Baelfire's Brother

Chapter Four

Dean sighed. There were just no breaks for him, were there? He'd been in Storybrooke for all of half an hour, and he was already positive that something supernatural or other was going on here. But what concerned him the most was the talk of this oh-so-special dagger. There was no possible way for it to be the same one. But, he reminded himself. You see the impossible every day. You live the impossible.

Nevertheless. He was positive that he had left all that behind. He'd made a life for himself. Hell, he'd become a wanted criminal throughout the nation, and died several times while doing the job he'd dedicated the most recent years of his life to. Still, the little voice in the back of his head nagged. It is possible.

"Shut up," he grumbled aloud.

He pulled over next to a promising building. The sign above the door read Granny's Bed and Breakfast. He cut the engine and headed on inside, only to find that the place needed some serious upkeep. It looked like they hadn't had a lot of visitors, if any in the past decade. Honestly, it was a wonder they were still in business.

"Hello?" he called out. When there was no answer, he rung the dusty bell on the front desk. To his shock, the elderly lady from the diner emerged from one of the back rooms with a puzzled look on her face.

"Can I help you?"

Dean looked around. "This is a b 'n' b, isn't it?"

She shuffled behind the desk with a bit of a sigh. "Yup. Can I get you a room?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied a bit sarcastically.

She sent him a withering glare. "I don't appreciate the sass, mister. Any special requests?" He shook his head. "No? Okay, then, how many nights you plan on staying?"

"Just a week, tops."

She handed him a guest log, which he signed as she fished through the keys on the wall next to her, eventually settling on one with what looked to be a bone engraved on the grip. "Here you go," she tossed it to him and he handed over the ledger. "Second floor, third door on the left. Street view, since I figure you don't wanna let that car outta your sight," at this, she nodded to the Impala out the window. "Welcome to Storybrooke."

---

"It should be one more block west," Neal told Emma, leading the way through the thickly populated streets of New York.

"Once we get the car, what do we do about Hook?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "He's made his way to New York, I'm sure he can make his way out of a basement. You have a problem leaving him behind?"

Emma thought back to her time in the Enchanted Forest and deadpanned, "Actually, I've done it before."

"Great."

"I'll admit," she started. "After all the things you've said, I'm surprised you'd rally to his side like this."

"There's a difference between running away from your father and watching him die in front of you," Neal insisted. "He may be a monster, but he's my blood."

Emma got the distinct feeling that he wasn't just talking about Rumplestiltkin. Yet she pushed, "What happens when he's healed?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll go try 'n find my brother?" He huffed as he shoved past yet another pedestrian. "Forgiveness ain't something I think is possible with them, though."