Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time, nor am I affiliated with Adam Horowitz or Eddy Kitsis. Title of the story is taken from a song by Carina Round. For the hat-trick of things I do not own, see basically everything.

A/N: Hello, are we all gearing up for "Second Star to the Right" ? I am unprepared. Hope you enjoy the chapter, thank you for all of your wonderful reviews/favourites/follows. Enjoy!

Van Helsing arrived in the gypsy camp three hours later, well into the night, accompanied by two harried Englishmen who introduced themselves as Jonathan Harker, delighted to meet you and Lord Arthur Godalming, at your service. All were in black and white, even within the parameters of the gypsy camp, though none of them mentioned aloud the curious colorful aspects of their new allies.

At the mention of an aristocrat in their midst, Hook stood up a little straighter. Not out of respect, as Emma initially assumed, but out of a sneering sense of irony. It was impressive how a simple quirk of an eyebrow could convey so much and yet here the Captain was, already silently insulting their company.

"Emma Swan." She nodded to each of the men who nodded, somewhat uneasily, in return.

Hook's three second pause was more noticeable than it would have been if he had not been wearing a contemplative expression that clearly wondered if the newcomers were deserving of his name.

"Captain Hook," he said eventually, bestowing it like a gift.

Emma wondered if she would ever not find his true identity bizarre. To her, he wasn't the infamous pirate from children's literature, he was just…Hook. Suggestive and infuriating and occasionally-sort-of-decent Hook. Or maybe she barely knew Hook at all. Maybe she had spent most of the time dealing with Killian Jones without even realising it. On that thought, she wondered why he had given her leave to use his real name when they first met but not to these men.

Jonathan, a thin man with a nervous quality, attempted a smile.

"Peculiar name."

Hook lifted up his namesake, angling it to allow it its full, vaguely threatening impact. "Not really."

"He spent a whole minute and a half coming up with it," Emma said, ignoring the glare that Hook shot her.

The joke did not diffuse the tension as she had hoped. The Englishmen exchanged an uncomfortable glance while Van Helsing's indulgent smile was too forced to be anything other than condescending.

The clearing was illuminated by lanterns placed on poles, giving the forest a shadowy quality that warned anyone from entering. No one seemed overly concerned by this, including the newcomers. Then again, Emma realized, they had already fought off the worse thing this part of the world had to offer. Even Jonathan, whose demeanour suggested he would jump at the slightest provocation, did not seem bothered. It gave her a little more faith in them than she had had three hours ago.

"So, we doing this thing tonight?" she asked, as though slaughtering a family of vampires and breaking a curse was like a trip to the mall.

"We will gather provisions and depart," Van Helsing confirmed, because old-timey gentlemen did not just say 'yes'. "Vampires detest sunlight so we will strike as soon as the sun is up. Given the present company, it may take us longer to trek to the castle than previously anticipated."

Three pairs of eyes flicked to an irritated Emma. She was a woman, not a invalid. She could outrun any of these idiots, trek or no trek. Before she could point this out, Arthur spoke up.

"Surely the initiative lies in taking a carriage?"

"I doubt the townspeople would take us all the way," Jonathan said, raising a hand in protest. "Curse or no, they are aware of the dark forces that abide in the castle."

"So we shall ask them to take us as far as it please them and then travel the rest of the way on foot," said Van Helsing, nodding at his own decision. "The time frame should still be adequate in terms of sunlight."

The men quibbled among themselves for a little while longer on the best course of action as a bemused Hook and Emma watched.

"Would you like to go and get drunk?" Hook asked as the bickering entered its third minute.

"More than you know," Emma replied. She was two seconds away from sprinting to the nearest bar when she sighed. "We can't leave these idiots alone. They may know how to kill Dracula but look at them…they're going to need all the help they can get."

"Will this take terribly long?" Arthur asked his friends with a pinched expression. "Only I have important matters to attend to back on my estate. There is to be a ball in two weeks time, you see, and it's weighing quite dreadfully on my mind that the preparations will lag during my absence."

A silence greeted this declaration, in which Hook wordlessly handed Emma his hipflask. She unscrewed it and took three gulps without pausing to discern the taste and then passed it back to him. She would have to be at least slightly tipsy in order to cope with their new companions.

Mother Elena burdened them with weapons before they left so that each person had a stake and a silver dagger. Small bottles of holy water were distributed and Hook allowed the old gypsy woman to wash down his hook with it as an added attack. The purpose of the dust she had previously given to Emma was explained to be infused with magic to reveal the portrait.

"Only sprinkle it when you believe the painting to be near," she warned. "The dust is powerful but it has its limits - in this case, distance."

"I thought the sisters were protecting it," Emma said, frowning. "Should we not just look for the painting they're all standing in front of, or whatever?"

"Perhaps," Mother Elena said, having the grace to seem guilty for her lack of knowledge. "The dust is in case magic has been used to obscure the location."

Emma nodded. "Right. Thanks." She attempted a smile. "See you in a few hours, hopefully."

Hook scoffed as their small group made their way out of the camp. "Even if something happens, you'll be able to keep in touch," he said, a sardonic smile on his lips. "She has that charming ability to speak to the dead, don't forget."

Emma didn't reply, feeling that the topic covered too much dangerous ground. With Van Helsing leading the way, they all made their way into the town to begin a long and arduous journey.

Emma pretended to be asleep for the majority of the carriage ride. She doubted anyone bought her unconsciousness, mostly because the path to Dracula's castle was so unsteady that there were a few instances where she almost hit her head on the roof. Still, it saved her from making conversation that she had no interest in and enduring Van Helsing's unwitting sexism.

When the horses pulling the carriage rode to a stop, Emma's eyes snapped open.

"She lives," Hook noted wryly. "Thought you had left me to deal with this alone."

The other men looked vaguely offended but didn't say anything. Emma managed a slight smile. Without preamble, she hopped from the carriage back onto solid ground and savored the freedom to move after such a restrictive journey.

As Van Helsing arranged payment for the driver, Emma took a moment to take in the sight of the castle looming ahead of them.

"Frightened, love?"

She didn't look away from the castle. "I just want to get it over with," she said. "No more jumping through hoops."

"Or portals," Hook added, trying to lighten her mood.

"Please do let us know if you find the pace we set too demanding, Miss," Van Helsing called over before Emma could reply to Hook. She diverted her attention to the vampire hunter, certain that he could set the pace at a sprint and she still wouldn't complain out of pure stubbornness.

"After you, gentlemen," she replied, her tone so bitingly sarcastic that it stopped just short of outright antagonism.

The castle was exactly as Emma had expected and feared: majestic but decrepit, home to every conceivable nightmare and ones outside the realm of imagination. Even the soft rays of the early morning sun did nothing to lessen the dread in the pit of her stomach. The group gathered at the edge of a forest, staring up at their destination. Emma had absolutely no inclination to take so much as another step towards it, but she knew she had to. She pictured Henry's face when she was finally reunited with him and used it as motivation.

"We doing this, or what?" she asked the men, aiming for flippant and landing somewhere in the vicinity of casually hysterical.

She urged her feet to begin the long walk up to the castle doors, a walk bordered on either side by dead plants and trees that not even ravens would roost in. The eerie black and white quality of the world did its best to unsettle outsiders and Emma had to admit that it was doing a damn fine job.

"Are you brave or suicidal?" Hook asked, keeping pace with her as she strode on ahead.

"I think I'm somewhere in between," Emma admitted, keeping her eyes firmly on the castle doors. "Don't make me stop and think about what I'm doing, otherwise I'll run screaming."

Hook didn't make light of her fear though, true to form, he offered her several suggestions as to how they could take their minds off things. Emma wasn't entirely sure what she replied; her mouth was working as a separate entity to her brain, which focused solely on the impending danger.

Large iron rungs were affixed to the double doors. Emma lifted one, feeling its heavy weight in her hands. She raised her eyebrows at Hook.

Should I try and open it?

His nod suggested, Yeah, give it a go.

Emma gripped the rung and tugged. The door opened a crack and, encouraged, Emma pulled again. Hook gave whatever assistance he could and together they created a space wide enough to slip through.

"He's not a big fan of security," Emma noted, taking a few hesitant steps into the castle.

"He doesn't have to be," Hook said, following closely behind. "He isn't about to stop anyone foolish enough to come here from coming in."

Emma barely heard him, transfixed by the entrance hall. She had expected the castle's interior to reflect its decayed walls, yet to her surprise the hall was well-lit, clean and, the most perplexing of all, in full color. Even the faded tapestries on the wall seemed lavish after the monochrome world they had left on the other side of the castle doors.

"Was he expecting us?" she murmured to Hook, her eyes not resting in one place for too long as she tried to scope out any lurking shadows.

"I don't know."

Jonathan came to a stop beside them, slightly out of breath after the brisk walk.

"The Count always ensures he is presentable," he said, an admirable mix of fear and determination setting his features into a stern mask. "Always prepared for visitors."

Van Helsing clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You are a brave man. Do this for Mina."

"As I will do it to honor Lucy," Arthur said, no longer the aristocrat who planned balls but a man who had loved and lost. Emma saw Hook appraise the man in light of this new information.

"What's the plan?" Emma asked, wincing as fear raised her voice, making it echo around the hall.

Van Helsing adopted a resolute expression. "We split up."

Emma scoffed before she could hepl herself. "Yeah, we're not doing that."

The men, who had already started walking away, paused. They glanced at each other in confusion and turned back around.

"Excuse me, Miss," Van Helsing said, adopting a gentle and incredibly condescending tone that made Emma bristle. "We have slain the monster before-"

"Except it didn't take," Emma interrupted. She knew how this kind of thing went down and wanted to avoid as many of the horror clichés as she could. "If we split up, Dracula will pick us off one by one."

The men, still a couple of hundred years away from sitting through one predictable horror movie after another, had no frame of reference for how badly things could go if the split up, or searched a supposedly haunted yet abandoned place, or said "I think we're safe now". True, they had lived through one of the cornerstones of the horror genre but now the story was rewriting itself. The rules had changed and now their methods had too as well.

"Good sir," Van Helsing said, switching his attention to Hook. "If you would care to explain to your lady the dangers of-"

"Actually, I agree with her," Hook said in his cold Captain's voice. "And while Emma often chooses not to listen, I assure you that she is perfectly capable of it. There is no need to talk to her through me."

Van Helsing pressed his lips together before forming them into an unnatural smile. Emma wouldn't be surprised if he felt intimidated; she did, and the authoritative tone had been in her favor.

"Of course." Van Helsing turned his penitent eyes on her. "Forgive me, Miss. Swan."

"Sure," Emma said, brushing off the apology. He was a product of his time and no amount of scolding would change his views on women such a short period of time. Emma didn't like it, but she didn't have to like it. She just had to get on with the task at hand. At least he was more polite about it than the misogynistic idiots she had encountered back in her own world.

"Nevertheless, splitting up does seem to be the sensible option," Arthur said, as though nothing had occurred.

"In what world is that a sensible option?" Emma demanded, beginning to lose her temper. "Mother Elena said it was your job to kill Dracula and his sisters."

"Two separate kills requires two separate groups," Arthur insisted. "It makes sense. Besides, the demons will be asleep. It's a timesaver above all else."

"Right, because time management is what we should be most aware of right now!"

Emma threw a can you believe this? glare at Hook. His unspoken anger matched her own, but mixed in with that fury was also a determination that Emma had learned to be wary of. He wanted to prove himself and thought he had found a way to do so.

Emma was guessing this was why he didn't argue when the other men took their leave. He wanted to test his wits and strength against a legend and emerge as the victor. She was over macho posing in general and was about to tell him as much when he spoke in a slow, sarcastic voice.

"You should have told them about that time you killed a dragon," he said, watching as the men rounded a corner and disappeared from view. "That would've stopped them right in their tracks."

Emma frowned. "Shut up, I don't mention it that often."

Hook's slight smirk suggested he thought otherwise but he didn't voice his disagreement. He pulled out a wooden stake from their small bag of weapons and, as he was examining it, said:

"If all goes to plan, you'll be able to brag about defeating a vampire instead."

He handed Emma the other stake. She weighed it in her hands, wondering if she was Buffy in this realm.

"And if all doesn't go to plan?"

Hook shrugged. "Depends. How good are you at talking when your throat has been torn out?"

Emma thanked him for being a continuous source of comfort and walked away, admittedly slower than she would have liked for fear that they would be separated and she would have to wander the castle alone.

Each time a door was opened, Emma felt a jolt of fear that this would be the one holding Dracula or his sisters. She raised her stake, realized that the room was empty, and then stepped back into the hallway. It was a process repeated too many times to suggest that the end result would be anything other than insanity.

"We're spending a lot of time opening doors in castles recently," Hook noted, closing the most recent door with an expression between relief and thwarted anticipation.

"Ours is a noble quest," Emma agreed flatly. She lifted her stake as Hook opened another door.

"A library," Hook said, dismissing its usefulness by letting the door fall closed and walking away.

"Well, no, wait," Emma said, lowering her weapons and pulling the door back open. "There might be some books on magic here. Something on a portal, maybe."

Hook took slow, deliberate steps back to the library door, stopping mere inches away from Emma. The spark of mischief was back in his eyes and Emma braced herself for whatever he was about to say.

"How do I know you don't just want to get me into a secluded, dimly lit room?"

Emma didn't flinch. "You're not that lucky, pal."

Hook's entrance to the library was accompanied by a big, theatrical sigh. "Alright, but if this is all part of some ruse to seduce me please just consider my innocence."

Emma rolled her eyes and followed him. "Noted."

The library was little more than a small room whose walls were covered in bookshelves. Lit oil lamps gave the room a comforting glow, resting on a large desk which occupied the centre space. Books were neatly stacked on top of it, next to a candle whose wick had burnt down.

"Check the spines of the books," Emma instructed, walking over to furthest bookshelf. "If anything is in English, great. If not, look for pictures."

"Pictures?" Hook repeated, amused. Emma heard his boots sink into the plush rug that carpeted the library. "Pictures of what?"

"I don't know…wands, potions…" Emma shrugged. "You know, magic stuff."

She heard Hook mutter a derisive magic stuff under his breath as he got to searching. To Emma's surprise, some of the books were in English though most were in Latin and others in what she guessed to be Romanian. She glanced from title to title just enough to determine that they would be of no help and before long, her mind wandered.

She hoped Mary Margaret (her mother, she still wasn't over how weird that was) had escaped if not the Enchanted Forest then at least Cora. She hoped Mulan and Aurora had come to the woman's aid and they were all somewhere safe. She hoped Henry was happy and out of harm's way. She hoped, and it was so damn frustrating because it was all she could do right now.

None of the books seemed particularly helpful. A jittery nervousness overcame Emma. She knew that the demons in the castle would be fast asleep (dead to the world, she punned) but she was very concerned about what would happen if they somehow failed to find the painting before sundown.

"I should have grown up in a castle," she said, more to break the silence than anything. It was a random thought plucked from a meaningless string of observations her mind had made in an attempt to distract her from fear. "Not this castle. Unless my parents had some really freaky arranged marriage deal in mind for me."

"I should have grown up as a blacksmith in a tiny little village that about ten people have heard of. Fate always has something else in store, love."

Emma's hand stilled against the spine of a book. The admission was given so casually that it seemed foolish to react to it in any other way, but she felt like Hook telling her about his past was meaningful. She pretended to be reading the names printed on the book spines.

"So the 'I'm a blacksmith' thing back in the safe haven had some truth in it?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say truth. It was my father's career choice, not mine." He became quiet, contemplative, then sombre. "But that was a very long time ago."

Emma lowered her hand from the books, unable to even pretend that her mind was on anything other than their conversation. She found she wanted to learn more about young Killian Jones but she knew how this game worked. First, she would have to offer up something about herself.

"When I was younger, I wanted to be in a band. A group of musicians," she added, uncertain if Hook was acquainted with the term band or if something like troubadours would be more his area of vocabulary.

Hook sounded pleasantly surprised. "Oh, you sing?"

"No."

"Play an instrument?"

"No."

Hook's laugh was so soft that Emma wondered if he meant for it to escape his lips. "I'm beginning to see why that life didn't pan out for you."

Emma grinned (but only because the only ones who could see her were the books).

"Were you in it for the money and the women?" Hook asked, his lack of movement indicating that he too had temporarily abandoned the search in favor of hearing Emma's story.

"The companionship."

"Same thing, surely?"

His light teasing had Emma smiling again, though this time it was tinged with sadness. "I wanted a family. I thought that the closest I could get to that would be band-mates and fans." She was teetering on the verge of self-pity and pushed herself away from that dangerous ledge with a disparaging: "But then my total lack of talent made it obvious that that wouldn't happen."

"I think you're plenty talented."

Emma expected an innuendo-laden follow up, but when his quiet voice faded away into the library she realized that he was sincere. A confused sort of panic came over her as it always did in the rare moments she was given a compliment. She didn't know how to respond and so fell back on acerbic humor.

"You obviously haven't heard me sing."

She was almost disappointed in herself for taking the coward's way out and laughing the compliment off. Almost, but not quite, because she was not well-practiced in the art of gracefully receiving praise and anything she would have replied with would inevitably sound conceited.

Hook let out a soft, half-exasperated sigh.

"You know, lass, one of these day you're going to believe me when I tell you how wonderful you are."

Emma didn't reply. What did it matter to him whether she believed him or not? Feeling strangely vulnerable, she returned to pulling out books and reading their titles. After a moment she heard Hook do the same.

"The Count's a well-read man," he commented after another few minutes. "Books on law and London businesses…" he glanced over his shoulder at Emma. "Tell you what love, if this doesn't work out then we'll head off to London and make our fortune. The pirate and the princess."

"Sounds like a Dickens novel," Emma said dryly. The implications of his words caught up with her and she frowned. "How do you know about London?"

"I'm well-travelled," was his only answer.

Emma, who could hear his amused satisfaction at his own vague reply, turned and stared at the back of his head.

"And no," he said before she could speak. "The means by which I travelled there is no longer open to us."

She made a face at his (correct) assumption of her question and returned to the books, wondering how many times his smart attitude had gotten him punched in the past. Not enough, clearly, or he would have learnt his lesson by now.

"We should move," Emma said, shoving the last book on the shelf into place. "There's nothing useful here."

"Could have told you that out in the hallway," Hook muttered, giving Emma a bright (and deeply sarcastic) smile as she passed him.

Emma didn't wait for him before opening the next door along. She took a small step into the room, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. There were plenty of windows in the castle but they were all hidden behind thick curtains that didn't allow so much as a sliver of sunlight through. Emma idly wondered how much Dracula spent on candles.

"Hello."

She jumped at the soft voice and swung her stake almost blindly in response. Something gripped her wrist, using her stake-swinging momentum to its advantage and catching her off-balance. A pair of hands caught her around her waist before she fell, urging her upright. The stake was snatched away. Emma watched desperately as it skittered across the stone floor. The door slammed shut and Dracula's sisters simpered around her.

"You're beautiful," one of them sighed, the light gust of her breath tickling Emma's neck. "Stay with us."

"Yes," another breathed, trailing her thin fingers through Emma's hair. "Stay here with us."

"Be one of us."

Emma could feel herself shaking. Her heart beat faster, spiking her blood with fear and adrenaline. It was not the effect she wanted to produce in a room full of vampires; she imagined it was akin to presenting an alcoholic with the finest wine ever created and then only using tissue paper to separate him from it. Emma's skin would slice open under the sharp fingernails of the demons and her blood would pour, she was certain of it.

The hand in Emma's hair stilled as the door opened and Hook stepped inside. He paused, surprised at the sight before him, then surveyed the women with a quirk to his lips and a thousand unrepeatable thoughts running through his mind.

"Please," he said, smirking at the vampire closest to Emma. "Don't stop on my account."

Emma glared at him, more fearsome than the three demons combined. When she spoke, her voice was a strained warning.

"Hook."

"Just a second, darling, I'm committing this to memory." His eyes drifted over the scene with infuriating deliberation. "Alright, I've got it."

"Is this your lover?" the blonde vampire asked, tilting her head to the side so that it rested on Emma's shoulder.

Emma had never been as tense as she was in that moment. Every muscle was stone, every nerve taut with fear.

"He wishes," she managed with only the slightest shake in her voice.

Hook's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly when he heard Emma's distress. He made sure to keep his expression pleasant as he stepped further into the room, holding his hand up.

"Ladies, as much as I hate to break this up - and trust me, it pains me beyond belief - I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the lovely Miss. Swan."

The brunette pursed her red lips just wide enough to show off the sharp points of teeth. "But we want her."

"He could always play, too," the other brunette suggested, flicking her gaze from Hook's head to his feet. "For awhile."

Hook's regretful smile didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry sweetheart, I'm a monogamist at heart. Except on the first Tuesday of every month, then I'm whatever copious amounts of alcohol tells me I am."

With a flash of intuition, Emma knew Hook's game. His light, easy conversation was designed to put her at ease, to reassure her that this really was just another day on the job for him. Though it rang false (this time yesterday he had been vocal in his certainty that vampires didn't exist) it was a decent gesture. His eyes were busy scanning for a way to help Emma without the sisters harming her.

The blonde sister, still resting her head on Emma's shoulder, turned to Emma's neck and inhaled. She released the breath in a shudder. Emma jerked away from her without thinking, her survival instinct overriding her common sense. The vampire whimpered and pouted at her disobedient pet, attracting the attention of her sisters who released Emma in order to coo over the blonde.

Emma took her chance. She hoped that she had enough of a distraction to make it across the room but the sisters snarled at her the moment she began to back away from them. Their lips, drawn back over their teeth, quivered with rage. They were used to getting what they wanted, Emma could tell, and though consent meant nothing to them they still loathed to be refused.

She was still shaking when she came to a stop next to Hook. His hand slipped into hers and squeezed for the briefest of moments, offering her comfort and sharing his strength. She squeezed back without thinking, using the sensation to anchor herself. Emma Swan, who had faced down a dragon, an ogre and a giant, would not be bested by three nympho vampires. By the time Hook gently let go of her hand, she was more herself again.

"Eternal life is a really big commitment," Emma told the sisters with a sheepish shrug. "I mean, you're talking to someone who doesn't like to plan anything more than a week in advance."

"Why don't we leave and mull it over?" Hook suggested, trying to soothe the thick tension.

"We would prefer it you stayed," the taller brunette hissed, the thin silk of her dress swaying with her curves as she moved closer to her victims. "At least allow us to offer you something to drink."

She raised a sharp fingernail and drew it across her chest, gasping softly as blood gathered in the wake of the trail. Her eyes on Hook, she raised her finger to her mouth and licked the tip, catching the blood with her tongue. Hook stepped forward, entranced.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked in alarm.

"Hush now," the blonde vampire cooed to Emma. "There's plenty for you, too."

Emma knew she should run and save herself but she couldn't leave Hook behind. She watched in horror as he came to a stop in front of the temptress.

"Drink," she urged in a whisper, guiding his head downwards.

Hook's hand wrapped around the back of her neck, binding them together. His lips hovered over the slit, poised to lap at the blood. The vampire's eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, her arms falling to her sides, and that was when Hook straightened up and plunged his hook into her chest. Flesh burned and the demon screamed and screamed. Hook yanked out the attachment just long enough to withdraw a wooden stake and slam that in its place. There was a sickening crunch of wood breaking into what remained of the demon's heart.

It was over in less than five seconds. Emma gaped as the body crumpled to the floor, turning into a withered husk of a once beautiful shell. The remaining vampires stood motionless from the shock, staring at their fallen sister.

"We will rise again," the last brunette said, spitting out the words in her rage. Her eyes lifted from the prone form of her sister to her murderer, as inhuman as anything Emma had ever seen. "You will not leave this room alive."

Hook's laugh was cruel and humorless. "I've been hearing variations of that for the last three hundred years. Don't make promises you can't keep."

The blonde sister lunged at Hook with an unearthly shriek , the talons she called fingernails primed for attack. Hook was ready for her, raising his sword and slashing her across the chest the moment she was within reach. The vampire howled but did not fall back. Hook opted for violence rather than precision and hacked at the demon. His sword could only incapacitate but that was all he needed until he could angle the vampire's neck just right against its blade.

Emma was ready for the other sister. She had uncorked the bottle of holy water the moment Hook had been attacked and now flung it into the oncoming demon's face. Flesh melted away into a featureless lump and Emma took the distraction of the vampire's distress to snatch up her stake. She tried to stab the vampire where the stood but the brunette's flailing arms prevented her. The demon may have been blinded by the holy water but she was still strong. Emma dodged another of the vampire's punches and, gaining an idea, reached out to grab the woman's calves. She pulled as hard as she could, uprooting the screeching brunette and watching with no small sense of satisfaction as her back smacked onto the hard floor.

Faster than she thought she could move, Emma straddled the vampire and rammed the stake into her chest with all the force she could muster. The sister screamed and writhed, what was left of her face contorting. Emma's hands trembled as she tried to drive the stake deeper until, with one last shudder, the vampire fell still. Her hands slick with blood, Emma pushed herself off the body and, panting, collapsed next to it.

A few seconds later, she heard the dull thud of the final vampire's head hitting the floor. She didn't bother looking up at it, not even sure if she could muster the energy. Her breathing evened out into small mouthfuls of air.

"Emma?" Hook's voice was frantic.

"Yeah?" she asked, struggling upwards into a sitting position in case there was more danger.

Hook, as bloodied and bruised as she imagined she herself was, relaxed from his tense state but his eyes still burned.

"Don't do that to me," he said, torn between relief and anger.

"What?" Emma asked, genuinely uncertain.

"You were lying motionless in a pool of blood after a fight with a vampire," he said stiffly, his fear manifesting into anger. "I'll allow you to draw your own conclusions as to what that looked like."

"It looked like you didn't have much faith in me." When he didn't smile at her teasing, she sobered. "Hook, I'm fine."

Emma didn't understand why he was mad. She got to her feet unsteadily and, careful to avoid the mutilated parts of vampires, stepped over to him. He kept his eyes determinedly on the bloodstains she had left behind, not looking at her even as she stopped in front of him.

"Hey," she said softly, reaching up and pressing her fingertips gently into his cheek so that he had no choice but to look at her. She raised her eyebrows, urging him to believe her. "I'm fine."

She lowered her hand at the cold look in his eyes. He was still angry and, though he was valiantly trying to hide it, so very afraid. She didn't tell him about the smudges of blood her light touch had left on her cheek and he didn't tell her how his heart had stopped in the seconds he thought he had lost her.

That was the price of caring for someone: you had to accept that one day you would lose them. It was a huge gamble to make, investing time and love into a person with only the hope that your time together will be worth it in the end. Hook wasn't ready to make that sacrifice again, he was too afraid. When her fingers dropped away from his cheek he felt a mixture of longing and relief. He wasn't sure what he felt for Emma, not entirely, but he knew that the thought of it scared him.

As he backed away from her touch, he realized that he was the one thing he had vowed never to be. He was a coward.

A/N2: Hello, hope you enjoyed! Tried to fit this into the chapter but couldn't: the curse gave the vampires the ability to stay awake at all hours, hence conscious sisters.