A/N: Nothing based off true events in this prompt, but I'll still include a little something at the very end if anyone's interested in some spooky things!

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my mistakes.

TW: Brief mentions of domestic violence.

There was something exciting about exploring the most haunted places in the world—idiotic, definitely, but exciting. The thrill of going places others didn't dare step into, communicating with ghosts, spirits, whatever it was that responded to them, and making new discoveries that were unheard of before.

But it was also expensive. Traveling across the country was pricey, and they weren't funded by anyone. Every trip required food, gas, and hotel payments, none of which were cheap. And there were also the high-quality equipments they used; the EVP recorders, EMF meters, and the goddamn Ghost Cam that costed them seven-hundred bucks. They shouldn't be spending thousands over their hunts, not when they barely profited anything from them. But it wasn't just a hobby, it wasn't something they did to pass time. They did it because they were intrigued by the unknown, they were fascinated by the stories of every paranormal experience, curious.

So they gratified their curiosity one last. One last adventure.

An old, abandoned mansion in a small town in Maine called Storybrooke.

Odd name. Regina Mills almost didn't believe it when her best friend, the co-founder of their group, Robin Locksley, told her. Storybrooke, really? Out of all the names available in the world, the town was called Storybrooke?

But it was real, and it was spine-chilling. They'd never been to a place so dead before. Quiet. One would think no one lived in it. The streets were empty, save for a small handful of people they passed by upon entering, staring at them as if they'd seen something so abnormal. And the buildings were old, barely holding it together. Every step drew a loud creak. It was unsettling, and that said a lot coming from a woman who experienced it all.

For a final adventure, though, it'd be worth it.

It had to be.

"I hope you're right about this place, Locksley," Regina said, flopping down onto her side of the bed. Goddamn this stupid town. How could it not have internet or phone service? There was none on any of their phones. "Because a day without checking my emails is torture, but a week would be enough to make me lose my mind, and probably kill you for making me agree to this."

Robin chuckled on the other side, facing away from her as he rid himself of his shoes. "Trust me, I've heard it's one of the most haunted places."

"You said the same about the last place we went to, and what was the only thing that made us scream?"

"A rat…"

"A rat," she confirmed. "There were no ghosts, not a single thing out of the ordinary. It was just an old, dusty house."

"It still had some weird vibes to it."

"But it doesn't change the fact that it was nothing but an old house. Nothing paranormal about it." Her brows rose in a knowing look when he turned to her. "We stayed there for three days, Robin. We slept in the house. We used a ouija board to summon whatever presence was there, and nothing came through. The planchette didn't even move an inch."

"I know," Robin sighed defeatedly. "But I'm sure about this place. A hundred percent sure. Trust me."

"How did you even find it anyways?" Perhaps it was a question she should've asked long before agreeing to come along on the trip. When she searched the internet and found absolutely nothing about Storybrooke, as if the place didn't even exist. Too late, though. They were miles and miles away from home.

"I went to get my car fixed and this old man working there started talking about this place," Robin said, lowering himself beside her on the bed. "He said there's this mansion down…Mifflin Street, I believe it's called, and it's haunted. No one's lived in it for a while because weird things continue to happen there. People say they've seen lights flicker on and off. A woman in white—"

"A woman in white? Of course," Regina scoffed. It was always women in white. Whoever said every spooky, ghost story had to include that?

"As I was saying," Robin continued, "a woman in white was seen crossing from one side of the upper level to the other, and any daredevil that entered the mansion said to have felt as though they were being watched and followed. Some reported hearing a little child singing and crying."

Regina laughed. A wholehearted belly laugh erupting out of her in amusement. "It really doesn't get any more cliché than this. Women in white, children crying? What's next, someone going boo?" She shook her head in disbelief. For a man who spent over a decade doing this, chasing after the paranormal, she expected more from him. He should've known better than to waste their time and limited money on something as stupid as this. It'll just be another trip full of failed sessions and disappointments. Again.

"Trust me on this," he implored.

They were already in Storybrooke, their equipments set up around the infamous mansion—did she really have any other choice?

"This is the last one," Regina repeated, holding her index up between them. "I'm not going on another one of these haunts again. I'm tired of it. I'm getting a real job, I'm settling down somewhere."

"Understood," Robin promised, head bobbing rapidly. "It's the last one."

The first night, just as Regina suspected, was uneventful.

Nothing happened aside from some squeaky noises during the night, to which they dismissed as the place being old. It creaked, whether they walked around or stayed still, it didn't matter. Old houses did that.

The second night, however, was different.

It all began after sundown. The atmosphere shifted, an invisible weight settled heavily on their chests, and the cameras they set up in various locations around the mansion continued to turn off on their own. Light footsteps tapping along the stairs were also heard while they were all gathered in one place, and sounds of knocking came from wide open doors, making it clear that it wasn't any of them trying to scare the others. Or anyone at all.

"Is this thing recording?" Robin mumbled to himself, a slight grumble to his tone as he tapped and turned around the small camera in his hand. "Okay, it's recording. Alright. It's currently day two in the Mifflin Street mansion here in Storybrooke, Maine, and things are starting to feel…weird." He sounded proud of himself. He looked so proud with that wide grin on his face as he continued talking in front of the device, explaining the little unusual things happening around.

He was right, not that Regina's pride would allow her admit it out loud, but the place was definitely haunted. She could feel it in the way the air grew thick around them all of the sudden. The slight smell of smoke surrounding them. Smoke always indicated something being present…and something very, very unpleasant.

"Okay, the ouija board is set up," Ruby announced, just as Regina lit up the last candle and blew out the match. "Tink's getting the EVP recorder and Emma is going around the rooms with the EMF meter and—"

"Graham?" Regina asked.

"He's checking the cameras to see if they're still recording."

They've been turning off at odd times, being tampered by with whatever energy that was among them for whatever reason. It could be a playful presence wanting nothing more than to get their attention. After all, people have said they've heard a child in the mansion. But it could also be something inauspicious that didn't want to be recorded and wanted them out.

"You ready?" Robin asked as she joined him on the table they set up in the center of the room, sitting across him,

She nodded, her hands resting over one side of the planchette. "As ready as I'll ever be."

It was a shame their group was incomplete, though. One last time and not everyone was around to celebrate what a successful hunt this one was shaping up to be. Victor was out of the country, visiting his ill brother in Switzerland, and David couldn't leave his heavily pregnant wife behind with her being so close to her due date. But both would've loved it. She was sure of that.

"All cameras are working," Graham informed.

"And there's definitely a strong presence in this room," Emma murmured, turning the EMF device in their direction as the sensor went off, confirming her words.

Well, that was their cue to start then.

"Tink?" Regina glanced back over her shoulder at her friend, who shook her head.

"I'm sitting this one out."

No one could blame her. The last time she joined a ouija board session, it didn't end so well. Halfway through it, breathing became difficult, and she walked away traumatized at the feeling of being held back by someone—rather, something.

They began. Everyone staring at the board intently, waiting to catch a glimpse of the planchette moving, even slightly, as Robin started his list of questions.

"Is anyone around?"

Nothing.

"We know someone is here. We feel your presence."

Not even an inch.

"Is it the little child?"

Still nothing, and then—

"It's moving," Regina whispered, almost in disbelief at the sight of the planchette inching to the far right where the word 'no' was carved. Part of her expected this time around to be as unsuccessful as the last. But it moved. It actually moved.

"If it's not the child, then who the fuck is it, the woman in white?" Robin snorted.

"What did we say about cursing at spirits, Robin?" Regina rebuked. "One day you're gonna end up dying a mysterious death if you keep up with this crap."

"Yes, Mother," he huffed out with an eye roll, only irking her further.

She ignored him, though, only because the planchette moved again, answering with a yes.

"The woman in white…" Regina muttered, astonished.

"Ask her if she's got a name!" Ruby suggested, her voice a little risen to compete with the deafening sound of the EVP recorder.

The continuous screeching irritated Regina's ears. No matter how many times she'd been around one, how many hours she spent listening to that godawful sound, it was just as galling.

The planchette moved again. Slowly, pushing over toward the first letter with an effort, as if it weighed a ton, rather than being something that could easily be as light as a feather. And then it stopped, a centimeter away from the R.

That was…unsettling.

"You…you didn't do that, did you?" Regina murmured, her gaze lifting off the board only to be met with Robin's, who quietly shook his head in denial.

"If I intended on scaring you, I would've kicked the table or brushed my foot up your leg, not that."

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was overreacting, but the hairs on her arms stood.

Regina dismissed the sinking feeling. It was probably nothing. "Let's ask some more questions before reviewing the recordings."

They asked a few more questions. Asked about her name again, about who she was and how she died, and who the little child was. If she was a tortured spirit unable to move on…or something else. But the planchette never moved. The eerie feeling of the room closing in on them, however, grew. The sudden inability to breathe, the whiff of smoke, as if something was burning—none of that was a good sign. A bad omen. It should've been their cue to leave, to get out of the mansion, out of the odd town that Storybrooke was.

And yet, they stayed.

They stayed because of what they heard when they played back the EVP recordings.

Regina.

That was the name the device caught right after they asked the woman in white for her name. A quick, short answer, almost breathless, and followed by an animalistic growl. And then it went quiet.

They called it a night when the activities ceased and decided to sleep at the mansion, just incase something decided to show itself.

It wasn't something they've not done before. It was a must for better results.

"Are you sure about sleeping in there alone?" Robin asked, nodding his chin toward the bedroom on their right side, a gentle hand resting soothingly over Regina's elbow.

It was a stupid idea to split up the team and have each person take up a room to stay in on their own. So he was concerned and rightfully so—not to mention, of all the people present in the residence during the ouija board session, her name was the one mentioned. He has also been her best friend for years and years, he was always so protective of her, worrying about her over the smallest and silliest things.

Regina sucked in a shuddered breath. No, she wasn't sure. She was never sure about these kind of things and yet, she continued doing them. "It's for the best, you know that."

"I know." He sighed, leaning his forehead against hers briefly before planting a kiss to it. Ever so sweet, that man. "I'll be in the room across," he reminded, gesturing to their left side, and she nodded, already knowing what were the words that would follow. His usual reassurance during every one of their little adventures. "If you need anything, anything at all, Regina, call for me, or just walk right in and wake me up. No matter how late it is."

And as always, she wouldn't.

But as she did every time he said that to her, she promised to do just that.

The silence made it impossible for Regina to close her eyes for more than a blink. How could people find peace in the dark and quiet? Weren't their thoughts too loud? Too demanding of their attention to put them at ease, or was it just her?

Always her?

Because her mind was repeating the session over and over again. So many questions she wasn't sure she'd ever have the answers for.

Why her name?

Who was that woman?

Why did she sound so breathless, as though she was running?

What was the actual story behind this place and why was she, the woman so against the whole trip in the first place, was so drawn to it?

It made no sense, but again, did the supernatural world ever make any sense?

Who and what were these things among them? Some claimed ghosts, others claimed spirits with unfinished business. And then there were the people who believed that these things, the unexplained, were something far more sinister. Something born out of evil. Something like…demons.

But whatever they were—whatever still resided in the abandoned mansion, it wasn't a friendly presence.

"I'm pregnant," she told him, her smile wider than it'd ever been.

It wasn't planned. They never talked about having a family, it wasn't a subject either of them ever brought up—not that Regina had the chance to anyways. Leo was always busy. Too busy for her unless he wanted something from her, of course, and if she had to be frank, it worked best that way.

She didn't love him.

Their marriage was loveless. Arranged. A business deal put in place by her mother's thirst for money and power, sealing her fate to a man twice her age. If not, thrice.

But she tried to make it work, because that's what Mother told her to do. To be a good, obedient wife, so that's what she was. Good and obedient, always granting him his wishes, giving him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it without any complaints. In return, the marriage wasn't too bad. It was bearable. He was…nice, whenever he wasn't around alcohol, at least.

And he was nice then, his smile equally as wide as hers at the news.

"Are you—oh, God—Regina, are you sure?" he stuttered, and she nodded with a delighted chuckle.

Maybe things would take a turn to the better. If love wouldn't bloom between them, which she was certain it never would, understanding might.

His aggressive behaviors might subside. His drinking problem might go away. The pain might stop.

The baby would change it all, she knew it.

If only she knew it wouldn't go the way she hoped, though.

Not even in the slightest.

It was a crisp November evening when Leo came home beyond himself, laughing and raving about that special surprise he had for her, and before she knew it, she was ushered out of door and into the car, and off they were to the destination he told her would be the start of their new life together.

To a house they'd call their own. Rather, a gigantic white colonial mansion that knocked the breath right out of her. Large building with spacious front yard and backyard, enough for their child to run around freely. Tall trees and rose bushes all around. It was stunning. It couldn't get any more perfect than that.

Leo showed her the inside of it. It was empty for the time being, but he pointed at places, detailing what every corner would have. Where the furnitures would go, the fireplace and how they'd sit in front of it during the winter weather. Which room would be theirs and which room would be their baby's.

And it felt right.

After almost two years of being with him, almost two years of feeling out of place, she felt like she belonged.

But then everything changed.

Just as the happiness came, it went when Leo turned to her with a sadistic smile on his face, uttering one degrading sentence after another. Repeating the same belittling words her mother said to her growing up. Reminding her of how useless she was. Pathetic. Why would he want her when he could have any other woman in the world? A woman that would please him better than she ever did. A woman that wouldn't tie him down to such responsibilities. A baby? Did she really think after all these years, being at the age that he was, he'd want a baby to look after? Especially when things were only getting better for him. When life was getting brighter—have that and dull it all?

He laughed at her, at how naïve she was for believing every lie he said, then shoved her away and left her in the house that was meant to be theirs. Sobbing on the staircase, surrounded by the flames he ignited to wipe her out of existence. Two birds with one stone, as he said. Her father was dead, her mother never cared, no one would miss her.

Still, she got up and ran to him, as fast she could with her aching joints and the extra weight she was carrying, banging on the doors he padlocked from the outside, begging for her life, her baby's. But he ignored her, turned his back to her as if she wasn't there, lighting a cigarette so casually as she cried behind him.

He didn't help her.

No one did.

"Regina…"

"Regina, wake up."

The voice startled her awake and she sat up with a violent, audible gasp, her eyes bulging, her heart racing, and tears clinging to her lashes.

It felt real.

It felt so real.

"What happened?" Robin whispered, his voice laced with worry as his hand soothingly rubbed over her back. "Are you okay? You were sobbing."

"I'm…" Not fine. She wasn't fine. The dreadful feeling that consumed her upon entering the house only grew. That wasn't a bad dream. It couldn't have been. It felt too damn real to be a nightmare. It was the house. It was what happened in the house. It was a cry for help. "She's trapped."

"What is she talking about?" Emma murmured, standing by the doorway with the rest of their team, all of them obviously concerned with their knitted browns and pursed lips.

"She lost her mind," Ruby scoffed back.

"Who's trapped?" Robin asked, and Regina lifted her head up, staring directly at him with a frown painted over her face.

"Regina."

According to stories we've been told here and our parents before us, too, smelling smoke when nothing's burning means there's a demonic presence around. So next time you get a whiff of smoke that's coming out of nowhere and so sudden, it could just be that.