A/N: Hello, lovelies! So, it's been a while since I've had a story that I actually have an ending in mind for. As many of you who follow me know, I'm a huge Killian fan. So, obviously, my mind was reeling after the 5A finale. If you were reading my August-centric story, that's on the back burner. I had too much going on that I couldn't finish it before the new season started. I may throw in an August cameo somewhere here. As always, I do love the comments. Many times I get sparks of ideas from those comments, so please help my creativeness get moving! Thanks for reading!
Gold began the journey to his shop, part of him seething, and part of him fearful. He had been to this place before. Had experienced the horrors this Underworld had to offer. But this time was slightly different.
When he had been rid of the darkness, he had feared his journey here. He had hid himself in shadows, frequented places that the other souls would not think to look for him. He knew that if people realized he was there, they would have formed an army to rip him apart.
A few souls had found him the last time. He remembers the pain, the gashes that would not bleed but hurt as though they did. He remembers begging them to stop. It had been such a relief when he could hide away for a while. It was an even bigger blessing when he suddenly felt weak and passed out. When he next opened his eyes and came to, he had been in the presence of Emma, also known as the new Dark One.
Now, he was ready to get some revenge on those who had come after him. While he had not wanted to assist the entourage, and especially not with rescuing him, he knew he was cornered. Yes, he was now the most powerful Dark One in its history, but he still had his one weakness: Belle. He knew Emma's speech was correct. He could easily crush her, but it would not be fast enough to silence her before she could at the least, plant a seed of doubt in Belle's head. He had not wanted to return to this place either. He had only agreed to open the portal. But when he saw his grandson, his only tie to Baelfire, adamant to join the cause, he knew he had to go along.
He continued his walk to his shop, boldly, confidently, ready to face off against anyone who crossed his path. He told the others that magic was inconsistent, but he knew that as the Dark One, he would, most likely, not have those same limitations. As he approached the door, something felt off. He sensed a presence, familiar and unwelcome. He opened the door with a flourish and lit all the lamps with a flick of his hand.
The shop, as he knew it would be, was cluttered and wrecked. Objects lay on the floor, some broken, some still in tact. He wasn't sure what he was looking for exactly. In all honesty, this wasn't necessarily a real place. It was a limbo, a haven for souls awaiting closure, and he was trespassing. Many of the objects here are useless, their powers abandoned in this realm, just mere memories of what was in the land of the living. However, some magic is transferrable if powerful enough, and if any such relic was here, Gold was determined to find it.
He searched the items on the floor first, but all were powerless. He moved to the counters, and was met with the same reality. He opened the safe behind him, and found it to be empty, save for a tipped over vial, the one he had put the True Love magic into. He opened the door to the back office, hoping that it would be a more fruitful search. Papers were sifted through, vials of potions were sniffed for magical potency, relics were handled. Finally, in a small box under a floorboard, he found what he was looking for. Three potions were lying inside the wooden box, glistening and glittering in the dim light.
Gold lifted up the first elixir, bright blue and swirling. He opened it and knew instantly that it had retained its properties, despite its current resting place. While he hadn't had much use for it in a place like Storybrooke, this bottle could come quite handy here. He set it back down and picked up the second. This bottle was filled with something red, almost boiling in nature. He held it close to his cheek and felt its warmth. The third bottle was blinding and a shimmering gold. He handled this one with the most care. Of all the potions he had collected in his centuries of being the Dark One, he had kept this one the most hidden.
Sadly, he could not have used it the last time he was here. He hadn't even been able to make it to his shop without being seen and tortured. And while he didn't wish to waste such a powerful potion on this mission, he didn't truly see a reason to ever need it again now that he was all-powerful. He made sure all three were safe and back in their box before waving his hand over it, placing a protection spell upon it. Placing the box under his arm, he turned to walk towards the door.
"And what do you think you're doing, Laddie?" a familiar voice called out. It was a voice that chilled Gold's core, filling him with a mix of fear, anger, and sadness. He spun around to find his father, Peter Pan, staring at him, amusement in his boyish eyes.
"Papa," Gold said, through gritted teeth. "I'm leaving." Peter walked towards him, shaking his head.
"Now, see, I think you're wrong. The only way you're going to leave is to hand over that box." Gold felt the anger and darkness taking over.
"And why, pray tell, would I do that?" Peter came closer and made to sit on the edge of a table.
"Because, son, I know what those potions do. I know what you're planning. And unfortunately, I need these elixirs to help me with my own quest." Within a split second, Peter shot forth an arrow dipped in dream shade. Gold lazily waved his hand and the arrow dropped to the floor. Pan looked shocked.
"Learned some new tricks, did we, boy? How is it that you can do magic down here now? You certainly couldn't last time." Gold's face fell, and it egged Pan on.
"Yes, the last time you were here, I knew. I saw your cowardly body hiding from those you had swindled. I saw how you couldn't defend yourself with or without magic. I watched as you crawled into corners, a bloody heap, trying to stay out of sight. Sorry I couldn't help you, it was just so entertaining to watch."
"This time is different," Gold said softly.
"Yes, Laddie, and how is that?" With tremendous force, Gold pushed a wave of magic at the boy who used to be his father, and Pan was slammed into a wall.
"Because I am, once again, the Dark One." Pan stood back up, massaging his jaw. A glinting steeliness was in his eyes. If he was surprised, he did not show it.
"That, while unlikely, may be true, but every Dark One has its weakness."
"Not me. I have now inherited every power of every Dark One who came before me. And I will be leaving with this box," Gold announced darkly. He made to stride away, when Pan's voice called out one more time.
"How about a deal?" Pan sounded different, pleading and desperate. Gold stopped in his tracks and turned once more.
"And what could you possibly have that I want?" Pan straightened up.
"A second chance," he answered simply. Gold just looked at him, so his father continued. "Think about it. As the most powerful Dark One, I'm sure Hades would agree to form a partnership. Ask him to allow me to go back. We'll meet up with Baelfire, and be a proper family, son." For the tiniest of moments, Gold looked tempted, then the reality set back in. He clenched his teeth.
"You're a liar," he ground out. He walked towards his father, malice in his eyes. "How dare you weave me a web of possible fairytale endings like you did when I was a child?" He continued walking. "How dare you entice me with thoughts of meeting up with my son?" He raised his hand, ready to strike, the Dream Shade arrow returned to it. He knew it wouldn't kill him, but it would cause irreversible agony. "Baelfire is dead, and you know why? Because. Of. You. You killed him. In setting that curse, and sacrificing myself to kill you, Baelfire perished. He has gone where I cannot find him. And now? I'm going to repay the favor. You are no father. Goodbye." Gold poised the arrow, ready to thrust it into Pan's chest, when an unknown force held him back. A large part of him was whispering, do it. But a tiny little voice in his ear pleaded with him to let the boy go. He lowered his hand, not knowing why he couldn't go through with it. He heard a small chuckle.
"I knew you couldn't do it, Rumple," Peter Pan answered, getting back to his feet. "I knew you couldn't hurt your father. You've gone soft. A trait, unfortunately, I know your grandson has also inherited." A threat was made clear within those lines. Without another thought, Gold sent another burst of magic at his father, who was smashed into the wall and slumped to the floor, unconscious and bleeding.
"Next time, I will kill you," Gold said, before walking out of the shop, the box of potions under his arm, and Peter Pan oblivious to his departure.