Edit: Whoops. Got so excited to post the chapter I forgot to add my A/N.
A/N: Wow! Thank you to everyone who's favorited, followed, reviewed or even recc'd this story! The response to the first chapter has been amazing! I hope you continue to like it.
Also, it should become clear during this chapter, but the vampire mythos in this story is one I've made up on my own. I'm borrowing elements from about a million different vampire systems, s parts will seem familiar, but the resulting combination is all my own. I hope you like it. Thanks to killer-elephants for being my beta, and happy belated birthday.
~M
...
II: Come On and Dance Away the Growing Night
By the time Emma had found the immense white house surrounded by immaculately manicured hedgerows, the first hints of sunlight were just beginning to lighten the sky.
A woman was waiting outside. Dark, shoulder-length hair and a grey dress fluttered with motion as Emma pulled up, their owner running to the car. Emma had to force herself from pulling a gun on her, too. She knew this was undoubtedly Henry's ...mother, but she'd really had enough of people running up to her car tonight. Her eyes flew to the woman's open mouth, checking automatically for fangs. There were none. And no yellow around the eyes. Human. She kept her gun holstered, and put the car in park.
She got out of the yellow bug without saying anything, and the woman didn't seem to care, running to the back door of the car and frantically tugging on it. "Henry!" she called out, and Emma felt a number of emotions sweep through her at the sheer amount of care and love in her tone.
The door was sticking. It did that from time to time, and Emma was stepping forward to get it herself when the woman shot her an ice-filled, deadly glare. "You will stay back, hunter." The word was spat out like a curse, and Emma froze in her step from shock alone. Seriously. What was with this town and hunters? Most people were relieved whenever she came around. It meant a momentary end to their worries, and a few nights of not having to huddle in some fortified basement, afraid of every rustle or blurred motion.
With a savage yank, the woman forced the door open, and sprang into the backseat. Gathering Henry into her arms, she pulled him out and nuzzled him lightly, and then proceeded to check him over like a mother lion with her cub. Henry roused, just a little, whimpering out a weak 'mom' before curling his arms around her neck. Just as he'd done with Emma earlier.
His mother held him cradled in her arms as if he weighed nothing, apparently satisfied with his physical appearance, and began walking, carefully, back to the house.
Not wishing to intrude this ...touching moment, Emma still found herself with a hell of a lot of questions. And this woman, undoubtedly, had some of the answers. Without making any sudden movements, Emma followed, finally asking just before they got to the door. "...Is he gonna be okay?"
Dark eyes turned on her in a flash, their owner seeming to have forgotten she was there. Now that she was reminded, her face practically burned with threat and anger. "If you have done anythingto hurt my son, I swear I will destroy you." Emma stepped back, completely thrown, as the woman snarled, "if it is the last thing I do."
"Whoa, calm down, lady!" She raised her hands, both in attempt to calm and to show that yes, she was armed, but her weapons were out of reach at the moment. "I didn't do anything! He just kinda collapsed onto my table."
"...Sun exhaustion," the woman murmured, quietly, more to herself than Emma. She held Henry more tightly, as if afraid Emma was going to break him. Her face hardened further. "I'll handle it from here," she said simply, as if that ended things. "You're free to leave my town, hunter. Don't return." She gave Emma a final look, and then headed into her house.
Fuming, Emma followed her after only a tiny moment of hesitation, slamming the door open behind the other woman so forcefully it knocked into the side wall. It hadn't been locked, of course. Henry's mother hadn't the time, with her son still in her arms. "Look, can we just talk about this? I don't exactly know what's going on, but I really kind of need to."
Eyes wide, the other woman still took a moment to deposit her son safely on a couch before turning, as if stunned that anyone would dare step into her home without permission. "'Need to?!'" She rose from her half-crouch, advancing on Emma's position with all the dangerous grace of tiger. "You don't need to do anything," she growled. "I appreciate you bringing my son back to me, but I can assure you, your presence is not wanted or needed. Now get the hell out of my house!"
Emma had just about had enough, marching forward until she was nose-to-nose with the brunette. "He's. My. Son!"
That, at least, got the brunette's attention. He mouth dropped open, and she blinked, taking a moment to process. "...You're his... you're Henry's birth-mother?" her eyes dropped automatically to her neck, and Emma knew she was seeing her scar.
Emma's fury was so deep, her mind so completely overwhelmed by the events that had completely shaken her world upside down that her hands were wrapped around the other woman's shoulders before she was even conscious of it. Spinning her, she practically slammed the other woman into the nearest wall, getting as close as she dared and snarling directly into the mayor's face. "My son was ripped away from me seconds after he was born. I've spent the last eight years grieving him, and now suddenly he shows up at my door sporting fangs and walking around in daylight! I get that he needs your help, but dammit you will tell me what the hell he is!"
Looking like she was about ready to eviscerate this troublesome blonde right here and now, an animalistic growl rumbled deep and low in the brunette's chest. Her jaw was clenched tightly shut, but lips seemed about ready to part when a tiny voice gave her pause.
"Mom?" Henry whimpered, sounding dazed.
The change in the other woman was immediate. Her eyes snapped to the couch, and then to the woman keeping her pinned. "It's okay, Henry," she said gently. "I'll be right there." Staring directly into green eyes brimming with fury, the woman finally spoke. "Let go of me." The command was quiet; deadly in its intensity.
Looking straight back into unending pools of blackness, Emma slowly released her hold, taking a step back. She took a breath, and then another.
The woman straightened her shoulders and smoothed a few wrinkles on her dress, turning her head in both directions until a faint crack of her spine realigning was heard. "What's your name?"
"Emma," the blonde replied, her voice much quieter now. "Emma Swan."
The other woman was silent for a long moment. She repeated the name, her lips almost seeming to taste how the sounds felt on her tongue. "Regina," she said by way of introduction, and left it at that."The sun is rising," she muttered, almost absently glancing at the still-open door behind the blonde. She swallowed, and broke the eye contact. Her eyes lingered on the form of her unconscious son, then slowly flitted back at Emma. She appeared to make a decision. "Leave your weapons outside; I'll not have them in my house." She pressed off from the wall and then walked away, automatically assuming that Emma would obey, and turned to kneel beside her son.
A little stunned by the sudden turn-around, the blonde just stood there for a moment, then slowly stepped back outside the door. Removing her wide variety of weaponry took more time than she would have liked, and when she'd finally set all the guns and her two knives on the porch, she felt extremely exposed. And empty. She snatched up one of her smaller guns and quickly replaced it behind her back. She could always say she'd forgotten about it later, if she had to.
Re-entering the house, she made sure to close and bolt the door behind her. And it was only then that she noticed just how ...prepared the house itself was. There were very few windows, and what ones existed were completely covered, heavy sun-blocking curtains nailed down to prevent any sunlight at all from entering. But the house was by no means dark. Sconces and lamps seemed to be just about everywhere, bathing the interior of the house in a warm glow.
It felt... cozy. Almost.
Feeling entirely like an intruder, Emma returned to the room where the woman- Regina- was kneeling over her son. She held a flashlight in one hand and seemed to be checking Henry's pupils. The other rested lightly on his forehead, checking to see if he felt warm. Which was a little absurd, Emma thought. She did not turn around when Emma entered the room, though she was obviously aware of her presence. "Did you feed him?" her voice demanded, imperious but subdued in volume.
Taken aback by the question, the blonde slowly approached, but kept her distance. "Uh, yeah. Kid practically devoured my entire refrigerator."
The brunette whirled violently, so suddenly Emma had to take a step back. Her speed had seemed almost inhuman for a moment there. She shook her head. She'd already examined the woman's teeth. No fangs.
"You gave him human food?!" It was evident Regina was wondering how on earth she could ever have been so stupid. Like it should be obvious or something. Emma grimaced, glaring at the older woman, but Regina's attention was no longer on her, rising and heading into the kitchen. Watching her, an uneasy feeling began to build in Emma's chest. And only intensified when the brunette withdrew a wicked-looking pair of kitchen shears.
"...What are you doing?"
"He needs blood," Regina said simply.
With a growing sense of panic, Emma's eyes grew wide as saucers, and the tips of her fingers moved to lightly brush over her remaining gun. Though she didn't draw it. Yet. Henry's mother glanced at her posture, and then shook her head, almost laughing. "I didn't mean yours, dear. I keep some in the warmer."
Taking a deep breath to assuage the cold shot of panic that had just bolted through her system, Emma released the gun and relaxed just a little. With an evaluating sort of smile, Regina cast her eyes over Emma from head to toe, sizing her up with a strange, amused look. "Unless... I suppose, if you wanted to...?"
And there was that panic again. Seeing it in her eyes, the brunette just laughed again, retrieving the medical bag of blood, slicing the tubing off with the shears, and pouring its contents into what appeared to be a sippy cup.
Returning to the living room, she knelt on the floor again and lightly shook Henry's shoulder. With a quiet murmur, the boy woke slightly, and with his mother keeping a hand to guide the cup to his lips, he began to drink. Slight color instantly began to return to his cheeks. Humming a soothing but quiet little song, Regina stroked his hair back away from his face, releasing the cup when Henry grew strong enough to hold it in both hands on his own.
Though part of her felt she could almost be physically ill at the sight of her own son chugging down blood like it was milk, another part of Emma felt oddly touched. Having never had the sort of mother herself who'd show such open affection, her heart clenched in her chest. And then sunk again. That should have been her. It would have been, if not for the damned ...things that she spent her nights hunting now.
She said nothing, only watching, almost afraid to break the tender scene in front of her.
Finally, Henry seemed to finish, draining the cup dry with a hiss of air. Smiling at him, Regina took the empty cup. "Feel better?" she asked quietly.
Henry nodded, still looking a little sleepy. Regina bent to press a kiss to his brow, and then rose to put the cup away. Giving a blood-stained yawn, Henry snuggled in a bit deeper into the couch. His eyelids drooped, trying desperately to stay awake. "Hi, Emma," he murmured, blinking slowly.
Hands crossed over her chest a little awkwardly, she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way. And not a 'holy crap you just downed a sippy cup full of blood' kind of way. "Hey, kid."
"Sorry I fell asleep..." he muttered, looking as though he might do it again.
Even with blood around his lips, the kid still somehow managed to be kind of endearing. "It's okay," she whispered.
Blinking up at her slowly, Henry smiled, and yawned again, licking his lips of the final red traces.
"Henry," Regina re-entered, bending down slightly, though not getting on the floor. "Do you think you can manage getting to your room?"
He nodded wordlessly, and very slowly sat up. Regina made no move to help him, though every fibre of Emma's being screamed for her to. She even began to do so herself before Henry shot her a look. "I can do it!" he insisted petulantly.
And he did. Slowly, hanging onto the banister the entire way up the stairs, but he did make it into his bed. Regina was always a step or two behind, and when he finally flopped down, utterly exhausted, she silently removed his shoes and tucked him in. Finished, she sat on the edge of the bed and straightened his hair. "Henry," she breathed, giving another little sigh. "I was very worried about you," she scolded, but not entirely unkindly.
The poor kid looked as though he was about ready to pass out again, though this time from sleepiness alone. "Sorry, Mom," he grunted through drowsy eyes. "...Can Emma stay for a while? Just 'til I wake up?"
Regina swallowed, glancing over at the blonde she'd nearly forgotten about, standing in the door frame. "...We'll see." Taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, Regina just gave him a quick hug and kissed his forehead again. "Go back to sleep," she sighed. "We'll talk about this later."
"'Kay," he murmured. "G'morning, Mom. G'morning, Emma."
Just outside the door, feeling her double whammy of jealousy and intrusion yet again, Emma tried to speak, and found herself voiceless. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "...Good morning, kid. Sleep well." She almost added 'pleasant dreams,' before realizing she had no idea if... whatever the kid was dreamed or not. Vampires didn't, she knew.
With a pointed glare at Emma, Regina rose from her son's bed, quickly departing the room and closing the door behind her. "My study, Miss Swan," she ordered, and brushed past the blonde to head back down the stairs.
Emma followed. She felt like she'd been doing that quite often since she'd gotten in this house, and frankly, was a little sick of it. But she wanted answers, and she wanted them now. So as soon as they'd both safely gotten off the stairs, she grabbed Regina's arm, slightly less roughly than earlier, and spun her around to face her. "Look, I don't mean to be an imposition or whatever. But I really, really need to know what the fuck my son is, and you're the only one who probably knows the answer to that. So can you please stop just ordering me around and tell me?"
Noticeably flinching at the hold the blonde had on her, Regina glared at her, shrugging the hand off as if it physically burned her. "Stop touching me!" she hissed, keeping her voice down. "It is for Henry's sake alone that you're even still in my house, Hunter."
Emma released her, but her anger did not dissipate. "Seriously?" she snarled. "What the hell is your problem? Yeah, I'm a hunter. Big deal. I don't know if you've noticed, but there are a lot of us about these days."
"Not in Storybrooke!" Regina spat. A vein in her forehead slid into prominence, a sure sign of her upset.
Laughing, the blonde ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, I've already met your welcome party. They don't seem all that friendly. What is this place; a safe haven for vampires or something?!"
Regina's answer was automatic, direct, and said with no small amount of pride: "Yes."
With wide eyes, Emma felt her jaw drop. Her anger seemed to dissipate, floored by the understated simplicity of that statement. And all that it implied. "I... need to sit down," she muttered, feeling woozy.
"Which is why I suggested the study," the brunette smirked and led the way, not looking back to see if Emma was following or if her legs gave out under her. When Emma finally entered the room and sat down on the nearest surface- a couch, as it turned out- Regina had her back to her, busy at her sidebar.
"Would you like a drink, Miss Swan?"
She nodded silently, all words and emotions still frozen as her brain struggled to catch up with the news that there was a town full of vampires living in Maine. And her son was one of them.
Regina handed her a tumbler, and she sipped it quickly, barely even registering that it was apple cider before it was burning a path down her throat. It was good.
Her host had poured herself a different vintage, something red and very dark. It looked expensive. Probably why Emma hadn't been offered any. Sipping the cider again, she was a little glad of the fact. It was really good. When about half her glass was gone and she could finally form words again, she took a deep breath, and hesitantly asked. "So... Storybrooke is... what, exactly?"
Finishing her swallow before replying, Regina just smirked, looking extremely smug. "Officially, it's an experiment, dear."
A scoff slipped past Emma's lips, her eyebrows raising incredulously. "A town completely populated by vampires and all you have to say is it's an 'experiment'?!"
"Not 'completely,'" Regina admonished, a little defensively. "They make up about half of the population. We do have a number of werewolves in town, too. And humans. All of their own volition. We've worked it out quite nicely." The pride was back in her voice.
Emma's mind flashed back to the werewolf- Graham- she'd seen at the gates. "Nice to know you don't discriminate," she muttered, barely intelligible.
"Not at all. Though it's obvious enough that you do. Attacked at a younger age, were you?" she asked pointedly, eyes once again fixed on the scar of Emma's neck.
Emma recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "Don't," she hissed out dangerously.
An incline of her head and a slight upward turn of Regina's upper lip. "Merely an observation, dear. There's no need to take it personally. You had to have been," she paused, taking a sip of her drink before continuing. "Otherwise Henry would not be... what he is."
"And what is he?"
Regina leveled a glare at her, finishing her glass and rising from her leather chair. "Before I answer that, I want us to make one thing very, very clear, Miss Swan."
"What?"
The darker woman stepped closer, and then bent down to look Emma directly in the eye. Swallowing, a little uncomfortable, Emma nevertheless met the gaze, unwilling to show any of her uncertainty. She felt for sure that it would be a bad thing, to let this woman see her uneasy. A hand snaked out, taking Emma's chin between manicured fingernails. "Henry is my son," she hissed. "I have loved him every moment of every day and night for the last eight years. I've changed every diaper, soothed every fever, sated every craving. You may have given birth to him, but he is my son. And I won't let him be hurt. Not by anyone. Especially not by you."
Emma balked. She'd not been expecting that at all. Though, probably, she supposed she should have. "I'm not here to hurt Henry!" she insisted.
Regina raised an eyebrow, not releasing her chin. "Are you here to take him from me?"
Emma knew she could get out of this hold quite easily, grab her gun, and put a bullet between the other woman's eyes all before she could probably react. But she also knew Regina was just being caring mother. Running a tongue over her dry lips, she sighed. Honesty was probably best, here. "I don't... I don't know yet," she whispered.
The brunette searched her eyes long and hard. Very slowly and calmly, she growled out a warning. "I. Will. Not. Let you take him from me."
"He's my son!" Emma growled. Jerking her head back to release Regina' hold on her, she fought the urge to go for her gun. "He was stolen from me! I always wanted him!"
"And you want him now?"
Emma swallowed thickly. She wanted to say yes, she just didn't think she could. "...I don't even know what he is!"
Some point during her thinking, Regina had poured herself another glass and returned to her chair, sitting down with a flourish. "That shouldn't matter," she stated, crossing her legs at the ankle. "If you're his mother, you'll want him anyway. Love him anyway."
"How the hell would I know how to take care of him if I don't know what he is?!"
Regina tilted her head to the side, smirking. As if that question had been her goal all along. "How indeed?" she echoed aloud. Her arms went to either side of her chair, spread wide over its arms in a clear message of domination.
The blonde felt tears burning behind her eyes, and choked them back. "...What is he? Just tell me." It was practically a plea. And then, just for good measure, she added: "Please."
"He's my son," Regina replied, shrugging and sipping at her drink. "Other than that... he's referred to as a 'Sunwalker.' A vampire who can 'pass' for human. Apart from the obvious ability implied in the name, he can enter homes without invitations, consume human food, retract his fangs... everything a vampire cannot do." She hesitated. "Or he will be. Right now he's too young to withstand much direct sunlight without it taking a severe toll, but when he's older..." she trailed off, smiling softly and sipping from her drink.
Emma felt her mind reeling, almost getting dizzy from everything she'd learned this evening. Morning. Past few days. Whatever. "And you know this... how?"
The drink lowered, carefully placed on a coaster before regina spoke again. "For a long time, Sunwalkers were considered myths. Something that only existed in fairy tales. But there was a vampire; an inhabitant of Storybrooke until somewhat recently, who found means of creating them. Biting pregnant humans at a very specific time and inducing labor. The success rate was... varied." From the way she said it, Regina may just as well have been talking about the weather.
"And when it worked he stole the the children and brought them here once the mothers had been left bleeding out in empty alleyways?!" There was, Emma was sure, not ever going to be a time when she did not get angry thinking about how exactly she'd given birth. The brunette's blase treatment of the subject didn't help much.
Raising an eyebrow, Regina looked at her pointedly. "He brought the children here, yes. Almost all of them died quickly. Henry was the sole exception."
There was a lengthy moment of silence while Emma digested this. She threw back the last of her cider without tasting it, as if it could quell the feelings churning within her. Or the wave of nausea and dizziness that had been burning in the back of her head for a while. She was getting tired. Very tired. She shrugged it off. It happened from time to time, when she'd been awake too long. Regina did not seem inclined to break the quiet, instead closing her eyes and seeming to embrace it, resting the back of her head on her chair.
Finally, after Emma could stand it no more, she lightly breathed: "...So you knew what Henry was when you..." she swallowed, unable to finish. "Why would you choose to ...adopt a kid with so many... needs?"
"There is the simple fact that I love him," Regina shot back. She hadn't so much as opened her eyes. When Emma would have protested that that wasn't what she meant, Regina just lifted her head and shot her a glare before giving a long, slow sigh. "...I'm uniquely qualified to raise Henry," she finished. "Let's leave it at that."
While Emma normally would have questioned further, another wave of dizziness suddenly seemed to take hold of her. Weariness overcame her muscles, and her grip on the empty tumbler faltered, almost dropping it before catching herself.
Regina's eyebrows raised, her lips pursed slightly. "Are you alright?" If she didn't know better, Emma might have thought she actually cared. In fact, Regina was looking at her almost... too intently. Like she had suddenly become a lab rat or something equally worthy of study.
It was unnerving, and she hated it. "Yeah," Emma muttered, trying to brush off the feeling. She raised a shaking hand to her brow and rubbing her temple. The dizziness did not abate. "Tired," she admitted. "I uh... didn't sleep well." That was putting it lightly. Hopefully the explanation would convince Regina that she didn't need such close scrutiny.
"And then drove all night." Regina supplied. She seemed to give the matter some thought, and then finally rose from her chair, placing her now empty glass on the sidebar. "There's a guest bedroom down the hall. Rest there until you feel you can properly handle a car. And then leave."
Though she initially bristled, standing quickly to defend that she could drive just fine, thanks, the effort was made moot when another shock of dizziness coursed through her. Regina just raised her eyebrows in an evident 'I told you so.' Emma wondered if that was just natural for her, or if she was slipping into 'Mom' mode. "You're just going to let me stay?" she managed.
Giving another sigh, the mayor straightened her back, glancing over her shoulder at the stairs."Henry..." she began, and Emma was struck again by the amount of care that managed to creep into Regina's voice when she said his name, "will need to feed again soon, and then he'll sleep until sunset. He'll want to see you." To say goodbye went unspoken, but Emma didn't need to physically hear it. It was implied.
Stumbling a little on feet that didn't seem to function quite right, Emma found herself led to the guest room without another word. Regina turned down the bed, ever the hostess, and then brushed past the blonde quickly once Emma was inside. "Pleasant dreams, Miss Swan," she called.
If she hadn't been so exhausted, the blonde would have laughed. Her dreams were never pleasant.
…
Even having been woken in the middle of his sleep, Henry's strength was returning, and this time Regina didn't have to hold the cup at all. She'd even foregone the sippy cup entirely, instead handing her son a glass with a curly straw sticking out of it. Henry beamed, making a grotesque slurping noise with the straw when the blood was all gone before his mother took the glass away, pretending she wasn't smiling at his antics. It was a good sign.
The smile faded when Henry chirped up immediately afterward: "Is Emma still here?"
A pang shot its way through her heart, and Regina had to look away, taking a moment to steady herself, using the excuse of setting the empty glass on the dresser before turning back to him. That had hurt far more than it really should have. "...Yes," she finally answered, half-sitting on his bed to run a hand down his cheek. "She's asleep down the hall."
"Good." He yawned, stretching his arms out over his head before they burrowed back in the pillows again. "I like Emma," he added sleepily.
"... I know," she said softly. Henry was already asleep. Rising, Regina grabbed the glass and left his room, closing to door behind her.
When she got to the kitchen, the glass was in pieces in her hand, and slow, sluggish blood was oozing out of a gash along her palm.