This is how Dean finally says yes:

Zachariah lays it out for him, very simply. For once, he doesn't threaten or cajole, or harm, or anything – just simply states what would happen if Dean didn't say 'yes' – the facts that Dean knows to be true. They are in the Hollywood Hills, beneath the large white letters of that dorky sign, and below them are thirteen million people. The height is dizzying – Dean's always hated flying, and this is damn close – high altitudes are all the same to him.

He knows that those thirteen million people are all going to die at the hands of some jackass minion of Lucifer's if Dean doesn't let Michael slip inside and take his body out for a spin, never mind that he's likely to be hell on the upholstery.

"Thirteen million lives versus your pathetic little existence," Zachariah sneers at him. "Are you really that selfish?"

Maybe he is. After living a lifetime of sacrificing everything, a person does tend to crave something for himself – anything, to satisfy himself – for once.

"I don't see you boldly charging into the fray," Dean snaps defensively, watching Zachariah lazily pace beneath a giant letter Y.

Zachariah stops and shakes his head. "That's because I'm not suicidal." The smarmy angel explains. "I know Michael's the only one who can handle a demon of Astaroth's power. Not to mention Lucifer's. And that's next, Dean." He sticks his hands in his pockets and lifts his chin thoughtfully. "This isn't some hypothetical future. This is right here and now. Imagine letting thirteen million people perish and then later having to consent, knowing you could have saved them. All of them," Zachariah adds, "including the traitor and your brother."

And isn't that the perfect sales-pitch? Through in the protection of Sam and Cas, and your deal with Dean Winchester is complete.

Dean would like to tell himself that it's the thirteen million that sways him, not the two. But he looks down at the twinkling bowl of lights beneath them, and there are only two faces he sees in his mind when he closes his eyes. When he grits his teeth and grinds out, "All right. Yes."

Nothing happens.

Dean's braced for it—for Michael hopping on board. He has no idea what it will be like, as he's never seen an angel actually take a vessel. Not pleasant, he has to assume. Jimmy had said something about a bright, bright light and being strapped to a comet, but Dean's seen enough to know that Castiel's on the gentle, caring-and-sharing end of the angel spectrum. Michael most probably won't be like that.

Michael will be . . . Dean's verbal freight train makes a screeching halt as nothing happens.

. . . Freaking tardy, apparently. The Righteous Man finishes, thinking that sounded lame.

Dean looks over at Zachariah, who's watching him wide-eyed and expectant, almost worshipful already. Seriously? Dude, get a freaking life. Your existence doesn't revolve around Michael, you know. You have a brain, Zachariah – use it!

"Uh, aren't we on a schedule here?" Dean asks, hesitant. "Your guy's not very punctual."

As it gets evident that they aren't going to have an Archangel slipping into his true vessel any time soon, something like fear, like doubt, creeps onto Zachariah's moonstruck face.

Dean's heart is racing, the tight knot of fear uncoiling in his belly, unravelling into something like giddiness. He looks up at the night sky pleadingly. "Hello? Michael? I went to all this trouble to throw you a party. Don't leave me sitting by the phone all night." He glances back at Zachariah, feeling confident, but scared all the same at this new revelation. "Looks like he stood me up." He says.

Zachariah continues to gape at him. Dean feels the grips of the two minion angels who've been holding him go slack. He steps forward, snaps his fingers in Zachariah's dazed face. "You still in there?" Dean questions. When Dean sees Zachariah sober up a bit, he continues, "Good. You're gonna have to face facts: your general's AWOL, dude. What are you gonna do now?"

At the bottom of the sea, there's this little necklace.

There's nothing special about the necklace – it's just one little seaweed chord. The special thing is the huge pearl that it has for a pendant. It's beautiful with a crème colour, which in the sun turns a wonderful shade of grey that's reminiscent of storm clouds and it glows a radiant yellow in the dark.

This little pearl used to sit at the bottom of Montauk Beach, safe in its little pinkish-peach oyster that protected it from the harsh cruel world.

Once Annabeth spotted this little pearl, she asked Poseidon in secret to give it to her along with some seaweed. She found it funny – still does, actually – that she's going to be giving Percy a seaweed-chord necklace. It's like a representation of them – Percy's the seaweed, and Annabeth's the pearl.

She made this little necklace all by herself – planning to give it to Percy on their next anniversary that's coming in two weeks. It's pretty, and she's sure that Percy will appreciate it.

So that Percy doesn't find it ahead of time, Annabeth also requested Percy's dad to keep it safe, and give to her precisely on August seventeenth, ten p.m.

Needless to say; he delivers it on time, and right under the pillow of her bunk too. That day, Annabeth clutches the pearl and falls asleep.

The very next day, she pockets the necklace. Percy's going to take her to Montauk as they celebrate him turning eighteen and their anniversary.

He orders a small cabin – the one he and his mother used to stay in, when they were away from Smelly Gabe – and like the sweet boyfriend he is, he makes sure any and every spider's out or killed.

How thoughtful. Annabeth thinks with gratitude, genuinely touched.

It's night time, and they're having a simple candle-lit dinner – which is also organized by Percy. It's beautiful.

After they finish, Annabeth looks deeply into Percy's pretty, churning sea-green eyes. With a soft smile, she inconspicuously removes the necklace she's been carrying the whole day from her pocket, and places it in his palm. She folds his fingers around it, shushing him as he begins to ask questions.

He has that cute, puzzled baby-seal look that makes Annabeth want to coo at him. He looks adorable.

She leads him to their room for the night.

"Open your hand, Percy."

He does.

Annabeth closes her eyes, her whole body a question. Her blood is roaring in her eyes, and she's more nervous than she'd ever felt in her life.

Percy says nothing.

As the seconds pass, her body begins to hunch on itself. When she's about to curl in on herself and turn away, Percy's warm hand stops her movement.

She looks at him, bracing herself. She doesn't expect his eyes to be lit up in pure joy, that smile she'd fallen in love with gracing his face. It makes her more confident – it always has – and she smiles back.

He's grinning now, and after a second she's crushed into one of Percy's amazing hugs.

"Thank you so much, Annabeth!" he says happily.

Annabeth's smile is so wide, it's threatening to split her face.

He promises to transfer the Camp beads to this necklace, and Annabeth's bursting in joy. She's giddy, even.

Annabeth helps him out, and now the seaweed chord has all of Percy's quests' beads – The Trident, The Fleece, The Labyrinth, The Empire State Building, and the Argo II – with the pearl in the middle.

Just as they sleep, Annabeth ties it around her boyfriend's neck.

And the next morning, Percy wakes up feeling like he'd been a Cyclops his whole life and now he suddenly has two eyes – that is, like a million bucks.

He's never been in better shape in years.

"I come bearing good news," Dean announces, in an imitation of Castiel's accent. The members of Team Free Will look at him hopefully. "Michael's gone. Out of Commission. AWOL. Whatever you want to call it, he isn't in Heaven. By the looks of it, he hasn't been upstairs for quite the while now."

He gets a different reaction than he anticipated.

Cas is furious. Sam's worried. And Bobby's gaping.

"That means," The Angel of Thursday sputters, "That means . . . I was tricked!"

Dean feels sorry for the Angels. People who're on Cas' bad side tend to be little more than ashes at best.

"If Michael's AWOL that means the Angels have been tricking us all," Sam says gravely.

"Ya sure that's true, ya idjit?" Bobby, ever the rational one, tries to confirm this. If this is Dean's idea of a joke, it's not funny. Not at all.

Dean nods.

And that's the last straw for Castiel. His face redder than any tomato Dean's ever seen, he does the Angel equivalent of storming out of the room and slamming the door behind him – flying so fast, that the beat of his wings sound like a pop!

Sam goes to Bobby's huge library to search for some answers, and Bobby's right behind him in his wheelchair.

Maybe Dean should have kept his mouth shut.

Oh well. Too late to change the past.

Which one of his brothers and sisters decided that freeing his little brother was a good idea?

Michael paces his cabin furiously. He just wants a happy life, even if for a few decades. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently yes. Fate always hated him – ever since he refused to help her with some of her paperwork. The stupid, old, nagging hag who just can't get over a denial.

And now Lucifer's roaming free, just because some insane angels wanted him free. Michael knew that his presence (or lack thereof) wouldn't be noticed in Heaven for a long time. What he didn't expect that it hadn't happened yet. It's almost two decades now, and his brothers and sisters haven't noticed!

The Hell?

Why couldn't he not remember his life till he would turn seventy and die a natural death? He would have been happy, at least.

But no – Atropos hates him, doesn't she?

He remembers where he stored his grace. It was somewhere he was positively sure that no one would find it, and now he's in full possession of it.

Also, he's in big trouble. His so-called 'superiors' are bound to notice – so are his friends. And his beloved. And his mentor.

Oh boy, he sure does have some explaining to do when they catch him.

Let's hope his family doesn't do anything . . . well, drastic that results in him having no choice but smiting them – and then bringing them back. That would just be horribly tedious and exhausting.

God, was I entrusted with the Host, again? He asks his Father.

Because you are the only one capable. God replies simply. When the time came, you knew what to do – as you will know when the time shall come.

I don't understand.

You will understand, My Son. God says, and now Michael can hear the age in His voice. Soon enough, you will understand. And I am sure you will react accordingly.

How can You be so sure?

You are My Son, Michael. You are the one who understands me the best since you know Me the longest out of all your siblings. I had something in mind when I created you – and that something will come alive when it is time. You have always been special, Michael, God says softly, you have just never realized it.

Thanks. I needed that.

Anytime.

"Come on!" his girlfriend hollers. "The gang's here, and they bear gifts!"

He smiles.

The Apocalypse? What Apocalypse? He has no idea what you're talking about.

He just knows that it's his birthday, and his friends and family have gifts.

Lucifer's pushed to back of his mind, and he races to the Amphitheatre in happiness.

"Sorry if it's a bit chilly." Lucifer says, drawing a pitch-fork on the frost he creates on the window.

Sam and Dean don't really know what to say.

"Most people think I burn hot," the Devil continues, "It's actually quite the opposite."

"Well I'll alert the media." Dean says snaps.

Lucifer turns to look at them. He paces a bit, and claps his hands together. "Help me understand something guys," he says, "I mean, stomping through my front door's tad suicidal, don't you think?"

Sam gathers his courage. "We're not here to fight you."

"No?" Lucifer asks. "Then why are you here?"

"I want to say yes."

Lucifer does a double-take. "'Scuse me?"

Sam closes his eyes, and Lucifer's cronies drop down dead.

Dean just looks on helplessly from Sam to Lucifer and vice versa, because they didn't have another plan.

"High on demon blood, are we?"

"You heard me," Sam raises his chin defiantly, "Yes."

"You're serious." Lucifer regards his destined vessel with newfound interest.

The Winchesters exchange a glance.

"Look," Sam says, "Judgment day's a runaway train, we get it now. We just want off."

"Meaning?" Satan asks.

"Deal of the century," Sam proposes. Lucifer looks like he's considering it. "I give you a free ride, but when it's all over – I live," Sam points at Dean, "He lives, and you bring our parents back."

"Okay, can we please drop the telenovela?" Lucifer states. Sam's eyes narrow. "I know you have the rings, Sam." The Devil explains.

Dean twitches. A brief flicker of panic shoots across Sam's face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The Horsemen's rings? The magic keys to my Cage?" Lucifer walks to the youngest living Winchester. "Ring a bell?"

Dean hyperventilates. Sam glares.

"C'mon, Sam. I've never lied to you, you could at least pay me the same respect!"

Sam glares harder. Dean is one step away from a full-blown panic attack.

"It's okay, I'm not mad." Lucifer consoles, before making a new deal. "A wrestling match inside your noggin, I like the idea. Just you and me, one round, no tricks." Lucifer gestures. "You win, you jump in the hole. I win, well – then I win."

Satan looks at Sam intently. "What d'you say, Sam? A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you." Lucifer sing-songs.

"So he knows," Sam mutters, "doesn't change anything."

Sam cuts off Dean's protest before it even begins. "Sam –"

"We don't have any other choice."

"Sam, no."

Dean panics, looking from Lucifer to Sam, as his younger brother picks up his insurgent attitude. "Yes." Sam says.

A bright, noisy light fills the room. Dean shields his eyes with his arms.

And finds Sam, unconscious, on the floor.

He fumbles in his pocket for the keys to Lucifer's cage before flinging it at the wall. He chants.

With every word, the wall begins to fracture. When it's over, what's left of the wall is a gaping black hole.

Sam stirs.

Dean notices the movement.

"Sammy!" he shouts, helping his little brother up.

"Dean." Sam groans.

"Sammy!"

"Ugh," Sam says, woozy with pain, "I can feel him, oh god."

"Sammy go now." Dean steels his heart. "Run!"

"Go now, Sammy," Dean looks at his younger brother, green eyes fuelled with intent. "Now."

Sam shoves Dean behind, who looks on with sorrow-filled eyes.

The Vessel of Lucifer heaves, before smiling at Dean. "I was just messing with you."

"Sammy's long gone."

As Lucifer says the counter-spell and takes possession of the keys, Dean stands stock-still.

"I told you," Lucifer says, his face a mockery of sympathy, "this would always happen in Detroit."

He knows. Dean's left all alone to wallow in his misery as the Devil flies off to some unknown location.

"It's starting." Castiel says gravely.

"You don't think, genius?" Dean says sarcastically.

"You don't need to be mean."

"So what do we do know?" Dean asks Cas, looking for some consolation.

"I suggest we imbibe copious amounts of alcohol and just wait for the inevitable blast wave. Without Michael, Lucifer's bound to win this war."

"Yes, well, thank you, Cas." Dean's the same sarcastic little shit as ever. "I mean, how do we stop it?"

Cas looks at Dean, long and hard.

"We don't."

"Lucifer will find a way to meet Michael – they were, after all, the closest brothers of all in Heaven – on the chosen field. And when he does, the battle of Armageddon begins. Or, Michael will not show up at all and Lucifer will end up destroying the world and rebuilding it to its former glory."

"But where's this chosen field?"

"I don't know."

"Well there's gotta be something that we can do!" Dean snaps, frustrated.

"I'm sorry, Dean." And Castiel truly looks remorseful. "This is really over."

"Well listen to me, you junk-less sissy," Dean threatens, "We are not giving up."

"There was never much hope to begin with, I do not know what else we can do."

"In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day – sometimes a week if they were lucky. They'd pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work but now he hustles pool, like his brother. They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove a thousand miles for a show, two days for a game. And when it was clear, they'd park her in the middle of nowhere – sit on the hood and watch the stars; for hours. Without saying a word. It never really occurred to them – sure, the might not have a roof and four walls . . . but they were never, in fact, homeless."

Chuck pauses.

"That's a good line."

His phone rings. Clearing his throat, he answers it. "Becky."

"Um, no, Chuck."

Chuck's face falls. "Oh, uh, Dean. Uh, wow – I didn't . . . I didn't know you'd call."

"How's Becky? How's your 'virgin hooker' thing going on?"

"She's fine and – this can't be why you called!" Chuck sputters, embarrassed.

Dean drops the bomb. "Sam said yes."

"I know." Chuck says quietly. "I saw it. I'm just working on the pages."

"Did you see where the title fight goes down?"

"The angels are keeping it top secret – very hush-hush," Chuck replies.

"Crap."

"But I saw it anyway. Perks of being a Prophet." Chuck grins, adjusting his robes. "It's uh, tomorrow. High noon. Place called Stull Cemetery. If Michael's going to show his face, it's going to be right there."

"Stull Cemet-" Dean mutters, before breaking off abruptly. "Wait, I know that. That's – that's an old boneyard outside Lawrence. Why Lawrence?"

"Don't know." Chuck answers. "It all has to end where it started, I guess."

"You know any way to short circuit this thing?"

"No . . . sorry."

"Do you have any idea what's going to happen next?"

"I wish that I did. But I just – I honestly don't know yet."

"Alright. Thanks Chuck." Dean says, cutting the call.

"Ya goin' someplace?" Bobby asks before scrutinizing him. "Yer gonna do something stupid – ya got that look."

Silence.

"I'm gonna go talk to Sam."

"Ya just don't get it-"

"It's Sam."

"You couldn't reach him here, you certainly won't on the battlefield." Castiel adds his own two cents. Not helping!

"Well if we've already lost then I guess I got nothin' to lose, right?"

"I just want you to understand," Cas says, "the only things you're going to see out there are either Michael killing your brother, or Lucifer on his way to destroying the Earth as we know it – in Sam's body, who'll be dying as Lucifer does this – and make it anew."

"Well then I ain't gonna let him die alone."

Cas looks at him, pleading with him to not attempt this insane rescue mission. Dean's stubborn though, and he won't be moved.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, big brother," Lucifer calls out, "let's end this game of cat and mouse, shall we?"

He gets no response.

A cheesy classic rock song plays from the speakers of the Impala, and Dean steps out. He's resting his arms on the door.

"Hiya, Lucy! Haven't you got the memo yet?" Dean says tauntingly. "Michael's gone – you won't be hearing from him in a while. That's the only reason you're not fighting with your older brother – who's freaking tardy, apparently – wearing my mug. Oh, and I need five minutes with Sam."

Lucifer growls. "What have you done with him?"

"Nothing!" Dean says, far too cheerful. "He left himself. Hasn't been sighted in Heaven for quite the while, apparently. Sammy," his tone grows sombre, "Can you hear me?"

"You know, I tried to be nice – for Sammy's sake." Lucifer says, angry now. He's clutching Dean's jacket, and Dean doesn't dare to move a muscle. "But you – are such a pain, in my ass."

And Satan promptly smacks Dean into the windshield of his car.

"That's enough." A stern voice calls out. "Let Dean Winchester go. Apparently I can't go one month without being stuck into some crisis by Fate." He mutters darkly.

Their heads whip around to see the guy. He's twenty at most, with dark hair and piercing green eyes – just like Dean's, even if they're more expressive and bright. They have hidden knowledge, horror, madness, and somehow a certain degree of innocence. He talks with a New York accent, which is much different than his Texan one.

Icicles surround him, and they're all aimed at Lucifer who's scowling at the offender. Never has Dean been so happy in his life.

"Perseus Jackson," Lucifer snarls. "You've defeated Sister Gaea – and you are powerful, I admit. But this is a tad above your pay grade, don't you think?"

What now? Dean has no idea who this 'Perseus' guy is, neither does he know any angel named 'Gaea'.

Perseus frowns. "It's Percy, dick. By the way, your sister is annoying, to say the least. Au contraire, I think this falls right under my pay grade, brother dear."

Dean's eyes narrow – well as much as they can when they're all puffy and swollen. Which one of the junk-less sissies is Percy?

Lucifer too, has the same train of thought. "I don't recognize you, brother. Which one are you?"

Percy adorns a hurt look. "I'm hurt, Sammael. You don't remember little old me?"

Lucifer's eyes widen, if only slightly.

"It's good to see you, Michael."

"You too." Percy says, a fond smile playing on his lips, "It's been too long."

"Can you believe it's finally here?" Lucifer asks.

"Actually no, I can't believe that it's actually here. Which idiot's idea was it to release you, again?" Percy bites sarcastically.

Dean likes Michael. He isn't a stick-in-the-mud like the rest of his siblings, and by the looks of it, he doesn't need Dean to be his angel condom.

But he feels like he's interrupting a family conversation, and isn't that just beyond awkward?

"I wish that we didn't have to do this." Lucifer ignores Percy's quip, looking sad.

"Do what, Sammael?" Michael honestly looks confused.

"Fight," Lucifer elaborates, "bring the Apocalypse."

"Oh really?" Percy drawls. "You calling me here says so otherwise."

"What if it wasn't my fault?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it. Dad made everything." Lucifer says. "Which means, He made me who I am. God wanted the Devil."

"So?" Michael asks.

"So why? Why make us fight? I just can't figure out the point." Lucifer looks at Percy helplessly.

"What's your point?"

"We're going to kill each other – and for what? One of Dad's tests . . . We don't even know the answer. We're brothers, let's just walk of the chessboard."

"Keep your silver tongue to yourself, Sammael. You do realize you're late, right?" Percy snaps, enraged. "What part of 'Falling' don't you understand? I'm not like you –"

"Please, Michael." Lucifer pleads with Sam's puppy dog eyes, but Michael's not moved in the slightest. Good.

"You haven't changed a bit, little brother – always blaming everybody but yourself." Percy rages. "We were together, we were happy – but you betrayed me, all of us, and you made our Father leave!"

"No one makes Dad do anything." Lucifer argues. "He is doing this to us!"

Percy shakes his head, looking disappointed. "You'll never change, Sammael. I'm sorry – but you have to be put down." Michael turns to the sky. "Now, Castiel!"

"Hey Ass-butt!" Cas shouts, and a golden net falls on Lucifer. Lucifer reacts, but he's too late – the trap's in place.

Dean gapes.

"Am I the only one out of the loop?" He asks to no one in particular.

Percy smiles. "Yes, yes you are."

The teenaged angel turns to his younger brother. "Do you like it?" he asks as Lucifer growls, betrayed. "Hephaestus' invention – that old guy always did have the brightest ideas – but I tweaked it a bit. Instead of holding gods, it's designed to hold angels and reduce their power to nothing. Pretty cool, if I do say so myself."

"You can't keep me trapped forever, Michael."

"I can't keep you trapped here," Michael agrees, with a sad smile on his face, "but I most definitely can keep you trapped in your Cage." And he brings out the rings of the Horsemen.

"What?" Dean says. Lucifer's even more stupefied than Dean is.

Percy grins. "Those rings you got there? Those are decoys. This?" he waves the rings in air, "This is the real deal."

Cas chokes. "So we were following false leads the whole time?!"

"Not exactly, Cassie, but it's more like – well, I took them way earlier than anyone expected. Come on, did you really think that Chaos' created beings are going to become powerless just by you removing their rings? Puh-lease. They're one of the most powerful beings to exist, guys. And they can always make fake ones. The ones you had? Those lead to Tartarus – right in the pit of Chaos."

Lucifer and Castiel shudder.

Dean's confused.

"Who the Hell's Chaos?" he asks.

The three angels look grave. "The Creator of the Creator. It's the most despicable thing to ever exist – thankfully asleep. If it ever rises, we're screwed."

"Oh." Dean almost squeaks.

"Oh." Michael agrees and begins the chant.

The oldest Archangel concentrates, and a white light is wrenched out of Lucifer as he screams – falling into his Cage once more.

The portal closes, and Michael hands the light to Castiel. "I, Archangel Michael task you, Castiel of the Seraphim, to rebuild this soul's mortal body and promote you to the position of my regent. If I shall ever be absent from Heaven, you shall rule it – your word shall be law, and only I shall be able to override it."

Cas looks at Percy in wonder. "You really mean that, brother?"

"I sure do, Cassie." Percy grins. "Bring our brothers and sisters in the Throne Room, would you? We have to have a chat . . . one that's long overdue."

Castiel nods and flies off.

Michael looks at Dean. "You'll be getting your brother soon enough, but stay with Bobby – he's sleeping now, and one of Lucifer's demons may or may not attack him – just out of spite."

He doesn't even snap his fingers, or anything. Even then, Dean finds himself at Sioux Falls.

I finally understand, Father.

Just as I knew you would, Michael.

"Okay, which one of you idiots had this great idea of raising Lucifer?" Michael demands.

The angels shift – some in guilt, some in fear of Michael's wrath even though they have no idea. Raphael and Zachariah's eyes are cast on the ground, and they look like they're going to collapse into themselves and vanish into existence.

"Raphael?" Michael asks, incredulous. "Zachariah? It was yours?"

The two angels nod, timidly.

"What were you thinking?!" The Eldest explodes. "Did you even bother to see if I was in Heaven before bringing Paradise, forget that it was way ahead if its time?!"

"It was?" An angel asks, scared of Michael's fury.

Michael though, softens a bit. "Samandriel, is it?" the angel nods. "I know you weren't involved in this, but I'll tell you – your older brothers," Michael glares at each and every one who he knows was involved in the 'Apocalypse', "They were all too excited to bring the Apocalypse on us. It wasn't an accident – it was purely intentional. Since you had no idea, I won't pin any of the blame on you."

The youngest angel looks relieved. "Thank you, Michael."

Michael nods.

"As for the rest of you who knew," His glare is venomous enough to kill twenty elephants, "will be demoted –"

The accused protest. One more glare and they shut up.

"And will work under the younger ones. Perhaps that will teach you all a lesson in humility. None of you will be able to regain your rank unless I say so. And I get wind of any of you threatening your superiors . . ." Michael lets the threat hang.

"But you don't have Father's permission!" Raphael protests.

Michael smiles coldly as God's symbol lights up behind him. "On the contrary, I think I have God's full permission, little brother."

Castiel pops in with Gabriel in tow, who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

"Hi, Gabriel," Michael greets cordially. "How're you?"

"I'm peachy, Mike." He says, slightly scared of how his brother will react.

Michael rushes to him, hugging Gabriel. Gabriel stiffens, and he can feel slight tears soaking his shirt. The Trickster feels ashamed of himself.

Gabriel hugs back just as hard. Michael furiously wipes off his tears, and clutches Gabriel by the shoulder.

"Gabriel and Castiel be the ones to govern Heaven in my absence." He declares. "They have proven themselves worthy, and I hope that's not a complaint on your lips, Virgil."

Virgil quietens.

"Where will you be going?" Another young angel asks.

"You're Balthazar, yes?" Michael questions. Balthazar beams that Michael says that, so Michael assumes that. "I'll be living a regular human life for a while. It's beautiful, shame no one here wants to try it."

And he flies off.

Annabeth's still sleeping.

Percy smiles softly, before climbing in bed with her. He kisses her forehead reverently and thinks, Falling was so worth it.

Even the pain.

Because he had gained his Wise Girl, and nothing would change that – not if he had a hand in it. Annabeth is the best thing that's ever happened to him, and Percy's damned if he lets go of her.

She loves him, and he her.

Maybe next year, he'll propose to her.

Yes, that's a good idea.

See you douches in seventy, eighty years! Percy thinks happily. Finally, the burden's off him – if only for a while.

Edit: 08/29/2018

Wow. I did not anticipate when writing this story it would come this far. It's one of the most popular stories in the Percy Jackson and Supernatural crossovers, and I couldn't be happier.

Thank you to everyone who favourited, followed, reviewed or just silently read the story. This means so much to me.

Since I've put up this story, I've gotten many requests to write a sequel. Initially, I had no plans to, but when I saw your requests; I started contemplating the idea. I know I initially said it would come out in April, but my personal life problems got in the way. But better late than never, right?

So, the sequel you've all been waiting for is up!

Winchesters Are Morons:
Michael thought that at least Team Free Will was a responsible bunch; but nope. They keep screwing up more times than should be possible, only this time they almost destroy the universe with them. Thanks a lot, Winchesters.

As always,

R&R
Star