Disclaimer: As you can probably tell from the fact I'm rewriting seasons in fanfiction, I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of its characters.

The ambulance was there within five minutes. Mr. Gold and Belle hadn't said a word to each other during the entire wait.

Once he had checked them both over for injuries, of which there were none, he had gone over to the crashed vehicle. The car had lost a game of chicken with a boulder, and the damage looked serious. He peered through the gap where the window had shattered, watching the air bag slowly deflate.

"Is he dead?" Belle asked, hardly moved from where they had been.

"He's breathing," Mr. Gold said, pulling out his phone and dialing the hospital, "Who knows for how long, though. Hello, there's been an accident at the town line, send an ambulance immediately. …it doesn't matter who I am, does it, dearie? Just hurry before he bleeds out." He hung up and continued to glance around inside, searching for clues to the man's identity.

There was a cell phone flung onto the floor of the passenger's side. No doubt he was texting and driving…

"Belle" made no further comments as they stood by their car, waiting for help to show up. As if her sudden dismissal of Baelfire wasn't a glaring red flag of its own, her lack of concern for the stranger was definitely a sign she wasn't herself. He would've had to hold the Belle he knew back as she went to immediately heal him, explaining that this wasn't another August Booth; the barrier had been broken both ways, and this was probably just some lost tourist who had accidentally stumbled across their fairytale town.

The ambulance arrived, followed closely by the sheriff's car. While the medics went to see to the outsider, Emma and her father went towards the Golds.

"I really shouldn't be surprised that the hostile anonymous tip came from you," she groused, eyeing them, "Do I want to know why you're out here witnessing this?"

"Just some late night experimenting," he said innocently, causing her to wrinkle her nose.

"You could have just healed him," Charming insisted, speaking more to Belle than Mr. Gold. Belle didn't defend their decision; she even looked slightly amused at the suggestion.

"He was driving into Storybooke," Mr. Gold explained. When it was clear neither of them caught on to what he was implying, he continued, "If he had suddenly woken up completely healed after a near fatal crash, he'd probably start wondering why that was. Maybe start poking around, asking questions."

"And that maybe's worth more than a man's life?" Emma asked.

"Needs of the many, Miss Swan. Come on, Belle." He gestured towards the car. She followed without protest, and oddly enough neither of the Charmings stopped them.

It felt as if he had scratched himself raw and kept scratching at his bare nerves, every shift making the pain that much worse. He wanted to scream and lash out, but instead he just started the car.

"…did she take your heart?" He murmured, watching her out of the corner of his eye, praying she'd find some way to signal to him that he was right, that yes there was more to it than the inevitable he faced with everyone he ever cared about.

Belle laughed, "You're really blowing this out of proportion."

"I'm not." He waited for the ambulance to take off with their charge and the sheriff's car to pass by, both of the Charmings giving them looks as they slowly passed, "You've always claimed to see the man behind the beast. Well, I know my beauty when I see her. You might not be able to tell me directly if she did, but I know something's wrong."

"People change, Rumple," she said, "Surely you don't think I'm the same noblelady you traded for."

"You chose to go with me," he hissed.

"Yes what a choice that was, have my kingdom be destroyed or be the prisoner of the Dark One."

"Stop it..."

"Stop what? Speaking the truth?"

"You've never resented me for that; you were happy to break it off with Gaston and be a hero."

"Not that I've told you."

"Just stop!" The heel of his hand struck the steering wheel twice in time with his words, "I know you! I've known you for years!"

"Clearly not," she glanced out the window, "We should follow them to the hospital."

Having no energy to protest, he drove towards Storybrooke General. All of his energy was busy trying to hold himself together as his heart and mind threatened to unravel. Cora would have no clue how he met Belle, and he doubted she would have volunteered that information to the Queen of Hearts.

It was happening again. It was happening again and he had no idea what to do. He had survived his first marriage disintegrating… But he would not survive it if he lost Belle.

III

It was disheartening how easy it was to jump to any world BESIDES the World Without Magic, Belle thought as she followed her husband down the concrete stairs. If one had the resources they could spend their whole lives hopping from world to world, exploring every discovered land… Belle thought if she were the Dark One and had no one who'd miss her that's what she'd do. Maybe she'd even discover a new land…

She shivered as the chill of the underground corridor passed over her.

"I told you to bring a jacket," Rumple said, shrugging the dragonskin one off his shoulders and shimmying it down his arms.

"You never said it was underground," she insisted, letting him drape it over her like a cloak.

"What does that have to do with anything? I warned you this world is notoriously chilly."

"You said no such thing."

He turned to protest and was stopped with the image of Belle pulling the coat tightly around her, bright blue eyes full of fake innocence as she pressed her nose against the collar, breathing it in as if her face were buried in his neck.

"…I'm starting to think the fact you NEVER bring a coat anywhere is on purpose."

"You're silly," she claimed, keeping it wrapped around her like a fuzzy blanket on a cold day.

The corridor flowed into an open chamber with a large trench cutting through the center of it. A couple benches were set near near the edge, a handful of people idling around them. Most didn't look nearly as affluent as Belle imagined portal-hoppers would be.

They tensed at the sight of Rumplestiltskin; a couple hands went to belts. He sighed.

"I miss Jefferson," he lamented, not attempting to move closer.

They waited in quiet hostility for a few minutes, conversation sparse even between the two of them. The tension was broken with a low wailing horn coming from the far side. The bench dwellers rose and neared the trench and they followed suit.

"It's a bit jolting, this way of portal-jumping," he apologized, grasping her hand tightly, "Just follow the leader."

She was about to ask what he meant when a sudden flash of movement started down the trench. Tall as a house but far longer, Belle couldn't get a good look at whatever it was supposed to be; it was just a blur of browns and blacks. People started to jump, actually jump at it, and disappeared in the haze.

"I would've preferred the pond again," she said as Rumple put his arm around her, guiding her to the edge.

"You'll like it better once you get a good look," he insisted, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"…now!"

It was a lopsided jump even with the warning. In the blink of an eye, the blur came into focus, and her knees buckled as her feet hit solid ground. Rumplestiltskin held her steady, but she still swayed with the…room? It was too dark to know exactly where they were.

"What is this?" She asked.

He gave a gleeful little giggle, "Can't guess? Hang on."

He inched around until he found a wall and placed Belle's hand on it before abandoning her. Belle tried to stay on her feet as it lurched around, feeling cool metal under her hand. There was some sort of noise coming from all sides, similar to waves but much more consistent and harsher.

A door rattled open and light flooded the container. It was almost completely empty save for a few boxes and Belle wobbily made her way to her husband. He held out his arm, both to steady her and to keep her from falling.

The world outside the box flew past them as if they were riding at full gallop, every shade of gray imaginable passing by. She caught glimpses of grass and trees, fields and roads and wildlife. She lurched forward, using Rumple as an anchor as she stuck her head out.

"Belle!" He cried out, "Please, dear, be careful!"

Her curls whipped behind her as she craned her neck. It was a gigantic metal snake that she couldn't see the head or tail of, winding through the country-side on dozens of wheels. It gave another wail and Belle cried out in delight.

She turned to look at Rumple and saw her joy reflected in him, "What is this?!" She exclaimed, beaming.

"They call it a train," he yelled over the wind, "It's like a very, very large carriage."

"What's pulling us?! It can't be horses!"

"Nothing's pulling us, it runs on steam."

She arched an eyebrow, trying to figure out if he was messing with her, "Steam… Like that comes from a kettle?"

"Something along those lines." He pulled her back in, fixing her hair, "Since the magic here is so limited, they've had to explore alternative methods to advance. They call it science, laws that govern how things should work."

"Like steam power."

"Like everything. It's very arrogant, you should listen to Victor go off about it."

As they rode the metal steam-driven dragon, Belle's chest began to ache. She couldn't avoid thinking that this was the sort of invention her father would have loved. Rumple sensed her melancholy and leaned back as much as their embrace would allow.

"Honestly dearie, you'll only get underfoot if you go along on this errand with me," he said casually, "You should just go explore the city when we arrive."

She gave a small smile, pulling herself closer, "You can stop that now. Your game of pretend is over, I know you love me."

Rumplestiltskin snorted, turning his face away from her, "Little maid so full of herself… Just because I married you it doesn't mean I love you. Quite the opposite, actually, I must hate you to force you to be with me forever."

She wanted to kiss him, a spiteful reminder of just how much they loved each other… But she didn't want to ruin the trip. She bumped her nose against his cheek as a substitute and reached for his hand to hold.

She admired the poetry, her pale normal skin against his glittering odd complexion, the only color in a gray world. Their wedding rings clinked together as the train rocked, and it seemed the perfect portrait of their relationship. So completely different from each other, from the world, but still united, ready to take anything and everything on.

II

Mr. Gold's thumb played with the gold band around his finger, twisting it around and around as he stared at the far wall, listening to the soundtrack of a waiting room. He had managed to force them to keep their distance for awhile, but the memories continued to pester the back of his mind. That was the hallway where he had been forced to tell Belle that they weren't bringing home a child. Not far was the room where she had lain, pale as death, as she recovered from giving up a part of herself so that her ungrateful father could live.

Every time they had come here it had meant pain for Belle, physically or emotionally. That of course meant that every time they had come here had been agony to him, and now was no different. Belle had denounced Baelfire as her son. Belle refused to say that anything was wrong, while her behavior had gone from unusual to completely, utterly Not Her.

What had happened? What had gone wrong? Why wouldn't she tell him?

He hated the thought the moment it entered his head, but he had no defense against it anymore. She was… She was acting like how Milah had acted, after he returned disgraced from war.

Guilt flooded him as he saw her come from where Victor had been conversing with the Charmings and Company. He stood and she motioned towards the infamous hallway. He wasn't sure why they were looking for privacy, or why she'd pick that spot, but he followed her anyway.

She turned to face him, frowning, "He's bleeding internally. Not a full flood…but without intervention he'll drown in his own blood."

Hope stirred within him, "And?"

"And of course the Charmings want to save him, regardless of the fallout."

He straightened, "Of course. And I'm sure they want a bit more certainty than an intoxicated surgeon can offer."

"Well they'll take whatever they can get."

Their eyes met and he waited, barely holding back his teasing question of what she'd offer if he went to help. He wanted to believe he knew what was coming next, was desperate for her bleeding heart to act up and for her to insist on joining in on something that wasn't their fight. He needed to see the woman who had promised to go with the Dark One to save her village.

"So?" He murmured, holding his breath.

She frowned, "So we can't depend on the voice of reason to prevail… Or that the good doctor's drunk enough to make a fatal mistake."

The wisp of hope vanished, cold thick despair taking its place, "…you want me to kill him?"

"Of course, he's too much of a liability to be kept alive."

"He doesn't know anything," he insisted, "To him this could all be a normal town."

"Well it wouldn't take much time for him to learn the truth, now would it?"

He straightened, gripping his cane tighter and drawing a deep breath, "No."

Belle's eyebrows shot up, "…no?"

"No," he swallowed roughly, "…I'm not going to kill an innocent man."

"You've done it plenty of times before for much pettier reasons."

"And now I'm trying to do the right thing. Isn't that what you want from me, to do good whenever I can?"

"Not when there's a threat to the entire town."

"You're acting like he watched me throw some magic about. If he actually becomes a threat, he will be dealt with." He leaned back, studying her, "Since when are you so bloodthirsty? What the hell happened in the Enchanted Forest?"

"I had time to think," she folded her arms, "About us, about this fruitless quest to find your son-"

"It is NOT fruitless!" He snapped. A few heads turned and his grip tightened on his cane, "He's my son," he hissed in a much lower voice.

"And what if he rejects you? What if you've come all this way and he turns you out, assuming you'll find him at all?"

"You're acting psychotic," he insisted.

"And you're a coward." And that was a dig he could've taken; god knew he had before. But as she turned away, she added another callous remark, "No wonder Milah left you."

Ice filled his chest; he thought for a minute he might actually throw up right then and there. They had engaged in some pretty knock-out drag-out fights, but she had never been this cruel. And, as tempting as it was to think she was under the control of someone else, his Belle was smart enough to let him know if that were the case.

Panic rushed through him. She had been speaking the truth then. The fantasy that he had been living, that someone could love him forever, had finally dissipated. Whatever spell she had been under was over, and she no longer wanted him. Continuing to deny it would only cause more agony in the long run.

For the second time in his centuries of life, he was clinging to a marriage that would not recover, no matter what he did.

Dazed, he leaned heavier on his cane, wandering towards the exit. He needed some air… Needed to sit down…

"Gold."

He turned his head slowly towards the voice, taking a moment to register that it was Whale talking to him, flanked by the Charmings and their bulldogs.

"You fixed me. Now fix him. It will take you seconds and cost you nothing."

…was he really making demands? Of HIM?

"No."

"No? Just… No?"

"I owe you nothing," he hissed, "I owe none of you anything. And some of you," he looked pointedly at the savior, "Owe me. Better be careful he doesn't learn our little secrets, unless you want to deal with him driving tour buses around town." He brushed by them, not paying any attention to their reactions, "So glad I don't give a damn."

That was the problem though… That had always been his problem. When he gave a damn about someone, one way or another he ended up staring at their retreating back, wondering what the hell had happened and what he had done to cause it.

III

She knew she was gaping, but she couldn't help herself. The vast city in front of her was both familiar and completely foreign. The noise, the bustling, the tall crammed together buildings were similar to what she'd find in a city back in their world, but with a new flavor. A darker, ashier flavor.

She was glad she had talked Rumple into draining the color from her so she could blend in better; she was already getting stares at her amazement at what must be everyday things for them. Everything captivated her, from the boys yelling and waving papers about, to the wildly varying styles of clothes, and how the accents ranged from polite and rolling to a barking, sharp version. Then she spotted a small bookstore and all thought but to make it over there left her mind.

The next thing she knew, a body had slammed into her, picking her up and twisting them both out of the way of an oncoming carriage. She glanced between it and the man who had moved her out of the way.

"Thank you," she said, flushing in embarrassment, "I can't believe I just about got myself run over."

"Well they really should have a system," he insisted, "It's madness trying to cross the street this time of day. Anyway, I can hardly blame you for being distracted; Fenoglio's is a beautiful shop."

He was a grandfatherly gentleman with a warm smile and genuine eyes. His hair and trimmed beard were lighter shades of gray, and Belle felt sure that wouldn't change if he went to another world. He offered his free hand to her, the other holding a briefcase.

"Professor Abraham Van Hel-Sing," he introduced himself.

She took his hand and shook it, "Belle." Then, feeling a little self-conscious that this was apparently an area that used surnames, added, "Von Stiltskin."

"A pleasure, Mrs. Von Stiltskin." She wondered at first how he could know she was married, then realized he must have seen her ring when they shook hands, "Is this your first visit in London?"

"Yes, it's…very different than where I'm from," she confessed.

"Well I'd offer to give you a tour, unfortunately I'm on my way to meet a colleague of mine for a pint. You are free to come along if you wish," he offered.

"I wouldn't want to intrude…"

"It would be no intrusion; in fact it might do some good to have fresh blood in the discussion." He grimaced at his words, but Belle didn't notice anything odd about them.

She fell into step beside him, being more mindful of the crowd and doing her best not to get caught up in her surroundings.

"Unfortunately the streets aren't safe for a young lady as of late. We've had some strange phenomenon occurring over the past week."

"Strange phenomenon?"

He shook his head dismissively, "Just odd coincidences. A ghost ship docking without any crew members, wolves escaping from the zoo to roam the streets... It's quite the time to visit."

"Sounds like it."

He guided her to a shabby, cozy tavern, a hanging sign announcing it to be the Admiral Benbow Inn. There were only a few customers inside, spread out amongst the dimly lit bar and tables. He made his way to the far corner, where a man sat alone with a cup. He didn't seem to even realize they were approaching him, staring straight forward with an unnerving focus.

"Mrs. Von Stiltskin, allow me to introduce you to Sir Holmwood. Sir Holmwood, this is Mrs. Von Stiltskin, she's visiting from...er, pardon me, where did you say you were from?"

"Avonlea," she decided quickly. She wasn't sure "Enchanted Forest" would go over smoothly in this world.

"Is that near Warwick?" The professor inquired.

"A bit south," she lied.

He pulled out the chair for Belle and she took a seat, an action that finally broke Sir Holmwood's concentration from the ether. He turned his intense gaze on her and she met it for a few moments. His eyes then traveled down her body in an eerily methodical fashion.

"...you'll have to excuse him, he doesn't get out much," Van Hel-Sing apologized, "Holmwood, play nice."

Sir Holmwood's lips twitched into a grimace, "No promises," he drawled.

"Right, unfortunately that's the best you can ask of him. Would you care for a drink, my lady?"

"No thank you."

The professor flagged down the bar maid while Sir Holmwood's expression grew even more sour looking at Belle. She was used to all sorts of dirty looks from strangers but this seemed a bit more personal than the standard "who would ever willingly be with the Dark One?". She tried to ignore it.

"Regrettably this isn't just a social call," Van Hel-Sing began, "Holmwood and I are in the midst of a predicament with an acquaintance... He feels there is a rational explanation while I am more inclined to believe there's something...supernatural at play. Our friends, deep in mourning, are not quite sure what to believe." The bar maid arrived with a stein and set it in front of him. He thanked her, pausing for a moment before continuing, "...would you consider yourself a skeptic, Mrs. Von Stiltskin?"

"Is that going to be your criteria for whether we allow this stranger into our inner circle?"

Professor Van Hel-Sing gave an exasperated sigh, turning to Holmwood, "And what would you suggest, detective? She's completely detached from our situation, she can be impartial."

"She's also a compulsive liar, and not even a particularly good one."

Belle tried to hide her shock but from the smug look on Holmwood's face, he was well aware he knew he had called her bluff. The professor put his head in his hand.

"Please don't," he begged.

"Let's start with the obvious; your surname is completely fictitious. There is no German town of "Stiltskin" and therefore the historical significance of "Von Stiltskin" makes no sense. On top of that there is no Avonlea in England. You look about this establishment as though you've never seen anything like it; your gait is awkward which suggests you are not used to your outfit. Your accent is Australian and though I understand the export of convicts to the country has ceased, there is a good likelihood you grew up amongst felons if not raised by them, suggesting a lax moral code, again substantiated by your need to lie to complete strangers. The lack of wear on your rings suggest that you have not been married very long, perhaps a couple of years. I'd wager he brought you here on business, let you loose so he may conduct it without interference." He looked her dead in the eye, "Do you deny this analysis?"

Belle had no idea what Australian was, even though she was aware of her accent and how it stood out. And while it might give her some satisfaction to correct him, the last thing she wanted was to get into an argument with some arrogant fool.

"I didn't want to go with him on his business," she said, "There's far too much to explore in too short of a time."

"And so you choose to spend that time with strangers," he sneered.

"Holmes, stop antagonizing her," Van Hel-Sing cut in, "She was invited and if she wishes to keep her business private that's her right."

"If you're really that bothered by me, I'll leave," Belle said.

"No, my dear, please. He's just being difficult." The professor pleaded.

She was well aware and if there was one thing falling in love with a difficult man had taught her, it was how to play their game. She pushed her chair back and went to stand.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted; clearly you two have this handled. I wouldn't want an untrustworthy third party offering their opinion either." She smoothed her dress, "Thank you for the invitation, Professor Van Hel-Sing."

"You're welcome, Mrs. Von Stiltskin," he grumbled, glaring at Holmwood.

Belle turned, counting down with her steps. Three...two...one...

"...wait."

She smothered a smirk before innocently glancing over her shoulder. Holmwood didn't look at her, preferring to finger his teacup's handle.

"...the likelihood of you being one of the infamous brides is infinitesimal. For starters Jonathan made no mention of a foreigner in his diary and even he would've picked up on an Australian in Romania."

Belle returned to her seat and the professor visibly relaxed, "So then, why did you want to know whether I was a skeptic or not?"

"Because so far the supernatural is our only explanation." Holmwood rolled his eyes but didn't interject. Professor Van Hel-Sing turned towards Belle, his expression earnest, "I was called to London by a former student of mine, Dr. Seward. His long-time friend Miss Westerna had fallen ill with strange symptoms. Anemia, sleepwalking, sensitivity to light..."

"Common symptoms that point to physical and mental ailments; migraines are fairly common and her anemia was likely exacerbating the condition." Holmwood interrupted, "Sleepwalking can be stress induced, and she was trying to decide between three different suitors."

"And yet you have nothing to explain the puncture marks on her throat."

That shut him up rather quickly.

Belle frowned, mulling over the evidence, "It sounds as though she's a victim of a vampire attack."

"Precisely!" The professor slapped his hand on the table, rattling the glassware. Holmwood glared at him.

"You are supposed to be a man of science, Abraham; it's embarrassing you resort to folk tales so quickly."

"I am a man of science, which is why my mind is open to things that it has not been able to explain yet. Aren't you the one who says that when you have eliminated all that is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?"

"Undead bloodsucking immortals, I think, are fair to call impossible," Holmwood glanced at Belle, "I should've let you walk off, you're feeding into his hysteria."

She wanted to ask if he were daft; of course vampires were real and a huge problem in some areas. But from the not-so-subtle gaping from the bar maid she suspected that vampires were treated more like fairy tales than facts here.

"It's not hysteria, it's fear...fear of what she has become. You've heard the reports, from the undertaker and from witnesses. The mothers-"

"Lucy's dead," Holmwood cut him off coldly, his jaw clenching, "No amount of wishful thinking will bring her back."

The professor glanced down, the fight gone out of him. Holmwood looked about ready to break something. Belle bit her lip, sensing there was more to this than just a right versus wrong conflict. She didn't want to pry too much into their personal lives, but she could focus on the facts they had given her. If there was a vampire or two running around, even in a city this large, the death toll would only increase. And if there was a newly turned one without impulse control...

"Well there's a very simple solution to rule out vampirism." Both of the men looked up at her and she took a deep breath, "You simply spend the night next to her grave."

"That's a waste of time," Holmwood protested, "There's nothing to be gained from that."

"An excellent idea..." Professor Van Hel-Sing started to be roused out of his melancholy, "If she is truly more then we'll know for certain."

"This is lunacy," Holmwood grumbled, "Watching a tomb all night for a sign of the dead rising."

"Then it should be easy to prove you're right," Belle pointed out, "I would think you'd love that opportunity."

The professor guffawed and clapped Holmwood on the shoulder, "Looks like you're not the only one who can peg a person minutes within making their acquaintance. I'll let Dr. Seward know; tonight we stake out the cemetery."

Holmwood remained tense, his emotions flickering like a spider darting around. She saw glimpses of anger, of fear, of hope as he struggled to regain his aloof and arrogant attitude. She got the feeling he wasn't as fond of others seeing behind his curtain as he was of looking behind theirs.

II

Regina didn't take to acting like a rat as well as her critics probably thought she would. She paced the small bunker beneath the mausoleum, fighting the urge to check the mirror as little as possible. The world above was moving at a glacial pace, and there were only so much of Henry's misery she could take.

"Regina?"

Her attention turned towards the panel wall, hesitant to open it, "Which Belle is this?"

"The one you probably won't open the door for."

She sighed but opened the panel anyway. "Belle" strolled in, taking in the prison, "I suppose solitude has its appeal... But I've never known you to be a coward."

"They still think I tried to kill Emma; I figured a low profile was called for," she shot a glare at the other woman, "Would you mind? If we have to talk I'd rather not do it with a glamour in the way."

She rolled her eyes and with a dramatic swirl of red smoke, Belle disappeared and Cora stood in her place. She stood out with her elaborate gown of a style the rest of the town had left behind. Apparently she hadn't found the time or just didn't have the inclination to find new clothes.

Regina hated the pinpricking sensation at the corners of her eyes, at the way her throat ached well before any tears had actually fallen, "What do you want? Why are you here?"

Just like that, the years of desperately clawing towards being someone else, anyone else, vanished... And she was back to being that girl on the stable floor, utterly helpless in the face of her mother's seemingly unlimited power over her life.

Cora's gaze remained steadily focused on Regina, only the slightest movements proving she wasn't just a statue, "I want to start again. That's why you cast this curse, correct? For a happy ending?"

"There's a very particular reason why you weren't a part of it," she shook her head, "And what do I have to show for all that effort? I've lost my son, my power over this town, Snow still has everything she could ever want and I go back to an empty home filled with ghosts."

"We can get your son back."

Regina snorted, "How? Anything I do now will only drive Henry further away."

"That's why we have a scapegoat."

Cora helped herself to Regina's vanity mirror, summoning an image. It was hard to make out; the only light came from a small window on the far wall. She recognized her own shelves from her shed and a petite curly haired figure pacing around like a tiger in a cage.

Regina sighed, "I know it's been a few years since you've dealt with Rumplestiltskin, but he's not going to be happy when he finds out you're detaining his wife," she glanced at Cora, trying not to imagine her mother using her Belle disguise around the lovesick imp, "She's his apprentice too; whatever barrier spell you've put on my garden shed she'll eventually figure out how to get past."

"There are no barrier spells. Actually I didn't use any of my own magic to keep her locked up this time."

"So you've threatened her," she fought the urge to roll her eyes, "That's not going to work either."

"I've used her own magic against her, or should I say his magic against her."

Cora waited a few beats but Regina failed to guess. She took the liberty of spelling it out for her, "She's bound by blood to the Dark One...and I just so happened to have procured the Dark One's dagger. She must obey."

II

It had never been a question in his mind that he would kill for Belle. He had killed for much stupider reasons and while it was debatable whether he had the capacity to do it before Zoso, he knew now that he had so much blood on his hands he wouldn't think twice about killing for a noble cause. What was more noble than true love?

But the fact was… Belle had never asked that of him. Not even after what Regina had done to her. And so he hesitated, watching the nurses try to keep the stranger alive until Dr. Whale returned from wherever he had gone to. Maybe he wouldn't have to intervene at all. Maybe it would all take care of itself.

Coward.

His stomach tightened. Belle knew every button to push, but this went beyond that. His Belle wasn't cruel, would never dismiss Bae so easily or agree with Milah's abuse. Something was wrong…something was very wrong.

It was him. He was wrong.

He tried to hold off the panic a little longer, try to think of rational reasons. But it was too late; his fear had caught up to him. And he knew, he knew from the bottom of his heart that it was all his fault. She was withdrawing and turning bitter just like Milah had. His marriage was going up in flames and he had no idea how to stop it, if he could stop it.

If something was wrong, if Cora had taken her heart, had possessed her, she would have found a way to contact him. Belle was the most resourceful person he knew; if she loved him she would have warned him. But that was the stinger, wasn't it? He could come up with every excuse under the sun, as he had with his first wife, and yet that was all they were. Excuses. The truth was that he hadn't been enough and Belle, like Milah, had become fed up with him.

He couldn't catch his breath. He glanced around but the hospital was full of people. He couldn't let anyone see him like this, watch his facade unravel like the straw doll it was. He needed to hide. Where could he hide?

The ache in his throat warned him nowhere in the hospital, not if he didn't want to get caught. So he vanished back home, locking himself in the basement. He collapsed in the corner and curled into himself, berating himself as he sobbed.

He was losing Belle, and he had no idea how to get her back.

III

Strictly speaking, Belle hadn't been invited to the cemetery sleepover, but she wasn't about to let the men wander into danger so unprepared. After Professor Van Hel-Sing and Holmwood had departed, Belle had gone from shop to shop, amassing vampire hunting supplies. Rumple would kill her if he had any idea what she was up to; thankfully his own business required a night away. She found stakes and a hammer relatively easily, as well as a couple crucifixes. Silver she wasn't convinced would work but found a reasonably priced knife, so she added it to her knapsack. Holy water was another matter; Belle had to sneak into a church for a few vials and make sure none of the priests were paying attention while she filled them.

By the time she had found the right cemetery all four men were assembled, standing beside a mausoleum labeled "Westerna". The professor startled as he saw her approach.

"Mrs. Von Stiltskin! What are you doing here?!"

"I came to help, of course," she patted her knapsack, "Brought enough weapons to share."

"Well I suppose we're in no position to turn down help," he admitted, "Might I introduce Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris?"

The two strangers stepped forward, the first a fair-haired doe-eyed gentleman that could've been descended from the fae. He gave a curt bow but seemed far more preoccupied with his own thoughts. The second was a man with rather impressive facial hair and muscle mass, an odd hat on his head with a wide brim and a dip in the middle.

He tipped his hat to her, "Ma'am. I reckon you're the sketchy Aussie Holmes was bellyachin' about?"

"Most likely," she smirked at Holmwood, "Were you talking about me?"

"There's no corpse in her tomb," Holmwood sidestepped the question, "The caretaker's last round was close to an hour ago and apart from us, he's seen no one."

"She must know his routine," Belle mused. She set her knapsack down and started unpacking, "So it's onetwothreefourfive inexperienced humans against a freshly-fed fledgeling vampire."

"My odds have been worse." The man with the odd accent claimed, resting a hand on his holster.

"You can't truly believe Ms. Westerna has risen from her grave," Holmwood insisted, then turned to the fair-haired gentleman, "Seward, you're a man of science. Surely you don't believe in this...hocus pocus."

"I don't," Dr. Seward said flatly, then gestured towards the holy water, "Might I borrow this, miss?"

"Sure, go right ahead."

Holmwood watched him with the disgust of witnessing a man pick up a decaying rabid rat. Dr. Seward simply shrugged off his reproach.

"In my line of work, you learn the value of placebos," he explained, "Facts might be rational, but people are not."

Between her and the professor's stock, all of them were soon armed. Even Holmwood, who turned his nose up at silver and crosses, accepted one of Mr. Morris' revolvers. Professor Van Hel-Sing strung garlands of garlic around Lucy's empty resting place.

"May God forgive us all," he muttered.

They stood around the Westerna tomb, silently watching the moonlit graveyard for any signs of a disturbance. While Belle wouldn't expect much noise from the dead, hearing nothing but the mens' breathing beside her was eerie. No crickets, no birds, as if the entire world were asleep. She kept a tight grip on her stake even as hours passed without a sign of life or death.

Holmwood sighed. Mr. Morris shifted his weight from foot to foot. Dr. Seward stifled a yawn. The professor however remained a tense statue beside her though, never losing an ounce of vigilance against the London fog.

So light she thought she imagined it, Belle picked up on the rustle of skirts. A silhouette was making its way towards them, ghostly features coming into focus. She was no bigger than Belle herself, pale hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back in wild curls. Her skin practically glowed in the dark, hands fisted into her gown to keep the hem from touching the ground.

No one said a word as the lady approached them, casual as if she were just coming back from a stroll. She finally stopped a few feet away, dark eyes flicking from one face to the next.

"...my friends have finally come to pay me a visit." Her voice was breathy, light in a tone that suggested it didn't often get above a whisper.

Dr. Seward choked. Holmwood's hands clenched into fists. Mr. Morris shook his head in disbelief. Belle stared in horror at the woman's gown, a wedding dress with some wear...and large dark stains all over it.

The lady tilted her head, sizing Belle up, "...you're not Mina. Who are you?"

"Lucy." The name slipped out of Dr. Seward like a prayer.

Her attention shifted to him and she smiled, strolling towards him, "My sweet Jack... It's so good to see you again."

The doctor's eyes misted, "How...?"

"I'm not rightly sure myself; maybe you can figure it out. You've always been the smart one."

Lucy reached out for him but the professor cut between them, brandishing a cross, "Stay BACK!"

The lady in stained white jerked away, her lips curling back to reveal long glistening fangs. She hissed at Van Hel-Sing and Belle moved closer, stake raised.

"No!" Dr. Seward roared. Holmwood slammed into him as he lunged forward, Mr. Morris having to join Holmwood's efforts as the doctor struggled against them.

Lucy seemed to recognize her outburst and withdrew her fangs, straightening, "Abe... There's no need for that. You know I'd never hurt you...any of you." She glanced around at the men imploringly.

Van Hel-Sing's arm wavered. The young woman's sad gaze focused on him, "...you saved my life, don't you remember? You were at my bedside, nursing me back to health. You, all of you, took turns donating to save my life."

Dr. Seward's struggles subsided, though Holmwood and Mr. Morris didn't seem as determined to keep him away as they had moments before. Belle wasn't sure whether the sway Ms. Westerna held over them was due to a natural charisma or her newly acquired vampire abilities.

"You're my friends," she pleaded with them, "My very best friends, aside from Mina and Jonathan. Some even...more than best friends."

She was winning them over, whether she was telling the truth or not. While Belle wanted to believe in the best... She wasn't about to wager lives on it.

"Whose blood is that?"

Lucy turned to her, poorly hiding her irritation, "Pardon?"

"Whose blood is that, on your dress?"

The men started to come back to their senses. Lucy's lips twitched at the desire to sneer, "I don't think that's any of your concern. Who are you again?"

"Lucy, answer her question." The doctor's voice quivered.

She glanced at him, her sugarcoating wearing thin, "I don't know, alright. Some street urchin I found wandering."

"A child?!"

Mr. Morris drew his gun. The professor held his crucifix with even more conviction. Lucy tensed, "I needed him, Jack. You know of my affliction; it's only grown worse."

"Did you kill him?!"

Lucy hesitated, which was all the answer Dr. Seward needed. He went for his own stake. While she was distracted, Belle went to make her move, ready to freeze her in place to make staking her that much easier. She reached deep inside of herself as she raised her arm...

...and felt nothing but a slight trickle of the power she had come to know as magic. Not even enough to slow down the vampire.

Her back slammed into the earth as Lucy pounced and she only had a split second to react. She jerked the stake up just in time for Lucy's jaws to close around it and not her throat. She let out an enraged squeal, clawing at Belle's face. Belle kicked at her fruitlessly until the vampire spun off her, taking the stake but thankfully not Belle with her.

The professor fumbled at his belt as his crucifix drove Lucy back. What had been Belle's primary weapon was snapped in half by furious inhuman jaws. The act of her humanity had been dropped; she crouched and snarled, searching for a weakness in the group. Belle scrambled to her feet and went for her vial of holy water. Lucy twisted towards her and seemed to consider charging again, if a small explosion hadn't gone off. She shrieked as blood sprayed from her shoulder.

"I'm real sorry I had to do that," Mr. Morris said, loading another bullet, "You know I'd never shoot you if you were yourself, even after you turned me down."

Lucy wheeled around and Belle saw her opportunity. Thumbing off the lid of the vial, she started flicking its contents, closing off exits while Van Hel-Sing and Morris played a dangerous game of bloodsucker in the middle. Dr. Seward took her lead and used his own holy water to help form a tight circle around the hunters and the hunted.

Then Mr. Morris' gun clicked. There was a moment of realization on his face, then resignation as Lucy hurled herself at him.

"QUINCY!" Dr. Seward screamed.

Belle dug into herself as deep as she could, scratching at tendrils of magic and trying to make something substantial, something she could use to shield the man. But there was nothing she could do to keep him safe.

A wail filled the air and Lucy convulsed. Holmwood crouched over her, releasing the stake he had driven into her back. Mr. Morris scrambled out from underneath her and she collapsed, twitching and writhing like a live bug pinned to a butterfly board. The grotesque expression she had worn as she fought faded as she turned over, the stake driving deeper as she lay face up.

"...Sherlie..." She gasped.

Holmwood straightened but otherwise seemed rooted to the spot, staring down at her, "...don't call me Sherlie."

Belle moved closer as did the other men. Their fighting spirit seemed to have left them now that she was helpless, the stake immobilizing her.

"...do you remember... That night in the garden...?" She coughed as blood filled her lungs, spilling out of her mouth, "...you took my hand..."

"I remember," Holmwood said bluntly, "I remember...everything."

Belle met the professor's eye. Tears slipped out as he shook his head, a silent apology. Belle nodded and went to a partially dug grave nearby.

"...if you remember... Then why did you do this to me?"

She pulled the shovel out of the pile and returned, making her way resolutely towards Lucy.

"You didn't give me a choice."

"Heartless bastard... Did you ever...care about me?"

A hand reached out and caught Belle as she passed. She turned to see it was the doctor who had stopped her. Though he was shaking from barely suppressed sobs, he was gesturing towards the shovel. Belle hesitated, but gave it to him.

"Did you?" Holmwood asked, his voice carefully stoic, "Or did you care only about my title?"

Dr. Seward approached them, barely able to hold on to the shovel. Lucy turned her head slightly, a thin smile gracing her bloodstained lips.

"Jack... Of course you'd...you'd come to protect me... You've always been there, for me..."

Dr. Seward raised the shovel above his head. Lucy's eyes widened, "No Jack! ...please! ...I don't want to die... Please... I lo-"

The shovel's head came down, severing Lucy Westerna's head from her shoulders. Her hand twitched a couple times, and then it was over.

II

One last shot, Mr. Gold thought as he waited for Belle. He could still be wrong. Maybe she was just going through something. Maybe she wasn't aware of how distant and mean she was being. He didn't want to give up on her, not after everything they'd been through together. He loved her beyond what anyone could imagine, and to lose her…

She was in even later than her new habit since her return, changing in the bathroom and slipping under the covers.

"Well we won't have to worry about the stranger," she announced, "He didn't make it, no thanks to you."

"That's…good," he said haltingly. It did make things easier… He rubbed his fingers together as she settled into the bed, "You…haven't happened to have changed your mind, have you?"

"About what?"

"About going with me… To find Bae."

"I thought I made myself clear."

"You did but… This change of heart seems so sudden. Are you scared?"

She closed her eyes, more irritated than anything, "No. This has been a long time coming. I just didn't have the heart to tell you."

He searched her face, looking for any chink in the armor, any hint she was lying. But there was nothing. She honestly didn't care about the son he had spent centuries trying to reunite with.

"…if you won't do it for Bae, would you do it for me?" He murmured, "…I need you, Belle. I can't do this alone."

She didn't respond.

Desperate, he moved closer. Her eyes flew open, "What are you doing?"

"Please." It was practically a whimper, "I'm not trying to come onto you, I just… I just need to hold you."

She looked at him as if he had just thrown up on her pillow. She huffed and turned onto her side, back to him, "You're pathetic."

A cold sliver of ice cut into his heart. Fine… If she didn't want him anymore he couldn't force her, and after his evening in the basement he didn't have any tears left to shed. He'd leave tomorrow morning with Miss Swan to find his son and then, when all that was sorted out, he'd see if there was anything left to his marriage.

III

Belle all but collapsed in the tavern room she agreed to meet her husband in after they were both done with their business in this world. She had faded away as the rest of the men mourned Lucy for the second time, a spectator at a private burial. She hoped that the help she had offered was enough and that she hadn't just been a tourist on a monster safari.

The mattress shifted as a weight dropped beside her, "...did you die?"

"You would only be so lucky."

She turned her face to see Rumplestiltskin's resting a hair's breadth away, "I don't see any new books. Are there no shops?"

"There are but I occupied myself in other ways." Rumple raised an eyebrow and she knew she'd have to be very, very careful in her phrasing to keep him from worrying, "Saw the sights, drank a pint with a few new friends, took a late night tour..."

She could see the gears in his head turning, working over her vague responses and jumping to whatever conclusions were churned out. He kept whatever ideas he had to himself, turning from his belly to his back.

"Well my deal is done, so after you have yourself a cat nap we can get going...or perhaps see some new sights? I've heard that they have a giant clock they're very proud of."

Belle frowned, propping herself up on her elbows, "So soon?"

"Have some unfinished business, dearie?"

There was the nagging sensation in the back of her head that the story she witnessed last night wasn't over. Lucy had not been the villain, only a victim of another possibly more powerful vampire, one that likely wasn't done threatening this city. She considered warning Rumple, asking if they could stay and offer what they could, even if their magic was faint. Surely they could find a way to help?

Rumplestiltskin's eyes wandered down the front of her dress and he bolted upright, "Belle!"

She looked down her dress and for the first time noticed dark splotches, most likely due to Lucy, "I'm fine," she assured him quickly, scrambling for a reasonable explanation, "It, it's mud. I fell."

He leaned closer, examining the spots. Belle held her breath.

"...we'll have to see later," he finally concluded, "Damn colorless world."

IIIII

Well it might've taken a pandemic but finally uploaded again. It's been a bitch of a chapter between personal issues and wanting to do the Dracula characters right, plus restructuring some parts and cutting scenes out altogether.

Next time: Road trip! Well at least for some of the characters. Other characters are dealing with whatever Regina and Cora are cooking up. Also giants in the sky.