Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or Once Upon a Time.

Notes: Sorry this took so long, guys! I had a lot of writer's block while writing this chapter, but I finally managed to get it done, and as some compensation, this one's unquestionably the longest chapter I've written for this story. Hope you all enjoy!

Timeline-wise, the present-day scenes in this episode all take place during OUAT Episode 1x21, "An Apple Red as Blood," while the flashback scenes take place immediately after the flashbacks from Chapter 13.


Chapter 15: Memories Found

In the Enchanted Forest, many years ago…

Frost, Snow and Red stood on the upper balcony of Toothiana's Rainbow Tower, gazing off into the darkened sky. The sun would not rise for several more hours, but the moonlight alone was enough for them to make out the dark, swirling cloud that was approaching from the north, rolling slowly but inexorably over the mountains. Lightning crackled along the stormfront, and a gust of cold wind rushed past them: Snow and Red both shivered, and even Frost felt a chill run down his spine.

"Pitch," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as his hand tightened on his staff.

"He's coming," Red agreed, her eyes flickering gold and her lips compressed in a grim frown as she shifted a little closer to him. "My guess is this won't be as easy as last time."

"Indeed." Snow nodded and let out a soft, breathless chuckle, before adjusting her bow and checking her arrows. "But we've got more help this time, so hopefully we should be all right." Despite her optimistic tone, however, she was clearly just as nervous as they were. Toothiana's fairy servants seemed to share that opinion, as they were buzzing around the tower with a higher degree of urgency.

A moment later, a call of "Snow!" from inside the tower entrance drew the three friends' attention back over to it, as Blue fluttered outside. "Come quickly!" she called, beckoning for them to follow her. "Lady Toothiana has found what she needs to restore Frost's memories!"

Frost's eyes widened, and he hurried after Blue with Red and Snow close behind him. In addition to the simple desire to regain his lost memories, he had another motive now: while he'd developed some instinctive knowledge of how to use his powers since he'd first woken up in that pond, it seemed clear to him that only recovering his memories would enable him to properly control them… and with Pitch on his way, learning to control his powers properly was of paramount importance.

Toothiana was in the throne room, calling out orders to her fairies as they swirled around the tower's interior, preparing for the impending battle. Toothiana spun around in the air as the quartet entered the throne room, smiling brightly as she saw Frost. "We finally found it, Jack!" she spoke up happily, raising a wooden cylinder with strange symbols carved into its surface. "This contains the source of your stored memories. Now that we've got it, all I need to do is perform the ritual, and you'll have them back."

"That's wonderful!" Snow beamed. "So how does it work?"

"Here, I'll show you." Toothiana beckoned to them as she drifted quickly down to the floor. As Frost, Snow and Red walked over to her, she gave a quick twist of her hands, and the cylinder split open along a hidden seam that ran from one end to the other, revealing…

Frost blinked. "…What?" he questioned after a moment. Red and Snow appeared to be equally perplexed.

The objects inside the wooden cylinder… were teeth. A complete set of small, human teeth, perfectly clean and white.

"This is how we're going to get Frost's memories back?" Red inquired, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Of course!" Toothiana smiled as she looked up at them; her smile became a little more curious, before she suddenly rolled her eyes and clapped one long-nailed hand to her forehead. "Oh, that's right, I didn't tell you this part! No wonder you're confused!" She laughed and shook her head sheepishly. "You see, to collect memories, I need to use an appropriate receptacle for them, something that was once part of that person or closely connected to them. The best type of receptacle that I've found, and therefore the type that I've settled on over the years, are baby teeth." She smiled. "Humans have two sets of teeth, you see: the set you use for most of your life, and a smaller set that you use as children, which eventually fall out once you've grown old enough that they're no longer effective for you. Those first sets of teeth are ideal for my purposes, so I collect them, with help from my attendants, and use them to store the memories of the people that they came from."

"Well, that's… rather gross… but effective," Snow admitted, only cringing a little. "So how are you going to use them to restore Frost's memories?"

"It would be easier to show you." Toothiana smiled and waved over to the five thrones at the back of the room, pointing to the one adorned with the stylized carving of a snowflake. "Jack? Please sit there, if you wouldn't mind."

A frown flickered across Frost's lips, but he nodded and followed her instructions, walking across the room and lowering himself onto the ornate wooden throne. He leaned back in the chair as Toothiana drifted after him, touching down in front of him and holding out the wooden container. Carefully accepting the container from her, he looked down curiously at the teeth inside. Are these really mine?

"Now, please close your eyes and relax," Toothiana instructed. She lifted slightly into the air again, her wings fluttering to keep herself aloft as she gently rested both of her hands on Frost's head. "Take deep breaths, and try to clear your thoughts. This spell will draw on the memories within the teeth and transfer them back into you, which should be enough to destroy the barrier that Pitch has placed in your mind. Once that happens, all of your suppressed memories should return." She looked down at him, meeting his eyes, and smiled kindly. "Are you ready?"

Frost couldn't help feeling nervous, but he took a deep breath before nodding decisively. "Yes," he replied firmly. "I'm ready."

"Excellent!" Toothiana's smile widened, and she closed her eyes. "Then let's get started."

Over the next few minutes, Toothiana and Frost both appeared to sink into a trance: their eyes drifted closed, and their breathing became slow, deep, and even. Toothiana was murmuring softly under her breath, reciting a lengthy incantation in a language that Snow and Red didn't recognize. As they watched, her hands began to glow, wreathing Frost's head in a halo of soft blue light, and the set of baby teeth in the container began to do the same. The glow slowly grew brighter, lighting up Toothiana's face as she frowned in visible concentration.

Finally, a visible pulse of light rippled outwards from Frost's head, echoed by another pulse of energy from the tooth container in his hands. He winced, his face scrunching up for a moment, before he relaxed again.

In the same moment, Toothiana's eyes snapped open and she exhaled, lowering her hands and floating back away from him. "There we go," she breathed, nodding with a satisfied smile. "It's working: the spell is taking effect. It will take a little time, but his mind is connecting with the memories stored within the teeth. As soon as that connection is fully formed, the memories will flow back into his mind, and that should break the barrier formed by Pitch's spell and open the floodgates for the rest of his memories to return."

Red hurried over to Frost's side, resting one hand gently on his shoulder as she regarded him with a concerned frown. "And he'll be all right?" she questioned.

"Of course," Toothiana assured her, a faint twinkle in her eyes as her gaze flicked back and forth between Red and Frost. "Don't worry, he'll be fine. It will take a few minutes for the spell to do its work, but he's okay; all we have to do is wait."

At that exact moment, a deafening crack of thunder boomed through the tower. Snow and Red both cried out in shock and clapped their hands over their ears, while Blue, Toothiana, and the other fairies flinched in surprise. Even Frost flinched, the explosion of noise momentarily cutting through his trance.

"Scratch that," Toothiana muttered as she looked up at the ceiling, her expression hardening. "We need to get outside. We're out of time." She glanced over her shoulder to the others, an uncharacteristic scowl on her face, and Snow and Red both felt a chill running down their spines as she spoke again.

"Pitch is here."


In Beacon Hills…

Jackson leaned back in his seat as he pulled up and parked his rental car outside the Beacon Hills vet clinic. Lydia was sitting across from him in the passenger's-side seat, while Stiles and Isaac were crammed in the back: all four of their bags were packed into the trunk, so they'd be ready to head out for the airport as soon as they were done there. Stiles had grumbled about leaving his Jeep at home, but he'd grudgingly agreed that taking Jackson's rental car would be better than having to leave his Jeep at the airport for however long they might be back east. Scott had advised Jackson not to purchase any plane tickets for them yet, though, as there was no way of knowing how long this meeting might take and they didn't want to risk being late for their flight.

Scott was already at the clinic, waiting for them outside of the front entrance; he'd had work earlier that afternoon, and had decided to stick around after his shift so he could set up this appointment with Deaton. He waved as they climbed out of the car, grinning and nodding over to the door. "C'mon, guys!" he called. "Deaton's all ready for us."

"You're sure you want to do this?" Lydia questioned, murmuring quietly to Jackson as they followed Stiles and Isaac across the parking lot. "I've seen the guys going through things like this before, and it's not fun." She frowned, looking uncharacteristically concerned.

Jackson sighed and shook his head. "I mean… I don't really want to, but I can't think of any other way to prove whether this stuff I've been seeing is real or not. According to McCall, this vet guy's an expert on weird supernatural stuff, so hopefully he can help me figure it out." He shrugged, giving her a lopsided grin and trying to suppress the uneasy feeling in his gut. "I figure it's at least worth a try."


Jackson hadn't really interacted with Scott's boss before now, but based on what he'd been told about the guy's mysterious knowledge of the supernatural, he had been expecting something weirder than this: a perfectly ordinary, middle-aged man, with dark skin, a shaved head, neatly-trimmed facial hair, and a spotless white lab coat.

"Jackson?" the man greeted him with a friendly smile and nod as he stepped out from behind the front desk of the vet clinic's waiting room, offering one hand. "I'm Doctor Alan Deaton. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Jackson replied, nodding as he shook Deaton's hand. "So, uh… Scott said you might be able to help me with this problem that I've been having?"

"Well, I'll certainly do my best," Deaton replied with a nod, before gesturing for Jackson and the others to take a seat in the waiting room's chairs. "First, I'd like to know: what exactly is it that you'd like my help with? Scott explained a little of it, but I'd like to hear what you have in mind."

Jackson nodded. "Oh, yeah, of course." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sank into a chair. "I mean, you're probably not gonna believe me… hell, I don't know if I really believe any of this… but here goes."

Over the next few minutes, Jackson gave a quick rundown of everything that he had experienced over the last couple of months since leaving London. He started with the series of impromptu decisions that had led him from London to Storybrooke – which had felt logical enough at the time, but now seemed increasingly strange to him in retrospect – and went on to briefly describe his experiences after arriving in Storybrooke, including his encounter with Deucalion.

"But that's not the thing that I wanted to talk to you about," he continued, looking up at Deaton. "See… okay, so this is where it gets really crazy." He went on to describe his interactions with Henry, and reluctantly explained the kid's theory that the whole town of Storybrooke was under a magical curse and that its occupants were actually a bunch of brainwashed fairy-tale characters with their original memories erased. Even as he went through the story, he had to resist the urge to groan and facepalm. Listen to yourself! God, this sounds so freaking stupid.

Some of the others seemed to share this opinion: Stiles and Isaac, at least, were both looking at Jackson with expressions that suggested they were questioning his sanity. Scott and Lydia looked more concerned than anything else, while Deaton was listening calmly without showing any outward signs of emotion.

"You're kidding, right?" Stiles ultimately spoke up after a moment of silence, shaking his head and suppressing a laugh. "You seriously think there are a bunch of fairy-tale characters running around a town in Maine? No offense, Jackson, but that's, like… the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You know fairy-tale characters don't actually exist, right?"

"Says the guy who's currently in a room with three werewolves, a banshee, and a mystical druid," Jackson shot back, shrugging as he indicated the room's other occupants with a sweep of his arm. "I've got no idea whether it's real or not, but I think we passed the point of just handwaving away things that 'don't actually exist' a long time ago."

"I mean..." Stiles was about to make another retort, but he abruptly stopped in midsentence and frowned. "That's… actually not a bad point," he admitted.

Jackson nodded. "Look, I know it sounds completely nuts. And if it was just that kid's conspiracy theory, I wouldn't have thought anything more about it. But… it isn't just him." He resumed his story, now talking about August and the way the strange writer had seemed to be firmly convinced that Henry's curse theory was 100% true, even claiming that Jackson himself was actually one of those mindwiped fairy-tale characters as well. He also noted the couple of other people around town who'd also acted strangely around him, such as the weird guy that he and Emma had encountered in the mansion in the woods, and even the way Mr. Gold and Regina had acted when they'd first seen him, almost as if they had somehow seen him before.

"But all of that could still just be coincidences or me misreading things," he continued, shrugging. "Here's the weird part, though. When that August guy was trying to convince me that this whole 'curse' theory is legit, he gave me the fairy-tale book to try and prove it, telling me that if I read it, I might understand better. So I checked it out, and…" He winced as another of the by-now-familiar lances of pain jolted through his brain. "And… it kinda did. Ever since I read through that book, I've been seeing… what feels like memories. At least, they seem like memories, but… they're not mine. I've been seeing flashes of places I've never been to before and people I've never met, and I don't know why."

Wincing again as the headache jabbed him a second time, he fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the photo that he'd taken of a page from Henry's book, the first page of the chapter that had really triggered the start of these strange memory-flashes. "And this is the weirdest part. Check this out." He held up the phone so the others could see it, its screen now displaying the picture in question: the artist's detailed rendering of Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter. "So, is it just my imagination, or… does that guy look a lot like me?"

Lydia, Scott and Deaton all leaned in, examining the image closely. Deaton remained as calm as ever, just letting out a quiet, thoughtful hum, but both Scott and Lydia's eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "Okay… yeah, that's a little weird," Scott agreed, nodding slowly and frowning as his eyes drifted back to the screen.

"No kidding." Jackson snorted humorlessly. "And the reason why I wanted to come here was because of something you told me when we talked at the diner, McCall." He nodded to Scott and then to Stiles, leaning back in his chair a little. "From what you said, a couple months back when you two needed to access a memory that you'd lost, you guys did some kind of ritual therapy thing to help you find them, right?"

Scott and Stiles exchanged a glance, nodding. "Yeah, we did," Stiles confirmed, shivering a little as he remembered that ordeal. "Basically our parents got kidnapped by a crazy dark druid, so we had to figure out the location of an old magical tree where she was holding them, and it turned out that we'd all been near that tree before so the ritual helped us to remember where it was."

"And we were able to do something like that for you too, remember?" Scott put in, nodding over to Isaac. "Back when the Alpha pack first showed up, after one of them attacked you and stole some of your memories?"

Isaac clearly didn't seem sure about any part of Jackson's story, but he nodded in response to Scott's question. "Yeah, we did," he agreed. "They'd blocked off some of my memories, so these two and Derek put me in an ice-bath to help turn off my brain for a bit, and that helped me to tap into those suppressed memories again."

Jackson nodded understandingly, wincing and shivering a bit as he thought about that. Yikes. "Okay, then," he murmured more quietly, before looking up at Deaton. "So, in that case, as long as that system works…"

"You'd like to try and do the same, to see if we can tap into whatever hidden memories are trapped within your mind?" Deaton surmised.

"Or at least give it a shot," Jackson agreed. "Normally I'd never want to do something like this, but… under the current circumstances I feel like I need to try and figure this out, or it's just gonna keep driving me crazy." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing his eyes as he slouched back in his chair, before making an effort to shake it off and returning his focus to Deaton. "So? Can you help me?"

Deaton considered for a moment, before he shrugged and nodded, his lips curling in a faint smile. "I don't see why not. I'll need to get everything set up first, but that won't take long. Scott, could you help me with that?" Upon receiving affirmation from the other werewolf, he nodded and his smile grew a little larger. "Excellent! In the meantime, for the rest of you, please make yourselves comfortable. We should be ready to begin in a few minutes." With that, he ducked back behind the front desk and through the doorway that led to the back rooms of the clinic, with Scott following close behind him.

Jackson groaned as another split-second flash of images shot through his mind, but he shook them off and tried to focus back on the situation at hand. Hopefully this could actually help him to figure out what those strange memory-flashes really were.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Lydia spoke up, quietly enough that only the werewolves could hear her.

"Honestly, no, not really," Jackson replied dryly. "But I think it's the best option I've got right now, under the circumstances." He shrugged. "Worst-case scenario, it probably just won't work and I'll be no worse off than I was before. But if I am somehow right about this…" He allowed that to trail off meaningfully, arching one eyebrow and chuckling softly. "Then I figure it's worth a try."

Inwardly, however, he wasn't so sure. Because the idea that Henry's curse theory was somehow true gave him mixed feelings, to say the least. If it was just a bunch of nonsense, that was fine, because then all he'd have to worry about when he got back to Storybrooke would be the problem posed by Deucalion.

But if it was true… then Jackson was very glad that the others would be going back to Storybrooke with him. Because he would probably need all the help he could get.


In the Enchanted Forest, many years ago…

Snow raced up the winding stairs of Toothiana's tower, unslinging her bow and pulling an arrow from her quiver as she ran. Blue kept pace with her, while Toothiana's fairy servants surged up around them like a whirlwind. Red had stayed in the throne room, wanting to protect Frost while he was in his trance, but had promised that they would join the fight as soon as he woke up. Toothiana had quickly explained that she had reinforcements on the way, but they were going to have to hold off the enemy by themselves until her allies arrived.

As Snow stepped outside onto the highest exterior balcony, she was taken aback by the sight that greeted her. The huge cloud of darkness that she had seen approaching over the mountains had arrived, swirling around the flat-topped mountain where Toothiana had built her tower. From this distance, she could now tell that, rather than being simple water vapor, this "storm" was made entirely from a huge, swirling cloud of black sand. And moving within it, flying in circles around the tower, were the distinctive forms of Pitch's Nightmares, the creatures that she, Frost and Red had encountered in the village a few days earlier. They possessed a variety of different physical characteristics, like a combination of several different types of animals: reptilian heads like the head of a crocodile, a body like a mix of a horse and a big cat, and huge batlike wings that carried them effortlessly through the air.

The sheer number of the Nightmares turned Snow's blood to ice. There were hundreds of them, far more than the dozens of creatures that had attacked the village. Clearly, Pitch had been working on producing more of the monsters in preparation for this attack.

And hovering at the center of the storm, just in front of the tower, was the monsters' leader. Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, hung weightlessly in midair, a cruel smile clearly visible on his pale face. Snow shrank back into the entryway; she didn't want him to know that she and Frost were here until the spell had done its work, since Frost couldn't defend himself at the moment.

"Pitch," Toothiana called out, her usually-cheerful voice cool and calculating as she rose up above the tower to face the demon. "I don't recall inviting you for a visit."

"My apologies, Toothiana," Pitch drawled, his empty black eyes glittering darkly as his cruel grin widened. "I was just in the area, so I decided to stop by and see how you were getting along without Jack around." He idly held out a hand and stroked the head of a Nightmare as it broke from its circling pattern to hover beside him. "Do you like my newest Nightmares? I've been tinkering with them since the last time we met, and I think I've definitely been able to make some improvements." He chuckled softly. "Dear Jack certainly enjoyed them."

"So I've heard." Toothiana scowled, her hands hanging at her sides but ready to burst into motion at the slightest whisper of movement. "What do you want, Pitch?"

"Straight to the point, I see," Pitch smirked. "Very well, then. I want your collection, my dear. All those memories, all those childhood dreams… they'll make a simply wonderful feast for my pets." He spread his arms, indicating the swarm of Nightmares surrounding them. "I'm already well on my way to building an army; with your vault, I'll be able to fuel the birth of thousands more, and there will be no force in this realm that will stand a chance against me." His eyes were like two fathomless voids, and his smile widened as his gaze locked back on her. "But I'm feeling generous today, and your Guardian friends aren't here to help you, so I'll give you a choice. If you take your little fairies and leave the collection to me, I won't try to harm you. But if you defy me, I'll have no choice but to destroy you… just as I did to Jack." He arched one eyebrow, his lip curling as his smirk became a little more amused. "So? What do you say?"

Toothiana was silent for a moment, but then she scowled. "Not a chance," she snapped, her eyes flashing as a long, glowing spear with a blade at each end, seemingly made of solid golden light, materialized in her hands. "If you want my collection, you're going to have to go through me to get it."

Pitch sighed, shaking his head. "So be it. Just remember, my dear… I tried to play nice." With a flick of his wrist, a swirl of black sand coalesced in his palm, expanding and solidifying into a weapon: not a sword like the one that he'd used in the village, but a massive scythe with a long, curved blade, as dark as ebony. He slashed it once through the air, before leveling it at Toothiana. "Little ones?" he called out, the words suddenly becoming much louder and echoing across the entire mountaintop as he used his magic to amplify his voice. "Kill them all."

With a collective howl, the Nightmares came pouring down, descending upon the tower. Toothiana's fairies let out a chorus of shrill battle cries in response, and surged out to meet them with no hesitation. Blue took up a protective stance beside Snow, a rush of glowing magic swirling around her, as Toothiana herself charged straight for Pitch.

Snow had just enough time to mutter a curse under her breath and notch an arrow to her bow, and then the battle began.


In Beacon Hills…

After about half an hour, Scott popped back out into the waiting room to inform Jackson and the others that he and Deaton had finished setting things up for the ritual. The others followed him back to the main room of the clinic, where Deaton was waiting next to a large metal tub that had been filled with water and ice cubes, with several different kinds of herbs mixed in as well.

"This is the same method that I used to help Isaac in the past, with a few alterations," Deaton explained as he indicated the tub. "The ice bath and the herbs will place you into a deep trance, and in that state you should be able to recover any memories that have been suppressed or hidden from your conscious mind. Therefore, if your suspicions are correct and you do have another set of memories buried in your mind, this should allow you to access them."

Jackson winced as he briefly dipped his fingers into the icy water, before raising an eyebrow and blinking quizzically as he looked back over to Deaton. "Uh… no offense, doc," he replied, "but I feel like you're almost taking this a little too well." He chuckled softly. "I was kinda expecting you to think I was crazy."

Deaton shrugged. "I've seen a great many things in my life, Jackson. The phenomenon that you've described – someone recalling memories from a previous life – might be rare, but it has been reported plenty of times over the years." He smiled faintly. "If there's one thing I've learned in my time working with the supernatural, it's that anything is possible."


Jackson stood next to the tub, already feeling goosebumps on his skin as he finished shrugging off his shirt and kicked off his shorts. "Let's make sure to have towels and a hairdryer ready as soon as I'm done, please," he muttered, shivering as he looked down into the tub, before he shook his head and focused back on Deaton. "Okay, let's get this over with. How do we do this?"

"All you need to do is step into the tub and immerse yourself," Deaton explained. "I won't lie: it's going to be very unpleasant at first, but that should fade once the cold's effects kick in."

"So once I get cold enough I'll go numb," Jackson deadpanned. "Fantastic." He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "All right, the hell with it. Let's do this." Taking a couple of deep breaths and bracing himself, he stepped up to the tank, swinging one leg up and over the edge, and climbed in.

It actually took a second for the searing cold to register, but then Jackson's entire body locked up for a moment and he let out a strangled growl of pain as the icy water enveloped him. "Son of a bitch!" he hissed, accompanied by a string of muttered curses as he latched onto the edges of the tub with both hands, gripping the metal tightly as he forced himself to sink slowly into the tub, lowering himself almost entirely under the water.

"Do your best to take deep breaths and relax," Deaton instructed. "I know it's difficult, but you can do it, and it's important if this is going to work."

"He's right," Isaac agreed, nodding from where he was leaning against the wall. "I've been there: it really sucks, but you just have to let your body relax."

"Easy for you to s-say, Lahey," Jackson gritted out. His body was shivering uncontrollably, and he was only keeping himself still by holding onto the edges of the tub. "Any other… helpful little t-tips?"

Isaac arched an eyebrow. "Well… Scott and Derek did help with mine. Helped to keep me still and calm, even helped to deal with some of the pain that came from the cold." He shrugged idly. "Although Derek's bedside manner wasn't the greatest."

Jackson snorted humorlessly. "Well, that's real helpful," he snarked. "Considering that Derek's not here and all… wait, what?" He blinked and turned as he heard footsteps approaching him.

"I mean, I'm not Derek," Scott spoke up with a faint grin as he stopped next to Jackson, "but hopefully I'll do." He placed one hand on Jackson's shoulder, and he felt a strange sensation of warmth running through him, as if some of the pain from the icy water was being drained away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the veins in Scott's hand and wrist suddenly flush darker, as if they were filled with ink instead of blood.

"McCall?" Jackson shivered again and sank a little lower into the tub as he looked up at Scott, frowning. "What're you doing?"

Scott shrugged, chuckling softly. "Just doing what I can to help." His smile became a little more amused as Jackson's brow furrowed in confusion. "Did you forget? You're part of the pack now, man. And in this pack, we all look out for each other, no matter what." He glanced over to Isaac, who nodded in agreement (albeit a little reluctantly) and stepped up on Jackson's other side, placing a supporting hand on his other shoulder.

Jackson stared wide-eyed at Scott for a long moment, his shivering temporarily forgotten. "I… thanks, man," he murmured eventually, not sure how else to respond. He'd never experienced anything like that before: he'd never really been part of Derek's pack, even after he'd become a proper werewolf. His time as the older werewolf's Beta had consisted mainly of Derek's teaching him how to use his powers, before the time had come for him to leave Beacon Hills and head to London, but he'd never actually learned what being part of a pack was like.

This, however, was completely different. Scott was barely recognizable as the same guy that Jackson had known before he'd left town: all of the crap that they'd been through since he left had turned McCall into a strong, confident leader. And despite everything else that he was dealing with at the moment… Jackson actually felt happy about the idea of being part of this pack.

"All right…" Taking a couple of deep breaths and doing his best to clear his mind, Jackson sank further down into the tub, so only his head was lifted above the water, and kept a tight hold on the tub as Scott and Isaac kept ahold of his shoulders to help him stay still. Let's get this done.


In the Enchanted Forest, many years ago…

Despite the battle that was now raging outside of the Rainbow Tower, Frost was completely oblivious to the danger. He was deep in the trance where Toothiana had guided him, his breathing slow and calm, as he drifted in the peaceful, silent darkness that now shrouded his mind.

Then, after an endless moment that could have lasted for seconds or for centuries… there was a light. Glowing brighter with each passing second, it was cutting through the darkness and drawing him inexorably towards it. He resisted at first, but then he remembered Toothiana's explanation and went with the flow, moving towards the light.

It loomed before him now: a vast wall of glowing blue light, stretching away into infinity. He reached out to touch it, but came up short when he saw that there was something in the way. A dark, jagged pattern of lines, like a spider's web, blocked his path, preventing him from reaching the light. After some confusion, he realized what this must be: the mental block that Pitch had forced into his mind, sealing off his memories.

Normally, he would have been unable to affect this shadowy barrier. But now, thanks to Toothiana's spell, he was able to strike back against the Nightmare King's dark magic. Seizing the threads of the barrier, he began to rip and tear through them, raking his hands through the insubstantial barrier and unraveling it one strand at a time. That struggle lasted for another timeless, endless moment, but finally it was over, and Frost found himself floating once more before the wall of light, which was now unobstructed thanks to a large hole that he had torn through the barrier.

And then, at last, he reached out and touched the light. It poured out, shredding the rest of Pitch's barrier and washing it away, and his world turned white as a flood of light and sound poured into his mind. At first it was overwhelming, but gradually individual snapshots of memory began to coalesce.


"Jack! I'm scared!"

Jack, a teenage boy with warm brown eyes and a mess of spiky brown hair, held out a cautious hand towards his younger sister, who stood unsteadily on the cracking ice of a frozen lake. "It's okay," he assured her, doing everything he could to keep his voice steady. "Don't worry: you're going to be fine. Just don't move until I tell you to. Do you understand?"

The girl's eyes were wide with terror and tears were leaking down her cheeks, but she nodded shakily. "Y-yes," she whimpered. "I understand."

Jack nodded, moving slowly and carefully across the ice towards her while inwardly cursing himself for his recklessness. They'd been so eager to go out skating for the first time this winter that he hadn't checked to make sure that the lake's ice was thick enough for it to be completely safe. This was his fault, but he couldn't dwell on that right now. All that mattered was keeping his sister safe.

"All right," he murmured soothingly as he got close enough, stretching one arm out as far as he could. "Take my hand, okay? You're safe, I promise."

His sister was shivering uncontrollably, both from cold and from fear, but she nodded and hesitantly reached out, offering her hand. Jack's fingers closed around hers, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he smiled at her. "Okay," he continued, trying desperately to keep his voice from cracking with nerves. "Just keep looking at me, all right? One…" He held up three fingers, tucking one of them down. "Two…"

The ice under their feet cracked again, and Jack's gaze flickered downward for a second before his eyes hardened, the fear replaced by a steely resolve. "Three!" He held his sister's hand tightly as he swung his arm in a wide, powerful arc. Her ice-skates slid smoothly across the cracking ice, and he let go at the exact right moment to send her skimming back towards the shore of the frozen lake, where the ice was thicker and she could make it to dry land safely.

Jack grinned breathlessly. "Well, how about that?" he muttered. "It actually –"

That was when the ice under his feet cracked again, and he dropped down several inches as water sloshed around his skates. Jack's smile vanished, and he looked up just in time to see his sister swinging around to face him with a wide-eyed, horrified look on her face…

And then the ice caved in entirely, and he dropped straight down into the deep, icy water.

The last sound Jack heard in his first, mortal life, as the dark and frigid water closed over his head, was his sister screaming his name.


The full moon rose high over the frozen lake, as a cold gust of wind swept over the ice. If anyone else had been present, they would have seen the sudden flash of brilliant blue light that pulsed outward from the normally-silver glow of the moon, before swirling into a concentrated beam that struck the surface of the lake like a ray of sunlight focused through a magnifying glass.

For a long moment, nothing happened. But then the ice cracked and burst asunder in that spot, crumbling and melting away, as the limp and unresisting body of Jack rose up out of the water, lifted into the air by an unseen force. Even as he did, however, he changed: his skin became even paler than it had been before, while his hair shifted from a rich brown to a pure, gleaming white, the color of freshly-fallen snow.

And when he gasped and opened his eyes, they were no longer brown, but a brilliant shade of blue.


"You're sure you don't want me to go with you?" Toothiana inquired as she and Jack stood on the balcony of her tower. "I really wouldn't mind, you know."

"No, it's okay." Jack chuckled and shook his head. "I've been to Arendelle plenty of times before: this time shouldn't be any different. And if Pitch really is trying to cause trouble there, and it gets ugly, I'll contact you guys for backup." He twirled his staff, summoning a gust of icy wind, and leapt into the air. "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it!" Just like that, he was gone, soaring off into the cloudy sky and disappearing from view.

Toothiana frowned, feeling an odd sense of foreboding running down her spine. "I really hope you're right, Jack," she murmured.


Jack tumbled end-over-end through the cold night air, his staff whirling as he fired blasts of ice at the pursuing pack of Nightmares, his voice rising in a series of shouted curses. In hindsight, he really should have expected something like this, but the triumph of his successful mission to Arendelle had left him off-guard, and he'd been ambushed on his way back to the Enchanted Forest.

"Come on, Jack!" Pitch Black laughed, his eyes burning with triumph as he pressed the attack, hurling several fireballs after the winter spirit. "Can't stand up to me without your friends or your little Snow Queen to back you up?"

"Go to hell!" Jack yelled back at him, hurling a volley of icicles that impaled two of the oncoming Nightmares. Pitch, however, deflected the ones that were aimed at him, melting them with another fireball and producing an explosion of steam. When the cloud cleared, he was gone.

"Dammit…" Jack scowled, spinning around and smacking away another lunging Nightmare with a blow from his staff. Where'd he –

A sudden impact hit him square in the chest, flipping him head-over-heels. A bolt of cold agony followed, lancing through his entire body and sending him tumbling towards the ground as he lost control of his flight. He looked down at himself, to see the hilt of a dark, gleaming dagger protruding from his chest.

"Oh," he breathed, his eyes widening in alarm.

That was when another impact slammed into him from the side, and suddenly Pitch was there, holding him by the throat with an iron-strong grip. "Pathetic," he spat, his black eyes burning into Jack's as he took ahold of the dagger's hilt and deliberately twisted the blade, drawing a strangled gasp of pain. "After all the trouble you've caused me when you had your friends around to help you, I had thought you'd do better than this on your own." He snorted and wrenched the dagger back out, tossing it aside as it reverted back to black sand and disintegrated. "Clearly I was wrong."

Jack glared defiantly back at Pitch, gripping his forearm with one hand as he tried to wrench himself free, but he couldn't summon up the strength to do so. He weakly raised his staff in his other hand and swung a blow at Pitch's head, but the demon contemptuously smacked it aside.

"Unfortunately, you're as tough as the rest of those damn Guardians," Pitch muttered, "which means I probably can't kill you even now." An idea came to him, and he smirked. "But I think I do know a way to get rid of you, at least for a while." His free hand rose and latched onto Jack's head, his eyes somehow darkening even further as energy hummed and crackled around them.

In that moment, Jack felt a pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before: a searing, burning agony, as Pitch's magic tore into his mind itself, ripping through his defenses and turning his world into a burning dark void. He desperately struggled to free himself, screaming out in pain, but there was nothing he could do.

"And there we go," Pitch drawled, his smirk growing as he lowered his hand. "So long, Jack. Whether you survive this or not, I don't think I'll be seeing you again." With that, he released the grip of his other hand, and Jack fell.

Tumbling helplessly through the cold winter sky, Jack's body vanished into the forest below. If he'd hit solid ground, even with his enhanced abilities, the impact would have shattered bones and caused serious damage. But as it turned out, his uncontrolled fall to earth ended with his crashing down into the center of a half-frozen pond, smashing through a thin layer of ice on top and sinking into the water below.

Then everything was silent, and cold… and the darkness closed in around him.

And Jack, the fifth Guardian, was gone.


As a loud crash echoed through the interior of the tower, Red rushed over to the balcony and looked down. Her heart sank as she saw the forms of a dozen Nightmares that had smashed through the doors of the tower's ground-level entrance, and were now either climbing or flying up towards them. "Damn it…" she murmured, backing up to stand protectively in front of the wooden throne where Frost still sat motionless. As the Nightmares began pulling themselves up into the throne room, she undid the clasps of her red cloak and looked up to where the moon shone down through the tower's immense skylight. Her eyes flared gold as she prepared to throw off the cloak and transform. Despite knowing that she was outnumbered, she was prepared to do whatever it took to protect her friend.

Behind her, Frost shifted on the throne. His eyes flickered beneath their lids, and his fingers twitched and clenched around the wooden cylinder, which had now clicked shut again.

A cold gust of wind, with no discernable source, swirled through the tower, sending a chill down Red's back. In the process of removing her cloak, she stopped short and turned to face the thrones, her eyes widening in hope. Even the Nightmares stopped their advance for a moment, their glowing orange eyes narrowing as deep growls rumbled in their throats.

Frost was silent and still for a long moment. But then his eyes snapped open, shining blue… and he smiled. His staff flipped up off the floor and sailed across the room towards him, carried by a rush of wind. One of his hands snapped up just in time to catch it, and he slammed the lower end down on the stone floor, a pulse of magic rippling out through the air and calming the wind.

"Well," he spoke up in the momentary silence that followed. His eyes gleamed warmly as his gaze fell upon Red, before his lips compressed in a faint, cool smile as he looked over to the Nightmares. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"


In Beacon Hills…

The burning cold that had enveloped Jackson's entire body was finally starting to fade, his limbs and muscles slowly going numb. On one level he knew that was a bad thing, but hopefully it meant that the ritual was working. His head was reclined back against the side of the tub, his eyes half-closed and his vision blurring. He was still shivering, but his breath was much more even now than it had been a few minutes earlier. Scott and Isaac's hands on his shoulders helped to ground him, warding off some of the pain and helping to keep his shivers to a minimum.

"Deep breaths, Jackson," Deaton instructed, his voice soft but carrying a subtle intensity to it. "You're okay. Just let your mind go blank: no thoughts, no conscious memories."

As the numbing cold continued to spread, Jackson let his body relax and felt his thoughts grow more and more clouded. His eyes drifted shut, a faint flicker of blue appearing under the lids, and his grip on the edges of the tub relaxed. Following a sudden instinct, he took in the deepest breath he could and submerged his head as well, allowing himself to sink entirely beneath the surface as the darkness closed in around him.


For a long moment, there was nothing. Then a steady stream of memories began flowing past him: images from his time at Storybrooke, in London, in Beacon Hills. It took a moment for Jackson to realize that while he was seeing his normal memories, they appeared to be playing in reverse, starting with his most recent memories and working backwards.

In no time at all, Jackson had traveled as far back as he could remember through his memories, and his surroundings went dark again. He drifted for what seemed like an eternity, lost in the cold and the dark, hearing only the faint, muffled echoes of distant sounds.

Then, however. something changed: he saw a faint pinpoint of light, in the darkness far ahead of him. Walking towards it, he shifted from a walk to a run, and soon he was barreling headlong through the darkness, but he never seemed to be getting any closer. He could have been running for a minute or a century: in that strange realm of the mind, there was no way to tell.

And then, suddenly, he was there.

The source of the light wasn't what he had expected: it was a vast wall of what looked like cracked glass, stretching off in all directions and radiating a soft blue-white glow. As Jackson approached the glass wall, he saw a silhouette coming towards him, approaching from the other side of the glass. It took him a moment to realize that the glass wall was like a mirror, but it only really clicked when he got a good look at the figure who now stood opposite him… and then his eyes widened and he jerked back in shock.

The figure who stood facing him, on the other side of this strange glass wall… was Jackson himself. At least, that was the way it appeared on first glance, but as he looked more closely, he could see some significant differences. This boy's clothing was different: a dark brown jacket over a powder-blue shirt and brown pants. He carried some kind of wooden staff in one hand, which he twirled leisurely end-over-end, and his hair was a pure, unblemished white, significantly lighter than Jackson's own dirty-blonde hair.

This was the boy from Henry's book, the boy whose face had been the tipping point to trigger Jackson's first real bout of mysterious flashbacks. Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter.

"You…" Jackson breathed. "I don't understand. Are we really the same person? Are Henry and August right?" He took a "step" forward, to the base of the glass wall, and tentatively reached out, placing his hand lightly against the glass. The image of Jack Frost did the same, and their eyes met for a long, thoughtful moment.

That was when the sheet of glass between his hand and Jack's suddenly cracked.

The hell? Jackson took a quick "step" back, and noted that Jack did the same. Their eyes met again, and he saw a sudden flash of emotion in his doppelganger's gaze, before "Jack" focused back on the splintering glass wall between them.

The cracks rapidly grew larger, racing outwards and spreading across the entire glass wall. The portion right in front of Jackson had become so thoroughly cracked that he could barely even see Jack anymore, until finally there was a rumbling noise, a loud crash of glass being smashed apart, and the cracked portion of the glass wall suddenly just crumbled and fell away.

Jack Frost stepped through, his eyes meeting Jackson's with no hesitation. Jackson did the same, slowly reaching out a hand. He wasn't sure how he knew to do this… he just knew, on some level, that this was the right thing to do in this situation.

For another long, silent moment, the two counterparts' eyes met, neither sure how to proceed. But then Jackson's expression hardened, and he nodded. "Okay," he spoke up, his voice quiet and echoing oddly in the silent void around them. "Here we go."

With that, Jackson reached out and took Jack's hand.

And then the world around him dissolved into a multicolored blur of light and sound, and Jack Frost's image vanished as Jackson doubled over and clutched at his head in agony. Countless images and memories flashed across his mind – battles, explosions, wandering journeys, terrifying monsters – and disappeared just as quickly.

But, beyond all of that… he saw the truth. His truth. Who he was, who he had once been, and where he had come from.

"They were right," he whispered, the realization fully sinking in. "Henry, August… they were right.

"It's real. All of it."


And then Jackson Whittemore's eyes snapped open, burning blue… and he smiled.


In the Enchanted Forest, many years ago…

Pitch's scythe clashed with Toothiana's spear, the repeated clangs of metal on metal echoing through the air above the tower. A Nightmare lunged at the fairy's back while she was focused on its master, but she backflipped over it and thrust her spear out, impaling it through the neck. It crumbled into a shower of black sand, and she whirled around just in time to block another swing of the scythe.

"You can't win, Toothiana!" Pitch sneered, pushing harder as he tried to break her guard. "You don't have your friends to back you up this time, and your little servants are nothing compared to my new army!"

He wasn't entirely wrong. Toothiana's diminutive fairy servants were on the defensive, swarming all over the Nightmares but being driven slowly back by the creatures' greater size and strength. Snow and Blue were fighting from the balcony, the former bringing down Nightmare after Nightmare with precisely-aimed arrows while the latter hurled blasts of magic in every direction, but they were barely keeping the attacking waves of monsters at bay. And, worse still, as Toothiana glanced down towards the base of the tower, she was horrified to see that its ground-level entrance had been breached, and a group of Nightmares were pouring inside.

"No!" she gasped. Disengaging from Pitch, she dove towards the entrance in a multicolored blur, but Pitch appeared in her path a moment later, swinging his scythe in a vicious blow that she barely ducked under.

"Nice try!" Pitch laughed, grinning broadly as he glanced over his shoulder to where the Nightmares were pouring into the tower. "Just wait. They'll be starting to feast any moment now, and when they do they'll multiply so quickly that I'll be able to overrun this realm in no time!"

"I won't let that happen!" Toothiana sped forward, her spear blurring as she jabbed at him with lightning speed, but he deflected her strike with his scythe and unleashed a blast of dark energy from his other hand that flipped her backwards.

Pitch smirked, his empty black eyes blazing with a cruel, triumphant glee as he raised his scythe once more. "You don't have a choice," he purred. He prepared to charge after her again –

– and suddenly jerked to a halt, his eyes widening as he turned and looked back down towards the ground-level tower entrance.

Toothiana did the same, her eyes growing wider as well. "What…?" she breathed.

A piercing blue light shone out of the entrance, radiating around the mass of Nightmares who were scrambling into the tower. Then a blast of howling, icy wind erupted from the doorway, accompanied by a wave of crackling blue ice that swept over the creatures, enveloping them, hardening and then shattering, tearing the Nightmares apart. With an explosion of black sand and white ice particles, the whole pack simply exploded.

And then two figures stepped through the doorway. One was Red, armed with her long dagger but hanging back a little with a wide-eyed look of amazement on her face. The other was Frost… but he looked entirely different. He still wore the loose-fitting brown clothes that he'd been sporting before, but now a long blue cloak swirled behind him. The smile on his face wasn't quite the same as Frost's withdrawn, somewhat-shy smile: this smile was warm, cheerful, and relaxed, as if he was having the time of his life even in this dangerous situation. He left icy footprints in his wake, and his blue eyes looked even brighter than before.

While Red didn't seem sure what to make of this change, and Pitch was taken aback, Toothiana immediately knew what had happened, and her face lit up. "…Jack?" she called down to him.

Jack/Frost nodded slowly, his expression becoming less cheery and more thoughtful. "Yes… and no." He took a slow step forward, ice spreading across the ground around him. A nearby Nightmare snarled and lunged at him, but he swayed to one side, easily evading the swipe of its claws, before slamming one end of his staff into the creature's gut and blasting it away with an explosion of ice. It froze solid in midair and shattered into dust as it crashed back down to the ground a few yards away.

"I am Jack, yes," he continued, rising slowly into the air as if the wind itself had simply wrapped around him and lifted him off the ground. "But I'm also Frost. Two lives, two identities, now combined into something new." He looked up at Pitch and chuckled softly. "You thought you were destroying me when you took my memories, Pitch. But all you've really done is to give me a new appreciation for this world and its people." His smile grew and his eyes softened as he glanced down towards Red and up towards where Snow stood on the balcony, before his expression became firmer as his gaze shifted back to Pitch. "I am Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter. And for as long as you continue to prey upon the innocent, I will always be there to stop you."

Pitch scowled, shadows swirling around him as he gripped the hilt of his scythe with white-knuckled hands. "It doesn't matter!" he spat, raising the scythe above his head. "So you've gotten your memories back. So what? I still have more than enough power to finish you all off regardless!" On his signal, the rest of his Nightmare swarm broke away from Toothiana's fairies and spiraled up towards him, hovering behind him in an ominous cloud.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Toothiana spoke up, folding her arms over her chest with a confident smile. As Pitch rounded on her, she nodded up towards the dark sky above the swirling mass of Nightmares, just as it began to flicker and glow with multicolored light. "Because, unfortunately for you, it looks like we were able to hold you off for long enough." Her grin widened as the glowing light coalesced into a swirling, ring-shaped portal. "They're here."

Pitch's eyes widened. "No," he hissed, wheeling around, but he was too late. Even as he sucked in a deep breath to shout further orders to his Nightmares, a large object burst out of the portal and barreled down towards them: some sort of strange flying vehicle that looked like a large sled, painted dark red and pulled through the air by what looked like a group of large deer. Three figures were perched upon the strange flying sled, already drawing their weapons as they plunged into battle.

The first new arrival was an older man with a burly physique and a long white beard, dressed in a red velvet suit with white fur trimmings. He grinned broadly as he drew a pair of long, curved swords, which he wielded with the skill and precision of someone who had been fighting for many years, slashing and hacking effortlessly through the Nightmares while still somehow keeping the flying sled on course.

The second was by far the strangest: he appeared to be a large, humanoid rabbit, as tall as a man. He didn't need to wear much in the way of clothing, since most of his body was covered by dark gray fur, but he did have a pair of bandoliers wrapped around his torso that were lined with daggers and curved wooden throwing sticks. He hurled two of the latter with expert precision, beheading a pair of oncoming Nightmares as the keen wooden blades sliced through their necks, before their flight path actually curved and they spun back towards him, thwacking back into his outstretched hands as he laughed in delight.

The third was a shorter man whose skin, robes and hair were all the same shade of bright, uniform gold. On closer inspection, it became apparent that his robes were actually made of glowing golden sand, rippling in the wind but somehow staying in one piece and not breaking down. He didn't make any sounds, but a small and confident smile formed on his face as he held out his hands and a pair of long, flexible whips materialized in them, crafted from the same luminous golden sand as his robes. He leapt off the sled into the open air, riding the wind as easily as Jack did, his whips cracking and flashing back and forth as he fell upon the disorganized Nightmares.

Jack and Toothiana also leapt into the fray, the latter shouting quick orders for her attendants to fall back and guard the tower. As the smaller fairies did so, Blue used a quick application of her magic to lift Snow gently off the balcony and carry her swiftly down to the ground next to Red; Snow stumbled a little when she touched down, but caught herself a moment later and murmured her thanks to the fairy. "Are you okay?" she spoke up, turning to Red.

Red shrugged, smiling a little nervously. "I think so," she confirmed. "I mean, I've been better, but I think I'm all right. Although Frost came out of his trance just in time: if he hadn't, I would've been in serious trouble."

High above, the three newly-arrived warriors were wreaking havoc among the disoriented Nightmares, tearing through their ranks with ease. Jack and Toothiana, meanwhile, were keeping up the pressure on Pitch, hammering on his defenses with staff and spear to keep him off-balance and unable to support his creations. Some of the Nightmares dove towards them, trying to help Pitch, but Jack made short work of them, blasting them out of the sky with volleys of icy power and swift blows of his staff.

Pitch roared as he hurled himself at Toothiana, scythe whirling; he managed to smack her spear aside, leaving her vulnerable, but a bolt of ice from Jack knocked the dark blade away before Pitch could make a second strike. Jack himself was there a moment later, kicking Pitch in the side and smashing his scythe away with a sweep of his staff, carrying enough force to send the scythe tumbling out of Pitch's hands. It crumbled into a shower of black sand as it tumbled towards the ground, separated from its creator.

"Damn it!" Pitch snarled, rounding on Jack with dark fire blazing in his hands, but a pair of impacts from behind knocked him spinning down towards the earth as a wooden projectile and a golden whip struck him in the back simultaneously. He finally managed to catch himself before reaching the ground, but froze as he realized that the five warriors had now surrounded him. Everywhere he looked – left, right, back, forwards, and up – his escape routes were blocked.

"It's over, Pitch," Jack called out, his staff ready to fire another blast of ice. "You've lost. This realm will never be yours." He smiled, glancing over to his comrades. "Not as long as we're around."

Pitch glared around wildly, like an animal caught in a trap, but he clearly couldn't deny that Jack was right. All of his Nightmares had been destroyed, and he was outnumbered and surrounded. But he still didn't seem entirely defeated.

"A momentary setback," he intoned finally, some of his former confidence returning. "Quite impressive, Jack Frost." He spat out the last two words like a curse. "But if you think this is really over, I assure you, you're wrong." More shadows swirled up around him, shrouding him in darkness. "You have won this battle, Guardians. But we'll meet again… and the war is far from over." With that, the shadows burst out into the air in front of him, forming into a shifting, seething portal… and as the five warriors charged towards him, he dove through it. The portal swirled shut behind him, and he was gone.


In Beacon Hills…

After Jackson had sucked in a deep breath and slipped quietly beneath the water, Scott and Isaac had been trying to decide whether they should attempt to snap him out of the trance or just leave him in peace until the ritual was complete. They could tell that he was still alive, and he wasn't thrashing or trying to rise back up, so they weren't sure which one would be the better option in this case. Isaac hadn't needed to be left completely underwater during his ritual, but Scott, Stiles and Allison had been totally submerged for theirs, and they weren't sure which one was the case this time.

Since they still each had one hand in the water, resting on Jackson's shoulders, Scott and Isaac were both taken aback when an additional chill rippled through the water, sending pained jolts up both of their arms as it suddenly got significantly colder. Letting out startled gasps, they both jerked back, pulling their hands out of the water.

"What the…?" Scott breathed, rubbing his now-aching hand. His eyes widened in alarm a moment later, as the source of the sudden temperature drop made itself known.

The water in Jackson's tub was freezing. Literally freezing: even as they watched, the surface of the tub was visibly icing over, the water temperature dropping so dramatically that the surface froze solid into a thin sheet of ice that covered the entire tub.

Stiles, Lydia and Deaton were also watching this with more than a little alarm. "What the hell is that?" Stiles questioned.

"I…" Deaton's eyes widened. "I don't know. I've never seen this before."

"Well, fix it!" Lydia exclaimed. "He'll drown if it stays frozen over like that!"

Scott and Isaac exchanged a quick glance and then both stepped forward, preparing to smash the ice and pull Jackson out of the tub… but there was no need. At that exact moment, there was a flash of blue light from beneath the ice, and then the sheet of ice that had formed over the top of the tub exploded violently upwards. They both flinched back, shielding their faces from a few flying chunks of ice, while Deaton shielded Stiles and Lydia.

With a roar, Jackson burst up out of the water, his eyes blazing blue and his face fully shifted into his werewolf form, fangs bared and claws extended. In one fluid motion, he leapt out of the tub and landed on the floor, icy water still dripping off of his body, shivering and panting in ragged breaths.

Everyone else flinched back, but Scott mastered his nerves and moved forward. "Uh… Jackson?" he questioned, taking a slow step closer to the other werewolf. "Are you okay?"

Jackson turned, his gaze locking onto Scott. His eyes were wide and unfocused at first, as if he was looking at something else entirely, but after a moment he shook his head and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples as he tried to focus. "Yeah… yeah, I'm okay," he agreed, nodding slowly. "That was… a lot, but… yeah, I think I'm all right."

"So… what happened?" Scott frowned, still feeling a little concerned. "Did you see what you were looking for?"

"…Yeah." After a moment of contemplation, Jackson nodded. "Yeah, I did. I didn't get all of the memories that are buried down there – not even close – but I think I've got enough to go on for now. They're still a little jumbled, and I can't remember everything… but I remember enough." He opened his eyes, his expression hardening and a more focused intensity coming into his gaze as the blue glow faded back to normal. "What matters right now is, we need to get to Storybrooke as fast as possible. Because everyone in that town is in danger… and they need our help."


In Storybrooke…

The doorbell of Mr. Gold's pawn shop chimed as Regina strolled inside, her lips curved in a confident smirk. She strolled up to the counter, where Gold himself was writing in a ledger: his eyes flicked up as she approached, taking her in without saying anything.

Regina didn't bother mincing words. "I hope you bought travel insurance," she warned. "Because no one's going anywhere."

Gold arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he deadpanned. "And why's that?"

Regina smiled coldly. "Because I've found a solution to my Emma Swan problem. An old, reliable solution."

Gold's eyes widened slightly in realization. "A sleeping curse," he murmured. "Might I ask how you managed to obtain one here in Storybrooke?"

Regina said nothing for a moment, remembering just what it had cost her to acquire the enchanted apple from their old world. "By sacrificing the last bit of magic I had left," she replied finally.

"So you made magic… from magic?" Gold chuckled softly. "Well, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that all magic comes with a price."

Regina's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward, resting her hands on the counter. "Then you can pay it," she shot back. "Because now, the curse is going to be stronger than ever, and you will be right here where you belong."

"And you're sure about that?" Gold quirked an eyebrow and smirked faintly as he strolled over to another counter. "You haven't exactly been on top of everything lately, Regina. We still have no idea how Jack Frost has somehow ended up in this town, and Miss Swan found her way here and has been constantly sabotaging your grand plan without even realizing it, despite all your efforts to keep control." He sighed and shook his head, his smile never leaving his lips. "So I wouldn't be so sure that this new scheme of yours will work out the way you think, dearie."

"Oh, please." Regina scoffed. "Nice try, Gold, but I've got everything under control again. Emma's already taken the bait, and as soon as she takes one bite of my little surprise – which she will – she'll be out of my way forever. As for Frost, it's clear that he's forgotten himself just as much as everyone else in this town has, which means he's no threat to me either." She laughed. "Don't you understand? I've already won. So whatever plan you had, whatever reason you wanted the curse broken… too bad. Because it's never going to happen." She turned on her heel and strode out of the pawn shop, idly spinning a nearby globe on her way to the door.


In the Enchanted Forest, many years ago…

With Pitch gone, the group reconvened back in the throne room of the Rainbow Tower. Toothiana's fairy attendants had returned to the tower interior to treat their wounded and check on her vaults to ensure that no Nightmares had managed to gain access to the caverns beneath the tower. Blue was also helping to treat the injured fairies, while Snow and Red were in the throne room with the five Guardians.

"Is so good to see you, Jack!" The heavyset man in red guffawed and folded Jack in a bear-hug, clapping him on the back and laughing loudly. "We were so worried about you! Thought you might have been killed, so I am very glad to see you alive and healthy." His voice was heavily accented, one that Snow and Red had never heard before.

"Good to see you, mate," the humanoid rabbit seconded, patting Jack on one shoulder. His voice also carried an unfamiliar accent, albeit a completely different one. "Glad you're safe."

For his part, the golden man said nothing, but he smiled warmly and gave Jack a hug of his own.

"So… these are the other Guardians?" Red murmured quietly to Snow.

"I suppose so," Snow agreed, shrugging. She hadn't seen any of these three in person before, of course, but something about them seemed strangely familiar, as if she'd been told stories about them as a child.

"Indeed they are," Jack called over to Snow and Red with a cheerful smile, indicating the trio of new arrivals with a wave of his hand. "Allow me to introduce North, Aster, and Sand, the other members of the Guardians." He indicated the man in red, the rabbit, and the golden man as he named each of them in turn, before nodding over to them. "And these are Snow White and Red Riding Hood. They've both saved my life, and I owe them everything: I never would've made it this far if it wasn't for them." He smiled warmly as he focused on Snow and Red.

"Lovely to meet you, ladies," North rumbled, sweeping back his long coat and bowing to Snow and Red with surprising grace. "Nicholas St. North, at your service. Please, call me North: most do."

"E. Aster Bunnymund," Aster introduced himself as well, nodding to them and tossing off a casual salute. "Pleasure to meetcha."

The golden man, Sand, inclined his head with a smile. While he still didn't speak, everyone in the room suddenly heard a soft voice echoing in their heads. Greetings, Snow White and Red Riding Hood. It's very nice to meet you both. Thank you for helping Jack; I'm sure he would have been lost without you.

"Hey!" Jack snorted, playfully ruffling Sand's hair, before his expression softened and he smiled as he looked over to Snow and Red. "But honestly… yeah, I'm pretty sure I would have." His eyes met Red's, and his cheeks flushed faintly as his smile grew a little wider.

"So… where do we go from here?" Snow spoke up after a moment. "Frost… uh, sorry, Jack… what're you going to do now?"

"Oh, don't worry about the name thing," Jack chuckled as he walked over to them. "You can call me Jack or Frost, either's fine. Like I told Pitch, I'm both of those now, so I'm comfortable with either name." He grinned. "I think I'm gonna stick with that combined name, actually. 'Jack Frost' seems like it's got a pretty good ring to it. And for what I'm going to do…" He glanced over his shoulder to the five wooden thrones, and his expression became a little more somber. "Well, I do have duties as a Guardian that I'll have to attend to now that I've got my memories back, and if Pitch pops up again somewhere else or another threat like him emerges, then I'll have to help deal with it. That's what we do."

Snow nodded understandingly. "Yes, of course," she agreed. "That makes sense." She couldn't help but feel disappointed by that news, however, and a glance at Red showed that the other girl clearly felt the same way. The three of them had been traveling together for long enough that the idea of losing one of them was saddening for the others.

"But," Jack added as his smile returned, "they won't need my help all the time." He shrugged and laughed softly as he nodded to the other Guardians. "I was always more of a freelancer than you guys anyway, even before all of this."

"Oh, trust me, mate, we're well aware of that," Aster replied dryly, a playful smirk appearing on his face. North and Toothiana chuckled as well, while Sand's lips curved in an amused smile.

"So," Jack continued as he turned back to face Snow and Red, "since I haven't got a hobby like the others that takes up most of my free time… I'd definitely be willing to keep traveling with you guys." He shrugged, his smile flickering a bit. "I mean… as long as you'd still like that, of course."

Snow and Red exchanged a brief glance, before they both laughed and embraced Jack, pulling him into a group hug. "Of course we would!" Snow exclaimed, smiling a little tearfully as she hugged him tightly. "You're one of the best friends I've ever had, Jack; I'd never want to send you away."

Red nodded in agreement as the hug broke up. "She's right," she added, smiling at him. "I feel the same way. I wouldn't, ah…" She blushed faintly, before reaching out and tentatively taking one of his hands in hers. "I wouldn't want to lose you either."

Jack returned her smile, taking her hand and holding it gently. He looked up towards the huge, glowing map of the Enchanted Forest, taking it in and smiling as he felt Red's fingers lace through his.

Whoever I am now, whoever I may become in the future, he thought to himself, there's one thing that's never gonna change. As long as there are monsters like Pitch out there, preying on the innocent and threatening the people I care about… I will always be there to stop them.

No matter what.


In Beacon Hills…

Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Isaac walked quickly through the woods of the Beacon Hills Preserve, hurrying after Jackson. The blue-eyed werewolf led the way with a swift, determined stride, as if he knew exactly where he was going. He wasn't entirely sure how he knew, or even where he was going, but it was like there was a compass in his mind telling him exactly where to go.

"Does anybody have any idea what the hell we're doing?" Lydia demanded, stepping carefully over a series of tree roots. "Why are we out here?!"

"Don't ask me," Stiles replied with a shrug, adjusting his backpack and letting out a muffled curse as he stumbled over a root. "This one's on him."

The four of them were all justifiably confused and concerned by Jackson's behavior. After waking up from his trance and briefly explaining what he had seen, he'd dried himself off and changed into fresh clothes, before thanking Deaton for his help and leading the others out to his rental car. Instead of heading out towards San Francisco, however, he had driven straight to the preserve, claiming that he "needed to check something out before we go." Leaving his car in the parking lot, he'd promptly grabbed his backpack out of the trunk, advised the others to do the same, and led the way into the woods, leaving them rushing to keep up.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Isaac put in. Like Scott, he wasn't having any difficulty navigating the moonlit preserve thanks to their heightened night vision, but he still didn't look happy about the current situation.

"Nope," Stiles deadpanned. "I mean, c'mon, guys: he just took a two-hour-long ice bath and had his brain scrambled with a bunch of magic herbs. I feel like we really shouldn't be wandering all the way out here right after all of that."

"Relax, Stiles," Jackson called back to them, barely breaking stride. His voice seemed a little more relaxed now, as if the cool night air and the many different scents of the forest were helping to clear his head. "When I know where I'm going, I'll tell you. Right now, I just…" He shrugged. "I just feel something out here. I'm not sure what it is, but it feels… important, somehow. Like it's calling to me."

"Oh, great," Stiles muttered, rolling his eyes and glancing over his shoulder at the shadowy forest around them. "Well, that makes me feel much better."

Scott, for his part, was looking around at their surroundings with a contemplative frown. "Uh… guys?" he spoke up, glancing over to the others. "Is it just me, or… does this area look familiar?" He spread his arms, indicating their surroundings.

Lydia shrugged, not noticing anything strange, but both Stiles and Isaac frowned as they looked around. "Now that you mention it… yeah, this does look familiar," Isaac commented thoughtfully.

A moment later, they realized why it looked familiar. Following Jackson through a final cluster of trees, the group emerged into a large open clearing… and then they all stopped in their tracks.

Looming before them, occupying the center of the clearing, was a giant tree stump, worn and weathered by its own immense age. It was unmistakably the Nemeton, the remains of an enormous tree that had been imbued with powerful magic. Several months earlier, Jennifer Blake had kept her last batch of chosen sacrificial victims here: Melissa McCall, Sheriff Stilinski, and Chris Argent. Stiles, Isaac and Allison had managed to rescue them, and nobody from the pack had been back to the Nemeton since then. Deaton had warned them that the ritual they'd performed to locate the Nemeton would also partially restore its power, reigniting a mystical "beacon" that would draw other supernatural creatures back to Beacon Hills.

The question on all four of their minds in that moment, however, was: how had Jackson known where it was?

Jackson, meanwhile, was standing before the Nemeton stump, gazing fixedly at it. "This is it," he breathed, nodding slowly. "This is what I need."

"Uh… Jackson?" Stiles frowned. "Care to share with the class? What're we doing here?"

"And how did you know where this place was?" Scott added curiously. "I told you about the Nemeton, but I never told you where it was."

Jackson blinked, turning back to Scott with a brief look of surprise. "Wait, this is the Nemeton?" he questioned, indicating the tree stump. When Scott nodded in confirmation, he laughed softly. "Well, that makes sense, then! Sorry: I probably should've explained what I was doing."

"That would've been nice, yes," Lydia remarked dryly, smirking a little when she saw the embarrassed grin appear on Jackson's face.

"Yeah, sorry," Jackson replied with a sheepish chuckle. "Basically, I was planning to head straight off to the airport, but then I sensed something that I needed to check out." He nodded to the Nemeton. "Makes sense that it was this, after what you guys told me about it. Basically, thanks to some of those memories that I've tapped into…" He winced, rubbing his temples as another flash of previously-dormant memories welled up in his mind. "…I was able to figure out a better way to get us there."

Scott frowned, exchanging perplexed glances with the others. "Ah… Sorry, Jackson, I don't really understand. What do you mean?"

"Just… gimme a second, and I'll show you." Jackson turned and scanned the clearing, muttering something under his breath. "Okay, first… let's see, just need a good one… there!" Grinning, he hurried across the clearing, crouched down by the nearest tree, and picked up a long, fallen branch that had been lying at its base. "Perfect."

"Am I the only one who thinks he might've just lost it?" Stiles whispered to the others. Lydia rolled her eyes and elbowed him lightly in the side, while Isaac suppressed a quiet snort and Scott remained focused on Jackson, the concerned look in his eyes a little stronger now.

"What's that for?" he inquired.

"You'll see in a minute," Jackson replied as he walked back over to the Nemeton stump, trimming the large branch with his claws and snapping off any smaller twigs that jutted out from it. Looking over at Scott, he grinned, more of his old confidence returning. "Relax, McCall. I'm not crazy, I swear. This'll make a lot more sense in a couple of minutes."

Nodding slowly, Scott watched as Jackson approached the Nemeton and stood beside it, gently resting one hand on its surface as he held the branch with the other.

"Okay," Jackson whispered, his eyes half-closed and flickering blue as he readied himself. "C'mon, Jackson… you can do this." Most of his memories hadn't returned yet, but he could remember enough that he instinctively knew how to do this. The only problem would be that he was nowhere near his old self in terms of power, but when he'd sensed the energy radiating from this place, he'd known that it was exactly what he needed.

Placing the branch on the Nemeton's surface, Jackson placed both hands on it and closed his eyes, focusing intently. In his mind's eye, he saw the image of another wooden object: the staff that his former self had carried for so many years. That staff was long-gone, destroyed or lost forever, but he knew it wasn't irreplaceable; he'd regained enough memories to know that he'd had a couple of different staffs over the years, and he instinctively remembered how to make a new one.

A low growl echoed in Jackson's throat, and a cold gust of wind suddenly swirled through the clearing. His hands, and the branch they held, suddenly began to glow with a soft blue light, radiating out through the clearing. Stiles inhaled sharply and choked back the next comment he'd been tempted to make, and four pairs of eyes widened in shock as he, Scott, Lydia and Isaac watched in amazement and disbelief.

The air temperature around Jackson dropped further, but he didn't take any notice. A faint, shimmering wave of ice rippled out from his hands and flowed out along the length of the branch, the glow brightening as it went. The branch itself began to change shape, warping and distorting as if it was being whittled by the unseen hands of an invisible craftsman.

Finally, the light pulsed outwards in a brilliant flash that dazzled the four onlookers. When their eyes adjusted again, the glowing light had faded, and only the light of the moon and the flashlights that Stiles and Lydia were carrying illuminated the clearing.

Jackson turned away from the Nemeton, smiling and nodding in satisfaction. The branch was still in his hands, but now it had been transformed into a smooth wooden staff, curved at one end almost like a shepherd's crook.

"No way…" Stiles breathed, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Jackson chuckled softly. "Sorry about that. Now that I've got this ready…" He turned his attention back to the Nemeton, climbing up onto the tree stump and stepping over to its center. "C'mere for a second, okay, guys?"

With a bit of hesitance, the others all approached the tree stump, standing a few feet away. "What're you doing now?" Scott questioned.

"Well, there's a useful little trick that I used to know," Jackson murmured, turning his staff over in his hands as he pinpointed the exact center of the tree stump. "I haven't done it in quite a while, but if I can get it working properly… it should take us exactly where we need to go." He positioned the staff in his hands so that its lower end pointed straight down. "Luckily, it's pretty simple if you know what you're doing, but it's been a while so I might be a little rusty. So… it might work, or it might not." He grinned a little nervously, his eyes glowing blue as the staff in his hands began glowing faintly as well. "Everybody stand still, okay?"

"Uh… quick question," Stiles spoke up as Jackson's eyes narrowed in concentration, a cold wind swirling up around them again. "So, if this works, it's gonna somehow take us to that town you were talking about?"

"Yup," Jackson confirmed, nodding as his eyes narrowed to slits and his face took on an expression of intense focus.

"Right." Stiles nodded. "So… what happens if it doesn't work?"

"One of two things," Jackson replied with a shrug. "One, nothing happens and we'll just have to go fly there the way we were originally planning. Or two…" He winced a little, closing his eyes and gripping his staff tighter. "We could end up in a different place. Or in several different places, if things go really wrong."

Stiles's eyes widened, and he exchanged alarmed looks with Scott, Lydia, and Isaac. "Uh, Jackson?" Lydia took a step forward, raising one hand as the wind around them grew stronger. "Maybe you shouldn't –"

"Got it!" Jackson's eyes snapped open, burning blue, and he slammed the staff down onto the center of the Nemeton.

A moment later, another brilliant flash of light illuminated the clearing, and a cloud of blue smoke poured from the point where the staff had met the tree stump, swirling outwards and enveloping all five teenagers. The glow grew brighter, and the others started backing away, but it was too late.

"Jackson, wait!" Scott yelled, but his call wasn't quick enough. Another flash of light erupted from the Nemeton, this one the brightest one yet…

And then, with a sickening lurch, the ground dropped away beneath their feet, and all five teens fell into darkness.

An instant later, the flash of light dissipated, taking the blue smoke with it… and the Nemeton clearing was empty, dark, and silent once again.


In Storybrooke…

Emma sat on Mary Margaret's couch, thinking things over. She wasn't entirely sure that she'd made the right decision by striking a deal with Regina – not least because she knew Henry wasn't going to be happy about it – but ultimately she thought she'd made the best call that she could under the circumstances. One loose end that she was still going to have to address at some point was Jackson, since he obviously wouldn't need to help her out at the sheriff's station anymore if she was leaving town, but she'd get to that later. He wasn't due back in town for a few more days anyway, so she had plenty of time to call him and update him on the situation.

In the meantime, she thought to herself as the doorbell rang, she had something much harder to deal with first.

"Hey, Emma!" Henry greeted her as she opened the door. He frowned and looked up at her curiously when he saw the look on her face. "Is everything okay? You sounded strange over the walkie."

"Oh, um… I'm okay." Emma sighed. "I just… yesterday, when I tried to take you away, you were right. I can't take you out of Storybrooke. But…" She closed her eyes for a moment. "I can't stay here, either."

Henry's eyes widened. "What?"

Emma nodded slowly. "I… Henry, I have to go."

"Go? You… you mean, leave Storybrooke?" Henry froze, his eyes wide in horror and dismay.

"I talked to Regina, and we made a deal," Emma explained quietly. "I'm still gonna be able to see you, just… not every day."

"No!" Henry shook his head. "You don't understand: you can't trust her!"

"I have to!" Emma insisted. "It's my only choice. It's what's best for you, Henry: every time I fight her, someone else gets hurt, and I'm not gonna let that be you."

"No," Henry returned, shaking his head firmly. "You're just scared! That's okay, it happens to all heroes: it's just the low moment before you fight back!"

"Henry!" Emma sank to her knees, locking eyes with him. "This isn't a story! This is reality! And from now on, some things are going to have to change. You can't skip school, you can't run away, and…" She closed her eyes for a second, sighing as she remembered her confrontation with August a couple of days earlier, before forcing herself to continue. "And… you can't believe in curses."

Henry stared at her for a long moment, the horror in his eyes slowly shifting into pained realization. "You really don't believe, do you?" he murmured.

"I…" Emma sighed, shaking her head as she rose back up to her feet. "I'm sorry, Henry, but this is just how it has to be, at least for right now." Maybe in a few years, once Henry was old enough to put all of this stuff behind him, she could try for custody, but right now it wasn't going to work. "I made a deal," she continued. "And I used my superpower. She's telling the truth: she loves you, and she's going to take really good care of you."

"I know she is!" Henry retorted. "I know she'd never hurt me. But she would hurt you. She wants you dead!"

"Oh, come on!" Emma groaned and rubbed her eyes. "She wants me to leave, yes, but do you seriously think that she actually wants to kill me?"

"Yes!" Henry insisted. "Because you're the only one who can stop her!"

"Stop her from doing what?" Emma shook her head. "All she's ever done is fight for you. It just… it's gotten out of hand." She rested her hands lightly on Henry's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

Henry's eyes welled up with tears, and he stepped in close, hugging her tightly around the waist. Emma hugged him back, feeling tears in her eyes too. Inwardly, however, she felt a little better. This might not seem like it right now, but it was good. Maybe Henry could finally accept the reality of the situation, and then…

"Where did you get that?"

Henry's voice drew her attention back down to him. He was staring, wide-eyed, at the turnover that Regina had given her as a peace offering, which was still resting on the table where she'd left it.

Emma frowned. "Regina gave it to me," she answered. "Why? You want some?"

Henry didn't say anything: instead, he slowly pulled away from her arms and walked over to the table. He looked down at the turnover for a second, and then inhaled sharply and whipped around to stare at her with a look of utter horror on his face, as if the turnover had just turned into a giant spider. "Apple," he breathed.

Emma blinked. "So?"

"You can't eat that." Henry shook his head, looking up at her plaintively. "It's poison."

"What?"

"Don't you see?" Henry's eyes widened. "That 'deal' she agreed to? It's just a trick. All she really wanted was to get you to eat that!" He pointed at the turnover. "So she can get rid of the Savior!"

Emma's eyes closed tightly for a second, and another sigh escaped from her lips. "Henry, come on. Why would she do that, when I just told her I was leaving town?"

"Because getting you out of town isn't enough for her," Henry replied flatly. "If you left, you could just come back again. And from what you told me, you would keep coming back again, to visit me. She wouldn't risk that. Because whether you're in Storybrooke or not, as long as you're alive, you're a threat to her. To her curse."

Okay. That's enough. Emma's expression firmed. "Henry? You need to stop thinking like this."

"No!" Henry shot back. "Because it's the truth. And you leaving won't change that."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Henry, that's enough. That turnover is not poisoned! Here, I'll prove it to you, all right?" She leaned over the table, reaching for the turnover, but Henry snatched it before she could.

"No!" he insisted, taking a few steps back. "You can't eat this." He looked at the turnover for a second, emotions churning on his face.

"Henry?" Emma frowned, taking a step towards him. "What're you doing?"

Henry looked up, meeting her eyes, and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry it had to come to this," he murmured quietly. "You might not believe in the curse, or in me. But I believe in you." With that, he bit into the turnover, tearing off a piece, and looked back up at her as he chewed and swallowed.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other… but nothing happened. Finally, Emma shook her head. "See?" She turned and started over towards the kitchen. "You wanna have some ice cream with that?" she called over her shoulder. "Then we can get back to talking about –"

The soft impact of a body hitting the floor stopped Emma dead in her tracks. She whipped around, her eyes widening in horror as she saw Henry collapsed on the floor, sprawled on his back, his eyes closed. The apple turnover was still held loosely in one of his hands.

"Henry?" Emma wasn't entirely aware of herself crossing the room, until she was crouched beside her son, staring down at him with wide eyes as she felt a rising tide of panic surging up within her. "Henry? Henry?!"


On the other side of town, Ruby stood in the doorway of Granny's Diner, looking up at the moon. She'd gotten a couple of texts from Jackson since he'd left town, but nothing that day, except for one message that morning informing her that he'd be heading back to Storybrooke in the next couple of days. She hadn't heard anything from him since then, but the knowledge that he'd be back soon was helping.

Things around the inn hadn't been very eventful, except for that strange incident with another new out-of-towner showing up at the diner. The odd British guy hadn't shown up again since that first incident, but something about him had made her distinctly uneasy, and she personally hoped that he really had just been passing through and wouldn't be back anytime soon.

After flipping the diner's sign to Closed and stepping outside, she locked the door behind her and headed back around the side of the diner towards the inn. She hadn't been entirely comfortable walking down this alley ever since she'd found Kathryn Nolan's unconscious body lying here, but it was the quickest way back to the inn from the front of the diner.

As Ruby came out of the alley and started towards the inn, something brought her up short. The inn was just a short walk up ahead, but it was on the other side of the open parking lot, and some instinct inside her was warning her that she would be totally exposed if she went that way. It didn't make any sense, of course: she always took that route back to the inn after closing, and nothing bad had ever happened. So why would she feel so nervous about it right now?

"Screw it," Ruby muttered after a long moment of indecision. She started forwards, swiftly crossing the parking lot towards the inn… but she was only halfway across when she heard something: the softest scuffing noise of footsteps, of boots scraping against asphalt.

Coming from right behind her.

Ruby whirled, throwing an instinctive elbow back in the direction of whoever was coming up behind her… but it hit nothing. There was no one there.

What the…? Ruby looked around, but sure enough, the parking lot behind her appeared to be entirely empty. "Okay…" she murmured, shaking her head as she took a couple of backwards steps in the direction of the inn. She turned back around –

– and froze in place, her mouth hanging open and her eyes widening in alarm as she sucked in a startled gasp.

He was standing just a couple of paces in front of her, cutting off her path to the inn. The man from the diner a couple of days earlier, the man in black. But something about him was different, unnatural, inhuman. His eyes were gleaming red in the light of the parking lot, practically glowing, and his fingernails were long and pointed, almost like claws.

"Good evening, my dear," he greeted her, his smile widening to reveal that his teeth had become unnaturally sharp, the canines elongated into fangs. "I have a proposition for you."

Ruby's body finally caught up with her mind. To her credit, she didn't waste any time screaming: instead, she immediately whirled around and took off running. Despite her quick reactions, however, she only made it about three steps before she felt a sudden impact to the back of her head, and then everything went black.


Notes: And there we go! Definitely the longest chapter I've written for this story, but it all felt necessary to tell this part of the story properly, and I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Regarding the flashbacks: yes, that's how Jack Frost got his full name in this 'verse. To clarify, in case anybody's confused, the original version of him (the boy who died saving his sister and was resurrected as a nature spirit by the spirit of the Moon) only used the name "Jack" up until Pitch attacked him and erased his memories. He then took the name "Frost" after he woke up with amnesia and met Snow, and then combined those two names after he got his memories back to form his full name, "Jack Frost."

Now, of course, that leaves the question: how did Jack Frost lose his memories again, become Jackson Whittemore, and find himself in Beacon Hills? The answer to that will be revealed over the course of the next two chapters, where I'll be putting the final pieces of that puzzle together, so I hope you guys will enjoy that!

Shoutout to willdawg992003 for reviewing: you're awesome. :)

Only two chapters remain in this story, and I'm really looking forward to them! Next time, the Beacon Hills pack arrives in Storybrooke while Emma confronts Regina, and in a flashback, we find out how Jack Frost and the Guardians were affected by the Dark Curse.

Stay tuned!