So this chapter is a little longer to compensate for my lack of updates (Sorry) but if you're having Swanchester withdrawal, feel free to check out my other story New York City Sacrifice, especially if you want some Dean and Henry father-son moments.

Anyway, let me know what you think.


The sheriff of the little town of Storybrooke, as it turned out, was an old friend of Emma's. He was an Irish man, not that much older than Dean was but with far superior stubble and much kinder eyes. He also didn't seem to have too much of an issue with allowing Emma to read over the reports of the 'animal attacks', while Sam and Dean were forced to sit in the Impala and wait for her like two kids waiting for their mother to come out of the supermarket. Only instead of hoping for sweets, they were hoping for a death certificate or two, maybe even a missing persons report.

"Seven deaths and two missing person reports," Emma announced proudly, climbing into the back seat of the Impala after half an hour of supposed searching, her arms full of files. "The most recent guy to go missing was Tom Clark, he ran the pharmacy in town and hasn't been seen since last Thursday. Graham said they're looking for a body now." She continued, passing the files between the two front seats for Sam to take while Dean started up the engine again. "The other guy before that was Archibald Hopper, the town's shrink," She said, picking out his missing persons report from her pile of loose paper. "He went to walk his dog Tuesday before last. The dog came home and he didn't,"

"How come he let you take these?" Sam asked, flipping open Archibald's file, the bespectacled red haired man smiling up at him from the photo with his dalmatian by his side. "Without a badge, Sheriff's don't usually let people take their -" He broke off then, looking in the review mirror at Emma, a small smile on his face. "You stole these, didn't you?"

"You have to meet the police somehow," She said with a shrug, returning to the files in her lap. "The last body they found was just before you guys turned up. A woman called Kathryn Griffith. Her body was found in the woods without her heart."

"So, it's definitely a wolf attack?" Sam said, Emma nodding her agreement. "All we have to do is find it," He said, shutting the files, thinking of where a wolf would be hiding. The entire town was surrounded by forest, the ideal place for a wolf to be hiding once it had transformed, but it had to be somewhere when it was still human. And with most of the deaths occurring around the diner, it was hard to pinpoint just where the wolf could have come from. It was unlikely for it to travel all those miles up the road to attack people in the diner, but Sam hadn't seen anywhere else a person could have been living nearby. "Are there any houses near the diner?" He asked and Emma shook her head.

"Not occupied ones," she said, remembering the abandoned cottage settled in the woods, presumably once owned by a farmer or a wood carver or some other reclusive weirdo. "There are cabins, though," She said, the cogs beginning to whir in her own mind. "There's got to be about five of them out there, kind of like holiday homes for people in the town,"

"So, we figure out who's they are and then -" Dean said, looking to Sam. He was still not entirely comfortable working the case with Emma, but short of tying Ruby down until she could prove she wasn't killing people, he wasn't seeing anther option. Emma had been in that diner for weeks picking up little pieces of gossip to try and solve this case, if anyone could help them get it finished, it was her.

"We ask them to let us look around," Sam finished. "Werewolves aren't subtle. They leave traces, claw marks, blood, ripped clothing -"

"Hearts." Emma added and Sam nodded his agreement. "So, if there's a wolf in one of those cabins, we'll know,"

"Exactly,"

"And how are we going to get into these cabins?"

Emma was used to the whole fake ID stunt, she'd played that card enough times herself, but there was something different about doing it here. Whether it was because she was doing it with company or because the people in the cabins tended to know who she was, she wasn't sure.

The plan itself was simple, Sam and Dean would introduce themselves are rangers, flash an ID badge and claim they were checking the cabins for anyway an animal could get in. Meanwhile, Emma would creep round the perimeter of the cabin and check for anything out of the ordinary - blood on the window panes or clothing stuck to trees - anything that suggested a wolf.

They made it through four of the apparent six cabins without any signs what-so-ever. Even the weird old man who frequented the diner seemed to have nothing to hide, and he'd been Emma's go-to suspect. The strangest thing he had to offer was a very disgruntled dog with hair that fell over it's beady little eyes. But there was still something off about him, something wrong. Despite his honest words and toothless smile, Emma just couldn't shake the thought that he might be lying – she just didn't know about what.

The last cabin they reached was one that Emma recognised. It belongs to the town's pawnbroker, Robert Gold. It was the largest of them, the wood well tended to and the immaculate windows reflecting the orange of the setting sun. And despite it's beauty, with it's tended flowerbeds and trimmed little pathway, Emma couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that settled around her shoulders. It was almost as though, despite being directly in the sun's sight, the cabin was shrouded in darkness. It made Emma feel uneasy, that was for sure.

"This is Gold's cabin," She said aloud, the pit in her stomach widening as she watched the empty windows, half expecting to see the cold stare of the old man looking back at her.

"Gold?" Dean echoed with a scoff. "Who's that?"

"Storybrooke's pawnbroker," Emma replied, knowing full well that the sleazy man was far more than just a pawnbroker. "He pretty much owns that place,"

"The cabin?" Sam asked and Emma levelled him with a look.

"The town," She said, piping both of the brothers interest. "If anyone had something worth hiding out here, it's him," Even now she could remember all of the deadbeats sat at Granny's bar, each of them moaning about a deal gone wrong with Mr. Gold, or just quick, snipey comments about how the man was shadier than a beach parasol. Emma would hardly be surprised if he ran an entire sweatshop out of his cabin. "He wont be in," Emma said, checking once over each shoulder before making her way up the patio, peeking through one of the darkened windows at the still interior of the cabin.

"What are you -" Sam began, watching as Emma reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out the small, leather bound case she'd kept there for years.

"Just keep watch," She said, pulling out her two most used tools and easing them into the lock.

"Is she picking the – she's picking the lock," Dean said, sounding surprised – or perhaps it was impressed - she couldn't tell. "How exactly do you know how to pick a lock?" Emma threw him a look over her shoulder, still twiddling the tools in her hands tentatively.

"I went to jail for a reason," she said with a slight smile, just as the tumblers clicked into place. "It's all about the tumblers," She said proudly, turning the lock the rest of the way before withdrawing her tools.

"Petty theft," Dean said, pushing the wooden door open with a creak. "Nice." She shot him a glance over her shoulder, something that could just as easily have been translated into a single finger gesture, before standing back up again, brushing the forest dust from her knees.

Gold's cabin, as it happened, was a bust. It wasn't that they didn't find anything incriminating. In fact, it was quite the opposite. But as far as they were concerned, large wads and rolls of cash stashed behind framed photographs and notebooks hidden in locked drawers full of names and dates weren't what they were looking for.

"Any more bright ideas?" Dean asked as they stepped back into the woods, leaving the dark, unnerving cabin as untouched as they could mange while rummaging through Gold's belongings.

"Maybe we missed one?" Sam offered, but Emma was already shaking her head.

"No, they were all marked on that map," She said, remembering how she'd managed to sneak the map of the woods from Graham's office along with the rest of the files. "We're missing something,"

"Maybe it's not a cabin," Sam said, and Emma felt as the cogs began to click and whirr in her mind.

"The mines," Emma said on a breath, remembering the second map of Storybrooke she had 'borrowed' from Graham. The first one, the one they had used to find the cabins, mapped out the top layer of the town, the street names and buildings from the docks to the town line, but the second one was something else entirely. It wasn't labelled, and Emma had never quite been able to line it up to the map of Storybrooke, but she knew there was a grid of mine tunnels that ran under the town from her weeks of research. Most of the entrances were closed off or had already collapsed, but there was one she could remember. There was one in the woods.

Sam and Dean didn't need telling twice. Once Emma had explained the abandoned mines, they were ready to go.

The entrance wasn't as close as Emma had hoped and by the time they'd found it, night had already fallen, leaving them with nothing but flashlight beams.

"Do I need to remind you what happened the last time we wandered into an abandoned mine?" Sam said as they eyed the opening. It wasn't as obvious as Emma had expected, years of being left unused leaving it half hidden beneath the foliage, and the wooden structures that held up the ceiling and fragile walls were years past their best. And here she was, ready to wander in with two men she hardly knew.

"We were chased by a wendigo," Dean said as though it was perfectly normal conversation. Emma was knew to hunting, but she knew the legends of wendigos, and she knew they were far from pleasant.

"Exactly,"

"You can wait out here if you like," Dean added, receiving a half-scolding look from his brother. "Great, then let's go catch ourselves a wolf,"

If the overwhelming stench of damp and rot was anything to g by, Emma was betting they were in the right place.

"So, are we looking for a wolf, or someone who turns into one?" She asked in the darkness, the beam of her flashlight shining up and down the water logged walls. It wasn't sufficient light by any means, the beam barely enough to illuminate where she was stepping, let along the vast tunnel in front of her.

"Depends how pissed off it is," Dean replied from somewhere behind her, his voice bouncing off of the walls in an echo that made his voice implacable.

They lapsed into silence once more after that, nothing but the sound of their own footsteps bouncing off of the walls and a distant echoing drip of water form somewhere deep in the mines. That was, at least, until Emma heard something else, something living and far from at home in the dank underground. She froze, holding her breath as she listened, her torch hand unmoving as she listened.

"You hear that?" Sam asked into the silence, his voice by Emma's left ear. She nodded despite the darkness, her eyes straining against the poor light.

"Someone's crying," Emma answered, swinging her torch beam slightly to the right, followed quickly by both Sam and Dean's. There was a fork in the tunnels ahead of them and the crying was echoing from inside one of them. The only question was which. "You guys take the left," Emma said, already beginning walking. She'd barely made it two steps before she felt a snag at her arm, spinning her around so that she faced the two brothers again.

"You ain't going down there alone," Dean said matter-of-factly, his torch shinning down at her face while Sam's illuminated the tunnel before them, no doubt keeping watch for any monsters lurking in the darkness. Emma hadn't realised just how long they'd been walking until she noticed that the light at the end of the tunnel was not so much a light as it was a firefly, something she needed to squint at to see properly, especially since she'd left her glasses in her car, favouring her contacts if she was going to hunt – less chance of being visually impaired during a fight.

"I'm a big girl," Emma said, yanking her arm free with surprising ease, Dean's grip having been less to hold her still and more to get her attention. "I can handle it, I know what I'm up against,"

"Do you?" Dean asked mockingly "Do you really? Because the way I see it, we've got some jumped-up, pureblood wolf out there with Hulk strength against some girl with a 9mm," He was patronising her and it took most of the willpower Emma had not to point the apprently oh-so-pathetic 9mm in question at his temple. "You're not going alone."

"I don't need a babysitter," Emma snapped, her voice echoing off of the walls enough that she mentally slapped herself. Annoyingly, the crying had stopped, but there were only two places it could be coming from and Emma was determined to go and find the source.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Dean replied, his slightly mocking smile visible in the poor light even now. "Now, I'm gonna head down the left one," He said, nodding his head at the right tunnel. "You and Sammy here," He said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "Can take the right."

"You're a real piece of work," Emma said, leaving no room to argue before turning on her heel and heading into the tunnel, her flashlight doing very little to guide the way for her. She could hear the brothers talking behind her, but didn't wait for them, following the tunnel as it curved slightly, flashing her light for any signs of alcoves or other breakaway tunnels. She was met by nothing but wooden lined walls.

"Hey, wait up," She heard Sam call over her shoulder, but judging by the volume of his footfalls against the gravelled floor, he wasn't far behind her.

"You're brother's a jerk," She said once she felt Sam beside her, his shoulder nudging hers as his flashlight joined her own.

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a slight chuckle and Emma could just here the 'but' on the end of his sentence. "But he's just trying to do the right thing," There it was.

"So you're saying he's a crappy guy but his hearts in the right place?" Emma scoffed, not taking her eyes off of the tunnel, even when she heard Sam sigh beside her.

"I'm saying he's not doing so well," Sam said honestly and Emma remembered their chat in the diner that morning. Their father had just died, and no matter what kind of life you lead, that had to leave a wound. Wounds like that, though, left unattended for long enough began to fester. Dean didn't strike Emma as the type to stop a cleanse his wounds. "Our dad – he and Dean were close."

"And you weren't?" Emma asked because she could, not thinking about whether or not she should. She had a habit of stepping on peoples toes, always had and undoubtedly always would. She just couldn't find it in her heart to feel all that bad about it.

"We had moments, I guess," Sam said and Emma knew immediately that he rarely spoke about this. No doubt because being on the road meant he had no one to talk to but Dean, and this was hardly a great topic for discussion. "But Dean half worshipped the guy, always had done,"

"Maybe because he remembers what it's like to lose someone," Emma said and felt, rather saw Sam's eyes on her. "He was old enough to remember losing you mom. He and his dad had that,"

"You sound like you're talking from experience,"

"Observation," Emma clarified. Sure, she'd lost things, things that could never be replaced, but not from fate. Anything lost to Emma was because she had made the choice to let them go. That was, all except for Neal, who had chosen to let her go, leaving her to fall with as much grace and eloquence of a balloon released before the end was tied.

"You're perceptive for a self-proclaimed orphan," Sam said and Emma wondered whether he'd meant it as a compliment. It sounded like one at least. "Wait," he said, stopping suddenly, holding out his arm to halt Emma. The crying had resumed, louder now than it had been, and a damn site closer, too. Emma may not have had Ruby's wolf-like instincts, but she knew straight away that she and Sam had chosen the right tunnel

"This way," Emma said, picking up the muffled sounds of sniffles and sobs somewhere in front of them. She didn't even stop to make sure Sam was following before taking off down the tunnel, her boots crunching on the uneven, stone strewn floor. Had she not stumbled slightly from her toe hitting the edge of the track, Emma would have collided straight into the minecart sat in the tunnel in front of them. The rest of the track had to be buried under years worth of fallen rubble and footsteps, but here it was raised and apparently functional enough to hold a cart.

It took Emma a dumbfounded moment to realise that the mine cart was currently occupied. Both Sam's and her own flashlight beam found the occupant at the same time, huddled terrified in the back corner with her bare knees to her chest and tears tracking down her face.

"Hey, it's alright," Sam said, skirting slightly around the side of the cart. The girl, no older than Emma was herself, flinched at the movement, but made no attempt to flee. Besides, even if she did Emma was fairly certain she could catch her and Sam definitely should. "What's your name?" He asked, extending a hand into the cart. The girl took it gratefully, allowing Sam to help her to stand.

"B-Belle," She said, her eyes wide and afraid in the torchlight. Standing as was inside of the minecart, she came just over Sam's height, making a small, frail little thing, her chocolate brown hair filthy and matted with leaves and sticks, her blue dress anything but presentable with rips and tears, bloody and doscoloured at the edges. Emma could only guess how long she'd been down here, alone and afraid in the dark with nothing to even keep her warm – let alone keep her sane.

"We're going to get you out of here," Sam said gently, retracting his hands from her vice like grip in order to grasp her gently beneath her arms and lift her up and out of the mine cart. With the ease he managed it, as though the girl weighed nothing.

"Here," Emma said, stripping off her leather jacket at the sound of the girls shivers, handing it over to her. She accepted with a small nod and a nervous smile of thanks before slipping her arms through the sleeves and zipping it right up to her throat. "Let's go," Emma said, this time to Sam who didn't hsitate to nod his agreement.

"Wait!" Belle shouted, her arm gripping Emma's now bare skin, her unkempt nails digging into the flesh almost painfully. "We can't, he won't let us."

"Who wont?" Emma asked, not retracting the girls grip, but instead holding her wrist as gentle as she could, a comforting gesture that urged the girl to speak.

"The beast," She said with her quivering little voice. Emma and Sam shared a look, followed by a nod. It was here, and it had a prisoner of some sort. Sam's gun was at the ready, his torch flicking across the narrow tunnel to keep watch. Emma had already tucked her gun back into the waistband of her jeans after finding the girl, leaving her more or less unarmed and with a terrified woman clutching onto her.

"Where is it?" Emma asked, her voice dropping low. If the wolf was a local to the town then they would know these tunnels far better than Sam and Dean, and given that they could change at will, there was no doubt that they'd be able to see far better in the dark than Emma could. She didn't want to even chance it hearing where they were. Belle, however, wasn't answering, her eyes darting from side to side as she looked terrified into the darkness of the tunnels.

"It's coming," She all but whimpered, releasing Emma enough to back up against the wall of the mine, her bare, bloody feet snagging on a piece of cart track so she fell the last few inches.

"Emma," Sam said, not looking at her, too busy keep a watchful eye out for the wolf.

"I know," She replied, slipping her hand around her back in search for her gun. "Belle," She said, crossing the small tunnel and handing the young woman her still illuminated flashlight. "Take this, and when I tell you to, I want you to run that way as fast as you can." She said, pointing down the way she and Sam had come. "You shout for a man named Dean, he's in here too. He'll get you out and take you home." The girl nodded frantically, her feeble hands gripping the flashlight as though it was her only defence against the monster.

The air was bristling, Emma could feel it already. Belle hadn't been wrong. The beast was coming, and he really wasn't far. There was a horrible smell wafting through the tight air of the tunnel, a smell like damp earth and decay clinging to the walls. "Belle, go. Now!" And with a quick glance at Sam, she did, running down the tunnel as fast as her weak legs could carry her. Emma didn't take her eyes away from her until the light of her torch was just a pinprick at the end of the tunnel.

"Why did you send her off alone?" Sam asked, turning to face the opposite end of the tunnel where Belle had run. Clearly, he had began to notice as well as Emma that if the wolf was coming from any direction, it wasn't from the exit. She was only grateful that Sam hadn't argued against her plan.

"Because it's going to go after her," Emma said, receiving a side glance from Sam that was anything but approval. "But to do that it has to get past us and then Dean. That girl is getting out of here whether we do or not."

"That's a win," He said, giving Emma small smile that she was sure was meant to be reassuring. Given their current predicament, it was anything but that.

"It's close," Emma said quietly, "But it's not coming out," Belle had to be out of the tunnel by now, or at least back with Dean, and if he had half the sense his brother did, he'd get the poor girl to safety before he came charging into a fight. Then again, Sam had been the one to say that Dean wasn't quite in his right mind as of late.

"Maybe it went the other way," Sam reasoned, turning his flashlight so it ran up the walls, checking for any sign that the wolf had indeed been there. Emma was just trailing the length of a claw mark when she heard a grumble - a deep, guttural growl from the darkness. Judging by the sudden freeze of Sam's flashlight, he'd heard it too.

"Maybe not," Emma said. She'd barely even had the chance to breathe, let alone raise her gun before the creature lunged, knocking her back against the wall with one hard knock, taking the wind right out of her lungs along with it.

"Emma!" Sam exclaimed, but thankfully, he didn't lower his gun or step towards her, instead firing three rounds at the giant humanoid shape intent on tearing them apart, dropping his flashlight in the process. It rolled slightly on the uneven ground, landing so it's beam was pointed back down the tunnel, it's light just bright enough that Emma could see the tears in her vest, and the blood already soaking though the material.

"Son of a-" She began, clenching her teeth tightly through the sharp pain of the ripped flesh against her ribs, something that was far from imporved by her pressing her hand hard against it to try and stop the blood flow. She had known from experience with both Ruby and a previous case in California that werewolves had claws, and that they knew how to use them, but this was something else. The cuts were deep, not so much that she was immediately worried for her life, but enough that she was worried. BLeeding out in a mineshaft was certainly not the way Emma had thought she'd go.

Lycanthropy was exchanged by bite, but there had been rumours, whispers really, of people able to turn with a scratch, so long as it was deep. That was enough to leave her shaking.

"Hey, Emma. You alright?" Sam dropped down beside her, letting his gun sit beside them as he pulled off his shirt, pressing the rough plaid agaisnt where her hand had previously been.

"I'm fine," She answered, hissing slightly when Sam pressed down. She knew pressure on a wound was necessary, but that far from made it bearable. It was right up there with having wounds stitched, which chances were, she would need as well. "Did you get it?"

"I hit it, that's for sure," He said, moving her hands to hold the plaid. "Can you stand?" SHe nodded, but allowed him to help her up none the less. "If it really was after the girl, then Dean will catch it on the way out."

"Best find him before he get's himself killed then," Sam laughed, at least, slipping his arm around Emma's back to help her walk. She'd not noticed how awkwardly she'd fallen until she'd tried to stand again, her leg having twisted slightly beneath her. It wasn't entirely hindering to her mobility, but boy, did it hurt.

They found Dean waiting for them outside of the mine, one body lying facedown in front of him, and another sat shuddering on the large mossy rock beside him.

"What took you so long?" He said, checking the load in his gun the same way somone miht check the rime. It was only has he looked up at the two stumbling their way out of the mine's entrance that the smug smile slipped off of his face, his eyes training instantly to the blood on Emma's shirt. "Holy crap, what happened?" He asked, helping to take the weight off of her other side. After checking Dean was holding her, Sam released Emma's arm, mocving isntead towards Belle sat on the rock, staring down at the still body on the floor not three feet from where she sat with blue eyes full of horror.

"We faced a wolf in the dark with one flashlight," Emma grit her teeth as Dean lowered her surprisingly delicately onto the trunk of a fallen, half hollowed out tree before he began peeling away Sam's no doubt ruined plaid.

"You're gonna need stitching," He said simply, sounding anything but pleased with the predicament. Emma wasn't feeling too hot about it herself. "I told you to look after her," Dean threw over his shoulder, reaching for the knife at his belt to cut away the remnants of Emma's vest from the hem up, stopping half way up her side before he peeled the sodden material away, his face set like stone.

"Honestly, she didn't seem to need it," Sam said, still crouched beside Belle, trying to find out just how she was and where she'd come from. There had been no other missing persons reports, and going by the state of the woman she'd been in that mine for well over seventy-two hours. The sheriff should be combing the woods looking for her. "Where's home?" He asked her as kindly as he could, watching as her eyes scanned the trees, like a deer being chased by a wolf, trembling and afraid of her own shadow should it move too quick.

"I live in a cabin with my father," She said, indicating towards where the boys and Emma had initially approached, the foot prints still visible in the mud. "It's not far."

"I'll take you," Sam offered, pushing himself up fully before extending his hand down. "Come on, it's alright." After some slight hesitation and a frightful look at the man's still body lying in the dust, she accepted, letting Sam lead her off towards the end of the clearing. "I'll be back in a bit,"

"Good, we got a body to bury," Dean answered, barely glancing over his shoulder as his brother left, far too invested with poking and prodding Emma's wounds.

"Who was it?" Emma asked after a tense silence, nodding her head towards the wolves body, his claws still extended and far larger than those of any wolf she'd seen before.

"Oh, er - no idea," Dean said before kicking the corpse, flicking it once in the ribs so it rolled over, it's filthy face turned up towards the sky, dark eyes blank and staring at nothing.

"Gold," Emma said, recognising the man's face even if his body was unrecognisable out of its expensive tailored suits, his face looking somewhat kinder but no less unsettling, even without its signature, smug sneer. "Wait, that girl, she said her father lived in the forest?" Dean was attempting to fix a makeshift bandage of torn cloth around her ribs now, the blood soaked ruins of her ripped vest hanging awkwardly down her side. It wasn't much, but it would do.

"Yeah, what of it?" He asked, making a point of not looking at her face while he spoke.

"Moe, Moe French, his daughter is the town librarian," She said, hearing Dean hum slightly, no doubt because she was babbling without making much sense. "Moe came to the diner a lot, always complaining about Gold skulking around his daughter."

"Wait, you think cute little brunette is the daughter?" Dean asked, tying the bandage off and admiring his handiwork for a moment. "And the wolf was her stalker?" He sounded disbelieving, but Emma figured it was his way of telling her he was in the very least interested in what she had to say.

"But wolves don't take hostages." She thought aloud, already pushing herself – very painfully – to standing. "Not unless they're making a pack," She was already beginning to walk away before, her boots scuffing through the leaves as she fought hard against the pain to pick up her feet, but Dean was a lot faster than she had thought.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean said, holding his hands out, keeping Emma somewhat at bay. "Are you saying that our little beauty is actually a beast?"

"If he sired her then she would have no control when she turned, and if he's like Ruby, then the change is more than just lunar." It was a strange feeling, Emma was beginning to find, working with someone. She could feel as the cogs ticked and whirred not only in her own mind, but in Dean's as well, to notice as the gears slotted together and the realisation illuminated in his eyes like two mirrors to her own.

"And whoever sired her would try and keep her out of the way," Dean said, already checking over his shoulder to where she and Sam had already disappeared through the trees.

"Or else draw attention to themselves." Emma added.

"So, who is it killing people. Beauty or the beast?"

"I think we're about to find out,"


I'll apologise now for any typos. I finished editing the document just as my internet cut out and my cahnges were lost. I was far too lazy to go through it again tonight, but I will as soon as I have the time.

Let me know what you think!