Author's Note: So, hey guys, guess what, I'm not dead! But um, first time I've posted something up in a long time (not to mention first time I've really written something in a long time), so buckle in. For the Supernatural end of this, I'm putting the point of time where this all began for the Winchesters just a couple episodes before the end of the third season. That's right, instead of hunting Mr. Frankenalchemist in episode 3x15, they get tangled up in this whole mess (which will all be explained in time). On the Once Upon a Time end, this is right after "True North", episode 1x09. Now, the stage all is set, so let's dive right in.
"Really?!" a frustrated blond exclaimed as her car began to slow to a stop. The radio had already died, now the car itself was starting to go. She pulled herself over to the side of the road, groaning and leaning back, covering her face with her hands. "Because of course. Because my car actually running would mean that something was going right for me."
A knock on her window nearly made the woman jump a little, and she uncovered her face to look at the red-haired man peering through her window. "Oh…" she said, letting out a sigh as she moved to roll down the window. "Dr. Hopper…"
"Sheriff Swan?" the redhead peered at her with an expression of concern. "You don't look well. Is everything alright?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah, everything's…" Emma started to fall short before shaking her head. If she couldn't talk to an actual therapist about her problems, then who could she talk to? "Well, no, everything's not exactly alright."
Dr. Hopper nodded a little, sympathetic. "It's about Sheriff Graham, isn't it?"
Emma rubbed her temples, sitting back in her car. "Yes…" She paused. "…No…I don't know. At the moment it's not really, my car just sort of broke down…"
"Oh!" Dr. Hopper slid away from the car window, moving to grab his cell phone. "Let me call you in a tow truck then. You've never really had to call for one around here before, have you?"
"Not yet, no," Emma replied, attempting to turn the car back on to see if she could discern the problem. At the moment, nothing. No radio, no lights…not even a sound of reassurance from the engine. "Crap…" she muttered, sitting back.
"Hi, it's Dr. Hopper. I'm here with the sheriff; she seems to be having a little bit of car trouble?" The therapist paused, then leaned over, back down to the window. "Any idea what kind of trouble?"
"Yeah, the car's not turning on at all," Emma sighed, leaning back in her seat for a moment before opening the door and getting out.
"She says the car isn't starting," Dr. Hopper replied. He paused for another moment, twisted around to look at the street signs. "Yeah, we're on…Briar Street. It's the yellow Volkswagen." Pause. "Alright. Okay, great. We'll be waiting." Hanging up, he looked over at Emma. "He said he'll be here in a few minutes."
Emma raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. "Only a few minutes?"
"Yeah," Dr. Hopper replied with a slight grin. "It's one of the advantages of living in a small town." He looked around, then back at Emma. "Can I take you anywhere once you've spoken to the mechanic? I walked to work today, but my house is just down the street from the garage."
The blond thought for a moment before shaking her head. "Uh, no. No thanks. I was just going to Granny's for some lunch; I can walk." She grinned slightly. "One of the advantages of living in a small town."
Dr. Hopper chuckled and shook his head. "Well, at least you still have your humor," he said. His look becoming more sympathetic, he added, "But seriously. I've barely seen you since Sheriff Graham died. I understand how his death could've affected you; he was your boss, after all. Please, feel free to come by my office if you ever feel like you need to talk."
Emma's smile faded a little bit as she looked down at the ground, then back up, brushing some of the hair away from her face. "Yeah, I…I will." Her smile returned again, although this time it didn't quite reach her eyes. "To be honest, with all the work at keeping this job to begin with, and all the work that comes with it…" She shrugged. "Storybrooke may be a small town, but there's a hell of a lot going on in it. And then between that and Henry…and Regina…"
"And it's good that you have things to keep you busy in the wake of everything," Dr. Hopper agreed. "But don't try to keep it all bundled up inside; it isn't healthy." He tilted his head. "How are things going between you and Henry?"
"Hasn't he already told you?" Emma asked, raising an eyebrow.
"He has," Dr. Hopper replied. "But it's always best to hear from both parties, if possible. People don't always feel the same, after all."
Emma nodded, then sighed. "Difficult," she replied. "I mean-not so much with me and Henry. But Regina's still making it as difficult as possible to speak with him."
Dr. Hopper nodded, frowning a little. "Henry's expressed similar frustrations. But…if I may say, just off the record, Madam Mayor has never really been too thrilled about sharing."
"Yeah, but this is a kid we're talking about, not a pack of gum," Emma countered with a frown.
"She's also very protective of her son. It just comes with raising a child," Dr. Hopper finished.
Emma looked back down at the ground, muttering, "Yeah, I guess I missed out a bit on that part."
"But it also comes with being a mother," Dr. Hopper added, giving her a pointed look. "I'm sure you've felt it too."
The woman straightened a little bit and blinked. "Well…sure I have. I mean, of course. I'm the sheriff and…and he's still technically my son."
Dr. Hopper smiled a little. "He certainly is," he agreed, looking down the street and giving a wave to the tow truck. Looking back over at Emma, he added, "Are you sure you don't need a ride?"
Emma smiled. "No. No thanks. Again, I'll just walk."
Dr. Hopper nodded, moving to head back down the sidewalk. "In that case, I guess I'd better get back to the office. Don't be a stranger though, Sheriff Swan."
"Yeah, yeah, I'll think about it," Emma called back, turning to meet the tow truck and giving a small wave to signal it down. As the truck slowed to a stop, the door opened and she could hear classic rock playing over the radio. A man with short dark hair hopped out, dressed in jeans, an olive green t-shirt and a black leather jacket. Around his neck hung a thin bronze chain, the small pendant in the shape of a dragon's claw clutching some glass orb filled with a silvery liquid.
"Having some car trouble?" he asked.
"Reason I called," Emma replied as she watched him move around to the hood. "Well, reason Dr. Hopper called anyway…" Tilting her head, she studied the man for a moment. "I thought the local mechanic was Mr. Tilman."
The mechanic raised his eyebrows and gave her a slight grin. "You think there can only be one local mechanic in this town?" Patting the hood a couple of times, he glanced down at the car for a moment before looking back up at her. "Pop the hood?"
"Oh, right," Emma moved to pop the hood. "Sorry, I guess I just…you know, small town."
"Right." Dean lifted the hood, taking a look over the engine. "Mike's out today. Spending some long overdue time with his kids. I'm picking up the slack." As his eyes darted over the machinery, he mumbled, "Tch, these foreign cars..."
Emma frowned. "What? Do you not know how to fix it?"
Giving her a dry smile, he replied, "Of course I can fix it. Just that, you know, American cars are far more reliable. Especially the older ones."
The blond gave him a look, hands on her hips. "Oh yeah? And what would you recommend?"
"Chevy Impala. 1967 model, particularly. Give it all the TLC it needs and it'll give you a sweet ride for decades to come."
"Hm. Sounds like a lot of work," Emma replied, watching as the man headed back over to the truck and grabbed a portable battery.
"Yeah well. It's also totally worth it," the man replied. Before she could reply, he continued, "Your car on the other hand? It's the battery. I'm gonna see if I can go ahead and jump you off here, save you the towing fee. Otherwise it's coming back to the shop with me. This battery looks pretty old. It may have to be replaced."
"Right, well…thanks. Mr., um…"
"Hunter. Owen Hunter," the mechanic replied, putting the clamps onto the battery to attempt to charge the car back up. Looking over at her, he instructed, "Alright, hop in the car, try turning on the engine."
"Here goes…" Emma said, sliding into the car and turning the key. Nothing.
"You trying it yet?"
"Yeah, I'm still not getting anything."
"Alright." As Emma stepped back out of the car, Owen detached the clamps and carried the battery back over to the car. "Yeah, looks like it's coming back to the shop. I'm gonna need your name and number…also not sure if you're gonna need a ride to anywhere."
"Oh, no, no. It's only a couple blocks from Granny's; that's where I was headed. I'll just walk," Emma replied as she wrote her name and number down on the pad of paper Owen supplied. Handing it back to the man, Owen glanced over it for a moment, then back up at Emma.
"So, the new sheriff. Ms. ...Emma Swan."
Emma gave a small, sheepish smile. "Yeah, that's me," she replied.
"My condolences about Graham. I really don't say this about many cops, but he was actually pretty decent, all things considered," Owen remarked, looking down at the pad of paper. Shaking his head, he then turned his attention to the car. "I'll take her back to the shop; she should be ready within a couple of hours. Business is pretty slow today and a replaced battery shouldn't take much time at all. I'll call you when she's ready."
"Thanks, I'll be waiting," Emma said, handing him the keys to the car and moving to head down the street as he hooked the car up to his truck.
"Sam?" a voice called out as its owner trekked through the woods. "SAM?" The owner of the voice was trying to keep out an edge of panic, but with each passing second, with every step deeper into unknown territory, it was becoming harder and harder to keep back. Glaring suddenly, he added, "Dammit! I know you're out there, you-!"
"And just whom would you be speaking of?" a man dressed in fur questioned, emerging from the trees with a loaded bow in hand.
The initial speaker frowned, taking in the man's outfit. "Did I land outside the Renfest or something?"
"I know not what you speak of," the man replied, eyeing him warily. "This is the Enchanted Forest."
Giving the medieval man a cynical look, the newcomer looked around, clearly struggling with the urge to sigh in exasperation. "Oh yeah. I just landed outside of a freaking LARP camp. Alright, look man, could you at least give me an idea of how far we are from Bismark?"
"Bismark… I have never heard of such a place." The medieval man replied, a confused frown on his face. But at least now he was slowly beginning to lower his bow. Looking around, he added, "You are looking for someone."
"Oh. Yeah man, am I really that frickin' obvious?" the newcomer replied, giving the man a dry, impatient look. "Some monster just took off with my brother and brought me here to…to the Enchanted Forest."
"A monster?" The medieval man took several steps closer, down the small hill he'd been standing on. "Please. If you could describe this monster you are looking for…" The newcomer looked over at him. "I'm a huntsman. I am very good at tracking, so perhaps I can help you with finding your brother."
"A huntsman, huh?" The newcomer looked around, starting to take a few steps deeper into the forest. "Well you're not the only hunter around here, buddy."
"I also know these woods better than anyone. They were my home."
The newcomer stopped, looking back at the Huntsman, staring at him for a few moments before scratching his head and sighing. "Alright, fine. Let's get started."
The Huntsman looked around, walking a slow, careful circle around the newcomer. "How long have you been walking since you parted ways with your brother?"
"Um…" The newcomer frowned. How long had he been walking since arriving here? "I dunno. Maybe about an hour?"
The Huntsman nodded. "We should probably return to where he was taken-"
"Yeah, about that," the newcomer interjected. "I don't think we really can. Not unless you can get us back to that abandoned Target."
The Huntsman looked back at the newcomer, his expression unconcerned as he was already started backtracking the man's footsteps. "A target shouldn't be too difficult to find in the woods, abandoned or no. So long as we follow your trail back to it…"
The newcomer rolled his eyes. "Not a target target, I mean a department store Target." Noticing the look of confusion return to the man's features, the newcomer sighed. "You don't…know what a department store is. Enchanted Forest. Right."
"I'll admit, I don't understand very much about your kind, even in this realm. But with what I know, this…'department store' is certainly nothing I have ever heard about. This 'Bismark' you come from must be very different."
"Yeah, well, we're not exactly from Bismark, that was just where we happened to be when my brother got kidnapped," the newcomer replied. Giving the Huntsman a wary look, he added, "So you're telling me you're not human?"
The Huntsman paused for a moment before smiling slightly. "It is…complicated," he replied. "But I think it is more than enough information to let you know that I grew up in these woods." Swiftly changing the subject, he added, "What do they call you, anyway?"
"Dean," the newcomer replied, following the Huntsman despite having little hope of the man being able to track his brother regardless of if they made it back to the spot he landed or not. "And you?"
The Huntsman gave a small shrug in return, continuing to move on in silence. Okaaay, people skills were starting to sputter out on the guy.
"…Right. Guess I'll just call you Huntsman."
After continued silence for about twenty minutes or so, the Huntsman finally spoke. "So how did it happen? Could you describe this monster?"
"I'm not entirely sure myself, actually. My brother and I were both out behind the Target. He was talking with some guy. Next thing I know, I'm here in the woods alone and Sammy…" Dean frowned, his voice trailing off.
"The man your brother was speaking to-he was a monster in disguise?"
"Well, no, he wasn't really all that much in disguise, actually. His skin was…kinda green. Kinda gold, I guess? Rotten teeth. Definitely had this whole creep vibe goin'…"
"You're right, that doesn't sound human."
"Yeah, but it sure as hell wasn't Kermit the Frog, either," Dean sighed as they eventually reached a clearing.
"This is the place?" the Huntsman asked, glancing over at Dean.
Dean looked around for a moment before looking back over at the Huntsman. "I dunno. You're the Huntsman; you tell me."
The Huntsman paused for a minute before nodding, beginning to look around. Dean sighed again, idly starting to look around here and there, even though he knew he wouldn't find anything. He'd already searched the place from top to bottom, already tried calling Sam up on his phone. So far? Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Finally looking up from scuffing around in the dirt for a bit, he lifted his head back up and looked around. "Huntsman?" he called out. Already it was starting to get a bit dark, the shadows growing taller and thicker between the trees. "Hey, Huntsman, where'd you go off to?"
Walking several yards from the clearing, he could see the Huntsman standing next to a tree, staring down at the ground. "Hey! Find anything?" Although somehow, he wasn't quite so sure…
The man looked over at him before shaking his head. "No," he replied, turning around and moving to walk past him. "But I might actually know of someone who can."
"Yeah? Like who?" Dean asked, moving to follow.
"The queen of this land, her majesty Regina."
About an hour later, Emma was back at the office, leaning back in her desk chair as she picked a bit at her sandwich. She had meant to just eat her lunch over at Granny's, but ever since the whole incident with Graham, things had just been kind of…weird. Uncomfortable? Not so much with the people; they all seemed supportive and empathetic enough.
Maybe that's what made her feel a little uncomfortable? Something she totally wasn't used to?
Letting out a sigh, she moved a hand to her forehead, pressing it for a moment before the hand slid down over her eyes. "I don't know…" she muttered, even though there was no one else around to hear her.
Whatever it was, something just felt…off. Really off. And she just…she really wanted it to hurry up and end already. Even working as much as she had been lately, it still wasn't doing the trick.
Feeling a chill in the air, she sat up and looked around, setting her sandwich down on her desk. Giving a small shiver, she stood up to check the thermostat, rubbing her arms as she went to investigate with a small frown. "Huh…" She was wearing her jacket, nobody had touched the thermostat (well of course nobody had, she was the only person in the building at the moment). She wasn't entirely sure why she was suddenly feeling so cold. And this really wasn't the first time this had happened; this had been happening off and on ever since Graham died.
"Maybe I'm just getting sick," she groaned, falling back into her desk chair and leaning back again. Staring up at the light, her frown deepened a bit as she noticed the lamp beginning to flicker.
"Oh, first the heat, now the lights?" the blond grumbled. "Graham never mentioned anything about this. Maybe I should call someone-"
"Emma."
That about made the woman sit bolt upright and jump to her feet, the swivel chair moving in a light spin in her wake. The color had drained from her face as she looked around. "What-"
That voice, it was so distinct. Practically right by her ear distinct. And whomever it belonged to was freezing, cold as ice. But as she stared wide-eyed at her desk, she could see there was no one there, no one else in the room but her.
But almost even more troubling wasn't where the voice had come from; it was from whom. She knew that voice with its distinct accent.
"Gra…Graham?"
Author's Note: This concludes the first chapter to Broken Wings. I'll try and have the next chapter out soon! Please leave a review, let me know what you think! Flames will be used to burn ghost remains. Until next time~!