Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural, and I do not own Once Upon a Time.

Emma

Emma grit her teeth against the strain of her concentration. She could feel the light magic coursing through her veins, could feel it pumping under the surface, eager to be utilized. She wanted it so badly. She could practically taste the magic on her tongue, it was ripe for the taking.

Emma sighed, letting her arms drop. Apparently, it's not ripe enough, she thought, hanging her head.

"You'll get it," Dean consoled awkwardly, holding his arms slightly out from his sides, as if unsure of what to do with them. Emma narrowed her eyes; she was still unsure about what to do with him.

When he'd made his declaration about his job, Emma had believed him. And it unnerved her. Because although her internal lie detector hadn't told her he was lying, that could just mean he wasn't lying because he thought wholeheartedly it was the truth. While Emma hadn't pegged Dean as the crazy sort, it was too soon in their acquaintanceship to rule it out as an option.

The problem was, Emma had no reason to doubt Dean's word. She'd experienced magic, and wraiths, and werewolves in this world. She'd seen mermaids and fairies, giants and ogres in Neverland and the Enchanted Forest; why was it so difficult for her to accept that Dean and his brother/father (which sounded strange even to Emma, whose son was also her adopted step-uncle, and was shared with Emma's step-grandmother, Henry's step-great-grandmother/adopted mother) made their living hunting and killing these things?

Emma realized why a moment later; she'd grown up in this world, and until shortly after her twenty-eighth birthday, she never would have even guessed at these things existing. To live that long with the wool thrown over her eyes...it was disconcerting to say the least. And it made Emma want pretend that he was lying, just so she could rest easy with a false sense of security.

But that wasn't the way Emma wanted to live, so she decided that she would have to suck things up and deal with this like an adult.

"Thanks," Emma responded a beat too late. "As frustrating as this is, I don't think magic will be the answer to our problems."

"Magic?" Sam asked in the doorway.

Emma whipped her head up, and saw Dean do the same. How had they not heard Sam enter the room?

He seemed mercifully oblivious to the conversation at hand, however. "Dinner time," he announced, smiling.

Dinner looked fairly unappetizing. Sam's dinners usually are, fake-Emma piped up at the back of Emma's mind.

Emma felt a small pain bursting at the front of her mind. Slowly, she stood and followed Dean and Sam back down the hallway, hoping that the pain would dissipate. Unfortunately, it only got worse.

"So, Emma, what were you and Dean working on that involved magic?" Sam asked with a little smirk, after having served everyone seated.

It was a four-person table, with Dean across from Emma, Cas to her right and Sam to her left. Emma kept sneaking glances at Sam, then Dean, and noticed that there definitely was a resemblance there. Dean's eyes were pure green, and Sam's were bright green diluted with brown. No less striking, however; Sam's eyes seemed inherently softer. They had roughly the same jaw line, square but angled. They were both freakishly tall—of course, Emma was slightly biased, seeing as she didn't top five and a half feet—and had sturdy builds. The resemblance could go either way as brother or father.

"Ah," Emma stuttered, attempting to think of something and coming up blank. "We just, uh, figured that…"

Luckily, Dean saved her. "We're working on a history project together, involves magic." He met Emma's eyes across the table, and Emma found herself lost in his gaze. He had such deep green eyes, with little hints of golden color, framed with thick blonde lashes. She could imagine—

"Emma?" Cas questioned. Emma broke her gaze with Dean and quickly glanced over at the shortest of the three men. He had slate blue eyes, darker than Killian's but no less enigmatic. After a moment more of Emma's silence, he repeated the question that Emma must have missed. "I hear that Ms. Smith has chosen to substitute for your regular math teacher?"

"Yes!" Emma exclaimed, suddenly excited.

He knew Ms. Smith? Maybe this was her and Dean's in. They'd discussed the potential casters of this curse at length, deciding that Rumplestiltskin and Ms. Smith were their top targets, shortly followed by Regina(although Emma was certain she'd turned over a new leaf, there was no harm in making sure) and then the Snow Queen. Dean imagined that some demon king or whatever named Crowley could potentially be involved, but he wouldn't put money on it. They were both confused as to why the residents of Storybrooke and these three were included in the curse.

"Well…" Cas continued after a moment. "Is she doing all right? She was nervous about starting the job."

"Cas works with her as a receptionist at her therapy firm," Sam supplemented. "But he's working on his master's in psychology, so we may have a therapist in the family soon," he continued proudly.

"I would love to meet her outside of school," Emma was about to say. But something caught her tongue, and she found she couldn't think, she couldn't speak, and she couldn't move.

It happened so quickly, fake-Emma's voice rang through her skull, the words piercing as sharp, isolated points in her skull.

"Am I doing it right?" Emma asked. She was nervous; or, she was nervous in the memory, at least. It was strange, being semi-conscious in a memory at the same time that her memory-thoughts and feelings floated through her. She was nervous that this was her first time driving, nervous that her parents weren't exactly coherent enough to guide her along.

Confirming her suspicions, her father spoke to her in a slightly slurred voice to her right. "You're doing fine, hun." He said. She didn't spare a glance towards him, too focused on the dark road before her. She heard her mother snoring in the back seat.

Sweat was dampening Emma's palms, loosening her grip on the wheel. Real Emma dimly realized what moment was being showcased in her mind; the moment her parents were killed. No wonder everyone was walking on eggshells with her; she had killed her parents! If Emma had done the same, she would be overcome with guilt.

"Stop up ahead and look away," Emma's father intoned, and Emma mentally corrected that he meant look both ways. She applied the brakes forcefully, sending her mother crashing against the back seat.

"Gentle!" Her father exclaimed, and Emma panicked. She eased her foot off the brakes, but when she realized she wouldn't stop in time to make it to the stop sign, her gut dropped out from under her. She didn't know whether to halt immediately or to try and slowly apply brakes, and there wasn't enough time for her to decide. It was a split-second decision that she didn't make in time; the second she passed the stop sign, a car started blaring its horn, and everything

started to

crack

"No!" Emma exclaimed, suddenly thrust back into reality. Where was she? What was she doing—what was she doing here, at the Winchester's house? She and Dean weren't on speaking terms…

"Emma! Emma, come back! It didn't happen, whatever that was?" Emma blinked, looking deep into Dean's green eyes. And slowly, the world came back into focus.

Oh, shit, Emma thought, her stomach dropping to her feet. This was turning into more than just a few snapshots of what the fake-Emma would've said. For a moment there, after waking from the memory…she'd actually thought she was that fake Emma.

Dean

Dean had debated on whether or not to tell Emma about his own memory collapse the entire drive back to her house. Ultimately, he'd decided he couldn't do it with both Sam and Castiel in the car with them, and would have to wait until they were alone again.

With that decision crossed off his list of things to think about, he'd turned towards the other items on the list, namely; whether or not Crowley was involved in the curse; whether or not he could find any weapon, namely the angel blade that could kill anything, and how he, his brother, and Cas fit in to all of this curse crap.

"Doing all right in there Dean?" Speak of the Angel…

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean replied shortly, hoping the response would be enough for Cas to leave it alone.

It wasn't. "I just think it might be stressful for you, trying to regain your friendship with Emma, while harboring romantic feelings for her."

"Excuse me?" Dean spluttered, staring at Cas as he sat down at the head of Dean's bed. "Romantic what? I don't have any romantic feelings towards Emma," Dean made a face, though he was internally shocked at Cas's assumptions. Had he expressed any…feelings about Emma in Cas's fake memory? Was he that much of a girl in this world?

Would it be that bad if I did like her? A small voice piped in at the back of Dean's head. He shut that thought down immediately. But then again…would really be that bad? It was assumed that they were both adults, and Dean never really minded a cougar—of course, the older ladies mostly had the hots for Sam. Ages aside, Emma seemed like a decent chick. He had no idea if she was his type, though. It looked like she could grow into babe—

Dean shut that thought down quickly, too. It was too weird, God damn it! He had never had to deal with a situation like this before. Hell, he doubted anyone had had to deal with this sort of situation before.

"Come on Dean," Cas responded, tilting his head and smiling. "You've made yourself quite clear in the past, don't let yourself get psyched out now. All I wanted to say is that you should let these things come naturally, don't try and force them. Emma's a smart girl, she'll figure it out eventually."

"Yeah, but she's with the damn senior," Dean heard himself saying.

"Not anymore. Ingrid tells me they just broke up today. And," Cas said, looking at Dean slyly from the corner of his eye, "I'll leave you with that information. Good night, Dean."

"Night," Dean replied absently. Internally, he was wondering; what had caused the split-up? Was it mutual, or…? Dean shook his head. It doesn't matter, he told himself. At the back of his mind, however, he was already planning on asking her how old she was before the curse hit. Sure, it was rude to ask a lady her real age, but Emma didn't seem like the kind of chick who'd mind. And if he could find a way to just slip it in there…

Dean groaned; he really had better things to be thinking about. Despite this, Dean felt his thoughts slipping away from plans on breaking the curse to the way Emma Swan smiled, even when it wasn't a real smile, every few minutes. And those thoughts carried him through the night, until he had to force himself to go to sleep before Emma Swan consumed him. And even then, thoughts of her bright green eyes were the last thoughts in his mind before he drifted to sleep that night.

Author's Note: So sorry this paltry chapter took so long, and so sorry it is of such low quality and interest! I decided that I simply needed to force this thing out to get back in the groove, so I hope it worked! Thank you so much for sticking with me this far, I sincerely hope that this was(though know, at the back of my mind, that it was not) an enjoyable chapter, worth the wait. I will be headed to my grandparents house this weekend, so if the next chapter is not up by late on the 1st, expect it Sunday.

-Ashlee Frame