So, I seem to be on a roll with writing these chapters. They keep getting longer, and somehow, a one-shot has turned into a three-shot in a matter of days. All I can say is, Tala White 14, keep dreaming, because apparently they give me plot bunnies and inspiration.

Anyway, this takes place a few months after the second chapter, and features Nico meeting the McCall Pack. I'm sorry if any of them seem OOC, as this story is my first time writing them.

Thank you to everyone who's supported this story. If you have any ideas for future chapters, please give them to me, as I'm afraid after this chapter I don't know where to go.

I do not own Percy Jackson or Teen Wolf.

I hope you enjoy!

Nico stumbled out of the shadows, moaning in pain, a hand across his bloodied abdomen in a futile attempt to keep his blood inside his body where it belonged. Bracing himself against a tree, he looked down to inspect the injury, thanking all the hours he had spent in the Camp infirmary keeping Will company - and his boyfriend's habit of making sure he always carried ambrosia and nectar. Taking out a brownie sized piece, Nico practically shoveled it into his mouth, breathing a sigh of relief as the pain faded, replaced with a now-familiar itchy feeling as his skin slowly knit back together. Waiting for the ambrosia to finish working, he looked up to inspect where he'd taken himself in his hurried escape from a flock of harpies. Blinking in surprise, he found that he stood on an empty road beside a sign welcoming him to "Beacon Hills, California". Somehow, instead of traveling back to New Rome, he'd found himself near Parrish the Human Hellhound. And stuck, too, he figured, until he'd regained the strength lost when his stomach had been lacerated and he'd completed multiple trips through the shadows. He would call Mrs. O'Leary, but he didn't have the power necessary to summon her. Instead, it looked like a different hellhound was going to have to help him. Sighing, he started what looked like a long walk into town.

Parrish looked up from the paperwork on his desk when he heard the station's door open and a familiar voice asked the attendant, "Is there a Deputy Parrish here?"

Standing, he made his way over and raised an eyebrow at the bloody, tired looking teen in the front entrance. "I'm right here, Nico."

The demigod turned to him, relief written all over his face. "Thank the gods," he sighed. "Is there a place we can talk?" He paused, glancing at the attendant, and added, "Privately."

Sheriff Stilinski was grumbling down at the salad Stiles had dropped off as his lunch when the door to his office opened. "Sheriff?" Parrish questioned. "Can we come in? It's about that business earlier - the trip to New York?"

The Sheriff immediately straightened in his chair, and while his eyes went questioningly to the strange teen behind his deputy, he nodded. "Yes, yes, come in. You're just in time to save me from my lunch."

Parrish's eyes dropped to the salad, and he laughed. "You know, Stiles will know if you don't eat it. He's roped Scott in on his plans to save your health, and as disgusting as it is, the 'wolves can smell what we've all eaten."

Stilinski groaned, "I know, I know. But enough about me. Who's our guest?"

"Nico di Angelo," the teen introduced. "I'd shake your hand, but, uh…" Everyone glanced down at them as he pulled them out of his jean pockets, revealing the dried blood coating them - obviously, the sheriff was in on everything considering his office was considered private, and he knew about werewolves, so he figured nothing bad could happen from revealing the blood to what once was a life-threatening injury.

"What happened?" Parrish questioned, a serious expression on his face. "And what brought you all the way out here?"

"I was on my way to New Rome, but I can't do long distance shadow jumps, and I was attacked by harpies during one of the breaks after accidentally jumping into their nest. I tried to complete the trip, but I was dizzy from blood loss and distracted by all the monsters trying to kill me. I ended up here in Beacon Hills instead. A bit of ambrosia fixed me up, but I still don't have the strength to jump to New Rome. Basically, I need a place to lay low, sleep, and eat for a day."

By the end of the explanation, both law enforcement officers eyebrows were nearly to the ceiling - New Rome? Harpies? Ambrosia? Shadow jumping? But they both figured definitions could wait, as they got the gist of what happened. "You can stay in the den," Parrish offered, causing the Sheriff's eyebrows to raise impossibly further. The deputy noticed, and told his boss, "I trust him. Nico's saved my life before, and the den is the safest place for him to be. The scent of the pack will cover his own scent, and he'll have all of us to defend him if trouble does come."

"The help is much appreciated," Nico told them both. "And while I have shaken off the harpies, if any other monsters cause trouble, I'll make sure you're compensated for any damage done to your… den." He hesitated on the last word, as it was strange for him to refer to a home of people as a home for wolves.

Parrish turned to Stilinski, questioning - as his boss, the Sheriff of Beacon Hills, the father of his alpha's right hand, and in all ways except blood the father of his alpha, the Sheriff outranked him in every way both human and pack. It was all well and good for Parrish to offer Nico sanctuary in the den, but for him to be taken there, it was the Sheriff's ultimate decision.

Sheriff Stilinski studied the teen, taking in everything - the way he held himself defensively and ready to flee, the blood still staining his hands and clothes, the white scars soon to disappear from his abdomen, the shadows under his eyes, which held too dark secrets for a boy his age. "Let's go," he ordered. "I can eat lunch at the den." Parrish grinned, Nico relaxed, and the Sheriff knew he'd made the right decision as he stood, leaving the salad abandoned on his desk.

Scott stood in his living room with all his were' betas around him. Liam, Hayden, and Malia sat together on a couch, their eyes closed in concentration. Derek stood stiffly to the left of Scott's armchair, while Stiles sat crisscross in another chair on his right. The three of them studied the others. It was close to the full moon, and for the first time ever, the youngest weres' would be staying together in the den, unchained, in the company of their human pack mates. Scott was convinced they were ready, as were Derek and Stiles, but the three themselves were difficult to convince, so they'd been gathered to go through exercises in an attempt to do so.

Scott opened his mouth, now that he thought they'd all found their anchors, to order them to release their claws and fangs, when the door opened and a strange scent of death and unfamiliar blood invaded the den. Immediately, all the weres' were on their feet and growling, eyes flashing and claws out, Scott at the head of a phalanx with his betas at his back. Stiles quickly followed, though he had no idea what had caused such a reaction.

"Scott?" the Sheriff called, heartbeat regular and smelling relaxed, which caused the weres' claws and fangs to retract as they relaxed slightly in turn - though the flashing eyes remained. "Parrish has brought home a stray for a day." The front door closed, and a few seconds later, the Sheriff and Parrish both appeared from the hall, a strange teenager - and the source of the unfamiliar smells - in-between them. "This is Nico," Stiles' dad told them. "He's the demigod Parrish keeps going on adventures with." At this, the glowing eyes faded - something the son of Hades was grateful for, as it had been very unnerving.

"You smell like death," Derek growled - and oh look, Nico realized, that unnerved feeling was back in the face of an untrusting werewolf.

"I'm a son of Hades," he told them. "My home is the Underworld, and I'm the Ghost King." Surprisingly, this caused the lumberjack werewolf to nod, relaxing.

Parrish told him, not bothering to whisper since all the weres' could hear him anyway, "You told the truth." This just made Nico even more confused, which he guessed showed even more on his face than the previous bout, as the deputy added, "They can hear your heartbeat." Ok, back to unnerved.

"Why are you here?" Scott questioned, serious - he trusted Parrish, but he also knew that if the demigod was looking to them for help, he could be bringing any amount of trouble with him.

"I just need a place to regain my energy before I continue on," Nico told him. "Food and sleep for a day, that's it."

Stiles asked, gesturing to the demigod's entire body, "And the blood? Should we be expecting unwelcome company?"

Nico shook his head, "No. This is old. Unless there are any monsters near here that pick up my scent, nobody should follow me."

Scott cocked his head to the side, studying someone he considered an ally after all he'd done for his beta, before turning to Derek - his advisor in all things werewolf - and raising an eyebrow in question. Receiving a shrug in response, which he interpreted as a 'it won't hurt, go right ahead', Scott stepped forward. Nico took a step back in response, and Stiles laughed, "Dude, he's not going to hurt you." The demigod glanced up at Parrish, who smiled reassuringly, and then moved back to where he'd been. The alpha advanced until he stood right in front of the son of Hades. Raising a hand, he pressed it to the top of Nico's head, continuing to apply pressure until the other teen realized what he wanted and - against every instinct screaming inside of him - bowed his head. Scott bowed his in turn, sticking his nose in Nico's hair and breathing in, at the same time passing his hands over the demigod's neck and swiping down his arms until he smelled thoroughly of McCall Pack. Smiling, Scott released him and stepped back.

Nico glanced up, looking around in confusion. "What just happened?"

Liam grinned, "Until Scott's scent fades from your skin, you're unofficially Pack. We can't smell any death on you anymore, which means those monsters can't either."

Nico stood in the doorway to the McCall Pack's den - which had, unexpectedly enough to him, been a regular-sized house that felt safe enough that he'd slept uninterrupted for almost an entire day. Now, though, it was time to leave. According to a smirking Malia - who wasn't a werewolf, he'd been told, but a werecoyote - he still smelled enough like Pack that he'd be safe from monsters until he arrived in New Rome. While most of the Pack had left for various reasons - school, jobs, etc. - Parrish had returned to see him off, Malia either didn't have anything to do or had decided to skip it, and Scott was the latest in a long line of unofficial guards. Nico didn't take offense to it as it made sense to him - it had been the same for Parrish, too, in his short time at Camp Half-Blood. The two of them trusted each other, and Camp and the Pack trusted them because of it, but they didn't completely trust that they wouldn't unwilling bring trouble - even after the strange ritual Nico had undergone.

"If any of you ever need help -" Nico started.

"We know, we know, contact either of your camps depending on which we're closest to," Malia interrupted. "You've only told us a billion times."

Scott gave her a stern look, but smiled, "It's the same for you. You're welcome at any time."

"And if you need immediate help, you can always summon me," Parrish said, half-joking and mostly serious.

Nico nodded. "Thank you again," he told them, and then turned and ran into the shadows.

I hope you enjoyed, and please review!