Disclaimer: This is an AU crossover flashback that plays around with young Dean/Emma because sometimes I obsess over Swanchester and can't get enough of it! The AU takes place right after Sam goes to college and right before the Tallahassee episode flashback. Just a quick one shot that will be a few chapters long that I've been working on for a little while now. I own neither series, nor their characters. I hope you enjoy! :)

It was the turn of the century, and Dean Winchester was just starting to get used to traveling on his own. His brother had just left him and his father to go off to college. Dean's dad had taken the leave pretty hard, but not as rough as Dean. Sammy was his brother, and he just betrayed his family. Dean couldn't understand it, didn't want to think about it.

He'd been ecstatic whenever his dad gave him the Impala. He'd been in love with the car for as long as he could remember. Hell, it was the only home he'd ever known.

His dad was working a job in California, leaving Dean to work a few jobs by himself. He was on his way to Washington to this little town where a suspected spirit was haunting a local truck stop. Every ten years around this time, five semi-trucks and their drivers have vanished. A few days later just their drivers are found dead on the side of the road. And after the last truck disappeared, somewhere around the truck stop catches on fire. Dean had picked up the trend and believed a spirit was haunting either the truck stop or the land it sat on. He hadn't really figured out why, but that didn't matter. As long as he stopped the spirit, that's all that mattered.

Two trucks had already gone missing over the last three weeks. According to his calculations, the next disappearance would be in the upcoming day or two. Dean pulled into the motel next door to the truck stop and got a room. Just a few weeks, that's how long he predicted the hunt should take.

"The Moonlight Diner on this strip has some of the best BBQ in these parts. It's not really crowded, just a couple of truckers and travelers. The service is friendly, the waitresses aren't bad to look at either. But what they're known best for is their pie," the man at the front desk told Dean when he asked about a good place to catch a bite.

Dean was convinced at pie. He saluted his thanks to the kind man and headed out the door to his room. He grabbed his EMF monitor, his shot gun and extra rock salt shells, his lucky hand gun, lighter fluid, salt, and lighter, throwing them all in his bag. He was on his way to the town's police department to con his way into getting some of the records of the past deaths at the truck stop.

He looked out the window towards where he'd parked his Baby. He decided to keep it in the shade sort of away from the other cars parked in the lot. What he saw got his blood boiling.

Someone was breaking into his car.

He couldn't see the bastard's face, just the outline of a figure in a black hood. He grabbed his keys and ran out the door, but the thief had made it inside his car and got it to start by the time he made it out there, hitting the gas and flooring it out of the parking lot.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled. He looked around at the empty lot and noticed another car parked nearby. Dean also knew how to break into a car, so he worked his magic on the station wagon and raced to catch up with his Baby.

Dean was a good tracker, so he caught up with the thief soon enough. He noticed that the guy was driving in a circle around the town, then made their way back to the truck stop. Confused, Dean trailed the guy until he parked in the back of the truck stop strip. He parked a little ways away from him and got out of the car, securing his gun in his back pocket. He ran over to his car and opened his Baby's door, pulling on the arm of the thief rather forcefully.

"You filthy son of a bitch! You think you can just steal my car and get away with it?" he yelled as he pulled the guy out.

When Dean finally got them out and pushed them against the car, he pulled the hood off the guy's head… and a long wave of bright blonde hair spilled out of the fabric.

"I'm sorry!" the woman pleaded, holding up her hands in defense.

"What the hell?" Dean asked, total shock showing in his face.

The woman saw his moment of surprise and used it to her advantage. She pulled down on Dean's shoulder and brought her leg up to knee him in the gut. Dean groaned, toppling over in pain as the woman ran away. She got in the station wagon Dean had stolen and made her escape. Dean, still in pain, stood up and watched her drive away, still unsure of what exactly had just happened.

The research had been a bust. There were too many deaths over the last century for him to narrow anything down. He'd have to go back tomorrow or try the library to figure out what exactly he was missing.

He couldn't get the girl who had stolen his car out of his mind. The nerve of her to try and steal his car. But it wasn't just that. He may have only caught a glimpse of her, but he had to admit she was pretty. She was probably just a few years younger than him, probably Sammy's age. Definitely not the type of car thief he'd been expecting. Still, he hoped he would never have to run into the brat again.

Dean pulled into the hotel and parked the car near the front office, that way there would be less of a chance of someone trying to steal it again. His stomach started to growl, so he decided to try out the bar the guy at the desk had mentioned.

He walked down the strip and opened the door, taking a seat at the front counter. Now that he was working alone, he didn't see much of a reason to take up an entire table.

The menu in front of him looked promising, and the aroma of the BBQ was pleasing his senses.

"Welcome to Moonlight Diner, can I help you?"

Dean looked up to the waitress who stood on the other side of the bar. The same bright blonde hair that was all too familiar was pulled back into a pony tail, attached to it the same pretty and surprised face of the young woman who had tried to steal his car.

Realization of who exactly he was began to unfold in her eyes, her facial expression starting to drop. "Oh shit," she sighed.

Dean chuckled, of course this turn of events would be happening to him. He held up his hand and pointed to her, "So let me get this straight. You steal a car from the parking lot next door," he dropped his voice slightly so that those around couldn't hear him. "Then you drive it to the bar, again, right next door. Where you apparently work. Where is the reason in that?"

She scoffed, "I drove it around town first to throw off the trail!"

"You didn't throw me off, sweetheart."

"Well most of these country bumpkins aren't as quick as you are," she snapped in a hushed tone, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

A cocky smile spread across his lips. "What were you doing trying to steal my car anyway?"

"Trying? I stole it. You just stole it back," she smirked. "It's a nice car."

Dean nodded, "I think so too. That's why I stole it back."

The woman leaned down against the bar top, "You're not going to rat me out, are you?"

He looked at the desperate look in the woman's eyes and decided to drop it. "No. Just don't touch my Baby again. And next time you should try finding a car in a little less conspicuous area. Like the back of an alley or something."

"Deal," she held out her hand for him to shake. He did so and chuckled. "So what brings you here? You're not a trucker and you don't look like anyone from around this small town. Traveling?"

Dean shrugged. "Sort of. I'm from the FBI, working on a case. These disappearing truckers, know anything about it?"

"You're not from the FBI," she said matter-of-fact-like. Dean scrunched his brow, opening his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "First of all, you wouldn't have reacted like that when you caught me stealing your car. Second, you don't even look like you're from the FBI. And third, I can always tell when people are lying. It's sort of a superpower. And you're lying."

His mouth had remained open as he listened to her. He closed it, unsure how to reply. Dean ran his fingers threw his hair and laughed nervously. "Well, I'm still working on the case. A bit of a free-lance detective, sort of. How about that?"

She studied him, and then shrugged. "I buy it."

Dean watched as she began to chew on the end of her pen, probably a nervous habit. She was, as he recalled, very pretty. In fact, he started to question his guess that she was a few years younger than him. But then a coworker walked behind her and paused for a moment, whispering in the waitress' ear. The coworker, very not-so-subtly, checked out Dean before whispering and when she noticed that Dean was watching, she blushed a deep read. His waitress giggled and playfully nudged the coworker away, who again made a quick look at Dean before she left the bar. Dean's ego was on fire, and he felt himself smirking at the effect he had on women. He couldn't blame them, it would be cruel if he did. But it was his waitress' giggle that revealed her youth. It was an act he bet she didn't do often; or something she couldn't do often. But in that moment, her sharp facial features that made her look more mature than she really was faded to reveal a youthful joy that was carried in her cloudy green eyes.

He was staring at her - and she was getting uncomfortable. He could tell by the way her eyes avoided his as she moved about behind the counter, refilling drinks and dispersing food orders.

She finally walked back over to Dean and cleared her throat. "So, agent, you were saying?"

Dean laughed lightly and looked down, trying to lighten the situation a little. "What'd she say about me?" he playfully asked with a wink.

She rolled her eyes, "She said that leather jacket's too big on you."

Dean frowned, and defensively straightened his jacket, sitting up a tad straighter. "Don't knock the leather threads. This is an awesome jacket and I look good in it."

She shook her head and bit her lip, but smiled nonetheless. "Do you want food or something? Or are you just staying here to bother me?"

Dean chuckled. He did need to concentrate. He was here on a job and he needed to start finding information from the locals. What better way than by asking his waitress? "So do you know anything about the truck disappearances?"

She creased her brow, obviously surprised by his question despite that he mentioned he was working on the case. "Well, I've only been here for a few months. But I was here on both of the nights that those two truckers disappeared. I usually work the late shift, just me and a couple of other people in the bar. I tried to tell the sheriff what I saw, but he said it was bogus."

Dean leaned forward a bit, "What did you see?"

She smiled and shook her head, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I bet I'd believe a lot more than you'd think," he smiled back.

She bit her lip and looked around the quiet bar, probably making sure those around couldn't hear her. She exhaled a deep breath, readjusted her black rimmed glasses, and leaned down against the bar again. "It was probably just my imagination. But that's what I told myself the first time. A couple of weeks ago, around 2 am, there was this strange fog outside. There were only a few truckers in the bar, so we weren't very busy and there wasn't much for me to do. I went outside during my break for some fresh air and noticed one of the semi-trucks pulling out of the station. But as it pulled out onto the road, the fog began to grow thicker and I could barely see in front of me. A few seconds later, it lifted… and the truck was no longer there. No tail lights or head lights down a ways on either side of the road. Just, nothing. When I looked back at where I thought I saw it last, I swore I saw a woman. But the fog was heavy, so it could have been my imagination."

"Then what happened?"

She shrugged, "I couldn't really make anything out. I thought I was going crazy seeing things, and eventually I talked myself out of it. But then the second truck went missing. That night was just the same. The time, the fog, the atmosphere. I was cleaning off a table when I looked out the window and saw another woman. Just standing in the road. But like I said, the sheriff said it was nothing."

"How did he know it was nothing?"

She pointed towards the gas station, "There's a security camera that has a clear shot of the station's entrance. When I kept insisting that there was someone there, he let me see the footage myself. The fog was so thick, it made it pretty difficult for the camera to focus. But you could faintly see the truck pulling out on the road. Then the picture went fuzzy for a little bit, but the sheriff said that happened a lot with old equipment. And then the truck just wasn't there anymore. But there was no woman either."

Dean felt himself wanting to roll his eyes at the sheriff's equipment excuse. He hated the local police because they just didn't know the truth. They didn't know what was really going on out there and they ended up screwing up the crime scene when he and his dad got there. But he kept his attention on the waitress and her story. "What did she look like?"

Her eyes looked up and her nose scrunched up a little, as if she were trying to draw up a file from her memory. "She was pretty far away, and it was foggy – but from what I could see, she looked almost transparent and pale. Especially against the darkness. She had long pale hair and she was wearing this torn up dress. She was just standing in the road, and then the next second, she wasn't."

Dean thought back to the records that he had looked through earlier this morning, trying to see if any of the descriptions fit the one his waitress was telling him. He decided that tomorrow he would go down to find some more city records.

The waitress rose an eye brow, "Does that help any?"

"Yeah, yeah definitely. Thank you," he nodded.

She smiled, "No problem. So, do you want something to eat?"

"Only if you tell me your name," Dean smirked.

She shook her head, biting her lip. "Emma. Emma Swan."

"Dean Winchester," he held out his hand and they shook again.