A little idea I can't seem to get out of my mind... Let me know what you think x

1/Annabeth

The first thing she noticed was the temperature.

Her skin prickled slightly, raising hairs on her exposed arms and legs. A girl of lesser knowledge would have blamed it on her uniform; short and thin, easily penetrated by cold. But she knew instantly that this was different. It wasn't someone cranking the thermostat, it wasn't a draft, it wasn't an idle door left propped open. This was a warning.

She surveyed the diner from where she stood. There was one customer left, which was understandable for the hour. He was dressed in mainly darks, his leather jacket worn and used, and judging from the amount of mud on his shoes and the state of his car outside, he was only passing through. Her gaze darted to the left, where her coworker was wiping down tables. Her back was turned, but she didn't need see the other girl's face to know she was watching that man.

On impulse, she snagged up the coffee jug and approached the man with quick steps. He was hunched over, his plate cleaned and his mug empty just as she thought, pouring intently over a crossword with only one word to fill. "Refill, sir?" She watched him look up in surprise, shaken from his thoughts. He was a large man, a scar marring on cheek under dark eyes. Fatigue marked him with even darker circles; he'd probably been driving all night. For a moment, she pitied him. And then she remembered that no one wanted to be pitied.

"No, just the check." His voice was tired too.

She nodded with a tight smile. She glanced down at his crossword. "It's 'petrichor,'" she said as she turned away.

"Sorry?"

He was looking at her in puzzlement. "Number forty-seven across." She smiled again from behind the counter. "The smell of dust after rain."

He nodded in thanks and bent over the crossword again. Keeping her eyes on him, she began to ring him up at the register.

A long, manicured hand on the register stopped her. "I can do that." Katrina had approached silently, and her closeness couldn't trigger a reaction other than a jerk of surprise. She seemed to enjoy it. Annabeth met Katrina's eyes with a steely gaze of her own. Katrina was taller than her, a brunette to her blonde, and far more beautiful to boot. But there were no doubts about what lay beneath that pretty face; hell, she could practically smell it on her.

"Are you sure?" It was easy enough to articulate an innocent, concerned tone. Annabeth frowned. "It's not a big deal."

Katrina smiled, an unnerving sight full of red lips and white teeth. "It's late. You should go home, I can close up."

Every muscle in her body was screaming, itching to act. Don't leave them alone. Don't leave them alone. Her mind knew better; logically, this was neither the time nor the place for a fight. And she couldn't kill Katrina now. Not when they were so close. Her thoughts went to the man with the crossword, and she considered her options. She chose the one that felt most wrong; it was probably the right one.

She smiled back. "Thanks." She made herself pull her coat over her uniform, sling her bag over her shoulder, and walk out the door, calling a goodnight to them both. It was warmer outside than in, but gooseflesh still covered her limbs, and she was clenching her fist so hard her nails were digging into her palm. Don't go back. Don't go back. Don't go back, she chanted to herself.

But nevertheless, she found herself slipping in the back door. With a sinking feeling, she realized she was too late. The man was being barred from the door by Katrina, whose hands were gripping his collar, long nails digging in.

He was tripping over his own words. "Have to..." he struggled to procure a protest, but couldn't.

I can save him. The thought was motivation enough. She dropped her bag to the ground, already knowing nothing inside could help her. Left with only one choice, she reached for her knife, strapped securely to her thigh. It slid out of its sheath with a slight scraping noise that was somehow comforting. Despite it all, she caught herself wishing she could hear the sound of it slitting Katrina's throat.

"You have to stay with me," Katrina yanked the poor man to her, and, before Annabeth could attack, sank her teeth into his throat. She pressed her back to the wall, a string of curses running through her brain as the sounds of wet ripping and tearing could be heard in the back room. I'm sorry.

She propelled herself into the room on pure impulse, a stupid move. But she knew someone who did everything on impulse and was still alive, so what the hell? "Hey!"

Taken by surprise, Katrina's true form flashed through her disguise. Flaming head of hair, blood-stained fangs, and the unmistakable mismatched legs protruding from her uniform's skirt. One metallic, the other furred. Empousa.

The creature gave a low hiss at the sight of the knife. "You." It was a snarl, but Annabeth was pleased to see the monster's crimson eyes widen by a fraction of an inch.

She twirled the blade. "Me."

"I thought I smelled something on you," Katrina growled. "Demigod."

"Masking spell," she replied. "Good to know it works. That means the others won't know I'm coming for them once you're dead."

Katrina hissed again, sliding into a crouch. "I'm going to rip your throat out."

She gripped the knife tightly. "I'd like to see you try."

The monster hurled itself at her; she flung the knife up to bat away the claws searching for skin to claw. She bit back a scream when they found purchase along the skin of her arm, nearly turning it to ribbons. She lurched away, parrying another strike, and hacked down with the knife. It screeched and skittered back, its stump of a wrist weeping blood. Annabeth struck down a swipe of the other hand and plunged the knife into Katrina's heart until the hilt was cutting into the fabric of her uniform.

The eyes had turned human again, a petty trick on Katrina's part. They were wide and glassy and blue, staring into Annabeth's with horror etched into them. The ruby lips parted, but only air wheezed through them rather than words. "Have fun in Tartarus," Annabeth hissed. And then with a final wail, Katrina exploded, leaving Annabeth coated in the glittery fine dust of her remains.

She coughed. It had settled in her hair and tainted her mouth with a foul taste. Like rot. She spat. One glance proved the man long dead. Katrina's first bite alone would have been enough. Annabeth sighed. She hated casualties.

"Nice one."

She didn't jump upon hearing the sudden voice. She only glared at the dark figure in the shadowy booth in the corner. "And where the hell have you been?" she demanded.

The pale boy raised an eyebrow at her. "Enjoying the show."

Annabeth bit down on her cheek. A few years ago she might've screamed at him. Why didn't you help? Why didn't you save him? But she knew what he would say.

He tilted his head, seeming to read her thoughts. And he said it anyway. "We can't save everyone."

It saddened her, that it was such a simple notion to him. For him, there wasn't much difference between the dead and the living. Just what world they walked in. But she knew he helped, when it was called for. He would point the occasional soul in the right direction, nudge them to Elysium rather than the Asphodel Fields or—gods forbid—the Fields of Punishment. She knew he tried. She just wished he would try harder.

His expression softened. "It was his time, anyway," he informed her quietly. "I couldn't have saved him if I wanted to."

She sighed. "I know." She wiped her knife clean on a neglected rag and stowed it away, then picked up a broom from the ground to quickly dispose of Katrina's remains. Once the dust was scattered, she picked up her bag. There would be no time to run tonight, even if she let herself want to. Like it or not, she would have to be there to find the body in the morning.

He slid easily to his feet, and she was suddenly reminded of how tall he was. He wasn't a boy anymore. "I grabbed the security tapes," he said. "You're safe."

She was still looking down at Katrina's last meal. "Can we—?"

"Your fingerprints would be all over him."

She went quiet. He was right, of course. The dead man would have to wait for others to bury him. She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm tired, Nico." She felt him appear beside her silently, offer his arm out to her.

"I know."

She took it halfheartedly, and he pulled her closer, his version of reassurance. "Let's go home. He's waiting."

And she gripped him a little bit tighter as he pulled them into nothingness.

Someone was hugging her as soon as they materialized, locking her into an iron grip she couldn't have broken even if she wanted to. Of course, she didn't want to. She sank into it instead, breathing in the smell of salt and home alike. He pulled back to stare at her, green eyes heavy with sleep, but still bright. She loved those eyes.

"Are you alright?"

She laughed. "I'm fine."

"She killed the empousa."

She shot Nico a glare as her boyfriend's mouth popped open. He grinned and winked at her impishly before ducking into the fridge; for cover or for food, she didn't know. She sighed. "Percy-"

"I should've been there with you." The eyes had turned from sleepy to hard as stones, and she wanted to roll hers. She kept them still in her head; she didn't want to fight him. Partially because she was tired, mostly because she already knew she would win.

"I'm fine," she repeated. "I can take care of myself, Seaweed Brain. It was one puny little empousa."

"Who was our only lead."

Oh, he was pulling that card. She leveled a glare at him. "Well, I'm sorry. I was more concerned with pulling her off an innocent man than finding her family."

"They'll be long gone by now," Nico put in. He was leaning over the counter with a carton of ice cream and a spoon, watching the two as though they were a soap opera.

Annabeth's lip curled at him. "I can make a few calls," she countered. "They'll be wiped out by morning." She turned away, hoping to go soak in a hot bath and forget everything she'd seen that night.

"That's not the point here." She paused mid-step, surprised by his tone. "You can't blow everything off to save one stranger. You'll get hurt."

She laughed again. "This coming from you? The one guy I know whose fatal flaw is turning himself into a human shield?" She scoffed at him before he could answer. "Don't be a hypocrite."

"Hypocrite? Coming from the girl who would sacrifice infants to a battle plan?" They were nose-to-nose now. "Why did you need to save him anyway? What was it to you?"

"It was the right thing to do!"

Silence crept in. She was half-hoping the force of her glare would burn a hole in his face. Even the sound of the spoon on the carton had stopped.

Percy was scowling. "Face it, Wise Girl. You just wanted to kill something."

"Ooh," Nico murmured.

Annabeth whirled on him. "You! Out!"

"Are Mommy and Daddy going to have a sword fight now?"

"No," she gritted out. "Mommy's going to shove a sword up your ass." The span of seconds it took him to shadow-travel upstairs was surprisingly pleasing. She turned back to Percy, whose gaze had become mournful. She sighed. "Fine. Maybe I did want to kill something. But I wanted to do it because it was killing first."

He broke her gaze to look down at the floor. He sighed too. "We'll have to move again."

"Not tonight." She kicked off her shoes and padded into the kitchen to heat some soup up. Percy was looking at her questioningly. "If I disappear the same night he dies, I'll be on someone's watchlist," she explained tiredly. "I have to be there to answer questions in the morning, at least. Or they'll get suspicious." She cranked up the burner with two fingers and turned to find him right behind her. "Lou Ellen's spell is holding," she reminded him.

He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "We won't leave until it's over, then. We'll find some place small. Lay low."

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"Hopefully, we're doing it well enough," he murmured. He kissed her forehead and brought her close, so her nose was pressed against his chest. There it was again. She never could understand why that salt smell stuck to his clothes. No matter how many times she washed them it wouldn't leave. She understood it's way of comfort even less; she just breathed it. And hoped.