It's sort of disappointing that most people don't consider Castor or Pollux's characters, they are standing in for a pretty fantastic myth that is all about loss and brotherly love. Not enough fics of them though. This is a small attempt to try to remedy the situation.

Warning: some language and alcohol consumption throughout.

It was ten-thirty and the Apollo cabin were the only ones singing around the magenta campfire, and Pollux trudged back up the steps of Cabin 12 to try to get the latest mangled pop-song out of his head. No chance of sleep tonight, and he had archery in the morning. Archery was his worst class, his aim was awful and his ADHD (battle-reflexes... whatever) never helped when he was called to focus, to visualize his next shot being a bulls-eye. This called for a nightcap.

Recently a lot of things had him calling for a nightcap. He kept telling himself he had more and more reasons why he couldn't sleep. The new cabin was new, and the walls and pipes creaked. However nice the vines on the outside walls seemed to be, they weren't very practical for the people sleeping on the inside. A night breeze had thin, leafy tendrils knock, brush, sometimes scrap or bang against the windows. On the especially spooky nights, the leaves and the small budding bundles of grapes made Pollux think of alien abductions.

Wasn't that a riot? He fought actual monsters and all it took was a couple scary movies to have him worried about alien probes and flying saucers. What bullshit...

Maybe it was how the cabin was larger, instead of just unfamiliar? He did have a few more brothers and sisters.

Well, he had a few more half-brothers and sisters. Not like he blamed them either, they didn't ask to be born and holding a grudge against people for just having the same dad as him, that was just too... Hera-esque? Hera-like?

Whatever. One downside, the cabin was bigger and the extra spaced needed some adjusting to. There were girls too, two new sisters. Pollux couldn't get used to the idea of the cabin smelling like lipgloss or conditioner or... cinnamon incense.

Honestly, incense. Apparently Candice was big on meditation and yoga, her mother had been something of a heath-freak. She was still out, thank the gods, probably making bad decisions with some of the Apollo campers.

Candice was fifteen, and while she had been on the Titan's side during the war Pollux couldn't blame her for anything. She had been found by monsters under Luke's command before a satyr could bring her to Camp, and she wasn't anywhere near the battles. She had been put to work with some other untrained demigods making armor and sewing standards, cloaks, and clothing for Kronos' army.

Still, she was just so embarrassing.

It wasn't just that she dressed weird, or that she was a complete flake, or that she had more drama than five-seasons worth of soap-opera, it was how she lectured him. Pollux knew he shouldn't take it personally though. She patronized everyone.

The worst was with the only other girl in the cabin, Suzy, age eleven, and officially too young to actually be at Camp. But her mom was undergoing chemotherapy and she didn't have any other family to take her in, so she was here early. And Candice had the nerve to tell her to "look on the bright side".

Look on the bright side.

Seriously.

But again, she said that to everyone. Never mind what they were actually going through, they just needed to see the glass as half-full instead of half-empty.

So really, Pollux wasn't supposed to focus on how he lost his brother, his twin brother, his real brother, he was supposed to be grateful that now he got the chance to meet three new half-siblings.

... at least he didn't have a cyclops for a brother. He didn't (really, he didn't) make fun of Percy when Tyson was claimed, but it did seem pretty funny in a twisted sort of way. He never had to share a cabin with anyone other than Castor before, to share a room with anyone other than Castor before, and now he was with a bunch of kids who were close to his age and his dad was supposed to be one of the Olympians who was faithful to his wife-!

What did that matter though? Dad was stuck here because he chased after the wrong nymph, of course he slept around like all the other Olympians.

'Look on the bright side', Pollux thought snidely, 'at least that means you have something in common with everyone else here-'

"Pollux?"

Crap. "Hey Suzy."

"How was Campfire?"

"You didn't miss out on much, really," Pollux assured his younger sister. Half-sister. "Just a few more songs... one of the Eris kids put fire-crackers in the marshmallows."

"They're dicks, aren't they?"

"Whoa whoa! Don't... come on Suzy, language."

"It's true though."

Pollux had to admit it was, it really was. "Who taught you words like that?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah I'm serious."

"Television, internet, Ares cabin, you-"

"Alright," he held up his hands in surrender, "you made your point."

"'course I did." Suzy smirked.

"Which Ares kids curse in front of you again?" Pollux asked, deceptively calm.

"Do you really need to ask?" Leaning back in bed, Suzy relented. "Mark and Sherman. And Clarisse, sometimes. And-"

"Nevermind," Hate hate hate those assholes. The half-brothers especially were terrors that Clarisse herself barely kept in line. If she bothered, anyway. No, Clarisse was a firm believer in the Ares principles of what tried to kill you just made you stronger. Also, trying to kill also made you stronger.

Yeah, Ares' cabin was big on vicious cycles, just like Clarisse was big on overhyping all those rowdy cowards. She had tried to pull them when the war was at it's worst, claiming the Ares cabin wasn't getting enough respect? That they had sacrificed the most? And over a chariot? Pollux never pointed out that half the Dionysus children had lost their lives fighting.

So what if 'half' meant only one? No one could tell him that meant any less, especially when it should've been one of those assholes who did nothing but fight, who contributed nothing. Mark and Sherman may be joined at the hip but they weren't even full-brothers, they just clicked with shared traits like sadism and cowardice and it should've been one of them-

"'lux?"

Great. Now Suzy was worried about him again. This was such bullshit, he couldn't explain this to here. He wouldn't explain this to her. He didn't ask to be saddled with more half-brothers and sisters, especially sisters, this was bullshit and that nightcap was calling for him.

"I'm tired Suzy. I'm going to bed." Away from where she might ask what he was thinking about or any other questions that would... would... Pollux didn't want her to get worried or suspicious.

The noise Suzy made was similar to a puppy worrying at a traveling bag. "... straight to sleep?"

"Maybe," that was a lie, "that's the fastest way to the bed, isn't it?"

"I just don't think you should get dad mad."

Right. Dad could get mad. The Stolls get away with murder, Percy Jackson skips off on whatever quest he thinks need his finger prints on it, and the Ares cabin gets to be dicks to everyone.

Suzy wouldn't like to know that Dad was the one who gave him his first bottle of booze, would she? Just because he couldn't violate his probation didn't mean that he couldn't give his son some wine for sorrow. What was the poem? Two for sorrow, three for joy-?

"Good night Suzy." One good thing about having girls in the cabin now? Privacy curtains. It wasn't supposed to be possible to slam one of those, but Pollux managed to get the point across.

Four for silver, five for gold? No, two for sorrow, three for joy, four for... girl, five for boy?

Under his bed in a trunk he kept the bottle and the glass. Strawberry wine was very sweet, slid down easier than lemonade.

It had to be five for boy, the next one was six silver, seven for gold...

Well practiced grip and the cork came loose, Pollux grunted to muffle the tell-tale pop.

Six for silver, seven for gold, eight for a secret never to be told? No, it had to be nine, nine was the number that finished the rhyme... nine, rhyme...

He didn't need this right now. Who cared about blackbirds and nursery rhymes?

The bottle felt lighter, and in a brief moment of paranoia Pollux wondered if someone had been through his things. The Stolls would definitely try to go through his stuff if they thought there was something forbidden and you didn't get more forbidden than having wine at summer-camp. Those clowns weren't even twins... people thought they were though, and that pissed Pollux off more than Percy and Tyson, or Mark and Sherman.

And all of that still didn't piss him off half as much as that dumb hippie Candice with her stupid optimism and granola girl recycled advice; look on the bright side, be grateful for what you have, the glass is half-full, not half-empty...

It was bullshit.

Pollux poured in silence, paused.

There. The glass was half-filled.

He poured again until it was to the brim, drank. Paused again.

And now it was half-emptied.

That's how you measured things. Candice ("Candy to my friends!") didn't know a damn thing about...

"People making fun of your name again?"

"...y-yeah..."

"Don't let them get to you, we're named after heroes."

"Are we heroes though?"

"Of course we are, the mighty slayers of strawberry fields!"

"... 'Strawberry fields forever-'"

"Last time I try to cheer you up, jerk."

"What? It's a good song-"

"Shut up."

Glass was filled again, hands trembled.

"So Percy has a brother now?"

"Yup, Cyclops."

"mhmm. You know what?"

"What?"

"Big guy like that..."

"Yeah, so what?"

"Probably snores just like you-"

"Oh shut up!"

Wine went down smooth.

"Assholes! ... you okay?"

"They're such idiots..."

"You can say that again."

"They're such idiots-"

"I know! You'd think they'd learn-"

"What? Because our dad's in charge of Camp? He doesn't lift a finger Castor-"

"You'd think they'd learn I've always got your back."

"... yeah, that's true."

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Dammit... gods dammit...

"Cover the left flank!"

"What?!"

"I got right, you got left!"

"Are you crazy! We need to stick together!"

"We need to keep them out of Camp!"

"But they have giants!"

"Doesn't how big they are! Biggest guy in the world will go down if you break his knee!"

"Are you seriously quoting 'Road House' right now?!"

"It's a viable strategy!"

"Patrick Swayze is NOT who you should be taking monster-slaying tips from!"

"You listen to your heroes I'll listen to mine!"

"Fine! But go for the balls, not just the knees!"

"Deal!"

"Got my back?!"

Filled, emptied, rinse and repeat.

If the glass was half-empty or half-full, it was still just half.

Castor grinned for the last time, clanged cestus against his shield.

To this day Pollux never really got why he decided to fight with metal boxing gloves instead of a spear or sword.

"I've always got your back!"

Fin.

Well this was slightly more depressing than my usual fare, but felt it needed to be written.

Hope you enjoyed, please leave a review.