A/N: the Regina flashback in this chapter takes place before her misadventure with Tinker Bell.

Chapter Forty-One—"The More Things Change…"

Her first day at the diner was…interesting. Mary Margaret had been a meticulous teacher, always well organized and never one to let her class spiral out of control. She'd always had a plan and never needed to deviate from it. Because of that, she was used to having things just so while at work, which meant that working at the diner was a shock.

Lunch hour at Granny's was barely organized chaos. Mary Margaret handled breakfast okay, particularly since Ruby was showing her the ropes and she didn't have to wait any tables by herself, but one of the other waitresses called out sick at lunch, which meant she was promptly thrown off the deep end and left to serve the back tables on her own. Granny had laughed when Mary Margaret had expressed concern, pointing out that none of the repeat customers were going to get their noses too out of joint if she messed up their orders, and if they did, just to send them her way so that she could straighten them out. Forcibly, if need be. Feeling more grateful for the support than words could express, Mary Margaret did her best, but her head was spinning by the time the bulk of the lunch crowd walked out.

"Having fun yet?" Ruby asked, coming up next to her with a smile. Mary Margaret was trying hard not to lean on the counter, but her feet were killing her and she had had no idea that waiting tables could be this hard. Still, she managed to give her friend a tired smile.

"I think so. It's just…a lot for the first day."

"Relax," the redhead replied lightly. "You're doing great. Really."

Mary Margaret sure didn't feel like she was, but at least no one had yelled at her. "Honestly?"

"Really," Ruby repeated, reaching out to give her a half hug. "Now, Granny said you can go take a break and get something to eat. Meals are on the house when you're working. Did you know that?"

"Um, no. I didn't…really?" she couldn't help asking, hating how foolish she felt, but everything was so new.

"Really. Just don't eat like Leroy and no one will complain," the other waitress joked, and Mary Margaret finally was able to grin back. Leroy seemed to be making up for lost time since his release from the asylum, and Mary Margaret had heard Granny complain that he was going to empty her freezer all by himself with his appetite.

"I don't think I could manage that," she replied, her smile feeling natural for the first time all day.

"Well, then, you should be fine. Go on, I'll cover your tables while you're eating. I'll get something when you're done."

"Thanks, Ruby," Mary Margaret said feelingly, and turned to head into the back, reaching to untie her apron strings as she went. But then someone new walked into the diner, and Mary Margaret froze.

"Will wonders never cease?" the mayor said acidly, her eyes fastened on Mary Margaret. "Are they actually letting you touch peoples' food, Miss Blanchard? Remind me never to sit at your tables. I'd be terrified you'd poison me."

A hush fell over the diner, and Mary Margaret felt like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. She'd never understand why Cora hated her so much, but the mayor obviously did, and she seemed to delight in finding ways to humiliate Mary Margaret. After all, no one in town doubted who had put Francis Scadlock up to writing that horrible article that accused Mary Margaret of killing her father, even though there wasn't a shred of evidence to support that charge. The D.A. had even publically said he wasn't going to press charges! Mary Margaret was grateful for that, of course, but she was also thoroughly sick of Cora's inexplicable vendetta. She'd never been one for revenge, and firmly believed in taking the moral high ground, but enough was enough. So, she squared her shoulders and looked the mayor in the eye, digging up courage from somewhere deep inside herself.

"Madam Mayor, did I wrong you in a past life?" she asked, briefly thinking of this curse that Henry believed everyone was under. "Because you seem to dedicate an inordinate amount of time to making me miserable, and I, for one, think that time could be better spent making this town better. Don't you?"

Cora actually went a little white with anger, although she controlled her expression remarkably well. "What I do is my business, dear," she snapped. "And this town is my business, not yours."

"I never said it was," Mary Margaret shrugged. "I was just voicing a concern. I don't think you've made that illegal yet, have you?"

"Of course not," the mayor said coolly, obviously back on balance. "I simply think that most people have more sense than to listen to an adulteress and a murderer."

"I didn't kill my father!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself.

"That anyone can prove," was the smooth response. And then a smile. "Yet."

"I—"

"That's enough!" Granny's voice cut through the argument, and Mary Margaret was glad for the interruption. The old woman had stalked in from the back, and now stood behind the counter with her hands on her hips, glaring at Cora. "Madam Mayor, if you are here to order something, please sit down and do so. Otherwise, stop harassing my employees."

Mary Margaret could have hugged Granny for the way Cora stared at her in shock, even if the expression only lasted for a moment. "Clearly, you and I need to have a talk about your hiring standards," the mayor hissed.

Granny just snorted. "There's no law on the books for that, lady. I checked."

"But there are plenty of others, Mrs. Lucas," Cora retorted, her back straight and eyes blazing. "Don't think I can't find one to shut your precious little diner down."

"My landlord's a lawyer," Granny replied with a shrug. "And given how profitable we are for him, I think that he'll be happy to help us stay open. Try barking up another tree."

If Mary Margaret had ever seen Cora that angry, she couldn't remember when. Still, a strange voice in the back of her mind told her that this was nothing; Cora could do far, far worse. Now, however, the mayor stared at Granny as if wishing she could burn her to ash by nothing more than the force of her glare. The innkeeper, however, just looked back at her as if bored, and it was Cora who finally gave. Without a further word, the mayor turned and strode out of the diner, obviously plotting murder—though not literally, of course—but out of witty retorts. Mary Margaret could only gape, because she couldn't remember anyone having gotten the best of Cora, even Emma, and someone had just done it to defend her.

"Thank you," she said, turning to face Granny.

The old woman smiled. "Say nothing of it, girl. You were doing fine on your own. I just provided a bit of backup."

There was nothing Mary Margaret could say to that; she just stepped behind the counter and hugged Granny tightly, feeling like she had more than one friend for the first time in a very long time.

2 Years Before the Curse

The rest of the wedding went by without a hitch, thankfully. The bishop led Snow and James through the rest of their vows, and just like that, they were married. It was a huge and showy affair, nothing like Regina's own tiny ceremony with Daniel thirteen years earlier, but it was the way the bride and groom looked at one another that really mattered. That, and the way Cora had been run out of the wedding by a werewolf, of all people! Regina couldn't hold back her own little smirk every time she thought of that; she had no idea that Snow had somehow befriended a wolf girl, but she was certainly not going to argue. In fact, she was still gloating inside about watching her mother get bitten. The horrified expression on Cora's face was a sight she was going to treasure for a long, long time.

"So," she said bluntly, walking up to Red as the wedding banquet got into full swing. "You're the wolf."

The girl turned to size her up, looking Regina straight in the eye. "And you're the Dark Princess."

Regina shrugged. "I'm still trying to find out who came up with that title. It's not very fitting," she replied, gesturing at her own pale blue dress.

"You are the one who gave Snow a poisoned apple," Red pointed out, her expression none too friendly.

"Snow knows why I did that," Regina replied stiffly, deciding that she could admire the wolf without liking her one bit. "And I think that's between the two of us, don't you?"

"I think that if you try anything like that again, I'll bite you worse than I did your mother."

Regina laughed. "I wouldn't blame you if you did," she said honestly, glad to see that Snow had earned such loyalty, even if it was from an obnoxious peasant. "Snow is my sister, and I'm no danger to her. I'm not my mother."

Red nodded stiffly, tensing when King George headed their way. "You'd better not be," she said, and retreated.

Regina, of course, had no such option. She had to turn to face her sister's father-in-law and sweep him a respectful curtsey like the princess her mother had made her into; she was too well-bred to do anything else. She didn't have to like him, however, though Regina did at least admire the fact that George's very competent armies were currently pushing her mother's forces back, slowly turning the tide of the war in George's favor. She'd never known Leopold well, or at least not before her mother had enchanted him so nastily, but she rather thought that her late stepfather would prefer George's son ruling the kingdom by Snow's side to Cora keeping it. Leopold would certainly be happy for Snow today, a thought that made Regina sneak a glance her younger sister's way. Snow was still glowing with happiness, and yes, that made this mess worth it.

I only hope that I can feel that way someday, she thought to herself, remembering the short time she'd been happy with Daniel. But Daniel still lived, and Regina was even able to share her life with him. In a way. Cora might have given him rooms in the palace, but he was still obviously a servant, in no way considered Regina's equal. Someday, perhaps when Snow won, Regina would be able to overturn the annulment of their marriage. That hope kept her going, kept her mouth shut when Cora demanded her allegiance, and gave Regina the strength to face the future. Her heart would always be with her sister, no matter what her mother made her do, and she hoped George could appreciate that.

"We need to talk, Princess," George said bluntly, and Regina allowed him to lead her to a quiet corner of the room. He wanted her to betray her mother, of course, which she would not do—she couldn't, not without endangering Daniel. But that didn't mean she couldn't help in small ways.

In the end, she and George came to an understanding.

Gold's kept woman really was quite easy on the eyes, Killian reflected, crossing the street to catch up with Lacey French as she walked out of Storybrooke park, holding her little girl by the hand. Her constant shadow was there as well, and the pirate would have given his left hand to be able to tell Dove what a monster he worked for. After all, that left hand was definitely not his original hand, given that it lacked the scars on the knuckles that Killian remembered too well—along with the courtesan that had given them to him—and it would have been nice to pry Gold's loyal henchman away from him. But the curse hadn't made Dove into an intellectual genius, which meant Killian had to wait for the half-giant looking man to remember before he could count on him steering well clear of Rumplestiltskin.

The same, however, should not be said for Lacey French. She was a pretty thing, particularly when she smiled, and there was something in her blue eyes that Killian really did find quite attractive. She seemed more confident now, and was certainly better dressed, bedecked in designer clothes that probably cost as much as she used to earn in a month. So, Gold likes his whore to dress prettily, Killian thought without much surprise. I suppose that might help her stomach being with the monster. Designer clothes or no, Lacey French deserved better, and Killian supposed that he owed her something for almost having burned her to death. Like a warning. He still felt guilty about that, and had certainly bought Errol Forrester plenty of drinks to give his silent thanks to the firefighter for saving all three lives that day.

"Miss French, do you have a moment?" he asked, falling into stride next to her and ignoring the suspicious glance Dove was giving him.

"Of course. It's…Mr. O'Malley, right?" she asked, and Killian flashed her a smile.

"Captain O'Malley, actually." The correction was half automatic and half designed to impress; what woman didn't like a man who had his own ship, after all? Very few, in Killian's experience.

Lacey, however, laughed. "Right."

"I'll get straight to the point, love," he replied, putting on his best open-and-honest face. "I'd like to offer you a job."

"I have a job," the young woman replied, blinking. Her surprise made her stop cold, and Killian was glad for it; he'd rather not carry on this conversation while walking about town, and the smaller audience, the better.

"Mamma?" the little girl asked, and Lacey looked down.

"We'll go home in a minute, honey," she said, and although Killian rather admired most mothers, he decided then and there that she couldn't hold a candle to Emma Swan. I really need to stop thinking about her, particularly now, he thought. Apparently, his attempt to divert himself away from his present distraction was not going to work, or at least not like this.

"Go to shop?" was the immediate response, which made Lacey chuckle.

"Only if you're good and let me finish my conversation with Mr. O'Malley."

"Okay!"

Killian had waited as patiently as he could, but he was glad when Lacey turned to look at him once more.

"I'm sorry," she said with a charming smile. "She's three."

"It's no problem at all, love," he reassured her, and watched a strange tick cross Lacey's face. Interesting. She doesn't seem to like that word. Making a mental note, Killian continued: "I realize you are currently…employed with Mr. Gold, but I'd like to offer you something better."

"Offering me something better would be difficult since you don't know the details of my current job," she answered, blue eyes focused on him rather intently.

"Tell me the details and I'll be sure to do better, then."

That seemed to make Lacey uncomfortable. "Mr. Gold…prefers to keep that between us."

And you're going to try to tell me that you're not his whore. Right, the pirate thought. Not that he had anything against women who sold themselves; in this case, he rather admired Lacey's intelligence in finding the richest man in town to act as her benefactor and somehow managing to keep his attention. Gold had never seemed interested in women, but Lacey had finagled her way straight into his house, designer clothes, and what appeared to be a very comfortable life. Had she done that with anyone other than Gold, Killian would have cheered her on, but Gold was the demon he'd wanted to kill, and this girl had no idea what she'd gotten herself into.

"Then I'll simply have to guess," he said with a dismissive shrug. "I'll put it to you straight, lass. I'll offer you a job at the marina, pay enough to take care of you and your daughter both—with money to spare—and an apartment on the upper floor that's very nice. With no unpleasant strings attached."

He figured she'd get the hint on the last part. Killian didn't want her to sleep with him, not unless she wanted to, anyway. And he certainly wasn't making it a condition of the job offer. Not that I'd mind taking another woman off the Dark One. It would serve him right, even if this girl can't hold a candle to my Milah. Lacey was not, however, a fool, and he could see that she'd understood him in the way her back straightened and she met his eyes squarely.

"Thank you for the offer, Mr. O'Malley, but Renee and I really are quite happy where we are," she said, and now it was Killian's turn to blink. What kind of idiot was the girl?

"Look, I know what kind of man Gold is, and—"

"No. You don't," Lacey cut him off, her voice firm.

For a moment, Killian could only stare. "Love, he's a monster. He might play at being the gentlemen, but sooner or later your heart is going to wind up in his hands, and he'll—he'll not treat it kindly at all."

Now was not the time to think of the horrified and pained look on Milah's face, to think of the love in her eyes when she said her last words to him. He was trying to be a gentleman and warn Lacey French off, even offering to take care of her. It was the right thing to do, and he was trying to if she was stupid enough to stand by Gold, Killian wasn't going to be held responsible for what happened.

"Thank you for the offer," Lacey said again, all politeness but with a hard edge in her voice that it was impossible to miss, "but I'm afraid I must decline."

"If he's threatening you…" Killian trailed off, allowing Lacey to fill in the gaps. But she only shook her head.

"He isn't, but I appreciate the concern. Everyone's concern." The irony in the last two words was quiet, but it was there all the same, and he could sense annoyance. Bending down, Lacey picked her daughter up, making the little girl giggle with delight. "Have a good day, Mr. O'Malley."

Captain, he thought belatedly, but didn't say it as she—and her silent shadow—strode off, heading towards the demon's shop. After a moment, Killian shrugged to himself. He'd tried. He'd given her an opportunity to get away from Gold, and the girl had refused even his most gentlemanly efforts. Be it on her own head, then. Not everyone wanted to be saved, and if she was with Gold willingly, well, that was that. He supposed that it was time to figure out if Gold really liked her, or if she was just a possession, some pretty thing he liked to own.

Doing that was certainly preferable to the job Cora had given him the previous evening, at least. The Evil Queen really was living up to her name lately, and even if Killian didn't enjoy doing her bidding, now was hardly the time to defy her. Particularly not when her decision, distasteful as it was, had served him as well as it had served her. Unlike the French girl, Cora was no fool, and she was a thousand steps ahead of the sheep who she had cursed twenty-eight years earlier. And they were all sheep, this town, sleepwalking through life, even now that time had started moving. They let her manipulate them, and no one fought back. All but one.

Blonde hair caught his eye, and Killian found himself smiling without meaning to. Emma Swan was nothing like the rest of this stilted little town, and he liked that about her. He was not sure, however, that he liked her companion nearly as much, however; seeing who Emma was with gave him pause. Did Cora know that her beloved daughter was spending time with the Savior? Of course, the two of them appeared to be watching their mutual son head towards the park to play with some friends, but they still made an odd pair. Killian watched them for a moment, wondering if he should wander closer to eavesdrop on their conversation and then deciding not to.

Perhaps Cora would like to know about this. Her gratitude was always useful, and there were many things Killian wanted. Many things indeed.

"I had the strangest conversation today," Belle said to her husband that evening as they washed the dishes. She rather liked the very homey environment of working in the kitchen together; it was so different than in the Dark Castle, where magic did all the work (particularly after Rumplestiltskin refused to let her clean), but Belle found Rumple's domestic qualities very endearing. Watching him do the dishes was actually rather adorable.

"Oh?" he asked, holding a hand out for a dishrag with which to dry the pan he'd made stir fry in, and Belle handed it over.

"Yeah. The fellow who owns the marina—what's-his-name O'Malley—offered me a job," she told him, and watched Rumplestiltskin tense. When he answered, his voice dropped dangerously.

"Did he now?"

"It was kind of sweet, if a little creepy," Belle replied with a shrug, but her eyes were on the suddenly closed-off expression Rumplestiltskin wore. "Why are you worried?"

"He's dangerous, sweetheart," was the immediate answer, but Belle could hear the legions of words left unsaid.

She gave him a hard look. "And? Who is he?"

"A pirate. One who…crossed paths with me long ago," he answered evasively, but apparently Rumplestiltskin had forgotten that she'd weaseled that story out of him years earlier. Not without a lot of effort, or a lot of clamming up on his part, but he had eventually told her the truth about what had happened to his first wife, and about the pirate who had stolen her away.

"Hook? He's Hook?" she asked, and got a choppy nod in response. "Why would he be talking to me, then? Unless he has his memories…?"

"I believe he does, yes." Rumplestiltskin's face contorted into a sneer. "He must have made some sort of deal with Cora prior to the curse, though I have no idea what. And that means he's a danger to you. If he—"

She put a hand on his arm to calm his temper before it could start to rage, but the gesture did little good until Belle snatched the pan he'd forgotten to finish drying out of his grasp, put it on the counter, and grabbed both of her husband's hands in her own. "He offered me a job, Rumple. He didn't try to defile me, or steal me away. And besides, it wouldn't work, anyway." Belle gave him a conciliatory smile. "I'm only interested in you."

"I know that," he snapped defensively, trying to pull away. Belle didn't let him, and after a moment, Rumplestiltskin sighed. "But I don't trust him. He's out for revenge, and while he probably can't kill me, he wouldn't ever hesitate to go after those I love."

"Like Cora," she said softly, thinking back on when they'd first married, when Rumple had told her how many enemies he had and had warned her that many of them would want to hurt her. Belle understood that—the incident with the Cyan fairy had made the point rather well—but Storybrooke was so much smaller than the Enchanted Forest had been, and those enemies seemed to be everywhere.

Not that knowing about his enemies would ever make Belle flinch away from her husband. Rumplestiltskin was her True Love, and she would fight for him no matter what happened. But knowing what was going on certainly helped, and there were times that she knew her cagey husband needed to be cornered into answering. Now appeared to be one of them; he sighed quietly and just nodded, offering no additional information and clearly hoping she'd change the subject. Belle knew how unhappy talking about what Cora did to him made Rumple, and she wasn't going to press that topic tonight, or at least not directly. But the encounter with the pirate turned marina owner—who was either trying to steal her or 'rescue' her—had made her think of a lot of things, and she wasn't in the mood to let him evade tonight.

"What is it between you two?" Belle asked, tugging him closer to her. When he limped a step and swayed slightly, she gave herself a mental smack; she was always forgetting about the leg that had never been a problem back home, except during their blissful stay in Amorveria. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." His smile was slight, but he bent to kiss the crook of her neck, and Belle shivered as warm breath tickled her bare skin. Somehow her foolish mistake had decreased the tension between them, and Rumplestiltskin looked more tired than frustrated now. "You know I'll forgive you anything."

"Just like I'll forgive you for any of your past misdeeds," she reminded him, turning so that her forehead rested against his. A slight shudder ran through Rumplestiltskin, and then Belle felt him relax as she squeezed his hands again. "No matter how terrible you think you are."

"Belle…"

He said nothing more, so she shifted slightly to kiss him on the cheek, watching his eyes shut. Rumplestiltskin hated talking about Cora, and Belle hated pushing him into it, but she needed to know. And she wasn't in the mood to let him evade, either, so she ignored the unspoken plea to leave the subject alone.

"Please tell me," she whispered. "Whatever it is, I won't hold it against you, Rumple. I promise."

His answer was to bark out a snort of laughter. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes," she said more emphatically than she meant to, and then nestled her forehead against his once more to lessen the sting of her snapping. "Please. I need to understand."

She needed to understand why Cora hurt Rumple so badly. He'd told her more than once that it was about power, that Cora did it because she could, but Belle had seen too many of the wounds to fool herself into thinking there was not something intensely personal about them. No woman did that to a man who meant nothing to her. There was too much anger evident in the burns and gashes, and Rumplestiltskin's reaction to them was too…not quite broken, but wounded in a very emotional way. The pain frightened him, Belle knew, but the emotional damage was far worse than just the pain.

"I almost married her," Rumplestiltskin whispered, his voice almost too quiet for Belle to hear. Still, she almost jerked back—and could feel that he was expecting her to—in surprise.

"You what?"

Belle could feel his wince. "I almost married her. I…I loved her, once."

"Oh, Rumple." Suddenly, everything made sense. He'd told her once that Cora had ripped her own heart out, but if Rumplestiltskin had loved her… "Is that why you were so convinced that no one could love you?"

"I never said—"

"You never had to," she cut him off gently, and Belle felt him start to withdraw, mentally as much as physically, so she squeezed his hands. "What happened?"

"She was a miller's daughter," he explained after a moment. "Nothing and no one important. She got caught sneaking into a royal ball, and the king was going to put her to death. But then she boasted that she could spin straw into gold, and..."

"And so you taught her," Belle picked up when he trailed off, and he nodded. "And you fell in love with her."

"She was going to run away with me," Rumplestiltskin continued, his voice so very quiet. "Forget the prince who the king had promised her. But instead she ripped her own heart out and chose power."

"She broke your heart."

"I think so. I don't know." He shrugged again, and Belle kissed him on the cheek once more, impressed by his honesty. She knew it didn't come easily to him, telling her things like this, and she was so proud of him. "I think I loved the idea of her as much as I loved Cora. She was delightfully dark. She spoke to the worst parts of me, made my curse rage in passion. I knew she wanted me for my power as much as anything else, but I…I thought it was the best I could ever get."

Those last words stunned Belle into silence, and she pulled back to look at him, hearing the heartbroken loneliness in his voice. She'd known that Rumple was so lonely when she came to live with him, had known that he had had no light in his life for so very long, but hearing him say that so brokenly was still a shock. No wonder he'd been so surprised that she loved him. He hadn't thought he was worthy of love, had he?

"I love you," Belle whispered fiercely, leaning in to kiss him hard and feeling Rumplestiltskin respond to her passion almost desperately. His hands came up to cup her face, and for a moment, Belle felt him tremble. "And I will always love you."

"I love you, too," he replied, one of his hands tangling in her hair while the other arm wrapped around Belle and pulled her close. "I never knew it could feel like this. Belle, please believe me when I say that what I had with Cora was nothing like—"

"I know," she cut him off, snaking her arms around his neck and holding him tightly. "You don't have to tell me that, Rumple, I know."

And now she knew why what Cora did to him hurt him so badly. He'd loved that horrible woman, loved her in the hesitant and lonely way he'd known how to love back then, and Cora had broken his heart. But if that hadn't done damage enough, now Cora was hurting him in the most intimate way possible, raping him and abusing him when he couldn't fight back. Belle knew enough about his life before becoming the Dark One to know how very badly that brought up all of his old demons, to know how determined Rumplestiltskin was to never be helpless again. Did Cora know that, too? She had to. And she was doing this, anyway, intentionally hurting him when she had once been someone who he had trusted. A chill ran down Belle's spine. The fact that she thinks he's Gold doesn't make a difference, Belle decided coldly. She knows who he really is, and knows how he'd feel about that. And Gold hated being helpless, too.

Belle had only ever given her husband permission to kill once. She'd always tried to talk him out of it—and succeeded—because Belle felt that killing wasn't the answer. But in this case, she knew she wouldn't stop him from killing the Evil Queen. Belle wanted her dead as badly as Rumplestiltskin did, and if that made her a terrible person, she was willing to accept that. No one hurt her husband like this and got away with it. No one.

4 Years, 5 months Before the Curse

It was his own damn fault. He'd been arrogant, and now Rumplestiltskin was going to pay the price. He'd come to this village when its desperate sheriff had called him to deal with a menace, and like an idiot, he'd brought Belle along. It was the second time he'd brought her somewhere since that mess with Robin Hood, and Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure why he'd done it. The invitation had just popped out of his mouth with no warning, and next he knew, Rumplestiltskin was bringing his maid along to Alsfeld. He'd managed to rationalize himself into thinking that it was a decent idea; Belle could shop for potions ingredients for him whilst he dealt with the wolf problem that the town's sheriff had called him in to solve. It seemed simple and straightforward, and the fact that it would make his maid happy had nothing whatsoever to do with his decision.

Unfortunately, making a deal with the stingy sheriff had taken far longer than Rumplestiltskin expected, and by the time he heard the shouts and screams from the townspeople, it was almost too late. Had Belle not called his name—clever girl that she was; she whispered his name instead of shouting it, but the quiet fear in her voice fueled that call so strongly that it might as well have been a scream—he might never have made it to her in time, but she did, which meant he teleported away from the suddenly panicked sheriff and appeared at his maid's side in the blink of an eye.

Concern for her safety had nothing to do with the speed with which he arrived. He merely assumed that the Alsfeld Wolves had simply appeared for their weekly culling of the residents. Still, Rumplestiltskin landed right next to Belle, his feet landing in the snow with a crunch, arriving in time to yank her away from a wolf that had suddenly leapt right at her. She yelped and stumbled against him, getting her feet tangled in his and almost bringing both of them down in a heap. But his curse endowed him with excellent reflexes, and Rumplestiltskin merely steadied his maid and swept his right hand upwards, magic sparking out of his fingers and speeding out at the wolf who had lunged so hungrily. The red wave of power zeroed in on its target and should have slain the wolf then and there, but it bounced away.

"They're werewolves!" Belle cried; the clever girl had noticed, too, but at the moment, Rumplestiltskin had no time to admire her quick mind.

"Not now!" he snarled, twisting to watch the three now-circling wolves. Quickly, he dug into the recesses of his mind to recall everything he'd ever read about those under the curse of the wolf, once called loup-garou but now known by the more common name. A fourth wolf joined them, and then a fifth, and the townspeople were rushing away to hide in their homes and shops.

Reptilian eyes narrowing, the Dark One watched the wolves, his mind whirling through centuries of knowledge. Some defensive spells would work on them, but fool that he was, he had just agreed to save the town from the creatures—whom the sheriff had not mentioned were more than mere wolves. Had he known? If he had, their agreement was null and void, but Rumplestiltskin would dispose of the creatures firstand then dispose of the sheriff, if need be. But defensive magic would not do that, and using magic to slay the creatures, as he had originally intended, was out. There were a few spells that would kill the loup-garou, but they all took extensive preparation and were not something he could whip out in the next few hours. For a moment, he contemplated negotiating with the creatures, but one look at the burning golden eyes of the pack leader dismissed that idea.

No, these wolves had learned that humans made good pack mates and better meat, and that meant that Rumplestiltskin was bound by his own agreement to defeat them. But how to do so?

"No one's going to help us, are they?" a quiet voice asked from behind him, and Rumplestiltskin had almost forgotten about his little maid. But how could he forget her when her shoulder was all but touching his, the one person in this entire world who did not shy away from his touch?

He giggled in response, mostly for the benefit of the wolves—who were clearly in full possession of their facilities and simply chose to act like animals. "We're not the ones who need help, dearie," he reminded Belle, never taking his eyes off of the pack.

One lunged forward, and Rumplestiltskin threw up the strongest defensive shield he could muster. The wolf bounced, but not nearly as quickly as it should have; dark magic had less effect on loup-garou than light magic, but Rumplestiltskin was a creature of darkness, too. He could do light magic, but it was hard to fight his curse like that, and when that demon's voice cackled and giggled with rage inside his mind, summoning up enough love and protective magic was well-nigh impossible. Belle's yelp from behind him made him spin to cast the same spell again, and the second wolf was thrown back when its teeth were less than two inches from Belle's arm.

"Can you stop them?" Belle asked quickly, sounding afraid. "I know magic doesn't always work against—"

"Of course I can," he reassured her, his voice lower pitched than usual, almost human sounding. Rumplestiltskin realized that after he'd spoken, and he shook himself. Don't get attached! the curse reminded him harshly. You're a demon. She's beautiful. She'll never care for you. She only wants you to protect her.

The problem was that Rumplestiltskin wanted to protect Belle, no matter how derisive his curse felt about that.

"All right," she replied, a little breathless but calmer than a moment before. He could feel the smile she turned on him, and wasted precious moments glancing at her to bathe in its warmth. "I trust you."

Belle trusted him.

But she shouldn't.

He was a monster, plain and simple. And she was his maid, not his friend, but Rumplestiltskin still summoned up all the strength he had to protect her when all five wolves came in at the same time, obviously having coordinated the attack while he was distracted by his little maid's adorable smile. Two wolves went for Belle while the other three dove at him, but Rumplestiltskin still focused his defensive magic on protecting her. If asked why he'd done that, he would never have had the courage to admit the truth to himself, but when acting on instinct, that was the choice he made. Somehow, the magic stopped the wolves cold several feet away from her, and then he whirled to cast the same shield to protect himself—only to find that it failed. Dramatically. Too late, he realized that the he'd used to defend Belle had been fueled by the emotions he felt for his maid…emotions he did not feel for himself.

Love.

He loved her, even if she would never—should never!—love him. And that love had lent him strength, lent him power. Rumplestiltskin had never realized that he could do light magic so easily; his curse was still screaming in protest, but its objections were somewhat muted. That was the magic that had raced out to protect Belle, but Rumplestiltskin could not hold onto that love and that worry to protect himself.

Claws tore at his left thigh before the dark magic he called up could throw up a wall between himself and the wolves, and Rumplestiltskin twisted away from the wolf, hissing in pain. Razor-sharp, the claws cut straight through leather and into scaled skin, but he managed to evade the snapping teeth by teleporting a few inches to the right. His shield caught the other two wolves less than a foot away from where he and Belle stood, but Rumplestiltskin felt the magic shuddering and shaking, fracturing slowly. Those cursed to be wolves, whilst in loup-garou form, were magical creatures, just as he was—and they could build up a resistance to magic. Particularly dark magic.

Digging deeper into the vast reservoir of his curse, Rumplestiltskin lashed out, and the resulting blast threw the wolves back a dozen feet—but not for long. Two rolled with the impact, but the other three landed on their feet, and they came at him again, snarling defiance as Rumplestiltskin gathered more magic to himself.

For once in his life, he was too slow. The magic came at his call quickly, but not quickly enough. The wolves were blindingly fast, and two of the three evaded the wall he threw up. One hit him square in the chest, its body slamming into him and clawing at his chest. Fortunately, the hard crocodile hide of his jacket shielded most of his body, but one hind leg slipped inside his coat, tearing his vest and shredding the silk shirt underneath it and slicing into his side. But the claws weren't the issue; he could heal those wounds and immediately released his curse to work on them. However, that same wolf's head bent, finding the spot between his neck and the high collar of his coat, and suddenly teeth sank into the meat of his right shoulder.

Staggering, Rumplestiltskin toppled as searing pain ripped into his shoulder, screaming in pain without ever hearing the sound. Skin tore and magic stabbed into his system, and then the second wolf he'd not managed to stop landed on top of him. He heard Belle cry his name as sharp white teeth flashed in front of his eyes; Rumplestiltskin got an arm up between the open jaws and his face, but fangs sank into his arm, tearing right through the thinner sleeve of his coat and digging in. He cried out, twisting madly under the pair of wolves. Colors—red, white, and then sheer black—sparked into his vision, and he felt the teeth latched into his arm twisting and tearing. Another snarl came from nearby, and Rumplestiltskin suddenly realized that the others were coming—

"No!" a voice cried, and then something cracked, and one of the wolves yelped in pain.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who continues to leave me reviews! They always utterly make my day, particularly now with a new job all the chaos that brings to my life.

Next up, Chapter Forty-Two: "Ever Just the Same", where Emma tries to get information on the Basement from Gold, Moe French is still worked up over Lacey, August winds up volunteering for something dangerous, and Cora threatens Lacey. Back in the past, Rumplestiltskin and Belle continue facing the Wolves of Alsfeld, and then deal with the aftermath.