"Hello Papa," Rumplestiltskin grunted, twisting the dagger even deeper in the other man's back, the man who had been a teenage boy not even a second before. Killian grimaced as smoke surrounded the both of them, feeling sorry for Belle and more so for Bae as the dark cloud dissipated, leaving nothing in its wake.

He thought back to what Pan had told him of this plan back in Neverland.

"Looks like it's going to be back to the Enchanted Forest for you all. Home sweet home right? But with a twist of course," he had said with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, "You were always so vain, weren't you Captain? Enjoy it while you can." And with that, he disappeared in his signature green fog.

The same green fog that was now heading their way and fast.

Killian had warned the prince, gave him all the information he had and they both, in turn, had gone to Rumplestiltskin, but even the Dark One could not tell what Pan's schemes were. So they had done the worst thing that Killian could think of.

They sent Emma away.

Originally, the plan had been to have Henry go with her, but she had asked him who he wanted to stay with and against all odds, he had said Regina, though the former queen had tried her hardest to get him to leave. He was adamant. So, even though it had clearly broken her heart, she let him go, and was about to go off on her own, to be without her family once more when Snow White, much to Killian's surprise, stopped her and said she would go with Emma so she didn't have to be alone anymore.

Charming was more than reluctant to let her go.

"But you can't, Snow, what if-"

"There is no what if, David. I'm not abandoning my daughter again. Not this time, not when I have control over it," she said adamantly.

"I'm already losing my daughter. I can't lose you too." The prince looked close to tears.

"You're not losing us. We're a family and we always will be. You'll find me. You always have," she said with a teary smile, "We know what Emma is capable of, but she shouldn't have to go through it alone again." She looked at her daughter, her teary smile now filled with pride.

She was right of course, Emma was their only hope. She was the Savior, the one who could (and would, that fact Killian knew better than he knew the stars) break Pan's curse. Even if she hadn't wanted the role in the first place, she still took on her destiny with the courage and tenacity that he had come to love about her. Love that had consumed him, even as he watched her little yellow vessel cross the town line, taking her memories with it, leaving him with in pain, laced with a sense of finality that he hadn't felt since he lost Liam and Milah.

And now, as he was standing there next to their family, Prince Charming and the townspeople, he couldn't help but feel her right beside him. He wanted nothing more than to face this last adventure with Swan by his side. He knew he couldn't but at least he wasn't completely alone this time, as he had grown used to.

"Hook," the Prince said to his right, his voice shaking with sadness, as they all watched the town's fate loom closer and closer.

"Aye?"

"We need to get Snow and Emma. We have to," he said, reaching into his pockets.

"Tell me something I don't know, mate."

"Alright I will," Charming said, taking three small green vials with notes on them, "I took these from Gold's shop when we spoke with him. They're memory potions. We don't know what's going to happen after this curse does its damage, but it's anything like the other one, then our memories are in danger. These may be the only advantage we have over the curse. I'm trusting you with one; the note on the vial will tell you what to do if I'm right about the memories. I hadn't thought that Snow would leave, but..." he trailed off, handing them to him, but he was still shaking with emotion and another one of the vials fell and dropped to the ground, shattering on the street. The fog came faster.

"Leave it, it doesn't matter. We'll figure it out," Charming said, and his look turned imploring, "But you have to take yours. It's the only way. You have to remember-" and that was the last thing Killian heard before the smoke consumed them and the pain burst its way through his body.

Killian cracked his eyes open. He didn't remember going to sleep on the floor. He didn't remember going to sleep at all. In fact, he couldn't remember anything from the past few days, as though he had had just enough rum to keep the memories away. He sat up, feeling something clenched in his fist. He opened his hand to reveal a small green vial, which he promptly dropped with a look of confused disgust. That could have poison in it for all he knew.

Where was Cora? That blasted witch had probably left him behind again. He rubbed his eyes with his good hand but when he took it away, he saw that it was disfigured with scars as though he had been burned. And now that he was looking at it, he felt a dull heat, like he was sitting too close to a fire. In fact, the rest of his body felt that way as well.

The burning spread to his arms. He struggled with rolling his sleeves up, a task that was difficult normally but made even harder when he realized that his hook was gone, leaving behind the stump where his hand used to be. There were scars there too, and dark vein like tattoos webbed their way around his forearms and biceps. On his stumped arm, they wove themselves around a tattoo, one that-again-he couldn't remember getting.

It was of the Jolly Roger, one of the most realistic tattoos he had ever laid eyes on. He could almost hear the sound of the wind blowing in the sails, could almost see the ripples in the water and wait...that was odd. The waves were crashing into themselves as though they were real. The sails were blown out. The entire ship appeared to be moving. An enchantment of some sort, clearly. But how? Cora?

That's certainly a possibility, he thought.

But it didn't explain the burning, which was intensifying with each passing second. He stood stumbling around to find that he was in some sort of hall, with drape covered windows and a fully set dining hall table. Sunlight was fighting the curtains to get through, but it wasn't quite succeeding. He ambled forward towards what he could make out as two large doors at the end of the hall. But there was an object on the side that he didn't see and he tripped on what felt like another curtain. He fell to the floor, landing on his back with a thump. He sat up and found himself looking at a mirror, but the man staring back at him wasn't familiar at all.

The scars were all over his face and neck; and the veins that covered his arms had been joined by silver lines. And the burning. It was like a blaze through his body, more intense than ever.

A beast.

He looked like a disfigured beast, so he did what all beasts do.

He roared.