Killian wasn't sure how long he sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Emma to speak. Time wasn't something that held great meaning to him anymore. He could sit still for months on end and it would only feel like the blink of an eye. But for some reason, he was painfully aware of just how long Emma had remained silent after his confession – because Emma Swan was never that silent.

A part of him wanted to beg her to say something. At least if she threw him out of her home he'd know she was okay. But he didn't want to rush her after dumping his entire (abbreviated) history on her. That being said, he couldn't deny that her silence was completely unnerving.

Killian had just made up his mind to ask how she was when he noticed a slight change in her father's heart rate from the room next door. He was now completely out of time.

"Your father's waking up," he offered softly.

Emma seemed to jump a little at the sound of his voice. It was almost as if she'd forgotten he was there.

"You can tell?"

"His heart rate has increased. It's nothing to worry about," Killian hastened to add, when he saw concern flood her features once more. "It's common in humans. Their heart rate increases minutely as their awareness returns. You'd have to be a vampire to notice it. But you uh… you should probably be by his side when he does open his eyes."

Emma nodded her head in understanding before pushing herself up to her feet. She had no idea what her father would remember from the evening, let alone how she would go about explaining what had happened to him.

A cool hand landed on her upper arm and she froze suddenly, whipping her head up to meet Killian's concerned gaze. "Tell him the truth," the vampire told her. "As Sheriff of this town, he's going to see a lot of strange things. Tell him the truth. It might be hard to believe but it'll be easier to rationalize this stuff when he has an explanation for it all."

"Okay."

The hand on her arm disappeared and Emma's gaze flicked down to the place it had been resting before she raised her eyes to meet Killian's own.

"Are you staying?"

"I think it'll be better if I don't," he told her. Every part of him wanted to stay. Maybe if he remained close to Emma he'd be able to better protect her against what he knew was coming. But it would be easier for her father if he didn't wake from a traumatic experience to find a strange man in his home. And Killian knew that right then, Emma was more concerned about her dad than she was about The Harvest. "I'll be around when you need me."

"After dark," Emma quipped.

"After dark," he chuckled. Killian took a chance and leaned in to press his lips to her forehead before he said, "For as long as you want me around. Take care of your father, Emma."

"I will. And you uh…take care?" It felt odd telling a vampire to take care of himself when every instinct usually urged Emma to kill them. But she knew that she didn't want any harm to come to Killian. She wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to live with herself if she knew someone had hurt him on her watch. Besides, it wasn't like she could tell Killian could have a good day. He was likely going to sleep through most of it.

"Thanks," he chuckled, making his way over to the back door. "Good luck with your father." And just like that, he was gone. Emma still wasn't entirely used to the speed with which he moved, and she wasn't sure she ever would be. But at that moment, she had far more important things on her mind.

Emma quickly cleared away their mugs before she headed through to the lounge where her father was already beginning to stir. She chose the seat opposite the sofa to watch over him, pulling her legs up to curl underneath her body.

And then she waited.

It took a few more moments of her father restlessly turning on the sofa, letting out short grunts of pain as he did, before he finally opened his eyes.

"Emma?"

"I'm here, Dad," she called back, rushing over to his side.

"Where… how did I get here?"

"A friend of mine brought you home," she explained vaguely, because Emma wasn't going to say anything to her father about what had happened, if he couldn't remember that evening's events.

David struggled against the blanket tucked around him to pull himself up into a sitting position. Emma held out a glass of water which he took from her with shaking hands, and he down the lot in two large gulps.

"What happened?" he finally asked. "I remember…"

Emma bit down hard on her bottom lip as she waited to see just how many details he'd be able to recall. For a moment, it seemed like David had forgotten everything. But then his eyes widened with shock and he turned to stare at his daughter.

"You! They… she… she called you a… a…"

"Slayer," Emma finished for him. "She called me a Slayer."

David's eyes widened further, which Emma hadn't thought possible. But she was painfully aware that her father hadn't been confused by the term Slayer. It was almost like he'd heard it used before.

"You know, don't you?" she said, as realization began slowly dawning over her. "You know about this town and what's hiding in the shadows. You know!"

"Yes," David croaked out. "I didn't know before I took the job, though. I promise you, Emma, if I had known we never would have moved to this town. But yes, I know. The Mayor told me all about its history when I first met with him. I didn't believe him at first but it didn't take long for me to see for myself just how…how… unnatural Storybrooke is. I hadn't uh… I hadn't seen one them before, though. Not like that. Not until -"

"Tonight," she answered for him, as she tried to absorb everything that her father had just said. It was turning out to be one hell of a night for revelations, and Emma's mind was struggling to process it all under the weight of the information that had been dropped onto her shoulders.

"How did you know?" David asked suspiciously.

"I'm the Slayer," Emma said, shrugging her shoulders like that would explain it all. Judging by the look on her father's face, it didn't. "You know, the Slayer. The one girl born in every generation who… I forgot the rest but you… you do know what a Slayer is, right?"

The look on David's face said he absolutely did not know what a Slayer was!

"Shit!"

"Language," he corrected automatically, and Emma chuckled a little at that hint of normalcy in an otherwise strange night. She pulled herself up to her feet and then crossed over to sit beside her father on the sofa, making sure to leave a good gap between the two of them, just to be safe.

"I don't know how it works but I'm the Slayer. I'm the only person in the world who has this innate strength and skill that's specifically designed to kill these things. I don't know where it came from or how I ended up with it, I just know that it's inside of me. With some more training, I can become good at this. Better than I am. Much better," she added in an undertone, because Emma knew that she needed a lot of work before she would be anywhere near close to Killian's level of dangerous – but she suddenly found herself wanting to get there. She needed to get there if she had any hope of protecting the town and the people in it, from the things that were preying upon them. "I can help people, Dad. I can save their lives. I just… I just need to get better."

"No!" David protested fiercely. "Absolutely not!"

"This isn't really a yes or no kinda deal," she told him. "I mean, do you honestly think I want this? That I wanna spend my nights in cemeteries killing vampire when I could be out at a club with my friends? Fate has already chosen my path and this is it."

"Then it can un-choose it," her father argued.

Emma's smile was bittersweet as she told him, "That only really happens after I die."

What little color David had woken with left him at the thought of his daughter's death. A death that would come much sooner if she continued trying to fight the kind of creatures he'd seen earlier that evening.

"There has to be another way."

"There isn't. If I don't do this, nobody else will. And that could hurt a lot of people, Dad. I'm not asking for your permission here. This is something I have to do, whether you like it or not. I'm just hoping that maybe you'll choose to support me instead of trying to stop me. I mean, you have all of that police training, right? You'd probably be much better at helping to get me in shape than Gold is."

"Whose Gold?"

"The librarian," Emma explained, and David's brows shot up into his hairline. "It's a really long story," she sighed. "One that he can tell much better than I can. Why don't we… why don't we get some rest tonight and then I'll take you to meet him tomorrow?" she suggested.

David wasn't sure he'd get any rest that evening. Not with all the knowledge that was currently racing through his mind, battling for attention with all of the plans he was busy making to try and keep his daughter safe. But his head was throbbing and he needed to use the bathroom, so he simply nodded his agreement as his daughter rose from the sofa.

Emma bent down to brush her lips to his forehead as said, "Sleep well, Dad," and then made her exit from the room.

David waited until he'd heard her bedroom door close behind her before he moved. But instead of heading for the bathroom, the Sheriff headed for his laptop, which was still charging on the kitchen counter.

For those of you who don't know, I'm going through some difficult times personally at the moment both with my health and in my private life, so I'm afraid updates will remain sporadic for the time being because I just don't have the time or energy to dedicate to my fandom life right now.