A/N: Ok. This story is set after The Blood of Olympus and sometime after Season 3 Fredless in a universe where Darla never came back. Angel and the gang won't appear much in this chapter, but I've started the next one already. Let me know if you like it (and please be aware that this was supposed to be a one-shot and I only plan to write maybe 3 or 4 chapters)

For those of you who have read my other stories, I'm sorry I've not updated Piper and Leo Meet Piper and Leo-the inspiration isn't coming. Instead I've been working on five one-shots (including this) simultaneously. Also, if you are one of the individuals asking for more on The Magic of the Unexpected, I am trying to see if I can do anything else with it. However, I only planned for it to be a one-shot, so no guarantees.

That being said, please enjoy my first attempt at writing Nico di Angelo, son of Hades.


Nico was sick and tired of Camp Half-Blood.

That's not to stay he hadn't come to love the insufferable place since the war against Gaea. There were many people Nico had come to care deeply about at the Camp, but the socializing—it was exhausting. Nico was tired of capture the flag, and campfires. He was done with archery and lava-wall climbing. And he was at his wits end when it came to a certain son of Apollo and his stupid "Doctor's orders."

So, Nico decided to take a field trip. Who cared what Solace said? A little shadow travel hop to Camp Jupiter to visit Hazel couldn't hurt.

Alright, it's settled. Nico thought as he double checked his sword and small supply pack. Camp Jupiter, San Francisco, California. Grabbing a few of the abundant shadows in the Hades Cabin, Nico launched into the darkness and focused on his destination.

When the shadows cleared, Nico was certain of three things: (1)This was not Camp Jupiter. (2)He was surrounded. And (3)—he was the biggest idiot in the history of all demigods. Will Solace was right. Nico was not ready for shadow traveling. He would bet all his drachmas—scratch that—everything he owns, that if he tried to shadow travel again he would never reappear.

Nico examined his surroundings. It was an old, dingy warehouse, though it was clearly not used for storage. The place was extremely dark; Nico was only able to see anything because he was a son of Hades. And what he saw wasn't too discouraging at face value. The warehouse was scattered with ratty blankets, stained mattresses, and dissected pillows. At first glance, the collection of makeshift beds suggested the place was a refugee hideout. The truth was much darker. Those stains, on the beds, were definitely not coffee. Behind him, Nico could hear the faint clinking of chains and a continuous soundtrack of muffled screams and pleas. But that wasn't the worst of it. Over top of everything was the overpowering stench of blood and death. Nico could practically hear the cries of all those who lost their lives in this building.

The son of Hades absorbed all these details in an instant; he had bigger things to worry about. Dozens of figures had relinquished their spots in the darkness to surround the intruder. They looked human, all different shapes and sizes, but Nico knew better. They all felt dead, but in an unfamiliar way that made Nico's stomach churn. Not to mention the inhuman growls they were producing. He knew instantly he would be unable to control these strange creatures, not through Underworld magic or force.

The most confident looking creature stepped forward. He was nearly two feet taller than Nico, and proudly displayed a ridged forehead and two vicious fangs. "How did you get in here, human?" he growled.

Murmurs of dissention echoed from the crowd. Someone in the back called, "Why are we asking him questions? He's clearly one of Angel's. Let's just eat him already!"

Nico frowned, "Who's Angel?" He surprised himself with how calm he was. Then again—he'd been to Tartarus and back. This was nothing compared to the pit.

"Don't play stupid with us," a figure to the right of the first stepped forward. "He is not only a sorry excuse for a vampire, but your leader too."

The crowed hissed. Nico didn't pick up much, but he was pretty sure some of them muttered about "hanging out with humans", "falling in love with a slayer", and "drinking from bags".

The first creature, who was clearly the leader, conceded, snarling loudly, "Rip him to shreds!"

A creature off to the side rushed at Nico, but the son of Hades didn't even have to think. He whirled around, stygian iron sword already in his hand, and cut a huge gash across his attacker's chest. To Nico's immense surprise, sticky red goo erupted from the wound. His first thought was, Blood? Not dust? His second thought was, Gaaa! as another sprung at him.

After impaling his second attacker, Nico started to worry he was attacking mortals. After all, every monster Nico knew of bled sand—except for the more godly ones, like giants, or the gods and titans themselves. They bled golden ichor. Additionally, Nico's choice of weapon could be quite dangerous; unlike celestial bronze or imperial gold, stygian iron can harm immortals and mortals alike. His concern was erased, however, when his newly impaled friend got over his pain and lunged for Nico, sword still buried hilt-deep in his gut. No mortal could survive that.

Dodging an attack from behind, Nico pulled out his sword and kicked the injured creature away from him. For a moment, the demigod was able to absorb the blood hungry looks that surrounded him. He was faintly aware of the leader yelling something. How, in the name of Hades, am I supposed to kill these things?

He didn't get to wonder for long and three surged forward as one. Acting on reflex, Nico swung his sword at their necks. For a fraction of a second, Nico saw their heads leave their bodies. Next thing he knew, there were three piles of dust at his feet.

Ok. Decapitation, I can do that. Unfortunately, his success enraged the remaining creatures, and Nico was still outnumbered 20+ to 1. After a few seconds of scrambling to stay alive, he fell into a rhythm: dodge, duck, parry, swing, decapitate, repeat. All the while, the leader was yelling at the top of his lungs. Nico caught "just a boy", and "incompetent" mixed in with the numerous swear words.

Nico was vaguely surprised he wasn't dead yet.

As though he jinxed it, a creature managed to jump him from behind. Nico staggered. Another tackled them from the side, and they tumbled to the ground. Nico heard his sword skitter across the floor. Someone kicked him in the face, and someone else knelt on his back. The man who tackled him from behind yelled something about getting the first taste, but that provoked a plague of upset growls. Nico's vision started to go black from exertion—shadow traveling, and now this—but suddenly the arguing stopped. Now defenseless, Nico was hauled to his feet by four or five individuals, ears ringing.

The leader stalked towards him, "You really do look like a tasty morsel. The fighters are always the sweetest." He turned to the man who overpowered Nico, "You get the first bite, but I will not hesitate to dust you if you take more than your share," his eyes met Nico's, "I plan to enjoy this one for a long time."

A hand wrapped around Nico's neck. The demigod struggled, dislodging two of his captors and smashing the foot of the creature behind him before he was subdued again. Nico was sorely tempted to summon an army of skeletons, but he figured he better not risk fading from existence. And, you know, there was the whole breathing thing too. He'd really rather be able to breathe.

The grip loosened, and Nico gasped for breath as his head was wrenched toward his shoulder. He could feel his attacker's breath on his neck, and a disturbing thought occurred to him. Vampire. That "Angel" guy was called "a sorry excuse for a vampire". Why would they care unless…. They're vampires. Honest to goodness vampires—not empousai. How's that possible?

It wasn't as painful as Nico expected. It was nothing compared to drinking from the fiery waters of the Phlegethon, or even being turned into a corn stalk. The bite was a little warm, and stung. Sure, Nico could feel the blood abandoning him, and the light headedness that always accompanies blood loss, but he was almost disappointed. You know, what with the pop culture buzz around vampires.

He probably would have stood there like an idiot for longer than he would've liked to admit, but several things happened at once. There was a large clank from behind him—where he'd heard the people chained in the darkness. A moment later there was a cry of outrage and the sounds of a scuffle off to the side. And then the other side. And behind him. Nico kicked himself. There were people in that darkness behind him—people in chains who needed help, and here he was, playing dinner for some vampire while someone else seemed to be fighting against the horde of blood suckers.

The demigod twisted slightly and prepared to pull away. Before he could, the vampire who had bit him stumbled away with a gurgled cry. Nico turned and caught the scene out of the corner of his eye. The man was writhing in pain, gasping, and clawing at his throat. Nico's blood was smeared across his face…and the vampire seemed to be smoking. In moments, he was nothing more than a pile of powder.

The son of Hades stood as confused as the rest of the vampires for a few moments, attempting to understand what was happening, before coming back to his senses. The fight around him was still raging, and he could sense the dumbfounded vampires around him weren't going to remain as such for long. Nico wrenched himself free of the grasp of his two captors, who still held him in a half-hearted hold, and lunged for his sword. He tucked into a roll, coming up smoothly and cutting off the head of the nearest vampire.

That was when all hell broke loose. And Nico knows what he's talking about when it comes to hell.


A/N: Is it worth continuing?