Silence was never promising. Days would pass and the whispers would begin. Citizens would make bets on who would not be returning home the next spring. Knowing this was how all wars in Athens were spoken of, it was only expected that (NTHN OUINTSESTR)Dean Winchester be opposed to his son joining the garrison. However, more than that he was proud because his son was brave, strong, masculine, and everything that the men in his family had grown up learning to be. Ben was more than Dean could have ever hoped for.

Now, with the loss of his mother, Ben had needed to learn the ways of Greece and its men at a much earlier age than most children. Already Dean was incapable of giving his son the childhood he deserved. In some ways, he had become exactly the thing he had never wanted to be- his own father.

The loss of his wife, the danger that his son was in, and his struggles with his own faith had led Dean to where he was now. He kneeled down in front of a monument to Hermes, messenger of the gods. Of all the gods, Dean chose to pray to Hermes, the protector of travelers.

Now Dean was not a religious man by any means, despite his false pretenses in public. Of course, the Winchesters were always keeping things hidden. There were only three times in his life that he had gotten down on his knees and prayed, letting himself feel vulnerable. The first time was when he was 12 years old and his little brother, Sam, had contracted a disease. The second time was when his wife was on her deathbed. Hopefully this would be the last damn time because, in his opinion, praying was no better than begging. Speaking to faceless invisible beings just seemed pretty ridiculous.

Lifting his eyes for the first time since he'd entered the pantheon, Dean gazed upon the statue of Hermes at first with a cold, harsh look. That soon faded away though, and he let that pity for himself creep back in, if only for a short while.

"Uh… Alright, Hermes… Listen up, I know you've got your hands full, being the messenger of Zeus or whatever the hell it is you do exactly, but I need your help. My brother and my son are all I got left. My son's going off to fight, but chances are he won't be coming back. If you could do something for him, just keep him alive, alright?" The man mumbled beneath his breath, his prayers only heard by the empty room around him. "Oh, and, while you're at it could you maybe give me some sign that you've got your ears on?"

What the hell was he thinking coming here? Did he really think that some mythical all-powerful being would just pop up for him. Things were never that easy. Dean stood up, brushing the dust from his knees, and he turned. Still nothing came. Maybe the gods were taking a day off.

He tried to have faith- he really did. He probably could have killed himself trying. Every time he looked in the mirror he saw what he had become. He wasn't there for Lisa when she died, and he wasn't going to be there for Ben now. The walk home was long and quiet, with no interruption from a certain messenger god.

When he got home, he laid flat out on his bed, just staring up at the ceiling for awhile. He would try talking to his brother, but he was probably already sleeping. Dean never did understand how his brother could work his ass off how he did. He had a love of reading and learning that Dean had always lacked. Hell, before Lisa, Dean was known as the ladies' man and the guy who always had his alcohol by him, not a scholar by any means. That wasn't uncommon with rich men however.

Thinking about his past tended to piss him off though, and he was already in a sour mood. So much for relaxing. Or actually getting some sleep. Giving up on that hope, the man stood up and walked over to the mirror which rested a few feet from the foot of his bed. The mirror was yellowed, cracked, and it was absolutely ironic, really. It was screwed up, just like his family. Your family's not screwed up. You are.

Dean peered into the mirror, a heavy expression on his face. The more he stared, the less he seemed to be there. He felt like crashing his knuckles in the glass just to see if he was still real. From the corner of his eyes, a pair of pale blue eyes seemed to appear from nowhere, and a man to match. Dean furrowed his brows and turned on his heels, yielding a dagger.

"Who the hell are you?" He hissed. Hadn't today been long enough already?

"My name is Castiel. Your people know me as Hermes, messenger of the gods."

"Right. Now I'm going to ask you again, who… or what are you?" Was this guy serious?

"I told you, I am Castiel. Did you not ask for my help?" The strange man cocked his head to the side, as if confused that Dean was denying his help.

Even if it was ridiculous, somehow this man knew that he'd prayed to Hermes, so Dean kind of believed him. "Alright. If you're Hermes, or Castiel… Prove it."

"Right." Without any further questions, the guy that had somehow broken into his house just sprouted a pair of black wings. They seemed to unfurl from the center of his back, but there was no way in hell a pair of wings so enormous could fit behind this guy's back, no matter how broad his shoulders were. Stretched out, they barely fit in the room.

"Well alright. I can't exactly deny that." Dean scratched the back of his head. He was probably the only guy in all of Athens who could shrug off something like this. Then again, his family did seem to attract things that just… weren't natural. "Mind explaining why you just now decided to show up?"

"I needed to hear the word from Zeus. Olympus is very organized and they can't have any of the Gods acting on impulse. That ends badly." Castiel explained, only then taking a moment to look around the room. "This room is small and smells strange."

"It's the bathroom."

"Oh."

Dean sighed and grabbed a towel, wiping his face before heading into his room.

"So, what, Zeus wanted you to protect my son? To what do I owe the special treatment?" He sat down on his bed again, eyes focused on this strange being he was supposed to believe was a god. Huh. His wings were gone again.

"Zeus believes your family line to be very important. You were a man without much faith in the gods, but you called upon me. Some of the gods see you to be worthy for that reason." The blue-eyed god just stood in the middle of the room. He didn't seem to understand typical social graces.

"Some? And what do the other gods think?" The Winchester boy cocked a brow.

"They think you are a self-righteous fool unworthy of protection. Artemis would smite you herself if given the chance." He was blunt, perhaps because he didn't really have a filter.

"Well, hate is like love in a way. Either way you're thinking about me." Dean winked, letting a little bit of his former charm out.

"If you say so, yes."

Man this guy was dry.

"So uh… Are you just going to stay here and talk or… don't you have some godly things to do?"

"I do, yes. Zeus has given me a break to guard you. He feels it necessary that you have a personal guardian."

"So… Zeus wants somebody keeping an eye on me. Great. You see, this is why I can't have nice things. Son of a bitch." Dean groaned and collapsed back onto his bed. "Well, there's a guest room. You can stay there."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Because that's all I need- another mouth to feed. And a god's mouth at that. I know how much you pricks e-"

There was a light fluttering sound and Dean was left alone in his room again.

Hermes was a real dick.