There are many great stories that end in death- Romeo and Juliet, Les Miserables, Hamlet, Anna Karenina, just to name a few. But this story starts with death. The death of Mr. Gold.

It was an unfortunately sunny day, the day of his funeral, and the little party stood too hot in their black garb around the open grave.

"We gather here today to honor the life of a great man," Archibald Hopper read, feeling guilty for saying these things which no one found true. But he said them anyway, out of respect for the dead.

Belle French was the only one who cried. She knew she was being selfish, but she was crying for herself more than anything else. Mr. Gold has been her only friend in Storybrooke, if you could really call their relationship that.

They said hello to each other on the side walk. They had occasions conversations when they happened upon each other at the library or when she came into his shop. But above all, she wasn't afraid of him like the rest of the town, and he didn't treat her like she was crazy.

It was nice.

To her left, Mayor Regina Mills was stiff under her hat and veil. She and Gold weren't friends per say, and most of the time they considered the other an enemy, but never the less, Regina felt a twist of something in her chest watching the casket being lowered into the ground. She shifted, uncomfortable with a surge of emotion and adjusted her gloves.

Sheriff Emma Swan stole a glance at Mayor Mills and crossed her arms. Gold was a tough old bastard, and she was sure he was now burning in hell. Good riddance, in her opinion.

They watched the casket be lowered into the grave and each person threw a handful of dirt.

Hours later, the city was snug and warm in their beds. Asleep and undisturbed by the creatures of the night. But in the grave yard, a tall woman began to dig up the newly lain grave. As the moon rose in the sky, it caught the flair of red hair, and the shimmer of unnaturally pale skin.

Oh yes, he was hers now.

It was cold. Cold and dark.

Sirius Gold woke up from what felt like a long sleep with a dull ache in his neck. He reached up, to rub his neck and pulled away in horror.

Blood?

"Aahh, awake darling?" a scarily familiar voice said, "It's alright, relax Mr. Gold, we have all the time in the world."

"Zelena?" he croaked.

Zelana Mills leaned over his bed and nodded. It was one date. He'd known her for a month, for all of one, horrible, blind date. Then it was constant calls, she showed up at his shop unannounced, knocked on his door when he was trying to sleep.

He'd gone as far to get a restraining order with Sheriff Swan to bar Zelena Mills from his life. And that worked, but only for a week.

Yesterday she appeared in his kitchen, dressed in more black than he'd though possible.

"Oh Mr. Gold," she'd cooed, backing him into a wall.

"Get away from me!" he'd cried, but it was too late.

"The way we can be together, together forever, and nothing can keep us apart," and she bit him.

Now he pulled away, aghast, "Whats going on? Where am I? What did you do!?"

"I turned you," she replied, "Now you're just like me, a vampire."

"Get away from me," he struggled, but managed to get up, "There's no such thing as vampires, you're insane."

In response, Zelena snared, baring her teeth. Razor sharp fangs jutted from her mouth, and he recoiled in alarm.

"Still don't believe me?" she snapped, walking to the curtain and pulling it away.

Evening sunlight flooded the room, it was setting and in a few minutes it would be dark. But the light poured over him and it burned.

"Stop! Stop it!" he cried, it had only been seconds but the pain was excruciating.

Zelena replaced the curtains, smiling smugly, "Still think I'm insane? Face the facts, we're alike now, you and me."

"Stay away from me!" he yelled, making a brake for the door.

"Go ahead, go! But you won't get far! You'll be hungry soon, and you know what that means," she laughed as he escaped.

Another month passed, and soon Sirius found him self wandering the graveyard. Collar turned up, the day was gray and rainy, perfect for those avoiding the sunlight.

He passed under a tree and rounded the bend before he realized what he was doing- visiting his own grave. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets he slowed, feeling morbid.

What he didn't expect was to see was someone setting flowers on the tombstone.

The figure stood and turned down the path, walking quickly towards Sirius. With no place to hide, he stood still, wishing to be invisible. To his joy, the person didn't look at him, simply muttering, "Excuse me," as they past.

But he saw them.

Walking to his tomb stone, he picked up the bouquet and tucked it under his arm.

"Thank you, Miss French," he whispered into the wind.