A/N: I thought I'd try something a little different this time. :) Here's hoping you guys enjoy!

Warning: possible spoilers.

I own neither show, just the story.

Dean Winchester, beer in hand, sank down onto the couch in Rufus' old cabin, a selection of newspapers spread out beside him. He popped the cap on his bottle, taking an appreciative swig before picking up the paper nearest him. The headliner was his new obsession, the untouchable Dick Roman, the leader of the Leviathans that had escaped Purgatory, piggybacking inside Castiel.

They'd been working for almost a year, trying to figure out a way to off the Leviathan. It seemed that they kept hitting dead ends. Bobby had died in the line of duty, and though they'd given him a hunter's burial, he'd dodged his reaper. His spirit was now bound to the flask Dean carried in his pocket.

He sighed, his eyes weary from reading. It seemed that was all he'd been doing lately. He missed Bobby. The man had always had the answers. Frank had been a poor substitution for the hunter, but he'd been collecting vital information for them before he'd been killed. He'd gotten too close. The boys were truly on their own this time, relying on their own knowledge and their own experience to save the world.

It had been weeks since they'd worked a normal job. Sometimes it seemed that everything else had faded. Their "normal" had taken a backseat, regardless of how many people were suffering. The sooner they defeated the Leviathan, the sooner they could get back to exorcisms, hauntings, and the like.

Dean's eyes lingered over the smiling picture of Dick Roman, taking up the largest panel of the folded newspaper. The familiar anger fueled the fire in his stomach as he stared, his mind replaying their botched rescue of Bobby, hearing the gunshot that had ended the older hunter's life. He'd sworn vengeance, justice for Bobby, and he was frustrated that they were no closer to fulfilling that promise.

His cellphone rang, shaking him out of his reverie. Sighing, he tossed the newspaper aside and flipped the phone open.

"'lo?" He greeted, his brows furrowing together as he listened. He sat forward, his elbows coming to rest on his knees. "What? Garth, slow down."

Sam closed the front door behind him with his foot, sitting the grocery bags down on the table. He grabbed his own beer and moved to perch on the arm of the recliner.

"That doesn't make sense." Dean rolled his eyes. The last time Garth had called, they'd ended up drunk, fighting a monster one could only see while smashed. It had been a wonder they'd survived. "Why are we just hearin' about it now?" He took another drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Garth, Garth...no. You know we're after Dick. We can't..." he frowned deeply. "No," he sighed, "you've never led us wrong before. We'll meet up." He snapped his phone closed, blinking slowly before looking over at Sam. "That was Garth."

"Um, yeah, Dean." He palmed his bottle. "What'd he want?"

"He wants us," he pointed between the two of them, "to uncover what he says is a twenty-eight year old government cover up."

"Which is?"

"A black mass the size of a small city in Maine." He downed the rest of his beer. "He...uh...he wouldn't say anything else."

"It doesn't have anything to do with the Leviathan."

Dean looked over at the newspapers and shook his head. "We're not really gettin' any closer to ending that either."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. After a few long moments, Dean pushed himself off the couch, snatching their bag from the corner.

"We're going?" Sam asked.

"Might as well," Dean growled, picking up some clean laundry from the hamper and roughly folding it, shoving it into the bag. "We can sit here diggin' for the next century, getting' nowhere, or we can go get our hands dirty...do something...anything." He turned to his brother. "We can do this," he pointed at the couch, at the walls where clippings had been pasted, "anywhere."

Sam offered him a small smile, joining him to pack. "I was starting to go a little crazy myself." His back was to the make-shift pasted mural on the wall. "I mean, I do have Dick starin' at me all day."

Dean chuckled bitterly, taking special care to tuck the flask into the bag. "Then let's blow this popsicle stand, Sammy." He threw the bag over his shoulder and started out the door. "And grab the food, would ya?"

Used to a life style of packing light and moving at a moment's notice, it took only minutes for them to be on the road, heading toward Maine to meet up with Garth. It was a long drive, made mostly in silence. The boys had exhausted all the information they had on Dick Roman and his growing army, and no matter how many ways they spun it, they had no idea what was happening next. Clearing their heads with a fresh case seemed to be just what the doctor ordered. By the time they crossed the state line into Maine, they already seemed to be in lighter spirits.

Garth was waiting for them at in the parking lot of a rather seedy looking motel. Dean climbed out of the car, looking around, nodding slightly. "Dude,...what is it with you and hot-pillow motels?"

"People here mind their own business," Garth retorted, a smirk on his face. "Besides, for the story I've got, we're gonna want some privacy." He gestured for them to follow, leading them to the room at the end of the building.

It was difficult to take Garth as a serious hunter. His slight stature, skinny frame, and nerdy appearance did very little to inspire fear, but he had proven several times over that he had a keen mind and had a knack for pulling unusual cases out of thin air. He'd caught details about the last case they'd worked together that neither Winchester had seen. He knew that the janitor had been the ax-man's son. He'd gotten the little girl to speak about the death of her mother. He'd inadvertently carried the case, even if he hadn't physically killed the monster.

"So," Dean perched on the arm of the ratty sofa, "what have you found?"

Garth smiled widely, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "It was an accident really. I was up here working on a case,...had a run in with some feds. I worked a little magic of my own. Turns out, there's some Area 51 shit happening here, and those agents the government swears they don't have...well, yeah, there's three patrols a day sitting outside this...black mass. Thing is, this mass is the size of a small city and it appeared exactly twenty-eight years ago. They've got scientists studying it, but no one is getting anywhere. Any probe sent in disappears. No footage, nothing. Just gone."

Sam blinked, studying Garth closely. His brow furrowed. "You just...got federal agents to...talk to you about this?"

Garth shrugged. "People tell me things."

"What's this got to do with us?" Dean asked warily.

"I got called out for another case, so I need someone to take this one. The reason I called you guys...is because I went up to the patrol line, and it's not a black mass."

"It's not?"

"Obviously no one else can see it. There's land there, Dean. I could see a town sign."

"Meaning magic," Sam surmised.

The gangly hunter snapped his fingers, pointing at Sam. "My thoughts exactly. I mean, we don't know if there are people caught in there or anything...so I figured you were the guys to call." He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Interested?"

Sam and Dean exchanged calculating glances. The case clearly piqued their interest. The only issue was deciding if they had time to take off.

"Oh, and to sweeten the deal," he paused, making sure he had their attention, "the only thing on the map in that area...is forest. There's never been a town there...at least not according to any document or map I've ever seen."

Dean pulled himself up to his full height, staring Garth down. "This had better be something."

"I'm sure it is." Garth reached behind him to the rickety beside table, grabbing his jacket. "Gimme a call when you figure it out. I'm curious."

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

The young hunter sighed, stretching richly. "Georgia. My lady love has laid down the law after the shojo...nothing too dangerous. So, I'll stick with a haunting, you guys can go adventure." He handed Dean a folded map. "Everything's marked, best I can tell. So, um,...have fun, guys." He moved to the door.

Dean cleared his throat. "By the way, Garth," he waited for the hunter to turn back to him, offering him an awkward gaze, "you were right...about the flask. Bobby...Bobby's here...with the flask."

The smile faded from Garth's face. "I had hoped I was wrong."

Dean shook his head.

"What happened?"

"He uh," Sam scratched his eyebrow with this thumb, ending in an awkward shrug, "dodged his reaper. He's stuck...and not in a good way."

"Still helpin' us out where he can, but we're losin' 'im. He's a loose cannon. Learned to move things, so he's hid his flask a few times so he can get in...do things we can't..."

"And our leviathan friends?"

Dean nodded, conveying all he needed to.

"Well,...call me when...if you need help." He offered a small, sad salute and continued to his car, started the engine, and pulled away, leaving the boys alone.

Dean spread the map out on the bed, immediately searching for what Garth had marked for them. Sam stood beside him, his hands on his hips as he studied the area.

"What do you think?" the younger Winchester asked.

"Might as well check it out." He folded up the map, slipped it in his jacket pocket and nodded toward the door. "After you."

"That's definitely not a black mass," Sam murmured, glancing out from around the tree trunk they were hiding behind. The promised patrol was less than a stone's throw away.

"Can you make out that sign?" Dean asked, squinting toward the area behind the patrol.

"We need to get closer."

"Dude, we dunno what happens when we cross over that barrier."

Sam lifted his hands, raising his eyebrows as he looked at his brother. Dean sighed, nodding.

"One, two, three."

"Dean, seriously? Always with the scissors."

"Dammit." Reluctantly, he passed the bag to his brother, taking a fortifying breath. He slipped out from behind the tree, keeping himself as low to the ground as he could while sprinting toward the boundary. He held his breath and launched himself forward, expecting to meet resistance. He found none, instead stumbling to an unsteady halt. He blinked, looking around him, taking mental stock of himself. He seemed to be unchanged and unharmed, and the area he stood in looked just the same as the one he'd left. Slowly, he turned on his heel, relieved to see Sam still watching from the shelter of the thick trunk. He motioned his brother over.

Sam folded his tall frame as close to the ground as he could and moved quickly toward Dean. He didn't pause when he heard the calls for him to halt from the officers on the road. The calls were silenced as soon as he landed beside his brother. He looked back, watching the agents sprint toward them only to stop short, their eyes blindly searching in front of them.

"Huh," Sam managed, curious.

"They obviously can't see us." Dean waved.

"I see that."

The older Winchester grinned. "Let's go."

Together, they turned, walking toward the marker they'd seen, pausing by the well manicured sign.

"Storybrook."

tbc...

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you need perspective for setting:

SPN – Season 7, just after 'Of Grave Importance'

Once Upon a Time – just after 'The Stranger'