"Storybrooke? Really?" Dean asked as they passed the sign welcoming them to the town. "It sounds like a low-scale Disney Land."
"Shut up," Sam said. "It's the closest town and you were complaining about not having eaten for days."
"They better have good pie," the older Winchester muttered.
Sam rolled his eyes. "With a name like Storybrooke, I'm sure it's their specialty."
It was a quaint town. Cutesy, white-picket fence, bake-something-to-welcome-the-new-neighbor, Dean thought. And that kind of town usual came chock full of grudges and poison apples in the pie and bodies under flowerbeds. Except this town seemed…different. He couldn't quite place it, but it was off. And not in the usual housewife by day, monster by night way. It was something else.
Sammy parked the car—not his baby, Dean thought bitterly. He wanted his damn car back—and they went into "Granny's Diner". Dean couldn't believe this place. Granny's Diner? They sat down at a booth and waited for a waitress to come around with their menus. It was around five o'clock and Dean hadn't had anything except a lame gas station sandwich for breakfast. He was starving.
"I don't recognize you two," a tall, scantily clad girl said as she placed two menus in front of them.
"We're just passing through," Sam said before Dean could get a word in. Glancing at the girl's nametag, he saw her name was Ruby. Cruel joke.
"Any hotels in this town?" Dean asked her. He didn't have the urge to sleep in a car for a third time that week.
The girl smiled. "My grandmother actually owns a Bed and Breakfast here. You're welcome to stay there.
"Awesome," Dean said, opening his menu. "What do you recommend?" he asked Ruby.
"Well, for dinner, the steak is pretty good. And for dessert, the cherry pie is especially delicious."
Sam ordered a salad. Dean got the steak. And Ruby had been right about the cherry pie—delicious.
Granny's Bed and Breakfast looked like it came straight out of a fairytale, and Dean said as much to Sam once they were in their room.
"It's weird here," Sam agreed. "I dunno."
"Hey—think there's a case to be found?"
Sam shrugged. "There's not really much to go off of. Maybe it's just…different."
"Maybe. But either way, I'm going back to that diner tomorrow. The pie was phenomenal."
Dean went for a walk the next day, the weather irresistibly nice. He had a general look around the town, saying hi to a couple people, a little small talk here and there. He couldn't find anything palpably wrong.
"Hey!"
He turned to glance over his shoulder and didn't see anything at first—then he looked a little lower. It was a kid, maybe eight or ten, a book bag over his shoulder.
"Who're you?" the kid asked.
"I'm Dean," he said. "And who are you?"
"Henry. You don't live here."
"No…me and my brother are just passing through."
"We don't get visitors here," Henry stated.
Dean cocked his head to the side. "Really? In a nice town like this?"
"It's not as nice as it seems," the boy said.
"How so?"
Just then, a yellow Volkswagen pulled up alongside them.
"Henry, who's this?" a blonde asked through a rolled down window.
"His name's Dean," Henry said. For a moment, the kid looked puzzled. "I have to get home," he said all of a sudden before taking off running. Weird.
"You know him?" Dean asked the blonde, doing a good job of keeping his eyes on her face.
"Yeah, he's my son."
"Oh—he just started talking to me, I wasn't—"
"It's fine," she said with a smile. "He does that. Are you visiting?"
"Nah, just passing through. Me and my brother."
She nodded. "I see. We don't get a lot of visitors here."
"I heard as much. From…Henry?"
"Yeah, right. He's a good kid."
Dean tilted his head. "I thought…"
"Well, he's my biological son. His adopted mother is the town's mayor."
"Wow," Dean said, the situation getting more and more awkward. "That's…uh…"
The blonde pressed her lips together. "Yeah. Well, have a nice day."
"Right. You too."
"Oh, I'm Emma, by the way." She stuck her hand out the window.
"Dean," Dean said, needlessly.
"Anything unusual?" Sam asked as soon as Dean came through the door.
"Not our kind," Dean said. "But plenty."
"I checked the local papers—apparently someone moved here a few months ago and started stirring up some excitement. Emma Swan."
"Emma?"
"Yeah." Sam passed his brother an older issue of the local paper. "I guess she's the new sheriff now. The old one died. Heart problems. He wasn't even thirty."
"This girl's the sheriff?"
"That's what it says."
"I met her…the mayor's kid is actually hers, biologically."
"Maybe we should stick around," Dean said. "Check out the previous sheriff's death."
Sam nodded. "Sounds good."
Henry was sitting on his bed, hands in fists and pressed against his forehead. Dean, Dean, Dean. Dean and his brother. The name was so familiar, and he looked familiar, too. But where had Henry seen him before?
He wished he could talk to Emma. But Regina would be furious if she found out Emma had said even two words to him when he'd been walking home from school today. And he didn't want to get her in trouble.
"Henry, are you home?"
Regina was home. Henry realized he hadn't even begun to do his homework and it was almost supper time. He'd been thinking hard for a really long time.
"Yes!" he called.
"Come downstairs, it's almost time to eat."
He hopped down from his bed and made his way slowly down the stairs. Dean, Dean, Dean. The book! He'd seen Dean in the book! And he'd been with another man—his brother, Sam. What was their last name…Winchester! That was it! Sam and Dean Winchester! And they were here to help. And—somehow—they were here to be helped, too.