Neal hadn't made any plans for where they'd be staying - without any information on the town, he hadn't been able to. His only hope had been to find a hotel somewhere.

It was easier than he had expected - he found Granny's Bed and Breakfast right down the road from where they had entered. He parked the car along the curb and took a breath, trying to prepare himself for the unexpected. He felt silly for doing it. It was just a place to stay - he'd checked himself into hotels plenty of times before. But this was a cursed town, and he simply had no idea what he'd be running into ... if anything at all.

He roused Emma from her sleep.

"Wha-?" she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.

"We're here," he told her. "I'm gonna head inside and get the room. Take your time, wake Henry and get the luggage. I'll be back out to help."

She nodded in answer. He exited the car and headed for the door of the house. As he approached, he noticed the paint on the siding had faded and even pealed in some places. There was a broken flower pot on the porch and unswept leaves scattered the yard. The whole place had a look of minor neglect about it, but he went inside anyway.

He didn't find anyone once he entered except for a young woman and an old lady arguing at the kitchen table to his left down the hall.

"Er - excuse me!" he said, breaking into whatever they were talking about. "I'd like to get a room."

"Really?" said the old woman, sounding surprised, like no one ever wanted to room here.

Neal immediately wondered if this had been a bad decision. But he knew of no other places to stay in town, and after waking Emma, he certainly wasn't going to spend hours driving around and being chastised for not planning ahead.

The old woman shook her head. "I mean, of course you do!" She strode enthusiastically over to the desk and pulled out a guest log. "How long will you be staying?"

"Two weeks," he told her.

"Just you?"

"Ah, no," he said and pointed at the door. "My wife and son are outside at the car."

"Two beds then?"

"Yes, please."

"And your name?"

"Neal Cassady."

"New in town?" came a voice from behind him.

Neal jumped at the voice, but he had the fortitude not to knock himself into Granny's desk as he spun around to face the encounter he had most dreaded whenever his thoughts had turned to Storybrooke.

Standing across from him was his father. He looked different in his suit and tie, his hair well kept, and his skin free of any blemishes from the Dark One's curse. He could have been any ordinary business man.

And perhaps that's what he believed himself to be because he looked puzzled at Neal's reaction to him. He didn't recognize him at all as his own son.

Neal quickly recovered. "Ah, yeah, we, ah. We just got in."

"The rent's all here," said Granny, forcing a hand between them that held a thick roll of bills.

"Thank you, dear," said the man Neal knew as Rumpelstiltskin. "Of course it is." He took the money and put it in his pocket, and then he inclined his head. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Cassady."

Neal nodded, still utterly surprised at the change in his father and at the fact that he hadn't been recognized - not that he had actually wanted to be.

His father left, and Neal noticed that the young woman stood at the window to watch him leave down the sidewalk. It was almost like she was weary of him.

"Who is he?" Neal asked her.

"Mr. Gold," she said, and Neal thought it was a rather fitting name. "He owns this place."

"The inn?" he asked, finding that strange.

"No," said Granny. "The town."

That wasn't so strange.

Granny finished her book work and handed Neal a key from one of the many shelves at her side. "Welcome to Storybrooke," she said.

Neal took the key, feeling less and less enthusiastic about this trip. At least the part he'd most feared was over, for now.


It took Emma some time to get herself out of the car and then some more to get Henry out. They were both still groggy from getting up early that morning. But Neal had said they should take their time, so she didn't rush things.

They were getting the luggage out of the back of the car when Emma noticed a man in a suit walking toward them.

"You must be the family," he said with a soft grin. He pointed with his cane at the inn. "I was just meeting your husband."

She nodded. "I'm Emma, and this is my son, Henry." She put an arm around her son's shoulders.

"Emma," said the man, with a slightly surprised tone in his voice. And then he added. "What a lovely name."

"Thank you," said Emma, a little uncertainly.

The man looked at the young boy. "And what a gentlemanly name you have as well."

"Thanks," said Henry, apparently pleased.

The man inclined his head. "Enjoy your stay," he said, and then repeated her name more to himself than to her. "Emma."

She watched him as he left, and then she turned and looked back at the inn. She couldn't quite explain why, but she had the strangest feeling about this town.