Dean

Dean's eyes creak open, his body cushioned in a bed. Thin sheets cover his body and the room is mostly white. The sound of a heart monitor beeps in his ears and he automatically knows that he's in a hospital.

What the hell?! He thinks, jerking up in the bed and is greeted by soreness in his muscles.

Memories flood into him, making him remember about the day before: the car crash, the people, Henry's outrageous story about the town, Emma, Sam.

A heavy feeling settles over Dean's chest, torturing him with guilt. He could have helped him. He could have killed the thing that took Sam. And if he couldn't, he could've gone with Sam. Heck, he would be helping him escape right now. Whether it would be him taking action or just making plans. Now, all he's doing is wondering where his little brother could be.

He sighs, lying back down on the bed he closes his eyes. Then the sound of the door opening draws his attention away from his guilt. He opens his eyes to see Henry bounding in with a young woman in red that he saw yesterday.

"Hi, Dean," Henry greets, taking a seat in the visitor's chair.

"Hey, Henry," Dean says with a faint smile, turning his head in the pillow to see him. The girl grabs another chair from the other bed and sits down next to Henry.

"Hey," she says, taking out a hand to shake. Dean shakes it, ignoring his soreness. "I'm Ruby."

"I'm Dean," he says, giving her hand a shake.

"So, Dean, could finish the story about Bloody Mary?" Henry asks. Ruby furrows her brows at that, giving Dean a curious look.

Dean chuckles, feeling a bit nervous telling these stories with Ruby around. "Um, sure. Where was I?"

"The names in the back of the mirrors," Henry says, jumping up and down in his seat in anticipation.

"Oh, um, yeah…" Dean says, trying to remember what happened.

Dean tells as much as he can, trying not to be so detailed about it but enough to let Henry know what's going on. Of course he didn't tell Henry about the man killing his own wife, God only knows what that'll do to his head, but he tells him the name of the woman and leaves out the last name. Even though he only tries to keep his attention on Henry, he can't help but notice Ruby's eyes in his peripheral vision. He feels them like lasers.

Just when he gets to explaining about how he discovered that the so called "Bloody Mary" was Mary Worthington when the door opened again.

He stops talking, looking up and seeing Emma at the door, her frown set just a bit deeper her face than usual and she looks pissed off.

Her eyes land on Henry and go back to Dean, raising an eyebrow. He could tell she's annoyed that Henry keeps coming to him even though he's only been here for two days. Dean smirks, finding her annoyance a bit entertaining.

"Well, hello sheriff. What brings you here today?" he asks.

Ruby looks between the two and Emma sighs, looking at Ruby. "Could you and Henry give us a second?"

Ruby nods, opening her mouth to say something but she seems to think twice and shuts it. "Oh, okay. All right. C'mon Henry. Let's go."

Ruby takes Henry's wrist, hurrying out the door. Henry looks back at Dean with worried eyes.

"Goodbye, Dean!" he manages to say right when Ruby closes the door.

Dean's eyes turn to Emma who stands at the door. He raises his brows expectantly. She sighs, stepping toward his bed until she stands at the foot of it. Uneasiness sets in, making him wonder what's gonna come. He won't be surprised if this is some sort of demon attack.

A nurse walks into the door, her steps faltering a bit when she sees Emma and Dean in a stare down but Emma gives her a reassuring smile, letting her keep on walking. She brings Dean his breakfast and sets it on the tray in front of Dean. After a little thank you, she leaves. Both Dean and Emma watch her leave, waiting until the door quietly shuts behind her and then look at each other.

"So, to what do I owe this pleasant visit to?" he asks as he lifts the lid of his meal, testing her patience. The silence barely seems to be getting to her. What will sarcasm do?

"Cut the act. Who the hell are you?" She snaps, her voice feeling like the clean edge of a sharp, new dagger. He smirks. He actually feels a bit intimidated. He likes this chick.

He grabs a small packet of honey and rips it open, pouring it over some French toast. He cuts off a piece with the plastic knife and stuffs it into his mouth as he looks back up at Emma, a bit amused at seeing her so impatient. He chews slowly, swallowing and sighing then gulps down his juice. He's been through this crap a million times. He's never really been fazed by it. This isn't any different.

After swallowing, he sets the cup down.

"I question what you mean by 'who the hell are you'," he says, lacing his fingers together and leaning back, ignoring the pain of his stitches on his abdomen.

She takes something out of her back pocket. She throws them at him one by one, each one landing on his lap.

The things were I.D. cards. Six of them. One was his FBI I.D., another is an antiques dealer, one other one a police department I.D.

She checked his car?

"So, you looked for my brother in the car? Smart, Emma. Very smart," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Cut the crap, Dean," she says more firmly. "Who the-hell are you?" she repeats, her voice so cold that Dean shudders.

He stares at the wall across him, eyeing the plain, blue-gray surface. If sarcasm doesn't help, he's gonna have to try something else.

He sighs, looking at her, trying to make sure that his expression is neither impressed or amused just so she wouldn't think that anything he's about to say is bullshit.

"Okay. Multiple I.D.'s. You caught me," he says. "I'm lying about my name. Does that really change the fact that my brother's missing?"

"Dean, this is practically stealing an identity. If you lied about this, what else have you lied about—" she says.

"Yeah, what have I lied about?" he cuts in.

She narrows her eyes. "How should I know?"

"Oh, I think you know perfectly how," he says.

She straightens a bit but her expression gives nothing away. Dean knows that he has her though.

"Yeah, I've been hanging out with the kid, Henry, if you haven't noticed. He told me about your 'super power'," he says.

Dean watches as she swallows. He leans closer, looking her in the eye and daring her to contradict him.

"Have I been lying?" he asks.

Emma stares at him, her glare burning holes through his head. Her jaw clenches as she reluctantly shakes her head. Dean smirks, knowing he has her cornered.

"If you look like you've got something dirty in your mind, your ass is going to jail," she finally says as she walks away, her glare never faltering. "I'll go print out pictures of your brother and have search parties out in the forest. After we find your brother, your ass better be out of town by the next day, you got it?" She points to the door for emphasis.

Dean nods, smirking. "You got it, sweetheart."

Emma flinches at the name. "Don't call me that."

"And why not?" he dares to ask.

Emma pulls out her gun, patting the butt of it.

"Because if you do call me that one more time, this will be the death of you," she explains, calm but it's clear that she will.

She places it back in its holster and turns, stepping out of the room.

Dean smirks, making up his mind. He doesn't just like this chick. He really likes this chick.