Will POV

My boyfriend can be really annoying sometimes. Why the heck would he shadow travel when he has a huge metal weapon in his shoulder?! Gods, he is stubborn. Obviously, we didn't have much of a choice. I realize that. It was either get out of there or die. But the problem is, now we are out of there, we still might die!

Nico shadow travelled us to a room I don't recognize. A wooden floor, two beds, and a mirror. Probably someone's bedroom, which isn't good. I can see that both beds have been slept in, and there is clothing all over the floor. Boy's clothing by the looks of it.

I take a second to look around, gathering a couple of t-shirts to use as bandages for Nico. Normally I wouldn't steal from people, but I don't have a choice. My T-shirt is already pressed against Nico's shoulder, but it's soaked in blood, and the scythe is still wedged next to Nico's shoulder blade.

I quickly rip up more bandages and tie them around his shoulder as best as I can without moving the blade. I'm going to have to take it out before I can heal him. Poor Nico. He's been through too much already, and now he's hurt, unconscious, and in some random place with only me to protect him. And, well, fighting isn't exactly my thing.

"If you die, I'll kill you, you hear me, Neeks?" I whisper as I put a hand on his wound. I can tell the wound is deep. Very deep. His bone and muscles are intact, thank the gods, but it's still not good. Darn it, Nico. Please stay alive.

I chant in ancient Greek, using the most effective healing blessing I can think of. Before I say the last word, I pull the scythe out. Due to the curve of the blade, it's hard to get it out without injuring Nico further, but I manage. After all, I'm the son of the healing god. Thank the gods I am too, or Nico would be in even more trouble than he already is.

Anyway, I take out the blade, trying to make sure my hands are steady – it's not easy seeing your boyfriend bleeding out in front of you – and I say the last word of the blessing. Nico screams in pain, and my heart pangs for him. Please, Dad, Zeus, every Greek god out there, please make sure he's ok. Also, the house we are in is empty. Because if it isn't, the occupants surely heard that scream.

His screaming stops after a second or two, and he drifts back into unconsciousness. I work quickly, wrapping more bandages around his shoulder and mumbling more healing prayers. The bleeding hasn't stopped yet, which isn't good. If only I had my healing supplies. I came straight from the campfire to Nico, so I don't have anything with me. Not even ambrosia or nectar. Or duct tape. Or even band-aids! This isn't good, but I will heal him. I have to.

I hear a commotion somewhere below me, and the sound of people rushing up some stairs. Uh Oh. Please don't be monsters. I turn towards the door – which looks very old – and try to shield Nico as best I can. If it is monsters, maybe they will kill me and leave Nico. At least he would survive. Maybe. He is still in danger of bleeding out.

The door slams open, and two men stand in the doorway. The first is a gaunt-looking man that looks like he's been in prison for his whole life. His hair is long and choppy, and he is tall and lanky. His eyes look almost shattered. He has been through an ordeal, obviously. His eyes remind me of Nico's after Tartarus, broken and pained.

The second man is taller than the first, wearing a ragged... robe? Dress? Bathrobe? I'm going to say robe. His face is also quite lean, and he has greyish hair and scars on his face. Yikes, that must have hurt.

The weird thing about them isn't the robes or the messy appearances, it's the fact that they are pointing sticks at me. Okay, then. Do the sticks turn into weapons, sort of like Percy's pen? I don't understand.

"Who are you?" The taller one asks in a steady British voice. Are we in England?

"I'm sorry," I say, trying my best to smile. "I don't mean to intrude. I'm Will." I hold my hands up in surrender, which maybe wasn't the best idea because their eyes widen at the blood on my hands and focus on Nico. Uh Oh.

"He's hurt and dying. I need supplies." I say quickly. My priority is helping Nico. At the moment, I don't care if they are monsters. I need medical... anything. Gauze, a sewing kit, band-aids, duct tape, rubbing alcohol, anything. Hopefully, all of those things.

The two men look dumbfounded for a moment, eyes switching from me to Nico. They seem to be reluctant to help. Why, though? Perhaps they are monsters. Or have a lot of enemies. But I don't really think I look very scary. Nico is debatable, but he is also covered in blood. Although, so am I.

"Please," I say, locking eyes with them. "The only one in danger here is him," I say, gesturing to Nico. At least, I hope it's true. I'd rather not die by the hands (or possibly sticks?) of two random guys. The scar guy sighs and turns to the other one.

"Go, I'll watch them." The prison guy nods and leaves the room. At least they are helping. If they were monsters, they would've attacked. With a wary glance at Scar guy, I turn back to Nico.

Scar guy walks over to me and sits on the bed. The stick is still in his hand. He seems to be studying me and Nico, but I ignore his stares. I need to keep helping Nico. I grab the remains of my shirt and rip it into strips. I need to change the bandages, but Nico's jacket and t-shirt are making it difficult. I glance at Scar guy, but he is sitting in the same spot, watching me with interest. I turn my attention back to Nico.

I find a dagger hidden in Nico's boot (thanks Neeks) and cut off his shirt. I wince at the scars that litter his chest and cover them up with another shirt before Scar guy can see. I look around the room and see a glass of water on a nightstand. Perhaps not the most sanitary of options, but I can still use it to clean up the wound until I can get something better.

"Could you hand me that?" I ask, pointing to the glass. The man silently hands it to me. I take off the bandages on Nico's shoulder and dip a clean strip of the t-shirt into the water and start wiping the blood away. The wound is looking a bit better, and the bleeding isn't as fast, but I still need to hurry.

I work silently for a couple of minutes, wiping away blood and applying pressure to the oozing wound. Scar man interrupts my work by handing me an old but unused first aid kit. I didn't even realize the other man had come in, but I look around and he is already gone.

"Thanks," I say, and open the red bag. I see a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, along with gauze, and a needle and thread. Bingo. Sadly, there aren't any band-aids. What kind of first aid kit doesn't have band-aids?! Whatever. I'll make do without them. I silently give Nico a couple of apologies, then proceed to sew his wound shut. The bleeding has stopped, and I cleaned the wound, and now that the makeshift stitches are working, Nico should be fine.

I brush some hair out of Nico's eyes and put my hand on his forehead. A slight fever, but that's to be expected. No sign of infection though, so that's good. I mutter another quick prayer, and his fever lessens. Nico sighs, and I smile. Nico will be okay.

"You seem quite skilled at this." Scar man says. I smile tiredly.

"It's a gift, you could say. Good genetics." I smile at my joke and realize I don't know who this guy is or where I am.

"Sorry, I never asked you your name," I say. The man studies me, then says.

"Remus Lupin. Most just call me Lupin."

"Nice to meet you. And sorry for barging in like this. I'm not really sure how we got here." I say, hoping he won't detect my lie.

"Could you tell me where we are?" I ask.

"I'm afraid that's classified information," Lupin says slowly. He doesn't trust me. That's fine, I don't fully trust him either.

"Could you at least tell me the city?" At this, Lupin looks very confused, which I don't blame him for. Two teenagers appear in his house – one of which is bleeding all over the floor – and have no idea where they are. Anyone would be confused. I almost feel bad.

"London." He answers, and I don't doubt him. It explains the accents. I nod.

"Will your friend be alright?" Remus asks after a moment of silence. I look at Nico.

"He should be. We need to get home or people will start to worry, but he shouldn't travel in this condition." I say.

"And where is home?" He asks me. I consider lying, but he may be able to help. He's been helpful so far. I give him a vague answer.

"America." His eyebrows shoot up.

"You're far from home." I nod, feeling slightly sick. We are thousands of miles from camp with no ambrosia, no nectar, and no drachmas.

I hear a sudden increase in voices downstairs, and the barrage of voices carry through the creaky floors. Nico groans from beside me, and his eyes flicker open.