A/N: Well, chapter three's ready. This one was fun, and kind of got away from me a little bit, but I managed to reign it in. Hope you enjoy. Once again I own nothing but the plot.

Chapter Three: Spin a Tale, Weave a Web

The shrill whistling of the ancient tea kettle woke Neal from a deep and nightmare filled sleep. The clock on the wall said eleven. He had never slept this late. He sat up, expecting to see the living room of the Swan-Cassidy abode, but as he looked around the room he came back to himself. He'd slept this long because Henry hadn't awakened him. He slept this long because he was back at a place he'd never thought he'd venture to again, and the man that was filling the tea cups was too wracked with the regrets of the past to even chastise him that he might be in the way.

"I was going to wake you." The soft lilt came to Neal's ears. "But I didn't want to disturb your sleep. You seemed as though you needed it."

Neal finally allowed himself to look properly upon the man he hadn't seen since adolescence. He'd played out this moment many times in his head, the moment when he'd meet his father again. Of course none of them involved him crashing at his place after years of not speaking, because his wife had kicked him out. None of them involved his father looking so frail, so put out. None of them involved the text message that was burning a hole in his pocket. All of that aside, Neal was a mixed bag. He didn't know whether to beg forgiveness or start shouting in the old man's face.

"Thanks…" Neal rubbed the drowsiness out of his face, already feeling the effects of the previous afternoon in the form of a thousand dwarf sized hammers. "For that...I mean…"

"No matter." his father waved the hand that wasn't holding a mug. "Won't you join me?"

Neal sighed, nodding as he walked over to the small table sitting across from him. He looked around the apartment. It looked like an extension of the shop with a variety of knick knacks, each having their own mysterious purpose. His old man could up the view count of Hoarders singlehandedly. The expected adornments: photographs, shelf ornaments and table lamps were far outnumbered by eccentricities and baubles. Since the eve of his sixteenth birthday, Neal notes, Aiden Gold managed to acquire at least eight more dream catchers and that was only in these doorways.

"Bae…"

"Don't call me that." The request came out harsher than he intended. Neal would blame the stress of the last few days, but this has been more than a few days in the making if he was completely honest, something Neal Cassidy couldn't say about himself. Not in the same way that Aiden seemed to recall from the boy that had held that other name. It was one of the many things that had made him different. He remembered asking his father why he didn't just use the name Neal. He had to have been no older than eight after he was called into the headmaster's for refusing to answer roll call.

"Papa, why do you call me Baelfire," Neal tapped his lip with his tongue, whooshing the broom around the shop, one of his few chores after school let out. "When everyone else calls me Neal?"

His father looked at him, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Names hold power, more than you can possibly imagine."

Neal frowned leaning against the broom. Why was his father so...so cryptic? Yeah that was the word, from their last vocabulary exam. "Yeah, but why? Nobody else in my class has two names." That wasn't exactly true. The boys teased each other by using both names when they got into fights, but none of the others' second names were as weird as Baelfire. It was usually something ordinary like James, Michael, or Ethan. and his Papa never used Baelfire when he got into trouble. He was always Neal Samuel Gold. So he actually had about… too many names, but this wasn't something he was proud of. It made him feel funny.

"Did I ever tell you what your name means?" His Papa's voice jumped in that way that signalled a story.

"Which one?" Neal grinned.

"Cheeky!" Papa got behind him scooping him up and tickling until he couldn't breathe.

"I give up, I give up!"

Courage, a blazing bonfire. Neal, Baelfire. "I call you Bae, Baelfire, so that you never let that spark go out." At the time, Neal had thought his father's logic amazing, like a secret between the two of them, but as he got older, he began to hate the name. It brought out teasing from the boys that had once been his best friends. His father's occupation became less of an adventure and more of an embarrassment. "Your pop's nothing but a loony wizard! You aren't at Hogwarts Gold. He just leaves you cause you're a freak just like he is. He can't stand you." So, it was definitely safe to assume that his harshness came from years rather than days.

"I'm sorry... Neal." Just like that Aiden Gold folded. He could see that the man was struggling to broach the next topic for discussion slender fingers tapping the mug as he scrolled through an immense calendar in his mind, days, months, ages. "How's the boy?"

He assumed this a safe subject even as the distance seemed to broaden rather than shrink. Henry, Neal's pride, his constant joy. But… Neal noticed again. Aiden's grandson was always the boy, never Henry, never his name. For all his talk of names having power. "Henry… his name's Henry." Neal's voice broke as the events came back. "And...I don't know."

A quirking of an eyebrow was the only response Neal received, along with an accompanying hum. His father rose to his feet and grabbed a second mug pouring the liquid in as a blend of spices reached Neal's nose. The second mug was set in front of him as finally, finally, the man spoke. "This wouldn't have anything to do with why you were in front of the shop at Hell's hour?"

Hell's hour. This was another oddity. Aiden Gold believed in a number of things that Neal couldn't quite understand, a superstitious old fool. A wizard. That was his father.

"Midnight Pop." He hesitated nodding more to himself than Aiden. "Yeah. She kicked me out." He stated this as a fact, quick and painless, even though it was anything but. He didn't want to cry in front of this man. He couldn't let himself get comfortable, otherwise he wouldn't be able to make himself do what needed to be done. Distance and resentment were his best allies.

Emma walked ahead to the kitchen table, unsure at the moment. She felt more like a little girl than ever, even more so than the young boy that was stomping, giant glomping and purposely angry steps after his uncle. David wore his serious business face, a face he had inherited from their mother, a gentle woman at any other time, but one who excelled at explaining serious matters and was equally apt at delivering swift marks if the matter required such. Unlike Emma, David wasn't a parent, but anyone who didn't know him and was observing the moment wouldn't be able to guess by the way he lifted a kicking Henry who was trying to run off, and placed him in the kitchen chair between himself and Emma.

"We're going to talk about this," David walked around to the counter grabbing a cereal bowl with the image of one of the cartoon dwarves, the one that didn't speak if Emma remembered correctly, which made what her brother said next, in a purposely and exceedingly goofy king like voice even more ironic. "Anyone who isn't holding this bowl has to listen-"

"David. I don't think…"

He held up a hand looking at Emma. "Has to listen to what the bowl bearer is saying without interruptions."

Henry laughed. "You got in trouble Mommy!"

Emma shook her head, smiling in spite of it all. Even in her own house, David managed to make her feel like such a kid.

David walked over taking his place at the table. "Alright, Henry tell Mom and I what's bothering you." He placed the bowl on the table, sliding it over to the boy like a hockey puck.

Emma had prepared herself. She thought she had, so why was she feeling like she was tied up, like she couldn't escape? As Henry's eyes met hers, she felt all of the old instincts returning: the urge to run. She didn't want to hear this. Only David's grip on her arm, a reassuring squeeze, and Henry's eyes, so eerily like his but full of trust rather than closing her off pushing her away, kept her in that kitchen seat as her son spoke. "Why did you make Daddy leave?"

A whoosh as the bowl slid her way. Reflex warred with instinct as she held it, wanting to push it away, wanting to break it if she could, break the bowl instead of his faith in her instead of his respect for his father, the man he so admired. How was she supposed to answer this? "Kid…" Deep breath. "He had a job to do." The lie rolled off so naturally that by the time she had spoken, she'd already come up with a background story. She ignored David's eyes on her as she continued, her superpower protesting the whole way, sounding an awful lot like her best friend. You're digging yourself into a hole Miss Swan. "The fire department called him to go to the city. You know he fights fires right?"

Henry nodded. It was true. He'd seen his daddy wearing the blue safety shirt, seen his fire boots, and the helmet that made him sound like Darth Vader.

Emma sighed in relief, Henry seemed to buy it. Never mind that Neal was only a volunteer firefighter. It served her purposes. And he'd come to a heroic end in her son's eyes. All she would have to do is spin a little tale.

Later, Emma sent Henry to his room to do his reading for Mary Margaret's class. Now it was only her and David.

"What the hell was that Emma?" David sat on the couch running his hands through his hair.

"What was I supposed to do? I am not going to turn Henry against his father. He may be a jerk to me, but…" She was near tears. "What he did do, he did right. I don't want to ruin that."

"And when he doesn't come back?" David said. "Then what?"

"I'll make something up."

"Emma!"

Her shoulders shook, her voice came out choked. "Please... David…"

David shook his head "Em… what you're asking… it's insane."

"If you won't help me, at least do it for Henry." Emma said.

"I'll call Leroy." David sighed. "Tell him to spread the word."

"Thank you David!" Emma gave her brother a hug.

Don't thank me yet. David returned the embrace. Emma's schemes still made him nervous, and this one, this one took the cake.

A/N: Alright, so Emma made quite the situation for herself. How do you think that'll turn out? What do you think's up with Gold and Neal? Next chapter we find out what Neal's doing as he reconnects with an old friend and jump to Monday with Henry at school as Mary Margaret tries to help him.