Thank you anyone who followed or favorited! Special thanks to Lisa1972 and campingwiththecharmings for taking the time to comment :) Despite the Supernatural angle this will have a happy enough ending so enjoy! The last chapter will be up by the end of this week.
Emma picked up Jones in Charlotte, South Carolina without a hitch and promptly coerced him into driving for hours, waking only north of New York City. They passed the rest of the ride in companionable silence for the most part, occasionally bickering over music or where to stop for a quick bite to eat. (House rules though, she was in charge).
Despite Jones' exasperating nature, he might be the only person Emma wholly trusted and their tentative friendship had evolved past just their desire to kill Gold. They'd met as she entered her second year of hunting. After Henry's death she'd spiraled downward, almost crazed in her need to find his murderer, following supernatural lead after lead always waiting for some sign pointing to the vampire.
This particular lead involved mysterious disappearances and whispers of bodies found drained of blood. As it turned out a djinn was behind those murders not vampires but tied up in its lair, hanging from his wrists is how she found Killian Jones. The only victim left alive, still trapped in dreamland, she dragged him from the abandoned manor house, intending to drop him in her motel and call an ambulance. Fate intervened when he'd woken in her car, incoherently mumbling about a vampire in a crocodile coat. Desperate for answers she'd nursed him back to health and shared her past involving the vampire. Jones was eager to find someone to share his hatred with and wasted no time educating her, about the vampire known as Gold, his mate Belle and Emma's severe lack of formal hunting knowledge.
From what she gathered, Jones started hunting after a demon possessed and ultimately killed his brother. Then, at some point in the recent past Gold had taken something from him as well. In place of a left hand, Jones sported a silver hook, inlayed with runes and symbols to assist in supernatural slaying, the lack of hand courtesy of the vampire. Though he'd never admitted it, she knew that Gold also took someone he loved, the walls around his emotions high and a tattoo on his forearm a silent testament to her. She didn't ask nor did she hold his secrets against him, having only shared minimal details about what happened to her son and he returned the favor.
Over the past couple of years they had spent a lot of time together, chasing down leads and providing assistance on run-of-the-mill jobs. Their search had lasted too long at this point, though that wasn't entirely their fault. The world had gone completely to shit last year (fucking Winchesters and their almost-apocalypse) so they were rather preoccupied. Only once they beat back the influx of nightmarish creatures were they able to resume their search for Gold, finally leading them to the outskirts of this small town off the coast of Maine.
They didn't reach Storybrooke until late afternoon, clouds dark and foreboding, promising rain. It was a sleepy little place, surrounded by woods and the occasional field like the one they were currently parked in. Perhaps Gold thought that it was far enough and small enough to escape their notice but with the internet and chatter on social media the disappearances weren't hard to miss. It was just a matter of sifting through the hundreds of other false alarms they had stuck around to clean up before they found the right one.
After digging into the town records, Emma noted a recently purchased property that looked like a promising place to start. A couple miles outside of town, it was little more than a foreclosed farmhouse and pastures, a perfect place to avoid notice. Both of them couldn't settle their nerves enough to wait and decided not to waste any time finding the last thing they needed was for Gold to catch wind of their presence in town and flee, sending them back to square one.
The first raindrops started falling as they stood in front of her trunk loading their pockets with wooden stake ammo, just in case their scouting went south and they had to fight their way out. Emma shivered slightly and zipped her leather jacket up all the way, trying to burrow into the collar. Jones gave her a sidelong look that she ignored and stuffing her UV flashlight in her back jeans pocket, she quietly shut the hatch door.
"Ready?" he asked, voice almost husky. His dark hair was already damp and starting to drip, but there was a determined gleam in his eye.
Emma nodded and took off down the dirt road which slowly turning into a mud pit, trusting him to follow. They had a little under two miles to walk, before they would be in range the house. It would be an ideal place for the vamps to hide out during the day.
Jones caught up, his footsteps splashing in the growing puddles, but he stayed a step behind, shadowing her. Hopefully he'd understood that she'd rather they walked in silence, mostly because she didn't want to take the chance of being detected and partly because she could already feel her heart pounding in her throat. They had experienced false alarms before, but this lead was more definite than anything they'd heard before and she needed to keep it together.
Thoroughly soaked and a mile and a half later, they cut into the wet underbrush to the right of the road. Despite being unpleasant, the rain was a blessing in disguise. Gold, Belle and likely the rest of their nest had Emma and Jones' scent upping their risk for being caught, but the rain should make them much harder to detect.
Emma did her best to keep quiet, but the ferns and brambles underfoot made total silence impossible. She cringed internally every time a twig snapped trying to place her feet. An occasional muttered curse from Jones' indicated he was having a similar issue.
A few minutes later she raised her eyes and stopped short, they were almost to the end of trees. Beyond lay pastures enclosed by rundown fences and the equally dilapidated farmhouse.
Unprepared for a full stop, Jones crashed into her back, sending her flying forward. Emma threw her hands out, bracing to land in the mud but he snaked his good hand around the waist and pulled her to him before she could fall. Pressed against him for a moment, she shivered, his chest firm behind her and his warm breath tickling the back of her neck. It took another second for him to let go and step away, cheeks slightly flushed.
Emma raised an eyebrow at him and she got his classic sassy head snap as if to say it was her fault in the first place. Before she could give an admonishing rap on the arm, he froze, every muscle tense and eyes fixated on a point towards the farmhouse.
Cursing internally for allowing the distraction, she whipped her head around, searching for movement. Emma bent low to the ground and crept closer to the tree line, hiding behind a thicker evergreen trunk. Peeking out, she could just make out a figure pacing on the porch, but at this distance couldn't distinguish any features.
She silently turned back to Jones, motioning him forward. After carefully picked his way over to her, he crouched just behind her and dug in his jacket for the binoculars. Pulling them out of his pocket, he handed them over, jaw clenching and eyes tracking the figure. She brought them to her eyes, squinting in the fading light. It was a woman standing there, but her back was to them so she couldn't be sure of her identity.
"Who is it?" Jones impatiently whispered in her ear.
The door opened with a bang that they could hear from their hiding place and they both jumped, Jones' hand shooting out to grip her upper arm. Emma stiffened as she focused on the man that emerged, his coat unmistakable and when the woman turned around, she knew. The two embraced and she looked away. Different emotions starting bubbling up within her, but she forced them all down, she could feel after they were dead.
"It's them," she breathed, trembling even as his hand tightened on her arm, "It's him."
Before she realized it was happening the binoculars slipped from her grasp and landed on the ground with a dull thud and a slight splash. The two on the porch broke apart and Emma didn't dare to breathe, Jones' hold on her arm was almost painful now but her mistake seemed go unnoticed as the couple joined hands and sat on the nearby porch bench. She snatched up the binoculars and looped them around her neck.
Bringing her opposite hand up to her arm Emma covered his, gently prying his fingers away. Freed, she slowly turned to him, taken aback at the pure hatred written across his face, body poised as if to spring. "We need to go," she murmured, rising slightly and tugging at his hand. Worlds away, he didn't respond, "We can't risk this," she tried again.
Hell, she wanted to kill him too, but now was not the time to go after Gold, Jones should know that. Frustrated by his lack of response she reached her other hand out and grabbed him at the jaw, his stubble rasping against her fingers. Forcing his face towards her, she hissed, "Killian, we need to go. Now."
Jones blinked at the use of his given name and shook himself out the daze, eyebrows furrowing and jaw no less tense, but he listened. Nodding slowly, eyes cast down, he turned towards Emma and followed as she crept away from the tree line pulling him along. When it was clear that he would come of his own volition she slipped her hand away and continued, not daring to speak until they were back on the road.
It was a miserable hike, the rain only increased in ferocity and daylight was quickly dying. Puddles, inches deep obscured deep potholes and the water seeped its way into her boots further for every one she managed to step in. Soon her feet squelched with every step.
Furious with herself for dropping the binoculars and at Jones for losing control, Emma still couldn't put a name to what she was feeling about finally finding Gold and his nest. It certainly wasn't relief or even anger at seeing him, if she had to put a finger on it she would guess that she was afraid. Afraid of tomorrow and what they would try, afraid of what could happen in they failed, or what would happen if they won.
Glancing ahead Emma could just squint and see the outline of her bug, marking them at a point safe enough to talk. She abruptly turned on her heel, surprising Jones enough to stop, despite the large puddle he was now standing in. "What was that back there?" she questioned, punctuating her accusation with a sharp jab to his soaked, leather covered chest.
His hair was plastered to his forehead, rivulets of rain running down his cheeks and he was splattered with mud absolutely everywhere. Despite the mess he looked, Jones' eyes were clear and hostile, "You're asking me?" he snorted, stepping forward, "You could have just blown the whole bloody operation. I take back what I've said, love, you have a distinct lack of sticky fingers."
Not appreciating the way he was attempting to loom over her, Emma drew herself up so that they were as eye to eye as she could manage. "My mistake was an accident, they were wet and slipped out of my hand. I know it was my fault but you, you lost control."
His mouth twisted into a scowl but he didn't have a retort for her.
She sighed and took a step back, pushing back a soaked lock of hair, "What am I supposed to do tomorrow if you can't even handle seeing him from a hundred yards away?"
The tension slowly dissipated between them as the heat left his eyes and was replaced with the exhausting weight of their long journey, "I –" he started, but she could see the second the shutters closed in him, face schooled into a mask of indifference, before he gruffly said, "Won't happen again," and walked past her.
That certainly was not good enough.
"Killian, stop," she demanded, surprised when he actually listened. She took a few quick steps and was beside him again, "What were you going to say?" she asked.
His eyes flicked down involuntarily to his forearm where his tattoo lay before quickly passing it off as looking at some mud on his hook. His fingers reached to traced the curve of it, studiously ignoring her gaze, but not moving away either.
"That's who Milah is, right?" she pried carefully, hoping she hadn't misjudged the situation. For months now, the need to talk about Henry was overwhelming and had been crawling under her skin until she could hardly stand it. She was breathless, almost desperate to share what happened with someone else. Maybe Jones also just needed someone to listen and stop bottling it up inside.
He met her gaze finally. "She was my love, yes, and he killed her," he said, his usual bravado falling flat, "Is that what you want?" he asked, sounding every bit a broken man, eyes pleading with her.
Emma wanted him to be whole and sane and happy. Certainly none of those things were likely, unless they succeeded tomorrow, and so she said nothing.
She grabbed his hook, the closest part of him to her and started walking towards the car. Jones dutifully walked beside her, boots dragging in the mud and eyes now fixed on her fingers curled around silver.
"She was beautiful, dark curls and gray eyes, even the first time I laid eyes on her," he said softly, not slowing their pace, "Gold kidnapped her before I found the nest and was using her for his personal blood bank, but I stole her away."
He palmed at his brow, a nervous gesture of his, before glancing over at her, "I thought we were safe, and Gods knows why she wanted to stay with me but we fell in love..." he trailed off.
"What happened?" she pressed, running her fingers soothingly across the hook despite the fact she knew he couldn't feel it.
"He found us," Jones shrugged heavily, "Three of his nest held me back as he slaughtered her in front of me. The filthy crocodile didn't even have the mercy to kill me after but left me…" He motioned with the hook, "… like this."
Two sides of a coin, they were, she thought bitterly, forced to watch the person they loved most die, while powerless to stop it. It was fitting then, that they would be the ones to bring down Gold, Belle and the rest of the vamps.
"Your boy?" he asked, locking eyes with her, increasing the lump in her throat.
"Henry," she nodded, it was a relief just to say his name out loud, not just scream it in her dreams. "They came in through his window one night and…" she stopped, unable to describe what had ruined her that night, but she unzipped part of her jacket, shoving aside the collar and her wet hair. "They left me with this."
At the sight of the mangled scar tissue on the side of her neck, he squared his shoulders and set his jaw, determination seeping back into his stride. Maybe talking about their lose ones renewed their focus. Whatever it was, it had to be enough, because it's all they had. Their hatred and knowledge and desperation.
As they reached the bug, Emma let her fingers uncurl from around his hook, stiff and cold from how tight she'd been gripping it. Like a dog, Jones shook himself before wrenching open the stiff passenger door and taking a seat on the towel she'd thought to lay down before they started off.
Emma took a moment to herself, hand on the roof of the car, rain running down her face and rolling off her nose. She looked up, squinting against the falling drops, and stared into the darkened sky. In a dark corner of her heart she had the hope that Henry was somewhere better, but the emptiness inside ensured that that corner rarely saw the light. With a shiver, she realized her toes were numb and she was bone weary. Though unlikely to be rid of her exhaustion until Gold was dealt with, a good night's sleep wouldn't hurt.
She opened the bug door and slid into her seat, receiving an understanding nod from Jones who sat dripping on her upholstery and started the puddle ridden drive back. They kept the silence, only speaking once they were back at the motel to decide what time to wake, before he bid her goodnight.
The second her door shut, she was peeling off her wet layers and hanging them to dry before taking a much anticipated hot shower. Too tired to do anything else, she made due with towel drying her hair and dressing in a simple tank top before eyeing her bed appreciatively. The rainclouds slowly faded away just as she slid under her sheets, dreaming of love and loss before her head hit the pillow.
