Chapter Eleven: Darkness Spreads

"To fear love is to fear life

and those who fear life are already three parts dead."

~Betrand Russel, Earl Russel

"This will do," Chernabog caressed his hand over the walls of Regina's old home. He would pat the walls affectionately every few steps and smiled when an empty, echoed pattern bounced back. His auburn eyes would dilate from the power that was soaked into the walls. It was delicious what she had done to the place and probably didn't even know it. He then turned to Hook and his crew who took up the seating in the den, some resorting to sit on the floor, "So much magic is soaked into each fiber of this home. It will do well for defense should we need it. We won't if we play our cards right."

"Are you sure we should be in such an… elaborate establishment?" Hook asked and began to change the fake hand for his favored hook, "The new activity in a public official's house should attain some kind of attention. Especially from the neighbors."

"Ah, but that's where you are wrong," Chernabog held up his hand and looked out the windows toward the street, where he could only see the tall hedges, "No one can really see the activity in this house, she had it well guarded. I had watched the woman. The people of this little town didn't want anything to do with her. They shunned her."

"Being the daughter of Cora, I wouldn't blame them," Hook scoffed and then looked at his employer of sorts, "But all of this is meaning…?"

"Oh, come now, Captain," Chernabog frowned and chastised the pirate, "You are an intelligent man. Think."

"No one will come looking for her, or come to the house," he concluded quickly and narrowed his eyes at the dark man in front of him, "We won't be able to keep it up forever, though."

"Won't need to," Chernabog shrugged, "Just long enough to reach Rumplestiltskin and destroy him completely. That's what we are here for, isn't it?"

There was a pause between man and devil and Hook finally sighed with a deep breath.

"I call the master suit," Hook said and looked at the glittering of his hook from the florescent lights.

"You may have it," Chernabog relented as if he was throwing the man a bone, "The night is mine. I never sleep when the moon is up."

"My men?"

"There are plenty of rooms," Chernabog looked over the group of men, "If I were them, I would look for my sleeping quarters before another one of them get the good ones."

At that the men all scrambled to their feet and ran toward the stairs to find their room.

"I wonder how long it will take them to notice that there is only one other room with a bed in it," Chernabog chuckled with the shake of his head.

"I want to know when we are going to go ahead with the destruction of a certain imp," Hook said and stepped up to him in front of the window, "The boy has been here for over two days now. He must have seen his father and seen what kind of man he is. If he was going to join our cause, he would have done so by now. I say we attack now. The old crocodile must suspect something is up by now with no action from your part."

"We will wait for the boy to come back. He may be more help than you would ever think."

"We wait too long and we will lose everything!" Hook seethed, "I have waited decades and centuries for the opportunity to kill that retched creature!"

"Patience is a virtue, Hook," Chernabog began to growl low in his throat and shifted just his eyes toward the pirate, "And a good way to make sure that I don't slice your head off."

"If you held that power, you wouldn't need me," Hook snarled and turned his back toward the original Dark One. A very hasty and bad decision.

An invisible grip caught his throat and lifted him into the air. The man was then thrown into the closest wall and all his limbs pasted to the classic wallpaper. Chernabog walked to his hanging ally and watched as he struggled with the action of breathing. Hook's eyes widened and found it harder to follow the man standing opposite him.

"Now, I am going to let you breath in a minute," Chernabog smiled cruelly, "But you have to understand something very important, Hook. This is my operation. This is my plan and this is my power. I may not have a connection to my dagger, but I have more than enough magic to end your miserable life before you get a chance to enact your revenge. Do I make myself clear?"

Hook's head bobbed as the lack of oxygen made things fuzzy for the pirate.

"Good," Chernabog flicked a finger and Hook took a much need breath of air though his limbs stayed in place on the wall, "You are only alive because I know that you are the only being that possibly has more hate for Rumplestiltskin than me and that's debatable."

"Not in my mind," Hook growled and shook his head, "I will kill him. I have given my word."

"I have a question that has been stuck in mind since I had discovered this extreme hatred," Chernabog paused and narrowed his eyes at the captive, "When you finally kill him, what will you do with yourself? You have done so much, but have lived for only one thing since the death of your precious Milah… the ultimate demise of that who killed her. What will you do when that goal has been met?"

"I will do what I have already agreed to," he sneered and looked out the windows, "I will take your power and do what you will. If I am nothing else, I am an honorable man when it comes to my dealings. It's the pirate code I live by. Our word must be solid."

"That was the right answer," Chernabog flicked his wrist this time and Hook fell to the floor of the den. He walked toward the front door, but didn't throw a passing glance to the man on the floor, "Don't try to test me again, Captain. You will not like the consequences."

"Where are you going?" Hook asked as he picked himself off the floor and brushed off his clothing.

"To answer the door, of course."

"But I haven't-"

A strong knock bounced against the door and Hook stopped in his tracks. Chernabog was getting proud of his new abilities. He was getting stronger.

Hook met Chernabog out in the foyer and waited for him to open the door. There, in the doorway was a conflicted looking Baelfire.

"Hello, young master Baelfire," Chernabog answered with a smile and motioned for him to come in, "I was hoping that you would be able to find me should the moment arise that you would want to."

"I am sure that your magic provided for that instance," Baelfire answered and walked in. He shot a look toward Hook and then looked back at Chernabog as he closed the door.

"It may have had its own hand in it, yes. What can I do for you, son?" Chernabog asked and put his hands on his hips. He put a strangely friendly smile of his face and tried to play up anything good that he could imagine. If he wasn't so good at manipulation, he probably would have failed.

"I am not your son," Baelfire reminded him

"Of course," Chernabog bowed his head slightly.

"I want to talk to you about my father," Baelfire said and quickly moved his eyes between the two men standing in front of him.

"Then by all means, he have much to discuss," Chernabog ushered Baelfire into the den and to one of the plush single chairs. Hook sat in the other one as Chernabog took the large settee. He overlooked the man as did Hook and they both took a look at one another before Chernabog spoke, "I assume that you have seen your father."

"Yes, we have spoken," Baelfire nodded and a very faint pained expression crossed his features.

"Was he everything that you remembered?" Hook asked and leaned back in his chair as he crossed his legs.

"Yes and no," Baelfire nodded his head from side to side. He narrowed his eyes then and focused on a spot on the wooden table in front of him, "He is still plagued by that darkness that I saw growing in him when the curse had just started. He is cruel to others and can cut anyone to the quick with just a word or even a look…"

"I still feel as if you are conflicted with him," Chernabog offered.

"I am," Baelfire nodded, never flinching from the spot on the table, "He has also changed. I see more of my father in him. The darkness is prevalent, but it has been reigned in. All by one person who does so much for him. More than I was ever able to do... Belle has done so much for him."

"Belle?" Hook asked and his spine straightened, "Is that an ally of his?"

"She is his true love," Baelfire smiled a little and shook his head, "I thought that he would have never loved again. Not after…"

Hook knew that he was about to talk about his mother, but he stopped himself once again. Hook always yearned for someone else to talk about Milah. He missed her and her laughter. He wondered if the man in front of him had inherited that from her like he had her lips and her nose. He wanted more stories about her and how she was before he even knew she walked the earth.

"Why don't you talk about her?" Hook asked and saw Baelfire stiffen, "Your mother was a beautiful person and I think that it blemishes her memory to forget her."

"Then you get that luxury," Baelfire said with a frown, "I don't remember my mother, because she was never there. I think I have you to thank for that."

"He is her murderer," Hook said with a snarl.

"Which happened only after he lost me. A good nine years after she left with you," Baelfire turned his eyes toward Hook, "You have those happy memories. I only have fragmented moments of nights were she was sober enough to even process I was there."

"She loved you."

"Apparently only under herself," Baelfire concluded and shook his head. He shook his head, "I remember vowing that I would kill whoever took her from me when I was a child. That's what a good son would do. Then she wasn't dead, but just gone… well, I didn't know what to do. What do you do when you discover your mother left you willingly because she wanted to be 'free'?"

Hook sat silent and watched the man he thought of as a boy. So much Milah's boy, but not. He had not seen himself as her son for a very long time.

"He admitted his involvement with mother's murder," Baelfire said slowly, "He told me the whole story. He says he regrets what he had done. He regrets killing my mother."

"As he should," Hook looked at his hook and moved his finger down the smoothed curve.

Baelfire ignored the other man and focused on Chernabog, "He is more human than I thought he would be, but I know that it's only because of Belle. The darkness is still in him, still fights to change him."

"This is true," Chernabog nodded and tapped his fingers over the table separating them.

"You told me that we could make him whole again. Make him completely human," Baelfire said with an undertone of eagerness, "Is that true?"

"Yes, it is," Chernabog agreed.

"Your magic can sure him of this curse?"

"There are only two ways to stop this curse completely," Chernabog stood up and began to pace the room, "One would be the power of true love, but a kiss in this world would not change a thing. Not at this point, anyway. But if what you say is true, this Belle may be a great ally and weapon against the dark magic."

"If her kiss cannot change him back, what is the other avenue?" Baelfire asked quickly.

"For that… I would have to have the blade," Chernabog turned back at Baelfire who frowned deeply.

"I thought you said that you didn't want it."

"I actually, can't touch it," Chernabog said in truth, but then turned twisted it in the next breath, "My magic is different from the dagger. It can destroy it, but I cannot wield the blade to control your father or the darkness in him."

"So if I were to bring you the dagger, I would be the one that could wield it?" Baelfire asked with an unsure expression, "You would not be able to touch it or control him?"

"It would be all up to you," he nodded with a sly smile, "Control of Rumplestiltskin is out of my hands."

"You would be able to destroy it? Would be able to free him of the curse that entraps him?" Bealfire asked eagerly.

"He would be free of it," Chernabog answered and leaned forward to hold out his hand toward Baelfire, "You have my word."

"That's all I ever wanted," Baelfire nodded and shook the devil's hand. He then turned to Hook who was fighting down a smirk behind his folded hands, "Why is he here, though? Do we really need him?"

"He is insurance should I need to keep the dark side of Rumplestiltskin under control," Chernabog explained, "Many people lost something to the Dark One. I know you don't think too highly on your mother, but she was this man's everything. He wants the curse lifted as much as you do."

"Why do you?"

"I don't like to see such souls as your father pray victim to such a desperate and vile curse," Chernabog smiled again and patted the back of Baelfire's hand, "Now, do what you can about that dagger and you will know what to do after that. I can guarantee it."

"What about the woman?" Hook suddenly spoke up and looked up at Chernabog who threw him a cautious look to watch his words, "If she can tame the beast with in him, maybe she could weaken the curse enough for the final blow. Would she be willing to help?"

"She loves my father regardless of what he is…" Baelfire said quietly, but then nodded, "She's helped him and I know that she sees him suffer under the shadows. She can help again, I'm sure."

"See if you can convince her to help us," Chernabog nodded and looked between the two men to show Baelfire toward the door, "She may come in more help than we realize. True loves often do."

"I will bring her," Baelfire smiled brightly at the notion that he may have his father back.

"Perfect," Chernabog smiled back, "You may call on me at any time and find me when you need. My name is Donovan. Remember that."

"Donovan," Baelfire nodded.

"And I would keep your father and his Belle out of the loop when it comes to this," he flitted his finger between them, "You know how protective the beast in him gets about that dagger."

"Don't I," Baelfire nodded, "Don't worry, he won't know."

"Perfect. Until next we meet, Baelfire."

"Thank you for everything, Donovan," Baelfire nodded toward him and ignored Hook behind him. Baelfire walked out of the house and turned down the street.

"I noticed that you blurred a few lines of truth in there," Hook said after the door was closed again.

"It's the best form of manipulation," Chernabog smiled dangerously, "Use the truth against the pure and it will always end in sweet chaos. Now, what shall we do with dear, lovely Belle?"

"What is the most painful for him?" Hook chuckled with a gleam of vengeance raging behind his eyes.

Baelfire climbed the stairs to the front of the old Victorian home with lightness to his step he had never had before. At least not one he has had in a very long time. He lifted his hand to knock on the door when his father pulled it open before he could make contact with the wood.

"I was hoping that you would show up," Rumplestiltskin smiled hopeful toward his son.

"I told you that I would," he nodded and came into the large home. He took a look around and saw all the trinkets and baubles that were in organized random placements, "A very eclectic collection."

"Things I have collected from others," Rumplestiltskin looked over the same baubles, "I had called Granny's and had your things brought over here into the guest room. I hope I didn't over step any boundaries in doing so."

"No, that's fine," Baelfire put his hands out to stop him from feeling any negative emotions, "I had hoped to talk to you over a few things still."

"Then the sitting room?" Rumplestiltskin motioned to the left.

"This might be better coming right out," Baelfire took a deep breath, "Do you still have it?"

"Have what?"

"The dagger, papa," Baelfire saw a steel like shield snap shut behind his father's eyes.

"What would you need with that thing?" he asked and remembered the last time that he allowed someone he thought was his son hold it.

"I just want to make sure that no one can touch it. Now that you have your magic back… you never know who might want to wield it," Baelfire frowned.

"It is safe," was all that was said, "I am still trying to find a way to rid myself of it and that which follows it."

"What if I found a way?" Baelfire asked.

"Another magic bean?" Rumplestiltskin leaned on his cane, "I trust you, Bae. More than anyone else, but I don't trust anything that is connected to that blade. Nothing good comes of it."

"You didn't follow me once," Baelfire put a hand on his father's shoulder and looked at him in the eyes, "Jump with me this time, papa. We will find a way to fight it together."

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, a frown of uncertainty crossing his features. He reluctantly patted his son's opposite shoulder and nodded.

"Follow me," he said quietly and led him toward the bottom of the stairs.

Through a few secret doors and a different room below even the basement, he opened a protective enchantment over two items that sat in the middle of the room. Rumplestiltskin nodded his head toward the two items and let Baelfire step toward them.

He looked at the chipped cup that looked like it was used, but cleaned for its time locked in the protection of the basement treasure room. Then on a red pillow was the blade with his father's name printed upon it. He moved toward it and then looked to his father. He nodded in acceptance and Baelfire picked it up. He frowned at the cold metal and everything that the thing had done to his father.

"I cursed myself to protect you," Rumplestiltskin said, "After I lost you, after I didn't follow you… I stayed cursed because I found out that I could get to you only through the magic that had manifested in me. That it would lead me to this world and hopefully to you. Now that you are here…"

"I can destroy it, papa. Than you would be free."

"I would want that more than anything else," he smiled sadly.

"…but you're not going to do it."

"I will," Rumplestiltskin nodded and walked to his son to put the blade back on the pillow, "But I must be assured that the dark magic outside of myself will not come after you or Belle. This isn't about me anymore, Bae. It is protecting that which is most precious to me. Just wait a little longer."

Baelfire felt disappointment, but hope rise in him, "You will be free of it, papa."

"I hope so… I really do."