"That's a beautiful fairytale, Darling, but I learned my lesson about those a long time ago—we never win." Cruella held tighter to the trigger of the power hose, unleashing a torrent of water to wash away the stench of waste and death.

"This time we might have a chance, Cruella," Ursula turned to Rumplestiltskin. "Show her the page, Rumple."

But Cruella just threw up her hand, uninterested. "No more contracts with the Dark One, My Sweet, I learned that lesson too," she sneered over at Rumplestiltskin, baring her perfect teeth, which seemed at odds with her wild, two toned hair. But Cruella had always been the more unhinged of the Queens of Darkness as Rumplestiltskin had once dubbed them, so he was hardly surprised to find her in this state.

Though she had obviously chosen her profession to suite her unique magical talents.

Undeterred, Rumplestiltskin extracted the double folded sheet of paper and held it out to the woman who stubbornly refused to look at it, focusing instead on hosing down the kennel.

"Oh for Poseidon's sake!" With a huff, Ursula walked up and snatched the hose from Cruella's hand. "Just look at the damn, page Cru!"

One long, blood red fingernail came up to Ursula's eyes as the once refined woman hissed, "This is a trap! One remaining object of power, that's all we have, and suddenly a powerless Dark One says he needs it to fulfill our greatest desires. Really, you can't be so far gone from the Sea Witch you once were that you'd believe him?"

Ursula sneered, "I'm every bit the Sea Witch I've always been, and you'd do well to remember that, before I have my powers back." The two faced off with looks of pure hatred, before the look broke and the two of them smiled sweetly at each other as if nothing unpleasant had passed between them. "Just look at the page, Cru, I think you'll find all the proof you need."

Turning, Cruella held out her long fingers to Rumplestiltskin, "Well, Darling, show me what you came to show me."

With a flourish and a deep bow, that felt good to his tired bones, Rumplestiltskin presented the page. "I trust you'll recognize the paper."

For a moment, Cruella examined the page, testing its texture with her fingers. When she finally looked up, there was shock and a deep respect on her face, "This is from a Book of Fate; I'd know this paper anywhere."

"Exactly, Dearie, which is why, even if my word wasn't good, which is insulting enough as it is, you can't deny that anything written on that paper will come to pass." Rumplestiltskin watched as the woman looked at the picture of the three of them standing on one side of the Storybrooke line, with Maleficent on the other, her arms outstretched, and a slight shimmer that was the barrier, falling before them. When she flipped the page, it was to see a large group of people—people like themselves, Snow White, Emma, Regina, and other faceless beings—in a library, surrounded by Books of Fate.

Cruella looked up and caught a nod from Ursula, "It's true, a Book of Fate cannot lie. And there," she pointed to the page, "in the center, the text says that's one of the legendary Fates, who can spin a person's destiny anyway she pleases."

"Exactly right," Rumplestiltskin sing-songed, the look purely manic on his haggard human appearance. He stepped forward and snatched the page from Cruella's hand, folding it neatly to tuck back into the pocket of a jacket far too large for him. "With but a thought," his hands moved wildly before him, "this girl can craft a person's destiny by will alone. No one's fate is their own when she's at her wheel," his face suddenly twisted, warring with itself between rage and grief so strong the other two sorceresses looked at each other in concern. "The text says," he suddenly continued non-pulsed, "she's imprisoned, and the ones that let her out will be rewarded with 'their heart's desire'." He smirked, flashing uneven teeth, "So you see, Dearie, you use the last of your magic, stored in that heinous coat," Cruella bared her teeth and growled at him, but Rumplestiltskin continued, "and add it to Ursula's neckless, and in a week's time, we meet Maleficent at the Storybrooke line. And once we do—"

"We'll finally get our Happy Ending," Ursula finished, clasping Cruella arm.

For one long moment, Cruella considered her options, and then with a cruel smile, she snatched the hose from Ursula before throwing it down and turned towards her companions. "Alright then, Darlings, time for the villains to win for a change."

A look of disgust crossed her features and she threw her two toned black and white hair over her shoulder and put her nose in the air, "But first, time to clean you two up." Rumplestiltskin and Ursula regarded each other, but didn't object, and then Cruella's wicked smile was back in place. "Come, Darlings, we'll take, my, car."

"How are we going to know if it worked?"

The library lobby was empty and dark at 3am, except for the beams of light coming from their flashlights. Breaking in had been easy for the daughter of an outlaw, and now she and Neal were waiting for the elevator to take them into the depths of the tunnels below.

"Easy, they'll be a giant roar and an even bigger dragon."

Neal's head swiveled towards her, "What? You never said anything about a dragon. I thought she was a wraith?"

With a huff, Apple regarded her fiancé, "She is, but her body was locked in her dragon form by my mother, therefore, when Rumplestiltskin gives her back her body, it stands to reason it'll be a dragon."

Turning to face her fully, Neal threw his hands out, "And how exactly are we supposed to deal with a dragon?"

A twinkle in her eyes, Apple batted her eyelashes, "Well, you are the handsome prince, so obviously you're going to defend me while I cast the counterspell and put Aunty Mel back in her human form."

The elevator door ticked open with the sound of a thousand gears shifting, but Neal held her back, "And if I was supposed to slay the dragon, no problem, but something tells me, I'm not allowed to hurt her so—"

Irritation darkened the eighteen year old's expression, "Well of course you're not allowed to hurt her! You're just going to run around, preferably far away from me, so I can cast the spell and get Mel back. No hacking or slashing required, just run away," she smiled evil, a look that told anyone exactly who her mother was, "Pretend your Jefferson, and run like a little bitch."

With a deep sigh, Neal ushered her into the elevator and manned the controls, "You could have at least warned me so I could have brought my sword."

"I already told you, you're not skewing my Aunty Mel! You and my brother are the best swordsmen in the kingdom, so there's no way I'm putting you up against a dragon with a sword, you'd pierce her heart in five seconds and then we'd really be in trouble."

Recognizing their tiff had become a game, Neal chuckled, "Well, if the best swordsman in the kingdom can't figure out how to fight a dragon without stabbing it through the heart, our kingdom is in a sad defensive state."

"Or," Apple stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him with all of her infinite love for him on her beautiful face, "I just know that you'd never risk anything happening to me. You are just a tad overprotective."

Leaning down, Neal brushed his lips against hers, and then deepened the kiss as the elevator took them into the depths of their town.

When she saw Henry for the first time, she thought she'd finally gone mad. Silently, she watched him look around her prison as dawning understanding bloomed across his face. Book after book was removed from its shelf and opened, revealing their empty pages that made her ache and yearn for her visions.

When he gave a whoop and ran out of the room, never once seeing her, she'd felt that spark of hope once again, and had wished for a bath.

But in the water, she realized with a shaft of piercing horror, that Henry hadn't looked a day older than 14. So she'd gotten out of the water, naked but never cold, and crossed the webbed room to stand before his fate.

Had it been a few days, a few weeks or months since she'd last touched it? Maybe it had been years now.

With trembling fingers, she gave his thread the barest touch, and cried out in horror as it snapped between her fingers, and drifted slowly until it rested on the gleaming floor.

Hands covered her mouth to hold in her shock and horrified sobs, but a flicker of movement against the firelight caught her attention, and she turned to see another strand snap. And then to her left another one, and then another and another, and as she watched in silent horror, too terrified now to cry out, the threads of fate continued to fall to the floor, until only one strand remained, and then she did cry, screamed and raged, and tore books from shelves, and her precious paints across the room to melt into the fallen strands.

"How have you been feeling, Belle?"

The broken woman shrugged.

Dr. Hopper nodded, sipping lukewarm tea in Belle's mess of a kitchen. Dirt and dust had settled everywhere, but Belle had long since given up the task of keeping it clean. He knew Ruby had been over a few weeks ago to tidy up, but Belle was unwilling to continue her efforts.

She'd lost weight, her clothes, once fashionable, if not a bit odd for their small town, now hung off her frame except around her belly where the briefest outline of her condition was present. She worried it now, but not as any good mother might, her hands were claws against the protrusion, though her face remained as desolate as ever.

Leaning forward, he caught her eye. "Belle, I know you've struggled with your decision, but Dr. Whale is willing to do the procedure only if you complete it by the end of the week. Your first trimester is almost over, and it won't be safe for you after that." She nodded, silent tears weeping from her eyes.

He remained silent for a moment, watching her closely before he leaned forward again, his voice gentle. "There's no shame in changing your mind." He was surprised when she looked up at him, some emotion he couldn't name flashing behind her eyes. "There isn't," he continued, "You know the hospital has the means to facilitate a closed adoption. It will be difficult for you, but you could give your baby her best chance outside Storybrooke. No magic, no one to know his parentage, he'll be given a great life—"

"Like Emma?" Her voice was as dull as her eyes had become, no longer a radiant blue, but a muted gray.

He shook his head, "No Belle, Emma was an unusual case. Most babies are placed in happy homes with new parents who love them like their own." He reached out a hand to cover hers, a little surprised when it was cold but steady, "If that's what you want, I can work with the hospital to have everything in place when the time comes. But Belle," he waited for her to meet his eyes, "if that's your decision, then you need to start taking better care of yourself. You need to eat, and sleep," he pointed at the empty bottles of liquor by the trash, "and this, you have to give your child her best chance."

Belle looked over at the empty bottles, and then for the first time seemed to see the disaster that had overcome Mr. Gold's impeccable house. But just as quickly, despair took its place, and she gave a half wave of her hand as if it didn't matter. "I'll go to the hospital by the end of the week." Then she stood, and without a backwards glance retired up the stairs.