Get the missing pages. Get the chisel. Get anything that could be of importance. That's the gist of Snow's plan as they all loom over the table, staring at a hand-drawn map of the Underworld.

"We don't have much of an arsenal," Regina warns, although she sounds more worried than skeptical that none of this will work.

"We don't need much of an arsenal. We need the right arsenal." Snow looks over at Belle. "That's where you come in. You know the library better than anyone. We need anything you find that you think will be helpful, anything that can overpower a god, or just weaken one. What do we know about Hades so far?" She pauses. "That's not rhetorical."

"The only thing that seems to weaken him is hope," Killian offers up, fighting off a shudder as he remembers his time in Hades' clutches. "He didn't view my being here as an all-out war until all of you started giving others hope. That, and..." Swallowing, he keeps his eyes on the map. "When Liam crossed over, that...that seemed to frighten him. He didn't retaliate, simply...left."

"Dracula shrinking away from a cross," Henry mutters.

"Unfortunately, no one's crossed over since Liam," Snow says, giving Killian a sympathetic look. "So we're just going to have to work with what we've got."

"What about a diversion?" David suggests. "Someone can distract Hades while the rest of us search his lair."

"I'd agree with that except that we need everyone for this." It's quite assertive, and he'd expect no less from a bandit princess, but the corner of his mouth turns up at Snow mouthing "sorry" to her husband and squeezing his hand.

"Then we need to make sure we have a claim on the library," David says. While he'd hardly looked deflated from his first idea being rejected, Snow's touch nevertheless rejuvenates him. Turning the map so the library is closer to him, he traces a path with his finger. "We need everyone in the lair, but we need to split the magic now. Emma, you and Hook can cover Belle and Henry so they can get into the library."

"Regina, you'll need to be with them," Snow adds. "While they research, you'll have to start working on a way to break whatever spells Hades might have on the elevator."

"But-" Regina starts.

"David and I can get Robin's provisions to him," Snow says, a little softer. "We've spent a lot more time in the woods than you have. We can get in and out quicker. That, and we know exactly where to find formula, don't we?" She smiles at David, the two of them recalling probably a slew of images of feeding Neal.

"Actually..."

They all stare at Belle, and for a moment, she looks ready to divulge a secret of some kind, her face flushed and bottom lip trembling. Looking over at Emma, who gives her a reassuring nod, Belle inhales.

"I-I can write down where I think you should get started, but I won't be joining you." Reaching around them for a pen and paper, she jots down what would look like random, ordinary numbers, except Killian's haunted the library enough times with her to recognize "call numbers" when he sees them. She gives the slip of paper to Henry. "Rumple's here, and there are...there are things we need to at least try to do together while we're here. We need to be our own team for now."

"Stay safe then," Snow says, hugging Belle and walking her to the door. The second the door shuts behind Belle on her way out, Snow slings her quiver over her shoulder and picks up her bow. Mother and daughter lock eyes, allowing Snow to merely gesture for Emma to grab her coat.

"Rooftop may be the best place to see if anything is coming our way. We'll flash the lights when we're ready," Snow murmurs to her, and then scans the apartment, taking in the rest of them. "Let's do this."


"What's wrong with Belle?" he asks her. Not that it is any of his business...but she's his friend, so it most certainly is his business...if she would want him to be involved, which she didn't because she didn't confide in him...but perhaps there was a reason for that...navigating friendship proves more difficult than navigating any ocean. Helping Swan hoist herself up onto the ladder on the side of the library, he lets her climb up a few rungs before starting the ascent himself.

"I had to apologize for not telling her about Gold right away," she calls down to him in a hushed voice.

"We should have made a case for her to stay with us and leave him to his own devices." Of course the bloody Crocodile wouldn't tell his wife about hoarding all that power he had been cleansed of before. Killian's a mite grateful to be rid of the magic, personally, although if he did have some residual powers left, transporting the two of them to the roof without needing to climb would be appreciated...

"Well, she said she didn't care if I told you or not—that she just wanted to keep it kind of under wraps—but she and Gold do have something to work out."

"Oh, aye, I'm sure they do, but what's taken priority over all the other things they need to work out in that shamble of a marriage of theirs?" He locks out his arms and leans away from the ladder, taking in the view of her above him. She twists and rests her elbow on one of the rungs, smirking at him.

"Ready to start eating your words?" she challenges.

"Always."

"She's pregnant."

Poor Belle. His hook slides along the run as his fingers drum the side of the ladder, part of him wanting to leap down and force Belle to come back with them. Quite the tragic set of circumstances when being part of motley crew hell-bent on taking down a god is a safer position to be in than Belle's current predicament.

"You're sure she was fine with you telling me?"

Swan hurries up to the top of the roof and adjusts her coat, pulling down the hood. Waiting for him, she folds her arms.

"If I were her, I'd be doing the same thing," she says. "We're not going to leave her down here. Promise."

It's when she looks right into him that he notices the red in her eyes, the skin underneath a bit sunken. She's pale and matted with sweat—not a healthy combination. His hook starts freeing her hair out of the coat before he makes the conscious decision to, wishing he could see her under a welcoming blue sky instead of the hazy red of the Underworld. She's had no time to feel truly free of the Darkness, has resorted to blackmail, and now has to be prepared at a moment's notice to use her magic against an unseen threat, while their friends just seem to be running into one insurmountable hardship after another.

"I'll watch over the road," he says. "If you sit there against the bricks, you can keep an eye on the ally."

Oh, she always knows what he's up to. She wouldn't be Emma Swan otherwise. Angling her head at him, she gives him her "did you really just say that" look with a small, crooked smile.

"So I get to sit and nod off while you do the hard work?"

Mirroring her incredulity, he scoffs.

"What? Wanting you to rest and have some energy when the time comes to use your magic? Me?"

She huffs out a silent laugh and nods in mock-deference...or perhaps just reluctant deference.

"I'll sit down and take it easy for a second, but don't expect me to sleep."


Out like a light. Pacing a little in order to watch as much of the road as he can, he steals a glance or two at how she's dropped her head back against the wall with her hands limp in her lap. She's only been asleep for about fifteen minutes or so, but Killian hopes that it will turn into at least twice that. The notion that Hades, if he caught wind of their plan, would stroll down the street like a mere mortal with his own plan being to burst through the library doors with a booming, "What's going on here?" sounds more and more ridiculous. However, two things keep him from climbing down and suggesting to the others they form a new strategy: the Underworld is full of embittered souls who could hold grudges against any one of them, and Emma's sleeping.

"Oh!" she gasps, trying to stifle herself as she jolts awake. Ragged breaths and a confused expression take her over for just a second.

"Bad dream?"

"Yeah." Standing, she makes her way over to him. "It was nothing. Sorry I fell asleep."

"Nothing" is always something when it comes to her, but, frankly, he'd be surprised if she wasn't having nightmares at this point. It's more that she is driving herself to exhaustion.

"I'm glad you did," he says.

"It's not the best way to keep watch." She snaps her eyes in the direction of the street and scans it, as if he hasn't been doing that this entire time.

"I've got it under control. Do you realize this is the first time you've slept since you rescued me?" And probably even longer, but bringing up the sleeplessness of being a Dark One won't be more comforting.

"I'll sleep for weeks as soon as we defeat Hades, I promise."

When they're home. When they'll both be alive, hearts literally beating as one, when they'll decide whether or not they'll stay in that house they'd both longed for and loathed at the same time. When they can start a future. When they can finally move on to the next step of their relationship. Whatever that is.

He should propose to her. Now's as good a time as any, he tries to tell himself, reminding himself that every time there is a lull, some new disaster will require their attention anyway. But this is an offensive operation, she's sleep-deprived, and he's dead, so...some times are better than others, and this isn't one..

A light flashes beneath them from the library's front doors.

"That's the signal. They're ready," she says, almost breaking into a run on her to the ladder. Keeping in the shadows, they tiptoe to the front door of the library with their backs against the exterior. Hesitating at the sight of a silhouette in the doorway, he exhales when he realizes it's Snow.

"Mom." Swan leans forward and wraps her arms around her.

"Oh! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's just good to see you," she murmurs, closing her eyes and savoring the embrace.

"When you're done hugging it out, Emma, I can use a little help here," Regina calls to them from a stepladder. She's scratching chalk lines into the elevator frame, covering it in odd hieroglyphs an runic symbols. Killian's sure each one possesses some degree of magical clout, but it does seem a little unbalanced—the two of them standing guard out in the cold while Regina gets to scribble.

"So this is what you've been working on all night? This is our new plan to defeat Hades and go home. A bunch of squiggly lines?" Gods, one would think light magic would look impressive more than it does...

"Hades put one hell of a protection spell on his elevator, and these 'squiggly lines' are the only way to crack it open," Regina justifies as Swan takes her position next to her.

"Then hopefully that elevator will take us straight to him," Snow says.

Wait. Wait...the plan is to confront Hades? Not steal from him or find a weakness, but all-out attack him?

"Maybe with surprise on our side, we can get a shot at him," David says.

"That's a lot of 'maybes' and 'hopefullys,'" he grunts. So, they will all go down in the loud, rickety elevator, charge at a deity with "guns blazing" and just hope he can't reduce them all to ash at the same time. Brilliant. Ingenious. So glad they'd spent most of the night formulating that.

"It's all we have right now," Swan reminds him. That may be true, but it doesn't inspire much confidence. "Okay. Let's do this."

She and Regina hold out their hands, tensing their arms, and begin turning the cogs and gears of the elevator door. The symbols glow as the grinding sound grows louder. Their fingers convulse. He doesn't need to see their faces to know how much they're having to strain to overpower Hades' spell. If Swan and Regina together can't even open the door without breaking a sweat, what the bloody hell had made her parents think they could ambush him?

At last, the door slides back, only to reveal a brick wall. Fitting.

"So much for surprising him," David sighs.

"We'll think of something else. We always do," Snow reminds them.

"What if..." Swan wonders aloud. She whips around and faces everyone. "What if I could burn our names off the gravestones that Hades made for us, the ones holding us here?"

"I looked for a spell like that. It doesn't exist," Regina says with her hands on her hips. Well, she would be the authority on the matter, at least in comparison to himself, he thinks, but...if they could do that, that would solve at least one problem.

"Actually, it does," Swan argues while blinking a few times, her gaze on them not as intent. "It kind of came to me in a dream."

The dream you just had that left you shaking when you awoke, he almost wishes he could counter, but not in front of everyone. She wouldn't propose such a long shot if her dream had shown it failing. Something else must have frightened her.

"In a dream?" David asks.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I can remember every detail. It would be a long shot, but..."

But great minds think alike, he thinks to himself, beaming at her.

"Well, as for 'maybes' and 'hopefullys,' I've learned never to question yours. I'm coming with you."

"Snow and I will take Henry back to the apartment, keep him safe," David says, nodding.

"No, actually, I'm going to go with Emma," Snow says.

"No!" Swan nearly shouts. "No, that's not a good idea."

"I promised to take down Hades and get back to our son, remember? If this is how we do it, I'm in."

"Emma, I wouldn't argue with your mother," David warns, grinning over at Snow while he nods for Henry to follow him. "Trust me."

"Get going, and I'll...I'll meet you at the cemetery. First, I should talk to my sister," Regina mutters more to herself than to them, reaching for her coat in an absent-minded way, her thoughts running away with her. "Apparently, she has some history with Hades."

"You think she'll talk to you?" Swan asks.

"I don't know. But if he does have a weakness, she might be the only person who knows what it is," Regina reminds them on her way out.


He dislikes this cemetery more than any other. Even in the oldest, most foreboding ones, the headstones offer some kind of comfort—an angel, sometimes, stone-faced, but dependable and vigilant. Others have epitaphs reminding others how loved the person was in life, a beloved grandfather or grandmother, husband, wife, father, mother... Religious texts give hope that the person has somehow lived onl, and most stones are usually adorned with flowers. He'd love to see a few patches of floral color in this red wasteland of a place.

They find the ones next to his—and, yes, it is a disconcerting sensation every time he sees his own grave—with Emma, Snow, and Regina's names on them. He feels gloved fingers enveloping his hand, so he turns and looks at Emma, not looking at him, but smiling a tight smile, hopefully taking some comfort in touching him.

"You all right?" he whispers.

"Just gearing up for it," she says, breaking away from him and standing across from the stones. "The spell worked in my dream. Now I just need to make it happen."

As soon as a white light emits from her hand, the wind picks up, blowing some lingering mist every which way. It quickly escalates to a howl, leaves smacking into the stones. Knowing their luck, Hades likely sent a cyclone or some such to stop her. He seemed the type to burn down the whole building for a few termites.

"Emma, wait. Any captain worth his salt knows when a storm's brewing, and trust me, we need to find shelter."

"Why did you just say that?" she demands, her eyes full of dread as she turns toward him, like he'd summoned the blasted tempest himself. They've faced literal and figurative storms together and he's never seen her act so afraid of one. Bloody hell, he hadn't meant to scare her.

"Oh, it's fine, love. It's just a storm. I've survived worse." Poor choice of words, but her panic-stricken expression doesn't seem to register it.

"No, I should not have brought you here! My dream—it wasn't just a dream. This is exactly how it happened!"

All right, all right. They can't dwell on the particulars right now, and with the wind, he can barely hear her anyway. Nothing will get done if she gives in to hysterics, and, judging by how frantically she moves around, trying to keep both him and Snow in her line of sight, she's not too far from it.

"Can we talk about that a bit later? We need to take shelter now," he orders, motioning for the two of them to find a place to wait this out. To their left, black clouds take over the sky, swirling into a menacing funnel. They run right up against one of the larger headstones, wide enough for the three of them to brace themselves against it as random pieces of straw come flying at it. A ditch would be better, he thinks, looking around, but then, all of a sudden, the sky clears. The rustling leaves go still.

"Well, look at that. The world's fastest storm," he marvels. Perhaps their luck is changing, and Hades' arrogance will be his downfall. Assuming they would give up, he called off his storm. Although Killian's not sure if a god of the dead would also be in charge of storms... He shrugs to himself, listening to one last rumble of thunder. Emma, however, doesn't look relieved at all. "Maybe this is turning into a good dream."

"It wasn't the storm I was worried about," she snaps. "In the dream, the cyclone brought a monster."

"What kind of monster?" Snow asks, her only answer from her daughter being a hand clutching her arm as something on the other side of the headstone, at least a few yards away, lets out a roar. Something big, no doubt.

"That kind."

"I'll take a look," Snow tells them, readying her bow.

"No! Mom, you just have to trust me. I can't let you do this." Something's wrong, and beyond just a short storm and some creature lurking through the cemetery. Emma looks ready to hyperventilate, her entire arm trembling as she holds her mother's.

"Okay, okay, Emma," Snow says, her hand weaving so the two of them are holding hands. "It was your dream. You tell us. What do we do now?"

Emma pauses, as if listening for something. Sure enough, the beast roars again, so it must have in her dream as well.

"We run," she growls, starting for the next barricade. Sprinting, he sees where she's leading them to—Regina's vault. Ah. Now, that dream would have indeed taken a sinister turn. No one wants to be in a crypt, let alone one filled with magical weapons and grimoires. That must be what happened next. They ran from the monster, searched here in the vault for something to keep it at bay, and she woke before getting confirmation it would work. That would account for everything except this unbelievable terror that dominates Emma right now. Not that the woman didn't have fears—being hurt, being left alone, being out of control. But this is the same woman who slayed a dragon and didn't even flinch when he'd had to pick a leech off of her in Neverland; the only creatures who ever unnerved her were human.

"Okay, I know it seems a little creepy," she addresses them. "But we should be safe down here."

Even while underground, they can hear the monster prowling the cemetery, letting out a frustrated roar.

"Are you sure about that?" he challenges. "What the hell is that thing, and why is it chasing us?"

"I don't know," Snow says, her quiver still slung over her shoulder, bow in hand. "But if it comes close, I can get a shot at it."

"No, you cannot go back out there!" Emma cries. Snow shakes her head, dropping the tactic of comforting a small child after a nightmare.

"Emma, what are you so afraid of? We've faced monsters before."

"My dream...it's happening." She sounds so devastated, more neurotic and frenzied than he's seen her in a long while. "And there's something else I didn't tell you."

He waits, as does Snow, watching Swan try to steady herself.

"You died."

Clairvoyance wouldn't be a Savior ability that would surprise him, but she's never received visions before.

But everything's happened as she's seen, he argues with himself.

Aye, but that only means those names can be burned off, and we're down here instead of up there. He's heard the stories of the bandit princess winning fights and taking out wild boars on her own, and, well, he knows Snow White; she's a force to be reckoned with. If anyone could win against such an enormous beast armed with only a bow, he would wager anything it would be her.

"Emma," Snow begins.

"Please, can't we just wait until it leaves?" Emma pleads. "It would be different if I knew what it was or how we could defeat it, but I don't! It's just a big black blur that..." Swallowing, she takes a deep, shaking breath. "Look, it might go away if we're not up there. The thing's going to go where there's prey, and I don't want that to be you, or any of us. Okay?"

Snow opens her mouth, but the way Emma sits on the edge of the table, eyes fixated on the spot straight ahead of her, gives no indication she's in a mood to budge.

"Okay," Snow mouths, nodding to herself and backing away.

Killian starts shuffling, scratching back behind his ear. He's not one for omens, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be. Couldn't he go up there? Would it be insensitive or just insurmountably stupid for the two of them to leave Snow down here, dispatch the monster, and then return to business? Going home has never felt like such a sure thing, and they may be only one step away. He edges toward the steps that lead back up to the cemetery.

"What the hell are you doing?" Swan demands of him, as if he had just suggested they break open the nearest bottle of random nefarious potion and drink the contents.

"I'm going to listen for it," he says as calmly as he can, waiting for her to breathe out. Giving him a slow nod, he returns it and paces near the steps.


He's not sure how much time has gone by, maybe only five minutes, but without Swan and her mother murmuring some kind of heart-to-heart in the background as he was hoping, time slows to a crawl. He's considered asking if there is something in this vault they can use to subdue the creature, but the grating feeling that Swan will reject this idea grows worse the closer he comes to suggesting it. They can't have a panicked Savior. She's the only one with magic should things go pear-shaped, or else he would just dash up the steps and draw the monster away. It's not like it will kill him.

He's heard nothing, though, which is an encouraging thought. If it's wandered off in search of greener pastures, they can all go up and get back to work. Listening for a second longer, he squints up at the entrance.

"I think that monster's gone away."

Bloody hell for timing—something rumbles up there the moment Emma and Snow stand up. He'll take care of this. Reaching past Swan, he picks up a dagger, thick and about the length of his forearm. As Snow readies her bow, he runs over to the bottom of the steps and extends his arm, only to meet a gasping Regina.

"Sorry, love." Tucking the dagger away, he almost shares her incredulous expression.

"Well, I'm glad your reflexes are better than your sense of style," she quips, marching past him. So then whatever she may or may not have found out from Zelena equated to a bad day. Looking exhausted, she regards the three of them for a moment before she huffs. "Well, this has turned into quite a day. Why are you all in my vault?"

"Short version—thing with fangs trying to kill us," Snow answers.

"And you're hiding instead of fighting?"

"I saw the same monster in my dream...and, in the end, it..." Swan tries to explain, but it seems she's more embarrassed by the dream every time she retells it.

"It killed me, so..." Snow adds, and then trails off, so Killian looks over at Emma, varying between looking afraid and looking humiliated.

"I thought it was a message or some sort of vision of the future," she says. Well, if it turns out Emma Swan can see the future, he won't doubt it, but he's no stranger to the kinds of dreams lingering guilt and worries can produce.

"Well, you dreamt it. It's not like it'll happen," Regina says with a shrug. Catching herself being more blunt than she probably wanted to be, she cocks her head. "Maybe this dream isn't just about the monster. It's about you working out some issues."

There. Out in the open. They can talk.

"I don't have any issues," Swan says, propping her elbow onto the top of a chair. She's barely slept since she's been here, they've been at a standstill for the longest time, the house filled with toys...

"Much as it pains me, I have to agree with Regina," he says, walking closer to her. "Emma, what's going on?"

She blinks a few times and looks away, but it's not her walls. She's ashamed. And scared. And worried.

"Maybe...I feel like...I failed everyone," she whispers. Gods, he thinks, locking eyes with her. He can't imagine the burden that finding everyone's happy endings must be, how responsible he would always feel if the slightest thing ever went wrong.

"Failed? You saved me."

"But we're still trapped in the Underworld!" He can taste her disgust with the last word. "What the hell was I thinking bringing everyone down here? Bringing Henry down here? This was a terrible plan. I should have done this alone. Now...I'm always frightened. I'm frightened that someone will die, and it'll be my fault. And I'll never forgive myself."

She's in tears, or she would be if she wasn't so bloody tired. If there was ever any more proof required the Darkness had left her for good... If she could only have a break, time to flesh out her own happiness instead of always having to secure everyone else's.

"Emma," Snow says with a gentle strength. "You didn't force any of us down here. We all wanted to come with you. We knew it would be hard. These things always are. But some things are worth it. Love is worth it."

Swan looks up at him, and the corners of his mouth turn up. She loves him. He loves her. Everyone knows it. Those three facts can make his head spin at times, can steal his breath and send his brain reeling...but then they steady him again, soothe him like nothing else can.

"Now," Snow continues. "If you want to get home, let's do what works. Let's face this monster together."

"Okay," Emma says, standing straighter. Smiling at her mother, she holds his hand and follow Snow up the steps out of the vault. She takes the lead, following the enormous set of tracks around the cemetery toward the woods—a fox or a wolf given their shape, only he's never seen ones this big before.

"The stride on this thing," Snow breathes, not talking to anyone in particular. She follows the trail a little longer, the rest of them behind her, scanning the trees for movement. Such a creature would find difficulty hiding; the cemetery and surrounding trees were more or less open area.

"It's close," Snow announces to them. Looking down, he sees fresher tracks. "Keep your eyes peeled."

"There!" Regina points to a black flash up on the incline. Swan and Regina shoot light out at it at the same time Snow fires an arrow. It disappears, but only because it's gone down with a whimper.

"Nice shot," he says to everyone. They hurry up the bluff to where a chocolate brown wolf with black streaks lies, eyes closed, sprawled and with just a few drops of blood around the point where Snow's arrow nicked it.

"Wait, everybody stay back. That thing could still be alive," Swan warns, bringing her hands up.

"Emma, stop. Don't kill it!" Snow gasps, setting her quiver down with a loud clatter. She can't take her eyes off the wolf. "I think your dream was a vision, but it wasn't about saving me." She pauses and stoops down behind some rocks, gathering a bright red cloak to her. A very familiar red cloak. Sure enough, as soon as she drapes it over the unconscious beast, it transforms into Ruby, her hair splayed everywhere, her face as blank and unassuming as if she'd been sleeping. What on earth was she doing in the Underworld?


A/N: Obviously, back when I was finishing up writing Season 3, I had no idea Ruby had decided to leave Storybrooke. I honestly thought she was just having off-screen adventures. There will be some explanation/tweaking of her story in the next chapter. Coming up? David and Hook continue the bromance.