"Woah, what did that bagel ever do to you?" David asked as he made his way into the kitchen, pausing to drop a kiss to his daughter's head.

"The stupid thing got stuck in the stupid toaster," she snapped out, as she began to assault her breakfast with the butter knife.

"Okay." David gave her a slightly wide berth as he made his way over to the coffee pot and poured mugs for each of them before he took a seat at the breakfast bar and shook out the day's paper. Emma didn't seem to notice that her father's attention appeared to be fixed on her, instead of the newspaper in his hands, as she continued to take out all of her frustrations on her battered bagel.

"Is everything okay?" he finally asked, bracing himself for that teenage fire he'd been burned by before.

"Sure." She finally turned around to face him and reached up to push her hair off her face, but David knew his daughter well enough to know when she was upset about something.

And that morning, she clearly was.

"What happened?"

For a moment, he was certain that Emma was going to blow off his question with yet more false reassurances. But after a second of contemplating her words, she finally put down the butter knife and asked, "Why do men feel the need to lie constantly?"

David raised a brow in question, but before he could say anything else, she pushed on with her rant. "I mean… I get why people lie. But… if you don't want to hurt someone, if you want to be their friend, then why would you start that friendship off without an outright lie? And I'm not talking about something small here like saying you're eighteen when you're actually seventeen, I'm talking about lying about who you are. Why does anyone do that? Surely they know they're gonna get found out eventually? Or is it really all just a game to you guys?"

When she seemed to run out of steam she eventually dropped down into the seat next to her father and downed half of her coffee in one impressively large gulp.

"Well… not all men lie," he began carefully, in a tone that told Emma he wasn't one of the men she was trying to lump into that category right then. "And I can't say I know for certain why this person lied to you, but there are a number of reasons why people do. Sometimes they do it just because it's in their nature to try and play people. And if that's what's happened here, I'm sorry you got caught in the crossfire, Ems. Sometimes they lie because they think that the lie will be better than the truth. And sometimes… sometimes they lie to protect the people they care about. It's not the right thing to do, but in the heat of the moment, it often feels like it is."

Emma dropped her head down to rest on her father's shoulder, just enjoying the comfort that he always brought to her when she needed it most. "Thanks, Dad," she whispered, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"It's what I'm here for. But I feel it's my duty as your father to inform you that if this boy who's hurt you ever shows up on our doorstep, I will hurt him. Physically."

"He won't," she chuckled, but she appreciated the gesture. While David often spent long hours working and away from the house, Emma was grateful to have him in her life.

She really couldn't have asked for a better father.

"Now… how about I make us some real breakfast?" he offered, standing up and stretching out his legs. "Something that doesn't look like it's gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson in the toaster."

Emma was in a slightly better mood when she pushed her way into the library later that morning, to find her friends already waiting for her.

"Hey Ems," August greeted, as he lifted his head from the book he was reading to flash her a mega-watt smile. "How did training go last night?"

"It uh… it was um… I don't wanna talk about it," she eventually mumbled, dropping down next to Zelena. "How's the research going?"

"Show her the board, Gold," August called out, sounding far too chipper for the early hour. And apparently, Emma's watcher agreed with her, as he left his office with a mug of coffee in one hand, while the other tugged a whiteboard along behind him. But the look on his face, when he turned in August's direction, was the picture-perfect definition of if looks could kill.

"Did you guys make a murder board?" Emma asked as she shot a glance around her small group of friends.

"We prefer to think of it as a slayer board," Zelena explained. Gold turned the blank side facing them to reveal one that was covered in photocopied sheets of paper with scribbles all over them, and large lines that emerged from the word THE MASTER written in bold black letters.

As her eyes darted over the different pieces of information written and pinned to it, Emma took a moment to appreciate that Zelena had clearly tried to jazz things up a little, with her colorful flower grouping in either corner. But most of her attention was focused on the other branches that the group had seemingly managed to establish as being something worthy of their time and investigation.

THE HELLMOUTH

MILAH

THE HARVEST

HOOK

Emma opened her mouth to ask about the harvest, but her eyes were stuck on the last branch of the tree, with a familiar term written upon it.

"Wha uh… What's a hook gotta do with all of this?" she finally squeezed out, as she willed her face not to give away her concerns.

"It's actually the name of a vampire," August supplied. "I know, I know. I couldn't believe it either. But apparently this guy made a name for himself torturing his victims with a fisherman's hook, before he killed them. Hence the name."

Emma's vision was started to blacken at the edges, as the blood rushing through her ears drowned out whatever else it was her friends were saying.

"I've been known as Hook for far longer than I was known by my given name.".

All of her hope that what had happened the night before; that maybe her father had been right and he was just trying to protect her, flew out of the window at the sight of that one name written on their slayer board.

Because if what August had said was true, then Hook wasn't just like the rest of his kind – he was worse. And he'd definitely been playing her if he was connected to both the Hellmouth and the Master.

Emma didn't hear another word that was being spoken. As her stomach churned away at the breakfast her father had so lovingly prepared for them that morning, she scrambled out of her seat and reached for the nearest trashcan.

Happy New Year.

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