Summary: When women start being murdered in her small hometown of Bon Temps, Sheriff Emma Swan seeks help from an unlikely ally, Killian Jones, a 300-year-old vampire who owns a pirate themed bar in Shreveport.

A/N: This is a Captain Swan/True Blood (or Sookie Stackhouse novels) crossover, but it's not necessary to have either watched True Blood or read the novels.

Chapter 1

It hadn't taken much convincing to get Graham to take her to the vampire bar in Shreveport: a hopeful smile, a little batting of the eyelashes, and his reluctance had melted away. Emma had only known him for a couple months, but the soft spoken, handsome vampire had gained her trust quickly after helping her out with a nasty bit of business at Granny's Diner one night.

She picked him up just after dark, and he folded himself gracefully into the passenger seat of her little beetle. He looked comically cramped but voiced no complaints.

"Sorry," she said anyway, putting the car back into drive. "I couldn't risk my patrol car raising suspicion."

"No apology necessary, Sheriff," he told her, and she could feel his eyes sweep over her as she pulled back out onto the street. "Although, I doubt anyone will be paying attention to what you're driving."

She chanced a glance over at him, not missing the way his fangs protruded out of his mouth slightly, before forcing her eyes back on the road. Well, she had wanted to spice things up with her wardrobe tonight and had chosen her tightest, shortest red dress. If his reaction was anything to go by, she had chosen well.

Any other time Emma knew she would have taken pleasure in his obvious arousal, but tonight wasn't about having fun. No, tonight, Emma Swan was a woman on a mission. Someone was killing women in her town, and as the sheriff it was her job to figure out who. So far, both of the women had had fang marks on their bodies, and while not being the cause of death, it was a pattern and one Emma knew she had to follow.

The ride from Bon Temp to Shreveport was mostly silent, though not entirely uncomfortable. Finally, Graham gestured for her to get off the freeway exit, and it was only a few more minutes until they pulled into the bar's crowded parking lot.

"'The Dead Man's Chest', seriously?" Emma asked dryly, reading the sign on top of the building. "What is it, some kind of pirate bar?"

"Yes," he answered simply, and while he didn't smile his eyes shone with amusement.

"Oh."

Graham was outside of the car and over to the driver's side, opening her door for her before she'd even cut the engine. He offered her his hand and she took it, marveling at the cool temperature of his skin. It was a bit eerie if she thought about it too hard, but vampires had been out of the coffin for 2 years, and it was high time she got over it.

"It's probably best if you stick close to me," Graham suggested, threading her arm through his.

"I can take care of myself, Graham," Emma said automatically, but made no move to pull away as they neared the front door.

"I know, but as your escort tonight, it's my responsibility to make sure nothing happens to you," he said, and she near rolled her eyes. Once upon a time, Graham had been Irish nobility and even being made vampire hadn't caused him to curtail his gentlemanly ways.

"Whatever lets you sleep at night," Emma muttered, before adding as an after thought, "Or morning, I guess."

The bouncer at the door nodded a greeting to Graham and checked Emma's ID before waving them through. Inside was like a whole different world. It was campy, kind of like what she'd expect a Pirates of the Caribbean themed bar at Disney world would look like, except for the glaringly obvious fact that half the patrons were sporting fangs. There were skull and crossbone flags hung all over the walls, along with netting and rope as from a ship. The staff, both human and vampire alike, were clad in various pirate get ups complete with bandanas and hats, long necklaces and gaudy rings. Here and there, tourists were interspersed with the patrons, snapping pictures and buying t-shirts and pint glasses with the club's logo on them.

"This is so bizarre," she said to Graham as he led them over to the bar. "Is this really where you guys come to get your rocks off?"

He shrugged. "For some it's a good place to meet people, perhaps pick up a willing meal, pardon the term," he added, seeing Emma's arched eyebrow. "For others, it's a very lucrative business investment."

Emma considered that while Graham ordered a Tru Blood (B negative) from the bartender who seemed to know him. Once he'd grabbed that for Graham, he turned to her. "And something for your date?"

Not his date, Emma struggled to suppress. "A rum and coke, please," she said instead, pulling two pictures out of her purse and sliding them across the bar. "And any information you can give me on either of these women."

The bartender, Smee, was almost no help besides being able to identify one of the women, Ariel, as a sometimes dancer. He got rather fidgety when she asked him who she usually hung out with, and Emma let it be, figuring she might be able to work on him later.

She steered Graham towards a table in the middle of the room, hoping the location would give her a good vantage point with which to study the crowd. There were less tourists inside now, and the bar seemed to grow darker, sexier, the music driving most of the patrons to the dance floor.

"Would you like to dance?" Graham asked, noticing where her attention was.

"I'm not here to dance, I'm here to-"

That was when she saw him, and the words died in her mouth. He was staring straight at her, his blue eyes seeming to pierce her soul. The small raised platform in front of the dance floor was made to look like the helm of a ship, and he sat on what appeared to be a throne right next to the wheel. Clad from head to toe in black leather, he looked every inch the pirate. On him it didn't look campy, it looked natural, like a second skin. Once he realized that he'd caught her attention he gave her a slow smirk, his fangs dropping down, and Emma resisted the urge to shiver.

"Who's that?" she asked Graham, taking a sip of her drink, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart.

"Ah, noticed Killian, have you?" he said, almost disappointedly. "He's the owner of the bar, and the oldest amongst us."

Emma knew Graham was about 200 years old, give or take, and she had a feeling she knew exactly about how old Killian was. "Let me guess," she said. "He was a legit pirate back in the day."

Graham raised his eyebrows. "The rumors say that he was Blackbeard's biggest rival," he told her.

Emma was still watching him watch her when a petite blonde dressed in a short green tunic appeared at his side and whispered in his ear. He chuckled to himself, licking his lips, before his eyes zeroed in on Graham. There was no mistaking the way he crooked his finger, beckoning him, them, over.

Graham tensed up next to her. "He's summoning us."

It appeared that Emma was about to get a lesson in vampire hierarchy. "Can he do that?"

"Unfortunately," Graham drawled, and even thought she knew he couldn't breath, he seemed to sigh as he stood up from the table. "Shall we?"

Emma took his proffered hand, grabbing her rum and coke, and together they crossed over to the raised platform Killian sat on.

Almost pointedly, the pirate vampire ignored her in favor of grinning at Graham. "Humbert!" he said, his accent different from her companion's. "Been a while there, mate."

"Well, the last time I was here, Jones, you stole away my dinner for the evening," Graham responded dryly.

Killian Jones' smile widened. "It's not stealing if she came willingly," he pointed out, before switching his gaze to Emma. "Wouldn't you say so, Miss-?"

She didn't answer right away, cocking her head to the side as she studied him. Up close he was impossibly gorgeous: dark, thick hair, just the right amount of stubble on his cheeks, and eyeliner that made his eyes seem brighter despite the dark interior of the club. He practically screamed sex, and if she wasn't careful, she would forget the reason she'd come here tonight.

"Swan. Emma Swan."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he said, raking his gaze over her in a way that made her feel warm all over. "Now, Tink tells me you've been asking questions of my bartenders. If you have anything to ask, please, ask it of me."

She blinked in surprise, but quickly regained her footing. "Right, well, I'm looking for information about these two women," she told him, producing both Ariel and Aurora's pictures from her purse and passing them to him.

He studied them for a moment. "You're in luck, love," he said. "I happen to know them both. Ariel has danced here quite a few times. Her mermaid routine is a particular crowd pleaser. And Aurora, well, I would have liked to taste her, but her boyfriend Phillip never was one to share." He glanced up at Emma, licking his lips as if imagining what she tasted like. "Has something happened to them?"

"They're dead," she said bluntly.

His expression clouded. "A pity, they were amongst the few humans I can stand," he said. His eyes flashed dangerously as he handed her back the photos. "I suppose you believe a vampire killed them."

"Actually, no," she corrected. "There was no evidence in either case to suggest their killer was a vampire. The were both bludgeoned to death. However, both women had recent fang marks on their bodies when they were killed."

Killian stroked his chin pensively, looking out over the dance floor. "That would seem to suggest a vendetta against women who consort with vampires."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, it was like a light went on in Emma's head. Of course! Why hadn't she thought of that before? She loved Bon Temps but she knew it was full of bigots who were afraid of anything different than them. Quite a few people hadn't been too pleased when Graham moved to town, him being their first resident vampire.

"I don't think I have to tell you to take extra care with Miss Swan here, Humbert," the pirate said to Graham.

Emma made a noise of dissent in the back of her throat. "I can protect myself just fine, thanks."

"Emma," Graham warned, but it was too late.

Killian glanced between them with piqued interest. "You mean, you two aren't-?"

Graham's fangs popped down suddenly, immediately followed by Killian's. "Emma is mine," he growled.

Why me? Emma asked silently. "Um, no, Emma is nobody's but her own," she interjected, shooting Graham a glare that made him sheepishly retract his fangs. Sure, she and her handsome vampire friend had kissed, once, but that didn't mean he had a claim over her. "Now, if you two are done with this little pissing contest, I'd like to enjoy the rest of my rum and coke."

"Of course, where are my manners?" Killian made a quick gesture with his hand, and suddenly another chair appeared next to him. "Your company would give me great pleasure, love," he said, punctuating the word pleasure with smirk. "Perhaps I can still be of further assistance."

Emma exchanged a look with Graham. It was clear that the invitation did not extend to him, and his expression urged caution. Whoever this Killian Jones was, he was not someone to trifle with. If there was any chance of finding the killer in her town, though, Emma knew she had to take it.

With a nod to Graham, she stepped onto the platform and took a seat. "I didn't know pirates had manners," she said wryly. When she glanced back to where Graham had been standing, he was gone.

"Ah, a pirate I may be," Killian conceded, lifting her free hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. "But I am first and foremost a gentleman."

Emma's lips parted of their own accord, and she was suddenly unable to tear her eyes away from his. His touch was cool and yet the spot where his lips had caressed her skin seemed to burn. Luckily for her, he ruined the moment by rotating her wrist and sliding his nose along her pulse point.

"Mmm, you smell absolutely delectable, darling," he hummed, his fangs slowly emerging again.

She tore her hand out of his grasp at the sight of them. "Too bad you'll never get a taste."

Killian wasn't deterred or even slightly shamed. "Never say never, love," he quipped. "In my vast experience, it puts such a hamper on all kinds of possibilities."

Not knowing how to respond to that, Emma instead chose to take a sip of her drink and change the subject. "So, we've got Mr. Smee and Tink," she said, nodding to his two employees in turn. "Does that make you Captain Hook?"

He chuckled. "Guilty," he said. "Though I have the benefit of retaining both of my hands." He wiggled them in front of him making Emma bite her lip to hide a smile. "Tink's true name is Carina Tinkerella, though she actually does go by Tink. And believe it or not, my bartender's name is actually Smee. Funny how that works out."

"You've got your own little Neverland here," Emma commented, though she didn't remember any of the characters in Peter Pan sporting fangs. But none of the vampires here would ever grow old, they would stay static, never changing, until they met their true death.

"Aye, that it is," he replied, looking out across his bar solemnly, and somehow Emma knew that he was thinking the same thing as her. "And what about you, love?" he asked, gaze falling on her again. "Would you consider yourself a Lost Girl?"

There was no point in lying, she was sure he could hear her heartbeat, so she said nothing.

Killian leaned closer, eyes searching hers. "No matter, you're somewhat of an open book," he told her, and it was like the entire bar had faded away, like they were the only two people there.

"Oh yeah?" she challenged him, cursing the somewhat breathy quality of her voice.

"You're independent, somewhat of a loner despite being in a position of authority, a sheriff or at least deputy, I would wager," he recited, and Emma's eyes widened at the accuracy. His expression softened slightly as he went on. "Love has been all too rare in your life, hasn't it?"

This was getting too personal, and Emma did not do personal. She drained the rest of her drink and stood up. "Well, this has been a blast, but I think it's time for me to go."

Killian stood as well, staying her with a pair of serious blue eyes. "Before you do, just answer me this," he said. "Have you ever evenbeen in love?"

The silver necklace she wore around her throat suddenly felt like it was choking her. "No, I've never been in love."

"That is a great shame," was all Killian said, his fingers coming up to lightly caress her cheek. She let him, staying so still that she forgot to breath, and let out a deep breath when he dropped his hand. "In regards to your case, Miss Swan, please call on my assistance anytime. I am at your disposal."

He gave her a gallant bow, before disappearing in the direction of where the offices must have been. Graham was before her the second he was gone, helping her down from the stage.

"Emma?" he asked worriedly. "Are you alright?"

She shook herself out of her Killian-induced trance. "I'm fine," she told her, trying to muster up a smile. "Come on, let's get out of here. I want to make sure Granny isn't letting Henry wait up for me."

They made it out of the bar unmolested and packed back into Emma's tiny car. She only looked back at The Dead Man's Chest once, and somehow wasn't surprised at all to find Killian watching them go.

A/N: I have no idea where this is going, but let me know if you like it! If I get enough interest, I may continue it. I have a lot of ideas that incorporate some of the other characters, i.e. Ruby being a werewolf, bringing in Mary Margaret and David, and making Regina the vampire queen of Louisiana, so hopefully I can start to get stuff down on paper. Please review! :)