Chapter 24: Spinning Miracles

Rumplestiltskin sat at the table writing. He had two books out, one dedicated to the memories and experiences of the dark one and another dedicated to spells, potions, and the like. His magic was innate. He could do plenty of things with merely a thought and a wave of his hand; but there were potions and spells ingrained in his mind as well and he had neither the skill nor the materials needed to make any of them. He felt an urge to practice and to get used to brewing potions and bottling magic, but he had no way to make it happen here. He was also insistent on not doing such potentially harmful things near his family, so he buried the desire and focused on getting his mind sorted out first. There would be plenty of time for experimentation later. Perhaps he could create another room on the back of their shack, solely dedicated to his magic. It was something he would have to mention to Belle.

He was in the middle of writing down the steps of a very complicated spell when Baelfire crashed through the door. Rumple grimaced as the quill struck across the page leaving an ugly black mark over the words. Scowling, Rumplestiltskin waved his hand, and the offending line disappeared. "Bae," he said tersely, "Please be more careful when I'm working."

"Sorry, Papa," Bae said as he rushed by, "Morainne wants to play ball so I'll just grab it and go."

"It's almost time for supper," Rumple said, putting the quill down to look at his son. "Your mother will be ready for you soon."

Bae nodded and moved toward the door, "Ten more minutes? I'll be back I promise."

Bae opened the door and glanced back at his father who nodded impatiently at him. Bae let the door slam shut behind him, and Rumple winced at the loud noise. He picked up his quill to finish writing but the spell he'd been focused on was gone. He growled in frustration and slammed the quill down on the table and stood. He didn't even understand half of what the spell required anyway, so what was the point? It was written in the Old Tongue, and even though he could understand it thanks to the embedded memories of the previous Dark Ones, he still did not quite comprehend some of the magic that he was writing down.

He decided it would be best to clear his head, so he sat at his spinning wheel and idly picked up a bundle of wool that was ready to be spun. His hands moved of their own accord, as this motion was more innate than even the magic that consumed him. He learned this skill as a child and had been surprised to find he was very good at it. He remembered the women's words over him; he would spin for kings and queens. No such thing had happened, but he took pride in his work nonetheless. He liked spinning. He'd always been good at it and even with his handicap he'd been able to work and provide for his family.

He watched the wheel spin, and the creaking and steady motion was a salve for his chaotic thoughts. The motion lulled him into a languid state, and his thoughts quieted. Spinning was a solace. He could be productive and clear his mind all at once, and he had so much to make sense of now. He needed the wheel and its almost magical ability to ease his mind more than ever.

He also used the wheel as a coping method. After he was abandoned as a child he would spin for hours on end to try to distance himself from the pain of not being wanted. When the women who raised him died, he spun for days trying to forget the pain he felt at losing the only people who cared for him. Now he spun to forget about the events of the past weeks. The cruelty of Zoso who instilled false hope into him; the Duke of the Frontlands who mocked and ridiculed him. He tried to forget Ebert, even though it had been such a glorious and overdue feeling to stand up to him. He thought back to how it had felt to stop the Duke; he'd never felt so powerful, so in control. The man had been nothing short of a monster, sending children to be slaughtered at the hands of the Ogres. It made Rumplestiltskin sick to think about that, so instead he focused on the crack of the man's neck in his hands. The glorious sensation of knowing he had protected what was his. His mind drifted to the children he saved, and the boy he had not. He recalled Adi, the friend he loved so dearly who had answered the call of duty with gusto and had paid for it with his life. Regret and anger filled Rumplestiltskin as he began to spin faster, hoping he could pour out his grief into the wool itself and be rid of it once and for all. He spun and spun, barring his teeth as pain swelled within him. He could not stop. He would not stop until it was all gone and he was empty and free from all pain-

"Rumple?"

He stopped suddenly when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he glanced up, startled, to see Belle hovering over him with a look of wonder on her face. She pointed with her free hand and he followed her gaze back to his own hands, his eyes widening at what he saw.

"What is that?" Belle asked, her voice a breathy whisper. Rumple lifted his hands to see that he was no longer holding a strand of wool, but instead-

"Gold," Rumplestiltskin whispered in shock, "It's gold."

Belle dropped her basket to the floor and moved to kneel at his side. She stared curiously at the wheel, frowning when she saw the bundle of wool on one end was attached to the rope of gold that now lay in Rumple's green-gold hands. "How?" Belle asked, reaching out hesitantly to touch it. Rumple let some of it fall into her hands, and he grabbed more that had pooled on the ground.

"I-I spun it. Wool…into….gold."

Belle glanced up at him in awe, "Did you know you could do this?"

He shook his head, his hair bouncing as he moved, "No," he said, his voice dry but full of emotion. "I didn't."

"It's incredible," she whispered, dropping the rope in favor of touching her husband's hand, "It's like something out of a book."

Rumple turned to face her and cupped her hands in his, the rope of gold still entwined in his fingers. "Do you know what this means?" He asked suddenly, "Do you know what this means for us?"

"You can make gold," she said simply, "I'd say that makes us the wealthiest family in the village."

He nodded, "Not just the village, sweetheart, but the entire realm. I could make us richer than kings. You and Bae would never want for anything-"

He was cut off by a brief kiss. Belle pulled back and offered Rumple a tentative smile, "We don't want for anything," she assured him firmly, "We've been fine all these years; we don't need anything more than what we have."

"But I could-" Rumple tried to argue but Belle shushed him again.

"We're a family," she stressed, "And while having gold will be nice, we don't need anything else. As long as I have you and Bae, I'll never want for anything."

"But I could finally give you what you deserve, Belle," he cried. He was eager to make her see reason, "I can finally give you all the things you deserve. I can give Bae what he deserves!"

"What you think I deserve, and what I want aren't the same thing, Rumple," she chided softly, "I want you, and I want you to be happy. All Bae wants at this point is for Morainne to notice him. I don't think you can make that happen." She giggled, hoping the jest would lighten his mood. It didn't.

"What would make me happy is to see you in silks and velvets," he said, "I would drape you in diamonds and jewels and give you the largest collection of books unlike the world has ever seen!"

"Then start there," she said with a sigh, "I've no need for silk or velvet. I've never had an occasion to wear a diamond in my life. But you know my weakness; I could never turn away a book."

Pleased, Rumple kissed her hard. She pulled away after a moment and smiled, "But only a few," she instructed, "And only on special occasions." She smiled wistfully, "We don't have the space for all the books I'd like to have."

"Someday you will," Rumple promised, "I'll make sure of it."

~000~

Rumplestiltskin was sitting by the fire, writing in his book. He still couldn't recall the spell from earlier and had instead settled for writing some simpler memories down. Near him, Belle sat next to Bae as the two of them examined the long golden thread.

"Morainne would be amazed at this," Bae said as he ran his fingers over it. Belle shook her head.

"We can't tell anyone," she said gently, glancing up expectantly at her husband to support her decision. He felt her gaze on him and looked up. She gave him a look, and he nodded.

"She's right, son," he said after a moment. Belle continued.

"We don't want every person in the village knocking at our door asking your poor father to spin them gold."

Rumple smiled absently at his wife. She was always so sensible. He pushed the thought aside until later and put his focus back on his writing. He was nearing the end, he could feel it. The thoughts that had once been loud and intruding in his head were now distant echoes that he could summon forth at will. Writing everything down had eased the pressure of remembering, and he could feel his mind growing easy once more.

He reached the last page of his book, which had been a few comments on magic that came from the first Dark One. He wrote quickly, not really focusing on the words themselves as much as getting them down. He felt one final thought come to him, and he dipped his quill in ink, ready to be done with the madness that he'd been living in for the past week and a half. He wrote the words, then stopped, glancing down at them curiously.

The most important thing to remember when dealing in magic is this: All magic comes with a price.

Rumplestiltskin frowned. He remembered Zoso saying that very thing to him before he died. But what did it mean? It made no sense. Surely being the one cursed was payment enough to use the magic. He decided to dwell on it later because he was more interested in paying attention to his family now that his mind was clearer and calmer. If there was a price for using magic, he supposed it would not be too much trouble to pay it. After all, how bad could the cost possibly be?

~000~

Not long after the discovery that he could spin gold, it became an obsession of Rumplestiltskin's. Spinning was his livelihood, so naturally he did it often. But now he could make something worth far more than wool. He did not have to go to the market if he did not wish to. And really, the likelihood that Ebert would want to buy and sell with him now was slim. He'd caused a scene that day at the market, so much so that the people now seemed nervous when he was around. They didn't run screaming, but they did look upon him with a slight uneasiness that he felt more than saw. He said nothing of it to Belle, and he certainly said nothing to Bae. They were adjusting to his change already; he did not want them to be aware of the uneasiness that had quickly smothered out the gratefulness the people of the village had felt when he'd come marching across the border with a horde of children at his side. They were fickle people; their opinions changed faster than the seasons.

Despite Belle's protests, Rumple began to use magic more frequently. It was little things, mostly, like using magic to make the broom come alive and dance around the floor, sweeping up the dust and pushing it out the door. He enchanted their food to last longer, and he cast a spell on their pitcher of water to keep it full and cool. Firewood was chopped with a single sweep of the hand and small treats such as cakes and salted pork began to make their way into the pantry. Belle disapproved of most of it, but when she saw the delight in Bae's eyes over suddenly having more food, she couldn't bring herself to scold Rumplestiltskin.

It was only when he began to leave tokens such as dresses and other fine clothes that she felt the need to say something. Bae was won over by the magic now, and wore his new tunic with pride, enjoying the feel of fresh cotton that had not been patched and worn for as long as he'd been alive. Rumple began to dress differently as well, especially once it began to grow cooler. He now donned a thick red cloak embroidered with gold instead of his old shabby brown one, and though Belle admired the color on him, she still felt it was wrong to display their sudden wealth in such a manner. Especially when the people began to take notice.

However, when Rumplestiltskin presented her with a fine dress, once again blue, and much finer than before, she couldn't help but hold it up to her and twirl, admiring the way the lighter fabric swirled around her. It was still a simple dress, but faint traces of gold were hidden in the fabric. It was the nicest dress Belle had ever seen. Rumple smiled widely at her. He was glad she liked the dress he made for her. He wanted to give her more, but he knew he had to tread carefully. She was wary of his magic, and if he wanted her to accept it, he needed to ease her into getting used to it.

"There's more," Rumplestiltskin whispered to her as she carefully folded the dress to put with her other clothing. It was a fine dress, and she would wear it sparingly.

"I don't need more, Rumple," she sighed as he took her hands in his.

"Just let me spoil my wife," he pleaded. He never made it secret that he longed to give her the world, and even though Belle was reluctant to take it, she could not deny her husband. She loved him far too much to dash his hopes.

"All right," she agreed at length, "Spoil me."

Rumplestiltskin glanced over her shoulder, where Baelfire was sleeping on his bed. He now had a thicker blanket to keep off the chill, and his soft snores suggested he was dead asleep. Rumplestiltskin reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled something out, keeping it wrapped in his hand. Belle waited curiously to see what he was going to give her. Rumple smiled at her affectionately and took her hand in his. "Almost sixteen years ago I married you," he began, "And on that day I wished nothing more than to give you what you deserved."

"I got you Rumple," Belle immediately argued, "That was all I wanted."

"Even still," Rumplestiltskin said, "You deserve to have so much more." He knelt down on his knee before her, a feat he had not been able to easily accomplish in many years and opened his hand. Belle gasped as she laid eyes on a simple gold ring, glimmering elegantly in the candlelight. He slid the ring onto her finger and looked up at her with adoration, "I've always wanted to give you a ring," he admitted, "And what's better is I was able to craft it myself."

"You made this?" Belle asked, lifting her hand to examine the tiny band. It was not elaborate in any way; it was a simple ring, but it brought Belle to tears, and she laughed softly as she grabbed Rumplestiltskin by the collar of his cloak and pulled his up to her. "It's wonderful," she whispered, "Thank you."

"I knew you wouldn't want anything outlandish," he said as he traced the ring with his own shimmering hands, "But all the same, I wanted you to have something."

"I have you," she insisted, "But thank you so much. I'll never take it off."

~000~

Rumple whistled to himself as he made his way casually down the pathway. Belle was at home reading, and Bae was once again out with his friends. Rumple felt restless sitting at the kitchen while Belle was absorbed in her newest book, so he decided to stretch his legs for a while. He walked with no agenda, deciding to let chance dictate his steps. There was no rush, and there was no need to do chores or work tirelessly just to be able to afford a few scraps of food. It was freeing to know his family would be provided for if he cut down on his work load. Bae didn't seem to mind in the least; it freed up his day tremendously as well.

Rumple found himself walking in the direction of Maurice's home and decided to pay the old man a visit. He had not seen the man since his transformation, and it would be a treat to see the man's surprised expression at his son-in-law's appearance. The man was also family; perhaps he would be able to give Rumplestiltskin some advice on dealing with Baelfire. The boy was growing up, and Rumple was beginning to feel the effects of age (and maybe something else) driving a small rift between them. Having no father of his own to relate to, Rumple hoped that Maurice might be able to shed some light on what to do.

Rumple knocked on the door, remembering a time long ago when he stood in front of this very door, flowers in hand, waiting to take Belle to the fair. How far they'd come. Maurice opened the door, looking slightly disheveled. He blinked once, then stared for a long moment before commenting bluntly, "She wasn't lying about you looking different."

Rumple smirked and motioned to be let inside. Maurice moved, allowing him entrance. Rumple quickly made himself at home at the small table and looked at Maurice worriedly. "Are you all right?"

Flushed, Maurice sat down across from Rumple. "'Course I am," he said, "What makes you think otherwise?"

Rumple pointed to his father-in-law, then over to the bag that was filled with clothing and other goods. "You look like you're running away. In a hurry."

Maurice shook his head and sat back with a huff, "Not exactly," he said, "Going on a bit of a trip."

"What sort of trip?" Rumple asked suspiciously. Maurice wasn't one to travel much. Whatever had prompted this was clearly not good. Maurice sighed, realizing Rumplestiltskin wasn't going to give up so easily.

"I'm going in search of work," Maurice said at length. "Much as I hate to admit it, war is good for business, and now that it's done, I'm not getting any work." He chuckled bitterly, "Not that I was getting much to begin with."

"Wars are bad for people, good for business," Rumple mused, and Maurice couldn't help but chuckle dryly at the comment.

"I hear that," he said, pouring Rumple a drink, then one for himself. They touched cups and drank. After a moment, Maurice spoke again. "I'm going to some of the neighboring villages," he said, "See if there's anything for me.

"Belle will be upset if she found out you were keeping this from her. She worries about you."

Maurice smiled sadly, "She shouldn't have to. And anyway, Belle can't help me. I know she'll want to, but that's why I haven't told her." He reached over and poured himself another cup of ale, "I'm an old man; I've lived my life. I'm not going to worry my daughter over my troubles."

"I can help you," Rumple said suddenly. He shouldn't. He and Belle had agreed on that, but something in him desired to help. He had the power to change lives, so why shouldn't he utilize that ability?

Maurice guffawed, "You? My boy, you barely have enough-"

Rumple stood, cutting Maurice off. "I don't have the money," Rumple said simply, "But I can make it."

Maurice's face twisted in confusion, "You're talking madness."

Smiling, Rumple stepped away from the table. "Am I? You forget, I'm the Dark One."

He waved his hand and in the middle of the room burst a cloud of purple smoke. When it vanished, a spinning wheel sat in its place. It was almost identical to the one Rumple had back home, only slightly smaller. Rumple glanced around with a frown. "You don't have any wool, do you?"

Maurice shook his head. "I have straw," he said with a shrug, "But I don't think that-"

"Let me have some."

Baffled by the sudden appearance of a spinning wheel, Maurice stood for a moment before turning and pulling a bundle of straw from a small basket and handed it to Rumplestiltskin. He stuffed the straw into the flyer and began to spin. He focused on his task, and his eyes slipping shut as he recalled the emotions he felt when the miracle first happened. He spun, adding more of the straw as he went and he did not stop until he heard Maurice gasp.

He opened his eyes and glanced down with relief and satisfaction at the gold rope that now shimmered in his hands. Maurice stepped forward cautiously and stroked the rope as well. "By the gods," he explained, looking at Rumplestiltskin in awe. "This is gold."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, his eyes glowing with pride. "Yes."

"Made from straw."

Rumple nodded again, as amazed as Maurice was. He could make gold out of straw. He could spin miracles. Maurice took the rope from Rumple and stared at it in bewilderment for a long time. When he looked up, it was with tears in his eyes. "This is real. Real gold."

"Yes," Rumple nodded. "How much do you want?"

"You could fill this whole room with gold," Maurice marveled, "Does-"

"Belle and Bae know," Rumple interrupted, "No one else."

"And so they shouldn't," Maurice agreed, "The village would break down your door for even an inch of this!"

Again, Rumple nodded. "So you must tell no one."

Standing, still caressing the gold, Maurice agreed. "I'll still go," he said finally, "A man needs to make an honest living."

Rumple spun the wheel a bit more, taking a moment to focus on the task. He pulled out a few feet of gold and cut it away with a breath of magic. After he rolled it around his fingers, he offered the coiled rope to Maurice. "Take this though," he stated, "And enjoy your trip."

Maurice opened his mouth to protest, but Rumple pushed the gold into his hands. "Please," he begged, "I insist. Let me do one good thing for you."

"I hardly deserve it."

"You let me marry Belle. You deserve all the gold I could possibly spin."

Chuckling, Maurice pocketed the gold. "I'll remember you said that."

Nodding, Rumple made the wheel vanish, and turned to leave. Maurice caught his arm. "I'll only be gone a couple days," he explained, "Belle need never know I was gone."

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "I know you don't want her to worry," he acknowledged, "So I will say nothing. Belle will never know you're gone."

Author's Notes:

I'm getting some great theories and questions from you guys! I love knowing your thoughts! (Though don't be surprised if I neither confirm or deny anything. I want you all to be surprised. So, no spoilers! Oh, now I sound like Adam...)

Chapter 25 will be up May 2!

Special thanks to Sirensong24 and my husband (happy birthday, sweetheart!) for looking this over!

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time. All rights belong to ABC and the writers.