Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, property, rights etc, I merely write this as a A/U which I needed to see happen as it would have made Storybrooke in a hell of a lot more trouble-whilst keeping our darling Cruella alive. Prompted by the idea that if Cruella had survived the fall off the cliff, would she have become the next Dark One in place of Emma Swan? One-shot, for now. Trigger warning; blood, M rating for some adult themes.


The streets filled with the thunderous sound as though a freight train had derailed from the tracks near the town line and crashed in the town center, twisting itself over and over into a coil of metal debris like an anaconda. The sound was matched in horror only by the visual manifestation of the darkness, an endless, surging, pulsing spiral of black ash and smoke like ink poured into water. The darkness towered above the intersection, the heroic spectators waiting and watching its' every move.

Suddenly, it accelerated down Storybrooke's main street, losing the eyes of the on looking heroes as it bent around the corner. One woman, a blonde in a white sweater, exclaimed into the air.

"It's going towards the hospital!"

She knew exactly who the darkness was seeking.

Monitors and equipment seized and failed, secure automatic doors began to slide back and forth on their tracks until they broke to herald the arrival of the black mass. With a shattering of glass, the darkness rushed into the critical care ward like water from an opened damn, nurses and doctors cowered to the floor in terror of it, the hot air flowed passed the desks tossing piles of paper into the air like dead leaves in a vortex. The darkness had found its new host.

One woman could hear the distinctive roar of the darkness above all other sound, but she did not shiver in fear. Cruella could barely feel anything; save the weight of the braces on her neck, the slings holding up her legs and arms which had been shattered into an irreparable state from the towns so called 'Savoir'. She shivered in anticipation. She closed her eyes.

The memory of her first kill, the sound of her father's head hitting the solid wood table in her mother's breakfast room, followed by the shatter of the saucer which dropped from his lifeless fingers, these memories of noises and sensations were triggered by the impending roar.

Cruella opened her eyes in time to see the vicious swirling mass hang above her head and like a lover, coax her head from the pillow and lifted her broken body free of the slings which confined her. The pain which shot through her rendered her momentarily unconscious, but the warm sensation which began to course through her body like electricity in her blood woke her and holding out her hands, she watched as the darkness forced its way into her fingers, her toes, her eyes, like retreating tears, and squeeze her breasts, too familiar a sensation to Ursula's amorous tentacles, as it pressed through her skin into her heart.

She knew exactly what this was, this new, invasive sheath of shadow which devoured her alive.

Cruella's body remained levitated above her starched and sterile hospital bed, the darkness had swallowed any remaining trace of the soiled and stifling bandages, slings and smocks. She began to gasp as she felt the darkness begin to pour over her wounds, the long stitches down the length of her legs where her jagged bones had penetrated the walls of her flesh. Cruella screamed as her neck was braced upright into position and a band of darkness coil around her neck and dissolve beneath her skin, hearing the bones beneath her ears click into place like the cock of a trigger. Closing her eyes, she felt the darkness sling under her back and begin to prop her upright, forcing her down onto her feet where she no longer felt the cold chill of the hospital tiles on her bare feet but instead, the familiar comfort of tall heels which clicked with every step. Cruella could feel the constraints of her new clothing on her back and legs, but also the sensation of tight bands around her knees and ankles.

Letting the darkness swirl around her, Cruella De Vil took her first step away from the foot of her bed. The chaos which surrounded her at once ceased, objects hung in the air suspended and the muffled cries and groans of the patients and nurses began to catch in her ears like a medley of bird calls. She approached a wall, which prior to the darkness invading, had possessed a mirror which reached the ceiling.

Cruella opened her palm and raised it aloft before the shattered fragments. The darkness surged towards the wall and true to the magic she had known and longed to possess again, reassembled the mirror to allow her eyes to acquaint themselves to her new exterior.

Cruella De Vil stared at her reflection enamored, her weathered and dirtied hospital smock had disappeared and in its place, an exquisite black embroidered coat with a fur collar the hue of fresh blood cradling the back her neck. The apparatus she felt tight against her joints were carved iron winches, cogs, and rods banded to her legs which allowed her to once again support the weight of her frame on her broken limbs. Strips of soft tightly bound leather protected her legs from the sharp and lethal apparatus. Across her décolletage and lain flush against her ribs, a single large ivory tusk whose point ended just beneath her chin, and proved the foundation of a bone necklace which segmented around her neck. Lastly, the remaining white hair which she had fashioned to the left of her eyes had turned crimson, hanging in front of her brilliant blue eyes which were framed by black shadow.

When she looked down at her feet, she began to laugh. An irregular dagger with jagged edges down the blade and winding ivory embellishment was on the ground before her.

"Come to me, darling" Cruella whispered softly, leaning down and feeling the armature of her braces engage into gear to accommodate her movement as she took the dagger into her hands.

"That dwarf couldn't serve you properly, I think you'll find my hand a better companion." Cruella said, running the pointed end along her other finger, cutting into the first layer of her skin and with a wince of pleasure and surprise, watching the black blood course down her scarred hand. With relish, she licked the stream of blood off her hand like a dog licking a wound. Cruella took two steps back from the mirror, and casting her hand back with the dagger pointed to the floor, destroyed the ward around her in a swirling mass with all the force and velocity of a tornado.

The Dark One was reborn.