Chapter Two

The Lying, The Witch, And The Trenchcoat

"It's not me, it's you, it's not me, it's you / Always has been you / All the lies and stupid things / You say and do, it's you" -Skillet

"You're sure we're goin' the right way?" Dean asked for the hundredth time, his fingers drumming the steering wheel impatiently. "Have we seen that tree before? I think we've seen that tree before."

"Dean, we haven't seen that tree, and yes, we're going the right way," Sam replied, going over the map their father had drawn on one of the notebook pages yet again just in case. "Can we turn down the radio?" He started to reach for the knob, since the Led Zepplelin was starting to get to him, but Dean grabbed it and turned it down first. Sam sighed, irritated at Dean's mollycoddling. "I could have done it myself..."

"You've got a cracked melon, I get it," dean said, glancing worriedly at his brother from the corner of his eye. "Besides, you'd have turned it down too much, and I'd have to slap you."

Sam leaned back in the passenger seat again, pouring himself back into the map and comparing it to the road map of Maine they'd picked up. He'd triple checked it twelve times ago, and he was absolutely positive they were on the right track. He rubbed his temple, the headache already subsiding. Sure, he was still recovering from his ordeal, the walls inside his head crumbling down and he had to pick up the pieces, but he was fine. Really, Dean didn't have to keep looking at him as though he was about to go apeshit and starting killing people. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean said with a smirk. And then he practically stood on the brakes, making the car come to a sudden stop, and Sam was thrown against his seatbelt. Thank God he'd worn the thing.

"What the hell?" He said, glaring at his brother.

"Look," Dean said, pointing at a road sign, the word "Storybrooke, 1 Mile" written on it clear as day. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Strange as it was to meet a woman in the woods, it was stranger still to discover that she was a witch. Gabriel had nothing against witches of this world, as they did not serve his self righteous older brother Lucifer as the ones of present-day Earth. As he helped the woman build her house, they'd gotten to talking, and she revealed things to him as though they'd known each other for years.

"I wish for children," she said as they worked, taking a rest on a stump. "I will take in lost children here, that is my plan."

Of course, Gabriel was no fool. He knew exactly what she meant by this. He was many millennia old, there was no way he could have missed the underlying agenda this woman had, especially since it was written in such detail as a fable in other worlds. But the cottage they were building here was made of wood, and that contradicted every tale ever told.

"Well, don't you think you need something to entice them with?" He asked, a sly grin on his face. He was positively giddy, how often would he get to be involved in a story as famous as this?

The woman paused, staring at her unfinished house with distaste. "I'm sure we can think of something," she said, waving her arm lazily at the house, adorning it with flowers. She frowned at the result.

"How about... This?" Gabriel said, snapping his fingers, his tone gleeful. The entire house suddenly transfigured, becoming all manner of delectable treat and candy that a child could ever hope for. The sweet toothed angel was writing history here, and no one ever even knew he had a hand in it. It was, quite possibly, one of the most thrilling moments of his life. It sure as hell beat the time he told Mary of her immaculate conception of his half-brother, Jesus.

"Welcome to Storybrooke," Dean said happily as they came into view of the old fashioned wooden welcome sign. "So, it's obviously here." He raised an eyebrow at Sam, who raised one back in return.

"Obviousl- look out!" Sam said, hands automatically grasping the car anyway he could.

At his brother's exclamation, Dean looked back to the road (he'd only glanced away, how quickly could something have appeared there?) and saw a very familiar figure standing in the middle of the street. Castiel. By instinct Dean swerved, and ended up running his precious Baby into the town sign he'd just been observing.

Well, that had not been Castiel's intention. He had to let them know that going beyond that point would render them invisible to him, as the entire area had basically been wiped of the map almost three decades previous. He rushed to the car, his friends now in need, and opened the drivers side door.

The boys were both unconscious, and Sam looked the worse for wear. Dean was unharmed, except perhaps a slight concussion. Cas reached his hand out and placed it to the hunter's temple, only to find his power would not heal him or awaken him. We must be too close, he surmised, looking up at the sign for the invisible town. He squinted his eyes in dislike at it, before teleporting to the nearest human life form he could find.

There were so many things in Neal's life that he'd done wrong; thievery, leaving Emma, been pretty much a horrible person. But the little person that hiked beside him through the woods, his son, was something that had turned out so right. He still had a hard time believing that he had a kid sometimes, since he'd only just met him, but he'd instantly fallen in love with the kid. It was difficult to not let Henry dig his way into your life.

"Are you at the age you like girls yet?" Neal asked as the two walked along, their father and son hike accompanied by lame, parental 'get to know you' questions.

Henry snorted in response. "I'm eleven. I don't even have a chest hair yet." He gave his dad a grin. "But they don't have cooties."

"Yeah, yeah," Neal chuckled, ruffling Henry's hair a bit. He looked back up the hiking trail, startled to see a man in a tab trench coat a few yards away from them, seemingly out of nowhere. The man looked confused, disoriented; perhaps he was lost? And where had he come from? "Hey, buddy, you lost?" He gripped Henry subtly, making sure that he was relatively close in case he needed to grab him and run. With his background, you never could be too cautious.

The stranger turned his startlingly blue eyes toward the pair, their gaze slightly squinting as he took them in. "I am in dire need of your assistance," he started, rather formal sounding. "My friends have been in a car accident on the main road and are unconscious."

Henry jumped out of his father's grasp and began tugging on his arm. "That's not that far! Come on, we have to help them!"

"Henry," Neal said, tugging back against his son and glancing at the newcomer. "Just a sec, we'll call Emma." He looked over the man, not sure if he should trust him. But really, what harm was there in just seeing if there actually had been an accident? It wouldn't be the first time. ...Just the second.

The stranger's face fell. "Please, I am not lying," he said, as though he knew exactly what was going through Neal's head.

Neal looked down at Henry, then sighed, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, and starting to walk in the right direction. "Hey, Emma..."

The spread laid out on the table was definitely fit for a king. Roast goose, potatoes, bacon, and then the sweets, oh my, the sweets; cakes, tarts, puddings, so many flavors. And the pies! Gabriel chuckled to himself at that one, thinking of how jealous the eldest Winchester boy would be.

He tucked in, gorging himself in Trickster fashion, on the closest cake, a delicious looking chocolate. Being an angel, he had the fortune of not getting a stomach ache from so many sugary things, and thusly continued on, to a strawberry angel food cake (giggling the entire time) and then to the pumpkin pie.

It was then that he noticed something about his over-hospitable host. The woman just sat and watched him, a sly smirk trying to hide on the corner of her lips like a secret. Not a drop of food had passed those lips the entire time, and there was enough for an army.

That bitch.

It had taken no time at all for Gabriel to figure out what was going on. How dare she use him, after he willingly helped her build this very house! She was planning on fattening him up like one of those children she loved so much, and then cooking him like that unfortunate goose that sat on the table. He had no objection about the whole stuffing-and-eating-children thing, that was already written in fables and thus was so obviously true. But there was no way in hell she was eating him.

He began to laugh into his pie, the fork he held hanging limply between his fingers before dropping to the nearly empty pie plate with a clang. He placed his head in his hands, and his laughter grew louder, building into quite a roar of mirth. It was unsettling the witch, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat across the room. She stood and took a few steps toward him. "What do you find so funny, darling?" She asked in a tone that betrayed her concern. Concern for herself.

His attitude changed in an instant. One second he was laughing into a plate, the next he was standing, facing her, his chair clattering to the floor loudly, his eyes and expression gone harsh. "Oh, nothing," he snarled in response to her question. "Just you." His nose wrinkled in detestation. "You dare. You dare betray me? I helped you build this place, and then you try to fatten me up like a pig?"

Lightning began to flash outside, a mirror of his rage. As she watched, she grew more scared, of just how powerful this man actually was. Perhaps he was the Dark One! She had no idea what she had tampered with, she should have just enjoyed normal, boring food with him, not attempted to eat him... But he looked so delicious at the time. A mistake she was sure to pay for. She could not tear her eyes away, and he was beginning to glow, his fury burning through his eyes, barely contained under his skin. She cowered, shrinking to the floor, arms wrapped around herself.

It was deafening, the sound that radiated from him, so loud that glasses that sat on the overladen table began to shatter. She covered her ears, but she could still hear the ringing. And her eyes... Her eyes began to bleed, her vision went dark, and her cries of anguish only added to the cacophony of sound screaming through the room.

And then it stopped.

The echoes of the shrieking noises still resonated in her head, and her cries had weakened to a dull, aching sob, her throat raw with pain. And her eyes... Her eyes would never see again.

She flinched when she felt someone - him - touch her shoulder, but she dared not shrink away. "You've been touched by an angel, bitch," he said, and then his footsteps faded away.

"Dean."

His head was throbbing, he did not want to open his eyes, it did not sound good. Were those sirens?

"Dean, wake up."

Fine, he thought, making his eyes open. Those sirens were getting closer. What was going on? His sight was blurry, but it was clearing up quickly. He was confused for a moment, not remembering what had happened, until he looked up and the Storybrooke sign came into focus.

Grabbing onto the nearest person, who he was pretty sure was Cas at this point, Dean pulled himself unsteadily from the car as the ambulance - the blasted sirens - arrived at the scene. He blinked a lot, his vision still not perfect yet, and before he knew it he was being ushered over to the ambulance to be checked out. "Don't bother, I'm fine, I've had worse than a friggin' concussion before, this is cake," he protested to the paramedic.

His eyes raked over the scene, since he was being forced to sit still he might as well make sure he knew the surroundings. Cas stood nearby, looking even more confused than usual, and nearby him, closer to the ambulance than his Baby, was a cluster of people. A blonde woman in a red leather jacket (whose bottom he took a split second to appreciate) facing the car and thusly he could not see her face, a guy around his own age, and a kid, looking at the scene with concern. Besides them, there were just the paramedics, now trying to get Sammy out of the Impala.

Dean clenched his jaw a few times in frustration. This was not how their town entrance was supposed to go. Then again, the town was also supposed to have been much more difficult to find.

Continuing to watch the people, he decided to study the trio that stood a few yards away. The kid obviously belonged to the man, the way his hand was perched on the boy's shoulder so protectively. He couldn't read the woman's face, since she faced the opposite direction, but her pose, hands on her hips, so clearly mapping out the scene in her head as she scanned the area, screamed out 'authority'. Probably police.

Cas was still just staring at the car, looking at it solemnly. "Cas," Dean called out, ignoring the paramedic that bothered him with blankets and flashing a flashlight in his eyes. "What the hell?"

Cas approached, his eyes seemingly stuck in a permanent squint. "I am sorry I made you crash," he said, tactfully low so that the paramedic would not overhear. Hey, he'd actually learned something useful. "I just needed to warn you that this area is virtually invisible to us," he continued, "us" being the heavenly host. "This place has magic that is foreign to this world. It is cloaked and tampers with my 'mojo.'"

"Cas, why do you think we're here?" Dean asked, working hard to keep the growl from his voice.

"I had assumed you were lost."

The hunter gave him a bitch-face, then sighed. "We're on a case, Sherlock."

"I do not like it here," Cas said, looking around with his ever-narrowed eyes. "My power is not at it's fullest, the magic is definitely making me unable to heal you. And I could not identify who I was traveling toward when 'teleporting.'" He made air quotes as he looked back to Dean. "I need to investigate as well."

"Cas, stay here for now-" Dean started, but was cut off by the paramedic that was babying him standing in between the hunter and angel. Once again, the man started double checking Dean's head for further injury. "Dude, come on, it's a friggin' concussion, not the end of the world." He pushed the guy to the side to finish his sentence for Cas, but the angel had already vanished. "Son of a bitch," he growled, crossing his arms moodily.

Sammy was being loaded onto a gurney, and finally Dean got some peace as his own personal paramedic buddy left him alone. The solitude only lasted for a moment before the happy trio he'd been watching minutes earlier approached him. "Howdy, Sheriff," he said, quickly taking note of the badge on the woman's belt. He raised an eyebrow and put on his best flirtatious smile; charming the ladies was usually the easiest thing for him. This sheriff was not one of the usuals.

"Howdy," she replied, the word full of sarcasm.

The kid looked up at her hopefully, and at just a glance from her, he turned and smiled at Dean. "Are you okay, mister? Your weird friend found us on a hike and we called my mom for help."

He couldn't help but grin; though you wouldn't know it by looking at the tough exterior of the hunter, Dean had a soft spot for kids. "Well, I definitely appreciate it, kid. I'm sure my brother will too, when he wakes up."

"Alright, come on, Henry," the man said, ushering his son away. Henry, the kid, frowned, but allowed himself to be steered away.

Dean turned his attention back to the sheriff. "Mom?" he asked, an eyebrow quirks in question. "You don't look old enough to have a kid his age."

She replied with a dry, fake chuckle. "Yeah, well..." She shrugged, then crossed her arms across her chest. "Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?"

Great, the procedural police rhetoric. "Go ahead, shoot."

"What were you and your boyfriend there," she motioned to the gurney that was now rolling their way, "doing to make you crash?"

Why do people always assume...? "That's my brother," he nearly growled.

A smirk crossed the sheriff's lips. "Sorry." The turn of her lips vanished. "Okay, you and your brother. And the other guy-" She stopped, realizing she had no idea where Castiel had gone. "-wherever he went." Her eyebrows furrowed.

Dean opened his mouth, preparing a lie on the spot, but they were ushered out of the way by the paramedics as they wheeled Sam into the ambulance behind Dean. "Excuse us," one of them had the decency to say.

"Look, we need to get my brother to the hospital, so can we finish this up later?" Dean asked, climbing into the back of the vehicle and hunkering down next to the gurney.

"You can count on it," the sheriff said, and then the doors were closed between them.

Authors' note: hello again! We hope you're enjoying our little crack baby here! Less than a week to post a new chapter that's twice as long as the first! I'd say that's good progress!

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Chapter Song: It's Not Me It's You by Skillet