Holy Water [Dean Winchester]

18: Drowning on Solid Ground

Dearest Readers,

I am well, but to be honest lately things have been hard for me mentally. I finally gave myself a kick in the butt and started to write again so now here you go! Expect some more updates coming soon. I like writing these characters so I hope you all enjoy reading their story!

XOXO Ally Layne.

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"Are you telling me you lost it?"

Persie gripped the back of Dean's seat in the '67 Chevy Impala, doing her best to not rip it into shreds with her rage.

The miniature clipper ship that was wrapped up in Dean's coat pocket told them all differently. "I am going to kill that bitch the next time I see her," Persie growled.

"Well, Sam, looks like you got groped by Mrs. Haversham for nothing," Annabeth summed up, leaning back in her seat behind the younger man with a sigh. "It was a great plan, one worthy of Athena," she mused.

Persie snorted from where she was seated next to her. "At least, it was until Dean started thinking with his dick instead of his brain!"

Dean let out a low growl as he sped down the darkened streets, teeth grit together and his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "I'm going to kill her."

Annabeth let out another long sigh. "We can't kill her," she said. "She's the only one who knows where the hand is."

Persie threw her head back against the seat. "Well, as soon as her usefulness expires I am so going to drown her."

"Not unless I shoot her first," Dean muttered, backed up by a short agreement from Sam.

.

.

.

.

The four of them were stewing in their anger all the way back to Peter's house, which was decidedly quiet when they walked in.

"Peter?" Persie called out, turning on some of the lights as they went.

Dean and Sam immediately pulled out their guns as Annabeth grabs her sword made of Dragon Bone from where she had it stashed along her back. They both blinked at the sight of her weapon, but Persie kept moving forward.

"Peter, you there?"

She grabbed her pen and flicked off the cap.

"What's going on?"

The four immediately turned to look at the staircase, where Peter, decked in a robe and pajamas, was walking down the stairs while rubbing his eyes. If he had been wearing one of those sock night caps then he would've looked like that one Scrooge guy Persie saw at a play that her mom made her go to last Christmas.

Obviously, the man had been sleeping.

And decidedly not dead.

Persie sighed, before capping Riptide and leaning against the wall behind her as the adrenaline slowly left her body. "Nothing, just making sure you weren't dead."

He looked between the Winchesters and the demigods and nodded faintly. "Yeah, I'm still alive."

"Good," Persie said.

He nodded, and his eyes were slowly starting to widen as he was able to clearly see the girls in front of him. "Well, you look nice," he said. "And I wasn't invited?"

Annabeth gave him a small smile. "Not this time."

Persie grinned over at Peter. "Stay alive and maybe we'll take you out another time, Pete."