A/N: This is probably a personal record for me, didn't I just update last month? LOL, probably not soon enough for most of you, but I'm pretty proud of myself cause normally I suck at updating! Anyway, this chapter is pretty intense, I hope you guys are ready for it! :)

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

Chapter 6

Her heart was beating faster than it probably ever had in her life. Suddenly, she could hear nothing beyond the blood rushing through her ears until;

"Something wrong, Miss Swan?"

His voice jarred her out of her stupor, and she quickly clicked her phone off and plastered a smile on her face, turning to the man, the murderer, next to her. "Of course," she said. She jiggled her phone in her hand. "Work stuff, you know, crime doesn't take a day off."

"No rest for the wicked, as they say," French, or Gold, or whoever the hell he was, chuckled.

Emma hummed in agreement, giving him a tight lipped smile before casually looking back at Henry. Her son was oblivious to her inner turmoil, looking out the window at the familiar sights passing by. She turned back around, facing forward, trying to stay calm for his sake. Who knew Gold's actual motives for driving them home. He'd made it clear by breaking into their home last night that she was his next target.

Suddenly, it dawned on her clear as day how he'd gotten into her house when she distinctly remembered locking the door. The guy was her freaking landlord, he had a spare key! In fact, all of the places he'd broken into, Aurora's, Ariel's, Granny's, he was the landlord for all of their buildings. There'd been no signs of any forced entry because he hadn't needed to force the entry, he had keys to half the properties in town!

Emma swallowed, noting with increasing panic that they were only minutes away from the house. She needed a plan. Unfortunately, she'd foolishly left her gun and handcuffs at home, what had she been thinking? She hardly thought Gold would come quietly, and then there was Henry to consider, she had to get him out of the way and to safety. But how to do that without alerting Gold that she was on to him?

"Do you have a minute, Mr. French?" Emma asked as they pulled up her long driveway. She took her seatbelt off, looking over at him as earnestly as possible. "Granny left me a few things in her will, a couple of them I don't really have any use for. I was thinking, maybe you'd like them for your shop?"

Gold smiled indulgently. "Of course, Miss Swan," he said, putting the car in park. "I'd be happy to take them off your hands."

Emma returned his smile best she could, and then the three of them exited the car, Henry bounding ahead of them, though he waited patiently for Emma to unlock the door. Her heart thudded in her chest as she pushed open the front door, inviting a suspected serial killer into her home. All she needed to do was get Henry away and grab her gun and handcuffs from the safe. Her eyes flitted around the foyer a plan rapidly forming in her mind.

Emma gestured to the kitchen. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable while I grab the items. Henry, can you give me a hand?"

Henry followed after her, blissfully ignorant, and oh, how Emma longed to spare him from this. She led the way into her room and shut the door behind them with a soft click. Henry frowned and opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could speak, kneeling down in front of him.

"Henry, I need you to do everything I say, quickly and without questions," Emma told him tersely, and he caught on to her mood, his eyes wide but alert. "Mr. French is not who we think he is. I need to take him down, and I can't have you here while I do it. You know how I've always told you not to take the shortcut through the woods to Nicholas and Ava's?"

Henry bobbed his head. "Well, I want you to forget that and run as fast as you can there and stay with them and their dad until I come and get you."

He began to shake his head. "But Mom-"

"No, 'buts', Henry," she interrupted, scooting him over to the window. The room faced the back of the house and the kitchen windows faced the front so there was little chance Gold would see him. "I can't do my job if I'm worried about you. You have to go."

Her brave boy searched her eyes before nodding. He climbed up on the windowsill as she lifted the window and screen as quietly as possible. She grabbed his hands and lowered him down, glad for maybe the first time ever that they lived in a modest one story home.

"I love you, Henry," she whispered. "Now, run ."

He took off like a shot, and Emma watched as he disappeared into the treeline. Quickly, she took out her gun and cuffs, and also, for good measure, off the black heels she'd worn for the funeral. She breathed deeply, mentally preparing herself for the coming confrontation. She'd arrested a lot of people in her career, first as a deputy and then as Sheriff, but never had it felt so utterly personal before.

Emma put on her game face and opened her door, but when she stepped out into the living room, she heard a cry in the kitchen that made her heart stop.

"Mom!"

Emma raced through the living room to the kitchen where she found Gold holding a struggling Henry around the neck, a manic grin on his face. She gaped at them, raising her gun to point at the man, mind reeling. She had seen Henry make off into the woods. This didn't make sense.

"How?" Emma demanded, eyes alertly watching Gold's every move, and tried to ignore the fear pulsing through her at Henry in his grasp.

"How indeed?" Gold chuckled shrilly, no longer leaning on his cane, but holding it in his hand. "Magic, one might say."

"There's no such thing," she retorted. Anything to keep him talking, to keep him focused on her and not on her son.

"Ah, but you of all people know that's not true, Miss Swan," he told her, with a touch of bitterness. "I had to take my magic. You, on the other hand, have had it just handed to you."

"I don't have any magic," Emma said, tiring of playing this game. "Now, the jig is up, Gold. I know you're behind all of the murders, here and in Eunice. If you let Henry go and come along quietly, I might even let my deputies bring you food in your cell."

"Kind of you," Gold sneered, tightening his grip around Henry's neck, making him struggle and cry out.

Emma clicked off the safety on her gun. "Let go of my son, you bastard," she growled.

"Oh, I don't think so," the man practically giggled, before his expression twisted into one of complete disgust. "It's a shame poor Henry had to get mixed up in all of this since it's you I'm after anyway, you dirty fangbanger ." He shuffled around, still a tight grip on Henry, and Emma was forced to move as well, until Gold's back was to the entrance to the kitchen and only exit. "How many times have you opened your legs for that monster, let him sink his teeth in you. You make me sick !"

"The only monster I see here is you," Emma seethed with a quiet rage. "You killed your wife all because she left you for another man, a vampire. The way I heard it, you didn't even attempt to fight for her." Gold's eyes widened in surprise, before hardening, even colder than before. "Oh, yes, Killian told me everything."

"Killian?" Gold repeated, with a dark glee. "Have you become his whore as well? How lovely. Did he tell you all about how he stole my Milah away from me?"

"She went willingly, and you damn well know it," she said, still with her gun aimed at him. "Why else would you have killed her?"

Her words angered him, and for a moment his eyes flashed yellow and his skin took on an almost reptilian quality. "Enough chit chat!" he exclaimed and snapped his fingers.

Emma jumped when suddenly, the weight of her gun was no longer in her hand, but in Gold's, clenched in the hand that was wrapped around her son's neck, a triumphant grin on the psychopath's face. With another wave of his hand, her handcuffs disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. She started towards them, hand outstretched towards Henry, but froze when Gold pointed the barrel up at Henry's jaw.

"Stop, stop !" she choked out. One wrong move and she knew Gold wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Emma struggled to compose herself, holding out her hands placatingly. "Stop. I'm the one you want. Let Henry go, he has nothing to do with this."

Gold seemed to consider this. "Ah, perhaps you're right," he said, loosening his hold a bit. Emma tried to stay focused on him, but her eyes dropped down to Henry, and her heart leapt in her throat at the look in his speculative gleam in his eye. "Who knows, maybe after I'm done with you, I'll erase his memory and Belle and I can take the boy in. She's always wanted a son."

"I'll never be your son!"

"Henry, no!"

But she was too late. Henry wrestled free of Gold's lax grip, stomped on his foot as hard as his little 10 year old body could, before also elbowing the man right in the groin. Gold grunted in pain, falling to his knees, fingers losing their hold on Emma's gun, and she seized the opportunity and went diving after it.

"Run, Henry!" Emma said getting to her feet and delivering a swift kick to Gold's side, reveling in the weight of her gun in her hand once more.

Henry ran out of the kitchen and out the front door, and Emma made to follow, but Gold's hand wrapped around her ankle, forcing her to the ground. He crawled over her and began landing blows with his cane to any part of her he could reach, with more strength than she would have thought possible for his age. Her shoulders, her chest, her head, her face. She screamed in aggravation as they struggled, tasting blood in her mouth and spitting it out.

Emma finally got the upper hand, elbowing him in the face, and he went down, crumpling to the hardwood floor of the foyer, clutching at his likely broken nose. Emma got to her feet, pointing her gun straight at him, safety clicked off. She didn't have time to think it over, she had to incapacitate him somehow and before he used his magic to take away her gun again.

Aiming carefully, she fired with rapid succession at both of Gold's kneecaps. The man howled with pain, blood spurting across her foyer, though he still managed to curse her out for being a "fangbanger bitch" and a "filthy goddamned slut", but she took it, letting out all of the tension in her body as she breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't going anywhere now.

She left him there, pounding down the front porch steps. Big fat raindrops fell from the sky, wetting her face, and the dark storm clouds above her threatened more.

"Henry!" Emma called, cupping her hands around her mouth. She just needed her son back in her arms, needed to look him in his little face and tell him that everything was okay and that she'd never let anyone hurt him or take him away from her.

Her bare feet took her across the yard towards the woods, sure that Henry had fled this way when she'd told him to run. The woods were dark due to the leafy coverage of the trees and Henry hadn't left a trail behind. "Henry!"

"Mom?"

Emma's head snapped up, peering up into the trees. Sure enough, her clever boy had climbed up a large elm tree, and was on a branch an impressive height up.

"Henry!" she said, smiling in relief. "Everything's okay, you can come down now."

Emma watched anxiously as he climbed down and then met him at the bottom, sweeping him into the tightest of embraces. She pulled back, running her eyes over him from head to toe. "Are you alright?" she asked. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Henry shook his head. "Where's Mr. French?" he asked, his eyes bright with excitement.

"I may or may not have shot out his kneecaps," Emma admitted.

"Cool!" he said. "Nice one, Mom!"

Emma sighed, shaking her head, her heart finally slowing down now that the danger had passed. "Come on," she said, taking his hand. "I need to call in backup. Get Mr. French to the Sheriff's Station."

"Not so fast, dearie."

His voice made her blood run cold. She whipped around to face Gold, pushing Henry protectively behind her. The man stood no more than 50 feet away from them, looking no worse for wear, certainly not like he was in excruciating pain, and the panic sprung up anew.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked, moving towards them. He waved his hand and suddenly Emma couldn't move her arms or legs or any part of her body, couldn't even pull the trigger on her gun. He had them frozen, trapped like prey.

"What are you?" Emma asked, knowing the best thing to do was to keep him talking while she figured out a plan.

"What, you were that naive that you thought vampires were the only supernatural creatures out there?" he responded. "You might say, I made a deal with the devil."

"You're a demon," Emma said, a new tendril of fear curling inside of her.

"Incubus," Gold corrected. "But, you, know, technicalities."

"Does Belle know?" she asked, cursing her voice for trembling.

"No, and she never will," he said darkly. "Not after I kill you."

He stalked forward, cane in his hand, and was almost upon them when suddenly a pale hand burst up through the earth, snagging Gold's ankle. Still frozen thanks to Gold's magic, Emma could only watch as Killian emerged from the ground naked, body covered in dirt, fangs extended, and blue eyes stormy with rage.

"You!" Gold sneered, lip curling in hatred.

"Me," Killian returned, before flying at the man with an inhuman roar.

The two fought ferociously, at inhuman speeds, punching and kicking, Killian throwing Gold into a tree at one point. But it became clear that, though it was cloudy and the trees provided good cover, the sun's rays was taking a heavy toll on Killian. His skin began to smoke as though it was burning and Emma cried out his name at the sight. Her shout caught his attention, and Gold took advantage. His cane transformed into a sword and he swung it with precision, severing Killian's left hand at the wrist.

The vampire bellowed in pain, falling onto his side with Gold standing over him in triumph.

"Finally, a punishment fit for a thief," he crowed, kicking his side, bringing the vampire to the ground right in a patch of light, and the sound of sizzling flesh echoed through the trees.

Emma's heart pounded in her chest as Gold made merry, slashing here and there, Killian's blood leaking from his wounds sluggishly, wounds that weren't healing in the slightest. She and Henry were still frozen, watching helplessly as Gold toyed with Killian, making him a vampire pincushion.

But if there was one thing Emma Swan was not, it was helpless.

She thought of her superpower and how she'd been able to read Candy's mind that night. There was something inside her, something she couldn't explain but had been bursting to get out of her all her life. And she needed that something more than ever now. Emma could feel it welling up inside her, returning feeling to her arms and legs. Emma gritted her teeth, feeling Gold's spell upon her like a physical bubble, one that she could pop if she could just channel her strength. Slowly, and against the resistance of what felt like 100 tons, she was able to shakily raise her arms. The sight of Killian's blood and burned body on the ground spurred her the rest of the way.

"Leave. Him. Alone!" Emma commanded, the spell around her shattering, causing her to pitch forward.

Whatever she did, had knocked Gold away from Killian, and the demon lay motionless on the ground. Emma spared him a hesitant glance, but he didn't stir as she rushed over to Killian, dropping to her knees next to him. His body was a mess of slashes, burns, and blood, but he still managed to open his eyes at the touch of her hand.

"Felt your panic," he rasped out. "Had to do something."

"We need to get you somewhere light tight," Emma said urgently, running her eyes over his rapidly smoking skin.

His eyes widened suddenly, but he was looking past her. "Swan-!"

She wasted no time. Turning, she brought her pistol up and fired, pumping three 9-millimeter bullets straight into Gold's head.

"Heal that, you son of a bitch," she spat.

He fell backwards, a look of surprise on his mangled face, and landed on the ground with a certain finality. Emma kept her gun trained on him, breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through her veins, but the man didn't so much as twitch. Nearby, Henry was freed from the spell, and he rushed over, throwing his arms around her waist, and Emma clutched him tight against her.

"How do you kill a demon?" Emma asked Killian frantically over her son's head.

Killian chuckled dryly, though the effect was ruined by him coughing up blood. "That'll do, Swan, believe me."

Henry peered down at the vampire curiously. "Is he gonna be alright, Mom?" he asked, seeming utterly unfazed.

"He will be if we get him into the house," Emma said, trying to exude confidence she didn't feel. Killian looked undoubtedly worse, his skin literally smoldering. "Henry, go grab the big tarp from the shed."

Henry nodded, taking off, and Emma knelt back by Killian's side. He appeared to be slipping in and out of consciousness, and Emma shook him by the shoulder.

"Killian?" she asked. "Killian, stay with me!"

Flames erupted suddenly, licking up his legs up to his chest, and he screamed in pain.

"No, no, no," Emma moaned, looking for something, anything, to help blot out the flames, when a loud crack of thunder split the sky and the heaven's opened, the rain finally coming pouring down, extinguishing the flames. Emma had never been the most religious of people, but she couldn't help rejoicing. "Thank you, thank you, God ."

Henry came rushing back, hair plastered to his forehead, dragging the blue tarp they normally used for leaf raking behind him. Together, they rolled Killian onto it and enfolded it around him, shielding him from the UV rays. It took a good ten minutes to drag him back to the house, where she had to invite his unconscious form in again before they could tug him inside.

"Where are we gonna put him?"" Henry asked.

"The basement," Emma replied, and they slid the tarp over to the basement door.

Carefully, and not trying to inflict any more damage, they pulled him down the stairs before finally getting him settled on the cement floor.

Emma surveyed the room. It wasn't very big, and they mostly used it for storage; Christmas decorations, various art/science projects of Henry's, and winter clothes. There were two little rectangular windows that looked out above the ground level.

"We have to cover those up," she told Henry, nodding to them.

"Will this work?" Henry asked, grabbing up a roll of black duct tape.

Emma nodded. "Good thinking, kid."

They set about making the room light tight, and only when the windows were all covered did Emma pull back the tarp from Killian's face. His skin was no longer smoking, but that was about the only positive thing she could have said.

"What do we do now?" Henry asked her.

Emma blew out a deep breath. "Now, we wait."

Henry nodded and tramped back up the stairs, but Emma stayed for a moment kneeling next to Killian. If he hadn't intervened when he did, Emma was sure Gold would have killed her, and the thought made her shiver. The vampire had saved her again it seemed, making that twice in the span of three days.

Maybe it was time she repaid the favor.

Emma's deputies arrived within minutes of her radioing them, bringing along the paramedics and town coroner. The paramedics gave Henry the clear, but had to patch up a few cuts on Emma's face. The bruises and bumps would have to heal on their own time, and Emma knew she was lucky to have escaped with just that.

In the kitchen, she gave her statement to Leroy and Lance and sat with Henry while they questioned him. Before they'd shown up, Emma had mentioned to him that perhaps it would be best if they didn't mention Gold being a demon or Emma's "magic", though she still wasn't convinced it could be called such a thing. She wasn't sure if she should've been proud or suspicious of how well her son skirted over the truth, so instead she just settled for relieved that it was finally over.

All except one thing.

When Belle's car pulled up the driveway, Emma could see the confusion and fear on her face as she took in the ambulance, police cruisers, and her husband's Cadillac. She rushed out of the car and met Emma at the porch steps, her beautiful face frantic.

"Emma, what is it?" she asked. "Has something happened to Robert? They wouldn't tell me over the phone."

Emma swallowed. "Belle, I think it's best if you come inside and sit down," she told her, trying to fall back on protocol.

"Whatever you have to tell me, you can tell me out here," Belle insisted. She grabbed one of her hands. "Please, Emma."

Emma sighed and drew her friend over to her porch swing. It was hard for Emma to even look her in the eye, even knowing that she'd been left with no choice. "Belle, Mr. French is dead," she said, as gently as possible.

Belle's face crumpled as Emma's words sunk in, tears sliding down her cheeks. "What?" she asked, her chest shuddering with suppressed sobs. "How?"

"Belle, this is going to be hard for you to hear, but he wasn't who you thought he was," Emma started. "Today, after the funeral, I got a call from a sheriff in another county about a string of murders that happened in his town some 15 years ago, identical to the murders that have been happened here in Bon Temps. The only connection between the two cases was Mr. French, formerly Rupert Gold of Eunice, LA."

Belle looked horrified. "Are you saying Robert killed Ariel and Aurora?" she asked, eyes darting around Emma's face as though hoping to find some shred proof that what she was saying wasn't true. "Granny?"

Emma nodded solemnly. "Last night, I believe he broke into my house after the wake so he could kill me, but luckily, Henry and I weren't here," she told her.

Belle covered her mouth with her hand, shaking her head back and forth. "No," she cried. "It can't be true! He said he had forgotten something back at the shop!"

"Is that the same excuse he gave today when he just happened across Henry and I after the funeral?" Emma asked, looking at her friend with no small amount of incredulity. "Belle, he brought us back here and tried to kill me multiple times."

"You're lying," Belle accused, jumping up from the swing. "You, Ruby, this whole town has always judged Robert without cause. I was the only one who saw him for what he truly was: a good man. And now he's dead!"

Emma stood up as well. "I had no choice," she insisted, struggling to keep her cool. "He was trying to kill me! He held a gun to my son's head! It was self-defense!"

"It was murder!" Belle cried, and Emma had never seen her so angry, almost vengeful. "And you're not going to get away with it!"

The petite brunette marched down the porch steps, heading to the coroner who no doubt needed her to identify her husband's body. Emma sank back down onto the porch swing, her face in her hands. Gold's terrible face flashed before her eyes, his arm tight around Henry's neck, his sword slicing Killian to ribbons. She knew without a doubt there was nothing else she could have done. Gold had been a demon, an incubus of his own admission. If she'd let him live, who knows who else he would have hurt, killed. In her eyes, it was a miracle Belle was even still alive.

Emma raised her head, eyes widening. Belle. She had to be under Gold's spell. That was the only explanation for her refusal to see the truth. You would think with Gold dead, the spell would be broken, but Emma figured she'd been under it for long enough that it might take a little time for it to wear off. If it did wear off that was. Who knew how magic worked? Emma wondered, before closing her mind off to any thought of the power she'd unleashed earlier that day.

"Emma!"

She picked up her head, half expecting Belle to be back to berate her some more, but the face she was met with was a very welcome one. Ruby was hurrying up the front steps, and Emma met her halfway, finally allowing the tears she held back all day to fall. Tears of relief, of fear, of anger, and of vindication. She had gotten justice not just for Granny, but for Ariel, for Aurora, for Milah, and for all the other women Gold had killed.

"I did it, Ruby," she said into his friend's shoulder. "I got him."

As soon as the last vestiges of light disappeared that evening, there was an urgent knock on the door. Henry was thankfully asleep in his room, understandably exhausted by the events of the day and Emma had finally finished putting her kitchen and foyer to rights. She had been fielding phone calls and visits from reporters all day, and readied herself to kick yet another one off of her porch when she caught sight of an unnaturally pale face through the sheer curtains.

"Emma," Graham's voice sounded through the door when she stopped dead in her tracks.

Her mouth pursed into a firm line before she sighed and opened the door. "Graham," she said expectantly.

"I'm so sorry about last night," he said immediately, clearing the threshold once she stepped out of the way. "I-" He paused, and went utterly still. "What's happened? I smell blood. Yours and another's."

Emma exhaled a deep breath. "It's a long story," she told him. Despite the fact that she was still pissed he'd disappeared on her last night, she was glad he was here. "First things first, I need your help."

"Anything," he replied instantly.

A involuntary noise of amusement escaped her. "I was hoping you'd say that because you're really not going to like it."

She led the way to the basement door and as soon as she opened it, his fangs dropped down. "Killian is still here?" he asked.

Emma didn't like his tone, especially seeing as he had sent Killian to her in the first place. "He's what you're going to help me with," she said, making her way down the stairs.

Killian lay motionless on the tarp, having not moved an inch from where she and Henry had set him down earlier that day, nor the several other times Emma had been to the basement to check on him. His wounds looked no better, though she'd done her best to try and clean some of them, which was hard seeing as he was still covered in dirt. Emma knelt down next to him as Graham circled his body, fangs no long distended, his expression grim.

"He's still, alive, right?" Emma asked, cursing the tremble in her voice. "Or undead, I guess?"

"He has not met the true death yet," Graham agreed, which was also in no way reassuring. His eyes met Emma's as he knelt across from her. "I need to know everything if I'm going to help him. Spare no detail."

Emma swallowed and nodded, launching into the tale of the day's events. Unlike her statement to her deputies earlier, she did tell Graham everything: how Gold had magicked her gun from her, how she'd shot him in the knees but he'd heeled and followed her, how Gold confessed to becoming a demon, how Killian had felt her terror and tried to come to their rescue, how Gold had forced her to watch as he sliced Killian open with his sword, and then how she'd finally broken through his hold on her and killed him.

Graham remained quiet through her whole story, eyes locked on her the whole time except for when she mentioned Gold's sword. His eyes had darted back to Killian, tracing over the gashes before turning his attention back to her.

"He needs blood," he told her when she was finished. "The burns from the UV rays have severely weakened him, and the sword Gold used was most likely forged with silver, slowing down the healing process even more." He stood abruptly. "We need to call Tink at the bar. She'll find donors and bring them here to feed him."

"No," Emma said, staying down at Killian's side. "I won't have strangers in my house, not after what happened today." She took a deep breath before looking up at Graham. "No, I'll give him my blood. It's the least I can do after he saved mine and Henry's lives."

"Emma, consider this carefully," Graham urged, back on his knees before her. "You've already taken Killian's blood, to give him yours would deepen your bond even more. Don't do something you might come to regret out of some misplaced sense of obligation."

"I'm not doing it out of obligation," Emma snapped at him, before instantly regretting her harsh tone. It was hard to remember that Graham was her friend and he was just looking out for her when he sounded like a jealous boyfriend. "I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do . Now, please, help me save him."

He closed his eyes briefly before nodding. They worked together to gently lift Killian's head and upper torso so that his back was against Emma's front, her body essentially cradling his. He was completely dead weight, but she was intimately aware of what a dead vampire looked like courtesy of Felix's guts all over her two nights ago, and so she knew there was still hope.

"Can you-?" Emma asked, gesturing to her wrist.

Graham took her wrist in hand, his thumb caressing her pulse point. She nodded at his hesitant glance, and his fangs glided down. Looking away from his intense gaze, she winced when his fangs penetrated the skin at her wrist, but jumped right into action. Bringing her bleeding wrist up to Killian's face, she coaxed his mouth open with her free hand, pressing her wrist against his lips and letting her blood drip inside.

"Drink, Killian," she whispered into his ear. "Drink."

But Killian remained unresponsive, and Emma looked at Graham with increasing panic. Blood was a vampire's life force and if Killian couldn't drink, then he wouldn't survive much longer.

"Killian, you have to drink," she pleaded, pressing her bleeding wound against his mouth desperately. "Killian, drink, goddammit!"

Another moment of nothing, and then, there . She felt the slightest hint of suction at her wrist. There was movement behind Killian's eyelids, and Emma glanced up at Graham, hope springing anew. "I think it's working!" she said. She ran her fingers through Killian's hair soothingly. "That's it, Killian, come on!"

There was an abrupt change to the pressure of the suction, and Emma gasped as Killian's fangs pierced her skin. His hand came up to grip her arm like a vice, forcing her to stay in place as he suckled her wrist roughly, and she felt the pull of her blood leaving her body. Graham made a move as to pull them apart, but Emma stopped him.

"No, don't," she insisted. "Let him drink."

A couple minutes in though and she could feel herself becoming light headed and cold. How much blood was too much? Killian wasn't exactly in his right mind, would he know when to stop? Or would he drain her dry without a second thought before Graham could prevent him?

"Killian," she said weakly, when she was sure he'd taken everything she could spare.

Graham shifted to intercept him if he struggled, but at the sound of Emma's voice, the vampire in her arms stopped at once, tearing his mouth away from her wrist, and twisted his head to look back at her, his expression somewhere between drunk and awestruck.

"Swan," Killian murmured warmly. He already looked so much better, his face flushed with her blood, the cuts and burns on it were slowly healing before her eyes. "Your blood, I've never tasted anything like it before. It's intoxicating ..."

He trailed off, slumping against her as he fell off into what was hopefully a restorative sleep, and Emma slowly shuffled out from behind him, laying his head gently down on the floor. She met Graham's worried eyes as she stood, and he was by her side in an instant when she swayed, resting one hand on her waist.

He nudged her towards the stairs. "Come," he said, his accented voice soft with concern. Emma couldn't help looking down at Killian, feeling an almost physical pull to him. "He'll be fine. You've seen to that."

Emma nodded and allowed him to lead her up the stairs, with only one backwards glance at the vampire on her basement floor. Graham shut the door behind them, and she made her way to the living room, crawling onto the worn in couch and curling up on her side.

"You've lost a lot of blood, Emma," he said. "You should go to the hospital and get a blood transfusion."

Emma shook her head stubbornly. "I'll be fine," she insisted. Honestly, she could already feel her strength returning to her. Just as Killian's blood had already healed the cut and scrapes on her head, it seemed to be replenishing her blood as they spoke. "Just let me lay here for a few minutes."

Kneeling on the floor next to her, Graham smoothed his fingers along the curve of her cheek, surprising Emma with such a candid display of affection.

"You still owe me an explanation," she told him, though the words held none of the ire she'd previously felt.

Graham smiled ruefully, though, even in her hazy state, Emma caught a flash of dread. "You're a hard woman, Emma Swan," he teased. "An explanation you shall have; though, perhaps when you aren't looking as though you might pass out at any moment."

"Probably a good idea," Emma agreed, curling her hands under her head and gasping at the sudden pain from her forearm. It certainly wasn't a pretty sight, still dripping with blood and with puncture wounds from both vampires. Graham did a horrible job of concealing the hungry look in his eyes as he surveyed it and she sighed. "Oh, go on then."

He held her hand delicately in his and slid his tongue across her wrist, licking up the leftover blood. His tongue felt rough against her skin, but he was gentle as ever, paying special attention to the indents of the puncture wounds. Emma couldn't keep her eyes off of him, unsure of how something that should have disgusted her felt so erotic. When he finished cleaning her wrist, he pricked his finger on his fang and spread his blood over the fang marks like it was and her wounds vanished.

"There," Graham murmured, tracing the now unmarred skin of her forearm with his fingers, "All better."

"Thanks," she said, matching the volume level of his voice, ever mindful of Henry sleeping down the hallway.

He said nothing, simply staring down at her fondly, looping some of her hair behind her ear.

His attention made her a little flustered. Emma could feel her cheeks warming, and, if his little smile was any indication, he'd noticed. "So, is my blood as intoxicating as Killian says it is?" she asked, ducking her head coyly.

Graham's finger came up to lift her chin so she'd meet his eyes. "Your blood is indeed extraordinary," he told her, his eyes earnest and tender. "But not as extraordinary as you, Emma."

Emma couldn't control the way her heart skipped a beat at his words. No man, vampire or human, had ever spoken to her like that or taken care of her the way he just had. Hell, no one had ever looked at her the way he was now, like she was someone special, someone worth caring for. It might have been the blood loss or maybe it had just been a while, but Emma didn't resist the urge to wrap her fingers around his shirt and drag his lips down to hers.

His mouth was cold, but his kiss warmed her to the core.

A/N: Hope this chapter was worth the wait, it was my longest yet! Also, just want to reiterate, that this is fully a Captain Swan endgame kind of story. But who can resist a little Gremma right? I have so many ideas for this story and I can't wait to share them with you all! Follow me on tumblr for sneak peeks and such at ohmyodonoghue. Thank you for your reviews and favorites and as usual please let me know what you think of this chapter! :)