Notes: This is a Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU in which Belle in Storybrooke became the Slayer instead of Buffy in Sunnydale. The events of B:tVS never happened, and we are dealing with a world similar to the one at the beginning of the Buffy series, only years later. There is no fairytale world in this AU.

This is pre-Curse Spinner!Rum.

Hope you enjoy.

Rumplestiltskin Gold clutched the steering wheel of his rental car. There was no reason to be nervous. He was a Watcher. He was meeting the Slayer. She would be expecting him. All he had to do was go in there and say, "Hello, my name is Rumplestiltskin…"

…and watch as she burst into laughter. Like everyone did.

No. He wouldn't say that. He'd say, "Hello. My name is Mr. Gold. I'm your new Watcher." He would be calm, and collected, and cool. Like James Bond. And the Slayer would be impressed.

This was a new place, anyway. Nobody knew him in Storybrooke. He could tell people his name was something else. Rum, maybe. Rum sounded cool. Like a fun nickname. When the Slayer asked after his first name, he would tell her it was Rum. She wouldn't know no one had ever called him that before. This would be a new start.

Rumplestiltskin breathed deeply and tried to channel James Bond. "Hello," he said to the steering wheel. "My name is Mr. Gold. I'm your new Watcher."

The steering wheel did not reply.

Right. No time like the present. It wasn't as though this would get easier if he put it off.

Rumplestiltskin grabbed his cane and pushed open the car door. The martial arts studio loomed ominously before him. Trying not to think about what he was doing, Rumplestiltskin limped to the door and entered.

At first he thought the room was empty. It was a one-room storefront with a desk at the front and a large practice area, with not a soul in sight. As he stepped further in, he spotted her. The Slayer. She was slouched on the floor behind the desk, her back against the wall.

Immediately his heart began to pound. Something had attacked the Slayer, leaving her hunched and unresponsive on the floor. Something that might still be here. Rumplestiltskin's hands trembled violently on his cane.

Then he saw what was in her hands. A book.

Oh.

Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. There was no threat. The Slayer hadn't been hurt. She was curled on the floor with a book, absorbed in her reading.

He felt extremely foolish. And awkward. And with each passing second, as the woman continued to be oblivious to his presence, his awkwardness grew worse. How on earth was he supposed to introduce himself to the Slayer when she wasn't even looking at him?

He tried to clear his throat, but it came out more like a choking cough.

The woman on the floor looked up, giving Rumplestiltskin his first look at her face. His breath caught.

She was beautiful.
The grainy photograph he'd been given by the Watchers had in no way prepared him for the reality of her. Chestnut waves flowed over her shoulders. Bright blue eyes peered up at him from beneath long lashes. Her skin was smooth and touchable.

She smiled at him, and he thought his heart might stop.

"Hello!" She set the book down on the floor, still open to hold her place, and jumped to her feet. "Sorry about that! I didn't hear you come in."

The lovely lilt of her accent took him by surprise. He recalled that she'd been born in Australia, but according to her file, she'd lived in Maine for most of her life. He found her voice sweet and utterly disarming.

"Th-that's all right," Rumplestiltskin stammered.

She tilted her head. "Are you here about self-defense classes?"

Rumplestiltskin blinked. "What?"

She smiled again. "Self-defense classes. I can show you a schedule of our offerings, if you'd like."

"No, I—no, that's not why I'm here. I can't—I couldn't anyway—"

The Slayer's eyebrows knit together in mild confusion.

Rumplestiltskin gestured to his leg, then mentally cursed himself. He'd only just met her, this beautiful creature, the Slayer, and what does he do first? Point out his disability. Yes, that would impress her.

The Slayer just smiled. "That's no matter. A physical limitation doesn't have to stop you from learning to protect yourself. There's a basic self-defense for beginners class starting up this week if you're interested. Here, I have the schedule." She reached for a binder on the desk and began flipping through it.

"No. I didn't—that's not what I'm here for," Rumplestiltskin said again, wishing a hole would open up beneath him and swallow him up.

The Slayer stopped flipping pages and looked up at him. "Oh. I'm sorry. What can I help you with, sir?"

All of Rumplestiltskin's practiced words had flown right out of his head. "I'm—I came here—I—"

The Slayer smiled.

"I'm your Watcher," Rumplestiltskin said. "My name is… Mr. Gold."

Understanding dawned in the Slayer's eyes. "You're… my Watcher?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded once.

She looked at him now, really looked at him, taking in everything about him, from his simple cane to his tweed suit. Rumplestiltskin felt small and unimpressive under her gaze, but he tried to stand tall and make a good impression. Her eyes came back to his.

"You don't seem much like Gaston."

Rumplestiltskin winced at the comparison. Gaston Gray had been a confident young man, a skilled fighter, and a highly respected Watcher. No, Rumplestiltskin didn't have much in common with Gaston.

"I suppose you're right," he murmured.

The Slayer came around to the front of the desk, still regarding Rumplestiltskin intently. "I thought the Watchers' Council weren't going to send me another Watcher."

Rumplestiltskin blinked in surprise. "They didn't tell you I was coming?"

She shook her head. "The last conversation I had with them, they informed me that a twenty-five-year-old Slayer was not worth further investment. That I'd already lived far longer than any Slayer could be expected to survive. That my time was too limited. And that, after Gaston…" she hesitated, "I was too much of a risk."

Rumplestiltskin's mouth was dry. He shouldn't be surprised. It was all too like the Watchers to send him off to meet the Slayer without even giving her a warning of his arrival.

But he didn't know how to explain to her why they'd changed their minds. He didn't know how to tell her he was as little valued as she was.

The Slayer smiled suddenly. "Mr. Gold, was it? I think we're going to get along."

She held out her hand.

Rumplestiltskin took it.

A thrill went through him at the touch of her hand, which he tried to suppress. She was a beautiful, strong, young woman, and he was… what he was. A coward nearly twice her age.

Who was supposed to be her teacher.

"I'm sure we will, dearie," he said.

He turned to leave.

"Mr. Gold?"

Rumplestiltskin stopped and looked back at her.

"Do you have a first name? I'd rather not be so formal, if it's all right with you."

Her warm smile sent his heart thumping wildly again. "It's Rumplestiltskin," he said without thinking.

An instant later, he wanted to kick himself. Rum, he was supposed to tell her his name was Rum.

But the Slayer only beamed. "That's a wonderful name," she said. "So unique. I love it."

Something loosened in Rumplestiltskin's chest.

"You can call me Belle," the Slayer said.

He nodded.

Belle.

Through the front window, Belle watched Rumplestiltskin drive away.

Well. This was an interesting development.

The last time she'd spoken to the Watcher's Council, they'd been quite clear about their intentions. They were not interested in giving her any more support.

They'd rather let her die and start fresh with a new Slayer.

Well, Belle didn't have any intention of lying down and letting herself be killed. But if the Watchers wanted to wash their hands of her, that was fine with her. Because the truth was, after ten years as the Slayer, there was very little she could learn from the likes of Gaston Gray. She'd been living and breathing the Slayer's life since she was fifteen, and while she wasn't fool enough to think she had nothing left to learn, it was blatantly obvious that she was better equipped at slaying vampires than Gaston ever would be. Or ever would have been, had he lived.

Gaston was an arrogant bastard. Getting involved with him as more than her Watcher had been Belle's second biggest mistake.

Her biggest mistake was letting him get killed.

Belle would hold the guilt over his death in her heart forever, but she had to admit that not being under his watchful eye night and day was… nice.

She had come to terms with the idea that she would no longer be under the thumb of a Watcher, and had even begun to look forward to being left to her own devices, when Rumplestiltskin Gold walked through her door and took her completely by surprise. She didn't think it was possible for a person to be any more different from Gaston. Rumplestiltskin was an unimposing man, uncertain and shy. Where Gaston was a braggart, Rumplestiltskin seemed humble. Where Gaston was condescending, Rumplestiltskin was polite. Where Gaston was unsympathetic, Rumplestiltskin seemed kind.

He didn't have Gaston's rugged good looks, but there was something undeniably attractive about him. Her instincts told her that he was someone who would never hurt her.

If she had to be stuck with a Watcher, she thought Rumplestiltskin might be quite nice to have around.

Belle pulled out her phone and dialed the one and only friend she had. One of only two people she'd ever told her secret identity.

"Granny's Diner," Ruby said.

"Ruby," Belle said, "you won't believe what just happened. I have a new Watcher."

"What!?"

"I'm coming over. I'll tell you over fries."

Storybrooke was a small town, which meant it took Rumplestiltskin only a few minutes to get from the martial arts center to his new apartment. Baelfire was sitting on the floor, rummaging through one of the many cardboard boxes, when Rumplestiltskin walked in.

A pang of guilt hit Rumplestiltskin once again for uprooting the boy as he had. Any move was hard on a child, but moving nearly halfway around the world was far worse. Rumplestiltskin knew Baelfire would miss his friends in London terribly, and he hated knowing that Bae would most likely be celebrating his fourteenth birthday with no one but his old papa.

But melancholy would do neither of them any good. Rumplestiltskin brushed these thoughts aside. "Not much point in unpacking until we get some furniture in here." His tone was deliberately light.

Baelfire looked up. "You're back! How did it go?"

"It was fine." Rumplestiltskin walked to the one piece of furniture in the room, a wooden kitchen chair left by the previous tenants. He sat, taking the pressure off his aching knee. "What are you looking for?"

Bae glanced down at the box. "Oh. I thought I'd take a shower, but I can't find the shampoo or soap."

Rumplestiltskin gestured with his cane. "The box right there, Bae. The one marked 'bath.'"

Baelfire barely looked at the box in question. "What about the Slayer, papa? What is she like?"

Rumplestiltskin tensed in spite of himself. "It's just business, Bae. Why so interested?"

Baelfire looked at him as though he'd grown another head. "Papa. She's the Slayer. The Chosen One."

His son, always so taken by stories of glory and bravery. The thought of Bae anywhere near vampires or Slayers made Rumplestiltskin shudder. "I don't want you involved in all of that. This business, it's not safe."

His son sighed. "I know, papa. I'm not going to get involved. I just want to know about her."

Rumplestiltskin hesitated. "She's —"

Amazing. Wonderful. Beautiful.

"—very kind, I think. Friendly. We didn't speak much, but… I think it will be nice to work with her."

"Can I meet her?"

Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows. "Bae."

"I'm not getting involved! It's just—she's the only person we know in town."

Guilt hit Rumplestiltskin again. "Oh, son. You'll make friends soon enough." He didn't know who he was trying to convince more, Bae or himself.

"I know, but—" Baelfire fidgeted with his sleeve, "well, if you want me to be safe, what better friend could I have than the Slayer?"

"Slayers don't have friends, Bae." Rumplestiltskin worked to keep the pleading out of his voice, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "Friends are a weakness. They become targets for their enemies. I don't want that to happen to you."

Baelfire sighed.

Rumplestiltskin's heart melted. "Don't worry, Bae. I know this is hard, but we'll get used to it soon enough."

Bae smiled, but Rumplestiltskin could tell it was a front. "You're right, papa. Forget I said anything."

Rumplestiltskin should have felt better about winning the argument. He didn't. He just felt empty.

"I've got an idea," he said with false cheer. "Why don't you go take that shower, and then we can go out for dinner. I saw a nice little diner on the way home. Granny's, I think it was called."

"Bring him in."

Two fledgling vampires dragged a man into the black and white office. He was covered in dirt and wearing many layers of clothing. The vampires dropped him on the floor. He looked up at the woman before him, smiling insolently.

"Madam Mayor." His tone made it clear that the title was anything but respectful. "I had no idea you wanted to see me. You could have simply asked, you know."

Regina, mayor and vampire queen of Storybrooke, stepped towards him, smiling coldly. "So this is the great Dark One I've heard so much about. I must admit, Zoso, you're not what I expected."

Zoso sat back on his heels. "I'm not what anyone expects."

"Indeed." Her lips curved in a smile. "I have a proposition for you."

"Oh, I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes." Zoso stood. At full height, he towered over the queen, even with her stiletto heels. "You've heard whispers that the Dark One knows certain secrets. That death can be cheated. That a certain young man who met, shall we say, a rather unfortunate end, could be brought back to this world."

Regina stepped closer. "And is it true?"

Zoso smirked. "Oh, it's true. But do you understand the deal you want to make?"

"I don't care." The words came quickly. "Whatever your price, I'll pay it. Just bring him back to me."

Zoso grinned broadly and gave a mocking bow. "Then, my dear," he declared, "you and I are in business."