And here's another update! I'm getting really muddled up with the dates at the moment, so don't be surprised if there are any inconsistencies or if they change.

Let me know what you think!

October 9th 2006

Granny's diner was a small place, set just under nine miles outside of the town of Storybrooke. It was quiet most night, only two real regular customers, both of which lived in cabins in the woods. They weren't the friendliest of folk, but they were kind enough to Granny Lucas' and the waitresses of the diner. Other than that the patrons were travellers, people passing through Maine in the need of a caffeine boost and perhaps a bed for the night in the motel Granny owned across the parking lot.

Over all, it was a great place from Emma to lay low. After living with Bobby for just under two years, Emma had decided it was time to go it alone, to finally hunt by herself. She'd one well by herself, she thought. She'd taken out a nest of vampires in a small ton in Virginia, a vengeful spirit at a school and even a couple of werewolves who were skulking around California. But after a year of hunting alone, she'd decided she was ready to go back to where it had all began.

What had started out as a simple enough case, Emma having already identified the spirit who was haunting the freeway outside of Storybrooke having been attacked by it twice in her lifetime already. All that was left for her to do was salt and burn Regina Mill's remains and the death of her parents would be avenged and she could choose to go about her life as normally, or as obscurely as she wished.

And yet, here she was, two months after getting into Maine, still working at Granny Lucas' diner, befriending the locals and even living there. Well, strictly speaking, Emma lived in her car. It wasn't the worst place she'd ever slept, and she had everything she could possibly need. Granny had offered her a room at the motel, of course, but Emma had been so sure she wouldn't be sticking around that she refused the old woman's 'charity'. Granny had looked ready to drag Emma into one of the rooms and lock her inside for weeks, but her granddaughter, Ruby, who was a similar age to Emma had stepped in, saying that Emma could use the facilities above the diner where she and her grandmother lived and call it even there. She'd not been thrilled about it, but Granny had agreed.

It took perhaps two weeks of living with the Lucas' and a hell of a lot of research for Emma to figure out there was something different about the family who so welcomingly opened their home to the lowly orphan girl. It took another two of hunting until she realised that the werewolves she was currently sharing a diner with were not quite the same as those in the journal Bobby had gifted her. After the first body had been found in the forest, Emma had begun her investigation just as Bobby had taught her. She found the patterns fast – bodies left mauled in the forest along with the alignment to the lunar cycle – and everything fell into place.

That was until Emma had attempted to shoot Ruby with a silver bullet. Needless to say, it hadn't worked as intended, leaving Ruby with nothing more than an open wound on her upper arm and daggers in her eyes. It also hadn't gone down well, meaning that Granny had pulled a crossbow on her as Emma held her pistol at eye level, ready to take them out with a single click.

Bleeding and slightly pissed off, Ruby had been the one to diffuse the situation, explaining how she wasn't like the werewolves Emma knew. She wasn't a random monster born from tooth and claw. Ruby was born a wolf. her grandmother having passed the gene through generations, and she'd die one too. It wasn't something that could be cured, Emma knew, but after years of practice, it seemed it could be controlled on a diet of animal hearts and a lot of calming thoughts.

After what felt like hours, Emma had lowered her gun and Granny had let her crossbow fall onto the table. A very long conversation ensued that, Emma explaining that her name wasn't, in fact, Leia, and that she'd become a hunter to avenge the death of her parents but had become sidelined by the werewolf problem in the woods. The road wasn't easy from then on out, but a sense of trust began to build between the wolves and the hunter. Emma was happy to mislead any hunters that came sniffing around the diner because of mysterious deaths and the case Emma was working on, and in turn Ruby and Granny allowed her to stay. Hell, Emma and Ruby even became something akin to friends. The age gap between them was tiny and they both stood on the outside of the ordinary world looking in. It was an odd friendship. But a friendship nonetheless.

After weeks of days working in the diner and nights contacting anyone and everyone she could find that had contact with John Winchester, Emma wound up with something she was beginning to lose hope in finding. A phone number. It wasn't much, that was for sure, but with the tracking she was able to do, she knew it was still in use. That seemed like enough. She'd thought a couple of years ago, when she was living with Bobby Singer, that he'd just train her to hunt and pass over John Winchester's number, no problems. She had been very wrong. The last time Bobby had even spoken to John Winchester hadn't been pleasant, and ended with the usually kind man pulling a buck shot on him. Emma didn't ask for details and Bobby didn't seem ready to give him. All he did say was that he'd protect the Winchester's, even if Emma didn't mean any harm. Emma may never have had a family, but she understood the need to protect those you loved. She could respect Bobby for that.

But now she had a number, a working number, and she didn't hesitate in calling.

Emma was sat in her bug when she finally made the call, her shift having ended over an hour ago. It was weird, she had no real reason to be calling, she doubted John Winchester even remembered who she was. And yet there she was, her phone open, the number blinking and begging to be called on the screen.

"Hello?" A deep voice answered and Emma felt her throat close. There was no good w ay to start this. She could hardly open with 'hi, did you save a baby from a crash site and leave her at a foster home in Portland? Great, that was me.' In fact, she could imagine it being close to problematic. "Hello?" He asked again, more irritably undoubtedly from Emma's radio silence on the opposite end.

"John?" Emma asked rather unnecessarily. There was silence on the other end and Emma found her stomach twisting. She'd thought, for a moment, that he'd hung up, leaving Emma guessing once more.

"Who's asking?" The voice said and Emma felt her breath ghost out, her hand running over her face as she fought for the words.

"My name's Emma Swan." She said, not that he'd recognise the name at all, but introductions seemed necessary. "I need you to come and meet me."

"Where?" Emma was shunted slightly by the bluntness of his voice, the agreement Emma could hear despite knowing nothing about her. Emma had learnt in the past years that this line of work was not a trusting one, whatever Emma could expect from John Winchester, she was betting wouldn't be all too pleasant.

"Maine." She said, already digging out diner menu she kept in the glove box of her car and checking over for the address. "I'll text you the address." She said and hung up, no goodbye and nothing else to go on.

"Pack your bags, Sammy." Dean said, knocking on the bathroom door of the motel they were currently staying in, his father's phone still in his hands despite the strange call having ended over five minutes.

"What?" Sam asked, his voice muffled by the running water as Dean collected his duffle from the beneath the bed. "Where are we going?"

"I'll explain on the way!" Dean called back, slipping his father's phone back into the pocket of his jeans in the case that Emma Swan, as she had called herself, should phone again. He had the address, a diner off of freeway in Maine. It was over a day's drive away, but to meet one of his father's contacts, he'd cross oceans. Dean's father may not have been gone long, but Dean found he was grappling at loose threads and tying them together just for a slither of him, afraid he was going to slip away and fall to dust. Dean had once prided himself on being a strong man, but now he was using that strength to hold onto ghosts and it wasn't something to be proud of at all.

"There's been a string of mysterious deaths, one or two a year on the same stretch of road dating back to 1969." Sam said, holding his flashlight just above his shoulder to read the file open in his lap. "The cars crash into the town sign and the bodies are found in a ditch nearby."

"Sounds like a vengeful spirit," Dean said, his eyes on the road. They weren't far from the address now, a half an hour perhaps, and Dean was beginning to hope Sam would get so caught up in the case that he'd stop asking why Dean really wanted to go to Maine, of all places. "Any idea who it is ganking people?"

"There's a list of people who died on that road but it'll take some digging in city files to find the exact spirit," Sam said, closing the file and clicking off his flashlight before stuffing both into the glove compartment. "There's also a string of deaths and disappearances in the woods surrounding the freeway. It could be the same thing or a coincidence."

"No such thing as coincidences, Sammy," Dean said, passing the sign that told them they were nearing Maine.

"So, why don't you tell me why we're going to Maine."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean shrugged off, his jaw clenching slightly as he focused on the road, missing the don't-bullshit-me look Sam was shooting him.

"We just finished the Rakshasa case and suddenly you want to pack up and go to Maine? Where are we even headed, Dean?" He asked.

"I got a call," Dean said, trying to end the subject there. Clearly, he'd forgotten just who his intuitive little brother was. Instead of dropping the subject like Dean had hoped, he urged him on, eyebrows raised expectantly. "It was dad's phone."

"Woah, wait. Dad's phone?" Sam asked, looking at Dean with the same abashed face he often wore when he realised Dean had been keeping secrets. It wasn't a betrayed look, but he hardly looked thrilled either.

"I keep it charged in case one of Dad's old contacts call." He explained, but didn't elaborate.

"And?" Sam pressed, knowing Dean was holding back but not knowing why.

"And someone called."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know, Sam. But she told us – well, Dad – to meet her a diner by the side of a freeway."

"Sounds pretty sketchy." Sam said "Any idea who it could be?"

"Other than her name? No. But we're going to find out."

"Leia," Ruby called from behind the counter, busy passing order tickets through to Granny in the kitchen. "They're yours." She said, pointing to the two men who'd just entered the diner, the glass door dinging shut behind them. From what Emma could tell, they were both handsome men, one of them taller than the other with softly curling brown hair and the other was stockier, his dark hair cropped shorter. One thing Emma certainly noticed – they were considerably over dressed for this diner, or any diner for that matter, with their dark suits and clean white shirts. It was a peculiar sight, that was for sure.

"Welcome to Granny's," Emma said, flashing her bight, customer smile to the two men as they took a seat in the booth closest to the back of the room. "What can I get you?"

"Coffee for me, black," The longer haired one said and the other man agreed, giving Emma one quick once over before looking back to his companion.

"Coming right up," She said, pushing her glasses a little further up her nose before turning and walking away. Emma had barely made it back to the counter before she heard the two men begin their conversation behind her.

"So, who do you think it was that called?"

"No idea. All I know is that it was some chic calling looking for dad." Emma was pretty sure it was the short one talking, his voice far deeper and gravellier than the other man's. He also sounded considerably more aggravated. "But since she doesn't seem to be making herself known, let's focus on our haunted freeway and the othe r deaths happening around here. Any leads?"

"The reports say they bodies were shredded. Like they were torn apart – mauled almost by –"

"Some kind of animal."

"You know it's rude to eavesdrop," Emma started slightly at the sound, Ruby's hip bumping against her own as she slid the coffee pot in front of her. "No matter how handsome they are."

"Careful, Ruby," Emma said, grasping the pot by the handle. "I'd rather not trip over your tongue dragging along the floor." She only narrowly dodged as Ruby swatted her arm before she was walking back towards the two men. It hardly escaped her notice that any conversation the boys were having in hushed whispers silenced when she was in earshot. "here's your coffee," She said, filling up their mugs while they stayed quiet.

"Thanks," one of them said, the one with the longer hair and kinder eyes.

"Yeah, thanks, darling," The other one chimed in, even going so far as to wink up at Emma. It wasn't anything she wasn't used to. When you worked long hours at a diner on the road it was customary to have at least some lurking locals, perhaps even a stranger or two that fancied giving you the eye. Needless to say Emma didn't stick around long enough for him to say anything more.

" Dean, are you sure?" She heard the longer haired one ask. It wasn't exactly hard to hear them, the diner pretty much empty besides th e two men, a couple of truckers sat at the bar and a man who lived in the woods. He was nice enough, Emma thought, and he tipped well. " There's no mention of hearts in the papers, we can't be sure it's wolves."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm sure that pretty little waitress will know something," And then he was standing and sauntering his way over to the bar where Emma and Ruby stood. If she was being honest, Emma wasn't sure whether she should be offended or relieved that Dean, as he was apparently called, was speaking about Ruby and not her. "Good evening, Ma'am," He said, rifling in his pocket before pulling out an ID badge and flashing it to Ruby who looked anything but impressed. "Agent White, do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"I'll leave you to it," Emma said with a smile, watching as the other man, the still nameless one, finished off the rest of his coffee. She could see him flipping through his phone as she got closer, but he looked far from interested in whatever he was reading. "Can I top you up?" Emma asked, standing beside his table.

"Oh, uh, sure," The man said, pushing his mug towards her so she could refill it.

"So, you both FBI?" Emma asked, being nosier than perhaps a normal waitress would be. It wasn't that she was rude, she just didn't for a second believe that the other man was FBI, her super power screaming in her ear with every word he said.

"Yeah. Agent Pinkman," he said, even reaching into his own blazer for his badge, no doubt.

"No need," Emma said, holding her hand up to stop him. "I believe you," even she could feel her lie behind her sickly sweet smile. "What brings the FBI to our little piece of the world?" She asked, even going so far as the lean against the table. Playing local was easy, it made Emma seem far more welcoming than she was. Hell, she spent most of the time irritated by herself whenever she put on the doe eyes and generous smile.

"Have you heard about the recent deaths around here. The disappearances?" 'Agent Pinkman' asked, clasping his hands together on the table, making him look far more professional than when he'd been sat alone. Emma couldn't help but wonder if the other women fell for this, if all the needed was the flash of a badge for them to spill all their dirty little secrets. But Emma had grown up with liars, she'd learnt from them. It was hard to lie with the wolves and not learn how to bite back. "Four bodies found in the forest and reports of an animal attack?" It hadn't taken Emma long to learn that the best way to get someone to lower their guard was to play dumb. Who knows what they might let slip if they think you've no idea what they're talking about. But, by the sounds of it, these boys were looking into the case she herself was working on, and so derailing their investigation would probably be her best move. "Nothing? Not in the papers or on the news?"

"I don't watch the news." Emma said loosely. She could already see the exasperation on 'Agent Pinkman's' face, but he was trying to stay polite. All part of the façade, she guessed.

"No talk around this diner about people going missing?" He asked again, but Emma just shrugged.

"I've learnt not to listen to the locals," Emma said again, even smiling for good measure. "Here you find all kinds of crazy. UFO enthusiasts, lonely old guys, conspiracy theorists." She said with a nod to the old guy by the window. The agent followed her line of sight but didn't seem too convinced. In fact, Emma couldn't even tell by the narrowing of Agent Pinkman's eyes if he was annoyed or suspicious, either one wouldn't be that fun, but Emma was sure she could handle what this man had to throw at her. "Me, I'm just a waitress." She said, turning to go back to the counter where Ruby was still chatting away to Agent White.

"And what kind of a waitress needs a gun in her apron?" She felt her steps freeze as the smug smile passed over Pinkman's face. He was good, she had to admit. He could probably pass for a real Fed if he tried hard enough.

"The kind who's running from something," Emma replied allowing herself a smug little smile of her own. He may be good, but Emma had spent the past few years lying her way across the state, she barely even knew what was true about herself anymore.

"Like what?" He asked her. She'd clearly peaked his interest. It wasn't a proper gun, at least not as far as ammo was concerned. But Emma had come back to this town for one reason, and that was to take out the spirit who had killed her parents. Keeping a little rock salt on hand was nothing short of common sense. Bobby Singer had taught her that. "A bad boyfriend? The police?"

"So much worse," She said with a sweet smile, knowing she was infuriating this man. It hadn't taken her long to make the connection between the two men either. They may have different builds and facial structure, but their eyes were a similar shade of green, their hair the same soft brown that was hard to notice when one wore theirs so short. Whoever these two really were, they weren't partners, not with their friendly exasperation and overall familiarity. And judging by the flirty drawl in the other 'Agent' voice as he spoke ti Ruby, they certainly weren't lovers, which left one explanation. They were brothers, and close ones at that. "Tell your brother he's not going to get too far with Ruby." She added, nodding toward where Ruby was smiling at Dean in a way that looked like a half snarl, her white teeth showing and her eyes burning. "She's a bit of a man eater." And then she left, leaving whoever Agent Pinkman really was alone at his table and reaching the counter in time to hear 'Agent White' say his goodbyes.

"Well, thank you for your help. You've done your country a service," Dean said with a forced smile, the eyes he shared with his brother crinkling too much at the corners and his lips pressing together too thinly for it to have been sincere.

"Any time, Agent," Ruby said, her voice low as she waved the agent off, sending him back to his table where his dumbfounded brother was waiting. "We need to talk." She said lowly as she passed Emma, her voice warning as their arms scraped against one another. Whatever it was, something told Emma it wasn't great.

"Did you get anything from the man eating waitress?" Sam asked as Dean slid back into the booth opposite him, his face scrunching as he took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee.

"Man eating?" Dean asked, the same incredulity in his voice that he had whenever a woman resisted his so called charm.

"Just something the other waitress said," Sam brushed off, but Dean kept his eyebrow raised in question.

"Anyway, she said that she hadn't heard anything unusual about deaths and that people went missing around these parts all the time," Dean said with annoyance. Either the waitress truly was that sheltered to the world outside of this diner or, more likely, she was hiding something.

"Funny. The other waitress, Leia, she said the same kind of thing." He said, remembering the offhanded answers and the seemingly clueless responses. There was something strange going on here, stranger than usual at least. They maybe outside of it, but a small town like Storybrooke was the type of town where gossip moved fast, it should have reached the diner and the waitresses should know something .

"So, they're both lying?" Sam could tell that Dean was far from impressed with this job but more importantly, he was getting very intrigued by the two waitresses who lived, supposedly, in their own little bubble. "That's just great."

"There's something else," Sam continued, thinking back on his conversation with Leia, the confidence in her stance and the hunger for details in her eyes. She was smart, Sam could guess that much, but he couldn't figure for the life of him just what it was she wanted to know. "Leia, she had a gun in her apron,"

"What? A young woman can't protect herself?" Dean offered, jumping for once to a logical reasoning. Sam had thought of that, of course, but the way the woman had spoken to him, joking that she was running from something, it didn't add up. A woman owning a gun was far from unusual, but keeping one on hand, in her workplace in such a small town of all places, it wasn't right – something wasn't right.

"Sure, but do they need it in their apron?" Sam reasoned, but Dean still seemed all too convinced. "Where she works is quite possibly the quietest diner I've ever seen."

"So, she's defensive," Dean said, pushing his mug away from him after having taken yet another unpleasant sip of cold coffee. "Or perhaps she's paranoid."

"She said she was running from something,"

"Like the police?" Dean asked and Sam couldn't blame him. They were here to look for whatever was killing and or taking people in the woods and for the spirit haunting the highway. An over protective waitress with her own firearms was hardly the top of his agenda.

"She said it was something worse." Dean raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything else. "I don't know, man, something isn't right about her."

"Tell you what, I'll look into it," Dean said, already moving to get out of the booth. "But if we ask anything else tonight we're gonna freak out the locals." He said, nodding his head towards the exit as he threw a couple of bills down to cover the coffee he didn't even drink. "Let's check in the motel out back and come back in the morning."

"Alright," Sam agreed, following his brothers lead and waving a quick, curt goodbye to the waitresses behind the counter before making their leave out into the chilly air of the parking lot.

Once the two 'FBI Agents' had made it clear they weren't coming back, Emma and Ruby began closing up the diner, a job that usually began with shooing out the locals from their perches which, unsurprisingly, took some time. Small town people were stubborn, and this was coming from a woman who'd been eating the same lunch of grilled cheese and onion rings since she'd been able to cook.

"So, what did the fed ask you?" Emma asked as she and Ruby finished closing up the diner. By closing up, of course, Emma meant that she wiped down the tables and stacked up the stools while Ruby sat atop the counter shouting through to her grandmother in the kitchen and banging her feet against the counter as she swung her legs.

"He was snooping about the disappearances." Ruby said, her voice slightly anxious as she peered through the windows to the empty parking lot outside. Most of the lights inside of the diner were off and it was well past two in the morning anyway, but it was hard to believe you were alone when there were two people snooping around. "He doesn't seem to think it was an animal attack,"

"So, what? He's investigating a murder?" Emma asked, throwing her dishcloth at Ruby in the hopes the woman might do some damn work. As it happened, Ruby's reflexes were far too good and the girl simply ducked out of the way. Whatever Ruby was, it was definitely something else.

"No idea," Ruby shrugged slightly, lifting the edge of her shirt sleeve to reveal Granny's bandage work. Emma was impressed by how quickly Ruby was able to forgive her for shooting – and hitting – her. Not that Emma had been in the situation, but had someone shot her, she would be nothing short of resentful. But perhaps that was just her and her much faster werewolf healing. Although, a silver bullet must have smarted a little. "but if you ask me, he seemed like someone from our side of the fence," She said and Emma caught on immediately. Even Granny's ears seemed to perk up at the prospect.

They'd had hunters stop by before, men dressed in tatty jeans and body warmers who thought they could gather their intel with a little smooth talk and the offer of a great night. It was easy to send them on their way with a quick bat of her eyelashes and an idle threat. But these guys were something new. Impersonating federal agents, that was definitely something for the history books, or perhaps the hunters guide book should there ever be one written. It also seemed very much like something Emma remembered Bobby Singer doing.

"We knew more hunters would come," Emma reasoned. She'd spent weeks trying to track whatever it was, gaining whatever information she could from the regulars, but she was coming up entirely short. Ruby had been her best lead, but that had been a serious dead end. There were still people dying, their bodies torn apart or not found at all and Emma was seriously beginning to doubt her decisions to drive others away. But if it meant protecting Ruby and her grandmother, she didn't quite see another choice. "We can drive them away, just like the others,"

"He seemed pretty persistent," Ruby said, probing at her fast healing wound, her wolf-like tendencies kicking in fast. "I don't think these guys are going to just leave."

"Then I'll have to solve this thing before they do." She said, her mind already running through all the possibilities. It was true that the death happened mostly around the full moon, but the disappearances just didn't match up. It was possible there was more than one beast lurking in the dark of Storybrooke forest, but the likelihood seemed far too slim, especially with the spirit of Regina Mills still haunting the stretch of freeway. Storybrooke may seem welcoming in the day, but it was a cesspit for supernatural activity, fit to bursting with monsters lurking in the dark. "What did you say this agent's name was?" Emma asked, her mind already reeling from the number of possibilities.

"Agent White," Ruby said offhandedly, even going so far as to scoff at the name. But Emma found the name anything but amusing. "Walter White." That was it then, Emma left the diner in a rush, hightailing over to her car with a whole new barrel of questions nagging at her already fit to bursting mind.