Once they were brothers.

They shared the roots of an Old empire that drifted through the ages, stemming from the hollows of proud thrones.

Once they fought side by side, warriors triumphant through a losing battle.

They were bound, together, by the blood of the ancient Gods.

The Romans were scrunched together in the SUV with a silent Reyna at the wheel. Everyone else was asleep and an old cassette (someone had spilled water into the radio and everyone had agreed that listening to music would've been a million times more preferable to hearing Octavian's mumbling) was making its rounds; it was a velveteen sounding song, like winter twilight.

Reyna drove to a stop and got out- she needed the loo- and as she shut the car door behind her, Dakota awoke. The black night with golden lamplights pooling on the windows reminded him of where they were and what they were doing, or about to do.

He pressed a finger experimentally to his bruising cheek and exhaled slowly, reaching into his backpack for his flask of Kool-Aid. It was slightly cold from the air-conditioning and Dakota leant back against the seat, twisting the cap open and taking a long chug.

Thirteen

When Dakota stumbled over a patch of long grass as he rushed over the Little Tiber, the first people he saw were a boy and a girl. The girl had pale sunshine hair and a shocked expression whilst the boy looked prepared and ready for battle, a coin spinning between his fingers. Dakota collapsed onto the ground.

He had had no idea what had happened to the monster behind him; he was pretty sure that he had killed it, or else hurt it pretty bloody bad. It was winter, the banks of the river frozen over in puffy white, while the snaking water crusted with ice looked like it was made of starlight.

The girl bent over him first, touching his shoulder with her fingertips. Her hair smelled of summer afternoons. "He doesn't seem to be wounded, Jason."

"I'm not," Dakota swallowed, clenching his eyes shut and opening them again. He was just a little shocked. "I just got clumsy, I'm fine."

"You're sure?" The girl asked worriedly and the boy hunched down next to him.

"Ah, he's fine, Gwen. Aren't you?" His forehead was creased in concern.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Dakota repeated, sitting up with their help. "Mother Lupa sent me, so you know…" He pulled out a tiny crystalline bottle from his shoulder bag, the amber liquid glinting in the frigid night. The other two stared suspiciously as he slugged down the drink.

"I'm Dakota, anyway." He said as they all stood up, the world aligning itself for him as the small burst of alcohol did its work. "This is Camp Jupiter, huh?" He could see glorious honey-lights lighting up majestic buildings.

"Sure is, soldier. Congratulations." The boy said- Dakota's eyebrows rose at the formality but he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. The girl beamed (she seemed to have a disposition that suited her hair) and nodded.

"I'm Gwen." She said and Dakota smiled politely in response; the trio began to walk into the city while two other purple-clad teenagers made their way out to guard the gates. Gwen and Dakota nodded at them.

"I'm Jason," the boy said, the scar on his lip stretching a little as he grinned, "Jason Grace." He extended a hand towards Dakota, who gripped it. Both boys had a strong, steady grip.

In the back of his mind, as he walked into his new home, Dakota saw Mother Lupa; her blue eyes shone with an ocean of wisdom, her teeth bared in a canine grin.

-oOo-

The next morning was a strange one for Dakota. Usually, he was unused to all of these rituals and ceremony but now here he stood, under a blazing sun, uncomfortable in his new set of armour, in front of a rather intimidating horde of bristling bronze.

The praetor- if he had caught the title properly- cast him a reassuring glance even as she pushed him forward. "No need to worry." She mumbled, but he felt odd under the glances of so many curious eyes.

"This," the praetor began, her authoritative voice silencing whatever murmurs still dared to raise their heads, "is our newest recruit, Dakota. Which legion will stand for him?"

"Does he have any letters of recommendation? Or anything at all, even?" A reedy voice piped up.

The praetor, a girl with soft corn-silk hair, shook her head; she glanced back at Dakota regretfully. He had no idea what was going on, really, but he just didn't want to be in the spotlight anymore.

Snickers from some of the first and second cohorts ran through the assembled throng. Dakota bit down a flash of anger and embarrassment.

"But of course." The reedy voice said smugly. The praetor opened her mouth to speak but a familiar voice interrupted her.

"We'll take him!" The voice said- it was the kind that attempted to be authoritative but had a little trouble with that-, breaking through the crowd. "The fifth cohort will stand for him!"

Dakota felt instantaneous relief, but that was quickly engulfed by the same people snidely laughing once again. The praetor banged her shield on the ground for silence and it came. She gestured Dakota towards the direction of the fifth cohort and he went gratefully, wanting to be out of the limelight as quickly as possible. A little bottle in his pocket was keeping him steady.

Once he reached the slightly sad line that held the Fifth, he fell in line- Jason and Gwen moved to give him space.

"Thanks, man." He mumbled to Jason.

The boy shrugged. "No problem."

The praetor had disbanded the legion and everyone was going their separate ways. Sighing with relief at the end of his ordeal, Dakota asked Jason. "So what's all this cohort business about anyway? And why does everyone hate the Fifth so much?"

Gwen and Jason exchanged knowing glances, which irked him slightly.

"They don't hate us." Gwen said tentatively but Jason waved a hand.

"They just see us as misfits, is all."

Dakota grimaced. "So I'm guessing there's no escape now, is there?" he joked and Jason grinned.

"Guess you're stuck with us."

Dakota smirked. "Guess I am."

-oOo-

After a week, Dakota was pretty much used to the routine (which he thought was a word invented purely for the Romans) of Camp Jupiter. He had to sneak in his drinks, since alcohol was prohibited for minors, but apart from that, everything was good.

As he was heading back to his bunk after breakfast- he'd taken a rather long time since they'd been serving his favourite food- he heard a scuffle behind one of the storehouses. Frowning, he went to investigate.

What he saw was a bunch of the kids who had been snickering at him that day, about five or six of them, beating up Jason. They were all at least two years older than him. The son of Jupiter was being tossed around like a rubber ball in a playpen of over-excited children.

"What the hell?" Dakota shouted as he rushed forwards to aid his friend.

Jason shook his head, his right eye beginning to bruise. "I can handle this!"

"Bullshit!" One of the kids snarled as he aimed a fist to Jason's stomach, the boy fell towards the ground, doubling over. "Fucking Fifth-Cohort no good little bitch!"

Fuelled with anger, Dakota dashed forward, aiming at the boy's stomach as well. The boy would've ducked, but he was caught by both surprise and the strength of Dakota's punch. He fell back against two of his friends, causing them to stumble. Taking advantage of the momentary confusion, Jason surged back up and joined Dakota who was swinging through the group with remarkable frenzy.

Just as it seemed that the two of them were going to lose, the praetor turned around the corner, her face stormy. The fight stopped abruptly as she glared at them. The older boys seemed oddly ashamed.

"Gods, Darren." The praetor narrowed her eyes, "Beating up the new kid is a bit low, even for you."

Dakota staggered upwards as did Jason. The boy named Darren blushed and one of his friends nudged him.

"Get lost." The praetor told them in disgust and they stalked off, casting leftover glares at Jason and Dakota, who wiped a trickle of blood off his chin.

Once they left, the praetor looked at them with concern, "You okay?"

"Sure." Dakota said and Jason nodded, embarrassed. She sighed and walked off, leaving the two alone.

"What was that about?" Dakota asked to break the awkward silence.

Jason shrugged, "Just them giving me crap for being from Fifth."

Dakota frowned. "But your dad is like, Jupiter, right? Doesn't that give you any credit or anything?"

Jason laughed bitterly. "No one really gives a damn about your godly parent unless you prove your worth, Dakota."

"I still don't see what the problem is; blast them with like, lightning powers or something."

"I would've, but I'm not that good. I'd stand a chance if it was one-on-one, I guess; but you saw, fair combat isn't really what they planned. Besides, if it's a fist-fight, I'm not really good at that either." It seemed to be physically hurting Jason to admit that he was bad at something; his voice was strained, ashamed.

After a short silence, he continued. "You'd have been able to win though, I think, if it had been one on one."

"Yeah, well, my stepfather used to teach wrestling. He taught me a little bit."

Jason bit his lip, glancing into the clear sky. "Think you could teach me?" He mumbled.

"Why not?" Dakota asked. Jason looked a little better despite his puffy eye and cut lip. "After all," he finished somewhat smugly, but also lightly, "Your technique is absolute shit."

Fourteen

Dakota was not a happy camper.

It had been one week since Gwen and Jason made him promise to keep away from alcohol- apparently; they had had enough of his "addiction" after a year and wanted him to "get better" because they cared, apparently. And while Dakota appreciated the sentiment- he really, genuinely did- it was just hard.

The worst part was that he had promised to try and now here he was, slumped against the wall of the building, drowning in self-pity and annoyance. He was tired of waiting. It was too hot, the sun too evil and arrogant as it breathed down upon them, for this.

Presently, one of the older campers walked towards him and dropped a paper bag onto his lap. Dakota grinned- finally- and tossed the boy some denarii. Clutching the bag, he scuttled towards an empty corner-

And bumped into Jason.

From the sweat that drenched his purple shirt and neck, Dakota gathered the boy had just been training (With Reyna probably, Dakota would try to remember to make fun of him for that later).

"What's that?" Jason pointed at the paper bag. Dakota laughed unconvincingly.

"Food; like, pastries and stuff."

"Doesn't look like pastries to me."

Dakota groaned inwardly. "Well, it is."

Jason looked at him suspiciously. "No… It's not."

Dakota sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. "Fine, St. Jason of bloody Grace. It's my usual." Done with everything, he pulled the brown bottle out.

"Aw, c'mon, you promised!"

"It's been a week, I'm dying!"

"You promised." Jason repeated, folding his arms over his chest. Dakota glared at him. "You don't care that you promised me? Fine. But you promised Gwen."

"Don't even try playing the guilt card with me, Grace. I have no soul."

"Oh, this is about your soul. Gwen will kick your ass all the way to Pluto. You think she's this sweet soul-"

"I really don't…"

"She will murder you."

Dakota snickered and Jason grabbed the bottle from him. Dakota made to grab it, but Jason was stronger now. He'd grown taller as well, which was very good for him and everything, but not for Dakota. The bottle slipped to the floor, the glass smashing against the crumbling earth and staining the soil a deep brown.

"Look what you've done!" Dakota moaned. "Screw it, Jason!"

To his credit, Jason looked a little bit apologetic but he was staunch. "It's just as well, Dakota." He slugged the sullen boy in the arm. "C'mon, I'm pretty sure I've got some Kool-Aid back at the bunks."

Dakota rolled his eyes but walked along with him. It was better than nothing.

In a while, he wouldn't even need his wine anymore.

Fifteen

If it was one thing everyone had agreed to, it was that the Fifth cohort was going to screw up this mission. No one really wanted them to embark on it, but Octavian had unwillingly told them that it was written in the stuffing.

And worse, this was a naval mission. The Romans didn't have much of a navy, or any boat, really, but some of the retired legionnaires- one of who was living rather comfortably in Cape Cod in a very avant-garde glass house or whatever the fine-living monthlies called it- had donated enough for them to get a yacht. It wasn't anything on the big side, but it was sleek and new and they guessed it would have to do.

Most of the cohort was there, all of them rather uneasy to be on the sea. It was the icy Atlantic, not that far off the coast, but still, it was the sea. None of them trusted the choppy ocean as it slipped up the edges of the yacht, pristine and clear. They didn't like the tinge of salty sea-air that settled and crusted in their eyelashes, or the feeling of being alone in the vast, eternal blue.

But a certain monster had been terrorising the locals of the bay, and someone had to do something about it. The crowd at send-off had been less than encouraging. Most of them had jeered and quite a few had been busy informing them of the foods that they would be bringing to their funerals. Dakota was pissed off to the point that he couldn't care less anymore, but Jason seemed to be taking the criticism very hard; he had hardly said a word to anyone else on the trip out. He'd even shouted at Gwen, which was something that he never did and Dakota had shouted back at him for that.

Now, Jason was walking unsteadily towards them, his sea-legs not quite in control yet. The rocking motion of the yacht, soothing to most, was making them all feel queasy.

Jason looked at Gwen, who was seated next to Dakota, leaning against the walls. "I just wanted to apologise," he said briskly, in a way that made them see that he meant it. "I don't know what got over me, just pissed off I guess."

"It's okay." Gwen said easily, the matter already forgotten in her mind. Dakota shrugged, he was tired of being mad, anyway, and Jason really was sorry.

"I was just so damn pissed off at the bastards back in First, you know?" Jason said, sitting down next to them. "They never think we can do anything, but I know you guys, you could take them any day."

"I could." Dakota agreed, swirling his flask of Kool-Aid; it was a rather sappy one, but Gwen had bought it for him, so. Jason burst into a grin.

"Whatever, we'll just show them-"

"Hey, guys!" The voice of one of their other cohort members echoed off the stern of the yacht and they all stood up urgently, rushing towards where most of the cohort was gathered, the briny wind blowing their hair back; the various colours streamed in the wind like pennants.

"Holy shit." Dakota muttered as he saw what everyone was staring at. Rising from the sea, its slimy scales matted with bits of sea-weed and bones of only the Gods knew what, was what looked like a huge sea serpent.

Dragon-like in make, it towered over them, its mouth huge and gaping, the teeth glinting and needle-sharp. Its eyes were cold and hollow.

The Romans weren't fans of the bow and arrow, but it seemed like the only logical choice in a situation like this. The Fifth cohort grabbed the weapons they'd brought along with them and aimed it at the beast, which was lunging down towards them.

"Dakota!" Jason yelled, his face slick with the sea-water the monster was spraying all over them as it roared- a deep, scratching sound that pounded its rhythm into their skulls, filling them with primal fear- "I'm going to go for its eyes!"

"How in Pluto's name-" Jason had already grabbed onto a hunk of scales drifting off the monster's jaws and was yanking his way up as the cohort continued to fire at the beast. It writhed in the air, so huge that it blocked out the rays of sun. Jason had scrambled up to the monster's head, slipping on the scales. He was balancing precariously and Dakota knew he would not be able to make it on his own.

Biting down his fear, he waited at the edge for Ketos to swoop down again- several swords were plunged into its neck and it splayed back, roaring in pain- and he grabbed the same slice of scales that Jason had, his brain pounding as he pulled himself up, taking care not to slip.

"Nice view up here!" He yelled as he scuttled onto the monster's head, holding its slightly jutting horns as he moved his way forward.

"What are you doing here?" Jason shouted back, metres away from the beast' s eye.

"Just admiring the view! It's all pretty and shit!"

Jason smirked and lifted his blade, bringing it down with full force onto Ketos's eye. Dakota winced, grabbing on for dear life as the beast threw her head back. Below them, the Fifth was continuing to give the battle their all and they were not backing down; no matter what the cohorts had to say about them, they were fighting not just for glory, but to protect each other. As Ketos lunged forwards, Dakota found himself rolling forwards until he was just across from the remaining eye.

"Stab it!" Jason yelled.

"Gods, really?" Dakota drew his own blade back and plunged. This roar sent both him and Jason falling hard onto decks. The beast was thrashing wildly around and the Fifth was taking advantage of this to target its neck, working their way down. Dakota briefly wondered what some mortals out for a cruise would've seen. He realised he was bleeding and he turned to pull Jason- who was next to him- up, his arm at an awkward angle. Good thing too, because Ketos had fallen onto decks, sending up splits of wood and paint flying around them where Dakota had lain just seconds ago.

They leaped onto the monster and after several minutes- or maybe hours, who could tell- of the beast writhing and snapping and all of them trying their hardest to plunge their weapons into its skin; it gave one last mournful cry and died, shuddering.

The cohort looked around at each other for a few minutes, disbelieving. Ketos gave a series of twitches before she finally, truly, expelled. Hesitant seconds later, they were all cheering, grabbing at one another in triumph and relief. Dakota leaned in to hug Gwen, and fist-bumped Jason, who was congratulating everyone.

They had actually done it.

When the Fifth cohort returned, albeit a little worse for wear, everyone was shocked at their victory. But then a feast was put up in their honour, and they were put on more quests; eager to prove themselves, they managed to succeed slowly but surely, regaining the honour that had been lost when Michael Varus had his team had lost the eagle back in Alaska.

There were no more snide looks and suppressed grins from the rest anymore. The Fifth had risen to be on par with the rest of the legion, and they were proud.

-oOo-

At the same time however, things were looking bleaker for the rest of the world. The old powers- ancient demons that preceded even the Olympians- were rising again. Krios had gained his army and people were dying every day. "Natural disasters" had begun to pop up around the country, and though the mortals had it pegged down to nothing more than bad weather, New Rome knew better.

The legion was preparing itself for war. It didn't seem real at first until the praetor with corn-silk hair, Mavis Bridges, was captured while on a scouting mission and killed, her body sent back by the enemy as a warning. The council had quickly enacted a new praetor after the funeral rites were held, Jason's close friend, the obsidian haired Reyna. But this was just one of the many deaths to come.

Each day the training got more and more intense as the earth crumbled even more; on Mount Tam, amongst the harsh black rock, the old ruins were being rebuilt.

Dakota would have been lying if he said he wasn't scared.

He found himself having less and less time to be a sarcastic little bastard, spending more time throwing his weight around and reassuring the younger kids. Then again, it seemed everyone was more serious nowadays.

He, Jason and Gwen went on more scouting missions together. Back at Camp, they trained the junior campers who young and unprepared for battle.

One night, before the big fight, with the stars in the sky blessing the city with the protection of the moon Goddess, Dakota caught Jason standing outside by the gates.

"What in Pluto's name are you doing?" He asked.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Jason asked wearily.

Dakota shrugged, "Gwen told me to come look for you."

Jason stared out into the night, the forest cold and dark. Overhead, the moon was yellow and bloated. The River Tiber glowed with the lights from the city.

"Are we ready?" Jason asked and Dakota jolted himself back to reality, pulling his flask out and taking sips. "Half of us are going to die up there, Dakota." The boy knew what it must be costing the reserved Jason to tell him this.

"Yeah, I figured." He replied, settling down on the cool soil next to Jason. He picked up pieces of rock and let them skitter over the calm river, the ripples distorting the reflections of the trees with milky laziness. "But you know, duty and honour and all of that."

Jason nodded- almost to himself- "You're right. But still… Pluto, we have to do it anyway. Screw it, I want to do it. I want Krios to pay for all the suffering he's caused. I want this to end."

"It will." Dakota nodded, "One way or another."

Jason shook his head to clear it and stood up. "I'll be going back in." He said and Dakota nodded. "I'll tell Gwen-"

"I'll tell Gwen." Dakota smirked and Jason rolled his eyes and went back in.

Dakota stared out into the dark. He was a speck, in the grand scheme of things, tinier than the stars, which in other universes burned brightly as suns. He was feeling very small.

-oOo-

"That's for Mavis, bastard!" Darren shouted as he brought down a monster, his imperial Gold sword slicing cleanly through its neck. A sword that shuttled suddenly out of his chest brought him slamming to the ground, his eyes vacant. Dakota fought the violent urge to be sick. All around him, the battle was raging, the violent sounds ripping through the peaceful night.

Towards his right, the rest of his cohort was slumming on. Reyna was galloping through the air on Skippy, targeting the enemy from up high. Gwen was beside him, swinging her sword as she cut through the enemy; Jason was leading the troops.

Dakota was tired, he was hurting, his friends were dying, but he pressed on because that was they had to do. He could tell the battle would be ending very soon, but for the moment, it seemed endless.

"Watch it!" An enemy demigod fell next to him and it was Jason who had gunned him down.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dakota asked groggily.

"Admiring the view." Jason shook his head as he turned around to continue the battle. Dakota took a deep breath and shunted forwards, pressing through the crowd.

-oOo-

At the end of it all, there was silence. Just silence as Krios fell by Jason's hand, as his armies surrendered to the children of Rome.

Then, there was the music. The banging of the shields against the ground. The mournful yet hopeful sound of terrible sacrifice paid, but a battle won.

The Fifth cohort stood together- or what was left of them- as they paid their respects to their friends who hadn't made it through the night. They stood, heads bowed, as the smoke filled the air like spirits rushing to somewhere better, they hoped.

Hell, they knew.

Sixteen

When Jason disappeared, no one was prepared. It was Gwen, the earliest riser, who had found out. They had searched all over for him, combing the city with urgency. He was nowhere to be found.

Dakota and Gwen had talked hurriedly, worriedly, wondering what had happened to their best friend.

They volunteered time and time again for the search parties, scouring the country with heavy yet hopeful hearts and weary, sunken eyes.

Jason Grace was nowhere to be found.

-oOo-

When Percy Jackson was put before the legion, the sad wait for the cohort to take him met with silence, it was Gwen and Dakota who exchanged a look before they knew what they had to do.

They allowed Percy to join the Fifth, Dakota fiercely reminded of something similar that had happened- except then it had been him, then- years ago.

-oOo-

Being centurion was tough. Being responsible was hell. But he had Gwen to help him and he knew he couldn't fail the Fifth cohort.

He would not fail the Fifth cohort.

-oOo-

The taunting had begun again; it seemed that Jason was the only reason why it ever stopped. They had just survived one war and were going to be plunged into another one. His best friend was still missing.

It was taking all over Dakota's willpower not to go back to the bottle.

But he had promised.

-oOo-

Then they heard that Jason was returning. The Fifth had just about exploded with happiness- screw that, the dying flame of Camp Jupiter seemed to be restored. Dakota and Gwen had organised a surprise party- even though it would probably be lacking in the surprise- for the return of their praetor, for their friend.

Dakota had wanted to include indoor fireworks.

Gwen had been highly suspicious and the idea was vetoed.

But still they had planned a variety of things, even taking in all manner of food and decorations to plague Jason with. They were planning to invite Reyna as well. The mood was so exuberant, so overjoyed, that the sky seemed to shine with them.

Dakota stood eagerly with the rest of the centurions as the Argo II descended.

He would never admit it, but he missed his idiot friend.

-oOo-

He had not expected this. He had not expected Jason to go around the city with that Greek girl- the one with the hair that sliced the air- instead of talking to his friends who had been worried sick about him, who had spent nights and days ploughing through the country for him, he had not expected them to be fighting against Jason as he stood telling his people not to fire, not to retaliate to the betrayal of the Greeks.

As the Argo II had exploded into the city, destroying his home and Jason had done nothing to help his people, nothing at all. For the Gods' sake, he hadn't even bothered to exchange more than ten words with them and now he was siding with the enemy? How in Pluto's name had this happened?

The fucking nerve. Of course, Dakota and Gwen had to stand beside their people as Rome burned around them (Just like Nero fiddling, centuries ago) and Jason did nothing, nothing to aid them. Instead he stood beside the Greeks, with them!

But despite how bloody pissed Dakota was at that moment, when that brick knocked Jason out and he was pulled up to the ship as the Argo II left, he was concerned.

That bastard was still his best mate.

-oOo-

Then Charleston happened, and they had descended from the eagles with those ridiculous wax bits in their ears as the sun screamed for war down their backs.

For one moment, Dakota had locked eyes with Hazel. In them he saw fear, defiance and regret. In his eyes, she had probably seen the same thing. He had drawn his sword, facing those Greeks. He told himself to remember New Rome burning from the explosives, he told himself to remember how these people had betrayed their hospitality.

He knew he would be fighting Hazel and later on Frank, but he told himself that they betrayed their people. They were the traitors. He had his people to protect. He refused to think about the other one.

Before he knew what was happening, Dakota had been engulfed in water, horrible water that tugged him down with her siren call and he thrashed wildly, vividly reminded of Ketos and the Atlantic even as Octavian had hung on to him, pulling him down with him. It was pure panic as he bobbed along, the cool water rising above his head as his lungs continued to swell to the bursting. But they had made it- they made it up, back to land and he sputtered gratefully, clutching his ribs which were pounding with a pain that was shaking his very bones.

He took a minute to gather himself before staggering up and rushing to where the battle was taking place, the air swimming with purple slicing against orange, and orange slashing against purple.

Tourists stood idly by the battle- "Such amazing skill- how utterly realistic, isn't this re-enactment?"- and he pushed past them in his hurry to aid his friends. He could hear the clash of the imperial gold against celestial bronze and holy shit- was that an elephant?

He slid through the chaos, whacking at bits of orange with fear in his throat and a dread in his chest; sure enough, when he spun around, it was Jason he was facing.

The two of them stared at each other for a brief moment. Dakota caught a clear look at Jason's eyes and for a terrible moment, he didn't know what he was looking at. Was this really the boy who had let him into his cohort? Was this really the boy who he had taught his stepfather's tricks to, the one who he had fought Ketos with over the Atlantic?

Because Dakota didn't know if this was same Jason who he had stood side by side with in the Titan war as they fought to protect their friends.

Then the thinking was over, the swords began to swirl in the ancient dance of ritualistic battle. There were no words, just pressed lips and swinging metal as the two glared at each other.

He sure as hell wished he was fighting anybody, anybody except what his best fucking friend.

Dakota thought he saw regret in Jason's eyes for a fleeting second.

"Sorry about this, Dakota!" Then Jason vaulted- well he sure as Pluto didn't know that trick when Dakota first appeared at camp- and the next thing he knew, there was a blinding pain in the back of his skull and crumpled to the ground, embracing darkness.

Dakota pressed the cover down on the flask again (yes, the one Gwen gave him). He saw a shadow approach, Reyna was returning. Pushing open the door, he got out into the cool and misty night.

"You're awake?" Reyna asked, purple half-moon smudges staining the area under her eyes. Dakota knew she was tired; for months she'd been the sole praetor, waiting for Jason to return. She had just led Camp Jupiter through a battle. Jason had been her close friend as well and then he'd gone off with those Greeks, just like that. Now even Percy was gone, and Reyna was alone.

"Just woke up." He muttered. "Listen, why don't I drive?"

Reyna frowned, stifling a yawn. "I don't think you're up to it, I mean Jas- you got hit pretty bad."

"I'm fine. You've been driving for hours. We'll take it in shifts." He paused. "Except maybe Octavian shouldn't be allowed behind the wheel."

He could sense her indecision but she was so tired so she agreed and got into the backseat while he buckled himself into the front, exchanging the crisp late night fresh air for the pine scented air-conditioning.

He turned on the engine, took a breath, and sped off into the night.

Once there were friends, who had fought side by side; who had watched their friends die protecting what they loved.

They had been brothers, once.