Regina poured herself a drink, ignoring the slight tremor in her fingers. She rarely indulged while on shift, but after her encounter with Mr. Anancy, she needed something to keep her grounded. The untapped foreign magic in the air was suffocating. It slithered around her like unseen vines, pressing against her skin, thickening the space between each breath she took. Only to disappear moments later.

The bar was quiet now—too quiet. The usual background local chatter had dimmed, and for the first time in a long while, she felt deeply alone. Not the kind of alone she preferred, the peaceful solitude after a long day. No, this was different. This was the kind of alone where something was watching from the around corner, waiting for her to let her guard down. She hadn't felt this vulnerable in a long time. And she did like it one bit.

Despite her feelings, the alone time provided her mind drift to Samedi.

It was stupid, really. She had told herself she needed space, that they needed distance—and yet, her first instinct was to reach for him. To call him. It didn't help that even the universe seemed to have other plans for her, pulling her closer to him regardless. She shook the thought away, tossing back the drink with a skilled ease.

As her shift came to an end, Regina seemed to let her impulses get the best of her. Sitting on the couch with her phone resting in her hand. She had called twice. Texted three times.

Still she got no response.

Her stomach twisted. She wasn't sure why she expected anything different. He was known to disappear into the abyss with no contact. Across from her however, Zelena lounged in her comfy armchair, her eyes flicking over the rim of her second wine glass as she studied her little sister.

"Alright, spill it."

Regina didn't look up, not ready to hear sister's badgering. "Spill what?"

"Oh, I don't know—" Zelena gestured vaguely with her glass. "Maybe the fact that you've been staring at your phone for the past two hours like some lovesick teenager?"

Regina exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "It's not like that."

Zelena raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. So, you're telling me that after months of zero contact, you suddenly have the urge to text Samedi for no reason at all?"

Regina hesitated, then finally set her phone down beside her. "It's not for no reason." She said under her breath but in a quiet room her whispered words got Zelena's attention.

"Alright, now you have to tell me." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "What happened?"

Regina hesitated, gripping the couch cushion as she replayed her encounter with Mr. Anancy. The way he had spoken—so sure of himself, so knowing. The flickers of shadows in the bar. The way the air itself had felt wrong. Unnatural, "I met someone today."

Zelena blinked slightly confused. "Okay...?"

"He called himself Mr. Anancy."

Her sister only made a face. "What kind of name is—"

"He knew things, Zelena." Regina's voice dropped lower, uncomfortable to speak any louder. "About my dreams. About the shift in magic. He said something's coming. Something that shouldn't be here in this world."

Zelena's amusement faded, replaced by something warier. "What exactly did he say?"

Regina swallowed, fingers pressing against her knee. "That the spirit door is open. And something is coming through."

Silence. For the first time, Zelena looked genuinely concerned. "And you think Samedi knows something about this?"

Regina sighed, leaning back against the couch. "If anyone does, it's him."

Zelena studied her for a moment, then shook her head with a smirk. "I knew it. You still care about him."

Regina rolled her eyes. "That's not—"

"Oh, please." Zelena took another sip of wine, her grin widening. "You're worried about him. That's why you keep checking your phone like a lovesick puppy."

Regina scoffed. "I am not a lovesick puppy."

Zelena shrugged. "Whatever you say, sis." Regina didn't argue. Sighing as glanced at her phone one last time. Still nothing.

That night like most nights, Regina tossed and turned in her bed. Sleep now days didn't come easy, but tonight, it was worse. The air in her room felt heavy, pressing against her skin like unseen rough hands. She wasn't sure when she drifted off but as reality slipped away the dream came again. She was there, in the void. Darkness stretched endlessly around her, shifting like it was alive and had a mind of its own. The same feeling as before, the same weight in her chest, the same foreign feeling in the air.

But this time, there was something new.

A brown door.

It stood in the distance, impossibly tall, ancient looking and pulsing with an eerie glow. Regina's feet moved on their own, despite the well power to stop. Each step brought her closer, her breath shallow, her hands trembling.

Something about the door called to her and it wasn't a call she wanted to answer.

She could hear whispers curling around the edges of her mind, low and distant. "Open it."

Egging her to do as they wished. Her fingers reached for the handle despite her not wanting to.

"Come closer." It said but her mind hesitated.

The whispers grew louder. The air thickened. And just as her fingers tips touched the doorknob-

"Regina!"

She jerked awake, her eyes wide open as she tried gasping for air. Her vision swam, her pulse racing. Someone was shaking her. "Regina—" Her eyes snapped to the figure above her and to her surprise she was met with Samedi.

His expression was sharp, eyes dark with concern, his hands gripping her shoulders. "You were screaming," he murmured, his voice lower now and softer.

Regina swallowed, the nightmare still clinging to her like a second skin. "What—" She ran a hand over her face, trying to steady her breath. She was sweating and her hair clung to her because of it. "How did you...what are you doing here?"

Samedi didn't answer right away. His eyes flickered, scanning her face, like he was trying to piece something together. Finally, he exhaled. "We need to talk."

Regina's heart was still pounding. The image of the door burned in her mind. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice unsteady. "We do."

Weaver stood by the window of his dimly lit apartment, eyes narrowed as he took a slow drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled in the air like dancing snakes but it did nothing to distract him from the stench of ancient magic still lingering outside.

He had seen it.

The thing that slithered out of Samedi's apartment the night before. A shadow, but not just any shadow—it moved with purpose, with hunger. It had slipped through the cracks of Hyperion Heights like a sickness. And Weaver knew exactly who to blame. "Bloody idiot," he muttered, grinding the cigarette into the ashtray with more force than necessary. "He went and did it. He let it out."

Magic still wasn't in Hyperion Heights but the boundaries of magic lingered just out of reach. He could feel it, sense it and to his dismay it tortured him greatly. A world without magic was hellish place to live in. Now he had deal with the upcoming threat without his go to crutch.

Samedi had meddled in things Weaver had warned him about. And now, something old was loose. Weaver pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. He had seen this happen before. He knew the cost of mistakes like this. The way magic—especially dark ancient magic—always came at a great price. And Samedi? He had no idea just how deep he was in.

Weaver turned toward his desk, reaching for his gun. Not because it would help, but because it was a habit. This world version of protection wouldn't do and he needed a plan. He needed to find Samedi before things got worse but his thoughts were rudely interrupted by a knock at the door.

The sudden noise made Weaver froze.

His instincts screamed at him, gripping his gun tighter. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the sudden shot of adrenaline went through him. No one knocked on his door. especially at this hour. Slowly, he turned, placing his gun in his back pocket before cautiously striding over. His fingers hovered over the handle for half a second before he wrenched it open. A man stood there.

Dreadlocks streaked with silver. A green suit that was too sharp, too clean. And a smile that was both humoured, dangerous and familiar. "Ah, Rumpelstiltskin," the man drawled, stepping inside without permission. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

Weaver's jaw tightened. "Spider."

The door clicked shut behind him as Mr. Anancy glanced around the apartment like he was appraising a cheap motel room. "I must say, for a man who claims to know everything, you did a piss-poor job keeping my son out of trouble."

Weaver's hands curled into fists. "You're a little late for the concerned father act, don't you think?"

Mr. Anancy's eyes darkened. "Whose fault is that?"

The air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken history. Weaver exhaled sharply, moving back toward his desk, resting both hands on the wood. "I kept him away from you for a reason," he said, voice low, controlled. "You and I both know what you would've done to him."

Mr. Anancy chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. "Oh, come now, Detective. Let's not rewrite history. It wasn't just you. His mother made that choice too. "Weaver's jaw tightened.

"Ahhh," Anancy nodded knowingly. "Still sore about that, aren't we? You and my dear wife—" He tsked. "Such a fascinating short lived partnership you had."

"She gave me what I was looking for a price." Weaver's eyes flickered dangerously. "She knew what you were, Anancy. What you would've turned him into."

Mr. Anancy's amusement flickered. "I would have made him great."

"You would have made him a pawn." Weaver snapped The words hung between them, heavy and sharp.

Anancy's face finally shifted into something real. A cold, simmering anger. "And what did you do, hmm?" His voice lowered, silk and venom. "What did you give him? Lies? A half-life? You stole my son from me and left him to flounder in the shadows of lesser men."

Weaver met his gaze evenly. "I gave him a chance."

Mr. Anancy scoffed. "You gave him nothing. You fed him scraps of power and let him think he was in control. But the truth?" His smile turned razor-sharp. "He was always meant for more than this little street magic you let him play with."

Weaver stayed silent.

"And now," Anancy continued, stepping closer, "you want to blame him for what's happening? No, no, no, Weaver you don't get to be righteous about this. Not when you knew this day would come."

Weaver exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers against his temples. "What do you want, Anancy?"

The older man tilted his head. "I want my son."

Weaver's grip tightened on the edge of the desk. "That's not your call anymore."

"It was never yours." Anancy said firmly causing a charged silence between them.

Then, a slow smirk curled on Mr. Anancy's lips. "But you don't have a choice, do you?" He leaned in slightly. "Because the door is open. The thing you feared would happen?" He chuckled, voice laced with satisfaction. "It's already started."

Weaver's stomach dropped. He had form a real plan. Now.

The trickster grinned like a man who had just played his winning hand. Irritating the Dark One as he was quickly growing frustrated with the conversation. His mind could help but drift to his beloved, Belle, how would she want him to stay on the straight and narrow. But the drive to end the the trickster came easy and if he wasn't careful he might slip into his old ways.

"Ahhh," Anancy drawled, "there it is. That little flicker of hope, hidden under all that grief and guilt. You miss them, don't you?"

Weaver's jaw clenched. "Careful, Anancy."

"Oh, come now, Rumple. We're old friends, aren't we?" Mr. Anancy stepped closer, eyes gleaming. "You spent your whole existence trying to fight fate. Trying to change your story. But tell me..." His voice dipped, slow and deliberate. "What if you didn't have to keep losing?"

Weaver didn't move. The words the man in front of him spoke made his sparked his thoughts. He could leave everything, be with Belle and His precious son. This wasn't his battle to fight but like the moments before Belle's cautious voice reminded him otherwise.

"I can help you reach them." The words sliced through the room like a blade.

Weaver's fingers curled against the desk. "You're lying."

"Am I?" Mr. Anancy tilted his head. "You and I both know I have connections to places beyond this world. To realms beyond the reach of ordinary men. I know the path. I know the ways. And I know you, Rumple. I know what you dream about when the nights get too long and the guilt gets too heavy. You dream of them." Weaver's pulse was steady, but beneath it, something cracked. Belle and Bae. A life that had slipped through his fingers, over and over again. A family he had tried to hold onto, only to lose them in the end. And Anancy, damn him, was offering something that no magic, no curse, no amount of bargaining with the devil had ever truly given him. A chance.

"All you have to do," Anancy continued, "is step aside. Stay out of my way. Let me take back what's mine—my son. And in return?" He leaned in, his voice a whisper of silk and poison. "I will take you to them."

Weaver closed his eyes for the briefest second. It was tempting. More than tempting. It was everything but he also knew men like Mr Anancy. He was like those Men who twisted truths and wove webs of promises just to watch people fall apart. Weaver opened his eyes again, his expression was unreadable. "You think I'm that easy to manipulate?"

Anancy sighed, shaking his head. "No, Weaver. I don't think you're easy. I think you're tired. And tired men make mistakes." A slow smirk tugged at his lips. "And the thing about mistakes? They have a way of making decisions for you."

Weaver's stomach tightened. Because he knew that Samedi was already in deep but more importantly he knew that Regina was caught in the middle of it all. The spirit that was slithering through the cracks of Hyperion Heights wasn't just lingering. It was hunting. Preying on the weak minded for it's own agender. If he didn't move fast, he wasn't the only one who would lose the people he loved. But Anancy...the trickster could be patient. Like a spider they were all in his web of madness, trapped like a flies.

Reaching for his coat, Anancy's voice followed him like a whisper in the dark. "Think about it, Weaver." Without another word the old man left, the door clicked shut behind him. However on the other side of the door Anancy smiled. He knew sooner or later everyone falls into place.

The room was quiet as Regina and Samedi sat across from each other. Neither spoke, but the silence between them wasn't awkward—it was heavy. It was calm. It was familiar. Regina wasn't sure how to begin, how to piece together all the emotions tangled inside her. But one thing she was certain of was how good it felt to see him again.

He looked exhausted—a rare sight. Samedi always took pride in his appearance, no matter the situation, but tonight, the weight of his troubles showed through the cracks. Sitting before her now, it was as if she was seeing the real him—the part he had kept hidden for years.

Their eyes met.

And despite everything—despite the heartbreak, the distance, the unspoken pain—her heart still reacted the same way. Butterflies. Warmth. A longing she wished she could suppress. She hated how easy it was to love him but now wasn't the time for that. Regina inhaled deeply, steadying herself before breaking the silence that had swallowed them whole.

"What is going on Samedi?"

His expression darkened, his fingers tightening into fists as he finally spoke. "A spirit is loose in town. A dark spirit." His voice was low, raw with frustration. "It's my fault. I went searching for answers in the spirit world, and in doing so, I led it to me... and to the ones I love. My son. And now, you."

Regina's heart clenched. "Kaleb is affected by this." she asked, concern breaking through in her tone.

At the sound of her worry, Samedi let a small, fleeting smile creep onto his face. He had always loved that side of her the way she cared. But just as quickly as it appeared, the smile faded, replaced by something far heavier. He ran a hand over his face, sighing.

"No...his at my apartment with Tiffany." He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "But I fear I can't stop this from consuming him. He's so young, Regina. Too young."

She watched as he unravelled in front of her. Without thinking, she moved closer, kneeling beside him. Gently, she cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

"You can fix this," she whispered, her voice steady. "You are not your mistakes."

His breath hitched at her touch. Soft. Warm. A reminder of everything he had lost—and everything he still wanted. Her gaze was so full of belief, of hope... something he wasn't sure he deserved.

" If I can...I'm afraid that it will come at cost."

Regina nodded, "Everything does." Without hesitation she took his hands in hers, squeezing them tight. " You help me find a way save my son when I thought it was impossible. Maybe together we can figure out how to stop this."

Samedi pulled away, pacing the room like a man on the edge of a cliff.

"No," he shook his head," I can not put you in danger. Not again."

Regina stood, her arms crossed as she watched him. "Samedi, I am already affected. You need help."

"No, I need magic. A lot of it. This town is still under the curse but if I break it then I have a better chance catching the dark spirit."

Regina's breath caught. "If you break the curse then Henry-"

"Henry will be safe." Samedi cut in with a firm voice. "if make use the magic I gave you...a protection potion will do the trick." Samedi said with assurance. " As long as his heart is protected he will survive. Until you can find a way to permanently to reverse curse on his heart."

Regina hesitated, nodding slowly. Henry would be safe but something was lingering in the back of her mind. The new visitor.

He seemed very interested in Samedi. The way he had spoken of Samedi... the way they shared similarities made her stomach twist. She remembered when Samedi explain that his father had died when he was young but had that tale been a lie.

"Samedi...She hesitated, watching carefully, "What do you know about your father?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Your father. What do you remember about him?"

Samedi frowned, running a hand over his jaw. "Not much. He died when I was a boy, but... he was a powerful shaman. That's all I really know. Why?"

Regina pressed her lips together, trying to find the right way to say it. There was no easy way. "There was a man looking for you today at the bar."

Samedi straightened, his entire demeanour shifting. "A man?"

"He said..." Regina inhaled deeply. "He said he was your father."

Samedi froze. His heart pounded in his chest. "What!?" His voice was sharp, edged with disbelief. "Who was this man?"

Regina met his gaze, steady and unshaken. "His name is Mr. Anancy"

All characters belong to ABC studios Disney except from Mr Anancy, Tiffany & Kaleb (OC) xxx