Sacrificial Magic

1

White Sacrifice

Disclaimer: Don't own, dearies, just playing

A/N: Takes place right after the confrontation between Pan and Rumple in Gold's shop, AU of Going Home's ending.

There were two absolutes in magic, two rules that all magic wielders had to abide by. One was that true love broke all curses. The other was that a willing sacrifice, also known as a white sacrifice, not only broke all curses, but destroyed all evil and redeemed the white sacrifice's soul.

Rumple considered cutting off his own hand to free himself of the cuff Pan had placed there, thus regaining the use of his magic and then reattaching his hand with it. But he swiftly discarded that notion. Pan's magic and his own were equally matched, so having his powers back would not serve him in this case. Then too, he was sick and tired of everyone, including the bastard who was his father, assuming that without access to the Dark One's powers he was helpless—the village coward, as Pan had sneered before leaving to enact his revenge.

He had acknowledged long before that his use of the dark magic had become a crutch . . . but nasty habits could be broken . . . and even Dark Ones could be redeemed.

If he had the courage to follow through on his convictions.

The boy will be your undoing.

He knew now that the Seer had spoken a possible prophecy . . . but the future was filled with possibilities . . . and he simply had to choose one.

He released the handle of the sword, watched as the blade rocked back and forth before settling to the floor. No. That was a possibility he could not consider.

But there was another.

Gritting his teeth, he climbed to his feet, grabbed his cane, and limped out the door.

You'll not win, Papa. Not this time. Peter Pan never fails, my ass! This time you will. Because this time you shall face, not the village coward, not the Dark One, but the white sacrifice. And this time, Papa, you lose.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

"I think . . . I'll start with . . . you," Pan hissed, his eyes glowing with triumph, the darkness within him victorious. He pointed at Baelfire, trapped, like the Charmings, Emma, Regina, Henry, Hook, and Belle in Pan's immobilization spell. They couldn't move, but they could hear everything he said.

He pointed a finger, prepared to snuff out the annoying spark of life that called himself his grandson, the boy whom his pitiful son had spent lifetimes searching for, only to lose now.

"No. You'll start with me," Rumple said coldly, limping up to stand before the frozen line of unwilling spectators.

Pan turned. "Didn't you learn your lesson before, boy? What do I have to do to be free of you?"

"You'll have to kill me," Rumple said evenly. "Which, despite all your crowing and bragging, you lack the spine to do. So who's the real coward, Papa?"

Pan giggled. "You are, Rumple. You always have been. A cowardly little milksop, a millstone round my neck, a leech, just like your mother before you. Neither of you were worth spit. Don't you get it? I want to see you suffer—as I suffered all those years with you tagging along behind me. So I'm going to make you watch while I kill all those you love. And then maybe I'll end your pathetic life, so you can join them in death."

"You're a sick bastard," Rumple growled.

"Yes, I am. Sick of you and sick of those who think they can beat me at my own game. Peter Pan never fails."

"You lie, Papa."

"Do I? And how shall you stop me, Rumple? Without magic you're nothing but a crippled coward!" Pan laughed.

"I don't need my magic to defeat you," Rumple replied. "All I need is right here," he patted his chest. "And here," then he called his shadow from the depths of the jungle on Neverland, bidding it bring him his dagger.

The shadow came in a rush and dove towards him, he held out his hand, and the dagger fell into it, just as the shadow swept into his body, rejoined at last with its host.

Rumple lunged, pulling his youthful father close, and hissing, "You forget, Papa, about the oldest law of all. And now I'm going to remind you." Then he said , looking one last time upon his son and his beloved, "Bae, I spent three lifetimes trying to find you and correct the last mistake I made with you, and I regret all that I have done as the Dark One, except for finding you again. I love you, Baelfire."

"Such a pretty speech," sneered his father.

Rumple ignored him. "Belle, you are my heart, my soul, and you give me strength when I falter. Never forget that I loved you and perhaps in another life, we shall meet again." His eyes glistened as he gazed upon her one last time . . . then he spun and shoved the dagger of the Dark One deep into Pan's body.

The cursed blade penetrated both flesh and magic, and Pan shuddered and suddenly his youthful body fell away, to reveal the middle-aged man who he had been before coming to Neverland.

Malcolm gasped. "No! This is impossible! Rumple, please! We can still have our happy ending!" he pleaded, only then realizing what Rumple meant to do.

"Villains don't get happy endings, Papa," Rumple growled, still holding tight to the older man. Then he shoved the dagger through Pan's heart . . . and into his own as well. "All magic comes with a price, remember? And this one, Papa, I pay willingly. You lose."

Rumple felt the power of the sacrifice enter him, transmuting him, changing him . . . he felt the dagger stab him, but the pain was inconsequential compared to the rush of sensations that filled him. He was a ribbon of light, a breath of wind, a pure note of music, a child's golden laugh, a mother's regretful tear, a lover's last kiss, a father's grateful embrace, the ancient magic swept through him, receiving his essence and transforming it into something totally unexpected.

And then it exploded outward as well, flowing into the corrupt being before him.

Pan's back arched as the power entered him, gave a silent scream as its fiery essence took his body and unmade it, bit by bit, returning it to the ashes and dust it had come from.

Rumple could feel the magic working and knew he needed to do one last thing before his sacrifice was accepted. He leaned in and pressed his lips against his father's dry cheek, giving him the kiss of peace. "I forgive you," he whispered, then the magic swept over them both, in an unstoppable tide, breaking all bonds, old and new.

Purple smoke covered the two figures for an instant.

When it cleared, Malcolm was gone, the magic having destroyed evil, rendering it dust once more. And Rumple lay still upon the ground, unmoving, like a corpse.

For a moment no one moved, even though the spell that bound them was gone.

All remained frozen in a horrified tableau.

Then Belle sucked in a breath. "Rumple!"

The cry was torn from the depths of her being, one long agonizing wail of denial as she beheld her beloved there on the ground . . . the white sacrifice accepted.

She sank to the ground, sobbing, grief stabbing her like shards of fiery ice, impaling her heart.

Through her tears, she could see Bae, just staring at his father's body, his eyes wide with pain, heard him form the words, "No . . . Papa . . . no . . ."

Belle staggered to her feet then, the jagged shards of her broken heart stabbing her as she tottered over to take Rumple's still form in her arms. She knew he was gone, though he was still warm, because she knew well the magic he had invoked. Sacrificial magic always required a blood price to be paid.

Tears flowed endlessly down her face, spattering upon his waxen cheeks, dripping into his silky hair. Mute, she shuddered, wracked with silent sobs, and then she pressed her lips to his, for one last kiss . . .

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

He blinked, and found himself Elsewhere, in a place of silver mist and golden light. Here, in this place, he had no body, for he did not need one. Here, at last, he had achieved the peace and love he had searched for all of his life. Contentment filled him . . . and then a voice spoke from out of the swirling ether.

"Rumplestiltskin. You are the white sacrifice, redeemed, reborn anew, cleansed of all your sins. You have paid the price of sacrifice. A life for a life, as the ancient laws demand. But unlike most sacrifices, the scales do not balance in your case. So, unto you, a choice is given. Remain . . . and dwell forever in the harmony and peace of the Everlasting Realm . . . or return, to begin your life anew, all curses broken, the same and yet changed . . ."

"I don't understand . . ."

"A sacrifice was required and accepted. Yet . . . long ago you made a deal you didn't understand the price of . . . and your free will was violated by the machinations of a dark sorcerer . . . thus a debt is owed, and a choice offered. Choose, Rumplestiltskin."

"If I choose to live . . . will everything be as it was before?"

"What has gone before is done and over with. You shall be given a life anew, changed and yet the same. The choice is yours."

Rumple was torn. The peace of the Everlasting Realm called to him, promising him an existence without suffering or pain, only endless joy and contentment. Yes, he would die, but his spirit would be reborn, never to know strife or shame or darkness ever again.

Or he could go back . . . back to a life that was the same yet forever changed . . .

Choose.

It was then he heard something . . . no, someone . . . weeping . . .

He knew instantly who it was.

There was only one person who had ever loved him first and foremost, without flinching, loved him both as a man and a beast, the brief flicker of light that had beaten back an ocean of darkness . . .

He shut his eyes.

Then he chose.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

She kissed him as if it were the last act she would ever perform, her lips covering his cold ones in desperate denial, her shattered heart beating erratically as she whispered, "I love you. I love you."

Saying now the words she could not say then . . . hoping that somehow he could hear them still, that a part of his spirit still lingered . . .

Your love gave me strength.

Would that my love could bring you back to me.

Suddenly air rushed into her mouth, as her beloved gasped, shuddered, and opened his eyes.

"Belle!"

"Rumple!"

Their eyes met, and in each shone the promise of a love rekindled, hope reborn, a life regained.

Then he was kissing her back, his lips devouring her in a fiery celebration, that caused her to quiver all the way down to her toes. She as yet had no words for the miracle that had occurred, nor did she search for them, not then. There would be time for that later.

But even as they kissed, the reactivated Dark Curse swept over them, making all as it was before . . . with one or two exceptions by its caster. . .

Swirls of enchanted purple and black smoke covered them . . . whisking them back from whence they had come . . .

Rumple rubbed his eyes, ridding them of the stinging smoke.

He was lying on the ground, the stones of the castle courtyard digging into the small of his back, his hands still holding Belle against him.

Slowly he sat up, hugging Belle hard, and glanced around.

"Rumple . . . where are we?" Belle asked.

"We're . . . in the courtyard of . . . of my . . . of the Dark Castle," he amended, recalling that now he was no longer cursed, no longer the Dark One. His skin was no longer sparkling gold, but normal human flesh, his hair was no longer the curly pelt of a beast, but silky straight brown locks, his eyes were no longer reptilian, but ordinary human brown.

He turned his head and his eyes widened in disbelief.

For he and Belle were surrounded . . . by a group of children, ranging from eight to fourteen, all staring about as if they'd never seen anything like this before.

Belle's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God, Rumple!"

"You can say that again, dearie," he replied wryly,wondering what the hell had just happened.

A/N: OK, so what do YOU think happened?