David watched his grandson carefully, wondering if the little boy was really as confident and unafraid as he seemed. Rumplestiltskin wasn't exactly at the top of his list of people to trust, but the man had been right, or so it appeared. The child's ability to navigate the nightmare had erased his fear.

The nightmare itself seemed to be more than the random neural firings of a little boy. He would give his thoughts to the specifics of it later, but for the moment, his attention belonged to Henry. Truth was, when the child had first called him "Grandpa," he hadn't been too sure what to make of it. He'd always liked Regina's little boy, as they'd all thought of him, but the step from that to thinking of him as his grandson had been gigantic. He'd agreed to take care of him out of desperation at first, but necessity had soon turned into something else.

David had started to understand why new parents could stand at their babies' cribs and just stare for hours. He'd begun to see how people's lives got wrapped up in their children, and they didn't even mind. He loved Storybrooke, but he loved Henry so much more that it staggered him. He hadn't known he even had that much love in him.

Henry walked over to the sink and washed out his cup, putting it on the counter to dry in the careful way he did everything. "I'm ready to go back to bed," he said, coming over to stand in front of David.

The prince was gratified to realize that his grandson was waiting for the hug he could always count on his grandfather giving him, but before he put his arms around him, he locked eyes with the kid. "Henry, you know I would do it for you if I could."

"I know," said Henry, "but you've done everything for me. It's my turn to do something."

David wanted to say but you're a kid. You're too young to be so brave and do so much, but he remembered what it had been like to be a little boy, all the hunger he'd felt to be a hero and earn his father's respect, so he didn't.

"No more sneaking coffee then?" he said instead, smiling.

Henry shook his head. "Nope. I like hot chocolate better anyway." David hugged him and sent him back to bed with a promise to check on him later, as he always did.

Ten minutes later, he stared down at his sleeping grandson. The boy looked peaceful, no longer dreaming of the fire or the woman, and he was glad. He, too, needed to sleep, but he wasn't sure he would be able to with all of his thoughts of Ruby and Henry's nightmare and the madman's burned hat running through his mind. Still, even if he couldn't lead Storybrooke perfectly, he could take comfort in the sound of Henry's measured breathing and smile at the way his hair fell over his forehead while he slept. Prince Charming sat down beside the little boy's bed once again. He didn't want to get up.