So it's definitely been a while since I've posted and it's totally understandable if you want to yell at me, but hopefully, this makes up for it.

Sam had been dropped off at Gold's shop so he could follow the bug in the Impala back to the station and Mary Margaret chattered to Dean about how the forest looked this time of year.

The two waited for Sam to arrive and then the trio entered together. When Emma looked up from her desk work and caught sight of Mary Margaret, she bolted up and the women hugged each other tightly,Mary Margaret quickly whispering in Emma's ear. Dean shifted awkwardly behind them, glancing up at the ceiling and counting tiles, while Sam just shuffled his feet a little bit, eager to actually do something.

Emma pulled away from the embracement first and turned her gaze to the brothers, eyes narrowing into a glare as her eyes locked on Dean.

"As soon as this is over, you are gone. Understand?" She said it as more of a statement than a question. Nodding her head in confirmation (not giving any room for interjections), she jumped forward to the main topic. "We're not sure where Henry or David are, but we're working on that. And we need to be prepared to face anything. Anything."

"How are you finding out where Henry is?" Dean asked, confused.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she retorted. Dean scoffed and shook his head.

"Right, okay, fine. Because you didn't lie to us either. Or hide who you really are," he shot back. "Don't be a hypocrite."

Sam and Mary Margaret looked at each other and away quickly. They began have internal debates with themselves about the same thing, but mainly just trying to see who would win.

"You were impersonating a federal officer! And I'm a cop!" she shouted at him.

"Um, technically, you're a sheriff," Mary Margaret offered. Emma pointed to her and nodded.

"And I'm a sheriff! You could be in jail; you should be in jail," Emma said, steaming.

"Well, I'm not and that's because you haven't arrested me because you need me and my expertise," Dean responded, pleased with himself.

Sam, however, was not impressed and snorted. Dean took a second to glare at him. "Honestly, I think she can handle it herself, Dean," Sam said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" he responded, his voice positively filled with sarcasm. "Then I'll just leave." He walked out of the door, shutting it forcefully behind him.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, eyes on Mary Margaret, who looked very concerned. "He'll cool off eventu-." He was cut off by the sound of the Impala revving up as it left the station. "Or… or not."

The sound of the door slamming yet again, snapping Sam and Mary Margaret's gazes to it, then to each other.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret called, chasing after her daughter, followed by Sam.

They got outside fast to barely see the tail end of Emma's Volkswagen go around the corner.

"I think Dean's going to be a while," Sam said defeatedly. Mary Margaret looked up at him.

"Then so will Emma. I've learned she's quite the tail," she replied in the same worn out tone.


Emma's widened almost comically when she realized that Dean was going to the beach where Henry's old castle used to be. Part of hoping her intuition was wrong, but as she followed to the sandy shore, she bit back a harsh laugh. This, this, was too much.

Dean had parked as close to the beach as was possible on the pavement; the man really seemed to love his car. Emma rolled her eyes as she parked some distance away and watched him inspect his tires for any damage that might have been caused by what little sand was on the asphalt. When he finally appeared to have finished his examination, he opened the trunk and pulled out a beer and then walked around the car to relax against its hood. That seemed like the perfect time for Emma to get out and join him. After her day, she could really, really use a beer.

She exited her bug and strolled over to the Impala. It was a really nice car now that she had a second to really look at it and appreciate it. As she got closer to it, Dean showed no outward signs of noticing her presence. She leaned against the hood as well and blinked in surprise when Dean handed her another beer. She hadn't noticed him grab the extra.

"Thanks," she said, accepting the cool drink.

"Yup," he answered, poppin his lips and taking another swig. They stood in silence, letting the air hang between them.

"So, you've known this whole time? About the town? About everyone?" she asked, but thinking 'About me?' to herself. She turned to face him, but he continued to stare at the tide.

He sighed and held out his beer a little bit, squinting, then pulled it back. "Pretty much yeah." Emma turned away, nodding to herself, and pushing the hair off her forehead.

"Of course you did," she muttered. "And were you planning on telling me? That you knew? Or that you weren't an officer?" She laughed unhumorously at the end.

"Oh, please, you figured out we weren't cops fairly quickly," Dean snapped to her. "And yes, I was going to tell you that I knew about this magic hoo-doo shit when ever it was necessary for the case."

They turned to face each almost simutaneously.

"It's not hoo-doo, okay? It's just… magic," Emma shrugged. Dean sighed and muttered something under his breath. Emma stiffened at what she thought she heard.

"Did you just say She's witch, she's sleazy ?!" she half-shouted, raising her beer in his face for a second and then taking a large swallow of it.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "No, I said, 'At least witches are easy!' Good lord, calm down!"

Emma cocked her head in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means witches are easy. Find the hexbag, burn the hexbag. If that doesn't work, you find the witch, then kill the witch. Like I said: easy."

"Wait, what?" Emma's beer bottle slid out of her hand and shattered on the asphalt. She barely blinked at the sound of the breaking glass.

"Oh c'mon! That beer was-" Dean broke off seeing Emma's face turn pale, he sighed. This was coming out very, very wrong. "Okay, let me explain before you go running off, please?" She made no move, so he continued. "Sam and I are hunters. We kill the things that kill the people. And most of the time we kill the things no one knows about or everyone just thinks is a myth. Like vampires,' he trailed off, not seeing recognition in Emma's eyes.

"Are you okay? Are you listening?" he asked, concerned, and waved a hand in front of her face. She blinked and shook herself out of her stupor, nodding.

"Vampires," she said dully.

"Yeah… vampires. Only you don't stake them or use garlic. You behead them and use dead man's blood," Dean said, keeping an eye on her.

"What about… what about werewolves?" she asked slowly, not entirely meeting his gaze.

He nodded grimly and noticed her fists tightening at her sides. "You have to use silver, since they're a kind of shape-shifter. Believe me when I tell you, if there was a way for them to control their shifts, we wouldn't have to put them down." Emma glanced at him, dark and curious.

"I thought they could. Control the shifts I mean," she said hurriedly.

Dean shook his head and Emma noticed just how stern his expression was.

"We had a case a while back where there were a bunch of attacks. A woman who was helping us on the case was bit and we tried every theory, every rumor that said it would stop or control the shifts. And none of it worked and she ended up begging us to kill to her." He gulped, remembering how upsetting that had been for Sam. "And Sam did."

"If you lay a finger on Ruby, so help me I will kill you," Emma threatened, angrily shoving a finger in Dean's chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, Ruby's a different, weird kind of werewolf. Sam and I read Henry's book and if what it's saying's true, Ruby's as good as gold," Dean said, gently grabbing Emma's hand and pushing it back to her, taking a step forward- within a forearm's length of her.

She bit her lip and then frowned as she looked up at him. "Promise?" she asked.

He looked down at their hands- he was still holding hers- and then back to her eyes

. "Promise," he swore solemnly. Emma let loose a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Thank you," she murmured, and then acting on a whim (and quite possibly a desire), she pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his stiffened a moment, surprised, before relaxing into her and weaving his hands into her hair, unable to resist that golden temptation.

"You're welcome," he whispered into her ear. They stood there, embracing each other, for a few minutes before reluctantly parting and agreeing to head back to the sheriff's department to make plans for a rescue.

Review please, it's been a while and I think I've gone rusty.