Just A Girl (1/11)
Title: Just A Girl (1/?)
Author: Race122VE (Coll)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: R (mostly language, then violence and some semi sexiness as the fic goes on)
Summary: “But…you’re just a girl.” Glee AU fic.
Word Count: About 4k-ish this part.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author’s Note: So…now that the prologue is done, Santana is a vampire Slayer. This is not a Buffy crossover; I’m just using the lore and putting it into the Glee universe. Things will get explained along the way and, as stated previously, I will mention some things that happened in S1 of Glee, but this is pretty much a whole new verse. Thanks for reading and letting me know what you think.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Santana probably got a good hour of sleep, as she predicted on her way home.
There were so many awful things about being chosen, but the lack of sleep was always on her mind. Along with all the other powers, her body can adapt to the lack of sleep. She’s not always 100%, but she can function enough to get through practice, school, Glee, training, and patrol. The bed is warm and soft, but when she chances peeking at her alarm clock and sees she only has a half hour to get up, ready, and to practice Santana pushes herself up and walks to the bathroom.
She manages to get dressed and put together pretty quickly. Not having to stand in front of her closet and pick out an outfit was one of the perks of having to wear her Cheerio’s uniform all the time, and Santana only appreciated it after her calling or whatever.
As she heads downstairs she pauses and listens to see if her mom is in the kitchen, but everything seems quiet and empty. There’s a tinge of saddens that creeps up on her, but she has no time to deal with any feelings right now. She heads to the fridge to grab a bottle of water and pauses when she sees the normally empty door now housing one item.
It’s a note taped to the door. Taped, for Christ’s sake.
This time, she allows herself to feel sad and pathetic about the fact that between her and her mother they don’t even have a freaking magnet anywhere on their fridge. The feelings shift quickly to anger when she actually walks up close enough to read the note.
“Fuck.”
Her mother had grabbed her laundry before leaving for her job early that morning and saw the dust covered Cheerios uniform Santana didn’t hide very well. Usually, Santana took care of her own laundry, but with Coach insisting on having the uniforms dry cleaned her mother occasionally took them in for Santana on her way to work and today seemed to be one of those mornings. Now, tonight was going to be a night where she was going to have to explain how she got the uniform, quoting the note, ‘covered in dirt when she was supposed to be studying with Brittany and Quinn.’
Her eyes looked over to the clock on the microwave. Fifteen minutes left. This was not what she needed this morning, but it’s what she came to expect with her new, double life. Either way, the only thing she should be focusing on right now was getting to practice. She had all day to think of something to say.
After a quick jog, she bursts through McKinley High’s doors and pushes through the crowd (only knocking over a couple of people today, it’s a new record since her super strength has kicked in) towards the locker room. Practice is starting as she rushes past rows and rows of lockers before she gets to hers in the back. She checks out the mirror, pleased to find that she’s not sweating like a pig and just has to shuffle around some items to make room for her bag.
When she shuts her locker door, Quinn is on the other side with her arms crossed over her chest and a ‘what the fuck’ glare plastered on her face. Santana screams because, well…she’s shocked. She’s supposed to have a new, sixth sense about things and fucking Quinn sneaks up on her?
The day was not going well.
“Jesus, Quinn, you fucking scared the shit out of me!”
“Language,” Quinn admonishes. “Brittany’s mad at you.”
“Good morning to you too,” she grumbles back, purposefully ignoring Quinn’s jab at her mouth and the sinking feeling in her stomach at the idea of Brittany being upset with her.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“About the language? I’m fucking ignoring it,” she shoots back, side stepping Quinn so she can make her way out of the locker room and the subject of Brittany.
Santana kind of had a feeling Brittany was…not mad per say, but not happy with her either. She doesn’t train and patrol every night, but the schedule that Coach came up with covers every night of the week. If she’s not giving an excuse to her mom she’s most likely giving one to Brittany...and Quinn, but Quinn is different than Brittany. She’ll just chalk up Santana’s behavior to her mom or something else.
Brittany was different for many reasons.
The first, and most important, was that Santana was completely gone for the blonde dancer.
It was something she hasn’t admitted to anyone. She had only began to admit it to herself at the beginning of the school year. Brittany had gone away with her family for the last month before their Sophomore year started, and it wasn’t until the absence that Santana realized how much she needed the girl in her life. Then the jealousy of seeing her friend make out with practically everyone that mattered in their class (and the janitor) pushed Santana to admit that, yeah…she had a thing for Brittany.
The bright side to the chosen, destiny thing was that her brain was so occupied with other shit that she didn’t have to deal with the whole ‘I’m into my best friend’ thing.
“Do you even know what you did?”
Quinn had managed to step in front of Santana, blocking the exit to the locker room.
“We’re going to be late.”
Quinn scoffs. “You’ve been late the whole week, Santana. It’s only been for the first five or ten minutes, but Coach yells at you and then lets it slide miraculously. And I’m the Captain. We have time to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Santana fires back, her tone telling Quinn that she should drop it.
“How about the fact that you’ve been walking around like a zombie for the past few weeks? And…you blew Brittany off last night.” Quinn was always horrible at picking up on things like Santana implying that she should shut her mouth, but it didn’t change that fact that what she said had caught Santana’s attention.
Firstly, there was the zombie comment. She had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming that zombies don’t walk like slow morons, they fucking run fast as shit and want to claw your flesh off and eat it. She would know. Since all this…stuff, she’s had the pleasure of dealing with zombies.
All that, however, was overshadowed by the subject of Brittany “What?”
“She had that date with Scott…whatshisface, but it was a group thing and you told her you would tag along,” Quinn reminds her, but it all flew right over Santana’s head. “She said she called you and texted a bunch of times.”
She had some kind of bitchy comeback on her tongue, but then her mind kicked in and she flashed back to the previous night. Specifically, picking up her phone and ignoring the missed calls and texts to answer the call from Sue Sylvester.
“Shit.”
“What is going on with you lately?” Quinn asks the anger and accusation disappearing from her tone and concern taking over. Quinn can be a real bitch sometimes, and can appear like she doesn’t give a damn, but when she gets like this…when she gets worried, Santana knows she’s not doing as good of a job at covering her lies as she thought she was.
“Nothing.” She may have accepted her role, her purpose, but she is still very good at denial.
“Look, Santana…I know you have secrets, and I know that you like to keep things bottled up, but…” Quinn trails off. She’s frustrated, not able to put her thoughts into words, and Santana gets that and secretly hopes it’s enough for the Head Cheerio to drop the conversation but there is no way the universe is going to let her off the hook that easily. “You know how things are when Brittany’s upset about something. If you’re going to keep your problems bottled up, fine. Whatever. But don’t alienate the one person that cares about you the most.”
“What about you?”
Quinn arches an eyebrow, and Santana rushes on, “You implied that Brittany is the only who cares about me…”
“You know I care about you, S,” Quinn says firmly. “But we both know that you and Britt are closer and…right now she’s pissed, it’s your fault, and everyone else is going to be brought down because she’s in a bad mood.”
Santana begins to roll her eyes, but she doesn’t get there. “You know I’m right.” Quinn grabs on to her elbow, yanking Santana forward slightly and punctuating each word to make her point.
The whole thing pisses Santana off, but all she can really focus on is that they’re late.
Quinn was right. Coach was letting her off easy at Cheerios practice, but no one knew what she endured during training.
“Fucking fine…I’ll fix it,” she says, but Quinn’s grip is firm. Santana can’t really help what happens next. The blonde squeezes, not hard…not to someone like Santana who can take punches from vampires, but her body reacts before she knows what’s happening. She jerks her elbow from Quinn’s hand, but somehow manages to shove her friend at the same time.
Normally, this would be no big deal. However, she’s still learning how to deal with her strength, especially when she’s in a situation where someone is, technically, invading her personal space and being semi violent with her. The force, however, knocks Quinn into the doors.
Well, technically, she pushes Quinn through the doors and onto her ass.
“Shit, Santana.”
She knew it was bad when Quinn cursed. Quinn never cursed. She stepped forward, reaching out her hand to help the girl up and receiving a glare in return. “I’m sorry, Q...I’m so-”
“Forget it,” she snaps, smacking Santana’s hand out of the way before she pushes herself up. “Just…get it together. Fix whatever you did with Brittany and stop shoving your friends.”
Quinn walks away before Santana can even think of anything to say.
---
Practice goes by normally: filled with sweat, groans, tears, and some blood.
But, damn, are their routines flawless.
Quinn was right, though…Brittany was mad at her. This particular routine they were practicing did not require the two of them to be next to each other, but normally that wouldn’t stop Brittany from wandering over during breaks and chatting about ducks and her cat.
Coach decides to take out Santana and Quinn’s lateness (and Quinn’s scuffed up uniform from where she landed on the floor) on Brittany when she turned left instead of right at one point during the cheer by making her run laps. Then, the three of them endured her verbal abuse for the rest of the morning before Sue assigns Brittany to put the equipment away. She storms off the field, throwing a ‘not quite adequate’ about their performance over her shoulder before chucking her bull horn at a cowering freshman.
The field cleared, Quinn (who had done her own fair share of ignoring Santana) included, leaving just her and Brittany.
“Want some help?” she asks lamely, watching as Brittany gathers up some of the pom poms and begins walking towards the bleachers where there were bags waiting. She expected the silent treatment, but she didn’t expect it to hurt her as much as it did inside.
Since Brittany wasn’t planning on responding, she took it upon herself to start folding up the mats.
“You’re going to be late for class,” Brittany points out quietly as she walks back to Santana to help her.
“Fuck em,” she shrugs, not able to keep her eyes off Brittany. Doing that, though, makes it painfully obvious how much Brittany is avoiding eye contact. “Sorry about last night.”
Blue eyes connect this time, staring at Santana for long moments as they carry the mat to the side of the field before Brittany speaks. “You blew me off.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“You’ve been doing it a lot.”
Brittany speaks in a calm and even tone while Santana’s cut off plea was desperate. It’s how it always is with them. Santana’s outspoken and can get very passionate and loud about her thoughts. Brittany was more thoughtful about things, which was kind of ironic considering some of the things that came out of her mouth.
The truth was, however, that Brittany was smart. Sure, she needed a lot of help with her math and science homework, but she was thoughtful, honest, and always just knew things. Santana had actually been dreading this moment. Keeping her double life a secret was only a problem when it came to her mom, Quinn, and Brittany. The first two were busy enough with their own lives to really notice how strangely Santana’s behavior has been. Brittany was always able to see through her, and now she was calling Santana out and she had no choice but to keep lying.
“My mom’s been hounding me lately and…my phone is a piece of shit…I’ve just got a lot on my mind, B.” Santana looks down, hoping that it’s enough for Brittany to just stop being upset with her and to just be mildly annoyed. Anything was better than the silent treatment, and she only had to endure that for the length of practice.
“That’s all?”
It’s a test; Santana knows it is right off the bat. Brittany’s giving her one last chance to come clean, or to make her lie more convincing. She doesn’t want to lie because they’ve never kept anything from each other. Really, since they’ve become friends, Santana has only kept two things from Brittany, and both of them happened only this year.
She knew better, though. Knew that keeping this secret was for everyone else’s own well being. Coach has said that being a new, untrained…Slayer was a good thing. Not many of the vampires knew she had been called so, in the scope of things, she had the element of surprise on her hands. If any of them ever gathered enough brains and decided to form some sort of plan to get rid of her, they’d probably go after the people that matter most to her.
Like Brittany. And Quinn…and her mom.
No. No one could know what she was. Is.
“You know if there was something to tell I’d tell you.”
Santana fights to keep her face sincere, even though she hates herself for pulling out this card. It was a low blow because if she kept her face still and waited long enough Brittany would forgive her and move on. A smile begins to spread across Brittany’s face, and Santana hates herself more then she already did because that means Brittany buys her bullshit and she was basically forgiven.
“So…how’d last night go…?” It wasn’t really what she wanted to talk about, but Santana was kind of desperate for a subject change.
“Fine…I guess,” Brittany mumbles as they finished packing away the equipment. “He was kind of boring. Everyone was, really. I just spent the whole night trying to get a hold of you.”
Considering she just lied to her best friend and got away with it, she shouldn’t be so happy inside that Brittany had such a horrible time. “Well…I’m going to have to pay better attention to my phone. Can’t have you all bored and stuff.”
That one wasn’t, technically, a lie. Santana knew she had to be better at juggling if she wanted to try to hold on to the normal part of her life. For now she was just happy that things with Brittany were OK.
Everything was put away and as they walk off the field towards the school Brittany hooks her pinky with Santana’s. She has to ignore the shiver that runs up her arm and throughout her body every time it happens. There was a small part of her that wished Brittany wasn’t the way she was (open, touchy, and loving). It’d be so much easier to ignore her feelings, but that wasn’t the case.
Not to mention the fact that if Brittany didn’t do these little things, she wouldn’t be Brittany any more.
She had been going on about something for a while now. Once they were in the halls it was harder to pick up what she was saying and have a billion thoughts running through her mind at once. Brittany gives her pinky a squeeze and Santana looks over. “What?”
“I asked if you’re still coming over later…after Glee Club…like you usually do every Thursday…”
Shit. She forgot it was Thursday, but there was no way her mom was going to let her out of the house tonight. Santana squeezed her eyes shut, partly to think of something to say, but mostly because she could hear the way Brittany was sighing in disappointment and the last thing she needed was a visual. Then, she tugged them to a stop before pulling her hand free. “Of course you’re not. I guess I should have known.”
“It’s my mom, Britt-”
“Weren’t you with her last night?”
Her mouth opens and closes several times before her shoulders slump in defeat. “I just can’t, tonight.”
“It’s fine,” Brittany says as she walks past her and down the hall.
Once Brittany’s out of eye shot, Santana’s fist slams into the wall before she even realizes that it’s between periods and dozens of people just saw her put a cracked dent into concrete. She’s not really surprised when no one stops and just keeps going on with what they’re doing. She’s got the ‘don’t fuck with me’ persona down.
Instead she just wipes at her knuckles, cut open slightly and stained white from the wall, and stalks off to class where she hopes to get some of her shit together.
---
The universe keeps hating her that day because she can’t manage to think of anything to say to her mom during class. Also, she has no idea what to say to Brittany, or Quinn for that matter. When she gets to Glee Club, the two are seated at the piano talking in whispers. They look up and see her but continue with whatever it is they're talking about.
Judging by Quinn’s raised eyebrow and Brittany’s pout, Santana figures she’s the hot topic.
She stops for a moment to look around. If she can’t sit with Brittany or Quinn, she’s not really sure she wants to join any of the other small groups scattered about the choir room as they wait for Mr. Schuester. Rachel is blathering on about some Broadway show to Finn, whose expression doesn’t change the whole time he’s listening, which she’s sure he isn’t actually doing because she’s gotten stuck talking with Rachel Berry before. Vampires were cake compared to that torture. She swears the boy is more clueless than Brittany sometimes. Mike and Matt are in the middle of the room dancing while Kurt and his hag, Mercedes, are talking with Artie and Tina.
Then there’s Puck.
He was seated in the back corner with a Nintendo DS held up to his face, punching buttons violently and cursing under his breath.
She ran over her options one more time before climbing up and plopping down next to him. “Aren’t you usually joined at the vagina with Brittany and Quinn?”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Santana dismisses. “Besides…why would I want to sit with them when I can be around you and your stellar company?”
“Yeah, I’m going to call bullshit on that,” he looks over at her, seeing the response on her lips and beats her to it. “Look…I’m about to get to the next level and it’s really important that I focus so…why don’t we both skip past the denial crap and you just say what the fuck is going on.”
Santana’s not quite sure how she became kind of good friends with Puck. He’s violent, rude, obnoxious, and a good guy underneath it all. Sure, he still tries to get back in her pants every day, even though she’s told him many times that the one time they had sex was a lapse in judgment on her part.
A lapse in judgment that was sponsored by cheap Tequila.
They’ve actually ended up hanging out a few times. They’d go check out scary movies (she bitterly remembers when old school vampire movies were her favorite things to watch), play video games at his place, and sometimes she’d even help him score some beer with her fake ID.
No one really understood it. Quinn, especially, really had a problem with Puck for some reason and she would give Santana shit about it, but she liked having Puck around. Especially on occasions when she managed to piss off both her friends.
“I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now.”
Puck eyes her for a long moment before turning back to his game. “Denial it is then.”
“How about we both just shut the fuck up and wait for Mr. Schue.”
“Fine by me, sexy.”
She hates Puck’s little pet names, and has told him time and time again to give it a rest. Of course, he doesn’t listen. So she takes it upon herself to punch, kick, or do something equally painful and annoying to show him how much she hates it. Today, she grabs his DS and wrecks his game.
“God fucking dammit, Santana!”
Puck is on his feet, kicking his chair to the side and throwing a mini tantrum when Mr. Schuester walks in and gives Puck a lecture about yelling at Santana. She tries to hide her grin and act hurt and offended as she throws the game back in Puck’s lap when he sits down and Mr. Schue starts with whatever the hell he’s talking about.
“I can’t imagine why Brittany or Quinn would be so fucking pissed at you, bitch,” he hisses at her before sliding his chair several inches away. She actually feels bad about the whole thing and thinks about apologizing but doesn’t see the point. Maybe she should start getting used to the idea of just being on her own.
Of course, as she’s thinking that, she can’t help but watch Brittany as she and Quinn go and take a seat. Brittany looks up, looks at her, and Santana can see everything that’s going on inside her: confusion, sadness, and a little bit of anger. She can only hope that in the small moment of eye contact Brittany can see the same thing happening to her.
Glee Club passes by quickly. A part of her is thankful for that because she’s somehow managed to throw off the group with her drama. Mr. Schuester lets them go early and she leans down to grab her bag and when she sits up everyone is running for the exit. Quinn’s practically dragging Brittany out by the hand.
Santana’s never seen the choir room clear out so quickly.
“You doing OK today, Santana?” Mr. Schue asks, his voice sounding oddly loud now that the room was empty.
“Dandy,” she quips as she walks past him.
“Do you have a minute, actually?” he asks as he quickly rushes in front of her, blocking the exit. The sneer that came across her face was a reflex she couldn’t help, and when your teacher was Will Schuester who always saw the good in people and all that other shit, you can get away with that kind of stuff.
Santana saw, however, something different on Mr. Schuester’s face. Something…knowing.
“I’ve got places to be, actually,” she sidesteps him again, because she’s got even better reflexes now, and hopes that he’s not stupid enough to grab her or something like Quinn because mouthing off to teachers was one thing. Physical violence was another.
“Can we set a time to talk then?” he calls after her. “It’s important,” he adds when he senses her hesitancy.
Santana turns in the door and says, “Tomorrow…I guess.”
As if she needed another mystery in her life.
Chapter 2
Author: Race122VE (Coll)
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: R (mostly language, then violence and some semi sexiness as the fic goes on)
Summary: “But…you’re just a girl.” Glee AU fic.
Word Count: About 4k-ish this part.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
Author’s Note: So…now that the prologue is done, Santana is a vampire Slayer. This is not a Buffy crossover; I’m just using the lore and putting it into the Glee universe. Things will get explained along the way and, as stated previously, I will mention some things that happened in S1 of Glee, but this is pretty much a whole new verse. Thanks for reading and letting me know what you think.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Santana probably got a good hour of sleep, as she predicted on her way home.
There were so many awful things about being chosen, but the lack of sleep was always on her mind. Along with all the other powers, her body can adapt to the lack of sleep. She’s not always 100%, but she can function enough to get through practice, school, Glee, training, and patrol. The bed is warm and soft, but when she chances peeking at her alarm clock and sees she only has a half hour to get up, ready, and to practice Santana pushes herself up and walks to the bathroom.
She manages to get dressed and put together pretty quickly. Not having to stand in front of her closet and pick out an outfit was one of the perks of having to wear her Cheerio’s uniform all the time, and Santana only appreciated it after her calling or whatever.
As she heads downstairs she pauses and listens to see if her mom is in the kitchen, but everything seems quiet and empty. There’s a tinge of saddens that creeps up on her, but she has no time to deal with any feelings right now. She heads to the fridge to grab a bottle of water and pauses when she sees the normally empty door now housing one item.
It’s a note taped to the door. Taped, for Christ’s sake.
This time, she allows herself to feel sad and pathetic about the fact that between her and her mother they don’t even have a freaking magnet anywhere on their fridge. The feelings shift quickly to anger when she actually walks up close enough to read the note.
“Fuck.”
Her mother had grabbed her laundry before leaving for her job early that morning and saw the dust covered Cheerios uniform Santana didn’t hide very well. Usually, Santana took care of her own laundry, but with Coach insisting on having the uniforms dry cleaned her mother occasionally took them in for Santana on her way to work and today seemed to be one of those mornings. Now, tonight was going to be a night where she was going to have to explain how she got the uniform, quoting the note, ‘covered in dirt when she was supposed to be studying with Brittany and Quinn.’
Her eyes looked over to the clock on the microwave. Fifteen minutes left. This was not what she needed this morning, but it’s what she came to expect with her new, double life. Either way, the only thing she should be focusing on right now was getting to practice. She had all day to think of something to say.
After a quick jog, she bursts through McKinley High’s doors and pushes through the crowd (only knocking over a couple of people today, it’s a new record since her super strength has kicked in) towards the locker room. Practice is starting as she rushes past rows and rows of lockers before she gets to hers in the back. She checks out the mirror, pleased to find that she’s not sweating like a pig and just has to shuffle around some items to make room for her bag.
When she shuts her locker door, Quinn is on the other side with her arms crossed over her chest and a ‘what the fuck’ glare plastered on her face. Santana screams because, well…she’s shocked. She’s supposed to have a new, sixth sense about things and fucking Quinn sneaks up on her?
The day was not going well.
“Jesus, Quinn, you fucking scared the shit out of me!”
“Language,” Quinn admonishes. “Brittany’s mad at you.”
“Good morning to you too,” she grumbles back, purposefully ignoring Quinn’s jab at her mouth and the sinking feeling in her stomach at the idea of Brittany being upset with her.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“About the language? I’m fucking ignoring it,” she shoots back, side stepping Quinn so she can make her way out of the locker room and the subject of Brittany.
Santana kind of had a feeling Brittany was…not mad per say, but not happy with her either. She doesn’t train and patrol every night, but the schedule that Coach came up with covers every night of the week. If she’s not giving an excuse to her mom she’s most likely giving one to Brittany...and Quinn, but Quinn is different than Brittany. She’ll just chalk up Santana’s behavior to her mom or something else.
Brittany was different for many reasons.
The first, and most important, was that Santana was completely gone for the blonde dancer.
It was something she hasn’t admitted to anyone. She had only began to admit it to herself at the beginning of the school year. Brittany had gone away with her family for the last month before their Sophomore year started, and it wasn’t until the absence that Santana realized how much she needed the girl in her life. Then the jealousy of seeing her friend make out with practically everyone that mattered in their class (and the janitor) pushed Santana to admit that, yeah…she had a thing for Brittany.
The bright side to the chosen, destiny thing was that her brain was so occupied with other shit that she didn’t have to deal with the whole ‘I’m into my best friend’ thing.
“Do you even know what you did?”
Quinn had managed to step in front of Santana, blocking the exit to the locker room.
“We’re going to be late.”
Quinn scoffs. “You’ve been late the whole week, Santana. It’s only been for the first five or ten minutes, but Coach yells at you and then lets it slide miraculously. And I’m the Captain. We have time to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Santana fires back, her tone telling Quinn that she should drop it.
“How about the fact that you’ve been walking around like a zombie for the past few weeks? And…you blew Brittany off last night.” Quinn was always horrible at picking up on things like Santana implying that she should shut her mouth, but it didn’t change that fact that what she said had caught Santana’s attention.
Firstly, there was the zombie comment. She had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming that zombies don’t walk like slow morons, they fucking run fast as shit and want to claw your flesh off and eat it. She would know. Since all this…stuff, she’s had the pleasure of dealing with zombies.
All that, however, was overshadowed by the subject of Brittany “What?”
“She had that date with Scott…whatshisface, but it was a group thing and you told her you would tag along,” Quinn reminds her, but it all flew right over Santana’s head. “She said she called you and texted a bunch of times.”
She had some kind of bitchy comeback on her tongue, but then her mind kicked in and she flashed back to the previous night. Specifically, picking up her phone and ignoring the missed calls and texts to answer the call from Sue Sylvester.
“Shit.”
“What is going on with you lately?” Quinn asks the anger and accusation disappearing from her tone and concern taking over. Quinn can be a real bitch sometimes, and can appear like she doesn’t give a damn, but when she gets like this…when she gets worried, Santana knows she’s not doing as good of a job at covering her lies as she thought she was.
“Nothing.” She may have accepted her role, her purpose, but she is still very good at denial.
“Look, Santana…I know you have secrets, and I know that you like to keep things bottled up, but…” Quinn trails off. She’s frustrated, not able to put her thoughts into words, and Santana gets that and secretly hopes it’s enough for the Head Cheerio to drop the conversation but there is no way the universe is going to let her off the hook that easily. “You know how things are when Brittany’s upset about something. If you’re going to keep your problems bottled up, fine. Whatever. But don’t alienate the one person that cares about you the most.”
“What about you?”
Quinn arches an eyebrow, and Santana rushes on, “You implied that Brittany is the only who cares about me…”
“You know I care about you, S,” Quinn says firmly. “But we both know that you and Britt are closer and…right now she’s pissed, it’s your fault, and everyone else is going to be brought down because she’s in a bad mood.”
Santana begins to roll her eyes, but she doesn’t get there. “You know I’m right.” Quinn grabs on to her elbow, yanking Santana forward slightly and punctuating each word to make her point.
The whole thing pisses Santana off, but all she can really focus on is that they’re late.
Quinn was right. Coach was letting her off easy at Cheerios practice, but no one knew what she endured during training.
“Fucking fine…I’ll fix it,” she says, but Quinn’s grip is firm. Santana can’t really help what happens next. The blonde squeezes, not hard…not to someone like Santana who can take punches from vampires, but her body reacts before she knows what’s happening. She jerks her elbow from Quinn’s hand, but somehow manages to shove her friend at the same time.
Normally, this would be no big deal. However, she’s still learning how to deal with her strength, especially when she’s in a situation where someone is, technically, invading her personal space and being semi violent with her. The force, however, knocks Quinn into the doors.
Well, technically, she pushes Quinn through the doors and onto her ass.
“Shit, Santana.”
She knew it was bad when Quinn cursed. Quinn never cursed. She stepped forward, reaching out her hand to help the girl up and receiving a glare in return. “I’m sorry, Q...I’m so-”
“Forget it,” she snaps, smacking Santana’s hand out of the way before she pushes herself up. “Just…get it together. Fix whatever you did with Brittany and stop shoving your friends.”
Quinn walks away before Santana can even think of anything to say.
---
Practice goes by normally: filled with sweat, groans, tears, and some blood.
But, damn, are their routines flawless.
Quinn was right, though…Brittany was mad at her. This particular routine they were practicing did not require the two of them to be next to each other, but normally that wouldn’t stop Brittany from wandering over during breaks and chatting about ducks and her cat.
Coach decides to take out Santana and Quinn’s lateness (and Quinn’s scuffed up uniform from where she landed on the floor) on Brittany when she turned left instead of right at one point during the cheer by making her run laps. Then, the three of them endured her verbal abuse for the rest of the morning before Sue assigns Brittany to put the equipment away. She storms off the field, throwing a ‘not quite adequate’ about their performance over her shoulder before chucking her bull horn at a cowering freshman.
The field cleared, Quinn (who had done her own fair share of ignoring Santana) included, leaving just her and Brittany.
“Want some help?” she asks lamely, watching as Brittany gathers up some of the pom poms and begins walking towards the bleachers where there were bags waiting. She expected the silent treatment, but she didn’t expect it to hurt her as much as it did inside.
Since Brittany wasn’t planning on responding, she took it upon herself to start folding up the mats.
“You’re going to be late for class,” Brittany points out quietly as she walks back to Santana to help her.
“Fuck em,” she shrugs, not able to keep her eyes off Brittany. Doing that, though, makes it painfully obvious how much Brittany is avoiding eye contact. “Sorry about last night.”
Blue eyes connect this time, staring at Santana for long moments as they carry the mat to the side of the field before Brittany speaks. “You blew me off.”
“I didn’t mean to-”
“You’ve been doing it a lot.”
Brittany speaks in a calm and even tone while Santana’s cut off plea was desperate. It’s how it always is with them. Santana’s outspoken and can get very passionate and loud about her thoughts. Brittany was more thoughtful about things, which was kind of ironic considering some of the things that came out of her mouth.
The truth was, however, that Brittany was smart. Sure, she needed a lot of help with her math and science homework, but she was thoughtful, honest, and always just knew things. Santana had actually been dreading this moment. Keeping her double life a secret was only a problem when it came to her mom, Quinn, and Brittany. The first two were busy enough with their own lives to really notice how strangely Santana’s behavior has been. Brittany was always able to see through her, and now she was calling Santana out and she had no choice but to keep lying.
“My mom’s been hounding me lately and…my phone is a piece of shit…I’ve just got a lot on my mind, B.” Santana looks down, hoping that it’s enough for Brittany to just stop being upset with her and to just be mildly annoyed. Anything was better than the silent treatment, and she only had to endure that for the length of practice.
“That’s all?”
It’s a test; Santana knows it is right off the bat. Brittany’s giving her one last chance to come clean, or to make her lie more convincing. She doesn’t want to lie because they’ve never kept anything from each other. Really, since they’ve become friends, Santana has only kept two things from Brittany, and both of them happened only this year.
She knew better, though. Knew that keeping this secret was for everyone else’s own well being. Coach has said that being a new, untrained…Slayer was a good thing. Not many of the vampires knew she had been called so, in the scope of things, she had the element of surprise on her hands. If any of them ever gathered enough brains and decided to form some sort of plan to get rid of her, they’d probably go after the people that matter most to her.
Like Brittany. And Quinn…and her mom.
No. No one could know what she was. Is.
“You know if there was something to tell I’d tell you.”
Santana fights to keep her face sincere, even though she hates herself for pulling out this card. It was a low blow because if she kept her face still and waited long enough Brittany would forgive her and move on. A smile begins to spread across Brittany’s face, and Santana hates herself more then she already did because that means Brittany buys her bullshit and she was basically forgiven.
“So…how’d last night go…?” It wasn’t really what she wanted to talk about, but Santana was kind of desperate for a subject change.
“Fine…I guess,” Brittany mumbles as they finished packing away the equipment. “He was kind of boring. Everyone was, really. I just spent the whole night trying to get a hold of you.”
Considering she just lied to her best friend and got away with it, she shouldn’t be so happy inside that Brittany had such a horrible time. “Well…I’m going to have to pay better attention to my phone. Can’t have you all bored and stuff.”
That one wasn’t, technically, a lie. Santana knew she had to be better at juggling if she wanted to try to hold on to the normal part of her life. For now she was just happy that things with Brittany were OK.
Everything was put away and as they walk off the field towards the school Brittany hooks her pinky with Santana’s. She has to ignore the shiver that runs up her arm and throughout her body every time it happens. There was a small part of her that wished Brittany wasn’t the way she was (open, touchy, and loving). It’d be so much easier to ignore her feelings, but that wasn’t the case.
Not to mention the fact that if Brittany didn’t do these little things, she wouldn’t be Brittany any more.
She had been going on about something for a while now. Once they were in the halls it was harder to pick up what she was saying and have a billion thoughts running through her mind at once. Brittany gives her pinky a squeeze and Santana looks over. “What?”
“I asked if you’re still coming over later…after Glee Club…like you usually do every Thursday…”
Shit. She forgot it was Thursday, but there was no way her mom was going to let her out of the house tonight. Santana squeezed her eyes shut, partly to think of something to say, but mostly because she could hear the way Brittany was sighing in disappointment and the last thing she needed was a visual. Then, she tugged them to a stop before pulling her hand free. “Of course you’re not. I guess I should have known.”
“It’s my mom, Britt-”
“Weren’t you with her last night?”
Her mouth opens and closes several times before her shoulders slump in defeat. “I just can’t, tonight.”
“It’s fine,” Brittany says as she walks past her and down the hall.
Once Brittany’s out of eye shot, Santana’s fist slams into the wall before she even realizes that it’s between periods and dozens of people just saw her put a cracked dent into concrete. She’s not really surprised when no one stops and just keeps going on with what they’re doing. She’s got the ‘don’t fuck with me’ persona down.
Instead she just wipes at her knuckles, cut open slightly and stained white from the wall, and stalks off to class where she hopes to get some of her shit together.
---
The universe keeps hating her that day because she can’t manage to think of anything to say to her mom during class. Also, she has no idea what to say to Brittany, or Quinn for that matter. When she gets to Glee Club, the two are seated at the piano talking in whispers. They look up and see her but continue with whatever it is they're talking about.
Judging by Quinn’s raised eyebrow and Brittany’s pout, Santana figures she’s the hot topic.
She stops for a moment to look around. If she can’t sit with Brittany or Quinn, she’s not really sure she wants to join any of the other small groups scattered about the choir room as they wait for Mr. Schuester. Rachel is blathering on about some Broadway show to Finn, whose expression doesn’t change the whole time he’s listening, which she’s sure he isn’t actually doing because she’s gotten stuck talking with Rachel Berry before. Vampires were cake compared to that torture. She swears the boy is more clueless than Brittany sometimes. Mike and Matt are in the middle of the room dancing while Kurt and his hag, Mercedes, are talking with Artie and Tina.
Then there’s Puck.
He was seated in the back corner with a Nintendo DS held up to his face, punching buttons violently and cursing under his breath.
She ran over her options one more time before climbing up and plopping down next to him. “Aren’t you usually joined at the vagina with Brittany and Quinn?”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Santana dismisses. “Besides…why would I want to sit with them when I can be around you and your stellar company?”
“Yeah, I’m going to call bullshit on that,” he looks over at her, seeing the response on her lips and beats her to it. “Look…I’m about to get to the next level and it’s really important that I focus so…why don’t we both skip past the denial crap and you just say what the fuck is going on.”
Santana’s not quite sure how she became kind of good friends with Puck. He’s violent, rude, obnoxious, and a good guy underneath it all. Sure, he still tries to get back in her pants every day, even though she’s told him many times that the one time they had sex was a lapse in judgment on her part.
A lapse in judgment that was sponsored by cheap Tequila.
They’ve actually ended up hanging out a few times. They’d go check out scary movies (she bitterly remembers when old school vampire movies were her favorite things to watch), play video games at his place, and sometimes she’d even help him score some beer with her fake ID.
No one really understood it. Quinn, especially, really had a problem with Puck for some reason and she would give Santana shit about it, but she liked having Puck around. Especially on occasions when she managed to piss off both her friends.
“I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now.”
Puck eyes her for a long moment before turning back to his game. “Denial it is then.”
“How about we both just shut the fuck up and wait for Mr. Schue.”
“Fine by me, sexy.”
She hates Puck’s little pet names, and has told him time and time again to give it a rest. Of course, he doesn’t listen. So she takes it upon herself to punch, kick, or do something equally painful and annoying to show him how much she hates it. Today, she grabs his DS and wrecks his game.
“God fucking dammit, Santana!”
Puck is on his feet, kicking his chair to the side and throwing a mini tantrum when Mr. Schuester walks in and gives Puck a lecture about yelling at Santana. She tries to hide her grin and act hurt and offended as she throws the game back in Puck’s lap when he sits down and Mr. Schue starts with whatever the hell he’s talking about.
“I can’t imagine why Brittany or Quinn would be so fucking pissed at you, bitch,” he hisses at her before sliding his chair several inches away. She actually feels bad about the whole thing and thinks about apologizing but doesn’t see the point. Maybe she should start getting used to the idea of just being on her own.
Of course, as she’s thinking that, she can’t help but watch Brittany as she and Quinn go and take a seat. Brittany looks up, looks at her, and Santana can see everything that’s going on inside her: confusion, sadness, and a little bit of anger. She can only hope that in the small moment of eye contact Brittany can see the same thing happening to her.
Glee Club passes by quickly. A part of her is thankful for that because she’s somehow managed to throw off the group with her drama. Mr. Schuester lets them go early and she leans down to grab her bag and when she sits up everyone is running for the exit. Quinn’s practically dragging Brittany out by the hand.
Santana’s never seen the choir room clear out so quickly.
“You doing OK today, Santana?” Mr. Schue asks, his voice sounding oddly loud now that the room was empty.
“Dandy,” she quips as she walks past him.
“Do you have a minute, actually?” he asks as he quickly rushes in front of her, blocking the exit. The sneer that came across her face was a reflex she couldn’t help, and when your teacher was Will Schuester who always saw the good in people and all that other shit, you can get away with that kind of stuff.
Santana saw, however, something different on Mr. Schuester’s face. Something…knowing.
“I’ve got places to be, actually,” she sidesteps him again, because she’s got even better reflexes now, and hopes that he’s not stupid enough to grab her or something like Quinn because mouthing off to teachers was one thing. Physical violence was another.
“Can we set a time to talk then?” he calls after her. “It’s important,” he adds when he senses her hesitancy.
Santana turns in the door and says, “Tomorrow…I guess.”
As if she needed another mystery in her life.
Chapter 2