Summary: Hermes almost got caught being a little shit.

Dean had barely gotten the Impala back on the road before Hermes started pacing again—inside the car, because apparently personal space was a mortal concept.
Sam was in the passenger seat, scrolling through lore like his life depended on it.
Which… it did.
Dean kept glancing at the rearview mirror.
Hermes looked like he was enjoying himself way too much for a guy who just body-slammed a sea demon in a diner.
“Okay,” Dean said finally. “You’re gonna explain something.”
Hermes glanced up. “Oh good. Questions. I love questions.”
Dean pointed at him. “You told us not to trust gods.”
Hermes nodded. “Correct.”
Dean jabbed a thumb toward the backseat. “But you are literally a god.”
Hermes blinked innocently. “Yes.”
Dean’s voice rose. “So why the hell should we trust you?”
Hermes smiled like Dean had just asked him what two plus two was.
“Because I’m charming,” Hermes said.
Sam muttered, “That’s not an answer.”
Hermes shrugged. “Because I’m helpful.”
Dean snapped, “Still not an answer.”
Hermes sighed dramatically, slumping back against the seat.
“Fine. The real answer,” he said, “is because I actually like humans.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
Hermes looked offended. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Sam glanced back. “Most gods see humans like toys.”
Hermes pointed at Sam like he’d said something smart. “Exactly! And toys are boring. Humans are unpredictable. You break rules. You survive impossible odds. You make terrible decisions based entirely on emotion—”
Dean nodded. “Yep.”
Hermes continued, “—and then somehow you turn those terrible decisions into legend.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying you like us because we’re entertaining.”
Hermes grinned. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Dean grumbled, “Great. We’re cosmic reality TV.”
Hermes snapped his fingers. “Exactly!”
Dean’s grip tightened on the wheel. “That still doesn’t explain why we shouldn’t trust the other gods.”
Hermes’s smile faded.
The road stretched ahead, empty and black, the kind of darkness that felt too deep for Kansas.
Hermes looked out the window.
“Because gods don’t help,” he said quietly. “Gods use.”
Sam’s voice softened. “Even you?”
Hermes didn’t answer right away.
Then he said, “I’m not innocent. I’m just… less cruel.”
Dean scoffed. “That’s a low bar.”
Hermes nodded. “You have no idea.”
Sam hesitated. “So what are we supposed to do if one shows up?”
Hermes immediately perked up.
“Oh! Easy,” he said. “Lie.”
Dean blinked. “That’s your plan?”
Hermes smiled brightly. “It’s my plan for most situations.”
Dean muttered, “Of course it is.”
Hermes leaned forward between the seats, voice suddenly sharp.
“But seriously,” he said. “If Zeus shows up? Don’t make eye contact. Don’t argue. Don’t accept gifts. Don’t drink anything. Don’t—”
Dean cut in. “Okay, why would we drink something a god gives us?”
Hermes stared at him like Dean had just confessed he ate glue.
Dean frowned. “What?”
Hermes exhaled. “Because mortals are always like, ‘Ooo, magical drink!’ and then suddenly you’re a tree. Or pregnant. Or cursed for twelve generations.”
Sam stared. “Pregnant?”
Hermes waved a hand. “It’s Zeus. It happens.”
Dean’s mouth opened.
Closed.
Then Dean just muttered, “I hate this pantheon.”
Hermes grinned. “Welcome!”
Sam asked carefully, “What about Poseidon?”
Hermes’s whole body tensed.
Not much.
Just enough that Dean noticed.
Hermes’s smile returned, but it was… forced.
“If Poseidon shows up,” Hermes said, “you run.”
Dean frowned. “Run? We don’t run.”
Hermes stared at him. “Dean Winchester, you absolutely run.”
Dean snapped, “We strategically retreat.”
Hermes nodded. “Yes. That.”
Sam looked out at the dark road. “So Poseidon is the big problem.”
Hermes’s eyes flicked to Sam.
“He’s not the biggest,” Hermes murmured.
Dean’s brows furrowed. “Who’s bigger?”
Hermes opened his mouth—
And the sky turned white.
Not lightning.
Not thunder.
Just sudden, impossible daylight that swallowed the road.
Dean slammed the brakes instinctively, the Impala fishtailing slightly before coming to a stop.
Sam’s laptop flew forward.
“Dean!” Sam barked.
Dean didn’t answer.
Because the air had changed.
It felt… heavy.
Like gravity had gotten personal.
Hermes slowly sat up straighter in the backseat.
And for the first time since they met him, he looked nervous.
Dean’s voice came out low. “Hermes…”
Hermes didn’t take his eyes off the windshield.
“…Don’t freak out,” Hermes said.
Dean barked a humorless laugh. “Buddy, too late.”
Sam’s voice was tight. “What is it?”
Hermes swallowed.
Then he forced a smile so fake it should’ve been illegal.
“Oh,” Hermes said. “Well. This is… great timing.”
Dean stared forward.
A figure stood in the middle of the road.
Tall. Radiant. Cloaked in light that didn’t hurt the eyes but still made your skin crawl. His presence alone made the world feel small.
Like the universe itself had stepped closer.
The figure raised a hand.
The Impala’s engine died instantly.
Dean whispered, “Oh come on.”
Sam’s face had gone pale. “That’s…”
Hermes said, very softly, “Zeus.”
Dean turned his head slowly to look at Hermes.
“You said he might show up,” Dean hissed. “You didn’t say he’d show up like a traffic stop!”
Hermes gave a weak shrug.
“He’s dramatic,” Hermes whispered back. “It’s a family thing.”
The light outside intensified.
Then Zeus spoke.
His voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
It vibrated in Dean’s bones like a warning bell.
“HERMES.”
Hermes rolled down the window with two fingers like he was greeting a cop.
He leaned out with the biggest, most innocent smile Dean had ever seen on anyone in his entire life.
“Oh hey, big guy!” Hermes called, cheerful as hell. “We were just talking about you!”
Dean’s eyes widened.
Sam mouthed, What is he doing?
Hermes continued, not missing a beat.
“All good things! All good things!” he added quickly, like he was trying to patch a sinking ship with duct tape.
Zeus stepped closer.
The light followed him like it was afraid to leave his side.
His gaze shifted to the Impala.
To Sam.
To Dean.
And Dean had the overwhelming sensation of being judged like an insect.
“You travel with mortals,” Zeus said, voice edged with disgust.
Hermes laughed lightly. “Oh, you know. Mentorship. Community outreach. Mortal enrichment program.”
Dean muttered, “This is the dumbest way I’ve ever almost died.”
Sam whispered, “Dean, shut up.”
Zeus’s eyes narrowed. “Hermes.”
Hermes straightened a bit. Still smiling.
“Yes?”
Zeus’s voice sharpened. “Why are you meddling in what is sealed?”
Hermes blinked. “Meddling? Me? Never.”
Zeus took another step.
The air crackled.
Dean’s hair actually stood on end.
Sam’s hand slowly slid toward the angel blade tucked under his jacket.
Hermes noticed immediately.
He snapped his fingers.
Sam’s hand froze mid-motion like it had hit an invisible wall.
Sam glared. “Hermes—”
Hermes whispered without looking back, “If you stab him, you’ll explode.”
Dean hissed, “Good to know.”
Zeus’s gaze flicked between them.
“Ah,” Zeus murmured. “These are the ones.”
Dean’s stomach dropped. “The ones?”
Hermes’s smile twitched.
Zeus’s voice was cold. “The brothers who defied Death.”
Sam swallowed.
Dean’s jaw clenched. “Yeah. That’s us. Big fan.”
Zeus didn’t react.
He just stared at them.
And then he smiled.
It was worse than anger.
“Mortals with arrogance,” Zeus said. “Mortals with history.”
Hermes leaned out the window again, voice too bright.
“Okay! So! Great chat. Love the energy. But we were just leaving—”
Zeus lifted his hand slightly.
Hermes stopped talking immediately.
Dean’s eyes widened.
Even Hermes shut up.
That was terrifying.
Zeus spoke again, voice quiet.
“The sea stirs.”
Hermes’s face went still.
Zeus’s gaze turned toward the horizon, like he could see through the earth.
“Poseidon grows impatient,” Zeus said. “And when Poseidon grows impatient… mortals drown.”
Dean couldn’t stop himself. “We’re in Kansas.”
Zeus’s eyes snapped back to Dean.
The light sharpened.
Dean suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Not choking.
Not suffocating.
Just… his lungs refused to work, like the concept of oxygen had been revoked.
Sam shouted, “Dean!”
Hermes’s voice cracked, sharp and urgent.
“Father.”
Zeus’s eyes shifted to Hermes.
Hermes held his gaze.
And for a second Dean saw it.
Not just the trickster.
Not the smug messenger.
Hermes looked like someone who’d spent an eternity walking on eggshells around a monster.
Hermes spoke carefully.
“Let him breathe.”
Zeus stared at Hermes.
Then slowly lowered his hand.
Dean sucked in air like he’d been underwater.
He coughed, furious.
Hermes leaned out the window again, laughing nervously.
“Haha! Great joke! Classic Zeus prank!”
Dean whipped his head toward Hermes.
“What the hell?”
Hermes whispered back through his teeth, still smiling at Zeus.
“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”
Zeus’s expression remained unreadable.
“You will not interfere,” Zeus said to Hermes.
Hermes nodded quickly.
“Oh absolutely,” Hermes said. “No interference. Just… bonding. Mortal bonding. Very harmless.”
Zeus stared at him.
Then his gaze dropped to the Impala.
“You ride in a mortal vehicle,” Zeus said.
Hermes laughed a little too loudly.
“Isn’t it adorable?” Hermes said. “Like a little… little mortal chariot.”
Dean’s eye twitched.
Hermes glanced back at Dean and mouthed: play along.
Dean forced a strained smile that looked like he wanted to bite someone.
Zeus’s gaze sharpened.
“You grow attached,” Zeus said, almost accusing.
Hermes blinked rapidly.
“Attached? No,” Hermes said quickly. “No no no. I don’t do attached. I’m allergic.”
Sam muttered, “That’s relatable.”
Hermes ignored him.
Zeus stepped closer to the hood of the Impala.
His light reflected off the chrome like the car was trembling.
He leaned down slightly, peering through the windshield at Dean and Sam.
“Be careful, sons of Winchester,” Zeus said softly.
Dean’s blood ran cold.
Sam’s voice came out strained. “How do you know our name?”
Zeus smiled.
“We know many things,” he said. “We knew you before you knew yourselves.”
Hermes’s smile vanished.
Zeus straightened.
His voice dropped, warning-heavy.
“The sea is rising,” Zeus said. “The old hunger wakes.”
He looked at Hermes.
“If you stand in its way,” Zeus said, “you will drown with them.”
Hermes held Zeus’s gaze.
And then Hermes smiled again.
Not cocky.
Not playful.
Just… stubborn.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Hermes said.
Zeus stared at him.
Then, without another word—
the light vanished.
Night snapped back into place like someone slammed a door.
The engine coughed and came back to life on its own.
The world returned to normal.
Too normal.
Dean sat there breathing hard.
Sam stared at the road like he expected Zeus to reappear.
Hermes sank back into the seat, suddenly looking… exhausted.
Dean finally spoke.
“…Okay.”
Sam swallowed. “So.”
Dean looked at Hermes slowly.
“You’re different, huh?”
Hermes gave a weak laugh.
“Yeah,” Hermes said quietly. “Different.”
Dean leaned back in his seat, eyes hard.
“Buddy,” Dean said, “you are so full of crap.”
Hermes smirked faintly. “Yes.”
Sam exhaled. “But you’re still helping.”
Hermes looked out the window.
Then he said softly, “I’m trying.”
Dean started driving again, slower now.
After a moment, Dean muttered, “He called us ‘sons of Winchester.’”
Sam nodded. “Yeah.”
Dean’s voice turned grim. “That means this isn’t just a hunt.”
Hermes didn’t argue.
He just said, very quietly—
“No.”
And in the darkness ahead, the smell of salt returned.
Stronger.
Closer.
Like something vast and ancient was already moving toward them.