A/N: I am SO SORRY, this update has taken so long! I am notoriously bad at updating multichapters (see: every other fic on my profile), but I hope you guys will stick with me because this fic is near and dear to my heart. This is my favorite chapter yet, and coincidentally my longest chapter. So without further ado...

Summary: Once Upon a Time meets True Blood, starring Killian and Graham as vampires, and Emma as the town Sheriff who gets sucked into their crazy world.

Chapter 4

Emma spent the day engrossed in the newspapers Killian had left on her doorstep, combing over every paragraph covering the three murders that had occurred in Eunice, LA more than 15 years prior. Killian was right; certain details seemed to be almost identical to the murders that had happened in Bon Temps. All the victims bludgeoned to death, no sign of forced entry into their homes, no fingerprints or DNA left behind at the crime scene. There was no doubt in her mind that the two serial killers were one and the same.

The Eunice Sheriff's Office had expedited over their case files on the murders as Emma had requested, but the files only raised more questions. There had been a few suspects in the case, but all had either alibied out or were already died long before the murders had started in Bon Temps.

About ready to tear her hair out, Emma turned her attention to one of the victims, Milah Gold, Killian's companion, as he had said. She studied one of the photographs in her file, one of her with her arm around a young boy in front of a birthday cake. Milah was beautiful, with long, dark hair and high cheekbones with her lips curved into a radiant smile. She seemed almost familiar to Emma, in a way she couldn't quite place.

She turned the picture over. Bae's 6th birthday, 1985, was written on the back in tidy scrawl. So, this picture had been taken four years before her death. The woman hadn't known she wouldn't live to see her son turn fifteen. A shiver ran up Emma's spine at the thought and she put the picture to the side.

The crime scene photos of Milah Gold were some of the most gruesome Emma had ever seen. Milah's beautiful face was mashed in to the point of being unrecognizable. There was blood everywhere, as though the murderer had wanted to expel every last drop of it. Maybe, despite vampires not being out of the coffin yet, the killer had somehow known about Milah's involvement with Killian.

Emma shuffled around the papers until she came to the statement from Milah's husband at the time, Rupert Gold, who said he'd been working late at the time of his wife's murder. According to the files, the Eunice sheriffs had arrested Gold as a suspect but had never been able to charge him with anything due to lack of evidence. Emma thumbed through the photos again, searching for a photo of the man, but came up empty handed.

She tried to move on to the other victims, see if maybe there was something she was overlooking in their cases, but she couldn't get the crime scene photos of Milah Gold out of her head. Someone had wanted her to suffer, had unleashed a brutal fury upon her that surpassed the cruelty shown to the other victims. Her gut told her that it had been personal with Milah, and she couldn't shake the fact that no one had actually seen Rupert Gold working late that night.

A Google search of his name brought up the same article that Killian had given her and a picture of Milah, but there was virtually nothing on Rupert Gold. It was as if the man hadn't even existed.

"Hi, this is Sheriff Swan from the Bon Temps Sheriff's Office," Emma said into her desk phone minutes later. "I need all the information you have on Rupert Gold, and a picture if you have one."

"I'm sorry, Sheriff," the voice on the other line said. "The only one with access to that information is Sheriff Jameson, and he's off today."

Emma huffed impatiently. "But, your office gave me the case files associated with his wife's murder earlier no problem," she argued, before changing course. "Whatever, nevermind that, is there anyway you could call him and tell him it's an emergency?"

The lady sounded skeptical. "The sheriff likes to go fishing on his days off, and is mostly unreachable, but I can try," she told Emma. "Do you have a phone number he can reach you at?"

"Yes, he can reach me at my cell phone," Emma replied immediately, giving her the digits. "And again, please tell him it's urgent."

They disconnected and Emma rested her head in her hands. She supposed she had Killian to thank for this. Maybe if she wasn't still so pissed at him for being a high-handed bastard, she would feel a little more grateful. He had been right about the effects of his blood; her bruises were completely gone and rather than feeling like she'd been hit by a bus, she felt strong and healthy, better than she had in a long while. Even her hair seemed shinier and blonder than usual.

"Mom?"

"Henry?" Frowning slightly, Emma lowered her hand, fixing her son with a confused look. She'd been so lost in thought, she hadn't even heard his footsteps. "What're you doing here?"

Henry sighed, "You didn't forget about the wake, did you? Aunt Ruby's expecting us over in an hour."

Emma swore mentally. She'd been so absorbed in her work, she had in fact completely forgotten that Ruby had planned a small wake at the diner the night before Granny's funeral. She glanced from the files to the clock. It seemed like days rather than hours ago since she'd found Killian's package on her doorstep, and it felt like finally she was getting somewhere. Could she really drop everything now right when she might be on the verge of a breakthrough.

One look at Henry's face was all it took for her to begin packing up her things. The case would have to wait. It was time to say goodbye to Granny.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," Ruby said quietly, glancing around the length of the diner where it seemed more than half of the town had crammed inside. At her side, Emma gave her hand a comforting squeeze, and Ruby shot her a watery smile. "It would have touched Granny's heart to see everyone gathered here in her honor." A sudden laugh bubbled unsteadily out of Ruby. "Maybe touched isn't the right word, she would've gotten a kick out of everyone making such a fuss over her."

There were a few titters at that around the diner, and even Emma smiled, through tears ran down her cheeks. On the other side of her, Henry's arms around her waist tightened, and she smoothed his hair down soothingly.

"She may not have always shown it," Ruby went on. "But Granny loved this town and she loved all of you. She was always here when you needed something, whether it was a sympathetic ear or a plate of her famous Lasagna." She took a shaky breath. "Tomorrow we-tomorrow we say goodbye to Granny, but the diner and the inn will remain open to anyone in Bon Temps who needs it. It's what Granny would have wanted after all."

Ruby's chin trembled, and Emma could see she was on the verge of losing it. Swallowing, she came to her best friend's aid. "A toast," she piped up, grabbing a glass of punch from the counter behind her. Ruby shot her a grateful look, and did the same. Everyone in the diner held up their glasses. At the back of the room, she spied Graham, watching her intently, a TruBlood in his raised hand. "To Granny," she said simply. It felt woefully understated, but there was no simple and concise way of conveying exactly how much Emma had loved the woman, or how grateful she was that she'd taken her in all those years ago.

"Granny," everyone in the diner echoed.

It was hard hearing everyone's condolences, from the group of older woman Granny went hunting with to the different patrons who had eaten at the diner daily, but Emma loyally stayed by Ruby's side the whole night until only a few people were left. Henry had long since fallen asleep in one of the booths, it was probably high time she got him home, especially if they needed to be up early in the morning.

"Oh, Ruby, Emma," a concerned voice turned her attention away from her slumbering son. Belle French, the town librarian and one of Emma and Ruby's closest friends was pulling Ruby into a comforting hug. "We would have come over sooner, but we didn't want to monopolize you," she said before turning to Emma.

Over her shoulder, she could see Belle's husband, Mr. French. "We're very sorry for your loss, dearies," Mr. French said, the gold tooth in his mouth gleaming in the light of the diner. "Your grandmother was an...extraordinary woman."

There was something about Belle's husband that had given her the willies ever since she'd met her, but Emma could never put her finger on it. There was nothing overtly sinister about the man, but he'd never been particularly warm to her in all the years she'd known him either. Mr. French owned a popular antique store in town and also acted as landlord for several real estate properties around Bon Temps including Emma's own house. He was older than Belle by probably 20 years Emma estimated, but her dark haired friend looked up at him like he was a fairytale prince, and that was usually enough to allay any concerns she had about him and his lack of social skills.

"How are you both doing?" Belle asked, clasping both of their hands in hers.

"Better," Ruby assured her, though her eyes were sad, devoid of their usual sparkle. "It's just, I keep expecting her to walk through the door complaining about the price of flour or guilt tripping me into wearing that red cloak she knit me, and then I remember she's not there and, I just wish I'd told her how much she meant to me..."

She trailed off, shaking her head, and Emma wrapped an arm around her waist, resting her chin on Ruby's shoulder. "She knew, Ruby," Emma told her, and Belle rubbed Ruby's arm soothingly.

"Have you made any progress catching the killer?" Mr. French asked her after a moment.

"I have a few leads," Emma told him, feeling wary about divulging any information, especially to him, but determined not to show it. "It's only a matter of time before I nab the bastard."

French smiled indulgently. "I'm sure it is." He slipped his hand into Belle's. "Come along, dearie. The ladies have a long day ahead of them tomorrow. You might want to think about getting your boy home, Miss Swan," he said, gesturing to Henry's slumbering form with the cane he used. "It's probably past his bedtime."

If there was one thing Emma hated more than anything it was people telling her what to do with her own child, but for Belle's sake, all she did was give him a tight smile before saying goodbye to the couple. Ruby turned away to start cleaning up, and Emma debated with herself internally, wanting to help her friend, but also knowing that she did need to get Henry home.

"Go," a soft lilting voice said close to her ear. She whipped her head around to face Graham. He was looking past her to Ruby. "I'll help her clean up."

She nodded, shrugging into her jacket as she studied his profile. "You sure kept your distance tonight," she said, wishing the instant that the words were out that she could take them back. Hypocrite, she mentally chided herself.

Graham's dark eyes were solemn. "I won't let our relationship, whatever it may be, make you a target," he told her. His gaze met hers, suddenly. "Staying away from you is harder than it looks, however."

Emma knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't resist the comfort that she knew Graham could give her. Was it so wrong to want to be held when it felt like your whole world had turned upside down? "Then, don't," she said simply.

He studied her for a long moment. It was bit unnerving when he did that since he didn't have to blink. "I won't be able to attend the funeral tomorrow, for obvious reasons," he finally said. "Perhaps, after I'm done here, I could call upon you?"

"I may or may not have a couple of TruBlood's in the fridge with your name on them," she told him with a small smile. "See you later."

Emma walked over to the booth where Henry was sleeping and shook him awake. He blinked blearily up at her as he came to, peering around his surroundings with gradual clarity.

"Time to go home?" he yawned, sitting up.

"Home or…," she considered his little face for a moment. "I was thinking we could grab some ice cream, but if you're too tired…"

Henry's face lit up brighter than she'd seen it in days. "Ice cream? Really, Mom? Please, please, please?"

"Why not?" she shrugged. It had been a hard few days for her son, and a little ice cream went a long way sometimes. "Come on, kiddo, Any Given Sundae closes at 9 o'clock sharp."

They were driving down the long lane to the house about half an hour later, and the moment she stepped out of the car, she felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. Something was wrong. Henry, on a sugar high and oblivious to her alarm, bounded up the front steps to the front door.

"Henry-"

"Mom, you left the front door open," Henry scolded playfully, and immediately Emma had her gun out of her purse and ran up the steps after him, eyes darting every which way.

"Henry, get back," she ordered, pushing him protectively behind her.

Emma nudge the door, the door she specifically remembered locking behind her, and it swung open without any resistance. Someone had been here. Her heart was beating fast in her chest, adrenaline rushing through her. They could still be here.

The porch step creaked behind them, and Emma swung around, her gun outstretched in her hands, safety off, only to meet Graham's frozen on the top stop. His pale hands glowed in the darkness as he held them out placatingly.

"Emma, what-?"

"Someone's broken into my house," she whispered, trying to temper the panic in her voice, well aware of her son trembling behind her. "They could still be here."

Graham's fangs popped down and he angled his head around. "Wait here," he said, before he was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Mom," came Henry's small voice, and Emma wanted more than anything to reach out and comfort him, but she had to stay alert.

"Everything's gonna be alright, Henry," she told him as confidently as possible.

After an agonizing minute, Graham was back. "I swept through the whole house and the yard," he reported . "Whoever was here is gone now."

All the tension drained out of her and she clicked the safety of her gun back on before kneeling and pulling Henry into her arms. "Everything's fine, we're okay," she murmured in his ear. "We're okay."

Emma drank in the sight of her son sleeping peacefully in his bed one last time before closing the door as quietly as she could behind her. She crept back into the living room and found Graham engaged in what she called vampire downtime, where he just stared into space, silent and unmoving. It was more than a little eerie, so Emma faked a cough, which drew him out of it. He immediately stood, though he waited for her to come to him.

"Henry asleep?" he asked.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "I would have rathered he sleep with me in my room tonight, but he insisted he was alright to sleep on his own."

"And are you alright, Emma?" Graham asked, his eyes full of concern.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, but felt a sudden burst of agitation. "No, you know what? I'm not fine," she amended, beginning to pace. "I'm pissed. This guy thinks he can come into my house, threaten my son, and mess with my head? He's got another thing coming. You catch a whiff of anyone?"

"Not anyone familiar to me," he said regretfully. "You're sure you don't want to call your deputies in?"

"And have them do what?" Emma asked skeptically. "Dust for prints? I already know there aren't any. This guy's not some amateur, he knows how to cover his tracks. He did this to try and throw me off so I'll drop the case. Well, I hope he's happy 'cause he's just made me that more determined. When that creep comes back, he's going to get an up close and personal look at my gun."

Graham stopped her pacing, gripping her shoulders lightly. She blinked, looking up into his pale, but handsome, face. "Emma, Henry's not the only one who needs his rest," he reasoned. "You should get some sleep, too. I will stand watch until dawn. You and Henry will be safe."

Emma shook her head. "I couldn't ask you to do that, Graham."

He smiled, moving closer to her ever so slightly. "You didn't ask, I offered."

They were standing too close all of a sudden. His eyes searched hers, and it occurred to her distantly that he wanted to kiss her. His lips seemed only a hair's breadth away from hers, all she had to do was stretch a little higher, it would be easy, but no, she couldn't, she shouldn't, God, she wanted to, but that would complicate everything. He would want her to be his, and she was never anybody's for very long before they tossed her to the side like she was nothing.

Emma closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before pulling back. She opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of Graham's disappointed expression before he fixed his features into an impenetrable mask.

"Thank you, Graham," she whispered. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Emma."

She slipped into her room and closed the door behind her, fingers itching to lock the door. Emma didn't know whether it was to keep him out or herself in.

She stripped out of her clothes and pulled on her favorite nightgown. The day had been warm, but the night was cool, and Emma pulled her comforter all the way up when she got into bed. She lay there for a long time, too aware of Graham in her living room, before she finally fell asleep.

Cold lips were brushing kisses across her bare shoulders as equally cold fingers idly caressed her left breast. Emma smiled, eyes still closed.

"Mmm, Graham," she moaned. "That feels so good."

Both lips and fingers halted in their ministrations, and she suddenly found herself on her back and pinned to her mattress by a large and solid body. She opened her eyes to see Killian grinning down at her, his hair sticking up every which way, eyes glinting with dark promise.

"You think you're so clever, don't you, love?" he asked, sliding her arms up so that he could lock both of her wrists above her head with one hand.

Her grin grew wider still, even knowing that she was trapped, completely at his mercy. "Yeah, I do," she said playfully.

Killian chuckled, inching his free hand lower and lower down her body, closing in on where she was aching for him. "I'll show you clever, Swan," he said, before mercilessly digging his fingers under her ribs where she was the most ticklish.

"Killian, Killian, no!" she hissed, shrieking with laughter, bucking her hips to get away from him, but she was no match for his vampire strength.

"Shh, Swan," he chided with glee. "You'll wake up your lad."

She writhed underneath, unable to help her breathless laughter. When finally he relented, he gazed down as her, blue eyes full of amusement as she mock-glared up at him. Laughing, he released her, rolling off onto his side, and she softened and followed, settling her head next to his on the pillow.

"You know, everyone thinks you're this heartless bastard, but you're really just a big softie," Emma said, fingers coming up to trace the stubble on his cheeks that hadn't grown in 300 years.

"Only with you, darling." He took her hand in his, drawing it to his lips, placing kisses on her fingers, on the back of her palm, on her wrist.

"Why me, though?"

"Why?" Killian echoed, entwining their fingers together. "Because you're the most brilliant, amazing, strong, and beautiful woman I've ever known." He punctuated each word with a kiss, and his lips were cool against her own.

She should have felt moved by his words, but there was a niggling in the back of her brain that wouldn't go away. "You don't even really know me, though," she whispered, even as his lips traced their way across her face and along her jaw.

"But I will." His tone was confident and full of weight as pulled back to meet her gaze with his own, holding it for a long moment. "Emma, this is the beginning," he declared, before his lips descended on hers, passionate and demanding.

It didn't feel remotely wrong at all to respond, to draw him over her again so that his body rested on top of hers, to run her fingers along his scalp. Everything in the world seemed to disappear until there was nothing but the points where his skin met hers. His lips left her mouth and trailed down her throat, and she felt a pricking of her skin when his fangs dropped down. Was he going to bite her? She moaned aloud at the thought and-

Emma gasped, eyes popping open to stare at the ceiling of her bedroom. She looked wildly around her room, but she was alone. Alone and completely aroused. Her breasts ached to be touched, her nipples tight and poking through her nightgown. Emma threw the covers off and went to the window, opening it to let the night air cool her flushed body.

She closed her eyes and leaned her elbows against the window sill, willing her heart to stop racing. The dream had felt so real. If she touched her lips, would they be swollen from his kisses?

There was a sudden gust of wind from outside and Emma opened her eyes only for her heart to stop in her chest. Killian was standing five feet away from her window, fangs extended, looking as darkly gorgeous as she'd seen him what felt like only minutes before. She practically whimpered at the sight of him.

"Please tell me this isn't another dream," Emma pleaded. She didn't think she could handle it.

Killian raised an eyebrow, his lips slowly forming into a smirk. "Another?" he repeated, coming closer. "You've been dreaming about me, Swan? Is that what's got you so…" His eyes took in her still flushed face, her hardened nipples beneath her nightgown. "Worked up?"

Emma said nothing as all the blood drained from her face. She definitely wasn't dreaming. He really was here. Graham said he would be able to feel her emotions now since she'd drank his blood. He could probably feel how aroused she was, and she'd just admitted it was because of him. Good Lord, was she in trouble.

Killian was wearing a full blown grin now, displaying his prominent fangs. "Well, love," he said, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

A/N: Who broke into Emma's house? Better yet, what the hell's Killian doing there? Are they ever going to bang like they both obviously want to? And what's the deal with Graham? Tune in next time, for these answers and more! Please review :)