A/N: Finally getting back into the swing of writing. I have greatly missed posting for you guys. I gave you the time that this story takes place in regards to the seasons it corresponds to for the shows, and now I must warn you that the events that occur from henceforth will deviate from OUAT.

Dean had explored the town as much as he was able, stopping in a few local stores and picking up the local gossip as he pretended to check headlines and browse shelves. True to every small town he'd been in, the local chatter was enough to give him an idea of what was really going on, outside of whatever news reporters had to say.

The people were unhappy. It seemed that there had been quite a lot going on in the small town of Storybrook that just hadn't been notated by one Sidney Glass. For instance, he'd found that the new sheriff had only just been appointed, and that she was the first newcomer that had graced the town since anyone could remember. She'd taken over for the previous sheriff, a healthy young man who had apparently dropped dead of a heart attack. Things were starting to feel familiar now. Now it was a case that sounded like something they were used to dealing with.

There seemed to be a lot of tension between the new sheriff and the mayor of the town, which seemed to revolve around the sheriff's son whom the mayor had adopted. Emma had been gone from Henry's life for the better part of a decade until he left Storybrook to find her.

Thoughtfully, Dean wandered the streets. From what he'd heard and what he'd gleaned from the newspapers, he was sure that whatever was happening in this small little town had something to do with the two women. Of the two, the sheriff was the newest in town, and the magic bubble around the area had been around for almost thirty years.

He froze. Sam's dream. The mayor. "Sonovabitch," he breathed, looking back toward main street where Granny's stood. His brother was having visions; it hadn't been a dream.

He started back toward the inn, his mind racing. He needed to talk to Sam and tell him what he'd found. He needed to know if Sam felt the same. If this was happening, they needed to find a way to get to the mayor and find out what she was hiding.

"Hey!"

Dean stumbled, tripping over the young boy that had just exited the building next to him. "Whoa, hey kid, sorry!" He righted himself, kneeling beside the boy he'd hit, the mayor's son. Dean couldn't believe his luck. He helped him to his feet, dusting off his jacket. "I was a little lost, kid. Sorry about that. You okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, reaching for his bookbag, "it's okay." He offered Dean a smile.

"Let me help you with that." Dean's eyes came to rest on the papers and books that had fallen out of the boy's bag. One in particular caught his eye. "I'm Dean," he introduced, handing a stack of the boy's homework back to him. His eyes swept over his prize as he lifted it from the ground. The book was old and bound in leather, the pages obviously thick and slightly yellowing around the edges with age.

"Henry," the boy returned, taking the book from Dean and zipping the bag closed around it.

"That's a nice book, Henry. You like to read?" he asked.

"Yeah, a little." He fixed the bag on his shoulders as Dean stood. "You're not from around here, huh?"

He smiled, sliding his hands in his jacket pockets. "Nah, me an' my brother, we travel a lot."

"What is it you guys do? I mean, it can't be easy traveling all the time, can it?"

"No, kid, it's not easy." He sighed. "We're kind of...handymen. We can fix things that most people can't. So, we're usually looking for work when we pull into town."

"What kinds of things do you fix?" Henry asked curiously.

Dean faltered. "Well...we..."

"Henry?" A dark-haired woman came to the door, looking over the two in confusion. "You don't want to be late, Henry."

"Yes, Ms. Blanchard. It was nice to meet you, Dean," Henry offered, turning down main street and heading off.

Dean watched him go, mentally kicking himself. He'd been so close.

"You're with the other guy, right?" the woman stepped outside the door. "He was jogging this morning?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean smiled, "that's my brother." He extended his hand and she shook it. Dean was surprised to find callouses hidden on what should have been soft skin. "Are you the teacher?" From the description Sam had given him earlier, this was the woman he'd seen on the bridge and in town.

She nodded, "Mary Margaret."

"Dean." He dropped his hand to his side. "I, uh, accidentally knocked Henry over a minute ago. Nothin' creepy, I promise."

She crossed her arms loosely over her chest, turning to watch Henry disappear down the street. "He's a good kid. I was just...making sure he got to his appointment on time."

"He seems like a good kid."

She sighed and fixed a smile to her face, turning back to Dean. "Your brother's okay? He seemed a little out of sorts after his run this morning."

"Yeah, yeah, he's good. He's recovering and sometimes...he just pushes himself too hard."

She nodded. "You guys staying long?

"Not sure, really." He rocked back on his heels. "It might be nice to settle down for a while. Goodness knows Sammy could really use it."

She smiled, "you must really care about him a lot, huh?"

"Yeah," he sighed, chuckling a bit as he looked down at the sidewalk. A million images flashed through his mind. Sammy. His brother.

"Hey." Her concerned face swam into view as he looked back up, her hand resting on his forearm. "You were a million miles away."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, no...I mean, everything's fine," he managed, throwing a genuine smile back on his face.

She eyed him suspiciously.

"It's just...always been me an' Sam, always takin' care of him, since we were kids. Haven't really stayed in one spot too long."

She worried her bottom lip, studying his face intently. "You...maybe want to grab a coffee?"

"Uh, yeah...sure," came the response, his surprise evident.

"Great, let me just...grab..." she disappeared back inside the building, her voice trailing off behind her.

Dean turned his back to the door, his mind racing. If Sam had 'seen' this woman, Dean had somehow magically stumbled across the opportunity to investigate. Mary Margaret seemed like the caring type, the type of person who genuinely seemed to care about everyone around her. Dean had read compassion in her eyes when she'd been looking up at him, true compassion. It was something he hadn't seen in a very long time.

She emerged a moment later, buttoning her jacket as she closed the door behind her. "There," she announced, pulling on a black beret.

They started down the street together, toward the diner. He held the door for her and they took a quiet booth in the back, sitting across from one another. She shrugged out of her jacket, laying it on the seat beside her, her hat perching atop the pile.

"It seemed like you could use a chat," she offered, running her fingers through her hair to comb it down.

"A chat, huh?"

"Well, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but...I know...what it's like to not have anyone to talk to. I could see that look in your eyes." She regarded him sadly, her empathy evident. "Besides, it's kind of a win-win thing."

He relaxed back in his seat, watching the small woman across the table. "How do you figure?"

"Well," she began slowly, "you get to share your worries with someone who won't judge you, and that can work out two ways for you. You can clear your conscience and clear town without ever having to worry about seeing me again, or...you can clear your conscience and stay,...and gain a friend." She paused, grinning impishly, "and then for me, well...I get find out about the two newest visitors to our little town. Color me curious."

They sent their orders away with Ruby and settled back, eyes meeting across the table.

"Well, then...what would you like to know?"

"Let's start with the obvious...What brought you to Storybrook?"

"Figured it'd be good to get off the road a while. Planned a hike with my brother. Must've gotten turned around somewhere, 'cause instead of ending up back at the car, we found your little town. It's nice here...quiet. Seemed like a bit of luck, really. Figured it'd be a good place to rest a bit...Been a while since we've been able to do that."

They thanked Ruby as she brought over their hot drinks. Dean sipped at the black coffee while Mary Margaret swiped at the whipped cream on her hot chocolate with her spoon.

"You're on the road a lot then?"

He nodded, sitting the mug down on the table.

"Do you travel for work?"

"Well, sort of. We...usually just find a few local jobs in whatever city we pull into, stay a few days and move on. We used to stay at..." he trailed off, his throat tightening dangerously. Hot tears stung at his eyes as the unexpected memory of Bobby surged to the surface. He cleared his throat, blinking a few times as he regained his composure. It hadn't gone unnoticed.

The pain he saw in her eyes over his condition hit him again. She didn't rush him, merely waited for him to steady himself and continue.

"It's been a lot harder the past few months. We're not homeless, by any means. We get by." He took another drink of his coffee. "When we wanted off the road for a bit, we had a place to go to...one of dad's old friends. After dad died, he...he kind of adopted us, and now...well, he's gone too..."

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, covering his hand with hers. "What happened?"

"He, uh...he was shot,...outside of an office building." Bobby's face flashed before his eyes, the bullet wound oozing blood down his forehead.

She squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present. "That's so horrible. I can't imagine..."

He physically stilled his hands, not realizing they'd begun to shake. "Hey, it's...we're dealing with it. Part of that was some vacation therapy...and here we are." He smiled awkwardly, silently cursing himself. He hadn't expected to be getting so personal with anyone and it was obvious he wasn't in full control of his emotions.

"We can talk about something else, if you want," she offered gently.

"It's alright," he assured, picking up the apology in her words, "I don't mind talkin' about him. Bobby,...he was a good man. He was a hateful, stubborn, cranky drunk with the biggest heart of gold,...and I can tell you for a fact he's one of the bravest men I've ever known. I'm just glad we had him for as long as we did." He raised his mug in a toast and she echoed it. "Don't know where we'd be if we hadn't had him."

"Do you have any other family?" she asked, absently swirling away the last of her whipped cream, her chin resting in her hand.

"Nah, it's just me an' Sam against the world. He's pretty good company, most of the time. Strong as an ox...brains of the operation. Doesn't really like my music, so..." he shrugged, sitting his empty mug on the edge of the table.

"Let me guess..." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You're a...classics guy...maybe metal...maybe rock."

"Guilty as charged," he admitted. "Take after my dad."

"Tell me about him."

"I'm gonna warn you right here," he stated quietly, leaning forward to ensure he had her full attention, "that my life...it's all a very, very sad story, and well, I'm enjoyin' your company too much to let the evening get too sad. Dad died a few years back, but...we lost him the night our mom died. He spent what was left of his life searching...to fill the void that was left when he lost her. We moved a lot...and I took care of Sam. That's what I do. I take care of my family. Dad taught us how to defend ourselves,...bein' a military man, he was pretty good at that. This bein' on the road thing, it's a part of us. Sure, we'd love to settle down, but there's just...so much out there."

"Sure there's a lot out there, but...what about relationships? It can't be easy to not have...even something like this." She gestured between the two of them.

"We...we both did have that...for a while." He waited for Ruby to refill his coffee, offering his thanks as she sauntered away. "Maybe we should save that for another time, say...over dinner, or something."

She nodded slowly, smiling. "Deal. As long as you don't skip town first."

He chuckled, pressing back against the padding of the cushion in his seat. This woman's effect was almost intoxicating. Whether she realized what she was doing or not, he found that he could talk to her about anything, and he wanted to talk to her. It took almost every ounce of his willpower not to open up and shout his deepest secrets to the entire town as she sat there, looking him over. Yet there was no deception in her. Good clearly radiated from this woman. He'd never been more sure of anything in his life.

"I think we might stick around a while," he promised, "at least long enough to make good on that dinner."

"Good," she conceded, noting the change that had passed over him. He definitely seemed much more at ease.

"Now, I've told you a fair bit..."

"...and I am happy to return the favor," she finished for him, smiling over her mug at him. "After all, there's not that much to tell. I am just a school teacher, living in a quiet town, living the almost perfect life. I...love my kids. They're all so wonderful..."

"But?" he prompted, sensing her hesitation.

"I don't know. It's just always felt like this isn't it, like...I was meant to be doing something else. I want to find my prince charming, settle down, have a family of my own...I am just a simple girl when it comes down to it, Dean."

"No luck in the love department?" His tone was gentle, understanding. It hadn't been too long ago that he'd had to walk way from the woman he loved. He knew heartbreak, and he was old friends with loneliness.

"There was one..." she seemed to stare past him, toward the wall, "but he...he's married, and I can't do that. I won't do that."

He could see the guilt written on her face. "But you already have, haven't you?"

She frowned, the effect seeming to dim the entire room, swallowing over the lump in her throat. A shaky breath dropped from her lips.

"Hey, it's alright. I get it. I do. When you feel something so strong that you just know it's right...it's hard to ignore."

She nodded, but her voice was small and wounded. "I shouldn't have, but I was selfish. I wasn't strong enough."

"Love makes us do crazy things, and I know how hard it is to walk away from the real thing. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her...and her son. I was selfish too. I get that."

She regarded him for a long moment in silence before nodding, seemingly to herself. "You are an interesting man, Dean."

"Dean Winchester, at your service."

"Ms. Blanchard."

Dean looked up, finding himself gazing into the face of the mayor of Storybrook. He hadn't even seen her come into the diner.

"Madam Mayor," she greeted.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me to your guest?"

Dean looked her over. She was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her skin was flawless, save for a small scar above her lip, and her lips the perfect red pout. Her dark eyes fairly smouldered, sparkling with what might have been geniality. She smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. Dean almost shuddered. He hated politicians, and she reeked of it. The forced smile, the planted sparkle in the eye, the perfect appearance...she was the female version of the very monster they hunted now, Dick Roman.

"Of course," she cleared her throat, "Regina Mills, this is Dean...Winchester. Dean, this is the mayor of our fine town."

"A pleasure," he acknowledged, attempting to force himself not to stereotype her simply because of her position. It was a difficult task, and one he was failing at miserably. In fact, he was wishing for her to be evil. At least this evil would be attainable. It was right in front of him, trapped inside this bubble.

"And how are you enjoying Storybrook?" the mayor asked, the accommodating smile still fixed on those perfect lips.

"Everyone's been real nice." He nodded toward his companion. "And I will admit this is the first time I've been greeted by a mayor, anywhere I've gone."

"Well, I like to know what's happening in my little town. We're a tight-knit community here." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Will you be staying long?"

"Haven't decided yet. I'm kind of on an extended vacation."

"I see," she mused, her eyes seeming to pierce him to the soul. "Well, then...I won't interrupt. If you need anything,..." she stepped back, the invitation unspoken. "If you'll excuse me, I need to pick up my son."

Farewells were murmured as she walked away, heading out of the diner and across the street. He visibly relaxed when the door closed behind her.

"So that's the mayor."

"Regina can be difficult, but she's a driven woman. I'd say her job is pretty stressful. She has her hands in almost every project in town."

He blinked, his eyes refocusing on the woman in front of him. After the whirlwind that had been Regina Mills, Mary Margaret was like the calm of the storm. Dean could have sworn she was almost glowing. "Must be hard to run a town and raise a kid."

"Henry is...troubled," she admitted. "That's how Emma ended up here,...she's Henry's mother. Regina has been...competing with her, I guess, since then. She's afraid to lose her son."

"The sheriff, she came up here to take her son?"

"No, no," she sat her empty mug down on the table. "Henry stole my credit card...and to make a long story short, Emma brought him back."

Resourceful kid, he thought.

"Things are better...for all of us...with Emma here. Something changed when she came here. It feels...right, kind of like our little community is complete, but...there is a lot of tension between the sheriff and the mayor, and I know it can't be easy for Henry to be stuck in the middle." She gazed absently at the table, idly playing with her spoon.

"Can't blame a kid for wantin' to know his mom, his real mom."

"I suppose so," she finally agreed.

"Yet clearly you feel guilty."

"I don't feel guilty about him finding Emma. That much has been good for him...and her too."

"Then why the long face?" he prodded.

A pained expression crossed her face, and she forced herself to look up into Dean's green eyes. "I think I might have...encouraged Henry to believe some things that he shouldn't have. I gave him this book thinking that it might help, ya know? I mean, fairy tales,...they have happy endings. I only wanted him to have some hope." She looked at him imploringly. "He...went to Emma because he thinks we're all characters in his book."

He was careful to control his reaction. It wouldn't be the first time they had dealt with fairy tales. They'd dealt with their own Sleeping Beauty only a few years before. "Why would that make him go to her?"

"He thinks that she's...the key to breaking the curse that's keeping us here."

He nodded, "I see."

"It's silly, I know."

"Well, maybe not," Dean countered. "I mean, he's obviously associating you guys with the characters for a reason. It may not be the reason he's aware he's doing it for, but..."

"He was trapped in a mine," she interrupted, a haunted expression crossing her face, "searching for proof...It collapsed." She lapsed into silence for a long moment before clearing her throat, shaking her head gently.

He laid hand over hers, repaying the favor she'd shown him with a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "He's okay now. With you...and the sheriff to look out for him,...I think he'll be alright." He offered her a small smile. "We boys, we have a way of getting ourselves into some sticky situations. Things will calm down."

"You're so sure."

"Ben...Ben was about his age. I get it. It's a tough age." He didn't bother to elaborate, a powerful urge of longing for the family he'd left behind sweeping over him. He'd loved Ben as he would have loved his own son. He'd almost been convinced Ben was his son, he was so much like Dean. It was only now getting to the point where he could talk about them again, after he'd has Castiel wipe their memories. There was no hope of returning to them now. That bridge had been burned.

"Thank you," she managed, sincerity flavoring her words. "I'm not sure why, but I feel like I can talk to you about anything."

I could say the same thing about you, he thought.

"It's been nice to have someone to talk to tonight, Dean."

"We'll have to do this again soon," he agreed, bringing a brilliant smile to her face.

They left the diner together, Dean paying for their drinks, parting ways at the door. He felt a pang in his heart as he watched her go, but resolutely put his back to her, heading across the road toward the inn. It was late now, the sun having set for the day, bringing a chill to the air. It was much colder than it had been when they'd entered the diner.

He almost missed the still form against the tree, so anxious was he to get inside to discuss the conversation with his brother. Alarms sounded in his mind and he broke into a sprint, his powerful legs quickly cutting away the distance to the large tree. He dropped to his knees beside his brother, relief flooding through him as he found a strong and steady pulse, his chest rising evenly.

"Sammy?" He lightly slapped his brother's cheeks, trying to get him to rouse. "Dammit, Sam. C'mon. Wake up."

Groggily, the younger man began to stir, his eyes rolling behind his eye lids. He shivered, his head lolling listlessly as he tried to force himself to wake up. "Dean?" came the question, his voice weak.

"Hey, Sammy. Gotta wake up." He offered him some support, ensuring he stayed sat back against the tree as he roused. "Easy now."

"Tryin', Dean." He sighed, his eyes finally cracking open, searching out his brother's face. "'M sorry."

"We'll talk about that once we get you inside." He threw his brother's arm over his shoulder and bodily hoisted him to his feet. "Besides, I've got somethin' to tell ya."

With a little maneuvering, he managed to haul his brother to their room where he deposited him unceremoniously on the bed. Sam managed to sit up, leaning forward to hold his head in his hands.

"My head," he groaned. Moments later, he found himself presented with a glass of water and aspirin, and he took it gratefully. Sinking back onto the bed with his eyes closed, willing the medicine to take effect. His entire body ached, but his head throbbed, the pain nauseating.

"Now, you gonna tell me why you were outside passed out against a tree or am I gonna have to beat it out of you?" Dean asked as the younger man came around.

"Taking notes." He checked his pockets, a moment of panic crossing his face.

Dean held up his phone. "This what you're lookin' for?"

Sam caught the phone and flipped through the screens, clearly relieved. "I thought I might be able to record what I was seeing, ya know, with the voice recorder on this thing. I figured I might be able to describe enough to...I don't know...find out what it is exactly that's happening."

The elder hunter nodded, impressed. "Get anything?"

"Looks like...about five minutes of recording," he answered, somewhat disappointed. The pain he was feeling felt like it should have been more. "It's a start."

"Found a few things myself." He settled down on his own bed, facing his brother. "I think I've got a lead."

tbc...