate more similarly to a military camp, with their rigid hierarchy, the presence of actual adults and letters of reference from previous attendees that could vouch for the camps authenticity.

Buck’s face dopped.

Oh.

Oh.

Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Chapter Text

Buck had no idea how to fix this; he’d never been the planner of the group, with that task typically being passed to any Athena kids available, instead he’d always been the back-up, the support.

Maybe if the 118 actually met some of his other campmates, they’d realise how wrong they were. And how normal the other campers were.

Surely that would work.

** 1 **

Buck’s first ‘IM’ was to Logan; primarily because the man was closer than his Camp Half-Blood compatriots, and partially because the man clearly had experience navigating the whole ‘camp’ discussions. And in a way that didn’t give people the impression he was part of a cult.

He hadn’t considered the possibility that Logan would use the opportunity to fuck with him, both as one of the only Greek demi-gods Logan knew, and more importantly, as his friend.

“He’ll be here soon.” Buck assured the members of the 118.

All of the A-Shift – Bobby, Chimney, Hen, Eddie and Ravi – were present, as well as Athena, all scattered across the double tables of the cop bar Athena had chosen for them.

“So how do you know this man?” Athena questioned, eyes watching the door attentively.

“Technically, we met on shift at a fire a few months back. He’s with the 136. But some of his friends know my friends.” Buck perked up, spotting Logan entering the bar. He waved the man over, standing and pushing Logan forward.

“Everyone, this is Logan!” He gestured to the man – as though it was unclear who he was referring to. “Logan, you’ve met some of the 118 before. That’s Bobby – our Captain – and Hen, Chimney, Eddie and Ravi. And that’s ‘Thena.”

Buck pointed Athena out last, gleefully watching Logan snap to attention at her name. His posture straightening automatically and eyes widening in alarm.

“’Thena?” Logan repeated, voice betraying his panic somewhat.

Buck laughed, mirthfully, before putting Logan out of his misery. “She’s Bobby’s wife. No relation to Annabeth’s mom.”

Logan’s posture immediately relaxed, and he shot Buck a look of contempt, unimpressed at even the momentary confusion. Buck had heard from some of the other Greeks that the Romans took interactions with their Gods far more seriously; with the Romans interacting more rarely with their descendants than the Greeks. Comparatively, the Greeks godly parents were very involved, which was just sad to think about.

“Come, sit down.” Buck ushered him into the booth before offering, “You want something to drink? My shout, since you came all this way.”

Logan huffed, “I’ll take a beer.”

Buck shot off eagerly, giving a salute to Chimney as the man shouted his own order to Buck’s back as he headed to the bathroom.

Alone, with the entire 118 now staring at him, Logan felt every bit like he was in enemy territory.

“So…” He started awkwardly, before being cut off.

“You’re part of Buck’s cult, right?” One of the group asked – Ravi, was it? – Logan wasn’t sure.

He scoffed, derisively. Part of the Greeks?! He wouldn’t be caught dead at Camp Half Blood. The Greeks are untrained, wild things.

While the bad blood between the two camps had been abated during the second Giant War with Gaea, there was still a mutual enjoyment in fucking the other pantheon over. A friendly rivalry, one might call it. Though it often ended in more bloodshed than most other rivalries might.

“What? No.” Logan pitched his tone, aiming for a confused lilt. “I went to military boarding school. What are you talking about?”

“We heard you the last time we met, with Buck.” Eddie spoke, sounding more accusatory than the others, looking Logan up and down as though unimpressed. “You know about his ‘camp’.”

Logan couldn’t blame the man for his unfriendly demeanour; given the impression Buck had accidentally given of his camp, he was surprised they were willing to associate with anyone from it.

“I know of it. But I didn’t go to the same camp.” Logan offered. “Our parents are of a similar pedigree though… it’s just, for us, if you wanted your kids to learn respect and rules, you’d get sent to the miliary camp. Buck’s camp, though? They were weird.”

Logan glanced over to Buck, still stuck in the line to the bar.

Logan leaned forwards, whispering conspiratorially. “Ours was military camp, but I heard theirs was practically a hovel.” Logan felt his amusement grow at the disrespect to the Greek camp, even if there weren’t any Greeks there to appreciate it. The legion barracks were vastly superior to the cabins he’d heard the Greeks had. “They did grow their own fruit and vegetables, sure, and to be fair, I heard it nicer now that it’s been rebuilt after being destroyed.”

He continued, quickly, not allowing the 118 to speak after that revelation. “The only real interaction I had with them was for the Trials.”

“What trials?” The woman in police uniform – the unfortunately named ‘Athena’ – asked, voice terse.

“One of the parents from their camp handled a situation poorly, he gave power to the wrong person –“ Logan had still been around New Rome when Octavian was blessed with the powers of prophecy; he’d seen how close Octavian came to causing an outright war between the Romans and Greeks. “ – and that person abused it thoroughly. A lot of people got hurt… so, the parent was put through the trials as punishment.”

“How did he abuse his power?” Athena pressed, insistently.

Logan shrugged; he couldn’t very well say Octavian had wanted to become the saviour of the Romans and bring a new world order. He also didn’t want to add too much fuel to the fire and total all the work Buck had been doing to prove his camp wasn’t that bad.

“He just went too far for some of the parents’ tastes.”

A shared look between the 118 members wasn’t lost on Logan.

There was a moment were the group leaned back, almost overwhelmed by the influx of information.

“You weren’t ‘chosen’ to join your camp then?” Hen asked, quietly. There was a weird emphasis on the word ‘chosen’, which Logan couldn’t understand, but he took it to mean Buck had implied something he hadn’t meant to.

“No?” He answered, warily. “My parents went to the camp. One of my grandparents was a founding member. My parents were legacies, so I got an official referral to send me there.”

“Your camp got a name?” Athena asked, voice terse.

Logan smiled.

Camp Jupiter – unlike Camp Half-Blood, who’s pseudonym as Delphi Strawberry Services was ill-used and not backed by any official, digital or legal presence – had the alias of Jupiter Military Camp, with an official website and legal presence that was protected by dozens of legacies.

“Yeah. Jupiter Military Camp. It’s out near the Oakland Hills. You can find us online, if you’re interested in checking us out.”

The moment was interrupted as Buck finally returned to the table with the drinks in hand, eyeing them all cautiously. He did a double-take when he caught Logan’s mischievous look. Glancing back to the rest of the 118, he could make out their anxious expressions.

“What did you say to them?” Buck hissed. Grabbing Logan’s arm, he pulled him up, not stopping to address the 118 beyond placing down the drinks and a quick, “Excuse us a moment.”

Spotting the bathroom, Buck pulled Logan inside.

“Dude, I thought you were going to help me! You were supposed to convince them that I wasn’t in a cult.”

Logan laughed. “You might not have been in a cult, but you can’t tell me you Greeks weren’t feral.”

“Who are you trying to call feral?” Buck bit back, thoroughly annoyed by this point. Why had he expected more from a Roman? He could trust Logan to save his life in a pinch sure, but to make his daily life easier? No way. “Your War Games have literally killed people!”

“They haven’t killed anyone in years!” Logan refuted. “Besides, you have no room to talk. I heard your Capture the Flag ends in multiple broken bones at minimum.”

“Yeah, broken bones! Not actual deaths. And accidental broken bones are relatively normal for fights between children.”

“Yeah, and the fights are between mainly children, why?” Logan nodded, mockingly, before answering his own question. “Oh, yeah. Because most of the kids at your camp die young. Don’t be bitter at me just because your kids don’t survive till adulthood.”

Buck would be offended by the casual reference to the deaths of Greek demi-gods, but the black humour he and the other campers had developed and the two Greek wars he’d been involved in had thoroughly desensitised him to the realities of dying young. It was the reality of being a Greek demi-god, as opposed to diluted descendants like the Romans typically were. The Greeks were more powerful individually, but it was balanced by them attracting more trouble and often finding tragic and bitter ends earlier in life.

Buck snorted, breaking the growing tension between them.

More light-hearted, Buck managed to retort. “At least we didn’t have a leader who thought he was the literal prophet and saviour of the world.”

Logan winced at the reminder of Octavian’s hubris. “At least we had a leader… and an actual council with elders that got voted in.”

“It can’t have been that well vetted if one of ours got voted in as leader after only a week at your camp. And at least we don’t get tattoos branded into our skin upon entry and for every year you’re there. We stick to necklaces and beads, like normal people.”

Logan opened his mouth for another rebuttal, when it was interrupted by the sound of a toilet flushing.

They both turned to the slowly opening cubicle.

Chimney stood, silently, in the doorway, eyes-wide and horrified.

Shit, Buck thought. He’s going to tell everyone.

Chimney backed slowly out of the bathroom, as though trying not to spook either of them, Buck turned to Logan.

“Thanks for your help there, Logan.” Buck sniped. “Really appreciate all your support.”

****

For a reason Buck couldn’t discern, he spent the next week or two being asked about his tattoos and where he got them from. Glad that the 118 was taking an interest in his life besides camp, Buck explained the origins of each of his tattoos.

** 2 **

A pile-up on the motorway. That’s what the 9-1-1 call had told them.

Looking out to the sea of chaos in front of him, Buck had to wonder exactly what the rest of the world was seeing.

What Buck saw was a chariot, the size of a bus, tipped over, claw marks scraping the sides and a very large talon left imbedded in the car’s exterior. Beside the chariot was the carcass of a gryphon, the lion’s part of the body clearly cleaved in two while the eagle’s head protruded at an odd angle, indicating the neck had been snapped. Cars scattered the scene around them; some having seemingly been used as projectiles by the gryphon and other cars appearing to have rammed into each other in the subsequent confusion.

“Alright, everyone.” Bobby announced. “We have a pile-up, with multiple suspected casualties. We need to leave the tank –“ Buck reassessed the size of the gryphon and supposed the carcass could equate to the size of a small tank with the power of the Mist. “– to the army when they arrive. Everyone, be sure to check every car and call out if you need additional medical support.”

Thankfully, as Buck moved through the scene, there seemed to be very few critical injuries and no apparent deaths.

Impressive considering the scale of the destruction.

When virtually all of the victims had been attended to, Buck finally took in the chariot itself. Moving closer, he assessed the engravings. They felt familiar.

Where had he seen the engravings before?

Abruptly, it came to him.

It was one of the Ares’ kids’ chariots.

Buck’s head snapped up; there was no way, no matter how injured an Ares kid was nor how important their quest was, that they would leave one of their dad’s chariots in the wreckage for anyone to take.

And that’s when he spotted her.

Across the lanes of traffic, cut bleeding from her temple and a talon impaling her shoulder: Clarisse.

He’d never interacted with her much; her having considered his skills in combat mediocre and only notable for his passive ‘Home’ advantage during the Capture the Flag. He wasn’t certain she’d even recognise him, with how much he’d changed.

Hen and Chimney were currently flanking her, attempting to convince her to get medical attention, but her gaze was fixed on the chariot. Until it wasn’t.

“Home Boy?!”

Shit.

Buck attempted to duck behind the wreckage of one of the cars, hoping she would believe she’d imagined him.

“Hey! You come back here!”

Buck peeked back around the wreckage, only to see Clarisse marching directly towards him, swatting Chimney’s insistent attempts at bandaging her head with her good arm.

If Buck had changed in the last decade, so had Clarisse; she’d always been muscular, but this was beyond intimidating. Clarisse grabbed him with the one hand and yanked him back with a strength that belied her smaller height.

“Hey!” Eddie’s voice yelled from a few cars down. “Let go of him!”

“Thank the Gods, you gotta help me.” Clarisse sounded panicked.

Which couldn’t be right; even in the midst of the Battle of Manhattan Buck hadn’t heard her this panicked. Granted, he’d still been unconscious when Selena had masqueraded as Clarisse and subsequently been killed, so he couldn’t attest to her level of panic during that part of the fighting.

“Ma’am, you can’t just grab one of our firefighters like that.” Bobby intervened, trying to loosen Clarisse’s grip on Buck. Eddie, having joined the fray, also grabbed a hold of her wrist to pull her off.

She ignored them both.

“You gotta send me Home. Now.”

Something in her tone must have pinged on both Bobby and Eddie’s radar, as both glanced between the two of them, taking note of Buck’s lack of alarm or confusion.

“Clarisse, I’m at work –“

“Buck. I don’t have time for this.” Buck gave an unimpressed look. She took a deep breath, “My Dad asked me for a favour and –.”

“What’s the favour?” Buck asked, pointedly not looking at any of the 118’s faces; he didn’t want to see them live-time interpret the situation wrongly. He, consequently, missed the looks of dawning realisation on Hen, Chimney and Bobby’s faces and the horrified matching expressions of ‘Is this woman on the run from their cult?’

“I’ve already done it,” Clarisse responded dismissively, “You don’t even want to know what it involved. Let’s just say it involved Talos and copious number of showers.”

Buck cringed.

He knew of Talos, the automaton; he’d fought several automatons in his time during the Second Giants war, they had a tendency to explode into black oil when killed. It took more than a few showers to get the thick, black oil out of one’s hair.

“They’re the worst.” Buck agreed, frowning. He ignored the continued and growing looks of concern from the 118. “If you’ve done the favour, what do you need help with?”

Clarisse continued surveying the area as she answered. “I took the chari– car for speed, but now the favour’s done, my brothers have noticed it’s gone. They’ve had it in for me for years, ever since my Dad blessed me… and now they’ve been chasing me for days, forcing me West.”

“I’m sure they won’t actually hurt you –“ Buck started.

Clarisse had aged-out of camp, same as Buck; the worst her brothers could do would be maiming or dragging her back to camp to fix what she’d broken. Then again, if it was her father’s chariot, it may not only be her brother’s wrath that she was avoiding.

“No. You don’t know my brothers like I do, Buck. They’re on a war path!” Buck winced. “My Dad isn’t going to help me where my brothers are involved, and I haven’t been able to ‘IM’ anyone. Don’t touch me, I don’t need any of your help!” The last part she bit out at Chimney, who’d approached once more to help.

“You got any of your Home-cooked food? Or anything else–?” She trailed off, leaving the end open, but Buck could fill in the gaps.

Fortunately, Buck had taken to carrying a small serving of both ambrosia and nectar, a hold-over from the War, where no-one left without at least a single dose.

“Here.”

He pulled out the ambrosia and nectar, the former disguised in a foiled wrapping as some sort of fortune cookie and the latter contained in a small sachet that looked like mustard.

“But, Clarisse, you probably should still get seen to –”

“No.” Clarisse rebuffed, eyes still roaming the motorway warily.

“Ma’am, you have a pole impaling your shoulder. “ A pole, Buck thought, eyeing the talon. That makes sense. “We really recommend you –“ Bobby tried.

“Any of you touch me again, I will fight you.” And Buck knew she would, if pushed. He shook his head at Chimney, Eddie and Bobby.

From either her tone or Buck’s face, all of them raised their hands in surrender; they couldn’t give medical aid if the person in question didn’t want it, despite how badly it seemed she needed it.

From Buck’s perspective, of course, he knew a good night of sleep, and a few helpings of ambrosia and nectar would have her right as rain by morning.

Clarisse, without further prompting, wrenched the talon out of her shoulder.

All of them, bar Buck, lurched instinctively forward, but at Clarisse’s complete lack of reaction, they shared another dismayed look.

“Tch.” She tutted at their reaction. “I’ve had worse.”

Buck could have facepalmed.

They’d all had worse in their times at Camp Half-Blood, that doesn’t mean she had to shove that fact in mortals’ faces.

“Home Boy.“ Buck re-focussed on her face. He’d be more insulted by the nickname if Clarisse wasn’t so out of sorts. “Where’d you live?”

Buck sighed.

He rattled off the address, ignoring his colleagues’ incredulous looks.

“You can have my key; it’s back at the fire house.”

“I don’t need your key, Home Boy. I have my foot.”

The image of Clarisse kicking his door down crossed his mind, causing instinctive, reactive anger to well in him. “Do not, and I repeat, do not break into my Home.”

Something in Buck’s voice must have gotten his message across, however, as Clarisse didn’t push back. “Fine. I’ll use your window.” Buck mentally sighed again but appreciated her attempt at compromise. Despite living several floors up, he had no doubt she’d be able to enter successfully. “I just really don’t want to run into any more Romans. Or monsters. Or my brothers. We’re just a bit exposed here.”

“Hey! The Romans aren’t actually that bad.”

“Ugh, don’t be going native on me now, Home Boy.” They shared an amused smile.

Despite their previous lack of interaction, they’d known each other for over a decade – closer to two at this point – and fought beside each other in multiple battles, and yet nothing could bring the Greeks together like a shared dislike of the Romans.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved his Lighter. “Here.”

The Lighter should be enough for her to get through any of his wards and protections. Clarisse’s face morphed into one of reluctant appreciation; it wasn’t common for campers to lend out the gifts they’d received from their parents. The fact that Buck was doing so was not lost on her.

“Thanks.” Clarisse mumbled, quietly, taking the Lighter from his outstretched hands.

She shook her head, regaining her bravado. “I hope you have homecooked food in. I haven’t eaten properly all week. I’ll owe you sacrifices all week, in yours and your Mom’s name.”

Buck smiled.

Clarisse moved to leave before faltering, understanding crossing her face. “Oh. This makes more sense. Rachel did say I would find Home in the West.”

She glanced around at the dumbfounded 118, shrugged and walked off.

Buck surveyed the reactions around him and wondered to himself if this would help his case that camp – and everyone associated with it – was entirely normal.

He nodded, resigned.

Four horrified faces looked back at him.

Guess not.

****

Buck managed to make it as far as the fire house before the 118 started asking their question. A level of restraint that he wasn’t aware they had.

“Who was that woman, Buck?” Bobby asked.

Athena, who entered the fire house as though summoned – Buck was unaware she had, in fact, been asked to attend by the 118 Group Chat, the one aptly named ‘Cult Classics’ – watched Buck attentively.

“She’s an old friend from camp.” He offered, non-committedly, staring at his coffee as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. “We don’t actually know each other that well.”

In fact, now that Buck thought about it, he had no idea about her life outside camp; she had been aged-out as long as he had, did she have a real job in the mortal world? Or did she work for New Rome, like a lot of the adult demi-gods he knew?

By the Gods, Buck wasn’t even sure he knew her last name.

The only thing he did know, as a direct result of camp gossip, was that she had recently been living with her mortal girlfriend out near New Jersey.

“You don’t know her but you’re fine with her staying at your place?” Eddie questioned.

Buck shrugged. “My Home is always open to friends and family.”

“She didn’t seem that friendly to me.” Chimney remarked, still bitter about being swatted away on multiple accounts. Hen elbowed him sharply.

“She seemed scared.” Bobby commented, beside him Athena’s face tightened.

“Does she need help?” Athena asked, expression intense.

Buck thought to the hoards of Ares kids – both the nicer ones and the ones that were likely hunting Clarisse down as they spoke – and then thought of Ares; while the God was a piece of work, he wouldn’t stand for her brother’s permanently maiming or killing her, not when she was the sole living recipient of the Blessing of Ares.

Buck shrugged. “I’m sure she’s fine.” He ignored Chimney’s interjection of ‘She was impaled!’. “Her brothers will calm down. And her dad won’t actually kill her.”

“You understand why that’s not as reassuring as you think, Buckaroo, don’t you?” Athena asked.

Buck blinked back at Athena, confused.

This was going to be a long shift.

** 3 **

The call came in about a small fire at a children’s foster home out east, causing adrenaline to rush through the 118 immediately. They abandoned Bobby’s long-awaited four-cheese lasagna without a second thought.

No-one enjoyed calls where kids were at risk, Bobby least of all.

Buck, along with the others, sent careful, assessing looks over at him every few minutes. Bobby ignored steadfastly ignored them.

“Buck. Eddie. You’re on hoses.”

Bobby directed Ravi and a few other firefighters to the east side of the foster home, where the fire was continuing to spread, as well as Hen and Chimney to the small cluster of volunteers, workers and children who appeared to have minor burns and smoke inhalation.

Bobby assessed the remaining crowd of people, searching. After only a minute, he identified the designated ‘fire wardens’ of the home, identifiable from their orange hi-vis vests.  

“Ma’am. I’m Bobby, Captain of the 118, I need your list of children and workers. Is everyone accounted for?”

“We’ve done the role call. Everyone’s accounted for.” The fire warden assured him.

Relief hit, as Bobby radioed the rest of the 118. He took the personnel list from her anyway; it would never hurt to do a second check.

“I’m Katie Walker, by the way, head of the foster home. I’ve got to make a few calls –“ Her voice was harried, no doubt realising with the destruction of the home, the two dozen children standing outside in their pajamas would all be requiring emergency placements at other group homes or with families. “ – but if you need someone to talk to, the head volunteer, Hestia, can help. She’s over there.”

Katie pointed to a woman in the corner, one who was currently soothingly reading to the younger children. The woman appeared just shy of Bobby’s age; dressed in a beige cashmere sweater, sat a small distance from the fire. She smiled at the small group of children, a warm, fond look crossing her face.

“Thanks.” Bobby said gratefully, but the woman was already fretfully talking on the phone. Taking the dismissal for what it was, Bobby moved towards the group.

It’s impressive, he thought, how the woman was managing to keep all the children so calm, despite the fire still raging around them.

“Sorry to interrupt, I was told to come talk to Hestia? I’m just wanting to double-check the list and make sure everyone is out safely.”

“I am Hestia.” The woman glanced up, smile lighting up her face. There was something knowing and familiar in her gaze. Her eyes were warm amber, flickering with the blaze despite being mostly turned away from the fire. “Just one moment, children. I’ll be back.”

“I’m Bobby. Captain of the 118.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Bobby. I hear you’ve made quite the Home of the 118.”

Bobby frowned, confused.

He scanned to her face again. He didn’t think he’d met her before; with such a welcoming smile, he was sure he’d recognise her if he had. But that wasn’t why he was here. “Can I just check with you, the names on this list are for the children here?”

****

As the fire simmered down, leaving a blackened carcass instead of a group home, Eddie wiped the soot off his face. Bobby had confirmed the attendees were safe and all who needed medical treatment had been treated by Hen and Chimney.

“118, back to the truck.” Bobby called out.

Eddie nodded, moving towards the fire truck. He glanced back over his shoulder, expecting Buck to be right behind him only for the spot to be empty.

“Buck?”

Maybe Buck has gone ahead.

Eddie approached the fire truck. Hen and Chimney were already in the back of their ambulance, packing away the final bandages. Ravi was coiling the hoses back into the compartments and Bobby was finalising the paperwork for the call out. But no Buck.

“You seen Buck anywhere?”

Chimney nodded back towards the remains of the house. “He’s chatting to one of the volunteers. Over there.”

Finally, Eddie spotted Buck standing talking quietly to one of the volunteers. It was too far away for Eddie to hear, but the conversation felt strangely intense. Their proximity was closer than that of strangers. There was something, too, in Buck’s stance; his head was bowed slightly, almost referentially.

Something about it set Eddie on edge.

“Who’s Buck talking to?” Eddie questioned.

Bobby’s head peeked out from the truck window, following Eddie’s gaze. “Ah. That’s the head volunteer. I think Ms. Walker said her name was Hestia something.”

Eddie stiffened.

His head snapped back to where Buck and the woman were talking, assessing the situation with new eyes.

Hestia?

It was a name that fuelled Eddie’s rage and his nightmares. It was the name of the woman – the monster – who’d bought Buck. Bought him as a child and done God knows what to him. As though he was some possession to be claimed, not a human being.

It couldn’t be.

Across the yard, Hestia reached out to touch Buck’s forehead. Her countenance suggesting she was bestowing some great honour.

“I’m going to kill her.”

“What?!” Bobby pushed out of the fire truck with vigour, as though moving to intercept Eddie. Hen and Chimney – who’d clearly heard Bobby’s alarmed question and could now see Eddie’s expression of pure rage – also moved to obstruct his pathway.

Eddie snarled at Chimney, as the man grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Let – go – of – me! That woman over there is the woman who bought Buck as a baby.”

Hen and Chimney’s reactions were instantaneous.

“Wha –?” Hen started, while Chimney swivelled around, immediately following Eddie on his tirade, no further information or evidence needed; Eddie wouldn’t play around with a situation like that.

“Eddie! Chimney!” Bobby called out after them, but they were already gone.

****

“Mom?”

Buck would have been less surprised to stumble across a tap-dancing laestragonean than to happen across Hestia at a call-out on a random Tuesday. Of all Gods, she was one least likely to leave her Home and Hearth.

Then again, Buck glanced at the remains of the Foster Home, her travelling the world to different group or foster Homes makes sense.

Hestia glances up, smile warming noticeably at his arrival. “Evan Buckley, my child.”

It had been nearly an entire year since he’d seen her; having been unable to Hearth Travel to Camp Half-Blood in the last few months due his relentless work schedule. He’d missed her.

Automatically, Buck reached out, moving to hug her.

She responded in kind, the flickering pulse of the Hearth embracing him. The feeling of Home all-encompassing. Hestia pulled back, eyes roving over his face and lingering on the bags under his eyes.

“You have been away from Home too long, you should visit my Hearth soon, my child.”

Buck ducked his head, abashed; he’d never received admonishment from Hestia, her parenting style too warm and encouraging for such tactics, but this felt like the closest he’d get. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve been meaning to come back, I’ve just been –“

“You’ve been busy firing your own Hearth, I understand.” Hestia lifted her hand out, touching his head in a familiar, soothing gesture.

Buck glanced around him at their setting. “You’re not looking around for a sibling for me, are you?” He asked, only half-joking.

Hestia laughed.

“Not today, my child. I was just tending to their Hearths, as I was prayed to do.”

Buck nodded, thoughtfully.

“I have a favour to ask of you, my child. There are some patrons of mine down by the water, not far from here on 22^nd Street. I ask that you tend their fire and give them whatever they need.”

It was rare for Hestia to ask him for a favour or send her on a quest of her own; very few people prayed to her in modern times, which only made him more determined to do what was asked of him.

He was distracted from their interaction by Bobby’s shouting, “Eddie! Chimney!”

Buck smiled over at Eddie, waving at him enthusiastically.

Eddie was approaching quickly – his expression oddly serious given the danger was over – and Buck was abruptly thankful Hestia was visiting the world in an older form, instead of her childlike form. He never usually minded what form she took; he would recognise her no matter what, but it would be less off-putting to introduce her as his mother while she’s in an older body.

“Oh, Eddie. Hey!” Buck almost glowed with happiness. “This is Hestia, my Mom!”

****

Confirmation. Eddie thought, seething.

It was confirmation that this was the woman who’d ‘claimed’ Buck. Who’d asked Buck for favours in return for paltry gifts. Who – inadvertently or otherwise – was responsible for the scars on Buck. The ones almost as familiar as his own bullet wounds. He’d seen them all: the stab wounds, the burns – both electrical and fire in origin – and the cuts.

“Hello, Edmundo Diaz. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The woman – depravity in human form – smiled at him.

Smiled at him.

Before Eddie had the chance to punch a woman – he’d never done so before, but this would surely count as extenuating circumstances; she would hardly count as an actual human in his mind – he was intercepted by both Bobby,, who held his shoulder in a claw-like grip, although he too was glaring a hole in the side of Hestia’s head, Chimney and the Director of the foster home.

“Hestia, we need some help with the transportation. Can you –?”

Hestia nodded.

She turned to Buck once more, smiling. “You’ll visit again soon, my child?”

Buck nodded his head, eagerly.

“And you’ll look into the favour I asked of you?”

Again, Buck nodded, this time more seriously.

Hestia moved forwards, as though to give Buck another hug, only for Eddie to step in-between them. There was no way he would stand by and watch her touch Evan, watch her manipulate him in any way. “Sorry, Buck. We’ve got to get back to the truck.”

Without waiting for his assent, Eddie started dragging Buck back towards the truck, unwilling to leave Buck behind with his so-called ‘parent’.

“Wha –? Bye, Mom!”

****

“That was your… Mom?” Hen asked slowly, the firetruck already moving away from the scene.

“Uh, yeah.” Buck answered, distractedly.

He was already looking up warehouses or shelters near 22^nd Street, unsure of how he’d find Hestia’s patrons but unwilling to take too long to fulfil her request.

“What favour was she asking of you?” Eddie asked, tone weirdly tight.

Buck looked up from his phone, “Oh, she wanted me to visit some people at a warehouse, give them a helping hand.”

Eddie twitched visibly in his seat.

“You okay, man?”

“Who is she wanting you to…help?” Bobby asked, turning fully in his seat in the front of the fire truck, doing his best to look Buck in the eyes.

“I don’t know.” Buck responded, eyes affixed back on the maps, seemingly unaware of the attention of the rest of the 118. “I never really know who her patrons are.”

“Patrons?” Eddie repeated, flatly.

“Yeah, patrons. I just turn up and give them whatever they ask me for.”

“You’re not going to some random warehouse to –“ Eddie cut himself off, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “I’m going with you.”

 “Really?” Buck looked up, “I mean, yeah! I’d love that. But not too many people…” He glanced around the truck. “My mom’s patrons usually prefer discretion.”

“I bet.” Came an angry mutter from Chimney.

“I’m glad you guys got to meet her!” Buck remarked, obliviously. “She rarely leaves Home. The family never likes it when she leaves; it’s always better when she’s Home, she’s the one that stays behind always, so it was nice to see her outside of camp or the Mount.”

There was an uncomfortable silence from that, none of them knowing how to break it.

The silence continued until they reached the fire house.

As Buck ambled into the station, the rest of the 118 lingered in the truck.

“We’re not letting him go there alone.”

There was a murmuring of assent between all of them.

Hen finally said what the rest of them had been thinking, “Was it just me, or did Buck make it sound like this Hestia woman is also a victim of this cult…?”

“No.” Bobby replied, watching Buck’s retreating form. “It wasn’t just you.”

With how long the camp had been operating for, it was just as likely that Hestia had once been a victim of the camp too; only now she continued to perpetuate the cycle, instead of breaking it.

The situation was more complicated than it seemed.

Chapter Text

Eddie didn’t know what to think of Buck’s ‘mother’.

He’d been on edge in the week after meeting her; constantly worried that Buck would go and do Hestia’s ‘favour’ and he’d be none the wiser.

Except, when the time came, Buck had asked Eddie to join him.

And, instead of whatever Eddie had expected, Buck had brought them to a rundown warehouse where four homeless people were huddled beside a dying fire. He’d offered them food and lit the dying embers with his Lighter. Buck had spoken to them, telling them that Hestia had sent him and that they would be looked after.

Eddie had watched the interaction with hawk-like precision, keeping lookout for any potential codewords being used or any predatory behaviour; he couldn’t be sure this meeting wasn’t just an initial meet-up with another following.

But… nothing.

It made him wonder if they were wrong – not necessarily about the camp as a whole, but about Hestia – maybe she really was just trying to help people. After all, would Buck really be so willfully ignorant of a whole trafficking ring? Maybe there was another explanation for what they’d been seeing.

Eddie couldn’t understand what that explanation would be, but he hoped – beyond anything – that there was another explanation.

** 4 **

It was a normal day at the firehouse, some might even have called it a Q-Word shift.

Eddie had gone to do so, before being glared at viciously by the rest of the 118, even Bobby, who claimed he didn’t believe the curse but refused to allow the word to be spoken in the station either way. So, when a young blonde man waltzed into the fire station with a baby in hand, Eddie didn’t immediately think anything of it.

The baby looked like a newborn, reddened and scrawny in a way that spoke to the recency of birth.

Eddie’s stomach dropped.

There were, of course, Safe Haven laws in California for a reason; allowing for the parent or guardians to surrender their infants without fear of prosecution within 72 hours, even so, it broke something in him to see it happen. He couldn’t imagine his life without Christopher in it.

The man holding the baby was young, early twenties at most, which might explain the inability to keep or provide for the child. He looked around, as though searching for something.

“Can we help you?” Bobby called out, approaching the man slowly.

The captain kept his tone neutral, but Eddie could tell he, too, had an inkling to why the man was there.

“I need Evan Buckley.” The man responded, not looking at the captain.

Bobby’s eyebrows furrowed, confused.

As though summoned, Buck poked his head over the railing, “Hey, the food’s ready, it just –“ He faltered, eyes widening in surprise. “Ap – Lester.”

Buck fumbled over the name, tellingly.

He raced to the stairs, rushing down them to meet the man – Lester – stopping only to look down at the baby.

“Whose baby is that?”

The rest of the A-Shift were watching the exchange across the station, interestedly.

The blonde man didn’t so much as look at the other firefighters, gaze fixed on Buck. “Evan Buckley, this is my son, Liam. His mother does not want him. I need you to look after him for a few hours until Will arrives.”

“Will’s coming?” Buck asked, relief crossing his face. “Thank the Gods.”

“I trust you will make sure Liam gets Home safely.” Apollo spoke, emphasising different parts of the sentence unusually, the tone coming across more commanding than anything else.

Buck nodded, reaching for the baby. “I can look after him until then… right Bobby?” Buck turned to the captain. “Can I be the man behind if a call comes in? Or can I have the rest of the afternoon off?”

Bobby hesitated, looking between the man – Lester – and Buck.

Who was this man? How did Buck know him?  He hadn’t even finished the thought when he grudgingly admitted to himself. This has something to do with that camp of Buck’s.

Bobby sighed, heavily.

“You can stay here until this… Will arrives.” Bobby agreed.

Buck let out his own relieved breath.

“I have to go, Evan Buckley.” Apollo turned but paused momentarily before leaving. “I’ll make sure to visit him.”

Buck’s eyebrows raised in astonishment.                                     

Buck knew that, of all the Gods, Hestia was one of the most proactive parents, which made sense given that he was, as far as he knew, her only child. Rarely did the Gods seek out their children unless it was the end of the world or they had some dire favour to be completed. He also knew that Apollo had previously had the reputation of being fairly non-committal in regard to his kids when Buck had been at camp, so to hear him actively committing to visiting his son – voluntarily, as well – reminded Buck that maybe he had changed from the Trials.

Buck only nodded in acknowledgement, unwilling to verbalise any of these thoughts, lest he potentially anger Apollo.

Finally, Apollo left him alone with the 118 and a baby demi-god, Buck glanced at the team. He smiled at them, warily.

Bobbby sighed again.

“Let’s find some baby formula then.” Bobby chivvied them all back to the loft. Baby formula was a standard resource at fire stations, for these very scenarios, so they weren’t short on supplies.

“Maybe we can take a look at Liam first, just to make sure he’s okay?” Hen offered, watching as Buck settled onto the couch with Liam, bouncing him with practiced arms.

Buck hummed his assent.

As Chimney and Hen began running through the standard checks on Liam, Eddie couldn’t help but ask. “Who was that man?”

“Oh… he’s kind of my cousin?”

Buck didn’t know if it was sacrilegious or not to claim any of the Gods as family, but considering Hestia was Apollo’s aunt, that would kind of make him Buck’s cousin by association. Buck mentally shrugged, the Greek God family tree got a bit loose after a while.

It seemed Eddie was also unsure of the definition of cousin in this case, as he asked again. “Like your cousin or your cousin?”

From the intonation, Buck could only assume he was being asked if this was a camp thing. He begrudgingly mumbled, “My camp cousin.”

“And this Will…” Hen queried, lightly. “Do you know him? Does he have the legal right to take the baby in?”

At this, Buck smiled. “Yeah. Of course, he’s Liams’ brother.”

Hen gave him a pointed look.

“Like actual, biological brother.” Buck stressed, before realising another potential problem. “On the mother’s side… obviously.”

Buck was rarely prepared for the realities of having to explain or obfuscate around the Gods’ ages; it was so much more difficult to explain why Apollo – who appeared to be in his twenties – would have a son, Will, who was also in his twenties.

“Obviously.” Hen repeated, deadpan.

“Don’t worry, Will is my brother. Camp brother,” Buck clarified. “He’s completely normal and absolutely the responsible type.”

Buck could only hope Will would choose today to pretend he was, in fact, normal.

Thankfully, the rest of the shift remained Q-word; no further calls came in for the follow hour and a bit.

Buck sat, baby in hand, watching the bay doors attentively, as though looking away would prevent Will from arriving. Because of that he was the first one to spot Will’s entrance.

He closed his eyes, praying to all the Gods he could think of – to Hecate, to any Gods who would be willing to respond – to make the Mist work overtime.

At the doors to the fire house stood Will.

He had blood dripping from a cut on his head and he was wearing a plaid jacket, which was torn on his arms in several places, a sword strapped to his hip and a bow strung across his shoulder.

Please let him look normal to them, Buck mentally chanted, please let him look normal.

Will caught Buck’s eyes from across the bay and smiled.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

****

When Buck said Will was ‘completely normal’, maybe they should have asked more about that. Honestly, it said more about them that they had taken that classification at face value than it did about Buck; they knew his version of normal was warped. So, when ‘Will’ arrived, looking like he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, with a crowbar strapped to his belt and baseball bat strapped to his shoulder, Eddie could only blame himself.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had.” Will called up to Buck, gaining the attention of the rest of the group.

“Will!” Buck rushed down the stairs – as carefully as one could when holding a sleeping newborn – and side-arm hugged the man.

“And this must be Liam!” Will cooed down at the baby. “My dad mentioned that I should come get him. You know, when Nico and I prayed to the Gods for a family and kids, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

“You and Nico were thinking of adopting?” Buck didn’t know why the idea surprised him so much; they had been dating for over a decade and in the last few years Nico and Will had settled into a more laid-back lifestyle, post-Tartarus.

“Guess the Gods heard our prayers.” Will joked.

He took the baby off of Buck, tucking Liam into his arms, rocking him carefully, a skull ring glinting from one of his fingers.

“Is Nico here?” Buck glanced behind Will, as though his boyfriend would appear from the shadows. Which, not that the rest of the 118 knew, he could.

Will shook his head.

“He can shad- travel here tomorrow, though, to pick us up. Can I stay the night at yours?”

Buck huffed a laugh. “We shared a cabin for years; I think we can manage a sleepover at mine.”

 “Ah, Buck.” Bobby interrupted, hesitantly. His gaze flickered carefully between the two, unsure of whether he should intervene at all. “We’re having the family barbeque at mine tomorrow, but since Will is your –“ He hesitated once more. “ – brother, he’s more than welcome to join. Him, his partner and Baby Liam, of course.”

Buck’s eyebrows rose in response. He’d never have thought Bobby would willingly invite his camp compatriots to such an event.

He tilted his head at Will questioningly.

Will eyed Bobby and the rest of the team, before asking Buck in ancient Greek. “Do they know? You know, about anything?”

Buck responded in kind. “No. But you could still come along. I think you’d really enjoy it.” He faltered slightly. “I don’t know if Nico will, but –“

“Nico will pretend he doesn’t, but he secretly will.”

Buck’s smile brightened. “So, you’ll come?”

“I’ll come.” Will agreed.

“Perfect.” Buck said, in English.

He looked back at his teammates. Chimney stood, mouth half-hanging open, expression gobsmacked. Eddie’s eyes were narrowed, as though attempting to de-code their conversation through concentration alone. Meanwhile, Bobby and Hen both wore impressed expressions.

It was one thing to hear Buck mutter Greek prayers before dinner; it was a whole other thing to hear him hold an actual conversation in Greek.

Liam started wriggling in Will’s hold, awakening slightly.

“I should probably get this one settled,” Will offered, awkwardly. “I’d love to come to the barbeque tomorrow.” And to Buck he offered. “I’ve still got the keys from my last visit, so I’ll see you back at yours!”

Buck waved as Will left.

That had gone surprisingly well.

“Should we have had someone check out his head wound while he was here?” Chimney asked the room at large.

Buck barely held back the urge to facepalm.

****

“There’s something I should probably tell you before tomorrow.” Buck started, chopping carrots in his kitchen, watching Will cooing at baby Liam from the dining room table.

“Yeah?”

“It might be best not to mention much from camp… my team kind of thinksIwasinacult.” Buck rushed the latter half of his sentence, as though it would soften the blow.

Will’s head snapped up, his eyes sharpening. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t even know how it happened! Just four years in and they turn around and tell me they’ve been thinking I was in a cult this whole time!”

“What did you tell them?!” Will asked, appalled.

“Something about us all being claimed to be part of a camp and that we do favours for our parents… and they may be suspicious of my scars. And the fact that I don’t know much about the outside world –”

“Buck!”

“ –And the only people they’ve met from camp has been Logan, from Jupiter, and Clarisse.”

That did it.

Will broke into fits of laughter, tears rolling down his cheeks at the idea of Clarisse, of all people, being the one to represent Camp Half-Blood as ‘normal’.

“Will. This is serious.” Buck stressed, in-between Will’s giggles. “They think I was abused or something.”

The laughter petered out at Buck’s increasingly agitated expression. “Okay. Okay.” Will held his hands out soothingly. “I’ll help you out. You tell me what you want me to say.” He held Buck’s gaze, seriously, vowing. “I’ll make sure we come across as normal as possible.”

Without warning, the shadows behind Will exploded in size.

His shadow elongated unnaturally, coiling up the wall. From the inky blackness, a man stepped out, wreathed in darkness; all of the shadows clinging and dripping off him like oil.

It was Nico.

Buck gave them both an unimpressed glare.

“Okay. This is what I’m talking about. Normal does not include –“

****

Buck arrived at the barbeque, high-strung and anxious, Will, Nico and baby Liam in tow.

Will and Nico had been given a full crash course of things they should and should not say. Ranging from mentioning anything about their fucked-up family tree to mentions of their training and involvements in either of the Giant Wars. Buck had ignored the muttered ‘What are we allowed to talk about?’ from Nico.

Buck and Nico got on well, all things considered.

Nico was one of the few campers who went out of their way to visit Buck’s mother, Hestia, in her Hearth and honour her directly. And Buck, similarly, had made sure to welcome Nico personally to camp when he joined, gifting him his customary Home-made bracelet of protection. The way Nico’s eyes had welled upon receiving it had endeared him to Buck ever since. Though that didn’t stop Buck from trying to give Nico a shovel-talk when he found out he and Will were dating. Turns out, it’s pretty difficult to give a shovel talk to the demi-god of death. Telling Hades’ son that he would kill him, if he hurt Will, earned him nothing but an amused huff.

Still, Nico had appreciated the attempt at including him and, by virtue of Buck visiting Will a lot, they had become reluctant friends, with the reluctance being solely on Nico’s part.

Buck knocked.

Athena answered the door.

Her face lit up with a smile as she saw Buck, but her eyes remained shrewd.

Her eyes lingered on Nico, on his painfully thin frame, his almost sunken cheeks and the slash scars on his face – ones that Buck knew he’d sustained from Nico and Will’s encounter in Tartarus with Amphithemis – but instead of mentioning them, she only smiled warmly.

She hugged Buck, before addressing the other two. “I’m Athena, come on in. It’s always nice to meet more of Buck’s family.”

Buck entered, ignoring Will’s mouthed ‘Athena?!’ as he did.

“We’re happy to have been invited.” Will offered instead, he offered the plate of Buck’s Home-made lasagna out to her. Will had wanted to bring something more meaningful for his first, proper meeting with Buck’s team, but Buck had outright veto-ed anything involving a personalised sonnet or poetry.

Unusually, for one of Bobby and Athena’s barbeques, Buck was the last person to arrive; every seemed to have arrived on-time, if not early. Practically, unheard of in the various households with children; typically, all of them trailed in as the schedules allowed.

Instead, all of the 118 and family were there. Chimney and Maddie; Hen, Karen and Denny; Eddie and Chris; Ravi; Athena, Bobby and May were all there.

Buck wondered why they were all so early.

“Everyone, this is Will, my brother. His partner, Nico. And, of course, Liam!” Buck introduced the other demi-gods, pointing them out before repeating the introductions of the 118.

“I’ll grab you both plates.” Buck offered.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Buck slipped out to the kitchen to dish out food.

Hen, mercifully, broke it. “You’re Buck’s camp brother, then?” She asked Will, interestedly.

“Yeah,” Will answered, carefully. “Though we’re not actually related.”

“We guessed that.” Chimney commented. Hen ignored him. “But you’ve known Buck a while then?”

“Oh yeah, we met when I first joined camp. Buck had been there a year or two by that point. Practically a veteran. We didn’t spend much time together… mainly because Buck was joined at the hip with Mr D.’s twins.” Will’s sunny smile faltered slightly. “Before, you know, Castor died.”

Will cringed.

He’d been there for all of two minutes, and he’d already stumbled on a proverbial landmine.

“You all work at the 118 then?” Will hurried to ask, preventing the team from jumping on the death of a camp mate.

“I don’t.” The woman – Maddie – offered. “I’m Buck’s sister.”

Both Nico and Will shared a careful glance.

“His sister?” Nico repeated. “It’s always nice for one of us to have family outside of camp.”

Will could count only a handful of other campers who had siblings outside of camp and even fewer who were in regular contact with them; Annabeth – if he recalled – had two half siblings, Percy had Estelle, but most who had siblings outside of camp were unable to relate to the reality of ‘normal’ mortals.

Maddie’s face scrunched in confusion.

“None of you have siblings outside of camp?” She asked.

Will winced; of all topics, Nico’s sisters were not the best ones to start with either. “Not many of us do. I had two who went to camp… briefly.” Nico intoned, blessedly calm, considering the topic. “My sister, Bianca, died when I was twelve shortly after joining camp. But my half-sister, Hazel, is still alive. She works at a military camp in California.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be Camp Jupiter, would it?” Athena asked.

Nico’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You know of it?”

“We’ve met one of its former attendees.”

Maddie moved closer to Will, lowering her voice to speak to him alone. “I just wanted to say thank you. As a fellow sibling of Buck’s –“ She clarified. “I just wanted to thank you for being there for him when I couldn’t. And for looking out for him.”

Will faltered, slightly. He matched the volume of her words, though could tell the rest of the group and Nico, alike, were unsubtly following their conversation. “It’s fine. Besides, Buck’s the one who protected us really.”

He thought back to all the times Buck had made his bracelets, his food and other Hearth-made items, infused with protection and wards.

“He went out of his way to make sure we were protected from harm.”

Will glanced up only to see Maddie’s now stricken expression.

“I mean –“

Buck chose that moment to return, carrying two plates ladened with food, Eddie on his heels. He glanced nervously at the group, passing the plate around and asking. “Everything okay?”

Will nodded awkwardly, with Nico mutely following suit.

Buck reached for his Lighter as unobtrusively as possible – which was to say, not at all – and lit a piece of meat on fire, a silent prayer sent to Hestia.

Will gestured to the Lighter, “Can we?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Buck passed the Lighter to Will, who lit a small morsel of his own meal alight before passing the Lighter to Nico. Eddie – and the rest of the 118 – watched the interaction with rapt interest. All of them noting the similarity in prayers and mannerisms.

Buck felt the imbuing of energy from a sacrifice to the Hearth so close to him. He willed himself – praying to the Gods – for his skin not to glow as a result, like it so often did when he was close to the kids sacrificing their food at camp.

Given the lack of reaction from the team, he could only assume his skin wasn’t displaying a discernible glow.

Hen cleared her throat, hoping that would make up for the uneasy silence that had fallen across the group and asked Will, interestedly. “What do you do, Will?”

Buck smirked down at his plate.

“Ah.” Will rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I’m a doctor.”

“Wow, that’s impressive!” Hen smiled broadly. “Your family must be really proud of you.”

Nico snorted loudly and Buck muffled a quiet laugh into his hand, he mouthed to Will when he was certain the team wasn’t watching ‘A doctor – really original!’

Will elbowed Buck.

“Ignore them.” Will flushed with the praise. “Being in medicine is a family business. In fact,” Will made eye contact with Buck assuredly. “At camp, the family ends up producing a lot of doctors. A few of my siblings ended up joining Doctors Without Borders last year. They do a lot of wonderful things with the opportunities they’ve been given.”

Buck would sacrifice many, many meals to Will at dinner, if he could continue putting in a good word for camp.

“That’s impressive.” Athena commented, blithely. “And what about you, Nico?”

“I’m, uh –“ Nico hesitated, eyes flickering to Will for support. “I’m an advisor to my father’s business.” There was a lilt at the end of his sentence, as though he was asking a question.

“What’s your father’s business in?” Athena pressed. Her eyes flickering to the scars on his face.

“I –“ Nico started.

As though sensing danger, Will hastily interrupted. “His father does this and that… but with Liam now, Nico will be looking to take a step back from active work. Looking to be a stay-at-home dad, aren’t you Nico?”

Nico gratefully responded. “Um. Yeah.”

Buck cut in. “That’s actually something I wanted to ask. Have you thought about if Liam’s going to call you dad… or brother? Like won’t that be weird when he ends up going to camp?”

Will sniggered, shrugging. “It’s hardly the weirdest relation at camp, you know how the family tree tends to get a bit incestuous if you think about it too lo–“

“Maybe now isn’t the right time for this discussion.” Nico interrupted with a pointed look at the horrified 118.

“Great idea.” Buck hurried on. “Who wants another drink?”

****

Hours into the barbeque, Buck and Will stood to the side watching the room.

“I think this really helped, thank you, Will. I honestly thought this was going to go really wrong.”

“I know,” Will whispered back. “I’m just glad you didn’t start glowing when we were making the sacrifices.”

Buck hummed in agreement. “I know! That only happens visibly when I’m close to the Hearth… but still, it could have gone much worse.”

****

From across the room, Nico stood with Athena listening raptly.

Nico shrugged in response to her question. “I only know so much about poker because of the years I was held captive as a child, in a casino, with my sister.”

Athena’s hands paused as she pulled up her voice note’s app, pressing record. “Can you tell me more about that?”

** 5 **

There was a bus resting precariously atop a cliff.

The 118 had been called to help rescue a group of a dozen or so girl scouts the bus. How the bus got into its position atop the cliff was anyone’s guess.

They were in a national forest, trees surrounding the cliff line and balancing on a ledge, around thirty feet down the cliffside, sat the bus.

“Alright everyone, you know the drill.” Bobby called out. Chimney was on the winch, peering down the cliff face; Hen was waiting by the ambulance, medical gear ready; while Eddie and Buck were gearing up to abseil down the cliff.

Buck strapped into his harness, magnanimously allowing Eddie to double-check it. He pulled Eddie’s straps tighter in retaliation. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“We don’t have an exact figure on the number of girls in the bus. So, Eddie, Buck, your jobs are to get the wounded out as quickly as possible, if you can. Let me us know the numbers and we’ll get things prepped.”

Typical routine would have Buck head into the bus and assist any moveable patients to Eddie’s escape harness and as needed, get Eddie to treat the more critically wounded.

“Let’s go, cowboy.” Eddie patted Buck, teasingly.

Buck felt himself flush, eyes dropping to Eddie’s lips, before shaking himself; now wasn’t the time.

Leaning over the edge, Buck began the slow descent down the cliff.

“Hey, it’s the LAFD, fire department here!” Buck called out. “We’re here to help you all get out.” Finally reaching the bus, touching down lightly, pausing as the bus groaned with the movement.

Buck peaked through the caved in bus doors, only to stumble in pure shock.

“Thalia?!”

“Buck?!”

Staring back at him was the eternally immortal face of Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus and Hunter of Artemis.

This wasn’t a bus full of girl scouts.

This was a bus full of Hunters of Artemis.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Buck muttered.

“Buck?” Eddie called out from outside the bus. “How’s it looking?”

“Uh. Yeah. All good so far!” Buck called out distractedly. Turning to Thalia, re-assessing the carnage with the trained eyes of a demi-god. Scratches littered the side of the bus, along with distinct hoof marks and there were – tellingly – feathers everywhere.

They must be fighting a Hippalectryon: a hybrid creature, half-horse, half-rooster. However, let it be said they were far more lethal than the description ‘half-horse, half-rooster’ would lead someone to believe. Buck would know; he had slash scars on his back to prove it.

“Did you kill it?” Buck questioned, urgently.

Thalia shook her head. “No. It dropped us off the edge of the cliff. But it’s still here, we heard it flapping around earlier, circling us.”

Buck re-examined the Hunters, identifying at least seven injured immortals – at least two with various broken limbs and bleeding profusely – and another three uninjured Hunters, excluding Thalia. Making the number eleven in total.

“Eleven girl scouts on the bus.” Buck ignored Thalia’s outraged expression at the epithet. “Seven injured and four uninjured. We’ll start evacuating them now.”

“We’re not leaving until we kill it.”

“The longer you’re in here, the longer my team are out there. Exposed. Where the hippalec–hippalect–“ Buck gritted his teeth and bit out. “Where the horse-rooster thing is.” He ignored Thalia’s smirk. “Let my team get you out, treat whoever is wounded, and the rest of you can deal with the monster. Okay?”

Thalia caught eyes with another of the girls, who nodded at her, before begrudgingly sighing. “Fine. Take Jo first, then Emmie.”

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice called out again, from outside the bus, more worriedly this time.

“I’m sending the first few out to you now.” Buck answered. He approached the groaning girls warily. “Hi, I’m Buck. I’m son of Hestia. I’m here to help you, please don’t scream.”

He passed the more critically injured pre-teens his emergency stash of nectar and ambrosia.

Finding one of the more injured girls, Buck positioned himself to lift the girl. Despite the slash wounds and visibly broken arm, the girl gave Buck the stink-eye.

Buck sighed, repeating his earlier statement. “I’m Buck. The blessed demi-god of Hestia. Maiden-Goddesses’ chosen kids unite!” Buck lifted his fist, lamely.

The girl lifted her head, giving him an incredulous stare.

She turned to Thalia, meeting Thalia’s steely look, before reluctantly nodding permission. Buck waited only another moment longer, before lifting the first girl from the ground. The bus wobbled unsteadily before settling once more.

Buck met Eddie at the door.

In-sync, Eddie strapped the first girl – Jo – into the mobile stretcher; straps fitting awkwardly around what Buck knew was her bow and quiver. What Eddie saw them as through the Mist, Buck could only guess. Eddie started the assent with her slowly.

He repeated the process several more times, until only Thalia and Buck remained on the bus.

“All clear up here.” Bobby confirmed on the radio, “Send the last girl up.”

Eddie approached the bus door again.

Buck and head girl scout were in a hushed, weirdly intense conversation.

“ – you call me a girl scout one more time.”

“You’re the one in the uniform, Girl Scout. Or would you prefer Pinecone Head? Nico would get a kick out of this.”

“You’re so immature!”

“You’re one to talk, ‘Miss I’m-Going-To-Be-Sixteen-Forever’!”

“Um… Buck?” Eddie interrupted.

The two whirled around, almost guiltily.

“Sorry.” Buck replied to Eddie. “Come on then, let’s get you back to your team, Girl Scout.” Thalia’s scowl deepened.

Eddie reached out to hook Thalia into the rescue ring, only for Thalia to jerk back, her eyes on the now visible height they were dangling at.

She stepped back minutely, her hands starting to shake.

“Eddie, let me.” Buck took the safety harness from Eddie, moving to catch Thalia’s eyes.

“It’s okay. We’re going to hook this round you; it’s not going to break. You’ll be back on solid ground in no time. Come on,” He jibbed, trying to loosen the tension. “ – this can’t be harder than when you pushed that rock for Sisyphus.”  Buck had only ever heard rumours about the time the children of the Big Three ended up on an impromptu trip to the Underworld for Persephone, but it had gone round the camp for weeks afterwards. “You didn’t survive everything in Manhattan to be scared of this!”

Eddie was silent from his position dangling beside them; having caught on that either they knew each other, or Buck was making some wild attempts to calm down the sixteen-year-old.

“Okay, okay.” Thalia repeated, clearly attempting to hype herself up. “Alright then, Home Boy. Take me Home.”

Buck strapped her into the ring, avoiding Eddie’s piercing gaze as he did.

He nodded in Eddie’s direction.

They began their assent upwards.

****

Pandemonium is what they arrived to.

Loud, nickering could be heard echoing the clifftop, from no discernible direction and evidence of talon strikes littered the ground.

Buck unclipped Thalia, fast.

The uninjured Hunters – contrary to the 118’s attempts to get them to safety – were assembled in a ‘V’ formation, bow and arrows out and poised.

Suddenly, the hippalectryon burst through the tree line eliciting a sharp cry of surprise from Hen and a shriek from Chimney.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie yelled.

Since Buck couldn’t confidently tell what exactly Eddie was seeing through the Mist and what he wasn’t, he couldn’t answer Eddie’s question with any certainty.

The hippalectryon lunged forward, missing the three of them by millimetres.

“You tell me.” He answered instead, ducking another swipe of the rooster talons.

Several silver arrows flew by Buck’s head.

The world around him focused – battle-worn instincts slowing the world down and honing his perception – the demi-god equivalent of ADHD settling over him like a well-worn blanket.

Eddie stumbled and looked back towards the firetruck.

Seizing his moment, with a half-forgotten, reflexive move, Buck pulled a flame from his ever-present Lighter and planted his foot – like Haley had taught him all those years ago – and pushed the flame of the Hearth out.

The hippalectryon let out a pained sound, some of its lower feathers catching on fire with the heat.

“Did that drone just explode next to you?! Are you okay?” Eddie’s voice cut through Buck’s focus.

Drone, Eddie had said. Buck looked back at the monster. How did that get translated into a drone by the Mist?! Unlike the times he’d seen the body of monsters ‘Mist-ed’ into likenesses of tanks or the talon of something into a pole, Buck really couldn’t understand this one. Then again, with his difficulty working regular smart phones, Buck had even less experience with drones.

“Buck! Duck!”

Instinct had him moving before his brain had fully comprehended the order, he flattened himself and Eddie onto the ground.

A silver arrow whizzed past his head, imbedding itself firmly into the hippalectryon’s eye; and, from the way the monster slumped onto the ground with a decisive thwack, into its brain.

Chimney peered up over the side of the overturned winch. “Everyone all good?”

****

The police were called.

This was both a good and bad thing.

Good thing, because it meant all the Hunters of Artemis begrudgingly submitted to be tended while waiting for a more opportune moment to escape. Bad thing, because the responding officer was Athena.

She arrived, marching onto the scene, notebook at the ready and immediately directed to Thalia and Buck; nowhere for either of them to run.

Buck attempted to fade out and leave Thalia to the explanations, but the eternal sixteen-year-old grabbed the back of his overall, tight. She hissed at him, “If I have to go through all this, then so – do – you!”

In the background, Buck could hear the Hunters stubbornly refusing Chimney’s treatment, requesting Hen, and Hen alone, to administer any treatment or medications. He caught the subtle, concerned looks exchanged at the request. Buck mentally sighed, adding yet another thing to the list of ‘Things that make camp look bad’.

“ – to meet you, Thalia. My name’s Sergeant Athena Grant.” Buck saw Thalia visibly contain her reaction to Athena’s name. “Reports say the drone was targeting you for something.”

Athena’s tone was neutral, but her gaze was scrutinising as she took in Buck’s companionable stance with Thalia and Thalia’s firm grip on Buck’s coat. “Do you have any idea why that might be?”

“Uh.” Thalia glanced to Buck for support. Buck shrugged. “No?”

Athena’s eyes caught on the necklace around Thalia’s neck. It was a familiar thread of beads, identical – barring a bead or two – to Buck’s own. Similarly, on her wrist, was an achingly familiar bracelet; Buck had been, for all the years Athena had known him, making and gifting bracelets to their ever-expanding circle of friends and family. He called the bracelets his ‘good luck’ charms. Athena had three at home, even David – Michael’s husband – had been gifted one at one point. And here, was a teenager, who Athena had never laid eyes on in her life, wearing one.

She sighed, eyes lifting to the sky in an attempt to steel herself.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Buck from anywhere else, would you?”

Buck scuffed the ground with the tip of his boots. He mumbled, “She’s my cousin… From camp.”

“Was this an attack on you? Either of you? Or on you girls?” Athena asked insistently. Her gaze flickered between the two of them, urging them to say something, anything. “Are you under surveillance or in danger in any way?”

Thalia cleared her throat. “No? Me and the other… girl scouts –” Buck could see the way Thalia gritted her teeth saying the words. “ – were on our way to see our, uh, Patron. To g – go hunting…for animals!”

Buck exhaled, wearily. Did Thalia have any idea what girl scouts did?

Athena’s eyebrow rose, unimpressed. “Where are all of your parents? Is there an adult here?” Her eyes roved over the other ten girls, all ranging between twelve to sixteen. “Or some person responsible for all of you?”

“I am.” Thalia rebutted.

“Then who was driving the bus?” Athena countered.

“Uh. Yeah. There was someone driving the bus… he, uh, ran off when we crashed.” Thalia widened her eyes at Buck imploringly.

Buck sighed again, “Can you give us a moment, ‘Thena?” Without waiting for a response, Buck pulled Thalia a metre of so away, before whispering. “Someone else needs to come and get you. You think we could ask Argus?”

“From New York?! Yeah, no, that would take forever, even for us. No, Artemis will send someone, she’d know we’ve encountered trouble by now.”

“Can’t you use the Mist?” Buck hissed. “Make my team think someone has come to collect you.”

Thalia snorted. “Do you even know how the Mist works? I couldn’t do that. I doubt even a child of Hecate could do that without significant help. Maybe Hazel could, but there’s a whole squad of police officers here now, and your team. Can’t you just tell your team you’ll take us?”

Buck rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “Uh, no. I can’t. The less I’m involved the better…” At her confused expression, he finally admitted. “They think I was in a cult.”

Thalia couldn’t hold back her laugh.

“Oh Gods, that’s brilliant.” Noticing the attention she’d garnered from the people around her, and Athena’s continued watchful staring, she made an effort to stem her laughter. “But, just so you know, we kind of are in a cult. I literally pledged my allegiance and life to the service of my patron. I don’t know what else you’d call that.”

Buck opened his mouth to respond, only to hear a commotion on the other side of the firetruck.

“Hey, man. I’m just here to pick up my cousin and her friends.”

From around the side of the truck, with both Bobby and Chimney either side of him trying to prevent him from entering the scene, came Apollo. He was dressed in attire similar to his last appearance at the firehouse, but with obnoxiously large sunglasses now resting on his head.

Catching sight of Thalia and Buck, he smiled brightly. His white teeth glinting in the sunlight. “Ah, my cousins! Have no fear, my sister asked me to do the favour of escorting you back to camp or the Waystation. You can thank me later.”

“Aren’t you the guy who dropped off the baby at the station?” Eddie asked, approaching where Athena, Buck and Thalia were congregated.

“That’s me.” Came Apollo’s oblivious response. “Here –“ He offered Athena a stack of papers, carelessly. “My sister said these would answer your questions.”

Athena began rifling through the pages, inspecting them carefully, her frown deepening with every page.

Eddie watched Buck’s face, attempting to get an understanding of Buck’s thoughts. He moved closer, whispering to the man. “Are we okay with this? Him taking all of the girls with him?”

To Eddie, it didn’t look great; a 20-something man taking a bus full of twelve to sixteen-year-old girls, with only his and one of the girls’ word that they were ‘cousins’. And that was likely a loose use of the word cousin at best, knowing that it was used tangentially in relation to Buck’s camp. It was even more suspicious when he considered the fact that not even two weeks ago, the man dropped off a baby – of unknown origins – to the firehouse with only the explanation that ‘his mother didn’t want him’.

Who’s to say this wasn’t another rung on the potential trafficking ring?

“I trust him.” Buck responded. Kind of, he amended mentally. For this, at least.

“He does have all the paperwork he needs.” Athena admitted begrudgingly.

Apollo’s smile broadened.

“He cuz,” He nudged Thalia when he reached her side. “It’s been a while! I haven’t seen you since my Trials and everything in Manhattan.”

“I saw you last year, at the camp memorial commemoration.” Thalia gave him a deadpan look.

Eddie shot Buck another alarmed look, thinking,Trials?! Had this man been arrested? Hadn’t Buck been encouraging Thalia saying she hadn’t survived Manhattan for this? What happened in Manhattan?

“Ah, yes.” Apollo shrugged, “I guess you all better come with me.”

Thalia glared. “Alright. But no picking fights with any of the hu – girls or I’ll set your car ablaze.”

There was a sudden hair-raising tension in the air, an almost static electric feeling permeating, only abating when Apollo nodded acquiescingly.

The girls began following after Apollo, both the injured and uninjured. The 118 team watching them leave with reluctance. Before they climbed into a modified version of Apollo’s red convertible, Buck called out.

“Wait!” And letting his instinct lead him, he began a Greek blessing, a prayer wishing them safe journey Home.

While the Hunters – barring Thalia – had done what they could to avoid interaction with him during this escapade, each of them still bowed their head in respect. Each acknowledging the blessing from the chosen child of another maiden goddess.

In Greek, Thalia responded. “We thank you and accept your prayer.”

Similarly, Apollo left with a more comforting smile. “Do not worry, they are safe with me.”

****

Athena sat in her office at the police station, Detective Lou Ransone beside her.

She’d been reviewing the paperwork that Buck’s cousin – Lester – had given them, trying to find something, anything that would give them an idea of what was going on here; there had to be a mistake, something that could expose them.

She was convinced there was more going on here.

Lou had been going through each document with a fine toothcomb; he’d long since learned to trust her on her hunches, she was rarely wrong. And there.

“Athena, I’ve found something.” Her face snapped up, she shuffled the chair closer to him, eagerly checking the documents he had before him. “The rest of the documents are all in order, but I finally found the IDs on the girls. They’re fake. All of them. They’re very good fakes, but look –“

On first review, the IDs all appeared in order; the photos, the information, the names. All except the dates of birth.

Athena frowned.

The ID for Thalia Grace would have the girl being in her thirties, a few years older than Buck. Which couldn’t be true; the girl was sixteen at her oldest.

And once they noticed the dates, the pattern became clear across all of the girls’ IDs. Some were more realistic than others; some had the girls at their actual ages, in and around twelve to sixteen, but one of them had a girl at over a hundred years old.

It was sloppy.

It wasn’t what she would have expected from such a widespread trafficking organisation. But then again, the young man – Lester – hadn’t appeared prepared to pick the girls up, it was likely a last-minute cobbling of paperwork to fool the police. It worked at the time, but now it would be the first crack in the iceberg.

And Athena would bring it all down.

** +1 **

Buck had never spent much time with Chimney’s brother, Albert. Despite being the younger brothers of Chimney and Maddie, respectively, they’d only spent a few ‘family’ dinners together and the occasional wider whole 118 barbeques. However, family was family, so when Chimney decided to move back in with Maddie during the pandemic, Buck offered for Albert to stay with him.

He could never had predicted what happened with Albert.

“Thanks, Buck.” Albert said, dropping the last of his bags in Buck’s living room. “I appreciate it, man.”

“Anything for family! Hey, you want anything to eat? I’ve got some baked brie round here somewhere –“

Albert made a wide sweep around the apartment, assessing Buck’s bookcase, shelves and the photos hung on the walls. The books interested him immediately; with half of the books being in what he could only assume was Greek. He’d heard all about Buck’s so-called cult from Chimney, he was very curious to see how that manifested in Buck’s living situation.

But so far, it seemed like Buck was totally normal, despite the way he was raised.

That is, until Albert saw the photos on the wall.

“Hey, Buck. How come all the kids in these photos have swords and arrows? And why are they wearing battle armour?”

There was a loud clang as the pot Buck was holding crashed to the floor.

“What?”

“In the photos.” Albert clarified, pointing up at the pictures of Buck and other kids, all decked in orange T-Shirts and holding an eclectic mix of weapons. “Were you just really into LARP-ing as a kid? Or…” Albert glanced back at the photo, confusedly. “Or was that a cult thing?”

He whispered the word ‘cult’; he was also well aware of the dislike Buck had for the word from Chimney’s rants.

“You can see that?!” Buck vaulted the marble table-top, grabbing the scruff of Albert’s shirt when he reached him. “You can see the swords and armour?! What about this?” Buck fumbled with his Lighter, presenting it to Albert excitedly.

“It’s a Lighter?” Albert answered, slowly. “With a symbol on it. I guess it looks like a pillar and a fire?”

“No way.” Buck whispered. None of the 118 had ever been able to discern the symbol, always commenting instead that it looked like a smudge. “You can see through the Mist!”

“Sorry?” Albert’s eyebrows had furrowed, his confusion deepening.

Buck tilted his head, assessing Albert in a new light. “Have you ever seen anything… strange? Or weird? Something you couldn’t explain to anyone or that no-one else could see?”

Albert paled, lips parting.

Taking that for the answer it was, Buck continued. “Is that why you left South Korea?”

Albert nodded earnestly.

“People never believed me when I told them I saw things!” Albert answered, equally as eager as Buck.

He’d lived his entire life seeing weird and fantastical creatures and occurrences, only for no-one to believe him. It had been understandable as a child, but as an adult his parents had much less patience for it; he’d learned to hide his reactions, but that, too, only lead him to feel more disconnected and isolated from both his mother and father. He’d hoped moving from South Korea would offer him that new perspective, maybe make him less likely to see ‘weird’ things.

And now, Buck stood in front of him, with potentially the very answers he’d been seeking his whole life.

“What does it mean? Does this relate to your cult?”

Buck took a deep breath. “What do you know of the Greek Gods and different pantheons?”

****

Every day since he’d learned the truth of what he saw, Albert had new questions for Buck.

“Did you know that you glow when you light food on fire?”

Buck choked on the food he’d been eating, “I knew that I did sometimes… are you saying I always glow when I make a sacrifice?”

Albert nodded.

“Dude, why would you not mention that?”

Albert gave Buck a look. “Do you know how rude it is to comment on what other people’s skin looks like? What if it was a normal thing for your kind?”

****

Albert popped up from behind Buck, watching the way Buck threw small balls of fire between his hands. “Duuuude. You can make fire appear from nowhere? Why would you not do that all of the time?!”

Buck fumbled with the ball of fire, the flame fizzling out in his hands. “Because I’m not a psychopath.” He retorted. “And I’m literally a firefighter.”

****

“ –What about sword fighting? Could you teach me how to do that?”

Buck had to wonder if this was how the rest of the 118 felt whenever he went on his own deep dives or tirades.

He thought back to his own attempts to learn how to swordfight. The mishaps and scars he’d collected. The only reason he was proficient with one now was solely as a result of the two wars he’d fought in; he had no natural abilities, unlike his former cabinmates.

“I don’t think you’d want me to teach you.” An image of Clarisse, in full body armour, attempting to teach Albert how to fight flitted through his mind. “I don’t think you’d want any of my other cousins to teach you either.”

Unimpeded, Albert asked. “Can you teach me some swears in ancient Greek?”

That, Buck could do.

****

Buck’s heart was hammering in his chest.

He clattered into the living room, searching for Albert. “Tell me you didn’t eat the cookies?!”

His gaze caught the Tupperware full of cookies sitting innocently on the coffee table beside Albert. Albert glanced guiltily between the cookies, his hand holding an uneaten cookie and Buck. “Why? You said any baked goods were free game. What would be wrong if I did eat them?”

Buck rushed to slap the cookie out of Albert’s hand.

“Those cookies are made of ambrosia! They were for my cousin’s birthday this weekend. If a mortal eats one – Mist-seeing or not – it’d burn right through them!” His eyes roved across Albert’s face, wondering how long it would take him to Hearth-travel them to camp to be seen by one of the Apollo campers.

Albert’s mouth hung open, horrified.

“What the hell, man?! You don’t label your food with bio-hazard warnings?!” At Buck’s increasingly insistent staring, he shook his head. “No, Buck, I didn’t eat one.”

“You were supposed to be out for the evening! And I’ve never had to worry about it before, have I?!”

Albert stared at the cookie on the floor, curiosity blooming.

“You said ambrosia could taste like anything, right? What does it taste like to you?”

****

“So, what’s it like being in front of a God?”

Albert and Buck were in a grocery store on a shared pick-up for necessities; they rarely had matching schedules, Albert usually doing the bulk of the shopping during Buck’s 24-hour shifts.

Buck thought back to the only time he’d been in the presence of virtually the whole Greek pantheon, in the hours after the Battle of Manhattan; everyone being tended to by their Godly parents, many still mourning the loss of the friends and family.

He shook his head, instead fixing a smirk on his face. “It feels like you’re at real risk of getting melted to atoms at any given point, if you say anything even remotely wrong.”

Albert’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, before his face morphed into a considering expression. “That’s pretty hot, not going to lie.”

A startled laugh escaped Buck.

“I think there’s something wrong with your head.”

“I’m not the only one thinking it, otherwise you wouldn’t have so many cousins.” Albert grinned, his face turned mischievous. “I don’t suppose you could hook me up with one of those cousins?”

Albert ducked out of the way of an oncoming projectile, laughing.

****

“Is it weird for you that Bobby's Athena is literally called Athena?”

Buck dropped his head onto the kitchen table with a heavy ‘thunk’ and a groan. “Albert, you have no idea.”

****

Buck felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

The 118 were in the fire truck, arriving to the scene of a multi-car pile up on the highway. As the truck pulled into the site, Buck checked the ID number: Albert Han. Glancing at the others on the truck, he decided to risk a quick answer of his phone.

“Sorry, Albert, I’m about to respond to an alarm. I’m going to have to call you back.”

“So you’re not seeing the news reports of the minotaur loose on the highway? That’s just me?”

Buck glanced out the window of the firetruck, looking out to the highway he was currently on. Catching movement further down the lane, he could just about make out the silhouette of a minotaur, as well as, the purple-clad figures of the twelfth legion chasing it down with spears.

“Yeah, no. It’s not just you.” He answered Albert. Across the highway, Buck spotted Logan’s stricken face in the crowd as he watched the legionnaires go up against the monster, Buck cheerfully waved at the man. “Don’t worry, though, the Romans have this one handled.”

Buck hung up the phone and turned the situation in hand.

It was time to focus on the rescue of the civilians; the legionnaires would sort out the minotaur.

****

Buck and Albert sat in the living room, each staring at the twin COVID-19 tests on the table, waiting anxiously for the results. There had been another outbreak at the firehouse, resulting in all the A-Shift being told to test before coming into work that evening.

“So…” Albert tapped his fingers along the edge of the armchair awkwardly. “Is Covid-19 because of some Godly thing? Like is there a Greek god of pestilence or something?”

Buck sighed.

“Not all things are caused by the Gods, you know. Humans create enough trouble without the Gods having to do much of anything these days.” He tilted his head consideringly before continuing. “That tsunami a while back, though, that was Poseidon.”

Chapter Text

Buck thought that Albert knowing about the Greek Gods for a few months would be enough to stem any questions. Turned out, it wasn’t. The time only served to give Albert more time to think of questions for Buck.

It also made Albert too comfortable with the mythological world; comfortable to a point where members of the 118 couldn’t not notice.

****

Albert and Buck sat on the couch, on the fifteenth of February, a decent spread of discount Valentine’s chocolate on the coffee table before them.

Albert picked up the biggest heart-shaped chocolate box, opening it and asking. “What about Aphrodite? What does she look like?”

Buck responded instinctively, zero hesitation and 1000% self-preservation. “The most beautiful person you can ever think of.” He gave Albert a warning looking before continuing. “And don’t ever even think or, worse, say anything remotely different, if you want to remain alive and a fully-functional human being.”

Albert sat dumbfounded at Buck’s serious response, having expected at most a joke about who Buck was currently crushing on; instead, what he got was essentially a stern warning against joking about the looks of the goddess of love.

Albert nodded, more cautiously and seriously than before.

“No saying anything bad about Aphrodite, got it.”

Buck gave Albert a stern look, reiterating. “You’ve never known jealousy like a Goddess spurned, Albert. Everyone always forgets but Aphrodite is a War Goddess too; she’s started more conflicts than you could ever imagine and for far less than insulting her appearance. There’s a reason everyone always says all is fair in Love and War.”

Albert gulped.

****

“Hey, Buck.”

Buck startled as he turned the apartment lights on, only to find Albert wide-awake sat waiting for him in the kitchen.

“Albert, what the –?!”

Buck’s bone-deep tiredness from his 24-hour shift had disappeared in an instant, adrenaline spiking him into alertness.

“Would you say that dryads are in every tree?” Buck willed his heart-rate to slow, his incredulousness rising with each of Albert’s words. “’Cos I’ve peed on a fair few trees when drunk. Do I need to be worried about having offended a tree spirit or something?”

“Albert, it’s 3am. Go to sleep.”

“Buck! Wait, Buck, come back –!”

****

Albert, Chimney and Maddie sat in Buck’s kitchen, one of his Home-cooked meals being presented to them with a flourish. Maddie was heavily pregnant, limiting Buck’s cooking palette somewhat; her cravings and new-found dislike of certain food items, meant Buck had had to double-check his recipes with her before deciding on one, just in case.

“This looks yummy, Buck!” Maddie crowed, happily.

“Yeah, thanks, Buck.” Chimney said, already digging into his own portion.

Buck – in his typical fashion – grabbed his Lighter, sacrificing a small morsel from his plate with a silent prayer. And, as was becoming more typical, Albert gestured to Buck’s Lighter and began his own sacrifice, specifically to Hestia and Buck.

Chimney’s mouth gaped open, fork dropping away from his mouth and a dumbfounded expression making its way onto his face.

What the hell was that? Chimney thought.

For all his jokes to Albert about Buck’s cult, Chimney – now wracking his head – couldn’t recall a moment where he’d actually warned Albert about the dangers of cults; he’d never thought he’d had to.

Now, watching the exchange and the nonchalance of Albert while doing it – indicating the regularity of it – Chimney found himself rapidly shifting his ‘To Do’ list to include that, pronto.

Now, almost as if just realising for the first time, Chimney sat upright with the thought: Albert and Buck live together. They live together. Oh no. Had Buck managed to indoctrinate Albert while the rest of their backs were turned? Intentionally or otherwise. Just what did they talk about when they were home alone. Was it too late? Was he too late?

After they’d finished eating, while Buck and Maddie were engaged in conversation and washing dishes, Chimney took his opportunity to talk to Albert properly. Grabbing the scruff of Albert’s collar, Chimney yanked Albert into the living room, ignoring Albert’s squawk as he did.

“Albert, what do you think you’re doing?” He hissed to his brother.

Albert, for his part, rubbed the back of his neck where the collar had jerked against his skin. His expression settled on half-annoyed, half-confused. “What?!”

“You shouldn’t be encouraging Buck! We’re having a hard enough time to de-condition him from his cult… why are you getting involved in the whole sacrifice stuff?” Chimney waved his hands broadly when he said ‘sacrifice’, as though to encompass every one of Buck’s weirdness in the word.

Albert winced.

Nobody had ever believed him when he’d spoken of monsters and spirits before, why would they believe him now? He’d personally seen on multiple occasions Buck try to explain what the 118 had seen, to no avail; they all seemed convinced one way or the other that they already had an explanation for it all, in the form of a cult.

Buck had explained the concept of the Mist to Albert many a times and not for the first time Albert mentally cursed its extreme power on mortals without clear-sight.

Chimney raised his eyebrows.

Albert shrugged and finally settled on. “What’s the harm in a small sacrifice? It’s not hurting anyone. Besides, it makes him feel more at Home.” Albert smirked lightly to himself at his words; unable to stop himself.

“The harm is that Buck doesn’t know the difference between normal and his Camp. We’re trying to help him understand.”

Albert scowled. “You might think you know best, but Buck is an adult. He can make his own decisions. If he says his camp isn’t a cult, maybe you should trust him and believe that he knows what he’s doing.”

“Albert, tell me you’re not trying to excuse the stuff his camp has done to him.” Chimney said, emphatically. “Have you ever seen his scars?”

Albert hesitated, before shaking his head reluctantly.

He’d never seen Buck’s scars, but he’d heard the 118 discuss them when Buck wasn’t there; he’d heard from Buck, too, of the stab wounds, the burns, the electrical scars, and of Buck’s stories of the Battle of the Labyrinth, Manhattan and the Second Giants’ Wars. Buck didn’t like to talk of them in detail, but Albert had witnessed some of Buck’s night terrors – the ones he tried to stop Albert from hearing – he knew it had been bad.

But how were you supposed to defend all of that to someone without context? Even with context, how could you defend the idea of literal child soldiers?

Instead of responding on that front, Albert stepped closer to Chimney and spoke quietly. “Have you ever thought that Buck just needs someone to be on his side? To make him feel less like an outsider?”

Without allowing Chimney to respond, Albert walked off, leaving Chimney to ruminate on what he’d said.

He wished someone had said something like that to his parents and friends in South Korea; he wished he’d had someone in his corner, no matter how weird the things he’d seen were. He was just happy to be that for Buck.

****

Buck and Albert were on a rare night out, just the two of them; the others were either at home with their kids or – in Ravi’s case – working a double-shift to afford a fourth apartment building.

Buck clinked his shot glass with Albert’s, downing his in one-go.

It was unusual for him to drink anything that wasn’t Pollux’s wine or a beer, so the burning sensation of the shot rushed straight through him. His head automatically feeling both lighter and heavier.

Knowing he had a shift in the afternoon of the next day, Buck sighed. He turned back to the bartender, having to lean in and shout his request for a glass of water.

When he turned back, Albert was gone.

Buck frowned.

He scanned the bar, the dance floor, for Albert, smirking to himself when he spotted the other man dancing with a brunette woman.

“Your drink.” The bartender called out, passing Buck his water.

Buck accepted it, taking a small sip, still watching Albert dancing. He would join, but he didn’t want to get in the way if Albert was having a good time. Just when Buck thought he’d slink over to the seats in the corner and finish off his water, he caught the glint off of the woman Albert was dancing with, a yellowing tint to her eyes.

Buck stiffened.

Instantly his vision sharpened, the adrenaline flushing through his system and sobering him.

Beautiful woman, yellowing eyes, targeting men at bars. Buck was no child of Athena, but even he could guess what she was.

A succubus.

Buck began pushing his way onto the dance floor, ignoring the huffs and looks of disapproval at his insistent pushes through the crowd. Albert caught sight of Buck as he approached, his drunken smile widening.

He waved a hand between Buck and the succubus, “Hey, Buck! This is Veronica. Veronica, this is my roommate, Buck.”

Veronica – though Buck doubted that was the succubus’ actual name – narrowed her eyes. They roved over Buck’s face, lingering on his necklace and the pocket where his Lighter was hidden, evidently sensing its presence.

“Evan Buckley.”

Buck sighed, he hated when monsters would full name him. However, it did make it easier to confirm that she was, in fact, a monster.

“I know what you are.” Buck’s hand reached into his pocket, thumbing the ignition button in case he needed to attack. “Leave my friend alone and we won’t make a scene.”

Albert’s smile dropped, as he finally noticed the odd, growing tension between ‘Veronica’ and Buck.

 “Do you know each other?”

“We’ve not been acquainted before.” Buck offered, before giving Albert a ‘look’. “Her kind are known around Camp.” Buck didn’t need to say any more, as Albert’s face morphed into a look of realisation, with him stepping back from Veronica, warily. His eyes finally sobering enough to take note of the yellow tint to hers, something which his drunken brain had previously attributed to the fluorescent lights.  

Veronica bared her teeth angrily; upset to have her target taken from her so brazenly.

Buck lit his Lighter, letting a small ball of fire appear threateningly in his hands. “I think you should leave, Veronica.”

She looked between them, before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She turned away, huffing and pushing through the crowds.

“Shouldn’t you go after her?” Albert asked, slurring only one or two of the words.

Buck shrugged, shaking his head. “Succubuses… Succubi? Whatever. The ones with yellow eyes don’t tend to kill when they hunt. Just drain your energy. But still, best not to risk it. Personally, I don’t want to start a full firefight in a club like this.”

They stood there in the throng of drunk, sweaty, dancing people, staring at the space where Veronica had just vacated.

“Uh. Thanks man.” Albert offered, awkwardly. “I’m good without knowing how that would’ve turned out.”

****

There was a knock on the apartment door.

Albert frowned.

There never seemed to be many knocks on their door; most of the 118 had a key to let themselves in and typically – barring Eddie – would message before just showing up. Most of Buck’s Camp people would find him at work, in the street or would IM him, as needed. Albert, himself, was these days too busy with his firefighter training and part-time job to invite people over.

Maybe one of the 118 had forgotten their key?

He opened the door.

In the now open doorway stood a child.

They were between ten and thirteen – Albert’s estimation of children’s ages had never been great; he’d not spent much time with other children growing up – and they were dirty, covered in small bruises or cuts and assessing him warily. His eyes were a grey-ish colour, the expression in them shrewd.

“Are you Evan Buckley?”

Albert snapped to attention, immediately re-assessing the child in front of him. Was this a demi-god?

“No –“ The child took a guarded step back. “ –but he’s my roommate. I’ll call him now and let him know you’re here.” The child didn’t move. Albert took a deep breath. Time to take a leap and bring out the big guns. “I know about the Gods, kid. Buck’s a child of Hestia; he’ll get you where you need to go.”

The boy nodded, slowly. He edged his way through the door, never showing his back to Albert and his hand not leaving a make-shift dagger on his hip.

What the hell was Albert supposed to do now?

An emergency call to Buck and fifteen minutes of Albert making awkward conversation with the child; with him eventually succumbing to just offering the kid some of Buck’s home-cooked food, which the boy looked at suspiciously and sniffed before eating. The boy didn’t have the – as Albert understood things – trademark sign of a camper, the beaded necklace, but he clearly knew of the Gods by his not-so-easy acceptance of Albert’s explanation.

Just who was this kid? Albert cringed as the boy’s sleeve shifted to reveal a burn mark on his arm. If I didn’t have all the context for this, I’d be very concerned. Maybe this is why the 118 were so unwilling to give Buck’s camp a chance; how can you justify whatever this kid has already been through?

The door opened, with Buck’s panting face coming round the corner.

The boy perked up, watching Buck and evaluating him.

Buck – who’d been told only the basics of a child turning up at his door, likely of the demi-god flavour – stared back.

 “You’re Evan Buckley, child of Hestia.” The child said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah.” Buck gasped, still catching his breath. “What’s your name kid?”

“My name is Eric.” The child took a deep breath. “My mortal mother said that I am a demi-god. A child of Athena. She said if I needed help that I was to go to the satyrs in the national forest to be taken to Camp. M-my mother died getting me there.”

Eric curled in on himself, clutching his own arms in an attempt at self-comfort. “The satyrs said I should come here… to you. That you would take me to my new home...?”

The child looked back up at Buck, impassive expression fading as his eyes welled with unshed tears.

“W-Will you help me?”

Buck’s own face crumpled.

“Absolutely, kid. I’ll get you Home.”

Eric’s eyes flickered to Albert, imploringly. Albert, despite having known the kid for all of twenty minutes and having no understanding of what that might entail, felt the instinctive urge to comfort the boy. Unthinkingly, he offered. “I’ll help, too.”

****

Buck and Albert made the decision to drive them and Eric across to New York. While Buck was confident in his ability to Hearth-Travel, it was stretching his ability to do so with two adults and a child; also, for a first introduction to Camp, wasn’t the most comfortable way to travel. Four long days driving was hardly anything compared to the discomfort of Hearth-Travel for a newbie.

Buck had needed to make a phone call to Bobby, requesting time off for a family emergency. Instead of being annoyed or frustrated at having to re-work the work schedule, Bobby had been very concerned; Buck rarely requested time-off, to do so last minute, especially when, as far as they knew he wasn’t hurt, was worrying. They knew there wasn’t anything wrong with Maddie either, so there could only be one alternative: Camp. And none of the 118 team were very happy at the idea of Buck spending more time with his ‘Camp Family’.

When asked, Buck had only responded that he was doing a favour for his cousin – if that’s what he could call the literal goddess Athena – and he’d hung up not long after, expertly avoiding answering Bobby’s questions on what that favour was.

He turned his phone off afterwards.

Both to avoid any of the 118 tracking him – which at the very least Eddie was able to do, as they’d downloaded tracking apps on each other’s phones shortly after the tsunami – and to avoid gaining more attention from monsters on their journey. While Buck had gotten used to protecting himself and warding against phone signals being tracked, it was harder to do when harbouring a young demi-god and while travelling away from anywhere he considered Home.

****

Before leaving, he’d, also, thought to ‘IM’ camp; with Chiron answering almost immediately.

“Hey, Chiron.” Buck waved at the centaur.

Albert and Eric’s gaping faces were at the edge of the rainbow message, staring at the centaur disbelievingly.

“Buck.” Chiron greeted. He glanced at Buck’s companions, before staring back at Buck. His expression indicating he’d like an explanation.

“I’m coming to camp. Eric, here, was in need of a lift Home.” He gestured at Eric. He coughed, awkwardly. “This is my friend Albert. Say hi Albert.”

“Hi!” Albert waved.

“He’s clear-sighted… he’s coming too.”

Chiron sighed in a world-weary manner. “You can’t just invite whoever you like to –“

“I’m inviting him to my Home.” Buck cut in, uncharacteristically firm.

Chiron only nodded resigned, his entire body exuding the energy of ‘Why do I bother?’

Buck smiled, broadly. “We’ll see you in four days!”

****

The drive was fun.

Within the first day or two, he, Albert and Eric had found a rhythm; both Albert and Eric peppered him with questions about the world of demi-gods and Greek myths, and Buck drove.

“What about Hercules?” Albert asked, munching on his gas-station bought crisps.

Buck glanced at him through the mirrors, “He’s real. Though he was actually called Heracles.” He ignored Eric’s muttered, ‘Even I knew that, dummy’ and Albert’s more childish face-pulling response. “And, just so you know, Disney really butchered that story.”

“What about Medusa?” Eric asked, tilting his head to also meet Buck’s eyes through the mirrors.

“Also, real. Though I wouldn’t go mentioning her either. One of my friends at camp chopped her head off again a decade or two back and the Gods are still a bit salty about it. Though that might be more about the fact he shipped the head to them Mount Olympus than anything.” Buck mused.

“You said yesterday that Mount Olympus was moved to the US though!” Eric retorted.

“Yeah? And?”

“You said it was about follow civilised society across the globe…” Eric continued, eyebrows furrowing. At Buck’s hummed response, he asked accusingly. “And we’re supposed to believe that the US is the most civilised nation in the world right now?!”

Buck shrugged with a smirk, “Well, they are the Greek Gods… they like a little chaos at the best of times.”

****

They got three days of driving in before they were attacked for the first time.

Honestly, Buck expected it a lot sooner. The fact that they hadn’t encountered a monster in the first three days was practically a miracle.

They’d stopped on route to fuel up, Buck pumping the gas, Albert buying the next round of snacks and Eric tucked up half-asleep in the car, drool making its way down his cheek.

Buck felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand.

Having long since given in to trusting his instincts, Buck looked around, scanning the area for any sign of danger.

Across the petrol station, a woman stood watching Buck back.

On first look, she appeared pretty; a welcoming smile on her face and something enticing in her eyes. And then, Buck blinked. Within a blink, the woman had transformed in his vision, as though a Mist around her had cleared – which Buck knew it had – and beneath the alluring visage lay a woman of flaming hair, glowing red eyes, a prosthetic celestial bronze leg balanced by a donkey leg and wings.

Oh, fuck.

An Empousai.

Buck hadn’t ever seen one in person before, but he’d heard the stories.

The Seven had encountered them multiple times during the Second Giants War – in Tartarus and the House of Hades respectively – and they’d been dangerous.

Buck didn’t outwardly react; his war-honed reflexes causing his brain to run a mile a minute. He ran through all the known abilities of an Empousai – or at least, the ones he knew of – he could recall only a few: Mist manipulation, charmspeak and flame teleportation.

He clicked his car keys, a subtle attempt at locking the car doors.

He could see out of the corner of his eyes Eric’s body stiffen in confusion at the locking sound, his head poking up out of his blanket. He could only hope Eric understood the value of silence.

Buck grasped his Lighter from his pocket, lighting it and reaching for the flame, feeling it travel its way up his palm. He couldn’t confirm if the flame would be an effective defence; if the Empousai could flame teleport, there was every likelihood it could be immune to fire damage. On the other hand, Buck had interacted with many fire users back at camp, from various origins – one a child of Hephestus and another a child of Apollo – and they’d had a range of effectiveness on each other.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

If his Hearth-Fire didn’t work, then good, old fashioned celestial bronze would have to do.

Buck caught the Empousai’s eyes and knew she’d clocked his awareness.

Not wasting another moment, Buck threw a column of fire at her, making a fleeting attempt to avoid the pump stations themselves and any tanks; blowing up an entire petrol station wasn’t on his ‘To Do’ list today.

The Empousai disappeared in a shower of flames, teleporting.

Buck only had a second to register the presence behind him, before she grabbed his wrist, immobilising him. Like most monsters, she was far stronger than she looked. The Empousai’s fangs locked onto his neck, causing the sharp sting of pain and blood to drip down his throat. He felt the venom from her teeth – venom he knew from his studies to cause paralysation – and attempted to reach for his celestial bronze dagger, before the venom could set in.

As his hands finally closed around it and ready to defend himself, the Empousai’s teeth unlocked, with a gasp from the Empousai.

Spinning clumsily, Buck could make out Eric’s dagger sticking out of the Empousai’s back.

“Tanks’ –“ Buck slurred.

Shaking his head, he remembered a talk he’d once had with Will about the different potentials for his Hearth-Fire for healing. Will had once asked whether he’d ever considered using the fire internally to burn away poisons. Buck, at that point, had never been poisoned to try it and while the Demeter cabin had offered to create a poison for him to test the hypothesis, he’d never had the chance to try.

Here's to hoping. Buck thought.

He focused on the small ball of flame from his Lighter, visualising the energy flowing through him. Through his veins, his organs, his entire being. He imagined it burning away anything foreign and leaving only the warmth of a crackling fire on a winter’s day.

Beside him, Eric gasped.

Where Buck usually emanated a warm presence, the warmth turned to heat and then to a hot glow; his skin shining as a fire blazed in him.

Once it had appeared to burn through him, head to toe, Buck re-opened his eyes. The visibly weakened stated disappearing with the glow of Buck’s skin.

Thank the Gods that worked. Buck didn’t exactly have a back up plan if it hadn’t.

“Good job, kid.” Buck said, a small smile of approval on his lips.

Eric beamed.

Albert exited the petrol station, arms full of snacks and drinks to tide them over for another few hours, only for him to see several bushes and a bin on fire, the corpse of a monster with a donkey leg and wings smouldering to the right of the car and Buck’s bloodied neck.

“What the fu –?!”

****

Albert took over driving for the rest of the day and into the next.

Buck had waved off any treatment claiming, ‘he was fine’, to Eric’s derision. He’d been adamant that he’s ‘burned away’ any venom and anything else was a scratch. Which had Albert questioning why there had been any venom involved at all.

Both Albert and Buck had remained hypervigilant on any following pit-stops; allowing for Buck to notice the increased presence of satyrs and dryads, as well as the odd nature spirit in their vicinity as they continued their journey towards Camp.

They’d spotted at least another two monsters on route but successfully avoided them. No point in risking an all-out fight when they were so close to Camp.

“It’s only another couple of hours.” Buck commented from the passenger seat. His words directed to both Albert and Eric.

“Thanks, Buck.” Albert intoned, gratefully.

****

The density of trees was starting to thicken around them, the road starting to become unsealed and gravelly; a familiar indication that they were nearing the Camp boundaries.

“Why do you go by Buck?”

Buck turned in his seat to peer round at Eric.

Buck shrugged, “I go by Buck from a few reasons... both because it’s part of my last name and because there are people, Gods and monsters that could do lots of things with the power of your true name.”

Eric nodded, consideringly, at the advice. “That makes sense.” He determined, before offering quietly. “Eric isn’t actually my full name either… My mother – the mortal one, that is – named me Erichthonius. Apparently, he was an adopted son of Athena in the myths. My mortal mom wanted me to feel close to my other mother, even when she wasn’t there.”

Buck smiled, compassionately. The decision from Eric to share his full-name – despite Buck’s warning against sharing it, in case people take advantage of it – wasn’t lost on him. In a few short days, he and Albert had managed to gain the child’s trust and he, in turn, had wormed his way into their hearts without even trying.

****

The sun was starting to set when they finally rolled into camp.

The dust cascading from the back of the car as they drove on the gravel road catching a few stray campers’ attentions. Several kids stood watching the car approach, a scant line of orange shirts lining the driveway.

As they pulled up outside the Big House, Chiron trotted out to join them.

“Chiron!”

“Buck. Welcome Home.”

Buck felt the words in his chest; the ache of being so far away from Home easing once more.

Buck glanced behind him to where Eric was standing, half behind Albert. After four days of an eager, boisterous kid – his insatiable thirst for knowledge entertaining them for nearly four days of driving by itself – the shyness Eric was exuding surprised Buck.

“Eric, this is Chiron. He’s activities director here at Camp Half-Blood.” Buck pulled the boy closer, so he was now in front of the centaur. “Chiron, this is Eric. Son of Athena.”

Chiron nodded.

“Welcome, Eric. Come in, we have the orientation film ready for you.” He smiled at the boy’s hesitation. “Buck will see you at dinner. We’ll just help you get settled into Cabin Six first.”

“Uh.” Albert interrupted before Eric left his presence having almost been forgotten in the immediate arrival to camp.

“Oh yeah.” Buck smiled awkwardly at Chiron. “This is Albert. I mentioned before that he’s clear-sighted. He helped me get Eric here… he was hoping to stay for dinner?”

 “Yes, welcome Albert. You are invited to join us for dinner too. There will be a fair few people eager to meet you in the meantime, I’m sure.” Chiron cleared his throat. “The Oracle was asking for your presence when you arrived.”

As Eric and Chiron retreated, Albert whispered to Buck. “Oracle?”

“Right. So the oracle of Delphi is –“

****

Rachel Elizabeth Dare was waiting at the Hestia Cabin, having already made herself at Home there.

Buck smiled.

He had always liked Rachel; she, too, had been born mortal only to be brought into the world of the Greek Gods and Goddesses by happenstance and fate. Something they had in common, although it had worked out in very different ways for them both.

“Hey Rachel.” Buck welcomed. “I’m sure you may know, but this is Albert.”

“Hello, Albert.”

Albert waved, visibly in awe.

He whispered to Buck, as subtly as he could. “Do you think she could tell me the next lotto numbers?”

Buck snorted.

Rachel smiled, amusedly.

Interrupting the exchange, her voice clear and steady, Rachel spoke. “I know you’re here for answers, Albert Han.” Albert glanced warily to Buck, surprised at the almost ageless timbre to her voice. “I can give you some but not all. You have wondered all your life at the things you see, wondered at your clear-sightedness. The reason you can see the things you can is this: you are a descendant of a different pantheon. Long enough that you have no strong kinship nor power from your ancestor but close enough to have the awareness you do.”

Albert’s mouth hung open, naked surprise on his face.

“If you would like to find out more about your heritage –“ Rachel continued, “ – Chiron has contacts in South Korea, they can give you the answers you seek.”

“Wait… so my mom or my dad’s ancestor was a God?” Albert stuttered.

“A God or a mythical being of some description.” Rachel answered.

“Probably your Mom though –” Buck offered, “ – given that Chimney’s never said anything about how my skin glows when I make a sacrifice.”

Albert tilted his head, hesitating a moment before he asked the question he desperately wanted to know. “Does… does your family know anything? I mean, you aren’t just ‘clear-sighted’, you’re an oracle.”

If Albert could talk to anyone about all this, to actually be able to explain the things he sees and have them believe him, it would be a dream. To have Buck in his life – someone who finally had an explanation for all of it – had settled something in him. But he still wished he could tell his brother, his parents, his friends.

Rachel gave him a shrewd look.

“I could shout from the rooftops that I’m the oracle and nobody would believe me. I’d say it’s the power of the Mist, but it’s also mortals’ stubbornness and obstinance. Not least my father.” Albert felt like he was missing some key context for that comment, but it didn’t quite seem his place to ask anything personal of the literal Oracle of Delphi.

She continued in the same vein. “In your case, Albert Han, who knows. There have been others who’ve introduced regular mortals to our world, albeit only peripherally. Few mortals can stay in this world permanently, not without them getting involved in something other-worldly.” She shrugged. “One of the campers had his mortal step-dad know and the step-dad ended up helping to fight off an army in the Battle of Manhattan. And he can’t even see through the Mist. Another camper had her dad help rescue them in a helicopter mid-battle.”

“It can sometimes burn mortals to keep them near.” Buck whispered, almost to himself. He looked up at them, a small expression of surprise on his face, almost as though he hadn’t intended to say what he had.

Albert thought on the constant cult rumours throughout the 118 and couldn’t help but think. Getting the 118 on-side, through the Mist, without involving them in anything dangerous? It would be nearly impossible.  

****

“Buck!”

The shout was the only warning Buck got, before the force of someone slamming into him and pulling him into a firm hug. The aroma of grapes and sweet dessert wine filled his nostrils.

“Pollux.”

Buck returned the hug.

It had been too long since he’d seen Pollux – outside of an ‘IM’ – with Pollux living in upstate New York on a vineyard and Buck having made a Home in California. They saw each other at least a few times a year; once on Pollux and Castor’s birthday – typically at Camp so they could pour out a glass for Castor where his ashes were scattered – once on the anniversary of the Battle of the Labyrinth, once on Buck’s birthday and then anytime they crossed paths during favours and holidays.

It wasn’t often enough, in Buck’s opinion.

“What happened to your neck?” Pollux asked, when Buck finally pulled away.

“Oh.” Buck clasped a hand around the bite mark, both surprised and unsurprised it was still there. Usually, small bruises and cuts healed quickly, with their demi-god blood; but he shouldn’t be as surprised it healed slower, knowing the fangs and the venom. “An encounter we had with an Empousai on the road.”

Pollux winced, sympathetically.

“Anyway, Pollux, meet my friend Albert!” Buck ushered Albert forward, from where he’d been watching the interaction with interest. “He’s Chimney’s little brother, you know Chimney from my –“

“From your firehouse, yes, I know. I do listen when you ‘IM’ me, you know.” Pollux interrupted jokingly. He turned to Albert and smiled, “It’s nice to meet you. I haven’t been introduced to any of Buck’s friends or family back in California in over four years! You’d think he was hiding something.”

Albert snorted.

“Probably something to do with the fact that his firehouse think he was in a cult.” Albert shrugged.

Pollux’s face lit up. “They what?!” He asked, delighted.

“Hey!” Buck shifted in front of Albert, giving him a look. “Not everyone is supposed to be told that.”

Pollux ignored Buck, instead reaching around Buck to link his arm with Albert. “Tell me everything.”

****

The three of them sat in the Hestia Cabin, several glasses of wine done each and very much worse for wear.

Albert continuing his trend of asking questions, queried. “So, your dad is the God of Wine and Madness. Dionys–“

“Best not to actually name the Gods.” Buck hurried to interrupt. “You never really know when they’re listening. Mr. D actually lives at Camp. He’s the Camp Director.”

“Buck’s Mom also lives here,” Pollux countered. “If you had down to the Hearth at dinner and offer her a sacrifice, you may even see her.”

“Can I?” Albert asked Buck eagerly, with Buck agreeing with equal enthusiasm.

“Of course! She’s great! So much better than my mortal parents ever were.” Buck huffed in memory, he went to lean his chin on his hand thoughtfully, but his wine-laden limbs missed by a margin.

Albert’s eyebrows furrowed. “Did your parents know… about everything?

Buck nodded. “Yeah, they know about the Gods. They prayed to my mom for a blessing and all. Not that they actually got what they wanted from it. But the war and battle side of things? Not so much. It’s not like I’ve been in touch with them for them to know, you know?”

“And what, so they just never told Maddie?”

“I think they wanted to pretend like I never existed. And then when Maddie found out and thought this was all some conversion camp –,” Pollux snorted into his wine glass at the reminder, “ –she cut contact, so they never got the chance to properly explain.”

Albert hummed, thoughtfully. “And you guys have known each other a long time then?”

Pollux nodded. “We – I met Buck when he was a tiny thing, still being called Evan. He was nine or so.” He reached over to pinch Buck’s cheeks mockingly.

“And you’ve fought literal wars together?” Albert marvelled over the fact; the two people in front of him had fought alongside Gods and monsters to prevent the end of the world. Meanwhile, he’d been upset over the fact that people couldn’t see what he could. It really put things into perspective. Not that it was always healthy to compare life experiences, but still.

“Yeah.” Buck answered, more seriously than the hour or two before. “We fought in wars. They used to have us up at all hours on patrols and for battles. It made keeping up with the firefighter training pretty easy.”

If only Albert’s firefighter training was so easy.

A gong sounded out.

Albert glanced at the other two, hoping they’d fill in what the gong meant. Obligingly, Buck answered. “Dinner.”

The three of them stumbled up, each clutching the others for stability. It took longer than usual for all three of them to be fully, upright.

“Let’s go find our young charge.” Buck said, moving towards the door with purpose. He tripped partially over the threshold, nearly faceplanting outside.

Buck, the demi-god and hero. Albert thought, watching his friend pull himself up on the doorframe.

****

Dinner was an experience.

There were twelve main tables, full of over a hundred demi-gods – all clad in the orange shirts of Camp Half-Blood. Interspersed between the campers were a mixture of satyrs, naiads, dryads, water-nymphs and beyond, Albert tried very hard not to stare. He was less than successful.

The moment Buck pointed out Mr. D – the literal God of wine, Dionysus – Albert nearly lost it; he was in the actual presence of a God. Pollux watched Albert’s stuttering and nervousness at his father’s presence with some amusement. Dionysus, himself, received the additional attention with a modicum of pleased bemusement.   

Buck and Pollux explained the etiquette of dinner – the way you asked for whatever drinks you wanted and the obligatory sacrifice before eating – all of which Albert soaked up. Thankfully, by the time they were explaining, Eric had caught up to them and been able to get Chiron to agree to a single night where he’d join Buck, Albert and Pollux before dinner before they left the next day; apparently, he’d argued his case well.

Albert giggled, as his cup filled with coca cola.

Eric leaned forwards, incredulously. “Are you guys drunk?!”

“No.” Buck denied.

The effect was ruined somewhat by a stray hiccup.

Eric struggled to hold back a laugh.

As the sacrifices began, Eric joined many other campers in ‘ooh’-ing and ‘aaah’-ing at the strong glow of Buck’s skin. While his skin glowed whenever he made a sacrifice of his own, the strength of the glow was influenced by the strength of the sacrifice. With child after child making a sacrifice one after the other, the glow of Buck’s skin reached new heights, and many of the campers present were too young to have been present during Buck’s previous time at camp.

The campers were mesmerised.

“Yes, as many of you may have noticed. We have a new camper here today, his name is Edric –“ Eric made a confused sound at the butchering of his name, while Buck only laughed at the bit. Mr. D had been finding new and wonderful ways to butcher campers names for nigh on two decades. Why stop the habit of a lifetime? "– and of course, the previous camper, Berk.”

 Buck amusedly rolled his eyes.

Mr. D knew his name; he’d called Buck by the right name on at least two occasions, once at Castor’s funeral and again after Buck had finished the building of Hestia’s cabin, directly after the first war, his ‘Well done, Buckley, you’ve done her proud’ had stayed with Buck for years after.

As dinner continued, Buck found himself glowing in intermittent intervals as campers started to make a game of throwing sacrifices into the Hearth and watching him light up in varying intensities; until Chiron put an end to it and hurried them all along.

****

As the night closed, Buck dragged Albert and Eric to the Hearth, Pollux trailing behind them serenely.

On approach, Albert could make out a shape in the flames; a woman, perhaps in her twenties, wreathed in flames and silhouette casting shadows behind her. Her face was kind, her eyes warm. Albert could smell the scent of his mother’s cooking and the smell of her perfume, reminding him of Home.

It hit him then.

This was Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth – another actual Greek God – and Buck’s mother, for all intents and purposes.

Albert bowed to the flames.

Eric glanced between Albert and the flames, before rushing to follow suit.

Buck and Pollux only shared a pleased smile.

“Albert, Eric, this is my mom, Hestia, Goddess of Home and Hearth.” Buck gestured to them.

Glancing back at his mother, he moved forwards and wrapped her in a warm embrace. The flames wrapped around him too – to Eric’s shock – though not burning, the heat of it giving Buck strength; it had been too long since he’d visited his Home and Hearth.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both.” Hestia smiled.

“I’m honoured.” Albert stuttered out, unsure of exactly what he should and shouldn’t say to a literal Goddess.

Hestia gave him another indulgent smile. “You are one of my own’s family. The honour is mine, also.” She glanced over at Eric, who also stood there in awe. “May you be safe here at the Hearth of your new Home.”

The boy, somehow looking the youngest he had in the entire four days Buck had known him, had tears welling in his eyes. “I thank you, Lady Hestia.”

Hestia’s expression morphed into one of delight.

She looked again over at Buck. “I’m glad you have made the time to visit, my child. It has been far too long.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll try to visit more, especially if it means I can check on Eric, too. It’s a good reason to practice my Heath-travelling too.”

“Maybe I will stop by your Hearth when I find the time also.” She smiled fondly before frowning lightly, the flames dimming in line with her dip in emotions. “Although, it seemed like some of your Family did not like me much.”

Albert snorted.

“Well, yeah.” Albert responded, thoughtlessly. “They think you bought Buck as a baby, or something.”

“What?!” Hestia and Buck’s question overlapped each other, both equally as confused while Hestia’s question was tinged with a mix of hurt and horror.

“Why would they think something like that?” Hestia turned to Buck expectantly.

“I didn’t tell them that.” Buck insisted. “Albert, tell her!”

“Uhhh.” Albert, evidently now regretting his glib remark. “It’s not really anything you said. Well, it’s a little bit some of the things you’ve said, but it’s more about the assumptions from what everyone’s seeing through the Mist.”

Albert shrugged before nodding earnestly, “I’m sure, they’ll realise the error with it all soon, right?”

****

Saying goodbye to Eric was hard; despite only knowing him for five days, it had been five intense days, one that felt like a lifetime to Albert. It soothed him, though, seeing Eric safely among his siblings, settling in. The boy had been welcomed into the fold, with warm welcomes and bright smiles.

“What now?” He asked Buck, aware that they may be facing another four-day journey back. “Drive back?”

Buck snorted, facing the Hearth. “I think I have a quicker way home than that.”

Twenty minutes later, Albert could confidently say, he never wanted to Hearth-Travel again; he wouldn’t recommend.

****

Turning on his phone to a slew of messages from the 118, from Maddie, from Athena, all asking if he was okay, if he needed help with anything, or even just where he was, made Buck’s stomach churn with guilt.

The regret hit him; he’d gone radio silent for up to five-days, with no contact whatsoever, no wonder the team were worried about him. Ever since being introduced to the wonders of his phone, by Chimney, Buck rarely went a whole day without message a new fun-fact, photo of his cooking or sending memes to Eddie and Christopher.

Buck pulled up the camera, “Hey Albert, you want to take a selfie with me? For proof of life?”

Albert grinned.

Taking a shot and sending it to the 118 Group Chat – the one with Karen, Maddie, Athena and Albert in it – with the caption: ‘Favour all wrapped up and back from Camp, don’t worry I brought Albert with me!’ Buck nodded at the message, congratulating himself on a job well done; they couldn’t think anything was wrong now, he even had a trusted witness and everything.

A buzzing noise started.

“Uh, Buck –“ Albert turned his phone around, showing the dozens of messages now popping up on his screen from the group chat.

Chimney: ‘You took my brother on a favour with you?!’

Maddie: ‘What happened to your neck?

Maddie: Is that a bite mark?!!!

Maddie: What are those bruises on your face?’

Hen: ‘Are you okay?’

Bobby: ‘Do you need anything?’

Eddie: ‘I would have helped if you needed.’

Buck cringed; he hadn’t expected the volume of responses from his own short message. His own phone started buzzing with additional private messages.

Eddie: ‘Stay where you are, I’m coming over.’

Albert’s own phone received a direct message from Athena, reading: ‘Do you have a full list of names of people from the Camp?’ and ‘Tell me everything.’

Chapter Text

Eddie stood outside Buck’s apartment door and took a deep, steadying breath.

 Buck had been radio-silent for five days.

Five days.

And in that time, Eddie had been left to worry about all the horrifying possibilities that came with Buck visiting his Camp. The fact that he’d seemingly brought Albert along with him – judging by Chimney’s brother’s simultaneous absence and Albert’s presence in the photo – didn’t bring him much comfort. Buck’s roommate had become increasingly comfortable and entrenched in the cult-like facets of Buck’s life; from Chimney’s reports, he’d taken to making sacrifices at dinner, he was learning ancient Greek, hell, he’d even defended the cult to Chimney the last time they’d spoken.

Eddie’s worry had been proven somewhat correct; while Buck’s photo – sent to the group chat – did ease Eddie’s worry that Buck would disappear and never be seen again, it also heightened his other concerns for Buck’s wellbeing.

Namely, the bruises marring Buck’s face and the reddened bite mark on his neck. A bite mark. Gone were the days where Buck had one-night stands or emotionless flings, granted, Eddie hadn’t been there to see the notorious Buck 1.0, but he’d heard the stories. The Buck 3.0 – or was it 4.0 at this point? – was one for connection and relationships.

So, to see a bite mark on Buck’s neck was concerning.

Maybe it wasn’t what Eddie was thinking; maybe there was another explanation for a bite mark on one’s neck.

Whatever had happened while Buck was away, whatever favour he’d thought he’d had to do for his mother, brother, cousin – whoever – Eddie would be there to help.

Releasing the breath he’d been holding, Eddie unlocked Buck’s door.

Buck sat nervously at the kitchen table, hands fiddling with his phone, clearly waiting for Eddie’s arrival.

“Eddie.” Buck breathed, a tenuous smile adorning his face. “You’re here.”

“I said I was coming, didn’t I?” Eddie glanced around the apartment, noting Albert’s presence in the living room.

He gave the other man a cursory, assessing look; making sure Albert didn’t have any noticeable injuries, unlike Buck. He didn’t want to be the one to call Chimney after this and tell him that Buck’s cult had managed to hurt Albert too. Thankfully, the quick assessment indicated Albert had no visible injuries.

Turning back to Buck, he pulled the first aid bag off his shoulder and set it up on Buck’s table, giving Buck an unimpressed glare when the other man tried to protest. Eddie took no notice of Buck’s assurances, instead focussing on unloading the first aid bag.

There were a few moments of awkward silence as he set himself up, reaching for the disinfectant and bruise salve cream.

Ignoring Albert’s presence, Eddie asked Buck lowly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Really.”

Eddie felt the sadness in him at Buck’s insistence; the other man’s bruises told a different story.

“What happened to your neck?” Eddie controlled his voice, quelling the strong urge to just demand Buck tell him who did this to him. To ask him who thought they had the right to hurt Buck like this. To know if the bite mark was consensual or not.

“Aha.” Buck rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly – avoiding the bite mark as he did – before remembering he was supposed to stay still for Eddie’s ministrations. “Funny story, I got jumped by some woman at a gas station. Before we got to camp, she just saw me and –“ Buck motioned, gesturing as if to pounce and bite.

“You’re saying this –“ Eddie gestured to Buck’s neck and face, disbelievingly. “ – wasn’t part of your favour? The thing you needed to do for your camp family?”

“Um. No?” Buck’s voice lilted in confusion as he spoke. “It was a separate thing entirely.”

Eddie eyed Buck, his earnest expression.

Eddie wanted to believe him, he really did, but Buck had the propensity to only think good of his camp, no matter the scars and evidence pointing to a certain level of negligence at best, and outright abuse at worst.

Buck’s sleeve jostled, revealing a deep purple bruise encompassing his wrist. It looked like someone very strong had either held on very tightly, or that someone had struggled hard to get out of the grip.

Eddie closed his eyes momentarily, before opening them again to stare solemnly at Buck. “You know you don’t have to lie to protect anyone, right? If someone hurt you, or did this to you, you can tell me.” He wanted Buck to know, more than anything that Buck could talk to him, ask for help, anything. “I can help.”

Eddie had heard this conversation many times in different forms – he’d had it with several people on calls – but also, he’d heard Buck give a version of this conversation with Maddie after she’d fled her abusive husband. How could Buck not see the parallels? Eddie could only guess it’s harder to acknowledge when you’re the one living it.

“I am telling you.” Buck insisted, growing frustration showing itself in both his face and voice.

Sighing, Eddie only nodded. “Okay.”

Albert’s voice from the living room flitted through. “He’s telling the truth. I swear.” Albert peeked out from behind the stairs. “There was this lady at the gas station who just attacked out of nowhere! I came out and the whole place was on fire!”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and concern.

Albert had no real reason to lie; despite his growing support of Buck’s cult, he did care about Buck and wouldn’t actively be supporting a situation where Buck was being put into danger or hurt intentionally.

“Okay.” Eddie repeated slowly, more to himself this time.

He would believe them.

Or, he would at least try.

“What were you doing then?” Eddie glanced between both Albert and Buck, hoping for an actual answer this time. “What was the reason you went no-contact for five days? Surely, you could have messaged to let me – us – know you were safe.” He held Buck’s gaze, even as Buck attempted to duck his head to break the eye-contact. “I was worried about you, Buck. Chris was worried.”

It might have been a low blow to use his son like that, but Eddie wasn’t above low-level emotional manipulation, if it meant he actually would know if Buck was safe or not. He never said he was the perfect father.

Buck shrugged. “Camp doesn’t have phone signal. To keep the kids safe.” Even Buck winced as he said that. It was true but he also knew how it sounded. “The favour was just to take a cousin on mine to camp. One of his moms died recently and he wanted to be taken to his other mom at camp.”

Eddie nodded slowly.

He turned to Albert, with raised eyebrows, as though expecting him to corroborate the story.

Instead, Albert took that as his turn to give an explanation. “Yeah! We went on a five-day road trip to camp! I met a load of Buck’s campmates and friends! His mom, Hestia, was there – she’s lovely by the way – and his friend Pollux got us some drinks and Mr D. showed us the – “

Safe to say, Eddie got a fair few additional names for Athena’s list.

****

Armed with more names from Eddie – courtesy of an unknowing Albert – and a general location of the camp – somewhere in upstate New York – Athena and Detective Lou Ransone, finally were ready to present the case to the higher ups.

Athena had been pulling together everything she knew of the case; the several high-profile names of both children and parents from camp, the ‘Wanted’ posters for one Percy Jackson, the list of girl’s names and ages from the Girl Scouts bus, the countless names Buck had mentioned through the years of fellow campers who’d died young and the name of the linking camp: Camp Jupiter.

It may not be the most solid case she’d presented, but it wasn’t the weakest either; there was an awful lot more than circumstantial evidence to warrant more detectives assigned to the job. So far, it had just been Athena – and occasionally Lou – on their off-duty time, but if the higher ups would allow, she wanted to put actual police time onto the investigation.

She’d organised for both the Assistant Chief Thomas Winston and the Chief of Police Sylvan Parker to attend her meeting.

“Alright, thank you both for coming today.” She said, greeting them both with a perfunctory smile, before diving straight it.

“Lou, if you would –“

The other detective wheeled out the corkboard Athena had brought from home, specifically for this discussion, containing all the evidence she and the 118 had collected across four years.

Turning back to the Assistant Chief and Chief, Athena felt a rush of hope imbued within her.

“So, we’ve gathered evidence of a potential trafficking ring, run out of a camp in upstate New York –“

****

Chief Parker nodded to Detective Ransone and Sergeant Grant as they left, promising to look into the matter personally and allocate whatever funds and resources they thought appropriate.

The door shut behind her.

A moment of silence fell between Chief Sylvan Parker and Assistant Chief Thomas Winston, before Thomas broke it.

“I told you it would be you Greeks who’d draw attention first.”

Sylvan only sighed in response, pinching his nose and praying for patience.

He could only be grateful that his Camp Half-Blood necklace, the one he wore everyday under his dress shirt, wasn’t visible throughout that conversation.

Sylvan and Thomas had known each other for nigh on forty years, having met in the late-eighties, fresh off the beat and just made detective. Sylvan had known from the moment they met that the other man was like him; the wariness, the scars, the way his eyes followed monsters beyond the Mist just like Sylvan did.

He’d never seen Thomas at Camp Half-Blood, but he knew the other was like him.

It had taken a year to finally get the answer and it had blown his mind; a whole other camp, a Roman camp, ones that follow the other facets of the Greek Gods or different Gods entirely.

They were both children of minor gods – Sylvan, the son of the Goddess Themis, the personification of Justice and law, and Thomas, the son of Janus, the Roman God of Beginnings, Transitions and Change – and similarly without community support or networks.

They’d met in an age before the Greek Gods had agreed to recognise their children’s heritages ubiquitously or, if acknowledged, provided recognition for the children of minor Gods.

Sylvan had spent his entire childhood at Camp Half Blood in the Hermes cabin, and unlike many there, he had been fortunate enough to be recognised by his Godly parent, but still cast aside or not considered ‘important’ enough to recognise. Thomas, himself, had been a part of the legionnaires, only one cog in a huge machine at Camp Jupiter.  Both of them were left adrift after they’d aged out, with nothing except their wits to keep themselves alive.

So, they’d joined forces, deciding they’d live longer if they helped one another.

They created a small network, before the days of the internet and mobile phones, they’d created safe passageways, safehouses for travelling demi-gods and offered help for those on Quests. It wasn’t exclusive; it was for any demi-god for various pantheons and mythical beings – they had a few naiads and dryads join over the years, too – and consisted of demi-gods who’d made it to adulthood, rare as it was, but usually children of the minor Gods with the occasional Athena or Hermes kid, as the major Gods children tended to gain unwanted attention or die much younger.

It wasn’t like the Roman legacy letters; it transcended pantheons and was more informal than theirs. But it allowed some of those who’d been previously excluded or marginalised by the Greek Gods to be accepted, in a way they hadn’t been until Percy Jackson. Until the Seven Heroes. Until the two Giants’ Wars.

Until kids like Buck – younger versions of Thomas and Sylvan, who’d had the misfortune of still being children at a time of war – sacrificed themselves, not just for the good of the world and the general public, but for people like him and their children to have an accepted place in the world.

Buck’s generation of demi-gods had fought for the rights of Sylvan and his cohort – many of whom had never known who their Godly parents were – to finally be recognised, at the ripe old ages of sixty. They’d fought for the right for them to build a temple in their parents’ honours at Camp Half-Blood. They’d fought for demi-gods like them to have a place, a Home.

Which is the only reason Sylvan wasn’t going to kill this kid.

How in Tartarus did Evan Buckley let it get this far?!

****

“I think you should court-martial him.” Thomas offered, an hour later, while they were still processing all the evidence Sergeant Grant – he’d never been able to call her Athena, even in his head – had presented them with.

And there was a lot of evidence.

“We don’t really do court-martialling on the Greek side.” Sylvan rebutted, unhappily. If they did, Buck would definitely be getting court-martialled.

“Well, you’ve got to talk to him.” Thomas gestured at the ‘Wanted’ posters of Percy Jackson and the list of the Hunters of Artemis’ names and ages. “This can’t go on.”

Sylvan huffed. “No. It can’t.”

He let his eyes lift to the sky, mentally beseeching his Godly mother; if he didn’t already know the context for all this evidence, he knew he’d be gunning for justice for Buck. With the context, however, he could only marvel at how much more difficult it was for this generation of demi-gods to blend into society, with the introduction of the internet, phones and technology – all of which made it easier for monsters to track powerful demi-gods – easy assimilation into mortal culture was made far more difficult.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

****

Buck felt the prickling sensation of Chimney watching him.

The man had been doing nothing but watch him since his return to work. Whether he’d been asked by Maddie to keep an eye out, or if he was hoping to get confirmation that Buck hadn’t indoctrinated Albert into his cult, Buck didn’t know.

Upon his return, Hen had only given him a warm hug, offered to be there if Buck wanted to talk and left it there. Eddie, having already seen Buck at his apartment, stuck close to Buck as though continually affirming Buck was ‘okay’.

Bobby, unlike the others, was doing his best to try be as normal as possible. He’d requested Buck’s help cooking and preparing the food, and if that had Buck in his eye-line at all times, that was his business.

Buck sighed. “Cap, I’m fine.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow.

Buck gave him an unimpressed look. “You’ve been staring at my neck again. I told you I got jumped by –“

“ – Some woman at the gas station.” Bobby finished for Buck, his tone belying his disbelief of Buck’s explanation.

It had been the more recent injuries, the bruises and bite mark, that had finally motivated Athena to take the case to the higher ups; injuries and scars in years past were one thing, evidence of people continuing to hurt Buck under their very noses was another.

Athena had told Bobby the night before about the discussion with the Assistant Chief and Chief of police, and hopefully it would be a step in the right direction. Hopefully, it would keep Buck safe.

“Cap!” One of the B-shift firefighters, Delaney, who was leaving from their shift, called up to the kitchen. “We’ve got a visitor.”

Bobby poked his head over the balcony; pink apron still wrapped around his waist.

There was a police officer in the bay.

Not just any police officer, but from the pips on their collar and the nametag ‘Chief Parker’ on his chest, this was the Police Chief.

Hope welled in Bobby.

This could be it.

Answers and Justice.

“I’m here to talk to Evan Buckley.” The Chief answered Bobby’s unasked question.

Hearing his name, Buck joined Bobby on the balcony, looking down. He caught sight of the Police Chief, his eyebrows burrowing in confusion.

****

Buck gulped at the sight of the Police Chief.

He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.

Then again, if there had been a camera or two at the gas station on route to camp, the Mist could have caused him a whole heap of problems. What if the Mist mad it look like he’d set the gas station on fire himself? Or what if this had nothing to do with Buck... what if one of his campmates had been arrested or hurt?

Buck nodded numbly, as the chief asked Bobby for somewhere private so they could ‘talk’.

Buck shot Eddie a nervous look which Eddie returned with a reassuring smile and a look of relief. Did Eddie know something he didn’t?

Bobby gave Buck a pat to the shoulder as he passed, with a quiet, “You can be the man behind, if the alarm goes. Take your time.”

The door closed behind them.

The Chief took a seat behind Bobby’s desk.

There was a beat of silence as the two assessed each other quietly. Buck stood, shifting from one foot to the other, willing himself not to fiddle with his Lighter in his pocket.

“I’m Chief Parker. I’m here because one of my sergeant’s, Sergeant Grant has instigated an investigation against your camp. She believes it is the instigator of multiple counts of child abuse, child endangerment and exploitation.”

Buck felt the blood rush from his face.

It was one thing for the 118 to think he had been part of a cult or conversion camp, but if their misinterpretations and assumptions were going further, potentially putting his entire Camp and family at risk, this had to stop.

“Look, I don’t know what ‘Thena has been saying –“

Chief Parker’s eyebrows rose slightly at the informal use of Sergeant Grant’s name, unsure if he should be impressed or concerned at Buck’s blasé use of a Goddess’ name.

“ – but, I’ve not been part of a conversion camp or cult! No one has been hurting me and there’s definitely nothing sinister going on. My camp was just a bit hippie, nothing more.”

Buck gave the chief an imploring look, unsure of how else he could defend Camp Half-Blood to a mortal.

Chief Parker stared at Buck, deadpanned expression.

“I don’t think you’re part of a cult or a trafficking ring as Sergeant Grant implied, with  –“ He replied, ignoring Buck’s choked, ‘Trafficking ring?!, “ – in fact, I know you’re not.” And, switching to Ancient Greek, he continued. “I am Chief Sylvan Parker, son of Themis, and I know who you are, Evan Buckley, child of Hestia.”

Buck’s mouth dropped open in pure shock; whatever he’d expected the chief to say, it wasn’t that.

“But – But –,” Buck spluttered, mind fracturing in confusion, eyes roving over the Chief’s face. “But you’re old.”

He felt the colour rise back into his face, in the form of a blush; his mouth had the tendency to just say things without any form of filter, however, Buck felt he had a decent excuse this time. It was so rare for demi-gods to grow up, to get old; age was a privilege, for those like them. He could count on one hand the number of older demi-gods he knew – older than his cohort, at least – and that amounted to Quintus, the Roman demi-gods he’d met, and a few college graduates from New Rome. To see a demi-god as old as the Chief – in his sixties or so – was shocking. Practically unheard of.

The chief gave Buck an unimpressed glare.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to say –!”

“I know what you meant, Evan Buckley.” The chief interrupted, snippily. “I know well how few of us reach my age. We have an expiry date from the moment we’re claimed.” He gave Buck a stern glance. “But, as I said, both myself and the Assistant Chief, who was formally of Camp Jupiter, have been made aware of your indiscretions as of yesterday.”

Buck winced.

Half his mind wanted to linger more on the fact that there was another demi-god – even if they were a Roman – that was so high up in the LAPD, the other half of his mind cringed at the thought of the two of them discussing ways to circumvent the problems Buck had caused.

“I’m sorry! I don’t even know how it happened!” Buck pushed a hand through his hair, frustratedly pulling at it. “One day I mention that I don’t know what Facebook is and haven’t really used a phone before, the next day they see my scars and decide I was abused! I promise I wouldn’t have told them anything properly about camp, I–”

Sylvan nodded along as Buck spoke; it was harder for the current generation of demi-gods, with the internet and technological disconnect, it made it harder to relate and assimilate back into the mortal world.

He raised a hand, cutting Buck’s tirade off.

“Okay, okay.” Sylvan sighed, heavily. “I will tell Sergeant Grant that we’ve looked into things and see no need to investigate further. You will do what you can to not invite any further investigation, won’t you, Buckley?”

Buck nodded mutely.

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind. “Should I be telling Chiron or the high ups at Camp to be cautious? Or tell the scouts when they’re bringing kids in?”

The Chief hummed in agreement. “I think that would be wise. You were lucky that Sergeant Grant came to us about this; who knows what would have happened otherwise.” His voice lowered, as he spoke more to himself than Buck. “Angering any of our parents is never a smart move.”

The Chief stood, reaching for the door handle.

“You’ve done us a service, Buck –“ The Chief intoned softly, finally using Buck’s chosen name. “ – you and your friends at camp. I know how many of you died and the scars you have from doing our parents’ bidding. I grew up in a time when very few children were claimed at Camp… where very few favours were asked for. I know it’s hard to compare our experiences, but you’re not alone. And what you and your friends sacrificed for us all hasn’t been forgotten.”

The Chief finally opened the door and gestured for Buck to go through first.

The kitchen was empty when he returned, allowing Buck to numbly sit and think over how different and varied the experiences of a demi-god truly was.

He could only ponder. Would he ever get to grow old like the Chief?

****

The moment Buck and the Chief of Police stepped into Bobby’s office, Chimney, Hen, Ravi and Eddie scrambled towards the broom closet, uncaring of Bobby’s cry of surprise.

“What on earth are you all doing –?!” He called after them, ignoring their subsequent shushing motions.

All of the began jostling and pushing each other to place themselves next to an open vent, ears angled for listening.

Bobby’s eyebrows rose.

A moment of realisation struck him, with his eyes rolling up to the heavens as the logical conclusion hitting him; the vent was attached to the one in his office, a convenient way to eavesdrop on private conversations.

How long had they been using the vent to eavesdrop?!

He shook his head, deciding that he would be addressing that with the team at a later time. But he would be addressing it with them; given their lack of hesitance in racing to the closet, it wasn’t the first time they’d used this method of spying.

Bobby shuffled closer, displacing Chimney from his position at the front of the vent, giving the man a judging look when he made a displeased sound. Chimney acquiesced his spot without any further provocation.

Bobby tilted his head, tuning in.

“ –multiple counts of child abuse, child endangerment and exploitation.” The Chief’s voice sounded slightly tinny through the vents, but he could be heard clearly.

“Look, I don’t know what ‘Thena has been saying –“ Bobby could hear the desperation in Buck’s words, the same tone he always used when trying to defend his camp. “ – but, I’ve not been part of a conversion camp or cult! No one has been hurting me and there’s definitely nothing sinister going on. My camp was just a bit hippie, nothing more.”

Chimney muffled a scoff, unsuccessfully.

“I don’t think you’re part of a cult or a trafficking ring as Sergeant Grant implied –“ Came the Chief’s reply. “ – in fact, I know you’re not.”

Eddie reared his head back at that. What the hell did that mean? How could the Chief know that without even investigating?!

And to both Bobby and Eddie’s horror – and the entire 118’s – the Chief continued in Ancient Greek.

Bobby felt a chill seep into his bones.

Athena had spent over four years compiling evidence diligently, waiting and biding her time until she had enough to warrant an investigation, until she had something beyond coincidence. Four years. Only for the person she approached to be of the very cult she was trying to bring down.

How far did the cult extend?! How much power did they have in society? Was this why Buck never truly tried to ask for help?

Bobby heard Buck’s answering stutter. “But – But – But you’re old.” A beat of silence, before Buck rushed to continue.” Sorry! I didn’t mean to say –!”

Old? Bobby thought, what did age have to do with his place in the cult?

“I know what you meant, Evan Buckley. I know well how few of us reach my age. We have an expiry date from the moment we’re claimed.”

Did this mean the Chief was also a victim of the cult? Or one of its offenders or leaders? The implication that after being ‘claimed’ – Bobby hated when Buck used that word – the children rarely survived to adulthood, and definitely not to their sixties, had Bobby horrified.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bobby saw Eddie clasping a hand to his mouth. Whether to stop himself from making a noise, to prevent himself from throwing up or to hide his reactions, Bobby didn’t know.

“But, as I said, both myself and the Assistant Chief, who was formally of Camp Jupiter, have been made aware of your indiscretions as of yesterday.”

Oh God, even the Assistant Chief was part of the cycle.

Bobby closed his eyes as heard more of Buck’s protestations.

Finally, the Chief cut in. “Okay, okay. I will tell Sergeant Grant that we’ve looked into things and see no need to investigate further. You will do what you can to not invite any further investigation, won’t you, Buckley?”

To think, if Hen, Chimney and the others hadn’t suggested eavesdropping, they would never have known that Buck was being told to keep quiet by the very people they were relying on to help him.

Another thought struck Bobby, He needed to tell Athena.

“Should I be telling Chiron or the high ups at Camp to be cautious? Or tell the scouts when they’re bringing kids in?” Buck sounded worried.

Buck had looked ashen when he’d seen the Chief arrive, how aware was he of the network his camp had?

Bobby strained his ears harder as the Chief spoke quieter, “You’ve done us a service, Buck, you and your friends at camp.” Bobby didn’t want to know what ‘services’ Buck and his campmates had been asked for. “I know how many of you died and the scars you have from doing our parents’ bidding.”

Bobby felt sick.

“I grew up in a time when very few children were claimed at Camp… where very few favours were asked for. I know it’s hard to compare our experiences, but you’re not alone. And what you and your friends did hasn’t been forgotten.”

The sound of a door opening echoed through the vent.

A silence pervaded the broom closet.

Bobby glanced over to each of them: Chimney’s expression of horror, the tear rolling down Hen’s cheek, Eddie’s half-covered face with his shoulders hitching as though he was trying to stop himself from crying, and Ravi’s blank, dumbstruck expression.

Bobby cleared his throat, attempting to dislodge the lump he felt in it.

“Everyone, back to work. Don’t ask Buck anything… we’ll still be there for him.” He watched Eddie rub his face, roughly. “I need to make a phone call.”

His phone was already in his hand, speed-dial to Athena ready.

****

Buck arrived home after another very awkward shift; the entire 118 had oscillated between sending him furtive, worried glances and outright asking if he was okay. He’d attempted to insist nothing was wrong, but had only received disbelieving stares for his troubles. Eddie – contrary to his reassuring smile, when Buck had entered the room with the Chief – had been stone-faced, pale and quiet, never more than two-feet away from Buck for the rest of the shift.

“Albert?” He called out, as he entered the apartment.

The other man’s head popped out from behind the fridge. “Huh?”

“I need your help. All of the cult stuff has gone on long enough… I need your advice on how to tell the rest of the 118 the truth about Camp Half-Blood.”

Albert’s mouth fell open in surprise. “All of it?”

Buck nodded, firmly. “All of it.”