Dean knocked on the hotel door-he had forgotten his keys-and waited impatiently for Sam to open it. He forcefully tapped his knuckles against the door again, just as Sammy twisted and pulled the door inwards, causing Dean to stumble in. He glared at his younger brother and straighten his clothes forcefully.

"Did you get my message?" he asked, not giving Sam any time to make a comment about his 'agility'.

"Yeah, about that. Who do you think is possessed?" Sam answered. "You weren't very clear."

"Emma's friend, David. The station smelt like sulfur, and he wasn't there," Dean explained, knowing it wasn't the best answer he had ever given. He removed his gun from his waistband and sat down on the bed, setting it beside him.

"That's it? So, you just assumed it would be demons," Sam said, putting his hands on his hips. Dean shut and rolled his eyes.

"And there's the whole Storybrooke isn't on the map and has no trace of existence," Dean responded tiredly.

"Where does David live?" Sam said, in a way that made Dean know he was just trying to appease him. Dean kicked himself mentally. He had never asked Emma that. Outwardly, he smirked as an idea came to him.

"I don't know, but I do know who to call." He slid his phone out of his pocket and dialed 9-1-1.

Emma had finally gotten Mary Margaret relaxed-David still wasn't back yet-and she had just made herself some hot chocolate when she received a call that had been forwarded from the station. She didn't recognize the number, but she had an idea of who it might be. She sighed heavily before answering.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?" she said, trying to sound helpful (just in case she was wrong) but coming off as more indifferent.

"You are my emergency," said the voice she really, really didn't want to hear right now. "Also, I have a question. Where does David live?" She straightened up from her slack position on the couch.

"Why the hell do you need to know that?" she inquired, setting her cocoa down on the coffee table.

"Well, actually, I was wondering if there was any chance Sam and I could look around and see what evidence we can find."

Emma's eyes widened, and she snorted into the phone. "You do realize you are talking to the sheriff, right? I got this, he's probably just at the animal shelter." She stood up, deciding that she'd go there, just to check.

"Sam and I can help, trust me." She heard shuffling in the background, and she grabbed her gun and made her way to the coat rack.

"Oh, really? Why should I?" she asked harshly. She put the phone to her shoulder and called to Mary Margaret.

"Snow? I'm going to see if David's at the shelter, alright? I'll be back soon." She pulled on her coat and stepped out the door, before any protests could be made. She put the phone back to her ear just in time to hear, "-'re federal agents, okay? We can help you."

"Sorry, what?" she responded after a moment, in disbelief.

"Sam and I are undercover federal agents," he answered. She scoffed loudly into the phone.

"Really?" she asked sarcastically. "And you didn't mention this before because. . ." she drifted off waiting for an answer that was hopefully worth hearing.

"Like I said, undercover. Need to know scenarios only," he replied.

"And a missing person who probably isn't actually missing is need to know," she said in a monotone, stepping back inside the apartment.

"Emma, just trust me. Just take a leap of faith, and trust me," Dean said, exasperated with her. She clenched and then relaxed her jaw just before answering.

"Alright, fine. Let's pretend I believe you. Because I don't. Could you really help me if David were missing?" she asked him, just as the door opened. She turned to see a familiar red-haired man walk through the door.

"Which, by the way, he isn't," she added into the phone.

"We don't know that," Dean insisted.

"Actually, we do. He just came home a second ago," she answered smugly.

"So, you checked his house anyways because you thought he might be," Dean responded.

"Or we just live together," she said without really thinking. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She decided she would let him squirm for a minute, and then she'd tell him they were just roommates (because how do you explain that you are the same age as your father?). She sighed silently and shrugged off her coat, rehanging it and putting her gun away.

"Oh, uh, well, I guess I'll just leave you to alone to do. . . whatever," Dean replied and hung up the phone almost immediately after finishing his sentence. She didn't even have time to read his emotions he had hung up so fast.

She slowly drew her phone away from her ear as she turned around to go to her room. She noticed David had already gone into his bedroom with Mary Margaret. She sighed heavily. Yes, it was her intention to let Dean believe she was with David, but only for a moment (because it was a gross and disturbing thought, but how many times she could she mess with Dean like this?).

She rubbed her temples with her free hand and began making her way to her room, setting her phone down on the coffee table as she passed it. She was eager to get some sleep.

Dean woke up to the sound of the door slamming shut. He groaned and pulled himself up and into standing position by the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good, you're up. Finally," Sam's voice came from his left and he turned to see him standing by the door, sweaty from his run. Dean just twitching his eyelids in response. "You okay?" Sam asked.

Dean stretched and nodded. "Yeah, just tired is all," he responded. "Took me a while to get to sleep."

Sam let out a huff. "I know. You were tossing and turning all night. I thought maybe something was eating at you."

Dean shrugged and shook his head. "Nope, I'm good." Sam didn't look like he believed him, but he didn't push it. Sam went into the bathroom to clean up, and Dean waited for him to shut the door before trying to call Emma again (he'd tried twice after originally hanging up on Emma, but when she didn't answer-he figured she was just pissed at him for acting like a child).

You wouldn't think it'd be so hard to get in touch with the cops, he thought to himself. He sighed again and shut his phone, standing up and walking to grab his jacket and gun.

"Hey, Sammy!" he called, "I'm headed out!"

"Umm, okay!" came the response as he was walking out the door. He hopped into the Impala and drove to the library, deciding to check out all the local myths.

Upon entering the establishment, Dean was surprised to find a young, attractive woman stocking the shelves. He smiled to himself before making his way over to her.

"Hi, I'm Dean," he said, trying not to startle her, but doing just that anyways. She let out a small yelp and whacked him, hard, with a book in the chest twice. He winced and held up his hands in surrender.

"I was just going to ask where I could find local legends," he groaned. The woman gasped and set the book down.

"I'm so sorry, oh my goodness, are you hurt?" she rushed, patting his chest and shoulders, checking for bruises.

"Yeah, no, I'm good. It's fine, really," he answered, shrugging it off. How did someone so small pack that big of a punch, he wondered.

"I'm really sorry, it's just, I'm not used to strangers-well, people-coming in here."

"No, it's really okay," he assured her. "But, uh," he coughed, his chest was probably red in the shape of a book underneath his shirt, "back to the legends here, do you have any? I'm helping my brother with an article."

He noticed her eyes turn wary, but she nodded. "Yes, we have some over this way. Follow me," she said, walking away quickly, not even checking to see if Dean was following her, but, of course, he was.

Sam was walking to Granny's for breakfast, wishing that Dean would forget the Impala for once in his life because today was cold. He shivered and folded his arms across his chest, thinking warm thoughts. He watched the other people who were walking the streets as well-there was a man with an umbrella who was walking a Dalmatian and there was a different man with a cane and long scarf and gave off a creeper-vibe.

Sam kept walking and turned to enter the diner, immediately hit with the aroma of pancakes and oatmeal that had had already been served. He seated himself in an empty booth, waiting for the waitress (Ruby, wasn't that her name?) so he could order. The doorbell rang again, and he looked over, curious and bored, to see the sheriff's kid, Henry, walking in and looking rather upset. Of course, Ruby walked right over to him, past Sam, to see what was wrong.

The kid was near tears, gesturing wildly with his hands to get his point across to Ruby. Sam only hoped that whatever the problem was, it would be solved quickly because boy did he want some pancakes.

Ruby and Henry settled whatever it was, and Henry sat himself at the bar, Granny handing him a muffin, and Ruby finally made her way over to take Sam's order.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a falsely chirpy voice.

"Yeah, I'll take the pancakes and a parfait, thanks," he said as she quickly scribbled the order, watching Henry out of the corner of her eye. "Everything okay?" he added, also glancing at Henry.

She jerked a little and then gave him her full attention. "Um, yeah, his mom forgot to pick him up from… his mom's… It doesn't normally happen, he's just a little concerned."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure," he answered. She left and came back a while later with his pancakes. He ate slowly, wondering whether maybe there was a case in Storybrooke.