VI: Should Have Known Better than to Want to be Alone

A/N: My sincerest apologies, readers. I had (and still have) every intention of making weekly updates to this story. Unfortunately last week I was extremely ill and could get almost nothing done without some part or other of my body hurting. So, obviously, the update didn't happen. So sorry to keep you all waiting- to compensate, this chapter is almost obscenely long. And... well, you should notice a definite shift, I think.

I hope you enjoy.

Please review if you feel so inclined.

Much thanks, as always, to my beta killer-elephants.

...

Mary Margaret, of course, did not cross the threshold onto Regina's property. She didn't have permission. The schoolteacher, instead, remained standing just outside the gate that led up to the house, looking decidedly sheepish, for a vampire. "Um... yes. Hi. I'm ...Mary Margaret. We never officially met." She extended her hand over the gate for Emma to shake.

With a roll of her eyes and a light touch to Henry's shoulder, Regina escorted her son up the pathway and inside, leaving Emma to deal with Henry's teacher on her own. Emma turned to watch them leave, disbelieving. And fighting the niggling voice that said she'd been abandoned. She didn't need Regina or Henry to fight her battles with her, she told it. She'd always been fine with them on her own. Even if this was an... unusual battle. When the door clicked behind mother and son, she managed to completely ignore the offered hand as she'd done to Kathryn earlier.

"Emma," she muttered to the brunette and gave a sigh. She couldn't believe she was about to do this. "...Sorry for slicing your arm." Apologizing to a vamp for an attempted Hunting had to go high on her list of things she'd never thought she would be doing. But if this woman was really Henry's teacher, and if she wanted to develop some kind of healthy relationship with her son, then she really had to let it go. Even if said teacher was a vamp.

Nodding, Mary Margaret shuffled her feet, pulling the edges of her cardigan closer around her shoulders. "I'm... sorry for earlier," she said quietly. "...I know it must have seemed like I was trying to attack you and I just wanted to apologi-"

Emma shook her head, cutting her off. "I'll forget it if you will," The Hunter grunted, hooking her thumbs through her belt loops.

The teacher nodded and attempted a smile. "Good." There was a long, awkward pause, finally broken when the vampire spoke again: "Well, I guess I'll go then."

Only nodding in reply, Emma continued to look down at her feet. It was the easiest way to suppress all the insistence of her mind that the creature before her was a mindless bloodsucking machine and really needed a bullet in the heart.

Thankfully oblivious to her line of thought, Mary Margaret just turned to go.

Giving an inward sigh, Emma stopped her with a call. "Hey, if you... maybe wanted to tell your werewolf friend that we ...talked?" If you could even call this that. She tried to elucidate: "...Granny's food is pretty good and since I guess I'm gonna be staying here a while..." she trailed off.

Mary Margaret actually laughed a little. "Ruby get a bit testy with you?" she asked. "She's just a bit protective of me, is all. I'll ask her to let it go."

"...Thanks."

Before the conversation could get any more awkward, Henry managed to save them from further foot shuffling by popping his head out the door and asking if Emma was coming inside or what. She flashed her son a genuine smile and then gave the vampire one last, slightly less distrustful look than she had before, and headed inside.

Where she was immediately whooshed at and then pounced upon by a very rambunctious, very strong little eight-year-old. Flung against the closing door by the force of his leap, she had to quell her automatic response, which was to fling the child from her, grab the nearest pointy object and thrust it forcibly through his chest. She actually had to stop and remind herself that this was her son. When she did, her arms curled around him and whatever scowl the 'attack' had caused to emerge on her face quickly melted away. Nothing in her life had ever felt so right, so perfect, as holding her son in her arms, even if he was a lot heavier than the last time she'd carried him. And even if he was a Sunwalker or whatever the hell he was.

"Hey, kid," she almost sighed, relaxing against the door as she held her son. She pulled back just a little to rifle a hand through his hair. She'd seen how often Regina seemed to smooth away the naturally fly-away look he had going for him. She couldn't help but take almost sadistic pleasure in most deliberately mussing it further. "Miss me or something?"

Henry rolled his eyes at her. "Uh, yeah," he grinned. "I talked about you all day!" His voice swelled with pride, like it was an achievement.

She didn't quite know how to process that. Instead, she simply nodded and bent to put the kid down and actually enter the house, rather than be stuck against its door. She'd had quite enough of that from the mayor, after all. And, speaking of... she glanced around. "Where's Regin-" she paused, correcting herself with a wince. "..Where's your mom?"

The boy shrugged. "Making dinner."

As if on cue, the tell-tale clicks of Regina's heels on the floor announced her imminent presence. "Henry?" She strode into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. "Go ahead and do your homework while I get dinner ready, dear."

"It takes that long to heat up blood?" Emma found the words falling out of her mouth before she could help them.

With a slow turn of her head, the mayor regarded her with an icy stare. The two locked eyes and Emma could tell Regina was trying very, very hard to not do something magical to her while ...their? son was in the room. A blast of cold air seemed to rush over her skin and Emma forced back the shiver that desperately wanted to escape, determined to continue to stare down the brunette. Finally, the mayor just forced a very fast, fake smile. "No," she said simply and nodded lightly to Henry before turning back to the kitchen.

"Can Emma help with my homework?" Henry piped up, cheerfully oblivious to the fact that to the two women, the room had just gotten several degrees colder.

Regina froze, her body visibly tensing mid-step. She was obviously considering something. Pivoting on her heel, the mayor turned back with the same coldness in her eyes. The smile she gave was nothing short of evil, and this time Emma could not prevent the shiver as the mayor's currently fangless teeth bared with wicked delight. "...She can try."

...

After being led to her son's bedroom, the Hunter sat down on the edge of the bed as Henry pulled out his schoolbook. She stared dumbly at the huge monstrosity of a textbook for a moment, fortunately unnoticed as her son grabbed the binder with his assignments in it. Emma cleared her throat. She faced down witches and werewolves and vampires for a living. She could deal with assisting in third grade homework. Right? "Okay... so... what homework do you have, kid?"

He pulled a face. "History."

"Right." History. Of course. The expression on her face matched that of her son. "What are you learning about?"

"Ancient Rome." His fingers flew over the pages, quickly flipping to the relevant ones.

Emma looked down at the book, a line of surprise furrowing over her brow. "Isn't that a bit... advanced for you, kid?" Not to mention hardly relevant to the current state of the world...

The boy shrugged. "Principal Nolan says it's important to understand where we came from before we can know where we're going."

Her eyes rolled. It sounded like something a principal would say. Or... a thought occurred to her. "Is Principal Nolan a vampire, too?" she muttered, more to herself than her son.

He heard, of course, and fixed her with a strangely curious look. "No, he's human. He's Miss Blanchard's."

That surprised her. Her attention snapped up from feigned interest in the book to her son. But Henry was focused on his work, now, grabbing a pencil from his bag and completely oblivious to her surprise. Shaking her head, Emma forced the question that arose about why a vampire owned someone who was technically her boss to the back of her mind. It wasn't the time, and Henry didn't have the answers, anyway. She refocused her attention on the book. And then stared at it, pulling it out of her son's lap and into her own.

"...What the hel...pful textbook," she barely corrected herself in time, biting her tongue and then flipping through a few pages to cover herself. "Henry ...what... erm... what kind of history book is this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why is there a vampire arguing in the Roman Senate?" She gestured to one of the pictures, displaying an impassioned figure in a toga with very obvious fangs. She flipped to another page, this time showing a group of vampires in a war tent, with what appeared to be werewolves in the background.

"Because the emperors of Ancient Rome were in the habit of calling on those more experienced to advise in councils of war. How else did you think a nation prone to civil strife and with such few natural resources could take over so much of the world?"

Emma's head snapped up in the direction of the door, currently framing the amused form of Henry's adoptive mother. Regina continued with a small smile, "Such... advising sparked the first real phase of Claiming becoming in vogue, and then eventually led to gladiator fights- humans desperate to prove their worth in hopes of being Claimed, eventually bitten and turned." A flash of an expression over her face, and she quickly added almost as an afterthought, "or so I understand."

The blonde found herself at a loss. What exactly did you say to that? She glanced down at the book again, and then closed it in a hurry, pushing the book back at her son as if it were suddenly repellant.

Henry took it from her with an easy smile, marking the page relevant to his homework with a note card. "Mom's really good at history," he offered simply.

Regina's head quirked slightly to the side. "Indeed," she purred, and then in a completely different tone: "Dinner is ready."

With a whoop, Henry leapt off the bed and bounded down the stairs so emphatically that he lost a shoe on the way down. Noticing as she followed, Regina chastised him, receiving only a vague and far away sounding, "Sorry, mom!" in response. Henry was obviously already at the table.

As if on cue, Emma's stomach rumbled loudly, and her unease about the book and what warped kind of history Henry was learning about in school was momentarily derailed. She deliberated on whether she should try Granny's again for her own dinner plans. Maybe Mary Margaret had talked to Ruby by now? Or, hell, the sun was rising now. Maybe Ruby had gone to bed. She could hope. Another rumble of her stomach prompted her to finally swing her legs over the side of Henry's bed. It wouldn't hurt to try.

Regina's head poked around the corner of the door. "Miss Swan? I said dinner was ready. Your chicken is going to get cold."

A snide 'yeah, I heard' was almost on its way out her mouth before her brain did a few mental calculations and froze. Her jaw dropped open. "You... made me dinner?" her voice was a pitiful excuse for a squeak.

Regina just raised an eyebrow like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

...

After dinner, Emma lay back in the bed that she was slowly adjusting to the idea of being hers. Maybe. At any rate it was the one she'd slept in before.

Her stomach was full almost to bursting. When Regina had said her chicken was getting cold, Emma hadn't yet realized she meant a whole chicken. Coupled with the heaping helpings of green beans and summer squash, and Emma had found herself very, very full. And suddenly very exhausted. She wasn't alone in that. After drinking his own dinner (and making sad puppy dog eyes when his mother refused to allow him to eat any of Emma's), Henry was showing definite signs of sleepiness. Unsurprising, given that the sun had fully come up by that point. Though there was no risk of any light getting into the house, of course.

Regina had ensured he was ready for bed in no time at all, and as Emma left the room after kissing his forehead goodnight, she couldn't keep the yawns from wreaking havoc over her. Regina had just looked at her and suggested bedtime for her, too.

And here she was. Falling asleep in the house of a vampire Queen. And it was, she supposed, kind of her house, too now. Maybe. She still wasn't exactly sure how that all worked. But she was too tired to worry about it, now. She'd figured out more in the morning.

As sleep finally took hold of her, her last thought was a sort of odd realization that Regina had never answered when she'd asked what the mayor was planning to do with her.

Her dream was shifting. She was still running, still stumbling, her pregnant body heaving with every pace as the monster chased her. It still caught her as it always did, pressing her against the wall of the alley, dark eyes twinkling in fiendish delight as fangs sunk greedily into her throat.

She screamed, but even as she felt her life being drained away from her, she heard a voice not her own laughing with savage glee in her mind. You're mine now, Miss Swan.

The monster thrust her away, her blood coursing down its chin, and she stared at it with eyes rapidly going dark. It was Mary Margaret. Still laughing, the vampire dropped her and she fell to the ground, drawing in a haggard breath as her body lay dying. She looked up again, clawing at the beast with her last strength.

Kneeling over her, the monster grabbed her by the still bleeding throat, long claws sinking into flesh that was already torn and ragged. Apparently no longer content to simply let her bleed to death. Emma fumbled weakly with the hand, and noticed with a hacking gasp that the monster's face had changed.

Now it was Henry's. Then Mary Margaret again. And then Regina's dark lips pulled back in a cruel smile.

Miss Swan.

"Miss Swan!"

At the shout, Emma's eyes snapped open, her body instantly on the alert and responding automatically to the perceived threat. She grabbed the closest possible weapon to her hand- a pencil from the bedside table- and flung it in the direction of the voice.

The pencil froze in mid-air, jerking with the suddenness of its stop as Regina's hand darted out. The bit of wood hovered two inches from the mayor's chest, the sharp tip poised to strike directly over her heart. Staring at the improvised stake with wide eyes, Regina tilted her head and ran her finger along its length before directing her attention at the woman who had thrown it. "Impressive, but hardly necessary," Regina muttered. She raised an eyebrow at Emma and lowered her hand. The pencil clattered harmlessly to the floor.

Still sleep-addled and inwardly trembling from her nightmare, the Hunter glanced down at the rolling writing utensil, then back to the woman she'd nearly impaled with it. Trying to shake off the need to pant or wipe off the cold sweat she could feel dripping down her arms, she tried to give a shrug and appear nonchalant. She sat up more fully in the bed, unafraid of leveling a glare at the Queen. It was easier than remembering her dream. "Yeah, well, I don't react well to people waking me."

Another raise of a dark eyebrow. Regina seemed almost amused at the fact that Emma had come inches away from killing her. "You were screaming, dear," she stated simply. She held a cup of something in her free hand. The one that had not stopped the pencil. When Emma's eyes fell on it, Regina seemed to remember its presence, and she offered it to the blonde. "This should help."

Warily, Emma just eyed it, until Regina gave a scoff. "It isn't poisoned. An infusion of chamomile, valerian root and honey."

Still mistrustful, Emma took the cup anyway. If Regina wanted to kill her, she reasoned, she probably wouldn't do it by poison, anyway. It was warm and sweet going down, and the Hunter found herself not minding the taste of it. When the cup was empty, she handed it back to Regina. With nothing now to occupy her hands, Emma wrapped them around herself and she looked away. Her voice was much quieter when she asked, "Did I wake Henry?"

"Henry?" Regina almost laughed, approaching the bed slowly. "No, dear. He sleeps like the dead. You woke me, though, which is quite an achievement."

If Regina was expecting an apology, she was going to have to live with being disappointed, Emma decided. She wasn't giving one. But the Queen's lips pursed in contemplation, not anger. She glanced down at the pencil, hand almost idly moving to her chest and resting over where the weapon had nearly pierced her skin. "...Are you always so precise, Miss Swan?"

"When my targets don't magic away my weapons, yeah," Emma muttered, running a hand wearily through her hair. "Why?"

"...It occurs to me that I never answered your earlier question, just before Henry got home. And I might have just thought of a use for you."

...

Guarding the wall.

And, occasionally, providing back up for law enforcement, when such incidents required her assistance. Which was seldom. The irony of it all was certainly not lost on her. A Hunter, now employed to patrol and protect a city full of potential former targets, working directly underneath a werewolf. She could have laughed, any time she thought of it.

She began to fall into a routine in spite of herself. Days of mistrust and discomfort became weeks of slow, begrudging acceptance. She found that she almost enjoyed parts of her new life. It was almost too easy to succumb to the seduction that was Storybrooke itself. The town wasn't perfect, by any means. But it was nice, when the only real worry in her day was wondering if Ruby was going to overcook her eggs again. Whether at Granny's insistence or Mary Margaret's, the young werewolf had grudgingly mellowed a bit in her treatment of the Hunter, but there was still a bit of animosity there. That didn't really go away until midsummer had passed and longer nights had given rise to a much more active nightlife. The third time Mary Margaret had quietly invited her for drinks with 'the girls,' she'd accepted. 'The girls' were a mixed bunch- Ruby, Mary Margaret, Ashley- human, whose Claimer Sean worked in the gym and who Emma had met a few times, and Kathryn.

She found herself developing a casual kind of friendship with the other blonde. Kathryn was easy to get along with, and though sometimes she and Mary Margaret had stiff moments- some kind of bad blood there, Emma never heard the details- they always relaxed and let go by the end of the night.

Sometimes the two blondes would stay after the rising sun sent the other members of the group to ground, talking about everything and nothing. She learned most of the town gossip that way- how Mary Margaret had once drained her human so badly that David had ended up in a coma for a few weeks. Regina had been furious. She learned that Regina's head lackey Sidney had been Claimed, turned, and then his maker had left in the middle of the night with no word or explanation, leaving the heartbroken former newspaperman with no one to turn to but the Queen. She learned that despite her initial thoughts, Graham was not the Alpha of Storybrooke's werewolves. That honor belonged to Granny. Graham, apparently, had been found as an adolescent pup just outside the city walls, and Regina had found him during the building of the wall and given him to Granny. A lot of the gossip featured Regina, she noticed, but the Queen/Mayor never seemed to actually be the focus of it. She had to wonder if Regina designed it that way.

As for her job itself, it was... quiet, usually. Every so often there was a fuss by the gate- a rogue vamp from the outside trying to get in. She learned very quickly that Storybrooke was not a haven for every vampire. In fact, all the vamps that had even come close to getting to the gate since she'd arrived were all dealt with the same way: a bullet through the chest from one of the snipers.

She liked that part of her job.

She learned that the only reason she'd managed to approach as far as she had was because they'd sensed Henry's presence in her car. They hadn't known it was him yet, of course, but they'd known, somehow, that there was an ...acceptable sort of vampire nearing the town. She asked for more clarification on that point, but neither Graham nor Regina had exactly been forthcoming.

On the nights when her job wasn't quite as ...stimulating as she needed, she often went to the gym. She figured she must owe Frederick at least six punching bags by now, but he never called her on it. He was a quiet guy- often whooshing around setting things up or just watching his business when she was in there. She found she didn't mind his presence much, once she got used to it.

The best part of her new life, though, was Henry. A full two months she'd been in Storybrooke, and she never failed to be back at the mansion in time for her son to get home. On weekends, they'd often spend most of the night together- playing inside, working on schoolwork, or playing outside. Regina had intially objected, of course, but it had quickly become obvious to Emma that when Henry really wanted something, his adoptive mother could never say no for very long. And Henry, like herself, was ridiculously stubborn. So more often than not the mayor would interrupt her normal weekend routine by stopping to check on what she had started calling "the two children." A moniker Emma detested, but when objected to would only be met by the mayor raising an eyebrow and pointing out that 26 years of age was very much still a child.

The only real part of her life that hadn't changed was the one thing she wanted to. Her dreams hadn't left her alone- they only worsened. Often she woke in the middle of the day with hoarse vocal chords and sweat beading over her body. Some days, she would wake to Regina already standing in what had become 'her' room, silently offering the now-familiar brew designed to help her sleep. And it did, a bit. The dreams were never as bad, after taking it.

Some days as they waited for the drink to kick in, they talked. More often they didn't. The past was never discussed. Emma found herself exceedingly grateful that the mayor never asked questions, never demanded to know what horrors lurked in her subconscious that caused such nightmares.

...

Her routine came grinding to a halt early one evening after having just dropped Henry off at school. (Regina had allowed her that privilege, three days a week, and Henry had been sooo excited the first time he'd gotten to hop into Emma's yellow bug to be driven to school.)

This night, she came back to the mansion to hear Regina's shouting echoing through the house. Never a good sign. "Absolutely not! Your top priority is sealing the breach!" It only got worse as she got close enough to hear what was actually being screamed. And who at.

"But your majesty-"

"Not up for discussion, Sidney! Get the wall back up, now!"

"...Yes, my Queen."

The whoosh of Regina's lackey exiting the house nearly caused the Hunter to lose her balance on the stairs. The fact that Sidney had actually been allowed into the house only added to the mounting pile of dread building in her stomach. Bounding up the remaining stairs two at a time, Emma knocked on the door to the Queen's bedroom, entering before being told to do so. This part of the house was usually off-limits, but something told her today might prove an exceptions. Regina didn't even seem to notice, blurring around all over the room, rifling through papers, glaring out the window and putting the final items into her briefcase all at the same time. It was impressive to watch, Emma thought. But the frenetic jerkiness of the Queen's motions didn't help her sense of alarm. "...Problem?" she asked.

"Henry!" she hissed, coming to a startling halt in front of the blonde. "Is he safe?!"

"What? Yeah, he's at school. What's happened?"

Regina was a blur of motion again, grabbing her case and appearing to be about ready to leave the house. "The wall's been breached! Rogue vampires are rushing the guards- dozens of them, apparently."

"What?" Emma barely breathed, jaw dropping in shock. "...The wall?"

"Is down, dammit! The power has been shut off!" Regina appeared ready to brush past her and head to the scene of the problem. But she stopped, thinking, and then turned to look at Emma over her shoulder. "...Get your guns, Miss Swan," she ordered. "I'll meet you outside."

Even having had a month to atrophy, her muscles remembered all the haste and reflexes of her eight years of Hunting quickly enough. She was back outside and at her car quickly enough, popping the trunk of her trusty bug and grabbing the leather pouch containing her guns and ammunition. It was the work of a minute to have the familiar weight strapped to her again. A gun each on her hips, thighs, and two on her back. She would forego the leather jacket today. It was an emergency, after all. The second of her knives was slid into place in her boot just as Regina exited the house.

"Here," the mayor tossed her something that glinted silver. Emma caught it without thinking, and then stared. It was the magazine clip the mayor had taken from her the first night. She tucked it in her back pocket.

Regina didn't give her much time to dwell on it, coming up close enough to touch the blonde. She ran her eyes over the other woman, as if sizing her up, and nodded to herself. "...Try not to move much," she quipped. And before she could even ask why, she felt Regina's arms around her, lifting her bodily off the ground.

"What the hell-?!" and then they were moving.

Flying, more like. The ground whizzed by under the mayor's feet, and Emma yelped in sudden surprise, clutching tighter at the woman carrying her. The speed was dizzying. She clung to the woman as if her life depended on it. Any other time, she was sure Regina would have laughed at the death-grip. Now, the mayor only gritted her teeth and ran faster, the streets and houses of the town quickly gave way to trees and grass. Emma closed her eyes, unable to watch as the world blurred around her. It actually took her a moment to realize Regina was talking to her as she ran.

"The rogues will probably have gotten through by now. We're going outside the walls to cut them off. Your orders are very simple, Miss Swan," she heard the mayor growl in her ear. "Kill them all."

She'd have nodded if the idea of any further motion hadn't made her ill. The noise of fighting reached her ears, and though she hated the sudden assault to her sense, she forced herself to open her eyes. They were nearing the wall, the scene already near chaotic as the native werewolves and vampires struggled to keep a growing number of rogues from rushing inside the city. Ferocious, blood-covered and snarling, the attackers were more like the vampires Emma knew well. Even as a blur, in seeing the two side-by-side, they had little in common, save the fangs, with the vampires she'd come to know in Storybrooke. Not for the first time, she had to wonder what the difference really was. She had the passing thought to wonder where the hell all the outsiders were coming from, and then forced that question away. The first priority was getting rid of them. Where they'd come from could come later.

"Get ready," the mayor hissed, and Emma only had a split second to prepare before they came to a sudden and very disorienting stop. Regina dropped her arms of her burden, already turning to command the wolves and vampires gathered at the gate.

Tumbling from the Queen's grasp, the Hunter lurched forward onto all fours and was promptly very physically sick. If she noticed at all, Regina didn't pause in her whooshing about until she found whom she was searching for. "Eugenia!" At the sound of her name, Granny's eyes, gone yellow with near-change, fell upon the mayor. "Your wolves are with me outside the gates!"

Granny nodded and threw back her head to howl the order, and Regina turned her attention to a figure already working feverishly. "Sidney! Have the vampires remain within the city walls! Protect the humans, repel the rogues already within, and get the damn wall back up! And someone get Maleficent here now!"

Distracted by their orders, none but Emma saw the blur of motion suddenly rushing at the form of the Queen. Regina's attention was elsewhere, her body turned again towards Granny as fur sprang over the werewolf alpha's body. Even on her knees, with her stomach still retching, the Hunter nevertheless found a gun in her hand, wrist flicking easily upwards in a motion well-remembered. The shot rang out, the bullet connected directly with the heart of her target. She didn't tend to miss. The rogue exploded in a gush just as Regina's head snapped around to notice it falling into a puddle at her feet.

Overcoming the need to retch, Emma wiped her chin with the back of her free hand and got to her feet, raising an eyebrow at the stunned face of the Queen. She nodded in what could have been called deference, and then her eyes were on the battle beginning around them.

Pistol in each hand, Emma broke into a grin, and then a run, heading towards the onslaught of rogues coming at the wall. This was almost going to be fun.

...

Later, she would learn that this was only the second breach ever to have occurred since the wall had gone up. Later, she would discover that a breach of this particular magnitude could only have occurred through sabotage. And later, she would discover the real reason that Stroybrooke vampires were not at all like the ones currently attacking the town. The ones she was used to- the ones that owned the night, everywhere else.

At the moment, she was too busy shooting. And as each shot left the magazine of her gun, a little more satisfaction rolled its way through her body. She'd missed this.

Nine shots later resulted in a puddle each. One of the vamps rushed at her from behind, and she pivoted quickly, her leg swinging up to kick the monster in the head. Before she could shoot it, another came blurring at her. One of the wolves barreled into it from the side, chomping down onto the throat in a gushing haze of red. Recovered, the vamp she'd kicked rose and bared its fangs. Another shot, another vamp down.

A force suddenly slammed into her side and she reeled, falling to her knees and bracing as the vampire clawed at her throat, preparing to bite. It froze, unable to continue, but she was already grabbing its arm, kicking herself up and swinging her free hand around to slam the side of her gun into its head. It lurched sideways and she shot again.

Another whoosh of motion forced the werewolf who had come to her aid to go down with a screeching yelp of pain, two vamps above it. Another rushed at her, she dodged to the right, bending at the waist and firing two shots in quick succession. They connected, the bloody remains of the vamps showering over the previously gray wolf in squelches of red. Emma was already moving again, turning to face a new threat.

Her guns clicked empty, and she threw them aside, knowing she'd find them again later, and bent to grab one of the .45s at her thighs. Another vamp rushed at her, and she rolled to the ground, unholstering the guns as she rolled and coming to a stop on her knees. Another shot, another puddle. Clear of all immediate threats, Emma focused her fire now on the vamps further away. Another two went down in quick succession and then a howl brought her whirling around, exploding a third vamp who was about to lunge at Granny. She was pretty sure it was Granny, at least. The gray wolf seemed surprised, looked up at Emma and growled. Almost as if to say 'Hey, I had that one.'

Emma almost laughed, and winked at the wolf before turning around to down another vamp attempting to rush her from behind.. She was vaguely aware of Regina behind her and she spun around. The Queen was shouting orders Emma couldn't hear, pausing to ram her hand directly through the chest of one of the foreign vamps. It exploded around her hand and the Queen made a face, palm opening to drop the heart she'd just severed and then ruthlessly squeezed. From the blood and viscera that now covered both Regina's hands up to the elbows of her once white shirt, it appeared that was her preferred method of slaying.

Emma pulled a face at the gore. Effective enough, she supposed. Messy, though. A roar of a vamp behind her, and her attention was once again off the Queen and back on more immediate threats. This vamp decided to lunge at her. She backed up, twisting and ducking out of the way until the vampire landed on the ground. It twisted, snarling, and she kicked it viciously. Another vampire whooshed from nearby, covering the space of the open field before the gate in a matter of seconds. Emma aimed, fired, and the running target went down. She turned her attention back to the one on the ground, placed her gun directly over its heart, and pulled the trigger. Her clip empty again, she ejected it, threw the depleted magazine at another vamp to distract it for the split second it took to pull the spare Regina had returned to her out of her pocket and snap it into the pistol. The next shot was aimed at the distracted vamp's heart, and another bloody spray littered the field.

A squelch from behind her told her that Regina, too, had just finished dispatching another of the invaders. The Queen paused to take in the sheer amount of puddles surrounding the blonde, and raised her eyebrows, impressed. Her attention was only so distracted for a moment, as she quickly turned back to the wall. "Sidney!" she shouted.

"We're trying, your majesty!" he answered. "The power source has been tampered with. We have to find an alternate!"

Regina growled dangerously, approaching the wall with a whoosh of motion and stopping to thrust her arm through another interloper's chest. "Where the hell is Maleficent?!"

Even as she said the name, a sudden influx of purple smoke began to billow around the feet (and paws) of those defending the wall. Focusing into a single pillar, the smoke solidified, revealing a very smug-looking witch. "You called?"

The mayor gave a nod, raising her hands as if to shout 'finally!' Over her shoulder, she barked an order. "Miss Swan! Cover me!"

Raising her gun, Emma complied with two more kills in quick succession. Apart from 'kill them all,' it was the first order Regina had given her she had no problem with obeying.

Taking in the Queen's appearance as if completely oblivious to all else around them, the blonde witch ran her eyes over the mayor, eyebrow raising. "Regina, dear. What have you done to your shirt?"

"Shut up and give me your hand."

Glancing at the mayor's outstretched hand, dripping and covered with the remains of who knew how many vampires, the blonde witch recoiled. "You cannot be-"

Regina's fangs were fully extended, the pupils of her eyes gone completely black as she glared at the witch. "Now, Maleficent!"

Emma rolled her eyes, and went back to shooting. Her gun emptied. Or... should have. But the weight felt off in her hand of a sudden. Too heavy. Curious, she fired it at a vamp nearing the two witches. A bullet tore through the monster's chest. Bewildered, she fired another shot. And another. She took down three more vamps, and then gun still felt full. She nearly dropped the gun, and then her eyes shot back to the mayor, now next to Maleficent. Their right hands were clasped, lefts pointing at the wall. From the joining of their fingers began to pulse a warm, yellow glow, spreading outward along their bodies, bathing the entire field in a golden haze.

The two witches burned with all the ferocious intensity of the sun, power radiating out from their extended hands and pouring into the wall. With a shout from Sidney, the silver defense grid came flaring back to life. The wall was back online.

The wolves howled in triumph and even Emma laughed at the very welcome sight of electricity buzzing through the wires of the wall.

But the witches were not finished yet. With the wall restored, their attention turned to the field itself.

Regina's gaze met Emma's, and the inky blackness of pupil-less irises threatened to bore into her very core. The Hunter stood captivated, frozen in place. The same, apparently, could be said for everyone else, vampire or werewolf alike, on the field.

The light pulsed out from the two witches, radiating ever outward in a massive wave that thundered through the entire field. Emma felt it shockwave through her system, and she gasped at the intensity, falling to her knees. She felt warm. And healthy. Very healthy. And she knew then why Regina had insisted all her own vampires remain inside the wall. The two witches were directly channeling the true source of all magic. Sunlight was sweeping its way over the field. The remaining rogues were fried instantly as the wave hit them, their screams of agony falling only partially from their lips before they were reduced to ash.

The wave fell into oblivion. The very instant she was able, Maleficent dropped the Queen's hand as if the touch was painful, lurching slightly away. Emma watched the other blonde shake herself, as if tired. Maleficent's eyes met her own, and her lips twisted in a blurred smile before purple fog had once more reclaimed the woman. And she was gone.

Rising to her feet, Emma's gaze turned toward Regina. The Queen seemed bolted to her spot, hand still outstretched, eyes still wide open, though the consuming blackness had faded back down to dull brown. There were tears pouring down the brunette's face. Hesitant, Emma approached her with empty hands and open palms. "Regina?" she tested, as gently as she could.

Her head snapped in Emma's direction at the sound of her name, and Regina drew in a sudden, gasping breath. As if she'd forgotten how. As if, Emma considered with a furrowed brow, she'd forgotten she didn't need to breathe. Erasing the presence of tears with the back of a bloodstained hand, the mayor gave herself a shake, much as Maleficent had done. The difference was that afterward, Regina didn't run away. She ran blood (and tear and whatever else) caked hands down her skirt, smoothing away imaginary wrinkles, tossed her hair back into place, and cleared her throat. "...Back inside the walls, please, everyone."

Staring at her, Emma found herself complying along with the werewolves, who remained as wolves for the moment until ordered otherwise. The fight, after all, wasn't over yet.

As she passed by the Queen, Regina blinked at her, lips pursing in apparent thought. To Emma, she looked a bit shaken, but the Hunter elected not to call her on it for now. She just brushed by with a nod.

"Miss Swan?" Emma turned her head. "...Impressive shooting."

The Hunter looked down at the gun in her her hand, with its magazine that had somehow never run out of bullets. She looked back to the woman who she now knew must have enchanted it while it was in her possession, and nodded. "Thanks, Regina."

A/N: I do hope you enjoyed the return of Emma's badassery. I know I'd missed it. She should keep it for a good while to come. Things are only going to get more... active. Stay tuned.

~M