Notes: *deep breath* So I'm a little nervous over this one, because as was pointed out to me earlier today, this is my first actual AU in which I'm not just taking off from a current episode. I'm excited and nervous all at once, so I hope it's as fun of a ride as I have it pictured. For those of you that have read my other work, this will probably not be an update-every-day kind of story. I'm thinking twice a week with the occasional Wednesday updates when I get the chance. We'll see how it goes.

Prologue

When he was young, Rumplestiltskin had been afraid of more than the other children in the village. He didn't like heights, he was a poor swimmer, and nights were often filled with shadows that he was certain would leap out at him. The other children in the village - the two spinsters that had taken him in after that terrible trip to Neverland had tried to encourage him to make friends with them - seemed to find their entertainment in making his fears a reality. He was smaller, weaker, and often bullied. Their favourite form of abuse seemed to be hauling him to a certain cliff that overlooked the waters. He knew that the rocks receded far from where the other boys jumped in, but knowing it and believing it as they pulled him to the edge and finally heaved him off the ledge when he refused to jump was entirely different. The waves would crash in around him and every time it was a wonder when he broke the surface and managed to find something to grab onto. They thought it was all in good fun, but all Rumple could do was struggle not to drown.

The nights were the worst, though, as every bit of light that streamed through from the moon made the shadows dance across the walls. He'd bury himself under his blanket until one of the sisters came in and coaxed him gently back out. "You'll never sleep with all that crying, Rumple. What's so frightening?" they would ask.

"The shadows."

They tried to tell him that shadows couldn't hurt him, but he knew better. Shadows were demons in disguise. Shadows took his papa away and convinced him that he didn't love Rumple. As bad as the other children were, the spinsters were kind to him, and he didn't want to lose them too. If he wasn't careful, the shadow would take them away as well.

As he'd gotten older, the nightmares about the shadowy demon faded and so did his urge to jump at every nocturnal movement. During the day he spun with the two sisters and in studying how to spin and weave, he learned to appreciate the details in all that surrounded him. In doing that, he could finally, for the most part, talk himself out of his night-time terrors and he learned to outwit the rather dull witted boys of his village. Oh, Rumplestiltskin didn't make any friends, particularly, and they never really stopped harassing him, but they caught him less in the end.

If it were the monsters that haunted his dreams or the children that could have just as easily have been monsters, Rumple learned how work his way through the situation to tell what was real and what was not.

What was real was that his jaw hurt like hell. Who knew the scrawny frame his father had taken on could pack a kick like that? Just like his jaw, though, so did the back of his head and his shoulders where he'd collided with the shelf and nearly gone all the way through it. It had knocked him a little funny at first, but some of that could have been the shock. He'd had it under control. Of course he'd had it under control, but then Pan had switched the cuff and Rumple had mentally kicked himself for his own stupidity. His oversight had cost him dearly. It had cost everyone dearly, and wasn't that the story of his life? The one time Rumplestiltskin was determined to do something right, he'd still screwed it up. Maybe being a coward wasn't his lot in life, maybe it was being a failure. He'd failed to hold onto Milah's love, he'd failed to protect Bae from himself and the prophecy, and he'd failed, now, to save those he loved. He failed. He failed he failed he failed. It was like a terrible little sing-song voice - the damn imp, even with the magic-blocking cuff on he could hear the darkness and feel it swirling inside of him, demanding something he couldn't give it - would never let him forget it.

All you have is darkness. This is where reaching for the light gets you. Weakness.

His father was talking again, that haughty look etched into his face enough to make him sick. He'd worn it enough time after playing people like pawns in a game. The feeling built him up, made him powerful. Pan had that look now. A man - a boy? - with ultimate power. Here, in Storybrooke, with all the magic that Rumplestiltskin himself had brought, he wouldn't need the Heart of the Truest Believer. He'd be able to use it and retain his form. He'd leach the magic from this place just as he'd leached it from Neverland, sucking it dry until they were all long gone and dead. Well, all that Rumple cared about anyway. What did the others matter? Belle, Bae, and even Henry… Pan was going to kill them all, and without magic, he could do nothing to stop him.

He leaned down then, in his son's face and for a moment, Rumple was seven years old again with his father telling him all the things he couldn't bear to hear. "Without magic, you're right back to where you started. The village coward."

And then he walked away. Rumplestiltskin wasn't even worth killing in Pan's eyes. The most powerful sorcerer in the Enchanted Forest didn't even cause Peter Pan to blink, and why should he? The cuff wouldn't come off for him. No matter how hard he tugged, pulled, and ripped at it, it wouldn't come off. The smooth leather wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of biting into his skin. It rubbed, irritating at its worst point, and he gave a strangled growl of frustration as he pulled at it again.

Think, his mind commanded him, just as it had all those nights that he'd lain awake in bed, staring at the shadows and wondering which one would open its eyes and reach out for him. Think and use what you have.

The sword. Pan had left it lying on the floor. What was Rumple going to do with it? Walk up and stab him in the back? No, certainly not. He rolled, reaching for it. Self-mutilation wasn't particularly a go-to that he revelled in, but he'd been known to go to extremes before. He'd shattered his own ankle to get home to his son, and if he had to cut off his own hand now to save him, so be it. As soon as his magic returned he could reattach it anyway. That was certainly a luxury that hadn't been afforded to him during the Ogres War.

He pulled himself to his knees, folding back the sleeve of his shirt. He could do this. For Bae. He had to do this. Even as he pulled the sword back he could almost feel the terrible pain racing through his arm of what was to come. Pain was temporary, he reminded himself. Only temporary.

The next thought struck him harder than the blade could have, and he knew he'd been a fool. An utter fool. A laugh bubbled from his throat, shaky and a little mad sounding, if he were to be honest with himself. He didn't need magic to call his shadow. It was a part of him and would come when he called. He could have been across the town line and it still would have followed him. One can't simply lose their shadow, afterall, magic or not.

The laugh broke free again as the stumbled to his feet. As it had been for a great many years, his dagger was the answer. In that moment, he knew what he could do - what he must do - if he wanted to feed that nasty little habit of self preservation. He'd make amends for it. He'd prove that he could do better. He didn't have to die to do that. In fact, he could prove it better in life.

Lifting one hand into the air he could feel an unnatural wind shift through the back office of his shop and one of the windows flew open in the main room. His shadow came flying in, the Kris Dagger clutched in one hand. He reached out for it, feeling the power that connected him to the weapon as he took hold. He knew this was the key, and he slipped the blade between the leather cuff and his wrist. He could do what was right by his son and love, but he'd be doing it his way. With one sharp pull the knife split the cuff and it was like someone had breathed life back into the Dark One.

He'd frozen them all in place, like puppets that he'd use for his show. That's all he saw them as, of course, even more than Rumplestiltskin ever had. At least he held onto a few people he actually loved. Pan had sent his only son away, refusing to take responsibility for the child that he'd helped to give life to. He was going on and on in some sort of monologue that he thought was important and Rumple felt a sneer pull at his features. Pan had been so certain that his son couldn't trap him because of feelings left over from long ago, but those had been done away with now. He knew this must end, and it must end without Pan free.

"You're not going to be harming any of them," Rumplestiltskin said, his voice holding a level of danger cloaked within the light, airy tone he used with those he he hated the most.

Pan snorted and opened his mouth to deliver some kind of cutting remark, but it snapped immediately closed as his eyes came to rest on his son's wrist. The cuff was gone and he looked up in shock. "You couldn't have taken it off. How?"

"I told you. I've come too far for them," Rumple growled, any lightness in his own voice gone. He didn't hesitate. Hesitation would have given Pan time to plan, and he'd learned his lesson on that. The box appeared in his hand, already opening as it did, and his lips tugged upward at the corners. "You're not in Neverland anymore. And this? This is real."

A panicked expression crossed Pan's face and he immediately tried to move away. The magic from Pandora's Box sprang out though, the red smoke reaching from it and wrapping around him. He was frozen in place as it slowed then, almost as if it were taking its time once its victim had been stilled. Rumple remembered the feeling. It was a void inside that tiny little box. Time didn't move and you couldn't even flinch. It was most certainly not a pleasant experience, and the fact that he'd tricked them all into putting Henry in there instead of him the last time only set the satisfaction a little deeper in him. His magic wrapped around his father as well, telling him that no switch had been made. Pan was trapped.

When the magic had finished its work the box snapped shut, the locks clicking back into place and the spell fell from those Pan had frozen.

"Was that really him that time?" Emma demanded.

Rumplestiltskin nodded, eyes fixated on the box. "Yes, it most certainly was."

Belle crossed the space between them, her arms going around his neck and she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. He could feel a sob wrack her and he knew he'd put her through too much. He always did. "I thought... When he showed up..."

"I'm not so easy to kill," he promised softly.

She smiled, pulling back to look him in the eye. "I told you that you shouldn't worry so much about prophecies. You defeated Pan without giving your life."

"But he's just trapped," David pointed out. "What if he gets out? We've already seen how powerful he can be."

"As soon as Regina breaks the curse, we'll be going back to the Enchanted Forest," Rumplestiltskin explained. "There's magic there that I can't access in Storybrooke, and a spell that can strip him of everything he gained in Neverland. He'll be powerless and you can lock him away in any deep, dark dungeon of your choosing."

"Breaking the curse will send us back?" Mary Margaret breathed, her eyes wide.

"Indeed it will." He glanced over to where the dark haired woman that had cast his curse in the first place stood silent. She had bent down to pick up the scroll, but didn't seem to be making a move to tear it. Rumple's eyes narrowed. "Regina."

She startled at her name and he could see the conflict in her eyes as she looked at him. "The price," she whispered.

"What's our price?" Emma asked, looking between the two sorcerers. In the distance, Leroy was calling out the warning. The curse was coming, just as Pan had warned. The green smoke was billowing through the streets and would wipe their memories if they didn't do something to stop it. If Regina didn't do something to stop it.

Something about the desperate look in her eyes tugged at Rumple. "It's your price alone, Regina. You cast the original curse, you must pay it. What is it?"

"The town will be destroyed and it'll be like it never existed," she managed, her voice taught with emotion. "Anyone that was born in the Enchanted Forest will be taken back."

Rumplestiltskin saw the understanding strike his grandson and he was reminded again how clever the boy was. "Except me," he whispered. "I wasn't born in the Enchanted Forest."

"He'll be alone?" Emma managed, her hand going to her son's shoulder.

"No. You're the savior. You can escape this again and you can take him. You have to take him."

"I can't leave them," the blonde argued, motioning to her newly found family. "This… I'm supposed to bring back the happy endings, right? How can I do that from here? We can both go."

"If I don't pay the price, none of this will work. Isn't that right, Rumple?"

The Dark One felt all eyes turn to him and his son's gaze was the worst. He met those eyes that were so like his own and for a moment he was looking at the young boy he'd known so long ago. The boy that thought he could fix anything. He'd been so young then and had so much faith in him. "Papa, you wrote it, right? There's got to be something. A loophole. Anything. Can't you-"

"There's a price to everything that's done, son," Rumple said immediately, cutting him off. He didn't dare meet his eyes then. He could feel the oncoming curse and they needed to work quickly. There would be no time to look for the details of what it would cost him to take on the price for Regina, and he'd learned long not to jump into a deal that he didn't thoroughly understand. It could be any number of terrible things. The curse demanded her son from her, what if it did the same of him?

"Papa, please."

His heart clenched in his chest and he felt Belle squeeze his hand from her place at his side. "I don't even know if I can," he admitted softly and pulled in a deep breath. If it was to happen, it needed to be now. "Come here, Henry."

The boy moved forward, hesitant as the grandfather he didn't really know reached his free hand out for him and he put his own smaller one into it. Rumple felt magic race between them, exploring and questioning.

A young boy will lead you to your son and that boy will be your undoing.

That didn't matter. None of that mattered. He'd already proven that he could overcome his own darker impulses for family, and even though his curse whispered to him that he could leave the lad behind, secure that it would never come true once and for all, he couldn't do that to his own son. This boy was his family, and that mattered more than anything else. It mattered more than his own curse.

It was like a lock clicked open and he heard the words in his own mind. The price. You will learn the true meaning of sacrifice. Well that was vague.

"Gold, it's coming," Emma's voice broke through and he startled out of it before he could grasp the details.

Rumple blinked, finding Henry staring up at him. "Can I go too?" he asked.

"Yes, lad," his grandfather murmured, glancing back behind them as the smoke rolled in, taking parts of the town with it. "I need you to hold on tight, Henry, do you hear? I can pull you through, but if you let go, even I can't see where you'd land."

Henry nodded and tightened his grip. "I won't let go."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, feeling the smaller hand in his own and he pushed back the dark voice in his own mind. It would be easier to let him slip away, yes, just as it was easier for his curse to let Bae go. That had been an action that he'd regretted it his whole life. His son was asking him and he couldn't - wouldn't - deny him this. "I won't let go of you either," he promised before turning his attention to Bae, reaching out with the hand that still clutched tightly to Pandora's Box. "I can't hold both."

"I've got it," his son answered and took the powerful little box.

Rumple pressed his thin lips together and nodded firmly. "Regina?"

"Right," she breathed and unfolded the scroll in her hand. She glanced over to him as she tore it and balled it up, destroying his life's work. It was okay, he reminded himself even as Regina's magic took over and she began fighting Pan's curse back. It had accomplished what he'd set out to accomplish.

When Regina's curse had first deposited them into Storybrooke they'd simply woken up. The clouds had rolled in, but there was no depositing them on the other side. He'd been in his room and so very, very alone. He'd known, somewhere deep inside, but his memories were clouded and vague. Now as the curse reversed, he wrapped a careful arm around his grandson and the twelve-year-old tightened his grip on him in return. Henry trusted him, and as his son caught his eye, he saw that same trust there too. It was chosen, not so much freely given, but Rumplestiltskin swore in that moment that he'd earn it from his son.

"See you on the other side, Papa."

"I'll bring him through."

"I know."

The curses danced in the sky and crashed down around them, filling their lungs and picking them up. It wasn't a smooth ride, but Rumple hadn't expected it to be. He'd changed things in the last moment, his own magic forcing its way in with Regina's. No one else in all the realms could have made it bend to his will as he was in that moment. He'd written the curse, he'd created it, and now he was manipulating it to allow a traveler through it that was never meant to go. He felt Henry cling to him and he tightened his own grip and held on.

TBC

Notes: Thanks for reading! Let me know how you're liking the beginning and I should have the next chapter up by the end of the week.

In the next chapter - The citizens of Storybrooke are delivered back to the Enchanted Forest only to find that someone is missing.