A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. I'm so happy to see that you're interested! The new season of OUAT totally has me distracted! Sometimes I think writers actually want to cater to us fanfic writers by putting so much of their own whumpage in! Additionally, I've been working nights...so sorry again about the delay. That should be over now (hopefully) and I'll (hopefully) have more time to write!

"Who were they?" Henry asked as his mom returned to the table, glancing toward the brothers.

"They say they're here for the views, just hiked into town," Emma answered, taking an appreciative sip of her hot chocolate. Henry mimicked her motions, nursing his own cup.

"Were they telling the truth?"

She favored her son with a long look, sitting the mug deliberately back on the table. "No." She looked back over her shoulder. "I don't why they're here."

"People don't come to Storybrook," he pressed. "The curse...it keeps people here and it keeps people out."

"Is there a story in the book about brothers?" She turned her attention away from the two men, having watched Dean shovel another fork full of pie into his mouth. "At least that much was true."

He fell silent for a moment, going over the book in his mind. He'd practically memorized it over the months he'd been reading, trying to figure out who everyone in the town was supposed to be. He figured he'd gotten most of the people pinpointed by now. The evil queen had kept them to their strengths to keep the town running smoothly, of that he was sure. Slowly, he shook his head. "I...I don't think so."

She drained her cup. "Don't worry, kiddo. I'll keep an eye on them. Don't want them to cross Regina, anyway." She checked her gun and her watch. "C'mon, Henry. We need to get you back."

He finished his drink, wiping the whipped cream from his lips with the back of his hand. He pushed out of his chair, grabbing his backpack as he followed Emma from the diner.

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Sam sat bolt upright in the bed, panting and covered in sweat. He looked around the room, seeing his brother asleep in the bed by the window. He willed his racing heart to slow, the pounding in his ears almost deafening. Confusion clouded his mind as his dream came flooding back to him, the details quickly disappearing as he grasped for understanding.

"There's something different about you," the dark-haired woman spoke, a sneer curling into an evil smile on her pretty face. "Something...in your blood. I can smell destiny on you."

Sam struggled against the invisible bonds that held him against the wall, staring down into the eyes that seemed devoid of anything but glee at his plight. "Don't know...what you're...talkin' 'bout..." he wheezed.

"It doesn't matter," she continued, raising her hand toward his chest. "Your heart...your heart will make a very nice addition to my collection. I have...something special planned for you."

Pain ripped through his chest and a tortured scream tore from his throat...

The memory of his dream faded, leaving the hint of very real pain in its wake. He looked down at his chest, checking for marks, releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he found nothing. He shook his head, knowing he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. Sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself upright, stretching the stiffness out of his back. He grabbed another beer and the nearest newspaper, sinking into the chair across the room and switching on the table lamp. A quick glance told him that Dean was still fast asleep, so he shook out the newspaper, settling in to read.

It took tremendous effort for him to concentrate, finding it difficult to shake the woman's face from his mind. The memory left his stomach unsettled, a sensation he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Long minutes passed and he placed his empty bottle on the table beside him, tossing his newspaper aside. Sighing, he reached for the last one and froze as he found the woman's face on the front. He sat forward, quickly angling the light toward the paper, his eyes scanning the text underneath the large picture. "Local candidate for sheriff, Emma Swan, rescues Mayor Regina Mills from fire."

"She's the mayor," he breathed, lowering the paper slowly into his lap. He ran his hand raggedly over the stubble on his cheek, his mind racing. It wasn't the first time he'd seen things before they'd happened, but his visions had long been dormant. Since they'd killed Azazel, he had needed demon blood to bring the visions forward again. He'd been dry since they'd faced Lucifer. Lucifer. He paused, another thought taking precedence. He hadn't seen Lucifer since they'd crossed into Storybrook. All was quiet, for the first time since he'd gotten his soul back.

He looked toward his brother, conflicted. It could have been any number of things that had brought the mayor's face to his mind. He could have seen her picture somewhere in the town on their walk in. Lucifer's silence, on the other hand, could be yet another tease. He could have planted the image in his head. Silently, he decided against waking his brother, soothing the racing thoughts away with logic. The pain he'd felt with the dream had had him spooked.

The first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon only a few hours later, and restless, Sam changed into his joggers, anxious to clear his mind. Hastily, he scribbled a note on a torn section of paper, leaving it on Dean's beside table, easily visible for when he woke. He left the room, nodding to Granny as he headed out the door.

The early risers in town regarded him as he jogged down the street, and he nodded to them in greeting as he passed. He could feel their eyes on his back, slightly increasing his pace as he left the town center. Once outside of the town, he found a turn off onto a wooded trail, and took it, his feet welcoming the cushion of the dirt and moss. The trees overhead repelled the light, casting everything around him into dark shadows.

He'd travelled about a mile before coming to a clearing by a river. An old bridge ran across the width, joining the main road on either side. The sign said "toll bridge," which someone had painted a red "r" on, making it a "troll bridge." Slowly, he walked down to the water's edge, letting himself enjoy the morning, the way the mist hung low over the water. It was peaceful. With a bit more light in the clearing, he could appreciate his surroundings, noting how ancient the trees looked. This area seemed almost untouched by man.

Stretching, he turned on his heel and trudged up the hill leading to the bridge. This seemed like the perfect place to take a break and clear his mind. He let the cool mountain air wash over him, breathing deeply and enjoying the quiet. He walked past the troll bridge sign, resting his hand on the railing across the bridge.

It took only seconds for images to flood his mind. Another dark-haired woman dressed in clothes he hadn't seen outside of history books, led a blond man onto the bridge, except it seemed older and in dire need of repair. The railing was gone, replaced instead by crumbling stone work. Gasping, Sam drew his hand away, staring across the empty bridge. As soon as the images had found him, they were gone again.

He paused. He had seen the woman before, when he and Dean had first walked into town. Her hair was shorter, but there was no mistaking her face. Shaken, he raked his hand raggedly through his sweat-dampened hair, trying to piece together what was happening. He stared out over the water and his vision swam. Surely, this had to be one of Lucifer's games, playing with his head. It had to be.

Deciding it was less safer than he'd imagined to be on his own, he started back toward the town, abandoning his jog in favor of a sprint. His head-long pace brought him out of the forest and back onto pavement within moments. Dawn had broken and the town was awake, sending him dashing headlong into what seemed like a sea of swimming faces. He drew back, reeling.

"Hey," someone said cautiously, approaching him, "are you okay?" She sounded worried.

He tried for force his eyes to focus, watching her in confusion. It was the woman he'd seen on the bridge. "Yeah...I'm fine," he managed, drawing a small, awkward smile to his lips.

"You don't look fine," she stated, her brows drawn together as she took a step closer. "Do you need me to call somebody?"

He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Just pushed too hard with the run, I think. I'm just around the corner...at Granny's. I'll be okay." He smiled again. "Thanks...Thanks, though."

She studied him in silence for a long moment before she finally nodded. "I'm Mary Margaret."

"Sam," he returned, shaking her outstretched hand.

"Well, Sam," she sighed, opening the truck door, "I'm late for class and you need to go lie down." She slid into the driver's seat. "Teacher's orders."

"Yes, ma'am." He closed the door behind her and waved as she pulled away. Avoiding the probing eyes of those on the street, he turned toward Granny's.

Dean was up when he returned to the room, freshly showered and dressed, already well into the day's first beer.

"You look like hell," the older brother greeted as Sam closed the door behind him.

"Feel like it, too," he confessed, sinking into the nearest seat. "Something's...something's not exactly right here."

Dean looked up from the laptop, "you find somethin' on your run, did you?"

Sam let loose a long, heavy sigh, still wrestling with his mind. What should he tell his brother and what shouldn't he?

"'Kay, Sammy, you're kinda startin' to worry me...with the long, pale face and that constipated look you're wearin'..."

"I think Lucifer's messing with my head, man," he finally spat in frustration. He sat forward, his elbows rested on his knees, his head in his hands. "I dunno. I haven't seen him since yesterday, but last night...I had a pretty vivid dream. This woman...she had me pinned...somehow...against the wall..."

"Sounds kinda kinky, Sammy. I wouldn't be complainin'."

"Dammit, Dean! I'm trying to be serious here." He pushed out of the chair, pacing.

"Sorry," Dean took a swig of his beer, sitting forward to listen. "So, this woman who had you against the wall..."

"I woke up in pain," he picked up one of the newspapers, "she was reaching toward my chest."

"And it was a dream...We deal with these kinds of things all the time, Sammy."

"Yeah." He turned the newspaper around, showing his brother the picture. "Her name is Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrook. Why would I dream of her when I had never seen her before?" He tossed the paper toward his brother, resuming his pacing. "And when I was running,...I saw people on the bridge who couldn't be there. There was a woman and a man, and the clothes they were wearing...he looked like some sort of noble, maybe...carrying a sword. Thing is...I ran into that same woman on my way back here. Her name is Mary Margaret and she's a school teacher." He drug his hand across the stubble on his cheeks. "If this isn't some game Lucifer's playing, then...I don't know what this is. I wasn't even gonna say anything."

"No,...no. I mean, it's good to know what's goin' on in your head."

"I don't even know what's going on in my head anymore." He sounded tired.

"We'll figure it out, Sammy," Dean stood, moving to his brother. "What do you think this is? Does it...feel like something he'd do?"

"Honestly, Dean...it feels like...visions." He shook his head. "If it is...then...that means something is definitely off here."

"Don't you need demon blood..."

"I thought so," Sam interjected.

"Maybe it's something here, then. Maybe whatever this bubble thing is...it's messing with your head." He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "It'll be alright, Sam. We'll figure it out. We always do."

tbc...